You meant it for evil - 19 by Maeryn Lamonte CAUTION: Some readers have said they found parts of this chapter disturbing. please exercise caution, and sorry for the late warning notice on this one. The representative took a step closer, standing head and shoulders taller than me and giving me a close up look of his broad chest and two arms that were bigger around than my thighs. I let out a shuddering breath. I was tempted to reason with him, but some instinct told me to hold off, that this would be better if the initiative came from him; from them. I swallowed down my growing fear and slowly looked up into hazel eyes and finely chiselled features. Come on Liz, something to break the ice. Could that work? I took a chance and forced a quavering smile. “You know it's a damn shame you're not straight.”

-oOo-
It took a while for the backhanded compliment to settle, but when it did the anger melted away and a gentle smile took over.

“If ever I were to make an exception it would be for someone like yourself, but I wouldn't hold your breath. I'm Michael.”

He held out a large hand which totally engulfed my own, the act of friendship and acceptance having a calming effect on everyone else in the room. The tension drained out of the air and, by ones and twos, most of the crowd drifted off.

“Do I take it you've been nominated as spokesperson here Michael?”

He nodded as his significant other moved in and slid an arm protectively around his waist, all the time giving me 'hands off' signals. Michael put his arm around the young man's shoulder and hugged him close. There was obvious love there. How could anyone think such a thing was wrong?

I held up my ring to the younger man and gave him an apologetic smile.

“I'm kind of spoken for anyway. I didn't really mean what I said other than to comment on your partner's stunning good looks. You're very fortunate.”

He shrugged and offered his own smaller hand.

“Colin.”

“Nice to meet you both. Michael do you know who I am?”

It seemed a daft question given the amount of time I'd spent on television recently, but if these two had been out wandering London's highways and byways these last months, it could well be that they'd only seen me in TV shop windows with the sound turned down.

“I've seen your face on telly a bit and there's been talk among the street folk about someone called Elizabeth doing stuff for us. Would that be you?”

“Yes. I'm kind of part of the reason this place exists.”

“Nah, she is the reason this place exists.”

Aaron couldn't keep quiet. I think he was proud to be someone who knew me and wanted the spotlight to be properly centred. He told Michael and Colin how the centre had come about. I didn't really want the interruption, embarrassing as it was, but it proved to be useful. By the time he was done both of our hosts were looking at me with a little more respect. Aaron finally ran out of words and I was able to get a word or two in.

“Well, whatever. I wanted to come up here myself to say how sorry I am for the way you've been treated. I had hoped that, being from the street, you'd have enough in common to overcome prejudice like that shown you earlier today, but I guess when people have their basic needs filled, their true nature comes to the surface, and you find fuck-ups wherever you go.”

Colin spurted out a laugh, the sort that would have had milk coming out of his nose had he been drinking any at the time. I guess I needed to take control of my language, but I was still angry that anyone under my care had been subjected to such unpleasantness.

“Anyway, two of the ringleaders have left this place and the rest seem to be a little less antagonistic. I just wanted to come up and meet with you people, let you know that the welcome the management extends you is warmer than the one you've received so far. And to ask you to comment. Is there anything that you or anyone else here can think of that might stop this from happening again?”

“I don't think so. Most of us kind of expected something like this. A few of us thought this place was going to be different, but apparently not.”

“Wait, are you saying there's more like you? Still out on the streets and not coming in because they're afraid of being attacked?”

“Yeah, there are quite a few more of us, maybe a couple of hundred or so. It's difficult to tell because most of us hide who we are a lot of the time. You know, most of us ended up on the streets when we came out to family and got ourselves disowned and kicked out. Something like that makes you a bit cautious. The few of us who thought this place was worth a shot are those of us who are more settled about who we are, hence the TGs taking advantage of the clothes you had to offer, and the gays like us mainly being in open relationships. The ones who could really benefit from a place like this, if it were to show a little more openness and acceptance, are too scared to come forward. And well, let’s face it, who can blame them.

“We don't want to cause any trouble though. We'll move out tomorrow.”

“The hell you will.”

“Liz, it's ok. We're used to living on the streets and, well, the weather's getting better. We'll be fine. You're doing a great thing here and it'd be a shame to see it go off the tracks because the people you're trying to help are flawed enough not to be able to accept us. Your coming up here to speak to us means a lot. Took a lot of courage. After your kindness it would be wrong of us to be arseholes ourselves.”

He smiled a little sadly.

“Michael, if you keep running away from things like this, they'll never get any better.”

He laughed.

“I can see where the courage comes from.”

“Colin, can't you say anything to him? Michael, when stuff like this happens, it's usually just one or two over the top extremist nutters, who probably deserve to be castrated for inciting otherwise decent people into a frenzy. If you go then the little shits have won and I would feel like this place had been derailed more than just a little if it failed to find a way of helping people like yourself and the others here.

“I'm looking to open a new shelter soon, hopefully in less than a month. I'm planning on visiting the site early next week and I'd like you and anyone else from this floor, or even those still out in the cold who make up part of your group, to come along. Maybe we can come up with some ideas on giving you guys a part of the building to run for yourselves. If you don't think we can address the situation head on here and now, at least let me offer you sanctuary away from those likely to cause you trouble.”

“You'd do that for us?”

“Michael I know something of what people like you have to live with. It's not a burden any human being should have to carry. I'm sorry, I don't know a lot about homosexuality so I can't comment directly here, but there are transgendered people in my family and I've seen how hard it is to live without acceptance. I'm not doing this because I want to make a statement about the LGBT community, but because you're people. If society is intent on marginalising you, then yes I'd do it for you, because you deserve to have a place where you can feel safe and warm and with the people you care about.”

He shook his head disbelieving and bewildered.

“Ok, you're on. And thank-you.”

“Any chance you can make a few introductions? We'd like to talk to some of your companions.”

And that's how we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening. Aaron held back a little, obviously uncomfortable around such people. The age old problem with men; if you're seen with a certain group, then you get associated with them and risk being ostracised from your own circle of friends. He listened in though, and as each new acquaintance brought a fresh story of rejection for something they couldn't help, he allowed himself to be drawn in, until he was asking more questions than me.

By the time we left his eyes were shining with unshed tears and he withdrew into a pensive silence. As we walked down the stairs together I glanced across at him.

“Penny for them?”

“What?”

“I was wondering what has you looking so thoughtful.”

“Oh, it was all them upstairs. You know I never thought of them as being people; just something different to keep away from. I was angry with you earlier for dragging me into all that, but you know, they're just like you and me underneath it all.”

“Where it counts, yes, they’re just like you and me. Better sometimes because when you have to live with persecution and hardship it makes you more sensitive to other people's pain.”

“That's why they was offering to leave even though they was attacked?”

“Yes. Good people. Not always, there are dickheads in every crowd, but not up there. Just ordinary, good people who are hurting.”

“Can I come with you when you go to look at the new place?”

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

“Yeah, sure. I wanted you to come anyway because you did such a great job with this place; are doing such a good job.”

“Well you came through with your bit.”

We shook hands at the front door. All around people were pushing chairs and tables to the side and laying out sleeping bags. Aaron's care for others in evidence, the fact that he couldn't turn anyone away. I wanted to hug him, but I guessed that wouldn't be so appropriate. There was something in the way he looked at me still, and I didn't want to encourage his hopes.

-oOo-
Friday morning I dressed in something comfortable, fired up Mr Pinkie and set to on the phone with a renewed purpose. My first call was to Karen inviting her to lunch, then my next to Mike to make sure he brought enough for three, but afterwards I called ministers and businessmen, doctors and bankers, even news reporters and media contacts, jack russling each of them into submission, asking begging, demanding, whatever it took, until I had what I wanted. By the time both hands of my clock were pointing heavenward I had a meeting at the new building set for Monday morning, with a promise of it being available for decorating by the end of the week; I had the promise of seven small businesses coming in with their workers to run training courses for one or two mornings or afternoons a week; I had a mental health clinic with appropriate specialists promising to run sessions one day a week for any of the LGBT crowd I would have staying at the separate wing I was planning in the new building; and I had a minister's promise that the clinic's time would be paid, at least in part, from one or another NHS budget, the rest potentially being covered by more standardised charitable gifts from the financially well off.

There were certain things I’d had to promise in return which would be challenging to achieve, many of which depended heavily on certain people in the media sitting me in front of the camera again, for which I would probably need to arrange a publicity stunt or two to make it worth their while. Part of the reason for inviting Karen in any case.

I was just hanging up the phone on my last planned call of the morning when the buzzer went. I walked downstairs to find Karen standing outside with a pot of daffodils in her hand, and Mike's car just pulling up behind her. We did the air kiss thing that Karen seemed to prefer — I guess as you get older you become progressively more paranoid about mussing your makeup, afraid of the horrors that might show through — and I did the expected 'ooh are these for me, you shouldn't have, they're lovely' while we waited for Mike to park up and walk over.

“I hope you don't mind. Mike usually comes over for lunch since we don't have much time to see each other in the evenings. You did say you wanted to meet him anyway and I doubt you had much time to talk that evening when he proposed.”

“No I don't mind at all. How are your bruises?”

She held me at arm's length and subjected me to a hypermetropical scrutiny.

“That's one of the reasons I invited you over. I'm still not sure how much good your therapist did, but she reckons that what little colouring is left by Monday will be easily covered with makeup, so if you want me back up on the horse and leading the charge, I'm all yours again.

“Hi Mike, what do you have to enchant our appetites today?”

He leaned over to give me a very reserved — for him — peck on the cheek, probably overly conscious of today's illustrious company.

“You know I'm sure you're just marrying me for my cooking. I thought the stomach was the way to a man's heart.”

Oh, it was so tempting to tease him on that one, but Karen didn't know that part of my past, and I wasn't about to initiate her into that particular circle of friends. Not now, possible not ever. I settled on a more traditional response.

“That and your money. One advantage of being that much younger. I stand to inherit so much”

I grinned at his mock outrage, and at Karen siding with him. I suppose if I was going to bring up age issues I shouldn't be surprised when those of a certain generation banded together against me.

“Come on up, I'm starving.”

Mike managed to show off his usual culinary excellence by presenting us with a quite exceptional Thai green curry. Being the middle of the day we limited ourselves to a half bottle of rosé between us and made up for the lack of booze with scintillating conversation. Karen started us off with a most original question.

“So how did you guys meet?”

I let Mike do the talking, partly because it was him Karen had wanted to get to know and partly because you can grow a whole new perspective on a person just by listening to them answer a question you know the answer to. How they word it, what they emphasise, the bits they leave out, it all goes to giving indicators on what's important to that person and what's not.

We kept the topics light while we were eating, but as soon as the plates were empty, Mike cleared them into the sink and I put the Mighty Wurlitzer to work making the coffee. Yes I know that's a pipe organ, but with all the wheezing and other weird noises, the analogy still holds.

Karen and I left the man to the suds and the machine to its strange noises and retired to the lounge where we sat and started to talk business.

Karen wanted me to handle a number of exhibitions and parties around the country and presented me with an itinerary that would have me out of the city for more than half of the next two months. It wasn't something I could object to, after all it was written into the contract. I did try to negotiate a couple of dates that threatened to have me out of London over Mike's birthday, but apparently the dates had already been published so there was no room for manoeuvre. Mike overheard that part of the discussion — I suppose the dates causing his ears to prick up — and stuck his head through the door long enough to say it was no big deal and we'd celebrate when we could.

With her business out of the way I summoned my inner Rottweiler and presented my own proposal for her to get involved in my project. Karen shied away at first, completely unsure about what I was suggesting, but I wasn't about to let this go; it was too good of an idea. After ten minutes, Mike appeared with a tray of coffees and a wry smile.

“It's not worth it Karen, when she gets like this there's no escape. You might as well give in now rather than wait for her to wear you down; it's easier on the nerves.”

The double teaming thing worked and Karen finally caved with a promise to see what she could do. We chatted details for a little, and by the end I think she was genuinely coming round. Any speculation was cut short when her phone started clamouring for attention and she excused herself, hurrying out of the flat with it glued to her ear.

“That went well.”

Mike had a way with words sometimes. Concise, to the point, accurate.

“Yeah, shame about the travelling though. I mean I like the idea of getting around to see these places, but I see little enough of you as it is.”

“We'll just have to find some other way of keeping in touch. It won't be that bad, we'll at least be able to speak to each other. Besides, they say having some time apart helps a relationship to grow.”

“Does it?”

“Either that or it causes it to fall apart.”

I reached over into his embrace and kissed him long and deep.

“That, my love, is never going to happen.”

-oOo-
Mike and I spent a languorous afternoon in each other's arms. It felt good to lean against his chest and listen to the slow beating of his heart, to feel his strong arms around me, to feel loved and protected. It hardly seemed possible that Mike had been in my life for just a couple of months, he was such an integral part of it. The only time in recent memory when he hadn't featured in at least part of the day was the previous Saturday, and then he had been with me as I woke the following morning. This was going to be different, difficult.

He was idly stroking me hair and probably completely oblivious to the effect it was having on me. Loving and being loved is much the same regardless of which side of the gender divide you stand, but there are some aspects that are different. As Ken, I had felt a sense of proprietary care for any girl who had given me more than the time of day. It wasn't ownership — that would feel wrong on so many levels — but rather responsibility, like I had permission to look after and protect the person in my arms. As Liz the feeling was reversed, sort of a sense of submission, of giving up some of my autonomy. Old fashioned traditions had the care of women being passed from a father to husband, and regardless of modern views with feminism doing away with the need for a woman to have a protector, I wanted this. With each gentle stroke I found myself surrendering myself more completely to my man, and it felt wonderful.

“You know, if I were a cat, I'd be purring right now, and quite possibly dribbling all over you.”

He laughed, quietly, careful not to disturb me with any sudden movements.

“Cats are nice, but I'd rather have you the way you are.”

“What, mad and unpredictable?”

“And beautiful, and kind, and thoughtful, and generous, and...”

“Don't stop.”

“Words don't do you justice love.”

I twisted round to look up into his eyes and saw what he had no words to say. He reached down towards me and I reached up. Lips met in a soft, gentle caress.

He pulled away, leaned his forehead against mine, eyes closed, struggling with something.

“Mike?”

“I love you Liz, I didn't realise what that truly meant before I met you. “

“And?”

“This feels like it's leading somewhere, but I want our first time to be special, perfect. Would it sound odd if I told you I wanted to wait?”

I climbed up onto his lap, seated, not straddled, and gave him such a kiss. When oxygen deprivation forced us to surface I clung to his neck with all the meagre strength I had.

“You can be such a surprise sometimes you know? Odd, but only in the sense of unusual, atypical. Different, but in a good way. You couldn't have said anything more right just then.”

“I was worried...”

“I know, but no need. I'm sure one day we'll find something we disagree upon, but not today.”

He let out a long, relieved sigh. I was suddenly restless and bounced off his legs, spinning round to grab his hands and tug at them. The overall effect was spoiled by my lack of strength and body mass, resulting in a totally ineffectual attempt to haul him up after me.

“Come on, I've figured out what we can do with the rest of the afternoon.”

He allowed himself to be led but, I guess being a man, had to let it be known that he was only moving because he had decided to, not because I was pulling at him.

“Are you going to give me any clues?”

“It's to do with keeping in touch while I'm away.”

I ran to the bedroom and striped off my sweatshirt and scruffy jeans. Well ok, they're not really scruffy; everything I own is still nearly new and well cared for, but these were deliberately worn looking and loose and comfortable by comparison with the paint on, slightly elasticated ones that made up my more trendy-wear. I was rifling through my wardrobe wearing nothing but my frillies when Mike's head poked through the doorway.

“Oh, sorry.”

He withdrew like a tortoise in an avalanche. It was almost a shame. I'd be giving him free access soon enough and I didn't mind him looking.

“What did you think I was doing?”

“I think the operative word there was 'think'. I wasn't. Anyway, I did say clues, you know plural? With an s?”

My rummaging bore fruit as my hands fell on a simple dress patterned with autumn leaves on a white background. I pulled it on, along with same plain white tights and a pair of black pumps.

“Well, the telephone always seems a bit too impersonal to me. I like to see who I'm talking to, don't you? Oh it's safe by the way.”

His face peered cautiously through a crack in the door until he saw me fully dressed and sitting in front of my vanity, masking out the patches of purple and black.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking?”

“That depends if what I'm thinking you're thinking I'm thinking is what I'm thinking. As a further clue, do you have a computer at home? For personal use I mean.”

“Well no, just the clunky old beast I use for the business.”

“Well that won't do. That old nag is on its last legs and I wouldn't want to risk your shop data by messing with it. I think it's time for Mr Pinkie to finish his real life test and go in for SRS, which means she's going to want a boyfriend just like what I got, and I seen some just like her only in blue in that place down the road. You do have broadband don't you?”

“Yes I think so.”

“You do 'cos I was using it when I was round your place last week. What I don't know is whether or not you've got wireless.”

Mike pulled out his mobile and hit a speed dial.

“Hi Sandy, is James there?

“James hi, it's Mike. Our Internet connection. Do we have wireless. No hang on, I'd better pass you over to someone who speaks the same language.”

He handed me the phone and James gave me details of Mike's setup. I'd about finished with my face and set about combing a few tangles out of my hair.

“Ok, sounds like we need to get you a wireless router as well. Come on let's get you sorted.”

“Hang on, what if I don't want a laptop and wireless whatever-you-said?”

“You don't get an option, 'cos while I'm away I want to be able to video conference you. That means Skype or something similar which probably wouldn't run on your old dinosaur. If you have a wireless router and a laptop with a camera, you'll be able to talk to me face to face from anywhere in the shop. Now if for no other reason, isn't that worth the trouble?”

Mike gave me an exasperated look which I returned with a bright smile.

“What was it you said to Karen? Might as well give in now rather than wait for me to wear you down?”

“No fair, I was trying to be supportive. You're not allowed to use that argument against me.”

“All's fair in love my dear.”

“Don't you mean all's fair in love and war.”

“Well that may be true, but if so, my statement holds as well.”

“Heaven help me, a woman who can do logic.”

“All women do logic sweetie, it's just that simple men find it difficult to follow it in its more advanced forms.”

I put my brush down and gave myself a quick check over, front and sides.

“Good enough for jazz as my dad used to say.”

I grabbed my handbag and my man and dragged them out of the room.

-oOo-
We took separate cars since we'd be heading back to the restaurant afterwards to set things up. It didn't take me long to gather thing things we needed and pay for them. As we lined up at the check-up, a slightly bewildered Mike leaned over and murmured in my ear.

“Is this my engagement present then?”

“What a cheap old laptop that will be in the bin in three years’ time? Not a chance. When I buy you your engagement present, it will be something that will last a lifetime and will remind you of me every time you look at it. This is just in aid of keeping me sane while I'm away from you. You do want to keep me sane don't you?”

“I'm beginning to wonder if it's a bit late for that.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and handed my card over to the girl who had just rung up three modest figures on her till.

“Can you afford this?”

“I get a pretty decent salary and so far I haven't had to spend anything on clothes, so I'd say so, yes. Now keep your nose out.”

Back at the restaurant, James and I replaced the elderly single machine router with the wireless one. I was glad he was there. I'd set up my own internet connection as Ken, but I wouldn't say I was any sort of expert. James, by contrast, was something of a whiz, and what would have probably taken me an hour or more, he managed in ten minutes.

A quick check showed that the old thunderer could still see the interweb, then in the time it takes to go through a first boot on a new computer, the laptop was running and online. Mike came and stole James away to get things ready for the evening's customers, and I stayed on long enough to download and install Skype, set him up an account, test the sound and video and add my username to his list of friends. Before I left, I carried the machine down to the kitchen and put it on a table in the corner. It was still picking up the wireless signal, so I left it running with Skype in the background.

I interrupted Mike long enough to give him a kiss.

“If it makes a funny noise, click on the green telephone.”

He gave me a harassed nod and a quick smile, and I decided I'd better get out of his way.

It was a warm night so I drove home with the top down. The next time I picked up my hairbrush I was going to regret the indulgence, but for now all I cared about was the sheer delight of having the wind in my hair and Mike in my heart.

Back home, it was but a moment to coax the newly rechristened Miss Pinkerton into life and accept Mike's Skype address. I thought of trying to call then and there, but the restaurant was just about to enter its busy period, so I suppressed the urge. There would be time enough later.

Hearing noises from next door, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and knocked on Sharon's door.

“Hey sweetie, everything alright?”

“Everything's perfect, except Karen's sending me off on a tour of the British Isles so I'm not going to be around much over the next few months.”

She reappeared carrying two wine glasses and put them down on the table so she could give me hug.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. I just got back from setting Mike up with Skype. I figured if I have to be away from him for days at a time, at least we'll be able to keep in touch.”

“Smart move. I was just putting together some stuffed red peppers with feta cheese salad. Fancy joining me?”

So the threat of self-absorbed melancholy was averted and Sharon and I managed a pleasant evening catching up on each other's news. It seemed that she and Phil were more or less back to where they had been when I had become Liz. She had been dropping hints for about a week now, and was hopeful that sometime soon Phil would pop the question for a second time. I was excited for her, but at the same time concerned for Phil. I knew he still felt horribly guilty for what he had done to her and, I wondered if that was holding him back from trying a second time; worried perhaps that he might do something even worse. Maybe Auntie Liz needed to give him a gentle prod.

We found enough topics to keep chatting well into the night, then about eleven, she started making subtle yawning motions and I took the hint. Besides, things at the restaurant would be winding down and I wanted to try out the new technology on Mike. Back in my own flat I made myself a hot chocolate and settled onto the sofa with Miss Pinkerton on my lap.

Double click and wait. Silly Skype ringing noises repeating for a few seconds then... contact. Mike’s face was staring out of the computer screen at me. He looked over his should.

“What do I do now?”

“Look into the camera and talk to me you lummox.”

He looked back at the computer screen, eyebrows raised.

“That's all there is to it?”

“Technology even you can appreciate.”

“I thought you would have called earlier.”

“Well I had things set up here about sevenish, but I figured you wouldn't appreciate an interruption at that time so I went to see Sharon for a bit. I've just now come back. How was your evening?”

“Busy, but enjoyable. We tried a few new items on the menu this evening and they went down pretty well. We did have a couple of cancellations so it wasn't quite as busy as we expected. How's Sharon?”

“Doing well. Waiting for Phil to propose again. I'm wondering if he's still on a guilt trip. I mean here we are, Friday evening and two beautiful girls alone at home. I have my excuse and I can live with it, but I can’t help wondering where Phil was tonight.”

“What are they doing tomorrow?”

“I don't know, but I was planning on visiting the twins.”

“So you were, how about Sunday then? And would you like company tomorrow?”

“Hang on I'll ask. And yes always, as long as you don't mind doing a little shopping first.”

“Shopping?”

“Charley gave me a list, plus I would like to get him a prosthetic so he doesn't have to keep stuffing socks down his front. I'd also like to get a few things to help Emily and that's going to be a bit more delicate.”

“Ok, tomorrow, your place, early and down to the shops, then off to Kent. Go ask Sharon about Sunday.”

I put the computer to one side and went to knock on Sharon's door again. She appeared in pyjamas with a toothbrush in her mouth and an enquiring look in her eyes.

“Mike and I were wondering what you and Phil had planned for Sunday.”

She swallowed her mouthful of foam. Yeah I know, not such a great idea, but in her defence she had limited options for getting rid of it otherwise.

“Phil's on a course this weekend. He doesn't finish 'til Sunday afternoon. About four I think.”

“Do you know where he's gone?”

“Somewhere in Surrey, Guildford I think.”

“Fancy meeting him out there and going somewhere for a bite?”

“Yeah sure, sounds fun.”

“Cool. I won't keep you up any longer. Mike and I are off to see the twins tomorrow, so if I don't see you before, it'll be Sunday morning.”

“Ok, goodnight.”

I suppose I can't blame Sharon for being a bit offish. It was getting late and we had already said goodnight. Plus there was nothing we'd just discussed that couldn't have waited until the following morning. I returned to Miss P and a patiently waiting Mike.

“Ok, we're on for Sunday. Where do you know that's good around Guildford?”

“I'll give it some thought. Right now I think we both need to get to bed, especially if we're up early tomorrow. What time do you want me round?”

-oOo-
Saturday started off more or less according to plan with Mike joining me for an early breakfast around eight o'clock. I'd decided to try my girly self out on the twins today and, after some deliberation, had settled on my Autumn Cloud dress. It was mainly for Emily, this. I wanted her to take on board the idea that being a girl could be fun. Maybe it was a bit OTT, but I hoped she see past the actual clothes to the evident enjoyment I took from wearing them. Mike approved the choice, and his approval put extra shine in my smile.

Breakfast done, we climbed into my little roadster and headed off for a rather seedy part of the city. A little Internet research the previous night had given me the address of a particular shop. They promised discretion, but what they meant by that was they had painted the windows black. Mike refused to come in with me so I was forced to venture forth on my own. I described what I was looking for to the Gothic hermaphrodite behind the counter, and discovered that it was called a soft packer. Various sizes and colours were presented for my consideration and I chose a modestly sized one which matched my skin tone.

When asked if I wanted to try it on I sort of stammered out that it was a gift for my transsexual twin sister. Yeah I didn't really think that out and it got the smirk it deserved, along with the suggestion that since she was my twin sister, I could still try it on for her to make sure it fit properly. With a beetroot blush showing through my makeup I decided that the easiest way out of this was to go with the flow, which was how I ended up in a changing room with a very realistic looking and feeling false penis and testicles dangling between my legs — outside my knickers of course, I mean hygiene and all that.

It felt so weirdly wrong. There was an odd sense of familiarity, memories of how it had felt being Ken, and Ken wearing a dress at that. The prosthetic was comfortable enough and felt to be about the right size and weight, but it actually revolted me to feel myself completed in that way again. I couldn't bear to leave it there any longer and retrieved it, physically shaken by the experience. I only hoped it would be better received by Charley.

When I went to pay for it, the odd little shopkeeper had a line of alternative products, from a variety of dildos to several different shapes, sizes and qualities of vibrators. I didn't think my blush could go any deeper and actually felt light headed with the amount of blood my body had decided to shift to the surface of my skin. I declined the suggestions and handed over a twenty to pay for the package I had come to collect. There was a surprising amount of change, the price being considerably lower than I'd expected.

I was glad to be out of the shop and breathing clean air again. I climbed into the car, dropping the new purchase behind my seat, and drove off as soon as I could, my rigid posture daring Mike to comment, laugh or even breathe in any way out of the ordinary. His self-preservation instincts were good though, and he survived the five minutes it took my mood to return to normal.

Next stop was a retail outlet where we quickly found all the things Charley had asked for. Emily was tougher, but I picked out a selection of things ranging from blouses and trousers to skirts, tights and dresses. I tried to focus on soft, sensuous fabrics in subdued but subtly feminine colours and styles. The sort of things that might encourage her to experiment without feeling that she was selling out her old life too readily. I added a pair of flat slip-ons which would go with pretty much everything I'd bought, and which said girl without screaming femininity through high stiletto heels.

Mike reached the limit of his patience long before I had everything I needed and, whilst I could understand his frustration, I was at a loss to explain the importance I felt at picking out just the right things. Eventually we escaped the mall and made it out to the motorway and round to the centre by mid-day. We'd have to leave by two-thirty to get Mike back in time to get to the restaurant, but two and a half hours would be more than enough time.

For a change I went to see Charley first. He took the proffered packages gratefully enough, but when he looked inside the brown paper bag that contained my first purchase of the day, the oddest expression took over his face. It seems bizarre to use such a term with someone who possessed such a beautiful, feminine body, but the word 'unmanned' sprung to mind. He rushed off with his spoils to indulge himself.

If ever I had any doubts about why I was doing this — helping two total strangers who just happened to look like me — the look on Emily's face was enough to banish them for good. There was both relief and delight in her smile, and she all but squirmed with anticipation as she jumped up to greet me.

“Wow, you look amazing.”
It was still a thrill when people said that to me, but we weren't here for me.

“I know. And guess what? You can too.”

I began to unpack the things I'd brought her and something of the light faded from her eyes.

“I thought you'd prefer to start off with small steps. I mean these are all quite feminine, but a little subdued so you don't feel like you're standing out too much. There are still trousers if you don't feel ready for skirts yet. We can take it at whatever pace makes you feel comfortable.”

“I'm going to sound awfully ungrateful...”

“Spit it out Em, I'm here for you whatever it takes.”

“Well I was kind of hoping with this I could go all the way. You know all or nothing kind of thing? I don't suppose I could try your dress on?”

I looked down at myself with surprise.

“But I've been wearing this all morning. Wouldn't you prefer something fresh, something new and all your own?”

“Maybe later. Can't I just try it? I want to feel what it's like to look as amazing as you.”

Wow, I never expected her to change this dramatically. What the hey, I'd said whatever it takes. I quickly stripped out of the dress and handed it to her, showing her how to put it on.

“What about tights? Did you bring any tights like the ones you are wearing?”

I handed her a packet of fresh, white tights from the bed, again showing her how to roll them up and slide them on.

“It's actually easier to put the tights on first, you know before the skirt or dress, but it's no big deal.”

She jumped over to the mirror that had been added to her room. There was something about the image that wasn't quite right. I went over and touched the surface. Plastic not glass. I gave Em an enquiring look and she shrugged.

“Glass is too easily broken, and after last week I guess they still don't trust me. You must be cold, why don't you put something on.”

I'd thought this was going to be a quick show and tell kind of thing, but it seemed she had other ideas. My turn to shrug as I picked up a powder blue dress and slipped into it.

“There's something wrong, something missing. I still look too plain.”

I dug for my handbag and went to work on her face with my makeup kit.

“Hold still. This'll feel a bit strange, but you get used to it... Here comes the lipstick, again don't mind the taste; it's not unpleasant, just odd.”

I finished my masterpiece and turned her back to the mirror. We looked like two peas. Well you know, not literally. I mean it was impossible to tell who was who.

“Can I try your shoes? They look like they might be fun.”

They weren't much of a heel, maybe two inches. Whatever, we'd gone this far. I slipped them off and handed them over. She took a few awkward, tottering steps, a new born giraffe finding its legs. After a couple of minutes she was walking like a pro. She ran over and hugged me and sat down next to me, looking down into her lap. The scars on her wrist had healed as much as they were going to but there were still thin white traces in evidence.

“I wish there was something we could do about these.”

I pulled out my compact. I mean it had hidden my bruises, why not Emily's scars. Hey waddaya know, it worked.

We sat on the bed chatting about this and that, all the while her mannerisms becoming more girly. This really felt like it was going to work. I checked my watch. It was getting on for one o'clock and the others would be waiting for us to get some lunch.

“We'd better change back Emily and go and meet Charley and Mike for lunch.”

“Mike. He's your boyfriend isn't he?”

“Well my fiancé actually. He's really sweet.”

“You know what would be a great laugh? Why don't I pretend to be you for lunch and see if he notices?”

The small amount of discomfort I felt at the idea was washed away in Emily's enthusiasm. If this was going to help her get over things, I guess there wasn't any harm. I took off my watch and my angel wings necklace — still my favourite — and handed them to her, slid my feet into her new pair of flats, checked my own appearance in the mirror and turned to leave. She plucked my handbag from my arm with a mischievous grin.

“Gotta make it look good.”

It was oddly uncomfortable seeing Mike kiss Emily, and the disquiet inside grew inside me as we ate lunch together, Em leaning on Mike's arm as though she belonged there. She was a consummate actress and would have convinced even me had I known that I was me and not her. Time for this charade to end.

“Alright Emily, enough's enough. I think we should change back now.”

“What do you mean Em? What are you saying.”

“I'm saying you've had your little joke, now I think we'd better change back.”

She stood up and waved at one of the orderlies scattered around the room. They were always there, I noticed, discrete but always close enough to intervene when necessary. The orderly came over and Emily spoke to him pointing at me.

“It's my sister Emily, I think something's wrong.”

“Emily. What are you doing?”

Shit, how had I allowed myself to make this mistake. Ice water trickled through my veins as I realised just how this must look to everyone else. I looked at Mike who loved me and knew me best, but even he was giving me odd looks.

“Mike it's me, Liz. That's Emily, we switched clothes to see if you could tell the difference.”

“Oh God, she really thinks she's me.”

Like I said, consummate actress. The orderly took hold of my shoulders and I tried to shrug my way out of them.

“No, this isn't happening. Please, you have to believe me. I'm Liz Raeburn, that's Emily my sister. We just switched clothes, can't you see that?”

Another orderly hurried over and a doctor brandishing a syringe.

“No, I... Please no. I'm her, she's me. This isn't right. Emily why are you doing this?”

I felt a sharp stab in my arm and the last thing I saw was Mike and Emily, and even Charley, looking at me with a mixture of fear and pity. Emily, clinging to Mike's arm as if for support, betrayed the vaguest hint of a smile then the world faded into darkness.