EIGHT MONTHS LATER

A gentle knock on my door wakes me from my slumber. With bleary eyes, I stare over at my alarm clock- 8:05am.

"I'm good, thanks," I yell through the door. Getting up before 10am on a cold December Sunday morning? I don't think so.

"Okay," Charlotte replies, leaving me in peace. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling for a bit before swinging my soft, hairless legs out of bed and padding over to my bathroom. I stare at my cute reflection in the mirror and smile. Over the last eight months, my life has had its ups and downs, but there have been far more of the former than the latter.

I've become one of Joshua's busiest models, travelling all over London doing all number of shoots and quickly earning a reputation for being hard-working and dependable. I worked out the other day that I've earned at least  £16 000 from modelling since I started- and whilst I've spent basically all of it (and a bit of my  £250 000 fortune as well), I can smile at the knowledge that my income will only increase, the more experience I get. It's a good job too, as my wardrobe has almost doubled over the last year, and my shoe collection has trebled! I also now have more jewellery, cosmetics and accessories than I'll ever need, and I even rival Charlotte in that regard. We've also switched rooms, as we said we would- and after redecorating in the summer, I can finally say I have a bedroom that is 100% Jamie-Lee's.

My modelling jobs have been quite varied- at least three-quarters were basic fashion- dresses, skirts, suits, trousers (which I'm still strangely uncomfortable in). Then I've also done shoes (apparently I have beautiful feet), lingerie, make-up, swimwear, fancy dress, a couple of dancewear shoots, a couple of bridal wear shoots, one shoot for a PVC clothing company which I instantly regretted (the thick gothic makeup was fun but the PVC leotard they had me wear might actually be in violation of the Geneva Convention) and plenty of hair and make-up shoots. I've done a couple of trade shows too, but I tend to steer clear of those after one show in the summer where I spent all day wearing a bright pink wig and a miniskirt, crop top, elbow-length gloves and go-go boots all made out of orange vinyl. Definitely one of the most surreal experiences of my life. The bridal shoots are my favourites though. I get to spend all day dressed up as a princess trying on dozens of beautiful dresses, not to mention the sexy lingerie (yes, even the corsets), jewellery, accessories (I've kept four pairs of bicep-length satin gloves I'll never wear!), beautiful make-up... I'm always asking Joshua if he can get me more of this type of work!

I've grown my hair over the last eight months so it's now shoulder-length. I briefly went brunette a couple of months ago but quickly reverted back to blonde. It's true what they say- we really do have more fun! My face has also changed. I've had what little facial hair I've had removed via electrolysis, and the hormones I've been taking have actually made my face more feminine. I have (admittedly quite small) dimples now!

The rest of my body has fundamentally changed. My skin is now a lot softer and smoother. My waist has narrowed (a diet and a quick dalliance with shape wear helped here too) whilst my hips and backside have widened- fortunately not enough to put me up a dress size, given how much I spend on clothes! My genitals have considerably shrunk- they weren't particularly big to begin with- and are now effectively non-functional with all the hormones I've been taking. I had minor surgery on my voice box (and had what little Adam's Apple I had shrunk down to invisible size) in June after developing a nodule on it from talking with my feminine voice for so long. Now, I no longer need to put on a girly voice- I have one naturally! Of course, Charlotte mercilessly teased me during my recovery after I was left unable to speak for days on end- and when my voice did return, it was a little different than it was before- but I made sure I gave as good as I got, voice or no voice!

And then, there are my breasts. Over the course of several months they gradually swelled from my original (the word 'normal' would be inappropriate here) flat chest to somewhere between an AA and an A cup. However, they also became extremely sensitive, meaning the theatrical glue used to attach the breast forms to my chest quickly became unbearable. After a few weeks of using special padded bras, two and a half weeks ago I took the plunge and went under the knife. I am now the proud owner of a pair of perky C-cup breasts that are all mine. Of course, I still have the scars to look forward to, but the same website that sold me the glue also sells special make-up to help cover it up. And it just feels so good to have breasts of my own. I can go out now and wear low-cut tops, bikinis, strapless dresses without fear of any 'peeling' incidents. Okay, I don't wear many of those clothes in December, but Charlotte's promised me a week-long break in Australia at the end of January, and I just can't wait!

I've also taken the time to expand myself as a person, not just as a woman. Despite Charlotte's teasing, I enrolled on several adult learning courses at my local college. I've got the GCSEs I wanted so badly- after just six months, too- and am currently studying IT and administration two nights a week. I'm even taking driving lessons. And, of course, I still study ballet- harder than ever in fact, even practising in my spare time since graduating onto pointe shoes last week- and Ellen's offered to teach me other forms of dance too, such as jazz, tap and modern. Once I perform adequately in a ballet recital, of course! I've also taken up blogging- my website gets almost 100 hits a day! For obvious reasons, though, I leave my 'status' out of it. I've not yet had one person comment on the photos on my blog and ask 'were you born a boy?' or similar.

And I've finally got some acting work! Admittedly it is just work as an extra, but I've been in the background of several episodes of EastEnders and spent a couple of weeks up in Scotland filming the latest series of Waterloo Road- spending the whole of the summer in school uniform was just unreally strange!

I turned 20 in September, which Charlotte insisted on celebrating with a 'schoolgirl' theme (largely because of my new-found acting career). Charlotte had originally wanted a 'Black Swan' theme- and had bought the costumes for it- but as I wasn't en pointe yet (and would be the only girl there who wasn't), she decided at the last minute to go with the schoolgirl theme instead. The two of us- and six of our closest girl friends (mostly met through modelling)- hit seemingly every nightclub in London. If was possibly the best night out I've ever had- topped off, naturally, by Charlotte having me dance- in my school uniform (under which I wore a really tight corset) and 7" stripper-style platform sandals- up on a podium with a 6' 6" male stripper who seemed to be made out of solid wood. I have to admit, it was so much fun, even if I did cringe at the photos Charlotte put on Facebook the following day!

It's a good job I have all these distractions and friends to keep me occupied, as my love life has been... well, it's not been great. I never did get a call from Andrew- Ricky, however, was eager to meet up with me. We went out for about five weeks- even resulting in an update of my Facebook status- but the lack of sex was off-putting for both of us. Aside from a half-drunken blowjob at Charlotte's 20th in May there really wasn't any sexual contact between us. I only really got away with the blowjob as Charlotte's party had a 'playboy bunny' theme and the leotard and corset I was wearing basically prevented anything else (it- and the fact I needed to keep his hands away from my boobs- also meant I didn't drink much that night. Except, well, you know). I dunno what it is about Charlotte's parties that we always end up wearing leotards, corsets or both. It got especially ridiculous at the Royal Wedding party when everyone went wearing wedding dresses- including Ricky and Keith, hilariously!- and Charlotte's dress was little more than a white corset with some fringing pretending to be a skirt. I guess when you look like Charlotte- or me- you have to flaunt it. Anyway, Ricky and I separated amicably a week later and over the summer I started dating a student named Michael who I met up in Scotland. That, however, went much the same way (only this time, I sucked his penis twice. Yeah, so I like the taste. Sue me) though I at least had the 'long-distance relationship' excuse. I've even entertained the thought of dating girls- and have flirted with a few at nightclubs- but I am what I am, and that is a 100% straight woman. So I'm currently single, sexy and frustrated. The doctors tell me it'll be at least two years from now before I can have the surgery to create female genitals, and another six months after that before I'll be able to have sex. I don't want to wait two and a half years! I've even considered offering up anal sex- and briefly used some 'specialist equipment' ordered off the internet to help 'loosen me up', but even that would raise too many questions as to why regular sex is off the table ('why is your vagina made of latex?' being top of that list). So on nights out I either hang out with my girls or sit in the corner, alone and unwanted. Fortunately, Charlotte's always on hand to help cheer me up!

Ah yes, Charlotte. She's been even busier than I have. What she said about Spencer & Hall making models into their own brands wasn't an exaggeration. Since signing for them, Charlotte has modelled on four different continents (five after this January), earned- by her calculations- over a quarter of a million pounds (the significance of that amount is not lost on me) and has been featured in articles in newspapers, magazines, the internet- she even has her own Wikipedia page! Despite her rise to fame though, she is still the lonely orphan who needed me all that time ago. Over the last eight months, we truly have become BFFs. When she's not jetting around the world being a supermodel we go everywhere together, swapping stories, clothes, make-up- we share absolutely everything. Except one thing. Keith.

Keith now virtually lives with Charlotte- and, I suppose, me- only going back up north when he's studying. Whenever he's around I am the third wheel, and I've come to accept that, I really have- I do have other friends, after all. It's just- me and him have become closer as well over the last eight months (though it is hard not to be close to someone you once deep-throated). Whenever Keith and Charlotte argue (which is more often than you might think), I often find myself fielding calls from the both of them and almost always have to play the role of peacemaker. He opens up to me about his worries at university and is always on hand to lend a sympathetic ear whenever life gets me down. And with the hormones I'm taking, that can be quite often. I'm still madly in love with him- which, fortunately, he and Charlotte are both oblivious too- and every day I spend around him I just want him more. He's the only person I've ever really been able to open up to. Sure, he can be a bit oblivious at time, but I know inside he has a heart of gold. I really don't know what he sees in Charlotte- okay, other than her being a supermodel- as dearly as I love them both, his sweet nature and her dominating personality are such polar opposites it's just unreal sometimes.

So, that's life. It's Christmas in seven days- I've got expensive surprises lined up for both Keith and Charlotte (appropriate ones, of course). Work's dried up a little so I have the next week entirely free (but I'm working every day of the first week in January), during which I intend to make my first Christmas as Jamie-Lee the best Christmas anyone anywhere has ever had!

First off though, I begin my day as every day for the past eight months has begun. I take a shower- it's so good to feel the warm water on my bare breasts- swallow my hormone pills and apply my make-up. Over the months my 'style' has definitely developed from 'slouchy college chick' to 'chic fashion model'. No more hoodies and denim skirts for me- not when I go out, anyway! I've taken a lot of tips from Charlotte and am now loads more feminine in appearance and demeanour than the more androgynous girl I was before. Glittery eye shadow and hot pink lipstick complement my thick eyeliner and mascara, not to mention the deep red polish on my fingers and toes. I step into a clean vagina panty and secure it to my body. The more my penis shrinks, the less I really need this, but I want to project a 100% feminine appearance at all times, even if the thing I'm projecting can't be seen! Charlotte did eventually get me a few more of these, so I have five that I rotate on a daily basis. Well I say five, but in typical Charlotte fashion, one of them had been vajazzled. It didn't stop me from (occasionally) wearing it, though! I select a matching lacy bra and thong set and slowly slip them on, loving the still- new sensation of my nipples touching the soft lining of the bra and the familiar sensation of the thong slowly slipping between my buttocks. I've developed a new appreciation for bras ever since getting my implants- before, they were just 'there'- garments that pulled on my shoulders and back- but now the support they offer is invaluable. Sure, they still pull on my shoulders and back, but they now cushion my boobs as well and keep me comfortable throughout the day no matter what I'm doing. I pull a camisole over my head- it's December, it's cold- and head over to my wardrobe.

My outfit for the day is a tight black miniskirt with a very tight red turtleneck sweater that shows off my new figure beautifully. After putting on my jewellery (including a new pair of silver earrings), a pair of sheer black tights and a pair of 5" stilettos ready when me and Charlotte head out for lunch later (I don't have to wear them now, but I've grown to love walking in high heels. And being 5' 10"!), I head down to the kitchen for breakfast.

I flick through the newspapers to see if Charlotte's in any of them, or any of the magazines. She isn't this time, but it's to be expected in the run-up to Christmas. I while away the time looking through the fashion editorials in the magazines before Charlotte and Keith arrive home just after 11.

"Hey!" I say enthusiastically, greeting my BFF with a hug. She's wearing one of her usual church dresses- knee-length, form-fitting and very elegant. It's in a dark purple with matching 5" stilettos, black tights and black leather gloves. I make a mental note to try the look out sometime.

"Hey Jay," Charlotte replies, using my new nickname. We sit down next to each other at the kitchen table as Keith puts the coats away. "I like the look, by the way- isn't that one of my sweaters?" I smirk at Charlotte.

"Nope," I say with a smug grin. "All mine." Charlotte simply pouts, and then beams an evil grin at me.

"Then I guess I'm going to have to go shopping tomorrow!" The young supermodel confidently announces.

"Excuse me," I say boldly, holding up a finger, "don't you mean WE'RE going to have to go shopping tomorrow?" Charlotte does her best to maintain a straight face.

"My mistake," she says stoically, before we both collapse into a fit of giggles. Naturally, Keith chooses this exact moment to walk in on us- which just makes us giggle even more!

"What?" Keith asks, perplexed by the two hysterical girls in front of him.

"Oh relax," I say, rolling my eyes, "we weren't laughing at you!" I turn to face Charlotte again, and once again, the giggles return. Nine months ago, this sort of behaviour would have irritated the hell out of me. Now, though, I just can't get enough of it!

"Are you going to get changed, babe?" Keith asks Charlotte and I try not to show any emotion at his use of 'babe', no matter how much I might want him to direct that word toward me.

"In a bit," Charlotte replies. "Got plenty of time before the taxi arrives." Keith looks awkwardly in my direction.

"Yeah," he says uneasily, "but I thought you and I could- thought maybe I could, you know, give you a hand?" Charlotte mouths a silent 'oh' as she catches on to what Keith was implying.

"I'll be right back, Jay," Charlotte says, sashaying away from the table. "Just need to, you know, 'change'." I sigh and roll my eyes, prompting a giggle from Charlotte as she links hands with Keith and heads up to her bedroom. So, once again, I'm left on my own with my thoughts. And the only thing I can think right now is 'I wish he was with me and not her'.

Sure enough, Charlotte doesn't re-emerge until five minutes before we're due to leave. She's wearing a tight little black dress with long sleeves, lighter tights than previously and, of course, 6" stilettos. In stocking feet, we're the same height, but she has this obsessive 'King of Siam' thing that she always has to have her head higher than mine, even if it's just by an inch. We grab our expensive designer coats and handbags and head out of the front door.

Out meeting- well, informal lunch really, hence why it's being held on a Sunday- is with a producer from a TV company. Charlotte's rise to fame has been meteoric, and the world- particularly those who regularly watch ITV2- have noticed. The posh bistro Charlotte chose for the lunch is right in the centre of London, so naturally as we step out of the taxi there are paparazzi waiting for us. Charlotte flashes a few sultry smiles for the camera, but I keep my distance. Sure, my whole career depends on people taking photographs of me, but- compared to Charlotte, anyway- I'm a nobody. I've been out with Charlotte loads of times when she's been snapped by the press, but I've never been in any of the photos. Though I will admit this is at least partly a conscious decision- having a popular blog and YouTube channel is one thing, but having your photo in a national newspaper is just inviting people to point out 'hey, that's not a woman'. Still though, a part of me does yearn for the limelight...

We step inside the bistro and Charlotte strides up the TV producer, air-kissing him like she's known him his whole life despite the fact they'd only ever communicated by email or phone. He politely shakes my hand- no air kisses for me- before sitting down and talking business with Charlotte.

At no point during the 55-minute conversation does my involvement in Charlotte's life come under discussion. Sure, I offer comments- which are quickly moved past- but whilst Keith, Charlotte's father, even Joshua are mentioned, I'm not. Even if she doesn't want to mention the way Charlotte became a millionaire supermodel- which I fully understand if she doesn't- I'd kinda thought that having lived with the girl for eight months, supporting her every step of the way would be enough for a few seconds of the pre-interview informal chat. As we exit the bistro into our waiting taxi, I can't help but feel like more of an accessory than a friend, let alone a BFF. Much to my surprise, the usually not-that-sensitive Charlotte picks up on this after I fasten my seatbelt and cross my arms and my legs, pouting out the window.

"Jay," she begins softly, sensing my unhappiness, "is everything alright?"

"I dunno, is everything alright?" I ask back snidely. After being around her for eight months, some of Charlotte was eventually going to rub off on me. "If I vanished tomorrow, would you even notice?"

"How can you even ask that?" Charlotte asks indignantly. "You're my best friend, the closest friend I've ever had, of course I'd notice! What the hell's brought this on all of a sudden?" I simply shake my head, embarrassed at my outburst.

"I dunno, I'm sorry, I just-" I begin, struggling to find the best way to express my feelings. "I mean, I'm so happy for your success, I really am, it's just- oh god, this is gonna sound so lame- it's just, I can't help but feel a little, you know, small." Charlotte laughs, but kindly, and I just feel even smaller.

"Oh Jay," Charlotte says, placing a comforting hand on my arm, "is that really it? The green-eyed monster?"

"No," I lie, "I don't want to be as famous as you are," yet... "I just- I dunno, I just want my fair share, y'know?"

"I'm sorry," Charlotte says with confusion, "you think I'm holding you back somehow?" I turn back to face my friend with an apologetic look of my own on my face.

"No, of course not-" I begin before being interrupted.

"Because believe me," Charlotte continues, authoritatively, "you've done a lot more in these last eight months than I did in my first eight months modelling. Sure, I was 14, you're 20, but you've become professional almost overnight. Don't forget the part I played in that." Charlotte stares at me for a few seconds before a look of horror spreads across my face.

"Oh, my, god," Charlotte says, staring straight ahead, hands clasped to her mouth with a thousand-yard stare on her face. "Oh my god Jay, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Charlotte?" I ask with genuine concern for my friend. "Are you okay?"

"I'm turning into my dad," she whispers, before we both collapse into a fit of giggles together.

"I doubt it," I say through the laughter, "he doesn't look as good in heels!" Charlotte literally cries with laughter and I follow immediately behind her. Once we've settled down, the atmosphere in the taxi is noticeably less tense.

"So what is it really, Jay?" Charlotte candidly asks me. I simply smile and shake my head.

"It's not just jealousy," I explain openly. "Partly, but not fully. You're the big star and I just feel like a hanger-on. I mean in there, almost an hour with me sat right there, my name doesn't come up once."

"I thought that was what you wanted," Charlotte confesses, genuinely shocked by my revelation. "I left you out because I thought you didn't want the publicity because of, well, y'know."

"I guess I thought that too," I confess, opening my heart to my best friend. "But I figure now, after everything that's happened the last eight months... This is a path I'm committed to. So what if people find out about my past? That's unimportant. It's my future that's most important." Charlotte beams a wide grin.

"At the risk of sounding more like my father, I'm proud of you," she says as I reciprocate her warm smile. "And if you want to be in the documentary, then you shall be. I'll make sure it happens, you have my word on that. There's just one thing that I'm kinda concerned about..." Charlotte pauses for a second, and I immediately catch on to what she's thinking.

"My parents?" I ask, my heart immediately fluttering with nerves at the mere thought of the people who raised me.

"Yeah," Charlotte says, herself nervous at the idea. "I always assumed that was why you always stayed out of the limelight, that someone might recognise you?" For someone who on the outside is a bimbo supermodel, Charlotte's a lot smarter than she lets on.

"As I said, that's all in the past," I state firmly. "I am who I am, not who I was." A few minutes later, the taxi drops us home and we step out and into the warmth of the house. Unsurprisingly, Keith's there waiting for us- or rather, waiting for Charlotte, whom he greets with a long, deep kiss, the likes of which I can only reminisce about. As he hangs up our coats, Charlotte continues our earlier conversation.

"I thought your shrink recommended that you go speak to your parents months ago?" She asks as I squirm.

"Well, yeah," I say awkwardly. "I mean, she definitely recommended that I go see them..."

"And, of course, you knew better?" Charlotte says, folding her arms.

"Yes," I reply, still feeling awkward at the grilling I'm getting. Charlotte simply rolls her eyes.

"This is something you need to do, Jay," Charlotte says with a sigh as we head up toward my room.

"But why?" I ask desperately. "They haven't seen me in over three years. We don't even exchange Christmas cards. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They're a part of my past. All I care about is my future." I open the door to my room and step inside, preventing Charlotte from following me. "End of story." I close the door in her concerned face, though a part of me is forced to admit she's right. The past eight months have been like a dream, a fantasy. I frequently find myself asking if any of it is real. Sometimes, even, parts of my past life burst through and I find myself almost horrified by how much of a girl I've become. Those moments, however, are few and far between and getting ever scarcer. Becoming a girl truly is the best thing that ever happened to me.

And yet, as I change out of my chic clothes into a slouchy pink hoodie and denim miniskirt (I still wear them... but only on the sofa!) I can't help but reminisce about the life I had. Not the three years as James the loser, but the years before, when I was in school, had a family... A part of me, a very big part of me wants that again. To go back and be accepted as their child. As I gently caress the stretched skin over my breasts, though, I know I can never have it exactly the way it was before. My parents were barely tolerant of James right up to the point they kicked me out- what will they say to Jamie-Lee suddenly turning up on their doorstep?

The rest of the day passes without the topic coming up again. Me, Charlotte and Keith crash on the sofa, watching TV and a couple of DVDs and occasionally updating Facebook and twitter. At about 11pm, Keith heads off to bed (university has finished for the year so he's staying in London until he has to go back to Sheffield in mid-January) leaving me and Charlotte to pick up our conversation from earlier.

"I'm sorry if I slammed the door in your face earlier," I concede to Charlotte.

"No, no," she says, equally apologetic, "I shouldn't have pressed the matter. I mean, it's not like I've seen my father since... since Jamie-Lee was born." This is true. In fact, it's the first time she's even mentioned her father since my life changed. "If you don't want to see your parents, you shouldn't let anyone force you. Not your shrink, and certainly not me." I pause briefly whilst I take this in.

"What if I force myself to see them?" I ask quietly. Charlotte holds her hands to her mouth, deep in thought over how to answer me.

"You'd need to make sure it was something you truly, truly wanted," she says quietly.

"Would you come with me?" I ask, trying desperately not to sound like a pathetic child asking an impossible favour from an older sibling. Fortunately, Charlotte simply smiles.

"Of course I will, you know you don't need to ask!" Charlotte and I exchange a brief hug.

"Thank you," I whisper, beginning to shake slightly at the thought of revealing myself- Jamie-Lee- to the people who made, well, James. "I'll call Doctor Phillips tomorrow, after ballet."

"After ballet AND shopping?" Charlotte corrects me.

"My bad," I say with a devilish grin, prompting yet another giggling fit from myself and Charlotte.

We both turn in not long afterwards, and I struggle to get to sleep as the weight of my decision to meet my parents again suddenly begins to dawn on me...

My iPhone's alarm wakes me up at 8:45am and after showering, taking my pills, ensuring everything about my look is perfect (including razoring off a couple of stray leg hairs) and slipping into my most comfortable bra & thong set, I pull on a dressing gown and head downstairs for breakfast. I keep quiet whilst Charlotte talks about our day ahead- shopping later is going to include preparations for our Christmas party- but I can tell by the glances we exchange that she's concerned about me.

Fortunately, Ellen arrives half an hour after breakfast to begin our ballet lesson, and suddenly I feel a lot calmer having my other confidante with me. After checking that my pink tights and my blue spaghetti-strapped leotard are smooth (yes, including 'down there') and wrinkle-free (not hard as leotards are the only clothes to have got tighter following my body's change), that my hair is tied up into a perfect bun (despite being a private tutor, Ellen is an absolute stickler for protocol) and that my pointe shoes are attached properly and securely, I head over to the barre with Charlotte to begin our warm-up exercises. Almost immediately as I do, however, Ellen can sense something's amiss.

"Am I going to have to remind you to concentrate throughout the whole 90 minutes?" Ellen teases as I run through my plies.

"I'll do my best," I say as I dip down low, trying my best to focus on the dancing.

"Oh I know you will," Ellen says in a stern yet friendly manner, "I just need to know if something's bothering you, that's all."

"It's a biggie," Charlotte blabs from her end of the bar, having finished her plies and begun her stretches. I roll my eyes- which Charlotte and Ellen can both clearly see in the studio's mirror- and begin my own stretches.

"Oh god," Ellen says with disappointment in her voice, "more boy trouble? By which I mean, have you dumped yet ANOTHER guy?"

"I've only had two boyfriends in the last eight months," I say aloud, immediately cringing as I realise what I said (and at Charlotte's snort of laughter). "And no, it's not about that." I wait for Charlotte to interject, but despite her snort of laughter, even she is sensitive enough to remain silent. "It's about my parents." Ellen immediately senses what I mean by this.

"You've decided to go and meet them," she states quietly. "Okay, come and sit in the centre." Me and Charlotte dutifully obey, sitting down in the centre of the floor cross-legged.

"It's your last lesson of the year, we can afford a bit of time out," Ellen states, sitting down with us.

"I take it they wouldn't be too understanding if you showed up out of the blue the way you are," my teacher says, at which I quietly nod.

"They're pretty old-fashioned," I confirm. "Dad in particular is really homophobic. And racist, for that matter. He's not, you know, a hooligan, but he's not shy about voicing his opinions. He'd likely just call me 'Julian Clary' and kick me out immediately."

"What about your mum?" Ellen asks cautiously.

"She'd-" I pause, looking down and trying hard not to cry. "I don't know. I'd like to think she'd love me no matter what, but with Dad- I just don't know!" At this, the tears start freely flowing. Charlotte is instantly at my side, hugging me and letting me cry myself out on her shoulder.

"You want a family," Charlotte says softly. "We all do..."

"It's not like we were particularly close beforehand," I croak, having finally calmed down. "Mum and dad both worked, they never had any time for me. Then they decided I wasn't meeting their standards so they kicked me out, like I was their underperforming employee rather than their underperforming so-" I pause before completing that word.

"I'm finished for Christmas after today," Ellen announces. "If you do decide to go and meet them obviously I'll go with you." I smile and almost begin crying again, tears of gratitude.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Now," Ellen announces firmly, standing up, "you girls aren't paying me to chat, you're paying me to teach. I want to see what you've learned." I beam a broad grin and get to my feet as well, heading over to the barre to impress Ellen with the numerous steps I'd learned over the past eight months.

For the last half-hour of the lesson, Ellen gives me and Charlotte a special 'Christmas treat', allowing us to change into the costumes we'd had made for our upcoming recital in May. They're absolutely gorgeous- I'm wearing a pink tulle tutu that sticks out at least eight inches from my laced-in waist. The shoulders are big and puffy, the bodice is covered in pink silk roses, and the panty section is covered in layers of frivolous ruffles. With my tiara, sparkling earrings and shiny satin pointe shoes, I look and feel just like a princess as I pose in various ballet steps whilst Charlotte and Ellen photograph me for my blog.

I have a renewed confidence about me as Charlotte and I wave Ellen off (still wearing our tutus despite her protestations!) at the end of the lesson. I'm no longer nervous about what my family might say about me when I have a true family at home.

"Okay," Keith says, catching sight of Charlotte and myself heading indoors in our costume. "You two look, well, um,"

"Lovely?" I ask, trying not to laugh at Keith's squirming.

"Gorgeous?" Charlotte asks cheekily.

"Yeah, those," Keith says, hastily back-pedalling. Naturally, Charlotte and I lose the ability to keep straight faces and collapse into a fit of giggles. We soon sober up though, as a taxi is picking us up in half an hour for something far more important- shopping! We both quickly change- Charlotte into a black, knee-length pencil skirt (and killer heels, naturally), me into a tight black top (baring some cleavage, naturally) and a tartan miniskirt with shiny black tights underneath. And 4" heeled bootees, of course. After making a quick phone call to my shrink to set up an appointment for this afternoon, we jump into our waiting taxi and drive away.

Charlotte and I meet up with two of our modelling friends- Kristie and Mary- at a coffee shop and after a couple of drinks, head into the city centre to begin our shopping spree. Most of it is spent picking up our costumes and other essentials for our Christmas party on Thursday. Charlotte's gone for a 'Pan Am' theme, having quickly developed an obsession with that show, so the four of us have all had matching blue skirt suits made, complete with gloves, hats, 5" black leather heels and authentic-looking bags. Charlotte and I even have authentic sixties underwear to wear underneath the suits- with all the discomfort that brings! Charlotte and I pick up a couple of new dresses each (one of mine being a very chic form-fitting LBD) before leaving Kristie and Mary, as it's time for the appointment I can't put off any longer.

"Hello Jamie, Charlotte," Dr. Phillips greets us as we enter her office and take a seat. "I take it from your phone call this morning you have something important you wanted to discuss with me?" I take a deep breath and vainly try to settle my nerves.

"Yes," I confirm. "Yes I do." I pause, nervously trying to put together the words I need to say in my head. "It's about my parents."

"I see," Dr. Phillips says understandingly (I really lucked out getting her as my shrink- she's patient, understanding, and most importantly, tolerant of all my little, well, 'quirks'). "I remember I recommended that you went to visit them months ago- just before your throat surgery, as I recall- can I take it from the fact that I've not heard any feedback that you haven't done this yet?" I nod, embarrassed at my behaviour.

"That's okay," Dr. Phillips reassures me. "Everybody transitions in their own time and at their own pace. But you know I can't reassure your surgeons that you've fully committed to this transition until you see them." I nod again, trying not to break down like I have so often done in this office.

"I just- I just don't want them to reject me," I blub, prompting Charlotte to grab my hand.

"You'll always be a part of MY family," my BFF reassures me, but it's not quite enough.

"I'm guessing the reason you've asked for this meeting is that you want me to act as a go-between?" Dr. Phillips enquires. I nod again, desperately trying to control my tears. "That's absolutely fine. You're hardly the first transgendered person I've had in this office who's requested that from me. Would you like me to make the call during this meeting?" I swallow and take a deep breath.

"I want you to make the call right now," I state, trying to make my shaky voice sound as confident as possible. "I don't want to let myself back out of it."

"Of course," Dr. Phillips says quietly. "I need to be reassured though that this is absolutely what you want."

"We're paying you by the hour," Charlotte interjects defensively, earning herself a brief death glare from me. "Yes it's what she wants!" Dr. Phillips simply smirks- this is only her fourth or fifth meeting with Charlotte but I've discussed her a lot in our meetings (obviously though in our version of things I volunteered rather than got kidnapped).

"I'm sure this is what I want," I state firmly, the tears having finally stopped. Dr. Phillips simply nods and dials the number I provided to her several months ago.

"Hello?" Dr. Phillips asks, and I take a nervous breath, prompting Charlotte to squeeze my hand even tighter. "Is that Mr Philip Travis?" Shit, she's talking to dad... I think to myself as I squeeze Charlotte's hand back.

"My name is Dr. Beverly Phillips," she continues. "I'm a psychiatrist, and your son, James-" Eight months on, that just gets weirder and weirder- "is one of my patients. I understand that you and he-" still weird- "have not spoken in some time?" Dr. Phillips pauses whilst my dad talks to her (though obviously I can't hear what he's saying).

"I see," Dr. Phillips says stoically. "Your son has asked me to contact you as he's changed a lot in the last few years-" both Charlotte and I giggle at this, despite ourselves- "and he's expressed a desire to see both you and your wife again. I understand that this is right out of the blue, but with Christmas looming, Jamie-" I grimace as Dr. Phillips makes this uncharacteristic slip-up, I was never called that growing up- "has told me that he really wants to make amends." Again, Dr. Phillips pauses whilst my father talks. "No, he isn't here at the moment-" perhaps not a TOTAL lie under the circumstances- "but I can certainly pass on a message and/or arrange a meeting." Dr. Phillips pauses again, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her smile.

"On the contrary," the doctor states warmly. "James is in no trouble at all. I am aware of his past, but in the time I've known him he has progressed leaps and bounds. He has a career, is studying part-time at college and has several close friends, all of whom care about him very much." Dr. Phillips pauses again whilst my father talks, but I'm breathing a LOT easier now. "Okay Mr Travis, I'll pass on the message and get back to you. Thank you for your time." Immediately as Dr. Phillips hangs up the phone, I'm blurting out questions.

"What did he say?" I ask hurriedly. "Is he okay? Is mum okay? Was mum there? Did he agree to a meeting?"

"Jamie!" Charlotte yells, laughing at my over-enthusiasm. "Give her a chance to answer, for crying out loud!"

"I'm -I'm sorry," I say, clasping my hands over my mouth in embarrassment.

"It's okay, it really is," Dr. Phillips reassures me with a wide grin. "Your parents are both fine, they both miss you and would like to meet up with you again." I fan myself with my hands and take deep breaths as she continues. "Let me know when you're free, I'll get back in touch with them this afternoon and arrange a meeting."

"Thursday or Friday would be fine," Charlotte says on my behalf.

"Then it's settled," Dr. Phillips says as I sit back and try to take in what just happened. In three or four days, I'm going to be presenting my parents with their daughter for the very first time...

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur. Dr. Phillips dispenses invaluable advice on how to deal with the meeting, my parents' inevitable shock, and the inevitable questions of 'why' and 'how'... Very little of it sinks in, though.

I'm quiet during the taxi ride home. Fortunately, if there's one thing Charlotte can do, better than anyone else, it's talk.

"Oh my god!" Charlotte exclaims as I sit back in silence. "I can't even begin to imagine what you must be feeling right now, you must be SO nervous! What are you going to say to them? More importantly, what are you going to wear?"

Charlotte's right- my heart is pounding, my mouth is dry and my hands are ice cold. I know they shouldn't be- as Charlotte said earlier, she'll always be there for me in a way my 'real' family haven't been for ages now. But they're still my parents, along with everything that entails.

I don't say a word on the way home other than the occasional 'yes' in agreement to Charlotte's enthusiasm. I'm quite happy to let her be excited for me. Once we're home- and Charlotte's flung herself mouth-first at Keith, of course- I quietly head into the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. Finally sensing that something's wrong, Charlotte enters the kitchen and sits down next to me.

"Hey," she says, sensing my discomfort, "hey, are you alright, Jay?" I quietly nod, but Charlotte knows me better than anyone else and can immediately sense when I'm not okay.

"Back in the car," she says nervously, "I didn't- I didn't get TOO excited, did I? I just thought, you know, this is a big deal and all that, and I- I dunno, I can't even imagine what you're going through."

"Really, it's fine," I say, easing Charlotte's worries. "It's just- this is it. Either I'm going to have a family again or I'm going to effectively be an orphan."

"You'll never be an orphan," Charlotte says sternly. "Not as long as you have your sister with you." She grabs my hands again and squeezes it tight.

"Thank you," I whisper, glad to have warmed my hands on my tea. The tender moment is interrupted when Keith enters the room unannounced to see the two of us holding hands.

"Is every-" Keith begins, before being interrupted by Charlotte.

"Girl problems," my BFF says sternly. "Out." Keith simply nods and leaves. You'd be simply amazed how powerful the phrase 'girl problems' is and the control it gives you over men! Charlotte and I never ceased to be amazed by it, which is why, less than three seconds after Keith leaves, the two of us collapse into a fit of giggles.

"You're right," I say to Charlotte. "As long as I have you, as I long as I have this," and as long as I have Keith, I think to myself, "I'll never be alone."

I spend the rest of the night curled up on the sofa opposite Charlotte and Keith, watching TV and/or playing games on my phone. After briefly trying on my Pan Am costume to make sure the fit is perfect, I re-paint my nails a deep, almost black shade of crimson, slip into a comfy nightie and dive between my sheets, trying desperately to take my mind off of my impending family reunion...

I'm awake at 7:30am on Tuesday, but for reasons other than my upcoming family reunion. After showering, applying my most expensive make-up and eating breakfast, I head back up to my room and strip down to my lacy black bra & thong, mentally preparing myself for the day ahead. I begin by clipping a matching garter belt around my waist and rolling a pair of dark stockings up my legs, making sure they are straight and smooth all the way up. It took a while, but I discovered that what Charlotte said eight months ago was so true- stockings are much sexier than tights, and when you feel sexier, you feel more confident. Today, I needed all the confidence I could get.

I open my wardrobe and pick out my favourite suit. I quickly zip myself into the skirt- a short black pencil skirt that hugs my legs tightly- and don my most expensive satin blouse. After making sure my make-up was immaculate, I tie my long, blonde hair back into a professional-looking (but not too serious) ponytail, fasten a dainty gold necklace around my neck and a thin chain around my wrist. After spraying on my most expensive perfume, pulling on the fitted black peplum jacket, slipping my feet into a pair of 5" black leather stiletto pumps and grabbing my most expensive handbag, I look (and feel) ready to conquer the world.

The taxi picks me up at 8:20, ready to whisk me into central London for my appointment with my agent. Whereas Charlotte could just click her fingers and have Joshua come running, I have to wait in line just like everybody else. In fact, Joshua made it quite clear how big a favour he was doing me just agreeing to a meeting this close to Christmas. Naturally, I have no intention of squandering this opportunity.

"Jamie!" Joshua greets me with air kisses as I enter his office.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me," I say with genuine gratitude as I sit down, unconsciously straightening my skirt and crossing my right leg over my left.

"It was the least I could do for my hardest-working model!" Joshua beams as he sits down behind his desk. "I take it you came here to discuss your little project, yes?"

"Yep!" I enthuse, trying to sound as positive and as confident as I could. The 'pet project' Joshua was referring to was something I'd been working hard to promote for weeks in my spare time.

Many models- and Charlotte is no exception here- gain extra income from using their identity as a brand, and the quickest way to do this is usually to produce your own calendar. Even though I didn't have the mainstream exposure Charlotte had- well, I don't have any mainstream exposure at all- I decided I wanted a piece of the action. It wasn't hard to locate a website where you could upload your images and create your own calendar, so, using my own money, I hired out Joshua's studio and a photographer and set about creating 12 images that I'd hoped would be plastered over people's walls throughout 2012.

(By the way, I'm not stupid. I used to be a man, so I know precisely why men buy those calendars. That isn't the point.)

In total, including editing the photos, I spent around  £600. So far- as of December 20, 2011- I've sold a grand total of 83 of them, all through the website. Given I've had to do 100% of the promotion and advertising myself, it's not a terrible total, but I can't help but look at the thousands upon thousands that Charlotte's sold...

"I've had a look at it," Joshua said, producing a copy of the calendar and flicking through it. "It's certainly well-produced, and the girl in the photos is very pretty!" I blush a little as Joshua compliments me, but his next words bring me crashing back down to Earth. "I'm sorry Jamie, as good as it is, it's a lot of money to invest to supply it to retailers. Especially as you've told me you've not broken even on website sales yet." With nothing to lose, I play my trump card in the hope that Joshua will change his mind.

"Charlotte's been in touch with a producer from ITV2," I explain. "They're interested in producing a documentary about her rise to fame."

"...And you reckon you can use it to raise your own profile?" Joshua asks, at which I nod in response. "Great idea. Any way you can raise your own profile is worth doing, but until that happens, I can't give you any more time and money. I'm sorry, I really am." Joshua leans forward on his desk, a sad look on his face.

"Jamie," he says softly, "you're my hardest-working model, and if you promise not to tell any of the other guys or girls- you're my favourite too. But I have to do what's in the business's best interests. Don't give up hope. Go away, produce your 2013 calendar- I'm happy to give you mate's rates on the studio again- and come back to me after Charlotte's show has aired."

"Okay," I say positively, forcing a smile on my face. "I will!"

"That's the spirit!" Joshua beams with his trademark brilliant smile.

I leave the office with a smile on my face but it evaporates quickly. This is a major setback- I've been signed with Joshua for eight months but it feels like I've stood still. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I call up Kristie with the promise of lunch and shopping. Obviously, Charlotte would normally be my first choice, but she told me this morning that under no circumstances was she to be disturbed. Charming.

"Hey Jamie!" Kristie greets me with a hug as we step into the coffee shop. "So, how'd the big meeting go?" I grimace as I sit down- enough of a response for Kristie to infer how it went.

"That bad, huh?" She asks.

"Could've been worse," I concede, "at least he didn't fire me." Kristie beams a sympathetic smile as she gestures over one of the waitresses.

"We all get setbacks," she explains. "You know by now how I rise above mine, right?" I grin wickedly as the waitress sets down a plate in front of me- on which is a large, gooey slice of chocolate tort.

"I love your outlook on life," I beam as I tuck into my treat. "Though was it that obvious I was gonna fail?"

"Hell no," Kristie retorts reassuringly, "that was meant to be a congratulatory tort!" I smile gratefully as Kristie continues talking. "I just got back from a long, boring swimwear shoot. Ugh, I hate the way one-pieces look on me."

"I dunno," I say reassuringly, "they wouldn't use your pics if they looked bad, surely?"

"Yeah, I tell myself that," Kristie replies. "Doesn't really help though." The difference between Kristie and Charlotte is enormous, as you might have been able to tell. Would Charlotte ever have confessed something like that? No chance.

"You know," I say with a crafty smile on my face, "I reckon that I make my 2013 calendar with not one, but two girls featured in it, it'd get more sales?"

"Umm, I'm not represented by your agent?" Kristie retorts. "I mean, I'd love to, but... it just wouldn't be appropriate."

"Yeah, well, Joshua's not interested in my calendar," I reply, "it's my project, and I decide who will and won't be in it." Kristie beams a wide grin and offers me her hand, which I gladly shake.

"You got a deal, partner!" She exclaims enthusiastically.

We spend about another 5 minutes discussing the calendar before the rest of the lunch turns into a good old-fashioned gossip session. Naturally, Charlotte is the main topic for most of it. After a very brief shopping session- I only pick up a new skirt and a pair of stilettos- I head home and eagerly strip out of my suit, unclipping my stockings and garter belt and rolling a comfortable, warm pair of ribbed black tights up my legs. After pulling on a pleated denim miniskirt, a clingy black long-sleeved top and of course a pair of my beloved Ugg boots, I head downstairs to see Charlotte cuddled up by herself on the sofa, wearing just a sweater and a knee-length grey skirt with what looks like opaque red tights underneath.

"Oh, hey Jay," Charlotte greets me half-heartedly, as if her mind is somewhere else.

"Hey," I reply, snuggling into the adjacent sofa. "No Keith tonight?"

"He's off in town with some of his old school friends," Charlotte explains. "Boy's night out. I'm sure you remember them?" Fortunately I know Charlotte well enough to know when she's just teasing me about my 'situation'.

"No, not really," I confess. "Even if I did, I doubt a boy's night out is as much fun as a girl's night in!" Charlotte grins and snuggles deeper into her chair.

"Have you decided yet what you're wearing tomorrow?" She asks me. Tomorrow is, of course, the first day of filming, so it'll probably be the most important outfit I wear all year.

"I've got a couple of ideas," I say. "I haven't worn that expensive leather skirt of mine yet, probably that and a pair of boots." Charlotte nods her approval. "What are you wearing?" Charlotte grins wickedly and stands up before me. I'm surprised- her sweater and skirt are both tight and sexy but they're a little... subdued for Charlotte. Very soon, though, everything becomes clear as Charlotte steps out of the skirt and sweater to reveal that what I thought was a pair of red tights was actually a skin-tight- very skin-tight- red unitard. Charlotte retrieves a pair of 6" red stilettos from under the sofa and stands before me in her... bizarre outfit.

"Wow." I say, dumbstruck. "It's... red..." Charlotte beams a wide grin through her suddenly overtly red lips.

"I knew you'd love it!" She exclaims, skipping over to me and giving me a quick hug. I have to fidget not to get impaled by the inch-long scarlet extensions she's had glued to her nails. "The whole Lady Gaga look is in," Charlotte explains. "Eccentric is the new sexy, and as I'm the sexiest person in the world right now, I have to keep up appearances, y'know?"

"Uh-huh..." I answer, still shocked by the sheer redness of her outfit.

"Oh, don't worry," Charlotte says with a grin, "I've got one for you as well. You'll have to wait until Christmas for it, though!" I try to stifle a shiver as my BFF lets this slip.

"Great!" I feign excitement as I try to draw my eyes away from Charlotte. I can wear even my tightest dance leotard without any discomfort or anything (if you know what I mean) showing but this... thing looks like it'll be a torture test simply getting into it.

Fortunately, Charlotte's enthusiasm dies down after a while and she slips out of her shoes, putting her skirt and sweater back on and snuggling back into the sofa.

"I got a call from the producers today," she says quietly. "They want me to meet my father. You know, for the documentary." I nod understandingly- I had guessed this might be coming.

"What did you say?" I ask softly.

"I told them I'd think about it," Charlotte confesses, her top lip wobbling with emotion. I can tell my BFF services are going to be needed very soon.

"I don't know, Jay," Charlotte continues. "I mean, he killed my mum, I don't ever want to see him again, but he's still my dad- and- I-" by this point Charlotte completely breaks down sobbing. Of course, I offer my shoulder for her to cry on, just as she's done for me so many times over the last few months. I hold her for the next few minutes as she alternates between sobbing and talking about her father. I'm not at all surprised when she sits up, looks me in the eye and asks me her next question.

"Will you- will you come with me?" She asks, genuinely afraid that I would say no.

"Of course I will," I say, hugging Charlotte. "Hey, you're coming with me to meet my dad, right?"

"Well, yeah," she replies, "but this is big, you know, with the cameras and all..." Typical Charlotte... I think to myself.

"We're BFFs," I explain. "We do everything together. Everything." Charlotte beams a wide grin and nods. It's only when she's at her most vulnerable that I see how delicate Charlotte truly is, and that she truly values my friendship, as much as I value hers. Sure, her ego may be the size of the planet, but every time I've needed her, she's been there. How could I not offer her the same?

We stay up until 11pm watching TV, chatting and laughing and trying to take each other's minds off of our upcoming reunions. I'll admit I'm glad when Charlotte announces bedtime, and I can slip on a comfortable cotton nightie and climb between my sheets.

I'm less glad when Charlotte wakes me up at 7am the following morning, dragging me out of bed and demanding that I lace her into her tightest corset.

"Can't Keith do it?" I whine as Charlotte leads me by the hand back to her room, where Keith is fortunately nowhere to be found.

"No," Charlotte explains, "his job is taking it off at the end of the night." Should've guessed... I self-pityingly think to myself. "Besides, he never does it tight enough, he's afraid he'll hurt me, the big baby. You at least do it up tight."

Sure enough, five minutes later I'm lacing Charlotte into the black garment, a heavy overbust corset made out of shiny black satin with stiff boning. Her natural 26 inch waist is soon whittled down to 20 inches despite her gasped pleas for me to stop (which I know better than to heed). I can certainly sympathise with her 'plight', though- Charlotte only bought the corset after seeing me model it in a shoot in August and has only worn it twice before (and before you ask, yes I do own one myself).

"The line of the corset will show through that catsuit thing you're planning on wearing," I explain as Charlotte detaches the garters from the corset.

"I'm not wearing that," Charlotte explains. "It's too close to Christmas, red's a cliché." Charlotte rolls a pair of very thin tights up her legs and retrieves a scandalously short, tight black minidress from her wardrobe, stepping into it and letting me zip it shut for her. Once she's in her six and a half inch heels though, even I have to admit she is the sexiest thing I've seen in a long, long time. Even if her dress does bare the bottom of her buttocks with every step she takes. Once Charlotte has her most expensive jewellery on, she turns to me.

"Oh- my- god," I exclaim sincerely. "You will knock them senseless, you really will." Charlotte grins and hugs me excitedly.

"Okay, now let's get you into your corset," she says, bewildering me briefly.

"Um, I'm not wearing a corset?" I ask, already knowing how futile my argument will be.

"The camera adds 15 pounds to you," Charlotte explains. "Best to take 20 off now and get a head start, right?"

"I'll wear my black top and a red skirt instead," I plead as Charlotte drags me back to my room, moving surprisingly quickly in her monstrous heels.

"Nonsense," Charlotte dismisses my pleas. "The outfit you picked out with the white jumper is perfect and that leather skirt is stunning on you. You just need a little help with the waist, that's all. Don't worry, I know you can't wear an overbust corset yet, not until your boobs have healed, but I know for a fact you've got plenty of waist cinchers in your drawers. Now come on!" I open my mouth to plead but I know it's pointless. Sure enough, before too long I'm gasping and wincing as my waist is whittled down to a mere 22 inches by the boned contraption Charlotte has pulled tight against my waist.

I will admit though, with my tight jumper around my curvy chest and svelte waist, sexy tight skirt, sheer black stockings and knee-high boots on, I'm very nearly as sexy as Charlotte herself. Charlotte's grin as I walk out of my bedroom and do a twirl for her tells me that she clearly thinks the same- sexy enough to be associated with her, but not too sexy that I overshadow her. It's a look I've mastered over the last nine months.

"Ready?" Charlotte asks, grabbing my hand in hers. I grin and nod, and we head down the stairs, where Keith is already waiting. His jaw immediately drops as we reach the bottom of the staircase.

"Wow!" Keith enthuses, walking straight over to Charlotte, wrapping his arms around her and gently kissing her on the lips. "You might just be the most beautiful thing that ever existed." Charlotte simply smirks smugly and links her fingers with his as they head into the kitchen. Not a word is said by Keith to me as I follow the couple to the breakfast table.

Neither Charlotte nor I eat much for breakfast- both because of our nerves and the torture devices we've strapped ourselves into- and by the time the film crew arrive at 8:30am I'm an absolute bag of nerves- and much to my surprise, so is Charlotte.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," she splutters as the doorbell rings and she hastily fans herself with her hands. "itsthemitsthemitsthemitsthem..." I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves as Keith grips Charlotte's hands to try to stop them from shaking. Okay Jamie, I think to myself. Someone's got to answer the door, it may as well be you. Time to- well, not man up, I suppose, but maybe- okay, not grow a pair either, you've spent the last nine months trying to do the exact OPPOSITE of that. Time to- suck it up? It's as good a metaphor as any, I suppose.

"I'll get the door," I coolly announce, borrowing some of Charlotte's trademark swagger as I stride out of the kitchen towards the front door. Unsurprisingly, Charlotte comes barrelling out after me a few seconds later, almost falling over in her suicidal heels.

"I'LL get the door," Charlotte states firmly, regaining her usual composure. I smirk as Charlotte stares at me- her upset face at my perceived 'defiance' of her soon changes into a giggle as she realises what I did- and she gives me a quick squeeze before coolly opening the front door and theatrically welcoming the production crew into our home. As was arranged on Sunday, the cameras are already rolling as Charlotte introduces myself and Keith to the cameras and the production crew. I say 'hi' but that's really just about it- Charlotte enthusiastically babbles about what a great friend I've been to her over the last nine months- fortunately she's rehearsed her speech to death so I know she won't 'slip up' at any point.

The production crew only film about half an hour of footage in the entrance way before the director ushers the three of us into the lounge to outline the day's filming plan. There'll be a bit of just 'background' footage- the three of us watching TV, that sort of thing- a tour of the home and a bit of footage of Charlotte & myself out shopping. The director did say 'if you feel up to it' before that last part- but to be fair, he doesn't know either of us that well yet!

...Though after we arrive back from our shopping trip at 6 O’clock, both Charlotte and I are absolutely exhausted, even though neither of us bought more than a couple of things each. Charlotte's not showing her fatigue- she's still as elegant and regal (despite her hemline) as she was at the start of the day. I, however, have had to re-do my make-up five times in the last three hours to hide my tiredness, and if it wasn't for my damned corset, I'd probably be permanently slumped over. We met up with Kristie and Mary whilst out shopping, and they've come back to Charlotte's house with us for dinner (being thoughtfully prepared by Keith). Needless to say, all cameras are pointed at Charlotte when she swans in her front door to be greeted by Keith's passionate embrace.

"Mmm," Charlotte purrs as Keith holds her in his strong, masculine arms, "something smells AMAZING."

"I'm pretty sure that's you," Keith flirts as his hand strays onto Charlotte's backside. Kristie, Mary and I exchange knowing glances- we all acknowledge that Charlotte's the 'alpha female', but it gets a bit tiring at times, especially when she's been flaunting it all day in front of the camera. I'm thankful, though- the more I'm with the girls, the less flustered I get about tomorrow's reunion...

Fortunately, the camera crew leave after the relatively uneventful meal, as do Kristie and Mary, so whilst Keith does the washing-up- you didn't expect Charlotte to do it, did you?- Charlotte mercifully helps me out of my corset.

"I think I've permanently lost two inches off my waist," I complain as the garment is unlaced and removed from me. I immediately remove my boots, my skirt and my stockings and pull on a cosy dressing gown over my bra and thong before crashing on my bed.

"You should be so lucky," Charlotte jokes as she sits down on my sofa, somehow still energetic despite how long the day's been. "Anyway, it's your big day tomorrow, decided what you're going to wear yet? And please tell me it won't be trousers."

"Of course not," I say dismissively. "I'm going to go in there as Jamie-Lee. If they don't like it, then tough!"

"Atta girl!" Charlotte says cheerfully. My attitude, however, is all show. Secretly, I'm terrified- I would have much preferred if Charlotte had conveniently forgotten about the reunion until tomorrow morning so I didn't have to face my feelings. It didn't come up at all throughout the day- Kristie and Mary know I'm estranged from my parents but obviously don't know why, and don't know about tomorrow either.

Charlotte leaves me in peace, saying she'll 'let me get some rest' though I suspect she's slightly more concerned about getting herself some Keith. I try to sleep but my rest is fitful, peppered with dreams about how my life used to be back when I was James. In all my dreams about the past since I committed to this change, I was always my old self- that is, male- but tonight when I dream about my past, whether it's my home life or my school life, I'm Jamie-Lee. And in a way, it's like I've always been Jamie-Lee. Even if they reject me, tomorrow is just a formality- I know who my real family is.

None of that helps at all the following morning when Charlotte wakes me up at 8am. My hands are like ice and my whole body is shaking in a combination of nerves and mortal terror. Charlotte immediately plays the BFF role I've got so used to over the past few months, bringing me up a calming cup of herbal tea and leading me into my bathroom to do my make-up. We've agreed on a 'subdued feminine' look for today- clear nail polish (for about the first time in six weeks) and just enough make-up to define my features without starting to overwhelm them. The only jewellery I'm wearing are a pair of gold studs, a plain gold necklace and my favourite bracelet. Instead of my usual satin bra & thong combo, I opt for a comfortable black cotton bodysuit and a thick pair of flesh-coloured tights. I pull on a red turtle necked sweater and a plain back knee-length skirt, finishing off with a pair of 2" heeled booties. On any other day, I'd be aghast at looking so... ordinary, and Charlotte would likely threaten to disown me, but today, I can't go throwing myself in my parents' faces. I need to be Jamie-Lee the demure daughter, not Jamie-Lee the sex kitten. After one last trip to the toilet, I pull on my coat, grab my everyday handbag and head out with Charlotte to where Ellen is parked and waiting for us.

"You look great," my ballet tutor reassures me as I buckle myself into the front seat of her car. "I know I for one would be proud to have you as a daughter."

"Anybody would," Charlotte concurs.

"thanks," I whisper hoarsely as Ellen pulls the car out of the driveway. We're meeting at Dr. Phillips's office- 'neutral territory'- and Dr. Phillips will speak with my parents before introducing me as, well, me. It's a long, quiet journey into central London- even Charlotte is sensitive enough to put the brakes on her usual motor mouth.

My first attack of nerves comes when I step out of Ellen's car and immediately see my parents' car in front of me.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," I babble, inadvertently sounding like Charlotte did yesterday, "they're already here..." Charlotte, ever the BFF, immediately grabs my head (how she does this without gouging my flesh on her nails I'll never know) and looks me in the eye.

"LISTEN!" She shouts in a firm but friendly voice. "You are a beautiful, successful young woman. You're rich, you're loved, and you have the most amazing life ahead of you. As we've said all the way here, any sane parents would give everything to have a daughter like you. So STOP PANICKING!"

"O-okay," I say, taking several deep breaths and ringing Dr. Phillips's doorbell.

"Come on in, Jamie," Dr. Phillips says over the intercom, as Charlotte and Ellen lead me, shaking, up the stairs to the reception outside her office. Five minutes pass that feel like five days, as I hear Dr. Phillips's and my parents' muffled voices behind the door. I strain my ear to try to listen to what they're saying, but I can't even tell the tone of the voices, let alone the words.

I'm almost nauseous with terror as Dr. Phillips appears at the door and escorts me into the office where my mother and father are standing, staring wide-eyed at my form. I smile nervously and wave.

"Hi mum," I quiver in my feminine voice, cringing at how high-pitched it is. "Hi dad."

"What the FUCK IS THIS!?" Dad yells angrily, quivering himself, though undoubtedly through rage rather than fear.

"Mr Travis, we've been through this-" Dr. Phillips says calmly.

"Is this some kind of sick joke!?" Dad continues as I feel the world crumbling around me. Everything begins to fade as I feel faint, Dad's angry rants in my face melting into gibberish. If it wasn't for Charlotte quickly appearing by my side, I'd have immediately slumped to the floor. By the time I regain my composure and the tears have been cleared from my eyes, my parents are gone and I'm sat, knees pressed together and hands clasped in my lap in one of Dr. Phillips's comfortable chairs.

"Jamie," Dr. Phillips says softly, before I cut her off.

"James," I correct her, trying but failing to adopt a masculine voice. "No- Jamie," I say, readopting my feminine voice. "No- I- I don't know who I am any more..." I break down again as Charlotte holds me.

"Jamie," Charlotte says firmly. "Listen to me. Over the last eight months-"

"I've just been playing a game," I say, babbling barely coherently.

"NO!" Charlotte states strongly. "I couldn't have got through this year without you. You've been the perfect friend and the perfect girl. Don't let this change anything."

"Charlotte's right," Dr. Phillips states. "Every time you've been in my office you've told me just how positive you've been about your new life. You yourself stated that your parents haven't had any impact in your life in the last four years. You can't let this change all of the growth you've made."

"It's all a lie," I babble as Charlotte grips my shoulder tighter, worried I might be about to reveal the 'true' nature of our first meeting.

"I know why you might think that," Dr. Phillips says. "But I've seen all you've achieved, all the friends you've made. THEY'RE all real. Your job is real. The relationships you've told me about? All real." I start to calm down a little. Charlotte- for all her arrogance- has always been there for me just as I've always been there for her. Kristie, Mary, all the actors and actresses I met up in Scotland, all the models I've worked with, Joshua... Keith...

"I- I want to go home," I say hoarsely, my nervous energy completely spent.

"Call me after Christmas," Dr. Phillips requests as I'm led back to Ellen's car.

Once I arrive back home I strip out of all my clothes and dive under the shower, letting the hot water wash away all my make-up until I'm just left with my own, bare skin. I step out into my room, still naked, and stare at myself in my full-length mirror. From the waist up, there was no way you'd mistake me for anything other than totally female. Even if I tie my hair back I have a feminine-looking face. It almost makes the presence of my male genitals look like a mistake, an anomaly. Even if I try standing like a man- slouchy, casually, whatever- I can't pull it off. A hand will always wander back to one of my widening hips or I'll start pouting or some other feminine mannerism that now comes automatically to me.

It's ironic that when I first set off down the path to become Jamie-Lee I'd never even thought of becoming a woman. For the first few weeks I'd have to consciously remind myself (or have Charlotte remind me) of the way I should be acting and not to let any masculinity accidentally creep in. And yet now, not only do I have to make a conscious effort to be masculine, I'm no good at it when I try.

And yet, I AM a man. I have male genitals- for now- I have an X chromosome and a Y chromosome, and for nineteen and a half years of my life, I lived as a man. Everyone I knew for that time knew me as a man, accepted me- for the most part- as a man, and if today has proven anything, it's that my family see me as a man, always have, and always will. Jamie-Lee IS a fiction, someone I want to be rather than someone who I truly am. But I've successfully lived this fiction for nine months now and lived it a hell of a lot more successfully than I had my 'real' life. In a way, Jamie-Lee is a hell of a lot more 'real' than James ever will be.

I could go back to being James, I could stop the hormones and remove the implants and settle back into my old life. I could give up my femininity... but that's the whole point. I'd be giving it up. I'd be making a sacrifice I don't want to make, shouldn't have to make. A father who thinks nothing of verbally abusing his daughter isn't worth the sacrifice.

"Hey, Jay," Charlotte knocks gently on my door. I sigh softly.

"Come in," I say softly, not bothering to cover up my body.

"I was just- woah," Charlotte says, averting her eyes from my naked body. "So, we're being exhibitionist today, are we?"

"I don't know what I see when I look in the mirror," I confess, reaching into my drawer and picking out a fresh vagina panty.

"Other than a young twenty year old blonde stunner with an amazing body?" Charlotte says, trying to cheer me up by complimenting me.

"And a hideous growth between her legs," I mumble quietly.

"HER legs?" Charlotte teases. "So all this 'my name is James' stuff is...?"

"An overreaction," I confess, slipping the vagina panty on and securing it in place. "I've thought of, you know, 'backing out' dozens of times before now, but every time I've known that it wasn't worth giving up what I have to be a boy again. Heh, even when I was James I didn't know what I saw when I looked in the mirror most of the time. Look at me." Charlotte slowly turns and looks at me, now the vagina panty is 'completing' my appearance.

"You'd never be able to tell," Charlotte says with a smile on her face. "And the, you know, are 'they' comfortable?"

"Still a little tender," I confess, gently cupping my breasts. "But a hell of a lot more comfortable than having glue smeared all over them every day."

"Are they more comfortable than nothing at all?" Charlotte probes.

"I guess not," I say, prompting a slightly disappointed frown from Charlotte. "But they are definitely better than nothing at all!" Charlotte grins and fidgets a little.

"I would go over and give you a hug if you weren't, you know," Charlotte says cheekily."

"Point taken," I say, blushing a little. "Which drawer has my boxer shorts and t-shirts in again?" Charlotte shoots a laughing snarl in my direction and hurls a pillow at me, which I deflect with a laugh.

"Are you still coming to the party?" Charlotte asks. Clearly she's worried about me to ask rather than assume/demand- I must've been a real mess in that office. In truth, the party was the last thing on my mind right now.

"I'll think about it," I confess as I pull on a clean, black bra & thong set. "Truth be told I'm not really in the mood for-" My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my bedroom door suddenly opening.

"Hey Jamie," Keith announces, wandering uninvited into my room, "have you seen Char- whoa!" Keith suddenly throws a hand over his eyes and turns his head from the sight of my underwear-clad body as I quickly hide behind my wardrobe door. Charlotte, for her part, simply sighs and laughs.

"Jesus Christ, Keith!" I half-seriously admonish, "Do you want to try knocking, maybe?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Keith says, keeping a hand up to shield me from his view. "Charlie, you said you wanted me to remind you when the caterers arrived?"

"Right," Charlotte says calmly. "Tell them I'll be right down." Keith simply nods and scurries out of the room, leaving me and Charlotte to collapse in a fit of giggles.

"Do you think he'll ever master the art of knocking?" I ask as I pick a clean pair of translucent black tights out of my hosiery drawer.

"I wouldn't hold out too much hope," Charlotte chuckles as she follows the beautiful young man out of my room. "Anyway, let me know if you do come to the party. I really recommend you do- you never know who you might meet..." Charlotte winks as she leaves the room.

I pull on a silky camisole, a tight grey top and a butt-hugging miniskirt, opting out of the velvet leotard and hotpants I was planning to wear as I find myself less comfortable than ever wearing trousers or shorts- even shorts that are only 4 inches long and skin-tight against my hips.

I spend the afternoon in my room, mostly browsing Facebook and looking at all the photos of all the parties Charlotte and I have attended over the course of the year and being reminded of just how amazing my life is. Charlotte's right when she says she'll always be my family- the last eight months of my life have been so much fun, I can't let what happened today get in the way of it. It's a cliché to say 'today is the first day of the rest of my life' but it's truer now that it ever has been.

Smiling a devilish grin, I strip out of my day clothes and into my costume. After fixing my hair and make-up- adding some sixties-style curls to the end of my normally straight hair- I struggle into the authentic sixties long-line bra and panty girdle, praying I won't have to spend too much time in either garment. I roll a pair of tan-coloured stockings up my legs, clipping them to the girdle's garters, and pull on the white blouse, followed by the blue pencil skirt & blazer. Slipping my feet into the patent leather stiletto heels, I give my look one last check before pulling on my white gloves and blue stewardess's hat. I grab my bag and sexily sashay downstairs to where my 'crewmates' are already waiting.

"You took your time, Laura," Charlotte- or, should I say, 'Margaret' (complete with dark wig) chastises me. I simply pout in response.

“Are we ready?” I ask with a sultry smile on my face.

“It's show time,” 'Margaret' confirms. The four of us sexily stride into our main room where we're greeted with awestruck stares and wolf whistles from the (mostly male) partygoers. Naturally, Keith- dressed as an airline captain- makes a beeline for Charlotte and plants a long, lingering kiss on her scarlet lips.

The party goes as you'd expect. Lots of drinking, lots of dancing, lots of flirting. I find myself asked dozens of times 'do you have a boyfriend?' by the hot guys at the party, but even though I strongly hint that I'm available, I'm always on my own ten minutes later. That is, until Charlotte drags over a guy in a Beatles-inspired costume and practically shoves me into his arms.

“This is Paul,” she half-drunkenly yells in my ear. “I know you two will hit it off!” Almost as quickly as she'd made her dramatic entrance, Charlotte is gone again, leaving me in the arms of this unexpected hunk.

“You must be Jamie,” he sexily says into my ear.

“And you must be Mr McCartney,” I tease back as we start dancing together. “You know the Beatles have never actually appeared in the show, right?”

“It's set in the sixties, they'll show up sooner or later,” 'Paul' teases back. We dance for a few minutes before I complain about my feet hurting, so I claim a sofa at the side of the large room for myself whilst 'Paul' brings me a drink. He confidently parks himself next to me, hands me my drink and leans in to whisper in my ear.

“I know about your little secret,” he whispers as my eyes bulge wide in panic and at anger towards Charlotte's loose tongue.

“How did-” I ask, flustered and almost hyperventilating. Paul just puts a finger on my crimson lips and shushes me before continuing.

“I said,” he continued with a wide grin, “I know about your little secret- your 'hideous growth between your legs', and I'm cool with it.” My eyes widen further at the possibilities of this revelation.

“And,” 'Paul' continues, “if you're cool being with a guy who knows about you, then I guess I can be a cool guy being with you.”

Less than three minutes later, the two of us crash through the door of my bedroom, our lips locked in a tight embrace. 'Paul's hands wander all over my body, up my blouse, under my skirt, caressing every square inch of my body that he can find. In return, I have my small, gloved hand pressed hard into his crotch, loving the feeling of his arousal increasing between my fingers. It doesn't take long for me to reach into his fly and release his penis from its fabric confinement. I slowly, expertly massage it to its fullest length as 'Paul' groans in my mouth.

Obviously, I don't want him to come all over the front of my skirt, so I dominantly push him down so that he's sat on the side of my bed, and slowly lower my stockinged knees to the floor in front of him. I stick out my tongue and slowly lick the head of his beautiful penis clean, savouring the taste of every drop of moisture before taking the head in my lips and slowly sucking the entire length into my mouth.

It's been three long, long months since I had a penis in my mouth, and I'm almost disappointed when 'Paul' yells with ecstasy, spasming and shooting load after load of semen down my throat. I suckle at his flaccid, spent penis a few seconds longer before allowing it to withdraw from my mouth, smiling wickedly at the red blotches my lipstick has left on it.

'Paul', for his part, is covered in sweat and breathing heavily. I carefully replace his stained penis before sliding next to him on my big, double bed.

“You're going to tell me now that you have a girlfriend, right?” I joke as I stare into his unfocussed eyes.

“I do now,” 'Paul' whispers, giving me a long, lingering kiss. “Charlotte gave me your number, maybe I could call you tomorrow?”

“You'd better,” I grin as the two of us return to the party- me stopping off to repair my make-up first, of course!

I spend the rest of the night dancing and chatting with Paul- which, it turns out, actually is his name- before collapsing into bed at 1:30am. I can't sleep, though- even though I know he won't call immediately, I'm giddy with anticipation about Paul's call, and about having a boyfriend who knows exactly who- and what- I am.

I wake up at 8am having slept fitfully. After my normal morning ritual (shower, straightening my hair after last night, make-up, vagina panty), I open a small drawer in one of the cupboards in my bathroom and stare into it at my collection of butt plugs and dildos. I'd mentioned 'using' them, back when I was dating Michael, as a way of getting used to receiving anal sex. I know it sounds overly kinky, but I just want to be a normal girl with as normal a sex life as possible, and much as I love giving blowjobs, I want to know what it's like to have a man make love to me. And, once I'd got past the initial embarrassment and tension at pushing something up my backside, I found the whole experience of using a butt plug or a dildo highly erotic, even orgasmic at times. As I said though, I couldn't offer anal sex to Michael without having to answer several very awkward questions. But those questions have already been answered with Paul- and the answer is 'it's cool', so really, why not?

I wince a little as I push one of my larger stainless steel butt plugs into place. I'd forgotten how much it hurt at first- it's been so long since I last used one. once it's in place, though, the familiar erotic feelings come flooding back as it wiggles around inside me with every step I take. I briefly consider 'wearing' it down to breakfast but wisely think better of it- one, because wearing butt plugs for a prolonged period of time really isn't a clever idea, and two, we're heading straight out after breakfast this morning to see Charlotte's father, and she's bound to sense something's up if I fidget the whole way there.

Sighing as I ease the plug out of my anus, I pick out my underwear for the day- rather obviously, I opt for a black satin thong 'downstairs' and my most comfortable satin bra 'upstairs', still smarting a little from my exploits with the long line bra last night. I put on my make-up- no more than normal, although admittedly, that is a lot. I leave my nails colour-free but I do put a shiny coat of clear nail polish on them.

As I sterilise the plug, my mind is drawn back to my parents. Within twelve hours yesterday I went from denying my femininity to hooking up with some guy I barely knew. Images of my father's angry, ranting face flash before my eyes, along with Paul's handsome, smiling face. The tingling sensation in my anus and the warm glow the floods throughout my body whenever I think of last night tells me that I made the right choice. I quickly trip back into my bedroom and grab my phone- despite the fact I never dialled it, I have my parent's number in my phone's memory, and a part of me is desperate to dial the number just to rub in the face of that bigoted bastard precisely what his daughter did last night, and who she did it with, but I know deep down it won't do any good. Sighing, I toss my phone on my bed and continue getting dressed.

I roll a pair of thick black tights up my legs and pick out today's outfit, a simple clingy white top and a dark grey pinafore dress. I opt for ballet flats instead of heels- going into a prison, I don't really want to give me inmates there any wrong ideas.

To my immense surprise, when I enter the kitchen, Charlotte's sat at the table, absolutely dead quiet. Her outfit is even more subdued than mine- a knee-length black A-line skirt, a tight white sweater and translucent tights. I can't see her feet, but I can guess from her posture she's wearing flats too. She has even less make-up on than I do, though she does still have her trademark extra-long red nails in place, of course.

"Hey," I say quietly, sitting down opposite Charlotte as Keith silently hands me my cereal.

"Hey Jay," Charlotte whispers back, her attitude as subdued as her look.

"Are you ready?" I ask quietly. No sense in asking if she's nervous or scared- after yesterday, I know exactly how she's feeling.

"I think so," Charlotte says, clasping hands with Keith as he sits down next to her. I still can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he looks into her eyes, despite my new found romance...

The car ride over there was deathly quiet. The camera crew were already present when we arrived and quickly whisked Charlotte away, whilst Keith and I were left to our own devices in the visitors centre reception.

Ten minutes passed in silence as I read one of the fashion magazines, all too aware of the presence of the man I love just a couple of feet to my left.

"So," Keith says, snapping me out of my trance.

"Huh?" I ask, trying not to involuntarily grin at his cute, lop-sided smile.

"You okay?" Keith asks, noting my distraction.

"Yeah," I say nervously, "fine, why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little... distant, that's all." Keith says worriedly. "Is everything okay between you and Charlotte?"

"Fine," I repeat, confused by Keith's concern. "I..." I desperately roll around in my brain, thinking of another tale to tell Keith. 'I'm struggling to find work'? Nah, he knows who represents me AND how busy I am. 'I'm having boy trouble'? When am I NOT? Immediately, I know I have to tell Keith the truth.

"Yesterday morning..." I begin, "Charlotte and I, we... weren't at the salon. We... went to meet my parents."

"Oh my god," Keith breathes, understanding exactly the significance of this. "Were- were they- how did you- what happened?" I take a deep breath and try to maintain my composure.

"Picture an asteroid hitting the Titanic," I say sarcastically. "Total disaster. They took one look at-" pick your words carefully, Jamie.. "my career choice and just stormed out."

"Even though you're earning full-time wages on part-time hours AND going to college?" Keith asks incredulously.

"Yep," I confess. "Apparently I'm not 'professional' enough for them. Never mind the fact that I'm only twenty and THEY never did anything to encourage me whilst I was at school."

"Well," Keith says, "their loss is our gain. Mine especially- I never had a little sister before!" My heart sinks as I hear Keith refer to me as his 'little sister', when I yearn to be so, so much more than that. "Here I was thinking you were having boy troubles again..." I snort with laughter and resume reading my magazine.

"Nah," I say with a smile. "For once things there are looking pretty good!"

"I thought I saw you slipping away for a bit with Paul Gould last night," Keith says with a beautiful smile of his own.

"Is that his surname, Gould?" I ask, immediately realising just what it was I asked.

"Umm..." Keith asks, slightly shocked by the implications of my ignorance, "that didn't come up at any point?"

"Well," I say, trying desperately to avoid any further embarrassment, "it sorta, kinda, didn't come up. I do know he's a magazine editor though." Keith just continues to stare at me uneasily. "What?"

"He's a photographer," Keith says, now more concerned than shocked. "What- what exactly were you doing last night?" A broad grin seeps across my face as my embarrassment transfers itself wholly onto my 'big brother'.

"I surely don't need to spell it out, do I?" I state coyly as I immerse myself in my magazine.

"So much for 'little sister'..." Keith whispers as he slumps back in his chair in shock.

The rest of the morning passes in silence- Keith tries a couple of times to instigate a conversation but never gets past a couple of questions. I think I intimidate him now, the poor dear. The camera crew follow Charlotte as she confidently strolls out of the meeting room, her usual smile plastered all over her face. Great, I self-pityingly think to myself, even THAT goes well for her...

After the camera crew do a quick interview with Charlotte they hand her back to us and we eagerly relax into our taxi home.

"So," I begin, "it went well, I take it?" To my surprise, Charlotte's smile immediately fades as she squeezes Keith's hand tightly.

"I- I didn't know what to say to him," Charlotte confesses quietly. "I had all these questions running around my head, all the things I wanted to throw in his face, then I went in there, he saw me, he smiled, and he was just- you know- dad. I wanted to hate him for what he did, I really, really wanted to, but I just couldn't."

"Are you going to see him again?" I ask softly.

"No," Charlotte firmly states. "If I see him again I'll just choke up again. And, like a very, very clever girl once said, he's a part of my past. All I care about is my future." I grin widely as Charlotte paraphrases what I'd said earlier. If I wasn't in the front seat of the car I'd reach over to Charlotte and give her the biggest hug any BFF had ever given. I turn my head as Keith embraces Charlotte and reach into my bag for my phone. Switching it back on, I'm thrilled to see a text message from Paul waiting for me.

"R U free tonite?" The text bluntly asks. Rather than immediately jump into his arms and onto his- well, you know- I decide to play it a little coy.

"What did U have in mind?" I text back, pausing briefly before pushing 'send'. The sound of the message being sent immediately piques Charlotte's interest.

"Who are you texting?" Charlotte asks, as blunt as the text I'm replying to.

"Paul," I say with a wide grin, which only gets wider as I see Keith deliberately avoid eye contact with me.

"Ooh," Charlotte teases, "has our Jamie FINALLY got a boyfriend she's going to hang on to?"

"That is kinda the plan," I tease back, fiddling with my phone in the vain hope it'll make Paul text back faster. "He wants to know if I'm free tonight."

"You are now," Charlotte says commandingly. "Driver, take us to Huntingdon Street."

"Oh what?" Keith complains. "You're going to drag me to your salon for hours on end when I've got stuff to prepare for tomorrow?"

"We'll get the driver to take you home once he's dropped us off," Charlotte states firmly. "Jamie's got a date tonight, THAT's the important thing." Keith simply sighs quietly.

"Fine," he concedes as I and Charlotte giggle with excitement.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, we find ourselves ushered into the VIP area of our favourite beauty salon (an advantage of Charlotte's fame is that when she makes calls, people listen) and are treated like princesses for the next two hours. After a cleansing body wash and facial, my make-up is reapplied by the salon's best artist. Burgundy lipstick complements my thick eyeliner and mascara, whilst my light glittery eye shadow doesn't threaten to dominate my face. My eyebrows are reshaped and plucked to perfection, and my hair is treated with the finest products the salon has. My finger and toe nails are redone in the same burgundy colour as my lips and I have a light layer of tan applied over my whole body. I emerge from the beauty parlour feeling like I can have my pick of any boy on the planet, but knowing deep down there's one who'll always be out of reach. However, the discovery of another text from Paul brings me back into a positive mind-set again.

"Free for dinner?" The text reads. A broad smile spreads across my perfectly made-up lips as I text back in the affirmative.

Once we arrived home Charlotte immediately drags me up to my room and drags every outfit I have out of my wardrobe. After trying on hundreds of dresses, skirts, leotards, tops and even one or two pairs of girly trousers, I settle on a tight, very short black dress with lacy sleeves, sheer black tights (the dress is too short for stockings) and a pair of 5.5" heeled black stilettos. Charlotte and I worked out a while ago that 5.5" was the perfect height to be sexy without being too extreme as to distract from the sexiness. Underneath I have my sexiest tiny black bra and G-string set- Charlotte had wanted me in a corset but fortunately I managed to talk her out of it! I spray on some of my most expensive perfume, put on my best silver earrings and necklace and make sure my look is absolutely perfect before heading out to where my taxi is waiting. Despite the fact that I had over 3 hours to get ready, I still make the taxi wait for over ten minutes before heading out to it!

Unsurprisingly, given my tardiness, Paul is already waiting for me when I arrive at the restaurant.

"Hi," he says with an eager smile, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I smile as his eyes widen as he helps me take off my coat.

"Wow," he breathes as he gets a view of my sexy body in my sexy dress.

"Glad you approve," I say with a wide grin as I sit down. "You look pretty good yourself." Paul smiles a confident grin as he sits back down and the waiter pours our drinks. I sip my wine coyly as Paul continues complimenting me.

The meal lasts just forty minutes, both of us agreeing to skip dessert in favour of a quick exit. I'm trusting that I've read Paul correctly, and that he wants what I want out of tonight, but given that he's quick to cup my backside in his hand as we step into the waiting taxi, I'm confident that he expects tonight to end the way I expect tonight to end.

Sure enough, once we arrive home (and I've checked there are no lights on downstairs- Charlotte and Keith are also out), Paul eagerly takes me up on my offer of some 'coffee'. I do sense some hesitation, though, as we enter the kitchen.

"By 'coffee', you don't actually mean drinking hot brown liquid, do you?" Paul asks nervously as he takes off his coat and shoes.

"Well," I say with a wicked smile, "I thought we could start with that and see where we go from there."

"It's just that, you know, normally people wait until the third date before, you know, 'coffee'," Paul says.

"People also wait for longer than twenty minutes before deep-throating," I retort. "But if it makes you feel any better, just count the party as our first date, the meal as our second and this can be our third right now." This time, it's Paul's turn to smile a devilish grin.

"You know," he says with pure lust in his eyes, "I'm not really that thirsty..."

"Nor am I," I say breathily as my heart begins to race. I grab Paul's hand and lead him upstairs to my bedroom where we both immediately start undressing each other, our lips locked in a passionate embrace. God, he tastes so good... I think to myself as Paul expertly unclasps my bra and strips the tights from my legs, leaving me in just my tiny thong. I pull Paul's briefs down and immediately start massaging his semi-erect penis as we recline down onto my bed, our scents mixing together with the tell-tale smell of pre-sex sweat.

I let out a slight yelp as Paul slowly pushes one of his fingers past my thong into my anus, slowly penetrating me and sending lightning bolts of excitement through my body.

"Don't stop," I beg breathlessly between kisses, "don't stop!" Paul moves his face from mine down to my body and slowly treats my breasts with tiny kisses, gently pulling at my hardened nipples with his lips as he continues working my backside with his expert digits.

I begin to breathe faster as Paul slowly rolls me over onto all fours, not taking any attention away from my backside as he slowly kisses his way down my spine until he reaches the top of my widening hips. I let out a sigh of disappointment as I feel his finger pull out of my anus, but mere seconds later I gasp as I feel a wider, much wider, latex-encased length force its way into my backside.

My thoughts are a blur as Paul's arms encircle me from behind and he penetrates me further and deeper with every thrust. After what feel like a blissful eternity, Paul's penis stiffens inside me and reaches its full length, battering into my prostate and forcing me to take a deep breath as wave after wave of orgasm slams into my body.

I scream so loud as the ecstasy takes hold of me that anyone who may have been listening would have thought I was being murdered, but nothing would be further from the truth.

I soak up every moment of my orgasm whilst it lasts, and I close my eyes in satisfaction (and, if I'm honest, a little disappointment) as Paul withdraws his now-flaccid penis from me and collapses next to me on the bed, our bodies glistening with sweet, fine sweat. We look into each other’s eyes and grin dopily before sharing one final, deep kiss.

"Wow," I gasp as I take several deep breaths, desperately trying to compose myself. Paul, also still breathing heavily, encircles me from behind with his arms again, but this time in a soft, affectionate cuddle. Despite it being before 10pm, both of us are asleep within 15 minutes.

My 'early night' explains how I'm awake at 6:45, Paul's arms still gently encircling me from behind. I slowly turn my body around in his arms to stare through the darkness at his slumbering face, hoping to wake him up to scratch the wonderful, tingling itch in my backside, but he's dead to the world, and as I've got no chance of getting back to sleep, I hop out of bed and quickly shower, change my vagina panty and fix my make-up for the day. I pull on a fresh thong, nightie and dressing gown and head back into my room where Paul still slumbers. My mind briefly drifts back to when I first awoke in this room nine months ago, confused and terrified by my unfamiliar feminine surroundings, and I can't help but wonder what Paul's reaction will be when he wakes up surrounded by the onslaught of girliness I've filled my bedroom with.

Knowing I'm not going to get any reaction out of Paul for a good, long while, I slip my feet into a pair of pink slippers and eagerly skip downstairs to the kitchen. I get the shock of my life when I switch on the light and there, sitting in the darkness with an evil grin on her face, is Charlotte.

"So," my BFF begins, somehow sensing what I'd got up to last night. "How'd the big date go? When are you seeing Paul again?" I briefly consider fibbing, but I've never been able to hide anything from Charlotte, so I figure I may as well by up-front about everything.

"Brilliantly, and in about ten minutes' time," I say with my own evil grin, Charlotte's jaw drops, but I can sense her approval from her facial expression and vocal tone.

"Oh- my- god!" She enthuses. "I had no idea that sweet, innocent Jamie-Lee was so man-hungry!"

"I had no idea you saw me as 'sweet' and 'innocent'," I shoot back, pouring myself a cup of coffee and sliding into the seat next to Charlotte.

"Well," Charlotte says confidently, "I'm pretty sure you've only ever slept alone before, right?"

"Maybe," I say aloofly. "Do all guys sleep so much after sex, though?"

"You mean you don't know?" Charlotte teases, before her expression turns into one of genuine shock. "Oh my god, you really don't know? You never, you know, when you were James?"

"Would you have dated a short, shrimpy unemployed guy?" I ask sadly.

"I guess not," Charlotte confesses with an air of guilt in her voice. "Lucky for you Jamie-Lee is a hot, sexy, successful model!"

"...And lucky for Paul, too!" I say as I pour a second cup of coffee and grab a serving tray to take back up to my room.

"I take it you're hoping coffee will give him more 'energy'?" Charlotte asks, her earlier evil grin returning to her face.

"Maybe," I say, trying to be coy despite my broad grin giving away my intentions.

"I take it you're wearing a nightie under there?" Charlotte asks. "I'm HOPING you're wearing one, anyway..."

"Yes," I answer, confused by her question. "Why, exactly?"

"If you want to catch Paul's 'attention'," Charlotte says with a smirk, "you may want to try something a little more eye-catching. You remember how I didn't get out of bed until 2pm the day after my birthday?"

"Yes," I answer again, before catching on to what Charlotte is implying.

"I've still got the costume," Charlotte beams. "Wait a few minutes, I'll get it for you."

Sure enough, when Paul awakes, fifteen minutes later, the first sound out of his mouth is a groan of pure lust.

"Would you like some coffee now?" I ask in my best 'serving girl' voice as Paul's gaze transfixes onto my body.

I mentioned earlier that Charlotte's birthday party (that she brought up in the kitchen) had a 'playboy bunny' theme. What I didn't mention was that whilst my costume was a black ballet leotard with a tail stuck on my bottom, Charlotte's costume was a custom-made, shiny pink strapless boned satin leotard with a thong bottom so tiny practically all of her buttocks were on view the entire night. That thong is currently firmly lodged between my buttocks, and the 6" neon pink pumps Charlotte wore on the night are attached to my feet, as well as the rosette, collar and ears that make up the classic bunny costume. I've 'adapted' it a little to suit my needs, though- some additional cotton wool in the front of it both cushion my breasts and enhance my cleavage magnificently, and remember those satin gloves I said I'd never have a reason to wear? I currently have a bicep-length pair of pink ones on that I simply can't wait to massage Paul's penis with. With neon pink-themed makeup and a shiny, smooth body, I am every straight man's wet dream right now.

"Coffee would be good," Paul whispers, desperately trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. I dutifully pour him a cup and leave it on my bedside table next to Paul, leaning backwards in a perfect 'bunny dip'. As Paul drinks his coffee, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, making sure Paul gets a good, long look at my bare buttocks as I do so.

"You really are full of surprises," Paul says. "Good ones, obviously, I didn't mean-" I press a gloved finger to his lips, silencing him.

"I know, I know," I say, sliding closer to him and letting him get a good smell of my expensive perfume.

"Are you not having anything to drink?" Paul asks. I grin, desperately trying to stay in character.

"Maybe later," I reply in my best 'sex kitten' voice. "I'm not allowed to drink whilst I'm 'on duty'." Paul grins widely- he's obviously enjoying the role-play.

"Have you been working here long?" Paul asks, adopting a very fake-sounding American accent.

"This is my first day," I reply, also adopting a (better) American accent.

"Well I'm glad I was served by the most beautiful girl in the room," Paul retorts as we both try not to giggle.

"I'm the ONLY girl in the room," I teasingly scold in my normal voice.

"You're the most beautiful girl in ANY room," Paul reassures me as he finishes his coffee and pulls me closer for a slow, passionate kiss. "Especially when you're wearing what I assume is the most uncomfortable thing in the world."

"Glad you appreciate the trouble I went to," I say with a blush before readopting my fake American accent. "Now, what's a girl gotta do to get a tip around here?"

"Oh," Paul says, also readopting his 'American' accent, "I think you already know." I grin widely before pouting at Paul as he slides his legs out of bed. As I pull the covers back, I'm unsurprised to see his penis is already fully erect and glistening with sexy sweat. I take gentle hold of it in my satin-encased hands and feel it immediately start to throb as Paul's head rolls back and he starts breathing deeply. I sink to my knees mere seconds later as I feel it start to pulse uncontrollably.

Paul yells as he orgasms yet again. I'm too slow to lean in for his first spurt, causing the jet of sticky semen to hit me just below my left eye, but I quickly wrap my neon pink lips around his penis and drink down the rest of his orgasm as Paul collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

"Maybe I will have a drink," I giggle as I grab a tissue from my drawer to wipe my face clean.

"I really wish I had my camera with me right now," Paul mutters out loud.

"Why, to photograph me with your spunk all over my face?" I ask teasingly as I head to the bathroom to flush the tissue.

"Nah, just proof I have such an amazing girlfriend!" Paul replies, causing me to grin widely. "You know, the longer we stay up here, the more your housemates are going to gossip about what we're doing..."

"Good!" I say with conviction. "Let them talk. I'm an adult, I do what I want, with whoever I want, when I want." I begin to loosen the corset-style back of my bunny costume and slowly ease my smooth, supple body out of it.

"This, I like the sound of." Paul states as I step out of the bathroom having totally shed my costume, wearing only my vagina panty, my stilettos and a wide, wicked smile. "...AND the sight of." I can't help but notice his eyes are transfixed on the patch of latex covering my crotch.

"Go on, touch it if you want," I say, kneeling on my bed in front of Paul. "It won't bite!" I giggle as he slowly runs a finger over the labia part of the prosthetic.

"It's actually really life-like," Paul says with a laugh. I grin and grab his hands, placing them over my breasts. Paul gently caresses them as I lean back with a wide, contented smile on my face.

"Oh yes," Paul whispers as he leans in closer and begins peppering my chest with kisses, paying special attention to my rock-hard, erect nipples. I begin to breathe faster as our bodies entwine once again, and within minutes, I've slipped a fresh condom over Paul's penis and he is back inside my backside, rhythmically rocking the two of us back and forth until we both reach our climaxes simultaneously, yelling with passion as the moment overtakes us.

Ten minutes later, we lay across each other in bed, desperately trying to get our breath back.

"So here we are," Paul starts, "lying in bed having had sex twice in the last twelve hours, and I can't help but realise I barely know anything about you beyond you being a model and, well, the other thing."

"What is there to know?" I ask with a smile.

"Your surname for starters!" Paul laughs. "I don't even know how old you are."

"Does it matter?" I ask further.

"Jamie," Paul says seriously, "I'm not just looking for a cheap fuck, I want a girlfriend. Someone I can hang out with and take places and show off to my friends. I thought that was what you wanted too, Charlotte's told me you've had problems with boyfriends before because of your, well, 'thing'." I close my eyes and lay back in bed, feeling utterly embarrassed. I trying to be the best cock-tease I can, I've forgotten there's more to being a good girlfriend than just having a firm grip on- well, you know.

"Aah," I sigh as I cover my face, "we've gone too fast haven't we?"

"Parts of me would disagree with you," Paul says playfully. "And it's certainly not too late to get things back under control." I grin and look Paul in the eye.

"My surname is Burke," I say, mimicking reading off of a factsheet. "I was born September 19th 1991 in London, I like listening to music, going to concerts, shopping, fashion magazines, clubbing, swimming and playing tennis. I'm learning how to drive and I take private ballet lessons twice a week when I'm not working or going to night school. You?"

"Football, clubbing, music, videogames," Paul confesses. "Gorgeous women." I simply roll my eyes and giggle.

"Typical boy," I say, extending the sound of 'boy' as long as I can.

"Fashion magazines, shopping and you're also a ballet dancer? Typical girl," Paul retorts, emphasising 'girl' just as much as I emphasised 'boy'.

"Thanks!" I reply smugly. Paul simply laughs and checks his phone.

"Ah crap, it's almost ten," he says with a resigned sigh.

"Somewhere you'd rather be?" I say, feigning offense.

"Rather be? No. Have to be? Yes," Paul says sadly. "I, er, kinda promised my parents I'd be at theirs for lunch."

"You can't stay just a little while longer?" I ask as Paul begins to pull his clothes back on.

"Believe me, I wish I could, but it is Christmas Eve," Paul sighs. "Gotta be with my family. You understand, right?" I close my eyes and turn my head a little- of all the times for this subject to come up...

"I- I don't really have any family," I whisper quietly. "Not apart from Charlotte and Keith. And they spend all their time in each other's arms anyway." Paul pauses whilst getting dressed.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't know."

"S'okay," I whisper, cuddling a pillow, not wanting to get out of my warm bed.

"No it isn't," Paul says, picking his phone back up and holding it to his face. "Call home. Hi, dad? Might be a little late getting to you today. Yes, I know, I said I'd be there for lunch. I should be there around mid-afternoon." Paul ends the call as I grin widely.

"You are AWESOME," I enthuse as Paul sits down on the bed and gives me another long, lingering kiss.

"I know," he says with a smug grin on his face. "And you are GORGEOUS."

"I know," I say with a wide grin on my face. "I guess I'm gonna have to get up eventually. Mind waiting while I hit the shower?"

"Go right ahead," Paul says with a smile as I skip my naked body across to my en-suite. As the hot water of the shower hits my body I grin widely at the night/morning's activities and the prospect of yet more to come. Once I've thoroughly cleaned my vagina panty and put on a new one and fixed my make-up for the day- opting for thick, scarlet lipstick and glittery eye shadow- I step out of the bathroom and grin as I see Paul there, drinking in the sight of my naked body. I can almost taste his disappointment as I get dressed, stepping into a satiny black bra & thong set, followed by a pair of sheer black tights. I pick a velvety long-sleeved purple minidress with a cute flared hem from my wardrobe and slip it over my head, finishing off the look with a chic silver bracelet. When I've worn this outfit in the past I've teamed it with 5" black stilettos, but as we're only heading downstairs I slip my feet into a pair of warm Ugg boots and happily head down to the lounge, my fingers linked with Paul's. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm unsurprised to find my BFF standing there, her arms folded across her chest.

"Oh, EVENTUALLY!" She mock-chastises, her eyes gleaming devilishly.

"Have you been waiting there ALL morning?" I mock-chastise back as Paul and I glide past Charlotte into the lounge where Keith is already waiting on his & Charlotte's sofa. I can't help but notice his concerned expression as I cuddle up next to Paul on my sofa.

"Morning," Keith says stoically.

"Morning," Paul says with a grin on his face. "Paul Gould, nice to meet you, bro."

"Keith Hartley," Keith responds as Charlotte snuggles up next to him.

"Oh stop worrying," I say with mock disdain. "I appreciate the whole 'big brother' thing but it's not like I'm fifteen, for Christ's sake."

"You've been going out two days..." Keith feebly complains.

"And when we'd been going out two days, we practically lived in each other's pockets," Charlotte playfully remind her boyfriend. "And we WERE fifteen." At this, Keith shuts up, knowing he's been beaten, and yet I can't help but notice him frequently staring at myself and Paul on the sofa over the course of the morning. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost jealous of Paul...

My sexy new boyfriend leaves after we eat lunch- but not after making the taxi wait for several minutes whilst we have our tongues down each other's throats, of course! He's promised to come back the day after tomorrow, but even that separation is longer than I'd like. Fortunately, I have the whole 'Christmas with the son of a business tycoon and a millionaire supermodel' to distract me, though! As Keith will also be leaving to be with his family later this evening, we exchange our gifts early- as well as the usual gifts of clothes, cosmetics (male grooming products in Keith's case), shopping vouchers and (hopefully for this year only) ridiculously tight unitards, we've all bought each other one large, expensive gift. Keith's thrilled with the PlayStation 3 I bought him for his university dorm, which is good considering the number of hints he'd dropped all autumn!

For Charlotte's gift, I had to be a little more creative- what do you get the girl who literally has everything? Something money simply can't buy.

"...Blank DVDs?" Charlotte asks confusedly as she stares as the bundle in her hand. I simply smile happily, knowing how much the gift will mean to Charlotte.

"Not blank," I explain. "Look at the label on the top one." Still confused, Charlotte complies.

"Majorca '97," Charlotte reads aloud. "That's where we went on holiday that year... Oh my god..." Charlotte sits down, finally realising precisely what my DVD gift represents.

"I know how much you've been watching your old home movies on VHS," I explain, "and how heartbroken you were when you broke one last month. So, I've spent the last few weeks transferring them all onto DVD. Merry Christmas, Charlotte." With tears in her eyes, Charlotte launches herself at me and grabs me in the tightest hug I've ever had from anyone.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Charlotte sobs in my ear. "You are the best, the very best best friend anyone has ever had, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for this!"

"It's a gift, you don't have to repay me!" I say, trying to shift around to make Charlotte's hug a little more comfortable. "And it's nothing compared to what you've done for me over the last nine months." Charlotte tightens her hug yet further and keeps hold for a good 30 seconds more before snuggling back down with Keith on the sofa and urging me on to open my presents.

At both of my best friends' insistence, I open Keith's present first- 3 months of driving lessons. I give Keith a quick hug as thanks- making sure not to hold on too long or too tight, mindful that I have a new boyfriend and his girlfriend is sitting just a few feet away!

Charlotte's gift comes last, but it was worth the wait- my jaw goes slack and I gasp as I read the documents in my hands. 3 hours with one of Spencer & Hall's best camera people, in their studio, to shoot my 2013 calendar, which will be professionally printed AND distributed at Charlotte's expense.

"Well, it's not like I need the competition or anything," Charlotte explains, "but I know how much work you put into it and you ARE my BFF, so... Merry Christmas, Jamie!" I launch myself at Charlotte much like she flung herself at me earlier, giving her an uncomfortably tight hug that Charlotte tries her best to wriggle out of, giggling all the way.

We spend the rest of the evening showing off our presents to each other- not Keith's PlayStation, fortunately- eating, drinking and enjoying each other's company. Keith leaves at around 10:30 to go home to his family, leaving just myself and Charlotte alone in our cosy lounge. Oddly, Charlotte's still perky, even though her lover is nowhere to be seen- whether it's because she knows he'll be back on Boxing Day, or because it's Christmas Day tomorrow, I can't say, but it's certainly uncharacteristic behaviour for her...

We both eventually change into our nighties and collapse into our beds just before midnight, both full of excitement for what the rest of the Christmas weekend will bring, but both wishing that our lovers were right there beside us...

I'm reminded that this year, Christmas falls on a Sunday when Charlotte bursts into my room at 7am, eagerly shaking me awake and not stopping until I swing my bare legs out of my warm bed.

"Merry Christmas Jay!" Charlotte yells, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "Come on, just time to get breakfast and shower before church! And before you say 'do I have to', it's just this one time, just today, pleeeease?" I mock-roll my eyes in response. It IS just the two of us today, and she's done so much for me over the last week...

"Oh, okay, just this once," I reply. Charlotte responds with another tight hug and grabs my hands in hers, dragging me down to the kitchen where we quickly down our breakfast of coffee and croissants.

I head back upstairs and quickly run through my morning routines before changing into my outfit for the morning (chosen especially by Charlotte, of course). I slip on a brand-new lacy black bra and thong set I kind-of got myself for Christmas, followed by a pair of translucent, shimmery black tights. The dress Charlotte picked out is a very formal and close-fitting sleeveless shift in a royal blue colour, with a hem that comes to about 2 inches above my knee. Matching 5" stiletto pumps complete the outfit, whilst I don a pair of very expensive sapphire earrings I received last night from Charlotte (sapphires being my birthstone, of course) and my favourite gold necklace to finish my jewellery. After ensuring that my make-up is immaculate, I pull on my blue winter coat, a pair of matching gloves and head out to join Charlotte in the taxi. Naturally, she's wearing all her finest clothes too- a similar style of dress to mine (only in red instead of blue), kid leather gloves and, of course, 6" stilettos.

The church service goes as expected- lots of hymns, carols and prayers. There was a cute bit where the local children read out lists of what presents they received, which made myself and Charlotte giggle. We ended up leaving immediately after the service ends, which I thought was strange, as Charlotte usually sticks around to talk to the vicar afterwards, but when I question my BFF about this deviation in her routine, all she can do is smile knowingly.

We arrive home at around noon, and I head up to my room, strip off all of my clothes and take a deep breath as I stare at the unitard laid out on my bed. I'd promised Charlotte yesterday that I'd wear it at some point today- might as well get it out of the way now.

Rather than wear a comfortable thong or G-string with the unitard, I'm instead forced to wear a piece of underwear called a c-string. Imagine a hairband, only with one end that's wider than usual. The idea is that the wide end covers your vagina, whilst the thin end runs between your buttocks like a thong, only instead of a thin, unobtrusive piece of fabric, the c-string is like clutching a pencil between your buttocks. It's supposed to completely eliminate panty lines (there are no side straps) but some prices are too high to pay!

I eventually manage to struggle into the unitard, and I do have to admit it highlights my curves magnificently, just as it did with Charlotte, but it is phenomenally uncomfortable, and there's no way I'll wear just this to eat Christmas dinner. I slip a novelty Christmas jumper Keith gave me over my head (I figure this is the one day of the year I can get away with wearing it) and pull on a pleated black mini-skirt to cover up before slipping my feet into a pair of 5" platform ankle boots (I'm not going anywhere, but you do kind-of need to keep up appearances around Charlotte).

When I arrive in the kitchen, Charlotte's already eagerly preparing our Christmas dinner- despite it being just the two of us, she's going the whole hog- turkey, stuffing, the works. She's also changed out of her church dress, but into a shorter, blue velvety dress similar to the one I wore yesterday. She is, of course, still wearing her heels.

"God, Charlotte," I begin in amazement, "how are we meant to eat all this?" Charlotte simply turns around and smiles, gesturing to me to start chopping vegetables, which I dutifully do.

"Sooo," she says cheerfully, changing the topic, "how do you like the bodysuit?" I think of my response carefully, to avoid hurting her feelings.

"Very, very sexy," I say with a wicked grin. "Gonna have to wear it when Paul's here next!" Charlotte giggles and turns back to her cooking.

"You know," Charlotte says with a chuckle, "Keith isn't here, so you don't have to wear THAT jumper..." I smirk- how did I know Charlotte would be forced to comment on it?

"I figure if I wear it today you can say I wore it and not have to lie to him," I retort with a grin. Charlotte chuckles as she places the turkey in the oven and turns to face me.

"I've got a feeling this is going to be the best Christmas ever!" Charlotte says with a smirk. As if on cue, the front doorbell rings. Charlotte doesn't move, instead unsubtly gesturing for me to answer it.

"Don't leave our guests out in the cold, Jay!" Charlotte says as she turns back to her cooking. Rolling my eyes playfully, I skip toward the front door and open it. As I see who's standing on our porch, though, I am overcome by a wave of raw emotion.

"M-Mum? Dad?" I stutter as I look into the faces of the two parents who'd so callously turned their backs on me mere days earlier.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," my father says hesitantly. Mum, seeing I'm on the verge of tears, rushes forward and embraces me in a loving hug that I happily reciprocate.

"Oh my god," I breathe between sobs, "what are you guys doing here?"

"Christmas is a time for family," Charlotte says smugly from the kitchen doorway. It doesn't take me too long to figure out what's happened.

"YOU!" I yell at my BFF. "You had a hand in this, didn't you?"

"I may have," Charlotte says with her trademark smug smile. I immediately giggle and give her a tight, BFF-style hug before ushering my parents in out of the cold. Before too long, we're all in our living room opening the presents my parents brought for me.

"After our meeting earlier in the week your friend wouldn't stop calling us," Dad explains, his demeanour still slightly uneasy around me. "She pointed out- quite correctly- what an arse I'd been, that regardless of, um, lifestyle choice, you were still my- um- child. Regardless of what you choose, you're still my... child. And I'll always love you."

"Thanks, dad," I say uneasily, picking up a small, carefully wrapped box and unwrapping it. I gasp with joy as I see what's inside- a shiny silver necklace with a large sapphire embedded in the pendant.

"I picked that one out," dad says with a smile, carefully picking the chain out of the box and wrapping it around my neck.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, turning to face the man I'd barely seen in four years. We awkwardly move together before hugging for the first ever time as father and daughter.

"Just like its owner," mum chimes in, joining in the group hug. It's at point we all turn to see the giggling form of Charlotte watching us from the kitchen and suddenly my heart sinks. Standing here with my family- on Christmas Day, no less- just reminds me of the parents Charlotte no longer has.

"Come on," I whisper, beckoning Charlotte into the group hug. Charlotte hesitantly shakes her head.

"Nah," she says, still smiling a brave smile, "it's a family thing only."

"Well then as far as I'm concerned," I say with Charlotte's trademark authority, "you're no longer my BFF, you're my sister. Now come here!" Laughing a laugh of pure joy, Charlotte happily skips over and joins in the hug.

Christmas dinner goes better than any Christmas I ever had as James. Charlotte's food was amazing, of course- and I was relieved to find that my parents had included a new dress in amongst my presents so I finally had an excuse to change out of that infernal bodysuit!

A few hours later, we're all sat on the sofa watching Strictly Come Dancing when suddenly, my already perfect Christmas just gets even better.

"Someone's got a surprise caller," Charlotte teases as a knock comes from the door. Surprisingly, it's Charlotte herself who then immediately leaps up and answers the door. My jaw drops moments later when none other than my sexy boyfriend saunters through the door and makes a beeline straight for me.

"Hey, gorgeous!" Paul says with a wide, beaming grin on his face. I stand up and move over to him but pull back slightly as he leans in to kiss me.

"What's up?" Paul asks as I barely contain my laughter.

"Paul Gould," I giggle, "meet my parents!" I gesture toward mum and dad, whose faces are possibly more judgemental of Paul than they'd ever been of myself. I'm just glad I warned dad earlier that I was in a relationship with a man so all of his rage is directed at Paul instead of me!

"Oh, um, hello," Paul stammers, tell-tale nerves quickly spreading across his face. "Mr and Mrs Burke-"

"Travis!" Dad quickly corrects Paul as Charlotte and myself struggle to stifle our laughter.

"Mr and, um, Mrs Travis," Paul continues stammering, "um, merry Christmas?" Much to my surprise and Paul's immense relief, Dad simply smiles an exhausted-looking smile.

"Sit down," Dad says, predictably gesturing to the chair furthest away from where I was just sat.

The rest of the evening goes better than I could ever have dreamed. Mum and dad depart just after ten o'clock- offering Paul a lift about eight times, all of which he of course declined! The two of us end up in bed not long afterwards, locked in a passionate embrace. For the first time ever, I'm looking forward to Boxing Day even more than Christmas!