My Ex is a psyco! No really, she is! I have a piece of paper to prove it and everything.

Nobody would believe me of course. One flutter of those baby blue's and her sweet smile, would melt anybody's heart. Truth be told, mine as well. And she never reeely hurt me... well... that much. And make-up sex was the best!

But eventually I knew something would happen and then everybody would know. In her defence she was having a really bad afternoon (her hormones were definitely spiking that day). But the way she took out those three suicide bombers armed with nothing more than a pair of stilettos, diamante handbag and an iPhone, has become the stuff of legend within the security forces (just don't ask me about the iPhone, ok? you really don't want to know).

Unfortunately, it was then going after the five SAS Commandos who were trailing the bombers which wasn't such a good idea. Though I understand they will be coming out of hospital soon, so that's a good thing.

Of course, I am not the slightest bit surprised, I was married to her for 6 years. Though her using the emotional stress of coping with our divorce as justification for her "outburst" didn't really get any traction.

They recon she probably will never be released from the High Security Wing... of the High Security Psychiatric Hospital... for the Criminally Insane.

But the judge still thought it might be an idea if she threw in with the divorce settlement a 100 mile exclusion order, which I thought was a nice touch (I think she liked me).

It still cost me the house, which is why I am now moving into my new little flat. But I am not complaining as the house was mostly her idea anyway, and what would I do with a 5 bedroom house with a dunge-- sorry, basement. I didn't begrudge it to her, she always seemed so much more relaxed after a session in her "Play-Room".

The day I moved in couldn't have been timed worse. The builders were still here doing final fitting out of the other apartments, so there were vans and builders and decorators everywhere. Plus they were building a new telecoms relay station right across the road. So I had to contend with even more vehicles and plant and workmen!

Going to be great when they switch it on though. I do like my tec-toys and being so close to the relay station I will get the best speed of everything, HD TV, Super high speed internet, 5G phone, the lot. But it's not just an indulgence as I am setting up a new internet business. So fast and stable comms is going to be essential.

Actually, calling this my "little flat" is perhaps being a touch modest. I had a real stroke of luck. The judge from my divorce case had a (cough) "friend" who was just finishing converting an old Manor House into separate apartments and said she would put in a good word for me. Ok, I may only own a part of it, but when it comes to what estate agents like to call "kerb appeal" it doesn't get much better than this.

Had my first night in my new bed, and although I am waking up to a mountain of boxes and mess, it's also the first time since I met the Ex I have been at peace.

As mine is the first door when you come into the foyer from the main entrance, it's become a bit of a routine to take in parcels for other residents. Partly because I am one of the few people here most days, but also because everybody keep disagreeing over the style of font for the door numbers. So every few days all the numbers come off while we wait for the new ones to be fitted. Which does lead to a bit of confusion sometimes.

It's been a few weeks and I am settling in nicely. Especially as they have switched on the new relay station now. Woohoo! And it really is as fast as they had promised. Great! I can get on with my business website at last.

I was heavily engrossed in work when the phone buzzed with a text. [broken text message].... moved into your new place. Will be in touch once you have had a chance to settle in :-*) But no sender number?

Curious? I wonder who sent me that? Only a very few people know about the move and any business communications I get are online.

But then the thought occurred... it couldn't be the Ex... could it? Ugh! how paranoid am I? She is safely under lock and key, and she wouldn't have any idea of my new number or where I am anyway... I am sure...

But... she does have those big baby blues, that sweet sweet smile, and knows how to use them...

Nah, I am just being silly... probably...

I had just stopped for some lunch when the phone rang, it was my solicitor. Having recently got the final bill for his services I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "I wonder how much this call is going to cost me?"

That thought got pushed far from my mind when he said, "I think you should know, your ex wife was released yesterday on a technicality. She had been fitted with an electronic tag and was under constant supervision but somehow she removed the tag and has now disappeared. You may want to take precautions."

Not believing what I was hearing, I had barely put the phone down when the phone buzzed with another text. [broken text message] .... sent a gift for you... [broken text message] .... beautiful new home... [broken text message] .... whole new perspective on life ;-*) Again, no sender number!

She has found me! My anxiety level went off the scale! It must be her, and she has a way to contact me that leaves no trace! Even that the message has broken up, that's just like her too!

I have experienced what she can be like when she is being... uhh, "playful". To say that she was vexed with the divorce, is an understatement that would make the stiffest of British upper lip's quiver! Now she has had time to stew and scheme and plot, I really don't want to even try to imagine what frame of mind she must be in.

I almost had a heart attack when I heard a knock at the door! By the time I had calmed myself down enough to see who it might be, nobody was there. I gingerly opened the door and found a plain brown box sitting on my doorstep. I looked all around but nobody was there. Even the decorators who have been doing the final finishing for the last few days must be having a tea break somewhere.

I stared at the box for ages. Is it from her? What was in it? Should I take a chance and open it? It's got to be a trap! But perhaps the trap was not to open it? I am driving myself nuts trying to second-guess that mad woman!

In the end I just grabbed a knife and tore into the packing tape and opened the damn box. I carefully removed the tissue paper inside to reveal the contents.

What on earth does this mean? Women's shoes? These are just the sort of style that she liked, but why send them to me? I checked the box again for anything that might give me a clue? Nothing!

Wait, what did that text message say? "whole new perspective on life" That was my only clue. Then it struck me. There is no doubt this is from her, this is just the sort of mind game she liked to play. I am fairly confident she wouldn't come straight at me, she would just end up by trapping herself again and this time she would never get out. She may be a certified head-case, but she wasn't stupid.

But anyway, for her it was always more about control and humiliation. She knows how I feel about men dressing up in women's clothing and this is her way of trying to get inside my head.

Nah, I am being ridiculous now. Couldn't be that? Surely?

But the evidence was right there! Women's shoes and the instructions, "whole new perspective on life." That must be what she means? She wants to humiliate me by making me dress up like a woman.

With growing panic I tried to work out what options I have. Ignore it? Well that's not an option. If I didn't play along she would only escalate and I know what she is capable of. There really are worse things than death and she wrote the instruction manual for most of them! (fully illustrated too)

I could run, but where too? She would have already planned for that and would just track me down again. And then I would be in an even worse situation.

Police? They won't be able to stop her, and if she found out, that would just make her up the game even more. So all that would achieve is letting them know who to blame after she had finished with me.

I groaned. What choice do I have?

With a sinking feeling in my stomach I couldn't see any alternative but to go along with it. For now anyway. But at least I could then use the time to carefully plan a way to thoroughly and totally disappear. Make sure she could never find me ever again! Yes! That's what I will do!

Thank goodness for the anonymity of the internet. I went "shopping". I really had no idea there was so much out there for cross-dressers. You could very easily spend a lot of money if you weren't careful. Thankfully I was able to get most of it on a next day delivery. The one thing I could be sure of though.... she would be watching!

The next morning, I waited anxiously for the deliveries to arrive. One of the down sides of ordering online is that you can't actually speak to anyone. I made it clear in the 'Other Instructions' field only to use my initials and use plain packaging. The last thing I wanted was my name emblazoned across the address label and feminine logos all over the boxes!

I heard the Post Office van as it pulled up, I recognised the driver from previous deliveries. We always have a chat. We are both divorced, and like most guys our second favourite topic for discussion is complaining and joking about women. After football that is of course.

As I opened the door he had a puzzled look on his face. He looked at the packages, he looked back at me, then said, "All the door numbers are off again, I think I have the right number, but I can't imagine you ordering all this. Must be for one of your neighbours again. Can I leave them with you?"

Trying to look as relaxed as I could, I noticed that every single package had an overtly feminine label clearly attached. I could feel myself getting flushed with embarrassment. But then as I signed for the packages he noticed, "Umm, aren't they your initials on the labels?"

I cringed and I could feel by the way my skin was burning I must be almost incandescent, "Oh, they are for my sister".

The look on his face told me he didn't believe a word of it.

I hastily closed the door and I could feel myself shaking. "Well, it's begun!"

I looked at the pile of packages, not really believing I had actually bought all this stuff for me. It took a few of beers and a couple of slugs of whisky before I could bring myself to start. Which with hindsight was probably not such a good idea.

I did try to make some effort and had a shave. I stripped down to my briefs and started opening the boxes. As soon as I started to pull everything out I knew I had got it wrong... very wrong! How could I have screwed it up so much? This looks nothing like what I saw on the websites!

I thought I would try and impress her by choosing an outfit similar to one of her favourites. I think I can safely say that this is nothing like what she would wear! I even made sure to allow for being larger than her when I picked the sizes. But I am not going to be able to get into any of this.

I'll send it all back and pick out something I will actually be able to put on. Then I realised she would have someone watching me and they must have seen the packages arrive.

But if she sees me in this getup she will think I am taking the micky... No, it's got to go back!

I had almost finished wrapping it back up again, when my phone buzzed... a text!

My hands were shaking as I picked up the phone...

It was my mate Pete, wanting to know if I fancied a pint later?

With a huge sigh of relief and my heart thumping like a trip hammer I collapsed into the chair. I looked at the clothes I had bought and realised I would have to wear them. The text may not have come from her this time, but I know she is watching. I just can't take the chance.

I struggled and squeezed and kneaded myself into the outfit. Then with shaky hands I attempted to put on some lipstick and eye shadow, then finally came the wig. I had seen my Ex do all this stuff countless times, I never dreamed how difficult it actually is to do. She made it all look so easy.

I was very careful to avoid the mirror. (If I don't actually see myself in this getup, then it's not real) I stumbled around for a while trying to get my footing in these heels. Yup, the booze really wasn't a good idea.

Oh well, it's now or never!

It's fairly quiet around here. But although there may not be that many people who would see me, there is also no way anybody who does catch sight of me will miss me.

I tried to walk normally, but in these boots and tight skirt I felt like I had all the grace and poise of a drunk hippo... with haemorrhoids! I somehow managed to waddle down the lane to the main road that leads to the High Street. As soon as I got to the corner I scuttled back home.

I flopped onto the sofa and was hyperventilating as though I had just ran a 100 metre sprint. At least I hadn't seen anybody I recognised. But I had barely got my breath back when the phone buzzed with a text. [broken text message]... at least try to want to make it work..... [broken text message]... next time I see you :-*)

I stared angrily at the phone! "Wasn't that enough? I spent all that money, humiliated myself in public, what more do you want?" I threw the phone down onto the sofa and went into the kitchen to get a drink.

As I passed the mirror I finally caught sight of myself. It was hard to ignore, I looked like a joke. The truth is that I have been around women all my life but I have no idea what it takes to be one. Perhaps that's what she is trying to prove to me?

There is no point denying it, I need help. Ok, in for a penny, etc. Back onto the trusty old internet I did a local search. Hey, now there is a stroke of luck. Above the tattoo parlour and hairdressers, there is something called an M2F Makeover Salon. Now that's just too much of a coincidence, she must have known it was there and it's all part of her plan.

Confident I am now on the right track, I made an appointment. They could obviously hear the stress in my voice and suggested coming a little before they opened so I could get a feel for the place before they get busy. But in fact all it did was ramp up the nerves!

It's just over a mile away, even in heels I can walk that, and it shows commitment too. (Now that has got to impress her.) But as I got closer to the salon, just knowing my return journey will be in a dress was getting to me, and it seemed as though everybody was looking at me strangely. I know this is a small town, but does everybody knew about my little outing yesterday?

As I climbed the steps to the side of the hairdressers, I could feel myself getting increasingly nervous. But as I walked into the salon I couldn't believe what I saw! I didn't know places like this existed, it was like walking into a different world!

I think they noticed my reaction and the, uhh, "girls" tried hard to put me at ease. Never in a million years would I have ever dreamed of coming into a place like this or talking to people like them. But once I had calmed down and tried to just go along with it, it didn't seem quite so bad.

Considering what they had to work with, I think they actually did a pretty good job. To describe myself as feminine would be a bit of a stretch. Looking in the mirror I can still recognise that it's me but just a bit softer around the edges.

Though in an attempt to tone down my masculine features I think the girls may have gone a bit heavy handed with the makeup, and perhaps this summer dress was a bit of an over reaction to the other outfit too. But at least this will be more appropriate for walking down an English High Street than the getup I had bought.

I stood at the top of the steps looking down the High Street for ages trying to pluck up the courage to get started on the long walk home. But in the end I knew there was no more putting it off and I just took a deep breath and started walking.

I did get some strange looks, but not as much as I had dreaded, and by the time I got back home I felt sure I had got the job done. But I had hardly managed to sit down when the phone buzzed, it was another text. [broken text message]... knew it was you..... [broken text message]... just like a man! :-(

My heart sank. I knew immediately what it was. It was my walk. I phoned the salon, they said they knew just the person and to come in tomorrow.

I got there a bit early to chat to the girls and see if we could sort a better style for me. Then their expert spent hours drilling me on how to hold myself and how to walk. In the end I had to cry "Enough!" everything was just hurting too much! But I also knew I couldn't give up. So with a pair of lower heels and some exercises, we agreed for me to come back in a week.

By now I could barely stand properly let alone walk home, so I got a taxi. As we drove towards The Manor there was water everywhere and the road blocked off. "Must be a water main" the driver said. But the path was still clear so I was obviously going to have to walk the last bit. There were vehicles and workmen everywhere and I was clearly being noticed as I hobbled down the path.

I had almost made it to the front door when my phone buzzed. It was another text. [broken text message]... [broken text message]... :-[

I looked at the screen in disbelief! I yelled at the phone, "Damn it woman! What the hell do you want from me? I am going through agony for you!"

It was then I realised that everyone in the street was looking at me.

As fast as I could, I got inside and shut the door. I managed to drag myself to the sofa, grabbing the whisky bottle on the way. Carefully easing my aching body, I sat down, and taking a couple of hearty glugs from the bottle, I allowed myself to dissolve into the cushions. And within a few minutes I drifted off into the comforting embrace of sleep.

It was a couple of hours later when my slumber was shattered by the phone. It was another text. But as I opened it there was nothing in it! Not even a smiley. Now what did that mean!!

Immediately a panic rose in my chest. What have I got to do? What have I missed, What more does she want from me?

Obviously I still need to work on my walk, but then I remembered what happened when I got home. My voice! With my walk sorted I may just be passable, but as soon as I open my mouth it's a total giveaway. I know she has people watching and they must have heard me. So she definitely got to know about my outburst.

In the morning I phoned the girls and explained about my voice. "No problem, they know just the person." I am so glad I have met them, they are such a help.

It was a lot harder than I expected, but over the next couple of weeks I worked constantly on my voice and my walk, I almost live in my heels now.

One of the things I have to do is hum to help re-train my vocal cords. The funny thing is I find myself humming a tune sometimes just because I like the sound. I am also getting into the habit of popping down to visit the girls for tips and practice. Properly attired of course.

This may sound strange, but for the first time in a very long time I am feeling happy. Not the big beaming smiley kind, but a nice gentle warm feeling inside. I had almost forgotten what brought me to this when the phone rang.

"Hellooo" I said in my best happy girl voice.

But there was silence the other end.

"Helloo?" There was no way I could disguise the rising panic in my voice.

"Hello, is there anybody there... please? Please say something?" Then the line just went 'click'.

Perhaps it's because it was so unexpected, but I went into shock. I slid down the wall, curled into a ball, hugged my knees and just started sobbing.

Having cried myself out, I made my way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Hugging the cup, I kept going over what it was I must have missed. I knew my voice sounded pretty good, my walk is coming on quite well and even my makeup doesn't look like a clown anymore. Surely I have done everything she wanted?

But clearly I hadn't, and I am getting genuinely scared at what she might be planning if I didn't give her the satisfaction she wants.

As I walked back to the lounge I stopped at the long mirror and had a good look at myself. Then I realised what it must be. My shape! All the makeup and deportment practice and voice lessons in the world still doesn't disguise the fact that I have the shape of a man.

I am about 5'9'' and 170lbs. Now for a man that's a bit chunky but not too bad I suppose, but for a woman, not so much. The truth is that every outfit I have is in a plus-size to hide my clearly male proportions. But if I am going to be able to pass as a woman, I had to lose weight, and fast.

I started off by going down the gym, but it soon became obvious that wasn't going to work anywhere near fast enough. I started taking one of the few weight-loss supplements that's supposed to actually work but not kill me with organ failure, and I went on a hardcore diet. I was getting there but it still wasn't shifting fast enough, and I was feeling rather unwell too.

Ok, no point avoiding it, it's got to be liposuction. I can't see any other way. Mostly around the stomach and waist and some re-sculpturing around my bum and thighs.

The results are great! My waist is down to twenty four inches, and the doctor said it would get even slimmer after the swelling goes down completely. Brilliant!

I have to wear a compression garment for a few weeks while I recover and I insisted on a female style to make sure everything gets pulled in properly. After all this, I didn't want to take any chances. The whole procedure was expensive, but it was certainly worth it, there is no way I could have done this by exercise and diet alone.

I haven't been idle while in recovery either. With the help of my solicitor I now have a new drivers licence, bank account and credit card under the name of 'Cindy Lee'. Same initials but my "sister" (clever huh?). I just know the ex will to try and come up with something sneaky to catch me out. Well, hah to that! I am smarter than she gives me credit for. I have that angle covered now too.

Once I had recovered enough to go out again I made sure I was dressed to show off my gorgeous new figure. Someone had better be watching, because I know I look good. The first thing I did was to go and see the girls of course, and I spent most of the afternoon out and about to make sure that whoever was supposed to see me, did.

I suppose I was a little bit too eager to show myself off and these shoes were not a clever choice. I am now exhausted and aching really badly. There was no way I could walk all the way home as every step was painful and I could feel my lovely feminine gait turning back into a male clomp.

I tried hailing a taxi but none of them would stop. I caught the phone number on the side of one of the taxis as it flew past and called it. To be fair, it only took a few minutes for one to get to me, but by now I was feeling thoroughly dejected, exhausted, stiff, and aching everywhere.

As I tried to get into the car, the gorgeous tight dress that showed off my lovely curves was now proving to be a straightjacket. I tried to manoeuvre myself into the car while retaining the last shred of dignity I still had. But ended up, with a decidedly manly grunt, throwing myself into an ungainly heap onto the back seat. With my wig twisted through 90 degrees on my head, I mumbled through the tangle of hair, "The Manor please."

I stumbled through my front door feeling thoroughly miserable about how my first trip out turned into such a disaster, when the phone buzzed...

There was another text. [broken text message]... be so crass?..... [broken text message]... not even trying! >:-[

A knot of fear twisted in my stomach! She must have spies everywhere! They must have seen me trying to get into the taxi.

Feeling so exhausted and in pain, I had reverted to behaving like an oafish man, no real woman would have conducted herself like that! Under the first bit of pressure I just caved. That was the one thing she always complained about. She said I couldn't cope with pressure. Well I guess I have just proved that again to her.

The next day I phoned the girls (they are such a treasure) and explained what happened. They suggested I talked to Dr. Helen Miller. She is a clinical psychologist who works with helping transgendered men 'transition' into being women. Well, I wasn't worried about that, but the important thing is she is also specialises in cognitive behaviour therapy and is a qualified hypnotherapist.

She was very reluctant at first as she kept saying I was trying to take it too fast. But I explained about the difficulties I had been having (everything except the bit about the ex of course) and eventually she agreed to help. It's going to be a lot of money but I am convinced this is going to work.

It's taken almost a month of twice-a-day sessions, but Helen has done an amazing job. I have never felt so good about myself in my life! I can feel it in the way I move and how I talk, and even in how people talk to me. When I catch myself in the mirror it's like I am seeing a different person.

"Thank you, oh thank you so much, Helen." I was gushing like a schoolgirl and gave her a big hug.

Helen smiled warmly, she has become genuinely fond of this new girl standing before her. And feeling rather proud of herself too, the change was truly remarkable. "Cindy, please. It takes a lot of commitment to come this far, this fast. I just helped you on your way, it was you that took the journey. You should be very proud of yourself."

I touched Helen's arm lightly, "Dear Helen, I couldn't have done it without you. You have been absolutely wonderful helping me through this. I truly can't thank you enough."

I gave a feminine flick of my hair. The wigs had become such a chore, so I had the girls give me hair extensions. They are just so much more natural and no more embarrassing worries about it coming off too.

Helen gave me a stern look, (I seem to have become a bit of an airhead recently) "Now we have finished our sessions I am not going to be seeing you so regularly, but I want to make sure that you will still keep taking the pills, and promise me that you'll come and see me every few weeks so we can chat and catch up."

I clasped my hands to my chest in mock horror, "Oh, pluurleease, you must think me such a ditz!" Then with a beaming smile, " Honestly, Helen. You won't get rid of me now." I giggled. "But... I thought the pills were just for the sessions."

Helen gave a little roll of her eyes and shook her head. "No, Cindy. You have got to keep taking those pills. All of my patients have to take the pills."

That didn't make a lot of sense to me. The pills were to help relax me and make the sessions more effective. After all, what else would they be for? With a puzzled look I said, "How long for?"

With a kind smile Helen said, "Tell you what Cindy. Take this note to Dr. Henderson next door and he will sort out some sub-dermal implants that will last you for the next 18 months. That way you won't have to worry about forgetting the pills."

I hugged Helen again, "Oh you are sooo good to me, I love you to bits. Thank you so much for everything."

When I got back to my car I was pleased to notice how I automatically swung my legs gracefully as I got in and sat down. I was thinking it's going to seem strange not seeing Helen so much, we really have become good friends. Then with a quick check in the mirror to make sure I still looked beautiful I made my way home.

As I walked up to my front door I heard my phone buzz in my handbag. It was a text. Probably it was Helen, or the girls, I love how they keep in touch. I will get indoors and put the kettle on and read it then.

I read the text, [broken text message].... so disappointed... [broken text message].... one last chance! |:-[

"What!?" I screamed at the phone. "I've done everything possible! Everyone says I look stunning!"

The screen read like a death sentence. I was furious. I felt outraged! I clasped my hair in my hands and shrieked in anger and frustration!

I have worked so hard, I have done so much! I had done everything. Absolutely everything.

Except for...

Wait a minute? The realisation hit me like a hammer blow! That was the real test. That's what all this has been leading to. How far would I go? That's what she really wanted. She wants to see if I could take the pressure and face the hard decisions. It was what she always complained about when we were married. That's got to be it!

It took me a solid week of searching. I was almost at the point of giving up... but that's what she expected me to do. Then I found a very exclusive (posh way to say expensive) private clinic in Cornwall.

Although it was close enough to drive there, I decided to take the train. That way I could be sure she would know I was really going. It is costing me a fortune! It has wiped out almost all my savings. But it would be worth it to be free of her at last!

I am booked in for the works! Throat shaved, facial reconstruction, breast implants and most importantly of all - vaginoplasty. There is no way she could doubt me now!

Thing is, I am not worried in the slightest! She is getting sloppy. I have actually seen him! I first spotted him a few weeks ago. I thought nothing of it at first but then I kept noticing him. I did a bit of asking around, he is supposed to be a new neighbour. Hah! I don't believe that for a moment. It's just way too much of a coincidence.

Today proved it beyond any doubt! Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of him as I was walking to the station. Then he got on the same train as me and sat where he could keep an eye on me but not be too obvious. The cruncher was when I changed trains and he changed too!

I lost sight of him by the time I finally got off the train, but I expected that. He is obviously working for her, keeping tabs on me. There is just no other logical explanation.

But I have it all worked out now! She thought she could fool me? I had been married to her for 6 years. I know her every move! I can see right through her tricks and deceptions. She thought she was manipulating me, but she always underestimated me, I can see her plan. Now I have the upper hand.

She would let me go through with the doctor's appointment... she would just watch.

I would get booked into the hospital... but she won't make her move.

Probably get to the point of being wheeled into surgery... but still she won't move.

Perhaps even let them put me under anaesthetic!

But I knew what was really happening. She would let me go all the way to the point of no return, and then pull me back from the brink!

That's exactly what she used to do. Push me until I pushed back, prove that I was a man to her. I will wake up and everything would be okay from now on. I would have won!
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It took longer than expected to recover from the surgery, but now that she was home, she felt so relieved that it was finally done. The surgery itself went well but when she woke up things got a little weird for Cindi.

After the SRS had been done, according to the doctor, she had gone crazy. She doesn't remember it now, it's lost in the fog of the anaesthetic. But it seemed that she had caused quite a commotion and actually had to be sedated.

Helen has been an absolute treasure. When she was told what had happened she drove overnight to be there for her. It took quite a few sessions, but eventually Cindi was back to normal. What an angel Helen has been, a true friend. Although she was very cross with Cindi for rushing into surgery, she has stood by her and helped her pull through.

Finally, she was Cindi! All the hard work and money had paid off. She was now a beautiful woman on the outside, the way she has always been on the inside. A long journey had come to an end. And it's thanks to Helen she was finally able to realise her dream.

It's so good to be home. But as she looks around, it doesn't actually feel particularly homely? Why hadn't she noticed that before? But that's easily remedied by careful application of a girls favourite pastime, shopping! A few nice touches here and there will make so much difference. But for now it will just be good to sleep in her own bed again.
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It is a beautiful morning and I have a full day's shopping ahead of me. Starting with popping in to see my BFF's of course. It will be great to see the girls again and catch up with things.

As I opened my door to the foyer I saw a woman sitting on the stairs leading to the flats above.

I didn't recognise her but she seemed nice, "Hi there, can I help you?"

"Oh I feel such a fool" she said. "I left my keys in my other handbag and I am waiting for my friend to bring over the spare she keeps for me. Oh, I am sorry, I really should introduce myself. I'm Mandi (she said with a lovely smile) I live in the flat right above yours. Isn't it terrible, in all the time I have lived here I don't think we have actually spoken?"

"I'm Cindi. It's nice to actually meet you at last" I replied.

As she leant forward to stand up, "Ooh, nice shoes! Where did you get them?"

"Oh, these?" I said, twirling on my toe to show them off. "They are nice aren't they? They are my fave's. They were a gift." (I think... it's hard to remember.)

Mandi looked closer, "I used to have a pair just like them. I had them repaired and the shop said they delivered them back. But I never saw them again."

Knowing how much I love my shoes, I know how sad I would be to loose them. "Aww, that's such a shame."

Mandi looked sad, "Yes it is, they were my fave's too. I had only just moved in, it was about the time they kept changing the door numbers? There were so many mixed up deliveries then, I am sure you remember?"

I put my hand to my chest, "Yes, I remember it well, I always seemed to be running around giving everybody their deliveries. But I'm sure everybody got their parcels in the end."

Mandi smiled, "I'm sure you are right, I think they just lost them and didn't want to own up."

Then from her bag her phone ring. "Oops, that's my friend with the key. Lovely to meet you Cindi. Hey, would you like to get together for tea sometime?"

"I'd love to Mandi! I work from home, just give me a knock whenever you are around."

"Yes, I will! Toodles." We 'air kissed' and Mandi dashed off the meet her friend.

I was thinking to myself, Mandi seemed soooo nice. We have only just met and I just love her to bits already! We are going to be such great friends.

Then just as I was about to go out the main door, a gorgeous hunk of a guy called out to me.

"Hello? Do you live here? I always thought it was a man who had bought this apartment?"

(I felt like a deer caught in headlights!)

"No, just me, I moved in while they were still finishing off the build."

(His eyes seemed to gaze into my soul.)

"Oh, ok, I must have been mistaken. So you were here when they were having all the problems with the phone mast then?

(Desperately, I struggled to keep myself composed!)

"Sorry, I am not sure I know what you mean?"

(He seems oblivious to what he is doing to me!)

"They didn't have the antenna set up quite right and the signal was straying off frequency just enough to interfere with other people's phones. Text messages were a particular problem. It was really embarrassing as I was breaking up with my girlfriend at the time and everyone else was getting snatches of her texts."

(My mind was in a turmoil!...)

(I couldn't believe what I was hearing!...)

(Closing my eyes for a moment I tried to calm the maelstrom of thoughts running through my head...)

"Soooo.... you haven't got a girlfriend at the moment then? Would you like to come in for a coffee?"

(The way he smiled I knew I had scored!)

As I fussed around making our coffee, my phone buzzed, it was another text.

[Been trying to contact you for weeks. They have found your Ex in a Crofters Cottage on the Isle of Skye. No electricity, not even a phone. Said other people were the problem, and now happy living alone tending sheep. So you can rest easy.]

Well, that obviously wasn't meant for me. People really should be more careful when they punch in the numbers on their phone. I didn't want any more interruptions so I put the phone on mute and slipped it back into my bag.

Turning my attentions back to my scrummy neighbour, "So, how do you like your coffee?"

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear.....

What?? Surely you should know that a real lady never tells. ;-)