“Ow- owwwww…” I moan to myself as I wake up in my bed to discover that either my sheets had uncomfortably wrapped themselves around my torso as I slept, or I’d gone to bed last night with a boa constrictor (and not the ‘preferable’ kind). As I whip back my bed covers, I discover that neither of my assumptions was true - I am, in fact, wearing a corset that’s been laced down to about 4 nanometres and are pushing my breasts almost into my chin. However, I can’t help but smile at this revelation - especially when a glance at my phone reveals that today’s date is the 18th of December 2018.

Why the date is significant, of course, is because it means that yesterday was the 17th of December 2018, which means it was exactly 22 years to the day since the birth of one Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. Last night was spent at Charlotte’s house, dressed in elaborate regency-inspired costumes complete with wide hoops, bustles and, of course, extra-tight corsets. None of which I haven’t worn before, of course, but it felt particularly special yesterday, firstly because I was celebrating the birthday of my very best friend, and secondly because it was the first time I had worn such a costume as an (externally, at least) anatomically correct woman.

After untying and removing my corset (in that order, so as not to damage it, as I’ve been reminded countless times by my BFF) I reach into my nightstand to retrieve the small leather pouch that contains the bane of my existence - and, sadly, the key to me remaining an externally anatomically correct woman. I take a deep breath as I retrieve the thick orange rod from the pouch and smear the end with lubricating jelly.

"I'm every woman," I mumble to myself as I point the lubricated end of the stent toward my still-new vagina. "It's all IN ME..."

Once the stent is in place, I lay back and take several deep breaths to calm myself (another reason I was so eager to remove the corset) before grabbing my phone and scrolling through some of the photos from last night. However, for obvious reasons, I find it hard to concentrate on Facebook, as every time I read a comment, I keep expecting it to say something other than 'love the dress' or 'love the hair'.

Ever since I first pulled on a skirt, I’ve known that my need to live my life as Jacinta would rub some people the wrong way. There are plenty of morons online who feel that a man who wears a skirt is still a man; that a man who takes oestrogen is still a man with different blood chemistry; and there are even those who feel that a man who has SRS is still a man with mutilated genitals. And as hard as I try, I can’t help but let some of these comments get to me, and I’ve been drawn into several ill-advised ‘battles’ on social media about the topic as well. I get plenty of support in these battles, of course, sometimes even from close friends like Ophelia or Katie, neither of whom have any problem viewing me as just as female as they are.

Of course, as my counsellor repeatedly reminds me, the opinions of an online troll are worth less than nothing when it comes to how I live my life. The opinions of my best friends don’t even matter either - the only opinions that matter are my own. I AM a woman. I didn’t need a vagina for that to be the case, or even oestrogen, or even any women’s clothing. I’ve always been a woman, deep down inside. But I really, really wanted a vagina. I’ve earned it, and I’m going to make damn sure I keep it in healthy condition.

After I’ve finished going through the photos of everyone in their costumes, I scroll back to some older photos, especially those taken during my recent trip to America. As much fun as I had on that trip, it was very much a working holiday, and even this close to Christmas I have a lot of work to do selecting and editing photos for the magazine. Fortunately, as it is this close to Christmas, we’re allowed to work from home, and after the timer on my phone bleeps to inform me that dilating time is over, I head to the bathroom to try to shower away my hangover.

“O? You in the shower?” I shout, before grimacing as I remember that despite the fact that we’re best friends - sisters, even - and despite the fact that she spent a good chunk of last night practically glued to me, Ophelia and I no longer live together and haven’t done so for months. Ophelia lives with the other person she spent the rest (and by far most) of last night glued to (especially once they’d gone home) and would probably spend all of today glued to if it wasn’t a Tuesday - she had work and he had university. I let out a smile as I pass by the ‘wall of fame’ in the hall outside my bedroom, which contains hundreds of photos of friends and family, including (in pride of place) Ophelia and Telemachus’s wedding photograph. As lonely as I sometimes feel, I can’t help but be happy that my BFF has found someone so perfectly compatible with her.

My feeling of loneliness soon returns, though, when I realise that the woman who ACTUALLY lives with me isn’t replying to my query either. Normally this would be because it’s the day after a party, and she’s in an alcohol-induced coma, but today I know it’s because she’s sleeping somewhere else today - specifically, in the bed of the boyfriend she’s been dating for the last 6 weeks. Of course, I can no more begrudge them their happiness than I can Ophelia’s and Telemachus’s, even if Katie is dating a 6’ 2” swimwear model who she literally gets paid to photograph.

After showering, I head through to the kitchen where I make breakfast and continue looking through Facebook photos of last night. I hesitate before turning on the radio - knowing my luck, the first song I’ll probably hear is ‘Living On My Own’ by Freddie Mercury - but I eventually bite the bullet and switch it on, rolling my eyes as ‘Do they Know It’s Christmas?’ is played at me for about the ten thousandth time this month. Still, it does act as a reminder that as lonely as I feel right now, there are plenty of others who have it much worse than me.

Facebook, Christmas music and editing photos takes up all of my morning, to the extent that I don’t even bother getting dressed until after lunchtime - which proves to be a timely decision as minutes later my flatmate lets herself back in.

“Evening,” I say, earning a loud sigh from my flatmate as she drops her bag on the coffee table and herself on the sofa.

“Morning,” Katie retorts.

“It’s 12:21, I beg to differ,” I say, earning a tired snort from my freckled friend.

“…It was still morning when I left Charlie’s house, I’m still counting it,” Katie shrugs, before giggling and turning on the television. “Ahh… Kinda - well, you know…”

“Hard to tear yourself away from Charlie’s warm, umm, flat?” I ask.

“Especially with how cold it is outside,” Katie sighs. “Ugh, take me back to California…”

“Can’t argue with that,” I giggle. “Speaking of, you working today?”

“Yep,” Katie says with another sigh. “And I’m in the studio tomorrow and Thursday. Thank god JB closes the office over Christmas, heh.”

“…And speaking of THAT,” I say. “You spending it with your folks?”

“And my brothers,” Katie says with a mock disgusted snort. “Gonna be out the flat from the 23rd to the 27th. You going back to Brighton to be with your dad?”

“Ehh… Not quite,” I reply with a grimace. "Dad's coming to London, so we'll be having Christmas dinner with Sarah and her mum instead." While I can hardly begrudge dad for wanting a new relationship - god knows I’d be a hypocrite if I did - it still makes me feel uneasy, especially when I remember how close dad was to mum even after she passed away. Though as mum herself would undoubtedly remind me, that was over 15 years ago...

“Ah,” Katie says with a smug grin on her face, instantly twigging what I’m talking about. “The other brand-new relationship…”

“Don’t- don’t call it a relationship, please!” I protest. “They have a combined age of 100. Literally 100, they were both born in 1968.”

“So I think it’s cute,” Katie shrugs. “You want your dad to be happy, right?” Needless to say, this strikes a nerve, both because of mum and my own relationship status.

“Change topic, please,” I say firmly, making my friend grimace and bite her lip.

“O-kay…” Katie says cautiously. “Finished gift shopping yet?”

“Not that we didn’t hand over loads of presents yesterday?” I retort, making my friend giggle. “Almost. Got a couple of things I still need to get. Has Nikki already sent the presents to Team America?”

“Yeah, she sent them last week,” Katie replies. “Cost a fortune just to send, heh! But we do have lots of new friends over there too.”

“Very true,” I giggle. “I’m really looking forward to showing Jenna around London at next year’s AngelCon!”

“She WAS cool,” Katie giggles as we think of our newest friend, the transgendered PA to the Californiangels who might just end up earning 'Angel' status herself if Nikki's to be believed. “You in the office at all this week, then?”

“Tomorrow morning,” I reply as we head through to the living room. “Just to upload some files and run it by our editor. And it’s our office Christmas meal tomorrow evening as well, so I won’t be home until - well, earlier than you were today, but still late.”

“Hilarious,” Katie retorts. “So you won’t - gah, keep forgetting we don’t get dressed up as 6-year olds on Wednesday morning anymore.”

“What - the lesson?” I ask as I remember the regular midweek ballet lessons that Krystie Fullerton hosted for the Angels and their close friends, which eventually included myself and Ophelia. Naturally, back then I was more than excited by the prospect of spending a morning wrapped in a pair of pink tights and a black leotard!

“Yeah,” Katie says with a sad sigh. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t get to hang out with the Angels, like, ALL the time, but you know? It was a bit of fun, broke up the week…”

“I think Zoe still does a lesson on Sunday morning?” I say.

“Yeah - three problems with that,” Katie replies. “One, those lessons are mostly for girls who either work or have worked for the airline; two, they don’t break up the week as they’re on a Sunday; and three, do you REALLY think I’m gonna get up that early on a Sunday morning?”

“…Fair enough,” I say, before giggling. “Ahh… I could use a few lessons though, kinda lost some, you know, ‘flexibility’ over the last few months, heh.”

“If at any point you say anything about stretching your legs behind your head, I’m moving out,” Katie says, making us both giggle.

“Heh,” I chuckle. “We going anywhere tonight, then? Any parties, I mean? This close to Christmas, you’d have thought there might be something…”

“Yeah…” Katie said. “Might go to the pub later, but we both have work tomorrow morning. Heh, not like uni where we spend all day at the union bar and all night, well, in the same bar!”

“Heh, yep!” I sigh. “Ah well. Probably partied out after yesterday anyway, heh!”

“Well, make sure you’ve got enough energy for Viks’s party on Friday!” Katie advises. “Very considerate of all our friends to have birthdays around the same time as Christmas.”

“Pretty sure that’s their parents’ fault, but never mind,” I giggle as I sink back into my chair and try to focus on the TV screen, and try not to think about the fact that my flatmate will be spending this evening with her boyfriend, my best friend will be spending the evening with her husband, and I’ll be spending the evening with my work and, if I’m really lucky, my Netflix account. The prospect of spending another Christmas alone is NOT one I'm looking forward to one bit...

When I wake up the following morning, I let out a sigh as I immediately realise that I am once again alone in bed, alone in the flat, and have my least favourite task to perform before I can start the day.

As I lay on my bed dilating, I try to relax and take stock of my life lately - though given how long I've been single and how many mornings I've had to spend dilating, my life's had more stocktakes than an off-licence in Brixton. It’s been months since I last shared my big, queen-sized bed, and in these cold winter months, it feels emptier than ever.

However cold it is outside, though, I still have a job to go to; so after I finish dilating, I take a quick shower, eat a quick breakfast and dress for the day in a very clingy lilac turtleneck, a cute knee-length A-line skirt and my thickest pair of black tights. However, even this isn’t enough to keep out the cold as I leave the flat, and I let out a tired, frustrated sigh as I head to the nearby tube station.

A few minutes later, I stride into the familiar (and mercifully warm) surroundings of X-1 magazine’s main office, making my way straight to my desk where I set up my laptop and my camera.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri - my editor - says with a giggle as she sits down next to me. “Thanks for coming in today and braving the cold!”

“Ugh, and the dark mornings!” I reply. “SO can’t wait for summer, heh.”

“Ugh, I feel you,” Terri says. “Even though it’ll be a dark evening, are you still up for tonight?”

“Oh, absolutely!” I giggle. “Never had, you know, a proper work Christmas do before.”

“Take it from someone with experience,” Terri giggles. “They’re not as fun as student union parties! Though we’ll try to make it enjoyable before we ‘break up’, heh. You got much planned over Christmas?”

“Umm, probably just spending it with my dad,” I reply. “No ‘special someone’ right now…”

“Aww,” Terri sighs sadly. “Well, you never know, maybe tonight…”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t cross my fingers,” I retort, before showing Terri the hundreds of photos on my laptop screen. “Any of these jumping out at you?”

“I, um, I like that one of Charlotte Hutchinson and Christina Da Silva,” Terri says, visibly uncomfortable with me suddenly changing the topic. “Anyways, Alex is writing the article, I’ll let you sort it out with him. And Jacinta?”

“Yes…?” I reply.

“Try and have a good Christmas, okay?” Terri asks with a smile, which I mirror.

“I will,” I say, before sighing as I turn back to my work. And as if on cue, the song ‘Lonely this Christmas’ by Mud plays on the office radio, making me sigh.

It’s not even like it’s going to be that hard to have a good Christmas - neither Ophelia nor Telemachus are close to their family, so they’ll be spending it with me and dad, and if dad spends some of the time with Beverly, it’s a good bet that Sarah and Nikki will be around as well, so there’ll be several full houses over the Christmas period. Full of three couples and yours truly…

“Alright?” Alex asks with a broad grin as he sits down next to me.

“Hi, yeah!” I reply with a forced smile. “Here are the photos from the AngelCon afterparty, pick any ones you like!”

“Ah, so wish I'd been there myself!” Alex giggles as he looks over the images on my screen. “What are you doing over Christmas, then?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?” I ask, before biting my lip as a guilty look spreads over my colleague's face.

“Umm, ‘cause it’s six days away…” Alex replies. “Jacinta, are - are you okay?”

“Ah - yeah, sorry…” I grimace. “It’s just - ugh, I dunno. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, sorry.”

“S’okay,” Alex shrugs. “Christmas isn’t a great time for everyone, I get it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Not me though,” Alex continues. “I absolutely bloody love Christmas. Me and Josh are gonna binge watch a load of films tomorrow - you know, Home Alone 2, The Polar Express, Santa Clause 1, you’re welcome to join us if you want?”

“Ehh… No thanks,” I reply. “…Though I do love the Polar Express, heh. Dad took me to see it when it first came out in the cinema.”

“Well, offer’s still on the table if you change your mind,” Alex says. “Though I suppose you’ll probably be spending all your Christmas with these girls, heh!” I grin as Alex gestures to my laptop screen, specifically the many images of Angels.

“Well - I’ll see them, I suppose,” I say. “Viks’s birthday is this Friday, then there’ll be the gift exchange on Christmas Eve, but that’s about it, really.”

“That’s still a lot cooler than anything I’ll be doing!” Alex chuckles. “Are there usually lots of people at the gift exchange?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty packed,” I reply. “Mainly ‘cause it’s literally for EVERYONE, not just the Angels, but other Heavenly Talent employees, friends of friends, their kids and so forth.”

“Sounds awesome,” Alex gushes. “It must be great to have so many friends, not just ‘cause they’re famous.”

“Yeah…” I say with a happy sigh as I realise that just because I don't have a lover, it doesn't necessarily mean I'll be completely lonely this Christmas - not with how many friends I have. That won't stop me from feeling lonely when I wake up alone on the 25th, though...

“Well - maybe one of these days,” Alex says with a grin. “If someone could maybe persuade Josh Benedict to buy the mag?”

“I think you’re kinda overestimating me there,” I chuckle as Josh (as in, the magazine’s other staff writer) sits down opposite us.

“Did I hear someone say my name?” Josh asks with a smug grin.

“Only if you’re 6’ 4”, black and the multimillionaire owner of a talent agency,” Alex replies, earning a pout from our colleague.

“I wasn’t the last time I checked,” Josh retorts as I frown in confusion.

“How do you know Josh Benedict is 6’ 4”?” I ask, before a wave of realisation washes over me.

“I interviewed him for the mag last year,” Alex replies as I nod - I now remember reading the interview in a back copy of the magazine I bought this summer before my interview.

“Yeah, I remember now,” I say. “That must’ve been an exclusive, then, because he does NOT give out interviews willy-nilly.”

“The BBC Breakfast show is making a big deal of the interview he’s giving this Saturday,” Josh concurs. “I know I’ll definitely be watching that!”

“Not if it wakes me up at, like, 6am on a Saturday morning you’re not!” Alex protests (Alex and Josh are flatmates in addition to being colleagues).

“My flatmate won’t even be up in time to watch it, I can guarantee that,” I chuckle. “And she works for him!”

“Now that must be a cool job,” Josh enthuses. One I didn’t get, I think to myself. Thanks for reminding me of that…

“Meh, this one’s not so bad, though!” I giggle.

“Speaking of ‘work’,” Alex teases his flatmate, “do you actually have any to do or are you just here to annoy us?”

“I’m waiting for Jacinta!” Josh replies indignantly. “Need those photos she took last week at that premiere in Leicester Square."

“Glad to see neither of you two would be able to do ANYTHING without me,” I say with a smug grin as my friends sigh and shake their heads. “Sit tight, Josh, I’ll be with you in a bit.” I smile as the curly-haired young man heads back to his desk, while Alex and I return to picking out photos for his article.

The rest of the day goes like this, with me supplying images to the magazine's writers, fielding questions about Christmas, getting excited about tonight's meal and trying not to feel like the most single person who ever lived.

Despite her own (allegedly) busy working day, Katie is already back from work when I return home, sprawled on the sofa watching TV.

“Hey,” Katie mumbles, not looking up as I drop my bag on the coffee table and kick off my shoes.

“Hi,” I reply. “Good day at work?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Katie replies. “Hardly anyone in the office today, always that way before Christmas though.”

“Was Nikki not in today, then?” I ask, referring to my fellow transwoman and Katie’s usual ‘lunch date’ whenever she’s in the Heavenly Talent office.

“Nah, she was in Manchester with Charlotte for a TV thing,” Katie replies. “All of the other Angels are spending time with their family, which includes both JBs; Out of Heaven are all doing the same, especially after the Strictly final last Saturday… I was actually kinda lonely at work today, heh.”

“What, even despite the 6’ 2” underwear model who’s also signed to Heavenly Talent?” I tease, making my flatmate sigh and roll her eyes.

“He was on a shoot today somewhere else,” Katie replies. “Won’t be back until late so I’m sleeping here tonight. By myself.”

“Aw, diddums,” I reply with an eye roll of my own.

“So I’ve got used to some late night ‘cake’,” Katie retorts. “Sue me. Besides, haven’t you got a night out tonight?”

“Yeah, a work Christmas party isn’t exactly the same thing,” I say. “Still, should be fun.”

“I’d kinda like to meet your colleagues some time,” Katie muses. “They sound like a cool bunch.”

“Meh, maybe in the new year,” I say. “If you’re angling to be my plus one for the meal, think again.”

“Too tired today anyway,” Katie replies as she stretches. “And Lauren’s coming round in a bit too, Michael has to work late at the cinema so we’re keeping each other company.”

“Well - give her my love if I don’t see her,” I say, before heading through to my bedroom to get ready for the meal.

Even though it’s a meal with work colleagues, it’s still an opportunity to get dressed up that I don’t intend to waste. I pull on one of my fanciest dresses, a long-sleeved dark burgundy dress with delicate lace trim at the cuffs, the hem and the low-enough-to-show-some-cleavage-but-not-too-low-so-as-to-be-indecent décolletage. Despite the cold, I swap my thick black tights for a lighter pair, and the sensible flats I wore to work for a pair of 2.5" peep-toe pumps. A thicker cloud of perfume, more expensive make-up and my best jewellery later, and I look and feel like a million dollars.

"How can any guy NOT want this?" I ask the reflection in the mirror, before sighing and shaking my head. "Never mind, don't answer that."

After a short taxi ride, I arrive at the restaurant that’s been booked for our Christmas meal. It’s not the most upmarket place in the world - a little bit better than a Wetherspoons - but it is at least clean, and has been elaborately decorated for the festive period. It doesn’t take long to find our group’s table, where many of my colleagues are already sat - some of them, naturally, with their partners.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri says as I approach the table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Umm, sure, a glass of white, please!” I reply as I sit down, before smiling politely at the unfamiliar faces at the table. “I- I’m Jacinta, by the way, I’m the magazine’s photographer.”

“I’m Jake, Terri’s fiancé,” the handsome young man sat next to our editor says as he shakes my hand.

“I’m Justin, and I’m Lizzie’s boyfriend,” another handsome man says as our bubbly deputy editor gives him a gentle cuddle.

“I’m Phil, and I’m Ciara’s other half,” the other unfamiliar young man at the table says, before getting an elbow in his ribs from our webmaster.

“He’s my flatmate,” Ciara explains as Phil lets out a smug laugh. “And single, shocking as that might seem.” Oh really? I think to myself as I pay closer attention to Phil. He’s not the tallest man in the world - maybe 2 inches shorter than me in stocking feet - but seems fit, is good looking, has great hair, obviously has a good sense of humour…

“Well, it- it’s nice to meet you all,” I say with a smile, while stealthily trying to make flirty eyes with Phil. “I’m here by myself today, heh. Also single, flatmate’s busy tonight and it’d kinda cost a bit to bring my dad up from Brighton at short notice.” Okay, that was smooth, I think to myself as I try not to grimace. “Umm… Where are Josh and Alex?”

“Running late,” Lizzie replies. “As usual. They’ve texted us their order though, so we’re just waiting on you.”

“And hurry up, ‘cause I’m starving,” Phil says, making me involuntarily giggle even as Ciara gives him another elbow in his ribs.

“We can’t start until Josh and Alex get here anyway,” Ciara says. “And Tom and Caitlin.” Thought someone else was missing, I self-pityingly think to myself as my two old schoolfriends enter the restaurant and head toward our table.

“Hey guys,” Tom says with a grin as he and his partner sit down, mercifully at the other end of the table to where I'm sat. “You all know Caitlin, right?”

“Yep,” Jake, Justin and even Phil reply with polite nods. Way to make me feel like the outsider, I think to myself.

“Caitlin and Jacinta, of course, go way back!” Tom says, making my entire body tense up.

“Oh - really?” Lizzie asks with a friendly grin.

“We- we were at primary school together,” I reply. “In Brighton.”

“Of course, ‘Jacinta’ was a lot different back then,” Caitlin says with an obvious sneer. Nope, I think to myself, ‘outsider’ was much better than this.

“And that’s all that needs to be said about THAT,” Terri says as she returns with my wine, which I take a (probably too eager) swig of. “Are you guys ready to order?” More wine, I think to myself as I desperately try to avoid Caitlin’s gaze.

“Umm, yeah,” Tom says, clearly as uncomfortable as I am. "We'll have the Christmas spread for two, please."

“I- I’ll have the same,” I mumble. "For one! The, um, the Christmas plate for one."

“Okay,” Terri says as she summons the waiter over and places our order.

“So, Jacinta,” Lizzie asks, thankfully distracting me from the other end of the table. “First work Christmas do?”

“Umm, yeah,” I reply. “I’ve had a few other jobs in the past, but part-time, not, like, a ‘career’…”

“Well, we’ll try to take it easy on you,” Lizzie giggles. “Though we may want to hear a few more tales of your trip to America, hehe!” I can’t help but smirk as this attracts the attention of many at the table - Caitlin included.

“Have you been to America recently?” Phil asks, and despite myself I feel my smile widen.

“Yeah,” I say, playfully leaning forward as I speak so that just a little bit more cleavage is on show. “Spent just over a week over there last month, in New York and LA, covering the launch of the two Angels groups over there.”

“Ah, cool,” Phil says. “Isn’t the Angels the group with, umm…” I wonder what he could possibly be about to say next, I think to myself as I sit back in my chair.

“Careful,” Ciara hisses to her flatmate, who responds with a look of derision.

“I was going to say ‘the one with that girl who won Strictly a few years ago’,” Phil says. “Not ‘you know what’.” And I most definitely do know what ‘you know what’ means as I start to fidget uncomfortably in my seat. Needless to say, an uncomfortable silence quickly falls over the table.

“…Yeah, Hannah is in the Angels and she was on Strictly,” I mumble, before letting out a sigh. “Okay, quick show of hands, who DOESN’T know the ‘thing’ about me?” I sigh and nod as everyone at the table keeps their hands down. “Then okay, no need to puss-“ Choose a different word, Jacinta, I think to myself. “No need to tiptoe around it, honestly. Though as we’re going to be eating in a bit, you might want to choose your questions carefully.” Much to my relief, this earns a giggle from everyone at the table.

“You must get fed up of, you know, ‘explaining yourself’ everywhere you go, though?” Justin asks.

“Oh - you have NO idea, really,” I sigh. “I just - I just want to be accepted for who I REALLY am, you know? And I definitely fell on my feet when I started working for X-1.”

“Glad to hear it!” Terri says with a deservedly proud grin.

“So, umm, what do you do for a living, Phil?” I ask.

“I’m a pimp.” Phil replies, making my eyes go wide before I see yet another look of derision in Ciara’s face.

“He’s a nurse,” Our webmaster says.

“…Yeah, I’m a nurse,” Phil says with a smirk. “I actually work at the same hospital as Stephanie Abbott’s mum, do you know her at all?”

“…Who, Stephanie or her mum?” I ask, grimacing as the ditziness of my question.

“Umm, Stephanie,” Phil says. “Unless you moonlight as a nurse as well?” Despite myself, I can’t help but giggle girlishly at his joke.

“Yeah, I know Steph,” I say.

“We’ve been trying to get her in for an interview for ages,” Terri says.

“And believe me, I’ve been trying to pull strings,” I say. “We’ll still have to go through either Josh or Jon Benedict even if I do twist Steph’s arm.”

“Huh, thought you were going to say something other than ‘arm’ there,” Phil says, causing an awkward silence to fall over the table. Or at least, an awkward silence WOULD have fallen over the table, if I hadn’t giggled like an idiot again. What is wrong with me today…?

“Anyway,” Tom says. “Want me to, um, text Josh and Alex, see where they are?”

“Nah, I got a message from them a couple of minutes ago, they’ll, um, they’ll be here soon,” Terri says. “Anyone want another drink?”

“Please,” I say, holding out my hastily emptied wine glass.

“Might be an idea to get a few bottles for the table,” Lizzie says as she casts an uncharacteristically angry glance in Phil’s direction.

The rest of the night goes the exact same way, with me fielding yet more questions as we ate (and I drank), and me desperately trying to decide whether or not Phil might be 'Prince Charming' material after all...

“Wake up, it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares, each note of the classic nineties song cutting through my brain like a chainsaw until my tired fumbling manages to switch it off.

I gradually slide my way out of bed, every slight movement causing my hungover head yet more pain, before pulling on my warm, fluffy dressing gown and silently cursing myself for drinking so much last night. As I glance back at my bed, though, I realise that there's a good chance I drank a lot more than I thought.

There, poking out of the bottom of my bed, is a pair of size 11 feet, and on the pillow next to mine is the snoring, drooling head of Philip Mansfield.

“…Ah, fuck,” I moan to myself, before padding back to my bed and trying to shake the young man awake. As the feeling slowly returns to other parts of my body, I’m quickly able to determine that I had an impromptu 'dilating' session last night, and NOT using a plastic rod.

“Urgh,” Phil grunts as I shake him awake. “I - ugh, um - oh, hey babe!” Despite myself, I both roll my eyes and let out a giggle at Phil going from half-dead to full-flirt in three seconds flat.

“Hey,” I say. “We need to get you out of here before my flatmate wakes up.”

“What, not even any coffee?” Phil asks, deliberately not making any effort to get out of bed. “Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t have fun last night?”

“I can barely remember any of last night,” I say. “And I need to - umm, I need to dilate anyway…”

“’Dilate’?” Phil asks, before a smug look comes over his face. “Oh, you mean like what we were doing last ni-“

“Yes, yes, yes!” I say, before yet again giggling at the young man’s joke. “Though THAT doesn’t count until after I’m twelve months post-op.”

“And your current score is…?” Phil asks teasingly.

“Five months,” I reply. “And yes, ‘IT’ isn’t a problem after three months, even if my recovery isn’t going quite as fast as my doctors would like.”

“Well I can always give you more ‘help’ with that,” Phil offers, stretching out in bed and inviting me to join him - an invitation I find myself seriously considering…

“Don’t you have work today?” I ask.

“Rest day,” Phil replies smugly. “And I know you don’t have work today, at least I hope you don’t ‘cause of how much you drank last night!”

“No, but my flatmate DOES have work!” I hiss.

“So let her go out first,” Phil shrugs, making me giggle yet AGAIN. “She knows you were out late last night, right? So, she won’t be expecting you up early.” I pause briefly to contemplate his words - he is, of course, true. But he’s also someone I met less than twelve hours ago…

“I - I will call you, I promise,” I say. “But - but we barely know each other, you know? Can we at least, like, go on a date before shagging again?”

“Suit yourself,” Phil shrugs, before getting out of bed and standing before me stark naked. He's definitely fit, with a muscular chest, a six pack, and obviously a lot Or more than six inches of something else. “Just thought I’d remind you of what you’re passing up.”

“Well - how about I call dibs on it for tonight, then?” I ask with a sultry grin.

“If I can wait that long, sure,” Phil replies with a grin, before striding out of my bedroom, an action that leaves me confused.

“Umm, forgetting something?” I ask. “I don’t think ‘it’s’ going to be happy with you walking home naked in the middle of December.”

“Well, my shirt’s still in your living room, my pants are in your bathroom and we might have to hunt for my trousers,” Phil retorts as memories of last night come flowing back- along with an acute sense of embarrassment.

“…Okay,” I sigh as I lead Phil into the living room, where we quickly retrieve his shirt from the coffee table. I grunt in pain as I nearly trip over something large that had apparently been left on the floor last night, before freezing in terror as I gaze down at the floor, only to discover the thing I nearly tripped over looking back up at me.

“Morning!” Lauren says, her grin widening as my face reddens.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” my BFF says as she rolls over on the sofa to face me and my still-naked 'companion'.

“Hello again, girls!” Phil says with a grin as big as his, well, I'm sure you can guess.

“A- again?” I ask, before grimacing as memories of last night come back to me, of returning home, stripping each other off en route to my bedroom, nearly tripping over Lauren- again… “What - what are you two even doing here, anyway?”

“Katie felt lonely, so asked if we wanted a pre-Christmas sleepover,” Ophelia replies. “We knew you would be back late so we were asleep when you and your… friend arrived home.”

“WERE asleep,” Lauren clarifies.

“What - what time did we get back?” I ask.

“About 12:15,” Lauren replies. “We were in bed early because we were cold, and Katie has work today.”

“Something that could obviously not be said about you,” Ophelia teases, giggling as I hurl a cushion at her before handing another one to Phil to cover himself up.

“Don’t tell me - Snikki are in the bathroom?” I moan.

“No, just us four today,” Lauren replies. “Well, five when Katie wakes up.”

“Good morning,” my flatmate says as she passes us and plops down into her usual chair. “Nice arse by the way.”

“Thanks!” Phil says with genuine pride as he coolly leans against the wall, requiring me to hold his cushion in place.

“Yeah… All three of us are actually taken,” Katie says with a disapproving sneer.

“Also, I’m standing right here,” I interject.

“I think I saw your pants in the bathroom sink,” Katie says. “What the hell they were doing in there is anyone’s guess, but I’d really appreciate it if you could, you know, go and put them on.”

“Quickly, please,” Lauren says.

“…Your loss,” Phil says as he walks into the bathroom, leaving me holding the cushion and feeling about three inches tall.

“…Whatever you do, do NOT throw that at me,” Katie says. “I’m serious. Think we’re going to need to burn that cushion cover as well.”

“And possibly your Christmas tree as well,” Lauren says, pointing to the top of the tree, where our traditional angel has received an unusual extra decoration in the form of my bra.

“How did THAT even get up there?” Katie asks, before grimacing. “Actually - no, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I- I’m sorry you girls had to see that,” I mumble.

“Not as sorry as we are, believe me,” Lauren says, making me fidget awkwardly.

“I - um, I’m going to go and, umm, get dressed,” I say, racing back to my bedroom and blinking back tears as my cheeks start to burn.

Once I’m back in the sanctity of my room, I crash back down onto the bed and bury my scarlet-coloured face in my pillow.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I moan, before turning my head and sighing as my bedroom door opens. “If that’s you, Phil, that was NOT a request or an invitation.”

“May I assume that also applies to me?” Ophelia asks, instantly bringing a smile to my face as I sit up.

“Yes, yes it does,” I say, before giggling and hugging my BFF as she sits down next to me. “Ugh, I am SO embarrassed…”

“I would say that you have no need to be embarrassed,” Ophelia says, “but that would be only half-true. No one in the living room or in here will ever criticise you for spending the night with a boy. THAT boy, on the other hand…”

“Oh come on,” I protest. “You’ve known him what, five minutes?”

“Five minutes that he spent stood completely naked in a room filled with unfamiliar women,” Ophelia retorts. “And you have only known him for a few hours longer.”

“Well - yes, technically,” I say. “But from what I’ve seen, he’s cute, he’s got a great sense of humour, and from what I can remember, he’s really good in bed…”

“He also took advantage of a drunk young woman last night,” Ophelia says, making me bite my lip and grimace. Technically, I suppose he did, but if I wanted him to stop, I know I’d have said ‘no’, and I’m sure he’d have stopped. I hope he would have, anyway…

“I knew what I was doing,” I mumble. “Look, O, I really like him, I - I want to, you know, make a go of this.”

“You could do SO much better,” Ophelia assures me.

“I haven’t done so far though, have I?” I moan. “That’s one other thing in Phil’s favour - he has no problems being with a transgendered girl. Even though I’m now post-op you know there’d be millions who wouldn’t-“

“And millions more who would,” Ophelia says in her natural voice, before sighing. “J, you’ve been going on for years about ‘Prince Charming’. Can you honestly say that Phil is your ‘Prince Charming’?”

“Can you honestly say that from those ‘millions more’, I’ll ever find ‘Prince Charming’?” I ask my BFF, who sighs and frowns.

“Yes,” Ophelia says bluntly. “I honestly believe that you will. Because you are a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

“Ugh, like I wasn’t crying enough already,” I grunt as I exchange another hug with my BFF. “I know I’ll probably never love any man as much as I love you.”

“I feel the same way, even about my husband,” Ophelia whispers. “And yes, I recognise the hypocrisy of me advising against dating a man you just met when I married a man four weeks after meeting him. But Telemachus is sweet, loving and caring. Which you know.”

“…Yeah,” I say. Despite my initial reservations, I can’t deny that Telemachus is the perfect husband for Ophelia.

“In fact,” Ophelia says, “the whole reason for the sleepover last night was to discuss your man problems.”

“Uh - what?” I ask as my embarrassment starts to be overtaken by a feeling of offence. “I’m not THAT hard up for a man.”

“I’m sure the Neanderthal in the bathroom would disagree,” Ophelia retorts.

“Well - ugh,” I sigh. “I’d better get back out there, let them know I’m okay…”

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Ophelia says, smirking at my frown of confusion. “And by ‘coast’ I mean ‘bathroom’.” I sigh as Ophelia leaves the room, before gesturing for me to follow her. Never thought I’d ever have to make the walk of shame in my own flat…

“H- hey girls,” I meekly mumble as I return to the lounge and sit down on the sofa where Ophelia had previously slept.

“Hi,” Katie says quietly. “Lover boy just left.”

“Wearing clothes, thank god,” Lauren says.

“Okay,” I shrug, though deep down, I’m disappointed he didn’t at least say goodbye to me. Are the girls right about him?

“Jacinta, really…” Katie says, before sighing. “We need to talk.”

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” I sarcastically ask, making my flatmate roll her eyes.

“You need to - ugh, there’s no delicate way of putting this,” Katie moans.

“Stop shagging anything with a pulse?” I ask. “Stop being such a slut?”

“That’s not a word I’d ever use, and you know it,” Katie scowls. “So you like having sex with guys. Big deal, so do all of us.”

“But I could pick my guys better?” I ask. “I don’t really have as wide a field to choose from as all of you, remember?”

“Yep, every guy wants a fat girl,” Lauren says, making me sigh.

“For the last time, Lauren, you are NOT fat,” I say.

“I’m a bigger size than any of you three,” Lauren retorts. “I guarantee that if the four of us went to a club looking to pick up guys, I’d be the last one to get one.”

“We could have this argument all day,” Katie says, regaining control of the conversation. “And god knows we have. Jacinta… Let us find you a guy, okay?”

“We know you better than you know yourself,” Ophelia says.

“With all due respect,” I say, “where are you going to magic up a guy from?”

“Anyone applying to be represented by Heavenly Talent has to do an audition, which is a photoshoot,” Katie replies. “Who do you think does that photoshoot? Dozens of fit guys passing in front of my camera every week…” Yeah, thanks for reminding me you got the cushy job too, I think to myself.

“One of which she’s already kept for herself,” Lauren teases, making her BFF blush.

“Finders keepers,” Katie says. “but you just say the word, Jacinta, and I’ll have them lined up around the block for you.”

“And because they’ve auditioned for Heavenly Talent, you can be sure they’ll be cool about ‘that thing’ too,” Lauren says.

“Ugh, I don’t - I don’t need charity,” I grumble.

“You didn’t need the pervert who just walked out this flat, but that didn’t stop you,” Lauren retorts.

“I just - I’m just fed up of being alone, you know,” I whine as I flop back in my seat.

“Oh - so what are we, then?” Lauren protests as she points to herself, Katie and Ophelia.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“We ditched boyfriend, fiancé and husband respectively for you,” Katie says. “And we know you’d do the same for us in a heartbeat.”

“Well - of course I would,” I say, before sighing. “But you all have guys to ditch, that’s the point entirely.”

“Jacinta, take it from me,” Katie says with a sigh. “You are far too good, and by good I mean sexy, and funny, and cute, and friendly, and kind, and everything else, well, ‘good’ to waste your time with guys like Phil. Leave it to us, we will get you a Prince Charming. I promise.”

“WE promise,” Ophelia says, giving my hand a supportive squeeze.

“Well - ugh, okay,” I sigh. “Do your worst, I guess.” I smile as my friends all cheer, though deep down, I can’t help but wonder whether or not even they’ll be able to find my ‘Prince Charming’. Simon, Lee and now Phil have all proven to be duds. Maybe there really isn’t anyone out there for me?