This one is pretty rough and ready. I only just finished it this morning and haven’t had a chance to proof-read it yet. Since I wrote most of it on my phone and have a constant battle against the stupid autocorrect, there may be some unusual sentences in there, but hopefully you’ll be able to make out what was intended. Please message me when (rather than if) you find any and I’ll correct as quickly as I can.

This one has quite a lot of sex in it, but I’ve tried to keep it more euphemistic than graphic, so hopefully it’ll more fun than anything. There is also a little violence and jeopardy later on, but in the in the same vein as George of the Jungle (remember that one?), nobody dies in this story, they just get great big booboos.

Anyway, this is sort of Christmassy which was why I wanted to get it out today. Season’s greetings to all and much love.

Oh yes, I’ve been putting some of my stories on Amazon recently. Most of them are still available here, but if you want a Kindle version (and watch this space for when I get the paper version worked out), then my Amazon UK author page is here

and my Amazon US author page is here

It was my boss’s idea from the outset.

I mean it helps when you can blame something like this on someone else – makes you seem less of a kinky pervert yourself – but this time it really was down to him.

He has a real hatred of the nanny state we live in and particularly of the equality laws that are imposed on him as an employer. I think he tried to get round them by ticking as many boxes as he could with his first hire.

Her name’s Mia and she’s Afro-Asian, or whatever the politically correct term is. Drop dead gorgeous with skin the colour and texture of milky coffee, that incredibly luxuriant long black hair you might associate with Asian women and the most exquisite face. Her eyes are the shape of almonds and angled slightly downward towards a slender nose. They have none of the skin folds that might mark them out as Oriental and, combined with her high cheek bones and full lips, make her one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen – which is saying something in a day and age when most beautiful women end up in front of a camera and from there, on public display.

Honestly, she has the looks to make it in Hollywood, so why she hangs around working in a back of beyond establishment like this is beyond me.

Chris’s main reason for employing her apparently is her impressive rack – his words, not mine. It’s not a feature that bothers me overly much, but it does go down well with the customers. It also brings to mind that old joke advert: “Bartender wanted. Must be big in the Bristol area.”

For those of you not from this green and pleasant land, you need to be aware of an English football team named Bristol City, and a penchant among certain strata in British society towards rhyming slang.

Still no? What prominent part of the female anatomy rhymes with city?

It also put her well and truly out of my league.

Not that that stopped me from making Holiday’s Inn my local, despite there being a number of other perfectly respectable pubs nearer to my home.

I would argue that Chris does look after his pumps and generally has a good selection of ales from local micro-breweries, so the beer is always good.

Nor did it stop me from applying for the second bartender job when he advertised it. I thought I had no chance there when I compared myself to all the buxom beauties interviewing for the same job, but it turned out that Chris shot himself in the arse with his first hire. With the ethnic minority box well and truly ticked, he was now under some pressure to satisfy the sexual equality one, should there be any male candidates. So when I was the only applicant with a y chromosome, he didn’t have much choice.

With a regretful sigh at all the eye candy he was being forced to pass up, he offered me the position.

Then promptly set about trying to persuade me to quit.

He started off by giving me all the lousy jobs. Like lugging in the kegs of beer when they were delivered, which I didn't mind since, despite my wiry frame, I'm still pretty strong. Like cleaning out the pumps every week, which is a pretty disgusting job, but I'm as passionate about his beer as Chris, so I make sure I do it properly, and you do get to test the new keg once you've hooked it up again, so there are perks.

Mia was grateful for the extra help behind the bar as the growing popularity of the place had been running her ragged, but I could see in her eyes that she'd been hoping for another girl to work with. Holiday’s Inn being very much a man's drinking establishment meant there was as much a distinct lack of oestrogen in the place as there was an overload of testosterone.

She was polite and friendly enough with me and we worked well together, but beyond that she offered me nothing to raise my hopes.

Then Chris Upped his game a bit.

“We're staying open past midnight Christmas Eve,” he announced.

That didn't bother me. Christmas is usually a lonely time anyway. Not many friends, no family living close. It would be time and a half which would help me afford the Christmas present I planned to give to Mia.

“I have a great gimmick,” was his next salvo. “we’re going to trick the place out as an olde worlde inn,” he pronounced it oldy worldy, “and you two are going to dress the part.”

Then the icing on the cake. He showed us the costumes.

“Skirt’s a bit short for olde worlde, don’t you think?” Mia asked.

“I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with a hemline at all,” I said looking at the two matching outfits. The tops were low cut with enough space for Mia’s mammary endowments, but... I pointed. “I'm going to have a little trouble filling that.”

“You leave that to me,” Chris said with a secretive smile. “Don't worry about the skirts either. We're going for sexy rather than realistic. You put some ruffled panties on under there and the short skirt will come into its own. You'll be out from behind the bar too, taking drinks to customers tables, bending over to pick things up. It'll be great.”

Mia didn't look at all convinced. Chris had recently found a vintage advertising poster for the Holiday Inn that read, “You can squeeze our chambermaids, but don't pinch our towels.” He'd framed it and hung it very prominently just inside the entrance. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up losing Mia before me.

For my part, I was having trouble keeping my composure. As I may have already said, this isn’t something I’d have considered doing off my own bat, but the thought of being made to turned my mouth dry.

Mia twitched an eyebrow at me in an “I’ll do it if you will” sort of way, and before I could allow anything approaching rational thought to change my mind, I shrugged and nodded. It made the other eyebrow go up and changed her overall expression to something I couldn’t read.

Something to do with the inscrutableness of her Chinese heritage maybe?

Chris seemed delighted with our decision. I suspect he thought it’d work out for him either way. If I refused, he could use it as an excuse to get rid of me and hire another barmaid before Christmas. If I agreed, he’d have the pleasure of watching me humiliate myself before suggesting that we do it all over again at New Year’s and any other time he could think of until I caved in.

A couple of days later he presented me with his solution to filling the space in my Gypsy blouse. I’d seen them online and I knew they were pretty expensive. The outfit, he could have found a suitable girl to fit, but I understood why he'd not wanted to spend money on something like this until he knew I’d agreed to his mad idea.

I think they call it a breast form breastplate. It’s all flesh coloured silicon from the top of the ribs up to half-way up the neck and out to the top of the shoulders. Appropriately hairless and inevitably – since Chris likes his barmaids well endowed – a couple of sizeable lumps on the front.

The skin tone match wasn’t bad, but it was fairly obvious where the silicon ended and my neck began. The solution to this came from Mia who presented me with a black lace choker. I’m not usually one for having things round my neck, but this was gentle enough and hid the join quite successfully.

As we found out when both Chris and Mia wanted an immediate modelling session, which had me changing into fishnet tights, frilly white ruffled undies, seriously short rouched skirt and gathered Gypsy blouse showing a considerable amount of my new cleavage.

I didn’t have to do much with my hair to convince myself that there was a pretty girl looking back from the mirror, though what was going on in my panties gave me enough of a conflicting argument that I ended up feeling decidedly confused.

I really didn't need either my boss or my unrequited romantic interest seeing me with my skirt tenting like it was, so I employed a technique I’d learnt whilst exploring guilty pleasures on the interweb. Essentially, I flicked the tip of my offending organ until it got the message. By the time Chris banged on the door for the second time, calling me a wuss and telling me to get out there, I had my body under some sort of control again.

Chris inevitably roared with laughter, but I was only really interested in Mia’s response, which was decidedly different from expected. She gave me an encouraging smile and started playing with my hair.

“You know, we can definitely do something with this,” she said. “A bit of hairspray, a little war paint, you'll probably end up with more tips than me.”

“You wouldn't mind that?”

She smiled. “If it means I don't have so many people groping me it'll be worth it. These look amazing.” She pointed at my added extras. “Do you mind?”

“Well, they’re not really a part of me, so I don’t think it'll bother me much. Go ahead.”

I didn't feel much in my chest, but just watching her massage my breasts set my little soldier standing to attention again.

“Oh no.” I crossed my legs and dropped into an awkward stoop, covering my embarrassment with my hands. This set Chris off all over again. I ran for the bathroom without looking to see how Mia reacted.

Christmas Eve came all too soon, and with it my public debut. Surprisingly I didn't feel that nervous. For one thing, Chris bought me a pair of four-inch heels to complete the outfit. They fastened on with tiny buckles which didn't trap me in them completely, but it did mean I couldn't just kick them off whenever I wanted. At least he relented on the six inches he'd been planning on after Mia convinced him the lower heels would give me the shapely legs and pert bum he was looking for without crippling me. Balancing on four-inches still proved to be enough of a challenge though, so Chris had me practicing in them behind closed doors every chance I had. And if I was practicing in the shoes, he figured I might as well be practicing in the whole get up, so I was quite used to wearing a skirt by the time the pub opened for business on December the twenty-fourth.

The place soon filled. Most of our clients were the sort who got in the way of Christmas preparations at home, meaning their significant others were only too pleased to get them out from underfoot. The rest didn't have anyone at home to get in the way of so, with the prospect of not one but two scantily clad barmaids mincing about, serving drinks and regularly passing within groping distance, we had a pretty much full house.

My main concern was my little feller letting me down again, but Mia had a solution to that. She agreed that I should share the girls loos with her, since we were likely to be the only ones with even a partial claim to being able to do so. She steered me into the ladies just before opening time and pushed me into a stall.

“Chris is a dick,” she said.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“You know he’s hoping you'll have a growth spurt this evening, just so his customers can have a laugh at your expense. Probably has something planned so it's pretty much inevitable.”

“It’s pretty much inevitable anyway, with you looking like that. Even with me looking like this.” I couldn't help staring at my reflection in the mirror. What Mia had done with a little hairspray and makeup was beyond words. I wasn’t sure if I actually fancied me more than her in that moment.

“Let's make it a little less inevitable, shall we?” She lifted my skirt and put her hand down my knickers.

The result was embarrassingly quick and entirely as you'd expect.

She handed me enough tissues to clear up the aftermath and set about washing her hands. When we were both sorted, she pulled a sort of tube of material out of her handbag.

“Do you know what Chinese handcuffs are? And please, no racist comments.”

“I wasn’t going to, and no, I don't think so.”

“They’re usually a sort of wickerwork tube with the weave diagonal to the edge of the tube. You stick a finger in each end and the harder you pull them apart the tighter they become.”

“Okay, yeah, I think I had one of those in a magic set when I was a kid.”

“This should work in a similar way. Stick your thingy into it, hold it in place and pull it tight.”

I did as instructed and my 'thingy’, significantly deflated as it was, still ended up caught in the tightening weave.

“Now pull it between your legs. It splits at the other end so you should be able to bring it round either side and tie it in place.”

I was able to do that. It sorted out the meat but left the two veg in awkward positions.

“I think I'm going to be walking a bit bandy legged like this. My, er, wotsits aren't exactly comfortable.”

“Try jiggling them about a bit. I think they should go back where they originally came from with a little encouragement.”

“How do you know these things?”

“My brother – well, sister really, I suppose – is kind of like this, but by choice.”

“I guess when it comes down to it, this is sort of a choice for me too.”

“You don’t say?” Her eyes widened a little as did her irises.

So, what was that about?

“Yeah, kind of. I mean I could always have said no, right?”

“And he'd most likely have fired you, or at least given you an ultimatum: my way or the highway sort of thing.”

“I'm guessing most blokes would have chosen to hit the road at that point.” I’d been fiddling about inside my smalls all through this conversation. Not something I’d ever have imagined myself doing in the presence of a girl, let alone one I fancied, but the Scrotal twins found their niche and I was abruptly considerably more comfortable.

“I'm beginning to think you’re not most blokes,” she smiled. “But maybe we should pick this up later. It sounds like the evening’s getting underway. Remember, keep smiling and keep your cool. They’re all arseholes, but let’s pretend they’re not for tonight, okay? It is Christmas after all, and they are paying to have a good time.”

I wasn't sure what she meant until we stepped out of the bathroom. Mia was treated to a cheer, which didn't sound at all condescending (like this doesn't sound at all sarcastic), then when I appeared behind her the flavour of the mood changed. It's hard to say exactly how since there were so many different responses. Most laughed simply because they knew who I was underneath all the frills and makeup. Quite a few of the laughs choked off when their owners realised that not only was I a bloke, but I was also going to give them wet dreams later. This led to anger in some, disgust in others and a range of emotions in the rest I couldn't begin to identify. There were a good number who jeered from the moment I showed myself, others who sat dumbstruck. Overall though, there was not a single friendly face in the room other than the one standing beside me.

I looked nervously across at Mia and she smiled back at me, and that moment taught me the power of a smile. It was enough. I pushed past the ugly feelings threatening to overwhelm me and found my own happy place. Not a response to a happy feeling, but more an act of will. A weapon to use against all the unkindness ranging against me. As I wielded it, I could feel it slicing through all the bad feelings.

I took orders, I delivered drinks, I endured ugly looks and filthy insults, all the while armoured by that smile, and as the evening wore on, I felt the tide turn. I remember the first time I felt a hand squeeze my buttocks through the layers of frills encasing it. It was unexpected, unwanted perhaps, but in it’s own way it was a validation, a feeling that I was succeeding, and for the first time since Mia and I had faced the crowd, I felt my smile broaden, this time not because I willed it, but because of the feeling of something like acceptance being willed my way.

The pub stayed open way past midnight. We lost most of the crowd to their better halves before the witching hour struck, but by then the mood of the place had turned and I was pulled underneath the mistletoe just as often as Mia was. Those that remained grew bolder as the night turned into early morning and the constant flow of booze loosened the last of their restraints. I found myself searching for an ever-greater agility, both of body and of mind, to escape the grasping clutches of all the old leches without leaving them feeling rejected.

It was exhausting, but it was exhilarating too. I felt a euphoria building inside me as, for the first time in my life, I felt myself in my element. This was me, all the way through, and this was where I belonged.

All things come to an end though and the last customer finally Walked out the door at about half past three. Chris, whose presence I had missed through most of the evening, bolted the doors and headed for the tills to call up the evening's receipts. I barely had the dexterity to undo the tiny buckles on my shoes, but I managed and felt a groan of relief as my feet escaped their confinement. Mia laughed as she slumped down beside me, kicking off her own pumps with practiced ease.

Chris came over and set our tip jars in front of us. “Doesn't look like I need to pay you tonight,” he said good naturedly.

“Just you try and stuff us you old fart,” Mia replied with equal good nature. She poured hers out on the table and started to count. After a moment I followed suit. Mia had suggested we share the tips equally but had agreed to using separate jars as a way of keeping score. I'd expected mine too be so much emptier and I’d intended making sure she kept her share, but the two jars were pretty much equally full and by the time we’d both totalled everything up, we found I was ahead by a tenner. I offered her a five-pound note to equalise things as we’d agreed and she took it with a wry smile.

“Well, if these receipts are to be believed, I can probably afford to pay you for once.” We both gave him a look which he shrugged off. “Hey, you know how much it costs to maintain my sort of lavish lifestyle?”

It was the usual Chris, but in a better mood than usual.

“So how much did we take?” I asked.

He told us and we both whistled.

“Actually,” he headed over to the nearest till, “what it means is that not only can I afford to pay you, but I can afford to give you a Christmas bonus as well.” He came back and handed Mia five crisp – if the term can be used to describe the new plastic banknotes – twenties. He held the same towards me then pulled it back as I reached for it. “Come to think of it, this’ll just about pay for your tits.”

“Are you going to expect me to pay for this outfit?” Mia asked.

“Of course not. That's a business expense; work clothes.”

“Surely the same should apply for both of us then, including the tits.”

Chris handed the cash over then, but with a degree of reluctance.

“Thanks,” I said with my newly practiced smile, and some of the resentment faded from his eyes. “Well, I guess we should change so you can lock up and we can all get on with Christmas.” I started buckling my shoes on again, ignoring the protest my feet were making.

“Ah, yes. Well, about that...”

I paused and looked up. Mia was giving him a suspicious look as well.

“We, er, we had a bit of a break in during the evening. The, er, the office...”

“What about the office, Chris?” A chill shot through me in anticipation.

“Someone forced the lock. I called the police of course, but by the time they got here I’d already figured out that the only thing taken was, er, was your, er, your clothes.”

“What!?”

“After I explained what was going on here, with you and everything, the constable suggested it was probably a sort of joke and that the clothes would most likely turn up tomorrow somewhere nearby. Up a flagpole or something.”

“The keys to my flat are in my jeans pocket,” I said.

“Oh. That's a bugger. I guess you’re going to have to wake up your landlord, aren't you?”

“At four AM on Christmas Day? You obviously haven't met my landlord. If I turn up on his doorstep at stupid o'clock – especially looking like this – he’ll kick me out onto the street, season of goodwill or not.”

“I suppose you'll have to come home with me then,” Mia said. “I mean us girls got to stick together, don't we?”

Chris gave her an odd look, but it was nothing compared to the one on my face. She didn't give either of us time to react further.

“Come on, my place is just around the corner. You won't even have time to get cold.”

She was wrong there, but the place was close, and as soon as we'd crossed the threshold into the warm, she turned and launched herself at me.

The kiss might have lasted longer except my little chappie, who’d been well behaved all evening, chose that moment to start struggling against his restraints. I had no choice but to disengage and rummage under my skirt to loosen his bindings.

One advantage of short skirts: not far to go when your crotch needs a little rearrangement.

Mia grabbed me by the newly freed appendage and pulled me over towards her sofa.

“I'm glad you let him out,” she said, her voice turning husky. “I want to play.”

The next twenty minutes didn’t leave room for thinking, except to replace Mini Me’s sheath with one made of latex.

“Are you sure?” I asked. In retrospect it was a stupid question since she had me on my back and it was her who had stripped both of us out of our knickers.

“Are you?” she replied, straddling me, but stopping short of going all the way, a playful smile dancing across her lips.

I wasn’t entirely, but I gave her a hesitant nod even so.

She took it slow, and I lay back and tried to hang on to my self-control for as long as I could. I lost all track of time, but a time came when her rhythmic movements increased in tempo. I could feel a surge building inside me and, like King Cnut, found myself unable to hold back the rising tide. I stiffened and let out a series of squeaky gasps. Shortly after, every part of me relaxed into an exquisite limpness and Mia eased herself off me, nestling into my side.

“You did good,” she whispered into my ear, nibbling at the lobe.

My fallen soldier twitched, trying to get back up again.

“I take it that wasn't your first time,” I gasped.

“Of course not. Is that your way of telling me that was yours?”

I nodded.

“Then you did very good. Happy Christmas.”

“God, I hope that wasn't my Christmas present,” I said, still breathless. “I'm not sure I could wait three hundred and sixty-four days before doing that again. Assuming, of course, that there's any chance of that happening again.”

She had her hand up my blouse, playing with one of my oversized breasts. I found myself wishing it was real, that I could feel her touch. My little guy twitched again, wishing the same but even more so.

“I was kind of hoping we could go again in a couple of minutes. So, what would you like? As a present I mean?”

“I don't want a lot for Christmas,” I told her.

She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at me, curiosity piqued.

“There is just one thing I need.” I added just a hint of Mariah to the words.

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? You cannot be that corny!”

“’Fraid so. All I need, all I have ever needed, for Christmas...”

“Don’t say it, I'm warning you!”

“Fair enough. Let me show you then. Mind you, I think we’re going to need more protection.”

“Bathroom’s through that door on the left. Go and clean up while I fetch some supplies.”

I tottered off in the indicated direction and did the necessary, which included undoing the fiddly buckles on my shoes and getting rid of them.

We didn't sleep at all that night. I was afraid to in case, when I woke up, all this had been a dream. As for Mia, something had her energised and she wouldn't leave my boobs alone.

“You know they're not real, don't you?”

“Mhm. You'd be enjoying this a lot more if they were.”

“I think you only like me because I've got big tits?”

It took a second to surface, but she burst out laughing.

“What?”

“If I ever had any doubt...” she couldn't finish the sentence, she was laughing so hard.

“What?” I repeated.

She pulled herself together with some difficulty. “That,” she declared, “was such a girly thing to say. Are you sure you're a guy?”

“I don't know. Are you into girls?”

“I’m into you.”

“Yes, but you only seem to have been into me since, well, you know, all this.” I fingered my blouse and waved down towards my skirt, which was beginning to rise again in a most unladylike manner.

“I’m not sure if it would be fair of me to comment on that. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of interested in this part of you too.” She reached a hand under my skirt, causing my eyes to cross, and conversation lapsed for the next half hour.

Dawn greeted us some time later, peaking in through the window to reveal more of Mia’s flat than I'd been able to make out in the dark. A modest Christmas tree sat in a corner nearby with a small stack of presents under it.

Mia disengaged herself from our tangle and disappeared through the door that led to the bathroom and her bedroom. A couple of minutes later, following the sound of a toilet flushing, she returned carrying a gift-wrapped package, which she offered to me.

“Happy Christmas,” she said.

It was large, covering more of my lap than the skimpy skirt I was wearing, and soft underneath the wrapping.

“Thank you.” I accepted the gift almost reverentially. “I had one for you as well, but it was with my clothes so...”

“It doesn't matter.” She perched on the sofa beside me. “Are you going to open it then?”

So I did. Inside I found an exquisite floral print dress. Orange, pale blue and white flowers on a black background, drop sleeves and a very full skirt. I stood up and held it against me.

“This is how you see me then?” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

“I was kind of hoping it might be how you see yourself. I mean, I'm not going to lie, I do like this aspect of you, but I don't want to force you into anything you don't want.”

“Where can I change?”

“Go have a shower.” She pointed at the door I knew led to the bathroom. “Towel’s are in the closet opposite, then you can get dressed in my room. Take your time, I'll put some coffee on.”

The bathroom and bedroom were right next to each other. Not quite an en suite, but they might as well have been. I lay the dress on Mia’s unused double bed then searched through the indicated closet for a towel before stripping off my work clothes.

First order of business was the jiggle twins. I turned the breastplate inside out and sponged it down, leaving it to one side to dry while I showered.

I’d washed my hair the previous day, so tied it out of the way. Mia's soaps were all floral, which was an added treat as I ended up smelling quite delicious by the time I was done. Her present included a pair of sheer tights and more practical underwear than Chris had provided for us, including a bra which he had deliberately left out of our previous day's costumes.

Mia’s closets had sliding mirror doors. Fully dressed, I stood in front of them and took in my new image. Slutty barmaid me had aroused my base nature. Elegant me awoke a completely different feeling inside me. I could barely catch my breath. No makeup after the shower and my hair needed a brush, but still I felt beautiful in a way I’d never experienced before.

“Coffee’s ready,” Mia called with the vaguest hint of impatience.

It shook me out of my daze. Somewhat nervously I stepped out of the bedroom.

Mia stood transfixed for long enough to bring my nervousness to the limit of endurance. When she finally spoke, I couldn't help flinching.

“Wow!” she breathed. “You are too good looking to hide this from the world.”

I bowed my head shyly.

“You really are a natural, you know? We should do something with your face and hair though. Maybe after coffee.” She handed me one and I dangled my lips in it gratefully.

The finishing touches actually took place after coffee and breakfast. This time Mia only did one half of my face and insisted I have a go at the other. It was challenging given that I’m not the most artistic of people, but in the end, I managed to make both sides match reasonably well.

The hair was easier. A quick brush to break through the stickiness of yesterday's hair spray, then a bit of creativity and a fresh application of product to put things where they belonged. I wasn't too keen on using the spray, but it gave me much needed volume, and once again I was ready to rock and roll.

Mia took her turn next while I cleared away the breakfast things. She had about finished getting dressed when the doorbell rang.

“Would you mind getting that?” she called. “It'll probably be my brother.”

It wasn’t.

“Er, hi Chris,” I said trying to sound nonchalant.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “So, I had a phone call from the police this morning telling me they'd received a report of some clothes floating in the pond over in the park, and maybe I’d like to check if they were the ones I’d reported stolen. They’re a bit damp, but by the look of it that’s not going to bother you much. Merry Christmas.”

He held out a pile of clothing – recognisably mine. It was a lot more than a bit damp.

“Thanks.” I took the sopping pile and held it gingerly away from my dress. “And Merry Christmas to you too.”

“We should maybe have a talk about this sometime soon.” He pointed at the clothes I was making such an effort to protect.

“Might I remind you whose idea it was to put me in a skirt in the first place?”

“And yet you can’t really blame me for your current choice of attire.”

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” I didn't really feel like arguing. Chris had a reputation for grabbing whichever end of the stick he liked the look of, regardless of whether it was the right one. Besides, he wasn't that far from the right end this time.

“I’d better not. The missus wasn’t too pleased with me coming out on Christmas morning. I promised to be as quick as I could.

“I'm serious about having the talk though. If you and Mia are up for it, we could meet at the pub tomorrow afternoon, say about three?”

Mia chose that moment to step out of the bedroom. She was wearing a similar dress to the one she’d given me, only with a pale cream background, and was fiddling with an earring. She stopped abruptly when she saw who was at the door.

“Oh! Hi boss. I was expecting... Happy Christmas.”

“You too, Mia.”

“Chris was wondering if we'd be free for a chat tomorrow at about three o’clock, down at the pub.”

She shrugged. “I guess so. Nothing much happens on Boxing Day. What about?”

“He hasn't said, not exactly. Is there somewhere I can put these?”

“Sure.” She looked at the sodden clothes in my hand and the way they were dripping on her carpet. “Put them in the shower for now. I'll find some hangers in a minute.”

“Yeah, well I’d better be off. See you two tomorrow.” Chris turned to leave while I went to dispose of my clothing. Mia shut the door.

A few seconds searching recovered my keys from my jeans pocket and my wallet and Mia’s gifta from my jacket. They were all soaked but intact as far as I could tell. Being addicted to my phone as I am, I’d kept it in the pocket of my costume’s apron the previous day, otherwise that would most likely have been turned into a very expensive brick.

Quickest way of losing money I know. Drop a thousand quid’s worth of smart phone into water and for about a thousandth of a second you’re losing cash at a million quid per second.

I dropped my keys and wallet on Mia's dressing table – one good thing about those horrible new plastic banknotes: they’re pretty much waterproof – and used my towel to mop up the worst of the water from the present before carrying it through to the living room. Mia was staring at the door with a pensive look on her face. I passed the gift across, derailing her train of thought.

“Sorry it's a bit of a mess. Spending the night in the pond will do that. What's inside should be okay though.”

Wet wrapping paper proved easier to tear than dry. She had the box unwrapped and opened by the time I'd finished speaking.

“It's perfect,” she said lifting out the necklace. Double necklace I should say. Sterling silver, coming down to a circular enamelled silver pendant with a couple of stones in it. “It comes apart, doesn't it?” She fiddled with it for a second until it did just that, revealing two separate curved teardrops, each with its own stone. She undid the clasp on the darker of the two and put it around my neck. “I think you’re more Yin to my Yang, don't you?”

“I don't really know what that means.”

She held her hair out of the way while I clipped the white pendant around her neck.

“Yin represents Earth, darkness, passivity... Femaleness. Yang is Heaven, light, activity, maleness.”

“You think I'm more of a girl than you?”

She reached over and kissed me on the lips. “Well, which of us do you think is being more passive in this relationship?”

We were in a relationship already? That was welcome news.

“I can’t argue with that, and you are definitely more heavenly than me, but how do you explain what I have under my skirts.”

“All Yin needs a little Yang. That’s what’s represented by the white dot, or white gemstone in your pendant. You wouldn’t be complete without this.” She reached her hand under my skirt to demonstrate.

The doorbell rang for the second time.

“That will be my brother this time. We’ll keep this for later.” She patted my bulge gently.

Mia hadn’t mentioned that her brother was also her twin. Being brother and sister meant they couldn’t be identical, but they weren’t far off.

“This is my brother, James,” Mia made the introductions, “but she prefers Jamie. Jamie, this is my friend…”

“Er, Ella,” I said. I’d been thinking about names since the first time I’d seen myself in the mirror, and this one fit for a number of reasons.”

“Like Cinderella?” Jamie asked.

“Maybe, a bit. Ella means she or her or girl, so Cinderella would be the girl by the cinders or ashes. I like Ella because it kind of tells me who I can be.”

Jamie, who had shown no small amount of disquiet that her sister would blurt out her secret, gave me an odd look.

“I’m, er… I guess I’m like you a little bit.” I smoothed my skirt against my legs revealing the bulge Mia had left me with. One of the advantages of full skirts I realised.

“Why don’t you go get changed?” Mia suggested. “It’s just us girls today.”

Mia led me into the kitchen area and handed me an apron, putting one on herself. Mine was a sort of pastel pink with frilly lingerie in relevant places, while hers was plain white with the words “Don’t mess with the kitchen goddess” emblazoned across the front. She organised me with some menial aspect of meal preparation – peeling and cross-cutting the sprouts I think – before setting about her own bit of culinary magic.

“Turkey always strikes me as a little disappointing, and it’s way too much meat for just two or three people. I hope you don’t mind, but I have a crown roast planned for lunch.”

I thought about the ready meal I had waiting for me in the freezer. “Sounds so much better than what I had planned.”

That earned me a smile.

Then Jamie appeared with a smile of her own – one that rivalled her sister’s. The cut of her dress was pretty much identical to Mia’s and mine, as was the floral design. The white base colour matched Jamie’s darker skin better than Mia’s cream. I can’t say I’ve ever thought of myself as being the least bit gay, so I can only imagine that the response in my Yang could only have been to her Yin. I gave Mia a guilty glance, which she returned with a bright, mirthful smile.

Jamie also took on some of the grunt work in meal preparation – peeling potatoes for her as I recall – and the whole of lunch was underway in next to no time. With timers set and oven humming, there wasn’t much left to do, so Mia pulled a bottle of prosecco out of the fridge and poured us all a glass of sparkles.

“Happy Christmas to my two favourite girls,” she proposed.

Jamie and I shared a look and raised our own glasses.

We played board games while lunch cooked. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, which isn’t to say I forgot how I was dressed or who I was with, but more that it seemed somehow more right than any other time in my life. Right for us that is. I thought of my own family, my mum and dad who had their own somewhat traditional views on gender and sexuality. I knew they wouldn’t have approved of this, but it takes all sorts to make a world.

About the time the kitchen started producing truly mouth-watering smells, I excused myself for a few minutes and put a call through to my folks, offering and receiving season’s wishes. We’d exchanged gifts through the time-honoured tradition of Amazonian primal delivery a week or so previously. Their gift to me sat as yet unopened in my flat. I explained about misplacing my keys and staying overnight with a work colleague who had then invited me to lunch, and promised to call them again later when I’d had a chance to open it. They said something about missing me and wishing I could have come home for the holiday break, and I apologised and explained yet again about my work commitments. Dad grumbled about businesses that wouldn’t let their employees enjoy a break at Christmas and I let him get it out of his system for a few minutes before promising to visit sometime early in the new year.

All in all, it was a pretty typical Christmas phone call with my folks, cut blessedly short by the announcement that lunch was ready which gave me the excuse I needed to ring off while the conversation was still fairly positive.

I love my folks, I really do, but I find it much easier to do from a distance.

Christmas dinner was a resounding success. Mia was every bit the kitchen goddess her apron professed her to be, and I found myself falling in love with her all over again. They do say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, suggesting that I maybe had a bit more Yang in me than Mia had first thought. After we’d eaten and Jamie and I had cleared the table, rinsed the crocks, and put the pans in to soak, we settled in front of the TV for a few feel-good films. One of the things I love about modern home entertainment is not being restricted by the TV stations choice of what to put on or when.

The rest of the day settled into a fairly typical Christmas afternoon. Jamie fell asleep halfway through Love Actually – my choice. The film I mean, not Jamie using me as a pillow – which Mia found funny enough to send her scurrying after her phone. Photos very much to be kept between the three of us since Jamie was more in the closet than me, despite my only having started my walk on the wild side in the last couple of days.

Dinner time approached and neither Jamie nor I felt much like eating until Mia brought out bowls of chorizo and avocado salad – light enough not to add too much burden to our already overwhelmed digestive processes and different enough in both flavour and texture to reawaken a little gastronomical interest. This she followed with small bowls of lemon sorbet that proved just enough to cleanse the pallet.

“I should let you two have a little time together,” I said once the kitchen had been cleaned and everything put away. “This has been the best Christmas I can remember.”

“You don’t have to go,” Mia said. “I mean all the way back to your flat just to come all the way back to the pub tomorrow.”

“Well, I kind of promised I’d give my parents a call this evening once I’d gone home.”

“So, call them from here.”

“And what do I say about their present which I haven’t opened yet?”

“Tell them your clothes aren’t dry yet – I doubt they are – and that I’m inviting you to stay over another night.”

“And what about your broth… I mean sister.”

“She can sleep on the couch. She usually does when she comes to visit.”

“So where am I going to sleep?”

“God, you’re dense. In my bed of course!”

“Won’t Jamie mind?”

“We can invite her to join us if you feel up to a threesome. I mean she is my sister and I don’t mind sharing if you want to.”

“I don’t have any night things.”

“I have a fresh toothbrush in the bathroom, and I have some really sexy lingerie I can lend you. Come on Ella, you’re not going to make me beg are you?”

“No, I just… it’s just…”

“It’s all happening a bit fast? Yeah, for me too, but is that such a bad thing?”

“I just don’t want to wake up any time soon and find you not there.”

“And do you think that’s more likely to happen if you stay or if you walk away?”

“Give her a break sis.” Jamie had been keeping as low a profile as possible in the small flat, but apparently Mia had crossed a line. “You’ve always been okay living in the moment, because what’s the worst that can happen to you? Your current fling ends up being a bit of a disappointment, so you shrug your shoulders and go onto the next one. For Ella and me, living in the now means hoping for something that we don’t believe will ever happen and being afraid of something else that’s far more likely to come and kick us in the balls.”

Mia gave her brother a shocked look then me a sheepish one. “I… What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re drop dead gorgeous, always have been. You have men lining up to ask you out.”

“You think I want any of that?”

“So, if Ella’s different, be a little more careful how you deal with her. You bully her into doing what you want to do all the time and she’ll probably end up leaving you. If that matters to you, you could think about giving her a little space.

“And while we’re at it, much as I appreciate your offer of a threesome, I’m trans not gay, which means I’m not into sodomy any more than I am incest, and I suspect Ella’s the same.”

Mia looked crestfallen – an odd adjective to use since it refers to a cock’s crest, but then that was probably her Yang showing again.

“I’m sorry,” she said to me. “I never realised…”

“It’s okay. I mean I really want to stay, but I’m afraid of what will come of it. You know, the more you indulge in a pleasure, the quicker you lose interest in it, and I don’t want you ever to lose interest in me, or me in you.”

“No, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking, at least not clearly. I just figured since we’re going to the pub tomorrow, it would be easier to do from here, and if you walk back to your flat in your wet clothes – and they are still pretty damp – you’ll probably catch pneumonia, which means your alternative is to head home as you are, which means walking a couple of miles in those four inch heels plus the chance of your neighbours and landlord seeing you like that when you get there…”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Good,” Jamie said, “’cos I really want to see what you look like in my sister’s negligee, and besides, you owe me a rematch at Scrabble from this morning.”

So I allowed myself to be coaxed back into the living room. Jamie set up the Scrabble board and Mia headed for the kitchen to heat up some mulled wine.

The evening passed in a more relaxed manner. I gave my parents a second call in which I explained why I’d not gone home and promised I’d set some dates in January to visit them when I met with Chris the next day.

Mia’s skimpy nightwear left nothing to the imagination, but I modelled it for Jamie even so. Without his intervention, there would have been nothing to de-escalate the tension between Mia and me. Mia wore a matching set except that the colouring was reversed on hers. She allowed Jamie a quick look at both of us before dragging me back into the bedroom.

“You don’t have to wear these you know.” She stroked one of my breasts with a finger.

“I know, but what I’m wearing wouldn’t look so good without them.”

“Well, we’re under the covers now, so that doesn’t matter.”

“They’re not uncomfortable or anything.”

She snuggled under one of my arms, or at least tried to.

“They kind of get in the way a bit.”

“Let me try.” I wiggled my way under her arm and rested my head on her chest. “I see what you mean.” I kissed her nipple, feeling my own response inside my satin knickers.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“My Yin thanks you, but my Yang has other thoughts.”

She smiled and reached for her nightstand. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

This time it was me on top. It felt entirely different and not as good, but we went slow and managed to make it special for both of us.

I removed the Mammiferous twins when I went to clean up, so when I made it back into bed Mia settled her head on my much flatter chest and lay there quietly.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Mhmm.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking how nice it is to lay here quietly.” She raised her head and kissed my chin playfully.

I kissed her back and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed. My clothes – now dry – lay at my feet as did my other clothes, except for the bra and panties which lay on top of the radiator. They were damp to the touch.

I grabbed the silk nightgown hanging on the back of the bedroom door and slipped my arms through it. It wasn’t even tight across my back. There are times I'm so grateful to have such a slender body.

Jamie was snoring gently on the sofa, her Hello Kitty nightdress just visible under her duvet. I headed for the kitchen where Mia was pouring some milk into a second mug, which she offered to me.

“I washed your underwear from yesterday,” she said, “since you only have the one lot.”

“Well, there are the things that came with the waitress uniform.”

“Frilly panties and no bra. Not entirely up to the job.”

“And there’s the smalls that go with my other clothes.”

“I didn’t touch those, but they did spend a night floating about in a pond, so I suspect they’ll be clean enough.”

“Were you hoping I’d wear the dress again?”

“I was thinking I’d give you the choice.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you think Chris wants to see us about?”

“He said something about it having to do with what I was wearing yesterday. Apart from that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Hm.”

“If I went back to being my old self, what would that mean for us?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“After what Jamie said yesterday, I don’t think it would be right for me to weigh in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how you deal with your trans nature is up to you. You shouldn’t go full time girly just because someone like me likes it. Whatever you decide to do, it should be because it’s right for you.”

“And what if you’re right for me? Shouldn’t I give at least some consideration to your thoughts and feelings?”

“And what if it turns out we’re not right for each other? What if you make all these major lifestyle changes on my account and we don't end up together?”

“Could you keep it down in there? Trying to sleep.”

Jamie's plaintive cry brought our discussion to a premature close and left me no closer to deciding what to do. Mia poured a third mug of coffee for me to pass on to (not so) sleeping beauty, after which I headed back to the bedroom and stared at my options.

A memory from childhood surfaced. Me staring at two toys in a shop and trying to decide which one I wanted to spend my pocket money on. Ten minutes of vacillation on my part and my exasperated mother grabbed one of the two toys at random and thrust it into my hands.

“Okay, you're getting this one,” she'd told me.

To which I'd responded, “But I want the other one.”

She’d then placed the first toy back on the shelf and picked up the second one. She'd offered it to me with the sweetest of smiles. “Alright then,” she’d said calmly, “decision made.”

And it was. I can’t be certain, but I'd like to think that if she'd picked up the second toy first, I’d have been happy with her choice; that it wasn’t just contrariness that made me choose the one my mother hadn't picked, but I suppose the main point I took from the experience was I hadn't known what I wanted until after a choice had been made.

I looked at the clothes I’d had stolen, picked up the trousers. The logical, sensible, safe choice would be to put the past couple of days behind me and go back to being boring old me. No rocking the boat. A few good natured jokes from the locals and back to normal.

In that moment I recognised how desperately I didn't want to be logical, sensible and safe. Christmas Eve at the Inn I’d been in my element. I'd felt a profound sense of euphoria, a discovery of what being me was all about. What had happened once we made it back to Mia’s flat had been a big, fat, juicy cherry on top of it all, but just a cherry nonetheless.

Besides, the trousers smelt of pond-water.

I showered and wriggled into the jiggle twins before thinking to check whether my smalls were dry, which fortunately they were.

I emerged to be greeted by Jamie's sleepily approving smile. The caffeine hadn't quite kicked in, but it was on its way.

Mia appeared from the kitchen carrying jugs of milk and orange juice. She stopped when she saw me.

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” she asked.

“Well, since you ask, I don't really know how I feel about wearing the same thing two days running, but it has to be the best available option.”

“I could probably lend you something.”

“Are you sure you're okay letting your boyfriend loose on your closet?”

“Well, it smarts that you look better in some of my things than I do...”

“That's a matter of opinion...”

“And since opinions matter,” Jamie said having finally drunk enough coffee to fire up the old cerebromatic, “I have to side with my sister in this, so you're outvoted two to one.”

“... but I don't mind sharing, as long as you don’t.”

“I don't have anything to share with you.”

“Not yet, but the January sales are almost upon us and you did do quite well with your tips the other day.”

We did breakfast first since it was ready and so were we, then Mia hunted through her overfilled wardrobe until she'd found something appropriate for both of us to wear.

Mia's choice took barely a moment. Skinny jeans and an oversized sweatshirt had her looking cute and feeling comfortable. Fitting me out proved more problematic. None of Mia’s jeans had enough room for the Yang between my legs, so even if I’d wanted to go for a matching look, I wouldn’t have had the option. She had enough in the way of dresses, skirts and tops to give me an immense choice, but that was in large where the problem lay. This was too formal, that was too slutty, those went together quite well and would work except that the blouse had a bit of a stain on it, and so on. The closet emptied and the pile of rejects on the bed grew alarmingly until the aha moment arrived.

A lot of the problem came from Mia’s skin tone being so different from my own. Most of the colours that looked good on her didn’t do a lot for me. Black wasn’t so much a colour as an absence of it and worked for everyone. Unfortunately Mia didn’t have much in black and the first thing she came across was a short A-line skirt with braces (or suspenders depending on which side of the Atlantic you live). The instant she found it, she went rummaging in another part of her wardrobe until she pulled out a light cream – almost white – ribbed turtle-neck sweater and a pair of thick woollen tights in an almost identical colour.

“You should be able to get away with wearing your trainers with these,” she said.

“I’ll freeze,” I said back.

“I have a coat that comes down to your knees; you’ll be fine. Trust me, you’ll be a lot colder in that dress with those tights.”

She gave me her half smile and eye twitch indicating her mood was improving and, as ever, I allowed myself to be led by her suggestions.

The skirt was short enough to have me worried about what it might show, so I made use of Mia’s clever little gadget for tucking my bits away. Yet again my plums took a little jiggling to hide, but once they were dealt with, I found myself very much liking the overall effect.

With Mia’s permission, I had a play with the makeup and hairspray and ended up with an understated but decidedly girly look which won both Mia’s and Jamie’s approval.

Jamie spent the morning in girl mode and even allowed us to coax her outside for a walk through the nearby park. She was nervous of being spotted by some of her parents’ friends, but there weren’t that many people about and we were far enough from her parents’ neighbourhood that the risk was negligible.

If anything, it should have been me having the attack of nerves as we were very much in the area where most of our locals lived. Having said that, most of our locals would have been nursing their Christmas hangovers, so we only passed one or two on our excursion.

It came as a surprise how little I cared about their knowing looks, their jiggling eyebrows and their snide comments. With each moment the realisation that this was the real me grew in me. What other people thought about me was incidental. If they couldn’t handle it, or if they had to make rude comments in order to do so, then that was more their problem than mine.

We did cut the walk a little short because, despite Mia’s assurances, my legs did not fair well in the near zero temperatures protected only by the woollen tights. It felt good to be back in comfortable shoes, but boots would have been better.

Lunch was a light but tasty affair consisting of beef and beetroot sandwiches, the beef being the remains of the previous day’s roast, and some crisps – cheese and onion of course. None of us managed more than a couple of the sandwiches before we were satisfied, which left quite a lot of leftovers.

After we’d eaten, Jamie went to change while Mia and I cleared up. I could see the familiar weight on his shoulders when he reappeared in boy mode. It was something I realised I’d carried all my life without really noticing it, only its current absence making me aware it had ever been there at all.

“Is it worth it?” I asked him.

“What?”

“Living like that?”

“You’re one to talk!”

“I know. I mean you and me, we’ve so much in common. Up until a couple of days ago I hadn’t even considered this as being an option. I was brought up by parents who made it clear that they didn’t approve of alternative lifestyles, probably without even realising they were raising a child who had issues in that area, and I just accepted what they told me and shouldered the burden. If it hadn’t been for my dick of a boss trying to shame me into quitting, I would probably never have made even the steps you’ve made.”

“You can thank Mia for that. She saw I was struggling and managed to convince me to talk to her about it. Since then, she’s given me a safe place to explore the girl in me.”

“Is it enough, just having that occasional outlet?”

“I don’t know. I mean even when I’m Jamie, I’m totally aware that the whole thing’s a sham. It means I can be myself for a while, but I’m still hiding from my mum and dad. As long as the people I care about don’t know about the real me, then I’m lying to them whenever I put on this disguise. I’m just too scared of what they might think if I tell them.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m facing the same thing. I know my parents are anti gay and trans, which means I have an awkward conversation ahead of me.”

“You’ve made up your mind then?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean I wouldn’t have made it this far without my boss, or you and Mia, but having been first persuaded to put on a skirt, then to think for myself what it means, I’ve sort of realised I feel more alive like this.”

“You’re sure you’re not just doing it for my sister?”

I looked over at Mia standing in the kitchen doorway.

“I’ll be honest, if she asked me, I’d do it just for her, but no, she told me to make this decision for me and I have. Just being like this makes me feel so much better, it more than makes up for the downside.”

“Like those blokes in the park?”

“Yeah, like those blokes in the park.”

“What about when you tell your parents?”

“That’s a bridge I’ll have to burn when I come to it.”

“Let me know how it goes. You might persuade me yet.”

It ended our time together on something of a sour note, but I couldn’t hold that against Jamie. There were consequences to whichever path we chose and only time would tell which of the two of us took the right one.

With Jamie gone, Mia and I prepared to leave for our meeting with Chris. However much of a dick he was, he was still our boss and it wouldn’t do to be late.

“You’re sure you want to go looking like that?” Mia asked.

“Why, what’s wrong with the way I look?” I sought out a mirror to give myself a once over.

“Nothing from my point of view, but… Oh, I don’t know…”

“I’m good, unless you have a longer coat.”

“No, that’s the best I have. Okay, if you’re sure…”

I led the way out of the flat.

As it was, it was Chris who kept us waiting. Between the cold and my lack of protection against it, I felt seriously in danger of joining alongside the ranks of certain alloy-based primates in the loss of my reproductive capacity.

Actually, with them safely tucked away, they weren’t in so much danger as other extremities. I could swear I had an icicle forming on the tip of my nose by the time he finally pulled up.

He stepped out of his car and beamed at me, taking in my appearance. The coat hid much of it, but there was no disguising my wool-clad legs, and with the way I was holding the coat wrapped tight about me, the Double Dees he’d invested in on my behalf were highly prominent.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said cheerfully without the least hint of apology in his voice. “Let’s get in out of this brass monkey weather before you switch sides completely.”

I hate it when someone else nicks my jokes.

He turned on the lights and set about pulling the chairs off the tables, indicating we should do the same.

Once we’d done, he stepped behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine and three glasses, which he brought over to the table nearest us.

He gave Mia a pensive look for a moment, then turned his attention on me, a very definite twinkle in his eyes. With my coat off and hanging by the door, I felt a lot more vulnerable. I’m not sure I’d ever fully understood the meaning of the term, ‘undressing her with his eyes’ until that moment. It bothered me all the more because of what would have been revealed if it had been a genuine undressing.

He poured the drinks and offered them to us – me first I noted.

“You know what kind of bar this is,” he said. “Our clientele is made up of, for the most part, a bunch of lecherous old men.”

No argument there. I sipped at my wine and waited. Mia just waited.

“It’s no secret I’d prefer to have two well endowed young ladies behind the bar. Mia’s been great for business, you less so, at least until very recently.”

We continued to wait. The punchline was on its way, and I had no intention of saying anything until it had been delivered.

“Being an equal opportunities employer, I didn’t have much choice but to hire you, and I can’t fire you without cause, which so far you haven’t given me.”

Another sip, more waiting.

“Honestly, I’ve been hoping that you’d quit. I mean the job’s not for everyone – makes certain demands that a lot of people wouldn’t be prepared to put up with.”

Like dressing up as a tarty barmaid and parading about in front of a bunch of lecherous old farts. That deserved another sip, which turned into more of a gulp.

“Let’s face it, the place would run a lot better if we had two pairs of tits behind the bar instead of one. Christmas Eve showed us that.”

I glanced at Mia whose face was stony. For someone who doesn’t look all that oriental, she still has a major capacity for inscrutability.

“Christmas Eve showed me something else. I don’t actually need to have two girls working for me to have two great pairs of tits behind the bar and a room full of happy customers. I called in on a few of our regulars on my way here to find out how they felt about the new barmaid, and they love her.

“I mean, sure, they know it’s you, but they don’t care. They were ready to give you a hard time a couple of days ago, but in the end, you really won them over.”

Another long sip and my glass was empty. Chris held up the bottle and I held it out for a refill.

“So, here’s my proposal, especially as it seems you’re seriously getting in touch with your feminine side. You carry on working for me but looking like this, and I stop looking for ways to get you to leave.”

I dipped my lips back into my glass of wine and kept waiting.

“I mean it makes so much sense. As long as you’re still male, I’m still an equal opportunities employer. If you’re so evidently… well whatever you are, I also get to tick the box for employing someone with an alternative lifestyle. What’s more, as long as you continue to look as good as you did on Christmas Eve, you’ll be a better prospect than any of the girls who applied for the job, plus you know your way around a bar, which a lot of them didn’t. What do you say?”

“No more dirty jobs,” Mia said, “like cleaning the taps.”

“What?”

“You want her to look good, you won’t want her doing grubby work.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.”

“And no more heavy lifting.”

“Seriously?”

“You try doing it in heels and then decide how serious I am. Besides, those kegs are filthy so it kind of comes under condition one.”

The smile was slipping from Chris’s face, but he nodded. “You keep some scruffy clothes and sensible shoes here and when we take delivery you get to be a bloke for a bit while we unload. That’ll be a couple of hours twice a week.”

I shrugged and nodded. I didn’t mind the lifting and I could wear a hoody to keep my hair clean.

“We want a clothing allowance and autonomy in deciding what we buy and what we wear at work. It won’t be a nun’s habit, but it won’t be slut-wear like Christmas Eve either.”

“I rather like the idea of a couple of naughty nuns running the bar.”

“And we want a percentage of the profits.”

“No.”

“You said it yourself, this place is only as successful as it is because of the eye candy behind the bar. We leave, what happens to your profits?”

Chris winced. “Five percent.”

“Ten, each.”

“If it’s ten then you buy your own damn clothes.”

“Agreed.” She looked at me. “Agreed?”

I put my glass down and made to hold out my hand. Mia put hers on top of it, holding me back.

“Except she’ll need a new wardrobe to get started. You can call it a business expense.”

“How much is that going to cost me?”

“I reckon a thousand quid would do for starters.”

“A grand! Are you crazy!”

“Women’s clothes are expensive Chris, and you do want her to look her best, don’t you?”

“Five hundred’s my best offer.”

“A monkey in brass?” I spoke for the first time since we’d arrived.

Chris scowled at me. It seemed he didn’t like me nicking my joke back.

Or maybe he didn’t get it. A monkey is slang for five hundred quid in parts of the UK, the origin of the term being unclear. Brass on the other hand comes from a Yorkshire saying, 'where there’s muck there's brass’.

Mia took her hand off mine, so I extended it.

“You’ll change your employment details,” Chris said. “Where it asks for your gender, I want you to tick other.”

“Okay,” I said.

“And we’re opening tonight, so both of you be here by five for a six o’clock start.”

“Deal,” Mia and I both said, and we shook.

“That went better than I expected,” she said as we made our way from the pub towards my flat. Despite our need to be back at work in less than two hours, I’d not been home in two days and felt a growing desire to go there. Besides, I needed to find out sooner rather than later how my landlord was going to react to the new me.

I didn’t have long to find out.

“What is you?” A voice said from the top of the stairs as I fumbled through my keys for the right one. I looked up to see the wannabee gangsta who was my landlord, complete with bling and reversed baseball cap.

“I’m your tenant, Mr Landis.” I made no attempt to hide my voice.

“Nah, dat can’t be, innit? Cos I is renting dis place out to a man, and you ain’t no man.”

“My clothes were stolen and thrown in the pond, Mr Landis.”

“Dey not dry by now?”

“They are but they smell rather bad.”

“So you been wearing dis for de las’ two days now?”

“Well yesterday was a different dress…”

“So why you not come back to change before now?”

“My keys were with my clothes when they were stolen. I didn’t get them back until quite late on Christmas day and I didn’t think you’d appreciate being disturbed at four in the morning.”

“True dat, but why you not come back after you got your keys?”

“Well, to be honest, I kind of got used to being dressed like this. I rather like it.”

“Yeah, well dere we gotta problem, ‘cos I don’t want no deviant stayin’ in my property. You can clear your stuff out by de end of de day.”

“I’m paid up to the middle of January, Mr Landis.”

“Yeah, well you can kiss goodbye to dat, and your deposit, ‘cos I’m kickin’ you out right now.”

“Perhaps we should see what the police have to say about that,” said Mia pulling out her phone.

“Wha’, is you his lawyer or someting?”

“Girlfriend actually, but I do know my rights, and his.”

“You have to show that I’ve breached my tenancy agreement Mr Landis, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“Well, you is outa here by de end of de monf. I ain't havin’ no skank manhoe livin’ in my place.”

“Are you giving me my four week notice to vacate, Mr Landis?”

“What?”

“Maybe you should read your own tenancy agreement, Mr Landis. Unless I’ve done something to breach the conditions of my stay, you're obliged to give me four weeks notice.”

“I don't want you hangin’ around here for no four weeks!”

“Try to get rid of me any sooner and I will contest it, at which point you may find they'll see your actions as prejudicial. You'll end up with a fine and an injunction telling you to let me stay. I'll bring you your keys on the twenty second of January, and I'll expect my deposit back, unless you can show anything wrong with the place.”

He glared at me aggressively for a moment then left.

“You know he has no right to tell you to leave?”

“Yes, I know, but who’d want to have to deal with that every month? It’s alright, I’ll find somewhere else easily enough.”

“Dressed like that, or will you go back into bloke-mode when you go looking? In which case, what happens when your new landlord sees the new you?”

“I guess I’ll just have to find out, won’t I? Unless it’s not too early to ask if you might be looking for a roommate?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I wasn’t being serious, at least not entirely.”

I opened the door and invited her in. I’d left it neat enough, I mean you never know when you might have an opportunity to bring someone home with you, do you?

My main reason for dropping by the flat was to pick up the solitary gift sitting under the miniature Christmas Tree on the sideboard, lovingly wrapped in brown cardboard by some minimum wage slave somewhere before being dumped unceremoniously outside my door half an hour after I went to work.

I picked it up and tore it open. It was typically generous and just as typically so not something I wanted.

I pulled out my phone and called home.

“Hi Mum.”

“Hello dear. This is a nice surprise.”

“Yeah, well, I told you I’d call you once I made it back to the flat. I opened my present. It’s… very thoughtful...”

“Oh good, I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.”

“It’s just that…”

“What’s the matter dear? If it doesn’t work, we can always send it back.”

“No it’s… I mean I haven’t taken it out of the box yet so I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s fine. It’s just… I wish you’d talked to me about it first.”

“Your Aunt Maddy says she uses hers all the time. We’ve already had a couple of ‘online chats’ with her and it was almost like she was here with us in the room.”

She sounded so pleased with herself, it felt like kicking a puppy.

“Mum, you do know who makes these?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s one of those nasty big corporations that are taking over the world like Google or Microsoft…”

“Or Facebook. Mum, these devices are made by Facebook.”

“What of it?”

“Do you remember a year or two ago, I told you about that film I found on Netflix called the Great Hack?”

“We don’t have Netflix sweetheart, we told you.”

“That’s not the point Mum. I told you what the film was about. You remember me telling you about a company called Cambridge Analytica, about how they used misappropriated information from Facebook users to come up with a strategy to influence the outcome of the Brexit vote and Trump’s presidential campaign?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything, dear.”

“The point, mother, is that Facebook doesn’t have the best reputation for looking after your private information. For all I know they may even have been involved with Cambridge Analytica. And now you have a device in your home that’s always on and listening to what you’re saying, quite possibly recording it all.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she laughed, “you can be so melodramatic at times. Why don’t you set yours up and we can have a proper chat, face to face?”

Why not indeed? I wasn’t sure this was the way I wanted my mother to find out about my recent lifestyle changes. Or my father if he happened to be nearby.

“The pub’s open again tonight, Mum. I have to get a few things together and head in to work.”

“Nonsense. It took us more time to get ours out of the box than to get it working, and you know what we’re like. For you it’ll be no time at all, then we can have a short chat before you have to go.”

On the other hand, it hurt less to rip a sticking plaster off than to peel it gently. I dug a knife out of the kitchen drawer and cut through the seal on the box.

“Is Dad there?” I asked as I wrestled the ten-inch screen out of the box.

“He is, but he’s having a nap right now. I could wake him if you want.”

“No, that’s okay.”

Mia twitched her eyebrows at me as I plugged the device in and started working through the setup. I’d stopped using Facebook some years ago when the news of the data privacy scandal made it into the media, but that just meant it was dormant and easy enough to wake up. Like Mum said, the Portal took only a matter of minutes to set up. I found her in my Facebook Friends and clicked to make the link.

“Oh, hello dear,” she smiled at me out of the small screen. “Don’t you look nice.”

I blinked a couple of times. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but nonchalant indifference hadn’t featured anywhere in the list.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’ll admit I was a little more shocked yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after our little chat, your father decided to see if he could find out what sort of place would insist on its employees working into the small hours of Christmas morning, so he searched to see if Holiday’s Inn had a Facebook page. It didn’t take long to find.”

I felt my stomach take a nosedive. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“We were a little confused at first. I mean you already told us that you were one of only two bar staff. Is that your colleague with you now?”

“Er, yes. Mum, this is Mia. Mia, my mum. Mia’s the one who looked after me when I lost my keys.”

“I’m very grateful to you dear.” She raised her voice a little, though I’m not sure if it was because Mia was in the background behind me or because she was evidently not white British.

“Oh, it was no problem. My brother and I enjoyed having him.”

“Is this your idea?” Mum waved at me but was evidently still talking to my girlfriend.

“Not at all. Our boss thought it would be a bit of fun.”

“So why is he still…?”

“Because it turns out its more than a bit of fun, Mum?” I made an attempt at regaining control of the conversation. “I don’t know what ended up on the Facebook page, but I imagine you could see I wasn’t exactly under duress.”

“I did notice that, yes.”

“I’m guessing Dad didn’t take it so well?”

“He’s not sure what to make of it. I mean you know how he is. It’s why he’s pretending to be asleep at the moment. I don’t think he knows what to say to you.”

“Yes, well… I’m not sure I know what to say to him either. Look, I really do have to get to work…”

“You’re going dressed like that?”

“Yes Mum.”

“Well… you be careful. There are some unpleasant people about.”

“I know Mum, like the git who nicked my clothes and chucked them in the pond.”

“There’s a lot worse than that, dear.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,” Mia said from over my shoulder.

“I’d be grateful, dear. So will you be coming when he gets round to visiting?”

“That rather depends on whether he asks me.”

“I hope he does. I’d rather like a bit of female company, and you’ll be a welcome calming influence on his father.”

“How much female company would you like, Mother?” I asked, playing piggy in the middle once again.

She gave me an indulgent smile, the sort only a mother can give. “By all means come as you are dear, or something like. I suspect your father won’t be too pleased, and I’m sure the neighbours will have something to say, but you do you. I think that’s the modern idiom, isn’t it?”

I shook my head, thoroughly bewildered. “Mum, I have to go.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Text me first, I’m not letting Mark Zuckerberg spy on me.”

“Goodbye dear. Oh! No, wait! I suppose you’ll have changed your name, won’t you?”

“I like Ella, Mum. I hope that’s okay.”

“Isabel was on my list if you’d been a girl, so I suppose I could live with that. Assuming you’ve decided you’re going to be one that is.”

“Goodbye Mum. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I like her,” Mia said as I closed the connection. “You never told me your mum was so cool.”

“I don’t think I ever realised she was before. That was a surprise.” I flipped the switch on the wall, denying my newest acquisition the current on which it fed. Like I told my Mum, I didn’t want anything spying on me.

The Boxing Day Bash, as Chris called it, wasn’t as well attended as the Christmas Eve Event, and the clientele were a little less rowdy. That being said, I was the only one in a skirt – and a short one at that – which meant I was the one who ended up with more hands groping my arse by quite a long way.

It was an odd feeling. Since I’d hit puberty I’d had almost no physical contact with anyone. My parents had backed off because they felt that’s what you did when your little boy grew up and, apart from a brief hug from my mum and a firm handshake from dad every time I arrived and left on my occasional visits, I’d had pretty much no intimate contact with anyone in years.

Of course, that had change radically over the previous couple of days with Mia’s attention but I welcomed that. I wasn’t used to so many strangers taking liberties and I kind of over-reacted at first, jumping every time some old letch’s hand settled on my rear or someone gave me a sneaky pinch, and that, of course, encouraged more people to join in.

A part of me felt outraged that anyone – and more like everyone – should feel they could take such liberties with sensitive parts of my anatomy. Another part of me felt a sense of validation at the extra attention I was getting and, since it was also good for business, I let that part of me win.

It wouldn’t have been right to make it easy for them though, so I acted outraged and scolded often enough, but I also made sure they knew I wasn't being sexual harassment serious and occasional offered the dirty old men an opportunity or two to satisfy their itchy fingers.

Mia didn’t seem to know how to react. On occasions she’d butt in with a good natured, “Please don’t squeeze the merchandise,” to which the perpetrator would most often point at Chris’s framed poster. At other times she'd respond with a slightly more threatening, “Hands off, she’s mine.”

That one had me going. For one, I felt my insides go all gooey at her choice of pronoun. For another, I felt my insides go all gooier at her evident interest in me.

“Does it bother you?” I asked in a quiet moment.

She shrugged. “Not if it means I get groped less.”

But there had been a slight edge to her voice, so I backed off.

Which she noticed and that won me a smile that really melted my insides.

We closed up in the small hours again and filled out purses to bulging with the contents of our tip jars before heading home. Mia invited me back to her place on the pretext that it she didn't feel comfortable with me walking back to mine on my own, and I honestly didn't need much persuasion. Between my aching feet, my freezing legs and the prospect of what my girlfriend was likely to do to me once we made it to her place, I had actually been hoping for an invite.

The days between Christmas and New Year are usually pretty dead for pubs, ours included. With Chris’s okay, we took a couple of days off and found some shops that were trying to beat the January rush for New Year’s sales.

I winced at some of the prices, but I did agree with Mia that this was something I had to invest in if I wanted to look good. It wouldn’t fill my wardrobe anywhere near as much as Mia’s clothes filled hers, but it was a start. We spent over the budget, but even if Chris wasn’t prepared to cover the excess, I had my tip money to spend.

I’m reasonably convinced that some of the things Mia suggested, especially the higher end garments, had more to do with her desire to borrow them than because they looked that good on me.

The last couple of days had me back in mufty, sans breasts and lugging in enough stock to get us through New Year’s.

Ordinarily, I’m not one to celebrate the change of the year, but Chris told us he wanted to be open for all the major celebrations. He even invested some of his recent profits in a large screen TV which replaced the vintage misogynistic poster near the door.

The theme for the New Year’s Party was, ‘Party!” which, whilst singularly unimaginative on Chris’s part, did mean that he didn't need to splash out on costumes for Mia and me and, to be fair, he'd spent quite a lot recently between the TV and my starter clothing allowance. Instead I let my girlfriend have the first pick from my new wardrobe and in the end she chose for both of us.

Since she was choosing from my selection, it meant we both ended up in dresses this time. Both about mid thigh in length, both revealing a fair amount of cleavage, both a riot of bright colours. Chris nodded his approval when we stripped off our coats and stepped back to let us get ready for the evening’s entertainment.

The pub was still decorated for Christmas with the only change being several added sprigs of mistletoe. It was now almost impossible for us to make our way to and from the bar without passing under some, but we worked out a few roundabout routes that allowed us to avoid the amorous attention of our customers and the game of the evening then became serving the drinks while keeping to the safe routes.

Mia had played the game before so somewhat inevitably I was the first to be caught, very nearly dropping my tray of drinks as I was grabbed and kissed full on the mouth.

Once you got past the stubbly chin and the taste of beer, the whole experience wasn’t particularly unpleasant. I felt my body responding in a whole lot of curious ways, including my little fella struggling against his confines. I actually had to sit down for a while afterwards. Not because it had been, “A bit if a knee wobbler,” as my assailant insisted, but because I was struggling with my bits trying to swell up and escape their restraints.

Mia sent me to the loos and completed the delivery of my order then called Chris in to cover for a while so she could help sort me out. This turned out to involve her releasing my little soldier and treating him to a tour of the inside of her mouth.

I tried to protest. I've always felt oral sex to be demeaning to the person giving it so have never wanted to be on the receiving end, but she told me to shut up, asking if I could suggest a quicker and tidier way to sort my problem. She then went on to demonstrate what she meant, leaving me with a true understanding of the term knee wobbler, but at least mini me settled back to sleep and we were able to get on with the rest of the evening.

As time wore on, I became better at avoiding the danger spots and only ended up being kissed once more, and then only because some enterprising individual had brought his own mistletoe.

He was younger than most of our clientele, stronger and better looking too. He'd taken the trouble to shave properly and to suck on a mint before pouncing on me. Tongues were involved and the kiss went on long enough that I ended up having to push him away. Gently though – ‘Enough is enough’ more than, 'Get away from me you creep’ kind of thing.

Mia couldn’t join me in the ladies that time as the party was in full swing, so I had to sort myself out. It didn't take that long, and my heart was still racing as I re-emerged.

I glanced across at the hopeful look on his face and wondered how I was going to break the news to him. I needn’t have worried though since Mia already had a plan in mind. Midnight was bearing down on us, and she told me to stick to the side of the room furthest from my young admirer and leave the rest to her. Thirty seconds before the countdown she said I should head for the large sprig of mistletoe on the customer side of the bar and aim to reach it just as Big Ben sounded out midnight.

Half the dirty old men in the room would be looking to swap saliva with either of us at that moment, so we only had one option open to us.

The chimes began and both of us worked out way through the mobile obstacle course, ducking and diving and arriving in the same place just as midnight sounded.

At which point Mia took a hold of my face and planted her lips on mine, and the whole pub erupted into a cheer. I didn't really care though. This was the best kiss ever and it lasted through the entire ringing out of the hour and well into the fireworks.

By the time she finally let me up for air, my guy had worked loose and the only reason no-one noticed was that Mia pushed me into a chair and sat on my lap. It was uncomfortable, but it kept my secret under wraps until it had settled down enough to keep itself again.

I looked across at the disappointed expression on my young admirer’s face and offered him a look of rueful apology.

Mia shooed me off to the relative safety of the loos to put my bits back into confinement and to repair my lipstick, then I took over from her so she could sort out her own war paint.

People started heading for home around one o’clock. On his way out the door, one of our regulars took it into his head to grab hold of me and give me a proper New Year’s snog, evidently assuming that just having mistletoe somewhere in the room was good enough for a goodnight kiss. Pretty much everyone else agreed with him and Mia and I ended up being passed around like jugs of cider at a hoedown as the majority of the crowd made its exit. Mia was treated to a reasonable amount of attention, but I bore the brunt of it.

By half past one, the number of patrons had dwindled to less than a quarter and my lips were sore from overuse. It was a special occasion though, and in a way a declaration of most people’s acceptance of me as their new barmaid, so I couldn’t complain.

Our work load eased considerably, but I kept to my side of the room until Mia passed me an order and told me to go put a certain young man out of his misery.

I pulled the pint and carried it over to where he sat nursing the dregs of his last one by himself. I put it next to him and offered him the portable card machine to pay for it.

When he realised it was me he kind of rose out of his funk a little.

“I'm glad you came over,” he said. “Thank you. I wanted to apologise for earlier. I should have realised someone as gorgeous as you was spoken for.”

“It's nothing,” I said. A quick glance around showed that I could afford a couple of minutes to talk so I perched on a seat next to him. “In fact I should probably apologise to you. I shouldn't have blanked you like that, but I didn't know how to tell you.”

“That's okay, as long as we're good.”

“We’re good,” I assured him.

“I'm Craig.” He held out a hand which I took, keeping my grip gentle. “I usually work at the Fur and Feathers, but the boss didn't want to open tonight.

“I'd say if you ever change your mind, but I'm guessing you’re not likely to.”

I shook my head and smiled. “No, I have a feeling I’ll be with Mia until she loses interest.”

“And I don't see that happening anytime soon. Thanks for playing along. It was a great kiss.”

“It was. Truly Epic.”

“Well, if things don't work out with, you know,” he waved vaguely in Mia's direction, “come find me.”

“Maybe I will.” I stood up. “Maybe when Mia and I have a night off we’ll come and check out the competition a little.”

“When you do, I'll buy you both a drink.”

“Erm, you do know about me, don't you.”

“You made it fairly obvious that you and your girlfriend are into each other, so sure. It's okay, I'm cool with all that.”

“Er, yes, well...” It seemed a shame to burn the bridges we'd just built. I chickened out telling him the full truth. “I’d, er, I'd better get back to work. Happy New Year Craig.”

“Happy New Year Ella.”

We closed up by three-thirty and Mia insisted on my spending what remained of the night at hers. Chris could have dropped us off, but he's never offered to give either of us a ride in all the time we've been working for him. I didn't care. His selfishness gave Mia and me all the excuse we needed to spend time together.

On the plus side he did give us the rest of the week off. Typical Chris, he didn't tell us till we were stacking the chairs and sweeping the floors, which meant we wouldn't be able to make plans before morning, assuming there was any morning left when we woke up.

We were too tired for anything but sleep. We changed together – I left the girls in place so Mia had something to play with in the morning – brushed teeth together – Mia had kept the brush she'd given me at Christmas – and settled into bed together in an exhausted huddle.

Daylight woke us roughly seven hours later. Mia was the first out of bed with early morning needs and her bouncing off the bed roused me the last bit. I took my turn in the bathroom while she put together a couple of coffees then with caffeine banishing the last of our collective cobwebs we discussed our plans for the following few days.

“I should call my parents and see if they’re up for a visit for a couple of days,” I said. “You’re welcome to come along, but I don’t want to presume.”

“Do you want me to come.”

“Oh yes! Quite apart from wanting you with me, they’ll be a lot more manageable if they have someone else to be polite for.”

“They don’t seem that bad, at least your mum didn’t.”

“Tell me that again after the visit.”

I put in the call and made arrangements to travel up the following day.”

“So plans for the rest of today?” I asked. “We could go back to bed.”

“Tempting as that is, I think we ought to make a start on finding you a new flat. I came across a few adverts for places nearby while I was making the coffee.” She threw across a local paper with three or four blocks of text ringed in pen.

I dialled my phone a few more times, failing to get through to one and making arrangements to view the other three. Two were happy for me to come later in the afternoon and the third said she wouldn’t be available until after the weekend, so I made arrangements for Monday morning.

“We have a couple of hours before the first viewing and it’s only five minutes’ walk from here. Is that why you picked them? Because they’re close to here?”

“And the pub. I won’t deny that came as a bonus, but be my guest and look see if there’s anything else in there you like.”

I scanned through the rest of the adverts. A couple of them were in worse neighbourhoods than mine and most of the rest were either overpriced for my budget – even allowing for my improved income – or too far away. There was one that caught my eye with the same address as my current abode. I didn’t remember any of the other flats in my building going empty. I showed it to Mia.

“Yeah, I spotted that too. Do you think your landlord is advertising your place already?

“If he is, I’d better get over there to make sure he hasn’t cleared me out.”

“Yeah, but that can wait until after we’ve both had a shower. It’ll probably be quicker if we do it together.”

It wasn’t, but it did make the inevitable distraction less messy. At Mia’s suggestion, I wore the dress she’d worn the previous day while she grabbed jeans and sweatshirt from her own hoard. Also at her suggestion, I left my other dress in her apartment until we figured out what was happening at mine.

We made it to my flat about twelve-thirty where the first thing I noticed was that my key didn’t fit the lock anymore. I headed down to my landlord’s flat and pounded on the door.

“Yeah? Wha’ is you want, freak?”

“I’d like to get into my flat,” I said keeping my anger on simmer.

“Yeah, I’s not like your flat no more. I been finkin’ about wha’ you said and I reckon I’m gonna take my chances. You ain’t gonna make trouble for me. You go’ more to lose, ain’tcha?”

“So where’s my stuff?”

“I chucked it when we cleared you ou’ last night.”

I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but this was far from it. I could barely hold back my rage. Fortunately Mia had imagined something like this. She put a restraining hand on my shoulder, her phone already against her ear.

“Hello? Is that the police? Yes, my boyfriend’s landlord has locked him out of his flat and just said he threw away all of his stuff. Yes, as I understand it, he’s taken an exception to my boyfriend since he came out as transgendered last week. He threatened to kick him out then and there, and we agreed that we’d take that as notice and that he’d move out in the middle of January. We both had work last night. We’re barmaids at Holiday’s Inn. We stayed at my home last night and came back here this afternoon. I called you as soon as we found out what was going on here. Yes, thank you. I’ll pass him over.”

I took the phone and answered a few questions. No I’d not received a written notice of eviction, though it looked like my landlord was trying to give it to me now. Gangsta had a piece of paper in his hand which he was thrusting in my face. I refused to take it at first, but relented when the policeman on the phone advised me to do so. It was a notice of eviction, and it was dated the twenty-seventh of December. No, this was the first I’d seen of it.

They said they would send a car, but it would probably take a while. In the meantime, they told me not to do anything I would regret later. They then asked to be passed to the landlord, whose attitude drained away rapidly at what he was told. He hung up and handed the phone back to Mia before leading me to my flat. A shiny new key let us in where we found everything just as I’d left it, including my new wardrobe and my parent’s Christmas present, probably the two things of any value I owned that didn’t follow me around in my pockets or purse.

He left us with a sneer, and I put the kettle on.

It took the police a couple of hours to get there, by which time we had made our way through a couple of cups of tea, booked coach tickets for the following morning to the nearest coach station to my parent’s house and rearranged the viewings on the new flats to later in the day. I also had a flash of inspiration and turned the Portal on, then spent a fair amount of time googling and fiddling with my phone. When the police finally knocked on my door, they had my landlord in tow along with what turned out to be his lawyer.

Mia attested to the fact that the notice of eviction had only been given to me that afternoon, despite the date, and, for my landlord at least, it all went downhill from there. The reason for immediate eviction in the document was unacceptable behaviour which, when he was asked to clarify, he explained by pointing at me and asking how anyone could think that “dat was acceptable.”

The police asked about my possessions. Mia explained that the landlord had said he’d cleared the place out and dumped everything, but when he’d been told to let us into the flat, we’d found everything as I’d left it. I confirmed that nothing was missing as far as I could tell. We showed the policeman the two keys which put further cracks in the thin ice Gangsta was standing on. His lawyer chose that point to distance himself from proceedings by giving notice that he no longer intended to represent him, but would send him a closing balance soon.

In the end, my landlord was instructed to leave my flat alone as further interference would result in criminal prosecution from the police. I in turn was advised to find somewhere else to live as my current landlord evidently didn't want me around any more.

I responded a little coldly, saying I would already be looking at places if I hadn't had to stay back and sort out this mess. If I was a little short with him it was because his attitude suggested he actually agreed with my landlord. He was a professional though and stuck to the official script.

He snapped his notebook shut and left us.

“So, when’s our first viewing?”

“In about an hour and a half, and about thirty minutes walk to get there.”

“So, what should we do while we wait?”

“It sounds like you have an idea.”

“Well, we’ve made love on my couch, in my bed and in my shower. I figure it was time we tried out some of your locations.”

It put a smile on my face for the first time that afternoon. “Sounds like a great idea. I took her hand and led her across to the couch, switching off the Portal as I did so.

“What were you doing with that thing?” she asked as she pushed me down onto the couch.

“Something I remember hearing about those things that might help since I obviously can’t trust my landlord.”

“What, like you don’t trust Mark Suckerberg?”

“A little different. Zuckerberg may or may not be trying to steal my personal data, but if he is, it’ll take him a while to get anything useful. My landlord poses a more immediate threat. He could come back in ten minutes after we leave and do God knows what, and if he does, I want evidence.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the latest app. With the Portal off it showed nothing but a blank screen. “If I leave it on, it acts like a security camera. Anyone comes in while I’m away and I have video evidence.”

“I knew you were more than just a pretty face.”

The next few minutes we were a little too occupied for words. The couch was cramped though, so lying there in the aftermath wasn’t particularly comfortable.

“Mia, would you like to see my bedroom?”

“I don’t really feel like moving.”

“I might have a thing or two in my wardrobe that might offer some enticement.”

She allowed me to lead her into my innermost sanctum, where a subtle amount of bribery with satin and lace woke her libido enough that we managed to christen a second location.

After that, we needed a shower, which we shared and as such were very nearly late leaving for our first appointment. Turning the portal on and linking it to my phone only added a few short breaths to the delay.

The viewings proved to be disappointing. One of them, which I really liked, turned south when we started talking terms. I knew I was going to have to be honest from the outset since it would be my given name rather than my chosen one that appeared on the documents. When I admitted to being other than I seemed, my prospective landlady changed her mind about letting the place to me. Apparently she would have been okay with me having it as a lesbian, but when it came to transgender, she sided with the rabidly anti-trans feminists.

The other flat was not in great condition and offered less space for more money than I was currently paying. I said I’d let the guy know and we left with him saying we shouldn’t think on it too long because he had a lot of interest.

Since my place was closer to the coach station than Mia’s, we stopped at hers to pack her an overnight bag then headed back to mine to sleep. My surveillance systems hadn’t picked up any nefarious activity, but the recorded video had used up a large chunk of my phone’s memory. I skimmed through it to make sure it was clear, then deleted it. I then did a little more research while Mia did her magic in the kitchen. By the time tea was ready, I had both packed my bag and signed up to a thirty day trial of Facebook’s premium security features. While I still didn’t trust it, it would give me enough added functionality to set the Portal to act as a motion activated camera, recording whatever it sensed and sending an alert to my phone. It would cover the remaining time on my tenancy after which I could cancel it.

After a light meal we settled down for an early night. I only had a single bed so I took the squishy sisters off and gave them a much needed sponging down before snuggling down for the night.

Early night meant early morning and we were awake around five, which gave us time to get ready, eat some breakfast and leave with security features active. As a last, low level extra, I stuck a match between the door and the doorframe up near the corner on the hinge side and snapped off most of it. It was out of my normal field of vision and would only drop if the door was opened more than a little.

Mia gave me a look to say I was being paranoid and I gave a shrug to tell her I knew.

The coach driver twitched an eyebrow at me when he checked my ticket, but nothing more was said. The coach ride took a couple of hours which meant we arrived near my parent’s home about eight thirty. I’d texted Dad on the way and, even though he hadn’t responded, he was waiting when we arrived. His greeting held more reserved disapproval than welcome, but he gave Mia a hug and me a stiff handshake before taking her bag – I could manage my own apparently – putting it in the boot of his Audi. I added mine and climbed into the back seat next to Mia.

“Not going to sit up front with your dad?” she asked.

“He always taught me not to go where I wasn’t welcome,” I said loud enough for him to hear.

He barely responded but drove us home without saying another word. I did see his eyes in the rear-view mirror whenever we were stopped at a set of lights, but apart from that, we might as well have not been there.

Mum came out to greet us, hugging us both. “Darling, it’s so good to see you. That is such a lovely dress, and it does suit you. Oh, and you brought Mia. I’m so glad. Don’t mind Bernard. He’ll bring your bags in. Come, I’ve put the kettle on. You must have had such an early start. I’ll bet you’re parched.”

My mum has a tendency to talk in soundbites when she first meets people. It’s kind of funny once you notice, but it settles down after a while.

Dad disappeared into his office, and when he felt he couldn’t hide there any more, he went out and pottered in the garden. He came in long enough to fetch a sandwich and a drink at lunchtime, then took them straight back out to the shed. When the light faded around four o’clock, he gave up on the great outdoors, washed up and settled in front of the TV.

It didn’t bother us. Mum and Mia kept a conversation running through the whole day, allowing me to chip in often enough that I could feel a part of it all. Mia told us about her life and family and Mum and I filled her in on our favourite anecdotes. Mum was as aware as I was that Dad was avoiding everything and, after he came back in, she turned to Mia.

“So, Isabella tells me you’re a bit of a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Nonsense. Why don’t we go see what we can rustle up for tea. You can tell me all those things about my, er, child that you would only say in private. Bella, why don’t you go and keep your father company for a while.”

“It’s just Ella, if you don’t mind Mum, but sure.”

I made my way through to the living room and settled into a chair to one side, smoothing my skirt and sitting quietly. I made sure I was in my dad’s line of sight, but not obtrusively so. He would talk to me when he was ready.

He was watching the news which was its usual mix of doom and gloom. When it got to the sport, he flicked the machine off and sat staring at the blank screen for a long while. I knew better than to say anything at this stage.

“Why?” he asked eventually.

“The short questions always take the longest to answer, Dad. How detailed an answer do you want?”

He waved a hand. “Whatever. I just want to understand.”

I’d had a two hour coach journey to plan this bit. “Do you remember that time Uncle Glen came round? It was years back when I was maybe six or seven.”

“I remember.” It was a vague enough reference, but there was only one particularly memorable visit from Uncle Glen.

“Do you remember what he said? I didn’t understand what he was talking about at the time, but there was something in it that rang true with me.

“He said, ‘I’ve spent all my life feeling like a square peg in a round hole, but today it feels like I fit in the world.”

“He was talking about computers, son. He’d spent all his life looking for a job he could be good at, then he found computers and programming. That was his square hole.”

“I know, but there’s still a parallel. I know you and Mum were worried about me when I was younger. I used to get bullied at school and I was kind of down all the time. You took me to see that doctor once, remember?”

“I do. You wouldn’t talk to him and in the end all he could tell us was that you’d most likely work it out in time. Hah! Your National Health Service at work for you.”

“Except he was kind of right, Dad. I mean this wasn’t really my idea – kind of my boss’s latest attempt to persuade me to quit so he could hire more eye candy for the bar. But it turned out to be kind of an invitation. I’ve had this at the back of my mind for a long time.”

“We know. You used to get into your mother’s clothes when you were young. Neither of us wanted to confront you about it...”

“So you kind of dropped hints all the time. Some actor would appear on TV in drag and you’d say something disapproving. You never let me watch Mrs Doubtfire because it was, what was the word you used?”

“It was obscene.”

“That’s the word, but I’m not sure the film deserves to be called that. Dad, I’ve always been like this...”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have. I just kept it hidden. Jammed my square peg into the round hole because that’s what you wanted. This gave me a chance to try the square hole – my version of Uncle Glen – and it felt like the way he described it. It felt like coming home.”

“It got you into that floozy’s knickers, didn’t it?”

“Mia’s not a floozy, and I’ll thank you to be a little more respectful when you talk about her. As to getting in her knickers, yes, that was an unexpected and added bonus. Even if it hadn’t happened though, it would be enough that it got me into my own.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“I get that, and I’m sorry, but what would you want me to do, Dad? If I found a dream worth chasing and you didn’t like it, would you want me to give it up for your sake, or would you want me to reach for what would make me happy?

“Dad, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to make you unhappy. I know you don’t understand and you’re even angry that I should choose this, but will you at least try to see it from my persepective?”

“You want me to put on a dress?”

“No, that wouldn’t be right for you. You don’t know anything about computers either, but you were happy enough for Uncle Glen.”

“That’s different...”

“Of course it is, but not so much. This makes me happy. This takes away the stress that’s been getting in the way of my enjoying life. You can’t understand how, but can you at least consider that it does?”

“I don’t know if I can, son. I’m an old dog and that feels like a very new trick.”

“And that sounds like an excuse for giving up before you’ve even tried.”

He looked at me, shocked for a moment, then began to chuckle. “You think you can use my words against me?”

“Well, they’re some of the wisest words I was ever taught, so I figured they were worth a shot.” I smiled. “I did pack some of my old clothes, just in case this was too difficult, so if you’d rather I changed...”

He sighed. “No. It wouldn’t change the fact that I’ve seen you looking like this, or that it’s what you choose. I appreciate the gesture, and I suppose since you’re prepared to make an effort, so should I.”

“Thank you Dad. Daddy.”

“No! I’m not ready for that. Baby steps if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. So what’s the next one?”

“I guess I try not to be such a grumpy old man.”

“That might be a stretch.”

“And if you’re going to be a young lady, I’ll expect better from you. I might take that sort of cheek from my son, but not from you.”

“Yes Father. I’m sorry.”

“You really are, aren’t you? Oh well, as I say, baby steps. Now, what measures are you taking to keep yourself safe?”

It wasn’t so much a question as a precursor to a lecture on how dangerous it was to be a young lady alone in the modern world. It included suggestions that I should take self defence classes (he wasn't that impressed when I told him I took Tai Chi) an unexpected gift of a keychain alarm siren along with a complaint to anyone who’d listen – me in this instance – that it was ridiculous that such defensive measures as pepper spray and Tasers were illegal in the UK and how were young women supposed to defend themselves if the law hamstrung them like that?

I didn’t mind. At least he was talking to me again. It would take time, but it seemed I’d be able to talk him round. In the meantime, I assured him that a young woman’s best defence was the safety to be found in numbers, and Mia and I pretty much never went anywhere alone.

We were called into the kitchen for our meal a short while later. Mum’s smile of approval and Mia’s look of mild astonishment suggested they’d spent some of their time together listening in on our conversation.

Food was fantastic, as was only expected from the combined input of both Mia and my mum, and conversation flowed freely enough to stray into a few non-politically correct areas. I’d warned Mia about this though and she smiled and nodded her way through the minefield.

Our early start left us tired and ready for bed well before the witching hour, besides which, there was a lot more to going to bed as a girl, what with all the lotions and stuff. Mum led us upstairs and showed us into a guest room with a double bed.

“I hope you girls don’t mind sharing,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Less washing you understand.” She backed out before either of us could comment.

“Less likely to disturb anybody sneaking about,” Mia said. “I’ll bet the bed creaks.”

I sat on it and bounced lightly. It responded with a loud voice.

“I can go without for a couple of days,” she said, “but you’d better be ready to make it up to me when we get home.”

The following day Mum took us shopping and spent a significant amount of her savings on me, explaining that she had some catching up to do. It meant that I had to make use of one of their old suitcases for the return journey, and none of them had wheels that worked particularly well.

It was a small sacrifice and the additions to my wardrobe were very welcome, although part of Mum’s compensation involved several little girl style party dresses in my size that she’d pre-ordered from what I could only describe as a fetish store. Mia cried from her efforts to hold in the laughter and Mum couldn’t understand why I was blushing so much. I didn’t have the courage to tell her and shelved that particular conversation for a long time in the future.

In the evening we all went out for a meal. Mum insisted that I put on one of my new purchases and Mia tried to persuade me into one of the little girl dresses. I went so far as to put one on for her as long as she put on the other.

When we had both stopped laughing I asked her if we should really wear them for the meal out.

“It would make for kind of an awkward evening, wouldn’t it?”

We changed, both finding something smart and suitable, enough to give Dad an immense grin of pride at ‘chaperoning three such beautiful women’.

I was delighted to see him coming around so quickly, but it was short lived, falling apart on my first visit to the ladies. He was waiting for me when I came out and led me outside for a whispered ‘conversation’ on appropriate behaviour.

“Dad, they have separate stalls with doors that bolt shut. It’s not as if I was sneaking a peak or anything. Would you have preferred for me to use the gents or tell the maître de who and what I was and ask what he thought was most appropriate?”

He saw my point, but he didn’t like it. Mind you I didn’t either. I didn’t mind people knowing I was trans as long as they were okay with it, and I would have happily made use of alternate arrangements to avoid upsetting people.

But that was the thing. It was a contentious issue and one that would find objections no matter what the solution. If I used the gents there would be men who’d object to sharing their facilities with the likes of me. If I used the ladies there would be women who’d say I wasn’t one and so didn’t have the right. If I used any other special facilities, like disabled or staff toilets, there’d be those who’d say I was misappropriating facilities that were needed by particular people. If I had facilities set aside for my specific use, there would be those who’d want to know why I should get special treatment.

The best solution I’ve been able to think of is to suggest that places should have a unisex option available to anyone who doesn’t care. It could act as an overflow when the ladies is oversubscribed, as it so often is, and it could be a place where people like me could go without anyone complaining. I’d happily make use of it rather than risk upsetting anybody else.

Fortunately it didn’t ruin our night out. Dad recovered from the issue, seeing and accepting my point of view, and we didn’t bother anyone else with the details.

The following day Mum and Dad took us back to the coach station together and Dad did his bit of heroics helping us both with our luggage. There were all the regular parting clichés and hugs and kisses from both of them for both of us.

“If I’m going to have to get used to it,” Dad said with a sad little smile. “I can’t help it, I’d have preferred to have a son, but I’ll be happy as long as I have a daughter to be proud of.”

I could have asked him if he was proud of me, working in a bar in a skimpy dress surrounded by a room full of old letches and in a decidedly lesbian relationship with someone of both African and Asian descent, but that wouldn’t have been a productive way to end the visit. Besides, maybe I did need to look at my lifestyle. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with what I was doing and I was making good money at last, but was it something I could be proud of? If I had a daughter, would I be happy with her doing something like this? I’d have to give it some thought.

We settled into the coach and my phone beeped at me. I unlocked it and found myself looking at the front door of my flat where my landlord had just stepped in followed by a couple more guys.

I called nine-nine-nine and kept the phone on hands free. After the obligatory series of questions to identify me, I explained what was going on and gave them the address. I made it clear that it was my landlord gaining access and referred them to the incident number I had from the last time the police came around. If I knew Gangsta Weasel, he’d try to talk his way out of it by saying it was his flat and giving them proof, so they needed the previous incident for context. I watched as the three intruders brought armfuls of my clothes into the main room and dumped them on the floor. They weren't too careful with my things either, treading on them, deliberately tearing some of them. I gave the police woman on the other end of the line a blow-by-blow of what they were doing right up to the point when the patrol arrived at the door.

One of the attending policeman happened to be the same guy who’d come the previous visit – probably by design – which was probably why my landlord didn't protest too much when they made their arrests.

I continued to watch as the police took photographs before locking and leaving the place. There’d be a mess to clear up when I got home.

I thanked the police woman I’d been talking to and gave her the time I expected to be back home. She asked me to come by the police station in the next day or two to make a statement and I assured her I would.

It was a long two hours followed by a frustrating twenty minutes guiding my overfilled and rebellious suitcase back to my flat. I didn’t need the broken match to tell me someone had been in there, but I found myself staring at it and not wanting to go further. I didn’t want to find out which of my recently bought clothes might be part of the destruction.

Mia took the keys from my hand and opened the door, leading the way. She set about picking things up and examining them. What hadn’t been damaged she hung up. What had, she folded into a pile and put it to one side. When I started helping, she pointed me into the kitchen and told me to make some tea. By the time I had a couple of steaming mugs, she’d sorted through most of the debris and declared it not to be as bad as it had first seemed. Most of the clothes they’d ruined were things from my old life, none of which I I intended to use again. There were a few things I'd miss, but with luck I'd be able to claim enough compensation through the courts to replace them. In the meantime, I had enough clothes.

Mia helped me tidy up and then stayed the night. Despite our enforced abstinence over the weekend, I didn't feel much like making love, and she sensed it and just held me.

“You told me something like this might happen,” I said, leaning my head on her breasts.

“You said you thought it would be worthwhile. Do you still think so?”

“You have to deal with rubbish no matter what life you choose.”

“Yes, but this particular piece of rubbish is a direct consequence of your choice, so I'll ask again. Is it worth it?”

“I think so. I mean, I hate that this happens. I feel sick, violated even. It feels like he put his grubby hands on my...”

“He didn’t, and he won’t.”

There was the difference between men and women. A bloke might have just gone, “What, like this?” and stuck his hand between my legs, and I’d have had to laugh along and pretend it was okay. A girl senses when things mattered and reacted accordingly, reassuringly. I tightened my hold on her briefly.

“He did it because he hates what I am. I can’t let him win, and if I let this matter too much, then he will. I’m not doing anything wrong, just different, and if it makes me feel better, surely there has to be good in it. If some people don’t like it then that’s their problem.”

“Maybe yours too a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like with your Dad the other day. He didn’t like it either, but you turned him around. If you could do it for him, you could do it for others.”

“I doubt I could do it for Gangsta.”

“You never know. Maybe you’re right though. Maybe you should at least start off easy.”

“I’m not sure why I should start at all.”

“Do you think people like... Gangsta, did you call him? Do you think people like him will change without a bit of help? Do you think things will get better for people like you and Jamie unless someone like you speaks out?”

“Is that what you want me to do now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I picked up on the edge in her voice and reviewed what I’d just said and how it must have sounded to her.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just lashing out after today. You’ve been careful not to push me into anything, especially since Christmas. I appreciate that and you deserve better than for me to say otherwise.”

It was her turn to squeeze me.

“Can I ask a favour?”

“Of course.”

“I’d like you to come with me to meet my parents.”

“As Ella, I assume.”

“Of course.”

“Kind of a dry run for Jamie?”

“Kind of. I’m hoping you’ll be able to talk to my folks the way you talked to your dad.”

“What if I can’t? What if they end up hating me?”

“It won’t change how I feel about you, and you won’t have to see my parents again. On the plus side, it’ll tell Jamie and me what we need to know about how our parents will react to him should he come out.

“I’m hoping for better though. I really think you’ll be able to sow a few seeds of doubt in their field of prejudice.”

I snorted. “Did you really just say that?”

“A bit much?”

“A bit, but okay, I'll do it. But I can't promise any of my seeds will take root.”

“Sunday lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

Our conversation had reached a lull and we had work the next day.

“You comfortable?” I asked.

“Mmm.”

“Good, ‘cos I don’t think I’m going to move till morning.”

I didn’t, which meant she had to nudge me awake the following morning so she could escape to the loo, after which my own needs kept me awake until she was done, and after I’d dealt with my business I’d spent enough time in the chilly flat that I wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep if I’d wanted to.

Mia had coffees ready by the time I was done with my loo-time, and that settled things. We were up at all together to early in the morning, but that was okay. It gave us time to do a proper job of getting ready for the day, so when we stepped out into the wintry chill, we were so smoking hot it didn’t touch us.

Mia accompanied me to the police station where I made my statement. They asked if I wanted to press charges and I told them I was prepared to waive them if he agreed to cover the cost of the damage he’d caused. I gave them a slightly inflated estimate of what my damages clothes were worth and let them take the proposal to him and his cronies.

The three of them appeared a while later while I was still completing my paperwork. Gangsta came over to me.

“Why ain’t you pressin’ charges?” He asked.

“Would it make any difference if I did? Punishment’s only worthwhile if it helps people see they’re wrong.” That was one of my dad’s. One of my favourites though.

“Maybe I’ll do it again.”

“Maybe you will, but then it’ll be out of my hands. The police will want to prosecute.

“I’ll be gone in a few weeks. You’re bright enough to know it’s not worth the risk.”

“I don’t like you.”

“I know. I’m hoping this will show you I’m not all that bad.”

“I still want you gone.”

“You made that clear, and I wouldn’t want to stay where I’m not welcome. I’ll go as soon as I have somewhere to go.”

“Ain’t no body gonna take you in looking like dat.”

“We’ll see. I take it you agreed to pay for the things you and your friends damaged?”

He pulled out a bill fold and started counting off fifties. He stopped when he reached eight and offered them to me.

“We’d better record this with the desk officer, so they have a record that you paid me.”

He didn’t look too happy about it, but he agreed. The desk officer snatched one of the bills from him and drew a pen across it. It passed muster and he allowed the rest to be passed across and made a note that the debt had been paid. He gave us both a receipt and our business was done.

“How is you knowin’ we wuz in your place?” Gangsta asked as we left the station.

“Why would I tell you? I wouldn’t want to tempt you into trying again and you wouldn’t want to be tempted.”

“Da’s fair. Ayt, I’ outa here.”

“You’d do a lot better if you didn’t pretend all the time, you know? The whole kid from the ghetto does nothing for you. It’s not a great image to adopt and it’s nothing worth aspiring to.”

“’S better than tryin' to be normal.”

“There are better ways of not being normal.”

“Like you, you mean? I wouldn’t look good in no dress man.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Hey, if Gangsta’s what it takes to make you feel right, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Like you could.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I still don’t like you.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

He didn’t reply, but the smile remained.

“See what I mean?” Mia had been waiting outside the police station. “Even your landlord “

“Didn’t you hear him? He still doesn’t like me.”

“I’m telling you. It’s like your superpower. You’re too likable.”

“Except Gangsta doesn’t like me.”

“Have it your way.”

The money needed spending and there were shops around. Mia helped me which meant I’d disposed of half of it by lunchtime, and without replacing any of my guy clothes. I wasn’t sure I had the means to return to who I’d once been, even if I wanted to.

Except for that one change of clothes I’d taken to my parent’s place. Worth keeping for emergencies, but otherwise my future was going to consist of skirts and dresses, floral patterns and bright colours.

Chris was glad to see us back. Apparently he’d mentioned we were going to be away for a couple of days to his regulars and they'd demonstrated their fickle nature by deserting the inn until we were due back. He'd spent a couple of quiet evenings with next to no customers, which he claimed was a pleasant change of pace, but he was ready to make some money again.

“You know,” Mia said with a smug smile, “this sounds like a good time to renegotiate our contract.”

“Hey! We just agreed to new terms, and they're way generous.”

“They are,” I said putting a hand on Mia’s arm, “but you have to admit, she’s not wrong.”

“There’s gratitude for you, and after all I’ve done for you two.”

“We never said we were going to, you twit,” Mia said, but she gave me a look that suggested she’d been considering it.

“Yeah,” I agreed, giving my girlfriend an apologetic shrug. “I mean it’s not business, it’s just personal.”

“Isn’t that meant to be the other way around?” he asked.

“We could make it the other way around if you like,” Mia said.

“But I’m not sure you’d like it.”

“Besides,” Mia chipped in, “exactly what have you done for the two of us?”

“Other than put me in a dress?” I added.

“Do you think you two would be together if I hadn’t?”

“As if that was ever your intention,” Mia scoffed.

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t, but you can’t say nothing good came from it.”

“We’ll give you that one,” I allowed.

“But don’t push it.”

“Okay, fine. Sheesh, what is it with you two? Have your periods synched or something.”

“Ew, gross!” We both said together, then burst out laughing.

“Hey, enough of this. I need you in guy mode. The peace and quiet gave me a chance to do a bit of a stock take and I ordered a few things we’re low on. Delivery’s arriving in half an hour.”

“You could have let me know. I don’t have anything to change into.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah seriously. Do you think I wander around all the time with a set of guy clothes just in case there’s a damsel in distress and a phone booth I can use to turn into my alter ego?”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

I sighed. “Give me a tenner. I’ll go find something in the charity shop.”

“How come I’m still subsidising your wardrobe?”

“Because the alternative is you unload everything yourself. I am not going to get this outfit dirty.”

He rang up no sale and passed me a twenty. “I want change,” he said.

The charity shop had a pair of old dungarees and a sweatshirt that fit me, albeit loosely. The whole lot came in far enough under budget that I was able to add in a pair of bright red canvas shoes in my size. Back at the pub, I changed out of most of my girl gear and into the new duds. They smelled of cheap detergent, but at least they were clean.

The delivery driver made some disapproving comment to Chris about getting a girl to do all his heavy lifting which sent Mia into a fit of giggles. I'd taken the breastplate off as I didn't want to risk getting it damaged, but apparently, between my makeup and my oversized clothes, I still looked more girl than otherwise. The red shoes didn't help.

“I should really have steel toecaps if I'm going to be lugging kegs about the place,” I said when we were done.

“I suppose you expect to pay for those too?”

“Well they are strictly a business expense, so yeah. I'm a size eight and a half.”

He grumbled as he usually did over anything involving money, but relented as he always did over anything involving safety and employment laws.

Customers flooded back over the next few days and we all but made up for the shortfall during our absence, which helped to stop Chris’s grumbling, but it did mean Mia and I were busier than usual. Chris noticed and when the weekend came around he told us to take the Sunday off. It meant we could take our time when we visited Mia’s parents, though she couldn’t decide whether that would be a good thing or bad.

My safety boots arrived on Friday. Chris thought he’d have the last laugh by ordering me a pair of ladies’ Chelsea boots, but it kind of backfired on him because I really liked them. He could have picked me up a plain pair of work shoes from a local hardware supplier for about twenty quid, but instead the added girl fashion more than doubled the cost. Not only that, but he didn’t account for the fact that shoes sizes are slightly different for men and women and my eight and a half men’s needed to be a size eight women’s. Fortunately there was a no quibble return or replacement policy, so they went back with a request for the smaller size.

I spent Saturday night at Mia’s, in part because it gave us more time to get ready, but also largely because Saturday nights tended to end late and neither of us liked the idea of me walking home alone in the small hours.

We helped each other the following morning. Mia showed me how to put her hair in a braid and I did a good enough job on my second attempt that she decided to keep it. My hair was growing but still not long enough for such fancy treatment, so she added a bit of mousse and styled it into a sort of wave. We did each other’s nails, both hands and feet - this time I did a good enough job first time round and it was Mia who messed up and had to redo some of mine. Dresses had been prepicked a day before and hung out of the way on the back of the bedroom door while we fussed about in our underwear.

Oddly, it didn’t feel in the least bit erotic. Instead there was a gentler, more profound feeling involved. I think Mia felt it too, because her smiles and comments were more companionable than flirting.

We were ready by mid morning and stepped out the door soon after

“Will Jamie be there?” I asked.

“He was invited, but cried off. He told Mum and Dad he didn’t fancy being a third wheel, but what he said to me was he didn’t want to get caught up in the fallout when the brown and smelly hit the rotating ventilator.”

“Is that the PG version?”

“No. His actual words.”

“So, how’s this going to go then?”

“I have no clue. I told them I was romantically involved just after Christmas, but I’ve not got round to telling them any of the details.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You are up for this, aren’t you? I mean, it’s not too late to bail if you want to.”

“Thanks, but no. Your mum’s gone to the trouble of cooking so let’s see this through.”

It didn’t help much. I felt I was hosting a group of lepidoptera with ADHD, and I’d almost decided to change my mind – women’s prerogative don’t you know – when we arrived at the front door.

We gave each other a once over, declared each other up to standard, and I took a deep shaky breath as Mia pressed the doorbell.

An attractive middle aged Chinese woman answered the door and broke into a smile on seeing Mia. Hugs were exchanged and she turned to me with a quizzical expression. I looked to Mia who introduced us.

“Ella, this is my mum. Mum, I’d like you to meet Ella, my, er, significant other.”

If I’d thought Mia could do inscrutable, it was nothing to the sudden absence of expression on Mia’s mum’s face. She ushered us in and closed the door, turning on her daughter as the wood settled into its hole.

“You a lesbian now?” Again it was hard to sense how much or even whether she disapproved.

“Not exactly. Er...”

I wasn’t sure if my interference would be welcomed, but this was my secret to reveal. I allowed my voice just enough male timbre to be noticed and said, “I’m not exactly a woman, Mrs Williams.”

“Hai! You a lady-boy?” No real question as to whether or not she approved there.

“What’s going on here?” A deep rich American voice said, and the other half of Mia's heritage appeared in the hallway.”

“Hello Mr Williams,” I said offering a hand. “My name’s Ella. I’m glad to meet you.”

He stared at my hand as though it might bite him, then glanced across at his wife’s troubled face. I’ll give him his due though, he recovered quickly. He took my hand and gave it a tentative shake.

“I’m really sorry to spring this on you, but I hope you can understand, this isn’t a conversation to be had over the phone.”

“I should say not. You could maybe have eased us into it though.”

“I suppose that’s true, except I’m not sure how I’d have done it. Even if I'd worn a shirt and trousers I'd probably still have looked like a girl.”

Mia’s dad twitched an eyebrow, prompting Mia to come to my defence.

“It's true Dad. Ella wore dungarees and a sweatshirt to unload the deliveries yesterday and the driver reemed Chris out for getting a cute little girl to do all the hard work.”

“There's another thing sir. If I had turned up looking like a man and you'd accepted me as such, it would have made it that much harder to tell the truth at a later stage, and that much harder for you and Mrs Williams to trust me when I did get around to it. I'm sorry this has come as such an unwelcome surprise to you, but I don't regret being honest, and I hope you'll give me – give us – a chance to explain.”

“Well, you're here now so I guess we make the best of it. Mia, would you drop your coats on the bed and we can have a chat through here.”

Clearly they were well off. Not many people could afford to live In a bungalow in a place where the land was worth more than the houses built on it. I let Mia take the coats and followed Mr Williams through to the living room, checking to make sure my footwear wasn’t leaving any marks on the hall carpet.

He indicated I should sit, which I did, perching upright on the edge rather than following his example and sprawling back. That’s one thing about skirts, they are a little unforgiving of careless seating practices.

“So, er, you work with Mia,” Mr Williams began.

Yes no questions aren’t the best of conversation starters as it’s hard to respond with more than a monosyllable. I made an effort anyway.

“Yes sir. I started a few weeks before Christmas.”

“And your boss doesn’t mind that you er...” he waved a hand vaguely.

“It was his idea in the first place.” At least we were addressing the elephant in the room.

“Really? And you agreed to it?”

“Yes sir. Before hand I wouldn’t have admitted to it but it’s something that’s always been missing from my life.”

“I don’t understand that.”

“I'm not surprised. It's not something that most men would understand because most men have a sense that it's wrong for a man to put on women's clothes.”

“But you're not most men?”

“Your daughter would agree with you in that assessment sir.”

“Look, can we dispense with the sir business? I get that you want to be respectful, but it's not necessary. Perhaps you can help me understand this.”

“Mia told me you were a psychologist si... Sorry. I thought you'd have studied this topic.”

“Sure, but words in books don't give you a feel for a thing. I mean, I've read the recent studies suggesting a genetic cause but...”

“I haven't heard about those. Would you mind?”

“Sure, I can send you the papers if you don't mind reading scientific reports.”

“Thank you, I'd appreciate that, but for now could you give me the short version?”

“Yeah sure, they showed a correlation between transgender behaviour and the presence of one or more less effective versions of genes used in the uptake of testosterone into the brain.”

“Meaning...”

“That those brains would develop more feminine features, or at least less masculine ones. It doesn't help me understand what goes on in a brain like yours though.”

“It's difficult to say exactly. I mean I'm not sure how the whole genetic thing works, but sometimes it feels like it’s not just my brain that's been affected.”

“You’re talking about your size?”

“In part, I suppose.”

“You're not that small, and did Mia say you were helping to take delivery of stock the other day? Kegs of beer, crates of booze, that sort of thing?”

I nodded.

“Those things are heavy. I'm not sure I know many young women capable of doing something like that.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t help much. I've never felt like I belonged among guys.”

“Never?”

“I was always the weedy runt at school who got picked on, so I didn't have a lot of friends, and the ones I did have were arseholes a lot of the time. I spent most of my time on my own and I suppose I noticed that girls tended to be nicer to each other. I mean not always. There were some real bi... I mean really unpleasant girls, but for the most part, the girls I saw around me had each other’s backs. I kind of felt I was missing out on that.”

“Guys normally have the same thing, you know.”

“Yes, but not in the same way. It felt like the girls could be vulnerable with each other. I tried opening up with the guy I thought was my best friend once, but he kind of got nervous and shut me down. Then next day everyone started making fun of me 'cos he shared what I'd told him with the rest of my year group.”

“Yeah, well I wouldn't have done that.”

“Yeah, well it's not the only way my instincts have been a bit off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Erm, where are Mia and Mrs Williams? I thought they were going to join us.”

“Oh, things to do getting lunch ready I'd guess. Besides, I expect Mia’s mother might have a few words to say after the little surprise you two just pulled.”

“We didn't mean to upset either of you. It's just that...”

“It's okay, relax. I get that, I really do, and Mia’s quite capable of holding her own with her mom. Now what do you mean it wasn't the only time your instincts were off.”

“It's a little embarrassing.”

“And we've only just met, I get it. It's a shame though.”

“I suppose it doesn't matter much any more. I used to have real problems asking girls out.”

“Again, you're not alone there.”

“Maybe not, but it felt like I was. Most of my friends got over their fear, but I never did. They seemed to reach the conclusion that the worst that could happen was they’d be turned down, in which case there were plenty of other fish in the ocean. For me, being turned down was horrible. It was like being told I was worthless and it cut too deep, especially since the girls had learned they needed to be clear when it came to turning a guy down because most guys tend not to pick upon nuance, at least at that age. To me it was unnecessarily harsh and it sent me into a tailspin for days.

“I gave up asking after the first attempt and have been pretty much on my own since then, right up to the point where Mia started showing some interest in me at Christmas.”

“You could always have toughened up.”

“Now I don't get that,” I said. “To me, falling in love is about opening up and being vulnerable with someone. How can you do that if the first thing you do, even before you try talking to her, is put up barriers?”

“You need the barriers to stop yourself getting hurt. Vulnerability can come later, if you hit it off.”

“But you're so much less likely to hit it off if you have the barriers up.”

“So what do you do instead?”

“I don't know. Mia’s the first person I could call my girlfriend, and that’s only because she asked me. I guess I’d have tried to be her friend first and built on that.”

“Oh no. No-one makes it into a deep relationship from the friend zone.”

“Is that a rule?”

“More of a testable fact. Can we talk about the clothes a bit?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you dress up when you were younger?”

“When I was really young, I guess so. My parents thought it was a phase and indulged it for a while. When it didn’t look like I was going to grow out of it they changed their tactics.”

“Meaning...?”

“They took away my dressing up clothes and told me that my behaviour wasn’t appropriate for a boy. I remember staying in my room crying my eyes out for days. I don’t think I ate for a whole week.”

“What happened?”

“Hunger won, and I learned my folks weren’t going to let me get away with anything. I did try asking about the clothes once and my dad told me he’d burned them and that was an end to it. You don’t try asking questions after something like that.”

“I suppose you don’t. What sort of age was that?”

“I'm not really sure. Nine or ten maybe. I kind of buried it after that, with my parents heaping on shovels full of their own dirt any time they thought they saw any hint of it squeezing out.”

“And that was the end of it?”

“Not quite. Every now and again, when I couldn’t cope any more, I’d sneak into my parents’ room and borrow some of my mother's clothes. I thought I got away with it, only my dad told me a few days ago they knew about my habit.”

“Presumably they didn’t know how to confront you at the time.”

“Pretty much.”

“So what changed? What happened recently at Christmas?”

I let out a short huff of a laugh. “That was just one of those unexpected things that worked out for me.”

“Serendipity.”

“You could say so. Chris – my boss – likes to think of himself as an equal opportunities employer. When he employed Mia, it allowed him to tick the ethnic minority box, but it didn’t hurt that she was just the sort of beautiful he wanted behind the bar.”

“I wondered if that might have been the case. She didn't have any bartending experience when she took the job, but she's a quick study.”

“She certainly is. Business had never been better before she started working there, so Chris advertised for more staff. I was the only bloke who applied which meant he had to employ me if he wanted to keep the equal opportunities status, but since the place is very much a man's drinking establishment, he really wanted another girl behind the counter, so he's been trying to come up with ways to make me quit. Christmas was just his latest attempt to get me to go.”

“So how did it turn into... this?”

“Well, as I'm sure you can imagine from what I've said, this has all been simmering under the surface ever since I was a kid. My parents did enough of a number on me that I’d probably never have done anything about it without prompting, but to have the opportunity handed to me like that was too good to be true.

“Chris thought he'd found a way to humiliate me and repeat the humiliation until I gave in, but what he actually did was unlock Pandora’s box, or maybe let the Jeanie out of the bottle – and that would be Jeanie with a jay as in that old sixties sitcom.

“I was terrified at first, but your daughter was very supportive. Once I made it past the fear, I realised how amazingly like coming home the whole thing was.”

“But when Christmas at the pub was over, why didn’t you change back?”

“Someone stole my clothes with my keys in.”

“Oh. So what did you do?”

“I didn’t. Mia invited me back to hers.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“I slept on the couch.” I didn't feel the need to say that Mia had joined me.

“Mia’s old enough to make her own choices. It’s one of the hardest things you do as a parent, letting your kids loose on the world to make their own mistakes.”

“I'm not sure your wife has reached that point. Sorry, I didn't mean to be disrespectful.”

“No, you're right. We both have to work on it, especially when her actions involve someone else.”

“You mean me? Mia's been supportive, but she's also tried to make sure any decisions I make on this front are mine. With or without her, this is a choice I've made.”

“You don't feel you've been influenced in any way?”

“No. There was a point on that Christmas Eve when I realised this was right for me, and it happened while your daughter was nothing more than a work colleague. The girlfriend thing came after, and she's made it clear that this has to be my decision.”

“I'm glad to hear that. She hasn't influenced you in any way?”

“Of course she has, but only to the extent of making it easier for me to make the decisions I wanted to.”

“Would you mind explaining that a bit more?”

I sighed. “I've had this buried for a long time, more than a decade. It would have been too easy to crawl back into my old self after Christmas. Mia let me know it was okay to be this version of me, that she liked me like this. She gave me the choice and this is what I’ve decided.

“There have been some rocks in the road. My landlord isn't happy, so I'm looking for somewhere else to stay, and it did create a little friction with my parents which is slowly being sorted. The good – by which I mean that I finally feel comfortable in my own skin – definitely outweighs the bad.”

“Well, you've certainly given me a lot to think about young ma... I mean young lady?”

“Either is fine. I mean, I'm the one making it awkward for every one, so I should be prepared to do what it takes to make it easier for you.”

“For sure. Well, from the smells coming from the kitchen I imagine lunch is about ready, so we'd better freshen up. Thank you for your candour. I think I understand where you're coming from a lot better now.”

“And you’re okay with Mia and me...”

“As I said, I have to give her space to build her own life. I just wanted to be sure she wasn't bulldozing yours.”

“Definitely not.”

“And as I say, that’s good to know. The bathroom is through there.”

I completed my ablutions as quickly as I could then followed the appetising smells to their source.

The meal looked amazing, but there was a tension in the room that suggested it was very much a secondary concern. Mia’s eyes were red and puffy and her mother’s face held a stony expression that left little doubt as to the disapproval she felt. Even Mr Williams, who had preceded me, looked uncomfortable and uncertain.

I acted on instinct, stepping around the table until I was next to Mrs Williams’ chair, and dropped onto my knees, head bowed.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at me, somewhere between outrage and confusion.

“I don't really know.” Honest had worked for me so far, so I stuck with the winning strategy. “I can sense you are offended, but I don't know what to do about it, other than show that I am ready to make amends.”

“You can start by acting more like a man.”

“I'm not sure I've ever been able to do that. I'm sorry.”

“Get up. You're embarrassing yourself.”

“I can live with embarrassment, but not the shame of causing offense, which was never my intention.”

“Alright, get up.” She couldn’t look at me, but the stony expression had cracked open and whatever lay beneath was at least honest.

I rose and took my place beside Mia. “This all looks and smells amazing,” I said. “I can see where Mia gets her cooking skills.”

“You cooked for him?” Mrs Williams asked her daughter.

Mia didn’t look like she was in a mood to respond.

Mr Williams came to my rescue. “As I understand things, Ella’s clothes were stolen on Christmas Eve, along with, er, her keys.”

“His keys! He is no girl.”

“Whatever. Mia was just being charitable, as we've taught her.”

“You invited him into your home?”

“What was I going to do?” Mia spat back. “Three o’clock in the morning dressed in a short skirt with nowhere to go. How long do you think she would have lasted?”

“He! Why you insist he is a girl, I don't know.”

“She,” Mia insisted on the pronoun, “could have frozen, or been attacked or anything. I suppose you’d have been okay with that.”

“Of course not, but...”

“Actually, dear, I think Mia did the right thing in this instance.”

“David!”

“No, Sue-Lin. Ella, how long did you stay with Mia?”

“She stayed a couple of nights, Dad. The police found his clothes the next day and Chris brought them back to us. He wanted to talk to us at the pub on Boxing Day, so it made sense to hang on an extra day.”

“So, you met our son, James?”

“Yes sir.”

“He met you like this?” Sue-Lin asked.

“Of course. My clothes spent the night in the park fountain. They were too wet to wear.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. What impression did he give you.”

A quick glance around the room provided no help. Mia’s face was as unreadable as her mother’s and Mr Williams could have been a championship poker player for all I could read in his expression.

“I’m not sure I should speak for your son Mr Williams,” I said cautiously. “If you’re concerned about anything, perhaps you should talk to him directly, but I don’t think he’d thank me for speculating on his behalf.”

“So, you think there is cause for concern?”

“That’s not what I said, and you’re too intelligent a person to have made that mistake. I feel like I’m being put on a spot here.”

“What about you, Mia? You’re very quiet all of a sudden.”

“It’s like Ella says, Dad. If you're worried about James, you should talk to him. We came here today to introduce us.”

“Mia, we are worried about your brother,” Sue-Lin placed a hand on her daughter’s arm – by a long way the most affectionate gesture I’d seen. “He won’t talk to us.”

Mia withdrew her hand gently from her mother’s. “That doesn’t come as much of a surprise. You haven’t been particularly open minded today. Ella’s parents handled it better than you.”

“To be fair, Mia, my mum and dad had a day or two to get used to things before talking to me, and my dad couldn’t cope with it until after I had a chat with him. We did kind of spring this surprise on your folks. I think they’ve been pretty reasonable about it.”

“Says the person who felt she had to kneel in front of my mother to ask her forgiveness.”

“I probably overdid that a little.”

“You think?” Sue-Lin said, but she did seem to have the merest hint of a smile dancing gently around the edge of her mouth.

“But I did need to do something, didn’t I? I mean, what would the atmosphere have been like in this room if I hadn’t?”

“Is that why you refuse to pass comment on James? Because of our reaction to you?”

“In part, though I'd also say it's unfair of you to ask. Regardless of the situation, pretty much anything I could say would be a betrayal of trust to James, who I like a great deal, I must say.

“If you’re worried about him, you should talk to him directly, and if, as you say, he won't talk to you, perhaps you need to make some effort to help him feel safe doing so.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know if it's my place to say.”

“Oh no. You don't get to be shy now.”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

“There's a letter a daughter in America is supposed to have sent her parents from college that's been going about the Internet. I don't know if you've come across it.”

“It doesn't ring a bell.”

“I'm probably going to mess it up if I try and paraphrase it. Do you mind if I find it and read it to you? It’s a bit long, but I think it makes the point quite well.”

David waved his assent and Sue-Lin shrugged. Mia’s eyes narrowed just the smallest amount. I dug in my handbag for my phone and then ferreted about on the web for a minute before finding what I was looking for. I cleared my throat.

“Dear Mom and Dad,” I began, deliberately feigning a slight American accent. “It has now been three months since I left for college. I have been remiss in writing this and I am very sorry for my thoughtlessness in not having written before. I will bring you up to date now, but, before you read on, please sit down.

“You are not to read any further unless you are sitting down, okay?

“Well then, I am getting along pretty well now. The skull fracture, and the concussion I got when I jumped out of the window of my dormitory when it caught fire shortly after my arrival, are pretty well healed now. Fortunately, the fire in the dormitory and my jump, were witnessed by an attendant at the gas station near the dorm. He was the one who called the fire department and the ambulance. He also visited me at the hospital, and since I had nowhere to live because of the burned-out dormitory, he was kind enough to invite me to share his apartment with him and his three buddies. It's really a basement room, but it's kind of cute.

“He is a very fine boy and we have fallen deeply in love and are planning to be married. We haven't set the exact date yet, but it will be before my pregnancy begins to show. Yes, Mom and Dad, I am pregnant. I know how much you are looking forward to being grandparents! I know you will welcome the baby and give it the love, devotion and tender care you gave me when I was a child.”

Mr Williams began to laugh quietly, his wife looking across at him as if he had gone mad.

“The reason for the delay in our marriage is that my boyfriend has some minor infection which prevents us from passing our pre-marital blood tests, and I carelessly caught it from him. This will soon clear up with the penicillin injections I am having daily. I know you will welcome him into our family with open arms. He is kind and, although not well educated, he is ambitious. Although he is of a different race and religion than ours, I know your often expressed tolerance will not permit you to be bothered by the fact that his skin colour is different than ours. I am sure you will love him as I do. His family background is good, too, for I am told that his father is an important weapons dealer in the village in Africa from which he came.”

David’s laughter grew with each new revelation. Sue-Lin still didn’t see the joke. Neither, I think, did Mia.

“Now that I have brought you up to date, I want to tell you that there was no dormitory fire, I did not have a concussion or a skull fracture. I was not in the hospital, I am not pregnant and I am not engaged. I do not have syphilis and there is no man (of any colour) in my life.

“However, I got a 'D' in History and an 'F' in Science, and I wanted you to see those marks in the proper perspective.

“Your Loving Daughter...”

“I'm sorry everybody,” David said. “I caught the gist of where that was going and I couldn't help myself. That's a great piece; would you mind sending it to me?”

“Of course.”

“Is that what this is about? After today with you, whatever James has to tell us can't be so bad?”

“No Mr Williams. Today is about Mia and me. The point of the story was to show that we tend to be more judgemental when we’re in our comfort zone and more sympathetic when we think something is horribly wrong. If you want James to be open with you, you have to find a way to convince him that your response will be supportive rather than critical.

“Mr Williams, what you told me about the hardest part of having children this age. If you meant what you said, then you have to be prepared to listen, to accept that just because they believe something different from you doesn’t mean they are wrong. You have to be prepared to be wrong yourself.

“I mean sure, there is a line you don’t cross. I wouldn’t expect you to condone anything that was against the law, but unless you and your wife are prepared to listen and not to react in a way like you reacted to Mia and myself today, then you’re not likely to convince anybody to share what’s troubling them.”

“Do you think something’s troubling James?” It was Sue-Lin asking and there was genuine concern.

I relented a little. “There were times I felt a shadow pressing down on him. I don’t feel I have a right to speak for him any further. I’m not sure I really had the right to go that far.”

“How could we show him we’re not going to bite his head off?”

“Actions speak when words don’t. You could practice on us if you like.”

She stood and addressed me across the table. “I would like Ella to help me clear up,” she said.

I still couldn’t read her expression, but both Mia and her father showed more than a little surprise. Caution was merited, but this wasn’t something I could ignore. I stood as well and bowed a little. “I would be pleased to,” I responded and started gathering empties from around the table.

David and Mia retreated to the living room while I followed Mia’s mother into her domain and started rinsing the plates in the kitchen sink.

Sue-Lin put her own burden down then turned me to face her.

“In my culture, it is proper for a man to behave like a man and for a woman to behave like a woman. Those who do otherwise bring shame.”

I hung my head slightly, hopefully showing respect. “Perhaps you could explain to me the story of Mulan.’

She laughed. “Mulan is a made up story, and certainly not the same as the Disney film.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I don’t think Disney has ever told a story without changing it to their liking. But fictional or not, surely its intent is to challenge tradition.”

“Tradition should be respected.”

“With respect, Mrs Williams, but why?”

Her mouth fell open in genuine shock. This could go horribly wrong if I didn’t find a way to rescue it.

“Tradition teaches us the wisdom of our ancestors; it certainly deserves that we should consider it, and perhaps accept it in most cases, but the world changes, people change, understanding changes. True knowledge is often obscure and may be overlooked for centuries. Traditions may also be set by individuals who seek control and power rather than wisdom. It is essential that we challenge our traditions from time to time. Just because we are taught that they are the wisdom of our ancestors, doesn’t mean that they are never wrong, and sometimes they need to be changed.

“Was there not once a custom, perhaps a tradition, to break and bind the feet of young girls? Do you believe that it was wrong to challenge this custom?”

“You twist words like an evil serpent squirming in the dark. You seek to justify your dishonour, but you cannot.”

“Mrs Williams, I do not mean disrespect. I wish only to ask that you consider another...”

“Enough! I have said that which I have to say. I will ask you to leave now.”

“As you wish.” I bowed again for what it was worth and walked out through the dining room to the living room where two hopeful faces looked up at me.

“I believe I have outstayed my welcome,” I said sadly.

Mia stood. “I guess we should leave then,” she said.

“No, you should stay and spend time with your parents.”

Mia looked past me where her mother stood with folded arms. “No. If you’re not welcome then neither am I. Mother, if you are shamed by Ella’s presence, then you must be shamed by mine. Dad, it was great catching up, if only very briefly.” She swept past me and gathered our coats from her parents’ bedroom.

I took mine and bowed again to Sue-Lin. “Thank you again for a lovely lunch. I’m sorry I offend you. I wish it were otherwise.” I held out a hand to David, which he took, apologising with his eyes. “It was a pleasure meeting you Mr Williams.”

“You too, Ella. You’ve given me a great deal to think about.”

I gave him a sad smile. I’d probably also lined him up for a long and heated discussion with his wife and an uncomfortable night or two on the couch, such were the perils of cross culture marriages, although he probably had a fair amount of experience navigating such rocky shallows .

We exchanged our various tales of woe, Mia’s encounter with her mother before lunch being not dissimilar to my own, and her conversation with her dad being about as positive.

It was late enough in the afternoon for the shops to be closed, so Mia insisted I come back to hers for tea. Since I had that delayed viewing nearby the following morning, she also suggested it made sense for me to stay over. I wasn’t about to complain.

Jamie was waiting when we reached Mia’s, by which I mean Jamie in full girl mode. It made sense. News loves company, whether it’s good news demanding celebration or bad requiring commiseration. Mia backed into the kitchen to sort out eats and drinks, which left me to pass on the largely bad news. Jamie took it stoically enough since she hadn’t expected even her father’s support, but she wasn’t overly pleased when I told her what I'd said about the shadow she was under. She did agree they’d not left me with much option, but that wasn't a great comfort.

“So what do I do now?” She asked. “I am right royally screwed.”

The question had been intended retorically but it begged a response even so.

“You could talk to your dad at least. If he knew where you were coming from, he could help without involving your mum.”

“He's never been able to keep a secret from her, and what would happen when he let it slip?”

“Yeah, not good. Well I guess the best you can do is chip away gently at your mum's traditional beliefs until she begins to see a bit of truth.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“My parents had a fairly strict Methodist upbringing. They grew up believing that the Bible was beyond question, and they always used to quote bits of it whenever I went a bit wayward. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child' was one of Dad’s favourites, along with ‘children obey your parents’ and 'honour your father and mother.’ Mum preferred ‘a fool rejects his father’s discipline’ and 'a foolish son is a grief to his father and bitterness to her who bore him.’

“You can't really fight against it. Their fall-back defensive position was, 'the Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it,’ at which point all avenues of rational discussion are closed.”

“My mum’s not a Christian.”

“No, but dogma is dogma. There is no argument against it, almost by definition. Your mother's belief in her traditional values isn't that different from my parents’ unquestioning belief in their scripture.”

“What did you do about it?”

“I left home, which is why I've been wandering aimlessly for the last few years, why I'm working in a bar rather than learning to become something responsible like a lawyer or an accountant – my dad was an accountant before he retired.

“It doesn't solve the problem though, you just get the Bible verses in your birthday and Christmas cards and all sorts of mini preaches when you talk to them on the phone.

“So a few years back I started fighting fire with fire. I spent a bit of time going through the Bible. Whenever dad used his 'honour your father and mother’ bit, I'd respond with ‘fathers, do not provoke your children’ which is incidentally in the next verse.

“He didn't like it much, but he couldn’t argue with it because the Bible says it, I believe it, etcetera.”

Jamie smiled for the first time that afternoon.

“I dug deeper into the ‘Good Book’,” yeah, I did the finger quotes thing, “and started using more obscure verses. “’Anyone who curses their father and mother is to be put to death.’ I’ve been angry enough to do that before now. Why don't you get some rocks together for my next visit? I could go on and on, there are so many verses that are unacceptable by modern standards.

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn’t trying to undermine their faith, just chipping away at the rigidity of their thought processes until they were prepared to question the fundamental error, that the Bible was not the unquestionable Word of God, nor had it ever been intended as such.

“Any dogma is just an excuse for abdicating from the harsh reality of having to think for yourself. It’s self-sustaining because part of any dogma is don’t question the dogma, and it works because the people who live by it cherry pick the parts of it they like most and ignore the rest. The only way to fight it is to shine a light on the mistakes and wait until it finally sinks in that if part of it is wrong then the whole lot of it should come into question.

“My folks finally reached that point about a year ago. They still have a default setting that points them back to the Bible, but they actually question what they read now, which means they're prepared to accept even this.” I did a twirl, enjoying the way my skirt flared out.

“Food for thought,” Mia said from the kitchen door, “and this is the other kind of food.” She handed us plates, pausing long enough to give me a kiss and a grateful smile.

Jamie changed and left shortly after tea leaving Mia and me with a whole evening to explore each other.

Next morning meant another smart outfit ready for my viewing and inevitable vetting. The flat was a little larger than my current one by a few square feet, much better decorated and furnished, and about the same price. It was owned by an elderly lady who greeted as with warmth.

“Are you two together?” she asked with the bluntness of old age.

“We are,” I said, “but it's not quite what it seems. You see I’m, er, not really all girl.”

“Well you certainly look it to me.”

“I hope that's not going to cause a problem.”

“Why should it?”

“I don't think that it should, but my current landlord has asked me to leave because of it.”

“Then he's a fool, isn't he? I find that girls look after rental properties much better than boys, and I’d be delighted to have you stay.”

“Well, if that's the case, where do I sign?”

And like that I had a new place. Closer to work, close to Mia’s and very much nicer in general. True to my landlady’s last comment, it was decorated to please a young woman's tastes more than those of a man.

Mia and I didn’t waste time, but spent the rest of the morning moving my stuff across. With my old place empty, we took the time to give it a thorough clean, then I knocked on Gangsta’s door.

“Aight?” he greeted me. I wasn’t going to miss this one bit.

“You can have your keys back as soon as I have my deposit,” I told him.

He walked me back to the flat and gave it his version of a thorough inspection.

“Looks okay,” he said pulling a bankroll out of his jeans and counting off twenties. “So dat’s four hundred quid, yeah?”

“Five hundred.”

“You sure?”

I showed him the contract and he counted out an extra five banknotes.

“Do you have your version of the contract?” I asked him.

“Yeah, it’s in my fla’ innit.”

“If you fetch it, I’ll sign to say I’ve agreed to terminate early. You know, in case the police decide to check up.”

“Ya okay.”

I signed and handed him the paper along with my – well his – keys. He looked it over as I turned away.

“I still don’t like you, skank,” he called after me.

“The feeling’s mutual, gangsta.”

“Wot you call me?”

“Gangsta. It's not as bad as what you've been calling me.”

“Trudat. I kinda like it.”

“You’re Welcome to it.”

“See you around, skank.”

“I suppose we might both be that unlucky.”

Mia and I walked out of the building chased by way to much laughter given the joke.

Things settled down for a while after that. We alternated entertaining at each others flats and Mia taught me to be at least competent in the kitchen. Jamie was a regular guest with both of us whenever we had time off, and she kept a small stash of her clothes with both of us. We’d have been happy to loan her things, but we both knew there was nothing quite like having your own things.

Mia and I learned to give each other space, though I guess it was me more Mia that needed the learning. My first real relationship and I was desperate to keep the momentum going, terrified that if I couldn’t, things would fall apart. The first time Mia suggested we take a day off from each other, and it felt like the world was about to end, but then we met up the next day and nothing had changed except the feeling of tension between us that I hadn't even noticed was there.

At first I spent those days indoors, practicing putting on my makeup, trying out different combinations of clothes and accessories, shopping online, training my voice.

That last was a major one. I knew guys pretending to be girls had a tendency to do into falsetto and sound like something from Monty Python. You know, 'He's not the Messiah. He’s a...’ well you can look up the rest if you want to.

Actually, what follows from that particular line in the film is a great piece of irony related to individuality, something I was in an ideal place to appreciate since I’d begun exploring the full extent of my personal individuality.

But I digress. I had no idea where to start with my voice so, of course, I turned to the internet.

Probably the hardest things about living in the modern age is separating the real stuff from the rubbish. There are billions of people connected to each other through the digital ether, and everyone has an opinion to share. Unfortunately, most of what goes out there has as much basis in reality as a Donald Trump campaign speech, so finding something worth reading is becoming progressively harder.

On the plus side, when it comes to changing your voice, the better online tutorials show quite easily what works and what doesn’t.

It doesn’t mean that learning is easy, but it didn’t take many sessions before my husky femme fatale, which I’d found was part of what turned Mia on, turned into a genuinely more female voice.

I sounded ridiculous at first, but I’d been told to expect that. When it started sounding and feeling more natural, I tried it out on Mia and Jamie, to somewhat gratifying effect.

Jamie’s jaw quite literally dropped open. It’s one of those cliché sayings, but when it actually happens, it grabs your attention.

In my case it did so to the extent that I missed Mia bearing down on me.

“You’re in charge of the kitchen little sis.” Have I mentioned that Mia was the older twin? “We’ll be back in... oh give us half an hour.”

She dragged me through to the bedroom and pushed me, back first, onto the bed before straddling me.

“Speak to me,” she demanded, making her voice low and demanding.

“What would you like me to say?” I asked. I hadn’t deliberately dropped my new voice, so I naturally continued with my girly voice.

“Anything.” Mia started unbuttoning my blouse. “Just keep speaking like that.”

“Mia, are you alright?”

The noise she made in response was barely human and contained no words. Her attention to my blouse became more frenzied and more clumsy.

“Let me do that,” I said, beginning to fear for my clothing. “The skirt only has a zip. I’m sure you can manage that.”

She turned her attention to the side zip on my skirt and just about managed to slide it down by the time I’d undone the remaining buttons on my blouse. The next focus of her attention was my tights and knickers, which she attempted to remove with her teeth.

“Mia?”

Teeth were taking too long. She grabbed them with both hands and pulled them down to my ankles.

My body had been responding to her attention with a gargantuan effort to redistribute a significant portion of my available blood. Certainly I’d never seen my little soldier standing so firmly to attention.

“I think I might faint,” I said, feeling not a little light headed.

“Don’t you dare,” Mia growled as she wrestled with her jeans and underwear.

“You know that would be easier if you wore a skirt every now and then.” It was a minor niggle since she’d taken to wearing jeans and trousers much of the time. As a I say, it was a minor niggle. I was limited to skirts and dresses in order to hide my unsightly bulge and I knew first hand just how much a sacrifice it was to be limited to even two hundred denier tights in January.

She growled again. It came out low and feral, with a hint of success as she managed to remove her final obstacles and plant herself with some force on top of me. “Speak to me like a girl,” she murmured as she impaled herself on me.

“Take me,” I said. “I want you inside me.” Not exactly original or even practical, but it had an alarming effect. She started bouncing on me in a way that roused me to even greater heights. What followed from my lips were series of squeaks and squeals that seemed to be just the encouragement both of us needed. We didn’t last anywhere near the thirty minutes, but we both reached an explosive conclusion about the same time.

She rolled off me and I snuggled under her arm.

“We didn’t use any protection,” I said.

“Don’t ruin the moment, woman,” she panted. “Besides, I started on the pill about a week back. We’re safe now. I was going to surprise you tonight, but you kind of beat me to it. Are you ready to go again?”

“You have to be joking! Ask me again in an hour.”

“Actually, I was thinking about what you said a few minutes ago. I mean it’s not the same, but...” she reached over into her bedside cabinet and brought out something I thought had to have come from the same place my mum bought those little girl party dresses. It wasn’t immense, but it was pretty much her skin tone.”

“Seriously?”

“Only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do.”

It felt a lot like our first night. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to miss out either. “Do I have to lay on my front? Because I think it might be a little uncomfortable with the girls.”

“I think we can do it face to face,” she said, “but we’ll need to make sure you’re lubed up, and first time it might be as well if you sit on me.”

So, a couple of very cold, k-y slathered fingers later, Mia lay back on the bed with her appendage securely strapped in place and I shifted about until I felt it lined up and ready to go spelunking. I settled down gingerly, biting my lip at the initial discomfort, but pressing down until she was all the way in side me, then she began a slow rhythmic movement which very slowly filled me with a tingling sensation that passed through me in waves. My little chap remained limp and listless throughout, but I didn’t need him because this was wholly different from anything I had experienced before. It had me squealing and gasping and kept going on and on until I could barely hold myself upright. It may well have used up the balance of our half hour. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

Mia left me for the shower and I lay still, gasping gently with the warm, glowing aftermath of our experience still flooding through me like a gentle tide.

Mia returned and slipped into a short dress and not much else. “I’ll call you fifteen minutes before we’re ready to serve. Don’t lose the girl voice.”

“Okay,” I breathed, but the undertones were still at the higher feminine pitch I’d worked so hard to acquire.

I didn’t quite fall asleep, but I needed all of the fifteen minute warning to make myself even half presentable. I arrived at the table to find Jamie still with his jaw hanging open a little.

“You’re glowing,” he said.

“I’m not surprised,” I replied treating Mia to a million watt smile.

“How do you do it?”

“I think you have to have amazing sex, and it just comes.”

“Oh, Ew! TMA! That is my sister you just been humping, you know?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me doing the humping.”

“No! No, no, no! La la la. I am not listening to this “

“You shouldn’t have asked then.”

“I was asking about the voice!”

“Oh, sorry. Okay, sure. It takes a bit of time to get there, but anyone can do it. I’ve been working on it for a couple of weeks now.”

“Can you show me?”

“Of course. I can show you the YouTube videos I used...”

“No. I mean can you show me.” Emphasis on the pronouns.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I’m not sure I’ll do as good a job as the videos...”

“I don’t learn well from YouTube, but I would love to sound half so good.”

“Fine. You’ll need to work on it every day. I don’t know how you're set in the mornings. I have some afternoons free, but you know I can’t do evenings.”

“Mornings is good. How about before I go off to work?”

“You’re talking, what, eight o’clockish?”

“About then, yeah.”

It would be tough after ending a shift in the wee hours, but Monday through Thursday wasn’t usually that bad, and I could go back to bed after.

“I’ll bring you a coffee from that place down the road.”

“Sounds like fair payment.”

We agreed to start the following day. Mia and I had a shift at the inn that evening, so Jamie shifted back to guy mode and sloped off shortly after we’d eaten. We didn’t really have time for much before heading out ourselves, but Mia decided Chris could go hang himself for once and I got to play doctor to Mia’s nurse one time before we headed out.

I should mention it was a doctor in a dress, though you probably guessed that anyway.

Eightish turned out to be too early the next morning to be woken by my doorbell. Chris and Mia had taken turns sharing news of my voice upgrade around the pub and everyone had wanted to watch the monkey perform. It meant we were later closing than was normal for a weekday, which in turn meant that tidying up and walking home all happened later. I’d dropped Mia back at her place about one-thirty and had made it through my front door ten minutes later.

Change, cleanse, moisturise, brush teeth, all added at least twenty minutes, so it was past two when my head finally hit the pillow. I dropped off quickly enough, but six hours in Morpheus’ arms was only enough to return me to the world in zombie form.

I pulled a dressing gown over my nightdress and stumbled to the door, fully aware of the mess my hair was in.

James stood there, dressed the smart casual his work allowed and offered me one of two paper cups.

“Brains?” I said, pitching my voice into the feminine.

“I don’t think so, but I could ask tomorrow if you like. Caffeine certainly.”

I took the offering and sucked at it. Definitely caffeine. I stood to one side and invited him in.

“Would you like to change before we get started?”

“I’m not sure how much that will encroach on our time. Let’s try without first.”

So we settled on my couch and we worked on tightening up his pharyngeal wall, or whatever the technical term was. I just knew what had worked for me and told him how to achieve the same.

As expected, his first attempts were more comical than encouraging. I managed to bite back the smile and reassure him that my own first efforts had been as bad and that he'd get there in the end.

He left not looking altogether convinced, but I had more sleep to catch up on, so took my weary carcass back to bed.

Evidence of my wickedness and its associated lack of rest caught up with me less than half an hour later when my girlfriend caught up with me, brandishing a second cup of coffee and wanting to know how her brother’s first session had gone.

By the time I had satisfied her curiosity, the morning was well on its way towards ending and, when Chris then called, I gave up on catching up on lost sleep.

As it turned out, his call was not unwelcome. He wanted me in to help with unloading a shipment in the afternoon, but he also wanted to talk to us about work schedules, so Mia followed me in for my afternoon stint.

He'd noticed that, in the absence of any seasonal incentive, or midweek numbers were down and he wanted to offer us one night off each week – without pay of course. Perks of a zero hours contract.

Except, since we were now taking home a percentage of the profits, any night one of us wasn’t working meant the night’s profits would be higher, so our cut would be too. In effect it would work out as a night off on reduced wages, which was the best possible outcome for us.

We didn’t tell him, of course. He was too happy at having found a way to save money, it would have ruined his mood to remind him some of the money he was saving was ours.

He asked if we’d be okay with one of us taking Tuesday night off and the other Thursday. For some reason there was a slight mid week resurgence which meant that we’d both be needed on the Wednesday. We agreed and, since I was already knackered and due to do some heavy lifting that afternoon, I magnanimously offered to take that evening off.

I did finally get back to bed later in the afternoon, but that just meant that come evening I was all revved up with nowhere to go.

Going to the Inn was a no-no. For one, how sad would that be, that I chose to spend my one night off per week at my place of work. For another, I’d probably just get roped into working and Chris would wangle out of paying my wage.

Instead, I freshened up and went for a walk around the neighbourhood. Nights were getting longer, but sunset was still pretty early, and the weather was typical January cold. Staying upright in heels when there’s ice about is a challenge, and the cold was finding its way into places I’d rather it wouldn’t, so when I found myself walking past the fur and feathers, it seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.

Craig was busy behind the bar, but his eyes lit up at the sight of me. I found a stool nearby and settled down to wait.

Not for long as it happened. He deliberately served me next, ignoring a string of objections, which sort of faded as the objectors noticed me.

“Vodka and orange, please,” I said in my new voice.

He set about making my order. “You sound different.”

This was a bullet best bitten sooner rather than later. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it, trying to sound less, you know, like a bloke.”

He faltered in his pouring, but recovered quickly enough. “You’re a...”

“Bloke, yeah. I tried to tell you at New Year’s, but I kind of chickened out. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I guess I knew.”

“You did?”

“Sure. You don’t think Chris pulled that stunt at Christmas without telling everyone, do you?”

“I guess not.” I hunted in my purse for some cash.

“it's on me,” he said. “I told you I'd buy you a drink.”

“Thank you. This doesn't bother you?”

“If I’d been able to swing the time off, I’d have probably come down and given you grief on Christmas Eve. I’m kind of glad I couldn’t because, you know, you really owned it that night; became something of a local legend.

“Then at New Year's I had my chance to come see for myself what all the fuss was about. When I saw you for the first time, I guess I couldn't actually believe you weren’t a girl, so it's on me. I still can't believe you're anything but a girl now, especially with the voice.”

“So, would you?”

“Not a chance.” He watched my face fall for a moment then grinned. “I wouldn't want to get on Mia's bad side.”

“I suppose not.”

“You should probably watch out though. Not everyone's so open minded around here.”

“Thanks, I'll bear that in mind.”

“I should get back to the rest of my customers before I get the sack.”

“Yes. Thank you.” I raised my glass. “For the drink.”

I didn't stay long after that. For one thing, I'd done and said all I’d intended to do and say. For another, I started getting hit on, which could have been fun except that none of my would be suiters knew how to deal with rejection. For yet another, Craig's words hit home and I really didn't want to encounter anybody with strong objections to me lifestyle choice.

I thought about calling a taxi, but home wasn’t that far and I had better thoughts in mind for spending my hard-earned cash. Besides, despite the cold and the pain in my feet, I really did enjoy being outside and dresses up. Probably no more than any young woman confident in her ability to turn heads, but with no means of making the comparison it wasn’t something I was likely to find out.

The large majority of the walk home was both enjoyable and without incident, but then it was also through well lit and we’ll populated neighbourhoods. The closer I came to my home, the fewer and further apart the street lamps became, and the scarcer the fellow pedestrians.

There was one short stretch, less than a hundred yards from my front door, where an short alley provided a shortcut between streets. I could have avoided it and added both time and distance to my journey, but both the cold and my pinched toes persuaded me to take the shortest route. I was halfway towards the weak light of a streetlamp when someone stepped out of the shadows in front of me. I turned and found two more barring my retreat.

I swore and kept moving towards the chap in front of me. He was larger than me – which isn’t saying much – and moved back and forth leaving me in no doubt as to his intentions.

I paused again with him just a few yards away. From the sound of it, the two behind me had caught up too. Again not surprising as my heels made taking long strides both difficult and hazardous.

“I don’t suppose we could not do this?” I asked. “This is a silk blouse and I understand it’s a real pain removing blood stains.”

Even in the gloom I could make out enough malice in the guy’s expression not to expect a response. He took another pace nearer and I stepped out of my shoes, wincing at the icy pavement beneath my stocking clad feet. Traction wasn’t great, but that would likely be a disadvantage to both sides.

I took up a tai chi stance and waited. I’m not sure if my would be assailant recognised what I was doing, but he did laugh, just before he attacked.

I'm not sure which of us was more surprised by what happened next. I accelerated into my well practiced tai chi forms, blocking his wild haymakers and striking him with a well rooted shove that overbalanced him and put him on his gluteus so quickly that his companions didn't have a chance to react.

I was already stooped low enough so it took just a moment to grab my shoes – I mean they weren't cheap. I dashed past my prone opponent and ran.

Footfalls chased after me in the darkness, but I knew better than to look back. I was already sprinting as fast as I could, so they would either catch me or they wouldn’t. I grabbed for the rape alarm keychain my dad had given me and yanked at it, filling the night with an intense, high-pitched wail.

I had my key out as I approached the front door to my flat. Of all the times to get it right, this was the one. It went straight in and turned and I was through the door and closing it before I realised my chasers had given up.

I turned off the alarm, dropped my bag and shoes and turned my attention to my feet. Aside from the cold, they were fine, but that was more than I could say for the tights. Winter weight they might have been, but they hadn't been designed for a hundred yards sprint across rough pavement, and the experience has turn them to shreds.

A gentle knock on the door sounded along with a tremulous, 'Are you alright, dear?’ I opened up enough to reassure my landlady that I was. She was all for calling the police, but there wouldn't be much they could do. My attackers were long gone and it had been dark enough that I wouldn't have been able to identify any of them. I assured her I'd go into the station the following day to make a report, but all I really wanted right now was a hot shower.

Once I was warm again the shock began to settle, depriving me of my capacity for sleep. I settled down with a mug of hot chocolate and reran the encounter over and over in my mind, trying to pull any last detail from my memories.

I finally nodded off around three in the morning and woke to the sound of my doorbell a few hours later.

“You look terrible,” James said to me.

“Voice,” I said using mine.

“I sound stupid.”

“So did I.” I squeezed my own vocal cords into the shapeI'd imposed on them in my early efforts and managed to conjure a smile on his face. “Get changed,” I said. “You'll feel better and it may encourage you. As for the voice, it takes a while and any practice is strengthening muscles and getting you closer.”

He did as I suggested then, with Jamie present for the lessons, we worked on his speech.

Of course we needed something to talk about and he still wanted to know why I looked like death warned over, so I told him about the previous night's encounter.

“What!?” he squeaked, giving me an opportunity to recommend a few changes that definitely improved his voice. “What?” he repeated sounding considerably better.

I gave him the details. After all, if he did end up coming out as I had, he'd be facing the same risks. He insisted I go to the police and I agreed I would as soon as we’d finished with the morning’s exercises, so he worked diligently, ending up with a genuine smile as he changed back into his work clothes.

He gave me a peck on the cheek as he left, which felt oddly right with just a hint of wrong to it. Between us we were both shifting more over to the female end of the spectrum where such behaviour was acceptable.

“You should know, I’m going to call Mia as soon as I'm out of here.”

“She’ll probably still be asleep.”

“Well, that's her hard luck then.”

“Use your voice. You need as much practice as you can get, and she'll be able to tell you what she thinks.”

“Whatever. Talk to the police, and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I’d just finished dressing when my doorbell sounded again. No guesses who though. She punched me in the shoulder.

“Ow,” I said, though secretly relieved. If she’d wanted to hurt me, she’d have slapped me in the face.

“Serves you right!” The pout was more for show. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“It was ten o’clock. You’d still have been working.”

“So? You think I care about that job more than you?”

“What would you have done?” Again secretly pleased that she cared about me. “I was home safe and I didn’t really want you charging through the streets alone with those three still about.”

“I can look after myself.” She sounded a little mollified.

“I know, but just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“So, when were you going to tell me?”

“I hadn’t figured that out yet. I didn’t sleep so well last night, then Jamie was here, then you came around.”

“So what now?”

“I was thinking coffee, breakfast then a quick amble over to the police station. You don't have to come if you don't want to.”

“You're kidding. You think I'm going to let you out of my sight today?”

I poured and passed her a mug.

“I'm glad. I didn't really want to be on my own.”

I sat on the sofa and Mia joined me, melting into my side.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

It turned out I did. Not so much how I'd managed to get away from them as how it had all made me feel. She made all the right noises at all the right times and broke down my defences until the tears started to flow. When I ran out of words, she touched her lips to mine and let me know that she cared.

Between coffee and Mia, I didn’t really have room for breakfast. We made our uneventful way to the police station where I made my report to a sympathetic but unhopeful female police officer who suggested that perhaps I shouldn’t wander around on my own so late at night.

It was well meant, but seriously? Is ten o'clock too late to go for a walk in the neighbourhood? Should I accept a self imposed curfew because other people weren't prepared to obey the law?

Apparently if I wanted to carry on looking like an attractive girl I should.

I thanked her, because she was doing her job and, like the other police officer I'd spoken to, reading the script without necessarily liking the play.

Mia and I headed off for some retail therapy before heading into work.

“Isn't Chris's birthday coming up?” Mia asked as we considered and dismissed the contents of yet another window.

“I'm not sure. You've worked with him longer than me.”

“Not by that much, but I seem to remember it being in February.”

“Could we check with his wife?”

“Maybe. She does drop into the Inn some afternoons.”

“Really? I've never noticed.”

“Happily married man doesn't quite go with the image of the place. She usually lets herself in the back and waits for him in the office. Sometimes she gives me a nod and I'll let Chris know there's someone here to see him.”

“What did you have in mind? For his birthday I mean.”

She told me. After I'd finished laughing I said, “We’re going to want to ask his wife for a little more than just the date of his birthday.”

Mary Holiday next visited her husband a couple of days later. She caught Mia’s eye as usual before stepping into the office but, instead of going to talk to Chris directly, Mia gave me a nod and made her own way back to the office.

As prearranged, I approached Chris.

“We’re running low on orange juice,” I told him.

“What, already? I thought we just had a delivery.”

“I don’t know about that.” Actually I did and we had, but I’d hidden most of them at the back of the cellar. “All I know is I went downstairs a few minutes ago and I can’t see any.”

Chris swore and headed for the gloomy, cobweb festooned depths of the inn’s storage facilities. There was a fair chance he’d find where I’d hidden the OJ, but it would take him a few minutes. In the meantime, the gales of laughter escaping from the office suggested that Chris’s wife approved of Mia’s plan.

Chris reappeared with a dusty box in hand and gave me an exasperated look. I backed away from him, hands held out of the way, when he tried to pass it to me.

“I am not touching that in these clothes,” I said. “Good that you found it though. Where was it?”

“Right at the back under a crate of vodka. Honestly, I thought you had a system.”

“I do.”

“So what happened?” Give him his due, he had the box open and was refilling the cabinet.

“Erm... Oh yeah, I remember. The driver was in a rush to get away, so he helped me unload the last of it. He just kind of dumped it anywhere and I didn’t get round to rearranging things.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you went down and checked that everything else is where it should be.”

“Tomorrow. I don’t want to spend any more time down there than I have to today.” I brushed at my skirt which was both very fullrd and brightly coloured. It had picked up a few wisps of dust from my short excursion into the nether regions, but nothing noticeable.

“You know, there are times I regret all this.” He nodded at my outfit.

“Yeah, but not when you go through the tills at the end of the day.”

He grunted and folded up the empty cardboard, consigning it to the recycling just as Mia reappeared.

“There you are,” she said as though she’d been looking for him. “You have a visitor in the office.”

Chris rushed off at the prearranged signal leaving Mia giving me a gleeful thumbs up behind his back. She showed me a piece of paper.

“Chris’s measurements,” she said. “Now if you can find out that website for me...”

“I’ll get it to you tomorrow. Can you er...” I jutted my chin down the far end of the bar where a couple of customers were waving twenties in the age-old bid to attract bar staff. I think the idea is you have to use a suitably high denomination or the bartender may think you’re not serious. Post COVID, I have a slight preference for contactless payment, though that does mean customers tend to overlook tipping the barmaid. Fortunately most of our clientele are of an age that they prefer banknotes to credit cards, and they’re happy to keep chipping in that little bit extra to encourage the eye-candy, which is why I’m happy enough to forgo my slight preference and to show off a bit more skin than might be prudent given the winter weather.

We encouraged the last customer out the door around twelve-thirty and Mia and I ducked into the ladies to exchange sheet tights and pumps for winter-weight stockings and boots. Chris was halfway through lifting the chairs onto the tables when we reappeared. I helped him with the rest while Mia fetched the Henry.

“You could wait till we've cleared up before changing,” he grumbled.

“Maybe in the summer,” I told him. “In the meantime, don't pass judgement on what you don't know anything about.”

He let it drop, but he'd be back to moaning in a day or two.

The vacuuming took ten minutes as di down the surfaces and putting the dirties in the dishwasher. We were done by one.

“I hear you have a birthday coming up,” Mia said casualty to Chris as I helped her into her coat.

“Yeah. I don't go into Birthdays much.”

“I was thinking we could run it as a themed children's party. You know, fancy dress encouraged but optional with a prize for the best costume.”

“And who's pay for that?”

“Come on Chris. You could run to a bottle of whiskey or three for prizes. These themed evenings usually get a good showing, especially if Ella and I dress up. You know, you have to spend money to make money.”

“And when you two win the prizes, at I'm sure you will...”

“We won’t take part in the competition.”

“And who's going to judge the winner?”

“I have someone in mind for that. Come on Chris, it'll be fun. Let us organise it as a short of birthday present to you.”

“You realise we’ll have a bunch of Charlies coming along in drag.”

“I imagine so, but that hasn't worked out too badly for you, has it?”

By this time Mia had helped me into my coat and we were settling handbags onto shoulders.

“Your birthday lands on a Friday this year. It'll be a good night for a celebration.”

“Come on Chris. You know we’ll just nag you till you say yes.”

“Do I get to see your costumes ahead of time?”

“No,” Mia said with a coquettish smile, “but I promise you'll approve.”

“Fine, do it, but don't go overboard.”

“Budget of a couple of hundred quid?” I asked.

“How much?”

“Decorations, nibbles, band... And a few bottles for prizes.”

“A hundred quid and no band – they take up room that could be used by paying customers I'll think about letting the juke box run for free for the evening, and people can pay for their own nibbles. I'll okay three bottles of spirits for the prizes, but none of the good stuff.”

“You can be right stingy at times you know, but okay, we can run with that.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind. I'm already regretting it.”

We got out of there and headed back to mine for the rest of the night, taking out several birds with one sizeable proverbial stone.

For one, it reassured Mia that I'd made it home. For another, it meant I could give her the web address she wanted. For a third, it gave her a chance to catch up with her sister, who changed as soon as she arrived. Mia was able to contribute to the morning’s lesson, adding a much-needed additional perspective. Lastly, it gave Mia a chance to spring her surprise in regard to Chris’s birthday bash, which somehow ended up with Mia and me modelling those ridiculous party dresses Mum had bought.

Things settled into something of a routine after that. Jamie continued to come by every morning and, between our combined efforts, we both developed pretty convincing feminine voices. I still had Tuesdays free, except that Mia would make a point of calling me in the evening to make sure I was home and safe. Wednesday was delivery day when I’d spend the afternoon in dungarees, lugging heavy boxes and barrels of booze and checking inventory so I knew what we had and where. Thursday was Mia’s day off and usually busy enough that I rarely surfaced from the constant demands on my time to check in on her. Probably just as well as she had a lot more experience being a girl and knew how to look after herself. I doubted she’d appreciate me calling to check on her.

Weeks passed by and, as so often happens when you slip into a routine, I settled into the rhythm of life and didn’t give much thought over to my future. On the plus side, between my tip jar and the share of the income, my bank balance drifted deeper into the black. Even with Mia’s delight in shopping, which I was rapidly learning to appreciate, and even with the ridiculous prices attached to most of the nicer things we found on our sprees, we still managed to put more away than we spent.

January turned into February and Mia focused her mind on planning the party. Chris couldn’t find any special occasions to celebrate during the first month of the year, despite his hankering to have two naughty nuns running his bar for an evening. We didn’t have much chance of escaping Valentine’s day though. He spent some of the business income on a couple of costumes – tight bodices forming love heart shapes over our breasts and short, frilly skirts with ruched petticoats to finish the look. He had us pose for promotional photos which went up around the bar a week before the event. We grinned and bore it, knowing that payback would come just a few days later.

Valentine’s is not a great time to be an apparently single trans barmaid in an establishment full of horny reprobates, especially with such a sexy, revealing costume. Mia had helped me prepare for the ordeal, making sure the bit of me everyone else seemed to have forgotten I had was tightly tucked away, and arming me with a list of ways of turning down all the inevitable propositions without causing offence.

I needed them from the outset as I turned more heads than my beautiful, generously endowed genuine girlfriend. The words worked well enough at deflecting the frequent and often somewhat offensive offers that were made to me in the course of the evening, but nothing could protect me from the very many groping hands.

“There has to be a better way of making a living than this,” I murmured to Mia through gritted teeth and a rictus smile.

“Every job has its bad days,” she smiled back. “Eyes on the prize, payback is coming.”

Not long after, with the evening wearing on and several of our lighter-weight clients looking like they were getting ready to head home, Mia deftly swung out of the reach of a particularly persistent pair of hands and called for attention. It was an unusual enough occurrence that pretty much everyone shut up straight away.

“Okay,” Mia started nervously. “You may have thought tonight was the only night we’re planning on celebrating this month but, you may not know that Chris’s birthday is coming up in a few days and we’re planning to celebrate it next Friday.

“We thought we'd do it is a kind of kids’ birthday theme, and we thought that instead of just me and Ella dressing up and looking beautiful, we'd give you lot a chance to shine.

“There’ll be a competition with prizes for those of you brave enough to come in costume – we won't be taking part in it – and we’re planning on having cake and party games and everything, so make sure you put the date down in your diaries.”

It distracted them until closing time. A lot of them left shortly after Mia’s announcement as they’d intended, and most of the rest were so focused on planning what they were going to do that they forgot about the prime pieces of rump steak they’d been fondling all evening.

The next few days passed in a flurry of activity. We ordered in a whole bunch of things outside the budget Chris had set, but it wasn’t an immense amount extra and would probably be covered by our tips.

On the day before the party I pestered Chris into letting me borrow a key and Mia and I headed down early in the morning to deck the place out. Chris’s present from us took pride of place in front of the table of nibbles. The rest of the bar we covered with balloons and bunting and cheerfully coloured table cloths.

It took me a few minutes to figure out how to change the jukebox so it played for free, by which time Mia had put the finishing touches on the decorations. We had a couple of hours before opening time, so I made us a couple of coffees and we retired to the office for a breather. It's always been a place Chris has said we should feel free to wander in and out of during the day and is only kept locked when the pub’s open, so I have to wonder if he meant for us to find it.

“What's this?” Mia asked vaguely looking at a letter on the desk.

“Probably none of our business,” I replied looking over her shoulder at the object in question.

“It most certainly is our business,” Mia picked up the letter and scanned through both pages. “It looks like Chris is planning to sell this place.”

“What?” I snatched the letter out of her hand and did my own scanning. It was true. The asking price had been set and the date it was due to be listed agreed as the first of March, about two weeks away.

“The sneaky bastard,” Mia growled. “I’ll kill him.”

“Let’s wait till after the party...”

“I really don’t feel like throwing him a party right now.”

“Except we have a pub full of customers looking forward to this evening, and we will get a little revenge on him this evening, won’t we?”

She didn’t seem happy, but she was taking control a little. “You realise this nullifies the contracts we have with him, and it'll be a hard sell to get the new owners to agree anything like them.”

“Maybe Chris is looking to sell because of those contacts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he agreed before realising what it would mean to his bottom line. We don't know what other irons he has in the fire. Maybe with what he agreed with us, he's not making enough money out of this place.”

“He could have told us.”

“Maybe this is his way of doing just that.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? You know what Chris is like, and has he ever left anything like this on the desk before?”

Mia glanced at the locked filling cabinet where Chris kept all the business paperwork and relented.

“I'm still not happy with him “

“No, me neither, but let's think about this when things are calmer. In the meantime...” I pulled open a bottom drawer in the desk and withdrew a small bottle of whiskey. “After a shock like that, maybe we could both do with having the coffee fortified a little.”

The whiskey had a calming effect on us both. We sat quietly, communing with our own inner thoughts for a while until the time came when we had to get ready. I gave Mia’s thigh a gentle squeeze and she forced a smile into her face

“I'm going to have had enough of those by the end of the evening.”

“We both are,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I'll manage. We should change.”

The bottle went back in the drawer and the mugs in the dishwasher. The two of us headed for the ladies.

There’s nothing quite like dressing up in something frivolous and fussy to mend a bad mood. I still don’t know what was going through Mum’s mind when she bought these party dresses – the only logical thing I can think of is she was trying to shock me out of what I was doing, and if that was the case, it backfired big time.

They were shiny satin and overloaded with frills and flounces. Puffed sleeves, ruffles, you name it, with skirts too short to hide the matching ruffled underwear. We’d giggled ourselves silly the first time we tried them on, and it was nothing to the state we found ourselves in this time. Then again, this time was worse for two reasons, the first being that we both fully intended to go out in public looking like this.

Mia worked on my face with her makeup kit doing I don’t know what while I put her long luxuriant hair into pigtails, then she had me look in the mirror while she sorted my hair into a similar style. As makeup goes it was actually more of a disguise. She’d done something around my eyes to make them look larger and to my lips to give them a plump but natural Cupid’s bow. To that she’d added a spray of freckles across my nose leaving me looking like a toddler in all ways but my size.

I cannot explain how it felt to see myself looking like that. Yes I could see what would give an uncomfortable bulge to just about every guy who came through the door. It was having something of the same effect on me, except that fighting it was a soft feeling spreading through all of my insides that here was a glimpse of the childhood I had always wanted. Here was a hint of the little girl who’d delighted in being a girl before it had all been taken away, and perhaps there was a suggestion of Mum’s intent, maybe to say sorry and give me back a little of what I’d lost.

By the time Mia finished her own face, the soft sensation inside me had won and I wasn’t bulging anywhere embarrassing, unless you might include the twins up top. If I was truly trying to pass as a child, I would have been better off going without the breastplate, but since Mia had no choice but to be well endowed, I felt the need to show solidarity.

She gave me a toothy grin revealing a blacked-out incisor that absolutely topped off her look. We allowed ourselves a good ten minute gigglefest before a little last-minute sorting. She checked between my legs but, apart from a willing twitch in response to her attention, I was able to keep the little guy dormant and strapped him away where I would have to work extra hard to keep him hidden.

It was time to open the doors. With a deep sigh of anticipation we stepped out into the unknown.

There was actually a queue. Maybe a couple of dozen guys, more than half of who were making an effort not to be, waiting to be let in. We were treated to a cheer as we opened the doors, then to a far more enthusiastic one when they saw who they’d be dealing with.

The place filled rapidly. We let them loose on the jukebox, requesting party songs as much as possible and asking them to hold off on the food until the guest of honour appeared. He’d already declared his intention to come fashionably late, and when he walked through the door three quarters of an hour later, wearing his habitual tee-shirt and jeans, he played right into our hands.

Mia intercepted him in the middle of all the cheers and congratulations from all the customers, who to a man had come in some semblance of little boy or girl party attire. There were a few disappointed looks, but you don’t complain about the birthday boy, do you?

Actually, why not. I made my way over to the table where our present to him was waiting and Mia closed the distance, her smile still a little rigid and her grip on his arm more than a little fierce.

I didn’t give Chris a chance to say anything. “Hey everyone,” I called out. “Who thinks Chris is a little underdressed for his party?”

The entire place erupted and I could see the look of panic growing in my boss’s eyes as he began to figure out what was about to happen.

“Well, it’s a good job we bought him a present then. Hey Chris, here you are.”

“Erm, thank you. This is amazing what you’ve done.” He tried to hide the box behind him but it was too large.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mia asked and waved to the crowd who took up the chant until he gave into the mob rule.

It was a cheerful yellow compared to my emerald green and Mia’s marmalade orange, and it was big enough to fit his larger frame. It came with a bra stuffed to bursting with birdseed in a pair of old tights, because neither of us wanted the expense of anything more realistic when it would only be used the once. Chris’s face turned a satisfying shade of beetroot as he held it up for everyone to see and cheer, then Mia held up her free hand and the place quieted.

“I hope you’ll excuse us for a few minutes while we get Christine dressed up for her party.”

The renewed wall of sound suggested they would. We led a bewildered and faintly struggling Chris over to the ladies.

“I’m not going to wear that,” Chris insisted once the door closed behind us, but Mia was ready for his objections.

“Strip,” she ordered him, “or do I get to cut your clothes off you?” She held a pair of dressmaking scissors in one hand and I don’t think anyone would have doubted her resolve in that moment.

“You do know there’ll be repercussions for this, don’t you?”

“Bring ‘em on when you're ready. For now though, just strip that lot off and pass it over.”

He did as he was told, reluctantly and stopped at the last garment.

“I’m not taking these off in the presence of any woman but my wife. Besides, we need someone on the bar.”

“Fine.” She held up the stack of clothes she’d gathered thus far. “I’ll put these in the office and Ella can add your budgie smugglers to the pile once you’ve changed. I assume you’ll be okay with Ella helping you?”

She backed out without waiting for a response.

“You can’t be serious,” he pleaded with me.

I shrugged. “It would have been harder for us to do this if you’d made even a half-hearted attempt to turn up in costume, but now everyone’s expecting you to appear in this lot. Your only way out with any dignity is to own it.”

“Like you did.”

“Yep, except I suspect I was more of a willing participant.”

“Is this payback for me doing what I did to you?”

“It’s a mix of things, but payback’s pretty low on the list. I’m pretty sure Mia’s angrier with you than I am right now.”

“I noticed that. What’s that about?” He’d pulled on the satin panties while I held up the preloaded bra ready for him to put it on.

“You left a letter in your desk. I’m guessing you intended us to find it.”

“You always were bright. How come she’s so mad and you’re not?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m mad enough. It’s a lousy, cowardly way to tell us about your plans and you shouldn't be surprised at the response, especially springing it on us on a night like this. Mia hasn’t been able to see past her rage yet, but I may be getting there, I think.”

I helped him into the dress and zipped it up.

“It’ll look better if you wear the wig and let me do a bit if makeup on you. Mia’s better at the finishing touches, but since you kicked her out, you’re stuck with the b-team.”

“How do you deal with...” he nodded south to where a one eyed trouser snake of significant dimensions had worked it’s way loose of its satin confines.

“Your Choice. Either go out there and keep it hidden as well as you can or...” I indicated the way into one of the stalls.

“Is that how you do it?”

“I resorted to it once or twice in the early days, but I feel happy enough as me now, so it doesn’t come up so much." Pun not intended, but I kind of wish it were.

“Let me sort out the rest of your looks before you decide what to do about your problem.”

The wig fit passably well. Chris’s hair was pretty short so easy enough to hide under the cap, and freckles were easy enough even for a novice like me. He declined having anything done around the eyes which didn’t bother me that much. He’d just look more like a bloke in a dress.

“I’ll leave you to settle yourself before stepping out.”

“What if I don’t play along? What if I rip this lot off and do a runner for the office?”

“Well, at the very least I’d suggest keeping the knickers on if you don’t want to be done for indecent exposure. I’m pretty sure at least two or three of tonight’s crowd are off duty plod. As to the rest, given the mood out there, what do you think are the chances someone might have broken into the office and nicked your clothes? You know, just for a lark?”

“You are not going to hear the last of this.”

“Actually, if you go ahead with the sale as you are obviously planning to do, that'll mean Mia and I will have to renegotiate our contracts with the new owners, assuming they even want us to stay on. I’m not sure what you can do that’s worse than what you’ve already done.

“Besides, you should take a bit of your own advise. This is just a bit of harmless fun, so why not just go with the flow? I’m assuming the way you’re feeling right now is how you hoped I’d be feeling back at Christmas, and you didn’t mean that to be too dreadful, did you?”

I backed out and left him to it. The party atmosphere was well underway with couples dancing near the jukebox, and by couples I mean guys dressed as girls dancing with guys dressed as guys. Mia was working as hard as she could to keep up with the orders, so my reappearance came as a relief. Ten minutes of madness later, Chris made his entrance. By all appearances, he’d done what was needed to reduce the swelling, and he’d decided to embrace the evening the way it was going. His customers were appreciative and he even joined us behind the bar for the next half hour.

He declared the buffet open to all, despite having had nothing to do with it being there in the first place, and within five minutes it had been reduced to crumbs, which left us with dancing and drinking and one final surprise for the night. About half past ten Mia’s phone buzzed and she checked it briefly before waving her hands for silence.

“Ladies and gents,” she called and repeated herself until something approaching silence descended. “We told you at the outset there would be prizes for the best costumes. We also said that, as the only girls here, it wouldn’t be fair for Ella and me to take part.” That generated a few cheers and knowing looks in my direction. “We didn’t think it would be fair for us to judge the competition either since we know some of you better than others and we didn’t want to tempt any of you into trying to bribe us, so we invited a special guest along to do the judging, and she’s here now. I’d like you all to give a big welcoming cheer for Mrs Mary Holiday.”

The cheer was deafening and shared by everyone except Chris who had somehow managed to make his eyes look immense without the help of makeup.

Mary sauntered in wearing spike heels that held her feet almost vertical. She had a gabardine coat on and the only other part of her body on display was clad in fishnets. The cheer lasted just long enough for the details to make it into beer-fuddled brains then faded into uncertain silence.

The crowd withdrew from Chris’s vicinity leaving him a small island of shimmering yellow stranded in the middle of an abruptly empty space. The look of sheer horror in his eyes stirred a momentary feeling of pity in me before I reminded myself that this was how he had hoped to persuade me to give up my job.

Mrs H swayed slowly in his direction, all eyes following her progress in the silence. She reached Chris, looked up into his panicked features and smiled.

“My, you’re a big girl aren’t you?” She pushes him back onto a chair and settled into his lap, facing him. “It’s a good job my husband isn’t here, because you’re just the sort I could go for.” She bit the tip of his nose playfully. “Hold my coat, won’t you? This should only take a minute.”

She stood up abruptly, allowing everyone who cared to look a clear but brief view of something growing under the short hem of Chris’s dress. Only the briefest of glimpses though, before she whipped her coat off and dropped it onto Chris’s lap.

It seemed Chris’s criteria for choosing a wife weren’t that far from those he used when choosing bar staff. She had survived the birth of her children very much intact and looked stunning in a black basque with suspenders holding up the fishnet stockings. Her significant mammary endowments fought to escape their confined, but somehow she managed to stay on the right side of decent. Just.

She did a slow round of the bar, closing a gaping jaw here, stroking an overly made-up face there. Over the course of five minutes she gave most people a generous look over and picked out three – two in drag and one in a remarkable velvet Little Lord Fauntleroy suit. The latter she declared the winner and gave him first pick of the prizes, the other two weren’t much to choose from, but she did pick one over the other and sent them after their winnings before returning to her husband and her coat. She reclaimed the coat and looked down at the highly unladylike lap in front of her.

“Oh dear, that won’t do at all.” She reached underneath to what was causing the problem and pulled him to his feet by it. “Come on little girl, let’s see if I have a prize for you too.”

There wasn’t much he could do to resist under the circumstances, not that I think he would have tried. He allowed himself to be towed into the ladies where a few seconds later, a few very short and heartfelt prayers could be heard coming from the other side of the door, followed by a mixture of grunts and squeals that raised the loudest cheer yet from the clientele and the usual party mayhem resumed.

Chris and Mary reappeared some time later, a very satisfied cat and a very bewildered canary. Mia was heading towards relenting and pulled him a pint. Mary slipped her coat on and kissed him, telling him she'd be right back. When she did reappear, she was wheeling a trolley with a large cake on it. In deference to safety measures, it only had the one candle, but it was one of those special ones that relights each time it’s blown out.

We finally closed up about three in the morning. Mia had definitely relented as she presented Chris with his clothes, but it turned out Chris had got over himself to the extent that he just carried them out to the car, still wearing his party best. The ballet flats we’d bought him as footwear weren't intended for outside use, but they'd last him the journey home.

It took an hour to clear up before we were ready to head home, by which time we were too tired to change, so we shrugged our coats on and headed for Mia’s, also in our party clothes.

Morning was almost done when we woke the following morning. As usual, I let Mia have first use of the facilities and emerged from my own comfort stop to find a coffee waiting for me. Mia had poured her tips from the previous night out onto the table and was sitting through them. I did the same, whistling gently at the bottom line.

“You know Chris left that letter for us to find, don't you?” I asked.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“How much do you have saved?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Between the tips and the percentage profits my bank balance is showing in five figures now.”

“Same here. So what?”

“So maybe Chris putting the inn up for sale is a good thing.”

“I'm listening.”

“Life's been good these past few months, but it's also been busy.”

“Yeah, busy is why we've made so much dosh.”

“Except when you’re busy you don't tend to think of the future. Do you see yourself as a barmaid for all your life?”

“Of course not. I'm not going to be young forever and it's going to stop being profitable one day when my boobs start to sag.”

“So what's your long term plan?”

“I don't know. I guess I never really had one.”

“So maybe the reason you're angry right now had less to do with Chris pulling the rug out from under you and more to do with finding out there's no floor there?”

“Oh no, I am mad at Chris's that he couldn't talk to us openly about this.”

“Except you know what Chris is like, and this is exactly the sort of thing we'd have expected if we'd taken a moment to think.”

“Scorpion and frog kind of thing?”

“I'm not sure I'm familiar...”

“Scorpion asks frog to carry him across the river. Frog says, 'No, you'll sting me and I'll die.’ Scorpion says, 'No I won’t,' and persuades frog to take him. Halfway across, scorpion stings frog. Frog says, 'Why did you do that? Now we'll both due.’ Scorpion says, ‘I can't help it, it's my nature.’”

“A but harsh, but I suppose it's not far off. I wouldn’t call Chris a scorpion, but we're definitely the frogs here and we should have known better. Besides, Chris did tell us in his way.

“The thing is, we do have to think about it future now. The good times aren't going to go on forever...”

“Just another few weeks.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“Are you saying you have an idea?”

“Just one to throw into the mix right now. I mean unless either of us has anything else in mind. I was wondering if you might want to come in as a partner with me and see if we can swing a business loan to take the Inn off Chris’s hands.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I think that was what Chris was thinking by leaving the letter out. We have two weeks before the places goes on the market. That gives us time to decide if we want by to do this, figure out what it will take and maybe approach him with an offer.

“It'll most likely tie up all of our available capital, and it won't be without risk, but how do you feel about being co-owner of a new pub?”

“And carry on serving drinks to a bunch of lecherous old men?”

“They're not all old. And this is where the decisions and risks come in. We know how to make it successful right now, so maybe start off not changing much. Then when the finances are looking better, start introducing new ideas to bring in a wider range of clients. Or we could take a risk and start doing that straight away.”

“What's to say half our clients don't walk when Chris does?”

“Nothing I suppose, except they come for us, so as long as we continue to offer just that...”

Mia pulled at her lip. “There is a flat upstairs. Chris just uses it to store junk. We could live there.”

“So, not a terrible idea?”

“Jamie can probably set us up with a business advisor, but we'll need a few figures to show first.”

“So, let's talk to Chris. If he really did intend for us to find it so we had a head start in getting a business plan together, he should be happy to help us.”

“Okay, but do you think he’s going to be so happy after what we did to him last night?”

“I get the sense that any hard feelings will have softened by now. Mary will have made sure of that.”

“Ew! I did not want that image in my brain.”

“You’re really up for this?”

“I’m up for looking into it, as long as you’re okay pulling out if it looks unfeasible.”

“Of course. We should give him a call sometime. I’m sure he’s going to want us there sometime this afternoon.”

So I called him and he agreed to meet us at the pub an hour before opening.

“I’m really sorry about the way you found out,” he said once we were all seated in his office with a a glass of wine. “I really did mean to tell you about it after the party. I left the letter out as a reminder to say something today without thinking you’d be in here before we opened up yesterday.

“It’s all gone a bit down the pan in recent days, what with the mortgage rates going up every few weeks. We’re making a good profit at the moment, but I bought this place on an interest only mortgage and while the rates were down at a half percent or so, we were all making good money, but the last letter I had from the bank put it up to four and a half percent. Even if I asked you to give up that percentage of the profits you two negotiated, I wouldn’t be able to make any money in the current financial climate.”

“How long have you been making a loss?” I asked.

“Like I said, you're pretty bright. That started shortly after New Year.”

“Why didn't you ask us to renegotiate?” Mia asked.

“Because we agreed it, and because you’re worth what we agreed. Besides, I was kind of holding out for things to sort themselves out, but it just looks like they're going to get worse. I need to get out of this business while I still have a shirt on my back. I'm sorry it leaves you in a hole, but there really is no alternative.”

“I take it you wouldn’t recommend us taking the place on as owners?” Mia asked.

“Not unless you have enough in your savings accounts to buy it outright. The only way anyone’s making any money these days is if they already have lots.”

“The rich get richer,” I murmured.

“And the poor get poorer. Is that why you wanted to talk to me today? How much do you have to invest?”

We told him. He whistled.

“Not a bad sum, but not enough. I mean don’t let me stop you if you want to try, but the way things are going you’ll be broke by year’s end.”

“Okay. Well, thanks. I suppose we should start getting ready to open then.”

“Not quite yet. I’m not sure how things are going to work out yet – I mean the pub isn’t going on the market for a couple of weeks – but there will be a cash settlement when the sale goes through and you’ll both have a part of it.”

“Not the percentage we agreed.” I made it more a statement than a question but he smiled anyway.

“No, not that much. I’ll have to balance the amount I make in the sale against my initial investment and my recent losses, but I’m guessing it’ll amount to somewhere between one and two percent. Each. It’ll be more it sounds, maybe a few thousand. Call it severance pay.”

“You're not going to recommend us to the new owners?” Mia wanted to know.

“I will if you want, but I’m not sure you'll was by to stay.”

“Why not?”

“Like I say, the only people who’ll be able to make money are those who have be it. I'm guessing the place will be bought by one of the big breweries, which means they'll probably offer you a zero hours contract for about two thirds what I'm paying you without the bonuses. They'll redo the place in corporate colours which’ll drive most of our regulars away, and you won't get anywhere near as much in tips. If I were you, I'd make other plans.”

“This all really sucks.”

“Well yeah, apart from the lump sum you'll make on the sale.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take a long holiday to start with I think. After that who knows? Mary wants to see what opportunities we might find in Europe. She has friends in France and I know a few people in Germany and Holland.”

“Well, we have a few weeks yet,” I said. “When do we let our customers know?”

“End of the month. The weekend before the place goes on the market. I was thinking we could have a sell out party. Musicians on the Titanic sort of thing.”

“Period costumes?” Mia asked. “Long skirts, high collars, long sleeves.”

“Why not? Everything else is going to change. We could even have a go at putting you back in trousers if you like.” The last comment was directed at me.

“Yeah, I don't see that happening.”

“You really are into this, aren't you? I mean – you tell anyone else this and I'll deny it – I’d happily put on that getup you gave me last night from time to time for the effect it has on Mary, but I don't get how it's a lifestyle for you.”

“It's not the same for me.”

“Really? It has nothing to do with the way it gives Mia the hots for you?”

I looked at Mia who had her inscrutable face on.

“That's a bonus, sure, but I was kind of this way underneath it all before you put me in a frock.”

“So, how far do you plan to go with it then? Stay as you are so you two can keep enjoying each other, or do you plan to take it further some day? I mean a boob job would be an obvious next step, although it'll leave you even more stuck between one thing and the other. Hormones maybe? From what I hear they'll make you look and feel a lot more like a girl, but they’ll put your ding dong to sleep somewhat. I have to wonder what your girlfriend will think of you once your little soldier can't stand to attention anymore. Eventually you’ll most likely want to get rid of it completely. I hear they can do some amazing surgery these days. Remove your testes and turn your scrotum into a vagina, the head of your John Thomas into a clitoris. At what stage are you going to find out exactly what Mia’s into? Is she a lesbian, or does she get all hot and bothered by blokes who are in touch with their feminine side? If she is into girls and you go all the way, are you going to be enough of a girl for her?”

“Sounds like you're enjoying this a little too much.” Mia's voice was strained. “Sounds like you’re looking for payback for last night.”

“Maybe there is a little bit of that in there, but the way last night ended, I really don't have much to complain about. I am genuinely concerned about you two. You both really need to think about this, and maybe now would be a good time while you're considering your futures.

“Actually, maybe not right now. We open in about half an hour so right now I need you both to shake a leg and get ready for the rush.”

It wasn't much of a rush. After the previous night's party atmosphere it seemed like most of the regulars had decided to take a night off. It was probably as well since neither Mia not I felt particularly in a cheerful mood.

We closed up earlier than usual and Mia and I headed for home.

“It's probably as well that the idea with the pub fell through,” Mia said by way of an opening salvo. “There are better things that we can do with our money.”

“Such as?”

“I think we should invest it in ourselves. My dad says that the best lessons you learn in life are the ones the cost the most to learn. He reckons the only thing that's guaranteed from any of those free courses is that you’ll get what you paid for.”

“That's all well and good, but we could still spend lot of money and learn nothing useful. What do you think I should study?”

“Dad also says you should follow your passions.”

“I'm not sure there's a living to be made from studying you.”

She smiled. “I'm not your only passion though, am I? What else is there in your life that's prompted you to stand your ground against pretty much everyone who’s opposed you, including your parents and mine?”

I'd not thought about it as a passion, but she was right.

“You already know what I think. You're already eloquent, persuasive, committed. Imagine how effective you could be if you understood the issues behind being someone like you.

“The world’s stuck in the middle when it comes to trans people. The medical profession has evidence to suggest it’s a genuine condition, the legal profession is working hard to defend trans rights, but the average man and woman in the street still has no idea about what it means to be someone like you. A lot of them are prejudiced, like my mum and your landlord. A lot more are uneasy about it because it's different enough from the norm it leaves them off balance. Then there are those who are ready to have their minds changed like my dad, like your mum and dad. They're the thin end of the wedge and at least a glimmer of hope that things can get better, but they won't get there on their own.”

“I'm guessing the reason you'd like me to do this is because of Jamie.”

“I'm not going to deny it, but also because of you and a million more like you. Don't you think the world would be a better place with a bit more live and let live?”

I pondered in silence for a while. I needed to give it more thought, but for now...

“What about the rest of what he said?”

“Chris is a dick.”

“No argument there.”

“It doesn't stop him from being right though.”

I felt a trickle of dread seep into my veins. “What are you thinking?”

“He has me worried I'm keeping you from deciding what's best for you.”

I waited. She wasn’t done yet and just needed time.

“What if it’s a bit like the pub? You know, we just want to stick with what's familiar because it feels comfortable.”

“It feels a bit better than comfortable.”

“I know, but in a way that’s worse. I’m loving what we have together. You make me feel like no-one I’ve ever known, and I know a big part of it is because of the way you look. Maybe I like sharing the secret that underneath it all things are not as they seem. Maybe I get a kick out of people trying to deal with me being a lesbian when behind closed doors I’m not. Maybe I am a lesbian except my girlfriend has something extra that nobody else’s girlfriend has. I don’t know what it is, I just know you make me feel amazing, and sure I want to keep you just the way you are.

“But if I really care for you, and I do, Ella, then I have to think what’s best for you. Chris is right, keeping you stuck in the middle like this is definitely not what’s best for you.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

“You think we should take a break.”

“From the amazing sex, yes, and from everything that leads to it. I think we should try just being friends for a while, or whatever it takes, so you can think about what’s best for you. I think you should see a gender therapist and take some professional advice. Maybe try something new like hormones.”

“Even if it stops me from...”

“Well, if we’re not having sex, it won’t make a lot of difference, will it? It’ll also mean there’ll be less risk of any embarrassing bulges giving you away.”

“What if it’s not reversible?”

“You’ll have to talk that through with the specialist. As I understand it, it affects different people in different ways. Breast growth for instance. I like the idea of you having your own, but it’s not certain you’ll get a pair, or how big they’ll be. Once you have them, the only way back would be surgery.”

“I was thinking what if I – or we – want to make use of my little fella? Is it going to be possible to reverse any change to my libido?”

“That’ll be part of your conversation with the specialist, but you do see, don’t you? This is something you have to do.”

“I don’t like it, but I suppose so.” We’d reached Mia’s flat.

“One more time before we commit to the change?” She quirked an eyebrow hopefully.

“Actually, I really don’t feel like it right now.”

“You are such a girl sometimes.” She kissed me on the cheek and stepped inside.

Completely lost in thought, I headed home on autopilot. It didn’t even register with me when I stepped into the dark alley.

They were waiting for me again – at least I assume it was me they were waiting for – but this time they didn’t make the mistake of stepping in my way. Something hard and heavy smacked across the back of my head and I went down like a sack of potatoes.

Instinct curled me into a foetal position and tucked my hands behind my head. The first boot struck me full in the kidney and, agonised, I rolled onto my back. The rest of them went into my arms and legs, a few into my sides, and one particularly brutal one between my legs.

I’m not ashamed to say I cried out in pain, especially after that first blow. I lay as still as I could and endured the onslaught. I remember wondering what it was about a sack of potatoes that made it so special when it came to going down, but that was just my brain trying to distract me from the pain. Part way through I regained enough presence of mind to grab for my bag and the alarm. That earned me a couple of especially brutal kicks, one of which caught my in the hand and carried through to knock my head hard enough that I actually saw stars. They’re not as pretty as the cartoons make out.

One of my attackers yelled something at me, but I was too dazed to make out any details. They ran off, leaving me lying in a pool of my own blood and urine.

I didn’t move. After an indeterminate time I heard a muffled voice. I could sense concern in the tone, so I turned towards it and the middle aged man from who it had come.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, slightly less muffled this time.

I shook my head, wondering why it was some people seemed to have so little common sense to them.

“I’m calling for an ambulance,” he said, putting a phone to his ear. A muffled conversation followed. At some stage a blanket was laid over me, which didn’t do much to protect me from the freezing cold ground, but it was better than nothing. I couldn’t do much more than endure the agony from my crotch, my back, my head, and wait out another interminable delay until flashing blue lights appeared at the end of the alley and gentle hands took over.

I was eased onto a gurney and from there into the back of the ambulance. Level of response questions came next, which I did my best to answer, and a short ride to the nearest accident and emergency.

I was passed into the care of a hospital trauma team along with a passable description of my injuries. I didn’t remember telling anyone about them, so I presumed the evidence had to be pretty much there. I remember a sharp pinch in my arm and the brightly lit corridor faded to black.

I awoke in a private room with tubes and wires attached to different parts of my body. I was wearing a hospital gown – pink, which I found pleasing – but the breastplate had been removed along with all the rest of my clothing. My movement must have alerted someone because less than a minute later a nurse appeared and helped me into a comfortable position before noting down a few readings, and a few minutes after her, a doctor appeared. Indian if I was any judge, but most that seemed to be true of most of the doctors in the National Health Service.

“I’m glad to see you awake,” he said taking the clipboard from the nurse and browsing through the contents. “Quite an unpleasant experience you had last night.”

“How bad?”

“Oh, nothing a week’s rest won’t fix. You have a bruised kidney, but the blood in your urine has already more or less cleared up, a very minor concussion, which I know may not feel like it right now, but believe me, it could have been much worse.”

I wanted to believe him but the way my head was throbbing tried convince me otherwise.

“Of a more serious nature, you also have a ruptured testical, but we were able to perform minor surgery on you last night to repair the damage, though from the looks of you when you arrived, you may not be so bothered about that.

“We have contacted your parents and your employer – very sensible of you to have ICE lock on your phone. I wish more people did so. Your parents are traveling down and will be here soon. There is also a Mia Williams who has been making quite a nuisance of herself.”

“My girlfriend. And co-worker.”

“I did wonder. You seem to have a somewhat complicated story when it comes to relationships.”

“You could say that. Could you let her see me.”

“I will allow a brief visit. Then when you are up to it, there are a couple of police officers who'd like to have a word.”

“After I've seen Mia.”

“Of course, but I shall be limiting both visits to ten minutes maximum. You need rest.”

“When will I be able to go home?”

“I want to monitor your condition for the next twenty-for hours at least. If all is well tomorrow morning, and your parents are willing, I’ll see about releasing you into their care then.”

He withdrew and it seemed within seconds, Mia appeared in the doorway. There were all the, ‘I was so worried, what happened? What were you thinking?’ stages to the conversation, well, monologue really. I did manage enough words to reassure her I was alright, and then the ten minutes were up. She promised to come back later, and I promised to text her when I had an idea on when she could come.

Next came the police, and I was glad I’d taken the time to make the report about the last attack. I gave them as much of a description as I could manage – not very detailed given the darkness of the alley and the suddenness of the attack, but no doubt in my mind it was the same people as the previous attack.

Why had I risked going down the same alley, they wanted to know. Because my alternative would have added ten minutes to a five-minute journey. Because I’d been preoccupied and hadn't thought about it. Because why should I have to?

I was glad when they left and didn't hold out any more hope than they seemed to have of seeeing justice served.

I spent most of the morning drifting in and out of sleep. When my doctor popped his head in to tell me my parents had arrived, I asked about the possibility of Mia visiting again before she had to get off to work and he said she was already in the waiting room talking to my mum.

The ten-minute rule applied again. I offered my parents use of my flat, but they'd already booked into a hotel. Mia took my keys and offered to pack me some clothes since it was seeming more likely I’d be spending at least a week with my folks. The afternoon was a repeat of the morning with a lessening of my headache and an increase in my level of boredom. When my doctor made his evening rounds I asked him if it would be possible to have a word with gender therapist before I was released and he said he’d see what he could do.

The following morning my bag of urine was blood free and the swelling in my scrotum considerably reduced. I endured the discomfort of having a catheter removed, after which I was permitted enough freedom to make use the room’s en-suite toilet. My headache was down to a dull throb and the news was that the doctor would give me one last check-up at lunchtime before signing me off.

Mid morning, a youngish woman – in her thirties I guessed – with concerned eyes and a friendly smile stuck her head through the door.

“Hi, I’m Madeleine Blake. Doctor Patel asked if I would pop by.”

“You’re the gender specialist?”

“I am. He told me what you've been through. I am so sorry. Tell me what can I do for you.”

This encounter was not limited to ten minutes. I told her everything that had happened since the Christmas event and included my issues growing up. I think I talked for about an hour and a half during which time she listened and made notes. When I was finally done, she flipped through her notes and closed her notebook.

“This is a good start,” she said, “but it should be obvious that we’re not going to fix it after one session. I understand that you’re going to be staying with your parents for a while, and that’s not local.”

I told her where and that I was going to be gone for perhaps a week. Maybe more.

“Well, I don’t think it would be right for me just to react to what you’ve told me, so I’m going to go away and write up these notes, and potentially refer you to a specialist up near where your parents live. It’s obvious to me that you are very much on the trans spectrum, but where that leads is going to take a little more work to figure out. That being said, you are evidently not a man in the conventional sense of the word, and I would be inclined to start you on some hormone therapy, if that’s what you would like to do. I would suggest gamete storage before you start so you have the option of children in the future, but the choice on that is entirely yours.

“If It’s alright with you, I’ll finish my write up and pass your details to a colleague in your parents’ area. I suspect your case will be a little more complex than most, so it would be good to have a second opinion before doing anything that can't be undone, but I'll pass on my recommendations so, if he or she agrees, well be able to move onto the next step quite quickly. How does that sound?”

It sounded okay. It actually felt great since I'd actually taken a step towards solving something that had been interfering with my life since my earliest years. I said as much and added what Mia had suggested I do about it. I asked if she had any recommendations on how I could move towards a better understanding of what was happening to me. She promised me a list of books to read by the time I was discharged and backed out of my room.

The rest of the morning involved detaching me from all their monitoring equipment and getting me ready to leave. Unfortunately, they had cut me out of the breastplate, which meant it was no longer useable, so I was lacking a bit in the upstairs department when I tried on my clothes.

A little careful snipping with a pair of borrowed scissors left me with a couple of serviceable fillets to slip into my bra, final result being serviceable.

Doctor Blake – or whatever other title she preferred – caught me at the exit climbing gingerly out of a wheelchair.

“You do look very pretty,” she said, passing me a sheet of paper with a lot of book titles on it.

“Thank you, but I’m sure I look a sight.” I knew for a fact that I had quite a healthy bruise on the side of my face. Thick woollen tights covered the discolouration on my legs, even if my skirt didn’t quite reach that far, and my blouse and cardigan did a fair job of hiding the damage to my arms and torso.

“I’ve already spoken to a colleague near to your parents’ home and he should be in touch within a day or two.”

“Thank you.”

Mia was waiting by the car with a suitcase.

“I hate for you to go after the last conversation we had. You know I care about you, don’t you?”

I hugged her in response, even though it hurt when she hugged me back.

“I'll call you,” I said.

“Or I'll call you,” she replied. “I'm guessing you'll be asleep when I finish at the bar.”

“Tomorrow morning then.”

And we were in the car and gone.

To their credit, there were no recriminations from Mum and Dad, just sympathy and concern. I slept most of the way home then slipped into a loose nightdress before sleeping the rest of the afternoon. I woke long enough to join my folks for dinner then headed back to bed, pausing long enough to read Mia’s texts to me and to send her a few thoughts of my own.

“Stay away from Mia and James Williams!” the voice sounded clear in my head, startling me awake in the early hours of the morning. The voice had a slightly Asian accent to it but was otherwise muffled by the dark balaclava he was wearing. It was a clue at least. The bedside clock read three fifteen, so I settled down to sleep.

I woke again at six thirty. Knowing Mia to be an early riser, I texted her. My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

“What's up girlfriend?”

After due consideration that might have been girl friend, but either was okay right now.

“I had a dream,” I said, my own precaffeinated brain not fully functional

“Yeah, me too. I dreamed I was in bed with you.”

So maybe girlfriend after all.

“I dreamed of my attackers. It was more remembering what they said to me. When they ran off one of them told me to stay away from you and Jamie.”

“He said it like that?”

“No, more, ‘Stay away from Mia and James Williams.’ He sounded oriental.”

Mia swore quietly to herself. “I let Jamie have your keys. I thought he could do with some time away from his flatmates. I have to go. I need to check in on him.”

“Sure. Let me know when you find him.” Pronouns were always tricky with Jamie. When talking about him in his ordinary life we’d decided it would be safest to keep them matching.

I stumbled out of bed and made it down to the kitchen via my dressing gown and a short loo stop. By the time I arrived, Mum was bustling about.

“You're up early darling. Cup of tea?”

I'd have preferred coffee, but caffeine is caffeine and when in Rome... “That’d be lovely, Mum.”

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“I spent most of yesterday asleep Mum. I think I'm getting enough.”

“I thought I heard you in the night.”

“Bad dream. Didn’t last.”

“And was that Mia you were talking to just now?”

“Mhmm.”

She put a mug of tea in front of me the colour of brick dust. It was too hot yet for my delicate lips so I used it to warm my hands.

“You sounded worried.”

Nothing gets past Mum, especially not on her home turf.

“She’s worried about her brother. I asked her to call me when she knew he was alright.”

The call didn’t come though. My tea cooled to drinkable temperature and found its way down my throat and still no news. I texted Mia a string of question marks.

‘Bsy txt l8r’ came back, which did nothing to lower my anxiety.

I showered and dressed then, as much to distract myself as anything, I looked through the list of books Dr Blake had given me and hunted out the friendlier looking titles on Amazon. One or two of them had an affordable second hand option and free delivery, so I put in an order to be sent through to my parents’ address. By the time I was done, I was itching for news, so I sent another text to Mia.

This time she called. Her voice betrayed that she’d been crying.

“Mia?”

“Jamie was attacked last night,” she said through her sniffles. “I don’t know why, but she went out for a walk. It can only have been the same thugs, but they really laid into her. She was still lying in the road when I found her this morning. She’s in surgery now. No-one will tell me anything.”

“I take it you’re at the hospital. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No! No. You have your own mending to do. Mum and Dad are here so I’m not on my own.”

“I’m guessing they have a few questions about how Jamie was dressed.”

“Yeah. Mum’s all stony faced and Dad’s... Well, he’s not taking it too well either. Right now it’s all about Jamie though. I expect there’ll be words once we know he’s okay. Assuming he is okay.”

“Call me when you know anything, okay?”

“I will. I love you.”

It was the first time either of us had used the word. Sometimes it took a trauma like this to bring it to the surface.

“I love you too.” I said it because it was something she needed to hear, but also because it was true. I hung up the phone and went in search of Mum again, to tell her the news and to cry on her shoulder.

My phone rang mid-afternoon, but it wasn’t Mia. Instead it was the specialist Dr Blake had referred me to. We arranged a session for the following afternoon and I checked with Dad that he be okay taking me.

I didn’t hear from Mia until evening. Jamie was out of surgery and stable, but he was unconscious and not showing signs of waking up. His left fibula was broken, as were his right humerus and left ulna and radius. The left arm breaks were compound fractures and had taken a while in surgery to bolt back together. He had several broken ribs, similar but worse kidney damage and enough of a concussion that they’d given him an MRI scan to look for haematomas. They hadn’t found any, but Jamie’s brain had taken quite a severe bruising.

The first of the books arrived the following morning, but I didn’t feel much like reading. I didn’t particularly feel like going for my session when Dad reminded me, but it was too late to cancel.

I told Dr Clark about what had happened to Jamie, and he was sympathetic. He used the session to ask me to clarify a few things Dr Blake had put in her notes and I did my best. We arranged a second session for two days later and he sent me on my way with best wishes for Jamie’s recovery.

Mia’s brother was still unconscious two days later. The situation hadn't changed, but being removed from it with only sporadic communication from Mia, I found it hard to maintain a level of concern.

I was more focused during our second session which allowed Dr Clark to reach his own conclusions.

He steepled his fingers and regarded me over the top of the spire.

“You’re not going to be an easy one,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is you don’t fall neatly into any of the usual categories I deal with. If you did, the way ahead would be fairly straightforward.”

It felt like one of those times when you sit back and wait. More information would be forthcoming in time.

He sighed. “Gender isn’t an either or thing,” he said. “Physically it very nearly is which is probably why most people find it difficult to believe otherwise, but mentally and emotionally the situation is very different.

“We have a long unwritten list of what we consider to be feminine and masculine behaviour, but it's not exclusively either. For the most part it is predominately one thing or the other and that tendency is linked to certain structures that are hard wired into our brains. Does that make sense?”

I shrugged.

“When we look at male and female brains, we find physiological differences. Men tend to make use of more grey matter which may make them better at task focused behaviour. Women make use of more white matter which could make them better at communication and multitasking. Women have more connections side to side which could be why they’re better intuitive thinkers, while men have more connections front to back which improves perception and motor skills.

“These are genuine differences found in the majority of our brains and they do influence us, but just because they’re true in most people, doesn’t mean they’re true in all.

“The thing is, because brain structure influences behaviour, we do see and infer that certain behaviours are masculine or feminine, so we define behaviour in this way.

“For most of us,” he waved at himself, “this isn’t a problem. Most people have brains appropriate to their bodies and so they naturally behave in a way that everyone else considers appropriate. There are occasional crossovers – we talk about getting in touch with our feminine side for men, or inner man for women – but we make allowances for these, and for our tendency towards curiosity that might make us wonder what it’s like on the other side of the fence. For the most part though, men are real men and women are real women...”

“And small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri are real small furry creatures from Alpha Centaur?”

“Er, quite. Recent research has shown that in some cases certain individuals have slightly different genes that affect the amount of testosterone or oestrogen taken up by the brain during developmental years. It is quite literally possible for a man to have a female brain or vice versa, and this explains the vast majority of my patients. Their brain structure influences their natural tendencies and they are left with an overwhelming sense of belonging on the other side of the fence, but living in a society where the majority of those around them have an equally overwhelming sense that such behaviour is somehow wrong.

“For thes individuals, the best course of treatment is to alter their bodies as much as possible so they are better able to fit into the part of human society where they believe they belong, and so gender reassignment surgery has its place. It is unfortunately less effective in some cases than others, especially those where the passage of time has allowed sex hormones to make irreversible physical changes. These people – mainly men transitioning into women – struggle to fit into society even when we’ve done all we can, which is why a lot of us feel it’s important to identify transgender behaviour before puberty has a chance to make these changes.

“But we have to be cautious when doing this because mixed in with all the many variations in gender identity, there are individuals like yourself.”

I sat quietly with my hands folded in my lap and held the doctor’s gaze.

“These influences that decide on whether a brain develops in a traditionally masculine or feminine manner are, yet again, not an either or thing. In cases such as yours, a person can develop a mixture of both masculine and feminine characteristics, which can leave you with a need to express both at different times.

“You already mentioned that when you were growing up you felt a desire to dress as a girl from time to time. Tell me, after you had spent a day or an afternoon wearing a dress, did you feel content to return to being a boy?”

I nodded.

“And when you dressed in your mother’s clothes when you were younger, that felt like releasing a safety valve?”

I nodded again.

“And at any time since Christmas, since you have been dressing in this manner, have you felt yourself missing being a man?”

I hesitated. In the early days, when I’d had a choice between skirts and trousers, I’d occasionally laid both out and reached automatically for the skirts, but since Gangsta had invaded my place and wrecked most of my male clothes, since I’d had almost no choice, there had been a small niggling something.

The occasional afternoon when I needed to unload the deliveries, wearing dungarees had brought a small degree of relief, even though it felt like I was a girl dressing up as a guy, even though I looked more feminine than masculine, even though I was still wearing girls’ underwear, there was still something.

“A little,” I admitted.

He nodded and smiled with satisfaction. “Think about it as your holding two buckets, each of which has a leak. When you act in a way that is more masculine, the bucket for the male you is filled, and when you act as you are now, the bucket for the female you is filled. You are only content when both buckets are relatively full, so for you it is important to find a balance which allows you to fill both.

“If I were to encourage you to change all the way, to take female hormones, to undergo gender reassignment, I’m very much concerned that within a short while you would experience what is often referred to as buyer’s remorse. It’s something experienced by a lot of men who transition late because their transformation is never quite enough for them to feel satisfied with their appearance or for the people around them to accept them fully.

“In your case, it’s possible you could transition all the way and get by with having a tomboy side to you, but it’s also possible that it would be a step too far, so we have to move cautiously, only take steps we can reverse so to speak.”

“So, what are your thoughts?”

“Well, I’d like to explore your non-binary nature a little deeper to start with. I have a strong sense that you are leaning quite heavily towards the female side, so we probably won’t have to worry about too strong a masculine expression. I might suggest you find a way to present as a tomboy or other masculine form of woman and see if that’s enough to scratch your itch as it were. I’d also like to talk you through the pros and cons of feminising hormones, though I suspect you’ll be back under Dr Blake’s care when you get around to making that decision.

“So, that being said, perhaps we could arrange another meeting for two days time and between now and then I’d like you to explore the tomboy side of your gender. A little retail therapy, but no skirts this time. Something loose fitting so there’s less chance of you outing yourself. Don’t try to look like a man, but dress as a girl expressing a degree of masculinity. Does that make sense?”

I nodded.

“Fine. We’ll pick up next time and see what we can learn.”

We shook hands and I made my way out into the world. Dad had suggested I call him when I was done, but I had some shopping to do, so that could wait.

It wasn’t as easy as all that. I tried on a wide selection of jeans and slacks, but even baggy jeans and cargoes were only baggy in the leg and didn’t leave much space in the crotch. Even when I did find a pair that accommodated me, they didn’t look right because I didn’t have a narrow enough waist.

With an oversized hoody they looked okay, so I did buy them, along with another pair of dungarees and an oversized men’s shirt.

I rode the bus home because it was easier and had the pleasure of a young man standing up to offer me his seat. Exchange is no robbery and I offered him the pleasure of my grateful smile in return. From the way he blushed, I had the impression he was happy with his end of the deal.

The next couple of days I went grunge. No makeup and not very flattering clothes. There was no way, with my hairstyle, that anyone was going to see the man in me, but that didn’t matter, because the masculinity was on view and that was enough.

Mia and I video called each day. She approved of the temporary change and the steps I was taking, but her brother remained in a coma which meant her mind was elsewhere. Work was mad but manageable and Chris kept asking when I’d be back since in my absence he was having to step in behind the bar, and he was getting sick of suggestions that he should turn up in his birthday dress.

It was a great image. He’d looked cute enough at the party, especially when Mary had turned up. For my part, there had been no blood in my water for several days and the swelling in my scrotum had almost completely gone. My headaches were manageable with paracetamol and my parents’ doctor, who’d agreed to see me while I was visiting, had said I should be good to go home over the weekend and maybe take up light duties from the Monday.

Which meant that when I returned to Dr Clark on the Friday, that was going to be the last session I was going to have with him.

He also approved of the look – baggie jeans and hoodie when I visited him – and asked how I felt.

I’m not sure if he needed to ask since I had lounged back in the chair and was sitting far more relaxed than at either of our previous meetings. It did feel good, I told him, but I was already beginning to miss looking pretty.

“That’s just the sort of thing I was anticipating,” he said with a broad smile. “Now a little more honesty. How much would you miss it if you didn’t have the capacity to make love to your girlfriend?”

“Well, I haven’t really missed it much this week...”

“That’s different. You’re recovering from being attacked and I’m not sure who would feel that much like sex with the injuries you had.”

“Okay, well Mia suggested we take a break from that side of our relationship until I get a better handle on my gender identity, so I suppose I’m going to find out.”

“So let me raise an idea for you. Since you’re not going to be having sex for the foreseeable future, you can either deal with the urges that come to you, and the potential for people seeing you for what you are, or we could consider putting you on feminisation hormones, at least for a few months.

“The pros would be that you would experience a degree of feminisation of your body. No guarantees how much, but potentially more fatty tissue around your hips and bum, smoother skin, the possibility of growing your own breasts, though I’ll warn you, they’re almost certainly going to be smaller than what you have in your bra right now. Also, you’ll most likely feel a reduction in your libido. You may not be able to have an erection while you’re on them, which at least will mean you’ll find it easier to hide your male self, and you won’t feel the urge to climb into your girlfriend’s bed whenever the opportunity arises.”

“What are the cons?”

“Some potential health issues. Here’s a pamphlet listing them all, though at your age – you’re twenty-seven aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“At your age and level of fitness, they’re all pretty low risk. Possibly the biggest downside is the chance of infertility. We should be able to catch it before it goes that far, but there’s always a probability we don’t. We usually recommend gamete storage before going down this route so you have the option of having kids even if your equipment stops working.”

“A couple of days ago you were advising caution before going down this route.”

“I was, but then you came in here looking like a girl trying to look like a guy. Every bit of your body language is declaring that you feel relaxed and content and the only thing you have to grumble about is that you have to wear a hoodie with those jeans because you don’t look enough like a girl yet. I still think you’ll be happiest somewhere between fully male and fully female, but you could definitely do with looking a bit more female.”

“Let me think about it for a while.”

“That would be wise. When you’ve done your thinking you can talk to Dr Blake about it and add her input to what I’ve told you. I am probably pushing this a little faster than I normally would, but it’s only because I have a limited amount of time with you.

“Now you know what to do any time you miss being masculine, and since you don’t even have to be that much of a man to achieve it, why not consider becoming more the sort of person you’ve always envisaged yourself to be?

“Now, unless you have any more questions, I think we’re done here.”

“I don’t think so doctor. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“As long as you talk things through with Dr Blake before you act on any of them.” He reached out a hand and shook mine. “It’s been a pleasure, Ella. Don’t let anyone tell you who you should be. That’s entirely your choice.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that to heart.”

Mum was relieved when I put a dress on as soon as I arrived home. Dad less so, but I think he’d been hoping for some help in the garden. I helped Mum in the kitchen instead and she asked me about the sessions. I told her everything Dr Clark had said and she went very quiet for a while.

“Did we do wrong by you?” she asked.

It wasn’t a question I could leave hanging for long, and it deserved an honest answer.

“I’ll admit there were times I felt that was true, but when it comes down to it, I can see you acted in what you honestly believed to be my best interests.”

“But we still got it wrong.”

“It feels that way, but when I was a kid no-one knew anything about what it meant to be transgendered, except for those who were trans and most of them were keeping it hidden because they were afraid of the way everyone else would react. It wasn’t surprising that you thought it would be best for me to grow out of it.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, we still don’t know a lot about it. We think we understand it better and people like me have a way of trying to fix what feels off, but I’ve been reading a bit about it, and sometimes it seems the cure causes worse problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Dr Clark alluded to it in one of our sessions. It’s referred to as buyer’s remorse when a person goes through the changes they think are going to make them feel better and when it’s all done they actually feel worse.”

“Is that something that might happen to you?”

“Maybe. From my reading it’s linked to a lot of things. In some cases the affected individual isn’t happy with the final result. I mean, I’m already happy with how I look now...”

“You do look very pretty, dear.” There was some sadness in her eyes as she said it.

“In other cases it’s caused by the reaction of the people you love. Again, I can’t complain about how Mia sees me right now, although that might change if I go further, and I can see from the way you and Dad are responding that you’re finding this difficult.”

“We just want what’s best for you, sweetheart.”

“I know, but part of what's best for me is that you’re okay with this.

“Other factors include switching completely to the opposite gender then discovering at least a part of you wants a way back. That's why Dr Clark is suggesting I only take steps that can be reversed for now, and I think he's right. I don't think I'm entirely make it female but rather somewhere in between.”

“Oh! That doesn’t sound very good.”

“I think I can make it work. I'm happiest looking like this, but I'm not sure I want to lose all my masculinity. That's kind of okay because I'm in a relationship with someone who accepts me like I am, and nobody else I meet suspects in anything other than I appear.

“I think I'd like to see if I can make my body a little bit more girly looking, and if I end up with more girly feelings then that'll be an exploration as well. The last couple of days show that just dressing like a tomboy is enough to deal with any sense of wanting to go back to being masculine.”

“Oh, is that what that was about? I'm so relieved. I didn't really like to say anything, but I actually prefer you like this.”

“Well, I may feel the need to do it for a day or two every month or so, but this is the way I prefer to look.”

“You really are happier like this aren’t you? Even with people attacking you.”

“Yes Mum. Even after the attack I prefer this. And all the more reason to look more convincing so there’s less chance of being attacked in future.”

“Well, if it makes you happy, I suppose you have my blessing.”

“And mine.”

We spun to find Dad in the doorway. No idea how long he’d been there, but evidently long enough.

“It’s like your mother says, if it makes you happy, that’s the important thing.” He stepped into the kitchen and put an arm around Mum. “You were so down for such a long while you had both of us worried, and then you went and changed in this entirely bizarre and disturbing way, can you blame us for being concerned? But you’ve stuck with it for, what, nearly three months now? And you do seem much more content, so much more at peace with yourself and the world. Even when the world comes along and kicks the stuffing out of you. If this is what it takes to bring you back to life, then your mother and I will find our way to being happy for you.”

“Thanks Dad.”

Mum and Dad both saw me onto the coach home, and the parting was considerably more amicable than the previous one. As a parting gift they presented me with a new breast form breastplate. Mum had apparently snuck into my room while I was sleeping to measure the breast forms I’d rescued from my previous breastplate, then she’d gone back to the dodgy shop she’d used for my party dresses and ordered me a new one which was, if anything, slightly better endowed. A slight loosening of bra straps and it fit well enough though. It did mean I was back to feeling comfortable for the trip back.

Mia was waiting when the coach pulled in. Her embrace was a little more than simply friendly.

“Have you got bigger?” She said, looking down at my chest.

“Mum visited the kinky store again,” I said by way answer and planted a decidedly non-platonic kiss on her lips.

“I thought we were taking a break,” she said.

“The only reason we were taking a break was because you were worried it was keeping me from moving on. I’ve already spoken to a couple of gender therapists and on their advice I’m considering taking hormones, at least for a while. I think any concerns about me not moving on have been dealt with, and we could both do with a little bit more than friendship right now.”

“Tell me about these hormones.”

So I did, including the possible consequences for us. “I still need to talk it through with Dr Blake, who I saw once at the hospital before going to my folks’ place, but if you want to take advantage of my added extra before it all goes long-term floppy, I suggest we do something soon.”

“I came off the pill.”

“There are other means of protection.”

“They’re not so good for you.”

“I’ll manage.”

“I don’t have any in the flat.”

There was a chemist across the road so I steered her in that direction. The girl behind the counter gave us an odd look.

“They’re for me,” I said in my most girly voice. “I don’t want to get my girlfriend pregnant.”

The resulting confused look had both of us in hysterics. I paid for my purchase, tucked into my handbag and pulled Mia out of the shop, both of us fighting to control a combined fit of giggles.

Mia’s place was closer, plus she’d left my keys there. We were barely through the door before her hand disappeared under my skirt. She led me by my erection into her bedroom and we worked our way through half the box of latex before she had to get ready for work.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said giving a certain flaccid and overworked part of my anatomy a kiss. “But don’t you dare change your plans on my account. I will learn to live with whatever’s best for you. What are you going to do while I'm working?”

“I thought I’d go back to my flat while it was still light.”

“Okay.” She seemed a little disappointed but hunted my keys out of a drawer. “Text me to let me know you’ve arrived.”

“Sure.”

“Lunch here tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan since I don’t have anything in. With that in mind, I guess I should get up so I can do a shop on the way and still get home in the light.” I climbed out of bed and reached for my knickers and tights – the only bit of clothing Mia had removed from me – and wiggled my way into them. “What time should I come round tomorrow?”

“Well, I was planning on visiting Jamie in the morning...”

“Care for some company? I’d like to say hi too.”

“I think Mum and Dad may be there.”

“So why don’t I come anyway and if they’re there, I’ll go sit in the canteen and you can come find me when you’re done.”

“That would be unfair on you.”

“It isn’t about me. It’s about what’s best for Jamie and I whatever your mum has to say to me right now wouldn’t good for him.”

“But...”

“Look, I get to share breakfast with my favourite person in the world. I get to enjoy a long walk with her – I presume we’d be walking?” She nodded, the hospital was only a couple of miles away. “And I have a chance of visiting Jamie, so it’s all good.”

“Unless my parents are there.”

“In which case it’s mainly good, and what am I going to do with the morning otherwise?”

She shrugged.

“Breakfast at eight? I’ll bring the coffee?”

“I’m not sure they'll be open that early on Sunday. Just bring yourself. It's all I really want anyway.”

“I feel I ought to show up for work. I mean it is Saturday.”

“And Chris will be there. You're signed off till Monday so stay of until then. If you come back early and have a relapse...”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes you are.” She gave me a hungry smile. “And you’ll be even more fine on Monday. Unless you turn up at the pub before then, because I’ll kill you.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“And text me tonight.”

“When I get home with my luggage and again when I get home from the shops.”

Which was how it went. Food shopping was as mundane as ever, then I spent the rest of the day curled up on the sofa, and later in bed, with the second book from Dr Blake’s list. I had three more on order, the first of which turned up halfway through the afternoon.

I startled awake early with the remnants of a dream of being chased evaporating from my semi-conscious mind. It was still dark and cold beyond the safety of my duvet, so I snuggled down in the oasis of warmth and tried to fall asleep once more. I didn’t manage it, but lay peaking beyond my refuge as the dawn’s early light spread slowly through the room.

When I could see across the room I gave up on trying to sleep and made the transit from duvet to slippers and dressing gown. It was about six-thirty, which meant coffee time at least. The central heating kicked about the time the caffeine was leaking into my brain which made the rest of the morning less of a challenge.

Getting ready in girl mode always took such a lot longer, but it felt like I was building the me inside with every step I took to construct the me I presented to the world. It was an odd observation, but I felt so much more present in the world as Ella. The old me from before Christmas seemed so much of a distant memory I could scarcely remember anything about him. His name, his personality – not that he’d had much of one – even his appearance has blurred into an indistinct haze.

It didn’t matter. I’d incorporated his best parts into the current me and built on them until they were hidden. They remained as a foundation to who I was, but I was so much more now.

I left the flat at seven forty-five and made my way through deserted, frost covered streets to Mia’s flat.

Out of solidarity, she was wearing a skirt too. I warned her about the chill and she responded by giving me a coffee flavoured kiss, followed by a steaming mug of coffe of my own.

Breakfast consisted of blueberry pancakes with cream. Sunday was always a day off from dieting and all the more welcome for Mia’s ideas on how to take advantage of the hiatus. Besides, the half hour walk to and from the hospital should burn a sizeable amount of the excess calories.

As it turned out, it was more amble than power walk, so probably didn’t burn anything. It did help rekindle the feelings Mia and I shared, so much so that we were wrapped in each other’s embrace long before we reached the hospital’s main entrance.

I followed Mia up to Jamie’s ward but stopped short when I caught sight of her parents. Mia saw them about the same time.

“I’ll wait for you in the canteen,” I whispered. “If your parents leave first, come and fetch me, okay?”

She nodded and I backed out of the ward.

The canteen was considerably better than I'd come to expect from the NHS. The coffee was properly ground and brewed and the selection of pastries looked fresh enough to tempt me to buy one. After all it was Sunday and you might as well make full use of a day off from diets. I opted for a maple and pecan plait which turned out to be a good choice.

Small bites meant it lasted longer in the same way that small sips eked the coffee out for a good half hour. I’d brought my latest book with me and lost myself in its pages right up to the point when a shadow fell across me.

I looked up into a pair of oriental eyes set in a large face over a larger body. There was something familiar about the eyes and not in a nice way.

“What are you doing here?” The voice brought everything back. Between it and the eyes, I had no doubt who was addressing me.

“I came to visit a friend,” I said forcing my voice into a calm I didn’t feel.

“I don’t see anyone.” He made a show of looking around.

“Her family are visiting right now and I didn’t want to intrude. Anyway, I could ask you the same thing.”

He scowled. “It’s none of your business,” he grumbled.

“Then I suppose I could say that what I’m doing here is none of yours.”

“What are you reading?”

“Also none of your business. Now, would you mind leaving me alone, or should I say something to the people who run this place?”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“I find I don’t want to talk to you either, and if it comes down to deciding between two things I don’t want to do...”

I held his gaze for several seconds before he turned away. He walked back to a nearby table where two friends were waiting for him. It was hard to be sure but they looked a similar size to the shadowy figures I remembered.

I drained the last of my coffee and walked over to the counter for a refill. A middle-aged woman with beefy arms and a no nonsense expression refilled my mug and handed it to me.

“On the house love. I’ll be keeping an eye on those three. If they bother you again I’ll call security.”

“Thank you. Do you know them?”

“They’ve been here most days this week, usually about five thirty. Otherwise no. I haven’t noticed them bothering anyone else before today either. I don’t know what they’ve got against you, but maybe find somewhere else to sit, eh?”

She nodded at a table closer to the counter. It would be noisier, but she was probably right.

“I will, and thanks again.”

The beefy lad who’d confronted me glowered across the room at me, but my self-appointed guardian angel glowered back at him. Detente of a sort.

I went back to my book and made it halfway through before another shadow fell across me. This time it was Mia smiling down at me.

“Sorry it’s been so long. Mum and Dad wanted to talk.”

I looked across to where the trio had been sitting, but they were gone.

“Could we pop in on him quickly now?”

“Well, his flat mates dropped by, it’s what gave me a chance to duck out.”

“Let me guess. Pretty big Chinese looking guy and two others slightly smaller?”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“I think I met them.”

“Could you sound any more ominous? Come on, let’s go get some lunch. I’m starving.”

There were mouth-watering aromas leaking through the door to Mia’s apartment when we made it back. She’d prepared almost everything before we left and all that was left to do was lay the table.

“So, talk to me,” she said around her first mouthful of roast lamb. “You’ve been lost in thought since we left the hospital.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“And it’s probably not. Come on. Speak to me.”

“I think I may have recognised one of my attackers.” I wasn’t quite ready to share the full truth.

“What? That’s huge? How come?”

“I think I recognised his voice, and his eyes. Do you think the police would go with that as a positive identification?”

“Probably not, but you could ask. It may depend on how sure you are and how convincing. Did he recognise you?”

“Oh yeah! If it was who I thought it was.”

“Sounds like to me. Do me a favour? Stay here tonight?”

“I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“My wardrobe is your wardrobe. Please Ella. If they did recognise you they may wait for you again.”

“Maybe I should call the police.”

“Yeah, do that as well, but don’t go out yourself. Please.”

“Okay. All I was going to do today was read and I can do that here as easily as at my place.”

“I’m sure I can think of a few things we can do when I get back.”

“I already said yes. When does Chris want you to come in?”

“Half an hour maybe. Why?”

“I was wondering if maybe you could give me a preview of some of those things before you go. I’ll do the dishes.”

“Temptress.”

I ended up doing the dishes and Mia was a few minutes late.

I also grew bored of reading, so I cleaned the apartment. I mean it didn’t really need it but I needed something to do. I did put a call in to the police and explained that I thought I’d recognised one of my assailants from a week ago and I was worried they might try to ambush me again. I told them where it had happened before and the offered to send a patrol car down there.

When I’d done everything I could think of, I decided to take Mia at her word and passed a few hours trying on her things. She had a lot of skin tight jeans and trousers which I couldn’t hide my bits well enough to wear effectively, though I did settle on a pair of sparkly leggings and a long woollen top that reached to mid-thigh. The winter boots I’d been wearing finished the look nicely.

As evening wore on, I took advantage of her shower and changed into one of her sexier nightdresses, leaving the leggings and woollen top for the following day

She found me curled up in bed having fallen asleep over the last chapter of the book. She eased it out of my hands then undressed enough to wake me in the most agreeable manner ever.

This was followed by a short conversation about nothing in particular over a couple of mugs of hot chocolate and a little more vigorous bedroom aerobics before we finally fell asleep in each others arms.

The police had asked me to drop into the station the following day so following a leisurely morning and late breakfast, I headed down for yet another chat.

It turned out one of their patrols had disturbed a small group of youths in the alley, but they’d run off when challenged.

They asked me to describe the person I claimed to have recognised and confirmed the general height and build were consistent, but overall there wasn’t enough evidence to take it further.

Between the police and my first day back at the pub, I called Dr Blake and she agreed to see me the following afternoon.

The Holiday Inn gave me a warm welcome back, especially Chris who was more than ready to bow out of bar duty. Despite a relatively slow evening, I ended up with a well handled rear and a generously full tip jar, both of which counted as signs of support and solidarity from the locals.

Tuesday morning, I decided I liked the clothes I’d borrowed from Mia enough that I went out and splurged my tips on several similar outfits, one of which I wore to the hospital for my session with Dr Blake. She’d been in contact with Dr Clark and handed me my first prescription for hormones. She also sent me over to a different part of the hospital where I was provided with a few pornographic magazines to encourage me to produce enough of my sperm for them to freeze for future use. The only way the porn worked for me was if I imagined myself as one of the girls in the pictures. That felt oddly backwards that the only way I could behave as a man was to imagine I wasn’t one. Material for a future session with Dr Blake I decided.

There’s a magic to women’s clothing. Dress pretty enough and all eyes are on you, but dress different enough and, despite the attention, it’s not you they see.

Once I’d collected my prescription from the hospital pharmacy, I headed for the canteen and settled into a quiet corner with a magazine and something to drink.

After about half an hour, my patience was rewarded the two lesser thugs walked in, bought drinks and settled down to wait. Ten minutes later my chief assailant joined them. He took more care to look around the room, but his eyes slid across mine without showing any recognition.

Another fifteen minutes and yet another figure walked in that I recognised. Short, slender, middle aged with long dark hair and as much an oriental face as the larger of the three. They stood the moment she arrived and followed her out.

I was almost too shocked to react, but I gathered my wit’s enough to follow them, catching up with them just as the lift doors closed.

The stairwell was close by and Jamie's ward only four flights up. Thankful of the low heels on my boots and the freedom of movement granted by the rest of my clothes, I bounded up the stairs and managed to find a secluded spot before the lift arrived.

Sue-Lin led the three goons out of the lift and straight into Jamie’s room. I didn’t know what they were planning and I’ll admit, I didn’t really think. Fearing some manner of worst, I strode forward and pushed in behind them.

Mia’s mother’s eyes narrowed when she recognised me.

“What are you doing here? You did this. You did this to my son!”

She made enough noise to attract several passing nurses, at least one of whom was hefty and male.

“I’m sorry, we can’t have you disturbing the ward like this,” he said. “You have to leave.”

“I’m his mother!”Sue-Lin protested.

“I don’t care who you are, you’re disturbing the peace. Go now before I call security to have you removed.”

I was already backing towards the stairs, though second thoughts had me thinking how easy it might be to have an accident going down them in the wrong company. I changed direction and called for a lift.

Sue-Lin and her entourage joined me as the lift arrived. As luck – bad luck – would have it, we were the only five waiting to make use of it and I didn't really have much choice but to step in with them.

They didn't make much of a secret of their anger, turning on me as the doors closed.

They weren't the only ones who were angry though. I looked the largest of them in the eyes.

“Stay away from Mia and James Williams,” I snarled at him, dropping into my male voice and doing a passable impression of him.

He recoiled as much as he could in the cramped confines of the elevator and I rounded on Sue-Lin.

“This was you.” My voice had a tendency to snap into the female register by default. “You’ve already made it clear what you think of me, but you told Jamie’s flat mates to teach me a lesson, didn’t you?”

“His name is James,” she snarled.

“Her name was Jamie when Mia lent her my flat keys last weekend.”

Her rage faltered and guilty looks were exchanged all round.

“I imagine you thought it was me you were kicking on Saturday,” I said to the guys, “at least at first. I can’t believe there wasn’t some point when you didn’t realise who you were attacking.”

The big one glanced furtively at Mia’s mother. “It was dark in that alley. We couldn't really see.”

“Shut up!”

“And you,” I rounded on her. “Are you more upset about your son being in a coma or about the way he was dressed when Mia found him?”

“It was you! You make him like this!”

“I hate to shatter the illusion, but it was Jamie who spent Christmas with Mia and me. Just three girls together.”

“You!” She raised a hand to strike, but the lift binged at that moment. I pushed my way out past hulking brutes to stunned to resist. Only Sue-Lin might have responded, but she wasn’t ready to do anything in public.

They followed me out of the lift, but there were quite a few people about and I kept with the crowd.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and dialled in three nines.

“Hello. Police please. The three people who attacked me last week are here and I’m afraid what they might do to me.”

I said it loud enough for quite a few nearby strangers to here. In true British fashion they gave me angry looks that I should have the temerity to involve them in my problems and hurried on. Fortunately for me there was a couple of security guards by the main entrance who decided that perhaps this was their problem. They approached and persuaded Sue-Lin and the others to move on.

I relayed this to the person on the phone and was told to stay on the line and remain with the security guards until a police car arrived.

Less than two minutes and a blue flashing light appeared outside. One of the policemen took my phone from me for long enough to end the call. I told them I’d be happy to come down to the station with them to make a statement. None of the four who’d threatened me were anywhere to be seen, but there was nothing to keep them from sneaking back out of the woodwork as soon as the coast was clear.

I texted Mia from the back of the patrol car – ‘Call me! Urgent!!’ and sat back to wait. We had a policy of not answering phones while working, so the text would have to do until...

My phone buzzed, less than a minute since my text. Aware the police were listening, I kept it short and relatively cryptic.

“I bumped into them again at the hospital,” I said to her. “I’m on my way to the police station. Call your mum.”

“Are you okay?”

“A bit shaken, but otherwise fine. Public places, you know.”

“Why should I call Mum?”

“She was there too.”

“Are you saying she’s involved?”

“I think so. It’s what I’m going to say when I make my statement.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Could you let me have Jamie’s address?”

“I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

The interview took several hours, most of which I spent waiting. They took my phone from me when I arrived at the station, which meant I didn’t have much to do when they weren’t talking to me. The reason it took so long was that, following my initial interview, they had dispatched cars to pick up Jamie’s mother and flat mates. They had been interviewed separately, as had Mr Williams who’d come in voluntarily.

Around ten o’clock they announced that I could go. Jamie’s three flat mates were being detained pending further investigation, but Sue-Lin was being allowed to go. Mia’s parents were signing something as I was led out of the interview room. Sue-Lin stiffened prompting her husband to turn.

“Ella,” he smiled. “Can we offer you a lift?”

“David!” Sue-Lin hissed.

“It’s late, darling. We can hardly expect her to walk home alone at this time of night.”

“That’s alright Mr Williams. The immediate threat’s been taken care of.”

“Nonsense. I won’t hear of it.”

“Well, if you could drop me at the pub, I’d be grateful.”

“Isn’t it your night off?” He asked. “I’m sure Mia said something about you having Tuesdays off.”

“It is, but I don’t really want to be alone this evening.”

“I thought your boss didn’t like it if you came in on a night off,” Sue-Lin said.

“He doesn’t but he’ll have to lump it this evening.”

“You could come back with us if you prefer,” David said. “You could text Mia to let her know and we’ll drop you home when you’re ready.”

“I didn’t think I’d be that welcome after today.”

“Well, if I’m going to be honest, I haven’t much clue what’s going on here, and I’d be grateful for any light you can shed on the situation.”

I looked at Sue-Lin, whose eyes were narrowed to slits. No racial slur intended.

“And if I’m going to be honest, I really think the explanation would be best coming from your wife. I feel I’ve caused enough damage for one day.”

“Well, if you’re sure, Holiday’s Inn is on our way home so it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, sir. I mean David.” I turned to Sue-Lin and quirked an eyebrow. She smiled back, but it was thin lipped and without warmth. Back to David I said, “If you still want my side of the story, give me a call in a couple of days.”

The ride to the Inn took less than five minutes. It would have taken twenty by foot. I received a few cheerful greetings from the punters, an angry scowl from Chris and a look of concern from Mia.”

A small but familiar group of customers waved me over. “Looking good Ella. I must say I prefer it when your showing off your pins, but you’re still looking pretty fine.”

I joined them and accepted the drink they bought for me, Mia delivering it with a ‘what do you think you’re doing’ look on her face.

I stuck with the one table long enough to buy them a round of drinks, then wandered from one table to the next carrying a drink to fend off any other offers. It made a difference chatting to these people I saw most nights without feeling obliged to rush off. I was surprised at how many of them thought I really was a girl and had ‘known it all along’, even when I’d been going through my ‘tomboy phase at the start.’ I suppose we tell ourselves the stories we want to hear in order to make sense of things.

Mia really didn’t need my help, but when the place finally closed, I stopped behind to help clear up.

“I hope you don’t think I’m paying you for tonight,” Chris said as I heaved chairs onto tables.

“Just helping so Mia can get out of here sooner rather than later.”

It did save us maybe fifteen minutes. Mia grabbed her coat and dragged me out while Chris was fumbling for his keys.

“Sorry,” I said as we headed for her place. “I didn’t want be alone.”

“That’s okay, but spill. What happened today. I like the outfit by the way. Very you.”

“Thanks. What did your mum say earlier?”

“Nothing. She wanted to know why I was calling. What’s going on?”

“Well, you know I was going for a session with Dr Blake?”

“Yeah, how did that go?”

“Really well, but I’ll tell you about it later. You remember what I told you about what happened in the canteen?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, since I was already there, I figured I’d wait a while to see if they’d turn up. Well they did, then your mum joined them.”

“What!?”

I took her through the details, right the way through to our leaving the police station. When we reached her flat halfway through the story, I just followed her in and accepted the mug of hot chocolate when she handed it to me.

“So you’re saying my mum...”

“I don’t know how involved she is, but the bigger of Jamie’s flat mates...”

“Lee.”

“Sure, Lee, he spoke to your mum as though she was involved in the attacks.

“After that Sunday round at your parents’, you know what she thought of me.”

“Yeah, but do you really think she would get Lee and the others to attack you?”

“’Stay away from Mia and James Williams.’ If Jamie’s flat mates were acting on their own, do you think they’d have mentioned you?

“Also, if it was their idea, why did they start a couple of weeks ago? What changed with Jamie that might have prompted the attack?”

“Well, he did start voice training with you.”

“I suppose. Do you think I’m wrong then?”

“Not necessarily. What did you tell my dad?”

“That it would be better coming from his wife, but he could call me in a couple of days if he wanted to know more. I told the police everything though, so it’ll come out eventually.”

“I guess we just wait and see then. Tell me about your session with Dr Blake.”

I dug the pills out of the bag and showed her. She smiled a little sadly.

“I guess we should make the most of tonight then. We still have half a packet of condoms. What say we get the most out of them before they’re no use to us anymore? You can start those in the morning.”

We changed and worked our way through the rest of the packet, Mia becoming progressively more adventurous with her approach to our coupling and even reintroducing her strap on for some of it. It made sense since that was likely to feature more frequently in any future bedroom encounters. In fact I added one to my own mental shopping list before we were done.

Morning came and I took the first of my pills over breakfast. We made something of a ceremony of it with Mia handing it to me, sort of giving her permission to start.

Unsurprisingly, nothing much happened. I felt a slight change to my emotions, but little else.

The rest of the week passed without incident. It may have been my imagination, but unloading the delivery on Thursday felt like it took more of an effort than usual. By Friday, I had a sense my skin was starting to feel a little smoother and my chest area was itchy and more sensitive.

Saturday was usually the busiest day of the week, and with a match to go up on the screen in the afternoon, the place packed out. Chris chose to make his announcement of the pub going on the market before the kick off. This at least meant the football was there to distract from the bad news, not that many people seemed to care. He also announced a special treat for March. With Easter due in early April, he’d decided that the bar would be tended by a couple bunny girls for a full month running up to the celebration. However long it took for the sale of the bar to go through, he fully intended to go out on a high. This news was received with a lot more enthusiasm by everyone except Mia and me.

“Call it payback for what you pulled on my birthday,” he said as we put the pub to bed in the small hours. He showed us pictures of the costumes he’d ordered and they weren’t cheap, especially if you priced in cost per square yard of material, not that there seemed to be much more than one of those. Square yards I mean, and most of that taken up in the very short ruffled skirt.

It was strapless, so I’d need the breastplate to keep it up. He’d added fishnet tights and very tall heels to the basic costume and, while the choker would do to hide the join between latex and skin, he hadn’t thought about where my arms emerged from it. At Mia’s suggestion he added a couple of mesh tops with long fishnet sleeves.

“You’re not going to skimp on the heating if we do this,” Mia said.

I nodded, for once glad that the hormones would keep my little guy from poking out.

By the time the costumes arrived and I put mine on for the first time, my skin had become noticeably smoother and my hips and rear end had begun to fill out nicely. I also had noticeable growth in the breast area, but nowhere near enough to keep the costume up. The breastplate would have to do for now, but Mia insisted on playing with the real me when we were off duty. She’d been right all those months ago when she’d said I’d enjoy her attention so much more with real boobs. It was a whole new experience of wonderful and so much better than anything I’d felt as a man. Mia might have been missing my little guy, but I wasn’t.

About mid March I moved out of my flat and into hers. She still didn’t like me walking the extra half mile on my own in the dark, and we seemed to be growing closer the more like a girl I became.

Chris found a buyer and exchange of contracts would take place shortly after Easter. The bunny girl scheme had us worked off our feet seven days a week and Chris was just about breaking even despite the mortgage repayments. The evident success of the pub attracted a lot of bids and we were delighted with the final price the place fetch. Chris in particular, but it did mean that the change of hands bonus he’d promised us was considerably more generous than he’d first anticipated.

The new owners had expressed an interest in Mia and me staying on after the exchange of contracts, but they hadn’t yet told us what they were prepared to offer us, so we were still considering options.

April also brought the legal proceedings against Lee and his friends to a head. The attacks on me and then Jamie both counted as grevous bodily harm, with the threat of manslaughter still threatening since Jamie remained unresponsive. This meant criminal proceedings so no choice but to go to trial, however the evidence was quite tenuous and relied largely on my ability to convince a jury that I could positively identify my attackers from the build, eyes and voice of my principal assailant. The prosecution solucitors weren’t convinced they’d be able to make the charges stick. On advice from their own lawyers, Lee and his friends weren’t offering any confessions so the best chance of justice involved proving a connection with Sue-Lin, which would prove messy for Mia’s family.

David and Sue-Lin engaged their own legal defence and in an effort to settle things before they went too far, a meeting was arranged with all concerned parties. I agreed to it only if Mia could be present too.

David hadn’t taken me up on my offer to share my side of the story. The look he gave me suggested that his wife had persuaded him of my malicious intent. Certainly Mia had mentioned several attempts both her parents had made to draw her away from me.

Unusually, a judge was present, but the meeting was held behind closed doors. Nothing would go on record as a result of the meeting, but it could be incorporated into a trial should one follow.

The spotlight inevitably fell on me and I gave as complete and honest a report of what had happened since December as I could manage. Chris was asked to contribute, which he did reluctantly but truthfully. Mia also had her say, but in the end it came down to me.

I described my encounter with Lee in the hospital canteen, and the exchange that had occurred in Jamie’s room and the lift. I talked about the things Sue-Lin had said to me on the one time I’d visited Mia’s parents. I was allowed to speculate as to what it all meant and, whilst I could see I was falling short of convincing the legal professionals, I was getting through to David. It didn’t help Sue-Lin’s case that she sat stony faced through the whole proceedings.

In the end, the verdict upheld by the judge – and agreed to by the prosecution – was that, despite the compelling quality of my testimony, there was insufficient evidence to take the case to trial. The charges were serious, yes, but that meant they had to be certain they were being brought justly.

On the way out, David caught my elbow and drew me to one side. “Perhaps we should have a quiet word sometime.”

“Anytime, as long as I’m not working.”

“Tomorrow morning okay for you? There’s a coffee shop near Mia’s flat isn’t there?”

It was Mia’s and my place, but not worth quibbling. I agreed to meet him there at nine the following morning.

I’d invested in a few smaller bras to wear any time I felt like going without the breastplate, and this was one of those days. I put on a loose fitting blouse over the top and skirt with woollen tights underneath. A long, grey cardigan and my winter boots topped it all off.

I let myself out of the flat leaving Mia to sleep and walked the short distance to the coffee shop.

David stood as I entered and waved me into the seat opposite.

“You look different,” he said waving for a waitress.

“No melons,” I answered thrusting my smaller but genuine breasts out for him to see.

“I meant to say you actually look more feminine. And you look better with a more modest size.”

“Thank you. Er, latte please.” The last was to the waitress who’d just hustled over to our table.

“Same for me.” David already had an empty coffee cup in front of him.

“How long have you been waiting?” I asked.

“Half an hour or so. I came early. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say.”

“I’m not sure there is anything to say.”

“I disagree. I should have taken you up on your offer, but Sue-Lin can be very persuasive sometimes. I think if I’d heard your side before today, that meeting would have gone very differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“My wife and I had a long and very heated discussion last night. She spent most of it accusing me of not believing her and not trusting her in her shrillest of voices.” He smiled sadly. “Cross cultural marriage is difficult sometimes. In China to trust is often called more than truth, and I've learnt to go along with it most of the time, but there are times when I can’t accept that and she's had to learn to recognise when I put my foot down.

“She admitted it in the end. Lee has the same background as her so it wasn’t hard for her to convince him to take action against you, or for him to get his two friends on his side.

“She knew it was them that attacked James... Er, Jamie, but it wasn’t until we confronted them yesterday that they admitted to recognising who they were kicking and being so affronted that it was their flatmate dressing like that that they lost control.

“I’m taking them to the police station later today so they can make a full confession, my wife as well for her part in this.”

“They’ve been acquitted though.”

“Now they’ve admitted it, it would be shameful for them not to accept the consequences of their actions. I’ve given them until lunchtime to make whatever arrangements they feel appropriate before resolving this.

“What I’d really like to know is what I can do to make amends for what you’ve gone through.”

The coffees arrived. I held mine in both hands for the warmth it would give and thought.

“Will it change them?” I asked.

“What?”

“Surrendering to the authorities, confessing their crimes, accepting the punishment. Will it change their attitude towards people like Jamie and me?”

“Probably not. The shame they feel is more from being caught than anything else.”

“Could I speak with them, do you think?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know that it’ll make any difference.”

“It’ll make a difference to me that I at least tried.”

“I don’t feel I’m in a position to deny you anything, so okay, we can try. Anything else?”

“I’d like to visit Jamie.”

“You haven’t been to see him yet?”

“The first time I went with Mia you and Sue-Lin were already there. The second time, she was there with Lee and his friends and she made such a fuss when I went in I figured I’d be turned away if I tried again.”

“Well of course. We should go now, or at least before you confront the others.”

“Alright. If it’s alright, I’d like to try something.”

I explained my thoughts. He seemed sceptical but agreed to try.

“Anything else?”

“Well, you know Chris is selling the pub.”

“I had heard, yes. I can’t say I’m upset. I’ve never liked the idea of Mia working in a place that objectifies women.”

“Well, it’s meant that we both have to give some thought to our future. Mia suggested we invest in ourselves a little.”

“Oh yes?”

“She quoted your views on education and suggested we get some. I don’t know what she has in mind for herself, but I’m quite keen on becoming a spokesperson for people like myself.”

“You'd be really good at that.”

“Mia thinks so too, but to do it properly I need to understand what it means a lot better than I do. I was wondering if I might pick your brains about how to go about that.”

“Of course, I'm sure we can sort something out. I’ll ask my secretary to set something up. Your day off is Tuesday, isn't it?”

“Yes, but I usually have a session with Dr Blake in the afternoon.”

“So we’ll make it happen in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“I feel I ought to thank you. You're being very reasonable. Far more so than most people I know under the circumstances.”

He drove me back to the flat where I collected a few of Jamie’s things as well as a few of mine, particularly a bottle of perfume I knew she'd really liked. From there we drove to the hospital where the nursing staff, after David had confirmed I was acting with his consent and approval, helped me change Jamie and her environment. A vase of roses, a splash of perfume on the collar of her nightdress, a floral duvet cover over the hospital blankets, a rather cheap doll I bought on impulse from the hospital gift shop tucked into bed with her.

“Jamie?” I said in my lightest voice. “It’s alright, you’re safe now. The only people here are those who love you. The real you I mean, not that guy you've been pretending to be. Jamie, we love you. Won’t you come back to us?”

She lay still and unmoving. I stroked her cheek, tucked a strand of hair out of the way.

“Your dad’s here, Jamie. He’d really love to meet his other daughter.”

Was it my imagination or was that the vaguest hint of a creased brow? I waved David over, surrendering my place to him. I waved a hand encouraging him to say something.

“Jamie? It’s Dad. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I never knew. Won’t you come back? I love you,” he faltered and looked at me uncertainly. I waved frantically for him to continue. I was looking for any sign of response. “My darling daughter, I miss you. I’ve never met you but I do want to.”

Nothing. Still it had been worth a try.

“Hey Jamie, we’re not giving up on you. We’ll be back later. Just remember, when you do speak, use your voice.”

David squeezed her hand. She looked more comfortable with the lace collar of her nightie peaking out from beneath the sheets.

“If her mother comes on the ward, don’t let her in,” David said to the nurse. “We’ll be back later.”

Back in the car, he smiled over at me. “It was a good idea, Ella, but he’s been... I mean she’s been gone for a while now. The doctors are telling us to prepare for the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

”We’re not there yet. Right, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I think so. Let’s go see Lee and his friends.”

It was one of the friends who opened the door, but he wasn’t happy to see me standing there.

“You said we had until lunchtime,” he said to David.

“I did and I meant it, but Ella asked if she could talk to you.”

He turned away but he left the door open. It was as much of an invitation as we were going to get.

“What do you want?” Lee said when I appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“Just to talk.”

“We’ve nothing to say to you.”

“Alright, perhaps you’ll listen then.”

He shrugged. The others seemed just as disinterested.

“I’m intrigued that you felt justified in what you did to me, and to Jamie.”

Lee turned a hard stare my way. His face showed no emotion and his eyes were pits of unforgiveness.

“Do you really hate me so much? Just for trying to be happier?”

“Men should be men,” he said with the same impassive expression.

“So, you judge me for doing something you think is wrong. You won’t try to understand why I feel the need to behave as I do?”

All three of them stared at me with the same stony intransigence. Lee was the only purely Chinese one among them, but in that combined stare revealed the Orient in all of them.

“And you feel justified in putting your friend in a coma.”

If ever there were three immoveable objects. Well, I was far from being an irresistible force yet.

“Alright. My father would appreciate the justice. If you’re not prepared to give a little, you don’t deserve to get, even a little. I’ll leave you to your inflexible justice.”

We left.

“I doubt you’ll get any further with Sue-Lin,” David said as he started the car.

“You may be right, but let’s give it a try.”

“I’m learning to appreciate you a great deal, Ella. I believe I can see what Mia sees in you, and I really hope you two find a way to stay together.”

“I grateful for your saying that, Mr Williams. I rather hope we do as well.”

Mrs Williams sat upright and very still on the sofa. She barely acknowledged our arrival. I suspected she would have to work towards forgiving her husband for forcing her into telling the truth.

I sat in the chair opposite and looked ahead, equally silent, equally – well I hoped – impassive. She tried to keep her eyes averted, but there weren’t many places she could look where I was completely out of her view. I took some satisfaction in the growing hints of annoyance in her eyes. For one thing, she deserved a little comeback for her actions, for another, I was going to have to crack the façade if I were going to get anywhere with her.

“Do you admit no fault in all this?” I asked when the time felt right.

“What do you mean? You started all this with your perverse ways.”

“So you choose to believe.”

“You'll say anything to avoid blame.”

“Funny. That's just the accusation I was bringing against you. You know nothing about me and yet you have decided what I am like.”

“Tell me something I don't know then.”

“Before Christmas I spent nearly five years trying to live as a man. I tried my hardest to suppress this side of me and as a result I almost became a no-one. I knew Mia for almost a year before circumstances put me in a dress and it was only then she discovered something in me she thought worth getting to know.”

She pursed her lips with distaste.

“What your daughter saw in me, what attracted her to me in the first instance, was the something she had already seen in her brother, who she referred to as her sister Jamie.

“The circumstances that resulted in me spending Christmas with Mia, and doing so in a dress, were almost beyond my control, though I’ll admit I was glad of it.

“Mia gave me a dress for Christmas. In style it matched both the dress she wore on that day and the dress she gave to Jamie. We spent Christmas as three young women, each of us by choice. The hard thing for Jamie was at the end of the holiday when he had to put his male persona back on.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’re choosing not to believe it, but when I visited, you asked me if I had any insights into your son’s depression. If you recall, I suggested you should talk to him.”

“You think I didn’t.”

“At least part of the reason for that visit was a trial to see how you would react to me. If, as was the case, you rejected me out of hand, then all I would have lost was a connection with my girlfriend’s family. He had so much more to lose, so your reaction to me was a sort of sounding board, an idea of what he could expect. When you rejected me so completely, you told him he could not talk to you about this.”

“You’re attempting to shift your blame onto me.”

“And you’re attempting to avoid facing your responsibility in what happened.”

“What responsibility?”

“Your inability to accept the girl in your son. Your unpreparedness to question the traditions of your culture condemned him to a life of pretending to be a man...”

“He is a man.”

“Talk to your husband about the new truths medical science and genetics are uncovering about the nature of gender. Ancient tradition from all cultures is steeped to some extent in ignorance.”

“You insult my culture?”

“The truth shines an unflattering light on all cultures. It is a painful truth to learn, but one which needs to be faced before you can move forward...”

“Into the abyss, into the chasm, into chaos.”

“Sometimes you need a little chaos in order to tear down what should never have been built, but people like yourself who are too rigidly held by your traditions will allow nothing to be taken away.

“Instead you dig in your feet and push back. You became so incensed with me and the insult to your beliefs I represent that you chose to take action. You approached Jamie’s...”

“James’s...”

“...flatmates who shared enough of your traditional beliefs that you were able to convince them to attack me, not once but twice and to leave me with a message to leave your children alone. When I didn’t, you sent them out again without realising that you were sending them to attack your own child.

“Jamie...”

“James.”

“...is in a coma right now because you made it impossible for him to talk to you about what was tearing him apart, and because you sent out a group of thugs to cause serious harm to anyone like him.”

“He is not like you.”

“No, of course not. Mia lent him the keys to my flat so he could get some alone time while I was with my parents recovering from your goons attention. I suppose it was the influence of my decadent lifestyle that prompted him to put on a dress – one of his own incidentally, not mine – and go for a walk outside.”

A tear escaped from one of her eyes and trickled down a cheek, other than that she showed no signs of emotion. Not in her face, not in her voice. I had to admire her self control and felt an inkling of concern that maybe I was pushing her too hard.

A phone rang. David answered it in the other room. He appeared in the doorway.

“Slow down sweetheart. Say that again.” His eyes grew wide. He stabbed the button to hang up the phone. “That was Mia. Jamie’s awake.”

We may have broken a few laws on our way to the hospital, but someone was watching over us and kept us off any police radar. We arrived on the ward to find Jamie sitting up in bed chatting with her sister. She gave me a grin when she caught sight of me. “Girl voice,” she said making good use of it.

David ran straight to her and threw his arms around her. Sue-Lin stopped in the doorway and looked on, taking in the nightdress with its lace collar, the cheap doll hugged tightly in Jamie’s arms, the gently scent of perfume permeating the room.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” I said quietly. “I know it goes against all your beliefs, but yesterday you didn’t know if your son would live or die, today you have a daughter and she needs you. Can you not be her mother now and maybe work on the rest tomorrow?”

A second tear escaped from her eye. She nodded and stepped into the room.

Easter came and went, taking the bunny costumes with them, or rather transferring them to Mia’s and my wardrobe. Maybe there would be a party sometime in the future when we might want to use them again, or maybe they’d hang there until the day we rediscovered them and went for a wander down nostalgia lane.

The sale went through and Mia and I politely declined the less than attention grabbing offer the new owners made us to stay on. The place was due to close down for several weeks for its corporate makeover, but in the meantime we had one last night to celebrate. Chris hunted around for a theme until I suggested ‘the real you.’

“We’ve been olde worlde wenches, naughty nuns, little girls in party frocks...”

“Don’t remind me.”

“... Playboy bunny girls. It’s all been somebody else’s fantasy and these,” I pointed at my oversized falsies, “have been the biggest fantasy of all. Wouldn’t it be nice to end it all by showing each other who we really are?”

“I’m not sure how that would go.”

“No, me neither, but isn’t that part of the fun? Try something new and see what comes of it? Besides, all this time has been about us pretending to be something for them. I like the idea of turning things about and making the last night about them showing us something real about who we’ve been working for all this time.”

Chris shrugged and did what he always does, he passed the buck. A quick straw poll of our regulars suggested they liked the idea.

For Mia and me it meant we had the choice of dressing conservatively, and for me it meant doing without the breastplate which was becoming progressively more uncomfortable to wear as the hormones continued to work on my body.

The last week we reprised everyone’s favourite costumes of the previous few months which took us right the way up to the Friday night, Saturday being the Holiday’s Inn closing night.

Friday night I took my artificial breasts off for the last time and gave them a good sponging down before packing them away. Mia and I snuggled into bed. She played with my now very little chap who showed no signs of waking up.

“Do you think if he’ll ever come back to us?”

“My doctor thinks there’s a good chance, but we agreed to give the hormones a good three months.”

She transferred her attention to my chest. “You’ll be bigger than me by then.” My body definitely liked the hormones.

“Would that bother you?”

“No, not at all. More for me to play with.”

“Your hands aren't big enough.”

“What?”

“Something I heard once. More than a handful’s a waste.”

“Never a waste if you can make them do this.” She did something that left me gasping with my nipples erect.”

“We need to be up early tomorrow. Remember? Jamie’s coming round.”

“I remember. It’s why it would have been good if this guy would rouse himself.” Her kiss went unnoticed as the little guy continued to hibernate.”

“Would you really miss him.”

“Not while you have this.” She reached past me to grab my not so little toy. It didn’t take long to strap it on, but it did take a while before she was fully satisfied, then a while longer with hers to sort me out.

“You’d probably enjoy this more if you had somewhere else for me to put it.”

“One step at a time. Let’s get to the end of this three months first then see how we feel.”

“The choice has to be yours, Ella.”

“I know, but I’m choosing to include you in deciding. I want us to get used to making decisions together.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Maybe, but not for a while yet. Let me take this as far as I need, then let us sort out who we are to be each other.”

“Mm. If you say. Are you sure about what we’ll be wearing tomorrow.”

“We already talked about that. Can we please get some sleep? I want to be awake for the last night.”

She relented and I fell asleep with her playing with my nipples.

I woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Jamie squealing excitedly. She was living full time in girl mode now with her dad’s approval and her mum’s reluctant acceptance. Sue-Lin had confessed her part in the attacks and received community service as a punishment. Lee and his friends ended up in prison where they’d found out how most inmates feel about guys who beat up girls. Nothing as life threatening as with what they’d done to Jamie, but Lee lost a few teeth in his first encounter. It was going to be a long three months for them but would hopefully persuade them to be a little less unpleasant towards people like Jamie and me.

I emerged from the bedroom to find Jamie jumping about and grinning like a lunatic. Mia had already given her sister the box with the breastplate in it and Jamie had almost gone hysterical.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“It barely fits me any more.” I accepted a mug of steaming nectar from Mia and slurped at it, earning myself a slap on the arm. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have them.”

“Won’t Chris want them back?”

“They wouldn’t fit him. His chest’s too big. Besides, my mum bought me those. The ones Chris paid for were cut off me after I was attacked. He’s welcome to the remains of those.” I actually had plans for them, so maybe after tonight.

I finished my coffee then went to stand under the shower for a while. Mia joined me. It wasn’t as much fun with Mini Me taking a rest, but you can still do enough with soap and a pair of hands to make a shared shower very steamy.

We breakfasted in bathrobes, all except Jamie who undressed enough to exchange her birdseed boobs for something a little more upmarket. It took her a while to rearrange the rigging as her endowments were now substantially larger, and she ended up straining against her blouse so much I had to lend her one of mine. Given that I was down a size or three I figured we might end up swapping quite a few clothes.

A couple of hours with hairdryer and makeup had Mia and me looking gorgeous if a little prim. We’d both chosen dresses that reached to just above our knees and showed less cleavage than usual, but at least I didn’t need a choker for once. All the cleavage I had on display was home grown, albeit with a little artificial help.

“Are you sure that’s how you want to go out?” Jamie asked. With the spring weather warming she was tending towards short, skater skirts and skimpy tops, but that was her choice. This was ours. Large shoulder bags and reasonably sensible heels topped us off.

We made it to the Inn and Chris gave us both a disappointing look. Mind you, he was one to talk with his scruffy jeans and tee-shirt. We stashed our bags in the ladies and set about getting ready for our first customers.

There were four of them waiting when we opened the doors. One Chelsea pensioner with enough ribbons to cover half his chest, one Bob-the-Builder type complete with hard hat and power tools and a couple of attractive looking young women, who were about as much women as I had been a few months ago. I remembered they’d both come in drag a couple of times, but this time they’d taken care to do it properly.

More people arrived through the evening with a surprising number of cross dressers. Apparently I was an inspiration, although it took a special occasion such as this to bring them out of their respective closets.

We had farmhands, pilots, policemen and women – several of those – cowboys, bikers. Perhaps most disturbing were the clowns and the mime, but this was not a night for passing judgement. Each costume had a story and as the evening wore on we heard them all. Stories of adventure, of horror, of disappointment of ordinariness mixed with loves found and lost. Every tale was genuine and wonderful and enough to bring tears. For once our lecherous crowd were respectful and open and thankful for the pleasure we’d given them. For once we saw each and every one of them in a different light, caught a glimpse of the paths they’d taken through life that brought them to this point. It was a huge gift and momentously precious.

All except for the mime. He kept in character and didn’t say a word.

With midnight approaching, Mia told Chris to hold the fort while we went to repair our makeup. We’d both been crying enough that we had panda eyes so it wasn’t the worst excuse in the world. When we re-emerged fifteen minutes later, we were both wearing long coats.

Mia, ever the bossy one, hollered for attention then stepped back, inviting me to take the floor.

“It seems amazing that it’s only been four months since Ella made her first appearance,” I began. “Mia has been around a while longer, but it was really only back at Christmas that things started livening up around here.

“It wasn’t quite the best start I could hope for, but you all welcomed me quickly enough. Mia and I have really had a blast working here. You’ve all made it a lot more fun than it might have been, so thank you for the last few months, and thank you for tonight, for those amazing stories you’ve all told.” I glanced over at the mime who shrugged. “Well, nearly all. Mia and I don’t have the same stories or the same experiences as you, but we’ve tried to show you a little bit of who we really are. Most of the time we’re just attractive, well dressed, relatively sober individuals trying to live worthwhile lives. But, and thanks Chris for making this possible, there are times when we like to let down our hair and have some fun.”

I looked across at Mia who pressed the last button of her selection on the jukebox. We strutted across to each other to the introductory bars of the Miley Cyrus version of Girls Just Want to Have Fun and tore off our coats in time to karaoke along with the song while kicking into the dance routine we’d been practicing all week.

Underneath the coats we both wore skin tight, wet look cat suits with thigh high spike heeled lace up boots.

The room erupted with an enormous cheer that drowned out the music meaning we had to adjust slightly when we could hear the music. We didn’t finish the routine anyway because one after another of our regulars pulled us into a short spin on the dance floor before passing us onto the next.

I was breathless by the time we were done.

“I knew it,” Bob-the-Builder yelled at me. “I knew you was I girl all along. Didn’t I say?”

It had to be said, there wasn’t anywhere to hide anything in the cat suit, but then when what you‘re trying to hide is less than half its normal size and utterly flaccid, it becomes so much easier to tuck effectively. There has always been a chance that the dance routine might have dislodged something, but what is life without risk?

The quiet melancholy of earlier was shattered. Willing hands loaded up the jukebox and people paired off guys with trans girls. The place came alive and drinks flowed out from the bar. Mia and I were rushed off our feet, sharing our time between serving and dancing.

“How did your boobs get big again?” One of the clowns asked.

“I have a little help from silicon valley,” I answered, to which he honked his horn.

Nobody left. The party atmosphere kept going till dawn appeared in the window. In the end Chris had to stand on the bar and yell at the top of his lungs for quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with a total absence of irony. “Running this bar has been one of the most enjoyable things I have ever done, and never more so enjoyable as with these two amazing barmaids. I really would love for this night to go on forever, but the new owners will be turning up to redecorate the place in about an hour, so very sadly I am going to have to ask you to leave.” He emptied a couple of ice buckets behind the bar and tossed one each to Mia and me. “I would ask you on the way out, please don’t forget to tip your waitresses.”

We were manhandled over to the main doors and everyone began to conger out into the street, dropping banknote after banknote into the buckets. They were twice the size of the tip jars we usually used, yet by the time the place had emptied, both buckets were brimming with cash.

Chris topped them with a couple of cheques. Each had four zeroes before the decimal place.

“You two have been astonishing, astounding, amazing, other words beginning with a.” From the mess he was making of his words he was very drunk. “Ella, I don’t know where you put it and I don’t want to know. You should get your stuff and go. I need to cash out the tills before they come to kick me out.”

We exchanged a quick glance. “I’ll get our things from the ladies and call Mary,” I said.

“I’ll get his car keys and cash out,” Mia said.

“Hey, don’t worry about clearing up,” Chris slurred, “that’s not our problem anymore.”

Mia sat Chris down and went through the tills comparing the contents to the receipts. By the time I reappeared she’d run them all through and more or less balanced them first go. “Fifty pence out,” she said. “Close enough.”

I pulled a fifty pence coin from my wallet and tossed it to her. “Close enough now. We should empty the jukebox too.”

“Did you call Mary?”

“Of course. She’s on her way. Said she’d be here in half an hour.”

“We have time to do the jukebox then.”

It almost took longer to find the key in Chris’s immense keychain than it did to count up all the coins. I rescued some bank bags from the office and we quickly tallied up the contents.

“What else?”

“You could grab a bottle each from behind the bar if you like,” Mary said from the doorway. “Call it a thank you for looking after him right to the end.”

“I think this is more than enough for a thank you.” Mia lifted her cheque. “Are you sure he meant to give us this much.”

“We both did and you deserve it. We were offered thirty thousand over what we were asking, largely because of how much business was coming through the door in the last month. Playboy bunny girls was inspired, but you two pulled it off. Do you have the tills there?”

Mia handed them over and I did the same with the cash from the music machine. She took them out to the car while Mia and I helped Chris out of the pub for the last time.

“I meant it about a bottle each. The new people will do an inventory and charge us for what’s been used since the last stocktake, so it’s not stealing. It is a thank you from us. Well from me.”

I popped back in and grabbed a couple of bottles of vodka. Both Mia and I preferred it to most other things.

Mary locked the door and told us to climb into the car.

“We live quite close,” Mia said.

“And I’d rather you didn’t have to walk any distance with that much cash on you, so jump in. You can help prop my husband up for a little way at least.”

If our last night at the Inn was chaotic, then our haul made up for it. The next step in our lives was going to cost quite a bit, so every bit in the bank would help.

As it happened, the expense proved to be less than we’d been expecting. For one thing, Mia apprenticed to a chef at a local restaurant and impressed him so much in the first couple of months that he bumped her up to sous chef which raised her salary from indentured servitude to just about paying our rent and food bills.

David arranged for me to sit in on a number of classes over what remained of the academic year and, once I’d decided what I wanted to study, helped sign me up for my chosen course in psychology and the LGBT spectrum. Somewhere between guilt and gratitude, he and Sue-Lin paid half my tuition fees, which meant that, whilst our savings have dwindled in size a little, they're not in danger of vanishing completely.

I finished the three-month trial on hormones and ended up with a very satisfying body shape. Despite Mia’s prophesy, I didn’t quite exceed her D cups, but C’s are quite acceptable. Besides, her hands are smaller than mine.

My little fella never quite recovered from his three-month hibernation. When I came off the hormones at the end of the trial all he could manage was a half-hearted twitch in response to Mia’s most ardent attention. The loss of oestrogen also messed with my emotions in a way that the loss of testosterone never did.

It was a bit of a no brainer. We hadn’t particularly missed that part of my anatomy so, with Dr Blake’s approval, I went back on the hormones and we scheduled a surgery I’d been feeling more and more that I needed.

They can do wonders these days, rearranging what you have into what you want with added extras like you wouldn’t believe. I mean, I’ll be on pills for the rest of my life and there are health risks from that that I’m going to have to look out for, but it’s worth it for the sense of completeness I’ve gained from – yes, somewhat ironically – losing that part of my anatomy.

The surgery left me bruised and hurting for a couple of weeks, but no pain no gain, right? I had it scheduled for the summer following my first year’s study. It’s weird, I never was that academic when I was younger – too distracted by problems I didn’t even realise I had – but now that this matters, I’m at the top of my class and in line for a bursary that’ll ease the financial burden of learning even more. Plus I’m far enough ahead in my studies they’re talking about letting me graduate a year early. I’m already looking for something to do once I’ve graduated. I’m not sure the job I’m looking for exists yet, so I may have to create it myself. Trans issues aren’t going to go away and the only way they’re going to get better is if they’re brought further out into the public eye. Working in a bar in skimpy clothes has helped me to feel comfortable in front of a crowd, so now I just have to find a way of getting out there to say something worthwhile.

We have a family trip booked for Christmas this year. Jamie hasn’t been as lucky with her hormone treatments as me so, since the NHS won’t do breast implants, we’ve booked her into a clinic in Thailand. It’s a whole lot cheaper over there and the place has a great reputation, plus they’ve offered a very affordable deal to get the whole thing done in one surgery. Needless to say she’s really excited, though we’ll see just how she feels with the post op bruising.

Sue-Lin is coming to terms with having two daughters and a soon to be daughter-in-law. It’s been tough on her, but then losing your religion always is. My parents went through it when I questioned all those dodgy bits in their good book, but they’re a living testimony to the fact that you can lose your religion without losing you faith. In fact you tend to be better off as a result. Mum and Dad sent Mia's parents a Portal for Christmas last year and they've been spending a lot of time online since then helping both of them come to terms with the unconventional turn their life has taken. A different set of beliefs maybe, but the issues are largely the same.

Oh yes, that’s right! Mia and I are getting married. We have matching wedding dresses picked out, in ivory – we didn’t think white was appropriate, besides the colour works better with Mia’s skin tone. The wedding is set for a couple of weeks after Jamie’s surgery. She’s going out ahead of us all for her procedure, then we’re going to have the ceremony on the beach in front of Chris and Mary’s new place – also called Holiday’s Inn. Apparently all his waitresses are local lady boys and Mary says he’s not beyond putting on a dress himself from time to time.

We're thinking about making dresses the dress code for the wedding. Neither Mia’s nor my dad are that keen on the idea at the moment, so we may let the fathers of the brides off, unless of course their wives can convince them otherwise. I mean women have been wearing trousers for decades and if someone like Chris can get to feeling comfortable in a frock, maybe there’s something to be said for encouraging men to get in touch with their inner girl.

Anyway, that’s a battle for another day. Mia’s just called from the bedroom and right now I’m ready, in John Lennon’s immortal words, to make love, not war.