The rest of the day I was in mild shock. I robotically carried out my duties in my maid's uniform. Sir told me to have an early night. He told me that I should remove all of my hair before going to bed. He reminded me that, as I was now Sarah, I should sleep in her room and use her clothes. I just said "Yes Sir".

I found several tubes of Veet and a pack of pink lady razors and got to work. I had always wondered what it would feel like to be hairless when I wore my wife's clothes. The material was so soft, but you don't feel it with a coating of hair.

Friday morning came the way it usually did, far too late in the week. I managed a bus trip without added audio, and after assembly shepherded a flock of teenagers as they laid out the tables ready for our start at ten thirty.

I was still shaken by the scene with Jules, and the vast depths of her fear. I couldn’t quite see it as she did, because I was someone that fitted the lived reality of trans women rather than the usual fictional stereotype of ‘small, pretty’. I couldn’t feel all of her fear because she was in a place I had never been permitted to enter. No pain, no gain, and as I had never gained, I had avoided at least some of the pain.

Sod that. She had been smiling when she had left my place that evening; just stand by her, ready to catch her if she fell and pray that she wouldn’t.