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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 1
 
 
I began to belt it out as my fingers hammered the keyboard's keys,
 
 

"So take a good look at me now.....  I'll still be standing here.....  and you coming back to me is against all odds.....  and that's a chance I'll have to take....  so take a look at me now."

 
 
The final chords faded and I looked up, smiled and into the microphone said, "Thank you, have a good night folks." As the usual crescendo of applause hit my ears I felt that buzz, that indefinable rush that I always got with performing. Perhaps some people got used to it, but I doubted I ever would. I hoped I wouldn't. I looked around the club and through the smoky haze saw folks chatting, ordering a last drink or getting ready to go. I leaned back in my chair and after a few slow breaths, found the energy to rise and steeled myself for the hated task of packing up my equipment.

At last the keyboard was in its case as was my guitar. The sequencer was carefully packed away with my laptop, all cables neatly coiled and bagged, and my amplifier unplugged and ready to go. By now the club was practically empty and the staff were beginning to clear up. Dave came over and offered to help me lug my gear down to my car. I gratefully accepted. "Great set as usual," he remarked as I packed the stuff into the back of my beat-up Ford Fiesta.

I stood back, everything packed in tight, I wiped my brow and grinned, "Thanks Dave. Good number in tonight."

He smiled, "Thursday nights with Nick Evans are becoming a popular tradition in The Last Stop". He handed over a brown envelope, "There you go Nick," his brow furrowed, "Real sorry I can't give you more, you know I'd love to, but making ends meet and all that."

I shrugged and waved a hand at him as I took the envelope, "Dave, you know I'd gladly do it for free..." I paused, "If I could live on air alone." I winked.

He laughed and replied, "You know I think you would. Say, any comeback from your recent demo?"

I winced as he reminded me. "Yeah well, I've got to go and meet one of the agents at Sony tomorrow." I stuck my hands in my pockets and idly kicked the kerb with my right foot, "But I don't hold out much hope," I continued, looking at the ground. Which was a lie, as I had great hopes, great dreams, but was well aware of their potential to be shattered yet again.

"Well, it's their loss if they turn you away if you ask me," Dave replied giving what was probably supposed to be a friendly light punch on the shoulder. However as he was 6 foot something and somewhere over 200 pounds and I was, well a good bit less than that -- I staggered and nearly fell over. "Sorry man," he said with an apologetic smile.

I shrugged and waved. "No problem, I'll see you next week," as I got into my car. "Good luck tomorrow," he called as I pulled the door closed.
 

*          *          *
 
When the alarm blared at seven the next morning, I groaned--and despite trying to ignore it, turn it off, destroy it or at least maim it--I eventually remembered I had deliberately placed it out of reach of my bed to protect it against such intended destructive actions. I dragged myself out of bed and heading for the shower muttering, "Damn it, I'm an artist. Shouldn't have to get up at such ungodly hours." I worked late into the night and rarely rose before mid-morning, but not today.

Getting dressed in the one and only suit I owned, I thought briefly about breakfast but the immediate wave of nausea that crashed over me laid that idea to rest. I checked myself in the mirror and tried to make my straggly shoulder-length black mane look something approaching respectable. I heard my mother's tones in my head, "Nicholas, would you not think of a haircut once in a while?" I grinned to myself as I heard myself tell her I was an artist and not subject to the same expectations of society as the worker drones were. I sighed as the usual progression of such conversations played through my mind inevitably moving towards the issue of me getting a 'proper job' or the like. With the current feeling in my stomach, a part of me was siding with my mother this morning. I shrugged, straightened my tie and headed out the door.

From my Greenwich bed-sit flat, it was about a 35 minute ride on the Tube with one change to get to the headquarters of Sony Music in central London. Sitting in the crowded carriage, I played my demo disc over and over in my head. I was damn proud of this one. I had poured body and soul into the writing of these songs. They were full of emotion, pathos -- full of me. I had recorded them again and again on my digital four-track recorder until I was at last fully satisfied with them.

I had no doubt that this was the best I could do, and hence why I felt so nervous this time. Hell, I had had plenty of experience of rejection but up to now I had used the negative feelings to spur me to better writing, better singing and performing. This time? This time I wasn't sure if I had anything more to give. I had chosen Sony as on my previous round of rejections, they were the most positive. If it is possible to have a positive rejection that is.

As I walked up Great Marlborough Street towards the Sony building, I thought I was going to have to stop and throw up in the street. "Get a grip would you," I muttered to myself and then I noticed the look a woman passer-by gave me. I just smiled and nodded to her as I walked on. Inside the building the plush entrance lobby was probably twice the square footage of my miserable flat and the cheerful girl behind the desk, after checking her computer, told me to go to the 4th floor lobby and ask for Simon Andrews.

I was kept waiting of course. I expected nothing less. After 40 minutes a tall tanned guy in what had to be an Armani suit came out and, effusively apologising, introduced himself as Simon Andrews. He ushered me into his office which needless to say was large, plush and expensively furnished. I politely declined his offer of coffee as my stomach did another somersault and I sat in the proffered leather chair as he sat down behind his desk.

"Well, Nick," he began with a smile, his palms face down on his desk, "Can I call you Nick?" he asked and then carried on without waiting for an answer. "I have to say I was really impressed with your demo. Strong songs, good writing, good performing." He paused.

I felt my heart was going to break through my chest, but I managed to keep it in and smiled faintly, "Thanks."

He nodded, "Yes, good songs, accomplished writing. You obviously have a talent." He paused again and nodded and I began to get an impending feeling of doom. There was a 'but' looming on the horizon I was sure.

"However," he said with a slow intake of breath, "although the songs and the musical performance are very strong, I'm just not sure that your vocals are exactly what we would be looking for at this current time." He smiled apologetically.

It was that old familiar kick in the stomach feeling. My vocals weren't strong enough? I don't have much of an ego, but I did feel I had a good voice. After letting his words sink in, I steeled myself and made myself ask the pathetic questions, "So you are not sure? Not what you are looking for at the moment, but maybe another time?" I hated myself for asking.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and that was all the answer I needed, but he spelt it out, "Look to be honest Nick, we wouldn't be considering taking you on as an artist," he paused and half-winced, "now, or at anytime, really." He spread his hands.

I nodded, "OK. Thanks for being straight with me." Sure thanks for kicking me in the teeth, for removing the last straw of hope. I don't know what it was that made me press on. "I'm sorry for going on," I began, "but it would be helpful for me if you could explain just why my vocals aren't what you are looking for."

He nodded as if to say 'fair enough' and with a bit of hesitation replied, "Well, I don't know quite how to put it....," his voice trailed off and he looked like he was searching for the right words.

Instead of telling him 'where' he could put it I stifled the reflexive urge and said, "Look, just give it to me straight, I can take it." I lied.

"Alright," he said a little more happily, "to be honest in today's climate we are looking for male vocalists with voices that are stronger, more commanding."

I blinked a few times, "But my voice is strong." I was a little puzzled.

He nodded, "Ye-es, it is a strong voice, however what we are looking for is a voice with...." he paused and wrinkled his brow, "with more balls, let's say."

I sighed, and rubbed my chin, "Was that the only reason?" As I asked I knew from his expression that it wasn't, "You can tell me straight, I promise not to cry," I forced a smile. In front of you, I added mentally. As for later? All bets were off on that one.

He sighed, "Well, the agent who met you initially did remark that he didn't think your image would be very...how can I say it....marketable?"

I gave what I am sure was a very cynical smile with an unimpressed snort. "Marketable," I repeated and shook my head. "Alright, Simon, can I call you Simon?" I said and continued apace, "Well thanks for your honesty. I'll not take up anymore of your time." I stood up and was about to head for the door when he spoke again.

"Nick, wait." I turned around as he continued, "I said we wouldn't be taking you on as an artist, but we would be very interested in working out a deal with you as a songwriter."

I paused and chewed my lower lip, "A songwriter." I repeated. I shook my head, "I really don't think so, I'm not going to give up so easy."

He persisted, "Alrigh,t but at least think about a one-off deal. The five songs on your demo we would be very keen to cut a deal with you on." He could obviously see my expression building up to the 'get stuffed' look as he raised his hands defensively, "Look, Nick just think about it, ok? Here take this proposal and look at it, give me a call if you are interested." He held out a white manilla envelope and smiled almost pleadingly. I shrugged and took the envelope from him and headed out the door without another word.
 

*          *          *
 
The weather fitted my mood. Typical November London day -- grey, misty, drizzly and windy. I walked, head down, and walked. From ever since I could remember, I had loved music. It had been my life and I always thought I would make it. Despite all the rejections I still had the belief in myself. Until now perhaps. This was the big one and as they say the bigger they are, they harder they fall. A voice with more balls. A marketable image. I knew what he was getting at.

He wasn't the first. OK, so I didn't want to play rugby at school, or any sport for that matter. I had made every excuse to escape to the music department at every opportunity. I wasn't what you would call well-built. Slight and thin, not the tallest, nor quite the smallest though, at 5 foot 7. I shrugged and winced inwardly as the memories came back from my school days.

Pretty boy. What a hateful nickname. It didn't start out spitefully as in fact it was some of the girls who had coined the term for me. They meant it factually. I was fine-featured as I liked to think of it. However once it got out, I was stuck with it. It was eventually shortened to PB and that was how I was known by most of my year. I sort of hoped most people forgot what it originally stood for. The jocks didn't beat on me at least; it was just what they called me.

I think if I hadn't had my music, if I hadn't had something in my favour, something to be respected for, I may have attracted the casual beatings that other non-entities did. I closed my eyes and pictured the yearbook caption to my photo, "Award for: Most gifted musician. Nickname: 'PB'." I sighed then jumped as the car horn dragged me from my reverie and back to reality. I jumped onto the pavement and gave the car driver a two-fingered salute. Couldn't he see I was in a 'not to be messed with' mood?

I paused to gather my bearings as I had been wandering aimlessly. Charing Cross Road. I pulled the collar of my jacket up as the rain became more persistent and headed for a familiar coffee shop about a hundred yards down the street. Ordering a black coffee I slouched into a corner seat and slipped back into my self-pitying introspection.

Marketable image. The words seared through my brain. Damn, I mean I could eat more, put a bit of weight on, work out a bit. I stirred the coffee and added two sugars and then a third, feeling that I deserved the extra fix. Problem was if it came to spending the hard-to-come-by cash on decent food or a new piece of musical equipment, I knew which would win. And if it came to a choice of spending time cooking, exercising and the like or working on a new tune, or even just listening to music. I knew what I would do.

I drank the coffee and realised that music was my life. Take it away and there was little left. It seemed a little pathetic put like that. I pushed my straggly wet hair back from my face and rubbed my eyes. What now? What else could I do?

The rain had eased a bit so I dragged myself from the chair and headed out again and after pausing for a moment to decide my route and destination; I decided it was home via Charing Cross station and two tube changes. I trudged on with heavy feet, not sure what I was going to do when I got home.

I'd left school with two A-levels. Music of course - an A grade. English a C grade which I was pleasantly surprised with. The Maths had been an unmitigated disaster. I shrugged, the Maths and English were by the bys. I'd spent most of my younger days' spare time involved in music of some kind or another. Orchestra, choir whatever.

A voice with more balls. I winced. Sure I was just about a tenor, as long as it wasn't too low a part. Sure I occasionally had helped the altos in choir practice. But I had a strong voice, I knew it.

When I got home I passed on lunch despite having had nothing to eat all day. No nausea, just no appetite. I stripped out of my damp clothes and tossed them in the corner of my bedroom with a mixture of anger and frustration. With nothing better to do and feeling exhausted I decided to climb back into bed and see if the world looked any better the other side of a few hours nap. It didn't really.
 

*          *          *
 
It was about 6pm when I surfaced and showered. I didn't bother getting dressed again even though there was something pathetic about sitting around in my dressing gown having slept all afternoon. I didn't really care though. I forced myself to eat a cheese sandwich and a packet of crisps. I turned on my stereo and selected one of the compilation CDs that I had made for myself of music that I liked. I lay down on the sofa and let the music wash over me as I tried not to think. Easier said than done.

A voice with more balls. The words cut into me over and over again. What was he trying to say? I had a girly voice? Rubbish. I reached for the remote and turned up the volume as one of my favourite songs started. 'Show me Heaven' by Maria McKee. I loved the way it started slow, quiet, mellow and built up to an emotional crescendo. As it finished a strange thought came to me. A girly voice? No way, I'll prove it. I can't do it.

I switched the stereo off and went over to my studio. OK, the corner of my living room cum kitchen that contained my equipment. I fired up the sequencer and four-track and began to lay down some tracks for 'Show me Heaven'. I never stopped giving thanks for the ears that God gave me. To be able to hear a song and, without much trouble, to be able to sit down and play it was not something I ever took for granted.

I laid down a background keyboard track, a bass guitar riff and then programmed in the percussion on the drum machine. I played it back and nodded to myself, not bad. I never tried to play a song exactly as others performed it. Take what you hear, interpret it, play around with it and add a bit of yourself to it. I picked up my semi-acoustic guitar and plugged it into my amp, switched on the microphone and added a bit of reverb to the mic channel. I adjusted the mic stand's height -- I never could do the old sit down and sing with the guitar thing. You had to stand, had to perform.

I paused and closed my eyes. I wasn't going to sing this song as a man might. Think, think -- how would a woman sing it. I touched the record button on the four-track. I would give it my best shot and still it would be me. No balls, huh?

The intro started and I began a little finger plucking on the guitar and closing my eyes, sang the familiar words.
 
 

"There you go, flashing fever from your eyes.  Hey babe, come over here and shut down tight.  I'm not denying, We're flying above it all.  Hold my hand, don't let me fall,  You've such amazing grace.  I've never felt this way..."

 
 
I smiled to myself as the music crescendoed. I really loved this song and as the chorus kicked in I forgot about what I was trying to do and just went with it and sang it out,
 
 

"Oh, Show me heaven, Cover me, Leave me breathless,  Oh, Show me heaven please."

 
 
I added more rhythmic strumming on the guitar,
 
 

"I've shivers down my spine,  and it feels divine."

 
 
I did have shivers down my spine. That inexplicable feeling of being lost in music, lost in the moment of performance. I felt the dark cloud of the day slipping away as I reached for the high notes at the end and finished with some mellow guitar finger-picking. I sighed and turned off the recorder. I smiled. It was good to play. Good therapy. Cathartic. Now let's hear it.

I sat down on the stool and pressed play. The intro started and I winced as I heard a slightly off note from the guitar. I resisted my perfectionist urge to stop right there and do it again as the verse started. It was good. Or I was good, a little too good for my liking. I sighed and closed my eyes and tried to listen as impartially as I could. I shook my head as the chorus burst in.

This was not good. What I heard was a next to perfect rendition of this song. Emotion, feeling, all the notes perfect. As it closed I felt a strange mixture of feelings. Professional pride, yet personal distress. I had a strong voice alright and being honest, I had just heard one of my strongest vocal performances. A strong voice, but right enough I doubted anyone would have said the singer had a 'ballsy' voice.

After sitting staring into space for a few moments I mentally shook myself. Alright, one song doesn't make a diva. It's a fluke, a scary one, but a fluke. Let's try it again. I thought for a few moments trying to think of another familiar song to try to prove myself wrong with. 'Torn', by Natalie Imbruglia. If you're going to be a one-hit wonder may as well make that hit a great song I always said. I knew the song well.

The tracks were laid down and I grabbed the guitar. As tempting as it was to deliberately do it badly, I just couldn't do that. I gave it my all and as I sat and listened to the playback, it was the same again. As the song ended, my head was in my hands. Was slimy Simon right?

I shrugged and like a failing gambler looking for double or quits, I decided to give it one last shot and raise the stakes. I racked my brain for a song that had a fantastic female vocal. After running through many possibilities I knew the one to try. 'Unbreak my heart' by Tony Braxton. God, I loved that song, fantastic vocal. Starting low with a hint of veiled emotion but building up to melancholic heights of vocal agility. This was the hurdle on which I would fall. I shoved in the CD and listened to it a few times. Fantastic. And unmatchable, I was sure.

I followed the same procedure and determined to give it my all, no matter what. I even laid the guitar track in first so I could concentrate on the vocal. Taking the microphone in both hands I put my heart into it and surprised myself with what I thought was probably a reasonable effort. I was wrong. It wasn't reasonable, it was ghastly. Ghastly because it was brilliant. I was sure I would sound like a man in pain on the high falsettos. But no. I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day and I felt like an emotional wreck. I transferred the three songs to a blank minidisc. Why? I always kept a record of what I had done. The old obsessive-compulsive side coming out again I guess. I crawled into bed for what I knew would be a fitful and disturbed night's sleep.
 

*          *          *
 
I reached out for the alarm clock and tried to thump it, crush it, the usual. I smacked it across the room but still it kept trilling. I was sure I hadn't set it as I had had no particular intentions on the getting out of bed before lunchtime front. Eventually I realised it wasn't the alarm clock, but the phone and, gathering enough coherent cognitive power, I managed to co-ordinate my right hand to lift it off the cradle and bring it to my ear. "Yeah," I murmured into it, hoping I was holding it the right way up.

"You're still in bed!" the voice accused, "I don't believe it -- well actually I do."

Jools.

"Umm, hi Jools," I said, forcing myself to sit up to ensure that consciousness was maintained, "Wassup?"

"Not you obviously," she said with more than a little hint of irony in her voice.

"Umm no," I agreed as I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I looked for my clock to see the time and was puzzled when I couldn't see it. I spotted it in the corner of my room, upside down. I vaguely remembered launching it in that direction subconsciously. "How are you?"

"Oh I'm fine," she said brightly, and then in a sarcastic tone, "except for the fact that a good friend has stood me up for the brunch date we had."

Damn. "Oh.....yes," I said slowly. "Erm sorry. I sort of -- well, forgot."

"So I gathered," she retorted. "So should I cut my losses or can you make it here sometime before sundown?"

"No, I'm coming now," I said more awake now and climbed out of bed just before dropping the phone. "Crap," I muttered and grabbed the receiver, "Jools, you still there?"

"Of course Nick, I'm always here aren't I?"

"Err OK; I'll see you in about 20 minutes. Bye." I set the phone down and grabbed a pair of jeans. I looked in the mirror and wished I hadn't. No need to shave at least, did that yesterday. Hair a mess, could do with a shower. I shrugged as I pulled on a shirt and shoved my feet into my already laced sneakers. Grabbing my jacket and just remembering to grab my keys as I ran out the door, I also as an afterthought grabbed my minidisk player with last night's disk still in it. I knew I should make more of an effort with myself. I thought that it least it was only Jools. Only Jools?

Julie Carstairs. Possibly the closest friend I had right now. We'd been a lot more at one time. When I first came to London 5 years ago, fresh out of school and painfully naive, a friend suggested I get myself an agent. Not knowing any better I got a music mag and looked up the classifieds for agents. There were two entries under 'A' and one under 'B'. As serendipity would have it, the first was a wrong number; the next two were answer phones. Under 'C' I phoned Julie and when she spoke to me she must have realised how green I was and taken pity on me. We met up and chatted.

She was only 4 years older than me yet shared the same love of music that I did. She couldn't play or sing much but had decided to get into the business in the best way she could. Julie could sell ice to Eskimos and having completed a business degree was starting out as an agent. Her business was small and scanty at that time, but she had the fortunate backing of wealthy, generous and concerned parents. Not that mine weren't generous; I was just too stubborn and had this thing about making it on my own.

As we chatted, we realised we had a lot in common and she agreed to try and get me a few gigs to start off with. I had nothing to pay her with but she didn't care. She came round and I played her a few songs and I knew she was impressed. We met up regularly and one night after a gig, she came back to my place and, well, things got personal if you know what I mean. For a few months, I was able to say for the first time that I had a proper girlfriend. It didn't last though. Things sort of got stale.

Music was both of our priorities. Her business was picking up, and she was representing a growing number of West End performers. It wasn't what she really wanted. She wanted to crack open the commercial music industry with a big star, but she was still waiting. I wasn't going to be it despite both of our hopes and things sort of petered out. We both decided to shake hands, separate and remain friends. Most Saturday mornings we would meet up in Marnies' Cafáˆ, a little deli at the start of the Portobello Road and chat about life, give off about our lack of success, laugh, cry and basically hope and dream together.

I ran out of the Notting Hill Gate tube station and huffed and puffed my way up the street until I got there and collapsed into the seat opposite her, red-faced and panting. She smirked and shook her head, "20 minutes! More like 35 and you look awful."

I shrugged, "You know I always promise more than I can deliver, and you look wonderful."

She laughed. "Flatterer." Looking concerned she continued, "But seriously you look like crap."

I raised an eyebrow and with a mirthless chuckle retorted, "You sure know how to kick a guy when he is down, Jools."

After the waitress came and took our order, she said, "Didn't go well yesterday then?"

I shook my head, "You could say that." I related the exchanges between myself and Simon and she made all the right sympathetic noises. I told her the specifics of the reasons why he'd turned me down. She just commented that he sounded like a jerk. She didn't quite contradict what he had said though. When I mentioned the offer of buying my songs, her business brain clicked into gear.

"How much did they offer?" she asked with interest.

I shrugged, "I don't know, I turned him down of course." I bristled a little with indignation, "You know my views on just being a songwriter Jools."

"That's fine, but you need to live and eat. So you weren't interested to know what they were offering?"

Julie could be so darned practical and real at times. I suddenly remembered and fished in my pocket and pulled out a crumpled white envelope. "He said this was the proposal."

She snatched it out of my hand and began to open it just as our food arrived. "Hey," I protested lamely as she pulled out a headed piece of paper and scanned it. Her eyebrows rose a little and she handed it to me.

I took it and trying to pretend indifference, I read it with some interest to see what they thought my songs were worth. I was somewhat pleasantly surprised. I finished reading it and looked up at Julie, " £10,000 for the rights to 5 songs," I stated. "That's probably a lot isn't it?" I asked her.

She nodded, "I'd say so. But don't accept it -- tell them you want 2% royalties also."

I sighed, "I wasn't going to accept it at all Jools, you know..."

She leaned forward and interrupted, "C'mon Nick. Think about it. You are a professional musician as you like to think about it. What is a professional? Someone who makes money from what they do. You aren't sacrificing your artistic integrity or your goals by actually cashing in on your talent, are you?"

"I guess not," I murmured. I grimaced, "But it's the thought of someone else singing my songs." I paused, "It just seems like a violation or something."

Before she could pester me about it any further, I figured I'd distract her with my minidisk. I wasn't quite sure why I was going to get her to listen it. Perhaps it was a hope that she would think it was a poor effort and that would do something to restore my wounded ego. Or rather perhaps it was the total opposite. I think somewhere deep down I was actually quite proud of the performances in a strange sort of way. I slid the minidisk across the table, "Have a listen to this."

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously.

I shrugged, "Just some songs a friend sang, I did the musical accompaniment." I wondered if she would realise who had really sung them.

She grimaced, "Nick...you know I don't really like it when people try to get things past me by the back door. Get your friend to come see me up front."

I sighed, "Look Jools, just have a listen and give me your honest opinion. That's all -- no catches, no strings attached." Not half!

She nodded, "Alright." She put on the headphones and started to listen. I drank my coffee and made a half-hearted attempt at my sandwich. I could just about make the sound out from across the table. The singing started and I could see her expression change from one of resigned reluctance to one of interest. She nodded a few times. After the first chorus, she slipped the headphones off, "Who is she? She's good!"

I winced momentarily but shook my head, "Just listen, there's three songs. Listen to them all and then we can talk."

She shrugged and replaced the headphones. As she listened to the second and third songs I could see she was enjoying them. When they finished she set the headphones down on the table and shook her head saying nothing for a moment. When she spoke it was one word, "Wow." Another pause. She leant forwards towards me, "Who on earth is she? What a voice! Good choice of songs, 3 of your favourites Nick, I presume you suggested them to her."

I shrugged and shifted in my seat suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Yeah, something like that," I murmured.

She would not be put off though. "Nick I want to know who she is. Does she have an agent?" I could see the wheels of her mind turning. "I really want to meet her." Seeing my disinterested expression she persisted, "C'mon Nick, she has a real future with a voice like that."

I sighed. Julie had never waxed lyrical like this about my singing before...well that is until now. "Jools," I began and then hesitated, "There is no future for 'her' because...well I don't know how to say it except that it was me singing on the disk." I sat back and watched her eyebrows shoot upwards.

She screwed her eyes up as she took that one in. "Huh? Did you get a new effects module or something? Electronically modify your voice?"

I shook my head, and said quietly, "No, I just thought I'd try something a little different."

"Why? How?" she seemed a bit overwhelmed.

I shrugged and tried to explain the mood I had been in after the rejection and comments from Simon Andrews. I don't know if she understood but she seemed to take it in.

"Nick, if that is you on the disk, which I still find hard to believe...well you sound amazing. I've never heard your voice like that, so strong."

I grinned wryly, "I sounded like a girl singing and now I'm told that my voice is strong." I gave an ironic half-snort-cum-chuckle. "But if you don't really believe me, come on back over to my place and I'll give you a live demo."

"OK," she said.

I was a bit taken aback but regained my composure and replied, "OK well then let's go." I made my usual pretence about wanting to pay, but as always she wouldn't hear of it and settled the bill herself.

We didn't talk much on the journey back to my flat. Julie seemed preoccupied. When we got in, I suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, "You don't really want to hear me sing like that, do you?"

"I most certainly do," she said indignantly. Then with a sly smile, "I mean, I don't know if I really believe that was you singing." She always knew I couldn't resist a challenge.

"Alright then," I retorted, "which song do you want me to sing?"

"All of them."

"OK."

"Fine."

"Right," I said turning on my equipment. When everything was set, I grabbed my guitar, started the backing track and stood up to the microphone. I got my mind ready for what I was doing and began to play. I closed my eyes and began to sing, I let my voice flow over the familiar words and let myself get immersed in the music and the emotion. Just like last night, I put everything into it, heart, mind and soul and when I finished 'Show me Heaven' I opened my eyes and saw Julie sitting on the arm of the sofa staring at me with her mouth slightly open.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head as if snapping out of a trance. "Umm nothing, nothing. Go on, don't stop," she waved a hand at me to encourage me to continue.

I turned back and started 'Torn'. Again I let myself be absorbed into the performance and found it coming more naturally than it had last night. I reasoned it was probably just increased familiarity with singing this way.

When it finished, I didn't even look at Julie, I just set the guitar down and started the final song, 'Unbreak My Heart.' I gave it the 'full welly' as a friend of mine used to say. I cupped the microphone between my hands and it was as if I was almost pouring myself into it. When the song finished I just stood there, eyes closed for about half a minute, before turning to face her.

I shrugged, "There you go. Believe me now?" She just stared at me as if I was an alien or something. She shook her head.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears I don't think I would have believed that was possible. Being perfectly serious -- that was absolutely amazing."

I winced again and murmured, "Pity it's not really the real me singing and getting such praise."

She looked at me thoughtfully and chewed her lower lip, "Perhaps, perhaps not." I didn't know what she meant and didn't feel inclined to ask her to elaborate. She jumped to her feet and said, "I'd better be going. Can I borrow that minidisk?"

"Sure. What do you want it for?"

She shrugged noncommittally, "I just want to listen to it again." She had that calculating look in her eyes, but I was too drained to push her any further so I gave it to her. She gave me a peck on the cheek and headed for the door. "I'll be in touch," she waved.

"Bye Jools," I said, "Oh, I'm heading up to see my folks tonight and won't be back 'til Monday afternoon so I'll talk to you sometime next week."

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 2
 
 
It had been good to spend some time with my folks, but I was glad enough to be driving back down the M4 towards London on Monday afternoon. My parents now lived in Cardiff and had done so for the past 3 years or so. Dad was a solicitor and when I was growing up he had been based in the Pembroke office of the firm Roberts, Unwin & Jones.

Pembroke had been home, Cardiff wasn't. On the coast of south-west Wales, Pembroke was a medium-sized town probably best known for its majestic castle. I had been born there, grew up there and went to school there. I missed it from time to time, but it was hardly the centre of the universe.

Dad had been promoted to a senior partnership in the central office in Cardiff and was now winding down towards retirement. Mum had been a teacher but hadn't taught since my sister and I were born. Claire was 3 years older than me and was the 'success' of the children in my parent's eyes. Or so I perceived it. They would never say it in so many words. Claire was an accountant working in Bristol. Unmarried as yet, and closer to Cardiff, she visited Mum and Dad a lot more often than I did as Mum had reminded me the past day or two.

I loved my folks dearly. We had never wanted for anything growing up and they had always encouraged my interest in music. I remember Mum putting me through my piano practice each week and telling me to do it over and over again until I got it right. I attributed my perfectionist tendencies to her. They had urged me to go to Music College after leaving school, to get a decent qualification. I declined; I had other ideas in mind.

I think they hoped I'd grow out of my desire to be a successful singer/songwriter and would settle down, become a music teacher, get married and produce grandchildren for them. Yet in their favour they didn't spend their time rubbishing me or berating me. They tried to be encouraging, but I knew they were concerned that I was throwing my life away on a pipe dream. I had told them about the latest rejection and I think Mum knew how galling this one was. I could never really hide my feelings from her.

Dad was always worried about my financial status and true to form offered me a helping hand again this time. I refused as always, but this time he wasn't backing down. Apparently he'd just got a bonus or something and he claimed he'd given Claire a gift as well and he wasn't going to treat us differently. So I accepted somewhat reluctantly. He gave me a cheque for  £2000 and ignored my protests. I was grateful really. I made scant enough money with the odd gig here or there and just about made ends meet each month.

I was halfway down the M4 when my musings were interrupted by the ringing of my mobile phone on the seat beside me. I grabbed it and flicked it open, "Hello?"

"Nick, where are you?" It was Jools.

"Umm, about halfway between Bristol and London, on the way back from my folks. Remember?"

"Oh yes," she said quickly. She sounded a little on edge and continued, "Listen, tell me do you think you could write songs for, well you know a girl to sing?"

"Huh?" I had forgotten about all this the past day or two.

She sighed sounding impatient, "Look the songs you sang the other night to me. Do you think you could write original songs to be sung like that?"

"Jools, what is this about? Are you harping back on the songwriter thing again?"

"Nick, just answer," she sounded ticked off now, "Do you think you can or not? I'll explain later, I'm sort of in the middle of something."

I paused, "Umm, well I dunno. I guess so."

"OK fine, give it a try would you? I'll be round tomorrow sometime. Bye."

"Uh bye," I said, but she was already away. I shook my head and threw the phone on the seat beside me. She was up to something and I didn't have a good feeling about it, but that was Jools.

I timed my journey perfectly to coincide approaching London with the evening rush hour and spent a frustrating 1-1/2 hours circumnavigating the M25 before making it back to my flat. I arrived in and checked my answer phone messages. Three. All Jools, getting more agitated with each one wanting to know where I was. Why she didn't phone my mobile after the first attempt was one of those things I'd never work out.

Her messages reminded me of her strange question this afternoon. I dumped my bag on the floor and headed for my 'studio'. I switched on the keyboard and let my fingers roam, playing aimlessly for a while to relax and warm up.

The process of writing a song is a strange one and if someone was to ask me how I do it I probably couldn't give a clear answer. Sometimes I had a fragment running around in my head for days which forms the nucleus of a song. Sometimes it comes out of nothing. Usually I have a thought in my head as to what the lyric should roughly be about. I form the song and melody and then just sing and see what words come. Most times I have to step away from the keyboard and guitar and sit down to get the words finalised. Other times however it all just flows out and I just switch on the four-track to make sure I don't lose it or forget it.

After 5 or 10 minutes of mind-clearing playing I stopped. I sat and thought. Think like a girl? I grinned and mentally pictured myself extracting logic and reason from my mind. Chuckling to myself I knew I'd get a slap from Jools if I shared this with her. But more seriously, I sat and thought. I needed a spark of inspiration. My mind drifted back to my earlier reminiscences whilst driving and I cast my memory back to my childhood. Slowly an idea began to come to me and I let my mind run with it.

I let my hands rest on the keys and considered what key to play in. 'D' I thought first. But then remembering this was for a female vocal I adjusted upwards to 'F'. Starting with high treble arpeggio-style chords I began to search for the heart of this song. I let my hands seek out the right chord progression as I hummed the potential melody. The verse was a melancholic wispy style. I got stuck on the end of the verse and couldn't find the right chord. I tried again and again before I got it -- A diminished 7th -- perfect. Now into the chorus which was a bright, loud flood of nostalgic longing.

After about an hour or so, I wasn't sure as time has little meaning in such a situation, I felt I had the music complete and began to tease out some of the lyrical phrases that had been floating around in my head. It was one of those times when it just flowed. Putting myself in the right mindset I sang the lines as a woman would and it clicked, it came together.

It's hard to explain the feeling of anticipation as a song is being born. The excitement mixed with an apprehension that it might not turn out just as good as you know it could be. At last I felt I had it. I scribbled down the lines on a piece of paper and after a bit of scoring out here and there and making changes it was done.

I pulled the microphone down to within range and hit record on the four-track. It was a song about a young woman in the midst of the hassles of life casting her mind back to the days when all she had to worry about was if the sun was shining or not. The title was the main line from the chorus, "9 years old again." It was me, yet the perspective was not quite mine.

When finished, I paused for breath and then started the playback. It was good. Sometimes it was hard to appraise your own songs. Sometimes it was easy. Sometimes after spending hours working on a song, when I played it back I would immediately realise that it hadn't lived up to its promise and with sadness I would there and then mentally bin it. Rarely would working on it further or changing it be good enough. This one however I knew was good right from the first time.

Reluctantly I had to admit that it was helped by the rather strong and unfortunately undeniably female vocal that was carrying it. I knew the limits of my vocal range and that was the beauty of being a singer/songwriter: you could write the songs to showcase your own vocal breadth and depth. This song did that: from the verses which were soft and delicate with a high-pitched vocal line leading into a more melodic and powerful chorus.

It was one of the reasons I was against just being a songwriter. If the songwriter writes the song for their own voice, surely the song will be diminished if sung by someone else.

When it finished I switched off all my equipment and headed to bed. There was nothing more to do, I had created and it was good.
 

*          *          *
 
Being rudely awakened from sleep was unfortunately becoming a familiar pattern. This time after swiping at the alarm clock and then ascertaining it was neither the clock nor the phone, I achieved enough consciousness to realise it was the door buzzer. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the door of my flat and picked up the intercom phone. "Yes?" I said wearily.

"C'mon let me in," said an all too bright voice. Jools.

I sighed, "OK," and pressed the door release for the downstairs door. I opened my door and leant against the wall waiting for her arrival. She came bouncing up the stairs and strode into my flat with a grin on her face. Her face fell slightly at the less than enthusiastic expression on my face. She gave a little smile and held up the box in her hands, "I've got fresh coffee and croissants," she said enticingly.

I tried not to, but couldn't help myself from smiling. There was something infectious about Jools when she was in this sort of mood. I closed the door and followed her over to the table and slumped into a chair. She grinned at me and gestured at me, "Nice of you to make an effort for me. Makes a girl feel real special."

I gave her a mock-scowl and realised I must be quite a sight in my old T-shirt and shorts, sleep-filled eyes and wayward hair. I shrugged and reached for the coffee and a croissant eagerly, "What time is it Jools?"

She checked her watch "Half past nine. The day is young and there is lots to do."

I winced, "Half nine?" I gave her the 'what the hell are you doing getting me up at this time' look.

She ignored it and tucked into her own croissant. "So," she said, her eyes bright, "did you give what I suggested a try?"

I carefully chewed my croissant thoroughly and then took a long mouthful of coffee to wash it down, keeping her on edge deliberately. After a pause, I replied simple, "Yes."

She blinked a few times, "And?" she said expectantly.

I shrugged diffidently, "Well, I guess it was OK."

"Did you make a recording?" she pressed.

I raised my eyebrows and blew out my cheeks, "Did I record it or not?" I mused.

She sighed with exasperation, "Of course you did, you always do. Stop toying with me and let me hear it." She almost pouted.

I grinned and, grabbing another mouthful of croissant, wandered over to the four-track and turned it on. I got it ready and hit play before coming back to the table. Just before it started I said, "It's called '9 years old again'." I sat down and casually sipped my coffee as it started.

Jools on the other hand looked like she was sitting on eggs. She tapped her foot, shifted position, nodded and smiled from time to time as the song played. When it was finished I casually strolled over and switched off the four-track and again made my way back to the table and drained the remains of my coffee. I looked up at her and saw she was looking at me strangely.

"Are you happy with the song?" she asked me.

I smiled and shrugged, "I guess it's ok."

"OK?" she replied, "OK? C'mon Nick, seriously! Don't tell me you don't think that's the best song you have ever written."

I couldn't help myself and smiled broadly and tilted back in my chair, "Well, it is pretty good I think."

"Pretty good?" she echoed, "It's flippin' amazing and you know it."

My smile got wider, "Gee shucks, thanks. So what's got you all worked up? Been developing the master plan for me to sell out my integrity as a songwriter now?"

She smiled and shook her head, "Not exactly." She hesitated.

"C'mon Jools, what have you been up to and why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this."

She thought for a moment before looking me in the eye and replying, "Look Nick, you've always wanted to be a singer/songwriter, a performer, a successful artist, right?" I nodded but she didn't need to wait for me to answer, she knew so she continued, "And ever since I've known you, that has been your one and only goal, it's been your driving ambition. You are determined to make it happen aren't you?"

"Sure," I replied, "you know that."

She nodded, "And if I know you right, which I think I do, you would almost do anything to fulfil that dream, no?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Enough of the softening me up Jools, what are you scheming?"

She took a long, slow breath, and hesitated again before going on, "Nick, I took that minidisk you gave me to a record company to let them hear it..."

"You did what?" I said with incredulity.

She held up her hands, "Hear me out. Yes I took it to a major label record company yesterday, demanded a meeting with one of their liaison agents and played it to him. Do you want to know what he thought?"

"Erm, sure, and I want to know why you did this?"

"All in good time. Well he got quite excited and wanted to know who this girl was. He was very impressed with her vocals to say the least and wanted to know if she was interested in the possibility of a recording contract. He wanted to know if she could write her own stuff and was so taken with the sound that he took the disk to one of the senior managers to let them hear it."

She didn't pause for breath but went right on. "That's when I phoned you and asked about writing songs for a woman. So eventually when he came back in, I told him that I could confirm that she was an excellent songwriter also. He had brought his manager with him and they both expressed great interest in meeting this girl and the definite possibilities of setting up a deal."

I had so many questions but the first one that came out was, "And?"

She grinned, "Well I arranged a meeting for just over a month's time, Monday 23rd December, as I said she was focussing on an intense period of song-writing at the moment. They agreed as long as I promised that I wouldn't be contacting any other labels in between times."

I shook my head, "Jools, I mean..." Words failed me and I tried again, "What on earth is this about? I mean that is me singing. They aren't going to be too impressed when I show up with you. Sorry I know you were expecting a girl, but hey at least I can sing like one?" I shook my head again, "What's the point of this?"

She nodded slowly and obviously choosing her words carefully replied, "Nick. You want to be a successful artist. You would do almost anything to achieve that. Well, I think this is your big chance. How far are you willing to go to take this opportunity?" She looked at me meaningfully.

Then it clicked, "Oh God, no Jools. You aren't implying? You are. Urgh!" I groaned and buried my head in my hands. After a few moments I lifted it again, "You can't be serious?"

She leant forward animatedly, "C'mon Nick, think about it. You and I both know that with a voice like your 'new voice' and writing songs like that one, you've got every chance to make it. This is it, this is the big one."

I exhaled slowly, "Jools, no. I mean there's no way it would work. We'd be a laughing stock. Me dressed up as a girl?" I shook my head, "No, it would be a fiasco." I looked down at the table.

Jools reached out and grabbed my hand and squeezed it until I met her gaze again. She said emphatically, "Nick. Give me a chance to prove we can do this. Don't take this the wrong way but I think we have every chance to make this work and to make it work well." She looked at me meaningfully.

I got her drift. It was the same old, same old. Pretty boy all over again. I felt a hollow sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was going to protest again but I looked at Jools and I recognised that determined look in her eyes. Did she really think it was possible? Would she have gone out on a limb like this if she didn't? Did I want it to be possible? I didn't really know the answers to any of these questions.

After a few moments, I replied softly and somewhat reluctantly, "What did you have in mind to prove this?" I was fairly sure I didn't want to hear the answer.

I saw her eyes light up, "OK, well get showered, dressed and we'll go to my place."

"Jools," I demanded, "I'm not moving until you tell me what you have in mind."

She sighed, "Look Nick, let's give it a dress rehearsal test ok? I've got some things back at my place we can use. Let me try a new look on you. No pressure, let's just see how things pan out, ok?"

I grimaced but knew that she was like a dog with a bone until she got her own way, "Alright. I'll do this but as long as you understand this is it. Whenever you realise it isn't going to work, that's the end of it and you can sort out the mess you have got yourself into and have tried to get me into."

"OK," she agreed, "fair enough. Now go get showered and dressed quick and let's go."

I was a bit perturbed that she had agreed so easily but put the thought out of my mind as I went to comply with her instructions.
 

*          *          *
 
We arrived at Jools' place and I lifted my guitar out of her car. She had insisted that I bring it but hadn't been overly forthcoming as to why. Jools had an apartment in Shepherd's Bush in West London. It was a nice area and properties didn't come cheap here. Apparently it was her parents' London apartment but they rarely stayed there so for all intents and purposes it was hers. The apartment was on the second floor of a Georgian style terrace house. The ground floor was an office which Jools claimed she rented from her parents and used as her base for her work. I doubted the rent she was charged was too steep. More luxurious almost than the property in London terms was the fact that there was enough room to park two cars comfortably, three at a squeeze, in the yard behind the house.

Once inside, I felt extreme butterflies in my stomach at what lay ahead. I didn't quite know what lay ahead and I think that was the main problem. I set the guitar down, took off my coat and looked at Jools. I think I must have looked terrified because she came over and gave me a hug. She murmured in my ear, "Look, I know this is all a bit overwhelming, but just trust me and let's see what happens." I hugged her back. It felt nice. But not in the way it once had. Oh I loved her alright. But it was more like brother and sister with me and Jools now.

"OK," she said in her business-like voice. "The first thing is to get your hair washed and sorted."

"I could have washed it back at my place when I was showering," I complained.

"Yes, but I want to do some styling," she explained as if to a small child.

We went into the bathroom and she had me take off my shirt and lean my head over the bath. She proceeded to wash my hair and shampoo it. The steaming hot water erupting from the shower head was soothing as were her hands massaging my scalp. I think she shampooed it twice with different shampoos and then I think it must have been conditioner that came next. My hair hadn't been as well cared for in a long time. When she was done she had me sit in a chair and after towelling it briefly, she combed diligently through my hair ignoring my protests when she worked through the tangled bits which I usually neglected.

When it was all combed out straight and she was happy she explained, "OK, now don't freak. I am going to put your hair in rollers now to give it some shape." I think she must have seen the expression on my face as she went on quickly, "I said, don't panic. It's not a perm, it's not permanent, and it will comb out completely after one wash...or two. Just trust me."

I sighed and let my protests subside. For about the next half-hour she wound my hair onto a set of rollers she had already heated. Apart from the occasional "Ouch" from me when she tugged a bit hard at my hair, I let her work away unhindered. When every inch of my head it seemed was covered in rollers, she gently placed a hairnet over my head to keep them in place.

"There," she smiled, "stage 1 complete. Not too bad?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

I shrugged and forced a smile, "OK, I guess."

"Right, next step is to try on some new clothes."

"OK," I said less than enthusiastically but didn't protest. I knew this was coming and I had agreed to go along with her plan for today. We went into her bedroom and she suggested that I remove my trousers and pants. She gave me a pair of blank nylon panties and told me to put them on and give her a shout when I had done so. She stepped out of the room.

I slowly slipped off my jeans and pants and picked up the black panties. I stood there for a moment feeling as if I was standing at an invisible threshold that something deep inside me was warning me against crossing. I shrugged mentally, if you can do that, and slipped the panties on. I didn't feel much different I had to admit. They felt comfortable and the sensation of nylon against my skin was not displeasing. There was a little bulge in the front of the panties. Little -- that was another issue. I called Jools back in as I stood there embarrassedly.

I knew she was trying to keep a straight face but was having difficulty. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "OK go on and laugh, we both know you want to."

She smirked and then sniggered, "I'm sorry Nick. It's just kind of amusing."

I couldn't help but smile too, "Yeah well, laughing at me I think will be the theme of this afternoon."

"Now now," she chided, "don't be such a pessimist. Just wait 'til I am finished with you."

"I can't wait," I said dryly.

Jools held up a black garment, "Right, this is a corset. You know what that is don't you?" I nodded as she wrapped it around my torso and began to tighten the laces at the back. I felt my stomach getting more and more compressed.

"It's a bit tight," I gasped.

"That's the idea," she said through gritted teeth as she really pulled hard and tied it off." She took a measuring tape and measured my waist with the corset on, "25 inches -- not bad at all. What is it normally?"

"Umm, 30 inches," I replied.

"It's as well you are a little slim thing."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment, Jools?" I groaned.

She ignored the question; I guess it was rhetorical anyway. She opened a plastic bag and pulled out two pieces of foam shaped like, well you know, shaped like breasts. "Alright darling, time to give you some curves," she said as she popped them into the cups in the corset.

My face was flaming red and I didn't know where to look or what to say. She must have sensed my discomfort and she placed a hand on my arm, "Stick with it Nick. It's fine; it's only you and me."

I nodded manfully -- as manfully as one can do standing dressed in black panties, a corset and with a full, if false, cleavage on display. Worse was yet to come however as Julie picked up a pair of silky black stockings. She grinned at me, "Well, men always claim they like stockings." She winked and I rolled my eyes.

"I hardly think this is what most men mean, Jools."

She shrugged, "Don't judge before you try them, here sit down." I sat down on the edge of the bed and she slipped first one on, then the next. She got me to stand up and attached them to the suspenders on the corset. It felt strange having my legs encased in this silky material. Not unpleasant, but I wasn't about to admit that.

"Umm why couldn't I just wear pantyhose?" I asked.

"I want you to enjoy the full experience," she replied with a wink.

"Gee thanks," I said.

She handed me a white satiny blouse and I slipped it on. It was when I came to try and button it up that I got into difficulties. Julie reminded me of the fact that women's clothing buttoned the other way and I eventually managed to button it all the way up. It was a V-neck blouse, but not too low cut. Then she gave me a somewhat rueful grin as she handed me a short, black skirt. I took it tentatively and with a bit of hesitation, stepped into it and pulled it up. I just about managed to zip it up in the back without having to ask for help. I adjusted it until it sat properly where my 'new' waist was.

"Shoes," Julie said as she handed me a pair of black court shoes with not too much heel on them. I slipped my feet into them and they fit perfectly.

"How did you know what size...," I began.

"Now, do you expect me to do anything by halves?" she protested.

I should have figured. Jools always had it all worked out. That scared me a little as I wondered would things work out as she was planning. I looked around the room; I was fully dressed and sort of curious to see how I looked. Julie had a big wardrobe with three floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, the middle one was a mirror but it was behind one of the other ones it seemed.

"Oh no you don't," Julie grinned. "I know what you are after and you will just have to wait for the finished product."

I wrinkled my brow, "What else has to be done?"

"Make up silly," and she led me to the dressing table, the mirror of which had been covered with a towel.

"More humiliation," I murmured.

"Don't think of it like that," she said in a voice that almost seemed pained. She looked a bit downcast and for some reason I felt bad.

"Sorry," I said and forced a smile, "OK, do your worst then."

She grinned and began to rub moisturiser cream into my face and neck. She massaged it in gently and tenderly and I closed my eyes, quite enjoying the sensation. After several applications she told me that my skin was a lot softer now and that I really should moisturise on a regular basis. Next she took a sponge and began to carefully apply what she told me was a foundation cream over my face. She blended it in carefully at the edge of my face and neck and then lightly brushed some powder over it.

Getting me to close my eyes, she applied a few shades of eye shadow and then outlined my eyes with a pencil. Next came the mascara and it was a strange sensation having this thick black substance brushed onto my lashes and then the lashes teased out. She dabbed a hint of rouge onto my cheeks and then with a lip pencil, outlined my lips. After a coat of a darkish red lipstick she got me to purse my lips and then she applied a coat of lip gloss. I blotted my lips on the paper hankie she gave me and she stood back and nodded.

She placed a gold chain around my neck, a bracelet on my wrist and a few rings on my fingers. Two hoop clip-on earrings were attached to my lobes and she sprayed me liberally with some perfume. I coughed a few times, "Is perfume really necessary?" I protested lamely.

"Remember," she explained, "it's about the whole experience."

I nodded, "Ok, ok."

"We're nearly done," she said cheerfully, "just have to get your hair brushed out." She removed the hairnet and began the tedious job of extracting each roller. Eventually the last one was removed and she began to vigorously brush out my hair. Although my scruffy hair was normally shoulder-length, with my new curls it came down to just above my shoulders. She brushed and coiffed and at last seemed satisfied. She stepped back and got me to stand up. "Now let me see the finished product," she said with anticipation.

I stood up and although feeling slightly awkward to say the least, I struck a pose for her and made a little pout. She stood stock-still and went a little pale. I saw her swallow and she just stood and stared at me.

"What is it?" I asked. I presumed she was disappointed that despite all her efforts, it was all for nothing. Gently I said, "Things didn't turn out the way you thought?"

She shook her head briefly before saying in a strange voice, "I guess you could say that. Here, have a look for yourself." She slid the sliding mirror door out from behind one of the others and I turned to look at myself.

My heart almost stopped and I froze rather like Julie had. My mouth went dry and I felt as if I had broken out in a cold sweat. I shivered. "My God," I whispered.

"I know," Julie murmured, her expression equally as shocked as she came to stand beside me. The person standing beside Jools in the mirror was not me. Looking back at me was an extremely attractive woman with medium-length black curly hair. The face was exquisite -- my face I had to remind myself. The whole look was scary. The clothes, my figure -- it was all woman.

I turned to look at Julie and tried to find words. "Jools...is this, I mean did you, well think that this is how I would turn out?"

She swallowed again, still the sombre look on her face. "No," she croaked. She coughed and finding her voice, "Nick, I had no idea really. I sort of thought you might look--well, Ok. Certainly I thought you might look enough like a girl to get by. I'm sorry if that sounds bad, but you know yourself that you're not exactly..." her voice trailed off.

I sighed, "I know Jools." I turned to look back at the mirror and stood there almost transfixed for a moment before continuing, "I had no idea though..."

Julie nodded, "Me neither. Wow."

We both stood looking in the mirror for about a minute before Jools shook her head. "I mean, you bitch!" she exclaimed and gently gave me a dig in the ribs.

"Huh?" I said looking at her with puzzlement.

She grinned, "Look at you! You're absolutely gorgeous and put me to shame. And you're not really...well...you know."

I screwed my face up, "Jools, come on I don't put you to shame..."

She interrupted and turned my face back to the mirror, "Don't deny it Nick. You're stunning, beautiful, admit it."

She was right. Jools was pretty, mousy brown hair, medium height -- perhaps a little on the wrong side of slim, but not much more than a little. I looked at myself. I had gone from being a medium height, scrawny, scruffy-haired fine-featured man to a tall, slender but curvy, very attractive woman.

I felt strange. I wasn't sure how to explain the way I felt. Disturbed, certainly. Amazed, yes. Curious, puzzled and...in a strange way, a little proud. I turned one way and the next and watched the way my curls bounced. I checked myself out from the rear and then turned back to face Julie. In a small voice I said, "OK. I admit it, but the words almost stick in my throat and I don't know how I feel about it."

I plumped myself down on the edge of the bed and she sat down beside me. She took my hand and held it lightly. "Nick, you've been very patient with me so far, but would you try one more thing for me?"

I shrugged and smiled, "Sure, why not. In for a penny, in for a pound. What is it?"

"Well, would you mind getting the guitar and singing '9 years old again'? I just sort of want to see how you look singing."

I nodded and got up to get the guitar from the living room. It felt strange walking in a skirt and stockings. Again it wasn't unpleasant, just incredibly foreign. I checked the tuning of the guitar briefly and made a few adjustments. I went back into the bedroom and slipped it over my shoulders. I grimaced a little and loosened the strap. My breasts were in the way. Wow, strange thought. I shook my head and looked up at Julie, "Shall I start?"

She nodded, "But turn towards the mirror first so you can see, too."

I did as she asked and started into the song. Yes, it had been written on the piano, but that was the joy of writing your own songs, you knew how you felt it should be played on other instruments, too. Although I had only played it on the keyboard before, when I played it I heard all the other parts in my head. So I played and began to sing. As I watched the young woman in the mirror sing my song I got a bit distracted so I closed my eyes and let the music take over. Music was such a release. I let the tension of the day flow out of me as I strummed and sang. I brought the song to a close with some soft gentle plucking as the vocal faded. Opening my eyes I saw the woman in the mirror smile and her lashes fluttered a little.

I looked over at Julie and saw she was biting her lower lip and her hands were clasped together, her knuckles white. I raised an eyebrow. She exhaled slowly as if she had been holding her breath throughout the whole song. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and she murmured, "Nick honey, we need to talk."

She wouldn't say another word for now but insisted we get coffee first. As she walked out of the room I gathered that I should follow her. I had sort of wanted to mention getting changed out of these things but figured I should leave it for now. I took a seat at the table as she brought the coffee over. I took a sip and savoured the bitter taste in my mouth thinking that I had certainly earned it. She sat down and looked at me thoughtfully. I took another drink of my coffee before feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. "Ok, Jools, what do we have to talk about?" I had a sneaking suspicion I knew where the conversation would head.

She smiled at me and shook her head, "You know I still can't believe it's you I'm sitting looking at." I smiled a little self-consciously and blinked a few times, looking away for a moment. She laughed and clapped her hands, "Oh my goodness, that is SO perfect."

"Huh?" I asked furrowing my brow.

She giggled, "The way you shyly averted your eyes and fluttered your lashes, my goodness if there were any men here they would be eating out of your hand."

A moment's silence before I replied softly, "There is a man here."

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head with an apologetic smile on her face, "Sorry Nick, but it's just that you are so...how can I say?" She paused, "You just look great."

I changed the subject, "We have to talk?"

"Yes," she said. Business-like Jools was back and I was actually quite glad. "Right, now where were we? Ok Nick, the way you looked and sang in there, my God, it was unbelievable." She fixed her gaze on me and gave me this intense look, "You didn't watch yourself as you sang, but Nick I have never seen you sing like that, look like that, perform like that. Never! The feeling, the emotion, the body language? Awesome, totally awesome." She paused to let her words sink in.

Whilst my cheeks were burning at her words, I was also burning inside. Not with embarrassment but with pride. I always knew deep down inside that I had that indefinable 'it'. I just didn't know where it was. But was this what it takes to bring it out? "Uhh thanks," I murmured.

She wasn't finished, "Nick, I know this is a biggie, but I really do think this could be it. Do you catch my drift?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling queasy and a myriad of clashing emotions flooding me. I croaked, "Yeah, I understand."

She raised her eyebrows and slowly exhaled. "Well, what do you think Nick?"

I sat still for a few moments and tried to collect my thoughts. I began hesitantly, "All right Jools, I admit, as hard as it is to say it, I look like a girl. But there's so much more at stake here." I paused again and then tried to articulate my feelings, "Hypothetically speaking, if we go for this, I have to not only look like a girl, I have to talk like a girl, have mannerisms like a girl, behave like a girl, walk like a girl, think like a girl." I stopped, the implication sunk in and I half-whispered, "I have to BE a girl." It was my turn to take the deep breath.

Julie slowly nodded, "You're right. You're absolutely right. There's no half measures here, sure there's not?"

I nodded and thought aloud, "If we were to go for this, all out success is what we'd have to go for. To make it...worth it. And if that is the case, well, the truth couldn't get out." I swallowed hard, "I can't believe I'm thinking about this."

Julie smiled sympathetically, "Nick you have to think about this. I really do believe this is the big opportunity. The price is high, but the potential reward is too. If this is the only way to reach your goals, and I'm afraid I think it might be, if so, can you afford not to consider it?"

"I guess not," I murmured. "But there is so much to think about, so many things to cover, so many things that would need to be sorted."

She put her hand over mine and looked me in the eyes, "Nick. Don't worry yourself about all the details. I can handle them. I'm good with details. If you decide to go for this, I'm here with you each step of the way." She paused, "Well, that is, I don't mean to presume, but if you want me to help that is."

"Jools!" I protested, "Of course I would want you, I would need you." I grinned foolishly and allowed a little flight of fancy, "If this is the big one for me, hitting the top, then it's the big one for you. A star needs an agent." I winked.

She laughed, we both laughed. Then I thought some more, "But I don't know if I can do it. I mean to go in front of a major label company? I don't know if I can pull it off. The whole thing, you know, being a girl?"

Julie nodded, "Why do you think I spun them the story about you not being able to meet them until the 23rd December? Almost 5 weeks away. That gives us plenty of time to work on all these things."

"You really do seem to think of everything. I mean you didn't know how this afternoon would turn out, but if it did turn out right, you are thinking several moves ahead it seems. I hope you can keep ahead on this. You are quite something!"

She smiled and her cheeks flushed a little, "What a team we could make."

I smiled and then thought of more things, "Hold on, what did you say my name was when you were talking to them? And which record company did you approach?"

Julie grinned, "I said I wasn't prepared to reveal your name yet as you were intent on privacy at this stage and wouldn't permit me to reveal it unless there was a face to face meeting with a real proposal on the table." She laughed, "They were practically drooling. Tell them there's something they really want and then almost tell them they can't have it. But you are right, you'd need to think of a name if we're going to run with this."

"The record company?" I reminded her.

She hesitated and then with a little smile, "Sony records."

I blinked a few times and knew before I asked, "Who were you dealing with?"

She smiled, she knew I knew, "Simon Andrews."

"Jools! What are you playing at; why on earth would you pick him? I mean he has seen me, the real me just this last week and has heard me sing? Do you want this to fail at the first hurdle?"

She shook her head and said evenly, "Think about it. If it is going to fail then better it fails right away. Minimum of embarrassment, no scandal. We have to be very, very careful if we proceed with this. No slips, no mistakes. So if we can't pull it off with Simon Andrews, at least we know. If we can, on the other hand, then that in my book means we have every chance of success."

I nodded, she was right. Of course she was right, she nearly always was. I couldn't quite believe I was considering this, but could I dare not consider it? "Alright, I'm going to need to do some serious thinking and sleep on this."

"Ok, well I guess we should get you ready for the road again, miss," she teased.

I gave her a playful slap as she got up and danced out my reach into the bedroom. I realised that taking the make-up off could take almost as long as putting it on. It was with a weird feeling inside me that I undressed, removing the skirt and blouse. I didn't quite know what it was. Regret? Julie freed me from the corset and gave me some privacy whilst I redressed in my shirt and jeans. When ready to go, I glanced in the mirror. My own clothes, no make-up, but the hair was still the same curled coiffed style. It would need to be washed out later. I was shocked at how much I still looked like a girl. Was it just a hairstyle, or did I somehow look different now? I shrugged and after begging a baseball cap off Julie to hide my curls, we left and she drove me home. We didn't talk much on the journey. We both seemed to have a lot occupying our minds. She stopped outside my flat and I gave her a rueful grin before getting out of the car, "Hell of a day, Jools."

She laughed and leant over and gave me a peck on the cheek, "It sure was."

I paused, "I'll ring you in the morning and, well, let you know."

She smiled, "Do that. Because if, well, if you are going to...we'll have a heck of a lot to do."
 

*          *          *
 
That evening, alone in my flat, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't settle to concentrate on anything. I tried to play first the keyboard and then the guitar to settle my mind. Unusually, I couldn't concentrate on the music as my mind kept drifting. The image of myself earlier that day kept coming back into my mind and phrases from my and Jools' conversation were playing over and over again in my mind. I tried to lie on the sofa, close my eyes and turn my stereo up loud and let the music soothe me. But it was all to no avail. Eventually at 10pm I gave up and decided to do the unthinkable -- go to bed early.

Surprisingly I fell into a deep sleep fairly quickly but it was a troubled sleep. I must have woken several times during the night and was aware of intense dreams. Whilst I couldn't exactly recall them, I knew they involved me singing and performing as, well as a girl. One time I woke in a cold sweat, my heart thumping. Some cold water on the face, and a drink of water helped settle me down and at last I got a decent period of undisturbed sleep.

I woke of my own accord and noticed it was just getting light. A quick check of my bedside clock revealed it was only 8 am. I hadn't woken of my own accord at this time for as long as I could remember. I lay there and thankfully, my mind seemed a little clearer. Some people say that sleeping on things, decisions, problems whatever, is definitely a good thing. I don't know whether the subconscious mind is able to process and work its way through things or not, but certainly I felt more settled this morning. I folded my arms behind my head and looked up at the ceiling. I realised that my mind was made up. I wasn't exactly sure when this had happened, but I knew what I was going to do. I reached out and grabbed the bedside phone. I was going to ring Jools and let her know now before I changed my mind.

After several rings she answered the phone and sounded decidedly sleepy, "Hello?"

I grinned to myself, "Jools? What are you still doing in bed? For heaven's sake woman, there's so much to be doing and you're sleeping in? Do you think this is what I pay an agent for?"

"Nick?" she said puzzledly. Then after a moment during which her brain obviously processed what I had said she continued, this time sounding much more lucid, "Nick! You mean...?" Her voice trailed off as if she was unsure what to say.

I chuckled, "Jools -- let's do it."

I heard a squeal from the other end of the phone, "You mean it? Now, are you sure? You aren't just winding me up? You've thought about this haven't you?"

"Slow down, Jools," I urged. "Yes, I have thought about it. I'm scared, no, I'm petrified. But if this is it, if this is the big one, I have to know, we have to find out."

"Oh my god," she whispered breathily, "I was up half the night worrying that you might not go for it. And then I was worried that you would so I was working out all we would need to do." She hardly paused for breath, "Right. Ok right. We need to sort some things out and get ready. I'll be right over, get some coffee on."

I laughed, "Alright Jools, you get some clothes on. See you soon."

I put the phone down and took a deep breath. I wasn't exactly sure about all the things I was feeling, but I knew that part of it was excitement. I showered and actually washed and conditioned my hair properly, before drying it and giving it a proper combing. I pulled on a clean T-shirt and pair of jeans and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was not really curly any more, but it was still sleek and wavy. It was quite feminine and being honest, I thought it looked well.

Not long after the coffee had percolated, the door buzzer chirped. I let Jools in and she came bounding up the stairs, straight in and threw her arms around me. I was startled, but returned the hug. She released me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Nick," she said breathlessly, "we are going to make it big. I think you've made an extremely brave decision, but I think it will pay off."

I shrugged feeling a bit uncomfortable, but forced a smile, "Well, I guess we owe it to ourselves to see anyway."

We sat down to some coffee and toast and Jools began, "OK Nick, for us to move ahead, tell me what you have thought about."

I paused and gathered my thoughts as best as I could, "Alright. The way I see it, if we are going to go for this, it has to be done as best as possible." I breathed deeply, "No half measures. And that scares me, but not as much as ballsing it all up by making a half-cocked attempt does." I paused and looked at her but she motioned for me to go on so I continued, "Another thing is that there should be no links between Nick Evans and the new me." I looked around the flat and with a rueful grin stated, "So I guess I can't really stay here. Not that I'm best buddies with the other tenants in the building, but they know me and if I start dressing in skirts and all, I think they might make the connection." I stopped and looked over at Jools, "What do you think?"

She nodded slowly, "I think you have it spot on and it's exactly what I have been thinking. I'm glad you've worked these things out for yourself though. To be honest, I don't think it's just a matter of not staying here any more, I think you should give your notice to the landlord and move out completely."

I raised my eyebrows, "Wow, sort of final isn't that?"

She nodded again, "Well yes. But I think the way we should do things should be to assume that it's going to work out, let's assume you get a record deal, let's assume you make it big. Hell, let's assume you become the next big name in music." She paused to let her words sink in before going on, "If so, you don't want to be haunted by us not having done things right at this time. You don't want any loose ends. Let's make the break, Nick, and let's go for it."

I took a long slow drink of my coffee. My mouth still felt dry though. After a few moments I nodded and sort of half-croaked, "OK Jools." I thought of the obvious, "OK, so I move out of here, what about my stuff and where am I going to live?"

She grinned, "Well, I've sort of thought about that and have an idea."

I mock-groaned, "Why am I not surprised?"

She shook her head, "Now now, none of that. What I was thinking is that we both head down to my parents' house on the south coast and we stay there for the next four weeks working on everything and give it all we can."

"Where do your parents live?"

"Between Plymouth and Seaton, a little village on the Devon coast," she replied.

"Umm, but Jools, I can't quite picture how this will work: Hi Mum and Dad, this is Nick, but he's going to become a girl, can we stay here?"

She laughed, "Silly. They won't be there. They spend most of the winter in Florida. I don't think they plan to be back until March or so."

"Well for some," I murmured. I guessed the Carstairs' import and export business was going well and someone else was doing the work whilst they enjoyed Florida's winters.

I thought some more, "I'll have to cancel my gigs at The Last Stop. What will I tell Dave McCann?"

Jools shrugged, "Remember, if all goes to plan, he'll never see Nick Evans again."

I mused, "Guess I could say I've got cheesed off with it all and am heading back to Wales to Music College or something."

She nodded, "Sounds good. That can be your story for tying up all your loose ends here."

"What about money though?" I wondered.

"It won't really be a big issue as you'll be staying at Mum and Dad's, but we will have some expenses: new wardrobe etc." She looked at me with a knowing look.

I sighed, "I know. Sell my songs to Sony. Ten grand."

"And 2% of the royalties, don't forget that!" she chirped in.

I nodded, "But where will 'Nick' be to collect the royalties, if there ever were any?"

She smiled, she'd obviously thought of that, "Fill in a bank transfer form as part of the agreement, they'll pay directly into your bank account. They don't need to know where you are."

I nodded, "Alright. I guess I'll not be needing those songs anymore."

We talked through other details. I was going to move most of my things into a storeroom at her office and leave my car at her place. I would bring most of my music equipment down to Devon so I could work on more songs. I was going to tell Mum and Dad I was going down there to get some peace to write new material and that I would get in touch with them in a few weeks. Mum and Dad. I didn't want to think about them as I had no idea how I could explain what we were contemplating. I tried not to think about that for now.

It was nearly lunchtime before we finished. It was Wednesday and we planned to head down to Devon first thing Saturday morning. Jools left and her parting shot was that I had two days to come up with a new name also.
 

*          *          *
 
The next two days were a flurry of activity. I spoke to my landlord and told him I was moving out at the weekend. He didn't shed any tears or anything and thankfully I was able to talk him down to one week's rent as my notice because he had someone looking to move in right away. I broke the news to Dave about having to cancel my gigs. He was obviously disappointed and I felt bad leaving him in the lurch. I felt bad about not being up front with him, but I couldn't really tell him what was going on. He wouldn't have believed it. I barely did.

Jools and I made countless trips across London in our cars ferrying my stuff to her place. She had been busy too. She had to contact all her clients and tell them she was taking a brief 'holiday' but would be contactable on her mobile for anything urgent.

I got the money from Sony, too. I talked with Simon Andrews on the phone and he seemed delighted that I had reconsidered. He was less happy when I added the 2% royalties clause, but when he realised I was going to walk away from the deal otherwise, he gave in. He wanted to meet again to finalise things, but I had no desire to meet him again as 'Nick' so I got out of it by flattering his ego. I said I was sure he was far too busy and if he left the contract and cheque at the reception on his floor, I'd call in, sign it and take the money. It worked and I did so without event. The money was duly lodged in my account.

On Friday night, all loose ends seemed to be tied up. I was staying in Jools' spare bedroom as my flat was empty and I had seen the last of it. It wasn't overly devastating. I had never really looked upon it as home. It was a place to stay in the interim until my number came up. Maybe that time was now. I didn't know, but as I drifted off to sleep I felt more than a little anticipation at what lay ahead tomorrow and beyond.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 3
 
 
Saturday morning started out as a crisp, clear late autumn day: frost on the ground and pale sunshine with a clear blue sky. We were on the road by just after 9 am as we had about a 5 hour journey ahead of us. Julie drove a 5 series BMW. She said it wasn't for the status, but more because it was to appease client expectations, give them confidence or something. Sure Jools.

We had managed to fit in all my music equipment and Jools' suitcases. Rather disconcertingly we hadn't packed any clothes or belongings for me. I understood why, but it sort of brought the finality of things home to me. At least with it being a Saturday the hateful London traffic was less than usual. It was never absent, but relatively speaking, the roads were quiet. Before long we were outside the perimeter of the M25 and heading down the A30 dual carriageway. We hadn't talked much so far as we were both still in the process of waking up completely.

"So have you decided yet?" Jools asked.

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

"A name," she said in a tone that indicated that I should obviously have known what she was asking me.

"Yes," I said a little hesitantly.

"Well?" she said impatiently, "Don't keep me in suspense."

I shrugged somewhat shyly, "Well I don't know if you'll like it or not..."

"Pfffft!" she said, or something that sounded like that, "It's more important that you like it, now come on, out with it."

"OK," I sighed, "it's Cara Malone."

She smiled, "Cara Malone?" She pondered and nodded slowly before repeating, "Cara Malone. I like it."

I looked over at her uncertainly, "You sure?"

"Definitely, it's classy, feminine and distinctive. Where did you get that from?"

I laughed a little, "To be honest, I don't really know. I've just been thinking about it over and over the past few days and when I woke up yesterday morning, it sort of just popped into my head. I liked it."

"Alright, Cara, we have a name then."

I felt myself blush a little as she called me by the new name. "That feels so strange," I murmured.

She giggled, "I thought it might, but seriously, from now on you have to be so conditioned to respond to Cara that you don't think about it. And the reverse: you don't respond to Nick."

I nodded. Of course she was right. As the journey progressed we chatted about this and that. Reminiscences, friends, music. She continued to refer to me as Cara as much as she could and after a while I didn't feel just so uncomfortable with it. I think I would have found it easier if, well if I looked more like a Cara. But I guessed that would come before much longer.

We stopped for coffee just outside Salisbury and again for lunch on the far side of Exeter. I didn't have much of an appetite. Excitement or nerves? I wasn't quite sure which. We had about another hour to drive.

"OK, the list," Jools said.

I grinned. She had this habit of talking as if I really should know what she meant when I had no clue. "The list?" I asked.

"Yes. The list of who knows."

"Of who knows?"

She sighed, "Yes c'mon Cara, keep with it. The list of people who know about you."

I think I caught her drift, "Ah I see. Well it's you and me isn't it."

She nodded, "Yes. I think we need to guard the list carefully."

I puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"I think we need to think very seriously before ever adding anyone to the list. And no-one gets added to the list without us discussing it and agreeing on it. You agree?"

"I guess," I replied, "But who else are we ever going to add to the list?" As I asked it, I realised some of the answers and continued, "Oh right. Like my folks and so on." I grimaced.

"Yes, but we can cross those bridges if and when we come to them. However there is one person I want to add to the list a lot sooner than that. In fact very soon."

I was intrigued, "How soon? And who?"

"Well," she checked the time, "In about 45 minutes. And it's Beth, my sister."

"Beth," I said slowly and thoughtfully. Beth Carstairs was Julie's younger sister. Two years younger if I remembered correctly which put her about 25 years old. I had met her once or twice when she was up visiting Jools in London but didn't really know her at all.

"Umm why do we have to add her? Does she live at your parents' home?"

"Well, yes she does, but that's only one of the reasons we should add her," Jools replied. She went on to ask, "Do you know what Beth does?"

I racked my brain. I may have been told before but couldn't remember. "No sorry, I can't remember."

Jools looked over at me and gave me one of those smiles which always made me nervous. "Well Cara, she sort of runs her own business in Plymouth."

I knew she was dragging this out but I played along, "What's her business?"

"She owns a salon."

"A salon?" I asked, "What sort of salon?" I had a fair idea and knew where this was likely to be heading.

"She runs a beauty salon. And she's pretty darned good at it too."

If she was anything like as determined as her older sister, I could well believe that. "I see," I replied.

"You do?" Jools asked.

I nodded, "Well, I need to become Cara in many ways. And I imagine Beth has certain...skills, which would be helpful to that end."

She grinned at me, "You're very understanding. But you are right and I think Beth will be invaluable to us. Err, you know how I said earlier about us discussing and agreeing together before adding someone else to the list?" She sounded a little tentative.

"You've already told Beth," I said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," she replied guiltily. "Are you annoyed?"

I shrugged. I wasn't so why pretend to be. "No, it's fine." I looked at her watching me worriedly so I smiled, "It's fine, really."

She smiled looking somewhat relieved. "It's just I had to tell her in advance to make sure she can help this afternoon."

"Go on," I said, "this afternoon?"

"Yes, I figured that we shouldn't delay your 'conversion' into Cara. Minimise the chances of anyone down here seeing you as you are now. No point wasting time, we may as well get on with it. So anyways, the salon closes at lunchtime on Saturdays but Beth is going to stay behind and meet us there. There'll be no-one else there and she can work her magic on you. I've got her to get a few things that we will need."

I just smiled, "Jools, it's as well I trust you and I'm glad you are my friend. I sure wouldn't want you for an enemy."

I think she almost blushed which would be a first, "Oh you," she said dismissively and returned her full attention to the road ahead. We were nearing the outskirts of Plymouth and I felt the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach grow stronger the closer we got.
 

*          *          *
 
"La Belle Femme" was on a relatively quiet side-street off Mayflower Street in Plymouth town centre. Jools pulled up right outside and illegally parked.

"Can you leave the car here?" I asked.

"Not really," she grinned, "but I won't be leaving it too long so it'll be Ok."

"You aren't?" I puzzled, "I thought we would be here for some time?"

She laughed, "Oh you and Beth will be, but I was going to head out to Silsbury Manor and get some things unpacked."

"Silsbury manor," I pondered, "that's your parents' home?"

She nodded and I raised my eyebrows wondering what to expect. But then I refocused, "Hold on, so you are leaving me here alone with Beth?"

She looked at me with a little smile, "She won't bite you know."

I shrugged awkwardly, "I know, but well it's just sort of weird enough let alone being with someone I don't know while undergoing..." I searched for words, "well my transformation."

Julie squeezed my arm, "Trust me, you'll get on fine with Beth. Plus I think it will be good for you two to get to know each other. Beth will be helping us a fair bit over the next few weeks."

I sighed and grinned ruefully, "Alright, guess I'll have to trust you. Yet again."

We got out of the car and Jools knocked on the door of the salon. The blinds were down but it wasn't long before the door opened and there was Beth. She gave Jools a big hug, "Heya big sis, good to see you."

"You too," laughed Jools returning the hug.

We stepped inside and Beth turned to me and a little shyly said, "Hi, you must be Nick." She went as if to shake my hand but then shrugged and reached up and gave me a little hug.

Jools grinned, and looking at me said, "Oh it's not Nick anymore, sure it's not?"

I grimaced a little but forced a faint smile and turned to Beth, "No it's not Nick anymore, I'm...Cara Malone."

She smirked, not unpleasantly, "Well hi Cara, it's great to meet you. Jools has filled me in on most of the details and I think you're extremely brave to give this a go."

I half-laughed, half-snorted, "Or maybe it's extremely foolish I'm not quite sure."

I noticed Beth staring at me, she seemed to be appraising me, "Oh I don't know," she mused, "I'd say you have great potential."

I blushed and didn't quite know what to say and thankfully Jools stepped in, "Right, how about getting things kicked off, there's lots to do."

"Yes you're right," Beth said. "Alright Ni...Cara, do you want to pop into this cubicle here and change out of these boring clothes and put on the items you'll find in there?"

I figured the question was rhetorical so I just smiled and nodded before heading into the cubicle. I wasn't sure what I would find there, but it was just a simple white robe. Oh and then I noticed the skimpy black nylon panties on the chair. Well, I thought to myself, this is what I'm here for. So I pulled off my shoes, socks, T-shirt, jeans and boxer shorts. I slipped on the panties and again noted to myself the lack of unpleasant sensations on doing so. I think that was as much as I could bring myself to admit at the moment. I wrapped the robe around me. It came to around my knees. I gathered up my clothes in my arms and stepped outside.

Jools smiled at me, "Want me to take those?" she offered.

"Err OK," I replied, "what are you going to do with them?"

She smiled gently at me, "What do you think I should do with them, Cara?"

I swallowed and then nodded, "I guess you should just get rid of them somewhere." I paused, "I'll not be needing them again I guess."

She smiled and gave me a little peck on the cheek as she took the clothes from me, "I'll see you both later and I think you'll be looking quite different Cara by the time I get back." She headed for the door and turning to Beth before she left, "Give me a ring on my mobile when you are nearly done and I'll scoot back over. Have fun you girls!"

She went out, got back into her car and drove off. I looked at Beth and she smiled at me. "Are you ready?" she asked gently. I grinned and nodded, "As ready as I'll ever be I guess."

She grinned back, "OK, well first things first. Body hair. Or rather getting rid of it more like."

I smiled wryly, "Shouldn't be too big a job, I'm not exactly what you'd call the hairiest."

She nodded, "Good, but we still need to get things right, from now on it's hairlessness we need. What I was planning was to do a full all-over body wax if that's Ok."

I shrugged, "Erm I guess. I'm thinking it will be painful, but you know best."

She nodded and smiled apologetically, "It will be painful, I am afraid, but it will give good lasting results. Far better than shaving, and actually less longterm skin irritation compared with most depilatory preparations."

"Ok then," I said trying to sound brave, "Let's get started."

She brought me over to a couch, "Now Cara, you'll need to remove your robe for this."

I nodded and removed the robe feeling more than a little embarrassed as I climbed up onto the couch. She began with my legs and spread hot wax onto the front surfaces of them. It actually felt quite nice and soothing. That was until she started to strip the wax off. It felt like she was tearing my skin off. It brought tears to my eyes and took all my self-control to stop myself from crying out or reaching down to stop her.

She smiled up at me sympathetically but carried on as quickly as she could. Then she had me roll over and repeated the process on the backs of my legs. When she finished that, it felt as if my legs were on fire. But there was more to come. The same procedure was repeated on my arms. She took a razor to my armpits as she explained that waxing would be too painful. I found it hard to imagine it being any more painful than it had been thus far so I was grateful. I had very little back and chest hair and I was glad. The removal of what little I had was nigh on excruciating.

"Darn," I muttered through gritted teeth, "I hope I don't have to get this done too often."

She looked at me and smiled, "We can think about other techniques that would have...more lasting effect for next time." She paused and looked a bit uncomfortable, "Cara...this is a little bit delicate. But...well, as we will be trying to minimise any 'bulge' down there," she indicated my groin region, "it might be an idea to remove the hair from there." She looked embarrassed herself.

I nodded and said slowly, "Err alright. You want me to remove my panties?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Only if you are comfortable enough with this."

I laughed a little at that, "I wouldn't call it comfortable, but it's fine." I slipped them off and felt very vulnerable lying there. Beth took the razor and gently and gingerly began to shave. After a few minutes she looked up and said, "Sorry but I'm going to have to..." and she lifted my privates to shave around and below. I exerted all the willpower I could, but couldn't help from preventing some stirring in that region. Beth was a very attractive woman. She was petite and slim with long auburn hair.

"I'm really sorry, Beth," I murmured feeling mortified.

"Don't be," she reassured, "I'm basically done. You want to slip your panties back on?"

I can safely say I was never as glad to pull on a pair of skimpy black panties as I was then. I was now hairless from my neck down. She then explained that she was going to rub in some moisturiser to minimise any skin irritation. This was the nice part as she massaged the cool cream into my skin all over. I lay back and closed my eyes and relished in the soothing sensations. I was almost disappointed when she was finished.

"Right. Hair," she said brightly as she gestured towards the washbasin. I sat down in the chair in front and laid my head back onto the shaped edge of the basin. She began to rinse with steaming hot water and I closed my eyes enjoying the relaxing feeling. Shampoo, conditioner and dear knows what else, then another good rinse and she was done.

"Your hair is lovely and soft," she said, "But it could be in better condition. Don't you look after it?" She almost sounded accusing.

"Erm, well no, not really. Sorry."

I think she must have seen the look of guilt in my eyes, she laughed, "Sorry I didn't mean to get heavy-handed, but from now on you are going to have to look after it much better."

I nodded, "Sure" as she began to comb it out. She lightly dried it off with a hairdryer before stopping and sitting down in front of me. She smiled at me, "How do you feel about hair extensions?"

"Umm hair extensions?" I said not knowing how I felt about them at all.

"Yes, hair extensions. Your hair is of reasonable length, but I think it would look so much better if it came down to about here," she gestured to just below my shoulder blades. "I'm pretty sure I'll have an exact match here and trust me, no-one will spot the fact that they are extensions. It'll be as real as your own hair."

I shrugged and felt my heart quicken. The pace of all this was accelerating but then I knew it would have to. I forced a smile, "Sure. No half measures eh?"

She grinned, "I know Jools told me you were willing to go all out for this, but I just want to check each step of the way."

"Thanks," I said softly and I meant it.

She came back with a few different shades of hair extensions and finding one that matched mine exactly, began to weave them in. It took quite some time and I just closed my eyes and let her get on with it. Once done, she brushed vigorously through my hair and nodded, "There we go, impossible to tell. Now for a bit of style. I was going to give you a permawave if that's alright."

I laughed, "It's fine, but you'll have to tell me what it is first."

She laughed too, "I keep forgetting that you are not one of my regular customers and that you don't understand the lingo. A permawave is somewhere between a perm, and a little waviness in your hair. So it won't be totally curly, but it has more body than just a little wave in your hair. Ok?"

I nodded and grinned, "Sure, fire away. I'm in your hands."

She weaved my hair in and out of what looked like long rollers. It wasn't as tightly wound as the other day when Jools did it. Then she sprayed something strong smelling over my hair and placed what looked like a large shower cap over my hair. "Ok, we leave that for about half an hour, then rinse your hair and get you on the dryer."

"What's next then, boss?" I asked.

She grinned, "Well I was wondering what you think about your facial hair."

I smiled lamely, "There isn't much to wonder about. I haven't shaved for 2 days now on Jool's instructions and as you can see, there isn't much to write home about."

She nodded, "That's probably a good thing." She paused and began hesitantly, "How would you feel about permanent removal of facial hair?"

I paused and whilst initially reacting against such a suggestion, realised that it made little difference. "Well, I guess I'm never planning on growing much of a beard no matter what the future holds. So, in that case, I guess I'm open to suggestions."

She nodded, "I can give you a number of electrolysis treatments over the next few weeks which will essentially effect permanent loss of facial hair. Think about it, no more shaving!"

I smiled cautiously, "I can see the advantages."

"And because you don't have much in the way of facial hair, the treatments will be mild, should be effective, and without side-effects. So what do you think?"

I shrugged, "Go for it, I guess."

She got her kit and began to work on my face applying a small electrical current to each hair for about 15 seconds. It took about half an hour or so before she was done. She rubbed a hand over my face and smiled, "Baby smooth."

I smiled, I didn't quite know how to react. She continued, "I'll repeat this once a week or so over the next month and depending on how well we get on, we may need a repeat treatment once a month or so. Or we may not."

She brought me back over to the sink and, removing the cap, rinsed the foul smelling stuff out of my hair. She put the rollers back in again and then sat me down under one of those big hair-dryer helmet things. "About half an hour here to dry. Whilst your hair is drying, I was thinking I could work on your nails."

"My nails?" I asked

"Yes. I could paint your toenails and then give you a new set of fingernails."

"Umm, why bother to paint my toenails, and what do you mean a new set of fingernails?"

She smiled patiently, "Why the toenails?" She shrugged, "It's part of the overall effect I guess. No-one sees them often, but you do and it conditions you in a small way perhaps. By a new set of fingernails I basically mean a set of acrylic nails which are essentially glued on over yours. They look perfect, they are hard, durable and stylishly feminine."

I shrugged, "Well OK I guess."

She began to paint my toenails a deep reddish brown colour explaining that she felt it fitted in well with my natural colouring. After a few coats I was sitting there with bits of cotton wool between my toes to keep them apart whilst drying. She got a set of nails and after measuring a few against my fingers she decided on the right size. "How long do you want them to be?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said wrinkling my brow, "What do you think?"

She shrugged, "You can have them as long as you like, up to an inch if you wanted."

I screwed up my face, "No, that wouldn't do. It'd affect my guitar and piano playing." I pondered, "Although a little bit of length would help my guitar finger picking I guess. How about this long or so?" I asked indicating a distance of about 3 or 4 millimetres.

"Great!" she said, "Now what about colour?" Seeing the familiar blank look on my face she laughed, "You can have them clear like ordinary unpainted nails, but to be honest, then you have the hassle of having to paint them. You can get them coloured and then you don't have to worry about painting them, but if you want to, you can paint another colour over them. Now make sure you realise, once these are on, they are on until they grow out basically."

I felt a little overwhelmed and just asked her to do what she thought was best. She selected a dark reddish-brown colour and began her work. I rested back under the dryer and I think with the warmth I must have drifted off. She gently shook me, "Come on sleeping beauty. There's more to be doing," she chuckled.

I blinked a few times as I felt a little disorientated and went to rub my eyes and scratched myself, "Ow," I complained. I looked down at my hands and saw my new nails. I was awestruck. I stretched out my fingers and looked at them one way, then another.

"Beautiful aren't they?" murmured Beth.

"Yes," I said without thinking. "Umm, that is, they make my hands look slimmer and more..."

"Feminine?" she prompted. I grinned and shrugged awkwardly.

Placing the cap back on over my dry hair and leaving the rollers in place she brought me back into what looked like a dressing room. "Now," she said. "I've got something special for you in this box."

She opened the box and lifted two familiar shaped objects out of them. They were obviously breast forms. "These are very special, state of the art stuff," she told me, "Finest silicon forms with a synthetic latex covering that is the closest to mocking natural skin I've seen. They don't come cheap, but Jools insisted we cut no corners in this area."

I looked at them, "They look quite big."

She smiled and shrugged, "Jools thought that as you are trying to make an impact with your music and your image why would you want to skimp in this area."

I rolled my eyes.

"Now, I've got some medical adhesive here," she demonstrated. "Pasting this onto your chest and the underside of the breasts will ensure they stay in place and move appropriately. I think it lasts for about a month at a time." Walking towards me, she raised her eyebrows, "Shall I?"

I nodded and swallowed. "Sure," I croaked.

She applied the adhesive and then held the breast forms onto my chest making sure the positioning was perfect. She held them firm for about 5 minutes before letting go. The feeling was one of the strangest feelings I have ever had. I felt unbalanced and the sensation of movement in front of me did not feel right at all.

"Well?" she asked, "How do they feel?"

"I -- I don't know," I stammered, "It's sort of weird."

"Feel them," she encouraged.

I lifted my hands and cupped my breasts. They felt pretty real. I raised my eyebrows. Beth noticed.

"Good aren't they?" she asked with a smile.

I nodded, "They feel very realistic."

"They look it too, even without a bra or anything. Look," she gestured to a mirror. She was right, they did look very real. They didn't quite match my skin tone but apart from that, they looked like the real McCoy.

The next step was another corset and it was just like the other day as she laced me in tight. It had the effect of constricting my waist down as before, but also pushed my breasts up and out more.

"Beth?" I asked, "What size are these breasts just out of interest?"

She smiled, "D cup."

I rolled my eyes, "Did you have to get such...big ones?"

She laughed, "No half measures, remember? And sure, the guys will love it."

My face felt as if it was burning and I felt as if I had been hit in the stomach. The guys? To be perfectly honest, I really hadn't considered the prospect of interacting with guys as a woman. Or the effect I might have on them. It was very disconcerting. I was distracted from thinking about it further as Beth handed me a small flesh coloured garment.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's a gaff," she explained. "It's to help hide any bulges, you know, down below. I'll turn away and you can slip it on and put your panties back on. If you need any help, just ask." She winked mischievously.

I worked out how it went on and as I pulled it up and on tight, it had the desired effect. I replaced my panties and told Beth I was ready. Next she handed me a pair of stockings and having watched how Jools had put them on me the other day, I was able to do it reasonably well myself. Beth seemed impressed. I clipped them onto the suspenders at the bottom of my corset and stood up waiting for what was to come.

"Here you go Cara," she smiled, "Your first dress." She handed me a little black dress and I took it and looked at it. My first dress. I gathered that it was meant to go on over my head, there was no zip or anything so I shrugged and slipped it on. I pulled it down, straightened it and made sure it fit well around my breasts and then I tugged the hem down. It was long-sleeved, form fitting and came to just above my knees.

Again I had to admit to myself that wearing a dress and stockings didn't feel unpleasant. In fact, the sensation of stockings on my recently waxed, now smooth legs was quite exquisite. I was glad I didn't have to admit this out loud though.

"Nice," mused Beth. "Now for some shoes." She handed me a pair of shiny black shoes. They had a 2 inch or so heel and I slipped them on. Of course they fit perfectly. The Carstairs girls didn't seem to get much wrong.

She brought me over to a make up chair, which wasn't facing a mirror and I sat down. She looked at my face, "Your eyes are a strong feature. So deep and brown, we'll be able to bring them out nicely." She began by rubbing moisturiser into my face and a similar procedure followed like the other day with foundation being added shortly afterwards and setting powder.

"Eyebrows," she said.

"What about them?" I asked having a suspicion as to what was coming.

"I was going to pluck them to make them look more feminine if that's OK?" she asked.

"Work away," I said, "That's what I'm here for."

It was painful and brought tears to my eyes. She plucked, plucked and plucked until was sure I had no eyebrows left. At last she was satisfied and sat back and smiled. "There, that looks much better." She began to apply eye-liner and several shades of eye shadow before coating my lashes with mascara. Again some rouge and then lipstick. She chose a rich red-brown colour and carefully painted my lips and then added some gloss.

She sprayed me with some perfume and winked, "Jools said to ensure the whole experience was given." I snorted.

"Oh," she said, "I almost forgot." She went and brought a box over from the bench, "Jools and I got you this as a little sort of starting out present." She smiled shyly.

"What is it?" I smiled curiously.

"Open it," she urged.

I opened the box and inside was a jewellery set. Gold. Not cheap looking. I looked up, "Wow. This looks...lovely."

She smiled and lifted out a medium sized gold chain and fixed it around my neck. I picked out a gold watch, "Really lovely," I mused as I slipped it on my left wrist. She placed a thin gold chain on my right wrist. There were two rings in the box, one went on the ring finger of my right hand, and the other on the third finger of my left hand. All that remained in the box was a pair of gold hoop earrings. I lifted them out and soon realised that they weren't clip-ons.

"Umm, these aren't clip-ons," I said stating the obvious. "They are for pierced ears." I looked up at Beth.

She smiled and nodded, "Yes, well they came as part of the set, sorry."

I paused and thought. I looked up at her again. I took a deep breath and swallowed again. "Err, well I suppose...well it might be an idea..." I swallowed and continued, "It might be an idea to get my ears pierced...?" my voice trailed off and I added, "what do you think?"

She smiled and squeezed my arm. "Jools and I both think so, but we didn't want to force you into anything. But yes, if you are going for this all out, then it probably does make sense."

I nodded and fingered the gold hoops in my hands. They were really lovely. I nodded and chewed my lower lip for a moment before speaking, "OK, yes. Can you do it?"

She smiled, "Sure I can. Now do you want to put those hoops in now or studs? It will take about 4 weeks before the holes are healed and you can change earrings."

"Umm, the hoops are nice," I said.

She nodded, "Alright then." She got some ice and placed it against my left ear for a moment and then pierced it with her piercing gun. It was like a dull ache. She worked the hoop into place and then repeated the procedure with my right ear. It was another strange sensation to add to all the others: feeling earrings swing in my ears.

She sat and looked at me for a moment without speaking. I noticed and asked, "What is it?" She shook her head, but I persisted, "No come on, what is it?"

She shrugged, "Well I was just thinking. Well it depends on what sort of image you're going for, but if you're aiming to be a female star, musician whatever, well I was thinking you might want to think about more piercings? And if so, well if you proceeded now, they would be healed and good to go in 4 weeks. Just a thought."

I thought about it. I could see her point. But part of me was recoiling against it. I weighed it up and decided she definitely had a point and given I wasn't sure what grounds I had particularly for disagreeing.

"No half measures?" I said softly. She smiled and nodded. I asked, "What do you suggest?"

"Well, I was thinking that if I pierced each ear once more at least, that would probably be enough for now."

I took a deep breath, "OK"

"OK? You want me to?"

I nodded slowly, "Yes sure, go for it."

"Alright," she smiled, "I'll just put little gold studs in this time. The procedure was repeated in both ears. As she did it, I wondered what would happen if I was ever going to try to go back to being Nick, but I put that thought out of my head as it wasn't exactly helpful to the current situation.

"Nearly done," she said. She took the cap off my head and removed the rollers. Another vigorous brushing of my hair ensued and eventually she was done. She stood back and got me to stand up. I complied.

She gave a low whistle. "Well I never." I looked at her questioningly. She continued, "Jools told me how good you looked the other day, but I didn't think she meant this good. I mean, this is incredible. If I didn't know otherwise, I would swear blind that you are and always had been a woman. Unbelievable."

I felt my curiosity getting the better of me, "Can I see please?"

She brought me into the dressing room where there was a full-length mirror and I stopped dead in my tracks. It was like the other day only much more so this time. I had flowing long, sleek wavy black hair, pencil-thin eyebrows which at that current time were trying their best to make it up my forehead to my hairline. Perfectly made up, absolutely perfectly. I guessed Beth was pretty good at what she did. The dress clung to my figure which was shapely to say the least. The breasts were prominent, the waist narrow and my legs looked long and shapely.

"She was right," Beth mused.

"Hmm?" I said as my mind tried to regain control of my body.

"Jools said that when I was done with you I'd agree."

"Agree what?"

"She said you were absolutely gorgeous and would make me completely green with envy to look at you."

I waved a hand dismissively at her and winced, "Nonsense."

"No seriously," she said softly, "I see a lot of women in here, most not particularly beautiful, but some are. I'm not sure I've seen anyone in here more beautiful than you."

I didn't know what to say. "Thanks," I heard myself say as I turned to look at myself in the mirror again.

"You know," she said, "If you can sing half as good as you look, beware world because here comes Cara Malone!"
 

*          *          *
 
Time was marching on, it was well after seven and Beth had rang Jools to say there was little point in her coming back in to us. We would both come on out to Silsbury Manor in Beth's car. Beth handed me a short black jacket and after slipping it on, I stepped outside the salon. As she locked the door I felt extremely uncomfortable. It must have been obvious.

"What's wrong Cara?" she asked softly right beside me.

"Umm, I dunno," I replied, "I think I just feel very strange outside looking like I do and dressed like this." I paused, "I keep thinking people are going to start laughing and pointing or something."

She chuckled softly and took me by the arm as we walked round to the back of the salon to where her little Renault was parked, "Honey, trust me, they may stop and stare but there would be no laughing or pointing. Jealous looks, looks of desire maybe, but no-one is ever going to think you are anything other than a beautiful woman." She added, "Especially after the next 4 weeks."

I didn't know whether to be reassured or more disconcerted. It worked both ways on different levels. I mean, if I was wearing a black dress and made up to the nines, I was quite happy to be thought of as a woman. However the comment about no-one ever thinking I was anything but a woman? Was this a one-way trip I wondered? What if things didn't work out? I put these thoughts out of my head as Beth opened the passenger door for me.

"Sit down bottom first and then swing both legs in together," she murmured to me.

I did as she instructed and it was quite a strange movement compared to my normal one leg in first, then body, then other leg manoeuvre. I must have completed it satisfactorily though as she grinned at me and drove off. We drove for about 4 or 5 miles out of town into the dark countryside before Beth told me we were nearly there.

"Now," she said, "let me warn you. My parent's house is quite big. It can be quite overwhelming to first time visitors."

I shrugged but still I couldn't help but give a sharp intake of breath as she rounded the bend in the coastal road and I saw the lighted mansion on the next headland.

"You weren't half kidding," I murmured.

She smiled almost a little embarrassedly, "Yes well, I know."

"How long have your folks lived there?"

"Oh they got this place built about 17 years ago. It's not that old a building. So I was about 8 years old when we moved here. It's the only home really that Jools and I remember."

She pressed a button on a remote device beside her and the large wrought iron gates that we had driven up to began to slowly open. We drove through and began a slow drive up the long driveway to the house. Again another remote button pressed and one of the 4 garage doors slid open to admit her car. We climbed out and I saw Jools' car there alongside a sleek Jaguar and a sporty Mercedes. Her parents' cars I presumed. She led me over to a staircase at one side of the garage and keyed in a code on the lock beside the door at the top. We entered the house and about 10 seconds later Jools came dashing around a corner.

"Let me see, let me see," she said breathlessly.

Beth grinned and stood aside leaving me in the middle of the hallway standing there shyly. I smiled a little unsurely.

"Oh -- my -- god," Jools said slowly. She stared at me and shook her head slowly, "Oh my god," she repeated.

After an awkward moment's silence, I cleared my throat, "Umm do I look OK, Jools?"

She laughed, "Cara, darling, you are unbelievably gorgeous. I can't believe you were ever a man."

I winced again but figured pointing out the offensiveness of her statement would be inappropriate given that she meant it as a compliment.

Jools turned to Beth, "You are an absolute wizard sis."

Beth laughed and shook her head, "An artist is only as good as the raw material and the raw material in this case was awesome."

Jools grinned and inspected me closely. She took my hands in hers and ooh'ed at my nails, she winked at me as she looked at my breasts. She gently stroked my smooth cheek and then she noticed my earrings. She raised an eyebrow and asked me, "Were these your own decision?"

I nodded and smiled feeling quite embarrassed. "No half measures you know Jools," I quipped. She turned to Beth and raised an eyebrow.

"It was her choice," Beth replied indignantly, "I did not force her at all."

"OK OK," Jools said placatingly before turning back to me, "Just checking. I just want to make sure you're comfortable with everything Cara."

I laughed out loud, "Comfortable?" I grinned, "I wouldn't quite say that, but I'm aware of the need for all this and I'm still fully committed to it."

Jools grinned, "Fully committed?" She gestured to me and winked, "No kidding."

Before I could retort or pinch her or something, she clapped her hands, "So who's hungry?"

I suddenly realised I was absolutely starving. Not surprising really since Beth and I hadn't eaten anything all afternoon. We both made noises of confirmation and Jools led the way to the kitchen. The house was amazing. The hall was wooden panelled, wooden floored and very tastefully decorated. The kitchen was large and spacious. An Aga cooker in the corner made it warm and cosy and large French windows overlooked what I imagined in daylight would be a very pleasant view. We sat down at the table and Jools served us generous helpings of steaming cottage pie.

As I tucked in happily, I asked Jools, "Did you make this? It's really good."

She chuckled, "I resent your implication. But you are quite correct. I didn't make it, Mabel did."

I raised an eyebrow a forkful halfway to my mouth, "Mabel?"

She nodded, "Mabel Finniston is the housekeeper. She and her husband Sam live in the gate lodge. You probably didn't notice it in the dark as you drove in. Sam is the groundsman cum gardener cum handyman whatever. They're both in their sixties and have been working for Mum and Dad since we moved in here." She shrugged, "They're more like grandparents to us I guess."

I nodded and ate a few more mouthfuls before something struck me, "Umm Jools. Are they...well, are they on the list?"

Beth looked puzzled, but I knew Jools understood. She replied, "No they are not. I wasn't planning on telling them. It wouldn't be a problem, but looking at how you've turned out, I can't imagine any need to tell them."

I took a slow breath and murmured, "My first real test I guess." I was going to have to convince two people up close for a lengthy period of time that I was a woman. It was quite a daunting prospect.

We finished up dinner. I wasn't able to eat as much as I had thought I would which puzzled me. When I mentioned it to the girls, Beth grinned and pinched my waist, "I think your new corset might have something to do with that. Probably not a bad thing too. It will teach you to have a woman's appetite."

I grimaced and said with mock-drama, "The trials of being a woman."

We took cups of hot coffee into a comfortable little sitting room. It was very homely and I gladly sank into a soft chair.

"Cara?" Jools asked.

"Mmm?" I replied.

"I was thinking. Voice," she said enigmatically.

"Voice?" I replied, "What's wrong with my voice? Sure that's what got me into all this."

Jools looked puzzled for a moment, "Oh wait, not your singing voice. I was thinking, your speaking voice. You're going to need to do something with it don't you think? I mean, it's not as if you've got the most...," she stopped.

"Go on," I said with a sigh having a good idea what was coming.

"Sorry," she said wincing, "I was going to say it's not as if you have the most manly voice. I'm really sorry. But do you think you can do something with it? I mean, how about trying to speak from your throat or something, rather than from the bottom of your chest."

I pondered and nodded. I thought about it a bit and then felt I was ready to try something out. I noticed both of them looking at me expectantly. "Umm," I said in my normal voice, "I think I can try something, but I feel sort of awkward, I don't know what to say."

Beth clicked her fingers and reached down beside her chair and pulled out a magazine. It was a woman's magazine and she opened it at one of the short stories it contained. "Why don't you just read and see what you can do," she suggested helpfully.

It was a good idea so I took it and got ready to read. I closed my eyes and mentally imagined myself as a woman about to speak, sort of like I had done when singing before. I began to read out loud. I made my voice a little softer, but not weak or whispery. I did as Jools said and tried to speak from my throat or even my mouth, rather than from my chest. I read on and on and made little adjustments here or there. As I read more, I tried to forget that the voice reading was mine and as I listened to myself speak, I felt the same disconcerting feeling that I had felt when listening to myself sing as a woman. I wasn't sure what Jools or Beth would think, but to my ears, the voice speaking was a woman.

I stopped reading and looked up at them. They both were staring at me trance-like. They looked at each other and then looked back at me. "Wow," Beth murmured.

"Wow indeed," Jools said with a growing smile. "Cara, you have a lovely voice and I don't just mean your singing voice. And how's about the Welsh accent!"

"Sorry?" I said, still trying to speak in the woman's voice.

She grinned, "You've got your accent back again!"

I thought about it and realised she was right. Since moving up to London 5 years ago, my natural Welsh accent had become dulled to the point that no-one realised I was from Wales anymore. But now, speaking as Cara, the familiar lilt was back in my voice. I smiled, quite happy about this.

"Well, I don't know how it happened, but I guess it's a bonus," I replied. Yes, the lilt was there.

Jools smiled at me, "That voice, from that face on that body..." she shook her head and left her statement unfinished. I felt my cheeks flush, but I couldn't help myself from smiling. I couldn't help myself from yawning shortly after that too and I noticed Jools and Beth both catching the contagious yawn.

"Let's give you a quick tour, and then we can show you to your room," Jools said standing up from her chair, "You must be tired, I know I am."

I smiled and nodded, "It's been quite a day."

They showed me around the house. It was quite something. I loved the library with its wall to wall shelves and books on anything under the sun. Apparently their Dad was an avid reader. The formal drawing room was lavishly furnished, and I was almost afraid to touch anything for fear of tarnishing it. The dining room was a spacious room which had windows on three sides and a long shiny oblong table in the middle of it. But it was the room at the end of the hall that I really warmed to. I think Jools purposefully kept it to last. She smiled as she opened the door.

She turned on the light and I entered a largish room with a lacquered wooden floor. Along one wall was one big mirror with a wooden rail at waist height. I noted my music equipment was stashed against the opposite wall. But it was the far end of the room that caught my attention. There was a massive bay window and in front of it was a polished black baby grand piano. My eyes lit up and I turned to Jools with a goofy grin. "Wow, err can I?"

She grinned and gave a mock-frown, "Oh now, I don't know..." She laughed unable to keep a straight face, "Oh go on, of course you can."

I sat down on the stool and reverently and cautiously lifted the lid. I paused and then began to play. I wasn't sure what I was playing. It didn't really matter. The lush tones of the piano combined with the delightful acoustics of the room brought a dreamy smile to my face. After a few minutes I stopped and turned round.

Before I could say anything, Beth winked at Jools, "OK, she can certainly play, but can she sing?"

I grinned and turned back to the piano, rising to the challenge. I mentally prepared myself and gave them 'Show me Heaven'." I gave it everything and lost myself in the moment before slowly bringing myself back to earth as the song finished. I turned round and nimbly got to my feet. I think it must have been the adrenaline from playing that made me do what I did next. I haughtily tossed my head and smiled at Beth with a little wink saying, "Oh the girl can most certainly sing."

Both she and Jools burst out laughing. Between giggles Beth tried to speak, "With your voice and that attitude, I can see why you and Jools are going to such lengths." I couldn't help from joining in the laughter too.

"This is a great room," I enthused. "What's the mirror for?"

Jools and Beth looked at each other and rather sheepishly Beth explained, "Well, when we were young girls, we were both sort of keen on ballet."

I laughed as I pictured them pirouetting or such like, "No kidding."

"Oh don't you laugh," Jools warned, "This room has other uses too. Like very good for aerobics."

I grimaced, "Sounds like hard work."

She smiled, "It is and it will be. Us girls have to keep toned and stay in shape."

"What's the view like?" I mused aloud.

Beth replied nonchalantly, "Oh you know, nothing special. Cliff, beach below, crashing waves and the like."

Jools interjected, "Think you could write some more songs in this room?"

I nodded, "Oh most definitely, I think I could spend a lot of time in here."
 

*          *          *
 
The girls gave me the upstairs tour. The house must have had about six bedrooms! They showed me to one of the guest bedrooms. I think it was the largest bedroom I had ever stayed in with a large queen size double bed to boot. And it had its own ensuite shower room too. Beth said her good night and I thanked her sincerely for her help earlier in the day. Jools hung back and asked if I wanted any help removing my makeup. I gratefully accepted and she patiently teacher-like talked me through each step getting me to do it myself. Then she told me to give my hair a good brushing and rather mother-like left me in no doubt that I should give it the old standard hundred brushes morning and night. I slipped off my necklace, bracelet and rings.

"Err Jools," I pondered, "What do I wear, you know, to bed?"

She smiled and walked over to my bed. She lifted my pillow and grinning, lifted a sleeveless black silk nightdress. "How's this?"

I chuckled, "I guess it's grand. What about the corset?"

Jools thought, "Well, I think it would be useful to keep it on but maybe loosen it a lot. I think it'll be good for developing your figure. Do you want a hand?"

I smiled, "Do you mind?"

She helped me out of my dress and showed me how to remove my stockings without getting a run in them. She helped me loosen the corset and I revelled in the relative freedom of that. I slipped on the nightdress.

"How does it feel?" Jools asked curiously.

I felt a little embarrassed as I replied, "Erm, well it feels really nice to be honest." It did. It was soft and silky. It wasn't restricting, it was airy.

She grinned, "I thought you'd like it."

I caught a glimpse of myself in the dressing table mirror and paused. No make up at all. Yet still it was a woman looking back at me. Was it just the hair? The earrings? The figure or the nightdress? Or a combination of all of the above? I wasn't sure. Jools asked me what was wrong and I explained what I was thinking. She smiled and asked me if it really mattered what explained it. I guess it didn't and told her so. She said goodnight and was heading for the door when she paused as if wanting to say something more.

"What is it Jools?" I asked as I sat on the edge of my bed.

She hesitated, but slowly made her way back to my bed and sat down beside me. She sat in silence looking thoughtful for a moment before looking sideways at me. "No half measures, isn't that what you said?" she asked softly.

I smiled back at her, "Well, if I'm going to do it, I think that's the right approach don't you?"

She nodded, "Absolutely. It's just that there was something else I was going to suggest, but didn't know whether or not to bring it up."

I paused. I had no idea what she was going to suggest but my curiosity was piqued. "Well Jools, tell me what it is. I can't give an opinion if you don't let me know."

She nodded again, "Alright. Now I didn't tell this person any specifics so don't get all worried about another person knowing. But there's this doctor I know. Well she's an old family friend and I went to see her a year or two back when I had some...problems. I was mentioning to her that I had a friend who wanted to become a woman."

I interrupted, "Well wanted is not exactly how I would have put it..."

She held up a hand, "I know, I know. But I didn't want to go into specifics. Anyways I was just inquiring out of interest with her if there was anything she could suggest that would help." She paused to let her words sink in.

I think I got the drift. "Hormones?" I said a little shakily.

She nodded and smiled sympathetically, "Yes. Now I know it's a big thing, but let me lay it out and you can either think about it or never mention it again. Either way, it's totally fine with me."

I swallowed hard to keep my stomach from ascending into my throat, "Alright, I'm listening."

"Well, she said that you, or rather, my friend, could take what is essentially a souped up strength version of what is like a female contraceptive pill. It contains a mixture of oestrogens and progestagens to mimic the female hormonal balance. I asked her what sort of effects they would have if taken for about 4 weeks. Apparently there wouldn't be much effect in that time. Hair would be softer, skin would be too. Perhaps slight change in body fat distribution but nothing too noticeable. With me so far?"

I nodded, "There's more?"

She smiled and nodded, "Well then she said that if 'my friend' wanted to accelerate things somewhat, a starter booster dose could be used. Basically an injection of high dose oestrogen to kick start things. That combined with 4 weeks of the daily pills would have a bit more effect." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Basically after that time with the head start, there would be quite noticeable redistribution of body fat. Narrower waist, fuller hips. And well, the beginnings of some natural breast development." Jools held up a hand, "Now she was quite clear, that either way with starter dose or not, after 4 weeks, none of the changes would be irreversible in any way." She stopped and looked at me.

"Wow," I murmured. Then I thought of something, "Jools. Just by chance, would you happen to have in your possession here the pills and the starter injection?"

From the guilty look on her face I knew the answer before she spoke. "Yes Cara," she confessed, "Look I only thought I'd get them from her just in case. I want you to believe me on that. To be honest, I had almost decided not to mention them at all, but I figured it was only fair to give you the options."

I nodded, "It's alright. I'm not angry." I wasn't, I was just a little overwhelmed. I thought for a few moments as I tried to get my brain around it. It was scary on the one hand. But on the other hand, as Jools had said, nothing would be irreversible.

I started to think out loud, "Jools, if we make a go of this, I mean say we get a deal and things turn out successful. Well as we said before, that sort of means I'm going to be a woman from now on. In that case, it would be the sensible thing to take some hormones then wouldn't it?"

She nodded, "It does seem logical."

I continued, "Alright, and if as you say the changes aren't irreversible after 4 weeks..." My voice trailed and I wrinkled my brow as I tried to take it on board.

I shook my head, "Jools I can't get my head around all of this and it seems scary, but thinking simply about it. If things work out, I probably will need to take hormones. Starting now probably makes sense. If things don't work out, well then I stop and there's no long lasting effects."

I looked over at her and exhaled slowly.

"What are you saying?" she prompted gently.

"I guess I'm saying that I'm pretty well petrified, but on balance, why don't we go for it. I can stop anytime. I mean we have to give this everything or else it's a pathetic waste of time and money and me being scared shouldn't affect that."

She smiled, "Are you sure? Want to sleep on it?"

I shook my head, "No Jools, I don't want to sleep on it. Let's do it. Sleeping on it won't change the reasons for doing it."

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

I half-chuckled, "Well no, I'm not sure, but I'm saying yes let's do it, so go get your hormone gun before I change my mind."

She grinned and said she'd be back in a moment. Within a minute she slipped back into my room with a syringe.

"Do you know what to do with that?" I asked tentatively.

She smiled, "My friend talked me through it and said I couldn't go wrong."

"Famous last words," I muttered.

She told me to roll over onto my stomach and I did so. She lifted the hem of my nightdress and pulled my panties to one side. "Hold still," she murmured. I felt a stinging jab on my right buttock and then an intense pain as she injected the contents of the syringe.

"Ouch," I murmured into the bed.

She vigorously rubbed the injection site and then pulled my nightdress down. I sat up and smiled at her, "I don't feel any different yet."

She laughed, "I don't think it works that quickly."

"Oh wait," I said raising a hand to my brow and frowning. Seeing she was looking at me with concern, I quipped, "It must have worked, I think I've forgotten how to park a car. Darn, I'm a woman."

She sighed, "You!!" and gave me a playful slap. She placed a strip of pills on my bedside table. I noticed that 3/4 of them were red and 1/4 were yellow. "You take one a day, starting with the red ones," she explained. "I'll leave them here; it's totally up to you to take them. I'll not be forcing them into you."

She looked at me thoughtfully, "You know Cara, you really are something else. I'm amazed at how well you are taking this. You're so determined."

I laughed, "Oh, I don't think the half of it has sunk in yet. I'm sure there will be tears at some stage. But we've got to go for it; well I know I have to."

She gave me a tender hug and then a gentle peck on the lips, "Night Cara. Sleep well. Want me to give you a wake up call in the morning?"

"Sure thing. And thanks Jools...for everything."

She grinned and waved closing the door behind her. I slipped under the covers of the bed and lay down. My head was swimming as I thought back over the day. Thankfully I was so tired that I didn't have long to mull over things before I drifted off to sleep.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 4
 
 
I woke of my own accord and discerned the faint beginnings of daylight on the other side of the curtains. I felt quite disoriented at first. Probably due to the long hair half over my face which I soon realised was my own. And due also to the fact that when I rolled over the pulling sensation on the front of my chest reminded me that I had breasts.

I propped my head up on an elbow and got my bearings. I checked the digital clock beside my bed. Just before 8 a.m. This early morning wakening by yourself lark was getting to be a habit. Whether it was a bad one or not I reserved judgement on just yet. As the memories of the previous day flooded my consciousness I realised I was now quite definitely awake. It was a strange sensation. Almost an anticipation of my first full day as a girl.

I sat on the edge of the bed and decided I may as well go on and get ready for the day. I went into the bathroom and lifted the toilet seat. As I pulled up my nightdress, I realised the incongruity of what I was about to do and couldn't bring myself to do it. I set the seat down again and sat down instead. It just felt more appropriate and I figured I had better get into the habit of it. I chuckled to myself as I imagined the looks I would get if I walked into the gents looking like I did now and hitched up my skirts before the urinals.

When done, I slipped off my nightdress. Taking off the silky material filled me with a sensation somewhat akin to regret, but I shrugged figuring that there would be plenty more nights to enjoy the feeling of it.

I managed to unhitch my corset and dropped it to the floor. I added my panties to the pile on the floor. I looked in the mirror and felt quite strange. Almost disappointment. The perfect illusion of femininity was not as perfect now. In a weird kind of way this moment reinforced to me the correctness of my decision last night regarding the hormones. With that thought in mind I walked straight back into my bedroom and pushed out the first pill from the strip beside my bed. I popped it in and swallowed it.

I could hardly believe the path I was now on but I was never one for beating about the bush when doing something. I wasn't quite sure if I was crazy or not, but in my way of thinking, if you're going to be crazy, may as well go all out and be a raving lunatic.

Going back into the bathroom, I turned on the shower and as the water was heating up, I looked about for something to keep my hair from getting wet. I figured it didn't need to be washed as it was only washed and set yesterday. I found a shower cap and managed to bunch my hair up under it.

Slipping under the steaming jets of water was a great feeling. I soaped my body. My smooth body. It was a strange sensation soaping my breasts. I knew they weren't really mine and they obviously had no sensation in them, but under my hands they felt real.

My skin felt more sensitive to the touch. I didn't know if it was the total hairlessness, the hormones, or my imagination. I figured it was probably mostly the latter option. Stepping out of the shower I wrapped the towel around my waist, but as I caught my reflection in the mirror, I chuckled to myself realising that wouldn't do. I pulled the towel up and wrapped it around my upper body and noted the improvement in decency in my reflection.

After towelling off, I noticed a tube of scented body moisturiser beside the bath. I figured I should use it so I rubbed in liberal amounts all over my body. The fragrance was subtle and sort of floral. After using the scented body spray which I also found on the bath side, I removed the shower cap and shook my hair loose. The feeling of my long hair on my bare back was another new but strangely nice sensation.

Picking up my corset and returning to the bedroom I wondered what I should wear. The same as yesterday? Or was there another option? I spotted a neatly folded pile of clothes on a chair at the far side of the room. On further inspection there was a clean pair of panties, a black top, blue denim skirt and black ribbed pantyhose. There was a pair of black boots with a reasonable sized heel under the chair. I guessed these were all for me.

After fitting myself into my gaff and sliding on the panties, I began to tackle the corset. After a bit of effort I managed to hitch it together around my torso. I began to lace myself into it. Although I was tempted to go easy on myself, I figured it would be self-defeating. So I gave it a bit of elbow grease until I felt my waist significantly constricted. I pulled the rib-knit black top over my head and noted that it clung to my figure quite nicely. After pulling on the pantyhose, I stepped into the denim skirt and zipped it up. It was quite short, just below mid-thigh. The boots were quite awkward to get into, but I worked my feet into them and zipped up the sides. They came to mid calf. I quite liked them I decided.

I checked out my appearance in the wardrobe mirror and shook my head. Even without make up, I looked too good. The girls had good fashion sense too as demonstrated by the outfit they had left for me.

I sat down at the dressing table and pondered what to do as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Well, I reckoned I had better give the make-up thing a go. I was going to have to learn sooner or later and I reckoned learning by mistakes would be a part of it. I remembered as best I could what Beth and previously Jools had done to me. There was a full set of cosmetics on the dressing table in front of me. I took a sponge and dabbed on a light coating of foundation, blending it in as well as I could. Then a light coat of powder. After that, things seemed a little harder. I decided that less is best, certainly for this attempt. I brushed a light coat of dusky brown eye shadow onto my lids and applied one coat of mascara. Having managed that without making a total mess of myself, I felt quite proud. I brushed on a smidgeon of rouge and then contemplated the lipsticks in front of me. I selected a shade that looked similar to the one that Beth had used yesterday. A deep reddish-brown. This was where it could all go wrong I figured. Taking a deep breath, I pursed my lips and gave it my best shot. I didn't go overboard and that was probably why I got away with it. I blotted my lips and then inspected my handiwork in the mirror. I smiled. Not too bad I thought to myself. I really did feel quite proud and being honest, I had to admit that I had quite enjoyed doing my makeup myself. I sighed at my appearance. It was definitely Cara Malone looking back at me. I looked hard to see if I could spot Nick Evans, but I didn't think I could make him out.

I grabbed the hairbrush and began the vigorous brushing of my hair that I had been instructed to carry out. I was almost at the hundred when there was a gentle tapping at the door. I cleared my throat and remembering to speak in 'Cara's' voice said, "Come in."

Jools stuck her head round the door. "Oh you're up," she said sounding surprised. "Oh and you're dressed too," she added as she came in.

I smiled at her, "Well, I thought I'd just get on with it."

"And your makeup!" she exclaimed. "Did you do that yourself?" she asked with a little incredulity in her voice.

I grinned, "Sure I did. Is it that bad and obvious?"

"Not at all," she said sounding impressed, "Not at all bad indeed." She stood back and looked me over, "Damn girl, you look good."

I felt myself blush and looked down, but looked back up and said the only thing I could say, but also the thing I felt inside too, "Thanks Jools."

"Well since you're up and dressed and all, ready for breakfast?"

I nodded, "Sure thing," and gave my hair a last few brushes getting it into the shape I wanted. I got up and then almost as an afterthought, grabbed the perfume on the dressing table and gave a few spritzes to each side of my neck. I stood up and noticed Jools grinning at me.

"Like the boots?" she asked with a smile.

I laughed and blushed again, "Yes actually I really do."

She laughed with me, "Come on girl, let's go get some brekkie."
 

*          *          *
 
Beth was already in the kitchen getting things ready. She seemed quite surprised to see us.

"Oh, that was amazingly fast Jools," she said.

"Wasn't it?" Jools replied, "But actually, when I got there, Cara was already dressed and ready, make up and all."

That got Beth's interest, "Really?" she said, wiping her hands on a towel and walking over to me. She nodded and grinned, "Not bad at all girl. You're going to be a quick learner. I think you are a natural."

I half-laughed, half-snorted but murmured, "Thanks."

"What do you think of the outfit? I picked it myself," Beth asked.

I smiled, "I like it thanks."

"Seriously?" she asked raising an eyebrow, "I mean I know why you are doing all this, but do you really like the clothes?"

I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable. I pondered and thought about it. I started hesitantly, "Well, I hadn't really thought about it in too much detail. I know why I am doing this, but I guess I have to admit that there are certain parts that I don't mind too much. Other bits totally freak me out. But yes, I like the outfit." I paused and in a quiet voice added as an afterthought, "I think the clothes make me look nice."

Beth smiled kindly and gave me a little hug, "I think they do too. It's totally OK to like them. Hell girl, you're going through a heck of a lot, I think you've every right to enjoy yourself as much as you can."

I blinked a few times and gave a hesitant smile, "Erm, thanks Beth." I tried to change the subject as I was feeling really quite uncomfortable now, "Did somebody say something about breakfast?"

Beth and Jools both laughed and I joined in with them.

"OK, let's eat," Beth said.

I sat down at the table and she poured me a bowl of what looked like muesli, she poured the same for Jools. She then added some dried fruit on top. I stared at the bowl and then looked at Jools. She had a similar expression to mine. I think it was disdain. I let Jools speak.

"Uhh, Beth, what's this?"

"It's muesli with dried apricots," Beth replied.

"Hmm, not really my usual sort of thing," Jools replied as Beth poured us all a glass of fresh orange juice.

"Well," Beth began a little defensively, "you said that you wanted my help for you and Cara to be as healthy and fit as possible. It starts here. Give it a chance; you never know you might get to like it."

"Hmph, I doubt it," Jools said a little sulkily.

I poured some milk onto mine and tried a spoonful. Pretty dry and tasteless. Harmless though. I grinned at Jools who was trying hers. We both struggled our way through it. I wasn't used to any breakfast as I usually didn't rise 'til mid morning. Jools was more of a croissants and pastries person from what I knew of her.

When we finished, Beth smiled at us and offered us some wholemeal bread toasted. Whilst it wasn't that appetising to either of us, we accepted it given the lack of other options. When I asked Beth about the chances of a cup of coffee she said that we could have some herbal tea. Too much coffee being a bad thing and not a great way to start the day and all that. I saw Jools roll her eyes and I smirked knowing how much she lived on coffee.

After we finished, Beth said, "Now since it's Sunday, I'll give you both the morning off, but the exercise program starts tomorrow without fail."

Jools just groaned, but I asked, "Exercise program?"

She nodded, "Yes, get you fit and toned. We'll alternate between morning jogs and indoor aerobics." She grinned mischievously, "It will help you to work up an appetite for your muesli."

Both Jools and I groaned. I wasn't used to regular exercise at all and had a fair idea it was going to be painful. But I had already had a lot of new experiences so far, this would just be another one to add to my growing collection. After we had cleared up the breakfast dishes, I asked what was on the agenda for the day.

"Well," Jools started, "Beth and I are going to Church. You are welcome to come along if you want, but we'll understand if you don't."

"Church?" I said raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Beth explained, "when we are at home, Mum and Dad like us to go to Church each Sunday. They like the family to be part of the local parish so we go to the Anglican Church in Seaton when we are home."

I thought for a moment, "But your Mum and Dad are away so they won't know either way?"

They both looked at each other and grinned. Jools shrugged, "Yeah, but Mabel would dob us in if we defaulted. Besides, it's sort of become a habit. It's been a while since I've been. I guess it's good for us."

"Like muesli and exercise?" I asked teasingly.

She stuck her tongue out at me before asking, "So what about you?"

I shifted a little awkwardly. I hadn't been to Church for some time. My parents were strict Welsh Methodists and when I was young, Church was very much part of our lives. Since I had moved away, it hadn't seemed that relevant. But to think of going to Church as a woman? It seemed a little hypocritical to me. "Umm, thanks but I think I'd need to get more confidence up first Jools before I could face going to Church as Cara."

She smiled, "No problem, I understand. Will you be OK here without us?"

I laughed, "I think I'll survive. I'll maybe tinkle a few ivories on that rather nice piano I spotted last night. See if I get some inspiration."

The sisters got themselves ready and left dressed very nicely and conservatively in typical Sunday best dresses and I made my way to the music room. That's what I called it in my mind. The view was spectacular. The big bay window looked out over the Devon coast. A cliff reared up just along the coast from Silsbury Manor and I could see gulls circling and landing all the time. The waves down below were crashing onto the sand. It was a dry clear day and the sun was trying hard to penetrate a thin layer of cloud. As I sat down at the stool I just drank in the view for several minutes before coming to my senses again. I began to play. To play anything and everything that came to mind.
 

*          *          *
 
Inspiration was flowing. I had hit upon a catchy melody. I was hamming it up on the piano, but it was made for the guitar. It was on the guitar I was hearing it in my head, but I always found it easier in general to write the full song on the piano first. It was a rocky number and it had ironically arisen from the theme of yesterday's goings on and conversations. 'No Half Measures' I was titling it. I had been humming around a melody as I played and some words were floating around in my head too.
 
 

"Yesterday's hopes are today's shattered dreams,  Tomorrow only brings more,  Are you going to let the world poke fun at your schemes,  And trample them into the floor?

 

It's gonna take no half measures,  Pushing beyond the limit,  No half measures,  Gonna take heart, soul and spirit,  For when you feel it's over and there's no point going on,  Is when you realise what is chaff and what're your treasures,  But if there's half a chance of making it, join me in this song,  Let's kick down the ever-closing doors -- no half measures!"

 
 
I added a few more verses, a melancholic bridge and finished with two rousing choruses, shifting the last one up a key and stretching the limits of my 'new' voice before bringing it to a sultry soft close as I repeated the last line, "So c'mon push open every door -- no half measures!" I stopped and took a breath and then I heard someone clapping from behind me.

I turned sharply thinking that it was a bit early for the girls to be back. Instead I saw a portly lady smiling from the door. I reckoned it was Mabel. She smiled at me and stopped clapping. "You've got the gift m'dear," she stated matter-of-factly in a broad Devon accent.

I smiled shyly, "Erm thanks."

She nodded and walked over. She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. "Mabel Finniston. You must be Miss Cara."

I smiled. It was strange to be addressed so formally, but it seemed appropriate from Mabel. "Yes, nice to meet you Mrs. Finniston."

She chuckled and flapped her hands at me, "Mabel m'dear, Mabel it is."

I stood up a little awkwardly as she approached, not quite knowing whether to reach out to shake her hand or what. She stuck out a friendly hand though and resolved my dilemma. I shook her hand and my hand seemed slim and dainty in her large grasp. She looked me over appraisingly.

"You're quite the looker too Miss Cara. And quite a big girl too I see," she was looking at my breasts. She didn't seem bothered, but I felt extremely embarrassed. I didn't know what to say, but she continued on.

"I hear you're down 'ere to write some songs. Hoping to get a record deal with Miss Julie's 'elp." She looked me up and down and frowned a little, "Although I can't says I approves of the length of your skirt m'dear. A little short don't you think? And for a Sunday?"

I fought the almost irrepressible urge to ask her exactly how long a skirt should be to be appropriate for Sundays. In fact I wasn't sure exactly what to say and looking back wished I'd kept my mouth shut, "Erm well I don't have many...long skirts." I had been about to say I didn't have many skirts but reckoned that would sound a bit fishy. However I fear I just ended up convincing Mabel I was some sort of tart.

"Ah well," she tutted, "I guess if you're going to be the music star, I imagine you'll be wearing even less at times than you are now."

I blushed and smiled, dropping my gaze a little as I didn't know how to respond. She chuckled, "Oh come now child, that pouty smile might work on th'on young lads around 'ere, but it'll cut no ice with me. I've known too much of the like from Miss Julie and Miss Elizabeth over the years. Now you go back to your playing and singing, I like to listen to you and I'll have the Sunday dinner ready before long."

I did as instructed and added the finishing touches to my new song. I was well pleased with it. I didn't have the half-doubts or reticence that I sometimes did when finishing a new song. I knew this one rocked and I was proud of it. I sang it through from start to finish and gave it the full treatment. I heard whispers behind me and turned to see Jools and Beth peering in the door.

"Wow," Beth said. "Who sings that? I've never heard it before."

I laughed and stood up. I sashayed over to them and fluttered my eyelids, "Cara Malone sings that."

They both giggled for a moment. Jools spoke, "You mean to say you wrote that just this morning?" She seemed a little incredulous.

I nodded and buffed my nails, "Yes."

She gave a low whistle, "If you can write songs like that as quickly as that, you'll have more than enough material at the end of your time here."

I smiled wistfully, "It doesn't always come as easily Jools." I shrugged, "I was lucky this morning. I was in the groove or whatever. It doesn't often happen, but when it does....," I paused and grinned, "It's pretty damn good, isn't it?"

Beth laughed and turns to Jools, "She's not only talented, beautiful and sexy, but she's modest too."

Jools winked, "Oh we don't want her being modest and I doubt anyone looking like her is really modest."

I caught a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. I was going to register the almost automatic protest against what they were saying, but as I saw my reflection: my full, feminine figure and my long, shapely legs, my long full-bodied hair and my attractively made up face, well I couldn't deny what they were saying.

What was more disconcerting than the fact of it all was my response to it. As I looked at myself, I felt myself getting aroused. I looked like a sexy woman and I feared I was beginning to like it.

I tried to get my mind back on track by telling them about my encounter with Mabel. I told them about my comment about not having any long skirts and they both laughed. Jools told me that now I had a reputation to live up to and when we went shopping tomorrow for more outfits for me, she knew to get the short tarty stuff for me. I protested, but not too much.

Sunday lunch passed without too much incident. I met Sam Finniston, a wiry silver-haired thin man with a dry sense of humour. Mabel had scolded him for apparently eyeing me up too much. My embarrassed reaction had amused them all no end.

After lunch Jools, Beth and I had taken a long, leisurely walk around their parents' estate. It was large and the cliff walk was breathtaking. We spent the evening all curled up together on a sofa in the family room before a roaring log fire watching a DVD together. Beth advised us to turn in early as she would be giving us an early wake up call for morning exercise. With groans of anticipation, we heeded her advice.

I managed to get myself undressed, my corset loosened and my makeup removed without assistance. I smiled as I slid my silky nightdress on and again revelled in the lovely sensations. As I lay down in bed, I pondered my first full day as a woman. I had mixed feelings. Contradictory feelings. I had to admit to enjoying the way I looked, yet feeling uncomfortable at times too. I had to admit to being excited about the songs that I as Cara was writing and singing. Yet at the moment, down here in Devon, we seemed to be far away from the real world and the thought of having to sing and perform as Cara was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
 

*          *          *
 
True to her word, Beth woke me just before 8 a.m. and with a bright and far too cheery 'Good Morning' threw back my curtains. Not that too much light streamed in as the beginnings of dawn were just beginning to become evident. I groaned as I sat on the edge of the bed rubbing my sleep-filled eyes.

"C'mon sleepyhead it's a fresh clear morning, get dressed and let's go!" she said enthusiastically.

"What will I wear?" I murmured with a yawn.

She set down some items on my bed. "I've got what you need. Take off your corset and slip on this sports bra. I've got a track suit top and jogging pants for you. And some running shoes which should hopefully fit. I'll see you downstairs in 2 minutes." She grinned, "No being a lady and taking half an hour to get ready. Don't bother with make up or anything."

I slipped off my nightdress and corset. I had a bit of difficulty with the bra, but eventually managed to get it on correctly. The jogging pants and track top were a lilac colour and fit me snugly. The shoes were white with pink trim and were a good fit also. I found a scrunchie on my dressing table and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I was a bit worried about how I would look heading out without my corset, make up or without doing something with my hair. I checked myself over in the mirror. It was worryingly reassuring. No make up, hair in a simple ponytail and a tracksuit. Yet I looked for all the world like an attractive woman in sports gear.

Beth, myself and a sleepy and somewhat grumpy Jools headed out of the house into the cold crisp morning. The sun was just beginning to come up and the sky was clear and blue. Beth said we would just go for a light jog this morning. She headed off and Jools and I followed. She led us over one of the meadows towards the coast and then down one of the paths that led to the beach. The tide was half in and we ran along the sandy beach in the near perfect stillness which was only disturbed by the sounds of our breathing and a few cries from circling gulls overhead. As the sun rose further, its faint rays began to glint on the breaking, rippling waves and were also reflected off the cliff face on the other side. Although I felt like my lungs were beginning to burn, it was almost compensated for by the beauty of the situation. I was not in good shape, but thankfully I was not the first one to protest.

"God Beth, can we not turn back, I'm going to pop my clogs if we go any further," Jools complained.

Beth laughed. She was breathing more heavily now than before, but still seemed comfortable. She was obviously far fitter than Jools or me. "Alright," she relented and turned, "but no slacking off on the pace. Push yourself; it's the only way to get fit."

That was all very well, but coming up the path from the beach, both Jools and I could barely maintain a slow jog. It was a relief to be back on the flat meadow and the sight of the house getting ever nearer was the only thing that kept me going. When we arrived back on the doorstep, Beth was stretching and limbering down. "That was exhilarating wasn't it?" she enthused.

If I had any breath left in my body to spare from the seemingly impossible task of keeping my body alive, I might have actually agreed. But Jools and I were both half-collapsed on the doorstep sucking in air greedily as if it was going out of fashion. After what seemed like an age, but was probably only a matter of minutes, my lungs decided to stop trying to break out of my chest. Jools looked a little less unhappy too. We went inside and despite a vain hope of a more substantial breakfast, it was muesli and wholemeal toast with tea again. Though it was amazing how much better it tasted this morning.

I enjoyed revelling in the hot jets of my shower after breakfast and after moisturising, sat down to dry my hair. I blow-dried it as best as I could and attempted to style it the way Beth had done the other day. The outcome was not too displeasing. Not seeing any other options, I dressed in the same outfit as the previous day and began to do my make up. I kept it simple again reckoning that I could manage that. Again, I was happy with the job I did. I slipped on my boots and checked the overall look in the mirror. "Lord, I'm beautiful," I murmured to myself, half-pleased and yet half-unbelieving still that it was really me. I found Beth in the family room downstairs.

"Cara, you look great. See a bit of exercise and you look radiant."

I laughed, "You look pretty good yourself." She did. Beth was petite with perfectly coifed shining auburn hair. She was more feminine, sensual and graceful in her movements and manner than Jools. And whilst both sisters were both physically very attractive, Jools attractiveness I reckoned was probably more in her assertive confidence and the enthusiasm she exuded rather than in her femininity per se.

"Jools says she's going to spend most of the day in the library on the phone, sorting some of her clients out so I thought we'd get to work this morning and then do some shopping after lunch," Beth explained.

"Work?" I said a little unsurely.

She laughed, "Oh yes. You might look like a phenomenally attractive sexy woman, but we need to work on getting you to act, think, speak and move like one all the time. There's more to being a woman than looking pretty you know." She winked.

I smiled, "I guess you're right. OK so what do we have to do then?"

We went to the music room and started with walking. I spent the morning walking up and down with Beth giving hints and tips here and there. She got me to move my hips more. She encouraged me to totally over exaggerate it whilst we were practising so that from now on when I was walking I wouldn't have to think about it. I felt a little silly swinging my hips so much and taking these little narrow steps, but when I looked at my reflection in the wall mirror, I had to admit that it was very sensual to watch.

"But Beth, I mean swinging my hips so much, I mean isn't it a little provocative looking?"

She laughed, "Well Cara dear, yes it is. And to be honest, most women don't walk quite like that, but let's face it, in your chosen profession, sexiness sells."

I didn't know what to say, but felt myself flush a little again. Then she got me to slip off my boots and brought me a pair of high-heeled shoes. A 4 inch heel I think she said. When I first slipped them on, I felt very unsteady and gingerly took some steps. She encouraged me to keep going until I got more confidence. Eventually I felt a little more balanced and steady, but it wasn't long before the shoes actually started to hurt.

She relented and said we'd practise more over the next few weeks. It seemed that Beth planned to spend each morning working with me on my femininity: walking, moving, gestures, speech, mannerisms, fashion, make up and anything else I would need to know. She next got me working on sitting and standing. The first time I sat down on a chair in the lounge, she pointed out my skirt which was riding up my thighs in a very revealing manner. She taught me how to smooth down my skirt when sitting and standing and made me do it again and again and again. When I protested mildly she reminded me that all these mannerisms had to be totally subconscious and natural if I was going to succeed. She was right.

The time had flown and before we knew it, it was lunchtime. After grabbing a quick, small sandwich with Jools, Beth and I headed out shopping whilst Jools went back to her list of phone calls. Before we left, she handed me the black jacket I had worn the other day and a small black purse. I peeped inside and saw some basic cosmetics, tissues and a hairbrush.
 

*          *          *
 
Beth drove us into Plymouth and we parked outside a medium sized shopping mall. I felt quite self-conscious as I got out of the car, but remembered to keep my legs together. Beth must have sensed my reticence.

"Relax Cara," she whispered to me as we walked across the car park, "you look great, trust me all anyone is going to see is a pretty woman."

I grinned and winked back at her, "Two pretty women you mean." I took some satisfaction from the growing blush on her cheeks at my comment. She laughed.

As we walked down the main thoroughfare of the mall, I concentrated on walking the way Beth had taught me that morning, my head held up high and a half smile on my face. It wasn't long before I noticed the looks I was getting from some of the men I passed. I recognised the look: it was appraisal and appreciation. I felt my heart racing inside of me. It felt too weird to have men looking at me and barely concealing the desire in their glances. But what was more surprising was some of the looks that the women gave me. Somewhat disdainful and quite unpleasant. I began to fear that perhaps some of the women could see through me. I mentioned this to Beth and she sniggered.

"Oh it's not that they see through you," she half whispered, "let me explain. Quite a few women have difficulties with an exceptionally attractive woman. Particularly one that is more attractive than they are. That's why they are looking at you like that, they are comparing themselves to you and coming off worse." She shrugged, "It doesn't bother me, don't worry I won't look at you like that."

I gave a little snort, "You definitely won't, you're far prettier than I am Beth."

She put a hand on my arm and inclined her head, "Now come on Cara. Time for a reality pill. Let's cut the crap now. I'm flattered that you think I am pretty, but face it, you are stunningly gorgeous. That is why you are going to be a big success. Oh yes, you are musically gifted and have a wonderful voice. But combine that with how sexy and beautiful you look? It's a winning combination and few have it."

I swallowed and felt uncomfortable. I wrinkled my brow a little, "But Beth, it doesn't seem right. I mean me being...," I forced myself to say it, "me being beautiful, you know with me being really..." I left the rest unsaid knowing she knew what I meant.

She shrugged, "Who cares? The reality in this situation is how you look now. I don't know, perhaps this was always meant to be." She smiled at me, "Just relax and actually enjoy it, I mean the numbers of cute guys who have been checking you out while you've been obsessing -- hell I'm jealous." She winked.

I smiled and sighed, "Alright. I guess you are right."

She nodded, "I know I am. Now what do you want to get first?"

I raised my eyebrows and after a momentary pause said, "Beth, I really have no idea what all I need to get. You're going to have to help me out big time here."

She smiled and gave her hands a little clap together, "Just what I was wanting to hear. OK shall we start with lingerie?"

I winced, "Do we have to?"

She giggled, "Yes come on, let's get the most embarrassing part over and then you can enjoy yourself."

We went into Pretty Woman, a shop I can safely say I had never been in ever before in my life. I was worried that someone was going to hit an alarm button and shout that there was some sort of pervert man in the shop, but of course that didn't happen.

The assistant who served us gave no indication that she thought I was anything other than how l looked. She measured my bra size for me and I did find it a little embarrassing. Apparently I was a 36D. I did feel a little self conscious and almost cursed Jools and Beth for giving me such large breasts but I had to admit to myself that I was becoming quite partial to them. I tried to rationalise it: most guys like large breasts. Yes, but not on themselves, an annoying little voice said inside my head. I ignored it.

We gathered a collection of different styles and colours of bras, stockings, pantyhose, nightdresses and panties. I was extremely glad for Beth's help as I wouldn't have had a clue. But she educated me at every step as to the different choices and reasons for choosing them.

When it came to paying, I realised that I had no money or anything in my purse that I could pay with. Beth caught on to what I was thinking, "Don't worry," she murmured, "We can sort it out later, it's all taken care of for now." She handed over her credit card. I made a mental note that I must make sure I sorted both her and Jools out for the expense they had already gone to.

We then headed to a modern boutique across the mall. I browsed through the racks of clothes with Beth. It was really quite amazing the variety and different styles of clothing that women could choose from. In a sense it was quite simple for men: shirts and slacks. Not much variation really. But this was different, each rack brought a new style, texture, colour, length. Perhaps this was why women found shopping more interesting than men.

I had to admit that I was fascinated to a degree, and somewhat overwhelmed. I was glad Beth was with me as she interjected little hints and tips when I was looking at various items. "Too frumpy." "Too old for you." "Too young for you." "Too tarty" I tried to see if I could spot the patterns that identified these flaws but I wasn't too sure that I could. We did pick out a number of items: tops, blouses and skirts.

As we took them towards the changing room I had a sudden rise of panic. It felt wrong to be heading into the ladies' changing rooms. But as we were about to go in, I saw myself in the long mirror outside and felt reassured by my appearance. Beth came in with me to help me. I tried on everything and it must have taken about 20 minutes at least. Must be why women take longer at shopping I mused to myself. Most of the tops were quite tight fitting and most of the skirts were on the shorter side.

I mentioned this to Beth and she grinned at me, "Well Cara, we aren't dressing you for you to be a nun, or a business executive. The way we figure it you should get used to flattering clothing that will suit your image. Not cheap or hooker-like, but certainly sensual and attractive."

As I checked out the latest outfit on myself I think I could see what she meant. It was a black knit polo neck with a short black and white checked skirt. It was flattering and sensual. I felt myself getting turned on and felt mortified although I was sure Beth wasn't aware of anything. She did smile at me though.

"You like it, don't you?" she asked softly.

I laughed, "Is it that obvious?" Hoping that it wasn't obvious in the way that I was feeling lower down.

She nodded, "You don't have to be ashamed of liking and wanting to look good."

I grinned, "Yes I like it. It feels nice, it looks nice -- what's not to like?"

We left the store with the top and skirt and headed on to the next one. After visiting a few more stores, we were becoming more and more laden down with bags and had collected up about 5 or 6 new outfits including several jackets and coats. I realised that we hadn't bought any pants and remarked on this to Beth.

She giggled, "Well yes, I was wondering when you would notice. It's not that you're never going to wear any pants of course, but Jools and I reckoned you should become completely at ease in skirts and dresses first. I mean you know how to wear pants already."

I nodded and grinned, "Yet again, you have a point. But I haven't bought any dresses?"

"Yet!" Beth added as she wheeled me into another shop. "Now then," she continued, "if the lady wants a new dress, the lady gets a new dress." She giggled and so did I.

We looked through the racks until Beth gave a little squeal.

"Found something?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she said holding up a jersey dress which was mostly black except for a white band around the middle.

I raised an eyebrow, "Why is it white like that in the middle?"

"Come on and try it on and let's see," she said.

We went back to the changing rooms and I tried it on. It was a lycra and wool mix and it clung to my figure. The white band accentuated my narrow waist and contrasted against the black which outlined my breasts above it. It did look very fetching I admitted to myself. I admitted this to Beth also. Needless to say, we bought it.

By this stage, I was getting tired and as comfortable and lovely as my boots were, my feet were getting sore. Beth looked a little tired too. "Are we done?" I asked.

She grinned at me ruefully, "I wish we were, but we still have to do the shoe stores."

I sighed and she continued, "Although we could stop for a quick coffee and sit down?"

I was all for that, so we headed for the food court and I gratefully rested my feet and relished the taste of the bitter coffee. We chatted about this and that -- mainly clothes actually. I didn't know that much about women's clothing yet, but I certainly knew a lot more now than I did before and I was learning all the time.

I noticed a man in a black suit sitting at a table several tables away. He seemed to be looking over at me occasionally and then looking away if I would look up. Beth had her back to him. I leaned forward almost conspiratorially and whispered, "Beth there is a man back there and I think he is checking me out."

She giggled and whispered back, "Really? OK, here's what to do, to see if he is watching you for definite: uncross your legs, stretch and then shift around a little in your seat and then slowly cross your legs again. Watch for his reaction."

"I can't do that," I hissed back at her.

"Course you can, come on, do it!"

I sighed and then sat up straight and stretched catlike, raising my arms up into air and then uncrossed my legs, repositioned myself on my chair and then slowly crossed my legs over again, pulling my skirt down as I had been taught. I sneaked a sideways glance over at the man and saw his eyes fixated on my legs. I almost sniggered and then he caught me looking at him and he smiled at me before looking away embarrassedly. I told Beth about the effect I had on him and she giggled and snuck a glance at him despite my protests.

"Oh he's cute, well dressed, rich," she whispered back animatedly.

I shrugged, "Well I don't know about the cute part, I don't think I can judge that." I wasn't attracted to him, that thought was almost repulsive. But I did feel a certain rush from knowing the effect I had on him.

I looked up and then leaned towards Beth, "Oh my god!" I hissed.

"What is it?"

"He's getting up and coming this way, I think he's coming over, what do I do?" I hissed urgently.

She had no time to reply though as he paused alongside our table. He was looking at me with a sheepish smile on his face. He was wearing a black tailored suit, white shirt with maroon tie. He was tall with short black hair. He coughed and I looked up. I smiled reflexively.

He spoke, "I'm sorry, I think I owe you an apology."

I raised an eyebrow, "An apology?"

He shrugged and looked a little awkward, "Well it's just that you know, well I was staring at you and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I almost couldn't help it, it's just that, well I'm sure you know, but you are very attractive."

I felt my cheeks go warm and I sort of bit my lower lip and blinked a few times with my head slightly lowered. I looked back up at him and smiled again, "Umm, thank you and it's OK, I didn't feel uncomfortable."

He gave me a broad smile and looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just sort of waved and said, "Alright then. Err goodbye," before turning and walking off.

I turned my attention back to Beth who was grinning at me from ear to ear.

"What?" I said defensively.

She slowly shook her head and smiled, "You really have no idea do you?"

I shook my head with a puzzled expression so she continued, "That shy little smile, flutter the eyelids, look down thing that you did? It totally worked like a charm on him."

I protested, "I wasn't doing any shy little thing, I just didn't know what to do." I paused, "I've never, well obviously, I've never had a guy talk to me like that and I don't know how to react."

She laughed, "Well, you're learning fast. That shy innocent response is a killer girl and he was dying to ask you out."

I gasped, "He was not..." but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

She gave me a knowing look and then grabbing the bags, began to stand up, "Come on and let's go get some sexy shoes for you."

We went to a fairly classy shoe store. "Is this place not a bit expensive?" I asked her softly as we entered.

She nodded, "Yes it is, but to be honest, for shoes you really get what you pay for and I've found it's not worth skimping. You get cheap shoes, they feel like cheap shoes and they look like cheap shoes. And you'll not wear them much."

I nodded and added that titbit to the store of information I had been building up all day. We browsed about a bit and Beth pointed out a few pairs of shoes. Some black court shoes with a small heel, a nicer pair with platform heels and then a classy black patent pair of pumps with a 4-inch heel. I sat down and tried them on. The court shoes fit well and were easy to walk in; the platform heels weren't too bad either. I felt a bit unsteady in the high heels and mentioned this to Beth. She told me to look in the mirror at how they made my legs look. I looked and I think I saw what she meant. They made my legs look even longer, the curves more defined, my calves looked more sculpted. I liked it.

"With legs like yours, you are made for high heels," Beth said and rolling her eyes, "my goodness, I could really get an inferiority complex alongside you."

I laughed knowing she was partly teasing me, "I see what you mean Beth. They aren't the most comfortable and I still feel a bit unsteady, but I guess I could get used to them."

She nodded, "We'll practice more and more in higher heels. You look so good in them, I want you to feel perfectly at ease in them."

We were going to pay for them, when a pair of boots caught my eyes. Beth noticed me pausing and followed my gaze. She gave a low whistle, "Sexy."

She was right, they were downright sexy. They were the sort of boots that if I had seen on an attractive woman, I would have had difficulty drawing my eyes away from her legs. They were black suede and looked like they would almost be knee high and they had a high almost stiletto heel on them. "Yes," I murmured, "very sexy."

Beth looked at me, "You want them don't you?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, I was just wondering how they would look on me."

She laughed, "Damn hot I think is the answer to that question."

I hesitated seeing the price tag, "Wow, they're incredibly expensive."

She put a hand on my arm, "Cara dear, compared to what we have spent overall today, it's a drop in the ocean. I think they would look fantastic on you and the way you are practically drooling over them, I know you totally want them."

I grinned at her, "Maybe I'll try them on and see how they fit."

Beth got the attention of an attendant -- a young, male one. He went to see if they had my size and it seemed that we were in luck as he returned with a largish box. I slid the boots up my legs and they felt great as they hugged my calves. I had been right: they did come to just below my knees. I zipped them up and stood up. They were high too. I took a few steps carefully as I got used to them. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and felt a real rush of blood to my head. They looked great and I loved them. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush that was to blame for what came next. I don't know why I did it.

I walked back over to Beth and the male attendant swinging my hips as Beth had taught me to, I read his name from his badge. "Colin," I said smiling sweetly, "what do you think? Do they look alright on me?" I fluttered my eyelids a few times. This time it was totally deliberate. Instantly a red flush crept up from under his collar and he stammered, "Uhh y-yes 'mam. They do look alright."

I gave a little pout and feigned disappointment, "Oh, only alright?"

He looked more flustered, "Umm, w-well, no 'mam, they actually look fantastic on you."

Beth was almost biting her tongue as she sought to contain her mirth. She nudged Colin and half-whispered, "It's OK, you can stop looking at her legs now."

Now I had to try and fight down the giggles. The poor boy looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. We put him out of his misery and told him we would take the boots. He scurried away to bag them and ring them through the till. Beth poked me in the ribs, "You are so bad."

I giggled, "I just can't believe it. A few smiles and bat the eyelids and they go to jelly? Are all men so pliable?"

She smiled and squeezed my arm, "No darling, only when the woman doing the smiling and eyelid batting is like sex-on-legs-with-boots."

I gasped and poked her back, "Now who's bad." We quietened down as Colin had returned with our bag and receipt. He looked sheepish. I smiled sincerely at him and thanked him for his help. His goofy smile in response almost made me burst out laughing as Beth and I made a beeline for the exit together.
 

*          *          *
 
We headed home and dumped over a dozen bags in the hall.

"Been busy I see," Jools commented as she came out of the library.

"Too right we have," I replied, "I don't think I have ever shopped as much as that in my life."

"Enjoy it?" asked Jools curiously.

Before I had a chance to reply, Beth cut in, "Oh yes she did indeed, but I'll tell you about that over some food. We're famished."

And she did. As the three of us ate the casserole and rice that Mabel had left for us, Beth related all the details of the shopping trip. Particularly focussing in on how cute the man at the food court was and emphasising how foxy I was. I sat and smiled with a near permanent blush on my face as I let them jabber away.

Beth was heading out for the evening and I headed into the lounge to relax and watch some TV. Jools had another phone call to make, but she joined me not much later. She sat down and didn't say anything. She looked pensive. I noticed and muted the TV. "What's on your mind Jools?"

She smiled at me and shrugged. I knew from her expression though that she had something to say. "Come on Jools, out with it."

"OK," she said reluctantly. "Well I know I said I wouldn't ask, but I'm not trying to be big brother or anything. But I do need to know. Are you taking the hormone pills?"

"I don't mind you asking so don't get all worried about it. Yes I am taking them," I replied matter-of-factly.

"Right," Jools said as she nodded. After a short pause she went on, "Well, you see, it's sort of like this. My doctor gave them to me sort of on one condition."

I sighed and smiled at her, "OK, come on, lay it on me."

She grinned ruefully, "Well she said she wouldn't normally give out treatment without seeing and examining the patient first, but she said she'd make an exception. However if 'my friend', that is you, decided to take the hormones, she wanted to examine you after the first 4 weeks of treatment and before any more treatment would be offered."

So that was it. I was going to have to see a doctor. I nodded slowly. "Alright, I guess that makes sense. Although I'm not over the moon about having to go and see a doctor about all this. But I guess if it had to be done. So what's your plan?"

Jools smiled, "Who says I have a plan?" When she saw the look on my face she laughed and said, "Alright. Here it is. We go to Sony on the morning of Monday 23rd and if things work out, that is if we get a deal, well I was sort of thinking you'd probably be thinking about continuing on with the hormones. So I have an appointment scheduled for the afternoon with Janice. If things don't work out with Sony and we are dropping this whole idea, well then we can always cancel."

"Janice?" I asked.

"Janice Carson. My doctor, she's an endocrinologist, but you probably gathered that. She's an old family friend and very easygoing."

I nodded, "Well OK, that sounds fine I guess. So if we do go to see her, we need to add her to the list don't we?"

"Yes. But don't worry about it, she's totally trustworthy and anyways as she will become your doctor, she will protect your confidentiality completely."

We chatted some more and watched a bit of TV. Although it was only just after 10 p.m, I felt exhausted. It must have been a combination of the early morning jog and the long afternoon shopping. I gave Jools a peck on the cheek and headed to bed. I took some time to hang my new clothes in my wardrobe and put my new 'delicates' away carefully in a drawer. It was quite an impressive array of clothes and must have cost a fortune. I had to admit that looking at the outfits I had bought, I felt a growing anticipation about wearing them all. When I fell into bed, it didn't take long before I fell asleep.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 5
 
 
Tuesday began much the same way as Monday had: Beth haranguing me to get out of bed to come do some exercise. But as it was raining, she was planning an aerobic session in the music room. She suggested I wear the lilac leotard that we had bought the previous day. I pulled it on, it was tight fitting and felt snug on me. I pulled my hair back into the obligatory ponytail and, with bleary eyes, made my way to the music room. Jools was already there sitting on the floor with her arms hugging her knees and a scowl on her face in between yawns. Beth grinned at us both.

"Come on ladies, when I'm done with you, you'll be bouncing out of bed each morning to get your endorphin fix from a good ol' healthy bout of exercise."

I screwed my face up and muttered, "I doubt it."

Jools swore under her breath conveying clearly her impression of the faint likeliness of this being the outcome.

Beth was not deterred, "Alright, now I know Jools has done some aerobics before, but we'll start slow and simple this morning. Let's just aim to get our muscles all stretched and loosened and then we'll do a few simple routines."

So we copied Beth in the stretching exercises she was demonstrating. I felt my muscles complaining as they were stretched outside their comfort zone. Jools didn't seem to have much bother with this. I guess it was her natural feminine suppleness: something which I was lacking. Beth noticed and came across to help me stretch my calf muscles.

She smiled down at me, "When I'm done with you Cara, you'll be doing the splits without a problem."

I laughed up at her, "I don't want to doubt your obvious talents Beth, but I think I'll just reserve judgement on that one."

Now we were ready to get going. She had us stand behind her and we all faced the mirror. She turned on the CD player. It was some sort of upbeat dance track. The sort of 'music' I usually despised and wouldn't normally listen to. But it served the purpose. She started with simple steps forwards and backwards and then to the sides. Jools and I did our best to copy her but occasionally collided with each other. It took all my powers of concentration to follow her but as time went on, it seemed to come a little more naturally. Soon Beth picked up the pace more and more until I began to feel my heart pounding in my chest. Looking in the mirror I saw Beth looking radiant with a smile on her face and I saw two red faces puffing and panting behind her. Eventually she took pity on us and slowed the pace gradually to a stop. Then she made sure we stretched our muscles again to prevent any cramp.

"That wasn't too bad, sure it wasn't?" Beth asked.

Jools and I looked at each other and grinned. Jools shrugged and grudgingly admitted, "It was OK. Better than running our guts out like yesterday."

Beth laughed, "Well, we'll try and alternate between running and aerobics and we'll have you girls fit in no time."

After breakfast and a luxurious foamy bath, I dressed in one of my new outfits. A simple white blouse and black skirt with matching hose and I slipped into my new high heels we had bought as I remembered Beth wanted me to practise in them.

I found that I was able to apply my makeup in a lot less time, with better results. I guess it is just familiarity and practice. It seemed like a natural thing to do and that thought disconcerted me. I wondered if I would have felt more at ease if I had more problems adjusting to the clothes and makeup and all. I shrugged off these thoughts. It was easier for me to adjust and the quicker the better, I rationalised.

There was no sign of Beth when I got down to the music room. As tempted as I was to sit down and play on the piano, duty got the better of me. Instead I began to practice walking up and down in the heels. I still felt unsteady and unnatural in them. I made myself take smaller steps as Beth had instructed and I made myself swing my hips more. I still had to concentrate and think about what I was doing though. Up and down, back and forwards.

My mind started to drift. It drifted in a direction that I didn't really want it to go in. I began to try to imagine what I was going to say to my Mum and Dad, and Claire my sister. 'Hi Mum, Dad, Claire. Guess what, I've decided to become a girl.' 'Hi Dad, what do you think of my new breasts?' 'Mum, can I borrow your lipstick?' 'Want to borrow a skirt from me Claire?' Although I sort of sniggered inwardly, it really wasn't funny. I felt a certain feeling of dread inside. Well perhaps I wouldn't have to tell them.

Perhaps it would all fall through with Sony and I'd go back to being Nick. I stopped in my tracks and exhaled slowly. Go back to being Nick. I looked in the mirror. I raised my eyebrows and looked at myself. I didn't see much of Nick and the thought of going back to my previous life had surprisingly little appeal. I suppose I began to realise how empty and lifeless things had been over the last year or so. I had become so obsessed with achieving my goals that somewhere down the line I had forgotten to live each moment and enjoy life. I began to walk up and down again, but more slowly. When I thought about it, I had actually enjoyed the last few days. Perhaps it was the sense of companionship which was different to my usual loneliness. Perhaps it was the comfortable surroundings. I looked in the mirror again. Perhaps it was because I strangely felt good about myself at the moment. This was something I hadn't felt for a long time.

My reverie was interrupted by a sleazy wolf-whistle from behind me. I whirled round and saw Beth leaning on the door frame. "Way to walk, foxy girl," she drawled.

I laughed and realised that I hadn't been concentrating on my walking and that I had been walking up and down in these heels without much effort over the last half hour or so. I then realised that my feet were now sore. We did a bit more walking practice as Beth gave me an instruction here and a tip there. Again we practiced standing and sitting. We went over other feminine gestures as she patiently taught me and as I sought to imitate her. She would make me repeat everything again and again until I would do it automatically without thinking.

And so we settled into this pattern for the next few days. Morning workout: aerobics or jogging. After breakfast one day, Beth also introduced me to the sun bed they had in another of the many little rooms in the house. She gave me a little black bikini, which made me blush from head to toe the first time I tried it on. She gave me instructions on using UV skin protector lotion and how much time to spend on each side. And so a few mornings a week, I would head down to the sun bed after breakfast and then shower off afterwards.

The rest of the mornings with Beth were spent practising mannerisms, speech and instruction on fashion and makeup. The afternoons were mine to play and sing. I tried to work on writing more songs and occasionally inspiration flowed, but other times it didn't. I didn't get too wired up about it when it didn't, I used the time to get more familiar with my new voice as I tried singing song after song. The evenings were spent relaxing, chatting or watching TV.
 

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It was Friday tea-time when I realised that something was afoot. As we were getting ready for dinner, Beth and Jools were whispering away to each other.

"Alright girls, what's the big secret?" I asked.

They looked at me sheepishly, both grinning. It was Jools who answered, "Well Cara, I think we all need to get out a bit. We need a bit of distraction, leisure you know. So Beth and I have a great plan which will be great fun and also will be very useful."

I rolled my eyes, "OK, go on."

Beth took over, "Ballroom dancing." I looked at her and raised my eyebrows and she went on, "There are ballroom dancing classes in the Plymouth Civic Centre tonight and we thought it would be great fun to learn, so how about we all go to the beginners class which starts tonight?"

I blinked a few times and felt my throat go dry. "Erm dancing?" I hesitated, "But I can't dance."

Jools shrugged, "I know, so it would be a good opportunity to learn. You're going to need to be able to move and dance a bit more than you can now and yes I know that ballroom dancing is hardly likely to be a major part of your stage presence, but it would be a good foundation I reckon."

I nodded slowly, "OK." Then a thought hit me, "But for ballroom dancing you like need partners. Male partners."

Beth smiled, "I know. But don't worry about it. Some people come with partners, everyone else just pairs off when they get there. It'll be fun and exciting."

I wasn't too sure. The thought of being out in public still was quite terrifying. But I supposed that I would have to overcome that fear. And the thought of dancing, and dancing with some strange man at that? My mind could barely process it. But I knew better to argue with the girls when they both set their minds on something.

And so, after dinner, we went to our rooms to get ready. I showered and changed into my rib-knit black poloneck top and my black and white check skirt. I went for my flat court shoes as I was quite sure it would be hard enough dancing in them let alone in high heels. Beth had advised me to redo my makeup and emphasise it a little more for a nighttime outing. I added more eyeliner and mascara than I had been doing. A little more rouge and a deeper red hue of lipstick. After giving my hair a good brushing and spritzing myself with perfume I checked my appearance in the mirror. I looked pretty darn hot I had to admit to myself and I felt myself get aroused again as I looked at my reflection. I shrugged, blew myself a kiss, grabbed my jacket and headed downstairs.

When we arrived at the civic centre, we followed the signs to the beginners' ballroom dancing classes and found ourselves in a medium sized hall. There were about 30 or 40 people there. I had no idea that ballroom dancing was so popular. There were some couples, but also some people obviously without partners. As I looked around the room, I appraised the other women present. There was a fair mixture of age from our age to late middle age. I took some satisfaction in noting that as far as I was concerned, I didn't think any of them were particularly better looking than I was. I permitted myself a little smile. Then I caught myself on and wondered was I becoming bitchy so soon.

Beth nudged me and murmured, "What are you thinking?" She looked at me suspiciously.

I shrugged and tried to evade the question, "Oh nothing really."

"Come on," she persisted, "I saw you looking around, I saw your little smile. Confess girl!"

I laughed and confessed to her. She grinned back at me, "Oh we have become the little madam already. But honey, you do yourself a disservice. I think it would be more accurate to say that present company included, no-one in this room comes close to you in the looks department."

I felt myself blush again and wasn't sure what to say in reply. Thankfully I was spared the difficulty as a thin wiry man who must have been in his early sixties clapped for attention.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," he said. "My name is Freddy Brunswick and I will be your instructor for this class. You are all most welcome and don't worry, no prior knowledge or experience of ballroom dancing is required or even expected. Let's enjoy ourselves as we learn together."

He had an infectious sort of enthusiasm and he went on to explain what we would be doing. We were going to learn to waltz over the first 2 classes as it was one of the easier dances to pick up. He talked for a little while about the waltz and then, with a lady whom I presumed was his wife, he demonstrated the basic steps to us. Before long though, it was time for us to participate. He asked the couples to take to the floor and everyone else to find a partner if possible and join them on the floor.

I looked around nervously wondering who I could be partnered with. Jools sat for a moment and then muttered, "Stuff this, I'm off to get someone decent." And she headed boldly towards a sandy haired man who looked to be in his mid thirties. I looked over to the far side of the room and gasped. I hissed to Beth, "Look who it is over there."

She followed my gaze and grinned at me, "It's the man from the mall. Your dreamboat." I began to protest but she gave me a dig in the ribs and said, "And if I'm not mistaken he's coming this way."

Before he got over to us, Beth was propositioned by a young man with wavy brown hair and she agreed and they headed for the dance floor. The man from the mall was dressed casually in a navy blue shirt and cream slacks. I was wondering what I would say to him, but just before he got to me, I was tapped on the shoulder and I turned around to find a short, pot-bellied balding man who must have been over 50 leering at me, "Lookin' for a partner luv?" He was staring at my breasts and gave me a lewd wink. I felt mildly nauseous.

Before I could answer though, I felt a hand rest gently on my shoulder and a deep voice said, "Ah there you are darling, sorry I didn't see you at first." I turned to find the man from the mall smiling down at me, I thought I saw a little wink. I smiled at him and played along, "That's OK honey." I turned back to the little man and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, perhaps another time?" He shrugged, sniffed and continued his quest for a partner.

I turned back to my new partner and smiled shyly, "Thanks."

He smiled, "I'm afraid there are some less than desirable sorts who see these classes as an opportunity to prey on unsuspecting women. I hope you don't mind me rescuing you?"

I laughed, "Not at all." Then I grinned mischievously, "That is, assuming you are not one of those less than desirable sorts. Perhaps I've been saved from the frying pan only to fall into the fire."

A little smile curled around the edge of his mouth, "Ah well then perhaps if I am less than desirable, I should refrain from disturbing you further. Let me call your 'friend' back to partner you then."

"No!" I said a little too urgently. "No," I repeated more calmly with a smile, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now."

He laughed and taking my hand led me to the dance floor, "I'm Paul Davis. I don't know if you remember me from the mall the other day, but I just wanted to apologise again for staring at you so."

I smiled and shrugged a little awkwardly, "It's OK. I was flattered actually. I'm Cara Malone." I paused a little, "But I hope you aren't just dancing with me to appease your conscience." I raised an eyebrow.

He laughed, "Well of course. I mean what other reason could there be for wanting to dance with a beautiful woman. Cara, that's a nice name. I take it from your accent, you are not from around here. You are Welsh yes?"

I nodded, "Yes, I'm staying with my friends just outside Plymouth for a few weeks. Do you live here?"

"Yes, born and bred I am afraid."

Freddy asked us all to assume the correct stance. Paul put his left hand on my waist and took my left hand in his right hand. I lifted my right hand to his left shoulder. Freddy was going round making sure everyone had it right before beginning.

I looked up at my partner, "So Paul, what do you do when you are not sitting staring at unsuspecting women in the mall?" I smiled coyly.

He smiled down at me, "Oh trust me, I save my staring for exceptional cases. But when I am not being captivated by beautiful women, I work as a solicitor." He smiled almost apologetically, "In my father's firm actually. Davis, Hartley and Davis."

"A solicitor?" I said, "My father is a solicitor."

"Really? Where?"

I suddenly realised that I didn't want to divulge too many details so I backtracked a little, "Oh he works in Cardiff, but I don't want any more legal-like talk, I hear enough of it from him when I am at home."

He laughed, "And I get enough of it at work, so there's another thing we have in common."

"Another thing?"

He grinned, "We shop in the same mall, go to the same ballroom dancing class and both have our fill of legal talk. I'm amazed we have so much in common."

I laughed at him. I looked up at him, I guess I could see how he could be considered 'cute' as Beth had said the other day. He had short dark hair, a tanned complexion and chiselled facial features. Then I noticed his eyes, they were a startling green colour and had a kindly twinkle in them. I realised he was chuckling at me.

"What?" I almost pouted.

"Now who's staring?" he asked.

I laughed and dropped my gaze, blinking a few times. I looked back up and with red cheeks said, "Sorry. Guess I'm just getting my revenge."

"Well do I meet your standards for a prospective ballroom dancing partner?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well I can safely say you are the most handsome ballroom dancing partner I have ever had," I retorted. I knew I was flirting with him, but I enjoyed it so I didn't care.

"You've never had a ballroom dancing partner before, sure you haven't?" he surmised.

I giggled, "No, never."

He shrugged, "I'll still take it as a compliment."

"Good," I replied, "it was meant as one."

He squeezed my hand and was about to say something when the music started and Freddy shouted for us all to give the waltz a try and not to worry if we messed up. I wasn't sure what exactly to do, but it didn't seem to matter as Paul led me confidently. I just let myself relax and let him guide me where to go. It took a bit of concentration at first and I had to look down at my feet but after 5 or 10 minutes and a few different waltzes, I felt I was getting the hang of it. I didn't have to watch my feet so much and was able to look up at Paul. He was smiling down at me, "You're doing great."

I laughed, "Oh I'm doing very little, I'm just following your lead."

He shrugged, "That's exactly the secret of ballroom dancing." He paused and then added quickly, "Well so I hear." I looked at him curiously and he just winked at me. The waltzes came thick and fast and I really began to enjoy the sensation of whirling around in each other's arms. I noticed Jools and Beth were doing alright. Perhaps not just as free in their motion as I felt, but I attributed that more to my partner's skill rather than my own. I began to suspect that he was not quite a beginner after all.

There was a break halfway through to let us all capture our breath and take a quick rest. Paul, still holding my hand, led me to a seat at the side and we sat down. He was still holding my hand once we sat down but I didn't protest. I saw Jools and Beth take seats at other parts of the hall. I figured out what they were at: giving me some space. The minxes! I became aware of Paul's eyes on me. I turned around and met his gaze. He had a little smile on his face.

"You're staring at me," I accused.

He nodded slowly, "Yes I am."

I laughed and looked away again for a moment, before turning back to him, "You're still staring at me."

He nodded again and a smile grew on his face, "Yes I am."

I shook my head slowly, "You'll give me a complex if you keep that up."

He squeezed my hand, "Oh I doubt that. You know, it's truly wonderful dancing with you Cara." He left the sentence hanging so I asked the expected question.

"OK, go on, why do you say that?"

He laughed, "Because with you in my arms, the eyes of every other man in this room were looking at me with envy."

This time I really felt my cheeks flush and I bit my lower lip. I paused for a moment not really knowing how to respond. I felt my heart beating a mile a minute inside my chest at his words. I wasn't sure how I felt, but I knew that I relished the feeling of being appreciated. I flashed him a warm smile and said softly, "Thank you Paul. You make me feel very special, but you don't need to over exaggerate."

He squeezed my hand again and with a gentle smile said, "I'm not exaggerating."

It was time to dance again and Freddy called us to order. Paul led me back to the dance floor and the remaining time was filled with more up-tempo waltzes. We danced and whirled around the hall and I loved it. I really never thought I would enjoy it, but it was exhilarating. The final waltz got faster and faster until it finished with an orchestral climax and we all stopped and panted for breath. I looked up at Paul and smiled and him. He grinned at me and gave a little bow, "For the pleasure of your company on the dance floor this evening, ma'am, I thank you."

I giggled and gave my best attempt at a little curtsy, "Oh no kind sir, the pleasure was undoubtedly mine."

He took my hand and led me to the side of the room and I collected my jacket. As I slipped it on, I turned to him, "You know Paul, you are awfully good at ballroom dancing for an absolute beginner."

He definitely blushed. "Ah well," he hesitated, "I guess I'm not a total novice. I have done a bit of this before."

I raised an eyebrow, "Really?" I grinned, "So you just come along to the beginner's class to show off to a young lady is that it?"

He laughed, "Oh no, not at all. Let me tell you the truth then. I have done a lot of ballroom dancing and usually come along to the main class each Friday night. But tonight on my way in, I saw this vision of beauty the like of which I have only ever seen once before. I had to follow her and knew she had to be my partner tonight."

I smiled and him and shook my head, "Paul! You'll give me a big head if you go on like that."

He smiled at me strangely and said softly, "I don't think I will you know."

I shrugged and out of curiosity asked, "So when did you see such similar beauty before?"

He grinned and winked at me, "At the mall on Monday afternoon."

I laughed and gave him a playful poke in the ribs, "You!"

He put his hands in his pockets and shifted a little awkwardly before speaking a little hesitantly, "I was well sort of wondering....that is, I don't want to pressure you, but if you were needing a partner for next Tuesday's class...." His voice trailed off.

I smiled, "I'd like that Paul."

He grinned and took my hand and gave it one last little squeeze, "Alright Cara, I'm now counting the hours until Tuesday night." He waved and walked off. I stood there with a bemused little grin on my face when Jools and Beth scooted over to my side.

I knew they were brimming with questions, but they took an arm each and whisked me out and down the stairs. Once we were in the car, Jools driving, me in the passenger seat and Beth in the back, the floodgates opened and I was deluged with questions.

"Who is he?"

"Did you enjoy that?"

"What did he say to you?"

"Was he holding your hand?"

I laughed and held up my hands, "Give me some space, girls."

They paused for breath. "OK," I began, "he is Paul Davis and he is a local solicitor. Yes I enjoyed the dancing. He said lots of things to me and yes he was holding my hand."

Beth tickled me from the back seat, "Oh, how unfair, not only do you get the cutest guy in the place, but probably the richest too."

I laughed and shrugged, "I wasn't trying to attract him."

"Pffft," said Jools, "I saw the way you were making eyes at him as you danced, the little smiles, the hand holding. Girl you had him eating out of your hand. So I suppose he asked you to be his partner next Tuesday too?"

I felt my cheeks flush, "Erm well actually yes."

"And you said?" prompted Beth.

"I said OK"

Jools continued, "So you want to go next Tuesday?"

I replied, "I guess, I mean I just sort of presumed we were going."

She grinned at me, "Well with a hunk like Paul the solicitor, who would blame you for wanting to go."

I protested, "Come on girls, it's not that I'm attracted to him or anything. I mean underneath it all, I'm a...." I couldn't bring myself to say it, I changed tack, "It's just that I enjoyed the dancing, and yes I enjoyed the attention. That's all it was."

The looks I got from both of them were filled with scepticism and disbelief but they let it drop as they told me about their partners.
 

*          *          *
 
Later that night as I got into bed, I felt a few doubts myself. I mean, underneath it all, I was a guy. I was attracted to girls -- I had no doubt about that. But this evening had been very strange. Granted, I had never danced with a guy before. Yet it just seemed right. As I thought about it, I was sure it was just because I was fulfilling the role expected of me: as people looked at me, they saw a woman and by dancing with a man, I was doing what was natural for who I appeared to be. Hence I enjoyed it for what it was. But he was cute. Well yes, objectively speaking, he was an attractive man and charming. But that's all there was to it, I didn't feel anything more than that. I think.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 6
 
 
The next morning was clear and bright and Beth led us on a gruelling run outside down along the beach. Perversely I was beginning to enjoy the early morning exercise sessions and after only a week I already felt fitter than I had ever been in my life. It's amazing the buzz that a good workout can give you. Not quite as good as the buzz from performing live, but better than I would have imagined. Jools also wasn't complaining just as much, but she always gave her token reluctant groan before we set out.

After running about 2 miles, we paused for breath. I felt the winter breeze in my hair and the taste of the salt sea air on my lips. I felt the not unpleasant tightness in my chest as I gasped for air and the mild discomfort in my muscles. I felt alive, really alive. It was seemingly a million miles away from the gloom and doom of London and a part of me felt sad that this was only a temporary respite from the real world. As I hunkered down on the sand, letting it run through my fingers, and watched the waves crashing in not far from us, I felt content. There had been so many changes over the last week when Jools and I had set out from London that it was hard to believe that it had only been a week. It felt like a lifetime ago. I remarked as much to the girls.

Jools squeezed my shoulder softly, "I know what you mean Cara. In many ways, it is a lifetime ago."

I think then, I realised just how shrewd Jools really was. If we were going to succeed with me as Cara, I needed to make the break from Nick as much as possible. There was no real reason that Beth couldn't have taken some time to come up to London to help me out there in becoming Cara. But by taking me away from my previous life and bringing me down here, it was almost like a genesis experience. A new birth. Or was I thinking too much about it. Either way, strangely I reckoned that being down here made all the other changes easier to adjust to. But there was no more time to dwell on it as Beth led the charge back to the house for breakfast.

After breakfast, I met Jools and Beth downstairs. I was dressed in a pink jersey top, my short denim skirt, black hose and my high-heeled black suede boots. I loved those boots already and was feeling a lot more confident walking in them with all the practice I had had with Beth this last week. The girls had decided that we all needed to get out for a bit of relaxation. And with the added goal of helping me become more at ease in public. So we headed into Plymouth town centre to do some shopping.

Beth was wearing a flattering black miniskirt and Jools had on a pair of tight denim jeans over brown boots. Understandably we attracted more than our fair share of admiring glances and I found that it didn't disturb me as much as it had done earlier in the week. In fact, it seemed normal, even enjoyable. Also I didn't have the same fear that someone was going to think I was a man. I knew I was and yet when I looked in the mirror, I could barely convince myself of what I had been. What I had been? I hadn't thought about it like that before, but I guess considering my masculinity in the past tense was another indication of my ongoing adjustment.

We visited most of the main big name high street stores and Jools and Beth bought a few tops and skirts. I wasn't particularly looking for anything, but in Next, Beth called me over. She held up a black velvet top and a pair of burgundy trousers.

"I think you'd look divine in these," she gushed.

"Umm, I don't know Beth. I mean burgundy? Isn't it a bit loud?"

She shrugged, "Sure, but if anyone could get away with it, you could."

"What do you mean?"

From behind me Jools answered, "I think she is implying that even a brown paper sack would look good on you Cara my dear."

I gave them both a poke, but nonetheless headed for the fitting rooms with the two items. I tried them on. The black velvet top had a low neckline on it and was almost off the shoulder. The trousers were quite tight fitting and I thought they made my bum stand out too much. Looking in the mirror I had to admit though that the overall effect was quite fetching. The girls called me out and as I modelled the clothes for them I asked them if they thought the trousers were a bit tight around my bum. They laughed at me and said words to the effect of 'typical girl'. We bought them. And a pair of denim jeans, which also fit me like a glove.

After a light lunch in a nearby café, Beth suggested that we call by her salon to repeat my facial electrolysis. We arrived as one of her staff was just about to close up. She introduced me to her. Sally was essentially the day to day manager of the salon and left Beth fairly free to be as involved or not as she wanted. She was an attractive brunette, tall and slim. After a little small talk, Sally headed home leaving the three of us in the salon.

Beth repeated the electrolysis treatment and it didn't take as long this time. "I think another 2 weeks or so and you'll be free forever Cara," Beth quipped.

I laughed and replied dryly, "Great!"

She got me to touch up my makeup and while we were there, she took the opportunity to show me a few different looks and give me more detailed instruction in blending different colour tones of eye shadow, and using different shades of lipstick to create various looks. I tried to take as much of it in as possible. I knew I shouldn't really enjoy it, but I did. I liked being able to make myself look different, I enjoyed being able to make myself look pretty. I knew it went against all the stereotypes of the day. If I thought of myself as a man, I guess I thought of myself as some kind of sissy. That was why I had to keep thinking of myself as a woman. In which case, all this was natural and to be expected.

Whilst we were out, we decided to make a day of it and got some dinner at a quiet seafood restaurant on the edge of town before heading to the cinema to catch a movie. It was what I would previously have disdainfully called a 'chick-flick", but I enjoyed it and let myself go. At the end of it, all three of us girls were in tears and laughed at each other as we left, trying to prevent our makeup from smudging too much.

When we got home, I thanked them for a great day. I had really enjoyed it. It had been relaxing and fun. I was certainly now more at ease in public as Cara and for most of the day had practically forgotten who I was and just went with the flow.
 

*          *          *
 
Sunday was quiet, relaxing and uneventful. Again I declined the offer of going to Church with the girls which attracted some disappointed tuts and clucks from Mabel when she found out. Monday and Tuesday followed the usual pattern. A good workout in the morning followed by practising all sorts of things with Beth: hairstyling, make-up, walking again, eating, hand gestures, facial mannerisms and even practising getting in and out of cars! In the afternoons I tried to write more songs but really didn't have much success. I wrote parts of a few new songs but discarded them all as I wasn't satisfied with them. They were OK, but that wasn't good enough.

As Tuesday evening approached, I felt a growing sense of anticipation about going dancing again. I tried to tell myself that it was just that I had enjoyed the dancing so much last time, but I had a few internal doubts. I think the girls sensed my nervous excitement. They shared a few knowing glances, but didn't say anything. I was quite disgusted with myself as I spent an inordinate amount of time in my room trying on several outfits before settling on the little black dress Beth had given me on my first day. I stuck with my flat shoes as I didn't feel confident enough to try dancing in high heels. Again I took far longer doing my make-up and hair than I had intended to. Eventually I was happy that I looked OK, well looked great to be honest. I was cutting it fine and I ran downstairs to find Beth patiently waiting and Jools not quite so patient. They grinned and winked at me and gave me nice compliments but didn't voice what I knew they were thinking.

When we arrived in the dance room in the civic centre, I scanned the people already present. It was with a certain sense of disappointment that I noted that Paul was not there. It was still a little early though. However, when Freddy called the class to order and had given us a refresher of what we covered last week and a little more instruction on waltzing, particularly on the faster Viennese waltzes, Paul was still nowhere to be seen. Beth and Jools linked up with their partners from the previous week. Jools gave my arm a little squeeze before she headed onto the dance floor, "Don't worry Cara, just try and enjoy yourself tonight."

I sighed and realised there was a little gathering starting to form up in my vicinity. Three men were closing in on me. One was short, one was fat and the other tall and skinny. I had little desire to have any of them for a partner. They all arrived before me at the same time: "Need a partner sweetie?" "Want to join me on the floor dear?" "Want to partner me love?"

I sighed and was about to pick one when I felt an arm encircle my waist from behind and a deep voice say, "Sorry gents, this lady is with me." Paul!

I turned and my arm sort of automatically went around his waist too, I looked up at him and smiled. Then I blushed and pulled my arm back. He smiled and released me gently. "I err, thought you weren't coming," I tried to sound nonchalant. He was dressed in a charcoal grey business suit.

He shrugged and apologised, "Cara, I'm so sorry. I got held up at work and left as soon as I could and came straight over."

I smiled, "You arrived in the nick of time."

He laughed, "Should I take that as a compliment?"

I flushed a little again, "Well I suppose so."

The music started and we were waltzing again. It took me a few minutes to settle into the routine and pattern again but then when I did, I was able to relax and enjoy the motion as Paul wheeled me around the dance floor. Before long, Freddy moved us all onto faster Viennese waltzes. They were exhilarating as we wheeled and circled at a fast tempo. But they were exhausting too. It wasn't long before Freddy called a break which I think we were all glad to take. Paul led me to the side of the room, again holding my hand. I didn't mind and I was happy for him to keep holding it as we sat down.

"So," he began, "you never told me what you did or why you are gracing humble Plymouth with your presence."

I gave a little laugh, "Well, this always sounds corny, but I'm a singer and musician."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled at me, "Really? So why Plymouth then? I don't think I've seen you on the street corners busking, because I'm sure I would have noticed." He paused, "And thrown lots of money into your hat." He winked.

I chuckled, "No. Well, I'm staying with my friends trying to write some songs."

"What sort of singer or musician are you?" he asked.

I wrinkled my nose a little, "How does one categorise oneself?" I shrugged, "I guess I'd like to think of it as contemporary folk rock. I play piano, a little guitar, and well sing of course."

He grinned, "So should I have heard of Cara Malone? Have I missed you on Top of the Pops?"

I laughed, "No." A pause, "Not yet. But watch this space."

"Really?" he said with interest.

I shrugged and felt a little embarrassed, "Well I don't know. I hope so. I'm trying to see if I can land a recording deal. I've got a meeting in London with a company in a few weeks time."

He looked at me without saying anything for a moment, "I'd sign you up."

I laughed and squeezed his hand, "You haven't even heard me sing or play."

He shrugged and looked into my eyes, "Doesn't matter, if you can sing half as good as you look, anyone would be a fool if they turned you away."

I looked away feeling a funny sensation in my stomach. Excitement? Embarrassment? I wasn't sure. I turned back and looked up at him. "Paul," I protested, "you shouldn't tease me so."

He smiled, "Cara, believe me I'm not teasing, but I'd be happy to reassess my opinion once you sing and play for me."

I was about to reply when Freddy called us back onto the floor. Just as well as I wasn't sure what I was going to say in reply. More Viennese waltzes followed apace, each subsequent waltz being faster in tempo until we were really moving. I noticed that several couples collided but it seemed that Paul always managed to steer us away from any impending collisions. He really was very good I decided.

The end of the class seemed to come too soon and Paul placed a light hand on my shoulder as he guided me off the dance floor. I smiled at him, "Thanks Paul, I really enjoyed the dancing tonight."

He grinned, "Oh the pleasure was undoubtedly almost all mine, so much so that I feel guilty."

I laughed and poked him in the ribs, "Flatterer and charmer! But thanks."

He smiled amusedly at me. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head, "You truly are an exceptional woman Cara Malone. I don't know what it is about you, there is something different about you that I just can't put my finger on."

I felt my heart pound. Did he suspect? What was it? "Erm, what do you mean?" I asked unsurely.

He shrugged, "Well here you are: an extraordinarily beautiful woman and yet unlike other women who might approach your beauty, you seem to have no idea how attractive you are. You don't the high opinions of yourself and great notions about yourself that most attractive women do. It's as if you really don't believe how beautiful you are."

"Paul..." I paused, "I really don't know what to say. I guess I'm not used to such kind attention."

"I find that hard to believe Cara. I'm sure you must have had men flocking around you most of your life."

I shrugged and paused, thinking carefully about how I answered. I decided to stick as close to the truth as I could, "Well not really. I guess you could say I was a late bloomer." Yes, like only last week I thought. "And I've not had much time to think about it really as I've been quite focussed on my goals."

He nodded seeming to accept that, "Then I am indeed all the more privileged. I'll be honest with you Cara, it is rare that I want to dance with a woman more than once or twice. Please don't think I'm some sort of serial womaniser. It's not that at all. It's just that, being honest, most women bore me. They all laugh and simper at everything I say and don't seem to have much to say. But not you."

I grinned and winked, "Sorry Paul, I'll try to hang on your every word more and laugh at each sentence."

He laughed and then became more serious, "See that's it. There seems to be so much more to you. You're intelligent, witty -- I get the feeling there's a lot of hidden depths to you Cara Malone."

I smiled. If only you knew I thought. "Thanks Paul." I paused, "I, I really enjoy your company too."

His face brightened, "Could you bear to dance with me again on Friday evening?"

I smiled then feigned a serious look of consideration, "Well, it'll be tough, but I guess I'll have to try and manage to endure it."

He laughed, then took my hand and gave it a little squeeze, "See you on Friday."

I squeezed his hand back and winked, "You'd better be on time or I might have to take a better offer." He laughed as I waved and walked over to Jools and Beth.
 

*          *          *
 
In the car on the way home, I really got it from the girls. Intense questions about what Paul had said, what I had said, had I enjoyed it and so on. I tried to fob them off as best as I could, but to no avail. When I told them about the things he had said about me at the end they just looked at each other across the front seat and nodded and smiled knowingly. From the front passenger seat, Beth turned round to me in the back and grinned, "Girl, you had better be careful, this guy is falling for you, and falling big time."

I protested, "Nonsense, he barely knows me..."

Jools interrupted, "Nonsense nothing, what's not to like for him? You're gorgeous, and intelligent and witty as he says. He's definitely falling for you and you should be careful."

"Why?" I asked.

She replied, "Well very soon he's going to want to kiss you and what will you do then?"

I felt a hollow churning in my stomach. I suppose she could have been right, but I didn't want to face that right now, "Rubbish Jools, we're just dance partners."

"Rubbish? C'mon Cara, I mean you know how guys think, he'd just love to slip his tongue into that beautiful mouth of yours."

"Jools!" I protested again, feeling more and more disconcerted.

"What?" she said almost innocently, "well are you denying that you wouldn't like him to hold you in his arms and kiss you?"

"Yes of course I'm denying it!"

"Sure," she teased, "well that's not the signals you're sending out to him. I'm not sure I believe you either."

I don't know why, but I just seemed to crack. I have no idea where it came from, but I burst into tears and between my sobs managed to say, "Leave me alone, I'm not like that, I don't feel that way about guys, I mean I'm not, well I'm.....just leave me alone. I don't want to think about it..." I buried my head in my hands and sobbed. I don't whether I was more upset about what Jools had said and the way it made me feel, or about the way I was now reacting. The rest of the drive home took place in silence as I tried to get myself under control.

When we arrived back, I jumped out of the car and went inside the house heading straight for my room. I felt mortified and couldn't face the girls. Safe inside my room, I saw my appearance in the mirror. Mascara tear-stained trails led down my cheeks and I slumped onto the stool before my dressing table and stared at myself.

Why had I had such an outburst like that? Perhaps it was just the build up of overwhelming sensations. Being treated and talked to like a beautiful woman all evening by, on all accounts, an attractive male. Actually enjoying the attention. And then having it all focussed for me by the girls' comments. I think it had all been too much for me and the problem was that I really didn't know how I felt. The last two weeks had been a rollercoaster and as with every rollercoaster, there are highs and lows. I didn't suddenly want to rip off my newfound womanhood and shun it. I just needed to get more accustomed to it and explore how I really felt. I figured it would take time.

My musings were interrupted by a quiet tapping on my door. "Come in," I croaked after a momentary pause.

Jools peeped tentatively around the door. From her face, I could see that she had been crying too. "Can I come in?" she asked softly.

I nodded and she walked over towards me. She knelt down beside me and wrapped her arms around me, "I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt you, I mean it's the last thing I'd want to do. I was stupid..." she choked back a sob, "Sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I was insensitive. Sorry Nick."

I hugged her back, but at her last phrase I held her back a little and looked into her eyes. I shook my head slowly, "It's not Nick, it's Cara."

She shrugged, "I just didn't know how you felt about being..."

I sighed, "Jools, I don't know how I feel about a lot of things, but I'm Cara right now. I know that." I paused, "I like that. I know that. But everything's moving so quick." Now I was the one to choke back a sob, "It's just...overwhelming." I lost it and hugged her close as my body was wracked with sobs. She clung tightly to me and we both sat there for several minutes both of us sobbing.

Eventually we both settled down and sat there holding each others hands. Jools looked up at me, "Want me to stay with you tonight?"

I smiled wanly at her and nodded, "Yes. I just don't want to be alone." We both removed the remains of our make-up. I got into my nightie.

"I need to go get a nightdress," Jools said.

I gave a little grin, "Want to borrow one of mine?"

She laughed and I did too. "Sure, I'd like that."

We got into bed and hugged close. It wasn't sexual or anything. We both just revelled in the closeness and physical comfort. Jools kissed me on the cheek and murmured, "I'm so sorry Cara, you know I really love you."

I hugged her close, "I love you too silly, now stop before you make us burst into tears again!"
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, Beth didn't seem too surprised when she found Jools and I snuggled together. Or at least if she was surprised, she hid it well. "C'mon you two sleepyheads, out of bed with both of you and let's go do some aerobics."

With some groaning and complaining, we dragged ourselves out from under the warm covers. Jools padded off to her room to get changed and I slipped into my leotard and soon joined both of them in the music room for a vigorous workout. We were being treated to a lot more ambitious aerobic routines and to our credit, Jools and I were managing to keep up fairly well.

Truth be told, I was really starting to enjoy the arduous fitness regime that Beth was putting us through. I had more energy, and felt much healthier and I had definitely noticed that my body was becoming more supple and far better toned than it ever had been. I think it was also helped by a sustained period of healthy eating. Looking back, I realised that I had really been neglecting myself: eating rubbish, eating irregularly, sleeping erratically and not exercising. Plus I hadn't paid much attention to my physical appearance. How that had changed!

The next few days followed their usual pattern. Beth was a tough taskmaster and when I remarked to her that I felt I had got the hang of female mannerisms and everything that she was teaching me, she just reminded me that most women had years and years to learn these things and I could at least stick with it for a few weeks.

I guess she was right. At times, I would move in a characteristically male way or say something that was not very feminine without thinking. She continually gave little hints and reminders and gradually, bit by bit I tried to polish off the 'rough male edges' that remained. I was certainly making progress.

It was a very rare occasion when I didn't swing my hips when walking, or forget to smooth my skirt when sitting down. It was beginning to come more naturally and I knew that was the way it had to be. I reckoned it was just that the novelty of this 'training' had worn off and it had now become somewhat routine and tedious. But as Beth reminded me gently, it didn't make the training any less important or necessary. I was now fairly adept and confident at doing my own make-up and I was getting better all the time. With the magazines that Beth and Jools had given me to read, I was starting to understand more about current fashions and clothing trends. Secretly, I actually enjoyed reading the women's magazines, the stories and gossip and all. This wasn't too surprising as I reckoned most men enjoyed a clandestine read at such magazines but just would never admit to it.

It was Friday lunchtime when I broached the subject of money with Jools and Beth. Initially they tried to wave me off and change the subject but I persisted. I knew they were out a substantial sum of money due to me and I was adamant I had to repay them. Eventually they gave in when they realised I was not backing down and they got a calculator and various receipts. Beth had put most of the expenses on her Visa card and although the bill wasn't due just yet, I wanted to make amends. The breast forms had been very expensive, 500 pounds in fact. We had spent a scandalous amount of money on clothes and shoes. It came to just under 2000 pounds. I could hardly believe it, but Jools reminded me that we had basically created a whole new female wardrobe for me from scratch so it seemed a little better in that context. I got my chequebook, well Nick's chequebook to be accurate and wrote Beth a cheque for 3200 pounds. She protested that it was too much. But I explained that if she could give me some cash of my own in return, it would give me a little more flexibility. Jools' curiosity was piqued.

"What do you want the money for?"

I shrugged, "This and that, might want to do a little shopping."

She looked at me suspiciously, "What are you planning?"

"Well I thought I might head into town by myself this afternoon and do a little shopping," I replied.

Beth clapped her hands together in glee, "Oh goody goody, shopping! I'll come too."

I chewed my lower lip and paused before speaking, "Beth, would you mind if I went by myself?"

She looked a little disappointed so I continued, "It's not that I don't want you with me, but it's just that every time I have been out anywhere up to now, I have been with one or both of you. I've never been out by myself, and although I'm pretty terrified at the thought, I'm going to have to get used to it. Is that ok?"

She smiled and nodded, "No you're right, it makes perfect sense. Have a good time. I'll drop you into town and I'll get you some cash from an ATM on the way."
 

*          *          *
 
Beth dropped me off in the town centre. It was an overcast day, but thankfully dry. Under my waist length black coat, I was wearing a white polo neck top, a yellow and red tartan miniskirt, black stockings and my platform heeled black leather boots.

I felt good and having checked my appearance before setting out, I knew I looked good. I couldn't deny to myself that I really liked looking like an attractive woman. In fact, I think that was putting it mildly. Plus I was beginning to revel in the attention that I could seem to attract without any effort at all. Doors would be held open for me, men would smile at me. Of course some of the women would still look at me bitchily, but that was all part of the deal I reckoned. Why I so enjoyed it, I still couldn't quite explain. But I wasn't sure that I had to work that out. Just go with it and take it as it comes.

I browsed around various boutiques and high street big name stores and enjoyed a leisurely look around. I never would have done this or enjoyed it before. I did have some things in mind to get and I spotted something that might fit the bill in an elegant semi-conservative boutique. Up until now all my clothes, whilst in no way slutty or tarty, were on the tight and short side of things. I felt I needed something a little more conservative for the odd occasion. I had found a light grey suit. A short cropped jacket with a matching long narrow pencil skirt. I found my size, a 10, and took it to the fitting room. It fit me well and looked very elegant I thought. It wasn't dowdy or unflattering, but was certainly very decent and still attractive. The white polo neck top looked grand with it, but I went out to find a nice blouse that could go with it too. I found a satiny white blouse that looked like just the ticket and, trying the ensemble, I was most satisfied. My black boots finished the outfit perfectly and so I left the shop nigh on 200 pounds worse off, but happy nonetheless. I had an idea for when I would first need it.

Just as I had left the shop, a dress in the window caught my eye. It was a black satin dress and it was just exquisite. I don't know what came over me, but I found myself going back in to see if I could try it on. I didn't know why. But there I was zipping myself into this sleek just about on the shoulder gown with a long flaring skirt to it that had strategically placed and quite revealing slits. I looked at myself in the mirror and imagined myself dancing in it before I came to my senses. I took the dress off as I realised I really would have little need of it. And that was reinforced when I saw the price tag: it cost just over 400 pounds! I chuckled to myself. I was behaving like a little schoolgirl, but it was fun. Needless to say, I didn't buy it, but it was with some regret that I left it back on the rail.

My next stop was a high street jeweller. I had two goals in mind: I wanted to buy myself some jewellery, but I also wanted to take the opportunity to buy something nice for Jools and Beth as Christmas presents. It was only the 6 December but I wanted to get them something now while I had the opportunity. The shop was quite busy so I stood back and with a little smile on my face waited patiently. It wasn't too long before a middle-aged man in a black suit appeared at my side, "Can I help you 'mam?"

I smiled warmly at him, "Oh I hope so. I want to get something special for two of my girlfriends. What could you suggest?" I have to confess that the slightly helpless appearance that I was conveying was not entirely affected as I really didn't have much of an idea about what to get.

It seemed to do the trick as he smiled at me and led me over to a large display case behind a glass table. He offered me a chair on one side of the table and I sat down whilst he unlocked the display cabinets. "Was 'mam thinking of anything in particular?"

I gave a little frown and said, "Well I suppose I could get a necklace for one of them and perhaps a bracelet for the other."

He nodded, "Any preference of silver or gold 'mam?"

I decided I could get to like being called 'mam. Before, well before I was Cara, I never really got treated to anything like this sort of attentive service in a shop. Not surprising really when I considered how I must have looked. Scrawny, scruffy and not dressed too well.

I told him it would have to be gold and he brought out several trays of gold necklaces and bracelets. With his help and advice I selected a narrow, yet beautiful gold chain for Jools and a chunkier bracelet for Beth. I also treated myself to a silver chain, matching bracelet and long pendant drop earrings. Yet again I left another shop substantially poorer, but pleased with my purchases.

Time was getting on and I decided to head back to Silsbury Manor. Although Beth had told me to phone her when I wanted picked up, I didn't want to bother her, plus I didn't want to hang around much longer as it was getting cold. So I went to the nearby taxi stand and several drivers who had been standing around leaped to assist me. It was quite uncanny the effect I seemed to have just by my appearance alone. I liked it. I got into the first taxi in the line and sat down in the back seat.

"Where to love?" he asked, looking at me in the driver's rear-view mirror.

"Silsbury manor, the coast road between here and Seaton," I replied with a friendly smile.

He nodded and smiled at me, "No problem."

As he drove, I could see him stealing glances at me in the rear-view mirror from time to time and I tried to hide a smile. I was feeling a bit mischievous so I decided to have a little fun. Or rather as I tried to rationalise it, an experiment of the powers of feminine behaviour in action.

Firstly I took a small hairbrush from my purse and began to slowly and languidly brush my hair. Then, taking a little mirror, I touched up my makeup. Lastly, closing my purse, I stretched and slowly uncrossed and crossed my legs. Glancing up at the mirror I could see his eyes were practically fixed on me and looked like they would pop out of his head. I met his gaze and gave him a little smile to let him know that I knew he was watching me.

He averted his eyes and I saw his cheeks colour. Inwardly I was amazed at how easy it seemed to be to elicit such reactions. I knew I really shouldn't have, but I was reasoning that as I wanted to be a performer, a little practice along the way wouldn't do any harm.

Before long we arrived at the gates of Silsbury Manor. Shortly after I had arrived two weeks ago, Jools had given me a remote for the gates which I had kept in my purse. I activated the gates and we drove up the long drive. I got out in front of the house, being especially careful to protect my dignity and stood before the driver's open window.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.

He smiled, "Almost a crime to have to charge you love, but it's 8 pounds 50.

I gave him a ten pound note and smiling sweetly said, "Keep the change."

He beamed at me and, seeming a little flustered, handed me a small business card, "If you ever need a taxi again love, make sure an' call me now. I'll take care of you."

I smiled and thanked him before turning and walking up to the front door. I didn't look back but I was almost sure his eyes were fixed on me. I got in and took my purchases straight to my room and hid the presents for Jools and Beth. I sat down for a moment to rest my feet before going down to dinner.

I had really enjoyed my afternoon. I really enjoyed the attention I got and the way people treated me as a woman. Being honest with myself I was really enjoying being a woman. Back when Jools had suggested the idea three weeks ago -- it seemed like months -- but back then, I had gone along with the idea thinking it would be a means to an end. That is success. And whilst I still had the hunger to pursue this goal, I never thought that I would actually really enjoy the charade of being a woman.

Charade? That didn't seem right. I didn't really think of myself putting on a charade. I was beginning to think of myself as a new person that I had become. A new person that I was beginning to like more and more. The thought crossed my mind again about what I would do if we didn't happen to land a deal. Probably for the first time I admitted to myself that I would seriously consider not going back to being 'Nick' even if things didn't work out. Wow. That was a mind blower and I was quite glad to hear Beth shouting up the stairs to me that dinner was ready.

Over dinner, I recounted my afternoon's activities to them. When they asked what I had bought, I was deliberately evasive and delighted in keeping them in the dark. I had a few surprises for them. I told them about the jewellery I had bought myself to keep them quiet and had to show it to them immediately after dinner. They approved.

I confessed to them about trying on the satin gown and said I felt silly given that I really had no notion of buying it. They didn't agree and reminded me that shopping was not just about things that you were going to buy; it was the experience rather than the purchasing. They both assured me they had spent many a shopping trip trying on things that they had no intention of buying and hinted that what I had done was just another sign of my continuing adjustment to femininity. This suggestion would have probably embarrassed me or made me feel uncomfortable just even a week previously, but now it didn't really bother me, in fact it pleased me.
 

*          *          *
 
Of course, with it being Friday night, it was ballroom dancing night again and so we all went to get ready. I showered and changed into my black jersey dress with the white panel around the waist. I decided to be a little more adventurous and selected my shoes with the platform heels to see how I would manage dancing in them. I wore my new silver chain and bracelet. I wished I could put on my new earrings but Beth had advised me to leave it another week or two to ensure the holes had healed properly.

On the journey in, Jools and Beth were surprisingly subdued and made little mention of the dancing to come and didn't mention Paul at all. I realised they were deliberately avoiding the subject to try not to upset me or offend me. Whilst I didn't think it was really warranted, I was touched nonetheless. When we arrived, I didn't have to worry about looking out for Paul, because he was waiting inside the door of the civic centre and his face lit up when he saw me.

"Cara, you look even lovelier than ever," he said as he offered me his arm before we headed up the stairs.

I slipped my arm inside his, "Thank you Paul. You look very dapper yourself."

He was casually dressed but by no means sloppily so. An open necked pale lemon shirt and a smart pair of black slacks. He was clean shaven and smelled of freshly applied aftershave. I felt my heart quicken a little and was almost annoyed at my body as I felt it was betraying me unfairly so.

Tonight, Freddy informed us, we would move on to learn a new dance: the foxtrot. He explained the steps and then demonstrated them before inviting us all to the floor. I murmured to Paul, "Please tell me you know how to do this."

He chuckled, "Yes, I've done it a few times before. Just remember it's slow-quick-quick"

I had the feeling he was again being modest and I was soon proven right. It took me longer to get the hang of the steps compared to the waltz, but Paul kept me right. I did stand on his toes a few times and apologised but he didn't seem to mind.

As I became more familiar with the steps and was able to relax somewhat, we began to chat. He asked about my love of music and I told him about how I had grown up with music and had spent nearly all of my younger days singing and playing. I stuck to the truth but just replaced Nick with Cara when recounting my experiences.

I asked him about himself and he told me about growing up in Plymouth, going to university. He was an Oxford graduate and I was very impressed. He played it down though and said it meant little in the grand scheme of things. I was still impressed. He told me about his father's firm and trying to live up to his expectations and how his father had always intended for him to take over the firm.

I sympathised and explained a little of my parent's disappointment in my not getting a 'proper job' as they called it. He expressed his disbelief of how my parents could have any disappointment in having such a beautiful daughter. Outwardly I laughed, but inwardly I felt the sudden anxiety of remembering that my parents had no idea that they now even had a second 'daughter'. However, I put it out of my mind and enjoyed the conversation and the dancing.

At the end of the evening, Paul looked a little unhappy. "What's wrong Paul?" I asked.

He sighed, "I'm not going to be here next week for the classes. I've to go to a legal conference in Liverpool for the week and won't be back 'til late next Friday evening."

I was disappointed and although it must have shown in my face, I tried to hide it as best as I could. "Oh well, can't be helped," I tried to say brightly.

He smiled at me, "Give me the choice of a dull conference in Liverpool or the pleasure of your company, I know which I'd prefer."

I squeezed his hand, "Thanks Paul." Then I winked, "Ah well, you never know, maybe I'll find a better replacement next week while you are away."

I was only joking and he knew it, but he looked into my eyes seriously and said, "Promise me you won't find a permanent replacement?"

I looked up at him, "Paul, of course not. I was only joking. I'll get a partner somehow next week, but I promise not to enjoy it."

He laughed and then looked like he wanted to say more, but hesitated. I squeezed his hand again, "What is it?"

He smiled awkwardly, "Well. It's just that, Freddy is going to announce next week that tickets are on sale for the annual ballroom dancing society's dinner dance. It's on Friday 20th in the town hall." His voice trailed off.

I smiled encouragingly at him. "And?" I coaxed.

He gave a little self-conscious cough before continuing, "Well, I've managed to get two tickets out of him and wondered well, if you'd like to come along with me?"

I smiled, "Of course I would. That sounds wonderful."

His face brightened and he shook his head a little, "This is terrible, I'm behaving like an adolescent schoolboy all over again."

I laughed, "Thank you for asking Paul. I'm looking forward to it already."

He grinned like a cat that got the cream and took my arm as he walked me downstairs to the door. "See you Tuesday week," he said. He slowly let go of my arm as if he didn't really want to and I smiled and waved at him.

The car journey home was unnaturally quiet. Halfway home I couldn't bear it any longer. "Alright girls, enough is enough. Stop pussyfooting around me. I'm not going to break down if you say anything. I had a lovely time with Paul tonight, I really enjoyed the dancing. He didn't kiss me, but he did ask me to the annual dinner dance."

That got them going and they ooh'ed and ahh'ed.

"He did?"

"Really?"

"Wow?"

I laughed, "Are you two going?" They shrugged and shook their heads.

Jools replied, "No don't think so. My partner's OK, but I don't think I really want to go. Besides he hasn't asked. Not that that would bother me, if I wanted to go, I'd ask him to take me." I believed her.

Beth shrugged, "Kevin asked me to go, but I really wasn't fussed, so I made some excuse. Oh Cara! What are you going to wear?"

"Umm, I hadn't thought about that."

Jools grinned at Beth, "Leave it to us, we'll sort you out. It's a formal dance did you know that?"

I smiled, "Well I guess I didn't think about it, I don't really know anything more about it except when it is and that I'm going with Paul."

We all laughed and some of the recent tension evaporated.
 

*          *          *
 
Saturday afternoon inspiration returned. I was extremely relieved as it had been a most unfruitful week musically speaking. That morning after aerobics and breakfast, Beth, Jools and I had taken a good long walk across the estate. Mainly because it was a beautiful clear winter's morning, but also for Beth to watch my deportment and walking whilst she walked behind Jools and I. I had relished the biting cold on my cheeks and the beauty of the morning and just enjoyed chatting about this and that with Jools as we walked. I was almost in stitches laughing at her stories of the auditions that some of her clients had been to that week. Jools knew how to tell a funny story.

Anyway, over lunch I had an idea begin to niggle in my head. I excused myself when we were finished eating and went to the music room and grabbed the guitar. This one was coming out on the guitar I felt. I strummed a few fast tempo half-muffled low chords and began to hum to myself. I soon had a verse and then led that into a full power chord chorus. This was an unashamed rocky number. It was loud, brash and it was fun.

The lyrics began to form. I began to crystallise the theme of the song in my mind and got the title: 'Living life in colour'. I guess this was arising out of my recent musings about how full my life had seemed recently in comparison to previous months. The verse was a semi-subdued reflection of previous dull days which exploded into a chorus celebrating the fullness and joy of life. The idea was moving from the black and white days of empty living to the full colour life of seizing the day. Or something like that.

It wasn't musically challenging or demanding. Five chords did it all, but it was the spirit and energy of it that made it a song I was pleased with. So now I had three decent songs. More needed.
 

*          *          *
 
After breakfast on Sunday I hurried back up to my room and got changed into my grey jacket and skirt suit with the white blouse that I had bought the other day. I added just the faintest hint of subtle make-up, brushed my hair and headed back downstairs. I met the girls in the hall and they did a double take as they looked at me.

"Wow, smart," said Jools.

"When did you get that outfit?" asked Beth.

"What are you dressed up for?" asked Jools.

I smiled sweetly, "I bought it on Friday, and as if it wasn't obvious, I'm dressed for Church."

They laughed. "Well, I think you look perfectly virginal," said Jools with a wink. "Are you sure you want to go?"

I nodded, "Oh yes, I think if I don't go this week, Mabel will start to lay hands on me and pray over me at lunch."

We headed out laughing and met Mabel just outside the door which provoked another round of giggles.

"Now what're you girls all gee-heeing about?" She noticed me, "Ah Miss Cara, now don't you just look lovely. Far more suitable and pleasing attire and oi'm delighted to see you heading out for morning worship."

Seaton Parish Church was a traditional old Anglican Church, but the vicar was a young fair-haired man in his early thirties. He welcomed me at the door with a smile and a warm handshake and Beth and Jools introduced me.

The service was in keeping with the building: traditional. It followed the standard liturgy. Although I was brought up to go to Church, this was quite different from the Methodist Church. But I quite enjoyed it. Jools and Beth kept me right on where we were in the Book of Common Prayer as I got lost fairly easily.

The message was on the parable of the talents and the main point was that we should be a good steward of the gifts that God has given us. I felt it was quite appropriate but decided not to tell the Reverend on the way out that I was following his advice by changing from a man into a woman in order to better use my talents.

I did feel a little uncomfortable if I let my mind slip to the fact that I was a man dressed as a woman in Church. It made me feel a little hypocritical, but I put the thoughts from my mind. Especially as thinking in such a way tended to lead to thinking about my parents.

Mabel was in great form at lunch and I think I did my relationship with her no end of good as I recounted the message to her and how I felt I could apply it. Leaving out the bit about changing gender of course.
 

*          *          *
 
The rest of Sunday was quiet and relaxing and the next week began in what had been the usual pattern developed over the past fortnight. Exercise in the mornings and Beth was really starting to push us harder. I actually found myself looking forward to the morning sessions, once I had managed to get myself out of bed that was. Training and practice then with Beth which was becoming almost dull and routine. She said that was good as it meant it was getting into my subconscious.

Interestingly, one morning that week she got me to put on my training shoes, obviously no heels, and told me to walk like a man. I walked normally without thinking and turned to face her. With a large smile on her face she informed me that I had walked almost as femininely as I had been doing before, swinging my hips a little too. I actually had to concentrate hard to make myself walk with a male gait. I guessed her training was paying off.

I was now very much au fait with current fashions, hairstyles and cosmetics. I could easily style my hair into a number of simple different looks and was very competent making myself up for any number of different occasions. My mannerisms and vocal inflections were now almost always exclusively feminine. Beth would have me sit and stand, walk and talk, gesture and posture -- all in front of the mirrored wall in the music room. She made me watch myself and I had to confess that all I saw was an attractive feminine woman. I was pleased. I think she knew it, but I didn't admit it openly.

In the afternoons, I spent my time as usual either on the piano or the guitar. When inspiration was lacking, I hooked up all my equipment and with my keyboard, sequencer and four-track I laid down some tracks for the three songs I had completed so far.

That week produced another song: an almost classical piano introduction leading into a sweetly subdued melodic verse. It had almost a swing sort of jazz feel to it and I had written it in 6:8 time. I knew that guitarists, drummers and basically any non-classically trained musicians would grumble about that. In my head I could hear a brass ensemble coming in during the chorus. A real swinging big band feel. It was quite different to the other songs I had written, but I always strove to make my compositions cover a wide variety of styles. I didn't believe in repeating one formula over and over again.

I couldn't seem to get away from autobiographical type lyrics though. I guess I was experiencing so many new feelings and sensations that it was only natural for it to overflow into song. It was more real than a lot of stuff I had written in the past. I guess 'Nick's' life had got into such a rut that at that time I was always looking outside myself to the world around for lyrical inspiration. Not necessarily a bad thing, but these songs that I was now writing were coming from the heart. I entitled the song, 'I just wanna be me'. It was almost a tongue-in-cheek song, it was fun, ironic and not one for taking oneself seriously in. I enjoyed it. I laid down some backing tracks and then I took the microphone: this was one I had to sing with microphone in hand and the freedom of movement that it gave me. I faced the mirror and began.
 
 

"Feelin' the weight of others' expectations,  Pushing me down, pressing around me,  Building into disappointments, anger and frustrations,  Why oh why can't they understand and see.

 

I don't wanna be somebody elses' puppet,  Don't wanna have to say yes and always agree,  You're squeezing me, smothering me -- why don't you just stop it  Cos I just wanna be me.  I'm dreamin' my own dreams, not fulfilling yours,  I'm throwing off the bonds, I'm gonna be free,  I'm releasing my true spirit, a spirit that endures  Cos I just wanna be me."

 
 
I vamped it up and ended with this real pouty look on my face. I could only hold it for a moment though before I cracked, grinned and actually giggled. This was so different to anything I had written before but I loved it. Four songs and counting.
 

*          *          *
 
I have to admit that I didn't enjoy the dancing as much that week. I missed Paul. For a number or reasons that I rationalised: he was a great dancer and made it seem so easy, we got on well together and I had already sort of got to know him.

Instead of waiting to get the dregs of the class, on both occasions I was proactive. As soon as Freddy called us to the floor, each time I went and asked fairly normal looking guys if they wanted to partner me. They looked a bit surprised to be asked but didn't turn me down. The dancing was OK, neither of my 'stand-in' partners were anywhere near as good as Paul. At dancing I mean. There was a fair bit of stepping on toes and apologising on both sides.

Freddy made us revise the Foxtrot and at the end of Tuesday's class and for most of Friday's class we learnt the Quickstep. 'Slow-quick-quick' I would say into myself over and over again as I had to concentrate a lot harder than previous times. At the end of each evening I civilly thanked my dance partner and made my excuses as soon as possible.

I looked forward to the following Tuesday's class when Paul would be back. And next Friday. The dinner dance. When I pushed the girls for some help with regard to a suitable dress, they just laughed, winked and told me they had it in hand and not to worry. I worried more.
 

*          *          *
 
I had been putting it off, but that weekend I decided I needed to touch base at home. I took my mobile phone and went to my room. I sat on the bed and practised my voice for quite some time before phoning. Not Cara's voice. That was coming all too naturally by now. I found it hard to find 'Nick's' voice. I got a passable attempt and dialled the number. I thought I was going to throw up. Even though it was just a phone call I felt sure I would give myself away.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mum."

"Claire?"

"No, it's me....Nick." That felt strange.

"Nicholas honey! How are you? What's wrong with your voice? Are you sick?"

"Erm, maybe my throat feels a little funny I guess but I'm OK. How are you and Dad?"

"Oh we're grand, you're father is as busy as ever. So much for winding down towards retirement. So what you are you up to?"

"Oh you know, trying to write some more songs."

A pause. "Well, how's it going?" She tried to sound encouraging.

"Pretty good actually, I think I'm getting some good material."

"That's good dear." My mother was used to my cycles of writing, hope, demo submission and rejection. She was used to me thinking that next time would be different. But she hid her reticence as well as she could.

"So Nicholas, I presume you'll be here for Christmas."

I swallowed, "Erm yes, I think so. Unless I get a better offer."

She laughed, "Well I'll take that as a yes then. When should we expect you?"

I felt a cold sweat on my forehead, "Well, I guess I'll travel up to Claire's on the 23rd late on and stay over with her and then we'll both head up to you on Christmas Eve."

"That's great honey. It's just over a week away. It's been too long," she chided.

"I know Mum, I'm sorry. I'm just sort of focussed and preoccupied right now." If only she knew!

"Are you sure you are alright dear, you really do sound quite strange?"

"I'm fine Mum, listen I'd better head on. Love you."

"I love you too son, take care and God bless."

"Bye."

I broke the connection and set the phone down on my bed and then lay back myself. I was almost shaking. I had no idea how I was going to face my family or what I was going to say to them. I had a bad feeling about it.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 7
 
 
I kept Mabel happy again on Sunday by once again going to Church with the girls. Although it was strange, it was sort of comforting to go to Church after such a long time away from it in recent years. I felt quite at home at Silsbury Manor and when Monday came it was with a certain sadness that I realised I was beginning my last week of my stay. It was the 16th December. Actually when I thought about it, I really became quite emotional and over breakfast I was quite teary. I got lots of hugs and sympathy from the girls, well mainly Beth. It wasn't quite Jools' sort of thing.

"Why am I getting on like this? I feel mortified sitting blubbing like this, I don't understand it," I said trying to make light of it.

Jools looked at Beth knowingly and then looked at me. She said softly, "Cara dear, hormones."

I looked at her and realisation hit me. "Oh you mean...that this is because of...is this normal?" I wrinkled my brow.

They both laughed and Jools replied, "Yes dear, it's perfectly understandable. You're now onto your 4th week of hormones and this week's pills are mainly progestagens. You are suffering a relative deficit of oestrogen this week compared to previous weeks."

"Why are they made like that?" I puzzled.

Jools smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Well, it is a 4 week cycle..." She let her voice trail off.

"Oh," was all I said.

Beth and Jools smirked.

"Erm," I began hesitantly, "please tell me that I don't have PMS?"

They laughed. I couldn't help but join in too.

Beth and I maintained our usual routine in the mornings and she herself began to admit that she didn't really see much point in continuing as she felt I had learnt practically all she needed to teach me. However paradoxically it was me this week who wanted to keep going. Perhaps it was the fear of going back to the real world after this week that drove me on. I just wanted to make sure I didn't do anything to give myself away.
 

*          *          *
 
When Tuesday evening approached, I couldn't hide my anticipation about going dancing again and the girls sensed it and gently teased me about it. I didn't care. I was looking forward to it. I wore a black velvet top, a red skirt that came to just above the knee and black stockings. Also tonight I decided to give my high heels a go and see how I managed dancing in them. I took an inordinately long time doing my hair and makeup but thankfully I had started early so I don't think Jools and Beth realised. At last, satisfied with my appearance, I headed downstairs and we headed into Plymouth.

Paul was again waiting just inside the door and I was quite surprised at how pleased I was to see him. He seemed quite pleased to see me too. He gave me his arm and we walked up the stairs.

"How was the conference?" I asked.

He groaned, "Oh it was stultifyingly boring. But then it usually is." He grinned at me and winked, "I couldn't stop thinking about you Cara."

I squeezed his arm, "Oh you. Stop being such a tease."

He smiled and said softly, "Well, I did think about you a lot. And if I may say so, you look absolutely beautiful this evening. Did you miss me last week?"

I laughed, "Oh I think I can safely say that I did. My stand-in partners did not match up to your suave brilliance on the dance floor."

He grinned, "So that's all you missed: my dancing?" He raised an eyebrow.

I felt myself colour a little, "Alright well they weren't quite as charming or as devastatingly handsome as you." I gave a little wink to try and make the comment as light-hearted as possible. He smiled at me and this time it was his turn to flush.

Freddy started us off with a revision of the Quickstep. Although when I say revision, this week's quickstep bore little resemblance to last week's. Paul guided me expertly and it was a joy to relax in his arms and be led around the floor. I didn't have to concentrate as much and could just enjoy the experience.

Towards the end of the night as this was the last official beginner's class of this session, Freddy gave us a selection of different dances in succession: Waltz, Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot and Quickstep. He complimented us all on how much we had learned and gave us a last reminder about the dinner dance on Friday. We applauded him and all thanked him for his time and patient instruction.

At the end, Paul guided me off the dance floor, his arm around my shoulders. It felt nice, I felt secure. It was strange. I was about to get ready to go and find Jools and Beth when he took me by the hand.

"Cara, why don't we go and grab a coffee somewhere?"

I swallowed and felt my heart lurch into my mouth, "Erm, well I don't have any transport, I was going to get home with my friends."

He shrugged, "I'll leave you back, it's no problem."

I was in a quandary and didn't know what to do or say. Why wouldn't I go? What did I want to do? It was only coffee after all. But it seemed like crossing an imperceptible line. A guy essentially asking me out. When I thought about it, I was going to the dinner dance with him on Friday so what was the big deal. I shrugged.

"OK sure, that would be lovely Paul. Just let me tell Jools and Beth."

I strolled over to them and told them my plans. They smiled at me.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Beth asked.

I laughed, "Yes I'll be fine. I'll see you both later."

When we got outside, Paul put his arm around my shoulders again and it seemed only natural to slip my arm around his waist. We walked around the corner and down the street to a warm cosy looking coffee shop called 'CafሠRosso'. Inside there was a coal fire burning in the grate and there was a comfy sofa nearby which Paul guided me to. I took off my coat and sat down. It was lovely to warm up in comfort, as it was a fairly chilly night outside.

Paul sat down beside me and casually slipped his arm around my shoulders again. I looked over at him and smiled. I think I must have looked a little nervous or something, because he shifted in his seat and softly said, "I'm sorry, do you want me to take my arm away?"

I didn't really. It felt nice. I shook my head, "No Paul, please don't." I settled down into the sofa and actually shifted over a bit towards him. He pulled me close 'til our bodies were touching. I felt sure he would be able to feel my heartbeat, which was currently racing. I wasn't exactly sure what was happening. I remembered the girls' warnings about Paul falling for me. But what could I do? I liked him. Was it more than that? I didn't know. I didn't think so. Yes I liked the attention, I mean I really liked it. But was there anything more to it?

A waitress came over and took our order: a latte for me and an espresso for Paul. Just as she was leaving she said, "My, don't you two lovebirds look so comfortable snuggled there together."

I was sure my cheeks must have been crimson. I looked up at Paul and forced a little laugh, "Lovebirds." I tried to pass it off.

He looked down at me and smiled, "Cara, I wish."

I sighed and bit my lower lip. He gently placed a hand on my right leg. Not threateningly in any way. "Cara," he began, "you really are an incredible woman. Over the last few weeks as I've got to know you, I just can't get you out of my mind. There really is something special about you. I can't put my finger on it. I mean obviously you are extremely physically attractive, but you have a certain aura about you which is hard to define."

I felt very uncomfortable now. I rested my hand on top of his. "Paul," I began hesitantly, "I am very flattered by what you say. Truly I am." I paused. What could I say? "I've really enjoyed getting to know you too. You are very dear to me, and as attractive as I find you, our paths are going to go separate ways."

He sighed, "I know. Do you have to leave?"

I nodded, "Yes, I do. My time down here has been so special and I will never forget it. But life goes on and there are things I have to do."

He nodded, "I figured as much." He looked at me almost wistfully, "If things had been different, do you think you and I could have made something of it?"

I smiled, "If things had been different yes I am sure we could." Yes, if I was really a girl and yes if I was sexually attracted to men. Which I'm not. I was fairly sure of that. Or at least I told myself that.

We drank our coffee and chatted and laughed together and after about an hour, we walked arm in arm back to Paul's car.

"You drive a porsche?" I said lightly running my hand over the silver metal.

He shrugged semi-apologetically.

I grinned and winked, "Paul, heck why didn't you say so earlier? This could have changed everything, I'd have given up all my plans and agreed to stay."

He laughed as we got in and drove off, "Ah you see, you're just like all the rest, in love with my car and not with me."

When we arrived at Silsbury Manor and pulled up outside the house, he got out of the car and walked me up to the door. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. There seemed to be some sadness there.

"I can't wait until Friday Cara, let's have a great night together."

"Yes, that sounds wonderful," I replied.

Then he slowly leaned forward and gently gave me a light kiss on the lips, "Goodnight Miss Malone, I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. on Friday." He turned and walked back down to his car. I went inside and closed the door. I wasn't sure how I felt. Inside I was a mixture of whirling emotions. I didn't think I could face the inquest from the girls so I just headed up to my room and got ready for bed.

As I lay there in the dark, my mind was reeling as I replayed the evening's events over and over again. I really did feel a lot for Paul. I had grown to like him a lot and looked forward to the times I spent in his company. Was this what being attracted to a man was like? I didn't think so. I still felt that it was women that I was attracted to. Not that that was going to be helpful given my current appearance. I put my mixed feelings down to the hormones that were undoubtedly ravaging my body and also due to the changes I had been going through over the last four weeks.
 

*          *          *
 
All through my 'training' session with Beth on Wednesday morning, I was itching to get to the piano. I felt a song inside me and wanted to get it out. After lunch, I sat down at the piano and began to play.

It was very much a slow ballad. The lyrical idea was in my head and I knew where it had come from. I felt a little uncomfortable about that, but when the song is coming, just let it out and see what happens. I could hear the song in my head, slow quiet piano verse with light drums and bass joining in the chorus with a slightly distorted solo lead guitar line. I sketched out the words that were in my mind.

When I had finished I just sat there for a moment. It was a moving song. Yet I felt almost uncomfortable having written it. But it was good, or at least I thought so. I entitled it 'Not dancing, but flying'. I played it through:
 
 

"Touch my shoulder and take my hand,  And lead me out to dance,  As you take me in your arms,  It's like I fall into a trance:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying.

 

Never felt this way before,  Never knew it would be like this,  To feel like I'm opening a door,  To feel like it's my first kiss:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying."

 
 
And then I moved into the bridge, in which I upped the tempo, and the vocal moved up in pitch and intensity. I could imagine the drums picking up, and the guitar squealing melancholically:
 
 

"But why is that life can snatch away,  A joy almost before it's born,  For when the night is done and tomorrow comes,  One of us will be gone:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying,

 

And whenever I will think or dream of you,  We're not dancing, but flying."

 
 
I stopped and drew breath. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster this one. But it had to come out. And yes, for artistic licence purposes, I felt I had over interpreted the reality. Or had I? It was cathartic to write it and sing it. But it was very strange, because essentially I had just written my first love song about a man.

It was a love song granted, but did the song really mirror the truth. I didn't really think so. It was born out of an intensity of new emotions and new circumstances. Though I didn't feel that denigrated the song's worth. I left the music room, grabbed my coat and went to get a breath of fresh air outside. Five songs.
 

*          *          *
 
Over breakfast on Thursday I tackled the girls about what was happening regarding a dress for me for Friday night's dance. They tried to stall me again but I was having none of it this time.

"I'm not dropping the subject until you tell me what the plan is. Otherwise, I'm going right into town this instant and sorting myself out with something." I sort of stamped my foot and put my hands on my hips indignantly.

They both sniggered but eventually relented. "Alright," said Jools reluctantly, "shall we show her Beth?"

Beth nodded, "I think so. She's a stubborn one this girl."

Jools took me by the hand and led me upstairs. Just outside her room, she made me close my eyes; she led me in and then told me to open them. I gasped and my hand flung to my mouth. For there, hanging on Jools' closet door was the black dress I had tried on in town.

"I don't believe it!" I exclaimed. "But how is this here? What? I don't understand."

Beth giggled and took my hand, "Cara dear, consider this a Christmas present from Jools and I. I think you will enjoy it."

I don't know why, but for the second time that week I cried. I felt the tears welling up and I tried to stem the flow. I was fairly disgusted with myself, but I was glad I hadn't put my makeup on yet. I bit my lower lip and tried to get control before speaking.

"But you shouldn't have, I mean I know how horrendously expensive this is."

Jools waved a hand, "Rubbish, it's only what you deserve. You've been through so much the past few weeks, you totally deserve it. And we both wanted to get it for you."

"How did you know my size?" I wondered.

Beth grinned guiltily, "Well after you told us about seeing the dress, we got this idea and the next morning Jools nipped into town and the shop assistant remembered this black haired beauty who had tried the dress on. Not many people have tried it on, so she remembered which size she gave you."

I smiled and gave them both a big hug and kiss on the cheek. "I love you both," I said and tried not to cry again. We had a big group hug. But eventually Jools broke the hug.

"Enough!" she said, "I have to see how this dress looks on you."

I feigned a shrug, "Oh I don't know, maybe I'll try it on later." But by the looks they gave me, I knew they didn't buy it for an instant. I laughed, "Oh alright, I'm dying to try it on again too."

It fit me absolutely perfectly, just like it had in the shop. I revelled in the sensation of the satin skirt whirling around me as I moved. I realised that I would have to be quite careful when I sat down as the slits could reveal a lot more leg than a lady should. I applied my makeup and brushed out my hair. I had made Jools and Beth wait outside my room until I was ready to show them. I heard Jools complaining outside the door. "C'mon Cara, stop being such a woman -- you're taking ages in there."

At last, I was happy with my appearance. I was wearing black sheer silk stockings and my 4-inch high heels. I had managed to dance fairly well in them the other night so I figured they were the only shoes for this outfit. I opened the door and struck a pose. In an affected low sultry voice I said with a coquettish smile, "Worth waiting for ladies?"

I saw their eyes widen. Jools slowly shook her head and Beth gave a low whistle. Beth protested, "It really isn't fair. No-one should be allowed to be that beautiful and sexy. I'm jealous."

"Me too," murmured Jools, but I could see a look in her eyes. It looked like pride. "You look absolutely ravishing Cara. I'm so happy for you."

I smiled, "Thank you."

Beth looked at me seriously, "How does it feel to be... I mean for you to realise that you not only look like a woman, but a totally stunning woman at that."

I paused. I felt a little uncomfortable at her questioning. Jools noticed and tried to butt in, "C'mon Beth, don't put her on the spot like that."

I raised a hand. "No it's OK Jools. How does it feel?" I mused. After a moment I gave a little smile, "It feels good. It feels really good."

Beth smiled and squeezed my arm, "You really mean that? I mean I see you looking fabulous, in every way a lovely woman, and I just worry about how you really are inside."

Beth truly was a lovely caring person. She was different to her sister. Jools was fantastic: driven, ambitious, fun, compassionate yes, but Beth had a real tender heart.

I squeezed Beth's arm in return, "Don't worry." I paused, "I'm not pretending it's a walk in the park. I'm not saying it's easy and I know there are potentially very difficult times ahead." I swallowed, "But these past few weeks have been some of the happiest weeks of my life. Maybe that's just the wonderful company and friendship I've enjoyed. But I think I have to admit that I like who I've become and there's something intoxicating about being attractive and desirable." I tried to make a joke and lighten the mood, "I mean for the first time in my life, I am actually almost sexy."

Jools laughed and snorted, "Almost sexy? Darling, I hate to tell you but looking at you right now, you are the complete personification of sexy."

We all laughed. It was with some regret that I hung my lovely dress up in my closet and got changed.
 

*          *          *
 
I spent Thursday afternoon and Friday morning polishing up the last two songs I had written and laying down some backing tracks. For 'Not dancing, but flying' I laid down some nice strings tracks. It sounded good.

It wasn't easy to sing. Not that it was particularly vocally challenging. Not at all. My female vocal had got stronger and stronger over the past few weeks and it now seemed like second nature. Rather it was the words that were hard to sing. But I knew it was good.

It was another expression of the me that I had become. That I was becoming. Beth had had to go into her salon on Friday morning to sort some things out. This gave me time to work on the songs in the morning. I wanted to start getting ready early on Friday afternoon for the dance and Beth had promised to help me.

I spent an obscene length of time in a warm scented bubbly bath and then washed and conditioned my hair. I was sitting in my robe combing my wet hair when Beth knocked on the door and came in. She proceeded to take over and helped me blow dry my hair. She added hairspray here, there and everywhere. She said she wanted to give my hair real body tonight. When it was dry, she began to sweep it up on top of my head and added pins at strategic places. Next she tied pieces of rag into my hair at the sides winding my hair around them and then sprayed with hair spray again. I was a bit puzzled, but she assured me she knew what she was doing. I believed her.

She had brought a portable electrolysis kit home from the salon and proceeded to give my face another treatment. It really didn't take too long as there was hardly any remaining hair. She felt that I wouldn't need any more treatments from now on. She also persuaded me into letting her wax my legs again to ensure I was perfectly smooth. It was extremely painful yet again. I had not had any significant growth of body hair anywhere else since the first waxing.

She took an inordinate amount of time over my makeup. The foundation was expertly blended in. She went for a more dramatic look with my eye makeup. I thought she was going overboard with the dark black eyeliner, but I kept my peace. The eye shadow was more defined than ever before. I also thought my eyelashes were going to break with the amount of mascara she was adding. But the result was perfectly teased out prominent black lashes. She carefully highlighted my cheek bones with rouge and then began to work on my lips. She added lip liner first and then applied ruby red lipstick with a brush. She painted my lips expertly and then, after getting me to blot them, added a coat of lip gloss. She painted my fingernails in the same bright shade of red.

As I looked at my face, I had to admit that she did indeed know what she doing. The effect was quite striking. Although I was wearing a lot of makeup, for an evening dance she assured me it was perfect. It certainly looked it.

Beth managed to squeeze another inch or two off my waist by viciously tightening my corset for me. Although I wanted to complain, I didn't really mind. Paradoxical I know. She removed the tied in rags from my hair and I realised what she was striving for. Most of my long hair was swept up at the back on top of my head, but cascading down each side of my face were curly ringlets. It looked amazing, even though I say so myself.

I slid my legs into my stockings and then Beth helped me into my dress and zipped it up at the back. I slipped my feet into my high heels. I added my new silver necklace and bracelet. I really wanted to wear the new silver drop earrings that I had bought and Beth assured me that since it was now four weeks since I had had my ears pierced, there should be no problem. I gingerly removed the hoops from the lower holes in my ears. I gently worked my new earrings in. Beth was right, the holes had healed and there was no problem.

Another sign of how many obstacles there would be to me reverting to my old self. If that was what I wanted. Right now, I couldn't imagine that. Beth carefully spritzed me with perfume in strategic locations and left me to gather myself as it was nearly seven p.m.

Ready at last and now that I was alone, I checked out the full picture in the mirror. I was completely overwhelmed. If when I was Nick, I had seen a woman looking like I did right now, I think I would have been flabbergasted and overcome with desire. In some senses I was still overcome with desire. Desire to keep looking like a beautiful woman.

It really was quite amazing. Prior to the last four weeks, I had never had any thoughts of myself as a woman. I had never tried on women's clothing before. Had this been latent inside me all these years? It just felt so right at present.

My reverie was interrupted by Jools shouting up the stairs, "Cara, he's coming, I've just buzzed him in the main gates."

I felt my heart rise into my mouth and with a last look in the mirror, I went downstairs. Jools' eyes nearly popped out of her head, "My God, you look awesome!" Then she shook her head and refocused, "But what are you doing down already?"

I shrugged, "You called me and I'm ready."

She shook her head again, "No, you are never ready before the man arrives. You want to keep him waiting a few moments so he realises how worth waiting for, you are. So shoo!"

I grinned and headed back upstairs. I heard the doorbell ring. After a moment, Jools opened it and I heard her greet Paul. "Cara, Paul's here," she called up the stairs to me.

"Just a moment, I'm almost ready," I called down. I was standing at the top of the stairs completely ready, but made myself count to 200 before even thinking about moving. I heard Jools and Paul making polite conversation and eventually I slowly and gracefully descended the stairs. Paul was in mid sentence saying something to Jools when he spotted me. He stopped speaking and fixed his eyes on me as I walked slowly down the last few steps.

"Hi Paul," I said suddenly feeling quite shy. He just stood and stared at me, his mouth open. He didn't speak. "Erm Paul, are you OK?" I asked.

He shook his head slowly before speaking with a little smile on his face, "I don't think so. I think I've died and gone to heaven. Heavens above Cara, you look absolutely wonderful...I don't think I can find the words to do you justice."

I blushed from head to toe and looked away for a moment, feeling very self-conscious. I saw Jools slinking away, leaving us alone just inside the door. I smiled at Paul and walked up to him. I reached up to straighten his bow tie. He was wearing a brilliant white dress shirt and an immaculate perfect fitting tux which he filled out completely. "You don't look half bad yourself," I said, "I would almost think that tux had been designed and tailored for you alone."

He laughed and smiled down at me, "It was. But you, I mean,...wow!"

I laughed and gave him a little poke, "Now stop that, you're embarrassing me."

He winked at me and said, "I don't think I'm fit to drive tonight."

I humoured him, "OK why not?"

"Well I won't be able to watch the road as for this whole evening I'll be unable to tear my eyes away from you."

I laughed and poked him again, harder this time, "Oh you! Now come on, are we going dancing or not?"

"We certainly are," he said with a flourish which led to a bow and him taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. He stood up straight and offered me his arm. I couldn't help but giggle as he helped me on with my jacket and led me out of the door. He held open the door of the Porsche for me and I was extra careful to preserve my dignity as I got in, making sure none of the slits in my dress exposed me. Despite my best efforts, I think Paul got a more than generous glance at my stocking clad leg and thigh. I heard him give a low appreciative whistle as he closed the door. As we drove into Plymouth he kept looking over at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road driver," I admonished with mock severity. I couldn't help myself. I was very naughty but couldn't resist crossing and uncrossing my ankles and in the process letting one of the slits expose my legs again. I made a fuss of rearranging my dress immediately, but I knew that he saw. I felt deliciously mischievous.

"Cara, you are a tease!" he protested.

"Moi?" I exclaimed raising a hand to my chest, "Dear sir, you dost wound me."

He laughed, "But as I'm the luckiest man in the country tonight, I'll forgive you this once."

We arrived at the town hall and again he insisted on getting the car door for me. This time getting out of the car, I took extra care in preventing myself from indecent exposure as there were a fair number of people in the car park. I slipped my arm inside his and we went inside. As we ascended the front steps he murmured to me, "Oh I think I should probably warn you, the table we are at, will have a few people from my work at it. And well, that includes my parents."

"Paul!" I hissed, "That's terrible. Oh my goodness, talk about pressure. What have you told them?"

He smiled and patted my hand, "Only that I'm bringing along the most beautiful and delightful woman I have ever met and that I am sure they will approve of you."

"I think I feel sick," I moaned.

"Oh now come on, it won't be that bad. My parents are nice people. Well alright, my mother will probably be making less than subtle comments about marriage and the like. She is ever hopeful that her eldest son will settle down with a nice girl. And my colleagues are likely to do a bit of teasing, but apart from that, it will be fine."

"I definitely feel sick now!" I thought to myself that his poor mother would probably be horrified if she knew the truth about the 'nice girl' cavorting with her son. But then again, so probably would Paul himself. I sighed and took a deep breath and just tried to be as natural as I could.

The main hall was festively decorated and there was a large Christmas tree in one corner. Tables were laid out around the sides of the hall, leaving a large dance floor in the middle. There were a lot of people already here and the buzz of conversation made the place seem alive. We made our way to our assigned table and most people were already there and seated. When we arrived the men stood up.

I spotted Paul's father before anyone made any introductions. He was a handsome man, probably in his late fifties and looked like Paul. He had dark hair with silver streaks through it. He walked over, shook Paul's hand and turning to me, but speaking to Paul said, "So this must be the girl that has captured your heart Paul." He turned to me with a smile, "Paul told me he was bringing a beautiful woman, but I see that not for the first time, he wasn't telling me the truth."

I blinked a few times and smiled quizzically. What was he implying? He laughed and taking my hand lightly and shaking it said, "Because his words didn't do justice to how lovely you are. You must be Cara Malone. I'm Paul's father, Ronald Davis."

I shook my head slowly and laughed softly, "Well now I can see where Paul gets his devastating charm and good looks from."

Ronald raised an eyebrow and turned to Paul, "Not only beautiful but sharp-witted too."

Before Paul could say anything, an attractive middle-aged lady joined us and interrupted, "Now Ronald, I see I'm going to have to keep you in check tonight." She turned to me and smiled, "I'm Paul's mother, Lorraine. Delighted to meet you Cara. Although I fear I'm going to have to berate my husband all night to keep his eyes off you. Now come here with me and sit beside me and let's get to know each other."

As uneasy as I felt, Lorraine was easygoing and very friendly. It was easy to talk to her and she told me about her family including the obligatory embarrassing stories about Paul in his younger days. Much to his disgust of course. He sat on the other side of me and occasionally groaned at what his mother was telling me.

As others arrived at the table, the gentlemen stood up. I almost reflexively stood, when I realised that none of the other women at the table moved. I kept my seat.

Paul introduced me to several colleagues and their wives. The women looked at me with interest, and the men looked even closer with more than interest at times. I felt as if I was on display or worse, on trial. Several of his colleagues gave Paul a hearty handshake with a wink or nod and a smile. When they thought I wasn't looking I saw a few give him the thumbs up as they nodded in my direction. I felt embarrassed yet flattered at the same time.

As dinner was served, Lorraine insisted that I tell her all about myself. I tried not to give too much away and gave her basic details about my younger days and family. She asked about what I did and I explained that I was a singer and musician. I'm not sure that this was completely well received. I got the impression that I was moving in a circle of society wives and homemakers. Nonetheless she was charming and interested and made me tell her more about my music.

The dinner was good. It was a traditional Christmas dinner. I found however, that I couldn't eat too much. It was probably a combination of the restrictive nature of my corset and the nervousness of the moment. I had deflected all attempts to refill my wineglass. And I only drank about half of the glass of red wine that I started with. I noted that Paul didn't drink any. He saw me looking, winked at me and quipped, "I'm driving and transporting far too precious a cargo tonight to even consider drinking."

As the dessert course was cleared away and the coffee was served, Lorraine leant closer to me and conspiratorially said, "So is it true that you are going back to London and won't be around for a while?"

I nodded, "I'm afraid so. I was only staying here to get some inspiration for some new songs. I'm heading back on Sunday."

"Will you be back down here again?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I'm not really sure. I guess I might be."

She sighed, "Such a shame. You know my son is looking for a wife and I have to say, of the few potentials I have met in recent years, you are by far the loveliest and the most charming."

I didn't know what to say but was spared from immediately replying by Paul's intervention. "Mum!" he groaned, "Please! Don't embarrass both Cara and me. I've told you that we're just friends."

She gave Paul a knowing look, "Yes of course dear. So pray tell, what is wrong with this lovely girl that you wouldn't consider her in such a regard."

He looked even more uncomfortable now and I was glad he was on the receiving end of the questions and not I. He sighed, "She is beautiful, charming, intelligent, witty...," he paused and then shrugged before continuing almost resignedly, "Yes you are right, there is absolutely no reason why I wouldn't harbour such feelings about her." He looked into my eyes and smiled apologetically.

Lorraine turned to me. She really was unrelenting, "So Cara my dear, what do you think of my darling son?"

I paused and then smiled, "I think Paul is one of the most handsome and wonderfully charming men I have ever had the pleasure of keeping company with." This was quite true. But it wasn't enough for her.

"So?" she said encouraging me.

I shrugged awkwardly, "Well, it's just that our lives are going in different directions at the moment..."

She sighed, "Such a shame."

Thankfully we were spared further torture as the band started and people began to get up to dance. Paul seized the moment and stood up, "Would you care to dance Cara?"

"I'd love to," I gratefully accepted and he led me to the dance floor.

As we began to waltz, Paul apologised, "Cara I'm so sorry. I must apologise for my mother. She was even worse than usual tonight. I've never seen her so bad."

I laughed, "Paul your mother is a darling. From what I can see, she just adores her son and is doing her best to fix him up. I like her."

He smiled sheepishly, "I think that I'm not the only one that she adores too. She has taken a real shine to you." He paused before admitting softly, "And she's not the only one."

"Oh Paul," I said squeezing his hand. I didn't really know what else to say. I began to relax and enjoy the dancing. From being so foreign to me a few weeks ago, it seemed so natural now. Even though I was in my near-stiletto high heels, in Paul's arms I was able to dance quite freely. We enjoyed several dances before in a brief pause, we were interrupted. It was Paul's father.

"Now Paul, don't think you are going to monopolise this beautiful young woman all night. Move aside and let me show her how to really dance."

Paul laughed and gave his father a playful punch on the shoulder, "Alright Dad, but I want her back soon you hear."

Ronald waved him off with a smile and turned to me. He bowed and said, "May I have the pleasure?"

I laughed, curtsied and replied, "Why yes indeed." It was a Foxtrot and I realised that Paul had taken after his father in another way also. His father was quite the expert dancer too. Whilst not quite as nimble on his toes as Paul, he had quite a few extravagant moves to demonstrate.

"You're a lovely girl Cara and the last few weeks I've seen Paul a lot happier, if slightly more distracted, than I've seen him in a long time. You make a lovely couple. Now that's all I'm going to say as I'm sure my wife has already said far too much."

I laughed at him and looking up blinked a few times feeling embarrassed, "Thank you."

He laughed, "Oh my. Don't look at me that way girl. Now if I was 30 years younger," he paused and winked looking over his shoulder, "...and not married..." He laughed. So did I.

Paul sent his father packing after a few dances and when we started to dance again he was curious to know what his father had said. I told him. He laughed, "The old dog!"

As much as I wanted to dance with Paul for the rest of the night, every now and then we would be interrupted as other men, mostly Paul's colleagues, asked if they could cut in. Whilst it was flattering and intoxicating to receive so much attention, I got a little tired of making pleasant talk. Most of the men were not as good dancers as the Davis' men either. And the looks that I was attracting from their wives were a little disconcerting.

Paul rescued me as soon as possible and I whispered to him, "I just want to dance with you for the rest of the night if that's OK."

He smiled tenderly at me, "Fine by me."

As the evening was coming to a close, the last dance started. It wasn't a waltz or anything I was familiar with. In fact it seemed to be a slow dance. I noticed other partners drawing closer together and I felt my heart rate quicken. Paul smiled at me and gently pulled me closer to him. I slid my arms around his neck and felt his arms encircle my waist as he pulled our bodies together. We began to slowly sway to the music. He murmured into my ear, "Cara I wish this night would never end." Then he laughed softly, "Sorry, I know how corny that sounds."

I laughed and rested my head on one of his shoulders, "I know what you mean Paul."

We danced and held each other close. It was a special moment and I didn't think about it or rationalise it. I just enjoyed it. When the music came to an end, I raised my head and Paul smiled down at me. He leant forward and gently kissed me on the forehead and said, "Thank you so much for coming with me tonight."

I smiled, "Thank you for asking me. I really enjoyed it."

We said our goodbyes and I had to promise Lorraine I would come back to Plymouth to see her. But I think she meant for me to come back and see Paul. Ronald kissed me on the cheek and winked as Lorraine gave him a slap from behind. It was only when I got into Paul's car that I realised how tired I was. And how much my feet were hurting. I lay back in the seat and kicked off my shoes and curled up a little. Paul sat for a moment just looking at me and smiling before starting the car and driving off.
 

*          *          *
 
We drove back to Silsbury Manor in comfortable silence. It wasn't awkward at all. I buzzed the gates open and Paul stopped the car in front of the house. He smiled at me and said, "You know, you still haven't made good on your promise."

I smiled back, "And what promise is that pray tell?"

"You promised to sing and play for me and I have not yet had the pleasure."

I raised an eyebrow, "I promised that? How rash of me." I paused, "Well then, I guess you had better come in and I'll make good on my promise."

It was now past midnight and I reckoned the girls were probably in bed. At least Silsbury Manor was large enough that sound was unlikely to travel. I led Paul to the music room and closed the door. Suddenly I felt shy and self-conscious. "Paul, do you really want me to sing to you, I mean I feel kind of awkward."

He took my hand, "I'd love to hear you sing, but if you really don't want to, that's OK."

How could I refuse? I sighed, smiled and sat down at the piano, taking extra care to smooth my dress. I paused for a moment. What would I play him? "Paul, what do you want me to play for you? One of my own songs? Or something you'll recognise?"

"Oh one of your own songs definitely," he replied enthusiastically as he took up a position leaning on the grand piano in front of me. I nodded and thought. Which one would I play him? Not dancing, but flying. No. I couldn't. Yet it seemed only right that he heard it first. I swallowed, took a deep breath and started in. As I played and sang, I couldn't bring myself to look at him, I tried to forget he was there and focussed on the music. I brought it to its melancholic soulful finish, "And whenever I will think or dream of you, we're not dancing, but flying."

I stopped and sat there for a moment before I could look up at him. His chin was cupped in his hand as he leant on the piano. He was looking at me intently. He didn't say anything. I felt awkward and shrugged, "Well?" I smiled unsurely.

"You're amazing," he said softly. I laughed gently and looked away, waving a hand at him. "No seriously," he continued, "your playing is fantastic, the song is as good as anything I've heard and your voice is incredible." He paused, "That song?"

I nodded, "What about it?"

"When did you write it?" he asked as he walked over to beside where I was sitting.

I hesitated before answering, "Wednesday past, this week."

He nodded slowly, "I don't want to presume anything about who it is about or anything." He let his voice tail off.

I swallowed and looked down for a moment before looking up at him again. I replied softly, "It's about you Paul. It's about the wonderful time I've had with you, about the fantastic dancing and about how I'll never forget these past few weeks."

He smiled and took my hands in his and gently helped me onto my feet. "I'm really touched Cara, it's a beautiful song. Thank you." I shrugged awkwardly and looked down, but he lifted my chin gently with one of his hands. "Cara," he said softly, "may I kiss you?"

I swallowed hard and felt my stomach turn somersaults. My mind was screaming out that I couldn't kiss another man but I heard my voice betray me, "Yes Paul, I'd like that." He smiled and with his hand still gently under my chin, tilted my head up and leaned down.

His lips brushed mine softly. I felt as if my legs were going to turn to jelly and it seemed like a maelstrom of different emotions flooded my body. He smiled at me and raised an eyebrow as if asking a question. I nodded and he lowered his head to mine again. This time his lips pressed against mine firmly and he put his around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. It seemed only natural so I slid my arms around his neck. He kissed me with growing hunger and as my lips parted, I felt his tongue gently probe my mouth. My head was spinning from one extreme to another. From thinking that it was all wrong, to how much I was actually enjoying it.

After a few minutes we broke apart and Paul just held me close to himself in his arms. With what looked like sadness and regret in his eyes he looked down at me, "Cara Malone, my life will be so much duller without you."

I stroked his cheek, "Oh Paul. My life has become so much richer for having met you. Let's treasure the memories of good times rather than think of the downside."

He nodded and sighed, "You're right. But I will miss you. Stay in touch and don't forget me when you're famous."

I laughed, "I won't, I promise."

He broke the embrace and went over to get something from his coat. He came back with a little box shaped item wrapped in silver paper. He handed it to me shyly.

"What's this?" I asked curiously.

He smiled, "It's a little Christmas present for you."

My hand flew to my mouth, "Paul, I didn't get you anything. I'm so sorry. I never thought."

He shrugged, "You don't need to get me anything." He paused, "Sure you gave me the gift of this lovely song." With a wink he continued, "Plus you can send me a signed copy of your top selling album when it comes out."

I laughed, "I'll do that." I eagerly opened the wrapping paper to find a little black box. I opened it and inside was an exquisite pair of diamond stud earrings. I gasped, "Paul, they're absolutely lovely. You shouldn't have!"

He shrugged, "It's not much really. I just wanted to get you something to remember me by."

I hugged him, "Thank you so much Paul." We sort of stood there awkwardly then. He smiled and shifted, saying, "Well I guess this is it. I'd better be getting home." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some business cards, "Here, all my contact details. Make sure you stay in touch."

I took them, "I promise I will." We walked to the front door, arm in arm. He put on his coat and then turned back to me, taking me in his arms and tenderly kissed me again. "Goodbye my love," he said softly as he opened the door to leave.

"Bye Paul," I said and waved as he descended the steps. I stood there until the taillights of his car faded as he drove down the driveway. Eventually I went inside and closed the door. I walked slowly upstairs to my room.

I really wasn't sure how I felt. Sad? Yes. Puzzled? Most definitely. Whilst I had revelled in the occasion of the evening, what with the glamour and the dancing, and whilst I had certainly responded to Paul's touch and kiss, I still felt perplexed. Part of me felt that it wasn't right. I certainly had feelings for Paul, but what kind of feelings? Deep down inside, I still felt that it wasn't right for me to think of such feelings for another man.

These were the thoughts whirling around inside my head as I removed my makeup, brushed out my hair and got undressed for bed. My last thought before getting into bed however was to scribble a brief note and stick it on the outside of my door:

 

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 8
 
 
I woke some time after 11a.m. the next morning and, after languishing on in bed for a while, got up and had a relaxing shower. When I came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, I went into my bedroom and dropped the towel. I surveyed my body in the full length mirror. Over the past week or so, I had thought I had noticed some changes and I was right.

My skin did seem noticeably softer. Whether that was just the good care I was taking of it with the moisturising, or whether it was the hormones I didn't know. But more than that, my figure had changed. I had put on a little weight. This was not a bad thing given how scrawny I had been. I put that down to the good healthy eating over the last month. And my muscles were better toned which was undoubtedly a result of the exercise program that Beth had ruthlessly inflicted on us.

Also I had a really nice all over tan now and I had very visible tan lines which would not be going away in a hurry. I think I looked healthier than I had ever looked in my life. I certainly felt that way. But there were more changes. I wasn't wearing my corset yet I could see the definite shaping of a more feminine waistline and I wasn't sure if it was my paranoia, but I think my hips and bottom were fuller also. Another thing I had noticed was some discomfort under my breast forms. If I pressed the forms tighter against my skin, it was quite tender. I made a mental note to mention this to Beth or Jools.

I decided to try a more casual look that day. I dressed in a bra, no corset today, a simple white blouse and my pair of denim jeans over brown ankle boots. I kept my makeup simple and understated. I brushed my hair and tied it behind my head in a ponytail.

I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. I was very pleased. I had been worried that I had to dress ultra-feminine in skirts and dresses with lots of makeup in order to convincingly appear as a woman. But looking back at me in the mirror was evidently a pretty girl. The jeans were quite tight-fitting with some flaring at the bottoms of the legs. They looked very fetching. Whilst the crotch looked flat, it did feel a little uncomfortable, even though I was wearing my gaff to keep my privates out of harm's way. I popped my hoop earrings into my ears and the little diamond studs that Paul had given me into the other holes.

I went down to the kitchen to find Jools and Beth chatting over a cup of coffee. "Well at last the party girl decides to join us," Jools quipped.

I stuck my tongue out at her, "I need some coffee."

Beth poured me a cup and commented, "That's the first time I've seen you wearing your jeans. You know you look really good in them."

"Thanks," I replied with a smile as I eagerly took the proffered coffee from her. Still standing before them I continued, "Notice anything else different about me?"

Beth wrinkled her brow, "Oh new earrings?" She came over and looked at the diamond studs, "Very nice."

I nodded, "Well yes. Not what I meant but yes. Paul gave them to me as a present." As the whistles and comments started up I held up my hand, "Now leave that for a moment, all in good time. But do you notice anything else different about me? My figure?"

Jools shook her head, "No you look great as always. What are you getting at?"

I smiled, "I'm not wearing a corset today."

They both raised their eyebrows and Beth grinned, "Well where did you get that waist from then honey?"

I shrugged, "Well, I guess it's the hormones."

They both wanted to see. So although it was a little undignified, I unbuttoned my jeans and slipped them down my hips a little and lifted up my blouse. "My oh my," mused Jools, "you do indeed have your own waist now. Any other effects you've noticed?"

I explained about my skin being softer and that I thought my hips and bottom were fuller. They agreed but emphasised that they were by no means too big. I also mentioned about being a little tender under my breast forms. Jools nodded, "Hmm, well you have had them on for about a month now. It probably is time to remove the adhesive and give your skin a breather and we can check you out. Do that tonight?" I nodded my assent.

I sat down and helped myself to a croissant as I sipped my coffee. Then the inquisition began and my two interrogators made me recount every detail of the previous night. They roared with laughter as I told them about Paul's mother and her comments. And they smirked when I told them about all the men dancing with me. I became more hesitant as I came towards the details of the end of the evening.

"Well?" Jools prompted.

"Well what?" I replied.

She sighed, "Well, did he kiss you? Or do you want to keep such details to yourself."

I grinned and they both nodded. "He did kiss you," said Beth.

I nodded slowly, "Yes, he did. I sang one of my new songs for him and afterwards he kissed me."

Jools smiled and probed gently, "How did you feel about it?"

I shrugged and answered honestly, "Confused mainly. I mean I guess it was nice. It was exciting and I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest." I paused, "Yet I felt uncomfortable. It felt strange, sort of wrong. I don't think it felt right overall."

Beth nodded sympathetically, "Well it was sort of your first real kiss. Well as a girl anyway. Maybe it's just because it's so new."

I nodded, "Perhaps, but I don't think so. I think I need to be careful."

Jools nodded too and laid a hand on my arm, "You're right of course. You have to be very aware of the effect you will have on men. In their eyes you are extremely desirable and if you are uncomfortable with physical contact, I think you are wise to be cautious." She paused, "I mean you know better than either of us how a man thinks, but a lot of men are going to want to do more than kiss you." She gave me a knowing look.

I swallowed and nodded. I understood her perfectly and I resolved to be far more careful. I was going to have to make sure I didn't lead men on, as I wasn't prepared to go where they might think I was leading.

Beth cocked her head, "Which song did you sing him out of interest?"

I paused, "Err 'Not dancing, but flying'."

Jools perked up, "'Not dancing, but flying'? I haven't heard that one yet. Come on, drink up your coffee and let us hear it."

I did as instructed but as we made our way to the music room and as I sat down at the piano, I felt a certain reluctance. It was an intense song and as they heard it, they may think it contradicted some of the words I had just shared with them at the table. Nonetheless, I played it for them and didn't hold back on the emotion.

"Wow," said Beth, "It's no wonder he kissed you. In fact, I'm surprised he didn't ask you to marry him!"

Jools looked at me appraisingly, "Is that song, really an expression of how you feel?"

"Well yes. And no," I replied hesitantly. "I don't really know. The song seems right, the reality is a little hazier. It's confusing, but heck, irrespective of how I feel about real life, does this sort of sentiment seem wrong for me to convey as a singer and an artist? If you can follow what I mean?"

Jools nodded slowly, "I think I get you. Looking and listening to you, the song seems perfectly understandable."

I wanted to change the subject, "Moving on -- one thing Paul's gift reminded me about was that it is Christmas in like four days time and I haven't bought my family any presents. So how about a little shopping trip?" This met with all round approval.
 

*          *          *
 
We certainly did shop! Town was very busy, but we battled on manfully. No that sounds wrong. OK, we battled on womanfully. I eventually got the presents sorted out. And of course, we did happen to drift into a few clothes stores and yes, I did get tempted and give in and buy more clothes. I bought a narrow black below-knee length skirt and a cuddly chunky red roll-neck jumper. I wanted to expand my range of 'not-too-sexy' clothes. Perhaps it was the buying of presents for my family that had put me into this frame of mind again.

When we got back, we were all exhausted and after vegging out in front of the TV for a while, I decided to get an early night as I was still tired from the previous night out.

When I got up on Sunday morning, I was very aware that this was my last day at Silsbury Manor. Jools and I were planning to leave for the drive back up to London around tea-time. I went to Church with the girls as usual and felt much more at home and relaxed this time.

Mabel made a delicious Sunday lunch and afterwards, as we were all reeling from having eaten too much, I handed out some Christmas presents. I gave Mabel some perfume, conservative of course, and Sam a bottle of aftershave. Mabel clucked and fussed and with a lot of 'thank you me dear's and 'you shouldn't have's gave me a big hug and told me she would miss having me around. Sam gave me a peck on the cheek and thanked me.

I then gave the girls their presents. They opened them after some token scolds that I shouldn't have gone to such trouble. There were a lot of gasps as they opened them. Jools held up the fine gold chain and exclaimed how much she adored it. Beth slipped on her bracelet and pronounced similar sentiments. There was a lot of hugging and it did seem like it was the end of an era. There were a few tears all round, mine included.

They helped me pack, thankfully. I borrowed a large and a small suitcase and we managed to get my now extensive wardrobe packed into them. What with all my clothes, shoes, boots, cosmetics, jewellery, hair brush and hair dryer, I was leaving Silsbury Manor a lot more heavy laden than when I had arrived just over a month before. It was surprising given that when I had arrived, I had nothing more than the clothes I was wearing. And my music equipment! I had to get it all packed up too. Fitting everything into Jools' car was a tight squeeze but we managed it. After a quick bite to eat and with a lot more hugging and a few more tears, Jools and I said our goodbyes to Beth.

Beth wiped a few tears from her eyes. "You take care of yourself Cara Malone," she said tenderly as she hugged me, "Just remember that you are beautiful and charming. You're a lovely woman and to be honest, it doesn't matter whether you are successful or not, because that won't change the person you've become."
 

*          *          *
 
Neither Jools nor I said much for the early part of our journey. Beth's parting words to me had certainly struck home with me. I had started to think she was right. It was terrifying but also liberating. I had been fearful of not getting the record deal and having gone through everything over the last four weeks for nothing. But I realised that Beth was right. It would not be for nothing. To say that would be to cheapen all that we had done and achieved, all the good times we had enjoyed.

I couldn't remember a time before in my life when I felt as good about myself as I did now. This was liberating in that I could go to Sony tomorrow and if I was rejected so be it. For the first time in my inauspicious career to date I didn't have the gut wrenching fear of being turned down yet again. But on the other hand, this was also quite terrifying. Because the thoughts that had been crystallising in my mind were now quite clear.

What would I do if we didn't land the big deal? Give up and go back to being Nick? I now knew that I didn't want to do that. Well not at the moment anyway. For now I wanted to be Cara, I liked who I was and I loved the music I was making. If we failed tomorrow, we would try again; Cara would try again.

This brought its own difficulties. I now accepted that no matter what happened the next day at Sony, within three days I was going to have to face my family and somehow try to explain things to them. I had no idea what I was going to say and the thought of it sent a freezing chill through my body. I must have shuddered outwardly because Jools noticed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

"Mmm?" I murmured coming back to the present, "Oh right yes." I shrugged, "Oh you know, I was just thinking about telling my family about all this." I gestured to myself.

Jools nodded, "Well don't worry about it yet. I mean, depending on tomorrow, if things don't go too well, which I'm sure they will though, but if they didn't, you wouldn't have to tell them."

I looked at her and gave a wry smile, "Jools, tell me do you honestly think that if things go badly tomorrow that I can just switch back to being Nick within 48 hours? Seriously, do you think I can make myself look masculine again just like that?" Before she got a chance I cut in again, "Alright before you say it, I guess I never really looked masculine, but what I'm saying is, I think I'd find it hard to convince people I was really a man, don't you?"

Jools smiled, "You may be right, but we could work something out, don't worry about it."

I gave a little laugh, "Jools, I'm not worried about going back to being Nick." I hesitated, "Well because I don't think it's on the agenda whatever happens."

She nearly swerved the car into the roadside verge. I think I must have caught her off guard, "Cara, what are you saying? Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

I nodded, "Yes. It's taken me a while to realise it, but even if things don't work out tomorrow, I still want to be Cara. For the meantime anyway."

"Wow," she said her eyes agog, "this is a biggie!"

I nodded and tried to explain to her the way I had been feeling over the past few weeks and how happy I had been and was still. I think she understood. Explaining it to someone else helped me work through it too. However I doubted other people, namely my family, would be as understanding.

We chatted amiably for the rest of the journey and it was about 9 p.m. when we eventually arrived back at Jool's apartment. The unpacking and lugging in of all our stuff was painful and tedious. At last we got all the stuff in. I now filled the wardrobe in the spare room which I was occupying. I knew all my 'Nick' stuff was in one of the storerooms downstairs, but there was nothing there I could think of that I wanted.

After we had settled down and had a cup of tea, I reminded Jools that we were going to sort out my breast forms. I had been too tired the previous evening to be bothered. I slipped off my blouse and bra and Jools eased the adhesive solvent under the edges of the breast forms. She gently worked it in and slowly bit by bit, we managed to lift the forms off. To say it was a weight off my shoulders would be a terrible pun, but also true. However I felt strange and unbalanced without the now familiar weight of my breasts on my chest.

As Jools put the solvent away, I inspected myself. "Err Jools?" I called, "Come and have a look."

She turned around, looked over at me and her eyebrows shot up, "Wow, no wonder you have been a little uncomfortable and tender."

As I looked down I nodded, "Yes I guess this explains it." As I looked down I could see two fairly prominent mounds on my chest. Where before I had been flat, I now had developing breasts and my nipples were much larger. And very sensitive as I discovered when I gently rubbed them. "I guess these hormones really are doing their business on me," I mused.

Jools put a hand on my arm tentatively, "Cara, well are you OK? I mean to be honest, I didn't think the hormones would work this much in this time. I don't know if you are particularly sensitive to them or something. Do you like what you see?"

I looked up at Jools. I was amused at her concern, "No, I'm not quite happy Jools." I saw the growing concern in her eyes. I winked, "They're not really big enough for me yet."

She looked at me for a moment before smiling and slapping me lightly on the arm, "Are you sure? I mean this is serious."

I thought for a moment and nodded slowly, "After what we talked about in the car, I can't help but be happy with how things are going. I mean if I say I am committed, I'm going to have to back up my words with actions." I think this was the first point that a certain idea came to me. Something I would have to pursue and think about. But more of that later.

I slipped my blouse on, and said my goodnights to Jools. In my room, I gently rubbed some moisturiser cream into my breasts. My breasts. Strange. But nice. I slipped on my nightdress and shivered at the sensations of the silky material caressing my sensitive nipples. It had been an exhausting day and I didn't lose any sleep over the thought of the meeting the next morning.
 

*          *          *
 
I woke early the next morning in anticipation of the day ahead. It was just before 7 a.m. I got up quietly and headed into the bathroom and had a relaxing foamy bath and washed and conditioned my hair. I dried off and wrapping a towel round me, headed back to my room. I met a bleary-eyed Jools on her way to the bathroom. She gave me a sleepy hug and asked me if I needed any help getting ready. I shook my head and assured her I would be OK but that I would appreciate her opinion on the final look.

Back in my room, I began to get dressed. Although I was pleased with my new-found natural waistline, I decided I would go for the full enhanced look and put on my corset, slipping my breast forms into the cups. I tightened the corset viciously to get my waist as narrow as possible.

I was determined that today Mr. Simon Andrews was going to see as 'marketable' an image as he had ever seen in his life to date. I slipped on a pair of black silk patterned stockings and attached them to the suspenders on my corset. I revelled in the lovely sensation of wearing stockings. As strange as it had been at first, I had quickly grown to love the feeling. I could understand why women would say they feel sexier when wearing stockings. There is something deliciously sexy about it and I was going for unashamedly sexy today. I pulled on my black Lycra body top. I clipped the bodysuit buttons closed under my crotch.

It defined my 'enhanced' features perfectly and clung to my body. It had long sleeves and a polo neck top. I pulled on my black and white checked miniskirt. It was short. Mid-thigh. Of course it had to be my black suede knee-length high heeled boots.

I sat down at the dressing table and blow-dried my hair. I added a lot of hairspray and tried to give my hair as much body as possible. My hair was fuller and thicker and was growing. Although it was lengthened by the hair extensions Beth had given me, I figured that my own natural hair was probably now coming to just below my shoulder blades. After a lot of brushing, I was happy with my hair and moved to concentrate on my makeup.

I carefully applied the foundation and setting powder. I delicately outlined my eyes with a kohl pencil. I was going for a slightly heavier appearance than my normal daytime makeup. After eye shadow and giving my lashes a luscious coat of black mascara, I highlighted my cheekbones with rouge. Next lipstick. I outlined my lips with a red lip pencil. Then as Beth had taught me, I painted my lips with red lipstick. I blotted and then added a final coat of gloss.

I had plenty of time so I took the time to carefully paint my nails the same shade of red as my lipstick. I added some Obsession perfume, a chunky silver chain over my black polo neck top, matching silver bracelet on my right wrist and my long silver pendant earrings. I added a pair of medium sized hoop earrings into my other holes and decided that I was probably done.

I stood up, took a deep breath and turned to check myself out in the full length mirror. I was amazed at how my appearance could continue to surprise me time and time again. There was no doubt about it. I looked hot. I struck a few poses and made a few pouts. I felt very sexy and looking in the mirror, I knew I looked every bit as sexy as I felt. I felt good. Watch out Sony, here I come.

Jools was already sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. She was smartly dressed in a navy pinstripe jacket and trouser suit over a white blouse. Her hair was pulled back from her face and her makeup was neat and understated. She smiled at me as I walked in. "My goodness, who has taken my Cara and replaced her with this sex kitten?"

I laughed and purred at her. Then more seriously, "Do I look OK?"

"OK?" she exclaimed, "You look one hundred percent drop dead sexy gorgeous."

I laughed again. "It's not too much is it? Over the top?"

She paused and shook her head, "Not at all. To be honest, Miss Cara-gonna-be-a-rock-star I doubt that you could look too sexy. Nothing would be too much. Well perhaps except full frontal nudity."

I grinned and playfully swatted her, "You look great too. Every bit the business executive."

She smiled and straightened her jacket, "One of us has to look respectable. I'm the cool-headed on-the-level agent. You're the stroppy tarty rock star."

I pouted and chuckled, "I'm not a stroppy tart."

Jools raised an eyebrow as if to say 'yeah sure', but what she said was, "Want any breakfast?"

I made a face, "Ugh no. All I think I can face is a cup of coffee."

Jools nodded, "Yes me too. I know how you feel."

After our coffee, we got ready to leave. It was now just after 9 a.m. and we had to meet Simon Andrews at the Sony building at 10. Jools had booked a taxi as she didn't want us to have to face the hassle of taking the tube this morning. And of course since we had some degree of sanity, driving ourselves into central London was totally out of the question. As a car horn honked outside, I pulled on my cropped black jacket. Jools had her 'I'm-an-executive' navy leather briefcase under her arm. We both checked our appearance in the hall mirror.

"Dressed to kill?" I murmured.

Jools sniggered, "Well I know I am, but you? More like dressed to thrill!" We grinned at each other, hugged and went out.

I was very aware of the eyes of the taxi driver moving up and down my body as we came out and got into the back of the taxi. I was fairly careful to smooth my skirt down as I got in, but not overly careful. Heck, I felt sexy. I looked good and today was all about flaunting the good about myself. I gave the driver a shy smile and had to hide my smirk as I saw him flush.

Jools nudged me and hissed softly, "Stop that you!" She winked, "Save it for later." She gave the driver his instructions and he drove off.
 

*          *          *
 
As we walked into the Sony building, I felt my mouth grow dry and I began to get more nervous. What if Simon Andrews recognised me? What if they laughed at me? "Are you sure they are expecting us Jools?" I murmured.

"Of course they are. I telephoned on Friday past to confirm and I was put straight through to Simon Andrews. He remembered. He hadn't forgotten and said he was looking forward to meeting this mystery woman. I told him you were called Cara Malone. You'll do fine. And I'll handle the business side of things."

I sighed and swallowed. From the main reception, we were directed up to the 4th floor offices. Unlike my last visit here, there wasn't long to wait. We had barely sat down, before Simon Andrews came bounding out of his office. He came over to us and we stood up. He smiled and held out his hand to me, "Miss Malone, I presume. Simon Andrews. A pleasure to meet you."

I was tempted to tell him we'd already met but refrained. Instead I smiled demurely, "Mr. Andrews, so good to meet you at last."

He turned to Jools and shook her hand again, "And good to see you again Miss Carstairs."

I was aware of his eyes looking me up and down. 'Take a good look buster,' I thought. He showed us into his office and made a show of pulling out the seats from the round table for us. No formally sitting behind his desk this time. He sat down beside me and laid his hands on the table. He smiled again. I thought that his jaw was going to fall off if he smiled any wider.

"Well Miss Malone, I have to say it's good to meet the mystery singer behind the disk we heard some weeks back. We were quite impressed and were keen to see if you lived up to your promise in the flesh."

I smiled back at him through half closed eyelids, "Oh Mr. Andrews, I can assure you that I can live up to my promise. But as for my flesh? I'm flattered by your interest, but I thought I was here to talk about my singing?"

Jools gave a half cough, half choke. Simon Andrews went beet red and looked a little flustered, "Ah well, I mean, that's not what I was saying." He looked away and then looked back, "It was just a turn of phrase..." He saw the amused smile on my face and said, "You're teasing me."

I gave a little laugh, "I would never presume to tease someone as important as you."

He regained his composure and the smile returned, "Ah now you're flattering me. Now, where were we? Ah yes. Your demo was very interesting and we would be keen to consider possibilities. On the demo you were singing cover versions. Certainly the vocal performance was very good as was the instrumentation, but we were wondering whether you perform original material or whether you would be considering trying some songs written by others?"

I nodded, "Oh I would plan on singing my own material. I've written several songs."

His smile grew wider, "Really? Well this is promising. Now of course, I'd be very keen to hear some of the material and to hear you sing in the...to sing live I mean, but we can proceed to that shortly."

He sat back and paused for a moment before smiling expansively, "Miss Malone, I have to be honest and say that I think that based on what we have heard of your talent thus far, we would probably be in a position to consider offering you a recording contract. Subject to hearing you perform for us of course. What would you say to that?"

I smiled and in a measured tone replied, "Well Mr. Andrews, that's what I'm here for and certainly subject to mutual agreement of the details, it sounds like good news."

He nodded enthusiastically, "Well obviously, you'll want to consider the details in depth, but I have here the outline summary of the deal we have on the table." He handed us each a sheet of paper with several points on it. We both began to scan down it. I noticed Jools nodding at points and I tried to take it in.

Jools spoke, "Mr. Andrews, it seems like most of the details are reasonable and it looks like a fairly standard contract..."

"Hold on Jools," I interrupted gently, "I'm not sure I'm totally happy with all of it." Jools fired me a glance as if to say 'what are you doing?' but I gave her the 'trust me' glance in return.

Simon Andrews smiled beneficently at me and in an almost patronising tone asked, "What seems to be the problem Miss Malone?"

I smiled sweetly at him, "Well certainly it appears fine in most details, but this is only a deal for one album and then to be renegotiated thereafter. I really am looking for a longer-term outlook. Now if it could be amended to a deal for at least two albums it would be much more acceptable." I sensed Jools shifting in her seat but ignored it as I focussed my attention on Simon Andrews.

He smiled, "Now Miss Malone, unfortunately for a new artist with an unknown pedigree, this would be the standard deal in most circumstances."

"In most circumstances?" I pressed.

"Well yes. Occasionally there might be an exception and a longer deal offered at the outset."

"Why would such exceptions be made?"

He looked a little uncomfortable, "Well if we felt the artist showed exceptional talent and we were keen to ensure a mutually profitable long term relationship with the artist, I guess we might make such an offer."

I smiled again and softly, "So if the artist showed exceptional talent such a deal could be offered?" I raised an eyebrow. Jools looked like she was going to swallow her tongue, but to her credit she tried to remain outwardly composed. I knew she was going to roast me afterwards though.

Simon Andrews laughed a little nervously, "Oh Miss Malone, I don't doubt you have exceptional talent. Let me say that your talent is as yet unproven. Unfortunately this is the deal that I am authorised to offer you."

I nodded, "Ah. So you would need someone else to authorise the deal I am seeking? I don't mean to pressure you Mr. Andrews but I am determined to aim for long-term success and I'm afraid I'm going to have to be insistent on this point."

He forced a smile, "Alright. Look, let me go and talk to someone and I'll see what I can do for you." He stood up and went into an anteroom just off his office. He left the door ajar.

"What are you playing at?" Jools hissed. "Are you trying to blow the deal?"

"No," I hissed back, "But for all I have gone through for this and am going to have to go through, we're going to get it right or not do it at all. If it doesn't work out, we can try elsewhere. Now shush, let's see if we can hear what he is saying."

Jools threw her hands up and nodded, "OK."

We listened carefully: he was on the phone. "Ah yes, Mr. Johnston. I've got Cara Malone here with me." "Yes, she is keen, but is asking for more than the standard deal." "No I haven't heard her sing yet, but we were getting to that." "Yes she writes her own songs apparently." "How does she look? Well let's say, there are no problems whatsoever in that department. She would make the PR department's day, if not their year." "OK, well that's probably not necessary..." "Right, we'll wait for you. Good-bye."

We heard him set the phone down and after a brief moment, he re-entered the room and sat down at the table again. He smiled, "Well Miss Malone, it seems you are to be favoured with meeting Mr. Johnston. He's on his way down to meet you and wants to hear you sing for him."

I raised an eyebrow, "Mr. Johnston, should I know him?"

"Ken Johnston, he's one of the senior executives. My boss I guess."

A few minutes later there was a little knock at the door and a slightly balding man in his late fifties entered. He had a ruddy complexion with a lot of laughter lines around the eyes. He walked over to the table. He acknowledged Simon with a wave and a nod. Turning his attention to us, he smiled expansively, "Well ladies, good to meet you, I'm Ken Johnston." He held out his hand to Jools, "Ms. Carstairs I presume."

Jools shook his hand and inclined her head, "Mr. Johnston, nice to meet you."

He turned to me and smiled, "And this must be the delightful Miss Malone that Simon here has been raving about to me." He extended his hand.

I cast a quick glance to Simon Andrews who looked as if he was about to protest but he didn't say anything. I delicately held out my hand and shook his hand, and in a soft voice, "Mr. Johnston, it's a pleasure."

He raised an eyebrow, "Ah, you're Welsh I take it from your accent?"

"I am indeed." I immediately took a liking to this man. He was sincere and had a warmth about him.

Mr. Johnston clapped his hands together, "Now what's say we go up to one of the studios on the 10th floor and get you to put your Welsh voice into action?"

We agreed and he held the door open for us. He led us to the elevators with Simon Andrews in tow. On the tenth floor we entered a small studio which had a piano, keyboard, various guitars, a drum kit, microphone and small P.A. system. It was obviously a performance studio rather than a recording studio. There was no recording equipment to be seen.

"Now," Mr. Johnston said enthusiastically, "Why don't you just fire ahead and play us some songs. We'll just sit over here by the side and listen."

I nodded and smiled nervously, "Umm alright." I went to the piano and adjusted a microphone to the right height. I made sure the P.A. was on and tested the sound level of the microphone and added a little reverb to the vocal channel. I sat down at the piano and played a few test chords to get the feel of the keyboard's action. It was a delightful Yamaha baby grand piano with a good action and lovely tones.

For a moment I almost had a blank, as I didn't know what song to play. I took a deep breath, and started into 'Nine years old again'. I used the nervousness and adrenaline to my best advantage and tried to deliver the best performance I could. I didn't look at my audience. I just focussed on the music, the song, the moment. I gave it a good shot and I think I did all right. But I wanted to keep going with the adrenaline flow so without looking over at the three seated at the edge of the room, I started straight into 'I just wanna be me'. I was beginning to feel a little more at ease and relaxed as I played the by now familiar jazzy chords. I started to look over at my 'audience' more and try to engage them in the performance. The lyrics of the song lent themselves to this and I would smile, cock my head, even pout at times:
 
 

"I'm dreamin' my own dreams, not fulfilling yours,  I'm throwing off the bonds, I'm gonna be free,  I'm releasing my true spirit, a spirit that endures  Cos I just wanna be me."

 
 
I finished and stared straight ahead of myself for a moment or two before looking over at Jools and the two men. Jools smiled me an encouraging smile and I smiled back at her. The two men were smiling too. Mr. Johnston got up and walked over to me. He put a gentle hand on my left shoulder and said, "Well Miss Malone, you have a great voice and I thoroughly enjoyed those songs. I think you show a lot of promise. Would you mind indulging me some though? Do you have any other songs you could play for us? Maybe two more?"

I smiled and nodded, "Certainly Mr. Johnston." He smiled and returned to his seat. I paused for a moment to compose myself and began the introduction of 'Not dancing, but flying'. I was beginning to love this song. Yes it was essentially a soft romantic ballad, but I knew it was a darn good one.

"And whenever I will think or dream of you, We're not dancing, but flying." I stopped, looked over at them and smiled.

I thought they looked impressed, or rather I was hoping they were. I cleared my throat, "For the next song, I think I'll need to play it on the guitar." I selected the timeless Fender Stratocaster and adjusted the strap. I checked the amplifier and played a few test chords. On the effects rack, I added a mild distortion and a little chorus effect. Happy with the sound, I started into the rocky chords of 'No half measures'. With guitar in hand, microphone in front of me, I felt the buzz of live performance come over me. I really began to enjoy myself as I let rip with all I had for the final chorus:
 
 

"For when you feel it's over and there's no point going on,  Is when you realise what is chaff and what're your treasures,  But if there's half a chance of making it, join me in this song,  Let's kick down the ever-closing doors -- no half measures!"

 
 
I finished on the requisite power chord and allowed the sound to gradually diminish in a distorted haze. I stood up, smiled and winked at my audience and said, "Thank you and good night."

Mr. Johnston laughed and got to his feet and applauded, "My dear, you are extremely talented and I'm sure Simon here will be able to work out a mutually acceptable deal with you both. I think you have a great future here and I'm already looking forward to hearing your first album. But I have one question for you."

"Sure," I said almost breathlessly, "ask away."

He winked, "Where have you been all these years up to now?"

I grinned and furiously thought how to answer. The truth wouldn't do: well Ken, I used to be a guy but wasn't getting anywhere. I smiled at him and winked back, "Where have I been? Waiting for this moment Mr. Johnston is the answer."

He laughed and didn't ask anything further. He and Simon led the way back to the elevator. Jools nudged me and whispered, "You were awesome! And you should have heard what they said about you."

"What did they say?" I whispered back.

She grinned, "Ken lent over to Simon and said 'She's gorgeous, she's sexy, she's a fantastic singer and the songs are damn good. Sign her up OK?'"

I chewed my lip and stifled a little gasp and hissed, "They really said that?"

Jools giggled softly, "No, they said you're boot ugly and couldn't sing to save your life." She saw my feigned pout, "Seriously, straight up, they loved you."

Mr. Johnston left us at the elevator after shaking our hands again. Back in Simon Andrew's office, we sat down again at the round table. He smiled, "Well Miss Malone, Miss Carstairs. I've managed to persuade Mr. Johnston that we should make an exception for you with the contract offer. I'm now in a position to amend the deal for at least two albums. How's that?"

Whilst I'm sure both we all knew that it wasn't really his decision, it seemed prudent to appear grateful. Jools nodded and smiled, "Thank you Mr. Andrews, we appreciate your efforts on our behalf. We're sure you won't be disappointed."

He nodded and smiled, "From what I've heard this morning, I share your hopes Miss Carstairs. Now I'm presuming that you will want some time to peruse the finer details of the contract. One thing to clarify though: will you be requiring session musicians or do you have your own band?"

Jools fired a questioning glance at me. I nodded and paused briefly before speaking, "Err well I'm in the middle of putting my own band together at the moment."

He nodded, "OK, so will the contract be with yourself as the solo artist or with a band?"

Jools took over, "The contract will be with Cara Malone and we will sort out the sub-contractual details with the band."

He nodded again, "That should be fine. Assuming completion of the contract, our standard advance against the first album would be  £100,000 with some expenses for music equipment on top of that. Would that be satisfactory?"

I tried to keep my composure and tried to stop my eyes popping out of my head. I calmly nodded and Jools did the same as she replied, "That should be adequate." Adequate? One hundred grand? I could hardly believe it. It brought the pressure to succeed back into focus.

"One more question for now," Simon Andrews continued, "If we could meet early in the new year to try to finalise the contract, how long after that do you think it would be before you would be ready to enter the studio?"

I chewed my lower lip. I needed to give myself time to find my currently non-existent band. I replied hesitantly, "I think about three months to be honest. I want to have the band well practised and rehearsed and work on some more material." I paused briefly and came up with a further reason that I though would appeal to him more, "After all, I don't want to waste expensive recording time on practising or writing new material." That did the trick as he nodded in agreement.

"Well then," he said with a smile and extending his hand to me again, "Here's to a long and successful relationship."

I smiled and shook his hand as did Jools. He ushered us out and wished us a Merry Christmas and told Jools to ring his secretary after Christmas to arrange an appointment to finalise the contract.

It wasn't until Jools and I hit the street outside and walked a few hundred yards away that we let our guard down. She turned to me and grinned before hugging me in a big bear hug and squealed, "We did it, oh my but we have done it!"

I laughed and hugged her back as the tension began to fade, "I know, I can hardly believe it. Is it real?"

"It most definitely is. I have the papers in my case to prove it. And the promise of a hundred grand!"

I smiled and we paused on the pavement, I mused, "I don't think he suspected anything, I mean I don't think he made the connection between Cara and Nick."

Jools laughed, "Oh you connected with him all right I'd say, but not in that way."

We walked on and tried to find somewhere for lunch. I had an appointment with Dr. Carson that afternoon. Just as I relaxed from one ordeal, I had another trial to face.
 

*          *          *
 
Dr. Janice Carson's consulting rooms were in Harley Street of course. As we walked up the steps to the classically stylish Georgian town house I murmured to Jools, "This isn't going to be cheap is it?"

She grinned at me, "Well no, but it'll not put too much of a dent in a hundred grand."

I gave the receptionist my name and after about 10 minutes sitting in the waiting room, a well dressed lady in a white coat came out. She looked to be in her late forties, but had obviously kept herself in good shape. She came over to us and we stood up. She hugged Jools, "Julie, so good to see you again. And this must be your friend Cara." She turned to me and smiled as we shook hands. She turned to Jools and raised her eyebrows, before turning back to address me, "Well Cara, why don't you come on in. Julie you don't mind waiting here do you? I think it would be more appropriate."

Jools shrugged and nodded but looked a little ill at ease, "Uhh sure Dr. Carson."

She led me into her consulting room. It was spacious, well lit and tastefully furnished. She indicated a seat on one side of her desk and she sat down opposite me. She looked intently at me and then smiled and shook her head before speaking, "You know, if I wasn't aware of the nature of your referral here, I have to say, I wouldn't suspect a thing. Are you sure Julie has your details correct? This isn't a little joke of hers is it?"

I laughed, "It's not a joke and I'm flattered, thank you. But she was correct, I am...or rather I guess I was...well I don't know really." I paused and tried again, "I used to be Nick and now I'm Cara." I shrugged, "It's sort of complicated."

She nodded sympathetically, "I understand. Do you want to tell me about yourself?"

And so I began to tell her about myself. I had decided that the bare bones truth was not going to be good enough any more. So I told her about growing up, being teased, called pretty boy. I told her about how I didn't seem to fit in with most of my male peers and how I was often a little isolated. This was true, but a lot of it was self-imposed as I was so absorbed in my music. She asked about my family. I assured her I had a good relationship with my family and there were no problems there. Although when she asked if they knew about the changes taking place in my life, I guess I was obviously uncomfortable. She sensitively moved on and said we could talk about that later.

I moved on to tell her about the recent years living in London and struggling to make it as a musician. I told her about my lack of fulfilment and my discontent with my life. She asked about relationships. I told her that I hadn't had many and to be honest had only had one girlfriend. She gently asked if I had any experiences with men. I was quite hesitant, but told her that I had not had any before I was Cara but had kept company with a man in recent weeks. But I tried to tell her I wasn't quite clear on my feelings about that at the moment.

She asked me about what had prompted me to pursue this change in my life. I explained that it was a combination of everything that had happened so far and how Jools and I had chatted one day and she had persuaded me to let her try something new. I told her about how she had helped me dress and did my make up. She asked how I felt when I saw myself in the mirror. I paused. I told her I felt enthralled. This was true. However I also added more, probably reading back my current feelings more into that day and told her that I felt whole and more complete than I had ever been. I said it felt like a light had been switched on in a dark room and as Jools and I had chatted about it, I knew I had to try living as a woman to explore this more.

This was an embellishment of the truth, but I knew that if I was going to proceed down this line, I had to be convincing. Jools and I hadn't talked about this. I think Jools felt that this all had to come from me. In a sense, I knew that what I had said was true, but I don't think I really realised this until more recently.

Dr. Carson nodded and had been taking some notes, "Well Cara, I think I can understand what you have been telling me. You certainly seem to have thought about what you are doing and seem to be sure about this path you have started on. And whilst it has been a relatively short time that you have been exploring this, I have to say that as I look and listen to you I have little doubt that you are correct. May I perform a brief physical examination?"

I nodded and she led me to a couch, she handed me a blue gown and asked me to remove all my clothes and cover myself with the gown. She pulled a curtain around me and gave me a few moments. I made myself comfortable on the couch and she came back round the curtain and began. She took a lot of basic measurements first: temperature, pulse, blood pressure and weight. She then listened to my heart and lungs. She seemed a little taken aback as she looked at my developing breasts (I had removed the breast forms when I got changed).

"Well, things have been changing here! Are you sure you only took the prescribed dose of hormones and no other hormones?"

"Yes, I had the booster shot and then one tablet a day for about the last four weeks. They just finished this morning."

She raised her eyebrows, "You do seem sensitive to the effects. Usually I would not expect this degree of feminisation after this short a period of time." She paused and looked at me with some concern, "When I gave the hormones to Julie, reluctantly I must admit and due to her persuasion, I at least took some comfort in the fact of there being little significant change and none that would be irreversible. However, you have progressed somewhat beyond that. How does that make you feel?"

I could sense she was worried about how I would react. I answered truthfully, "Dr. Carson, I'm quite happy with the changes for the most part."

"Go on," she encouraged.

I swallowed and figured I had better be truthful, "Well I'm happy with the changes so far and I was surprised by the development in my breasts, but I guess it just sort of made me wish for more changes."

Dr. Carson looked a little relieved and smiled. "I see. Now do you mind if I examine you down below?"

I shook my head and she gently lifted my gown and donning a pair of gloves inspected my groin and privates. It took a bit of self-control to prevent me from embarrassing myself but I managed it. She replaced the gown and nodded. "Awkward questions time," she smiled ruefully, "Do you still get erections? And sorry to have to ask, but can you still climax?"

I think I blushed a little, "Erm, yes and yes."

She nodded, "OK. Well there seems to have been a little atrophy there, but not very significant. If you want to get dressed and come on out and take a seat again, we'll talk about the future."

I dressed quickly and took my seat again. She set her pen down and looked closely at me again. She smiled, "You know, if I hadn't seen what I've just seen behind the curtain, I have to say, I don't think I'd believe the truth. How does that make you feel?"

I laughed nervously and shrugged, "Well I don't know -- pleased. Happy I guess." I paused, "I really like the way I look, it has been amazing and surprising to me, but to be sort of attractive and to look the way I do...I guess it should disturb me, but it doesn't really. Not now."

Dr. Carson arched an eyebrow, "You think you look sort of attractive?"

I blushed, "Oh I'm sorry. I'm being immodest...well I meant to look like a woman I guess."

Dr. Carson laughed, "Cara my dear, I didn't mean that you weren't attractive, what I meant was that you were kind of totally understating the truth."

I blushed further but smiled and softly said, "Oh I see...thanks."

"Now let's think about a few things. One: do you envisage yourself returning to your male identity?"

There it was. The question was posed. It almost seemed to hang there in the air before me. I paused, not because I didn't know how to answer or what the answer would be, but more because I knew the significance of my answer. "No," I simply replied.

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

"Absolutely," I affirmed.

She nodded, "Alright. Two: do you want to continue with feminisation or are you happy at how things are at present?"

Again I knew my answer, "I want to continue."

"Three: have you thought about how you want to continue?"

"Well, I sort of presumed that I would take more hormones?"

Dr. Carson nodded, "Yes that is certainly part of what I was thinking about, but I want to raise a few other specific items. Firstly, have you considered breast augmentation surgery?" She paused and then added, "As in breast implants you know."

I felt my mouth grow dry. I had thought about it a few times over the last week or so. I wasn't sure if it would have been a possibility, but I had certainly given it some consideration. I hadn't mentioned this to Jools or Beth though. "Well, yes I have thought about it."

"And?" she asked gently.

I swallowed, "I have thought quite a lot about it recently and...," I paused and then with a sort of inward 'what the hell' continued, "and to be honest, I really want my own breasts." There I said it. I had been skirting around the issue in my mind, but I knew this was the truth.

She nodded, "And would you want to go through such surgery?"

"Do you think it would be possible in my case?"

Dr. Carson smiled kindly, "Yes I do. You have shown a remarkable response to the hormones so far and will likely continue to show further response. If you wanted to proceed I would recommend that I see you in another month and reassess you then and if you still wanted to go ahead, I would refer you to an excellent surgeon."

I nodded, "That sounds good."

She grimaced slightly, "Now I'm afraid, he's not cheap."

I shook my head, "That's not a problem. But to be honest, I have to say that discretion and personal privacy is one of my highest priorities. I don't know what Jools has told you, but I am pursuing a career that may lead to me being in the public spotlight."

She nodded, "This surgeon has operated on many high profile individuals. He does an operating list in Belgium once a month at a discreet private clinic so privacy shouldn't be a problem." She paused again, "From the breast forms you wear, I see you have gone for a large bust size, D cup would I be right?" I nodded and she went on, "Would that be the size you would be aiming for?"

I shrugged and felt very embarrassed, "Well I suppose, I don't know. I guess I quite like that size."

She nodded, "To be honest, I think it suits you very well. For your height and figure it is not out of proportion at all and assuming you have some more development in response to the hormones, I don't think it would be a problem. Now let me move on to the second other item to consider." She paused again and I knew what it was going to be before she spoke, "Have you thought about gender reassignment surgery? Do you know what that is?"

My throat was really dry now. "Yes I know what that is. I have had an occasional thought about it, but I haven't given it serious consideration. I just don't know what I think about that right now and don't even know if I want to give it much thought at the moment. Sorry."

"No don't apologise at all. I'd rather you were measured and considered in your approach. I just wanted to know. I will not ask you any further about this matter but feel free to bring it up with me at any time in future."

I nodded, "Thanks."

She smiled, "Well nearly done now. Hormones. I'm assuming you want to continue on them. My suggestion would be another intramuscular depot injection today supplemented with a slightly higher dose of tablets each day. How do you feel about that?"

I nodded, "I'd like that."

Once again I found myself up on the couch, this time lying face down and my skirt raised. Dr. Carson gently pulled my panties to one side and I felt the sharp sting of the needle in my buttock followed by the dull ache of the injection. When I had got myself together again, she handed me a little white bag with a bottle of tablets in it, "Take one a day. It's another month's supply and I want to see you at the end of the month if that's OK. Also I'd like to take a blood sample before you go to check your body's own hormone profile."

One blood sample later, I was ready to go. I thanked Dr. Carson for her help and went out to the waiting area again. I made an appointment with the receptionist for another month and then headed out with Jools.

"Well?" she asked, "How did it go?"

"Dr. Carson is really nice," I replied.

"I know that," she said with amusement, "So what happened?"

I shrugged, "She asked me loads of questions and seemed happy with what I told her. I got another hormone shot, more tablets, a blood test and an appointment in another month." I decided not to tell her about the other discussions regarding breast and gender reassignment surgery. Some things are still private no matter how much we had been through together. Jools didn't push it any further and as it was now mid afternoon, we hailed a cab and headed back to Jools' apartment.
 

*          *          *
 
Back at Jools' place I began to pack for my trip home for Christmas. It felt sort of unreal, but I knew that this evening I was going to have to face my sister and tomorrow, Christmas Eve, face my parents. I still wasn't quite sure what I was going to say. Although I feared my parents' reaction more, I wasn't quite sure how well my sister would take it either. She was quite conservative. It was the way we were brought up.

Heaven knows, I actually was quite conservative. Except for turning into a woman that is. I didn't drink to excess, didn't smoke, didn't do drugs. I had only ever had one sexual partner, Jools, and I even had felt a little guilty about that at the time. My parents didn't know about that for sure. They had suspected and had even asked, but I hadn't told them.

I thought long and hard about what way would be best to meet my sister. I was going to stay at her house in Bristol. She assumed I was driving up. But as Jools and I had discussed, that was out of the question. The chance of getting stopped by the police was slight, but if I did and all I had was Nick Evans' driving licence, the cat would be out of the bag. In fact, we had decided to sell my car. To cover the trail, I had signed the car over to Jools and she was going to sell it.

We hadn't figured out what to do about my ID and we were both going to give it some thought over the holiday period. So Jools was going to leave me to the National Express bus station and I would get the 2 hour express bus leaving at 6:30pm. I was then planning on a short taxi ride to my sister Claire's house. How would it be best to look for the initial meeting?

Although it might be easier to actually appear as Nick, both Jools and I knew that would not be possible. And I decided that, even were it possible, it would not be the best thing. I would be tempted to wimp out and not tell Claire or my parents. I knew I had to though. I also decided that turning up as the sex kitten was not the best idea too. A compromise was called for.

I removed the corset and breast forms and put on an A-cup bra that Jools had dug out of the deepest recesses of her wardrobe. I dressed in a white polo neck top, my slim fitting jeans and brown boots. I removed my earrings and brushed my hair back into a simple ponytail. I removed the bright red nail varnish and coated the red-brown nails with a light pink more flesh-like colour of varnish. I removed the heavy makeup from earlier and decided to forgo wearing any makeup at all. I removed the rest of my jewellery and then checked out my appearance in the mirror.

Still girl. Despite it all, I didn't really even look androgynous. My skin was too soft, my hair was too shiny and glossy and my figure still said 'woman'. I had a small but noticeable bust line, a narrow waist and slim long legs. With my long nails, my hands still looked slender and feminine. Plus after the last 4 weeks, all my mannerisms and gestures were feminine and to speak in a voice resembling 'Nick's' voice took all my concentration.

"Cara?" Jools interrupted my thoughts.

"Mmm?" I said still looking at my reflection.

"Do you think it is a good idea to remove your breast forms?"

"Why? It's not as if I don't look like a woman without them."

"I know, but well, I was just thinking, if you are going to run with the larger bust line, will it not be strange if people meet you over Christmas as you are now and then in future meet you with your swollen assets?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "I know what you mean. I hadn't planned on not wearing them really. But I need to soften the blow for Claire at least."

Jools wrinkled her nose, "And you don't need to soften the blow for your parents?"

I nodded, "I do. But I'm hoping that Claire will go ahead of me to forewarn them."

That seemed to satisfy her. I packed my things. I didn't travel as light as I once had. Clothes, cosmetics, jewellery and hairdryer -- I had soon filled a medium sized case and I was only going to be away for about 10 days. Stretching out in front of me it seemed like a life sentence and I had a certain feeling of apprehension mixed with doom. I had packed the more conservative side of my wardrobe with mostly longer skirts. But I packed some of the shorter stuff too as I figured I was going to have to try and gradually introduce my family to the person I had become.

It was time to go. My feet were leaden as I put my case in the boot of Jools' car beside hers. After dropping me off she was planning to head on down to Silsbury Manor for the holidays. How I longed to tell her to drive past the bus station and take me with her, but I knew this was something I was going to have to do.

At the bus station, I paused before getting out of the car. Jools reached over and gave me a bear hug. She held on to me tightly and whispered in my ear, "I'll be thinking about you Cara. Make sure and phone me any time you want to talk. Love you."

I murmured back, "Thanks, love you too." I eventually got out of the car and carried my case to the ticket desk.

"Where to love?" the clerk asked.

"Single express to Bristol please."

"There you go, twelve pounds fifty."

I took my ticket and found the right bus. The driver loaded my case and I climbed on and found a seat by myself. The bus was half empty and I had plenty of time to think about what I might say and how things might go. It seemed that every mile that brought me closer to Bristol made my heart speed up and I felt a growing sense of nausea. I had to fight the seemingly irresistible urge to stand up and shout to the driver to stop and let me off. Which wouldn't have been the best idea given that we were halfway down the M4.
 

*          *          *
 
The taxi driver dropped me off a few houses down from my sister's townhouse at my request. I stood there on the pavement for a few minutes breathing in the chill night air. The sky was clear and the pinprick stars were winking at me. With a resolute sigh, I picked up my suitcase and walked the hundred yards to Claire's house. I climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. I felt more nervous than I think I had ever felt in my whole life. Meeting the folks at Sony and meeting Dr. Carson paled into insignificance compared to how I felt at that moment.

I caught my reflection in the glass pane beside the front door. I sighed again. I didn't resemble my former self much. A pretty girl, tired looking, but pretty stared back at me. The door opened and my sister Claire smiled curiously at me, "Hello?"

She didn't seem to recognise me. I tried to find some words to say but nothing came. I just stood there looking at her as I chewed my lower lip.

She looked puzzled, "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

I forced a smile, "Hello sis."

She leaned forward looked at me closely and wrinkled her brow, "I beg your pardon..." She cut off abruptly and, with a sharp intake of breath, her hand flew to her mouth, "Oh my god! Nick?"

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 9
 
 
I stood there for a moment not knowing what to say. Eventually I found my voice and spoke softly, "Yes Claire, it's me."

She looked puzzled, amazed, disconcerted, incredulous and various combinations of the above. "But what...? I mean you look... you sound... What's going on?"

I smiled, "Can I come in Claire?"

She half-frowned but then nodded, "Of course, come in and tell me what in heaven's name this is all about."

I set my suitcase down in her hallway, slipped off my coat hung it on a hook and made my way into her sitting room and plonked my tired body down on a comfy chair. Claire sat down opposite me but looked far from comfortable. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped together.

I took a deep breath, "Claire, I know this must look and sound strange to you." The raised eyebrow look she gave me confirmed this as a major understatement. I continued, "This isn't easy for me either. But as you can see, there have been some fairly major changes in my life recently. I mean, what do you think when you look at me?"

She looked at me without speaking for a moment and then replied slowly, "I see my brother looking and talking like a woman. What is going on Nick?"

I nodded slowly, "I don't know how to say this, but I think from what you see you can work out what I'm doing. I know this is hard for you to take in and I'm really sorry for springing it on you like this. I couldn't think of any other way to do it though."

She slowly shook her head and raised a hand to her eyes and rubbed them slowly, before fixing me in her gaze, "You're living as a woman." It was a statement. She shook her head again and spoke intently her voice rising in intensity, "You couldn't think of any other way of doing it? Nick, for heaven's sake didn't you think of talking to me? Didn't you think of mentioning this? Discussing it? I'm your sister. We don't live a million miles away, we do have telephones."

I shrugged awkwardly, "I know. You may be right, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about this on the phone." I paused for a moment, "If I had discussed this with you, what would you have said?"

She looked at me thoughtfully and spoke with honesty, "I'd probably have told you to catch yourself on and to think about what you were doing. I mean are you throwing your whole life away? On what? A whim? A fantasy? Nick I don't know why you are doing this."

I couldn't help but give an ironic little smile and my reply came with a little more forcefulness than I had intended, "Throwing my whole life away? And tell me what was so good about my life? What would you miss? What would I miss? Being a failure? Being the only one in the family not earning an honest living? Being a macho stud? Perhaps you didn't realise it Claire, but I didn't have much of a life. My life sucked!"

She came right back at me sardonically, "And what now? Are you happy? Does this make you feel whole or something?"

I paused. I nodded slowly and again spoke softly, "Yes. Yes Claire it does. You have no idea how I feel now. I know it sounds corny but it's as if someone has flipped the lights on. This is me. This is who I am. I wasn't sure at the start, but for a long time I've known I was looking for something more in life. I thought it was just waiting for my big break to come or something like that. But I've now realised even that would have been selling myself short. I can't pretend to fully understand, I don't expect you to understand at all really." I paused, "All I can hope for is that you will accept me and not turn me away."

Claire sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked away for a moment before turning back to me, "You're right. I don't understand and honestly I'm not sure I want to." She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going to turn you away, you're still my brother."

I don't think she realised what she just said until I gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow. She couldn't help it and she smiled and then stopped herself, "Nick! You know what I meant. You see how complicated this is? I mean have you thought of what others will think...oh goodness - Mum and Dad! What are they going to say? Have they any idea?"

I winced, "No, they have no idea. What do you think they will say?"

Claire shook her head and looked at me knowingly, "They're gonna flip."

I nodded and looked at the floor and murmured softly, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Claire continued softly, "It's not that they won't love you or something like that. But they're going to take something like this very hard. They'll think it's their fault - it'll hurt them, they'll think perhaps it reflects on how they brought you up or something."

I looked up and nodded, "I don't mean to hurt anyone Claire. But try and understand, I now realise that each day I was dying inside. I had no idea who I was or what I was doing. Life was drab, empty and pretty miserable. I didn't like who I was. Things are so different now. All that has changed. You wouldn't understand. You've always been so focussed and successful all the way."

Claire nodded, "It's not as if I don't have any problems Nick. You're not the only one who has ever had difficulties."

I raised my hands, "OK, I didn't mean it like that. But I'm just trying to make you see something of why I'm doing what I'm doing."

"That's fine, but I'm just trying to think out what the implications of your actions will be. Have you thought through the consequences? I mean what are you going to do for a living?"

I sighed, "Believe me, I've thought long and hard about what I'm doing. I've thought about the consequences. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought about you and Mum and Dad. But I have to do this."

"And a job?" she prompted.

I grinned, "I've got on OK so far without a proper job."

She wouldn't be deflected, "Yes but you were telling me how miserable that was. Seriously have you thought about it?"

"Yes Claire, I've thought about it. I have a few plans, a few options. I'll see what works out." For some reason I didn't want to tell her about the recording contract just yet. I felt that she had to accept who I was first before I was prepared to tell her what I was going to do. It would be too much all at once.

It seemed to put her off that track, but she moved on, "Well what do other people think?"

I hesitated, "Well not that many people know."

She wrinkled her brow, "What do you mean? I doubt people could fail to notice the change in your appearance. Heavens above, I'm your sister and I could barely recognise you at first."

I shrugged, "I haven't told many people. Only a few people know."

Claire was not being put off this time, "Who?"

"Julie, her sister. My doctor."

Claire repeated, "Your doctor." She paused and made the connection, "You're taking hormones." A statement.

I gave her a weak smile. She shook her head slowly again and rubbed her eyes. She looked at me thoughtfully and spoke in a measured tone, "You're completely serious about this aren't you?"

I nodded and in an even tone replied, "Totally Claire. More serious about this than I have been about almost anything in my life."

"There's nothing I can say or do that is going to make you reconsider this is there?" I shook my head and she continued, "I guess that must be the case if you are thinking of telling Mum and Dad all this. But seriously, how come no-one else has noticed?"

I sighed, "You don't give up do you? For the last four weeks I have been down in Devon at Julie's family home. That's why no one else is really aware of it. That's where I well sort of changed to what you see now. This is sort of a secret, in that I don't want it being broadcast."

Claire rolled her eyes again, and half-sarcastically asked, "What you're going to start some new life or something and hope no one realises?"

I nodded, and softly said, "Yes something like that."

She gave a hollow laugh, "Oh come on Nick, how are you going to do that? Why? I mean why not be open about it?"

I sighed, "Look Claire, trust me on this. I've got it in hand. I'll explain more tomorrow. I'm sure I've given you enough to take in tonight already."

"You can say that again. So what part did Julie play in all this?"

I shrugged, "She's been a good help, a support."

Claire nodded and looked a little sceptical, "This isn't some sort of joke? Some sort of bet or dare or something stupid like that."

I was getting weary, I inclined my head and looked at Claire, "You might think I'm crazy with all this, but I am not stupid."

She nodded and raised her hands, "OK OK, I'm sorry. Just checking."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was too tired to try to think of anything else to say and just waited for her to speak again. Claire looked deep in thought and after a while she looked at me again. "What do you call yourself?"

I didn't quite know what she meant. Did she mean my name? Or was she talking about the terminology of what I was becoming? I didn't know how to answer the latter myself so I went with the former, "Umm, Cara Malone."

She wrinkled her forehead, "Cara Malone? Where did you get that from? Why on earth make up a totally new name?" My sister Claire wasn't stupid, far from it and after a brief pause she fixed me in her gaze, "Alright Nick or Cara or whatever you want to call yourself, what is going on here?"

I tried to act confused, "What do you mean? I've explained already."

She shook her head, "No. There's more. OK, so you want to be a woman - we've covered that ground. But there's something else - you are keeping this a secret, you have hardly told anyone and you've totally changed your name. Are you in some kind of trouble or something?"

I sighed. Even in our younger days I was never able to keep a secret from Claire. She was too clever and shrewd. She got the brains and I got the artistic talent I always reckoned. Claire had a little musical ability, but that was about the only area where I knew I surpassed my sister. "OK," I began slowly, "You're right. There is more to it. I'm not in trouble though. It all relates to what I'm going to do from here on." I paused. If I was going to have to tell her, I was at least going to keep her in suspense for a few moments more. It worked.

"Oh for goodness sake Nick, out with it!" she said impatiently.

I grinned, "OK. Well let's just say I've sort of got a record deal."

She blinked a few times and her expression clouded as she processed the information. She frowned a little and then began to think aloud, "You have a record deal. As a woman. So you don't want people to know you are really Nick Evans. Scandal, not good for business - well for an unknown anyway. So the secrecy and the name change." She nodded to herself satisfied that she now had the full story. She slowly shook her head, "OK, granted you look like a woman and talk like a woman - but how on earth are you going to manage to sing as a woman?"

I smiled at her, put my finger to my lips to silence her. Claire had a cheap electric piano in her living room. She liked to tinkle and potter around on it for relaxation. I went over to it and switched it on. After a few quick chords to get the feel I started into "Nine years old again." I gave her a good rousing performance and when I finished I saw the same wide-eyed stare on her face that I had seen with both Jools and Beth when they first heard 'Cara' perform. I said nothing, but got up from the piano stool and sat back down on the chair. I smiled and raised an eyebrow at her.

She exhaled slowly, "Heavens above! Alright, well I guess that answers that question. Gee, well I can see how you've finally got the big one. No offence, but anything I've ever heard you do before doesn't compare to that."

I nodded and shrugged, "I know."

I could see the cogs of her mind turning again, she began slowly, "Alright - one more question - so what came first: the record deal as Cara or wanting to live your life as Cara?"

Damn, but she was good. I steeled myself and prepared to try and fudge this issue. I was going to have to be convincing to pull the wool over her eyes. I nodded and sighed, "You think I'd change my sex, live as a woman, face you and the rest of the family just to get a record deal?" I stared hard at her.

She sat back a little and her posture became a little defensive, "Look Nick...Cara...I'm sorry, but I just want to be sure of what you are doing." She paused, "You didn't answer my question..."

I nodded and with a quiet intensity replied, "I'm not going to answer a question like that. But let me say this, and perhaps this will put such a crazy notion out of your mind: if you gave me the choice of being Nick and having the most successful music career in the history of rock and roll, or the choice of being Cara and never having one ounce of success - then I choose Cara." I inclined my head somewhat defiantly and looked her in the eyes. She nodded. I had got away with it. And the reason was that what I had just said was the complete truth. I did mean it. But I only realised this now. I had a new perspective.

"I'm sorry Nick...Cara....oh for goodness sake this is ridiculous," she said with exasperation.

"What is?" I asked puzzledly.

She shook her head, "I know why you've changed your name and all that, but there is no way that you can expect us, your family, to suddenly change what we call you. I mean OK so maybe you are going to be some big hotshot star with a new stage name, lots of stars do it - but they still all have real names and I bet Elton John's mother still calls him Reg!"

"Umm, I think his mother's dead Claire."

"Oh don't be facetious - you know what I mean."

I nodded, "Yes OK, I get your point. Well what do you suggest?"

She shrugged, "I think we should call you Nic."

I blinked, "Huh? But that's like my name anyway?"

She sighed, "Nic, n-i-c, short for Nicola. It's close enough to remember. Even Cara Malone had to be someone normal when she wasn't famous," there was a touch of irony in her voice, "and before she was a big star she was plain old Nicola Evans."

I chewed my lower lip and thought about it. It did make sense. "OK, well that could work I guess. And I think it would probably be easier on Mum and Dad rather than me telling them I have changed my name to Cara Malone."

Claire snorted with laughter, "Oh it'll make all the difference. You're changing to live as a woman, but as long as you call yourself Nicola they'll totally understand."

I think she spotted the pained look on my face and her expression softened, "Nic-ola, I'm sorry. It seemed funny but I guess it's not. No you are right, it will be one less thing for them to come to terms with."

I nodded to myself, "Alright. I'm Nicola Evans then for the time being. But I'm going to have to tell Mum and Dad what I'm planning to do."

Claire nodded, "Yes but this way you can do it a little more gently." She paused, "Heck, didn't you think of making yourself look a little less female before coming to see me. It might have made things easier on me Nic..ola."

I laughed. Claire looked puzzled, "Did I say something funny?"

I grinned, "Claire. That's exactly what I did."

"What? Well you didn't try too hard from what I can see."

I raised an eyebrow and sat up straight, "This was the best I could do. You should see me in all my finery!"

Now Claire was the one to raise an eyebrow, "Is that so? Well then, less talk and more action. If you're such a diva, let's see you in all this so-called finery."

I groaned, "Claire it's past eleven and I'm bushed, can't you wait 'til tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No way bro....sister. Put up or shut up time."

I nodded, "Alright then. But don't say I didn't warn you. You may be shocked."

She smiled, "Do your worst."
 

*          *          *
 
I had taken my case to the spare room and undressed. I was determined to make her eat her words and I was going to give it my all despite my tiredness. I had pulled my corset on tight and slipped my breast forms into the cups of it. Putting on a stretchy black top and my black and white check miniskirt, sheer black stockings and my knee-high black leather boots made me feel strangely more comfortable. I applied my foundation, quick coat of mascara, a dab of eye shadow and rouge and a light coat of lipstick. I released my hair from its ponytail and brushed it out and added some hairspray for extra body. I removed the light flesh-pink nail varnish that had covered the deep red-brown nails underneath. I slipped on a necklace, bracelet and my rings. I popped my hoop earrings into the lower holes in my earlobes and simple studs into the upper holes. I looked in the mirror at my appearance and smiled. It was me again.

I tentatively opened the door and called down the stairs, "Are you ready Claire?"

She called back, "Anytime."

I slowly walked down the stairs and into the sitting room. She was slouched in the same chair but when she saw me she jumped to her feet and her mouth did that O-shaped fish impression thing. I put a hand on my hip, raised an eyebrow and gave her my best pout. I saw her go visibly pale and for a moment I worried that I had gone too far and that she would faint or something. But Claire was made of stronger stuff than that. She just looked at me and said nothing.

I felt uncomfortable, "Umm Claire, aren't you going to say anything?"

She took a deep breath and sat down in her chair again. I sat down opposite her, being careful to smooth my skirt underneath me. She noticed. I looked at her with concern, "Are you OK?"

She nodded slowly and croaked, "Yes." She nodded more resolutely, "Yes I'm fine. I'm just a little taken aback. I didn't expect you to be so... so..." Her voice trailed off.

"So?" I prompted.

She gave me a wan smile, "So beautiful." We sat in silence for a moment again before she continued, "I can't believe it. I really can't. I see what you mean now about having made an effort to soften the blow for me." She shook her head and grimaced.

"What's wrong Claire?"

"You! It's not good for my self esteem when my brother is prettier than I am!"

We both laughed and as we were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, we decided it was time for bed. I didn't think that somehow Claire totally accepted everything but there was something different now in her attitude to me. I think that having seen me fully as Cara she now understood, if not everything, at least a whole lot more than she had earlier.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, although I was tired from the previous day's stress and hadn't got into bed 'til after midnight, I woke early at around 7:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. After ten minutes of lying in bed I decided to give up and got up. I guess it must have been habit, but I had this urge to go for a run. Beth would have been proud of me. I changed into my tracksuit, pulled my hair into a scrunchie and quietly let myself out of the house. It was a dull grey morning and it had been raining overnight. It threatened further rain and there were a few spittles of moisture in the air. It was Christmas Eve and all seemed quiet. I drew in a few lungfuls of the clear air and, after stretching and limbering up, set off for a brisk run. I didn't really know the area but after running down a few streets I came across a park. It was more of a recreation area but it was green, there were trees and an artificial lake. I ran a few circuits of the park and when my lungs started to burn, I turned and headed back to Claire's house hoping that I could remember the way. I could and did. On the way I called in at a home bakery that was just opening and bought some fresh croissants. Back at Claire's, I slipped into the house and all was still quiet. Claire didn't have to go to work today and showed no sign of getting up yet.

I hit the shower and revelled in the warm jets of water as they beat my body and massaged my pleasantly aching muscles. I was quite amazed at how good exercise actually made me feel. I felt healthy and more energised and resolved to keep it up now that I was away from Beth's persistent influence. After towelling and moisturising, I went back to my bedroom and sat on the bed as I tried to decide what to wear. I was going to see my parents today. My stomach churned.

I had decided that I was going as Cara, well Nicola and as my full feminine self. I wanted them to be in no doubt as to what I was doing and how well I was going to do it. I slipped on my gaff and panties and then wrapped my corset around me before pulling it in tighter and tighter. I popped the breast forms into the cups. I was going to be decent, but I wasn't going to hide who I had become. I eventually decided on a simple white blouse, a long narrow black pencil skirt which came down to mid calf, black pantyhose and my black suede boots. I applied a light coating of foundation and some subtle eye shadow, mascara, rouge and reddish-brown lipstick. I went with the hoops and studs in my ears again.

Although there was still no sound of any stirring from the direction of Claire's room, I had to dry my hair. After blow drying it and giving it some style, I was ready. I could now hear the sounds of movement from Claire's room so I decided to go downstairs and get breakfast under way. I had some porridge cooking in the microwave, some croissants heating under the grill and a fresh pot of coffee percolating. Claire came into the kitchen in her dressing gown and yawned.

"What time is it?" she murmured as she rubbed her eyes.

"Breakfast time," I said brightly, "which is about quarter to nine."

She looked at me and snorted, "You know I don't believe this. If I remember correctly, you rarely surface before lunchtime and look like you've been dragged through a hedge. You don't eat properly and don't look after yourself. But here you are looking fresh and beautiful, up early and cooking breakfast." She broke off and sniffed the air, "Do I smell croissants?"

I grinned, "Fresh from the bakery. I called in on the way back from my run."

"Your run?" she said incredulously. She shook her head, "You have totally changed haven't you?" She sat down at the table and I served us coffee, porridge and laid the plate of warm croissants down in the middle.

I grinned and winked, "I'm a new person."

She laughed and mused, "You know, I think you really are. Don't get me wrong. If I had my choice I'd have my brother Nick back here. I was sort of quite fond of him - probably since I'd known him for so many years." She looked at me seriously.

I paused with the spoon of porridge halfway to my mouth. "Claire," I said in a pained tone, "I'm still here. Yes I'm different, but what's inside is still the same person."

She raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps. But this is going to take some getting used to. I don't know what it is like to have a sister. This is weird Nicola."

I shrugged, "I know. It's weird even to me, but I know it's right. Doesn't mean I'm not adjusting too though."

We ate most of the rest of breakfast in silence. Not a particularly awkward or tense silence. Just peaceful. I sensed that there was something else eating Claire. She knew me well and I knew her well too and could tell when something was bothering her.

"OK, out with it, what's on your mind?"

Claire looked at me guiltily, "Look I know it's none of my business really, but I can't help wondering just how far you are going to go with this."

I had a right idea, but I asked anyway, "What do you mean?"

She looked really uncomfortable, "Well I was just wondering like, had you any plans for well...you know...surgery?"

I grinned, "Do you mean have I thought about getting my dick cut off?"

Claire looked shocked, which was the response I was fishing for, "Nic...ola!!"

I shrugged, "Well isn't that what you were asking?"

She blushed, "Well, perhaps...I guess. But not in those sorts of terms - word of advice, don't talk like that with Mum and Dad."

I nodded, "I know, I wouldn't. To answer your question, I haven't really given it much thought. Surgery is sort of scary. I'll address that maybe someday, but not now."

We refilled our coffee cups and carried them through to the sitting room and made ourselves comfortable. Claire still looked preoccupied, "Another thing Nicola?"

"Yes?"

"Well, what way are you...I mean, are you attracted to women or men?"

I paused and nodded. It was a fair question. I just wished I really knew the answer. I thought for a moment, "To be honest, Claire I don't really know. I'm sort of mixed up in that regard. Let me be clear, I was not gay, I didn't have any attraction to or thoughts of men before all this. I still find women attractive. I'm just not sure about how I feel about guys." My voice tailed off and I looked out the window. I was thinking about Paul.

She nodded and prompted softly, "Well why don't you tell me about him then?"

I snapped my gaze back to her. "Hey look - get out of my mind would you?" I forced a smile and tried to make a joke of it. As usual, she would not be deterred.

"Well come on, tell me," she persisted.

I sighed and over the next hour or so related the happenings of the last four weeks or so to her. I started from the beginning and worked my way through it telling her about almost everything that had taken place. I figured it was time to come clean and I should be open and honest with her. I needed all the friends I could get. I told her about Paul, the dancing, how I had enjoyed it. I told her about my confusion, him kissing me, meeting his parents and all. She was enthralled and drank in every word. Extremely unusually for Claire, she rarely interrupted but just let me tell the story. I told her about the meeting with Sony and going to see Dr. Carson. One thing I didn't tell her was the discussion I had had with Dr. Carson about getting breast implants. I wasn't ready to share that yet.

"Well, there we are," I said with a deep breath, "I guess that brings you up to speed."

Claire raised her eyebrows, "Quite a story. Are you planning on telling Mum and Dad all this?"

"No!" I replied emphatically, "Well not all of it. Not Paul, not the dancing. I'll tell them about Sony and the doctor after a day or two. Not at the start."

Claire nodded, and stretched, "Well, I think I can say I understand more. I just wish you had talked to me about it before now. Promise you won't keep me in the dark in future?"

I nodded, "I promise. I'm sorry Claire. But tell me, after all you've seen and heard now, with hindsight, had I told you about all this earlier, would you still have tried to talk me out of it?"

She screwed up her face and didn't seem to know what to say. "Umm, I don't know. I really don't. I mean I look at you now and you look so perfect, so well, so healthy and happy I guess. I don't know." She paused, "I'm still not overly thrilled about all this, but I guess I'm not totally opposed." She spread her hands, "That's all I can say right now."

I nodded and smiled, "That's more than I could have hoped for." I hesitated.

She noticed, "What is it Nicola?"

I smiled sheepishly, "When we get to Mum and Dad's today, will you....I mean would you mind..."

She interrupted and rolled her eyes, "Would I go in first and soften the blow and tell them what is going on?"

I nodded and smiled and she sighed, "Well I sort of expected it. Yes I will fill them in. But I'm not going to fight the whole battle for you. I'll give them the facts and then you'll have to face them, OK?"

"Thanks Claire. It's a real load off my mind now that you know everything."

She waved a hand at me, "Hey well what are sisters for? Now because of you I've got a hard task to face now."

I wrinkled my brow, "What's that?"

She grinned, "I've to go shower and dress and somehow try to make myself look somewhere near as good as my newfound sister."

We laughed.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 10
 
 
"Would you for goodness sake sit still and stop fidgeting," Claire chided, "you'll make me crash the car or something."

"Sorry," I apologised sheepishly, "I'm kind of nervous."

"Yeah well you're making me nervous too and I shouldn't have to feel nervous about this!"

"I know, sorry."

We were just passing Newport and were about halfway to Cardiff where my parents lived. Another 25 minutes or so and we would be there. I was more on edge than I think I had ever been in my life. I knew that this would not go well. There was no 'if' or 'maybe' about it. It would be bad. But I knew I had to face them. To be honest, I wasn't really fussed about what they would think of me. I was used to them being disappointed in me. Perhaps not openly, but I could sense it. But I was worried about the effect this would have on them. Claire was right, they would probably see it as some sort of parental failure on their part. I loved my parents to bits and was very appreciative of the way they had brought me up. Yes it had been strict, but they had taught me a high moral standard and given me a good foundation for life. I didn't think they would be able to reconcile that with what I was now doing though. Before we had left Claire's house, Claire had telephoned ahead to let them know we would be there around lunchtime. She also tried to give them a little heads up: she told them that I had something important to tell them, and that she was going to come in first to lay the foundation. Mum was extremely curious but Claire deflected her questions and said that all would be made clear later.

We pulled into my parent's street and Claire stopped the car at the end of the street. We were about 100 metres short of their house. We sat in silence for a moment. Claire looked at me and I think I must have looked exactly as I felt. Totally petrified. She smiled compassionately and reached across and gave me a hug, "Hey, this won't be easy, but we'll get through it."

I forced a smile, "I guess. Thanks Claire."

She shrugged, "Wish me luck."

I did just that and she got out and walked down to my parent's home. As I sat there, I think I felt as alone as I have ever known. I knew she would be inside by now and hugs and greetings would be over. I know Mum would have instantly started to pump her for information. Where was Nick? What was going on? What was this all about? I could only guess at how the conversation was going thereafter. The car was getting colder, but I didn't care. It helped to keep my mind focussed. After about 45 minutes I saw Claire trudge back up the street. She opened the door and plopped down into the driver's seat again. She exhaled slowly.

I looked at her expectantly and with a quaver in my voice asked, "Well?"

She shrugged, "As expected I guess. Not good."

I nodded and didn't know what else to say.

She squeezed my arm lightly, "They took it pretty bad. Dad's angry. He's not going to break things or anything. You know that's not his way, but he's stewing deep down. Mum's upset."

"Crying?" I asked.

She nodded, "A little."

I sighed. I just wanted to go, to get away from here. Anywhere but here. But I knew I had to face them. I couldn't keep running from this. "Do they want to see me?" I asked Claire.

She nodded, "Yes. They are going to try to talk you out of this. Talk some sense into you was how Dad put it."

I nodded again. "I'm not surprised. What did you tell them about what you thought?"

She shrugged, "I said I was shocked, initially felt the same as they did. But I told them that although I didn't necessarily agree with it, I could see your side of things. I tried to tell them to be open about it."

I laughed hollowly. My parents were good people, the best, but not very open to new ideas. "Well, now or never," I said with a grimace.

We got out of the car and walked slowly down the street. Claire took my hand and squeezed it tightly. I was so glad for her presence with me right now. I knew she wasn't totally sold on what I was doing, but it was a comfort to know she was trying to understand.

We arrived at the front door and let ourselves in. Mum and Dad were in the living room and I gingerly opened the door. They were sitting on the sofa facing the door. Waiting for us. Mum had red blotches on her cheeks and Dad looked downright irritable.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad," I said softly and stood in the doorway until Claire nudged me from behind. I stepped into the room a bit further. Dad looked closely at me and swallowed hard. Mum bit her lip as she took in my appearance. I stood there inside the room and looked at them as they looked back at me. No-one spoke for what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like a minute. Eventually my mother broke the silence. In a tremulous voice she said, "Nick son, come and sit down and let's talk."

I forced a little smile and sat down opposite them. Dad stared at me for a moment and then got up and began to pace up and down. This was quite familiar. I remembered him doing this when I was younger and had got into trouble. He would pace up and down keeping me sweating until he would remonstrate with me for whatever misdemeanour I had committed. He would never raise his voice excessively, his anger was always measured, but after sitting sweating while he paced up and down I was always ready to confess and apologise for anything - whether I had done it or not. I tried not to watch him and I focussed on my mother. I knew I had to say something, "Mum, I know this must come as a shock to you and I'm sorry to spring this on you like this, but I didn't think there would be any easy way to do this."

My father gave a little snort, but didn't say anything yet. His time would come. My mother looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and she was doing a seasonal impression of Rudolph the reindeer as her nose was just as red. "Nick," she said slowly shaking her head, "why?" A simple question. No simple answer.

I chewed my lower lip. "Mum, it's hard to explain. And I'm not sure you will really understand, but things just weren't right in my life. You know I was going nowhere, you know I wasn't really happy. This feels right. I feel happy." My voice gained some strength and enthusiasm, "I feel like I've got the spark back in my life, I've got direction and purpose. This is me."

My mother closed her eyes and again slowly shook her head, "Is this some kind of phase? Please tell me it's just a temporary reaction to your problems or something. We can get you some help, counselling perhaps?"

"No!" I said a little more emphatically than I had intended. My father stopped his pacing and fixed his eyes on me. "Sorry," I murmured in a more gentle tone, "But you have to understand. This is not a phase, it's not a fad, it's not a whim. Whatever else you don't or can't understand, please understand that I am perfectly serious. I have considered this fully, I have thought long and hard about this. This is not a game, a joke, whatever. This is real. This is it. This is me now. And if you can't accept me like this now, well I hope you will come to accept me because as much as I love you and I do love you dearly, I can't deny who I am. I know this must hurt you and please believe that it's the last thing I wanted and that's why I have held off from telling you this over the last few months. This is totally my choice and my decision. If you are wanting to blame someone for it, then place the blame at my door. I'm happy to accept that. This has nothing to do with anyone else, nothing to do with how I was brought up, it's no reflection on you both at all. This is me." I realised I had been monologuing for some time so I stopped and paused for breath. I smiled apologetically, "Sorry for going on, but I really had to get that off my chest. Go ahead now, whatever you want to say to me. I'm listening."

My mother shrugged, "I really don't know what to say. I just don't know why you are doing this...my only son..." Her voice broke and she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, "William, you talk to him."

My father stopped pacing and stood with his back to the mantelpiece, his hands behind his back. I sat there feeling very apprehensive and swallowed nervously. It was a moment before my father spoke. He was a man who measured his words carefully. He spoke in an even tone, "Nick, I'm not going to lie to you. I have had some disappointments in life and that's to be expected. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. But I can honestly say that I have never been as disappointed as I am right now." He paused and I felt like I had been hit in the pit of my stomach. A child always craves the approval of a parent. And probably particularly from their father. A mother's love always sweetens any disapproval that she gives. I was expecting this, but it hurt all the same.

He proceeded to give me a sermon-like monologue detailing his disappointment and disapproval. He laid out point after point of reasons why what I was doing was wrong: morally, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally and more. I had expected it, but it was so hard to listen to. He did it all without raising his voice. I think if he had raised his voice and shouted at me it would have been easier to take as I could have rationalised it as the ranting of anger. But with my father it was always even and measured, spoken out of love and that made it all the harder to take. He continued on and on, and I began to feel the emotion welling up from deep down inside me. I tried to suppress it, but I couldn't. It bubbled up, until I could contain it no longer. A solitary tear trickled down my cheek. Another followed, then another until I was weeping freely. My father stopped. He looked uncomfortable and began to pace again. "I'm sorry Dad," I murmured as I rubbed my eyes with the tissue Claire handed to me.

My mother came over to me and put her arms around me. "Nick, you know we love you and that doesn't stop no matter what you do. We care about you and are concerned about you, you know that don't you?"

I nodded and through a few teary gasps replied, "I know...I know...and I'm so sorry for hurting you." I swallowed and tried to regain my composure. I dried my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I squeezed my mother's arm. "Mum, Dad, I love you both so much. And your opinions matter a lot to me. I've always respected your advice and I've always been thankful for the upbringing you gave me. You taught me how to be a decent and respectful human being and what you have taught me will stay with me until I die. It is part of who I am. I've listened to what you have to say, but I have to tell you that I'm determined to be who I am. I'm sorry if it pains you, but I'm not going to deny myself just to please you. I don't mean that to sound harsh and maybe I am selfish. But I know who I am and to deny that would be to deny what you have taught me." I looked up at my father, "Dad you always told me to be respectful of others' opinions but to have the courage of my own convictions and to stand up for them. I'm going to have to do that now and ask you to respect my opinions and my decision. I don't mean to sound stubborn, but there is nothing you can say that will change my mind on this. I know that this doesn't mean that everything is fine and rosy, but what I want to know is - how can we move on from here?" I paused and softly repeated the words I had said several times already that afternoon, "This is me."

My father sighed and slowly walked out of the room. I heard the front door close and he walked down the front path. Claire jumped to her feet, "I'm going to go walk with him."

"Are you sure that's wise honey?" Mum asked.

Claire shrugged, "I don't know, but we have to sort ourselves out somehow." She exited and ran after him. Mum and I sat there, her arm around my shoulder. I murmured, "I'm sorry Mum."

She sighed, "Darling, in most things you take after me, but in one thing you take after your father - stubbornness. Your mind is made up on this isn't it?"

I nodded, "Yes, it is."

She nodded, "I can see that. I don't approve and I'm not sure I ever will. But you are my child and I love you. That will not change. This is your family home and no matter what anyone ever says, you will always be welcome here. I don't know how we are going to go on from here."

We sat in silence for several minutes before I spoke again, "I'm bushed Mum, can I unpack and have a bit of a rest?"

"Sure honey," she replied.

I stood, stretched and then hesitated, "And you and Dad can, well, talk when he gets back. Talk about where we go from here Mum because this is me from now on."

She looked up at me imploringly, "Won't you think about this Nick? Reconsider? Give it a little more thought?"

I shook my head, "Mum I'm sorry, I've worked my through this over the last few weeks and I'm certain about this. Think about it, do you think there is any way I'd show up here today like this if I wasn't certain?"

I think that struck a chord with her as the implication of my words sunk in. She sighed and slowly nodded, "I guess not."

I picked up my bag and headed for the door. Before I left the room, she called out, "Nick?"

I turned, "Yes?"

"Don't get me wrong honey, I'm not saying I approve. But well...you look...very pretty."

I smiled, "Thanks Mum." I left quickly before I burst into tears again. I went upstairs into my room, dumped my bag on the floor and looked at myself in the mirror. "You look a mess," I murmured to myself. I slipped my boots off and lay down on the bed. I was sure that my mind would be spinning too much to really rest. But I think I was asleep before it had completed even one revolution.
 

*          *          *
 
When I awoke, it was dark in the room and I was mildly disorientated for a few moments. I realised where I was and the events of the day came flooding back into my mind. I sat up, stretched and switched on the bedside lamp. I winced as the light hurt my sensitive sleepy eyes. I checked the bedside clock, it was a quarter to five. Closing the curtains, I sat down at the dressing table and grimaced at the clown-like makeup-streaked visage that looked back at me. I did some unpacking and set to repairing my face. When I was satisfied, and after making my hair look more presentable, I decided to go back downstairs. As much as I wanted to hide in my room and hope the world would right itself without me, I knew I had to go back for round two.

I descended the stairs slowly and heard voices coming from the kitchen. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I paused and listened. I heard my father sounding exasperated, "Honestly Esther are you saying we should accept this? I really can't believe that."

She replied, "No Bill, I'm not saying that I'm accepting it. All I'm saying is that I don't think Nick is going to change his mind no matter what we do or say. You know what he is like when he gets an idea into his head."

My sister interjected, "I think she's right Dad."

"You keep out of it miss," my father replied with irritation in his voice, "I just can't believe that my only son is walking around like a fairy."

That was it. I couldn't help myself. I strode forwards and pushed open the door a little more forcefully than I really intended. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at me. I didn't care. I looked at my father. "Walking around like a fairy? Is that what you think Dad? Well let me make myself clear in case the message didn't get across earlier. You don't have a son. So your son can't walk around like a fairy. I am a woman and if you would open your eyes and look at me surely even you would have to admit that."

He fixed his eyes on me and his infuriatingly measured tone replied, "Don't take that tone of voice with me young la....young man." We all knew what he had been about to say. It was an often heard phrase in our house in days gone by when Dad and Claire were having a confrontation over something or other. Usually the latest party or boyfriend or the like. I was thankful that the seriousness of the situation prevented me from having any desire to smirk. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Claire giving in to such desire until my mother tapped her on the hand and almost imperceptibly shook her head. I don't think my father noticed though, he was focussed totally on me as he continued, "I have a son, and that is you Nicholas James Evans. And why my son feels he has to dress up like some sissy or other is totally beyond me."

I bristled. "You do NOT have a son any longer. You have a daughter. I am Nicola..." quick thinking, "Nicola Jane Evans. I am your daughter, I am a woman. Look at me. No seriously really look at me. Do I look like a man by any stretch of the imagination?"

He looked at me long and hard. "That's exactly it. You look nothing like a man at all. A real man wouldn't be caught dead looking and acting like you are."

I paused and let the words be heard. I simply nodded and softly said, "My point exactly."

His shoulders fell a little and suddenly I realised that my father looked old. I mean yes I knew he was nearly sixty, but you never think of your parents as old. Suddenly I felt a pang of guilt, I felt remorse. Not for what I was doing, but for the difficulties it was causing my parents. Instinctively I walked over to my father and hugged him. His body tensed and I don't think he knew what to do. Eventually he just sort of patted my back gently. I broke the hug and stepped back a little. In a soft voice I apologised, "I'm sorry Dad. I really don't want to hurt you and Mum or anyone else. But I have to be true to myself. As much as you may hate me for it, I have to do this."

He looked at me with an intensity I have rarely seen and with a little tremor in his voice replied, "Don't ever ever say that. I do not and will not ever hate a child of mine no matter what they do. A parent's love is unconditional love. Nick, I know I don't often say it, but I will say this now so that there is no doubt. I love you son, and that will not change."

I nodded, "I'm sorry Dad. I shouldn't have said that."

There was an awkward pause which my ever sensitive mother stepped in to end, "Why don't you both sit down at the table here with Claire and me and I'll brew a fresh pot of tea and we can talk more."

I wanted to run, I wanted to get away, I wanted to be anywhere but here. But I knew that here was where I had to be. We had to do this. We sat with our mugs of tea and I didn't know what we were going to say. My father didn't look like he was going to add anything more for the moment and Claire was wisely keeping silent. She gently squeezed my knee under the table though. It was left to my mother to get the ball rolling again. She cleared her throat and spoke, "Alright. We have to sort some things out. Nick, I believe you are serious about what you are doing and you seem to have little intention of reconsidering. I can't claim to understand and won't pretend to like it, you know our feelings but you are an adult and we have to respect your decision. Isn't that right Bill?"

My father looked at her without speaking and she prompted, "Bill?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Yes." He didn't look at all happy though.

My mother looked back to me, "Nick I want you to accept our strong feelings on this matter and I want you to acknowledge that you understand how opposed we are to this."

I swallowed and nodded, "OK, I understand. I accept your position."

She nodded, "Now what do you want from us?"

I thought for a moment and picked my words carefully, "I want you to call me Nicola, refer to me as she and her. I want you to call me your daughter." I paused, but I knew I had to say more, "But I don't want you to talk about me as your son who is having a sex change or anything like that."

Both my parents pricked up their antennae at that one as I knew they would. My mother was now acting as spokesperson, "Why? Are you ashamed of what you are doing?"

I shook my head, "Not at all. It is complicated and I am going to leave that until tomorrow to explain. What about the other things I said?"

My mother looked at my father and he shrugged as if to say 'what the heck'. She looked back at me, "Understand, we are doing this not because we condone what you are doing or accept it in the slightest. We will call you Nicola and refer to you as you have requested out of respect for you and your choices. I am sure we are going to get it wrong without thinking at times though and you will have to accept that."

I nodded, "Thanks Mum, thanks Dad." My father wouldn't look at me.

"Now I want all of you out of my kitchen as I'm going to make some dinner for us all. And we are going to sit down to dinner as a family and enjoy it."

I doubted the latter and I'm sure my father did too. But we all knew better than to argue with my mother on this point. My father headed to his study and Claire and I went into the living room. I flopped down on the sofa and Claire sat down beside me. She flicked on the TV and we sat and watched it in silence for several minutes. 'Miracle on 34th street.' Typical Christmas mushy film where everything ended happily. Cynically and inwardly I snorted to myself.

"You OK?" Claire murmured quietly.

I nodded, "I guess."

"It's rough," she stated.

"Yes. How could it be anything other?" I paused, "Do you think the worst is over?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. Probably not, to be honest."

I nodded and sighed, "You're probably right."

We watched on in silence until my mother called us all back into the kitchen for dinner. We sat and ate and my mother conducted the conversation. She asked Claire about her job and Claire talked. Claire asked Dad about his work and he replied. I was grateful not to be the centre of attention for a little while. The conversation was sort of forced. As if we were all pretending everything was normal.

Mum and I ended up doing the washing up and Claire and Dad went back into the living room. "Nic-ola," she began tentatively.

"Yes Mum?" I replied with my arms up to my elbows in soapy suds.

"I was just wondering what you thought we should do about Boxing Day. I mean tomorrow, Christmas Day, it's just us as usual."

Boxing Day was a family tradition where Mum hosted our relatives. Mum had a brother and a sister. Uncle George was unmarried. Aunt Vera and Uncle Keith and our two cousins Phil and Dawn were coming as far as I knew. And on Dad's side there was his sister Aunt Olivia married to Uncle Edward. They had a son Ian who was living and working in Australia.

"Who all is coming?" I asked.

"Well the usual. Vera, Keith and the kids. George should be here and Olivia and Edward will be too."

I nodded, "Sounds fine."

"Erm, but, what about with, well you..." her voice trailed off.

I turned and smiled at her, "Mum, I am who I am. This is me and I guess they deserve the opportunity to meet the new me."

She looked at me unsurely and nodded slowly, "Alright dear, if you are sure."

I knew what she was thinking and spoke gently, "Mum, I know you are thinking that perhaps if you keep this under wraps for a while, I'll get over this fad or whatever and no-one will need to know. It's not like that. They need to know because this is the way it's going to be."

She sighed and nodded, "Alright Nicola. But I'm not sure how they will all react."

I wasn't sure either. Claire and I were pretty close to Phil and Dawn. They were non-identical twins and just over a year younger than me. Dawn was studying maths at Nottingham University and Phil was on an electronic engineering course at Aberystwyth University. Phil and I always got on very well. I figured they'd be shocked but probably accept it better than the 'grown ups'. George probably wouldn't care. He was a bachelor, an investment broker and if it didn't affect his portfolio, it wouldn't fuss him. My other aunts and uncles were fairly traditional and quite similar in outlook to my own parents. I imagined they would be definitely shocked, probably disapproving but more than anything glad it wasn't one of their children causing such an outrage. I didn't really care. They had to know and I was going to have to talk to them carefully about what they said about me. I sighed as I helped Mum put the last of the saucepans away. It felt like the world was resting on my shoulders. It was a far cry from the happy, free days at Silsbury Manor. Yet I knew what I was doing was right.

Mum and I went into the living room and I made my apologies about being tired and going to get an early night. Claire smiled and got up to give me a little hug. Dad barely acknowledged my departure.

I wasn't pretending. I was truly exhausted and I don't think I was ever so glad to fall into bed as I was then. In the precious few seconds before I went to sleep, I remembered back to Christmas Eve's when I was much younger and how hard it was to get to sleep with the anticipation and the excitement. It wasn't a problem this year.
 

*          *          *
 
As I had gone to bed in good time the night before, I woke around 7 a.m. feeling quite refreshed. I had a clear head and sat on the edge of the bed and felt pretty good. That is until I remembered the stress and trials of the previous day. Today was Christmas Day. Peace and goodwill to all men - except those men who are perverting nature by turning into women. I shook my head and tried to clear it of such cynicism as it was unlikely to help the situation or make the next few days any easier. I peeped through my curtains and the weather certainly seemed to match my mood. It was dark and pouring down out of the heavens. Nonetheless, I decided to brave the elements and go for a run. That's the thing about a habit: unless you come up with a good reason not to do it, it sort of comes automatically. Which is fine if it is a good habit. I pulled on my tracksuit and running shoes, scraped my hair back into a ponytail, added a baseball cap and quietly crept down the stairs to let myself out the front door.

The day outside was no better in reality compared to how it had appeared from the comfort of my cosy bedroom. The driving wind blasted the icy raindrops into my face as I set off running down the street. It was truly miserable. I loved it. It was wild and the untamed elements of nature gave me a certain feeling of freedom. I funnelled all the negative energy and feelings from the previous day into adrenaline-charged exercise. The harder the wind blew, the faster I ran. Needless to say, I had the roads to myself. There were a few lights on in the houses I ran past. No doubt young kids pulling their parents out of bed to see what Santa had left them. I sort of envied their innocence and wide-eyed awe of youth.

After about 15 minutes I turned around and now the wind was at my back. It was exhilarating. I ran faster and faster and felt like I was going to take off. I arrived back outside my parents' house and sat on the doorstep in the biting wind and rain as I gasped for breath. Although my chest felt raw and my muscles were aching from overdoing it, the post-exercise endorphin haze soon replaced the discomfort. I slipped back inside the house and thought I would get a drink of water from the kitchen before hitting the shower.

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed as I opened the kitchen door to find myself face to face with my mother. "You scared me!" I accused.

She looked equally as startled and replied, "Well you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing up so early." She noticed that I was dripping and immediately switched into concerned mother mode, "Nick...Nicola...you are soaking wet? What have you been doing? Have you been outside? Are you alright?"

I laughed and held up my hands, "I'm OK. I was just out for a run."

"A run?" she said incredulously, "You? Running? On Christmas Day? And on a morning like that? Are you ill?"

She looked at me as if she certainly thought I was deranged. I grinned and shrugged, "It's a pattern I've got into. I know I was a bit of a lazy slob before, but things are different now. I'm really quite fit."

She nodded and looked me up and down. My wet tracksuit was clinging to my figure. With a hint of a sigh she said, "Yes so I can see, you've got quite a figure."

I blushed a little and didn't quite know what to say. "Uhh thanks Mum. And why are you up so early?"

She shrugged, "Well someone has to get the turkey into the oven." She paused, "Plus I didn't sleep too well and woke very early."

I nodded and winced a little, "Sorry Mum. My fault I guess."

She waved a hand at me, "Now sit down with me for a moment and have a quick cup of tea with me before you go and get changed."

I did as she told me and was grateful for the warmth afforded by the hot cup of tea. My mother sat across the table from me and I became aware that she was staring intently at me. I met her gaze, "What is it?"

She looked away and shook her head. "Oh I don't know. You just look so different." She stopped talking and seemed to be very interested in looking at the contents of her mug.

I probed gently, "In what way different."

For a moment it was as if she hadn't heard me as she didn't reply. Then after another sip of her tea she looked at me again, "It pains me to say it, but you look really well. You look radiant. Better fed and healthier than you have appeared in a long time." She paused, "And as I said yesterday, you do look very pretty." Another hesitation and then with a kind of wistful angst, "When I look at you, it's as if I'm looking at myself 30 years ago."

I only realised it then, but she was right. My sister Claire had my father's high forehead and prominent nose and it was always said that she looked like my father. But me? I had never thought that I particularly resembled either of my parents. Now though I bore a striking resemblance to my mother. Her now greying hair had in her younger days been full-bodied, glossy black - just like mine. Facially, there would be no mistaking us for mother and daughter.

I spoke hesitantly, "I know this must be hard for you Mum."

She sighed, "I don't know what to think. When I look at you, you look so much like my daughter...but...I miss my son...my little boy."

I could see moisture gathering in her eyes. I swallowed hard to prevent myself from succumbing to a similar fate. I replied quietly, "I know. It's still strange to me. But give me a chance. You'll get used to it, no?"

She wiped her eyes and regained control, "I don't know." She smiled wanly, "Darling, your father and I were talking last night..."

I sighed and tried to interrupt, "Mum, we've been through all..."

She cut me off, "Now hear me out. We were talking and we felt that if you were intent on doing...'this', well we think you should talk to a doctor about it."

I nodded, "Mum, I have seen a doctor about it."

She look taken aback, "You have?" I nodded and she went on, "Well, what sort of doctor?"

"She's an endocrinologist who has a specialist interest in gender dysphoria."

She blinked a few times, "And well, did she talk about whether you should be doing all this or is she just accepting it all?"

"She interviewed me thoroughly. Really detailed. All about my past, my thoughts, feelings, everything."

"And?" my mother asked.

I shrugged, "She feels that the path I'm pursuing is correct."

My mother's shoulders sagged. She looked at me, "Nick...Nicola, tell me, are you on, I mean are you taking..."

I knew what she was asking, "Am I taking hormones? Yes Mum I am."

She visibly paled, "And have they had any effect?"

I nodded and replied matter-of-factly, "Yes they have."

She bit her lip and we sat in silence for a few minutes. She looked me in the eye again, "Have you, or are you...well thinking about," she screwed her face up, "...surgery?"

I ran a hand through my wet hair and sighed, "Mum I don't know yet. It might be something I think about, it probably will be. But just not yet."

She didn't look too reassured. I shivered, "I think I had better go and get showered. I'm wet and cold."

She nodded absentmindedly and remained seated there as I got up and left. As I went up the stairs I let out a long, slow breath. The day was likely to have more difficult conversations and I knew I still had to tell them about Cara Malone and her plans. But for a few moments at least, the piping hot water of the shower was a welcome distraction.
 

*          *          *
 
I had dressed in my conservative grey jacket and below-knee skirt with a simple white blouse. A little subtle make up and flat black court shoes. I thought that the others were probably up out of bed now as there was more noise about the house. I went down for breakfast and found the three of them seated around the kitchen table. Predictably the conversation stopped as soon as I entered the room. I pretended not to notice and forced myself to smile, "Morning Dad, Claire." I sat down in the remaining chair and poured myself a bowl of muesli. Claire was in her dressing gown and she looked me up and down, "You're dressed up pretty smart today. What's the occasion?"

With my spoon of cereal halfway to my mouth, I shrugged and replied, "It's Christmas Day, don't we always go to Church on Christmas Day?"

Claire raised her eyebrows and I knew what she was thinking, but she tactfully didn't say anything. She knew she didn't have to as my father found his voice.

He looked at me over his glasses, "You are planning on going to Church?"

I nodded as I munched, "Yes."

"Like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" I retorted.

He gestured to me, "Well dressed...like that."

I looked down at myself, "What's wrong with my outfit? Is it not suitable for Church?"

He looked at me through narrowed eyes, "You know what I mean."

Unfortunately for my father, I was a product of my upbringing and knew all the right phrases and lines to say. I set my spoon down, "Dad, surely you are not saying that I wouldn't be welcome at Church? Would you have them turn me away? I wouldn't have thought that you would bar anyone from coming into the house of God to worship."

My father looked away and winced a little. I knew I had him and I felt slightly guilty but I knew I had to make my point. He sighed and looked back at me, "Do you think it is appropriate for you to come into the presence of God living this lie of yours? This mockery and charade?"

I made myself look shocked, "So you are saying that liars and sinners are not welcome in Church? But Dad, you always taught us that we don't come to God in our own righteousness. Didn't the Lord come to save the sinners not the righteous? And surely although man looks on the outward appearance, God looks on the heart."

Claire couldn't resist making the comment, she giggled, "Oh and 'Man' will certainly be taking a good long look at the outward appearance."

My father shot Claire a warning glance and my mother remonstrated, "Claire, please - you are not helping."

I tried not to smile. I didn't want to appear cheeky. My father knew he was beaten, "Alright. Fine. Come to Church then. But pray tell, what are we going to say about you? What do we tell people?"

I shrugged, "I've never been to your Church before; introduce them to your daughter. I mean you've only moved to this Church a month or two ago so how many people think you have a son?"

My parents looked at each other and Mum shrugged. Dad looked like he was thinking hard before he replied, "Alright, certainly we haven't got to know anyone too well, but I'm sure we may have told some people that we have a daughter and a son."

I nodded, "I doubt they'll remember and when they meet Claire and me, they'll imagine they took you up wrong."

I knew what was coming, as my father saw his opening, "Oh so you want us to lie do you?"

I was ready for this, "Not at all. Introducing me as your daughter will be the truth. That's who I am. Truth and reality are more than genes, molecules and body organs."

There was silence for a few moments as we continued to eat our breakfast. My mother looked at my father and murmured, "Bill, what will we do?"

He grimaced, "I don't know. What choice do we have? Looking at..." he hesitated and with some resignation continued, "...looking at...her...there's no way we can say...she...is anything other than our daughter."

We all stared at my father. I sensed that this was an important moment. Almost imperceptibly something had changed. It wasn't that suddenly I was accepted or that what I was doing was welcomed. But it was more like a resignation on my father's part that this was happening. An acknowledgement of what I was doing. I didn't kid myself that things were all warm and fuzzy now. Not by a long shot. But, slow as it may be, I felt this was progress.

I smiled at my parents and softly and humbly, without any trace of anything that could be construed as gloating, simply said, "Thanks Dad, thanks Mum. I know this must be very hard for you."
 

*          *          *
 
Llandaff North Methodist Church was a 5 minute drive from my parents' home and we all travelled in their car. As we walked into the Church, we were greeted at the door, by a cheery red-faced man. "Merry Christmas Bill and Esther," he looked at Claire and me, "I presume these are your lovely daughters?"

My Dad looked a little awkward, "Uhh yes, yes they are. This is Claire, and this is...Nicola. Umm girls, this is Mervyn Stewart."

He shook our hands enthusiastically, "Pleased to meet you girls." He turned to my parents, "You have two beautiful daughters, and I guess you're delighted to have the family home for Christmas?"

My mother sensed that my father was floundering a little and stepped in, "Of course Mervyn, it wouldn't be Christmas without them." We went on in and sat down. A few other people from the Church came up and chatted to Mum and Dad and there were more introductions. I don't think my father found it easy, but I hoped that each time he called me his daughter or referred to me as Nicola, it would get a little easier.

The service was short and simple. A series of Bible readings interspersed with traditional carols. I think my mother was a little worried as the first carol started. She nudged me and whispered, "Are you sure you should sing? Can you sing, you know...as a girl?" Claire heard this also and stifled a little giggle which drew a frown from my mother. I simply smiled and assured her it would be alright. I think she was shocked when she actually heard me sing. I had always loved Christmas carols, they were uplifting, inspiring and I actually found it quite an emotional experience. One of the things I had always particularly enjoyed about Christmas carols was the descant versions. Wonderful wide-ranging harmonies. Of course, until now I was only ever able to listen to them. This time I could join in the singing of them. As I revelled in the glorious melody of the descant to 'O come all ye faithful', I became aware of my father looking at me. I glanced at him with a little uncertainty as I continued to sing. He looked puzzled, but didn't actually look disapproving at this moment. I smiled and he sort of half returned the smile before looking back to his hymn sheet.

At the end of the service we dutifully filed out of the church towards the front door where the minister shook each person's hand. It came to my parents' turn and he smiled as he shook their hands, "Bill, Esther - great to see you, have a great Christmas. And are these two young ladies with you?"

My father smiled a nervous looking smile, "Err yes, these are...my two daughters. Reverend Patterson, meet Claire and...Nicola."

He smiled and shook our hands, "Delighted to meet you Claire and Nicola." He then frowned a little and turned back to my father, "You know I have the strangest recollection that you told me you had a son and a daughter."

My heart almost stopped and I just about heard a very soft sharp intake of breath from Claire behind me. My mother seemed to stiffen a little and all of our eyes focussed on my father. He paused for a moment and frowned. My heart was in my mouth as I waited for him to reply. He shrugged and shook his head, "Well unless your eyes are deceiving you, I've got two beautiful daughters."

Reverend Patterson paused for a moment then smiled as he looked at us, "There's no denying that." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I guess I'm starting to lose it."

My father laughed a little and we all headed out to the car park. I walked alongside my father. "Thanks Dad," I murmured as I looked up at him. He looked down at me and gave a faint smile, "I just told the truth. He just didn't realise that his eyes were deceiving him."

I grinned, "Perhaps. But thanks anyway."
 

*          *          *
 
When we got home, there was a lot of bustling to get Christmas dinner ready. Normally Mum and Claire would work together to serve it whilst Dad and I chatted in the living room. This year it was different though. My mother called me into the kitchen and gave me various jobs to do. I rationalised that it was more likely she was trying to occupy me and prevent me and my father having a conversation together that would spoil our dinner, than the possibility that she was treating me more like a daughter than a son. Either way, I was happy enough to help.

Christmas dinner was actually quite enjoyable. The food was bountiful and delicious. I actually wished I had had the foresight to remove my corset before dinner as I was restricted in the amount I was able to eat. This was probably a good thing though. I had a picture of Beth in my mind waggling a finger and chiding me for trying to undo all the good work we had done together. The conversation wasn't too awkward or stilted and I actually felt comfortable enough to take part.

"The service was really moving, wasn't it?" I said.

My father nodded, "It was. Simple and straightforward - just the way I like it. The word - in scripture and in song." He paused and then looked back at me, "Where did you learn to sing like that?"

I shrugged, "Sing like what? I'm a singer remember?"

He looked at me ponderously then gently shook his head, and in a strange tone which was a mixture of reticence and something approaching pride he said, "You sounded like an angel."

An awkward pause followed and I knew I was blushing, "Umm thanks Dad."

We all chatted away over the rest of dinner and dessert. We laughed as we shared reminiscences of previous Christmases when we were young. For the first time since coming to face my parents, I actually felt glad to be home. I had been dreading these days for the last number of weeks. I realised the real meaning of the phrase that blood is thicker than water. No matter the difficulties, no matter the trials, if a family is a good family then it deals with them. I knew that it was right that I had come to face them and share with them what I was doing. I also knew that I had to tell them more.

Once the dishes were all safely stowed in the dishwasher and everything else cleared away, we sat down for the traditional 3 o'clock Queen's speech to the Commonwealth. When it was finished, we unanimously decided that we did not want to watch the umpteenth showing of 'The Great Escape' so the television was turned off. After a few moments silence, I cleared my throat and spoke, "Umm, Mum and Dad. I've a few other things to tell you..."

My father chose this moment to display one of his rare flashes of dry humour, "Oh my goodness, may the Lord preserve me, what more can he...err...she...say to make her poor father lose the rest of his already thinning hair."

We laughed, and I tried again. "Well, I think this won't be too much in comparison to what I've already laid on you."

Claire butted in, "I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything at all in the world that would be a bigger deal than what you've already hit us with."

I stuck my tongue out at her and she replied in kind. My mother sighed, "Girls! That was not the way you were brought up." She realised how reflexively she had just addressed us and looked a bit shocked at this herself.

Third time lucky, "No seriously, let me speak." I looked around and I had their undivided attention. "I wanted to fill you in on what I plan to do from here on."

My father looked puzzled, "In what regard?"

"With regards to like you know, a job."

He raised a hand to his chest, "What? A job? Esther do you hear that? I have just about got over the shock that she's turning into a woman - but getting a job? This is too much."

I sighed, "What has got into you all today? Did someone spike the apple juice at lunchtime or something? Now enough! Quiet and listen, this is important." I looked around, daring anyone to make a wisecrack. No-one did. "Well, I know you've all thought I was wasting my time with my music and you all thought I should get a 'proper job'."

My mother tried to interrupt, "No dear, it's not like..."

"Shush!" I said imperiously raising a hand before continuing, "I know what you all thought. But I don't mind. Because, I have some good news. You are looking at the latest singer/songwriter to be signed up for a record deal with Sony music."

I smiled and looked around as that sunk in. I could see my mother and father processing this. I knew what was coming. My mother spoke first, "Well, that's great dear. But tell me, who is it that has got the deal, if you know what I mean."

I nodded, "Well actually it's Cara Malone who has got the deal."

"Cara who?" my father asked.

"Cara Malone," I repeated, "That's going to be my sort of stage name if you follow me. Nicola Evans is a lovely name, but it's not got quite the right ring to it."

My mother spoke slowly, "You've got a record deal as a woman. How come? You've been trying to get a deal for years and years with no luck. Now you are a woman and suddenly you get a deal? Why?"

Claire piped up, "Show them Nicola, or Cara. I think that's the easiest way."

I nodded slowly, "Yes, you're probably right for once sister of mine."

She gave me a mock scowl which I ignored as I got up and walked over to the upright piano in the corner of the living room. As I sat down, I lifted the lid and let my hand fondly stroke the sun-faded wood. This had been the piano that I had learnt to play on as a child and anytime I played it, I was always overcome with a rush of nostalgia. It was slightly out of tune and far from having a good action, but to be honest when I played it, it felt better to me than a Steinway - well almost. I gathered myself and launched into 'I just wanna be me.'
 
 

"Feelin' the weight of others' expectations,  Pushing me down, pressing around me,  Building into disappointments,  anger and frustrations,  Why oh why can't they understand and see?      I don't wanna be somebody elses' puppet,  Don't wanna have to say yes and always agree,  You're squeezing me, smothering me  - why don't you just stop it Cos I just wanna be me.      I'm dreamin' my own dreams,  not fulfilling yours,  I'm throwing off the bonds,  I'm gonna be free,  I'm releasing my true spirit,  a spirit that endures Cos I just wanna be me."

 
 
I finished playing and swivelled round on the piano stool to face them. I felt strangely nervous. Like a child who has played their first recital and needs to seek their parents' praise. My mother raised an eyebrow, "Well I guess that answers my question. My musical tastes are quite different to yours, but I think I can appreciate the difference between what I've just heard and what I've heard in the past."

I smiled shyly and returned to my seat. I looked over at my father, "Dad? What did you think?"

He sighed and replied hesitantly, "There is no denying that you are exceptionally talented. I'm sure that the people who signed you recognised that and combining that with how you look, I imagine you are just what they are looking for."

I reckoned that was as close to open praise from my father as I was going to get right now. But I needed to tell them more, so I went on, "If you think about it, if I'm going to pursue a career as Cara Malone, it's fine if people think Cara Malone used to be Nicola Evans. It's not so good for reputation and sales if people find out Cara Malone used to be Nicholas Evans."

My mother interjected, "The people at Sony have no idea about this then."

"No," I replied, "In fact, the only people who know outside of this room are my doctor, Julie Carstairs and her sister Beth."

My father wrinkled his brow, "How on earth have you kept this a secret? It's just, as I look at you now, I doubt you've been able to hide the changes you've been going through."

Just as I had had to do with Claire, I talked them through the previous weeks and all the preparations before leaving London and then how we moved down to Silsbury Manor. I completely omitted anything about the dancing classes and Paul. I shared a knowing look with Claire and I think she understood that it was not to be mentioned as she gave me a surreptitious little nod. In the way that I told it, I skewed the emphasis though to make it seem as if I had begun my journey into womanhood before I discovered my new singing ability with the potential opportunities it offered. I did feel a twinge of guilt about this, but as I had readjusted my own priorities in my mind over the last few weeks, I rationalised my guilt away. I did my best to answer the various questions my parents asked. There was a change in the emphasis of our discussions now. Whereas yesterday things had been confrontational, today it was more of resigned acceptance and the seeking of more information. I knew that deep down they still did not approve, but at least they seemed to have stopped trying to talk me out of it.
 

*          *          *
 
"Oh my goodness!" Claire exclaimed.

"What?" said three voices in almost unison.

"I don't believe it!" she said, "With all this talking, we've forgotten the real centre of Christmas - the giving of presents."

My mother tutted disapprovingly at her, but we all knew Claire was just being facetious. She was right though. We had forgotten. So without further ado, we all got up and extracted our various presents from where we had stashed them and we reassembled in the living room. I gave mine out first. I'd bought Claire a white silk blouse and a long black cashmere cardigan. She whooped with delight, "I've often wondered what it would be like to have a sister who could buy me tasteful presents like this. Why did you never buy me things like this before?" She held the blouse up to the mirror and nodded appreciatively.

I laughed, "I guess I didn't have the appreciation of female clothing that I've recently developed. Now Mum, this is for you."

She opened her present, and murmured, "Oh darling, it's beautiful." It was a hand-crafted wooden jewellery box. "I'm very impressed," she said.

I shrugged, "To be honest, I did have help picking your presents. Jools and Beth helped me out. Now Dad, for you."

He gave me a half-smile as he took it from me. I had got him a CD of Charles Wesley's most famous Methodist hymns and a book about the history of the South Wales mining industry. Now that may not sound particularly exciting, but I knew my father and his less-than-mainstream interests well. "Thank you, thank you," he said as he looked at the book with interest. Claire gave her presents out next. She had got the latest Delia Smith cookery book for my mother and some expensive moisturiser cream. Both were well received. A shirt and tie set met with approval from my father. My turn. She grinned at me as she handed me my present. I eagerly ripped the paper off.

"Oh great - thanks Claire," I said sincerely, "excellent!" She had got me the U2 Elevation concert on DVD and the new Avril Lavigne CD. My sister knew me well. Buy music related presents and you were bound to score highly in my books. She also knew my music tastes well. I had been a huge U2 fan for several years. The Avril Lavigne CD was an inspired choice. I had been thinking of getting it as the rocky almost-punk style of the singles I had heard so far had appealed to me.

My mother gave Claire her present. It was a smart black jacket with matching skirt. "Great," said Claire, "I was needing something fresh for work, this is lovely."

As my mother handed me her present, she suddenly raised her hand to her mouth, "Oh dear."

I tentatively took the present from her and asked, "What is it?"

She sighed, "Well I've just remembered what I've bought you and to be honest, I'm not sure it's quite appropriate now. Maybe you should give it back, and I'll get you something else dear."

I was intrigued now, "Let me be the judge of that." I opened it up and inside was a casual checked shirt and a smart pair of black denim jeans. Very nice, but it was male clothing. "Ahh," I murmured, "I think I see what you mean. They are very nice though, thanks." My parents usually bought me clothes as presents. Mum was always giving off about how worn and scruffy my clothes looked. I never really spent much time or money on buying clothes. Well, I never used to until now that is.

My mother looked at me, "You're not really going to wear them are you?"

I winced and shrugged, "Well, no I don't think so."

She nodded, "I understand. Look give them back to me, I've got the receipt and I'll leave them back, I got them from Next - I'll get you a credit voucher to spend on whatever you want to buy."

I smiled apologetically, "Thanks Mum."

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 11
 
 
I woke around 8 a.m. on Boxing Day. Weather wise, this day was everything that the previous day wasn't. Clear skies, the hint of sunrise on the eastern horizon and a touch of frost on the ground. I smiled to myself as I pulled on my tracksuit. I wondered if I had really lost my marbles. The thought of going out on a frosty cold winters morning for a run was filling me with eager anticipation? Mad, totally mad. I quietly let myself out the front door and the first lungful of cold air nearly stopped me in my tracks. I limbered up and set off at a gradual pace. I didn't run as hard as I had the previous morning, but that was probably due to a different mental attitude. I felt more at peace. I was still a little uneasy around my parents and the feeling was mutual. Although the conversation the previous evening had been a little more 'normal', I still saw the disapproving looks my father gave me.

On returning and after a lovely hot shower, I padded back to my room with my towel wrapped around me. What to wear? It was the day to face the extended family. Although part of my mind told me to go for understated, the other half was saying 'what the hell show them what you've got'. I sat on the bed for a moment to decide and then shrugged and grinned to myself. I decided on a white stretchy body top, denim skirt, black hose and my knee-length black, leather boots. The skirt wasn't the shortest I owned as it came to just above my knees. I didn't overdo the make up but I made it a little more striking than I had done so far. After brushing my hair and putting on my jewellery, I stood in front of the mirror. I smiled. Definitely sexy, but not slutty. This was me.

Claire was the only one downstairs as I entered the kitchen. She was again still in her dressing gown. She took one look at me and gave a low whistle. I obliged her with a fairly sensuous twirl. "Wow," she said, "Are you sure you want to go with this look today?"

I feigned being hurt, "Why? Do I not look good?"

Claire grinned and raised an eyebrow, "Good in the moral sense or in the hot sense?"

I batted my eyelashes, "Oh the hot sense."

She nodded, "Hot you definitely are. Good? I don't think our parents will think so."

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I know. But hey, this is the way I like to dress. And if the whole family are meeting me today, they may as well meet the real me. I certainly wanted to soften the blow for you and Mum and Dad, but the rest of them? They can take their chances."

Claire looked at me closely, "Uh huh? Well, it's your show. Don't say I didn't warn you. Expect a few requests for outfit amendments from our beloved parents. Believe me I know, I still remember my teenage days and the fights I had with them over what I wanted to wear."

I remembered them too. But that was different, Claire was a child then and I could understand my parents' concern. "Well you could help me out sis," I said.

She looked at me through narrowed eyes, "Uh oh. What do you have in mind?"

I grinned, "Make yourself look just as hot and then they can't complain so much at me. I'll just say that I'm dressing no different from you."

I didn't get the reaction I expected. I had thought that Claire would laugh, banter with me and probably agree. Instead she rolled her eyes, murmured "Sure," and turned away to make herself a cup of coffee.

I walked over to her side, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked at me with a rueful grin and shook her head, "You don't get it do you?"

I really didn't get it. "No, what's up?"

She softly replied, "That's just it. I look at you now and there's no way I can make myself look as 'hot' as you. I don't compare. I know you used to be my brother, but next to you now I'm just ordinary. I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe it's because this is the way you were always meant to be..."

I bit my lip. "Claire I'm so sorry, I'm an insensitive idiot. But you're wrong, there's no way you look ordinary next to me."

She gave me that look that would have been a look over her glasses if she wore glasses. It was accompanied with the cynical up twist of one side of her mouth and corresponding cocked eyebrow. It all combined to tell me she thought I should catch myself on. She said as much, "Come on Nicola. Let's not kid ourselves. I know I'm fairly attractive. I don't have a complex about myself or anything, but let's be honest here. You're downright gorgeous and you know it."

I tried to protest but she continued, "I think that's part of why Mum and Dad actually find it so hard. They find it hard to deny what you are saying as you sit in front of them looking like you do. And I'm betting I'm not the first person to tell you this, no?"

I shrugged awkwardly, "I guess."

She smiled, "Look, I'm not going to get too hung up on it so don't you either. OK?"

I grinned "OK, but I've one condition on accepting that."

I got the 'uh-oh' look again. She replied tentatively, "And what is that?"

I smiled, "After breakfast, we're going upstairs and it's time for a makeover party for Claire."

She rolled her eyes but didn't offer too many protests.
 

*          *          *
 
We managed to sneak upstairs into Claire's room just before Mum and Dad surfaced. Claire showered and washed her hair, whilst I checked out her wardrobe to see what we had to work with. When she came back into the room, I sat her down and blow dried her hair for her. I think she enjoyed it and found it relaxing. A bit of hairspray here and there too. I had brought a spare corset of mine in from my room and grinned wickedly as I held it up.

Claire squealed, "You expect me to wear that?"

I smiled, "Sure, I'm totally enhanced and non-natural, why shouldn't you be?"

She laughed and her resistance wavered, "Well OK, as long as it isn't too uncomfortable."

I giggled, "Oh come on Claire, if I've learnt anything about being a woman over these past few weeks, it's that comfort is secondary to beauty."

I slipped the corset around her and began to tighten it. After I got the slack out of it, I paused for a moment. Claire spoke, "I'm glad you're done, it's really quite restrictive isn't it?"

I giggled, "Honey, I haven't even started yet, we're only about to get going." Any protests she was going to lodge were cut off in a sharp gasp as I began to tug hard on the laces. When I was satisfied, I tied it off.

"There you go, what a figure," I complimented.

"I can hardly breathe," she complained.

"Look in the mirror at your waist and your bust," I instructed.

She did so and her complaints began to settle. She turned from one side to the next, "Damn. Look at me." She cupped her hands under her breasts, "Wow, look at what I've got. But heck, I can hardly breathe."

I shrugged, "You'll get used to it sister darling."

I had picked out a knee-length little black dress that Claire had brought with her and some matching pantyhose. Claire got dressed and then I sat her down and began to do her make up for her. Claire had tried to protest that she had been a woman for a lot longer than I had and knew how to do her own make up. I ignored her protests. When I was finished, I stepped back and was really quite pleased with my efforts.

Claire looked in the mirror, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Has the world gone crazy or something?"

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

"First my erstwhile brother shows up as a hot babe and then 'she' proceeds to do my make up better than I can? How come?"

I laughed, "I had a good teacher. Remember Beth is a top beautician and for the last month, I've spent hours each day looking at fashions, make up, beauty techniques." I shrugged, "A good teacher, that's all."

She smiled and stood up to take in her full appearance in the mirror. I stood beside her and we looked at ourselves. Claire smiled, "We both look pretty good don't we?"

I nodded and grinned, "We certainly do."

Claire pursed her lips, "They're gonna flip when they see us aren't they?"

I nodded seriously, "Yep, they are."
 

*          *          *
 
When we went downstairs, my mother looked at us and did a double take. "Oh err morning girls," she looked at us closer, "don't you think are you just well, dressed a little too..."

Claire stifled a giggle, "A little too?"

My mother folded her arms, "You know what I mean. You're both dressed quite provocatively."

Claire and I looked at each other and then smiled at our mother. I feigned a little pout, "But Mum, we think we look nice. We wanted to get dressed up for the party."

My mother sighed and spread her hands, "Fine, fine. I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with you two. Well if you're not too busy preening and complimenting yourselves, there's plenty of work to be done in the kitchen."

The rest of the morning was duly spent helping out in the kitchen. Mum was cooking a large meat roast for lunch and there was lots of preparation to be done. I spent most of my time peeling potatoes as Claire prepared the vegetables. My father had been out for a walk down to the nearby newsagents to get the morning paper. He came back into the kitchen and nodded to us all and then, like my mother, took another look at us. He paused and then quietly said, "Nic-ola, can I have a word with you in the living room?"

I shared a quick knowing look with Claire, dried my hands and then followed my father into the living room. I felt like the proverbial little boy who had been sent to see the school headmaster. He sat down and indicated for me to do likewise. I was very careful to smooth my skirt down properly as I sat. I tried to smile at my father.

He sighed, "Right, you are going to live as a woman, that's your choice. But you are still my child, and I will still give you advice. You are an adult and what you do with my advice is up to you. Is that fair enough?" I nodded and he continued, "I can't tell you what way to dress and I can see that modesty is not one of your highest priorities."

I found my voice, "Dad! That's not fair. Tell me exactly what is wrong with the way I look and the way I am dressed. My skirt is just above my knees, hardly too short. I'm not exposing any excess bared flesh or anything."

He paused and looked like he was searching for the right words, "I know what you are saying, but well, it's just that...well I think you are dressed and looking a bit too...sexy." His nose wrinkled in distaste at having to actually say the word.

I raised my hand to my mouth to hide the smile which I knew would not be well received. I composed myself, "Dad, I hear what you are saying. But I like dressing and looking like this. It feels really nice. I enjoy being attractive. Heck I've never really experienced it in my life so far."

I could see my father was having difficulties swallowing all this. He nodded, "Well OK, but have you spared a thought for the consequences of your actions?"

I was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Have you thought about the effect you will have on men? The way you look will have a certain effect on them you know."

I nodded, "I know." I shrugged, "I haven't given it much thought really, but I'll be careful."

He nodded slowly. I could see that he wanted to say something more but was having difficulty starting. Suddenly I knew what it was he wanted to ask. "Just ask me Dad," I said softly.

He looked up at me and after another brief pause nodded, "Alright. I hate to ask, but...are you gay?"

This was almost the question I was expecting, but I didn't expect it to be phrased just like this. I didn't exactly know how to answer the question as he had put it. "Umm Dad, gay as in what way? Do you mean girl-girl or boy-boy?"

He looked uncomfortable even discussing such things. My father was very conservative in his outlook, "I mean 'boy-boy' as you put it."

I sighed, "Dad, for one thing, I'm not exactly a boy any more. What you are asking is am I attracted to men, yes?" He sort of grunted and nodded. I took a deep breath, and with honesty replied, "I don't know. This really isn't a central issue to what I'm doing. I don't know how I feel. I can't really say much more than that. Would you be more comfortable if I was still attracted to women given the way I look now?"

He shook his head, "Nicola! I don't know what to think. I mean my son comes home and announces he's now a woman. It's all a bit much. I can't get to grips with it all. I just hope you think it through and work out the ramifications of what you are doing."

"I'm trying to Dad, I really am."

He didn't know what to say, "Well, go on then - go back and help your mother and sister."

I was never so glad to go and peel potatoes as I was then.
 

*          *          *
 
Uncle George was the first to arrive. We heard him before we saw him. Or rather, we heard the roar of his Mercedes as he pulled into the driveway. He came in with his usual bluster, "Esther, my delightful sister, how are you?" He kissed her on the cheek and then shook Dad's hand vigorously, "Bill, great to see you, hope you're having a happy Christmas?" My Dad offered some non-committal platitude in response. Uncle George was the youngest sibling on Mum's side, being in his mid forties. He was I guess what you could call a smoothie. He was wearing a silk shirt, matching neck-tie and tailored slacks. He gave Mum his coat and then turned to us, "Ah Claire how's my favourite niece?" He cocked his head, "You're looking quite lovely today." He gave Claire a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He turned to me and obviously not recognising me, turned back to Claire, "And who is your lovely friend?"

Claire tried to keep a straight face, "Oh this isn't my friend, Uncle George meet my new sister, Nicola."

He looked puzzled for a moment but then the penny dropped, "Nicola? As in...Nick? Huh? What's going on here?" He looked a little flustered but quickly regained his composure, "Erm, no-one told me this party was fancy dress."

I smiled, "Uncle George, it's not fancy dress. I've sort of had a bit of a lifestyle change."

Uncle George always prided himself on being one of the more progressive members of our family. Dad called it liberal. "Ah, ok Nicola. Well whatever tickles your fancy." He looked closely at me again, "Well I have to say, no matter how strange this seems it does seem to suit you. I guess I have another niece." He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek too. He turned around and clapped his hands, "Now, how about a drink for George after that long journey? Bill, I don't suppose you've got a good bottle of wine in the house? No? Ah well, just as well I brought one along myself." And he headed into the kitchen in search of a glass. That was Uncle George. He was irrepressible and as much as my parents might try to disapprove, it was impossible to dislike him. They rolled their eyes, Claire and I just chuckled.

Aunt Olivia, Dad's sister and her husband, Uncle Edward, arrived next. There were the usual greetings with my parents and then to Uncle George. They greeted Claire and as before, when attention was focussed on me, it was apparent that they didn't recognise me. "Hello dear, who are you?" asked Aunt Olivia. Uncle George didn't want to miss out on the moment, "Oh Olivia, hadn't you heard? Nick has become a Nicola." He casually sipped his wine. My aunt's eyes widened and she took a closer look at me, "Well I never." She raised a hand to her throat and looked as if she didn't know what to say.

"Huh, what was that?" asked Uncle Edward who had been talking to Dad. Olivia turned to her husband and pointed at me, "Apparently that is our nephew Nick."

"Was," I said.

"Pardon?" my aunt replied.

"Was," I repeated, "'That' was your nephew Nick. 'I' am now your niece Nicola." I was a bit peeved at being talked about as an object in the third person. I stood up, smoothed my skirt and walked over to my aunt and gave her a hug, "Nice to see you Aunt Olivia," and then walked over to Uncle Edward and stood on my tip-toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek, "Hello Uncle Edward." I turned and walked back to my seat. Aunt Olivia was frozen to the spot and Uncle Edward held his cheek where I had kissed him as if he had been slapped. He then sort of spluttered, "Bill, what on earth is going on here, is this some sort of joke?"

My father was leaning against the far wall and didn't look too thrilled at being brought into this. He shrugged and shifted awkwardly, "If it's a joke, none of us are laughing Edward. It is as you have heard."

Aunt Olivia looked at me intently, "What's got into you Nick? Why on earth are you doing this? Are you gay?" Aunt Olivia was one of those well-meaning tactless people. She didn't set out to be demeaning, she wasn't malicious, she just didn't put too much thought into what she said.

I sighed, "One - nothing has got into me, this is my choice. Two - I am doing this because I want to. Three - gay or otherwise has nothing to do with this and quite frankly if I were, again that would be my choice." I was getting a bit irked and I think my mother sensed this.

"Nicola, come and give me a hand in the kitchen for a moment please," she asked softly. I knew what she was doing and I wasn't too pleased. I wanted to stay and stand up for myself, but I knew better than to argue with her. As I was leaving the room, I heard Aunt Olivia chide my father, "You let Esther call him Nicola, haven't you tried to talk some sense into him Bill?" I bristled but continued into the kitchen aided by the gentle pressure of my mother's hand on my back.

She closed the door behind her and I blew off steam, "Who does she think she is? What gives her the right to talk to me like that?"

My mother held up a hand, "Darling, what did you expect. You know them. How did you think they would react?"

I shrugged and calmed down. "I guess you're right. I'm just a little on edge."

"I'm not getting at you, but remember you are the one who has sparked this off. You know that your father and I don't approve, you can't expect others to either. But I suggest that you try to avoid making things worse than they already are. Be civil, courteous and modest."

I nodded, "You're right again." I groaned, "How do you get to be so wise Mum?"

She couldn't resist the opportunity, "By listening to what your parents tell you."

"Touché," I murmured with a wry grin.
 

*          *          *
 
We both slipped back into the room as the last of the guests were arriving. Dad was taking the coats from Aunt Vera, Mum's older sister, Uncle Keith and Phil and Dawn my cousins. There was a lot of hand-shaking, greetings, hugs and the like. I hung back near the kitchen door suddenly feeling very self-conscious. My earlier bravado had deserted me and I cast a longing look towards the hall door and thought about making a dash for my bedroom. I think my mother noticed and gently squeezed my arm, before whispering in my ear, "Don't even think about it, you've got to go through with it now."

Inevitably, the round of greetings from the new arrivals shifted its focus to my mother and me. I swallowed and decided to make a pre-emptive strike. "Uncle Keith, Aunt Vera, Phil, Dawn," already their faces looked puzzled at the way this apparent stranger was addressing them, "I know this must be quite strange, but as you can see, I've been going through some changes in my life. I'm Nick, or rather I used to be." I shrugged, "I'm Nicola now."

"Shit!" was the subconscious response from my cousin Phil. Aunt Vera suspended her own disbelief for a moment to remonstrate with him, "Phillip, watch your language." I don't think he even heard her, his eyes were glued to me. Uncle Keith looked quite disturbed and Aunt Vera shook her head as if she didn't believe it. Dawn had a little smile on her face as she took in my appearance.

I forced a smile, "Yes it's me, honest." They continued to stare, "Umm, I think I'm going to melt if your eyes burn into me any longer." I just wanted to fade into the background. Eventually they got the message and tried not to stare any further. Well except Phil who had gone quite pale. "Phillip, stop staring," hissed Uncle Keith.

My mother cleared her throat, "If you all want to make your way into the dining room, we're ready to serve dinner. Maybe Olivia and Vera could help me?"

As we headed to the dining room, Dawn fell in beside me. She smiled, "Nicola? Is that right?"

I grinned, "Yes, afraid so."

"Oh my god, you look amazing," she whispered.

I smiled, "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"No seriously, you look beautiful. I don't know how I never saw this before, you are a natural. I can see why you've done this."

"You can?"

"Yes, this is so obviously you. I mean you were always a bit of a weed before."

"Hey Dawn!"

"Sorry, but you know I'm right."

I laughed, "I guess so." We sat down together and Claire sat down on my other side. I flashed her a 'thank-you' smile.

"When did this all happen?" asked Dawn.

I began to tell her the brief version of my transformation to date. I paused whilst my father gave thanks for the food. Mum and my aunts dished out the dinner and after a while, the stilted conversation turned into a buzz. I had no doubt that I was the topic of a few of the little chats going on around the table. I also noticed that Phil was sitting at the far side not talking to anyone. I caught his eye and smiled but he looked away quickly. I wasn't sure how to take this. Phil and I had always been really close and I had been looking forward to catching up with him. But I turned my attention back to Dawn and was so grateful to have a friendly non-confrontational almost normal conversation.

The dinner was good and I sensed that people were beginning to relax. Particularly Uncle George who was single-handedly working his way through his bottle of wine. I caught his eye and he winked at me and raised his glass to me. I smiled back at him. After dessert was finished, my mother decreed that Claire, Dawn and I should clear up and sort out the dishes. I didn't mind, but Claire and Dawn groaned. Once we were alone in the kitchen, Dawn hugged me. "What was that for?" I asked with surprise.

She shrugged, "I just guessed you could do with a hug. You looked a little down on it, when we arrived. I imagine you haven't found things easy with your parents let alone with all this crew here today."

I smiled, "Thanks. You're right. Everyone hasn't really been what you would call supportive. Well, Claire's been a good help."

"Hey now, don't drag me into this any further," Claire said, "I'm trying to appear as the good child." She winked, "I've my eye on a bigger share of the inheritance now."

I squealed and threw some soap suds at her and the beginnings of an all out war were nipped in the bud by Mum bringing some more dishes in to us, "Girls, behave now." She left again.

Dawn regarded me thoughtfully, "Your Mum seems to have accepted things."

I shrugged, "Not really. It's more reluctant resignation. And believe me, it took a lot to even get to that stage."

We chatted amiably as we cleared up and eventually after seeming like we had washed every dish in the street, let alone our house, we were done. I wasn't overly keen on going back in to face everyone, but I knew I had a few things to tell them. Predictably, as soon as we entered the room, the conversation hushed. I decided to take my opportunity.

"While everyone is here and I have your attention, I want to talk to you for a few moments." I certainly had their full attention. "I know that seeing me like this must be quite a shock to you all, but I want you to know that my decision to take this step is reasoned and well considered. I know that most of you probably don't approve and think I'm some sort of weirdo or pervert..."

"Nicola," my mother chided, "please."

I apologised, "Sorry Mum. But you know what I mean. Anyway, I do have something to tell you and a request to make of all of you." I paused, they were still with me, "I've managed to land a recording deal with Sony records and will be recording an album in the next few months. Now you can all save your praise and congratulations for later as I've more to say." I couldn't help the irony and saw Claire and Dawn grinning at me, "Yes, this deal is as my new self. My sort of stage name if you could call it that will be Cara Malone. That is the name I will be recording and performing under. Now this is where it gets tricky. Outside of this room, there are three other people in the world who know who Cara Malone really used to be." I paused and let this sink in. "So if you follow me, I am not planning on advertising Cara or Nicola's origins. This is in no way a reflection of me being ashamed of what I am doing, but it is simply the reality of pursuing my career." I took a breath, "Now I am asking you, I can only ask, that you respect my wishes and don't tell anyone about this. I can't make you or force you. I know you may not agree with what I am doing, but I am simply asking that you give me a chance to live this life my way." I looked around the room and met each person's gaze. Phil looked away again. I was finished speaking. There was silence for a few moments and then Dawn sat up and spoke.

"You can count on me, I'll not say a word," she stated. She looked around at the others as if trying to incite a response. She nodded at her father.

Uncle Keith grimaced, "I'm not planning on saying anything either, sure we won't Vera?" She nodded sharply.

Aunt Olivia spoke up, "I'm certainly not planning on telling anyone at all. But more out of consideration for Bill and Esther's reputation."

I forced myself to smile sweetly, "Thank you Aunt Olivia."

Uncle George snorted and chuckled, "What I want to know is, can I buy shares in your record company before you make it big?"

I sat down and slowly the conversation started up again in little groups around the room. After a short while, I decided to go and speak to Phil. He was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. I went over and sat beside him and simply said, "Hi."

"Uhh hi," he said shifting a little uncomfortably.

"Phil, are you OK? I mean I get the feeling you're avoiding me."

He shrugged, "I dunno. It's just that this is like weird. The way you look and all."

I nodded, "You think I look bad?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle, "Yeah that's the problem, you look bad." He shook his head, "That's not it at all. You don't look bad. That's just it."

I was lost now, "I don't follow you Phil."

He sighed, "Look I was coming here looking forward to catching up with my old cousin Nick, and here you are...looking like...this."

I nodded, "It's OK Phil. I shouldn't expect people to accept me easily. But I did sort of hope you wouldn't react like the others."

He looked at me sharply, "Hey, don't lump me with the rest of them. You've got it wrong. What you do is up to you and that's fine. None of my business. I really hope things work out for you and you make it big."

I was quite mixed up now, "Thanks."

He continued, "Look, the problem is with me, not you." He turned round to face me, "When I arrived, I came into the room and looked around. I didn't know who you were but I was wondering who the babe in the corner was." He shrugged, "And then I found out it was you."

Now I understood, "Oh."

"Yes. Oh," he replied, "and when I look at you still, I can't believe it's really my cousin Nick."

I nodded, "Well believe it's really your cousin Nicola." I held out my hand, "Hi Phil, I'm your cousin Nicola."

He looked at my hand for a moment and then shook his head and grinned to himself, "You're something else you know." He took my hand and shook it. "This doesn't mean I don't still feel weird about this though, OK?"

I chuckled, "Fine by me." We chatted a bit. Mainly I got him to tell me what he had been up to, because I didn't want to freak him out more by talking about my recent happenings.
 

*          *          *
 
When they all eventually left, I felt totally drained. As I looked at my parents, they looked much the same as I felt. My mother sighed, "I think I'll go to bed." She stood and then winced and raised her hand to her chest.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked with concern.

My mother shook her head, "Nothing. Just a bit of heartburn. Too much rich eating and a bit of stress I imagine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

We all headed upstairs and when I got into my room, I found I had received a text message on my mobile. It was from Jools. It was short and to the point: "U cow! I'm dying 2 hear how u r. Phone asap." I grinned and keyed in her mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jools."

"Cara!" she gasped, "About bloody time. I've been thinking you would phone me for over a day now."

"Yeah, sorry. I've been sort of occupied."

"Well?"

I grinned, "Well what?"

"Oh," she exclaimed with frustration, "Don't leave me hanging, tell me all about it."

I told her about all that had happened since I had left. We must have been talking for almost an hour and I only realised the time when my mobile phone battery bleeped as it was getting low. I finished up with Jools and promised to keep in touch over the rest of the holiday period.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning Mum had decided it was time to revisit the local supermarket to replenish our depleted food stocks. She asked Claire and I to come along and help. Claire reluctantly agreed. I couldn't bring myself to go and look at more food after the previous two days of heavy eating. Plus I had something I needed to talk to my father about. He was sitting in the living room reading his morning paper. I brought in two cups of coffee and offered him one.

"Erm thanks...Nic-ola."

I smiled and sat down opposite him and fidgeted a bit. He noticed. He set his paper down slowly and regarded me. "Alright, what is it?"

I absentmindedly brushed my hair back from my face, "Well Dad, I sort of need some advice." I paused.

"Go on," he urged.

"Well. It's sort of delicate. But I was thinking with you being a solicitor and all, you would know the legal side of things."

He took a sip of his coffee, "Come on, just ask me what you want. Dancing around it isn't likely to make it more palatable is it?"

I nodded and swallowed, "OK. I was wondering, how do I go about changing my name?"

He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth and slowly set it down on the arm of his chair. "Changing your name." He took a long, slow breath. "You want to legally change your name to Nicola."

I nodded. "Look Dad, I know how hard this must be for you to take. I know it seems like I'm shunning the name you and Mum gave me, but surely you understand that with where my life is going, I have to have a proper name that matches who I am. I need legal things like ID, driver's licence and a passport and all."

He sat there for a moment and then sighed and sat up. "Right. A person can legally change their name by deed poll. This is a legal document that you draw up with a solicitor and sign. It is a declaration that you are forgoing your previous name and are going to use whatever new name you specify."

I nodded, "Where does this deed poll go?"

He shrugged, "It doesn't have to go anywhere. You can submit it to the Enrolment Books of the Central Office of the Supreme Court of Deeds and a public record of your name change will be published in the London Gazette."

I screwed up my nose, "But then, how do I go about changing the likes of my driving licence and so on?"

"You need to submit your deed poll with your licence application and they will issue one in your new name."

I grimaced, "I guess the licensing authority will keep a record of that."

He nodded, "I imagine they would."

I pondered this for a few moments, "Is it possible to get your birth certificate changed?"

He considered this for a few moments and after a little hesitation answered, "No. In England and Wales you can only in the normal course of the law apply to change a child's birth certificate and only under certain circumstances."

I knew my father well and I had spotted something in the nuance of his reply. "Dad, why did you hesitate and what did you mean by 'the normal course of the law'?"

He sat there thinking for a few moments. He didn't answer my question. "Let me see if I understand you. You want to change your name and all appropriate documents. You don't want there to be any record of this. You want a new birth certificate. You don't want there to be any evidence of your change. As if Nicholas Evans never existed."

I winced at the last comment, but he was right. "Yes I guess that's about it."

He nodded slowly, and enigmatically replied, "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

I tried to press him for an answer, but he wouldn't be drawn on it. I knew where I got my stubborn determination from.
 

*          *          *
 
After breakfast the next day that my father stood up and simply said, "Come on Nicola. Get your coat, we are going out." I didn't know where we were going, but I figured it probably had something to do with what we talked about the previous day, so I didn't ask. Mum and Claire were obviously curious. "Where are you two going?" Mum asked.

"Business to take care of," my father said in a tone which indicated that he wasn't intending to elaborate. I followed him out into the hall.

"Err Dad, I don't know where we are going, but am I dressed OK?" I was wearing my black velvet top and burgundy trousers.

He shrugged, "Not quite my choice for you if you know what I mean. But it will do fine."

"Sure know how to make a girl feel good," I murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, let's go." I grabbed my black jacket.

We drove to the local newsagents where there was one of those little photo booths. My father told me to sit inside and make myself presentable for a photo.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just do it, you'll see in good time." He put the money in. I shrugged, pulled the little curtain over the doorway of the booth and got ready for the photos. I tried to relax and give a natural smile. Four quick flashes and 3 minutes of waiting later, and the strip of photos came rolling out of the slot in the side of the booth. I looked at them with interest having never seen a photo of myself as Nicola/Cara before. It wasn't too bad. These sorts of photos always looked a little unnatural though. We got back in the car and were driving in the general direction of Cardiff city centre.

"Can I ask where we are going Dad?"

He continued to look straight ahead at the road, but then after a few moments replied, "We're going to see a friend of mine who might be able to help you."

I was immediately suspicious and concerned. "What sort of friend? What is this about? I hope you're not trying to persuade me out of what I'm doing again."

I think he sensed my panic, "Relax. I'm doing this probably against my better judgement, but this is to help you do what you want to do."

"Where are we going then?" I repeated.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "We are going to the law courts."

I wasn't too reassured by his answer, but I forced myself to sit at peace and decided to hold my tongue and see what came of this. Before long, we turned onto Fitzalan Place, and drove past the courthouse. My father turned into Knox Road and found a parking place. We got out and began walking back to the courthouse.

"Dad, the place looked pretty closed to me."

"It is."

"So we're going there because?"

"There's a friend of mine there who is expecting us."

We walked up to a side door and Dad pressed the buzzer. A metallic voice spoke from the speaker, "Yes?"

"William Evans. Justice Dempsey is expecting me."

A pause. And then the door buzzed and unlocked. Dad pushed it open and I followed him in. A security guard was inside and he nodded to my father, "Mr. Evans, he's in his office." The guard looked at me for longer than was necessary and I was aware of his eyes travelling up and down my form. I resisted the urge to shiver and followed close behind my father.

My father murmured, "Ignorant grunt."

"I beg your pardon?" I whispered.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, I've a good mind to go back and give him what for."

"Dad, please don't"

"I won't, but he better behave better when we are leaving."

We went up two flights of stairs and along a wood-panelled corridor until we came to a door with a brass nameplate on it declaring that this was the office of the Justice Dempsey we were apparently coming to see. My father knocked and a gruff voice called out, "Come in." We went in. The office was spacious and carpeted with a plush red pile. An old undoubtedly antique mahogany desk was set in front of the windows and a balding man with glasses in smart casual clothes was sitting behind it. When we entered, he stood up and greeted my father without smiling, "Bill, I'd say it was good to see you, but you better have a damn good reason for dragging me in here on my holidays."

"Richard, you know I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important," my father replied.

Justice Dempsey noticed me. "Who's this?" he asked brusquely, "Your daughter?"

My father gave a thin-lipped smile and didn't quite answer his question, "This is the reason why I am coming to you today."

"Hmm. Well have a seat. Daughter got into trouble or something and you need help?"

We sat down. I was quite intimidated and was happy to let my father do the talking. "Something like that," he replied, "Except this isn't my daughter...it's my son."

"What the hell?" spluttered Justice Dempsey. He looked at me closely, and then fixed my father in his gaze, "Is this some sort of joke which I'm not getting and not finding funny? I may be near retirement, but my mind and eyesight are still sharp enough to tell me that this young woman looks nothing like anything that could be called your son."

My father hesitated and I decided to speak for the first time. I wasn't sure what my father was doing, but decided to trust him. "Thank you sir," I said softly, "but what he has told you is true. I used to be his son."

He looked at me and blinked several times. He rubbed his forehead and then set his palms on his desk and faced my father again. In a softer tone he continued, "Alright Bill. What's going on and why are you here?"

My father nodded, "This is...or was my son Nick. He...I mean she...is adamant that he... she is going to live as a woman. Understandably I have tried to talk some sense and make hi..her see sense. To no avail."

"Damn!" Dempsey sympathised with my father.

"I know," my father agreed, "But the upshot is, she is as stubborn as her father and refuses to see reason." I felt my blood beginning to boil and it was all I could do to sit there and keep silent. But something told me that an outburst here was not going to be helpful no matter what was going on. My father continued, "As you can understand, this has the potential to cause our family and myself professionally a large degree of embarrassment."

Justice Dempsey interjected, "And you want me to put her away for good?"

My eyes boggled and when he saw my expression, he laughed heartily, "Had you worried there young woman....man....whatever." He waved a hand at my father, "Go on Bill."

"Well. 'Nick' wants to become 'Nicola'. Obviously a deed poll and change of major identification documents will leave a paper trail. And the birth certificate will still state the male identity."

Dempsey narrowed his eyes, "You realise Bill that under law, there is no legal provision for alteration of birth certificates."

My father sighed, "Come on Richard, how long have we known each other? Thirty years? Don't treat me like an apprentice. You know I know the law. And you also know that I know the provisions under the Ministry of Defence Protection Act of 1993."

Justice Dempsey paused and took a deep breath. He removed his glasses. "Bill, are you asking what I think you are asking?"

My father looked him straight in the eye, "Yes Richard. I need your help. You know it can be done. You can do it."

"Yes but should I do it?"

"Why not? What I am asking is not for you to do anything illegal, you know I wouldn't do that. It is well within your purview and discretion to make judgements on such matters as these."

I really was having a hard time following the discussion. I had a vague inkling as to what was going on, but wasn't really sure. We all sat in silence for a few moments as Dempsey cleaned his glasses with a cloth. He sighed and put his glasses on again, "You did help me out with Brian that time."

My father raised a hand, "Richard, I'm not here to bargain or put you under pressure. I'm not coming saying this is quid pro quo. I'm making a request. The decision is yours."

He nodded, "I appreciate that. And it's not as if you are going to make this a regular habit. Alright Bill. I'll do it." He looked me, "Young...lady...I guess I'll have to address you as that. Young lady, what do you wish your name to be?"

I cleared my throat, "Err, Nicola Jane Evans."

He nodded and wrote this down, "And what was your full name?"

"Nicholas James Evans."

"And what is your National Insurance number and date of birth and place of birth?"

I bit my lip but them remembered something. I fished in my handbag, pulled out my purse and found the card, "FN 75 45 36 C, my date of birth is 17 September 1979 and I was born in Pembroke."

He wrote this down and nodded. "Now 'Nicola', do you have your driving licence with you? I need it please. And I presume you have some photographs of your...new self?"

I looked at my father with puzzlement, but he nodded. I pulled out Nick's driving licence from my bag and gave it to him along with the strip of photos. He set them down with the piece of paper he had been taking notes on. "OK. Bill, I'll process this through the usual channels. Now today's Friday, I imagine it will be Tuesday before the documents will be ready. Deliver to your house?" My father nodded.

Dempsey grinned, "Now how about you get the hell out of here so I can get out of here soon and get back to my holidays?"

My father stood and I did likewise. The two men shook hands, "Richard, thank you so much."

"Well, I guess things are hard enough for you with what's going on. I'd be gutted if one of my boys starting pansying about like this..."

My father shrugged, "Well, got to roll with the punches."

Once we were outside the door my patience broke. "How could you let him talk about me like that and what was that all about the embarrassment to you and the family? Is that what you think of me? And I thought you were trying to help me and all you are doing is thinking of covering your own backside!" I stormed off down the empty corridor and bit my lip hard to try to prevent the tears from welling up.

"Nicola, wait!" my father called. I walked on. I heard him running from behind. He put a hand on my shoulder, "Would you stop and listen for heavens sake." I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Don't you realise what just took place in there?" he asked.

I slowly turned round, "I'm not sure."

He sighed, "I've just stepped outside the bounds of professionalism to help you. Way against my better judgement. I told you there was no way to get a birth certificate changed through standard channels..."

Just then, a door opened and a man walked into the corridor heading towards us. My father took my arm, and whispered, "Come on, let's go and we can talk in the car." We headed down the stairs and back to the door we had entered by. The same guard was there and he gave a little smile when he saw us coming. His eyes were all over me again. My father paused and in a low voice growled, "Take your eyes off my daughter." The young man gulped and stuttered, "S-sorry sir." He pressed the release for the door and we headed out.

When we got into the car we sat there. My father turned to me, "I'm sorry for the things I said in there. I didn't mean them, but it was the only way to do it. I had to convince Richard to help us for my sake. He would have no compulsion to help you unless he thought he was helping me." He paused and took a deep breath, "I don't agree with what you are doing, but I want you to know I am not ashamed of a child of mine. This was for your benefit."

I looked at him with uncertainty, "What did happen in there then Dad?"

"There are certain times when people need a change of identity. This is required discreetly and without any public record. There is provision for specified members of the bench to grant such a change if the case presented to them merits it. Richard Dempsey happens to be one of those. He also happens to be an old colleague and friend of mine."

"How do you know about this Dad?"

He paused, "That's not something we need to discuss."

"So what happens now?"

"You will be issued with a new birth certificate, driving licence, passport and National Insurance number card. Your records will be changed on the Driver Licensing central records and with the records of the passport agency and inland revenue."

My mouth dropped open, "They can do that?"

My father looked at me sternly, "You do not tell anyone about this. You do not talk about this. You do not tell your mother or your sister. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I was flabbergasted. He went on, "I am doing this for you to protect you, but there are some things that cannot be changed by this process."

"Umm what like?"

"As wide ranging as the powers of this act might seem, they cannot change for example your school records. But that is hardly necessary I would think. What you will have should be sufficient."

I pondered, "Maybe. Maybe not."

He looked closely at me, "What are you thinking?"

"Umm nothing really. Thanks Dad. I really appreciate what you have done. Sorry for going off at you."

He shrugged, "Richard's a right wing jerk." I laughed. I'd rarely heard my father talk like that and for him to say that was quite something. He started the car and we drove home. My father again immediately deflected the barrage of questions from my Mum and Claire and said that we had gone for a drive and talked. When Claire tried to pump me for information later, I refused to go into details. She seemed hurt, but she would survive.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 12
 
 
On Saturday, Claire and I decided to go into the city centre for some sales shopping and we spent an enjoyable day and a fairly obscene amount of money on clothes, cosmetics and jewellery. I think we were bad for each other as we encouraged each other on. Claire had remarked that she had never had as much fun sales shopping before and could begin to see some advantages of having a sister. On Saturday night, she headed back to Bristol as she was meeting up with some friends the next day and had to go back to work on Monday. She promised to return for New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. We hugged tightly before she left and I thanked her for all her support.

Although there wasn't any compelling reason for me to stay on with my parents and although it might have been easier to take my opportunity to go back to London, I decided that it was best to stay. The more time I spent with them, the better they would adjust to what I was doing. Or so I hoped. Sometimes it seemed like we were making progress and that I was being accepted. But other times I would get disapproving looks and little disappointed comments. What could I expect though?

On Sunday I went to church again with my parents and enjoyed the simple service. We had a pleasant lunch together and as it was a clear sunny day, we all went for a walk in the afternoon. Being at home was not easy, yet I was enjoying spending a prolonged period of time with my folks. I think above all, I felt relief that they now knew all that was going on. Almost all. The cold fear and dread that I had had over the previous month when thinking about my parents was gone. I was thankful for that. We had been an open family as we grew up and hadn't liked keeping my changes from them.

Dad went back to work on Monday and my mother was meeting up with some friends of hers. Being at a bit of a loss for things to do, I decided to go to the local gym for a workout. When I arrived, I suddenly had a panic about the changing rooms but was relieved to find out that the female changing area had private cubicles where I could change into my leotard without exposing myself. I enjoyed a good workout. I also noticed that I was receiving a fair share of glances from a young man. I tried not to let on that I knew he was watching me. I was flattered by the attention, but I knew I had to be more careful. When I was heading out of the gym, he came over and tried to make small talk. Part of me felt I should be polite and talk, but I was fast learning that politeness is often taken as meaning a lot more with some men. So I gently, but firmly excused myself. I didn't shower at the gym for obvious reasons and headed back to the house for that. With the house to myself for the afternoon, I enjoyed a relaxing few hours playing on my old friend the piano.

Phil phoned the next morning a little to my surprise. "Hi Nicola?"

"Yes?"

"Phil here."

"Phil?"

"Yes you know your cousin. You introduced yourself to me on Boxing Day, remember?"

I laughed, "How are you Phil?"

"I'm fine. Listen I wanted to apologise for being a prat the other day. Can I make it up to you?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Dawn and I and two of my friends were going to head out for a bit of New Year's Eve entertainment and wondered if you and Claire would like to head up to join us?"

"Where are you going?"

"We were going to head to Diva's in the Student's Union." This was in Swansea, where Phil's family lived.

I groaned, "Seriously?"

He laughed, "Come on, it's about the only lively place in this town and they have a good entertainment programme planned."

"Well, I guess I don't have any better offers." Then something struck me, "You said two of your friends, you, Dawn, Claire and me?"

"Ye-es," he said, "Why?"

"Sounds like a nice even number to me. Let me guess, one of your friends wouldn't happen to be Owen, Dawn's boyfriend."

A slight pause, "Well yes. How do you know about Owen?"

I laughed, "Oh you know, girl talk on Boxing Day. So is this a triple date cous? If so, which of your cousins are you planning to be incestuous with?"

He laughed, "Hey, it's not illegal for cousins you know."

I smiled, "Maybe not but my question stands: are you planning to partner Claire or me? Or are you going to lump me with your friend?"

"Nicola, it's just a fun night out, nothing serious. If you don't want to come, that's fine."

"OK sorry. I'm only teasing. What time and where? I'll talk to Claire and see what she says."

"Meet at our house about 8pm?" he suggested.

"I'll let you know."

I phoned Claire during her lunch hour and she was all for it although she groaned at having to drive all the way up from Bristol and then on to Swansea. She said that she would phone Phil back and confirm that we were coming. I warned her to get here in good time as we had to make ourselves presentable.

It was late afternoon when I started to think of heading to the bathroom to get ready. I figured I should take a head start so that the bathroom was free when Claire arrived. Just before I went upstairs, the doorbell rang. My mother answered the door and called me, "Nicola, it's someone with something for you."

I was intrigued and went to the door to find a leather-clad motorcyclist courier there with a sealed package for me. It was labelled 'Private and Confidential'. I was initially puzzled and then I suddenly realised what it probably was. I signed for it and thanked the courier. My mother was curious and I knew she wanted to know what was in the package. But I remembered my father's warnings and I shrugged and said I would open it later. Yes about thirty seconds later once I was in the privacy of my own room.

I ripped open the package and laid the contents on my bed. I was really quite amazed. I had a brand new passport in the name of Nicola Jane Evans with one of my new photos in it. Similarly for my driving licence. What was even more impressive was that the driving licence had the same issue date as my previous one and looked a little battered and used. However the birth certificate capped it all. It really looked like a certificate that was 23 years old. The paper was a little faded and frayed at the edges. I shook my head as I handled these documents. The amount of work and effort that must be required to produce these was staggering. I felt elated - it was like a confirmation of new identity. I slipped the birth certificate into an envelope with my passport and stored them in a zip pocket of my suitcase. The driving licence and my new National Insurance card, I placed in my purse.
 

*          *          *
 
By the time Claire arrived home at 6:30, I was bathed, legs shaved, hair washed, dried and styled, and sitting in my room in a bathrobe wondering what to wear. Claire burst in, "Heya sis. Ready to party tonight?"

I laughed, "Don't make me nervous. I'm not much of a party animal you know."

She waved a hand at me, "That was the old you, I've great hopes for the new you. I'm going to hit the shower and wash my hair." She went to leave but then turned back, "And I know exactly what you should wear, so wait for me, OK?" I agreed as she was already halfway out of the door.

She returned 15 minutes later with wet hair. I helped her dry it and style it. Then she jumped up and grinned, "OK your outfit for tonight."

I looked at her warily, "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"

She laughed, "Because you're a bad girl?"

I pouted, "Am not. I'm a good girl." I tossed my head.

She waved a hand at me and began to rummage around in my wardrobe, "Not tonight you're not. Time to try out some of your new purchases from the weekend."

I groaned a little. Claire had encouraged me to make some purchases that I don't think I would have made had I been left to myself. I had an idea about what was coming. She smiled and pulled out a top, "This is definitely the top for you for tonight." It was a stretchy, white sleeveless top which I knew from trying it on in the shop left none of my curves to the imagination. She continued, "And with it of course it has to be...tada!" She pulled out an extremely short, black leather skirt. She had insisted that I buy it. I had protested. I thought it was even too short for my less-than-conservative taste but she wouldn't take no for an answer. She had reasoned that if I was going to be a 'rock chick' as she called it, then of course I would need a short leather skirt. I had eventually given in, but had kept the receipt thinking that I would probably return it sometime when Claire wasn't around. "Claire, I can't! It's too...," I paused and wrinkled my nose trying to think of the right words.

She giggled, "Too what?"

I grinned, "It's too sexy I guess."

She shook her head, "No way. Tonight is not a night for too sexy. No such thing. At least try it on and see how it looks."

I sighed, "Alright, but I'm not planning to wear it." My corset was already around my waist loosely. I tightened it fairly severely. I was about to tie it off when Claire shook her head, "Oh no sister. After what you did to me in the corset the other day, don't think you are getting off easy." She walked towards me.

"Getting off easy?" I exclaimed, "It's as tight as it goes."

She raised an eyebrow, "We'll see about that. Now take a deep breath in." I groaned and did so and at the same time she yanked viciously on the laces. I know it sounds trite, but I really did feel as if I was being cut in two. Claire grunted and wrestled with the laces and then tied them off. "There, that's more like it," she said with pride. I looked at my waistline in the mirror. It really was waspish. I took little breaths and found that it wasn't too bad really. I shrugged and took the white top from her as she handed it to me. I slipped it on. It fit perfectly. It accentuated my full breasts and narrow waist. I knew it looked good, it felt good. I took the leather mini from her and stepped into it and zipped it up. Oh but it was short. It just about came down to mid thigh. "This is almost indecent," I complained.

Claire laughed, "Almost, but not quite so it will be fine. And anyway, your outfit isn't complete. I bought you a little present which I think will compliment your ensemble nicely." She handed me a packet. I took it and looked at it. Black tights. Fishnet tights!

"Claire!" I gasped, "Are you planning on getting me arrested for being a hooker tonight?"

She grinned, "Not unless you are planning to act like one. Come on, it's New Year's Eve, it's a big party night. We are going to a student club. You are a beautiful, sexy woman so why shouldn't you dress like one? Try them on, go on!"

I sighed and against my better judgement opened the packet. I pulled the tights on and adjusted them. Claire handed me my long black suede boots and said, "It has to be these, try it and see how it all looks." I shrugged and slipped the boots on. I stood up and turned to face the mirror. I stood and stared. I shook my head and murmured, "Claire, I really think I look too sexy."

She giggled, "I know, you really do. So that's it settled, that's you dressed for tonight."

"Claire! I can't go out like this," I paused, "Can I?"

She nodded, "You will go to the ball Cinderella. And if it makes you feel better, I bought a pair of the same fishnets, so you won't feel like the odd one out."

I laughed and looked at myself in the mirror. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I didn't like the way that I looked. I think the problem was I liked it too much. But I also had the perspective that I knew what a guy would probably think of the way I looked. I mentioned this, "Claire, umm, what do you think the guys will think of the way I look?"

She laughed out loud, "Oh so you are concerned about what they will think?"

"No, I mean yes, but not in that way. I mean, I don't want to give the wrong signals."

"What are the wrong signals?" she asked softly.

I shrugged, "I don't know. Like I don't want them to think I am interested in them."

She smiled, "Nicola dear little sister, this is the joy of being a woman. You can go in there looking like the hottest thing on two legs, which you probably will be, and enjoy yourself. It doesn't matter what any man thinks about you, they can look, but they can't touch and you can have no interest in them whatsoever and have a good time. It will drive them wild!"

I wrinkled my nose, "Isn't that being a bit of a tease?"

She giggled and nodded, "And?"

I sighed. With the mood she was in, I could see that I was on a hiding to nothing. I was distracted from my train of thought by Claire beginning to slide her top on. I butted in, "Hey no way sis."

"Uhh?"

"You haven't put your corset on yet." And I proceeded to wrap my spare corset around her and viciously lace her up as tightly as she had done to me. She complained but from the look on her face, I knew she liked the effect it had on her figure. She put on a black velvet top. It was stunning. Sleeveless and strapless. I quipped, "It's as well you've big enough boobs to hold that top up."

She flushed a little, "Hey, they're not quite as big as yours, but at least mine are natural. Are yours sis?" She winked.

I winked back, "Not yet." She was in the middle of pulling on a denim miniskirt and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"What did you just say?"

I shrugged now feeling a little self-consciously and she went on, "Did you just imply what I think you did?"

I shrugged again, "Umm, maybe?"

She slowly pulled her skirt on, not taking her eyes off me, "You are thinking of having breast implant surgery." A statement.

I smiled and inclined my head. I spoke softly, "Well perhaps. I mean, it sort of makes sense."

She sat down on the bed and regarded me thoughtfully, "Would you like your own breasts?"

I smiled and sat down beside her. I chewed my lower lip and then turned to look at her, "Yes, I think I would."

She blinked several times, "Wow. Have you discussed this with anyone?"

"Only my doctor."

"Your doctor? So you are really serious about this? I mean it's sort of like, irreversible, well not really, but almost."

I shrugged and grinned, "And you think what I've done already could be undone without any trouble? Even if I wanted to?"

She nodded thoughtfully, "OK, point taken." She nodded slowly to herself and then turned to look at me again, "You haven't told anyone else about this, but I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I want you to promise that you won't go off and do this without telling anyone. You must tell me beforehand."

I sighed and felt a little irked, "What? So you can try and talk me out of it? Claire, I thought you at least got it, I mean when..." I stopped. Her index finger was an inch from my lips.

"Shush you, and listen to me," she said softly. "I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. I see the person you want to be and I'm going to have to get used to it. In fact I think I might like her. Do you think I'd be taking you out like this tonight if I wasn't now with you on this? Why you have to tell me is not for me to talk you out of it. It's so I can be there for you when you have it done."

It was as if someone had put a hand around my throat and squeezed. I felt choked. I swallowed hard, and could feel my eyes stinging as moisture welled. I blinked a few times and swallowed again. I took a deep breath and forced a smile, "Claire, I don't know what to say..."

She smiled, "Just promise me."

"I promise."

She grinned, "Now dry your eyes before we get our makeup on. Remember we are going out to party tonight so no holds barred, now go for it."

I laughed and dabbed my eyes gently with a tissue. Claire helped me with my makeup and I helped her. I felt sure we were using too much mascara and kohl eyeliner pencil, but Claire pooh-poohed that. She thought we were using too much lipstick, but I silenced her. I painted my nails ruby red and Claire went for frosty pink. I put in my long drop earrings into my lower holes and a pair of medium sized hoops into the upper holes.

We stood up side by side and, like we had done the other day, looked in the mirror together. Claire gave a low whistle, "Damn but we are hot...watch out Swansea, here come the Evans sisters." I laughed, but she was right. With me in my black leather mini, fishnet tights and long suede boots and her in her short denim skirt, fishnets and stiletto heels - we were definitely a force to be reckoned with.

"Oh, look at the time!" I exclaimed. It was 7:20pm. "We're going to be late. We are supposed to meet Dawn at 8." It was just under an hour's drive to Swansea from where we were.

Claire shrugged, "I don't think they'll go on without us. But now the next problem."

I frowned, "What problem?"

She gritted her teeth, "Us getting out past Mum and Dad dressed like this."

My mouth dropped open, "Oh." I paused, "I hadn't thought of that."

Claire nodded, "Oh indeed. Any suggestions?"

I laughed, "You get me all tarted up like this and expect me to get us out of this?" I looked out the window, "Is the drainpipe out of the question?"

She looked at me, "With you in those boots and that skirt and me not much better off?"

I grinned, "Good point. So what's your plain Einstein?"

She shrugged, "I was sort of thinking we walk down the stairs, grab our coats, say goodbye and leave."

"Just like that?"

"Any better ideas?"

"No."

"Well then, let's go Nikki."

"OK, but don't call me Nikki."

"Gotcha."
 

*          *          *
 
Claire was fairly putting her foot down in her sporty Renault Clio as we made good progress along the A473. We had managed to extricate ourselves from the protests of our parents. Predictably they had nearly swallowed their tongues when they saw us coming down the stairs. Mum looked aghast and Dad told us in no uncertain terms that we were not going out looking like we did. Claire told him in equally uncertain terms that we were indeed going out looking like this and that as we were adults, we were entirely free so to do. More protests and counter protests were lodged and I had been happy to keep out of it. Eventually a stand off ensued and we just grabbed our coats and left. I was worried what they would say when we got home, but Claire reminded me that it would be extremely unlikely that they would still be up by the time she imagined we would be getting home.

We were only fifteen minutes late when we pulled up outside Uncle Keith and Aunt Vera's house. I was hoping that the aforementioned relatives wouldn't be there, but of course they were. Aunt Vera opened the door and rolled her eyes when she saw us. She held the door open and beckoned us in. She turned and called up the stairs, "Dawn, two more floozies to join you in your indecency." Claire and I both had to try hard not to snigger. I smiled at Aunt Vera, "How are you?"

She sighed, "I don't know what the world is coming to. It's bad enough for girls to dress like this, let alone..." I got the drift, but she never got to finish her sentence as Dawn came whooping down the stairs. She was wearing a tight red dress, black hose and patent black leather high heels. She looked great and we told her so.

She gushed, "But look at you two! And you Nicola? Wow!"

Aunt Vera tutted and threw up her hands as she went into another room and closed the door.

Dawn giggled, "Mum's a little upset about my 'tasteless dress sense'."

I grinned wryly, "You should have seen the trouble we had getting out the door."

She nodded and gesturing to our fishnets, "I can see why. You two aren't pulling any punches tonight."

Claire grinned, "We're just looking to relax and have a good time. Where's Phil and co?"

Dawn shrugged, "Oh they are going to meet us there. Phil's away to pick up Adam and Brian. We'd better go. I said we would be there around 8:30."
 

*          *          *
 
There was quite a queue to get in and it was a chilly night. Especially the way I was dressed, so I was glad when we finally made it inside. It was busy, noisy, smoky and dark. I wasn't really used to such a social scene. Well unless I was playing a gig or something. Otherwise, I wouldn't really choose to go out to a place like this. But perhaps Claire and Dawn's enthusiasm was rubbing off on me a little as I decided to relax and enjoy myself. With the crowd, it seemed like we had no chance of finding Phil and his friends. Dawn astutely came up with the solution. She sent a text message to Adam and he promptly responded in like fashion to inform us they were holding a table in the far right back corner. We made our way in that direction and saw the three of them. Dawn went up to Adam and greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss. Claire grinned at Phil, said hi and then introduced herself to Brian. I walked over to Phil and smiled shyly. Suddenly I felt quite self-conscious. He was giving me a very strange look.

I sighed, "Phil are you still freaked out by me?"

He paused and smiled, "Well yes, but not in the way you think. I just can't get over how good you look. I mean, not just good, but..." His voice trailed off and he just shrugged.

I laughed nervously, "Well, you look pretty smart yourself." He did too. White shirt, black jeans - simple, but for a man, very effective. Nothing like the amount of effort I had had to go to, but I guess that came with the territory.

"Here sit down," he indicated to the seat next to him and I did so. He was sitting quite close to me. He continued, "Hey look, I want to apologise again for how I behaved last week."

"Think nothing of it," I said waving a hand.

"No seriously," he persisted, "I really feel bad. The last thing I want you to do is think I'm like the rest of the old fogies, all disapproving and all." He smiled at me, "When I look at you, I can't believe it's really you. I can barely see anything resembling the old you."

I felt more self-conscious and tried to cover it with a quip, "That's because you haven't taken your eyes off my breasts."

He laughed and looked my straight in the eyes, "Not quite true, but who could blame a man?" He hesitated and then with a look of curiosity asked, "Are they....?"

I stopped him, "Do you really want to ask me such a question?"

He laughed and shook his head, "I guess not. Doesn't matter. Look, do you want something to drink?"

"Err sure, I'd like a...."

He interrupted, "I'll pick something suitable for you." He asked the others if they wanted anything and headed off to the bar with our order. I sat back and looked around the table.

Claire spoke, "Brian, meet my sister Nicola. She might have got the better looks, but trust me hon I'm the one with the brains." She turned to me and winked, "Brian's going to be an architect."

I laughed, "Don't listen to my sister, it's false modesty. And did I mention that she's my older sister? But then she always liked the younger man."

Claire gasped in mock horror and gave me a playful slap, "Less of that little sister or I'll tell Mum on you later."

I smiled and actually spoke to Brian, "Hi Brian, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he said. He looked a bit overwhelmed and didn't seem to know what else to say.

Dawn giggled, "Nicola, this is Adam, my delicious boyfriend," she turned to Adam and waggled her finger, "and if I see you looking too much at my lovely cousin I'll get extremely jealous."

"Hi Nicola," he reached over with his hand.

I shook it, "Hi Adam, you're a brave man taking on my mad cousin."

He laughed, "Yes she needs some taming, but I figure I'm the man for the job."

"Hey!" Dawn protested and tried to tickle him, until he effortlessly caught both her wrists in one hand, and then kissed her.

Just then Phil arrived back, "We have drinks!" He set a tray down on the table with a little flourish and handed out the drinks. He gave me a tall glass filled with green liquid, "For the lovely lady."

I looked at it suspiciously, "What is it Phil?"

He looked at me dead pan, "You don't know? It's Vulcan blood."

I stuck my tongue out at him, "Geek!"

He laughed, "Look who's talking." I think he then realised how incongruous it was to call me a geek now. In the past, certainly it would have seemed entirely appropriate. He shrugged, "Anyway, it's actually vodka and lime." He saw me screw my nose up, "Hey try it and relax."

I shrugged and took a sip. I wasn't one for drinking much alcohol; it had never had that much appeal to me. I reckon my background and upbringing also had something to do with that. But it actually wasn't too bad. Not too bitter, quite tangy and with a bit of a bite to it. I took another sip. Phil sat down beside me again and we began to chat. I asked him about his course and his plans for jobs after he graduated in the summer. He asked me about my music deal and what my next steps would be. I was actually beginning to wind down and relax when Phil grabbed my hand and stood up, "Come on."

"Huh?" I said.

"Let's dance," he said as he smiled down at me, "Come on!"

I reluctantly stood up, "Phil, I don't know..."

"Well I do, come on and don't deny your favourite cousin a dance."

I grinned, "You want me to dance with Dawn?" The others at the table laughed.

He feigned wounded pride and I took pity on him, "Oh alright then, lead on." He grinned and led me to the dance floor.

I felt a little uncomfortable and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure you want to dance with me Phil, you know with me being, well you know..."

He turned to me and smiled and replied, "What? With you being the prettiest girl in the room? Course I want to dance with you."

I felt myself flush from head to toe and he laughed. We began to dance. It was a mixture of disco pop, dance and rock music. I was never much of a dancer before and although all I had done recently was ballroom dancing, it seemed to have helped with regard to my rhythm and fluidity of motion. I just relaxed and let my body move to the music. It came fairly easily, certainly a lot more easily that it had ever done on the few occasions when I was dragged up to dance in the past. I actually enjoyed it.

The tempo changed and Simply Red's 'If you don't know me by now' began to play. Immediately the couples on the dance floor moved closer and into each other's arms. Phil looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I smiled shyly and shrugged. He grinned and gently pulled me to himself. I tentatively put my arms around his neck and felt him slide his arms around my waist. We were very close as we began to sway to the music. I laughed nervously, "This is weird."

He nodded, "I know, totally weird."

I looked at him, "You don't feel uncomfortable?"

He smiled back at me, "Extremely so. Here I am dancing with my amazingly beautiful cousin. That would be fine, except for the past which we both know. And what makes me feel most uncomfortable is that I don't really care, that I want to be with you and close to you this evening."

"Wow," I murmured.

"How do you feel about it Nicola?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. To be honest, I guess I'd rather dance with you than anyone else here."

He nodded and grinned wryly, "But that's just because you feel more comfortable with me than a strange guy."

I wrinkled my forehead, "Well, perhaps. I suppose that's not the most flattering thing I could have said."

He laughed, "I don't care to be honest, because here I am holding you in my arms and am the focus of the jealousy of all the other guys in this place."

"Phil!" I remonstrated, "Don't exaggerate."

"You think I exaggerate? Have you not seen how the other guys are looking at you tonight?"

He was right. I had noticed but had been trying to ignore it. From the moment I had walked in, I had been aware of every guy I walked past looking me up and down and taking a second look. It made me feel strange. A mixture of pride and discomfort. After a few more slow numbers, we headed back to our table. Dawn and Adam were there. Claire and Brian were up dancing Dawn informed us.

"Don't they make a cute couple?" Dawn stirred.

I laughed, "Oh yes, has anyone warned poor unsuspecting Brian about my man-eating sister?"

Dawn shrugged and giggled, "Figured we'd let him work it out for himself."

Adam winked at Phil, "They aren't the only ones who made a cute couple."

Phil laughed and sounded a little nervous, "Nah, just enjoying a dance with my cousin you know."

Adam gave him a look that was easily understood as saying, 'yeah right'.

"Ahem," somebody cleared their throat just beside me. I looked up and a large man with short bleached blond hair and a goatee beard was standing there looking down at me.

"Erm, can I help you?" I asked.

"I would think so," he said with a grin which was more like a leer I thought. "Wanna dance love?"

I felt my skin crawl, "Err thanks for asking, but I don't think so." I turned away, but he wasn't going to give up so easily.

"Come on sweetie, let me show you a good time. You sure look like that's what you're after."

Phil bristled beside me and stood up, "Look mate, you heard the lady. She said she didn't want to dance."

He sneered at Phil, "Are you her boyfriend?"

Phil hesitated, "No, I'm her cousin."

"Then butt out, this is between me and the honey here."

Phil didn't look pleased, "Well she's made it plain she's not interested, so I suggest you look elsewhere."

The big oaf laughed, "You going to stop me if I don't?"

Another voice joined in from behind me, "Yes he is and so are we if you don't sod off." It was Brian who had just arrived back at the table and Adam was now standing up beside him.

Big oaf paused for a moment and swore, he looked down at me, "Your loss, but you're not worth the effort." He turned and swaggered off and I shivered involuntarily.

I looked around the table, "Thanks guys."

Various comments ensued about jerks, idiots and the like. I felt Phil's arm gently slip around me and rest on my shoulder. "You OK?" he murmured.

I didn't protest at his arm, in fact I found myself snuggling up to him. It felt safe and secure. "Yeah, I'm alright." I paused and then looked up at Phil, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure anything."

I grinned, "Want to be my boyfriend for the rest of the evening?"

He laughed, "Do I ever! Sure thing, but I want to you to know that I'm the jealous sort and wouldn't take kindly to you dancing with other guys."

I shrugged, "Phil to be honest I think I'd be happy to only dance with you tonight anyway."

He sighed, "Well, it'll be a hard burden, but I guess I'll manage it somehow."

"Nicola, Nicola!" Claire exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh oh, listen to what they're announcing; they're going to do some karaoke now."

"Eww, this should be painful to listen to," I grimaced.

Claire smiled, "Yes, but that's not what I was getting at. You should get up and sing."

I laughed, "I don't think so."

"No seriously, you should," Dawn joined in. She turned to Adam and Brian, "Did you know my cousin Nicola is going to be a rock star?"

They looked mildly impressed and joined in the encouragements to get up. I sighed, "OK, OK. But here's the deal. Let a lot of others go up first." I grinned, "I want to check out the competition, and then if I am going up, I'm taking my two backing singers with me." I looked pointedly at Claire and Dawn. They didn't look so enthusiastic now, but the boys were definitely sold on the idea.

Claire screwed up her face, "Alright, deal. But what are we going to sing?"

Brian went and grabbed one of the song lists that were circulating about and brought it back to our table. He gave it to me and I scanned it looking for what I thought might be there. It was. "OK girls, I've got us our song, 'Show me heaven'"

Claire and Dawn looked at each other, and Dawn nodded, "Fair enough, but what are us backing singers going to do...apart from stand there and look pretty?" She batted her eyelids a few times.

I laughed, "OK, rehearsal in the ladies' room, excuse us for a moment gentlemen."

There were a few other girls in the ladies and we decided to squeeze into one cubicle, despite the few funny looks we attracted. I talked them through the song, I knew it by heart of course. I sang the backing lines they were to sing in the chorus and got them to sing them back to me. We did it again and again a few times until they really had the hang of it. I actually began to get a little excited. It had been a long time since I had performed in public and although this didn't exactly qualify as a starring role, it was live singing nonetheless. Before we left the ladies' room, we all touched up our make up and then headed out.

Claire went up to the DJ and added our names to the list. We sat down at the table again and I asked, "Claire what did you call us?"

She grinned, "You'll find out soon enough."

Before long the DJ announced, "And now singing 'Show me heaven' are Cara Malone and Co."

I rolled my eyes and Claire briefly explained the name to Dawn and the boys as we got up and made our way onto the stage. As we turned and stood in front of our microphones there was a chorus of wolf whistles and cheers. I thought it would have been intimidating, but it produced an adrenaline rush and I smiled to the crowd as the music began. As I began to sing, the noise decreased until there was near silence apart from the music and my singing. The song built into the first chorus and the girls joined in their harmonies. I felt the old rush of blood to the head and I cradled the microphone in my hand, and closed my eyes as I sang the all too familiar words. We all really belted out the final chorus and as the music finished I said, "Thank you, good night," and blew the crowd a kiss. There was a caterwaul of cheering and whistling and we laughed as we waved and left the stage.

"Well now," said the DJ a little hesitantly, "Tell me, is there anyone in the building who wants to get up and sing to follow that?" No-one was offering. "As I thought," he continued, "and rightly so, let's hear it for Cara Malone and Co. and let's get back to some dancing." As we made our way back to our table, people applauded and waved at us.

"You're amazing," Phil murmured into my ear.

I laughed, "We just sounded good because those that had sung before us were the usual woeful complement of people who think they can sing once they have had a few drinks in them."

"No seriously," he said, "you're really going to make it aren't you?"

I looked at him thoughtfully, "I'm planning to do my best. I hope so."

He grinned, "Well I'll buy your album when it comes out."

I laughed, "I should hope so, if my 'boyfriend' doesn't buy it, who will?"

He smiled and stood up pulling me to my feet, "Come on 'girlfriend' of mine, let's dance some more."

I didn't protest as we walked onto the dance floor arm in arm. It was slow dances again and it didn't feel as uncomfortable this time. We chatted and swayed. After several more songs, I realised that my feet were beginning to hurt. I mentioned this to Phil and we headed back to the table. When we got there, we found Dawn and Adam locked in a close embrace, but to my surprise my sister and Brian were also engaged in the same practice. I don't think either couple even noticed us arriving back.

I sat down beside Phil and joked, "Dang, I feel kinda left out."

He grinned at me and winked, "What? My 'girlfriend' isn't going to kiss me on New Year's Eve?"

I laughed, "You watch yourself, any more talk like that and I'll jump onto your lap and teach you what a proper kiss is."

"Is that a threat or a promise," he said cocking his head as if challenging me.

"You think I wouldn't?" I said as if daring him to agree.

"Yes I think you wouldn't."

I don't know what made me do what I did next. Perhaps it was the two or three vodka and lime drinks I'd consumed that evening, perhaps it was the high of singing and the response we'd received, perhaps it was because of the closeness we had enjoyed that evening. I made good on my threat or promise or whatever it was. I slipped onto Phil's lap, slid my arms around his neck and lowered my lips to his and gave him a soft kiss. I suddenly realised what I had done and sat up straight, "Phil, I'm sorry. I was just being silly."

He looked at me strangely and softly said, "Were you?"

I looked at him closely, "You want me to kiss you?"

His eyes didn't leave mine, "I know it seems weird. I know we're cousins and the past and all. I'm probably not thinking straight at all, but here I am with possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and tonight she's pretending to be my girlfriend. Do I want you to kiss me?" He paused and smiled, "Oh yes."

I hesitated and looked at him. Again I don't know why I did it, but I lowered my lips to his again and kissed him again. This time he slid his arms around me and pulled me closer to him and he kissed me back. It wasn't long before things became a bit passionate and I felt him slide his tongue inside my mouth. I should have resisted, but I didn't. I don't know how long we kissed for, but we had an audience when we finally broke for air. Dawn and Adam, Claire and Brian had all apparently stopped their own romantic activities and had been watching us. I felt very embarrassed and wiped my lipstick from Phil's face and slid off his lap onto my own chair. Their eyes were still on us. "What?" I said spreading my hands, "You were all at it too."

Dawn screwed her nose up, "But...you're cousins."

I shrugged, "Cousins isn't illegal."

She said something but her reply was drowned in the noise of the countdown to midnight that had just begun.

"7...6...5...4...3...2...1...Happy new year everyone! Welcome to 2003!"

The obligatory singing began and we all joined hands around the table and sang, "...For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne."

We all began to chat around the table again and I was glad for the distraction. "Sorry," I murmured to Phil.

"What for? I'm not sorry," he replied.

"Well I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything."

"Look Nicola, I'm not embarrassed. I've had the best New Year's Eve I've had in a long time. I've no pretences about what took place. I had a great time, I hope you did too."

I smiled and squeezed his hand under the table, "I did. I really did."
 

*          *          *
 
"What did you think you were doing?" Claire asked exasperatedly.

We had driven in silence for about half an hour after saying our goodbyes outside the club. I knew she was steaming and had just resigned myself to waiting for her to vent.

I shrugged, "I wasn't doing anything different from anyone else who was there."

"The hell you weren't! He's your cousin."

I was getting a bit narked, "OK, say last New Year's Eve we had gone out and I had ended up kissing Dawn, would you have been so annoyed?"

She paused, "That's different..."

I interrupted, "How is it different, she is my cousin. That was your objection, no?"

"But Phil is, well he is a guy."

"And?"

"And so are you," she replied without thinking.

I let the answer hang there in the air for a few moments. "I see," I said softly.

Claire realised what she had said, "Nicola, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"Oh I don't know," she said with frustration, "it just didn't seem right."

I nodded, "I know. I agree. But I don't know what is right or what is wrong. Would it have been right if I had found a pretty girl and kissed her tonight? I imagine not. Claire I'm confused about all this. I don't know what I feel or think. I guess I wasn't thinking tonight."

She sighed, "I'm sorry for going off at you. I reckon I'm not as adjusted to your change as I thought I was."

"I know," I mused, "at times I feel that way too."

She went on, "But I think you need to sort out what you think, because not every guy is going to be as decent or understanding as cousin Phil. Think about it, if you kiss a guy, he's going to be hoping it leads to a lot more. What if they find out what you're packing under your skirt?"

I winced, but she was right. "I know, I know. It's just all so overwhelming. I mean, I felt really sexy tonight." I took a long, deep breath, "I think I'm going to have to control myself better until I can sort things out."

We drove in silence for most of the rest of the journey. When we were nearing home I said, "Claire, have you any plans for tomorrow?"

"Apart from sleeping in until lunchtime, no. Why?"

I shrugged, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I think I need a favour."

---

 

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

---

 
 
Chapter 13
 
 
I spent most of the morning in bed and didn't feel too good about myself when I finally did surface. Claire was right. I was going to have to sort out what I felt. Easier said than done. At the very least, I was going to have to learn better self control. I felt really foolish when I thought about how I had behaved. I could make a lot of excuses: alcohol, the atmosphere, whatever. But it still came down to me not thinking through what I was doing. I couldn't afford to get into another situation like that. First Paul, now Phil. I had to be careful.

I dressed simply in a beige sweater and my blue jeans. Minimal makeup. After last night, I knew I needed to tone it down. For my parents sake, but also for my own. I found Claire at the kitchen table eating breakfast. I checked the kitchen clock, it was just after midday. I joined her and poured a bowl of cereal.

"Claire," I began hesitantly, "about last night, you were totally right. I acted stupidly and I feel really embarrassed now. I'm going to try and catch myself on and think a lot more before acting in future."

She waved a hand at me, "Hey, it's really none of my business and I probably said too much last night." She paused, "But I do worry for you. I mean you've gone from being, how can I put it...," she wrinkled her nose.

I grinned, "Say whatever you were going to say."

She shrugged, "You've gone from being Mr. Average to almost overnight becoming the object of every red blooded male's fantasy. The rest of us girls have had a lifetime of getting used to dealing with male interest. You haven't."

I nodded, "I've a lot of catching up to do and quick."

She grinned, "Especially if you're going to be strutting your stuff before the world of teenage males on Top of the Pops."

I laughed, "A long way to go before that."

She shook her head, "I don't think it will be that long." She smiled, "I saw you on that stage last night. The way you sang, the way you performed."

I laughed self consciously, "Now stop that or I'll blush." I decided to change the subject, "Where are Mum and Dad?"

Claire grimaced, "They left about 20 minutes ago. Good timing you! They are away to visit some old friends for the day."

I grinned, "Did they give you a hard time?"

She rolled her eyes, "Did they ever! I got another mini lecture about how I should know better and not be encouraging you in such ways. They asked about what happened last night."

"And you said?"

Claire shrugged and took another mouthful of cereal, "I said you danced and sang on stage like a tramp and then jumped on Phil and snogged the face off him."

For a moment she had me, "No..."

She grinned, "I told them we chatted and danced and had a quiet night. You planning on telling them anything different."

I chuckled, "What like, you mean about...Brian?"

She sniggered and waved her spoon at me, "He's a nice guy, but I doubt anything will come of it."

I played the concerned sister, "Claire really at your age you should be thinking of settling down and not going for one night gratification with young men."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed and changed the subject yet again. "So, you're free this afternoon," I asked.

She nodded, "What are you planning?"

I shrugged, "Might be a long shot, but how you do fancy driving me to Pembroke?"

She set her spoon down, "Pembroke? Are you serious? What's this about, you want to take a walk down memory lane, the old homestead? Come on, it's like a hundred miles away."

I nodded, "I know that. It's a loose end that I think I need to tie up."

She looked puzzled, "What on earth is it?"

I paused, "Look Claire, I've got new ID documents and all in the name of Nicola Evans. I'm not supposed to tell you that and I can't tell you how I got them so don't ask."

Claire nodded, "That morning you and Dad went out." She was sharp.

I shrugged, "I can't say alright? But basically, there won't be much official trace of Nick Evans. Which obviously if Cara Malone makes it onto Top of the Pops as you say, will be very important. But there is a major loophole remaining."

Claire nodded and clicked her fingers, "Your old school record."

I sighed, "You're too darn smart, always have been and it really irritates me sometimes."

She grinned, "Anyways, go on then and tell me what you are thinking. Please tell me that we aren't going to break into the school and falsify your records?"

I laughed, "That is plan B. But hopefully plan A will work out."

She drummed her fingers on the table with frustration, "Come on, out with it and tell me what you are planning."

I nodded, "OK, well I was thinking about how to go about this. I don't want to break in obviously. So I need someone who will change the records for me."

Claire narrowed her eyes, "Who on earth would do that?"

"Mrs. Forbes."

"Mrs. Forbes," Claire repeated thoughtfully, "You think she would do it?"

Mrs. Forbes was the music teacher at Pembroke High. She had always encouraged me to pursue my talent and my dreams, she had always been a support and help to me at school. Before I left school she told me she would be watching out for my name to appear in the headlines sometime in the future and made me promise to keep in touch. I had broken the promise. "Yes, well I think she might help me. And I heard she was made Vice-Principal so she should have access to the records. I don't know what else to try."

Claire nodded and looked thoughtful, "And you think you really need to do this?"

I shrugged, "I would hope not. If someone goes to such lengths looking into my past, this probably isn't even enough. But I don't know if I can leave it to chance."

She nodded and mused, "Yes, I guess this would be a tabloid newspaper's dream. Well have you at least spoken to Mrs. Forbes?"

I shook my head, "I looked up the phone number in the directory but haven't phoned yet. I wanted to check if you could run me down there today if needed."

She sighed, "The things I do for my sister. Go phone because if we are going down there, we should get going sooner rather than later."

I did as I was bid and grabbed the phone to take it into the next room. I dialled the number I had written down. Of course she might not be there; it was New Year's Day after all. Would she remember me? The phone was answered at the other end.

"Hello?" It was Mrs. Forbes. Oh crap, think Nick's voice.

"Err, hello Mrs. Forbes?"

"Yes, who is that?"

"Umm, you may not remember me, this is Nick Evans."

"Nicholas! Of course I remember. Why this is a surprise."

"Yes, sorry to phone out of the blue like this, but I well, sort of need a favour."

She sounded puzzled, "Oh? What is it?"

I paused, "I know this sounds really strange, but I would rather talk about it face to face. You still work in the school?"

"Yes. Are you alright? You sound a little strange."

"Yes I'm fine. But I do need to talk to you. Today. If that's OK?"

A little pause, "Well alright. I'm not going anywhere. Do you know where I live?"

She gave me the address and I wrote it down. I figured I had better say a little more before turning up. "I'll be coming with my sister Claire, you may remember her. But just to let you know, I'm quite different now to how you remember me."

She was really confused now, "Are you sure you are alright Nick?"

"Yes I'm sure. I'll explain everything when we get there. We should be there in about two and a half hours."
 

*          *          *
 
It was a long tedious drive and I got the impression that Claire was not exactly overjoyed at being my chauffeur. Or chauffeuse? I wondered if that was a word or not. It was very strange to eventually drive back into our old home town. I hadn't been there since my parents moved to Cardiff three years ago. I had had no reason to return. Until now. We pulled up outside Mrs. Forbes semi-detached house and got out.

As I walked up the path, I realised that I was taking a bit of a chance. Mrs. Forbes would be another person to be added to 'the list'. I wondered what Jools would think of what I was doing and I realised I maybe should have given her a ring to at least tell her what I was planning. Too late now. I pressed the doorbell.

The door opened. "Hello?" Mrs. Forbes said without much evidence of recognition of Claire or myself. Then something clicked. She looked at Claire, "Oh I remember you, you are Claire Evans aren't you? But where is Nick then?"

She looked at me and I smiled sheepishly, "Hi Mrs. Forbes."

I got the wide-eyed astonished 'it can't be' look which I was getting quite familiar with. "Nick?" she gasped.

I smiled nervously, "Well it's sort of Nicola now."

She looked flustered, "Y-you'd better come in."

She told us to wait in the hallway for a moment and she went in and shooed her husband out the other door into the kitchen. She brought us in and we sat down. She apologised, "Sorry, but Cecil would find this even stranger to take in than me. Now what has happened to you?"

I grinned, "Where do I start? Well as you can see, I'm not living as Nick anymore, I've sort of had a major life change." I went on to explain a little about how my life had been going and how I felt now. I wanted to give her some background, but I didn't say anything about my music yet.

She listened and to her credit seemed to be trying to understand, "This is really quite incredible. I would not have recognised you at all. But I'm still at a loss to see where I fit in to this."

I nodded, "I've got a recording contract with Sony Music."

She took this in, "As Nicola I presume?"

"Well as Cara Malone. Stage name you know. But yes, as a female."

She nodded, "So you didn't make it as Nick ever?"

I shook my head and she continued, "You were one of the most gifted students I had ever taught. I really did think you would succeed."

I smiled, "I think I might be about to." I looked over at her piano, "May I show you?"

She smiled warmly, "Please do."

I sat down at the piano and pondered over which song to sing. Which would she appreciate most? I decided on 'Not dancing, but flying' as it was a piano driven soft ballad. I played the song and sang with as much feeling as I could muster.

"And whenever I will think or dream of you, we're not dancing, but flying."

I swivelled round on the stool and looked at her for her reaction. She clapped her hands, "Amazing. You've an even better voice now than you had before." She winked, "But you hit a B flat there instead of B in the third verse."

I laughed, "I blame you for some of my perfectionist tendencies you know."

The atmosphere was a little more relaxed now. Music had always been a strong bond between me and Mrs. Forbes. Most people have one teacher that has a major influence on them and she was mine.

"But you didn't come down here all this way just for me to tell you how good you are did you?" she asked.

I shook my head, "No. As you can imagine, no-one knows, well very few people know that Cara Malone was once Nick Evans. And as I am sure you can appreciate, it wouldn't exactly be helpful for this to come out. If I do succeed that is."

"Go on Nicola, tell me why you've come," she gently urged.

I sighed, "I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you would be able to help me to get my school records changed from a male Nicholas to a female Nicola."

She nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "I was beginning to think it would be something like this. This is a lot to ask you know."

I nodded, "I know, I'm really sorry to have to do it, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it. Well apart from breaking in, but Claire talked me out of that. I was just thinking that you know as you were Vice-Principal that you might be able to do this."

She smiled a strange smile, "Nic-ola, didn't you hear? I'm not the VP anymore."

My face fell and I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach, "Oh." I sighed, "I really should have asked before I came all this way."

She gave a little chuckle, "It's alright. No, I'm not the VP. Nic-ola dear, I was made Principal of Pembroke High nine months ago."

I looked up at her and saw her wry grin. I didn't know what to think or hope. "Erm, does that mean you'll do it?"

She looked intently at me, "It means I could do it, but I'm not sure if I should. Falsifying records? If it were found out, I could in theory be dismissed."

I nodded. She was right of course. What right had I to ask her to put herself at risk. But then it came to me and I clicked my fingers, "What if I could give you irrefutable proof that you hadn't falsified the records?"

She looked at me curiously, "What are you talking about?"

"What if your 'amended' records simply agreed with my legal identity? Mrs. Forbes, I shouldn't say too much about this, but let's just say that if anyone viewed my passport or birth certificate, or checked any centrally stored government records, what they would find would be in accordance with what I am asking you to change my records to. So if there were any comeback on it, the school records would simply match my legal documents."

She pondered this and slowly nodded. "I see what you mean. I want to help you, so I'll do this." She paused, "Are you sure about what you are doing? I mean this is a drastic change."

I smiled and nodded, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some doubts or fears. But the thought of going back to my life the way it was is something I can barely conceive. So, I'm fairly sure, not completely sure. But are we ever completely sure of anything?"

She nodded, "Fair point. Alright well it seems as if Nicola Evans is going to become the most gifted student I ever had."

"Mrs. Forbes, will anyone else at the school find out about this?"

She shrugged, "Past pupil records are only accessed if a specific request comes in. Like from an employer wanting a report of conduct, confirmation of exam results and the like. There is no other reason for anyone to look them up."

I nodded, "I really appreciate this. Thank you so much. I know I probably don't have to say it, but can you keep all this to yourself?"

She winked, "I was planning on telling Mr. Harkins."

I laughed and winced all at the same time. Mr. Harkins was the Physical Education teacher who had tried unsuccessfully to engage my interest in some form of sport. Whereas I had spent my time making excuses to head off to the music department. I grinned, "Well if you do, tell him I am running and working out most mornings now. More than I ever did."

She raised an eyebrow and looked at me, "Well it certainly looks like you do."

I thanked her again and we left. We got into the car and we both groaned at the prospect of the long drive back to Cardiff. Mum and Dad were there when we got back. I received a few comments along the lines of them being glad to see me dressed more modestly. When they asked us where we had been, I evaded a direct answer and told them we had been to see an old friend.
 

*          *          *
 
I was up early the next morning and didn't even have time for a run. Claire had to leave early to get back to Bristol for work. I had decided to hitch a lift with her and then get the bus back down to London. I had initially planned to stay until the end of the weekend. But I was beginning to itch to get back to the city and get on with things. I had in a strange way enjoyed the time I had spent at home and I knew it had been worthwhile, although extremely difficult. However it was time to move on. There was a band to find and songs to write. Dad was heading back into work again today and Mum was up to ensure we all had a hearty breakfast before going our separate ways. I had all my things packed and wore my black velvet top and denim skirt with my long black leather boots.

As we were about to leave I said my goodbyes. I gave Mum a hug and was surprised by the strength of the return hug she gave me. She looked at me closely, "Now you take care of yourself. Be sensible and don't do anything stupid."

My father harrumphed, "You mean don't do anything ELSE stupid."

I forced a smile, "Bye Dad." I didn't know whether to hug him or not. We both stood there awkwardly and from the look on his face, he didn't look overly receptive to or desiring of prolonged displays of affection.

"Keep in touch," Mum said.

"I will," I promised.

"Love you both," she called after us.

"Love you too," Claire and I chorused.

We got in the car and Claire chuckled. "What is it?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Just thinking, if I ever lose my job, at least I know what my next job could be."

"OK go on, tell me."

She grinned and winked, "Chauffeuring Cara Malone. I've certainly had enough experience of it."

I pouted and gave her a playful slap. The roads were fairly empty this early in the morning but as we approached Bristol, the morning traffic was beginning to build. Claire pulled up outside the bus station where I had arrived on my way to her house only ten days previously. It seemed like almost a lifetime ago. She helped me lift my suitcase from the boot of the car and we stood there looking at each other.

She grinned, "Come here you." We hugged fiercely.

"Thanks Claire," I murmured, "Thanks for everything. You're the best."

She laughed, "I don't know about that." She became serious, "You know Mum was right. You need to be careful. You'll not always have your big sister there to look out for you."

I nodded, "I know. I'll give you a ring in the next few days."

We said our goodbyes and I went in and bought my ticket. As the bus pulled out for the trip to London, I began to muse over the happenings of the last week or so. It had been emotionally draining. I examined myself, metaphorically speaking, to see whether I was less or more certain of what I was doing in the light of all that had taken place. I guess it was six of one and half a dozen of another. I was certain that what I was doing was right. I was sure that it was what I wanted. What I think I had realised though was that although I could look, walk and talk like a woman, I had a lot to learn about surviving as a woman in the world outside. In the first few weeks, I nearly always had Jools and Beth there to support and help me. The last week or so, I had had Claire. Could I cope without such support? I didn't know and the thought was a disconcerting one. I would have to find out.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

---

 
 
Chapter 14
 
 
It was mid afternoon by the time the taxi left me off outside Jools' apartment. I wearily lugged my suitcase inside and up the stairs. I didn't expect anyone to be there. Jools had said she wasn't planning on coming back up from Devon until the weekend. I set my suitcase down at the top of the stairs and nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Cara!!" Jools squealed and came bounding across the room towards me and nearly bowled me over as she grabbed me and bear hugged me.

"Ummph!" I murmured. She eased up a bit, "Heya Jools, you nearly scared me to death there. I thought you weren't coming up until the weekend?"

She stepped back, pushed the hair out of her eyes and shrugged, "I was getting bored and wanted to get back up here. Lots of things to sort out and plans to make and all you know. And sure you said you weren't coming back up 'til the start of next week."

I grinned, "I guess I felt pretty much the same as you. Plus I had had enough of being at home. It was getting kind of restrictive."

"You'll have to tell me all about it," she insisted. And we made some coffee and sat down on the sofa. I told her all about the past ten days or so. She wouldn't let me leave anything out. Although I did leave out my shameful behaviour with Phil. We chatted for a few hours and she told me about her Christmas at home. Her parents had arrived in for a surprise visit. Which apparently was good, but then got bad as the trials of living with ones parents began to wear on both Jools and Beth. I could sympathise. We made ourselves a bite of tea. It was a freezer to microwave to plate job, but we were happy enough. After tea, it was down to business.

"Right Cara, I've been thinking about so many things."

"No kidding," I teased.

She grinned and shushed me, "The first major problem is your ID. I have racked my brains and done some research on this. You can change your name by a thing called a deed poll, but the problem is that to change your ID documents, you have to show evidence of your changed name. This could be a link to the past that could be exploited."

As she told me all this, I couldn't help but sit there with a smug grin on my face. Eventually she could stand it no more, "Cara! This is important you know."

I raised a hand and without saying a word, went over to my suitcase which was still standing just inside the door. I opened it and took out a brown envelope. I also brought my hand bag over and took out my driver's licence and National Insurance number card. I handed these and the envelope to Jools.

"What's this?" she said suspiciously.

"Look at them."

She did so. She marvelled at the driver's licence, "Nicola Evans? Where did you get this?"

"Look in the envelope too."

She pulled out the passport and my birth certificate. "My goodness, how on earth did you do this?"

I grinned, "Impressive isn't it? I can't tell you the details, but let's say that having a father in the legal business came in handy."

She was dying to know all the details, but I refused to tell her. She eventually got the message. "Well, will there be any record of this?" she asked.

I shook my head. "It's as if Nick Evans never existed," as I said this, I felt a little pang somewhere deep inside. Nick Evans hadn't been a bad guy and I would miss parts of him. I shook my head to clear such silly nostalgia and brought my mind back to the present.

"What's wrong?" Jools asked softly having noticed some reticence in my expression. I shrugged and she went on, "Difficulties adjusting?"

I nodded, "Something like that I guess."

She looked at the documents again, "Wow, this is totally amazing. Is that everything sewn up then in this regard?"

I went on to tell her about my visit to Mrs. Forbes and told her how things had gone. She was a little unsure at first, but when I assured her that we could trust Mrs. Forbes she was happier. She agreed that it made sense, but like me hoped that we were being extra paranoid.

She waved my driving licence in the air, "This means you can drive again."

"Not yet," I said shaking my head.

"Why not?"

I grinned, "I have to go buy a car first."

"Uh huh? Got something in mind?"

I grinned. I did.
 

*          *          *
 
"Are you serious?" Jools whispered to me.

"Who wouldn't be?" I murmured as I ran my hand over the sleek contours of the car, "I've always wanted one of these."

She giggled, "There's still some male left in you obviously."

I winked, "Believe it honey."

Just then the salesman came over to us. He was dressed in the stereotypical slick business suit and the manner to match it. "Afternoon ladies, now I'm all yours, how can I be of assistance? I'm Dave Kingston."

I smiled, "Hi Dave, I'm Cara and I'm thinking of buying a car."

He smiled at me and I spotted his eyes doing the usual up and down. To be fair, I hadn't exactly dressed the most modestly today and that was quite deliberate. I was wearing a smart black jacket and skirt suit. The skirt was as you might expect, not the longest. With my black stockings and high heels, I knew I was creating the desired effect.

"Well Cara, you've come to the right place. Are you interested in the MGF?" he gestured to the convertible beside us.

I blinked a few times and smiled, "Who wouldn't be?"

He laughed, "I can just picture you driving it. Do you want to test drive it?"

I nodded, "Would that be OK?"

"Oh most definitely," he turned to Jools, I'm afraid there isn't much of a back seat, and I have to go on any test drives so..."

Jools got the message. She shrugged, "Oh I'll just wait here."

We drove out of the lot and I turned right. I had always fancied having an MGF convertible. Sleek and sporty, fast and fun. It was a sexy car. The engine purred and responded fantastically as I depressed the accelerator. I was aware of Dave glancing over at my legs. My skirt had ridden up a little as I had changed gears. Let him look. I was unashamedly doing the thing that all females had done for many years: using their sexuality to help them get what they want.

We got out back at the showroom. "Well what did you think?" asked Dave.

I nodded and shrugged, "I like it." I sighed wistfully, "I really do and I've always wanted one, but to be honest, I don't think I can afford it at  £15,499. But thanks for letting me test drive it. Maybe one day."

I half-turned away but he called me back. I smothered my grin. "Yes?"

He smiled affably and spread his hands, "Look, let me see what I can do for you. A pretty lady like you deserves such a car."

I looked down and feigned embarrassment, "You're flattering me Dave."

He laughed, "Oh not at all. Let me go and check with the boss."

I smiled sweetly, "Thanks."

He went into an office. Jools hissed at me, "You're not even giving him a chance. He'll be offering to buy it for you next." I grinned.

He came back and smiled, "Look, the best I could do for you would be to give it to you for  £15,000. Best I can do."

I nodded and smiled, "Great, I'll take it."

He looked slightly taken aback at my swift response, but I had known I was going to take it when I walked in. "Uhh, ok. Do you need a finance loan?"

I shook my head, "I'll bring a cheque for the full amount when it's ready."

Now he looked even more perplexed. "Oh alright, well great then."

We left. My new car would be ready in about 2 weeks. I had ordered a metallic silver colour. "Are you sure you've spent enough on your car?" Jools asked.

I grinned, "We've just landed a 100k advance and you think I can't afford it? Don't worry Jools, I'm not going to go out and become a spoilt rock star bitch. Well not immediately. But I always wanted a really nice car. I need a car right now, so why not buy what I want?"

She grinned, "I guess. We're going to need to talk about finance and money I see."

I laughed, "Yeah, but not today. Come on and let me buy you some dinner, I'm starved."
 

*          *          *
 
We sat over coffee the next morning and began to discuss the band. "Have you any thoughts in mind?" Jools asked.

I nodded, "Well one thought anyway."

"Who?"

"Jon Peters."

Jools nodded slowly, "Of course. Yes. But isn't he in a band at the moment? I think I even heard they were doing quite well."

I nodded, "Yes, but the last time I was talking to him, well a month or two ago, I got the impression he wasn't exactly happy. A few interpersonal difficulties within the band."

Jools raised an eyebrow, "Really?" She loved music gossip.

I nodded, "Yes. I think 'smelly drunken slobs' was how Jon described them."

Jon Peters. Possibly the best undiscovered lead guitarist talent in the country. OK, I was probably biased. We'd first met at high school, but his family moved to Bangor in North Wales when we were fifteen years old. We'd jammed a bit back in school, but had lost touch after he moved. We bumped into each other at a gig in a South London club three years ago. Like me, he'd moved to London after leaving school and was trying to make it. He'd been through series of bands that had got nowhere. Our musical tastes were very similar and we had tried to get a band going together. We'd done a few gigs together, him on guitar, me on piano and vocals. The music had been good, but the spark was missing. We'd given up and both moved on to other things after about six months of going nowhere. Every so often, he'd come over to my place or vice versa, we'd have a jamming session, chat, swap stories of repeated failures and the like. I hadn't seen him for a few months. He'd been touring somewhere in the North of England with this new band. They seemed to be getting a name for themselves, but he didn't seem to be enjoying it.

Jools interrupted my reverie, "So you think he would be interested?"

I shrugged, "Hope so."

She regarded me thoughtfully, "Are you planning on telling him?"

"Hmm?" I asked.

"You know what I mean."

I sighed. I nodded slowly, "I think so. Well not initially. If he wasn't interested, there would be no point telling him, but I guess if he agreed I'd have to tell him."

"How would he react?"

I shook my head, "I have no idea."

"You're sure about this?"

"Jools, you've heard him. He's the best around."

She nodded, "Granted. But you two tried it before and nothing happened."

"Jools I tried lots of things before and nothing happened. Things seem to be happening now; I think it could be different. Jon is a genius, he can make a song come alive. I think he is what we need to add an extra dimension to the music."

"OK, so how do you want to do this?"

I thought. "Well you'll have to ring him. He'll remember you. Tell him you have an opening, see if he is interested."

"What if he says no? What if he says he's in a band right now?"

I grinned, "Jools, you're extremely persuasive. As I sit here like this with you now I am a living testament to that fact. Tell him to come, meet me, hear the music, jam for an afternoon. No strings attached. No commitment."

She nodded, "OK. When?"

"As soon as possible, we need to get moving on this."
 

*          *          *
 
Jools had managed to track Jon down sometime the next afternoon. He was initially reluctant. He said he was sort of in a band at the moment. Jools seized the opportunity hinted at by his vagueness and persuaded him to come over the following afternoon. He wasn't overly thrilled when he heard it was a female artist he was coming to play with. I knew Jon had always fancied himself as the lead guitarist in a high octane male rock band. But I hoped he would see past that and realise the opportunity here.

Monday came and we were going to set up and play in the back room behind Jools' office below the apartment. I couldn't believe how nervous I felt as the time drew closer. I wasn't keen on having any lunch and I think Jools sensed my apprehension. "Hey relax, after what you've come through up to now, this shouldn't be a problem."

She was right. But try telling that to my stomach. I grinned, "I know. I'll just go and make myself presentable." I put on a beige blouse and my denim skirt and long boots. I checked my makeup and touched it up. I gave my hair one last good brush. I looked good. But I still felt nervous. We had decided that Jools would wait downstairs and meet Jon. She was going to tell him a bit about me. Leaving out the 'who I used to be' part. She was quite clear that she was not going to tell him that; that was up to me later. She would tell him about the recording contract and sing my praises a bit. Then she'd call me down and we'd meet, chat and I'd play some of the songs and take it from there.

I heard the doorbell and heard her welcome him in. I forced to myself to sit on the sofa and not pace up and down. After what felt like hours, but was actually only twenty minutes when I checked the clock, Jools called up the stairs to me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself before walking down and heading through to the back room.

Jon was standing there looking sort of awkward, leaning up against one of the walls. I walked in and smiled shyly, "Hi."

His eyes brightened when he saw me, "Uhh hi. Cara? I'm Jon Peters." He pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps over to where I was and held out his hand.

I shook his hand, "Thanks Jon for coming over. I've, uhh, heard a lot of good things about your playing." I was consciously trying to suppress my Welsh accent as the last thing I wanted right now was a conversation about where I came from.

He shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable. That was the funny thing with Jon: like all lead guitarists he had the ego to match and wanted to be the absolute best. But when you complimented him he came over all sort of shy. "I've heard a lot about you too...well in the last few minutes. I hadn't heard of you before Julie phoned though to be honest," he said apologetically.

I shrugged, "I wouldn't have expected you to."

There was an awkward pause and Jools cleared her throat, "Look Cara why don't you play Jon some of your material and see what he thinks."

He shifted awkwardly and began hesitantly, "Look I don't know if I'm wasting your time here. I'm like in a band at the moment and I'm not really looking for anything else right now."

Jools smiled her diplomatic smile, "We're not doing anything else this afternoon. At least listen, maybe play along and give us some constructive feedback."

He smiled and shrugged, "OK." He resumed his leaning against the wall posture.

I went over to the keyboard and made sure the mike was at the right height. I took a moment to compose myself and then launched into 'Nine years old again'. I poured all my nervous energy into my performance: playing and vocals. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I was worried that he was going to recognise me and ask me what the hell I was doing. I moved on into 'Not dancing, but flying' and closed my eyes as I put as much feeling into it as possible. By now, I was loosening up a little and looked over at Jon. He smiled. He didn't look bored, in fact he looked quite interested. I grabbed my guitar and raised the mic stand. I got the sequencer ready. I had some backing tracks, drums, bass and keyboards, to give the remaining songs a stronger foundation.

I started the sequencer and led into 'Living life in colour'. This was more Jon's style, a good rocky number. I made myself focus my gaze on him and directed the performance at him. I noticed his foot tapping as the upbeat chorus kicked in. His eyes flicked between my face and my left hand. He was reading the chords.

I moved straight into the heavier rockier feel of 'No half measures' and I really belted it out. He was now smiling openly and nodding. Again he was following my chord changes and I could see him half closing his eyes as if playing out a riff in his head. I wasn't far off the mark. When the song finished he bent down, opened his guitar case and lifted out his pride and joy. A vintage 1972 Gibson Les Paul guitar. No-one but no-one was allowed to touch, let alone play his guitar. He was obsessional about it.

"Nice guitar," I remarked.

He grinned and looked for all the world like a proud father who has just watched his son run the egg and spoon race at the school sports day. "Uhh thanks. Listen, can you play that last song again and mind if I join in. Nice feel to it."

I nodded, "Sure. It's in G." I knew rightly he was well aware of the key.

He grinned, "I know. Don't worry, I'll pick it up as we go along." He plugged his guitar into the amp and checked the sound. He fiddled with the treble and bass until he was happy with the sound.

I counted us in and restarted the sequencer. I began the verse and heard Jon play some low distorted chords. As the chorus began, he added little solo riffs between each line. I grinned over at him and he gave me a half-smile. By the second chorus he built up the riffs into more frenetic runs. Instead of singing the bridge, I shouted, "Guitar solo." And that was all he needed, he bent his right knee and his hands took off. Eyes closed in that typical 'other worldly' look of soloing guitarists he let his hands have free run of the guitar. It was amazing. We finished the song on the last chorus with him interspersing power chords with little solo runs. Playing live was always exhilarating, but there was something about playing live with someone else. In sharing the moment, the experience was doubled, not halved.

I grinned over at him, "You're not bad."

He laughed, "You're not bad either."

I smiled deprecatingly, "Oh well, I get by."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Good song. I like it."

"Thanks."

"Got any more?"

I smirked, "Well yes, but it's a little different."

He nodded, "Want to give it a try and I'll jam along?"

I shrugged, "Sure. I'll get the sequencer running, I'll not bother with the guitar myself in this one." Once the sequencer was ready, I took the mike in my hand, murmured, "Key of E," to him and started into 'I just wanna be me'.

"Feelin' the weight of others' expectations, Pushing me down, pressing around me, Building into disappointments, anger and frustrations, Why oh why can't they understand and see."

He listened and twiddled a little as he got the hang of the song. I had written it with a swing big-band feel but as he listened and started to play along, he played blues chords and runs on the blues scale. I hadn't thought about doing that at all. I would have thought it would have made the song sound disjointed, but it worked. It sounded great.

"I don't wanna be somebody elses' puppet, Don't wanna have to say yes and always agree, You're squeezing me, smothering me - why don't you just stop it Cos I just wanna be me. I'm dreamin' my own dreams, not fulfilling yours, I'm throwing off the bonds, I'm gonna be free, I'm releasing my true spirit, a spirit that endures Cos I just wanna be me."

By the last chorus, I couldn't help myself, I was strutting and striding across the stage, well OK the back room floor. As we finished Jon hit a diminished 7th and let the sound fade slowly. I laughed, "That was awesome."

"It was," he agreed.

"Oh, you're modest too?" I teased.

He smiled at me, "I was talking about you."

I blushed, "Oh err thanks."

He nodded, "You've got a great voice and I really like your writing." He let the words hang there and he stood there looking as if he was pondering something.

I interrupted him gently, "Jon, I think you'd be a fantastic addition to what we're doing. We need someone like you and from what I've seen and heard, I'm not sure that there is anyone like you."

He looked at me and inclined his head. He nodded slowly, "What's the deal?"

Jools jumped in, "Well we would have to sort out percentages and so on if you were interested."

He grinned and shook his head, "I'm not talking about money. I'm more interested in where this is all going and what part you see me playing in it." He looked back to me.

I smiled, "I see us going to the top. Making great music, enjoying every moment, a good tight band, chart records, top selling album, world tour, fame and fortune."

He laughed, "Now who's the modest one?"

I shrugged, "Got to aim high. It's not worth going for less."

He set his guitar back into its case carefully and closed the lid. Standing up he nodded slowly again, "And what about musical creativity, song writing and all that?"

I think I knew what he was getting at. I began slowly, "Jon, I think in every good band, not everyone is a song writer. It can't work like that. But I think you need more than one person to spark good writing. Speaking honestly, I would see myself doing most of the writing, but I need the input of someone else, someone who knows good music and who is prepared to tell me when things suck. I'd be keen for that person to be able to bring new ideas and songs and we could work on them and see where we go."

He looked me in the eye, "You think that person is me?"

I nodded and met his gaze, "I do."

He clenched his teeth together a few times. I recognised the sign. Deep thought in process. He tutted a few times and then nodded. He looked up sharply, "OK."

I nodded my head slowly, "OK?"

He grinned, "I came here today thinking I would humour Julie, meet some girl who thought she needed a lead guitarist, and then get out of here and back to my band. But, you've intrigued me. I like the music, I see potential and I want to be a part of it."

"But what about your band?" I asked.

He blinked, "What, you're trying to talk me out of it now?" He shook his head, "Wasn't really going anywhere to be honest. The other guys are mostly jerks. So if you still want me, I'm in."

I smiled from ear to ear, "That's great Jonboy!"

His smile disappeared and I bit my lip. "What did you call me?" he asked. I knew I had made a mistake. 'Jonboy' had been his nickname back at high school and he wasn't overly fond of it. In recent years no-one called him it and he just about tolerated me, or Nick rather, doing it. It had just slipped out without me realising it. He was staring at me intently and looked quite puzzled.

"Err," I began hesitantly, "I don't know, it just came out."

He frowned and spoke slowly, "There's only one person who has called me that in years." He looked at Jools and I could see him working it out. He looked back at me and shook his head, "I've a very strange feeling about what is happening here. What I'm thinking can't be true, can it? The person who I'm thinking of certainly has connections to Julie..." He looked closely at me and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I don't believe it." He knelt down and closed the last few clasps on his guitar case and picked it up and started to head for the door.

"Jon wait!" I called.

He stopped and slowly turned around, "Are you going to tell me what is going on...Nick? Or is this all some big joke that I'm not getting?"

I looked down at the floor and then looked back up at him, "It's not a joke, I will tell you, but come in and sit down. It's a long story."

He looked at me as if I had two heads, "It is you? I can't believe this, I never saw it until there now. This is crazy." But he set the guitar case down and took a seat. I nodded to Jools and to the door and she got the hint and slipped out closing the door behind her.

"What's this all about Nick? What the hell are you doing like...that?"

"Like what Jon?" I said softly.

"Well like...a woman."

I paused and tried to think of how best to approach this. I couldn't think of anything very clever so I just started talking, "Jon, I'm not like a woman. I, well, I am a woman now."

He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at me with confusion on his face, "What you mean you've gone and well..."

I sighed, "Jon, I'm not going into details of anatomy or anything. I've decided to live as a woman. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I know this is right for me. I don't expect you to understand really."

He nodded, "Got that right. Dude are you messed up or what?"

I gave a mirthless chuckle, "Jon, look at me, do I look messed up? Seriously, look at me and tell me what you see."

He looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, "Uhh, what?"

I looked him in the eye, "Just look at me and tell me what you see."

He lowered his gaze, "I see a woman."

"Is that all?"

He looked up at me again and screwed his nose up, "What do you want me to say? That I see a real looker? A babe? Alright, you look good. I have to admit when you came downstairs and I saw you for the first time, I was pretty well impressed. But now to find out that you're..." He shook his head. "Why are you doing this? Is it just about the music?"

"No Jon. Well yes part of it is the music. I mean you heard me sing there today, what did you think?"

This was easier territory. He shrugged, "I thought it was one of the best female voices I've heard."

I nodded. "It came as a big surprise to me too. But it's not just that. My life sucked. Took me a long time to realise it. I just didn't realise why or what was wrong. Until now."

"So what, you're saying that you like being a girl?"

I nodded, "Yes. Jon, this is me. This is who I am. I'm not going to get all highbrow and say that this is how I was always meant to be. I don't know about that, but I do know that this is who I am now."

"Well look, that's fine for you Nick..."

I interrupted, "Please stop calling me that."

He backtracked, "Sorry. Cara then if that's what you want. But if you want to do this, OK mate, go for it. But I think this is too weird for me."

"So a minute ago, you were all for signing up, but now you want out? Why? What's changed? The music? The potential?"

He shrugged, "It just doesn't feel right. It's weird."

With more intensity than I expected I leant forward, "I know it's weird. Believe me, it is weird for me too. But I'm dealing with it, can you not see past it? I mean, we've worked together in the past, we got on well didn't we? We worked well together, didn't we? Same musical leanings and ideas? So now, when you see the potential we could have working at this, why don't you want to give it a chance?"

He sighed and sat in silence for a few moments. Gently I spoke, "Jon, I never thought you would be prejudiced like this."

He shook his head, "I am not prejudiced. It's just...this is a lot." He paused, "And when exactly were you planning to tell me all this? You were going to were you?"

I nodded and rubbed my eyes, "Jon believe me, I was going to tell you."

"When? After we recorded the album? Toured the world? Or just sometime when you got round to it?"

"Today. If you agreed, I was going to tell you. I wasn't going to let you walk out of here without knowing."

He looked at me and nodded, "Alright Ni...Cara, I believe you." We sat in silence for several minutes. He shook his head again, "Shit."

"What?" I asked.

He gave a wry grin, "I really can't believe this is happening."

I prompted slowly, "You want to be a part of this don't you?"

He looked at the floor and then looked up at me and nodded, "I do. But I don't know if I can deal with this. I'm going to have to think about it."

I nodded slowly, "That's fair enough, I can appreciate that."

He stood up slowly, "Look, let me sleep on it. I'll be in touch tomorrow."

I stood and folded my arms and felt very vulnerable all of a sudden, "OK."

He half-smiled and picked up his guitar and headed for the door.

"Jon?"

He turned, "Yeah?"

"You won't tell anyone about this? It's kind of a secret as you can imagine."

He half-snorted half-chuckled, "I'll bet." He paused, "No. Either way, I'll not say a word."

I smiled, "Thanks."

He took one last look at me and shook his head, "Unbelievable." He left and said a quick goodbye to Jools before exiting to the street.

Jools came back in, "Well?"

I sighed, "Not well."

She winced, "He didn't take it well?"

I shook my head, "You could say that."

"Is he in or out?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. He's going to think about it."
 

*          *          *
 
I felt a little depressed the next day. Things hadn't gone exactly as expected with Jon. I didn't know how long it would be before he got back to me. Thankfully I didn't have to wait too long. At lunchtime, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello err Cara?"

"Hi Jon," I suddenly felt very nervous for no explicable reason.

"I umm, well was thinking about...yesterday and all..."

"Yes?"

"Look, do you want to meet up for a coffee and we'll talk, face to face?"

I hesitated, "Well sure. Where?"

"How about the Starbucks near St. Paul's? Three o'clock?"

"Sure. I'll see if that suits Jools."

"No," he said quickly, "that is, I just want to talk to you, if that's OK."

"Err alright Jon. I'll see you at three."

"OK bye."

I set the phone down. He had given no hint as to what he was thinking. I replayed the brief conversation over in my mind and decided that he wanted to see me in person to let me down gently. I sighed and shrugged. I wrangled over what to wear and eventually decided to go as I was dressed: lilac body top and blue jeans. I pulled my hair back into a pony tail and checked my make up. I looked fine. I had a feeling of dread. Ever since I had thought of putting a band together, I couldn't envisage it without Jon. As far as I was concerned, there was nobody else who could even come close to him. I had sort of thought that with us having been friends, he would have accepted me a lot easier. But I guess it was just the opposite.

I left Jools' flat just after two to give me enough time to travel in on the Tube. Where Jools lived was a lot more convenient to the city centre than where I had been living. A simple ride in on the central line brought me to St. Paul's. It was a grey cold January afternoon and although I was a little early, I headed straight for the relative warmth of Starbucks. Jon was already there at a table in the corner. I gave him a little wave and went to the counter to get a latte. He stood up as I arrived at the table. I found this a little amusing and I think he realised this. He gave me a sheepish grin as we both sat down.

"Hi Jon.

"Hi."

He sat there looking at me and didn't say anything else. I raised an eyebrow, "Speechless?"

He half shrugged, "You could say that." He stopped again.

I took a sip of my latte and set the cup down. I smiled at him, "OK, what's on your mind?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but I had to know.

He nodded, "Well. I just wanted to meet you someplace public. Well out I mean." He frowned, "I'm not explaining myself very well. I wanted to see how you...get on." He sighed and shook his head.

I thought I understood, "You wanted to see if I still looked like and could act like a woman even out in public?"

He nodded, "Yes. I reckon that's pretty much it. I know that sounds a little lame. But I was just curious."

I permitted myself a wry smile, "And? How am I doing?"

He shifted a little in his seat, "Well, not bad I guess."

I laughed, "Oh Jon, easy on. I'll not be able to fit my head out of the door with such praise."

He smiled, "Well you know what I mean. You look...well you look good and you seem very...natural."

I nodded, "Thanks. And you wanted me to come alone to prove that I could go out by myself without support?"

He nodded and looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah."

I leaned forward and softly said, "Jon, I've been out dancing, I've been singing in front of people, I've shopped 'til I dropped, I've been living like this for some time. If you think I can't manage it or think I'll go to pieces in public, let me put your mind at rest. I'm fine, this is who I am."

He pondered this and then looked at me thoughtfully, "You know that's what makes it so hard to accept I think. If you were finding it difficult, I think I could understand better."

I paused for a moment, "It's not that I don't find it difficult at times. I do. It's not that it's plain sailing because believe me it's not. But that's life isn't it? Because something is difficult doesn't mean it's not worth doing. It's usually the opposite." I then added, "Gaining others' acceptance is one of the hardest things."

He winced, "Ouch. I probably deserved that though." He sighed, "I just can't help it though. It's not that I don't 'accept' you; I just find it hard to take in. It's not every day that one of your friends changes sex."

I grinned, "I guess you're right. But to get down to business, have you thought about things?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes, I have."

I sighed, "Am I going to have to drag it out of you bit by bit?"

He wrinkled his brow, "If I knew what I had to tell you, it would be fine. But I'm not sure."

I prompted gently, "Tell me what you are thinking."

He thought for a moment and then began, "OK. Musically I want to do it. I see the possibilities and the real chance of making it and that excites me and is something that I want to be part of." He stopped.

"There's a 'but' coming isn't there?"

He nodded, "Yes. I'm just not sure if it would work out. To be honest, it might have been better if you had never told me the truth."

I grinned, "I didn't actually tell you first off, remember you twigged to it yourself. Which was why I would have told you anyway. It wouldn't have been fair not to."

"I know," he said, "but if I didn't know, it would be a lot easier. I just find it hard to think of you as...well as a woman, as Cara. I keep thinking you are Nick and it doesn't seem right."

"Do I really remind you of Nick that much?"

"Well yes and no. You don't look much like him. Well that's an understatement. But the way you talk, your humour, your playing - there's a lot of Nick there."

I nodded and smiled, "Well, there is a lot of Nick in me you know. Is that a bad thing?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. I just don't know if I can get past that and be able to work with you well enough to make this a goer."

We both sat in silence for a few moments. I began slowly, "Look, I hear what you are saying and I think you do want to be involved in this. Yes?"

He nodded and I went on, "Well how about you give it a try. I mean, there's not much else to lose is there? You weren't happy with what you were doing."

He screwed up his nose, "Yes, but..."

I interrupted, "Why not say we'll try it for a year? Make the album, release the singles, go on tour if that materialises. If it works out, great. If not, well then we cut our losses and put it down to experience."

He still didn't look convinced, "It may not be as simple as that."

I spread my hands on the table, "Well Jon, it's your decision. I can't make it for you."

He looked at me for a few moments and then nodded reluctantly, "OK. Let's try it."

"Great," I winked, "but I want you to tone down your enthusiasm, I think you're getting a bit too excited."

He laughed, "Yeah right. OK, we'll give a shot."

We went our separate ways and I had told him that I'd give him a call in a few days so we could start to look for other band members and begin to work on the songs. He was going to let the members of his band know he was leaving although he would honour the gigs they already had booked for the next month or so. As I returned home, I had mixed feelings. I was glad that Jon was in, but couldn't quite fathom his reticence.
 

*          *          *
 
"Cara, are you paying attention?" Jools asked pointedly.

"Umm, yes?" I said absent-mindedly. We were sitting at Jools' kitchen table and she was going through contract details. I had been day dreaming.

"No you weren't," she said indignantly.

I grinned, "OK, sorry. I guess my mind drifted off a bit."

Jools sighed, "It is important you know."

"I know, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Jools shrugged, "Well look basically, I've checked through the contract and got a solicitor to have a quick look at it and it all seems in order. I think we should sign and get it back to Sony."

I nodded, "Was the solicitor expensive?"

She looked at me, "This from the girl who blows fifteen grand on a car?"

I smiled, "OK, point taken. Right then, where do I sign?"

"Don't you want me to go over the details with you?"

I shrugged, "I wouldn't understand the half of it, and if you think it is alright, I'm happy. Isn't that what a good manager is for?"

Jools nodded, "Well yes."

I interrupted, "Well then, where do I sign?"

She sighed and pushed it over, "Just there. I'll sign above as your representative."

I signed it and Jools signed above mine. She said, "Now, that's not all contractual details sorted. We need to sort out a contract between me, you and the band."

"We do?"

She nodded, "Yes, your income will be paid to CMA and we need to formalise our arrangements."

CMA was Carstairs' Music Agency, the name Jools operated under. "Uhh ok," I added intelligently.

She smiled, "You don't want me running off with all your money do you?"

I laughed, "True, couldn't trust you as far as I could throw you. So what do we do about a contract?"

Jools winked, "I just happen to have prepared a draft version."

I grinned, "Why does that not surprise me?"

Jools smiled beatifically, "That's what you pay me for. So here, you have to read this one."

I groaned and took the document. It was three pages of text and then several extra sheets for signatures. I read through it. A lot of legal type language but I was able to follow it for the most part. It all seemed fairly straightforward to me. There were some blanks on the sheets for signing. I mentioned this, "Jools, there are blanks here where I think there should be some names and percentages."

She nodded, "Yes, well we need the other band members' names to fill in their parts and we need to discuss the percentages."

I nodded, "Well what do you think Jools?"

She wrinkled her nose, "Well it's really for you to decide."

I shrugged, "How much should you get?"

She looked uncomfortable, "Well the standard figure would be ten percent."

I nodded, "Are you happy enough with that?"

"Yes, of course I am."

I nodded, "Well then ten percent it is. What about the rest?"

"How many band members are we looking at?"

I thought aloud, "Me, Jon, a drummer, a bass guitarist and a keyboard player most likely."

"How do you want to split it?" she asked.

Now I felt a little uncomfortable, "I don't know. I suppose I should get more than an even share?"

"Hell yes!" she exclaimed, "You should get the majority of it, I mean you are the named artist. I would think you should take fifty percent and split the rest between the band, ten percent each."

I chewed my lip and thought about it, "I'll take forty percent, twenty percent for Jon and ten percent for the others whoever they turn out to be. Does that sound OK?"

She nodded, "That's fine if that's the way you want to do it. Why give Jon twenty though?"

I shrugged, "I see him as playing a more important role than just another band member."

She seemed happy with that and we signed our respective parts. We would have to get Jon and the future band members to sign their parts at a later date. Thankfully that seemed to be all the bureaucracy that was required at present. Jools headed out to drop the contract in to Sony in person. I was going to go with her but she told me that stars didn't drop in their own contracts and this was what I was paying her for. She thought we would have the advance within a few days. This was good as I had a car to pay for at the end of the next week. My poor maths was able to cope with working out forty percent of one hundred grand. After paying for the car I would still have twenty-five thousand left. It was hard for me to comprehend such an amount. It was strange to not have to think about where I was going to get money from or how I was going to make ends meet. Yet I had a strange nagging feeling that I should be doing something work wise in the meantime. I wasn't quite sure what I was thinking. I would have to try and sort my thoughts out.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 15
 
 
Jon called over on Thursday morning. He brought his guitar, of course. I had wanted to talk about other potential band members, but he wanted to play some songs first.

"Let's just try out some of your songs. Let me get a feel for them. It will get me in the mood and then we can think about the band."

"OK, what do you want to try first?" I asked.

He wanted to try the songs he had played along with so we went through 'No half measures'. We played it over and over until he was happy. Jon was a bit of a perfectionist like me. He believed in knowing a song backwards. It was a little tedious for me after a while. Having written the song, I already knew it inside out, but he wanted to finalise his runs and riffs. We wrote room for a guitar solo into the song and he made me play the backing chords for the solo over and over again whilst he experimented, changed and corrected what he was doing. At last he seemed happy, but wanted to go over it several more times until he was sure he had it in his head.

"Jon, not again," I groaned.

He grinned at me, "One more time."

"That's what you have said the last five times!"

He shrugged, "Come on, humour me."

I did. And he actually did seem happy enough this time. We moved on to 'I just wanna be me' and went through the same procedure. I resigned myself to playing this endlessly whilst he perfected his runs. They sounded fine to me after the first few times, but not good enough for him. I was tempted to leave the sequencer on repeat and leave him to it. But I knew he worked better with live playing of a song. He said that I had to sing it so he got the real feel of it. I didn't exactly give the vocal performances quite my best as it would have tired my voice out with the endless repetition. We moved on to 'Living life in colour' and gave it the same treatment. Although I was getting weary with the whole procedure, I had to admit that Jon was bringing a totally new dimension to the songs. A different perspective, a different ear. It made the difference between a good song and a brilliant song. It was quite exciting.

"Can we try another song?" he asked.

"Jon, no. I'm exhausted and hungry. It's way past lunchtime and we need to talk about the band," I pouted.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled a little, "Don't pout at me. I'm immune to your charms remember?"

I put my hands on my hips, inclined my head and batted my eyelids, "Is that so?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Now don't get weird on me. Alright, let's break then."

I led the way upstairs into the kitchen. I made some coffee and some sandwiches. As I turned around, I noticed him looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

He looked awkward and shrugged, "Nothing."

"No come on." I looked at him and waited for him to answer.

He sighed and waved a hand, "I was just wondering why you had to dress so...well...I don't know...provocatively. It's not exactly making it easy for me to you know adjust to the new you."

I was wearing a black rib-knit top and my short checked miniskirt. I sat down and smiled, "Jon. I'm not trying to make things difficult. This is me. It's how I like to dress." I paused, "And you know, well when we play or do publicity stuff as a band eventually, I've no illusions as to the kind of wardrobe and look that the PR people are going to want to go with if you know what I mean."

He nodded his head from side to side, "Yeah OK. I'll just have to deal with it." He looked at me, "Are you sure you're comfortable with this? I mean, are you sure this isn't just a phase or something?"

I laughed, "Yes, I'm sure. You sound like my mother."

He raised his eyebrows as the realisation just hit him, "You've told your parents. Yes I suppose you would have. Wow. How'd that go?"

I grimaced, "Not good. Difficult."

"Did they...well accept it?"

I shrugged, "Not really. I made it clear they would have to though. I think they accepted that this was what was happening, but they don't approve at all. Made for a nice family Christmas."

He took a bit of his sandwich, "I'm sure it was a real party. As long as you're sure you can go through with all this." He paused, "I mean, just what you were saying about the PR stuff, you do know what the reaction to you is going to be?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The male reaction. I mean, looking like you do and the way you'll be marketed, you're going to draw more than your fair share of male attention. How do you feel about that?"

I shrugged, "I know it's a possibility, but I haven't really thought about it. I'll deal with it if it arises."

He nodded slowly and began hesitantly, "It might be none of my business..." He stopped, "Never mind."

"No go on," I prompted.

He took a deep breath, "I was just wondering, what with you being a woman and all now, well are you into...I mean do you like..."

"Do I fancy guys?" I completed the question for him.

He looked embarrassed, "Uhh yeah, something like that."

I shook my head, "No. I don't. It's not really an issue." I said it confidently and I felt I believed it. I wasn't going to be messing about any more. In control.

He smiled bashfully, "OK, sorry for prying."

I waved a hand, "Don't sweat it. It's only natural for you to ask and you're not the first to ask. Now band members!"

He grinned, "OK. Well first thing I had thought of was drums. Kevin Noble is doing a few gigs with a band called 'Homeland' but I don't think they are really going anywhere."

"Kevin Noble," I mused, "Do I know him?"

"Course you do. Small guy, wiry. Used to play with me when we were both in 'Rainbow's end'."

I clicked my fingers, "Yes I remember now. He's quite good isn't he?"

Jon nodded, "Getting better all the time. Last time I heard him, I was very impressed. He's a decent bloke too."

"Can you get in touch with him?"

He nodded, "I think so. I've got his number somewhere. I'll look it out and give him a shout."

"For bass guitarist, I was thinking of someone. What do you call him?" I shook my head, "It'll come to me. He played in that charity gig a few years back: Blues for Bosnia."

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, "Yes, I know who you mean. Ack what's his name?"

I took a deep breath, "Brian someone I think."

Jon nodded, "Brian Garrett."

"That's it! I wonder where he is now."

Jon blew out his cheeks, "He hasn't been around the band circuit that I've seen. Wasn't he doing some session music?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. How can we track him down?"

Jon grinned, "Tell Jools to get on it, she's resourceful."

I laughed, "I think I'll do just that."

"Owen Robinson," Jon said.

"Hmm? Oh for keyboards?" I replied.

He nodded, "He's good, versatile and dead on."

I nodded slowly, "OK, sounds reasonable. What's he up to?"

Jon rubbed his eyes, "Not sure. In some band somewhere. He's friendly with a mate of mine; I'll ring him and see if he knows where Owen is these days."

"Right well that sounds like we have enough to be going on with. Oh before I forget, I need to get you to sign this contract." I brought over the contract sheet with Jon's name on it and gave it to him. He read through it and nodded.

"Sounds OK to me," he said.

"You happy enough? You get twenty percent of the profits?"

He nodded, "Yes that's fine. It's not really about the money, but twenty percent of whatever is going to be a lot more than what I'm getting now isn't it?"

I nodded, "It is. Once the advance comes through, you'll get your first paycheque."

He grinned, "How much?"

"For you?" I shrugged and casually continued, "Oh a mere twenty grand."

He nearly fell off his seat. He laughed, "Twenty grand? What will I do with that?"

I laughed too, "What you want me to take you shopping to spend it?"

He grimaced, "No, it's OK. I'm sure I'll manage.
 

*          *          *
 
It was a couple of days before resourceful Jools managed to get a contact number for Brian Garrett and it was the middle of the next week before I managed to get him in. Jools had suggested she ring him, but I was getting a little bored and wanted something to do. I had to remember that he wouldn't know me and had to be careful not to give myself away. I hadn't really known him at all as Nick though.

"Hi is that Brian?"

"Yep, who's that?"

"Brian, my name is Cara Malone. You won't know me. I've heard you play once or twice before but we've never met. I'm a singer/songwriter and I'm putting a band together and I was wondering if you might be interested."

"Uh huh? What are you planning to do? Anyone else involved?"

"Well, you may know the lead guitarist, Jon Peters?"

"Yes, I know of him. Talented guy." He paused. I needed to pique his interest.

"Well, I've got a recording contract with Sony and I need a band together before we hit the studio to record the singles and first album."

"Really?" he sounded more interested now, "What's the deal?"

"Well, why don't you come round sometime soon, bring your bass and we'll play some of the material. You can see what you think and we can talk about details?"

"Sure, when?"

"Let me check with Jon and get back to you on that."

I eventually got hold of Jon later that night and caught up with how he had been getting on. He'd spoken to Kevin and he sounded interested enough to come round and see what we were up to. Jon had suggested Saturday afternoon, a few days away. He had talked to Owen Robinson but he wasn't interested. Even when Jon stressed we had a recording contract, he didn't want to know. Apparently he was trying to get a break as a singer himself. I sympathised as I knew all about that and would probably have done the same had I been in his place. Jon and I talked, but couldn't think of any other decent keyboard players at the moment. I rang Brian back and he agreed to come round on Saturday afternoon.
 

*          *          *
 
The money had now come through from Sony and Jools had arranged the transfer of my share and Jon's to our respective accounts. I had set myself up with a new bank account and credit cards under the name of Nicola Evans. When going into the branch, I had had the irrational fear that the assistant manager who was dealing with me would press the alarm bells and declare my ID fake. But that didn't happen of course. And so it was that on Saturday morning, Jools drove me over to the MG showroom to pick up my new car. It was strange to write a cheque for fifteen grand just like that and it was hard to believe that the shiny silver convertible was now mine. I drove back to Jools' apartment but took the 'scenic' route. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take my new wheels for a spin. It was a delight to drive. I fell in love instantly. I arrived back at Jools' place and parked it outside. I ran my hand over the bonnet and let it linger on the shiny bodywork. It seemed almost a shame to leave it outside. I felt like jumping back in and just driving and driving with the top down. But since it was a drizzly wet winter's day and since Jon, Kevin and Brian were coming over that afternoon, I had to put my plans on hold.

Jon arrived with Kevin just after lunch. Kevin was lugging his drum kit in. My instinctive reaction was to help him and Jon carry it in until Jon politely reminded me that the men could handle it. He made the introductions, "Kevin Noble, meet Cara Malone."

I smiled and shook his hand, "Hi Kevin, glad you could come over." Kevin was about my height and not at all well built. He had short brown hair and glasses and looked if anything, more like an accountant than a rock drummer. He had a sort of nervous energy about him and never seemed to stand still. He was always moving, be it his hands or shifting from one foot to the other.

"Hi Cara," he replied, "Delighted to be here. Jon had to twist my arm a little to get me to come, but if he had told me how lovely you were, I'd have agreed straight off." He sniggered nervously.

I laughed self-consciously and changed the subject, "Thanks. Look if you want to set up at the back of the room there, Brian Garrett, our potential bass guitarist should be arriving soon."

Kevin set up and in the way that all drummers do, immediately set about beating his drums incessantly. And very loudly. Jon picked up his guitar and went into 'spaced out guitar solo' mood. I barely heard the doorbell fifteen minutes later. It was Brian.

"Hello, Brian?"

The tall short black haired man nodded and gave a rueful smile, "That's me. You're Cara Malone?"

I grinned and nodded, "Sure am, come on in."

He came in and set his guitar case and small bass amp down. "Sorry for the noise from the rowdy boys. I'm glad you could come."

He shrugged, "No problem." Silence. He wasn't one for many words it seemed.

"Err well, do you want to come in and meet the others?"

We walked into the back room and it was all I could do to get their attention, "Jon! Kevin!" At last it registered with them and they stopped. Well Kevin seemed to keep some sort of beat going quietly in the background with the bass drum. I made the introductions and explained that both Kevin and Brian had come to see what we were at and see if they were interested. Jon and I had decided we would run through the three songs we had worked on last time. I got my semi-acoustic guitar and adjusted the mike stand. Jon was ready to go and we launched into 'No half measures'. Kevin of course immediately joined in with the beat and began to build up the rhythm. I sang as forcefully as I could, wanting to make a good impression. Brian stood to the side initially looking impassive. After the first chorus, he slowly bent down, opened his guitar case and lifted it out. He plugged in his amp and plugged the bass into it, adjusted his volume and then nonchalantly joined in. He had got the basic gist of the chord progression and added a simple bass line. Jon launched into his impressive guitar solo. I could hear both Kevin and Brian improvising a little and doing some experimentation. We brought the song to a close. That is Jon, Brian and I stopped, but Kevin kept hammering away for a bar or two. He stopped, "Oh sorry. Didn't realise we were done." He smiled nervously and then nodded a few times, "I liked that. Can we do it again?"

I grinned. His enthusiasm was quite infectious. I looked over to Brian, "Happy enough with it? Got the basic idea?"

He nodded, "Yep. Reckon so."

That was all I was going to get out of him so I shrugged and counted us in again. We played it through a couple of times. It got tighter each time. It was that unquantifiable situation where the total energy a band created was greater than the sum of the individual parts. I was buzzing. But I was also a little nervous as to what the two potential band members were thinking. We ran through 'Living life in colour' several times until Kevin and Brian got the hang of it. It didn't take them long. They were certainly talented and quick on the uptake. I laid my guitar down for 'I just wanna be me' and taking my mike in hand, began to roam around the room as I pouted and smiled my way through it. Again after a few times through it, it was sounding really good. Kevin had taken brushes and given it a real swing beat. Brian had taken his cue from Jon and added a blues bass line to it. I loved how it sounded.

"It sounds really good guys," I complimented.

Kevin was nodding up and down, "I like it. Did you write all these? Good songs. Like them. Variety. Good rhythm."

I grinned and looked over at Brian, "Brian, what do you think?"

He paused and pursed his lips and then slowly nodded, "Yep, good."

I hesitated, but that was all that was forthcoming, "Ah OK." I didn't know what to say next.

Jon spoke up, "Cara, play your love song."

I screwed up my face, "Don't call it that."

He shrugged, "I can't remember the name of it. Anyways it is a love song isn't it?"

I sighed, "Well I guess. I presume you are talking about 'Not dancing, but flying'?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Guys, come on over to the keyboard and listen to this."

I felt a bit intimidated as they all stood over me, but I tried to put them out of my head as I started the arpeggio style introduction. I closed my eyes and let the music slowly absorb me as I sang. I didn't have to put it on. The emotion of singing this song seemed to come naturally every time I played it. When I finished I looked up and smiled a little sheepishly, "I know it's a bit soppy and not quite a real rock song..."

Brian actually gave the hint of a smile, "Nice though."

I took this as praise indeed. Kevin was bouncing on his toes again, "Yeah, cracker. Great voice Cara, love it."

I decided to take this as the opportunity, "Well Kevin and Brian, you've heard some of what we are doing. Speaking for myself, I'd be keen to have you both aboard. You've both certainly got the talent and skills that we are looking for. What do you think?"

Kevin predictably was the first to answer, "Sure thing. I'm in. Things are sort of going nowhere with my current band."

I smiled, "That's great Kevin." I looked up at Brian, his expression gave no clues, "Brian?"

He nodded slowly and frowned, "Yes OK."

I felt I needed a little more confirmation, "You mean you want in."

He nodded, "Yep." That was all I was going to get.

"Well...OK...great," I smiled.

I heard a clearing of throat from the doorway. It was Jools. She spoke up, "Did I just hear that we have two new band members?"

I made the introductions and explained that Jools was our manager. Jools brought in the contracts and let Kevin and Brian read them. Kevin seemed to skim through it and then sign it without much attention and give it back. Brian however took about ten minutes reading it through a few times. He asked Jools a few short questions and then signed it.

"Thank you gentlemen," she said all business-like. "Now, we have received an advance from Sony and in accordance with the terms of your contracts, you are eligible for ten percent each. Would you like the cheques now?"

They both answered in the affirmative. Kevin expressively so and Brian quite passively so. They were quite a contrast. Jools handed them their cheques.

Kevin swore, "Holy..." He laughed and held up the cheque, "Unbelievable, this is great."

Brian's eyebrows actually rose in what was the most expressive facial movement I had seen from him yet. He didn't say anything but just pocketed the cheque.

"Thanks guys again for coming over," I said. "My plan would be that Jon and I work on some more songs over the next month or two and then we all get together for a few weeks solid before we go into the studio and work on the songs together. So I guess with your cheques, you've got several weeks of paid holidays between now and then. We are still short a keyboard player. Do either of you two have any suggestions?"

Brian shrugged, "Colin Henderson?"

Jon vaguely knew of him and Brian gave him the telephone number. Kevin thought, "Well there's Jeremy Patterson, but he may not be available." He thought again and began a little more hesitantly, "And I guess there is Noel Dawson."

Jon frowned, "Doesn't he have a bit of a problem with the drink?"

Kevin shrugged, "Word is he's been dry for a year now. Good enough player."

Jon nodded, "Well I'll work on those contacts and see what turns up."

Brian and Kevin packed up and said their goodbyes. Kevin's being more vocal than Brian's. After they had left, I grinned at Jon, "It sounded good. I think it's coming together."

He smiled at me, "I think you're right." He paused, "So we've got to get some more songs written then?"

I nodded, "Hope you've got some inspiration inside you somewhere."

He grinned, "Guess we'll have to find out."
 

*          *          *
 
I was still in the habit of getting up early each morning and going for a run. I had tried to persuade Jools to keep up with the fitness routine but, out of the reaches of Beth, she had regressed to her usual non-exercising, lying-in-bed morning routine. She resisted all my efforts to cajole her into joining me. She saw no attraction in getting up on damp grey winter's mornings to go out and 'freeze her ass off' as she put it. Me? I was getting addicted. I never thought it could happen to me, but it had. I loved the feeling of being up and out before the world awoke and having the fresh morning air nearly all to myself. Most mornings I headed out around 7 a.m. and ran about a half mile to the north and entered Wormholt Park. It wasn't the most beautiful of green spaces, but it was green and relatively free of the carbon monoxide that started to build up from London's commuters before long. I would do several circuits of the park, trying to either aim to do each circuit in less time than the one before or to do more and more circuits compared to previous mornings. That was where I met Kate. For a few mornings in a row, I had noticed that I didn't have the park to myself. There was a tall redhead running circuits also. It was Tuesday morning when we finally talked. I had stopped for a breather after ten hard circuits of the park and she jogged over to where I was stretching my calf muscles on a park bench.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Hi," I grinned.

"You've been running in my park," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Your park?" I said amusedly as I looked up.

She nodded, "I've had to myself for years and now you show up. I'm Kate."

I grinned and stood up straight, "I'm Cara." Kate was tall. About 5' 10" I reckoned, with shoulder length ginger hair. Strawberry blonde she called it as she later told me. She was bright-eyed and looked to be in good shape. She had a pointy nose and a quirky little mouth which created an overall very attractive impression.

"Pleased to meet you Cara. So you new here or what?"

I shrugged, "Yes. I'm staying with a friend nearby 'til I get my own place sorted out."

We chatted a bit more. Kate was a personal assistant in the city to some big-shot ego corporate manager as she described him. I got the impression that she didn't think much of him. This was fairly well confirmed when she called him an 'ass-grabbing lecherous toad' a few moments later. When she asked me what I did, I told her I was a musician. She was very interested and wanted to know more. I tried to shrug it off and told her I was trying to get a band together to see what would happen. We parted company before long and she said she was sure she would see me about.

She was right. Our schedules seemed to run fairly close as more often than not, I would see Kate doing her circuits faithfully each morning. We began to run around together. This was good at times as the competition of someone to run against kept us going. At other times it wasn't as good as our pace dropped off because we focussed more on chatting than running. I liked Kate. She was amusing, irreverent and had an aura of fun about her. I would laugh until I had to stop running at the stories of office life that she regaled me with. I had very little to tell her in return as most of the interesting parts of my life at present weren't for public consumption. I appreciated the company. I wasn't quite sure why, but when I thought about it, it was probably because Kate was the one person that I was chatting to these days who took me at face value. She didn't know my 'dark secret' and it was refreshing for me to have the opportunity to get to know someone by myself as Cara without all the extra baggage that I was carrying around in the rest of my life. I valued my morning exercise times all the more for it.
 

*          *          *
 
Jon had been coming over most days with his guitar. He arrived mid morning as he was another non-morning person. He found it hard to believe the change in my approach to the mornings. In fact he refused to believe it until Jools confirmed it for him. He had thought I was just winding him up. Things were still awkward between us. In a sense, the atmosphere was most relaxed when we were playing. When he had his guitar in hand, and I was singing with either my guitar or keyboards, it was as if the difficulties evaporated and a higher level of communication was achieved. We spent a lot of time playing. Not that much of it was extremely productive. But it was more about establishing a musical relationship where I knew what he was thinking and vice versa. It had been the same a few years back when we were playing together and it was coming back again now. It was that almost telepathic anticipation of knowing where the other person is going to take the song, what they will do next and going with them, taking the music to the next stage. Truly empathic. It was what I loved about playing with other people. I realised how stale my music had become over the last eighteen months. Playing solely by myself, the energy had dissipated, the force had gone from it. I hadn't seen it as it was a gradual process, but now I saw it clearly. Jon enjoyed it too. I could see that. Often we would just pick a key and jam and improvise. We would solo one after another, him on guitar, me on keyboards until we would bring the piece to a climactic end in a tight sharp ending.

I grinned, "You just can't beat this, can you?"

He laughed and wiped his brow, "Nah, it's something else isn't it? It almost beats sex."

I didn't quite know how to respond to this. Jon had said similar things like this in the past. As I frantically tried to think of an appropriate light-hearted retort to avoid the moment becoming awkward, the moment overtook me.

"Uhh sorry," Jon apologised, "well I didn't sort of like meant that."

I shrugged, "Don't sweat it. I know what you mean."

But it was too late. We were back into our shells and Jon would hardly look at me. It was the same each day when we would stop for lunch. Conversation was stilted with him rarely making eye contact. I had to try and almost distract him away from the present. At times it worked. We would laugh over old school stories, people we both remembered, people we liked, people we loathed. We would talk about other bands, who was good, who was crap. At times, it was almost like it had been. Almost. But then that imperceptible barrier between us would creep down like fog rolling down into a valley from the mountains. It was frustrating. The result was that we spent more and more time playing and less talking. This had benefits in that we were fast becoming of one musical mind. I guess I pretended that these benefits made the lack of real communication alright. But I knew it wasn't true.

Over lunch the following Monday I decided to confront the issue. Jon was doing his staring into space, not looking at or talking to me thing as we ate our sandwiches.

"Jon, it can't go on like this?"

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean."

He just shrugged, "What?"

I sighed, "What's wrong? When we're playing and singing, we're really connecting, I mean it is just clicking right into the groove. But when we're not, it's as if we're strangers. What is it?"

He shrugged again and for a moment didn't say anything. He dragged his eyes from the floor and looked at me. He turned round towards me and placed his elbows on the table. "Cara I just don't know how to be with you."

I was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

He frowned, "I just don't know how to talk to you, how to get on with you. Sure I can play guitar with you, it's almost like a reflex, doesn't require any thought. But I don't know if you're a friend, a mate, an acquaintance, a colleague whatever."

I think I understood what he was getting at, but I felt hurt nonetheless. I shook my head, "I thought we were friends Jon?" I tried to keep my voice from sounding pained but it sounded a little whiny despite my best efforts.

He looked me in the eye and nodded, "We were friends. Nick was my friend." He paused and shrugged, "You're not Nick. I guess what I'm saying is, I don't really know who you are. I don't really know you."

We sat in silence for a few moments, "OK. I think I understand. But you know it is still really me. Not that much has changed."

He raised an eyebrow as if to say 'yeah right'. I continued, "Well OK, a lot has changed. But what can we do to deal with this?"

He sighed, "I'm open to suggestions."

Softly I replied, "Are you?"

He whipped his head around, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I sat back a little, "I don't know Jon. I just wonder at times if you really do want to make the effort or if it is more comfortable for you to pretend there's no problem, almost pretend I'm not here."

"That's crap and you know it. Alright then, what do you have in mind?"

I thought for a moment, "OK, if you feel you don't really know me. Why not just get to know me? What do you do when you don't know someone? Chat, talk, and tell them about yourself? Why not start again?"

He nodded slowly and then wrinkled his brow, "It's all very well saying that. Easier said than done though. I just don't know how to treat you, how to act."

"Huh?" I asked for clarification.

"Well like, if you were a mate, I'd know how to act and get on, but if you're a girl I met, things would be different. I don't know where you fit in."

His words were seemingly innocuous, but they struck home with me. Where I fit in? He was right. If I could barely answer that question, what right had I to expect him to? Although I was enjoying the feelings and sensations of being the new me, there were a lot of things I hadn't come to terms with. I was still living in a relatively sheltered environment. I hadn't much of a clue about how Cara felt about certain things. If I didn't really know who I was, good luck to the rest of the world in working it out. Answers on a postcard please. I was staring into space and Jon interrupted me.

"You OK?"

"Mmm?" I said as I refocused, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

"What is it?" he gently prompted.

I was about to make a glib reply that it was nothing, but if I expected him to be more open with me, it would half to work both ways. "Oh it's just that you are right. I don't know where I fit in either. I know on the outside I look the part and all, but being honest Jon, sometimes when it's just me, inside, I'm scared. I don't think I've done the wrong thing; I'm just not sure where it's all going. In a sense, having the record deal and all makes it all the more scary. There's a timetable operating here that means I have to work it out and sort it out fast. I haven't the luxury of being able to sit back and find myself. So it's no wonder you find it difficult to talk to me also. What else can I expect?"

He nodded slowly as he took it in. "I never thought of it like that," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I never thought about how you felt about all this. I was being selfish. I was just thinking about how difficult I thought all this was. I mean when I look at you, you look so together. You put on a hell of a good front!"

I laughed, "Is that a compliment?"

He grinned, "As close as I can manage at the moment."

He held out a hand towards me.

I wrinkled my forehead, "What?"

"Hi, I'm Jon Peters," he said.

I laughed and took his hand and he shook it.

He smiled, "I can't promise I'll not be a jerk any more, but let's give it a shot."

"Deal," I said.

"So any other ideas on how we can sort this mess out?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Well, we could try and interact on a normal social basis. Any good bands playing these days or anything?"

He shifted a little awkwardly in his seat, "We-ell, I was going to go down to the Santa Barbara on Wednesday night to hear 'Loud as Life'."

I brightened, "Sounds good."

He hesitated, "Erm, well I was going to go with some of the guys from the old band."

I read between the lines and tried to hide my disappointment, "Oh right, I see. Well never mind. Another time. Let's get back to some playing?"

I stood up and he slowly stood also, "Look. OK." I stopped and turned round as he went on, "Sure come along with me."

I shrugged, "You sure, I mean if you're not happy with it, I don't want to make things worse."

He shook his head and more firmly said, "No. Come along, you're right. We should just be normal and do things that friends do." He winced, "It's just that..."

"Just what?"

He grinned ruefully, "Never mind. Doesn't matter."
 

*          *          *
 
I had been continuing to take the hormones and the changes were progressing. My skin was very soft now and that wasn't changing any further, but I continued to notice changes in my figure and my moods. The former was pretty much pleasing, the latter was a pain. I had noticed that my waist was definitely narrower. I was rarely wearing my corset these days. A combination of the hormones, healthy eating, exercise and the long weeks of corset wearing had left me with a trim 26 inch waist. I was quite proud of it. As my waist had narrowed, my hips had correspondingly continued to swell. I was nowhere near the stage where I would be getting paranoid that my hips and my bum were too big, but I did like to think I had better curves than I had had previously. And as for my chest? It was full steam ahead. It was becoming increasingly difficult and more uncomfortable to wear my breast forms. It was a bit of a tricky situation. My own breasts were growing and developing. My nipples were becoming more sensitive. It felt so strange to stand in front of the mirror and look at them and hold them in my hands. But kind of nice too. I think I was somewhere approaching a B cup now, but I couldn't be sure. The problem was that when I put my breast forms into my bra as well, with the reduction in space in my bra, the forms compressed my own breasts and caused growing discomfort. But what could I do? Not wear the forms and suddenly have to explain to everyone what happened to my previously full bosom? These things were playing on my mind as I had my second appointment with Dr. Carson in a few days time on Thursday. I knew there was a solution to this problem and my mouth went dry as I thought about it. I would have to make a decision though.

I had adjusted quite well to my feminine appearance. I could quite honestly say I liked the way I looked. I mean who wouldn't like being attractive? I liked my visage, my figure and the clothes I could wear. But I was realising there was more to being a woman than looking like a woman, talking like a woman and acting like a woman. It reminded me of that conversation at my old kitchen table with Jools. It seemed like years ago, but in reality it was only a few months back. Then when I had worked through the implications of what this step would mean I had realised that it meant looking like, talking like, acting like but also actually being a woman. The first three I thought I had licked now. The problem was that I had no idea how to manage the fourth aspect. I had thought it would sort of naturally follow on, but I was finding that it wasn't quite that easy. I could put on the good front as Jon called it. I could do it perfectly outwardly. But what about inwardly? Who was I when there was no-one else around? Physically I was woman. But mentally? Emotionally? Even spiritually? Was I Nick in Cara's body, or was I really Nicola underneath it all? I supposed that it was only natural to have some doubts. But I didn't feel that I could talk about it with anyone. I had to present the assuredness and confidence in what I was doing. Had I done it so well that I had bluffed myself? I didn't really think so.

One of the strange things was my dreams. They were a mixture of realities, when I remembered them. Sometimes in my dreams I was still Nick, other times I was Nicola/Cara. I don't know if it was a subconscious projection of my fears, but when I was Cara, the dreams tended to turn into nightmares. The usual chasing scenes where you run away from something you never see. The fear of course was that I would be exposed for a fraud. I knew it was silly, but it did bother me at times. However in the cold hard light of day, when I rationally tried to think clearly, when hormones weren't ravaging my emotions too much, I still felt I was doing the right thing and taking the right path. I needed to know this because as each day passed, I moved further and further away from Nick and became more and more of this new person. I suppose it was only natural not to know exactly who I was yet or what I would be like at the end of it all. But it wasn't easy. I decided to put all this over introspection out of my head and focus my mind on something much more practical: what was I going to wear on Wednesday night?
 

*          *          *
 
"Hi Claire," I said as she answered the phone at the other end.

"Oh hi...Nic-ola. How are you?" she said brightly after a moment's initial hesitation.

"Pretty good, you?"

"I'm fine. Work sucks, it's January, but apart from that, grand. What have you been up to?"

"Well trying to put a band together I suppose," I replied.

"How's it going? Anyone good? Anyone I know?"

"Yeah, not too bad. They are all pretty good. We still need a keyboard player though. Only one you might remember is Jon Peters."

"Jon Peters," a pause, "Wait wasn't he originally from Pembroke? In your class at school once?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Wow. Isn't that a bit weird? What if he finds out about you know...you?"

"He knows."

"You told him?"

"He worked it out, but I would have told him."

"Is he OK with it?" she asked.

"Umm, hard to say. Things aren't exactly peachy, but we'll sort it out I guess. Anyway, how're Mum and Dad?"

"You should phone them yourself Nicola."

"I know, I will. Have you been talking to them?"

She sighed, "Yes. If you want to know if they have suddenly taken a shine to the fact that they seem to have a new daughter, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you."

"Yeah, well I hadn't really been counting on that. Are they keeping OK?"

"Oh they're fine. Do keep in touch with them though. I know it is hard but I think it will be better in the long run."

"I know, I will."

I think she sensed some hesitation in my voice. "Nicola? Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine."

"Is there anything else?"

I tried to make a joke of it, "What trying to get your only sister off the phone?"

She laughed, "No, it's just that you sounded as if you had something else to say."

I had. She was right as always. "No, nothing else. Just wanted to say 'hi' and keep in touch."

She didn't sound convinced but she let it lie, "Well OK. Listen, take care of yourself and don't do anything stupid you hear?"

I grinned, "Yes big sis. I'll ring you again sometime soon. Love you."

"Love you too."
 

*          *          *
 
Wednesday evening came and I was patiently waiting for Jon to pick me up. I had had extreme outfit doubts all afternoon and was presently in my fourth option. I had swung between over dressed to over casual having gone from a little red dress to blouse and jeans. Finally I had settled on a white rib-knit body top and my denim miniskirt and black leather boots. I was sort of nervous about the approaching evening. Not because I was worried about going out as I was or meeting people or anything like that. I was more worried about how Jon would react. I checked my watch. He was late. The phone rang: it was Jon.

"Umm Cara, listen my crappy car seems to have died on me and I can't get it started."

"Oh I see," I paused. I tried to make sure my voice sounded amused, "So is this your excuse for standing me up or do you want me to come pick you up?"

He laughed, "Don't be silly. Get in your car and make it quick. If you don't mind?"

"Mind? An excuse to take my baby for a drive? Not a problem."

I think he took me up slightly wrong. He sounded a little worried, "Err your baby?"

I laughed, "Jon, I'm talking about my car. Sorry to disappoint you."

He laughed and sounded relieved, "Oh gotcha. See you soon."

I checked my appearance in the hall mirror as I grabbed my black suede jacket. Hair and make up looking good. I grabbed my keys and headed out. 'My baby' was sitting waiting for me and as always it was a joy to feel the finely tuned engine respond to my every command. Jon shared a house with a few guys in the Camden area. It was about 5 miles away and at this time of the evening, it was only about a ten minute journey. I did it in seven.

Having beeped my horn a few times with no response, I parked at the side of the road and went up and rang the doorbell a few times. A few minutes later, the door opened and a black haired guy looked out, "Hello?" He looked at me and then opened the door wider. "Well hello," he smiled.

I smiled a little unsurely, "Umm, is Jon Peters there?"

His expression fell a little, "Ah yeah. Sure come on in."

I waited at the bottom of the stairs while he bounded up them to get Jon. I realised why the horn pumping had been ineffective. The sounds of heavy guitar music were permeating the house. Jon came down the stairs with the guy who had let me in. They were talking and I picked up some of it. Jon looked irritated and hissed at him, "Yeah look sure, I'll see what I can do."

He turned his attention to me and blinked, "Hey Cara."

I smiled, "Hi Jon, ready to go?"

"Sure, let's split."

When we got into the car, I asked him about what his housemate had said. Jon laughed, "You don't want to know."

I grinned and throwing the car into first roared off down the street, "You realise that saying that usually makes a person want to know all the more."

He regarded me with a grin, "You really want to know?"

I nodded, "Sure."

He nodded, "Alright then. He asked me if you were my girlfriend. I said no. Then he asked if you were seeing anyone. I said I didn't think so, but do correct me if I'm wrong. Then he asked if I could set him up with a date with you."

"Oh," I replied not knowing what else to say. I felt myself flush.

He laughed and shook his head, "You did want to know."

I grinned ruefully, "That's me learnt my lesson for being nosy."

He looked out the window thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Look I know it's none of my business and feel free to tell me to get stuffed OK? But it might be kind of helpful if you were able to give me an indication of how you feel about this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"Well you know. Guys. Interested in you." He gestured to me vaguely, "Cos you know, the way you look, it's going to be a recurrent problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm not prying, but if you are interested that's fine. If not, then I know to discourage them."

I felt very uncomfortable. "Umm yeah Jon, I see what you mean. I guess you can take it that I'm not interested in guys. Best not to complicate things any further."

He nodded and thankfully changed the subject, "You do realise that I faked the whole car breakdown thing so I could get a ride in your baby don't you? Can I have a drive?"

I laughed, "Not on your life!"
 

*          *          *
 
By the time we got the car parked and arrived at the Santa Barbara in Soho, we were late and the band was about to start. It took Jon a minute or two to spot his friends. As we made our way over to them, he whispered in my ear, "Listen, these guys are a little rough and ready. Don't be surprised if they are a little forward. Don't worry though, they are all talk really."

I was a little disconcerted but smiled and nodded nonetheless. "Hey Jon!" "Mate!" "'Bout time." Various greetings exchanged, handshakes, high fives and the like. From having been around the music scene I knew the type of these guys. Heavy guitar music and correspondingly heavy drinking. There were five of them and two of them had girls with them. One guy with a moustache nodded at me, "Jon, who's the looker? Didn't know you got a new chick."

I tried not to react and bit my tongue knowing it wouldn't achieve anything anyway. Jon shrugged, "Nah, she's just a friend. Guys this is Cara. Cara meet Bobo, Lenny, Dirk, Harry and Nads."

I nodded and smiled to them all then wrinkled my brow, "Nads?"

This provoked a round of laughter. Jon looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah, no-one can remember his real name. It's not too nice a nickname; I'll tell you later what it is short for."

"I think I can work it out," I assured him.

"Wahey," said the one called Dirk, or was it Lenny? "Smart as well as good looking. Fine if you like that, not for me though." He patted the leg of his girlfriend who was smart enough to realise she was being run down and she elbowed him in response. The sparkling conversation was cut short though as the band was introduced. There was only one seat left. I noticed that one of the girls was already sitting on Harry's knee. Bobo shouted over, "Cara honey, you can sit on my knee if you want." I was about to reply when he continued, "But only as long as you can handle the pole vault." He winked.

I tried to keep the distaste from my face and just smiled politely at him as I gave him a one-fingered response. This made him laugh all the more. "I'll sit on the floor," Jon murmured.

"You can't sit on the floor, there's no room. It's filthy and you won't see a thing. Come on, I'll have to sit on your knee."

He looked awkward, "Umm, you sure about that?"

I looked at him, "I promise not to bite. But if you can't abide the thought of it, I'll have to go sit on Bobo's knee then." That did the trick. He smiled sheepishly and sat down. I sat down on his knee and perched myself sideways so he could see.

'Loud as life' certainly lived up to their name. What they lacked in finesse and quality they made up for in noise and quantity. It was formula heavy guitar rock stuff. Some of it was alright, but I soon got bored of it. Plus I was getting a little uncomfortable sitting on Jon's knee. I was sitting bolt upright and trying not to put too much weight on him. It would have been fine if I had put my arm around his neck and settled in, but I reckoned neither of us would be too happy with that. They played for just over an hour and after a fortunately short encore, they were gone. The guys we were with raved enthusiastically about the music. I reserved my own opinion. More drink was consumed, more lewd comments and generally uninteresting conversation.

"So Jon," Harry said, "You're seriously leaving the band? I mean dude, you rock. We need you. So who'd you say you're playing with now?"

Jon shifted awkwardly underneath me, "Umm well actually Cara and I are putting a band together."

The guys found this hilarious. Harry laughed heartily, "No shit man. You're playing music with this chick?"

I was pissed off now and knew I should have kept quiet, "Yes, I needed a good lead guitarist and Jon needed a new challenge. And I can see why."

Bobo snorted, "Challenge my ass. More like challenged as to how he can get into your pants. So Jon mate seriously, why go play for a chick? She giving you good head or summat?"

Jon gently lifted me to my feet and he stood also. I was a little worried as to what he was going to do, but he replied calmly, "Guys, she's right. I've had enough of this crap. Come on Cara, let's go." We walked away to a chorus of jeers and catcalls.

Once outside, I apologised, "Sorry Jon, I should have kept my mouth shut. In fact, I shouldn't have come with you."

He shrugged, "No, it's not your fault. They're all jerks. I've been trying to deny it for months, but there's no point. I'm sorry you had to hear talk like that."

"I've heard it before. But it is a little strange being on the other side of it I'll admit."

I dropped him off and drove back to Jools' place. So much for trying to have a relaxing social night out to ease the tension between Jon and me. With all the comments and goings on, it would probably make things far worse.

---

 

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 16
 
 
On Thursday morning I dressed simply in a blue blouse and jeans and minimal make up. I was due at Dr. Carson's at 9:30 a.m. and was feeling rather nervous. Jools noticed this and tried to ask me why I was so uptight. I evaded her question and said that doctors always made me nervous. This was a half truth. The other half was the decision that was weighing on my mind which I knew I would probably have to face soon after today. Although at that time, I wasn't to know just how soon that would actually be. Jools wanted to come with me, but I was adamant that I was going by myself as I didn't want to face the immediate barrage of questions after my appointment. She seemed a little miffed, but I wasn't backing down. I explained to her that I had to learn to do things myself without always having support. She didn't seem convinced, but let it rest at that.

After a short but busy rush hour tube ride, I arrived at the Harley Street consulting rooms and gave my name to the receptionist. After about twenty minutes, Dr. Carson came out and called me in.

"Hello Cara," she smiled warmly, "how are you my dear?"

I nodded and grinned, "Not too bad thanks."

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" she asked and she must have seen the expression on my face as she continued, "Oh I take it you talked to your family then?"

I nodded, "Yes. I couldn't say it was the merriest of Christmases I've ever enjoyed."

"Want to tell me about it?"

It's quite strange, but there are certain situations where it is far easier to tell total strangers things you can't tell your closest friends. I felt able to tell Dr. Carson all about what had happened and about the difficult reactions I had got from my family. I didn't go into everything, but gave her a fairly full account. I didn't tell her about my silliness with Phil, or about procuring my new I.D. She nodded and listened well, making little encouraging comments all the while. When I was done she sat back and looked ponderous for a moment.

"So Cara tell me, have you any doubts about what you are doing?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure what the expected right answer was so I decided to go with the truth. "Yes. Yes I do. I don't really think I've made a mistake, but there are times when I wonder what I am doing. I don't know if that's just to be expected or whether it means I'm doing the wrong thing."

She shook her head, "It means you are human and you have insight into your situation. If you had said that you had no doubts I would be concerned that you weren't fully appreciating the gravity of what you are doing and weren't giving it the proper consideration that you should be."

"That makes sense I guess. To be honest it's not the physical side of things that troubles me, I actually really like the changes I'm going through. I like how I look and I like being attractive. It's the emotional side that I find more difficult."

She nodded, "It is to be expected. You've lived most of your life according to what is expected of a young man. To suddenly have this turned on its head and have to react and live out what is expected from a young woman is a challenge."

"You can say that again."

She hesitated before continuing, "Now the next question is a little personal, but I think I should ask it as part of the assessment of your adjustment. Tell me, how are your feelings about your orientation, I mean sexually?"

"Uhh..." I said meaningfully.

She smiled encouragingly, "Tell me about your attractions."

"Well," I began slowly, "I guess this hasn't really been a large part of my life recently what with all the other things going on with my family and all. I'm really not sure how I feel to be honest. I know that for all intents and purposes, I'm living as a woman, but I don't think I can say that I'm particularly attracted to men and am looking for a boyfriend or anything." I tried to lighten it with a bit of humour.

She laughed, "OK, but I want you to be able to talk to me about this again. This is a difficult area and you will need to address it at some stage. You are an attractive woman and men will be attracted to you and you need to know how to react. And what you want to do with such attention."

I nodded, "I know."

"Anyway, why don't I take a look at how you've been getting on? Do you want to pop behind the curtain and slip into the gown again and I'll be with you in a jiffy?"

I did as requested and Dr. Carson came round the curtain. "Cara, may I take a look at your breasts?"

I nodded and lowered the gown. She raised her eyebrows, "Well now. Things have been busy here. I think from now on we should put you onto a lower hormone dose, a maintenance dose." She measured me and gently palpated my growing breast tissue. She then took a look down below as before. I had to admit to her that there was nothing much happening down there recently.

"How does that make you feel Cara?"

I shrugged and wrinkled my brow, "I dunno. I guess I haven't really been thinking about it. It is sort of strange, and I guess I do well miss some of the....functions. But overall, it's sort of something I expected would happen."

She nodded, "It would be in keeping with the results of your hormone profile that I got. You had a low level of androgens and borderline low testosterone level which would explain why your body has responded so rapidly to the oestrogens. Right, all done here, you can get dressed again and come on out."

I did so and took my seat again before her desk. She sat back and regarded me thoughtfully. "Cara, the last time we talked, you mentioned that you were keen to have your own breasts. Is that still how you feel?"

I swallowed and felt my heart lurch but I nodded and forced myself to reply, "Yes. That's right. It is how I feel. The breast forms are hurting me now as they compress my breasts."

She looked a little curious, "Why not stop wearing them? Let your breasts grow naturally?"

I paused for a moment but then figured I needed to explain a few more things. "Dr. Carson, I guess I should tell you a little bit more about what is going on in my life..."

I explained to her about the record deal and the need for secrecy and privacy. I explained how that as people had seen me with my 'full bosom' as I described it, that it would appear strange to suddenly downsize. That was my problem. She nodded, and chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully, "I see." She looked thoughtful for a moment or two, "There is a solution. Now I wouldn't normally recommend this so soon in your transition, but it would be possible."

"Yes?" I asked expectantly. I sort of thought I knew what she was going to say. Part of me hoped I was right, but in a strange way, another part hoped I was wrong.

"You have had enough development now to consider moving straight ahead with breast augmentation surgery. You have enough natural breast tissue for implants to provide you with the breast size you have with your breast forms. What do you think about that?"

There it was. The cruncher. Although I knew in my heart that there really was little chance of going back on what I had already come through, even had I wanted to, this step though seemed to be a definite irrevocable one. Surgery. It seemed so permanent. So final. I knew it wasn't really. What is done, could also be undone. Yet despite all these feelings, I knew what I wanted to do. My throat felt dry and I croaked, "Yes. That's what I want."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I shrugged, "As sure as I can be."

She nodded thoughtfully, "Alright. Now there are two surgeons I'd consider. Both are absolutely excellent. Their work is impeccable and they are used to dealing with private high-profile cases. The first one I think I mentioned last time does an operating list once a month in a private clinic in Belgium. Would you like me to ring his secretary and see what his schedule is like?"

I swallowed and nodded. She smiled back at me and then lifted her phone and dialled a number.

"Hello, this is Dr. Janice Carson of Harley Street. I was wondering when Mr. Bridges' next available slot for surgery might be on his Belgium list?"

A pause as she listened, "Oh, right. Nothing sooner? I see. Thank you."

She grimaced, "His next list is next week and is full, and next month's is cancelled as he is on holidays so it would be 9 weeks at the soonest."

I nodded, "You mentioned another surgeon?"

"Yes. Mr. Stretton. Although he is considerably more expensive. He does a private list in Switzerland from time to time. But it really is a costly procedure." She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I sighed and shrugged, "Money's not really a problem to be honest. Well depending on exactly how much."

She smiled, "Let me see what possibilities there are." She dialled another number, "Hello, Dr. Janice Carson of Harley Street. I have a private patient who needs discreet surgery, when would Mr. Stretton's next available list be?" A pause, "Oh really? Any availability?" Another pause, "Well if he is there, sure I'd like to talk to him." She put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to me, "He's leaving for Geneva tomorrow and is operating this weekend." Then someone came on the line as she uncovered the mouthpiece, "Hello Geoff, it's Janice here. It's been a long time. Listen, I've a private patient who needs some discreet surgery..."

I didn't hear much of the rest of the exchange. My mind was reeling. This weekend? Was I ready for this? I rationalised that I probably would never feel totally ready for it. Perhaps if an opportunity presented itself sooner rather than later it would be better as it would give less time for doubt and introspection.

"Cara," Dr. Carson called me back to reality. Her hand was again over the mouthpiece, "Geoff, Mr. Stretton could probably fit you in this weekend. His next private list is not for three months. But it will be costly. Around twenty thousand pounds for surgical and nursing care. That's probably too much isn't it?"

I thought quickly. I had the money. I wanted to do this. I decided to leap right in both feet first, "Err no, that's OK. I'm interested." Her eyebrows rose again but she shrugged and uncovered the mouthpiece, "Geoff, my patient is very interested." She proceeded to take details down over the phone and jotted them on a pad. I was to try to get flights to Geneva either tomorrow or Saturday. I was given the address of the private clinic. Mr. Stretton would see me on Saturday and assuming no contra-indications, surgery would be scheduled for Sunday. I would remain in the clinic until Thursday when he would be flying back in to do a final post op check and all being well discharge me. My head was spinning and it hardly seemed real. I made myself focus as there was something that had come into my mind.

"Umm, does he know about me? I mean you know about me not really being a woman?"

Dr. Carson shook her head, "I didn't tell him. It doesn't make any difference for the surgery. You look like a young woman who wants breast augmentation. You can tell him if you want."

I thought for a moment, "Actually, I think all things considered it would be for the best if I could just be that young woman who wants the surgery. I know this clinic is discreet but if things ever did get out, it would be better that no-one knew the real truth."

She nodded, "I can understand that."

I sighed, "But there is a problem. I'm going to be under anaesthetic and I'm sure my 'secret' down below would be noticed at some time. So I guess there is not much I can do about that."

Dr. Carson nodded sympathetically, "That is a problem. But I think we might be able to do something about that."

I raised an eyebrow, "How?"

It seemed that I wasn't the first of my type of patient who had similar wishes for absolute secrecy and privacy and Dr. Carson had a contact who made customised chastity devices. Although this was usually some form of S&M or fetish wear, it could also serve the purpose that I needed: to hide and protect my 'secret'. I did raise the protest that wouldn't the clinic staff find it strange. But Dr. Carson assured me that with the sort of patient who would be at the clinic, that is the extreme rich, nothing is too surprising. She said I could simply say I wanted to protect my dignity even under anaesthetic. However we were working to a tight schedule. She got on the phone again. It seemed that there may be a possibility to meet my deadline, but of course it would result in a premium price. She got off the phone.

"Cara, here is the address," she handed me a piece of paper, "Now don't worry, this is not seedy. Vic and Sue look on this as a family business, strange as that may sound. But you are going to have to head round there straight away if you want to have a chance of getting this sorted out."

I swallowed nervously and nodded, "OK. I guess."

She smiled, "You'll be fine. And listen, I want to see you in here the week after you get back from Geneva, you hear me?"

I grinned, "Sure thing."

As I left, I felt as if I was in a daze. Things seemed to be moving faster and faster and although I had to admit to being frightened, there also was a certain anticipation and excitement to it all. But I wasn't really relishing the prospect of my next call.
 

*          *          *
 
Vic and Sue Greenwood worked out of their own house in the east end of London. I found it easily enough and plucked up the courage to ring the bell. A young woman answered.

"Hello, Sue?" I said tentatively.

"You must be Nicola," she said with a warm smile. I had told Dr. Carson not to give the name Cara Malone to them.

"Come on in."

I went in and met her husband Vic. They both seemed very normal and down to earth. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting. They offered me a cup of coffee and as we sat and drank, I felt more at ease. They talked about what I needed. With some embarrassment I told them that I needed a chastity device that looked like a female device, but could hold a male's 'equipment'. They seemed very surprised and I had to confirm that that was indeed what I needed. This caused them a dilemma. They worked as a team and Vic would usually do the measurements for the men and Sue for the women. Sue gave me the choice of who I would be more comfortable with. I don't know why, but it seemed more appropriate for it to be Sue. And so it was that she took me into another room and performed rather intimate measurements. As I was going to need this like the next morning, they would have to work all day and a fair part of the night on it. They apologised for the price they were going to have to charge as a result. It was going to cost fifteen hundred pounds. What could I do but accept?
 

*          *          *
 
Later Jools was full of questions about how things had gone with Dr. Carson. I had already decided that I was not going to tell her what I was doing. I just felt this was something I had to do and work through myself. But I did owe my sister a phone call as I had promised her I would talk to her before doing anything like this. I fobbed Jools off with general comments, and told her I was now on a low dose maintenance oestrogen. I told her Dr. Carson was happy with my progress and left it at that.

"Umm Jools?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking of taking a little holiday break?"

"Really? When?"

"Well, this weekend for about a week."

"Wow, what's got into you?"

I shrugged, "I dunno, I think I just need some time to myself. To relax and recharge a bit. Things have been quite stressful recently."

She nodded, "I guess they have. Where were you thinking of?"

I shrugged, "I've always fancied going to Switzerland. Geneva sounds like a nice place."

Jools frowned, "Won't it be fairly wintry and cold at this time of year?"

I nodded, "Yeah, but there's something nice about the snow, the cold, fresh air and all that."

"I suppose. Look, I'm not too busy, to be honest, I wouldn't mind a little break."

"Jools, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I think I could really do with some time to myself."

She looked a little taken aback, "Err OK. And you're happy about you know, travelling as Cara?"

I shrugged, "I've got a valid passport, I don't see any problems, do you?"

She shook her head, "I suppose not. Are you sure you are OK?"

"I'm fine, I just need a break and then I'll be able to get right back into the song writing. The time might help me get some more inspiration." Yeah right.

She seemed to accept this, albeit reluctantly. Next I phoned Jon and let him know I'd be away for a week and would give him a shout when I got back. He accepted it at face value and didn't seem too fussed.

"Hi Claire?"

"Hi...Nicola? Wow, two phone calls in one week, this is most unprecedented."

I chuckled, "Yes, I guess it is..."

"So what can I do for you?"

I paused, "Err Claire. You remember when we were talking at Christmas?"

"Ye-es. But you are going to have to be a bit more specific; we talked about a lot of things."

"Well you remember when you said I was to phone you before doing anything...radical?"

"Yes...wait, what's going on Nicola?"

I explained what my plans were and she seemed quite surprised. When she recovered from the initial shock, she was quite determined about one thing.

"I'm coming with you."

"Claire, it's OK, you don't have to do that."

"Look, do you think I'm going to let you head off to Switzerland, go through surgery and all it entails by yourself? Get real sister, I am coming with you."

"But what about your work, I mean I'm planning to fly out Saturday morning?"

"I'll sort it out, they will have to manage. I am coming with you."

I sighed, "OK Claire, you don't have to do this though."

"I do, of course I do. I said I'd be there for you and I will."

I paused. In a sense I felt glad and relieved. "Thanks Claire."

And so it was that I booked two British Airways flights from Heathrow to Geneva leaving Saturday morning with an open-ended return.
 

*          *          *
 
On Friday morning, I returned to Vic and Sue's house. They had worked halfway through the night and I felt bad. I apologised but they laughed and told me not to as I was paying for their lack of sleep. Sue again took me into the other room and I stripped down again. She brought out the device. It was made of a grey plastic-acrylic composite. There was a little small tube for my manhood to go into and she assured me that I would still be able to perform all necessary bodily functions. She gently fitted it onto me and clicked the waistband into place. It felt strange, but not uncomfortable. She checked it out from all sides and seemed satisfied. She told me that normally they would advise a customer to wear it for 24 hours and then to return for a check up, but I had told her that wouldn't be possible.

She gave me three keys and showed me how the locking mechanism worked. She assured me that it was quite secure. Although it wasn't metal, it could not be cut off without professional tools and risk of personal injury. In the event that I did lose the three keys, they kept spare master keys. I was very impressed with their workmanship and told them so. When I pulled my panties up, there was absolutely no bulge and my appearance was completely feminine. I gave them their hard-earned cheque and thanked them. They thanked me for giving them a challenging new design to prepare. Before I left, I had to ask about personal privacy and they assured me that their whole business was built on discretion and that I had nothing to worry about. I was a little perturbed that two more people potentially could reveal the truth, but I tried to put this out of my mind.

The rest of the day was spent with me getting packed and ready for my trip. We were flying out very early the next morning. Claire was going to stay with a friend nearby and get a taxi to swing by and pick me up the next morning to take us to the airport.
 

*          *          *
 
"Morning," Claire yawned at me as I got into the taxi.

"Hi. Early start isn't it?"

"Far too early. Please tell me you haven't been out for a run at this ungodly hour?"

I laughed, "No, too early even for the new me."

"Good," she paused, "So are you sure about this?" She looked at me with concern in her eyes.

I shrugged, "I guess. As sure as I ever will be. I'm not going to pretend I don't have some doubts and I'm not saying I'm not just a little bit scared. But this is what I want."

She nodded, "As long as you have thought this through."

"I have. It makes sense and I do want to go through with this." I paused and turned to look at her, "It means a lot to me that you dropped everything to come with me. I mean, I didn't expect it."

She grinned and squeezed my arm, "As I said, there is no way on this earth I'd even dream of letting you do this on your own."

"Were you able to get the time off work OK?"

She shrugged, "It wasn't easy, the boss grumbled a bit, but I said my sister was being taken into hospital and I had to be with her. What could he say?" She grinned, "Anyway, if I wasn't able to get away, I was going to send Mum in my place."

I'm sure I went white and looked at her sharply, "Uhh what?"

She laughed, "Had you there. That would have been a shock to you, wouldn't it? But on that theme, don't you think you should tell Mum and Dad. I mean, after all that has happened, don't you think it is better overall to keep them in the loop?"

I nodded, "Absolutely."

"So you are going to tell them what you are doing?"

"I am going to tell them what I have done, once it is over."

"You think that is best?"

I sighed, "I don't know, but I know that I can't face the inquisition and questions right now. I'm nervous enough and I've made my mind up. I will tell them when we get back." I rubbed my eyes, "Can't say I'm looking forward to the prospect. How do you think they'll react?"

Claire gave me one of her looks, "I think they'll flip again."

I grimaced, "Yes, I think they will too." I exhaled slowly, "This is difficult."

She was silent for a minute, and then spoke softly, "It is. I don't think it can be any other way, and being honest, I think it will continue to be difficult. They haven't really accepted this all. It is more resigned reluctance on their part, but I think this will bring it all to the fore again. I don't mean to make things harder for you, but I just want to check you have thought it through."

I nodded and gave her a wan smile, "I know. I'm really grateful for you being with me. I know that you have found it hard to accept too, but I really appreciate the efforts you are making."

She shrugged, "It's your decision. I have to accept it and I may have lost a brother, but I don't want to lose a sister also."
 

*          *          *
 
The check in at the airport was uneventful. I did have a brief moment of irrational fear at passport control, but it was unwarranted. I was exactly as my passport indicated: a young woman. The flight took an hour and a half and I tried to doze but my mind was too active. Claire didn't have any such problem and went into a coma as soon as the plane was airborne. We passed through customs and passport control in Geneva International airport without incident and hailed a taxi cab outside after collecting our baggage. I let Claire do the talking as she was more fluent in French than I was. It wouldn't have been hard.

"Bonjour Monsieur. Clinique médicale privée de Gená¨ve, s'il vous plait," Claire said which impressed me no end.

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulders, "Savez-vous oá¹ c'est?"

I was lost and hoped that Claire was following this. She was. She checked the address on the card I had and replied, "Oui. Rue de Vidollet."

"Ah bien sá»r," the taxi driver clicked his fingers and moved the car into gear.

I nudged Claire, "Good to see you're making yourself useful. She poked me in the ribs in response and surreptitiously stuck her tongue out at me. The clinic was in an upscale neighbourhood. It was a modern yet tasteful two storey building. I felt nauseated as we walked up to the entrance. The doors slid apart and we walked in. The lobby was so plush that one could have been forgiven for mistaking it for a luxury hotel. The thought entered my mind that not many luxury hotels would cost as much for a five or six night stay as this one would. The receptionist smiled as we approached the desk, "Bonjour madames, comment est-ce que je peux vous aider?"

I smiled helplessly and looked at Claire, she murmured to me, "Oh come on, even you can do this one?"

I looked at her blankly. She just smiled and turned to the receptionist, "Parlez-vous anglais?" I grinned, I understood now.

The receptionist nodded and in near accent less English replied, "But of course madame. How can I help you?" Claire turned to me and indicated for me to reply.

I smiled nervously, "Umm hello. My name is Cara Malone. I'm booked in to see Mr. Stretton."

The receptionist tapped on the keyboard on front of her and looked at her monitor, "Ah yes Miss Malone. You have been allocated Room 106. Just let me call a nurse for you and she will show you where that is and get you checked in."

I thanked her. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't actually a hotel. I was almost looking for the bell boy to take my luggage up for me. It wasn't long before a young dark haired nurse came along, "Bonjour, áªtes-vous Cara Malone?"

The receptionist called out, "En anglais Marie."

The nurse smiled apologetically, "Sorry. Cara Malone?"

I stood up and nodded, "Yes that's me."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Marie and I will be your primary nurse during your stay with us. Please follow me and I will take you to your room."

I followed her up and when I saw my room, it was reminiscent of a hotel room. Except for the hospital bed that is. Apart from that, it was nicely carpeted, it had a tea and coffee maker, television and ensuite bathroom. Marie took down my details and asked about any medical problems I had or any medications I was on. I didn't have much to tell her. She checked my pulse, temperature and blood pressure. Then she took a blood sample and separated it into a few different bottles. She explained that these were routine preoperative blood tests. She left Claire and I alone and said that Mr. Stretton would be along shortly. As advised by Marie, I changed into a nightdress.

I couldn't relax and found myself pacing up and down the room. Claire found this to be a mixture of amusing and irritating, but I couldn't help it. It was different from a hotel though: you didn't have to ring for room service here, it just arrived itself. Two trays were brought in for Claire and me. A light salad and bowl of soup with yoghurts and orange juice. Very healthy. I ate very little of it. Unlike Claire who didn't have any appetite problems. It was about three p.m. when a tall dark haired man with a trim moustache knocked lightly on the door before walking in. He was dressed in surgical scrubs. Marie followed him in.

"Hello, I'm Digby Stretton," he smiled at me and in his crisp upper class accent continued, "You must be Cara Malone." He shook my hand, "And this is?" He turned to Claire.

I realised a potential for confusion here and didn't want to explain the whole Malone/Evans thing. "Umm this is my sister Claire," I left it at that. He shook her hand and then asked her if she wouldn't mind leaving us for a few moments. Claire did as she was asked.

"Now Miss Malone I believe you are here for breast augmentation surgery, no?"

I swallowed and nodded, "That's right."

He smiled, "Well let me put you at ease. You have come to the right place. It's not a matter of boasting, but to give you confidence let me assure you that I count myself as a leading expert in this cosmetic field. I perform more of these operations each year than almost anyone in Europe and I pride myself on performing surgery that is unnoticeable within a month post op. Does that make you feel better? You look very tense my dear."

I smiled and nodded, "Yes thanks." He had a smooth bedside manner which was obviously practiced and polished. But it did have the desired effect.

"Now Miss Malone, may I examine you?" I nodded and smiled nervously. Marie squeezed my hand and helped me cover my lower half with a sheet as I lifted up my nightdress. I felt very embarrassed. Although I was still adjusting to my new self, at that point I was very much a woman. And being examined by a man was disconcerting. I was glad Marie was there. He gently examined my breasts. There was nothing improper about it, it was clinical and professional, but I was still glad to lower my nightdress when he was finished.

"Now Miss Malone, I see from Dr. Carson's referral that you are wanting D cup breasts is that right?"

I flushed and nodded, "Err yes."

"Don't be embarrassed my dear. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I can guarantee you that you will be most satisfied with the outcome. I can guarantee you that you will have the breasts that you desire." He winked, "Although there is one thing I won't be able to do."

I raised an eyebrow, "What's that?"

He smiled, "I won't be able to make you any more beautiful."

I laughed and felt myself flush again. Marie tutted lightheartedly, "Monsieur Stretton!"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Merely speaking the truth my dears, nothing more, nothing less." He went on to explain the basic details of the surgery, possible complications and the post operative care. I nodded at several points but had difficulty taking all of it in. Marie produced a consent form. Mr. Stretton signed it first to indicate that he had explained the procedure to me. He then asked me if I had any questions. I didn't. I took the form and signed my name, Cara Malone, in the required space. I was going to be the first case on the morning list the next day. He breezed out with Marie in his wake and although I did feel more at ease, as time moved on bringing me closer to surgery, I felt more nervous tension building up. Claire stayed with me all afternoon and evening. After she had left to head for her nearby hotel, I felt suddenly alone and vulnerable. Marie had gone off shift and the night nurse was called Antoinette. She was older and more matron-like, but not unfriendly. I didn't think I would sleep too well so I gratefully accepted the offer of a night sedative. It worked well.
 

*          *          *
 
I wasn't offered any breakfast the next morning as I was fasting for surgery. I didn't miss it as my stomach was doing somersaults. I had changed into my theatre gown. It really is impossible to protect your dignity in those things. I was glad of my 'covering' down below and the key was safely tucked away in a pocket inside my suitcase. Let them think what they wanted about it, I didn't care. At eight o'clock, I was wheeled down to the theatre suite. A middle-aged balding man in scrubs introduced himself to me, "Hello Miss Malone, I am Dr. Bob Fitzgerald and I will be your anaesthetist. It's my job to make sure you have a nice sleep while Digby works his magic on you. Now let me slip an IV cannula into your arm." He put a tourniquet on my arm and tapped on a vein on the front of my elbow joint. "A little scratch now," he warned as he slipped a needle in. The pain was only momentary and then it was done. He taped the cannula into place. He drew up a syringe of white liquid and brought it over.

"What's that?" I asked nervously.

He smiled kindly, "It's a drug called Propofol, otherwise known as magic milk. As I inject this, you count to ten with me and I guarantee you will be doing well to get past 6 or 7."

I didn't think that anything short of a hammer to the head would put me out as my heart thumped against the inside of my ribs. He placed the syringe into the injection port of the cannula, "Now count with me." He began to inject.

I counted with him, "One...two...three...four...five..."

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-17. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 17
 
 
I walked out onto the stage to rapturous applause. The lights went up and nearly blinded me. Through the glare, I could just about make out the sea of faces and bodies that had packed the auditorium. The heat from the lighting was overwhelming. I felt myself begin to perspire.

Jon walked over to me. "Are you sure you are OK?" he shouted into my ear, "You look awful."

I swallowed and murmured, "I'll be alright." I didn't feel alright though. I walked over to my microphone stand, forced a smile and waved at the crowd. I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me and it was all I could do to stop myself from grimacing. I heard Kevin count the band in and the music started. The stage began to spin and I heard a voice that sounded like mine say, "I'm gonna be sick."

The lights began to fade and Jon rushed over to me as I swayed, "Cara? Cara?"

"Cara? Cara, are you OK?" It wasn't Jon, it was Claire. I wasn't on stage, I was in bed. I did feel sick though and promptly threw up in the dish that Claire was holding in front of me. I was in the clinic.

"Are you OK?" she repeated softly.

I shuddered as another wave of nausea passed over me. I pushed my hair back from my face and grabbed the dish as I was sick again. After a few more retches, I lay back on the bed and enjoyed a temporary respite from the debilitating nausea. I groaned and croaked, "I want to die."

Claire smiled sympathetically and wiped my brow, "Don't be silly. It's just the after effects of the anaesthetic."

"What time is it?" I asked groggily.

"It's just after lunch. I thought you were awake earlier, but you were only semiconscious."

I shifted my position on the bed and another sensation entered my realm of newfound consciousness: pain. "Ow," I murmured. It wasn't excruciating, but there was a dragging sort of discomfort coming from my chest.

"Sore?" Claire asked.

"A little. Not too bad." I paused, "Did everything go OK?"

Claire nodded and smiled, "Yes. I was talking briefly to Mr. Stretton. He said the surgery couldn't have gone any better."

I nodded and forced a wan smile, "Good. Can I go home now?"

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Claire humoured me and laughed, "Maybe later sis."

I looked down at my chest and there were two large mounds there. I peeped inside my gown, but my view was obstructed by a bandage.

"No peeking yet," Claire said with a twinkle in her eye, "All in good time." She turned to the table behind her and picked up a glass, "Want a sip of water?"

I did. My throat felt like a desert that was crying out for rain. I took a sip gingerly and then took another drink. I left it at that as I felt the demon of nausea begin to raise its horns again. I lay back on the bed, but before long had to reach for the dish again as I promptly returned the water I had consumed to the outside world once more. When it settled, I flopped back on the bed, "I feel like total crap."

Claire squeezed my hand, "Want me to call Marie and see if there is anything they can do to make you feel better?" I nodded and she slipped out. Marie came and made all the right sympathetic noises and asked how I was feeling. I didn't try to hide how bad I was feeling, I didn't think I could. She gave me an injection into my IV cannula. I asked what it was and she told me it was cyclimorph. It would ease the pain and nausea and perhaps let me get some sleep. I was sceptical, but was thankfully proved wrong as I felt myself drifting off to sleep before too long. I spent most of the rest of Sunday drifting in and out of sleep and wasn't too aware of my surroundings or of what was going on.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning when I awoke, I felt one hundred percent better. It wouldn't have been hard given how I had felt the day before. My head felt fuzzy and my stomach wasn't on the best terms with the rest of my body, but it had called a temporary ceasefire it seemed. The discomfort in my chest was more marked. Given the choice, I would take pain and discomfort over the nausea any day.

"Morning Cara," Marie breezed in. "How are you today?"

I smiled, less forced than yesterday. "Much better. A little sore, but not too bad."

She nodded and asked tentatively, "Want to try a little breakfast?" She saw the expression on my face, "I think you should try to eat something. You won't feel better until you do." We compromised with me agreeing to try some tea and toast. I felt a little rise of nausea as I ate, but thankfully it didn't come to anything and I managed to keep my breakfast down. When Marie came back in to take the breakfast things away, I couldn't keep myself from asking, "Umm Marie? When do the bandages come off?"

She smiled warmly, "Can't wait to see Mr. Stretton's handiwork?" She sat down beside me, "You do realise that things will be badly bruised for several days and won't look anything like you expect? And the scars will have to heal?"

I nodded, "I know, I was just wondering. Oh, where are the scars? I remember he said beforehand that they could either be under the breasts, in the armpit or around the nipples. What did he do in the end?"

"The scars are under your breasts and if Mr. Stretton's previous work is anything to go by, in a week or two you will find it hard to see where they were. The large bandage will come off tomorrow morning and we will see how things are at that time. For now, I think we should get you up out of bed and onto your feet and get a little wash, no?"

With Marie's help, I tentatively found my feet and realised that I hadn't lost the power of locomotion despite my fears. I washed my face and felt much better for it. Any movement did aggravate the discomfort in my chest, but it really wasn't that distressing. I mentioned this to Marie, "I thought I would be in more pain afterwards."

"The anaesthetist performed what is called a rib block. He injected some local anaesthetic around the nerve roots that supply the skin and subcutaneous tissues of the chest. You probably feel a bit numb there. But I am afraid it will probably begin to wear off later today." She was right, I did feel numb on my chest now that she mentioned it. I hadn't really noticed it until now. The prospect of it wearing off was a little disconcerting, but Marie assured me that I could get painkillers later if needed. After washing I wanted to get back into bed, but Marie was having none of it. She made me change into a fresh nightdress and encouraged me to do something with my hair, maybe add a little makeup and then to sit in the chair and either read or watch TV. She smiled and told me I had to make myself feel human again. I took her word for it and did as she advised.

Claire arrived in midmorning and I was delighted to see her. I couldn't bear thinking about how I would have felt if I was here alone. I was really grateful for her presence and told her so.

"Pffft," she said as she waved a hand in my general direction, "You would do the same for me." I hoped that I would. She went on, "You're looking great, how do you feel?"

"Much much better," I said with feeling. We chatted and read, watched some TV - thank goodness for cable that provided channels in English. The few Swiss channels that we flicked through didn't appear too inspiring. At lunchtime I managed a light salad and at dinnertime I actually felt the faint stirrings of hunger returning like a long lost friend. The chicken and pasta bake that I was given tasted like the most delectable food on earth. The discomfort had built up throughout the day as Marie had predicted and I gladly availed myself of the proffered analgesics.
 

*          *          *
 
"Now, let's have a look," Marie said brightly. I had just finished breakfast and apparently it was time to remove the bandages and see what lay beneath. I had a strange mixture of feelings as Marie began to remove the bandages. A bit of apprehension and fear, but also the feeling that a young child gets as they strip the wrapping paper from a present wondering what will be inside. Wisely Marie had encouraged me to take some painkillers at breakfast in anticipation of this moment. It was uncomfortable. At last the bandages were off and I found myself looking at my breasts. My very large breasts. There was a fair amount of bruising, but nonetheless, I was looking at a shapely bosom. I was a bit perturbed at the size of them. Marie noticed.

"What's wrong Cara?"

"Uhh, I was just wondering, they seem a bit bigger than what I was expecting?"

She nodded, "There is some swelling as a reaction to the surgery. It will settle in the next few days. Now let me look at the scars. I am going to have to lift each breast up in turn and it may be a little painful." She was right. It was quite uncomfortable, but I gritted my teeth. When she was done she nodded, "Everything is coming along fine, I have rubbed a little antiseptic cream onto the wounds and covered them with gauze. Now, you get to wear your first bra for your new breasts, but I am afraid it is not the most fashionable." She showed me the surgical bra which looked like an unrefined reinforced harness. She helped me slip it over my head and gently placed my breasts into the cups. She assured me that it was required for just a few days until the swelling went down and to let the wounds continue to heal.

Claire joined me before long and we spent another long day chatting and watching TV. Time was beginning to drag and I apologised to Claire that she had to spend a week of her leave in such a boring fashion. She again told me not to worry about it. I knew she was keen to see my new breasts and she dropped hints accordingly. I smiled and firmly told her that she could see them in a few days perhaps once things had settled down. I was beginning to go stir crazy in this room and when Marie came in later that afternoon, I almost began to plead with her.

"Marie, I'm going crazy here. Is there any way I can get out of here for some time tomorrow?"

She laughed and nodded, "I'm sure we can accommodate that." With what I was paying for this, I was sure they could too. She continued, "If you want, you could go out with Claire for a few hours tomorrow, maybe go out for lunch if you wanted?" It sounded good to both of us and was the only thing that kept me sane for the rest of the day.
 

*          *          *
 
Wednesday was a glorious clear and sunny winter's day and I was itching to get out of the clinic. However Marie wasn't going to be rushed. Again she inspected the wounds and seemed most pleased. "You are healing very well. I should think that you could wear an ordinary support sports bra by tomorrow after your stitches are removed by Mr. Stretton."

It was pure joy to get dressed in normal clothes. Even though it was just a simple blouse and pair of jeans. Marie warned me not to overdo it. If I walked too much, I could put too much stress on my chest and feel the worse for it. I did take her warning seriously, but I still couldn't wait to get outside. So when Claire arrived she barely got into the room before I took her by the arm and wheeled her around.

The air outside smelt sweet and fresh. It was crisp and cold, but I revelled in just being out in it and not cooped up in my little room. We walked down the Rue de Vidollet and then turned right and headed into the centre of the city. The sensation of my breasts moving as I walked was very strange. Yes there was some discomfort, but the feeling of movement on my chest was far from unpleasant. It was very different to how things had felt when I wore the breast forms. There had not been much natural movement with them I now realised. Claire in her typically intuitive way must have realised what I was thinking, "Feel good do they?" She grinned at me.

I laughed and reddened a little, "Well, yes. They do actually."

"Glad you did it?"

I nodded firmly, "Yes. Just as well you didn't ask me that on Sunday afternoon though. The answer may have been quite different."

We walked down to the lakeside. Lac Léman apparently is what it is called. Philistines like me thought its real name was Lake Geneva, but Claire astutely informed me of my error. Irrespective of what it should be called, it was beautiful. A crystal clear lake with hills rising from each side of it. And it was massive. We stood at the lakeside for about fifteen minutes as I drank in the scenery. Then we retired to a little café overlooking the lake and enjoyed coffee which then ran into lunch. Claire and I had talked a lot over the last few days. There had been little else to do. I felt a lot closer to her now than I think I ever had done before. I mentioned this to her.

She smiled, "Yes, I know what you mean. I'm sure a lot of it is down to time with each other, but I think there is something more. I'm getting kind of used to relating to you as a sister more and more. It's a different sort of relationship." I thought she was right and I thought I liked it. After lunch though, I had something else in mind.

"You want to go shopping?" Claire queried as she screwed up her face, "Don't you think you might be overdoing the whole girl thing a little?"

"No, it's not that. I have a few specific things in mind."

"Huh?"

I sighed and spelt it out for her, "I need some new bras."

"Oh," she said as the penny dropped.

We avoided some of the upscale lingerie shops as Claire suspected they would have wanted to measure me to get an exact fit. I didn't want to have someone measuring me yet as I was still a little tender. We found what we needed in a general boutique and I bought several new bras. Some practical and some that were well less than practical. I also couldn't resist buying myself a new top. It was a lilac low cut top that I knew would show cleavage. Claire laughed when she saw what I was at and made several comments using words like shameless, flaunt and the like. I didn't care. I bought one in black as a present for Jools. I couldn't come back from my 'holiday' empty handed after all.

It was late afternoon when we got back to the clinic and Marie chided me gently for being out so long. She asked me how I felt and when I thought about it, I realised that it wasn't so much my chest that was sore, but rather my lower back. I mentioned this and was quite puzzled by it. Marie quirked an eyebrow and informed me as to the effects of the extra weight I now possessed on the front of my chest. I was quite exhausted after the day's activities and decided to turn in early.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, I really felt good. My insides felt back to normal and my appetite was up to scratch again. I was permitted to have a shower as long as I kept the surgical support bra on and let Marie check the wounds when I came out. The warm water beating my body was luxurious and I felt properly clean for the first time in days. I subjected myself willingly to Marie's ministrations after I had dried off. She nodded approvingly, "It all looks very good. The wounds have united and I think Mr. Stretton will be most satisfied. I do not think you need the surgical bra any longer. Do you have a suitable one of your own?" I did and with her help, I slipped on a sports bra. It felt more comfortable and I couldn't help but revel in the sensation of holding my own breasts and feel them move on my chest. A lot of the swelling had gone down and the bruising was fading into the typical yellow brown colour. Whilst they were not as big relatively speaking with the diminished swelling, they were still not what you would call small. I thought they were overall probably a little larger than I had been when wearing the breast forms but I didn't think it would be noticeable. I really was very pleased. Marie noticed.

"You like them?" she said with a smile.

I grinned, "I do, is it that obvious?"

She nodded, "It is quite obvious. You should be pleased, they really do suit you."

"Thanks," I beamed. I dressed in a red polo neck top and black skirt and took a fair bit of time doing my hair and makeup. If all went well when Mr. Stretton saw me, I would hopefully be getting discharged later in the day.

It was just before midday when Mr. Stretton breezed in with a cursory knock on the door and Marie trailing in his wake. He was smartly dressed in a dark pinstripe suit. "Ah my dear Miss Malone! How are you?"

I smiled, "Very well thank you."

"Have you had any problems?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I felt quite sick after the anaesthetic and I've had a little discomfort, but it's all fairly well settled."

He nodded and rubbed his hands together, "Good, good. Now can I take a look at the end result?"

I slipped off my top and unclasped my bra and removed it. He moved in and gently examined my breasts. He lifted each one up and examined the wounds. Marie handed him a stitch cutter. I steeled myself in case it would hurt, but he deftly removed the stitches and I didn't even feel it. He inspected one last time and then told me I could put my bra on again which I did.

"Everything looks wonderful," he said and then winked, "Even though I say so myself. But seriously, you are young and healthy and heal well. The wound is in the skin crease just under your breasts and even now is barely noticeable. In a few weeks, even with close inspection, you will be hard pressed to find it. When the bruising fades, anyone would have difficulty telling that you have undergone surgery. Except for the fact that nature rarely hands out such perfect breasts as you now have."

I wasn't sure if he was complimenting me or his handiwork, but I felt myself flush nonetheless. "Thank you so much Mr. Stretton."

He smiled, "Are you pleased with the end result?"

I nodded and said emphatically, "Very much so."

He paused, "Now you might find they are slightly larger than a D cup which you had wanted. It is often hard to correlate the volume of implant with the resulting cup size so what I do is make a judgement as to which side it would be better to err on. In your case, with your form and figure, a larger breast appears very fetching and attractive. Certainly in my opinion anyway, so I hope you will forgive me if I have delivered even a little more than I had promised."

I laughed a little self-consciously as I pulled my top on again, "That's fine, I am very happy."

He shook my hand, "It was a pleasure Miss Malone, an undoubted pleasure. I'll let Marie sort out the formalities and you can be on your way this afternoon. I am so satisfied with things today that I don't think I even need to see you for a further post operative check. I understand you will be seeing Dr. Carson in the near future again so if there are any problems, she can get in touch with me. Farewell, my dear."

And he was gone, breezing on to his next patient. Employing him had been an expensive little manoeuvre but it brought to mind oft quoted words of my father, 'you get what you pay for'. He was right and all things considered, I was happy enough to write the cheque when Marie brought the invoice. I had thought that writing a cheque for fifteen thousand pounds when buying my car was quite something, but writing a cheque for twenty thousand pounds? It didn't seem like real money and I imagined that was what it was like when one had a lot of it. Did it devalue money? Does it make you value things less? I hoped not.

Claire arrived just after lunch to help me with my things as I was leaving. However she had her mind set on one thing. "Cara Malone, Nicola Evans, sister of mine: we are not leaving this room until you show me the results of this week's endeavour. I think you owe me at least that." She winked.

I laughed, "Alright, fair point." I closed the door and then sat down on the bed and slipped off my top. Claire whistled softly, "What a cleavage!"

"I suppose you want me to take my bra off too?" I asked.

She grinned, "Well, I want to see it all."

I sighed theatrically and slipped my bra off. Claire seemed impressed, "They are beautiful. Amazing. They look so natural. If that bruising wasn't there..." She thought for a moment and then continued, "Where are the scars? I can't see them."

I lifted my breasts up gently, "Underneath, look."

She looked, "Wow, I can barely see them. Impressive workmanship indeed." I grinned proudly and slipped my bra and top back on. Claire mused, "Almost makes me think about getting mine done." She cupped her own breasts.

"Pfft," I said, "you don't need any enhancement."

She grinned, "Well I didn't think so until I saw yours. So tell me, how much did this all cost? You have evaded that question all week."

I grimaced and told her and she blinked several times, "Wow. I think I'll live with my little C cups."

We both laughed and headed down the corridor with Claire carrying my suitcase. At the nurses' station I went over to Marie and hugged her gently taking care not to compress my breasts, "Thank you so much for looking after me and I'm sorry if I caused you any hassle."

She smiled and hugged me back, "Not at all Cara, you were a joy to look after. Good bye and who knows, maybe we see you back here sometime?"

I laughed, "Maybe, but I doubt it." We went outside to where Claire had a taxi waiting. It was going to take us to Claire's hotel. I was going to share her room that night as we were flying back to London the next morning.
 

*          *          *
 
We had a quiet dinner in the hotel and retired to bed in good time. I was still a bit low on energy and figured that was to be expected. We checked out the next morning and headed for the airport. The flight was uneventful except for the inevitable circling over Heathrow, and we touched down around lunchtime. The taxi dropped me off at Jools place and then took Claire back to her friend's house where she had left her car. I had asked her if she wanted to come in, but she was keen to be on her way and get home before dark. I gave her a hug, "Claire you are without doubt the best sister a girl could have. I can never thank you enough for this week." My voice wavered and I felt the dreaded emotion welling up and my eyes began to sting. Inwardly I cursed the effects of the female hormones and what they could do to me in situations like this. Claire was subject to the same problem. I saw her swallow and her eyes glisten. She hugged me tightly, and whispered, "Thanks." We decided to stop the goodbyes there before we both ended up in floods of tears. I stood and waved until the taxi turned the corner. I thanked God for a sister like Claire. She was determined and strong, yet faithful and compassionate.

I lugged my case up the stairs and winced as I felt a few twinges of discomfort from my chest. I set it down at the top and called out, "Anyone home?" There was no answer. I presumed Jools was out somewhere. I unpacked my things in my room and, tired after the travelling, decided to have a nap. When I came to it was late afternoon and I heard music playing. Jools apparently had arrived home. I yawned, rubbed my eyes and gave my hair a cursory brush. I walked out into the living room. Jools was sitting reading something.

"Hi Jools," I said.

She jumped, "Oh my god, Cara you scared the crap out of me. I didn't know you were here. When did you get home?"

I smiled apologetically, "Sorry. I arrived back about lunchtime and was tired so I decided to have a snooze."

She regained her composure, "Well have a good time?"

I grinned, "Yes, I guess I did."

Jools sat and smiled expectantly at me, "Well?"

I wrinkled my brow, "Well what?"

She sighed, "Did you get me a present?"

I laughed, "I knew you would be looking for a present. Let me go and see what I can find." I went and got the black low cut top that I had bought for Jools and brought it out to her.

"Ooooh," she said holding it up against herself. "Nice. A little naughty, but nice. Thanks I love it."

I nodded, "I thought you would." I casually added, "I got myself one too, but in lilac."

Jools frowned a little, "Erm Cara, it's sort of a little low cut. I'm not sure but it might sort of let your breast forms show."

I played along with her, "Oh, do you think so." I grimaced, "Yeah, hadn't thought of that. Maybe I should try it on."

Jools nodded, "I think that would be wise. Hey, where are you going?"

I turned, "No time like the present."

I went into my room quickly before I lost my straight face. I had a little snigger to myself. I knew I was being bad but couldn't help it. I took off my blouse and sports bra. I put on one of my new under wired bras and pulled my new top on. I checked out my appearance in the mirror and smiled broadly. As I thought. There was more than a hint of cleavage on show. I wandered back out. Jools was reading again.

"Umm, what do you think Jools?"

She looked up and set her papers down as she stood up and walked over. "Let me see...." She stopped and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes goggled and she murmured, "Oh....my.....god......I don't believe it.....is this some sort of joke."

I smiled and shook my head, "Afraid not."

She came over and took a closer look. "I don't believe it," she said almost accusingly, "What have you done? Holiday my foot! You're a little schemer."

I giggled, "Guilty as charged."

"Let me see," she said clicking her fingers.

"Jools," I protested, "That wouldn't be very modest."

"Oh come on," she said, "you know you want to."

I laughed, "OK well just this once." I slipped off my top, but kept my bra on. Jools marvelled, "This is amazing. I can't believe you have actually done this. How? Where?"

I put my top back on and sat down and talked Jools through it all. I apologised for not telling her but explained that it was a decision I had to take myself and that Claire was the only one who knew. She didn't seem to mind.

"Awesome Cara. But are you sure about all this? It's sort of pretty much an irrevocable step."

I nodded, "I know Jools. But let's face it, all the steps leading up to this have made this decision for me. I can't go back, heck I don't want to go back. So I have to move forward. I'm happy."

She grinned, "We're going to have more shopping to do. Think of all the things you can wear now. And just wait until the summer stuff is in the shops!" We laughed and chatted more as we organised a bite of dinner.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-17. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 18
 
 
I had rang Jon over the weekend to let him know I was back and to arrange for him to come round again the following week. He arrived mid morning on Monday.

"Hey Cara, how was the holiday?"

"Good, thanks."

He nodded, "Get up to anything exciting?"

If only he knew. "Nah, sort of quiet, relaxing, you know. You been up to anything?"

He shrugged, "Did the last two gigs with the guys last week. To be honest, I'm glad to see the back of them. They were starting to get to me."

I grinned, "I can imagine."

Jon knelt down and got his guitar out, "Let's play?"

That was the end of the small talk it seemed. We played through the five songs a few times to ensure that we still knew where we were going with them. We did, and it was tight. It was good to play again. Although I found I had to be more controlled with my guitar. If I forgot myself, it could knock against my breasts and cause a shooting painful reminder to me to be more careful. I did it again and winced.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked. He had noticed my expression.

"Uhh nothing really," I thought quickly, "I think I may have strained something."

"All that exercise you are now doing. Always said exercise was over rated," he replied.

I took the offered way out, "Yeah I guess it could be that." Although part of me sort of wanted to tell Jon what I had done, I felt it wouldn't exactly help. Things were stilted enough without me making him feel even more uncomfortable. I reckoned that he would work it out in time. Or not, but it probably didn't matter. Over lunch I tried to engage in the sort of normal conversation we once enjoyed.

"So Jon, seeing anyone at the moment?"

"Huh?" he said looking up with an almost startled expression on his face. I repeated the question.

"Err," he seemed flustered, "well, no not really. Not for the last month or two actually."

I grinned and teased, "What the mighty Jon Peters without a girlfriend. What has gone wrong with the world?"

He was rising to the bait, "There's nothing wrong. Been busy you know, and what are you trying to imply? That I'm some sort of womaniser?"

I shrugged and feigned innocence, "Oh nothing. Just strange, you don't normally seem to have any problem finding a girl." I looked up, "Hmm, maybe it's age. Is your hair thinning a little on top?"

He self consciously ran a hand through his sandy fair hair, "Hey, no way. Might be receding a little bit but that's all." He realised I was teasing and he laughed, "Nice try. I'm not going to rise to it." He paused and then raised an eyebrow, "Why? You seeing anyone at the moment then Miss Cupid?"

I smiled beatifically, "No, but then I was always the one who had the trouble getting the dates, unlike you."

He snorted, "I don't see it being much of a problem for you from now on."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

The casual easy atmosphere that had developed with the familiar banter evaporated almost instantly. "Umm, well...you know. With the way you look and all now." He resumed eating.

After lunch we began to work on a new song. Jon had put together a few chords into a catchy riff on the guitar. It had a good beat and we played around with it and tweaked it about. He didn't have any lyrics or any ideas, but we soon had the music for a verse and chorus. I was humming along trying to find a melody and tried a few things. He made suggestions here and there and eventually, with me playing it out on keyboards, we had a soulful melody line. Still no lyrics though.

"No ideas at all?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Nope. You know me, not much on the lyrical front. You got anything in mind?"

I sat and thought, "I might have. You keep playing it over and over and I'll see if anything comes to me." He didn't have to be asked twice. I sat down with a pen and blank piece of paper. A vague concept had been floating around in my head. It had sort of been there over the last few weeks but never materialised. I closed my eyes and tried to focus my mind. The idea had been sparked off by going home to my family over Christmas.

The first thing I decided upon was the title. Normally it came halfway through writing lyrics or even at the very end. However this song was called 'Coming home' from the very first words. Now to try and find the rest of the words. Jon played, I thought, I scribbled and scored out. I listened, I hummed, I mused. I screwed up pages and threw them on the floor. I screwed up my eyes but decided not to add them to the paper pile. The words began to come and I slowly but painstakingly started to make progress. At last I felt I had it and nodded to Jon.

He stopped playing, "About flaming time. My hand is about to drop off."

I smiled, "Hey now, writing a song is a creative process, it's almost like creating a child."

He retorted, "Yeah it felt like it took nine months too."

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, "You look like such a spoilt little girl when you do that."

I inclined my head, "So you don't want to hear it then?"

He grinned, "Less with the huffing, more with the singing." I obliged.
 
 

"A small world, outside the great unknown,  A life lived in close confines,  Until you leave, set out on your own,  Follow your soul's designs      Been so long, yet the time runs by,  Don't even realise it's gone,  Weeks pass, the years they fly,  I'm always moving on:      Same old faces,  Familiar places,  As I drive down the main street,  Corners where I  Laughed and cried  Shades of memories bitter sweet  No matter how long I've been gone  No matter how far I may roam  Wherever my sun may set and dawn  In my heart, I'm coming home.      Though you're away, a tie still binds,  To the world you once had  In quiet moments, the stillness finds,  More of the good than the bad,      Try and resist, the ever present pull,  A compass needle pointing north,  In the battle, know your heart will rule,  Emotions from the depths call forth:      Same old faces,  Familiar places,  As I drive down the main street,  Corners where I  Laughed and cried  Shades of memories bitter sweet  No matter how long I've been gone  No matter how far I may roam  Wherever my sun may set and dawn  In my heart, I'm coming home."

 
 
After a brief musical solo, I repeated the chorus to finish. I looked over at Jon expectantly, wanting to see what he thought of it. He was doing his poker-faced thing that he often did. He was going to make me ask. "Well?" I asked, "What do you think of it?"

He nodded slowly and pursed his lips together. "Maybe it's a good thing," he said enigmatically.

"Maybe what's a good thing?" I wasn't sure if he was talking about the lyrics or something else.

He grinned, "Maybe it's a good thing you are so messed up if it makes you write lyrics like that."

I gasped and threw my pen at him, "Hey! That's not fair." I paused, "So you really like it then?"

He nodded and laughed, "Yeah, it's great. Seriously you have no idea how good it feels to be doing music that involves more than 3 chords and words of one syllable."

I smiled, "Did you appreciate the way that I alternate it from the general second person of the verse to personalising it in the specific first person in the chorus?"

He laughed, "Oh yes, sure. I really spotted that. Heck, what do I know? It sounds good to me and I think we have ourselves another song." I agreed.
 

*          *          *
 
"What are you looking at?" Jools asked as she looked over my shoulder. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading.

"Hmm? Oh nothing really."

"C'mon, what is it?"

"Hey don't be so nosy!" I pulled the paper towards me. "If you must know, I'm looking at the local jobs section."

She gave me one of her looks, "Huh? What the hell for?"

I shrugged, "A few reasons. One of which being money."

"Money? Are you losing it? Sure you got forty grand as an advance."

I nodded, "Yes fifteen of which was spent on my car and twenty of which was spent on these." I cupped my breasts.

Her eyes widened and she gave a low whistle, "Twenty grand? Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. It doesn't come cheap and to get it done privately and discreetly in Geneva carries a premium price tag."

"Twenty grand," she mused, "are you sure it was wise?"

I shrugged, "Yes, I guess so. I know it's a lot of money, but I think it's worth it. I mean you have no idea..." I stopped as I wasn't sure if I should go on.

Jools sat down beside me and prompted gently, "What? I have no idea what?"

I hesitated and looked away for a few moments before turning back to her. "You have no idea how much more normal they make me feel."

She screwed her face up, "Normal?"

I sighed, "I didn't think you would understand."

"Try me," she encouraged.

I thought for a moment, "I know I look good, but I've always felt like a pretender. Like it's a total charade and I could get caught out any moment. I don't like that feeling. I like the new me, I like the way I look - I'm not ashamed to admit that. But with wearing the breast forms, I felt like it wasn't quite real." I paused and smiled, half to myself, "But now, it's different." I looked at her, "You have no idea how much more feminine I feel by having my own breasts. I feel more secure, it's like it's less of a pretence, it's the real me. I don't know if that makes any sense."

Jools nodded thoughtfully, "It does. I mean if you view breasts as a fairly major characteristic of femininity. I don't think I really thought about it from your point of view though." She paused, "Are you OK Cara? I mean, this is all so strange and new, are you alright inside? You would tell me?"

I smiled at her and reached for her hand, "Jools, if I could tell anyone it would be you. But yes, I'm alright. It's still difficult. There are parts that are grand, I mean the whole appearance, clothes and makeup stuff. It's fine and I hate to have to admit it, but I love it. I sometimes think I should find it harder adjusting to how I look, but I don't. It is inside though that is more difficult." I sighed, "I can look the part, talk the part, act the part. That's just it; I guess it still is an act. Deep down inside, I'm not really sure about some things." I let my voice trail off.

"Like?" she prompted. I shrugged, not wanting to continue. She went on herself, "Like how you feel about others? Men? Women?"

I looked over at her and gave a wan smile, "Yeah, something like that."

Jools squeezed my hand back, "I don't know what I can say. But I'm sure given time, things will become clearer."

"I hope so," I murmured.

Jools smiled brightly, "Anyways, back to the question at hand, you don't really need to get a job for the money do you?"

I shrugged, "I've got a few thousand left yes, but it could be some time until there is any income from the recording deal, if any at all. It will still be a few months until a single is released if we get to that stage."

"But sure, there aren't many expenses what with you living here and all?"

I smiled. Jools was hard to divert. Like a dog with a bone when she got hold of something. I tried to explain it to her, "It's not just money. In fact, that's a minor part of it to tell you the truth. I'm looking for some experiences. You know, like as a woman. I've lived my whole life up to now as a man. I know about that, I've been there and done that. Now I'm trying to live as a woman, and it's all new. It's unfamiliar. I'm not used to it. I don't have much to draw on. I need some real life experience. I figure a job will give me that."

"What sort of job had you in mind?"

I sighed, "Well there won't be many opportunities for me. I mean, I'm not qualified for much. The thing I thought I would be most likely to get a job in was something like waitressing or the like."

"Wouldn't that be sort of scary?"

I laughed, "Yes it is. Don't make it worse. But I need to face these things. I can't go on living in this cocoon, all protected and sheltered. As much as I would like to. Pretty soon, if things work out, I'm going to be out there in the public eye. I'll have to interact and react to a lot of things. I just think it would be good if I could get used to meeting new people and interacting with them as Cara."

Jools nodded her head from side to side, "I think I can see what you are getting at. I'm not convinced, but if you want to go for it, fine."

I had circled a few potential adverts and I had planned to go and check them out the next day. I was a bit concerned about how they would view my lack of experience, but I didn't have much option. I could apply for sales positions in various shops, but to be honest the waitress option fitted in better with my plans. I could continue to work on the songs and music during the day and then work a few evenings a week.
 

*          *          *
 
And so it was that I set out into the city centre the next afternoon on my quest. I had spent late morning and early afternoon with Jon as we played, sang and experimented. I made my excuses and told him I was heading out looking for a job. He seemed bemused and puzzled as to why I would want to do this. I didn't want to get into it. The way we were communicating, or rather not communicating, I had little hope that he would understand my motivations. So I told him I needed the cash and yes I had blown most of my share of the advance. He wanted to know how on earth I could have spent so much money. I told him that the car and all the clothes, cosmetics and jewellery I was compulsively buying didn't come cheap. He seemed surprised, but that brought the conversation to a halt.

I had agonised over what to wear and had settled on smart and conservative. Well sort of conservative, but not dowdy. I wore a black suit with a knee-length skirt and white satin blouse. I styled my hair and added a little more than my usual daytime makeup. Attractive, but not over the top. I grabbed my list that I had drawn up and rode the Tube into the centre of London. It was all pretty much a waste of time. First I tried an upscale French restaurant. The manager was polite, but when I heard I had no experience, he lost interest. It was the same story with all the places I visited. No experience, no job. I felt disheartened as I stood in the rush hour crush on the Tube. Perhaps I had aimed too high. I had only selected really nice restaurants. The sort of places that were probably too nice for me to even want to eat in. I went back to the drawing board when I got home and lowered my sights a little.

The next day, I tried again. This time, I had gone for a less conservative approach. I went with a fitted white bodysuit, my black and white checked miniskirt and black suede boots. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror before leaving I again marvelled at how sexy I could look. I was feeling more and more comfortable about my looks and attractiveness. Sufficiently confident in my appearance, I tried to drum up optimism and I set out with a positive attitude. It didn't last too long as yet again I faced rejection after rejection. Steak house restaurants, casual diners, Italian restaurants - they all still wanted someone with experience.

After my latest kick in the teeth, a Thai restaurant in the Mayfair area, I meandered aimlessly. It was a bitterly cold February afternoon and I pulled my coat more tightly around me. I was going to give it up as a bad idea when I walked past another restaurant and saw the sign. 'Waitresses required - sense of humour more important than experience.' I perked up at that and took a closer look at the restaurant. It was called 'Trin's Dins'. I had heard of it. It was a restaurant-bar-club based on the St. Trinian's school movies theme. The waiters were supposed to be hunky men in school shorts and the waitresses dressed in the sexy school girl outfits made famous by the movies. I sort of recoiled as I thought it wasn't exactly what I was aiming for. Then I thought, 'what the heck, they would probably reject me anyway, why not give it a try?' So I went in and asked for the manager.

I sat and waited and watched the staff preparing for opening time. I noticed some of the waitresses in their white blouses. Varying degrees of open buttons, some tied over a bare lower abdomen. The skirts, if they could be called that, were quite short - again some shorter than others. Stockings and suspenders were often in full view. The waiters didn't even wear shirts! Just a tie hanging loosely around their necks. Their trousers were tight and some even wore shorts. Although it was February, it was very warm inside the restaurant. I imagined it had to be given the scanty uniforms. I had actually decided that I wouldn't stay and was just getting up to leave when my name was called, "Miss Evans?" I had decided to give my real name as I would need a valid National Insurance number if I got a job. I turned slowly and found myself face to face with a smartly dressed man in a business suit. He was of medium height, slightly balding and must have been in his forties. "Miss Evans?" he repeated.

I nodded and smiled, "Yes that's me."

His smile broadened as he took in my appearance. He held out his hand, "I'm Jerry Kingston, the manager here. I hear you are looking for a job?"

I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't feel I could just turn and walk away now. "Err yes, that's right. I saw the sign outside."

He nodded, "Yes we need waitresses. Why don't you come into my office and we'll talk."

I followed him into his office. It wasn't ostentatious, just business-like. He sat down behind the desk and indicated for me to sit opposite him. I was careful to smooth my skirt down as I sat and was aware of his eyes on my legs. He looked up and met my eyes unashamedly. He smiled, "Now what experience do you have?"

I shrugged and smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid I have none. So I'm probably wasting your time."

He shook his head, "Experience isn't necessary. As an established restaurant, we also feel it is our place to offer training and give people a foothold on the experience ladder. What's more important is if we think you would fit into our staff family."

I raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

He smiled, "Well, we are fairly relaxed; the staff get to work and enjoy themselves at the same time. The clientele come here for good traditional food, a bit of a laugh and opportunity to relax and wind down. Hence the sign outside, a good sense of humour is more important." He paused, "You've seen the uniform?"

I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat, "Umm yes. It's quite revealing."

He inclined his head, "Do you have a problem with that?" I don't know what it was. It was something in the way that he said it that made it sound like a challenge. I rose to it.

I looked him straight in the eye and smiled, "Not at all."

He grinned, "Look I'm not one for interviews and references and all that. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. What say we give you a try? Two weeks probation and see how you get on?"

I didn't know what to say. I'd just been offered a job that I wasn't sure I wanted. However given my lack of choices at that moment I made a snap decision. "OK, that sounds grand, when do I start?"

He laughed, "That's what I like. Enthusiasm and drive will get you far in this place. Call by tomorrow afternoon and ask for Jenna. She'll sort out the admin stuff and arrange a schedule for you. I'll make sure an...appropriate...uniform is ready for you." He winked and stood.

I felt a little uneasy but stood and shook the hand he offered again. "Don't disappoint me now Nicola."

I smiled nervously, "Umm I won't Mr. Kingston."

He held onto my hand longer than was necessary, "Call me Jerry please."

"Err OK - Jerry."
 

*          *          *
 
It was a cold and frosty morning but I had decided I needed to get back out to some exercise. I had missed it. I had barely a twinge from my new breasts now and the bruising was in the fading away stages. So I set off with my new 'friends' firmly held in check by my sports bra. When I entered Wormholt Park I saw Kate at the far side. As soon as she saw me she ran straight over to me.

"Hi," she said breathlessly with a smile on her face. "Where've you been stranger? Thought you'd given up on our morning sessions."

I had already thought out an answer, "Sorry Kate, I've had a terrible bout of the 'flu and am only really feeling up to getting out for a run now."

She grimaced, "Yeah, there's a lot of it going about at the moment I hear."

I felt bad lying to her, but what was I going to do - tell her the truth? Well Kate, I'm really a man, or was and so I needed to nip off to Geneva to get me a pair of real breasts. Yes, I could see that one being understood and well received.

"Let's run," I said, "but go easy on me, I'm out of practice."

And so we ran. At a reasonable pace though. I felt my lungs burning and my legs complaining. Fitness sure is a fair weather friend. Ignore her for any length of time and she will drop you just like that. I was happy to let Kate do the talking as I had no breath to spare for such non-essential bodily functions. Before long I had caught up on the gossip from her office and who was doing what with who and the like.

"And the jerk had the nerve to ask me out for dinner on Friday night. I mean, we've both been working there for a few years. I know he's married and he knows I know that but yet he thinks he is such hot stuff that it's like I'd be privileged to go out with him. Men? I mean, do they have any perception of reality?"

I figured the question was rhetorical and just laughed sympathetically. We were sitting on a bench having limbered down after several circuits of the park. Kate looked at me, "So Cara, what about you? Seeing anyone at the moment?"

I felt like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, "Umm no. Not at the moment."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm surprised. I'd have thought you'd be fighting the men off."

I laughed and waved a hand at her. "'Fraid not. To be honest, I'm too busy I guess. What with the song writing and practising, not much time left for a social life. And it's not likely to get better; I'm starting a new part time job."

"Oh? What are you doing?"

"Well, nothing dramatic. A bit of waitressing a few evenings a week to keep some cash coming in."

"Where are you working?"

"Trin's Dins. Doubt you'd have heard of it."

She laughed. "Oh I've heard of it. Been there once or twice too. So are you going to be wearing the regulation uniform?"

I grinned and felt myself flush a little, "Well yeah."

She nudged me, "Now that is something I think I might have to see." I wasn't sure if I imagined it or not, but I thought I saw her give me a wink.
 

*          *          *
 
As luck would have it, I got one of the more revealing uniforms at Trin's Dins. I wasn't sure if it was just random or if someone decided it specifically. However Jenna left me in no doubt that what I received was my uniform and personal modifications were not to be tolerated. She was a stern looking lady in her late forties. She might have been pretty once, but it was hard to tell as I had yet to see her smile. She was business-like, direct and expected to have her orders carried out to the letter of the law. I was given the run down on what I was to do, what I was not to do. What I was to tolerate from the diners and what was not tolerated. For example, I was to accept the odd lewd comment or gesture as being part of the job. I was not to offer 'any services not on the menu' as she put it. She sent me into the women's staff changing room to put on my uniform.

It wasn't a matter of being told how many buttons to leave undone on my blouse, there simply were no buttons where the top three should have been! A few weeks ago, there just would have been no way I could have worn it, but now it provided anyone who glanced casually at me with a more than adequate view of my cleavage. The blouse had ties at the bottom and when I tied them together my navel and lower abdomen were also put on view. Black fishnet stockings and black suspenders of course and an almost indecently short black skirt. I tried in vain to tug the skirt down lower, but it still barely covered my stocking tops. To finish off I had black four-inch pumps. I looked at myself in the mirror of the changing room and was shocked at how much of my body was on view. I looked sexy without a doubt. Far too sexy though. It was like a teenage boy's fantasy and I reckoned that was the image the restaurant was probably playing on.

I went out and met the rest of the staff. I felt very self-conscious. Most of the girls were nice except for one who seemed quite aloof. Mandy was her name. The guys were a little too enthusiastic in their greetings and I had to suppress a shiver as I became aware of them looking me up and down. In a sense, I could understand. A few months back if I had been in their position and saw someone looking like I did now and wearing what I wore now I would probably have been unable to stop myself paying more attention than courtesy permitted.

Jenna assigned us all our tables for the evening and gave us what I imagined she felt was a pep talk, but was more like a gruff sergeant major barking out orders before a parade. Her finishing line to us all summed it all up. "Go out there, work hard, look good and for god's sake don't screw up."

I had been told to shadow Linda for the evening to learn the ropes. Linda was a young woman about my age and of medium height with chestnut brown hair. Quite pretty but not a traffic stopper if you know what I mean. She was friendly though and for this I was glad.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Totally," I replied.

"Don't sweat it. We all were at the start."

"How long have you been waitressing?" I asked.

"A year or two. And I've been here for about 8 months now. It's not too bad. Pays better than most. But you have to watch out for the tipsy ones. Just because they've paid for their food, some of them think they are paying for extra attentions. It's a hard balance to strike. You don't want them all over you, but you want to be nice enough to them to get a good tip."

I was grateful for this advice but as Linda was talking to me I noticed Mandy glaring at me from the other end of the bar. I whispered to Linda, "What's up with Mandy? She's looking at me as if I was her worst enemy."

Linda gave a little chuckle. "Oh heavens, you probably don't realise. Have you noticed the slight differences between all our uniforms?"

I shrugged, "Well yes, some have longer skirts - well more like less short skirts. Some have higher heels than others, less revealing blouses. Why?"

She smiled and squeezed my arm, "Honey, you've got the sexiest uniform here if you hadn't noticed and yesterday it was Mandy's."

She was right. I hadn't really noticed, but mine was the most revealing with the shortest skirt and the highest heels. I didn't get the significance of this though and asked her.

"Well Nicola, we reckon it comes from Jerry. He dictates who gets to wear what uniform. It's almost like to encourage us to be sexier. Bottom line, most of the diners are male. Give them good food from sexy waitresses and they'll be back. We think Jerry has a 'ladder of sexiness' and moves us up and down as he sees fit. Mandy has just been knocked off top spot by you and she doesn't like it."

"But why me? I mean I've only started."

Linda looked at me as if I had two heads, "Have you looked in the mirror recently Nicola honey? Jerry may be a lot of things but he isn't blind." I tried to pass off her comment but she ignored me and continued, "A word to the wise also. I don't know for sure, but it's rumoured that being Jerry's favourite isn't necessarily the best thing. Just watch him that's all I'm saying."

I tried to get more information out of her but she wasn't forthcoming. It was opening time and Jenna was frowning at us. Or maybe I should say, frowning more than normal. Things started slow but soon picked up. I followed Linda around and paid close attention to how she took the orders, delivered them and then handled the customers. It was a Friday night and it was busy. She introduced me to each table she was covering as Nicola the new girl. I would generally wave shyly and smile.

Most of our tables were male diners and I began to get used to being eyed up and down. Used to it in the sense of it being a familiar occurrence rather than used to it in the not minding it sense. Even though I wasn't specifically working the tables, some of the customers gave me a tip also. Before I knew it, things were winding down and it was closing time. Eventually the last few customers were persuaded to move on and we got things cleared up. I was exhausted and my feet were killing me.

I thanked Linda for her patience and instruction but she told me to think nothing of it. We headed back into the staff changing room. I yawned, "I don't know how you can be bothered changing again at the end of your shift."

One of the other girls gave a hollow laugh. Irene I think her name was. "Oh yes, you really think it would be a good idea to head home at 1 a.m. on a weekend dressed as you are now?" I grinned sheepishly and acknowledged that she had a point, a very good point. And so I changed and headed out to grab a cab home before falling into bed.

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