LOCKDOWN LUCY: JOHN’S STORY

This story is a sequel to “Lockdown Lucy.” This time, we see events from John’s perspective.

Included are another set of all new photos of Lucy; some from familiar scenes. This time, they’re how John saw things.

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“Argh! Bloody arseholes!” I cried out, “Do they seriously think anyone can do any better than me, under these conditions? We’re in the middle of a global pandemic, for Christ’s sake,” I thought to myself.

I needed a break. Right now, I’d allow myself fifteen minutes to grab a drink and maybe a sandwich. However, I needed a real break. I’d been working flat out for several months; I’d been busy setting up my company long before I quit a safe office job that I had enjoyed. Thinking about it, I don’t think I had even left the house for a couple of weeks. Setting up my own business was always going to be tough; this, however, was something else.

“Alright mate? How’s it going?” asked Luke, as I walked into the lounge, where he was watching daytime TV, again.

“Fucking nightmare, mate,” I replied, “I’ve lost another one. That’s the third this week; and it’s only bloody Thursday. I’ve got three other clients that I’m really struggling to supply, and I’ve got this terrible feeling they’re waiting until the end of the week to fire me. I’m really wishing I’d stayed at work; I’d be in your position now.”

I had loved my job in marketing. Coming up with strategies and plans to encourage customers to visit my employer’s brand of restaurants, to get them to stay longer, to have an extra drink or buy a dessert; then come back again and again. I also loved most the folks I worked with; I just thought I’d be happier, and financially better off, following my own business plan. For three months or so, it looked like it was going to work out quite nicely.

Watching the news and seeing Chinese cities go into lockdown felt so abstract, so unreal, as if it were part of the plot of a movie. When Italy followed a few months later, it all suddenly started to feel a lot closer to home. In addition to all the thoughts about the potential risks to my own health, that of my family and friends, and how all this was going to play out, I tried to think how my fledging business would operate under the sort of conditions I saw in other countries. I just couldn’t see it happening though. They’d never be able to lockdown this country, I had wrongly thought.

When that did happen, there was a huge amount of uncertainty about what would come next. When it was announced soon after that the government would offer financial support to people that weren’t able to work, and also businesses that weren’t able to operate, that went a long way to answering many of the questions. My housemate, Luke, would get eighty percent of his pay paid by the government. That’s what I would have received, if I hadn’t quit my job a few months ago.

Although at first I didn’t think that my business would need any support, it wasn’t massively reassuring to learn that I wouldn’t be eligible anyway. Quite simply, my business had not traded for long enough to demonstrate what my normal level of income was. All the stuff that government departments had once talked about supporting entrepreneurship, and investment in small businesses, turned out to be complete rubbish. When the heat was on, those in my situation seemed to be expendable; either not worth supporting, or just too difficult to do so.

My business was doing pretty well in the short period of time that it had operated before the lockdown; and this had continued into the first few months following the restrictions. It was hard work making sure everything happened as it should, but my clients and I were riding the crest of a wave, with regards to demand for their products.

My clients included some of the big fast fashion brands like Fashion Nova, Shein and Pretty Little Things; then some niche fashion brands like Lounge and Gymshark. Some I worked with occasionally on a specific brief, whilst others I had a steady flow of work with. Many of these saw increases in demand for more casual clothes, with folks staying at home.

What I did was pretty straightforward, as long as I kept on top of things. As I had explained it to many folks, including my housemate at least once a fortnight, I was basically a middle man between the fashion brands and the pretty young women they used as models. Through some old friends that worked at some of these companies, I’d picked up on some widespread frustrations that they had with the models. Problems from not finding the right faces easily enough, the models not taking photos good enough to be published online, problems with contracts and payments, and all sorts of stuff that they didn’t want to be sorting out. My new agency dealt with all of that; my interests in photography and business - and also being around pretty young women - really filled a niche gap. Only one contract for the brands, one supplier, and not chasing anyone, was essentially the benefits case for my clients.

The only thing I was doing differently during lockdown was reverting to use the photos that the models, or their friends and family, took of them. They were a bit of a mixed bag. Weird angles and bad lighting were the main problems. I could fix all of that with Photoshop, to maintain the quality of the images that I was sending to my clients. The lack of any complaints about the quality of my output, suggested that the workaround was working okay.

“When all this started to go tits up, I thought it would’ve been caused by the competition,” I said

“The competition?” I thought you were the only agency doing this?” Luke asked with a frown.

“I was,” I nodded with a sigh, “I pretty much still am. Too small for the established players. What do they call them? New entrants. They’re always snooping about. It’s only my failure to honour contracts that even allow my clients to talk to them. I’d had this so well sewn up. I was so surprised when my clients accepted the terms I proposed,” I added, thinking back to how pleased I was when the signed contracts came back, after only a few small rounds of adjustments.

“So, what’s the problem, if the demand is still there?” Luke asked with a confused look on his face, “I’ve not wanted to pry; but know you’ve been having it tough,”

“Ah, Luke. I’m not sure! I know that’s it’s one of two things,” I replied, gesturing with two raised fingers, “Maybe it’s both! I’m spending most of my day arguing between couriers and the models. I’m going around in circles all of the time, stuck between ineptitude and downright thievery.”

“How do you mean?” Luke asked, seemingly genuinely interested, by the look of concern on his face.

“Well,” I started, “I’m sometimes not receiving the samples the brands tell me they’re sending. With the tight turnaround times they need, by the time the couriers sort out what are always their errors, I’ve missed the deadline.”

“But,” he paused to think, “That’s not your fault. I mean, isn’t the sender choosing the courier?”

“Tell me about it,” I nodded. “But Luke, that’s not the half of it. I’m sending stuff out to models by courier; and having the same problems. I reckon it’s a fairly even split between the couriers screwing up and the models falsely claiming to have never received the clothes. My turnaround time, when allowing for all this bullshit, is about twice the length allowed for in the contract.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the problem with the couriers?” he asked, naïve to the cowboys working in this area.

“What’s right with them?”Actually, that’s a bit unfair. Maybe.” I paused, “They were fine before Covid. Now they’re overwhelmed with demand, and can’t get signatures because of isolation. They’re meant to get some evidence of a fulfilled delivery, but it’s like a black hole.”

“Oh, I see,” Luke nodded, “Can I help in any way? You know, I’m going stir crazy. So bored all of the time!”

Luke didn’t know how lucky he was. He might claim to be bored, but he could be reading a lifetime's worth of books, he could be learning a foreign language or how to play a musical instrument, or a million other things that didn’t need him to be out and about. Okay, he couldn’t go out drinking, he couldn’t go on dates with girls, he couldn’t travel; but he just sat in front on the TV most of the time. Who knows? Maybe I’d be doing exactly the same, if our situations were reversed. “I know you claim to be bored, but I wish I was in your position. Eighty percent of my old salary, to do nothing? You know, if I’d waited three months before quitting, I could be getting paid by them whilst I set up my business!”

“That’d be a bit cheeky!” he laughed, “But I’m sure you’ll get through this tricky patch. You would let me know, if I could help, wouldn’t you?”

“Fancy a bit of modelling, do you? Have a swimwear contract that I’m about to fuck up!” I teased, laughing despite being genuinely worried that I would lose this client in the very near future.

“Not sure I’m the swimwear model type. Not sure my absent six-pack would make the Speedo’s look too good. Unless skinny and pale is this season’s look?” Luke laughed, posing like a muscle man, flexing his pretty non-existent biceps.

“Ha! No, not this season, “I laughed back, “And not sure how you’ve not put weight on during this lockdown; everyone else has, and you’re eating all the time! And anyway, it’s a bikini brand I’ve got the contract with. Bet you’d help to sell more of those though, than you would Speedo’s!” I added, semi-seriously thinking that there were likely more folks that got a kick out of seeing guys dressed in bikinis, than there were into looking at skinny guys in budgie smugglers.

“Oh, very funny! Maybe I could help sort out the couriers or the models. I do work in procurement, after all?” Luke responded

He had a point. Whilst I don’t think he was considered a high flier at work, he did have a reputation for quietly getting stuff done; and had sorted out some of my suppliers pretty competently, when we were working together. “Yeah, maybe. There’s quite a bit of history involved now, but yeah, thanks, I’ll think about it. Don’t want you fucking things up worse though!”

“Fuck you! Haven’t you got some work to be getting back to?” Luke laughed.

“Yeah. Those thieving girls don’t shout at themselves!” I joked, adding “Joking!” after Luke giving me a look of disapproval.

***

I was working long hours. I was always a morning person, and it had been quite normal for me to get to the office for 6am most days. Now I was working for myself I was starting even earlier. I saved time without a commute into the office, and had also knocked my morning run on the head. Starting work at 5am and finishing at 10pm had become the norm. A few beers, a bit of crappy TV – whilst still checking emails from my phone – had become the standard routine.

“You know? I think you could perhaps help with my business,” I said to Luke, putting down my beer.

“Oh yeah? Want me to get those couriers in line for you?” he smiled back.

“Actually, I think you could help me with some of the modelling,” I replied, after a pause, not daring to look in Luke’s direction, instead keeping my eyes on the random show on TV.

“Oh yeah, bikinis is it?” Luke said with a half laugh.

“Erm, no, that might be pushing it a bit too far. I’ll be straight with you though, it is women’s clothes, but just gym wear and stuff,” I suggested, continuing to stare straight ahead at the TV

Luke burst out laughing, “Straight? Wanting me to dress in girls clothes for you? Not the best choice of words, mate. You’re such a piss taker!”

I joined in the laugh, but I was so embarrassed. I’d just asked my housemate to dress up in women’s clothes, so I could take photos of him. There’s no two ways around that. Despite feeling lucky he was laughing rather than wanting to punch me, I thought it best to argue my logic; rather than him thinking, well, I don’t know what he’d be thinking of me.

“No, hear me out. With a bit of help, my lighting and photography skills, and then a fair sprinkling of magic Photoshop dust, I think it’s doable.” I had thought about this a few times since we first joked about it earlier in the day. Luke was a small, slim guy; the clothes would fit. My photography and editing skills could fix everything else.

“Piss off!” he shot back. He was smiling, but I could tell he’d be triggered by me challenging his masculinity. When he looked away, I saw his face drop to a frown and then a look of deep thought.

I went back to drafting emails, and my beer.

***

I had, as had become the norm, been sat at the desk I’d set up in my bedroom since about 5am. I’d sent all of the emails that I had drafted the night before. Not only had I learnt the hard way that it was a good idea to double-check emails written late at night, but I didn’t want clients thinking I was online both really early and really late. Whilst I did want them to know I was working hard for them, I didn’t want to look like I was struggling to keep up.

At about 10am I saw that I’d received an email from my primary contact at Fashion Nova, what had been one of my fastest growing clients; their business had been growing, and I had been growing my share of helping to promote it.

“Fuck!” I cried out loud. It wasn’t at all a surprise; I’d have been kidding myself if I had tried to kid myself that this wasn’t coming. They’d sacked me. It was a very polite email, where they claimed to understand the difficulties being experienced, and how they weren’t my fault. They did, however, say that they had decided to bring the services I provided back in-house.

I had to take a break. If I answered the phone or sent an email now, I couldn’t guarantee my frustration wouldn’t come across. I headed downstairs to grab a coffee, dropping into the lounge on the way, to share the news with Luke. I don’t think he has really got his head around what I do, so wasn’t expecting to get into the details; I just wanted to chat it through with someone.

“Still got my two biggies. Fingers crossed,” I explained to Luke, how my two largest contracts were still there.

“And which is it do you think I might be able to help with?” Luke asked.

“How do you mean?” I asked, only about fifty-fifty sure I was following what he meant.

“What you mentioned last night. Or was it just the beer talking?” he clarified.

“Oh, the gym, sports, loungewear firm. My first client. I’ve been prioritising them for weeks,” I fed back, hoping that this conversation was going to go somewhere productive.

“So, how would it work?” Luke asked, “I mean, it’s more than me putting on a tracksuit and you taking photos, right?”

I shook my head, “Well, that’s broadly it, actually. We’d need to do something with your hair. I can get a wig from somewhere. Makeup, even if a bit shit, can be fixed with Photoshop. I can also change your body shape, adjust your face, whatever. It’s one or two stages up from airbrushing. I really just need someone of about the right frame size. Why? You think you can do it?” I asked, trying to stay as cool as possible. I didn’t want to sound desperate.

“Well, if it’s that’s straightforward. I suppose so,” Luke answered, with a shrug of his shoulders.

I could have hugged him, “Brilliant! Thank you so much! I mean, you’ll get paid, and all that, but I am so grateful. Cheers mate!”

“So, like, when do you need to respond to this brief? That’s what you call them, right?” Luke asked, suggesting he’d been listening to my explanations of my business better than I’d expected.

“Yes. And next Wednesday. Have to email them by midday. It should be one day for a contingency, a day for photoshopping. So, how about shoot on Monday? Gives time for me to get you a wig,” I answered, not yet sure where I was going to get a wig from. There were a few other details I needed to think about.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Luke agreed, “Unless Boris is announcing tonight that the lockdown restrictions end on Sunday night. However, looking at the number of cases, I doubt that.”

From what Luke had said, I assumed the Prime Minister and his scientific advisors must have been doing one of their briefings that evening. I hadn’t been watching the government announcements in much detail; I didn’t have the time. I was getting most of my information from Luke, supplemented by what I was finding online in the middle of the night, if I couldn’t sleep. My hard work was leaving me tired, but sometimes I was worrying too much to get anything more than a very restless sleep.

“If that were to happen, that’s problem sorted,” I advised, confident that my business model was sound, and it was really the current disruption that explained the challenges I was facing, “And sorry to be a pain, but would you be able to look at getting some makeup? I’m not expecting a work of art, but flat skin and defined lips makes it so much easier to work it up in Photoshop. I just mean from the supermarket, whatever they’ve got. I’ll pay you back,” not at all confident with what Luke would be able to do; it was hopefully to save a bit of editing time. Worst case scenario was that he’d need to wipe it all off, and I’d have a couple more hours in front of my computer screen.

“Erm, yeah. No problem. I think. No idea what I’d need, or even if they sell that at the supermarket. I’ll have a look online for some hints.”

“Cheers mate. This is so good of you.” I was almost as grateful for Luke not making this feel weirder than it needed to be, as I was for him helping out. If the tables had been turned, I don’t think I ever would have stopped teasing my friend for asking me to dress up in women’s clothes for him.

***

“Hey Amy, how are you doing?” I said to the product manager calling from my clients marketing department, as I joined the Teams video call that we’d had in the diary for a couple of days.

“Hi John, I’m doing great. How are you getting on? It’s been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it? Been up to much? Been anywhere nice?” she joked, in reference to how no one was travelling anywhere.

“I wish! I don’t know about you, but my cabin fever is off the charts,” I replied.

“Tell me about it!” she agreed, “So, anyway, the bookings team tell me you’re on point for the shooting my current range; that’s brilliant, I always love your work. We all do.”

We went on to discuss the details of the products that Amy would need shooting, what aspects she wanted focussed on, what might be best to avoid, and then we reconfirmed the timings of when she should be getting back my work.

“The timings are as tight as usual; you know we’re trying to get ahead of ourselves, but sorry, we’re not yet there,” she apologised, “Sounds like we’re having the same problems with our inbound haulage, as I understand you’re having moving samples around.”

“Don’t worry about it, Amy. The timings are all within the terms of the contract, so we just have to get on with it. The good news is that I already have a model lined up.”

“Oh, that is good news. Anyone I know?” she asked, “Someone we’ve used before?”

“No,” I replied, “She’s brand new to this. I think it may take me a bit longer to get what I need from her, but you don’t need to worry about that. She’s also really close by, so I don’t even need to try and bend too many of these lockdown rules to get the shoot done.”

“Sound’s perfect. How did you find her?” Amy seemed genuinely curious.

“She’s a friend that I’ve known her for several years. She has taken a bit of convincing, but I think she’s going to be great!”

Amy wasn’t so convinced, “Hmm, as long as it doesn’t look like amateur hour. I’ve got a heap of emotional investment in this range. The numbers guys here also need it to be a huge success.”

“Amy? Have I ever let you down? You know I don’t lower my standards for anyone. Trust me, if this girl used social media, you and your competitors would have been using her for years. I’ll say this, wait until you see what I produce, and if you don’t use the images in your campaign, I won’t charge. Deal?” I suggested.

I didn’t like being less than fully honest with my clients. I always went out of my way to be straight when doing business; I reckon I had told no more than five white lies since setting up my business. That’s not to say I don’t think I was savvy; there’s a difference between avoiding answering a question or allowing someone to think you’ve answered it, and going out of your way to give a false answer to one. I never understood how people I’d worked with in the past could lie and manipulate people to get what they wanted, and still take satisfaction with their accomplishments. I was reminded about a senior director at my old employer, Carl Middleton, the most untrustworthy person I had ever worked with; his awful behaviour had inspired me to make a personal pledge to never allow anyone to think of me, how I – and many of my old colleagues - thought of him.

“Ha ha! Come on John, I trust you. And you know the commercial stuff goes over my head. Pretty clothes, pretty girls and pretty pictures; that’s my bag!” Amy joked, “And what do you mean, she doesn’t use social media? Is she like a hermit, or something?”

“Ha! No. There is something we could use a bit of help with though, if you’re able?”

“Oh, here it is. I knew this was sounding too good to be true. Go on, hit me,” Amy encouraged.

“Okay. The model isn’t comfortable with the state of her hair. Especially for her first modelling gig. And obviously, she’s not going to get to a salon anytime soon. She had it cut really short, and well, isn’t happy with it,” I added my sixth white lie to the list.

“You want a wig, or something?” Amy asked.

“If you’ve got one? I didn’t know if you’d have access to that sort of thing. Hope you don’t think it’s too cheeky to ask, before I look to buy one”

“John, we practically have warehouses full! You’ll be doing us a favour helping us tidy up. What do you want?” Amy asked, before outlining some of the options I could filter the choice by.

“Brilliant! Thank you. I don’t know, erm, blonde and long, I think. Yeah, blonde and long. A dirty-ish blonde though. Oh, and straight, and not that thick.”

“Ha! And that’s you not really knowing what you want, is it?” Amy teased, “I’ll arrange for something to be couriered out to you. John, I have to be going, my boss is trying to call me; I’ve been trying to speak to him all morning. Give me a shout later in the week, once you have the samples, okay?

***

“Morning mate, sleep well?” I asked Luke, as he entered the kitchen where I was working from, to mix things up a bit. Locked in my bedroom all day was getting my head to a pretty claustrophobic place.

“Morning. Er, yeah, guess so,” he replied, apparently still sleepy after god-knows how many hours in bed.

“Ready to get going as soon as you’ve had your breakfast?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. Not like I have anything else on!” he replied, waking up enough to make a joke.

“Great. Well, here you go, this is your first outfit,” as I passed Luke the first package from a large box that had been delivered to me the day before.

Luke took it, and ran his fingers over the clear plastic bag that wrapped the bright pink two piece gym wear.

“Don’t worry about how it might look when you put it on. It will be a bit tight. We can sort it out either here or later on the computer,” I added. I had an awful image in my head about what Luke was going to look like, and was already bracing myself for a marathon stint in Photoshop. Although I was thinking about working through the night to claw some time back, I didn’t mind that; I was just glad to have some control back over the shoot, and not being so reliant on folks I didn’t trust.

“Tight? So, I’m a bit of a porker, am I? Not as svelte as your normal models?” Luke joked, as he took his coffee upstairs with him, along with the outfit.

***.

“You weren’t joking, when you said this outfit would be tight,” said Luke, as he returned to where I still was in the kitchen.

“Yeah, it,” I looked up and lost my train of thought. I was confused; Luke had done an incredibly good job of getting himself ready, “Oh, wow! You look really good. I mean, wow, like really good,” stopping myself before I embarrassed both of us by saying he looked hot in his wig, surprising good makeup and curiously well fitting tight outfit.

“Stop taking the piss! You said you can fix it all with the Photoshop editing,” Luke shot back.

“Well, I was expecting to fix a lot more. I mean, you’ve got boobs. I was expecting to add shadow to give the effect,” I explained, before scanning Luke’s slim body up and down, before staring briefly at his crotch “ And, erm, where’s your dick?”, wondering how he was flat and smooth between his legs.

“Ha!” he laughed back, “It’s just tucked away like drag queens do. I googled it. Bloody uncomfortable!” Leaving me more confused, as I had no idea what drag queens did to hide their bits; it’s not really something I’d ever thought about.

I nodded, more out of politeness than understanding, “And what about your tits?”

Luke looked down at his chest, and laughed, “They’re just socks. The top has some kind of inbuilt bra. I thought I’d fill it, rather than leaving it all saggy. It’s kind of pushed the skin on my chest together. Kind of looks like cleavage, doesn’t it?” as he pushed his ‘boobs’ together by bringing his arms more in front of his body, creating an even more defined cleavage.

I was staring at my housemate’s new cleavage, as he wiggled his boobs and giggled, I had to snap myself out of this, “Yeah, it does. And what about your makeup, and you’ve shaved?”

“Of course I’ve shaved! I didn’t think you’d want me looking like some kind of bearded lady, or something,” he suggested, “I’ve shaved all over. I didn’t know how much skin would be on show with these outfits.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell Luke that any body hair could be quite easily Photoshopped away. I did, of course, need him to shave his face; I just hadn’t seen him without his trademark light beard for years. I’d been thinking he was going to look so silly, I’d not thought about his beard, nor had I braced myself for the chances of him looking good.

“How on earth is your makeup so good?” I asked, “Some of my normal models would be proud of what you’ve done. Are you wearing false eye lashes?” I was confused, and my mind was running so fast with questions, I struggled to stop my mouth from saying them aloud. I didn’t want to give Luke an inquisition; he was doing me a favour, after all.

Luke explained how he had been looking at lots of YouTube videos, and if I had popped into his room over the last couple of days, I’d probably have found him practicing applying makeup; albeit still with his beard until this morning. He’d gone to such great lengths, and I was so grateful. I was trying to think if I’d have been so grateful if his efforts hadn’t been so successful. This was going to save me hours and hours of Photoshop time. I couldn’t get over how good he looked. I started to feel a bit weird about how I was staring at him.

“Okay, let’s make a start. Let’s stay in the kitchen for this first outfit. The bright colour will work okay with the relatively dim lighting in here.”

I started to get back into the swing of things, and went into autopilot as I started to give Luke instructions of where to stand, how to pose, and whether to smile, or look away, or whatever. When I was looking through the camera lens, I was fine. As soon as I put the camera down, I struggled to maintain eye contact with Luke.

“Did his smile always look like that, or is that what a bit of lipstick does?” I thought to myself.

We stayed in the kitchen for the second outfit, with me asking Luke if he could have a go at tying his hair up in a bun. When he came back downstairs after changing, I was just as shocked as when I saw him for the first time, as I caught myself watching him strut into the room with my mouth wide open. He was literally a dead ringer for the kind of girls you see in the gym that are more likely there to show off their bodies and latest figure-hugging outfits, than to workout. Helping him release a few strands of hair to hang down at the side of his face, I was all fingers and thumbs. My mouth dropped again when he posed a kissy-face as he pretended to blow on his coffee, to cool it down. I hoped that my face was obscured by the camera.

We had moved outside for some photos of the final outfit. “The clients don’t mind all the shots being in the house? They don’t expect you to fork out for proper studios?” Luke asked

“No. We usually sneak around posh hotels, for the fancy backdrops. Right now, because people can’t go to those places, they’re trying to sell the idea of still spending money on their clothes whilst at home. So, photos at home are what they want,” I advised.

“But who would wear this, to workout at home,” Luke asked, looking down at the blue-grey set that he was wearing, and rubbing his hands over his thighs.

I smiled, “Probably no one. But that’s not the point. If these photos are used, the girls looking at them will just want to look as good as you do. They won’t be thinking about working out,” I paused, hoping that Luke hadn’t picked up me saying other girls would want to be as good looking as him.

Luke was suddenly distracted by the sound of a car door slamming shut further up the street; spinning his head around like a startled meerkat, before practically throwing himself further into the cover of the interior of the car he was leaning against. Luke had initially been a bit nervous heading outside, and had needed lots of reassurance and compliments to get him to be as relaxed as he was for the first couple of outfits. He was clearly still more on edge, than his posing for photos had suggested.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see you. I don’t think we even know them, anyway. And I moved my car to that weird angle so we’d not be seen from the road. You look great though; I think that’s my favourite of the outfits,” I suggested.

I wasn’t lying. This was my favourite outfit, and as Luke has spun around to look up the street, I captured what I thought was my favourite shot of the day so far. It looked athletic, sexy and a bit more candid than some of the other more posed photos. I dwelt for one moment on what I was thinking. This was my housemate, Luke, that I thought was looking athletic and sexy.

“What do you want done with these? Do they need to be sent back?” Luke asked, as he placed a pile of packages on the kitchen table, where I had started uploading the photos I had just taken, immediately after finishing the shoot.

“Well, the models usually keep them. They don’t go back. Do you want them?” I asked, without looking up to make eye contact with Luke. I have no idea why, but I wanted him to say that he did. He looked so good, and I wouldn’t have minded if he wanted to wear them again. He didn’t immediately answer, and I sensed that I’d made him feel a bit uncomfortable, “I can just add them to my stockpile in the garage. All those outfits that were sent out and then had their shoots cancelled.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I don’t like stuff being thrown away,” Luke said, looking down at the packages on the table.

***

“Well, that was easy,” I thought to myself, as I added the finishing touches to the editing of the fifty-or-so photos I had decided would form the response that I’d be sending to my client. It had only taken me about three hours to work through the selection process, and then the editing.

“Hey, Luke, you want to see the photos?” I called from my bedroom down to the lounge

“Are you done? That was quick,” said the voice that was making its way up the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m done. Made good progress. And no distractions; this week’s sample deliveries all arrived,” I smiled, allowing myself a moment of optimism, hoping that this was the turning of a corner.

“Do you want to grab a seat from your room?” I added, before Luke had reached up the top of the stairs.

“Right. These are the finished, edited versions,” I explained, as I started clicking around my computer screen, “I’ll drop them into an email later, but won’t send until Wednesday. I don’t want the client thinking I can deliver two days ahead of schedule; even if I am trying to keep them sweet.”

I started clicking through the selected images in the order that they had been shot, Luke feeding back a series of murmurs of acknowledgement to the pictures shown on the screen. However, from where I sat I couldn’t see what his reactions to the shots were.

I tried to keep myself honest by describing the photos how I would have done to any of my other models, or to my clients. I don’t know if I’d been able to use words like sexy, hot and cute, if I had to look at Luke whilst saying them. We both stared straight ahead, with me pretending it was just the photos I was appraising, and not how gorgeous a girl my housemate had made.

“Well done, John. They’re really good. Do you have the originals? Just out of curiosity?” Luke asked, after I shared that he’d seen all of the photos.

“Yes, of course. They’re not as edited as you may think,” I advised, turning to face Luke.

Luke slowly turned away from staring at the computer screen, “How do you mean?”

“Well, with you taking care of your boobs, your, erm, downstairs and your makeup, I erm, you were very pretty,” I was embarrassed to say it, so spun it around to focus more on the business side of things, “It’s really good, because it has saved me hours of work.”

“Bullshit! I bet the editing is practically a deep fake,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Okay, let me show you,” as I nodded and turned back to face the computer screen, “In all the photos I edited the lighting. A few highlights here and there. Here’s the first photo; all I did here was add a necklace.”

I twisted my neck to see Luke frowning at the image, “Hmm, okay. What about the others?” he asked.

I started clicking through the images that we’d just finished running through, “Well, nothing really in the second set. Just tidied up your hair a bit. I mean, there’s a messy bun, and then there’s a messy bun,” joking to try and ease what had suddenly become a more tense atmosphere.

“Right, okay. Keep going. What about the outfit that they don’t promote?” Luke instructed.

“Erm, I kept the necklace in, and changed the colour of your nails,” before clicking through onto the next set, “I just kept the necklace, in the outfit that wasn’t gym wear. Everything else is you.”

I turned to briefly face Luke, he just stared ahead at the screen, “Okay,” he said.

“And for the outdoor ones. My favourites. A bit of jewellery. Nothing else,” I went on, looking back towards the screen. I really liked these photos, and found myself staring at them. I was still confused how Luke could have got his crotch area looking like that.

“Oh,” was all Luke added.

“So, Luke, how does it feel to learn you make a pretty damn hot gym bunny?” I paused briefly for a laugh, but none came, “Sorry, mate, I couldn’t resist. Anyway, the going rate is £600 for a half day shoot. I’ll probably get that to you next Wednesday, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Luke as he stood up, and walked out of the room.

***

Less than ten minutes after sending across the images to Amy, she had sent her reply.

“Wow!!!” read the first line of the email. “Where have you been hiding her? She’s hot! I’m still yet to go through the images properly. I’ll give you a call later this afternoon. Amy. X”

“Okay,” I thought to myself, “That’s pretty promising,” I allowed myself a smile, before getting back to my other work.

Amy called me about an hour later. She loved photos that covered all of the outfits. As I had suspected, they weren’t going to promote one of the outfits we’d shot, but that doesn’t really impact me, at all. It was quite unusual when Amy told me the campaign would be live within the next couple of hours; there were usually at least a couple of days before what I sent across was published. The commercial team at her company wanted to lunch the range, and its accompanying online promotion, as soon as possible. Amy had to end the call abruptly when she was distracted by something going on in her house; she promised to call be back.

About an hour and a half later I checked my clients Instagram page. A few images from my favourite outfit had been published, with descriptions of the outfit, prices and links about how to buy them. I saw that the story was published twenty minutes ago, and already had thousands of likes and hundreds of comments. About half of which were from men, many of which would be deleted by their social media team. I sent the link to Luke, as I was sure he’d like to see his images go live.

It was long after the end of the standard working day, when Amy called me back. I looked at my watch as I took the call, and saw it was nearly 7pm.

“Hey hun,” Amy said, “Not too late for a call, is it?”

“No, not at all. So, where were we earlier? Everything okay there?” I asked

“Oh, don’t John; the joys of working at home and home schooling. From the racket my two were making in the other room, I thought the house was on fire. Sorry about that!” Amy apologised.

“Don’t be silly! We’re all making the best of these circumstances; no need to apologise.”

“Thanks John, that’s kind of you to say, “Amy offered, “So then, where have you been hiding her? What’s her name? We all loved her.”

“Ha! Nowhere, I promise. I’d have tried to use her a long time ago, if I’d have known she was going to be so good. And it’s Lucy. Lucy Davies. She’ll be thrilled to hear the feedback.”

“And John, care to explain to me how you got the indoor shots? You’re not breaking lockdown rules, are you?” Amy asked, with a sense of playfulness in her voice.

I was slightly panicked, “No, not at all. Of course not, it’s just,” I paused.

“It’s just that, what? Lucy is your girlfriend, isn’t she?” Amy asked.

“No, it’s not that,” I objected, “I’ll be straight with you. Lucy is my housemate. We’re not, you know, like that, though,” I explained.

“Oh,” Amy replied with a bit of disappointment, “I kind of hoped there was something juicier than that,” we both laughed.

“Sorry to disappoint you!” I said with a laugh.

“Oh well, you never know, you might get lucky one day. Anyway, do you know if Lucy would be up for another job, or was this a onetime thing for her?”

“I don’t know, Amy. I’d have to ask.”

The call ended, and I got back to my work. About an hour later, I received a text message from Georgie, my contact at my largest client, Pretty Little Thing.

“Hi. Is it your work I’m seeing with blondie on the Shein IG? Looks like your quality of work, but a new face. We’d be interested in working with you and her. I’ll email you some deets. X”

***

Once again I logged off at around 10pm, and joined Luke in the lounge. “You know how I said that the clients loved the photos? Well, so did my other client.”

“Yeah?” Luke replied, without taking his eyes off whatever crap he was watching on TV.

“Yeah. They were wondering whether she was available for an assignment. It’s quite unusual that a specific model is asked for. I guess it’s quite a compliment,” I went on.

Luke turned to look across at me, “Quite the compliment that I’m this hot gym bunny, is it? You know I’ve seen some of the comments on those adverts,” he said, with a cheeky smile.

“I’ve apologised for that; and those comments were very complimentary too. You up for another couple of hours work?” I asked.

Luke became much more animated, “Complimentary? I thought they should have been deleted! I never wanted to know what those sad horny guys wanted to do, let alone to me!”

He’d obviously looked at the comments section before the administrators had been able to delete some of the more inappropriate comments. It was a rather sad reality that almost about half of the engaged followers of most of my client’s pages were men, only interested in seeing the models, rather than the clothes.

Luke went on, “Look, I’m not sure. It’s not that I don’t want to help. It’s just that I’m worried who sees the photos. I know we don’t have that many shared friends, and that my friends won’t be looking out for me doing this, but it’s quite a big risk.”

I smiled and nodded, “I understand. Not sure I’d want people seeing me dressed up like a hot,” I caught myself a split second too late, “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

We both laughed.

I was starting to follow what I think was going on with the TV show that Luke was well into. From what I could tell it was a spin off from Star Wars, or Star Trek. I don’t know; they all seemed the same to me. There must have been a back story that I wasn’t getting, but by the time I was half way through the second episode I had twigged who we were meant to be rooting for.

“Is it more of the same? You know, like gym wear?” Luke asked, breaking a long silence.

I turned to look at him sat on the sofa, “Erm, I don’t know. I didn’t get that far. It’s casual wear. Two ranges. Only four outfits in total,” I read from the email that I had been sent. “Same as last time; just in and around the house. That should be about an hour.”

“What’s casual wear? Like jeans and tops?” he asked.

I blew my cheeks out, “It’s anything between loungewear and going out outfits. I mean, you’d not wear it around the house, but probably wouldn’t wear it if you were going out-out. You interested?”

“Maybe,” Luke nodded. “I do want to help. It wouldn’t be dresses and high heels though, would it?”

“Erm. Maybe, yeah. It’s just photos. You don’t need to walk anywhere in them,” I tried to reassure.

Luke nodded, albeit with a slight frown now appearing, “Yeah, I know. It’s just, well, there’s something so much more feminine about dresses and high heels. Not sure I want to be prancing about in that kind of stuff.”

“Don’t prance then. It’s just an outfit for a modelling gig. It doesn’t mean anything. Does it?” I asked, actually wondering if there was something a bit more going on here. I wasn’t sure I followed Luke’s reluctance about wearing dresses and high heels, after the sexy, skin tight gym wear he had already worn.

“Okay. I’m in,” Luke announced.

“That’s great!” I announced, “They’re sending the product sample in the next couple of days; shall we do it as soon as they arrive?” I asked, wanting to give Luke as little time as possible, to change his mind.

“Yeah, fine with me. Just one thing,” Luke paused, “Last time you said you saved lots of editing time because I’d done a decent enough job with the makeup and given myself boobs?”

“Yeah, you did. And?” I replied, still unsure as to how Luke had done as good a job as he had done.

“Well, I only got the boobs by filing the bras that were built into the gym tops. I’m guessing that whatever they send this time won’t be like that. Should I wear one of those tops like a bra?” he asked.

I know that I had asked my housemate to dress up in women’s clothes. Twice. I know that I’d been amazed just how brilliant a job he had done; and that my clients and their followers had agreed. But, I still felt like I needed to pinch myself when he asked me how he should get boobs.

“That’s an idea, yeah. It would be trickier to edit these kinds of clothes to add tits. You could also have a look what’s in the garage. I’ve got a list of which suppliers sent what package, and what kind of stuff should be in there,” I suggested.

Luke picked up his phone to look at the information I’d just sent him. “Cheers mate; I’ll have a look tomorrow.”

***

“John! You’ve just had a delivery,” Luke called up the stairs from the hallway.

“Cheers mate, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Luke was still stood in the hallway, holding a large brown box. “John Tay Limited, for the attention of Lucy?” read Luke from the top of the parcel “Who is Lucy?”

“Ah,” I said, “That’s you,” before rushing to explain what was going on. “It’s just because they asked for you specifically, they asked who you were. They also put the models name under the ads; you know ‘Lucy is wearing blah blah.’ It’s nothing to worry about. It’s me that’s pays you; you won’t get cheques made out to Lucy Davies.”

Luckily Luke didn’t think anything weird was going on, “Okay. We doing this then?”

I was surprised just how keen Luke was. “Yeah, I’m nearly ready to go. Just a few emails I need to send. How long do you need to get ready?” I found myself looking forward to seeing Lucy again, so let him carry the parcel upstairs to get ready.

“Looking good,” I said to Lucy, as she stood in the doorway to my bedroom in a figure hugging sweatshirt and joggers, “Shall we get started?”

This time, I wasn’t planning on running Lucy through the photos at the end of the day. I thought she might want to see some as we went, so I found myself occasionally stopping, so she could follow what progress we were making.

“Here, hold this,” I said to Lucy, passing her an empty used coffee cup.

“What’s this for?” she asked, looking confused.

“It’s just to make it look like you’re out and about. You know? Maybe you’ve been at home, or some local shopping, you’ve got your loungewear on, and are just popping out for a coffee, before picking your boyfriend up from football practice, or something?” I suggested.

“Whoa! Easy Tiger! I’m not a method actor, I don’t need to know my motivation”, we both laughed.

“How about we shoot the next couple of outfits out front? Maybe with the front door in the background? Like, erm you’re heading out for a lunch date, or meeting some girlfriends?” I suggested.

“Er? Do we have to?” Lucy replied, clearly reluctant to head out of the house.

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I doubt there’s going to be anyone about; and even if there is, they’re just going to think it’s someone dropping by.”

“Hmm, okay. But if our neighbours think I’ve taken to cross-dressing, you can explain it to them!” Lucy laughed.

“Believe me, Lucy, I doubt they’d believe it was you,” I shot back, noticing that I wasn’t admonished for using Lucy for the first time.

“Hang on,” asked Lucy, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked in the hall mirror, after making the latest outfit change. “I don’t think my bra straps should be sticking out like this with this playsuit” she added, before slipping her arms out of the straps, and tucking them into her top.

“Wow. You look gorgeous,” I said, as Lucy entered the lounge. Lucy looked down towards her high heeled sandals, and pretended to smooth out the front of her outlet, clearly embarrassed by the compliment. “You okay to make it outside in those heeled sandals?”

“Yeah. I made it down the stairs okay,” she fed back, as I guided her out of the front door, with my hand gently resting in the small of her back.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I got this for you,” as I held up a small pendant. “It’s just one thing that I’d not need to edit in later, if you put it on now. Can I?”

Lucy smiled and nodded, before turning away from me, and moving her hair from her back. As I put the necklace around her neck, my fingers brushed against the top of Lucy’s back, as I struggled to close the small clasp. Her skin was so soft, that my fingers almost flinched with the light contact. It had been a while, but I couldn’t remember girls having softer skin. I had the strangest feelings going on.

I already had a favourite pose to shoot Lucy in. I loved the shots where she was playing with her hair, and looking away, over my left shoulder. I found myself just looking at her and smiling.

“Just one more to go, Lucy,” I said, as we made our way back into the house.

“Well, there are two more packages. It was meant to be four outfits, wasn’t it?” Lucy asked.

I was confused for a moment, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention. The first outfit, the sweatshirt was added in last minute. They were let down by a model they work with directly. They also said they’ve thrown something in for you. It’s from a new secret range. I don’t even know what it is yet.” I explained, “It’s a gift.”

I looked up to see Lucy coming back into the kitchen, “What are you smiling at?” I asked, smiling back.

“Nothing. Do you like my dress? I think it’s cute,” Lucy asked, with a spin to show off the dress.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I replied, “Maybe as much as I am,” I added, under my voice.

“Great stuff! We’re done,” I announced, “Thanks Lucy, you’re easily my favourite model”

Lucy giggled, “And you’re my favourite photographer! Do you want to see that other thing they sent; the one supposedly for me?”

“Oh, yes, please. I’d forgotten about that. If it’s so secret, it might be a new area for them; I might need to think how I can make sure they give the shoot to me, and who would be the best model,” I said

“Hey, mister! I thought I’m your best girl?” Lucy pouted

“Yes, sorry babe. You’re my number one,” I recovered, adding a wink.

I started uploading some of the photos that I had taken so far, and put the kettle on for a break.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea; don’t let it go cold,” I called through the house.

“Well, what do you think?” Lucy asked, as I looked up from the laptop screen.

“Wow! You look great. Very sexy,” forgetting if it made Lucy feel awkward, but not really caring about my own potential embarrassment. She looked incredible in the short silken nightie that she was wearing.

“I think that’s just your cabin fever speaking; too long without female company,” she said, walking towards the table to pick up her coffee, and tapping my nose gently with her finger to reinforce her point. “It’s really soft though, I think it’s real silk. Here, look.”

Lucy was stood over me, as I sat at the kitchen table. Looking up at her to make sure I had understood what she meant. She just tilted her head and smiled down at me. She then bent down, and took my hand and placed it on her hip; my hand staying there after she had removed hers.

“Yeah, really nice,” I said, as I became excited at the caressing of my housemates hip and upper thigh, through the silk dress. “You want to see some of these photos?”

“Sure,” she said, as she sat alongside me on the kitchen bench seat, her half covered thigh up against mine.

As soon as I had gone through the photos, I had to excuse myself, “I’ll be busy for a bit; I’ve got a conference call with one of the clients.”

“Oh? I thought you had freed up the afternoon for the shoot?” she asked, as she stayed at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee.

I looked back at Lucy sitting there in the night dress, “I’ll see you in a bit,” as I hurried off.

***

“I thought you’d want to know. My client loved the photos. They expect to feature all of the outfits in their campaign next week.”

“That’s great. Do you get any more cash when they use them? Luke asked.

“Nah, it doesn’t work like that. I have to provide a number of photos against a brief. If I hit their brief, they use them. If I miss the brief, they can complain. They’re happy, so nothing to worry about,” I explained, “Thanks again for all your help. I know I was maybe spreading myself a bit thin with all the new clients, but I don’t think I’d be so on top of things, if it weren’t for you. You’d been a lifesaver”

“That’s okay. I’m happy to help,” Luke smiled.

I smiled back. “They both want to work with Lucy again, you know. Would you be up for that?” I asked, hopefully. I think I was developing a bit of a crush on Lucy.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not so bad. At the end of the day, it’s a shave, and a couple of hours of my time. Oh, and a free nightie thrown in,” he joked.

“Ha, yeah,” I couldn’t help but think how it felt to touch Lucy in that nightie, “Well, one of my clients is thinking about trying to push some evening wear; going out clothes.”

“Why would they do that? People can’t go out anywhere?” Luke was clearly a bit confused

I kind of agreed with Luke’s point. “They explained they think there will be loads of pent up demand to get dolled up, and go out-out, as soon as we can. They want their products to be the ones women are looking forward to wearing. Buy them now, and then buy them again whenever lockdown ends, when they find they’ve put on weight!”

“So, what does your other client want you to promote?” Luke asked

“Well, it’s really Lucy’s help that they want. I don’t, however, think you’ll be up for it. So, it’s not a problem if you’re not. No pressure, whatsoever. It’s not a product range that’s detailed in my contract with them, so it would be incremental business,” I explained, not wanting to force Lucy into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with.

“Go on,” Luke encouraged.

“Well, it’s the folks that sent the nightie. They’re launching an underwear and nightwear range.”

“I’d be okay with that,” Luke shot back, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Really? Bras, panties, and well, I’ve seen the stock photos, it’s pretty sexy lingerie,” I checked.

“Yeah. Happy to give it a try,” Luke replied

“You’re a star!” and I could hardly wait to see Lucy in some of the things they’d be sending over. I had never thought of any of my models in anything other than a professional sense, and I was a bit confused as to why my housemate was having this effect on me.

***

“Here you go,” I said to Luke, handing over a parcel that I had just checked, after it had arrived earlier that morning.

“Okay, thanks,” replied Luke, “Which one is this? The evening wear or the lingerie?”

“This is the evening wear. It should be three dresses.”

“When are we doing these?” asked Luke, as he took out the dresses in their transparent plastic covers, and held them up against his body.

“Tonight? It might not be dark, but if we leave it a bit later, the lighting from outside will hopefully give a night-time vibe. I hate it when I see photos out of context.”

“Yeah, cool. I’ll be ready for what, about 9pm?” Luke suggested.

“Oh Lucy, you look absolutely stunning,” I said, not really caring how that would be taken; it was the truth. “Have you done something different with your make up?”

Lucy smiled, “Yeah. I thought that as it was evening wear, it should be a bit heavier. I’ve copied a YouTube tutorial from Pixiwoo; I think they’re my favourite so far. They titled the video ‘date night look.’”

“Well, I think any guy would be pretty happy if his date looked like that. Let’s get going. It’s been a while since I’ve shot evening wear, and it can be a bit trickier in the house.”

“Sorry Lucy, but I need to reformat this memory card; it’s getting full with just one photo.” That was little white lie number eight, I think. “I need to go and download the photos. I’ll be about five minutes. Okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Let me know if I can help,” Lucy added with a smile.

Did Lucy know what was going on? I needed to release myself, or I was going to mess my pants. I don’t think either our friendship or new business relationship would have been able to recover from that. I had been hard since seeing Lucy in the first black dress; she looked stunningly beautiful and so sexy. The more she posed and smiled, the more uncomfortable I had become. When she came down in the polka dot dress, my mind was filled with thoughts of how feminine and pretty she looked, how soft and gentle she would have felt to touch. Dirty as it made me feel, it was the right thing to do. By the time Lucy was in the red dress, coquettishly looking over her shoulder at me, wiggling her backside, I was hard all over again.

“I’m knackered!” Lucy moaned, “I never could have guessed that getting dressed and posing for photos could be so tiring.”

“Sorry, Lucy. You were great; it was my entire fault. Really happy with what I’ve got though. Thanks.”

“Well, show how sorry you are, and get me a drink. I’ll be in the lounge,” she said, before strutting off in her red high heels into the other room

“You not getting changed, first?” I called after her.

“Can’t be arsed,” she shouted back, “I’d fall asleep if I went upstairs. Unless it makes you uncomfortable?” I ignored her question.

“Here you go,” I said, as I passed her a glass of white wine.

“Cheers babe, you’re a lifesaver,” she said with a smile, beckoning me to take a seat next to her on the sofa.

“Ha! Babe?” I laughed

“Yes, babe?” she teased back with a killer smile.

“That was my favourite one, I think. The red really suits you. You looked amazing in all of them, though,” I said

“Thanks. I think it’s my favourite too. With all three having their own shoes and handbags, I am building quite the collection,” Lucy stated

“You’re keeping them?” I asked, intrigued where this was going.

“Well, if I’m to believe all the compliments you keep giving me, I’d be silly to throw them away,” she advised, briefly placing her hand on my thigh.

***

“Morning,” I called from my desk, as Luke passed the doorway to my bedroom.

“Hey, good morning!” he replied cheerily.

“You’re in a good mood. Still up for the shoot this afternoon, now you’ve seen the product?” I asked.

“You ever just wake up in a good mood, for no reason? And yeah, I’ve checked out all the stuff we need to get through. There are quite a few sets that we need to shoot,” he replied.

“Sorry about that. They are paying for a full day’s shoot. The deadline also isn’t for a few days though; so no worries if we don’t get it all covered today. Nothing too skimpy that we’re going to struggle with, and need a bit more Photoshop?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. I’ve tried it all on, and I think I have a few tricks,” he replied with a wink, as I headed downstairs.

“So, where do you want me?” Lucy asked, stood in my doorway.

“Holy shit! How on earth are you doing that?” she looked absolutely incredible.

Lucy shook my head, “You don’t want to know! Like what you see though? Think I’ll do?”

“Lucy, I don’t want to make things awkward, but you look stunning. So incredibly sexy. I can hardly believe it. My clients are going to love the shots we’re about to take,” I said

“That’s just the lingerie and that cabin fever again, “Lucy said, stepping into my room, and gently touching my chest, “I’ll see you downstairs,” before turning and wiggling her pantied backside out of my room. It was going to be another uncomfortable day.

“Are they all like that?” I asked, as we finished shooting the first set of lingerie.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” she replied, before adding, “I think the next set is cute, but it’s not as in your face sexy as this one.”

“I think you were wrong, Lucy.”

“Oh yeah?” she replied with a frown.

“Yeah. This set is just as sexy as the last one,” I said, “And you’re just as sexy in it. You’re amazing me.”

“Ha!” Lucy laughed, “Well, how about getting your sexy girl a cup of coffee, whilst I get changed,” as she raised her now empty cup up for me to take.

“Well, that’s some fluffy slippers for the collection!” she joked, as she got up off the lounge floor.

“Yeah, and a lot more,” I suggested, “We going to be seeing these items making an appearance around the house, now? Or you just building your own stock pile?”

“You want to see more of Lucy, do you?” she asked, as she leant against the door frame on her way out.

“I wasn’t saying that, I mean, it’s up to you. I’m cool,”

“Oh, well, if you don’t want me to. I wouldn’t want to force you to see me, in these things,” she replied, with an exaggerated sad face. “I think there’s just one more set. Where do you want me?”

“Is it one of the sexier ones?” I asked, in eager anticipation.

“Yes. It’s my favourite set,” she replied.

“On the bed. Your place or mine?” I asked with a smile, before we agreed to use my room again.

“It’s a long time since I’ve had a beautiful woman in my bedroom,” I said, as Lucy climbed back onto my bed.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Get a move on, it’s freezing in here. Thanks for leaving the window open!”

“Well, I can warm you up, whenever you want,” I joked

“Ha. Ha. Come on, let’s get this done. I need the loo.”

“Yes, you’re right. Probably a good idea. I can’t go on much longer like this,” I suggested

“How do you mean?” Lucy asked, with a raise of her eyebrows.

I took a deep breath, “Erm,” I paused, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve got some serious blue balls going on here. Sorry.”

Lucy looked down at my crotch, “Well, you can tell your client that the lingerie has the desired effect!” she joked, “And if you think you’ve been doing a job of hiding that lump in your trousers, you’re kidding yourself,” she added with a wink.

“Well? What do you expect? It’s not everyday you realise you’re living with a bona fide lingerie model,” I suggested.

“Aww, you’re too sweet,” said Lucy, standing to lean into my body, and giving me a kiss on the cheek, before leaving to get changed.

“She must have known that she was rubbing up against my dick?” I thought to myself. “No,” I convinved myself, “She was just trying to tease me.”

***

“Do you think Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk take breaks in the middle of the afternoon, mister?” Lucy asked as I walked from the kitchen, out onto the garden patio, where she was sat with a drink.

“Sorry, Lucy. This particular tycoon needs a drink, and five minutes,” I replied.

“Sorry, just teasing. I think you need more breaks. You’re working far too hard” she smiled.

“So, what’s this? You been raiding the garage stock room again?” I asked, gesturing towards what Lucy was wearing.

“Yeah. You don’t mind, do you? Just playing a bit of dress up. You know, to break the boredom,” she suggested.

How could I mind? I wanted to stare into her eyes for the rest of the afternoon. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d have sworn that she was giving me the come to bed eyes. “No, of course not. You help yourself. Consider it all yours,” I smiled.

“Thanks. There’s some really nice stuff in there. I’m looking forward to trying it on.”

“Maybe you can show me, sometime?” I offered.

“You sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she suggested.

“Not at all. It’s lovely having a bit of feminine company around here; the fact you’re not half bad to look at, is just a bonus,” I smiled.

“Aww, you are sweetie, aren’t you,” said Lucy, getting up, and running her fingers across the top of my shoulders as she walked back towards the house, “Let me get you a drink,” as she went back into the kitchen.

“So,” she started when she returned with my drink, “When’s the next shoot? Or am I surplus to requirements now?”

“Not a chance. You’re my number one girl, remember?” I smiled, with Lucy flashing me her amazing smile back, “I think something is going to be confirmed tomorrow. It’s more evening wear. I’m not sure it’s for you; or for me at all.”

“Oh yeah? Why so?” Lucy asked with a frown, leaning forward in the seat shed just retaken.

“Well, the client wants some outdoor photos. They’re worried that all the shots online are starting to look quite similar. I’ve had no joy to date in arguing with the authorities that I am travelling around on business, so that restricts me to models that I can meet during the one trip out of the house that we’re allowed for exercise,” I replied with a resigned shrug.

“Yeah, and? What’s wrong with me?” Lucy asked.

“You’d be willing to do this outdoors. In public?” I asked.

“What? You ashamed to be seen with me?” Lucy teased, “And anyway, didn’t you tell me that the adverts my photos are used for are seen by hundreds of thousands of people online? I practically am doing this in public,” she rationalised.

“Sorry, I’d love you to do it,” I beamed, perhaps too enthusiastically, “Brilliant! So, how would we do it? We’re allowed out of the house once a day, and we have three maybe four outfits to shoot.”

Lucy thought for a moment, “Well, depends on the outfits, the locations and how long you have. If we’re walking there, it won’t be far. Assuming the outfits are similar dresses to last time, I don’t want to be changing behind trees. If the timeline allows, how about three or four walks, over a few days. No need to change en route, then. It will be good to get you some fresh air, too. I worry how long you work each day.”

“Ha! Don’t worry about me. I’d be much worse off, if it weren’t for you,” I suggested, “And yeah, that sounds a good idea. If I get them to send out the products now, I can free up some more time. How about you start thinking of some possible locations? Bars that we can make it look like we’re visiting might be a good start.”

“I’m on it!” she smiled.

***

We walked for about 20 minutes to get to the first location Lucy had found. She had been scouting for possible places on her daily walks around the neighbourhood. It’s not that we didn’t know our local area well, we did; especially the bars. We just weren’t sure what the status was of all the places we knew from about six-months ago. During the lockdown, were these venues being maintained, or perhaps they may have shutdown already.

Once there, I gave Lucy her heels that I’d been carrying in my rucksack, and she gave me the trainers that she had been walking in. I’d carried my camera kit already set-up, rather than wanting to linger any longer than we needed.

“Will this do?” Lucy asked, as she started to pose for shots.

“Yes. Perfect. You just do your thing, and I’ll snap away,” I suggested, as Lucy got into her usual routine of poses.

“You look incredible, Lucy. You have such a great figure, and cracking legs; that smile is so beautiful” I encouraged, as I continued to shoot. “Okay, I think we have enough. Good job.”

Lucy started to slowly walk back in the direction that we had come from just a few minutes ago.

“Aren’t you going to change back into your trainers?” I asked, taking the rucksack they were contained within off my back.

Lucy walked back towards me, “No, I’m okay. I’ll just hold your arm, to keep me safe”, as she looped her arm under mine with a smile, before we started walking towards our home.

It was a similar routine for the next few days. It was great being out of the house, and also with Lucy. Her smile made me feel so good; I couldn’t help but smile back at her, whenever she smiled towards me off camera. She had taken to wearing heels on our walks, rather than changing from trainers. I thought that must have been a little bit uncomfortable; but she was okay as long as she was holding my hand to steady her, on the walk to our location and back.

Lucy had shared a great idea for the location that the last outfit was going to be shot in. Rather than just standing outside closed bars and restaurants, she’d thought about taking some props into a beer garden area. It definitely made a more realistic shot; although we were just waiting for someone to come and tell us to ‘bugger off’, so we were in and out pretty quickly.

“That’s such a pretty photo. You look so beautiful, so happy. I think we should keep that one for ourselves,” I suggested with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s nice. If I had any social media as Lucy, that would make a great profile picture.”

“Yeah, beautiful,” I emphasised.

“Not so bad yourself,” smiled Lucy, as she took a hold of my hand for our walk home.

***

“So, what exactly does this mean?” I asked Luke, as I entered the lounge, catching the last few minutes of the latest government announcement.

“Well, it’s complicated. Basically, hospitality can open with restrictions. And we’re not limited to only leaving the house once a day,” Luke explained, after following the briefing from start to end.

“I often don’t leave the house at all,” I joked, “So what about pubs, and bars and restaurants? What are these restrictions? It seems to vary around the country, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. For us, it’s seated only; so no ordering or drinking at the bar. Venues have to close by 10pm. Masks must be worn when not sat at a table. And it’s a maximum of six, with no mixing of households. So, you’re basically still stuck with me!” Luke headlined.

I smiled to myself, thinking that things could be a lot worse. “Fancy going to the pub then? When they open?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luke smiled back.

“So, is this the end of you needing me?” Luke asked, taking a sip of his first drink in a pub for many months. “Things should start to get back to how things were before now.”

I paused, to make sure I knew what I was saying, “Maybe I don’t want things to get back to being how they were before? As I’ve told you, you’re my number one girl. Not only do I need you, I’d miss you too much. I have kind of got used to Lucy being around.”

Luke swallowed hard, “Ha! Let’s see if you’re still saying that when the girls are back out and about in their skimpy little outfits, and you feel like you’ve got six months to be catching up on!” he laughed.

I shook my head with a cheeky smile, “How about we see if I am still saying that when you’re out in your skimpy little outfits. Can I take Lucy out for a drink tomorrow? As a thank you.” I don’t know why I added the last part. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a lot to be grateful for, but I wanted to be with Lucy out of choice; not because I thought owed it.

“Ha! There’s no need for that. But yeah, sure. Why not.”

***

We walked to the bar hand in hand, our fingers intertwined. Lucy tottering along beside me, her black high heel pumps clicking along the pavement. I led her into the bar, before we were both then guided to our pre-booked table outside. It was a sunny, warm evening, and we didn’t want to be cooped up indoors.

“Is this okay for you?” I asked, as I pulled out Lucy’s chair for her.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” she half giggled, as she lowered herself into the chair, taking her handbag off her shoulder, and placing it on the table. “I’ve never had anyone pull my chair out for me.”

Time was flying. We had not stopped smiling and laughing since we had arrived; with the table service bringing us our drinks, we’d not spotted we’d already been there for over an hour.

“I know I’m sounding like a broken record, but you look so pretty. I don’t remember that outfit though. Is it from the stash in the garage?” I asked, once we’d both composed ourselves from the last laughing fit.

“No. I got it from town this morning. You like it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it looks great. You look gorgeous in everything though. You buying more clothes then?”

“Well, I can’t be relying on whatever briefs land on your desk. I could have a wardrobe of just sexy little dresses, bras and panties,” Lucy laughed.

“And I’d not be complaining,” winked John.

“John?” Lucy paused, “Is this like, a date? I mean, it feels like a date.”

“Yes, I was kind of hoping so,” I replied with a smile, “I guess I was just too big a coward to ask you out properly.”

“Well, that’s good. I can now look forward to my goodnight kiss, and you asking if you can take me out again,” Lucy stated with a wink, as she took a sip of her drink through the straw, not losing eye contact the entire time.

“Yes, you definitely can!” I laughed.

“So, why didn’t you ask me out properly then?” she asked as she put her drink down, clearly not going to let me off that easily.

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d have said yes. I didn’t want to screw anything up. It could have got pretty awkward.”

Lucy shook her head, “What more should I have done? I’ve been flirting with you like crazy for weeks. I mean, during the lingerie shoot, would it have taken me dropping to my knees and unzipping your flies, to give you a clearer signal? I rubbed up against your hard on, for Christ’s sake!”

I spat my beer onto the table, before us both bursting out laughing.

“Sorry babe, guess I’m just a bit slow,” as I wiped up the split beer with a paper napkin.

We only had the table booked for two hours, and all too soon, I was leading Lucy back out of the bar.

“I know it’s not goodnight just yet, but,” as I stopped outside the bar, and took Lucy in my arms. I bent down and kissed her gently, as she wrapped her hands around my neck, before teasing her hands through the hair at the back of my head. My hands slipped from her waist, to massage her backside through the skin tight trousers that she was wearing, pulling her into me.

“Oh, there he is again,” she teased, releasing her arms from around my neck and reaching to massage my erect cock through my jeans, “You could take someone’s eye out with that. Most likely mine!” she winked, before taking my hand, and leading us home.

Once back inside our house, I was led into the lounge, and was pushed down onto the sofa. Lucy lowered herself down onto me, her knees straddling my legs, as our crotches rubbed together, me pulling Lucy into my body, by cupping her arse. We made out for what felt like hours; our tongues aggressively exploring each other’s mouths. After not having any intimate contact for over six-months, to have her hands exploring my body, squeezing and stroking me, and her mouth kissing, nibbling, and sucking at me felt absolutely incredible. I wanted her so badly.

“So, what was that you were saying earlier about dropping to your knees?” I whispered.

“What kind of girl do you take me for?” Lucy teased, “Not on a first date.”

“So? Let me take you out for dinner? Tomorrow?” I asked.

“I can hardly wait,” she replied with a smile. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to use photos of me to wank yourself off again,” she winked, before landing a tender kiss on my lips, and heading off to bed.

“How did she know?” I thought to myself with a smile, not really caring.

***

“You look incredible, Lucy. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful,” I told her, as I took both her hands and kissed her cheek. “Come on babe, our Uber is already here, as I kept a hold of one of her hands, and led her from the kitchen and out of the front door.

“That was amazing! You looked like you enjoyed yours too,” said Lucy, just after the waitress took away the plates after we had finished our starters.

“Yes, it was great,” I confirmed, before deciding to up the conversation a little.

“So, Lucy, have you got your head around what’s going on? I mean, is this just playing around with dressing up, or do you think you’re, what, transgender?”

“Wow, you’re not messing around, are you?” Lucy laughed. “However, I honestly don’t know. I think there’s something going on here though; this is more than dressing up to avoid the boredom. That was genuinely how it started; I didn’t want to be all girly then. I really don’t know; I’m not sure I’ve got the words to describe it. Maybe I’m, what do they call it, gender fluid. I’m really enjoying looking like this, behaving like this, I’m enjoying being treated like a girl, enjoying being with you now, and I have,“ Lucy stopped herself.

“Go on,” I encouraged, “You can tell me.”

“Okay,” Lucy paused, “I have what has become a bit of an obsession with sucking your cock. It’s all I’ve been thinking about, when I’ve been playing with myself.”

I was lucky that I hadn’t taken a sip of my beer, or it would have been deposited on the table again.

“That’s really strange,” I replied, “Because I’ve developed a bit of an obsession with you sucking me off, too!” we both laughed.

“Well, I hope to be able to help you out with that later,” Lucy winked, before taking a sip of wine.

I think we were quite pleased that the main courses came out quite quickly, and before we knew it, I was paying the bill, and wrapping an arm around Lucy’s waist to lead her out of the restaurant. She gave me a quick kiss, and thanked me for dinner, before we got into the Uber that we had booked. Having to wear face masks in the taxi meant that is was a pretty reserved drive home.

I followed Lucy into the house, and through into the kitchen, where we kissed passionately; me pushing her up against the worktop, our bodies writhing together, and my hands exploring her slender body. Lucy broke off the kiss, and asked me to follow her upstairs in five minutes. Entering her bedroom, she had clearly spent the day tidying it up. It looked, felt and smelled like a more feminine space. There were candles lit, illuminating Lucy lying on the bed in some of her sexy lingerie.

“Come here,” she said, raising herself to her knees, taking my hands and guiding me onto the bed, where she started to undress me. We passionately kissed as she removed my clothes, until I was fully naked. Lucy’s slender body, in her skimpy lingerie was irresistible, and I could stop touching and squeezing her. She wriggled down my body, kissing it as she went, until her head was in my crotch.

She tipped her head back, to make eye contact with me; I just smiled back in anticipation. She gave a cheeky wink, and slowly licked her lips. Breaking eye contact to lean into my crotch, she grabbed hold of my hips.

My cock was upright in front of her, and she started licking my shaft slowly, from bottom to top. Tickling my balls with her tongue when she got to the bottom, and encircling it around the tip. She was clearly taking the sounds I was making as a sign that I was enjoying what she was doing.

From her tongue running circles around its tip, she widened her mouth to accept my cock, as her saliva ran down the length of my shaft. Her lips went further down my cock, until she couldn’t fit any more in her mouth. She slowly sucked on me, as I groaned, using this as a sign to go a bit faster, swallowing as much cock as she could, and trying to french kiss it. I lowered both of my hands to hold the side of her head. She raised one of her arms to rest on my bare stomach, the other on my hip, before slowing once again and rhythmically bobbing up and down, slobbering over my cock. “I’m going to cum” I said breathlessly, before my cock started to spasm. She eased off, and played with the tip of my cock with her tongue, her lips still around his cock as I exploded into her mouth. Instinctively, she swallowed the thick, warm load that I had just deposited, before she licked my cock clean, maintaining eye contact as she went.

“Lucy, that was incredible. That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever had!” I said, as Lucy made her way back up to the pillow.

“It was pretty good for me, too,” she replied, before kissing my forehead and darting out of the bedroom, returning a minute later having brushed her teeth and changed into the silk nightie, “You can allow yourself a proper feel, this time,” as she lay on top of me, and kissed me.

***

I was awake, as usual, in the early hours. Lucy was still fast asleep, and still looking absolutely gorgeous. I lightly kissed her forehead a good morning, and headed to my own bedroom to start work.

“Where did you go?” asked Lucy, as she entered my room a couple of hours later. “I woke up, and my man wasn’t there,” as she lowered herself onto my lap, where I sat at my desk; her kissing me and my cock immediately springing up to poke into her bum.

“John, you’re insatiable!” she teased as she slid off my lap, and onto her knees.

We next saw each other at breakfast. I didn’t usually eat breakfast, but I was a couple of days ahead of where my schedule needed to be, and I wanted to see Lucy. She was casually dressed, but made up to look as beautiful as ever.

“So, are you a girl full time now then? I asked

“Yes, I have decided to, for now,” she nodded, “I want to be your girl, not your pretty little boyfriend. I mean, if you’d have me as your girlfriend?”

“Are you joking?” I asked, as I paused from making myself a coffee, “That’s all I want right now,” as I bent down to where Lucy was sat, and gave her a tender kiss. “I love you, Lucy”

Lucy smiled one of her beautiful smiles, “I love you, too. Wow,” Lucy said, “I have a boyfriend. What an interesting few weeks!” she winked up to me. “Do you want to keep this a secret from our friends, and our family?”

“I’m okay with whatever you are. I’m not ashamed to have a beautiful girlfriend that loves sucking my dick,” I laughed.

“Yeah, I’m going to suggest that’s not how you announce us to your Mum!” we both laughed. “About your dick, I don’t want you doing anything to mine. Or to even see it. Okay?”

“Erm, yeah, okay. Why?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. I’m still getting my head around a few things,” she said, “I’ll let a few folks know about what’s going on then, if that’s okay? I mean us, not my dick!” we both laughed, “I’ve not yet worked out what I’m doing with work, but whilst we’re on furlough, that’s not coming to a head.”

“Well, we’re in this together. Me and my girl. Let me know what you need from me,” I offered.

Lucy got up and started to head out of the kitchen, stopping to whisper into my ear, “Right, now I need you to figure out how your cock can explore my arse, without you seeing my dick,”

I was shocked, as Lucy started to back towards the door with a wicked look on her face, I started to slowly walk towards her, before she squealed and ran out of the kitchen and upstairs; me running after her, and into what I suppose had become our bedroom.

***

“So, that’s most of our close friends and family that know we’re a couple now?” I asked.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Lucy replied, “I think.”

“How did they react?” I wondered.

“I think everyone’s pretty cool with it. Hope we’re happy together, and all that,” Lucy fed back, “I think it’s the neighbours that are more confused than anyone else!”

“So, they know you’re living as a girl full time, too?” I asked, “I don’t mean our neighbours!”

“Well, yeah, wrapped it all up together. So, I guess only those stuck in the past think you’re gay!” she teased.

“I don’t care what people think; I just love you,” as I kissed Lucy. “Anyway, I need to get back to work, and you need to sort out those three parcels that arrived this morning. Two are for you to model, and the one needs to be sent out to Lucinda.”

Business had turned a corner. The easing of the lockdown restrictions, coupled with the couriers finally getting their act together, had removed much of the hassle that had been created previously. Lucy was modelling almost half of the briefs that came into me.

After repeated requests from some of my clients, she had set up an Instagram account, and her sharing of photos on there had already seen her attract almost twenty thousand followers in an incredibly short amount of time. This meant she was sometimes also paid to promote the clothes that she was wearing, and she had decided to legally change her name to avoid unnecessary questions around names on bank accounts.

Lucy being a man occasionally came up in her Instagram comments; we weren’t bothered by this. In fact, the people making these comments – clearly people we must have known from somewhere – were often ridiculed by other followers. Lucy never deleted anything, and didn’t respond to comments, either. I had been acting as a business manager for her, and then for several other of the models, fielding the emails that came in from brand owners.

Yes, business was going pretty well. I’d cut down the working day to a more manageable length; and was even taking regular breaks.

***

“What do you think?” asked Lucy, as she returned from a trip into town.

“Something’s different, isn’t it? Is it your lips?” I asked

“Yeah. Good boy for spotting it. I’ve had fillers put in. What do you think?”

“They look good. Do they hurt?” I asked

“No, they’re fine,” Lucy responded.

“Good,” as I took her in my arms, and gave her a long kiss. “So, considering any other changes?”

“Is this the boob job, again?” Lucy asked.

“What do you mean, again? I only mentioned it once; and that was to ask whether you were ever thinking about it. I’d not try and get you to anything. Especially about your own body.” I argued.

“I know, just teasing. Maybe. Maybe a possible Christmas present?” Lucy asked.

“I’m glad you said Christmas, and not your birthday; business isn’t doing that well. Not just yet.” I joked.

***

Lucy’s birthday was the following week. I had already sorted out her presents. A few bits, and one larger present. I think I’d picked up on the hints over the past couple of months. They hadn’t exactly been subtle.

“Oh, John! She’s beautiful! It is a she, isn’t it? It can be hard to sometimes tell,” she said, with a wink.

“Yes, she is. And don’t worry, she’s a rescue dog. I know how you feel about that.”

The rest of the day was spent with Lucy playing with her new friend, and posting pictures onto her Instagram. I wish I’d changed out of my gym kit, if I knew she was going to publish one of me.

***

Business continued to do well. Really well. I had about fifteen regular clients, and tens that would reach out to me regularly for little pieces of work. Lucy hadn’t gone back to work, and was working full time with me. A bit of modelling, but mostly as some kind of operations manager.

It became time for us to stop renting our house, and decided to get a house together. We’d gone fifty-fifty on the deposit, and had filled the mortgage paperwork in as ‘common law partners'. We were so excited when we got the keys to our first real house together.

***

I don’t know if Lucy will ever forgive me, for proposing to her whilst we were so badly dressed. It was probably the first time I’d done something in years, without bothering to think what the photos would look like; I just wanted Lucy to be my wife. We’d have a lifetime to make photos together.

***

***

It felt like Ms Greenwood and Adam had been staring at me for ages. Time had stopped moving forwards, and I was stuck in this incredibly embarrassing and uncomfortable moment. I knew this whole arrangement was going to be awkward, but I had not expected it to hit me like a brick wall.

“Right then,” said Ms Greenwood. “Sam, I can see you’re not quite ready, but Adam, are you done?”

“I was ready ages ago, Miss”, replied Adam. “Don’t understand why we had to come down here so early. I was going to pop into town after school, with the rest of the lads.”

Ms Greenwood clearly didn’t like her timing plan being questioned, as she folded her arms and turned her gaze to Adam, and sharply responded, “Well, if you’re ready, go. Go on. Head up to assembly hall, where the rest of the boys will be getting ready.”

Adam, not picking up on her mild frustration, just looked back at her, a bit confused. “But, it’s not even 4 o’clock yet. Aren’t they coming over here to get changed?”

Again, Ms Greenwood didn’t appreciate the questions. “No. They’ll be getting ready by the stage, and will be arriving about now. Remember, we said we’d start at 4. And it was just you two getting ready down here.”

“Sparing us ‘girl’s’ our modesty, Miss?” Asked Adam, cheekily.

“Tell the rest of the boys we’ll be over shortly, to start on time,” instructed the teacher, completely ignoring Adam’s other comment.

Once Adam left, time failed to move any quicker. It felt like Ms Greenwood resumed her staring at me, and I didn’t get any more comfortable. It felt like I had made a massive mistake.

“It looks like you’re nearly ready, Sam. Is that right?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss. I just need to put my dress and shoes on,” as I stood there with a fully made-up face, a brushed wig and a dressing gown on. “My make-up has taken most of my time so far.”

“Why didn’t you get dressed and then do your makeup? Which is looking incredibly good, by the way. Have any tips on how to do that so quickly?” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Sam, I don’t want to be nosey, or make you feel uncomfortable, but, have you done this before?”

“No! Of course not. I’m just trying to do things as well as I can.” I spluttered, somewhat defensively.

It was now Ms Greenwood’s turn to feel uncomfortable “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that, it’s none of my business. And yes, you’re definitely trying very hard, there’s no doubt of that. And sorry, it’s just a much better job than in all my years of plays at this school, I’ve ever seen any boy do before. Have you had any help?”

“That’s okay Miss. But yes, my sister has been helping me. It’s all down to me today, though,” surprising myself with how proud that statement sounded. “It was her that suggested I put my underwear on first, then wear a dressing gown, and then do my makeup. Her reason sounded sensible at the time; something about getting makeup on my costume. Also about removing the chances of any boys seeing my bra and panties. Perhaps I misunderstood – there’s been so much information to take in.” I answered, feeling a bit more comfortable about things.

“Bra and panties? Right, I see. I think. Well, she must have been a great help, if this is your first time dressing in women’s clothes. Not, erm, sure I fully understand the second reason though, and your, erm, underwear. Anyway, let me know if you need any help with your dress, and then when you’re ready to go.”

I sensed that Ms Greenwood had more questions, or hadn’t got out what was on her mind. Once she had left the changing room I quickly put on my black dress, and strapped my feet into the high heeled sandals. After a check and pose in the mirror, I was ready to go.

My sister really had been a huge help to me in preparing for this. Yes, both her and my Mum teased me fiercely when they learnt what role I had been cast in. Beyond being their brother and son, the only other thing they’d have previously known me as was a tough rugby player, albeit a small one. Once the teasing passed, my sister even came back from university a handful of times, to help me out.

Why, I do not know. Perhaps she enjoyed having me as a life-sized Barbie doll. But it felt more than that. She has always impressed on me that ‘if something is worth doing, then it is worth doing properly’. Definitely something I could have once imagined my Dad saying, and he’d be proud of her for living his values. Not so sure he’d have been as proud of me playing a girl in the school play, as he was when I was selected for the county rugby team.

As part of my sisters plan for ‘doing it properly’ was instruction on how to apply my own makeup, followed by repeated attempts to get it right. Late night Facetime make-up tutorials wasn’t how I thought I’d be spending my time, when I signed-up for drama club. There was then plenty of walking around the house in high heels of all sorts of styles and heights, and what felt like hours of modelling different costume options; I think I must have tried on most of my sister’s clothes, to nods of approval or headshakes of displeasure from my Mum and sister support team.

That was, before my sister decided that the third costume brief needed a new dress, and a shopping trip. At the time, I thought my sister asking a shop assistant at a boutique dress shop to show her brother to the fitting rooms was as weird as things could get, but what later grew to feel much stranger was the weird feeling that I’ve worn her new dress before her. However, if she needed an excuse to treat herself, then so be it - although, her little brother needing a little black dress isn’t the most mainstream of reasons.

“Okay, Sam, time to go”, said Ms Greenwood, knocking on the changing room door.

“Has she been waiting outside?” I thought to myself. Perhaps she was uncomfortable being in the changing rooms at a boy’s school.

Stepping out of the changing room, and into the main school corridor, Ms Greenwood smiled warmly at me, tilting her head to the side and putting her hands together in front of her chest.

“Well, Sam, I’ve heard what you said about dressing up, and I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I must say – you look absolutely stunning. That dress. Wow. You, and your sister, should be really proud of how hard you’ve clearly worked on your prep.” Stepping towards me and putting her hands on my upper arms, she added, “And for that, thank you, it’s really appreciated.”

I could feel myself getting warm, and think my face must have been turning red.

“Erm, that’s okay. You’re welcome?” Not fully sure what I was being thanked for.

“Let’s go,” said the teacher, turning on her heels, and heading up the parquet floored corridor.

I followed, half a step behind, my high heeled sandals echoing down the corridor with each small step. Ms Greenwood slowed, looking more at my feet than where she was going.

“You look pretty comfortable in those sandals. What are they, like three or four inches?” she asked.

“I’ve been practising quite a bit. And, erm, I have no idea. Er, yeah, about that, I’d guess.”

“They look good, and your painted toe nails look good in them,” she said, with a grin.

I didn’t know what to say to that. But then my phone beeped several times in my hand. Raising it up, I saw that I’d received three new WhatsApp messages.

“Matching stick-on finger nails, too?” Asked Ms Greenwood, on seeing my hands around the phone.

I took that as a rhetorical question. If it wasn’t, again, I didn’t really know what to say.

The messages had all just come through as I picked up a signal. The gymnasium changing rooms are a signal blackspot, and these messages had been sent over the past 30 minutes.

“Good luck, ‘Little Sis’ ;)” from my Sister. “See you tonight, as I’m back for a couple of days, xxx”.

“Break a leg, Sam! Send me pics. X”, from my Mum

“Going to The Station later?” from my mate, and fellow rugby player, James

I lowered the phone after reading. I needed to concentrate on this slippy, polished floor, and these nails made it difficult enough to unlock the phone, let alone type.

“Just my Mum and Sister wishing me good luck,” I told Ms Greenwood, to break the silence.

“They can’t say that!” Ms Greenwood laughed out. “It’s ‘break a leg’ in the theatre world.”

“Ha, yeah!” I acknowledged. Not sharing that’s what my Mum had said. “My Mum also wants me to take some pictures, too.”

“Do you want one now?” asked Ms Greenwood.

“I think she wants ones of the cast. You know, during the rehearsal. Behind the scenes style.”

“Hmm, maybe. However, I think she’d like to see how good a job you’ve done on your costume. Come on, let’s get one now, before we forget later. Give me your phone.”

I nodded my agreement, and passed her my phone.

“Over here,” gestured the teacher, “Against the staircase railings. The older parts of this school are so beautiful, they’ll make a lovely background.”

I shuffled over to the railings, and followed Ms Greenwood’s direction.

“Ha ha! That’s hilarious.” I laughed out. “You’ve got me looking like an Instagram influencer. I look like a clown!”

Ms Greenwood laughed along. “Good, because that’s what I was going for. Sorry, just teasing.”

We both laughed.

“Send that to your Mum. If you can type with those nails.”

Smiling broadly, “Yes, I can just about manage, Ms Greenwood.”

“Sam, you can call me Sarah. At least when the others aren’t around.”

“Okay, Sarah.”

The sound made by my high-heeled sandals clicking along the wooden flooring was almost hypnotic. Despite this being the furthest I’d ever walked in heels, and also the first time wearing some outside my own house, I was ‘in the zone’. What had once taken serious concentration to avoid breaking my ankle was now coming almost naturally.

“It’s just one foot in front of the other, slightly crossing your feet from one side to the other in front of you, to make your hips swing out a bit”, I was suddenly reminded of Claire’s instructions, and her increasing levels of frustration with me. “No! You’re not a catwalk model or a drag queen. Stop screwing it up!” My Sister hadn’t often struggled with sharing what she was thinking.

Whilst my technique eventually had reached a standard to my Sister’s satisfaction, now that I was doing it without concentrating, I became aware of a series of sensations that I had not previously felt. It was in fact the short, quite tight skirt of my dress was restricting my leg extension, and not the fear of that broken ankle, as I had previously assumed. This was and also causing the smooth inside of my thighs to skim together on each step. My fake breasts were jiggling in my bra more than I had previously felt, perhaps due to the hardness of the floor.

My Sister never did say where she got them from, but I sure as hell would have been tricked by them, if I hadn’t applied them to my chest.

Then there was my backside. Had the heels acted to push it out as much as that when I was walking around the house? Slowing down to pass a couple of the glazed classroom doors, it definitely caught my eye in the reflection. “Great!” I thought. I’ve been teased relentlessly about my backside over the past five years or so. I’ve argued back in the past, and said that I simply had a low centre of gravity, which made me so difficult to be rugby tackled. “They’re going to be merciless about this!”

The sensations, however, weren’t bad or uncomfortable. Just felt different. I caught myself smiling.

“After you.” said Sarah, breaking the silence, as she gestured towards the assembly hall double-doors. “Deep breath”, she added with a smile, as she no-doubt sensed my momentary reluctance to push the door, and step through into the hall.

“Where is everyone?” she asked to Adam, the only boy in the large hall

“On their way back up from town, Miss. I’ve just group messaged them. Like me, they thought we were meeting at 4pm.”

Whilst I too thought we were meeting at that time, I thought Adam really should quit criticising the planning. It is what it is now.

“How long are they going to be? We’re going to be here all night at this…” the teacher asked, the frustration clear in her voice, as she was interrupted by the loud banging noise of the external doors on the far side of the hall swinging open.

“Right. There you are. Is that all of you? Quickly, quickly. In you come. I’ll remind you later about not using the fire doors to enter the hall,” she went on.

The large group of boys shuffled into the room. Most of them ignoring their teacher urging them to hurry. “No, Miss. There are a couple of the guys still waiting at Subway – they had a problem with their tills”, one of the group answered to their question, “no one could scan their debit cards.”

Sarah just closed her eyes briefly, as if to say “why me?”

Nervously standing two or three small steps into the hall, I quickly realised that most of the boys were looking at me, from where they had congregated in the centre. Of those looking at me, I’d guess that half looked confused, the rest were smiling. They must think I have made a complete clown out of myself.

“Fuck me, that’s Walker!” One of the boys shouted, to be met with groans of confusion and disbelief, and then roaring laughter.

I let out a heavy sigh, and a knowing half nod. I was then left standing there, one leg crossed in front of the other, and my arms crossed under my chest.

Sarah gave the boys a few moments to settle down, before raising her voice, “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Let’s get a few things straight here. First, that language will not be tolerated - I remind you that you’re still in school. Secondly, we’re not on the sports pitch, we use first names in this group. That is indeed ‘Sam’, not ‘Walker.’ And the third and final point, and one that you all really need to understand,” Sarah paused, checking all of the boys were listening. “Sam and Adam have two of the most challenging roles in this play. They did not ask for them, especially with Sam being such an acting novice, but they have not moaned or whinged. They – hopefully just like each of you – have been trying to do their best performance. I will not tolerate any teasing of them. And, just so we’re all clear, this is my script and my casting; I can quite easily find a few more female roles for anyone who ignores what we’ve discussed today. Are we all clear?”

“Yes, Miss”, the boys inharmoniously chanted back. I really hoped they’d understood, rather than just responding to the teacher out of habit.

Sarah looked over her shoulder towards me, and gave me a reassuring wink. I smiled back. It was then that I was reminded that I – like most of the class – had quite a crush on her when she first taught us in Year 8. I think the thirteen year old me would likely have passed out, if she had winked at me back then. I guess she’s still the best looking of the female teachers, but it is slim pickings.

The group of boys then dispersed around the room. Most of the drama society members have been doing this for several years, and I guess they knew what was expected of them. The actors started getting into their costumes, and the backstage support guys started doing whatever is it that they needed to get done. A few of my mates, from class and from the rugby team came over to me. I’d never felt so nervous about to chat with my friends.

“Bloody hell, Sam. You look well fit!” joked Martin. “Or, is it Samantha now?”

“Ha bloody ha. God I wish Sarah had overheard that.” I shot back.

“Sarah?” Mike questioned. “Sounds like the girls are sticking together. It’s still Ms Greenwood for us!”

“It’s heart warming to be reminded just how hilarious my mates are.” This went on for a while, all the time, all of them slowly eyeing me up and down, with strange grins. I had no doubt they were absorbing all of the details, to they had maximum ammunition for the teasing that was to come.

“In all seriousness, I’m not surprised”, Martin contributed. “I mean, you look much, erm, better than I thought you would – not that I’d ever thought what you would look like. But your Dad never allowed you or your sister do anything by half. I remember how he’d shout, I erm, mean, ‘encourage’ you from the touchline. Put 100% into everything, especially if it’s something you don’t want to do, and all that. There’s something bugging me though?”

Oh no, here it comes. I could start to feel myself turning red again.

Martin looked towards Chris, “If Sam can pull this off, just imagine how pretty Chris would look. He’s a big girl before even going near a dress!”

We all burst into laughter. Chris has been relentlessly teased about being a big girl for years. It has been going on for so long, we can’t either recall how it started or identify what behaviour or aspect of his appearance that once might have supported the teasing. It’s basically just how easily Chris is triggered by this, which keeps it going.

The hustle and bustle of the room was interrupted by the external doors banging open again, with the remaining four or five boys arriving after their visit to town.

“So kind of you to join us! How were your sandwiches? So sorry they kept you waiting,” there’s nothing quite as dangerous as a sarcastic teacher. Most of us have learnt to tread carefully.

“They’re only about ten minutes late.” Adam interjected. What is it with this guy, and the timing plan? Ms Greenwood let it wash over her, and chose to ignore it.

The recent joiners merged into the various groups around the hall. Led by Matt Parker, the leading man in this play, and generally a bit of a self-absorbed dick. I think American’s might know the type as a ‘big man on campus’, at least someone who thought that’s what they were. We thought he was a dick.

“Ha ha ha!” Raucous laughter erupted from one of the groups. “Hey, everyone! Parker fancies Samantha!” shouted one of the group members, for the attention of the rest of the room. Matt Parker had apparently been somewhat complimentary about the unknown blonde, whilst he was trying to find out who she was.

With Sarah’s earlier sarcastic comment still fresh in everyone’s ears, few chose to join in with the laughter; opting to tread somewhat more carefully than others. “Well, Mr Jones, Ian, that’s you on a warning. Well done. Any more of this silliness and you’ll be in a female role. Everyone - please ensure that all latecomers understand what we discussed earlier.” She wasn’t in the mood for messing about today, and the room went back to its hustle, although quieter than before.

As Ian Jones passed nearby, he was muttering to himself, “Like to see her try, I’m the prompt.”

A few more moments passed, before Sarah once again made herself heard, “Come on everyone, gather around, quickly now, come on, come on.”

We all gathered around her, Sarah in the centre of a circle of thirty or so cast and crew members. I was stood next to my friend Martin, who gently nudged me to get my attention and said under his breath “What are you doing? Do you know what that looks like?”

“What?” I whispered, without taking my eyes off Sarah in the centre of the circle. I was completely confused.

He looked me up and down out of the corner of his eye. “How you’re standing. The play hasn’t started yet! That’s how girls pose, when they’re trying to look sexy”, he continued, in a hushed tone.

Not wanting to attract Sarah’s attention, I didn’t keep the conversation going. “How am I stood sexily?” I thought to myself. “I’m just standing, aren’t I?” Then I twigged. One leg was bent at the knee with only my toes touching the floor, and was partially crossed over the other at the knee, one hip had my hand on it and the other was sticking out to the side. That’s when I realised my head was tilted to the side, and with my other hand I was playing with the end of my long hair. I rapidly snapped myself into an upright position. More like standing to attention than at ease, but with my arms crossed across my chest. I almost immediately started playing with my hair, slowly twisting it around my fingers.

“That’s a bit better. But, you still look…” Martin’s further feedback was halted by a look from Ms Greenwood that said ‘shut up.’

Although my chat with Martin caused me to miss the start, Ms Greenwood was giving an overview of the plan for the evening. It would be a full start-to-end run through of the play. Minimal interruptions, unless absolutely necessary. Basically, it would be exactly the same as last week’s session, but in costume. We’d have another one of these next week, before our first of three planned performances.

“Is this is?” I thought to myself? Have the others got how am I dressed out of their system already? Are they such a ‘professional’ cast, they’ve just dealt with it? Being so used to spending time with sports teams, I am used to savage teasing. Is a bit of banter and a mate telling me so stop standing so sexily as bad as this gets? Well, that and having to shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows.

“Okay then. If that’s all clear, let’s make it a good one gents!” Ms Greenwood broke into a motivational round of applause, with everyone else joining in. “Okay, if you’re not in the first couple of scenes, please go and wait in the same room as last week. We can’t fit you all back stage, and it’s a good idea to practice us being in the right place at the right time, rather than sitting where the audience will be.” Ms Greenwood concluded.

As I wasn’t on stage early in the play, I started to head off to the dedicated waiting area with about ten others.

“Sam!” called Sarah, before half-jogging over to where I was, near the main entrance door. “The rest of you can go on”, she said, to the others, who had paused when I did.

“Yes Miss? I mean, Sarah?” I asked

“I’ve thought for your costume changes, it’s probably a good idea you do them away from the other boys. I’ve reflected on something you said earlier about your underwear. You’ve done such a good job, some of the boys may find everything a bit, erm, confusing.” Sarah awkwardly explained.

“Okay. Where should I change? The gym? I asked

Sarah had already come up with a plan. “No, the gym is too far to be going back and forth to, and to be honest, I think some parts of the school can be a bit scary walking about on your own, after hours. If you get your other costume now, I’ll give you the key for the room next to the holding room you were just heading to. I suggest you slip off there, when you come back from your last scene in what you’re currently wearing. Does that make sense?”

“Both costume changes? I have three costumes?” I pointed out

Sarah looked confused, “You do?”

“Yes. There’s what you called ‘little black dress for sophisticated party’ on the brief, that’s what I am wearing now. There’s the ‘business attire to include pencil skirt and high heel pumps, and then there’s what you put as ‘vest top, overshirt and jeans for coffee shop. Have I misunderstood something?” I was worried I had got the wrong costumes, and was going to look even sillier than I needed to.

Sarah started nodding, “Sorry Sam, my mistake. I was forgetting the sexy secretary scene. That scene wasn’t in my original draft of the script. Yes, take both those costumes from the gym now, and change into them in that second room, when you need to. See you in a bit, and break a leg,” she gave me a quick hug.

All I could think was “sexy secretary?” I don’t remembering that term being used before.

Instead of heading to the holding area, it was a shorter route for me to head first to the gymnasium changing rooms, and pick up my two other costumes. I therefore went in a different direction to the boys that were now likely already in the holding room, and I returned down the route I had just walked.

On my own, the noise generated by my heels striking the antique parquet floor sounded even louder than it had when I been here with Sarah, just a few moments earlier. I couldn’t, however, quite understand what she had meant when she said some parts of the school were scary. The sun was still shining strongly through the glazed corridors, and as a space, it felt no different to how it might, if you were to find yourself wandering the corridors whilst classes were ongoing. I would agree that some of the oldest parts of the school may feel a bit spooky, but that’s just the result of an over active imagination, and too many horror films.

I entered the changing area, and suddenly started to appreciate what Sarah had said. I did not feel as comfortable. The room now felt claustrophobic, with no windows, only air vents. No other way to get out, other than through the gymnasium, which had already been locked earlier in the day. Not locking it when classes weren’t been held inevitably led to older boys having games of basketball, when they should be self-guided study periods. It didn’t bother me too greatly. I would be in and out in a matter of seconds, which was indeed the case, as I walked back out after picking up the two separate carrier bags, containing the two different costumes.

One bag contained the ‘casual’ outfit. This was a vest top and a pair of jeans, there was also a fitted over-shirt that my sister had added in, although not in the brief I had received. The second outfit was the ‘secretary’ one. That was simply a white blouse and a black skirt. My sister had told me that the skirt wasn’t perfectly meeting the brief, but that she didn’t have a pencil skirt that would be a good fit for me. My sister and I were, unsurprisingly, different shapes. Whilst some clothes could allow for the differences in shape, I was told that a pencil skirt is all about the perfect fit. It was the black strappy sandals that would be paired with all three of the costumes.

I decided to leave my school uniform hanging up, across from Adam’s in the changing room, and my school bag under the bench. We would both return there to change, once the rehearsal was completed. Leaving him to change there on his own felt a bit mean, especially when I considered the recent uneasy feelings I had when in the room with no company.

Almost as soon as leaving the changing room area, I thought I heard a dull echo alongside my footsteps. Someone was walking towards me, from the other end of the long corridor. As the approaching figure became clearer, I realised it was the school caretaker. Somewhat stereotypically, he was an older man, slightly hunched back, greasy hair, brown workshop coat and a dislike for children so strong that many wondered why on earth he had taken a job in a school.

“Good evening, Miss. Are you lost? He asked, surprisingly cheerily. In several years at this school, I couldn’t recall if I had ever seen him smile before. Perhaps he’s at his happiest, when there are no kids messing up the buildings he looks after.

“Hi. No, I am just getting something from the changing rooms.” I answered, thinking that would be the end of it, with us having almost fully closed the gap between us.

The caretaker stopped in front of me, causing me to also come to a halt, and with a frown he asked, “Can I ask what business you have in the changing rooms? The school isn’t open to those that aren’t staff or students.”

“I’m with the play, I’m with Ms Greenwood.” I said, worried that I was going to get into trouble for something, although I couldn’t work out for what. I should have just said that I was a student. I was perhaps thinking that dropping a teachers name would give more authority to me being there so late.

The warmness in his face disappeard, and in a much colder tone he replied, “Oh. I see. You’re with her, are you? Typical.” He started walking off towards the gymnasium, opening up my route ahead. “What a waste,” I thought I heard him say, under his breath.

As I entered the holding room, I was met with a series of wolf-whistles, laughing and cheering. I worried that Sarah’s instructions had indeed been agreed to with no actual intention of honouring them, and I was in for the amount of teasing I would have expected. Which, I supposed was fine. I had prepared for that.

“Right,” I thought to myself, and decided to give them all a cute little curtsey, from where I stood one step inside the room. It was part of a semi-conscious plan to try and give me more control of the situation, and emasculate the effectiveness of their teasing. It was like something my Dad had once said about dealing with bullies; if they saw you’d stand up to them, and fight back, they’d go elsewhere. This strategy worked when I had first gone to secondary school, albeit after a few beatings.

Most of the boys waiting in the room were friends of mine, so the teasing was all good natured. Nothing nasty, whatsoever. Of the three that I wouldn’t call friends, I wasn’t unfriendly with any of them; we just moved in different circles. Or, at least we did. One of those different circles was once the drama club, that I am now part of. Perhaps this is the opportunity to make some new friends.

Instead of going towards one of the two groups that my friends had split into, I approached one of the three boys who sat in the room on their own. I got short shrift from the first one, who clearly wanted to be left on his own. I left him to his mumbling.

“Don’t mind him,” said the second boy that I would have approached. “Marcus is a decent guy. Honest! Just don’t distract him before he’s about to go on stage. He’s got a pretty big role this time, too.” I smiled back. “I think he’s a bit nervous, a few screw ups at last week’s rehearsal. Takes it all a bit too seriously, if you were to ask me,” he added in a hushed tone.

“Hi, I’m Sam,” offering my hand to this other boy.

“Sam, I know who you are; despite the new outfit,” he smiled, “Do you not recognise me? I was in your Economics class last year? George?” he said, happily shaking my hand, and not releasing it as quickly as I would have expected.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t recognise you,” I offered, although I was certain that I had never seen this guy before in my life. To spare his feelings I’d have considered blaming his costume, for my lack of recognition. His costume, however, constituent of a business suit. Hardly a disguise when it’s basically what we wear to school every single day, and that’s the costume for most of the guys.

“Much bigger role than you or I have. Too much for me,” he admitted. “Looks like you could be taking it almost as seriously as Marcus though,” looking me up and down. “What have you got, like five scenes or something? That’s as much as I’d be comfortable with.”

“Erm, no, it’s just the three. It’s a pretty small role. That’s totally fine with me, it’s the first time I’ve done this.”

George nodded. “Maybe a bigger role, next time, perhaps. Do you think it would be a girl’s role again? You look really good; I wish I could look that good.”

“Pardon?” I asked

“In my costume, I wish I had a good costume.” George stumbled out. “I don’t care what it is. You’re really lucky you can look so good. Really good.”

“I am? If I’m so lucky, how come you didn’t volunteer for this role then, if you wanted a costume?”

George smiled, “I’m not as brave as you. I wouldn’t be comfortable others knowing I’d be okay with dressing up like that; it looks fun. Oh. You won’t tell anyone I said that, will you?”

“George,” I reassured, “I can’t possibly imagine how that could possibly come up in conversation!”

We both laughed.

“Oh, it looks like George’s chat-up lines are more successful than I’d have guessed. You know what they say about men that can make women laugh!” shouted the third boy who was sat on his own. With everyone joining in the laughing, I decided I now wasn’t as in the mood to make new friends, as I had thought.

Between a bit of chatting with mates, and playing on my phone, the waiting around was really boring. In fact, most of my time was just waiting around. My introductory role into acting had been described by Sarah as ‘challenging’, but I realised that she was just being polite. It has the three scenes and a total of nine lines. Sarah had pointed out that much of the character development is done through text messages that my character had sent; but I don’t have any actual involvement in those. They’re just projected against a huge screen above the stage. She thought it was innovative.

I actually worried if my little dialogue put more pressure on me to remember my lines, or land them perfectly. If someone has hundreds of lines, they can’t be expected to remember them – I’d be expected to get things spot-on. But then, I am told I worry about most things.

I then remembered that I’d not responded to the message I’d received earlier from James. “Yeah. Will be in The Station as soon as we’re done here. Guess that’s going to be about 7, after the debrief and stuff.” I sent as a reply. He didn’t message me back, but saw that he’d received the message with the two blue ticks.

One of the runners who were responsible for making sure that cast members were in the right place and the right time entered the room. “Right, can we have Lucy, Charles and Gordon backstage now, please?” he asked, using our character names.

My first scene. My stomach turned over thinking about it. There would be a grand total of about five people in the audience this evening, so worried what I’d feel like when there were a few hundred. This scene was a reasonably long one, but I spend nearly all of it at the back of the stage, pretending to be at a ‘sophisticated drinks party’.

The background to the play is about some kind of corporate double-crossing that is never really explained, so all of the characters are related in some way to the business involved. In my opinion, the overall story, which had been written by Sarah, was a bit crap. It’s no ‘The Big Short’ or ‘Margin Call’; movies that I had both found really interested as part of my Economics studies. There won’t be any screenwriting awards coming our way, and some of the established members of the drama club had wanted to perform a recognised play, which Sarah had taken quite personally.

In my role as Lucy, I am a personal assistant to a member of the businesses executive team. I only do some work associated with that role in my second scene. That’s a scene for which I’ll be on stage for less than a minute, which I thought was a waste of time. Another character is my brother, who is a senior guy in another division of the company. My Mum, played by Adam, is a bigger character in the play than me, and is one of only a couple of characters that weren’t employees. Her link, however, is through my brother, not me.

The scene had been going on for a while, with three characters engaging with dialogue at the front of the screen, with some of these text messages popping up on screen, as the characters pretended to read them. At the back of the stage, I was laughing, joking, gossiping and generally socialising with other work colleagues.

My three lines of dialogue in this scene are when the character Simon Middleton, the leading role, played by Matt Parker, first says hello and asks how I am, then casually tries to get some confidential information out of me, and finally offers to buy me a drink. My character, Lucy, accepts the drink, and the two characters exit the stage to the bar. All pretty mundane stuff, except for me using my female voice for the first time. I’d not done that in the other rehearsals, at Sarah’s request. She had, however, heard what I had been practicing.

I headed back to the holding area immediately after, the only actor doing so at this point. I went to the adjacent room that Sarah had made available for me. My next scene would be the morning after, at work. The change was quite simple, and there was no rush. All I need to do was step out of the dress, and into the skirt, and then put on a blouse. I didn’t even need to remove my shoes for this change. I had a quick play on my phone, double-checked both my lines for the next scene, and started to remove my dress.

“We’ve had a fuse blow, there will be a short del…” stopped Sarah, after walking into the room.

“Sarah, close the door!” I cried, embarrassed that I’d been burst in on, just as I was putting on the skirt. Sarah finding me in just bra and knickers, and my high-heeled shoes.

“Yes. Yes. Sorry! I should have knocked.” Sarah stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

“I meant with you on the outside.” I said flatly, holding the skirt up to my body, to cover as much of myself as possible.

Sarah leant back onto the door. “It’s okay, Sam. I’d see more on the beach. I’ll stay here, to stop anyone else coming in.”

“Not the kind of beaches I go,” I thought to myself. I didn’t know what to do. So, I just continued to get dressed into the blouse and skirt.

“Looking good, Sam”, smiled Sarah. “You can tell me later what you’re using for those boobies. I’ll need to go now, and check on the power that the caretaker was looking at.”

I nodded. I was really thinking that I wished she had gone ages ago. I wished she had not burst in at all.

I went into the other holding room, to another mild degree of teasing. I thought that the guys will have likely had their fun by now, and the difference between a dress and a skirt doesn’t really warrant it all kicking off again. It’s not as if they had seen me in my underwear! I decided to lock the door from the inside, for the next change.

We didn’t need to wait long until the runner returned after the lighting was back up and running, and some of us were heading to the backstage area. I was immediately out front on stage, for the start of the next scene, with the opening line.

“Good morning, Mr Middleton. Mr Jones is ready to see you”, as I gesture for Matt Parker to follow me into a meeting he had scheduled with my boss.

Matt Parker gave a slight smile that I don’t recall him doing in any of the previous run-throughs.

“Great to see you again, Lucy. Lovely to bump into you last night,” he said.

“Yes, Mr Middleton. Can I get you anything to drink?” I reply.

“No thanks, Lucy. Speak soon,” he smiles, patting me on the backside as I walk away.

I leave the scene, walking the full width of the stage, remembering the ‘wiggly strut’ that Sarah had asked for, after the previous rehearsal. I have no idea if I gave her what she wanted, as she had previously said she was unable to tell in my school trousers.

Again, I went straight back to the holding area. Remembering to lock the door behind me, this time. I would now have my longest wait between scenes, but decided to change my costume immediately.

This time, I needed to remove my sandals. After that, the skirt came off, replaced by some denim jeans. I thought the outfit looked fine with the blouse. I’ve seen girls tie their blouses, to show their bellies. Perhaps I should have suggested that, to reduce the amount of clothing I had to worry about. Too late for that, so I slipped on the black vest top and returned my shoes. There was an over-shirt that looked like some kind of fake leather that went with this costume, but it was too warm to put this on, so I just carried that with me back into the main room.

“Hey Sam, how’s it going so far?” asked Martin, as I took a seat next to him, crossing my legs and putting my hands in my lap.

“Okay, I think. I’ve remembered all five of my lines so far,” I joked.

“You’re keeping with the girlie voice? You don’t need to, off stage, do you” Martin asked

“I’d not really thought about it. Yeah, I think I will. Keep me in character, I suppose.”

Smiling, Martin went on “And doing a pretty good job of adding a bit of eye candy, by all accounts.”

“Ha! What do you mean? The clothes?”

“Well, I was side-stage when you exited just before the meeting scene. I think you have caused some strained trousers, and a few confused lads. Who knows, maybe some sticky messes” said Martin, laughing.

I frowned “Yeuch! That’s sick, not funny. Don’t be so disgusting! I feel sick enough with worry, already.”

Martin continued his smile, “I’m just saying.”

Deciding to tease Martin, putting a hand on his knee, “Unless there’s something you want to tell me? I’m not confusing you, am I?” tilting my head, and batting my false eyelashes at him.

We both burst out laughing. Thankfully.

After what felt like ages, the runner returned for what would be my final scene, and me done for the day. Again, I was out on stage for the start of this scene, which was set in another bar, but this time, not on a work event. The script background didn’t detail it, but my character was just out for drinks in the city with some friends. The start of the scene, for anyone who hasn’t been following the text messages and ever so subtle clues, will be completely confusing. There is a lot that has not happened directly through the actors on stage.

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Simon Middleton

“Hey Simon! How are you doing?” I replied, with a smile.

“What’s this? No ‘Mr Middleton’? He queried, “Standards are slipping around here,” he smiled

“Ha. Well, that’s just a sign of the times, I guess. I have missed you.”

“Me too. Come here”, as Simon kisses me

It’s not Matt Parker, it’s Simon Middleton, I say in my head. I am acting. I just get it out of the way. There’s a strange look on Simon’s face, as the kiss breaks. Or was that Matt’s face.

“I’m out with girlfriends until about 11. Will I see you later?” I ask Simon, as some of his friends head over to the area of the bar we are stood in.

“At your place?” Simon asks.

“Yes. See you later.” I walk off stage.

“Who’s that? I recognise her,” says one of Simon’s friends.

“Sam. Sam Walker. Richard’s little sister. Hey? If I’m screwing over the brother, I may as well be fucking the sister!” Simon replies, as he and all his friends burst out in laughter.

After exiting the stage, I went and sat where the audience would be. No point in going back to the holding area, I wasn’t going to get any further calls.

As the scene is resetting, Sarah called over to me, “We’re going to redo the office scene, start to end.”

“Okay,” I say, with a smile. “Did I mess something up?”

“Oh no, the screw-up came later, after you’d left stage. We’re doing it from the top though” Sarah fed back, to my relief

“You will need to put your skirt back on though. It’s up to you if you wear the blouse; the vest looks really nice. That little pat of your bum, and Simon Middleton watching you wiggle off, is a key part of the back-story development. Good idea sticking with the voice, by the way, all helps with staying in character.”

“Okay” I said, not realising that I’d kept the girlie voice, getting up to head back to the holding area, to put the skirt on. Leaving the over-shirt that I’d not used, on the back of the chair I had briefly sat down on.

I took off my jeans, slipped out of my jeans, stepped into the skirt, and put my shoes back on. Within five minutes, I was heading back to the assembly hall. As I entered, the play was in full flight, so I carefully headed towards an empty seat, hoping to cause minimal distraction to the cast. Sarah caught my eye with a hand wave, and beckoned me to sit next her.

Leaning towards me sat next to her, she placed her hand on my thigh to steady herself. “You’ve done brilliantly, Sam. I’m so proud of you, and so beautiful,” she whispered into my ear.

“Thanks,” I replied with a soft smile. Quickly returning my attention to the stage.

There wasn’t much more of the play to run through, which all went without a hitch. People were in the right places at the right times, as far as I knew everyone remembered their lines. The only scene that Sarah wanted us to go through again was the one that had the office meeting between my boss and Simon Middleton. Although I was told it wasn’t anything I had done that necessitated running it through again, I still felt guilty that I was part of the only scene that needed to be redone.

I got my part out of the way, and the rest of the scene went perfectly. I was grateful it wasn’t the kiss scene that I would have to do again, especially as much of the cast are now in the audience.

“Much better!” cried Sarah. “Okay, everyone, gather around! Come on!”

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and congregated in front of the stage.

“Well done, boys. I think you should give yourselves a round of applause,” she said, and started clapping, which everyone else then joined in with.

“The errors we had were small, but I thought it important to iron those out. And, when we went over those again, they were perfect. I am so confident that we’re going to do brilliantly at next week’s final rehearsal, ahead of our first live performance,” she went on, many of the boys nodding. “I’ll speak to the maintenance team to understand what went on with the lighting fuse, and how we can avoid that happening again. I will say, however, you all dealt with that brilliantly though, both those on stage and in the crew,” I felt like Sarah was looking at me.
“I understand many of you are going to the pub later? It’s great you’re feeling like such a team, and I definitely see that with how you’re all working together. As soon as we’re tidied away, feel free to head off. Thanks boys,” Sarah added, initiating another round of applause.

“Excuse me. Sarah. Have you seen that key you gave me earlier?” I asked

Sarah looked confused, “Not since I gave it to you earlier. Why? Have you lost it?”

“I don’t think so. I left it in the keyhole, after locking it from the inside, to stop, erm…” I paused.

“Yes, to stop anyone else bursting in. Sorry again about that,” said Sarah, picking up my pause.

“Well, the room is now locked. With my other costumes in there,” I went on.

“Oh,” said Sarah, “just your costumes? Your change of clothes is still in the gymnasium?”

“Yes, Sarah.”

Sarah thought for one moment, “Well, why don’t you just leave your costumes in there for now? You can go and get changed, and pick up your stuff tomorrow, when we figure out who locked the room. It’s late now, and I am sure everyone has other places to be.”

I agreed with her suggested plan, and headed off towards the gymnasium. I started a mini panic, when I realised that door was also locked, and I started to rush back towards the main assembly hall. My heels clacking on the wooden floor like a pair of castanets. All of my boy clothes, my sisters make up and makeup remover, and her robe were in there; as was my school bag where I had stored my wallet and keys. All I had with me was my mobile phone, and what I was wearing; the black vest top, black skirt, black strappy heels and the black over-shirt that I hoped was still on the chair I had left it, in the assembly hall.

“Aren’t you going the wrong way?” asked Adam, who I was rapidly approaching. “Changing rooms are this way,” pointing in the direction he was heading.

“They’re locked,” I said in panic. “I’m going to get Ms Greenwood.”

Adam looked confused, “What’s she going to do? Kick the door down?” he laughed, to himself

“No. Don’t be stupid. She’ll be able to get the caretaker to open it. I saw him down here earlier, and I reckon he’s locked the door. I reckon he’s locked a few doors.”

Adam paused, as if he were thinking about his options. I’d always considered him a smart guy, always in the top sets at school, and gets good grades. I hoped he’d come up with something good. I was to be left disappointed.

“Right. I’m going home. I’ll get my stuff back tomorrow. See ya!” as he turned, and started to head off.

I was left open-mouthed. “Are you not going to the pub?” Immediately realising that really wasn’t the most pressing question to be asking, right now. “How are you getting home, dressed like that?” I realised I was still using my girlie-voice, and heard myself getting even more high pitched.

“Calm down, Sam. It’ll be fine,” said Adam, genuinely trying to reassure me. “My Mum’s already waiting for me in the car park, to give me a lift home. I wasn’t going to the pub. It’s my Dad’s birthday, and we’re going out for a family meal.”

Adam could tell I was still worrying, “My Mum would happily give you a lift home. If you wanted?”

I smiled at Adam. “Thanks. That’s really appreciated.” I was starting to think a bit more clearly. I realised leaving my things here would cause further problems tonight and tomorrow, and convinced myself that I’d just ask Sarah to ask the caretaker to unlock the gymnasium. He lives on site, and I think it’s part of his job to be on call all the time. “I think I’ll be okay, Adam. Thanks again, mate.”

Adam and I both headed back in the direction of the assembly hall; him turning left out of the school’s main entrance way, me turning right into the assembly hall.

“Do you know where Ms Greenwood is?” I asked a group of three of my friends, after scanning what was now a mostly empty space.

“Backstage,” answered Mike, getting back to playing on his phone.

After a smile of thanks he did not see, I walked up towards the stage, up the left hand stairs, and behind the curtain, where I could only see Ian, putting some things away. “Do you know where Ms Greenwood is?” I asked him

Ian paused from what he was doing, “Sup? She got a message that her dog was sick, or something, and has gone home. I’m just finishing off; she said we shouldn’t be here without her.”

“Shit!” I thought to myself, rushing on my heels back onto the stage, down the stairs, out of the assembly hall and through the door that Adam had just exited by. He had already gone. “Shit!”

“Shit! Shit!” I said out loud, trying to decide what to do next. I thought that I’d just have to bypass Sarah. If she was unable to ask the caretaker to unlock the gymnasium on my behalf, I’d just have to ask him directly. His small house was just the other side of the staff car park, so I headed off.

“Oh. You again?” he said, answering the door. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve had some of my things locked in the gymnasium changing rooms, would you be able to unlock them? Or, can I borrow the key, to do it myself? I’ll have it back to you in five minutes.”

He scowled at me, “If you think it’s my job to do what every random stranger knocking on my door asks - whether they’re the girlfriend of a teacher, or not - you are mistaken. Goodnight.” Closing the door and leaving me stunned. I had not followed all of that, apart from the fact he wasn’t going to help.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I declared again, heading back towards my three friends in the assembly hall.

“What’s up?” asked Mike, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He sounded genuine concerned.

I explained that all my stuff was locked in the gymnasium, and that I can’t get it unlocked. That I have just missed out on the chance of a lift home, and there’s no one home that can come and collect me. “Did any of you drive to school today?” They all shook their heads.

I was still thinking hard, “Have any of you got any spare clothes with you? I mean, from either your costumes or your school uniforms?” All three of them shook their heads.

“Not that I think will help,” said Chris. “I mean, I have a spare blazer and a tie. I was just wearing my school trousers and part of my ‘business suit’ costume.” The others nodded, indicating they were in the same position.

“You lazy sods!” I managed to joke, but with only a half-smile. “You got off very lightly!”

“What am I going to do?” I asked, to no one in particular.

“There might be something in lost property?” suggested Mike.

“Lost property?” I frowned.

“Yeah,” said Mike, smiling proudly that he’d found the solution. “I’ve borrowed sports kit from there.”

“Lost property in the gymnasium? That if I could reach, I wouldn’t even have this problem?” I pointed out

“Ah. Yeah. Sorry,” Mike’s pride suddenly falling.

“Taxi? I’ll lend you some cash.” “Call one of our parents for a lift?” “Get in touch with Ms Greenwood and guilt her into coming back?” were some of the perfectly reasonable suggestions the three called out.

“Thanks. But, I’m not sure I’m comfortable waiting here alone for half an hour or so, waiting for any one of those things,” I actually felt like I was about to cry.

Mike looked confused. “Why would you be on your own? We’d wait with you. Wouldn’t we?” he looked around and saw Martin and Chris both nodding.

“Well, aren’t you going to the pub? At 7pm? Which is like…” I looked at my phone, “… five minutes ago.”

“That doesn’t matter. We’ll be late,” said Chris, “Okay, we’ll be more late. Later.”

“Or,” said Mike, “We just go to the pub as we are?”

“You’re really not helping now,” I said to Mike.

“Actually, Sam, I guess we could,” Martin challenged. “Think about it. It won’t be too busy, most of the folks there will our cast and crew. I don’t think anyone’s going to see you, that hasn’t already, except James.”

“You want to swap clothes, Martin? Then you can be the one he rips the piss out of. You think about it!” I suggested

“Look,” Martin went on, “You can wear that rubbery black shirt over your vest, we can walk down there, you can remove your wig and wash the makeup off your face in the disabled toilet, and if you hide your legs under a table, no one will be any the wiser. You can then wait like that until a taxi can pick you up, or your Mum is back from work. It’s really not a disaster!”

Against my better judgement, I agreed. The plan being as Martin had suggested. I’ll never live this down.

The four of us walked into the pub. It was, as hoped for, not very busy, at least not indoors. Most of the drama club had decided to sit in the still-warm beer garden, and I decided that I’d prefer not to see too many of them, and explain over-and-over why I was still in costume. I scanned the main bar area, quickly spotting James sat on his own; I headed directly for him. I glanced back over my shoulder, and saw Chris and Mike heading to the beer garden - to no doubt have a cigarette - with only Martin following me.

James’s face lit into a broad smile, as he slowly recognised who was walking towards him, albeit looking like he had never seen me look before. I gave him a warm smile, immediately feeling more at ease with things.

I carefully lowered myself to sit across from James, taking great care to keep my knees together. “I’m suffering from a bit of wardrobe malfunction. I assure you, this isn’t by choice.”

“Well,” James continued to smile, “I wonder how good you’d look, if it were not an accident?”

I felt my cheeks flush, “Oh, please! This is my costume, one of my costumes, a hybrid of two of my costumes. It’s so embarrassing!” I managed to laugh.

“I can see you’re okay, James,” Martin said, “Sam? The usual?” asking if I wanted a drink.

“Yes, please. A large one, thanks,” I said to Martin, before pointing out to James that I did not have any cash.

“So?” James said, “Why the voice?”

I felt myself turn red again, which James clearly spotted. “I mean, you sound good. It suits how you look. You look great, by the way.”

I smiled at the compliment. “I hadn’t realised I was still doing it. I’ve been speaking this way for a couple of hours, and was starting to feel normal. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry, if I made you feel uncomfortable. As I say, it suits you,” James gave me another reassuring smile, maintaining full eye contact. “And actually, it’s probably a good idea to keep it up, with you looking like that. I mean, for anyone overhearing us.”

Martin returned with the drinks, placing my glass of wine on the low-level table that the three of us now sat around, “Are you still slipping off to the disabled loos?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t think I will, now that I’m here.” I said, not feeling as uncomfortable as I had expected.

“What’s this?” asked James

Martin went to say something, but I got in there first, “It doesn’t matter, just something we talked about earlier.” We carried on chatting, with James keen to catch-up on what had been going on.

After about thirty minutes, Martin excused himself.

“I think he’s seen that girl he has been trying to chat up. He’s been meerkatting for the last five minutes,” said James, making me laugh. “You know her, don’t you? The one that works in the petrol station that’s about three promotions out of his league? Do you want another drink?”

“Yes, Stacy, she went to my primary school. You’d think he’d have given up by now; I don’t think she knows Martin exists. And yes, please. Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“There you go,” said James, as he placed a large glass of Rioja on the table. “Always thought it looked odd when we were out, you on the wine and the rest of us drinking beer; kind of suits you now though,” he added, with a warm smile.

“Cheers, mate,” I thanked for the drink, and ignored the new addition to a long-standing regular comment about my choice of drink, as James took his seat, still holding his pint.

“You’ve tied your hair back? Something looks different,” queried James.

“Yeah, I had a spare elastic band. It was starting to annoy me, as it’s quite warm in here. I wanted it off my shoulders,” I advised. “I’ve pulled it too tight though, it’s already giving me a headache.”

I released my hair again. Teasing off the hair band, then leaning my head forward, using my arm to flick my hair back over my shoulder. I also considered taking off the black over-shirt. I was, however, quite self conscious about how small the vest top was, and how much of my skin it left exposed. I was, however, starting to get extremely warm, in the non air-conditioned pub, that the sun had heated up throughout the day. Despite this, I left it on.

“I see. So, do you enjoy all of this?” he asked, gesturing towards me. His upturned hand slowly moving up and down, outlining my profile.

“This?” I clarified. Pointing towards myself, and specifically my outfit. Surprised that he wanted to go there.

James gave a small nod as he took a sip of his beer, looking upwards over the top of the glass, to maintain eye contact.

I adjusted myself to sit upright, my back losing contact with the chair, shifting my bum a tiny bit closer to the edge of the seat, ensuring I kept my bare, smooth legs tightly together. “Well, it’ll probably surprise you as much as it did me, but yes, I think I do. Yes, I do. Quite a bit, actually.”

“Not my idea of fun.” Replied James, in a very matter of fact way.

“Ha. I’m definitely not going to say it’s a case of ‘don’t knock it until you’ve tried it’. I agree, it’s probably not for you.” I said with a smile.

“Oh, no?” wondered James. “Why do you say that?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer.

Was he really looking for a reason, or was he just teasing me? Was he trying to let me know something really important? “Well, it’d probably be more difficult given you’re like, what, six four? And built like the proverbial” I offered as a starter, not having had the chance to fully reflect on the potential depth to the question.

James looked a bit confused, furrowing his brow. He went to say something, but paused as the barman stopped at our table to collect the empty glasses from our first round of drinks.

“Oh... I forgot what I was going to say. Oh well. Anyway, what is it that you enjoy about it?” He recovered, surprising me with his level of interest.

“Oh, erm, I don’t know. It’s all of it together, I guess. Don’t think it’s just one thing. The clothes, high heels, the hair, makeup... feeling, well, pretty, and having the opportunity to be, I don’t know... girlie. Hmm, that sounded really gay, didn’t it?” I took a breath and smiled a nervous smile, surprised that I’d admitted this to myself, let alone anyone else. I smoothed my already smoothed skirt, put my hands and phone together in my lap, and anxiously awaited James response.

“Oh. Well, erm, that doesn’t matter at all, does it? As long as you’re happy, and it’s not hurting anyone else,” he immediately reassured. “But, erm, Sam, whilst that’s, erm, all interesting. That wasn’t what I was asking. I meant enjoying the play, not the, erm, dressing as a girl.”

“Oh my god. What have I done?” I thought to myself. Alarms were going off in my brain, “Rewind! Rewind!”

My hands, still half holding my phone, rushed to cover my mouth. Preventing any more comments leaking out was one thing, wishing that they could drag back in the revelation that I have allowed to escape was the other. My stomach turned over.

“James.” I managed to get out after lowering my hands, and putting down my phone. Not yet knowing what words were going to follow.

“You’d believe me, if I said I was joking. Right?” I asked, with a panicked half-smile.

James leant forwards across the knee-height table, and smiled sympathetically. “Sam. It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he said, whilst placing his large hand on my knee, before he leant back after a slight squeeze.

Still using his smile to reassure me he meant what he said. “Oh, and it’s six foot four and a half,” he added with a cheeky wink.

“Oh god. How embarrassing.” I couldn’t think of anything helpful to say, so just said how I felt.

“And the play? The drama club? Are you enjoying that?” He asked. It would appear trying to erase the last few moments, to get the conversation back on its previous track. “Actually,” he corrected himself, “that can wait; I need to tell you something.”

“Please don’t,” I thought to myself, concerned that my openness has triggered the floodgates to the sharing of some deep, dark secrets.

“Oh, yeah?” I queried, feeling guilty for not really encouraging my friend to say what he thought.

“I don’t think I would have asked you the question you thought I was asking” James went on.

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, my hands still planted in my lap, “Would you not?”

“No. Not just because, well, even after being mates for, what, almost six years, I’m not sure either of us would be confident enough to have that chat. And not because I don’t care. I do.”

Six years? I remembered the first time we met, in the first week at high school, aged 11. At our first afternoon games session, as one of only five boys out of about 100 that had ever played rugby before, we immediately became mates - making fun of the mistakes made by others who had only ever played football at their junior schools. Sporting successes and failures, first girlfriends and first kisses, getting into all sorts of trouble; all the things we’d experienced flashed in front of me in an instant, and I was left feeling that “I’ve put this all at risk. He will never see me the same way ever again. He must think I’m a freak. He won’t want to be friends any longer.”

I wanted to run. If I couldn’t turn back the clock, that seemed the second best choice. My mind had to wrestle, to stop my legs from making a break for the nearest exit door.

James paused, trying to find the words.

“No, none of that. I wouldn’t have asked, because I think I already knew the answer.”

“You did, eh? How so?” I asked through a frown.

“Okay. It’s simple. I’ve never seen you look happier within yourself than you have since you walked in tonight. I mean, you’re clearly a bit on edge, but you still look more comfortable in your own skin than I’ve known. It suits you.” He explained.

“I guess it doesn’t matter if you think you knew, or not. I’ve confirmed it for you.” After feeling so embarrassed and ashamed, I was looking to score some points; regardless of how meaningless. “But, it could have been finding that I enjoyed acting that was making me happy, the rehearsal could have gone well or perhaps I could have been acting a role of being happy. It’s not so simple, smartie pants.”

“Sam”, James replied, in a very self-assured tone, “I’m not talking about ‘being happy’. Scoring a try can make you happy, getting a good grade can. I guess you’re happy when you find a nice Rioja. No, you’re exuding happiness. Sam, you’re practically glowing. Unless you’re going to tell me you’ve got a new girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend?”

“Are you taking the piss?” I asked, incredulously, edging forwards again in my seat.

“It’s not that incredible, is it? You’re sat there, looking stunningly beautiful, an absolute ten out of ten, telling me you’re enjoying being dressed as a girl. Look, if you were gay, that’s totally cool.” He reassured.

I felt my face go red. Being told I was beautiful was a strange feeling, whether it’s by your best mate or not. It wasn’t, however, an unpleasant feeling.

“I’m not. I don’t think I am, anyway. This has all been pretty confusing though. All sorts of strange, I suppose ‘girlie’ thoughts have been coming into my head over the past couple of weeks. Just yesterday, I found myself looking at a fit girl from St Joe’s in town, and I was wondering if her skirt would suit me. Nothing though about men in, you know, that way. Other than kissing Parker.”

“You what?” Said James in shock

“Ha ha! What, jealous? Ha ha! Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” James wasn’t laughing. “In the play, Parker has to kiss me. You’ve been there when Chris and Martin were mocking me about that.”

“Like a proper kiss?” James asked

“I knew you were never listening. Well, it’s a pretend proper kiss. It’s meant to look like a full on kiss, but it’s just acting - a stage kiss.”

James wasn’t convinced. “Why are they putting on a play in an all-boys school that needs sexy female characters and snogging? That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Sexy? Who exactly is digging the bigger whole for themselves here?” I teased. “But, I don’t know. I’d not really thought about it.”

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Okay. But look, as I said, it’s all cool. You just do you, right? You deserve to be happy, after what you’ve been through. Anyway, we can’t spend all night talking about you - you’ve got a reputation for being boring to maintain! Nothing shared tonight changes that,” James teased with grin. “Did you speak to John earlier? He said you were perhaps changing your mind about not playing cricket this year.”

“Oh god, not this again.” I thought.

An hour, and another round of drinks later, we realised Martin hadn’t come back. In fact, he and everyone else we knew had left.

“I guess we should be making a move, too”, suggested James. “How are you getting home?”

“Hi James,” said a female voice from over my shoulder. It was Stacy, the girl from the petrol station, walking passed James, towards the ladies toilets.

I paused, expecting James to acknowledge, her, and maybe have a chat.

“Well?” asked James, “I guess you’re not driving,” completely failing to notice Stacy.

“My Mum said she’d pick me up. I’ll give her a call, and she can meet me at the side of McDonalds.” I answered.

“I’ve got the car. I’ll give you a lift. It’s not really out of my way.” Offered James, more telling than asking, despite his warm smile.

“Great, thanks. But only if you’re sure?” I felt it only fair to give him a get-out, as it is actually completely out of his way, it’s literally the other side of town. “But, are you okay to drive?” gesturing to the empty pint glass on the table.

“Yeah, no problem. And I’ve only had the two pints; my first drink was a Coke.”

It was still a light early summers evening when we left. It had gotten a bit cooler since we arrived, but not so much as to worry about having no coat. I carefully stepped down the pubs three-step flight of stairs, James waiting and watching me from the street level.

“Whoops!” I exclaimed, as my right heel caught slightly on the last step, causing my grounded left leg to buckle slightly, from the unexpected weight shift.

“No more wine for you,” James joked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” I was only embarrassed; it was just a slight stumble.

“Perhaps you need more practice in those things?” James said, gesturing at my feet.

“Yes, maybe.”

James hadn’t started walking away from the pub yet, and I didn’t know where his car was parked. So, I paused, once I’d steadied myself. It’s as if he was trying to remember himself, or thinking of something else.

“Milady, shall we?” surprising me, as he offered me his elbow.

I half laughed “Ha!” he didn’t withdraw him arm, even after I had acknowledged his apparent joke.
“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m not having you stumble all the way to the car.” He stated quite seriously, not realising my acquired level of competence in heels was better than this small incident had suggested.

“Okay.” I resigned, as I slipped my nailed hand through the loop made by James’s bare forearm. He led me off is the direction of his chosen car park, the inside of my wrists tickled by his hairy, muscular arm.

“Here we are,” James announced, as we approached the passenger side of his car, arms still linked. “Let me get the door for you.”

“James, I never knew you were so chivalrous. What a gentleman.” I teased.

“Ha. It’s not just that. The door can stick, and there’s a knack to it.”

James then stepped towards the car, as I releasing my hold on his arm, and heaved the door open.

“It looks like that ‘knack’ is underpinned by twice-weekly weight training.” I joked, in reference to James’s well known addiction to the gym, for which his body is an obvious sign of the investment.

“Four times a week in the close season. This level of body perfection takes work, Babe.” James face dropped. “Sorry mate, I meant mate. I’m usually chatting up girls in the gym when showing off the bod.”

I laughed, “It’s okay. And you mean ‘trying’ to chat up girls?”

James left the door open and walked around to the driver’s side. Having never lowered myself into a car wearing a short skirt - or any skirt for that matter - I took to opportunity to jump in, before I had an audience.

James got in, started up the car, and we headed off. After about two minutes, I was reminded that James’s car, in addition to only one working door, didn’t have any air conditioning. Whilst the heat of the day had passed, the car remained uncomfortably warm. When we stopped at a set of traffic lights, I quickly unbuckled my seat belt, and took off the black top that I was wearing over my vest-top. Much more comfortable, I thought.

“Thanks for tonight, James,” I said, after a short period of silence.

“No worries, it’s not far out of my way. He replied.

“No, not the lift. I mean, yes, thanks for that, but for everything else. For sitting with me, listening to me, for not laughing, and trying to understand. It’s really appreciated.”

“That’s cool. But for ‘sitting with you’? What does that mean? I’ve actually built some credibility in that pub, from sitting with the most beautiful girl in there, all night. I’ll be a legend!” He joked.

“James, you’re a prat.” We both laughed.

“Look,” said James, after another pause in the conversation, as we waited at set of traffic lights. “What you shared. Whether you wanted to share, or not. I need you to know you can trust that no one will hear that from me. Whilst I don’t think you have anything to hide, it’s totally your business”.

“Thank you, James, you’re a true friend.” I replied, placing my hand on his as it rested on the gear stick, to signal my genuine gratitude. James looked at my hand, and then across to me, and I looked back. Is he going to say something, I thought?

“Beep!” The car behind sounded his horn, to point out to James that the lights had changed. I quickly took my hand away from James’s and turned to look out of the front windscreen.

“Typical!” cried James, as he accelerated through the gears. “That has to be some sort of record. Getting friend-zoned by a beautiful woman within 3-hours of meeting her”, before he bursted out laughing.

“James, you are indeed a prat.”

The rest of the journey, all 10 minutes of it, was spent listening to the radio.

“Thanks for the lift, but can you let me out?” I asked, after pulling up on the road in front of my house, and being unable to open the door.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry,” as a flustered James exited the car and rushed around to my door.

“Ah. Bear with me,” I said to James, as he stood in the now open car doorway. “I’ve not done this before.” Navigating my way out of this low car, without flashing my panties was going to be a learning experience.

James understood what I was struggling to figure out. “No sweat. I’ve seen this on TV. Movie stars and singers get training for getting out onto red carpets, so as to avoid flashing their pants to the paparazzi,” input James. “Right. Keep your knees together. And swing your legs out onto the road. Twisting your, erm, bottom on the seat.”

The twisting caused my skirt to ride up, but not far enough to risk flashing my panties, I thought.

I followed his instructions. “Now what, coach? With my feet together, I don’t have a base to lift myself up from. My abs aren’t that strong! Do I climb out?” I teased, looking up, smiling towards James who now towered over me.

James improvised. “Come on,” he said, offering his upturned open hands, “Take my hands.”

I put my small hands into his, and gently gripping them he effortlessly lifted me out of the car. “Oh, thanks,” I uttered breathlessly; surprised at how easily I’d been raised.

“We’re still stood in the car’s open doorway. We’re still holding hands,” I thought to myself. It was one of those moments that felt like it was lasting forever. My hands, felt so small and dainty in James’s huge paws.

As I felt James grip soften, I tightened mine to keep him where he was stood. I raised myself onto my tiptoes, my heels losing contact with the pavement, and I leant into his body and gently kissed his cheek. “My hero. Thank you for tonight.”

James, with a strange grin, just stood there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school. Thanks again”, I say, turning towards the house, with my long blonde hair flying around like a horses tail. As I put the spare key from under the flower pot in the front door, I look around back toward the car. James was still stood there. He gave a brief wave, and I acknowledged back. “Why hasn’t he gone”, I thought, as I went through the front door.

“Well, hello you dirty stop out, what time do you call this?” called my sister from the kitchen, with line of sight to the front door.

“Hi Claire. Erm, nine forty-five”, looking at the clock on the wall. “You been back long?” Ignoring my sister’s teasing.

“I messaged you about 30 minutes ago, saying I was back. Guess you were too busy kissing your boyfriend goodnight. Giving him something to remember you by later, eh?” said Claire with a wicked grin, having now come to meet me in the hallway. “And who could blame him, you look beautiful,” as she embraced me for a hug.

“You saw that?” I asked. “It wasn’t that kind of kiss. I was just...”

“You’re so easy to wind up!” laughed Claire, interrupting me. “It’s almost no fun. And yes, I know, it wasn’t a kiss-kiss. You didn’t correct me to say he wasn’t your boyfriend though,” with a wink, trying to get a rise out of me again. “By the way he was looking at you though, I bet he would have wanted it to be ‘that kind’ of kiss?”

“I think I would have wanted that, too,” I said half under my breath, avoiding eye contact with my sister.

“Excuse me? Right! We need to talk. Upstairs, into your pyjamas, I’ll get the wine; we need a sister to sister chat.” Claire ordered.

“But I’ve got school tomorrow, and I’ve already had three glasses.” I argued

My big sister just shook her head. “Look here missy, some things are much more important than school. Get up stairs!”

“I don’t have any pyjamas. I don’t wear them; I’m neither seven nor seventy years old! Can’t I just keep this on, until going to bed?” I said, gesturing towards my current outfit?

“No. I don’t want you crying all over my clothes. And you need those as costumes, don’t you?” My sister replied.

“Why on earth would I cry? What are you going to do to me?” I queried in fake panic.

“Nothing. I hope you don’t. But trust someone who knows from experience, these girlie chats about boys often end that way.”

“Boy chats?”

“Yes, boy chats. Whether you like it, or not. That’s what we’re doing,” Claire reinforced. “You really do look beautiful by the way. Well done on your makeup, and maintaining it through the night. The adhesive on your boobies hasn’t lifted at all, which is good.”

“Thanks. I’m hearing that a lot - not the breast thing, the compliments. I think there’s a lot of piss taking going on.” I modestly answered.

“No, Sam, it won’t be that. And you’re going to have to deal with the pros and cons of looking hot. Trust me, you’re like, erm... the hottest girl that you’d see on a night out, like a model you see on Instagram promoting clothes from Pretty Little Thing, like, well, like me!” joked Claire, as we both burst out laughing.

“Oh, we had best keep the noise down. Mum went to bed about an hour ago with a migraine.” Claire suggested. “Anyway, pyjamas, black set in the second drawer from top in my dresser. I left them here last week. Slip into those, and come back down here. Oh, and keep your knickers on, I don’t want to see anything slipping out that a sister really should not see.”

“Like your brother dressed as a girl?” I asked.

“Away with you,” Claire instructed, waving me away with both hands.

“Is this the right set? I was expecting there to be more of it. They’re not that warm.” I asked my sister, who was now curled up on the lounge sofa, playing on her phone, whilst letting a bottle of wine breathe on the coffee table.

My sister looked up from her phone, and towards me in the doorway, “Yes, those are the ones. If you don’t like them, you can wear whatever you like, Sam. Grab one of your own tracksuits, if you’d prefer. Or, maybe try one of the other sets in my drawer or just grab a robe. I’m not forcing you to steal my clothes!” She said, her eyes returning to her phone.

“Okay, give me two minutes,” I said. “Get that wine poured!” almost skipping out of the room.

Well, the available robe wasn’t a warm one. Pretty, and felt nice to wear when I tried it on. Maybe one for some other time, if my sister left it here. There was a set of what I’d have called normal pyjamas, pink with a checked pattern. I slipped into those, leaving my bra and panties on.

Claire’s attention was again taken from her phone, as I stepped into the lounge, “Surprise, surprise... I see you didn’t choose your tracksuit. Is Goldilocks happy with her choice? Is it just right?” she asked, sarcastically.

I nodded, “They’re cute,” and sat at the other end of the large sofa to Claire, curling my legs underneath me. Not as uncomfortable as I expected it to be. Quite cosy, actually, as I gently stroked my hands on the on the soft feeling material gently wrapping my thighs.

“So glad we were able to meet the demands of Princess Sam. Anyway, how did the rehearsal go? Get ready okay? Remember your lines? Not fall over? Tell me what’s been going on.” Claire sat back, cupping her glass of wine, beckoning me to update her.

“So, sounds like it went well. Don’t know how it could have gone better. Apart from them not locking you out of the dressing rooms. I will admit, I’m surprised there wasn’t much teasing; boys today clearly need to upgrade their banter game, if you ask me!” Fed-back Claire, after I’d given her a thorough run through of how the rehearsal had gone.

“And that’s when it all went south; when we went to the pub after. I took some persuading to go, but once there shared some things I think I’d rather not have,” I added

“Let me guess? This involves your hunky chauffeur?” Claire asked.

I nodded, staring into my near empty wine glass.

“Only him?”

I nodded.

“Okay, and whilst I’m on a roll, you told him you were enjoying wearing girls clothes in the play?” said Claire, reaching for the wine bottle.

“Yep, and a bit more.” as I offered my wine glass to be refilled.

“Go on.”

I took a breath. “I accidentally told him I was enjoying it outside of the play, and not just the dressing up.”

“Thank god for that!” Claire exclaimed. “At least you’ve started to be honest with yourself. Whether you wanted others to know or not, that’s much less important.”

“What do you mean? You think you knew, like James claimed he did, too?” I asked, shocked and confused.

“Yes, of course I did! You silly sod. If you were as smart as you were pretty, you’d be dangerous! I mean, let’s look at it, and just ignore everything over the past three weeks for just one moment - that means ignore all the stuff about you wanting to try on practically my entire wardrobe, wanting to practice wearing heels at every opportunity, video calling me late at night for feedback on your makeup trials, not being happy with either the first or second options of how we filled your bra, going out and getting your ears pierced. Ignoring all of that, which is going far, far above and beyond what’s needed to be in a school play, why else would you now not be wearing your own tracksuit? Why else would you choose to be sat in that position? Why else would we be having this chat? To those that know you, you’re an open book, Sam. And it sounds like this guy knows you pretty well.” Said Claire

“I was trying to do a good job; I just really enjoyed it all.” I said, as if I was being called out on something I’d done wrong, despite Claire’s warm, reassuring smile. “And James said I looked happy, that’s how he knew.” I said, staring deep into my now full glass of wine.

Claire smiled wider, her eyes going shiny. “You have done. So happy. You deserve it, too.”

“That’s what he said.”
Claire’s smile grew wider. “I think I’m starting to like this guy. Tell me about him, this could have some legs,”

“Legs?” I asked through narrow eyes.

“He could be boyfriend material. So, what’s his name?”

“Boyfriend? I don’t want a boyfriend. I, erm, I... Claire, I’m so confused.”

I think the crying went on for at least five minutes. Crying and drinking wine, simultaneously.

When Claire released me from the extended hug and soothing back rubbing she held my hands in her lap, and we sat facing each other, legs crossed on the sofa. “Sam, your happiness is the only thing that matters here. No one’s going to make you do, say or think anything you don’t want. Sorry if it has felt like I was leading you. No one’s opinion here matters. You do, however, need to be honest with yourself. Okay? Life is too short, to not take all the chances we might have, to be happy.”

I dried my eyes with the sleeve of the pyjamas, “I’ll try. But stop trying to be so deep, I’ve had too much wine to appreciate it!”

“So, what’s this guy’s name?” Claire went on.

“James. James Howard.”

“Are you joking? ‘The’ James Howard? The big guy? I know him by reputation! If you wanted him, you’ve got a proper hottie there. Half my friends used to go to the gym, just to perve over him working out,” Claire joked, and we both half laughed

“And he’s a nice guy? Other than what I’ve heard tonight? Treats his girlfriends well? He’s had girlfriends, right?”

I paused, before answering, “Well, yes, to all of that. He’s been one of my best friends for years. I’m so worried he will now hate me.”

Claire smiled, “You’ve a lot to learn about men, Sam.” Before quickly adding, “If you want to, of course.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” I queried, doubting her expertise.

Claire grinned, “You think this guy could hate you, because of some things you’ve shared with him? Right?”

I nodded.

Claire went on “Well, not from what I saw this evening, I suspect. But, bear with me on this, just answer these questions, all about tonight. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Okay. Did James touch you in a way he’s never done before? Just casually, I mean. Nothing weird!”

After some thought, “I guess he touched my knee. But then, that doesn’t mean anything; I touched his hand.”

“Right. Did he look at you, in a way he hasn’t before?”

“Hmm, no, not really. I guess he was more smiley, but I think he was trying to put me at ease - unlike these questions! I also don’t suppose he’s watched me walk to the door before, after giving me a lift,” I offered. “Although, not sure if I’ve even turned to look before. Probably just checking I didn’t trip over, or something.”

“Okay. Did he fail to spot other things going on around him? I don’t know, erm, maybe didn’t hear his name being called, or something? You know, a bit distracted.”

“I don’t think so.” I said. “I suppose we both didn’t notice when Martin didn’t return to our table in the pub. But he’s so flaky, he comes and goes.”

“Right, okay. Any slips of the tongue that he may have been embarrassed about?”

“Ha!” I half-laughed, reminded of his slip of the tongue. “He accidentally called me ‘babe’, when making a joke. But he quickly corrected himself. Nothing apart from that, and that doesn’t really count, it was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Okay. Final one of these. Did he show any extra care for you, or look out for you in a way he hadn’t before? Perhaps other than the supportive things it sounds like he said?”

“Yeah, I suppose he did,” I fed back instantly. “He supported me with his arm, back to the car, from the pub, after I half slipped on the steps on the way out.”

Claire thought hard. “The door on the train station side? Ah, that last step has claimed many a heel. It claimed Louise’s front teeth, when we were in our last year at St. Joe’s! Where was he parked?” My sister asked, randomly, I thought.

“Clifton Street. Just before the bridge. Why?” I wondered.

“Doesn’t matter. But have I got this right? He walked you arm-in-arm all the way? Down the High Street, past the Kings Arms and the bus station? Still busy with people around there, at that time?” My sister continued her random questions.

“Yeah, there was a band playing at the Kings, the place was packed and loads of folks smoking out front. And I suppose he helped me out of the car. But, if he hasn’t done that, I’d have had to either crawl out, or I’d still be there!” I joked, trying to ease what had become a noticeably more tense atmosphere.

“I’m getting another bottle of wine.” Said my sister, as she got up off the sofa, and headed to the kitchen.

“Sam?” she asked, as she topped up my glass on her return. “What do you think these actions could all mean?”

“Easy. Having thought about Claire’s questions, whilst she was away. That James is a really supportive friend. I told him as much.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, it sounds like he could be. How did he react, when you told him that’s what he was to you?”

“I can’t remember,” I lied to Claire, thinking his joke answer could be misunderstood. She was not there.

“Okay. Bear with me again. From what I saw and what you’ve told me, I think there’s a possibility James might have some feelings for you. My best guess? He’s fallen head over heels!” My sister surmised. “Now, I wasn’t there to see it for myself, but a guy behaving like that is sending some pretty strong signals; it may as well be written in a letter!”

I was left open mouthed. “Don’t be so silly! He’s not, you know, like that. He’s known me for years, I mean, we’ve double dated, for Christ’s sake! All that has happened tonight is I’ve shared somethings I didn’t mean to, whilst looking very differently to how he’s seen me before. I don’t know why you’re trying to make out he, what, fancies me?”

My sister doubled down, “If ‘looking differently’ means presenting as a beautiful woman, we’re on the same page. I can help find out for sure how he feels, that’s what big sisters are for. We don’t have to guess. What we do need to decide, is what we would do, if I was right.”

“How do you mean?” I was intrigued

Claire smiled. “Simple. If there was the tall, handsome, fit, charming, kind, supportive beefcake that was head over heels into you... is that worth exploring?”

“Exploring?”

“Okay, okay. From what I saw through the window, when you pulled up,” my sister paused for my acknowledgement, “if James had helped you up out of the car, into his arms, and kissed you passionately, would you have kissed him back?”

From how warm I felt, I could only guess as to what deep shade of red I had gone.

I took a deep breath, “Yes” I said quietly, returning to staring at my wine glass.

My sister gave an encouraging smile, “Okay. And your teasing or joking peck on the cheek, was that intended to encourage him to initiate something more?”

“Yes. I think it was. Yes.” as I turned to make eye contact with my sister.

Still smiling, my sister went on, “Well done. I know this isn’t easy, but I’m so proud of your honesty.”

I half smiled, “Proud of your sissy of a little brother?”

“Hell yes! And my beautiful little sister.” As Claire topped up my glass of wine.

“If you found that embarrassing, brace yourself”, she went on with a wink and lingering cheeky grin. “You need to picture this in your mind. Okay? Let’s assume you shared that passionate kiss by the car, you running your hands through his hair and linking them around the back of his neck, him holding you close, stroking your hips and squeezing your arse, he scoops you up and carries you into an empty house. You go upstairs, he strips naked, to expose his...”

“Woah! What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sam, I was just trying to see if the thought of his hard cock repulsed or exited you. Because, let’s face it, men typically expect a bit more from their girlfriends than a kiss.” Claire went on.

I was so warm, “It doesn’t repulse me to think of it” I said quietly, feeling totally ashamed of myself, looking down into my lap. “When I lent in to kiss his cheek, after getting out of the car, it felt like he had a hard-on. I wan..” I stopped myself.

“Go on. What? What did you want to say?” encouraged Claire.

I took a deep breath. “I wanted to touch it, I felt kind of proud that I may have caused it,” I said at double speed, before grabbing my wine glass.

Claire smiled cheekily.

“Beep! Beep!” as I received a WhatsApp message.

“It’s James!” I said almost in fear to my sister; had he heard me? I panicked.

My sister gestured to my phone, encouraging me to pass it to her.

“Glad you made it to the house without me ;) I enjoyed tonight. See you tomorrow x” she read out, before scrolling through other messages.

“Interesting,” she said, “he’s never put an ‘x’ at the end of his previous messages.” As she passed me my phone back, grinning.

I started to type a reply.

“Woah! Hold your horses. This needs careful game management,” said Claire. “Type this... ‘Me too. Night.’ And put two large X’s at the end.”

I sent the message.

“And, the significance of that?” I asked

“Well, you’re not saying which of his two statements ‘me too’ is referring to. He’ll read that over and over, wondering if you’re also glad you made it to the house, or if you also enjoyed the evening. Saying goodnight gives you control of the conversation. And if he replies with anything less than two large kisses, I’ll... ah, there’s no point in finishing that, it’s a certainty!”

Almost as soon as Claire stopped talking, another message came through.

“Glad to hear it :) Goodnight XXX”

I smiled at the screen, and then peered over top of the screen, to look at Claire.

“Hand it here,” she instructed, offering out a stretched arm. Claire read the message to herself, then shut down my phone and put it on her side table. “Am I fucking amazing, or what? They can stick their grade C psychology A-level up their backsides; I should be writing the textbooks!”

“You’re definitely something!” I teased. “Can you pass me my phone?

“No. You’re not getting this back until morning.” She advised.

“You what?” I asked

“I’m not having you undoing all my good work, and sending a silly message. Done too often, and after less wine than we’ve had. Speaking of which...” as Claire emptied the last drops of wine from the bottle into my glass. “Oh. I’ll get another,” as she went off to the kitchen.

I sat and contemplated what had happened this evening. I couldn’t concentrate. I just smiled, but still felt anxious, or perhaps it was just excitement.

“What are you grinning at?” asked my sister as she returned with two glasses of what looked like Coke. “You look pretty pleased with yourself.”

“Still confused, more than anything. And where’s the wine?” I replied

Claire passed me the cold glass, “All gone. And that was the wine I bought for Mum, to replace what Louise and I wiped out the other week. That’s a rum and Coke.”

I sipped the cold drink, and was shocked by its strength. “Any Coke in this?” I asked sarcastically. “I’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Oh, man up!” Claire teased. “And how about you give school a miss tomorrow? Throw a sickie.”

“I won’t have to throw a sickie at this rate. Are you around?” I asked

Claire nodded.

“So, what would we do?” I followed up.

“I don’t know,” said Claire. “We’ll come up with something. Oh, I’ve just reminded myself, Louise is arranging a night out in Manchester this weekend; now you’re not tied up with sports, want to come?”

“Manchester? Didn’t she go to uni in Leeds?” I asked.

“No. You might be thinking of Louisa. However, we don’t talk about her any more. Don’t ask, it’s a long story. So, you up for a night out? I’m not forcing you, but I’ve a hotel booked; I could change it to a twin? It’s just a few bars, few cocktails. Maybe a dance. Fancy it?”

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” I asked

“Sure,” said Claire. “Got a better offer? Or perhaps waiting to see if one comes through from lover boy?” she paused. “Ha ha!” She continued. “I’ve never seen anyone turn red so quickly. We still have lots of work to do, don’t we?”

I half nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m really struggling to get my head around how I feel and also what it means. The alcohol probably isn’t helping me think straight, either.”

Claire shook her head. “As long as you’re not slurring your words, the drink can’t be hurting too much. Apart from your liver. All of us take time to come to terms with our feelings, but what exactly are you struggling with right now?”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m guessing you realise this, but I don’t think I ‘am’ a girl. I don’t think that, how do they say it, I’m a girl in a boy’s body. Right?”

Claire nodded, “I’ve not assumed you’re a transsexual, that’s right. It’s only been three weeks since I assume these new feelings started to emerge to you, so do keep your mind open though. Remember those chances at happiness, yeah? So, what’s the problem?”

“The bit I can’t wrap my head, is what I would be, if, you know, if some of the things you have assumed came to be.” I told my sister.

It was my sister’s turn to look confused. “Really not sure I’m following you. Talk me through it.”

“Okay. So, you think that James suddenly fancies me, and vice versa. If you assume we dated, became a couple, or whatever, I don’t think he’d fancy me as a boy - which I would still be most of the time, like at school. I also can’t currently imagine myself being with a man, when I’m not presenting as a woman. I just don’t get how it would work. Would we kiss hello when I’m dressed as a girl, and fist bump at school? It’s all those sort of things I just don’t get.” I handed the baton to my sister, to fill in the gaps.

Claire frowned. “Erm, why does it matter? It sounds like you’re basically asking what would my ‘status’ be called. Let me summarise what I think I’ve heard... what do we call a boy that fancies boys when he’s dressed or presenting as a girl, and may or may not fancy boys when he’s dressed as a boy; and his relationship with another boy who may only fancy him when he’s presenting as a girl, or he might also fancy him as a boy too. Is that about it?”

“Erm, I think so.” I offered.

“Oh, that’s easy. That’s called being happy. Come on Sam, there’s nothing whatsoever to be gained by putting your feelings into someone else’s neat little pigeon holed boxes! You do what you need, to make yourself happy. Everything else, you do what we all do, and make it up as we go along!” Claire advised.

“Okay, okay!” I put my hands up in surrender. “I get all that. But, isn’t a bit, kind of, I don’t know, schizophrenic to engage with one person in two totally different ways?”

“No, not at all. Having different sides to your personality is not the same as having deconstructive and contradictory multiple personalities. And you know, lines get blurred. In your scenario, what does the boy have to do, to be considered in girl-mode in this relationship? Is a dress enough, or does it need makeup, too? Would high heels and a bit of makeup tick the box?” Claire was on a roll, and spotted I was confused. “See how ridiculous this all is? Happiness finds a way, Sam.”

“I get what you’re saying, I do.” I pleaded. “It’s just I’m playing over parts of my life in my head and can’t reconcile how they would work”.

“Well, that sounds like a bit of anxiety. You can’t worry about things that haven’t yet happened, and catastrophise them. Right, think of this - are you safe now?” Claire was pretty good at this, I thought.

“Yes, I suppose.” I replied

“No suppose about it. You are safe. That’s a fact. Of course, a plane could crash through the roof, the gas main could explode under the house, or all sorts of horrible things could happen. You can’t worry yourself with all those things that might, but probably won’t happen. You are safe now. That’s what I learnt from the counsellor I met with after Dad died. Love each day as well as you can, and only worry when you actually have something to worry about. Okay?”

Claire had taken Dads death a couple of years ago even worse than I had. She was very much a daddy’s girl, and things had gotten pretty dark for her at one point. I actually started to feel a bit selfish, worrying over what people would think of what clothes I was wearing, who I was holding hands with, or whatever I was doing. “Thank you Claire. I suppose it takes time?”

“It will. Baby steps. Anyway, I’ve run out of wisdom for one night, I’m off to bed.” As she lifted herself off the sofa, she leaned over and kissed me on top of the head. “Goodnight, Princess. I’m so proud of you, and believe me, Dad would be too.”

Before I could process what she has said, she was already heading upstairs.

“She’s taken my phone!” I thought to myself.

“Oh, so is that another robe I’ve lost? Have you still got the black pyjamas, too?” asked my sister, across the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “I assumed you’d slept in the pink ones from last night.”

“Good morning!” I said, much more brightly than I felt. “I got into bed with them on last night, and they were far too warm. And yeah, I slept in the black set, I’ve got them on underneath now.” I loosened the robe slightly, to display the strap of the black silk pyjamas underneath. I’d not returned them after trying them on last night. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Sam, if I minded all the clothes I’ve not seen returned over the past few weeks, we wouldn’t now be on speaking terms,” she smiled. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“How do you mean? Alcohol related feelings or feeling-feelings?” I asked

“Either. Both!”

I rubbed my head, “Well, I feel lousy. That was a lot of wine for me. I’d usually go onto the vodka and lemonades on a night out, after about four glasses of wine. I’d had three in the station, and how many bottles did we open?”

Claire thought for a moment, “No idea. Two or three, I guess? And feeling-feelings?”

“Better than my head! Have we got any coffee pods?” I smiled

“Yes, but only soya milk. Mum had the last of the semi-skimmed before she went to work.” Claire said, apologetically. “But, there is good news, I have Mum’s credit card. Girl, we’re going shopping!”

I smiled broadly, and then thought to ask, “Does she know you have it?”

“Yeah, I stole it,” she said sarcastically. “You are a dickhead, sometimes. Of course she knows. She agrees you need to stop pinching my clothes!” Claire laughed, and I joined in. “I need a shower, and get ready. I heard you in the shower, and you’re clearly already made up. I’ll be about half an hour.” Claire added, as she got up from the kitchen bar stools. “Nice job with your hair, by the way. You’re a quick learner.”

“Can I have my phone back now?” I asked, as she put her dirty mug in the dishwasher.

Claire thought, “Hmm, only if you promise not to message lover boy. Even if he messages you. I’m serious!” she stressed.

“Okay. Okay.” I promised, as she handed me my phone, that had been in her robe pocket.

“Thanks. And you can’t moan at me for stealing your clothes, when I know that’s Mum’s robe you’re wearing. You cheeky cow!” I joked.

“Erm, excuse me? Why exactly do you think, I’m wearing it?” As she fake punched me in the arm, “You’ve got all mine!” before heading upstairs.

It was just after 9.30am. I’d surprisingly woken up relatively early, considering how sorry for myself I was feeling. At least it was just a headache, and was lucky that I rarely felt nauseous after drinking a bit too much. I looked at my phone, and was a bit disappointed when I saw that James hadn’t messaged. I had a quiet word with myself about how silly thinking that was, and made myself a coffee. It would only take me about 5 mins to get dressed, so I found a sunny spot in the garden, and would sit there until Claire was almost ready.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone after about 10 mins. It was James, and I actually felt my heart rate quicken.

“Morning. I heard you’re not well, and at home today. Hope all is okay, and that I can see you soon. Let me know if I can do anything. XXX”

I wasn’t brave enough to send what I thought was an acceptable response. I’d await Claire’s input, as to how to proceed. It felt like game playing to me, but I guessed she knew what she was doing.

I looked at the time the message was sent. It was 9.40am, the exact time the first double-period would have ended, and the first opportunity James would have had to use his phone after the start of the school day. I smiled to myself.

I then read and re-read the content. ‘Hope that I can see you soon,’ I supposed that’s the same as saying ‘hope you’re feeling better soon’ or ‘hope you’re back soon.’ I put the phone down, and went inside to see if Claire was nearly ready.

“You can get dressed now, if you want. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.” she shouted from her room, as she heard me coming up the stairs.

“What are you wearing?” I shouted back, keen to get dressed for my first shopping trip in girls clothes.

“A skinny vest top, and my Capri jeans,” as she continued the conversation through the house. “You borrow what you want, but wear flats or trainers. Oh, and I’m not bothering with a coat.”

I knew what I was going to wear, and was so glad Claire hadn’t already called it for herself. When I tried it on last week, I imagined myself wearing it for a girlie shopping trip. Comfortable, stylish, cute and easy to get on and off quickly. I smiled when I saw it hanging up in Claire’s wardrobe, and relieved it wasn’t in the wash.

“Oh. Good choice.” said Claire, when she saw me coming out of my room in the short, fitted shirt dress. “I’ve taught you well,” she smiled. “Actually, damn! Wish I’d gone for that now.”

I gave her a little curtsey.

“Sorry! Can I borrow your small Louis Vuitton bag? It will go well, won’t it?” I asked.

Claire thought for a moment. “Yes, it will. And yes, but look after it; it’s worth more than my car!”

“Claire”, I paused, “It’s a fake.”

Coming into my room, to end the shouting of our conversation, “Yes,” she responded slowly, as if I were pointing out something obvious. “But it’s still worth more than that bucket of bolts on the drive!” We both laughed.

“Oh,” I said, pretending it nearly slipped my mind, “would you help me with a message I’ve had this morning from James?” I was so keen to respond.

“Ooh. Show me! Show me!” Claire begged, pretending to be possessed by the need to see it, rushing from the doorway to where I was stood.

“Ha! You nutter. I worry that I’m taking advice from you!” I laughed. Claire just blew a kiss towards me.

“Don’t hate me, cos you ain’t me!” she teased. “I wonder if you’re a talking point at school today? Your unveiling at the rehearsal, or perhaps spending all night together with James in the pub and then holding hands with him for your walk home? He’s not mentioned that you are. But, it is what it is.”

“We didn’t hold hands! And who would have seen us?” I challenged

Claire sat down on the edge of my bed, “Details!” argued Claire. “And who? All those people at the Kings saw you, some of whom would have also seen you together earlier at the Station. Even if none of those folks know you, some will definitely know James. It really doesn’t matter though; I was just curious.”

“Hmm,” was all I could contribute.

“So, he’s looking forward to seeing you again? Interesting.” Claire was clearly intrigued.

Having read that over and over, I was confident advising ,“I think that’s just what you say, when wishing someone gets better soon.”

“Do you even kid yourself with these things you say? Why so reluctant to see what’s really there? I thought we got passed this last night.” Claire snapped back.

“You what?” joining Claire in sitting on the bed.

Claire continued “Come on, grow up! He’s basically sent you a message that says ‘stuff, stuff, stuff, I want to see you again.’ It’s actually a bit lazy. Is he not really a confident guy?”

“He’s not said that. And how do you mean, lazy?” It’s not even 10am, and I was nearly re-confused all over again. I massaged my toes into the thick carpet.

“He’s testing the waters. Come on, catch-up!” Claire sounded frustrated. “He’s building himself up to asking you out on a date. Granted, this is a big thing for him, just like it is for you. He doesn’t want to make himself look silly. He’s looking for you to say something like ‘I’d like to see you again, too’ before he’d start being more direct.”

“You’re still guessing that he fancies me, though. You’re not 100% sure of that, are you?” I pushed back.

“No, Sam. I tried to be clear last night, but I really don’t think I am wrong. I’m not talking fifty-fifty here, I’m 99 per-cent certain.” Claire emphasised. “The one percent is attributable to just one variable I don’t quite understand yet.”

“You? You don’t know something? Jesus wept!” I mocked

“Ha, fucking ha.” Claire replied sarcastically. “The only bit I’ve not yet reconciled is that you’ve known this guy for what, six years, and these feelings pour out after seeing you just once as a girl. There’s something I am missing. He’s taking a big risk, after meeting girl-you for, what, three or four hours. Anyway, grab your bag, we’re off. We’ll deal with that later.”

I made sure my borrowed bag had my wallet, phone and lip gloss in it. With my keys still being locked in the gym changing rooms at school, I had everything I think I needed.

My sister’s driving was heart-stopping, but after three near-misses in one thirty minute drive we made it to the shopping centre. Once parked, she was in her element, and on an absolute mission.

“Right. Shoes. Two birds with one stone with that one. I want to get you at least one pair of out-out shoes, a pair of casual shoes - maybe trainers, and a pair of boots. No exact briefs on these, we have an awful lot of wardrobe building to catch-up on - you should already have all the fundamentals by your age. I do, however, also want to get something for James.” Claire’s mission was in full flight.

“For James?” I queried.

“Yes, we’re sending him a picture of you. Oh, here we are.” Claire instructed, as we arrived at the first shoe shop, apparently not in the mood to elaborate further.

Claire had me try on about 10 pairs of shoes, and we bought one pair of almost knee-high brown boots with a three inch slim heel. I thought they looked great, and thought they’d look sexy - perhaps even a little slutty - with figure-hugging jeans.

“Okay,” said Claire, as we were leaving the store with our purchase, “sit down there, give me your phone and smile for the camera”. After five photos, in all different directed poses, we left.

“Attach this to James’s last text, with this message,” as Claire pointed me towards one of the photos, one of me sat on a stool with plenty of thigh on show.

“Is this soon enough to see me? Started to feel better. Gone shopping with my sister. Enjoy school! ;) XX”

I followed my sister’s instructions. “Hope you appreciate how much I trust you, despite me thinking you’re completely crazy.” I scolded my sister.

“Yes, yes. But I bet he’s already read your message,” she shot back.

He had. Time-stamped as one minute after I sent it.

“What’s all this about?” I demanded.

“I can’t be sure, but I’m guessing he’ll ask for another photo. Let’s wait.” My sister clearly found my questions a bit frustrating.

“Beep! Beep!”

“Glad you’re feeling better, and looking gorgeous. Good to see someone’s having more fun than me. Any further reminders of life outside school would be lifesavers. XXX”

Claire looked smug when I showed her the message. “So?”

“So, what?” I urged

“You agree his message clearly means he wants to see more pictures of you?” Claire smugly asked.

“I guess so, yes. Are we going to send any?” I asked

“Well, if you agree to. Yes.” Claire was almost hesitant.

“Why would or wouldn’t we share more?” I asked. Claire’s hesitancy had me concerned.

“Erm.” Claire’s lack of confidence was concerning. “Well, erm, it needs to be your call, because, erm, these photos are likely going straight into his wank bank. I’m not going to pimp my little brother or sister out. We need to have a chat about pronouns, by the way.”

I raised my hands to cover my mouth, stifling a gasp, that turned into a laugh. I had an image flash into my mind. James, naked on his bed, holding his hard dick in one hand and him mobile phone in another.

“Let’s send him another.” I decided and proclaimed confidently. “In an out-out dress. There’s one in the boutique at the other end of the mall that I want to try on.”

A going-out dress or outfit was on my sisters shopping list for me. She told me that everyone was dressing up for this weekend’s trip to Manchester, and if I decided to come, we needed to get something for that.

“You could have worn your black dress, if you didn’t need to keep that available for the play,” suggested my sister, as we walked side-by-side through the shopping mall to the boutique dress shop.

“My dress?” I asked, “Your dress, you mean?”

Claire shook her head out of the corner of my eye, “Nah, you keep it.” she offered, “doubt I could look as good as you in it, and you know, that’s not great for a girls ego,” she offered with a chuckle.

“Oh, thanks Sis,” I gushed, “and don’t be silly you’d look stunning in it. And you can borrow it whenever you like.”

“Thanks, but I was taking that as a given,” teased my sister.

“My dress,” I thought to myself. “My dress. I own a dress. I wear girl’s clothes that belong to me, and I’m out shopping for more.” This whole situation has developed so quickly, I almost have to pinch myself. The thought of wearing girl’s clothes, or even those that do, is a million miles from my normal frame of reference. However, I’m guessing I now need a new definition of normal.

We arrived at the store. Small, but very tastefully fitted out, with a small selection of exclusive dresses and a few other items.

“Can I try this in an 8, please?” I said to the shop assistant, gesturing towards the dress I had my eye on, and had gone towards directly to upon entering. “Also, I don’t want to a pain, but do you have these in a size 7?” Pointing towards a pair of high heeled shoes on an adjacent wall rack. “I’m not interested in buying them, but I need to see what my bum looks like in the dress, and as you can see, I’m not well equipped today.”

I heard my sister, who was in the other side of the small store, half splutter in shock.

“Yes, of course. I’ll get those for you”, replied the shop assistant, briefly looking down towards my feet

She was only gone one moment. When she returned I thanked her for passing me the boxed shoes and the short, glittered, asymmetric-sleeved dress, and took the items into the changing area,

“Claire!” I called. “Can you come in here?”

My sister was needed to zip up the back of my dress. She was caught off guard when first entering, as I’d tied my hair back with a band I’d been wearing around my wrist.

“You look good with your hair back,” she said.

Ignoring her comment, I offered my sister my back, moving my pony tail away from the fastener. When I had first seen this dress, I had for some reason thought it would look good with a pony.

“What do you think?” I asked, to both my sister, and the sales assistant who had joined to no doubt push the sale, as I posed from one direction to another in the mirror.

“Really nice, you look hot,” said my sister.

“Amazing. You fill it so well, especially your bum,” said the shop assistant. “And it goes so well with those shoes.”

Claire, clearly spotting the assistants attempted to upsell, “I don’t like the shoes.”

“Miss,” the assistant said to me, “We don’t like it advertised, so you may not be aware, but we offer a substantial discount to a select few customers who we think could present our brand well on social media. Do you have a strong follower base, that you influence?”

Claire had to cough to mask a surprised laugh if amusement creeping out.

“I don’t use social media,” I replied, whilst continuing to twist and pivot in front of the mirrors. The shop assistant must have been so shocked by my lack of social media use, she had to be told twice that I’d take the dress. With the sale made, she left us, and I passed Claire my phone to take some photos, who went back into the store to pay once we had finished.

“Any suggestions of what to put in the message?” I asked my sister, after selecting a photo to send James.

“Sam, you’re quickly flying far beyond my skills in flirting. What do want to say?” My sister replied.

“I’m going to send him this photo. The message is going to be ‘Hold in there, it’s nearly the weekend.’ What do you think?” I told, more than asked, my sister.

Claire smiled, “Sam, I think I’ve created a monster. I’d read that as you suggesting to him you’ll be wearing that at the weekend; he better hurry up, if he wants to be there when you do. That’s, well, genius.” she conceded.

I nervously sent the message. I know my sister is trying to help, I’ve heard all her logic, and I think this is what I want. There is, however, this nagging worry that it’s less than a month since I first wore women’s clothes, and one day since I appeared in public for the first time. To nearly everyone, that appearance was solely for a school play. I could be making a massive mistake. My life could be about to get much more difficult.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone, before I’d even put it back in my handbag. It was James. That image of him naked zoomed into my head, causing my pulse to quicken. “Where have these feelings come from?” I asked myself.

“Wow! You look amazing. You’ve moved onto dress shopping, meanwhile I’ve moved onto double Maths. Weekend seems a long way away, right now. Do you have any plans? XXX”

My sister, peering over my shoulder, was reading the message along with me. “You want to handle this one? What are you thinking?”

I paused to think. “I’m not thinking of responding immediately. That I am sure about.”

Claire smiled. “Good girl. I’ve taught you well.”

We went back to our mission.

“Right,” said Claire. “There’s now two dresses you need out-out shoes for. Still need some more casual shoes. Then there’s some underwear, a couple of dresses and skirts, jeans, tops, a coat or two, and your own makeup. Let’s get cracking!”

By the time we stopped for some lunch, I was exhausted. If we hadn’t stopped, I would likely have collapsed. I’m pretty fit, and can run for miles, but I’m wiped out. Before last week’s dress shopping and today, I couldn’t remember that last time I had been shopping. Before internet shopping became my go to for everything, I was very much into the in-buy-out approach. Browsing, trying, going back to try again was really not my thing. Now, however, that’s different. I can’t remember having so much fun.

“Now we’ve refuelled, how’s about we get refreshed?” Asked my sister. “Champagne bar in Selfridges?”

“Hell, yeah!” Enthusiastically nodding my approval.

We plonked ourselves into opposite ends of the dark-navy velvet-lined circular booth, allowing the multitude of bags we were carrying to fall onto the spare space between us, carefully placing our glasses of champagne on the table. “How’s it going so far?” asked my sister.

“Great!” I exclaimed. “I’m really enjoying myself. But, how much did Mum say we could spend? We’ve got so much!”

I thought about what items we’d ticked off, and what bought got that wasn’t even on the list. In addition to the brown boots and the dress, there were black ankle boots, a pairs of sandals, two pairs of high heeled shoes, a pair of ballerina style slip-ons and a pair of trainers. With so many shoe boxes, we’d had to deposit much of it back at the car once already.

There were four bras, including a strapless one, lots of pairs of knickers, several tops, a coat and two skirts. There were also some things I know we’ve bought that I’ve forgotten, and my Sister had said we’re just over half way through. She said that we needed to look at some ‘fancy’ underwear, jeans and then some leggings, activewear, and gymwear – even though I suggested to my sister I might not be going to the gym as a girl. I didn’t want Mum to be mad with how I had we’d spent.

“She didn’t. She said to get what you need, and then whatever you want,” my sister said as she looked at her phone, champagne glass in hand. “This idea of catching-up with your wardrobe is how she described it. We’ll be getting the essentials now; the volume of your wardrobe can come from cheap, online fast fashion. Oh, shall we respond to that message now? You’ve let him sweat long enough, yeah?”

I nodded my agreement, as I took my phone from my handbag. “How about simply, ‘My sister has invited me on a night out with her mates. Haven’t decided yet though. Waiting to see what else comes up, as it’s a long way to travel.’ That’ll do, won’t it?” I suggested to my sister.

She nodded, “So, my ever-so kind invitation is now just Princess Sam’s backup plan? Oh to be popular!” she joked.

I sent the messages with the now obligatory kisses as a sign-off, put my phone down, and took a sip of champagne. I smiled my approval to my sister.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone.

“Well, he’s keen.” My sister stated

“I have been wanting to visit the new bar where Simpson’s used to be in the city. Would you like to go on Saturday? XXX” his reply said.

“Right,” I said, “Don’t be angry, but I am going to respond now. Just going to have a little tease of him. Like you said, need him to be a little more direct. A bit braver, right?”

I got the thumbs up from my sister.

“Can I let you know if I can make it? If I can’t come, let me know how you and the rest of the crew enjoyed it. XX” I sent to James.

“That’s mean!” my sister suggested. “You know he didn’t mean all of your little gang!”

“Beep! Beep!”

“I meant just the two of us. I meant like a date. Sorry if I have offended you though. I know what you said last night, it’s just I felt like we shared a couple of moments. XXX”

My sister burst into a loud round of applause. “Well done, James! At least it would appear I’m only dealing with one emotional retard here!”

I smiled, and couldn’t stop smiling. I went to speak, and only a giggle came out.

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but what do have to say now, young padawan?” Claire winked

“Yes, it would appear you were right.” I conceded.

“Are you going to accept then? The game is over, this is serious now.” Claire suggested.

I started to type my message, before showing it to my sister.

“That sounds nice. I would love to. Speak later or tomorrow for details. XX”

Claire nodded. “That’ll do nicely. Well done. I’m so happy for you, even if this does mean I’ve been stood up!”

“Oh my god! I’m going on a date with boy! A friend that I’ve played rugby with. Oh my god!” I said, covering my mouth with both hands.

We got back to our champagne and shopping chat. With just one small interruption.

“Beep! Beep!”

It was a message from James, “:) XXX”

“So, the list?” Which had now turned into an actual written list that I’d been tracking on my phone. With all of the unplanned purchases, it had become too difficult to work out if we’d got what we initially had identified as needed. “Leggings, active and gym wear?” I queried with my sister.

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Well, leggings are worn to the gym, and gyms are active places. What exactly is the crossover here? I outlined my confusion.

“Well, there are leggings that can be worn for all sorts of occasions, to make all sorts of outfits. Erm, how to explain this... you’d not wear gymwear anywhere other than the gym, whilst activewear is casual high street or lounging wear. That’s active wear over there!” Proclaimed Claire, pointing to a young woman on the other side of the bar. “With your arse, I think you’ll love all kinds of leggings. And I am dying to get you some proper fitting jeans to show that peach off! I’m so jealous that you got Mum’s beautiful backside, and I got Dad’s!” Claire answered, as we both burst out laughing.

“Right, I think I’m okay with the leggings, gym or active wear .” I replied, not sounding one hundred percent convinced. “And this other one,” I read from my list, “fancy underwear, what’s that include?

“Okay, another case of the devil’s in the detail, perhaps. The bras and pants you have are nice, and pretty. You’d wear this kind of underwear every day. At the other extreme would be bridal lingerie on your wedding night or perhaps what you’d wear for your man on valentines night or perhaps his birthday. You know, stockings, suspenders, basques. I am sure you know,” she said with a wink. “What I’m calling “fancy” is lingerie that you won’t wear every day, just when you want to feel sexy and sensual. Like first dates, first times, when you’re looking for a confidence boost, you know?”

“Okay. I get that. So, no stockings and suspenders this afternoon.” I summarised. I suddenly thought about my potential wedding night. I’d thought about this once or twice before, thinking I’d be the groom. I wondered if one day I’d be wearing a wedding dress, when I got married. This was all swimming around my head, and I felt kind of drunk with too many thoughts.

“Well, not unless you want to. Do you?” Claire asked.

“Erm...” was all I could say. We stayed for just two glasses of champagne. The cost was a drop in the ocean compared to what we’d put on Mum’s credit card, but I wanted to pay for our drinks. We chatted, whilst we finished our champagne. We managed to cover different types of tops, coats, shoes, heels boots, cuts of panties, haircuts, dresses and makeup styles, albeit at a superficial level in the time we had available. As well as some brands, on-line retailers and some physical retailers to avoid. Claire got a bit upset at one point, wishing that she’d been able to start the knowledge transfer earlier, if she’d spotted that her little brother needed her support. I wasn’t able to say much, despite my sister being convinced there must have been signs earlier than this.

“You said something to me last night, as you we’re heading up to bed. Do you remember it?” I asked.

“Sam, I said lots of things. I know I’ve got a big mouth. Help me out.”

“Sure.” I replied. “You said that you were proud of me...”

Claire leant across the large round table, took one of my hands and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, “Incredibly proud.” interrupting me with a smile.

“You also said that Dad would’ve been proud of me, too. Were you just saying that?” I continued.

“No,” Claire stated with a shake of her head, still smiling. “He’d have been proud of your bravery. What he admired most in people was honesty, integrity and, I suppose, authenticity. He was all about making tough choices, and putting in the hard work, to do the right things. He was a more gentle, caring open-minded man than you would have ever had the chance to learn. I kind of feel like I owe it to both him and to you, to try and live his values,” as her eyes went a bit shiny, and I felt my bottom lip slightly quiver.

“He’d be proud of both of us then,” I smiled.

“Yes. To dad”, said Claire, as we both raised our champagne flutes and downed what remained in our glasses.

Claire started to gather some of the shopping bags, “Are you fit then? Ready for round two?”

“Let’s go!” I said, as I rounded up the rest of the clothes, before we headed back out to the shops.

As we walked out of the posh bar, into the equally posh high-end department store, my sister turned to me, “Do me favour, and don’t even look at any of the clothes in this store. There are some incredibly beautiful things, but Mum would string me up if we came back with a designer label wardrobe!”

I laughed. “Glad you said, because I love that top over there!”

“Well, just get on social media and up your influencer game, they’ll pay you to wear it then!” teased my sister, referencing what the assistant in the dress boutique had discussed at the start of the day.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone

“Oh, it’s your boyfriend again, he’s managed to wait at least 30 minutes from his last message,” joked my sister.

As I reached into my handbag. “He’s not my boyfriend. Not yet, anyway.” I winked to my sister. “It’s not him anyway. It’s Sarah, Ms Greenwood, the teacher from school directing the play.”

“Oh? You get WhatsApped by teachers?” My sister asked.

“Not usually, no. We have a drama club group, so she’s got all our details.”

“Oh.” said Claire, “What does she say? Not rumbled your bunking off, has she?” added Claire, as a joke.

“Ha, no, thank god. She tried to find me in school today, to say well done last night, and to apologise for the changing rooms getting locked, and her not being there to help. She has my bag with my stuff in it, including your makeup and robe. Says I can collect it when I’m back at school.” paraphrasing Sarah’s message. I left out the part about her being there for me, whenever I needed.

“That’s kind of her.” as Claire continued to lead us out into the bright aisles of the main shopping mall.

After another couple or hours, I was spent. “How much longer, do you think we’ll be? I’m really flagging here!” I asked

“Okay. Why don’t we grab a coffee, check what the state of play is? We can then either call it a day if we’re looking good, or perhaps target some priorities?”

“Yeah, nice one. Good idea.” I agreed

Claire pointed to a Caffè Nero further down the aisle we were on, and we headed towards it.

“Let’s have a look at that list of yours,” said Claire, as I joined her at the table with two lattes.

I sat and took out my phone, and passed it to Claire. She went to the list, that had already seen all of this morning’s purchases removed.

“So, we have a couple of pairs of jeans - the deeper blue ones looked amazing on. Leggings, check. Tops, yeah, but you can never have too many. Stuff for the gym, loungewear, yep, some fancy knickers and bras that you’ll no doubt wear on Saturday,” Claire paused to give me a cheeky wink over the top of the phone, “Seriously though, that one bra had adjustable straps, for your one-sleeved dress. We’ve got most of the toiletries you’ll need, skincare products, you also got that perfume you really liked, so you don’t need to steal mine now. Funny how we have such different tastes, mine obviously far better.”

“Ha. So, are we done then?” I asked

Claire thought for a moment, “I think we should go back and get those wedges. There’s still lots of the summer left.”

“Yeah, they were cute, weren’t they? Not entirely sure when you’re going to think I’ll be wearing all these clothes, to be honest, though. I have exams later this summer, that need studying for. And this isn’t a full time thing, remember?”

“I know, you said. But, well, it can’t hurt anyone - only Mums credit card is being abused here!” Claire smiled. “And you can always mix and match some of your boy and girl clothes. You can always wear some makeup as a boy, too. I mean, now you’ve brought those eyes, cheekbones and luscious lips to life, it would be a crime to leave them without a bit of mascara, contour and gloss.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” I wasn’t convinced that the ‘in between’ thing was for me. I’d seen plenty of videos from effeminate YouTube makeup gurus over the past few weeks, and don’t think I’d be comfortable with that lifestyle. But then, what lifestyle have I chosen? Have I decided to make myself some sort of outcast from many social norms, potentially living as what many ‘normal’, people might see as some kind of freak? I decided that I did not care, as my sister had reinforced, happiness is much more important. Perhaps I just need to stop worrying, like my sister told me.

We left the shopping mall, and headed home. I had never seen so many shopping bags in a car, not even after a big grocery shop. I dreaded to think how much we had spent. By the time we got back, I was so tired I had become oblivious to all the near misses that Claire had no doubt had with other vehicles, pedestrians, and any other object that dared be on the road as the same time as her.

“Mum’s home?” I said in surprise, as Claire pulled onto the driveway.

Seeing my Mum back from work before 7pm at the earliest was unusual. She was a bit of a workaholic, albeit a very successful one. As the divisional CEO of a large segment within a FTSE100 consumer goods business, the financial rewards almost matched how hard she worked. My Dad, before he died, had been the Group CFO of the same business, him and my mother having met each other at work many years ago.

We had never struggled financially, but my Mum and Dad had always refused to spoil either my sister or me. Today’s spending spree was extremely unusual, in more than the one way. My sister and I had both had part time jobs that we juggled around school work and our extracurricular activities and we had stopped receiving an allowance as soon as we could work. I had only stopped my job when the local department store where I worked closed down a couple of months ago. With this being such an important school year, my Mum had suggested it was probably not a great idea to find a new role just yet.

“Yeah, she worked from home this afternoon. She texted me earlier.” said Claire, as she turned the key to turn off the engine. “She had some conference calls that didn’t need her in the office. However, she said it was primarily to see you. Don’t tell her I told you this, but...”

My stomach dropped. My anxiety jumped, as I thought there was bad news coming. What could it be? I started fearing the worse, without knowing what that could even be! What my sister had said about catastrophising outcomes that you can’t control sounded exactly like what I do most of the time.

Claire continued, “... she told me she felt a bit guilty about not seeing you. She wanted to speak to you last night, but she was knocked out by that migraine. She also wanted to see you this morning, but she said you were out for the count, when her driver picked her up at six-thirty this morning.”

“Phew!” I thought to myself.

“Again, I don’t know if Mum wants you to know that we’ve been talking about you,” Claire went on, “but she’s pretty much up to speed with the developments over the last couple of days. At least, anything I’m aware of.”

“How did she react?” I asked nervously.

“How do you think? Just like me, she was the model of a complete lack of surprise.” Claire stated. “She didn’t have the benefit of seeing you flirt with James, when he dropped you off, so that development was a bit more surprising, I think. She’ll be very happy for you, just like I am,” as Claire put her hand on top of mine, to reassure me.

We left the vehicle, and started to take bags from the boot. When Claire unlocked the front door, we both shouted “hello” into the house. After not getting a reply, we stopped to hear that Mum was clearly mid conference call. So as not to disturb her, Claire and I deposited all of the shopping bags in the lounge, instead of taking them directly to my bedroom.

It looked obscene. Such a huge amount of stuff, that it took us each two trips to get it all into the house. My Mum’s conference call must have ended soon after we had finished.

“Hiya you two!” we heard mum shout through the house. “Sam? Can you come up here?” she asked, calling me to where she was, in her study. “And Claire, I’ll love you forever if you could get me a cup of tea?”

“Hi Mum!” I said cheerily, as I walked through the opened door into her study.

“Hey Sam!” she said, turning immediately from her laptop screen, and walking over to me. “Oh, let me see my youngest daughter,” and she took both my hands with a broad smile. “Sounds like we’ve had a lot of changes, since we last spoke. So sorry that I wasn’t here for you.”

I interrupted, “Please Mum, don’t be so silly!”

“Hmm.” she added. “Anyway, you look beautiful. I am so proud of you and your bravery.” she released one of my hands, and placed her hand over my heart. “We now know there are both a beautiful young lady, and handsome man in here. Two sides of one amazing personality.”

If this went on, I was going to cry.

My mum continued, “Your sister and I are so proud, just like your father would have been, that you’ve been brave enough to be so honest with yourself. And, I don’t mind telling you, I am so happy you felt comfortable sharing this with us.”

I burst into tears. My Mum wrapping me in a tight bear hug, where I could have stayed for hours.

“So,” my Mum went on, after releasing her grip. “I understand from your sister that this side of your personality is a, erm, visitor. Is that right? Not a full time adjustment?”

“Yes, that’s one way to describe it, I think.” I replied.

“Okay. I’m sure this is feeling all very fresh. You must have all sorts of new thoughts and feelings flying around your head. Must be pretty confusing?” Mum enquired

“It has been. Claire has been amazing! I don’t think I’d have started to make sense of it all, without her.”

My Mum smiled with a nod. “Well, all I need from you is to continue being honest with yourself, and to trust us, however things develop. Your sister and I are always here for you. There is nothing I won’t do to protect you. Nothing.”

“Thanks, Mum,” I smiled.

Mum’s look changed to be ever so more business like, “And I’m told you have a date tomorrow. One day presenting as a girl, and I’m told a hunky guy has zeroed in on you already. At least, that’s how your sister described it?”

“Ha ha! Well, yeah, I suppose. What do you think about that?” I asked, genuinely desperate to get her approval.

Mum thought for one moment. “Is this what you want, right now? You’re not feeling under any pressure? And is he a nice boy?”

“Yes, no pressure. And yes. I know things have moved very quickly, and even at this time yesterday I wouldn’t have considered thinking of this guy in this way. I don’t know what or when it was, but something changed. It feels right.” I replied with a smile.

My Mum, smiling broadly again, “Well, I am very happy for you. Just promise me you will be careful.”

“I will be. I promise”

My mum went on, “And this boy, is he gay? Are you, what, boyfriend and boyfriend? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Well, I don’t know. I suppose he might be, I don’t know. This has been a series of huge surprises. And the boyfriend-girlfriend thing,” I paused, “I don’t know. I currently can’t imagine me being with him - or him fancying me - as a boy. We’d have got together sooner, surely?”

“Oh? You already knew this boy then?” My Mum asked.

“Oh. Didn’t Claire tell you? It’s, erm, James.”

“James? James, James?” My Mum couldn’t hide her shock. “Well, yes, you’re right, that is a surprise. Do you know if Emma, his mother knows? Is he being open about this date?” My Mum asked

“Yes, that James,” I half laughed. “It has been a huge surprise for me, too. And I don’t know either of those things. Claire thinks he was happy for folks to see us and potentially assume we were a couple last night, but I don’t know if he’d rather people not know we’re going on a date.” I answered honesty.

My mum widened her smile. “Well, he’s a lovely boy. Charming, polite, very handsome, and well, from the size of him, I think he can look after you! Whenever I see him, I struggle to believe he’s only 18. I’m so sorry I even need to think of that aspect. Because, Sam, you’re no doubt now following what sadly could be a more difficult path, and there are silly, nasty people out there that think your choices are their business. Please, promise to look after yourself. No more getting drunk when you’re out, like you used to. Yes?”

I nodded, apologetically.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have been comfortable nor saying that.” she went on. “Anyway, today, I hear the shopping centres quarterly results were delivered by lunchtime!” my Mum joked

“Yeah, sorry about that. We may have got a bit carried away. We kept all the receipts, we can...” I got out, before being interrupted by my Mum.

“Shush that nonsense. You’ll get what you need and what you want. I’ve clearly missed something going on here, and these are perhaps items you should have had years ago. And Sam, I know there are things that have happened over the last few weeks, I just think that perhaps this wasn’t the start of all this. We are where we are though; let’s not waste our energies understanding how we got here. Okay?”

I nodded, again.

“Good. Did you enjoy yourself?” my Mum asked.

“Yes. It was great! And no, not because I wasn’t paying, before you say it!”

My Mum just stuck her tongue out at me, and then laughed.

“So?” she went on, “does this mean you’ll stop stealing your sister’s clothes? Sorry, I think you’ll know it as ‘borrowing’.”

“Mum, I can’t possibly imagine needing more clothes than I now have!”

“Ha ha! Oh you silly girl. That’s the daftest thing I’ve heard in a long time. You have lots to learn,” she winked. “That’s your sisters, what you’re wearing now, isn’t it?”

“This shirt-dress? Yes”. I said

My Mum looked towards to doorway, “Sam, don’t tell your sister this, but you look much better than in stuff like that. Claire has your father’s bottom, and can’t fill out things like you. Do you have any padding in there, or is that all you?”

I smiled. “All me.”

“Well, I’m glad at least one of my girls got my bottom, or rather, your grandmother Lizandra’s bottom. There’s still a little of her half-Brazilian genes in you,” We both laughed. “Your hips and waist are to die for; you’re so lucky.”

“Hmm, I didn’t feel lucky, being teased over the past five years.” I added

Just then my Mum’s laptop started buzzing to tell her that her 4pm conference call was about to start.

“I have to join this call. But Sam, remember what we’ve discussed. And you know I’m always here for you, if you want to talk about anything. I know I’m often busy, but you and Claire really are my top priorities,” she paused. “Do me a favour? Tell Claire she can bring that cup of tea straight in, once it’s ready.”

After a quick hug I left and went downstairs, leaving Mum to her conference call. I shouted through to the kitchen, so Claire had Mum’s instructions for her cuppa.

Despite feeling completely exhausted, I started the task of getting all of the shopping packages into my bedroom. After three trips, all I had accomplished was moving the real issue from one room to another. I didn’t have the room for these new clothes, for two full wardrobes. I was too distracted by the packages to deal with that, I’d seen and mostly tried on all the clothes and shoes just a few hours ago, but I just had to look at them again.

After a few moments, my bed was covered in my new dresses, my bras, my panties, my skirts; I wanted to wear them all straight away. I was actually hoping that Mum will want a fashion show later tonight, and wondered what she will think of the selections.

A thought occurred to me, will James like my taste in clothes? Will he think I look hot? Will he see me in fancy lingerie, and how long would that be? Come his next birthday, would I be wearing stockings and suspenders for him? That image of him naked came to me again, this time with me stood writhing up against him in just my bra and panties. I was in a world of my own, imaging what I was about to do next as my hand slid slowly down his muscular chest, over his well developed six pack to gently encircle my hands around…

“Earth to Sam!” my sister waved from my bedroom door.

I was jolted out of my daydream.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something. What’s up?” I asked, feeling a bit flushed.

“Your phones been going berserk downstairs. You have three missed calls from James. Here you go,” as she tossed the phone carefully over to me. “And why don’t you divert to answer phone after a few rings? It just rang and rang.”

“Cheers Claire. And sorry, I don’t know. I don’t really receive many calls. Just messages.”

Claire headed back downstairs.

“Hey Babe!” answered James on the second ring of me retuning his calls, catching me off guard with the ‘babe’, “Thanks for calling me back.”

“Hey yourself!” I shot back, feeling more nervous on a phone call than I can ever recall.

In his normal, deep, confident tone, James asked, “How are you feeling? You 100% again?”

The excitement of today had caused me to forget that I’d been unwell this morning, “I’m great thanks. Ended up having a lovely day with my sister and a nice catch-up with my Mum. How was double maths?” I jokingly asked.

“Ha! Maths was amazing. You missed out big time. Glad that it sounds like you found something nearly as much fun to replace it.”

I laughed, and James then joined in.

James went on, “I was calling to agree a plan for Saturday.”

“Okay. I’m really looking forward to it.” I said

“Me too. I’m so glad you accepted.”

“I was surprised you asked me, if I am honest,” I shared.

“Well, I was surprised you accepted, so I guess we’re evens!” he said with a laugh

“My sister wasn’t so surprised, I must say.”

“Your sister? Have you been talking about me then?” he sounded almost proud to have been a topic for conversation.

“Erm, yeah. We’ve had some pretty serious chats about several things over the past 24 hours.”

“Sounds a bit intense. Hope it’s all okay?” Sounding concerned.

“Yes, everything is fine, thanks James. Actually, things are feeling pretty good.”

“Great! I’ll try not to fuck that up then!” James shot back.

We both laughed.

“Have you been chatting about me with anyone?” I wondered

“Yes. I told my Mum and Dad about an amazing, special girl I’d met at the pub, and I also mentioned it to Martin. He brought up with me that he’d felt a bit of a gooseberry last night, and had eventually gone to the Kings Arms. He’d seen us walk home together from there.” James updated

“Are you okay that people know?” I asked

“Yes,” James responded with no hesitation. “Are you? I mean, it’s not a problem if you’re not. I mean, I’d be embarrassed about dating me, too. In fact, some of my ex girlfriends probably have been!” he joked. “We’d just change the plan; go further afield, where we won’t bump into folks we know.”

“I am okay for people to know we’re going on a date. And yeah, I bet it was awful for them to be seen in public with a tall, handsome, beefcake!” I joked.

“Oh? You think I’m handsome?” James shot back.

“Erm, well, yeah. I do.” I felt embarrassed, but couldn’t think of anything more cool to say. It was either this or probably something much more embarrassing.

James laughed. “We may as well get this straight now, Babe. You’re the beauty. I’m the brains!”

“Oh god! We are in trouble then!”

We both laughed.

I went on, “So, has this massive brain got a plan?”

“Yes, he does. How about I pick you up at 8pm? Grab a few drinks at this new place, that I keep forgetting the name of,” said James

“Sounds great. Are you not drinking though?” I wondered.

“No, not really.” James advised.” No more than a couple when I’m out. I’m doing this muscle-gain training plan. Killer reps, standard high protein and low carbs diet, but they say alcohol seriously impacts the gains. I’ll bore you all about it on Saturday.” he half-laughed.

“Just what you need, more muscles. I’ll bring a book!”

James laughed.

“Will you be at school tomorrow?” I went on, “or do you have one of those field trip things? First Friday of the month, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. We’re going to North Wales to measure the rates at which non-tidal river sediment deposits are...” James started to explain his latest Geography field work agenda.

“James, actually, can I just stop you there?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?” James asked, with concern in his voice.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to stop you, because that sounds as boring as hell!”

James burst out laughing.

“It’s intense stuff. So, no sending me any more sexy photos tomorrow. These rivers won’t measure themselves!” James

“Excuse me?” I said with feigned indignation. “I think I recall being asked to send you a photo. But your request is noted, no sexy photos, because they distract James from playing in the river.”

“I take it back!”

I laughed. “No, I don’t want to distract you. And anyway, some of us have to be in school tomorrow. We can’t all be gallivanting around in the countryside!”

“Says the girl who took a sickie to go dress shopping!” James cried.

I laughed. “Okay. I’ll let you have that one. It wasn’t just dress shopping though.”

“Oh no?”

“No. I also got...” My mind had gone completely blank. I scanned around the bed I was sat on, to remind myself of what we’d bought. I looked left, and it was the same on the right... “Lingerie”

“Lingerie?” asked James

“And some shoes, a couple of pairs of boots, erm...” I struggled on.

“I don’t remember you sending me any photos of you in your bra and panties? No. Sounds like there’s been some kind of awful oversight.” he teased.

“Well, if you play your cards right, you might not need photos, one day.” I decided to play a strong hand, to try and recover the upper hand in the conversation.

There was a slight pause. My anxiety response kicked in. In a split second I’d convinced myself that he was disgusted at the thought of seeing me in my underwear. He’s probably imagining a less than perfect tuck creeping out the side of my panties, or the surgical adhesive joint in my breasts not being blended to be completely invisible, and feeling nauseous at these thoughts.

“James?”

“Sorry Babe, I slipped off my chair,” he joked, “You should really warn a guy when you’re going to say things like that - I could’ve been operating heavy machinery!”

I giggled.

“And which day is this ‘one say’ exactly?” He teased.

“I think that’s enough of your teasing for one day,” I said. “I’ll see you at 8 on Saturday then.”

“I can hardly wait. Enjoy the rest of your night, Gorgeous.”

“Bye for now.” I said, before hanging up.

I made zero progress in putting any of my new clothes away. I had just chilled out, curled up in the single corner of my king size bed that had been kept clear of clothes. For what was probably an hour, I played on my phone. I don’t use social media, but I do watch YouTube. Lots lately. The last hour had been makeup tutorials and clothing haul reviews. I couldn’t get enough of it.

I went downstairs to get a drink, and found my Mum and Sister both in the kitchen.

“Hey honey,” said my Mum. “I’ve got another call shortly, but we were just discussing dinner options. What do you fancy?”

“How about I cook us a spaghetti bolognese? I don’t know about you Claire,” I said, turning to my sister, “but after today’s exertion, I need carbs!”

My Mum and Sister both nodded.

“Wonderful idea, and thank you,” my Mum said. “I think you’ll need to pop to the shop though. We’ve got everything except the minced beef. Claire bought a lovely Barolo the other day, how about we open that.”

Claire shifted where she stood. “Er, Mum, about that wine...”

“And a bottle of red wine,” Mum said, looking to me, realising that Claire was going to advise the wine was gone. “Claire, you do need to think about how much you’re drinking.”

“Okay,” I said, “but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get the wine. I’m not quite eighteen yet, and they’re really strict at Tesco. I get asked for ID every time, and I don’t have any fake girl ID.”

Clare allowed a single booming laugh escape, and I realised I’d just suggested to Mum that I’ve been using fake ID to buy booze.

“Two things, Sam. One, if you have a fake ID, you will throw it away. Understand?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“And two, have you looked at yourself?” my Mum added.

I must have looked confused.

“Claire, how old would you say your sister looks?”

Claire thought for one moment, “Twenty one? Twenty Two?”

“Yes.” said my Mum, “I don’t think you’ll have any problems. If you do, go to a till that has a young man working on it.”

We all laughed.

“Do me a favour, Sam, change out of my shirt-dress before just start cooking,” asked Claire. “Your work in the kitchen leaves what looks like the after effects of a small explosion. I don’t want the tomato sauce shrapnel all over my clothes!”

We all laughed again.

“Okay, I’ll go change and then go to the shop. I’ll start reducing the sauce for a good hour once I get back. I like it to be nice and rich.”

“You’ll make someone a lovely wife, one day,” teased my Mum.

Only Mum and Claire laughed this time.

“Oh, ha ha!” I mock laughed

“Sorry Sam,” apologised Mum, “I couldn’t resist.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’d let me borrow your car, to go to the shops?” I tried

My Mum stopped to think.“Go on. But drive carefully. I can always see how it has been driven through the dash cam app. Remember, if you abuse it, you lose it. The keys are in the bowl.”

“You never let me borrow your car, when I was seventeen,” moaned Claire.

“No, but your Dad let you drive his, didn’t he? Until you crashed it.” Mum replied.

I thought it was a good idea to leave them to finish that conversation without me. I went upstairs to get changed. I thought about what my Mum had said about me being someone’s wife. I know she was only saying it as a joke, but surely that is now something that could now happen. I could get married, and be the wife. I mean, if James and I got married, I’d be the wife. I sat on the cleared corner of my bed. Young women probably think about being a bride for years, perhaps starting when they’re little girl’s, I’m suddenly thinking about it, the day after I admitted that I enjoyed being a girl.

My mind wandered. There I was, stood at the front of a full church, wearing an elegant, body-hugging strapless white lace and satin gown, my hair tied up, with a veil attached that went down my back. Across from me stands James, who takes me gently in his arms for the traditional kiss. Suddenly, my mind jumps, to me in a white silk and lace strapless basque with suspenders, white silk stockings and white satin heeled pumps. I still have my hair tied up. However, I’m now kneeling at the edge of a bed, my pink lips kissing, licking and sucking James’s eight inch long cock. My head bobbing up and down, taking the full length of his shaft in my mouth, whilst one of James’s hands guides it, the other supporting his naked body. I snapped myself out of my daydream, my heart beating ten to the dozen, and my tucked member straining. “Where did that come from?” I thought to myself.

After pulling myself together, after my vivid and exciting daydream, I got changed. I think my choice of what to wear would’ve been what Claire would call either activewear, loungewear, or some other category invented by retailers to make us think we need more clothes. It’s what I would have called a tracksuit. A girlie tracksuit, very soft to touch, quite lightweight and with butterflies embroidered onto it. I thought it was cute, Claire hadn’t been so keen, but she was happy for me to start to develop my own style.

I thought about what to do with my hair. I was loving having long blonde hair, the hairpiece that Mum had got for me was super high-end and could be worn for days, slept-in, washed, and styled. Having it down all day shopping was probably a mistake, and think it would have been more practical keeping it tied up from when I tried on the first dress. I decided to try something a bit different, and wear it is as bunches from the side of my head. I couldn’t recall if I’d seen the style anywhere else, but I thought it looked cute. My sister agreed, when I said goodbye before popping to the shops.

I climbed into my Mum’s car in the garage, and pushed the button to open the automatic roller door. As it raised, and flooded the garage with sunlight, I adjusted the seats, steering wheel and mirrors; my Mum was probably two inches or so taller than me.

I was a very inexperienced driver, and this was a very large, powerful car. My Mum had always liked the traditional-style Mercedes 4x4s, and when she got her last promotion her treat to herself was a G63 AMG. It was an absolute beast, and we all loved it. After putting it into drive, I pulled away extremely carefully, having not driven the car for several weeks, making sure the garage closed automatically behind me as I went.

As I drove through the supermarkets car park, I saw a good space near the front of the store, and was able to drive straight into it. I was only popping in for a couple of items, so that was really convenient. There were a couple of tradesman stood chatting outside the store, waiting in a queue to use the cash machine, and plenty of other people milling about.

As I passed them, I was slowed by congestion caused by a bottle-neck entering the store.

“Did you see the arse on that? Fit as fuck!” I clearly heard one of the tradesmen say to another, obviously taking about me.

“Yeah. Fucking amazing. Bet she’s a footballer’s wife, if you saw what she was driving. Sure I’ve seen her in some of the mags.” Replied his colleague, as clear as anything.

It made me feel quite uncomfortable, but also, in a funny way, quite proud that they thought I was attractive enough to be mistaken for a WAG.

The rest of the visit was uneventful. I did see an ex girlfriend working on one of the tills, but not only did she not see me, I doubt she would have recognised me if she did. I hadn’t even started to consider many of the people Mum must have been thinking about, that she said might have opinions of how I was living my life. I paid at the self service till, with another older shop assistant approving my alcohol purchase. In addition to the minced beef and bottle of red wine, I picked myself up a couple of pairs of tights. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I got one black opaque pair and a silkier natural colour. I had no idea if I needed them, I just wanted to try them on; I’ve always enjoyed touching legs that were wearing them, and wondered if they felt as nice to wear.

Leaving the store, those tradesmen were sat in their van, parked in the area marked ‘drop off only’. I had to look into their direction, to check that the road was safe to cross; out of the corner of my eye, I could see they were staring at me. I got into my Mum’s car, and as it was still sunny, I thought I’d borrow her shades.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone, as I left the supermarket car park and onto the main road.

“I wonder if that’s James?” I thought to myself. I wasn’t, however, going to look at my phone whilst driving. I’m not, and never have been a goodie-goodie, but beyond simply breaking the law, I had promised my Mum that I’d be careful. I was reminded of something my Dad used to say ‘integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is looking.’ He’d never subscribe to what some of my rugby coaches said, when they suggested something was only illegal if the referee saw it.

I couldn’t resist any longer. I pulled over, to read the message. It was my friend Martin.

“Just like most girls, you’re already ignoring me! How did you not see me, as you were leaving Tesco?”

“Ha! Sorry. Too busy trying not to crash my Mum’s car. You okay? X”

“Before that. Walking out of the shop. I waved as you got into your Mum’s drug-dealer car, then you put on your sunnies. You looked like some kind of pop star, hiding from the paparazzi lol”

“Yeah, sorry. I missed you. X” not sure if this was going anywhere else.

“Just wanted to let you know, we’re all happy for you and James. Surprised, but we’re all cool. If anyone gives you any stick, we’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Martin. Very kind. X” I sent, and headed home.

“That was lovely. Add a few more dishes to your repertoire, and Mum’s right, perfect wifey material.” Claire tried to drag out Mum’s earlier joke, but suffered an embarrassing tumbleweed moment. “I’ll get my coat”, which did raise a laugh.

“Yes, that was perfect. A toast to the chef. To Sam!” My mum added.

“To Sam!” my sister joined in. “Are you showing Mum any of what we bought today? Other than this ridiculously cute play suit?

“Oh, yes. Please!” pleaded my Mum

“There’s so much! How about what the options are for Saturday night?” I suggested

“Good idea.” said Mum.

“Options? What options?” Asked my sister.

“Well, I think I’d have four options, if the little black dress wasn’t needed for the play. There’s the one we got when it was potentially for Manchester with you - which James has seen. Then there’s the two we got from that dimly lit store at the other end of the centre. The one that’s like tied around, with the open sections down the front, and then there’s the tight one, with quite a high neck - with the black swoosh down one side.

“Oh,” said my sister. “I just assumed it would be the first one we got. It’s not like a wedding dress, you know? It doesn’t matter that James has seen it. And they’re all tight ones!”

We all laughed, at both her jokes.

“I think I’d like to surprise him.” I suggested.

“It’s going to work out very expensive, if you get a new outfit, every time you go out with your boyfriend!” Claire joked

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I declared

Mum piped up, “Stop teasing your sister. James is not Sam’s boyfriend. Yet.” she said with a wink.

“Thanks Mum, I think.” Not sure if she was sticking up for me, or joining in with the teasing herself.

“Let’s see them all,” Mum requested, “then we can see what we think.”

Once I’d modelled the three dresses Mum hadn’t already seen, it was a two to one split decision. Claire had changed her mind, and went with my choice. My Mum thought that one was a bit too revealing, with two patches on my midriff that were open, and thought the ‘original’ dress was the one to go for. Claire thought that with my flat stomach, you work with what you’ve got. Somewhat ironic that I’d been trying for the last two years, with zero success, to get a washboard stomach.

We both tried to persuade her that it was relatively modest, compared to what you many see other girls wearing. Mum dismissing that argument, on the basis that her daughters weren’t other girls. This made me think. Just like I haven’t yet got my head around being a girl in one situation and a boy in another, I wondered how my own family would find it, a daughter one day and a son the next, or brother or sister, depending upon how I was presenting myself. I wondered whether any of this was really fair on my family.

“You look beautiful in all of them, Sam,” Mum shared. “Your choice was a very close second for me.” I thanked her, for her kind words of support.

“You know?” Mum went on. “Unless you’ve got a better option, I think my clutch would go brilliantly with that dress.”

“Careful with that one,” Claire added, “It’s a genuine one, and definitely worth more than my car!”

After a restless night’s sleep, my Friday was not as productive a day as I had been hoping for. Whilst I wasn’t out shopping or playing in Welsh rivers, for several weeks I had been considering not being in school on that day. It was, however, not bunking off this time. I’d got up early to make my way on the train to Nottingham.

I was visiting the university there, to help decide if it was going to make my short-list of options of where to study after I left school. It wasn’t my first choice university, and until last night I’d not decided if I were to visit the open day event there, or not. Just before bed I had told my Mum that I’d decided it were a good idea to have a back-up plan, should I not get the grades that I needed to secure my first choice. Its business school has a decent reputation, and I had found a course that looked interesting to me. My visit there was to explore what it was ‘like’, beyond what a website can show you.

My mind, however, was elsewhere. Once at the university, all of the questions I had thought of in advance for the professors and current students who had volunteered to meet visitors, completely escaped me. I knew I was kidding myself. I wasn’t there to explore my back-up options; I was pretty confident I’d secure the grades needed for my first choice, and if not, I’d re-sit exams.

No, I was there because I didn’t want to put on the uniform detailed in the rules of my school. I didn’t want to wear a black blazer, grey trouser, white shirt and house tie. I didn’t want to have short hair. I didn’t want to leave my face free of makeup. I didn’t want to use my other voice. Not just yet, anyway.

I realised that I had basically spent much of the day in train stations and on trains, to just wander quite aimlessly around a university campus. I learnt nothing that I did not know before visiting, other than that the Starbucks in the students union heated milk in a latte to a temperature I thought only possible on the surface of the sun.

“There you go, Sam,” said the friendly-looking barista, reading my name from the side of the paper cup he was passing me. Before I realised he was a sadist, and was in-fact on a mission to strip the skin from the inside of my mouth.

“Ouch!” I cried, after taking a small sip of the drink, as I walked from the counter, followed by a more emotionally charged reaction to the surprise. “Fucking hell!”

“Careful, miss. That will be hot.” The barista suggested.

I turned back towards the barista, and half-laughed at the understatement. “Thanks for the tip, but this isn’t my first coffee; just the hottest I’ve ever been served. Can you put a bit more cold milk, or perhaps an ice cube in there?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a smile reaching a hand over the counter to take the cup on the opposite side to what I was holding it. He surprised me when, even though I sensed he already had a full grip of it, he clasped his other hand around the cup and my hand. With both of us holding the cup, and him also holding my hand, he smiled and winked. I pulled my hand away from under his; him fumbling to keep a grip of the coffee cup. I just frowned at him, and waited for my cooler drink.

After a couple of hours of the aimless wandering, I did manage to snap out of my distracted state of mind. Conscious that it would either likely creep back or I’d stop kidding myself as to why I am there, I used the moment and decided to cut my losses, and I headed home.

I played on my phone on the train, all the way home. Having to plug it in at one point, as the battery level was getting low. “New Message” flashed up at the top of my screen. I opened it, and saw it was a photo from James; him stood in the middle of six other of his classmates, all stood in the middle of a small river. His size making him look like an adult teacher posing with several of his junior school students. It made me laugh to myself.

“Having fun at school? Bet you wish you were stood in a river! ;) XXX” read the accompanying message.

“Erm…” I thought to myself

I woke early on Saturday morning, after again struggling to get to sleep the previous night. Too many excited thoughts running though my head, from the experiences of the last few days and the anticipation for the coming evening. I got up much earlier than I would normally have on a Saturday, and very early considering how tired I had felt.

I still hadn’t got around to properly sorting out my new clothes. I had simply emptied my wardrobe and drawers, putting their previous contents temporarily on the floor, replacing them with the new items. It felt wrong to leave the new items, many of them so beautiful, on the floor.

My Mum and Sister were still in bed. Not surprising as it was only an hour after sunrise, on this dewy early Summer morning. I thought about going for a run, but instead took our black lab, Barney, for a walk. Having not yet done my hair or makeup, I put on a black North Face baseball cap, taking my hair up into a pony, and feeding that through the strap hole at the back of the cap. I wore some black leggings, and an over-length grey t-shirt. I put on my black Hunter wellington boots, and as it was still cool out, I grabbed my green Barbour waxed jacket. Finished with a bit of lip gloss and mascara, I actually thought it looked a pretty cool outfit.

Seems that my sister was right, I can indeed mix and match my girl and boy wardrobes. But then, wellies and wax jackets are pretty unisex. She was also right about leggings, I loved how my bum looked in them. It was so early that I think Barney thought he should still be asleep when I called him. However, once we got started, he was clearly happy to be out and about.

When I got home Mum was up, sipping a coffee in the kitchen. Looking at her phone, no doubt reading work emails. She is practically glued to that phone. “Morning!” she called through the house towards the front door, where I was freeing Barney from his lead.

“Morning!” I shouted back, walking towards the kitchen behind the dog who had bounded through the house for a drink of water.

“I heard you leave earlier, and had wondered where you’d gone? I was just about to message you. You were up very early. Everything okay?”

“Sorry Mum, I thought I’d be back before you and Claire were up. I had lost track of time, walking through the fields that the farmer currently has the lambs in. I didn’t mean to worry you. And yeah, everything is great.” I smiled, despite still feeling tired from the lack of sleep.

My Mum smiled back, “That’s okay, I wasn’t worrying. Not yet, anyway. However, as I’m sure you realise, there are extra precautions you need to take as a girl, to keep yourself safe. Walking through open farmland at the crack of dawn, on your own? Hmm, probably not the best idea.”

“Yes, sorry Mum. I just got into the zone, thinking about other stuff, and I just auto-piloted myself around a route I know so well. I’ll try to be more careful.” I apologised, joining my Mum sat on one of the bar stools under the kitchen island.

My Mum nodded her agreement to my suggestion, “We do need to have a chat about these sorts of things. Things girls pick up as they grow up. It’s not that we go out of our way to teach girls any differently, it’s just, well,” my Mum paused, “and I hate to have to say this, but some men make the world a dangerous place for women.”

I nodded, with a resigned frown. It was undoubtedly still an unfortunate fact of life.

“How about we grab some breakfast, and make a start? It’s never too soon, and you are out in the city this evening. Do you want any toast?” My mum asked, me nodding my acceptance of her offer.

As Mum put some bread in the toaster, I started to get the accompanying items from the fridge. “I’ll be with James tonight, so should be okay. But yeah, it can’t hurt.”

“Yes, I’m sure James would look after you, and of course, you can still physically look after yourself as you always have. It’s just that being so pretty, you’ll now attract a different, and sometimes quite threatening type of unwanted attention. I suppose it’s just in case you get separated, or perhaps you have an argument. It’s really basic, obvious stuff, just needs to be that you think about your safety, rather than going into that autopilot mode.”

We sat down for a breakfast of toast with jam, coffee and juice, as Mum outlined the common sense rules for staying safe on a night out. Drinking in moderation to as not to lose control and never leaving your drink unattended, staying in well lit areas, only getting into booked taxis, staying in a group and always knowing how you’re going to get home. All sensible stuff, I thought.

“There’s something else that I’d rather discuss sooner, rather than later,” Mum went on, after discussing the safety tips, “I don’t want you embarrassed by any of this, as I said the exact same to Claire. Albeit, she was about fifteen years old at the time; she was quite the early starter.”

Even not entirely sure what was coming, I knew I was going to be embarrassed by it. I did have a hunch, from the clues my Mum had given.

“Boyfriends and sex,” declared my Mum, as if she were titling a parable about to be delivered to the congregation in a church sermon. “If and when you decide the time is right, with someone you trust, you don’t need to do it in backs of cars, on piles of coats at parties or wherever else young people find these days. You can do it here, in your own bedroom. If you’re going to do it anyway, it’s better to do it somewhere comfortable, and safe. We’re lucky enough to live in an old, large house with thick walls, no one’s going to be hearing what you may or may not be getting up to. Okay?”

She may not have wanted it, but me being embarrassed is exactly what she got. I did have some thoughts, and even some questions. I couldn’t work out why this applies only to girls, and why girls I’ve known didn’t have these agreements with their parents. I was more familiar with piles of coats on spare bedrooms at parties.

“Okay, yeah, that’s, erm, fine.” I got out.

As Claire entered the kitchen, after getting herself up, I wished she’d have been five minutes earlier. I think I’d have rather not had this chat with my Mum.

“Mornin’,” mumbled Claire, still bleary eyed, with hair that looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge. “Have I missed breakfast?”

“Snooze you lose,” joked my Mum, “and good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Yeah, good, thanks. What did I miss?” asked Claire, hoping that Mum was not about to tell her it was the ‘boyfriends and sex’ talk that she’d missed, so I was relieved when Mum told her that we’d both just had some toast.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone. “Really looking forward to tonight. See you later. XXX” read James’s message, that I didn’t respond to.

Claire left to head up to Manchester at about midday. By that time, we’d had a full, detailed run-through of what preparations I’d need to make, ahead of my date that evening.

We’d put my dress, shoes, handbag, bra and knickers to one side, picked out some of Claire’s jewellery that she was lending me, and agreed what look I’d be going for with the makeup. I was going to apply some slightly better quality fake nails later, so had already taken the opportunity to change the bra straps to the clear ones. The dress had quite thin shoulder straps, and whilst they should cover the bra straps, I wanted them to be as invisible as possible, should the dress straps move slightly. I thought best to do this before wearing slightly longer nails than those I had become used to. I wondered how long nails would take to grow, before I could paint my own ones.

My sister had shared suggested timings for when to shower and wash my hair, shave anywhere that needed it, when to moisturise, to do my makeup, when to style my hair, etc. I wasn’t anywhere near good enough at styling my hair, and needed lots of practice. Claire had shared some good tips with me, and so I was confident of achieving the sweep at the front that I was looking for, with softish curls or spirals for the full length.

I was going to be getting something to eat very early. James wasn’t taking me out for dinner, which Claire said was actually a very good idea for a first date. Lots of guys choose dinner as a lazy first date. I hadn’t considered this before, but I’m told lots of women are paranoid about being watched eating, and that’s kind of unavoidable whilst looking at someone, talking to them and getting to know them. Then there’s always the factor about a dinner is long; if the date isn’t working out, getting away can be a bit more difficult. Not to mention, if you happen to have a first goodnight kiss, you don’t want garlic breath or bits of food between your teeth. I wasn’t, however, expecting to share a first kiss this evening. James and I are in a rather unusual situation, and I expect he’ll want to take things a bit more slowly, to be sure we’re not making a mistake.

The afternoon went quickly, after spending much of it chatting with my Mum, watching a bit of YouTube and doing some school work. It was 5pm when I came to get ready.

I sat at my desk, which I had converted into a dressing table with the addition of a mirror borrowed from my Mum. I looked at my pre-makeup reflection, “Getting ready for a date with another boy? What am I doing?” I thought to myself, pausing before just smiling and making a start.

Everything was going like clockwork. Nice and relaxed, following the slow and steady plan. Hair washed, conditioned, dried. Body washed, shaved, moisturised. Nails applied and painted. Lingerie on, under a robe. My makeup was going well. I was happy with how it had all gone, until I couldn’t get an eyelash to stay stuck. One kept falling off, and even when I managed to get they to stay put, I was paranoid they were going to fall off later.

I replaced my robe with the dress.

“Mum! Mum! Can you help me? I called through the house.”

I heard my Mum keenly charging up the stairs. She knocked on my door. “Come in,” I said, as Mum popped her head around the door with a broad smile.

“How can I help?” she asked

“Well, I think I am very nearly there. I just have jewellery, shoes and perfume to take care of. And...” I said, turning around to show my Mum my back, and gesturing towards the fastener. “I think I’d be able to reach it myself, but don’t want to risk ripping the dress.”

“I’m more than happy to help, kind of special being part of my baby girl’s first date,” said my Mum, as she stepped forward, fastening the dress in two seconds. “Anything else I can help with?”

“I don’t think so? Thanks Mum,” as we shared a hug.

“Now, let me see you,” taking my hands in hers, as she took a step backwards, looking me up and down. “You look incredible, Sam. Absolutely beautiful. James is a very lucky boy.”

“Thanks Mum,” I blushed.

“Don’t forget to FaceTime your sister, like she asked. Oh, and do it after you put your heels on, you’ll make her so jealous of your bum posing to the camera in that dress. But she deserves it for all her teasing of you!” we both laughed

“Oh,” my Mum added, “when James knocks on the door, I will answer and tell him that you’re still getting ready; you come down two minutes after I first call you. Okay?”

“Okay, but what for?” I asked

“I don’t know!” she laughed. “Tradition? Your Dad made Claire’s boyfriends wait a good 10 minutes, when he was meeting them for the first time. I don’t know if you recall when Dad and Claire had that big falling out when she was about 17? That’s because Claire thought Dad must have given the would-be date such a hard time, he left!”

“Really? No? He didn’t, did he? Give him a hard time, I mean?” I asked

My Mum laughed, “Oh god, yes. I didn’t hear the start, but this lad must have said something that rubbed your Dad up the wrong way, to initiate the grilling your Dad gave him. The poor fella couldn’t get out of there quick enough.”

“You’re not, going to give James a hard time are you?”

“Of course not!” My Mum laughed. “James is a lovely boy. And your sister used to get picked up by all sorts of random guys. Anyway, I’ll leave you to carry on and finish getting ready,” Mum said, leaving after another hug.

I tried calling my sister, but I couldn’t get through. I’m guessing she didn’t have good enough WiFi in her hotel room for a FaceTime call, or was perhaps getting ready herself. I checked my reflection, touched up my lips, and then messaged her a selfie, thanking her for all her help.

At two minutes to eight, the doorbell went.

I was ready, and had been for about ten minutes. I heard the door bell, followed by muffled voices. Looking out of my bedroom window over our driveway and towards the road, I couldn’t see James’s car. Perhaps it was someone else, just dropping by at this time by coincidence.

“Sam! James is here, when you’re ready,” my Mum called up the stairs, the cue to start the two minute countdown to my first date as a girl. My nervous excitement was actually causing my body to tremble, ever so slightly. “What am I doing? What’s happened to me?” I thought.

I checked myself in the mirror again, and double checked my handbag. Phone, wallet, lip gloss, compact mirror and house key. I was still using the spare key, as I hadn’t collected the things that had been locked in the gymnasium changing room from Ms Greenwood. I put a spare set of eye lashes and some glue into the bag, paranoid that one might fall off later.

I left my bedroom, out onto the landing and started down the large, twin-flighted staircase. After descending four of the steps I could see where James was stood, just a few paces into the house, chatting to my Mum, them both laughing. My Mum quickly excused herself before I was even half way down towards the large open hallway.

James stood tall, almost filling the height of the double-doorway into the lounge. He was wearing slim fitting black jeans and an equally fitted black long sleeve collared top, with all the buttons done up to the neck. His arm, shoulder and chest muscles were outlined through the top. He looked really good. He’d clearly had a fresh haircut, and his tight fade blended well into his stubble. Very handsome.

Catching the corner of his eye, he turned and smiled towards me all the way down the stairs. When I reached the bottom he stepped forwards, leaning in to put one of his arms behind my back, kissing me tenderly on the cheek; one of my hands reaching up to briefly rest on his powerful shoulder. He smelt so good.

“Sam, you look stunning. I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I’m so looking forward to tonight,” not taking his eyes off me for one split second. He released the gentle grip that he had around me, “I got these for you,” passing me a bunch of flowers he’d been holding in his other hand.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” knowing what to say, even though I’d never been given flowers before.

My mum, obviously listening covertly to every single word, popped back into the hallway, “Let me take care of those for you,” before taking the flowers, and disappearing as quickly as she arrived.

“You’re wearing a different dress, aren’t you?” James asked. “I’ve been playing this moment over in my head, and had always pictured you wearing the one you had shared the photo of.”

“Yes. I am. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. You’re incredible, Sam,” appearing to take a moment to take it all in.

“You look very handsome, too, James. You’ve had your hair cut a bit shorter at the back, haven’t you?” I ask, stepping forwards and running the tips of three fingers up the back of his neck and up to his head. “Mmm, feels nice. Like velvet.”

James laughed. “Glad you like it, there was, however, a small miscommunication with the barber though. Think I’d be a skin-head right now, if I hadn’t spotted he was taking a bit more than I had asked. Anyway, shall we make a move?”

James reached out to take my hand. I was reminded of when my small hand had last been held by James, and how so much has changed, and so significantly, in such a crazily short amount of time. This time last week, we were in the pub, getting drunk as mates. However, that thought soon passed, replaced with one of thinking that if I carried on smiling like this, I’d get face cramp.

We stepped out of the house and walked up the short driveway hand in hand, taking the opportunity every few steps to glance at each other and smile.

“Where’s your car?” I asked, looking at lots of empty parking spots that James could have used.

“At home, I hope! I’ve got Dad’s car this evening,” James gestured to the luxurious grey Range Rover parked directly across from our driveway. “When I told my Dad how special the lady was that I was seeing tonight, he insisted. I think he’s from a time when your date not needing to wrestle the door open, was considered a plus!” he joked

I smiled, but I think I went a bit red at both the compliment and also the thought of James talking about me with his dad, Alan, who I’ve met a hundred times; usually at rugby games.

James walked me around to the passenger door, held it open and guided me towards the car, with his hand gently placed in the small of my back. I sat down, and James closed the door. “Breathe,” I told myself, as I took two deep breaths, whilst James walked around to the driver’s side. I still felt as if I was trembling slightly, despite the warmth in the air.

After getting in, he smiled at me, and we drove off. “God, he’s handsome,” I thought.

It was about a twenty minute drive into the city centre, give or take a few minutes for traffic, which was light at this time on a Saturday. “Are you okay? asked James, when we were about half way into the journey.

“Yes, I’m great.” I answered with a smile, James glancing briefly to his left to see it. “Why?” I followed up

“You just seem a bit, I don’t know, I was going to say, you don’t seem yourself, but I think we’ll both need to get to know each other all over again. I guess you just seem a bit quiet.” James answered, picking up on much of my chat so far being quite brief.

“James, can I be honest with you?”

James looked across to me, “Of course you can, Babe. What’s up?” before looking back to the road

I was momentarily thrown by the use of the affectionate term, the first time I’ve been called babe, honey, darling or anything like that, in person.

“I feel really nervous, James. I’m actually shaking over here. I’m super excited, but I feel a bit anxious, too.”

“Aww, Babe?” James reassured, “You have nothing to be nervous about. I’ll look after you.”

We were on a long straight road into the city centre, and he reached his hand over to give my knee a reassuring pat, following up with a soft squeeze of my thigh, and a wink. I took both my hands, and intertwined my fingers into his, still on my leg. “You have incredible legs. I don’t know how I’ve not noticed before.”

“I guess we weren’t looking,” I suggested. We stayed sat like this until we reached the next roundabout, when James needed his hand back, to operate the indicators.

James was lucky enough to find one of the car parking spaces on the street near the bar. That meant a much shorter walk than if we’d have had to use one of the multi-storey car parks.

“Less chance of you tripping over again, with this short distance,” smiled James as he offered me his hand to help me get out of the car door he had just opened, clearly a reference to my stumble on the steps of the pub.

“I’ll have you know, I’m in good company, being ambushed by that step! At least I came away with all my teeth. You get your tape measure out, and you’ll see those steps are all over the place.” I argued in my defence, as I swung my legs out of the seat, lowering myself to the pavement from the tall vehicle.

“Babe, I’m an eighteen year old man, there’s only one thing I get a tape measure out for.” James winked, then laughed at his own joke.

“Compact sized tape measure is it?” I teased. James just smiled.

I reached back into the large SUV, to pick up my handbag. During the drive it had slid further into the passenger footwell, and so I had to bend down and reach further for it.

“You don’t get many of those to the pound,” joked James, getting an eyeful of my rear end framed by the car doorway. “You would need more than a compact tape measure, for that.”

When I got upright, I just gave James a teasing disapproving look, shaking my head. He smiled, and took my hand, and instead of mine resting in his, this time interlocked our fingers. “Come on Babe, this way.”

I felt so feminine. Walking along the city street, holding hands with my handsome date. Him powerfully towering over me, even with me in the heels that clicked along the ground, in small mincing steps, my handbag tucked under my arm. The sun had nearly gone down, and was already hidden behind the tall city centre buildings. It was, however, still warm.

“Good evening, welcome to Donard,” said the young woman at the bar’s front desk, after James had pushed open the tall double doors and ushered me through. “Do you have a reservation this evening, Sir?” not taking her eyes off James for one second.

“Yes. James Howard.” replied James, leaving me shocked that he had thought ahead to make a reservation. I don’t think I’ve reserved a seat in a bar, ever.

“Yes, here you are, Mr Howard.” said the young woman, crossing off a line on her clipboard mounted list. “Please. Let me show you to your booth.”

James looked to me and smiled, gesturing for me to lead the way behind the woman who had headed off into the bar. His hand resting all the way in the small of my back, against the silky material of my dress, as he almost steered me towards our seats.

“Your server will be over shortly” she added, before smiling at James and returning to her station. I don’t know if she had even seen that I was there.

I shuffled into the right hand side of the circular booth, taking great care to keep my knees together, and to stop the skirt of my dress from riding up. James also entered the right hand side, but simply dropped himself into the space next to me, with us now sat very cosily on just one side of the booth.

With us sat shoulder to shoulder, James moved his right arm, to leave it draped over the back of the seat behind me, causing me to slide slightly towards his chest, filling the gap his movement created. I put my arm out to leverage myself into a more comfortable seating position, placing my hand inadvertently onto James’s thigh. I left it there. Once James realised I wasn’t in a rush to move it, he placed his hand on top of mine, with our fingers interwoven. The extra weight on top of my hand applied more pressure to his leg, and now with the slightest movement from James, I could feel his thigh muscles fidget around. This guy definitely does not skip leg day.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” asked James

“Yes. It’s lovely.” I said, somewhat dreamily.

“They’ve done a good job. Completely different layout compared to what was here before.” James added.

Realising that James was talking about the refurbished and rebranded bar, I took the opportunity to scan around. It was a nice space. An extremely high ceilinged old bank building, with ornate plaster work. As all posh bars seem to, they had added the obligatory dark-painted panelling to the walls, lots of exotic plants and had added lots of plush seating. A massive improvement over the chain bar that previously occupied the building.

“Good evening folks, I’m Conor, I’ll be your server this evening,” introduced an ever so bouncy, enthusiastic young man; much more friendly than the rather formal welcome we - or at least James - had received at the front desk. We both said “Hi” back.

Conor shook his head, “I must say, you’re the most ridiculously gorgeous couple. There’s absolutely no need for two people to be as good looking as you’s two,” he went on, in what to me sounded to be a Northern Irish accent.

We both laughed. James removed his arm from around my back, and I released my hand from his thigh, as Conor passed us some drink menus.

“Ah, will you look at herself? I think she’s turning into a tomato.” joked Conor, “ A pretty wee thing like that, and she’s embarrassed by a compliment? What’s your name dear?”

“Sam,” I answered simply.

“Well Samantha, if I looked like you, I’d be dancing on the table tops! But not here, the management don’t like that kind of thing. They’re right stuffy gits. And now we’re friends, I can tell you, I’m only your pal, so I can try and steal your handsome man, here.” Conor placed his hand on James’s left shoulder. “Oh, I was wrong, your both a pair of tomato’s!” as James took his turn to get embarrassed.

“Have you ever considered stand up? You’re wasted here.” James asked, as more of a rhetorical question, I think.

Conor shuffled into the left hand side of the booth, and sat himself opposite James and me. I was wondering, “what on earth is going on?”

“Will you listen to that deep voice?” Conor said in feigned shock. “They say we’re about 60% water, but your man himself must be that in testosterone. If looking hot in bars gets boring, he could get work as a fog horn on the Belfast to Cairnryan ferry.” Conor added, talking towards me, before going on, “Have you seen ‘Reacher’? Not those nonsense films with the wee man Tom Cruise, but the TV series on Amazon?” I shook my head. “Ah, you need to see it, Samantha. Muscles here would be a dead ringer for the title character’s more handsome younger brother.”

We both laughed, neither of us sure what was going on, or sure if we were going to get a drink.

“And yes, I do think my talents aren’t appreciated. Not sure how long I’ll stay here. Right,” Conor went on, “You’ve got your menus. Give me a wave when you are ready to order. I’ll be popping back from time to time to see if your man is still taken, anyway. If I’m too busy, or look like I’m having too much fun, you can order at the bar, too. The barmen get ever so lonely.” as he wandered off.

“What on earth was that, ‘Muscles’?” I asked James with a laugh.

A chuckling James responded, “I have no idea, ‘Samantha.’ I don’t recall ticking the comedy waiter option. He was a funny guy. Not entirely sure it’s going to be his decision how long he stays, though.”

We both laughed.

“Oh, yeah. I can see what he meant.” I showed James the image on my phone, after having quickly Googled the TV show that Conor had mentioned.

“Hmm, maybe, I’m not convinced. My voice isn’t that deep, is it? You never really hear your voice, the way others do, do you?” James asked

“Erm, maybe not a fog horn, but yeah, it’s pretty deep. It’s masculine and strong. I always thought you sounded like a younger version of the old England captain, erm, Robshaw, erm, Chris Robshaw. It suits you.” I reassured

“Thanks. Yours suits you, too. When you first spoke in The Station, it just sounded right. I think I might have fallen for you right there and then.”

I could feel the return of the tomato face. “Oh. Shall we order some drinks?”

We looked at the menus. I chose a mai tai, with James ordering a non-alcoholic equivalent.

Surprisingly, Conor was pretty efficient and professional with regards to the business of ordering and serving drinks. That was actually quite disappointing, given how amusing he had been. We’d spent the time from ordering on small talk, school stuff, university visits, Welsh river field trips and other nonsense.

Once the drinks came, and we’d knew we’d not be distracted, I think we both started to open up a bit.

“Does this feel a bit weird?” I asked

“What?” James replied

“This. Us, on a date?”

“No.” Answered James, in a matter of fact way. “Why, do you think it’s weird?”

“I kind of think that I should think that it’s weird. But I don’t. I’m having too much fun.” I smiled.

“Sam,” said James, who had now twisted in the booth to face me directly, “I hope you know how much I like you?” taking me softly by my right hand that rested on the table, and rubbing his hand up my wrist and then onto the inside of my forearm.

“Well, that’s what we’re on a date for, isn’t it?” I winked, and took a sip of my drink through the straw, holding the glass with my other hand.

Noticing some of my lip gloss deposited on the straw, I placed down my glass and took my handbag from besides me on the seat, James releasing his soft grip. From it I took my lip gloss and compact mirror. Applying a touch-up would only take a moment, so I touched the brush along my bottom lips, before applying one left and one right stroke to my top lip, posing a kiss to myself in the mirror.

“That’s so hot.” James stated.

“What?” Not sure if James had been watching me. “Applying lip gloss?”

“Yeah. Lip gloss, lip stick, really sexy,” he clarified. “I’ve just had to give dirty looks to about half the guys in here, who were staring at you!”

I knew exactly what he meant. I pretended however that I only knew the act as a process of getting lip gloss applied. Despite hoping James would have seen it, and seen it as flirting with him.

“So, surprised to find yourself dating a man?” James asked bluntly.

“I’ve had lots of surprises over the last few weeks,” I advised. “Are you surprised that you asked one out?”

“Yes. Surprised I was brave enough to follow my heart. In all honesty, I couldn’t risk seeing you with someone else,” James winked

I smiled back. “I never knew you were so open minded.”

“I’d like to think I am. I’ll admit you’re not the first, erm, I don’t know what to call it...” James struggled

“Crossdresser? Drag queen? Transvestite?” Any of those?” I tried to help.

“Yeah, kind of,” James replied. “Well, I’ve thought there are some that were really beautiful. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched RuPaul’s Drag Race, but there are some on there that were really attractive.

“No, I’ve not seen it. When you say ‘attractive’, do you mean they were good looking, or that you were actually attracted to them? I mean, knowing what they really were?”

James paused for one moment, “I’ve not really thought too much about it. It’s not like here in the real world. I suppose though, I would be attracted to some of them. Hmm, who was there? Plastique Tiara, Courtney Act, Farrah Moan; they’re all very pretty. Have you got a way to describe what you’re doing?”

“My sister encouraged me not to try and put myself in a box. I don’t think I am a girl, though. You know, I don’t think I’ve suddenly realised I was born in the wrong body. I am enjoying feeling comfortable presenting as a girl, and being much more in touch with the feminine side of my personality.” I suggested.

James nodded.

“Have you thought, James, what happens on Monday, when I turn up at school on Monday dressed as a boy?”

James nodded. “Yes, I have. However, why don’t we enjoy tonight, before imagining things to get more complicated than they need to be? You worry, too much.”

I agreed with James, and the chat became a bit more easy going. We had a couple more drinks over the next couple of hours, chatting about all sorts of stuff, and I was having the most amazing time, laughing, joking and teasing with James. The bar had really filled up. It was not crowded though, as the management clearly wanted it to remain exclusive.

After confirming with our server that our table would be kept for our exclusive use, James led me out of the booth, to see what else was going on in what was a large venue. Holding my hand, he led me to a smaller side bar area.

“Shall we get ourselves a drink in here?” James suggested, “I get to show you off then!”

I smiled, “Yeah, sure. I’ll get this one though.”

James tried to argue, but I insisted.

James used his presence to help me make some space at the front of the bar, and then stood directly behind me, his hand resting on one of my hips, so as to stop anyone pushing up against me. My order was taken surprisingly quickly, to the frustration of some that thought they had waited longer.

Our cocktails would take a few moments to make, and whilst waiting I shuffled a half-step backwards, just to stop my feet going to sleep whilst stood in one place. James was stood closer than I had expected, and I bumped back into him. I remained stood where I was, rather than reinstating the previous small gap between us.

With my right arm I reached across the front of my body, and grabbed James’s left hand that was hanging loose beside me, making corner-eye contact and flashing him a smile. I manoeuvred his hand upwards, encouraging it to mirror what was happening on the right hand side, and hold my waist. I then leant ever so slightly forwards, gently pushing my bum towards what would have been James’s upper legs.

James moved both of his hands from hips, and linked them together in front of my belly, carefully squeezing me into his body. “You have an incredible backside,” he bent down to whisper into my ear. “Mmm, you smell great, too”, he added.
I put my hands on the bar, supporting me as I went onto my tiptoes. As I leaned slightly forwards, James shuffled closer into me, and when I put my heels back on the floor, the hardness I felt brush against me let me know that James was enjoying himself.

I half turned to my left, where James head was hovering over my shoulder. I smiled towards him, “Hmm, I think I might have met him briefly the other night?”, then returned to face the bar.

James surprised me by lowering his head to rest on my shoulder, and kissed my neck tenderly. I melted and my legs turned to jelly. It briefly felt that it was me being sandwiched between James and the bar, that was keeping me upright.

“Do you want to get out of here?” James asked.

I just nodded. James releasing his grip around my body, taking my hand and pulling me around to face him.

“Sorry,” I called back towards the barmen, “change of plan,” as James led me out of the side bar, back into the main bar and towards the exit.

“Alright mate?” I heard someone say to James, “blocking our progress out onto the street. “Who are you here with? It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

It was Tom, a friend of James from the swimming baths, where they both worked as part-time life guards. We’d met a few times around town.

“Hey mate, how are you doing? I’m here with Sam,” James said, stepping to the side and encouraging me forwards by gently pulling the hand he was still holding.

“Hey Tom, yes, it is nice here isn’t it?” I offered, Tom taking a few second to recognise me.

“Oh, hi Sam. Looking a bit different than when we last met. Are you two, like, together then?” Tom asked towards both of us.

James released my hand, and slipped his around my waist. I let James do the talking to his friend, I just smiled.

“Yes, we’re a couple,” James turning to me, and kissing the top of my head. “It’s new-news, so don’t worry, you’ve not missed the gossip!” James said, knowing that it was inevitable after tonight; it might have already started. I did not care.

Before Tom could say anything, James continued, “Anyway, good to see you. We were just heading out. See you soon,” as James took my hand again, and led me out the door.

We walked hand-in-hand to the left of the bar, and a few steps beyond the tall windows of the main bar area. “Where were we?” said James, as he stopped, and released my hands.

He placed his hands around my waist, resting on my hips, leaving us facing each other, my back almost up against the limestone wall of the building, with James towering over me. I reached up and rested my hands at the top of James’s chest, as he bent down, tilted his head and tenderly kissed my lips, both of us closing our eyes.

I raised my hands to his shoulders, and then linked them around the back of his neck; taking care not to drop my clutch. As I pushed towards him, I could feel his tongue pressing against my lips, so I parted them and sucked on his tongue as it explored my mouth. I was moaning with pleasure as I felt one of James’s hands slip down from my hip, to caress and then massage my bum. As his hands pulled me towards him, I felt his firm cock pushing hard into my belly.

I’d lost all sense of time, but as the kiss broke, James and I both smiled at each other, James leaning in to give me another small kiss, before we parted.

I was smiling widely. “I’ve never been kissed like that before,”I giggled, almost breathless.

James smiled, “First of many. I hope”. As James took my hand again, with a cheeky wink.

“Me too.” I said softly. Giving James another quick kiss. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Shall I take you home now?”

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed.

Before starting the car, I got another kiss from James. Leaning across the cars large central console, my nailed fingers gently supported James’s stubbled chin. “My handsome man,” as I stroked his chin, feeling like I was in a dream-like alternative reality.

“He leaned over, squeezed the inside of my thigh, as he stroked his hand up my dress, gently stroking my pantied crotch with the tips of his fingers, “My beautiful, girl, girly-boy, boy, or whatever she wants to be today.” We both giggled, as I pretended to punch his arm.

Whilst James was driving, we mostly just listened to the radio. I took my phone out of my handbag, and saw messages from both my sister and my Mum, both saying they wished I was having a good time.

I replied to my Mum’s message, “I’ve had a brilliant night. On way home now. Hope it’s okay if I offer James a nightcap? X”

Almost immediately she replied, “Yes. Of course. As we discussed. You do whatever feels right. I will not be in your way. Be safe. X”

James and I had both wore broad smiles all the way back to my house. He again jumped out of the car, to open my door.

“Bit easier tonight, right?” referring to the last time he helped me out of a car, “Unlikely to flash your knickers this time,” he winked, causing me to laugh.

“This time? There was no other time!” I argued.

“A gentleman never tells,” putting his arms up in mock protest. “Let me walk you to the door,” as he offered me his forearm and slowly led me up the driveway, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

“James, I’ve had an amazing night. I don’t want it to end just yet. Will you come in for a nightcap?” I asked

James already smiling face lit up even further, “I would love to. And my night had been amazing, too. I’ve never been happier spending time with someone.”

I led James into the house, turning on just a couple of the lights. Barney doing his job as the most useless guard dog ever, completely oblivious to our entry. “Make yourself comfortable in the lounge, I’ll be one moment,” I said to James, as I needed to use the loo, and check my bedroom was presentable. James, having been in this house hundreds of times before, made himself at home.

I joined James back in the lounge, padding seductively across the carpet in my now bare feet to where he sat on the sofa. He gently patted the seat next to him, beckoning me to sit beside him. Instead, I lowered myself onto his lap. As I draped one arm around his neck, the other placed on his chest. He put one hand behind my back and other on my thigh. We started making out, as I leant into his body. His cock was almost immediately poking my backside. I carefully shifted off his lap, and onto the sofa

“James,” I paused. “I am not going to have sex with you tonight.” He nodded. “But, I would like to take care of this for you,” I said, reaching over to gently hold his hard cock through his jeans, “I know how uncomfortable that is,” giving him a cheeky smile.

He smiled back, and kissed me.

I stood, towering over him sat down on the sofa. I offered my hand to him, he took it and lifted himself from the sofa, trying to look cool, but clearly giddy with excitement. Leading him upstairs and into my bedroom, I told him that I’d be back in a moment, as I went to my large en-suite. I emerged moments later, a little freshened up, wearing just my bra and panties. James, who had stripped naked, sprang up from where he had been sat on the edge of the bed.

“You look incredible,” he said. “I feel like I’m in a dream. You’re perfect,” he added.

“You look keen,” I teased.

We met somewhere in between the bed and the door to the en-suite, a naked aroused James took my face into his large hands, bent down over me and kissed me deeply before massaging his hands down my body, cupping my breast in my bra, stroking his hands over my stomach, and round my hips, slipping them into my panties to cup my buttocks, pulling my belly into his cock.

I took one of his hands and took him to the bed, where we continued to kiss and touch each other on top of the covers. I explored his muscular body with my now oiled hands, kissing his firm skin as I went, until I had his cock in my hands. Releasing my grip of one hand and moving it to his firm chest, I started to gently stroke his shaft whilst we continued to kiss each other. “Faster,” James whispered, breaking what had become a very sensual silence. I started pumping my hand more vigorously, until I felt James cock spasm in my hand and his whole body convulse and him cumming, mostly into my hand. I paused for one moment, before raising my hand up to my face, and licking off some of the cum from one of my fingers, to James’s surprise. As the rest of his cum slid down my and arm, I went to the bathroom to freshen up.

When I returned to the bathroom, James hadn’t moved. “Can I do the same for you?” he asked

“Can you cuddle me?”, I replied, somewhat coquettishly

James pulled back she sheets and rolled his body under, holding them open for me to join him. Face to face we continued to kiss gently, me wrapping one leg over his body, and him cupping one of my bum cheeks. His flaccid, but still large cock, resting on the inside of my thigh, touching up against my panties.

“Can I stay? I want to hold you, all night.” James asked.

“Yes,” I whispered , as I nuzzled my face into his neck, kissing him.

We kissed and cuddled in bed for what felt like hours. I couldn’t believe just how exciting I was finding exploring James’s muscular body. A body that I had seen in sports changing rooms, and ignored, many times before.

I wanted to stay here in this moment forever. With my man, treating me like his girl.

My mind wandered to think whether this was how I expected the night to go. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. I had expected us to be much more cautious; I had expected the night to end with either a kiss on the cheek and promises that we’d have another date, or a shared realisation that we were probably making a big mistake.

Once the nerves that I had experienced earlier in the night had passed, and there was almost incredibly no awkwardness between James and me whatsoever, all I had wanted was for James to scoop me up, and passionately kiss me. I had been dizzy with excitement, since that first kiss.

“Isn’t this uncomfortable?” asked James, in a hushed tone, directly into my ear.

He was spooning me. Slowly stroking my belly with the hand of the arm that I was laying on, one of his legs carefully draped over me, kissing my neck and nibbling at me. It felt amazing; I was in heaven. It was his free arm that he was referring to. After stroking down my arm and leg, it had worked its way up my inner thigh, and was now cupping my pantied crotch; his large middle finger stroking against where my cock was tucked.

“It is right now,” I said breathlessly.

“Do you not want to let it out?” he asked, “It’d be impolite not to say hello”, he joked

We both giggled.

“You can say hello some other time. I am going to get into my pyjamas though. Back in a minute,” as I turned to kiss James, before sliding out of the bed.

“Pyjamas?” James asked, confused

“I hope you like them,” as I went into the bathroom, to change, and take care of myself. I did not want James to see me after it had been in a tuck for several hours, nor did I want it sticking out the front of my pyjamas. After how excited I had been, it did not take me long.

“You okay in there?” James asked from the bed.

I stepped out of the en-suite, lighting up James’s face, in the dimly-lit room.

“Sam? Will you ever stop amazing me? You are the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen.”

I knelt on the edge of the bed. “Do you like them then?” I asked, tilting my head.

James shifted under the sheets, his involuntary reaction telling me that he approved. In almost comic fashion, his cock had created an enormous tent in the bed sheets.

We both laughed. “Do I like them? What do you think?” he asked, looking away from me, towards the risen sheets in front of him.

“Well,” I said, “If you think I’m taking care of that again,” crawling towards James, “You’re mistaken!” as I turned away from James, and carefully flicked the tip of his cock, with a giggle.

“Oww!” feigned James. “You owe it to me now!” as he laughed.

“So?” I said, changing the subject from me pleasuring him again, “More beautiful than your fantasy girls from the telly? Who were they, again? Courtney, Plastique and Farrah?” I teased, as I snuggled back up to James, him under the sheets and me on top.

“Ha!” he said. “Well remembered. And, yes. Without a doubt,” in what was an ever so slightly more serious tone. “Don’t get me wrong, I think they’re all very pretty. They’re just TV characters though. You, Sam, you’re amazing. So gorgeous, I can hardly believe it.”

We kissed, as he rubbed his hands over my silk pyjamas and onto my skin. Moaning his pleasure.

“You’re so feminine, Sam. So pretty. So sexy. I am almost struggling to think of you as anything other than a girl, right now.” James went on

I could feel myself going red. “Hmm? I could show you something that could be a nasty surprise.”

James shook his head, and smiled. He slowly moved his hand from one of my bum cheeks, stroking it across my upper thigh, to the front of my pyjama shorts, gently cupping my cock and balls in his large hand, through the silken material. Without a word being said, he took one of my hands and placed it around his still vertical cock. “Does that seem any less excited to be with you?” he asked, as smiled, and gave me a quick kiss.

“To be honest, I’m struggling too, James. My mind has been blown over the past few hours. You treating me so gently, I’m feeling so feminine. I want…” I paused.

James lifted himself up, so he was sat upright in the bed, the sheets covering his lower half, his large, muscular upper body leaning against the headboard.

“What? What is it, Sam? You can tell me anything,” urged James.

“I want; I want to be your girlfriend. I don’t want this to end.” I got out

James looked confused, “Erm, I kind of assumed that didn’t need saying. Isn’t that where we already are?”

“Yes, James. But, it’s more complicated than that. But you’ll probably say I’m worrying about silly stuff”. I added

“No, I promise I won’t. What is it though? What’s the problem? James was trying to reassure, but was clearly still a bit confused.

“I want to be your girlfriend all of the time,” I paused. “It’s back to what you said I was worrying about, when I wondered about what happens on Monday, when we’re back at school. I don’t want to be your effeminate boyfriend.” James nodded his sympathetic understanding.

I went on, “Even if the schools rules allowed me to go dressed as a girl, and even with my own ‘Reacher’ as a body guard,” teasing James with a wink,” I’m neither brave nor silly enough to do that. I’ve not worn boy clothes or used my boy voice since Wednesday. I don’t want to, either.”

“Oh, I see.” James said, with genuine concern in his voice. “What does this mean then?”

I looked James squarely in the eyes. He sat himself up straight, and swallowed hard.

“I don’t know. I think it just means I need to have a chat with my Mum, about what options I have.”

“And us?” James asked, with concern. “Are you dumping me?”

“What?” I cried out, “ Hell, no!” I reassured, with a broad smile.

I saw the tension release from James, as he leant forwards, taking me in his arms for a hug.

“Fucking hell! Don’t do that to me, Babe!” he pleaded

I laughed. “I’m sorry! I thought you were following me.”

James laughed, “Women!”

“Ha! I said, "That’s one thing that hasn’t changed. I’m still a man. You’re beautiful girlie-man. I don’t think like some crazy woman!”

“Yeah, maybe that’s why I love you so much.” James said

“Hmm? I said, teasingly, “You’re just saying that to try to trick me into taking care of ‘that’, again!” I gestured to James’s still engorged cock, and laughed.

“Ah, you rumbled me,” said James sheepishly.

I wasn’t comfortable saying that I loved someone, after having only had romantic feelings towards them for a few days, using James’s joke as a get out, to not share how I really felt. I was crazy about this guy.

“You’ll have to take care of that yourself,” I teased.

“Okay,” said James, climbing on top of the sheets, onto his knees, grabbing his cock.

“Woah! No you don’t, mister!” I chided

James laughed, “I was only teasing.”

I turned off the lights. “Let’s get some sleep,” I said. James just mumbled his agreement, taking up his position as the big spoon. James’s still hard cock poking my bum as we cuddled and kissed each other to sleep.

I woke early, again. Last night’s memories all suddenly flowing back to me, forcing a wide smile. I looked to see James, still deep asleep on the pillow next to me. He looked so peaceful. My handsome man, my boyfriend, as I became excited at the thought.

I then, with the early morning light, saw last night’s makeup smeared across my pillow. “I must look like a complete state,” I thought. I carefully exited myself from the bed, and made for the en-suite, being sure not to wake James. I didn’t look as frightful as I had expected, so after brushing my teeth I quickly made myself look a bit more presentable.

As I walked back into the bedroom in my pyjamas and now tied-back hair, I realised that I must have woken James. “There’s my gorgeous girlfriend. I wondered where you were” he mumbled, still half-asleep, as I made my way back to the bed. “You’re pleased to see me too,” he joked, at my own small tent in my silk shorts.

I got back into bed, and snuggled up to James. “Mmm, I groaned at the pleasure of feeling his warm body.” I wasn’t the only one that had woken up excited. I turned my back towards him, pulling his arm over me like a blanket, and again having his cock stick in my back.

I half tilted my head off the pillow, towards James behind me. He sensed my movement and raised his head to kiss me, pulling me closer into his body. The kissing became more passionate, until the feelings overwhelmed me, and I paused, “James, I want you inside me,” I whispered,

“What?” he asked.

“There’s something you can use as lube over there’” I added, he had heard what he had thought.

“Are you sure? Are you ready?” James whispered, fully waking up quite quickly. I moaned my confirmation.

James jumped out of the bed, as if had just been bitten by a rat. Returning with the cream I thought he could use as a lube, and a condom he’d quickly extracted from his wallet that lay on the floor with all his clothes.

Still lying on my side, he started kissing my neck. Steadying himself with one arm on the bed, he slowly lowered my shorts down my legs, until I was able to kick them off one of my toes. He grabbed my leg whilst I was returning it to the bed, lowering it, and gently turning me over, so that I was lying face down. James encouraged me forwards, so that my upper body was resting on the pillows and my knees; my belly and crotch raised off the bed.

I felt James insert his fingers into my backside, shocking me with how cold the cream was that he was applying. He took a hold of my left hip, and reached his right arm forwards, taking hold of my still erect cock. Again, I jumped with surprise.

“Are you sure you want this?” whispered James

I turned my head as far around towards James as I could, and nodded, “Yes,” I whispered back, “I want you.”

I could feel James steadying himself, before I sensed both a pressure in my bum and a tightening around my cock. The combined sensation was like nothing I have ever experienced before, and acted to take my breath away. Whilst the stroking motion against my cock started to feel more familiar, the discomfort in my anus was entirely alien to me. James continued to press further, pushing himself further into me, causing me to yelp in deep breaths.

“Am I hurting you?” asked James, tenderly.

“No,” I replied, clearly in discomfort. James slowed down his progress.

I had taken almost all that I could take, and was about to ask James to stop, when he withdrew. He then returned, and started rhythmically fucking me in the arse. It was an entirely different sensation. Just as much discomfort from feeling him fill me up, but a different, excited sensation overrode that, until it became pleasant, shortly before starting to feel incredible.

I stopped wincing, and starting groaning with enjoyment. Pushing my elbows deeper into the pillows, so I had more leverage to push back against James, as he thrust into me.

I surprised myself with my own scream, when I came onto James’s hand and onto the bed sheets. James released my cock, taking a firm grip of my right hip, in doing so smearing my cum over my skin.

I then sensed another sensation. I could feel James’s cock start to spasm, as he started to groan louder. Until he let out one cry, collapsing to his right, taking me with him, his cock still in my arse. Both of us panting, and unable to speak.

James recovered more quickly, after he had exited himself from me, and we both lay on our backs; me laying in my own cum and James’s that was seeping out of my backside. I felt high.

“That was,” James paused for breath, “incredible”.

“Yeah,” I agreed, still gasping for breath, “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“Sam, you’re incredible,” said James, rolling over to face me.

“You did all the work!” I joked, and James laughed.

Taking my face in his hands for a kiss, “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too.”

“Mmm. That feels good.”

We continued for at least another hour, just like we had been before we went to sleep last night. Kissing, cuddling, holding and continuing to explore each other’s bodies.

James was tenderly stroking and teasing my body, his fingers gently brushing against me. “That’s so soft,” he murmured as he caressed the inside of my forearm. “God, that feels so good; you have an amazing arse,” as he clutched and squeezed one of my bum cheeks. “I had never noticed how beautiful and blue your eyes were, or thought how good it could be to kiss your full, plump lips.”

“Had you ever thought about kissing my lips, at all?” I paused. “Is this starting to feel weird, now? Or has that ship sailed?” I teased.

James paused his fondling off my body. “I don’t think it’s weird, at all, stated James, with no hesitation. “You’re beautiful, and I love it. I love you, Sam.” He gave me a quick kiss, me kissing back.

I smiled, partly to myself at the thought of a boy telling me that he loved me, and for what I was going to say back to him. “I love you, too. And I’m not saying I’m not happy, but...” I paused.

James raised one eye brow, “What is it they say about anything said before a ‘but’? Are you regretting something?”

I rushed to assure James. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, well, you know me; I’m just worrying about things, I guess. I really don’t want to be anywhere else right now though.” I snuggled up to James.

“Well, I think I know you better, than I ever did before. So, come on, what are you worrying about, Babe?” James asked.

“Well, not sure I’m worrying about that many things. Maybe I am. I don’t know.” I replied. “I think it’s more that I can’t reconcile how we got here. I mean, we’ve just had sex, and it was absolutely unbelievable. I just don’t understand these feelings. Stronger feelings than I’ve ever known, and I feel happier than I can remember.”

James smiled proudly. “Well? I think I’m ready to go again, if you are?”

I laughed, “Erm, not right now. I’m a little sore, to be honest.”

“Aww, sorry Babe. Come here.” said James, him now sitting up more in bed. I leant over and rested my head on his abdomen, my arm draped around his waist. Him putting one of his large arms around my body.

“I don’t understand how these feelings, and this behaviour, is all coming so naturally, James. I don’t get how this suddenly feels so right, when I’d think that even the thought of us holding hands a week ago would have made me feel a bit odd. And now,” I paused again.

“And now, what?” James asked

“And now, I am feeling your cock touch against my arm, and I’m wondering what it would feel like in my mouth.”

Without even looking up, I could hear James’s broad smile in the tone of his voice. “Well, Babe. I don’t like to think of you worrying. We can take care of that right now.”

I fake punched James, not engaging with his comment. “From your perspective, James, I’m here looking like a girl, right?”

James nodded. “Yeah, a beautiful girl. I don’t see how anyone could think you’re anything else.”

“And you’ve said that you’ve previously found some girls attractive, even though they were really men?” James shifted slightly in the bed. “But for me, from a complete standing start, I now look at you and think you’re so hot. I have no idea what switch got flicked. Is it what happens when you put on girls clothes? Or start being treated like a girl?”

James shook his head, “I don’t know, Sam. I’m just glad the button was pressed,” stroking my back, to reassure me.

“Right,” I said, “we need to think about getting up. It’s nearly ten.”

“Okay. Do you have any plans today? asked James, neither of us yet moving out of bed.

I thought for one moment. I had to sort out my wardrobe, do some school coursework, I also needed to think about doing some exercise, too. “No, why?”

“We could do something? I don’t know, we could take Dad’s car somewhere nice, get some lunch, and maybe do some shopping?”

I smiled. “Shopping? Oh, how we have changed!” I didn’t want to say goodbye to James yet. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” I nodded my agreement to James’s suggestion.

“How about you do what you need to get ready, I go home for a shower and a change, then come back here? Once you’ve convinced your Dad to let you keep his Range Rover for the day. Say, in about an hour?” James suggested.

“Perfect. Works for me. What’s this?” I paused as I stepped out of the bed, and onto something sticky. “Eww! James, it’s your condom. Or at least it was!”

“Sorry, Babe. Yeah, sorry. It tore,” said James, sheepishly.

“Hmm, I had thought as much. Maybe not so rough, next time?” I winked at James.

In my robe, and James back in his clothes from last night, I led him all the way to the front door, saying goodbye for now with a long kiss.

“Do we need to have a chat?” said my Mum, popping out of the lounge as soon as she heard the front door close.

“Erm, morning Mum! Yeah, I think we do.” I replied, somewhat embarrassed by her hearing me show James out.

“I’ll make you a coffee,” my Mum smiled, “looks like you didn’t get much sleep.”

“So, it would appear you had a good night?” my Mum went on, placing a coffee onto the table next to the end of the sofa I sat at, as she lowered herself into one of the lounges arm chairs.

I smiled, and enthusiastically launched into a somewhat redacted run-through of the nights highlights. How gentlemanly James had behaved and now sweet he had been, how nice the bar had been decorated, how entertaining the staff were, how nice the cocktails tasted, and how amazing it had felt when James had kissed me. I also proudly informed her that we were now officially an item.

“And is that what you’ve been doing since you got home, until just now?” she asked, pausing to look at her watch. “Kissing and agreeing to become a couple?”

I felt myself go red.

“By the colour of your cheeks, I guess not just that?” my Mum teased. “Look, Sam, I’m happy to hear anything you’re comfortable sharing with me. However, all that I need to know is whether you agreed to everything that happened, and...”

“Oh yes, I wanted it. I asked James to...” I interrupted my Mum, before realising I was probably starting to share something that I didn’t really want to.

My Mum half-laughed, “Well, at least it would appear that both my daughters know what they want! What I was going to go on to ask was how you’re feeling about things now? Any regrets? Anything you need to chat through?”

“Mum, I’m still a bit confused about things, to be honest.” I fed back

My Mum nodded, “Not sure if this is really what you want?”

I shook my head, “No, it’s not that. I feel so happy,” my Mum smiled widely. “It’s just I don’t understand where these feelings came from; and almost overnight, too.”

“Well,” my Mum replied, “that’s less important, isn’t it? I mean, and don’t get me wrong, you’ve had some quite surprising and significant developments recently, but perhaps it’s just a case of it is what it is?”

“Yeah, I get that. And I know Claire would tell me that being happy is much more importantly than worrying about why you’re happy, but...”

My pause triggered my Mum to lean forwards in her armchair and place her hand on top of mine, as it rested on the arm of the sofa. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“Well, if I can feel so differently about such huge things, so quickly, how do I know I won’t feel differently again next week? I mean, how do I know I haven’t got some sort of mental illness?” I finished

My Mum got up out of the armchair, and sat down next to me on the sofa. Putting her arm around me, “Right. There are two things there. If you think differently next week, you tell James ‘thanks’ and move on. Would that be awkward? Embarrassing? Maybe. Probably. Would that pass? Yes. Definitely.”

I nodded. “I don’t think I will feel differently, though. He told me that he loves me, and I told him I loved him too,” looking down into my lap. I suddenly remembered I’d not yet freshened up, and hoped my Mum wasn’t able to tell that.

“Just like your sister,” my Mum teased. “Falling in love after every first date!”

We both laughed. “It’s not like that,” I said.

“It never was with your sister, either,” my Mum continued her teasing. “And the second point, you’re not mentally ill, Sam. I applaud everything the schools are now doing to promote mental health; just like what we’ve been doing at work. And this isn’t me offering advice as a mental health first aider as we’re not trained like that, but, I don’t think you have that sort of mental health problems.”

“Those sort?” I frowned. “Do I have other sorts, then?”

“Well, Sam, I think your unnecessary worrying could be seen as a bit of an anxiety thing. But, if your Mum isn’t worrying about you, then trust me; I don’t think you need to worry. Basically, what would Claire say?” my Mum asked.

“Chill out!” I answered without hesitation.

My Mum shook her head, “That’s what she used to say. These days, it’d definitely be ‘chill out and stop stealing my clothes!’ And if your sister can happily bounce from one drama to another, resolving each crisis as calmly as the rest of us eat breakfast, I think we could all learn a bit from her!”

We both laughed again.

“I’m just glad you’re happy. Keep doing that and keep yourself safe, and we won’t have anything to worry about. Deal?” my Mum suggested

I nodded. “Yeah. Deal.”

“Oh,” my Mum added, “don’t think your sister will let you off this easy. She’ll want all the juicy details! Is there anything else you need to discuss now?”

I shook my head, “Not now, Mum. I would, however, like to discuss something with you later though. If you’re free?”

“I can be free whenever you need. I do have a call with the Asia-Pacific team based in Sydney at 10pm, but can move things around for you. I’d just need some notice,” my Mum offered.

“Oh, it’ll be before that. I’d do it now, but James is picking me up in a bit.”

My Mum smiled, “A second date? So soon? Should I start looking for a hat?”

We both laughed, before Mum gave me a hug.

“Oh, Sam? There was one more thing,” as Mum released me from her tight grip, “Is he a good kisser?”

After sharing an edited overview of just how magnificent James’s kisses had been, I headed off to clean myself up, and to get ready for him to pick me up. I had a quick shower, and brushed some dry shampoo through my hair. I’d have wanted to wash my hair, but didn’t have the time before James was due to pick me up.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone, a few moments after leaving the en-suite.

“Dad’s okay with me having the car for the day. See you in a bit. XXX” read James’s message, followed immediately by another, “Love you, Babe! XXX”

I smiled at James’s messages, whilst deciding what clothes to wear. I think I was starting to get a bit quicker at choosing outfits, but it was a steep learning curve after previously being so used to just throwing on the nearest hoodie. Once that was sorted, I started to put on some makeup.

“Beep! Beep!”

“I’m never going to be ready by the time he arrives,” I thought to myself, thinking James had sent me another message. I was wrong, it was my sister.

“Sorry I missed your call last night. You looked stunning in the pic! So? How did it go? X” her message read.

“Amazing. Had a brilliant time! How was your night? X” I replied

“So, did your fishing for a kiss go better this time? Get a goodnight kiss? ;) X” teased Claire’s reply in reference to when she saw James drop me off at home on Wednesday, ignoring my question about her night out in Manchester.

“Yes :) A few goodnight, and a few good morning kisses. X” I sent back.

“Ring! Ring!” went my phone, “Ring! Ring!”

It had started ringing the moment Claire read my message. It didn’t stop, until I had to manually divert the call to voicemail, after at least a minute of it ringing.

“Beep! Beep!”

“Call me!!! X” messaged Claire.

“I can’t speak right now. I’m getting ready to go out. James is picking me up in a bit. X”

“Aargh! You can’t tease me like this! X” Claire’s reply read.

“I’ll call you later. I do need a chat. X”

“Okay. You had better, you tart! ;) X”

I heard James pull up on the road, at the end of our driveway. I thought I’d need to remember to tell him he can park on the drive, it was a large in-out shape, and he couldn’t block anyone in. Knowing my Mum was doing some work in her study, I rushed downstairs to answer the front door, before she was potentially distracted by James knocking on it.

“Bye Mum!” I called, when I was about half way down the stairs, not waiting to hear her response.

When I opened the front door, James was still a few steps away from the front door. I stepped outside and flung my arms around his neck, him grabbing my waist and lifting me up into a kiss.

“Well, I think that’s easily the best welcome I’ve ever had!” James beamed, putting me back down on the door step. “You must have missed me!” he teased.

“Well, I think I just about survived without you,” I teased back. “Let’s go,” as I shut the door behind me. “Oh, you didn’t want to use the loo, or anything, did you?”

“Ha! No, I’m alright, thanks,” said James. “You know, if you’re in a rush or don’t want me loitering outside your house, I could just sound the car horn at the end of the road, and you jump in when I pass your drive. I’d not even need to slow down, if we got our timing right!”

“Sorry. I’m just, well, I’m just excited. That’s not a bad thing, is it?” I asked.

“Well, as we seem as keen as each other, that’s just fine,” he smiled back, taking my hand and walking me up the driveway.

“I’ll get it,” I said to James, pausing to place my hand on his chest, sensing that he was going towards the passenger side of the car. “It’s very sweet, but you don’t need to open my door every time.”

“Okay,” James smiled. “Just looking after my lady.”

Once in the car, I couldn’t resist giving James another quick kiss, “So, what’s the plan? What have you been cooking up in that big brain of yours?”

“I thought we’d have a drive out to the country. Maybe grab a coffee, and stretch our legs in one of the cute little villages? Then swing back around into the city. See if there’s anything going on, maybe a late lunch?” James suggested

I’d not really heard everything that he said. I’d just smiled and nodded along, and when I realised he had finished, “Sounds great. Let’s go.”

The drive into the country was short, with my house being on the edge of the country. James had, however, wanted to drive a bit further, to visit a specific village.

“So, did you see your Mum this morning?” James asked whilst we were driving, “Or is she away with work?”

“Yeah, she was in the lounge when you left earlier,” I said, in a very matter of fact manner.

“And, what did you talk about? What did she have to say about, you know?” James enquired

I smiled to myself, “About? About you bringing me home late at night, and taking advantage of me?”

“Ha! Ha!” James let out a short burst of loud laughter. “Yeah, I suppose that’s it, if you like. What did she have to say?”

“Sorry, just teasing.” I rubbed James’s thigh, as we glanced a look at each other. “We didn’t talk much. Not yet, anyway. She’s not daft enough to think we were playing computer games all night. She’s cool though.”

“Why do you say ‘not yet’?” James asked

“Like what I said last night. I’m not going to school tomorrow, and need to discuss some options with her. Last few weeks of teaching the balance of the material, where I’ll sit exams, you know?”

James nodded, “Yeah, I remember. Was just checking you’d not changed your mind about that. I don’t think it would be as bad as you’re thinking, and I’d be there to look after you.”

I smiled, “Thanks. But, well, I’m not going to school dressed as a girl. So, I’ll see what Mum has to say.”

“Oh!” said James, “The sat nav is taking me the other way to that road sign. Hmm...” he paused. “Think I’ll follow the road sign. The sat nav in this car tries to go some really funny routes.”

“Is that where we’re going?” I asked

“Yeah. Googled some ideas earlier and it suggested this was a really pretty place. Very romantic.”

I blushed, “Aww, how sweet. When did you get all about the planning? This and booking the table last night.”

“Guess I just didn’t want to mess anything up!” smiled James

Interlocking my fingers in James, as his arm rested on the large centre armrest, “Trust me. You’re a million miles from messing anything up.”

We pulled into the small car park in the centre of the village. “You’re right, this is very pretty.” I smiled to James, who had walked around to my side of the car.

After taking my hand, he leant in to give me a kiss. Having just touched up my lip gloss, I showed him my cheek, and he kissed that. “You spurned me!” he teased, “I love how you smell, though.”

We walked off, hand in hand, down the village’s high street. We popped into nearly all of the small shops. Knowing that the village attracts lots of day visitors, many of the shops were selling trinkets, soft furnishings and house decorations. We didn’t buy anything, but enjoyed browsing together.

Once we’d walked up and down the length of the high street, James got us both a couple of takeaway coffees, “Come this way, I think it leads to the river”, passing me a cup and taking my free hand.

He led me down a small alley way, between two of the shops. It didn’t look like it was going to lead anywhere, so I was surprised that it opened up into a small park, which sat on the banks of the tree-lined river.

“Over there,” suggested James, pointing towards a wooden bench, positioned on the water’s edge. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s very romantic,” as I first placed my coffee cup on the floor next to my feet, before taking James’s cup from his hands and placing it down next to mine. With my legs crossed, and my thigh rubbing against James’s, he put one arm behind my back and wedged his other in between my two crossed legs. I reached up to tenderly hold his face in my hands, as our lips touched. It would be my tongue that slipped into James’s mouth, and he happily sucked on it.

Our lips parted, and we just smiled at each other. James raising his hand from my leg, and gently touching his fingers to my lips. “So beautiful,” he said. I allowed my hands to fall, one onto my thigh, and the other onto my own.

“I think I could stay here forever,” James said.

“I doubt we could afford the house prices!” I joked

James half-laughed, “Can you imagine? It’d be great living somewhere like this. Shops, a couple of nice pubs, a few cafes the river. We’d be very happy, I reckon.”

“Oh, do you now? Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out for us, as an old couple. And I’m very happy right now.” I smiled.

“Me too. I love you so much, Sam,” as we kissed again.

After a few moments of watching the water flow by, as we finished our coffees, I suggested we should make a move. We headed back to the car, before driving off back towards home.

“Do you want to head into the city, or should we just go somewhere in town?” asked James, after we’d been driving for about ten minutes.

“I don’t really mind. Either. As long as I’m with you,” I said, before realising how corny that sounded.

James turned to me and smiled. “Let’s just head back to town then. See if the Greenhouse can squeeze us in for a late lunch?”

After the Sunday lunch peak and the upcoming smaller evening service, the staff at the Greenhouse bar and restaurant easily found us a table. The clientele were mostly a bit more mature than James and me. In part, probably because of their high prices and dress code.

It wasn’t, however, a surprise to see people we knew. Although I had half-expected it, it still made me anxious. Serving behind the bar was a guy from our year at school, serving one corner in the restaurant was a girl from St Joe’s that I know James had dated last year. There were a few faces I knew from around town, either through rugby or from friends of friends. There was also a Mum and Dad of one of the lads that James and I played rugby with. Had played rugby with? I hadn’t thought about that before.

We had been in the bar area, for probably about 30 minutes, laughing and joking about nothing in particular. We had each finished about half of the drinks that we had ordered, and were waiting for our food to be served. We’d decided not to eat in the restaurant, and had chosen a few tapas style dishes to share.

“I thought it was you!” shouted a voice from too far a distance to be shouting indoors a nice bar. I looked over my shoulder, and it was Dave, the dad of one of the rugby team. He’d spotted James, and had left his wife at their table in the restaurant to come and say hello.

“Alright son, how the devil are you? Not seen you for weeks,” Dave boomed

James stood, and as the older man got close, reached out his arm for a firm handshake. “Hey, Mr Abbott. Good to see you.”

“It’s Dave, please. How are you keeping? Keeping in shape over the summer, with no rugby?”

“Yeah, Dave. Looking forward to the new season, though.” James replied

“Know where you’re going to be playing yet? Will it be at university?” Dave went on.

“I’m sure yet. Anyway...” James paused, hoping Dave would get the hint that he was now intruding and that the conversation was over.”

“Are you not going to introduce me to your friend, James?” Dave teased, “Don’t forget your manners, son.”

“Dave, it’s Sam.” James pointed out

Dave turned down to look at me, still seated, “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. Hang on, Sam?” realising after a second that he already knew me, “What on earth are you doing dressed up like that?” he asked, too loudly for the room.

“She’s not doing anything, Dave,” James pointed out, lowering his voice to add, “And don’t speak to her like that.”

“She? Her? What’s the matter with you two?” Dave asked, in the same volume and tone.

James took a half step forwards, and calmly said, “Don’t forget your manners, Dave. I think that’s the end of this conversation. Goodbye.”

Dave frowned, looked up towards James, then turned and walked back to his table, muttering under his breath as he went.

“Are you okay, Sam?” asked James

“Of course. Thanks. He always was a prick!” We both laughed.

After about 15 minutes later, still laughing and joking, and now slowly eating our bar food, we heard a bit of commotion. Dave and his wife Eve were leaving the restaurant.

“Don’t be even more daft Dave; as if you could stop me!” said Eve, as Dave left for the car park, leaving Eve walking towards James and me.

“Hi Sam, Hi James,” said Eve cheerily, “Sorry to interrupt you. I just wanted to apologise for Dave’s behaviour earlier; I hope it hasn’t ruined your date.” James and I both smiled. “You make such a lovely couple, and Sam, oh Sam, you look so beautiful. James here is a very lucky boy. Anyway, see you both soon. Sorry again,” and she was gone.

After we’d finished our drinks and food, we stayed for another drink, and then left.

“Home, James!” I joked, once we were in the car. Not entirely sure why, but I think it might be off an old TV show. James smiled, whether he got the joke, or not.

“I’ve had a lovely day. Thank you, James,” as I leant over, and kissed him.

“You’re welcome. I had a brilliant time, too. I love being with you. Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked

“Yeah, sure. You can come over after school; my Mum’s got an overnight work function. You can keep me company,” I smiled, before realising how that sounded.

James must have sensed by embarrassment, and just laughed. “Netflix and chill, eh?” he winked at me, “I’m looking forward to it already,” before he kissed me again.

“Hi Mum! I’m home!”

“Hey honey. How was your day?” my Mum called back.

I headed straight into the lounge, where my Mum was sat in the middle of the sofa, with her laptop open on her lap, and a series of papers spread on the two empty seats beside her. I took a seat in one of the adjacent armchairs.

“Great, thanks. James took us out for a drive to Broadsbury; it was really pretty.” I smiled across to my Mum.

“His car got you all the way there? Didn’t you say his door was falling off, or something?” my Mum asked, with some concern.

I laughed, “No. He borrowed his dad’s Range Rover. And the door isn’t falling off; quite the opposite, actually. It doesn’t open that well!”

“Ah. I wondered who was driving that grey Range Rover, when I had seen it parked across the road this morning,” my Mum realised, “I hadn’t clicked that it was James. I thought Alan still had that Porsche Cayenne. I saw it on their drive the other day?”

“I told James he can park on our drive next time, I hope that’s okay? And I think his Mum has got that Porsche now.” I suggested.

“Yes, of course, that’s fine. Does this mean you expect him to be visiting more often?” my Mum enquired, with a cheeky smile.

“Maybe. I do hope so.” I smiled, my Mum smiling back.

My Mum looked distracted, “Sorry, I’m just imaging Emma driving that Porsche now. Bet she looks lost in that big car; amazed she can even reach the steering wheel, she’s barely five foot tall!” we both laughed. “I think I probably need to have a catch up chat with her. We’ve not seen each other since your cup final game at Easter.”

“Do you have a few minutes free now?” I asked. “For us to have a chat? You look pretty tied up with stuff,” I said, gesturing to the papers my Mum was working on.

“Yes, of course, honey. I’m due a coffee break anyway,” as she put the laptop to one side, stood up, and gestured for us to head into the kitchen.

“There you go,” I said, placing a cup of coffee in front of my Mum, where she sat at the kitchen island.

“Thanks, you’re a star,” my Mum said, wrapping both her hands around the warm mug. “I got a message from Eve Abbott about an hour ago. Are you okay?” she asked

“Yes, I’m fine. What did the message say?”

My Mum took her phone from her jeans pocket, “I’ll read it for you, ‘Hi, long time no speak. Sorry to have to send you this, but Dave and I saw your beautiful Sam out with her boyfriend, and Dave was less than polite. I apologised to Sam, but just thought you should know, if she were upset. Sorry again.’ What happened?”

I explained to my Mum that it wasn’t really a big deal, and after hearing all the details she seemed to agree.

“He always was a bit of a prat,” my Mum suggested, “Guess I was right though, sounds like James can look after you very well. How did that make you feel?” she asked

“Well, it’s about how I’m feeling about stuff, that I wanted to discuss with you,” looking towards my Mum, for encouragement to continue.

My Mum smiled, and nodded. “Yes, I thought so. So, what exactly is on your mind?”

I explained to my Mum how happy, content and comfortable I had felt over the past few days. How I had found myself having thoughts, feelings and experiences that had not previously even entered the furthest reaches of my imagination. I had explained, as well as my words allowed, how incredible it felt when James held me, kissed me and even just looked at me. Thinking of him was so exciting, and I couldn’t currently imagine not being with him. I had felt feminine and soft, but cared for and protected. I tried to explain how I did not want to go back to how I was before.

My Mum had not interrupted me, she had just smiled and nodded. When she sensed that I had said everything that I wanted, “No one is saying you need to go back to anything, are they?”

“No. But...” I paused

“Go on,” my Mum patiently encouraged. “You just say what you’re thinking. You’ve got nothing to about here.”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath, “I don’t want to wear boys clothes. I don’t want to put on my school uniform tomorrow. I don’t want James to see me as a boy. I want to be his girlfriend. I want to keep being like this,” gesturing towards myself.

My Mum, still continuing to smile, replied, “Okay. How much of this is about James? And how much is about you?”

I frowned, “I’m not sure I follow. How do you mean?”

“Well,” my Mum said, “If you try and imagine that James isn’t part of this equation, that you’re not going to see your new boyfriend at school tomorrow, that he or any other boy isn’t going to kiss you, or do any of the other things you enjoyed last night, do you think you’d still feel the same?”

I paused. “Still want to go on being a girl, you mean?”

My Mum nodded.

“I don’t feel like it’s about James, no. I do have very strong feelings, I mean, erm, you know, sexual feelings towards him,” I was so embarrassed, “I love him, and love how he treats me, and how being with him makes me feel. But there’s so much more to it than that. I love how I feel, beyond all of that stuff.”

“Sam, you’re coming to terms with lots of new feelings and emotions. That must be difficult. I can’t pretend to know what that must be like. I have so much respect for you, for being so honest with yourself. Especially as I know you’re not finding this easy. So, you’re wanting to live full time as a girl, is that it?” my Mum asked

I just nodded.

“Have you had chance to reflect upon what that means, what it might mean? Or are you just thinking of next week at school?” she asked

“I’ve thought lots about it. All of it. I get a bit anxious thinking about it all. The immediate future is, however, a bit of a concern, I’ll admit.”

“Yes, I can see that. If we could forget about school; so that you don’t need to worry about going in your school uniform or going to a boys school as a girl. What else have you thought about?” My Mum went on.

“I’ve thought I’d maybe finish school somewhere else. I have pictured myself going to university as a girl, and then, well, living as a woman after that. I’ve thought about whether this means I might actually be a girl, rather than just what I guess must be a gay boy dressing as one. Does it?” I asked

“I don’t know that, Sam. I do, however, know there is no yes or no answer to that question. There are no rights or wrongs, either. Yes, of course, some people born as boys realise that’s not what they really are. Each woman who has that realisation responds in their own unique way. I suppose there is a spectrum from denial to acceptance, and it’s up to each to decide what’s then right for them, given their own circumstances. Then, of course, there are boys that just feel more comfortable or enjoy presenting as women; again, there are as many reasons for this, and ways of living their lives. I think you might need some help to figure some things out.” my Mum suggested.

“Help?” I queried

“Yes, just like your sister had after her, erm, after her... my Mum paused, before bursting into years, and burying her face into her hands.

I jumped up from the stool I was sat at, and rushed around to comfort my Mum. Her twisting on her stool, to lean into me for a deep hug.

“Sorry, Sam,” said my Mum as she regained her composure. “I don’t think I’ll ever come to terms with how badly I let Claire down. Me not knowing she was struggling so badly, and needing so much help, before it was almost too late.”

“Don’t be silly Mum, you can’t blame yourself,” I tried to reassure, “You were in hospital yourself, and couldn’t have known Claire wasn’t coping with things. I didn’t spot it, either.”

“Shush. You were only fourteen years old, Sam. I’ll tell you this, I won’t let my children struggle with their own thoughts, feelings or emotions ever again. Let’s make an agreement,” said my Mum, drying her eyes with a tissue that I had passed her.

“What kind of an agreement?” I wasn’t sure what my Mum was suggesting.

“How about we make your short-term concerns go away, and take you out of school; on the condition that you agree to work with Dr Adam’s, or a specialist she recommends, to find out what might or might not be going on. Deal?” my Mum reached out her hand.

I shook her hand. “Thanks Mum,” before giving her another hug.

“Taking you out of school isn’t second guessing that you’re not a boy, it’s just giving you a bit of thinking space. Okay?” my Mum reinforced

“Yes. Understood. So, what about my exams? What do you think?”

My Mum paused, “I’m guessing you’ve thought about this?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I think I have a plan. We only have a couple of weeks of new study material left. I could self-study all of that. My coursework would all be completed by then, too. As it’s the same exam syllabus, I could take the revision courses at the college and sit the exams there?”

“Yep, sounds like a good plan,” my Mum nodded. “That’s as long as you don’t put yourself under too much pressure. I know it’s an important year, but not so important to make yourself unwell. Your whole life doesn’t revolve around the next few months, despite what tour teachers might tell you.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not worrying about school work and exams though. I think I’ve got that under control.” I fed back

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to suggest moving to St Joe’s; thought you’d look cute in their uniform!” my Mum teased.

“Ha, bloody, ha!” I replied, with a smile.

“Sorry, Sam. I couldn’t resist. I don’t need to tell you that you would though! But, I do have to tell you to call your sister. She’s been trying to get titbits of gossip out of me all day!” advised my Mum, as I got up to leave, and she started typing on her phone.

“Oh, how privileged I must be! Princess Sam finally deemed me worthy of having my phone calls returned. I am so honoured!” my Sister teased, as I called her back.

“I’m sure you’ve been sat, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for me?” I replied.

“Well, after a couple of hours of that, my thumbs got tired! So, I decided to head home from Manchester. I’ve taken the scenic route, over the Snake Pass. It was fun.”

“Oh, that’s funny. We were out for a drive in the countryside today, too. How long have you been back? I asked

“We? So, is it official now? You and James are a ‘we’? A couple? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” my Sister enquired, ignoring my question.

“Yeah, we are.” I said, with a smile to myself.

“And? I’m guessing you didn’t get dropped off late and picked up early this morning for your romantic trip to the countryside. I’m guessing your message meant James stayed the night? Actually, sorry, I won’t tease you; Mum has already confirmed that. So, go on,” Claire encouraged.

“Claire, you only ever tease me! Go on, what?” I asked

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, little one! I mean go on and tell me everything. I want to hear all about my little sister’s first date. Oh, by the way, Louise was very jealous when I told her you were going on a date with James!”

I smiled to myself. “Just jealous, or surprised, too?” I wondered

“Well, yeah, pretty shocked, actually. She had never picked up that either of you were into guys. Or James into beautiful girls with, well, you know.” It was refreshing for my sister to come across as even the slightest bit unsure of what she was saying. She had grown to become an extremely confident young woman.

I ran my sister through all the details of the date. James bringing me flowers, looking so handsome, borrowing his Dad’s car, him being so gentlemanly.

“I know I asked for all the details, but come on; get to the first kiss! Who initiated that?” my Sister encouraged

I told my sister how we had been quite touchie-feelie, and how we had flirted in the bar, how I’d realised that I was turning James on, how he’d kissed my neck, before us having our first kiss outside the bar.

“That sounds hot! Is he a good kisser? So, what happened when he got you home?”

I talked my sister how his kiss had been like nothing I’d ever known before, and shared how we’d had a bit of a kiss and cuddle, and how I had wanted to help him take care of what must have been some pretty blue balls.

“So, what? You sucked him off?” Claire asked

“No!” I cried, “I’d told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him that night. I, well, I suppose I gave him a hand job.”

“What do you mean, by ‘suppose’? Did you?” she asked

“Well, yes, I did. Just it’s the first time I’ve said any of this out loud. Adds a different level of reality to it all; I now dress as a girl, date boys and give them hand jobs. Kind of feels like it’s someone else’s words.”

“This was in your bedroom, right? Don’t tell me that you wanked him off on the sofa!” Claire asked in a concerned tone

“Of course we were in my room!”

“Good,” Claire stated. “I sit on that lounge sofa! So, what are we talking? Edge of the bed, trousers around his ankles, just taking care of business? Or, something a little more intimate, more sensual?”

“Well, erm, James was fully naked. And we were on the bed. I was in my bra and knickers. There was lots of touching and kissing.”

“You didn’t want to suck his cock in that steamy situation? I mean, I wasn’t expecting all this on a first date; but I know how guys can lead things that way.”

“Well, not right then. I had told him were weren’t going to have sex that night. And a blow job, well, that feels so much more like sex.” I suggested

“The situation you’ve outlined sounds pretty sexy; not sure what difference a hand or a mouth makes, but maybe that’s just me.” Claire said,” Did he return the favour?”

“No, but he offered to.” I replied

“Why didn’t you want that? You think he would have? Think he’s come to terms with that?”

I smiled to myself, “I had been tucked for most of the day; it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight. And I have no reason to think he wouldn’t have. He’d touched me there, and in the morning...” I paused

“Yes? And what happened in the morning?” Claire encouraging me to go on.

“We, erm, had sex.”

“Sex-sex? Really? You tart!” Claire laughed, “Like, I’m guessing you mean that he fucked you?”

“Yes. If you want to say it like that. That’s when he gave me a hand job.”

“At the same time? Like a reach around?” Claire using a term that I don’t think I was familiar with, but was able to work out what she meant.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“And did you want all of this? How did It feel?” Claire went on

“Oh, yes. I wanted it. And it was amazing. I mean, it was really uncomfortable to start with, but after a while it was incredible.

“I can imagine. Cant say that I’ve ever fancied it. Does he have a big dick?”

“Yes,” I answered, concerned that I was sharing far too much information.

“So,” Claire went on, “Was this a first time for him; doing this kind of thing?”

“What kind of thing, exactly?” I wanted to make sure to avoid any crossed wires.

“Having sex with another man. Assuming that’s still how you’re seeing yourself?”

I didn’t address Claire’s second comment, “Yes. I think so. We didn’t directly discuss that. He did, however, admit to being pretty open-minded about these sort of things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like how?” Claire asked

“Well, he said that he had found himself attracted to a few crossdressers, or rather drag queens, on TV.”

“What kind of drag queens?”

“What do you mean, what kind? Are there different kinds?” I wasn’t sure what Claire had meant, it wasn’t something that I was at all familiar with.

“Well, are we taking fishie queens. Like, erm, really convincing, feminine looking ones? Ones you’d do a triple-take on, if someone told you they were men?”

“Oh. Yeah. He mentioned two or three names. I Googled them in the bar, when he went to the loo. They all looked like really beautiful women.”

“And he’s been okay introducing you to folks you know? Hasn’t been trying to keep you and him a secret?” Claire asked

“No, not at all. He’s been really open about it all. Before the date, on the date and today. Why?” I wondered

“Well, there are some men that try to keep their attraction to female-presenting guys as a secret. Often kidding themselves about their own feelings. Very happy to date and sleep with them, but not happy to have them in their real day to day lives. They call them tranny chasers, although I guess that’s not very PC. More like a fetish than a real attraction. This doesn’t sound like James. Thankfully.”

“Oh, right. I see. So, you don’t think that’s what James is?” I asked, with concern

“Well, he’s attracted to you. He seems to have become attracted to you as you started presenting as a girl. But from what you’ve told me, he’s not keeping you a secret or embarrassed to be seen with you. Is he?” Claire asked

She went on, “So, how has the last 24 hours impacted how you look at things?”

“I had this chat with Mum about an hour ago. Has she spoken to you?” I asked, conscious that they’d be talking lots about me, for a few days.

Claire paused, “Yes. I can’t lie. I think she called me straight after you two spoke.”

“She told you that I want to stay as a girl?”

“Yes, she did.” Claire advised, “Hope you know you’ve got our full support, whatever you decide. If you work out that you’re a gay boy that enjoys dressing as a girl, or if you realise you’re really a woman; it’s all good. Mum said you’ve agreed to meet with a counsellor?”

“Yes. We’re going to try and arrange something next week.”

“Brilliant!” said Claire, “I’d be the first person to say that’s an excellent idea. Just do yourself a favour, and be open with them. They’re not judging you, only trying I help.”

“We also need to sort out what we’re doing about school.”

“Yeah, Mum told me about that, too. What are they going to do about the play? Have they got an understudy? I guess you’ve only got a handful of lines, haven’t you?” Claire asked.

“Aww, shit!” I groaned, “I’d not thought about that. I was only thinking about my exams and coursework. I’d be really letting down Sarah. Ms Greenwood. I’ll try and speak to her, as soon as Mum has spoken to the head teacher.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Stuff happens. You could’ve been sick on show night, or something. They’ll deal with it.”

“I guess,” I said, “So, what did I miss out on in Manchester?”

“What? Your first date, first kiss, first boyfriend and first shag wasn’t enough for you? Still thinking you might have been missing out?” Claire teased, “I don’t think a night out in Manchester could have trumped that! When are you seeing him next?”

I guessed my sister didn’t have anything too exciting to pass on from her night out. That, or something too existing to share. “James is coming over after school tomorrow.”

“With Mum away at her conference? Id never have guessed you’d be such a slut!”

I tutted to Claire, “It’s not like that. We’re just hanging out, getting some dinner.”

“It should be exactly like ‘that’! You’re seventeen! If I was you, with a free house, I’d not let James out of bed. But then, I’m probably just a bad influence! If you’re happy being a good wifey, cooking your man his dinner, I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t have to tease me all the time, you know?” I suggested

“Erm, yes. I do. It’s like my job!”

We chatted about all sorts of random stuff. Some of it more embarrassing than the rest. I’d been talking for so long, that I’d started to get thirsty. Just then, a message come through on my phone, it was James.

“Oh, read it out!” encouraged Claire.

I wasn’t comfortable reading it aloud, without knowing what it was going to say. I read it first to myself, and then paraphrased what it was said.

“I’ve been invited to a party. James older sister’s engagement party is on Friday night. James said he was going to go on his own, and then try to slope off early, once he’d shown his face. It sounds like his Mum has asked if he’s now bringing me as his plus-one.”

“I’d say that sounds like fun, but his sister is a right stuck-up cow!” said Claire, causing us both to laugh. “Only joking. Are you ready for that? Meeting the boyfriends family?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess all the attention will be on the engaged couple, so it might not be so intense as it could otherwise be.”

“Are you joking?” Claire suggested, “Alan and Emma’s golden boy’s date? Who happens to be a boy that looks like the most gorgeous girl? That before this last week was one of his best mates from the rugby team? Hmm, I’m not saying it’s anything to be worried about, but you should realise how big a curiosity this will be for folks. That is, until the next thing quickly comes up.”

“Oh. Not sure I want to be anyone’s curiosity. I was a bit anxious about seeing Alan and Emma, to be honest. That said, what would you wear to an engagement party?” I asked

“You said his folks knew about you, and if his Dad leant him his Range Rover to ferry you around, I’m guessing he’s cool with it. I’ve always thought Alan and Emma were a right laugh, whenever I’ve met them. As for the party, well, message James back, and get some details about where it is, what time, how many people are going. If people got printed invitations, ask him if he’s got one of those. I don’t, however, think you want to be wearing a dress that exposes your midriff. That leaves you pretty short of options, with you being such a tart!” Claire teased again.

“Well, that was easier than I’d expected,” said my Mum, as she put her phone back down on the desk in her study.

She had just spoken to my head teacher, Mr Clark. My old head teacher now, I suppose. I know that she would have preferred to have met in person, but she needed to get to her conference venue by 11am, and an in-person meeting wasn’t going to be possible to arrange. This meant an early morning phone call. Too early for me, I wasn’t even dressed. My Mum had probably already been logged on for two hours already. I followed Mum’s half of the call, from the doorway of her home-office.

I’d suggested just calling in sick today, and scheduling a meeting for later in the week. I didn’t want to create extra jobs for her; I knew this was a big week at work. My Mum, however, said that wasn’t the right thing to do. She’d much prefer to be completely upfront about things, even if in less than perfect circumstances.

Filling me in on the details from their call, my Mum advised that Mr Clark had understood what he’d been told, and claimed he understood why we were doing it. He did, however, not agree that our decided plan was the best route forwards; although he would support it. My Mum didn’t go into any details about what his alternative plan was; although she did say he had pointed out how this wasn’t an entirely unprecedented situation at the school. I couldn’t recall hearing about anything like it before, but it could have just passed me by; I had never really been interested in hearing about the business of people I didn’t know.

He had committed that the school would do what it could to support me through the transfer of my exams; and from his experience, he knew it wouldn’t be a problem sitting them at the college. He even offered to speak to the principal there, so that their admissions team would be expecting my application. It sounded as if the call had ended with Mr Clark offering to welcome me back to the school, if we changed our minds.

“Thanks Mum. Yeah. That all sounds pretty straightforward. Thanks.” I said.

My Mum added that Mr Clark was speaking to the college principal later that morning. He’d mention it then, and if everything worked out how we were expecting, I could maybe enrol tomorrow.

“Would you be able to take care of that, on your own?” my Mum asked. “I’ll be tied up down in Bristol until early evening, and I don’t want to delay getting this set up, longer than we need to.”

I agreed that this should be no problem. She explained that Mr Clark had told her that enrolment for exams can be done over the phone. The admissions department would take all my details, and liaise with my old school to make sure I was getting registered for the right exams, with the right examining bodies. He thought that all of the paperwork would likely be sent out a couple of days after that.

“So, what are your plans for today?” my Mum asked, as she started to pack up her laptop.

“I’m going to start working through the last few chapters of my textbooks. All three of my subjects have a topic or two that we were yet to cover. If I split my time over the three, with a wall at lunchtime, that shouldn’t get too boring.”

My Mum nodded, “Yeah, sounds good. Mix it up a bit, to keep it interesting. As you’ve not got a teacher with you, if you don’t understand something, try not to get frustrated. Just come back to it later. Oh, and if you go for a walk, stick to the roads. Maybe share your location with me on WhatsApp?”

“Really? Is that necessary?” I asked

My Mum smiled, “I just want to know you get home safely, or I’ll worry. I won’t see you until tomorrow night. You going to be okay on your own tonight?”

“Okay. I will do. And James is coming over after school.”

My Mum’s smile turned to a raised eyebrow, “Is he?”

“He’s not staying over.” I rushed to get out, thinking back to Claire’s teasing of me.

“Glad to hear it! There’s no change to the rules on friends staying over on school nights. That applies to boyfriends, too,” my Mum pointed out.

“Mum,” I pleaded. “I’m not Claire!” lightening the atmosphere, after the mini lecture, as we both laughed.

After wishing her good luck for her conference, my Mum headed off shortly after. I grabbed some breakfast, before heading back upstairs for a shower.

“Like these pyjamas as much as you appeared to enjoy the other ones? ;) XX” I cheekily messaged to James.

After my shower, I changed and buried my head into my textbooks. I had always been a pretty good student. Whilst I usually got good grades, it wasn’t that the subject matter always came easily; I worked quite hard. It was only when Barney started getting a bit restless, I realised that lunchtime had been and gone. I then saw that James had replied to my message; with my phone on silent, I’d not seen it come through at the time it was sent.

“Hey Babe! I prefer what’s in them. You look so cute - even with your shrunken top?! ;) XXX”

I took Barney out for a short walk, after spending a couple of moments figuring out how to share my location with my Mum. After grabbing an apple and a can of Coke Zero, I went back to my books.

“Ding! Dong!”

The sound of the door bell clicked me out of my focussed concentration. I had been working through some of the problems in my Advanced Pure Maths textbook, and had once again lost track of time. I was reminded of something my Mum had said, when she thought she got so much more work achieved when working from home, than with all the distractions of the office. I must have been working on these problems for at least a couple of hours, and had nearly finished the chapter. That would likely have taken two weeks in class.

It was 4pm. I looked out of my bedroom window, and saw James’s car parked in the driveway. I smiled to myself, thinking that he must have come here straight from school. I was also glad that I’d got ready this morning; I wanted to look nice for James.

“Hey Babe,” he said with a broad smile as I opened the front door. He had indeed come directly from school, still wearing his uniform. I’d not noticed before just how ridiculous he looked in it. Handsome, but still ridiculous. The school crest on his chest pocket, the school tie and full rugby colours of twin gold bands around his blazers cuffs, set the uniform apart from being just a suit. Anyone who didn’t know James would likely see him, and think he was a fully grown man in fancy dress. In fact, more than fully grown.

I returned the smile, as James stepped through the doorway.

“I missed you,” he said; as he put his hands on my hips, and bent down to kiss me. As his lips touched mine I interlocked my hands around the back of his neck, gently pulling him towards me. He continued to kiss me, his tongue playing with mine, as my hands started to play with the short hair at the back of his head.

“Yes, I can tell,” I added as the kiss broke, us still embracing, me looking down to lead James’s eyes to where his cock was sticking in my belly. The school trousers doing little to hide his excitement. “I missed you, too,” gently brushing my hand over the front of his trousers.

I led James into the kitchen, “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes. Please. Can I have a cup of tea?” he asked

I paused getting the teabags from the cupboard, “I’ve known you six years, and I have no idea how you have your tea. I’ve never made you one, before.”

James half-laughed. “Well, this is a critical moment in our relationship. I’d never marry you, if you couldn’t make me a decent cuppa!” before I think we both became a bit embarrassed at his marriage comment.

After getting our drinks, I led James into the lounge, and onto the sofa. We made out for so long, my coffee had gone stone cold by the time I came to pick it up.

“Are you staying for some dinner?” I asked, putting my coffee back down.

James picked up his mug, “Depends,” he paused, “Will it be warmer than this tea?” as he pretended to be sickened by it.

“Guess the marriage is off then?” I joked

“Hmm,” James pondered, “I reckon you’re worth a second chance,” he said with a wink. “And I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

We quickly went back to making out, and then eventually established that James was staying for dinner, and that I was cooking some fajitas. I started making them, about half an hour later; leaving James in the lounge to watch TV.

I saw James come into the kitchen out of the corner of my eye, turning my head to give him a smile, and I continued to stir the contents of the frying pan.

“Mmm,” purred James, as he gently placed his hand on one of my bum cheeks, before giving it a squeeze. “I hope you never get bored of me telling you that you have an incredible arse! It’s perfect.” Giving it a playful slap.

I just laughed, and continued cooking.

James shifted his hands until they were both on my hips, before shimmying himself down into a crouched position.

“Ouch!” I cried, “You bit my bum! What are you doing, you looney?”

“Sorry, Babe. It’s just so, mmm.” James replied, standing himself back up.

“I’m trying to cook here; if you could stop eating me,” I jokingly admonished

James, now fully stood, wrapped his hands around my waist, bent down and tenderly kissed my neck. I was immediately taken back to when James first kissed me there, when we were waiting for drinks at the bar. The reaction was the same. My legs went weak; it felt absolutely incredible. I leaned my head to one side, encouraging James to continue. He got the hint, and started to tenderly nibble at my neck, moving one of his hands to caress and gently massage my crotch.

I leant forwards and turned off the hob, turning to face James. “That can wait,” as I edged James and me away from the hot pan, with me leaning back against the worktop.

James, now holding me with both his hands against my waist, leant in to kiss me, as I rubbed up against his upper thigh, him bending his leg for me to use it as a seat to lean against.

“Come here,” I beckoned, as I wiggled out of James grip, and led him back into the lounge, and towards one of the armchairs.

I leant over him where he sat, and started to undo the buttons on his white shirt. Then unbuckled the belt of his black trousers and lowered the zip. His cock springing further forwards, with only his boxer shorts restraining it.

Leaning over to give James a kiss, I wiggled down his body, until I was sat in front of him on my knees. I had no idea what I was doing; I’d gone onto autopilot and was allowing what I wanted to fully control what I was doing. I took the waistbands of James’s trousers and boxers, and started to pull them down towards his ankles, James raising himself off the sofa to help progress.

My autopilot suddenly failed. Conscious reality took over, and I had a mini panic. I had absolutely no idea what I needed to do. I had only ever received one blow job, and that really wasn’t the kind of experience I wanted James to have. It wasn’t up to much. I’ve never really watched much porn, and was becoming anxious I wouldn’t be able to give James what he wanted. I didn’t know what to do. All sorts of random thoughts popped into my head, I was a sissy cocksucker, who couldn’t even suck a cock.

The strangest of thoughts popped into my head. What would Claire do? Perhaps thinking of some advice my Mum had given; although unlikely she expected it to be deployed in this situation. Luckily the thought passed quickly, but I suddenly felt more relaxed. I’m here sat at James’s feet, my head inches from his lap. “Do I want this?” I thought to myself. “Yes, so much!” my head answered. “Well, just work it out? Do what feels good.”

I tipped my head back, to make eye contact with James, who was still smiling in anticipation. I gave a cheeky wink, and slowly licked my lips. Breaking eye contact to lean into his lap, grabbing his hips, as he wiggled his bum a bit further towards the edge of the seat.

His cock was upright in front of me. Just waiting for me. His crotch smelt musty, and a bit sweaty. I started licking his shaft slowly, from bottom to top. Tickling his balls with my tongue, when I got to the bottom, and encircling it around the tip. I was taking the sounds that James made as a sign he was enjoying what I was doing.

From my tongue running circles around its tip, I widened my mouth to accept his cock, as my saliva ran down the length of his shaft. My lips went further down his cock, until I couldn’t fit any more in my mouth. I slowly sucked on James, as he groaned, using this as a sign to go a bit faster, swallowing as much cock as I could, and trying to french kiss it. James was writhing in his seat, and lowered both of his hands to hold the side of my head. I raised one of my arms to rest on James’s bare stomach, the other on the arm of the chair, before slowing once again and rhythmically bobbing up and down, slobbering over James’s cock. I felt James tense up, “I’m going to cum” he said breathlessly, before his cock started to spasm. I eased off, and played with the tip of his cock with my tongue, my lips still around his cock as he exploded into my mouth. Instinctively, I swallowed the thick, warm load that James had just deposited, before I licked his cock clean, maintaining eye contact as I went.

I sat backwards onto my folded legs. James shifting to lift up his trousers.

“Sam,” James said breathlessly, “that was incredible. Come here,” he beckoned for me to come and sit on his lap. “I can’t believe you swallowed.”

I stood, but told James that I’d be back in a moment. I didn’t want to kiss him, with my mouth tasting of his cock. After brushing my teeth and reapplying my lipstick and lip-gloss, James was sat looking like nothing had just happened. He had, however, moved to the sofa

“That was incredible,” he said, as soon as I entered the lounge. “You almost took the full length. Are you going to tell me that’s your first blowjob?” he asked

“What do you mean, of course it was!” I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or not. “I mean, the first one I’ve given.”

By now I had joined James on the sofa.

“I’m just teasing, Babe,” he said, putting one arm around me, and the other on my bare leg. “Seriously, that was the best I’ve ever had,” as he kissed me.

I surprised myself by actually feeling proud of what James was telling me. I tried to stop myself from smiling with pride. “Had many, have you?”
James smiled. “A few. I’ve not been counting.” He reached over, and put his hand up my skirt, gently grasping the band of my knickers with his finger tips.

“You don’t need to do that, not now.” I suggested to James.

“I want to kiss you there,” he replied.

“I’d love you too,” I explained, “But, well, you were a bit, erm, sweaty down there,” James looked a bit confused, “I’ve been tucked away all day. It wouldn’t be pretty. I don’t want you seeing it like that.”

James smiled. “I don’t believe there’s anything about you that isn’t pretty. You could take a quick shower?”

“Your pretty girl, with a dick?” I suggested

“Well, yeah. What do you mean?” James asked

I explained the deal that I’d entered into with my Mum. How I was going to get some counselling to help sort out all of the feelings I’ve been having. From something my Mum had said, I was keen to understand if James fancied me as a boy who looked like a girl, or was he telling himself that I was a girl.

“I’ve not really thought much about it,” James advised. “Sorry. Does that sound really bad?” he paused, “Okay, I’d still fancy you if you weren’t dressed like that. Just look at that photo you sent me earlier, if you crop out the long hair, you look pretty much like you always used to. Really cute. Okay, maybe different eyebrows. Guess I just needed to see you in The Station for me to notice that. I am attracted to girlie girls, so I love how you look after yourself with makeup, sexy dresses and high heels. But I do see you as a boy. Just one that I treat like a girl.” James paused, “I realise why I’d not really thought about this before. It’s hard to get your head around!”

I laughed, “Try not to give yourself a headache thinking about it! Shall we get some dinner?”

“They were really good!” James fed back on the fajitas we’d just eaten.

“Something told me you were enjoying them. I’m not sure if it’s how you haven’t said anything other than groans for the last ten minutes, or how you’ve out eaten me at a rate of two tortillas to one!” I teased. “Thought there might be too much carbs for you!”

“Oh, sorry. They were just really good. Is it your recipe?”

I laughed. “It’s okay. But I was prepared to jab you with my fork if you took one more; I’ve only had an apple to eat today. And no, not my recipe. It’s just what’s printed on the box!”

“Oh, I just remembered,” exclaimed James, before taking something from the back pocket of his trousers, “You wanted to see the invitation to my sisters party, didn’t you?” as he passed me a folded slip of white card.

I hadn’t forgotten. I was, however, kind of hoping that James had. I was hoping he wouldn’t remember he asked me until later in the week, by which time I could more credibly reluctantly decline, as there wasn’t enough notice. I didn’t want to go.

“Your sister knows about us? She knows who I am?” I asked, as I took the invitation and read it to myself.

“Yes. I’m pretty sure my Mum told her.” James replied.

I wasn’t convinced. “Hmm, so you think she knows? I’ll be honest with you James, I don’t think I’d be that comfortable going. I’m not saying your family aren’t lovely, but I think meeting them all at once is a bit too much.”

“That’s cool,” said James, “I’d love to show you off, but I understand what you’re saying. And yeah, most of them are lovely, Uncle Mark and his family are a bunch of chavs, but they won’t be invited. Not after what they did the other Christmas.”

“Thanks James. I suppose us being there could be a bit too much of a curiosity for some folks, and steal some of your sister’s limelight. Would you be able to tell your Mum? I don’t want her thinking I’m rude though.”

James paused before responding, “Can I just tell her the truth?”

“Erm,” I considered the pros and cons of making up some other excuse, “Yeah, just tell her the truth?”

We put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and went into the lounge to watch TV, with me cuddling up to James on the sofa.

“I think I could get used to this. A bit of TV, cuddle with a beautiful girl, a great dinner and a blowjob!” James joked

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Could you imagine if we lived together? We could do this all the time,” James added

I didn’t respond to James hypothetical point. Instead, I just snuggled further into him.

It was quite an early start on Tuesday morning. I’d committed to myself that I was going to follow a normal school day routine, even though I’d be studying on my own. I’d not be doing myself any favours, if I allowed myself long lie ins or spent all morning watching You Tube.

I’d had a decent night’s sleep, after James had left at about 10pm last night; albeit after a bit of encouragement. We had gotten very comfortably snuggling on the sofa, and I think James was prepared to stay the night. I didn’t expect to see him today, as he was going to the gym, as usual on a Tuesday, with Martin and Mike.

On top of the study goals that I’d set myself for the day, number one priority was that I needed to speak to the college admissions office. I also wanted to go for a run; I had realised that I’d not done any exercise for about a week, and was starting to feel a bit lazy. I’d not fancied going to the gym with the others, like I had used to - assuming that the standing invitation was still open.

After making myself a cup of coffee, I studied from my Economics textbook for about an hour, before calling the college. I’d only be registering with them to sit the exams I had been planning on taking at school; I wasn’t going to be attending the college for any classes. After discussing further with my Mum, I wasn’t going to attend their exam revision courses.

“Good morning, Swinley College Admissions. Lyne speaking. How can I help you?” said the cheery voice that answered the phone.

“Morning. My name’s Sam Walker. I’m calling to register for some A-level exams.”

“Okay, Sam. I can help you with that. Do you know what exams you want to sit?”

“Great, thanks. Yes, I do. However, I’m transferring from a local school; they said they’d speak to someone at your end yesterday. Do you know if they did that?” I asked.

“Oh, that would make things a bit easier. I wasn’t in yesterday, as I only work Tuesday to Thursday. Let me just look into that. I’ll be back in two minutes. Just popping you on hold, Sam. Okay?”

I agreed to Lyne’s suggestion, and was put on hold. After less than a minute, Lyne returned.

“Hello, Sam, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Thanks for waiting. Okay, yes, we received an email yesterday afternoon, that lists all the exams you’re currently registered for. It should simply be a case of getting you registered with us as a new student; we’ll then liaise with the examining body to get your exam centre changed. If that’s okay, we can get you registered now?”

“Thanks Lyne. Yes, please, if we can take care of it now, that would be great.”

“Brill. It shouldn’t take too long; just have to enter your details on our system. Just one moment, whilst my computer opens up the right screen. It’s been on a bit of a go slow this morning.”

“Okay,” I answered, just to fill the momentary silence.

“Ah, here we go. Finally loaded,” Lyne went on, as I could hear her typing, “So? Your full name, is Sam short for Samantha?” Lyne asked.

“Er, no, my full name is Samuel John Walker,” I felt embarrassed to correct her.

“Oh,” Lyne briefly paused, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. You’re just, erm, very softly spoken.” Lyne was clearly more embarrassed than me. “I’m so sorry, I should have realised with the email coming from King’s School. I don’t suppose they have many Samantha’s there!” she joked

“It’s okay, Lyne, it’s not a problem. It’s, erm, a bit complicated.”

Without going into my story from the past few weeks, I wanted to let Lyne know her mistaken assumption was completely understandable. I didn’t want this friendly, helpful lady feeling bad. I’d been exclusively using this voice for almost a week. I woke up using it; I was thinking using it and think I was also dreaming with it. I wasn’t even thinking about it, any more.

“That’s okay, Sam. Believe me, life often is!” Lyne went on, “Gender?”

“Male,” I answered, before surprising myself with my own confidence and then asking, “Can that potentially be changed at a later date?”

“Yes, of course, Sam,” Lyne answered, before continuing to work down the form she was completing, “What are your preferred pronouns?”

“Erm, I’m not entirely sure I understand,” I answered, although I was ninety-nine percent sure that I did.

“Oh, okay. Well, it’s what you want to be known by. Our form allows for he, she, they and other. However, I don’t think anyone has ever chosen ‘other’ though, I don’t know what that would be,” said Lyne, clearly smiling from the tone of her voice.

“Erm?” I mumbled.

“It can be completely independent of any other part of the form; if that helps?” suggested Lyne.

“Yes, it does, thanks,” I added, not knowing if Lyne had picked up on my concern that saying anything other than ‘he’ when the gender box had ‘male’ wouldn’t be allowed. “Can you put ‘she’,” I answered.

Lyne then went on to ask for my nationality, ethnicity, contact details, next of kin, educational history and some other much more random feeling details that I couldn’t imagine how a college would ever use.

“Okay, Sam, we’re all done with the form,” Lyne advised, “We’ll process this, and send you all of the on-boarding details in the next few days. If you don’t receive those by this time next week, please give us a call,” Lyne advised, pausing to get my acknowledgement, “You will need to come into the college for ten minutes or so to get an ID card arranged, but as you won’t be sitting your exams for about a month, you don’t need to do that urgently. I’d suggest either popping in a week before your first exam, or get it done sooner, if you want to use any of the college facilities. If that’s okay, I think we’re all done. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thanks for all your help. And sorry for being so difficult.” I said.

“Not at all. You’re welcome. Have a lovely day. Bye bye, and good luck with your exams.”

I said goodbye to Lyne, and immediately went back to my studying. I had worked through a complete chapter of the textbook by midday; ‘The Determinants of Aggregate Demand.” This had left me well ahead of where I had expected and needed to be, and all of the topic material seemed to make sense. Given the good progress, I decided to take a longer break for lunch than I had planned. I’d take a quick run and a shower, in addition to walking Barney and getting some food.

From last Thursday’s shopping trip with Claire, I only had one set of gym wear. I dug that out of the wardrobe that I’d still not properly arranged. As I’d be running on the hard pavements of some quiet streets around the house, I wasn’t going to wear the fashion trainers that we had bought; I needed to wear my running shoes that I spotted were actually good colour match with my leggings and cropped vest top.

I then realised I wasn’t sure if this was what girls wore for running. I’d definitely seen similar outfits worn in the gym, but wasn’t sure if it were suitable. I couldn’t picture what women running wore. I then realised I was worrying, again. “Could I run in it?” I asked myself, and when I answered that it was, I logically reasoned it was indeed suitable. I’d remove my necklace and tie my hair back though; I didn’t want either of those flying in my face on each step.

Having not done any exercise for over a week, my legs took a while to get going and my breathing wasn’t as controlled as it should have been. After about five minutes, I had found my pace, and felt like I was pushing myself, albeit comfortably; I wasn’t in a race, after all.

Despite my hair being tied back, my high pony did swoosh from side to side. Unexpectedly, however, it wasn’t annoying or even distracting. In fact, along with my breathing pattern it acted like some kind of metronome, keeping my running pace steady. My boobs were a different matter. The supposed sports-bra that was built into the vest top was not doing its job. I don’t think it was just that the jiggling and bouncing whilst running was a new sensation to me; I felt like there was too much movement m. I wondered whether the top would be more effective with real boobs, as it obviously wouldn’t have been designed for this situation.

I finished my regular three-and-a-half mile circular route in just over thirty-three minutes; a little bit off my usual nine and a quarter minute mile time. Walking up the driveway back to the house, I was also more tired, and sweatier than usual; despite it being a relatively cool day. “That’s what happens, when you’re lazy for a week,” I told myself.

After downing a glass of tap water, I immediately took Barney out for his walk. It was about a five minute walk to get to the park, just up the main road towards town.

“Beeeep!” went a horn, as a van slowed as it went passed. “You can take me for a walk anytime, love!” shouted the vans passenger, before driving away.

“What does that even mean?!” I thought to myself. “Dickhead!” As I carried on the short walk to the park.

Once through the gates I let Barney off his lead, and he happily bounced off. He was well trained as a puppy, and knew he’d always respond to my calls.

“Hi there,” I heard someone say over my shoulder, “that’s a very handsome labrador you have there.”

I turned to see a middle-aged man enter the park gates behind me, with a german shepherd on a leash. A man, and dog, I’ve seen in this park countless times, over several years of walking Barney here.

“Hi. Thanks,” before turning back towards where Barney was, and walking towards him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you new to the area? I’m Tony, by the way,” said the man, causing me to stop and turn around.

“Sam. And no. I just don’t usually come here at this time,” I replied. Thinking to myself, “I usually come here at about 5pm nearly every day, at around the same time as you; and we have never even acknowledged each other before.” “I must go and make sure Barney isn’t getting into any trouble. Bye,” I said, walking off.

“Bye, Sam,” called Tony.

We stayed in the park for about ten minutes, allowing Barney to pick up all the smells he wanted to find, and play with some of the other more well-behaved dogs.

Walking back down the main road away from town, another van driver was keen for me to know he was a moron, wolf-whistling at me out of his open van window, as he waiting at a red light, on the opposite side of the road. “Need a lift somewhere, gorgeous?”

After drawing my gaze with the whistling noise, I had looked away immediately and now just ignored him, and carried on walking home.

“Stuck-up bitch!” he called out, as the lights changed to green. I continued to ignore him.

“Hmm?” I thought to myself. “Perhaps this is my fault? I am wearing a top with a bare midriff and figure hugging leggings.”

I reflected for one moment, “Nah! They’re just dickheads!” I concluded.

“Beep! Beep!” went my phone, less than two minutes after walking through the front door. It was James.

“Hey Babe! Hope you managed to get through the night without me? ;) XXX”

“Just about! It was touch and go for a while. But, I survived! XX”

“Good! Wish we could do that every night. I told my Mum you won’t be coming on Friday. She was cool. She does, want to say hi. Gave her your number. Hope that’s okay. XXX”

Whether it was okay or not, it was now done. It was however, fine. I had always got on with Emma and Alan. Although, I wasn’t living as a girl, and sleeping with their only son, at the time.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Do you know what she wants? XX”

“Not sure. Sorry. You having a good day? Managed to drag yourself out of bed, and change out of those funny, shrunken pyjamas yet? ;) XXX”

“Funny? You don’t think they’re cute? I’ve been up since seven-thirty, I’ll have you know! I need do get back to study now. Love you! XX”

“I think you’re cute. The pyjamas I can take or leave. Love you too! XXX”

I went back to studying. It was going to be an afternoon of contract law. Maths, Economics and Law. I had no idea what career I wanted, but had decided to study Economics with Law at university.

I was reminded that I had forgotten to put my phone on silent, when it beeped about half-an-hour later. As part of my study routine, I’d told myself that I’d only check my phone on breaks. I couldn’t, however, ignore it now I knew I had a message.

I picked it up off the desk, expecting it to be from an unknown number. I was expecting it to be from Emma. It wasn’t. It was from Ms Greenwood. Sarah.

“Hi Sam. I’ve heard you won’t be coming back to school. I was sorry to hear this. Are you free for a chat, and maybe a coffee? Say, 11am tomorrow? Let me know. X"

“Morning!” beamed my Mum, as we saw each other on the landing, both making our ways towards the top of the stairs. She was far too cheery for this time of the morning, if you were to ask me.

“Mornin’,” I mumbled back, as I started to head down the stairs, my Mum a few paces behind.

“This is very early for you,” commented my Mum, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, thanks,” I continued to mumble, as my Mum followed me into the kitchen.

Everything was okay. However, my mind was playing over some upcoming conversations, and I was allowing them to trigger my anxiety.

I was worrying what Emma, James’s Mum, wanted to talk about. I’d played numerous - perhaps mostly ridiculous - worst-case scenarios over and over in my head. Fruitlessly telling myself to stop being so silly, numerous times.

Then, I had also agreed to meet Sarah for a coffee later this morning. And it was more of the same; playing through elaborate scenarios of what might happen, what might be said, what I’d say in response, what would then happen. All utterly pointless; unless the objective was to make me feel anxious.

“Sorry for getting back so late, last night,” my Mum apologised, “With so many of the Exec team together in person, the evening turned into a bit of an ad hoc board meeting. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I don’t think so. Well, not that I remember, anyway. I was pretty tired last night; and was in bed by ten. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I’m awake now,” looking at my watch to see it was barely just past 6 am.

“Not working too hard, are you?” my Mum asked, as she gestured to ask if I wanted a coffee.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m making good progress though,” I suggested.

“Well, that’s good. And all registered with the college. That’s great. Was it all pretty straightforward?”

My Mum and I had exchanged a few text messages yesterday, so she knew what had been going on. She was also checking in from time to time, to make sure I was okay.

I went on to explain to my Mum some of the details of what I’d discussed with the college’s admissions office, and what would happen next. I told her about the part of the application for that asked for gender and pronouns, and why I had answered what I did.

“Well, that all makes sense to me. I don’t know if the gender would need to tie-back to any ID like a passport they might need to see, but that does say male. And definitely, with the ‘she’ pronoun. It would potentially be a bit awkward to look like you do, and have people calling you ‘he.’ Whilst I think about it,” my Mum went on, “which toilets have you been using?”

I was a bit surprised by my Mum’s question, “I haven’t,” I answered, “I’ve not gone to the loo whilst out.”

“Not when shopping with Claire? Or your date and trip out with James? Wow, I’d have gone at least ten times in that period!” my Mum answered with a laugh.

“It’s not that I didn’t need go. I just held it. I didn’t want to go into the gents like this, and I didn’t think I should be in the ladies.”

My Mum looked at me sympathetically, “Oh Sam, you silly girl. Use the ladies! It’s not safe for you in the gents. You’ll do yourself a mischief holding it in.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“And, as I had mentioned in a message yesterday, Dr Adams is going to give me a call later, to see if she, or one of her colleagues, is able to arrange some chats with you. She did suggest a specialist she knew, that she thought might be better suited for you. I’ll let you know what we discuss.”

“Okay, thanks.”

My Mum left for work soon after. I spent a few more minutes waking up sat in the kitchen, and after finishing my coffee I went back upstairs for a shower. I was meeting Sarah at the Costa just up the road from the school at 11am; I guess she had a free period.

As was becoming the norm, I got my nose into my books. It was back to maths this morning. Mechanics was my least favourite module, behind Pure Maths and Statistics, and I allowed the thoughts on my mind to distract me from the topics of projectiles, acceleration, and whatever else I should have been paying more attention to. Regardless, time still flied, and at about half-past ten, I thought I should think about leaving to meet Sarah.

The temperature outdoors hadn’t heated up through the morning, like I had expected it to when I got dressed at around 7am. It was cloudy, and quite cool. I would need a coat to go with the white vest top and ripped jeans that I was wearing. Although, I didn’t yet have one that I thought was suitable. After unsuccessfully having a look what my sister might have left behind, I checked what my Mum might have.

In her dressing room I found one that I thought might work. It was long and light coloured. After trying it on, it fit pretty well, and luckily wasn’t as warm as I was worried it was going to be. I quickly convinced myself that my Mum wouldn’t mind me borrowing it for an hour or so, and also assured myself that she’d be okay with me also borrowing a handbag that I thought was a good match.

I’d thought about what to wear today for quite a while. Whilst I didn’t fully know what Sarah wanted to meet for, I did know it would be the first time I’d be spending time in the company of a woman who I wasn’t related to, since my coming out. I wanted to look good and nothing like a boy, but I didn’t want to wear a skirt or a dress. I had this strange feeling that I’d be taken for some kind of a fraud, and a real woman would call me out for wearing ‘her’ clothes. It was also occurring to me that I was being stupid, and these thoughts were just the by-product of over thinking those unlikely eventualities.

After waiting about five minutes for a bus, the ten minute long journey saw me dropped off just a stone’s throw from coffee shop. I looked at my watch, and was about five minutes early. I slowly walked past the front of the cafe, trying to look through the window, to see if Sarah was already there. She wasn’t. I went in, and secured what I thought was a good table.

Sarah must have been almost right behind me, for I had not even taken my coat off and sat down, as she entered the cafe. She scanned the room from left to right, and once her eyes locked onto me looking back towards her, she broke into a wide smile. She gave me a brief wave, and then headed over to the table that I had selected.

“Hey hun, how are you doing?” she asked, with an air kiss to one of my cheeks, before indiscreetly scanning me up and down, keeping her wide smile all the time.

“Hun?” I thought to myself.

“Hi Sarah, I’m good. How are you?” I asked.

“Well, upset to be losing my leading lady, but otherwise great. You look good, hun. I love your coat,” said Sarah, as we both sat down. “It looks like a Valentino.”

I was a bit confused. I had thought that Sarah was going to try and convince me to come back to school for the sake of her play. At the least, I thought she’d ask me to fulfil my role in the play, even though I wasn’t a student. She seemed resigned to the fact that I’d not be a part of it. Why exactly we were here, I did not know.

We shared some small talk for several minutes whilst getting some drinks, with Sarah doing most of the talking.

“You know, I do think you owe me, for dropping out of my play,” said Sarah, with a grin.

“Oh yeah?” I enquired

“Well, we won’t get anyone who can fill your shoes. And that role was expanded just for you,” Sarah went on.

“I’m sure you can fill it; I was a complete novice. But how do you mean, expanded?”

“Well,” Sarah paused, “I thought you knew? Did you not see the original script?“

I shook my head.

Sarah smiled, “Lucy was only a walk-on with two lines, before I cast you as her. I expanded it, once I saw how perfect a Lucy you would be. I mean, I didn’t expect you to look quite as gorgeous as you do, but I knew that you’d be pretty.”

I didn’t know what to make of what Sarah was telling me.

“How does being pretty improve the play?” I asked.

Sarah laughed, “It doesn’t. It’s just a school play; with most of the actors only there because they don’t like cricket, or tennis, or any of the other sports they’d be made to play instead. No, this was more me being a bit selfish.”

“Being selfish?”

Sarah nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t feel too guilty though; you must have enjoyed it.”

I was getting a bit lost, and wasn’t entirely sure we were having the same conversation. “Sorry, what were you being selfish about? When you made the role bigger?”

“Well, it was just for my enjoyment, not really for the good of the play. I’ll be straight you with you, Sam. I like pretty boys dressed as girls. And you were very pretty,” said Sarah, placing a hand on a mostly bare knee of my crossed legs.

“Oh,” I replied, shifting to sit more upright, dislodging Sarah’s hand, “I see.”

“Good. So you’ll understand why you dropping out was so disappointing?”

“Erm, yeah, I suppose so,” I replied. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, I can’t even ask you to stay on in the play, for as a non-student you wouldn’t be covered by the school’s insurance. Not that we have accidents, or anything. Hence, why I think you owe me a favour,” said Sarah, with that grin returning.

“Erm, I guess. Maybe.” I offered.

Sarah laughed, “It’s nothing to worry about, Sam! I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner. Maybe this weekend?”

“Oh,” was all I could say.

“It’d be nice to get to know each other better. Don’t you think?” Sarah added.

“Well, if you thought I owed you, why would you get me a dinner?” I asked.

“You’re more than welcome to take me out on a date, Sam,” replied Sarah, still with that grin.

I think I had finally caught up; I was now worrying what I might have said whilst not quite being on the same page as Sarah.

“But, you’re my teacher. I couldn’t,” I argued, trying to say ‘no thanks’ in the politest way I could think.

“Not any more, Sam. What do you say?”

I thought best to double-check I was following correctly. “You mean like a date, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” answered Sarah, clearly a bit surprised that I needed the clarification.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I’m seeing someone,” I advised

“Oh,” said Sarah, with a slight pause, “Someone you’ve been with for a while? Is she okay with how you now look?”

“Erm, no. It’s new, and it’s a boy,” I advised.

“You’re gay? No wonder you didn’t complain about the kiss scene. I didn’t know,” said Sarah, with genuine surprise.

“I wasn’t then. Things have changed quite a bit, lately. And I did complain about the kiss. Quite a bit.”

“Hmm,” mused Sarah, “if you liked girls, you must still do. Don’t you fancy me, Sam? Don’t you think I know most of the boys do?”

“Erm, Sarah,” I paused, not knowing what to say, “I think I should go,” as I stood and picked up my coat from the arm of the chair.

Sarah reached out and gently grabbed my arm, “Call me, Sam.”

“Bye,” I simply said, as I walked out.

My head was awash with thoughts. I was in shock that my old teacher, the director of the play, seemed to now fancy me and expected me to feel the same way for her; but more so, shocked that she felt so comfortable being so upfront about it. So pushy about it.

I reached the bus stop, and carried on walking. I didn’t want to be stood waiting in sight of the coffee shop. I’d expect Sarah would see me when she left, and would try to offer me a lift. Speaking to her again didn’t appeal to me. I walked towards the next stop. Before I knew it, about 45 minutes had passed, and I was home.

“Should I tell someone about this?” I thought to myself, “Has she done something wrong?”

I convinced myself that she was simply asking someone out on a date. My surprise to receive that offer didn’t make it wrong. She wasn’t dangerous. I decided that I’d just forget about it.”

“Can I give you a call? Something a bit weird happened this morning. X” read my message to Claire.

I’d been unable to concentrate since getting back from my coffee with Sarah. I’d taken Barney for a short, fifteen minute walk, skipped lunch and then tried to continue my studying. I was finding myself reading the same paragraphs over and over, and each time wouldn’t have been able to recall much of the material.

It may have been that I was doing my favourite time-wasting activity of over thinking things that just weren’t there. I’d tried to take what Sarah had presented to me at face value, and tried to reconcile whether she was just doing what she thought was a reasonable thing to do. It just didn’t sit right with me.

“Beep! Beep!”

“You okay? I’m in a seminar for another half an hour, but I’ll come out of it if you need me to. X” Claire replied within two minutes of me sending my message.

I messaged Claire back and told her that it wasn’t urgent. There was no emergency, no one was in any immediate danger, nothing bad was about to happen. Me being so distracted as to not being able to determine how far a projectile of mass X, launched at an angle of Y would travel, was not sufficient for Claire to leave her class.

Claire called me back at one minute after the hour, clearly as soon as her class had ended. I explained what had happened during my catch-up with Sarah. How it sounded like she’d cast me because I was pretty, how she’d grown the role because I was better than she’d expected, how she was attracted to boys dressed as girls, how she thought I owed her, how she’d asked me out and how she’d suggested that I must fancy her, because most the students did. I downloaded the event, and then waited for Claire’s feedback.

“That’s fucked up!” Claire announced.

“Maybe I’ve not retold the events without my bias? Perhaps I even misunderstood what was going on,” I suggested

“Sam, I’m not sure how much bias you could have applied. It would have to have been a shit load, for your teacher to have not been taking the piss!” Claire didn’t mince her words.

“Well, maybe, but she’s not my teacher anymore. In fact, apart from the play, she’s not been a teacher of mine for a few years,” I offered

“If she had suddenly, out of nowhere, had all these thoughts over night, then okay, maybe. However, we’re not morons. She was a in a position of authority over a minor, and it sounds like she has been manipulating you. Sam, this is borderline grooming!”

I worried that perhaps I had given Claire a false view of what had happened at the coffee shop. Whilst I had felt uncomfortable, I had not felt in danger, or that I was being forced to do something I didn’t want to. After all, Sarah didn’t get angry or aggressive.

“You need to talk to Mum,” Claire went on, “this is above my pay-grade as a sister!”

Claire and I chatted about a few random things for a few minutes, before saying goodbye. It was early afternoon, and I was suddenly quite hungry.

The urge to learn more about vectors, collisions, dynamics and kinematics was too great, and after making myself a sandwich, I immediately went back to my studying. The material was sinking in a little bit better than it had been; after reflecting a bit more on my earlier encounter with Sarah, and getting to a more comfortable position.

Just as I was getting back into the swing of studying, I was distracted by my phone; that I had once again forgotten to turn to silent. I didn’t have the senders number saved in my phone, but the message made it clear who it was from.

“Hi Sam, it’s Emma. James’s Mum. He passed on that we won’t see you on Friday. That’s a shame, but we completely understand. We’re having a barbecue on Sunday. You’re very welcome, James will give you the details. It’d be great to see you. X”

I chose to not respond to the message, and would speak to James first. Emma had sent an SMS, so she’d not be able to see that I’d read her message. I didn’t want her to think I was being rude, by not replying to a message I had seen. I went back to my studies.

“Barney! Walkies!” I shouted, about ten minutes later. I guess the mysteries of the dynamics of connected particles would have to stay a mystery for a little while longer. My head wasn’t as clear as I had first thought.

“Hi there, Sam,” said a man’s voice, as I sat on a park bench, watching Barney explore all the scents around the open area.

I looked up, shielding my brow from the glare of the afternoon sun breaking through the cloudy sky, “Oh, hi,” I paused, not recalling the name of the owner of the german shepherd, who had recently introduced himself.

“Tony,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, of course,” I added.

“It’s okay, I’d not remember me, either,” he said with a half laugh.

I smiled.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the opposite end of the bench that I was sat at.

“Erm, no. It’s not my bench,” I half joked.

The man took a seat, as far to his side of the bench as possible. I don’t think his far leg was even over the seat.

“They’re a good idea, these benches. Don’t you think?” he quite randomly said, watching his own dog run about.

I wasn’t sure what to say, “Yeah, benches in parks, great idea,” I thought to myself. Then, I suddenly twigged. I had chosen to sit at one of the “Happy to Chat” benches.

“Yeah, they are. I suppose,” I offered, realising my mistake in sitting here.

“People can think you’re a bit crazy if you just start chatting to a stranger. At least these benches remove some of that,” Tony went on.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” I said, thinking how I could politely make my escape.

“Bit of a turn in the weather today; they said it might even rain later. It’s been so nice though, hasn’t it? Said it might come back for the weekend though,” Tony offered the standard weather-based chat.

“Oh, that’ll be good. I think I’m going to a barbecue on Sunday,” I replied, surprising myself with my continuation of the conversation.

“That sounds nice. Fingers crossed,” said Tony, “Do you come here often?” he asked, before quickly stumbling to clarify, “Sorry! I don’t mean, you know, like that. I’m not trying to chat you up. I’m not a creep. I promise.”

I laughed, and Tony followed.

“That’s okay. I come here most days, usually just a quick walk around with Barney. You?” I asked

“I come here a few times each day. I live just around the corner, and Jasper requires so much exercise,” Tony replied, pointing towards his large dog. “I thought I’d met most of the regulars that come here; chatted with many of them. Not the youngsters though; not only are they playing on their phones all the time, I’d not want to be known as the guy who talks to kids in the park!”

We laughed again.

“No, probably not a good idea,” I agreed.

We chatted small-talk for a few minutes. Like most conversations with strangers, we didn’t really talk about anything at all. I told Tony that I was studying for some exams and he told me that he was a copywriter and mostly worked from home. I didn’t know what a copywriter did, but just nodded politely.

“Well, it was lovely meeting you again, Sam. Must get back to work. Bye for now,” as he got up to leave.

“Bye, Tony. Thanks for the chat,” as I stood, and called Barney to come.

By the time I got home I felt ready for some proper study time. I felt guilty that the gains over the past few days had now pretty much been wasted. The usual school day would soon be coming to an end, and I had covered just a third of what I had planned to. I committed to work later into the evening, to catch up.

“Ding! Dong!” went the door bell. It was about 5pm, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

Looking out of the window gave no clues as to who it might be. There were no vehicles on the driveway, nor could I see any that I didn’t recognise parked on the street. I guessed it was someone either delivering or selling something.

“Hey babe!” beamed James, as soon as I opened the door, stepping forwards to hold me by my hips, and bending down to gently kiss me.

Without breaking the kiss, I urged James into the hallway, pushing the door shut behind him with my foot. The kiss quickly got more passionate, as I stroked my hands through the short hair at the back of James neck.

When our lips parted, and still embracing each other, “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“To see you!” James simply answered.

“A bit of a warning would have been nice, I must look a mess,” I suggested.

“You look beautiful. Perfect as always!” argued James, as we broke the embrace, me taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you park on the drive? I asked.

“I forgot, he simply answered, “Have you done something to your hair?”

“Oh,” I said, fingering the small plait that I’d been playing with earlier, “No, just messing about.”

As he sat at one of the barstools, I stood in front of him, between his spread legs. With him linking his arms around my back, I placed my arms over his shoulders, bending down to kiss him. His hands slipping down to massage my bum, as I ground my thigh into his crotch, moaning my pleasure.

“Are you staying for a bit?” I whispered into his ear.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded.

“My Mum won’t be home for a couple of hours,” I continued in the whisper.

James startled me by jumping up onto his feet, before scooping me up into his arms as if I was weightless. With us both giggling he carried me, as if over the threshold, back into the hall way, up the stairs towards my bedroom.

“Ha ha!” I laughed, “I’ve never been used as battering ram, before!” joking with James about him using my bare feet to push the bedroom door open.

He more carefully lowered me onto my bed, joining me as we continued to passionately kiss and massage each other’s bodies. James started to remove my clothes; first lifting up my vest top over my head and then undoing the button and zip of my jeans, as I knelt on the bed. Leaning backwards and swinging my legs around, to allow James to slide the jeans down my legs.

He crawled back up the bed from my feet, twisting his fingers around the band of my knickers, slowly teasing them down my legs.

“Have you got two pairs of knickers on?” James asked, a bit confused.

I laughed, “Kind of. It, erm, is a bit different. It’s there too keep it tucked away. “Let me,” as I reached down and released myself from the gaff, James then pulling it down with my panties, releasing my erect cock with a spring.

“Erm,” James went on, “Sam? Where are your balls?” he asked, with some concern in his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s fine,” I giggled, to ease James’s concern, “They’re, well, they’re pushed up. Hang on,” as I adjusted myself to put my scrotum back to its usual position. “I’ve ruined the moment, haven’t I?”

“What? No! Not at all,” James argued. “If anything, it’s my fault. I knew you must have been doing something down there; I just hadn’t really thought about what. Sorry,” he said, crawling back up the bed, to give me a kiss, before sliding back down, and kissing the tip of my still hard cock.

Taking me tenderly in his mouth, he got straight into tickling my shaft with his tongue, before starting to slowly suck on it. In what felt no time at all, “Oh! James! Oh! Oh! James. I’m gonna, oh! I’m nearly there,” before exploding into his mouth.

“James, that was amazing,” as I writhed on the bed, running my hands through my hair, and stretching out to touch James. “Did you,” I paused, “swallow it?”

James sheepishly nodded, with a grin. “Yeah. I’ve always liked it when girls swallowed mine. You know? It wasn’t that bad.”

I laughed, and James joined in.

“So, whilst my education is on a steep learning curve, what are you doing here,” he asked, having returned his head to the pillow, and squeezing one of my boobs through my bra.

I shifted myself up, to be sitting upright on the bed. Reaching both my hands behind my back, undoing my bra and slipping the straps off my shoulders and down my arms. I was sat on my knees facing James; it was the first time that I’d been fully naked with him. Well, except for the fake boobs.

“Wow! You have an incredible body. But, well, I know you’ve not had a boob job. Well, I don’t think so! So, where did these come from?” he asked, facing me on his knees and taking my boobs in his hands.

I laughed, “Well, they are fake tits, but no, I’ve not had a boob job. Don’t tease me!”
I mock hit James. “They’re glued on, and then there’s special makeup that blends them in,” pointing out the seams to James.

“Can you feel this?” James asked, massaging my boobs, and running his thumb gently around the nipples in tiny circles

“I can feel the pressure, but not the sensation, no. Do you like them? I replied.

“They’re amazing. They look so real, and feel so good,” as he continued to gently stroke them, leaning in for a kiss, that became more passionate until I rolled over and assumed the position to show James that I wanted him to make love to me.

A few minutes later we were both lying on our backs, panting heavily. After sharing a few more kisses and tender touches. “I’m going to grab a shower,” I said, James nodding to acknowledge that he’d heard me. “Care to join me? If, of course, you think you’re up to it, big boy?” I said with a wink, James springing up from the bed and chasing me towards the en-suite bathroom, me squealing as I darted through the door.

“There you go, honey,” I said, passing James a mug of tea, after we’d made our way back downstairs.

“Cheers, babe,” as he took the mug and placed it on the side table, “Has my Mum spoke to you yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for the reminder. I was going to speak to you about that. She messaged me earlier. She said that they’re having a barbecue on Sunday?” I replied, as I say on the sofa next to James.

“Did she?” asked James, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come. Fancy it?”

“Erm, maybe. Who is going?” I asked.

“Just Mum, Dad, my sister, her fiancé and his parents. I think my auntie, uncle and a couple of cousins might be coming; whilst they’re down for weekend. Not a big crowd. So?” James said.

“Yeah, sounds nice. As long as you look after me!” I smiled.

“Always, babe,” as James turned to give me a sweet, quick kiss.

“Beep! Beep!”

“Eh? What’s that?” I thought to myself, as I slowly woke from my light sleep.

My alarm clocks illuminated display showed that it was just past midnight. With my phone set not to disturb me during the night, I was confused as to why a message alert had woken me. My sleepiness wasn’t helping me think straight.

I reached over to where the now brightly-lit phone was charging, on top of my bedside table.

“You nasty little bitch!” read the message previewed on the home screen, shocking me into a more fully awake state.

“What the fuck? Six messages?!” realising that the multiple messages from the same sender had overridden the do not disturb function. They had all been sent by Sarah.

Scrolling through the messages, she had sent the first one almost an hour ago. About fifteen minutes after I’d gone to bed.

“I thought you were going to give me a call? X” That first message read.

Fifteen minutes later, at about 11pm, “Why haven’t you called me? X”

Over the next hour, the messages had come through at about fifteen minute intervals.

“You’re such a tease! Getting me all excited in your sexy fuck-me pumps and low-cut top. Now you’re ignoring me? Call me! X”

“After all I’ve done for you. You owe me, Sam! You can’t treat me like this.”

“Too busy with your new boyfriend? You dirty sissy faggot!”

“I’m not having some queer cocksucker femboy treating me like this. You’re going to regret this!”
I was shaking. I didn’t know what to do. It was the middle of the night, but my mind was racing, almost as fast as my heartbeat.

I didn’t know what I was doing, but I got up and opened my bedroom door, and stepped out onto the dark landing. I didn’t have a plan.

There was a light coming from under the door of my Mum’s study, gently illuminating a strip of the carpet at the other end of the dark corridor.

I gently knocked on the closed door, my toes now caught in the light escaping from the room. I was hoping that my Mum was still up, and hadn’t just forgotten to turn a light out.

“Yeah?” called a voice from the other side of the closed door.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” I said, as I walked through the door into my Mum’s study.

“Yes. I was on a call with Adam. He’s just moved to Indonesia, to take on the GM role there. What’s up?”

I think my Mum thought I must have known who she was talking about. We had probably met, and had likely been introduced. Maybe even more than once. That meant nothing. Apart from her PA and EA, I had never managed to remember anyone that she worked with.

“Are you free now? Or going on another call?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was just logging off. I was about to go to bed. What’s up, honey?” she asked.

I went through with my Mum what I had discussed with Claire earlier, about the exchange I’d had with Sarah in the coffee shop. And then what Claire had shared as her view on the events she’d heard described.

“Sam, I’m inclined to think Claire was perhaps spot on. This doesn’t sound right. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” my Mum asked.

We had had quite a long chat over dinner. James had left about an hour before Mum had got home from work at around 7pm, and over the dinner that I had prepared we discussed what she had spoken about with Dr Adam’s. The long and short of that was that I was booked in to meet with a Dr Phillips, a gender counselling specialist, next Monday.

“Well,” I paused, “I thought it was perhaps an overreaction or just my misinterpretation of what had gone on. I thought it would just, erm, go away.”

“And?” my Mum asked, “And now what? You’ve changed your mind?”

“Well,” I went on, “It hasn’t gone away. It’s actually got a bit weirder.”

I showed my Mum the six messages that Sarah had sent.

“Oh,” my Mum paused, “This woman clearly has some issues. What is likely late night drinking on her own, is probably only one of them. We’ll sort this out tomorrow. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about right now. Okay?”

“Erm,” I replied, as I paused to look down at my bare feet.

“Go on, Sam,” encouraged my Mum, “What is it?”

“I’m a bit worried that I think she has a key to the house,” I said, not looking up.

I explained how my school bag was still with her at school, and how I’d not yet picked it up after having it locked in the gymnasium. It only contained some books, stationery, my old school uniform, some makeup, Claire’s robe, my bus pass, bank card and house key. I explained how I’d not needed any of those things; I was using the spare key and had been able to use my phone to get some cash out of the ATM.

“Were you avoiding seeing her, to collect your stuff?” my Mum asked.

“No. Not really. I mean, I didn’t really want to go into school dressed like, well, you know. But I wasn’t avoiding her. Not then. I was just, erm, being a bit lazy. I guess.”

“Okay,” my Mum reassured. “Look, I don’t think there is anything to worry about. This woman has likely just had a few too many glasses of wine, and has just temporarily forgotten herself. She probably doesn’t even know she had your key, let alone would consider using it. She’s probably fallen asleep now.”

The timing couldn’t have been scripted better.

“Beep! Beep!”

“You’ll fucking regret messing me around like this!” read the latest message from Sarah.

“So, she’s not yet asleep. But still, don’t worry. Just turn your phone off for now,” my Mum advised.

“Should I block her number?” I asked

My Mum paused for a moment. “I don’t know. I’d say leave it for now. If this woman’s going to keep digging a hole for herself, then let her. Just ignore the messages.”

I nodded my agreement.

“Look,” my Mum said, “If you’re worried, I’ll make sure the house is fully locked down. Key or not, no one can get in then. Not that I’m in any way suggesting that’s what this woman wants to do; I really do think she’s just a pathetic drunk idiot. I will, however, message the security company and ask them to do a couple of drive passes through the night,” my Mum said, “We pay them enough, we may as well use them for once. And Sam, if I thought there was genuinely something to worry about; I’d be calling the police.”

We’d had access to the security for as long as I could remember. I think it first went back to when my dad was appointed as CFO of a large multinational company. Not that they thought it was likely, but I understood he was advised that he was a potential target for all sorts of financial crimes and threats of violent coercion, that I didn’t quite understand.

My Mum took care of speaking to the security company, and double-checking that the security system was working as it should. We wished each other a goodnight with a hug, and went back to bed. I didn’t, however, get back to sleep.

It was about 2am, far too early for a rising sun to be starting to brighten the sky. It was, instead, the powerful security lights on the front driveway that were shining through the gaps in my curtains. Despite my still somewhat upset state, I told myself that it would just be a cat setting them off, or maybe one of the foxes that had been recently knocking over the bins.

I then heard something that sounded like a mumbling voice, and the handle of the locked front door being repeatedly tried. I was too scared to look out of my bedroom window down towards the driveway, and just sat upright in my bed. My Mum must have heard it too, as it must have been her that set off the panic alarm a few moments later.

With the shrill alarm reverberating around the house, my Mum came into my room. “It’s okay, honey,” as she sat on my bed and gave me a hug. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, and no one can get in the house. The police and the security firm will be here soon; they pick up the alarm.”

My Mum stood, and went to the window, looking to see if it was the police or the security guards that would arrive first.

“Fucking hell!” she cried. “It’s your bloody sister!”

“What?” I cried back, as we both headed downstairs, my Mum pausing to cancel the panic alarm as she went. Albeit, too late to prevent a police car pulling into the driveway.

“Well, that was a bit embarrassing,” my Mum admitted, entering the lounge after explaining to the police that she had essentially set off a panic alarm, because her daughter couldn’t open the front door.

“What are you doing back here? In the middle of the night?” my Mum asked of Claire.

“Oh, nice to see the both of you, too,” Claire sarcastically replied, “I’m just back to pick up some clothes.”

My Mum and I were left a bit confused by Claire’s answer; she must have picked up on that

“It’s all very last minute, but Amy has invited a few of us to her family apartment in Mallorca for a couple of days. We only sorted it out late this evening; we fly out at ten tomorrow after finding some cheap flights. I need some clothes. However, this really isn’t the biggest question, is it? Why is the door double-locked? Why did you call the police?”

My Mum and I explained to Claire that it was related to some threatening text messages received from Sarah. How we really didn’t think that there was any credible threat, and how we were being over cautious; if only to allow us to get some sleep that night. A plan that was now long out of the window.

“Erm,” Claire paused.

“What is it?” my Mum asked.

“Well,” Claire went on, “It’s probably not related, but, erm, when I turned into the driveway, there was a woman stood on the other side of the road. I thought she was looking at the house, and turned away when my car approached. I didn’t think anything of it though.”

“Right,” said my Mum, “It could, of course, be completely unrelated. I will however, tell the security company. I’m also going into your old school tomorrow; we’ll get your stuff and I’ll have a word with the head teacher.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” I asked.

“No, I’ll go,” suggested Claire.

“No. Thanks. To both of you. I don’t want you seeing this woman, Sam. And Claire, it sounds like you have a holiday to get to. My driver will be with me.”

“I’m sorry Mum. I’m causing so much hassle right now,” I said.

“Don’t be silly, Sam,” my Mum reassured, “None of this is your fault. And anyway, you’ve got a long way to go before the number of sleepless nights spent worrying about you, get anywhere close to those caused by your sister here!” she joked.

“Ha, fucking, ha!” Claire responded.

Claire headed off soon after; once she had picked up the clothes that she had dropped by to collect. Mum and I went back to bed, for a third time.

The following morning, my Mum headed off to the school around 8am. Her driver had been waiting in the lounge, watching TV and drinking tea since about 6am; the time that she was due to be heading off to meetings. I don’t think that he was complaining.

My Mum returned home around 45 minutes later. She had seen and spoken to the headmaster. Apparently, upon seeing the messages and hearing what had been said, he understood the problem; but had initially suggested it wasn’t a school issue, as I was no longer a student. Whilst my Mum told me that she understood that, she had told him that the teacher’s coercive behaviour had started whilst I was a seventeen year old student at his school, and that it would be his school that the police would be visiting, to speak to Sarah. It sounds like he saw things more so from my Mum’s perspective, after her thinly veiled threat.

He had walked my Mum and her driver to Ms Greenwood’s office and in her absence found my possessions. She had called in sick earlier that morning. The head teacher assured my Mum that he would be talking to Ms Greenwood, and shared his opinion that he doubted we’d be hearing from her again. When I looked in my bag, all of my stuff appeared to be there.

“Could she have copied my keys?” I asked my Mum.

“Right, let’s not allow ourselves to get too carried away. Okay? And anyway, no, she can’t get those keys copied. You need a security code to get copies made,” my Mum replied. “I’m going to work from today, okay?”

“You don’t need to do that,” I suggested.

My Mum’s mind was, however, made up. She told her driver that he could go, and headed up to her office. “Haven’t you got studying to be getting on with?” she called to me, from halfway up the stairs.