“Hey, fellow teenager!” Suriya giggles as she answers her front door and ushers me into her home.

“Your birthday was three days ago, you can’t celebrate it for the whole week!” Priya laughs at her younger sister.

"I should get going," I sigh as I watch the clock tick over to 9pm. "Flatmates get kinda paranoid about leaving the front door unlocked this late..."

"Well, that makes me feel all the better about you travelling on the tube this late," mum sighs as I grab my backpack and head to the front door. "Are you SURE you don't want to stay over tonight, Steve?" I sigh again as I catch a glance of my make-up free, unshaven face in the hallway mirror.

"Nah... Need to be up early tomorrow," I say.

I didn't used to be a girl with a bright future.
I used to be a "loser" at West High.
I used to be a boy named Martin Rawlings.
This is my story.

This is a story set in the 1800’s about a family that has lost every family member except the youngest son and his twin sister. Then his sister dies of smallpox and he manages to persuade his mother to let him become his deceased sister.

I see my vision grow brighter and brighter as a white void surrounds us. Out of nowhere a bed and hanging linen comes to view out of the corner of my eye. White silk sheets and cashmere cover the huge bed. I’m not sure if we moved, or everything around us did, but I feel like we are nowhere near the pond. We both fall into the bed brought before us. It’s cushion is silent, but it caresses us like nothing mortal.

Twenty seven days later.

The past month or so has been pretty uneventful, a short stop in India, a lot of boring days at sea. Oh, a lot of the guys heard of my night of escapades and give me looks of disbelief about that. We are now almost near the Middle East, getting ready to sail through the Strait of Hormuz in a few days.

Ever since that night, I’ve found myself day dreaming of such wonderful sex, God I hope to see soon.

I didn't used to be a girl with a bright future.
I used to be a "loser" at West High.
I used to be a boy named Martin Rawlings.
This is my story.

Right, it’s now or never. Everything’s prepared. I have to tell my parents that I’m a girl. I can’t live like this any longer. The bag is packed and all my cash is in it in case things turn ugly.

"Come on, Steve!" My mum yells, waking me from a fitful sleep. "You don't want to be late on your first day at your new job, do you?"

"Steve?" My mum calls me from downstairs. "We're heading out now. Don't forget you've got that job interview later on today!"

"I won't forget," I shout back from under my bed covers.

"Well you'll need to hurry up and get dressed for it!" Mum yells back before heading out of the front door.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” I say happily, clinking my wine glass with that of the sexy guy opposite me. I’m dressed in a short, slinky black dress, translucent seamed stockings and extra-high heels (much to my boyfriend’s chagrin), whilst the handsome man opposite me is wearing a smart suit with a bright white shirt and a plain grey tie.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Stuart says, sipping his wine with one hand whilst his other hand links his fingers with mine. “This is absolutely PERFECT.”