Authors note: Here is the next installment of Cara's saga. Please, please, please don't read this if you haven't read the first eight parts. Sorry that all the parts are so long, but if you take time to read them, I hope you will enjoy this tender and gentle story. If you have read the first eight parts, you may want to reread them or at least read the end of the last chapter as this kicks off straight where you were left hanging. Thanks. All comments and feedback are most welcome.

 

No Half Measures

by Jenny Walker

© 2003

 

Part 9

CHAPTER 17

 

I walked out onto the stage to rapturous applause. The lights went up and nearly blinded me. Through the glare, I could just about make out the sea of faces and bodies that had packed the auditorium. The heat from the lighting was overwhelming. I felt myself begin to perspire. Jon walked over to me. "Are you sure you are OK?" he shouted into my ear, "You look awful." I swallowed and murmured, "I'll be alright." I didn't feel alright though. I walked over to my microphone stand, forced a smile and waved at the crowd. I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me and it was all I could do to stop myself from grimacing. I heard Kevin count the band in and the music started. The stage began to spin and I heard a voice that sounded like mine say, "I'm gonna be sick." The lights began to fade and Jon rushed over to me as I swayed, "Cara? Cara?"

"Cara? Cara, are you OK?" It wasn't Jon, it was Claire. I wasn't on stage, I was in bed. I did feel sick though and promptly threw up in the dish that Claire was holding in front of me. I was in the clinic.

"Are you OK?" she repeated softly.

I shuddered as another wave of nausea passed over me. I pushed my hair back from my face and grabbed the dish as I was sick again. After a few more retches, I lay back on the bed and enjoyed a temporary respite from the debilitating nausea. I groaned and croaked, "I want to die."

Claire smiled sympathetically and wiped my brow, "Don't be silly. It's just the after effects of the anaesthetic."

"What time is it?" I asked groggily.

"It's just after lunch. I thought you were awake earlier, but you were only semiconscious."

I shifted my position on the bed and another sensation entered my realm of newfound consciousness: pain. "Ow," I murmured. It wasn't excruciating, but there was a dragging sort of discomfort coming from my chest.

"Sore?" Claire asked.

"A little. Not too bad." I paused, "Did everything go OK?"

Claire nodded and smiled, "Yes. I was talking briefly to Mr. Stretton. He said the surgery couldn't have gone any better."

I nodded and forced a wan smile, "Good. Can I go home now?"

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Claire humoured me and laughed, "Maybe later sis."

I looked down at my chest and there were two large mounds there. I peeped inside my gown, but my view was obstructed by a bandage.

"No peeking yet," Claire said with a twinkle in her eye, "All in good time." She turned to the table behind her and picked up a glass, "Want a sip of water?"

I did. My throat felt like a desert that was crying out for rain. I took a sip gingerly and then took another drink. I left it at that as I felt the demon of nausea begin to raise its horns again. I lay back on the bed, but before long had to reach for the dish again as I promptly returned the water I had consumed to the outside world once more. When it settled, I flopped back on the bed, "I feel like total crap."

Claire squeezed my hand, "Want me to call Marie and see if there is anything they can do to make you feel better?" I nodded and she slipped out. Marie came and made all the right sympathetic noises and asked how I was feeling. I didn't try to hide how bad I was feeling, I didn't think I could. She gave me an injection into my IV cannula. I asked what it was and she told me it was cyclimorph. It would ease the pain and nausea and perhaps let me get some sleep. I was sceptical, but was thankfully proved wrong as I felt myself drifting off to sleep before too long. I spent most of the rest of Sunday drifting in and out of sleep and wasn't too aware of my surroundings or of what was going on.

 

----------*----------

 

The next morning when I awoke, I felt one hundred percent better. It wouldn't have been hard given how I had felt the day before. My head felt fuzzy and my stomach wasn't on the best terms with the rest of my body, but it had called a temporary ceasefire it seemed. The discomfort in my chest was more marked. Given the choice, I would take pain and discomfort over the nausea any day.

"Morning Cara," Marie breezed in. "How are you today?"

I smiled, less forced than yesterday. "Much better. A little sore, but not too bad."

She nodded and asked tentatively, "Want to try a little breakfast?" She saw the expression on my face, "I think you should try to eat something. You won't feel better until you do." We compromised with me agreeing to try some tea and toast. I felt a little rise of nausea as I ate, but thankfully it didn't come to anything and I managed to keep my breakfast down. When Marie came back in to take the breakfast things away, I couldn't keep myself from asking, "Umm Marie? When do the bandages come off?"

She smiled warmly, "Can't wait to see Mr. Stretton's handiwork?" She sat down beside me, "You do realise that things will be badly bruised for several days and won't look anything like you expect? And the scars will have to heal?"

I nodded, "I know, I was just wondering. Oh, where are the scars? I remember he said beforehand that they could either be under the breasts, in the armpit or around the nipples. What did he do in the end?"

"The scars are under your breasts and if Mr. Stretton's previous work is anything to go by, in a week or two you will find it hard to see where they were. The large bandage will come off tomorrow morning and we will see how things are at that time. For now, I think we should get you up out of bed and onto your feet and get a little wash, no?"

With Marie's help, I tentatively found my feet and realised that I hadn't lost the power of locomotion despite my fears. I washed my face and felt much better for it. Any movement did aggravate the discomfort in my chest, but it really wasn't that distressing. I mentioned this to Marie, "I thought I would be in more pain afterwards."

"The anaesthetist performed what is called a rib block. He injected some local anaesthetic around the nerve roots that supply the skin and subcutaneous tissues of the chest. You probably feel a bit numb there. But I am afraid it will probably begin to wear off later today." She was right, I did feel numb on my chest now that she mentioned it. I hadn't really noticed it until now. The prospect of it wearing off was a little disconcerting, but Marie assured me that I could get painkillers later if needed. After washing I wanted to get back into bed, but Marie was having none of it. She made me change into a fresh nightdress and encouraged me to do something with my hair, maybe add a little makeup and then to sit in the chair and either read or watch TV. She smiled and told me I had to make myself feel human again. I took her word for it and did as she advised.

Claire arrived in midmorning and I was delighted to see her. I couldn't bear thinking about how I would have felt if I was here alone. I was really grateful for her presence and told her so.

"Pffft," she said as she waved a hand in my general direction, "You would do the same for me." I hoped that I would. She went on, "You're looking great, how do you feel?"

"Much much better," I said with feeling. We chatted and read, watched some TV – thank goodness for cable that provided channels in English. The few Swiss channels that we flicked through didn't appear too inspiring. At lunchtime I managed a light salad and at dinnertime I actually felt the faint stirrings of hunger returning like a long lost friend. The chicken and pasta bake that I was given tasted like the most delectable food on earth. The discomfort had built up throughout the day as Marie had predicted and I gladly availed myself of the proffered analgesics.

 

----------*----------

 

"Now, let's have a look," Marie said brightly. I had just finished breakfast and apparently it was time to remove the bandages and see what lay beneath. I had a strange mixture of feelings as Marie began to remove the bandages. A bit of apprehension and fear, but also the feeling that a young child gets as they strip the wrapping paper from a present wondering what will be inside. Wisely Marie had encouraged me to take some painkillers at breakfast in anticipation of this moment. It was uncomfortable. At last the bandages were off and I found myself looking at my breasts. My very large breasts. There was a fair amount of bruising, but nonetheless, I was looking at a shapely bosom. I was a bit perturbed at the size of them. Marie noticed.

"What's wrong Cara?"

"Uhh, I was just wondering, they seem a bit bigger than what I was expecting?"

She nodded, "There is some swelling as a reaction to the surgery. It will settle in the next few days. Now let me look at the scars. I am going to have to lift each breast up in turn and it may be a little painful." She was right. It was quite uncomfortable, but I gritted my teeth. When she was done she nodded, "Everything is coming along fine, I have rubbed a little antiseptic cream onto the wounds and covered them with gauze. Now, you get to wear your first bra for your new breasts, but I am afraid it is not the most fashionable." She showed me the surgical bra which looked like an unrefined reinforced harness. She helped me slip it over my head and gently placed my breasts into the cups. She assured me that it was required for just a few days until the swelling went down and to let the wounds to continue to heal.

Claire joined me before long and we spent another long day chatting and watching TV. Time was beginning to drag and I apologised to Claire that she had to spend a week of her leave in such a boring fashion. She again told me not to worry about it. I knew she was keen to see my new breasts and she dropped hints accordingly. I smiled and firmly told her that she could see them in a few days perhaps once things had settled down. I was beginning to go stir crazy in this room and when Marie came in later that afternoon, I almost began to plead with her.

"Marie, I'm going crazy here. Is there any way I can get out of here for some time tomorrow?"

She laughed and nodded, "I'm sure we can accommodate that." With what I was paying for this, I was sure they could too. She continued, "If you want, you could go out with Claire for a few hours tomorrow, maybe go out for lunch if you wanted?" It sounded good to both of us and was the only thing that kept me sane for the rest of the day.

 

----------*----------

 

Wednesday was a glorious clear and sunny winter's day and I was itching to get out of the clinic. However Marie wasn't going to be rushed. Again she inspected the wounds and seemed most pleased. "You are healing very well. I should think that you could wear an ordinary support sports bra by tomorrow after your stitches are removed by Mr. Stretton."

It was pure joy to get dressed in normal clothes. Even though it was just a simple blouse and pair of jeans. Marie warned me not to overdo it. If I walked too much, I could put too much stress on my chest and feel the worse for it. I did take her warning seriously, but I still couldn't wait to get outside. So when Claire arrived she barely got into the room before I took her by the arm and wheeled her around.

The air outside smelt sweet and fresh. It was crisp and cold, but I revelled in just being out in it and not cooped up in my little room. We walked down the Rue de Vidollet and then turned right and headed into the centre of the city. The sensation of my breasts moving as I walked was very strange. Yes there was some discomfort, but the feeling of movement on my chest was far from unpleasant. It was very different to how things had felt when I wore the breast forms. There had not been much natural movement with them I now realised. Claire in her typically intuitive way must have realised what I was thinking, "Feel good do they?" She grinned at me.

I laughed and reddened a little, "Well, yes. They do actually."

"Glad you did it?"

I nodded firmly, "Yes. Just as well you didn't ask me that on Sunday afternoon though. The answer may have been quite different."

We walked down to the lakeside. Lac Léman apparently is what it is called. Philistines like me thought its real name was Lake Geneva, but Claire astutely informed me of my error. Irrespective of what it should be called, it was beautiful. A crystal clear lake with hills rising from each side of it. And it was massive. We stood at the lakeside for about fifteen minutes as I drank in the scenery. Then we retired to a little café overlooking the lake and enjoyed coffee which then ran into lunch. Claire and I had talked a lot over the last few days. There had been little else to do. I felt a lot closer to her now than I think I ever had done before. I mentioned this to her.

She smiled, "Yes, I know what you mean. I'm sure a lot of it is down to time with each other, but I think there is something more. I'm getting kind of used to relating to you as a sister more and more. It's a different sort of relationship." I thought she was right and I thought I liked it. After lunch though, I had something else in mind.

"You want to go shopping?" Claire queried as she screwed up her face, "Don't you think you might be overdoing the whole girl thing a little?"

"No, it's not that. I have a few specific things in mind."

"Huh?"

I sighed and spelt it out for her, "I need some new bras."

"Oh," she said as the penny dropped.

We avoided some of the upscale lingerie shops as Claire suspected they would have wanted to measure me to get an exact fit. I didn't want to have someone measuring me yet as I was still a little tender. We found what we needed in a general boutique and I bought several new bras. Some practical and some that were well less than practical. I also couldn't resist buying myself a new top. It was a lilac low cut top that I knew would show cleavage. Claire laughed when she saw what I was at and made several comments using words like shameless, flaunt and the like. I didn't care. I bought one in black as a present for Jools. I couldn't come back from my 'holiday' empty handed after all.

It was late afternoon when we got back to the clinic and Marie chided me gently for being out so long. She asked me how I felt and when I thought about it, I realised that it wasn't so much my chest that was sore, but rather my lower back. I mentioned this and was quite puzzled by it. Marie quirked an eyebrow and informed me as to the effects of the extra weight I now possessed on the front of my chest. I was quite exhausted after the day's activities and decided to turn in early.

 

----------*----------

 

The next morning, I really felt good. My insides felt back to normal and my appetite was up to scratch again. I was permitted to have a shower as long as I kept the surgical support bra on and let Marie check the wounds when I came out. The warm water beating my body was luxurious and I felt properly clean for the first time in days. I subjected myself willingly to Marie's ministrations after I had dried off. She nodded approvingly, "It all looks very good. The wounds have united and I think Mr. Stretton will be most satisfied. I do not think you need the surgical bra any longer. Do you have a suitable one of your own?" I did and with her help, I slipped on a sports bra. It felt more comfortable and I couldn't help but revel in the sensation of holding my own breasts and feel them move on my chest. A lot of the swelling had gone down and the bruising was fading into the typical yellow brown colour. Whilst they were not as big relatively speaking with the diminished swelling, they were still not what you would call small. I thought they were overall probably a little larger than I had been when wearing the breast forms but I didn't think it would be noticeable. I really was very pleased. Marie noticed.

"You like them?" she said with a smile.

I grinned, "I do, is it that obvious?"

She nodded, "It is quite obvious. You should be pleased, they really do suit you."

"Thanks," I beamed. I dressed in a red polo neck top and black skirt and took a fair bit of time doing my hair and makeup. If all went well when Mr. Stretton saw me, I would hopefully be getting discharged later in the day.

It was just before midday when Mr. Stretton breezed in with a cursory knock on the door and Marie trailing in his wake. He was smartly dressed in a dark pinstripe suit. "Ah my dear Miss Malone! How are you?"

I smiled, "Very well thank you."

"Have you had any problems?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I felt quite sick after the anaesthetic and I've had a little discomfort, but it's all fairly well settled."

He nodded and rubbed his hands together, "Good, good. Now can I take a look at the end result?"

I slipped off my top and unclasped my bra and removed it. He moved in and gently examined my breasts. He lifted each one up and examined the wounds. Marie handed him a stitch cutter. I steeled myself in case it would hurt, but he deftly removed the stitches and I didn't even feel it. He inspected one last time and then told me I could put my bra on again which I did.

"Everything looks wonderful," he said and then winked, "Even though I say so myself. But seriously, you are young and healthy and heal well. The wound is in the skin crease just under your breasts and even now is barely noticeable. In a few weeks, even with close inspection, you will be hard pressed to find it. When the bruising fades, anyone would have difficulty telling that you have undergone surgery. Except for the fact that nature rarely hands out such perfect breasts as you now have."

I wasn't sure if he was complimenting me or his handiwork, but I felt myself flush nonetheless. "Thank you so much Mr. Stretton."

He smiled, "Are you pleased with the end result?"

I nodded and said emphatically, "Very much so."

He paused, "Now you might find they are slightly larger than a D cup which you had wanted. It is often hard to correlate the volume of implant with the resulting cup size so what I do is make a judgement as to which side it would be better to err on. In your case, with your form and figure, a larger breast appears very fetching and attractive. Certainly in my opinion anyway, so I hope you will forgive me if I have delivered even a little more than I had promised."

I laughed a little self-consciously as I pulled my top on again, "That's fine, I am very happy."

He shook my hand, "It was a pleasure Miss Malone, an undoubted pleasure. I'll let Marie sort out the formalities and you can be on your way this afternoon. I am so satisfied with things today that I don't think I even need to see you for a further post operative check. I understand you will be seeing Dr. Carson in the near future again so if there are any problems, she can get in touch with me. Farewell, my dear."

And he was gone, breezing on to his next patient. Employing him had been an expensive little manoeuvre but it brought to mind oft quoted words of my father, 'you get what you pay for'. He was right and all things considered, I was happy enough to write the cheque when Marie brought the invoice. I had thought that writing a cheque for fifteen thousand pounds when buying my car was quite something, but writing a cheque for twenty thousand pounds? It didn't seem like real money and I imagined that was what it was like when one had a lot of it. Did it devalue money? Does it make you value things less? I hoped not.

Claire arrived just after lunch to help me with my things as I was leaving. However she had her mind set on one thing. "Cara Malone, Nicola Evans, sister of mine: we are not leaving this room until you show me the results of this week's endeavour. I think you owe me at least that." She winked.

I laughed, "Alright, fair point." I closed the door and then sat down on the bed and slipped off my top. Claire whistled softly, "What a cleavage!"

"I suppose you want me to take my bra off too?" I asked.

She grinned, "Well, I want to see it all."

I sighed theatrically and slipped my bra off. Claire seemed impressed, "They are beautiful. Amazing. They look so natural. If that bruising wasn't there…" She thought for a moment and then continued, "Where are the scars? I can't see them."

I lifted my breasts up gently, "Underneath, look."

She looked, "Wow, I can barely see them. Impressive workmanship indeed." I grinned proudly and slipped my bra and top back on. Claire mused, "Almost makes me think about getting mine done." She cupped her own breasts.

"Pfft," I said, "you don't need any enhancement."

She grinned, "Well I didn't think so until I saw yours. So tell me, how much did this all cost? You have evaded that question all week."

I grimaced and told her and she blinked several times, "Wow. I think I'll live with my little C cups."

We both laughed and headed down the corridor with Claire carrying my suitcase. At the nurses' station I went over to Marie and hugged her gently taking care not to compress my breasts, "Thank you so much for looking after me and I'm sorry if I caused you any hassle."

She smiled and hugged me back, "Not at all Cara, you were a joy to look after. Good bye and who knows, maybe we see you back here sometime?"

I laughed, "Maybe, but I doubt it." We went outside to where Claire had a taxi waiting. It was going to take us to Claire's hotel. I was going to share her room that night as we were flying back to London the next morning.

 

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We had a quiet dinner in the hotel and retired to bed in good time. I was still a bit low on energy and figured that was to be expected. We checked out the next morning and headed for the airport. The flight was uneventful except for the inevitable circling over Heathrow, and we touched down around lunchtime. The taxi dropped me off at Jools place and then took Claire back to her friend's house where she had left her car. I had asked her if she wanted to come in, but she was keen to be on her way and get home before dark. I gave her a hug, "Claire you are without doubt the best sister a girl could have. I can never thank you enough for this week." My voice wavered and I felt the dreaded emotion welling up and my eyes began to sting. Inwardly I cursed the effects of the female hormones and what they could do to me in situations like this. Claire was subject to the same problem. I saw her swallow and her eyes glisten. She hugged me tightly, and whispered, "Thanks." We decided to stop the goodbyes there before we both ended up in floods of tears. I stood and waved until the taxi turned the corner. I thanked God for a sister like Claire. She was determined and strong, yet faithful and compassionate.

I lugged my case up the stairs and winced as I felt a few twinges of discomfort from my chest. I set it down at the top and called out, "Anyone home?" There was no answer. I presumed Jools was out somewhere. I unpacked my things in my room and, tired after the travelling, decided to have a nap. When I came to it was late afternoon and I heard music playing. Jools apparently had arrived home. I yawned, rubbed my eyes and gave my hair a cursory brush. I walked out into the living room. Jools was sitting reading something.

"Hi Jools," I said.

She jumped, "Oh my god, Cara you scared the crap out of me. I didn't know you were here. When did you get home?"

I smiled apologetically, "Sorry. I arrived back about lunchtime and was tired so I decided to have a snooze."

She regained her composure, "Well have a good time?"

I grinned, "Yes, I guess I did."

Jools sat and smiled expectantly at me, "Well?"

I wrinkled my brow, "Well what?"

She sighed, "Did you get me a present?"

I laughed, "I knew you would be looking a present. Let me go and see what I can find." I went and got the black low cut top that I had bought for Jools and brought it out to her.

"Ooooh," she said holding it up against herself. "Nice. A little naughty, but nice. Thanks I love it."

I nodded, "I thought you would." I casually added, "I got myself one too, but in lilac."

Jools frowned a little, "Erm Cara, it's sort of a little low cut. I'm not sure but it might sort of let your breast forms show."

I played along with her, "Oh, do you think so." I grimaced, "Yeah, hadn't thought of that. Maybe I should try it on."

Jools nodded, "I think that would be wise. Hey, where are you going?"

I turned, "No time like the present."

I went into my room quickly before I lost my straight face. I had a little snigger to myself. I knew I was being bad but couldn't help it. I took off my blouse and sports bra. I put on one of my new under wired bras and pulled my new top on. I checked out my appearance in the mirror and smiled broadly. As I thought. There was more than a hint of cleavage on show. I wandered back out. Jools was reading again.

"Umm, what do you think Jools?"

She looked up and set her papers down as she stood up and walked over. "Let me see…." She stopped and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes goggled and she murmured, "Oh….my…..god……I don't believe it…..is this some sort of joke."

I smiled and shook my head, "Afraid not."

She came over and took a closer look. "I don't believe it," she said almost accusingly, "What have you done? Holiday my foot! You're a little schemer."

I giggled, "Guilty as charged."

"Let me see," she said clicking her fingers.

"Jools," I protested, "That wouldn't be very modest."

"Oh come on," she said, "you know you want to."

I laughed, "OK well just this once." I slipped off my top, but kept my bra on. Jools marvelled, "This is amazing. I can't believe you have actually done this. How? Where?"

I put my top back on and sat down and talked Jools through it all. I apologised for not telling her but explained that it was a decision I had to take myself and that Claire was the only one who knew. She didn't seem to mind.

"Awesome Cara. But are you sure about all this? It's sort of pretty much an irrevocable step."

I nodded, "I know Jools. But let's face it, all the steps leading up to this have made this decision for me. I can't go back, heck I don't want to go back. So I have to move forward. I'm happy."

She grinned, "We're going to have more shopping to do. Think of all the things you can wear now. And just wait until the summer stuff is in the shops!" We laughed and chatted more as we organised a bite of dinner.

 

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CHAPTER 18

 

I had rang Jon over the weekend to let him know I was back and to arrange for him to come round again the following week. He arrived mid morning on Monday.

"Hey Cara, how was the holiday?"

"Good, thanks."

He nodded, "Get up to anything exciting?"

If only he knew. "Nah, sort of quiet, relaxing, you know. You been up to anything?"

He shrugged, "Did the last two gigs with the guys last week. To be honest, I'm glad to see the back of them. They were starting to get to me."

I grinned, "I can imagine."

Jon knelt down and got his guitar out, "Let's play?"

That was the end of the small talk it seemed. We played through the five songs a few times to ensure that we still knew where we were going with them. We did, and it was tight. It was good to play again. Although I found I had to be more controlled with my guitar. If I forgot myself, it could knock against my breasts and cause a shooting painful reminder to me to be more careful. I did it again and winced.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked. He had noticed my expression.

"Uhh nothing really," I thought quickly, "I think I may have strained something."

"All that exercise you are now doing. Always said exercise was over rated," he replied.

I took the offered way out, "Yeah I guess it could be that." Although part of me sort of wanted to tell Jon what I had done, I felt it wouldn't exactly help. Things were stilted enough without me making him feel even more uncomfortable. I reckoned that he would work it out in time. Or not, but it probably didn't matter. Over lunch I tried to engage in the sort of normal conversation we once enjoyed.

"So Jon, seeing anyone at the moment?"

"Huh?" he said looking up with an almost startled expression on his face. I repeated the question.

"Err," he seemed flustered, "well, no not really. Not for the last month or two actually."

I grinned and teased, "What the mighty Jon Peters without a girlfriend. What has gone wrong with the world?"

He was rising to the bait, "There's nothing wrong. Been busy you know, and what are you trying to imply? That I'm some sort of womaniser?"

I shrugged and feigned innocence, "Oh nothing. Just strange, you don't normally seem to have any problem finding a girl." I looked up, "Hmm, maybe it's age. Is your hair thinning a little on top?"

He self consciously ran a hand through his sandy fair hair, "Hey, no way. Might be receding a little bit but that's all." He realised I was teasing and he laughed, "Nice try. I'm not going to rise to it." He paused and then raised an eyebrow, "Why? You seeing anyone at the moment then Miss Cupid?"

I smiled beatifically, "No, but then I was always the one who had the trouble getting the dates, unlike you."

He snorted, "I don't see it being much of a problem for you from now on."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

The casual easy atmosphere that had developed with the familiar banter evaporated almost instantly. "Umm, well…you know. With the way you look and all now." He resumed eating.

After lunch we began to work on a new song. Jon had put together a few chords into a catchy riff on the guitar. It had a good beat and we played around with it and tweaked it about. He didn't have any lyrics or any ideas, but we soon had the music for a verse and chorus. I was humming along trying to find a melody and tried a few things. He made suggestions here and there and eventually, with me playing it out on keyboards, we had a soulful melody line. Still no lyrics though.

"No ideas at all?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Nope. You know me, not much on the lyrical front. You got anything in mind?"

I sat and thought, "I might have. You keep playing it over and over and I'll see if anything comes to me." He didn't have to be asked twice. I sat down with a pen and blank piece of paper. A vague concept had been floating around in my head. It had sort of been there over the last few weeks but never materialised. I closed my eyes and tried to focus my mind. The idea had been sparked off by going home to my family over Christmas. The first thing I decided upon was the title. Normally it came halfway through writing lyrics or even at the very end. However this song was called 'Coming home' from the very first words. Now to try and find the rest of the words. Jon played, I thought, I scribbled and scored out. I listened, I hummed, I mused. I screwed up pages and threw them on the floor. I screwed up my eyes but decided not to add them to the paper pile. The words began to come and I slowly but painstakingly started to make progress. At last I felt I had it and nodded to Jon.

He stopped playing, "About flaming time. My hand is about to drop off."

I smiled, "Hey now, writing a song is a creative process, it's almost like creating a child."

He retorted, "Yeah it felt like it took nine months too."

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, "You look like such a spoilt little girl when you do that."

I inclined my head, "So you don't want to hear it then?"

He grinned, "Less with the huffing, more with the singing." I obliged.

"A small world, outside the great unknown,

A life lived in close confines,

Until you leave, set out on your own,

Follow your soul's designs

Been so long, yet the time runs by,

Don't even realise it's gone,

Weeks pass, the years they fly,

I'm always moving on:

Same old faces,

Familiar places,

As I drive down the main street,

Corners where I

Laughed and cried

Shades of memories bitter sweet

No matter how long I've been gone

No matter how far I may roam

Wherever my sun may set and dawn

In my heart, I'm coming home.

Though you're away, a tie still binds,

To the world you once had

In quiet moments, the stillness finds,

More of the good than the bad,

Try and resist, the ever present pull,

A compass needle pointing north,

In the battle, know your heart will rule,

Emotions from the depths call forth:

Same old faces,

Familiar places,

As I drive down the main street,

Corners where I

Laughed and cried

Shades of memories bitter sweet

No matter how long I've been gone

No matter how far I may roam

Wherever my sun may set and dawn

In my heart, I'm coming home."

After a brief musical solo, I repeated the chorus to finish. I looked over at Jon expectantly, wanting to see what he thought of it. He was doing his poker-faced thing that he often did. He was going to make me ask. "Well?" I asked, "What do you think of it?"

He nodded slowly and pursed his lips together. "Maybe it's a good thing," he said enigmatically.

"Maybe what's a good thing?" I wasn't sure if he was talking about the lyrics or something else.

He grinned, "Maybe it's a good thing you are so messed up if it makes you write lyrics like that."

I gasped and threw my pen at him, "Hey! That's not fair." I paused, "So you really like it then?"

He nodded and laughed, "Yeah, it's great. Seriously you have no idea how good it feels to be doing music that involves more than 3 chords and words of one syllable."

I smiled, "Did you appreciate the way that I alternate it from the general second person of the verse to personalising it in the specific first person in the chorus?"

He laughed, "Oh yes, sure. I really spotted that. Heck, what do I know? It sounds good to me and I think we have ourselves another song." I agreed.

 

----------*----------

 

"What are you looking at?" Jools asked as she looked over my shoulder. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading.

"Hmm? Oh nothing really."

"C'mon, what is it?"

"Hey don't be so nosy!" I pulled the paper towards me. "If you must know, I'm looking at the local jobs section."

She gave me one of her looks, "Huh? What the hell for?"

I shrugged, "A few reasons. One of which being money."

"Money? Are you losing it? Sure you got forty grand as an advance."

I nodded, "Yes fifteen of which was spent on my car and twenty of which was spent on these." I cupped my breasts.

Her eyes widened and she gave a low whistle, "Twenty grand? Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. It doesn't come cheap and to get it done privately and discreetly in Geneva carries a premium price tag."

"Twenty grand," she mused, "are you sure it was wise?"

I shrugged, "Yes, I guess so. I know it's a lot of money, but I think it's worth it. I mean you have no idea…" I stopped as I wasn't sure if I should go on.

Jools sat down beside me and prompted gently, "What? I have no idea what?"

I hesitated and looked away for a few moments before turning back to her. "You have no idea how much more normal they make me feel."

She screwed her face up, "Normal?"

I sighed, "I didn't think you would understand."

"Try me," she encouraged.

I thought for a moment, "I know I look good, but I've always felt like a pretender. Like it's a total charade and I could get caught out any moment. I don't like that feeling. I like the new me, I like the way I look – I'm not ashamed to admit that. But with wearing the breast forms, I felt like it wasn't quite real." I paused and smiled, half to myself, "But now, it's different." I looked at her, "You have no idea how much more feminine I feel by having my own breasts. I feel more secure, it's like it's less of a pretence, it's the real me. I don't know if that makes any sense."

Jools nodded thoughtfully, "It does. I mean if you view breasts as a fairly major characteristic of femininity. I don't think I really thought about it from your point of view though." She paused, "Are you OK Cara? I mean, this is all so strange and new, are you alright inside? You would tell me?"

I smiled at her and reached for her hand, "Jools, if I could tell anyone it would be you. But yes, I'm alright. It's still difficult. There are parts that are grand, I mean the whole appearance, clothes and makeup stuff. It's fine and I hate to have to admit it, but I love it. I sometimes think I should find it harder adjusting to how I look, but I don't. It is inside though that is more difficult." I sighed, "I can look the part, talk the part, act the part. That's just it; I guess it still is an act. Deep down inside, I'm not really sure about some things." I let my voice trail off.

"Like?" she prompted. I shrugged, not wanting to continue. She went on herself, "Like how you feel about others? Men? Women?"

I looked over at her and gave a wan smile, "Yeah, something like that."

Jools squeezed my hand back, "I don't know what I can say. But I'm sure given time, things will become clearer."

"I hope so," I murmured.

Jools smiled brightly, "Anyways, back to the question at hand, you don't really need to get a job for the money do you?"

I shrugged, "I've got a few thousand left yes, but it could be some time until there is any income from the recording deal, if any at all. It will still be a few months until a single is released if we get to that stage."

"But sure, there aren't many expenses what with you living here and all?"

I smiled. Jools was hard to divert. Like a dog with a bone when she got hold of something. I tried to explain it to her, "It's not just money. In fact, that's a minor part of it to tell you the truth. I'm looking for some experiences. You know, like as a woman. I've lived my whole life up to now as a man. I know about that, I've been there and done that. Now I'm trying to live as a woman, and it's all new. It's unfamiliar. I'm not used to it. I don't have much to draw on. I need some real life experience. I figure a job will give me that."

"What sort of job had you in mind?"

I sighed, "Well there won't be many opportunities for me. I mean, I'm not qualified for much. The thing I thought I would be most likely to get a job in was something like waitressing or the like."

"Wouldn't that be sort of scary?"

I laughed, "Yes it is. Don't make it worse. But I need to face these things. I can't go on living in this cocoon, all protected and sheltered. As much as I would like to. Pretty soon, if things work out, I'm going to be out there in the public eye. I'll have to interact and react to a lot of things. I just think it would be good if I could get used to meeting new people and interacting with them as Cara."

Jools nodded her head from side to side, "I think I can see what you are getting at. I'm not convinced, but if you want to go for it, fine."

I had circled a few potential adverts and I had planned to go and check them out the next day. I was a bit concerned about how they would view my lack of experience, but I didn't have much option. I could apply for sales positions in various shops, but to be honest the waitress option fitted in better with my plans. I could continue to work on the songs and music during the day and then work a few evenings a week.

 

----------*----------

 

And so it was that I set out into the city centre the next afternoon on my quest. I had spent late morning and early afternoon with Jon as we played, sang and experimented. I made my excuses and told him I was heading out looking for a job. He seemed bemused and puzzled as to why I would want to do this. I didn't want to get into it. The way we were communicating, or rather not communicating, I had little hope that he would understand my motivations. So I told him I needed the cash and yes I had blown most of my share of the advance. He wanted to know how on earth I could have spent so much money. I told him that the car and all the clothes, cosmetics and jewellery I was compulsively buying didn't come cheap. He seemed surprised, but that brought the conversation to a halt.

I had agonised over what to wear and had settled on smart and conservative. Well sort of conservative, but not dowdy. I wore a black suit with a knee-length skirt and white satin blouse. I styled my hair and added a little more than my usual daytime makeup. Attractive, but not over the top. I grabbed my list that I had drawn up and rode the Tube into the centre of London. It was all pretty much a waste of time. First I tried an upscale French restaurant. The manager was polite, but when I heard I had no experience, he lost interest. It was the same story with all the places I visited. No experience, no job. I felt disheartened as I stood in the rush hour crush on the Tube. Perhaps I had aimed too high. I had only selected really nice restaurants. The sort of places that were probably too nice for me to even want to eat in. I went back to the drawing board when I got home and lowered my sights a little.

The next day, I tried again. This time, I had gone for a less conservative approach. I went with a fitted white body, my black and white checked miniskirt and black suede boots. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror before leaving I again marvelled at how sexy I could look. I was feeling more and more comfortable about my looks and attractiveness. Sufficiently confident in my appearance, I tried to drum up optimism and I set out with a positive attitude. It didn't last too long as yet again I faced rejection after rejection. Steak house restaurants, casual diners, Italian restaurants – they all still wanted someone with experience. After my latest kick in the teeth, a Thai restaurant in the Mayfair area, I meandered aimlessly. It was a bitterly cold February afternoon and I pulled my coat more tightly around me. I was going to give it up as a bad idea when I walked past another restaurant and saw the sign. 'Waitresses required – sense of humour more important than experience.' I perked up at that and took a closer look at the restaurant. It was called 'Trin's Dins'. I had heard of it. It was a restaurant-bar-club based on the St. Trinian's school movies theme. The waiters were supposed to be hunky men in school shorts and the waitresses dressed in the sexy school girl outfits made famous by the movies. I sort of recoiled as I thought it wasn't exactly what I was aiming for. Then I thought, 'what the heck, they would probably reject me anyway, why not give it a try?' So I went in and asked for the manager.

I sat and waited and watched the staff preparing for opening time. I noticed some of the waitresses in their white blouses. Varying degrees of open buttons, some tied over a bare lower abdomen. The skirts, if they could be called that, were quite short – again some shorter than others. Stockings and suspenders were often in full view. The waiters didn't even wear shirts! Just a tie hanging loosely around their necks. Their trousers were tight and some even wore shorts. Although it was February, it was very warm inside the restaurant. I imagined it had to be given the scanty uniforms. I had actually decided that I wouldn't stay and was just getting up to leave when my name was called, "Miss Evans?" I had decided to give my real name as I would need a valid National Insurance number if I got a job. I turned slowly and found myself face to face with a smartly dressed man in a business suit. He was of medium height, slightly balding and must have been in his forties. "Miss Evans?" he repeated.

I nodded and smiled, "Yes that's me."

His smile broadened as he took in my appearance. He held out his hand, "I'm Jerry Kingston, the manager here. I hear you are looking for a job?"

I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't feel I could just turn and walk away now. "Err yes, that's right. I saw the sign outside."

He nodded, "Yes we need waitresses. Why don't you come into my office and we'll talk."

I followed him into his office. It wasn't ostentatious, just business-like. He sat down behind the desk and indicated for me to sit opposite him. I was careful to smooth my skirt down as I sat and was aware of his eyes on my legs. He looked up and met my eyes unashamedly. He smiled, "Now what experience do you have?"

I shrugged and smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid I have none. So I'm probably wasting your time."

He shook his head, "Experience isn't necessary. As an established restaurant, we also feel it is our place to offer training and give people a foothold on the experience ladder. What's more important is if we think you would fit into our staff family."

I raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

He smiled, "Well, we are fairly relaxed; the staff get to work and enjoy themselves at the same time. The clientele come here for good traditional food, a bit of a laugh and opportunity to relax and wind down. Hence the sign outside, a good sense of humour is more important." He paused, "You've seen the uniform?"

I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat, "Umm yes. It's quite revealing."

He inclined his head, "Do you have a problem with that?" I don't know what it was. It was something in the way that he said it that made it sound like a challenge. I rose to it.

I looked him straight in the eye and smiled, "Not at all."

He grinned, "Look I'm not one for interviews and references and all that. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. What say we give you a try? Two weeks probation and see how you get on?"

I didn't know what to say. I'd just been offered a job that I wasn't sure I wanted. However given my lack of choices at that moment I made a snap decision. "OK, that sounds grand, when do I start?"

He laughed, "That's what I like. Enthusiasm and drive will get you far in this place. Call by tomorrow afternoon and ask for Jenna. She'll sort out the admin stuff and arrange a schedule for you. I'll make sure an…appropriate…uniform is ready for you." He winked and stood.

I felt a little uneasy but stood and shook the hand he offered again. "Don't disappoint me now Nicola."

I smiled nervously, "Umm I won't Mr. Kingston."

He held onto my hand longer than was necessary, "Call me Jerry please."

"Err OK – Jerry."

 

----------*----------

 

It was a cold and frosty morning but I had decided I needed to get back out to some exercise. I had missed it. I had barely a twinge from my new breasts now and the bruising was in the fading away stages. So I set off with my new 'friends' firmly held in check by my sports bra. When I entered Wormholt Park I saw Kate at the far side. As soon as she saw me she ran straight over to me.

"Hi," she said breathlessly with a smile on her face. "Where've you been stranger? Thought you'd given up on our morning sessions."

I had already thought out an answer, "Sorry Kate, I've had a terrible bout of the 'flu and am only really feeling up to getting out for a run now."

She grimaced, "Yeah, there's a lot of it going about at the moment I hear."

I felt bad lying to her, but what was I going to do – tell her the truth? Well Kate, I'm really a man, or was and so I needed to nip off to Geneva to get me a pair of real breasts. Yes, I could see that one being understood and well received.

"Let's run," I said, "but go easy on me, I'm out of practice."

And so we ran. At a reasonable pace though. I felt my lungs burning and my legs complaining. Fitness sure is a fair weather friend. Ignore her for any length of time and she will drop you just like that. I was happy to let Kate do the talking as I had no breath to spare for such non-essential bodily functions. Before long I had caught up on the gossip from her office and who was doing what with who and the like.

"And the jerk had the nerve to ask me out for dinner on Friday night. I mean, we've both been working there for a few years. I know he's married and he knows I know that but yet he thinks he is such hot stuff that it's like I'd be privileged to go out with him. Men? I mean, do they have any perception of reality?"

I figured the question was rhetorical and just laughed sympathetically. We were sitting on a bench having limbered down after several circuits of the park. Kate looked at me, "So Cara, what about you? Seeing anyone at the moment?"

I felt like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, "Umm no. Not at the moment."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm surprised. I'd have thought you'd be fighting the men off."

I laughed and waved a hand at her. "'Fraid not. To be honest, I'm too busy I guess. What with the song writing and practising, not much time left for a social life. And it's not likely to get better; I'm starting a new part time job."

"Oh? What are you doing?"

"Well, nothing dramatic. A bit of waitressing a few evenings a week to keep some cash coming in."

"Where are you working?"

"Trin's Dins. Doubt you'd have heard of it."

She laughed. "Oh I've heard of it. Been there once or twice too. So are you going to be wearing the regulation uniform?"

I grinned and felt myself flush a little, "Well yeah."

She nudged me, "Now that is something I think I might have to see." I wasn't sure if I imagined it or not, but I thought I saw her give me a wink.

 

----------*----------

 

As luck would have it, I got one of the more revealing uniforms at Trin's Dins. I wasn't sure if it was just random or if someone decided it specifically. However Jenna left me in no doubt that what I received was my uniform and personal modifications were not to be tolerated. She was a stern looking lady in her late forties. She might have been pretty once, but it was hard to tell as I had yet to see her smile. She was business-like, direct and expected to have her orders carried out to the letter of the law. I was given the run down on what I was to do, what I was not to do. What I was to tolerate from the diners and what was not tolerated. For example, I was to accept the odd lewd comment or gesture as being part of the job. I was not to offer 'any services not on the menu' as she put it. She sent me into the women's staff changing room to put on my uniform.

It wasn't a matter of being told how many buttons to leave undone on my blouse, there simply were no buttons where the top three should have been! A few weeks ago, there just would have been no way I could have worn it, but now it provided anyone who glanced casually at me with a more than adequate view of my cleavage. The blouse had ties at the bottom and when I tied them together my navel and lower abdomen were also put on view. Black fishnet stockings and black suspenders of course and an almost indecently short black skirt. I tried in vain to tug the skirt down lower, but it still barely covered my stocking tops. To finish off I had black four-inch pumps. I looked at myself in the mirror of the changing room and was shocked at how much of my body was on view. I looked sexy without a doubt. Far too sexy though. It was like a teenage boy's fantasy and I reckoned that was the image the restaurant was probably playing on.

I went out and met the rest of the staff. I felt very self-conscious. Most of the girls were nice except for one who seemed quite aloof. Mandy was her name. The guys were a little too enthusiastic in their greetings and I had to suppress a shiver as I became aware of them looking me up and down. In a sense, I could understand. A few months back if I had been in their position and saw someone looking like I did now and wearing what I wore now I would probably have been unable to stop myself paying more attention than courtesy permitted.

Jenna assigned us all our tables for the evening and gave us what I imagined she felt was a pep talk, but was more like a gruff sergeant major barking out orders before a parade. Her finishing line to us all summed it all up. "Go out there, work hard, look good and for god's sake don't screw up."

I had been told to shadow Linda for the evening to learn the ropes. Linda was a young woman about my age and of medium height with chestnut brown hair. Quite pretty but not a traffic stopper if you know what I mean. She was friendly though and for this I was glad.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Totally," I replied.

"Don't sweat it. We all were at the start."

"How long have you been waitressing?" I asked.

"A year or two. And I've been here for about 8 months now. It's not too bad. Pays better than most. But you have to watch out for the tipsy ones. Just because they've paid for their food, some of them think they are paying for extra attentions. It's a hard balance to strike. You don't want them all over you, but you want to be nice enough to them to get a good tip."

I was grateful for this advice but as Linda was talking to me I noticed Mandy glaring at me from the other end of the bar. I whispered to Linda, "What's up with Mandy? She's looking at me as if I was her worst enemy."

Linda gave a little chuckle. "Oh heavens, you probably don't realise. Have you noticed the slight differences between all our uniforms?"

I shrugged, "Well yes, some have longer skirts – well more like less short skirts. Some have higher heels than others, less revealing blouses. Why?"

She smiled and squeezed my arm, "Honey, you've got the sexiest uniform here if you hadn't noticed and yesterday it was Mandy's."

She was right. I hadn't really noticed, but mine was the most revealing with the shortest skirt and the highest heels. I didn't get the significance of this though and asked her.

"Well Nicola, we reckon it comes from Jerry. He dictates who gets to wear what uniform. It's almost like to encourage us to be sexier. Bottom line, most of the diners are male. Give them good food from sexy waitresses and they'll be back. We think Jerry has a 'ladder of sexiness' and moves us up and down as he sees fit. Mandy has just been knocked off top spot by you and she doesn't like it."

"But why me? I mean I've only started."

Linda looked at me as if I had two heads, "Have you looked in the mirror recently Nicola honey? Jerry may be a lot of things but he isn't blind." I tried to pass off her comment but she ignored me and continued, "A word to the wise also. I don't know for sure, but it's rumoured that being Jerry's favourite isn't necessarily the best thing. Just watch him that's all I'm saying."

I tried to get more information out of her but she wasn't forthcoming. It was opening time and Jenna was frowning at us. Or maybe I should say, frowning more than normal. Things started slow but soon picked up. I followed Linda around and paid close attention to how she took the orders, delivered them and then handled the customers. It was a Friday night and it was busy. She introduced me to each table she was covering as Nicola the new girl. I would generally wave shyly and smile. Most of our tables were male diners and I began to get used to being eyed up and down. Used to it in the sense of it being a familiar occurrence rather than used to it in the not minding it sense. Even though I wasn't specifically working the tables, some of the customers gave me a tip also. Before I knew it, things were winding down and it was closing time. Eventually the last few customers were persuaded to move on and we got things cleared up. I was exhausted and my feet were killing me.

I thanked Linda for her patience and instruction but she told me to think nothing of it. We headed back into the staff changing room. I yawned, "I don't know how you can be bothered changing again at the end of your shift."

One of the other girls gave a hollow laugh. Irene I think her name was. "Oh yes, you really think it would be a good idea to head home at 1 a.m. on a weekend dressed as you are now?" I grinned sheepishly and acknowledged that she had a point, a very good point. And so I changed and headed out to grab a cab home before falling into bed.

----------*----------

 

CHAPTER 19

 

I didn't rise before 11 a.m. the next day and spent a lazy day lounging around the house. I was amazed at how tired I was. Perhaps my mother was right. Perhaps I never have had a proper job. Making music was too much like fun and not hard work in my book. Thinking about my mother reminded me that I should keep in touch with my parents.

"Hi Dad," I said when he picked up at the other end.

"Oh hello….Nicola," a pause, "…how are you?"

"I'm pretty good. And you?"

"Fine."

"Erm, is Mum there?"

"I'll get her for you now." He sounded almost relieved to get off the line. I sighed. Obviously we still weren't close to playing Happy Families.

"Hello dear," my mother said.

"Hi Mum, how's things."

"Oh fine. Not much new. Your Great Aunt Fay is in the hospital with her gallstones again."

I made a few sympathetic remarks as was expected and then things sort of dried up.

My mother sounded anxious, "How are you keeping honey?"

"Oh I'm fine. Honestly." I'm working in what might be a sleazy restaurant wearing next to nothing, oh but I can't tell you that.

"I worry about you Nicola."

"You don't need to worry Mum."

"You will talk to us if you are having problems won't you? You won't shut us out again will you?"

I sighed, "No Mum I won't." I hesitated. I couldn't lie to her or keep it from her any longer. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

"There is something." I paused. "I sort of really wanted to tell you in person. No, to be honest, I didn't want to tell you, but I'm not going to do things like that." I didn't quite know how to go on.

"What is it dear?" If she sounded anxious earlier, she was verging on highly strung now.

"I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to come out with it. I've had breast implant surgery."

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone, but she didn't reply. After twenty seconds or so I felt I had to say something, "Mum? Are you there?"

In a shaky voice she replied, "Yes. Yes. I'm here. Tell me you are joking please."

"Mum, I wouldn't joke about it. It's true. Ask Claire."

"Claire? What has she got to do with it?"

"She came with me to Switzerland to be with me when I went for the surgery."

Her voice rose in pitch and gained strength, "And you didn't think that you should talk to us before doing this? Don't you think this is very irresponsible?"

"What would you have said Mum?"

"I'd have talked some sense into you. Mutilating your body like this, I really can't believe it."

I sighed. In a pained voice I continued, "Mum. You see, that's why I didn't feel I could discuss it with you. You aren't seeing things from my perspective. Tell me honestly, you and Dad are still hoping that this is a phase that I'll get over and things will go back to the way they were. Isn't that the truth?"

A pause. "Yes. Of course we are. What do you expect from us?"

"I don't know. These are uncharted waters for all of us Mum, but I can tell you that this is a one way journey. There is no going back. I don't want to. You don't understand. It feels so right, I know this is who I'm meant to be."

"Because something may feel right doesn't mean it is right," she countered.

"I know what you are saying. But you're wrong in this case."

"Nicola, I don't know what else to say."

"Me neither Mum. I'm sorry, but surely this is better than me keeping you in the dark."

"Perhaps," she said softly and simply. "Look, I think I'll go, my indigestion is coming on again."

"OK. Will you tell Dad for me?"

It sounded like a snort from the other end of the line, "Oh yes. Don't count on him being thrilled about it."

"I won't. Love you Mum."

A pause, "Love you too dear."

I put the phone down and lay back on my bed feeling totally drained. Was this worth it? Was it? I closed my eyes and thought about it. Whilst it was gut wrenching to have to deal with the difficulties it was causing with my parents, I had to admit that the alternative was untenable. Go back to being Nick so that I got on better with my parents? The thought of going back was more frightening than anything. In more ways than one. Yes when I compared the relative benefits of being Cara or Nick, Cara came out way on top. It was a lot simpler than that though. I realised that I was increasingly happy being a woman. It just felt right. I knew I hadn't got everything sorted, but I knew I wanted to work at it and sort myself out. Personally I knew who I was as Cara. I knew where I was going…mostly. Sexually? Well I had a lot of work to do there. It wasn't as if suddenly I was turned on by big hunks. I certainly found women attractive but hadn't had the same drive or desire as I once had. I had put a lot of that down to the hormones. However I had to acknowledge that I did view men differently now. Living as a woman had to affect my perspective in that regard I reasoned. I took a certain pride, even pleasure in being found attractive by a man. I didn't know if it was anything more than that. For now.

 

----------*----------

 

That evening at work was hectic. I was assigned my own tables. Not quite a full quota but I found it hard to imagine how I would handle a full workload as I seemed to be run off my feet. The previous evening Linda had made it seem so manageable. My head was spinning with taking orders, passing them through to the kitchen, picking them up and delivering them to the right table, getting the dessert orders at the right time, clearing the tables and sorting out the bill. It was a lot harder than it looked and I developed a new found respect for those who worked in the hospitality industry. Linda was friendly and helpful and whispered encouraging words to me when she could. Mandy continued to look at me as if I were a she-devil and I thought as I walked past her once that maybe she even murmured the word 'bitch'.

I made a new friend in the kitchen. Sam was one of the kitchen staff. Junior associate chef he called himself. He was about twenty I reckoned. Tall, slim and black and with an ever present smile.

"Now you cheer up Nicola," he said as I delivered yet another order. "I'm not gonna make you your orders unless you give me a smile. That's the deal and I'm sticking to it."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks Sam," I said gratefully.

"For what sugar? I ain't done nothing. Yet you make me feel like I'm in heaven by smiling on me?"

I laughed and it did lift my spirits. He continued to flirt with me yet there was something different about it. Out on the floor the men would leer and wink at me. It was certainly flirting, but it made me feel dirty and cheap. Sam was gentle and respectful. I wasn't attracted to him, but I enjoyed the exchanges.

"You're breaking my heart Nicola girl," he said.

"Why?" I said asking the expected question.

"Cos I hear you ain't working tomorrow night and I'm a gonna have to work my hands to the bone without the prospect of seeing that angelic smile."

"Sam, you're flirting with me," I said with a laugh.

"Damn straight I am girl. But you're gonna be the death of me."

I fell for it again. "Why's that?"

"Cos I promised my Momma on her dying bed that I'd never fall for no white girl and here you are making me break my promise to my dear departed mother."

I didn't know how to respond but Jim, one of the kitchen hands guffawed and gave Sam a pretend slap on the ear, "Your Mum would kill you if she heard you talk like that, if I see her I'm going to tell her what you said."

Sam held out his hands in protest, "Well, it's the sentiment that counts." He smiled at me and winked as he handed over the latest meals to deliver. I laughed to myself as I went to leave them down. It was a table of four increasingly drunk businessmen. As I set the last plate down, I felt a hand on my backside. I stood up sharply and turned to the man who had felt me up. I tried to keep my composure and smiled, "Now sir, you really shouldn't be doing that. What would your wife think?" I had noticed a ring on his left hand.

He laughed and winked lecherously, "She wouldn't be surprised darling."

I raised an eyebrow and put a hand on my hip, "Lucky woman."

The irony was wasted on him, "Oh she is, sweetheart. She is. You could be lucky too if you play your cards right."

I laughed, "Oh I don't think so." I was glad to make my retreat. Towards the end of the night, things began to slow down and I reflected on what was the difference between the disgusting flirting of the patrons and the flattering harmless chat from the likes of Sam. I realised that flirting in the context of a relationship, I mean friendship, was pretty much alright. No matter how new the friendship. If there was respect there, some sort of friendship, it seemed OK. With the customers, there wasn't that same bond and it just seemed tacky and repulsive. I don't think men realised that at all. I know I hadn't thought about this until seeing it from the other side. I decided to try some flirting of my own.

"Sam," I pouted, "you promised me those chocolate fudge cakes for table 4. Are you taking other girls' orders over mine?" I batted my eyelids.

He laughed and held a hand to his heart, "Nicola dearest, never. Sam's your man, count on that. I'll have them for you in just a jiffy." And he did. It seemed harmless. I mean, I didn't have any deeper intentions and I don't think Sam had. It was all a bit of fun. It had certainly brightened my evening up.

 

----------*----------

 

I didn't have to work again until Wednesday so Jon had arranged to come over on Monday again. He laughed when I told him about where I was working. He had heard of it too it seemed.

"Isn't that the place where the waitresses wear the skimpy uniforms?"

"Yes," I admitted a little shamefully.

"And you are comfortable dressing like that?"

I felt a little defensive. "Well, it's not exactly my choice. But I don't think I look bad in my uniform."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment. I couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?"

He opened his eyes and grinned, "Just trying to imagine you in that miniskirt and fishnet stockings."

I gasped, "Jon!" I threw a plectrum at him and he laughed.

We played and practiced. Tried new sounds, mucked about with bits of new songs. We didn't really achieve much in real terms, but we had made giant leaps on the grander scale of things. The musical relationship is a strange almost ethereal thing. Like musical telepathy. I would know what he was thinking, where he was going – almost at the same time as he did and vice versa. We would play this sort of game where one of us would pick a key and start improvising and the other had to keep up and see if they could work out where the other was going. We were getting very good at it. After a marathon blues jamming session we ended with a note perfect tight ending and after the last note had died away, we both just laughed. Music was such a release. Things also seemed more relaxed between us too.

"Jon?"

"Mmm?" he said with a bite of sandwich in his mouth.

"Are things…I mean are we better now?"

"How do you mean?" he asked wiping his mouth.

I shrugged, "Well, I don't know, I mean things seem less uptight if you know what I mean."

Jon grinned, "Yeah." He shrugged, "I suppose. Maybe I'm just getting used to you. I mean you're not so different."

"Am too! All this work I put in and you say I'm no different," I protested with a pout.

He raised an eyebrow and I saw a twinkle in his eye, "Didn't I tell you that I'm immune to your charms?"

I lowered my head a little and looked up at him through my lashes. I gave him a sultry smile and said, "That sounds like a challenge to me."

He laughed, "You know, you're right - you are different. Don't take it the wrong way, but you look incredibly sexy when you do that." He chuckled and resumed eating his lunch.

So did I, but I knew things were different. Previously he would have clammed up at the hint of such an exchange. Now he was more like the easygoing Jon I knew from before. It was good. However his words had a strange effect on me too. I felt a sort of glow inside me. I knew he was sort of teasing me, but it made me feel really strange.

 

----------*----------

 

On Tuesday afternoon I had had an appointment with Dr. Carson. She seemed pleased to see me and was keen to check on my recovery from my recent surgery. As she examined me she nodded, "Well I guess he earned his money. I know there are scars there and I can barely see them. Very impressive." After I dressed again, I sat before her and she set her pen down. "So Cara, how are you feeling?"

"Erm, I'm fine."

"And you are happy with the results of your surgery?"

I couldn't keep the smile from my face, "Yes I am. I don't know why, but I feel so much more…" I struggled to find the word, "…natural I guess."

"No regrets?" she asked.

I thought for a moment and then shook my head, "No, no regrets. This was not only something I knew I had to do, but when it came to it, it was something I wanted to do and I'm delighted with the results."

She seemed satisfied with my responses, "That's good Cara. Any problems with the hormones?"

I grimaced a little, "Well apart from the moods they give me at times, no."

She laughed, "It's all part of the deal you know." She paused, "Cara I want to recommend something and I think you'll initially react against it but hear me out." I was intrigued and listened intently, "I would like you to see both a psychiatrist and a psychologist."

She had been right about my reaction, "What on earth for? Do you think I'm crazy or something?" My voice had a little more intensity in it that I had intended.

She held up a hand and spoke gently, "I told you to hear me out. I don't think you are crazy. Far from it. But I would be negligent as your physician if I didn't ensure you had the proper assessments performed and documentation made as you continue with your transition. This is very much a normal part of standard procedures."

I felt more reassured and even felt a little foolish at my outburst, "Oh right. Sorry for nearly exploding." I smiled apologetically.

She shrugged, "It's understandable. Now there are a few excellent professionals I can refer you to, but I want to give you some choice. Would you prefer it if you were referred to men or women?"

I thought about it for a moment. For some reason the idea of baring my soul to a man seemed abhorrent to me. I didn't quite know why. Perhaps I feared how a man would react to my story and my transition. I knew they would be professional and that this would be nothing new to them, but I couldn't get over my initial reaction. "I think I'd prefer to be referred to females, if that's OK."

She nodded, "Not a problem. I'll send off the referrals and you should get word of appointments in the next few months. There is one other thing and please, please don't jump down my throat this time." She winked at me and I smiled. "I want to suggest that you are tested for HIV."

I didn't explode, but I was puzzled, "Why?"

She was a little hesitant, "Let's just say that you need it documented if you are ever planning any…further…surgery. I'm not saying you ever will, but this needs to have been documented in that eventuality."

I nodded slowly, "Well it's not something I'm considering at all, but I'm happy enough to have it done if you recommend it." And so I had more blood taken and left with an appointment to come back in about 2 months for another consultation.

 

----------*----------

 

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday revolved around work. I found I was so exhausted after a night in the restaurant that I wasn't really fit for much the next day. I had only managed to make a few morning runs with Kate earlier in the week but after a work night, there was no chance of that. And I didn't have the energy or inspiration for playing much music. Jon cottoned onto that and tactfully invented things he had to do until the start of the following week. So much for my great plan of having a job that wouldn't interrupt my daily schedule. Work was tough, but I was getting the hang of it. By the end of the week I was managing a full quota of tables. Just about, but I was managing. I was getting to know my fellow waitresses and there was a certain camaraderie. Some of the male waiters had hinted at asking me out, but I had politely tried to deflect their advances. They seemed to read between the lines. Unlike the punters who were continually ogling, trying to cop a feel and making innuendoes at me.

"How do you put up with it?" I asked Irene.

She laughed, "Oh you get used to it. Stop thinking of them as men. Picture them as apes and it doesn't seem too out of place."

I laughed, "I guess, it just makes me feel sort of cheap."

A voice from behind me, "Would have thought you'd be used to that." It was Mandy. She strutted off haughtily without looking behind her. I turned to Irene who just shrugged. "Don't worry about her," she advised.

Sam was as incorrigible as ever. "Nicola!" he gasped one time when I went back with an order. He was doubled over and his face serious for once, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" I asked with concern.

"Can you see if there is a doctor in tonight?" he gasped between gritted teeth as he held his abdomen. Jim was supporting him and was looking worried too.

"Oh my god, what's wrong?" I said.

He suddenly stood bolt upright, smiled, winked and said, "Cos I got a bad case of the loving a white girl and it's gonna be the end of me."

I rolled my eyes. I felt a mixture of relief at there not actually being anything wrong and indignation at being set up. "You!" I said pointing at him. "By the time I am through with you, you will need a doctor."

Sam laughed and high-fived with Jim, "You're saying all the right things baby." Then the smile suddenly disappeared from his face and Jim stopped laughing too.

"What now?" I said, "I'm not falling for another of your tricks." They didn't smile. There was a cough from behind me.

I turned and found myself face to face with Jenna. Not surprisingly, she wasn't smiling either. "Miss Evans. I'm watching you. More time looking after the customers and less time being the silly little girl with the boys if you please." I felt like a naughty school girl being told off. Which was I suppose quite understandable given that I was dressed as the proverbial naughty schoolgirl. I apologised and returned to my tables feeling very sheepish.

Later in the evening when I was collecting some desserts Sam apologised. He was serious for once. "Listen Nicola, I'm real sorry for dropping you in it."

I waved a hand at him, "Don't worry Sam, she was probably looking for an excuse."

"No I mean it. I know I kid about and tease and all. But you seem like a real nice girl and I don't mean to get you into trouble."

I smiled, "Thanks Sam." This was a different side to the joker than I had seen up until now. I think he must have read my mind or something.

"Hey don't worry girl, I'm not about to ask you to marry me or anything." He paused and I laughed. "Yet!" he added with a wink and turned back to his work.

 

----------*----------

 

I rubbed my eyes, "I don't know Jon, but we need to find someone." It was Tuesday afternoon and we were discussing our keyboard player. Or rather our continued lack of one.

"Well none of the ones we talked about are available. I haven't spoken to Noel Dawson yet though."

I nodded slowly, "I don't think I know him. He was the one who was supposedly off the drink or something isn't that right?"

Jon nodded, "I've met him a few times. He was a loudmouth pain in the ass back then. I don't know, maybe he's changed."

"Can he play?"

"Oh yes, he can play alright."

We sat in silence for a few moments before I spoke again, "Well, time is marching on and I think we are going to have to get ready to go into the studio soon enough so the sooner we get this sorted the better. Want to get in touch with him and see if he will come over for a try out. No guarantees on either side though. We'll see how it goes?"

Jon agreed and managed to track Noel down that evening. He agreed to come over the following afternoon. Jon and I were sitting on the sofa waiting for him to arrive. He looked at me thoughtfully, "Why did you do that today?"

"Huh? Do what?"

"You know, dress up special, and do your hair up, make up and all."

"What? I'm a woman now remember. It's what we do."

He shook his head, "No I mean, you're dressed up nicer today because Noel is coming over isn't that right? When it's just the two of us, you just you know wear like a blouse and jeans." Today I was wearing a white polo neck and short denim skirt with my black leather boots.

I smiled, "Oh so I don't look good in my blouse and jeans."

He rolled his eyes, "That's not what I'm saying. Of course you do."

I nodded, "OK, you're right. I don't really know why. I guess it's meeting someone new and wanting to make a good impression." I paused and a wry grin formed at the edge of my mouth. Jon noticed.

"What?" he asked.

I chuckled and winked, "Or are you worried that our relationship is going stale and I don't make the same effort for you any more?"

He snorted, "You're bad. Very bad." He suddenly reached over and began to tickle me.

"Ow, stop it!" I protested, but he didn't. He continued and I tried to fight him off. He persisted and my efforts only succeeded in landing myself on my back on the sofa with Jon practically on top of me. We both realised the incongruity of our position at the same time. He stopped tickling and I stopped fighting. It was one of those awkward moments. Jon grinned lopsidedly and slowly got up. I sat up and smoothed my skirt that had ridden up in a most unladylike manner.

Jon chuckled, "It's as well no-one walked in just then."

I laughed, "What would they have thought?"

Before long, there was a ring at the doorbell and Jon went to get it. It was Noel. He was tall and stocky with a mop of unruly black hair. He was slightly overweight but not as much as I was expecting. Jon had remembered him as being quite podgy. He wasn't now. I stood up and smiled shyly.

"Umm Noel Dawson, this is Cara Malone." Jon made the introductions.

I held out a hand and he shook it enthusiastically. "Hello, pleased to meet you Cara." I noticed his eyes look me up and down, but I didn't think much of it as I was getting used to this. What I did take more notice of was the appearance of a slight frown on Jon's face as he spotted Noel's glance. I put it out of my mind for now.

"Noel, glad you could come over. I'm not sure how much Jon told you?"

Noel shrugged, looked at Jon and then back at me. "He says you're putting some sort of band together and needed a keyboard player. That's all." Jon hadn't mentioned the record deal it seemed. I thought I'd play along with that approach and see how things went first of all.

Noel familiarised himself with my keyboard and Jon and I grabbed our guitars. I gave Noel a few scraps of paper with chord progressions on them and we started to play. Jon was right. Noel could play and he wasn't a slow learner either. He managed the rocky numbers without any problem. Next I showed him how I played 'I just wanna be me' on the electric piano. He picked it up fairly well. He didn't play it just quite as I liked, but I figured it was only his first time hearing it so it wasn't bad. We jammed a bit and improvised and I was fairly impressed.

"So Noel," I said, "what do you think of what we're doing?"

He smiled, "You've a great voice, great songs, Jon rocks. It sounds good to me."

"You're interested then?"

He nodded, "Oh yes."

"Do you have any other commitments at the moment?"

He hesitated, "Err no, I'm sort of between gigs at the moment." I suppose looking back, I should have paid a bit more attention to this and various other clues, but more of that later.

We welcomed Noel aboard and he signed his contract. He seemed delighted at the cheque for his share of the advance and we promised to get in touch in the next few weeks to begin band practices. Jon showed him out and then came back into the room.

"Well that's us all sorted now," I said brightly.

"Umm yeah," he said.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Probably nothing."

"What is it?"

"Nothing really. Just that…," he clammed up again.

"Come on!"

He sighed, "OK, on the way out, he asked if you were single or seeing anyone."

"Oh," I said.

He nodded and shrugged.

"What did you say?" I asked.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked at the door frame idly, "I said as far as I knew you weren't seeing anyone. That's right isn't it?" He looked up.

I nodded, "Yes. It probably doesn't mean anything. Don't worry he's not my type."

Jon smiled mirthlessly, "Yeah. Just be careful."

 

----------*----------

 

I had to make my excuses to Jon and get ready to dash off to work. In fact I was running so late, I figured I wouldn't have time to change when I got there so I pulled my uniform on and threw a change of clothes into a holdall. I borrowed a long coat from Jools' room to make myself look more decent. Jon hadn't left yet. He was fiddling around on his guitar. He came wandering out when he heard me come down the stairs.

"Got your uniform on under the coat?" he asked idly.

I nodded, "Yes, I'm running late. Won't have time to change when I get there."

"Can I see it?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"You don't want to see it."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Just interested."

I sighed and slipped the coat off and struck a pose. His eyes were like saucers and his jaw dropped. I shook my head, "Come on Jon, not like you haven't seen anyone dressed like this before." Then I realised that his gaze was focussed on my all too evident natural cleavage.

"Oh," I said and I pulled my coat around myself again.

He blinked a few times and looked away. He reddened and murmured, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

I took a hesitant step towards him, "Sorry Jon, I didn't mean to shock you."

He shook his head, "No, it's OK. It just caught me by surprise. I mean I hadn't really thought about it much, but well….wow."

I laughed, "Are you OK?"

He shrugged and grinned, "Sure. I mean, like it's none of my business." He paused and then looked at me analytically, "How are you getting to work?"

"The tube of course."

"Nuh uh. Not dressed like that."

"I've got a coat," I protested.

"I'm driving you," he insisted.

I grinned, "You sound as if you are my father."

He gave me a strange smile, "Just looking out for you."

I was grateful for the lift as I was now running very short of time.

 

----------*----------

 

I ran into Trin's Dins at two minutes past four and almost ran into Jenna. She wasn't smiling, needless to say. "You're late," she said in her grating voice. I thought about protesting that it was only a few minutes but one look at her expression convinced me otherwise and I just apologised meekly. I got a little lecture about having to pull my socks up. She informed me with what almost seemed like pleasure that Jerry wanted to see me tomorrow evening at the end of my shift as it was the end of the two week probation period and she would be providing him with an evaluation. I gave an involuntary shudder as I got the impression that it wouldn't be overly favourable. Then again I found it hard to imagine her giving anyone a good report.

The evening passed without event. I served my tables, fended off the usual advances, offers and proposals and managed to avoid Jenna as much as possible. In the changing room at the end of the shift, I was sitting beside Linda and voiced my concerns about the evaluation and meeting Jerry regarding my probation. She tried to reassure me, but then something very interesting happened. Mandy came over and sat beside me. She sat there in silence for a moment. I sat there and expected some sort of catty comment, but it didn't come. I was about to get up and go when she put a hand on my arm. It was a gentle hand and she softly said, "Wait a minute Nicola." I was puzzled but waited nonetheless. All the other girls left and I looked at Mandy unsurely.

She smiled, "Look, I'm sorry for being a bitch to you. You're pretty decent really and I wanted to warn you about Jerry."

"What about him?"

She sighed, "Listen, you know that you have the sexiest uniform." She paused.

"Yes? Go on," I prompted.

"Do you know that after a probation period, your wage is related to your uniform?"

I was confused now. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the sexier your uniform, the better your pay. Not dramatically different, but better all the same."

"But why?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he and the witch from hell get off on it. Maybe it's a control thing. But just watch out. Don't expect Jerry to let you wear it without having the favour repaid. Not many probationers have ever worn it."

I felt growing concern within me but despite my insistent asking, Mandy wouldn't say anything else. She looked almost ashamed. "Just be careful," she said as she left.

The next night, I almost considered phoning in sick. I told myself I was just being paranoid though. The thought that Mandy might be screwing with my mind even occurred to me, but she had seemed genuine. Jenna was in foul form and handed me a mammoth table assignment. It seemed more than the others and I was going to mention it, but the foul stare she gave me as I approached discouraged me from speaking up.

"Joy of my life, what's up? Gentle flower, why no smile?" Sam of course.

I found a smile, "Oh just a little preoccupied I guess."

"Why so?" he asked, "And more to the point, what can I do to cheer the love of my life?"

I laughed, "Oh I'm just being silly and nervous. Tonight's the end of my probation period and I have some sort of evaluation at the end of my shift."

His expression seemed to darken for a moment but then he smiled, "And how could one as fair as you fail to shine?"

I smiled, "You're probably right, I'm being silly."

The table load I had though soon started to get on top of me. I was falling behind in my orders and customers were getting restless. Linda tried to help out but Jenna chided her for ignoring her own tables. I felt horribly swamped and was run off my feet. Jenna hissed at me from behind at one point, "Get a move on girl, stop slacking." Despite my best efforts, I mixed up some orders and some of the diners, fuelled by a little too much alcohol, began to complain loudly. Jenna came over and actually smiled at them. To be honest, it was a scary sight and I found I actually preferred her frown. She appeased them and in front of me apologised saying that I was inexperienced and relatively new and that she would get a more suitable waitress for them. She called Irene over. Irene flashed me a sympathetic look when she thought Jenna wasn't looking. I felt so humiliated.

At the end of the shift, Jerry came out and beckoned me into his office. He wasn't smiling. He pointed at a chair in front of his desk. He sat down behind it and looked at some papers on his desk. After a few minutes he looked up and sighed. He took off his glasses.

"Nicola. Do you really want this job?"

"Of course I do." I replied. What else was I supposed to say? Perhaps I would have been better actually thinking more carefully before replying. The indignation and pride within me had made me answer with little thought.

He sighed again. "Jenna isn't overly happy with your work you know."

I nodded, "I figured that. I'm sorry. It's all new to me and I've tried hard."

He nodded and gave a little smile. "I'm sure you have. But you have to understand that we can't carry staff who aren't committed."

"I understand," I said. Although I wasn't sure that I really did.

He stood up and walked around his desk and perched on the edge of it. "Nicola dear, you are a very attractive girl and I think you could have a promising future here. What do you say to that?"

I felt a little uneasy. "Erm, that sounds good," I replied hesitantly.

"You know that the uniform you wear carries a lot of responsibility don't you?"

I wasn't sure if he meant my specific uniform or the uniform in the general sense. "I guess so," I replied slowly.

He smiled, "Good girl. I told Jenna that I thought you deserved another try and you are starting to convince me that I was right." He stood up and walked behind me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it took all my effort to stop myself from flinching.

He continued, "You strike me as someone who is determined to do what it takes to get what she wants. Would I be right?"

Now I felt sure something was wrong. However I was also scared so I replied cautiously, "Pretty much."

He patted my shoulder and walked back to stand in front of me. "Good girl, I knew you would understand." What he did next freaked me out. He started to pull down his trouser zip and I noticed an obvious bulge in that region. I jumped to my feet and sent the chair flying behind me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.

He looked startled and pulled his zip back up. He regained his composure and looked irritated now. "I thought you understood what was required of you," he hissed angrily.

"I can't believe this. This is sick," I said and ran to the door and walked briskly out into the darkened restaurant.

"Think about it Nicola," he called from behind, "Do you really want to throw away this job."

"Stuff your pathetic job," I shouted over my shoulder.

"Suit yourself you dumb slut," he shouted back at me and then slammed his office door.

I turned to make sure he wasn't coming and then turned back and bumped into someone. I nearly screamed and then I realised it was Sam.

"Shush," he said gently, "it's only me. Are you OK?"

"No, I'm not OK," I said angrily and then the tears began to flow.

"Dirty bastard," he muttered and pulled me close and put an arm around me. "I'm going in there to give him a piece of my mind this time."

I grabbed his sleeve, "No Sam. Don't do it."

His eyes flashed, "Why not? I'm not going to stand by and let him talk to you like that."

"It's not worth it."

"Not worth it? I can imagine what he pulled on you in there. The hell it's not worth it."

"Sam don't. Don't lose your job on my account."

He stood there and seemed caught in a dilemma. "Sam please," I pleaded. I saw him seemingly melt and he turned back to me. "Come on then," he said gently, "You go get changed, I'll wait outside the changing room for you and then I'll see you home."

"Sam you don't have to…" I began to protest but cut it short when I saw the look he gave me. "OK thanks, I really appreciate it."

I got changed quickly and was glad to find Sam waiting for me. He put an arm around me and guided me out onto the street. It wasn't particularly cold, but I began to shiver fairly violently.

"Hey," he said softly, "Come on, let's go somewhere warm and get you something to drink."

"It's OK Sam, I'll be alright."

He smiled at me, "Come on flower of my heart, trust Sam on this."

We walked a few blocks to a quiet pub that was still open and went in. I gratefully took a seat by the fire and Sam joined me with two drinks in his hands. "What is it?" I asked tentatively.

He grinned, "Jamaican rum. Just what the lady needs to warm her up."

I screwed up my nose but took a little sip of the liquid. It burnt my throat and I felt the warmth spread through me. I became aware of him sitting looking at me. "What?" I asked.

He smiled, "Just thinking how beautiful you looked…"

"Sam…" I tried to interrupt.

"…for a white girl," he finished and winked.

I laughed, "You're a terrible flirt you know."

He chuckled, "Don't tell me you didn't like it."

I nodded, "You're right. I did. It was one of the few things that got me through some evenings in that place. Gah. I can't believe I thought I actually wanted that job."

"What are you going to do now?"

I shrugged, "Oh I'll be alright."

"No seriously, don't you really need the job?"

I hesitated, "Well I did need a bit of extra cash. And I guess the paycheck I got from Jenna earlier is the only one I'm getting. But I'm actually a musician and the waitressing was only a temporary thing."

He smiled a wide smile with teeth. Lots of them, perfect gleaming teeth. "A musician? What do you do?"

I grinned. "I sing and play piano and guitar."

He shook his head slowly and smiled, "I knew there was something different about you."

I looked at him, "And what about you?"

"What 'bout me girl? Me just a poor boy tryin' to make an honest wage."

I flashed him a sceptical glance and he chuckled, "Alright, it's a fair cop. If you must know, I am pretty much a poor boy. But I'm working to pay my way through medical school."

I smiled. "I knew there was something out of place about you. Half the time the flirting was casual slang talk, but then you would come out with something so poetical that it just didn't seem to fit."

We chatted for about an hour about this and that and then he insisted on taking the same cab home as me despite the fact it wasn't anywhere near where he was going. I got out of the cab outside our apartment and looked back in. "Sam, look thanks for everything. Thanks for being there for me tonight." I impulsively leant in and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and put his hand on his cheek. "My Momma once told me that the kiss of the white girl was like poison." He shrugged and smiled, "But to me it feels like the sweetest nectar from the most beautiful flower." He winked at me, "You take care of yourself Nicola."

"You too Sam," I said and waved as the cab drove off.

 

To be continued…

  

  

  

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