Pretty in Silk              by: Kassie Hugo

 

It's two in the morning and I'm in the middle of nowhere with all that I own. Same old story - bag of soiled clothes and shoes with big holes in the soles. It's three days before Christmas and I have 50 pence in my pocket, no job, no life, nowhere to go. It could be worse - I could be back on the island, struggling to find a job and a way to feed myself.

Go to Lanzarote, They said.

Start a new life, They said.

We know this guy, They said.

The guy turned out to be a Time Share salesman and wanted me to stand on street corners enticing holiday makers into his office so he could put the squeeze on them. Time Share doesn't have a good reputation and I couldn't sell water to a thirsty man.

So, on this lonely country road in the early hours, I'm cold and hungry and my nose is running. My hair is greasy and it keeps flopping down in front of my eyes and my armpits smell like a dogs dinner. I'm trying to hitch back to my home town, the one I left a month ago with such pleasure and swore I would never go back to. The few cars that have gone past, headlights blazing in the night, haven't even slowed to take a look at me. Ahead, between the trees, I can see the starlight patina of a town three miles away and I head towards it, filled with a new psychotic resolve. All I want is a warm bed and a weeks sleep. I could cry, but the tears would probably freeze on my cheeks.

Back home, they'd ask what happened to Bobby. He started a new life over in Lanzarote, didn't you know. Never came back. Lucky bastard. In fact I froze to death on a dark road a million miles from where I wanted to be. That's poetic.

This road is spooky. The winds got up in the last half hour and the trees rustle around me like ghosts. There's an owl or a fox wailing in the darkness. What if vampires and werewolves stalk this place? What if they're watching me from the bushes? I look round nervously and that's when I see the house. If I hadn't been so spooked, I would have walked straight past it. Maybe its a farm and there's a barn in there and I can hide myself in the straw. Maybe it's deserted and maybe there's a fireplace where I can light a fire and get myself warm. Maybe the farmer will shoot me as soon as he sees me.

What have I got to lose?

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I step down the gravel path, feeling my way through the darkness. There's no barn down here but there is a shed. The house looks lived in and there's a car parked out front. Damn, just my luck. The shed it is then. The door is open and I step inside greeted by a musty smell, of tools and oil and something I can't quite place. But there's a space on the floor and I dump the bag and settle myself down. In years to come, I'll probably rue this night, when I'm chock full of arthritis and unable to walk. I need to close my eyes though and sleep if I can, despite the cold. Jesus, what a mess my life is in.

I wrap my arms around my chest and lean back, trying to ignore the fact that it's well below zero. The floor is concrete and dusty and the cold reaches up through my bones. How long does a body keep in this kind of weather?

The door opens and a light shines in my eyes. I don't get frightened often but I scream, the first sound I've made all day since flying in from the island.

For a moment, the light hangs there like a false sun, bathing me in its cold, golden glare. Then I can just about make out a shadow. I think it's a woman. I can see fine filaments of long hair. And now I can smell...strawberries.

Then the voice: "What are you doing here?"

How long have you got, lady? Do you want the whole, sordid tale of broken hearts and overdrawn bank accounts, misused credit cards and the odd twenty quid borrowed here and there and never paid back? Or do you want to hear how much I miss her and if I could have changed places I would but the great big God in the sky hadn't planned for that? How long have you really got?

In the end, I say something stupid: "I was cold."

Yeah, so you hunker down in a shed where the temperature's way below zero. She's silent for a moment and then the torch dips and I see her a little more clearly. She's in her mid forties, attractive and slim. Her eyes are sad and there's something broken behind them like shattered glass beneath a lake surface.

A little more confident, I babble on for a while, giving the expurgated version of my life of woe. She stays in the doorway for a long while after - I didn't think the story was that bad - the light in her hand trembling slightly. It must be scary for her. Finding a stranger in her shed so late at night.

"You'd best come in, then," she says finally.

Her name was Eloise and she lived in the house alone. In the warm light of the room, she was quite beautiful. Dark, luscious hair dropped over her back and shoulders and her eyes were soft as pillows. She wore jeans and a denim shirt and I wondered what she was doing up at this time. She would say it was fate. If she'd gone to bed she would have missed me. It was fate that she stayed up watching an old movie and drinking milky coffee.

The living room was cosy and there was a fire blazing in the hearth. She made me sit in front of it and went and made something to eat and a drink. I was grateful. You don't find Good Samaritans on every street corner and I guess she was right, it was fate. She asked me all sorts of questions and over the next hour managed to glean the details of my most recent past, the stuff that I was willing to give anyway.

"You must be tired," she said finally and smiled. "Come on," she added and got up. I followed her up the stairs to a bedroom that was a study in femininity. Pale pink roses trailed down the walls, the curtains were cream velvet, the double bed laid with a mint, silk and lace throwover and pillows. Pictures of old film stars hung on he walls, James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor amongst them. The dressing table was crowded with perfumes and potions, jewellery boxes and make-up pallets. There were colourful winter flowers in a vase. A mirror reflected my shabby appearance, greasy hair falling over my eyes and shoulders. To the right there was another smaller room with a shower unit. I stared at hungrily. I hadn't showered in a couple of days.

"It's a little flowery," Eli said. "It used to be my daughters."

"It's fine," I told her.

She looked round the room, her eyes moistening. I asked her if she was okay.

"I'll leave you to rest," she said and went out the door, closing it behind her.

I showered and shaved and looked at myself in the mirror again. I was brand new and the cold was just about gone from body. I settled naked between the silk sheets and turned off the light. The warmth and the darkness seeped into my flesh and I fell down into the deepest of sleeps.

I came back to life around mid-day. The light filtered softly through the window as I turned over and stretched. This had to be heaven. The pillow was scented with perfume and I breathed it in gratefully. For a moment, it reminded me of Claire and I thought she was there beside me. I reached out and found a sea of bed but no Claire. She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't. Claire was dead. The thought made me sit bolt upright. Disorientated, I looked around the room. Then my shoulders sagged and I leaned back, remembering the cold, dark road and the desperation in my soul and the Good Samaritan who had saved me. I climbed out of bed and looked out the window. Ice hung on the bare tree branches and the road glittered with frost.

There was a photograph of a woman on the dressing table. Young and fresh and full of life. She had to be Eli's daughter. I opened one of the wardrobe doors and peered at her clothes. Designer labels, elegant dresses, pretty tops and skirts, shoes with long heels stacked in the bottom, belts and colourful scarves over the rails. In the drawers of the dresser lay oceans of soft underwear and stockings, in another slips and woollens neatly folded. Her daughter had left her life in this room. There were no empty spaces where clothes had been removed. On the door hung a cream, satin robe. I ran a hand across the sheer material and then pressed my face to it. I could smell her, Eli's daughter, down there in the fibres of the robe. It played on my mind for a while before I turned round and looked for my jeans. I remembered dropping them on the floor in the shower room but they were no longer there. I picked up a towel and wrapped it around my waist as a knock came at the door.

Eli came in. "I thought you might like this," she said, setting a cup of tea down on the bedside table.

"Thanks, you've been great to me," I told her.

"That's okay. I don't get to meet many people out here. I'm a bit of a recluse really."

"What about your daughter?"

Her face hardened a little. It was a look that was only there for a second before it was sucked away into her skin and eyes. "I came in while you were sleeping. I've put all your clothes in the wash. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, thanks. That's very kind of you." I had this unwarranted image of her rummaging through my dirty underwear. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

"I'm afraid they're still wet."

"Oh."

She reached for the robe hanging from the door. "You can wear this, it should fit you, you're quite slim."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think it's my style. Honestly."

Undeterred, she took it off the hook and held it out to me. "Who's going to see? Come on, you can't go round naked all day."

She was smiling, eyes hopeful. She was a woman who couldn't hide her thoughts or emotions, I sensed that about her straight away. Reluctantly I took hold of the robe and pushed my arms through the sleeves. The satin ran over my flesh like ghostly fingers and settled over my back. I turned away and dropped the towel on the floor, letting the soft material wrap around my thighs. It was delicious. I tied the sash and turned back to her. "There, satisfied?"

"Not quite," she laughed. "We can't have you hanging out, can we?"

She went to the dresser drawer and rummaged through the underwear. She pulled out a pair of panties in the same material. "Here," she said.

"No."

"I insist."

I took the panties from her and slipped them on. They felt curious against my skin and I suddenly felt terribly vulnerable dressed like this in her presence.

"Don't worry," she giggled. "You look very pretty."

I forced a smile.

"Now, you must be hungry. How about a spot of brunch?"

I was ready to agree to anything that involved food. As I walked down the stairs the robe swished against my thighs creating a kind of electricity inside me. The material moved like a fluid over my body and I could feel every cell reacting to it. Goose bumps rode up my arms.

Eli insisted I wear an apron while I ate the breakfast she had cooked for me. "It's a very expensive dressing gown," she explained. "Sarah bought it at a Paris fashion show."

"Where is she now?" I asked. "Is she coming back for Christmas?"

Eli turned away, busying herself at the sink and for a while I thought she hadn't heard what I said. She washed a cup and put it up on the draining board and then picked up a towel. "She won't be back," she said simply and left the kitchen.

I'd lost my appetite. I thought I had broken something but didn't know what. The satin robe slipped away from my thigh with a whisper of sound. Without thinking, I lifted it back and briefly stroked my hand across the material.

I followed Eli into the living room. She was poking at the fire now, her eyes glittering with tears. "What's wrong?" I asked. I sat on the arm of a chair, my hands resting in my lap.

She looked at me and sobbed. "I was doing so well, but then you showed up."

"I don't understand."

"You look so much like her. You could have been brother and sister." She seemed to pull herself together and then it struck me that she was as damaged as I was. We had both lost someone and it had scarred us deep down. I went over to her and held her in my arms as she began to weep openly.

"Stay for Christmas," she said at dinner.

"I can't," I said. "I should be getting back."

"To what? Didn't you tell me there was nothing left for you there after Claire died?"

"It's where I belong."

"Rubbish," she whispered. "Stay a couple of days. We can sit and eat turkey till it comes out of ears and then watch television till our eyes turn square."

"I haven't got any money."

"I know. Look if it makes you feel less uncomfortable, you can do some things round the house."

"Okay," I said and she smiled. I felt if she asked me to bungey-jump naked off Big Ben, I'd do it.

That evening, I changed back into my clean, dry clothes and put up the shelves in her study, fixed the gate latch outside and changed the washers on her kitchen taps. I felt good for once, not tied up in knots and wasted as if I had spent my life walking through glue.

We sat and talked and drank wine and Eli told me about Sarah and I told her about Claire. When I went to bed I stared around the room and wondered what she had been like. I looked at myself in the mirror and then at the photo of Eli's daughter. There was a resemblance. I thought how lonely Eli must feel and how she had been in this house for two years, waiting for Sarah to come back, knowing all the while, deep down, that she wouldn't. I could understand her sorrow because I carried my own. How long had I waited for Claire to walk through the front door again? How many times had I sat in the darkness unable to control the pain, sobbing as I drank myself into a stupor?

The next morning, Eli dropped her bomb shell. I don't know how long it had been in her mind and whether it was madness or something else, but I somehow knew it was coming. She sat across the breakfast table, staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You've got both ears pierced."

I shrugged. "Two for the price of one."

She didn't smile at my joke but looked down at her hands. "I want to ask you something," she said. "It's not a joke. I'm deadly serious."

"If you want me to fix the roof, I've already told you I'm scared of heights."

"I want you to be Sarah for me."

I choked on my tea. "Sorry."

"You could carry it off. You've got quite feminine features. And your hair is long. And..." She stopped. I stared at her. She swallowed heavily and her eyes dropped. "You're right. It's stupid." Her shoulders slumped and she pressed her palms to her face. "It's just I miss her so much."

I took a deep breath. "Okay," I said. The word echoed around inside my head. There couldn't have been much brain left there. But part of me was thinking it would be nice to be someone different for a while. Get away from old Bobby and give him a rest. Even if it meant being a girl. A smile spread across Eli's face.

"Okay?"

I nodded. "It's the least I can do. But I must warn you I'm no good in heels.

She laughed. "You'll do just fine."

Half an hour later I lay in the bath, surrounded by scented foam, shaving my legs, thinking that this was a big mistake. The hot water caressed my smooth legs and the sensation was not unpleasant. I came out pink and clean and looking as though I had been plucked. I slipped into the white lace panties that Eli had given me and tucked my manhood away and then slipped into the dressing gown again. The smoothness of my flesh amplified the sensation of satin flowing over my body. I shuddered and looked at myself in the steamy mirror. Even after something so simple as a shave and bath I looked more feminine as if the scented water had sucked away my masculinity.

I went out into the bedroom. Eli was sitting on the bed. She had changed out of her jeans and was wearing a pale green cotton dress with a long flared skirt that buttoned up the front. "I thought if I was going to make you wear a dress, I should wear one too."

"I should think so," I smiled nervously.

"Sit down at the dresser," she said. I did so and she came up behind me and ran her fingers through my hair. "Turn to face me," she said. "I don't want you to see till it's done." I shifted round so that my eyes were on her slim waist. "I need to give this a little trim," she said lifting a strand of hair. She wrapped a sheet around my shoulders to protect the dressing gown and went to work with a pair of scissors. My heart was beating wildly inside my chest. When she had finished cutting she put the hair in rollers explaining that she needed to give it some body.

I didn't object. After all, I had agreed to be Sarah for the rest of the day. I felt a little queasy inside as if I had headed down the wrong road and couldn't find my way back.

"This might hurt a little," said Eli as she produced a pair of tweezers. "We women have to suffer for our art, don't we Sarah?"

I smiled. "Yes, mother." She laughed and leaned towards me.

It felt like Eli was taking my whole forehead off with the tweezers and I winced each time a hair came out. My eyes watered and I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. When it was done, she rubbed moisturiser into my skin and gently kissed me on the forehead. "There, that's better. Much more like a girl. Now, let's have a look at your nails."

My nails had always been quite long because I used to play the guitar until I sold it for a bottle of vodka to a guy in the pub I worked at. Eli filed them and tidied the cuticles and then painted them a soft shade of pearl pink. They glittered in the light of the room and made my hands, with their long fingers look more feminine.

Eli set to work on my make-up, applying a little foundation, eye liner, mascara and shadow, rouging my cheeks and then painting my lips with the same colour gloss with which she had done my nails. She removed the rollers brushed out my hair. Curls cascaded down my back and embraced my neck. Eli stepped back and looked at her handiwork, nodding with satisfaction. "My God, you're so like her," she whispered. I wanted to turn round and look, but she wouldn't let me. "Not till we're finished," she said.

She went to the dresser and opened the underwear drawer and took out a lace bra that matched the panties I was already wearing. I took off the dressing gown and she fastened the garment around my chest, pulling the straps up over my arms and adjusting the cups. She padded them with soft tissue and stood back again.

Next came the suspender belt and sheer silk stockings that rode up the smooth flesh of my legs and made me shiver again. Eli smiled knowingly but didn't say anything. Next came a white Charnos slip that fell down to my stocking tops. Eli looked in the wardrobe, fussing over the clothes there until she found a pale pink devore dress with a faint leaf pattern in the material. I stepped into it and she zipped up the back. The dress fitted perfectly, hugging every inch of my skin. She selected a pair of elegant three inch heels that she thought I would be able to walk in and I slipped my stocking feet into these and stood there quite comfortably. Finally, she finished the outfit off with a pair of pearl-drop earrings, a thin sliver necklace and a ladies watch and bracelet.

Eli beamed at me. I was trembling as I drew an anxious breath and turned to look in the mirror.

The person who stared back at me wasn't Bobby, tired and beaten and ready to give up. Bobby had been sucked away into some dark land and I wasn't sure he was going to return.

The person who stared back at me was pretty and sexy and her name was Sarah. The shadow and mascara excentuated my wide eyes and the brows were finely arched arabesques. My complexion was smooth and toned and the lips were slick with a pale pink gloss. Even my figure seemed totally feminine in the devore dress. And I had legs to die for. Eli stood beside me and said: "Welcome home, Sarah." Then she gave me a big hug.

The next two hours were spent teaching me to walk correctly and to speak like a girl. I found it quite easy to lighten my voice and Eli was pleased with my progress. She taught me to sit and stand properly and it wasn't long before I was moving unconsciously.

I had been swept into another existence. I felt small inside, as though my thoughts and being were squeezed into a penny size soul in the pit of my stomach. The stockings stretched over my legs, the dress moved with me and my dark locks of gently curling hair bounced softly across my shoulders.

In the kitchen, Eli poured two glasses of wine and we toasted Sarah's return. She too was staring at me differently. There wasn't that hint of confusion deep in her eyes. It was as if things had suddenly fallen into place for her. We sat and talked while we drank the wine. Eli kept calling me Sarah and seemed convinced that I was her daughter. I wondered then how she would react when I turned back into the frog prince.

Eli looked at her watch. "My God look at the time! We've got so much to do."

She got to her feet and went into the hallway, pulling on her coat. "Come on, Sarah."

I stared at her in horror. "I can't go out like this!"

"You're too beautiful to be cooped up inside. Now come on." She grabbed a long velvet coat with a black fur collar and held it out for me to put my arms in. I looked at myself in the hall mirror. I was a girl. There was no doubt about it. I was a girl. Wasn't I wearing a bra and panties, stockings and a dress? And look at my face, I thought. Isn't that a girl staring at me? I put my arms in the coat, pulling my hair out of the collar and fussing in the mirror for a second or two.

"Such a floosie," whispered Eli and I blushed again. She gave me a handbag into which she had put a make-up bag, a purse and a brush for my hair. "You should touch up your lips," advised Eli.

I took the lipstick out of the make-up bag, widened my lips and ran the gloss over the flesh there. It had a luxurious feel to it. I pressed my lips gently together and then pouted. God, I actually pouted. I put the make-up back and fastened the clip of the bag, hooking the strap over my shoulder.

"Well?" I asked.

"You look adorable."

She opened the door and I took a deep breath and followed her out. The grey winter light and fresh crisp air were the first things I noticed. The whisper of the wind was next, the elaborate interlocking of the skeletal tree branches ahead of me and the fine bubbles of melting frost on the bonnet of Eli's car, the way the path ahead trailed into the distance, drawing me forward. The cold heightened my senses. I could feel the silk bra resting across my chest, the panties clinging to my haunches, the stockings moving with each step, stroking me, soothing me.

I climbed in the car and sat down, my knees pressed together, cloud breath escaping over my luscious pink lips. "Promise me something," said Eli.

"What?"

"You'll be Sarah for the rest of Christmas? For me?"

"Okay." Sarah was inside me. Growing by the moment. I suddenly loved the fact that I wasn't Bobby anymore. I was Sarah. I was a girl. And I was glad to be. Eli drove into town and found a place to park. We went to the supermarket first and as I got out of the car, I prepared myself for discovery. My legs felt weak and I thought I wasn't going to be able to walk, but then Eli was by my side and she was leading me on.

The doors slid open and the warm air came at me. My heels clicked on the tiled floor and the scene ahead was bursting with life - checkout counter girls busily scanning groceries, customers with trolleys and baskets waiting in line, men, women and children wandering through the aisles. I imagined they were looking at me, sneaking furtive glances at me stood there in dress and stockings, hair draped around my shoulders, fur collar tickling my neck. I needed to pee badly all of a sudden. I told Eli in a shaky voice. She led me over to the public conveniences and said she'd wait outside.

"I can't go in alone," I whispered.

"Don't be a silly girl, Sarah. Of course you can. And don't forget to sit down."

I swallowed heavily and bumped into a man who was going towards the gents. His eyes met mine and his hand brushed fleetingly against my waist.

"Sorry, love," he smiled and stepped to one side to let me go first. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, pushing open the door to the ladies. I moved into one of the cubicles and closed it, standing there for a moment, feeling the dress clinging to my body, the hem wrapped around my stockinged thighs. I was going to explode with all the things assaulting my senses. When had I last felt this alive? I took off my coat and hitched up my skirt and pulled down the silk panties, sitting on the toilet. As I peed, I stared down at the lace roses on my stocking tops, the smooth flesh beneath the material and wondered what Claire would think of me now. Would she even recognise me? I finished peeing and pulled up the panties, straightening the skirt over my thighs. I flushed the toilet and pulled on the coat, taking another deep breath before stepping outside. There was a woman by the wash basins. She smiled at me saying something about Christmas. Dreamily, I set my bag down and washed my hands, staring at myself in the mirror. I liked the way my dark, thick lashes curled up towards the shaded lids, the way my eyebrows were neatly tapered arches, the way my earrings reflected the neon light, the way my lips looked coated in satin.

"Oh, I love that colour," said the woman. "It looks so good on you. What shade is it?"

I panicked a little as I dried my hands. "I-I don't know," I said in my most feminine voice. I rummaged in the bag and found my lipstick. "Pacific Peach," I added. I showed it to the woman.

"May I?" She asked and pressed the lipstick to her flesh and then handed it back to me.

"It was a present from my mother," I explained boldly and slipped the gloss over my own lips.

"Well, I have to get back to my Christmas shopping," said the woman and moved towards the door. "Have a good one."

"You too."

I fluffed my hair and continued looking at myself, turning this way and that, admiring how good I looked. Eli was right. I had nothing to be scared of. The world could fall in love with a girl like me. With that thought lingering in my mind, I was ready to face the world.

We spent half an hour in the supermarket, getting provisions for the Christmas weekend, drawing admiring glances from passing males which I quickly became accustomed to and deep inside welcomed. After that, we put the shopping bags in the back of the car and walked around the shops, stopping at a cafe for late lunch. Eli insisted on going to a clothes store and trying on some new outfits.

"It's what girls do," she cried.

She found a red satin halter-neck gown which she said I would look dreamy in and made me go into the changing rooms to try it on. I was confident enough to carry it off and wasn't even worried to see other women in there. Eli purred and fussed over my appearance and said I definitely had to have shoes and underwear to go with the outfit. I objected that it was a waste of money but Eli insisted and I couldn't refuse her.

We returned home at five o'clock and settled down in front of the fire with another glass of wine. I was exhausted but happy. It had felt so good to get out and enjoy life as someone else.

"You can't rest on your laurels, dear," said Eli with a hint of wickedness.

"What do you mean?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"So?"

"We can't stay in on a Christmas Eve. We'll get a cab back into town about eight and go to the pub. You can wear your new dress. Why do you think I bought it for you?"

"Yes, mother," I sighed and finished the last of the wine in my glass. I wanted to ask her how long she expected me to stay as Sarah and part of me hoped it could be for a long while. But I knew that couldn't happen. Sooner or later, I would have to come back to the real world. Still, I could let it go on for a while longer although the thought of going out to a pub as Sarah seemed very risqué. What if I got drunk and gave myself away?

What if this was your last day on Earth? Sarah countered inside me.

Another bath followed in strawberry scented water. After, Eli reset my hair, this time giving it a more flamboyant, evening-wear look with lots of curl and bounce. She took more effort with my makeup, ensuring that I looked as glamorous as possible for my night out, using dark colours and shocking red lipstick that seemed to dominate my features. Eli had bought some expensive breast inserts for me during the day and they fitted snugly inside the red satin wonder bra that I wore. This was an altogether new sensation - my chest actually had some weight to it and when I moved, the breasts wobbled enticingly. She gave me something else as well, a quite respectable cleavage. I slipped on a pair of matching panties and suspender belt and rolled the stockings up my legs. Then I stepped into the dress with its halter neck showing off my cleavage and the flared fifties style skirt accentuating my waist. The red stiletto shoes were a little high but I didn't have much trouble walking in them. The outfit was finished off by gold loop earrings and a red choker and matching clutch bag. I was amazed at how pretty I looked.

How absolutely dazzling!

Eli wore a long, off-the-shoulder velvet dress that complimented her figure perfectly. Together we looked like a million dollars. As we waited in the hallway for the cab to take us into town, Eli started telling me how she used to go out every Christmas Eve with Sarah and how it was nice to do it again. Outside, a car horn sounded. Eli opened the door and ushered me towards the waiting cab. She locked the door and followed me, linking my arm.

"We might meet some of your friends too," she whispered.

I stopped, the chill wind blowing at the hem of my dress. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they use the pub," Eli tried to guide me forward again but I resisted. The cab driver tooted impatiently on his horn.

"What the hell am I supposed to say? Hi, back from the dead, did you miss me?"

The words cut through Eli and she winced. "Please. Don't say that. You'll be alright," she pleaded.

"I'm not going."

Then she smiled slyly and waltzed towards the car. "Please yourself. You can sit out here and freeze to death in your sexy little frock." She climbed in the back of the cab and sat there waiting. The cold made me shiver. I thought of that night I sat down in the shed, ready to freeze to death. What could I do? I sashayed forward, my hips swaying and climbed in with her. The driver pulled out up the path and onto the road, heading into town.

"I didn't tell anyone," whispered Eli.

"What do you mean?"

"About Sarah. I went out to Bangkok to identify her body but I didn't say it was her. I couldn't. Then the policeman started telling me they had her passport and that it definitely was her. He didn't speak very good English. But he understood money. He understood it very well. I paid him for Sarah's belongings and he tagged her as a Jane Doe and I came back to England."

"Why?"

"I didn't want it to be her," she said after a moment. "Over time, I managed to convince myself that someday she would walk through that door and everything would be alright again."

"Oh, Eli. I'm so sorry. But I can't....Not forever."

"But for tonight?" She smiled. "I'll be with you. I'll be able to butt in when things get dicey."

I closed my eyes. "I must be crazy."

"You're beautiful. Now relax. They haven't seen you for a couple of years."

The cab drew up outside a pub called the White Horse and I could see from the shadows at the windows that the place was busy. Every pulse in my body was hammering away as I got out and we walked towards the door.

Heat and smoke blazed between the walls. I followed Eli, squeezing through the crowd, brushing against warm, damp bodies and feeling a rush of sensual excitement. Eli ordered two glasses of wine and we moved towards the back end of the pub where there was a dance floor and the heavy beat of music. We even managed to find a seat. The people were a blur, gyrating on the floor, laughing and joking in their drunkenness.

"I'm sorry, I tricked you," said Eli, putting a hand on my knee.

"Sarah?" A voice screamed from the crowd. My heart sank. "Oh-my-God! Is that you Sarah?"

"Angela," whispered Eli.

"Angela?" I sang. This was going to be difficult. Did I really have the confidence to carry this off? I took a big gulp of wine. The girl came forward dressed in a short black, shift number, make-up glittering on her cheeks. She grabbed my hands as I got to my feet, squeezing my fingers.

"You look fabulous," she made me give her a twirl. The skirt swished around my knees. "Where have you been?" Where have I been, I thought but before I could even begin to think of an answer, Angela was screaming at some other people. Suddenly I was surrounded by a hoard of people who had known me all there lives and I didn't recognise one of them. It was totally bizarre. Conversation spilled over me like a flood. Eli stood close and prompted when she felt it was need but how I got through that first hour I don't know. Eli left me once to replenish our drinks and all eyes were on me. How was Asia? How was Paris? Had I found myself a new man? How long was I back for? Could I come to someones New Year party?

Then a hand slipped around my slim waist and I felt the press of stubble to the soft skin of my neck. I turned with a scream and looked up. The man was a good four inches taller than me, handsome with short cropped hair and broad shoulders. He smiled and said: "Long time, no see."

"Jack!" Squealed Eli, standing on her toes to peck him on the cheek.

I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks and snatched up my bag, making my way to the ladies. Fortunately, there was a cubicle free and I went in there and slammed the door shut. Oh, God, there was a man. I could tell by the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, that Sarah once had a thing with him. What was I going to do now? A while later, Eli knocked at the door and I let her in.

"Who the hell is he?" I asked.

"Well...how can I put this?"

"In simple words so I can understand."

"You were supposed to marry him."

"Marry him!"

"You dated three years and then got engaged. You were madly in love with him but then you had some major tiff and that's when you went off on your travels. Honestly, Sarah. I didn't know he was here. He was supposed to be in Germany for Christmas."

"Well, I think we should go."

"That would be rude."

"Rude. Jesus, my ex-fiancee is out there."

"Oh, pull yourself together you silly girl. You can handle a mere man like Jack." She opened the door. "Now, come on. Fix your make-up and straighten our skirt. I feel like dancing."

I followed her reluctantly and put some more gloss on my lips. Then it was back to the bar and I figured the best way to avoid any trouble was to stay on the dance floor until I fainted with exhaustion. The skirt of my dress swept around my silken legs as I moved in time to the music, my hair brushing over my shoulders and I began to get that queasy feeling in my stomach again. The one that said this was the real me. I pushed it away and concentrated on the music. Song followed song and figures flashed before me. God knows what everyone else thought.

Around twelve, as last orders were being called, the romantic music started to play and boys and girls paired off, snogging each other hungrily. I took that as my queue to leave. I was really quite drunk and wondered how I had lasted this long. Then a strong hand grabbed mine and led me to the centre of the dance floor.

"No!" I cried. My breasts jiggled inside my bra cups.

He grabbed my waist and pulled me in close to him. My hands went automatically up to his broad shoulders.

"I take it you don't forgive me?" Said Jack.

The fingers of his right hand played with the locks of my hair. His other hand

pressed firmly into the small of my back pulling me in to him. God, I was wearing a pretty little red dress, high heels and stockings and I was dancing with a man who seemed to be devouring me with his eyes. I felt so small and helpless in his arms. And there was something else. Something I didn't want to admit. That I felt protected by his strength. That thought too, I pushed away.

"All I can say is I'm sorry," he added. "I never meant to hurt you." We were moving slowly round the dance floor, hips grinding gently together. Without thinking, I let the red painted nails of one hand trail through the hair above his open shirt. He took that as a cue to run his hand smoothly over my buttocks, following the line of my panties to the stocking tops. I shivered and at that moment he pressed his lips to mine. For a second, I hung there absorbed in the sensation of his touch, wrapped in the certainty that he found me attractive and wanted me. Then the fog of drunkenness cleared in my head and I recoiled.

"I can't!"

Eli was there right on cue (maybe just a little late) to save me. "Our cab's here, Sarah," she said and led me away from his arms. "My, my," she said and giggled.

"It's not funny," I said. Don't look back! I thought. Whatever you do, don't look back. You know if you do, he'll be staring at you and then he'll know how you feel. I tried not to look back but as I reached the door I couldn't help it. Hair swept across my shoulders. May painted nails pressed against the door. My underwear clung to my flesh. A delightful shiver coursed down my spine. Jack stood there, hands in pockets smiling. I could have kicked myself.

"Admit it," said Eli as we sat in front of the fire back at home. "You enjoyed it."

I was sat on the floor, the skirt of my dress flaring over my legs so that only the red court shoes with their spike heels showed.

"He scared the life out of me," I said.

"You loved every minute. I saw the way you looked at him."

I blushed again and managed a smile. "What's happening to me?"

"You're Sarah. That's what's happening."

We talked till two in the morning and then I was exhausted. My day as Sarah had been an experience. Eli had laid out a beautiful negligee set on the bed and I changed out of the dress and underwear and put it on. The night-dress fell over my body, cool and sheer and comforting. I slipped on the dressing gown and sat in front of the mirror taking off the make-up with cleanser and cotton wool. I tied my hair back with a silver band and brushed my teeth. Then I slipped in between the sheets and let sleep take me. I dreamt that I was Sarah and that I was stood in a church wearing the most beautiful ivory wedding dress with a low cut back and flared skirt. There was a man standing down by the altar, his back turned towards me. As I walked in time to the music, the candlelight glittering off the beaded dress, I passed Eli who smiled dreamily at me. When I got to the altar, the groom turned and I saw that it was me, the male side of me. Two halves being joined to make a whole.

Weird.

I woke early and lay there in my night-dress, staring at the ceiling, running my hands over the soft, silken material, thinking about the wedding dress and how I would love to try something like that on. Being the centre of attention as if I was a beautiful princess. I climbed out of bed and showered, letting the soap suds caress my body, feeling the smooth flesh and wondering what it would be like to have real breasts. After I dried myself, rubbing my long hair dry with a towel, I sat in front of the dressing table mirror and massaged moisturiser into my face. Then I set about my makeup, trying to achieve a natural, daytime look. You're Sarah, I told myself and that seemed to help. Liner glided over my eyelids, the shadow spread in a pale brown stain below my arched brows. Mascara lengthened and curled my lashes, a gentle hint of blusher brought colour to my cheeks. A mauve lip gloss finished off the look I had wanted when I began. That was okay. I looked pretty. I put in a pair of hoop earrings and tied a gold chain around my neck, then brushed out my hair until it was soft and bouncy. Even better. I looked more pretty now.

I selected a pair of silk briefs and a garter belt and rolled a pair of sheer black stockings up my calves, over my knees and up my thighs fastening them to the garters. I found a lace and satin bra and hooked that up, pulling the straps over my arms and putting the inserts in place. I stared at myself for a moment. I could almost have been a lingerie model in a catalogue. I tried a few seductive poses and found myself giggling like a school girl.

I went to the wardrobe and looked through Sarah's clothes. My clothes. Nothing too ostentatious I felt. Not on Christmas Day. I chose an embroidered mesh skirt with a black satin slip and a dark grey cardigan with sequins sewn into the wool. With these I wore a pair of low heel strap sandals and to finish off I painted my nails the same shade of pink as Eli had done when I first got dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror.

Good enough to eat. For a second, I felt Jacks arms slip around my waist. My feelings ran riot for that time, and I moaned with pleasure before I forced it away. That couldn't be right. I didn't even know him.

I went down to the kitchen and made Eli and myself a cup of tea and took them up to her room. Eli rolled over sleepily and then opened her eyes.

"My," she said. "Let me look at you."

I stood back and let her survey my handiwork. "Not bad for a first effort, don't you think."

"You're a natural," she added and sat up. "So, have you decided."

"Decided, what?"

"You know what I mean."

I got to my feet and went over to the mirror and looked at myself. How much time could I spend preening myself in front of it. I didn't want to leave it's all-seeing gaze.

"Oh, Eli," I whispered. "I'm so confused."

Eli got out of bed and came up beside me. "I don't think you are. I think you know exactly what you want."

"I so want to be Sarah. I do. But it's not possible."

Eli smiled. "I'm not a poor woman, you may have noticed." She touched my hair. "And there are things we can do. People who can help us. We can start with hormones and work towards the rest. I guarantee that in a years time you will be Sarah and no one, not even Jack, will be able to tell the difference." She pulled me to her and gave me a hug. "All you have to say is that it's what you want."

Tears filled my eyes. "I want to be Sarah, Eli. I want to be Sarah so badly."

"Then you are," she said. "I can't wave a magic wand. But I can work some magic. From now on you are Sarah. Welcome home, dear."

 

 

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