You meant it for evil - 12 by Maeryn Lamonte Tarquin! Who calls their child Tarquin these days? Filled with trepidation I thanked the driver who was holding my door, scooped up my immense skirts and slid inside. Trying my hardest to mask my mixed feelings I turned to my companion and smiled in greeting.

-oOo-
Sh!t, he was gorgeous. I felt my breath catch as I took in his deep blue eyes and short, curly blond hair. He had a relaxed and easy smile and a trim figure. His languid smile broadened as he noticed my reaction.

“I get that a lot.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You know, when you saw me for the first time and it took your breath away? I imagine it happens to you all the time too.”

“Not that I'd noticed.”

“You should look for it. I imagine it happens more often than you would think. Doesn't mean anything of course, just a trick of nature. I'm Tarquin by the way.”

He held out his hand and I found myself warming to him. Ok, so he knew he looked good, at least he didn't take it seriously.

“Elizabeth, but my friends call me Liz.”

“Is that an invitation?”

The question made me smile. I wasn't sure if it was insecurity or politeness, but in either case it went in his favour.

“I should think so. How did you get landed with a name like Tarquin?”

“I know it's dreadful isn't it? Everyone keeps asking if I'm gay. I suppose mother thought it was upper class or something. Made school a bit of a drag; meant I had to work out some so people wouldn't take the piss all the time. Worked though, I hardly ever had to hit anyone.”

The voice was plummy with a decidedly high society accent, but natural, not affected. The way he spoke was laid back to the point of not caring what people thought. I guess it went with the territory though. Either he was so privileged that he didn't give a rat's arse or he was so sick of people sucking up to him because he was good looking and talked posh that he was beyond caring. I suspected — and hoped for the latter.

“So how'd you get into this line of business then?”

He laughed.

“You have to use your assets Liz. I was a disappointment to my parents academically. All that bloody money wasted on private education and I scarcely scraped two 'A' levels. Father was too terrified of what I might do if he put me in the army and there was sod all else about for a thicko like me. Then mother had the idea of using my looks, asked around her friends, who asked theirs. Eventually I was introduced to someone who ran a male escort service and I was considered suitably qualified, so here I am.

“Make pots of money at it too, though the fossils insist I invest most of it. In about ten years I'll already be too old for this crap, and if I haven't found another way of making a living by then I'll need the cash to keep me going. Frankly I'm hoping to meet some sweet young girl with pots of money of her own and marry into a life of luxury and ease. How about you?”

“I suppose I'm in a similar position to you. I've only just started modelling, but I suspect I'll be looking for something different in ten years. I'm not thinking about it for now though, I have enough things happening in my life to keep me busy and interested.”

“Ah. Bloody shame you're not rich, otherwise I'd be turning on the old charm. Sorry I appear to be swearing rather a lot, hope it doesn't bother you.”

“As long as you clear it out of your system before we arrive. I'm not sure Karen would be that pleased otherwise.”

“Oh don't worry, I'll be good when we get there. I just want to make sure that I'm not upsetting you.”

We settled into silence and I tried to bring my clothing under control. The inside of the limo was immense, but somehow my skirts were trying their hardest to fill all available space. My clothing and I reached an impasse which became something of an acceptable compromise. Tarquin was looking out at the traffic with a bored expression on his face. I decided to try and tap him for information.

“So, have you been to anything like this before? This is my first one and I could do with a bit of a clue as to what to do.”

He shrugged.

“Just smile and wave my dear. Lean on my arm and smile and wave. There'll be a stack load of reporters when we first get out of the car, so be prepared with that smile and try not to blink too much. Inside I've never really noticed. Usually whoever I'm with gets carted off in some direction and I'm left to go looking for a glass of wine and some hors d'oeuvres. Generally we leave together doing as good an impression as we can of not being pissed out of our brains and then it's off home to bed. Sorry I can't be more help.”

The silence reasserted itself and I decided it was probably for the best. Apart from our professions putting us in similar positions, we really didn't have that much in common. Eventually we arrived at the gallery where the launch was being held and the limousine pulled up outside. Tarquin touched my arm lightly.

“Wait until the driver opens the door for you, climb out as gracefully as you can — believe me there will be a lot of cameras — then step to the right and wait for me. I'll follow you out and offer you my arm, then we go in smiling and waving.”

It didn't sound too hard and turned out to be good advice as I was half blinded by the cameras flashing. Having his arm to hold onto helped keep me steady and meant that I could walk even though I could hardly see. Once safely inside, Karen came over and rescued me and Tarquin gave me a cheerful wave before drifting off in search of refreshments. I turned to Karen.

“That's all he does?”

“That and escort you out when you leave. I suppose I could ask him to stay with you if you want, but I thought you wanted to meet some people.”

“No it's not that, it's just... well let's say I'm glad Mike didn't come tonight.”

“Oh it's different when you bring a guest, he gets to stay with you through most of the evening. The problem with doing it with rent-a-gent is that what looks good for the cameras doesn't survive closer scrutiny. Any relationship between yourself and the man you're with comes over as false and that puts the rest of the evening in a bad light.

“Your main job tonight is to talk to the women about the different clothes you wore in the photo-shoot. Sell everything as best you can without overdoing it if you know what I mean. If you take some time from that job to talk about your other interests then as far as I'm concerned it will only help portray you as an honest and intelligent young girl, so all the more to be trusted in your advice about the Elle-gance line.”

And so began a long and very frustrating evening, As I was introduced to a group of people, I would start by talking about the clothes to the women, answering questions about how certain dresses felt and moved, then, based largely on complexion and build — and apparent social standing; I mean you wouldn't suggest a shell suit to the queen would you? — I would suggest one or two other outfits I thought might look good. Everyone had copies of the new catalogue, so it was easy to flip through the pages and point out the clothes in question. Then when we'd done talking business, they'd invariably ask about my interests and I'd say a bit about cooking and decorating and a lot about the homeless, usually directing my attention to the men at that point.

When it reached the point where I would suggest ways in which they could become involved, things would begin to fall apart. Members of Parliament who were even vaguely involved in the problem would shy away from my questions and suggestions and tell me to write them a letter whereas businessmen weren't interested in talking about their charitable giving or whether they had any disused and soon to become derelict buildings.

I guess I was too much of an unknown quantity, I mean attractive eighteen year old girls like me aren’t generally known for talking about real world issues, except perhaps to pledge for world peace in beauty pageants. After a while I took a different tack and started asking what I could do or say that would convince them I was serious enough for them to invest some time or money into my ideas, at which point they started talking about business plans and real time strategies that took into account time scales, staffing, financing and the like. As Ken, I had studied this as part of my degree so I was able to talk sensibly enough off the cuff to raise a few eyebrows and earn me enough promises that they would read and consider anything I presented to them in the future.

I managed to keep a congenial face all through the evening, something that became significantly harder as my frustration level grew and my feet began to ache. Eventually things began to wind down and once the party had reduced to a few stragglers, all deep in their own conversations and no longer interested in talking about clothing, Karen came and found Charlotte and me to tell us we could go. I collected Tarquin from where he was chatting amiably with what I imagined had to be some friends of his parents, and we walked out together still smiling for the few die-hard cameramen who, Tarquin warned me, were looking for less than flattering shots to plaster over the tabloids.
Once in the car I slid angry feet out uncomfortable shoes and submitted to their barking at me for a few minutes over the way I had abused them then, once they had settled down I closed my eyes for a moment.

I woke up to a gentle nudging to find myself leaning against a well-muscled arm. I backed off in alarm and embarrassment, which doubled when I noticed that I had been dribbling a little in my sleep.

“Oh sh!t I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. Oh look at your jacket.”

I hunted in my purse for tissues and started sponging away at the damp spot on his arm. Tarquin laughed and took the tissue from my hands.

“It's nothing and I really didn't mind. Look you were exhausted and it seemed best to let you sleep. I wouldn't have woken you now, except we've arrived at your flat.

“I've enjoyed this evening more than usually, I mean I know we were only together for the limo ride to and from, but it was nice to be treated as a person rather than a commodity. If you ever want to do something like this again, I'll be glad to oblige, even to follow you around and shake hands if you want.”

“Thank-you. Er, you should know I'm in a relationship.”

“Of course you bloody well are. Someone as beautiful as you, you'd be spoilt for choice. Strictly business Liz, with maybe a little bit of friendship. No benefits expected though.”

“Well when you put it like that, I'll give it some serious thought.”

I reached over and kissed him on the cheek, then had to retrieve my tissue to clean the lipstick off his face.

“Goodnight Tarquin.”

I retrieved my shoes and stepped out of the car, thanking the stoically waiting driver on the way. There was a light under Sharon's door so I took a chance and knocked lightly. A moment later the dressing gown clad form of my friend and neighbour cracked open the door and peered out, smiling openly once she saw it was me.

“I need to get out of this very elegant torture device, but if you want to pop over for a chat I think I have a few more minutes before I turn into a pumpkin.”

By the time I had changed out of the dress — being sure to hang it up neatly of course — and taken a quick revitalising shower, Sharon was waiting with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. She listened patiently as I spoke of the brick wall I had spent all evening banging my head against. Ok, lousy grammar, but I'm tired alright. You try walking around on tiptoes with your boobs strapped up wearing a dress that's constantly trying to tangle your legs for five hours and tell me you'd do any better. And ok, I'm a bit ratty, but then I'm tired and frustrated.

Sharon did the best thing a friend could do. She listened then she gave me a hug and sent me off to bed.

-oOo-
I awoke with my arms wrapped around a pillow to the sound of an insistent buzzing coming from the living room. Nursing a muggy head, I stumbled through to the intercom and mumbled something unintelligible into the mouthpiece. Mike's cheery, if somewhat distorted, voice responded.

“Hey Liz, do you know how long ago the dawn chorus was?”

I pressed the door release until I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs then headed for the kitchen and set the caffeine-omatic about its business. It took me a few moments to register that there was still a locked door between Mike and me and shuffled back into the living room to let him in.

He gave me an approving look which had to be one of the best acting jobs of all time given that my hair was a Medusa's tangle, my face a study in gormlessness and my nightclothes a rather short and rumpled tee-shirt nightie with something cute and nondescript on the front. Oh, short. Legs. I guess there was something to look at. He reached in to kiss me but I pushed him away.

“No, I haven't brushed my teeth yet.”

They actually felt a little furry and I headed for the bathroom where other business awaited my pleasure too.

“Coffee's brewing. Help yourself when it's done.”

I showered and etceteraed in record time for a zombie, then made the world’s slowest dash for the bedroom, wrapped only in a towel. This was going to be a jeans and jumper day and stuff the fashion business. My toes were still aching from those shoes and I relished the thought of trainers or at the very least flats for the day. Besides which I wouldn't need much of a heel to find myself looking down on Mike, and I didn't want to do that to him.

I tried untangling my hair, but it would take too long and I needed my morning fix. I carried my hairbrush through to the kitchen and handed it to Mike in exchange for the coffee he offered me, then sat with my back to him and breathed in the fumes of life. For a bloke he caught on pretty quick and I could have purred at the double pleasure of that first cup and having someone brush through my hair.

“Do I dare ask how it went last night?”

He found a knot and teased at it gently until it gave way. About the same time my revitalised brain kicked in and I uttered my first comprehensible statement of the morning.

“From the Karen's point of view it went brilliantly. Charlotte and I wowed the crowd to the extent that she was running out of space in her order book. For me personally it was less wonderful. Five hours standing in three inch heels was no picnic and, although I managed to talk to a lot of the right people about the whole homeless issue, none of them would take me seriously enough to hear me out.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Come up with a business plan. Show them the financial sense of it all. Start writing to my MP and every MP on the committee dealing with the homeless issue right now. Keep doing that 'til somebody listens.”

“Good for you. Hopefully you don't plan to start today though?”

I favoured him with the brightest smile in the box.

“No today is all about us.”

“Great, maybe I can have my good morning kiss now.”

He'd earned it. Extra-special, super-sized with a side order of mmmmn.

“So how was my replacement?”

Residual cerebral mugginess prevented me from understanding immediately. He stuck out the crook of his arm in pantomime and light dawned.

“He was really sweet in vaguely nice-but-dim sort of way. Tarquin if you'd believe it. Definite hunk, but not really my type.”

I drained the second half of my mug and felt life and civilisation return to normal.

“So what are we going to do today?”

“D'you have any wellies or shoes you don't mind getting muddy?”

“I think I can find some. This isn't going to involve walking miles is it?”

“Not really, at least not for you. Not unless you want to at least.”

“I'm intrigued.”

“Good, nothing like a bit of anticipation to whet the appetite. You'll need a warm coat as well. Weather's smiling on us, but there is a bit of a chill in the air.”

We climbed into Mike's Range Rover — it still felt odd climbing up into a car — and headed north towards Epping. Mike wouldn't be drawn on where we were going and I had no clue until, without warning, we turned off onto a very narrow unmade track.

“Did that just say...?”

The sickly sweet smell of fresh manure assaulted our nostrils before we turned the last corner to be confronted with churned up mud and a half dozen ramshackle buildings. Mike switched off the engine and a gentle nickering could be heard from the nearest barn. I couldn't contain my grin and Mike returned it with his own twisted smile.

“My cousin runs the place. Come on I'll introduce you.”

And we were off, picking our way through the slurry towards the nearest and, by a short margin, least dilapidated structure. Mike knocked and pushed his way in. A heavily built woman in her early thirties looked up and beamed at him.

“Mike, it's been way too long. What brings you out here?”

“Katie, I'd like you to meet Liz, the most wonderful girl in the world. Liz my cousin Katie, the other most wonderful girl in the world.”

Smiles and handshakes later, Katie turned to Mike and said in something of a stage whisper.

“What are you thinking Mike? She's far too young and pretty for you.” Then to me. “What do you see in this decrepit old fossil?”

“Oh I'm only into him for the money. When he retires in a year or so, I'll strap him to the bed and ride him 'til his heart gives out.”

Katie's gay hoots of laughter told me I'd gauged her about right. Mike's red face would just have to serve him right for introducing me to family without warning. Laughter subsided and Katie wiped genuine tears from her eyes.

“And I suppose that's what you're here for is it? Riding lessons.”

The prospect was exciting and I looked over at Mike with eager schoolgirl eyes. He shrugged.

“I wasn't sure if you'd ever done this before, but I thought it might be fun.”

Once Katie had kitted us out with the necessary safety gear, she led us to a staging area where we were introduced to the two most laid back horses you're even likely to meet. Mine was a chestnut brown gelding, fifteen hands high so I was told, with a messy white splash between his (its?) eyes. He turned docile eyes my way and I felt my apprehension ease a little. Katie started her little spiel.

“It's important to feel confident when approaching a horse. There's not much you can do about their size, I mean most of the exhilaration of horse riding is the feeling of half a ton of muscle beneath you, so instead we start you off with our gentlest creatures so you can reach that point of trusting them.”

I was helped up into my saddle, Mike swinging into his like a pro, and for the next hour or so we learnt the commands necessary to direct the horses. Mike tried to hide his expression, but it was obvious he had done this before and was bored out of his mind. For me the novelty was enough to keep me excited and before long Katie declared us both ready for the next bit.

The two quieter horses were led away and another two with a livelier step and an alert expression replaced them. Mine was a beautiful palomino mare named Wind Dancer who tossed her head at me as I approached. Katie came up to me and whispered in my ear.

“Try to channel that apprehension into excitement. The more you take control here, the quicker you'll have her doing what you want instead of the other way around.”

I was excited and as I focused on that feeling I felt the early stages of fear melt into the more positive feeling. I approached my new mount with growing confidence. She nickered and pulled her head up, but I took the bridle and held her still, stroking her nose and calming her with quiet words. Some of my practice on the quieter horses had involved mounting and dismounting, so when I felt she was ready, I swung up into the saddle. She tried to sidestep on me, but I was ready for her and made it up safely, tugging the reins to keep her still.

The lessons continued, through trotting and cantering until Katie felt that we were ready to head out into the fields. Actually it was more me than we, Mike had so obviously done this before and was a consummate horseman. We trotted out into the open and Wind Dancer decided that she'd had enough of plodding about. I could feel her muscles bunching under me and just managed to tighten my own grip as she launched into a full gallop. For a moment I was going to try and haul her in, but then the exhilaration took me and I bent low to her back and let her have her head.

What a rush, hair whipping about behind me, wind streaking past. She was heading for a fence and I didn't feel ready for any air time just yet so I firmly dug in a knee and pulled her head to one side. She responded and I felt the double thrill that came with my sense of control over her. Mike eased alongside, his worried expression melting into a mirror of my own as I smiled back my delight.

After what seemed like an age I felt Wind Dancer ease her pace a little and I pulled her back into a canter then a gentle trot. Mike pulled up alongside me.

“You're a natural.”

“I hope so. I can see myself doing a lot of this.”

“I'm glad. I've been doing this since I was about twelve when Katie got her first horse. This is the first time I've found anyone to share it with though.”

The regular motion between my legs began to have a secondary effect on me and Mike turned his head away from me as a strangely distracted cross-eyed look settled on my features.

“Oh my, I am definitely doing this again.”

Mike's laugh came back to me from a respectful distance.

“If that's going to happen to you on a regular basis, you're going to have to learn to hide it better.”

No-one else was watching and Mike seemed ok with it, so I gave in to the sensations that flooded through me. Part of me imagined I was with Mike instead of the rather sturdy lady between my legs and before long I was biting my lip, trying not to moan out loud. Eventually I had to stop and dismount, my legs all but collapsing as I made it back onto Terra Firma.

Mike came to join me and we let the horses graze for a while as we lay back on the damp grass and looked out over the busy city in the distance.

“I thought you were trying to make me jealous again back there.”

I laughed and kissed him.

“I may have been with her, but all the time I was thinking of you my sweet.”

Nothing needed to be said. It was enough to be lying there in the crook of his arm, leaning my head on his chest and feeling his gentle hand stroking my hair. I tried to imagine myself as Ken in Mike's place right now and knew I wouldn't have been happier.

All too soon Mike checked his watch and nudged me.

“Come on, we'd better be getting back or Katie will be sending out search parties.”

The horses hadn't gone far and seemed to have regained their wind a little. Wind Dancer was a lot more accommodating as I climbed up into her saddle, then Mike called out his challenge to race me back and startled his own mount into a gallop. I dug my own feet in and my new friend responded with eagerness. We caught up with Mike, who I suspect wasn't trying that hard, and eased in alongside. We raced back down the path together, only easing the pace as the stable came into view.

Katie was waiting as we dismounted, obviously enjoying a certain amount of vicarious pleasure from the expression on my own face. She took a firm hold on my arm and dragged me away.

“Let me show you where the loo is.”

I was grateful to her as I needed a little bit of a clean-up. She had some sanitary pads available which helped a little, but I was going to need a change of clothes soon.

“If you don't want the distraction, wear a pad when you ride. At least that way you can control how much you enjoy yourself.”

We re-joined Mike in the office and I went over to hang on his arm.

“I'm sorry love but I'm going to have to go home for a change of clothes.”

He shrugged.

“Katie thanks so much for this morning, it has been a truly memorable experience.”

“You're welcome any time Liz. Just give me a day or so warning so I can put a horse aside for you.”

“How about this afternoon?”

I looked up at Mike and he laughed, shaking his head.

“No I think this is something else we're going to have to ration you on. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

“Thanks cuz. I suspect we'll be paying you a visit next week sometime.”

We headed back to the car with me still dangling from Mike's arm, suffused in a warm afterglow. As we climbed up into the Range Rover again I saw it in a slightly different light.

“Well at least now I know why you have such an enormous car. I was worried that you were compensating for something.”

“What makes you think I'm not?”

I spent the drive back gazing over at him, drinking in all that was good about him. Sometime soon I would have to do something for him to show those feelings. I was so engrossed that I didn't notice the roundabout way he drove us home. It was approaching one o'clock when we pulled up near to the flat. For some reason there were a lot more cars than usual and we had to park a little way down the road. Still not even the neighbours having another party was going to spoil my mood.

“So what are we going to do this afternoon? Do you have any more surprises in store for me?”

I slid the key into my door and pushed it open.

“Surprise!”

The joint yell caught me totally off guard and I turned an entirely gob-smacked face towards the laughter of just about everyone I knew.

-oOo-
Sharon, wearing a short blue dress that was all frills and flounces, grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the bedroom.

“Yours is in the bathroom Mike.”

It sounded like Phil but looked more like one of the Bash Street Kids. Totally bemused I allowed myself to be led to my room and the purple dress lying on the bed.

“Sharon, what is this?”

“Sort of an impromptu flat warming. We went for the afternoon so that Mike could join in. He's been running interference for us, keeping you distracted while we got the place ready. Don't worry none of the decorations are stuck on; we wouldn't want to ruin the fantastic job you did on this place.”

“But I mean... this.”

I waved at her dress and the dress on the bed.

“Well you remember telling me that one of your regrets was missing out on growing up as a girl? I decided to do something about that. Your friend Elizabeth's twelve year old daughter has been very helpful in deciding all the things we're going to do this afternoon, and what party food to get.

“Come on, get dressed. You're missing all the fun.”

It was the sweetest dress ever. A deep rich purple with puffed sleeves and a short puffball skirt. It came with sparkly thigh high stockings with little purple bows at the top and a pair of matching purple Mary Janes. It looked ridiculous, but in the most amazing little girl way. I looked over at Sharon in an equally daft little girl party dress and arm in arm, laughing at the idiocy of it all, we re-joined the others.

Karen was there, also in bows and lace, but perhaps a little less cutesy, and so was Elizabeth with a young girl standing very close and holding onto her skirts. I went straight over and crouched down to speak to her.

“You must be Cassie, you're mum has told me so much about you. My friend tells me you helped with all this is that right?”

She looked uncertainly up at her mum, then encouraged by her smile gave me a nod.

“Can you show me all the things you did?”

And like that we were best of friends and she was chatting to me about all the games and presents and party food we were going to enjoy.

“I don't know about this, isn't there anything else I can wear?”

It was Mike just coming out of the bathroom and looking a lot like Phil in his shorts and blazer. He looked kind of cute, but embarrassed. I put my finger on my lips and winked at Cassie before sauntering over to him.

“We could always swap if you like.”

He turned and his eyes came out on stalks.

“Oh no, I don't think that would be fair on the world. Ok it's worth making a fool of myself for this.”

In addition to those already mentioned were some of Sharon's friends, notably those who'd been kind to Ken when our dates had gone sour. I allowed Sharon to introduce me to them and soon enough we were all chatting and laughing with Cassie slowly gaining confidence enough to join in.

The afternoon was a riot of party games from pass the parcel to musical bumps to twister. The drinks were all fizzy and mostly glow in the dark, the food the usual party fair of sausages on stick and similar. Jelly and ice-cream featured as did a cake in the shape of a house and even presents. I ended up with a beautiful porcelain doll from Mike, a negligée which left nothing to the imagination from Sharon, a full professional makeup kit from Karen, a silver photo frame from Phil with a picture of Mike and me sitting, holding hands in our party clothes. I remembered seeing the flash go off, but hadn't seen him sneak out to print it off. Sharon's friends gave me various little knick-knacks, each of which was given its own place on a shelf somewhere, and Elizabeth and Cassie gave me a My Little Pony with a rainbow coloured mane.

Silly to be so thrilled over such a thing but I was and spent the next half hour talking to Cassie about horses and the amazing time I'd had in that morning.

“I wonder if your Mum would let me take you riding one day soon?”

“Really? Can I Mum?”

“I don't know, I wouldn't want to impose.”

“Call it a thank-you for all your work with the party, besides it would be my pleasure. Any excuse for going to the stables again.”

We sort of pencilled in the following Saturday morning and I hoped Mike wouldn't mind sharing me for the day.

All too soon my favourite man was changing to go to work.

“Will you wear that for me tonight?”

“Only if you serve us in your shorts and blazer. Don't worry, I'll find something just as spectacular.”

“I'll see you about eight-thirty then.”

“Eight-thirty. I'll be counting the seconds.”

“Ten thousand eight hundred, ten thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine.”

“Silly. You have to go before I start counting.”

I gave him another sixty-seconds worth of attention then pushed him out the door.

The party wound down rapidly after that, the rubbish all gathered into a couple of bin bags, the banners untied and put away, the helium balloons rescued from the ceiling and used for the obligatory silly voice nonsense, then it was time for everyone to go and Sharon/Cassie pulled out their final triumph and made me stand at the door thanking everyone for coming and handing out party bags. It was a perfect afternoon to follow the perfect morning.

-oOo-
Phil, Sharon and I were sitting around over coffee, chatting our way lazily into the evening. Phil had changed out of his Tom Brown gear but Sharon and I, much to his evident delight, were still wearing our party dresses.

“Sharon, this was brilliant. I thought you had gone crazy when we first arrived, but I can't remember when I’ve enjoyed myself more.”

“Well credit where credit's due, Phil had a hand in persuading me that it would be fun, and it wouldn't have been anywhere near as authentic without Cassie's input.”

“I assume the dresses were hired. It's a shame because I rather like this one.”

“Actually yours isn't. Call it another thing to remind you of the day and you 'childhood'.”

She did the thing with the fingers at the end. I gave her a much deserved hug.

“You are so good to me.”

A glance at my watch told me what I didn't want to know and I let out a tired sigh.

“Better start getting ready for tonight. Do you want to borrow anything?”

“Ooh goody, I was hoping you'd say something like that.”

We dashed off into my bedroom to do clothes leaving Phil shaking his head. As far as he was concerned all he needed was his jacket and he was ready.

I decided to wear my Emerald Radiance, a dress I loved despite the pretentious name, and Sharon settled on a gorgeous black dress I hadn't had chance to wear yet. I didn't begrudge her the choice for a second; I was only glad to be able to give her something back for all her hard work.

Despite all the usual fussing about, we made it to Mike's with five minutes spare. As before he came out of his kitchen to greet us — cleaner whites this time I noticed — and led us to the same central table as the previous week.

Again, at Mike's instigation, we did the where-did-you-get-those-lovely-dresses routine. Again we had a slightly more than polite amount of interest from the people sitting nearby. The evening was a close copy of the Friday before last, with less food and drink and more of Mike's company, all of which was an improvement. We ate at a leisurely pace and, even with the occasional interruptions from other patrons to ask about the dresses, we were still done by ten.

Mike insisted we stay and plied us with more coffee and liqueurs as incentive. We settled into a companionable silence, each of us mulling through our own thoughts. For myself I was reflecting on yet another perfect day. I couldn't imagine one thing that could have made it better, except on reflection there was a quietly nagging wrongness running right the way through. Sharon noticed my expression and, when Phil headed off to ease some of the internal strain, she came round the table to me.

“What's up sweetie?”

“I'm going to have to tell him Sharon. We can't have a relationship based on a lie.”

She went very still, her pallid expression losing even more of its colour.

“Liz, no, he won't understand. It doesn't matter what you were, you're all girl now, mentally, emotionally, physically, so what does it matter what you were? What does it matter that he doesn't know?”

“Because it happened. Because someday, somehow, somewhere Sod's Law will make sure that he'll find out and if he has to find out from someone, I'd rather it was from me.”

“But how is he going to find out?”

“I don't know, maybe you or Phil will have a few too many one day and say something. I know you won't mean to, but you can't guarantee that it won't happen can you? And what about when I tell my family? Because that will happen one day and I don't have any faith in my Mum not making some comment. Who knows, it might even be me who let's something slip.”

“What's up?”

Sh!t things must be bad if Phil's noticed.

“Liz just said she's going to tell Mike.”

And possibly worse if it can make the blood drain from his face like that.

“Why would you do that?”

So I had to explain my point of view all over again. Honestly, isn't it obvious, or is it me that's missing something?

“What happened? I thought everyone was having a great time.”

And now Mike. I looked around the restaurant. There were maybe half a dozen tables still occupied, and they were all on dessert or coffee. If he couldn't take a bit of time off now, then when could he?

“Mike can we talk?”

His turn for the pasty face.

“Oh God.”

“No it's nothing like that. I've had a brilliant day, a brilliant week in fact, and I want it to keep on forever. This isn't me trying to dump you or anything like that.”

“Then what?”

“Can we go for a walk?”

He made a quick scan of the restaurant and came to the same conclusion as me.

“I'll tell the guys and meet you at the door.”

Sharon and Phil looked at each other then back at me.

“Liz, please don't do this. You have such a great thing going on, why can't you let it be?”

“For once Liz, listen. Sharon's right, nothing good can come from this.”

“I'm sorry guys. This has been such a great day, and it's almost all because of you two and Mike, but it hurts to have this secret from him. I have to trust that what we've built this week matters enough to him.

“Would you mind staying here in case it goes pear shaped? And Phil remember, no matter what happens be his friend.”

He nodded reluctantly and I headed for the door where Mike was waiting with my coat.

He led the way down a path into the park area. It was dark, the moon not yet risen, but the sky was brilliant with stars. I tried a few opening lines inside my head, settled on one. Probably not the best, but better than the others.

“Mike, if I had a secret, you know something that would be a real unpleasant shock to you, would you rather hear it from me, or have me keep quiet in the hope that no-one else said anything to clue you in?”

He laughed nervously.

“If you're trying to tell me you used to be a man then I'm not buying it.”

Sh!t, talk about going straight to the point. My face froze into a mask and there must have been enough light for him to notice.

“No! You have to be kidding!”

I grabbed his arms and turned him towards me. At first he refused to meet my gaze.

“Mike, Mike. Listen Mike, you’re making all the wrong assumptions again, and who can blame you? Listen, I'm all girl; double X chromosomes and everything. I get all crabby several days out of every month, I enjoy shopping for clothes and shoes, I say things that make a weird kind of sense without obeying the laws of logic; in short I am one hundred per cent woman.

“Which makes the next bit so much harder to believe, and even harder to say. Mike I don't want there to be any secrets or lies between us; I can't live like that. The whole reason the mood went south back there was because I was thinking about this wonderful day that I've had, that you helped to make possible, and I had this nagging sense of wrongness going through it. I'm hoping I can tell you this and we can work through it because I never felt about anyone the way I felt about you when we first met, and in just one week those feelings have grown a million times bigger. I hate that I have to put this on you, but I can't see an alternative. I'd rather be honest with you now and risk losing you than try to keep it hidden and come home one day in a month, a year, a decade and find you with a look on your face like the one you have now.”

We found a park bench in the dark and sat. Mike looked everywhere but at me, his mind fighting for something to grasp hold of. I couldn't bear the silence, couldn't keep quiet.

“Sharon and Phil think I'm an idiot for doing this. They love seeing us so happy together and they think I'm sabotaging the whole thing by telling you this. Mike, if you tell me not to say anything I'll bury it and we'll go on as though nothing had been said.”

“It's a bit late for that now.”

He took my hands in his and sat staring at them for a while then let out a long desperate sigh.

“Ok, tell me.”

“Before I do I want you to know how much I care for you. I don't want to hurt you, but this is a part of who I am, at least of who I was. I can't help it any more or less than you can control your height. Also, even though what I was may have had some small influence on who I am, most of who I am is right here, right now, not a memory from the past.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“No, probably not yet, but I think you will.”

I gave him the lot, full broadside, and watched as it wrought its devastation. Maybe I was wrong to share this, I mean we don't tell children about the horrors of the world so they don't have nightmares. Maybe there was a time and a place for this conversation and I had botched both, but I'd started now and there was no way to unsay what had been said and no sense in stopping halfway through. The story caught up with the present moment and I let me words drift into silence.

The silence endured.

My eyes had dropped to his hands holding mine early on in the conversation and now I didn't dare raise them. Every second that passed cut a new slice out of my heart. It was in shreds before he found his voice.

“I'm not sure if it would have been worse if you' just broken up with me.”

I could hear the pain in his voice, the sense of betrayal and the knife cut deeper.

“Are Sharon and Phil in on this as well?”

“I told you Sharon and Phil didn't want me to say anything.”

“Why not? Because they knew how wrong this is and don't want me to know about it?”

The anger in his voice was like a slap in the face. I tried to keep my voice quiet and measured in return. No reason to turn this into a yelling match by raising my own voice.

“No. I think it's because they've come to acknowledge that there's always been a girl inside me and that the transformation that turned me into this allowed me to stop pretending who I was.”

“Oh come on, do you really expect me to believe all that crap? Magical transformations, demons and angels, it just isn't real. I don't know what you're playing at Liz, but you are either seriously disturbed or you have a sick sense of humour.”

“We did this once before, just over a week ago if you remember. You looked past my outburst and managed to see the real me once. I'm hoping you'll be able to do it again.”

“Except that this time you're not drunk. All that you just said you chose to say without any excuses or reasons as to why.”

“Mike I told you my reasons...”

“You told me your reasons for telling me a secret that you thought would hurt me, not for making up some fantastic mumbo jumbo crap about how you were once a guy then magically transformed.”

“Ask Phil and Sharon...”

“How will that help? What can they possibly tell me that will convince me that this whole load of bullshit is the truth? Do you have any hard evidence? No I didn't think so.

“Liz I'm not a strong guy, I have a sensitive ego. I dared to hope you might like me once and very nearly screwed things up when you proved not to be quite perfect. That was my mistake and I thought I was lucky to have a second chance. Now I'm not so sure.

“This week has been like a taste of heaven to me, right up until ten minutes ago. If you're going to chew me up and spit me out then please stop chewing and spit. I don't think I can stand another round with you.”

Oh God no. He let go of my suddenly numb fingers and walked back up the hill. A chill spread through me rooting me to the spot, fixing a horrified mask on my face. No God, no, please no.

The tears wouldn't come, they were frozen somewhere inside.