The table I’m sitting at with my friends is tacky from spilled beer and wine, the oil from nuts and chips, and the remnants of our earlier delivery of food; a pre card game meal. The light in the kitchen is bright, the bare bulb illuminating a basic but clean room filled with bargain-basement, not quite slumlord level white goods. My bare thighs and back are stuck to an old wooden chair that’s been repaired, painted and re-painted multiple times. The heat has been turned up given what we’re doing. And I really don’t know why I agreed to the rules.
I guess it’s because it’s Friday night and it’s Lads’ Night In. I’ve had a few few drinks, I wasn’t really thinking, and, stupidly, I trusted in my poker skills despite the stakes. I’ve never lost before.
It’s Steve’s — who’s still fully clothed in his work clothes — apartment; Steve a friend I’ve known since school. I’ve known Alan — who’s bare chested and missing one sock — since university. Sam (naked) and Big-G (naked and proud of it) are two of Steve’s co-workers and just as crazy as Steve. I’ve known Sam for the past few months and Big-G for a year or two.
All four of Steve, Alan, Sam and Big-G seem to get their newly-arrived-weekend kicks by coming up with bets, and dares, weird rules and drinking games rather than going out partying. I guess I’m glad of it, I’m not party wild. I’m good at games which is why their bets have never bothered me but I’ve never felt a real buzz playing games. For me the deal is hanging out without crowds or noise, having a few beers with no pressure, and nibbling on some quality snacks as I please.
Tonight the game is simple, if a little oddball given we’re four guys in a small kitchen after we’ve finished our work-weeks. Every thousand chips you go below starting stacks you lose an item of clothing. No re-buys, no buying back clothes. You go broke, mandatory nudity. Every item of clothing you lose goes into the bath tub and the dryer goes on no earlier than 3am.
Despite being Steve’s apartment, filled with his clothes, he sets the Lads’ Night In tone by strictly abiding to every rule so there’s never any cheating on Friday nights. The rules are the rules and no-one ever breaks them. Which is my problem. I’m down to my underpants.
What I should really have thought of when the game was proposed was my penis. It’s tiny. Now I’m on a losing streak. All my clothes have been dumped in the tub filled with ice-water. Lose one more hand, or even just let the blinds whittle me away and I’ll never be able to face these people again after they see the full me, but I hold out hope. I have a chance. I’ve never lost one of these games before.
I have Ace-King in my hand, with Ace-King-7 rainbow on the board, and I’m going all in. I’ll win just enough chips to survive the blinds going up and fold everything for the next few orbits. They’ll get bored before the game plays out and come up with something new. And with the pot for this hand giving me time I have another ace to play. This will work, I assure myself. I know it. I will not lose, not tonight. I really, really can’t lose. I just can’t...
I glance at my cards face down on the table resisting the urge to peek at them then return my stare to Steve. He knows I’ve never lost before. That means something. It must!
“All in,” I say.
“Confident man,” Alan says. He’s already out of the hand, of course he can talk.
I look towards Steve. He’s staring at his cards.
He puts them down and looks towards the ceiling, thinking.
“All in, or not? Don’t keep me waiting.” I want this over with.
“Don’t rush me, this is a big hand!” Steve says.
“Now, now, Tony,” Alan says, “Steve is desperately afraid of ruining his ever-so-colourful tie in the tub.”
Steve has been on the run of his life and easily has my all-in covered. His two co-workers are standing behind Alan, seemingly not caring about being buck naked but instead glued to the game, quiet and waiting.
Steve unties his tie and places it down on the table. “A freebie,” he says.
Big-G laughs and when he laughs his big laugh his whole body moves. His whole body!
It’s obvious why they call him Big-G despite only being an average five foot nine man. My dick would barely count next to his. Next to anyone’s, I suppose, but especially his.
Steve lifts his cards an inch and turns them to his nude co-workers. “Should I call?”
“We can’t help you,” Sam says. “But...” he trails off.
“Big-G says no way, José.”
Steve looks up at both of them.“This is why you’re both naked, and why Tony will be joining you,” he says. “Of course I’m going to call.” And he pushes his chips in the middle.
“Two-pair, Ace-King,” I say.
“Just a pair of fours for me,” Steve says.
Now’s my chance. “Look,” I say. “The game has been going on for ages, two people are already naked, I’m in my underwear. There must be some sport on the TV, or some reality TV, from somewhere, you can bet over. How about we end the game here?”
“I agree with that,” Alan says. His foot must be getting cold on the kitchen tile.
“Fine by us,” Big-G says. “Big-G and Sam are already rocking with their tackle out.” He laughs a hearty laugh, his cock bouncing up and down as his chest rises and falls, then he takes a swig of beer.
“Agreed, then,” I say, and go to stand.
“Game’s not over though,” Steve says.
“Fine, yeah, yeah. Of course. Flip the cards,” I say, realising I hadn’t expected this hand to actually play once he agreed. I’d already banked on it finishing up. But of course it should be run, I was blinded by keeping my underwear on. There’s still outs for Steve, and two pair isn’t exactly a locked in hand, although it was my only chance. He can still win and all he needs is a four.
Alan flips the first of two cards, a nine, no good for anyone. I’m still safe. I take a deep breath. Then another.
“Nervous, Tony?” Steve asks.
“Alan, deal, please,” I say, indicating at the cards. I just want to keep my underwear on.
He lifts one card up holding it in front of his face before showing it around to everyone but me. All their lips are pursed.
“Come on, it’s a two or something. Stop trying to psych me out.”
Alan shakes his head, smiles and throws the card on the table. It’s a four.
“And tonight!” Alan says in a big announcer voice. “For the first time in lads’ night history! The games man who doesn’t even really enjoy games! The never-lost-a-game King has finally been deposed!”
My heart pounds. They’ll all see me. The entire me. The full me. The little me. I’ll never be able to live this down. They’ll know and never forget. “No!”
“Oh yes!” Big-G shouts. “Three naked stags! The girls’ panties will be flying off!”
“What girls?” I ask, head snapping to G, feeling like I could throw up.
“Some of the women from Big G’s office,” Big-G says.
“What!?” I yelp.
“Why do you think Big-G suggested strip poker with no women around?” Big-G says.
“Big-G wants his big schlong to be on display when they get here,” Sam says.
“We can’t be naked when they arrive!” I cry.
“They said they’re fine with it. Well, fine with it as long as Big-G guaranteed he’d be naked,” Sam says. “And if it’s fine by them it’s more than fine by me.” He glances at Big-G’s crotch.
“The ladies know exactly why Big-G is called Big-G,” Big-G says, sure of himself.
“And soon they’ll be calling Tony by a brand new name, Little-T.” Steve has an evil smile on his face as he says that.
I glare at him. He probably has seen me naked. I couldn’t hide everything in school so Steve isn’t making a stab in the dark with that comment. “Double or quits?” Steve continues.
“What do you mean?”
“An out.”
“An out?”
“A chance to be fully clothed. No matter what.”
“What’s the twist?”
“No twist, fully clothed. It just depends on what clothes.”
“I’m not putting on some crusty gimp suit of yours,” I say. And he probably does have one. He’s actually successful with women.
“Oh, it won’t be my clothes. These are all brand new. In their packaging. It’s not even embarrassing, really. Loads of people wear clothes like this all the time.”
“What’s the fucking twist, Steve? Crotchless something or the other?”
“Coin flip. You win you get to put on some of my old sweats. Yes, my clothes. Tatty but fine. They’ve been thrown in my corner for months and probably stink. The women will be repulsed.
“Remember you still lost at poker. But come 3am the dryer goes on. A little after 5am you’re getting a taxi home, drunk, in your own clean, dry clothes and happy about how you got one up on all of us again. You the confirmed games master.”
“I lose?”
“You lose you wear what a normal, hot twenty-seven year old would be wearing on a night out.”
“Deal.”
“Just like that?” Steve asks. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” He thinks he’s playing some trick on me but I have no clue what he could mean.
“You lose you wear what a hot, twenty-seven year old woman would be wearing clubbing. A stone cold stunner. The kind who’d never go home with you. And you have to be wearing it when the girls from work arrive later.”
This is why Steve is crap at games and definitely why he got lucky against me in poker. He thinks he has it all figured out, in the mind games, like he can read people.
“Yeah, I got that. Obviously. You’re on.”
“What? Like, I mean, dude, this is the full get up. I told you I’ve been planning this. Big, high fuck-me boots, a tight, shimmering dress, bra, lacy thong, pantihose, I got nail polish, cheapo breast thingies, even a cheap wig. A handbag. No expense spared!” His grin is all teeth, like a shark.
“Dude, they’re just clothes. And did you really go into a shop and buy all this?”
“I ordered online,” Steve says in a gruff voice.
But there’s no need to push it. Let him have his fun and think he won. “Sure, fine,” I say.
“Why are you so cool with this and not being naked?” Steve asks, very pointedly.
“That’s different,” I say.
“I know,” he says and he stares me coldly in the eyes reminding me even if I’m not bothered about the clothes this is about him knowing about my tiny peepee. And yes, it really does count as a peepee, barely even a dick let alone a cock.
“OK. Alan flips the coin?” I’m really not bothered about this, in fact I started feeling much better about myself as soon as he brought any clothes up, even a crusty gimp suit. I guess it’s relief from knowing I won’t have to get my dick out and be shamed. For everyone to see the real me.
Alan takes a coin from Steve’s coin jar and holds it out in front of me, flipping it over and again. “Heads you’re a woman dressed to give head. Tails you’re a hot, young, hotty piece of tail every man is chasing.”
“Agreed,” I say.
Alan launches it into the air and the coin comes down... As it does I realise what I agreed to. Everyone, including the naked Sam and Big-G bursts out laughing.
“The oldest play in the book!” Steve roars. “Amazing, Alan! Genius!”
I just have to roll my eyes.
Strangely though, as the coin was thrown, before I realised what I’d agreed to I was hoping the smelly Steve’s old sweatpants side didn’t come up. I push that thought aside though and finally let their mocking get to me.
“Fine, OK, OK! You got me!” I say, relief draining me of stress.
“Not so Mister, or should I say Miss Unfazed, now, are we?”
“Yeah, that was good. You got me.”
“Glass of white wine for the lady?” Alan asks.
“But you drink white wine, too,” I say.
“I’m bi,” Alan says.
“I knew it!” Sam says spinning Alan around. “Did I say that out loud? I meant to say How you doin’?” He looks confidently at Alan
“Oh!” Alan smiles, eyes wide. “I’m doing OK. Could be better. Could be much better!” He winks at Sam, although I’m not sure if he’s just messing about or thinking of something more.
But Sam’s out in the air cock bobs and I don’t know why my eye is drawn to it. It must be the weirdness of seeing my friend openly flirting with a guy whose dick is visibly twitching while we’re all in another friend’s kitchen.
“This is getting weird,” I say.
“About to get weirder, for you at least. Go on, into my bedroom. The delivery box is beneath the bed.”
“You want me to go beneath your bed?” I ask.
“I have no secrets,” Steve says.
I shake my head. My fate awaits and there’s no putting it off. But the Miss Unfazed thing is mostly true, I really don’t care.
“Don’t forget your glass of wine, love!” Alan says, holding a glass out to me.
I take it, and then grab the entire bottle. “I’ll be needing this,” I say. But really I’m beginning to finally feel safe again now I know I won’t be naked.
Steve’s apartment is a modern place but cheap. Maybe an old design building, although recently built, plans copied and pasted then adapted from another building and done to a budget. It’s actually quite a find given it has a separate living room and proper kitchen; it’s not at all a modern style, open plan space, or like my place with a tiny area for cooking.
Steve’s bedroom is roomy enough, with built-in wardrobes and a small en-suite, and the apartment has a general bathroom off a hallway. Everything is kind of run down from cheap materials — especially the kitchen where the fittings have been skimped on — but Steve has done the whole place up pretty respectably with some quick interior painting and decorating. This is especially true in the living room which can go from sports viewing central with his big wall-mounted TV, and speakers on stands, to a chill out room with a comfy couch, bean bags, low, warm light from floor lamps and twinkling walls studded with fairy lights. Steve says it helps with his score rate.
I calmly walk the short hallway from the kitchen — past the bathroom door — to Steve’s room to meet my fate. I’m unbothered by both the clothes I’ll have to wear as well as by having to go into his room and delve beneath his bed.
I’ve been in his room plenty of times before. He’ll often buzz people in, leave the front door unlocked and go back to lounging while everyone comes to chat to him like he’s a reclining lord. This event is so common he even has a couch set up in there for his guests. He’s just too at ease with himself.
I don’t know why it’s like this but as I look around Steve’s bedroom it’s completely different. Usually when he’d be lying in bed the full lights would be on and the radio would be tuned into some sports news station. I’d be averting my eyes as he scratches his balls and farts but now the lighting is low and there’s even a few scented candles burning. It feels cosy and relaxed.
After digging it out and placing it on the bed my eyes rest on the big box that holds my losing bet. It’s time to get it over with but it really isn’t bothering me. It’s just drag. Just drag and not my unimpressive piece on show for the world.
It’s a fair deal to look ridiculous instead of being thought of as less of a man, or not a man at all, with my size. This works for me and Steve will be placated.
I pull out the first item and it’s the dress. Tight and shimmering was right, but there’s more that Steve didn’t say. It’s a thick material, an expensive material, the kind you’d see hugging a body moving through a movie scene. It’s not the disco dress I imagined, more a lush beaded dress, with glimmering black, what I assume are plastic stones in a regular pattern. The femme fatale wears it where you can’t take your eyes off her. A superstar from the era when films were films, and women were women. You’d see every flex and movement of her body catching on the light and every man’s eyes would be hanging out of his head, them craning their necks, following her around the room. A dress worn by the kind of ladies who have legs that go all the way inviting the men to draw their gaze roaming up her until they encounter her dazzling smile and entrancing eyes.
Next out is a black bra, lace and satin, and a black thong, also lace and satin. At least he matched them. Deeper inside the box is a package of black pantihose, which I unwrap and for some reason rub across my arm. These might actually feel good. They’re kind of thick enough that I guess Steve was thinking of covering my leg hair, not that I’ve much of it, or facial hair, or any body hair, really, apart from my pits and groin.
There’s two other boxes at the bottom of the package. That must be the shoes and the breast forms, or the breast thingies as Steve called them. There’s also a little black purse with a gold chain strap. I lift it up and hang it over my shoulder. Why did Steve think I need a purse? Looking into it it is, of course, his idea of a joke. Inside is red nail polish, some condoms and, without fail, some tampons. What a hilarious man!
I fold the top of the purse closed and look into Steve’s full length mirror. I look all wrong with my clothes and a handbag so quickly strip off and hang the bag back on my shoulder.
Looking at my reflection my dick is basically inside me although my balls are dangling, but if I turn a little I can just see my ass and the purse hanging over my shoulder, the leather of the bag I press against my butt cheek. I stand on my tippy-toes to give my behind some shape while I clutch the leather bag, arm bent at my elbow. I look ugly as fuck. Maybe the thong will build up some illusion.
I take the black lace and satin thong, with tiny fake stones on the front panel off the bed and snap off the tags. I pull it up my legs with my butt to the mirror to not see my shameful dick and balls while I still have the purse hanging over my shoulder. With the lace front sitting in place I feel a stirring in the tip of my miniscule knob as the pattern rubs over it. It begins to show a little. I am definitely getting turned on.
I take a deep slug of the white wine and throw the bag onto the bed. This is not going as I was expecting. What the fuck is going on with me? Am I really this drunk?
I take another gulp of the wine then fill up the glass.
As I’m thinking on what to turn to next I hear the front door open and at least two female voices being greeted. I wonder what they’re wearing? I mean, if they’re in jeans and a top I’m going to look a total fool in a clubbing dress. A real sore thumb, is what I’m thinking, I tell myself, as I look in the mirror again and see a flat chest.
I quickly shrug on the bra, reach back to clip it closed and push in the breast forms I’ve taken from their box. I look acceptable in the mirror. Like me, obviously, but I guess I could get my hair done.
The pantihose are next. I roll one leg up in my hand as I sit on the bed. I point my toes and slide one leg over my foot, pulling it up a little way. The other leg is next.
I don’t have time to paint my nails, not that anyone would see them, and I can’t actually do my fingernails as there’s nothing to remove the polish, but I imagine, y’know, it’d be right to have toes painted, if my pantihose were to come off; to see my feet with painted toes. And I was right, these hose do feel good. Like they give my legs shape, or make them feel like they’re toned or something; my legs look feminine in these hose.
They definitely hide any blemishes and they even flatten my balls, I notice, as I pull and twist them further up my waist to reduce my bulges as much as I can.
The wig is in the box that held the breast forms. It’s a black bob, very formal, very angular, almost too black. Not really natural and I’m disappointed with that. I don’t want to look, like, so fully severe; like a character.
I turn back to my glass of wine and take a sip feeling the cool liquid placate my thirst. A heat spreads across my chest from the alcohol content and I swear I can even feel my nipples inflame. I resist the urge to reach up and rub at them.
I figure the dress will come last, or at least the wig. The dress and wig at the same time to complete the look. I won’t look in the mirror before I have them both on so it’s boots time now. Except the box is much too small for fuck-me boots.
I open it up and inside are a pair of delicate black heels, instep with a cutaway that will expose the arch of my pantihosed feet.
I could imagine someone rubbing me there, just a finger gently stroking, holding my foot beneath a dinner table while I play with their hard, responsive, mmmm... My dick is growing to its impressive three inches and I look back at the heels to take my mind off someone stroking my feet, nibbling my painted toes... Me looking at their... Oh boy!
Three inches of a stiletto on them. Real leather, my god how much did he pay?! These are exquisite and what the fuck am I thinking? My friends are right outside! There’s actual women outside! Real women, not a wannabe woman like me. What am I thinking?
I lock Steve’s door.
I shake my head but as I do so I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. With the heels on my butt is perking right out. I pull the thong up higher so it’s exposed above the pantihose and digging into me a little. My balls and dick are clamped down even more which just makes my cock strain all the stronger; the little, tiny, lump of useless flesh. A shitty version of what it should be but I’ve never felt it so, well... I squeeze my legs together and groan. My crotch is all wrong, I’ve always known that. I just have to get through this.
I quickly grab the wig from the bed and put it on, before taking the dress and holding it in front of me. It’s lined with something on the inside, smooth to the touch like silk, but obviously fake silk. It’s still gorgeous to touch. There’s no way Steve paid for such an expensive dress. Why did he pay for such an expensive dress? Why can I picture him looking at me? Men looking at me? Do I...
The beads on the black material catch on the candle light as I’m rubbing between my thighs, imagining a hand there, exploring. Feeling me against the heat of my crotch and gently probing. Me returning his touching...
I pull down the zip and step into the dress. Lifting it up against my body it glides against my legs, against my stomach, my chest. I’ve never felt so delicate, so ready. So wanting...
I rub the soft material against my torse before I slip my arms through the arm-holes. I’m about to call out for Steve to help me with the zip before I catch myself.
He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even want a boyfriend! I’m not gay, I just have a small dick I don’t want to use with women because they’ll laugh. And that’s how Steve has me looking like this, I think, as I stare at myself in the mirror, fully dressed, for the first time.
I do a double take as I catch my reflection. It’s me, definitely, but if I squint my eyes a little, if I blur my vision — ignoring my face — there’s a gorgeous looking woman there in the hottest of hot date dresses. No. Not hot date, classy date. Drinking Martinis at a fancy cocktail bar with a piano player, someone holding my hand. Whispering in my ear while I act all coquettishly. Does Steve want to see me like this? He had this planned, he said so. Maybe he wants me to take...
And as I think that my cock stirs again and I know what I have to do. I really have to. I have no choice! I’m small but they’d all see a large lump straining against the clinging fabric of my body-hugging date-night dress.
I look around for tissues all the while thinking of Steve needing to see me like this. Wanting me to look... Of what he wants to...
My dick tears at my panties and with every movement and twitch it’s rubbing on the satin and lace I’m wearing, making me glow deep inside. No, not glow, it’s fire. Want... I feel that want, again.
I can’t be seen with a bulge in my dress! But there’s no tissues to be found. What kind of man doesn’t have tissues in his bedroom? I’ll have to have words. What if he needs to blow his nose? It’s disgusting! He’s disgusting! How would I clean up?
I remember the condoms in my purse. I take one out and tear at the corner of it with my teeth, like I’ve seen in films as I massage myself through my dress.
I lift the hem up, pull down the pantihose and front of the thong, just a little. I slide the condom just the few inches down my tiny, erect penis. It goes on easily.
I grab my dick and start stroking, but it feels wrong. I lie back on Steve’s bed and lift my legs high in the air, legs spread wide seeing my heels reaching for the ceiling like some horny little bitch ready to be entered.
I imagine someone coming at me, between my legs. I wrap them around him and pull him close. He’s right against me. His genitals are right against me and I feel his flesh against mine. I want to feel his flesh.
I feel his body on top of me, us both ready. Him ready to go. And me. Ready. Entering me. I close my eyes feeling it. Feeling him in me. Again, and then again. I dream of it. Want it.
My head arches backwards and my body upwards and just as I do, fully taking him, feeling it, wanting it more, and deeper, someone in me. As I imagine someone in me I explode.
And I’m wrong. All wrong!
Who was the man who came in me? What am I doing?
What was I doing with a man?
Then I see my legs and heels still in the air and it somehow secures me.
It’s just a bet, and it was just a fantasy and I don’t get anywhere near women so I was probably imagining me doing it to a woman. I was dressed like a woman so I just imagined me fucking some woman. I was the man fucking a woman. That’s all. Next time I’ll be finer with the tip of my dick though. I’ll be me fucking a woman like me; the woman I imagine me to be. I’ll play with it. I’ll give myself time. I want time.
I pull the condom off my now nearly disappeared cock, twist it up, and put it in the purse with no other obvious place to stash it.
I look in the mirror and it’s very much male me there again. Very male me. I want to strip off the dress and even put on my ice-cold, wet clothes from the tub but that wouldn’t be the bet. It’s just a simple bet. Nothing else. I can do this. Just another weird night at fucking Steve’s with his weird stakes and games. People will just have to see me like this. They’ll just have to see me as if I’m a woman, tonight, just because I lost a stupid game.
I’m a woman tonight as a game. Just go with it. Just be a woman for a game.
I shrug the dress that fell around me up my back and reach to secure it, getting at the zipper. I drag it up, the zip fastens and closes, then I pull the entire garment down, secure again. Steve didn’t even get me some ass revealing dress, this is really nice. Do I feel nice? Something else? It just feels, I dunno...
I make sure everything is snug and my silhouette is OK, patting myself down to make sure of no unsightly lumps and bumps, or snags — my most obvious lump now dealt with — as I tune into the voices coming from the living room via the hallway. It seems like there’s a right party going on, and it’s ready to greet me, Tony, or now Toni with an i, I guess.
I guess? I’m still Tony. This is just a night at Steve’s. And I’m definitely Tony. I might as well be Hot Toni. It’s just one night, but a weird night. A weird night of booze and bets, and I’m all messed up from nearly being naked, and worry, then relief, then... I don’t know. But I figure the way to win this, psychologically, is to just be confident. Act like nothing is any different. Not that I’m a normal woman, I’m not a woman, but just that I’m a normal Toni. Just normal.
That’s always the way with the bets and games Steve has when we get together, just the lads. And it’s why I always win. He thinks I’m unflappable but I just don’t let things bother me. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ve already avoided the worst. I’m not having to show my tiny cock to all the guys here, or the women he knows from work he suddenly decided to invite to Lads’ Night In.
Anyway, come 5am or so I get my clothes back and no-one will have the image of my barely-there penis burned into their minds for them to forever insult.
I smooth down my dress one last time and go to reach for the door handle. Then I remember the white wine and grab the glass and bottle and stand behind the door again. This is it. I unlock the door.
I step into the hallway feeling the cool air against my legs and bare arms, a little wobbly with my first real steps in heels, and open the door into the living room.
I walk in, trying to hold my head high but stop as I see Big-G sitting stark naked in an armchair, legs spread wide, massive dong hanging loose. Steve, now wearing his work tie on his head like a prize is on a kitchen chair just inside the door next to a gorgeous blonde woman on another kitchen chair. She’s in a retro sweater dress with black, heeled boots and taupe pantihose, legs crossed. Sam, also with his dick out from strip poker is flirting with my close friend Alan. And a black haired women dressed like the most fashionista punk — fashionista purely because of her flawless makeup — is reclining in one of Steve’s giant beanbags. They all turn to me.
I freeze.
“Fucking hell, Steve, you ordered that dress!?” the black haired woman says.
“Wait, what?” Steve says.
“It’s fucking gorgeous!” she continues. “Give me a twirl, hun!”
Without thinking I put one foot behind the other, and give a little spin, ending up facing back to this raven lying on a beanbag with giant glass of red wine.
“Jesus Christ, Steve, you having fucking taste. I’d murder to find a dress like that. And somewhere to wear it to!”
“That’s not the dress I ordered,” Steve says.
“When you’re done with it I’ll gladly take it off your hands,” the blonde woman next to Steve says.
The black haired woman levers herself out of the beanbag and approaches me. As she gets closer I’m sure I’m like a fawn stuck in the beams of a car but she holds both her hands up and I instinctively reach up my own to place mine in her grip. She gives me the up and down and I see she’s wearing the standard punk, red tartan skirt, torn fishnets, big stompy boots with a massive chunky heel, and a band t-shirt for a band I’ve never heard of.
“Fucking hell it’s gorgeous... So don’t listen to a word that bitch Sally says! There’s no way a woman would give up a dress like that. Look at her!” she says as she squeezes to the side of me, releasing one hand and moving me forward to the middle of the floor, past Steve and Sally, right in front of the couch so everyone can get a good look. I bend one knee just a fraction and bring my legs together as they all look at me.
“My God! Jess! Did you see the heels?” Sally, the blonde woman says.
“Fuck off!” Jess, the black haired woman holding my hand says. Her eyes seem wider than what I imagine mine to be. “What size shoe are you?”
“I’m size...” I stammer out, stuck on my own words.
“Those fucking scammers!” Steve shouts.
“Who?” Sally asks.
“I ordered fuck-me boots and a little black thing that barely covers his ass from that store!”
“Her!” Jess and Sally both say, without pause.
“Sorry, her. Sorry, Toni,” Steve says. “Yeah, a slutty, horny outfit. And they ripped me off sending me this.”
“Men!” Sally says.
“Fucking men!” Jess says.
I want to say Men! too but the word catches in my throat and comes out in a whisper. I’m not confident enough, or just a little taken aback, I guess, to be able to pull off a riff like that.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jess says. “I’m Jess, and this is Sally, we work with Steve, and Sam and Big-G!”
Big-G barks, “Big-G!” back at them, obviously getting drunker.
“You know it, babe!” Jess says, giving a thumbs up to Big-G. “You must be Toni,” she continues, turning back to me.
“Yeah, hi,” I say, desperate to take a drink but afraid I’ll dribble the wine down me, so instead I wave at them both.
“Well, with the store fucking up the order instead of Mr. Modernity here making you look like a whore you’re the classiest looking broad in the building tonight,” Sally says.
“If I didn’t already like her vibes I’d be giving her the stink eye,” Jess says. “Come on, sit down with me. I want to hear everything!”
“Hear what?” I say.
“Your story... Where you went to school, where you work, any brothers or sisters, past boyfriends, past boyfriends we have to murder, past girlfriends, hopes, dreams, you know? Your story!” Jess says as she supports me wobbling over to the beanbag.
She takes the bottle and glass off me and I slump down, then she lowers herself, cat-like, next to me. This is the closest I’ve been to a woman, almost lying back, in years. “But first I want to hear what store sent a what? $300 dress and $400 shoes instead of what I’m sure was Steve’s fifty buck order? Because you better believe I’m taking a chance with those fuck-ups!”
“I knew the shoes were too nice,” I say.
“Yeah, you lucked out there. And do not, I repeat, do not let Sally convince you you don’t want them, or the dress, and to give them to her. Don’t be a silly bitch giving away your clothes. That way lies ruin, tears and regret!”
“I couldn’t pull the look off as well as her,” Sally says as she shrugs. I feel a little stirring in my crotch again when she says Her.
“We should ditch this place,” Jess says.
“With Toni?” Sally asks. “No way. Normally it’s you getting all the attention and me getting whoever’s next in line, with Toni I’d be third in line.”
“Yeah, but I’d be second, and think how good it’d make you feel to see me beaten to the dark, strong, handsome men.”
“Rich men too,” Sally says. “But that’s a fair point. Let’s go!”
“No!” I say, almost thrashing in the beanbag. “We can’t!” I see Steve is sitting in his chair looking over at me and Jess with a big smile on his face. Alan’s legs are resting on Sam’s lap as they whisper and dart glances at me with Sam massaging the sockless foot Alan has from the strip poker.
“She’s right,” Sally says. “We don’t even know if she likes boys or girls. We wouldn’t know what club to hit.”
“Toni!” Jess says declaratively. “Do you like boys or girls?”
“Boys,” I say, instinctively. Then I catch myself. “No! I mean girls.”
“Both? Either? Or? In between? I like everything.” she says as she strokes the pantihose encased inner of my thigh a little way inside the cover of my hem.
I take a deep breath through my nose trying not to close my eyes, trying to stop my shaking as she caresses a part of my body no-one has ever, ever paid attention to before. “I mean, I like girls, not boys. I just said boys because I thought I should, you know, with how I’m dressed,” I say.
“Mmmhmmm,” Jess says and exchanges a look between her and Sally before lowering herself to my ear and whispering to me, “Before the night is over someone here is going to make you cum.”
As I feel her hot breath on my ear, with her hand stroking ever further up my inner thigh, almost to my crotch, I’m emboldened. I raise myself up on my elbows and lean into her before whispering in as sultry a voice I can manage, “Who says I haven’t already?”
She immediately squeezes my thigh she has a grip on, hard, making me yelp, yes, like a girl, and speaks up. “Oh my god, she’s a firebrand! I’m sorry Steve, she doesn’t need us. Just set her free and there won’t be a cock left un-sucked and a pussy left un-eaten for ten miles square.”
“What do you mean I need them, Steve?” Was this his plan all along? Get me dressed up like an idiot and parade me in front of two women who’d toy with me and gossip about me for months?
“Toni, look—” Steve begins.
“No, out with it, Steve, was this a plan to embarrass me?” I say, feeling blood rush to my face and like I’m about to turn into the sternest bitch on the planet.
“No. It’s not like that. It’s just you haven’t been with a woman in years, if ever. Sally and Jess are lovely...”
“We are really lovely,” Sally says, nodding.
“And I thought if we had some girls at Lads’ Night it might bring you out of your shell more.”
“So you put me in a dress!”
“No! No-one put you in a dress!” Steve says. “Well, I mean, it was the bet. But I’ve been planning that for months. It just so happened I went on a run with one of our stakes tonight. It was pure coincidence. I never thought you’d be... Check the order date on the shipping.”
“I wouldn’t want to meet Tony with a y,” Sally says.
“No. I’m sure he’s a lovely boy, but Toni with an i? All woman!” Jess says.
“Just play along, Toni,” Big-G says, one eye half shut from the booze. “Girl Toni has two of the hottest women in the entire office ready to jump in bed with her. Have some fun...”
“Sorry, Big-G. You’ve got the Big-D but Toni, well, she’s special.”
“I’m not—” I begin to say, getting annoyed at everyone treating me like a project, someone in need.
“You’re not what, hun?” Sally says.
“I’m not some project,” I say, feeling tears come to my eyes, emptied.
Jess climbs on top of me and scoots over to my other side, swapping legs beneath my crotch. I can tell what she’s doing, she’s trying to hide my crying from the boys, and that makes the tears come just that bit faster.
“Toni isn’t a fucking project,” I hear from Sally, still sitting next to Steve, then some rustling, then a chorus of, “No, no! No, she isn’t.” And finally from Sam, who may also be feeling the drink along with Big-G — with his slurred words — ssaying, “Fuck, if I wasn’t gay I’d nearly turn straight for her.” Followed by a series of stifled laughs, which makes me laugh, and then more tears come out.
“Fucking hell, hun, it’s a good thing you’re not wearing mascara or it’d be ruined,” Jess says. She reaches for her purse, takes some tissue out and dabs at my eyes, cleaning me up. I just mouth the words Thank you at her before she palms the tissue away somewhere and clambers back over to the far side of me.
“Steve,” Jess says. “Now I know it was luck that got Toni her shoes and dress, but my god what would possess you not to buy the debutante some makeup for her coming out?”
“The choices were confusing,” Steve says.
“Yeah, that makes total sense. For you,” Sally says.
Jess climbs on top of me again, again putting her leg between mine, but this time pushing her knee and thigh all the way up against my groin. It feels so good having someone’s weight on top of me, and where our legs touch is intense.
“Toni, you’re no-one’s project. You are the finished article. But I, personally, cannot stand that Steve — who obviously fancies you to buy you such an expensive outfit for your coming out party — would let you get dressed without providing even the most basic of makeup. If you don’t mind I would like to show you what you could look like with a bit of slap,” Jess says and my small, little dick grows harder with her staring deep into my eyes; like she’s looking at a me that couldn’t be seen. And she must certainly notice my excitement as well however small my physical manifestation of it is. “And I’m good with a trowel,” she goes on.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “Why not?”
“No! No why not. I want you to see how beautiful you could be.”
“I’m already beautiful,” I say, meaning it as a joke but Jess doesn’t take it that way.
“Damn right!” she says. “And don’t let a single cunt tell you you’re not.” She caresses my face after she says that, and somehow my dick gets even harder. “So may I please do your makeup?” She tilts my face up as though getting a proper look at me, so who am I to resist?
“Please do,” I say.
“I’ll be gentle,” she says, then she kisses her index and middle fingertips and brings them down on my lips, which part ever so slightly with me wanting to suck on them deep into my mouth.
“Close your eyes,” she says. Which I do, and soon there’s a cool liquid on my skin, gently being spread across my face, then a dabbing. “We’ll have to find the right foundation for you but for now Sally’s will do.”
I just nod as I’m treated to the most gentle of touches across my chin, upper lip, cheeks, and forehead. Touches I can barely notice as Jess squirms, more or less sitting to the side on my tummy just beneath my boobs, wrapped around me, and every time her knee moves between my leg I have to resist the urge to grind on her thigh.
Still, my resistance isn’t going too well when she sits back on her legs, right on top of my dick. I breathe deeply through my nose, patiently, and don’t think of her, or anyone else with even an iota of a body, or what I’m wearing, or naked me... Basically I’m trying to mentally catalogue all the stained mugs in the kitchen cupboard at work I’m sometimes made wash. All while Jess unintentionally tortures my cock.
“Open your eyes,” Jess says.
I do.
“Now, you’re not supposed to share eye makeup with anyone but I think it’s worth the risk on such a special occasion. Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’ll be difficult, but it’ll be a lot easier when you’re applying your own and you’re in control.”
I nod.
“That’s done,” Jess says, after a few painful minutes of me trying not to blink right on top of the mascara wand. “And now the most important part, your lipstick. And it just so happens my pale skin and your drop dead gorgeous, black, dinner-date dress...” As she says dress my dick yearns to get free, straining against lace, and I’m certain Jess notices because she wriggles her butt around in my lap. “...meet with a perfect, bold, red lipstick. Pucker!” Which I do like I’ve seen in every film and TV show, and from the few girls who’ve been around me. And as she coats my lips, the thought of me with a striking red mouth stands stark in my mind. All the ways I could possibly look run through my head, and in every one of them I’m a woman. I feel it as true.
“There!” Jess leans in and gives me a quick kiss on my newly painted lips before kneeling high above me, looking down on her work.
“Honestly, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the privilege to kiss!” And as she says that I can’t keep it from happening any more. My tiny dick starts to twitch with the closest I’ve been to a woman, or more a woman has been to me, and doing my makeup, and making me wriggle in my panties, and me cumming right into the lace, through my pantihose, and right onto Jess’s knee. The second time I’ve cum tonight.
“I bet you’ll love yourself,” she says, not missing a beat. “C’mon Sally, bathroom time!”
“I can’t wait!” Sally says, and they both stand.
“You too, dummy!” Jess says, reaching a hand out to me.
“What, but why?” I say, still wobbly from my orgasm, afraid to trust my legs. And it’s not all that, though. I knew about the whole girls going to the bathroom together thing but I thought that was a piece of Hollywood storytelling and didn’t happen in real life once people left high school. Not that I really knew many women after high school or university.
“Come on!” Sally says, loud enough to attract everyone in the room’s attention that had obviously wandered while Jess applied my makeup.
I take Jess’s hand and she easily pulls me up and out of the beanbag chair, on my way with two other women to the bathroom in Steve’s apartment. To... I don’t know.
Walking into the bathroom I’ve finally recovered enough, especially with the cool hallway air on me for a few seconds, to say more than a few words. “I thought this only happened in Hollywood.”
“What? The dour, bookish, shy girl puts on a bit of makeup and is revealed to be an absolute babe?” Sally asks.
“Sorry, hun, that’s not your story. You were already exceedingly pretty before the makeup,” Jess says.
“No, I mean girls going to the bathroom together.”
“Well, I really need to pee and so do you,” Jess says, looking at me. “But you must have been distracted by something in that living room because what do bathrooms always have?”
“Look in the mirror you idiot!” Sally says.
I turn and face me, or more not me, right in the mirror and immediately look away. “No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Oh, baby girl, yes!”
I turn around and lean my butt against the sink unable to process what I’ve just seen.
“Aren’t you glad you came to Lads’ Night In?” Sally asks. But I have no response.
“Yeah, now. One hundred percent,” Jess says, the question obviously intended for her, not me. “But I can’t wait to get Toni on Girls’ Night Out.”
“No,” I say again, willing myself to turn around and look at the woman in the mirror.
“Sorry, them’s the breaks,” Jess says.
“I’m...”
“Yeah, what we’ve been saying all night, you’re all woman,” Sally says.
“Do you have a thong pantiliner?” Jess asks.
“I might, why? I thought you didn’t wear thongs.”
“It’s for Toni.”
“Toni?” Sally asks.
“Let’s just say Toni is absolutely dripping wet right now.”
I’m hearing these words but it’s not until I feel the punch on my bare arm they register with me. “I can’t believe Jess has made every woman in this apartment orgasm!” Sally says, rubbing her fist.
“Wait, what? Why did you tell—” I say. Then it dawns on me the sound I’m hearing and the sight I’m seeing is Jess sitting on the toilet peeing.
I avert me eyes and look towards the ceiling.
“You’ve just cum on my knee, you can watch me pee,” Jess says.
“You haven’t cum on me, but I don’t care, we all have the same bits,” Sally says.
“No! We don’t!” I say. I don’t know if I’ve been drugged, if this is a dream, or if I’m in at thong-split induced stupor.
“Semantics. Bits are bits. Except for Jess’s. They’re magic,” Sally says before sucking on her teeth. “I still can’t believe she’s made all three of us cum!” She looks at me. “I presume you haven’t made her cum?” I shake my head. “And I haven’t either, now why is that?”
“Because you’re both straight ladies and it’s the duty of the bisexual lady to stop her friends from getting too horned up lest they fuck unworthy cock while simultaneously letting them know women are the real masters.”
I have no idea what’s happening at this point, until Sally pushes me down, sitting me on the toilet seat, with Jess placing her ripped fishnets in fashionable spots with a care I didn’t think possible, her ass right by my eyeline.
“C’mon, clear out those pipes. We don’t want UTIs,” Sally says.
“I can’t,” I say.
Sally tuts and gives me a stern look. “We’ve all seen a penis before,” she says.
“More of a clit, really,” Jess says.
“What!?” I squeak, and it feels like my eyes are leaping out of my head. My blood pressure certainly soars, with my face getting red, and my dick, yes, my dick, somehow getting a little bit hard again.
“Oh, please. Do you really think I care? I wouldn’t have been up in your coochie if I cared how big your nubbin is. And I’m certainly not going to talk to the idiots out there about my friend’s crotch,” she says, waving in the living room’s direction.
“It makes things easier, really,” Sally says. “Now come on, chop chop. I need to pee too.”
It’s at this point I remember I’m wearing a dress, and satin and lace, and pantihose. I pull the appropriate ones up and the appropriate ones down to pee while my two female friends, I guess they’re friends, discuss my clitoris, and how having a small dick makes something easier.
I feel a wave of relief as soon I let my bladder flow, not realising I’d been holding it in, maybe afraid to go to the bathroom? Then, as I’m sitting there in my dress and heels and bra, with my friends standing around as I clean up the stains in my panties, what a sentence, without even thinking about it I let out, “My feet are killing me.”
“Did you have a stopwatch on that one?” Jess asks. And I realise they’re both now staring at me dabbing at cum on the lining of my dress.
“No, unlike the so-called men I don’t play those games.”
“You’ll be playing strip poker before the night is out.”
“Probably,” Sally says. “And I’ll win.” There’s a smug look on her face.
“That’s what I thought, too,” I say.
“My god, babe, you won the fucking lottery tonight. You’ve met two amazing women, who you are quickly joining with as the most dangerous trio of hoes within ten blocks. Yes! We’re a trio now...” Jess says. “You’ve orgasmed...” I’m immediately grateful Jess didn’t mention the twice part around Sally or I’d never get out of this toilet. “...you’ve got all the men drooling over you...”
“What?”
“Except for gay Sam but I don’t think he was joking about maybe giving women a go with you.”
“You could do worse,” Sally says.
“And you’re about to get amazing advice about massaging your feet when you’re sitting on the toilet.”
“What?” I say again.
“Make sure to never actually put your bare feet on the ground, no matter how much you want to,” Jess says.
This is disappointing foot advice.
“It’s ew...” Sally says.
“Just classier, isn’t?”
“This is really disappointing, you’re not helping my feet at all,” I say.
Jess tuts at me.
“Never give into feet on the floor unless you’re tip-toeing around your beau’s apartment in his day old work shirt, with his stink still on it, while he’s getting ready to depart, leaving you with his credit card and fully charged laptop.”
“Stop talking shit, Sally. You’ve never tip-toed around anywhere and you’re not the demure, boyfriend’s shirt, cutesy lady you think you are. Credit card my dick!”
I take my foot out of my shoe and give it a rub.
“Pedicure next weekend?” Sally asks.
“Yeah, definitely,” Jess says.
“Toni?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Done,” Sally says and hands me a pad. “You know how to use—” But it’s obvious. I stick the sticky part of the pad around the edge of my underwear and I’m busy re-arranging myself once I’ve pulled everything into place.
As I’m pushing and prodding myself I think this is all just play right? Part of the games of the Friday night? They don’t really expect me to go for a pedicure next weekend even if I did think my toes needed polish before I put them in my hose. We’re just treating this like a playful evening, surely?
I see Sally standing over me looking impatient so I stand and move to the side and make sure my dress is down, before checking my boobs are correctly set, while Sally sits, and now she’s peeing. I’m seemingly well used to it all at this point. “But why do I need a pad if I’ve cleaned up from, well, my last time?” I ask.
“Oh, that doesn’t count,” Jess says as I’m washing my hands. “I was just going with the flow, you know? That was just opportunism. I want to make you cum like a basic bitch, now. Like an itty bitty, little, baby lesbian I take good care of. And now I’m not guaranteeing it will be me, and you might not even be a lesbian, I don’t think you are, really, and you might not even have your panties on, but you will cum again tonight.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’ll be the most amazing cum of your life.”
We move out of the way to let Sally wash and dry her hands and I fidget seeing as we’re all in a cramped, close space by the sink with no-one sitting down.
“Let me try something,” Sally says. She wraps her arms around my neck and leans in to me. Sally’s straight, but this isn’t really lesbian anything. I’m not actually a woman. Just go with it, I guess. So I close my eyes with her tongue forcing it’s way into my mouth, pushing firmly against my own tongue. I let her take control, letting her mouth play with mine, tongue stroking the tips of my parted lips and as soon as it’s begun it’s over.
“Anything?” Jess asks.
“Nope,” Sally says.
“How about you, Toni?”
“What? No!”
“Terminally straight,” Jess tuts.
I look into the mirror to check my lipstick and I hear a laugh but I don’t know why.
“We can’t help how God made us,” Sally says.
We, all three, walk back into the living room and Jess asks, “How’s the sausage fest?”
“Have a nice gossip about us?” Steve asks.
“I let Toni in on a secret about Big-G,” Sally says.
“Ooh, do tell!” Steve says.
“He’s got a pretty nicely sized penis,” Sally says.
“It’s very big, Big-G,” I say.
Big-G barks another, “Big-G!” Then he opens one eye, “And Big-G would like to thank Toni for her compliment on his Big-D, and say sometime, maybe? Young girl...”
I laugh as Big-G closes his eye again but he somehow winks at me despite only one eye having been open.
“See, that’s what we talk about when we go in there. Your penises,” Jess says.
I consider how it was my penis that was on show in the toilet before smiling thinking about Big-G’s wink.
“And me and Toni kissed,” Sally says.
“With tongue,” I say, quickly retuning.
“What?” Steve protests, almost leaning out of his seat to the point of falling. It’s obvious Steve fancies Sally but for some reason I squeeze my legs together thinking of him falling on top of me.
“I had to check if I like girls but it’s a big fat no from me,” Sally says.
“Yeah, sorry, you didn’t do anything for me either,” I say to Sally.
“Really?” Steve asks, with a smirk.
“Toni likes me and I like her!” Jess says, rather simply.
“But you’re a lesbian,” Steve says.
“Bisexual,” Jess says, “But hey! Let Toni like who she likes, even if she is straight.”
I smile hearing Jess’s comment be met with an echo of, Yeps, and That’s it! From Alan, Sam and Big-G, even if Alan and Sam are getting a little more forceful with their, well, playing on the couch.
“I’m just saying, I know Toni likes girls, even if she’s never, well...” Steve says. “And you’re not going to let yourself be—”
“Who says she hasn’t been with a girl?” Jess asks. And I’m glad I have a defender.
“Ever? Like, ever ever?” Steve asks, and laughs, “No. Never!” And that makes me flinch. “Maybe in school. Maybe she—”
“Tonight!” Jess says.
“But I mean with a girl! And there’s absolutely no way you three... While you were... There’s no way he—”
“She,” I say.
“She...” Steve says.
“What do you mean, Steve? It only counts if Toni runs riot on a woman? Like a big strong, no-use, no-ability—”
“Are you saying it only counts if I’m getting pounded by a proper, rugged manly man?” I ask, interrupting Sally.
“No. What? No, never. That’s not what I... That’s the opposite of what I mean. You are jok—”
“You did ask me to make myself look pretty for you tonight.”
“She is very pretty. Even you admitted she looks nice,” Sam says as he and Alan begin their kissing again.
Alan nods in agreement, face full of tongue. “Stunning,” he mumbles.
“You bought me $400 shoes!” I say.
“Oh my god the shoes!” Sally says.
“A $300 dress.”
“If you want to go back to being the old you, you can give the dress to me,” Jess says to me. “But I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Some sexy lingerie...”
“No, that’s not what I bought, it was—” Steve starts.
“Do you want to push my thong aside? To fuck—”
“Stop, Toni!” Steve bellows.
“You don’t think I’m hot?” I say.
“She’s a natural,” Sally says.
“I’m a natural what?” I ask.
“Toni can torment Big-G anytime she wants,” Big-G says.
“Some day, Big-G,” I say.
“I like Toni,” Sam says, taking another oxygen break in his make-out session with Alan on the couch.
“I’ve always liked Toni,” Alan says, continuing to rub Sam’s thigh. “Steve and Toni are my best friends.”
“I like Toni, too,” Steve protests.
“We know!” everyone says.
“But how much?” Sally says.
“You three are insufferable.”
Sally looks over at me and mouths Us three! while pointing between me, Jess and herself but Jess is distracted.
She’s holding up what looks like an oversized silver bean in her hand. “Who knows what one of these is?” she asks.
“Big-G is pleading the fifth on this one,” Big-G says.
“I know what that is,” Sam says.
“Of course you do,” Sally says. “We were talking about it at work.”
“What is it?” Alan asks Sam, but Sam shakes his head.
“Is it some kind of stress ball? One of them?” Steve asks. “Like those Chinese, or, you know those Japanese things you hold in your hand, and—”
“Oh, it definitely relieves stress,” Sally says. “And yes, you do hold it.”
“You need to get one of these and carry it in your purse, Toni,” Jess says.
“I don’t know—” Jess takes my hand, places the silver thing between my fingers and flicks a switch. It starts to vibrate in my grip while it buzzes. “Oh,” I say, realisation beginning to dawn. “OH!”
“Yes, babe. Lifesaver!”
Alan looks at Sam, who smiles. “I still don’t—” Alan begins, but one look from Sam seems to paint a thousand words. “It’s powerful enough to?”
Sam nods and shrugs at Alan while the buzzing is still going strong between my shook fingers.
“What is it?” Steve asks.
“What’s it doing?” Sally asks Steve.
“It’s vibra...” Steve starts a sentence but he’s really not that slow. “It’s very small, isn’t it? I mean, how does it go in?” he says, while making complex hand motions.
“Those poor women you’ve been with,” Sally says, looking digusted.
“I’m telling you two, come to the light,” Jess says, looking between me and Sally. “Forget the men!”
“Why is it we only ever talk about sex?” Steve asks. He’s not slow at all.
“You can talk about how hot we are,” Sally says.
“That’s still sex.”
“No, it’s about feeling good, and being complimented. I’ll tell you you look good when you do. And sometimes I’ll lie to make you feel good, and then you do look good because of confidence.”
“You look great, Sally,” Steve says.
“And you don’t look at all desperate, Steve,” Jess says.
“How do you feel, Toni?” Sally asks.
“Like a million bucks,” I say.
“Damn right, girl!” Sally says. And she holds out her hand for a low five, but I’m now snug on the beanbag next to Jess so give her finger guns instead. Sally laughs and rubs her forehead.
“OK. Fine, fine. Change of subject,” Steve says. “What do you hate most about yourself? What would you change about yourself?”
“You’re asking Toni?” Jess says, putting an arm around me.
“I give finger guns,” I say, quietly.
Jess chuckles and kisses me on the temple. “Never change, girl,” she whispers back.
“No, everyone. Just a question. Simple question.”
Jess leans forward and I go with her, now sitting upright, no longer in her arms. As I perch next to her, leaning on my knees, she takes my hand in both of hers and holds it in her lap. “OK, fine. If you want. But Toni doesn’t go first. Or even second.”
“Maybe third,” I say.
“You go first, Steve,” Jess says. “You brought it up.”
Big-G coughs, opens his eyes, and says without waiting for Steve to talk, “Big-G hates nothing about himself, and accepts Big-G is the package Big-G comes in, and that everyone here should be happy with who they are, and do what they need to do in life to be truly themselves, whatever that may be, without worry, doubt or shame, but saying that, Big-G would like to stop talking in the third person but it’s engrained in Big-G now.”
“You don’t at the office,” Steve says.
“Big-G is ever the professional in workplace settings,” the very naked Big-G says.
“I don’t like my hair,” I say. Despite not having to say anything I really felt it.
“Your hair is just normal hair,” Steve says.
“It’s too angular, and sharp. The black is too black as well. It doesn’t look natural. I don’t want to look so severe,” I say, reaching up and touching the artificial strands.
“That’s a wig, dude,” Steve says.
“That’s her hair! Dude!” Jess says.
“Jess gets her hair done at least once every three weeks,” Sally says. “All the colours. She’ll be bald by the time she’s forty. It’s fun, though. You should try it, Toni.”
“I couldn’t afford that,” I say. “Which is another thing. My job is terrible. I get no respect. I’ve never had a promotion, my raises are all the base, agreed level. I see all of you doing so well professionally and I don’t seem to make any progress.”
“Have they met Toni?” Jess asks.
“I’ve worked there three years,” I say.
“No... Toni, Toni?”
“What? No! No way,” I say.
“The Toni I know would be kicking ass,” Jess says. “But I suppose I don’t know the Toni who’s been working there for three years. That could be a completely different person.”
“He is,” I say quietly, with a sigh.
“Big-G thinks it’s a pity the terms of the bet means people can’t get dressed again.”
“Why?” Steve asks.
“Big-G thinks Sam and Alan would be making their way to one of their homes right now if they had their clothes on.” He nods towards the couch where Alan is sitting with handful of Sam’s groin while they make out like sixteen year olds.
“Yeah, fair,” Steve says. “Lads’ Night isn’t so much Lads’ Night when three women rock up and upset our rhythm.” He throws a cushion at Sam and Alan. “You two can use my room. Well, the couch. Just the couch! Definitely not my bed. I’ve just changed the sheets and I do not want juices all over them.”
Alan stands with Sam’s hand in his, leans into kiss him quickly before pulling him out of his sitting position, and in a stage whisper to him says, “Mmm, juices.”
“This is truly fucked,” Steve says. “Like, what the fuck is happening?” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“C’mon, Steve. Let’s get those clothes in the dryer,” Sally says as she stands.
“Yeah, Lads’ Night was a bust. Everyone can change back soon.”
“No,” I gasp, leaning forward out of my seat, reaching my arms as if to stop them. The weight of having to get back into my old clothes and no longer being allowed to be Toni pressing on me.
“It’s OK, babe,” Jess says. “It’s OK...” She pushes me back on the beanbag as Steve and Sally leave. “Close your eyes, Big-G,” she continues.
“Big-G is a gentleman,” Big-G says while Jess reaches down to my dress, her hand going behind me and lifting my behind up the beanbag.
I raise myself knowing this will all be over soon and it’s the last of, well, everything. I’ll go with anything if this night doesn’t end.
“You close your eyes, Toni,” Jess says.
“Now?” I ask.
“I promised you something,” she says. I hear the little vibrator click on. Buzzing fills the air and I draw a long, deep breath. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
I feel her hike my dress up above my groin, up around my stomach, cooler air reaching my butt with only a thong and the pantihose to clothe it, turning me on just a little. She pushes me back down on the beanbag, lies up next to me, wrapping one of her legs around mine, in a tangle.
There’s a swelling in my chest, in my core. A swelling that feels almost like peace. Jess moves her vibrating hand all the way down to my calf. Shivers shoot from my leg all over at her touch, especially through my core, with her inching the vibrator up the back of my leg, and behind my knee. Her other hand is now inside my dress, and reaching up, inside my bra.
She cups my breast, taking the whole of it in her fingers as I push my ass deep into the giving bean bag, squirming, muscles tensing. Wanting to be touched.
She grabs my nipple between her fingers and pinches just as she gets to the inner space between my crotch and thigh with the vibrator, sending pulses forcing me to spread my legs to take it. I want to spread my legs. I want to take it. “Yes...” I whisper, knowing if this happens this one night will have been worth it. Just one night of whatever this is.
“Open your eyes, babe,” she says. And I look into her gaze as I move my mound up and down to grind against the heel of her palm she obligingly holds there.
“Look at G,” she says. And I do. My eyes go to his dick and I lick my lips as I imagine me kneeling before him, my own hand penetrating myself as I lower my mouth around him.
My night is ending, this is ending. I don’t care about what I’m thinking any more. I just go with it. I want this, just once. Just one night.
“G..?” Jess says.
Big-G opens his eyes and I move my stare from his dick to meet his view as though I’m looking up at him from right before him.
He looks at me as though he has a question, and as I notice this Jess moves the vibrator from my the crook of my thigh and groin to my panties clad penis. “Please!” I moan, spreading my legs wider still, still staring at G.
G nods. He brings his hand to his dick and slowly begins to stroke, his cock growing hard.
“I want this,” I say.
“Tell me what you’re going to do to G,” Jess says.
“I want my mouth around him,” I say. “I want to mount him.”
“Yes,” Jess says. G strokes faster while watching Jess fuck me with her hand.
“Then what would you do?”
“My legs wrap around him, clinging onto him. I’m on top. I pull him in close feeling him between me. He’s between me... I move my hands over his chest, his hair is so...” I moan as Jess presses the vibrator hard into my dick. “His chest hair...” I moan again as I clamp my thighs tight onto her hand not letting her get away. “I’m on him.”
“Do you want him?”
“Yes! All of him. I want all of him in me!”
I’m breathing faster and I don’t know if my eyes are open or closed. I don’t know if I can even see G masturbating or if I feel him on top of me.
Jess moves more fingers down to my taint, fingering me.
I think my eyes are closed as my head is thrown back. I can’t imagining seeing anything. I just feel everything. Everything is so real, so true.
I buck into her vibrating hand. She’s more forceful on my nipple now, twisting, aggressive, my tits feels so sensitive. So alive! My insides contract. I want G inside me.
“Is G going to fuck you? Would you let him enter you, Toni? An innocent virgin? Would you let G fuck you?”
“Oh please fuck me, G,” I say. Jess stabs fingers into where my scrotum is and I fuck her hand back. I’m rocking in the beanbag now. It’s a rhythm fucking me and I’m giving it all back. I’m being fucked and I’m fucking; changing between pounding my ass back into the seat and fucking Jess’s hand which is equally fucking me.
I feel G in me and I’m imagining him repeatedly entering me, in and out, forcing me to scream. “G, please,” I plead. I’m going to... Jess is violent with me now. I can’t survive this. I want G to do me hard, like I’m a little bitch. “Fuck your little bitch, G. Fuck me hard. Take me like a bitch, please! Fuck me. Fuck me!” I scream.
My legs are wide, me giving in completely to Jess’s hand pounding me, and I see my heels pointing towards the sky as G fucks me. I have no more to give. My muscles seize up! He’s fucking me and I’ve got nothing to give. I’m all woman. I’m fully woman. “G, I’m going to...” My back arches. I’m so fucking contorted. I’m twisted. The whole of me contracts. My eyes are wide open. “Fuck me! G! Fuck your little bitch! Cum in your little whore!”
Spasms run through my body as I shoot into my panties again, letting out something guttural from deep within me, before falling back into the beanbag. My legs go limp and land spread eagled as Jess fucks my scrotum a few more times, then caresses me, my legs, my breasts. I lie back and close my eyes, breathing hard. There’s cum all inside my panties, inside the liner, but that’s me. That’s all me, and I love it. Jess is tracing the pad from the outside with her vibrating hand. I feel warm, and whole. My body is at peace.
I feel a kiss on my lips. Jess is above me. “You did great, babe. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, and perfect,” she says.
“I...” I begin to say. Then I turn my head to look at Big-G. His cock is soft, his eyes are closed, seemingly asleep. I don’t know how long he’s been like that.
“Want to do it again?” Jess asks.
“When?” I say.
“You’ve got a whole new life in front of you, Toni,” Jess says. “If you want this this is yours.”
I close my eyes, not able to stop myself from feeling, thinking of being fucked while Jess cuddles up next to me. Thinking of what I need. Thinking of who I am.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I feel Jess rattle me.
“C’mon, babe, get yourself cleaned up, we’re leaving,” she says.
“What, where?” I say.
“The taxi’s on it’s way. Go to the toilet while you can and you need to borrow a jacket from Steve for outside.”
“What? No!” I say. Sure, this night has been amazing, and I don’t want it to end, but I can’t go outside in a black, date night dress and heels. I can’t let people see me in this get-up!
“I’m not leaving you here with these weirdos. Who knows what they’d do to you! You can come back to my place. I have a big bed.”
“I can’t go out like this!” I whisper.
“It’s dark, no-one will care and there’s no way I’m leaving you alone tonight, not after...” Jess says. “Even then, we have to drop Sally off at her place and I would really prefer if it wasn’t just me in the car with the taxi driver.”
“But...” I say, but I don’t really know what to continue with as I sit up out of the beanbag.
“Anyway, you don’t actually want to stay here. You know it, I know it, and I don’t want to spend the time best used by you cleaning up on convincing you, so let’s cut to the chase,” she says, then she slaps me on the thigh.
“I’ll go the toilet,” I say. “And think about it.”
“No. No thinking. Thinking is bad for you. You already know. You know what you want!”
And as I make my way to the bathroom, and lock the door, and pull down my panties, and sit down to pee I know I do already know. I don’t want tonight to end. Tomorrow is different. Once tomorrow comes it’ll be different, but before I go to bed it’s just a game, right? This is just... What is it? It’s not a game. Just don’t let tonight end. I don’t want tonight to end!
Leaving the bathroom I hear conversation from the kitchen. Walking in Sally is still fully clothed, sweater dress and boots, and Steve has now lost his tie, shirt and under-shirt, with chest bared and poker hand laid out in front of him.
“I need to borrow a jacket, Steve,” I say.
“You going somewhere?” he says with a chuckle.
“Back to Jess’s.”
“Dressed like..? I mean... It’s your life, dude,” he says.
“It is her life,” Sally says. “Now go get her a jacket and be thankful the game is ending and I’m not forcing you to get your tiny, little peepee out. Then you’d have no chance with Toni.”
“Fine, yeah, sure,” Steve says. “I mean, the dryer will be done with your normal clothes in about thirty minutes, but you do you,” he says, looking me up and down before leaving to his room to get me something to keep warm.
“Go gather your bag and things, Toni,” Sally says.
Soon I’m standing outside Steve’s building, waiting for a taxi, arm in arm with my new friends, looking around like I’m seeing the night for the first time. The colours are so true.
As the taxi pulls up I’m shaking. I whisper to Jess, “What about my voice?”
“Just close your eyes,” She says and climbs into the back seat, pulling me behind, with Sally clambering in after me.
“Good night, ladies?” the taxi driver asks.
“Great night! We’re pooped. So if you hear snores don’t be alarmed,” Jess says, and squeezes my hand, so I lay my head back and close my eyes.
“Oh? You must know my wife,” he says. “Forty years married and she still denies she sounds like a saw on timber.”
We drive through the night and eventually I open my eyes to watch the city passing by. I see revellers and partiers, people on dates — some dressed like me — and it all looks just perfect. We drive miles out of town, to a suburb to drop Sally off, then back into the city, and before I know it I’m in Jess’s little studio apartment, kicking off my heels.
“Go on. Go wash your makeup off,” Jess says.
When I come out of the toilet Jess points at the bed before she goes to clean up. I see the side she pointed to has the covers folded down with a nightdress laid out on top of it. I get undressed except for my panties, put on the nightdress and climb into the bed, exhausted.
Through the fog of coming sleep, through exhaustion, and maybe something else, I hear the toilet door open, and Jess say, “You know you’re amazing, Toni.”
“Tonight was amazing,” I mumble, and soon I’m in nothingness.
Waking up I roll over and look at Jess sleeping next to me. She opens her eyes and says, “Back to sleep, girl. It’s the weekend, it’s early, and you have a whole new life ahead of you, if you want it. You need your rest.” I close my eyes and settle back into the warmth of the blankets.
I don’t know how much later it is when I finally wake for real but natural light is coming through the windows. Jess isn’t lying next to me.
I drag myself out of bed pulling down the nightdress that’s ridden up and sleepily walk over to Jess sitting at an outcrop of counter, placing myself down opposite her.
She holds a finger to her lips, picks up her phone and dials a number, then places it back in the centre of the counter. After a few rings someone picks up. “She’s awake!” Jess says.
“How are you feeling, babe?” the woman asks.
It’s Sally.
“Tired,” I say.
“Well Big-G would tire any girl out,” Sally says with a laugh.
At that comment I feel blood rush to my face, pins and needles all over and it’s like my body has caved in.
“She’s blushing,” Jess says.
“With the screaming I heard she’d want to be, the little slut.”
“Can you please stop,” I say, breathlessly.
“OK, what’s the plan for today?” Sally asks.
“I have to study in the afternoon, catch up on some things,” Jess says. It dawns on me this is ending. All of this is ending. I’ll be going home and it’ll be normal again. It’ll be normal and boring.
“I’ll call you this evening, then.
“Toni, give Jess your number and I’ll get it from her. I would usually say something like it was a pleasure to meet you but we’ll be running riot again soon so it’s unnecessary. Anyway, you already know all this.”
“I...” I say. What does she mean Again? Soon?
“Toni’s lost for words,” Jess says.
I force myself to speak up but all I can say is, “I had fun.”
“Yeah, we know. You’re one of us, now. Jess, get her sorted.”
“Sure thing,” Jess says.
“I’ll call tonight,” Sally says, then hangs up.
Jess stands and takes a few steps from the counter running across half the top of this one big room, the counter setting apart the small area for the kitchen. “Coffee?” she asks.
“Please,” I say.
As I watch her pour the coffee and move the milk, sugar and cup to the counter I realise my mind is all static, me unable to pull a single thread of thought from the seeming thousands ricocheting inside there.
I close my eyes and wish I could have some quiet, like sleep. And my sleep really was quiet, and actually comfortable. Even waking up felt comfortable.
Jess pushes the cup in front of me and sits down, crossing her legs. She looks completely different in an oversized t-shirt and no makeup. Twelve hours ago she seemed out there, kind of wild, forceful — a punk shinkicker — still caring, but now? Now she just seems, I don’t know, regular? Weary, maybe?
“Thoughts?” she asks. “Questions..?”
“What happened?” I say, without even thinking.
“What do you think happened?”
Images flash through my mind from last night that don’t really form a story, more a feeling, but it’s a feeling I can’t identify. I did things, crazy things, but I don’t know what it was; what the night was. I completely let go to a moment. Longer than a moment. “I just... I don’t know,” I say.
“Oh, please. You’re not stupid, and you’re not some ditz of a girl. Think about what happened last night.”
She looks at me as she lowers her head, leaning in, and her look is filled with certainty, and acceptance, I think, I think it looks like acceptance. I hope it is.
“I really don’t know,” I say, feeling hollow in my chest.
“No, you don’t want to say it. To put it in words,” Jess says. “And that’s fine. But just think about it. Permit yourself to know it.” She leans back.
I lift up the coffee, then place it back down again without taking a drink. “When did you know? You know, know me? That I wasn’t..?” I ask. “That I guess I’m not... That this is... That I am... I am... I—?”
“What? That you weren’t playing? And you are who you are?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess...” This feels real.
“Instantly,” she says. “Never,” she continues. “I still don’t really know.”
That rocks me. How can she not know who I am? The person sitting opposite to her? The, well, a kind of, sort of... A kind of ‘wants this to go’ on person. A person she helped create.
“Come on. You’re thinking something big.”
“I...” I can’t say it.
“You’re thinking the big question, so I’ll ask. Do you want Toni with an i to end?” she says. “It’s out there now so straight answer.”
“No,” I say, snapping the word out in an instant; as if to put it out of its misery; to fill the hollow in my chest with something. Then I sigh.
My chest still feels hollow but now it’s more a delicate, intricate lattice connecting points inside me. It’s hollow but filled with a pattern supporting it. I want it to be filled with colour. If there was colour to this pattern in my chest it’d be real. I’d be whole. I’d be real.
“Then that’s that. Decision made. Simple, really.”
“It’s not simple,” I say.
“Oh my god, Toni! It’s so simple! Just let it happen.”
“But I’m not a girl,” I say, shocked at myself.
“Who cares?” Jess says, which is not what I want to hear. I do not want Jess to be telling me I’m not a girl.
“But if I’m not a girl?” I say.
“But what if you are? What does it matter what I think? It’s about what you think. It’s about who you are,” she says. “It’s about what you want.”
“I want to...”
“Yes, you want to be you. And to answer your original question the second you walked through that door, into the living room, in all your beauty I knew this wasn’t a joke. That chances are you weren’t playing a game, you weren’t just living up to a silly bet. Your head was held high, and you looked happy, and proud. You were just you. And there was something to your look that you wanted people to see you; to know you and accept you as you. You new and really there.”
“I wasn’t looking for...” I say, but I feel uneasy saying it so I trail off, not finishing.
“That’s the impression you gave off. And every moment of last night, every interaction, everything you said and did confirmed that you were exactly who I saw you were. I didn’t know if you were just playing a game, playing it exceedingly well, so I can only go on what I see, and hear, and my own instincts. And Toni, from what I can tell, and trust, is a woman I want in my life. You seem like an honest person. So you’re my new friend, one who’ll be with me a long, long time. If you want.”
“How do I do this?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this,” Jess says. “But you have the internet. Start googling. What I can do is be your friend.”
“Start googling,” I say, and think of my computer at home. “How do I get home!?”
“Get a taxi,” she says. “And there’s a few buses that stop outside. Walk? How would you normally get home?”
“I can’t wear what I was wearing last night!” I say.
“No! You can’t! I don’t want neighbours seeing a woman do the walk of shame from my front door if I didn’t even get some,” Jess says. “It’d be cruel on me.”
“I mean what do I wear?”
“Look around you, Toni. What do you see?”
Her studio is mostly wood laminate on the floor with a rug, a futon with coffee table before it, a bed, the kitchen area, the counter we’re at, and rack after rack of clothing, which my eyes keep turning to.
“Yeah, I like fashion,” Jess says. “I like thrifting. It calms me. And I don’t like giving my clothes away but you’re my favourite person in the world, at the moment, so what do you want to wear? I have enough that’ll fit you for you to choose.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Oh my god, Toni. You have words. Use them. Try and please string a cohesive sentence together without me dragging everything out of you. I know it’s hard, I know this is new but what do you like? What style do you want? Who do you want to be? That’s the most important thing, be who you are. Have fun! It’s fun being who you are!”
“I liked what Sally was wearing,” I say. Then try to force something more out of my mind. “I don’t know. It looked warm. Cosy almost. But, you know, it showed her off. She looked put together. And it was, I don’t know. It was of a time but still fresh.”
“Sweater dress, boots, easy,” Jess says. She continues with a mutter, “A choice, though...”
“Boots?” I ask, interrupting her. “What if they don’t fit?”
“Oh, I put your heels on last night. They are divine!” She laughs. “And expensive. And we’re the same size. Which is the obvious reason you’re a woman! No man would have such dainty feet as you.”
“We’re having a pedicure next weekend?” I ask.
“Yes! We are! You remembered.” And I think back to the start of last night, in Steve’s bedroom, imagining someone nibbling on my toes. “You drink your coffee and I’ll pull some options out for you,” Jess says as she stands and walks between clothes racks.
I’m finishing my coffee, all up in my mind about how this isn’t actually over — that I’m doing something insane, if just for this weekend — when Jess says, “Come on, babes. I’ve picked two outfits for you.”
I stand and walk to her. On the bed are two knit dresses, different lengths — the white one is ankle length, the black sweater dress a few inches above the knee — both full sleeved. The white one is wool, and a little fluffy, by design. The other is a tight machine knit, black, with mirrored, horizontal stripes across the chest in orange, blue and purple-ish grey.
“Which do you like?” Jess asks.
“I love them both,” I say.
“You can’t have both. I told you you’re not raiding my wardrobe whenever you feel like it. This is just necessity. But a necessity I’m happy to give into, this time.”
“The white wool would look, well, pretty powerful with my bob” I say, thinking of the black, angular wig. “But the black one, I don’t know, it looks more ready; more today. I like the colour through it.”
“You don’t have to wear the wig,” Jess says.
“What? Of course I do!” I say.
“No! Not at all! You pick the dress you want, don’t think of your hair and I’ll make you look like a total hottie going about her Saturday business.”
“The black one,” I say, thinking of Jess making my man hair into something. I do like the black one that bit more, anyway; the dash of colour.
“Done!” Jess says.
“Do I just—”
“Yeah, you just!”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“Yes, you just get dressed, like any other woman on a Saturday morning. You just go about your day. You probably have some errands to run and you probably need to look up a few things online. You probably need to catch up on sleep after a busy week at work and tiring night out. You just!”
“Yeah...” I say.
Jess picks up and hands me the black, knit sweater dress, then goes to a drawer, rooting around. “Some everyday panties,” she says, handing me a multipack of underwear. “Yours must be sickening by now, and some tights. The boots come later. Wash up, get dressed and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
I clutch the clothes Jess gave me along with my own bra, go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, trying to take stock. This all just seems, I don’t know, normal? But vibrant, somehow? Like I’m energised but this is the kind of energy I was missing from my life, until now. And I get to continue it, today, at least. Once I get home...
Sure, I’m tired, and my brain has completely emptied, but why wouldn’t that be the case? It’s a Saturday morning, I had a great night last night, along with great sex, for the first time. I’m at my friend’s apartment and I have the rest of the day to unwind. I have the rest of the day to maybe process what’s happening with me, and what happened to me, with no distractions.
As I walk out of the toilet — fully dressed — I stop and raise my arms to the side to show myself to Jess. “Yeah, that’s it,” she says. “Just a normal, everyday Saturday every woman has. Now pass me your old panties and your nightdress.”
I hand them over and Jess busies herself with something on her bed with her back turned to me.
I sit down on her futon, mind completely empty.
I’m staring off into space when I hear Jess say, “Hello? Toni?”
“What?” I say.
“What were you thinking about?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Come-on. I thought we were stopping the whole reticent, obtuse, not talking thing.”
“No, really. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was just sitting. Feeling normal. More normal than I usually feel,” I say.
“That’s good, I suppose. Normal is good,” she says. She hefts a sparkly yellow, hardshell suitcase onto the floor. “I’ve packed your bag, well, my bag. I want it back. It has wheels. I hate to rush you out but I have a professional exam coming up in a few weeks and I really need to study.”
“Of course, yeah,” I say.
“These are the boots I’ve picked, just a chunky wedge on them. I don’t want you tripping over heels.”
“No, a visit to the hospital would not be good like this,” I say. I unzip one of the knee high black boots and set my foot in it, zipping it up again.
“Do you have a plan on how you’re getting home?” Jess asks.
“The bus? I guess. I think you’re on the same route as me.”
“Good, good. But please message me when you get there. I want to know you’re safe,” she says, before coming into me for a hug. “Oh shit!”
“What?” I ask.
“I said I’d do your hair. Your wig is packed away.”
“Fuck! I nearly forgot.”
“You’re too good at this woman business, Toni. I didn’t even notice. Sit down again, it won’t take long.”
I sit and Jess messes with some mousses and gels in my hair, primping and teasing, turning my head this way and that. It really isn’t long before she says, “Yeah, that’s done.”
I stand and go to the toilet door to see myself in the mirror and I look like a perfectly normal woman. My hair isn’t that short, but it’s not long hair by any stretch. Business respectable, and lacking style, normally, but Jess has made it into a woman’s short tousled look in an almost 60s way, like I’d see on a model.
“Right! We can’t have you staring at yourself all day. Time for you to go home and start googling, making plans, calling doctors, et cetera, et cetera.” And this time she does give me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, which I reciprocate.
“I’ve packed your suitcase with your clothes from last night, you have your handbag, your phone, your keys and your money. Anything I’m forgetting?”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Yeah, of course,” Jess says.
“No. For everything.”
“It was my delight. And you can get me a drink the next time me and Toni are out,” she says as we’re walking towards the front door.
Jess opens it, and I stop on the threshold for a moment, before taking a step outside, wheeling the suitcase behind me.
Before I realise it the door is closed and I’m hearing a security chain being put in place.
This is me.
I take a deep breath.
If you'd like to offer feedback or kind words — or just give a big Thumbs Up! — you can contact me on Bluesky at Swolle