The Transvestite’s Apprentice

1 - The House Party

The little cottage sat on the very edge of suburban Blackwood Hill, birch trees and thick undergrowth shielded it from the modern office blocks and retail units a mile or so along road. David and Emily had stumbled upon it by accident during a leisure drive, in the way you stumble upon a de-nested baby bird during a country walk. They hadn’t been looking for anything; at least, that was what they told themselves. But the moment they’d seen the cottage - stone walls, ivy creeping like little fingers up to the roof - they’d been sold.

David had gone quiet for a moment, as he often did, his brown eyes roaming over the unkempt garden and the chipped stone steps leading up to the front door. Emily knew him well enough to see the hint of excitement he tried to hide. The more he cared about something, the less he said. It took him two hours to admit he wanted to live there, by which point Emily had already sent a message to the sales agent. 

Emily was their driving force. She’d had to be, carving out a life for herself in a world that rarely fit. Coming out as trans had been  less of a coming-out and more of a reckoning with the world, David had been her closest friend through it all, first as a companion when she needed someone who understood without speaking, and then as a lover, when they finally admitted they were each other’s half.

They moved in just as spring shifted toward summer, the days stretched long and warm, and every night, they slept with the windows open, listening to the soft sounds of nighttime woodland - hooting of distant owls, the scurrying sounds of small, unidentified, creatures. For David, the evening commute marked escape from the endless noise of Blackwood Hill and the stress of his job in a solicitors office. Emily, meanwhile, was walking distance from her job at a local library.

That far out of Blackwood Hill people weren’t used to newcomers, especially not a couple like David and Emily. The locals observed the incomers with a blend of suspicion and mild fascination. After a few weeks, David and Emily decided to host a housewarming party. It wasn’t their usual style - neither of them particularly enjoyed being the centre of attention, and the idea of inviting new people into their haven was nerve-wracking. But Emily had convinced David, “just a glass of wine and a few nibbles” it felt like the right thing to do to Emily; giving the locals time to see her up close. So they needlessly cleaned the cottage, attic to basement, and talked with a confidence that neither felt inside.

Emily set the scene - arranged fresh flowers in the lounge room, laid out snacks in the kitchen, selected a mellow playlist she hoped would provide a mask for awkward silence. Guests trickled in, old Mrs. Summers from the flower shop arrived with a smile and a bundle of sunflowers. Then came Anna, one of Emily’s regulars at the library, a soft-spoken woman with a passion for poetry. To their surprise, a couple of people from the café also showed up, including Mateo, who seemed fascinated by every detail of the cottage that formed the odd couples nest.

As the night continued, the little cottage filled, and Davids nerves calmed. Adrian, an old friend of David’s from university, arrived with a slight blonde man by his side. From the get-go Adrian played the outgoing, colourful gay man and introduced his roommate to David and Emily “This is Engelbrekt Spink, my straight roommate," Adrian explained, patted Engelbrekt’s shoulder as though presenting a prize “well, for now at least.”

“You know anything you say tonight goes straight back to Matthew” Emily laughed, offering a drink. "Welcome to the middle of nowhere Engelbrekt Spink," she teased.

“Or on the edge of somewhere?” Engelbrekt said with a smile “I work at International Commodities, you know, far side of the woodland.”

As more guests arrived, David and Emily did their best to float between conversations, ensuring everyone felt at home. The air hummed with laughter and the sounds of glasses clinking. Emily found herself telling a story about her first week at the library, while David and Adrian got caught up on old times in the corner of the room.

For hosts and guests the house warming had done its job by ten and, one by one, their new neighbours bid farewell leaving behind ghosts of laughter hanging in the quiet air. Soon, Adrian and Engelbrekt were the last two guests, “thanks for the invite, you two,” Adrian said, stretching out on the armchair indicated he was in no hurry to be home.

Engelbrekt felt more relaxed than he had at the beginning of the night as if, in being so close to so many varieties of gayishness, he had felt threatened. 

Alcohol had loosened Adrian’s tongue, he tapped Engelbrekt’s knee. “Actually, Engel here’s got something I think he could use an outside opinion on,” he said, his grin widening “and I am guessing you guys might be the right people to advise Engelbrekt.”

Engelbrekt shifted uncomfortably, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he looked down at his hands. "I don't want to bother anyone, especially David - it’s a bit of a… complicated employment matter.”

"Hey, we love complicated matters," Emily replied, settling into her chair and giving him an encouraging smile. "Besides, we've already had a few drinks so we're primed for deep conversation."

David nodded in agreement, gesturing for Engelbrekt to go on. "Sometimes it helps to talk things out with strangers. Treat us like an unofficial therapy group."

Engelbrekt hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He exchanged a quick look with Adrian, who nodded encouragingly. Finally, he took a sip of after-party coffee “Alright, it’s like this" he began, his voice low. He outlined the layoffs at work a few months ago, not only his company, the entire sector was undergoing a slow down. “I see ex-colleagues still looking for work, any work.”

David knew of International Commodities legal team, he offered a noncommittal “they have a reputation among the legal profession.” David also knew the type of people who worked there and had gotten laid off, he had represented several at tribunal - people who had gone from lavish lifestyle to living in a box - well, not a box exactly - but a bedsit. 

Emily stepped in to lighten the mood and offered up practical ‘nose to grindstone’ advice. 

David assessed Engelbrekt - cheap clothes, cheap watch, iPhone 6, cracked screen. It would have sounded mean if he was saying it aloud, but in his thoughts was fine. David was not evaluating him in a gay examining a straight way, but in a solicitor evaluating a potential client way. He wrongly placed Engelbrekt in worker bee category. 

Rather than feel offended Engelbrekt would have been pleased if he could hear the in-head assessment. Engelbrekt was indeed bee category - a busy bee who hovered effortlessly among the top earners in his group. Unlike colleagues Engelbrekt was one of life's savers, he took more pleasure from looking at his savings account than looking at a shiny new car or some sparkly doo-dat. 

He used a pause in conversation to empty his head cache "If they start layoffs at work, do you think I could claim I'm gay, you know, play the discrimination card." 

Emily almost choked on her coffee, raising an eyebrow as she gave Engelbrekt the sort of once-over she normally reserved for trans-groupies. "You? Gay? Honey, please. Even with a cock in your mouth you wouldn't pass for five minutes.”

David recognised his partners over the top even for drag queen tone for what it was - Emily’s defence tactic.

Adrian chuckled nervously, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, you'd crumple faster than cheap copy paper." He cursed himself for ever bringing Engelbrekt. Around gay people Engelbrekt was like a hand grenade, pin pulled. Engelbrekt could be such a thoughtless cunt at times. Adrian glanced at David who, to his surprise, looked amused. He could not read the look Emily wore but, nevertheless, decided it was time to leave. 

2 - The Morning After

David spooned a little closer, they were reliving their successful housewarming from the comfort of bed “Did Engel-whats-his-name piss you off?”

“What he said should have” Emily said softly “but he said it so, so innocently - like when a puppy is test biting.”

“You like him?”

“Yea”

“Me too.”

“I bet Adrian will give him what for” Emily reached behind her, stroked David.

Emily was on the money. 

“You were so out of order last night Engelbrekt.” Adrian sounded calm “I called them first thing and apologised for your insulting outburst, blamed it on the alcohol.”

Engelbrekt gratefully accepted the offered excuse. He and Adrian knew full well that no-one was drunk, in fact Engelbrekt had been designated driver. 

“I told Emily you would give her a call to apologise” Adrian sent a text with the number, Engelbrekt’s iPhone chimed, “try not to insult her.”

“I’ll leave it a day or two then thank her for the evening” Engelbrekt smiled “and apologise.”

Before Engelbrekt built up courage his iPhone chimed. 

Emily: meet for coffee? 

He hesitated a moment, wondered why was she contacting him. Decided it must be to reprimand him for the inappropriate comment. Sooner or later he wold have to face Emily. Engelbrekt manned-up, replied with “sounds good.”

The coffee shop Emily chose was halfway between his office and her library.

Neutral territory. 

A place to sign peace treaties. 

CoffeeCoffee was small, bustling, and nestled in a cozy neighbourhood lined with boutique shops. Emily scanned tables for Engelbrekt, even to a stranger she would have looked librarianish - distressed jeans, faded band tee tucked in at one hip, clean sneakers - scuffed enough to show just the right amount of casualness. Her dark hair framed sharp, confident features.

Engelbrekt walked in moments later, if she asked he would deny he had been waiting along the road for a half hour. Engelbrekt was everything Emily pictured in her mind. Just to be one hundred percent sure she quickly reassessed him as if seeing him for the first time - unremarkable young man, early 20s, blonde hair, pulled into a short pony. Clothes - simple shirt and jeans, featureless dark sneakers. 

Engelbrekt was neutral to the point of invisibility. 

A blank canvas.

She waved him over. 

“Hey, sunshine,” Emily greeted, flashing a grin she hoped portrayed carefreeness. If what she was about to suggest went ‘pear shaped’ - and it may well - then Emily would have ‘just joking’ to hide behind. “You know the drill. Counter’s up there. I’ll take a flat white and whatever’s got a pound of sugar in it.”

Engelbrekt nodded and headed to the counter. Emily leaned back in her chair, resumed studying him. From behind he looked almost too perfect. She smirked at the thought but waved it away before she got ahead of herself. He returned moments later and set down their drinks and pastries.

“So,” Emily said, taking her cappuccino. “David and I have talked about your little predicament at work.”

Engelbrekt’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth already full of croissant. He nodded, for her to continue.

“We still can’t believe you floated that idea at my housewarming,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What did you imagine pretending to be gay would look like?”

“I am so, so sorry for upsetting you and David, the words escaped before…” He flushed slightly, at the memory of how she’d reacted when he brought it up. “I just wanted the ground to open and swallow me.”

“Relax Engelbrekt, David likes you and he already persuaded me to forgive you.” Emily cut in with a teasing grin. “But it got me thinking. If you’re that worried about your job I have an idea - something you could easily pull off, something a bit more... minority groupish, something requiring a dash of daring.”

“Daring?” he repeated, his tone wary.

“Let me explain something - being gay is an inside feeling, not a minority badge you can wear for all to see. Crossdressing however, is the exact opposite,” she said lightly, sipping her coffee “from the get go you get to wear a fuck-off size minority badge.”

Engelbrekt looked stunned. “You are suggesting I wear women’s clothes?”

“Do not take what I am about to say the wrong way” Emily said in a tone as breezy as the weather. “But you’ve got the build, the vibe. With a few minor wardrobe tweaks, you’d absolutely pass as a crossdresser. Hell, you could even pass as transgender if you wanted. Trust me.”

Engelbrekt stared at her, processing. “I don’t know... I mean, what would that even involve?”

“Glad you asked,” Emily said, leaning forward, her dark eyes sparkling. “We start real small. Feminine jeans then, maybe, a top that’s a bit fitted. We’re not talking miniskirt and crop tops here. Just enough to blur the lines. Discreet enough you even get to see if it feels do-able while not burning bridges.”

He looked unconvinced but didn’t object outright. “You think that could work?”

Emily shrugged and plowed on, her confidence unwavering, “people will buy what you sell. If you walk in like you own it, no one’s going to dare to question you.”

“Just jeans?” Engelbrekt sat back, pondered while sipping his coffee. “I could say my girlfriend asked me to wear hers, like a kinky game.” He was not entirely onboard, but Emily had set the wheels in his mind turning. “And you are thinking I could pull that off?”

“Absolutely,” Emily said ignoring the fact he had missed the point by a country mile. To Emily’s expert eye, Engelbrekt had always been a crossdresser on her day off. 

Even David agreed when she had vocalised her idea over dinner. 

“David says corporate types love a diversity poster child, especially if they’re non-threatening. You’d tick all the boxes without even trying.”

He frowned slightly, “I’d have to think about it… one thing, how did you come up with this idea?”

“Okay, this is not a criticism, in fact, the exact opposite. Take what I am about to say as a compliment. Right?” Emily paused for theatrical purpose “if you had walked in to this café wearing a dress and a little makeup I doubt anyone would have given you a second look.” She explained, like an architect planning a renovation, she was qualified to see through his male clothes right through to Engelbrekt’s inner crossdresser.

“I’m not saying no just yet, I need to think this through.”

“Of course,” Emily said, her tone light but supportive. “And, when you decide, I’ll be ready to help with clothes, confidence, coaching…”

“The three Cs” Engelbrekt laughed softly, shaking his head. “This is not the conversation I expected over coffee.”

Emily grinned. “When you hang with me, expect the unexpected.” The conversation shifted to lighter topics, Emily knew the seed had been correctly planted. Whether or not the seed germinated was up to him.

***

Emily: So, Engelbrekt. You’ve thought about my brilliant suggestion? 🌟

Engelbrekt: Actually, yeah. I’ve been mulling it over. Want to grab lunch and chat?

Emily: Lunch is cute, but here’s the thing: shopping is cuter. 🛍 Jeans first. You in?

Engelbrekt: Nervous, mad, but I’m in. Just jeans, right?

Emily had a brainwave, it would test Engelbrekt’s commitment to the limit, her fingers flashed across the screen;

Emily: Of course! 😉 Baby steps, promise. Oh, by the way, how attached are you to being “Engelbrekt”?

Engelbrekt: Uh… not very I guess. Why?

Emily: Perfect. Maybe consider something a little... genderless? Like Ashley or Zander. Just a thought.

Engelbrekt: I’ll think about it. Let’s talk more when we meet up.

Emily: Love it. Bring an open mind and a sense of adventure. See you then! 🎉

***

Engelbrekt had thought of little else since the café. Emily’s seed had not only germinated but now had roots and leaves. True to form, he approached the project as he did work: failing to plan is planing to fail. He anonymously haunted online forums, skimmed articles on workplace culture, combed through the company's corporate site scrutinising every diversity initiative and HR policy.

What he found both frightened and excited him - he searched every imaginable variation of crossdress in every staff WhatsApp group and got a big fat zero. If he could pull this off, he would indeed be a minority of one. 

Unlayoffable! 

Unsackable! 

Even head office staff guidelines had no mention of employees who fit the mould Emily suggested. He could do feminine jeans no problem, and Emily said that would be enough. 

Engelbrekt thought over the name change idea. It would be a soft, innocent, ‘look at me’ - follow that with women’s jeans - more than enough to complete  the job.

***

By the time the train pulled into Ashminster Central station they were ready for a pre-shopping coffee. The coffee shop buzzed softly with the sounds of milk frothing and quiet conversation, Emily settled into a seat near the window. 

“So, are you ready,” Emily said stirring her latte “we start today?”  

Engelbrekt took a sip of his short black before setting it down carefully. “I’ll sort the name change with HR first then a few days later wear women’s jeans. Call me Sam.” 

Emily’s face lit up immediately. “Sam! Good choice! Sam, short for Samuel and Samantha. I love it!” She grinned, testing it out. “Alright, Samuel Spink, let’s…”  

“Sam Spink, not Samuel. Just Sam.” 

Emily raised her hands in a theatrical mock surrender. “Got it, Sam Spink.”  

Sam nodded, revealed his thinking - Sam was neutral enough for things like drivers license to work whatever he was wearing, sipping his coffee again he continued “I figured I might ask David to take care of changing my given name.”  

Emily thought must be some job Sam has. She recalled how receptive he had been since day zero, had taken her every suggestion on board as if he were the one who had come up with the scheme. 

A part of Emily wanted to hit the brakes, admit the name change suggestion had been no more than a tease. But Emily’s wild side overruled. Wild-side Emily wanted to see what happens next and decided to put the pedal to the metal. 

“I am sure David will be happy to take care of that for you” Emily said, standing up and motioning toward the mall entrance. “No dresses today… unless you insist.”   

Nearing Elysium - a trendy boutique - Sam suddenly stopped in his tracks, his bravado gone. He stared at the storefront with its on trend gold lettering and mannequins displaying female finery. 

“Emily,” Sam kept his voice low. “This is a women’s boutique.”

Emily turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Correct. And?”

He gestured vaguely at the display. “Well, we are different sizes, they’ll know the jeans are for me.”

A sly smile spread across Emily’s face. “In that case, trying them on won’t be a problem, will it?”

Sam would never even see the store again let alone the sales staff. Never returning to Ashminster seemed a good idea when he took a breath, “it will not.”

“That’s the spirit!” Emily said, giving him a playful nudge of encouragement. “Come on, those jeans aren’t going to pick themselves.” 

Emily flipped casually through rack after rack, asking Sam’s opinion from time to time. Having gotten Sam’s feedback on everything, from Zorb dresses to Anoraks Emily finally started shopping for what they had come for.  

Emily zeroed in on a pair of high-waist, straight-leg jeans and played the game David always lost at - start with the most expensive jeans in the shop, let David talk her down to a mid range pair that still cost way more than David intended spending. 

Emily picked up a £350 pair of jeans, held them up to Sam to judge his size. “Size ten, try these first, take these twelves, just in case.” Emily highlighted the relevant features - high waist, straight cut, slip pockets front, patch pockets back.  

Sam took the jeans skeptically, turning them over in his hands. “They don’t look any different from the jeans I’m already wearing.” 

Emily smirked. “Trust me. They’re different. Go try them on.”  

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the fitting room, tugging the waistband slightly to adjust the fit. He did a slow 360-degree while wearing an unreadable expression. 

“Perfect” Emily’s grin widened as she took in how the jeans hugged his hips just-right. The higher waist screamed women’s and subtly altered his silhouette. If female coworkers missed all that, and they would not, the telltale front pockets and tiny flower in the stitching to one back pocket would put stop to any such careless unnoticing.   

“You like them?” Emily said with a satisfied look. She didn’t bother to mention the faux Levi style label to the waistband with the tiny writing below the logo that read ‘size 10’ 

Sam turned to glance at the mirror again, “they are comfortable,” he said in a tone intended to conceal how much he liked the way the jeans felt snug, not baggy like mens jeans. 

"You might want to rethink your underwear choice. Under any jeans bunched up boxers are not the most flattering look. Under those jeans… ugh!”

When he ducked back into the fitting room to change into his old jeans, the sales assistant approached Emily. “You know those are women’s jeans, right?”  

Emily nodded,  smiled “we know.” 

The sales assistant had Saturday Girl beside her at the till and did that annoying thing sales assistants do to men buying women clothes. She carefully looked at tag and then at Engelbrekt “these are size 10, is that the correct size Sir?”

Out the corner of his eye he saw Emily smiling and decided to play the assistant at her own game, “my girlfriend and I are identical size, I tried the jeans on, so yes”

“Will there be anything else today?” The sales assistant asked.

“Sneakers to go with the jeans” Emily answered for him.

“Put these under the counter for…”  the sales assistant handed the jeans to Saturday Girl “Sir, when I say ‘put these under the counter for’ that’s where you could say your name”

“Sam.” he felt unsettled.

“My name is Leonie by the way.”

Sam felt relaxed and in a in a playful mood “sneaker-me-up Miss Bytheway.” Saturday Girl snorted, walked away laughing. Leonie chuckled softly.

Slipping into the third pair of sneakers Sam noticed Leonie. He liked the way her softly curled red hair needed to be swept back every time she leant forward. He liked the way she smiled when she caught him looking down her dress. He liked the way she leant forward a little more as if encouraging him. 

 

Leonie went to the stock room, returned with one box “I’m not supposed to sell these until next week” She smiled and leant forward to lace them up. Somehow the dress seemed to reveal even more cleavage. 

“Your girlfriend will love these” Leonie’s smile widened. Sam took a few steps in the £500 sneakers. Leonie’s smile widened some more - crossdressers were so easily manipulated.

***

“Seriously Sam, you cannot wear boxers with your new jeans” Emily had led them into a department store and they were in the lingerie section before Sam realised. “Bikini style is a good choice for girls like us” Emily said. When Sam held his shopping bags in front of him Emily knew why and backed off teasing. “Three pairs should be enough for now” she said quietly, head toward the cashier. Sam veered off, waited outside the store. 

Emily took pity on him “need a break from shopping?”

“I need a coffee.”

They found a quiet table in the café, one where they could talk freely. “I had the same reaction in the early days” Emily said softly and explained how, sometimes, wearing certain clothes can be arousing at first. “You need to practice at home Sam until panties feel as mundane as putting on boxers.”

“Just seeing you buy those panties, and knowing they were for me, freaked me out.”

“I noticed, even I still need to desensitise sometimes” Emily giggled softly “seriously, put your new things on and take care of business at every spare moment until there is no business to take care of.” 

***

Emily gave David a blow by blow account of the shopping trip over dinner, David asked if Emily thought Engelbrekt would go through with the final step - wearing the clothes. “Well he spent close on a thousand - never looking at prices.”

“Why are you so keen on this?” David kept his tone light.

“My Sam Project?” 

They both chuckled at the naming then Emily got serious “it has been a struggle for me, love. I’ve lost count of how many surgeries have I had. And people still double take sometimes.”

“I know its hard” 

“This is my chance to see someone starting from a whole different place. He stepped out of the changing room wearing the jeans David, and looked fifteen-sixteenths crossdressed. I’m a little ashamed to admit I felt jealous. I imagined myself as Sam, imagined how being so effortlessly passable would feel.”

“He will be crossdressing just for work?”

“Mmm, only for work. Sam is not intending to tell Adrian.”

“Might be a bit late for that” David said he’d had a beer with Adrian and Matthew on the way home.

3 - Sam

Final tasks as Engelbrekt were to book a days leave and a ten o’clock appointment with David.

David welcomed Engelbrekt, “Emily said you two had fun the other day” and asked his secretary to bring them some tea. “Be careful taking Emily shopping, she has a masters in spending other peoples money” he joked before getting down to business. 

“I’m thinking of the clothes as business expenses” Sam smiled “investments in retaining my job.” Drinking tea took longer than changing his name - the form merely required signatures and Davids seal.

“I’m officially Sam Spink?”

“From this very second” David confirmed with a smile while passing a list of who should be notified. 

Rather than waste the day, freshly minted Sam Spink, took his deed poll to his bank, tax office, driver bureau and all the other places on the list. He took the train to Ashminster Central, a taxi to International Commodities head office. 

“Finally I get to meet one of the stars of Blackwood Hill office. Mona Montague, Human Resources” She held her hand out and nodded toward a chair. His file sat on her desk, “would it be intrusive if I were to ask why?” 

Sam explained the drawbacks to a Swedish given name “Sam has been my café name for years”

Mona looked confused.

“You know when the barista wants to write your name on the takeaway cup - Sam is easier to hear than Engelbrekt.”

After a short, polite, bout of smalltalk Mona Montague stood “Okay, here’s what will happen Sam - I send this over to payroll and notify Blackwood Hill.”

Sam spent the afternoon window shopping, imagining how it might feel to actually go in and purchase something when he walked past a lingerie shop - that triggered a chain of events ending with him dashing to a restroom to ‘take care of business’ 

Wearing panties beneath his suit had been big step, and he had managed five and a half wank-free hours. A part of Sam wanted to ask Emily how long desensitising might take. And a part of Sam wanted to sweep it under the carpet. The wanking part, not the spunk, that is. Sam avoided further window shopping and made his way to the train station. 

Sam Spink, the nameplate on his booth declared. Unsurprisingly Elara, office gossip, next booth but one was the first to use his new name. “Coffee, Sam?” She said as she handed him the mug and perched herself on his desk.

“Thanks Elara.” Sam decided to make it easier for her “being back at work is a refreshing change after a day in Ashminster.”

“Isn’t that where head office is?”

Sam passed the day off as a part of name change. 

“On your day off, this Montague woman  from HR called Big Boss and he called us all into the meeting room.” Elara’s run through of the 10 minute meeting took up a full twenty-five minutes. She leant in and whispered “we are not allowed to mention your old name.”

“Oh,” Sam smiled “I think Mona was just doing her job, dead naming someone is considered a little unkind.”

“Mona is it, how well do you know her Sam?”

“As a coworker, I only met her for five minutes.”

***

Nepotism was frowned upon within International Commodities, not a strict no-no but best kept secret. When Mona was hired it was on her merits alone, but colleagues would never see it that way. To maintain discretion Company chairman Bertie Boufour and niece Mona Montague communicated only via disposable cell. When Mona explained what is meant by burner phone Bertie was delighted she had introduced some degree of excitement into his dull corporate life. She did not disappoint. Back in the day, playing dolls as a child, Mona often had elaborate schemes of her own. Being let loose in HR gave Mona the chance to scheme on a far grander scale.

And, like back in the day, Bertie kept a distant watch over Mona to make sure she was safe but, mostly, left her to her own devices - in the way a caring adult would let a small child play in the kitchen saucepan cupboard while ensuring knives were out of reach.

***

Emily and David invited Sam over to what David jokingly called a ‘coming out party” which was a film, pizza and beer night. A couple of days had passed, the name change had gone over surprisingly smoothly at work. 

Emily, of course, wasn’t content to let things stall. “All right, Sam,” she said between pizza slices “Name change, check. Time to up the stakes. Let’s start working those new clothes into your office wardrobe.”

“I was thinking the same.” Sam replied.

“Ready for phase two,” Emily said, leaning forward. “But baby steps. We’re not throwing you into full femme mode. Keep it low-key. Either the jeans with one of your regular T-shirts, or all your usual guy clothes and just the sneakers. Once or twice a week to start. Let them acclimatise.”

David said “that… makes sense Emily. I guess if no one made a fuss about your name change Sam then clothes might go unnoticed too.”

“Unvocalised, not unnoticed, like when a woman has lipstick on her teeth. We most certainly do not want Sam unnoticed” Emily corrected with a triumphant grin. “Subtlety is our best friend right now.”

Sam liked the way Emily used ‘we/our’ rather than ‘you’ - it felt like he was not doing this alone. And having legal-eagle David on team Sam added to Sam’s confidence. The following week, Sam wore the jeans on casual Friday. Paired them with a familiar Hitsujibungaku band tee, “I blended in so well I think coworkers failed to notice” Sam told Emily. Sneakers made an appearance Wednesday, and again, the office remained in ignorance - or so Sam thought.

Elara, office gossip, had noticed everything. 

Sam remained oblivious to sidelong glances and hushed whispers around the coffee machine. 

That all changed the day Dorothy walked into the office wearing an identical  pair of jeans - same day as Sam.

Sam walked into the canteen. Dorothy smiled warmly, patting the open seat next to her “Hey, Sam! Come join us.”

He hesitated but took the seat, balancing his lunch tray carefully.

“So,” Dorothy began, her tone light but inquisitive, “I couldn’t help but notice we are twinning today.” She gestured to their jeans. “Where’d you get yours?”

Sam blinked, caught off guard, he recovered quickly. “Oh, uh, at Elysium Boutique, it’s in the city”

Dorothy’s face lit up. “No way! That’s where I got mine too. Do we have great taste, or what, Sam.”

There was a brief, friendly laugh around the table, but the atmosphere shifted slightly, Elara leaned forward, “I didn’t think Elysium carried men’s clothes.”

Sam hesitated, feeling the heat creep into his face. Before he could answer, Dorothy spoke on his behalf. “They carry unisex Elara. Elysium’s an amazing place to shop, those jeans look great on you, Sam.” 

Sam managed a small smile. 

The table seemed content to drop jeans-talk. Elara cut short her lunch break. Telephone lines between Blackwood Hill and Ashminster soon began glowing red. 

4 - Friday

Mona Montague’s iPhone buzzed for the third time during the drive from head office to Blackwood Hill. Rumours had been filtering back to her for a while about Sam Spink. While HR was usually the last to know Mona’s roommate was a head office version of Elara.

Mona was about to see what all the fuss was about for herself. 

Siri read out the message, “Carlito’s Bistro said table booking for 13:00 confirmed.” 

“Siri call Sam Spink mobile.” Mona said. If rumours were true, Mona knew she would be talking to Sam frequently enough to have him on speed dial. “Sam, Mona Montague, I want you to meet me at Carlito’s Bistro at one.”

Sam swallowed loudly “Today? Like in twenty minutes Miss Montague?”

“Call me Mona, see you in twenty… and keep lunch between us right?”

Careful to avoid Elara Sam slipped out. He was cursing his impatience - why hadn’t he stuck to the plan? Emily warned baby steps more than once. He had worn all his new clothes that morning with the intention of calling into the library on his way home - show Emily he could wear sock-less sneakers and jeans, say ‘look I have done it!’

Sam would tell Emily that much, but not the rest of it.

***

‘The rest of it’ started a few days ago. Sam was passing time in one of the crossdresser chatrooms, Fifi3873 - Sam always laughed at that user name. Laughed at the idea there could be at least another 3,872 Fifis.

Anyway Fifi3873 posted a picture of himself all femmed up wearing a miniskirt and heels. 

Sam thought about how he might look in that sort of stuff. Before Sam  finished thinking he had nextdayed miniskirt, pantyhose and heels. 

Nextday-Sam stood before the mirror, his reflection transformed - perched atop heels his freshly shaved legs encased in sheer pantyhose disappeared into a panty grazer of a miniskirt. He typed his username sam:antha, posted some headless pictures. Fifi3873 eat your heart out!

Jeans and sneakers suddenly felt impossibly dull, as if they'd never been enough. Emily never warned how addictive crossdressing could be - but then again, she didn’t know about his tendency to obsess over new hobbies. 

Sam wasn’t worried. His “forgotten hobbies” closet - packed with dusty yoga mats, neglected art supplies, photography kit, and part completed models provided all the proof needed. 

Crossdressing, like all hobbies, would pass.

***

Like a madman he talked to himself as he walked to the bistro “that fucking blabbermouth Elara, she must have told someone at head office - now Mona has summoned me.” He neared the bistro, his diatribe moved inside his head. His recklessness had backfired like a Harley in need of ignition re-timing. 

Mona would hand him his dismissal letter, tell him not to return to the office - some things he just knew! 

He glanced around the carpark, Mona stood beside her car, waved, smiled, and waited for him to come to her. Sam extended a hand, Mona ignored it and went for a work appropriate - blink and you miss it - hug followed by a one cheek air kiss. 

“This is a no phones lunch Sam” She held her hand out. Putting his iPhone in the door pocket she locked the car and began talking as they walked “I wanted us to meet outside of a work environment. Our lunch is unofficial Sam” 

Mona explained an opening had arisen in Henry Hunter’s team at head office, she wanted to sound Sam out before the post was advertised “your performance has not gone unnoticed.”

Sam thanked her for considering him, wondered if  ‘performance’ related to his target busting month or his clothes.

“And rumours about this” Mona waved a hand toward him, head to toe. 

Sam understood ‘performance’ could mean both.

“There are small minded people in Blackwood Hill who could cause problems for you and International Commodities. Let me share my thoughts, Sam." Mona sipped her sparkling water, her gaze steady. "I am thinking a move to head office would be a chance to start fresh, people will know only the Sam who arrives in the office. How does that sit with you?”

“Moving to the city is a big step, Mona. But the step from Engelbrekt to Sam was big, and I survived. Can I think it over?”

“Of course, Sam. No one is going to pressure you.” Mona smiled warmly. “While you’re thinking about it, though, also consider head office dress code. Male staff are expected to wear business suits, and female staff wear skirts or dresses - except on Fridays, which are casual.”

“And which…” Sam began to ask a question. 

“No right answer, no wrong answer, your decision. Either way you will have support from HR and from higher up.” Mona handed the waiter her company credit card "once you choose, swapping back and forth would be… well, lets just say, best avoided.”

Mona threaded the car through the busy streets with the confidence of a seamstress threading a number eight needle all while maintaining businesslike balance between small talk and silence. At the office parking lot, Mona pulled into a space near the entrance. Sam thanked her for lunch and stepped out. During the silence parts of the journey he had been thinking of the dress code and his miniskirt.

Putting off the decision would only result in sleepless nights, Sam leaned back into the doorway “I would like to transfer to head office Mona, is there a dress code - colour, skirt length, that sort of thing?”

“I’ll email it over.”

***

Elara switched into self-appointed detective mode as she stood smoking around the side of the building. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted Sam exiting Mona’s car. A sly grin spread across her face, she took a final pull on her cigarette. Her mind raced as she slipped back into the building. An odour of cigarettes announced her arrival in the break room, her favourite audience was gathered - Debbie from accounting and Greg from IT.

“You won’t believe what I just saw,” Elara began, her voice dripping with theatrical suspense. “Our very own Sam getting dropped off by none other than Mona Montague from HR. And let me tell you, they didn’t look like they were discussing fashion.”

Debbie raised an eyebrow, half-interested, while Greg set down his coffee, already entertained.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a lift?” Debbie says, ever the voice of reason.

Elara scoffed. “HR do not drive all the way from head office to give rides to random employees. And did you see how Sam was dressed this morning? Crossdressed or what! Trust me, something big is occurring.”

Debbie almost ran to her office to update her friend in accounts at Ashminster “remember what I said about the crossdresser… well he was all dressed up for lunch with someone from HR…”

***

Mona sat at her desk, her polished nails tapped rhythmically against her keyboards palm rest. Her thoughts strayed from her screen to Sam. Mona pulled her burner phone out, speed dialled Uncle Bertie. “I need someone transferred from Blackwood Hill.”

Bertie smiled, wondered what she was up to now “do I need to know more?”

“Trust me uncle, this will be good for the company.”

5 - Emily and David

Sam hurried to the library, the visit perfectly timed to arrive just minutes before closing. The air smelled faintly of old paper and disinfectant, Iris, the assistant librarian gave him a pointed look as he approached. Emily was working the checkout desk.

“What happened to baby steps?” Emily asked, eyebrows raised. Her voice was half-teasing, but the surprise in her tone was clear. 

“Well… this morning I opened my closet saw all this outfit hanging there, tried it on and, well, here I am.”

Before Sam could reveal more, Emily shook her head and smiled. “No… don’t say another word. Come to supper, David will want to hear this.”

David listened attentively as Sam recounted his story, nodding occasionally. When Sam got to the part about meeting Mona, David got up quietly, leaving Emily and Sam with their coffee while he began the dishes, although he stayed within earshot.

Emily detected a hint of uncertainty as Sam spoke of head office and moving “you are still sticking with the plan?” Emily asked cautiously.

“I’m not sure, moving to the city and head office is more than we planned. I’m not sure I can do it all - and keep up crossdressing for two years Emily.” 

Part of Sam had been getting cold feet.

Part of Sam wanted to go all in - especially the miniskirt wearing part.

“Relax, Sam, it’s only stage fright” Emily gave his hand a little squeeze of encouragement, said how the only thing off plan was working in head office. Sam listed some positive stuff - city life, more money and such. 

He sounded back on track, Emily reassured him “always remember acting requires little skill - Shirley Temple could do it at the age of four.” Emily said with a smirk. “I’ll ask again… are you sticking with that plan?”

“Uh-huh. Of course you are right Emily, wearing a dress at work will be a big deal for a while, but at home I’ll still be me.” Sam lied, if recent days were anything to go by he would be at home wearing miniskirt and heels while wanking until his balls ached. 

Emily tilted her head, considering his words. “Where will you change, though? At home? What will you tell roommates? Or do you have a Superman-style phone booth transformation in mind?” She grinned to keep the mood light.
Sam laughed. “Being moved to head office might actually work out better than I imagined,” he said. “Once I’m settled at head office, my job is secure. At work I’ll have to stay in character. But if I get a bedsit or a one bed apartment, I’ll avoid roommate issues entirely. Nine to five wearing a dress, save up for two years, I’ll be financially set. Then back to Engelbrekt… and back to Blackwood Hill.”

David made fresh coffee, re-entered the conversation “I always thought office workers were poorly paid.”

“well… I tell people I work in an office, and that is enough for most people. Actually my job title is ‘trader’ ” Sam felt more uncomfortable saying that than he had leaving home that morning wearing the clothes.

Emily had a lightbulb moment “which is why you did not need to look at the price tags in Elysium Boutique.”

Sam nodded “I’m not into cars and champagne Emily, I’m a saver. Soon enough artificial intelligence will do my job…”

“Now everything makes sense.” Dave cut in “make hay while the sun shines.”

“Exactly, make hay whatever the cost. This is my once in a lifetime moment” Sam shrugged “and when AI takes over all I will have are useless skills and a minimum wage future.”

That night Sam let out a quiet yea! The apartment was in darkness, Adrian was spending the night at Matthew’s apartment. Sam quickly changed, pantyhose, miniskirt, stepped into his heels and checked the mirror. These were the best nights, nights when he could strut around the apartment to his hearts content. 

Adrian, Emily, and everyone knew about the jeans. 

No-one needed to know about the miniskirt and stuff. 

Sam told himself this was only desensitising as he masturbated. Once desensitised he would stop.

Mona called next day, “your transfer will come through normal channels, meanwhile not a word to anyone.” 

***

Emily offered to take Sam shopping, “Tell me one more time - you are one hundred percent certain about this?” 

“Totally, no second thoughts” Sam smiled “my transfer will come through any day now.”

Emily used their time on the train from Blackwood Hill to Ashminster to point out drawbacks “I remember from when I lived in Ashminster being trans in the city can be dangerous.” Emily noticed he had taken a small notebook from his pocket and was making notes.

Sam picked up on Emily saying trans, “you say crossdresser one minute and transvestite the next as if they mean the same thing. Or do they?” 

“Well spotted, make a note of this…” Emily said patronisingly “I think of a crossdressing as a hobby whereas what you are doing is more than that.”

“You sound like a teacher.” Sam sniggered “I guess that makes me the transvestite’s apprentice.”

“You are such a prick at times, I should be angry with you Samuel.” Emily gave his hand a little squeeze “somehow you managed to make calling me a transvestite sound almost inoffensive.” Emily loved his innocence, a few days earlier she never imagined Sam would be such a willing and able pupil. She would tell David everything during pillow talk.

Sam apologised, promised never to T-word Emily again.

“Trans or transgender is more acceptable, make a note of that.” Emily got back on track, explaining how night-time and, especially, pubs and clubs can be dangerous “I used to go to a club called Mirages, I expect it’s long gone after all this time… anyway enough of my reminiscing. Back to you. It is safer to check out places wearing male clothes first.” 

Sam paused writing “What are my tells?”

“Where did you learn that word?”

“It’s a poker phrase but I saw people use it in forums online.” Sam smiled “for people like me.” He giggled “who occupy the twilight between crossdressing and transgender.” 

Emily listed all his good points - thick and lustrous hair, natural blonde, slim, soft natured and so on.” Next she began on the negatives “lack of confidence in public, no experience of heels, lack of breasts but falsies will sort that…”

Sam interrupted “I’m thinking of chondrolaryngoplasty.”

Emily just stared at Sam.

“That is a tracheal shave or adams…”

“I know what chondrolaryngoplasty is Sam.” Emily threw her head back and swallowed “Why are you even considering that?” 

“Time to come clean” Sam revealed the extent of his researching online, “for any passable crossdresser his Adams apple is number one tell. I’m thinking of addressing that problem, it’s that or two years of hiding, head down.”

“I guess I can cross that part off of my warning list”

“Emily, are you angry?”

“Of course not sweetie.” She leant across and kissed his cheek, “you took me by surprise” she asked what clothes he needed for the office.

Sam flicked back through his little notebook and read out “Grey, navy blue or black knee length or longer skirt, pantyhose, heels, white or light colour top. Plain white cotton blouses, not diaphanous. I added that last part.”

Emily saw him sit a little straighter when she said “already thinking like a woman, I am impressed Sam.” She asked to see the notebook, flipped pages, read through several role plays Sam had written to deal with the how’s and when’s that would surely be a part of meeting new people, he was taking his move to the city seriously. Emily decided to step up her game “you will be the one shopping today, I’ll hover nearby, be your wingwoman.”  

First stop - cosmetics department in a big department store, they browsed together and alone. “I need some help please.” Sam surprised Emily - he sounded different, softer than usual. The sales assistant waited for Sam to continue. “I need everything for work, is that okay Miss?” 

“Call me Hikari, hop up on a stool for me.” Sam was not her first man and, she knew from his expensive jeans, a big sales commission was hers for the taking.  Emily wandered off. 

When they met up in a coffee shop an hour later Emily hardly recognised him. Face now matched clothes. “How did that feel, you know, me leaving you alone without warning.”

“I will need to do it alone sometime” Sam said with false bravado, “honestly, I was terrified, still am.” He held out his shaking hand for proof. 

During lunch, Sam said he wanted to buy some cheaper clothes for the office. Emily wondered just how well paid he really was until Sam said “once I see how coworkers dress I will buy clothes to fit in. Can I ask something really personal?” Emily nodded, Sam said “well… with summer just around the corner won’t rubber tits get all hot-n-sweaty?”

“So they say, never had them myself. Just wear a padded bra Sam.” Emily noticed his eyes on her chest “these are all me thanks to hormones” she said as she hefted them up. “Or are you thinking implants when you get your chondrolaryngoplasty?”

“No way Emily!” Sam smiled “I know they can be taken out but one surgery scares me enough.”

“Have you considered bottom surgery?” Emily straightfacedly teased.

“Noo!” Sam giggled and squeezed his thighs together. “Two years - remember?”

“Sam, I’ve got to ask about your voice.” Emily saw how pleased he looked.

“There is an app, like a language app where you parrot back whatever the app says, but for people who want to change their voice, sound feminine or pick up an accent. I chose sultry receptionist, it is supposed to sound non-threatening” Sam said.

“Sounds more like flirty receptionist to me, I like it!” Emily laughed softly. “Okay, challenge. Stay in character for the rest of the day.”

In the department stores lingerie department Emily browsed, said padded tee shirt bras where what he needed, said “this style is comfortable, want to try one on?”

“Perhaps another day” 

Emily waylaid a passing sales assistant “my friend needs a bra fitting.” 

Sales Assistant eyed Sam’s chest and picked up three tee shirt bras, led him to the changing rooms. “I’m pretty sure of your band size” Sales Assistant said “we’ll try all three, I expect one will be too big, one too small and one just right, like the three bears porridge. Try this one.” Sam waited for Sales Assistant to leave the changing room.  

Sales Assistant took a bra off its hanger “I can’t see through the curtain.” Sam’s few blonde chest hairs and male nipples momentarily threw Sales Assistant, she recovered fast “what size forms do you wear?” She hitched the bra “let me guess, D cup?”

“I don’t have forms, in fact this is the first time I’ve even put a bra on.”

Sales Assistant took pity and hitched the fasteners for Sam, she had judged his size perfectly - one bra too small, one too big, one just perfect. “34 is your band size, remember to get D cup forms when you buy them” 

Sales Assistant said how everyone needs skin, black, white and red bras as a minimum and added yellow to the bunch of tee shirt bras in her hand “next seasons colour.” She looked at Sam - he wasn’t resisting yet - trannies are such a pushover. Sales Assistant smiled “bralettes next for when you want to rock a flat chest look.” Sales Assistant picked up a selection “and you’ll need panties, what do you prefer pantyhose or stockings, both?” 

“Pantyhose, not stockings” Sam finally resisted, well sort of, “I have enough panties, just tan and black pantyhose then I’m all shopped out for today.” 

He texted Emily, they met up for afternoon tea, “I got you a present” she handed him a small then began rummaging through his bags “wow! You have made two sales assistants very happy today.”

“Thanks Emily, just what I needed.”

“What do you think they are?”

“Panties obviously”

Emily pulled a pair from the bag, stretched them out “ not panties, gaffs. Look your man bits go in here.” Emily demonstrated with two fingers as if they were the only two people in the café. 

Pleased with his deep blush she put the gaff back in the bag. “I’m more than a little jealous at how easy totally passable has come to you Sam. But you still need to get used to being outed or made when you least expect it.” Emily chuckled, “aren’t you going to make a note of that in your little notebook?”

Sam thought how he should feel offended by Emily saying he was passable. How many men would take that he wondered.

But, how many men would crossdress for work?

Instead of feeling insulted he felt pleased. Proud even.

Sam said he was all shopped out, felt confident enough to shop for skirts alone. During the train ride home Emily fine tuned Sam in preparation for life as a crossdresser.

“At least I can cross being made while shopping off the list” Sam joked.

“I cannot believe how you are taking everything in your stride Sam.”

“I tell myself they are just clothes and focus on the end result.” Sam lied, something was happening, something off-plan. Sam quickly did an in head review of the day. Getting kitted out with women’s clothes had become fifteen percent exciting and only eighty-five percent scary. 

That was a massive swing from one hundred percent Scary. 

“One final cautionary note for your notebook - with all games there is a point of no return Sam.” Emile smiled, said it again, this time in a Yoda voice.

***

Adrian and Matthew tried not to stare when Sam arrived home with little success. Back on day zero, before Engelbrekt became Sam, David had warned Adrian and Matthew to expect some changes. 

They had seen Sam wearing women’s jeans and sneakers plenty, this was a big step up. The outline of the bralette Sam wore competed with his makeup for attention.

While Sam put his bags of shopping in his room Adrian served up three bowls of spaghetti “big shop today?" 

“Just some clothes for work.” Sam answered I’m starting to realise what women go through to look cute for us.”

“Not for us” Adrian said with a wave of his fork at Matthew and self.

“Sorry.” Sam blushed “That was rude.”

“All dressed up and nowhere to go?” Adrian said. “We are going to the pub later, come with?”

He had been to their pub in the past and been hit on while wearing male clothes, Sam cringed at the thought of going into a gay bar while crossdressed “thanks for the offer guys I’m shattered after so much retail therapy, another time?”

6 - Chondrolaryngoplasty

Sam booked rest days and a hotel in Ashminster centre. He left Blackwood Hill on the 05:00 train with a clear plan in mind. To refresh that mind he checked his little notebook from time to time.

Taking up position in a coffee shop across from the International Commodities building he watched the staff arriving. Without knowing which women were traders and which were admin staff he achieved little in the way of intelligence gathering - apart from noting twenty-three out of twenty-seven wore sneakers to the office and just four wore heels. 

Even that provided no real information as, in Sams office, most female staff changed into heels at work.

Over morning coffee Sam revised his cheap work clothes shopping plan and headed for Elysium Boutique - shopping alone would be easier where he was already known. Leonie did a little wave and smiled as he neared “Sam, nice to see you again.”

“I need a couple of skirts for work Leonie.” 

When he stepped out of the changing room wearing the grey skirt Leonie nodded approval, declared it stylish, smart.

“This skirt is a little more expensive than I expected.”

“Lined skirts are Sam.” Leonie lowered her voice and smiled “people will notice.” Leonie knew that was all he needed, it was like shooting ducks in a barrel - but not quite as cruel. 

When Sam turned side on to the mirror and looked at her for approval Leonie recognised a vulnerableness in Sam that had not been there when he shopped  with his friend, just then Sam spoke. “You’re right, it hangs just perfectly. I need something in black as well.”

Leonie flicked through the rach, picked out a skirt she was certain would look good on his slim hips “try this on for me Sam.”

The black knee length pencil skirt received the same nod of approval from Leonie. He added two white blouses to the pile. When Leonie asked about heels she realised she rather liked Sam, added him to the favourite customer list inside her head. 

When Sam lied he had never worn heels, Leonie suggested he go for four inch heels to start “like training heels, wear them from breakfast to bedtime at home. Three inch are plenty for office wear and will feel like slopping around the office in house slippers after four inch.”  

Sam, distracted by how gorgeous the Christian Louboutin heels looked, stood and walked back and forth without thinking.  

“You walk very confidently… for a beginner I mean” Leonie chuckled. 

Sam claimed one pair was enough until payday. In truth he wanted reason to shop another day. He spent the remainder of the day viewing small apartments and bedsits.

Sam returned to the hotel and changed into his miniskirt, stepped into his Christian Louboutin, and pranced back and forth. He desperately wanted to go outside, hear the click of heels on pavement for the first time, see his reflection in darkened shop windows. He would have time for that soon enough, meanwhile he would heed Emilie’s warning about strange places.

He checked into the clinic, the consultation with the surgeon was short and to the point - discuss goals and expectations, as well as any potential risks or complications.

The surgery was performed under general anaesthesia, Sam awoke with a barely noticeable, small incision in a natural crease under his chin that the surgeon said would minimise scarring. When the dressing was removed he would be ready for any challenges head office might throw at him.

First couple of days back Sam reverted to baby steps by wearing a white blouse and jeans. Next he added unpadded bralette - undetectable beneath his blouse. Or so he thought - as he sat in his cubicle outlines of the adjusters and fastening across his back were obvious to anyone passing by. Finally he tried out a skirt/white blouse outfit wearing sneakers to work and his first pair of heels in the office. Sam was saving his Christian Louboutin for head office.

When Mona initially said she wanted him to move because of ‘rumours’ Sam had no idea what she meant by that. Now comments were made openly, and within earshot, Sam understood. Female coworkers were not the problem - they either ignored Sam or made the sort of cooing positive comments normally reserved for babies and puppies. Male coworkers closed ranks. They ignored him completely, or called him Samuel, or Engelbrekt when work forced contact. 

At the water cooler he was known as Samantha.

7 - The Move

Sam put in a rental application for a small one bedroom apartment in Ivycross - a few tram stops from the International Commodities building - far enough away that Sam could be Samuel nights and weekends. He kept Engelbrekt-room on for a month to act as a safety net. 

On the Friday morning he called the rental agent “I’m moving in tomorrow, where shall I collect the keys?”

“It seems we have a problem” sounds of papers rustling “your employers have never heard of you.”

Sam called Mona Montague, explained the situation, looked around his Engelbrekt-room, boxes and suitcases everywhere. He told Mona he would commute short term. 

Mona blamed interns in payroll, explained “you are still on Blackwood payroll. I’ll get on it straight away.” The setback could not have worked out better for Mona had she engineered the situation herself. She finished her coffee, took Sam’s employer reference form from her top drawer, fed it into the document shredder, called Sam back.

“Offering to undertake six hours a day commuting proves bringing you to head office is the right decision. But I cannot let you do that.” Mona said she was emailing his manager as they spoke. “Take the afternoon off and come see the empty room in my apartment.” Mona felt jittery inside - like when she was a child and got a sugar rush - but moreso. “I’ll text you the address.” Mona ended the call before Sam could resist.

Sam stood outside Skyline Building, a modern apartment block in the heart of the city, took the elevator to twelve, he usually got a bad feeling about last minute changes. This was no different.

Mona was dressed casual “I took some time off to get my prodigy settled, you go explore while I make coffee.” She wondered if he had been taking elocution lessons, his voice sounded softer - yet nothing like what she thought of as ‘simpering’ Sam spoke with the feminine softness of a… Mona searched her memory, certain she knew someone who spoke like that, she mentally scrolled the address book in her head. 

Receptionist! 

That was it, Sam talked like the receptionist at her dentist - the one who said things like ‘that will be just five-sixty to day’ in a way that made 560 sound fine for a checkup and polish. 

He wandered the apartment, three bedrooms, the empty bedroom bigger than Engelbrekt-room or any room he’d called home “who is your roommate Mona?”

“Katie Kitahara, Katie is a trader in group one, you are in group three - you two will have plenty of gossip to share. Anyway Katie is a bit older than me,” Mona laughed softly to mask her bitchy comment “so… in the apartment you are the baby at twenty-three, me thirty-three, then we move up to Katie who still claims to be thirty-eight.” 

Mona mentioned the rent the last occupant had paid, a figure lower than he had been paying for Engelbrekt-room. “How long is the room available?” Sam asked.

“Well, I am the head tenant, guests can stay seven days without a rental agreement.” Mona was playing Sam like a twenty pound Salmon on ten pound line. It was only a white lie. Mona was landlord, the apartment a graduating gift from Bertie Boufour. Mona took in his every little detail; his makeup, the skirt and blouse looked expensive, the heels could only be Christian Louboutin and uncomfortably tall ones at that.  Sam’s nails looked professionally manicured and finished in a translucent pink so pale Mona needed second look to confirm the existence of polish. On the minus side he still wore his hair in a pony, at least it was a high pony.  

Sam smiled “A week will take the pressure off.”

Time for Mona to reel in that twenty pound salmon. 

“Or you could take the room, I just know you will fit perfectly.” Mona smiled “and no last minute upsets over employer references.” Mona handed Sam a folder “take some time to go over the agreement, if you could let me know within the week.”

Sam picked up a pen “are we both happy for me to sign now?”

To say Mona was happy was an understatement, she stood and tidied the coffee things taking in more details as Sam walked away; she had not noticed his seamed hose and how they highlighted his slim legs, little bumps of adjusters revealed he wore a bra but had made no effort to pad the cups, a fine gold chain on one ankle matched the chain she noticed earlier on his wrist.

Sam-in-the-city was a totally different beast to the almost crossdressed Sam whom Mona had taken to lunch. Mona surmised Sam must have a teacher. At the back of her mind Mona still harboured a nagging feeling she was missing something about Sam, something obvious…

Safely alone, Mona held up the rental agreement, her grin widening as she pumped her fist in triumph, like a striker celebrating a last-minute winning goal. She mouthed a silent, YES!  Mona imagined Katie’s fury when she met Sam, that would make the moment even sweeter.

Sam unpacked his suitcase, work clothes arranged in the closet by outfit, in the corner he hung Engelbrekt-remnants. White shirt, tie, business suit - one of each. Looking at his suit Sam realised the stupidity of what he had done. Blinded by capacious room and small rent he failed to give the plan a seconds thought. Sam had zero opportunity to uncrossdress - even if that was a word - even for a second!

That wasn’t really an issue for Sam - in the early stages of any new hobby there was no such amount as “too much.” The real problem was finding an excuse believable enough for Emily to accept he’d accidentally gone off plan within an hour of arriving in Ashminster.

While Fate Gear sang from his bluetooth speaker Sam called Emily, explained how, without thinking of clothes, he had moved in with two coworkers. “It is not funny Emily” Sam said “I expected you to be a little compassionate.”

“I leave you alone for a few hours…” Emily barely controlled her mirth, explained what had happened to David.

Sam could hear David laughing. “I ask for help and you two laugh…”

“Calm down, I’m thinking…” Emily muted her iPhone and controlled her laughter “Look, you are overreacting, just stay in character for a week or two then move out. End of.”

David spoke “any problems send the rental agreement over.”

Emily took the iPhone back “Problem shared, problem solved. What you wearing?” She chuckled. “Of course you’ll need a nightie…”

***

Mona met Katie in the lounge room, ready to make introductions.

“Katie, this is Sam, our new roommate,” Mona said, her tone casual. Sam extended a polite hand, offering a warm smile “Hi Katie.”

Katie barely glanced at him. She did not need to make the transvestite, the company grapevine sagged under the weight of trans-gossip. Ignoring the gesture, she muttered a flat, “Hi,” before brushing past them both and heading straight to her room. A few minutes later, they heard the shower running.

Mona’s stomach churned. Katie’s avoidance wasn’t subtle, Mona knew exactly what it meant.

Katie emerged from the bathroom, her hair damp and wrapped in a towel, Mona was waiting. Katie stopped, her expression hard. Leaning close, she whispered, venom dripping from her words, “Why did you bring that fucking thing into our home?”

Mona’s jaw tightened, anger flaring hot and fast. She glared at Katie, her voice low but sharp as a blade. “Give Sam a chance, Katie. Get over yourself.” Katie’s nostrils flared, before she could speak Mona continued “look, you need to keep thoughts like that inside Katie, if you say things like that at work… I will not be able to help you.”

“Fine” Katie gave Mona a withering look before turning on her heel and retreating to her room. The door closed with a heavy thud, leaving Mona standing there, her heart pounding with excitement. LGBT hater Katie was suitably pissed and Mona was even more determined to make her Sam Project a success - whatever the cost to Katie.

Mona hovered near the hallway, managed to answer the door before Katie could “Hi Henry, Katie is not quite ready” Mona smiled innocently “come meet your new team member.” Henry looked suitably confused. “I hear you might be loosing a team member soon.”

“Sam Spink, Henry Hunter, Henry is group 3 manager.” Mona smiled “Sam transferred from Blackwood Hill, I’ll send her file over first thing.”

Before they could get any further Katie swept past the lounge room toward the front door “come along Henry.”

Mona brought Sam up to speed “Henry and I were an item a while ago,” mentioned how they hit a rough patch, were on a break when Henry asked if it was okay to date Katie. “I mean we were only on a break! I was so angry I said fine.”

“And now it’s not okay?”

“I do not want him back but, well to be honest…” Mona wondered why he was telling Sam all this when he spoke.

“You do not want Katie to have him either? It’s okay to feel that way Mona.”

“What, are you an agony aunt?” Mona kept her tone soft, avoided reacting  when she finally solved what had caused the nagging feeling she had missed something obvious, or more accurately, something obviously absent - his adams apple.

8 - The Office

Sam was full on stir crazy, he waited home Saturday for the courier to bring the rest of his belongings. Unpacked the room started to feel more like home. Sunday he spent all day pressing and primping clothes ready for work. Like in the Bo Burnham song Sam knew it would be ‘all eyes on me’ Monday.

Sunday afternoon he could take indoors no longer, he put on his new exercise leggings, sports bra, baggy crop top. He contrasted store-fresh clothes with battered runners and slipped out of the apartment unnoticed by Mona and Katie. They were slumped on the sofa, nursing hangovers, watching Netflix. 

Katie paused the film, got up to make black coffees, and handed one to Mona.

“Did you ask Sam?” Mona inquired.

Katie ignored her and restarted the film.

“Don’t be like this,” Mona said, tapping on Sam’s door. “I think Sam’s out.”

“Lucky me,” Katie muttered, stopping the film once again. “You know my feelings about LGBect - people like him.”

“Her,” Mona corrected sharply. “Sam’s pronouns are she/her, Katie. Get with the program. Don’t start throwing around all that he/him shit at work…”

Mona paused, partly to give Katie time to consider the financial consequences and partly to savour the sweet satisfaction of what Mona considered to be a little retribution for boyfriend-stealing.

Katie smiled, wrote a note and slipped it under his door:

be a good girl and never use bathroom between 07:00 and 08:30 Katie xx

***

Henry Hunter waited at reception with Sam’s security pass and walked him to his cubicle. Henry had been getting pushback from the team all weekend and skipped the introductions aside from cubicle neighbour Bruce Brown. Sam saw Bruce had a picture on his desk - a forty-something woman with her arms around two girls wearing some sort of school uniform.

“Bruce will do the intros as and when required.” Henry said and slipped away.

“More like outros.” A random voice a cubicle or three away said followed by soft, stereo, guffaws.

Like all good first mornings Sam’s started with a visit to the coffee machine.

Sam was still working when Mona came into the office. She was looking for a blonde with a high pony, in Sam’s cubicle sat a blonde with a mid-neck length, salon-fresh bob, centre parting, not one flyaway hair. Mona tapped at his partition “How are you settling in?”

Sam paused dialling, stood, “fine thanks Miss Montague.” 

With one exception Sam quickly picked up on the dynamics of Group 3. Bruce Brown was a popular lunch companion of the groups mid-to-top performers, they rotated taking him on extended lunches. 

“I noticed Bruce Brown seems to be a popular guy, Mona.” Sam said casually one evening. 

“This is for your ears only Sam, probably best you don’t get too friendly.” Mona mentioned Bruce was about to get his final warning letter “he has been missing targets a while.”

After a week of trying to understand what his coworkers were up to, Sam  finally possessed the last piece of the puzzle. He understood their scheme in the same way he understood 330 to be the square root of 108,900. 

When Bruce Brown was let-go his lunch buddies would divvy up the spoils - Bruce’s clients. 

***

With roommates out on dates Sam was alone in the apartment second Saturday night. Heeding Emilie’s advice to check out a new area wearing mens clothes he brushed down his suit. After such a short time it already felt strange to be wearing the suit, Sam wondered just how strange it would feel when this was all over - two years down the road. Even Engelbrekt-shoes felt uncomfortable enough for him to consider abandoning the project. 

Local bars and eateries were packed inside and, at tables, outside. Sam felt lonelier than anyone had the right to feel amid three and a half million people. He would have felt safe in his normal clothes… Sam laughed at that thought, when did skirts and heels become normal clothes. 

He continued on a couple more streets away to an area the tourist information website labeled Ashminster’s gay village. 

And the gay village lived up to its reputation - bars packed with leather wearers, bars with jean/plaid shirt women and clubs with drag shows. Taking the scenic route back to his apartment Sam felt ready to give up on the entire project. 

Sam did not fit in the gay village and would never want to. He turned a corner onto Sterling Street where small bistros and cafés mixed in with independent shops, around mid-way he saw a dim lit sign Mirages.

He sent a text:

Sam:   what was that club called you mentioned?

Emily: Mirages?

Sam:    On Sterling Street?

Emily: It is still there?!!!

Sam:   Going in…watch this space.

Sam thought for a moment door staff were about to turn him away. He slipped into his work voice “I’m new to the city and scoping out safe spaces.” Sam smiled, the doorman smiled. He paid the entrance and steeped inside. Soft music welcomed him first, there were couples slow dancing, tables around the dance floor, a bar ran the length of one wall, other singletons perched there on stools. As if that was not welcome enough, a dusting of maids minced back and forth providing table service. 

Sam took one of the few empty bar stools, ordered a soft drink from a glittery hot panted barman.

***

Sam heard music drifting from the lounge, Monas greeting filtered out into the hallway, “I hope your evening’s been more successful…” suddenly, like a yacht caught in katabatic winds, she abruptly changed tack. Her expression darkened, her eyes locked onto him. “What the fuck are you wearing, Sam?”

Her anger hit Sam like a slap. “Go change before Katie sees you,” she snapped.

Feeling the sting of her words, Sam retreated to his room and swapped his outfit for a bathrobe. When he returned, he slipped into character and stood his ground. “It’s easy for you, Mona. People like me need to know an area is safe before we can even think about stepping out.”

Mona sighed, her earlier fury giving way to remorse. “I’m sorry for shouting,” she said, gathering up their iPhones she put them in another room. “But, Sam… you can’t be trans one minute and not the next. It’s not something you can just switch on and off.”

Her tone softened, but her words carried a sharper edge. “The company is under investigation by the Equality and Human Rights Commission. If they even suspect I brought in an actor to ‘play’ transgender, it will cost us both our jobs.”

She paused, leaning closer as if sharing state secrets. “All this is information for your ears only Sam,” she theatrically whispered, swearing him to secrecy again. “As the only trans employee in the company, your job is bulletproof. Zero chance of layoffs - the only way is up.” Mona smiled “and, if all goes to plan, that includes me.”

He should have set Mona straight there and then. Explained he was crossdressing, explained the difference between crossdresser and transgender. Instead the first thing that struck Sam was how work focused Mona was. 

Second thing that struck Sam was how focussed on the two year plan he needed to be. 

Third thing - hardest of all was not doing a little girly scream at learning his two year plan was bulletproof.

***

Second week got off to a good start when Sarah Shackleton nodded and followed that up with “morning Sam” but avoided further contact. Nevertheless that doubled the number of coworkers who had spoken to him. Sam was talking with Bruce when Nancy Newitz came by handing out the weekly performance lists. “The new gal has hit the ground running,” She held out a hand “Nancy, Nancy Newitz.”

Sam waited until Nancy moved away, he ran a finger down the list “up until a few months ago we used to be neck and neck Bruce. What happened?”

Bruce was an easy going guy and had readily accepted Sams offer to work alongside him.

“I hit a rough patch, I am surprised you care, no one else does.”

“You are the only person who talks to me, I can’t afford to loose you” Sam joked. 

Soon enough Bruce was working through lunch, staying back until Sam left the office. 

And soon enough Bruce had his mojo back, his figures tipped over target… and still no-one (Nancy and Sarah aside) had spoken to him.

That all changed when a guy, who Sam did not have a name for, warned him off  at the coffee machine “keep away from Bruce.”

Like a surveillance operative Sam silently followed the stranger to his cubicle “Bruce hitting target spoiling your plans?” They exchanged stares “I spotted the pack of vultures waiting around to pick over a departed traders client list in my first week.”

“What is your fu…” Stranger stopped, swearing would result in a warning, a war of insults with a tranny could easily result in dismissal.

“He is a colleague, we are all Group 3.” Sam drew an air circle of the office and turned on his four inch heel.

***

“I hear you had an encounter recently” Katie had waited until they were eating dinner together. Sam could count on one hand the number of times Katie had spoken a sentence to him that did not begin ‘do’ or ’don’t’ 

Sam chewed his pasta at half-sloth speed.

“An encounter?” Mona said “What does that mean?”

“Sam went for Egbert, called him a vulture” Katie smirked “the whole of Group 3 heard.

“What sparked that outburst Sam?” Mona asked

Sam finally swallowed “he warned me not to work with Bruce, there is only one reason traders say that.”

“Team Bruce and Sam eh?” Mona paused mid fork to mouth “I hear a certain female team member is watching closely.”

Sam shrugged, sniggered “watching silently from a distance more like.” 

“Egbert still beat you this month.” Katie smirked.

“On old business, yes. On new clients and new accounts he is company bottom ten percent. Traders resting on their laurels earn the company zip.” Sam smirked right back. “I am not the only one noticing, Katie.” Inspired by his loaded comment he loaded the dishwasher and headed for the shower.

“Where does he get that from?” Katie asked. 

Mona ate in silence.

“Okay, okay - where does SHE get all that information from?”

“Staff website.” Mona smiled innocently “I am not the only one noticing, Katie - what do you think Sam meant by that?”

“I think you have set a monster loose among us.” Katie banged on the bathroom door “hurry up!”

9 - A night on the Town 

Sam dressed with care, first came a new unpadded bralette, six strap suspender belt and gaff set he bought from Friends of Dorothy - the crossdressers emporium.  Satisfied his seams were straight he fastened five suspenders leaving one back suspender dangling. New dress came next - a bottle green wrap, just above the knee length. Leonie said the dress suited him, a check in the mirror confirmed Leonie had not been lying. Sam liked the way the wrap dress drew attention to his, for now, flat chest while the fullness of the skirt concealed his lack of hips - a perfect look for the evening he had planned. 

Sounds of Katie and Henry Hunter talking filtered into Sam’s room. Sam knew, like every other Friday evening, Mona would have possession of the bathroom and Katie would be applying makeup at the kitchen breakfast bar. 

Sam stepped into new heels and walked into the kitchen “Hi Henry, looking sharp.” 

“Right back at you.” Henry said as he briefly eyed Sam “new dress?”

“Really Henry? Him you notice?” Katie looked daggers at Sam.

“Damn!” Sam reached behind him “a suspender has come adrift, can’t quite reach.” He grasped for the suspender like a day one crossdresser, “Katie can  you…”

Katie took advantage of Monas out of earshottedness “are you fucking joking me?”

“Henry is never mean to me like that,” Sam hitched his skirt enough to reveal escapee-suspender and stocking top “be a sweetie Henry, hitch me up.” Sam stepped back against Henry’s knee, he felt a tug when Henry grasped the suspender.  Sam smirked at Katie.

Katie took a deep breath but before she could speak Sam continued “ooh cold fingers, make sure you get my seam straight Henry.” 

Sam shimmied his dress down, pleased Katie had also noticed Henry tenting out his trousers. Sam walked away smiling, he had only been taking hormones for a week and was already behaving more like a woman. A spiteful woman at times.

“Now fuck off to your street corner” Katie spat.

Sam had made effort after effort with Katie. If he brought coffees home she tipped hers down the sink. If he cooked she would not touch it. The day he cleaned her room she had screamed blue murder. Then there were all the little pet names she used when out of Mona’s hearing; Samuel, it, that thing, ladyboy, worse. Sam did not need Katie to be nice, tolerant would be enough. Sam checked his reflection inside the elevator. 

“Now Katie has reason to hate me” real-world Sam said to flat-world Sam. Both smirked.

Sam had become a creature of habit and headed to the department store for a quick makeover “Hi Hikari, I still cannot get the night look right” Sam said with a sad face “I end up looking werewolf or drag artist, sometimes both.”

Hikari laughed “discreet coming up.”

Sam hailed a taxi. “Sterling Street, please.”

The cabbie stretched his neck, peering into the rearview as if expecting Sam to answer in sign language. “Whereabouts?”

“Mirages.”

Being out-out at night for the first time in the city felt strange. Stepping out of the cab, he felt a nervousness - not scared, more an excited flutter. Inside soft lighting and equally soft music relaxed him a little.

Sam took a barstool, sticking with soft drinks and people-watching. A couple of what he imagined to be “followers” approached, asking for a dance. He declined politely and slipped away to a small corner table with a perfect view from bar to dance floor.

“Mind if I join you?”

Sam glanced up, read her in a heartbeat, which surprised him. To the unaware she was a striking woman, mid-thirties, sharp features, warm smile. Her outfit, a tailored, short suit shimmered slightly reflecting the club’s neon signs.

“Company would be nice,” Sam replied, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

She slid into the seat and extended a hand. “Wilma Wilkinson, club manager. You’re new, right?”

Sam shook her hand. “Yeah freshly minted, Sam, Sam Spink. I moved to the city a short while ago.”

Wilma’s smile widened. “Welcome, Sam, Sam Spink. Mirages is a safe spot for all sorts, but especially for people like me. I’m trans, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

Sam relaxed a little, nodded acknowledgement, the warmth in her tone putting him at ease, he took a sip of his soda. 

Wilma looked Sam over with an intensity of a witness who might be asked to pick out a mugger from a police line up. “So, like I said, I am trans, sometimes people respond with what they are.”

Sam liked Wilma, he smiled “what does your transdar tell you?”

Wilma laughed “Oh no, I’m not even going to hazard a guess. Tell all.”

“I guess crossdresser with a pinch of trans. Work in progress like the signs at roadworks say. I came to Mirages a while ago wearing drabs to scope the club out. Being new in town... I wanted somewhere safe at night.” He smiled “you don’t just kick off Manolo Blahniks and make a run for it” 

“If you are going to kick them off then do it in my direction, they are gorgeous Sam.” 

“I’m not into men, if that’s what you were wondering.” Talking of feet Sam could have kicked himself  “that was rude of me, I am so sorry Wilma.”

Wilma chuckled softly. “Not at all, forthright saves confusion. Plenty of people come for the vibe, not the dating scene. How are you finding the city otherwise?”

Sam shrugged. “Outside work, pretty lonely, honestly. Still trying to figure out where I fit.”

“First big move?”

He nodded. “Feels like starting from scratch.”

Wilma flagged down a passing waitress, one of several dressed in maid outfits. “Can I get you another drink?”

“Sure. Just a soda, thanks.”

Wilma ordered, the waitress click clacked away. Turning back to Sam, Wilma leaned in slightly. “I get it. It’s not easy starting over. But hey, here’s a thought, bar work’s great for meeting people. I’m always looking for staff if you’re interested.”

Sam tilted his head. “I don’t have any experience.”

“That’s not a dealbreaker. Besides,” she said with a wink, “it’s a way to not feel lonely anymore.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the idea a trader would have a part time job. “Let me think about it.”

“Sure, enjoy your evening Sam” Wilma stood “you know where to find me.”

Sam raised his glass in a small, uncool toast. “Thanks, Wilma.”

“Anytime,” she replied.

***

“I guess you finally snapped” Mona looked amused.

“With Katie?” 

Mona nodded “she told me everything when she calmed enough to form words.”

“It’s not all my fault Mona, I was prepared for mood swings when starting hormones, evilness swept over me without warning.”

“You have started hormones?”

“I want my dresses to hang better” he lied.

“I hear that is why most start them.” Mona looked amused “remember that first day we had lunch? Well I have a confession, first promise you won’t be angry.”

“One angry person in the apartment is enough.”

“I thought you had heard rumours, was using women’s clothes to avoid being laid off.”

“What sort of man would do that?” Sam checked the clock, not even eleven but he wanted to be safely in bed before Katie got home. 

His door banging against the wall woke Sam with a start.

“You will pay for what you did” Katie slurred “you fucked up everything, a perfectly good boyfriend.” She steadied herself against the dresser a moment,  “flirting like that right in front of me.” Katie kicked off her shoes and began to undress. “When I see that fucking transvestite next…”

“Katie stop! This is not your room!” Sam said without response, he used his Engelbrekt voice “Katie stop! You are in Sam’s room!”

Alcohol-deaf Katie slipped in beside him muttering obscenities that soon faded into snores. He shook Katie as hard as he dared which resulted in “not tonight Henry, go to sleep.”

Sleep on the sofa, check into a hotel - whatever Sam did he would come out of this as the bad guy. Following a little brainstorming he settled on ‘make matters worse’ At least that way if the truth came out it would seem less bad. As if Katie might awaken at the sound of a drawer Sam quietly opened his bedside and took out his pack of condoms. He ripped one open, threw the wrapper toward Katie’s scattered clothes and put the condom back in the packet. 

Sam turned his back toward Katie, shuffled back into a spoon. The warmth of another body, even a hate filled body, in his bed soon relaxed him into his best nights sleep since when girlfriend was a thing. 

He had been listening to Katie snoring for what felt like hours. Finally Katie stirred, her hand rested on his waist, stopped dead, he felt her head lift from the pillow, heard a gasp of horror.

“What… what’s happening, why are you here Katie?” He said mock-sleepily.

Katie sat up, pulling the duvet over her chest “this is a fucking nightmare.” For a hung over drunk Katie talked loud and moved fast, she snatched up her clothes. Her gaze settled on the condom wrapper. “You cannot tell a soul, promise me Sam, if word got around I slept with a transvestite my life would be over.” 

“What about me Katie? Do you think I would tell anyone a woman older than my mum took advantage of me?” Sam smiled innocently. “You could call a truce…”

10 - Mirages 

Sam arrived home after Mona and Katie, “Americano for Mona, Skinny latte for Katie. I have a call to make. He put the coffees on the counter and went into his room. 

Mona recognised Ibuki singing Farring Bird coming from Sam’s room then voices, he always used music to mask conversations. They sipped their coffees in silence, Mona smiled “thank you for softening towards Sam.”

“Keeping the hate going was getting to be a chore.” Katie sipped her coffee “drinking free coffee does not mean I like her.”

“A week ago you wold have poured that coffee down the drain right in front of her.” Mona chuckled “And you don’t worry Sam might get his own back for all the vitriol you sent her way? How is your skinny latte? Yummy or Cummy?”

Katie spluttered “you are so mean…”

“Joking, just drink your coffee and whiz me around the water coolers of gossip. I know Sam has one friend in his group, how about the others.”

Katie liked gossip better than free coffee, “well that is Bruce of course, Sarah Shackleton and Lisa Lovings have let Sam use their restroom, you know he had to go down to three to use the disabled one right?”

“News to me, go on…”

“Well I think Sarah and Lisa are watching how Bruce Brown has become a rising star, they might be about to discreetly join team Sam, the guys still feel the same as me.”

“Now you go and spoil it all…”

***

Sam ran through his closet, found some washed out, distressed, skinny jeans and white sneakers, he teamed them up with a plain white scoop tee, striped  jacket.

“Sam, are you ready?” Wilma Wilkinson smiled and introduced him to full time bar staff; Michelle Martinez and Doris Demontré.

“Sam is new to town and will be helping out a couple of shifts a week.”

Michelle looked about thirty and said she was full time bar staff, part time crossdresser. Doris was probably thirty something, said she was pre-op. As they worked they eyed Sam up whenever he was looking elsewhere. As they wiped down at the end of the night Sam said “when I first visited there were maids waiting table.”

“If there were servers that would have been a Friday or Saturday you came in.” Michelle said with a smile. 

Doris smiled, “don’t show any interest when Wilma is around, prancing around for six hours in heels is a shit job, no matter how good the tips.”

Sam pressed on “are all the maids are women?” He noticed Wilma lurking in the shadows.

“Yea, GGs’ mostly students” Michelle said “waitressing tables pays more, students always need extra.”

“But is it a rule. Forget heels for a minute, could anyone be a server Michelle?”

“In theory.”

Never one to pass up the chance of filling the most unpopular job at Mirages Wilma stepped into the light “you interested in serving Sam?” 

Sam took to being a server like a… 

Like a crossdresser takes to a maid uniform.

There really is no other way to describe it! 

Some weeks he worked one night, some two, some none. The sudden change from stay home billy-no-mates into a roommate who seemed to be out partying puzzled Katie and Mona. When pressed Sam would simply answer “a club in the gay quarter, I’m not gay but no one judges.”

“Have you noticed how many people say hello to Sam at the mall” Katie said 

“And the strange thing is Sam is never the one to speak first. Am I right?” Mona replied.“I know, weird or what?”

There had been a reset in the apartment since what had become known, in Sam’s head, as ‘The Suspender Incident’ - the reason behind Katie and Henry splitting. 

Since that night it had been more like old times between Mona and Katie. Mona even forgave Henry, they had dinner together a few times. Mona secretly hoped she and Henry might get back together soon. 

Sam also harboured his own secret hope - that another growth spurt would occur sooner rather than later. If Sam looked in the mirror at a certain angle there were hints of breasts inside his bralettes. When he tried his proper bras on he filled them in the same way a pebble fills a bucket. 

That first growth spurt had come on the heels of a bout of hot flushes and disturbed sleep - what good were the wide, sensitive nipples he now had if they were situated on a flat chest. 

What Sam needed was for nipples to move away from ribs.

***

A new couple stepped into Mirages, stood just inside as if someone had pressed their pause buttons. The man spoke first “what the hell is this place?” 

The woman let a nervous laugh escape. “I… I thought it might be fun… or at least interesting” her hand reached for his arm. 

He pulled away, anger flashing in his eyes, “Interesting? You brought me to this fucking freak show!” His voice had risen an unspecified number of decibels, a number sufficient to cause Sam and nearby customers to glance over.

The woman flushed with embarrassment under the weight of so many eyes but held her ground. “Relax, it’s just a club.”

“A club for freaks and perverts” his hand gestured wildly toward one of the waitresses passing by in her short, frilly, maid uniform. Ignoring the scene he was creating maid-waitress openly smiled and winked at the man as she passed by.

Sam, along with ninety-three percent of the clubs patrons, watched as the man turned on his heel and stormed out, door slamming shut behind him. Mystery Woman stood her ground, rooted to the spot, torn between running after him and staying put. Sam approached, heels clicking satisfyingly. 

A long time had passed since Sam used Engelbrekt’s voice - the deep sound even surprised Sam a little “Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” 

Mystery Woman opened her mouth to decline but stopped as, deep inside her brain, ears and eyes argued among themselves over who was right.

Her eyes traveled over the maid uniform, the pristine white half apron, the sheer black stockings, the small, delicate ruffles that adorned the cap sleeves of the uniform. She felt a tug of fascination. The outfit was so meticulously put together, so perfectly feminine - and worn with such quiet confidence by someone who, not long ago, might have been wearing a business suit and tie.

“Yes, thank you” Mystery Woman said, her voice steadier than she expected. “A glass of wine, please.”

Sam nodded, bobbed and click, clickety, clicked away. Mystery Woman chose a small table, for two, from which she a panoramic view of the club. She paced herself, sipping her wine slowly. 

She waited until man-maid from earlier passed by and raised her hand slightly. "Another glass of wine, please… Miss?”

“Sam,"

"Oh, right, Sam," Mystery Woman said, a touch of warmth creeping into her voice. "I'm Cathy."

Sam inclined his head. "Good to meet you, Cathy. Is your friend coming back?"

Cathy hesitated, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to swing open. Finally, she shook her head. "I think not."

Sam returned with two glasses of wine on his tray, he set one down in front of her and slid gracefully into the seat across from her.

"I'm on a break," Sam explained, lifting his own glass. "Figured I'd join you - if you don’t mind."

Cathy arched an eyebrow and smiled faintly “I would like that."

Sam took a small sip, movements as considered as his uniform. "You know everyone, everyone at Mirages I mean, shares similar interests to us. Or at least, they’re curious."

Cathy’s brow furrowed slightly. "interests?"

Sam grinned and tilted their glass toward her in a light toast. "You are still here, that tells me something."

Cathy flushed, torn between denial and curiosity. 

Sam giggled softly. "And," he added, draining his glass and rising to his feet with a flourish, “I can point out all unattached people here Cathy.” He smiled and, pointing at himself, wiggled away like a cat on heat.

11 - The Crushes

Group 3 was beginning to split into us and them, Sarah Shackleton and Lisa Lovings had seen Bruce Brown transform from nearly ex-trader to rising star and they wanted some of that. Sam was no-ones fool, he knew they were all using him and, short term, he was fine with that. 

And Henry Hunter was more than happy to let the trannie help group 3 achieve target for no money.

 

Mona had been in a real fug all week. Henry Hunter, was avoiding her. She arrived home just as Sam was about to leave for Mirages. Mona threw her arms around Sam and helped herself to a long hug. 

Sam felt warm on his neck that could only be tears “what is it”

“I saw that bastard…” Mona sobbed “with her…”

Sam returned her hug a little, happy to breathe in Mona, he slowly learnt that her was some random woman and that bastard was Henry Hunter. While Mona dealt with panda eyes Sam made tea, the packet claimed it to be calming tea. 

As if knowing what was expected Mona gradually calmed.

Sam was unsure if this calming was tea related, nevertheless he gave it the benefit of the doubt. Suitably calmed they sat chatting while Mona scrolled the dating app on her iPhone. 

“You ever use these apps?” Mona asked

“I tried but couldn’t find the tick box for women seeking crossdressers.”

Mona laughed, blew her nose, “I need someone nice like you to date.”

“I am like me.” Thinking that was not awkward enough Sam added three more words, “we could date.”

Mona looked at him, started to laugh, realised he was serious, she hugged him tight “Oh Sam, I had no idea you felt like that”

Sam liked her warm breath on his neck and the way this was headed. “A casual date to see how…”

Mona cut him off “I love you Sam, as a friend, I am sorry if I mislead you.”

“Duh, I was joking” Sam said in an attempt not to look like the dating equivalent of an ambulance chaser “at least you are laughing.”

That night, as she lay awake in her wrong-done-by-bed, Mona decided two things.

1. Henry Hunter would pay for fucking her over twice.
2. She would do something nice for Sam.

***

Sam’s mind wandered back to that night in Mirages - as it often did. He slowly stroked his cock and swayed back and forth so that his hypersensitive nipples brushed against the duvet, imagined what might have been if Cathy had not slipped out of Mirages before he’d had time to get her number. 

He was hard enough and sensations from his chest were kicking in. He pushed the duvet back, his hands moved to his chest, he massaged his small breasts, thumbs gently teasing erect nipples. 

Hormones had changed Sam’s orgasams. 

Now Os’ signalled their approach real slow, as slow as a tired hiker nearing the peak of a Munro. Sweat started in the small of his back, the tightness at the back of his throat came next closely followed by a warmness deep in his abdomen. His stomach muscles tightened, well spaced ejaculations came slow and hard. His breathing stopped, there would be time for that later, sweat trickled down the small valley between budding breasts. Sam’s hands moved down, he could stroke his cock to a final crescendo. Experience had taught him to resist. Experience had taught him to use the heels of his hands to press down on his pelvis and let his body finish what it had started. 

He gulped in a lungful of air, enough air that little escaped in a soft moan. His thighs clamped together, one final spurt and tears streamed down his cheeks. Before he lost the ability to move he pushed his face into the pillow to muffle the “fuck, fuck, fuck me, oh yes, fuck, fu…” and so on. 

***

Human Resources were in a lull. Mona had zero schemes to exercise her scheming mind. Sounds of the post cart rattling down the hall made her sit up, Post Boy tossed a bundle of envelopes on her desk. 

Mona smiled and took the burner phone from her purse, she made small talk with Bertie Boufour. Mona was in her uncles good books in several ways  especially for getting the minorities doo-gooders off his back. Bertie spoke of group 3 in general and Sam in particular “It is more cost effective to put a trader back on course, well done all round Mona.”

“That is partly the reason I called.” Mona revealed the contents of the letter that sat on her desk. “The team leader on sick leave at Blackwood Hill is not coming back any time soon.” They chatted a while about missed targets, Mona smirked “Henry Hunter is a good choice for a stop gap replacement.”

“That leaves Group 3…” 

Mona could almost hear Berties cogs grinding.

“Let me guess. You thinking of Sam Spink?” Bertie said.

Mona had heard that people in a telephone conversation could sense facial expressions. She smiled “I wasn’t. I am now! Like you said, Sam Spink is pulling Team 3 up from the bottom. And making Sam temporary leader will stick it to the minorities doo-gooders.  Brilliant idea uncle.”

Mona mentally crossed item one and item two off her to-do list and slipped the burner phone back in her purse.

Bertie Boufour was no fool, he saw Mona’s suggestions for what they were - revenge. The way Hunter had treated his favourite niece had reached the top floor long before her call. Bertie was impressed Mona had formulated such a wicked  plan almost before he, himself, had. 

Bertie acted swiftly, summoned General Manager. “To sum up Henry Hunter goes to Blackwood, Sam Spink stands in as temporary team leader.”

General Manager acted with equal undelayedness. While he was in no position to say so to General Manager, Henry Hunter knew Mona was behind the change. He put up a good fight until General pointed skyward ‘there are zero options Henry.”

12 - Promotion

Sam arrived home with pre-chilled champagne, Mona feigned unknowingness, badgered him to tell her what could possibly warrant a mid-week bottle of Cristal. 

Sam insisted they wait for Katie and celebrate together. 

“You are so thoughtful” Mona had started seeing Sam a little differently recently, wondered if she had been a little hasty in rejecting him. 

Cork popping jolted Mona back into the moment, they raised glasses to celebrate Sam’s temporary posting.

Mona smiled, her own secret celebration piggybacking Sam’s. Bertie had agreed to her idea without mention Blackwood Hill had just months to run on it’s lease. International Commodities had already declined the offer to renew. 

***

Ashminster, a sprawling city of several million people, had a feature that Sam loved. The city centre, where he lived, was a ten minute city. He could walk everywhere in ten minutes:

The Park

International Commodities 

Elysium Boutique

The Gay Village

Mirages

27 Coffee Shops 

2 Malls

3 Department Stores

7 Supermarkets

4 Delicatessens

13 Restaurants

***

On his way to Elysium Boutique Sam met Bruce Brown, he never socialised with coworkers. Or, to be brutally accurate, coworkers never socialised with Sam.

Are you busy?” Bruce asked, testing the waters. “My daughter works at a coffee shop down the street. She’s been pestering me to meet you.”

As they walked, Bruce chatted on. “Beryl just started working here, she is only seventeen and bubbling over with first job enthusiasm. When you first joined Group 3, Sam, I used to come home and tell the family all about the new team member. We were going through some rough times, home and work, back then, and it became a bit of a routine.”

They stepped into the café, and Bruce gestured toward the counter. “Beryl, this is Sam.”

“DAD!” Beryl exclaimed, springing out from behind the counter with the grace of an over-caffeinated gazelle. She delivered a hug so intense it seemed Sam might never escape. “How could you say those horrid things?”

Sam stood frozen as Beryl pulled back, scanning him up and down with wide eyes. “I was expecting someone, like, fat and middle-aged, would you believe Dad literally described you like that” she announced with the unfiltered babble only a teenager could get away with. “You’re, like, wow, NOTHING like Dad described. Like, not even close!”

“Sorry, Sam.” Bruce turned crimson, visibly shrinking under her careless words. “Beryl!” he spluttered. “Beryl, you are to let your mother continue thinking Sam is exactly how I described her… is that clear”

“Sure, clear as crystal Dad” Beryl continued, her attention glued to Sam. “Seriously, Dad made you sound like some, I dunno, person who wears socks with sandals or something.”

Senior barista, Wendy Watson, discreetly watched while serving. 

Beryl’s fawning over Sam quieted for a moment, Wendy saw her chance. With the practiced grace of someone used to taking sweets from a child, she slid a loyalty card and a pen toward Sam. “Here you go,” she said, her tone casual enough to draw Sam’s attention. “For your next coffee. You know, if you ever need a quiet spot to unwind, The Bean Scene is usually pretty calm in the evenings.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dipping conspiratorially. “Or…”

Sam looked up, caught in the pause Wendy left hanging like a netted fish.

“…if you’d like the inside scoop on when our best roast comes in, I could always send you a message,” her eyes narrowed as she tapped the card with a manicured nail.

Sam blinked, clearly taken off guard. “Oh, uh - thanks,” he mumbled, reaching for the card.

Wendy’s smile widened, playful but confident. “Just fill in your number right here,” she said, her tone breezy, her intent unmistakable. She tapped a finger on the blank line marked Contact Number and held his gaze precisely one beat too long.

Caught between politeness and confusion, Sam hesitated for a fraction of a second before dutifully picking up the pen. Wendy watched him scribble down his digits with the satisfaction of someone who had just won a game without the other person knowing there even was a game.

As Sam handed the card back, Wendy tucked it into her apron pocket with a nod. “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll make sure you get the very best brew.”

Beryl waited until they left and let out an exaggerated groan. “WENDY,” she hissed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Could you be any more obvious?”

Wendy didn’t miss a beat. “Just being welcoming, Beryl. Customer service is important.” she quipped and turned to adjust the display of pastries.

Beryl seethed as they locked up the café. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, Wendy,” she snapped, slamming a sack of beans into the cupboard.

Wendy looked up, feigning innocence. “What did I do now?”

“You know what. Why did you trick Sam into giving you her number?”

Wendy leaned casually against the counter, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “He intrigues me.”

“I knew it. I should never have told you anything about her.”

“Lighten up, Beryl,” Wendy said with a soft laugh. “And for the record, I only said ‘he’ to tease you.”

Beryl huffed, deciding not to push the issue further. She hoped that Wendy’s interest in Sam would fizzle out by morning.

But as Wendy boarded a tram to Ivycross, Sam was all she could think about. Normally, the quirky shops, bustling artisan markets, and vibrant pavements of the suburb captured her full attention, but today they barely registered. Her thoughts circled back to the brief encounter at the café, replaying every moment.

She couldn’t help but reflect on stories of Sam Beryl had shared before. When Beryl first described how transgender Sam Spink helped her dad through a rough patch Wendy had imagined a man as obvious as Beryl portrayed her - clumsy, awkward, maybe an exaggerated stereotype. Instead, real-life Sam had been sharp, confident, and utterly captivating. 

Her inner monologue raced. A chick with a dick, she thought with a mixture of irreverence and fascination. The phrase lingered, she moved on to considering having a transfriend. Sam must have known he was about to meet strangers at  The Bean Scene, strangers who knew she was trans, and yet she was so calm. Almost too calm when Wendy flirted - as if women hit on him all the time. 

And that, inevitably, led Wendy’s daydreaming thoughts to dating. For her, dating had become a routine as uninspiring as it was familiar: weeks of online flirting, a single awkward meetup, and then the inevitable return to scrolling profiles alone in her bedsit. The cycle was exhausting, a carousel of brief sparks that fizzled into nothing, leaving her restless and yearning for something real.

But Sam - Sam was different. Not just in the obvious way, but in the way that made Wendy curious, unsettled, and oddly hopeful. It wasn’t just about the novelty; it was about the confidence Sam carried, the quiet assurance that set her apart from the rest of Wendy’s fleeting connections. Could this be the something meaningful I’ve been looking for? Wendy wondered, a small flicker of excitement stirring inside her just like it had when Sam walked into the café.

In bed she was still thinking of Sam. Why not? she thought. Wendy had dated both men and women in the past; why not someone like Sam? She thought of the plus sides of a chick with a dick in her bed as she masturbated. It all made sense…

***

Like last nights masturbating, thoughts of dating Sam was forgotten by breakfast. Wendy had reset, her current thinking was; having a trans friend would make one hell of a story to share with friends.

 

Wendy role-played inside her head, practising introducing Sam at some imaginary soirée “Everyone, this is my friend, Sam” all her imaginary friends would already know Sam was her trans friend - that would cement Wendy’s reputation as the ‘wild child’ in her circle.

She smiled to herself as she pushed through the crowd outside the tram station. Sam wasn’t just a fleeting thought anymore; making a friend out of Sam was a challenge. And Wendy never could resist a challenge.

That evening Wendy messaged Sam, She stared at her phone for a good ten minutes, typing and deleting drafts before finally settling on something casual:

Wendy: Hi, Sam! This is Wendy from the café, Beryl’s friend. Just wanted to say thanks for stopping by yesterday. :)

She hit send and immediately regretted the smiley face. Before she could second-guess further, her phone buzzed.

Sam: Hi, Wendy. The coffee was great.

Wendy classified the reply as courteous, considered how to keep the conversation flowing without making it awkward.

Wendy: Glad to hear it! We just got a fresh batch of beans in - if you’re around this week, you should try them. No pressure, though!

Sam took a moment to respond, and Wendy resisted the urge to read into the delay.

Sam: That sounds good. Let me know when it’s quieter. I’m not a big fan of busy places.

Wendy smiled as she typed.

Wendy: Totally get it. Evenings are usually mellow. Maybe tomorrow? If you're free, I could give you the grand tour of our bean selection.

Sam agreed, and Wendy quickly added:

Wendy: Oh, and just to be clear - this isn’t a date or anything. Just thought you might like to check out the coffee stuff.

She hit send realising too late how desperate that sounded. 

13 - The Encounter

The café was all but empty when Sam arrived, just one man waiting on a flat white with legs. Behind the counter Wendy fiddled with the espresso machine as  if she wasn’t hyperaware of who had come through the door.

“Hey, Wendy” Sam said quietly as she looked up.

Wendy glanced up and smiled. “Hey you, good timing. I just finished setting up.” She motioned toward the far side of the counter, where several small jars of coffee beans were lined up.

“This is what I wanted you to try,” Wendy said, pouring a small amount of beans from one jar into a grinder. “This is an Ethiopian roast, kind of citrusy, really smooth. Thought you might share your opinion.”

Sam watched as Wendy prepared the coffee, her movements quick and deliberate. They talked a little about the beans and the café, the conversation easing.

When Wendy handed over the coffee, Sam took a sip and nodded. “It’s good. A little brighter than what I usually go for, but I like it.”

Wendy leaned against the counter, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “See? I know my stuff.”

Sam had checked closing times before he arrived and took his time drinking the coffee. It wasn’t a date, but it was something better than sitting in his room alone - and Mona’s new beau was in the apartment. 

Sam and Wendy chatted and exchanged stories of their parallel times in the city as if life did not exist pre-Ashminster. Wendy said she came to the city when she was eighteen, two years before, mentioned she lived in Ivycross.

“No way!” Sam exclaimed, said he tried to rent a place there, enthused over the trendy suburb. “It fell through at the final hurdle, that is how I ended up in a share in Skyline Building.”

Wendy turned the store lights out, they stood outside a while, Sam took a breath “let me walk you to your tram stop.” 

“Nice to have some company for once, I’m always alone in the café for the last half hour during the week.” Wendy said as they walked. 

Sam had no idea what that meant, if anything.

He slid his key in the lock slowly, stepped out of his Christian Louboutins and tippy-toed into his room. Beside carrying his heels he still carried a soul-crushing-crush for Mona. Sam was not ready to see Mona snuggled up on the sofa, being all lovey dovey with what’s his fucking name.

***

“Do not rush things Wendy” she told herself - much to the amusement of a bunch of schoolboys on the tram. Wendy had been replaying meeting Sam in her head - she listed his good points:

Sam was easy to talk to.

Sam spoke of the city being a lonely place.

Sam was impeccably dressed.

Those Christian Louboutins looked new - how did an office worker afford those?

And when Sam complimented Wendy on her outfit - simple skinny jeans and tee - there was no undertone of wishing to see occupant sans skinny jeans and tee. 

Unable to list a single bad point Wendy declared the non-date a successful step towards making Sam her friend.

She moved onto analysing herself - she had not gushed, she had not even cheek kissed, she had not suggested a further non-date. Wendy felt pleased at the way she had innocently revealed when and where to find her alone - reason enough to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

***

Sleep evaded Sam, in his head he jumped moment to moment, back and forth, reliving the evening. He replayed Wendys every word repeatedly, especially the part about being alone the last half hour at work. He reasoned that information had escaped Wendy’s lips accidentally, to use that information could make Sam a super-creep. But Sam did not want to blow Wendy off. He liked her, she seemed to like him, and one friend would feel a whole lot better than zero friends. He had a creep avoidance second meeting plan roughed out by the time his eyelids began feeling heavy.

Wendy decided she had struck out by Friday, Sam had not been in or even texted. When Sam walked in the coffee shop less than an hour before closing Wendy acknowledged him with a casual nod and, taking some cups to the back room, left Beryl to serve him.

Beryl smiled “Hi, Sam this is a nice surprise, what can I get you.” 

“I really enjoyed the Ethiopian roast, one of those please Beryl.” 

When Beryl finished serving a to-go customer she turned to Wendy “when did  Sam come in?” They chatted quietly a while, Wendy saying how Sam had walked her to the tram stop. Beryl signalled with her eyebrows in the way a macaque signals displeasure “what is going on Wendy.”

Wendy acted innocent “I was simply being nice, even said it wan’t a date when I invited Sam to come try the new roast coffees.” 

“Make sure it stays that way.” Beryl warned. She had seen Wendy’s cast off boyfriends hanging around outside Bean Scene like stray dogs outside a butchers shop. 

With a confidence only teenagers possessed Beryl decided Sam deserved better.

No adult took notice of seventeen year olds and Beryl knew that. She also knew her dad was protective of Sam, a word in Dad’s ear and Wendys card would be well and truly marked. Meanwhile, Beryl watched on helplessly.

“Busy tonight Sam?” Wendy said as she wiped down tables. She noticed Sam had a new look; jeans, tee, sneakers, hair in a high pony. Big change from the first two times they met. 

Sams look mirrored what Wendy often wore to work.

“Pizza, takeaway, eating alone in a restaurant looks so sad.” Sam said in a lighthearted tone.

“I know! I always feel that way.” Wendy guided the conversation; where do you get your pizza - I love that place - have you tried their… she smirked discreetly at Beryl “I get off work soon, how about we share a pizza?” Wendy smiled, even blushed a little when Sam said he would like that.

Seventy percent of Beryl was foot stamping angry. 

Thirty percent of Beryl was in awe of Wendy’s moves.

***

“Do you come bearing pizza?” Katie asked.

“Sorry, I come bearing odours of the pizzeria. I’ll go change. Sam said.

“No need” Katie suggested they watch a film together, noticed what he wore for the first time. “That is a casual look.” 

Katie made a pot of tea, Sam mentioned his pizza sharing friend. 

That perked Katie’s interest, she and Mona had been theorising recently about Sam’s blossoming social life. Some nights he would be out till late - clubbing they guessed. Yet he never smelled of alcohol. Then there were times he came home from work, changed and went straight out. Now there was a nameless friend who he met for pizza. 

Katie paused the film at a crucial moment and blurted out “what is your friends name?” 

“Wendy… that is what is on your mind as the murder closes in?” Sam chuckled “you are weird.”

“Sorry, Sam. I am happy you are starting to put down roots in the city, and I know Mona will be as well.” Katie gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “Talking of Mona, well, she swore me to secrecy, but I think you might need a friend to talk to. Okay, here goes, she thinks you might have feelings for her.” 

Sam had choices; deny it, admit it.

Denying would serve no purpose.

Admitting would, probably, serve no purpose. On the other hand Katie would surely tell Mona. “It’s more than feelings Katie, but Mona does not see me like that.”

“That sounds hard.” Katie actually sounded sorry for Sam for once “what will you do?”

“I’ve gotten over it, ” Sam shrugged, smiled “what’s a gurl to do?”

Sensing Sam contained more juicy gossip Katie went into full housemother mode “and we worry about you - alone in that room for hours on end… what do you find to occupy yourself?”

“When I am alone in my room?” Sam smiled innocently “Oh, I masturbate mostly Katie.”

“I try and be nice then you say something like that - you freak!” Katie huffed and restarted the film.

14 - The Office

Bruce Brown waited until he accidentally had a moment alone with Sam. Literally a ‘water-cooler’ moment, “Beryl said you called in.”

“Yea, I have gotten a taste for the coffee they serve at The Bean Scene.” Sam said.

Bruce was careful to make it clear he was simply the messenger “Beryl said you and Wendy have become friends.” Bruce gulped at his ice cold water, “Beryl said to warn you Wendy can be intense” a nervous laugh escaped.

“Thanks for the heads up Bruce, but we are barely friends.” Sam rested his hand on Bruce’s forearm “will you thank Beryl for looking out for me?” 

Bruce’s heads up had come to late for Sam, he had already added Wendy to the friends page that once had not a single name written upon it.

***

Sam booked a meeting with General Manager, he wore a floral summer dress to the meeting. “Thank you for your time General” Sam explained that in the absence of a dress code for Team Leaders he had decided to wear normal clothes. Before General could make some chauvinistic comment about Sam looking smart Sam continued. “This has created some resentment among female traders, and rightly so.” Sam suggested female dress code should be ‘work appropriate freestyle’  -  whatever that meant. 

Mona’s burner phone rang, Bertie Boufour wanted to know what was going on. So did Mona, she back-peddled while Bertie outlined the meeting. 

Mona smiled at how sneaky Sam had been. Mona could have issued the statement (and taken credit for it).  

“Brilliant idea, zero cost to the company,” Mona decided to let Sam have this one. “The female staff will love it. We’ll let Sam Spink take the credit for it.” 

“I think your prodigy will get the credit regardless Mona.” Bertie ended the call.

Sam sent a team email; 

Team 3 only - dress code detailing skirt length and colour ended, new dress code - work appropriate freestyle. 

Lisa arrived back after lunch wearing a summer dress and, smiling, checked it was work appropriate freestyle with Sam.

***

“What is with that Lisa Lovings?” Katie asked at dinner. 

Mona played the innocent, “in what way?”

“She was wearing a floral dress in the office this afternoon. Sam… are you or are you not supposed to send staff home for wearing something like that in the office?” Katie was hopeful Mona would reprimand Sam.

Sam smiled “dress code changed today in group 3.” He explained the change would be company wide next day.

Just as dress code changed overnight so did female coworkers. Sam now had a name, warranted a nod of acknowledgement, and perhaps even a hi - under certain circumstances of course. 

Wendy had gotten into the habit of meeting up with Sam to eat lunch in the park when shifts or rest day permitted. Early morning telephone calls preceded such lunches. Phone to ear, fridge door open, they would plan their lunch. Each a part, together a whole Katie would tease without fail.

In a brave move Sarah Shackleton and Lisa Lovings joined Sam at his table in the canteen. Nodding acknowledgement in passing was one thing, taking lunch at Sam’s table a whole other world. Park days aside, Sam ate his lunch alone and he liked that. Sarah and Lisa were like junior versions of Katie - gossips apprentices if you will. Sarah kicked the fact finding session “your friend is very pretty, you know, the one you lunch with in the park.”

“I will pass that on” Sam smiled at Sarah’s look of frustration “what was I supposed to say Sarah?” 

“I thought you were a couple” Lisa said

“Me too” Sarah said with a giggle.

“No, just a friend, if that is all…”  Not wanting to throw Wendy’s name into the office gossip mill Sam resumed eating.

“Mind if I join?” Katie was holding the Tupperware containing the lunch Sam had left in the fridge for her. “Carry on, what are you all talking about?”

Sam’s jaw muscles tensed, he began chewing at top speed.

Lisa noticed “Hey, slow down Boss, you’ll end up with indigestion. We were talking about park woman, Sam’s lunch buddy.”

“Park Woman?” Katie chuckled “When Sam is making lunch for them he makes me something.” Katie wiggled her Tupperware box and gave Sam a smile.

As the office gossip mill had labeled Wendy Park Woman Sam decided to stick with it “Eating alone in public is sad, nothing more to say about Park Woman.”

Katie watched the interrogation team head back to the office. “Are you inviting Park Woman to the New Year party?” Katie said.

“I was thinking I might” Sam pondered a while, Katie may not have realised Park Woman and Wendy are one and the same. He decided to let it play on “I will ask Park Woman next time we meet. But a company party is a big thing. Perhaps I should say it’s not a date, just to be clear.”

“It is your decision, but I’m guessing you lunch buddies are past that point in your friendship.” Katie smiled. “Are you going to tell me her name? Or should I take lunch in the park someday?”

“If she agrees to the New Year party.” Sam knew she was only mining for gossip but he liked her friendliness. Sam felt time had come to tell Katie a secret, they were the last in the room. “Before you go I need to tell you something.” Sam explained the condom wrapper “you passing out in my bed aside, nothing happened.” He felt better for that. 

“Why, exactly, are you telling me that at work?” Katie made no effort to hide her anger.

“Safety” Sam laughed softly “Less chance of you punching me in the face.”

Katie tried without success to stifle a laugh, she leant close “why am I finding it so fucking hard to dislike you?”

“Resistance is pointless, and frankly, a waste of energy," Sam sniggered. "I'm a delight and you know it.”

15 - The Visit

Sam lifted the veil of secrecy a little and invited Wendy to the apartment - Mona and Katie had dates and Wendy was weekend off. Wendy’s first question; “will I meet your roommates?” 

“Probably” he explained Mona and Katie were also coworkers. They planned the visit like a park lunch - Sam would cook a pasta based dinner, Wendy would bring the wine and Schiacciata breads from the little tuscan bakery in Ivycross. 

She arrived late afternoon, the Schiacciata still warm from the oven. Sam and Mona were in the kitchen, the pasta sauce a joint effort, they had not heard the door and it was left to Katie to welcome her “I’m Wendy, Sam’s friend.”

Sam glanced up from the chopping board. “Hi Wendy”

“Hey you”

Katie introduced Mona before excusing herself. 

Mona tapped on Katie’s door a few minutes later “what did you make of that?”

“It was like they barely knew each other.” Katie said

“Or they know each other better than they are letting on.” Mona tapped at her iPhone “I just bailed on my date. I cannot miss this - whatever this might turn out to be.”

“Would it be weird if I bailed as well?” Katie asked.

 

Sam knocked the door, called out “are you two decent?” 

“Of course we are…” Katie smiled as she opened the door “we were commiserating, our dates have blown us off.”

“I’m taking Wendy on the grand apartment tour, never go in there.” Sam warned Wendy with a smirk, then told the story of the day he cleaned Katie’s room before continuing with the apartment tour which ended in his room. 

Katie and Mona could hear Wendy’s ooh’s and ahh’s through the partly closed door. They had a pretty good idea Sam had opened his closet.

***

The small kitchen table provided just enough space for the four of them. Wendy opened the Vino Nobile di Montepulciano she had brought and poured. Mona noticed neither Sam nor Wendy touched their wine, “can I get you something else to drink Wendy?” 

“Are you having wine  Sam?” Wendy asked

“I was waiting for you” Sam said with a smile. With the synchronicity of seahorses Sam and Wendy sipped their wine and smiled “there is nothing worse than one sided wine breath” Sam explained to confused looking roommates.

 

They sat chatting while coffee brewed, Mona and Katie avoided watching as Wendy picked up the remaining Schiacciata, tore a chunk free, tore that chunk in half and handed one to Sam. Each took a swipe through the pasta sauce on their plates and slowly chewed the bread. 

Wendy said “I love your apartment” to no one in particular.

“Thank you, what do you like best?” Mona asked

Wendy glanced around “has to be Sam’s closet” Wendy laughed “I mean the closet with Sam’s clothes in not the… well you know.” She did not bother to hide her snigger “I said, what did you do, go in Elysium and say I’ll have one of each please?”

“Some people at work are into cars, for Sam it’s clothes.” Katie said.

“That is a common trait among people like her.” Wendy said without a hint of wrongdoing. 

Sam smiled “I make you right.”

Katie continued gathering information for the office gossip mill in the way little red riding hood gathered firewood in the forest. “What do you do Wendy”

“I work in The Bean Scene, you know it?” 

Sam touched Wendy’s forearm “Wendy is being overly modest, she is a writer.”

This was gold, Katie’s imagination called up a story in which Sam was a central character. Wendy hanging with Sam finally made sense - writers research. 

“Sam Spink, stop bigging me up this instant” Wendy shoulder bumped Sam “I’m in my last year at uni, there is still a way to go yet.”

“No, Wendy Watson, you stop littling yourself down this instant” Sam rested his hand on Wendy’s “Wendy writes a column for the The Ashminster Reporter and…”

 Wendy popped a chunk of Schiacciata in Sam’s mouth “That is quite enough”

Sam waited until they were walking toward the tram stop before asking if Wendy would be his plus one at the office new year party. Then nerves kicked in and he blurted “not like a date…”

“I think like a date would be better Sam, we do not want your coworkers thinking I am some sort of a paid escort. This is my tram…”

“Okay, we will say you are my date if anyone asks.” Sam hoped someone would ask, he gave a little wave as the tram pulled away. 

In the apartment Mona and Katie had virtually talked themselves to a standstill.  Katie had tried-out her writers research theory on Mona and, out-loud, it sounded ridiculous to them both. They did agree on one thing - if they are not already dating then Wendy is stealth-dating Sam.

Mona felt her heart speed up when the strangest thought ever filled her head - the same thought she had during the Henry/Katie period - Mona did not want Sam, but nor did she want Wendy to have him.  

16 - The Shuffle

Sam walked into the team leaders meeting already aware of the shitstorm brewing within Group 3. 

General Manager was the last to arrive, he read the update “Oh and one more thing Henry Hunter’s posting has been permanentised effective immediately.” General looked around the room, pleased at how easily he had slipped permanentised into corporate speak, he waggled a finger in the air as he spoke to indicate the decision had come from above. “Sam Spink is also permanentised.”

This news sparked the sort of unrest usually seen in classrooms when teacher has left the room. Sam filed his permanentising thoughts for later and concentrated on snippets of the two to three concurrent conversations around the table from which people would leave or join at random intervals. 

In separate offices Bertie Boufour and Mona Montague watched the conference room video feed, their burner phones running red hot.  

General Manager regained control, suggested Sam say a few words. 

The news of Henry Hunter’s permanentising came as a pleasant surprise to Mona. And so did Sam’s. Bertie and General Manager aside, no-one had prepared for this!

Bertie watched with the amusement of a sprite who had moved a piece on someone else’s chess board unnoticed. He tried to imagine himself in his, control freak, niece’s shoes - helplessly watching her protégé being thrown to the lions.

 

Sam decided to let the shitstorm begin. He mentioned the unrest within ‘my’ team “I suggest we have a transfer period, well more swap period. Let the traders uncomfortable working for a transvestite manager move to other groups before anything unfortunate occurs.” T-wording the room instantly set everyone back-pedalling. 

“Ohh, she is good” Bertie said into the burner phone.

Mona was in full on panic mode. “Put a stop to this uncle, this is like watching a car crash.” 

“Not just yet my little poppet.”

Mona accepted her childhood pet-naming and waited silently.

“So, one of your traders wants to join my team, then you get to choose from my team?” Group One manager cautiously tested.

“No, you get to dump someone in my group.” Sam smiled innocently.

Group Five manager tested how much of an idiot Sam was. “And we can approach your team?”

“Oh, I encourage you to.” Sam said.

General Manager read the text from Bertie Boufour and spoke “Okay I have approval from,” General Manager pointed skywards “two week swap period, starting today.”

Sam lost no time giving his team the good news “…of course that means the restless among you are free to approach other groups.”

Mona and Bertie continued talking:

Bertie: that went well

Mona: Cannot believe Sam

Bertie: Have him talk you trough his thinking then call back, Bertie ended the call.

***

While Katie showered Mona mentioned the meeting. Sam ignored Mona’s negativity and pressed on. "In two weeks, I’ll have a team of traders no one else wants - and they’ll all know it. My team targets will be reset, and I’ll be working with undesirables who’ve missed their targets regularly. Just like my protégé Bruce Brown did once upon a time."

Mona raised an eyebrow. "When did you come up with this plan?"

"While the other managers were busy arguing among themselves," Sam replied with a sly grin.

Mona couldn’t help but smile.

The doorbell rang, Sam said confidently "I’m going to earn a ship load of money next year, Mona.” 

Wendy came directly from work. Around Mona and Katie, Sam and Wendy’s friendship continued to have a certain robotishness to it. When they went into Sam’s room sounds of endless, unintelligible, conversation filtered through the door. 

That ruled out kissing Mona said to Katie. 

Katie unhelpfully mentioned people could talk and fuck at the same time. 

Katie also, occasionally, claimed Sam and Wendy spoke in robot when alone.

Sam was not in an at home mood.

Sam was in a celebration mood, he booked a table for two at their favourite bistro. And changed it to four when Katie and Mona assumptively invited themselves.

Wendy said “the one day I wear uniform, I’ll nip home and change”

“I might have something you can wear” Mona offered.

“I was hoping you might say that” Wendy said with a smile. The little lopsided smile that got her whatever she wanted with guys worked just as well with Sam. “We are both size 10 and there is a dress…”

“My closet is your closet” Sam said and the robots laughed at themselves. Sam handed Wendy clean towels.

Mona and Katie exchanged puzzled looks when towel clad Wendy walked into Sam’s room and closed the door. Periods of unintelligible conversation interspersed with giggles filtered through the door into the lounge room. 

***

Sam open and closed his underwear drawers in rotation “help yourself.” 

Like an air hostess pointing out emergency exits, Sam pointed out “Bras, bralettes, panties, gaffs, suspender belts, panty hose, stockings…”

Wendy noted two things - the absence of any awkwardness between them and the number of items that still bore store tags. “Gaffs? tell me about them.” Wendy teased as she selected a pair of panties and pulled the tags.

Sam picked up a gaff and, using fingers à la mode du Emily, demonstrated their salient feature.  

Wendy let her towel drop.

Sam averted his eyes.

“That is rude Sam” Wendy mock chastised “if I wanted you to turn away I would have said so.” She liked the way he blushed as he looked “can I borrow a white bra?”  Wendy laughed kindly “34D? Whose are these?”

Sam suggested a bralette as he explained, back in the early days, a sales assistant said they were the size crossdressers wore with forms. He decided to share a secret “I try one on every week to see if I have grown” 

“You think you might suddenly grow yourself a pair of Ds’ over the course of one week?” Wendy laughed kindly “try my bra, 34A - a realistic target.” 

Sam paused

“It’s clean today.”

“It’s not that Wendy, I’m a little shy.” Sam unbuttoned his blouse, and turned away. Rather than make things worse Wendy’s snigger gave him courage to turn to face her and unfasten his bralette. 

The bra had wires around the cups which kept everything in place while he fastened the back “they look enormous, humungous even!” Sam declared as he looked in the mirror.

Wendy sounded incredulous “it is the first time my 34a’s have been called humungous.”

While Sam showered Wendy laid out what she wanted him to wear on the bed - a bottle green wrap dress that would accentuate his breasts, her black bra, black gaff, black suspender belt and a pack of sheer seamed stockings “wear the bra tonight.”

Beneath the clothes in Sam’s closet were boxes of designer shoes, Wendy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the labels - every pair was her size. She tried on all eleven pairs before making her choice. 

Head to toe, Sam was the perfect best friend.

***

Sam walked into the lounge room, dressed as instructed. Wendy kept a discreet watch on him, he was so self conscious of his bra enhanced breasts. She thought he looked sweet when, from time to time, times when he felt unobserved, Sam would pull the wrap dress tight and re-tighten the belt. After that he would watch his roommates nervously, perhaps expecting them to mention his breasts. In reality he looked little different from any other day.

Sam’s uncharacteristic self consciousness gave him a vulnerable quality that stirred desire inside Wendy. She never expected that!

They prepared to leave, Wendy spoke, “Sam… would you mind if we practise  for the party tonight?”

“Sure” Sam had picked up what Wendy meant instantly, he explained “we are going to the company new years as a couple rather than friends. We’ll still be friends of course, you know what I mean.”

“When did you decide that?” Mona asked casually.

“A while ago.” Wendy smiled and took Sam by the hand, they walked side by side to the elevator. 

Katie mouthed a silent wow as they followed along, Mona replied in eyebrow semaphore.

“I’ve noticed some couples do this” Sam unhitched his hand and hooked his pinky around Wendy’s pinky finger “more discreet than a display of full on handholding, what do you think?”

Wendy released pinkies, took the half step shuffle to the far side of the elevator, moved back and re-pinkied them “we need some practice to make it look natural”

“Muscle memory comes fast and we have a few days until the party.” Sam felt happy Wendy liked his suggestion. 

They parted after the meal - Sam and Wendy toward her Tram stop, Katie and Mona toward home.

“You want to know what I think?” Katie said and, as if Mona had said yes, Katie continued “they both want to date but left it too late. Now they are scared it will wreck their friendship.”

“They certainly made a good job of proving that theory wrong tonight” Mona said sarcastically.

At the Tram stop Wendy remembered her uniform at the apartment, said she will get it another day “no trying my uniform on, I know what you trannies are like for uniforms” she teased.

“I get my fix at Mirages“ Sam sniggered “barista doesn’t do anything for me.” 

Wendy leant in, practise kissed Sam. “Oooh prickly.”

“I’ll shave twice daily now we are practising.”

“I forgot you had face hair, blonde does not notice.”

Sam laughed “I see women with more face hair than me.”

“Is that a dig at women like me?” Wendy mocked-shocked at Sam “because I have dark hair?” Wendy ran his finger over her upper lip “I had a few hairs once, had them zapped.”

“You mean laser, did it hurt?”

“Only my pocket.” Wendy leant in for another practise.”

“We should practise this more” Sam said, Wendy agreed enthusiastically. He made a mental note to get laser asap.

“Mirages… that’s where you hide out?” Wendy said before resuming practise.

“I’ll be there Saturday, eight till late.” Sam smiled “if you drop in, be ready to be shocked.”

17 - Mirages 

While all around him traders jostled for more favourable groups, Sam took advantage of the uncertain times to shop. Elysium Boutique had a new 1950s range in and he had been invited to the pre-launch. According to Leonie it was the new year look and, in all fairness, Leonie had never been wrong. 

Sam fell in love at first sight - the 1950s’ housewife style was to die for. One twirl and the layered petticoat did its thing - there was absolutely no point in checking the price.

Wendy had already bought her party dress and was being very secretive about it. Sam’s only clue lie in the knowledge she had earmarked a pair of his Jimmy Choos for the night.

Sam racked his brain trying to remember where he had seen the accessories to go with his new dress. He had seen the shop during his first apartment search. He took a tram in the most likely direction - the shops lining the street were older, more old fashioned stores that didn’t exactly match the Ashminster vibe.

Sam smiled, put his hand to the door of a small, old-fashioned shop, the sign read: “Eve’s Corsetry and Fine Lingerie.”

A sales assistant sat behind the counter acknowledged his arrival with a nod, Sam took a quick scan of the display, he had a feeling he had come to the right place. The assistant let him browse, waited for Sam to approach, he explained what he wanted, “a corselette, have I pronounced that right?”  

He had, Eve introduced herself.

Sam reciprocated, pointed out the elephant in the room “I’m a crossdresser, Eve, is that okay?” 

It was.

He described the dress, and the almost pointy look he wanted from the corselette.

“Corselettes were a popular choice in the 1950s they help achieve a more shapely and feminine figure.” Eve laid out the white lacy garment on the counter, “this Maidenform corselette will create a smooth, hourglass silhouette and circle stitching to the cups will give the bullet bra look you want, it even boasts six suspenders to keep those seams laser straight.” Eve let him take his time, she watched his eyes dart from detail to detail. “There are less expensive options.”

Sam tentatively touched the fabric in the waay a keeper might touch a tiger through the bars of its cage, “I love this style, Eve. How are they sized?”

“Well, by eye followed by a try-on is the best way” Eve swished open the curtain to the changing room. 

Sam began undressing without a second thought. Eve took in what she had to work with, he wore a gaff - that alone told Eve a lot. And a pointless bralette - a fashion garment made from the stretchiest fabric known to mankind. It did absolutely nothing for his little breasts. 

Eve stepped into the stock room, selected a box from the shelf and was ready to discover if she still could size corselettes by eye twenty years after they went out of fashion. As Eve expected, Sam declared the corselette too small when he was either half in or half out. Eve came to the rescue and with a few steady, firm, pulls Sam was all-in.

Sam was thankful for the gaff, he had not experienced such a reaction to underwear since the early days. Sam looked in the mirror, wriggled side to side, felt body and corselette jostling for control. His breasts not only looked humungous - they looked pointy humungous, “I love it Eve, why ever did corselettes ever go out of fashion?”

“Fashions change, women’s liberation, bra burning” Eve smiled “talking of bras…”

Sam left with black and white corselettes and a collection of bras. On the tram he took out his notebook and jotted down which bra suited which occasion.

Wendy put into words what Mona and Katie had been too polite to mention “your new bra is doing an eye-pokingly awesome job.”

Sam blushed “Eve suggested I wear properly fitting bras”

“Do you know the name of every sales assistant in Ashminster?” Wendy teased.

“Well they remember me, it only seems polite.”

“I doubt they serve that many trannies.” Wendy said glancing at Katie as she led Sam to his room.

“You mean not many trannies this cute huh?” Sam sniggered.

Mona stood openmouthed “how does Sam just accept her hurtful comments like that?” 

Katie shrugged.

 

***

Slow music played over hidden speakers, Mirages came to life. Sam moved table to table while effortlessly balancing a tray. Thanks to his new bra Sam filled out the black-and-white maid uniform impressively. He liked the way his costume implied subservience to the customers - mostly well behaved crossdressers and their partners. At one time they came for the club's relaxed, welcoming atmosphere - and more recently - Sam’s good natured flirting. 

Wendy assumed he worked as a barmaid and, though he hadn't explicitly told her otherwise, he hadn’t corrected her either. He was curious to see her reaction when she arrived.

Sam spotted Wendy the instant she stepped into Mirages, her expression was a delightful mix of amusement and surprise. She spotted Sam at the far end of the room, waiting tables, wearing a maid uniform! Her mouth curved into a smile. Before Wendy could fully process the scene a woman approached her.

"Good evening, I’m Wilma Wilkinson, the clubs manager," she extended a hand. Her tailored suit and warm welcome set the tone put Wendy at ease.

"I’m Wendy, a friend of Sams," she said, glancing toward her friend.

"Ah, yes, Sam mentioned you’d be visiting some time. He’s a favourite among members," Wilma said with a smile. "Why don’t I show you to a table?"

Wendy settled into a cozy corner table, Sam approached with a tray, his cheeks faintly pink under the club's soft lights. 

"Good evening, Miss Watson," Sam said with mock formality and curtsey, setting down a glass of wine in front of her.

"Well, don’t you look... professional," Wendy teased, her tone light and affectionate. "You’ve been holding out on me, Sam. I thought my friend was a barmaid, not a maid-maid."

Sam grinned, unfazed. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

"You certainly do," if there was a smile designed to indicate approval then that was the smile Wendy wore, her eyes twinkled. Wendy chatted with Wilma some more, learning more about the club while Sam continued working his shift.

Sam changed back into his own clothes, trading maid uniform for distressed jeans and a sweater. As if their hands were on autopilot their pinkies hooked together. Sam walked Wendy to her tram stop.

“I would never have guessed you would wear a maid costume. You’re full of surprises, Sam Spink," Wendy said, nudging him playfully. “Do you ever think about wearing a maid costume other than at Mirages…sorry Sam, I am being too personal.”

“It’s fine, friends can talk about anything. You mean playing a maid in real life?” Sam sounded shocked “acting subservient, like in those Man to Maid stories online?”

Wendy nodded, “uh-huh, like those…”

“No…” Sam shuddered theatrically.

“Right answer, there is something else I want to ask” Wendy laughed, leant in for a kiss, they had progressed to practicing longer kisses. 

“Ask away” Sam said

“I read how some trans people have what they call bottom surgery…”

“Technically speaking I am a crossdresser, not transgender.” Sam outlined the differences and spoke openly about having no intention of any surgery let alone having his cock cut off “but I like it when you call me a tranny.”

Right answer - Wendy did not say it, but she thought it. ”Well, my little tranny, tonight was fun. Thanks for inviting me."

"Anytime," Sam returned the practice kiss. "Safe trip home, Wendy."

As the tram doors closed behind her, Wendy waved and felt a little sad at being parted so soon.

***

On his last shift before New Years Sam adjusted the frilly white apron over his short black maid’s uniform, stealing a glance at himself in the mirror tucked behind the staff locker room door, he smiled, remembered how, the first few nights, he had been nervous at this point. 

There was a time when a maid costume wasn’t something Sam had ever imagined wearing - let alone in public. Fast forward to tonight and he could not imagine wearing anything else at Mirages. 

One night a week was enough bordering too often.

Balancing the tray of drinks with practiced ease, Sam weaved through the crowded tables almost in time with the slow music. The evenings patrons were  the usual mix of regulars, newcomers, and the simply curious. 

At the bar, Wilma Wilkinson sat at the bar chatting with bar staff, Michelle Martinez and Doris Demontré. Wilma carried an air of effortless authority, Michelle was casually flipping a shaker hand to hand while Doris, ever glamorous with her drag-platinum blonde wig and glittering eyeliner, sipped from a martini glass.

Club regular, Greggor, approached the group hesitantly and took the barstool next to Wilma. His eyes followed Sam delivering drinks to a table across the room.

Wilma was the first to draw the newcomer into the group “evening, Greggor. You’re looking date sharp tonight, eye on someone new perhaps?”

Greggor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his gaze flickering to Sam again. “Uh, no… I was just wondering… has Sam ever mentioned me?”

Michelle froze mid-shake and exchanged a glance with Doris, whose eyes immediately lit with amusement. They both burst into laughter, Doris nearly spilling her drink.

“Sam? Really?” Doris said, her laughter soft and kind. “Bless your heart, Greggor.”

Michelle leaned on the counter, shaking his head. “No offence, mate, but Sam’s about as straight as a pool cue.”

Greggor’s face reddened, but Wilma raised a hand to quiet them, giving Greggor a sympathetic smile. “Now, now, gurls” she said gently. “Greggor, darling, Sam is a sweetheart, but Michelle is correct, Sam is so straight even Moses couldn’t part those cheeks.”

Michelle grinned, tapping the cocktail shaker on the bar. “Preach, Wilma.”

Greggor sighed, glancing at Sam again. “What a waste…”

Wilma softened her tone. “I get it, Greggor. She’s got that kind of presence, doesn’t she? But trust me, her being here is about her own journey, not about catching anyone’s eye.”

Sam returned to the bar, tray empty. He noticed the group’s sudden silence and raised a brow. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, nothing,” Doris said with a smirk. “Greggor here was just admiring your… dedication, darling.”

Sam rolled his eyes but smiled. “Hi Greggor. Speaking of dedication, Doris, maybe you could dedicate yourself to making table four’s martinis. They’re getting restless.”

“Mee-ow” Michelle cackled.

Greggor slipped away quietly as the group dissolved into playful banter. Wilma watched him go with a touch of pity, then turned to Sam. “You doing all right tonight Sammie baby? It’s busier than usual.”

Sam nodded, smoothing his apron. “I’m good.”

19 - The Party

The International Commodities New Year’s Party was held in a grand ballroom complete with shimmering lights and the hum of excited chatter. The company spared no expense, with a buffet, a live band followed by a DJ. 

Sam arrived with Wendy fashionably late, they paused a while on the pavement, took a few slow, deep breaths until they felt ready. 

They had role-played far more than either pretended was necessary; entrance, socialising, dancing - all became second nature long ago. 

Katie waved them over, glass of champagne in hand. Mona chatted with her date, trying not to look in Sam's direction for too long. Mona's date was perfect for a company event - handsome, confident, charming enough. 

Ever observant Katie could see where Mona’s attention really lay. "She’s hopeless," Katie muttered under her breath as she watched Mona sneak another glance in the direction of Sam and Wendy.

Temporally abandoned by husbands, who propped up the bar, Sarah Shackleton and Lisa Lovings took in every detail of late arrivals from the comfort of their table. 

Lisa spoke first “look who just minced in - Sam and Park Woman.”

“There are plenty more deserving of bitchy comments. And, by the way, Park Woman’s name is Wendy, Wendy Watson” Sarah softly nudged her friend with her elbow “Let Sam have tonight off Lisa.”

“And you know how?” Lisa slipped into level five gossip mode.

“Katie Kitahara told me, did you know they are roomies?” Sarah said in a teacher like way

“Then Sam is Mona Montague’s roomie as well?” Three glasses of champagne down Lisa’s mind continued adding two plus two and coming up with four “So, Sam has a line straight into HR.”

***

“Wendy is stunning, isn’t she?” Sarah instantly regretted awarding Park Woman the ‘stunning’  compliment and added “I mean in an obvious way…”

"Sure," Lisa agreed, setting her glass down. “I had hair like that when I was her age - long and jet black. Lisa chuckled “Now bottle black hides my greys. Look at how hers looks like she just walked out of a salon. I wonder what someone like her sees in Sam."

Sarah nodded. "They’re a contrast, aren’t they? Sam’s all soft edges and too blond for the Third Reich, and she’s this sharp, striking elegance. Look at her dress - it’s a classic."

Lisa leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as Wendy passed close by. "Like Lauren Bacall has just stepped out of a vintage film noir."

Sarah’s eyes flicked down to Wendy’s feet. “See the shoes, are those Jimmy Choos she is wearing?"

“Sam Spink’s plus one?” Lisa let out a soft laugh. "Of course they are." 

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "Some women dress to impress, but with her, it looks... natural. Like she can’t be bothered to try. It’s all the little details - the subtle red on her lips, the delicate earrings, nothing too flashy."

“You mean like someone has styled her?” Lisa smiled. "And the way she is around Sam... it’s almost… practised."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how?"

"They’re so comfortable with each other. Look how they hold hands - not in that over-the-top, ‘look at us’ kind of way. It’s subtle, like a strong breeze could blow them apart."

Lisa shrugged. "Doesn’t matter. She’s playing her part perfectly. They both are. And everyone here is noticing."

"Especially Mona Montague," Sarah muttered, nodding toward Mona.

Lisa followed her gaze, noticing Mona’s tight smile and the way her eyes lingered on Sam and Wendy. “Oof.”

***

They laughed softly, Sarah and Lisa shifted their focus as Wendy disappeared into the crowd. Their husbands still hung out at the bar. ”Now, Sam," Sarah said, swirling the last of her wine in her glass. "He’s quite the contrast, isn’t he?"

Lisa chuckled. "You’re telling me. That  jaw-length bob is salon sharp, it makes me jealous. Know what? I bet they both spent the day getting their hair done."

"It suits her, though," Sarah mused. "It softens her, balances out that dress. Speaking of which, let’s talk about the dress.”

Lisa nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Oh, we must. It’s straight out of the 1950s - classic housewife. Knee-length, cinched at the waist, with that flared skirt. Honestly, all she’s missing is a pearl necklace and a martini in one hand."

Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "She’s got the vibe down perfectly, though."

Lisa, the fashionista of the pair,  squinted for a better look. “Takes courage to wear such a bold rose design. Whatever, it’s undeniably retro. But the real pièce de résistance?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"The bullet bra," Lisa said with a mischievous grin.

Sarah nearly choked on her drink. "You think Sam’s wearing one?"

"Think?" Lisa smirked. "I know. Look at the shape of that bust - so pointed, so precise. That’s not just padding - that’s old-school engineering. You don’t get that silhouette without committing to the 1950s theme all the way."

Sarah leaned back in her chair, clearly impressed. "I’ll give them this - they knew people would look. It’s like they are saying ‘okay, stare all you want."

Lisa nodded. “Exactly."

***

In traditional corporate fashion the evening progressed with toasts, laughter, and plenty of dancing. Sam and Wendy mostly danced slow songs, Sam’s hand resting lightly on her waist as they cinched-up and swayed to the music. They started the night playing their roles, exchanging whispers and giggles designed to sell their act. But as the night wore on, the line between acting and something more began to blur.

Wendy found herself leaning into Sam like they were the only two people in the world. "I think we’re almost too good at this," Wendy said softly as another slow song began.

Sam smiled, didn’t pull away. “Maybe not."

“Maybe not," Wendy murmured her agreement, cheeks pink.

Later, they slipped out of the main ballroom, looking for a moment’s reprieve from the crowded dance floor. They ended up in a quiet, dimly lit hallway, the noise of the party a distant hum.

“Tonight is fun," Wendy said, her voice softer now, her hand still resting in Sam’s.

Sam turned to her, his expression unusually serious. "Yeah, every night is fun when you are with me."

Their eyes met, and the air between them shifted. Without thinking, Sam leaned in, and Wendy responded, their lips meeting in a kiss that could most certainly not be called practise.

Neither noticed Mona standing at the far end of the hallway, frozen in place. She had wandered out hoping to find Sam alone and caught sight of the moment. Her chest tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. She turned quickly, dabbing at her cheeks as she hurried back to the ballroom, hoping no one would notice.

Back in the hallway, Sam and Wendy pulled apart, breathless and slightly stunned.

"That wasn’t practise," Wendy whispered.

"No, it wasn’t.”

They shared a look, Wendy smiled and looped her pinkie with his. Together, they returned to the party, the world around them suddenly feeling a little different.

In the ballroom, Mona stood beside her date, who handed her another glass of champagne. Mona smiled tightly, determined to keep her composure, but the ache in her heart was harder to hide.

***

Katie sat at the breakfast bar cradling her mug of coffee, a little groggy from the night before. Across from her, Mona stared into her own cup, quiet and pensive.

The sound of the shower running broke the silence. Katie sipped her coffee, her brow furrowing slightly when she caught a faint hum of two voices. Her heart sank. She hadn’t expected Wendy to be here, and from the sound of it, she and Sam were sharing the bathroom.

Katie glanced at Mona, who appeared lost in thought. Hoping Wendy might avoid the kitchen and slip away Katie reached over and turned on the radio "music to wake us up," she said with forced cheerfulness.

Mona barely responded, giving only a faint nod. As much as she tried to snap out of it her thoughts kept on circling back to the scene of Sam and Wendy kissing. And, if that were not bad enough, when they got home, Mona watched as Wendy followed Sam into his room.

Laughter echoed down the hall. Sam and Wendy walked into the kitchen together, both wrapped in fluffy bathrobes, their hair damp. They were laughing about some joke from the party.

"Morning, everyone!" Sam said brightly, oblivious to the tension. He grabbed the coffee pot and began pouring two mugs, sliding one to Wendy.

Katie glanced at Mona, saw her eyes welling up.

Mona stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me," she murmured, her voice cracking. She hurried out of the kitchen, disappearing into her room before anyone could speak.

Wendy shifted uncomfortably, looking between Sam and Katie.

Katie sighed, setting her mug down with a soft clink. "Well," she said, her tone dry, "that went about as well as I expected.”

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it. He set his mug on the counter. Wendy touched his arm lightly, her brow furrowed in concern. "I should go," Wendy said softly, glancing toward the hallway.

“No, you should hear this Wendy.” Katie topped off their coffees “I’m not sure if Sam has told you this, but he had a crush on Mona a while back, before he met you…”

“Not before me, Katie. Sam talked of little else when we first met” Wendy looked at Sam, “well you did.”

Sam tried to brave-out his embarrassment, “what was I thinking, me and Mona, could you imagine…”

Wendy had a good idea where the conversation was headed and made distraction toast.

“Sam! For someone so smart you manage to hide it incredibly well at times,” Katie picked up a slice of toast “think back over the last few days, who arrives home with your favourite little treats, who gave you that new body lotion, do I need to continue?”

Katie chewed slowly, Sam finally spoke “you mean Mona has feelings, for me?”

“Duh” Wendy slapped her forehead with the heel of her palm “you really had no idea?”

20 - Ivycross Hide Out

 

Sam and Wendy decided to lay low a while. Sam liked the compactness of Wendy’s bedsit - not least of all for the ease of slipping seamlessly from couch to bed. That is what happened the night Wendy joked “this feels like we are on the run, a real life Bonnie and Clyde.” 

“Bonnie and Bonnie, surely.”

“Depends, which one are you?” Wendy laughed.

“Wendy…” Sam said in a serious tone, he turned to face her. He had been on the verge of telling Wendy about the two year plan for a while - since before new years - since when there was over a year left - recently the timer inside Sam’s head had switched from counting down by the month to counting down by the week. Sam knew immediately after sex was not the ideal time to tell Wendy - when would be. 

Whatever the consequences he could put it off no longer “I need to tell you something…”

“Me first,” Wendy silenced Sam with a long kiss “I have been wanting to say this since forever” she said into Sam’s neck while hugging ever tighter, “I love you.”

Sam told Wendy he loved her, revealing the plan could wait. Wendy  pretended to be asleep. She felt movement as Sam spooned into her. Using her best sleepy voice said “I’m too in love to sleep Sam.” With a sudden burst of energy Wendy said “Get up!” kicked off the duvet,   reassured Sam even twenty-three year olds went clubbing at one in the morning. 

Mona and Sam met in the corridors at International Commodities, “look, Sam, you and Wendy don’t need to avoid me, it was a silly schoolgirl crush, I’m over it.” Mona lied. Seeing Sam with Wendy was better than not having Sam around. 

Back in her office Mona took out her legal pad, listed the reasons she had brought Sam to head office, the reasons she had installed Sam in the apartment to punish LGBT-a-phobe Katie and so on. 

Her new personal development book said doing so was the pathway to resetting. Mona left the list on her desk, read it from time to time, added extra points to the list. 

Her personal development book said she should burn the sheet as if it were some sort of shamanic ritual. International Commodities had strict rules in place that covered that sort of thing. Mona fed the sheet into the shredder and felt no more reset than she had hours before. 

Page by page Mona fed the personal development book into the shredder - now she felt reset.

***

Following the hallway meeting with Mona life slipped back into the old, comfortable, routine. Wendy spent most evenings, and a few nights, at Sam’s place. Often on those evenings, if no one wanted to watch a film, Mona and Katie would Screen Cast a dating app onto the television. Sam and Wendy always joined in, picking out dates for singletons Mona and Katie. 

“What was dating like before us?” Wendy said. 

“Non existent since I came over to the fem side.” Sam laughed “you got yourself a tranny virgin.”

“What was dating like for you Wendy?” Mona asked. It sounded innocent enough but Mona hoped Wendy would reveal some relationship destroying fact and Sam would fall into her waiting arms.

Katie glared at Mona but said nothing.

“Like most girls, I guess, I came to the lonely city, spent my nights looking online and in clubs for someone. Every time I would convince myself this is the one for a week or two.” Wendy snuggled into Sam “then came crash and burn. I know how pathetic and needy I sound.” Wendy paused, no one stepped in to fill the silence “then one day, when I’m taking a break from dating, I meet Sam and here we are.”

“I know, who would have thought friends could become” Sam paused

“Go on what have we become?” Wendy teased.

“I honestly do not know, I mean, you introducing me as your boyfriend would not work.”

“And my girlfriend Sam would be upsetting to some.” Wendy smirked “outed as lesbian or trans - which would you prefer?”

“Does partner sound too much?” Sam looked nervous.

If someone can think on their feet while sitting on a couch then that is what Wendy did 

“Partners works for me, but don’t partners say things like we think.” Sam laughed.

Wendy said  “Could you even imagine us being ‘that’ couple at dinner parties? Sam and I think.”

“Dinner Parties? Are we imagining the 1950s’ now?” Sam said

Well that went well Monas inner voice said. She pretended her iPhone had vibrated “I need to take this.” 

Rather than be odd one out Katie followed Mona into the kitchen to make tea. “Leave the door ajar” Mona whispered. They both knew it was wrong to listen, they listened. In the lounge room, the conversation continued apace.

Wendy: hence forth we are a couple

Sam: does partner sound too business like?

Wendy: we are a couple, here comes my partner now.

Sam: that works.

Wendy: you said couples have plans. What sort?

Sam: for the future, getting a budgerigar, a goldfish, stuff like that.

Wendy: like living together?

Sam: exactly like that.

“What the fuck?” Katie whispered as she picked up the tea tray.

Mona touched her arm “hold on, see where this goes.”

Sam: that sounds so grown up, where would we live.

Wendy: like here or Ivycross?

Sam: which would you choose?

Wendy: I like Ivycross for its vibe.

Wendy: but we like the 10 minuteness of here.

Sam: so, you’re saying here?

Wendy: sure, and we keep Ivycross for leisure.

The teapot had gone stone-cold. Katie sighed, made a fresh pot of tea, and bustled into the lounge room, holding the tray like a peace offering. “What are you guys talking about?” she asked in a curious tone.

“My partner and I…” Wendy began with mock solemnity, but then a giggle slipped out, and she glanced at Sam.

“Wendy and I think - ” Sam started, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. He took a breath, trying to look serious. “What I mean is, we’ve decided to live together.”

Mona raised an eyebrow. “When did you decide that?”

“While you were making tea,” Wendy said casually, lifting her cup. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t hear us talking it over.”

“This is all very sudden…” Katie said slowly, eyeing them both.

“I do have one concern, though,” Wendy said, her tone abruptly serious. She set her mug down, looking at Sam with a faux-intensity that made Katie and Mona lean forward in anticipation.

“You hear these stories,” Wendy continued, lowering her voice. “About crossdressers… and transvestites.”

Mona froze, her lips tightening. Katie’s eyes narrowed, her grip on her mug tightening like she was ready to throw it.

Wendy glanced meaningfully at Sam, who now wore an equally grave expression. “Like, what if I came home,” Wendy said, pausing dramatically, “and found you wearing men’s clothes?” She gasped theatrically. “Like some sort of a reverse crossdressing-tranny!”

Mona looked ready to give Wendy what for, Katie beat her to it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Wendy! One minute you’re all sweet and romantic…”

She didn’t get to finish, Katie’s voice was drowned out by Sam and Wendy braying like a pair of donkeys watching a mongoose-powered merry-go-round. Sam eventually managed to get out five words “This is the best ever…”

Katie glared at them, her face flushed. “You two are impossible.”

“It really is the best ever, better than when I told Katie I spent evenings masturbating in my room.” Sam wheezed, clutching his sides.

“You guys are so easy to freak out!” Wendy finally managed between fits of giggles. “Sam told me I should try saying something really inappropriate. Don’t get me wrong Katie, we only ever do this here.”

Mona crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Great. So we’re your practice audience for inappropriate pranks?”

“Exactly,” Wendy said cheerfully, raising her mug in a mock toast.

Mona waited until she was sure they were alone “that is a big step” 

“Moving in together?” Katie said

“Sudden or what?”

“Is it?” Katie shrugged “when was the last time Sam slept here alone?”

“You are right - we get both or neither! Sam is such a sneak” Mona chuckled “at work and leisure.”

21 - 1407 Skyline

Boxes lined the narrow hallway outside Wendy’s tiny bedsit, stacked precariously and labeled in her loopy handwriting: Books, Clothes, Kitchen stuff, and, inexplicably, Memories. Wendy stood in the centre of the clutter, hands on hips, surveying what was left. “I didn’t realise I owned so much crap,” she muttered, nudging a box with her foot.

Eloise, best friend since university, laughed as she carried a lamp to the door. “You call this crap? Wendy, you have five or six boxes. Who else owns so little?”

“Sam, I mean if you exclude her clothes.” Wendy smirked, shoving another box toward Eloise.

Eloise rolled her eyes but grinned. “Seriously, though, you’re lucky I love you enough to help with this. I hate moving.”

“That is not why you are here Eloise, I wanted you to be the first to see us nesting in our new apartment” Wendy said, grabbing a stack of framed photos from the windowsill. She looked at one briefly, turned it toward Eloise - a picture of herself and Eloise at a summer festival years ago - Wendy smiled and tucked it into the box labeled Memories.

Eloise took a half of vodka from her purse “time for our own little house cooling party.” Wendy looked confused “Housewarming when you move in, house cooling when you move out.” Eloise took a hit straight from the half, passed it to Wendy. The vodka began to soften them nicely.

Eloise leaned back against the wall, cradling the bottle as she eyed Wendy with playful curiosity. “Tell me,” she began, a sly grin spreading across her face, “how you fell for Sam so fast. I mean, I get it - she’s cool as hell - but you were smitten within, what, hours of that new years party?”

Wendy blushed, a little from the vodka, a lot from the question. “I wasn’t smitten that fast,” she protested weakly.

“Oh, please,” Eloise teased. “You called me a day or two after and said, ‘I think I’m in love.’ Three days max, Wendy.”

Wendy groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Okay, fine! BUT you have conveniently forgotten we had been close friends for months. And Sam is perfect-different in ways you can’t see.”

“How so?” Eloise pressed, her grin widening. She passed the vodka back to Wendy. “Spill. I need all the juicy details before we leave this bedsit.”

Wendy hesitated, taking a swig of the vodka to steel herself. “Okay, so... being with Sam is just, uh, how do I even say this without it sounding weird?”

“We’re way past weird,” Eloise said, laughing. “I’ve seen you ugly cry over Love Actually. Just say it.”

Wendy huffed, laughing despite herself. “Fine. It’s like... she understands me in a way I didn’t even realise I needed. Like, emotionally, she just gets it.”

Eloise nodded, intrigued. “Okay, I get that. But what about... y’know...” She wiggled her eyebrows and tongue suggestively.

“Oh my God,” Wendy said, covering her face again. “Eloise!”

“Come on, you opened this door,” Eloise cackled. “Don’t leave me hanging. Is he... good?”

Wendy peeked at her from between her fingers, her cheeks flaming. “Better than good,” she admitted. “It’s like - okay, this is going to sound ridiculous - well, for a start, she doesn’t just assume things, she actually asks what feels good. You know, like when you are with a woman. And it’s not awkward; it’s sexy because she cares.”

Eloise’s eyebrows shot up. “Wendy. You’re making it sound like I’ve been fucking guys with training wheels my whole life. I’m intrigued. Go on.”

Wendy snorted, taking another swig of vodka. “I mean, maybe we both did. Sam’s just... most times Sam is the most perfect lesbian lover and then…” she took a final hit and passed the last hit of vodka back to Eloise “…and then, when I need a man, he fucks me like a whore.”

Eloise sighed dramatically. “Damn it, now I’m jealous.”

Wendy laughed, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s arm. “You’ll find your person. And when you do, I’ll be there, vodka in hand, for your house cooling party.”

She grinned, clinking the bottle against Wendy’s imaginary glass. “Deal, almost done” Eloise said taping up the last box. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. It is so grown up”

“Believe it.” Wendy leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. “1407 Skyline, here we come. Our own little slice of paradise - complete with park view and neighbours who probably talk about us already.”

Eloise chuckled. “They don’t even know you yet.”

“Oh, they do.” Wendy grinned mischievously. “Everyone knows Sam, the only crossdresser in the building.”

Meanwhile, at his old apartment, Sam carried an armful of dresses on hangers to the elevator. Packing would be overkill for the move from 1203 to 1407 Skyline Building.

*** 

While Sam, Wendy, and Eloise unpacked two floors above, Mona and Katie sat at the small kitchen table in their one-third empty apartment, finishing up lunch. Warm afternoon sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the room, but it did little to lift the mood.

Katie poked at her salad, glancing around the apartment. “It feels so empty now, doesn’t it?”

Mona nodded, her eyes fixed on her glass of water. 

Katie smiled softly but noticed the way Mona’s shoulders sagged. “You miss them already? I know I do.”

Mona hesitated. “Uh huh” 

Katie chuckled gently. “And the quiet? It’s deafening. Wendy was such a noisy minx in the sack.”

Mona blinked, startled, before letting out a soft laugh. “Katie!”

“What?” Katie said, grinning. “You know it’s true.”

Mona shook her head,  “you are completely impossible.”

Katie reached over and took Mona’s hand, her grin fading to a softer expression. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve still got me.”

Mona squeezed her hand, her laughter subsiding into sniffles. “Thanks, Katie.”

***

Sam and Wendy unpacked their final box. “Do you think this is really the last one?” Sam asked.

“If it’s not, I’m burning the rest of my stufff. No roommates! Come…” Wendy patted the sofa “it must be snuggle o’clock.” 

21 - Old Friends

Wendy had been suggesting a housewarming party, Sam counter suggested a dinner party “we could use caterers, you get to take credit for the food.”

Wendy liked that idea, for later. She counter, counter suggested a housewarming for Engelbrekt’s friends “that way I get to know all your secrets.”

“I am sure you know all of my secrets, you FaceTime with Emily often enough.” Keen to show the Blackwood Hill crowd how grown up he had become Sam instantly agreed - before considering the two year plan. He still needed to find the ‘right’ moment.

Two years still had enough weeks left to run that it was not urgent enough to spoil the dinner party. And two years, twenty-four months, one hundred-four weeks was not set in stone - Sam had wiggle room if he ran a little over the deadline.

"You nervous?" Wendy asked.

“Not really.” Sam smiled faintly. “Okay, yes, a little terrified even, It’s just been a while since I’ve seen everyone. And Emily, well…”

Wendy squeezed his hand. "I’m looking forward to actually meeting the woman who set you on this path.”

Emily and David were the first to arrive, her auburn hair swept into an elegant chignon, her warm smile as familiar to Sam as ever. She pulled him into a tight hug before stepping back to take Wendy’s hand.

"Wendy," Emily said, her eyes twinkling. “nice to finally meet the real you."

Wendy laughed. “Face to face sure beats FaceTime, hands down."

"Of course," Emily replied.

Soon the rest of the guests, including Engelbrekt’s old roommate Adrian, arrived by the elevator load. 

"Engelbrekt!" Adrian teased pulling Sam into a hug.

“Adrian, enough with the dead naming" Sam replied with a laugh.

"Old habits," Adrian said with a cheeky grin just as boyfriend Matthew joined him. 

During the evening Wendy discreetly glanced at Emily and David, so happy together they could not hide it even after so many years together. Wendy briefly daydreamed about her and Sam’s future.  Snapping back into the moment Wendy said “Emily, tell me something about Sam, something only you know.” 

"So," Emily began, casting a sly glance at Sam. "Did Sam ever tell you about the time I took him shopping for his first jeans and sneakers?"

Wendy leaned forward, intrigued. "No, but I want to hear everything!"

Sam groaned, covering his face. "Oh no, Wendy does not need to hear this Emily."

Emily grinned. "Engelbrekt was so excited and, at the same time, absolutely terrified. We spent an hour finding the perfect ones, then he panicked and tried to convince the cashier they were a birthday gift for his ‘girlfriend.' "

The table erupted in laughter, and Wendy shook her head, amused. "Let me guess," Wendy said, "the cashier didn’t buy it?"

“Not for a second," Emily replied. "But to his credit, he owned it eventually. Just look at my apprentice now.” Emily leant over, gave Sam’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Wendy turned to Emily. “You did an incredible job of helping my Sam become who she is.”

Emily smiled warmly, her eyes soft as she looked at Sam. "I didn’t do much Wendy, honestly. I just lit the fuse and stood back.”

***

After the meal everyone chatted, some with coffee, some with brandy, people who had not met in a while caught up on the news. “So, Sam" David began, "what’s the current status of the plan?” 

Emily discretely gave Wendy a wink, waved her hand at David as if shooing a worrisome dog into its basket. “David, stop being solicitor-nosy for one night and let everyone relax.”

"It’s okay, Emily.” Sam lied, David had thrown him under a whole line of buses. Sam cursed himself for not telling Wendy - he’d had so many chances!

Wendy and Emily momentarily glanced at each other, only Emily noticed Wendy’s discreet, lopsided, half smile. An air of tension filled the room.

"The plan?” Wendy air quoted, raised an eyebrow. “What plan is that Sam?”

Sam swallowed audibly “my plan to live as Sam for two years, then go back to being Engelbrekt.”

Wendy rolled her eyes dramatically, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh, p-l-ease! You have as much chance of changing back as a butterfly has of turning back into a caterpillar.”

***

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