This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.

Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.

If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie. I will always welcome contact.

tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk

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5.

The service the next day went really well, the choir was now up to eight, and the volume was noticeably increased. I was interested to see that Mike's pep talk on the last evening had managed to persuade one or two stray sheep back to the fold.

We had a very relaxed day, and felt much refreshed when we were dropped off at the college.

I immediately called a certain mobile phone.

“Hi?”

“Hi Steve.”

“Emma?”

“Who else?”

“Wow, hang on, I'm in the car, just let me pull over,” he said.

There was a bit of background noise, and then he was back.

“Okay, I'm safer now. Thanks for calling back, I wasn't sure that you would.”

“Oh yeah? How many girls do you kiss and they never call?” I asked.

There was silence.

“Steve?”

“I'm here. Thanks for calling. What is your number there?”

I gave him the number.

“Look, let me get home, and I'll ring you. Ten minutes, tops,” he said.

“Okay.”

Eight minutes later, the phone rang.

“Hi, Emma?”

“I'm sorry Miss Pearson is cleaning the latrines,” I said in an old woman voice.

“Sorry?” said a baffled Steve.

“It's me, you daft brush,” I said.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Invest in some better sights,” I said.

He laughed. “Are you ever serious?”

“Oh yes. But get real, we've only met once, and that was yesterday.”

“I can't explain it, I have thought about you all day, and most of last night too, if I'm honest,” he said. I felt rather humble to have affected him that hard. I couldn't think of anything funny to say.

“Emma. Are you still there?”

“I'm here, I couldn't think of anything funny to say.”

“Thanks for last night,” he said.

“You're welcome. You are a great kisser.”

“How many have you had?”

“Including you?”

“Including me.”

“One.”

“Never!”

“One. I don't lie, at least not about things like that,” I said.

“How come?”

“It's a long story, sufficient to say, I have had a different life, and I could be described as a late developer. If we get to know each other really well, then I may tell you, but just accept that for now,” I told him.

“If it's any consolation, you are a pretty good kisser yourself.”

“It's all in the hormones.”

“What?”

“As soon as you kissed me, I had a rush of who knows what, if I hadn't stopped, who knows where we would have ended up.”

“So you felt something too?”
“Something like that.”

“I'll see you on Friday, what sort of movies do you like?” he asked.

“I don't mind.”

“How about food, what is your favourite?”

“You've seen me eat, and you have to ask that?” I asked.

He laughed, “How are you with chopsticks?”

“Awesome. But I have had no fatalities, yet,” I said.

“Why are you so different?”

“Just to be difficult. Do you know where the college is?” I asked him.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I'll be free from about five o'clock onwards.”

“Okay, I'll be there at about five. Can you ring me, anytime?” he asked.

“Why? So we can have another moronic conversation?”

“Because I love to hear your voice,” he said.

“You are a soppy sod. Okay, I'll ring, but don't expect long conversations, I am really skint.”

“I'll ring you straight back, you just ring my mobile for three rings, and I'll know it's you,” he said.

“Okay, Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, and tried to analyse what I felt. He made me want to smile, I enjoyed hearing his voice, and I really enjoyed teasing him. I thought that he felt rather more for me that I did for him. I would have to watch it, as I felt he was getting too serious too quickly. But, deep down, I knew that he meant something to me too.

The week went quickly, and I worked hard. I was really enjoying the course, and there wasn't a class I disliked. I found all the staff were dedicated, talented and enjoyed their subjects. I got on really well with the other students, and Gwen was right, it was a family atmosphere. Steve rang me every evening at about eight.

I really enjoyed drama, and in our little sessions, I really went at it. I found it easy to pretend to be someone, or something I wasn't. Probably because I had spent much of my life doing just that. One of the boys in our year was a rather shy boy called Mark Williams. He was quite a gangly guy, although he was only 5'6”, he was very slim. However, although he was an amazing dancer, he was too introverted to get into drama. I liked partnering him in the dance class, as he had a natural flowing rhythm.

I was curled up in a large leather armchair in the library on the Thursday evening, I used to spend lots of time in the library, as I wasn't a great TV fan, and it was the one place I could get real peace and quiet. I heard the door open, but I was so engrossed in my book, I didn't even look up.

“Emma, I'm sorry to bother you.”

I looked up, and Mark was standing looking really forlorn in front of me.

“Hi, Mark. What's the problem?” I asked.

He looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

I put my book down, and pointed to the chair next to mine.

“Hey, Markie, sit down. What's up?”

Mark sat on the arm of the chair, and seemed to be trying hard to control himself.

I leaned over and put my hand on his arm.

“Hey, this is me, you don't have to hold back, just let it out,” I said.

The tears started, just sort of falling from his eyes, and he struggled to stop them.

I stood up, and put my arm around him, and then the sobs started. He put his face against my shoulder and sobbed his heart out. I just held him, and let him cry. He cried for ages, many minutes, and gradually the sobs slowed down, as he ran out of steam.

He lifted his head from my shoulder. His eyes were all red and blotchy.

I saw my jumper was rather damp.

“Now look what you've done,” I said, and he gave a weak smile.

“Okay, Mark, tell aunty Emma all about it.”

“I can't,” he said.

“Course you can. If you bottle it up, you'll go pop,” I said.

“You don't understand, I can't tell this to anyone.” He almost started to cry again.

I began to get an inkling of what he felt. I don't know why, but I actually felt I could recognise something in him, that I, as Russell, had. Now, I knew that he wasn't openly gay, we had two gay guys who made no secret of their status, and were good fun, if a little over the top at times. Mark would tend to seek out one of us girls to spend time with, but most of the time, he was rather a loner. He was seventeen, and I knew very little about him.

“Okay, Mark. It is time to face your demons, and I want you to trust me. I promise that whatever you tell me, will remain strictly between you and me. But first I want to ask you some questions, and these will show you why you can trust me, Okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay, you are a well spoken lad, with a good education. You went to public school, right?”

He nodded.

“You loathed every minute, and you were picked on, for being quiet, not into rugger and the macho side of life. Right?”

He nodded.

“Your parents love you dearly, and you felt you let them down, you've probably got an elder brother, who was always really good at everything, right?”

“How did you….?” He started to say. I held my hand up.

“Just bear with me, okay? Your dad wanted you to stick in there, but something happened and you left. I don't want to know, but your mum probably insisted that you left, and she found this place. Am I any where near the mark?”

“Spot on. How did you know?” he asked.

“Lets just say I once knew someone very well who suffered life in a similar way,” I said.

“I nearly took my own life. I tried to hang myself with my dressing gown cord,” he said. Then he looked at me. “I have never told anyone that.”

“Thank you Mark, for trusting me. I will ask you one question, and if I am way off, then tell me, and I do not want to offend you. Okay?” I held his hand.

“Okay.”

“I believe that it has a lot to do with who you are. Or rather, who you wish you were. Now I believe that you aren't gay, but it relates to your sexuality. Mark, do you feel that you should have been born as a girl?” I asked.

He looked at me for several seconds, and the tears welled up, once more. He looked at his free hand, and nibbled his nails. Then he looked at me again.

“Does it show?” he asked.

“No, not to most people. But then, I'm not most people. How long have you felt like this?” I asked him.

“As long as I can remember, certainly since I was about six or so. I thought it would go as I got older. At times, it seems less intense, but not a day goes by without me thinking about it. I have never been able to tell anyone before,” he said, and let out a big sigh.

“You are not alone, Mark, lots of people suffer the same thing, and some can control it and even suppress it. For others, they have to do something about it. For a few the only answer is to take their own lives, and others turn to drink or drugs. But if dealt with properly, one can achieve a normal life, free of the old worries,” I said.

“I used to think that I was gay, but it had nothing to do with being attracted to other guys. Then I thought that I was a transvestite, and I would get a thrill from dressing up as a girl, but the guilt crippled me. It wasn't the clothes; it was looking like, and being a girl. I see you, and some of the other girls, and I just want to be like you. I hate myself, and I don't know if I can take it much longer,” he said.

“Does your mother suspect?” I asked.

“Probably. I think she knows I dressed up in her clothes.”

“And your dad?”

He shook his head.

“What would their reaction be?” I asked.

“I don't know. My mum would probably be pretty good, but I don't know about dad.”

“Mark, imagine for a moment that you are a father of two sons. The elder is a fine chap, a real go-getter. The younger is sensitive, intelligent, but rather a wimp compared to his brother. They were brought up the same way, with equal love, and in the same schools. But the younger boy is so unhappy, that he tries to kill himself. Bang, no reason, just goes ahead and tries. Luckily, he doesn't succeed. How would you feel?”

“I would feel responsible, I would want to know why, what we had done to make him that unhappy. I would want to help him.”

“Don't you think that your dad would feel just that?” I asked.

He looked at me; his great big eyes started brimming with tears again. He nodded. I squeezed his hand.

I said nothing; it was not my place to tell him how to take the next step. I had had a miraculous intervention, and although I could recommend that prayer could work for Mark, it had to come from him. I had no guarantees.

“It's easy for you, you've always been a girl.”

I just looked at him.

“Don't assume anything, life is never easy,” I said. I so nearly told him the truth, but I knew the dangers were just too great. Besides there was no point building hope only to dash it.

“I'm sorry. Do you think I have to tell my parents?”

“I don't think anything, you have got to weigh up your circumstances. If you don't tell them, what will happen?” I asked.

“My life will go on, and I will just get more unhappy. I suppose.”

“Yeah, and there are lots of dressing gown cords,” I said. He nodded.

“And if you tell them, what is the worst that can happen?”

“I don't know, I could get thrown out.”

“In which case, what would stop you taking the necessary steps to make whatever transition you wanted to?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me honestly, is it likely they would chuck you out?”

He shook his head. “They would be embarrassed.”

“And having a son who attempts suicide is not embarrassing then?” I asked.

“I never thought of it like that,” he admitted, with a sad little smile.

“So you are telling me, that the only thing that stands in the way of you seeking some sort of change, is your parents?” I asked.

He nodded.

“If they throw you out, you could change, right?”

“Yes.”

“I they love and support you, you could still change, and keep them in your life. Right?” I asked.

“I suppose. They could try to get me treated.”

“Okay, so they take you to a shrink. What two avenues are left?”

“It works, and I no longer feel like this. Or I feel the same.”

“If you are cured, then there is no longer any problem. But if you feel the same?”

“I go for a change,” he said.

“So what do you think you should do?”

“Tell my parents?”

“Don't ask me. Tell me what you should do,” I asked.

“I should tell my parents.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to tell my parents, Emma,” he said, determination seeping into his voice.

“When Mark, when will you tell them?” I asked.

He looked at me, and shrugged.

I squeezed his hand.

“How long do you want to be miserable for?” I asked.

“I'd like it to stop now.”

“Then when are you going to tell them?”

“You're not suggesting I tell them now?” he asked me, horrified.

“I'm not suggesting anything. I just want to know how long you want this all to drag on?” I said.

“But if I call them and tell them now, ……” He trailed off. “What will I say?” he asked.

“Tell the truth. Tell them why you are unhappy; tell them why you tried to kill yourself, and that it was not their fault at all. Tell them you love them and that you want their help and support through whatever has to come. Just be you,” I said, and my heart went out to him.

“And Mark, pray. Pray like you have never prayed before. You would be amazed how prayer can help,” I said.

“Emma?”

“What?”

“Can you be with me when I call them?” he asked.

“Sure. Now?”

“Now,” he said. He stood up.

“Thanks Emma. I mean it, thanks.”

“You haven't done anything yet, let's wait and see what happens,” I said.

We left the library, and went to the pay phone. He lifted the receiver. He stopped and hesitated.

“Do you want me to push the buttons?” I asked.

He shook his head. He put the money in, and pushed the buttons. He looked at me, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he was shaking. I held his hand.

“Hello Mum,” he said. “It's me, Mark.”

“No, I'm fine.”

I squeezed his hand.

“Well actually I'm not exactly fine. I need to tell you some things, and this is very hard for me.”

“No, just listen. I really need you to just listen. I don't know how to say these things, but here goes anyway.

“I need to tell you first that I love you both very much, and through everything that has happened, that has never changed. But you need to know that from the outset. I tried to kill myself because I was unhappy. I was unhappy because of me, and not you or anyone or anything else. Oh God, this is so hard.

”I am still unhappy, and I am unhappy because of what I am. Oh. MUM. I just want to be a girl. I am trapped in a body and a life that I hate. I have always known this, and I have always wanted to be a girl. I have tried, so hard, to be a good son, but I can't try any longer. I am just so tired. What am I going to do?” He sat on the floor, and I just held his hand.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then I heard his mother respond with the best words that he could have heard.

“Oh Mark, just know that we love you, and we can get through this together. I am just so glad that you have told us, we were going insane trying to work out what was so wrong.”

Mark collapsed, and couldn't speak. He dropped the telephone, and I caught it.

I heard, “Hello? Hello? Mark?”

“Hello, Mrs Williams, my name is Emma. I am Mark's friend, and I'm afraid he is a little upset, right now. He was so afraid that you would hate him for what he had to tell you, and as you haven't it has all become a bit much,” I told her.

“Did he tell you?” she asked me.

“Not really, I sort of guessed, and we talked though his best options. He has been unhappy for so long, I just thought, for his sake, that he should bite the bullet. I'm sorry that it had to come by phone, but it took a while to get him to build up the courage to call,” I said.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear him tell us why. His father has almost had a breakdown over it. He has blamed himself.”

“I thought he might have done. I think you ought to call Gwen, and come and pick him up. He really needs an awful lot of love, right now,” I said.

“I'll do that. And Emma?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are an angel,” she said.

“Hardly, but I will stay with him until you get here,” I said. I hung up the phone, and sat on the floor next to Mark.

He was crumpled where he sat, with his elbows on his raised knees and his face on his arms, just sobbing gently, mainly through relief. This young guy had just been through over ten years of hell, his worst fears were shot away, and all his demons were dispersed. He now had to face his future, with love and support, instead of bottling everything up.

We sat on the wooden floor for nearly half an hour, and my bum was getting numb. Gwen came down the corridor, and to my surprise sat on the floor next to Mark. She smiled at me, and put her arm around Mark.

“Okay, Mark, what do you say to going somewhere a little more comfortable?” she said.

Mark raised his head a little, and looked at her, more than a little surprised. He looked at me, and then back at Gwen.

“Your parents will be here in about twenty minutes. Let's get you a little more with it, all right?” she said.

We helped him get up, and we went to Gwen's sitting room. He refused to let go of my hand, so we sat on the sofa together.

Gwen just sat and smiled at him. He was looking rather sheepish, and he kept shaking his head. I knew that he was hearing his mother say, “we love you.” over and over again.

At last, the doorbell rang, and Gwen motioned me to stay with him. She got up and went to answer it herself. She did everything so elegantly and gracefully. I was to remember this, and whenever I felt like panicking, I would think how Gwen would do it, and try to emulate her.

I heard voices in the hall, and after a couple of minutes the door opened and Gwen returned with a couple, who had to be Mark's parents. His mother smiled a little uncertainly at me, but his dad's face was ashen. I honestly thought he was going to have a heart attack or something. I let go of Mark's hand, and allowed his mother to take my place. He immediately hugged her, and they both burst into tears. His father went on his knees and joined them. Gwen and I left very quietly.

We went to the kitchen and I made us both a cup of tea. Gwen asked me no questions, and said very little. We drank our tea, and I made another pot and put three cups on a tray, with some milk and sugar.

We went back to the sitting room, and found them talking in hushed voices.

I put the tray on the table, and was about to leave.

“Emma, please stay,” said Gwen.

“Mr and Mrs Williams. Emma has made some tea, and I think it would be just the thing to get you focussed,” she said.

I poured the tea, and I handed them round, even Mark took a cup.

I sat down near the door.

“Now, I only know what you told me on the telephone. Emma has not told me anything, and I haven't asked her. I believe I have a fair idea as to what has happened, and I accept that your immediate action is to have some time together. Mark has to come to certain decisions, and we need to be kept in the loop. All I will say is that his place here is secure, should he wish to return to us. Moreover, indeed, however he wishes to return to us. Please let us know what you decide.”

They drank their tea, and I could see that Mr Williams was looking considerably better. He took Mark to his room to collect some things, and Mrs Williams came over to where I sat. I stood up.

“Mark told us how you helped him. Thank you,” she said.

“Mark knew what he had to do, he just needed persuading to do it,” I said.

“Well thank you for persuading him. We now have our child back.”

“Take care of him, he is still hurting,” I said.

“Oh, we will,” She looked at Gwen, who simply smiled at her.

“I really don't know where to go from here,” she admitted.

“One step at a time,” said Gwen. “And always with love.”

I heard them coming down the stairs. We went into the hall, and Mr Williams came over to me.

“Thank you Emma, for being there for him. You've been a good friend.” He then kissed my cheek.

Mrs Williams just hugged me, and Mark threw his arms around me and started crying again.

“Thanks, Emma, I don't think I could have gone on without you,” he said.

“Go on, and good luck. I'll pray for you. Keep in touch,” I said, and they left.

I watched them go, and became aware that Gwen was watching me.

“You are a very complex girl, Emma Pearson,” she said.

“I'm sorry?” I said, genuinely confused.

“Your capacity to care is wonderful, but exactly where does all that wisdom come from in one so young?” she asked.

I smiled, “I've been to places that most people never get to go,” I said, as enigmatically as I could. To my surprise, she laughed and clapped her hands.

“Oh. Bravo. What a wonderful line. Emma, you are priceless, I am so glad that Michael brought you to us.”

I had to laugh with her.

“You've had a rough evening, go and get some rest. I know you won't mention any of this to anyone. I will announce that he had some family problems, and we will let them sort them out. Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight Gwen,” I said, and went up to my room.

It was about eight o'clock as I approached my room, and the payphone rang. I answered it.

“Could I speak to Emma please?” Came Steve's voice.

“I'm sorry she was arrested early this afternoon for impersonating a human, she is being extradited to Mars tomorrow,” I said, in a silly voice.

“Hi Em, you are a fool,” he said, laughing.

“It takes one to know one,” I said.

“I accept that.”

“How are you?” I asked.

“I'm good. I'm really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,” he said. I realised that I was looking forward to seeing him.

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Have you asked anyone to the gig, yet?”
“Yes, about six say they are coming, and I was going to phone a girl friend who works in MK,” I said, just remembering Pam from the makeup counter.

“I think there will be quite a few coming.”
“Good. Are we going to get a chance to rehearse?” I asked.

“Yes, if we get together on Saturday afternoon, we have the hall from noon to set up. We can go through our numbers, and if you need any words, we have all the songbooks.”

“That sounds fine. You aren't expecting me to sing every number, are you?”

“No, you can sing whatever you want to, either as main vocalist or as backing. If you have any other girls interested in backing, then they are welcome. To be honest, all you have to do is look gorgeous, and that'll do the trick.”

I laughed, as he was a real soppy sod.

“I love your laugh,” he said.

“Stop getting soppy on me.”

“I'm sorry. It really isn't like me. I just can't stop thinking about you.”

“Steve, you've only met me once, for goodness sakes.”

“Yeah, and it's changed my life.”

“My God. Steve, get real on me, I'm very flattered, but you don't know me.”

“Maybe not, but I'd like to, if you'll let me?”

I couldn't help laughing again.

“I'll see you tomorrow, at five. Sleep well, lover boy.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, and went to my room and found Pam's phone number. I went and phoned her. She was surprised and pleased to hear from me, and was thrilled to hear about the gig. She was working on Saturday morning, but was free for the rest of the day. She said she would persuade her ‘dweeb' to drive her down to it, and that she would try to get a couple of mates along too.

I went back to my room, and Sheri popped her head round the door.

“Hi Em. What happened with Mark, earlier? I heard that he's gone home with his parents.”

“Some sort of personal crisis or something,” I said.

“Someone said that you sat with him for hours, and he was very upset,” she said.

“Yup. I did, and he was. I can't tell you any more at the mo, Sheri. It's just I promised to say nothing. Just let's say, he wasn't a happy bunny, and hopefully, things may get better for him,” I said.

Sheri sat next to me on my bed.

“He was a funny bloke. I never really got to know him,” she said.

“I don't think he let anyone get to know him, and now I know him better, I can understand why.”

“Are you still doing this gig on Saturday?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, why?”

“My dad phoned, he's got to do some unexpected business in London, and he won't get out until Sunday. So I was wondering, is there any chance I could come along?”

“Great. Of course. I only had old Stevie on the phone a few minutes ago, and he was asking whether any of the girls wanted to come and sing. This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain drummer, would it?” I asked, and she reddened and smiled.

“Has daddy really got work to do?”

“Oh, yes, but he would be finished by 3pm, so I thought, why not?” She smiled.

I laughed.

“Have you heard from him?” I asked.

“He phoned me yesterday. I called him today,” she admitted. “How about Steve?”

“Oh, he calls me every day, and I think the poor sap thinks he is in love,” I said.

“What do you feel for him?”

I shrugged. I thought a moment.

“He makes me laugh, I like that. He kisses well, and I really like that. I don't know Sheri, it's all a bit sudden, and I've a lot on my plate at the moment. I don't really want to get too serious with anyone yet,” I said.

“I think he's very sexy. And you look good together, you are both tall and fair,” Sheri said.

“Stop pairing us off,” I laughed at her.

She laughed as well.

“You do feel something for him,” she teased.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But it is still too early.”

“When are you seeing him?”

“He's picking me up from college, and we are going out for a meal and a movie.”

“Are you staying the night with him, then?”

“Sheri, no, I am not. He lives in the same village, so he will drop me off when we go back. Honestly, what do you think I'm like?” I asked.

She shrugged, “You give the impression of being very worldly. How old are you, anyway?”

“I'm only sixteen, and I am not worldly at all,” I admitted.

“No? You are older than that, with your figure and the way you walk and talk, I thought you were about eighteen?” she said.

I shook my head, “I must have had a rough life,” I said.

“What movie are you going to see?”

“I don't know, I guess we'll chose one when we get there. Why do you fancy coming too?”

“Yes, but only if Dave can come.”

“Dave? Is that the Drummer?”

She nodded.

“Why don't you call him, but make sure he speaks to Steve, he may have other plans,” I suggested

“Okay.” She grinned, and went to make the call.

I repainted my toenails while I waited.

Sheri returned all bouncy.

“He was with Steve when I called. They are happy to make it a foursome. Isn't that great?” she said.

I was a little relieved, as I got the impression that Steve may try to come on a bit strong. He was nearly twenty, and his expectations may be rather more than I was prepared to deliver. I didn't want to send the wrong signals, and I didn't want to drive him away. Being a girl was rather more difficult than I had first imagined. Particularly when dealing with boys.

Sheri stayed, and we both did our nails. She noticed that I didn't have my ears pierced, and suggested that we go and get them done on Saturday morning. I agreed, and I mentioned that Pam might be able to give us both a makeover.

Sheri left me, and I went to bed. It was so lovely going to bed happy, but I wondered what my darling mother was up to.

Tanya Allen

© 5 December 2004