...As long as I can remember people had remarked how with my pretty face,slight build and general demeanor I should have been a girl. After myparents had died in a car accident, I now lived with my glamorous youngaunt Charlotte who was a business woman who owned a chain of upscalefashion boutiques. Now, being a hormonal 16 year old adolescent, I wasfascinated by her totally glamorous and sexualized way of dressing.Always wearing the highest of heels possible, tight satin dresses, alwaysperfectly made up and with fabulous hair, she was a teenager's wet dreampersonified. I kinda idolized her. In hindsight I should say that mysentiment was somewhere between lust and 'wanting to be like her' but Ididn't quite realize that untill much later.Which brings me to my one small vice. You see, after being told how muchI looked like a girl so often, one day I decided to see for myself. Soafter my aunt went out one evening, I snuck into her room to try on someof my beautifull aunty's gorgeous. ’ I felt his eyes on me. He had to know that I was all nerves. ‘And you, are even more of a lady than when I left ye.’ I stood up, now away from the door. I felt suddenly aware of myself, standing there, stuffed inside my fine gown. Perfectly pinned and painted to be beautiful. To be a flower. I was also aware that he saw straight through it, down to my skin and my bones and my heart. He stood, and took as many steps as to shorten the distance between us by half. ‘Will you not come to me?’ I didn’t make a move. He took a handful of steps closer with his incredibly long legs. He stood close enough for me to reach out and touch. Something that I never would have guessed I would be capable of doing again. ‘I cannot stand it, Charlotte, I need you.’ And I stepped forward, I closed the gap between us and exhaled in a futile attempt to release the pressure in my head, and in my chest. It did not help, for I then inhaled him and nearly crumpled at his feet. My chest was so close to his.
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