Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2014 07:39:57 +0000
From: H'eidi Eros <thothtarot@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Sarah Night and the Fawn Princess Part 5 (TG)

Copyright .. blah blah blah .. I own all, submit to me! (except all the
pop culture references and people I don't yet own .. they belong to
themselves and eternity!)
Don't read this if you are offended by depictions of girls who might be
boys and pleasure they find in each other's company. (Even if that
pleasure is just an ice cream and a damn good 'put the world to rights'
conversation!)
Feedback, should you feel you really want to talk to me about this ..
thothtarot@hotmail.co.uk
Donate: Why haven't you done this already? We are at part 5 and it would
do some real good in keeping us happy and free xx



        Claire shook us awake gently at the promised time. Though we had
probably not had more than 20 minutes sleep I felt rested and refreshed.
I got undressed from my Gypsy Princess self and became Lee again. Makeup
now always the first part of my other self to be removed. The only thing
I took with me was the leather shoulder bag. It wasn't unisex by any
stretch of the imagination, but I decided to just be a boy who carried a
girl's bag. Maybe if I just slowly changed an item at a time into my new
identity nobody would be any the wiser? Yes, well those are the sorts of
ideas that filter through your brain at moments like that. It was
completely unrealistic, but comforting.
I put my ALIAS Comics in my bag. and got ready to walk back to the family
caravan. Claire and Sarah changed clothes as well. We bid Chris and
Elaine a cheerful goodbye and walked off. Inside I really wasn't
following my compass of inner peace. It wasn't pointed to an evening with
my parents. We wouldn't be able to talk about the things that were going
around in my head or Sarah's head. Probably not even Claire's head. It
was going to be a social minefield I worried. Awkward pauses and issues
avoided. As we rounded the corner toward the last stretch up toward my
families caravan I hoped secretly that Dad had cancelled the idea of
dinner and a note would be pinned the door saying "Emergency, had to
drive home with Mum and Ryan. See you in a couple of days." I recognised
this unlikely fantasy for what it was.. just something to keep my feet
moving toward dinner.
"You aren't comfortable with this, are you?" Claire said.
"To put it mildly, no." I replied.
"Imagine how much fun the big family meeting is going to be. Your parents
and our parents .." Sarah said. "Then enjoy this one for the light
hearted fun festival it will no doubt be." I made a tiny noise like a
gerbil.
"I find your lack of optimism ... disturbing!" Claire said in the best
Darth Vader voice she could managed.
"I wish I was the Time Prince, able to go back 10 minutes in time." I
said.
"Surely you would rather be the Time Princess?" Claire helpfully pointed
out.
"That is one of things my heart is heavy about ... I am getting
frustrated about the time I have to spend as Lee now. Which I know I
shouldn't. If we had spent this evening with your folks, I could have
remained Leela, now I'm back in jeans and tee shirt." I moaned.
"Hey, I am in jeans and tee shirt!" Claire said, which was true. "You got
to learn to carry your gender choice in your heart, Leela, not draped
around your hips." she pointed out wisely.
"See, she can go from being Darth Vader to Obi Wan Kenobi in a heart
beat." Sarah said. We could see my parent's now, fussing around the car
and pulling out supermarket carrier bags full of something out from the
back seat. They must have been shopping. My Mum spots us and waves.
"HELLO!" she calls out. We chorus a variety of 'hi' and 'hello's back at
her.
"Have you had a great day?" mum asks, giving Claire a "I never forget a
face, Mr Chekhov" stare.
"Yes, it was great." I reply. "Mum, this is Sarah and this is Claire, her
sister."
"Hello again, Sarah," she beams "and Claire, you seem familiar?"
"I believe it was because I gave your younger son a comic in Mevagissey
this morning. He came over to chat to me." Claire explained.
"I thought it was you." She said. "Thank you again. He has read it
continuously all afternoon and now I know more about 23rd Century Canine
Warfare than any other mother on the planet."
"You are welcome." Claire said "And I'm sorry my gift made the afternoon
a bit Puppies of War filled for you."
"It made a change from discussing Turtles with him." My dad appeared from
the caravan and gave us a wave. We went through the introductions again
for his benefit.
"Good grief, he is inside reading that thing again." Dad said, "Ryan,
your new friend is here for dinner!" There was a confused grunt from
inside and then Ryan's head appeared at the door.
"Army girl!" he cried and jumped down the two steel steps. "That comic is
so cool ... dogs with guns!"
"If it is okay with your mum and dad, I brought some other issues along
for you!"  Claire said, making a friend for life with Ryan. Dad said
something like 'fine fine!' and mum waved her acceptance in hand
gestures. Claire fished out the comics and Ryan immediately began to
devour them.
"So, fish and chips okay with all of you?" Mum asked. "Sorry it isn't a
restaurant, but we just fancied sitting on the harbour wall and watching
the sun set with chips."
"Sounds lovely," Sarah said.
"I'm not a fan of formal dining" said Claire.
"That settles it then, back we all go to Mevagissey for the second time
today." Mum said. In my head I'm wondering if Mum knew it was me sat
beside Claire in Mevagissey. It was a distance and I was hiding behind
the comic. She leans in and hugs me and whispers "See you've changed for
dinner, thank you." and I know she knows.

We pile into the car. It is a bit of squeeze. Ryan insists on sitting
next to Claire. She is his heroine of the holiday we quickly discover.
Sarah and I crush in together, which is very pleasant. Mum keeps up a
cheery chit chat all the way to Mevagissey car park. The park is
depressingly full, which means the town itself will be. We take a back
road down from the car and discover a new road of craft places and shops.
Some of them are still open, taking advantage of the early evening trade.
I take the bold move of holding Sarah's hand and announcing to the family
as a whole that we are more than friends. My dad spots it but doesn't say
a word. Ryan only has eyes for Claire. Mum already knows, so I don't scan
for her reaction.

We reach the harbour and discover the reason for the full car park. A
brass band are playing on the Quayside. People have clustered around the
band, making them difficult to see, but their sound is more than audible.
We queue at the fish and chip shop and get our dinner. There isn't a
single bench that isn't full. We end up sat in a line on the edge of the
quay, dangling our legs over the side. The seagulls take an instant
interest in our dinner, so eating isn't a leisurely process. We stuff
chips into ourselves and guard our polystyrene trays like they are the
crown jewels. It turns dinner into a competition that is both funny and
frustrating in equal measures. Conversation is a little cramped while we
eat. Another family arrives and they find it hilarious for a short time
to throw chips at the gulls, causing great excitement and moving the
centre of attention away from us.

After our chips we walk along the harbour side. Claire and Ryan scout
ahead, no doubt looking for bunkers filled with mutant soldiers to smoke
out. Mum and Dad drift along behind them, laughing and holding hands. I
don't remember seeing mum and dad holding hands in public before. Have
they always done it and I've just never noticed I wonder. Or has this
holiday and finding someone I want to hold hands with suddenly made me
sensitive to subtle touches of affection that I've been oblivious to
before? Sarah and I wander along behind. I slide an arm around her
shoulder and she secures my waist as her own. We Steal kisses from each
other like seagulls bobbing in for chips or crown jewels.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, suddenly conscious we not really spoken in
minutes.
"I'm fine, just really happy and relaxed." she answers. "I was worried
about this evening, but your mum and dad are doing their best to make us
feel part of the family."
"I think they want to adopt Claire, or at least employ her as a
childminder!" I laugh.
The outer harbour is much quieter than the inner one, though we can still
hear the sounds of the brass band. My dad suggests getting ice creams for
desert and the idea is greeted with universal acceptance. We load each
cone of soft whip Cornish ice cream and get a bizarre amount of extras,
chocolate flakes, sprinkles, brightly coloured sauces of raspberry and
chocolate. Eating them has to be done quickly, and not because of the
gulls. The warm evening makes the ice cream run off in crazy rivulets of
sweetness. We end up constantly licking the cones to prevent getting
hands sticky with ice cream. It is indigestion inducing speed eating, but
so much fun. Afterwards we sit with hands feeling disgusting ... a mix of
chip grease and ice cream coating us. Only on holiday would you allow
yourself the freedom to do this.
"I wish someone had thought on to pack wet wipes!" Dad moans. I am
suddenly aware my bag contains a fresh bail of them .. bought with Mum's
£5 note.
"I've got some!" I announce and swing my shoulder bag around, aware of
it's gender challenging nature as I become centre of attention. "Dah
darrrr!" I trumpet, offering Mum first dips at pulling out a handful of
non scented. We clean up our faces and hands, then send Ryan and Claire
to find a waste bin for the small pile of wipes we've generated. They
accept the mission Puppy of War style, aware of possible enemy presence
around the waste bin.
"That is an interesting bag you've got?" Dad says as Ryan and Claire run
off. I feel Sarah stir beside me and wonder if she is going to jump in
and claim it is hers. I quickly say,
"I got it this afternoon in a charity shop just around the corner. It is
big enough for my art stuff and almost everything else I've acquired on
holiday."
"It is a bit girlie, isn't it?" Dad asks.
"Kids these days aren't bothered about that stuff," Mum dives to my
rescue. "When I first met you, at a New Romantic disco, you had eye
shadow and lipstick on."
"Oh my god, yes!!" Dad suddenly bursts out laughing. "I was dancing to
The Human League. I'd spent all afternoon trying to get my hair like the
lead singers!" My jaw must have dropped because Mum teases me.
"We had a life before you came along, Miss Needs to Close her mouth!" she
jokes.
"Please say there are photographs?" I beg and Sarah holds my arm, shaking
with laughter.
"Sadly that 'look' is lost to history." Dad says, between laughing.
"You were a New Romantic, dad?" I ask.
"It gets worse .." he pauses for dramatic effect, "I was an Ant Person!"

Claire and Ryan reappear, mission concluded and safe.
"I terminated 9 mutants with my laser pistols!" Ryan proudly declares.
"Claire has promoted me to Captain."
"Thats nice," Mum says. "Does she have that authority?"
"Yes," Ryan says without hesitation.
"Captain Ryan is now in charge. I had to demote myself down to private,"
Claire says with mock sadness. "I dropped the handful of wipes, nearly
bungled the whole mission!"
"Oh dear!" Mum says.
"I've no longer got the authority to promote anyone else ... so,
everyone, no more trying to impress me with your feats of bravery!" she
says looking at me specifically.
The sun slides down beyond the hills that ring the town and the harbour
lights and shop lights bring a glow that is very magical. Sarah looks so
beautiful in the aura of this light. I find myself with a lump in my
throat just looking at her. I have the overwhelming feeling that  I am in
the most perfect place in the universe with the most perfect person.
Suddenly even the task of telling my parents that I want to be a girl
doesn't seem impossible, just a bit difficult .. and that difficulty
isn't for now. I can deal with it later and so can they. Hopefully by the
time I've plucked up the courage, Ryan will have applied for genetic
re-assignment as a Puppy, completed basic training in Space Warfare and
left for the Martian front to fight mutants and time wizards. That is
certainly a hope I file away for future consideration.
Ryan begins to fade. He snuggles with Claire and they read the other
issues of Puppies of War she has brought for him. The conversation seems
to trail gently off and we just enjoy the harbour, the lights and each
other's company. The evening takes on a timeless quality which is
probably the most cruel illusion that our brains play on us, since time
marches steadily on without compromise or negotiation. What feels
timeless turns out to be brief and fleeting.
Dad suddenly calls time on the evening and we find ourselves wandering
back toward the carpark with a grumpy 11 year old who probably should
have gone to bed an hour ago. Claire performs her final miracle of the
evening, distracting and luring him back to the car without significant
incident or collateral damage. The drive back to the holiday park appears
to take no actual physical time. We drop Mum off at our caravan with
Ryan, already nearly asleep. Dad then insists on driving Claire and Sarah
round to their caravan. Suddenly the evening has sped up and things that
should take leisurely minutes appear to take seconds. The Knight family
caravan looms in the headlights of our car only nanoseconds after we've
dropped off Mum and Ryan. Dad insists on actually taking Claire and Sarah
to their door to drop them off. They go inside and seconds later Chris
and Elaine are outside talking to dad. There are another round of
introductions and the 3 parents suddenly discover lots in common.
Barbecues on the beach are planned for the following evening as the
teenagers stand around looking useless. Time suddenly acting screwy again
as a few minutes seems to take an eternity to play out. Finally dad
politely refuses a coffee, explaining he has to get back to our caravan
to help put Ryan to bed. I am sure that Mum has already done this in the
5 hours Chris, Elaine and Dad have been chatting, but I don't say
anything. Chris asks if it is okay for me to stay for the night. They are
about to watch one of Sarah's favourite movies on tv and it won't finish
until late. They have a spare blow up mattress in the awning and I'm
welcome to crash out on that rather than walk back late when the movie
finishes. My dad waves his hands in surrender, or is it agreement to the
plan. Either way he ends up dropping us all off at the Knight caravan.
They promise to breakfast me and get me home a decent time of the
morning. Dad gives me a hug, that is weird, and drives off promising to
pass on my "goodnights" to Mum. I am left standing in the gloom, the
ocean hissing on the beach only a short distance away. It all seemed to
take 5 seconds. We've 15 minutes before the movie starts, it is called 12
Angry Men. I've never seen it before, but Elaine and Sarah say it is just
amazing. The kettle is put on and television is tuned in as best they can
get it. Elaine says she has put some clothes in the awning if I want to
get comfortable before the movie starts. I dip out of the caravan and
discover my bed made up and a beautiful summer dress folded neatly on the
pillow. The material is a cotton blend print. Floral and light. I can
imagine running through corn fields wearing in, getting caught in rain
showers and watercolour painting on hill tops. Under the dress is a bra
and white tights. I quickly slip into all three. Glad that I've already
got briefs on. I pull on the white leather boots and knock on the caravan
door.
"Leela, come in!" Elaine says. Sarah gently pushes past her mum and gives
me a long delicious hug. She quickly goes into a cupboard, grabbing a
handful of socks and insists on filling the bra so I have the proper look
in the dress. Everyone has squished around the table at the head of the
caravan. The television is on and a news programme is just finishing with
a local segment and weather report. Tomorrow the fine weather is going to
break and we are having rain. Snuggled up with Sarah on the cushion, her
fingers laced in mine, I don't care. Tomorrow could bring flooding and
evacuation of the holiday park, it couldn't spoil tonight. The film
starts and it is a black and white one from the 50's or early 60's. A
drama set in the jury room of a murder case. The whole theme is
perception and what really is the truth. The film is really good and I
find myself torn by the ebb and flow of the jury as they firstly wish to
roundly condemn the man on trial and then begin to adjust their thinking
to encompass other ways of seeing what might have happened. I can see why
it is a classic, though a classic I've never heard of before. The ending
of the film is thankfully an excellent resolution and we discuss it while
drinking another cup of tea.
"I can't believe I've never seen that movie before!" I say.
"I've seen it at least 10 times." Sarah replies. "But I do own the
video." The wind has got up outside and the promise of colder weather
tomorrow seems very realistic now. I wish everyone a goodnight and the
caravan begins to be transformed into night mode. Cushions slid around
and the sofa becoming a bed. Elaine hands me a nightie. Sarah sees me out
into the awning. We hug and then she slips back inside. I quickly take
off the dress and boots, putting them neatly on the large camp table. I
pull the nightie over my head and begin to unfold the bedding. The door
to the caravan clicks open and Sarah slips out again.
"I thought we had said our goodnight?" I say, instantly pleased.
"We did, but mum and dad are fine with me taking a little longer over
it." she says softly. We fall into each others arms, then sit down
together. I unzip the sleeping bag and drape it around us. Thankfully it
is huge and no part of us seems to escape it's folds. Sarah shuffles her
bum closer to me and lifts her legs up to fold over the top of my thighs.
It brings all sorts of nice parts of her into contact with very grateful
parts of me.
"Don't get me too aroused, I don't want to be left out here all .. you
know!" I hiss at her.
"I am sorry, we've not done anything, but talk about sex today. I really
want to just be completely naked and rubbing myself against you!" she
said, pushing a hand inside my nightie and cupping a breast.
"Your parent's are just behind a layer of metal that is as thin as a
sheet of paper." I say, feeling her other hand slide along my thigh and
toward the gusset of the tights. Behind it my erection is growing and
demanding attention. I close my eyes and whisper a prayer.
"Take them off?" Sarah says into my ear. We squirm around and I peel off
the tights. Somehow Sarah manages to get my briefs off at the same time.
I feel her hand settle around my erection.
"I don't want to get anything on the sleeping bag or mat," I say. Not
wanting Elaine to discover illicit signs of our goodnight cuddle in the
morning.
"I am going to swallow everything, and will you swallow everything?" she
says. I feel a shiver run through me at the idea of taking her in my
mouth and not letting a single drop escape.
"What if someone comes out to check on us?" I whisper into her ear.
"Not going to happen!" Sarah says. "We are saying goodnight and nobody
would dare to disturb that."
"Why?" I ask.
"On the off chance that saying 'goodnight' is a euphemism for frantic
mutual oral pleasure." she replies.
"Good point!" I say. She dips her head under the sleeping bag and locates
my erection in the gloom. I feel her lips close over me and hands slid
around my hips. She begins to stroke me in delicious circular movements
that make the nerves in my legs and pelvis light up. Her mouth is
insistent on me. It demands my cooperation, and my surrender. I slide a
hand into her hair and stroke down along her back. She hasn't take off
her nightie either so my hand slips along the fabric. My hips are moving
now, pushing myself in small movements into her mouth. She makes soft,
but approving noises at this. I feel myself moving towards my orgasm, I
gently squeeze at Sarah's shoulders in a passionate way to warn her. She
rewards me with a doubling of her speed. I bite my lip to keep from
crying out, but that nearly doesn't work. My passion overtakes me and I
feel myself pulse repeatedly against her tongue. It is sweet release made
sweeter yet by her locking her mouth tightly around me and insisting on
every drop. I made a mental note that that was exactly what I would be
doing to her. I'd use my tongue to coax every trace of her. Already I
could feel my mouth wanting to swop over so I could bring her to an
equally wonderful place. Sarah continued to run her tongue around and
over me. Swallowing and licking until she began to run the risk I would
be ready for another orgasm. I gently slid my hands around her shoulders
and lifted to encourage her to break contact. We kissed a passionate open
mouthed kiss and I tasted myself on her. Two days ago the idea of this
would have probably grossed me out, now I found I looked forward to it.
My tongue actually exploring her mouth to find my taste. I slide my hands
down to her and fumble beneath her nightie to discover her erection. She
makes tiny noises of pleasure, soft gentle moans as my fingers find her.
She lifts her bum up so I could raise her nightie clear of her hips. I
run my fingers through her public hair, delighting in it's texture. Then
I dip my head down to softly kiss her thighs. There is no time for the
foreplay I want to lavish on her entire pelvic region. I long to use my
tongue on every inch of her. Make her breathless and crazy under my
fingers. A growing urge in me to reach back and rub a wet fingertip
against her softly puckered behind was getting difficult to ignore. Could
I slip a little way inside her? I worried that it might cause a slightly
louder reaction than my fingers were currently drawing from her. I licked
slowly along her length and drew down her foreskin. She shakes under my
attentions and I worried for a second that she might just cum in my
hands.
"You okay?" I whisper.
"Fine, really fine .. mind blowingly fine." she says. "Longing for you to
take me!" I slip her into my mouth, pushing forward until my nose rubs
through her pubic hair. My hands go back around her buttocks and I can't
resist sliding fingers into her bum crease. I run a finger downward
toward her delicate ring. Brushing it lightly on the way past and feeling
her shiver at the contact. That was positive reaction. I move my finger
back up again, locating it just at her entrance, teasing the outside of
it. I can feel her muscles twitching slightly. Not sure if to relax a
little at my touch or grab at me. I break contact for a moment and bring
my right hand to my mouth. I collect some saliva on my fingers and dip it
back around her hip and into her bum crease again. All the time my mouth
and tongue have built up a gentle, but urgent rhythm around her. I locate
her sensitive spot again and run my wet fingertip against it. She pushes
back against my finger and makes a soft "ohh" sound as it rubs over her.
I build up intensity with my mouth, doing all the work and allowing her
to keep her pelvis still and bum in solid contact with my fingertip. I
softly ease my finger inside a tiny amount, feeling her muscles twitch. I
hold my finger tip inside her and make a small circular movement with it.
Her whole pelvis begins to shudder and she pushes down on my finger. I
feel a warm gush inside my mouth. It was a wonderful warm mouthful. I
swallow, feeling her pulse repeatedly and give up even more. Just like
she had done I keep my mouth tightly sealed around her, breathing through
my nose and making tiny encouraging noises as her orgasm peaks. I swallow
a second time, not very much for the second one. She didn't seem to
produce as much as I did, which I suppose was the hormones at work. I
don't mind. I begin to clean her of any trace of her orgasm. Tongue
teasing around her rapidly dwindling erection. Her breathing slows and
she sighs softly. All the time I've kept my fingertip just inside her.
When she finally relaxes I ease it out past the tightness of her muscles.
"Oh!" she says again. I pull her nightie down and kiss her. "That was
very naughty, but very nice."
"I know, sorry I didn't warn you!" I whispered.
"It was a good surprise, but only because it was very gentle." she spoke
just into my ear. "If you had pushed in further or moved it around more
it would have been too much."
"Okay. You better go inside now?"
"Yes." she said, glowing. "Night night."
"Night, see you in the morning." we kissed, soft and lingering, then she
slipped back through the caravan door. I switched off the light and then
discovered I couldn't figure out how the sleeping zipped back together
again in the darkness. I clicked the light back on again and sorted
myself out. I pulled on my briefs again and straightened out the white
tights. In my nightie and feeling wonderful I slide back into the
sleeping back. I switch the light back off and rest my head back onto the
pillow. Lights from around the camp site are visible through the fabric
of the awning. I watch two bright ones, probably the lights hung to
illuminate the walkways between the caravans. They bob in the wind,
weaving close to each other but never crossing. I let my eyes close and
sleep take me somewhere restful and almost timeless.

Chapter Eight

I wake early. Aside from the wind rattling the  canvas of the tents and
the distant sound of the English Channel being lashed against the beach
the camp site is quiet. Too early for the sounds of radios and people to
be seeping through the tents. I grope in my pockets for my watch before I
remember I'd not worn it yesterday. There was no way to guess the time by
the grey light struggling through the plastic 'windows' of the awning.
Still buried deep in the sleeping bag against the chill air I shuffle
myself near the entrance and unzip it a couple of feet. I am rewarded
with even colder air. I push my head through the opening and give the
morning a good appraisal. It wasn't barbecue weather, that was for
certain. Unless things cheered up I couldn't imagine last night's plan to
get the families together for a cheerful cook out on the beach was going
to happen. I pull my head back in and zip the door shut. My bag with it's
collection of comics, sketch pad and other items lie just off to the side
of my sleeping mat. I scooch across to it and pull out an issue of
Vortex, Master of the Unknown. Vortex was trapped in a space coma, a
state where his inner most fears manifested themselves in reality. The
story flips back and forth between Vortex's dream world within the coma
and the outer world, being ripped apart by his dream monsters. Other
Alias Heroes appear to tackle Vortex's manifestations within outer world.
There were several heroes and anti-heroes we hadn't encountered in the
comics yet. Germinate, an alien seed pod that can mesh with any living
matter and cause it take on new and bizarre forms. It had fused with an
elephant and a tree to form a battle tank of alien/pachyderm/conifer
material. It was having a battle that would have caused Godzilla to think
twice about getting involved with several of Vortex spawned Id Dragons.
Dr Neuron had programmed his brain to give himself the fighting skills of
an oriental master and a supernatural investigator to tackle Kung Fu
Ghosts escaping from Vortex's mind. Sadly the issue ends on a cliff
hanger. I root around in my bag, looking to see if I had Vortex issue 6
to read the conclusion, but it hadn't been one of the issues I'd picked
up. I resolve to visit the shop with 10p and have a look for it. The
cover to issue 6 was a giant brain floating over a city with the title
"MY BRAIN DIES SCREAMING!" I hoped that Vortex hadn't been cancelled
before this issue had been printed. I rested the comic on my face and
breathed it's 20 year old paper smell.
I awake some unknown time later to morning sounds coming from the
caravan. It was lighter, but just as chilly. Vortex had slid off my face
and was lying on my pillow. I grope for it and affectionately stuff into
my bag in between my other ALIAS treasures to keep it flat. The caravan
door opens a little and Sarah peeks experimentally out. She gives me a
smile and opens the door fully. She descends the metal steps with two
mugs of steaming beverage.
"It is freezing out here!" She says. "I am so sorry, I would dragged you
inside last night had I known. You could have slept in the hallway bit by
my bunk."
"Don't worry," I say. "This sleeping bag is amazing."
"Ahhh, good idea." She places two mugs of coffee down and vanishes back
inside for a moment. She re-emerges swaddled in a large fleece sleeping
bag. Chuckling at some unknown joke we snuggle and sip our coffee.
"It is leg warmer weather today." She comments.
"I will never make fun of your holiday packing choices as long as I
live." I promise.
"What are you doing today?" She asks.
"I'd better go and see my family for a while. We go through this ritual
most mornings were they announce their plans for the day and I politely
decline to get involved. They leave and I tell them to have a good day."
I say.
"Everyday?"
"Pretty much. We've been here since last Saturday and last night was the
only time I've actually joined them for anything off the camp site."
"You doing the moody teenager thing?"
"Not consciously, I'm just not a great fan of day trips out."
"We've been here since the previous Saturday. Been on few days out with
the parents and spent a few days just chilling out on the site."
"When do you go home?" I ask.
"This coming Saturday. Two weeks in the sun, that's all." Sarah says.
"Crap!" I say. "I am here another week after this Saturday."
"Lucky you!" Sarah replies.
"No, I am going to be here a whole week without you." I grumble.
"Oh no," She says, reality dawning. "When am I going to see you again?"
"We get back sometime on the next Saturday. Probably afternoon time. I
wonder if they would drop me at the station and I could train it up to
Gobowen?"
"I could already of got the train down to Shrewsbury." She suggests.
"Meet you in town." We pause and the reality of a week without Sarah
slushes through me like the chilly winds rattling the walls of the
awning.
"Crap!" I repeat. "This week without you is going to be terrible."
"I just thought we'd be going back the same day. That I'd see you on
either the saturday or sunday of this coming weekend." She nestles
against me and we sit for a while. Both of us feeling an unexpected
weight on our shoulders. Elaine pops her head out and offers us a plate
of toast. I jump up to accept it.
"Did someone sneak in and steal all your teddy bears in the night?" She
asks, seeing our faces.
"We just discovered that our holiday weeks only overlap this week. Leela
is going to be here another week and we go home this Saturday!" Sarah
says. Elaine makes a sympathetic face and winces physically at the
situation.
"Thursday today, you have two full days together before we have to pack
and leave." Elaine says. "Squeeze every moment of it you can."
"What about next week?" Sarah says. I can hear the lump in her throat.
"Write to each other everyday. Be ideal chance to get to know each other
without all those hormones distracted you both."
"How can I send letters to a camp site?" Sarah asks.
"Save them each day and give them to Leela when she drives up with her
family the following weekend." Elaine says.
"I will write to you everyday ... I will start today and then you will
have a letter waiting for you when you get home on Saturday!" I take out
my sketchbook and pen, offer it to her. "Write your address down on the
back." I say.  Sarah prints in paranoidly neat block capitals, not a
single letter could be mistaken for anything else. She prints her phone
number and email address. I take back the pad and flip it open to a clean
page.

Dear Sarah, I write. I glance up to see her looking at me intensely.
Elaine laughs.
"She isn't going to rest until she sneaks a peak at what you've written."
Elaine says. "She is definitely one to read the last page of a book
first." I laugh and put the pad down.
"Well, it isn't getting into the post today with that sort of
dedication!" Sarah says, her mood struggling to keep her spirits down. I
can see a smile fighting against it. I pick the pad back up and continue
to write.

This is a fake first page ... I will sneak time to write your proper
letter at some point of today. Right now I am loving the expression of
absolute intensity you are giving me. Makes my tummy go into butterflies
and makes me want to hold you so tight. Today could be a crap day if we
let ourselves dwell on the week beyond this one. I want to make sure your
Mum's advice is the thing we use as our compass direction. Resetting the
Compass of our Inner Peace to making the most of our few days. I am going
to write to you everyday ... and spent the rest of each day walking the
cliff tops in long flowing dresses like a romantic heroine longing for
her lost love. I might even start my epic novel of The Fawn Princess and
the Knight. Anything that will make the week speed past and bring that
following Saturday toward us. Right now that toast is cooling down and my
butterflies need company. I refuse to miss you while you are still here.
Lets eat toast, drink coffee and talk rubbish. xxxx Struggling not to
write total romantic mush .. you are going to have to cut me some slack
when you start receiving the letters for real next week.

I put the pad down to grab a slice of toast. Sarah grabs it up instantly
and commences reading. Elaine had vanished back into the caravan while I
was writing. We eat toast, talk rubbish and drink coffee. It is a great
plan.

The walk back to the family caravan is a little uncomfortable under grey
skies and wind. I wish I habitually traveled everywhere with a coat or at
least a light jacket, but I'm back in my holiday uniform of jeans and tee
shirt. I jog a little to shorten the journey and warm myself up. The
Knights must be early risers as I get back to mum and dad only just
getting out of bed. Dad's clicking the heater on and Mum is just fussing
about the kettle.
"Need me to do a water run?" I ask, sliding my suitcase out to find more
clothes.
"We should be fine, it was only yesterday you did a full one." Dad says.
I'm struck by that weird quality of time. Chatting with Claire at the
Water Point was just yesterday morning. It feels like days ago. We needed
sunglasses against the glare in Mevagissey yesterday, now it is gloomy
and overcast. The delightful British summer and it's many moods.
"Thanks for last night, Dad." I say. "Everyone had a great time. Claire
really loved Ryan.."
"That is good," Mum said, pulling mugs out. "Ryan told me they are
getting married when he is old enough!"
"Did he tell Claire?" I laughed.
"Apparently he did .. she had demoted herself to Private at the time, so
she asked him if it was an order from a superior officer?" Mum obviously
could barely contain herself. The sentence was peppered with small
chuckles and laughter.
"And obviously it was ..."
"So apparently she saluted him and said 'yes sir' ... he has taken this
very seriously and considers it binding." Mum laughed.
"So there are two budding holiday romances and at least we don't have to
meet another set of parents!" Dad says. The heater has now begun to pump
out some relief into the caravan, but I don't take my jumper off.
"Was it obvious that Sarah and I were a bit romancey last night?" I ask
dad. Mum starts to laugh again.
"I think even the Dr Watson of the old black and white films wouldn't
have missed those tell tale clues!" Dad says. "I talked with your mum
last night and she has already had the 'talk' to you, I believe."
"Yes," I say, worried that dad will want to repeat the talk with his own
special version of it right now.
"Fine, your mum's word is law ..and even I hold to that credo." Dad says,
then his voice softens. "I really like them both. Claire I would happily
pay a salary to move in and look after Ryan. Sarah I didn't get to know
half as well, but then I didn't like to interrupt your love birding."
"Love birding?" I ask.
"Don't make me explain it .." he says. "I understand that, luckily for
you both, the family live up the Severn Dee Mainline in Gobowen?"
"Yes, not far from the train station as well." I confirm.
"So you stand a decent chance that your holiday romance will last beyond
the weekend." he says.
"I already have her address, telephone number and email address!" I say
proudly.
"Email address, huh? Very impressive." he says, dating my narrative
significantly.
"I know!" I reply.
"Well it has done nothing but good for you this holiday. It is great to
see you cheerful and finally engaged in something positive rather than
moping about the caravan and reading science fiction."
"Cheers, dad." I say with some irony, but I recognise he has a point.
"I suppose the two of you .. or three of you will be inseparable today ..
and probably for the remainder of the holiday, so I won't try to lure you
with the excitement of a windswept Tintagel Castle, or the beauty of
rainy Boscastle!" He glances out of the window where droplets of rain are
beginning to collect. "Remember your mother's advice and don't make me
repeat it or make you regret you didn't take it seriously enough."
"Hearing you loud and clear, Dad, honestly!" I say. I'm secretly so
relieved there is no physical way I can get Sarah pregnant however much
of my stuff she gets in, on or around her.
"Right, enough with the serious stuff. Lets get some bacon butties on the
go." Dad fires up the grill and begins the breakfast ritual. We are
usually a morning cereal family and luckily for our blood cholesterol
count, only indulge in cooked breakfasts once a year on our holiday.
"None for me, I've already had half a loaf in toast form with Sarah." I
said.
"More bacon for the rest of us!" Dad declares filling up the flimsy camp
grill pan with strips of pale pinkish Danish bacon.
"Any clothes in your tent that need to go into the wash bag?" Mum asks.
"Before you shoot off again, just check and bring them in."
"I might have some socks and things," I ponder.
"I will be doing the mid-holiday wash on friday, so make sure you don't
have anything in your tent that is festering and misses that."
"Okay, I will check before I hit the showers." I say. "Dad, do you really
think we will be having this barbecue tonight." The grey rain is now
falling with depressing force against the roof of the caravan.
"Are you kidding!" he says. "This is classic British Barbecue weather.
The girls will be huddled under umbrellas and the men will be manning the
charring meat."
"Uggh!" I groan.
"Is that UGG caveman speak for 'burning meat good' I hope?"
"Urrgh ... I want to join the girls under the umbrella!" I say. Mum
raises an eyebrow.
"Don't forget washing .. mid-holiday wash!"
"You want to escape from the manly ritual of wrestling the raw meat and
turning it into carbon encrusted raw meat, you will have to wear a
skirt!" Dad says jokingly.
"I can arrange that!" I say, not jokingly.
"I am sure your girlfriend can loan you one if you really want to miss
out on the cooking!" Dad jokes. Ryan wanders bleary eyed into the kitchen
area of the caravan.
"Lee is joining the ladies tonight at the Barbecue, I need another man to
handle the raw meat!"
"Yuck!" says Ryan. "Can I turn the burgers?" he says, reversing his
opinion in seconds as only an 11 year old can.
"You are on burger duty, your brother will be in a dress with the girls
under the umbrellas."
"Do I have to wear a dress if I want to go under the umbrellas as well?"
"We squeamish girls will let you off, since we don't have anything your
size!" I say.
"Good, I might not want to touch any raw burgers!" he says, reversing his
opinion again. "Is Claire here?" he asks.

I unzip the tent flap to my two man and crawl in on hands and knees. I am
about to commence the search for lost and abandoned clothing items when I
spot a letter addressed to me on my pillow at the far end. I crawl the
rest of the way in and grab it. For a microsecond I wonder if Sarah
hasn't decided to beat me to writing the first letter, then realise it is
my mum's handwriting on the envelope. Envelope? Who goes on holiday with
stationary? Obviously my Mum travels nowhere without pen, paper and
envelopes.

Dear Lee,
I'm not sure when we will get a chance to talk freely again on this
holiday and I didn't want you worried or concerned about what happened
today. Of course I recognised you in Mevagissey as I was thanking Claire
for her kindness in giving Ryan the comic. You make a beautiful young
girl, but you would need to be transformed much further for me not to
know it was you (despite half hiding behind a comic).
I recognised Sarah as well, you know how good I am with faces. Once
introduced, I never forget anyone. I was trying to ask you something on
tuesday night when I asked about the make up you'd forgotten to remove. I
suppose it was too early to talk to me, but I hope you will talk to me
about it at some point. I've always known you had a very feminine soul.
You never liked rough and tumble or the company of other boys that much.
I wondered as you grew about you and your happiness. I say 'wondered',but
I suppose I mean worried. You got moody and frustrated and I put that
down to teenage angst, but I think it was more than that. Whatever the
relationship you and Sarah have struck up has transformed you. Even your
dad has noticed and we had a huge, but kindly, talk about you when he
returned from dropping you all off. I am now sat here writing this
because I can't sleep, though your dad is snoring from the Olympic Team.
Had seeing you as a 'girl' come along as an isolated incident I might
think you were just doing it as a dare with your new friends. However I
have a feeling in my water (I know you hate that expression, sorry!) that
you have discovered something profound about yourself, and something that
has made you very happy, though I am sure meeting with Sarah is also a
massive part of that happiness.
Remember what I said about happiness. Health and Happiness are the only
things a parent truly wishes for in their children's lives. All other
things are just icing on the cake of life. Whatever you decide and
however you decide to live your life, remember that. Your dad is a good
egg and he might take a little while longer to reach his happiness with
this, but he will. Ryan loves you and you are his hero, well ... I think
you might have serious competition with Claire now on the scene, but he
will understand as well. I know I asked you not to bring Ziggy home with
you just yet, but talk with me. We can and will work around things so Dad
and Ryan aren't too shocked if they find they have a daughter/sister. I
like to believe that not many things in this life are unmanageable. This
certainly isn't on my list of things I don't believe the family can't
cope with, but please talk to me. I love you very much, and so does
everyone else.
Mum xxx

I lie in the tent and re-read the letter several times. I find I've been
crying without noticing it on a conscious level. I rub at my eyes
furiously to knuckle away the tears caught on my eyelashes. I refold the
letter and slip it back into the envelope. I gather myself together, and
that takes a few minutes. On hands and knees I back out of the tent and
zip it shut.

"I couldn't find anything that needs a wash, mum" I say as I step into
the caravan.
"Have you been dumped?" Ryan asks me and I realise my face is showing
that I've been crying. Mum sees me and comes to give me a hug.
"No," I say. "I am just happy, that is all."
"Soppy!" Ryan declares, and dives back into the Puppies of War. comic he
has balanced on his knee.
"You okay?" Mum asks, giving me a hug.
"Yes, fine, honestly!" I blurt, almost crying again. I hug her back. "I'd
better get going, I want to shower and change."
"Don't forget you need to ask Sarah if you can borrow a skirt if you
aren't cooking with the men tonight!" she says laughing.
"I wasn't going to hold him to it!" Dad says from around the edge of
tattered paperback.
"He can't join us ladies under the umbrella without it! Rules are rules!"
Mum laughs, squeezing me very tightly.
"Mum's word is law .." dad says distractedly. I kiss mum on the cheek and
grab up my stuff. Towl and change of clothes, though I am hoping I won't
need the clothes for long after I return to Sarah.
"Have a good day, see you later ..under the umbrella!" I call.

I take a shower in the rainfall before I reach the actual shower block. I
nearly make the mistake of going into the ladies side. It feels, once I
switch my gender head around, funny to be using the male side of things.
Inside I am singing and happy. I'm already Leela, I don't need clothes to
be her. I also don't need to refer to my female self in the third person.
It is me, plain and simple. I am delighted that I can dress how I want to
today and not worry about changing back for the barbecue. I hate helping
with the gross task of cooking the meat, I always have. I'm nearly a
vegetarian at this point in my life. I know I will be happier preparing
and eating the salad and pasta for tonight's family get together. I
passed on the fish the previous night in Mevagissey, bulking my chips out
with a cheese and onion pasty. I argued we were in Cornwall and needed to
be more supportive of the pasty industry. I feed 50p into the shower and
it clicks onto Hot water.
I quickly shed my clothes and stand under the scalding flow. I feel my
shoulder muscles relax and I droop my head forward into the water. It
catches at my long hair and drags it under a little more. I surrender to
the flow and breathe through my shielded open mouth. Hot water is such a
wonderful thing. My hand wanders unconsciously to my penis and I play
with it vaguely in the name of hygiene. Washing around my groin until the
combination of cleaning and rubbing gives me a predictable erection. Any
normal day this would be an invitation from my body to earnestly give
myself a pleasant no strings attached water soaked orgasm. Today I find
myself tempted, but unhappy to have the experience all alone. I've grown
so accustomed to sharing my orgasms so joyously with Sarah that going
solo seems quite sad and lonely. I complete my shower without touching
myself again and get dry. My erection is quite stubbornly refusing to
subside. I tuck it into my pants and hope I'll calm down on the way to
Sarah's caravan.

The rain had subsided a little. It was just spotting and more a fine West
Country drizzle when I emerged from the showers. I'd a few minutes to
think as I wandered down downward the Knight Caravan. My mum's letter was
tucked in my bag and I felt an itch to get it out and read it again. Only
the drizzly rain stopped me, not wanting to get something so immediately
precious damp. I picked up my pace to get back to Sarah as quickly as
possible. We hadn't discussed what today would contain, but the details
weren't exactly important. Two days, such a little time.

"Hello, Leela!" Elaine called out from the unzipped awning. She and Chris
were loading the car with picnic items. "How are the family?"
"Hi, Elaine," I reply, "fine, I think. They haven't been up long."
"Do they want to go ahead with the Barbecue this afternoon?" She says,
looking out into the grey morning.
"My dad feels barbecues in challenging circumstances are a proud British
tradition. He is never happier than trying to burn meat in gale force
winds or driving rain."
"So can we stay in the awning and shelter while he and Chris battle the
elements?"
"Yes, and I am apparently exempted if I am willing to admit I am a lady
and wear a skirt." I say.
"Pardon?" Elaine says.
"My dad says avoiding the manly cooking chores demands I wear a badge of
unmasculine shame!"
"He was joking?" Elaine asks.
"Either he was half joking or he 'knows' and is giving me an excuse to be
myself at the barbecue." I say. "I'm not really sure what it is."
"What are you going to do?"
"Wear the skirt and wear it proudly .. and not join the men at their
cooking!" I say as Sarah emerges from the caravan and sees me. I explain
for a second time to her.
"What is Ryan going to think?" Sarah asks.
"He wants to avoid cooking as well, but isn't keen to wear a skirt, Dad
says that is fine. I told not to worry because we don't have any his
size!"
"I don't like the idea that a skirt is a badge of shame." Sarah says.
"I'm not sure that dad means it like that ..." I puzzle. "In any case I
am taking it as permission to be as much as myself as I dare to be in
front of the family."
"We are off to St Austell this morning. Shopping for the barbecue, having
a spot of lunch and checking out the shops. There is a nice second hand
bookshop there I want to spend a hour mooching in." Elaine says.
"I'd love to check that out!" I say.
"There are also some nice clothes shops and boutiques." Elaine suggests.
"You might find a few bits for your wardrobe."
"Maybe your skirt for the barbecue is waiting for us there?" Sarah says
with a glint in her eye.

St Austell is one of the biggest towns in Cornwall. It boasts a modern
pedestrian precinct, multi-screen cinema and supermarket. Thankfully it
isn't big enough to have turned into just an endless run of chain stores
and franchise shops. The place has an individuality that makes it all
it's own.
We parked at the top end of town and shopped our way forcefully
downwards. Before we left I'd changed into a pale green skirt and white
blouse. Elaine's leather boots (now excitingly mine) and a jacket
borrowed from Sarah. I was still nervous about clothes shopping,
especially in shops that employed professional women designed to size you
up and help you pick items that suit your style. The first few shops
however we are left to dig through racks and not hassled by sales
people.
Sarah is a 14 size and I pretty much seem to be able to wear most of her
things, so we shop for items marked 14 and 16. I want to ask what
happened to 15, but I don't want to appear stupid. They, whoever 'they'
are, appear to miss out all the odd numbers. Obviously women in general
don't like to encounter odd things while shopping. Elaine, Sarah and
Claire don't fall into this demographic, they grumble and comment about
how dull and uneccentric most of the available the choices are (while
simultaneously charging quite a few items to Elaine's credit card!)
Elaine tells me my outfit is going to be a treat and not to feel awkward
about trying everything in Cornwall on first before I decide on it. I
thank her, but feel a bit strange trying things on. Sarah and Claire have
no restraint. They constantly find things that would look 'so great' on
me and haul me into changing rooms. Two people in changing rooms
(sometimes three) appears to be completely acceptable for the female
gender. Men would never share a changing room out of the automatic and
irresistible homoerotic vibe this would stir up between them. Instead of
complimenting each other on their selections in pants or shirts, they
would be feverishly making out.
For women though it is joyous experience of female bonding, laughter,
criticism (mostly self criticism) and a total lack of time sense. It is
true, time switches off completely. We occasionally catch sight of Chris,
who appears to have entered a zen state of acceptance and calm. He drifts
along in our wake, usually with his nose in a book. Sometimes a cup of
takeout coffee in one hand. He also appears to have the role of bag
carrier. Since the number of bags seems to approach a critical mass and
then diminish, I can only guess he is either ditching them down side
streets or returning to the car at intervals to fill the boot.
We find a coffee bar and take a rest. I just enjoy being swept along by
the high speed clothes based conversation. I feel like a blank canvas
here, much as I relate to the female gender, clothes shopping and choices
have never been important to me. First and foremost it isn't about
impressing the male gender. Most of whom (including Chris) don't notice
if the top you are wearing is brand new or you've had it since you were
two years old and a team of expert steamstress's have been letting it out
and adjusting it to encompass your growing cleavage.
Being disappointed by your cleavage is also normal and understandable.
Mother Nature, despite being a woman herself, is a jealous evil bitch who
has kept the best breast size for herself.
Another rule is 'If it suits you, then it won't be in your size' ... this
is universally true and applies in all clothes shops, not just in modest
ones in Cornwall. There are, I am reassured, odd exceptions to this rule
and clothes shopping is all about finding those rare exceptions and
pouncing on them like the beautiful and dangerous lionesses that we are.
Elaine makes us growl like lionesses to get into the spirit of it. The
lazy lion of the pride, sat reading his paperback has to do another run
back to the car because those 'rare exceptions' I mentioned earlier have
proved too numerous to carry comfortably. Claire assures me this feral
female bonding ritual only happens very rarely and Dad secretly finds it
hilarious to witness Elaine, normally the family's most eco-friendly and
totally non-materialistic person, go slightly bananas for a morning.
We discover a side street that contains a few shops aimed at our age
range. Sarah whoops in delight and hauls us into a Goth/Rock/Alternative
boutique called Alienated Teen or something. Within seconds (probably 2
hours in the world where time flows normally) I'm transformed into a
dangerously sensuous, lace encased and gorgeous goth/rock chick. A
beautiful long black and dark purple skirt swirls around my calves. It
has a lace over skirt with spiders and cobwebs. A top that appears to be
part pvc corset and part an explosion in a lace factory clings to my
modest curves. A flared Victorian jacket more at home in a 70's Hammer
Film and an 80's pop video completes the look. Sarah grabs at gloves and
tights and looks pleadingly at Elaine who is already heading toward the
til with her credit card. Claire tells me to look away to prevent
feelings of guilt while the numbers are rolling upward on the til. It is
a technique she has used in the past that allows her to enjoy the clothes
without feeling too bad.
"I thought you had got over your dark phase, Sarah?" Claire asks.
"I've got over it in me, but I can't help lusting after it in my
partner." The shop assistant dealing with us laughs at this. She is
dressed in a similar fashion to myself, but with lots more make up and
chunky occult jewelry She proves to have a soft Cornish accent and
infectious sense of humour. She insists on throwing in a complimentary
lumpy pentagram necklace to be worn high, near my pale white throat,
totally for free. We go back into the changing room and transform me into
Countess Leela. I look amazing, despite the lack of serious make up and
my white leather boots.
Once outside we confront Chris with the transformed me and Elaine decides
to see if she can disturb his zen like calm.
"This outfit is totally gorgeous," she says. "But, it isn't complete
without a pair of evil black chunky boots!"
"Shoe shopping?" Chris asks. His serene calm would have impressed the
Buddha himself.
"Boot shopping!" Elaine whispers.
"I see no difference .. go, I will follow!" he says in impressive
monotone.
"Have you broken him, Mum?" Sarah asks.
"Or drugged him?" Claire adds.
"He is deep under my thrall," Elaine says in a weird voice.
"Does your mum do stage hypnotism for a living?" I ask.
"No, she is a solicitor .." Sarah tells me.
"That explains everything!" I say.

Shoe shopping or Boot Shopping, is rather like clothes shopping, but even
more frustrating. The rare exceptions that appear in clothes shopping are
even rarer in shoe shopping. Thankfully I have freakishly small feet for
a boy. Elaine and I share the same shoe size. She is already promised me
so many cute shoes when I visit weekend after next. Her cupboard at home
needs a clear out (I hear Chris snuffle through his nose). For now
though, we are after boots that Count Dracula might have chosen, had he
secretly wished to be a 17 year old girl. St Austell struggles to supply
this. To be fair to the shop keepers of the region, I think anywhere
would have struggled to supply this request. We narrow the candidates
down to a pair of purple pixie boots and a knee length black leather
boots with quite a few complicated straps and buckles. I am relieved to
discover none of the straps and buckles need to be unfastened and
refastened to put them on. The boot slips on and off with a little
struggling. I like the pixie boots because they show off a nice amount of
the purple and black striped tights I'm wearing under the skirt. With the
knee length boots that look is spoiled. Sarah votes for the boots, Claire
votes for the Pixie Boots and Elaine sides with Sarah. We have a tied
vote. Chris diplomatically refuses to break the deadlock. He has a
favourite, but refuses to alienate the members of loosing side,
especially since that would involve his wife. Elaine decides to buy the
boots for me and the Pixie Boots for herself... and I can borrow them for
as long as I like. This appears to be a tricky legal maneuver to allow
Elaine to get both sets for me. I already appreciate her canny mind and
fiendish trickery!

We walk back to the car for the final time. Elaine and Chris decide to
drive down to the supermarket carpark (to avoid a huge uphill haul with
the food shop). Sarah, Claire and I decide to walk downhill. The sun has
made a tiny appearance and the rain appears to have stopped. We are all
wearing new things, from Sarah's new wrap skirt, Claire's retro-punk
trousers and my complete transformation into a Goth Princess. We find the
second hand bookshop and take a few guilty minutes to scour the shelves.
Clutching a few hastily bought books we continue to wander down through
the town and toward the supermarket. We attract some attention from boys
hanging around the shops. One even plucks up the courage to approach us
and ask our names. He soon singles out Sarah for the focus of his
attentions.
"She is much more beautiful than you or me." Claire comments to me. While
I enjoy the irony of the boy missing the only genetic female in our trio
(the odds were against him, after all!) I am feeling annoyed and
possessive. The boy follows us down to the supermarket and promises that
he has a few friends who would like Claire and myself. This isn't an
attractive idea and Claire can't help pointing that out to him. Sarah and
Claire use increasing levels of clever sarcasm on him, but his low wits
and stubborn nature refuses to let the message through to his brain. I
finally say that we are meeting our parents down here and point to a
random older couple with a shopping trolley. This unsubtle tactic scares
him into leaving us. Though he is promising to treat us to the cinema if
we meet him later that afternoon as he retreats back up toward town.

The supermarket shop passes like a blur. Trolley, handfuls of salad,
mushrooms and bread. Packs of meat and fish. It turns out that Chris and
Elaine are both ethical vegetarians. Sarah and Claire flirt with meat on
occasion, but mostly don't. I confirm that I am the same as them, and
don't really fancy eating meat today. All our meat choices are going to
pretty much be to keep my Mum, Dad and brother happy. Chris gets a
disposable barbecue to cook the vegetable kebabs on. We go through the
checkout and head back to the car. Amazingly it still has room for us all
inside. Volvo obviously uses Time Lord technology as the inside of the
estate car doesn't feel cramped despite almost a full morning of manic
shopping. It is coming around to 1.30 and I am hungry. There was no set
time to the beginning of the barbecue... it was sort of supposed to
organically happen at some point of the afternoon.
We drive around to my family caravan and spot my parents. They are
attempting to sort out shopping from the back of their car into barbecue
and non-barbecue piles. There is a general consensus that we eat as soon
as possible for the window in the weather might only be a small one. Dad
stuffs Ryan into the back seat and they hastily shove bags back into the
boot.
We drive slowly around the Knight Caravan and set up just across from the
awning. Elaine and Claire disappear into the kitchen to prepare salads
and pasta. Sarah and I set up the table just inside the awning. Chris
unzips one side of the awning completely. Plates, cups and cutlery
stacked. I cut a french stick into chunks. Chris goes outside attempts to
coax the disposable barbecue into life. Mum, Dad and Ryan appear. Dad
peels off and helps Chris. He sets up the meat barbecue and lights it.
The dads chat as they master the ancient art of the cooking fire.
The sun comes fully out and begins to dry off the sand on the beach. Ryan
runs around a bit looking for Claire, disappears into the caravan to see
her. Nobody mentions I'm looking like the daughter of darkness. Mum
drifts in and offers to help in whatever way she can. Elaine pops her
head out and invites her in to chop stuff. Mum smiles at me.
"Very beautiful," she says, as she goes inside the caravan.
It seems to take an age for the barbecues to become ready to cook on. The
diners fall into two categories. Those who wait for the meat and will not
touch salad. Those who hit the bread and salad and can wait for their
cooked items. Chris and Dad manfully jockey the barbies.
We drift around with plates and glasses of juice. Dad begins preparing a
small mountain of burgers, despite Chris warning him of a lot of
vegetarians in the awning. Ryan avoids the burger flipping, despite Dad
encouraging him. He remains inseparable from Claire, but even when Claire
(in her trousers) helps Dad out with the burger flipping, Ryan doesn't
want to try it.
I try one of Chris and Elaine's homemade vegetable kebabs. Slices of
Green and Red Pepper, Red Onion and whole big fat mushrooms. Coated in a
spiced oil and barbecued until the mushroom is soft. The peppers still
have a little crunch to them. It goes well with the salad and bread. Ryan
stops in front of me and looks at my skirt.
"The spiders are cool!" he says.
"Thank you!" I reply.
He and Claire vanish again. We continue to chat and nibble. Suddenly Ryan
appears, a beach towel tied around his waist in skirt fashion. Claire is
killing herself laughing.
"He insisted ... honestly!" she laughs. "I had to make him a skirt!"
"I am joining the girls and don't want the burgers!" he tells mum in a
serious voice.
"Cooking them or eating them?" she asks.
"Cooking them, I will still eat them .." he confirms.
"Good, because your father has insisted on cooking enough for the whole
campsite."
"It is the male provider impulse. They have to feed the whole tribe ..."
Claire says.

The rain returns, but not before Chris and Dad have filled plates with
cooked food. They continue to stubbornly stand by their fire, though no
more cooking is actually needed. The rain really beings to lash down.
Everyone runs back into the awning and hopes for a brief shower that will
quickly pass. However the sky has now turned a uniform angry grey from
horizon to horizon. The adults seem to take over the caravan and the kids
stay out in the awning, flirting with the zone of wetness just inside the
edge. Ryan keeps his skirt on, though there is no more burger turning to
be avoided. He wants to pin plastic spiders to the outside of it to be as
cool as my skirt, however nobody (including him) wants to trek back
through the rain to our caravan to get his plastic spiders. We sip camp
beakers of juice and fizzy pop. Nibble at rolls filled with salad, veggie
burgers and coleslaw. We watch the rain fall on the English Channel and
chat. The afternoon might have washed us out, but my spirits can't be
dented. Dad appears from the caravan and checks we are all okay and Ryan
isn't murdering anyone.
"I didn't expect you to take avoiding the barbecue cooking this
seriously!" he says, seeming to notice my outfit properly for the first
time.
"I'm 16 years old, I take everything too seriously." I reply. At that
moment Claire rushes past, pursuing a Ryan still wearing his beach towel
skirt.
"You can't kill me, I'm the Princess of Darkness!" he shouts.
"After this holiday I can see being the father of this particular
madhouse is going to become more interesting." Dad says.
"Nothing worse than being a parent in a boring family, I should imagine."
Sarah comments.
"I think you are a very wise young lady!" My dad says. "But I wonder if
Matthias in the Omega Man shared your philosophy!"
"Despite the transformation," Sarah says "Lee can still go out during the
daytime and Dr Robert Neville is never going to hunt us down."
"Don't try and out movie nerd her, Dad," I say. "I gave that up on day
one."
"Thanks for the advice." he says.

The evening steals over us in crafty fashion. With no sun to watch set,
and such a lot of dark cloud over head, it rapidly feels quite late. The
awning is zipped up again to seal the open side and retain the heat. We
continue to graze at the over abundance of cooked food. Dad eventually
packs the cooked, but unappealing burgers and sausages into plastic
containers for tomorrow and possibly the next day. We chat about movies
and discover that Sarah hasn't quite got the encyclopedic knowledge we
feared she had. Dad is delighted to discover she hasn't seen many
Charlton Heston disaster movies from the 1970's.
"I've seen all the important ones!" she asserts.
"You can't possibly judge yourself which are the important ones without
watching them all." Dad counters. "Just trusting reference books isn't
going to always guide you correctly."
"I have a gut feeling that missing AIRPORT 1975 isn't harming me in any
significant way!" she announces.
"But you can't miss Earthquake!" Dad says.
"At least Airport 1975 has Karen Black and George Kennedy in it,"
"George Kennedy is also in Earthquake .. and we are talking Ava Gardner,
Lorne Greene and Richard Roundtree, god damn your ass!" My dad argues.
"I've seen Airport 77, George Kennedy, James Stewart, Christopher Lee and
Joseph Cotten!" Sarah announces. "With Joseph Cotten in the picture we
are just one short step away from Orson Welles!"
"Orson Welles would turn in his grave to be connected with Airport 77!"
My dad holds his hands up and does spinning motions.
"The great actor who provided a voice for Unicron in Transformers The
Movie would be turning in his grave for many other reasons!" Sarah says.
"Orson Welles was in Transformers The Movie?" My dad incredulously asks,
trumped magnificently.
"I rest my case, and Orson rests easy in his grave ... connected, as it
is, with Airport 77." Sarah folds her arms over her perfect breasts to
indicate 'Game Over.'

Ryan finally gives up his Princess of Darkness skirt, with the promise it
will be available again should he ever need it. Claire is invited to
sleep over at my parent's caravan by Ryan. She accepts and picks out a
book of Vampire poems to terrify Ryan as a bedtime treat. Sarah asks if
she can keep me as part of an exchange of hostages, perhaps fearing Ryan
won't give up Claire tomorrow morning. Both sets of parents, knowing I am
valuing every second until Saturday's departure time, agree. We bid the
happy couple and mum & dad goodnight and they drive off back their
caravan.
"Your hair smells of cooking!" Sarah announces after cuddling me.
"So does yours!" I tease back.
"Do I sense a romantic joint shower being planned?" Elaine says. We both
blush and stammer excuses. "I wasn't born yesterday and I know from
experience that if I forbid something it will just happen behind my
back."
"We really care for each other ..." Sarah says.
"This I know ..." Elaine confirmed. "I don't want to be a kill joy, but I
need to point out that the age of consent for sex between you both is
currently 18, though it is being debated in the parliament at the moment
and proposals to drop this to 16 are on the cards. This means you will
both be legal to ravish each other very soon."
"There is no ravishing, mum .. honestly!" Sarah says. "Just a lot of
cuddling."
"If you both qualified legally as girls, we wouldn't have a problem.
There is no legal limit on consent for girls together." Elaine drops
neatly into the conversation.
"We both want to qualify as girls!" Sarah argues.
"Just make sure your cuddling doesn't cross the line that would be
regarded as illegal." Elaine says. "I love you both to bits and I've got
a great feeling about this relationship, but don't do anything that will
get yourselves into trouble!"
"I promise!" Sarah says.
"I do as well..." I confirm quietly.
"Why do I get the impression I should have had this talk with you both
much earlier?"

We bundle up against the cold and pack a bag with thick nightware and
lots of clean towels. It is going to be chilly walking to the showers. I
swop my jacket for a long coat of Chris's. Feeling a little told off and
sheepish we don't hold hands until we are on the way up to the showers.
"I know in my mind what we have been doing qualifies as sex to me, but
would it legally be considered sex?" Sarah asks me after we've got a good
distance away from the caravan.
"I don't know." I said. "I don't think this was covered in my school's
sex education class."
"Mine neither .." Sarah said. "How can a law that is supposed to protect
us end up causing this amount of psychological damage and upset?"
"Are you damaged psychologically?" I ask, hugging her.
"No, but if we end up in court over this shower, I am going to argue like
crazy that vague laws led us to a life of confused deviant behaviour!"
"I am with you on this ..." I say in all earnestness. "I doubt we will be
locked up in the same cell you know!"
"Lets keep it to just cuddling and mutual masturbation tonight ..." Sarah
says. "I am joking about it, but it has freaked me slightly out."
"I am desperate not to lie to your parents." I say. "I really like them
and they have been so amazing with me."

We arrive at the shower block and go into the female half. I wonder at
the legality of this as well. Nobody is around, probably due to the
really cold weather. Most people would probably have decided to skip
showering tonight. We pick the same room as we did on our first day
together. Sarah pumps in two 50p pieces to give us a longer amount of hot
water and turns it on straight away. Very quickly the steam begins to
fill the room and the temperature rises. When it becomes tolerable we
begin to undress. I carefully fold and store my new Goth outfit away. I
am down to just tights and briefs very quickly.
"On warmer nights I'd like to have watched you undressing a lot slower."
Sarah says over the roar of the hot water. I turn to look at her,
standing there in just briefs. I feel my libido kicking in at the sight
of her. It doesn't know anything about British law. She sees my
discomfort and makes a sad face.
"I know, I am sorry!" I say.
"Don't be sorry, don't ever be sorry about a perfectly normal and natural
reaction!" she says. "It isn't us that is fucked up!" I take off my
tights and carefully fold them as well. We are slowly vanishing in the
steam. The room is taking on a vague dimensionless quality. I pull down
my briefs and slide under the water. Sarah ditches her briefs and joins
me. We just hold each other under the water.
"We have so little time to share ourselves!" Sarah says.
"I know, it seems so unfair!" I say, trying to turn my erection slightly
to one side so it doesn't collide with her.
"You don't need to touch me to cum ..." she says. "I will talk to you,
tell you what I would like, if the British Law didn't have my mum over a
barrel on this."
"Okay, can I touch myself while you describe it?"
"I would love to watch you do that." she says.

Chapter Nine

"It is three months time. I've turned 18 and I celebrate by buying the
most beautiful silk dress. It is red and clinging. Underneath I am not
wearing anything... so it touches my skin everywhere."
"That sounds beautiful," I say. My hand traces a line down my stomach. I
don't touch myself, but I am close.
"I have you lying in my bedroom at home." she says, moving a little back
to give me room. I can see her penis rising as well as she thinks about
the scenario. "Before I go out shopping I've dressed you as a schoolgirl,
pleated skirt, white blouse. ankle socks. You wait for me. You want to
touch yourself, but you have promised me you will wait for my return."
"So I can't?" I move my hand a little lower, but stop short.
"No, you wait." she says. "I find you lying in my bed. Wanting me, but
waiting."
"I will wait for you ..." I say.
"I come in to the room, like a siren in red." she dreams. "You stand up
and slowly undress for me. Pulling off your socks. Letting the skirt fall
to the floor. Unbuttoning your blouse until all that holds you in are
your white cotton briefs. I draw the curtains until the room is in total
shadow. The you slide them off and climb into bed. You are naked and
lying flat on your stomach. Your bottom slightly raised. I slide over you
in my dress. Red silk brushing against you as our passion grows. We are
ready to give ourselves to each other."
"Who goes first?" I ask.
"I was the girl first .. so I get to receive you inside me first." she
almost breathes. "You go down and slowly excite me with soft kisses." She
reaches around to her bottom and eases her legs a little apart to allow
easier access. "Your tongue touches me there .. " she indicates her bum.
At this fantasy she is hard and upright. I see her move her hand again
and she makes a little noise that is halfway between a sigh and yelp. I
wonder if she really has pushed a fingertip inside herself.
"I want you, Sarah, so badly." I am dying to touch myself now, but I
don't.
"You let your saliva run out of your mouth and make me wet and sticky.
You push your tongue a little inside me, then slip a finger in. I
surrender to you, tell you to take me. You take hold of yourself, but I
first want to take you in my mouth." Sarah sinks to the floor, closes her
eyes and opens her mouth. I almost step forward, but stop myself. She is
working a finger softly inside herself. Her penis is softly bobbing in
rhythm with the motions of her internal movements.
"You are so beautiful, my lovely girl." I say. "I am now slippery and so
so ready to be inside you."
"I roll over onto my tummy and hold my bottom cheeks gently apart for
you. My little hole is ready for you." Sarah shifts and onto her knees
and lifts her behind toward me. She is balancing herself with her left
arm and she has a fingertip from her right hand inside herself. I can see
the muscles of her behind gripping at it desperately. I kneel down, my
penis only inches from her.
"Enter me!" she demands. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Her
bottom is so inviting. She is wet with shower water, glistening in the
lights and shrouded in the mist from the heat. It feels unreal and so
tempting.
"I am going to place the head of my cock just at your entrance." I say. I
can feel myself close to orgasm and I haven't even properly touched
myself.
"Are you close?" she asks.
"I am, sorry ... I might not last more than a few thrusts inside you!" I
gasp.
"I want more than that on your first time inside me." she says. "I want
you to spank me first."
"What?" I ask.
"Now, I want you to take the flat of your hand and lovingly slap me
across the bum!"
"In the fantasy?"
"No, here and now ... it isn't sex and it isn't wrong .." she says.
"It is a little bit wrong," I say.
"And that is what I am ... just a little bit wrong." She looks around at
me. Her hair is matted and wet, clinging to her head and making her look
innocent and waiflike. "Now, please, before I lose my nerve." I raise my
hand and bring it softly down on her behind. Her bum jiggles
enchantingly.
"Was that okay?" I ask.
"A little harder, and don't ask my permission." she says. "This is you
warming my behind up for the love making you are going to give it."
"Oh, right."
"I am yours, totally yours and you are going to possess me totally ...
now mark your territory with good slap." I raise my hand, feeling
completely stupid and deliver a hard slap to her bum. She grunts and
mutters "Again!" I slap her bum a second time, then without invitation a
third time. Then a fourth. She moves her finger back to her bum and slips
it back inside. She lets out a low moan of passion.
"Now enter me!" she says. I grip myself and begin to thrust into my hand.
At the end of each stroke the head of my cock just brushes against her
backside.
"Is .." I begin to ask if this little contact is okay.
"Don't ask me, just take me .." she interrupts. I bite my lip, and move
my cock down so it rubs across her bum with each thrust.
"You are mine!" I gasp.
"Oh god, yes .. yours!" she moans. Her finger is busy and I so want to
push it out of the way and see how it feels to ease into that beautiful
little ring of muscle. A moment of tightness and then I would be truly
inside her. To be gripping her hips with both hands and slipping deeply
into her. I am so tempted, but I wouldn't do it ... I want the whole
deal. I want the bedroom, the red silk dress and even the dressing up as
her schoolgirl lover. I am greedy for that perfect afternoon. I close my
eyes for a moment and see it all in my head.
"I am going to cum inside you." I say, speeding my thrusts up.
"I want you to .." she starts, but doesn't get to finish as I suddenly
orgasm. I am losing control and cumming across her behind. I rub myself
down the crease of her bum and collide with her finger. I feel a final
spasm and one single of squirt coats her finger.
"The idea of that is so sexy!" she exclaims.
"And that would be sex in the eyes of society, not what we've already
been doing." I say reassuringly.
"Hell, that is passing over into a whole new realm of doing things to
each other." Sarah laughs. She moves fully into the jet of hot water and
lets it rinse off all my hardwork. I reach across and begin to help her
clean. Grabbing some shower gel and scrubbing.
"I'm not 17 until next month." I say, slightly depressed by the idea I
have 13 months before my 18th birthday and legally allowed to play out
that scenario.
"Maybe the government will drop the age of consent and I won't be put in
prison for tempting a minor into deviant lifestyles."
"Like I need any tempting!" I say. I look down to Sarah's still perky
erection. "I can't touch it right now, can I?"
"Rules are rules and we can't apply one to you and not to me." she says
sadly. I stand up and let the water run down over me. I gather a handful
of it and run it down and under myself. The movement feels sensuous and
exciting. My behind has never featured in any sexual fantasies I've run
through my brain. My bum is just a big lump of stuff that follows me
around and lets me sit comfortably for hours when I need to watch a
marathon of sci fi movies. I've never felt even slightly affectionate
toward it, let alone considered it as a welcome participant in my sexual
universe. I tweak my right cheek.
"This feels weird doing this to myself." I say.
"And in front of me, as well .." she says, slightly wickedly. Her hand
has become busy. She looks gorgeously wanton. Hair plastered down around
her shoulders in thick strands. Wet, beautiful and very aroused.
"You want me?" I ask, turning around a little to tease her with part view
of my backside.
"Oh god, yes." she says, her hand increasing speed around her erection.
I've never just watched her masturbate before. It is a glorious sight,
made more erotic by our sudden no touching rule.
"I am yours, your girl ..." I go down onto hands and knees. I lift my
behind to her.
"Your bum is gorgeous." she gasps. I reach back and slap my own buttocks.
She laughs at me.
"I should be doing that!" she says.
"Your hands are a bit busy ..." I suggest.
"Only the right one!" she says and I glance back to see her move closer.
She lets her left hand fall hard on my bum.
"God!" I say.
"That wasn't one of the Old Testament punishments!" she says. "So leave
god out of this!"
"Neither was having your girlfriend squirting all over your bum!" I point
out.
"That isn't going to be a punishment." she says. "That is a reward for
being so beautiful and magical .. and for having a behind I want to dress
in tight jodhpurs and play ponies with!"
"Hell, woman!" I gasp, "One fantasy at a time!"
"I'm heading toward an orgasm in a communal shower block, I need every
fantasy I can to make this not feel tacky to me!" she moans.
"Go for it then, pretend to ride me like a pony." I feel her move behind
me and lightly straddle my bum. Her hand is still working hard around her
penis. She reaches the other hand down to stroke my back passionately.
"Gi up, girl!" she calls. I try to push back against up she, but her
position is wrong. "Woa, steady ... I will take care of you!" She strokes
my neck, then spanks me on the flank.
"Purrrrr .." I say, trying to pretend to be a pony. Sarah starts to
laugh.
"Was that your best girl pony?" she says
"I don't know what ponies sound like." I plead.
"Well, it was terrible, god I love you so much!"
"I love you to .." I say. I hear a little whimper behind me and a small
set of spasms runs through Sarah's thighs. I register a gentle patter
over my back of cum and her hand immediately rubs it over me.
"Lets get under the water properly!" she says. "I'm getting cold." We
scuttle under the water and wash each other down. Handfuls of shower gel
and shampoo. The Unit beeps it's warning that the hot water is about to
cut out. Reluctant, but happy we grab towels and rub ourselves and each
other down. We bundle into jammies and coats, pushing damp feet into
resistant pumps. We brush our teeth using the sinks in the main corridor.
As we are finishing a couple of middle aged ladies arrive chatting. They
wish us a good night as we walk past them. I nearly freeze, expecting
them to complain about a boy in the ladies block, but they pass us by
without a backward glance.
"You okay?" Sarah asks as we hurry down the path to the caravan.
"I did panic a little with those women at the Shower block," I confess.
"Without a dress and make up, I don't look very authentic as a girl."
"You weren't wearing make up in town today ..." Sarah says.
"Yes, but I had everything else totally female."
"You don't recognise how pretty you are for a boy, do you?" She says.
"I'm not pretty ... I'm .." I hunt for the word. Not masculine, but what
is the opposite of that, but not feminine.
"You have long curly hair that women would love to have. Your face is
soft and rounded, but not chubby, it certainly is a contrast with your
thin body. You have very full lips and eyelashes that don't need any
help. By rights you should be making men uncomfortable that you are using
their shower block."
"So wearing a dress is just a final piece of how I look?"
"Eye shadow does bring out those eyes as well ..." Sarah says, "but you
don't really need it to have gorgeous feminine eyes."
"Am I really that female?"
"I thought you were just about ready to cross over when I first met you."
Sarah said. "I couldn't believe you hadn't been tortured about it for
years."
"I think I was lucky that my parent's respected my slightly oddball
nature and never forced me to be masculine."
"Neither did mine, but I still hated not being in a dress." she said.
We are grateful to be just yards from the glowing lights of the Knight
Caravan windows. The beach is a roaring monster in the gloom. No moon or
stars light the dark shapes of the dunes or the shape of the bay. The
English channel is in a grumpy mood and we aren't tempted to stay outside
and watch it throw a tantrum.