I stared at the ceiling as I drifted off to sleep. I needed this newhome. I was glad to have left the old one.I felt alive.-----000-----Saturday. My first weekend in bliss. I took my morning stroll, waved tovarious neighbours tending their lawns and gardens, and then showered anddressed for Norma's open house.She had invited all the neighbours and various friends of hers to herbackyard for a no-reason-for-it social. She whispered to meconspiratorially that I would soon be able to put faces to the gossip shehad begun to tattle to me! I looked forward to meeting everyone.I crossed the street carrying a tray of apple crumble crisps and a bucketof ice cream. I found Norma in the kitchen --- "Oh! Hi, Greg!" I added --- and got to work helping her lay the buffet table and place varioussnacks. Greg was in charge of drinks; I caught Norma's disapprovingglances as he tested each drink.To be honest, both Norma and I tested some of the sangria as well.The guests began to arrive at two. Some of. It was the chance to be someoneconfident, sexy and free. Sam was none of these. He figured a lot ofcrossdressers felt exactly the same way.As he applied a thin layer of foundation to his face and shaped hisbrows, something he had been doing for years now, his mannerisms shiftedever so slightly. His knee cocked as he leant over the bathroom sink,straining to push every last hair on his brow into place. He daintilylifted the eyeshadow brush and stroked it across his face, expertlyblending light and dark tones into a smokey eye look. Sam knew he wasn'ttransgender. He knew he wasn't a girl trapped in a boys body. Any time hetried to spend more than a day dressed he found himself unable to do it.He was a boy and after a while he always needed to be a boy again. But hehad recognised the change in the way he held himself as a girl. He wasaware of the slight swing in his hips when he walked, of the way he heldhis legs together when sitting, of the pout he found himself currrentlydisplaying.
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