Sarah Knight and the Fawn Princess

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.