“The show finishes at six, and the Ball starts at seven thirty.”
“How the hell will I get changed in time?” I asked, and he just laughed at me.
“If you are wearing that, you can stay as you are,” he said pointing to the long satin dress. “Will you come with me?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, and stood up. “You know I will. But are you sure you don’t want a…”
He put his hand across my mouth.
“I told you. Never, ever mention that again,” he said, and I looked down, ashamed of what I was.
He lifted my chin with his hand, and stared into my eyes, tears of frustration and shame were welling up.
“Sandi, I told you once that you are the girl that I love. I meant it then, and I mean it now. Okay?”
The tears fell, this time from pure joy. I didn’t deserve him.
“So, I’ll see you Saturday?”
I nodded.
“If I get a chance, I’ll pop by the fashion show, as I want to see you strutting your stuff.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
He smiled and kissed me. I so wanted him to do more to me, but we both knew that, for the moment, that wasn’t an option.
I held his hand.
“Dave?”
“What?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning.
“I love you too,” I said. It was the first time I had uttered those words, and I realised that I meant them.
“Yeah, I know,” he repeated.
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He held me close, and I could feel his body hard against me. I felt him becoming aroused, and I wanted him so bad, I ached.
“Not long now,” I said.
“I can wait,” he said, smiling.
“I fucking can’t” I said, and he laughed.
“You’ll have to, that’s all.”
“I know, but I want you,” I said.
“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, but it doesn’t change things.”
“I can’t have your children,” I wailed.
“No problem, we can adopt.” he said, so calmly, that I hugged him again.
At that moment the teacher returned, and looked at us.
We grinned sheepishly and he left me alone again.
“You’ll miss him,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” I said, and went back to my hemming.
5.
The school theatre was packed. Parents, staff and lots of guests were crammed in. A catwalk had been constructed to run from the stage and straight down the centre of the main theatre.
I was backstage shaking with nerves. Jenny and Caroline had agreed to help me, and everything was in chaos. There were six categories; formal eveningwear, evening wear, daywear, casual, sports, and swimwear. I had one in each of the first two, two in the daywear, and a swimsuit.
The Head had invited some judges to come from the big London fashion houses, and the fashion editor from Harpers.
The Sports section was first, and I just watched as the girls went and showed them off. We had been practising our walks for ages, a lady from a local modelling agency came and gave us some basic instructions, and had helped iron out a few bad habits.
My first one was the swimsuit. I had to be very careful as I had super-glued what was left of my empty scrotum over the top of my little worm, which I had tucked back out the way. It looked pretty convincing, and I was not anticipating close scrutiny.
I had had my hair done, and it was sort of up, with golden ringlets hanging down at the back. I was pleased with it, and as I had gone all out with the make up, I knew I looked hot. My finger and toenails were varnished in aquamarine blue, with a small pseudo-diamond stuck on each of my fingernails.
My legs looked fabulous as I had bought some black stiletto shoes, and I wore a set of genuine diamond drop earrings in my ears. I had some stunning stockings, and was about as ready as I ever would be. I couldn’t wear the stockings with the swimsuit, but my legs were pretty good without.
I smiled as I wondered what the reaction would be if they discovered I was a boy. Best not to think about it, really.
I had the number ‘15’ on my wrist, and at last, it was my turn. There were eight swimsuits in this show, and I was the third to go.
I took my time, and walked out, placing each foot in front of the other, with the toe pointing out. Shoulders back, and with a slight swing of the hips, I focussed on the distance, with a sultry smile fixed on my face, and went for it.
I almost lost it.
As I stepped through the curtain, the first person I saw was my father. He was standing at the back, smiling at me. My smile changed from sultry to real joy, and a gasp could be heard from the crowd.
I suddenly worried that I was exposing myself. But then realised that this was their reaction to my appearance.
Mrs Hibbert, my teacher, was commentating.
“Sandi is modelling a one piece swimsuit of her own design. Note the intricate and attractive criss-cross design down the front and centre, this is to allow freedom of movement, and for ladies of a fuller figure, a device for appearing slightly slimmer.”
I reached the end, stopped, turned, and then walked back. I then saw Dave, who took a photograph of me, and grinned. Flash bulbs were popping, so I returned behind the curtain to safety once more to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
I changed into my mini skirt. I had the trousers as well, and was on twice in this section. I wore my tights, and knee length black boots with high heels. I was about six foot with the heels on.
Once again, I walked out, to be met by almost instant applause this time. I walked up, stopped, turned and walked back; my smile was pure pleasure this time. This was fun. The commentary went on, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.
I quickly slipped the trousers on, and was back out, and the applause seemed ever louder, or perhaps that was my imagination.
I watched as the other girls did their bit, and for the first time I actually wondered if there was any chance that I would get anything from this. I had not really thought about it, but it dawned on me that if I won, then there was a possibility I could look to this as a real career. I felt quite excited about it, and began to take more of an interest in my competition.
I changed into my evening dress, and glided out along the catwalk. This time the applause really was the loudest I had heard so far. My grin said it all. My Dad was almost in tears, so I blew him a kiss.
On the way back, I did the same to Dave, and there was a cheer from his mates. Most of the blokes from the leaving upper sixths had come in for an ogle.
I quickly changed, slipping on my sexy little black number. I wore stockings and a suspender belt, and my stiletto shoes again. I began to notice that the other girls were looking at me differently, and it hit me. I did look the most like a real model.
I went out for my last walk, swinging as much sex into my walk as I could. Flash bulbs and applause threatened to raise the roof, and I was grinning from ear to ear. Dad waved at me, and I saw him slide out. I was just ever so pleased he had come. I hoped he would hang about, but I knew that he was probably wanted for the killings on the road.
I did a twirl, aware that my stocking tops were visible, and walked back. When I retreated behind the curtain for the last time, even the other girls were clapping me.
The last few girls showed their dresses, and it was over. We relaxed backstage, and there was still a little tension in the air.
“Well done Sandi,” said Rachel.
“Well done yourself, my stuff was no better that yours,” I said.
“Maybe, but you have the figure of a model, so yours was shown off best,” she said.
I was pleased, but also I didn’t want to upset anyone.
The Head came backstage.