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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-02-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 7
 
 
I kept Mabel happy again on Sunday by once again going to Church with the girls. Although it was strange, it was sort of comforting to go to Church after such a long time away from it in recent years. I felt quite at home at Silsbury Manor and when Monday came it was with a certain sadness that I realised I was beginning my last week of my stay. It was the 16th December. Actually when I thought about it, I really became quite emotional and over breakfast I was quite teary. I got lots of hugs and sympathy from the girls, well mainly Beth. It wasn't quite Jools' sort of thing.

"Why am I getting on like this? I feel mortified sitting blubbing like this, I don't understand it," I said trying to make light of it.

Jools looked at Beth knowingly and then looked at me. She said softly, "Cara dear, hormones."

I looked at her and realisation hit me. "Oh you mean...that this is because of...is this normal?" I wrinkled my brow.

They both laughed and Jools replied, "Yes dear, it's perfectly understandable. You're now onto your 4th week of hormones and this week's pills are mainly progestagens. You are suffering a relative deficit of oestrogen this week compared to previous weeks."

"Why are they made like that?" I puzzled.

Jools smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Well, it is a 4 week cycle..." She let her voice trail off.

"Oh," was all I said.

Beth and Jools smirked.

"Erm," I began hesitantly, "please tell me that I don't have PMS?"

They laughed. I couldn't help but join in too.

Beth and I maintained our usual routine in the mornings and she herself began to admit that she didn't really see much point in continuing as she felt I had learnt practically all she needed to teach me. However paradoxically it was me this week who wanted to keep going. Perhaps it was the fear of going back to the real world after this week that drove me on. I just wanted to make sure I didn't do anything to give myself away.
 

*          *          *
 
When Tuesday evening approached, I couldn't hide my anticipation about going dancing again and the girls sensed it and gently teased me about it. I didn't care. I was looking forward to it. I wore a black velvet top, a red skirt that came to just above the knee and black stockings. Also tonight I decided to give my high heels a go and see how I managed dancing in them. I took an inordinately long time doing my hair and makeup but thankfully I had started early so I don't think Jools and Beth realised. At last, satisfied with my appearance, I headed downstairs and we headed into Plymouth.

Paul was again waiting just inside the door and I was quite surprised at how pleased I was to see him. He seemed quite pleased to see me too. He gave me his arm and we walked up the stairs.

"How was the conference?" I asked.

He groaned, "Oh it was stultifyingly boring. But then it usually is." He grinned at me and winked, "I couldn't stop thinking about you Cara."

I squeezed his arm, "Oh you. Stop being such a tease."

He smiled and said softly, "Well, I did think about you a lot. And if I may say so, you look absolutely beautiful this evening. Did you miss me last week?"

I laughed, "Oh I think I can safely say that I did. My stand-in partners did not match up to your suave brilliance on the dance floor."

He grinned, "So that's all you missed: my dancing?" He raised an eyebrow.

I felt myself colour a little, "Alright well they weren't quite as charming or as devastatingly handsome as you." I gave a little wink to try and make the comment as light-hearted as possible. He smiled at me and this time it was his turn to flush.

Freddy started us off with a revision of the Quickstep. Although when I say revision, this week's quickstep bore little resemblance to last week's. Paul guided me expertly and it was a joy to relax in his arms and be led around the floor. I didn't have to concentrate as much and could just enjoy the experience.

Towards the end of the night as this was the last official beginner's class of this session, Freddy gave us a selection of different dances in succession: Waltz, Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot and Quickstep. He complimented us all on how much we had learned and gave us a last reminder about the dinner dance on Friday. We applauded him and all thanked him for his time and patient instruction.

At the end, Paul guided me off the dance floor, his arm around my shoulders. It felt nice, I felt secure. It was strange. I was about to get ready to go and find Jools and Beth when he took me by the hand.

"Cara, why don't we go and grab a coffee somewhere?"

I swallowed and felt my heart lurch into my mouth, "Erm, well I don't have any transport, I was going to get home with my friends."

He shrugged, "I'll leave you back, it's no problem."

I was in a quandary and didn't know what to do or say. Why wouldn't I go? What did I want to do? It was only coffee after all. But it seemed like crossing an imperceptible line. A guy essentially asking me out. When I thought about it, I was going to the dinner dance with him on Friday so what was the big deal. I shrugged.

"OK sure, that would be lovely Paul. Just let me tell Jools and Beth."

I strolled over to them and told them my plans. They smiled at me.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Beth asked.

I laughed, "Yes I'll be fine. I'll see you both later."

When we got outside, Paul put his arm around my shoulders again and it seemed only natural to slip my arm around his waist. We walked around the corner and down the street to a warm cosy looking coffee shop called 'CafሠRosso'. Inside there was a coal fire burning in the grate and there was a comfy sofa nearby which Paul guided me to. I took off my coat and sat down. It was lovely to warm up in comfort, as it was a fairly chilly night outside.

Paul sat down beside me and casually slipped his arm around my shoulders again. I looked over at him and smiled. I think I must have looked a little nervous or something, because he shifted in his seat and softly said, "I'm sorry, do you want me to take my arm away?"

I didn't really. It felt nice. I shook my head, "No Paul, please don't." I settled down into the sofa and actually shifted over a bit towards him. He pulled me close 'til our bodies were touching. I felt sure he would be able to feel my heartbeat, which was currently racing. I wasn't exactly sure what was happening. I remembered the girls' warnings about Paul falling for me. But what could I do? I liked him. Was it more than that? I didn't know. I didn't think so. Yes I liked the attention, I mean I really liked it. But was there anything more to it?

A waitress came over and took our order: a latte for me and an espresso for Paul. Just as she was leaving she said, "My, don't you two lovebirds look so comfortable snuggled there together."

I was sure my cheeks must have been crimson. I looked up at Paul and forced a little laugh, "Lovebirds." I tried to pass it off.

He looked down at me and smiled, "Cara, I wish."

I sighed and bit my lower lip. He gently placed a hand on my right leg. Not threateningly in any way. "Cara," he began, "you really are an incredible woman. Over the last few weeks as I've got to know you, I just can't get you out of my mind. There really is something special about you. I can't put my finger on it. I mean obviously you are extremely physically attractive, but you have a certain aura about you which is hard to define."

I felt very uncomfortable now. I rested my hand on top of his. "Paul," I began hesitantly, "I am very flattered by what you say. Truly I am." I paused. What could I say? "I've really enjoyed getting to know you too. You are very dear to me, and as attractive as I find you, our paths are going to go separate ways."

He sighed, "I know. Do you have to leave?"

I nodded, "Yes, I do. My time down here has been so special and I will never forget it. But life goes on and there are things I have to do."

He nodded, "I figured as much." He looked at me almost wistfully, "If things had been different, do you think you and I could have made something of it?"

I smiled, "If things had been different yes I am sure we could." Yes, if I was really a girl and yes if I was sexually attracted to men. Which I'm not. I was fairly sure of that. Or at least I told myself that.

We drank our coffee and chatted and laughed together and after about an hour, we walked arm in arm back to Paul's car.

"You drive a porsche?" I said lightly running my hand over the silver metal.

He shrugged semi-apologetically.

I grinned and winked, "Paul, heck why didn't you say so earlier? This could have changed everything, I'd have given up all my plans and agreed to stay."

He laughed as we got in and drove off, "Ah you see, you're just like all the rest, in love with my car and not with me."

When we arrived at Silsbury Manor and pulled up outside the house, he got out of the car and walked me up to the door. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. There seemed to be some sadness there.

"I can't wait until Friday Cara, let's have a great night together."

"Yes, that sounds wonderful," I replied.

Then he slowly leaned forward and gently gave me a light kiss on the lips, "Goodnight Miss Malone, I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. on Friday." He turned and walked back down to his car. I went inside and closed the door. I wasn't sure how I felt. Inside I was a mixture of whirling emotions. I didn't think I could face the inquest from the girls so I just headed up to my room and got ready for bed.

As I lay there in the dark, my mind was reeling as I replayed the evening's events over and over again. I really did feel a lot for Paul. I had grown to like him a lot and looked forward to the times I spent in his company. Was this what being attracted to a man was like? I didn't think so. I still felt that it was women that I was attracted to. Not that that was going to be helpful given my current appearance. I put my mixed feelings down to the hormones that were undoubtedly ravaging my body and also due to the changes I had been going through over the last four weeks.
 

*          *          *
 
All through my 'training' session with Beth on Wednesday morning, I was itching to get to the piano. I felt a song inside me and wanted to get it out. After lunch, I sat down at the piano and began to play.

It was very much a slow ballad. The lyrical idea was in my head and I knew where it had come from. I felt a little uncomfortable about that, but when the song is coming, just let it out and see what happens. I could hear the song in my head, slow quiet piano verse with light drums and bass joining in the chorus with a slightly distorted solo lead guitar line. I sketched out the words that were in my mind.

When I had finished I just sat there for a moment. It was a moving song. Yet I felt almost uncomfortable having written it. But it was good, or at least I thought so. I entitled it 'Not dancing, but flying'. I played it through:
 
 

"Touch my shoulder and take my hand,  And lead me out to dance,  As you take me in your arms,  It's like I fall into a trance:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying.

 

Never felt this way before,  Never knew it would be like this,  To feel like I'm opening a door,  To feel like it's my first kiss:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying."

 
 
And then I moved into the bridge, in which I upped the tempo, and the vocal moved up in pitch and intensity. I could imagine the drums picking up, and the guitar squealing melancholically:
 
 

"But why is that life can snatch away,  A joy almost before it's born,  For when the night is done and tomorrow comes,  One of us will be gone:

 

When I'm in your arms and you hold me tight,  There's no place for tears or crying,  As we dance and move across the floor,  I want to hold you closer more and more,  But now I know even after this last night,  When I'm with you: I'm not dancing...I'm flying,

 

And whenever I will think or dream of you,  We're not dancing, but flying."

 
 
I stopped and drew breath. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster this one. But it had to come out. And yes, for artistic licence purposes, I felt I had over interpreted the reality. Or had I? It was cathartic to write it and sing it. But it was very strange, because essentially I had just written my first love song about a man.

It was a love song granted, but did the song really mirror the truth. I didn't really think so. It was born out of an intensity of new emotions and new circumstances. Though I didn't feel that denigrated the song's worth. I left the music room, grabbed my coat and went to get a breath of fresh air outside. Five songs.
 

*          *          *
 
Over breakfast on Thursday I tackled the girls about what was happening regarding a dress for me for Friday night's dance. They tried to stall me again but I was having none of it this time.

"I'm not dropping the subject until you tell me what the plan is. Otherwise, I'm going right into town this instant and sorting myself out with something." I sort of stamped my foot and put my hands on my hips indignantly.

They both sniggered but eventually relented. "Alright," said Jools reluctantly, "shall we show her Beth?"

Beth nodded, "I think so. She's a stubborn one this girl."

Jools took me by the hand and led me upstairs. Just outside her room, she made me close my eyes; she led me in and then told me to open them. I gasped and my hand flung to my mouth. For there, hanging on Jools' closet door was the black dress I had tried on in town.

"I don't believe it!" I exclaimed. "But how is this here? What? I don't understand."

Beth giggled and took my hand, "Cara dear, consider this a Christmas present from Jools and I. I think you will enjoy it."

I don't know why, but for the second time that week I cried. I felt the tears welling up and I tried to stem the flow. I was fairly disgusted with myself, but I was glad I hadn't put my makeup on yet. I bit my lower lip and tried to get control before speaking.

"But you shouldn't have, I mean I know how horrendously expensive this is."

Jools waved a hand, "Rubbish, it's only what you deserve. You've been through so much the past few weeks, you totally deserve it. And we both wanted to get it for you."

"How did you know my size?" I wondered.

Beth grinned guiltily, "Well after you told us about seeing the dress, we got this idea and the next morning Jools nipped into town and the shop assistant remembered this black haired beauty who had tried the dress on. Not many people have tried it on, so she remembered which size she gave you."

I smiled and gave them both a big hug and kiss on the cheek. "I love you both," I said and tried not to cry again. We had a big group hug. But eventually Jools broke the hug.

"Enough!" she said, "I have to see how this dress looks on you."

I feigned a shrug, "Oh I don't know, maybe I'll try it on later." But by the looks they gave me, I knew they didn't buy it for an instant. I laughed, "Oh alright, I'm dying to try it on again too."

It fit me absolutely perfectly, just like it had in the shop. I revelled in the sensation of the satin skirt whirling around me as I moved. I realised that I would have to be quite careful when I sat down as the slits could reveal a lot more leg than a lady should. I applied my makeup and brushed out my hair. I had made Jools and Beth wait outside my room until I was ready to show them. I heard Jools complaining outside the door. "C'mon Cara, stop being such a woman -- you're taking ages in there."

At last, I was happy with my appearance. I was wearing black sheer silk stockings and my 4-inch high heels. I had managed to dance fairly well in them the other night so I figured they were the only shoes for this outfit. I opened the door and struck a pose. In an affected low sultry voice I said with a coquettish smile, "Worth waiting for ladies?"

I saw their eyes widen. Jools slowly shook her head and Beth gave a low whistle. Beth protested, "It really isn't fair. No-one should be allowed to be that beautiful and sexy. I'm jealous."

"Me too," murmured Jools, but I could see a look in her eyes. It looked like pride. "You look absolutely ravishing Cara. I'm so happy for you."

I smiled, "Thank you."

Beth looked at me seriously, "How does it feel to be... I mean for you to realise that you not only look like a woman, but a totally stunning woman at that."

I paused. I felt a little uncomfortable at her questioning. Jools noticed and tried to butt in, "C'mon Beth, don't put her on the spot like that."

I raised a hand. "No it's OK Jools. How does it feel?" I mused. After a moment I gave a little smile, "It feels good. It feels really good."

Beth smiled and squeezed my arm, "You really mean that? I mean I see you looking fabulous, in every way a lovely woman, and I just worry about how you really are inside."

Beth truly was a lovely caring person. She was different to her sister. Jools was fantastic: driven, ambitious, fun, compassionate yes, but Beth had a real tender heart.

I squeezed Beth's arm in return, "Don't worry." I paused, "I'm not pretending it's a walk in the park. I'm not saying it's easy and I know there are potentially very difficult times ahead." I swallowed, "But these past few weeks have been some of the happiest weeks of my life. Maybe that's just the wonderful company and friendship I've enjoyed. But I think I have to admit that I like who I've become and there's something intoxicating about being attractive and desirable." I tried to make a joke and lighten the mood, "I mean for the first time in my life, I am actually almost sexy."

Jools laughed and snorted, "Almost sexy? Darling, I hate to tell you but looking at you right now, you are the complete personification of sexy."

We all laughed. It was with some regret that I hung my lovely dress up in my closet and got changed.
 

*          *          *
 
I spent Thursday afternoon and Friday morning polishing up the last two songs I had written and laying down some backing tracks. For 'Not dancing, but flying' I laid down some nice strings tracks. It sounded good.

It wasn't easy to sing. Not that it was particularly vocally challenging. Not at all. My female vocal had got stronger and stronger over the past few weeks and it now seemed like second nature. Rather it was the words that were hard to sing. But I knew it was good.

It was another expression of the me that I had become. That I was becoming. Beth had had to go into her salon on Friday morning to sort some things out. This gave me time to work on the songs in the morning. I wanted to start getting ready early on Friday afternoon for the dance and Beth had promised to help me.

I spent an obscene length of time in a warm scented bubbly bath and then washed and conditioned my hair. I was sitting in my robe combing my wet hair when Beth knocked on the door and came in. She proceeded to take over and helped me blow dry my hair. She added hairspray here, there and everywhere. She said she wanted to give my hair real body tonight. When it was dry, she began to sweep it up on top of my head and added pins at strategic places. Next she tied pieces of rag into my hair at the sides winding my hair around them and then sprayed with hair spray again. I was a bit puzzled, but she assured me she knew what she was doing. I believed her.

She had brought a portable electrolysis kit home from the salon and proceeded to give my face another treatment. It really didn't take too long as there was hardly any remaining hair. She felt that I wouldn't need any more treatments from now on. She also persuaded me into letting her wax my legs again to ensure I was perfectly smooth. It was extremely painful yet again. I had not had any significant growth of body hair anywhere else since the first waxing.

She took an inordinate amount of time over my makeup. The foundation was expertly blended in. She went for a more dramatic look with my eye makeup. I thought she was going overboard with the dark black eyeliner, but I kept my peace. The eye shadow was more defined than ever before. I also thought my eyelashes were going to break with the amount of mascara she was adding. But the result was perfectly teased out prominent black lashes. She carefully highlighted my cheek bones with rouge and then began to work on my lips. She added lip liner first and then applied ruby red lipstick with a brush. She painted my lips expertly and then, after getting me to blot them, added a coat of lip gloss. She painted my fingernails in the same bright shade of red.

As I looked at my face, I had to admit that she did indeed know what she doing. The effect was quite striking. Although I was wearing a lot of makeup, for an evening dance she assured me it was perfect. It certainly looked it.

Beth managed to squeeze another inch or two off my waist by viciously tightening my corset for me. Although I wanted to complain, I didn't really mind. Paradoxical I know. She removed the tied in rags from my hair and I realised what she was striving for. Most of my long hair was swept up at the back on top of my head, but cascading down each side of my face were curly ringlets. It looked amazing, even though I say so myself.

I slid my legs into my stockings and then Beth helped me into my dress and zipped it up at the back. I slipped my feet into my high heels. I added my new silver necklace and bracelet. I really wanted to wear the new silver drop earrings that I had bought and Beth assured me that since it was now four weeks since I had had my ears pierced, there should be no problem. I gingerly removed the hoops from the lower holes in my ears. I gently worked my new earrings in. Beth was right, the holes had healed and there was no problem.

Another sign of how many obstacles there would be to me reverting to my old self. If that was what I wanted. Right now, I couldn't imagine that. Beth carefully spritzed me with perfume in strategic locations and left me to gather myself as it was nearly seven p.m.

Ready at last and now that I was alone, I checked out the full picture in the mirror. I was completely overwhelmed. If when I was Nick, I had seen a woman looking like I did right now, I think I would have been flabbergasted and overcome with desire. In some senses I was still overcome with desire. Desire to keep looking like a beautiful woman.

It really was quite amazing. Prior to the last four weeks, I had never had any thoughts of myself as a woman. I had never tried on women's clothing before. Had this been latent inside me all these years? It just felt so right at present.

My reverie was interrupted by Jools shouting up the stairs, "Cara, he's coming, I've just buzzed him in the main gates."

I felt my heart rise into my mouth and with a last look in the mirror, I went downstairs. Jools' eyes nearly popped out of her head, "My God, you look awesome!" Then she shook her head and refocused, "But what are you doing down already?"

I shrugged, "You called me and I'm ready."

She shook her head again, "No, you are never ready before the man arrives. You want to keep him waiting a few moments so he realises how worth waiting for, you are. So shoo!"

I grinned and headed back upstairs. I heard the doorbell ring. After a moment, Jools opened it and I heard her greet Paul. "Cara, Paul's here," she called up the stairs to me.

"Just a moment, I'm almost ready," I called down. I was standing at the top of the stairs completely ready, but made myself count to 200 before even thinking about moving. I heard Jools and Paul making polite conversation and eventually I slowly and gracefully descended the stairs. Paul was in mid sentence saying something to Jools when he spotted me. He stopped speaking and fixed his eyes on me as I walked slowly down the last few steps.

"Hi Paul," I said suddenly feeling quite shy. He just stood and stared at me, his mouth open. He didn't speak. "Erm Paul, are you OK?" I asked.

He shook his head slowly before speaking with a little smile on his face, "I don't think so. I think I've died and gone to heaven. Heavens above Cara, you look absolutely wonderful...I don't think I can find the words to do you justice."

I blushed from head to toe and looked away for a moment, feeling very self-conscious. I saw Jools slinking away, leaving us alone just inside the door. I smiled at Paul and walked up to him. I reached up to straighten his bow tie. He was wearing a brilliant white dress shirt and an immaculate perfect fitting tux which he filled out completely. "You don't look half bad yourself," I said, "I would almost think that tux had been designed and tailored for you alone."

He laughed and smiled down at me, "It was. But you, I mean,...wow!"

I laughed and gave him a little poke, "Now stop that, you're embarrassing me."

He winked at me and said, "I don't think I'm fit to drive tonight."

I humoured him, "OK why not?"

"Well I won't be able to watch the road as for this whole evening I'll be unable to tear my eyes away from you."

I laughed and poked him again, harder this time, "Oh you! Now come on, are we going dancing or not?"

"We certainly are," he said with a flourish which led to a bow and him taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. He stood up straight and offered me his arm. I couldn't help but giggle as he helped me on with my jacket and led me out of the door. He held open the door of the Porsche for me and I was extra careful to preserve my dignity as I got in, making sure none of the slits in my dress exposed me. Despite my best efforts, I think Paul got a more than generous glance at my stocking clad leg and thigh. I heard him give a low appreciative whistle as he closed the door. As we drove into Plymouth he kept looking over at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road driver," I admonished with mock severity. I couldn't help myself. I was very naughty but couldn't resist crossing and uncrossing my ankles and in the process letting one of the slits expose my legs again. I made a fuss of rearranging my dress immediately, but I knew that he saw. I felt deliciously mischievous.

"Cara, you are a tease!" he protested.

"Moi?" I exclaimed raising a hand to my chest, "Dear sir, you dost wound me."

He laughed, "But as I'm the luckiest man in the country tonight, I'll forgive you this once."

We arrived at the town hall and again he insisted on getting the car door for me. This time getting out of the car, I took extra care in preventing myself from indecent exposure as there were a fair number of people in the car park. I slipped my arm inside his and we went inside. As we ascended the front steps he murmured to me, "Oh I think I should probably warn you, the table we are at, will have a few people from my work at it. And well, that includes my parents."

"Paul!" I hissed, "That's terrible. Oh my goodness, talk about pressure. What have you told them?"

He smiled and patted my hand, "Only that I'm bringing along the most beautiful and delightful woman I have ever met and that I am sure they will approve of you."

"I think I feel sick," I moaned.

"Oh now come on, it won't be that bad. My parents are nice people. Well alright, my mother will probably be making less than subtle comments about marriage and the like. She is ever hopeful that her eldest son will settle down with a nice girl. And my colleagues are likely to do a bit of teasing, but apart from that, it will be fine."

"I definitely feel sick now!" I thought to myself that his poor mother would probably be horrified if she knew the truth about the 'nice girl' cavorting with her son. But then again, so probably would Paul himself. I sighed and took a deep breath and just tried to be as natural as I could.

The main hall was festively decorated and there was a large Christmas tree in one corner. Tables were laid out around the sides of the hall, leaving a large dance floor in the middle. There were a lot of people already here and the buzz of conversation made the place seem alive. We made our way to our assigned table and most people were already there and seated. When we arrived the men stood up.

I spotted Paul's father before anyone made any introductions. He was a handsome man, probably in his late fifties and looked like Paul. He had dark hair with silver streaks through it. He walked over, shook Paul's hand and turning to me, but speaking to Paul said, "So this must be the girl that has captured your heart Paul." He turned to me with a smile, "Paul told me he was bringing a beautiful woman, but I see that not for the first time, he wasn't telling me the truth."

I blinked a few times and smiled quizzically. What was he implying? He laughed and taking my hand lightly and shaking it said, "Because his words didn't do justice to how lovely you are. You must be Cara Malone. I'm Paul's father, Ronald Davis."

I shook my head slowly and laughed softly, "Well now I can see where Paul gets his devastating charm and good looks from."

Ronald raised an eyebrow and turned to Paul, "Not only beautiful but sharp-witted too."

Before Paul could say anything, an attractive middle-aged lady joined us and interrupted, "Now Ronald, I see I'm going to have to keep you in check tonight." She turned to me and smiled, "I'm Paul's mother, Lorraine. Delighted to meet you Cara. Although I fear I'm going to have to berate my husband all night to keep his eyes off you. Now come here with me and sit beside me and let's get to know each other."

As uneasy as I felt, Lorraine was easygoing and very friendly. It was easy to talk to her and she told me about her family including the obligatory embarrassing stories about Paul in his younger days. Much to his disgust of course. He sat on the other side of me and occasionally groaned at what his mother was telling me.

As others arrived at the table, the gentlemen stood up. I almost reflexively stood, when I realised that none of the other women at the table moved. I kept my seat.

Paul introduced me to several colleagues and their wives. The women looked at me with interest, and the men looked even closer with more than interest at times. I felt as if I was on display or worse, on trial. Several of his colleagues gave Paul a hearty handshake with a wink or nod and a smile. When they thought I wasn't looking I saw a few give him the thumbs up as they nodded in my direction. I felt embarrassed yet flattered at the same time.

As dinner was served, Lorraine insisted that I tell her all about myself. I tried not to give too much away and gave her basic details about my younger days and family. She asked about what I did and I explained that I was a singer and musician. I'm not sure that this was completely well received. I got the impression that I was moving in a circle of society wives and homemakers. Nonetheless she was charming and interested and made me tell her more about my music.

The dinner was good. It was a traditional Christmas dinner. I found however, that I couldn't eat too much. It was probably a combination of the restrictive nature of my corset and the nervousness of the moment. I had deflected all attempts to refill my wineglass. And I only drank about half of the glass of red wine that I started with. I noted that Paul didn't drink any. He saw me looking, winked at me and quipped, "I'm driving and transporting far too precious a cargo tonight to even consider drinking."

As the dessert course was cleared away and the coffee was served, Lorraine leant closer to me and conspiratorially said, "So is it true that you are going back to London and won't be around for a while?"

I nodded, "I'm afraid so. I was only staying here to get some inspiration for some new songs. I'm heading back on Sunday."

"Will you be back down here again?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I'm not really sure. I guess I might be."

She sighed, "Such a shame. You know my son is looking for a wife and I have to say, of the few potentials I have met in recent years, you are by far the loveliest and the most charming."

I didn't know what to say but was spared from immediately replying by Paul's intervention. "Mum!" he groaned, "Please! Don't embarrass both Cara and me. I've told you that we're just friends."

She gave Paul a knowing look, "Yes of course dear. So pray tell, what is wrong with this lovely girl that you wouldn't consider her in such a regard."

He looked even more uncomfortable now and I was glad he was on the receiving end of the questions and not I. He sighed, "She is beautiful, charming, intelligent, witty...," he paused and then shrugged before continuing almost resignedly, "Yes you are right, there is absolutely no reason why I wouldn't harbour such feelings about her." He looked into my eyes and smiled apologetically.

Lorraine turned to me. She really was unrelenting, "So Cara my dear, what do you think of my darling son?"

I paused and then smiled, "I think Paul is one of the most handsome and wonderfully charming men I have ever had the pleasure of keeping company with." This was quite true. But it wasn't enough for her.

"So?" she said encouraging me.

I shrugged awkwardly, "Well, it's just that our lives are going in different directions at the moment..."

She sighed, "Such a shame."

Thankfully we were spared further torture as the band started and people began to get up to dance. Paul seized the moment and stood up, "Would you care to dance Cara?"

"I'd love to," I gratefully accepted and he led me to the dance floor.

As we began to waltz, Paul apologised, "Cara I'm so sorry. I must apologise for my mother. She was even worse than usual tonight. I've never seen her so bad."

I laughed, "Paul your mother is a darling. From what I can see, she just adores her son and is doing her best to fix him up. I like her."

He smiled sheepishly, "I think that I'm not the only one that she adores too. She has taken a real shine to you." He paused before admitting softly, "And she's not the only one."

"Oh Paul," I said squeezing his hand. I didn't really know what else to say. I began to relax and enjoy the dancing. From being so foreign to me a few weeks ago, it seemed so natural now. Even though I was in my near-stiletto high heels, in Paul's arms I was able to dance quite freely. We enjoyed several dances before in a brief pause, we were interrupted. It was Paul's father.

"Now Paul, don't think you are going to monopolise this beautiful young woman all night. Move aside and let me show her how to really dance."

Paul laughed and gave his father a playful punch on the shoulder, "Alright Dad, but I want her back soon you hear."

Ronald waved him off with a smile and turned to me. He bowed and said, "May I have the pleasure?"

I laughed, curtsied and replied, "Why yes indeed." It was a Foxtrot and I realised that Paul had taken after his father in another way also. His father was quite the expert dancer too. Whilst not quite as nimble on his toes as Paul, he had quite a few extravagant moves to demonstrate.

"You're a lovely girl Cara and the last few weeks I've seen Paul a lot happier, if slightly more distracted, than I've seen him in a long time. You make a lovely couple. Now that's all I'm going to say as I'm sure my wife has already said far too much."

I laughed at him and looking up blinked a few times feeling embarrassed, "Thank you."

He laughed, "Oh my. Don't look at me that way girl. Now if I was 30 years younger," he paused and winked looking over his shoulder, "...and not married..." He laughed. So did I.

Paul sent his father packing after a few dances and when we started to dance again he was curious to know what his father had said. I told him. He laughed, "The old dog!"

As much as I wanted to dance with Paul for the rest of the night, every now and then we would be interrupted as other men, mostly Paul's colleagues, asked if they could cut in. Whilst it was flattering and intoxicating to receive so much attention, I got a little tired of making pleasant talk. Most of the men were not as good dancers as the Davis' men either. And the looks that I was attracting from their wives were a little disconcerting.

Paul rescued me as soon as possible and I whispered to him, "I just want to dance with you for the rest of the night if that's OK."

He smiled tenderly at me, "Fine by me."

As the evening was coming to a close, the last dance started. It wasn't a waltz or anything I was familiar with. In fact it seemed to be a slow dance. I noticed other partners drawing closer together and I felt my heart rate quicken. Paul smiled at me and gently pulled me closer to him. I slid my arms around his neck and felt his arms encircle my waist as he pulled our bodies together. We began to slowly sway to the music. He murmured into my ear, "Cara I wish this night would never end." Then he laughed softly, "Sorry, I know how corny that sounds."

I laughed and rested my head on one of his shoulders, "I know what you mean Paul."

We danced and held each other close. It was a special moment and I didn't think about it or rationalise it. I just enjoyed it. When the music came to an end, I raised my head and Paul smiled down at me. He leant forward and gently kissed me on the forehead and said, "Thank you so much for coming with me tonight."

I smiled, "Thank you for asking me. I really enjoyed it."

We said our goodbyes and I had to promise Lorraine I would come back to Plymouth to see her. But I think she meant for me to come back and see Paul. Ronald kissed me on the cheek and winked as Lorraine gave him a slap from behind. It was only when I got into Paul's car that I realised how tired I was. And how much my feet were hurting. I lay back in the seat and kicked off my shoes and curled up a little. Paul sat for a moment just looking at me and smiling before starting the car and driving off.
 

*          *          *
 
We drove back to Silsbury Manor in comfortable silence. It wasn't awkward at all. I buzzed the gates open and Paul stopped the car in front of the house. He smiled at me and said, "You know, you still haven't made good on your promise."

I smiled back, "And what promise is that pray tell?"

"You promised to sing and play for me and I have not yet had the pleasure."

I raised an eyebrow, "I promised that? How rash of me." I paused, "Well then, I guess you had better come in and I'll make good on my promise."

It was now past midnight and I reckoned the girls were probably in bed. At least Silsbury Manor was large enough that sound was unlikely to travel. I led Paul to the music room and closed the door. Suddenly I felt shy and self-conscious. "Paul, do you really want me to sing to you, I mean I feel kind of awkward."

He took my hand, "I'd love to hear you sing, but if you really don't want to, that's OK."

How could I refuse? I sighed, smiled and sat down at the piano, taking extra care to smooth my dress. I paused for a moment. What would I play him? "Paul, what do you want me to play for you? One of my own songs? Or something you'll recognise?"

"Oh one of your own songs definitely," he replied enthusiastically as he took up a position leaning on the grand piano in front of me. I nodded and thought. Which one would I play him? Not dancing, but flying. No. I couldn't. Yet it seemed only right that he heard it first. I swallowed, took a deep breath and started in. As I played and sang, I couldn't bring myself to look at him, I tried to forget he was there and focussed on the music. I brought it to its melancholic soulful finish, "And whenever I will think or dream of you, we're not dancing, but flying."

I stopped and sat there for a moment before I could look up at him. His chin was cupped in his hand as he leant on the piano. He was looking at me intently. He didn't say anything. I felt awkward and shrugged, "Well?" I smiled unsurely.

"You're amazing," he said softly. I laughed gently and looked away, waving a hand at him. "No seriously," he continued, "your playing is fantastic, the song is as good as anything I've heard and your voice is incredible." He paused, "That song?"

I nodded, "What about it?"

"When did you write it?" he asked as he walked over to beside where I was sitting.

I hesitated before answering, "Wednesday past, this week."

He nodded slowly, "I don't want to presume anything about who it is about or anything." He let his voice tail off.

I swallowed and looked down for a moment before looking up at him again. I replied softly, "It's about you Paul. It's about the wonderful time I've had with you, about the fantastic dancing and about how I'll never forget these past few weeks."

He smiled and took my hands in his and gently helped me onto my feet. "I'm really touched Cara, it's a beautiful song. Thank you." I shrugged awkwardly and looked down, but he lifted my chin gently with one of his hands. "Cara," he said softly, "may I kiss you?"

I swallowed hard and felt my stomach turn somersaults. My mind was screaming out that I couldn't kiss another man but I heard my voice betray me, "Yes Paul, I'd like that." He smiled and with his hand still gently under my chin, tilted my head up and leaned down.

His lips brushed mine softly. I felt as if my legs were going to turn to jelly and it seemed like a maelstrom of different emotions flooded my body. He smiled at me and raised an eyebrow as if asking a question. I nodded and he lowered his head to mine again. This time his lips pressed against mine firmly and he put his around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. It seemed only natural so I slid my arms around his neck. He kissed me with growing hunger and as my lips parted, I felt his tongue gently probe my mouth. My head was spinning from one extreme to another. From thinking that it was all wrong, to how much I was actually enjoying it.

After a few minutes we broke apart and Paul just held me close to himself in his arms. With what looked like sadness and regret in his eyes he looked down at me, "Cara Malone, my life will be so much duller without you."

I stroked his cheek, "Oh Paul. My life has become so much richer for having met you. Let's treasure the memories of good times rather than think of the downside."

He nodded and sighed, "You're right. But I will miss you. Stay in touch and don't forget me when you're famous."

I laughed, "I won't, I promise."

He broke the embrace and went over to get something from his coat. He came back with a little box shaped item wrapped in silver paper. He handed it to me shyly.

"What's this?" I asked curiously.

He smiled, "It's a little Christmas present for you."

My hand flew to my mouth, "Paul, I didn't get you anything. I'm so sorry. I never thought."

He shrugged, "You don't need to get me anything." He paused, "Sure you gave me the gift of this lovely song." With a wink he continued, "Plus you can send me a signed copy of your top selling album when it comes out."

I laughed, "I'll do that." I eagerly opened the wrapping paper to find a little black box. I opened it and inside was an exquisite pair of diamond stud earrings. I gasped, "Paul, they're absolutely lovely. You shouldn't have!"

He shrugged, "It's not much really. I just wanted to get you something to remember me by."

I hugged him, "Thank you so much Paul." We sort of stood there awkwardly then. He smiled and shifted, saying, "Well I guess this is it. I'd better be getting home." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some business cards, "Here, all my contact details. Make sure you stay in touch."

I took them, "I promise I will." We walked to the front door, arm in arm. He put on his coat and then turned back to me, taking me in his arms and tenderly kissed me again. "Goodbye my love," he said softly as he opened the door to leave.

"Bye Paul," I said and waved as he descended the steps. I stood there until the taillights of his car faded as he drove down the driveway. Eventually I went inside and closed the door. I walked slowly upstairs to my room.

I really wasn't sure how I felt. Sad? Yes. Puzzled? Most definitely. Whilst I had revelled in the occasion of the evening, what with the glamour and the dancing, and whilst I had certainly responded to Paul's touch and kiss, I still felt perplexed. Part of me felt that it wasn't right. I certainly had feelings for Paul, but what kind of feelings? Deep down inside, I still felt that it wasn't right for me to think of such feelings for another man.

These were the thoughts whirling around inside my head as I removed my makeup, brushed out my hair and got undressed for bed. My last thought before getting into bed however was to scribble a brief note and stick it on the outside of my door:

 

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