We flew back to Rio on Tuesday morning and went straight back to Maria’s place where we made love for the rest of the day. On Wednesday, she took me shopping again and we came back with bags and bags of new clothes. She was incredibly generous. Wednesday afternoon I modelled my purchases in between bouts of love making that lasted the rest of the day and most of the night.

Thursday morning dawned and Maria was already up when I awoke. I got up groggily and wandered off in my night gown to find her. She was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. I walked up to her and she grabbed my backside and pulled me towards her smiling as she tucked my hair back from my face over one ear. “Mmmm. Good Morning Lover. Even with bed hair you look cute!”

She kissed me on the nose. She took some eggs from the pan and arranged them over two plates and we sat at the table.

“I’ve an office I need to get back to running at some point.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “It’s been fun, though. It will be kind of a shame to go back to being boring old Dave.”

She put down her fork and looked at me intently. “Then don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stay as Sue.”

“Shit, Maria, that’s a big step. I don’t know…”

“Look.” She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. “The last few days have been incredible haven’t they?’

“Yes, but…”

“And you’ve had more fun as Sue than you ever had as Dave.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“And you love the feel of wearing sexy clothes and lingerie, and putting make up on.”

I sighed and she went on. “But most of all, you’ve already said how people treat you better when you’re Sue. You’re more confident, more vivacious…I don’t think she wants to go back in a box.”

“But going back to the office…”

“You’ll be fine. They’re nice people. They’ll understand.”

“And my flatmates…”

She gripped my hands tighter and raised herself up in her chair. “Move in with me.” She pulled me close, ran one hand through my hair and kissed me gently. “I love you Sue. Let me help you. I’ll be with you all the way.”

And so Maria arranged to have the few bits and pieces I kept at the flat picked up and brought around to her place. I was a bag of nerves but over the weekend she was by my side constantly. We picked out a wardrobe for me to wear that week. We practised my make up and she showed me how to do my hair using straighteners and curling irons to make different styles. By the time Monday morning arrived I had actually calmed down a little. After our discussion on Thursday she’d gone into the office the following day and made an announcement about me, so everyone there knew what to expect. She was right. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. No one laughed and no one called me names. Some of the guys I’d been friendly with became a bit reticent and I don’t think the girls I worked with knew quite what to make of me either, but with the SERPO commission I had plenty to keep me busy during the day, and Maria to keep me happy at night. Gradually, things settled into a routine.

Maria and I had been travelling to Sao Paolo every couple of weeks or so. The job was going well. Tony Jr. had appointed himself our minder during our visits and he would meet us off the helipad and look after us during our stay. He was very attentive, much to Maria’s amusement. She continued to tease me about him being sweet for me and enjoyed watching me squirm with embarrassment whenever she mentioned it.

In truth, there was something about Tony that I couldn’t put my finger on. At the Magic Ball he’d come across as some kind of obnoxious playboy type. He was good looking of course, and rich, but gave me the impression that that meant he didn’t need to try too hard to get the girl. Over the weeks we’d been working together my opinion had shifted. His playboy persona was a front and as I’d got to know him I realised he used it in certain scenarios, like at Carnaval, to hide a natural shyness with women. Maria told me he’d gone to an all-boys school and I suspected he found relating to women more difficult than he would admit. In a work environment he was more relaxed. He had a dry sense of humour that helped the days pass more easily and he was so eager to help us with the project that he could almost be like a small puppy sometimes.

And yet, somehow, the more time we spent together, the more apprehensive I felt about him. It wasn’t something I could articulate very well, and I didn’t mention anything to Maria, but I felt a strong sense that I had met him for a reason and that he had some, as yet unknown, role to play in my life. I could sense his presence when he came into a room. When our bodies occasionally touched across a desk at a meeting, or stood in a lift, the sensation was disconcerting. It made me uncomfortable. I was blissfully happy with Maria, and I was loving our work, but I began to dread our trips to Sao Paolo.

We’d been working on the project a couple of months and our next visit was due the following day. This time we were going to stay overnight – a day of meetings with department heads within SERPO about their space planning requirements followed by a meeting the next day with the planning department. Maria had come home from work that evening complaining of not feeling well after a lunch with a client. Sure enough, during the course of the night, she was sick several times. I didn’t want to leave her by herself when she was ill but she was insistent that I should go. “It’s only a bit of food poisoning – I’ll be fine. If you don’t go it will take us ages to re-book the meeting with the planners.”

I didn’t want to go by myself. As Sue, I’d got used to always having Maria around. She couldn’t understand it. “You’re more confident as Sue than you ever were as Dave” she’d said, and it was true that after two months full time, the way I spoke, walked and acted as Sue all now came naturally.

“I’m worried that without you there, Tony might make a pass at me.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Look, that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have teased you about it. He’s a nice guy – honestly. Remember I’ve known him for ever…”

I couldn’t tell her what I really thought though. It wasn’t Tony making a pass I was worried about, it was how I might react to it if he did.

The following morning Tony met me at the helipad as was our usual arrangement. If he was secretly glad to get me to himself because Maria was ill he didn’t show it – he looked genuinely upset when I told him the news. We had a couple of internal meetings with SERPO department heads in the morning which ran on until after 1pm. We were due to start again at 2pm so we headed to the staff canteen for a quick bite to eat beforehand. After being tense since I left Rio I’d relaxed a little after an uneventful morning and his question caught me off guard.

“So. Seeing as you’re in Sao Paolo tonight and on your own. There’s an oil industry dinner on in town tonight. I wondered if you’d like to accompany me?”

“Oh! That would have been lovely. If only you’d mentioned it before I left Rio. I don’t have anything to wear…” I inwardly congratulated myself on how smoothly I talked my way out of it.

“That’s ok. I’ll get a personal shopper from Daslu to call around at your hotel with a selection of dresses. My treat.”

Damn. I paused for a moment. I’d painted myself into a corner with my answer and couldn’t come up with a way out. “That’s too generous of you, really…”

“Not at all. It’s my pleasure.”

The lady from Daslu was waiting for me when I got back to my hotel later that afternoon. It took several bellboys to wheel a large rack of dresses and several boxes of shoes, bags and other items up to my room. After several months of living in Brazil I’d learned that the people there didn’t do understated and my opinion was reinforced by the dresses on offer. There were slits up to the waist and necklines plunging down to the waist, and dresses where only a few strategically placed sequins on an otherwise sheer material protected the modesty of the wearer. There was every conceivable kind of animal skin, the most enormous shoulder pads I’d seen since I’d last watched a game of American football, and creations with feathers that would have looked daring in a Carnaval parade. At last, hidden away amid a riot of colour and sparkle, I spied something more like what I was looking for – a simple long black satin gown with a cowl neckline that didn’t reveal too much cleavage. I took it into the bathroom to try it on.

The first thing I noticed was that, even though it had a nice modest neckline at the front, at the back it plunged right down to the top of the skirt. The material was gorgeous. Even after dressing full time for several weeks I still got shivers when I pulled on a dress like this. I’d become completely addicted to satin nightgowns over the last two months and, thanks to Maria’s generosity, was the proud owner of more of them than I could possibly justify, but this dress felt incredibly luxurious. It was both a heavier weight and softer than I’d been used to wearing. I eased the straps over my shoulders and smoothed the material down over my belly and hips. The dress was bias cut, and it clung tightly to my body down to my knees, where it flared just enough that I could teeter across the bathroom in tiny steps. I’d been dieting over the last few weeks so I didn’t have to wear a waist cincher all the time and the clingy fabric accentuated my developing curves. I turned this way and that as I spoke to my reflection in the mirror. “Damn, Sue, You’re supposed to be going for demure not sexy…” But it made me feel so good.

I stepped out of the bathroom again, the fabric pulling deliciously over my legs and bum, the skirt whooshing around my feet with each step. The lady from Daslu beamed. “Wow! That’s the one! Now, what about shoes, lingerie?...”

I picked out some heels and a small velvet clutch bag. The dress was too low at the back to wear a bra and, ever since my last shopping experience at Daslu, I’d fallen in love with the sensations of wearing a thong. I picked out a pretty black lace one from the selection she’d brought along.

Despite all the hours of practice I’d had with Maria it took me several attempts to get my hair the way I wanted it. I’d swept it into quite a high up-do, but with some loose curls hanging down so that it didn’t look too formal. I’d still not quite mastered curling tongues and it took longer than I thought to get it looking just right. Make up was more straightforward, but even so I wasn’t ready by the time Tony called to collect me. I buzzed him up so he could wait in my room and called through the bathroom door “Won’t be long!” It made me smile – I’d been on the other side of the door on many occasions. I brushed a final coat of mascara on my lashes and fixed my lips. I slipped into my heels and popped the gloss into my clutch. I stood up, and smoothed down my dress. A final check in the mirror. Two months of doing my own make up every day, and lots of tuition from Maria, had fine-tuned my skills. My smoky eyes were blended to perfection and I’d learned how to contour; blush and powder emphasising my sculpted cheekbones and my slim nose. My bee-stung lips were elegantly glossed. Every time I dressed, I was becoming more expert in the art of making myself beautiful, but tonight I thought I looked better than I ever had. I wished that Maria could see me, but I’d sensed for a while that this moment would come with Tony.

I stepped out of the bathroom quietly and stood facing him.

“Wow! Sue, you look stunning!”

I smiled. “You’re such a charmer. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed.

“Thank you for the dress, by the way. I love it!” I gave him a little twirl. “It’s a bit tight, though. I hope we’re not going to be dancing any tango later on.” I always resorted to crap jokes when I was nervous.

Tony stepped towards me. “I have something for you. Here.” He held a jewellery box out for me to take.

“Tony, I…”

“I should say, I mean, these are just for you to borrow. They were my mothers. I thought you would look wonderful in them tonight.”

I opened the box and gasped. There was a necklace and matching earrings inside. The earrings were a beautifully elegant row of seven diamonds hanging down in a strip about two inches long. The necklace had diamonds of a similar size arranged into a sweetheart neckline shape. They were the sort of thing I might have expected Elizabeth Taylor to wear, and were probably worth more than my mum and dad’s house.

“Tony. I’ve never seen anything like them! They’re beautiful!”

He looked bashful for a moment. “Here, let me fasten it for you.”

He took the necklace and clipped it carefully at the nape of my neck. I clipped the earrings into place. I turned to the mirror again. If my dress had been any more blingy it wouldn’t have worked, but the simplicity of the black satin showed off the diamonds perfectly. I was almost overcome.

“Tony. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never worn anything like this before. I feel like a princess…”

He grinned widely and held out his arm. “And you shall go to the ball…”

His car was waiting outside the hotel lobby. Although it was now dark, it was a balmy night and the hood was down. He opened my door, and helped me lower myself carefully into the seat. I remembered our first conversation at Carnaval and smiled with irony.

“It looks like you managed to get me into your Maserati after all…”

We drove to the dinner in silence. I was deep in thought. I felt like an actor in a play. I could speak my lines but the script was already written, the ending was pre-ordained, I could no longer influence what happened. Dressing up for Carnaval, introducing myself as Sue to Antonio, agreeing to present the competition scheme, Maria getting ill, Tony asking me to dinner; all were scenes in a play leading to the final act tonight. It was to be the denouement – the final destination in my journey into womanhood. And as I had intuited, Tony was to be there with me.

I don’t remember many details from the evening. The meal passed uneventfully. I played my role; made small talk with the guests sat next to me, but my nerves were overtaking me now. I felt an impending sense of doom. I longed for Maria to be there, or any familiar faces. I wondered what my old friends from Liverpool were up to. I drank too much wine, and smoked too many cigarettes.

After the meal Tony said there were a few people he needed to catch up with. I clung to his arm. I joined in with the laughter when someone made a joke, but the conversation flowed over me. When I looked past who was speaking, I imagined I could see the men at the party staring at me, undressing me with their eyes. I saw the women whispering to each other and thought I could hear them – “Who does the English bitch think she is?”

At last, Tony took me to the dancefloor. The surrounding cast in my play faded into the shadows. The stage lights illuminated only us. We swayed gently to the soft music. I could feel the warmth of his breath, the stubble of his cheek against mine. My left hand slipped inside the lapel of his jacket. I could feel the steady beat of his heart though my fingertips. His right arm pulled me gently into him. I could feel his fingers tracing the boundary between satin and skin in the small of my back so intensely that it almost made me gasp. And as I nestled against him, my contours mirroring his, I could feel the presence of his hardness. Not just against my body but pressing insistently too in my mind.

And then we were back at the hotel. I staggered tipsily out of the car, and Tony caught me and guided me gently inside, into the lift, and along the corridor to my door. I reached up and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. I looked up at him through my mascaraed lashes and, my cheek brushing his, whispered into his ear “Would you like to come in?”

His arms were at my waist, steadying me as I gently swayed against the wall. He reached up and took my hands in his, down from his neck and we stood hand in hand facing each other. He leaned down and kissed me tenderly on the lips.

“Thank you for tonight. It’s been lovely. But I think you need to get to bed.”

He looked at me, concernedly. “Are you going to be all right?”

I mumbled something in reply.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I staggered into the room, collapsed on the bathroom floor and retched violently into the toilet. Again and again, until my stomach was empty. I lay there gasping, my once immaculate hair hanging down into the bowl, covered in vomit. My clutch bag had fallen next to me and, hitting the hard marble of the bathroom floor, it had burst open, its contents spilling out. There was a letter there I’d received that morning from my mum, which I’d slipped into my bag as I’d left, to read on the trip. “Dear David, I hope you are still enjoying yourself in Brazil…”

And I wept for who I used to be.

I flew out of Sao Paolo on the early flight that morning. I’d left the jewellery and dress at the hotel reception, with instructions to call Tony at 9am. I’d be back in Rio by then.

Maria was still in bed when I got back to the house. She sleepily opened one eyelid as I sat on the edge of our bed. “Morning Baby.” And then, realizing I shouldn’t have been there, sat up suddenly. “What happened? Did the meeting get cancelled? How come you’re back early?”

I sat with my elbows on my thighs, head in my hands. All the way back on the plane I’d thought about how I would face this moment. “No, the meeting wasn’t cancelled. Something happened.”

She was sat next to me now, shoulder to shoulder. I raised my head and looked her briefly in the eyes. I cleared my throat. The wine and the cigarettes had left me hoarse. “Tony asked me to go to a dinner with him last night…” I forced myself to recount to Maria the story of what had happened. Part way through my tale, she reached across and took my hand in hers. I got to the point where I’d asked him to come into my room and paused again. “I wanted him to fuck me Maria. What the hell’s the matter with me? I don’t know who I am anymore. What if he’d accepted? Jesus…”

“Oh, Sue, Sue, Sue...” She took me in her arms and rocked me gently. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go alone. It was too soon. You weren’t ready. You’re such a beautiful, confident woman it’s easy to forget…”

“Everything has happened too fast, Maria. All I ever wanted was to be your boyfriend…” I thought back to when I had stood outside her door, with my new linen suit and uncomfortable shirt. I took my hand away from hers and curled down, almost into a foetal position. Very quietly I whispered. “I want to go home.”

“No, no, please, Sue. You can’t mean that. We can work this out.” She grasped me tightly, as though she wanted us to share the same body, stretching over the top of my back as I sat, still hunched on the edge of the bed. “I love you.”

“And I love you too Maria. More than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. But I can’t do this anymore.”

We talked the rest of the morning, and all afternoon. I thought I’d cried myself out in the hotel room, but I cried more that day than I have ever done, before or since. Maria too. She’d always managed to talk me around until then. I’d always only ever wanted to do what made her happy. But sitting slumped on the floor of the hotel bathroom in Sao Paolo, retching into the toilet, reading the note from my mum, I’d made a decision that I couldn’t go back on.

The following morning I left Rio on a bus heading west, out towards Campo Grande and beyond that, the Andes. I was wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans I’d brought with me from Liverpool, hair cropped and with aviator shades covering my plucked eyebrows and bloodshot eyes. I must have looked odd – more like a skinny girl than a man. As we pulled out of the city, Randy Crawford’s voice rang out from the bus radio.

The clouds come a creepin’ and you got me a weepin’ this morning

I can’t believe you’re really gonna leave this town

Everyone knows I can’t make a move without you

You’re turning my whole world upside down

And I get a feeling that I’ve seen the last of you

Rio de Janeiro Blue

EPILOGUE

Thursday October 19th 2000

Lucy had nearly finished applying the final touches to my hair. Engrossed in the story, though, she hadn’t put brush to head for the last five minutes. I paused and in response she started.

“Fuck! That’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard.” She sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes. “So you came home?”

“Yeah. I travelled around South America for a while. Did some hiking in the Andes. Volunteered on a farm in Bolivia. Hard physical exercise felt good - it took my mind off things. Gradually, Dave started to reassert himself. I came back to Liverpool, graduated, got a job in London, met a girl, got married, started my own practice, worked too hard, got divorced and the years went by. Then a month ago, out of the blue, having never heard from her since I left Brazil, Maria emailed. She’s in London just now to receive an award for one of her buildings. I’m meeting her for lunch.”

“No way! Does she know you’re…er…I mean, that she’s meeting Sue not Dave?”

“Nope. First time I’ve worn a dress since Brazil. I’ve not even thought about it for fifteen years. Then, since Maria emailed, I’ve barely thought about anything else.”

I stood up from the salon chair and smoothed down the front of the camel coloured, cashmere roll neck sweater dress I’d chosen to wear to meet Maria. Underneath the chic exterior I’d splurged my credit card on the most expensive silk lingerie I could find. As I stood, I felt the straps of my suspenders tighten across my thighs. I smiled at Lucy. “I’d forgotten how nice it feels!”

“You still look good too, you know. Even if it is all down to my brilliant work.” She grinned.

I looked in the mirror more carefully. Lucy had indeed done a fantastic job with my make up and hair, which was in an up-do similar to how I’d worn it on that first fateful trip to Sao Paolo. There was a wrinkle or two around the eyes now, but she was right. I still made a pretty good woman.

“Thank you Lucy.” I gave her my card to pay.

“You’re very welcome. Please come back and let me know how you get on. I hope everything turns out how you want it to.” She gave me a quick hug.

I drew a pashmina over my shoulders and stepped out of the salon into the bright October morning.

The End