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Georgie and the Mirror. By Tanya H. There were two surprising things about the wedding. First, we were invited - my family does not bring much to any social occasion and second - Dad decided we'd go. I was amazed; Mum and Dad are not glittering socialites, to be honest they would generally be shunned as quiet and introspective by other wallflowers. I wasn't even sure if I'd met the daughter of Mum's cousin who was getting married, but, as usual, my opinions or concerns had little impact on the old thing. My name was George. I was seventeen and had never kissed a girl. At the time I believed I would never kiss a girl. Mum called me Georgie. They called me that at school too, though Georgie was always followed by Porgie and most times by pudding and pie. Mum said I'd grow out of being fat, but she and Dad were still growing into it so I wasn't holding my breath. The marriage was due to take place at an upmarket hotel somewhere down south, in the Cotswolds, and was far enough away that Dad decided we would go down the night before and have two nights away. This was something of an adventure. Usually our holidays were to similar seafront boarding houses in Skegness or Mablethorpe so I felt a little excited as Dad drove us up the long, sweeping driveway, through immaculate lawns to stop beside the ornate porticoes above the big front door. Even in the last light the place looked amazing, magical even. Beside the lawns there were stands of trees and shrubberies with winding paths and the tips of what might have been summerhouses that would need some exploring. Inside it was thick carpets, regal portraits and a wood panelled reception desk with a woman behind it. I could only see her head and shoulders, I wasn't very tall, but she had a soft, kind face and dark hair drawn back into a round bun. Her name was Hazel, according to her badge. Dad got annoyed as we checked in. The family room he had booked wasn't available. Of course, Dad being Dad he didn't actually show he was annoyed, but me and Mum knew the signs. Hazel was most apologetic, the family room was unavailable and they had upgraded us, at no extra cost, to adjoining doubles. That made me really excited - I was going to get a room of my own. "Will George be ok?" Mum asked. "Is that okay, George?" said Hazel. I didn't say anything, I wasn't used to voicing an opinion. "He'll be fine," said Dad, though grumpily. He preferred to have me where he could see me. I wanted to rush upstairs straight away, the Doctor says I should use the stairs as much as possible, but Mum worries and made me use the lift with them. Dad still wasn't sure about the extra room, he muttered about mischief and a lack of supervision, but Mum quietly reminded him that I was seventeen and very responsible so he just tutted. My room was spacious and, to my eye, very posh. There was a four poster bed, a huge wardrobe, a stern desk and tall mirror. All the furniture was dark and intricately carved and was probably very old and worth a lot of money. The window looked out over the side of the house, across more enticing gardens and a pond with a little boathouse to one side. I wanted to go and explore, but Mum said the evening air would be too chill for my chest. After Mum had unpacked Dad's stuff, she came and did mine. I could have done it myself, but she liked to fuss. I didn't have much. Some casual clothes for tomorrow morning, my suit for the wedding and more casual clothes for the day after to travel home in. My clothes were all oversized and baggy, to try and hide my fat, but that didn't work and everybody could see how bloated I was. I hung my coat over the mirror, so I couldn't see my reflection. Mum and Dad went down to the bar for one drink after that, but I said I was too tired after the long drive. I wanted to be on my own in my amazing room. I had a shower, pulled on my pyjamas and fell asleep watching the television. I don't know what woke me, maybe it was the quiet. I lay tucked into the bed and listened, but there was only silence - heavy and soft. Sometimes Dad snored, and I'd been able to hear them talking and moving around in their room, but at this moment of the night there was no noise at all from either of them. I couldn't remember turning off the TV, but it was dark and quiet too. I needed to wee, so I clicked on the bedside lamp, ambled to the en-suite and shuffled back a minute later. Before I could roll back into bed, movement caught the edge of my vision and thinking somebody was in the room with me I stopped and spun around. My heart raced, it often does, and the weight of my body pressed down on my lungs for a moment before I realised I had been spooked by my reflection in that tall mirror. My coat had fallen off and was puddled on the floor. Like I said, I didn't like to see my reflection - I hated being so fat, but I did a double-take. Not only was the person looking back at me from the mirror wonderfully slim, but she was also a girl! Now, I had a flabby chest and they said I had bigger tits than some of the girls at school, and to be honest I did, but you would never have mistaken me for a girl. Even in the dim light in a hotel room. What was looking back at me was definitely female. She had the same dark brown hair as me, though hers tumbled down her back, we shared pale skin and dark eyes, but there the similarity ended. How had a girl got in my room? I blinked and shook my head. She did the same. I looked down at myself, in case by some slip in reality I was a girl, but saw just my bloated body under my pyjamas. The girl in the mirror mimicked my every move and that looked so weird that I just stood still and stared. Which was rude, I'm sure, but she stared back! It must have been a dream, what else could it be? She was beautiful and the slender curves of her body were hardly hidden by the vest top and shorts she wore. The vest was tented by high, firm breasts and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to touch them, to cup their weight and even brush a kiss across her nipples. I took a step forward. So did she. I had to be dreaming. I was now only a couple of paces away from her perfection and I realised that she looked very much like me - she had my eyes, my nose, the same curve to her lips. Of course her face was better defined that mine, the only fat she was carrying was the kind women are supposed to have, but she looked like the sister I'd never had. I found myself reaching out, hoping that my fingertips would brush hers, but all they felt was the cool glass and calling myself an idiot I picked up my coat, hung over the impossible refection and climbed back into bed. To be awoken some time later by a light tapping on the internal door to my parents" room. "Georgie? Georgie!" my mum called. Blinking sleep and dreams from my eyes I saw the handle turn and Mum's round face peep around. "Hello, darling," she said when she saw me awake (just). We're going to breakfast, you've had a good sleep. Can you get ready?" "Hi, Mum," I started to say, but my voice felt tight in my throat so I coughed to clear it. It sounded high this morning, like I'd never gone through puberty. "Have a drink of water," she said and hurried over to offer me the glass from my bedside table. As I lifted my arm from under the covers to take it, I saw something was wrong. I stopped the movement and stared at my slim fingers, my slender arm and freckled skin. My chunky watch was gone and I was wearing a sliver analogue version with a thin, pink strap. "What's the matter, darling?" said Mum. My nails were perfectly oval, never bitten, with clear half moons. My arm was a girl's arm! I took the drink and raised it to my lips. The water was cool and lovely, but my hand trembled and when I lifted the other arm it was as feminine. "Georgie?" she said, frowning with concern and taking the empty glass from me. "I don't feel myself," I murmured and closed my eyes. Her cool hand pressed against my forehead. "You're not running a temperature, dear," she said. I had girl's arms and a girl's voice. Was I a girl? I pulled the covers away and looked down. Something dark swung into my peripheral vision, but I'd seen enough. Under a pale blue vest top were those high, firm breasts I had last seen in the mirror the night before. It seemed like my dream was not done with me yet. Then Dad called from their room, "What is she doing, Gwen? Isn't she up yet?" She! How could I be a she? But I had boobs and when I looked lower I could see the way the shorts were outlining what was missing between my legs meant I was all girl. "Daddy's hungry, darling, get yourself dressed quickly and come down with us. You can have a shower later, before we get dressed up for the wedding." Dressed! "Mum, do I look any different to you this morning?" She shook her head. "You look like you've had a good sleep, that's all. Come on, don't keep your dad waiting." "What shall I wear?" "Oh, what are you like?" she smiled and while she went to the wardrobe I swung my legs from the bed and clutched the bedding to my chest like I was afraid of either of us seeing my breasts. I could feel them though, slightly heavier and much firmer than the flab I was used to. My legs were long and slender, with fine ankles and neat toes. "Here," said Mum and laid a black skirt and a pale blue t-shirt on the bed. "Save your best dress for this afternoon." She raised her eyebrows. "Can the diva manage to find some tights and underwear on her own?" I mumbled something while staring at the skirt. I couldn't wear a skirt. Could I? I glanced at the mirror, but it held no mysteries this morning, aside from a dark haired girl who looked like a slim, female version of the fat kid I'd been yesterday. I pushed hair back from my face; it was soft and shone, caressing my shoulders like a breeze. "George," I said to the mirror in my satin voice, "You're lovely." Turning, I admired the taut shape of my bum through the shorts then picked up the skirt and held it to my waist. It was almost knee length and flared. "I'm gorgeous." Which was a word I'd ever have used or heard used about me. Of course I could wear the skirt. I was a girl and girls wore skirts. Easy. The underwear Mum had unpacked yesterday was as changed as I was. There were four pairs of plain cotton panties, in pastel shades, two white bras and some tights. One pair of tights was still in its packaging which said they were ultra-sheer and natural shaded. The picture of the front showed a woman from the waist down sitting with her legs crossed. Her legs were long and slender too, only she was wearing very high heeled sandals. The other tights were the kind of thick black ones like the ones the girls who wore skirts to school wore. They would be better for the morning and I could save the sheer ones for the wedding itself. Hearing Dad clearing his throat urged me into motion. I stripped off the vest and shorts and then froze at the my nakedness. Pink nipples and a dusting of hair between my legs held my attention. Looking at the door, like mum or dad might burst it, I parted my thighs and peeped at the soft lips where I there should have been cock and balls. I almost brushed a fingertip across those lips, to test if they were as real as everything else, but Dad shouted again and I hurried to get dressed. Panties were easy. The bra was a little more complicated, but once I had it untangled I cupped it around my breasts and fastened it first time, like I was an old hand at it. The tights were very smooth and shaded my legs beautifully before I stepped into the skirt and fastened it behind me. T shirts are T shirts, though this one was a little close fitting around my chest and there I was standing before the mirror looking at the results. Unbelievable. This was the most realistic dream I'd ever had. Where I'd kicked off my shoes the night before were now a pair of flat black ballet pumps so I slipped them on, just as Mum called my name again. I took a deep breath. "Ready." "About time!" said Dad. He humped when he saw me. "Bit too much leg for a hotel like this." "Dear!" said Mum. "She looks lovely, don't listen to him, Georgie." I stood there a moment while Dad made sure he had the room keys, and mine. Could he not see me? Could he not see what had happened to me?" Clearly breakfast was more important for he swept int the corridor leaving Mum and me to hurry along behind following his waddling gait and the smell of bacon rising up from the restaurant. I was concentrating on the new width to my hips, and the light touch of the skirt swishing around my thighs, but what most entranced me was the ease with which this body moved. It didn't feel encumbered or ponderous. I felt like I could go outside and run with my hair streaming behind me, feeling my heart beating strong and my lungs working cleanly. Aside from being female, this body was perfect. "Are you going to treat yourself to an English breakfast, Georgie?" she asked while we waited for the lift. I would have done usually, but this was not usual. Between the two of them they took up most of the space in the lift and I suddenly realised what a comical sight the three of us must have made wherever we went. "I think I'll have some toast," I said. Dad humphed again. "You'll never last the day on toast." The restaurant was quite busy and I almost stopped at the entrance. Somebody was bound to see through me. Maybe whatever magic the mirror had worked would fade leaving me as the fat boy in a too tight skirt. As though they would all turn in unison, point and laugh and I would run away in tears like I had so many times before. An elderly man near the entrance looked up from his eggs. His eyes rested on my face for a moment, then they slowly surveyed my whole body down to my feet, but lingering on my legs. I felt horribly self conscious of my skirt, like I was trapped in one of those dreams where you're naked in Tescos, but he went back to his breakfast like I wasn't there any more. Mum and Dad were already in, heading for the hotplate and I just stood there, rooted to the carpet, wondering if I could actually go through with this. "Come on, Georgie," Mum called. She had a steaming plateful already. Dad was already at the table with his. Slowly, very slowly, like I was trying to creep through a den of lions, I held my breath and went to get some toast. *** Relatives started turning up around ten. The bride arrived in a flurry of clothes bags, hat boxes and bridesmaids and I started to come around to the idea that being a pretty young woman was streets ahead of being Georgie Porgie. I did have to discreetly ask Mum if she would stop calling me Georgie, she looked a little surprised and asked what I'd prefer, as Georgina was such a mouthful. I suggested Gina and she said she would try to remember. To help her and the relatives she introduced me in something along the following terms, "You remember Gina, don't you." The first arrivals, Uncle Carl and Auntie Lena from Belfast, made me blush from under my hair, as I was doing my usual thing of looking at the floor. "Goodness, how you've grown up, what a pretty young lady," they exclaimed. I was complimented on growing up, losing weight, my hair, my clothes. Nobody asked after Fat George. By the time we'd had lunch I was smiling shyly at the compliments and beginning to come around to the idea that if being female was the price of being slim and attractive - so be it. At the appointed time I was seated in the function room between Mum and Dad waiting for the bride to appear while the groom and best man, who had brazenly stared at my boobs, shuffled nervously in front of the priest. I felt very grown up in a fitted, dark blue dress with a bold floral pattern. It was a little shorter and much narrower than the morning's skirt and I kept tugging self-consciously at the hem though I have to say my legs looked smooth and sensual in their barely visible sheer tights. My hair was down, putting it up was a mystery, and I was wearing nude coloured court shoes with kitten heels, which felt towering to my inexperienced feet. Besides some of the platformed styles sported by braver ladies around the room they were practically flat. A girl a couple of years older then me, in very high black Mary-Janes, had put her head to one side when we were introduced. She moved like a dancer in her heels, long black split skirt swirled around her legs and much of her chest was bared by a corset style top. She was a daughter of a friend of a friend, her name was Lily and after studying me for a moment she took my hand in hers and announced that she'd known me as a baby. Probably why I didn't remember her. "You've grown up just right," she added and gave me the briefest of pecks on the cheek. After the wedding and the endless photographs and speeches and toasts the disco started. George hadn't liked discos and I didn't see anything in this one to make me feel any different and I sat quietly with Mum and Dad, blushing whenever any of the boys sent bold looks my way or even found the courage to ask me to dance. I couldn't see anything appealing about dancing with any of them, even second cousin Jonny who was conventionally handsome and clearly thought a lot of himself. But while I spent plenty of time sitting at the edge letting the reception's noise flow over me what I did find was that pretty girls get much more attention than fat lads. People wanted to talk to me, men and women, and while I remained unused and uncomfortable with small talk I discovered that I didn't have to say very much and that if I just asked a couple of bland questions, nodded and smiled at the right moments, people opened up to me in a way I'd never known before. "You have a kind face," Mum said when I remarked on the phenomena. For my part I found myself increasingly forgetting I had been Georgie Porgie less that 24 hours ago, though I almost walked into the gents toilets during one absent minded visit and had to be reminded, with very hot cheeks, by a stout bloke who put his hand on the small of my back and very close to my bum as he guided me smoothly in the direction of the ladies." It wasn't that I was forgetting I had been a boy, more that I felt comfortable in this shape; in a flattering dress, sensual tights and feminine shoes. There were the occasional moments when I was surprised to see that young woman reflected in a mirror, or to look down and see my crossed knees boldly bared by my dress, but it was a little surprising how quickly I grew used to being a girl. Lily didn't seem put out by the fact that I wouldn't dance. Early on she had distanced herself from her parents and though she circulated busily she kept coming back for a quick chat and a sip of the wine which she kept on our table. I found myself watching her and I came to the opinion that she'd look better than the bride's dress for she had a kind of animal grace that wasn't in the least bit affected by her heels or the couple of lads who followed her around. When I was getting as bored as my parents Lily surprised us all by sweeping over and throwing herself into an adjacent seat. "Hot and bored," she shouted over the music. "Fancy a walk?" To be honest, I was about ready for my bed, but Mum nodded and smiled so I followed her out onto the patio and from there into the gardens. It was dark by now, but pleasantly cool after the function room, though I did pull my shawl close around my shoulders as our heels clicked along the path and away from the noise. "Discos are fine, but the DJ is playing all the old shit now to get the oldies dancing," Lily said. "I need some fresh air and some better company that the losers in there. You look so still and serene sat there with your tubby parents, Gina, I knew I had to rescue you and find out what was behind that smile of yours." If only she'd known! But I didn't know what to say to that opening, because a girl like Lily had never ever wanted to spend any time with me at all and the fact that I too was a girl didn't really get beyond that. Could she talk! Periodically she would ask me a question, did I like this band or fancy this actor, what was I studying at school, what TV did I like, wasn't I allowed to wear high heels, what did I think of her mascara, but never really gave me chance to answer. She talked and talked and led me through the paths and shrubberies, past ponds and summerhouses, until we stood along a line of dark green leylandii and she stopped. I was beginning to feel a little cold and my feet weren't used to the shoes and the underwire of my left bra cup was digging in a little. "Talk a lot, don't I?" she said softly, turning to face me. "I don't mind," I said with a little smile. Her eyes looked dark in the moonlight. "There is a way to shut me up though." "Oh? What's that?" "You could let me kiss you." She didn't give a moment to think about it. Before I could do anything I had felt the quick pressure of her lips on mine. I must have gasped a little for she put her head on one side and gave a rueful smile. "Too much, eh? You're so lovely, lovelier than I remember, it was worth a try. Better get you back inside." She started to turn, but stopped when I said. "I never kissed a girl before." "I have," she said, but the way her eyes left mine to glance at the floor made me think she hadn't. A moment dragged into two. My heart was racing. We stood like that looking at each other and I knew that she was going to turn away and the moment would be lost. "Kiss me again," I murmured. "If you like." When we parted again, a minute or two later, my cheeks were burning, my shoulders lifted with every breath and my knees were trembling. My lips felt swollen and tingled and they remembered what it had been like when her tongue had slipped between them. Her hands were on my hips and our breasts were all but touching. "Now you're wearing my lipstick," she whispered. I kissed her again, having to tilt my head to reach her, she was so tall in her heels. She kissed me back and pulled me close. Now my breasts were pressed into hers, she was bigger than me there, and I put my arms around her exploring the first swell of her back into her round bum. When that kiss was over there was something new building between my legs, a wet heat I had never experienced before and the pulse in my new labia down there that made me feel like they were growing and trying to push my legs apart. A me naked, legs spread and her hair spilling over my thighs while she kissed me where I was the hottest filled my mind for a moment and I groaned. She stared at me and even in the silvery light I could see a high colour in her cheeks and the swell of her nipples through her top. Lily must have seen where I'd just been looking for she took my right hand from her waist, lifted it to her mouth for a very gentle kiss, then placed it palm first onto her left breast and held it there. My breath caught in my throat. Her nipple was hard against my palm and around it was the delicious resilience of her breast, cupped by my very own hand. "Lily," I murmured, but didn't try to pull my hand away. I let my fingertips move slightly across her. The heat between my legs turned liquid and there was a wonderful ache building in my own breasts. I'd laid awake in my lonely room so often imagining what it would feel like to touch a woman like this and here I was with my hand cupping her so intimately. "What if somebody comes," I said, my voice felt thick. "I want to make you come," she said, kissing my ear. Her hands dropped to my bum, caressing me through my dress. She pressed her body hard to me trapping my hand to her. One of her hands wandered lower, I felt her lifting my dress, baring the back of my thigh and I tingled under her fingers. "Not here," I moaned as she kissed my neck and her wandering hand reached my pantyline. It caressed slowly around the top of my thigh and ran down my panties, closer and closer to my pussy and though Georgie Porgie whispered about clamping my thighs together and pushing her away I parted my legs slightly. I heard myself give a little cry as her fingers touched my heat, even though it was through my tights and panties. "Oh my god, Gina, you are so wet," she said into my neck. "We have to go to my room," I whimpered. "Quickly." When she tried to pull her hand from between my legs I trapped it with my thighs, she felt so good there, then I let her go and watched her kiss the fingertips that had been pressed against me. "You taste gorgeous," she announced. My chest was heaving as she stepped back. "You go first," she said. "Tell your Mum you're tired. I'll give you five minutes then come to you. Okay." "Not a minute longer, promise." She kissed me again. "Promise." I pulled my dress down and hurried back tot he wedding. Mum and Dad hadn't moved, they were talking half-heartedly to some relation. I excused myself politely, announced I was tired, yawned, and said I was going upstairs. "Are you okay, darling?" said Mum. "You look a little flushed." The male relative was staring at my boobs and must have noticed how prominent my nipples were. "Too much wine," Dad grumbled. "See you in the morning," I said, bending to give my mum a quick kiss on the cheek. Then I was on my way, as quickly as my dress and shoes would allow, feeling with each step my slick and swollen labia slipping over one another inside my soaking panties. I had never imagined that being a girl could feel so intense. As it happened there was barely time to kick off my shoes and stretch in two different directions to get to that zip down the back of my dress. I peeped through the spyhole to see Lily there. She was carrying her heels in one hand. Seconds later she had tumbled me onto the bed and pinned me with her body to kiss me long and hard. Some time later I was dimly aware of movement next door - low voices, the toilet flushing. There was a light tap on the interconnecting door I barely heard over my pounding pulse and increasingly shrill gasps. My clothes and underwear were scattered beside the bed, mingled with Lily's and her skin was on mine, her legs and arms wrapped me while we kissed like here was never going to be kissing again. My breasts ached and burnt from her caresses, from the touch of her fingertips around my stiff nipples and between my spread legs I felt as if my body were melting and running down my thighs. I ached to be touched there, as if her fingers could make the heat fade, but she had teased me around my inner thighs, stroked my curls and all around my pouting labia without doing anything but stoke the fires. "Gina?" Mum whispered. "Are you asleep?" Lily silenced me with another kiss. I moaned around her tongue as a fingertip pressed insistently against my pussy, where instinct told me my new body opened up. "Gina, darling?" At that instant Lily's finger edged confidently into me and I bit down a gasp that welled up from somewhere deep. She started fingering me with a smooth, slow rhythm that made me feel like the bed was going to wrap me while I sank down deep into it. Amidst the heat I imagined Mum at the door, listening. She liked to check me as I slept, to hear me breathe, but I couldn't remember if I had locked that interconnecting door. Was she about to find me in the embrace of another girl. I should have closed my legs around Lily's hand, so she'd have pulled her finger from pussy, I should have pushed her aside - hidden her, but something was happening to me. It was bigger than anything I'd felt before, it was coming from deep and at the moment I don't think I'd have tried to stop Lily even if Mum had been standing there watching. I went rigid. I squeezed her finger, felt my fingers digging into her firm bum and closed my eyes as the most amazing, intense thing ever burst in me. "Goodnight, Georgie," said Mum and I let out all of my breath, desperate for oxygen as my belly heaved and tears ran down my face to wet the pillow. "Did you love that?" Lily said, muffling her voice with my neck. She was trying not to giggle. I sighed as she slipped her finger from me and watched as she licked the glistening juice from it. "Don't get too comfortable," I said pushing her onto her back so her naked beauty was bared to my eyes. "Now I'm going to do that to you." I woke, with the first light of morning just showing around the edges of the curtains, to a panicked sense of dislocation - as though I was waking up from some wonderful dream into dull reality. There was warmth and weight alongside me, soft breathing and a spill of hair across my pillow that tickled my cheek. My hand was cupped around a wonderfully resilient breast. I was laid on my front and I knew what it felt like to have fat between my ribs and the bed. Whatever magic had made me slim and beautiful and female in the night had run its course and I was Georgie Porgie again. While my heart raced and my bladder ached I was terrified of Lily waking and finding her lover had swelled and grown male while she slept. The I calmed. I woke a little more and without moving my left hand from its sweet embrace of Lily's breast I explored with my right and found the curve of a hip with a feminine spread of fat across it, not the muffin tops of an overweight boy. My legs were slightly parted and without moving too much I edged my right hand under my belly and a little further down. There were my soft curls, the shape of my pubic bone and beneath it the place where I was unmistakably woman I almost sobbed with joy. I was still a girl. Still a girl? I shouldn't be happy about that, I should be filed with cold dread about living a life I knew nothing about in a body that was my own. There were mysteries to being female and I had only scratched the surface in my single day. And what if the magic did run out? Closing my eyes, I imagined a world where I was Fat George again. It stretched out in front of me - bland and lonely and... Awful. Did I really want to go back to that? Next to me Lily stirred, I felt her stretch out and take a long breath. I almost pulled my hand away from her breast, but as soon as she became aware of it there she moved her hand to mine and held me close. "Gina," she said and smiled. I kissed the tip of her nose. "Hello Beautiful." "You're beautiful," I said and my cheeks were warm from the compliment. She rolled towards me, put her arms around me and held me close, nuzzled my neck. Running my fingers up and down her back I felt a flush of excitement from being naked in bed with a lovely girl. When would this have ever happened to George? It was nearly six in the morning. We can't have been asleep for more than a few hours and as she moved against me I could smell the musky, sexy smell of our bodies. I fancied I could still taste her. My nipples crinkled delightfully. I wanted her again. "What time do they get up?" Lily said. I pushed my pubis against hers, touched my fingers to the top of her firm bum. "I don't suppose you want them to catch us in bed together," she whispered. "I don't want to be apart from you." So, doing our best to be quiet and stifling the occasional giggle, we slipped from the bed and dressed. She in her outfit of the night before and the panties I had been wearing while I drew hers over my legs. They were black and see through, with a lace trim - very sexy. I'd never worn anything like them before. If Mum saw them in the wash she'd ask questions I couldn't answer, so I was going to keep them safe and hidden somewhere. I wore my flared skirt and top of the day before, with black opaque tights and my wedding shoes. Lily let me try on her heels, but her feet were bigger than mine. Then we stole from the room, hand in hand, and went downstairs for an early breakfast. The first person I saw was Hazel, the receptionist. She was there arranging the Sunday papers on a stand beside her desk. She wore a smart, uniform skirt and blouse and her hair was in a neat plait, so feminine looking I wondered if I could learn to do mine like that. Lily excused herself to the loo and Hazel smiled at me. "God morning, Gina. Did you enjoy the night?" Her tone was light and sociable, a practised hotel worker making small- talk with a guest she knew had been at a wedding reception the night before, but there was something in the set of her face and the way she cocked her head that made me think she knew all about me and Lily. Maybe we shouldn't have come down holding hands, but it had felt so right. "Yes thank you," I said, eyes downcast. "Do you like having your own room?" I looked up. Was she teasing me? There was a friendly smile on her lips. "It makes me feel grown up." "You look like you've grown up since you arrived." She looked me up and down and nodded, like she approved. "It suits you." I stood there for a moment, just looking at her and trying to see between her words. I checked over my shoulder, but Lily was still in the loo. "You know, don't you?" I said slowly. Her smile broadened. "About George? He never existed. There has only ever been Georgina." Before I could say anything I heard heels clicking on a tiled floor and Lily was walking up to me again, taking my hand and smiling like we had been apart for months. "For how long?" I asked. Lily gave me a proper quizzical look at that. "Enjoy the rest of your life, Gina. They've just got the coffee on in the dining room, girls, if you need a wake up. "What was that all about?" Lily whispered as we went for a drink. I grabbed her hand and pulled it around my waist so our hips touched. "Haven't a clue," I said, which was partially true. By the time Mum and Dad puffed down for their breakfast feast, Lily had gone up to her room to make it look like somebody had spent the night in her bed. I was content with a cup of tea and a croissant, reading a newspaper. "You could have let us know you were coming down," said Dad, frowning at my skirt and shoes again. Mum steered him towards the bacon and sausage, then doubled back to sit beside me and lean in. "You had somebody in your room last night," she whispered. Warmth rose in my cheeks and I glanced at Dad. "I haven't talked about it with him," she said. I didn't know what to say, so I looked at my knees. "Gina, I just want to know that you were careful," she said and touched the back of my hand. When I looked up she was smiling, shyly and their was something in her expression I'd never seen before - friendship, acceptance even. Were Mum and I going to be friends now she had a daughter? "It's okay, Mum. It was a girl." Her hand fluttered to her mouth. "You kissed a girl!" "I've aways wanted to." She was quiet a minute, her eyes never left me, as though she were trying to decode what to do or what to say. She glanced at Dad as well, busy heaping stuff on his plate. "Do what makes you happy," she said. Which was good advice and pretty much how I lived and ten years later, on a bright spring afternoon ten years later, I found myself walking through into that hotel. It looked just as I remembered, I had changed the most, and Hazel was where I had seen her last, still behind the desk, though there was a little grey swept back into her pony tail now. A flared sun dress swirled long around my legs and low across my chest, my hair was short, beaded earrings almost brushed my shoulders and I felt happy enough to have lifted the world with me. She looked at me, then the man on my arm, and I was pleased to see her still there. While I didn't understand much of what had happened between her, the mirror and me, I knew she was responsible for my happiness and for the life I'd been given the chance to live. "Gina!" she said rising from behind the desk, she stepped from its protection and there I was in the hotel having a hug from a woman I hadn't seen for an age. She held me at arms length. "You're looking well. Holiday somewhere hot?" I was a gorgeous caramel colour, almost everywhere. "Honeymoon," I said. We flew in this morning and stopped off here for a night on our way home. This is Dave. Dave, Hazel. Hazel, Dave." They shook hands and she nodded approval again. Then she grinned. "Congratulations both of you," she said. "No wonder I didn't recognise the name on the booking, Mr and Mrs Donnington." "Well, if you want to be precise, it's Mr and Captain Donnington," I said. "I was set free when I came here last, I'm a pilot in the Army. I fly helicopters." Hazel smiled at me. She nodded again. "I don't think I saw that coming," she said. "But you seem to have worked out most satisfactorily."