“I’m Ben, by the way.” he says suddenly, extending out his hand. “Jean.” I reply, shaking his hand, letting it linger for a few seconds more...than was necessary. My kitten had started to take over. She knew all the tiny subconscious cues that could wrap men around her finger. “Americano for Jean, with room.” The barista’s voice calls out. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I tell him, turning around and flashing him a flirtatious smile. Live a little. The phrase echoes again in my head. He would be. When I went to bed that night, I fantasised at wearing the sort ofclothes available to women and how exciting it must be to put together awardrobe if you were a girl. I dreamed of presenting myself in stunningdresses in a wide range of diaphanous materials in different colours,fabrics, patterns, prints and shapes. These are not available to men. OnSunday morning, I dressed in my boring clothes, ate breakfast and went tomy computer and decided to select a female outfit to try. Nothing morethan. More

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