My mouth and eyes were dry, sunlight through my parents window caused me to stir. I rubbed my eyes a little, after opening them I realised what a mistake that was. I had been wearing mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow last night and hadn't removed it prior to sleep. The black smudged transfer on my hands led me to expect the same on my face.

Dr. Elias Mercer’s office smelled like lavender and antiseptic, a combination that somehow made the framed diagrams of mammary glands on the wall feel less intimidating. The silver-haired endocrinologist leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied James and Jennifer with warm, crinkled eyes.

“Let me start by saying,” Dr. Mercer began, “in fifteen years of helping transgender women lactate, I’ve never had a cisgender man walk into my office with this level of commitment. It’s… refreshing.”

The scent was strong, acrid, maybe even a little sweet but unmistakably chemical, it was difficult to pin down any of the separate notes of the scent.

“Keep your fingers straight.” she instructed.

“Uh, sorry…” is all I managed, having suddenly been pulled out of my amateur scent analysis of the nail polish fumes.

“I know you've done this before, surely you know to keep your fingers straight, is something bothering you Jacob?” Laura enquired.

There were only three boys in the locker room at the ballet studio. We used to be best friends all through middle school. Then we started to drift apart in high school. I know why I pulled back, and I regretted it, but I had no idea why my best friends had not only drifted away from me but also from each other. We had been such a close-knit group. Standing together against the world. Three “girly” boys.

As soon as I said that I realized how stupid I was. For one thing you don’t say that if you are the only boy in a locker room filled with cheerleaders. And that was not even the most stupid part of it.

Jason stole a glance at the ornate clock perched on the nightstand, its hands ticking steadily away the moments. Vanessa would be gone for at least three hours—ample time to indulge in what he had been yearning for. The house enveloped him in a tranquil hush, the silence wrapping around him like a luxurious cocoon. His heart raced with a blend of excitement and nervousness as he stepped softly across the plush carpet, making his way toward the sanctuary of their bedroom closet.

Author's note: I forgot to publish chapter 7. I apologize and will publish it as so as I finish editing it.

“There’s a man out there, right now,” Braddock said softly, pointing generally in the direction of outside. “A man who’s responsible for her being in your hospital today. Out there, on the run. We need her help to find him, before he hurts someone else.”

“Ooh, how about these?” Sarah asked as she picked up a box of expensive-looking chocolate covered shortbread biscuits. “You did say that one of the new Angels is Scottish, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but she’s not moved to London yet,” Nikki replied, before giggling, taking the box from her wife and placing it in the already-bulging trolley. “Both Alice AND Charlotte love these though, hehe!”

“And being models, they’ll probably only be allowed to eat a maximum of two each,” Sarah teased.

“I used to wonder, you know? What I would say, if I ever saw her again. And I’d dream that she’d come back, and there’d be some explanation that would make sense of it all. Make it all right.”

Being Samantha Masters

an homage-sequel to Being Christina Chase