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I can see you have learnt to walk in heels as well. I bet that didn’t come from the internet.’ ‘No, that was sheer torture.’ She grinned broadly, ‘We girls have to suffer sometimes to look good.’ We both giggled at that. Sandy opened the champagne, and I put an apron over my dress to serve the pasta. We sat and ate and drank and talked. Sandy made me tell the story of how I began to dress and why did I do it and how did it make me feel. I began to relax and soon I had forgotten I was wearing a dress and it seemed so natural to be talking to Sandy in this way. We laughed at some of more stories of learning to dress and some of the frightful messes I had made with makeup and learning to walk in heels. We had opened a second bottle of wine and I think we were both a bit d***k when Sandy suggested we take our glasses through to the lounge. She sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. I sat down as ladylike as I could and gratefully kicked off my heels and rubbed my feet. Sandy.

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