I’d taken great care with my appearance. No stubble, no cleavage, clothing loose and comfortable but not baggy. No pastel shades. Sensible shoes. My hair, short and dark, was going through a wavy phase, but I’d not let it get so long as to let it curl.

Before I left the house, I checked myself out in the full-length mirror in the hallway, by the stairs. Definitely sexy, definitely enticing and even I couldn’t tell if the face looking back at me was a boy or a girl.

Smiling, I stepped out into the cool Manchester evening.

*

The city throbbed outside, but I wasn’t interested in that. I was interested in her. She glided towards me from the bar, cocktail in hand, elegant sky-blue summer dress flowing down her body, showing off every inch of her perfect legs. Hair, darker and longer than mine, framed the startling beauty of her face.

“I’m H,” I said, as she sat down opposite me.

“Pauline,” she said. She shook her head, “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Oh yes.” The night was just beginning.