"I opened my eyes and as they came into focus, I saw an older version ofsomeone I knew long ago. He possesses the looks and physique of MarioLopez. I thought it was some very realistic dream. But I was awake andsomething was off. Typically that much sexiness - in dream or real life -would invoke a campsite in my underwear. It didn't. I did feel somethingelse down there, though. Do you know the feeling when your junk istwisted up and you're seated in front of a group of people and it's goingto be too obvious to adjust it? Well, it was like that, only... moist?"You have become a woman."I could feel my brow contort. The thought of my new reality wasn'texactly horrifying. No. I had thought - nay, fantasized about this sinceI was fifteen. In fact, it brought a crooked smile to my face."I guess you're okay with this then?" he inquired, almost as if he wasquestioning the question at the same time.Estuardo. Esty, for short. That's his name. We were classmates andfriends in the sixth. She was, is I mean, lovely. Dad worked on the oil rigs, all over the world; the North Sea, the Gulf, Australia, the US. Wherever there was a rig, he would be there. It meant he spent a long periods away from home leaving mum and me on our own. Looking back, I think he preferred being away. When I was eight he was working on a rig in the Gulf of Mexico and a high pressure connection failed and the hose whipped around and knocked him off the rig into the sea. They never found his body.”“My God, I’m sorry, Sam.”“Thanks, Joe, but I guess I never really knew him properly as a father. It turned out the company had cut corners on maintenance which was why the connection had failed. Mum had to fight hard for compensation, but eventually won a good package. Some of it was swallowed up in legal fees, but she got enough to buy our house and put some aside.”He poured another glass of wine for himself, and passed me the bottle to fill mine. I was getting a little lightheaded.“I was a bit of a.
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