The door abruptly opened. “Having a nice chitty-chat boys?!” the concierge said as she shut the door behind her. Gavin instantly apologised. Luke’s apology came a couple of seconds later. “Stand.” she said. “Nails.” she said. “Good.” she said. “Sit.” she said. Luke sat, dragging his tiny tunic over what little of his lap it could cover (which isn’t much). “If you get bored whilst waiting, comb your hair, check your nails, tidy your lipstick, powder your nose, maybe even check your tunic for specks of dust, bits of fluff or the occasional stray hair.” she listed. “We don’t want to see you chatting. We need you to be immaculate and if we want to see you doing anything whilst you’re waiting, we want to see you making sure that you’re nothing less than immaculate.” she stated.

Luke gulped. “Yes.” he peeped. She left. He glanced at Paul then turned his head to Gavin. both were removing their vanity mirrors. Paul tended his hair. Gavin checked his lipstick. Paul began brushing his tunic with his fingers, using the mirror to check around his neckline and shoulders. Luke began brushing his tunic too. He opened his mirror and used it as Paul had. He never expected a job as a hotel porter to be in any way appealing or engaging. He knew it was just carting bags about. But just carting bags about is one thing… doing it wearing nothing but a tiny tunic that leaves him feeling half naked, trotting about in unfamiliar heels and wearing a bright vibrant lipstick with a pasty foundation which might hopefully hide his blushes…. well it’s a different thing altogether.

James returned, breathing deeply. He checked his reflection in the big mirror; straightening his hair and brushing his tunic before sitting. “Cheeky bitch grabbed my arse then slapped my thigh really hard!” he grumbled.

“Does that happen a lot?” Luke asked. James replied with a single tut, before turning away and grumbling to himself. Luke pulled the comb from his make-up bag and began pulling it through his hair. He’d had it cut especially a couple of days previously. Short back and sides, the fringe cut broad and straight, just above the eyebrows from ear to ear where a shallow wedge fades into a shorn nape.

Luke sighs as he faffs with his hair. Its style feels completely at odds with the rest of him. Shyly, he glances at the others as he puts the comb away. Gavin sits with his legs crossed. One shoe hangs loosely from his toes. Luke peers over his hairless knees and looks at his own shoes. He cocks a foot to one side to get a better look at the heel on which his feet are perched. It’s got to be four inches, he reckons. Maybe a bit less, he muses. At least they’re not those really narrow heels, he figures as he tries to get his head around that fact that he’s been put in high heeled shoes. The nearest he’s worn to these were some smart Jimmy James sandals (the boys’ version of the old fashioned Mary Jane style) when he was a kid. They only had an inch high heel and he only wore those on special occasions such as a wedding or anniversary.

Luke recalled the awkward walk from the changing rooms, down the long corridor to the foyer and reception desk. Instinct told him to compensate for the heel by keeping his knees a little bent. “Straighten your legs!” the concierge barked. “You’re not a mannequin, walk normally!” she blasted. “Relax the hip, loosen the knee and tighten the ankle.” she advised. He didn’t know where to start. Relax the hip? Loosen the knee? What does that even mean? “That’s better.” she announced. “Always presume you’re being followed. We want to see confident strides and a nice straight leg on the back step.” she said. Again her instructions baffled him, but he did his best. “Good.” she said. “I’m yet to see a boy who hasn’t taken to heels within the hour.” she claimed.

As Luke sits in the waiting room, glaring at his vertiginous heels and wondering if there’s anything appealing about a pair of suede loafers with their distinctive toe and broad tiny tongue, in the same garish colour as his tunic, nails and lipstick… he sighed the deepest of sighs. How much time will he have to spend stuck in the waiting room with nothing to do but check his lipstick and comb his hair?