Optimistically, it’s a mere ten minute walk to the Robson’s but realistically, it’s a good fifteen minutes. Walking cautiously through the thin layer of snow in his high heeled boots would likely add another few minutes. His hooded cape felt warm and cosy and his thick velvet frock did its job in holding off the cold, but landing mid thigh, he only had his knitted tights to protect him from there down to his ankles. By the end of the road he’d acclimatised somewhat and it being Christmas day, the streets were practically deserted. His nerves ebbed a little but not a lot.

Meanwhile at the Robson household, Mark’s school friend Jacob is becoming increasingly nervous. “Charlotte and Mark should be here any minute.” Jacob’s mother told him. “…so can you get this wrapping paper tidied up?” she said before checking on her husband who was busy preparing their festive feast. “Alfie, will you tidy up your toys.” she instructed. “And you can set up your laptop later Claire.”

Jacob stuffed the tattered and torn shreds of wrapping paper into a bag and helped his little brother tidy his toys. He’d long since stowed most of his own gifts in his bedroom so didn’t have those to worry about.

Mark and his mother strolled across the park. “It does look lovely in the snow.” she commented, before pointing out some children in the distance sledging down a modest slope. “Have you warmed up a bit now?” she asked.

“Yeah a bit.” Mark said. “Still nervous though. Jacob’s never seen me wearing a dress and make-up before.”

“He’s seen the wedding photos.” his mother reminded him.

“In real life I mean.” Mark gulped, recalling how Jacob teased him for wearing a skirt, blouse and heeled sandals at the summer wedding.

They crunched their way through the shallow snow and eventually exited the park, crossed the road and turned onto the street on which his school friend lives. A hoard of butterflies erupted in Mark’s tummy they neared the Robson’s house. The grand entrance to their home features a glazed front door flanked with leaded windows on either side, through which their hallway can be seen. “Doesn’t it look lovely.” his mother said, complimenting the Christmas decoration in their large hallway.

“That’ll be Charlotte and Mark.” Jacob’s mother said as the doorbell rang. “Will you let them in Jacob.” she told her son.

“Oh not me Mum!” Jacob whined. “Can’t Claire do it?”

“Claire’s upstairs.” his mother said, and straighten your socks, they’ve gone wonky.” she told him. Mark huffed and puffed as he straightened his socks. “Why don’t you let them in?” he whined.

“Because I’m telling you to let them in.” his mother snapped. Jacob swallowed his pride and tried to suppress his nerves as he reluctantly entered the hallway. He could see Mark and his mother Charlotte through the glazed front door and Mark could see Jacob too. Mark’s jaw dropped as his friend opened the door, Jacob’s cheeks looked as crimson as his dress!

“Jacob you look lovely!” Marks mother smiled as she stepped inside. “Mark’s wearing a dress too.” she proudly stated as her son wiped his feet on the doormat before stepping inside.

“Yours looks better than mine.” Jacob frowned.

“You both look delightful.” Mark’s mother insisted as Jacob’s mother entered the hallway to greet her guests. “Merry Christmas Lydia.”

“Merry Christmas Charlotte!” Lydia replied, giving her friend a hug. She greeted Mark and complimented his dress. Bashfully, Mark thanked her as he removed his hood. “You hair looks nice.” she commented.

“Mum did it.” Mark bashfully told her, glancing nervously at his friend. Jacob’s mousey blond hair is in short lose curls and decorated with a white headband sporting a red bow. His dress, unlike Mark’s relatively sedate frock is very fancy and very infantile; pillar box red with a white bib, trimmed with lace and a fancy collar with a pussy bow and short puffed sleeves. Its skirt is shorter than Mark’s with a layers of white lace protruding another inch or two. His pale legs are hairless and clad in a pair of knitted knee socks with frilly lace around the tops, and on his feet, a pair of shiny red Mary Jane’s with a modest kitten heel.

“Shall we take our shoes off?” Charlotte asked.

“Oh no… we’re fully laminated on the ground floor.” Lydia replied as Mark unbuttoned his cape. “That looks nice as warm.” she commented as he removed it, before complimenting his tights and footwear.

“Thanks.” Mark shyly replied.

“Your make-up looks lovely too.” Lydia said. “Jacob refused to wear his.” she sneered. “Come through.”