Tom looked very pleased with himself as he walked into the bar and joined his three friends. He had known his fellow concubivore, Jake, for the past four centuries, maybe longer, and Carole, another of their species, certainly since the late nineteenth century. The larger woman dressed in denims, Della, was a more recent acquaintance but one who was certainly now firmly in their group. She was different from the other three in that she was a demoness from Nemarash. However, like the concubivores, she also enjoyed watching humans in all their diversity and occasionally playing with some of them, usually to achieve some sexually interesting outcome.

Unlike the three concubivores, for whom sex provided the energies that they needed to survive, for Della, and Tom had no idea what a demoness needed to live on, it was all about pleasure. Della was a devout lesbian and believed that females of whatever species would get most from loving another female. She always took the opportunity to promote this view especially among the humans. Her powers to shape shift, to manipulate people's minds and to cross dimensions was in a different league to that of the concubivores. However, unlike many of her kind, she was unwilling to intervene in a heavy-handed way and it seemed to Tom that she had fallen in with them because she enjoyed the more cunning manipulations that the three concubivores used, often taking months to craft a rare individual into someone from whom they could derive the most delicious energies out of the best sex around. Concubivores did have limited glamour powers that enabled them to make people see them and feel about them in a positive way, but Tom had been speculating what different methods they could use if they could convince Della to play along. Then again, he needed heterosexual women and, maybe, Della would be unhappy at providing him and Jake with one.

"Tom, you're looking well." Della said as he sat down. "I guess that is six months of the finest quality concubivore interaction." She added lightly.

"Certainly, but I'm sated now; I can't take much more. I've warned Monique that I'll have to go abroad for work. She'll find herself losing interest in me soon anyway; I never like to make it hard on them."

"Yes, but she's in such a different place to this time last year. I can guarantee she'll have a much better sex life, a much better life all round, because you intervened." Della commended.

"Yes, I'm sure, you know us, we feed on people but there's no need to be a parasite."

"Well said. You know me, I'm looking out for the rights of females no matter what species they are."

"Even if they're straight?"

"They're all sisters to me." Della smiled. "And that brings us to the discussion we were having before you arrived. Your friend Jake here was on for a wager. He was challenging the female team members here," Della nodded to Carole, "that we could not pull off as successful a transformation as you did with Monique, certainly sticking within the boundaries that you do. Of course I could charge in there and I could make any woman here my red-skinned demon sex-slave for eternity, but that's why I am hanging out with you guys rather than any other demons who might be on the plane at the moment. I like your subtlety, I like the twists and turns of the hunt and I like seeing some female come out of it with a good deal for herself."

"Right, it sounds good. So what are the bets?" Tom asked, clearly interested to happy to be part of this game.

"Well, we've come down to what seems like a fair deal. If we win Carole and Della work to provide two more women, one for each of us, as delicious as Monique, within eight months." Jake explained, smiling. "If they win, then we provide Carole with two humans of similar quality either male or female as we can find them."

"So you're happy with a woman?"

"Oh yes, Della's opened my eyes, and a few other parts of me, to a some things." Carole grinned broadly. "Maybe I was denying myself by just sticking to suave men."

"Well, it seems we have the easier end of the bet if we lose, so I'm not complaining. What about you Della, what do you get?" Tom asked.

"For me, Tom, a lot of the satisfaction will be in the game, and the woman will end a contented lesbian or I'll admit failure right out myself and I'll manufacture you a whole string of charms and mirrors and all sorts of tricks to aid your hunts."

"So, does she start a lesbian and you simply turn the woman on to Carole?"

"Well, you and I select the candidate." Jake outlined. "The only rule being that she must be able to produce top quality sex, so the usual avoidance of professionals or those who just do not have it. Obviously it is in our interests to pick the hardest candidate we can for them to change. She has to be over the age of consent and below forty-five. For us, I guess we need someone like Monique was when she was Monica: straight but na�ve and rather isolated."

Della continued. "And knowing that that is the kind of woman you would go for, it's going to delight me to make her into a lesbian goddess. If she's not getting any at present, then there's no violation of your fair play rule, no boyfriends or husbands to disappoint or anger."

"But she still has to come out to her family and friends with the new sexuality you're giving her." Tom noted.

"And most lesbians don't have to face that challenge?" Della questioned.

"Okay, I get your point."

"You two have a fortnight in which to find the suitable candidate and then the game begins; and may the best gender win!" Della laughed, raising her glass to clash with the others.

Steph Clarke had lost track of how long she had worked for Morcar Publishing. It had to be somewhere over twenty-five years. No-one had bothered to present her with anything for her long service, but she was grateful for this job and for the fact that she had never felt her post was at risk. She wondered why she thought of that now. Maybe it was seeing that young woman, Jane, bustling in this morning. Steph knew she had been like that once, seeing publishing as something exciting: sitting alongside authors; getting on in the Media. It was also a profession that has used her intelligence and had offered a bit of glamour. Morcar had survived all the mergers and takeovers, probably because of the diversity of its output and the fact that it ran very lean; its prosperity generally came from how hard its employees worked.

This publishing house had been good for Steph and fitted with the lifestyle she had adopted after that attack, now more than two decades back. She supposed she should have healed from it by this stage and she guessed, that to some extent, she had. However, the passing of years had weakened her in so many other ways. Her day-to-

day routine was such a shield and yet it had thickened to the extent that it closed off other pathways to her. Of course she had her cat, Marlene, as in Dietrich, and her knitting and the knitting circle and the bridge club. She had acquaintances rather than friends and certainly no-one closer, and, certainly, no lovers. That had been the problem, of course, Steph had always loved women, though she made sure she never allowed any sign of that to be visible and there were even a few decoys. She made sure she kept a few movie magazines around her, open at the page showing the latest male movie heartthrob. For a while she had jumped between Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt, all the time actually preferring whichever woman they were pictured with, but that was a secret she kept hidden from everyone, and quite often herself.

The one who had driven her to lock everything, every loving feeling, away had been Sarah-Ann Faulkner. Of course these days she could never conjure up just how besotted she had been with her; everything she had experienced subsequently had killed that feeling. Sarah-Ann had been a cyclist, just like Steph, and the memory of her in lycra still did bring a warmth back to Steph no matter how many years had passed, but it was her in an abstract way, just as an ideal of a sexy woman. How much Steph wished she had fallen for someone else; had taken a chance with anyone else, with a woman who, at worst, would have scowled and stamped away embarrassed or even spat at her, Steph could have dealt with all of that.

Being ambushed on her way home and kicked and punched, and kicked and rolled over, and her head stamped on: now, picking a woman like that had been a painful mistake. Sarah-Ann was more than charismatic enough to recruit helpers, women who were more than eager to be 'dyke bashers' and, so, through their violence assert how wrong Steph had been to even consider that Sarah-Ann might find her attractive; well, then, let the men keep them. Of course, the police laughed at her. They had enough trouble comprehending male-on-female rape, especially back then, let alone female-on-female violence with an overtone of a sexual orientation to the attack. When she had admitted she was gay, well, that was the end of any help she could have expected. The jibes and the jokes, that had followed, had been more than she could cope with. All her dreams of finding a woman to build a life with together, here in London, where, supposedly, there were more lesbians than anywhere else in the UK, had been smashed out of her. Now, she was not gay, she was just an asexual middle-aged woman, no different to the thousands of straight women worn down by time, work and indifference.

As Steph looked over at Jane she felt a little glow of pride. She believed things had changed a great deal in the years since her bitter encounter and, whatever Jane's sexuality, Steph hoped she could safely find happiness and a good shag here in London. In this office of obnoxious men on first seeing Jane, Steph had been determined to ensure that she would do whatever she could to help this lovely young lady; keeping it discreet of course, so that neither those male bastards nor Jane herself would get the 'wrong' idea about Steph or how she felt about things. She had not achieved a great deal so far, but remained heartened as each day she saw that Jane was not being worn down by life.

"There she is." Jake nodded in the direction of the young woman entering the caf�.

Carole looked round subtly, Della more boldly.

"How old is she? She looks like she's approaching forty."

"Twenty-four. Her name is Jane Portland. She has worked for Morcar Publishing in Bloomsbury for the past eleven months. She graduated from university, where she read English Literature, almost three years ago, and was doing odd jobs on local newspapers before getting this. She lives in Kilburn, alone in a flat. She has not had any sexual partners since leaving university. She slept with three men while there but none of them on more than five occasions. She works long hours at the publishing house and seems to have no social activity except sitting in some caf�, preferably in or near a park, on a Sunday afternoon, hence her being here today, oh, and of course, re-

reading classic English literature. I suggest she expects romance to happen to her, but is too self-conscious and too much in a pattern of drudgery to do anything to engineer that. She is not badly off given the expense of living in London and saves furiously for fear of losing her job. She would be a challenge even for me or Tom, and, like Monique, we would have to begin by altering her thinking about things in a major way first."

"Thanks for the background. She certainly seems to fit the specification." Carole said, not uncharitably, but with an air of seeing a real challenge.

This Jane, now with her coffee and pain-au-chocolat, was coming to the table a couple away from the quartet. She did look older than her true age. She wore a brown wool coat over a maroon sweater and a long charcoal grey skirt which stopped at mid-calf. A large university scarf finished off her warm clothing. Her hair was well tended despite the damp, cut precisely a few inches above her shoulder so that it resembled a helmet. The only feature which lifted the dullness about her, was the rich shade of her hair. It was the darker side of blonde as it approached auburn that some women would have sought out as a dye colour. Her only jewellery was a flat gold signet ring on her right hand and two plain gold studs, one in each ear.

"You might not want it," Jake began, "but my assessment is that to her employer she looks the epitome of a woman who will be working for the company until retirement. She will take even excessive orders without complaint; will rarely be ill and will only take the occasional holiday. From what I can tell from her memories, the men who slept with her as a student saw something similar: a serious young woman who, though they would not admit it, strangely reassured them due to her almost middle-

aged demeanour. She was not going to threaten them or challenge them or demand anything more than they were willing to give and they could even expect her to be grateful to them for paying her attention. That made them feel worthy, big men."

As the four of them watched, Jane's nose was soon in the dog-eared copy of 'Mansfield Park' and she certainly seemed to be paying no attention the two women and two men seated close by.

"Well, we will leave you to it." Jake said, finishing his coffee.

"The best of luck." Tom added with a mischievous smile.

Della retorted. "I don't think we need luck, this is going to be a case of skill in action."

Once the two male concubivores had gone Carole turned to her comrade. "Well, how are we going to start this? We need a way into changing her mind."

Della sat silently for a moment as if receiving a message directly into her head. "She wants a gift for a friend of hers. There's a jewellery stall up the road from here, the owner's getting chilly. I'll pop out and take her place for a while, she should be in here for ten minutes at least. Give this Jane sufficient desire to drink up and head out and then guide her my way."

"What's the idea, something with jewellery?"

Della nodded. She held her fingers in an 'o' and the air rippled between them until a silver ring sat there. "Something I've used before. It'll get her seeing herself very differently, as a real hot lesbian. Not only that, but it will affect all but the strongest willed around her too, particularly those who might have an interest in seeing her as a lesbian."

"Other lesbians."

"Precisely, and the more she sees it, the more others will too and then she'll start believing it's really her."

"Sounds a good place to begin. We've got to start somewhere and if she begins to experience shifting perceptions then that is always a situation us concubivores are good at offering assistance with."

"Excellent, that's decided."

"We should give it a few days to get into motion before we need to meet to discuss the next step. We'll take turns to check her out somewhere she goes regularly…"

Della hesitated for a moment. "Yes, there's a place closer to her flat that she stops in most mornings before work."

"Right, we'll use that as our checkpoint. You check in tomorrow to see if the ring has taken and I can pick up the next day. We'll leave her to her own devices on the weekends for now, I don't want to have to be chasing her all over London even with your powers to help us."

"Yes, we don't want to rush this. Right, well, this is where it starts." Della planted a kiss on Carole's lips and sprung up; in moments she was out the door.

Carole gave a shudder that made her smile and seemed to show that she was enjoying the frisson of the game being afoot.

"Can I borrow the sugar?"

Jane heard a woman's voice close to her and caught the sight of just some brown hair from the corner of her eye. She was loath to look away from her book. Whilst she could read on the underground, there was no guarantee on any given day that she would get a seat and she hated having to balance her bag and book, it was useless.

"Sure. Take it."

The woman reached past Jane, brushing her arm as she did. Jane felt suddenly a little disorientated. She put her bookmark in her place and looked around the room. She thought she had slept well but maybe she was coming down with something. It felt rather warm in here, perhaps she needed to get outside and get some fresh air. She had passed some stalls a little further up the street. She always liked searching the second-hand book ones and now she remembered, if she was going to invite Rachel for a visit, she had thought about buying her a present. Hadn't there been a jewellery stall with ceramic and glass stuff of the kind Rachel had liked since their student days?

Jane hurriedly finished her drink and bun and shoved her book into her bag before heading from the caf�. She wandered the row of stalls glancing idly at them until she reached the jewellery one. It was staffed by a large, dark-haired woman dressed in a long denim coat and what looked like dungarees, pretty dated, but Jane guessed they were useful for holding her change.

"Anything you like?" The woman asked.

"Erm, I'm looking for something for a friend, she loves ceramic and glass jewellery." Jane said, though strangely she felt more that she was asserting that than really knowing it to be the truth.

"What about this piece?"

The stallholder held out an amber coloured glass ball captured in spirals of slender silver and hanging from a leather thong. As the stallholder held it, the light seemed to glint off warmly from the glass in all directions. There was something about it that felt like security, which Jane hoped was similar to what she felt about Rachel.

"Yes, that's excellent."

"I'll wrap it. To you, fifteen pounds."

The price seemed reasonable and Jane paid without thinking.

"How about something for yourself. Do you like rings? We have some wonderful silver rings."

Jane only ever wore the signet ring her parents had given her when she turned eighteen, but there was something about the silver rings here that attracted her attention. A plain band somehow drew her to it.

"You like this one. Here, try it on." The stallholder removed it from the velvet-lined tray.

Jane took the ring and tried it on her index finger of her left hand. It was too large.

"That's a shame. It's too big."

"Ah that's because it's a thumb ring, see." The stallholder took Jane's hand firmly but gently and in an instant had shifted it to her thumb. "There, perfect."

Jane suddenly felt the disorientation she had suffered in the caf�. She blinked and found that she was away from the stalls, heading in the direction of home. What had happened? She felt a little queasy. Had she blacked out? She reached into her bag and found the wrapped necklace as she had remembered. Reassured that she had not lost it, she guessed it was probably best to head home, she clearly needed to rest. She bought some chocolate from the shop on the corner and hurried up to her bedroom and dug out her favourite DVD version of 'Emma' and sat back indulging in the things that made her feel secure. The disorientation did not return and Jane found no further symptoms of the onset of illness. She guessed it had been the heat of the caf� and then the change to being outside that had caused it.

As she grabbed for the remote control to start watching 'Howard's End' she caught sight of the silver ring on her thumb. Had she bought that? Surely she had not stolen it. She had hardly made a quick getaway from the stall and the owner presumably would have come after her if she had. Going to her bag she found another couple of banknotes had gone. Jane was rather irritated that, in a moment of disorientation, she had gone and bought a piece of jewellery for which she had little use. She knew many women these days wore rings on their thumbs, but it was hardly her style. She tried to remove it but it would not budge. She guessed that her thumb had swollen a little. It was not uncomfortable and soon Jane gave up on trying to remove it and instead concentrated on the DVD.

Jane overslept and the next morning was in a rush to get to work, running the brush through her hair as she hurried down the street to the underground station. At work, Jane did the usual run through her emails. Occasionally she would look down at the silver ring on her thumb and try to tug it free. She wondered why she had not noticed what the stallholder was doing and why she had not resisted it. Presumably, in the lost five minutes, Jane had paid for the ring and to the stallholder it would have seemed as if nothing unusual had occurred and that she was just had another happy customer. It was a very simple ring, nothing ostentatious and Jane hoped no-one would notice it. On the underground she had practiced covering her left hand with her right so as to conceal it. She would have to have a go with soap or something later. Ultimately she might have to saw the off ring off though she was loath to bring a hacksaw blade that close to her thumb.

"Jane, I thought you might like some coffee."

Jane looked up to see Steph standing there with two mugs. She seemed far more perky; less distant than usual.

"Thanks Steph." Jane said as the older woman brought over a cup of coffee.

"My pleasure." Steph said and turned back to her own desk. She then stopped and turned back. "I hope you don't mind me saying how great you look this morning, that outfit really suits you."

"Thank you."

Jane replied, wondering what had got into Steph this morning, but accepting a compliment when one came. She did not think she looked any different to how she usually did; maybe Steph had got some new glasses.

As Steph went back to sit at her desk Jane looked at the woman, who had to be somewhere in her late fifties, and wondered about her. She never appeared untidy but, then again, she never looked more than dull or mundane. She always wore rather shapeless clothing, distinguished only by what seemed to Jane to be quite juvenile patterns: predominantly of pairs of cats on the front of the home knitted jumpers she habitually wore. Jane wished she could talk with her a little more, but there was nothing much she could think about to say. Steph always came across as hesitant in her speaking, though, from what Jane saw, she worked hard and efficiently and she guessed that was why no-one challenged her position in the company. Even Derek and Matt and the other old fashioned males that the department seemed to have an excess of, stayed clear of her. Perhaps Steph resembled their mothers or grandmothers too much for them to feeling comfortable in troubling her.

Jane was curious as to what Steph's story was. From something she had said once, Jane estimated that she had been in the same post since sometime in the early eighties and seemed never to have progressed. Jane knew that twenty or so years ago unemployment was very bad and people had clung to whatever job they could get, but things had changed a lot since then. It almost seemed as if Steph had lost the will to try to get anything else and simply contented herself with marking time in this job. Jane quickly focused on her work, no, she was not going to let herself get into the trap again of seeing Steph as the future version of herself. While she liked the security of this job and was not someone to rush out and seek thrills, she did not want to be pressed down into the greyness of a life like Steph's. Jane wanted a husband and children and a people carrier and a nice garden, and dogs rather than cats, or maybe both. That was the kind of thing she and her friends had thought about when they were girls, teenagers even. University had shown her a range of other options, but she found she had come back to the established model in her mind in preference to those more risky paths.

Jane had lost contact with many of her friends, though, of course, there was Rachel who happened to live not far from where Jane's parents did, that is whenever they were actually at home and not off at some friend's house or the place they had bought in France and were overhauling. After graduating Rachel had gone to work for a solicitors in Salisbury and had looked on Jane as a bit of a risk-taker herself for making her way in the capital. Maybe it was time to call up Rachel and get her up to London. For Rachel it would be a chance to shake off the dust of life in Wiltshire so that she too did not slowly become a replica of Steph. For Jane it would be a chance to reconnect with her past and the normality of UK life outside the madness that was London.

Had no-one noticed? Steph asked herself a little incredulously. Or maybe they just did not care. Most of the men at this place had their heads so far jammed up their own egos that they would not notice if they came in and the whole roof of the building was missing. Well, Steph guessed, it did not matter, maybe it was better that it attracted no attention. For herself, though, she shot another surreptitious glance over at Jane's transformation. She must have had a busy weekend. First there was her hair, that smooth, boring helmet cut had gone, replaced with something a lot spikier, a little blonder too, cut tight at the back. It so reminded Steph of Annie Lennox in her 'Sweet Dreams' phase. How she had loved that video and the style of that suit she had worn in it. Despite being straight herself, Annie Lennox, had come into the media for Steph like some kind of a lesbian icon. Of course, that was part of the problem. The 'power dressing' that had smashed into businesswomen's wardrobes of the eighties, Steph had too often mistaken for lesbian chic. Sarah-Ann Faulkner had been a strong-willed businesswoman and that was, apparently, what she had been signalling with her suits, waistcoats and ties, not that she was open to interest from any 'dirty dykes' as she had so viciously phrased it when she had kicked her message into Steph.

In Jane's case, Steph thought the style was that bit different. It was not only the hair, but the additional earrings that she guessed may have been hidden beneath the all-

encompassing hairstyle before. The nose stud was certainly new. The clothes were stunning. Steph knew that suits were cheaper than ever but this one in a tan shade with grey shafts of silk between and the tie worn loosely around the oversized white collar seemed simultaneously to hint that Jane was a woman ready for business whether it was signing contracts or groping a colleague in the stock cupboard.

Steph chuckled to herself, she was letting her fantasies run away with her. She was pleased that Jane had the confidence. She felt a little naughty making the coffee and taking it over, really just to get a better look at Jane's new outfit, but then again, she had pledged to help the young woman out and a kind gesture did no-one any harm, even if some of Steph's motives were ulterior. There was no sexual desire in Steph any more, it had long been burnt out of her, it was more that she felt protective towards a woman who looked like she was on her way to getting many of the things Steph once dreamt of; she was keen that Jane achieve what she herself had missed out on.

"Hello, I'm Kym, the new counsellor for Morcar's."

Steph looked up at the woman a little startled by her voice. Kym was well-built though in proportion. She was probably a couple of hands taller than Steph and had a broad frame. Her round head with shoulder length dark hair, had a strong jaw, but her deep brown eyes seemed warm and reassured Steph more than the other aspects of Kym's appearance made her feel rather uneasy.

"Counsellor?"

"Yes, Mr. Logan felt it would help with the wellbeing of the staff to have someone to confide in, to help out if you have any problems or things are bothering you."

"Oh, right, that seems rather enlightened of him. Though thinking about it, he's not a bad sort, certainly better than a lot of the men here."

"Do you have difficulty with the men here? I see there are not many female staff."

"Well, the company does seem to recruit dinosaurs from the Chauvinistic Era which means they can be very self-centred and perceive women in a dated way."

"That doesn't sound good."

"They generally leave me alone. I've been here longer than all of them."

"So you're senior member of the company?"

Steph laughed. "No, I'm in the same position I was over twenty years ago. It pays me enough and I'm comfortable. Me, I don't like to take risks. I did once upon a time and paid a heavy price for it."

"Yes, yes, I can sense that. You know they win when they bar you from living your own life."

"Yes, they do that. You know, you are a very perceptive woman."

"It goes with the profession." Kym smiled. "I'm going round introducing myself to everyone this morning, but later, why don't you come and have a chat? I'm not aiming to pry into anything, but it would be good to get a woman's take on how things work here and I'm sure you're the expert."

Steph tried to ascertain if Kym was being patronising, but all she sensed was a genuine interest. Kym seemed authentic and Steph was not displeased to see they now had another woman in the company and one who seemed in tune with the issues facing someone like herself.

"You know, Kym, I'll do that. I'll bring along some hobnobs."

"Let's say three and we can have early tea. It's a date then."

Steph smiled. "No-one's said that to me in a long-time."

"Well, I think maybe they should. I can tell you have a lot to offer."

Steph wondered if somehow this woman, who was probably fifteen years her junior, was flirting with her, but she put it down to her trying to make Steph feel valued. Steph had to admit it was working and she realised that even in this short conversation she had warmed to the counsellor.

"I will see you at three. Thanks, Kym."

That afternoon she spoke to Kym in a way she had never spoken to anyone before. Outlining all that had happened to her and what it had meant for her dreams and how she had ended up living her life lifted Steph's spirits in a way they had not been for over two decades.

Going home that evening, Steph felt pleased with the world. It might be Kym's job to help Steph see herself in a better light but she had done it in such a way that Steph had felt as if she was unburdening herself to an old friend. In turn, for the first time in ages, Steph felt she could shake things up and live her life in a way which did not bow down to the demands of others. Added to that, Steph thought, was the bonus of seeing Jane, who she was coming to perceive as her prot�g�e, appearing so stylish; Steph hoped for big things there and a shot at happiness for a young woman who clearly deserved it.

Jane was glad to get back into her flat. People around her on the tube train seemed to have been behaving a little peculiarly and she had found it difficult to concentrate on her book. Jane went upstairs, deciding that she needed a bath before fixing herself some food. As she walked into her bedroom, Jay looked at herself in the mirror. Jay? Where had that come from? She had always been Jane, it was not really a name you could abbreviate or that there were lots of variations for. Elizabeths had Liz, Lizzie, Beth, even Liza or Eliza if they really insisted, but Jane was Jane.

Those thoughts stopped abruptly as Jane's brain began realising what she was seeing. In the mirror was a woman with short, rather spiky, blonde hair. Jane guessed it was bleached, but no roots were showing, it looked well done. A row of silver rings ran up her right ear, there were a couple of others on the left and a silver stud shone from the side of her nose. Jane had the standard one earring on each side and tended to see anything else as a bit excessive or weird, but she had to admit that the combination this woman was showing was at once a little different, but discrete; the small silver rings looked beautiful.

The woman wore a sleeveless ribbed top in a blue-grey shade. Jane never wore anything which exposed her shoulders that way. The top clung to the woman and to Jane looked a size or so too small. She knew it was common for teenage girls to expose their midriff these days but she had always thought it was too much on a woman, certainly one like her, in her mid-twenties. She did feel that this woman's middle was attractive… 'attractive' was that the right word? Well, anyway, a cropped top that showed her midriff looked good for her rather than embarrassing.

Below the bare skin was slung a belt with two rows of pyramidal studs. Jane had always associated such belts with rock stars, though she knew from flicking through the Sunday newspaper magazine supplements that these days they were popular with women of all kinds. As with the earrings, the belt was tough and shiny enough to attract attention without suggesting the woman wearing it was likely to rob you. The tight skinny jeans she wore were of the style that had been popular for a few seasons now. Jane never wore them that tight, she worried her hips would look terrible in them, but, again with the woman she was looking at, they seemed just right.

The woman she was looking at? Jane's mind jolted as it realised she had been happily running through a fashion assessment of the woman standing in front of her, without actually wondering what on Earth she was doing there. Jane stepped back defensively and saw the woman do the same. She gasped as she remembered this was not a doorway, but a mirror she was looking at. She lifted her hand, almost quivering as the reflection did the same. Reflection, how could that be? She did not dress or look like this. Startled, Jane turned away, frightened that some strong hallucination had come on her. She walked in a daze to the kitchen and supported herself on the work surface. She had no idea what to reach for but in the end settled for camomile tea and two headache tablets.

Thoughts ran chaotically through Jane's head. She drank the tea while it was hot hoping that the burn of it on her tongue would wake her from whatever dream she was in. However, as the camomile relaxed her, she realised she was awake. That meant the image she had seen, and a sustained one, not simply the flash of something, must be in her mind. She looked down at herself to confirm that she had not somehow, madly, changed her hairstyle, jewellery and clothes without noticing, but, of course, from this angle all she saw was the blouse and skirt she had put on that morning. Calmed by the tea she walked back to the hallway looking in any direction that she could bar at the mirror until she was standing right in front of it once again. The reflection was the same as it had been before, with the stylish, even sexy woman standing there and then reflecting each of Jane's actions.

Jane looked carefully at the face but she somehow knew the answer before she had even fully taken in the woman's features. She might be dressed very differently and seemed rather tanned, but the eyes, the shape of the ears, of the nose and the lips, even the occasional little freckle matched those that Jane knew from her own face. With no rational explanation apparent, Jane's mind ran through fantastical thoughts about magic mirrors and portals to other worlds. To test these theories, however impossible they seemed, she searched out her compact mirror but it too showed her the blonde-

haired many pierced woman with her face. Bemused, Jane wandered back to the mirror.

The third time of seeing this image meant the surprise was reduced, though Jane did wonder how she was going to be able to tend to her own hair and make-up if her reflection showed a very different style. She gazed at the distorted image and noticed something: it was that ring. The woman in the mirror had quite a few on her hands and in contrast Jane only had a signet ring and that silver one the stallholder had jammed on her. It was that one that she shared with the woman in the mirror. Again Jane tugged at it but it refused to shift. Was that what was causing this peculiar reflection?

The longer she was standing here the more she noticed that the expression and gestures of the image seemed slightly different to a true reflection of what she was doing. This woman seemed to be admiring, almost stroking, the ring rather than trying to pull it off. Yet, how was all this possible? Jane did not believe magic existed outside fairy tales and the only explanation which seemed feasible in this world was that somehow the mirror had been lined with some sophisticated electronics zapping this image into her mind. Even then, whilst it might not be impossible, it still seemed incredible. Why would anyone bother to give her such a piece of high tech spy gadgetry? As Jane wandered to her living room she began concocting a complex story about the stallholder being some spy contact who had been rumbled and had had to dispose of the evidence quickly so had pressed it on Jane. Again, it might be possible, but it seemed unlikely.

Idly, feeling wearied by all that had happened to her, Jane flicked on the television. She recognised that she lacked the attention to be able to concentrate on anything too complex so pulled up a music channel. She had often got a guilty pleasure at watching the various boy bands bouncing around in their regimented dance moves. Of course, she knew, she would never have an encounter with someone like them, and anyway, she realised, possibly for the first time, any man who looked like that was probably gay or so vain he would be a pain to be with. Tonight, for a change, Jane found herself drawn more to performers like Pink and Christine Aguillera and that she was strangely admiring the impressive outfits they wore. For some reason she felt a little aroused. She guessed it was the release of tension after the fright earlier and the fact that their performances did seem sexy in a different way to many of the upfront, almost soft porn, music videos that showed these days. Somehow these female performers could be sexy, raunchy even, and yet without debasing themselves as women. It seemed it was usually the men in the videos who danced to the two women's lead.

Feeling better, and deciding finally to have that bath she had ended up delaying, Jane headed back to the bedroom. She could not resist looking again in the mirror, but the reflection was the same. Clearly this hallucination was more than a passing incident. The camomile in her bloodstream stopped Jane being alarmed as she had been before, and, now, she looked on with curiosity. The reflection mimicked her actions, but as Jane removed the blouse and skirt of her work, Jay shed her more trendy clothes. The body beneath was different too. Jane's had unmarked flesh, pale from minimal contact with the sun; Jay's arms were tanned and also emblazoned with tattoos, complex entwined patterns that looked like stylised plants. Another tattoo sat in the small of her back.

Jane looked at the reflection intrigued and both startled yet fascinated. She had never considered being tattooed and imagined she would faint at the thought of machine-

driven needles piercing her skin. The reflection seemed like a portal into alternate dimension. Whilst no fan of science fiction, she had seen 'Sliding Doors' and knew about the theories that there were infinite versions of the world and a different version of each of us in it. Was she somehow seeing a very different version of herself in a different version of London? That explanation seemed as fantastical as any of the others she could think of. She dismissed the speculations from her mind and collecting her favourite copy of 'Northanger Abbey' headed to the bath.

The hallucinations persisted the following day. As she put on her work 'uniform' of plain blouse, sweater and shirt, now she saw herself in some sleek, male-looking business suit with a tie loosely hanging from the open collar of an over-sized red shirt. This led Jane to do something she had not done for years and call in sick to work. Knowing she would have to wait a week for an appointment with her own doctor, she went to a walk-in centre. She was pleased that they took Jane's concerns seriously. They were not interested what Jane was seeing just that she was seeing things. They ran her through a series of blood tests primarily to make sure no-one had drugged her somehow. She discussed the situation with the doctor there who felt the symptoms were not characteristic of anything physical such a tumour, otherwise she would have been liable to see such things in any location not just in a mirror. By the end of the day, physically Jane had been given the all-clear but was told to see her local doctor if things worsened. She was advised to either ignore the symptoms and trust they went away or begin to talk to someone about psychological causes. Again, her doctor could refer her, but the clinic suggested there might be someone else she could talk these things through with.

Jane was rather distracted when she returned to work the following day. She was pleased by the check-up suggesting she had neither been drugged nor was likely to be suffering some severe condition. However, it did not resolve the fact that for some inexplicable reason she saw herself in mirrors, in fact in any reflective surface, as some strange version of herself dressed in a fashion she would never consider. She now began fearing it was something like a split personality. The doctor at the walk-in centre had not dismissed mental concerns, but for Jane it was a big step to face up to the fact that she might be mad.

"Hello, Jane. You're looking great again today."

Steph seemed surprisingly perky this morning, though maybe it was simply in contrast to Jane's own worries.

"Hello, Steph. I don't feel it, I'm getting worried that I'm going insane."

"Have you chatted with Kym?"

"Kym? Oh, that counsellor. She came and introduced herself yesterday."

"She's the best thing Logan's done for this company in years. She seems so understanding and really allowed me to put things in perspective. It lifted a bit of a burden."

"Right." Jane wondered what this burden was, though she guessed it was something bad from years back which explained why Steph had come to almost shut herself down from the rest of society.

"Go along and see her. It's heartbreaking to see a pretty woman like you looking down, especially as you seemed so vibrant the day before yesterday, I'd hate you to lose that appearance."

"I will go, thanks Steph."

Wearily Jane pulled herself up and headed towards Kym's office. If what she was experiencing was psychological a work counsellor could be the first step. Presumably she could refer Jane on for further treatment if necessary without her having to go to her local doctor. She hoped that Kym was discreet because she would hate any of this to leak back to her bosses, especially Logan. In modern day Britain careers were so fragile and work could disappear so easily. You had to cling to any job you got and keep you head down otherwise you would find your contract had expired and somebody cheaper in your seat before you knew it.

Kym smiled as Jane entered and that gesture surprisingly made Jane feel much more comfortable. Kym was a large woman but well proportioned, though her features throughout seemed confident, bold even.

"It's Jane isn't it? I'm Kym. Take a seat. I must say, I like what you're wearing."

"Erm, thanks, it's nothing special."

Kym chuckled lightly. "It's always those with the greatest style who can say that about what they wear."

Maybe there was something she had done that made her look so good to older women. Well, was Kym older? Jane could not really tell, she was one of those women of an indeterminate age and, as she looked at Kym, Jane could not really tell if she was her own age or three decades older.

"Thank you." Jane said, remembering her manners about responding to compliments, maybe more important than ever now that she seemed to be getting more of them.

"Right, well, it's nice to meet you. You work in the same department as Stephanie Clarke?"

Jane nodded. "I'm just across from her."

"Good, right. When I'm new to a place I like to get to know where everyone is located. How can I help you today, Jane?"

"Well, erm." Jane hesitated then thought that was silly, she had already gone through all of this at the walk-in clinic. Maybe it was that she was hesitant about revealing what was happening to her in a work setting.

"Are you worried that what you've got to say is personal?"

Jane nodded.

"Jane, please be assured that what you say here is entirely confidential. I would not have let the company employ me as its counsellor if I had any concerns about the confidentiality of what the people I am talking to tell me. Okay?"

Jane nodded again.

"There may be situations in which I think it would be advisable for you to talk with someone else, a specialist, but I would never go ahead and contact them without explicit permission from you. In most cases I advise those I am helping to contact those people themselves, so that leaves all the control in your hands."

"I understand." Jane responded, feeling, as Kym spoke, more confident with every passing moment. "That's set my mind at rest."

"So what do you want to discuss today?"

"Well, I have been seeing things. It's really scary and nothing seems to stop it."

"Yes, I understand, seeing hallucinations can be alarming. There may be a number of causes. I suggest that you talk to your GP, you may be suffering from some kind of virus."

"Oh, I've done that. A walk-in centre ran me through a series of blood tests. It's apparently not being caused by anything physical they can find, nor any reaction to any medicines, not that I take anything bar the odd headache tablet."

"Well, that's one step resolved and I've guessed you've come to the stage when you're wondering if it is psychological."

Jane nodded. "I am, well, you can guess, it's a bit of a big step, saying 'yes, I'm seeing things, I need a psychiatrist'."

"And you thought that coming to the counselling service would be less scary." Kym smiled.

"Yes." Jane replied, glad that Kym seemed to understand her.

Yes, Kym did seem understanding, and Jane felt it would be good to know her better, she could imagine she was a woman she could talk to easily and that they could have a good laugh together. Jane wondered what she would look like with her hair down and out of that formal suit. Jane shook herself, what was she thinking? This was serious it could affect her job prospects if it got out she was suffering this kind of problem. She had to get help and stop it as soon as possible.

"What kind of things do you see?"

"Well, it's not anything like ghosts or people from the past or anything like that. It's me, I see myself, only in mirrors. Sorry, this is sounding silly."

"Jane, don't worry, take your time. Take it a step at a time. So you see images of yourself in mirrors, but I guess they're not of how you appear?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you appear older or younger?"

"The same age."

"But different? A different gender, a different colour?"

"No, I see me as a 24-year old woman, but dressed really differently. In different clothes, with a different hairstyle, a pretty extreme one."

"Very intriguing. Have you ever thought what it would be like if you had made different choices in your past, gone to a different school or had different friends?"

"Erm, not really. I did think it was something like a portal to a different Earth, you know, a universe where things turned out in a different way, but that's fantastical isn't it?"

"Well, you could be partly right, certainly in that you are seeing a version of yourself for whom things came out differently. It may raise questions about how you live your life and what tensions there are in that."

"Mmm, erm, I see."

As Jane heard these words, she felt almost as if she was being swept away to somewhere different. Her focus remained on Kym but it was of a very different nature. Rather than see her simply as the counsellor sitting across from her, she saw her as a woman and a very attractive woman. The sensation increased and she began pondering what Kym's body would feel it, how it would feel to touch, to caress, to kiss, to lick.

"Jane, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, sorry. It's just that my mind keeps wandering."

"Right," Kym made a note to herself, seeming to jump in with this new thread, "and did this distraction start at the same time as the hallucinations?"

"Yes, yes, I guess it did."

"And it clearly does not happen when you see one of those images? Or are you seeing one now?"

"Now, I'm not, but yes, I found my mind slipping away. I stopped listening to what you were saying and my mind started running down a whole line of thought that was totally unsuited to where we are."

"What were these thoughts about?"

Jane flushed. Whilst talking to Kym had reassured her, her old reluctance to reveal the type of thoughts she had been thinking prevented her from speaking.

"Were they sexual thoughts?" Kym prompted.

"Erm, well sort of, I guess. They would have gone that way I imagine if I had let them."

"Okay. And who were they about?"

Jane coughed.

"About me?"

Jane gave a shy nod wishing she had never come to this place.

"Right, well that's not surprising, it often occurs between clients and those helping them. Do you have a partner?"

"No, no I don't. I have dated a few men but I guess I have not had any luck. I am thinking that I lack the kind of experience men are looking for these days. They seem to expect you to know and do all kinds of things."

"That you're not comfortable with?"

"Yes, I suppose so, and I'm sure even if I tried I would get it wrong."

"Okay. So, you're bisexual, bi-curious?"

"Erm, sorry, you mean, erm, I'm not really sure what you mean."

"Well, you started talking about men, but when you said you were having sexual thoughts about me, I had imagined you were gay; you know, a lesbian. You know the company has equal opportunities policies on sexual orientation. You might want to keep your private life to yourself, that is fine, but don't worry that the company will cause trouble if it comes out or you choose to be more open about your sexuality."

Jane felt bewildered and her pulse seemed to be sounding out through her head.

"Erm, okay, alright. Can I have some water?"

"Certainly." Kym quickly left the room but quickly returned with two plastic cups of water.

Jane drank deeply, glad of the cool liquid.

"So, you thought I was a lesbian or at least a bisexual?"

"Well, it was only from what you said."

"Yes, but that was not me. That was all these thoughts I have been having. I've never been attracted to women. I certainly find some women beautiful but I had never considered any kind of intimate relationship with one. I went to a standard co-

educational comprehensive school."

Kym smiled. "You don't have to a girls' private school to be a lesbian, you know. In society, lots of things, expectations, embarrassment, all of that, can lead us to suppress who we really are."

"Okay." Jane said tentatively.

"Well, we are rather rushing ahead of ourselves. We can return to causes in a moment. For now it's important for me to get an idea of what you are seeing, how often and how severe the visions are. Knowing more about their nature may tell us more about what is provoking them."

"Okay." Jane responded slowly, unsettled by all the stuff that Kym had mentioned about sexuality. "It is very restricted, I just see a woman, well she looks like me, and I see her only in mirrors and things like mirrors, you know, glass at night time, TV screens when the programme is off, that kind of thing. At first I looked away, but then I thought it best to really see what the image looked like."

"That was sensible, even though it might have been difficult. As I say, if we know more about the images we might learn more about the cause. So, you see yourself, but not as you are."

"That's right, as I say, I appear the same age. It's just she looks different."

"In what ways?"

"Well, she dresses completely differently, fashionably I suppose. I don't think of myself as unfashionable, but I don't wear cropped tops or teeshirts and jeans, well not tight ones like that or a belt with studs. Her hair's very different too, it's short, rather spiky, and blonde, so not at all like mine; that's the biggest difference. Her face is the same as mine, well mainly: I don't have all those earrings or a nose stud."

"Does seeing yourself like that frighten you?"

"Well it certainly did the first time I saw her. Now it's just a pain because I can't use a mirror to do my hair or make-up, I have to do it by touch."

"Does this image reflect exactly what you're doing?"

"Most of the time."

"When does it do something different?"

"Well, she does not have longish hair to brush and I don't have those earrings to sort out. She does not wear buttoned up tops and also, well sometimes, when I was looking last night, I saw that she likes to touch herself."

"Sexually?"

"Erm, no, yes. It could be. She lifts up her breasts and sometimes runs her hand between her thighs, but I walked away from the mirror once I started seeing that. Is it schizophrenia?" Jane asked the last part abruptly.

"It is a form of mental upset, I grant that, but don't scare yourself, schizophrenia is a much more chronic condition and I feel you are a long way from that."

"That's reassuring."

"So it's more about the fear of what this image of yourself represents rather than the image itself."

"Yes, it's so removed from my life."

"But you've never been compelled to mimic the image you see, for example to grasp your breasts when the image shows you doing that?"

"No, not at all. That is the reassuring thing. I don't feel she is running my life or telling me what to do. I would be worried if I started dressing and behaving like her. She is so alien to my life."

"Is she?"

"Well, of course, do I look anything like that?"

"Well, you said the face is your face reflected."

"Yes, but the rest, the clothes, the jewellery?"

"You could be appear like that in less than an hour. There are thousands, millions of women your age who look like that, why not you?"

"It's not me."

"Well, what if I suggested that this," Kym gestured towards Jane with an open hand, "you as I see you now, is not actually you and instead the reflection is; the reflection is the 'true' you?"

"Now, you're playing with me Kym. This is me, nothing else is."

"But what if there was a 'you' that is hidden beneath the things of habit, of expectations of everyday mundane life? Would that be any less real than how you appear here?"

"So you're saying I'm seeing the hidden side of my personality: that really I want to look like that?"

"Don't you?"

"No."

"Okay. We'll put the appearance aspect to one side for the moment. What do you think a lesbian looks like?"

Jane felt a bit of a shock at the abrupt shift in line of questioning and a little weary about Kym's obsession with the sexual aspect.

"Does it all come down to sex all the time?"

"No, but sex is one of the biggest drivers of our personalities and our behaviour. From what you have said, it seems that you are not having any outlet for your sexual aspects and also, possibly, I say possibly, part of this stems from the fact that your true sexuality is different from what you think it is."

Jane's memory prompted her with recollections of viewing the women in the videos and how she had began to feel when she had began talking to Kym and then that woman she had seen on the bus. "Okay, I will concede you that."

"So what do you think a lesbian looks like?"

"Erm, I suppose like any other woman."

"Yes, I accept that, but I think lurking in your head is an image of a lesbian. Let's be more specific, let's say, a 24-year old lesbian, who is single and likes to look good, to feel sexy as she goes about her daily business, who goes out on a Friday night and wants to signal that she's available without communicating she is loose?"

"Okay, okay. I see what you are driving at. From what I know about lesbians I guess they are not all curls and dresses and I suppose that another woman looking for a woman would like to see her lines shown in the clothes she wears just as men like women in tight jeans. Then again, I guess there are signals that she is a lesbian, the shortish hair amongst them."

"Very good. So, if you were to dress up how you feel a lesbian going out would look, you can see you might resemble very closely these images you are seeing?"

"So you're saying that my mind is somehow showing me what my subconscious wants me to look like?"

"That sounds very likely."

"So what is the cure?"

"Well, I'm not a psychiatrist as I say, I am a counsellor, but with that in consideration, the 'cure' is that you stop denying those urges. From what you said about me earlier, I think they are bubbling closer to the surface anyway. No-one can suppress their true identity forever, if they try it's going to cause problems. I think your psyche is rather impatient, it's showing you what it thinks you need to do to get what it is demanding, as quickly as possible."

"It's saying, if I dressed up like that I would attract a woman and have sex with her, and my subconscious would be at rest?"

"Well, it's not that simple, nine out of ten men are looking for a woman, whereas only one out of ten women are looking for a woman, so statistically it is more challenging, but you're in London not some remote Welsh village. I guess if you went to a lesbian club dressed the way you are now you would stand a chance of meeting a woman you could have a relationship with, of whatever duration you wanted. However, you are an intelligent woman, and deep inside you would know that you were not revealing yourself as a lesbian. It seems that at least part of you wants to be seen in that way. Even more than that, it seems apparent to me that you want to appear sexy. Appearing in reality the way you see yourself most likely would turn on at least half the men in any room. So, there's a lot going on there about how you see yourself and how you would like to be seen."

Jane laughed sharply. "This is madness. You are saying I can resolve my mental issues by going on a shopping spree, getting a haircut and heading to some lesbian club?"

"Yes."

"No, I'm not mad, you are. There's never such a simple solution…"

"Well, we start with the simple ones and if they do not work you move to the next step, but you can go and ask any psychiatrist, any doctor that. They're not going to simply start prescribing prozac or lithium. Some of them would send you out of their surgeries telling you to get on to a helpline. You need to address this issue first before anyone can see if there is anything else going on. I accept it is just my opinion, but I would bet you that if in six months from now you have a nice girlfriend or have even had a few one-night stands, you won't be seeing any more hallucinations."

"But the price is that I end up looking like some kind of freak from my nightmares." Jane's anger at what Kym was saying made her response harsher than she really felt, but now she was becoming stubborn.

"Well, you came to me for help and I've done the best I can. It is up to you now."

Jane tried to think up a harsh retort but could find nothing. She stood up and left the room without saying a word, determined that she could find someone who would take her seriously rather than come up with some half-baked philosophy. If Jane had not known better, she would have argued Kym was trying to turn her into a lesbian. However, as she stamped away from the office back to her desk, she realised she was being silly. Kym was right, she was only trying to be helpful, but Jane also knew she was free to simply ignore the 'advice' if she chose. Running her mind over it, it seemed ridiculous to think of herself as a lesbian. She knew that female pop stars might kiss each other for publicity but she had never done that and as she thought more about it, she had no idea how lesbians could even have sex.

Jane let herself calm down, and feeling a little guilty walked back to Kym's office. The woman seemed untouched by Jane's behaviour, which she now recognised had been rather childish.

"I'm sorry." Jane said in a conciliatory tone. "It's not you're fault, it's just that I'm not often ill and this is so different to anything I have experienced before."

"People find it easier to deal with a physical situation than a mental one." Kym explained. "My suggestion is that you take time to explore your sexuality, but if you are truly unhappy with that, there is another starting point, nothing too severe. I have a friend, a professional therapeutic hypnotist. Her name is Petra Northgate. Here is her card."

Jane took the business card, happier with this outcome rather than the one she seemed to have been getting from Kym before. Hypnosis did not seem to be a frightening step. Jane did not think it would work on her, but she might as well give it ago because eliminating all the alternatives would make her case more convincing when she went to the doctor and asked for prescription medicines.

"Thank you. Erm thanks for your help."

"Well, please don't discard what I've said. I'm concerned that you're making a minor issue into some major illness. Go with your feelings that will benefit you all round."

"Okay." Jane said tersely and left.

Back at her desk she called the number. It took a while to be connected to Petra but fortunately she had had a cancellation and was in a position to see Jane the following afternoon. Her office was in Aldgate, pretty easy for Jane to reach. One thing about having spoken to Kym was that Jane could now cite her as the cause of her having to leave work earlier the next day. Not that Jeremy Milward, her line manager, worried too much. He seemed wedded to his telephone and preferred staff not to bother him.