"If the fourteen-year-old Jamie could see me now," Jamie said to himself as he looked at his reflected image.
He was thin and clean-shaven and he was beginning to look like a woman. A shiver rolled down his spine. He saw a female figure taking shape before his very eyes - just as he had done all those years ago in his mother's bedroom. Only Nancy knew the truth: that the period of enforced dressing every day for eight days when he was fourteen, then meeting Oscar who had been convinced he was female, had induced in him a love of female clothing, of female impersonation that he could not resist. Since those days he had read copious books and magazines on the subject and borrowed female clothes whenever he could. He was starting to understand that he was not a homosexual but a transvestite. Apparently there was a difference, although not to the wider society which considered men who dressed as woman to be homosexuals...