Delivery

By Tiffany Tyler

It's the anticipation as much as anything that drives me to do it. The covert prep, the excitement as Joan on reception hands you a parcel that you know contains eyelashes or a necklace or a pair of 'fuck me' Pleasers. "Here you go David, another parcel for you, anything nice?" - 'Oh my god Joan, the prettiest La Senza babydoll, just hoping I can squeeze into it' I say in my head, but "hope so" is all that comes out, wondering whether that heat building inside me is showing through.

The shopping trip for basics - moisturiser, eyeliner, colour corrector (my saviour), primed at any moment if asked "why are you buying all this girly stuff?" to come back deadpan with "oh I just get sent to buy it, no idea what it all is" yet knowing exactly what every last drop is going to do for me and sensing the excitement grow.

Nipping into a clothes shop, double down on the tension, spotting a lace front bodysuit, having to have it there and then, catching the girl on the till's slightly quizzical eye, wondering does she think I'm a very generous boyfriend? Or does she know I'll be pulling it on and making love to a camera in it before the night's up?

Back home, the steady build to a state of heightened bliss starts. Alone for three days of transformation. I can't relax though, I get so excited, so ahead of myself, I lose focus, oh my god I get to wear that lacey skater dress, there's that bustier top I got in the sale, oh yes, I finally get to wear those 6 inch pink pumps that are patently way too small for me but I will die trying to get on.

And so the ritual begins. The long bath, the making smooth, lingering over the important areas, well aware that the only person who will run their hands over them will be me. The plucking, the cutting, the sculpting, and then the denouement. The final steps to femininity. Moisturiser, primer, corrector, eye shadow, eyeliner, lashes, lipstick, hair. God this is a faff, why do I do this? ....then step back and wham right there, that's why ...... suddenly a woman you kind of know but aren't completely sure of stares back. That moment, it takes your breath away. I float to pick an outfit, stockings and suspender belt, knickers - a skimpy lacy thong, (well as skimpy as a gurl can get away with), a new bra that fits like a dream and will help me stand out in anyone's crowded photostream, plus a simple tight fitting long skirt that pulls up to my boobs like a mini dress.

A hazy feeling takes hold as I apply the finishing touches, earrings, necklace, I start to think yeah, not bad babe, then Bang! Outside - a tart 'rap, rap, rap' on the glass door, sharp, impatient.

Shit, who's that? Ignore it..

And again....louder... 'bang bang bang' .....

A neighbour? Friend just bobbed round? Work! Well I simply can't go to the door dressed like this, I'll wait it out.

'Bang bang bang', jeez your going to put the glass through I think...."Delivery!, I need you to sign..." I hear.

Oh what the hell have I ordered? Oh wait...

Two weeks ago I'd bought the most beautiful pair of boots online you could imagine. 'Belinda' black matte thigh boots, soft and so sexy I'd fallen for them immediately.

So here is my dilemma, open the door in my bra, and of course a totally different gender, potentially exposing Tiffany to the neighbours and the world and all of the potentially life changing issues that would create...or take delivery of my breathtaking Giaro boots. It was a no brainer, front it out, I need those boots.

My mind raced....quick, could I pull this off? I'd managed to look pretty passable in pictures, or so people told me, but this is real life which is a whole different tangle of tights. I went to shout....then suddenly realised I had never spoken a word as Tiffany. I tried a strangled high pitched "Coming!" to the impatient man, cringed, then looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked....ok. make up job fine, could do with some lip gloss, no time... hair mmmm, god I struggle with hair...sod it, put it up. Clothes....I'm in my bra with my boobs busting out, not quite door opening gear... I grab a lacey bolero...ok...let's do this....hang on...heels...in for a penny, I slip into my favourite black peep toes...no, I definitely need lip gloss..argh nails! not a chance. I shout another "coming!" to an increasingly angry driver on an impossibly tight schedule. It feels slightly less strained this time, I'm thinking wtf, I'm never going to see this man again, let's just open that door and see what happens. So I take a last minute selfie (obvs), blow myself a kiss, (so vain), totter down to the front door and take a slightly terrified deep breath....