Why did I do it? Even now, I don’t know. Of course, it was the start of a very strange part of my life but I still have no idea. A man so handsome, he made my panties want to dissolve, made me want to fling myself at his feet and beg him to take me, that man tells me to get ‘em out for the lads. And what do I do? I do it.

It was hard. Just listening to him was making me shake inside. If that was what the doorman looked like, how the hell was I going to cope with the guests inside?

I was so nervous on the journey, I didn’t even clock that the taxi driver was trying to con me. I was too busy wondering if I was going to get thrown out before I even got inside. Would they immediately know I wasn’t Ms X, would they ask for I.D? I had told the cabbie to wait when we got there but that didn’t happen either. None of this went according to plan from the minute I got there.

Buying the dress was the last time I felt in control. Mum had sat in her wheelchair helping me pick out options, ignoring every single protest I made about price. “That would be one bill off our backs,” I said.

“And you’d have all the others shouting all the louder and you wouldn’t get a night out of your dreams either. Just take these in the changing room and try them on.”

"I could leave you behind, run up some stairs until you see sense."

"I can still walk, Fiona. I'm not a dalek, nor are you. You're a stubborn girl and you're going to do as you're told."

There was no reasoning with her. I felt little again, just doing what I was told by my mum. The first gown was awful, it made me look like a complete slut, barely brushing my thighs. “It might work if you’re auditioning for the remake of Pretty Woman,” Mum said when she saw it. “But maybe not for tonight.”

The second one was just as bad. “Maybe I should try something a bit longer,” I said, tugging at the hem and hoping I wouldn’t be arrested for indecent exposure.

The third one was the charm. We tried three more after that but in the end I made the decision. The third one hung well on me, accentuating my chest but bringing in my hips somehow. It was shimmering silver and made me feel like I was in a fairytale, just wearing it made me feel sexy.

“Good luck,” Mum said, kissing my cheek that evening as the taxi blew it’s horn outside. “Ring me if there’s any problems.”

“I will,” I said, pulling open the front door.

I had to resist biting my nails on the way there, I was on the edge of telling him to turn the car around and take me back. Mum had given me the last thirty she had in the world to pay for the journey. “You can’t walk all the way to Liberty Manor,” she said when I suggested it. “And certainly not in those shoes.”

I tottered out of the cab at the other end and into the most surreal conversation I’d ever had. The doorman asking me if I knew the rules, me trying to pretend I wasn’t an impostor, agreeing that of course I did. Then he dropped the bombshell.

I didn’t know much about rich people’s parties. I didn’t know much about parties at all. I knew I could tell him there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going topless. But then what would Mum say when I told her? The money would have been wasted. I’d still be a check out girl come Monday. And I’ve have had to walk home. I didn’t fancy my chances with getting a taxi back, word would no doubt be getting around that I was an awkward customer.

I thought about all that but most of all I thought about him. I didn’t know him. He was just a doorman. But he had a face I could have happily seen between my legs and a commanding voice that I didn’t want to disappoint. Plus, I couldn’t admit I was lying, that was more shameful than flashing my boobs somewhere no one knew me.

What was it that Mum had said? Be someone else for the night? Live a little? If nothing else, this would give me one hell of a story to share with her when I got home.

So I took a deep breath and I listened to the little exhibitionist that lived somewhere inside me but who I kept locked away most of the time. I slid my dress down over my breasts, wincing as I waited for him to laugh at them, call them the smallest he’d ever seen.

But he didn’t do that. He looked at me as I clasped my hands together, fighting the urge to put my chest away. My nipples throbbed and it wasn’t just from the cold. It was from the way he looked at them so hungrily.

I walked over to the front door, my chest out, like it was some kind of naughty dream. But this was real. The noise of laughter and conversation was real, coming from somewhere deeper in the house.

I turned around, the doorman was still stood looking at me. “Do I just go in?” I asked.

“I could accompany you if you like?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all, it would be an honour.”

“You sure you won’t get in trouble?”

“I doubt it.”

He stepped forwards, closing the door behind him. “Besides, you’re the last of the guests. Everyone else is already here.”

He held out his arm and I looped mine through his.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, trying to ignore the thumping of my heart in my chest and the fact all the moisture had left my throat for some reason. Even my eyes stung, I could have sworn I was blinking far too much. He squeezed my arm and I manage a smile, refusing to look down at my exposed chest. One glance and I’d have run through the door, leaving a Fiona shaped hole behind in the wood.

I took a step forwards, then another, then we were at a wooden door. He pushed it open and I entered a world that I’d never encountered before in my life.