Easy As Getting Wet.
by Bonzi in boots.
part: 287. (nearly 24 dozen or is that two gross?)

We slept almost as soon as we got to bed, or at least I did. Despite my naps, I was exhausted. At some point during the night, I remember Simon waking me, I was crying in my sleep apparently.

It was lovely to wake with him still there, instead of dashing off to work. I looked at the clock, it was nearly eight o'clock. He was snoring gently as he lay on his back, his arm draped across my leg. I moved it gently without disturbing him and lay on my side, my head raised upon my elbow, watching him.

After a few minutes of me sending him love and yet more love, he opened one eye and said, "Wot you lookin' at?"

"The man I love. Why, what's it got to do with you?"

"Nuffin' missus, just bleedin' askin' that's all."

"Well that's alright then."

"Good, gi's a kiss then!"

"Can't do that, my fiance's watching."

"Soon fix that," he shut his eyes and I leant forward and kissed him.

He put his arm around me pulling me almost on top of him, whereupon, he kissed me as passionately as ever he had. I reciprocated and after a few minutes of pausing for breath, I lay mostly on top of him and rested my head on his shoulder. He smelt musky and masculine and I tucked my nose under his arm, inhaling his scent.

Once he realised what I was doing, he made me stop, "Ugh! How could you?"

"How could I what?"

"Sniff my arm pit."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's horrible, yuck! How could you?"

"Easy, want me to show you?"

"No I don't, you, you animal!" His eyes were twinkling as he said this. "You women have one track minds, you know that? All you think about all day long is sex."

"Hmmm," I said and nodded.

He pushed me to one side and got out of bed, pointing at his underpants, or rather the bulge in them, "Purely toiletry needs," he said and disappeared to the bathroom. I sniggered when I thought about how much difficulty he was going to have emptying his tank in that state.

After breakfast, the reality of the situation came back. I had to go to the hospital to get the death certificate and organise the undertaker, unless I'd done that last night. I couldn't say, I couldn't remember much more than a blur of sadness.

I washed up and called the same undertaker who had attended to my mother. He promised to call the hospital and see that there were no delays such as post mortems. He would call me back within the hour.

He did. I was making up the mix for the bread maker when he rang. He'd sorted it and would collect the body that morning. I would need to get the death certificate myself from the registrar. I thanked him and looked at Simon, "Ready to do the running around then?"

"That's what I'm here for." He stood up and pulled on his jacket.

"Is that the same one at which I threw the toast?

"Yep."

"It's a nice jacket, sorry."

"Okay, I won't kill you today."

"Why not, you might even get a bulk order discount from the undertaker."

"Doubt it, their business appears to be dying off."

I groaned, "Simon, that is a first form joke."

"Yeah, that's where I heard it, I think, or it could have been prep school."

"Yeah, that figures."

"I beg your pardon, but my prep school was a very good one."

"I'm sure it was, the best money could buy, and all that."

"Nah, it was the same one Dad went to, he got discount."

"What?"

"Yeah he gotta discount to do dat and dat count to do dis...."

"Simon, shut up!" I hit him on the arm and he pretended I'd hurt him. I was laughing too much, I should be sad, but I wasn't. I was happy that my father had acknowledged me before he'd died. I was glad that he'd wanted me to visit him and that he had waited for me to get there. I was also with the man I loved, who had come to help me in my hour of need. What more could a girl want?

We spent the whole morning visiting officialdom, showing copies of the certificates to the bank, his solicitor, and sorting out any insurances. I discovered Daddy had prepaid his funeral with the undertaker I'd contacted. So that was all taken care of and would save a lot of work.

We had lunch at a pub near the solicitor's offices in Cottham, then back home to go through any papers, notifying those who needed to know and so on. It's exhausting and thankless toil, but it has to be done. The utilities were the worst, you'd think they could set up a temporary account until I decided what I wanted to do with the house, assuming he'd left it to me. But no they can't, so we left them in Daddy's name until I closed them after the will was settled and the rest of the usual.

I'd also have the job of going through his clothes and stuff and disposing of them. I'd done it for Mummy, so I suppose I'd manage for him too. Part of me knew it was a duty, part wanted to run away and let someone else do it. That was out of the question, I was an only child and it fell to me to do, a duty. I would thus do it.

The same priest who'd officiated at Mum's funeral would do the Daddy's, the undertaker had arranged that. He, the undertaker, was a nice man who called by during the afternoon and he took several jobs on board, like organising flowers and a notice in the local paper.

"I remember your dad, he kept on about how his son was messing things up by not helping him, yet you say you're an only child. Have I mis-remembered things?"

Simon was about to answer when I stopped him. "No Mr James, you are quite right, his son did mess things up, he turned into a woman."

"You're joking?"

"Sadly, I'm not."

"You were never a boy, let alone a man," said Mr James shaking his head. "No, I can't believe that."

"Okay, you must have misremembered then."

"Yes, that's much more likely."

"Bless you, Mr James."

"That's okay, Miss Watts, soon to be Mrs Cameron, eh?"

"Yes, I am."

"No you're not," said Simon, "Tell the truth Cathy."

"Okay, It's going to be Lady Cameron, Simon is from a titled family."

"Gosh!" said our undertaker without any affectation. "Well congratulations anyway. If this isn't the wrong place to say it, I hope you'll both be very happy."

We thanked him and he went on his way.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow?" asked Simon.

"If it's not too much trouble, I want to go to the zoo, the Clifton Suspension Bridge and the Great Britain."

"Why?"

"Because my Daddy took me there when I was a kid and I'd like to go there again as his daughter, see what I feel, and maybe say goodbye to some memories."

"Okay, now go and get yourself tidied up, because I'm taking you to dinner. Oh I need to buy some shirts tomorrow."

"If you don't mind what you're wearing, we could grab a couple in Tesco or Asda, plus some undies and things if you like."

"Okay, don't see the point of spending a fortune."

"If we hurry, Marks and Sparks will be open, too, so you can get some quality there. It isn't Savile Row but ..."

"M&S is okay, so come on, get ready." So that's what we did and after filling the boot of the car with underpants and socks, we went to a pub and had dinner.

"So who is going to give you away when we get married?" asked Simon over a glass of wine.

"I thought I'd ask Tom. What do you think?"

"I think he'd be overjoyed to act in loco parentis for you."

"Yeah, I thought it was a good idea too. Now all we need is my gender recognition, which has another year to run before I can apply, according to their website."

"Want me to see if we can pull some strings?"

"No, Simon, I'll do this by the rules or not at all."

"Oh, okay, I only offered."

"I know and I appreciate it, but this is legal stuff and I don't want to upset the powers that be. Besides I've had enough of registrars for now."

"Okay, now who's driving back?" he asked, indicating the wine bottle.