Jenny's mother invites (well dragoons is closer) Darlene and Jenny to a quilting weekend with her church group. While Darlene is an accomplished crossdresser, the idea of spending an entire weekend enfemme with strangers is daunting... and inviting!

Darlene Goes Quilting

By Ricky

The evening was almost over. Jenny and I were just sort of hanging out at her place, pretending to watch TV while we really just wanted to touch each other. Not much conversation, in the months we had been seeing each other we had started to run out of new stories. Not that we needed to be talking, it just felt good to be together. I was trying to overcome my lethargy enough to get up and go home, but not working too hard at it, when the phone rang.

"Hello? Oh, Hi, mom."

Another call from mom, not a big surprise. I wouldn't go so far as to call her mother overbearing, but she did have a way of planning Jenny's life for her. Sometimes this was fun, like the time she dragooned me and Jenny into helping at a church sale. Other times it could be deadly, like the afternoon I spent listening to endless tips on how create the perfect garden. Not even being able to wear a flowing sundress and ridiculous floppy hat to that event made that one worthwhile. I would have never believed I would regret wearing a bra, but that day it itched abominably and my falsies felt like lumps of sodden clay in the cups. Aargh — A gardening allusion. Help!

"I'll have to ask Darlene when I see her, that sounds like it might be fun."

Uh-oh. What had I missed with my daydreaming? For some reason Jenny's mom had taken a shine to Darlene. I don't know why, but I got a kick out of it. I'm pretty sure she hasn't twigged to my normal identity as Don. One of these days I was going to have to contrive a way to meet her in my normal personality just to see what will happen.

"I'm sure I can talk her into bringing her pickup, it sounds like we're going to need it. There ought to be plenty of room in the bed."

Whoa, I must really be tired, I was daydreaming again. What was Jenny getting us into here?

"Let me check my calendar, mom." She reached for her purse and extracted the Daytimer. "Sure thing, I have the whole weekend free. I'm pretty sure Darlene would be interested."

She held out the book and pointed to the weekend with a quizzical look. What was I supposed to do? I hadn't the faintest idea what I was being asked. Well, life is an adventure, I shook my head yes and was rewarded with one of her radiant smiles.

"Mother, I can choose my own wardrobe without Darlene to help me! You're just going to have to get used to me the way I am."

I grinned at Jenny. When I go out as Darlene I try to look the part the best I can. Naturally a crossdresser will choose more feminine clothing than most natural women. After all, what's the point to getting dressed up if you can't wear something pretty? Naturally, the few times I had met her mother I had put some extra effort into my feminine appearance and Jenny had spent more time than usual with makeup and such as well. How many crossdressers can say they are held up as role models for a casually inclined daughter?

"Great, E-mail me the address and Darlene and I will pick it up on the way. This is going to be fun! I love you, mom, see you this weekend."

She hung up.

"Well, lover, think Darlene is up to a weekend retreat with the ladies of the quilting circle? I know you sew with a machine, I hope you're just as good with your hands."

She shivered as I caressed her breast.

"With a needle in them, you silly man! I know you are good with them like that! I love you but go home, I need some sleep and I won't sleep if you keep that up."

So I got up and went. I paused at the door to ask "If we're going to be hand sewing, why do we need my pickup?"

"To move the quilting frames to the camp. Weren't you listening?"

---

In the months since I met Jenny I have spent more time in churches than I have in my entire previous life. Not that she's a bible thumper, but her mother is a Church Lady and Jenny holds family very dear. Me, I just kind of ignore God, if she exists, and he does the same for me. I hadn't been in a temple or church or mosque since my teens, when I was trying to figure out this religion stuff. There is a quote from H. L. Mencken I'm found of in this regard.

"We must respect the other fellow's religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart."

Until that memorable morning Jenny dragged me to church, that is. That was the weekend we met and she had me at a disadvantage. I was flying high with the thrill of finding a woman who actually seemed to like my dressing up. I hadn't really woken up when she coaxed me into going to church with her either. Spending an hour in a pew was a piece of cake, after all everyone's attention is focused on the minister, not on me. Even hanging around on the edges of a couple of church functions wasn't a real problem, but how was I going to cope with an entire weekend with all those Church Ladies? Oh, you may have noticed the question was 'how', not 'if'. Do you really think I could ignore the challenge?

The next morning I spent as much time musing on what I would wear as I did doing my job. Sometime around coffee break, a time bomb went off in my head. I recalled the words 'retreat' and 'camp'. Surely we wouldn't be staying in tents, not a bunch of dignified church ladies? What about toilets and showers? What had I gotten myself into? I called Jenny at work in a bit of a panic.

"Ah, Jenny, could you tell me a little more about this retreat business? I'm kind of wondering about the facilities there. I think if your mother's friends saw me shaving they might get a bit excited."

I love hearing her laugh under most circumstances, but it didn't ease my mind right then.

"Sorry, I was imagining you in a communal shower with mom and Aunt Betty. Now that would be something to see."

Just what I needed, complete reassurance.

"So what does your Aunt Betty look like? I realize beautiful women run in your family and I like looking at you in the shower. Just how close is your family?

"Not that close, and there's only one person in this family you're going to shower with! Don't worry, it's a very civilized camp, after all these are Unitarians. We have a cabin of our own, complete with bathroom. Your 'special needs' are all provided for. Besides, I'm looking forward to some nice, torrid sex while the rest of the group placidly sleeps in sisterly comradeship. I hope spending all day dressed up is going to get you very excited. Want to practice a little tonight?"

Whew. That's one part relief and one part anticipation all rolled into one word.

"Just how close together are these cabins?"

"I don't really know. Maybe 10 or 15 feet. Why?"

"Only 10 feet? I'm afraid you're far too loud for torrid sex at only 10 feet. Perhaps you would settle for simply 'superlative'. I have an idea, we could try a little bondage. With a gag we might reach 'torrid' and not disturb the neighbors."

"What do you mean I'm too loud?"

"Well, It wasn't me that my cat was singing harmony to last week. I remain demure and ladylike at all times, even when I'm…. Pardon me, that wouldn't be properly feminine to finish that thought.

"Tonight, lover, wait until tonight!"

"Meet me at my place after work, I need a wardrobe consultant."

***

I put a lot of effort into selecting my wardrobe for the weekend. While I have passed in public many times, I had never tried to maintain the illusion for a weekend in close proximity to a whole crowd of strangers. It was getting on to fall so warmth was a priority, and since I wasn't about to wear a corset or cincher all weekend, bulky clothes were in order. They had to be fairly dressy or my necessarily heavy makeup would be out of place. They had to be casual enough not to be out of place at a campground. Don't forget a high neck to hide the Adam's apple. Sometimes it's so hard to be a girl.

When I got home I practically threw off my work clothes. I shaved quickly, but didn't bother with makeup. Jenny had agreed it wasn't really necessary if we were not going out. (See why I'm crazy about her?) I and delved into the closet, stopping only to select a bra and drop my forms into it. Running through the closet in my undies always feels so feminine, like a scene out of a movie. I selected a soft, muted red turtleneck, red plaid flannel jumper and plaid socks that almost matched. A pair of sneakers, simple red stones in my ears and a wig on my head completed the outfit.

I was just putting the roast in the oven when I heard her key on the lock. We embraced when she entered the kitchen. Her hands, still cool from the weather outside, slid over my back to settle on my bottom as she returned my kiss. I struck a pose and then spun around.

"Do you think this will be suitable for a weekend in the woods with the ladies?"

"You're wearing socks?" She lifted my jumper to check. "I thought that was against the crossdressers code or something. I think you have captured the mood precisely. And you're not wearing panties, which meets my dress code for the evening."

She sat down on the kitchen chair and made a show of removing her pants, rolling down her knee-highs and teasing off her panties. It appeared the piece of meat in the oven was not the only one getting hot in the kitchen. She languidly spread her legs.

"Care for an appetizer?"

***

Having finished dessert before the main course, I was once again able to concentrate on the outside world. I noticed the aroma of the roast had filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of our lovemaking. My cat Jake decided these two noisy humans were done with whatever they were doing and came over to investigate. He started sniffing at the drops on the floor, but Jenny shooed him away and cleaned them up.

"So, my timid and demure love, do you really think you could avoid informing the entire campground of our activities? I was only getting started just now, reaching 'torrid' would take at least another hour, you know."

She threw a towel at me, but I ducked. I occupied myself with putting dinner together while she showered and returned in the bathrobe she kept in my room. I plied her with questions about the coming weekend between bites. They were planning a marathon weekend of quilting, the end result being three quilts for (you guessed it) another fundraiser. I was getting the idea that these folks spent as much time flogging for money as they did praying. Not that I haven't participated in the odd bake sale in my life, but if Jenny's mother were typical how did they find time to worship? Ah, well, such metaphysical questions were part of the reason I seldom darken the door of a church.

Anyway, the plan was to pick up the three quilting frames from their owners on Friday night and drive to the camp. After a dawn prayer service (Dawn! I had to have my face on before the sun rose?) and breakfast we would break into groups and start production. Some would cut, some would assemble, some would sew; a well choreographed dance with a well rehearsed troupe. Novices such as me and Jenny would flutter about the edges and learn how to do the work. Directing it all would be the indomitable Mrs. McCarthy. Mamma Charlene had waxed positively ecstatic concerning the woman's experience, innate ability to design heirloom quilts, organizational abilities and endless drive. This at 85 if she's a day, no less.

I finally lured Jenny to the bedroom to help pick out my wardrobe for the weekend. I think I had a bit of stage fright; this would be quite a trick if I could pull it off. I felt like a model as I tried on various combinations until we settled on three outfits. Friday would be my present turtleneck and jumper, Saturday would be a cable knit Irish sweater with my tan woolen skirt. Sunday was dress up day - a high necked, long sleeved white blouse with lots of ruffles, lacy bra to show through in the right places, blazer and skirt in a soft rust color. In the approved feminine manor of packing for a weekend we included two emergency outfits (another turtleneck and jumper combination and casual sweatshirt and skirt just in case). We couldn't decide on jewelry and other accessories, so we put half of what I owned in a small suitcase to use when the time seemed right.

It was getting very late by the time we finished, and I convinced Jenny to spend the night with me. To my mild disappointment we both had to get up the next morning, all we did is sleep.

Friday morning dawned cool and clear. I rose and was racked with pain, headache, fever, vomiting, I couldn't leave the bathroom, or at least that's what I told my boss. You didn't think I was actually going to go to work on Friday, rush home, put on my face and make the most important appearance of my life, did you? After that phone call I returned to bed and caught up on my beauty sleep.

Friday noon rose just as cool and clear as the dawn, and true to my word I didn't leave the bathroom. With coffee and a bagel strategically beside the tub I slid beneath the bubbles and luxuriated to emerge exfoliated, moisturized pasteurized, homogenized and feeling wonderful. I put on the bra Jenny had helped me buy the weekend we met, dropped in my forms, slipped on the matching panties, then donned my robe and fuzzy slippers. I wandered around and packed my suitcases, tossing Jake off the bed repeatedly and doing my best to keep the clothes hair free as I packed them.

I investigated quilting on the internet so I wouldn't come off as a complete novice and started a book I had been putting off forever. When the alarm went off at four I jumped, it was a good book and I almost didn't want to stop reading. I shaved and did my makeup so I was ready at five when Jenny got home. I left Jake extra food and water, threw our suitcases in the pickup and the adventure started at last.

While I have always been a feminist, I had never been on the receiving end of the unconscious macho posturing that so annoys women. I tried hard not to behave that way myself, but theoretical disapproval is a far cry from remaining civil when coping with a macho jerk. We arrived at the Gina's place to pick up the first quilting frame and I backed the pickup into the driveway.

If you've never seen a quilting frame (I admit I hadn't before then), they are a pretty substantial piece of furniture. This one was about 8 feet long and 3 feet wide. It was made of polished hardwood and heavily constructed, not something you just pick up and carry off with one hand. We were trying to figure out how to load it into the truck without loosing my ladylike demeanor when Gina's husband joined us.

"Hi, little ladies." Little? The bugger must be blind! "Off to your little gossip fest in the country, are you? I bet you're just taking this thing so you have an excuse to chitchat with each other all weekend while I have to work. Now you ladies don't you worry about a thing. I'll handle this."

He picked it up and swung it in the bed of the pickup, muscles bulging. I guess he meant well, but his condescending manor was so irritating I had to bite my tongue. I was fuming as we drove off.

"Jenny, if I ever act like that I want you to give me a good, swift kick."

"Honey, if you ever pulled that shit on me that kick would land square in your balls!"

I was very glad I was wearing a dress and acting like a lady.

The other two frames went without incident, Jenny and I lifting them into the truck bed in a more conventional manor. I did learn that climbing into a pickup bed in a dress is not the easiest thing to do, but it can be done. When we arrived at the camp there were plenty of hands to help and the frames were soon installed in the large common room, where they joined several piles of fabric and a dozen sewing machines.

I made it through the round of hugs and introductions unscathed, hoping I would remember at least a couple of the names that had been flung my way. Apparently the evening had been set aside for fellowship, which is what Christians seem to call standing around and talking with occasional raids on the goodie table. Being an outsider in more ways than one I mostly kept my mouth shut and listened.

About nine I pleaded exhaustion and went to our cabin. While we really weren't all that tired, the both of us were interested in that torrid sex somebody had promised the other. Nobody outside the cabin (or inside it for that matter) complained that night so I don't know if we made it to torrid or not.

----

The morning came, as it resolutely continues to do despite my urgent pleading. I pried open my gummy eyes to stare blearily into her freshly washed face, towel wrapped around her hair and beads of water still glistening on her skin.

"God can wait for a civilized hour to talk to me. Go talk to His son by yourself."

I got The Look, and realized I needed to locate my supply of tact before opening my mouth in the morning.

"Sorry, that wasn't very nice. OK, I'm getting up, but I would really rather not have to go to the service. I'll join you when it's over, please."

It was a good thing this wasn't the first time she had been around as I woke up or I might have been in big trouble. I escaped with only a head tussling as she left, leaving me to slowly climb up the abyss of slumber and reach the normal plane of the world at my own rate. I showered, shaved and put on my face, glad of the warm sweater in the fall chill when I finally left the cabin.

Entering the common room I was overcome with the divine scent of coffee perking, bacon frying and something fragrant baking. Joining the line we filled our plates and found a place to sit. I had hardly gotten the cream in my coffee when Jenny's mother sat across the table from us.

"Good morning, darlings! Isn't it a lovely day outside? Darlene, I just love you sweater, it flatters you so. You always dress so well."

Mom was wound up this morning, wasn't she? I couldn't help but be flattered and amused at the same time.

"Good morning, Charlene, it's nice to see you again. I'm glad you haven't seen me when I'm just hanging around the house. You would hardly recognize me." Time to change the subject! "Jenny has told me so much about your quilting circle that I'm very flattered to be invited. I've never quilted before, but I do sew a bit."

The conversation continued in the same vein until the redoubtable Mrs. McCarthy rose and began to deploy her forces like a General before a battle. There were some 30 women of all ages present. Diagrams of the three quilts were taped to the walls, tables were shoved together to form large working surfaces, the sewing machines were set up in a tangle of extension cords and outlet strips that would give an electrical inspector nightmares.

I wasn't really prepared for the passion these women put into quilting. Let me tell you, they were enthusiastic! There were photo albums of their work all over the place, they eagerly showed me the pictures they kept in their purse, fawning over them like their children or grandchildren. They tried to acquaint me with the multiplicity of quilting designs, the history of quilting and just how much fun it was. Did you know there are actually bed & breakfast quilting shops? Actually, I did because of my quick search of the web, but I had no idea people would speak of them in the hushed tones usually reserved for some sacred site of antiquity.

As I said, we were making three quilts. The first was a patchwork, the kind I would have thought of before my education. This is a series of triangles and squares from many different fabrics sewn together in a grid pattern. The blocks were about 8 inches on a side and it didn't take too many to fill up the quilt.

The next was called the Around the World pattern, which is an overall diamond pattern of small squares sequencing through a rainbow of hues. Ours used squares about 2 inches across, so there was a lot of cutting and sewing for this one.

The hardest was called the Drunkard's Path. I would assume that M. C. Escher had this type of quilt on his bed because endlessly repeating odd shapes that seemed to circle around one another. If my description isn't clear just do a quick web search and you will be amazed at how many beautiful quilts there are.

As a novice, I was assigned to the group cutting the fabric. This turned out to be a high tech operation. I was handed a rotary cutter (think of a razor sharp pizza cutter), a long, clear plastic ruler with a slot down the middle and seated before a grid. The work was simple enough. Place the fabric on the grid, align the ruler and slice out a square of fabric. I spent a pleasant morning slicing fabric with my rotary cutter while chatting with Jenny and the other women.

I was surprised at how different it was to be accepted as part of a group of women. The few times I had been in a gathering of men there was an unspoken air of competition, one-upmanship was the order of the hour. Here we just talked and worked, occasionally gossiping about someone I didn't know. Not that they didn't boast of the quilts they had made with great pride, but it wasn't what I would call a competition.

It was a wonderful, homey experience. As far as I could tell not a one of them found me unusual enough to comment on. No questioning glances, no quizzical pauses, no interest in my unusually low speaking voice, just a casual acceptance. I was happily slicing away when Jean came over and started to watch me. I had developed a nice rhythm, layering the scraps, lining them up on the grid and running the cutter along the hole in the ruler to produce perfect triangles.

"How do you do that so easily, Darlene? Every time I try to cut more than one piece at a time I always mess it up. You make it look so easy!"

"I don't know how I do it. I suppose being a precision machinist has makes me pretty good with my hands."

I caught Jenny's grin at the double meaning of that one.

"You're a machinist, Darlene? How did you ever get into a job like that?"

"Well, I was always interested in how things work. When I had the opportunity to be part of an apprenticeship program I took it and things just happened from there. I guess you could say I'm not your ordinary kind of girl."

Jenny started to make strangling sounds behind me.

"Jenny darling," I said solicitously, "it sounds like you need something to drink. It's pretty close to lunch time, so let's be first in line, shall we?"

We participated in another dance with the tables before we joined the line at the window of the kitchen. As we approached the window I noticed a teenage girl was looking at me rather closely. Oops, things had been going so well. I simply smiled at her and hoped her youthful crossdressing detector was out of commission for the day. Jenny smiled to the girl and introduced us.

"Darlene, this is Kathy, my Aunt Betty's daughter. I think I've told you about Aunt Betty before, haven't I?"

"She's the one who likes showers, isn't she?"

Jenny has sharp elbows, but it was worth the pain to say that. I continued in my most feminine voice.

"Pleased to meet you, Kathy." It didn't seem to help as her eyebrows rose noticeably. "The lunch smells wonderful! What do you have for us today?"

Misdirection, that staple of magicians and crooks. Get her mind on something else and hope for the best!

When lunch was done the tables were again rearranged, this time several sheets of sanded and varnished plywood were placed on top of them to form a large working surface. While the sewn patchwork was having it's seams ironed down they placed a large sheet of white material on the wood and smoothed down. On top of this was placed a layer of a thick, airy substance — the quilting. Over this came the freshly ironed patchwork. When all was properly positioned and smoothed, several women started at the center and pinned the sandwich together.

At last we were ready for the quilting frames Jenny and I had lugged up here. The pinned quilt was placed on the frame and four of the women sat down side by side and started to work. They deftly cut off a couple of feet of quilting thread, slid it into a needle and began to make tiny, meticulous stitches from the center of the quilt outward. It was almost hypnotic to watch them as the needle was pressed through the taut fabric in the quilting frame, caught underneath and pushed upward again in just the proper position. This was a skill that must have taken years of practice, perfectly placing each tiny stitch in the queen size quilt.

I wasn't quite ready for the quilting, but I took my turn at the sewing machines, connecting the small blocks of colored fabric into bigger blocks and then finally sewing the bigger blocks into a complete quilt cover. This took a great deal of coordination to keep the pieces in the proper place, and Mrs. McCarthy seemed to be everywhere assuring all went smoothly.

We traded off duty at the machines frequently so no one of us got too tired or overworked, and by mid afternoon the Around the World quilt was being pressed and assembled. As the pinning crew started their work Jenny and I took the opportunity to take a break and returned to the cabin.

If there is a downside to spending a weekend publicly enfemme it was the need to freshen up my shave. I took off my wig, careful of my makeup I skinned down to my undies and proceeded to fill up the wastebasket with gooey paper towels I had brought for the occasion. I lathered up and removed my stubble, musing on the joys of electrolysis. As I had neglected to close the bathroom door Jenny watched the whole process, looking up from her book every once in a while and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Since we had an hour or so before dinner I joined her on the bed to let my face dry. She raised her eyes from the book and said "Just a minute, let me finish the chapter" and went back to her reading. I snuggled in beside her and opened the book I had started that afternoon.

How could life get much better than this. A good book, a warm woman, a soft bed and no pressure to get anything done. We lay side by side reading for some time, her body pressed against mine. Occasionally she would move her hips and murmur something wordless as she turned the page. I absently caressed her thigh as I read, enjoying the companionship. Eventually she rolled over on her side, snuggling her delightful ass against me. When I reached a stopping place I shifted the book into one hand and melded myself against her back.

In the book the heroine was seducing the hero, and writing was getting nicely erotic. I felt myself starting to react, my manhood pressing against Jenny's lovely ass. She noticed too, and reached out to give me a stroke or two. Abandoning the book for the moment I shifted a bit and entered her and thrust until I was hard.

When I stopped moving she opened her book with a sigh. "Let me finish this chapter, OK?"

Whenever one of us came to a stopping place in our book we took time to move around long enough to keep me hard inside her, then went back to reading. Since our chapters didn't seem to match each other we kept this up for quite some time. It may sound funny, but it is a real pleasure to combine reading and lovemaking like this.

Eventually the lovemaking starts to demand more attention than the words on the page, so I was just about to get down to some serious sex when there was a knock at the door. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I unconsciously rolled over to look at the door.

"Jenny, are you decent?"

The door opened and in stepped Jenny's mother.

Silence.
 

I think now would be an appropriate time to examine the subject of silence. Many others have done so before me and I turn to them for help.

"Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words?" - Marcel Marceau

"A properly kept silence is a beautiful thing; it is nothing less than the father of very wise thoughts." - Diodicus

"It is as important to cultivate your silence power as it is your word power." - William James

"Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise." - Proverbs 17:28

"There is no point in speaking unless you can improve upon the silence." - Annon.

I kept my mouth shut.
 

It wasn't a complete silence, you know. Outside a cheerfully ignorant bird sang a merry tune to his love, unaware of the scene inside the cabin below him. The screen door gave a rattle as it bounced closed behind Jenny's mother. Jenny produced an aborted squeak that sounded much like a mouse gargling. I contributed nothing, my breath having left my body. The silence, a palpable entity, continued to grow for some seconds, then fled as Jenny found her voice.

"Close the door and keep the heat in, mother. I suppose you had better sit down before you fall over.

The poor, confused and embarrassed woman shut the door and sat down. She sat with hands in her lap, her face was very pale

"I suppose I had better introduce you to my friend Don. You've met before I believe, even if you didn't know it. Don, this is my mother Charlene."

I wondered how Miss Manors would handle this? I don't suppose she has ever been asked about the etiquette of meeting your lover's mother when you are dressed only in a bra and skirt. Should I rise and coolly shake her hand? Was the quintessential feminine gesture of covering my artificial breasts in order here? How about running to the bathroom and being violently ill?

What I did was get up and put on my sweater and skirt.

"Hello, Charlene." I said, deliberately in my normal voice. "I had hoped we would meet someday, but I didn't expect it to be would be this sudden. I think we're both pretty well embarrassed right now, but I really hope we can get to know each other under better circumstances."

Her color was returning to normal and she finally found her voice.

Oh, my. Jenny, I don't know what to say." She looked at me. "Don? Your name is Don?"

I nodded and the silence returned. Charlene shook her head, squared her shoulders and sat up.

"Hello, Don. Oh, my — that seems wholly inadequate. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I can't really say 'pleased to meet you' quite yet. Well, my daughter's judgment of people has always proved sound, but I think I'm going to need some time to get used to this, darlings."

Jenny scrambled from the bed and hugged her mother.

"Oh, mom, I love you."

This time the silence was much more comfortable.

"Charlene, I know you have a million questions running around your brain, so I would like to answer some of them if I could. The first one is always 'Are you Gay?', but under the circumstances I think you already have the answer. I'll leave it to Jenny to share any of the details she wants to later.

"The second one is usually 'Do you want to have surgery and become a woman?' The answer to that one is no, I'm perfectly happy to me a man most of the time, but I have an overpowering need to dress as a woman as well. The next one us usually 'why do you do it?' and that one is harder to answer."

Was I talking too much? Probably, but what would you do under the circumstances? Guiding the conversation (well, monolog) toward a subject I knew cold helped give us all time to recover.

"I've been wondering about that for as long as I can remember. If you're interested sometime I'll loan you some stuff from my library. Whole books have been written as to why men want to wear women's clothes; there are several magazines on the subject and big conventions of crossdressers. I even spent a couple of years in therapy to figure out why I want to do this. You would think I'd have a clear and simple answer, but I don't. For me, all I can say is that it feels so good I could never stop dressing up. I know you don't understand, hell I don't understand, but I just hope you will give us some time before you do anything drastic."

Charlene had been nervously fiddling with her hands as I spoke. When I finished she glanced at her watch and started.

"It's late, I have to get back. Darlene, from the day I met you I felt you were a wonderful friend for my daughter. I hope that when I get to know Don I'll have the same opinion. Now get your face put back on and come to dinner."

She rose and hugged Jenny again. She extended her hand and wordlessly clasped mine, then went out the door. I stood up and held Jenny very tightly, relief flooding over me as we supported each other.

"I love you, Jenny. I haven't said it much, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I love you, too. Both of you."

The silence this time was very pleasant, but after a moment it was broken as my lady started to chuckle.

"I'm glad someone can find a funny side to this, but I'll be damned if I know what you're laughing at!"

"That's because you didn't grow up with my mother. From the time we were old enough to toddle she always got furious if we just wandered into her bedroom without asking."

***

I was more than a little bit nervous we returned to the common hall. The Around the World quilt had been laid out and the last of the pins were being inserted when we entered. It was a beautiful thing, small squares of subtly altering color forming a larger diamond pattern, As the tables were again arranged for eating Jenny and I joined the line and were served by her sharp eyed cousin. Well, with one major exception I had made it through the weekend without being read, but getting caught twice in an hour seemed to be a bit excessive. Fortunately, nothing was said as we went to the tables to eat and talk quilting.

All through dinner the quilters had been stitching at their frames, when one got hungry she was soon replaced by another with barely a pause in the up and down motion of the needles. I took another turn sewing the odd shaped patches of the Drunkard's Path, then rested. With two quilts on the frames there was less work to do and people wandered off or sat in groups and talked. Late in the evening the last quilt was assembled and put on the frame. To me it looked like multicolored birds chasing each other. I screwed up my courage and took a turn at the actual hand quilting. I couldn't match the pace of my more experienced sisters, but with patience I was able to add my line of stitches to the finished product. Somewhere around midnight Jenny and I were yawning and starting to fade. Mrs. McCarthy was dozing in her chair and it looked like the hard core types were going to be at it come the dawn, so we called it a night.

For the second time that day I removed my makeup. A turn in the shower and I joined my lady in bed. After having her mother walk in on us earlier, there was no consideration of anything approaching torrid sex that night, just the warm and quiet feeling of holding your lover close until sleep finally came.

---

To my infinite relief we crawled out of bed well after the sun had risen; no sunrise service for either of us today, thank you. I started the familiar but time consuming ritual of transformation while Jenny showered. I put on my lacy bra, filled the cups and buttoned up the frilly blouse. Standing before the mirror I tucked in the blouse and adjusted the skirt. The lace of my bra showed clearly through the thin fabric. Suddenly I realized that Jenny's mom would be seeing me in this outfit in only minutes. She knew I was a man, she had to know I was sleeping with her daughter. Maybe I should settle for the emergency sweatshirt and play it safe. I started to unbutton the blouse.

"Don't you dare, Darlene. I picked out that outfit for you and you are going to wear it no matter what my mother may think of it. She's just going to have to get used to you no mater what you're wearing because I have no intentions of giving you up."

Do all natural women read minds? I rebuttoned the blouse, put on the blazer and we made it to the common hall barely in time for breakfast. No problem with my too curious young lady this time, we served ourselves from the leftovers and sat down.

"Hi, mom"

"Good morning, Charlene." I chorused.

Well — we had to face her sometime, didn't we?

"Good morning Jenny. You're looking well this morning, Darlene. I just love your outfit, it suits you so well, dear. It looks like it won't be long until our first quilt is finished."

Whew, I hadn't been struck by lightning, revealed or even embarrassed! A glance showed that the trailing edge of the quilt was showing in the frame.

"Jenny, Betty called and she has a problem with her car. Do you think you and Darlene could give Kathy a ride home. You'll be practically next door when you take the James' frame back to them."

If you've watched the scene in Fiddler on the Roof where Tevye talks to God about the troubles he has been handed, you have a pretty good idea of what I was feeling just then. I don't want to be superstitious, but for a moment I did wonder if God, once he noticed me in proximity to a church, had decided I was a worthy successor to Job. I had survived the revelation of Charlene, but how was I going to ride home next to that cute but suspicious little girl without being found out?

Jenny and I exchanged glances and with a resigned sigh I acquiesced.

"Of course, Charlene, we'd be happy to help."

I took my turn stitching throughout the morning and by lunch the second quilt was completed. The place was starting to thin out by now as the workload decreased. The sewing machines were loaded into cars, the piles of fabric were bagged for future use and an unaccustomed quiet reigned after the bustle of the previous day. I took my turn in the kitchen washing up. As I put on an apron to help wash up I heard a cheery voice.

"Oh goody! Someone to help. You want to wash or dry?"

It was my teenage nemesis. Was this how some people experienced sudden conversions? I again felt like talking to God. I had a few questions for Him.

"Oh, hello Kathy, I'll take the drying if you don't mind. It looks like you have gotten stuck on permanent kitchen duty this weekend."

"Yeah, but I don't mind — I really don't like sewing." She swirled a dish around in the soapy water and handed it to me. "My mom makes me come to these things, I think she hopes something will rub off and make me more of a lady. Not much chance of that, but it's easier than fighting with her."

She had been wearing the unofficial uniform of the rebellious young all weekend. Faded, torn bluejeans, tight T-shirt that emphasized her breasts and left her navel bare and several ear rings. Some sort of tattoo peeked out of the neckline on her back. She had to work hard at the tough look, however, it didn't come naturally.

"Well, you're safe with me, I promise you I am the least ladylike person in the camp."

"Yeah — I figured." She handed me another dish to dry. "That's 'cause you're a guy, right?"

I suppose it was inevitable.

"Yeah, I'm a guy. I must say you don't seem very excited about it."

"Nah — my mom's a shrink and my dad's a social worker. A guy in a dress isn't all that strange, at least for me. You know, you don't look half bad."

"Thanks, Kathy. I was pretty sure you were going to figure it out. Girls your age seem to have a way of seeing through a crossdresser. I was really scared you would scream or call the police or something."

"Damn! I almost wished I had. Wouldn't that have flipped out mom and Aunt Charlene!" She paused and a question crossed her face. "Are you going to tell her?"

I winced. "I don't think I have to tell her anything. She walked in on me and your Aunt yesterday."

"Cool! You weren't screwing, were you?"

What was that line about the innocence of youth? This one was about as innocent as a drill sergeant, and just as tactful.

"Uh — you ask too many questions."

"Cool! You were screwing!" She grinned from ear to ear. "Jeez — what a riot if any of these old biddies figured it out. Hey — don't worry, I'm not telling!"

If I ever have kids how am I going to survive them when they get to be teens?

We finished the dishes and returned to the main part of the hall just in time to see the edging go around the second quilt. Since we were not really needed Jenny and I took a walk in the woods, where I filled her in on my conversation with her young cousin. We packed our bags, loaded two of the frames into the truck and killed time until the last one was free. About four o'clock there was a cheer and the last quilt was completely stitched. We didn't wait for the binding to be completed but loaded the frame and headed for home.

Kathy kept up a non-stop string of questions on the way back, which I tried to answer honestly. She was utterly without guile and hugely interested. How I did learn to use makeup, did I really like wearing a bra, a thousand other details. Jenny firmly turned the subject aside when our sex life arose, but we had agreed on our walk that anything else was fair game. With the uncomplicated reasoning of youth she soon asked one question Jenny and I had been dancing around for some time.

"So how come you two aren't getting married, Aunt Jenny?"

"I haven't been asked."

We were back to silence again as the truck bumped along the highway. I couldn't imagine a less romantic setting for a proposal, but at that moment my feelings crystallized.

"I love you Jenny. Will you please marry me?"

"Yes." She paused. "Yes I'll marry you." She spoke quietly, but fiercely. "I love you very much."

I had to slow down, it's hard to steer when you eyes mist over.

"Wow — way cool!" This from Kathy, of course. "Can I be a bridesmaid? Please?"

"You'll have to wear a dress, you know." Jenny replied. "I think everyone at our wedding will be wearing dresses."

After that, the rest of the trip seemed rather mundane. We dropped off the frames (the jerk wasn't around this time) and took Kathy home. She jumped out of the truck and invited us in. I suppose I had to meet Aunt Betty sometime, so what if I was read one more time today? I was in love! I was going to get married! I didn't care at all.

With Kathy's shout of "Hey — MOM" ringing down the hallway we sat in the living room and waited. Footsteps soon approached and Aunt Betty made her appearance. She stopped short when she saw me, amazement on her face.

"Darlene? Is that you?"

OK God. I. Give. Up. You win, already.

"Dr. Masley!"

Silence reigned, confusion was everywhere.

"Doctor, I find myself very happy that you are no longer my therapist. Since I'm about to marry your niece it would be awfully hard to continue a professional relationship. Can I call you Aunt Betty?"