With the wedding approaching, the reality that a two bride ceremony will let the entire world know Don and Darlene are the same person. What do you do? Gather your friends and family and celebrate!

Darlene's Wedding

By Ricky
 

Don
Ah the lunchroom. The camaraderie, the pleasant conversation, the sophisticated repartee, the ever present smell of cutting fluid and hot metal that pervades any machine shop. And don't forget the misogyny, profanity, and homophobia.

Really, it's not that bad, at least I don't have to put up with the smokers since the county banned smoking indoors. Actually, I kind of like the ambience of the lunchroom most of the time. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those times. About halfway through the lunch break, Cliff spotted an item about how gays can now be legally married in Canada and he was holding forth with a loud, incoherent, full throttle diatribe.

Now most days I would have tuned him out. Cliff is an asshole, but even assholes can be good machinists. The latest problem I had been having with Cliff was getting him to accept the new technology the company was adopting for controlling the big machines. I sometimes think it takes an act of the very God Cliff was invoking to convince him that hitting a part with a hammer was preferable to beating on it with his thick skull. Whenever anything changed, his comments usually started with "If God had intended men to…"

I had spent most of the morning converting his machine to the new programming language the company had adopted, and it hadn't been easy. Sometimes I wish I had remained a simple machinist and let someone else have the headaches, but I got along very well with computers and had gradually become the "CNC maven" for the company. That's Computer Numerical Control for those of you who care; that's what the computers that run most fabricating machines are called.

So I had spent the last few hours listening to Cliff bitch while I worked on his machine, which makes concentration difficult. My digestion wasn't the best as a result, so when Cliff kept running at the mouth something snapped.

"Jesus, Cliff. What's so fucking bad about having two brides at a wedding? You afraid one of 'em might throw the bouquet at you and you'd have to make an honest woman out of some poor gal? Or would it be an honest man?"

"You can take that bunch of posies and stuff it up your goddam ass, Don. I ain't going to have nothing to do with any fucking fairies who want to…." He was off and running again.

"Christ, Cliff. If you're going to treat those flowers like that, then I just won't ask you to be my maid of honor when I marry Jenny. I'm disappointed; you would have looked so luscious in lavender."

That got the group going and Cliff had a hard time getting a word in edgewise. I have to admit I was taking a chance, but I was still annoyed enough with Cliff that I couldn't resist. One of the best parts of being a crossdresser is when you can say something perfectly outrageous and perfectly true but no one will believe it.

"Hey Don! Can I be the flower girl?"

That was Jimmy, he's about 5'2 and wouldn't outweigh a bag of cement soaking wet. Rather than get defensive about his small stature he makes it into a joke. Actually, he would look pretty cute in one of those frilly white outfits a flower girl would wear. Jimmy and I were pretty good friends at work, but the friendship didn't really leave the plant. If he was one of my "sisters," he had never given so much as a hint.

"Sure Jimmy. You any good at flinging rose petals?"

"He's only good for flinging shit. Just like you, Don." Cliff has a hard time appreciating a joke.

"Jeez, Cliff," chimed in Sammy. "What's it to you if Don wants to get married in a dress? What's got your tits in a wringer?" Sammy is often the "voice of reason" but his tone this time was calculated to keep Cliff going. "Some people like to dress up a bit when they get out of this place with all the oil and crud. Something with a plunging neckline and a long train would be very flattering for you, Don." His face was absolutely straight as he spoke.

"You know, I was really thinking of a Victorian collar and lots of lace. Nice, long puffy sleeves to hide my tattoos, and a bustle. Nobody wears bustles any more and I want to revive the old fashion trend. I bet I could program the new system to make a really fancy bustle, the thing is really flexible. Would you make me a bustle for my wedding dress, Cliff? Please?"

"If he won't I will!"

"Ya know, if we punch a lot of really little holes in that new plastic stock we could make a great veil for your dress, Don."

If it's gonna be Victorian, you're gonna need a corset. We got enough spring steel that we could supply you with the best!"

"What would you know from corsets, Charlie?"

"I know they're damn hard to get off but it's a lot of fun trying. Kinda like opening a birthday present."

"You don't want no birthday present, you want her birthday suit!"

"So this is a problem?"

The guys were really getting into this, and with each suggestion poor Cliff's face suffused with a deeper shade of red. He was approaching indigo when he couldn't take any more.

"What are you, all a bunch of fucking faggot assholes? It ain't goddam natural, you fucking well know he ain't gonna fucking walk down the aisle in no goddam dress!"

"So who's going to stop me if I want to?"

"You think this is funny - don't you, asshole? That broad of yours would kick your sorry butt out of her life the moment you pulled shit like that."

"You wrong my beloved, Cliff. Jenny has very good fashion sense. I never buy a dress without consulting her. She tells me she's found me a wedding dress that suits my natural aura and innate vibrations."

I flatter myself that I do a pretty good Valley Girl impression. The rest of the guys must have thought it was good enough, because they were practically rolling on the floor. I really had Cliff going!

"Jesus, a fucking New Age fucking fairy. Alright, asshole. I got five big ones says there's no way you got the nerve. You and your fucking aura are gonna wear a tuxedo like any man when you get married."

It was at that moment when a sense of complete peace enveloped my mind and body. Ever since my mother remarried I had been debating with myself about a two bride ceremony with Jenny. Jenny was amenable, as were my mother and sister. For that matter, both of our families knew of my crossdressing. Jenny's dad had been hard to convince at first, and maybe it would take a concerted diplomatic effort to convince him we should both wear dresses, but after all, I was marrying a woman who made her living negotiating difficult issues.

The problem was I still had a fair number of friends who had no inkling of Darlene's existence, and I wasn't quite ready to go that public. This was doubly true for the guys I worked with. Trade workers don't tend to liberal attitudes and unquestioning acceptance of alternate lifestyles, an understatement if there ever was one. Now, courtesy of the Canadian court system, I had been handed my deepest desire with the perfect cover story, and it was the biggest homophobe of the bunch that was pressing the idea.

"Okay Clifford, you old dog, you're on. Your generous contribution to our honeymoon will be greatly appreciated. I nominate Jimmy to hold the stakes and all of you are invited to the wedding to judge the winner. If Jenny hasn't kicked my sorry butt by the time our first dance is over then I win."

"Done, asshole. I'll have my stake tomorrow morning."

"Want to sweeten the deal, Cliffie baby?" He hates to be called Cliffie. "If I get your machine done by two o'clock this afternoon, you have to dance with me as soon as I finish that first dance with Jenny. If I lose, you get to dance with Jenny." I somehow forgot to tell him I had already finished the job and just had to button up the last loose ends.

"You just better hope she won't kick your sorry butt after she dances with me. This may be the shortest marriage in history, buddy."

The bell started ringing just at that point, before either one of us could get ourselves in any deeper. Sometimes blind, mechanical rules and regulations are a blessing.
 

Jenny
"Kewel! Utterly kewel!"

There's nothing like the enthusiasm of a teenager, and in this case the teenager was my niece Kathy. The enthusiasm was for the house Don and I had bought. After years of apartment living, with the last few months sharing a place, we decided to buy a house together. Trying to fit two makeup tables and three wardrobes into a standard apartment bedroom just wasn't practical.

I know, the conventional wisdom is to fall in love, get married, buy a house, and then spend your time in the bedroom together, but we started with the bedroom, had worked our way around to the house, and figured the getting married part could wait until summer, since I wanted nice weather for the wedding. As for the love part, it just sort of happened somewhere along the way.

We had found a lovely old home in the city, the beautiful woodwork still unpainted and intact. The electrical and plumbing had been modernized, and with a little work (according to Don, anyway) we could merge two of the bedrooms into one huge master bedroom with closets big enough for me, Don, and Darlene. Somehow I wouldn't consider removing walls and adding a private bathroom to be a 'little' work, but Don assured me that in a couple of weeks he could have it done. My intended was brimming with macho energy to make room for his feminine side. Go figure.

Kathy stopped her impromptu dance as a great crash sounded from above our heads and little bits of dust showered from the ceiling. This was followed by a muffled martial arts yell of "Hai-yah!" and another crash, this one accompanied by many small subsidiary cracks and plops.

"Sounds like Uncle Don is practicing his karate upstairs, Aunt Jenny."

"Probably ramming his thick skull through the plaster to prove he still has testosterone in his bloodstream when he isn't wearing a dress." I headed for the stairs, a beautiful creation of rods and balls holding up a stair rail that simply invited you to slide down its polished length. "Grab your shovel, kid. We get to clean up the mess."

I winced at the pile of plaster on the polished wood of the floors, but was relieved to see it was covered with a layer of protective plastic. The dividing wall between the two bedrooms had been denuded of its plaster, exposing the wooden lath beneath. As we entered, Don swung a huge crowbar and ripped off a section of lath, creating yet more dust in the room. As the wood crackled and split, he noticed us and laid the bar against the wall.

He looked like an alien for some movie, with a bulbous nose protruding between the filters of his dust mask. His heavy breathing through the mask brought Darth Vader to mind. At the moment I was having a hard time picturing this person as the handsome woman I knew Darlene to be, but I suppose if anyone was looking at me at the moment they would have had similar thoughts. Today I was the one doing the crossdressing. Ragged jeans, faded oversized work shirt, thick gloves, and heavy boots were not my usual go-to-meeting clothes, but I had been warned about the mess of construction.

"Hi, Uncle Don! Can I beat on the walls, too? Looks like fun."

Handing her the crowbar, he said, "Go to it, Kathy. There's no more destructive force in this world than a teenager."

I suspect she stuck out her tongue at him, but since we had both prudently donned air masks before entering, I couldn't be sure. While Kathy struck a blow for teenagers everywhere, we hugged awkwardly. Hard to kiss in a mask, for sure.

Despite her enthusiasm, it was clear that Don's experience and larger body was better suited to the job. After a few minutes, she returned the crowbar and we started shoveling debris out the window and into the dumpster below. I was glad of the gloves because the ancient wood lath was rife with splinters. Kathy and I escaped with only a few minor pokes, but poor Don tripped and went down on his butt. He winced as he plucked the offending chunk of wood from his behind. By the time lunchtime rolled around, I had a new appreciation for the construction workers I have spent my life trying to organize. This was hard, sweaty, uncomfortable work to be sure, but there was a certain satisfaction in watching the wall disappear.

I had to laugh whenever my intended bent over, because the red frills of his panties peeked out from his rough work clothing. By that time, I was wishing I could dispense with my bra, because the sweat had thoroughly soaked it, and each time I moved I felt it's clammy embrace on my breasts. The occasional cool breeze from the open window was most welcome. This was one of the times I questioned Don's sanity for wanting to wear a bra when he didn't actually need to.

As I tossed the last piece of wood out the window I was beginning to see how our bedroom would look when it was finished. In one corner of the suddenly larger room the shower, sink, and toilet looked out of place. The new bathroom walls were not yet erected, but I could picture the finished product more clearly now.

After lunch I gained a much greater appreciation of construction work. Tearing things down is easy, putting them up is a lot harder. With Don patiently advising us, Kathy and I helped to build the new walls. I realize that Don could probably have done the work in a fraction of the time it took Kathy and me (certainly with a fraction of the mistakes!), but I was determined to help with turning our new house into a home.

At three PM, the framing was done and we quit for the day; we had an appointment at the bridal shop. We, as in both of us, and we were not going to be very welcome there in our current dusty condition. Don had called it the oldest joke in crossdressing lore, having to wear a dress because of a bet, but I didn't care. My wonderful mate would be able to realize the dream that meant so much to him and that was a very good way to start off a marriage.
 

Don
On the way back home, I couldn't help but notice the stabbing pain in my backside; it was impossible to sit comfortably in the car. By the time we got home, there was no help for it. I had to ask Jenny to take a look because there was no way I could remove them myself. So with red face I made my request, gingerly removing my panties and assuming a most undignified position over the side of our bed, butt high in the air.

She pulled the offending pieces of wood from my rear and then cursed, "Damn, there's still some in there!"

Just what I wanted to hear. With a chuckle she said, "I hope you're into S&M, because I'm going to have to take a needle to your tush." I lay there waiting and heard the refrigerator door open, Jenny getting some ice from the kitchen. She numbed my buttocks with the ice and started her surgery, which I will not describe.

"Up, my love. Rise and attend to your bath so that we may away!"

"Sounds Shakespearean, darling, and I do enjoy shaking my spear at you, but it would be a royal pain in the butt right now. Give me a few minutes and I'll think of a good quote, right now I'm a little distracted."

"Good, that means I can go first."
 

Jenny
Actually, I let Don go first. It takes him more time to make himself beautiful than most ordinary women. The strains of "Camelot" rose above the hot water as my beloved sluiced the dirt off his body, to be replaced by a hummed version of the Wedding March as he shaved while I showered. By the time I got to the bedroom he was wearing white panties and was applying surgical tape across his chest.

"I still wince every time you do that. It's got to be terrible when you take it off!"

"One does not become beautiful without sacrifice, my dear. A proper bride must show just enough cleavage to make those watching her walk down the aisle have a lascivious thought or two." Patting the tape down, he settled a plain white bra into place. "I'll snap you if you snap me."

"Darn, I should have brought the towel with me!" I did up the hooks on his bra. "My, but you're colorless today, how unusual."

"A bride is properly assumed to be virginal despite any evidence to the contrary. I am honoring tradition by vesting myself in virginal white for my fitting today."

"Where's my mask? The air's getting a little thick in here, don't you think?"

"It's traditional for the bride to wear a veil on her face, not a mask. However, if our beloved Department of Homeland Security raises the alert above Orange you may wear a gas mask during the ceremony if you wish."

"Does that mean we need to have a bomb detector at the door of the church? I'm not sure God would approve."

"God won't object. However the minister…."

"I think taxing her liberal nature with a two bride ceremony is sufficient."

"Perhaps you're right. In any case, I shall wear a demure, but lacy, white brassiere when we tie the knot. Can we get a discount if we buy two of everything?"

"Not if we're late for the fitting. Quit talking and put your falsies in while I get dressed."

"Yes ma'am! Will you be this bossy when we're married?"

"Certainly. Someone has to be the man in this relationship. Ouch! That wasn't very ladylike!"

"I thought you were taking the man's role. Not tough enough to take a pinch on the ass?"

"Enough, I surrender. I really like that dress on you.

"Thank you, I rather favor it myself. A lovely lady of my acquaintance gave it to me. I thought Cliff would burst a gusset when I told him you pick out my dresses for me."

"I never thought I'd approve of anything Cliff did, but since he finally convinced you to live your dream I have to thank him."

"Wait until he has to dance with me at the reception before you do. I wouldn't want to scare him off. Shall we go?"

"We shall, just as soon as I have shoes on my feet."
 

WHEREAS you have been a crossdresser for many years and;
WHEREAS you routinely appear in public without being read and;
WHEREAS you customarily enter women's dressing rooms to try on new dresses without problems and;
WHEREAS your crossdressing sister Bernice told you that Sandy's bridal shop was the soul of discretion when she bought a wedding dress and;
WHEREAS Bernice is 6'3 and weighs 300 pounds and;
WHEREAS the woman you love approves of what you're doing
BE IT THEREFORE RESOLVED: You will not choke, freeze, suffer shortness of breath, lose your feminine voice or otherwise panic when you look for your own wedding dress.
 

Don
I parked the car in front of the big glass window, the one that contained a mannequin in a lovely, full wedding gown, complete with bouquet. I turned off the motor, swung my legs from the car in a ladylike manner, and waited for Jenny to meet me in front of the car. I walked to the door, refrained at the last second from opening it for her as a gentleman would and entered the store. A small woman with a big head of hair glanced at us and a perky smile lit her face.

Then I panicked.

"- - - - - ," I said.

"May I help you ladies?" she asked.

"- - - - - , " I repeated.

"We have an appointment to look at dresses." Jenny to the rescue.

"Of course. You must be Jenny and Darlene. Please, have a seat and let's see what we can do." She waved at a table with several chairs around it. By the time we had seated ourselves and I had stirred some cream in my coffee, the panic had passed, to be replaced by a growing excitement.

"Now," she continued, "I understand this will be a two bride ceremony." We both agreed. "Then let's start with the basics. Do you both want to have the same style of gown or will you be wanting something individual?"

"I'm not sure," answered Jenny. "It would be kind of fun to match, but we have such different body types; I'm not sure we could find one style that flatters us both."

"I think that would be a wise choice, dear. We can tie elements of each dress together, but still provide an individual look for each of you. I would suggest a ball gown silhouette, since it will flatter both of you. A nice, full skirt will help minimize the height difference between you. Darlene, I'm afraid I need to get rather personal with you. Do you use attachable breast forms or will you need a full brassiere?"

Funny how she had no doubt which one was the male in sheep's clothing.

"I've been thinking about getting an attachable pair, but under the circumstances, I think I should be wearing a conventional bra. I think a more matronly look is preferable to sexy. Sometimes it's fun to show a little cleavage, but it is rather constricting and I would rather not have that distraction when we get married."

"I think I see. May I complement you on your appearance? Your outfit is quite suitable for your age and body type. I don't think I would have guessed you were a man if I had passed you on the street. You certainly don't look 'matronly' to my eye.

"Thank you."

"You've anticipated my Bride 101 lecture, Darlene. You're going to be wearing your gown for a considerable length of time, dancing in it, socializing in it, and trying not to spoil it in a madhouse of food and drink. I want you to think very seriously about comfort. I have heard too many stories of tired and cranky brides who didn't realize how difficult high heels and extravagant gowns can be. Believe me, we can find a very flattering style that will make your wedding day a pleasure, not an endurance contest."

"Now Jenny, normally I would suggest a strapless style for your figure, but since Darlene will be wearing full bodice you should too. I would think a scoop neckline for you and something more square for Darlene, perhaps a bateau. I don't mean to get too personal, Darlene, but may I see your bare arms?"

I raised the loose, flowing sleeves of my dress. "I'm afraid I have a bit more muscle mass than most women."

"Please, don't be embarrassed, dear. You do have large shoulders and upper arms, but I think you should be able to carry off a three quarter sleeve. Now that we have some idea of what we should be looking for it's time for the fun part. Darlene, I think I have something you will enjoy trying on over here.

Have you ever actually tried on a bridal gown? I don't think I'm all that different than most crossdressers, but as much as I have thought of it I never actually had the bravado to do it. Shopping for regular dresses is really pretty simple. They hang there on racks and you wander about and look them over. The salesladies (if you can find a live person in most big stores these days) don't pay you much attention, even in male mode. If you have the nerve and the figure you can even take one into the dressing room and try it on, no human interaction needed.

Not so with a bridal gown. You find them mostly in little shops with very solicitous and knowledgeable people ready to guide you through every step, just as Sandy had just done. If I could suffer a panic attack entering Sandy's door, just think how daunting it would be for one of my deeply closeted sisters. Some adventures will remain as dreams to many.

By the time we were through discussing styles, I was feeling very relaxed and secure. The first gown Shelly showed me had an intricately pleated bodice and high neckline, but something about it wasn't quite right. Perhaps the vertical pleats emphasized my height a bit too much. While my choices were somewhat limited by my size, Shelly knew that brides come in all sizes and there was no shortage of samples to try on.

There's something else I hadn't considered, most of those gowns took help to put on correctly, so Shirley and Theresa soon saw me in my lacy white bra and panties. A gentle smile crossed Shelly's face the first time, but she treated me as if I were as feminine as she, without the slightest trace of disapproval. I was soon completely comfortable with both of them as we tried on dress after dress.

Actually seeing the dress on your body helps, I was able to see just what flattered me and what didn't. By the end of the evening both Jenny and I had a pretty good idea of what we wanted, so we sat down and paged through the various collections until we were satisfied. The orders were placed (Cliff's $500 would be greatly appreciated!) and Shelly kissed us goodbye as if we were long time friends. I was floating on a cloud by the time we got back into the car, and so was Jenny. What a delightful experience!
 

Don
"Hey Don, got a minute to talk?" asked Jimmy.

"Sure Jimmy, c'mon in. I think there's a chair under the pile of crap over there." No one has ever accused me of keeping my little cubbyhole neat. Computerization had rather snuck up on the company and my work area, a bench set aside in the corner of the shop, had grown haphazardly as the work increased. A few years back, someone had slapped up a couple of walls around my mess so I had a place to hang things, thus I now had an office. Ah, the perquisites of power!

"Don — that bet with Cliff. You really going to do it?"

"I'm really going to do it, Jimmy."

"I thought so. Look Don, it's none of my business but a few months back I saw Jenny in the mall with a woman who could have been your sister. I didn't say anything because at the time I was looking a lot like my own sister. What I'm trying to say is that I can understand why you'd want to be a bride even if it there wasn't a bet involved. If I'm wrong I'll just shut up and leave."

I guess I should have been expecting it when I made the decision to come out for the wedding, but I really hadn't thought it through all the way. I suppose some part of me was hoping I could get away with blaming one public appearance on the bet and then everyone would conveniently forget about it and I could keep Darlene in some back room when her presence was inconvenient. The feeling in my stomach was somewhere between that of a kid with his hand in the cookie jar and sitting in front of an IRS agent with a big frown on her face. I took a deep breath.

"I go by the name Darlene when Jenny and I cruise the malls, Jimmy."

"Whew! I guess you know how hard it is to talk about being a crossdresser, but I had to say something. I go by Jantina; my family's Dutch and I always loved the name."

"Pretty name. I always thought you would make a good looking woman if you were so inclined, but I didn't have the nerve to even mention the subject. I guess I'm a little jealous, but you work with the body you got."

"I would have gladly traded in this body most of the time I was growing up. You have no idea how hard it is to be the smallest guy in school or the Little League or anyplace else. No matter how good you are, most people think being short means you're never going to do things right. Hell, I was almost 18 before I had my first date, girls just wouldn't take me seriously. These days I thank my lucky stars for my body. I still get some pretty strange looks as a man, but no one looks twice at Jantina.

"I never thought about it before, but I can see the problem. Me, I'm always having to make myself look smaller and more feminine. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find a wedding gown that didn't make me look like a man in a dress. I never felt so big and clunky as I did last night when we were at the bridal shop."

"I guess we all got problems, just different ones. Don?" he hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"What made you come out? Until I saw you with Jenny I hadn't a clue you might be a sister. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, but after the scene when my ex found out, I never had the nerve. It was a lot of years before I found someone who could love me, and you can be sure I told her about Jantina when we started to get serious. I guess Jenny must be okay with you in a dress, but what about the rest of your family? Did they freak out?"

I surprised him by laughing. "Jimmy, my sister June started dressing me up before I was old enough to remember. My mom thought it was cute when I was a kid, and when she became a feminist she thought it was liberating for me. Would you believe my sister has her husband dressing up too? They're both actors and he claims it was just practice for playing Tootsie, but if I know June, they're going to need a lot more closet space from now on. He was even a bridesmaid when mom remarried last year and no one twigged that June's friend from Chicago was really her husband. It hurt a lot that I couldn't be a bridesmaid for mom without stealing the show at her wedding."

"Yeah, I guess we all dream of being bridesmaids or brides sometime in our lives. I'm glad you decided to actually do it. Maybe someday it'll be my turn."

"Jimmy, if you want to, I could use another bridesmaid."

"Thank you, Don. I'm honored but I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

"Well, you did offer to be the flower girl. I could start something with Cliff and get him to expand the bet to include you. Wouldn't you like to see his face when the both of us walk down the aisle in dresses and carrying flowers?"

"You are an evil man, Don. If you can do it, I'll play along. I leave my fate in your hands, sister."

"Not in my hands, Jantina. In Jenny's.
 

Charlene, Jenny's mom
My mother, may she rest in peace, often told the story of how I came into the kitchen one day with my sister Betty. I was about two years old and had my arm wrapped around her neck, she had a blue tinge to her chubby cheeks and I was practically dragging her along with me. I cheerfully announced "See Mommy, I can carry Betty!"

Right now, I was wishing I had finished the job. I briefly considered completing it in, say, the next few minutes. As a woman, I felt 'justifiable homicide' or maybe even 'self defense' might be acceptable explanations, but as a lawyer I really wouldn't have wanted to take the case.

The cause of this little daydream was the guest list for the bridal shower. When I had allowed my darling sister to badger me into hosting it with her I simply didn't realize just how delicate it would be to ask the world to greet two brides at once. I dearly love my daughter Jenny, and I have come to appreciate her true love as both Don or Darlene, but it has been a trial. Having a psychiatrist for a sister helps in times of great stress, and without Betty's wisdom and advice I fear I might have reacted badly and lost both my daughter and her love.

Be that as it may, I was wishing my daughter had chosen a mate who's eccentricities did not show on the surface. I was just plain scared at telling the world about it. Then there was the issue of inviting Darlene's friends to the shower. After all, one couldn't properly slight one of the brides, but having several crossdressers included in the guest list made me nervous. Betty had once again reassured me that the world was far more accepting of individual differences than when we had gotten married a generation ago.

"That's fine for you to say, Betty, but it's not you that has to announce to your professional colleagues that your daughter's marrying a crossdresser."

"Charlene, my professional colleagues would line up for the chance to meet Darlene. Just be glad she is one of those rare crossdressers that look good as a woman. My usual clients have physical challenges that are hard to overcome."

"I have no doubt, darling sister, but not too long ago my professional colleagues would have lined up for a chance to prosecute her for public indecency or whatever obscure blue law they could find still on the books."

"So don't invite anyone from the DA's office. You have any friends in the Vice Squad?

"You're a lot of help."

"That's what sisters are for. Really Charlene, if it's going to be such a problem then perhaps we should cancel the shower or let one of Jenny's friends do it."

"No, I'm just having an attack of middle class angst. Jenny and Don have clearly made the decision to make Darlene a part of their lives and we're going to have to live with that. As you keep telling me, we are not responsible for the actions of others. If I want to have a happy family then I will have to accept Darlene as part of it, even when outsiders are present."

"Be careful, sister. If more people were that sensible I'd be out of a job.

"Tough. I wouldn't mind if all you damned shrinks became unemployed. Just think — I'd never have to question an 'expert witness' again."

"You wound me!"

"You're a doctor. Heal thyself! I suppose we need to respect their wishes and not hide Darlene. Besides, I wouldn't want people to think Harry was running around with a younger woman when he and Darlene go fishing at the cabin together."

"Enough soul searching, sister…we have a party to plan. Let's start with the Judges, then the lawyers and politicians. We'll consider the peons like Jenny's friends next and save Darlene's 'sisters' for last.

"How are we going to hold a party with such an insane mix of people?

"With the usual silly games and activities. Remember, we only have to keep them together for a few hours. Now, I have some ideas about the phrasing of the invitations, and I don't want it to sound like a subpoena either."

"Any suggestions for the wedding invitation? That's going to be a bit tricky too. 'Mr. & Mrs. Bosch invite you to the wedding of their daughter Jenny to a guy wearing a wedding gown' just doesn't cut it. I'm not even sure what name to use! I don't want any of the guests to have a coronary when they find Don in a dress, but do we really want to put into print she's marrying someone named Darlene? I am completely flummoxed, Betty."

"It is a quandary, Charlene. Even though I've had many clients with gender dysphoria, none of them have actually fulfilled what is a very common fantasy. I'm afraid I have no experience to guide you. Would it be too tacky to have a small note to the effect of 'In solidarity with oppressed minorities Mr. Leget and Miss Bosch have chosen to etc. etc.'?"

"I don't suppose we could be truthful and say 'To the consternation of their parents and friends, Mr. Leget etc. etc.' How can someone I'm so fond of cause such a problem just by being themselves?"

"At the risk of repeating myself, I'd be out of a job if we knew. You'll cope splendidly, my dear. You always do."
 

Jenny
How do I get myself into these situations? Since the day we met, when I found him wearing a bra while he did the laundry in the basement of our apartment building, his life as Darlene has fascinated me. I love him dearly, but sometimes my love can get stuck in his male side no matter what his appearance.

Call me weird, but it really doesn't matter if I spend my time with Don or Darlene. So far it works out about even. Most weekends are spent with Darlene unless there's some function that specifically calls for Don. Most weeknights it's just too much trouble to get all made up and Don putters around the place. I love the person that shares those names and it doesn't matter to me what clothing is covering the body.

Sometimes I find myself in the rather weird position of encouraging my love to dress up. Not that he doesn't want to, but there's still enough of the fear and guilt so many of his 'sisters' have to cope with that keeps Darlene under wraps if there's a chance someone who knows Don might find out about Darlene. Our getting married was one of those times. Since the time we started to get serious about each other, I knew Don dreamed of being married in a wedding dress, yet when we set the date he was wracked by indecision.

Both of our families, even Daddy (especially Daddy!), have accepted his crossdressing with an amazing lack of distress, for that matter, his sister and my aunt are positively cheerleaders for Darlene. While we have a few friends who know and accept Darlene, most of our acquaintances are in blissful ignorance about my live-in girlfriend and Don isn't really sure he wants to change that.

For my part, I think I would rather let the world know about Darlene, it would make keeping track of who knows and who doesn't so much simpler. So far, we haven't lost any friends when we told them, but we discussed pretty thoroughly who we would tell beforehand so that's not too big a surprise. The problem is distant relatives, old family friends, and co-workers; the kind of people you invite to a wedding but otherwise don't know too much about. For all that Cliff is a chauvinistic idiot, I have to thank him for making up my beloved's mind.

Which brings me to today's little caper. Now that Don was comfortable about exchanging vows with me as Darlene it was starting to look like half the wedding party would be men in gowns. By the time I got through with my lunchtime visit with Don I fully intended to have Cliff think he was forcing Jimmy to wear a dress at the wedding. The Bogus Bridesmaid Caper - sounds like a title for a Donald Westlake novel, doesn't it? Maybe that's not so good an allusion, Westlake's capers always go awry and I want this one to come off as planned.

I pulled into the parking space and checked my hair and makeup. Instead of my usual working suit, I had worn a frilly white dress with enough lace to satisfy even Darlene at her most feminine. Short hemline, plunging neckline with a precisely sized pendant swinging in my cleavage, more heel on my shoes than I prefer, lots of jangling bracelets, and godawful big gold hoops dangling from my ears. In other words, an outfit to distract the hell out of Cliff while I twisted him around my finger. Mother Jones might have been shocked at my appearance, but she would have understood my choice of weapons for my duel with Cliff. Sample book in hand, I listened to the echoes of my too high heels as I walked down the hall. Turning on my brightest smile I burst into the lunchroom.

"Don!" I exclaimed, "I couldn't wait for you to see this!"

Excitedly, I thrust the book in front of him as he quickly snatched his sandwich out of the way. In the sudden silence my unexpected entrance had produced, I paged through the book until we I came to the picture of the gown he had enthusiastically chosen. He must have inherited some of his sister's acting talent because he managed to look very, very embarrassed.

"I've been looking all over the city for the perfect dress and I finally found it. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" I hoped my acting talent was as good as his, because I nearly gagged at the saccharine in my voice. "Look at that darling ruffle and the beautiful train! It's simply scrumptious!"

"Uh…" he replied with just the right touch of confused male in his voice. "You'll look beautiful in it, Jenny."

If I thought the place was silent before, there was a positive absence of sound now.

"I meant for you! You do want to win that bet, don't you?" I inquired sweetly. I was looking at Cliff out of the corner of my eye, and he was staring intently at me. Naturally I failed to notice his stare as I prattled on. "I think it's so sweet you want to support my gay friends like this. You are the most romantic and caring man I know!" I gushed. Then I planted an enthusiastic kiss, which we held for quite some time. Now I failed to notice the red spreading over Cliff's face. "I'm so glad your friends here at work convinced you that you should wear this delightful gown when we get married."

Now, at last, I noticed Cliff, but true to the character of the ditz I was portraying, I completely failed to see his discomfort. Swinging my hips, I pranced over to him and enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug, making sure his nose was firmly inserted in my cleavage. From the odd quivering I felt as I hugged him (yucch!), I knew I had the poor man very, um, moved.

"Thank you so much, Cliff. It means so much to me that my Donnie (Oops — maybe I was going too far. Don hates to be called Donnie.) is willing to help me make a statement for equality at our wedding. Without your support I don't think he would have." There, I had him completely confused and flustered. The guys at the lunch table were laughing uproariously as I carried on.

"Would you consider being one of my bridesmaids, Cliffie dear? You'd look lovely in lavender!"

By then even Cliff must have figured out I was playing him for a sucker, but the whole thing was so funny the rest of the guys were happy to play along. As the round of ribald comments slowed, Jimmy took his cue.

"Uh Jenny?"

"Yes Jim?"

"I think you're a bit confused. Cliff is betting five hundred bucks that Don WON'T wear a dress at the wedding. I think old Cliff is a bit of a conservative in some matters. Guys wearing dresses seems to bother him for some reason."

"Does that mean you won't be my bridesmaid?" I pouted. "I was so hoping the nice people Don works with would support us."

There ensued a round of jeering encouragement for Cliff to comply with my wishes, just as I had expected, with Jimmy leading the pack. Cliff's face was turning a lovely shade of magenta.

"If you think it's such a fu.., darn good idea to dress like pansies then why don't you be the fu.., uh, bridesmaid, Jimmy?" The poor man didn't want to swear with a lady present. How quaint!

"It'd be worth it just to piss you off, Cliffie baby, but you're paying Don five big ones to dress up, how much do I get?"

"I wouldn't give a shrimp like you a nickel."

"Jeez Cliff, shrimp goes ten, twelve bucks a pound. Ain't I worth a tenner? C'mon guys, it's got to be worth a pound of shrimp to see me go down the aisle in a dress."

"I'm in Jimmy. Anything to see Cliff steamed."

"If it's shrimp you're after maybe it better be a cocktail dress."

"I'm in too. I'm sick of Cliff's carping!"

You guys really want Jimmy floundering around your wedding?"

"Clam up, buddy!

"Who's gonna hold the stakes? They better have a freezer or I wouldn't want to win the bet by the time Don gets married."

By the time I left, Jimmy had his wish, Cliff's conservative views had taken a trouncing, and we were assured a shrimp buffet at the wedding.

Not a bad piece of work.
 

Don
Things at work calmed down for a few days after our attempt at Gorilla Theater. Other than an occasional smartass remark, the whole thing was lost in the day to day madness of running a machine shop. Returning to my little cubbyhole a few days later, I found a yellow note on top of the pile on my desk. In his characteristic green ink the boss had scribbled "Don — See me. GG." Not one for using more words than necessary was Gene Garrett.

It took a while to catch up with Gene, we both spend a lot of time running around the plant. Unlike my space, his office is clean and polished, no clutter anywhere. I sat down and asked, "What did you want, Gene?"

"I'm not so sure what I want, to tell the truth. I had to spend a good twenty minutes listening to Cliff bitch and moan about you and Jimmy. He seems to think you're about to disgrace the company and commit indecent exposure or something. Then he seems to think that your lady shouldn't be allowed in the lunchroom because she looks like a tart. Sometimes it's a bit hard to figure out what Cliff really means, but I don't want things getting out of hand around here."

"You may be too late for that, Gene. I kinda let Cliff get my goat the other day when he was telling us how evil it was for gays to get married."

"Huh? What's that got to do with the price of peas?"

So I recounted the bet, carefully slanting it to make it look like I was doing it only to make Cliff mad.

"Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind, Don? You aren't seriously going to wear a dress to your wedding because of a stupid bet?"

"Well, like I said, it kinda got out of hand. I was pissed at Cliff before it happened and when he made the bet I just took it to spite him. You don't know Jenny too well, but she is a major advocate for gay rights, on or off the job. Remember the company picnic when she and Cliff got into a 'discussion' about right-to-work laws and universal health care?

"I wasn't sure what they were arguing about but it looked pretty intense."

"It was. I don't think there's a chance in hell I could convince her I should wear a tuxedo, and besides it's an easy $500 for the honeymoon. To tell the truth, Gene, it's crazy enough that I'm getting a kick out of it."

"I don't know, Don. I try to keep my nose out of my employee's personal lives, but sometimes it gets hard. You're not gay, are you Don?"

"Hell, Gene, I'm marrying a woman, aren't I? No, I'm not gay, but I really don't see anything wrong with being gay, either."

"I guess I'm not quite so liberal, this whole thing makes me very nervous, Don."

"I'm sorry, Gene. I got carried away. I'll try to make sure it doesn't affect anyone at work, OK?"

"Yeah, do that. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about "

"It wasn't?

"Look Don, I appreciate everything you've done in bringing the company up to snuff technologically. I consider you to be a very valuable man. You've become my bridge between management and the guys on the floor, and your personal efforts have made a big difference in how well the company runs. I know you're still in the union, but a good part of what you're doing now is what could be called management."

"Don't get me wrong, I think this is a great development. I don't want this place to become one of those shops where Union and Management fight each other; if we work together we're all better off. In any case, I'd like to send you for some training in the office side of the operation.

I looked curious, not sure what to say.

"There's a seminar on a new efficiency and quality control program in a couple of weeks and I'd like you to go. What I'm interested in is whether this is something useful or just another package of happy horseshit from some consultant who wants to make a bundle. You have a good understanding of both sides of our operation and I think you are the man to send."

"I don't know, Gene. I've never done anything like that before."

"Don, I'll let you in on one of the little secrets of management. The things at a nice resort and you can be sure there's plenty of time available to enjoy the facilities when you're not attending to business. Take Jenny with you and enjoy yourselves on the company, then bring me back a report."

"This is starting to sound better and better. If I'm going to represent management does that mean I gotta wear a suit and tie and smoke a big cigar so we look prosperous to the other folks?"

"At a resort on a weekend? 'Business casual' as the euphemism goes. Hell, you can wear your damned wedding dress for all I care, just as long as you're not extorting any more money from Cliff."

I think I heard my Fairy Godmother sprinkling pixie dust just about then. Gene thought he was being funny, but I had a new skirted suit that I was dying to wear.

"What happens if I think it's a load of crap?"

"Then it costs me a few bucks for the seminar and I don't waste a bundle trying to implement something that won't work."

"I'll see what I can do, Gene."
 

Jenny
"Hello?"

"Hi yourself, daughter. You sound perky today."

"I should. Don and I got the walls finished in the bedroom yesterday and we'll paint them today. If we can get the carpet put in this week we can move next weekend. I can hardly wait!"

"Where do you get your energy?

"I just stick my finger in the wall socket and charge as needed."

"I refuse to be shocked by your attitude. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about when to have the shower."

"Shower?"

"Yes. The Bridal Shower, darling. Remember — you're getting married. It's traditional to give the bride a shower, so Betty and I are doing so even if we seem to have a surplus of brides."

"Oh, my. I hadn't thought of that. This keeps getting more complicated."

"It's a wedding, dear. It's supposed to be complicated."

"So it seems. I'm starting to have second thoughts about this two bride business. I hadn't thought through how thoroughly Darlene would be shown to the world."

"You always were impulsive, Jenny dear. I'm afraid it's a little late to change your mind at this point. I dread talking to Jeff once he opens the invitation. How we ever managed to raise a Republican is beyond me, but I have no doubt he's going to make life difficult. I hope my liberal friends don't have an unsuspected conservative streak in them when it comes to crossdressing."

"Tell me about it. At least you're working with liberals. I had no idea how resistant Union people could be to the idea of the groom in a dress. They may be sending the RSVP to you but I'm going to get a lot of calls."

"Well, Betty did warn you."

"So she did, and so did you. I guess Darlene and I really didn't believe how public things were going to get. The new neighbors must be wondering who's moving into the place. For better or worse, Don and I have just about decided that Darlene is going to be out of the closet for good. Not that we worked to hard to hide it before.

"Actually Mom, it was Darlene and I who finished the plastering yesterday, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and the bare minimum of makeup to hide the beard. I've barely had time to get used to Darlene in casual clothes, let alone grubbies for working. I can hardly wait to see Darlene spattered with paint. If she doesn't wear something over her wig it'll be ruined. Frankly, I think as long as he's wearing a bra he's happy. I guess there are some things I'll never understand."

"Life is a mystery, Jenny. You're the one who fell in love with a crossdresser. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but there will be challenges. Anyway, I still need a date."

"I don't think daddy would approve of you attending with another man."

"You try a mother's patience, girl."

"Well, we should be moving next week and the following week is that seminar for Don's work. Darlene and I will be attending that, you know. The next week I have a labor picnic so it will have to be four weeks from now. That should be plenty of time to send invitations."

"Very good. Saturday afternoon, four weeks from now. Betty has volunteered her place, so all we have to do is find something to keep Roger amused and the festivities can commence without any untoward male influence. I can hardly wait to see how Darlene handles the silly party games Kathy's planned. That's traditional too, you know."

"Just do me one favor, mother. Don't try and get Uncle Roger to put on a dress if he makes a fuss about leaving. They're enough crossdressers in this wedding as it is."

"Speaking of which, I'll need addresses of any friends you or Darlene want at the shower."

"You sure you want to test your friend's liberal natures with some of Darlene's 'sisters'?"

"I'd rather appear before Judge Dredd, but I'm not about to provide grounds for a sexual discrimination suit. This shower ought to provide party stories for a good, long time."

"I'll e-mail you the names. And mom…"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. I love you very much."

"I know, dear. Why do you think I'm willing to do this?"
 

Don
Saturday morning, and I'll admit I wasn't at my most alert. Jenny and I hadn't gotten much sleep last night, even though we spent it all in bed. Even coffee in the resort dining room and a rather good breakfast didn't help. I was trying to be attentive, but after the first half hour or so it was becoming obvious this was just another three letter wonder (these quality and motivation programs always have a three letter acronym) that just ate time and effort, producing what usually results from indigestible matter. Oh well, Gene would be disappointed, but I intended to enjoy myself at his expense.

This guy was droning on and on about 200% effort, strategic somethings, and planned whatsis in the workplace. This program's mantra was "Act NOW!"…you could almost hear the capital letters. I was motivated, all right, but my motivation was to get Jenny back to the room so we could rut like rabbits. She had decided to attend the lecture with me in the hope it would offer something she could use professionally. Oh, well — at least I could whisper comments to her.

That afternoon, we had signed up for an amateur golf tournament. Neither of us were really golfers, but I was curious as to what playing golf as Darlene would feel like. Our casual business attire was abandoned for the comfort of simple white shells over suitably patterned bras that would just show through, flowered cotton skirts, and athletic shoes. I rather admired how Darlene looked in resort garb, a look I had never tried before, and I positively drooled when I looked at Jenny. I was going to have to watch that or people would start wondering.

Golf while being dressed turned out to be a wonderful experience. It took a while to get my balance with the weight of the falsies in my bra, but it felt great to take a swing at the ball and feel how my breasts moved with the motion. Then there was the feeling as my breasts brushed my arms when I stood over a putt, skirt caressing my legs in the gentle breeze. My score at the end of the round clearly testified to my amateur status, but I won the prize for the "Most Enthusiastic" participant. Being a tourney run by an outfit trying to sell us something, there were prizes for everyone, but it was fun.

Sunday I attended another session while Jenny wisely found something far more interesting to do. We played another round of golf just for the fun of it, then the final presentation. I suppose you have to pay for you fun, and everything but the seminar was fun....
 

Jenny
"Let's go shopping, darling"

"Sure. Going to treat me to dinner?"

"I suppose. Thai?"

"Why not? Let's go."

"You'll have to change first. I'm taking Darlene shopping."

"Oh?"

"You can try out that new white caftan and I'll explain over dinner."

"Very well, Oh Woman of Mystery. I shall allow you your little secret. Give me time to transform myself and we'll be off."

"Your clothes are on the bed, along with your bra and inserts."

"My god, am I about to marry a dominatrix?"

"Get going or I'll have to remember where I left my whip the last time I used it."
 

"Ok, Jenny my love, what's going on? I'd hate to have these lovely spring rolls go to waste because my digestion is suffering with my pangs of uncertainty."

"That'll be the day. Just remember, Darlene is a lady and shouldn't order another round of spring rolls."

"I AM about to marry a dominatrix."

"Hush. I talked to mother today."

"Does it run in the family? She dominated you so now you have to dominate me?"

"Will you be quiet? She and Aunt Betty are throwing us a bridal shower."

"That's nice. Don't you have to register at some expensive shop or something?"

"You're not listening, darling. I said she's throwing a shower for us. Two brides at the wedding, two brides at the shower." Very symmetrical, don't you think?"

"You're kidding?"

"You're wrong."

"Jenny, this is getting out of hand!"

"Keep your voice down, remember we're at a restaurant. And you're right — it is getting out of hand. I knew you really wanted to be married as a bride, darling, and I really do want to have you as my bride when we walk down the aisle. All I really thought about is how romantic it could all be. I don't think either of us really thought it through, did we?"

"I have to say you're right, I've dreamed about being a bride since I was a teenager. When you said yes, I thought that because I was able to be convincing as a woman there would be no other problems. Reality sure bites, doesn't it.?"

"It's not that bad, Darlene. It's not like you've been hiding in a closet all these years. I suppose if my mother feels comfortable introducing Darlene to her friends at the shower she must approve of you. Mother wouldn't have made this a two bride shower unless she was very sure about the situation.

"Has your mother ever been unsure about anything?"

"Only on the surface. You should have grown up with her!"

"If I had you would never have found Darlene, would you?"

"I suppose you're right. You are welcome to keep your own mother in that case."

"Very generous of you, light of my life."

"Enough! We need to be serious about this. Darlene has become a public figure and we are going to have to acknowledge that."

"As forthright as your mother, aren't you?"

"As the twig is bent… I want to know what you think of all this."

"I feel like I'm trapped in a hurricane and am being blown about far faster than I want to be. I still have this unreasoning fear that anyone who knows Don will be horrified at Darlene and will never speak to me again. I've been proved wrong by just about everyone who means anything to me, but that fear is still there. I grew up with it and it isn't easy to let go!"

"It is hard to let go of those fears, isn't it? I can only guess what it must be like, darling. I have to tell you that when I thought of making a list of my friends for the shower I had a problem myself. I love you as Darlene but we have made an effort not to broadcast her existence."

"Well, the FCC is changing the rules for broadcasters, aren't they? It looks like even the government is trying to tell us that Darlene can't stay in the closet. Hell, right now I'd settle for a tasteful oriental screen between me and the unwashed masses. Jenny, are you willing to live with everyone knowing I'm a crossdresser?"

"Have I got any choice? No, really, I have done some serious thinking and it's very clear we can't put Darlene back in the closet no matter what happens. The only thing we can do is hold our heads high and make it very clear that Don and Darlene are the people I love and I am proud to be seen with both of them."

"Thank you, Jenny. I really appreciate that you can love me as I am, as hard as that can be sometimes. I didn't intend to have this happen, but now that it has, I think we have to simply be honest and not try to hide my crossdressing any more. That's a scary thought, but the only thing I can think of that's worse is not having you in my life."

"I love you, Darlene. We'll get through this together and it will be a beautiful ceremony."

"If you're there it will be beautiful. What else do I need?"

"Well, a dress for the shower, for one thing. I thought that since it would be our first public appearance as a couple we should have matching dresses. Let's hit them with both barrels at once and see what happens!"

"Perhaps you should choose your images more carefully. What happens when you hit something with both barrels at once is a bloody mess with unpleasant stuff strewn around the thither and yon. Hardly the way I would like to have my first bridal shower end up."

"You're being too literal, love. A woman would know what I meant."

"My apologies. If we can't scandalize them with blood and guts then shall we do so with hemlines and necklines?"

"A wonderful idea. You have nice legs and we should show them off. Let's be careful about the necklines, though. There's a lot of laughing at a bridal shower and I wouldn't want you to have your duct taped cleavage come apart at the wrong moment!"

"Now who's being too practical? Let me duck in and powder my nose while you pay the bill, then we can go shopping!"
 

Don
Saturday morning, moving day. The new house was ready, bedroom walls painted, carpets laid, plumbing ready for use when the dust of moving settled. Darlene was taking the day off since Don's grunting masculinity would be an asset in schlepping large pieces of furniture and heavy boxes. So, too, would the muscles attached to Jenny's older brother Jeff. We hadn't met before, as he and his wife live several hours away, but some not so subtle pressure was about to bring him to our doorstep with a large truck.

It boiled down to a trial run for the wedding. I had been warned that Jeff was the conservative black sheep in a family of liberals, and noticeably gay phobic to boot.

OK. Give me a quick check before he comes in and see if I can still do this right."

"Ugh. Get me beer, woman!"

"Those people are just lazy. I say we need to cut taxes and make them get jobs!"

"Hey baby, I got what you're looking for!"

"Donald William Leget, my brother may be a bit conservative, but he is NOT a Neanderthal. He and Pam drove all the way up here last night to meet you, and he's being kind enough to help us move, so behave yourself. Remember we're invited to Aunt Betty's for supper when we're done. I do not intend to try to cook anything in the new house until we have things organized, so don't blow it with Jeff unless you want to eat at McDonalds tonight."

Yes, mother."

A babble from outside the window announced the arrival of the work crew. Kathy, complete with a crowd of boys each eager to prove themselves stronger and better than the others before her pixie-like eyes, had arrived. They milled around a bit while we made introductions, then the doorbell rang and I opened it.

He didn't look like a Neanderthal, or at least his forehead didn't slope too much.

"You must be Jeff. I'm Don." I held out my hand.

He took it, so far so good.

"Nice to meet you. Funny, you don't look like the celestial being my sister described."

"I save the patriarchal bit for the believers, you're family so you get the cut-rate version. Come on in"

He laughed, a good sign. He couldn't be all that fundamental, I hoped. By this time, Jenny had pushed me out of the way and hugged her brother.

"Pam's over at your new place with Mother, ready to give you reams of advice on where to put things. Hey sis, this doesn't look too bad, an apartment can't hold that much stuff."

"You haven't seen the storage areas. When we consolidated households we filled up every square inch of space we had in the basement."

"Can I interest you in some Garage Sale signs? Much easier to sell it than move it, you know."

"You're here to work, buster. Now lift that barge and tote that bale!"

"Yes, Jen Bug!" Hmmm…I hadn't heard that particular childhood nickname before.

I waved and signaled as Jeff backed the truck to the door, and then we proceeded to load it up. We had been boxing everything we owned for the last week, and in an amazingly short period of time, the rooms were empty and the truck full. Jenny proved to be a seasoned straw boss, directing the crew efficiently as they sweated and strained.

I caught a look on Jeff's face when Jenny directed him and one of Kathy's swains to move Darlene's dressing table next. She and Kathy took charge of emptying the closets and putting our wardrobes in hanger boxes. As Jeff and I entered the room we caught a snatch of conversation.

"I love that skirt, Aunt Jenny. Where did you get it?"

"That's Darlene's. You'll have to ask her."

"Hey Uncle Don, where'd you get the pretty skirt?" Too late she realized that Jeff was with me. Oh well, he knew and he was just going to have to live with it.

"Dots. I replied, "On sale, of course. I couldn't resist it."

"Jeff, you look like you're choking on a sour pickle."

"Jenny, I'd rather not talk about it just now."

"Relax, Jeff. I've probably heard what you're thinking a time or two before," I replied.

"Perhaps, but if you want to get that truck loaded we need to keep working." His voice was very flat.

"OK, Jeff," Jenny temporized, "But we still need to talk."

"Spoken like a modern woman, sis. Always have to talk about everything."

"You bet your ass, bro."

I wish I could describe his face just then. I really do, but words fail me.
 

Betty
Dinner was finished and the coffee pouring ceremonies had begun. The intrepid movers looked tired, but tired or not there were things that needed to be said before they could grow to damage the family.

I always feel ambiguous at these times. I try to leave my work at the office because a psychiatrist who can't let go of her work will soon go crazy. Inevitably, though, you are called on to use your professional skills within the family. There were signs of hope, Jeff had sat next to Don without trouble, but the conversation was noticeably strained during the meal. I was trying to come up with a smooth and professional way to start the conversation that we all knew had to happen but nobody wanted to be part of when Jenny saved me the trouble.

"Well Jeff, have you decided if you're going to disown me yet?"

"Jennifer, you know better than that!"

"Do I? I know you have a problem with our plans for a two bride ceremony, so I think we need to get this out in the open. Jeff, I fell in love with Don and from the very first day I knew he was a crossdresser. You may not believe it but I like having Darlene as part of my life, and we have decided we will no longer hide her from the rest of the world. That doesn't mean we'll force her on you, after the wedding you will never have to see her again if that's what you want. I just don't want to find there's a wall between us because I love both Don and Darlene."

Forthright and to the point, that's Jenny. I don't think I could have said it better myself. Jeff sat without speaking for quite some time.

"Jen, do we have to talk about such things? You know how I feel about homosexuality, but I don't want to start a family fight."

"Jeff," Don cut in, "I'm not gay, not even bi. My sexuality is focused strictly on women. That may be hard for you to grasp, but it's true."

"Then why… why would you want to do something like that?"

"It's okay to use the word 'crossdress', Jeff," I responded. "A good part of my practice involves crossdressers and only a very small percentage of them are gay."

"It's a common misconception, Jeff, I run into it all the time," Don continued. "When I was a teenager, I worried that I was gay; it took a long time to realize I was not and an even longer time to realize being gay was not the crime that my small town thought it to be. Jenny tells me that you're a fundamentalist so you may not agree with me, but being gay is not at issue here."

"Don, I wish I could believe that. I proudly admit to being a Christian, but that doesn't mean I live in the dark ages. When I found out you intended to dress as a bride, I did some research on the computer. It may sound strange, but I didn't even know the word 'crossdress' when I started. It didn't take me long to learn it, though."

"I can't say I was shocked at what I saw, anyone who has spent any time on the net has to end up seeing some pornography despite their best intentions. Look Don, when I searched on 'crossdress' about all I came up with was porn, and it was clearly homosexual porn. If you people are not homosexual then why is there so much pornography with you having sex with other men?"

"That's a fair question, Jeff, and I think there are three parts to the answer. The first part is that there are certainly some crossdressers who have fantasies of having sex as a woman, so there is a kernel of truth in the accusation."

"The second part concerns why there's so much of that type of porn. What you saw on the internet is what brings in the cash, and sex is a guarantee of cash no matter what the medium. There's more than a little truth to the idea that the internet is driven by pornography, because that's where the money is."

He nodded, and I continued, "Have you seen much cable TV?"

"We decided it wasn't worth the money for the type of programming it carries."

"In that case, I'm sure you've seen a soap opera or two during the afternoon. Even if you don't watch them regularly, you must know the typical plots they run."

"I think plot might be too strong a word. Nothing much ever changes in them as far as I can see."

"You may be right. But just think what some little green man from Cassiopeia would deduce about humanity if they did their research by watching afternoon TV. Pretty clear that all humans are treacherous doctors, lawyers, and professionals obsessed with sex and money. For that matter, what would the commercials tell them about our interests? If they watched evening TV they would learn that humanity is composed of young white people with gobs of money who are obsessed with sex and bad jokes, at least the ones who aren't cops of some kind chasing after serial killers all day long."

"See what I'm getting at? We crossdressers run the gamut of interests just like everyone else, so there are bound to be some of us who are willing to pay for pornography. Please don't judge all of us by what is commercially viable, because it's a skewed picture."

"I never thought of it quite like that."

"No need for you to have thought of it at all until it affected you personally, Jeff. The third part is that we're a pretty tiny minority of the general population; there just aren't enough of us to keep so many places in business. On the same note, there's a great deal of lesbian sex out there, but just about every study of pornography shows the viewers are almost all male. I think it's a safe bet to assume that most of the people who go to CD porn sites are not crossdressers themselves."

"So that's how I see it, anyway. If you want details about why men want to look at naked women, or naked men for that matter, you'll have to ask your aunt."

The little skunk! Just like him to drop it in my lap.

"Don, I am not prepared to discuss pornography at a family gathering."

The incongruity of that remark broke the tenseness of the serious discussion, letting us all start breathing normally again.

"Really Jeffery," I continued, "there's a good deal of sense in what Don has been saying. I see no remarkable difference in the incidence of homosexuality between my crossdressing clients and those that do not crossdress. I will say that having questions about their own gender identity, crossdressers are far more likely to be sympathetic with gays and lesbians than the general public. As Don said, we don't hope to change your mind about this in one evening, Jeffery, but I would hope you will consider very carefully whether the image you have in your mind is a truthful one before you act on it."

"You're right, Aunt Betty. You aren't going to change my mind so easily, but I promise to think carefully about what you have said."

"Good for you, son!" Harry spoke for the first time that evening. "I can tell you from experience it isn't so easy to give up the things you've believed all you life, and I have a lot more years on me to set my mind in concrete. Your mother and your aunt practically had to chain me to the chair to get me to listen to them when I found out about Darlene. I was ready to disown my daughter and go after the queer who had despoiled her."

"Father!"

"Good thing you weren't here, Jenny. I said some things you would have found hard to forgive. I damn well needed that week after you sprung that news on me to calm down. The night we came to dinner I was still wishing for an elephant gun and feeling something like Teddy Roosevelt about to charge up San Juan Hill into enemy fire. And you know what, son? By the end of the evening, it was like we were old cronies and had made plans to go fishing together. Once I got past what I thought I knew, reality turned out to be much better."

"All right, I give up," Jeff responded, "I'll think about it. Okay?"

Well, maybe not the tone of voice I was hoping for, but my hardheaded nephew at least seemed to be listening. Time for a break before we hit him with the rest of the lesson.

"Charlene, would you help me with the pie. I think we could use a bit of dessert right now."

So the usual dance of serving ensued, giving us all a chance for some small talk. I was pleased at the enthusiasm that Don showed for my pie. I don't bake that much and to have a cook of Don's stature sing my praises was quite pleasant. When the forks were laid down, Don resumed the conversation.

"If you don't mind Harry, I need to borrow that elephant gun of yours for a minute so I can hit Jeff with the other barrel."

"Be my guest, son."

"Since you and Pat are Christians, we need to talk about that passage in Deuteronomy. I'm not much for theology, Jeff, but the subject always comes up when a Jew or Christian discusses crossdressing."

"Well, it is pretty clear, isn't it Don? When you wear women's clothes it's a sin."

"You're absolutely correct. If you read selectively and literally, the Bible says men wearing women's clothes is an abomination. However, I've never heard anyone who uses the passage to prove crossdressing is wrong remember the first part. Since every woman in this room is wearing pants then the passage tells us all of them are committing an abomination."

"Hold on, Don. I hardly think that pants are exclusively men's clothing."

"Hold on yourself, Jeff," my sister replied. "You're a little young to have lived through it, but when I was your age a woman wearing pants was in for a very rough time. With the notable exception of the Rosie the Riveter and her compatriots in the Second World War, until the sixties, pants were considered exclusively male. Women wore dresses and skirts and that was that. You wouldn't believe the fit your grandfather pitched when I tried to leave the house wearing the new bluejeans I bought with my own money."

"Grounded you for a week, as I remember, Charlene," I affirmed. I remembered very clearly! "Then he turned out every drawer in your dresser to check for other contraband and went through my dresser to be sure your mother hadn't corrupted me with her outlandish attitudes." That incident had been one of the things that drove me to study psychology. Charlene was far from the first girl at school to wear pants, but daddy was an old fashioned man. I wanted to understand just why such inconsequential things made such a big difference to some people.

"Which brings up another aspect of crossdressing that is seldom considered," continued Don. Just what is women's clothing? Ancient Greeks of both sexes wore tunics, so did the Romans, so did most of Europe unless you happened to be rich enough to afford fancy clothes, and I defy you to tell me how a dress and a tunic differ in any significant way. It's only the last few hundred years that what we now call a dress has been almost exclusively associated with women in Western culture. And yes I know there are exceptions, but not very many."

"Until Western culture invaded Africa and China, men have worn garments that could be called dresses for centuries and were never confused with women. In other words, crossdressing isn't such a simple subject to discuss because what constitutes crossdressing is culturally defined. I hope you to give it some thought before your condemn me."

"Don, I'm not out to condemn you but, as the preacher says, 'The devil can quote scripture with the best of them'. What you say about homosexuality does make some sense; and I have to say I wondered how my sister could want to marry a homosexual. It just didn't seem possible and perhaps I jumped to conclusions. But, however you justify it, what you do is just plain wrong. It isn't natural for a man to want to look like a woman, and I can't change that."

"Like I said, Jeff, I don't hope to convert you on the basis of an evening's conversation. What I do hope is that we can agree to disagree and not cause a split in the family I'm joining. I promise I won't force my crossdressing on you. We may not become friends, but I certainly don't want to make an enemy. Can we leave it there for tonight?"

"Perhaps you're right, Don, when I came over this morning I was not expecting to like you, but you seem like a decent sort now that I know you a bit. Let me have some time to think about what you've said before I say any more, Okay?"

"Certainly. I couldn't ask for anything more. I would like to get to know you and Pat better."

That boy makes me proud. He may have been just one of my patients before he met my niece, but the more I see of him the more I'm glad he's joining the family. He handled a very sticky situation with tact and diplomacy, and the family is still talking to each other. Pretty good results for what could have been a disastrous evening.
 

Jenny
"You do not seriously intend to leave this house looking like that!" Lord, I sounded like my mother. "Darlene, a woman of your years does not go out in public with her bra straps hanging out. Especially your wedding bra with all that lace!

"Here, let me feel you forehead. Do you have a fever? Has your brother infected you with his attitudes? You were exposed to him for some time last week."

"Leave poor Jeffery out of this. I told you when we bought our shower dresses that I don't care what the fashion whims of the day are, you would still look downright foolish with spaghetti straps and a bra. Maybe if you were Kathy's age you could get away with it, but you of all people do not want to attract that kind of attention.

"Discrimination. Ageist and sexist discrimination. Just because I'm out of high school and can't go braless you won't let me wear a sundress?"

"Just because you're supposed to be a sensible woman of good taste, you won't wear a sundress designed to be braless unless you decide to have surgery first. If you think you could hide 'em at work then go ahead and do it, but meantime put on something that won't draw quite so much attention to you."

"Yes dear."

"Poor baby. Don't try that sad little puppy face on me. Mommy will take you for a nice walk and even pet you when we get home if you're a good little doggie. Ummm… You can stop sniffing me like that, we don't have time. Be a good puppy!"

"Woof!"

We made it to Shelly's place on time, despite my darling's lapse of good judgment. I was glad my mother was away at some big lawyer's conference, the fitting would go much more smoothly without her. Much as I love my mother, her enthusiasm in planning our wedding was getting to be overwhelming.

Jimmy, or rather Jantina, was waiting for us and Kathy and Aunt Betty arrived a few minutes later, with Kathy behind the wheel courtesy of her brand new driver's license. My niece was growing up. Kathy bounced out of the car, flung open the door to the shop and strode over to Darlene. She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other outstretched, palm up.

"Pay up, Auntie Baby. I told you she wouldn't let you do it!"

Darlene made a rueful face and extracted a bill from her purse. She handed it to Kathy.

"You still look pretty cute. For an old woman, that is." Ah, the insolence of youth.

"Excuse me, darling," I said, "But am I going to have to look up Gambler's Anonymous in the phone book? It seems like there has been an awful lot of wagering going on in the last few weeks."

"Merely an exercise in comparative fashion, Jenny. It seems older was not necessarily wiser in this case."

Before I could rub it in any further, another car pulled up. I haven't really mentioned her before but Amy, my best friend from high school, was my maid of honor. We had long ago promised to stand up for each other when we were married and I had fulfilled my half of the bargain years ago. When I called her and told her it was her turn to make good she could hardly believe it. Why is it that if a woman isn't married by 25 everyone thinks she's condemned to be an old maid?

That had been an interesting conversation. It had been a couple of years since we had seen each other — funny how you loose touch with your friends when they have kids and you don't — so she had no idea I had fallen in love, let alone was getting married. Her response to the two bride ceremony had been predictable, but since by then I had a good deal of experience in explaining the whole affair I was ready with the answers. She agreed to fulfill her old promise, but this was going to be her first meeting with my intended. I hadn't told her about Jantina or Stephanie quite yet, either.

"Amy!"

"Jenny!" (Pause for hug.)

"People, I want to have you meet Amy, my best friend from high school and my maid of honor. You remember my Aunt Betty, don't you?"

"Of course." More hugs.

"And this is her daughter Kathy, this is Jantina, and the last one here is my auxiliary bride, Darlene."

"Auxiliary indeed! You make me sound like an understudy, not the co-star of the show," grumped my darling, not very convincingly.

More hugs ensued, including Darlene. (Whew!).

"You'll have to wait to meet June and Stephanie, since they're in Chicago. Shelly assures me she's working with a shop there so all the dresses will match."

"Certainly they will, Jenny," Shelly agreed. "The magic of the internet, you know. Let me show you the pictures I got yesterday."

Darned if she didn't have a picture of June and Stephanie in their bridesmaid's outfits.

"They look great! You're a genius, Shelly."

"That's what you pay me for. We'll send a picture of you when we finish the fitting so Melinda in Chicago can be sure everything matches properly. The colors should match perfectly since we ordered from the same dye lot. Now, I hope all you ladies brought the shoes and underwear you intend to wear at the wedding?" A chorus of assent. "Then shall we try the dresses on?"

"Will you help me, Mom?"

"Certainly, dear."

"Shall we form a mutual admiration society, Jantina?" asked Amy.

Jantina looked like she was about to panic. "I have no objection, but you do realize that I would normally be expected to wear a tux at a wedding?"

Oh, boy! I should have spoken sooner.

"What?" Amy looked confused.

"Amy, I'm a man."

"Jenny?" Amy looked at me very closely. "You have certainly found an interesting circle of friends since we lost touch."

"Friends are what make life interesting, don't you think? I'm sorry, Amy. I should have told you earlier."

"Maybe it's good you didn't, I would have just called the guys with the butterfly nets."

"You may yet. I'd better tell you my brother in law is one of the ladies in that picture from Chicago."

"What is this, a conspiracy? Are going to have the wedding at a church or the loony bin?"

"It's not that bad, Amy," Darlene spoke. "Granted most people never realize they have even met an accomplished crossdresser, but having other crossdressers in our wedding party shouldn't be too much of a surprise."

"Well, I suppose so." Amy looked dubious. "Are there any more surprises in store?"

"I think we've exhausted the supply," I answered. "Would anybody in high school have believed this when we promised to stand up for each other?"

"I'm not sure I believe it now. I feel like I'm in an Oscar Wilde play: 'The importance of being Ernestina,' maybe. So alright Jantina, shall we do a little improv together?"

"If you're sure…"

"I'm a married woman. It's nothing I haven't seen before, even if the combination is unusual."

"I'm married myself, Amy. I promise to conduct myself as a proper lady."

"I'm sure you will."
 

I found it hard to concentrate on my own dress because I was so fascinated with Darlene and Shelly. She had decided, after much discussion, to wear a corset. After the initial fitting Darlene simply wasn't satisfied with her figure and chose appearance over comfort. Anyone who thinks that only women go to ridiculous ends for fashion hasn't known a crossdresser.

The corset required some padding around the hips and bottom, and it was really difficult to settle the stuff properly by yourself. It fell to Shelly to make the adjustments. Here I was, standing in my bra and panties while a strange woman dressed me, watching another woman playing with my lover's ass.

"That tickles!"

"Sorry, dear. I'm afraid I don't have much experience in padding men on the ass, you know." It was a good thing the corset had not been tightened; Darlene needed the room to laugh.

Amy and Jantina emerged from their dressing room giggling like schoolgirls, and Aunt Betty and Kathy looked simply marvelous together. The rest of the session was uneventful, it's hard to find drama in measuring, pinning, and adjusting a dress, but by the time Shelly and her assistant Tracy had finished, the end product was extremely flattering. I dearly love the picture Shelly took at the end of the fitting, and Amy took a copy of it with her when she left.
 

Don
"Tell me again why we're doing this," I asked.

"Because it's traditional," Jenny answered.

"Seems like I've been hearing that an awful lot lately. I thought we were breaking tradition by having two brides."

"Perhaps, but since you've opted to be a bride you are obligated to behave like one."

"Rats. I'd never be able to blush with all the makeup I need to use."

"Darling, we've done things that would make a Marine blush. If you need help, just remember the time with the goat and the…"

"You promised we'd never do that again without at least three helpers, thank you. Seriously, Jenny, what do we need a shower for? We have more stuff than we know what to do with since we moved in together."

"Be careful darling. You're sounding dangerously like a man with all that logic. Besides, didn't you read the invitation?"

"Why? I know we're invited, after all."

"Hopelessly male, despite that pretty dress. Perhaps you need to go on hormones for a while so you can get into the proper mood."

"I'm afraid that would put a crimp in the honeymoon."

"Better than a grump in the wedding. Really, Darlene, are you going to turn down your chance for a 'linen and lingerie' shower?"

"You're kidding!"

"Mother does have a sense of humor, you know. Just about everyone in the world now knows your measurements, so why not see what our friends have for you to wear?"

"Why not put a billboard on the roof so the entire city knows about me? It would save the effort of locating anyone who hasn't heard yet."

"Well, I did call about one of those flashing signs for the front lawn, but they were too expensive. Next time I do laundry I'll put up a big red arrow pointing to 'Don's Bras' when I hang them out to dry."

"I'm beginning to think being a bride was better as a fantasy than a reality. You wouldn't consider eloping, would you?"

"Not until after the wedding. We're too busy to do anything else until then."

"Now who's bending logic?"

"It makes perfect sense to a woman. Open yourself to the experience of femininity, darling. You will reach enlightenment in time."

"In time for what? The six o'clock news?"

"No, the shower starts too late for the early news, but we can have film at eleven."

"I suppose it would be a shame to waste the matching outfits."

"I bet your mother will think they're darling."

"My mother will be there?"

"Now, aren't you glad I wouldn't let you get that ridiculous slinky number for the shower? Aunt Betty just got her RSVP. You'd better call her up and tell her she and Pat are welcome to the spare bedroom now that we have one."

"What are we going to do with Pat while I'm being embarrassed in front of my mother?"

"I'm sure daddy and Uncle Roger will keep him amused while you show off your new finery to the rest of us girls."

"This conversation is getting more out of control than the wedding. You mean I'm supposed to wear the lingerie at the party?"

"At least some of it. It's traditional! Remember I'll be doing it, too."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I would have a very hard time maintaining the illusion of femininity in the sort of things we're likely to get at the shower?"

"Better wear your gaff. Maybe it's time to add a pair of glue-on breast forms to your wardrobe."

"You've been reading too much CD literature. I doubt they make anything realistic enough for the occasion."

"You're sounding like a man again. Get the Yellow Pages and let's see what's available. It will be my present to you. Now how many people can say their wife-to-be gave them a new pair of boobs for their wedding?"

"Most new husbands do manage to find a set of boobs after the wedding, you know."

"So you'll have a spare set. Don't argue, get out the phone book."
 

Jenny
"You know, Jenny? As much as I love your mother she can be a royal pain in the ass."

"Tell me something I don't know, darling. Could I inquire as to what specific incident inspired this outburst?"

"Would you settle for a range of say, twenty or thirty? I think you would zone out if I did more than that."

"Now Don, remember I'm her only daughter and she will never get another chance to plan a wedding again."

"Jenny, we're long past the age where we need a family to plan our wedding for us. Besides, if she pushes your dad over the edge she might have to plan a second wedding for herself."

"Nonsense, daddy has his feet firmly planted in matrimony. Besides, it's half your fault, you know."

"Blame the victim! I'm calling Aunt Betty…one of us needs psychiatric help."

"Well you were her patient…."

"She pronounced me sane and I have the bills to prove it."

"Only a crazy person would pay someone by the hour to listen to them bitch."

"Does that mean I can bitch at you for free?"

"Only after we're married."

"So how am I half the cause of your mother trying to take over our lives?"

"Because you've given her a second bride to play with, silly.

"And that's just it. This thing is turning into a circus and I don't want to be in the center ring with some dude snapping a whip and waving a chair at me. All I want is you and a judge and a few friends, not a parade!"

"So do I, beloved, but weddings are as much for the public as the people getting married. Talking mother out of renting the entire Vatican City for the ceremony counts as a major accomplishment in my book."

"So she did try after all? The Pope wouldn't have wanted Unitarian tenants anyway. I'll miss the Swiss Guards lining our path to the altar, but I'm perfectly happy with the Roundhouse in the park. Besides, since it's circular the ushers won't have to ask if the guests if they're a friend of the bride or a friend of the other bride. That would be very confusing."

"See, we've solved one problem already. The good news is she's decided not to rent a fleet of limos."

"Why do I get the feeling there is some bad news waiting?"

"Because you know my mother. She's decided we should arrive in horse drawn coaches since we're being married outdoors."

"Isn't that a bit ostentatious?"

"And having two brides is unpretentious? Don't you want to have a uniformed coachman hand you down, veil flowing in the breeze, as we make our grand entrance?"

"Well, when you put it that way…."

"You can always trust mother to have a sense of style."

"What other ideas does she have?"

"Besides the nubile young maidens flinging rose petals, the brass band, and the choir of angels, it was all pretty tame. I think she may be coming around to the idea of a dry wedding."

"Excluding the tears, I hope. I figure she'll be contributing generously in that area."

"Really Don, that's one of the things I like best about you, you don't need booze to enjoy yourself. Lord knows my mother isn't a big drinker, but in her circles alcohol is an essential at any gathering."

"Sobriety is a crossdresser's best friend. There are too many of my 'sisters' who turn to drink to escape their guilt and shame. Not that I haven't been know to knock back a brew or two in my time, but I would rather not have some drunk spoil our wedding."

"Well, the caterer will make up for it. If Gerome's food doesn't take their mind off the lack of booze I'd be very surprised.

"Have you discussed the menu with your mother?"

"Endlessly. I still think lobster is an extravagance, but she's paying for it so we'll just have to force ourselves to eat when the time comes."

"Yeah, some picnic in the park! I still feel a little guilty. Where I come from you serve hot dogs at a picnic."

"You sound like a casualty of the class wars."

"Well, I did grow up in meager circumstances. Big money still seems daunting to me."

"Me too, darling. When I was growing up mother wasn't a big time lawyer and dad wasn't a high powered consultant. I come by my Union sentiments honestly, you know. Now that they have money to spend they enjoy spending it, so try not to feel guilty."

"A crossdresser is required to feel guilty, it's in the contract."

"Then hire mother to break the contract and I'll negotiate a new one. You are not to feel guilty about any part of our wedding. You will be my beautiful bride and we will be the envy of all."

"Okay, I have hereby banished all guilt about the wedding. Can I feel guilty about the rehearsal?"

"Perhaps, but it stops before we get home after the rehearsal dinner."

"A dominatrix for sure. Considering the circus this has developed into we surely need a rehearsal. Is your mother going to rent the coaches for the rehearsal or do we ride hobby horses? We could save a few bucks that way."

"We only rehearse the ceremony, not the arrival. At least it's not a dress rehearsal; you only have to become Darlene the Usual, not Darlene the Bride."

"That's good. I intend to eat more at the rehearsal dinner than a corset would allow. My mother always told me to eat hearty if someone else was paying for the meal."

"Just remember the dress is finished and if you eat too much it won't fit."

"Has you mother made plans for the consummation as well?"

"There are some things that I don't need help with."

"You intend to consummate the marriage alone?"

"I might allow YOU to help. If you behave yourself."

"I think we need to rehearse the consummation so it goes smoothly."

With that I felt the warmth of Darlene's hand on my breast. I liked the idea of a rehearsal. Soon both of my breasts were being warmed by my lover's hands.
 

"That was beautiful, darling. I think we might have to rehearse the consummation again just to be sure we have it right. That way we won't need mother to help us plan for it. I hope mother takes as much love and pleasure from my father as I get from you."

"I can tell you one thing, my love. They must have had one hell of a time when they conceived you. How else could you have come out so perfect?"
 

Don
There was no help for it. Jenny parked the car in front of her Aunt Betty's place and shut off the engine. I got out, squared my shoulders, then realized that as Darlene I didn't want to emphasize my shoulders so I relaxed. Not very much, mind you, but I tried to quell my nervousness. The large number of vehicles reminded me I was about to enter a room filled with women who didn't know me, either as Don or Darlene, who would expect to see me in my underwear before the party was over.

My new glue-on breasts felt weird, they tugged where I wasn't used to being tugged. Under other circumstances it might have been a good feeling, but in my present state they emphasized my lack of natural femininity. I had the urge to adjust my bra straps, they glue-ons hung differently than my usual inserts, but I had chosen a bra with the sliders on the back and I couldn't reach them without looking very foolish. Why did bra manufactures put them back there, anyway?

Then there was the gaff. I seldom use one because I favor loose clothing and consider myself enough of a gentleman not to become aroused by the mere sight of a sexy woman. With my male equipment tightly stowed, Jenny had pronounced me acceptable for the ribald atmosphere of the shower, but the pressure on my crotch made me acutely aware of my masculinity at the moment.

I concentrated on the click of my modest heels as we walked up the driveway together, then gave it up in favor of watching Jenny's round bottom shift beneath her dress. Oops, remember the gaff, Darlene! Click…click…click…ding-dong. She rang the doorbell, and the door swung open.

"Hey everybody! They're here!" Kathy announced excitedly. "You guys look great! I love the matching outfits!"

Well, at least someone was enthusiastic. I did my best to smile, despite the stage fright, and entered the den. My mother, ignoring the fact she had last seen me a good twelve minutes ago, enveloped me in a hug and exclaimed, "Darlene! You look wonderful! And Jenny!" Jenny received her hug too, while Aunt Betty took her turn with me.

"Relax, Darlene. You look fine and everyone is more curious than upset about you as a bride. Just let yourself unwind and be one of the girls."

"Thanks, Betty. I am a bit nervous."

"You're shaking like a leaf on a tree. Deep breath. Serenity, my dear. You're among friends."

I smiled and greeted everyone in my best feminine voice. It was kind of like a police lineup in reverse, the perpetrator was known and everyone else wanted to be a witness. I was very much surprised to see Pat (the female one married to Jeff, not the male one married to Mom) was there. While she hadn't spoken much at the dinner, she seemed to be very much in agreement with her husband. I was even more surprised when she gave me an unselfconscious hug.

"Darlene, how nice to meet you. I've been wondering how you would look."

"I suspect you're not the only one, Pat." The laughter that greeted that statement confirmed it. "Well ladies, do I pass inspection or will you need more time to consider?"

"Careful," my mother warned. "Remember she's my daughter." Another laugh.

"And my aunt!" added Kathy, "who needs to write her name on this paper and put it into the bowl. You too, Aunt Jenny."

While I filled out the card, I glanced around. The older women in nice suits or more formal slacks and blouses had to be Charlene's guests; the younger types in more casual attire must be Jenny's friends, and the small woman in the long blue dress was, of course, Jantina. What surprised me were several other familiar faces wearing dresses, my 'sisters' from the CD group I occasionally attend. I have to admit, I haven't been the most active member since I met Jenny, and my interests have turned elsewhere, but it was wonderful to see them there.

Aunt Betty was probably amused, as with only two exceptions the males in the room were the only ones wearing skirts or dresses. Add to that the possibility that some of those males might be her clients and it made for an interesting guest list. Would one of the notorious party games be something like Guess Her Sex?

"Okay people!" announced Kathy, "It's time to get to know each other. I'm going to be the recreation director for the afternoon, and the first thing we need to do is get to know each other. Pull your chairs in a circle and let's get started." Jenny and I grabbed chairs and joined the circle. Kathy produced a large ball of multicolored yarn in gold and brown tones, and then tied the end to her wrist.

"I'm going to toss the yarn to someone and they get to tell us who they are and how they know Jenny and Darlene. If you're married tell us how long. Then you hold on to the yarn and toss the ball to someone else. Once we're all connected the person who gets the ball can ask either one of the brides-to-be a question until we run out of yarn. Here we go!" She tossed the yarn.

"I'm Terri Littlefield, and I work with Jenny, and I've been married for seven years"

"I'm Marge Collins, and I've known Charlene and Betty since high school. I got married before Jenny was born, and that's all I'm going to say."

"Amy Zeller. I'm Jenny's maid of honor, and I've been married five years."

"I'm Kathy Hewlett, and I know Darlene from a club we both belong to. I was married for quite a few years but not any more. I'm happy to see Darlene and Jenny take a try at the longevity record."

And so it went, the pattern of yarn becoming more complex and the questions getting more interesting as Jenny and I became the focus of the game. There were the usual 'how did you meet' and 'where will you live' type of inquiries, but eventually my 'sister' Roseanne tossed the ball of yarn my way and asked the one that just about everyone wanted to know.

"So, why are you getting married in a dress, Darlene?"

Crunch time. "Because I've been a crossdresser since I was a child and I have always wanted to be a bride. I'm marrying a lovely woman who is willing to make both Don and Darlene part of her life, and I can't tell you how much I love her for that."

She lobbed the much diminished ball of yarn to my future sister in law and waited for her question.

"What's it like never knowing which one's going to be there when you come home, Jenny?"

"What's it like not knowing what your husband will be wearing when you come home? The clothes don't matter very much, I love the person and not the clothes."

The ball of yarn ran out long before the questions did, but by the time the game was finished, the initial reticence of this group of strangers had vanished as the web connecting us had grown. Nice metaphor that. Kathy had picked the ideal game.

"So what do we do with the yarn?" I asked

"We cut a six foot piece of it for each person and you can have the rest of it for Jake." Jake is our cat.

She produced a scissors and we followed her instructions. As we finished, her mother brought out a plate of hot dogs.

"Okay, each of you tie one end of the string around a hotdog," she did so herself, "then tie the other end around your waist so the hotdog hangs at your knees. You first, Aunt Darlene. Maybe you'd better not look, Aunt Jenny, or it might give you grandiose ideas."

That little minx! She tied the yarn around me. "Now, you will each have sixty seconds to collect as many tacks as you can using only your hot dog. No hands, either!" She placed a large glass jar full of thumbtacks in front of me and raised her watch. "Ready. Set. Go!"

"Wait a minute!" called someone. "Shouldn't we have a handicapping system? After all, she's got an advantage most of us girls don't have."

"Yeah, none of us have any experience putting meat in a hole!"

"Speak for yourself, dear," said one of my more adventurous 'sisters'.

Wow! If I thought the repartee in the lunchroom got rough! I'm pleased to report my niece was still able to blush even at the ripe old age of 16.

"Jenny? Promise me that once we're married our sex life won't be as dull as these people's seem to be." I tried to do a ladylike squat-thrust but the darn hotdog swung like a pendulum and missed the jar completely. My skirt kept getting in the way and moving the dangling dog. At last, I managed to bend properly and get the thing in the jar, but not hard enough to pick up a single tack. Kathy called time before I could do anything more and I scored a goose egg.

"Watch closely, Darlene. Let me show you how it's done." It was Jenny's turn and her smaller and more limber body was an advantage. Darned if she didn't hit the bull's eye the first time and get two pins in her hotdog. "See, nothing to it!" She bent again, and by the time Kathy called time, she had six pins to her credit.

"Some of us have a natural fear of getting pins in our hotdogs. Perhaps it's because you didn't grow up with that bit of evolutionary tutoring that you did so well."

"Maybe it's because I LIKE getting pinned by a hotdog…"

The jar made the rounds and the winner was one of Charlene's lawyer friends. With each new game, Kathy made a point of pairing people from the three different groups, which had the effect of erasing the lines between us. In fact, by the end of the games, I had ceased to notice my gaff and the new breasts attached to my chest.

I had to wonder how my niece was able to come up with so many games involving cucumbers, broomsticks, and toilet paper rolls and other suggestive objects From the knowing smile on her mother's face, perhaps, I didn't have to wonder. Do real women do things like this at normal bridal showers?

The time came at last for the brides to officially notice the pile of gifts. Jenny and I were seated together, and Kathy (of course Kathy!) passed out the presents like Santa at Christmas. The bigger packages were no problem; we would be sleeping on some very nice sheets and drying ourselves on great fluffy towels. Then two small packages, identically wrapped, were placed in our laps. We glanced at each other and tore into the wrapping.

They were beautiful. Matching nightgowns of a rich, deep green. They were wonderfully soft and smooth, with an oriental pattern woven into the fabric.

"Whoo Hah! It's Showtime!" came the chorus. "Which one of you is going to model?"

"They're a matched set," Jenny answered. "So we'll both show off."

There was some nervous laughter as we adjourned to the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, Jenny had a giggling fit, and I was soon just as helpless with laughter. "Can you imagine what they're thinking out there?" she asked.

"No need to. I've been thinking it myself since we were invited to this shindig."

We stripped as we talked. I reached back and unhooked my bra, savoring the feel of my new breasts even as their support was removed. Very, very nice!

"Now aren't you glad you can do the braless look? I guess I won't have to give you grief about your bra straps showing from now on." She dropped her own bra on top of mine, and then shrugged into the nightie. "Let me fix your makeup." She dabbed at the seams of the falsies. "Very cute, darling. I like it so much I can't wait to take it off you tonight."

"Careful, Jenny. I don't know the tensile strength of the gaff and we wouldn't want to overload it. Let me help you settle that in." I reached over and played with her breasts for a moment. Completely unnecessary — for the drape of the fabric, that is.

"Shall we?" She opened the door.

That's when it hit. I was about to go parading in front of my mother, not to mention my future mother in law, aunt, and 16 year old niece, in a nightgown designed for only one thing — a sexual invitation. Jenny noticed my absence and turned to look.

"What's the matter?"

"My mother!"

"Who's seen you naked and clothed since the day you were born."

"Your mother!"

"Had better get used to it, because this is who you are. This is part of being a woman, my love, so just think feminine thoughts and let's go before they send a posse after us."

"Nice!

Hoo-Ha!

Wow!"

We were greeted by an appreciative chorus as we entered. I took Jenny's hand and we did a little bow to acknowledge our audience, and I marveled once again at the sensation of my almost breasts as they swung beneath me. Women tell me that having a man stare at their breasts is an all too common thing, but right then I had a dozen women staring at my breasts with frank curiosity. Pat had a particularly dumbfounded look upon her face."

"They're fake, Pat. They glue on so I can wear something like this if you don't look too closely." More nervous laughter. "So what other loot is there to open, Kathy?"

It was a pretty good haul, if you'll pardon the masculine attitude. We modeled some lounging pajamas, and Jenny showed off a piece of pink froth that fortunately had no companion. I felt a bit disappointed when I, at last, put my bra back on, but once I was properly supported again, I could appreciate how necessary a bra is for most women. It's a lot more comfortable, which is more than I can say for wearing the gaff. I had drunk too much punch at the party, and it was a pain to relieve myself and then strap things in again. I left it off once the modeling was finished and slipped it into my purse. Relief!

The party was waning when the males who still dressed like men arrived. I was expecting to see Harry, Roger, and Pat, but Jeff's presence came as a surprise. I would hardly have thought he would come near a shower for a crossdresser. Keeping track of his wife? Not a charitable thought, but most religious types I have known were also controlling types. Well, we were going to meet sometime, so why not now? Except we didn't meet. Pat quickly left with him before a formal introduction, but he surely knew who I was. I wondered if he had read anyone else.

I guess I'll never know, but the afternoon had been a complete success from my point of view. To make it perfect, Mom and Pat took Darlene and Jenny out for dinner and we had a perfectly marvelous time. I wore that spaghetti strap sundress without a bra, and loved every minute of it!
 

Don
The scribbled note read: "Don — See me. GG." After a few seconds, I realized I must be spending too much time as Darlene because all I could think of was "Genetic Girl" and not my boss's initials. Like a good employee, I toddled off to his office and asked what he wanted. He handed me a piece of paper.

"Okay Don, what the hell is this all about?"

It was a fancy certificate of achievement from the people who ran the seminar I had so despised. It certified that Darlene Leget had completed the course satisfactorily.

Darlene! Oh shit.

"Would it do any good if I said 'I don't know'?"

"Only if you sing it to the tune of 'Here Comes The Bride'."

"Well you did say I could wear my wedding gown as long as I didn't make any more bets." Kind of hard to deny the obvious.

"Am I correct in believing that this bride business is more than winning a bet with Cliff? Did you attend that weekend dressed as a woman?"

"Yes."

"Dammit Don, I don't care what you do when you're on your own time, you can play the Queen of the May and dance with the fairies for all I care. However, when you're representing my company, I expect you to stay away from anything that could cause controversy. I think you crossed the line here, Don."

He was right, I hadn't thought it through. "I'm sorry Gene. I thought since no one there would know me, it wouldn't matter. I signed in as D. Leget and thought that would be good enough. I guess it wasn't and I apologize."

"Well, since we won't be doing business with them it probably won't matter, but we need to talk about this dressing business. I told you I didn't like it when I thought it was just a way to piss off Cliff. I still don't like it, but now I need to deal with it as a personnel issue. I'll just ask straight out — are you a transsexual? Is this going to be permanent?"

Why the devil didn't I leave the fantasy of being married as a bride as a fantasy? The reality was starting to suck!

"I'm a plain, garden variety crossdresser Gene. I have no interest in surgery or becoming a woman full time.

"That's a relief. I've been having nightmares about having to deal with people like Cliff if you decided to transition on the job. I really didn't want to cope with that."

I was dumbfounded. I would never have thought Gene even knew the word 'transition', at least in this context. My surprise must have shown.

"Come on, Don. You think you're the only one who goes to seminars? You don't run a company without getting expert advice on how to handle employee issues like this. You aren't the only employee I've had who was gender dysphoric. See, I even know the jargon. Besides, I have a lesbian cousin; I've had to deal with gender issues before. If you need to talk to the EAP people please do so, I will never know, and anything you say there is completely confidential. You're a good man." He stopped for rueful laugh. "Well, good PERSON, and I want to keep you working for me for a long time to come. All I ask is that it doesn't become an issue at work."

"Yes, Gene. I'm sorry I was so stupid, it won't happen again."

"Not a question of stupid, it just caught me blindsided and I don't like that." He paused and looked curious. "You really spent that whole weekend as a woman and nobody knew?"

"Nobody but Jenny as far as I could tell."

"I'll be damned. You must be pretty good."

"I've had a lot of practice, Gene. My sister had me in dresses from when I was a toddler."

"Jesus! Well, it's your life, not mine. Go get back to work, will you?"

I got.
 

Don
After months of careful planning, weeks of preparations, days of consultation, and hours and hours on the phone, it was time for the wedding.

Pandemonium reigned!

June and Stephanie had arrived last night around suppertime and were assigned the third floor bedroom. Despite Steve's protestations, last Thanksgiving that he was only studying for a role as Tootsie, it was Stephanie who made the 10 hour trip from Chicago. It was obvious that my sister June was one of those priceless women (like Jenny) who truly enjoy having a crossdresser for a mate, and it was equally obvious that Stephanie was comfortable with the arrangement. Not much later, Mom and Pat made their appearance and occupied the second floor bedroom, which left Pat's son Chuck (and my best buddy from my childhood) on the foldout bed in the living room. I was very glad that we had moved into the house before the wedding, we needed the room!

Neither one of us slept too much that night, we were just too excited. Too excited to even find time to rehearse the consummation one last time. It was a good thing we had set the ceremony for 4:00 PM, with five ostensible women in the house, there was fierce competition for bathroom time. Pat and Chuck, being men all day long, would have to make do with the kitchen sink or something. Since both were bearded they didn't even need to shave.

If you're expecting a detailed saga of the trip to the beauty salon you're going to be disappointed. Having three makeup experts as part of the wedding party, we had decided to do each other's hair and makeup in one grand session at our house. (June and Stephanie were actors after all, and Kathy had that innate ability of all teenage girls to become a seasoned cosmetologist without any formal training). Our new house was a convenient location since we lived a block from the park where the wedding would take place, so as lunch ended, the house filled with women, genetic or otherwise, who spread out an imposing and arcane array of implements, paint, mirrors, and appliances on the dining room table.

Jantina and her wife were the first to arrive. I had never met Connie, who was a good six inches taller than her mate. As Jimmy he must have had to put up with plenty of odd looks when they were together, but as Jantina the two of them were unremarkable. Connie immediately offered her help and it was accepted with gratitude. By the time Charlene, Betty, Kathy, and Amy arrived, we had quite a party going.

Since I had been letting my hair grow for a while now I had wanted to have it done up in one of those high hairstyles that brides so often wear, but a trial run had convinced both Jenny and I that my facial shape made this highly unflattering. So alright, just say masculine and be done with it, okay? I needed long hair to thin and soften my face. Jenny, who would have looked stunning with her hair up, graciously wore hers down so we wouldn't look too different. See why I love her?

In the middle of this production, the photographer arrived to document the preparations on film. I hoped someone had warned her about the unusual nature of the ceremony, and I was secretly glad the photographer was a female. I didn't really want to deal with the typical masculine reaction to me being a bride at that moment. She turned out to be very good; her images avoided any hint of the higher than normal testosterone levels of some of the wedding party. I particularly like one she got of Jenny as Jantina brushed her hair, both of them smiling beatifically.

When it came my turn to have my hair done, I found it very relaxing. I love the feel of freshly washed hair under any circumstances, but once my hair had been curled, brushed, and the fall woven into it, it matched Jenny's in length, so we were able to wear identical hairstyles. Nothing too fancy, just brushed back and pinned so we could easily wear our veils. So what if the veil is a quaint, archaic custom intended to hide the bride from the groom until the last second and we had no groom available? I wanted to wear one and so did Jenny, so we did.

I found myself brushing Kathy's hair in return, which was a great way to keep my nervousness at bay. Once I was finished, June and Kathy collaborated on her style, which was one of those upswept designs I had originally wanted. I watched in fascination as June pinned and sprayed and combed until the artful edifice was fully assembled. By the time they were done, my sixteen year old almost niece was a good five years older.

Neither Jenny nor I were allowed to do our own makeup, brides have special privileges. Since Stephanie had the most experience with beard cover, she worked on me while June beautified Jenny. I found I could easily get used to such personal assistance; no wonder Lady's Maids were so popular with the women in those shows about the rich and famous. I also had my first experience with false eyelashes, and I'm glad someone else was putting them on. They did look pretty good when I was finished.

Of all those present, Betty was the simplest. With her easy to care for hair and her preference for minimal makeup, she was done long before the rest of us. I was mildly surprised when she simply unbuttoned her blouse, stepped out of her pants, and put on her bridesmaid's gown. The Doctor practices what she preaches, it appears. Since we were all women for the moment, why hide herself in the bathroom to change? I hoped I could follow her example with such aplomb.

I just couldn't do it. As much as I wanted to be one of the girls, I couldn't bring myself to put on my corset in front of them, a task I had left until the last minute out of necessity. I liked breathing, I really did. I cajoled Jenny to our bedroom where she tugged and I gasped until I was properly shaped, at least the padding was now permanently sewn in so I didn't have to worry about adjusting it. Undergarments in place, I returned to the downstairs and, with a great deal of assistance, donned my wedding dress. The comments were really rather mild compared to those at the shower, but my fellow ladies had a lot of fun teasing me.

Eventually, the combing, brushing, painting, sticking, lining, and blending was finished and we were all ready for the ceremony. I started to insert the earrings I had chosen when Jenny stopped me. She handed me a pair of medium gold hoops that matched the pair in her own hands, then presented me with matching bracelets as well. I had never thought of accessorizing together, but my love had once again made sure the details were perfect.

By some miracle, there was time before the ceremony for some group shots of the ladies before the Best Men showed up. That's right, the brides came in a set, and so did the Matrons of Honor and the Best Men. Although we had never had a formal arrangement like Amy and Jenny, I had always taken for granted that Chuck would be my Best Man when I got married. Considering her role in creating Darlene, who else would I choose as my Matron of Honor than my sister June?

The addition of Chuck created an imbalance in the wedding party, so Jenny had tapped Uncle Roger to be her Best Man. This restored balance to the wedding party, in spite of comments claiming all the participants in this unorthodox ceremony were unbalanced, collectively and individually. I think Roger was very pleased, his usual sharp and acerbic humor vanished when he accepted Jenny's offer. You might even think he was touched, but no one had the heart to tell him that they knew.

The men returned from supervising the decoration of the pavilion (how's that for a turnaround?) and donned their tuxes with a minimum of fuss. Soon the carriages arrived, much to the amazement of the neighbors. These new people certainly did things differently, didn't they? Jenny and I were left behind as the rest of the party was taken to the park to act as ushers. We neatly sidestepped the tradition that the groom should not see the bride before the ceremony by dispensing with the groom. We didn't talk much, just held hands and tried to hold down our excitement. It was a calming interlude in a hectic day and we took advantage of it.

I wondered what the neighbors were thinking when the carriages returned and we each boarded our personal coach. Trying to ascend the carriage without bursting my corset soon drove such idle speculation from my mind and we were on our way. The ride was short but beautiful. The day was perfect, the open carriage and the clip-clop of the horses hooves harkened back to a simpler time.

When the Roundhouse came into view it had been transformed with balloons and flowers and streamers and decorations into a pastel colored wonderland. At one time the building had sheltered a carousel, but long ago the horses had been put out to pasture, leaving a large, round pavilion. It was now filled with our friends, co-workers, family, and probably a couple of gawkers, who were all watching the coaches as they paraded by.

The two coachmen circled the building three times, streamers and flags flying, horses snorting, before stopping opposite each other at the main entrances to the structure, where the rest of the wedding party waited for us. With a flourish, each coachmen, attired in tall hat and cutaway uniform, descended his rig and placed a small stool at the side. The Best Men handed their brides from the coach, and the music rose in a flourish as the audience tried to decide which side of the pavilion to watch.

When Jenny and I reached the shelter o fhte
Roundhouse, the Best Men abandoned us and escorted their Matrons of Honor slowly down the red carpet in that mincing step that seems so silly when you practice it, but looks so impressive when you watch. The couples reached the center of the Roundhouse and stepped to their places on each side of the minister. Stephanie and Aunt Betty followed, as did Jantina and Kathy. When they were in place Mom and Pat came out to me as Charlene and Harry made their way to Jenny. Pat grandly offered me his arm, and the man who came as close to being my father as any man can joined my mother in escorting me to my wedding as Jenny's parents attended her. In one more effort to spite tradition we had chosen to have Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey" be our wedding march; sung by Mara, an old and treasured friend of Jenny's family who made one small change to the lyrics… "They're as sweet as Tupelo Honey…"

"During that short walk, I knew in my heart that all the effort, time, tears, indecision, and stress had been truly worth it. I don't think I have ever felt so feminine, loved, and cherished as in those few steps, my gown clinging gloriously to my body, train trailing grandly behind, clutching a beautiful bouquet of flowers and watching my true love approach with the clear purpose of sharing her life with me for ever more. The throng of friends was a blur, or maybe it was my tears, but I had eyes only for my love. We met in the center of the Roundhouse, were soundly hugged and kissed by our parents, and then faced the preacher.

She was also an old friend of Jenny's family. Margaret is a large and earthy woman who lived her faith for the world to see, but never let it blind her to the needs of others, be they spiritual or physical. She had frequently expounded that the Lord made men and women and sex for a very good reason, and there was no shame in love of any kind, be it physical or emotional. Much of my refutation of that passage in Deuteronomy with Jeff had come from conversations with her.

She boldly proclaimed that the Bible was not to be read literally and followed in the smallest, most insignificant detail if you wanted to achieve salvation. She would provide guidance to all who asked and compassion to those who were in need; always striving to show the light of her God to those who sought it. Her only objection to our two bride ceremony had been her concern for what effect revealing my crossdressing would have on our lives and the lives of our families. When she was satisfied we were aware of the consequences and that there was no unkindness in our intent, she enthusiastically became a part of our ceremony.

We now stood before her with those we loved and treasured looking on. Clad in her simple white robe with a bright red embroidered stole, she stood beaming before us.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness one of the oldest and most traditional ceremonies of mankind, the vows of matrimony. However, I doubt there is anyone in this assemblage who does not realize that that these opening words will be one of very few traditional parts of this ceremony today." She paused for a scattering of nervous laughter, then continued "Today Jennifer Rosemary Bosch stands before you for the purpose of avowing her everlasting commitment to Donald William Leget, who at this moment is more properly referred to as Darlene.

"You have no doubt noticed the groom is not wearing a tux." More nervous laughter. "C'mon people, it's perfectly fine to laugh, this isn't a funeral!" The laughter was a bit more genuine this time. "So why is the groom wearing a wedding dress? You can't fool me, I know every one of you is dying to ask the question, but most of you are too polite to ask. It's your good fortune that, as a member of the clergy, I can get away with asking questions like that because most people are deathly afraid of offending someone who is supposed to have God's ear." This time the laughter was unforced. Margaret's folksy delivery and not so subtle humor were winning them over.

"First, there were a couple of bets. One was a foolish bet, made in the heat of passion, that Don would not attend this ceremony in a wedding dress. The bettor proceeded without knowing all the facts, but the bet was made and witnessed. When Darlene and Jenny have their first dance as a married couple, a substantial donation will go to PFLAG. The other bet resulted in the lovely shrimp buffet you will enjoy this afternoon, but I'm going to leave it to you to find out the terms of that one. I'll give you a hint: start with the bridesmaids. It shouldn't be too hard."

"So what was the fact the bettor was unaware of? It should come as no surprise that Jenny and Darlene seldom accept the conventional wisdom. As a Union organizer, Jenny has dedicated her life to constructive social change in a very concrete way. She makes her living battling hidebound attitudes for the good of the people she represents. In the course of that work, she has come to know many fine people who happen to be gay or lesbian or transgendered, and has come to support their very legitimate desire to live without the unreasoning hatred of what we are now learning to be an unusual but by no means abnormal facet of humanity."

"I'm sure you have all supported a cause in the abstract because you felt it was the right thing to do, but when Jenny met Don she soon found that Darlene was part of the package. To her credit, she lived up to her impersonal idea of what constitutes right behavior; indeed she fell in love with both Don and Darlene. She discovered that love is not connected to the clothes you wear or the car you drive or the job you hold. That is wisdom that is as old as time itself, yet we all too easily forget such a simple thing. First Corinthians tells us:
 

Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one;
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
Never selfish, not quick to take offense;
There is nothing love cannot face.
There is no limit to its faith, its hope, and endurance;
In a word, there are three things that last forever:
Faith, hope, and love;
But the greatest of them all is love.
 

As she recited those well known words I gazed at Jenny and she returned my affection. The secret was out, for better or worse. Margaret had revealed it gently and positively. As the recitation concluded, Mara sang Paul Stooky's simple and beautiful "Wedding Song."

Roger ceremoniously removed the ring from his pocket and handed it to Jenny. Taking my hand, she spoke the vows we had written.

"I, Jennifer Rosemary Bosch, standing before our friends and family, take you, Donald William Darlene Leget to be my life's partner, knowing in my heart that no matter your outward appearance, you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life, and my one true love. "

Removing my engagement ring, she slipped the wedding band on my finger, then replaced the engagement ring.

"May this ring be a visible symbol to the entire world of our shared love. Our love may be like the ebb and flow of the ocean, but the tide will always flow, as will our love. In sickness, I will nurse you back to health; in health, I will encourage you on your path.

"In sadness, I will help you to remember; in happiness, I will be there to make memories with you. In poverty, our love will remain rich, for no degree of the world's riches will diminish our love. I pledge to grow with you in mind and spirit, to always be open and honest with you, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

I had a difficult time speaking my vows at first, my throat was constricted and the tears were flowing. How could this wondrous person have chosen me? Gazing at the face of this astonishing woman who would be my wife, I repeated the words she had spoken to me. When I finished, Margaret spoke the traditional words.

"Having made your vows to each other, then by the grace of God and the authority invested in me by the State of New York, I pronounce you joined in wedlock until death do you part. What God has joined together let no man split asunder. You may each kiss the bride."

I did. She did. We did.

The walk to the space we had designated as the reception area is still a blur, as is the line of people who hugged and kissed us. To my immense gratification there seemed to be no real hostility because of my crossdressing, indeed I was hugged even by people who I would not have expected — including several of the guys from work. Miracles were indeed happening that day.

Not that I escaped unscathed. I was informed of my insanity no less than a couple of thousand times over the next few hours, but I didn't care. I simply agreed and promised to tell my shrink all about it when I saw her. By the time the greeting was over, my stomach was rumbling with the smell of Gerome's marvelous buffet. Traditionally, the newly wedded couple is served first, but we broke that tradition, too. Heaping a dish high with shrimp we ceremoniously presented it to Jantina and Connie before filling our own plates.

Somehow, between the incessant banging of forks on glasses and the constriction of my corset, I did manage to do justice to Gerome's buffet. Chuck showed an unsuspected poetic streak in his speech as the best man, while Roger practically did a standup routine on the good points of a wedding with two brides. (Two brides walk into a bar and… I refuse to repeat the rest of the so called joke.)

With dinner over, the band began to play softly, so Jenny and I made our way to the center of the Roundhouse. After a short conference concerning who would lead, we embraced and danced for the first time in our married life. I think it was a waltz; I seem to remember it was a pretty tune. There is a great deal of that afternoon I didn't remember until we watched the video of the wedding. What I do remember is how incredibly good it felt to have her in my arms as we swayed to the music, how right it felt to be wearing a wedding gown on that day, and in that place. We didn't do much more than a very basic waltz, but it was an experience I'll never forget.

Speaking of experiences not to be forgotten, the next entry on the dance card was a fella named Cliff. To tell you the truth, I had completely forgotten about that stupid bet until I spotted him after the ceremony. While it had been the bet that started the whole thing, the bet itself had become supremely unimportant. I rather think both of us would have forgone the dance, but there were a dozen guys from the plant that weren't going to let us. Jenny whispered "Enjoy your new partner, darling!" as she released me and a very red faced Cliff was pushed on to the open floor.

I had expected to enjoy rubbing it in when I danced with Cliff, but when the time came, I was almost ashamed of myself for embarrassing the man. I took his hand and whispered "Do we make this quick or do we give them a show?"

"I bribed the band, buddy. Let's see if you can keep up." With that, the band swung in "The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B". I hadn't seen anyone with a horn in the group, but that clear ringing trumpet was like a call to the races. I had heard Cliff was a pretty good dancer, and I can now testify he's damned good! My arms were practically ripped out of my sockets as we took off and I did my best to keep up.

Have you ever tried to boogie in a corset, wearing high heels, and managing a full skirt with lots of petticoats? How about when you partner is a demon who has something to prove?

I danced.

I danced with a passion I have never before felt. He may have been trying to stick it to me, but when you have a partner as good as Cliff it's inspiring. I focused my entire concentration on him, ignoring the cheering crowd and put forth an effort I didn't know I had in me. I spun with my voluminous skirts flying, ducked under his arms as he swung me about and did my damnedest to match his flying feet. When the music stopped, I was disappointed; that had been one of the most intense experiences in my life!

Jenny claimed Cliff for the next dance and I drew Chuck, who gave me a good natured ribbing. You can be sure that both Jenny and I used our prerogatives as brides to cut Cliff out of the herd several times that evening. If anyone had told me I would actually want to dance with Cliff at my wedding I would have laughed in their face. I may never like the guy, but if he offers to dance with me I'll drop everything and come running, and so will Jenny and Jantina.

There's not much more to tell, except we all had a very good time, indeed. The only disappointment was that Jeff and Pat had not chosen to attend. I suppose that nothing in life is unalloyed joy, and I know it upset Jenny that her brother would not come to her wedding. Even though we had expected it, it still hurt.

It was late when the party wound down, in fact the Sheriff came by a couple of times to remind us of the park's closing time. He wasn't in Cliff's class, but he was a pretty good dancer in spite of the gun and Billy club on his belt that kept poking me. I don't think he figured out I was the groom, either.

We finally drove off for our honeymoon in Toronto, tired and happy. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but as a respectable married couple we've decided we shouldn't go into detail. After all, what would our children think if they read these stories? But I will tell you that all that rehearsing for the consummation paid off spectacularly.