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A limousine was waiting for us at the casino entrance, and I was worried about the attitude my best friend had been exhibiting for the last forty-five minutes. It had taken that long for us to get dressed, a little more formal than I would have liked. I donned what amounted to a really nice off the shoulder little black dress, except it was tons more expensive. We had planned for me to wear it to meet his parents overseas, but Clive suggested I wear it tonight. He was dressed in a navy blue Brooks Brothers suit. I'd never seen him so formal, nor so grim.

"Abby, there's some things about me that you don't know," he started after we made ourselves comfortable in the back of the limo. He made a grab at some of the bottles of liquor and poured himself a few fingers of Johnny Walker Black. I declined.

Trying to make light of the situation I commented, "You're super rich and you're gay. I think that's about the top of the heap for revelations, Clive."

He ignored my attempt at levity. "It's more about my family."

"What, they're Conservatives? I kinda figured."

"No, well yes, they are conservative, but my father is a duke."

I blinked a couple of times trying to make sense of what he just said. "Hold on… you're royalty?"

"My father is royalty: the Duke of Blackburn."

I shook my head in confusion. "So you're not royalty?"

Clive sighed. "It's a hereditary title. When my father dies it means his eldest son will become the new duke."

After doing a quick mental inventory in my head, as opposed to my butt, I added to my query. "Do you have any brothers?"

He shook his head.

"So you'll be the duke."

A little nod was returned.

"Can I call you John Wayne?"

His glare told me no. "I need you to realize something." I gave him an inquisitive nod. "As eldest son to a duke I am given a courtesy title of his highest secondary title."

"Excuse me?" Yes, I am clueless about the peerage.

"He's not just the Duke of Blackburn. He's also the Marquess of Derry, and Earl of Larkgate."

"Busy guy."

Clive made a dismissive gesture. "Not really. Anyway, his secondary title would be Marquess of Derry. Since I am the eldest son I can't be referred to as Duke in training or whatever. Instead they have what's called a courtesy title which is father's secondary name."

"Marquess."

"Of Derry," he finished.

"Ooh shit… your not saying…"

He nodded. "Since we've been married, you're the official Marchioness of Derry."

"Marsh-what?"

"Marsh-on-ess," Clive pronounced for me. "I was going to tell you, but with so many other things going on…"

I nodded with understanding. "You didn't want to freak me out. But with Duke Daddy down the road…"

"Yeah."

Me. Royalty.

The limo pitched slightly as we turned into the Bellagio and proceeded to a secluded area of the resort. "He's staying in the parking lot?" I remarked.

"The private villa. Father must have the most expensive accommodations wherever he goes."

One of my eyebrows raised as we approached. "Holy crap! How much does a joint like this go for."

"$6000 a night."

I nearly gagged. "You're kidding. I know people that make that much for a year of work. Granted it's part time and they don't really declare all their tips, but still."

The warmth of Clive's hand enveloped a good portion of my upper arm. "Can you curtsy?"

I looked back at him. "You're kidding. I'm an American. I curtsy to nobody."

A pleading look came to his face. "Please Abby."

Well, I'd resigned myself to this when I agreed to be his girlfriend, wife, co-royalty juniors. "You owe me."

Clive leaned in and quickly kissed me. "Thank you. Call him 'Your Grace' when you meet him for the first time, curtsy, and then Father afterward and no curtsy… please."

"So it's a one time thing."

"Since you are family, it's a one time thing." The door to the limo opened and a coat and tails butler type was standing at the door holding his hand out to me. Clive leaned in and covertly whispered. "Just follow my lead."

I took hold of the butler's hand and let myself be helped out of the limo. "Thank you."

"My pleasure Lady Derry. Richard Wayne at your service. The Duke and his family call me Wayne. If you require anything at all please do not hesitate to call."

Clive was at my side a few seconds later. "Wayne, wish I could say it was nice seeing you here. How are Sylvia and the kids?"

The butler bowed slightly. "They are well, my Lord. Thank you for inquiring." Seeing the pleasantries were finished Wayne held out his hand toward the front door. "The Duke, your father, awaits your presence at the patio located in the rear of the villa."

Before I knew what was happening, Clive interlaced his fingers in mine and tugged me forward. I turned around a little and finger waved at Wayne. "It was nice to meet you, Richard!"

He bowed slightly for me. "The pleasure was mine, Lady Derry."

Clive closed the door when we entered the villa, but I had a quick question before we met dear old Duke Daddy. "Why'd he call me Lady Derry? I thought your name was Hargrove."

"It's a peerage thing. When we're addressed it's by our title, not our actual name."

My lips pursed. "But I thought I was a Marchioness now."

He grinned at my ignorance. "You are, but the proper verbal address to a Marchioness is, My Lady or Lady Whatever in your case, Lady Derry."

"And you're a lord," I said uncertainly.

"Right."

I rolled my eyes. "You people are really weird, you know that?"

I watched as Clive's eyes tracked to the back of the villa where I could see who I guessed was his father walking around the pool looking somewhat constipated.

"You have no idea."

You'd think the interior of a six thousand dollar a night villa would be swank. Pfft. It looked like both Lord and Taylor got drunk, ate a platter of nine layer dip, and threw up. The walls were wallpapered with vertical green, white, and red stripes, mauve carpeting covered the floor, and topped it all off with rose colored upholstery on the furniture. I'd seen La Quinta's that had more class than this.

Some funky incense lingered in the air that I couldn't place. It was kind of like vanilla and curry mixed together. I swear if the décor didn't make me yak, then the odor would.

Clive took a cleansing breath and regretted it a moment later with a sharp cough. I was trying to stop breathing altogether. "Ready?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was thinking about peeing under his bed for messing up our week, but somehow I don't think he'd notice the smell."

"Maybe on top of the bed might be better," he suggested.

I gave him a smug push of my lips. "If he starts anything I'll excuse myself and leave him a little surprise. You keep him busy."

Clive patted my hand at his elbow. "Sounds like a plan."

I eyed Duke Daddy on the patio and mused out loud. "So, how do you want me to play this: sweet, wide-eyed American girl, or saucy seductress?" I'd turned my head to get Clive's answer, but he beat me to it and kissed me lightly on the lips. I wasn't really expecting that and blinked in surprise. At least I didn't flinch. It was obvious that Clive was full into the part he was playing, which in reflection was no part at all, but his true feelings surfaced for me to see.

What was even more obvious was my lack of obnoxiousness. That's what was surprising me more than anything. Just this morning I was almost ill at the thought of a physical relationship with my best friend, and now he's casually kissing me without any negative reaction on my part.

"Just be yourself, Abby." He paused and I watched him look at my lips. Me self-conscience much? Nah. "Father wouldn't be taken in by the act."

He straightened and seemed to steel his nerve before leading me to the French doors that led to the patio.

What the interior of the villa lacked in class and aroma, the exterior more than made up for in a Spanish style oasis. The scent of the desert was weighty in the air, stroked lightly by the chlorinated water of the pool. The night had already started to cool. I was actually comfortable in my dress, with the occasional waft of wind making its way between my bare legs. All of that kind of shifted to the wayside as Duke Daddy examined the merchandise.

I'm glad I was wearing my Christian Lacroix three inch pumps. Nothing says style like pretty black heels with tiny bows above the toes. The constipated look never left his face. I guess I wasn't blue blood enough for his little Duke in training. Either that or he was a breast man and I didn't exactly fill out the top of the dress in dazzling double-D fashion.

Clive led us around the right where an arched adobe fountain decorated with carefully manicured shrubbery fed water into the pool. The Duke held out his hand to Clive. Gheeze, not even a hug for his only son who he hadn't seen for five years. My estimation just dropped with his dad. He wasn't Duke so much as he was a dick.

"Father."

"Clive."

Ah, the love a father has for his son. Almost makes me wish I had that burrito supreme at lunch so that I'd at least has some intestinal gas to liven up the moment. The thought of that made my lips lift a little at the corners.

"Father I'd like to introduce Abigail, my wife." At that moment I had a lot of respect for Clive. No screwing around, trying to avoid the four hundred pound pink gorilla in the pool. Straight to the point.

I gave the Duke a slight curtsey. "Your grace." There, pleasantries are over and done with. Anything else the guy has to earn. All I received in return was the slightest of nods before he locked eyes with his son.

"Did you think you could keep this from your mother and I for long?"

Clive's face was flushing and the tightening line of his jaw let me know he was starting on a slow boil. "Actually, Father, I was hoping to go unmolested by you and Mother until my honeymoon was concluded. Surely Grandfather didn't have the bad taste and manners to interrupt yours?"

Parry and thrust!

The Duke's chin lifted slightly, and kept his tone nice and even. "He had no reason. Your mother and I performed our duties as expected. Your pitiful attempt to escape to this country and marry the first…" he looked at me, not quiet with distain, but it wasn't far off. "The first, female that came along is unsightly, to say the least. Now I insist you end this disgraceful endeavor to avoid your duty and return home with me tomorrow."

I honestly didn't know what to say. I was stupefied by the unmitigated gall of this guy. Now I've been insulted by a lot of people. You can't grow up in a trailer park and not be insulted at one time or another. However, to have someone, standing less than three feet away from you, look down like you were lint that was better brushed off his shoulder was a little too much for me. Clive, on the other hand wasn't so much a stranger to his father's behavior.

"Insult Abigail one more time, directly or indirectly, Father, and you will regret your visit." The barely contained fury was evident in Clive's voice. I felt his body tensing, the bicep in his right arm swelling and his hands clinching.

The look on the Duke's face showed me that he wasn't finished with the topic, but it also displayed that he was done provoking his son. He swiveled his head slightly toward me. "My apologies, Abigail." Turning away, the Duke sipped at the rocks glass he held. After a brief moment he continued directing his voice to me. "As you can see, Clive and I have a difference of opinion as to what constitutes duty to ones family."

Asshole. "Well, actually I see…"

"Father," interrupted Clive. "You know the reason why I will not marry Serinda."

The Duke spun on us. "Yes." I could see the disappointment and uncomfortable look on his face. "Your sexual…"

"I'm gay, Father."

Dear old dad held out a displaying hand at me. "And yet you marry a woman. Please, explain that to me."

Clive's opposite hand covered mine. "Abby's different. She makes me want to be… different."

A smile rose to the Duke's face, except it wasn't necessarily a good smile. "So, you finally concede that your being gay is a decision of yours and not a result of nature?"

"I'm saying that I love Abby and she makes me want to be…" Clive shook his head. "Look at it this way, Father. I can return home and announce to the press that I'm gay and unwilling to marry Serinda, or I can actually be happy, married to the woman that I love, and fulfill duties to the family as you've always wanted."

I wasn't completely sure about Clive's acting ability, or whether he was acting when he said he loved me. At the hotel I was sure he was attracted to me, maybe even had a pretty intense crush. However, what I saw earlier as lust might have been an incorrect assessment. The question I had to find an answer for was, did Clive actually love me. Was I leading him on, knowing that I'm not gay? I'd said that I'd give him a chance. Now I wasn't so sure. It's one thing to consent to try something new and previously thought taboo to my lifestyle, but I was coming to the conclusion that Clive was not acting and that he was truly in love with me.

The Duke considered that and then looked at me again. The inner turmoil showing on his face was obvious. I could almost see the thoughts of gold digger or ill bred American running across his forehead. What was stunning me the most during all of this was my closed mouth. Normally I have no problem defending myself through insults and sarcastic banter, but at the moment I just felt submissive. It was the weirdest sensation I'd ever experienced.

"Your mother will never accept this Las Vegas wedding as appropriate. It exudes low breeding, and the public will…"

Clive cut him off. "Are you saying that you will accept Abby into the family?"

After draining the last of his liquor, the Duke breathed in swiftly through his nose. "I am saying that we will return home tomorrow and you will willingly participate in a proper wedding befitting a future duke and duchess of the realm."

~0~

Clive was quiet on the way back to the hotel. We'd stayed and talked to his father for only a few minutes more. I guess he wanted to get out of there before the situation turned south. By the time he opened the door to our room I thought something was seriously wrong. Normally Clive is a very talkative person, only quiet during times of silent contemplation.

"What's wrong? I mean it started off bad, but it looks like you're back in daddy's good graces."

He made his way to the mini bar and poured himself a drink. "The wedding."

I shrugged. "So what's the big deal. We go through with it and make them happy."

After sipping at his glass he set it down and turned around. He seemed a little down and reserved, knowing what he was going to say wouldn't go over very well. "It's not that simple."

I kicked off my heels and reached behind my back to unzip the dress. Clive watched my every move. It made me a little conscience of my actions. Making my way to the closet, I opened the door and let the dress slip from my shoulders and caught it before it hit the ground. Being aware of standing there, only clad in a strapless black bra with a matching lace thong was kind of powerful; a stark contrast to the submissive feeling I experienced in front of his father.

"Spit it out. Just make it simple. We'll work through it."

I reached down and untucked myself, sighing with relief. There was only so much realism I could take. It made an odd picture, a woman standing there with a bulge in her panties, but Clive had seen it before.

"In my country, gay weddings are legal."

It took me a few moments to actually allow that little tidbit of information to sift through my brain. Oh. "That would mean…"

He nodded. "We'd be married for real."

The black marabou slippers I slid my feet into eased the ache in my calves as I prepared my legs for coming down from wearing high heels all day. Performing this little action gave me time to think of a solution, which presented itself fairly quickly.

"We planned for me to leave at the end of the summer, right?"

Clive nodded.

"It's not that hard to figure out. Just plan on having a wedding in September and we break up in August. Considering the jerk your father was being there should be more than enough reason for me to realistically break it off."

"But…" the word was out of his mouth before he even thought about it.

I cocked my head a little and raised my eyebrows in question. "But what?" Oh, I was still the object of his wooing. Did Clive think I'd just roll over and be his wife for real? "We've only been officially dating for a couple of hours, Clive. I don't think I'm quiet ready for a commitment of that magnitude."

His cheeks tinged red. There, I'd firmly planted doubt in his head about my participating in his fairy tale ending. Now things should be a little more normal between the two of us. Crossing the room to the bureau I opened a drawer and withdrew my new babydoll nightgown, headed to the bathroom and took a shower.

The last dream I remembered having in the morning was almost enough to make me call the whole thing off. What I remembered was the wedding, a very active honeymoon and screaming Clive's name in the throes of ecstasy. What woke me up was the tell-tale contractions of a warm wash of orgasm pulsing through my body. Sleep-clouded thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to contain myself to no avail. I wasn't wearing any panties with the babydoll so I made quite a mess of the sheets.

The second thing I felt was Clive spooning me and his morning visitor nudging from behind. His arm held me securely in place and our legs were tangled, to my surprise, quite comfortably. I slowed my breathing and closed my eyes trying to think of a way out of my situation. Laying in a wet spot wasn't the most comfortable of positions, and the warm intruder firmly nestled between my other cheeks was more than distracting. I guessed that I knew how my dreams wound up in porno land.

Aside from the awkwardness of the situation I felt kind of… secure, I suppose.

Clive's hand moved slightly beneath my breasts. His body stirred and I knew it wouldn't be long before he woke, so I decided to wait it out and hope he chose to go to the bathroom first and give me a chance to clean things up a little.

"Mmmm," a rumbling came from behind. "I think I could get used to waking up like this."

A sarcastic retort was half a second from my lips, but I held back. "You want the bathroom first? I want to lay here a bit more."

The bed moved slightly as Clive lifted himself up. I felt my hair laying across my face moved back and his lips at my neck. He gave me a soft, relatively short kiss and then ran his tongue along the ridge of my ear. His breath was hot and the cool contrast where his tongue ran made me shiver slightly. A tingling ran through my body and goosebumps rose along my skin. It wasn't the worst of feelings, but it wasn't something that I was used to feeling. I should be the one to do the romantic sexual thing after just waking up. The whole nuzzling thing was my job. So there I lie in the protected role of bottom to Clive's top, previously being spooned, where I was silently arguing with myself about feeling weird over the situation and actually liking the attention.

"I'll be quick, darling."

I closed my eyes and breathed slow and even while he withdrew himself from behind wiggled his way off his side of the bed. My lids resumed their previous open position and I saw Clive in all his naked glory cross in front of me at full salute. God, I couldn't imagine how all of that had fit inside of me the other night, but from the ache I felt that morning I didn't have to imagine. It was a tight fit. The thought of him doing it a second time… it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. I mean I had agreed to give him a chance and eventually a chance would include finding out whether or not I could accept and enjoy having sex with a man. By dream standards that would be an unequivocal yes. But I also knew how dreams had virtually nothing to do with reality.

When the door to the bathroom closed I threw back the covers and sighed at the mess on my babydoll, my legs, and the sheets. I made quick work of stripping the bed and wiping off what I could before leaving the sheets in a ball by the door for housekeeping. I was in the closet when I heard Clive exit the bathroom and ease his way behind me encircling my waist and pressing himself against me with a hug.

I smelled his minty breath over my shoulder.

"You look absolutely gorgeous this morning, Abby."

A smile played at my lips. "Liar. I'm a mess."

His mouth returned to the ear he was playing with in bed. "I like the sleep tossed look on you. It's natural and decidedly sexy."

I'd swear on pretty much any holy book that if his attentions were on a really gay guy or a willing girl that they'd be flat on their back in seconds with Clive hovering over them in eager anticipation. Me? I was tempted to go ahead and try out the sexual portion of our relationship and get it over with to see if we would be compatible or not. Maybe my head was rushing it in an attempt to push him away. If the sex was no good then I wouldn't stay with him; it was that simple. But the one thing that held me back from exploring the option at that moment was, what if the sex was good, or worse, what if the sex was great?

I felt the babydoll lift up and over my arms before I acknowledged what Clive was doing. His mouth returned to my ear and he whispered. "May I kiss you, Abby?"

The warm air over my ear produced goosebumps again and he took that as my assent. Clive left me standing there and circled my body instead, not really giving me a chance to say anything, or at least that's what I rationalized in my head, anyway. His large hands cupped my head and face, pulling me into his lips. I didn't remember arching up on the balls of my feet to meet him, but a slight ache in my toes let me know that was exactly what I was doing.

One of his hands stayed interlaced in my hair and the other drifted south to cup my butt. My brain was turning to mush like it did yesterday on the couch. There was a slight difference this time; we were both naked. Things that were confined before, were loose and brushing up against one another this time. I tried to move a little to change the distraction and wound up lifting my leg along the outside of his.

Clive didn't waste any time bending his knees slightly and lifted me up so that I couldn't do anything but encircle his hips with my legs. Our kiss deepened and my arms moved of their own volition around his neck. His hands, by this time had found themselves firmly grasping my butt and I was losing myself to the moment.

There was no doubt anymore as to whether or not I could be turned on by a guy. The answer was in my body's retractions. I had fully accepted the female role down to my traitorous hormones and it scared me. It was then that I realized that he was laying me down on the bed, with his hardness nestled between my legs. There wouldn't be much more time before the literal point of no return and I couldn't tear my mouth away from his to protest. Or was it that I didn't want to tear it away? He tasted so incredibly good, unlike any girl I had before. Different, powerful, dominant.

At that moment I knew I wanted him, so of course I pulled back and gasped. "Stop!"

Clive ceased all movement, literally froze every muscle in his body as I panted heavily, so turned on that I could barely think straight. He pulled back and looked at me. I knew I was flushed. I was sure my lips were just as swollen as his, and it was obvious we were both ready to consummate our relationship.

"Abby, I know you want this as much as I do," he whispered. "Let me show you. I can make it slow. I won't… I wouldn't hurt you."

I closed my eyes from the hunger and pain on his face. "Please, Clive. I'm not ready."

The mattress dipped and I felt him roll over off of me. Turning to my side, away from him, I pulled my knees up and set my face in my hands to feel the tears that had just sprung from my eyes. I never cried. It just wasn't a part of who I was. Growing up poor and a crossdresser there were plenty of reasons to cry, a plethora of situations that would drive most people to their pillows to scream the unfairness of their lives. I was different. I had always accepted who and what I was. Except I wasn't me anymore.

I had changed once again.

Gone were the preconceived notions that I was simply a heterosexual crossdresser, content to live my life the way it was. Gone was the notion that I had to search for a girl that would accept me for the way I am. Gone was the stability that I had wrought through years of doubt and uncertainty. Because now there was someone that accepted me, someone who knew virtually everything about me and loved me just the same. Someone that was my best friend, a man.

The bed dipped again and his arm took me in, his body spooned me and his soft words eased my pain.

"Shhh," he whispered. "I'll never do anything to hurt you, Abby. We can take our time. You tell me when and what you want to do and I'll do it. I promise…" He sounded desperate. "Please, Abby. Don't cry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you wanted me as much as I wanted you."

I sniffed slightly and wiped at my nose. "I do. That's what scares me."

Clive paused with his calming ministrations and then he pulled me back with him. "Turn around Abby."

I loosened my legs back down and turned over into him, tucking my head under his shoulder and hitching my leg up on his thigh. My free hand slid over his chest and I sighed.

"You just rest. Don't worry about a thing. We're not doing anything or going anywhere until you are ready."

Clive's soft voice soothed me. His fingers ran over my hair, brushing ever so lightly until I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I have no idea what woke me. Maybe I'd finally had enough rest to recuperate from the last few days of partying and stress, but I knew that I felt much better: relaxed, almost energized. Clive was snoring softly and I knew he was still deeply asleep. From the way our room was lit, the morning sun was firmly entrenched in the sky. All was almost right with my world. I looked down, along the body of the man I was cuddled up against and saw that once again Clive was erect.

I almost giggled to myself at the thought that he was always sexually excited. How could the poor thing take it. I mean if I went too long being erect it would hurt. That usually meant a trip to somewhere private and a short bout of masturbation to relieve the stress. However, I knew that Clive hadn't had the chance since the previous day's relief after our make out session on the couch. I knew now that I had been a tease. Walking around in nothing but my undies while we were alone had to have been hard for him.

That time I did giggle, but just for a second. His arm tightened a little on my shoulder and then he relaxed again to continue his cute little snorefest.

Looking down at it again I knew that I would eventually let my defenses fall and succumb to being taken. While Clive was much larger than I was I didn't really fear it like I did before. I knew he cared for me, perhaps even genuinely loved me. The thought that he would hurt me, even with that thing down there was nothing but fear of the unknown. Gay guys had sex all the time. Girls had given their guys oral and anal all the time. Why should I be any different? Why should it scare me?

My brow wrinkled and I suddenly realized that I was being incredibly stupid. Clive was my best friend and soon to be lover. He wanted nothing but to please me and please himself by doing so. Were we that different? Would it mean that I was any less of a man or a crossdressing man if I let him take me? Would it make me less of a person if I allowed myself to enjoy the affections of my lover?

Is this what it's like to have an epiphany?

The tightness in my chest eased away and my heart started beating just a little faster. Looking down at Clive's member I fantasized what it would be like to satisfy him. Nothing tawdry, just one person making love to another. A girl pleasing her guy. A wife pleasing her husband.

I was a hypocrite. Five years ago I'd judged Clive for not accepting me for what I was when he looked down on me for dressing in girls clothes. It was time I judged myself for once. Why couldn't I please him? Why couldn't I just reach down there and do what millions of girls around the world do every day?

My lips were suddenly dry and I moistened them with my tongue, pulling my bottom lip in slightly and biting it in contemplation. Why couldn't I? My hand was scant inches away, resting on his hip, fingers extended when I made my decision.

Barely lifting my hand up, I moved it just over the main portion and steeled my nerve to grasp him, wondering what he'd taste like in my mouth. That's when the damn phone rang! Clive startled awake and I snatched my hand back and lifted my head acting like I wasn't about to go all blow job ninja on my best friend. He smiled at me and then reached over to grab the phone.

Thoughts of being busted made my face go a little red.

"Hello… yes Father… yes Father."

It was the Duke Daddy. Bastard! Just when I was about to get over myself and get down to business. I lay my head back down on Clive's chest and looked at his hardness once again.

"We can be ready in about an hour, Father."

I raised my free hand up and split two fingers apart.

"Better make that two hours, Father."

Before I thought about it any more I set my hand down, but not on his hip where I had it before. My body moved on instinct and I quickly slid down, across his stomach and took Clive in my mouth.

"Father, I have to go. Something's just come up."

Standing in front of the mirror brushing my teeth while I was listening to Clive whistling a pop tune in the bedroom made me want to laugh. I spit and rinsed for the second time, but the taste returned in the back of my throat. I swear, I didn't know how girls did it. It wasn't the taste so much as the texture that got to me. It felt like I had a sinus infection and it was draining down my throat. GAH! Going down on a guy and swallowing had to be one of those acquired talents that you just had to get used to. But I did it! I got through the experience and didn't falter, didn't gag, and didn't spit.

After packing up the rest of my toiletries I stopped at the bathroom door and watched Clive make a complete idiot of himself. I thought he was going to split is jaw open, he was grinning so wide. He was just finishing with his second suitcase when he saw me staring. I rolled my eyes at him and laughed, just a little bit.

"Laugh all you want, my love. I'm a very happy man today. Even Father won't be able to bring me down."

I resumed my way to my suitcase and stored my travel pack. "Don't curse yourself. Anything could happen." Before putting my make up bag away I chose a neutral lipstick and some shine. As I was applying the lipstick Clive embraced me from behind, something that I was starting to find endearing.

"I have my lipstick on. No more playing around. And if you want anymore of what we just did then you have to change your diet a little."

I watched him grin through the mirror before he nibbled a little behind my earlobe. "I know just the right foods to eat, my love."

That's the second time he'd called me that this morning. Moving my head to the side exposed more of my neck for him. What can I say? His mouth felt really good.

Can we say 'uncomfortable'? Fourteen hours in a private plane… fourteen! I don't care how much they say that flying in one of those little private jets is fun and comfortable, it's not. I think I felt every single air pocket the plane hit. The constant whine of the engines just about drove me insane, and the weird looks I was getting from Duke Daddy were creeping me out. Eventually he disappeared into the front of the plane which I came to find out was sectioned off to provide him an in-flight office of sorts. This left Clive and I alone for the last couple of hours and gave me time to prepare myself for meeting dear old mom.

I had Clive go through my clothes until he found an outfit that resembled something his mother might wear. Of course it happened to be my most conservative purchases at the mall. It really didn't matter. I had bought them with meeting his parents in mind. Settling on a loose dark floral print skirt, a white pleat-front lined long sleeve, and dark jacket with moderately heeled knee boots, I looked at myself in the mirror hanging on the back of the restroom door. Smart, conservative, and cute.

It was early morning when we finally landed amidst the mountains. A limo met us and without waiting for the luggage we were off. Duke Daddy was messing with his laptop and talking to someone on his cell when Clive leaned over and whispered in my ear. "You look nervous."

I met his eyes, seeing the concern on his face. "Just a little." A questioning look took the place of worry. "We just graduated college last week. Heck, not even that. And now I'm in Europe, married and meeting the parents of my husband." I smirked a little. "How weird is that?"

His hand reached up and touched my chin. Leaning in he gave me a soft kiss. "Not so weird."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "God, I'm married to a romantic."

Clive glanced over to his father to make sure he was still busy and then back to me. His mouth trailed to my ear. "Not officially, but I wouldn't mind making it real."

I didn't respond. Did he just propose to me? A quick peck on my cheek and he leaned back in his seat, smiling like a very satisfied man. Taking my hand in his, he rubbed his thumb softly back and forth on my palm. It was distracting as hell, but I liked it. He was wooing me. I gave him a chance and it was actually working. Switching gender roles had always been natural with me in certain ways. Donning girl clothes came naturally. Desiring girls never left my personality. Even with them I had always taken the more masculine role. I was always in charge, always the one initiating contact Being suave, even while I wore panties, was part of who I was. Now it was different.

I was increasingly becoming aware of enjoying the more submissive role during the last couple of days. It was scarily strange how much I liked Clive coming up behind me and doing what came natural. Even more so, was how much I enjoyed going down on him. That topped the charts on the list of things I'd never thought I'd ever do. There again I was submissive, wanting to please him, doing something that only three days before I would have sworn I'd never try. The thought of going down on a guy never entered my mind. But now that I'd done it…

A minor bit of pain made me aware that I was biting my lower lip too hard in concentration. It had only been a couple of days now. I'd gone from a staunchly heterosexual crossdresser to an experimental bisexual. What would two months of summer bring? Would I be a proud rainbow flag waving gay crossdresser? Did it really make that much of a difference as long as I was happy?

Did Clive make me happy?

I rolled my eyes again, this time straight at myself. Making a big deal out of the situation after only two days was stupid, I concluded. Maybe I was just experimenting. Lots of guys and girls have one of those times in their lives. They find a playmate, fool around for a while, and then realize that they have bigger things to look forward to.

Satisfied that I wasn't going crazy, I made myself comfortable, which happened to include snuggling up to my best friend. Pure coincidence.

Mountains. They're pretty to look at, not so much to travel on. The constant winding back and forth in combination with the much thinner air was making me sick to my stomach. You can't actually drive straight up a mountain, so they build roads along the side that gradually, inch by dizzy inch, lead to the top. If you're used to living at virtual sea level then climbing a few thousand feet on the side of a big rock is a mite disorienting.

When the limo finally came to a stop I breathed a sigh of relief. It was then that I realized that I was white knuckling on Clive's hand.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." He hadn't said a word the entire time.

Instead he cupped his free hand atop mine and smiled down at me. "It's okay. I didn't mind so much."

My lips firmed and I saw the truth in his gaze. "You're sweet." Lifting up a little I kissed his cheek. The look on his face told me that was reward enough for enduring my attempt to squeeze his hand to death.

His father closed the laptop and stored his cell away in his coat pocket. "Abigail."

"Yes?" He didn't have a pleased look on his face, and I was wondering about the reason behind his uncomfortable gaze.

His eyes shifted quickly to Clive for a moment and then back to me. "My wife, the Duchess, isn't aware of your… marriage," he said with the least amount of distaste in his voice as he was capable. "Would you mind very much keeping it from her until you and my son can be properly joined?"

I blinked a couple of times and then threw a look at Clive. He shrugged and cocked his head to the side leaving the decision up to me. Tossing the idea around in my head for a moment or two I nodded once. "I won't outright lie to her, but I don't see the harm in letting her enjoy her only son's engagement and wedding."

The Duke sighed noticeably with relief. "Thank you." With that he looked at my left hand and I took the hint. I hadn't removed my rings since I'd realized I was wearing them in the shower that first morning. It almost felt wrong to do so, but I slipped the wedding ring off and handed it to Clive. I was keeping the diamond and ruby engagement ring. That wasn't going anywhere.

Clive tucked it away, safely in his jacket pocket before gracing me with a pleased grin. "Ready?"

I nodded and briefly wondered over the perfectly timed opening of the door. Clive alit from the limo and held his hand out for me. It was going to take a while to get used to being treated like a lady. Growing up in America, girls were used to mild forms of courtesy: leaving heavy duties to men, having doors opened for them and the like. However, being assisted from a car or being led around on the arm of their men was not so commonplace outside of high society functions. I had a feeling I was going to be treated like a wilting flower while I was around Clive and his family.

Wayne, the butler was a step behind the Duke, having retrieved the royal laptop in its ostentatious carrying bag while we were led through the entranceway of the over the top mansion built into the side of the mountain. When I say it was built into the side of the mountain I wasn't kidding. The front of the mansion could very well have been missed from a high flying airplane. The only thing that stood out was the large parking area in front, presumably for visitors, parties, or the like. The colors melded in with the surrounding scenery, and the few windows that I could discern from the front were skirted with large metal shutters. It looked like the Duke and his family were prepared for a strong frontal assault. I had serious doubts whether or not a military attack would be successful.

The inside of the mansion was well lit and… big. Standing in the front hall was like preparing to present ones self for announcement at a renaissance ball. A relatively small alcove separated the front door from the main ballroom. A ballroom was all I could think of to describe the gigantic structure in front of me. Everything was done up in shades of white and gold. Magnificent draperies, centuries old paintings, marble sculptures, a light colored wooden floor that virtually sparkled with shine distracted me from seeing a woman, almost sneaking up from the side.

It wasn't until I heard her voice that I knew she was there.

"Clive Talbot Brian Stephan Hargrove give your mother a hug you inconsiderate boy!"

Clive released my hand and enveloped the tiny body of who I hoped was his mother. If she reached five feet in height I'd toss my engagement ring off the side of the mountain. However she was well proportioned for her stature. Given Duke Daddy's average height I wondered where the hell Clive had received his tall genes.

He'd unceremoniously lifted his mother in the air and buried his face in her curly waist length hair. It made me feel a little giddy seeing the spectacle; a son that loves his mother.