Chapter 13
Moving on

  Time flew by. It was a blur of underdressing, changing outer wear and full femme weekends. My masculine interests didn’t completely lay fallow. There were still plenty of weekend baseball games on the tube. I did manage a little fishing. Carrie had seen to it that I had several pair of women’s jeans and flannel shirts as well as a woman’s coat that would pass for men’s wear at first glance. So I didn’t get out of cross-dressing that weekend. I only went once… it just wasn’t the same without Mike along. Lisa still didn’t want to let him out of her sight any more than she had to. That meant mostly work only.

  Life at work took a real turn to make it total emersion. Carrie found several slacks and blazers all with buttons on the distaff side. Combine them with moleskin blouses cut in the Oxford style (Ralph Lauren knock offs) and an assortment of women’s ties from Esty and there I am totally cross-dressed at work. Some of the other guys in my department adopted a similar look, but to my practiced eye, none of them were wearing anything off the woman’s rack.

  The Fourth of July showed up and that demonstrated that Lisa was loosening up a bit. She informed Carrie that since we did the Memorial Day barbeque, they were hosting the Fourth of July. We should come over around noon and stay for the fireworks. Their house was on the hill overlooking Oaks Park and their backyard had an excellent view of the fireworks there.

  Carrie went into over drive to figure out what women’s clothes I could wear there that wouldn’t be too warm. As it turned out, the Fourth temps were in the mid-eighties, so I went with a polo shirt and some knee length shorts. Oh Carrie got me a new pair of Crocs. They were Classic Crocs Printed Camo Slides… in blue camo. While they were still unisex, the two shades of light blue that jumped out at you certainly, in my view, took the “manly” out of the camo and shoved it perilously close to feminine. But Carrie said that if questioned we could defend them as being a way to go along with my quest to recapture my youth and as I said, they were unisex.

  “Hi guys,” Mike said, as he opened the door. He looked me up and down, with a practiced eye and grinned. He leaned in and said softly, “Like your outfit.” He then turned and called out, “Alex and Carrie are here.”

  He ushered us to the kitchen where Lisa was putting the finishing touches on a condiment tray. Carrie went over and gave her a light hug.

  “Thanks for inviting us,” Carrie told her.

  “Totally self-serving, I promise you. I need some help in the kitchen. If you can’t cook it on a grill, then it’s women’s work.” She shot Mike a sour look.

  I’ll have to admit that was his attitude. It had been mine too coming out of school. But it didn’t take Carrie long to dissuade me of that. I got to know her folks and it turned out that Frank, while totally self-taught, was pretty much a gourmet cook and what’s more, he cleaned up after himself. I bonded with him in the kitchen. As I mentioned before, they would host the family dinners and Frank was the chief architect of those meals. He was the baker of the family and did all the pies for Christmas and Thanksgiving as well as cakes for birthdays; all from scratch. That’s not to say that Marie, Carrie’s mother, couldn’t cook. While Frank did a lot of cooking, Marie cooked a fair bit and could turn out a fine meal on her own. But for holidays, Carrie and I didn’t let her take the entire burden. When it became clear that Frank’s health was declining, I took it upon myself to learn how to make pies. I never did learn the cakes from scratch, pies I mastered and now it was my turn to bake for family meals.

  Carrie pitched in and set to work cutting up vegies for a vegetable tray. Carrie had told me that it was hot dogs and baked beans for lunch, and that we were to provide that and Lisa would have potato salad and the hamburgers for dinner.

  Mike watch sheepishly as I pulled the Bush’s Baked Beans out of the grocery bag we’d brought and availed myself of their electric can opener. After I had them in a bowl, I turned to Mike. I wanted to draw him in without embarrassing him. Mike insisted on a genuine charcoal grill while I preferred gas.

  “Let’s get the grill fired up. I got Hillshire Farms Kielbasa dogs and we’ll want to cook them over a low heat.”

  I had been in the charcoal camp, until one year we went camping in the summer during a drought and there were no open fires allowed because of the fire danger. So a guy at work suggested I check out the camp gas grill at Lowe’s. That was years ago. You can’t even buy the one I got now. It’s a single burner, about the size of a small suitcase and can be powered by one of those small propane bottles. I could go on and on about the virtue of that barbeque. Suffice to say that was a turning point in my camping gear. Gone was the Coleman Fuel and pump up appliances I grew up with and I went totally propane.

  Out on the patio Mike and I loaded up the Webber with genuine charcoal, no briquettes for Mike. A little starter fluid and a touch of a match; the usual “Whoosh” when the fluid caught. Now there’s a smell I don’t miss. The odor of that starting fluid as it burns off. That’s why it’s important that you start the grill well in advance of when you want to cook on it. If you’re dumb enough to throw something over the fire while it’s still burning off the starter fluid, whatever you cook will taste like the smell.

  We each took a beer out of the cooler and watched the flames start to die down.

  Mike grinned and said, “You’re kind of pushing it with those sandals, aren’t you?”

  I looked down and pretended innocence.

  “What? They’re unisex Crocs.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I love them. That light blue camo kind of grabs you. Kind of flamboyant don’t you think?”

  I gave up the pretense.

  “I know. Carrie thought it was a good time to push the envelope a little. They really are unisex, but my old male ego wouldn’t have let me wear them, but now… with a little nudge from Carrie and well… I am wearing them. Do you think Lisa will question them?”

  “If she does, I hope you and Carrie are prepared to defend your choice.”

  “I think the way to handle it is to take head on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been reading up on Trans interaction with the public. It seems to be the consensus of opinion that if you act like you belong where you are, doing what you’re doing, then the people around you are far more likely to accept it. I think I’ll brag about my new sandals and ask Lisa what she thinks of them. That’ll put her on the spot. She’ll either have to accept them as OK or tell me what a bad mistake buying them was. Either way, it’s out in the open and the fear of her reaction is gone.”

  Mike looked at me with just a bit of doubt.

  “I’ll give Carrie a heads up,” I went on. “I’m sure that I can get her to admit that she bought them for me; which is the truth. She just called me into the office computer, showed me the picture of them and without asking me what I thought, she ordered them.”

  “Ok, that’ll take the heat off of you and put it on Carrie. You think she’ll be OK with that?”

  “Yeah, we talked about it when I questioned if the color wasn’t just a little over the top. Remember, she’s out to convince Lisa that she’s OK with me expressing a feminine side.”

  We soon had the dogs ready to go and when we called, the girls brought out the side dishes and we all tucked in.

  “Where has the year gone?” I offered as a conversation starter when we sat at their picnic table. “It seems like last week we were hosting Memorial Day’s Barbeque and here we are at the Fourth of July.”

  “I guess we’ve all been busy,” Mike speculated.

  “Well, I’ve been busy,” Carrie pointed out. “What with Alex trying to recapture his youth, we’ve had to do a lot of shopping. His wardrobe has been almost totally revamped.”

  “It’s not easy for a guy my age to be young. I need all the help I can get. But you’ve been super about helping, Carrie.

  “Why just last week, she found these sandals online and ordered them for me. Hey Lisa, you’ve got a keen eye for fashion. What do you think of these?” I held up a foot. “Pretty cool, huh? Not exactly something a conservative stick in the mud would wear.”

  Lisa looked at them and arched her eyebrow.

  “I’d say not. Carrie, you bought them for him?”

  “Yeah, I decided to get some from Zappos online. With all the shopping we’ve done we still hadn’t seen anything that wasn’t a rerun of what he already had. Aside from a new pair of dress shoes I got him for Christmas, Alex hasn’t had new shoes in two years. His old sandals were from four years ago. I personally like them. It’s a whole new look for him.”

  And that was it. Lisa couldn’t really say too much. She’d always pretty much thought that Carrie had good taste and they’d often collaborated on determining each other’s wardrobe to stay in fashion.

  We pretty much wasted the afternoon, playing hearts and sipping beer. We talked about inconsequential things. Carrie and Lisa talked about what they’d heard about mutual friends while Mike and I talked sports. There were some really good games coming up.

  Long about 6:30, we fired up the grill again while Carrie and Lisa went in to the kitchen to prep the burgers for the grill. At seven, we sat down to some really great burgers. Mike and I had been hunting last September and we each had bagged a dear. Mike had a way of turning dry ground venison into really tasty hamburger. It’s actually simple. You just mix in one part sweet pork sausage with two parts ground venison. That results in a really tasty burger. Top it with some extra sharp white cheddar and various condiments; it’s a meal fit for a king.

  As we were watching the fireworks, conversation dragged a bit. Mostly the occasional comment on a particular display. When the grand finale was over, Carrie and I began packing up to leave. One good thing about going to Mike and Lisa’s is that we were a fair bit away from the crowds so there’d be no traffic jam to deal with.

  As we were saying our goodbyes, Carrie brought up the next outing we wanted to do.

  “You know, the Highland Games are in two weeks. We all planed on going this year. I’m looking into where to get kilts for us. You guys are still going, right?”

  That caught Lisa off guard. She looked at Mike and it was evident that mixed emotions were playing in her head. She finally softened just a little.

  “I know we all said, we’d go this year, but…”

  Carrie interrupted, “Really, you guys have to go. We’ve talked about for years. What with the strong Scottish ancestry in both our families, it’s almost criminal that we haven’t been before.”

  “Well I suppose we could go, but I don’t think that Mike should wear a kilt.”

  I could sense that there was a bit of frost in the statement.

  “Well, at least wear some sort of tartan clothes. I’ve looked up the clan tartan online for both of our families I’ll send you the link for the Stewart tartan.”

  With that we left. I was a bit down because of Lisa’s point-blank declaration that Mike wouldn’t be in a kilt.

  “I was afraid of that,” Carrie said. “I was hoping that because of the commitment last year she’d relent and do the kilt thing.”

  “I know, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed. Even before this cross-dressing issue came up I was looking forward to exploring my Scottish heritage.”

  “Well, we still will, even if Mike won’t be able to join us.”

Chapter 14
Highland Games

  A week later, there was a package on the porch when I came home from work. It was addressed to Carrie, from some clothing outlet online. I brought it in and left it on the table. In the bedroom, I began my nightly routine of ditching the butch women’s clothes I wore for work (yes, everything I wore to work these days was 100% women’s – slacks, oxford shirt [blouse], trouser socks and my “Italian” loafers. All women’s) and going total femme.

  Carrie came in as I was sitting at her vanity, doing my mascara.

  “Oh good, you’re wearing a skirt. You need to try this on,” she said as she laid a plaid skirt on the bed.

  I glanced over at it. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a kilt. OK, not a true Scottish kilt, but it will do.”

  I finished up and quickly did my lipstick. I took off the pleated grey skirt that had been my favorite. The kilt on the bed was a wraparound affair. I fumbled with it a bit but got it on. There was a huge safety pin that held the flap back just above the knee. It fit pretty well, but it was a bit loose in the hips.

  “That will require a little alteration. We’ll lose the safety pin and replace it with a leather buckle and maybe take in the hips a bit. Wait here a minute.”

  She went to her craft room and came back with an odd sort of thing. It looked a bit like an over the shoulder purse but it was covered with some sort of fur on one side.

  “What’s that?” I wanted to know.

  “It’s a homemade sporran,” she said as she unhooked one end of the strap and looped it around my waist. She fiddled with it a bit and it ended up hanging in front of my groin, fur side out. “I made it from one of my old purses. I added some faux fur to the front and it looks pretty much like a real sporran.”

  She showed me how to open it. It had a magnetic catch so it was easy.

  “You’ll need something to carry your wallet and keys in. And in keeping with the women’s clothes only theme you’ve been doing, it’s apropos that it’s really a purse.

  “All I need now is the right blouse and a waistcoat and your Highland Games outfit will be complete.”

  Somehow, I felt a little uneasy about it all. Carrie was working toward me being out in public wearing a skirt, albeit a kind of kilt. But no doubt it was a woman’s kilt or maybe just a skirt that looks like a kilt.

  “Is this really a Scottish kilt?”

  “Well, no. I said it wasn’t. I couldn’t get a true Scottish kilt over here without paying as much in shipping as the kilt cost and the cheapest kilt was over a hundred dollars. I got yours and mine both for less than that. The tartan is a close match to the real Douglas tartan.”

  “Yours and mine?”

  “Yes, we’ll be in matching kilts. I’ll leave the safety pin in mine and take up the hem a little. You see yours hits you right at the knee; mine will end up about two inches above my knee. Oh don’t look so worried. Everyone at the games will be expecting you in a kilt and won’t think anything of it. For a husband and wife to wear matching tartan is expected. With yours being a traditional length and mine more of a mini, that’ll be enough to squelch the idea that they are both women’s kilts. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

  In her mind it was a done deal. That weekend, I got a look at the final product. My shoes were some odd woman’s flats in black. Along with that, I was wearing knee socks that folded over a garter that had a bit of matching tartan sticking down on the outside. My top was a cotton/polyester blend with a built-in ascot type collar and over that was a black vest with a red and green skinny striped plaid pattern in it. And I wore a Scottish tam for a hat. It looked a bit like a plaid beret. I’m sure it was a woman’s hat.

  Carrie showed me a picture of a man in an outfit that looked much the same. I can’t say it made me feel a lot better. I’d still be out in public in a skirt and blouse, but there was no reasoning with Carrie.

  We went by Mike and Lisa’s to pick them up. I sent Carrie up to the door while I waited in the car. I was afraid that my outfit was a bit over the top and if Lisa saw it she’d freak out and refuse to go.

  When they came out, Mike was wearing plaid pants and a white short-sleeve shirt. Lisa had on a tartan vest that kind of matched Mike’s pants. I doubt that either of the plaids was the true Stewart tartan any more than ours was the Douglas tartan. Ours was close I think.

  At the games, we found a parking spot only about six blocks away. To say I was nervous getting out of the car would be putting it mildly. Remembering my practice with my pleated skirt, I swiveled my knees out of the car and stood up without much fanfare. I did notice that Lisa kind of gave Carrie and me a hard look.

  Carrie’s vest was navy blue with white piping. But her blouse was pretty much the same as mine and our shoes were similar not to mention the knee socks. The real difference was that she carried an obvious purse rather that a purse disguised as a sporran.

  By the time we got to the games and through the gates I began to feel a bit better, as I’d seen a couple of guys with similar outfits, though I doubted that any of them were wearing the women’s version of any of it, much less panties and cami under, and surely none had a custom fitted push-up bra with a little extra on as well; but I did.

  It was a long day. We made sure to take in the caber toss and the bag piper’s parade. We ate some traditional Scottish food. Can’t say I’m a fan of Haggis, but that may be because I asked what it was made of. But the salmon was great and the short bread was good, if a little plain. All in all, we spent about eight hours there and I thoroughly enjoyed the day. Mike seemed to enjoy himself as well. I know Carrie did and when Lisa lightened up a bit she seemed to enjoy herself. I did catch her eyeing some of the well-muscled guys at the caber toss and other athletic events. I think she had a few impure thoughts about them. It didn’t seem to bother her that they were wearing kilts and that certainly didn’t detract from their masculinity.

  We’d planned to pick up some fish and chips on the way home and have dinner a Mike and Lisa’s, so we stopped and sent the girls in to get the food. It was the first time that Mike and I had been alone together not counting our trips to the toilets through the day.

  “You doing it again?” Mike wanted to know.

  “You mean the women’s clothes?”

  “Yeah. I’m betting that everything you have on is off the women’s rack.”

  “True. I was a bit nervous at first but after getting a look at the guys at the games, I don’t think what I have on was out of place.”

  “That’s true, but that white top under your vest matches what Carrie is wearing pretty closely.”

  “That’s not all,” I told him. “The kilts aren’t true kilts they are women faux kilt skirts. Matching skirts until Carrie altered them. Our underwear is matching as well.”

  Mike just shook his head.

  “Out in public in a skirt and blouse and your wife right there. You do know that you’re living the cross-dresser’s dream. Have you gone out totally en femme?”

  “Ah, no, not exactly. I’ve always gone butch enough that anyone wouldn’t notice without close scrutiny.”

  “You could, you know. With your long hair and a little make up you could trot around in a skirt or dress and no one would pay any attention.”

  Just then the girls exited the shop with our dinner.