A chance encounter in the laundry room leads two lonely people into something far beyond what either could imagine. All it takes is a sense of curiosity, an open mind and a bit of unrequited lust.

(The Darlene saga was my first attempt at writing fiction that wasn't purely sexual. By the time I finished the series the sex scenes were mostly a distraction that didn't contribute to the story. So here is the R rated version of how Darlene and Jenny found each other.)

Darlene's Weekend

By Ricky

Living in an apartment complex gives you a great opportunity for people watching. My unit faces the parking lot, so I get to see just about everyone who lives here while they seldom see me. There’s one young couple that must be newlyweds, they are constantly kissing, holding hands and petting each other. Must be nice, I've been living alone for longer than I like to contemplate. Then there’s an older gentleman who unfailingly fires up his BBQ smoker all summer long, rain or shine. Being an assertive woman, I long ago managed to walk by at the right moment and make adoring comments about how good it smelled. I've shared a few meals with him and his wife and it tastes just as good as it smells!

There are a couple of middle aged guys who ride big hogs but dress like businessmen. It didn't take much to convince them to take me along for a ride. I love the feeling of leather against my breasts and my hair flying free in the wind. Too bad they were partners, my breasts against Tim's back might have lead to something interesting.

There were a few young families, a sprinkling of career women and not a few good looking guys living here. There were two who drew my attention. Charlie, who I usually saw as he went jogging, had a nice bod and good moves. We dated a couple of times but nothing much happened, so we wave at each other in passing.

Then there was Don. We had crossed paths in the occasionally and he seemed pretty nice. His sardonic sense of humor was much like mine and he held his own in the spontaneous punning contest we fell into one evening in the parking lot. I thought he lived alone, and I had occasionally indulged in some flights of fantasy with him in a starring role. If my reaction makes you think I had been living alone for too long you’re right on the first guess. Erotic stories and a dildo only go so far, my horns were getting long enough to leave scratches in the floor. The problem is I am not into one night stands, what with AIDS and all, and in any case I like my sex to be a lot more personal and connected than trolling the bars.

Not that I haven't made exceptions, but he had better be willing to use a condom or he isn't going to share my bed. He had better leave me feeling right before he I'll roll over and open my legs for him.

Does that make me sound like a pushy broad? It's a title I have come by honestly. See, I'm a Union Organizer; not only do I have to fight Management Jerks I have to contend with the misogynist Union Jerks who think a woman can't hold an opinion or hold her own in a fight. I've managed to show both sets of jerks they're wrong and I love what I do, but living alone is lonely! The occasional fling helps but it ain't what I'm after in the long term.

When Don had been there about a month I started to notice a woman using into his car every once in a while. There something about the way she moved, and the fact that I only saw her on weekends that aroused my curiosity. Were they an 'item' or what?

I will also admit that I am an accomplished snoop, so one evening when I was in the basement doing laundry I noticed Don's basket on top of one of the washers. I didn't hear anyone else around so I lifted the top of the washer and took a look. Rats, skirts and bras along with the jeans and towels. She must be living with him, at least part time. She had better teach him how to do laundry the right way or her pretty things were going to be ruined. Lingerie with blue jeans, fer cryin' out loud!

Serves me right for snooping, there goes another fantasy down the drain with the laundry suds.

So anyway, I was down in the laundry room very late one Friday evening when Don came down to empty his dryer. Doing your laundry in public can be a bit embarrassing, after all who wants the world to know what kind of underwear you prefer or if there are holes in your socks. (Yes I appreciate the irony of my snoopy self thinking like that!) He was dressed in shorts and T-shirt, which let me see that his legs were sexy as hell. We talked a bit while he waited for the dryer to finish. Even knowing he had a live in lady I flirted shamelessly while we waited for the buzzer. Was he starting to look interested? I didn’t' want to screw up his romance, but I couldn't help myself. I had decided he was definitely interested when the sharp wail of the buzzer distracted him. He started filling his basket and, again to my disappointment there were several bras and panties among the clothes.

Damn, so much for my flirting. I bet his lady fair wouldn’t be too pleased that he was wrecking her bras. Putting a bra in the dryer wrecks the elastic. I hate it when my tits flop around, but I suppose that doesn’t seem like a disadvantage from a male point of view.

As he bent over the dryer I saw the outline of a bra beneath his shirt and suddenly something went "CLICK" in my head! Could it be that the stud of my fantasies was also the mystery woman? When he turned around I mentally put a wig on his head and I had no doubts left, so by the trite expedient of pretending to trip I knocked over his basket while dumping mine. As we sorted things out I noticed the practiced way he folded my underwear. I handed him back one of his bras and asked him why put it in the dryer, pointing out the puckered straps on the one he was wearing. I swear he looked like an 8 year old with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It’s OK, in fact you look kind of cute when you get dressed up." All right, it wasn’t a huge lie and I didn’t want to scare him off. "I wondered who the lady was that was driving your car, but didn’t realize it was you until just now."

The 8 year old regressed to a 3 year old with great shining eyes who had discovered something new and amazing. With a little bit of finesse and some unexpected but not uninteresting revisions, I might be able to turn my idle fantasies into reality after all.

Back then I had been reading some erotic fiction when my lust got too strong to resist, Penthouse Forum was just about right for my tastes, and some of those stories I had been reading starred crossdressers. Some of them were, I admit it, really hot. I decided to go for broke.

"Hey, you want to come up for a cup of coffee, I have decaf if you want to get to sleep tonight."

I didn’t quite flutter my eyelashes or stare longingly into his face, but when I want to let a man know I am interested the message usually gets across.

I took him back to my place and fed him, which is always a good way to start a seduction. Somehow I forgot to flirt, because when I asked him about why he liked to wear women’s clothes I inadvertently opened the floodgates. The ice cream grew warm and the coffee got cold as he tried to tell me about his crossdressing. As he spoke something strange happened - I recognized someone with a loneliness much like mine. As he spoke began to feel understand his need. His love for bras brought back the incredible excitement of my first training bra.

"You know, I have always been a tomboy." I told him. "My mother had to practically force me into a dress on Sunday mornings to go to church. I lived in jeans a baseball cap for days at a time, and even today I only wear skirts once in a blue moon. Even so, I still remember when my mother bought me my first training bra. She made me wait until I was 11 years when most of my friends had been wearing them forever. I didn't need one, but I was sure my mother wanted to keep me a baby until I was an old hag, never to experience womanhood. She may have been right but I didn't care!

I was so excited I could hardly stand it! I think I needed that bra just as much as you do. I didn’t have any tits, there was nothing for it to support, but it was my passport into womanhood. It made me one of the big girls, one of the special ones."

His eyes were shining once again, and I knew we had shared something special.

"So, can I see it?"

The kid with the cookie jar was back for a second, but by then we had started to trust each other.

"It figures.," he said, "The first time anyone has ever seen me in my bra and its one of the oldest, ugliest ones I own. Well, just remember you asked!"

He skinned off his shirt and let me see. He was right, I would have thrown it away long ago. The straps were puckered, the elastic shot and it was a bit too small for him. The band had pulled up almost to his nipples and the cups fluttered loose..

"The darn thing rides up without the breast forms in it." He tugged it down a bit. "I've been dying to do that for quite a while, but I didn’t want to do anything to offend you."

"Offend me? Tug all you want, it won’t bother me. You know, we ought to get you a new bra that fits properly. Just a second."

I dug through the sewing drawers and came up with a tape measure. Standing behind him I pulled the tape around his chest, an awkward method of measuring with my breasts pressed against his back, but it had definite advantages for me. Forty inches for the band. I started to wonder about some other measurements.

What a perfect excuse to run my hands over his body as I figured his sizes. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the empty cups of his bra and the pecs beneath them. His hips were very slim, not feminine at all, but I took my time with the tape. Since I was kneeling behind him I couldn't see his cock, but his ass was alive under the shear fabric of the panties. What the hell, I went for broke and turned him around to face me.

"Turn around and let me measure your inseam."

Yeah, right, brilliant conversation. Why the hell did I need to measure an inseam? Not to fit a bra, but when my hand touched his balls his panties quickly became too small to contain him. I pulled down the waistband and couldn’t resist measuring one more part of his body.

Not spectacular, but nicely thick and certainly long enough for what I had in mind. If only I had the foresight to have a few condoms around the place it would have been perfect, but we managed quite nicely without taking a chance on pregnancy. I think he was disappointed when I barred entry without protection, but he was gracious about it. His fingers are very talented, I might add!

My horns were trimmed and loneliness banished right there on the carpet. When we were finally satisfied I couldn't support myself over him any longer and rolled to the living room floor beside him. We shared a kiss and a luxurious time just holding each other. After a while we realized that no matter how great the lovemaking, the floor starts to get too hard to keep laying there.

"You could get your nightgown out of the laundry basket and spend the night with me if you want. I think I would really enjoy that."

So much for my resolve about one night stands. Only one thing to do about it - make sure we spent more than one night together. With an adequate supply of condoms handy!

The next morning I woke to the lovely feeling of someone else in the bed with me. I was sorely tempted to start another round then and there, but once again I bemoaned the lack of contraception. I would have to go shopping quickly and rectify this woeful lack. I may be horny, but I’m not going to get pregnant or catch some social disease. I got up and started breakfast while he continued to snooze. He made quite a sight, stumbling into my kitchen in his nightgown, hair flying wildly and sleep still in his eyes. I plied him with coffee and pancakes until his conversation started to make sense.

"If you want to get dressed I could help you pick out a new bra to show off for me. There are some things I need to pick up this morning." Yeah, condoms and foam so I could wake up with him tomorrow and stay in bed.

Boy, did we have fun! The last time I bought a bra I ran in to the store, grabbed the first couple that were my size and that was that. After all, the damn things were just something to keep my breasts from flopping. With no one in my life to appreciate the design or take it off of me it really didn’t matter.

We browsed through the rainbow colored selections, looking for something he would appreciate. I took rather sedate black bra off the hook and held against me.

"What do you think? Is this too plain for your taste?"

He looked surprised. I guess he had never been asked to comment on a bra in public before.

"I know just what you would like to do with this, don’t I?" I took another one off the rack, this one with a plunging neckline and a very thin strap.

"Maybe this is more to your taste. Sexy enough for you?"

I spun around holding it to my breasts, and caught a glimpse of the sales clerks. They seemed to be enjoying the show so I took down a lacy red underwire number.

"I bet you can’t wait to get into this one, but you’re going to have to wait until we get home! Maybe you’d like this little thing here. See, Velcro! It’s easy to get on… and off."

This was all kinds of fun. With just the right phrasing I could invite him to try on the bra while the clerks naturally assumed I would be the intended wearer. I went over to the counter, prospective purchases in hand.

"If there’s no one in the changing room, is it OK if my friend helps me try these on?"

That got a good laugh, but they said yes. It was a tight fit, but once inside the booth I pulled off his shirt and helped him put the first one on. A perfect fit, too bad we didn't have anything to fill the cups. I was surprised at how sexy it felt to put my arms around him and hook up his bra. Very stimulating for both of us, especially when he tried on the matching panties. I reached inside the waistband and gave him a couple of strokes and once again he began to grow for me.

I couldn't believe how wanton I had become over this stranger, but here I was behaving like a giddy teenager. I skinned off my own shirt and invited him to unsnap my bra so I could try on one myself. We spent some time trying the rest of the clothes on and gathered our purchases. Did it surprise the clerk that we paid separately, and that each of us bought a matching bra and panty set in different sizes? If it did she was professionally oblivious, but I wondered what they would be saying after we left.

On the way back I picked up a tube of foam and a pack of condoms at the drugstore, ducked into at my place where I threw a few things into a bag and then went to his apartment. I was feeling pretty proud of myself, an assertive woman in charge of the situation and getting just what I wanted. I suppose it served me right when, once we entered his apartment, he appropriated the dominant role.

We had some slippery fun sharing a shower in preparation for our lingerie, then he offered to shave my legs. Shave my legs? Good grief, I wasn’t sure if this was the most romantic thing I had ever heard or he was a complete wacko! He ran his hands slowly down my thighs and my resistance vanished.

"I’m yours, do with me as you will. Command me and I will obey, noble sir!"

He filled the tub with bubbles and ushered me in. If you have never had someone caress your legs while spreading shaving cream over them you are missing one of life’s premier experiences. His strong hands slid over my leg until it was coated with white foam, then with sure strokes he skillfully plied the blade, curls of foam skating beside the razor as he swiftly denuded my legs one after the other. A squirt of cream, a dexterous swipe and my underarms were smooth.

Now it was his turn, and it was almost as much fun to shave him as it was to be shaved. First the legs, then the pits, then squirt, swish and the arm hair was gone. He did his own face, so I watched fascinated as he methodically cleared his cheeks, worked down the neck and even shaved his chest. I hadn’t realized just how much work it took for a man to look like a woman. In the stories it seemed so easy and simple. He was grinning as he applied some magic potion to his face.

We retired to the bedroom where he pulled out a drawer and took out a roll of surgical tape.

"There’s an old saying: ‘Those who love sausage and law would do well not to watch either being made.’ Mark Twain, I think. That goes for transforming me into something like a woman. Well, here goes."

He pulled off a length of tape and proceeded to squeeze his pecs together and tape them in place. Ouch! A second strip and there was a distinct furrow in his chest. He deftly wrapped the bra around himself and snapped the hooks together. With a practiced gesture he spun the bra so the clasp was in back, shrugged his arms through the straps and settled it in place. From another drawer he, or maybe I should start saying ‘she’ at this point, removed a pair of breast forms. She handed me one and I curiously held the shimmering object. It wiggled with a life of its own, quivering in my hand, growing swiftly warm. I pulled back the cup of her bra and dropped it in, where it was quickly joined by its twin. They settled at the bottom of the cups and Darlene now had a modest cleavage. Amazing! With a rueful grin she inserted two thin pads behind the breast forms.

"Whoever said ladies don’t sweat never had to wear breast forms on a summer day. I love wearing a bra, but it doesn’t feel so good when it’s soaked and dripping. I made the pads myself, they help keep things under control"

Next came an odd garment, which I found out was a cincher. Pulling the strings tight, my new friend gained a more feminine figure. Once more to the drawers for stockings and garters. I had never even seen a garter with my own eyes, let alone someone wearing one! Seeing my look of surprise he told me they were much easier on his balls than pantyhose. Next the new panties, and a voluminous half skirt that made her look like she had hips.

I was amazed at the contents of closet. From the ratty bra I had expected to see a collection of castoffs and thrift store specials. Instead I was treated to a dazzling array of clothes ranging from prim pantsuits to ball gowns, peasant blouses to summer frocks. In deference to the sunny day, she brought out a white flowered sundress for herself and handed me a beautifully embroidered peasant blouse. Holding up two skirts she gave my choice. Laying them on the bed and picked up my new bra.

"I know the clothes are a bit big, but they should look pretty good on you. Oh, yeah. I go by ‘Darlene’ when I dress this way."

That last was said in a new voice. It wasn’t all that different than his normal speaking voice, but there was something indefinably feminine about it.

"I think that all the hours of voice coaching were worth it, weren’t they? When I started to go out in public I realized I had to learn to speak more like the woman I portrayed or pretend to be deaf."

I stood there bemused as she slid my bra over my arms and secured it behind my back. I lay on the edge of the bed and she threaded my panties over my toes, then rolled my pantyhose over my newly shaven legs. She sat me down at the makeup table, pulled back my hair and set to work with moisturizers, lotions and powders. I don’t usually do much with makeup. It was truly strange to have someone painting my face, but I really enjoyed it. When at last I opened my eyes I was amazed. It didn’t really look like I was wearing makeup, but my face glowed, my lashes were long and luxurious and I was very different from my usual self. With comb, brush and curling iron she stroked my hair to a lustrous sheen and fixed it with a gorgeous carved, wooden butterfly pin.

Shooing me out of the chair my new lover started in on herself, explaining about beard cover and the tricks she employed. Her makeup was more obvious than mine, but still not garish. Settling a mass of soft, brown curls over head she made a quick strokes of the brush and an unremarkable woman stood before me, ready for an afternoon walk in the park. Slipping on a pair of soft flats she turned to me.

From a massive jewelry box she extracted two earrings. They were long and dangling, almost like miniature wind chimes. With a kiss she slipped them into my ears, then encircled my arm with several jangling bracelets. For herself she selected modest gold hoops and a green stone that dangled in her cleavage. Lifting the sundress over her head she wriggled into it.

"Not bad, don’t you think? If you don’t get dressed before we leave I think I could guarantee no one would look at me, but it might be a bit difficult on you."

So it was I found myself walking in the park with my girlfriend. We strolled, rode the merry-go-round, sat on the park bench and talked, perfectly ordinary things that seemed special today. As we sat on the bench, an older couple kept glancing at us curiously.

"You get used to curious people when you go out dressed up," Darlene said in a low voice. "I usually just ignore them but today I feel like giving them a show."

With that she leaned over and kissed me full on the lips. The old couple weren’t the only ones to be surprised, but as her tongue slid between my lips I returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing to worry about, folks, just two brazen dikes making out in public. I felt a shameless, wanton hussy and I loved every lingering minute of that kiss! The couple was retreating rather swiftly when we broke from our embrace. Holding hands we strolled in the opposite direction, enjoying the warm afternoon in the park. There was an occasional curious glance at Darlene, but she was so comfortable in her role, so utterly unremarkable that no one paid us any serious attention.

"So, girlfriend", I asked, "want to go to a movie? Do you get into Chick Flicks when you’re dressed up or do you secretly want to watch someone blow up a building and race away in a sporty little car with half of California in hot pursuit?"

"Lord preserve me from either! Do you have any idea what would happen to my makeup if I started to cry? Nothing sloppy, and even as Don I wouldn’t go to one of those asinine shoot-em-up clinkers. Actually I was planning so go down to the dollar movies and see the "Pink Panther" before I met you."

I knew right then it had to be fate. Anyone who gets off on Peter Sellers is all right with me. We had such a good time that we didn’t even mess around in the dark, but watched the movie and hissed "I love this next bit!" at each other to the annoyance of our fellow movie buffs. Afterward, we ate at a little café near the theater, still recounting our favorite scenes from the Panther movies.

"You know," I said to Darlene, "I never did ask, but I hope I haven’t ruined your plans for the weekend."

"You may lead to my ruination if we keep this up, but other than the movie all I had in mind was to dress up and sit in front of my computer and play on the net. You, my dear, are a most refreshing surprise in my otherwise humdrum life!"

"Go ahead and pile it higher! I don’t believe a word of it, but keep it up for a while longer. I have to visit my family tomorrow, but until then what are we going to do?"

"I hate to bring us back to reality, but I think I’ve had enough time with this cincher squeezing me. Us part time women have a constant struggle between beauty and reality, you know.

We returned to his apartment and I let her get through the door of her bedroom before I attacked. Standing behind Darlene I cupped her breasts in my hands, pressing my own against her back. It was the oddest sensation, knowing I held a man who could drive me wild with pleasure, yet I had spent the day with him my girlfriend. I lowered my hand to pinch her rear, but the padding defeated me.

Let's just say that Darlene is as good a lover as Don, even if my sample size was too small to conduct a definitive survey. Darlene finally had the chance to loosen the cincher we had come here to remove and, unloading her bra she slowly peeled the surgical tape from her chest and sighed.

"Free at last. Free at last. Lord Almighty, free at last."

With a couple of activists for parents I had heard that line all my life, but never is such a context. She settled the bra back in place and returned the forms before laying down beside me. I lay there with her warmth beside me, in a pleasant postcoital fog, when the surreal quality of the whole situation suddenly struck me.

"So that’s what its like to be screwed by a guy in a dress." I mused. "You know, I had some very sexy fantasies about you, but this sure wasn’t one of them."

"Well, to tell the truth I had only fantasized about doing it while wearing a dress. You sure know how to make a dream come true. It was just as good as I had wanted it to be. You know, I almost didn’t want to do it because I was afraid you would freak or something would go wrong and we would end up hating each other."

"I know what you mean. I was a little scared too, but I’ve wanted to get you into bed for quite a while and it really didn’t matter what you were wearing. In fact, after spending the afternoon with you as my girlfriend I was getting very curious as to what would happen. It’s not like I’ve had a parade of lovers, but I never thought I’d meet a man who would use a condom without being asked, let alone thinking of the foam while he was getting ready to fuck. I usually have to sneak off and put it in beforehand and hope he isn’t going to want to eat me. It’s kind of sexy to have you do it without even being asked."

"All part of our complete service package, madam. Would you care to join me in the shower? Sleeping in makeup is not a good way to start a relationship, you know. Also, if you act now I will provide, free of charge, a toothbrush and nightgown as part of our all inclusive, Gold Star Customer Service Plan. A free continental breakfast is included with the accommodations as well."

How could I refuse?

It had been some time since I roused with anyone in the bed with me. I came awake to the much loved feeling of an arm around me, then wiggled my ass a bit to let him know I was awake. Things were starting to get interesting when I caught a glimpse of the clock.

"Uh, Don…"

"Mmmmf"

"Darlene, honey? That feels awfully good but I uh…"

Awfully good hell, his cock was poking me right in the ass.

"I promised my folks that I would go to church with them this morning. It’s something I have to do once in a while to keep peace in the family. There’s some big event my mother is working on and I promised I would help her. "

"Ah, a beautiful woman and a dutiful daughter besides. Your parents must be so proud."

How did he get so damn hard so fast? It wasn’t fair!

"Don, I gotta get up. Now."

"Duty before pleasure, is it? Oh well, there’ll be other times." There was a cold place on my ass as he rolled away.

"You’re not mad, are you?"

"After the day you gave me yesterday, how could I be mad? You are the most wonderful person I have ever slept with, gone to the movies with or just plain had fun with."

"Pile it on, baby, pile it on. I love it." I did love it, but I had a question.

"Darlene? You want to go to church with me?

Silence.

More silence. I rolled over and looked at him.

"You really want me to go to church with you? As Darlene? And meet your parents?"

"Hey — they’re Unitarians, if they figured it out you would probably end up being drafted to teach a class in diversity or sensitivity or something. I’m sure you can do it, you were so natural yesterday. Besides, if I brought Don she’d have us engaged before the service finished and married off sometime around dinner. With a minister being so handy you could be in deep trouble. My mother doesn’t really approve of her thirty-something daughter being single, you know."

"Whew, that’s a relief. When a woman wants to introduce me to her parents after two days of acquaintance, no matter how intimate, it could get a fella worried."

"After that kiss on the park bench yesterday, maybe you’d better start worrying about a two bride ceremony. Can I pick out your dress if I let you pick out mine?" I could start working on the minister this afternoon and see just how liberal he is."

"Should I panic now, or wait until after breakfast? I haven’t been inside a church since I figured out choir robes weren’t really dresses. I have some grave doubts about the existence of the Lord and no real interest in resolving them.

"Then you’ll be right at home with the Unitarians. Please? I’m not much interested in church either, but sometimes you do things to make your parents happy. Besides, can you think or a better excuse to put on a dress?

"I’ve seen the light! Yes mistress. "I’m yours, do with me as you will. Command me and I will obey, noble lady!"

"You are an incorrigible smartass. Lend me a housecoat so I can run down to my place for something I can wear to church while you shave."

"Yes, mistress. Just look in the closet."

I snuggled into a blue terrycloth robe and picked up what I needed from my place, then gave my folks a call to warn them I was bringing a girlfriend. I just hoped that this crazy idea wouldn’t backfire!

Don had finished shaving when I returned and was ready to get dressed. I looked into his lingerie drawer and realized our shopping trip for a new bra had not really been necessary. The drawer held dozens of neatly folded bras in every color imaginable. He selected a simple white one with scalloped edges along the cups.

"Since we are going to church, I suppose I should be dignified and sedate. No cleavage today, I’ll wear something with a high neck and long sleeves." When I returned from my shower he was seated at the makeup table, clad in bra and panties, finishing the transformation.

"Do we have time for you to make me beautiful? You’re going to have to teach me how to makeup sometime, I never really cared enough to learn all the tricks, but my mother will be thrilled if I show up looking like her idea of a proper lady."

I sat down and he worked magic on my face once again. When I was done to his satisfaction we got dressed. I wore one of the two ‘Church Dresses’ I owned, a simple deep green with no ornamentation. He chose a white blouse with ruffled collar and sleeves, along with a charcoal gray skirted suit. Simple blue studs for earrings, a pendant that swung above the lacework of his bra where it showed through the blouse and a small gold watch completed the ensemble, or so I thought. I laughed as he took down a silly little veiled hat, complete with feathers in the brim, from the closet shelf.

"A proper lady wears a hat to church, you know. I’m glad you finally gave me an excuse to wear this thing. I never had the nerve before."

We arrived at the church just as the service was starting. We slid into seats just behind my folks and they smiled a greeting just as the prelude ended. Darlene surprised me with a creditable alto voice on the hymns, and unhesitatingly joined in on the responsive readings. The time came for greeting you neighbors. Darlene got quite a surprise when my father kissed her and every other lady within reach.

After the service my mother enthusiastically approved of my makeup and delicately fished for all the details of Darlene’s life and my relationship to her. Her curiosity satisfied (for them moment), she launched a long monologue describing the day’s activities. She was the chair of a fundraising lunch for some worthy cause, the details of which I will compassionately spare you.

"Jennifer, darling, I need you and your friend to sell tickets. You can set up a table in front of the door and be sure to catch everyone coming in."

I bet you’ve been curious about my name, after all I haven’t used it so far. I figured this story was about Darlene, and I didn’t want to upstage her. That isn’t going to work any more, because for the next two hours every soul in that church was shouting my name and expecting me to come to the rescue. It almost felt like an escape to settle in at the ticket table. Darlene and I lugged a table to the door, covered it with a gay tablecloth and covered the tablecloth with flyers, prizes, tickets and flowers. Satisfied with her work, Darlene sat next to me to await our first customer.

"Jenny, you have a positive genius for finding quiet, out of the way places that a crossdresser can frequent without fear of being spotted. How can I ever thank you enough for the invitation to church?"

"Well, let’s see, when we get back you could fix me an egg, you know one of the kind that has the little wire coming out of it. I have a notion I could provide a nice warm place for it to bake for a while. I like them done with lots of butter in the pan, so they slide around real easy. While the egg is baking I bet I could knead your bread until it rises. Oh, Hello Mrs. Johnson, how lovely of you to come today."

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Johnson, I’m Jenny’s friend Darlene. We were just talking about the wonderful baked goods we have in the hall. I’ve found our Jenny has a particularly good hand at yeast products. Can I interest you in a raffle ticket, I just know there’s a very good chance for a big score in our little game today."

Mrs. Johnson took her leave.

"I’m pleased you like my recipe for baked eggs, they’ve been a favorite of mine for years. One egg can be a treat, but baking two of your favorite eggs in adjacent ovens is an experience to be savored. I particularly enjoy eating while the eggs bake, you know."

"What a lovely menu you have planned. I think I would enjoy providing a meal like that. I think I might be able to supply a very private stock of freshly made juice. You don’t suppose I could serve some sausage with the eggs?

"Julia Child couldn’t have created a more perfect menu. A little meat for breakfast can be quite tasty, or so I’m told. I’ve never had anyone serve it for me, I’ve usually had to make do with plastic food for myself."

"Oh, you poor thing, how did you manage before you met me?"

"Hello Mr. Burke, Mrs. Burke. You can get your tickets from me and Darlene has raffle tickets only three for $5.00."

Why did these annoying people keep interrupting us?

"Plastic food, I’m, surprised"

"Well, I usually savor a purely natural approach to cuisine, but for these very private repasts I wouldn’t consider anyone but a willing female in the kitchen."

"Well, I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself. I do have a bit of sausage in my larder that I sample from time to time. Perhaps we could share it when we get home?"

"I have some in my larder too. I would think that most women would prefer a fatter sausage than I do. I’m afraid I don’t have a full size double oven. Have you ever served sausage for company before? There are so few chiefs with the patience to make it properly. The bowl requires a good bit of preparation, you know. Like a good dough it must be stretched gradually, with plenty of oil, until it is firm and elastic. You have to be very careful not to burn your sausage in the oven, so you have to take it out and put it back in rather frequently."

"That sounds like a very complicated recipe. Tell me, how do you know when your sausage is done?"

"Simplicity itself, my darling. A natural sausage will start to water when it’s ready to take out. If you’re using a substitute a signal from the oven will tell you."

The door opened and several people came in. Darlene coaxed them into buying raffle tickets while I handed out the flyers. At last we were alone again.

"It seems this is my weekend to have any number of new experiences. I just hope we can get through this afternoon without being found out. I’m ready for some good home cooking, and I’m not talking about the spaghetti dinner in the church kitchen!"

"I’m getting a bit ravenous myself, but I hope my skirt is hiding it. Jenny, my love, about all I have done in public was go to some crossdresser’s meetings or take a walk in the park on a quiet day. I never would have had the nerve to do something like this without your encouragement."

"You mean if I hadn’t dragged you here to protect me from my mother. If you weren’t here I’d probably be stuck doing dishes in the kitchen by now. My mother would never ask a guest to wash the dishes so we got the cushy spot here at the door. I have to say I feel rather smug she hasn’t figured out what’s going on, I never could keep a secret from her.

I had hardly finished speaking before the subject of the conversation appeared. At last my mother considered my penance to be complete and we were able to leave. The ride back seemed endless. We practically sprinted down the hall and headed directly for the bedroom. Darlene opened the drawer in her night table.

"I do have a few little toys to choose from. See anything you like?"

As I bent to look I felt the zipper of my dress being pulled down. I shivered as her lips started down my backbone, leaving a trail of tingling until they reached the bottom of the zipper. I stood up and shrugged out of the dress. Immediately I felt her hands caress my ass, sliding gently over my panties and down my thighs. I felt a pressure on my back as her breasts pressed into me, and a delicious warmth as she began to nibble my ear.

Mmm… how am I supposed to choose when you do that to me? Here’s my little egg, all ready to be cooked. Is this the sausage you were talking about?"

"Just warming up the oven Jenny. Yes, that’s my sausage and if you dig a little you’ll find the straps that came with it."

Before I could look her hands lifted my breasts, supporting them gently, pressing them into my body with slow, sensuous squeezes. This time she nibbled my other ear. With an effort of will I broke away and found the strap, setting it on the night table.

"Aren’t you a bit overdressed for the occasion? It’s going to get very hot in here in the next few minutes. I started to unbutton the coat of her suit and removed it. Opening the closet I hung it and my dress on the rack.

"This is kind of fun. I’ve never wanted to take a skirt off someone before,."

Suiting actions to words I dropped her skirt to the floor and offered her a hand as she stepped out of it. There was a noticeable bulge in her panties. Another trip to the closet and I started on the buttons of the blouse, which soon joined the rest of the suit. We stood looking at each other in the bright light of afternoon. Why was I so turned by a man clad only in bra, panties and gartered stockings. Had it only been a day since we had first made love? I dropped my panties, shucked my pantyhose and lay on the bed.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to start cooking?"

I have never been so reluctant to have a weekend end. It had been a vacation from reality, a completely new and exciting experience. We cleaned up and I spent the rest of the evening with Don, getting to know that side of the personality.

Where would this lead? Who knew back then. We were both busy people, but I knew after that first weekend together I wanted to make time for two new people in my life.

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

Darlene Goes Quilting

By Ricky

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

"Hello? Oh, Hi, mom."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hung up.

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

She shivered as I caressed her breast.

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what I needed, complete reassurance.

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

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

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

"Just how close together are these cabins?"

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

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

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

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

"Tonight, lover, wait until tonight!"

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Care for an appetizer?"

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny started to make strangling sounds behind me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jenny, are you decent?"

The door opened and in stepped Jenny's mother.

Silence.
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I kept my mouth shut.
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny scrambled from the bed and hugged her mother.

"Oh, mom, I love you."

This time the silence was much more comfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

"Hi, mom"

"Good morning, Charlene." I chorused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I suppose it was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh — you ask too many questions."

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

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

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

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

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

"I haven't been asked."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Darlene? Is that you?"

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

"Dr. Masley!"

Silence reigned, confusion was everywhere.

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

So what happens after Darlene Proposes Marriage to Jenny - She has to meet the family, of course!

Darlene Meets the Family

By Ricky

Jenny
Nervousness is a relative state, how you cope with it varies with its degree. For the mildly nervous a cup of tea and a minute to relax might be all that's needed. For something a little more difficult, say showing your license to a traffic cop, a stronger drink might be in order. For a profound case of nerves a long hot bath and a the services of a good masseuse might suffice.

In the case of my fiancé, Don, putting on a dress, wig and makeup usually has a salutary effect after a disquieting day. That usually works, as I said, but today it was the cause of his nervousness, not the solution.

My thoughts involuntarily returned to my Aunt Betty's living room last Sunday. I was seated next to Darlene and my Aunt was recovering from the shock of our engagement while cousin Kathy was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"Aunt Jenny said I could be a bridesmaid, mom. Isn't that cool! I've never been in a wedding before."

About this time Uncle Roger, as usual a little behind everyone else, arrived on the scene.

"Who's getting married, Kathy?"

"Aunt Jenny and Darlene, daddy!"

That one took him aback. Kathy is sort of hard to follow at the best of times, but this time it wasn't her fault.

"Sit down, Roger." Said Aunt Betty. "This is going to take some explaining. Darlene, you do agree to some relaxation of patient confidentiality under the circumstances?"

Darlene agreed. After all it's not every day one of your former patients decides to marry your niece. So Aunt Betty did her best to bring Uncle Roger up to speed, with the three of us chiming in as needed.

"Well Betty," said Uncle Roger when we stopped talking, "you seldom bring your work home from the office, but when you do it's a doozy. Darlene, if Betty thinks that highly of you I won't dispute her even if I think you are as crazy as a loon. Sorry dear, not professional language but I'm off duty and this is family."

"Perfectly acceptable, Roger. We psychiatrists understand the foibles of mere mortals." She turned to my newly declared love. "Since there are none of my patients present I can safely tell you that those of us in the helping professions usually get there as a way to try to figure out why we are crazy. I make no exceptions for anyone in present company."

"Egad — I married as sharp tongued serpent. Kathy, bring me a forked stick to protect myself."

"Daddy!"

"No one helps the poor, beleaguered father in this family! Darlene, I hate to admit it but a man in a dress might raise the overall sanity rating of this family appreciably, as you will learn when you become privy to the family secrets. Kathy, take a good look at your aunt-to-be. I suspect she could teach you some things about proper deportment and wardrobe.

"Oh no you don't Roger!" replied Darlene. "I may have to put up with Charlene's insistence I be a role model for Jenny, but there is no way I'll take on the job for a girl of Kathy's age. Now if you're interested I would be glad to loan you a bra and give you some makeup tips."

"Call the exterminator! The place is crawling with snakes, sharp tongued serpents that lash me about the ankles and prick my vanity!"

"Oh, shut up Roger. Be nice to Jenny and Darlene or I'll start telling a few stories myself — from your side of the family"

"I guess that puts the whole family in the know except Harry, eh? I would truly love to be a fly on the wall when he finds out!"

In all the confusion I had managed to forget daddy, maybe because I was trying to. I just didn't know how to tell him. I sure didn't want to.

"Perhaps Charlene and I should be the ones to break it to him. I think it would be best that way." Offered Aunt Betty.

Relief flooded over me and under her makeup Darlene started to regain her color as well. Hell, it hadn't been an hour since she proposed, we hadn't thought that far ahead! True to her words Aunt Betty picked up the phone.

"Aunt Betty! She doesn't know we're engaged yet!"

She nodded, then told mother she would be coming over without telling her why. She looked directly at me as she hung up the phone.

"OK Jenny. That's done but it comes at a price. I want to be a bridesmaid, too, and I would be satisfied to stand beside either bride at this wedding."

A round of Champaign was followed by another round of hugs, with Uncle Roger gamely squeezing Darlene when his turn came. I always knew Uncle Roger was a sweetheart. We finally made our escape and returned home, where we went to my apartment and waited nervously for Aunt Betty's phone call, but it never came. Oh it rang, but it wasn't her.

"Daddy? Uh ,hi daddy."

Darlene was at full alert, staring intently at the phone in my hand.

"Well, it just sort of happened. I really wasn't planning it but …"

I was tongue tied, making a fool of myself.

"Yes, I love him daddy. You don't think I would have said yes if I didn't?"

Would he ever stop talking and let me explain?

"Saturday for dinner? OK. Darlene will be here on Saturday, I promise.

No, he wouldn't stop talking! Help me!

"I love you too, daddy"

The phone went click. I put the receiver back in the cradle and grabbed Darlene.

"He's coming to dinner on Saturday. They're all coming, all four of them! Aunt Betty told him he should meet Darlene first! He's gonna do it!"

Which brings me back to being nervous. In abut two hours my parents would arrive and Don was still Don, chopping veggies and playing the Master Chef.

"Don honey, aren't you playing things a little close? I mean I want them to meet Darlene at her best."

"Yeah — just let me finish the zucchini. Its OK."

"Don? Since when have you ever put off getting dressed?"

"It' OK, Jenny, just a little more time…"

"You're scared! You're scared of meeting my father aren't you? I never would have believed it!"

"Aw Jen…"

I plucked the knife out of his hand and kissed him soundly.

"Don, I love you as Don, I love you as Darlene. If I love you and my mother can accept you then my father can damn well join the club! You are going to be at your most beautiful tonight and he will damn well appreciate you! I'll finish the vegetables while you march over to your apartment and you are not to return until Darlene is ready to knock my old man's socks off! Git!"

I shoved him out the door. See what I mean about nervous? That's world class nervous, guaranteed to have all the judges holding up cards with '10' printed on them, even the ones who took bribes. You just can't imagine anything more nervous than a crossdresser afraid to crossdress!

I finished the veggies and headed for the bathroom myself, I wasn't about to have my mother see me less dressed up than Darlene, not tonight. Sure I'm casual, but since I started going with Don, Darlene has started to rub off, much to my mother's pleasure.

I showered and resorted to the hair dryer then headed for the bedroom I shook my hair out and looked at myself in the mirror.

"Not bad for an old maid." My mother's voice seemed to ring in my head, not that she'd actually say anything as crass as that, but she definitely had thought it! My reflection stared back. Five foot ten ,eyes of — what the hell rhymed with ten? I was tall enough to be a model, but I liked to eat. Middling short, brown hair with the blond highlights that Darlene had put there a couple of weeks ago. Gray eyes, the usual compliment facial features. Good teeth thanks to the sadistic orthodontist I had as a kid.

There were pretty little blue stones hanging from a pair of ears that could have been a couple of sizes smaller. OK, so I've been putting it off. Big chest, small tits. 36B since I know you won't be satisfied unless I tell you. How I exercised and prayed they would grow until at 20 I finally had to accept they were as big as they would get without a doctor's assistance. Maybe someday I ought to borrow a pair of Darlene's falsies just for the fun of having big boobs for a day. Darlene has told you that I have the other usual major sexual organs, so I'll just say I have good legs and leave it at that.

By now Don would have finished shaving and be looking in his own full length mirror. I sometimes wondered how he saw his own reflection. He stood an inch or so taller than I did. His hair was kept short, the better to wear a wig. It was dirty blonde and very fine, good for running my fingers through. His eyes were undeniably blue, set in what had to be called a nondescript face. This was a good thing because it didn't scream "I'm a man" when he was dressed as Darlene, but was easy to look at when dressed as Don.

I had measured his chest at 40 inches the weekend we met, and right about now he should be valiantly trying to compress his waist into a corset. While I wouldn't want to wear one I had to admit it was a pretty thing. The panels were black, with red garters and lace edging. The cups were smooth globes of satin designed to push up and enhance the breasts, or in this case breast forms. It had scads of little metal hooks and laced from the front so I didn't have to help him dress today.

Half an hour to go! I quit daydreaming and put on my own bra, a mundane white but what I needed with the clothes I was going to wear. I guess I was going to have to wear pantyhose today, much as I hated them. I'll never understand what Darlene sees in them, let alone fooling around with garters and stockings. Yeah, I know he tells me stockings are better for a woman equipped with testicles, but I still don't get it. Pantyhose are an expensive, fragile pain in the ass. Literally, sometimes. Socks are so much better, but today was put on the Ritz for the parents day so I put them on and put my feet into a pair of flats.

I draw the line at high heels, no way I'm going to crush my toes and cramp my legs for some jerk's idea of fashion. Besides I'm tall enough without a couple of extra inches under me.

I thought of Darlene, I would bet anything about now she was standing in front of the mirror, playing with her garters. They say women are slow getting dressed, but if I'm not there to push him along he'll spend forever getting the falsies positioned just right or admiring the lace on his body instead of getting on with it. Maybe I should call and make sure she wasn't daydreaming. Nah — he was flustered enough. I realized I must be flustered as well, I was mixing my pronouns even in my head.

Darlene was all excited about the long, new black slip she had bought for the occasion. I could picture her, arms upraised, wiggling into it. Mom and dad had better appreciate this, slips were number two on my list of things fashion designers should have forgotten to invent, right after pantyhose, but the dress I was going to wear really needed as slip. Darlene sneers at the few 'church dresses' I keep in the closet, in a nice way of course. Meeting my folks was a special occasion and Darlene insisted we go shopping. Shopping with Darlene is almost fun, she gets such a kick out of perusing the racks and ferreting out the best deals. I tried to talk her into matching outfits, but she didn't think that was such a good idea. Dad was going to have a hard enough time coping, no need to be too cute.

Darlene is cool as the proverbial cucumber when shopping, completely unafraid to slip into the changing room and try on an outfit. Force of personality, I guess, no one has ever said anything, at least when I was with her. Since it was well into fall the stores were full of winter clothes, even if Indian summer seemed to have settled in. That meant the closeout racks would have bargains on summer clothes, and as frugal shoppers that's where we started. Not much there any more, but Darlene came up with a striking pale yellow dress, high waisted, full, flowing skirt and contrasting embroidery along the bodice and hem. I thought it was for her at first, but she handed it to me and insisted I try it on. I had a hard time picturing myself in that dress, but I have grown to trust Darlene's fashion sense.

Feeling a bit foolish I emerged from the dressing room and looked in the mirror. She was right! The dress did flatter me, the cut was generous enough to fit my non-anorexic body and the skirt positively flowed as I moved. Oops, my bright red bra and panties showed thorough a little too well! (Passing thought — I didn't wear colored bras before I met Darlene.) The saleslady expressed approval, probably genuine since something from the cutout rack wasn't going do much for her commissions. Even with a dress on I'm still a cynical bitch!

Darlene had been busy while I was changing. She held up two outfits. The first was an off white skirted suit, the other a deep green skirt and blouse combination. The long, bell-like sleeves and ankle length slit skirt on the green outfit were just her style. Not a bad combination, light and dark to contrast each other.

I stopped daydreaming and wiggled into my new white slip, then put on the dress. As I did my makeup I hoped Darlene was well ahead of me there. I used a bit more makeup than I am comfortable with, mostly so Darlene wouldn't look overdone, ran a brush through my hair, settled a pair of blue feathers on my ears and went to check supper. 15 minutes to go — where was she? Time was running out and I had one more thing to do before my folks got here.

At last the door opened and Darlene made her entrance. She was stunning, the outfit suited her perfectly Her wig was a mass of shoulder length curls and she had limited herself to a single gold bracelet. I took the little box from my purse and, feeling a little bit silly, I knelt before her.

"Honey, it isn't a diamond, but I know you love emeralds. Will you marry me?" I opened the box and slid a ring on her finger before she could reply. "I didn't think it would be right to be the only one with an engagement ring."

We had to hug very carefully so as not to mess up the makeup, but I knew I had made the right choice. Then the doorbell rang and it was show time.

"I'll get it, they're my folks. You go look domestic in the kitchen."

I opened the door to greet not my parents but Aunt Betty and Uncle Roger, who were a bit ahead of schedule. My uncle was bearing two bunches of roses, one white and the other red. With a flourish he handed me the red bouquet.

"I couldn't discriminate between my lovely hostesses so these are for you and the other bunch for Darlene. Lead on, my dear, so I can complete my mission!"

I felt Aunt betty's hand on my shoulder as we watched Uncle Roger present Darlene with the flowers. She was stunned by the gesture of kindness.

"Roger, how beautiful! I've never had anyone give me flowers before. I can't tell you how wonderful this is!"

In spite of his sharp tongue my uncle is a good man. He hugged Darlene without any sign of embarrassment. We were searching for vases when the doorbell rang again. No doubt of the guests this time. Before I could answer, Darlene went to the door.

The three of us looked at each other in consternation. My unflappable aunt actually fluttered her hands like a teenager. Like a scene out of a silent movie the three of us jammed into the doorway to the front room. We HAD to see what would happen, not just hear it!

What happened was my mother hugged Darlene and took her hand. She turned to my father, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well Harry, this is it. This is the infamous Darlene. Darlene, my husband Harry."

It must be something built into the male genome. I swear my father actually stepped back and gave Darlene the once over, not even trying to hide his scrutiny. I don't think anyone in that room was breathing except him.

"Hello, uh, Darlene. I expect you're damn well as worried as I am about meeting you, not that the rest of this family has given us diddly squat for choices." He paused and his eyes swept up and down Darlene once again. "I'm not sure what I expected, but you don't look half bad. I say we need to sit down to dinner and try not to choke on it by being too damn polite. That OK with you?"

He held out this hand and Darlene took it.

"It sounds like a good deal to me, Mr. Bosch"

We started breathing again, all of us at once.

"Make it Harry, or maybe Dad if you can stomach it." Daddy looked around at us with that wicked look he does so well. "Well, what did you think, I was going to eat him or her or whatever? I don't know what you see in him, Jenny. Hell I can't even see the him in him right now, but we brought you up to have good sense and if it damn well hasn't taken by now we aren't going to change it tonight. Lets eat, already!"

I haven't mentioned it yet, but Darlene is one terrific cook, she reads cookbooks like most people read novels. Her kitchen is full of them and she had been working all week to put together a spectacular feast that hopped over borders and oceans with gay abandon. With the suspense broken we all suddenly had enough spare attention to appreciate the heavenly aroma that surrounded us. Fitting six of us into the apartment required we be rather cozy at the table; to my surprise dad chose to sit next to Darlene, at least when she had time to sit.

I brought in the appetizer as they were settling down, Greek grape leaves stuffed with rice and chiles and mint mixed with yogurt and lemon. Mom and dad never were too adventurous in their cuisine, but they dutifully sampled our offerings. Dutiful turned rapidly to grateful as the delectable morsels melted in their mouths. There was no conversation other than staccato bursts of "Wonderful" and "Delicious" before the soup course. Darlene filled the bowls and I presented them.

"Caldo Verde, it means 'green soup' in Portuguese It's kale, beans, potato and sausage. Darlene has a way with sausages, you know." The bowls were half empty before conversation started again.

"Perhaps I should be the one to start the traditional inquisition." That was Uncle Roger, of course. "So tell me Darlene, how did you meet my niece?"

"I picked her out of my laundry basket one evening a few months ago. No, really — she tripped with her laundry and we started talking as we sorted it out. We hit it off and started seeing each other."

"Jenny tells me you are a machinist." That was Daddy. "Somehow I just can't picture you standing at a lathe."

"Well, I do tend to dress a bit differently at work, uh, Harry. I think I would probably start a riot if I came in as Darlene. Actually, I'm spending more time helping Bill Gates take over the world than I do running a machine these days."

Daddy is an engineer, he raised his eyebrows at that.

"These days almost all machining is computerized. We have a lot of machines that are all from different manufacturers and programmed in different languages. Microsoft is pushing something called OpenCNC to consolidate everything in one language and I spend most of my time on that these days."

That had daddy off and running, but the conversation was incomprehensible to everyone but Darlene and him, so don't expect me to tell you much of what was said. Suffice it to say that the two of them were getting along famously by the time the Hungarian roast lamb came out of the oven.

I'd rather talk about the lamb anyway, Darlene had poked a zillion holes in the lamb and filled them with pieces of garlic. About an hour before it was done she had surrounded it with thinly sliced potatoes that roasted along with the lamb and soaked up all the juices. Along with the lamb was Basque Lecas, green beans stewed in tomato, onion and garlic. It took a little while before the conversation resumed."

"Darlene, if I wasn't already married I would be on my knees for the sake of that lamb alone." That was uncle Roger.

"Oof!" That was Aunt Betty's elbow.

"I married a shrink because I thought she would understand my little foibles and here she is assaulting me over a little attempted bigamy."

"Roger, Darling, continue eating. You make more sense with you mouth full. Darlene, I want the recipe for these beans, they're wonderful. How did you learn to cook?"

Good old Aunt Betty. She had to know the answer but it did get the conversation onto a topic that the rest of us could appreciate.

"Actually, it started out by making tea. My sister is four years older than I am and I was so proud when she let me make the tea. Every once in a while we would have tea parties where she dressed me up in her old clothes while mother was at work. My father had died before I knew him and we were alone at home from the time my sister was old enough to take care of me. I must have been about 7 or 8 when she first let me make the tea. It just kind of grew from there, as long as I was in the kitchen I would help her get dinner ready.

Being dressed as a girl in the kitchen became almost natural. As I grew older I discovered I enjoyed cooking and hated washing dishes; my sister was perfectly happy to clean up afterward. I just kept getting new cookbooks from the used book store and trying new recipes."

My mother had her patented 'I don't believe this but I'm too polite to make a scene' look on her face. "What about your mother? I can't believe she approved of you wearing dresses?"

Darlene gave a rueful laugh. "You haven't met my mother. I wouldn't say she approved, but she's an unreconstructed hippie even today. She was determined to raise her children as free thinkers and without cultural bias; trucks for my sister, dolls for me and we both had dance lessons and ball teams. Even so, I think my crossdressing sometimes strains her capacities. I was young enough when June started dressing me up that she thought it was cute. By the time I hit puberty I was hooked and dressed up whenever I could. Not that I spent all my time home in a dress, I hung out with the guys, dated and did all the things teenage guys do, I just had an extra interest at home. Since June is a few years ahead of me I was able to wear her old clothes all through High School."

"Do you still see much of your sister?" asked Uncle Roger.

"She and her husband moved to Chicago so we only get together at holidays these days. Mom still has the farm in Pennsylvania and we try to make it back for Thanksgiving and New Year."

"Call me overcurious, but do you go for these visits as Don or Darlene?" daddy asked.

"Both. Obviously I enjoy being Darlene, but the image takes a good deal of upkeep, shall we say. Since June still gets a kick out of going out with Darlene I bring all the necessities so I have the choice. When I go home it's nice to kick back and relax. To tell you the truth, tramping in the woods or going fishing are much more enjoyable as Don. Jenny tells me you are a fisherman too, Mr. Bosch."

Well, I wanted Darlene and daddy to get to know each other, but I really hadn't planned to have the rest of us frozen out of the conversation. For the second time that evening they were off and running and the rest of us waited for enough normal English words to enter their conversation so we could figure out what they were saying. Aunt Betty just looked at me and smiled, it looked like Daddy was hooked.

"We were planning on spending next weekend at the cottage if the weather holds, perhaps you and Jenny would like to join us? Don't get me wrong, but I want to meet Don, too."

Darlene raised an eyebrow at me, one of her most endearing little quirks.

"Of course we would love to come, daddy," I replied, "but on one condition."

It was daddy's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You have to promise to talk about something the rest of us can understand for the rest of the evening."

"I second the motion!" cried Aunt Betty. "Jenny, let me help you clear the dishes before dessert."

We hustled and bustled and danced around each other and dessert was soon on the table. The Italian peaches stuffed with ground almonds and covered with Mascarpone cream rendered further conversation unnecessary.

The rest of the evening passed happily, a happy family gathering with my love being accepted despite his crossdressing. As we closed the door I fell into her arms and collapsed. It had been as perfect an evening as I could have hoped for, except for the damn dishes. Darlene is a great cook, but she still hates doing dishes. I firmly took her to the kitchen, but tonight her idea of helping was to hand me a dish and then caress my breasts as she went for the next one. One by one my blouse buttons came loose and soon her fingers were tunneling under my bra. I was determined to get the dishes done before we went to bed, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

Do a couple of glasses left on the counter count as cleaned up?

Darlene
Friday evening came and the weather was unbelievable for the fall, Indian Summer had moved in for the duration, it seemed. It almost felt strange to be going away for the weekend and not packing all the things I would need as Darlene. We were waiting with only two bags and my fishing gear when Jenny's folks pulled up in their van. Her father opened his door and got out.

"Not many men can say they have to meet their future son in law twice, I guess. He held out his hand and I shook it. "Well, son, Hollywood lost a talented artist when you decided to go into the trades."

Whew! We arrived at the cabin a few hours later after an uneventful ride. Once again I was nervous. Even though Charlene had found me in bed with Jenny there was that age old question nagging me: what would they say about my sharing a bed with their daughter?

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was a cabin in name only. If it wasn't set on a lake in the woods I would have called it a normal suburban house from the outside. The place was beautiful, plank walls, fireplace, complete kitchen and three bedrooms. I needn't have worried, Jenny led me to the middle door in the hall and we dropped our suitcases inside. The room was obviously Jenny's from childhood, decorated with mementos of her summers at the lake: painted rocks, pressed leaves, plaster figures covered in tempera paint and pictures of her and her family. We settled in and joined her parents in the living room where her dad was kindling a fire despite the unseasonable warmth. We spent a pleasant hour just talking before going to bed, the fish were waiting and we (or at least Harry and I) wanted to be up early.

How is it that when the alarm rings on a weekday my body refuses to obey the commands of my mind and get the hell out of bed but on that Saturday morning I left the warm body of my beloved behind and was up before the sun rose so I could go out to kill me some fish? Just as well to ask a crossdresser why he does it, you won't get a coherent answer to either question. Harry had the coffee brewing and bacon frying when I emerged, I think I was going to like my father in law. We didn't talk much at breakfast and were out on the lake when the sun rose.

I found myself at a disadvantage. When I go fishing I mostly throw a hook over the side of a pier and wait for the bobber to bounce around. Harry was a dedicated fly fisherman, and I had met the type before. The few times I've used a fly I relied on the salesman to tell me what to use for the fish in the area, which usually worked well enough to feed me dinner. Harry, on the other hand, took it as his duty to inform me of the joys of fly fishing. He tied his own flies out of such unlikely things as rabbit fur, feathers and bits of plastic. He went on about egg patterns, nymphs, streamers, speys, soft hackle wet flies, Caddis flies and such, each with it's own intended use and body of fishing lore.

I'll admit I was getting a bit bored, but I suppose If I started going on about cinchers, breast forms, garters and other details of my favorite hobby he might have been just as bored, so I nodded occasionally as I flipped my pole and reeled in the fly he had selected for me. The sun was just breaking over the trees when I felt a hit, conversation stopped as I worked the fish and eventually landed a 15" largemouth bass. Not a bad start for the morning.

We fished companionably in silence for quite a while after that. There was really no need for conversation as we floated on a beautiful lake surrounded by the glorious fall colors. The only sound was the buzz of our reels and the swish of casting for quite some time. Finally, Harry broke the silence.

"Well, son, I've been trying to think of an easy way to work up to the subject but I'll be damned if I can think of one so I'll just ask. Why the devil do you like to wear women's clothes? Betty has tried to explain it but it to me but I just don't get it!"

"Harry, as strange as it sounds I think you have the answer. I told you my sister started dressing me up before I could remember, I've had ten years or so to try to answer that question and I just don't get it either. I can give you bits and pieces of why, but I don't think anyone has the complete answer or ever will." His questioning expression bid me to go on.

"I'll be honest with you, sex plays a part in it. When I was a horny teenager getting dressed was a major turn on, but I didn't talk about that part with my sister or mother. I wasn't really ashamed of wanting to wear women's clothes, but I certainly didn't let any of my friends know I dressed up. A couple of my sister's college friends who visited the house during vacations knew, but nobody local. Once my hormones settled down the sex angle really became part of the background, but it's still there to be honest. Jeez, this feels weird to be saying this to you, Harry."

"Not half as weird as listening, son. You don't know what it's like to watch your daughter turn into a woman. I know damned well she's been sexually active for years but I still have that image of a little girl in my mind to cope with. I'm not going to ask about what you two do together, so relax, it's none of my business. Anyway, if it isn't sex then what is it?"

"How can I explain? The feeling is a big part of it, just the feel of the material is wonderful. I love stockings, I love the feel of a skirt touching my legs and wearing a bra is a very good feeling. Then there's that indescribable feeling you get when you take a poke at the silly rules of your society. Like I said, my mother tried her best to raise us to question authority, and a man wearing a bra is something guaranteed to get most men worked up. As far as I'm concerned we live in a society that is simply scared of anything to do with sex.

"We won't teach our children about sex and love. We kill people to stop abortion. We prate on about family values and then abandon mothers with children when their husbands or boyfriends walk out on them or beat them up. We ignore all of recorded history and keep trying to define sexual love as something that happens only between a man and a woman. I suppose Charlene told you how she found out I'm not gay and have no inclination either. Most of us crossdressers are straight, but there enough gay crossdressers around you shouldn't be too surprised to find one."

"I hate to burst you bubble, Don, but Charlene hasn't told me squat about your sexuality."

"She hasn't?" I must have looked incredulous.

"Not a word other than you like to dress up. There she had more than a few words, I can tell you."

"Oh Jesus..."

"He ain't in the boat with us, Don."

"How I wish... She walked in on us in the act, Harry."

I don't know what I expected from Harry, but gales of laughter were not on my list.

"Damn! She didn't! You have any idea how pissed off she gets if someone comes in our bedroom without knocking?"

"She knocked, Harry, she just didn't wait. Since I was, ahem, knocking as well it was embarrassing for all of us."

"Great Caesar's Ghost! I don't know if I should get my baseball bat because you're screwing my daughter or give you a medal for hoisting my wife on her own petard!"

"Does Charlene have a petard?"

"She's too ladylike to fart, son, but she does fart with the best of them. Bet you didn't know that 'petard' derives from the French for fart."

"How the hell do you hoist a fart, Harry"

"Damned if I know. How'd we get to talking about farts when you were explaining why you like to wear dresses?"

"Harry, put two or more adults together and they're going to talk about sex within 5 minutes of starting a conversation. Anyway, I'm one of the lucky ones who can pass as a woman. An awful lot of us are just too big and masculine to carry it off but they dress anyway. I'll admit it gives me a thrill to walk about in public without anyone catching on, but am I really a rebel against society if no one realizes I'm a man dressed as a woman? That weekend quilting was the first time I had tried to pass as a woman in such close quarters. In fact I'm amazed that no one caught on except your wife, and very grateful she didn't start screaming all over the camp."

"She did enough screaming when she got home, son, and I had to listen to it! I was about ready to go over and belt you one for hoodwinking my daughter when Betty called. I doubt Charlene would have let me out of the house in that state, but just the same I suppose that you are very lucky to have Betty to plead your case."

"I am incredibly lucky to have Jenny in my life. That her aunt was my therapist and understands me is something that can only happen in an awfully contrived story. I'd ban any author who tried it from my bookshelves, I'll tell you that!"

"I guess you don't read many romance novels, they do stuff like that all the time. Aw, shit! Now you know one of my secrets."

"It's safe with me, Harry. If you can't trust family, who can you trust?"

With that we resumed our companionable silence until it became obvious the fish were not going to cooperate with us. We rowed in just in time to join the ladies for breakfast at a civilized hour. My fish was suitably praised and stored in the refrigerator until dinner. I was surprised to see Charlene devoid of makeup and wearing a worn and obviously comfortable robe. This was the first time I had seen her in less than perfect condition, I guess that meant I was accepted as family! Jenny's parents announced they were going into town for a few hours, so Jenny and I walked down by the lake. Abandoning fly fishing for my usual style, I proceeded to drown a worm while we talked. Just bait the hooks and throw them in the water, then lean back with my beautiful lady pillowing her head in my arm and watch the bobbers.

So OK, no matter how avid a fisherman you are, after ten or fifteen minutes of laying there in the sun your mind wanders. When there's a warm woman curled up in your arms there's a definite place for your mind to wander to. I could feel her soft hair brushing my ear, smell the musky, feminine scent of her body mixed with the fresh smell of green grass. Her warm cheek rested against me, and I could just sense her warm breath on my chest. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the sensual rise of her breasts beneath her T-shirt, wide and flat as gravity pulled them against her body. My eye kept wandering to the slight swelling of her nipple, a soft rounded bulge in the pink cloth of her shirt. Lovingly I continued to gaze at her body, admiring the graceful curve of her legs as they emerged form her short shorts. A wisp of her cunt hair curled and gleamed in the sun as we lay there with her toes bare and her legs bent.

It didn't take long for us to forget about fishing and turn to more primal forms of entertainment. There have been few moments of pure pleasure in my life, but this was one of them, making love with the soft grass below me and the azure sky above. I was overwhelmed by it all, and almost missed the waving pink flag on the fishing pole beside us. What a time for a fish to bite!

Jenny laughed leaned over and gave a flip to the pole, setting the hook as the line began to unreel quickly. Jenny had learned well from her father. As she put tension on her line she rise up and release without loosing contact with me. With a giggle, she began to play the fish, reeling in and releasing tension as she slid up and down, keeping me hard even while I watched her work. With every action she played me as expertly as she played the fish. With a last effort she drew in the line and a huge bass hung from the pole. About that time the fish became supremely irrelevant as nature took it's course. Still holding her prize triumphantly she rocked gently until I once again became aware of the wold.

We stayed like that for a long time, as neither one of us wanted to move and break the glorious high we were on. Eventually we heard the roar of an engine as her parents returned and at last she shook her head and rose up, breaking the dream.

It felt kind of odd to be scrambling to put ON my clothes when someone came calling, not taking them off. I guess there is one advantage to being in men's clothes — shorts and T-shirt are easier to cope with than bra, girdle and stockings when you're in a hurry. We were decently dressed by the time the van doors slammed and proudly showed off our addition to the supper table.

After lunch we decided a stroll in the woods was in order. We had found that rarest of fall days, when the color is at its peak and the sun has consented to shine through a cloudless sky to bring out their full beauty. I soon found a stout branch and, with a few swipes of my knife became a serviceable hiking stick. I soon whittled up three more by popular demand and the four of us ambled through the woods with great conviviality. About the only thing that could have made it better would have been the swish of a skirt around my legs as I hiked, but this weekend was the exclusive province of Don, not Darlene.

We wound our way up a hill until we came to a spectacular overlook. Away in the distance we watched a farmer cutting his corn, the tractor making slow circles about the field, the stalks falling methodically to be ground up and sprayed into the waiting bin of the tractor. We found comfortable seats on the boulders scattered about and paused to take in the view.

"You know, darlings," Charlene said "Its been a terribly long time since I just took the day off and did nothing."

"Amen to that!" replied Jenny's dad. "I was beginning to think you had removed the word 'NO' form your vocabulary."

"Watch it, Harry, or I'll shove you over the edge. As if you were any better. We both love what we do and you know it, but it is nice to just let go once in a while, isn't it Jenny?"

My love agreed readily.

"It's been a long time since the family was together here at the cabin, hasn't it Jenny? Sometimes it's hard to remember you and your brother are adults now, especially out here where we spent so much time when you were young." Her expression grew abstracted as the memories came rushing back. "Harry, remember how Jenny was always up at the crack of dawn to go fishing with you? What you two see in fishing I never understood." She sighed and continued. "Honestly, Don, I despaired of raising my daughter as a proper lady. Perhaps it's fitting my son in law enjoys being more feminine than my daughter."

"Watch it, mom, or you'll be the one trying to tread air off this cliff. It used to drive me crazy how you would always be so perfectly turned out when you left the house. I kind of gave up because I just couldn't compete, you know. You made it look so easy but when I tried to do makeup by myself I always looked like a clown no matter how much you tried to teach me. Anyway, I like short hair and pants."

"I know, dear. Really, you dress very well, even if you didn't inherit my tastes. I didn't mean to go over old ground this afternoon, really I didn't. I suppose I'm a little nostalgic about family today. Don, I liked you very much before I realized you were a man and I have to thank you for being so patient with me while I sorted out my feelings. It was inexcusable of me to just barge in on you two that afternoon. I suppose Jenny told you how annoyed I always got when my children came into our bedroom without knocking. I guess I'm not too old to learn from my children."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day!" my future father-in-law opined. "We have done a lot of thinking about family in the last couple of weeks, you know. I suppose that's natural when your baby announces she's getting married, but I have to admit finding out my daughter's girlfriend was about to become her husband was something I had never imagined. I'll be honest with you Don, my first thought was you were some damned pervert."

I was hardly surprised, it's a common reaction. Before I could protest, Harry continued.

"I know, I know. Our family shrink wouldn't let me dwell on that nonsense too long, but it took a while to let myself get to that point. I have to admit you are better than some of the biker boyfriends Jenny brought home in her rebellious phase."

"Daddy!"

"Hush, daughter, you deliberately tried to get us upset and you know it." Her mother replied. "You can thank your Aunt Betty we didn't pack you off to a nunnery or something stupid like that. I still remember very clearly how frustrated you were when we treated your scummy bikers like people. I think we learned something too. Wasn't the tall blond one named James? He was a pretty good kid and a lot more intelligent than he wanted to let on under all that leather."

"Jenny, you didn't tell me I was going to marry a Biker Babe!" I couldn't resist, really I couldn't. "You'd look smashing in white leather and spikes. Let's get matching tattoos for the wedding, OK? We can roar off into the sunset on our hogs!"

"Mother! Just look what you started!" Jenny harrumphed. "Please leave the wedding plans to mother and me, Don. I expect it will take all my negotiating skill to pull this off as it is."

"Daughter, you may be the finest Union organizer on the face of the planet, but this is one negotiation you are bound to lose. I've lived with your mother the lawyer long enough to know she can outlast and outtalk any Union flunky, even you. Don, welcome to the family, I expect I'll be seeing a lot of each other while these two fight over this extravaganza you thought would be a wedding."

"Whoa, hold on a minute. We haven't even set a date yet in case you haven't noticed."

"Immaterial and irrelevant, objection overruled! Jenny, you'll have to speak to Darlene about this, I'm sure she'll be more understanding about proper wedding plans. Harold, just what are we going to tell the boys?

Jenny had two older brothers. She had told me a bit about them but I hadn't met them yet. I suppose I was going to have to meet them soon. Jeff, the older, was a conservative type who probably would have a great deal of trouble with Darlene. Josh, the middle child of the family had more of Jenny's casual outlook on life. Well, I wasn't going to worry about that on this glorious day, and neither was Harry.

"The boys are going to have to do the same thing we did, meet Darlene and get to know her. Anyone want to start a pool on how long Jeff sputters when he figures it out?"

"Don't you dare, daddy," my darling replied. "Jeffy is going to have a hard enough time as it is. It's getting late, I think we had better be getting back."

At least no one objected to that. We hiked back down with that delicious half melancholy, half euphoric feeling the end of a wonderful weekend brings. We ate our fish dinner and cleaned up the cabin, starting back just as the sun was setting. Jenny and I sat in the back seat, the middle was packed with all the paraphernalia from the weekend. Conversation flagged as it the evening grew dim. The road stretched for miles ahead of us and we sat silently in the twilight. Jenny had fallen asleep with her head on my lap, and I was in that mesmerized state you get when waiting for the highway to end.

I felt her stirring as she woke up, and reached down to stroke her head. In response she lifted my T-shirt and kissed my belly. I absent mindedly reached out and stroked her tits and felt a shudder go through her body. To my amazement I felt her hands on my zipper and you should have no doubt about what happened next. It is entirely possible to have completely silent, torrid sex in the back seat of a van without your parents realizing anything is going on.

Now it's Jenny's turn to meet Darlene's family. Just to keep things interesting, Darlene's mother is marrying Don's childhood best friend's father, so Darlene has some introductions to make herself. Along the way Darlene invents double-cross dressing.

Darlene's Thanksgiving

By Ricky

Darlene
The world was gray. The low clouds that spread from horizon to horizon were gray. A slow, steady drizzle turned the pavement gray beneath my wheels. The landscape, changing slowly from the low rolling hills of my home to modest mountains of central Pennsylvania were gray. Even the bare trees were dark gray against the light gray of the hills. I felt gray. Dressed as Don, without so much as a wisp of spandex or silk on my body, the only feminine attributes I possessed were my earrings, but these days even the most macho types think it's cool to wear earrings. November weather is gray, and it sucks. Not a day to give thanks for, but it was Thanksgiving and I was bringing my intended to meet my family. As the hills rose the radio faded into white noise, which made me blue, until Jenny fumbled around with little the CD player and put on the Friends of Fiddler's Green and color came back into the world.

It's quite a trick to get into a bad mood with Jenny around, but she had been sleeping as we made our way southward to my childhood home. I had been blissfully unaware of the mayhem that would ensue in my life when I proposed to Jenny on the way home from a weekend together. It was not making a commitment that was the problem, I was sure Jenny was the woman who I wanted to share my life with. I suppose that despite my penchant for skirts and silks I was afflicted with the typical guy attitude toward weddings: get a ring, stand up and say "I do," live happily ever after. Not so hard, is it?

Yeah. First, meet her family (twice, once as Don, once as Darlene), then introduce her to your family — the purpose of the current drive through the deluge. Don't forget to look for a house because you both live in little apartments and you both want enough closet space for your dresses. Your families live 4 hours apart and both want to help plan the festivities? That's what telephones are for, right? You have no particular interest in religion, your fiancée shows up at church once in a while and her mother is a driving force in her church? I dare you to decide who does the wedding and where it occurs! Then there's the matter of the dress, or should I say dresses.

OK, I know I'm out, I pass well enough to have fooled a whole camp full of church ladies for a weekend and my sister dressed me up from almost before I can remember. Both families have accepted Darlene so what's the problem? Sure, I get a kick out of being Darlene among strangers, but the problem is you don't invite strangers to your wedding. Both mothers will want to invite every soul they have ever known, and not a blooming one of them have any idea that Don and Darlene take turns with my body. I'm a machinist, the guys I work with have not a clue about Darlene and I have gone to some effort to keep it that way. Jenny is a Union activist and organizer, most of her associates haven't even met Don, let alone Darlene. Were all these people ready for a two bride ceremony?

Was I?

And yet the idea of going down the aisle in a white gown is beguiling.

Whoa, Earth to Don: Hit the breaks and don't miss the exit. Jenny woke with a start as I slowed down.

"Where are we?"

"About to leave civilization behind"

"That's nice, I've given up any hope of civilizing you anyway. Where are we?"

"I love a woman who is persistent. We are passing Corning, New York. In about 20 minutes we will turn on to a snake that masquerades as PA Route 6, after which we will be completely unable to pass another car for miles because of the unique topography of the Endless Mountains, which are situated between God's Country and the Poconos and differ only to the marketing departments of the local tourist associations. From there we follow a smaller snake path to a still smaller snake path then shift into low gear and climb a dirt road to the top of Radio Hill, so named because it's the only place a radio will work in these hills, and finally arrive at the old homestead."

"That's nice." She replied and proceeded to go back to sleep, eminently sensible since there was nothing to look at except gray. I followed my own directions and she awoke when I started climbing up Radio Hill. Jenny is a city kid, ascending a muddy dirt road was a new experience, as was climbing the even steeper driveway to the farmhouse. Her hand clutched the grab bar very tightly but we made it in one piece.

The place is quite beautiful in good weather, a huge, old frame farmhouse with wraparound porch, big barn and surrounded by acres of corn, a wonderful place to have grown up. When my father died mom gave up farming for teaching again and rented the land. Much had changed over the years since my childhood. My sister June and I had moved out and after years of study mom was now Professor Leget at the University. Even so, the old barn still stands. The corn had long since been cut and the fields were a sea of mud with stubble poking up through puddles.

"You ready to meet my family?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not unless you want to hijack the pickup and leave me behind. Don't worry, we are all insane but not dangerous to ourselves or society.

"Somehow this doesn't surprise me!"

We got out of the car and dodged a few puddles of our own, streaking for the cover of the porch as the rain came down. I rang the bell and opened the door. The gray of the world was immediately blown away as we entered the house. The smell of mud and rain was driven away by the stunning aroma of roasting turkey and the traditional trimmings. There was a cheerful blaze in the fireplace and two women sitting on the sofa, one of them my sister June.

"Donnie!" June sprang from the sofa and I was enveloped in an enthusiastic hug. "Momma, they're here!" she shouted in my ear. "And you must be Jenny!" Her arms left my body and it was Jenny's turn to get hugged. By this time the other woman had risen from the couch and joined us. "Jenny, this is my husband Stephanie."

Time stood still. I thought I had been kidding about having an insane family, but maybe I hadn't been. Now, after I have had time to think about it, I realize that it shouldn't seem strange for my sister to marry a crossdresser. Hell, it was her influence that started me down the path to my own crossdressing, but I hadn't a clue until this moment.

Despite being an actor, Steve had always seemed to be a bit colorless to me. They both made their living doing Theater in Chicago, and I'm sure you know that lifestyles for most actors are not exactly sedate and conventional. With the distance between upstate New York and Chicago I had never really gotten to know him well. Steve knew of my dressing. Hell, he had escorted Darlene and June on a very memorable night about town a couple of years ago, but he had never breathed a word.

How like June to drop a bomb like this on my intended. She delighted in driving me crazy when we were children and hadn't changed a bit. I was still trying to make sense of it all as I watched Jenny smoothly disengage from my sister and draw Stephanie into a warm embrace. I guess she has experience with meeting strange crossdressers and wasn't about to be flustered by such minor surprises.

Who was I kidding, we were both flabbergasted! While Jenny was greeting my brother/sister in law I gave her the once over. Tall, naturally enough, medium length, loose auburn curls, surprisingly light makeup for a crossdresser (I was jealous!), bulky rust colored knit turtleneck and a full, floor length brown skirt. Very good taste in clothes, I thought. I was pleased in an obscure way that Stephanie wore simple flats and had contented herself with a bustline that was not an exaggerated parody of the feminine figure. I replaced Jenny in the marathon hug and greeted my surprise sister in law.

"Donnie!" Again my childhood name rang out, but this time my mother was the source. Stephanie deftly passed me to her embrace like a well trained square dancer. I was briefly torn between properly greeting my mother and the need to introduce Jenny to her.

"Mom, this is Jenny." The family dance continued as my mother took my love in her arms.

I'll dispense with the dialog for the next few minutes, because if you could follow all the simultaneous conversations and make sense of any one of them then you should be writing this story, not me. Somewhere in the middle of that chaotic greeting I noticed mother's longtime boyfriend Mr. Connors had emerged from the kitchen with her. He wore an apron but, in deference to my already shocked system, it had no frills and he was wearing the typical pants and shirt of the male of the species. I suppose I should call him Pat, as he had requested on the last trip home, but he had been Mr. Connors for most of my life and it was hard to change. He and mom were, in the local parlance, an "item".

So the dance went one more time 'round the circle as he was introduced and at last. I tried to sit down and socialize, but that was not to be.

"Donnie, love," June smiled sweetly and I knew I was in trouble. "I hope you don't mind but I promised Stephanie that Darlene would join us for dinner tonight."

That damned clock went on the fritz again, and time stopped once more. Remember how I was talking about family and strangers? Jesus! Mr. Con- I mean Pat was standing right there and she was asking me to put on a dress in front of Chuck's father?

Chuck, one of my best high school buddies?

Pat was the guy who took me fishing, who let us party in his basement on Saturdays; the bloody bedamned mayor of my home town?

Short of the blood pounding around my ears I don't think there was a sound in that room. Jenny tells me I blush very nicely even when I'm not wearing a skirt and I'm sure I ran through several colors in the next few seconds. It was Pat who broke the silence.

"June, your mother should have taken the paddle to you more often when your were growing up." His grin took the sting from his words. "Don, I've seen the family album and I know all about Darlene, or at least as much as Millie was able to tell me. I hadn't quite bargained for living in a soap opera when I started seeing your mother, but if you can stand it, so can I."

"See, Darlene honey, it's perfectly OK." Nothing stops my sister, I guess. "I really need you to be a mentor for Stephanie, so pretty please be Darlene for dinner?" She fell before me in graceful heap and kissed my feet.

"Over-acting again! No wonder you're always 'at liberty'."

"If I didn't want you to do me a favor I'd tell you what I think of critics, especially amateur critics."

They say home is the one place on Earth where you can stay because they can't throw you out. I was sorely tempted to see if it was true, but Pat interrupted.

"My God, June! I want you as my campaign manager. They say a politician is the only person that can shovel crap faster than a dairy farmer, but I humbly bow to your expertise! I may be running unopposed but you couldn't buy better election insurance than that performance."

My sister fluidly raised her head, squared her shoulders regally and stuck out her tongue at him.

"Don, I won't be offended by Darlene, I've known about her for years but not by name. If you feel comfortable about it make you sister happy."

Say what? My capacity to absorb surprises was getting overloaded. He knew for YEARS? I was speechless, but fortunately Jenny had recovered.

"Of course Darlene will be happy to join you at the table. That is if her mother consents and one of her sisters is kind enough to get her suitcases from the truck while we freshen up before dinner."

"My goodness, at least someone in this madhouse remembers who runs it. Jennifer, I think we will get along splendidly. Darlene will show you where the bathroom is while June gets your suitcases."

We made our escape to the upstairs before anyone else could drop another bomb on us. My old room was still there, but my practical mother had installed her sewing and craft supplies in it (June got the computer in her old room.). The bed was still there and there was room enough in the closet for all our clothes. I removed my toiletries from the small bag I had brought in and grabbed the bathrobe that still hung in the closet even after all this time. Feeling fully justified I swiped June's robe from her old room and took it into the bathroom with Jenny.

I flipped on the space heater and swung the door of the big, old bathroom shut, then I finally collapsed. I had been running on an adrenaline high since I opened the front door (was it only minutes ago?) and truly needed a moment to collect myself. Jenny threw her arms around me as I slouched against the cabinetry in front of the wide bathroom mirror.

"Was it always like that when you were growing up?" Her warm hands surrounded my drooping head and pulled it to her breasts.

"Well, June has traditionally been the start of the hurricane season, a fact of which we constantly reminded my sister, but this may have set a record. Do you still love me even after meeting my family?"

"Of course you silly man about to be a woman. If I could survive growing up with my mother do you think a hurricane would bother me?"

While she spoke she had been unbuttoning my shirt. She slid it down my arms and ran her strong fingers over my shoulders and down my back, bringing her delightful breasts into my face again. I took a nibble through her blouse but it was less than successful.

With Jenny pinned between me and the sink counter a long forgotten memory came flooding back. One weekend when Mom was away my girlfriend had stayed with me. We found out that when she sat on the sink counter she exactly the right height for perfect penetration.

"Want to try something kinky, love?"

"Screwing you in a skirt isn't kinky enough for you?"

"Take off you clothes and let's see if you're as accessible as my old girlfriend."

"Comparisons! Do I get points if I'm better than her?"

"You get my point, if you get my point."

"Turn on the water or they'll hear us!" she hissed, so I reached into the tub and started the shower.

"Not anymore, they won't." I lifted her and sat her on the wide counter.

It still worked.

Eventually reality returned and we quickly showered before a posse was dispatched to find us. A quick shave and we returned to our room. We found our bags on the bed and faced yet another problem — what to wear. I had naturally brought clothes for Darlene but I hadn't expected to need them quite so soon. We had our choice of fashions to try and blend in with among the family. Stephanie was wearing a skirt and stockings, as was June, but mom had opted for jeans and Pat was somewhere in the middle.

High fashion or low? Comfort of flash? I was dithering while Jenny took time to fix her nail polish. If you can't solve the whole problem at once, then start with a piece you can solve. Good advice, that, so I found my bra put it on, settling the forms into place. Mmmm… The soothing feel of my brassiere around me helped to calm me down a bit, so I found my stockings and put them on too. My ancient HipSlip was made for the occasion. This is a multilayered short slip that gives the gentle illusion of hips. I would love to get another one if I could find someone who makes them but the company disappeared years ago. I certainly wasn't going to wear a girdle or corset for Thanksgiving dinner!

"Come on you two — dinner's almost ready!" June's voice floated up the stairs

"Damn — I shouldn't have done these stupid nails, they're still wet!" Jenny waved her hands in a futile attempt to hurry them dry.

"Your personal dresser at your service, madam." I bowed low, an odd gesture while dressed only in bra and panties, then smiling I picked up her bra and held it out. She threaded her hands carefully through the straps and I reached behind her to snap the band. Nice feeling, that, boob to boob with her as I struggled with the hooks. The bra was on cockeyed, so I happily bounced her tits around until they settled in place.

"I much prefer at taking off your bra, but that was fun. Here -" I opened her panties and, carefully balancing herself on my shoulder she stepped into them. "Shall we go for broke or be conservative?"

"Your sister deserves the matching outfits, don't you think?"

Yes, she certainly did. For the first time we had bought identical dresses and it was time to use them. Frankly, I had been hesitant to wear them together because it would bring extra scrutiny to us, but this decidedly weird family dinner seemed to be tailored to the occasion. The skirts were a deep gold color, made from a lovely crenellated material, ankle length and very full.

A simple white blouse showed the lacework of our bras quite clearly. (Damn, I wish I had brought the tape, I would have loved to show some cleavage for June.) A long sleeved half vest, half jacket top flowed over it all, emphasizing the breasts. I held her skirt out and Jenny stepped in.

"Dinner's ready! Get down here or I give it to the hogs!"

Ah, my subtle sibling. I quickly helped Jenny into her top, then dressed myself. I think I set a speed record for crossdressing makeup, if they ever make it an Olympic event I'm a shoo in for the team. Some dangly amethyst earrings with matching necklaces and we were ready. Out the door and down the stairs we went, where I promptly succumbed to stage fright. In the rush I had managed to ignore my misgivings, but now, a step from the dining room door, they came rushing back and I froze.

"I love you Darlene. We're going to knock them dead!" With her hand firmly in my back she propelled me forward.

She was right.

"Oh my God!" That came from the astounded Pat.

"I told you I had two of the prettiest daughters in Pennsylvania, Pat, and you didn't believe me." Mom dug her elbow into her stunned beau." I hadn't known that I had acquired three exquisite daughters until just now. How wonderful!"

"I simply don't believe it!" Pat was still shaking his head, but his rural manners overcame his shock and he seated both the ladies who had entered the room. If he moved somewhat like an automaton no one mentioned the fact.

"Well June," I said in my best feminine voice "I hope I've helped you with whatever you had planned for the evening. For a moment there I was afraid I was going to have to try and remember how to do CPR with Pat as my subject. Pat, if it gets too much for you please let me know and I can find a phone booth and turn back into Don."

"I… I… " He was having trouble! "It will take a lot of getting used to. I thought seeing the pictures would prepare me but…" He trailed off in confusion. I shot a quick look at June, who had the grace to look abashed.

"Don't worry, dear." My mother took Pat's hand in hers and patted it, a gesture I knew of old when she was playing the peacemaker. "You'll get used to it, just like I did. Now, no more talk about clothes or the turkey will get cold."

I didn't quite salute, but I came close. When mom uses that tone of voice she means business. I could just say that we ate dinner, but that would be a gross understatement. I really don't have to describe dinner, you must have eaten the same traditional dinner every Thanksgiving for most of your life, so just remember the best one you ever had and you know how good it was. The wind and rain howled outside but inside the old farmhouse warmth prevailed and a tentative camaraderie blossomed. As is inevitable when introducing someone new into the family, the old stories were exhumed for Jenny.

"Pat," June asked, "did Chuck ever tell you about the time when he was playing ball with Donnie and the ball landed on the roof of the shed?" It appeared that particular episode had not been brought home to father. "Chuck climbed up to get it and found a couple of rocks up there, so he tossed them down so they wouldn't fall on anyone. Of course one of them landed right on Donnie."

"Hey, he was trying to do a good deed!" I replied. "Jenny, let me tell you how my sister lost her front teeth. (Shut up, June!) One of her girlfriends was playing on the swings in the back yard and had wound the chain up as tight as she could. My bubble brained sister was walking straight at the swing set with her mind somewhere on Pluto, heading directly for her friend as she spun around. Mom was screaming at the top of her lungs but June was lost in space. Man, did she scream when she got kicked in the face. Blood everywhere, mom going bananas; it was great!"

"OK Donnie, you just earned this one! I was too young to remember it happening but I'll tell the story anyway. When Donny was about a year old mom used to poke him in the belly button and go 'ding-dong'. Real cute, right? Well one night we had company over and he escaped in the middle of changing his diaper. The cute little bugger was running around naked and entertaining everyone when he perched up on his toy box and tried to do the ding-dong bit. Problem was he could only say 'dong' and he was a few inches lower than his belly button when he started poking himself."

"Peace, Children!" Mom always did stop us just when it was getting fun. "June, you help me with the dessert, Darlene you can get the tea and coffee." Conversation lapsed while we cleared the table and brought out dessert. Ever the good waitress I made the rounds with the coffee and hot water as we were once again seated."

"Just like old times, Darlene. You were always so eager to pour at our little tea parties, weren't you."

"Of course I was, June. Some of my earliest and fondest memories are of being so proud when you let me handle the hot kettle. You were pretty tolerant when I poured tea for all the dolls at the table, too, as I recall."

"Mother Leget," Jenny asked, neatly sidestepping what to call my mother, "Darlene has told me about the tea parties and how June would dress him up, but I'm curious. Just what did you think of your little boy being dressed up like a girl? How did you handle it?"

"To tell you the truth, Jenny, Don wasn't even in kindergarten when they started having tea parties, so it was awfully cute. As far as I can remember it was shortly after their father died that the parties started and they seemed to be having so much fun I didn't worry about it at all. There weren't many things that made us happy back then and I was in pretty bad shape myself coping with being a widow.

I had to spend a lot of time away from the house working and by the time June was old enough to watch her brother safely it was simply part of family life, as odd as that may seem. Don seemed to be a normal boy in everything else, so I decided to let the two of them handle it for themselves as long as it wasn't causing problems. As far as I know Don never told anyone outside the family."

"You're right about that, mom. I guess it's something you soak in through your pores, even when I was a little kid I knew wearing June's old dresses was not something to tell anyone else. It wasn't until June was in high school that I started to be embarrassed about it, but by then I liked it so much it didn't matter. I still remember how excited I was when I got big enough to try on June's old training bras."

"Yeah," my sister commented, "and it scared the crap out of me when you did. Up 'till then it was just a kid's game, but when you wanted to wear my bra I didn't really know what to do. Let me tell you, there's nothing more agonizing than a 15 year old debating the morality of crossdressing, although I didn't even know the word back then. I knew it was wrong, but no one would tell me why. I was scared to ask anyone, even you mom, because it would be just too embarrassing. I tried the library, just like you taught us to do when we wanted to know something new, but since I didn't even know what to call it I couldn't find anything. Damn, I wish the Internet had been around back then!"

"You and me both, June! You know, I never realized you had any doubts about letting me have your old clothes."

"Damn right, sister mine! Do you think I would have let my baby brother know I wasn't his perfect, all knowing superior in every way? At 15? Not a chance!"

She was so vehement we all had to laugh.

"So what did you think when I got old enough to want to start stuffing those bras and pestering you to teach me to use makeup?"

"Well, by then I was ready to leave for college, a wise and worldly woman who would gladly teach her protégé the secrets of femininity. We women of the world care nothing for the pitiful constraints of oppressive society, don't you know?" My sister the actress drew herself up and delivered her lines in such a haughty tone the table again broke into helpless laughter. "Obviously my tutelage was successful."

"At least it was good practice, as I see from looking at your husband." I taunted. "June, why on earth didn't you two tell me before this?"

"Because" Stephanie replied, "despite present appearances I am not a crossdresser."

This statement, delivered in a warm contralto by a man appearing for all the world as a very well dressed woman, brought forth a chorus of derision from all present.

"Good line, Steph. I've used it myself."

Instead of giving me a dirty look he furnished one to June, with plenty of spin on it.

"Let me finish, I am not a crossdresser, I am an actor, or perhaps an actress would seem more appropriate, studying for an upcoming role. June convinced me that I couldn't find a better situation to try the part than among the family. We warned mother so she could brief Pat, but I'll admit I was looking forward to your reaction quite a bit. It was worth it!"

Hoist on my own petard. Even though Jenny's dad had told me what it a petard was, it still galled. Oh yeah, I was insanely jealous of the voice, it was perfect. All those years of doing voiceovers and impersonations had an unexpected benefit.

"Well Stephanie, I think you have the part cold, except for the pie on your bosom. One thing we pseudo women have to keep in mind is where our breasts are or it can be embarrassing with everybody staring at them."

She hastily dabbed at the pie. That got another laugh, as intended. Yes, I took a quick glance at my own mock mammarys to make sure I was behaving like a lady before continuing.

"I think I understand, Steph. Earlier today I was musing on the difference between strangers and family and how I felt about Darlene meeting them. Somehow it's an awful lot easier to be Darlene when no one around me knows me as Don. I don't have to constantly worry about hurting or offending someone just by being me and there isn't that nagging little voice telling me the people I love think I'm nuts!"

"Hmmm — I see." Her gaze settled on Pat for a moment then shifted to me again. "It really was presumptuous of June to sweet-talk you into being Darlene with friends present, no matter how close they are to the family. I really hadn't thought that far ahead when she cooked this up. Please accept at least my apologies, Darlene."

"No need to apologize for upsetting me," said Pat, finally getting a word in edgewise. "When your mother said 'yes' to my proposal I knew I would have to find a place in my heart for both Dan and Darlene, and I think I can find room for Stephanie, however temporary her presence will be."

Say what? Silence has played a big part in my life lately, as befits a crossdressing bachelor who announces both his sartorial preferences and matrimonial commitments to all and sundry. The silence descended once again, but was soon driven out by the sound of cheering. As hard as it was to picture my mother getting married, the glow on her face plainly told me that this was the right thing for her. Serious talk of crossdressing was abandoned for a much more satisfying round of hugs and kisses.

I was so enthusiastic in congratulating the happy couple that I didn't think twice about grabbing Pat and planting a good solid smacker on him. To his credit and my belated surprise he returned the kiss accompanied by a heartfelt hug, which simply made this girl's day. With Jenny's arm comfortably around me we settled in the living room and ignored the dishes by mutual agreement.

"Have you set a date?" I had to ask!

"Have you?" he asked in return.

"Well. That was one of the things Darlene and I wanted to talk about this weekend." My love replied.

"We were thinking about sometime in July or August, I really would like an outdoor ceremony. Besides, even though my intended can appreciate the effort it takes to become beautiful better than most men, he hasn't a clue about how much work a wedding is — at least if my mother is involved! So when are you going to get married?"

"To tell you the truth, we were just going to elope." my mother said in a firm voice.

I was becoming convinced that I would never need ear plugs again, because Silence seemed to have become my closest friend. She certainly seemed to enjoy my company.

Excessively to my way of thinking.

"Mother! You wouldn't? You're kidding, right?" My sister was babbling, not something I have heard very often.

"Well, why not? My intended is a prude, he won't sleep with me unless we're married and I don't intend to wait any longer now I've said yes."

Did I really want to know this? Mothers don't get married. Mothers don't elope. Mothers don't talk about their sex life in front of their children! If I wasn't blushing it was only because Pat had cornered the market on spare blood for facial coloration.

"We got the license last Monday as soon as the office opened. The three day waiting period is up today so tomorrow we're going see Henry (he's the town justice) and let him say the words. I'm too old to want to go through all the folderol with bridesmaids and limos and such, so you are all invited to go with us to Henry's tomorrow and then help move Pat's things into the house when we're done."

Your mind does funny things when it is dealing with emotional high explosives detonating somewhere above your right earlobe. When mom spoke her piece the part that stuck in my consciousness was "no bridesmaids" and all I wanted to do was scream "But I've never been a bridesmaid! I want to be your bridesmaid!"

"Mother! You can't be serious! This is your WEDDING (she clearly pronounced the word in capital letters), not a detour on the way to move furniture!" June had clearly inherited mom's command voice.

"June darling, this is my — I mean our — wedding." It looked like a battle of drill sergeants was forming up. "We are perfectly capable of deciding the way we want to do things by ourselves. We really do not want to make a great fuss about this." Pat had come over and had formed a battle line with mother.

"You can't possibly get married tomorrow!" If you think for a second you are going to get married without me as matron of honor you will have to have the ceremony in a hospital bed, because you will be under 24 hour doctor's care after I finishing up expressing my opinion!"

Yup, she had the voice, the army lost a great drill sergeant when June became an actress.

"That would certainly put a crimp in the honeymoon, darling. Darlene, you have been rather quiet, that's not like you."

I felt like a hand grenade had been lobbed at my feet.

"Mother, you're treating this like an academic exercise, which is a bit much even for a professor. It may be you two taking the vows, but a wedding is as much for your friends and family as it is for you. It doesn't matter how old you are, If you love Pat enough to marry him then you should shout it to the world!"

"Well, we have invited some friends to the house on Saturday afternoon for a simple reception."

"I told you it wouldn't work, Millie Leget-soon-to-be-Connors." The brogue he affected when he had something up his sleeve was thicker than the cream stirred into an Irish Blessing. "There is no such thing as a simple wedding, but I thought it best to let you enjoy your fantasy as long as you could. My love, even you cannot dispense with the traditions."

"Patrick Xavier Connors, you are an infuriating man."

"Ah, Millie-me-dear, 'tis in the genes of the Irish and you'll be getting' used to it, ye shall." It was getting thick in here, and I don't mean just the phony brogue. "Chuck went with me on Tuesday when we reserved the tuxes so that's all taken care of. What I hadn't planned on was the finding of two more strapping men to complement the sudden excess of bridesmaids in my future family. 'Tis the little people at play, I'm sure."

Well, after that I couldn't complain about the all too persistent silence in my life because pandemonium reigned in the halls of the old homestead. I was torn between joy for my mother and pure unadulterated fear at being my mother's bridesmaid. Given the nature of gossip in a small town, Darlene would be revealed to every inhabitant over the age of seven within moments of the ceremony. June was hugging mother and flinging out stage directions and choreography for the ceremony with abandon. My own true love had enveloped Pat in a joyous hug and Stephanie, forgetting the perfect contralto, was booming "Are you all out of your ever-loving minds!?" at the top of his/her lungs.

The second law of thermodynamics, along with stomachs full from Thanksgiving dinner, eventually saved us. As science predicted all that concentrated energy eventually dissipated, flowing off into the ether somewhere. We were rather dissipated ourselves when we finally reached the level of one conversation at a time.

"Mother, Pat," I began, "I don't think I remembered to say congratulations to you before now. Somehow I just never thought about my mother being married again, but I am very glad to see her so happy with you. Pat, I'm honored beyond words to have you welcome me as Darlene to your wedding, but have you really considered what will happen?"

I felt Jenny's arm steal around my neck and pull me close to her as I spoke.

"It's one thing to dress up here at home, but I don't think you realize just what will happen if Darlene was at your wedding. Mother — this is supposed to be your day, not mine. Stephanie might get away with it, most people here don't really know Steve, but no matter how small the wedding may be, when people realize that little Donnie is up there next to you wearing a dress I'm afraid your vows will be the last thing on their minds. I love you too much for that, mom. I just can't do that to you, no matter how much I want to wear a gown and be your bridesmaid."

We met halfway and I held my mother close, closer than I had done since moving away from home to begin a life on my own. The years fell away and I was again a little kid, safe in my mother's arms and it felt very, very good. A strong hand rested on my shoulder and Pat joined in our embrace. I had never known my father, never had the privilege of holding on to two parents before. This man was probably the closest thing I had to a father, but there had never been the element of physical touch in our relationship before.

I was 26 years old and for the first time I had a father. Not only that, but he was a man strong enough to welcome me as both son and daughter without the slightest hint of condemnation or unease. With my eyes still closed as the moment washed over me I felt Jenny join our circle. I have never been a religious man, never found the ability to place my faith in a deity, but at that moment I came close to knowing the benevolent God of my forefathers. The tears fell unheeded, not only mine theirs as something magic occurred. We broke our circle only long enough to admit June and Stephanie and a true and complete family was formed at that instant.

Steve
I know I'm going to regret this. Darlene is so conflicted about her noble sacrifice for her mother she has writer's block and somehow I got elected to continue the story. Just because I'm wearing a dress everyone thinks I am the logical choice. I may be wearing a dress but I'm still male and I know better than to argue with a crowd of real women, so here it goes.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair, a late breakfast I might add. Between five ostensible women trying to use a single bathroom and the fact that we were short on sleep because of the extensive negotiations over the wedding plans the morning started late. My soon-to-be sister in law's mediation enabled three very strong willed people reach a compromise that satisfied everyone The Saturday reception was transformed into a wedding. Today those dressed as girls would shop frantically for clothes while those dressed as boys would phone the guests and inform them of the change. Last but not least, Mamma Millie would wear something without separate legs in its construction.

Let me warn you about two things right here: One — I'm a sarcastic bastard and if you don't appreciate acid humor then skip to the next section of this little story, you won't like it. Two — my name is Steve, not Stephanie and you can take that or leave it too. My brilliant and persuasive wife put me up to this crossdressing shtick because I'm starring in a stage version of Tootsie. I'm an actor first, last and always and this is a juicy role. Having a real crossdresser for a brother in law is a bonus in preparing for the part, but once the production begins I go back to being Steve unless I'm on stage because as far as I'm concerned the clothes are just another costume to make the part believable. When the production is over Stephanie is history unless someone wants to do a revival 20 years from now.

When I got the role, I started with a little research on the subject. Naturally enough for someone in the theater I have a slew of gay friends so I thought I had the inside track. It didn't take long to find out that 'that dog won't hunt' as my one of my previous characters would have put it. Oddly enough I didn't really find any garden variety hetero crossdressers in the theater, at least not in my circle. Maybe that's because we actors spend so much time being other people for a living we want to go home and be ourselves, not another character. Maybe I'm all wet too, I'm just an amateur off the stage.

What just about everyone told me was "Check out the Net" so I did. Of course, any actor who isn't fluent in webspeak is condemned to a lifetime in the minors. Where else can you get so much information about any subject in so short a time, and information is the lifeblood of realizing a character. As I expected the scene runs the gamut from demented to demigod, but what I didn't expect was the plethora of fiction I found.

Science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon once said, "Sure, 90% of science fiction is crud. That's because 90% of everything is crud." I hate to break it to you ladies, but you don't defy the odds. How come most of your writers want to have some chick FORCE them to get dressed up? You people really think you can get behind your guilt by having someone force you to do what your really want to do? Better you should go into acting where they pay you for living your fantasy if you have the knack for convincing an audience.

None of this stuff was any help in developing Tootsie, who was learning to be nice, not nasty. OK, I'll get off my soapbox now, I'm starting to sound like a Director, and Lord knows Directors sit on the right hand, as it were. (We actors know what they're doing with the left one!) I'll get back to the story now.

Now I know at this point I'm supposed to provide a loving description of every damned piece of clothing I put on that morning, with it's pedigree and lineage, but frankly I'm not much interested. I have two bras, both white and cheap, a couple of skirts, a week's worth of panties and the only reason they aren't white was they sell them in packages of nine and you don't get a choice of colors. I have the sweater from last night, which I intend to keep for myself because there is not a person on this planet that can convince me a sweater has a gender bias, 3 tops, 2 dresses, some shoes from the Shoe Source (ten bucks a pair and NOT 6" heels!) and a nightgown. They all fit in a single suitcase, which was all my wife and acting coach let me to take on this journey. Wait a minute, this is starting to sound like one of those godawful domination stories. You don't think this stuff is catching, do you? Anyway, you've heard the phrase 'starving actor' plenty of times. Well let me tell you I don't intend to starve because I bought a fancy wardrobe I'll only use for a few weeks.

Oh, yeah, they'll kick me out of the Crossdressing Writer's Association if I don't tell you how I filled up my bra. Hell, I'll probably get kicked out for admitting that a bag of grapefruit will last me almost a week if I can keep this crowd away from them at breakfast. So anyway my wife and I dressed each other and I sat down to apply my makeup. To my surprise, this was the hardest part of crossdressing for me.

As an actor I regularly put on makeup, often by myself if it's a small production and we can't afford a large staff. The problem is, theatrical makeup is slathered on, no subtlety because you want the patron in the back row to see what your face is doing without having to resort to field glasses. It took a while to get the hang of lightly applying the makeup, thin lines and subtle shading, but after a few days June let me go out of the house without wincing too horribly. I'd been at it almost two weeks now and was almost proficient.

The arguments started before the toast was ready. Remember, I started this thing over breakfast and I've been so busy talking to you that I haven't eaten yet. Momma Millie was still expounding on the virtues of her white pantsuit for the wedding.

"Mother, if you think for a minute you are going to wear pants at your wedding I'll disown you. This gig is serious, not a farce! You are going to look so completely beautiful that Pat will take ten minutes to stammer 'Yes'. Two days to plan a wedding, what were you thinking!"

"I was thinking of a small, simple ceremony without a lot of foolishness, as befits a feminist professor of a 'certain age'. I had hoped that all those years of dressing your brother would have depleted your excessive estrogen to the point of reason. After all dear, did I tell you what to wear when you got married?"

"Of course you did, and it's my turn now! If you could talk me out of that stunning red dress than I am going to talk you out of pants. Darlene, talk some sense into you mother!"

"Yes ma'am, sergeant ma'am!" My role model had on a woolen skirt and sweater, quite conservative and completely appropriate to a woman ten years older than she is. Her intended was dressed as a thoroughly modern woman in slacks and blouse. Undoubtedly my wife would have been similarly attired if I hadn't grumped about being the only woman in the town who still wore a skirt, so traditional femininity won 3-2 in overtime, or is that too masculine a reference for this story?

"If I'm going to have to put on a goddam monkey suit for this thing," Darlene spoke, "you can do your part and wear a dress. Mother, weddings are about romance, excitement, tradition, beauty, pictures! Do you really want to look back on your 10th anniversary and not be able to figure out which one was the bride? June, we arrived none too soon, she might actually have done it if we weren't here!"

"None of this nonsense about feminists and being too old. You're getting married!"

"Flowers, I bet she hasn't even ordered flowers!

"What about a cake, you have to have a cake!"

I had an image of two burly men hauling on a two man saw as they cut the legs from under my mother-in-law, the exchange zipping past her as fast as my head could swivel."

"Peace, children! Peace."

It was past nine before we managed to leave the house. The topic of discussion shifted to whether we should go North to New York or South in Pennsylvania where the two nearest sizable cities lay. Of course none of the women, genetic or otherwise, had a thing to wear except Mamma Millie, who was still advocating for her pantsuit. Demonstrating the practicality of the female of the species we headed South. Why, might you ask, is this a practical decision? Because in New York they charge tax on clothes over $110, in PA they don't. Now what guy would think of that?

I was elected driver, which meant I had the pleasure of Jenny's company in the passenger seat while June harassed Momma Millie in the back. I fear my wife will be a director before long, she just can't resist telling everyone how to play a scene. I tuned out the nattering about the wedding and took to opportunity to get to know my latest relative.

"Well Jenny, still want into this crazy family?"

"Of course I do!"

Poor fool, still floating on love's embrace. She'll learn.

"I can hardly wait to see what happens when June meets my mother. The movie "Clash of the Titans" comes to mind."

"Good gad, another strong willed woman. Not only does the family run to them naturally, but my darling wife manufactured one of her own and now we're importing another. This family knows no restraint."

"Stephanie, I'm counting two uh, manufactured women in the present company, unless my arithmetic has suddenly failed me."

"I suspect that if I survive this weekend I shall have learned enough about impersonating a woman to carry off my part without further training. Right now I feel like I'm in an immersion course for femininity and I don't speak the language. Don't include me in the totals, my dear, I am a special offer, available for a limited time and never to be repeated."

"When pigs have wings, Stephanie." Unbelievers,! Put on a dress and everyone thinks it's a permanent affliction. "You don't expect me to believe that June would want you stop fulfilling her fantasies now you've started, do you? Darlene is as much her creation as Don's."

Ouch, this lady was no fool. To tell the truth I had rather been skirting the issue of how deeply June got into this masquerade.

"Be that as it may, my love, but I really don't find crossdressing that interesting on anything but a professional level. I can understand a bit of why some men enjoy the clothes, but for me it doesn't make any real difference. The amount of work it takes is far more than I would want to do every stinking day and besides, my chest hurts from the weight of these grapefruit in my bra."

"Grapefruit?" She dissolved into giggles, which attracted the attention of the back seat passengers. "She's using grapefruit, Darlene!" Now June and Darlene were giggling and my poor mother in law was looking very confused.

"I stuffed my bra with grapefruit, Mamma. These philistines seem to think it's funny." Now they were all laughing, and it really was pretty silly so I joined in. Just one of the girls, that's me.

I guess we have arrived shopping scene that seems to be mandatory in these stories, although I can't think why anyone would be interested in the details of choosing a dress. It brings to mind a scene from my youth when my father and I, to our profound regret, went shopping for new clothes with my 13 year old sister. Neither of us had any idea what we were in for on that day.

The purpose of our trip was to provide her with some new bluejeans, a task that would have taken me or father about 45 seconds. We entered a large clothing store that must have stocked about 15 million pairs of jeans, each and every one virtually indistinguishable from any other in the store to the male eye. Betsy scrupulously examined each and every stitch of each and every pair and pronounced the entire stock utterly unsuitable to wear in public after some 45 minutes.

This scenario was repeated again at another store as my father slowly rose from simmer to boil to emergency steam overpressure. We returned home without any addition to her wardrobe and my father refused to go shopping with his daughter ever again.

I was rather expecting to relive this scene from my childhood, but it really didn't turn out too badly, especially at the end. In my own male, task oriented viewpoint, we had three quests to fulfill. First, get Millie something June would let her get married in. Second, find reasonably complimentary dresses for June and myself as bridesmaids and third, Darlene had to pick up a tux. Yeah, it's sacrilege for this kind of story but the irony was delicious. More about that later.

Even one as crotchety as myself realizes that wedding dresses are seldom available off the rack, so the hardest task was the first. The natural place to start was one of the larger department stores as K-mart was fresh out of wedding dresses. Even a city as small as this had a megamall nearby so that's where we started.

I comported myself with dignity as my fellow females ransacked the racks reminiscent of a ravening horde fresh off the Asian steppe. Millie reminded me somewhat of my father as my over enthusiastic wife pressed dress after dress against her body. She protested to no avail and eventually they settled on a very nice white lace (or do I mean crochet, I'm really not up on this stuff) lined with a barely pink fabric that kept Millie's mature dignity intact while from a distance it would start most men salivating. Pat was one lucky fellow.

The first goal having been reached, I was no longer allowed to spectate from the sidelines, but was forcibly drawn into a womanly whirlwind. I fear my presence in the group was a problem since I was significantly larger than most bridesmaids, which limited our selection. By this time we had attracted the attention of the sales staff, who offered various helpful suggestions.

My darling wife soon drew me into the dressing rooms (you knew this was coming, didn't you) and I was all for writing a sex scene but June simply refused to cooperate. Oh, she appreciated it when I started playing with her nipples but firmly slapped me down when I tried anything more adventurous. There's something about having your mother standing 2 feet away from you in an open topped booth that discourages intimacy. Don't worry, I intend to make up something outrageous for you when we get back home, and I'll guarantee it will put a bulge in your skirt.

I was required to peel down to my undies and wiggle into a succession of pretty pieces of cloth. If you want more description than that you'll have to ask Darlene because I haven't a clue as to the details. I would advise approaching the subject very circumspectly if you really need to ask; there is nothing quite so forlorn as crossdresser forced to watch as everyone else gets to buy a pretty new dress for a wedding, knowing she will not be a she at the great event.

With passionate and delicate negotiations, a well as innumerable shuttles between the fitting rooms, a compromise was reached. It was here my future sister in law kept the family from disintegrating into one massive quarrel. Darlene told me she's a union negotiator, and by George she managed to find a compromise between the fervently held tastes of these assorted females as they tried to agree on a common theme. June was in a deep green and I in a reddish-brownish color that undoubtedly has a name I am unaware of. In deference to my Adam's apple the dresses had high necklines, but I was going to have to remove my arm hair in order to cope with the short, puffy sleeves on my dress. They were high waisted, the better for those of us with no waist, and full skirted, just dandy for a slow walk down the aisle. The phrase "starving actor" ran through my head once more as we paid the bill.

I thought the ordeal was over, but it wasn't to be so easy. After stowing the boxes in the van my torturers dragged me into some lingerie store with an unbearably cute name. Even though no one was going to see what was under our clothes, it appeared that new underwear was essential for brides and bridesmaids. I thus acquired my first (and I hope only) colored bra and a set of panties to go with it.

I hope you aren't too disappointed that we didn't buy girdles or corsets or sexy garters and stockings. I know some of you crossdressers get off on that stuff, but I dare you to find any of those items in a mall store that caters to real women. Today's women aren't going to wear that kind of crap unless they intend to lead some guy into bed in the very near future, in which case they will take it all off as things get serious.

Hell, June tells me it's getting hard to find a simple slip in a women's store these days, let alone a girdle. If you want to find gartered stockings you had better be prepared to browse among the whips and chains at a specialty shop tucked onto a back alley somewhere. Unless you live in someplace like New York you have to shop the catalogs for that stuff, and even with overnight delivery it wouldn't be here in time for the wedding.

Two tasks down, one to go - but first it was time for lunch. Being very careful not to drop food on my breasts in public, lunch was a haven of quiet after a hectic morning. Except for my cheeks itching abominably and the irrational feeling my stubble was poking through my foundation I was feeling very relaxed in my role. By tacit agreement we avoided any talk of the wedding and kept our discussion to neutral topics. I noticed a distinctly different tenor to the conversation than I had encountered among mixed company or exclusively male gatherings.

The jokes were often pointed, but not personally nasty. The others generally listened more intently as someone spoke and there was a feeling of shared confidences, even on the most open subjects. A good story begat another good anecdote, but there was no sense of the one-upmanship typically found among men. Even a cynical old grouch like me fell into a more accepting attitude. For the first time I started to live the role of a woman comfortably. I stopped consciously studying mannerisms, vocal tones and attitudes; abandoned scrutiny of the others reactions to me and just reacted without conscious thought. By the end of the meal I was no longer an actor learning a part, but was a person living in a comfortable new persona, and I hadn't dropped any food on my tits, either.

Eventually the conversation got around to the honeymoon. Since June was practically purple with curiosity I was surprised she had waited this long to pump Mamma Millie.

"I'm afraid you're going to be vexed with me again, darling. We aren't going anywhere at all. We did get a king size bed that the boys can move for us tomorrow, that should be a good start."

"Mother!"

Why is it that children can never cope with their parents as sexual beings? My wife is as happily horny as a man could wish for, and I know she has discussed (Men boast, women discuss. Truly!) our exploits in and out of the covers with certain close friends. Of course we weren't talking about my mother so I can afford to be smug.

"Now darling, don't get you knickers in a knot. Really, I can't leave my students without a teacher right now and the feed store is still pretty busy. Would a few weeks cruising the Caribbean over winter break be romantic enough to suit you?

"Mother, you are enjoying this!"

"Of course I am, darling. Shouldn't a woman enjoy her wedding day?"

"Mother! You know perfectly well what I mean!"

"Of course I do, darling."

We had one last stop to make, picking up the tuxes. The kid at the counter looked a mite confused as five women entered the normally male establishment. Here Darlene faced a truly odd dilemma. Normally one would try on a tux to be sure it fit properly, but Darlene was hardly dressed for the occasion. I savored the delicious irony of watching a crossdresser reluctant to try on her new clothes, but I had underestimated Darlene.

"Hello, Harold." She had read his nametag, of course. "We're here to pick up some tuxes reserved for Pat Connors." Ah, mystery solved, he knew what to do. He consulted the computer on the desk, then the kid disappeared into the back and came out with the goods. "Thank you, Harold. Now I know this seems a bit unusual, but I need to have you fit me for a tux. I do hope you have something in stock on such short notice." The confused look returned.

"You want to get a tux?" he asked.

"Yes, Harold, I intend to have a bit of fun with my brother at this party. Now I've never done anything like this before, so I really need your help. I suppose I'll need something like the other two are wearing, but I want to have a bit more flair if you know what I mean. Just what do we do first?"

You don't know your size, do you?" the kid squeaked.

"Well, I don't suppose 40C would be too meaningful here, would it?" The kid was definitely turning red. "I suppose you must have a tape measure around here, perhaps that would be a good place to start."

The kid was verging on purple as he nodded vigorously. The four of us were having a very hard time maintaining a decorous demeanor as Darlene led the kid on. Eventually he found a tape, but there was a noticeable hesitation as he approached Darlene.

"Harold, I'm sure a professional such as yourself will be up to this. Just treat me like you would any man who needs formal clothing."

That did it! June had a major coughing fit and her mother escorted her from the shop. Jenny fell into one of the chairs in the waiting area and groped in her purse for a handkerchief. Me, I just had to watch the show. Every actor dreams of being a playwright and I don't think anyone had hit on this particular plot line before. Harold very gingerly placed the tape under Darlene's breasts, 40 inches with no letters attached.

"I'm afraid nature saw fit to endow me with rather small hips, so I think my normal waist size should be close enough, don't you Harold?" The tape descended and the measurement was made. Poor Harold stood there, tape in hand, in an agony of indecision.

"Is that all or is there something else you need to fit me properly?" Darlene wasn't going to let the kid off easily.

"Ma'am, we usually have to measure the inseam for the pants but you aren't wearing pants!" The poor kid was practically wailing.

"Harold," I just had to help the poor kid. "If you'll lend me that tape and show me the dressing room I would be glad to take the measurement for you."

He practically threw the measure at me and wordlessly pointed. I took Darlene by the arm and we entered the small room together.

"Darlene, that was one of the meanest, nastiest things I have ever seen and I just wish I had thought of it myself! You had better adopt that kid and teach him to crossdress because he'll never be able to approach a woman again without severe trauma. You, my dear seem to have single-handedly invented the art of double-cross dressing. My sincere congratulations!"

The two of us began to giggle, fighting to stay in character and not let our normal male laughter escape our lips.

"Darlene, I will be damned if I am going to use this tape on you, unless I wrap it around you neck, so just tell me your inseam and let me out of here!"

The measurement was duly delivered to Harold, who again consulted his computer. Unfortunately there was nothing available in the same style as the other two tuxes. We spent some time looking at the stylebooks and Darlene made her decision just as Millie and June reentered the shop with their faces under control.

"Mother, wouldn't Pat look just stunning in a white tux? Harold, do you have this lovely white tux in Mr. Connor's size?" A few clicks on the keyboard and it appeared he didn't. "Then perhaps you can find the right sizes in this brown crushed velvet." Click-click. No. "Let's try the forest green. Click-click. Bingo! The exchange was made and the tux shop returned to its former male dominated status, much to the relief of the poor, bedraggled Harold.

Five dignified and well comported women made their way back to the van, but once inside they magically transformed into five silly schoolgirls sharing a delicious joke.

"Just treat me like a man! Darlene, you are even more exasperating as my daughter than you were as my son. That poor boy!" Darlene just grinned broadly. "To think I would have missed this if you had let me elope quietly."

The ride home was uneventful and once we unloaded our packages there was little to do for a while. Darlene got first crack at the bathroom. I took my turn and removed my barely noticeable stubble and returned to the bedroom to do my makeup. I had just finished applying the beard cover when June walked in and distracted me as I her image in the mirror began to undress. Her skirt hit the floor and with a graceful motion her blouse soon followed. She approached and my head was soon nestled in the warm valley of her breasts and her hands traced intricate paths along my arms and shoulders. So OK, this is where the obligatory sex scene should occur, but I was so busy having sex I didn't take notes. Since I took my clothes off most crossdressers won't be interested anyway. You'll just have to try another author if you want purple prose so badly.

With that disappointment I will end my part of this narrative. Just to ease your mind we did try it again later in the weekend and the results were more in line with the TG stories. Feeling a skirt swirl around your calves can be almost as good as it sounds when reading about it, so even a cynic such as I can admit I'm wrong, at least this once.

Don't worry, Darlene should find occasion to play with Jenny before the story is over, but I hope she won't find out I'm reading about it until there a good many miles between us.

Darlene
Things were very quiet around the old homestead that afternoon. After I had shaved I returned to the bedroom to renew my makeup and found Jenny sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. From the silence that reigned in the old house I assumed she was not alone. Since I wasn't tired I took my book and went downstairs. Even if it had stopped raining, the weather was cool and I decided a fire would be just lovely. I hauled in some wood from the front porch, laughing at the memory of how much I hated doing this as a kid, especially when it was coated with ice.

With a cheery blaze filling the room with warmth I settled back in the lounger, arranged my skirt and opened my book, feeling very much like a heroine in an old novel. After a while I achieved that state of nirvana where reading and snoozing alternate seamlessly. I lay languid in the chair, absently enjoying the weight of my breast forms as they nestled against my body, opening my eyes occasionally to read another paragraph or two and then slipping back into a doze until a sudden gust of cold air woke me.

The front door opened and in came Pat and Chuck. My peaceful bliss shattered as the familiar panic of a trapped crossdresser replaced it when I saw Chuck enter. The recliner made it impossible to move suddenly, which is the only thing that saved me from dashing from the room in embarrassment and terror. I stared at him, far more mature than the kid I had remembered. He sported a full beard, medium length hair and looked fit and trim, but he was obviously as nervous as I was.

"Good afternoon, Darlene. Is Millie around?" Pat spoke in a perfectly normal voice and my heart started to resume a more normal rhythm. It took a little longer to find my voice.

"Everyone is napping as far as I can tell. Come in, sit down and enjoy the fire until they wake up." The perfect hostess, that's me. "Hi, Chuck. It's really me."

"Yeah."

With an effort I reached for my normal voice. "Chuck, I really am your old buddy Don, but this is a part of me too, one that I couldn't tell you about when we were kids."

"Yeah."

Pat hugged his son and urged him to the couch. "Kind of hard to take in, isn't it Chuck?"

"Yeah.

This conversation was getting nowhere.

"Jesus, Don. You really like dressing like that?"

Well, I suppose that was better than 'Yeah'.

"Yeah."

I flatter myself that I mimicked his tone perfectly. The deadpan humor penetrated his shock and the tension dissolved.

"Yeah, Chuck, I really like dressing like this, and I have been doing it as long as I can remember."

I launched into the standard Crossdressing 101 lecture, which I'll spare you because you must have heard it before, then conducted the Q&A session afterward. My mother's professorial influence at work, no doubt.

"OK, you two It's my turn now. Chuck, I have been dying to know how you found out about Darlene since your dad told me last night. I would have beat it out of him there and then if he hadn't dropped his own bombshell. Give, old buddy, I thought I had gotten away clean."

"Yeah."

Jeez — not again?

"OK," he continued. "I guess I had pretty much convinced myself I was seeing things after all these years. Remember when I got my first car?"

"How could I forget? You must have showed it to every person in town except me and worn their ear off telling them what you were going to do with it! I was really pissed you took off for school without letting me see it. Whatever happened to the old clunker?

"It rusted out and the engine finally died, so it got dragged to the junkyard. I hated to do that, it was a great car. Anyway, I wanted you to be the first one to see it, so I drove up here to show you. I knew you had to be here because the car was here but nobody answered the bell. I just walked in and saw June on the back porch with a couple of her friends. Since they didn't know I was there I took the time to check them out, June is a good looking lady and so was her friend. It took a few minutes before I realized the third one was you.

"Christ, Don, I hadn't a clue what to do. I mean, my best buddy was sitting out there in a goddamn dress! I sneaked back out and went home and hid out in my room until Pop finally asked what was wrong."

"Not that I was able to tell him much, Darlene." I was pleased that Pat had the kindness to call me 'Darlene' right then. "Remember that was the time when Kirsten left us and with the divorce I was pretty messed up myself. To tell you the truth I wasn't sure I believed Chuck, it just seemed too weird. Anyway, with the both of you gone it just got forgotten after a while."

"Yeah. When I got to school I eventually met some openly gay folks and finally got the nerve to ask one guy I knew about it. Funny thing is he didn't know any more than I did. Josh was a cool dude, he got to be a pretty good friend by the time we graduated.

For a while I was feeling pretty proud of myself for having a gay friend until I realized I was being just as prejudiced at the other end of the scale because I was so damn liberal. I guess it's like with my black friends. We're friends, but I'll always be very aware they're black, just like I'm always aware that Josh is gay. He's never made a pass at me, no more than most of my female friends have ever made a pass at me, but because he doesn't quite fit the ideas I grew up with I'm always going think of him as a gay man instead of just a man."

"So how are you going to think of your old buddy Don now?"

"Jeez, I don't know. All the way up here I was hoping I would find the guy I grew up with still sitting here, no different than when we lost touch over the years. I know that's dumb but that's what I wanted. I just don't know how I feel right now. I don't think I would have given you a second glance if I had seen you somewhere else but when I look close I can see you're Don. It's still too new and weird right now."

"Yeah, it is hard to get used to. Not that I'm out to that many people, but it takes some time. If it's any consolation you'll be standing next to Don tomorrow at the wedding."

"Yeah, Pop told me." He paused. "You really grew up wearing dresses and your mom and sister let you?"

"Let me? It was June who started the whole thing before I was old enough to know it was odd. It wasn't until I was about eight I figured out I shouldn't tell anyone about it."

"And your mom just let you? Even in high school? I don't get it!"

"Charles, his mother was an overworked and overage radical feminist college student when he was in high school."

We all jumped as my mother's voice joined the conversation. We had been so intent on each other we hadn't even noticed her.

"My friends took it as a given that men were completely useless, a drag on society that should be abolished. At that time I believed them and it struck me then that having a son who wanted to be my daughter was a blow for liberation. Of course that was a load of crap, but when you're a freshly reborn radical you can blithely ignore the details and keep ranting."

"Well, you succeeded in raising two committed feminists, mother."

"Damn right I did! Charles, it wasn't as if Don dressed up every day when he got home from school, you know. By that time both he and June were pretty busy with all their interests, but every so often they had one of their tea parties and seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. He was so cute when he was a baby that I just laughed when June dressed him up. I hadn't really realized quite how much Don enjoyed being Darlene as he got older because I spent so much time away at work and school. Wasn't it your freshman year when I came home late one night and you were wearing a nightgown?"

"Uh-huh. Mother, I was wearing a nightgown almost every night after June went to college. I hate to tell you this, mom, but I got dressed up just about whenever you left the house and mostly I tried to change back before you got home. You were pretty cool about it, but I was still a bit shy even so. The hardest part was making sure I hadn't left anything suspicious around when Chuckie spent the night. I guess you never figured it out, did you Chuck?"

"Jeez, I can't figure any of this out. It's like there's a whole new person I never got to know before. I wish I had really been seeing things and this weren't happening."

"Well, there were times I wished I was normal, or at least what most people thought of as normal, too. It took me a while to realize I was happy as I was and I really didn't want to change. Chuck, you and your dad are the first people I grew up with to know about Darlene, and I really don't know how to handle the situation either. I had no idea this would happen when we came down for Thanksgiving. If you're uncomfortable I am perfectly willing to go upstairs and change my clothes."

"Aw jeez — I guess I can take it. I've been staring at your ugly mug for half an hour and it hasn't turned me into a toad or anything."

"I don't think anyone would notice a difference unless you suddenly said 'Ribbit'!"

"Children, no fighting, mother commands it. If we intend to eat tonight we had better start cooking. Darlene, you are the resident culinary genius so let's look through the freezer and see what we can come up with."

I rose and couldn't help doing a little spin to flare out my skirt as I left the room. Chuck made a choking noise but I didn't stop to investigate. We settled on chicken vindaloo, so I put the chicken in the microwave to thaw and called out to the living room.

"Chuckie! This is a non-discriminatory household and men are presumed to be competent in the kitchen. Get in here and chop some onions for me."

I really did want to catch up with my old friend's life, and with the distraction of kitchen chores we were soon comfortably filling each other in on our lives. People started drifting in as the scent of Indian spices wafted through the house. Each was soon drafted to set the table or some other useful task like washing last night's dishes; they still hadn't gone away. Eventually we were all seated at the table and spooning the fragrant sauce over mounds of basmati rice. The rest of the evening passed quietly, in the warm glow of family, good conversation and friendship

---

Saturday dawned clear and cool, a lovely bright day filled with romance. In your dreams, it did. I got dragged out of bed far too early and took the pickup down to town where we filled it with the things Pat was moving into mom's place. No skirts, flounce or femininity; just sweat and toil moving schlepping boxes and bales. I was jealous of Steve, who remained incognito as Stephanie so the town wouldn't start buzzing about why mom's son in law could move furniture but not attend her wedding. Actually, we didn't move too much furniture, since the house was already well furnished. Most of the big things stayed to be sold later, we moved the personal stuff you accumulate over a lifetime in one house. We also picked up the new king size bed, not neglecting to speculate about its use for Pat. Just us guys there, the jokes were predictable.

The boxes were stashed in the barn for the duration, after all there was company coming. We shoehorned the bed and Pat's dresser in the bedroom, squeezed his clothes in the closet and broke for lunch. Afterward the battle of the bathroom began. Three o'clock was rapidly approaching and we all wanted to look our best. Twice Jenny & I heard the door of the bathroom open and tried to get in, but were beaten out by those with closer bedrooms. What the heck, if we had to wait, why not do something fun?

I casually placed my arms around Jenny and weighed her lovely breasts in my hand. Her warm and yielding flesh was alive in my palms and my fingers soon found her nipples beneath the soft fabric of her robe. Somewhere in the back of my awareness I heard the bathroom door open. Rats! Infuriating people, why couldn't they have taken longer?

"Bathroom! Quick before someone else takes it!"

Like Steph said, women are a practical species.

June
Bong! The grandfather clock in the front hall chimed one o'clock. We had moved some extraneous furniture from the living room to make room for people. Then we set up the motley assortment of folding chairs that had accumulated in the old house over the years, leaving the requisite aisle for the bride and groom in the center. The huge living room of the old farmhouse was certainly big enough for the twenty of so guests we expected.

Bong-Bong! Grandpa reminded us as the caterer's came and the flowers arrived.

Bong-bong-bong! Only an hour to go, grandpa announced. Steph and I were making ourselves beautiful while Don wandered around doing useless things to kill time. He was ready early, after all how long does it take to put on a tux and comb your hair? I think my baby brother was really regretting his nobility and dreaming of being a bridesmaid. Well, Jenny and I were going to rectify that when they got married. Darlene didn't know it yet but we had already started planning a two bride ceremony.

The guests started to arrive, but grandpa didn't say a thing. The old coot reserved his comments for 15 minute intervals despite the festivities surrounding him. At least Don had something to do now, he and Chuck seated the guests while enduring variations on the theme of 'My how you've grown' from certain older women in the crowd. Henry arrived and set his book on the table in front of the crowd and proceeded to beam happily at the assemblage. One by one we descended the stairs and cowered in the kitchen, awaiting the signal to emerge.

Bong-bong-bong-bong! Chuck and Don checked in the kitchen — all accounted for. I checked the guest list, all present. Time to get the show on the road. Jenny slipped in the tape into the stereo and Henry Purcell's Prelude in G (downloaded from the net last night at great length over the lousy dial up connection and hastily dubbed to tape) began, so I took Chuck's arm and we made their way down the aisle. Don offered an arm to Stephanie and followed us

I'm glad the wedding party is supposed to turn around before the bride comes down the aisle because I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for anything. At first it was amusing to see my brother take my husband's arm and escort her down the aisle, but part way down something else intruded on my thoughts. Here were the two very important men in my life, both of whom I had encouraged to crossdress, arm in arm at my mother's wedding. Oddly enough, my brother, who really wanted to be a bridesmaid so badly it hurt was his mundane self while my husband, who was still protesting the state of his attire, was wearing a lovely dress and clutching a bouquet of flowers. She looked radiant, completely feminine and utterly convincing as a woman of middle years.

She also looked sexy. Yeah, sexy, at least to me. Now that was something I wasn't expecting. I defy anyone to get excited seeing their baby brother in a dress, so I had never really connected crossdressing with being aroused. Here I was in the middle of a wedding having olfactory hallucinations of grapefruit watching my husband walk up the aisle. They had to be hallucinations because Darlene had loaned Stephanie her forms - grapefruit was just so not suitable for wedding!

My reverie was broken when the music stopped and then the tape started to play the traditional Wedding March, which was about the only thing traditional in this wedding. Mom was gorgeous in her gown, Pat was resplendent in his tux, the two of them holding hands as they walked down the aisle. The room seemed to light with their love as they made their way foreword to stand in front of Henry.

The ceremony itself was brief, the words the much like the ones you could hear at any wedding anywhere in the world. The words "I do!" rang out clear and joyous as they pledged themselves to each other and then it was over. Over except for the hugging, kissing, crying and congratulations that is. Don was first to kiss the bride, neatly cutting Chuckie out by the way.

"And you were going to elope!" Don taunted mom. "Really, this older generation just doesn't appreciate the traditional way of doing things." He thus became the first one to get clobbered by the bride.

"Donald William Leget, I've not been married for five minutes and you are already questioning my judgment. I'll have you know you are completely correct and, much as it pains me to admit it, I'm glad you youngsters talked me into it. Just don't think it well become a habit. We old married women can make up our own minds, you know."

"Hummm…" This from Pat. "It seems you haven't lost your knack of ranting, my love. I was lucky to get you to shut up long enough to propose, you know."

"Patrick Xavier Connors," All three of his names, we were in serious trouble here. "I shamelessly manipulated you into that proposal pure and simple. It wasn't hard to do, either! I wasn't going to bruise your fragile male ego by proposing to you."

By now the entire room was listening and this was greeted with gales of laughter. Soon the guests were going down the receiving line and gently chiding mother themselves. I could see the curious looks that Stephanie was receiving, just who was this unknown woman in the wedding party?

"Mrs. Billings, how wonderful to see you. I don't think you've meet my dear friend Stephanie from Chicago. She came up with me when my husband couldn't make it and graciously kept my brother from being unbalanced when mother sprung this wedding on us."

"A hopeless case, June. We all know Don has been unbalanced for years. If it were possible to straighten him out someone would have done it by now."

"I will have you know," my brother drew himself up haughtily to full height," that I am the very model of rectitude for this family. However, there may be some truth to my sister's base canard because I intend to get just a little bit tipsy on Champaign before the afternoon is over."

"You're right, Mrs. Billings, he's completely hopeless. Have you met Jenny yet? She's taken on the task of trying to keep him sober long enough to say "I do" to her without slurring the words."

"Children!" Mom didn't have to shout, she used what Don so aptly termed her command voice. "This is my wedding and you will not spoil it by bickering. Both of you behave yourselves."

"Marriage hasn't mellowed her a bit, has it Donnie? As soon as we start having fun mom yells at us."

"Yeah. Mother, shut up and kiss your husband while I play with my sister."

And so it went. Good natured joking, lots of hugging and catching up with old friends. Steve was marvelous, socializing in the role of Stephanie without a trace of hesitation. He was going to be magnificent as Tootsie! He was still claiming that crossdressing was strictly business, but I know him better than that. I had really enjoyed having a girlfriend around the house these last couple of weeks and I had no doubt that his dresses would be hanging in our closet long after the play closed. I taught my brother to enjoy his feminine side and I was confident of my ability to do the same with my husband. Besides, Jenny wants both of us in their wedding party. Since there are going to be two brides, there just won't be a place for Steve. No problem at all!

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.