Kate, Part 1 Tales of Manure and Metamorphosis By Ricky

DISCLAIMER: I have known several students and faculty from SUNY Brockport and it makes a good setting for the story, but the people, events and school procedures in this story are purely from my own imagination, created to make the story go where I want it to go. The quotations from school policies are accurate as of the time of writing.

The damn fool window was stuck.

I whacked at it a few times, then strained my muscles against the painted wood, but it remained stubbornly in place. Since I had slid down the storm window last November I had been perfectly happy to have the thing firmly in the closed position while the wind and snow blew around the old house in the country. Despite the calendar reading January 13, 2005, Spring had made a preview appearance and I wanted to let it in the house.

Stubborn thing. At last I went down in the basement to see what might be found among the odd tools and just plain junk that had been left by the previous tenants. A very rusty hammer hung on a rack and an old putty knife, crusted with dried glop of some kind, was buried in a box of disused tools. A few blows from the hammer and most of the glop cracked away from the blade.

I returned upstairs and beat on the window for a minute and then pulled once more. Reluctantly it slid upward and the utterly unseasonal 70° breeze pushed itself inside the old farmhouse. I repeated my physical violence on a few other windows and soon the wonderful scent of warming earth filled the place.

Now 70° in the middle of summer would be called chilly, but after months of freezing weather (it was only 32° two days ago!) I gazed over the farmland that surrounded me and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. I had been incredibly fortunate to find this place to rent. It was an old cottage that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, but in less than five minutes I could be at the Wegmans Supermarket or the Wal-mart. It had been the original building, built by what grew to be a large farming family back when family farms were viable and prosperous. Fifty feet to the left, as I sat on my back porch, was the vast old farmhouse with it's great, faded red barn that had replaced the small cottage when times were good. The rambling old place had been added to whenever times got better and was typical of country homes of that era.

The rotting ruins of two other family houses dotted the road a bit further down, having been abandoned as too expensive to keep up and too far from the city to be sold or rented when times got bad. Until a couple of years ago, when they had extended the four-lane, Brockport had been pretty quiet except for the students at the venerable College where I worked. Now it was 20 easy minutes from downtown Rochester and Brockport was turning into a bedroom community.

Which explained why my bedroom window looked out on the fields. I loved the old place and the rent was half what I would pay for some modern townhouse. I dare you to show me a townhouse with a couple of acres of land around it, let alone a garden for the tenant.

The cottage now satisfactorily (and naturally!) air conditioned, I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed a rake from the porch and set forth with a will to clear winter's accumulation from the lawn and garden. I had amassed quite a pile and was starting to fill a garbage can when my concentration was interrupted.

"My, you are the ambitious one, aren't you? It may be January, but you're going to look like a lobster if you don't find a hat, you know. I would have thought a redhead would know better."

It was Stephanie, my neighbor and landlady. She is a rather good looking woman, generously padded in all the right places. At about 5' 10" she was a tall and striking. She could look me straight in the eye without having to crane her neck, which was a shame because that would have emphasized her long, dark hair. With her gracious movements and regal bearing she was even more stunning than I had remembered. Since I had rented the place a year ago last fall she was invariably clad in warm, bulky sweaters during the winters and rather frumpy clothes in the warmer weather. I guess the big, old farmhouse must have been expensive to heat, but from talking to her I gathered that wasn't the only reason she usually concealed her (I speculated) fine figure. This remarkably warm day in January must have lowered her inhibitions.

I had gotten to know a little about her since I moved in. Whenever I dropped by with the rent check she would usually invite me in for a cup of coffee and whatever homemade goodies she had baked. We shared a passion for gardening and education. She taught the 2nd grade and I was a lowly adjunct professor of English, hoping someday to get tenured and stop moving around to someplace new every few years. She had been rather distant when I first moved in, but had thawed as time went on. She was easy to talk to and more than once we had sat gabbing at her kitchen table for several hours, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.

The sudden arrival of warm weather must have released her inhibitions. I had certainly been right about the figure. For the first time ever she proved to have cleavage. Lots of it, but I tried to behave as a gentleman should.

"Well, I do know better," I finally replied, "but it's such a beautiful day I couldn't wait to do something with the garden. I don't even own a hat."

"Typical man, you typical man. Wait here a second."

She took off for the big red barn and disappeared inside. A moment later she came out and before I knew it she had placed a hat on my head. Not just a hat, but a wide brimmed straw hat even more absurd than the one she wore, decorated in artificial flowers and with a long cluster of ribbons hanging to one side.

"There, that's better. Now you won't have to worry about having your nose match your hair."

"Thanks, I think. Would it be gauche to point out that your hat is not going to do much to protect you in that outfit?"

"Probably, but who cares? Besides, I've still got sunscreen from last summer and used it before I came out."

"Such a sad thing, a woman as lovely as yourself being so efficient and sensible, it is, it is."

You never can tell; with my red hair I can sometimes get away with a phony Irish accent even if my ancestors had never been within hailing distance of the Emerald Isle. I wouldn't be at all surprised if some roguish resident of the Emerald Isles had gotten considerably closer than that to one of my umpty-great grandmothers, though. People see what they expect; when you have red hair you're expected to be Irish.

"Hey, can I borrow your spade? I'm going to need to shovel the shit if you keep that stuff up. Remember, I did a background check on you when you rented the place."

"Aye, and a bonnie braugh business women as well. 'Tis just as well as you've caught me out as I have just about run out of blarney, in any case." I dropped the phony accent and continued. "Too bad I didn't think to store up some sunscreen. Who would have thought summer would arrive in January?"

"Not me. The weatherman says it will be in the twenties by tomorrow evening, though."

"Naturally! Nevertheless, I've been wishing I could take off this shirt for a good while now. I suppose it's just as well, I must look pale as an old fish after a winter indoors."

"As long as you don't smell like one I have a strong stomach. Take off your shirt and I'll let you use some of my sunscreen."

She was off and loping to her place before I could even say thank you. I couldn't help noticing how she looked as she jogged to the door. Despite the patches of snow lingering on the ground, her tank top and shorts left very to the imagination, and I have a very good imagination. Indeed, it was a bit of a struggle not to be staring down her cleavage as we spoke. She returned at a more sedate pace and handed me the tube of sunscreen. I somewhat self-consciously removed my shirt and applied the white goop.

"Here, let me get your back." she offered. She had strong hands, she would have made a great masseuse. "There. At least you don't have to worry about tan lines, you lucky man."

"Didn't the courts rule a few years ago that women can go topless in public as long as it isn't for, as they so delicately put it, 'business purposes'? You gotta love the New York legal system."

"What a shame! I guess that means there won't be any picnics at the Klassy Kat this summer." The Klassy Kat was a "gentleman's club" that made the news with some regularity.

"I suppose way out here you could dress as you pleased and no one would be the wiser."

"Not unless you're planning to go blind in the next few minutes, buster. I could scratch your eyes out if it would help...."

"Heaven forgive me lass, me tongue got ahead of me brain for a second. I'd be keeping me eyes as they are, 'tis all the same to you."

"Yeah, and I know just where you've been keeping your eyes, buster." She said as she glanced downward to her ample bosom. From years of experience I estimated her to be a D cup. So sue me if you think I'm a sexist to make the observation.

"Was I that obvious?"

"Nah, you're pretty good about it." She started to giggle. "Go ahead and look, I'm used to it, you know," although her tone belied her words.

"Well, to tell you the truth, since I'm lacking any significant cleavage, I really don't know of my own knowledge." I quipped.

"What are you planning for the garden?" she changed subjects.

So we discussed the ABCs - alyssums, bellflowers and columbines - for the next little while and I showed her my sketches and plans for the flowers. She showed me the pictures of her garden from last year, quite an elaborate affair. Before long we were arguing who was going to cook supper for who. We compromised with her cooking the main dish and me supplying dessert. An altogether wonderful day in the country. She left with a promise to work together in her potting shed tomorrow.

Funny, ever since I had lived here it had been just me and the occasional mouse and the place felt like home. When she left, the cottage felt strangely lonely.

---

As is typical of Upstate New York, the next morning dawned dull and wet. Gone was the sunshine and in its place was 60 ° damp and fog. I really should get in the habit of consulting the weatherman before agreeing to an outdoor date. There was a fog of slumber in my head as well and it didn't seem to be clearing any faster than the fog outside. The phone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"You don't sound very awake."

"That's because I'm not. Where did the sun go?"

"Behind those clouds over your head. The ones with the silver linings. There's a heater in the potting shed, so we won't freeze."

"Yeah, but you won't be wearing your tank top this time." Did I really say that out loud?

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'll wear a tight sweater if that helps, but I'm going to be wearing a sweater."

I guess I did say that out loud. I should know better to answer the phone before I've had my coffee.

"You sound like you need a cup of coffee. Come on over and I'll even throw in some home fries and bacon." The woman was a mind reader.

"I'm on my way as soon as I find a sweater myself."

"Great! I'm wearing blue in case you want to color co-ordinate." She hung up the phone.

I stumbled into the bathroom and relieved myself. Although I usually go through the weekend without shaving without anyone being the wiser, I scraped the whiskers from my chin and sniffed my pits — still OK. After all, I had showered the day's labor off last night before going to bed, no need for a shower this morning.

Blue, huh? Who ever heard of color coordinating clothes to work in a potting shed? Well, I did have a faded denim shirt and plenty of blue jeans, so that's what I put on. Just for the fun of it I added a large red bandana around my neck (very cowboy) before I left.

It was raining harder now and darned if I could find the umbrella. I was resigned to getting soaked when I spied Stephanie's hat from yesterday. Sun hat it might be, but it would keep the rain off me for the short run to the main house. It worked well enough and I was still shaking the water off me on the enclosed porch when she opened the door.

"Nice, but the hat doesn't go with blue. I'll have to find something better for you. Wouldn't want you to appear in the 'fashion don'ts' of the tabloids."

"Strange, I haven't noticed any paparazzi hiding in the bushes. You don't have Elizabeth Taylor stashed in the back room, do you?"

"No, but you do look a bit like a bedraggled Katherine Hepburn this morning. I've never breakfasted with a movie star before."

"I guess it's a good thing I phoned up Leo before I came over and told him to stay home. Once it gets sunny I can take you home to meet my parents and we could play a round of croquet. We'll see how far the resemblance stretches."

"It would take a better Aviator than you to get that one to fly! Besides, you're an optimist. It could be months before it gets sunny again."

"Don't I know it! Why don't we live in Florida?"

"You ever been in a Florida thunderstorm?"

"Nope."

"That's why I live up here. That hat would be washed off your head and you'd be up to your pretty little knees in water before you knew it."

"Gosh, I didn't know I had pretty knees. How can you tell?"

"Your slip was showing yesterday. No, you phony Irish idjit, you have holes in the knees of your work pants. You do have nice knees."

"Well, in that tank top you have nice..."

"We better not go there quite yet, Kate. Breakfast is ready."

So I shut up and ate, not regretting it one bit. It had been a long time since a woman had cooked me breakfast - and I hadn't even slept with her.

Yet.

Afterward, we spent a companionable morning in the potting shed. It was still too early to plant anything, but with cleanup and preparing the soil mix and such tasks we whiled away the time to the roar of the propane heater. As lunchtime was nearing we were preparing a large flowerpot with topsoil and genuine horse manure from the stable just down the street. Stephanie was struggling to get the top off the large container she had transported it in when she yanked too hard and it opened all at once. I found out why she had kept it tightly covered when several large blobs landed on me, including one that completely covered my glasses.

Damned lucky I was wearing glasses.

Stephanie was abject in her apologies as I tried in vain to remove the smelly glop. I can't see crap with them off and, most assuredly, I was seeing crap with them on. This was a dilemma of the first order. She took my hand and led me to the house. I hesitated at the door of the house.

"You don't really want me to come inside like this, do you?"

"Well, now that you mention it you do have a certain robust fragrance about you. Is it too much to ask you to take off your clothes and shoes?"

"Somehow when I pictured getting naked with you I had a somewhat different scene in my head."

"Let it stay there, fella. I have no intention of getting naked with you. You are going to be all alone in your nakedness while I toss these clothes in the compost heap. I'm going to run across to your place and get you something to wear while you shower. If you're nice I might even clean your glasses so you can see again."

In my shorts, she led me to the bathroom and left me to find the shower in my half blind condition. I can see well enough to know that the large, pink blob on my right must be the tub. I groped for the silvery blob at one end and was rewarded by a spray of water.

The hot water felt wonderful as it rinsed the crap out of my hair and off my body. Funny how I had never contemplated doing that literally, but I was sure grateful for being clean again. I groped for what had to be a bottle and brought it close enough to read in my nearsighted condition. Conditioner. Try again. Shampoo this time, with half a dozen floral scents in it. Not my usual but better than horseshit by a long shot. I found the conditioner again and used it.

I had come out of the whole ordeal smelling like a rose. Literally. There was a knock on the door as I dried myself off.

"Are you decent?"

What a straight line! I had to restrain myself. I wrapped the towel around my nether regions and opened the door. The nice warm air of the bathroom dissipated quickly as the cool air pushed its way rudely in.

I was confronted by a drowned rat. Stephanie's hair streamed down her body and clung to her breasts, dripping slowly on the floor as she stood there. I thought I could see her bra through the soaking wet, tight blue sweater, but to be sure I would have had to get much closer without my glasses. I didn't think that was a wise course of action quite yet. She held a plastic bag with my fresh clothes in it, which drew my eyes from what I would, in other conditions, have been examining closely.

"You look wetter than I am. Maybe you should have taken me up on that offer of getting naked before I took a shower."

"Smartass. You aren't the one with a soaking wet bra sticking to your tits. Who needs a shower when Mother Nature is dumping her bathtub just outside the door.

"I suppose if I were to be wearing a bra I would appreciate it being dry and warm."

"You want I should loan you one? Here's your clothes."

"Thanks. I do appreciate it, Steph."

"No problem. Get dressed while I change."

She grabbed a towel from the linen closet and closed the door behind her. I opened the bag and took out a pair of underwear, then put them on, but when I pulled out the pants there was a problem. I suppose Stephanie hadn't felt comfortable rifling through all my drawers to find me something to wear, so she had taken the first things she saw in the top drawer of the dresser by my bedroom door. The problem was, it was the wrong dresser. Those clothes were from many years ago when I was less of a man than I am now. By about 30 pounds. I had never gotten around to sending them off to the Salvation Army or some such, convincing myself that some day I would lose that weight and fit into them again. There was no way I was going to be able to hook the waistband, let alone zip the zipper.

Maybe I could squeeze into the shirt but why bother when I wasn't wearing any pants? I wrapped my trusty towel around me and left the sanctuary of the bathroom.

"Steph?" I stood shivering as I called. There was a muffled response, so I waited. Eventually she came out of her bedroom, looking much drier in a warm cable knit sweater and a woolen skirt, her hair wrapped in the towel. Her eyes widened and she did a great one eyebrow interrogation while I stood there in my damp towel and shorts.

"Let me guess, you still have ideas about getting naked with me - or are you waiting for that bra?"

"Not as my first priority. You managed to find my old clothes. They — uh — don't fit any more." I shivered again.

"Crap! Do you get the feeling we're caught in some French farce? Too bad I don't have a husband. If this were a play he would ring the bell right about now and I'd have to hide you in a wardrobe or something."

"Well, at least there might be something warm in the wardrobe. I'm freezing."

At that particular second the phone started to ring. We both cracked up and she could hardly speak as she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Hi Mom!"

"You're what? "

"It figures... No, not you. I'll explain in a minute. Bye."

She hung up the phone.

"You get your choice — hide in my wardrobe, put on my bathrobe or shiver yourself to death. Mom's out in the driveway. She called on her cell so I could open the door for her so she won't drown waiting for me to open the door."

I took the bathrobe. Who knows how long they would talk and a wardrobe can be damned uncomfortable. How do I know? Once in my misspent youth I had occasion to hide in one. Don't ask for details, it's too painful to remember.

---

"Good Lord, girl! Are you planning to start a stable in your front hall? Didn't I raise you better than that?"

"This from the woman who kept asking me if I was born in a barn while I was growing up? As if you weren't there when I was born."

"At least if it were my stable I'd muck it out once in a while. It stinks to high heaven out there!"

"Those are my tenant's clothes, Mom. I dumped a bucket of horseshit all over him and I wasn't about to let him come in wearing them."

"Stephanie darling, you'll be the death of me yet. Pray tell why were you throwing horseshit at your tenant? He wasn't getting fresh, was he?"

"Well, if he was fresh before it happened he sure wasn't by the time it was over. Phew! Steve has been a perfect gentleman. I slipped while we were mixing fertilizer in the potting shed and he got the worst of it. Come in and meet him, Mom."

I had been shamelessly eavesdropping from the living room, so I was ready to greet Stephanie's mother. I stood up, then hastily adjusted Stephanie's voluminous pink terry bathrobe (it was loose on her, a bit tight on me) as they came in.

"Hi." I greeted her sheepishly. Maybe the robe should have been woolen like Stephanie's skirt.

Steph's mom wore her grey hair long, gathered into a ponytail at the back. She looked like she had come from church, wearing a skirted suit. Pretty stylish for someone who had to be getting into her seventies. It was easy to see where Stephanie got her figure from.

"Hi yourself. Daughter. This is the first time I've ever met a perfect gentleman in a pink robe and purple bunny slippers. You do have odd tastes in men."

"Mother! Steve's not a man!"

That was news to me; perhaps I had entered the Twilight Zone. In any case, I wasn't about to resist the second great straight line in the past few minutes.

"Well, if you would get me that bra and panty set you were promising before we were so rudely interrupted I'd be glad to put on my dress for your company."

"Stephen! Wait — I didn't mean it that way!"

She was awful cute when she got flustered. Getting naked with her was looking like a better idea all the time, even if she was my landlady.

"Now darling, I'm sure your mother would understand. She looks like a lovely woman. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Petrillo."

I wouldn't have believed Stephanie's blush could get any deeper, but it did.

"Did you know your slippers clash terribly with your hair?" Steph's mother was having a good laugh at the whole situation.

"I suppose I'll have to make an appointment with Mr. Pierre at the salon and have my hair changed, then. Perhaps a light blonde with discrete violet highlights. That would match the slippers nicely."

"Don't you dare! I know women who would kill for beautiful hair like yours. Why, I do believe you look a little like Kate Hepburn in her short haired phase, now that I think of it."

Yeah, I had to be in the Twilight Zone. A conspiracy theory was beginning to form. Maybe I was channeling a dead actress without even realizing it.

"I've been told that before."

"Have you now? Well, my daughter always did have better taste in girlfriends than in men."

"Mother!"

"Don't deny it, sweetie. A little work and Kate here will be absolutely stunning. Maybe you should brush your hair first though, Kate."

"I didn't want to get too personal and use Stephanie's hair brush without asking."

"You're standing there in her robe and bunny slippers waiting for her to loan you a bra and panties and you don't want to get personal with her?"

"MOTHER! "Will you two stop that!" cried an exasperated Stephanie. "Sit down and let me explain, the both of you!"

"Shouldn't you at least let Kate put on some underwear first?"

How innocently she asked that question. She must have been as great an actress as the immortal Hepburn.

Stephanie wheeled toward me, one threatening digit pointed menacingly at my chest. "If you two don't sit down I just might put a bra on you and see what happens." She paused. "Sit. Stay. Now!"

So we sat and she explained, but I let her do it all by herself. I sure wouldn't have wanted to explain this ridiculous situation to my mother, but she did a pretty good job of it. While the rain poured down outside she skillfully turned the talk to gardening and we spent a pleasant hour or so planning just what we were going to do in the yard — if the sun ever shone again. Stephanie's mom, who quickly became Hilda, was as big a gardening enthusiast as her daughter.

The rain had not given up by the time Hilda made her exit, but I felt compelled to say "I guess I should be getting back to my place." as Hilda pulled out of the drive.

"In this weather? Nonsense! Let me start a fire and see if we can take the chill off the place. I'm looking forward to sharing the afternoon with my girlfriend Kate."

Girlfriend? I wasn't feeling too much like a girlfriend, but what the hey? With a choice of getting soaking wet and spending the afternoon alone or curled up in front of a fire with a fine looking woman, which would you choose?

---

Some time later we were both curled up on the couch with enough space between us that there was no implied invitation on either side. The room was starting to warm as the fire crackled merrily. We sat for a while in a companionable silence, just enjoying being inside while the storm blew outside.

"So how did you come to be living alone in this big old farmhouse.?" I asked at last.

"It's the family homestead. My umpty-great grandparents on the Petrillo side started farming here back when this area was the Western Frontier of the country. The place has been added to and passed down through the family for generations of farmers until Dad dropped dead in the field about fifteen years ago. My brother didn't want to be a farmer, it's backbreaking work and the pay is lousy, but I guess that doesn't matter if you love the land. He didn't inherit that love of the land from Dad. He moved to Buffalo and works in a little office at a big corporation and it suits him fine."

"Mom stayed on a few years after Dad died, but the big old place was just too big and had too many memories. Just about the time she was ready to sell the place off I broke up with my ex and needed a place to stay, so now I'm a Gentlewoman Farmer, renting the fields to real farmers and reaping the benefits. Which just about keep the old place running and pays the taxes if I'm lucky. Why do you think I'm renting the cottage to you — I need the money."

"Don't we all." I replied "It must be nice to have a family place with some history. I'm an only child that grew up in a series of lousy apartments in the city. No history or roots in my family. Hell, I couldn't even tell you where my only cousin is these days. She married a Navy man and they moved somewhere without telling me years ago. I haven't heard from her since my folks died."

"That's so sad. I can't imagine how it would be without family. We still get together every summer for the Pie Festival. It's better than a church supper — my family can cook! Wait 'till you taste Aunt Marge's blueberry pie."

"Sounds good, but unless that's a proposal of marriage I'm not part of your family."

"Not likely! I'm not really longing for a man to complicate my life right now, so you stay my girlfriend for the foreseeable future, OK?

"You are one strange puppy, Steph."

"Well, better than being a bitch. You get invited to the pie festival because you live right in the middle of the campground. We have it here on the Old Homestead, silly. The cottage will be surrounded by a sea of tents. It's not just a family affair, we invite everybody we know and it's quite an event these days. I don't have to camp out any more now I'm living here, but I loved the weekends in the woods with my folks. Running a dairy farm is a full time job, those cows have to be milked twice a day come hell or high water, so they worked from sunup to sundown. It was a lot of effort to find someone to watch the farm long enough to let us get away, so those weekends together were very special.

"That sounds awfully nice. I was an only child and never got to do anything like that. I didn't start camping out until one of the other profs convinced me to come with him when I was complaining about how boring summer break was. I found out I liked it so that's how I've spent most of my summers since then."

"Do you get lonely living all by yourself?"

"Not really. I've always been an independent type, maybe because of being without siblings. Not that I'm a hermit, but I do appreciate solitude just as much as a good party. Not that I'm going to be giving many parties, the cottage is very nice but no meeting hall."

I took a minute to gather my thoughts.

"I told you my folks were dead and I only have a couple of people I count as good friends. We don't see each other much because we're all scattered across the country. One of those deals where if you see each other every few years you catch up and vow to see each other more often, then let another few years pass before you know it."

"A couple of serious women in my past, a couple of less formal relationships, but I've traveled up and down the East Coast for a lot of years before I landed here. With the summers off I used to love the traveling, but once the McMalls took over the country you couldn't tell if you were in Atlanta or Boston. The country has lost it's character, traveling isn't what it used to be."

To my surprise she put her hand on my thigh. "That's funny. I've been a teacher for all these years and have the whole summer off, too, but with one notable exception I'll tell you about some day, I've never gone more than few hours drive from here and always longed to travel."

"Then we'll have to go somewhere when the semester is over and I'll be your tour guide."

"That would be fun, 'girlfriend'. I'll keep that in mind. You hungry?"

I was. So we fixed supper and ate by candlelight in front of the fire. The storm had blown itself out by the time the sun was going down and I knew I had to go back to the cottage soon. I offered to help with the dishes, but she refused."

"I told you I was a teacher. If I don't get my lesson plan done right away the little darlings will get bored in class and start a riot. You don't want to be responsible for a civil disturbance, do you?"

"Makes me glad my semester doesn't start until next week." I allowed her to shoo me out after handing me my unused clothes.

"You can bring back the bathrobe tomorrow. Now scat!".

She pecked me on the cheek and pushed me out the door. It was still cool out there so I made a hasty trip to my own back door, feeling the warmth of her kiss linger on my cheek.

I was glad I hadn't turned off the heater when it was so unseasonably warm, because the cottage was warm and comfortable when I entered. I put my too small clothes on the dresser and was going to return them to my drawer when I suddenly decided it was time to clean out that drawer and admit I was never going to drop those 30 pounds and it was foolish to keep those clothes any longer. I found a box and emptied the drawer, then threw the clothes that Stephanie had returned on the top of the pile.

What the heck? I picked up my too-small shirt and there was a bra and a pair of panties underneath it. A matching set. Red, no less.

I've never worn red underwear in my entire life.

---

What with the start of the semester and the typical lousy weather for that time of year, I didn't see enough of Stephanie for my taste during the next couple of weeks. Not that I wasn't interested in spending more time with her after our farcical but intimate time together, but with obligations and distractions for both of us it seemed we were never home at the same time. I found as many excuses to visit her as I could think of, but all I could do was leave her a note because she wasn't at home. Judging from the pile of notes at my back door she had the same problem.

That red bra and panty set sat on the top of my dresser, curiously attractive but basically useless except as a trigger for some very interesting fantasies. Eventually I noticed that Valentines Day was near. It had been some time since I had anyone special to make me notice the day, but that red bra on my dresser seemed to remind me that I just might be able to enjoy Valentines this year.

One Saturday morning the lousy weather was back. I didn't want to make yet another fruitless trip across the yard, so I picked up the phone. Feeling a bit like a kid trying to get the courage to call the hot girl in school, I dialed her number.

"Hello?"

"Ah! You're home at last!"

"And which pot is calling which kettle black?" I could hear a malicious grin in her voice.

"I will have you know that as an instructor of The Youth of This Great Nation I have nothing to do with pot. That's Official Policy."

"That's a fine kettle of fish. If you are in the same room with The Youth of This Great Nation then you couldn't be more than twenty feet from a stash of pot."

"That's not Official Policy."

"But it's the truth."

"The Truth is seldom Official Policy."

"But the Truth shall set you free."

"As in being unemployed? Telling the truth is the surest way for a teacher, or a lowly Assistant Professor, to get themselves fired."

"Then tell lies, for goodness sake. I need your rent money."

"Why is it whenever I talk to you I end up in a surreal situation?"

"Because reality sucks. Surreality is much more interesting."

"Sir Reality? Wasn't he one of the Knights of the Round Table?"

"No, he worked day shift at The Square Peg tending bar."

"I think I'm going to need a drink if this keeps up."

"First pot, now booze. What is this world coming to?"

"A confusing halt. Do you have any idea why I called? I seem to have gotten sidetracked."

"Maybe you want to pay your rent early, after all it is the 29th.

"I don't think that was it."

"Darn! Maybe you want to play in the dirt this morning?"

"Huh"

"Even though it looks like crap outside I want to get the marigolds started."

"In January?"

"It's two days to February, which is when you start marigolds. Why do you think we were mixing up potting soil? The marigolds get started in February so they're ready to plant in May."

"I hesitate to ask, but should I bring a change of clothes this time?"

"You didn't like my robe?"

"It looks better on you. You'll have to show me sometime."

"I'll think about it."

"Let me find an umbrella and I'll be right on over."

It wasn't until I hung up that I realized I had never got around to asking about Valentines Day. I went into the bedroom for an old sweatshirt and some grubby jeans. As I was changing I once again looked at the red panties on my dresser. What the heck? She did give them to me and it would only be fitting to wear them today — that is if they fit.

The label said size 6. What did that mean? Guys do it more intelligently, my tighty-whities said 34, as in 34 inches. No translation needed. Well, they looked like they might fit me. Feeling a bit silly I shucked out of my underwear and put them on. Although we were almost the same height, with her relatively larger hips they were pretty loose. With my jeans buckled they were comfortable. Actually there was no way to tell what I had on underneath.

So all right, the bra was sitting there and I'm sure you want me to tell you I put it on. I could keep you in false suspense for a couple more paragraphs, but I'll be merciful. One look at the label told me that it was too small for my chest. At least bras are sensible sized and now I knew that Stephanie was a 34D. Although far from a macho man, I had a 38 inch chest so the bra stayed on my dresser to inspire future fantasies.

When I arrived at the potting shed, Stephanie was filling trays with the potting soil we had prepared. She had on a denim apron to protect her clothes. She smiled as I opened the door and pointed vaguely to one corner of the room.

"Better put on an apron, you never can tell when I might take a notion to start flinging shit around."

Yeah, you never could tell. Hanging on some hooks were old shirts and a flowered apron. Great, first robe and bunny slippers, then flowered aprons.

"Why is it every time I come over here I end up in your clothes? You would look divine in those flowers while that denim would compliment my masculine bulk and bravado much better"

"Girlfriend, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, masculine bulk and bravado are not your forte."

"So we're back to being girlfriends?"

"Did we ever stop? The day we spent together was the most fun I've had in ages. I've sworn off boyfriends and I haven't had a girlfriend to hang out with in a while, either.

"Then I guess I can play the part if it pleases you, madam. One girlfriend coming up!"

I tied the flowers around my body.

"So what do I do?"

"Stand there and look beautiful."

"Some things are beyond my powers, girlfriend."

"Then clean out those trays so we can put geranium pots in them."

"Crap! I'm a girlfriend for only thirty seconds and already I'm washing dishes!"

"Get used to it. We women live a hard life."

"Well at least you're only throwing verbal shit this week!"

I started hosing out the trays and soon all the glass of the potting shed was steamed over. The heater kept the place reasonably warm, but outside it was still January. We contentedly filled containers with dirt and trays with containers, then put in the appropriate seeds as Stephanie clearly marked each pot as to what it would grow into, given time and nurturing. It seemed difficult to believe these pots, sheltered from the ice outside, would become an array of beauty in a few months.

When the last one wall filled and labeled, Stephanie washed her hands.

Drying her hands, she came up behind me. I felt her finger slip under the waistband of my pants. "How sweet, you did wear them. I love trading clothes with my girlfriends."

"I'm afraid the bra didn't fit." I was back in the Twilight Zone again. Conversations with Stephanie kept going off the track somehow.

"I figured it probably wouldn't but I knew you wanted to get into my panties. We'll just have to go shopping sometime and find one that fits you properly."

"You can't be serious!"

"Why not, girlfriend. You put on my panties all by yourself. You can't tell me that you don't want to be my girlfriend after doing that."

I still couldn't believe that Stephanie had actually looked into my pants to see them! I mean, up until a few days ago she was just my landlady — another person that I knew slightly. The woman who I handed a check to on the first of each month and then forgot about until another 30 days had passed. I just didn't get it.

But I did like the feel of the nylon on my butt.

---

I had hardly settled into bed that evening when my cell phone rang. It was Stephanie. It seems silly to use cell phones to talk over the short distance between the cottage and the main house, but that's what we did. We didn't talk about much of consequence, after all we had just spent the day together. Just two friends chatting. Girlfriends, it seemed.

"Steve?" she asked after the conversation had hit a bit of a lull.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about what I said to Mother last week."

"Huh?"

"That crack about you not being a man. I really didn't mean it that way."

"Good grief! You haven't been worrying about that all week, have you? We all put our feet in our mouths sometimes."

"Yeah, don't we? I just want to say how much I enjoyed spending time with you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I felt almost like I was spending time with one of my girlfriends."

"Katherine Hepburn, right?" I was rewarded with a giggle.

"No, silly. What I mean is, well, you know how it is on a date, how you're always thinking about how you look and how you come across to the other person? It wasn't like that. You felt more like an old girlfriend I could say anything to, I didn't worry about putting on a show or trying to impress you."

"Uh huh?" I didn't really know what to say, so I just made an encouraging noise.

"It's been a long time since I felt that way. I mean comfortable with a man near me."

"I'm flattered. I really enjoyed being with you, too. I'm not going to tell you that I haven't noticed you're a woman, but you're right. There wasn't that male-female pressure on Sunday, just two friends enjoying each other's company. If that's what it takes to make you feel comfortable I'll happily put on a robe and bunny slippers any time I come visit."

"You did look pretty cute in my robe."

"By the way, thanks for the underwear."

"Really? I don't know what got into me when I gave them to you."

"Just trading clothes with your girlfriend. I hear women do that all the time. I'm afraid I can't reciprocate, though. My female wardrobe is a bit thin." She laughed merrily. "Are you really going to take me shopping for a bra?"

"Would you wear it if I did?"

"If you let me be your girlfriend I don't see why not."

"Seriously?"

"Well, I don't see how a man wearing a bra can be taken seriously, but I'm willing to try it if you want me to, girlfriend."

"You are an amazing man, Steve."

"Ahem… Modesty forbids, but since I haven't any…. So, when are we going shopping? I need a suitable outfit to impress you when I invite you over for dinner on Valentines day."

"Are you serious?"

"About Valentine's day? Sure! Will you be my Valentine?"

"You make me feel like one of my students. Valentine's day is big in the second grade."

"You're getting to be big in my life. I like you enough to see where this will take us, girlfriend, but you're in control. No pressure, my dear landlady. You haven't answered my question."

"I'd be honored to be your Valentine."

"Now I feel like a school kid."

"But you're big enough to wear a bra now. Next Saturday? Ten o'clock?"

"Sure! Speaking of time, it's after midnight. I need my beauty sleep. Goodnight, girlfriend."

I hung up the phone.

---

That set the pattern, every evening before we fell asleep we talked on the phone, but when I hung up the phone that night I couldn't sleep. I tried to blame it on the nap I had inadvertently taken at about 7:00 that evening, but if I was honest I was thinking about Stephanie. To be even more honest, about being Stephanie's girlfriend. I washed out her panties the night before and left them hanging on the shower rod. I intended to put them on again in the morning, knowing they would feel just as good as they had the day before.

But my head wouldn't settle down. I finally got up and fired up the old computer. I checked my e-mail and bank statement, but finally I got the nerve to enter the words 'breast form' into Google, which was what I had been intending to do but was still a little nervous about. If I was going to wear a bra I didn't want to look lumpy.

I still remembered my mother after she lost a breast to cancer. She was devastated at first, but when she was fitted with her new form it was miraculous how her outlook improved. There was absolutely no way to tell that only one of her breasts was the real thing when she was wearing normal clothing. She eventually had reconstructive surgery, but until then that breast form gave her the confidence to face the world again. I just hoped I could capture some of that confidence.

Talk about confusing! Who would have guessed there were so many choices? Teardrops, triangles, silicone, foam, nipples (or not), color, size. If I could just find something that would work it would be a miracle!

TheBreastformStore.com looked pretty user friendly, so I followed their directions. The only problem was I didn't have a tape measure. I checked the odd tools in the basement but all I found was an old fashioned folding stick ruler. That wasn't going to bend around my chest. The light went on and I took one of my belts and wrapped it around my chest, then measured the belt. A size 38, same as my male chest size, which made sense since Stephanie's 34D bra was too small on me.

Halfway there. So how large did I want to be? I've never been one to drool over big boobs. Sure I notice them, but they don't really make me any more interested in a woman just because they stick out halfway to the moon. Well, Stephanie filled a D cup nicely (very nicely!) but with my build and boyish hips that would be too much. The chart said that a size 5 in the Transform Full Oval would make me a C cup. Well — I was going to transform, so why not do it literally?

I winced a little as I typed in my credit card and paid for overnight shipping. Those babies weren't cheap, but I fell asleep feeling pretty good about trying to do my best to be Steph's girlfriend.
 

Our relationship was developing like nothing I had known before. I had to control some definite lascivious thoughts about her when I saw her across the yard or in my fertile imagination, but during those intimate talks in the dark of night I felt very comfortable in girlfriend mode. Being a girlfriend affected me as well, I talked of things in my life that I had never before shared. My parent's death, the serenity I found in the garden, even the loss of a very lovely woman many years ago when she moved to California and I couldn't bring myself to follow her. Talking with Steph as her girlfriend was better than any shrink. Not that I had ever talked to a shrink, but you get the idea.

The breast forms arrived on Tuesday. I opened them up and played with them a little bit, but there wasn't much I could do without a bra to put them in. I guess I was going to have to wait for the weekend. I almost told her about them, but I wanted to save them for a surprise on Valentine's Day.

"Hey ma — I got boobs!" Yeah, that was going to be a surprise.

---

On the way home after class on Monday I made a stop on the way home. My solution excessive hand washing of lingerie was to stop by the Wal-mart on the way home and buy a package of panties. I felt like a complete ass doing it, but it wasn't that hard. Since Stephanie's panties were a bit too big, I consulted the size chart on the package and found they went by hip size. Great! Well, my hips were the same size as my waist, so I guessed at a size 4. The new ones fit me very well and I didn't even have a problem with my male equipment — it fit in quite comfortably, thank you. Maybe by wearing nylon panties for the rest of the week I would be used to them by the weekend.

By Saturday morning I was sure that wearing panties was more comfortable than my male underwear. When there was a knock on the door and I had to put my new breast forms back in their custom shaped holders. They were fascinating, wiggling and jiggling in my hand. They did feel like the real thing, but I was going to have to rearrange my drawers, they took a lot of room!

"Hi, girlfriend" I greeted Stephanie. She was a vision cable knit sweater and tartan skirt.

"Damn, you look stunning!"

"Why thank you, girlfriend. Just put your tongue back in and remember you're my girlfriend, OK? You ready to go shopping? I want to invite my new girlfriend to dinner tonight."

"Wait a minute. Isn't it 'The way to a MAN'S heart is through his stomach'? Can you bribe a girlfriend that way, too?"

"As long as she's not on a diet."

"Makes sense to me. Then it's only fair I treat you to lunch if we're going to wear ourselves out shopping. Want to try the Chinese Buffet?"

Brockport had gotten bigger with the new road. The little Chinese restaurant had recently expanded to a complete buffet.

"Sure, why not? Come on over to the house and I'll measure you so we know what size to get."

"38C for bras, size 12 or maybe 14 for dresses and a 10 for shoes." I responded smugly.

"You are full of surprises. How did you figure that out, girlfriend?"

"The Internet is the font of all knowledge. I just Googled it. Why is it men have only one size chart and women have misses and junior and woman's and lord knows what else?"

"Because women are endowed with the genetic ability to solve complex problems.

"I should have known."

"How did you decide you were a C cup?"

"Why, I have the advantage of being whatever cup size I want. Much as I would like to imitate my mentor, I don't think I could carry off a D cup as well as you do, so I decided it should be more modest"

She blushed.

---

"So where do we go, Wal-mart?"

"Only if you want to look ugly. Their buyers have lousy taste."

"Oh." That was news to me, but what did I know from women's clothes?

"Let's start at the Fashion Bug across the street. They have a plus size department so we should be able to fit you there. It's just the place for a couple of casual outfits for a weekend in the garden and if we're lucky we'll find something you can wear to dinner. Last chance to chicken out, girlfriend."

"I promised, didn't I? If you want a girlfriend then I'm your man."

"That isn't quite how I'd put it, you nut."

"Don't I have to be nuts to be doing this? Let's get it done before I come to my senses."

"Sounds like a plan." She started off across the parking lot. "So tell me, would you prefer a solid color or a pattern on your bra?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. My panties are all solid colors."

She stopped. "Did you say 'your' panties? As in plural?" Then she did that one eyebrow thing again.

"Well, I couldn't very well wear the one you gave me all week long, could I?"

"I suppose not. You are full of surprises, girlfriend"

"Just call me Kate."

"I'm too refined to call you what I'm thinking, Kate. You haven't answered the question — plain or patterns."

"Which do you prefer?"

"Damn good thing you're my girlfriend or I might think you were being sexist, you sexist."

"I may be wearing them but they're for your benefit. It's only fair you have a say in picking them out."

"Funny, I've used that line with a couple of boyfriends, but I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of it."

"Now who's the one not answering the question?"

"I prefer patterns. I love the feeling of wearing something sexy that no one can see."

"Does that mean I don't get to have a look?"

"Let's leave that for another time, girlfriend. Right now it's your underwear we're concerned with. You get to be my boyfriend while we're shopping, offering me advice on what looks good. OK?"

"Sounds like a good idea." I paused. "You're not worried about the gossips seeing you in the store buying intimates with your tenant offering his advice?"

"I'd think you would be more worried if anyone thought the intimates were for my tenant."

"Nobody here knows me — I've only been here a year or so and I have no social life outside the college. If you aren't worried then neither am I."

We had arrived at the store, where she took me over to the bra section. There was quite an array, far more bras than I had ever seen in one place. I had no trouble looking like the nervous boyfriend waiting in a place that made him uncomfortable. In my foray for panties I had been able to find a six pack prominently displayed and drop them in my cart without spending any more time there than necessary. Now I was expected to actively help in narrowing down the choice for my new bras.

"What do you think of this one?" Stephanie asked.

"I like leopard spots. It's not an endangered species, is it? What are the wires for?"

"To strangle little boys who ask too many questions. They're to help keep your tits separate and perky."

"Imagine that, perky tits. Sounds like something you'd find in a Men's Magazine."

"You're impossible! Do you like it?"

"Sure, put it in the basket. I like that one with the blue lace, too."

"Your wish is my command, oh Master of Fashion. Will two be enough?"

"It depends on what you have in mind for the weekend, darling."

"Who says it's only for the weekend. You never can tell."

That was an interesting bit of news.

"Maybe you'd better get one of those pink striped ones too, just in case."

"And one in plain white. A girl always needs a plain white bra on hand."

"I didn't think you put bras on your hands."

"If I hadn't already told you that you were impossible, I'd tell you that you were impossible."

"I love it when you sweet talk me, darling. Do we look at the dresses for dining or the casual outfits for gardening first?"

"The dresses are closer. Perhaps you would like to help me pick one out."

"I'd be delighted. 'Lay on, Macduff and damn'd be him that first cries, hold, enough!'"

---

The last time I had been in the women's section of a store was as a child waiting for my mother to browse through the racks. Back then it was a lot more fun to hide in the center of those round racks and play peek-a-boo or run through the aisles until my mother was completely exasperated.

We didn't spend long looking at the dresses, they were all far more formal than what we wanted. Long sleeved jackets and sequins; female tuxedos, it looked like. When we got to the casual section I was struck by something.

"Stephanie, how come this is a women's clothing store and they don't seem to have any skirts?"

"You want to take a look out the window and see how many of the next 10 women to pass by are wearing skirts? I think that might answer your question."

"I never thought of that."

"That's not surprising, most men wouldn't have even noticed."

"Well, not unless we were trying to look up a skirt. It's ever so much more rewarding than looking up a pair of pants."

"Sexist pig!"

"Oink! Really, if I'm going to do this what good is wearing another pair of pants?"

"I suppose that does seem a bit foolish, now that I think of it. Don't worry, there's a Dot's not too far away, they should have a skirt or two to meet your approval. What do you think of this?" She held a blue T-shirt with a scalloped neckline and an embroidered flower across the bodice against her body as if she were gauging it for size.

"Well, it fits the gardening theme. Kind of cute, I guess."

"The blue bra would go well under it."

"If you say so."

"I do. Anything else that catches your eye?"

"Not really. It all seems kind of — plain."

"The word is 'casual'. We're not after high fashion here, we want something you can garden in. You know, dirt, water, horse shit. That sort of thing."

"How romantic. Can we get some deodorized cow manure before we fill any more pots?"

"One thing at a time. I'll let you check out Dot's before we get anything else."

Do you know how much it cost me to get out of that store? This crazy idea had better last more than one weekend, I have to get some return on my investment. Besides, I had to carry all the bags. Some girlfriend.

I could hardly wait to put on that bra!

---

We did have Chinese for lunch and made the drive to Dot's. Now this was more what I expected a women's store to be like. Lots of skirts and blouses and bright colors. I wandered along behind Steph until she stopped at a rack of skirts.

"We need something a bit shorter for gardening, You don't want to be tripping over your hem with a full pot. Besides, kneeling down in a long skirt is a real pain!."

"If you want short, how about this?" I asked as I took a pretty red and black checked skirt from the rack. "I'd say it was short enough, wouldn't you?"

"If I were 20 years younger and wanted the world to see what I don't want to be seen. I had in mind something knee length, not crotch length."

"You said you wanted short. I was just trying to be helpful."

By then she had found a crinkly green thing.

"What do you think?"

"It's OK. This must be the top that goes with it."

"It is, but don't you think that neckline is a little revealing for gardening? Think of the sunburn potential."

"Oh, yeah." I suppose since I wasn't going to have any cleavage I couldn't wear something with a plunging neckline. I never had to think of this kind of stuff when I went clothes shopping. "So what else would go with that skirt?"

"A blue or yellow would work, but we already have a blue top. Or even something with a pattern. Something like that." She pointed. "A little fancy for gardening, but why not?"

'That' was a pale yellow blouse with a tiger lily print. The material was light and gauzy, but it had an inner layer that made it not quite so revealing.

But it was still so undeniably feminine it brought me to a halt.

OK, a bra is undeniably feminine, but unless they're trying to be provocative most women don't go around showing their bras to the world. For that matter I had been wearing panties all week and nobody had the slightest idea except Stephanie. The T-shirt we just bought was clearly made for a woman but it was still a T-shirt. I wore T-shirts all the time, not so different, was it?

But that blouse was soft and sexy and there was no way I had ever worn anything like it. It was at that moment that the 'girlfriend' business crystallized, that I really understood what I had gotten in to. Was I ready to abandon a lifetime of being a man so easily? My father would have had apoplexy if he could see me at this moment, for him men were men and that was it — no questions need be asked. I hadn't precisely asked any forbidden questions, but I had never been sure of the answers, either. Suddenly I had to find the answer.

And quickly!

Then, just as suddenly as the doubt had flared the answer came to me. I wasn't abandoning anything. I was taking a vacation into an unknown land — a land of femininity. I was doing something to make a friend happy and just maybe doing something that would make my life more interesting. We all fear the unknown, but at one time or another in our lives EVERYTHING is unknown. This was just one more way of learning more about life. There could be no shame in learning.

"I like it, makes quite a statement, doesn't it?" I answered at last. A definitive statement, at that.

"You're getting quite the eye for fashion. Oh, look! This denim jumper would be perfect with the blue blouse, wouldn't it?"

"I think so."

"I know so. Come over here a minute."

I came. In the relative obscurity between the clothing racks she once again pulled back my waistband and checked out my underwear.

"Don't be mad. I just had to know. I think it's sweet, really I do." Then more loudly, "We need something a bit fancier for dinner on Monday. Can you reach up there and get that one down?"

"Sexist, you're as tall as me."

"But you have longer arms."

"Don't try to confuse me with facts."

I took the dress off the high hanger. It had a square neckline and padded shoulders. Why did women insist on making themselves look like quarterbacks? Well, I could always remove them, I had pre-padded shoulders and wouldn't need them. The dress looked to be tight about the bust line and then continued straight down from there. A perfect style to take the eye off my lack of wide hips. Stephanie held it up to her neck and the hem came about to mid calf on her, so it would do the same for me. I had seen dresses like this on innumerable women at nice restaurants, it certainly would be appropriate for a dinner party. it's brown tones would even go nicely with my coppery hair.

I was really getting into this, wasn't I?

While I was standing at the register Stephanie told the cashier to wait a minute and darted back to the wall. She placed a rose colored nightgown on the counter.

"A girl can never tell when she might want a nightgown if she's invited to a sleepover." Was her only comment.

My unvoiced comment shifted from "ouch" when thinking of the bill to "Hmmmm..."

As we got into the car for the trip home, Steph turned to me and asked, "I didn't scare you off or anything, did I?"

"No, I'm still with you. I had a moment there when this whole thing seemed just too surreal for words, but I think I'm over it."

"That blouse was what did it, wasn't it? You got lost in space for a moment there."

"Too right. I'm OK now and as of the moment we get home I'm going to be your girlfriend and nothing else. I'm all yours."

"That's..." she paused. "That's very nice of you, Steve. It's a lot to ask of you."

"You're worth it, Steph. It may be a little strange, but I think it could be something wonderful for the both of us as long as we don't try too hard."

"I hope you're right. I ..." she trailed off. I waited until she was ready to speak again. "I haven't let anyone get close to me for a long time, Steve."

"I know."

More silence as the road rolled beneath the tires. We were home all too quickly. We unloaded the day's purchases from the trunk, piling them on my sofa.

"Much as I would love to have you give me a fashion show, I have to put in an appearance at Mother's tonight. See you tomorrow, Kate." She kissed me and left. It wasn't a peck on the cheek this time, either.

---

Saturday evening was a trial. Stephanie had other things she had to do, so I sat there in the cottage with my new clothes but no girlfriend. I was going on a crazy adventure and was really hyped up about it. My head was swimming with all the things the newbie crossdresser was supposed to do. There wasn't quite an instruction manual on the net, but it didn't take too much reading to come up with the basics.

As I tried on my new outfits, I realized there were a few items missing from my wardrobe. Having done the 'shopping with the girlfriend' bit I was ready for the 'shopping alone' adventure. I felt a pang of regret putting on my normal clothes, I found that I liked the feeling of wearing a bra for the little time I had been wearing one.

I think I was supposed to get all worried and guilty about going into the women's department and buying things there, but try as I might I couldn't work up any guilt. Excitement, yes, but guilt was a complete failure. Maybe it was because I went out and bought my own panties before I knew I was supposed to be embarrassed about doing so. Anyone who's read Poe knows the best way to hide something is in plain sight, not slinking in the shadows.

Since the Wal-mart made it easy to buy panties, I knew that they sold pantyhose and they had a drug section. One stop shopping for your novice crossdresser. As I took a cart out of the rack I considered going over to the hardware section and getting something manly like a chainsaw to disguise my intent, but why bother? I knew that in these big box stores nobody pays any attention to you, even when you desperately need a clerk to tell you where the bathroom is before you start dribbling on the floor. Especially then, I suppose.

Pantyhose and socks were right there next to the shoe department, conveniently devoid of humanity. I pawed around a bit, those suckers were expensive! For something that wasn't going to be found on the government's listing of Durable Goods, pantyhose sure were pricy. The women who had to wear them all day must get pissed off every time they had a run in their stockings. Could that be why most women wore pants these days?

The convenient little chart on the package told me I was a size Q, but I was stopped cold by something I hadn't expected. Just what the hell color was 'Taupe' or 'Sandalwood'? I had a drawer full of black socks; I never had to worry about finding a pair or what color to wear on any given day, just grab two and put them on my feet. Crossdressers seem to make a big deal about how women can wear bright colors and men can't, but I could see there was a downside to that range of choice. I solved the problem by getting a three pack of each color, Stephanie would tell me which was the best for whatever I was going to wear and I wouldn't have to worry.

Black socks. I suddenly realized that black socks wouldn't really go too well with the casual outfits, so I picked out a couple of pair of colored socks and a couple with pretty patterns on them. I might have to get another dresser if I kept buying this stuff.

All was quiet on the Western Front by the time I had my pantyhose, not a sales clerk in sight, so I decided to give the women's shoes a once over. I had planned to wear my own sneakers for our gardening but if I was going to wear that dress we bought last night I wanted to have something more appropriate. While I wasn't conversant with the latest trends in fashion footwear, my mother had always maintained that a pair of sensible black flats were a shoe she could wear with just about anything. Funny how much I've been thinking of my mother since this started; I guess the way she did things would be a guide in the way I would to do things as a woman.

There wasn't much choice in the women's size 10 area. Only to be expected, it was a large size for most women. Fortunately there were a couple of black flats among the sneakers and slippers. I took a quick look around and didn't see anyone, so I slipped off my moccasin and tried one of them on. Lousy arch support, but it fit well enough so they went into the cart with my pantyhose.

On the way to the drug department I realized I should probably get another package of panties. If I was going to be wearing them regularly I didn't want to have to be washing them every few days. Once again, there were a multitude of colors to choose from. My first ones were utilitarian white, but I figured that if I was going to be wearing colored bras I should have colored panties. The problem was they came in six packs, so why did they have to have a couple of ugly ones in there with the cute ones. I guess that was how their marketing department got rid of the dogs. And how come the ones I really liked were available only in size 5?

"Hi, Professor Tucker!"

Hey wow! I just found out how to work up a little guilt! Just stand there with a package of women's panties in your hand while one of your students comes up behind you.

"Hi, Patty."

"I never expected to find you here."

"And I expected you to be home hitting the books."

"Aww, c'mon Prof. Gimme a break." See why English Professors despair of the language? "You got a girlfriend you're getting those for?"

"Why Patty! If I were to ask you questions about your underwear they'd haul me up in front of the Faculty Senate for sexual harassment. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

"Hey Prof, you never can tell. You might learn a thing or two if I was inna right mood. Don't wanna talk about your girlfriend, huh?"

"Girlfriend? They're for me. I'm planning to spend the day wearing a dress and exploring my feminine nature."

"Jeez, Prof. You don't have to go, like, all sarcastic, huh?"

"Why is it that students never believe anything I say — in or out of class?"

"Experience, Prof. Experience. And I like bikini cut panties like these, if you want to know." She took a package off the rack and put them in her cart. "See you on Monday."

She went on her way, a big grin on her face. Well, I was smiling too. Sometimes the best way to tell a lie is to tell the absolute truth — badly.

I managed to make it through the makeup department without meeting another student and soon had the makeup basics from the list I had compiled on the Internet. You could Google just about anything these days and get a cogent answer!

Since it was still early, I went across the street to the Aldi's and stocked up on veggies and such. By the time I had finished my errands I was getting antsy to get home so I could shave my legs.

That sounds silly, doesn't it? The funny thing is it seemed like an adventure to me. Since I had seen Stephanie's Venus razor when I showered in her bathroom, I bought one of my own. Then I bought a regular Gillette for my face. I use an electric, but from my wanderings on the web I realized that I would have to shave much more closely than I usually did. I just hope I remembered how to use a blade without slicing up my face, it had been a long time.

The hair remover stunk to high heavens. It might been a pretty pink bottle with perfume in it, but it was liquid lye and there's no way to cover the smell. I don't have a particularly hairy body, but the red curls on my legs just weren't too feminine. As I slathered the stuff on I realized I had no idea how far I should go. The directions on the bottle were no help; the only thing I was sure of is I didn't want the stuff too near my more delicate organs.

That brought back a memory I had mercifully suppressed for many years. In my misspent youth a girlfriend and I had done something very stupid. We had been watching a porn flick and all the woman had been shaved hairless so the camera could get a real good view of their pubes. Back in the apartment we decided to see what it was like to be shaved clean in the crotch, so we lathered ourselves up and had a lot of fun shaving patterns in each other before we finished the job.

Making love was mildly more interesting with our newly shaved bodies, but it really wasn't all that different. The problem came the next weekend; it was like making love to a porcupine! Thousands of tiny needles stabbing our crotches every time I thrust. I realized, then, why the Kama Sutra had all those shallow positions. They must have shaved a week before and were being damn careful!

The timer went off and I rinsed the goop off my legs and stayed in the tub for a long, hot shower. The mirror showed me a pair of legs that weren't too shabby for a guy.

Freshly shorn I tried on my new panties and pantyhose, then picked out an outfit to wear. I won't say anything more than I tried to use the makeup by myself — some things are too painful to remember. I was going to need Stephanie's help to come out presentable. I simply avoided mirrors like a vampire and enjoyed my first day learning to be a woman. All in all, it was pretty nice!

---

Just like it had for the last few days, my cell phone rang at 11:15PM.

"Hello, my Mistress."

"Kate? Is that you?"

"Yes, my Mistress."

"Stop with the Mistress crap! Are you out of your mind?"

"Considering how we're planning to spend the tomorrow that is a distinct possibility

"Kate, please don't call me that ever again. I know you're making a joke but it really bothers me." Her tone was serious. I seemed to have hit a nerve.

"Never again. From now on whatever happens between us is by mutual consent and desire. Deal?"

"You're going to make me cry again, Kate. Deal."

"You know what, Steph?"

"I hesitate to ask, but — What?"

"I just found out we're going about this crossdressing business the wrong way."

"I didn't know there was a right way. Did I miss the instruction manual or something?"

"The instructions are all online. I've been on the net the last couple of nights trying to learn a little bit about it. From what I see the proper way to do this is for you to force me into a cheerleader's costume or make me look like a whore, then drag me around by a silver chain and humiliate me in public. When we went shopping tonight you were supposed to make it clear to everybody in the store that you were getting those clothes for me, maybe even make me try on something sexy so they all could see me do it while I abjectly cringed and simpered, a slave to your demands."

"That's sick! I'm going to have to show you how to set the filters on your browser. There is no way I would ever humiliate you, Kate. Not ever."

"I know that, Steph, but you wouldn't believe the crap that I found out there.

"Hey — I own a computer, too. I believe it!"

"It certainly was enlightening. I almost feel like I'm missing out on something. The way they describe every minute step in forcing a man to look like a woman is absolutely incredible. My friends in the psych department at the college would have a field day with the stuff I found."

"They really write about being forced to dress up a women? Guilt avoidance, pure and simple. They damn well want to get dressed up and won't take responsibility for their own actions. I sure don't need any more of that crap in my life."

"Well, you won't get it from me, I'm in this voluntarily. Then there's the other extreme - the guys out there who claim they were insanely ecstatic from the first second they put on a pair of panties. Half of them seem to have cum before the elastic settled, then turned themselves into beautiful women and gone out to a bar and screwed anyone who stood still long enough, man or woman or somewhere in-between."

"What about the other half? I don't think I want to know any details about the others, thank you."

"Oh — those are the sane ones who have a good time dressing up like women and have real relationships with their wives and girlfriends. Not all of them are lucky enough to have a woman in their lives who understands them, but some of them do. I found the right discussion board after we got home tonight; this crossdressing thing has a nice side to it. I was starting to wonder for a while."

"Then why did you come shopping with me if all you found was so... so unhealthy..."

"Because you wanted me to go and with you there is no way you would turn our friendship into something sick. I trust you, Stephanie."

"Kate I... You're so kind I..."

"That's what girlfriends are for. I like being your girlfriend, I really do. If you want to know, I knew the porn stuff couldn't be all there was to crossdressing because of how I've felt this last week. I thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with you last weekend. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Stephanie, but I can and do appreciate you as a man appreciates a woman and I'll admit to my girlfriend I did have thoughts about getting you into bed with me. I still do when I'm not thinking of you as my girlfriend.

"But that's just it. Being your girlfriend is a lot more important to me than getting you in bed. I treasure your trust and friendship, I've never had anything like it before in my life. Wearing your robe was the first step away from confining our relationship to the 'me Man — you Woman' crap that too many men and women have. When you gave me your panties and bra it seemed to be a gift of your spirit, something intimate between souls, not a come-on from a woman to a man. Wearing your panties wasn't sexual at all, it was comforting and reminded me of the pleasure your company brings me.

"I like getting to know you without all the baggage of the man-woman thing. When you call me Kate I don't have to worry about what Steve would think or do, I can explore just how Kate and Stephanie are going to do things. It's all new. I want you to teach me how to be your girlfriend, how to be a whole person who treasures friendship for the closeness it can bring. The clothes are part of the learning, a way to break free from the way I always did things before.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't care what anybody else thinks or what drives any other man to wear women's clothes. I don't care what anyone but you thinks about me wearing women's clothes. I'm not going to start a campaign to get any other man to wear a bra but I kind of like the feeling, even if I've only been wearing one for a couple of hours."

"You're going to make me cry, Kate."

"Then you can teach me how to cry. I haven't had much practice."

"Count your blessings, I've had far more practice than I need. But this kind of crying is the happy kind. That can be the hardest kind to learn."

"We can teach each other. What else did we go into education for?"

"Sure wasn't the money."

"Speaking of education, are we on for my class in femininity 101 tomorrow?"

"If you are still willing."

"You aren't getting cold feet, are you?"

"Not cold feet, but sometimes the things I start impulsively spin out of control."

"You don't say! The whole idea is crazy but fascinating. I suspect there's a lot more to it than just putting on the clothes."

"I can hardly wait to see you try to put on a pair of pantyhose. I'm looking forward to seeing that."

"Good thing I realized that earlier today and went out to get some."

"Without me? My, you're a brave one! I bet you've never shaved your legs before."

"I'll not be takin' that bet, me sweet Colleen, or I'd be losin' all me faery gold from the pot at the end of the Rainbow. That would fair piss off the leprechaun I stole it from, it would. A little pink bottle of scented lye and my legs are as smooth and hairless as a baby's bottom."

"I can never tell when you're bullshitting me, girlfriend?"

"I thought it was horse shit that started this whole thing."

"Make that friendshit — uh — ship."

"That it shall be, girlfriend. Anyway, the whole bit about shaving your legs seems to be part of the ritual whenever someone starts to crossdress. I even took a bubble bath and I'm wearing my new nightgown."

"You're really wearing that nightgown?"

"And the pretty blue lace bra."

"Under a nightgown?" she sounded incredulous. "You aren't going to wear it in bed, are you?"

"Well, if I'm going to be a woman for the weekend I may as well get a head start."

"Kate, women take OFF their bras when they go to bed."

"I realize that, but without a bra I sort of loose definition as a woman."

I didn't mention the special foam breast forms I had ordered along with my silicone ones. I could sleep with the foam ones in place and not worry about the leakage the silicone ones warned me about.

"Then I guess it's up to me to mold you into the proper form."

"Just like in those stories. I'm putty in your hands. There is one thing I need to ask, though."

"And what is that?"

"I'm going to need a lot of help learning how to use makeup. I tried this afternoon and failed miserably."

"You poor thing! Didn't your momma show you how to do it?"

"My momma would be spinning in her grave if she could see me now."

"Didn't they close her eyes before they put her in?"

"Put coins on 'em too. You know what I mean!"

"I just wish I could see you now."

"Come on over. I'll unlock the door."

"I'm in my pajamas."

"All the better!"

"That didn't sound like a girlfriend speaking."

"Oops. I'm still new at this girlfriend thing. Some reactions are automatic, like thinking of you in a nightgown."

"I hate to disappoint you, but they're flannel pajamas."

"If you're in them I won't be disappointed."

"Go to sleep, you crazy person. It's getting late."

"Right. See you tomorrow, girlfriend."

But I didn't go to sleep, I cruised the net until two in the morning. I had a lot to learn!

---

Sunday morning I nervously spread shaving gel over my face and shaved as closely as I could without cutting myself. I have never been able to raise more than a feeble Charlie Chaplin moustache and my beard isn't all that thick. It comes in like the chin whiskers on Hallmark Leprechauns, with not much on the cheeks or neck. I wasn't going to be as lucky as the heroes (heroines?) of the crossdressing stories I stayed up all night reading, but I didn't look too bad when I was done.

I wondered what we would do with my hair. A college professor is almost expected to be a bit quirky, so I wore my hair a bit longer than most men but shorter than most women. I didn't do much more than brush it into place once in a while, so I hoped Stephanie could style it into something more appropriate for a girlfriend. I didn't really like the idea of a wig, with my luck the thing would fall off at the worst possible moment.

Was I being a sexist by assuming that Stephanie was a competent hair stylist just because she was a woman? She wore her hair well below her shoulders, I liked the way it hung and swayed as she moved her head. Very attractive. Well, that would wait until she got here, which should be any minute now.

Should I get dressed first? Stephanie had said she wanted to be with me to show me how to do things properly. Then again, I didn't want to push things too far or too fast in the intimacy department. I finally decided to put on my bra and panties under my normal Steve clothes. I left the forms in the suitcase, somehow Steve with boobs wasn't where I wanted to go.

I spent the time until Stephanie was ready restlessly wandering the house marveling at how sensual it felt to have hairless legs. I had forgotten that feeling from my long ago shaving adventure, but it came back to me now. How could I have forgotten something so pleasurable? Eventually I heard the crunch of tires in Steph's driveway. I picked up the suitcase, locked the door and went over to greet her. Her smile was bright as I rounded the old barn. I set the suitcase down and gave her an easy hug.

"Ready to see what you look like, girlfriend?"

"I'm bathed, shaved and ready to discover whatever it is we're about to discover."

"Then come on in and get dressed." She headed for the house, key in hand. "Just put your stuff on the bed for now." She said as we entered what was obviously her bedroom. A very comfortable space, bright wallpaper, wonderful old cherry wood furniture and photographs on the walls. There were several of two very cute children, running from baby to about three years old. In one corner was a laundry basket with the toe of a pair of pantyhose hanging over the side; clothes and towels were piled here and there. Not messy, just lived in by someone who didn't have to worry about anyone else.

"You're OK with me in your bedroom?

"We're girlfriends and we're going to have a wonderful time together. No hiding anything, OK?"

"I'll try. I can't say how much I appreciate your trust, Stephanie. I'll try to be worthy of it."

"And I'll try to keep my part of the bargain, too. There are things that don't come too easily for me, that's part of why I want to do this. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't know you were someone I could trust, Kate. Now, let's see what the real Kate looks like." She started unbuttoning her blouse. "Just girlfriends, right?" she said as the blouse hit the laundry basket.

"Right." Oddly enough, it was all right. Steve would remember and appreciate this moment at the proper time, but Kate was the one in the room right now. I took off my shirt as well and folded it next to the suitcase. I averted my eyes while she skinned out of her slacks, then took off my own. I was interrupted by a girlish giggle.

"Kate, you're awful cute like that, but you're awful flat, too. We have to do something about it."

"Already taken care of, girlfriend." I opened the suitcase and slipped the breast forms into my bra. "Better?"

"Where the devil did you get those things?"

"Over the Internet, of course. I told you I was learning how to do this the right way."

"But... Those things cost a fortune. The good ones, anyway"

"They were less than I spent on my new wardrobe. I suppose we'll have to get enough use out of them to justify the cost."

"You have a way of knowing just what to say, don't you, Kate. I swear you were born with a woman's soul."

"I don't know about that, I never put much thought into being a man, but I think I could be comfortable as a woman. That's part of the reason I wanted to do this with you — to find out."

"That's an odd thing to say." She paused. "Listen to me! Here we are in our underwear together and I'm talking about odd! So be it and the hell with the rest of it!" With a devilish grin on her face she poked me in the breast form. "They feel real!"

"I should hope so. You said you wanted to see me put on pantyhose. Just let me visit the facilities and you'll get your chance."

"You know where they are."

"So I do, but I won't need a bathrobe this time."

I did what I had to do and returned to the bedroom. Stephanie was holding two dresses in her hands.

"Which one for dinner tonight, Kate? I haven't gotten dressed up in ages! This is going to be fun!"

"The one with the high neckline. I don't want to be distracted tonight."

"What a polite way to put it. I don't think I'm much of a distraction these days."

"You were in that tank top, or at least that's what Steve told me. I am resolutely ignoring what Steve would think of you in your underwear. Remember, we were going to be honest with each other this weekend?"

"If you say so. Sometime I might believe it." She hung up the low cut dress as I sat on the bed.

"Here's my first question, what color pantyhose do I wear with this dress?"

"What color did you buy?"

"I got three of them. I wasn't sure. Here, take a look."

"You got three different three-packs? God, you have more pantyhose than I do."

"Well, I didn't know any better. I'm new at this."

"The lighter ones would do just fine. You have nice legs, Kate."

"That's good to know." I opened the package and took out a pair.

"Roll up one leg on your arm and then put it on. The trick is to make sure you get the other leg on the right way or you'll end up all twisted."

"There are some that would say this whole affair is twisted."

"We're not having an affair, Kate."

"Neither of us are married, so by definition we couldn't have an affair."

"Semantics. My husband didn't think having an affair or twelve meant much, either."

"I didn't know you had been married, Stephanie."

"It was long ago but still too damn close."

"Those pictures of the children?" I left an open space for her.

"I'll tell you abut them later. It's a long story"

"Whenever you're ready."

"You're a gem, Kate. You also seem to have an instinct for pantyhose." She said, changing the subject.

"I practiced yesterday, but it's just the opposite of taking them off. I've done that before."

"So have I, but I don't think we're talking about the same thing, are we?" I settled the waistband in place.

"I'd have to consult Steve, but he's not here right now."

"Smartass. What are we going to do with your hair?"

"I've been wondering that myself. Nothing permanent, but other than that I don't know. Know a good hairdresser that won't get upset by a man in a dress?"

"As a matter of fact I do. How do you think I supported myself when I went through college?"

"I'll bite. How did you support yourself when you went through college?"

"Funny you should ask. I worked in a hair salon."

"How convenient. So what would you do with my hair?"

"Don't get any ideas, this is professional curiosity" she said as she ran her fingers through my hair. Professional or not if felt damn nice! "Plenty of body, especially for a redhead. Your hair's long enough it has possibilities. I think a little curl and shaping would bring out the more feminine side of your face. Too bad I don't have a fall the right color. Put your dress on and I'll see what I can do."

"You know, before I came here I was calling myself a sexist for thinking just because you're a woman you would know what to do with my hair. Am I still a sexist even if I was right?"

"I don't think a real sexist would be my girlfriend. Does that answer your question?"

"I guess so."

"Good. Would you zip me up?" she asked as she turned her back to me.

"What about makeup? That seems to be another of those rituals needed for any crossdresser."

"A very good question. I'm not into makeup very much. Lipstick, occasionally some mascara, but that's about it. I painted my face like a clown when I was a teenager and my ex practically demanded it, but I gave up on that shit when I got divorced." There was a fire in her eyes that I hadn't seen before. "These days the world can see me as I am and the hell with them if they don't like what they see. Besides, it drives my mother nuts. She grew up with a load of 'proper lady' crap in her head."

"Good for you. I do think I'm going to need more help, given my natural disadvantages."

"Fine by me, girlfriend. I suspect that I'm going to need to start using more makeup if we want to go out together."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It will take a long time before I'm capable of going out in public." I put my feet into my new shoes.

"Let's do something with your hair. I still have some old hot rollers we can use, that won't be permanent. Too bad you don't have pierced ears, some earrings would help."

"Let's not go too far, girlfriend. This is only our first date."

"What's the matter, the thought of being penetrated scare you? Oops, I shouldn't have said that. It was nasty."

I had to laugh. "Pointed, though."

"Smartass!" This time she accompanied her remark with a swat to my ass. "Come in the kitchen where you can sit and I'll work magic with your hair."

So I sat at the kitchen table and let her fuss with my hair. This was something I had never experienced before, having someone fuss over me while I just sat back and enjoyed it. Going to the barber was a pale shadow of having your hair "done". A few clips, a buzz on the neck and you're done.

I slowly dropped into a pleasant fog as she brushed my hair while the rollers heated. She spritzed it with something with a floral smell, pulled it this way and that while examining how it looked, then finally began rolling up my hair in little rollers. I came out of my fog because she started pulling on my hair and it hurt. Not too bad, but enough to notice. When she started plucking my eyebrows I definitely noticed.

"Do they teach torture in beauty school?" I gasped.

"Sure, we get more answers than the CIA and the FBI combined. People will tell their hairdressers anything and everything. Now sit still, I won't take off so much that anyone will notice, but you'd be amazed at what a little shaping can do." She hauled out another hair with what felt like a blacksmith's tongs. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I didn't think beauty should hurt!

"There, you're done. Let's make dinner and we can take the rollers out after we're done. You want to chop up a salad?"

So we put supper together. I gradually forgot about the rollers on my head as other new sensations replaced them. The most interesting was how the hem of my dress felt as it brushed my legs. Even through the pantyhose it was a very sensual feeling, if nothing else this little adventure was making me appreciate how many pleasures a body could provide.

Then there was getting used to having breasts. I had put them into my bra the night before, but all I did was sit at the computer. Moving around and doing things, like chopping vegetables or reaching for something off a high shelf was a very interesting experience. I was slightly out of balance but adjusted quickly. It didn't take long to decide that I liked the feeling of a bra around my chest and the tug of the straps on my shoulders. I really don't know why, but it felt very nice.

Even though I had read the glowing descriptions of crossdressing on the web with some skepticism, I was finding they were uncannily accurate. I liked the way I felt. No doubt about it and I never once felt my manhood threatened. Not that macho has ever been too important to me, but I was truly enjoying this trip into the other side of the gender gap.

Another interesting part of the experience was the easy conversation between us. Nothing meaningful, just slightly playful and unforced. Without the usual need to try to present myself as a desirable man I was able to let go of something I hadn't realized I was holding. I won't say I wasn't aware of Stephanie as a desirable woman, but it didn't matter right then. The wall of sex and its ramifications was missing and that was a very pleasant experience.

Just before dinner was ready to serve she removed the rollers from my hair and brushed it out.

"Sit down here and I'll give you a quick makeup lesson."

I sat. Explaining what she was doing, she applied foundation and followed it with a touch of blush. There were other subtle tricks that I could bore you with, but by the time she had finished I was sure that her disparaging comments about her makeup skills were unjustified. I was going to have to learn this myself. It didn't seem too hard, but it would require a good deal of practice!

I took a look at myself in the mirror and was properly amazed. No, there wasn't a beautiful woman returning my gaze. Stephanie had left the hair on the top of my head almost untouched, but now my hair curled and surrounded the sides of my head. hiding my ears and softening my too-square jaw line. My beard shadow was gone. I would probably given the woman in the mirror a second look if I passed her on the street, but not because of thinking she was a man. I wasn't going to be getting a call from Christie Hefner any time soon, but the AKC Gazette wouldn't be asking for an interview, either.

The cut of the dress minimized my lack of hips. I had been right to be modest with my bustline, big boobs and small hips would have been unsightly. This look was more balanced. I had to do it, I spun so the hem of my dress flared out and I liked the look!

"I never would have thought I'd like looking like this, Steph. It works, it really does! Well, at least it will if I learn to use a little makeup. How did you know?"

"Feminine intuition." she replied with a grin. "Really Kate, I don't think I even thought about if it would 'work'. It's just that after last weekend I felt closer to you than anyone I've known in a long, long time. When you hit me with that line about wanting a bra and panties when Mom was here I suddenly had this vision of you as a girlfriend. Did I shock you when I put my bra with your clothes?"

"Not shock, I laughed my ass off. The idea you would take me up on such an outrageous suggestion was a great joke. I knew you were someone I wanted to get to know better but sharing such a peculiar sense of humor is a rare gift. I don't doubt that you've noticed that not everyone can appreciate such things."

"Tell me about it! My first principal never could get it. I had to be very careful in the faculty room or he would have fired me. I get it from my dad, he thought that smashing social barriers was a riot. The practical jokes he pulled when I was a kid have warped me for life."

"My dad was the joker in my family, too." I replied. "Mom tolerated it most of the time but she was born without the gene for satire. She never could figure out Doonsbury or Bloom County."

"I love Opus. It's so sad the paper doesn't have him any more."

"Too radical, I guess. I have all the old collections, we'll have to sit down and read them sometime."

"Now. I can't wait. Go over and get them while I start a fire. Can you think of a better way to spend the evening?"

"Careful, open questions like that could shatter the girlfriend image...."

"Pshaw! Go get the books!" she commanded.

"Pshaw? How quaint. I've never heard anyone actually use that word outside an English class."

"Yeah, just like nobody does his plays any more."

"My Fair Lady, I have a book to fetch."

I went out the door. I was two steps off the porch when I realized I was outside and wearing women's clothes. I guess I should have been scared, but it felt great. The skirt caressed my legs as I walked, I felt the breast forms move slightly as my weight shifted, my curly hair brushed my face. What a feeling! Nobody was going to be able to see me, nothing to be worried about, just enjoy this new freedom!

I gathered the books from my shelves and pressed them to my breasts as I walked, visions of some girl hugging her schoolwork as she left the library in my mind. I hurried back to the main house, it was still chilly out here and I hadn't thought to bring my jacket when I left. Other things on my mind.

So with the fire just starting to crackle we sat next to each other on the sofa and read our way through some old Doonsbury strips, then moved on to Bloom County. We laughed all the more uproariously when we hit the occasional crossdressed Bill The Cat panels.

As we closed the book we became aware of how close we were. Our eyes met.

"Feels good, eh?" Not witty repartee on my part, but it would do.

"Yes. Very good. I miss being close to someone else."

"Mmmm..." I invited her to go on.

"I haven't just enjoyed being close to anyone since the divorce. It's either been sex and goodbye or distant acquaintance. Sex out of desperation is lousy sex, it just wasn't worth it."

"I'd come to that conclusion, myself. I think that any two people who are willing to take some time and find out what pleases the other, who are willing to put their partner's pleasure ahead of their own, can have a good time in bed. Sadly, our culture is so screwed up about sex that almost never happens. Too much baggage in the way, too much pressure, too many false expectations. And too damn much Macho. But sometimes you can get past all that. When two people fall in love, sex is no longer just mutual fun, it becomes something else. Sex when you're in love is the most beautiful thing I can imagine."

"That's a beautiful thought, Kate. I thought I was in love once, but it didn't work out."

"Yes?"

"I was eighteen when I thought I was in love. He was an exchange student from Iran; handsome, exotic, a voice like a God. We were in the same classes together and we got along. We started dating, then I moved in with him and it was so romantic. None of this starving student in a garret stuff, he came from money and my family isn't exactly poor, either. He was going to be a doctor, I became a teacher."

"We got married when we graduated, much against the wishes of both families. I thought my mother was crazy not to love him, no way I would listen to her. I knew better, I was in love. I thought he was, too. Well, maybe he was in love, but it wasn't with me. He was in love with the idea of an American Wife in the sack but he wanted to keep on being a Sheik of the Desert with the little woman trailing one step behind in public. Culture clash. Hell, culture collision. A fifty car pileup on the expressway!"

"He loved having a liberated woman in bed but in public he wanted a quiet woman who walked one step behind him and never contradicted him. It got worse when we were married, no need to pretend any more, he had me tied up. It got even worse when I got pregnant. He had no time for the kids with Med School and only enough time for me to get me pregnant again. "

"Even when he treated me like dirt I didn't get the message. Divorce was failure. I signed up for 'Till Death Do We Part' and I wasn't going to let go. Mom and Dad tried to talk to me, but I wasn't hearing anything bad about him. I closed my ears and eyes and knew if I only loved him enough it would be a real marriage again."

"Then I came home and found him in our bed with some blonde. She was sucking him off and he was being quiet about it so I was in the room before any of us knew what was happening. Instead of being embarrassed at being caught he ordered me out of the room and told her to keep going."

"Keep going! I grabbed the kids and got out of there, left everything behind."

"Mom and dad were wonderful, they didn't rub it in or try to make me feel bad; just took me in and called the lawyers. It took forever for the divorce to be final. He fought everything I wanted just to show me who was boss. The damn judge went along and even granted unsupervised visits despite my lawyer raising holy hell. He was as dashing in court as he was when I met him, no one believed he could do what I said he did."

"He didn't give a damn about Yasmin or Tariq, but he got visitation just to screw me over. The first visit he kidnapped them and took them to Iran and I haven't seen them since. The oldest was five at the time. Our government wouldn't do squat and the Iranians did even less, women don't count for much in their culture. They wouldn't recognize the court orders or the kidnapping charge. I haven't seen my children in fifteen years. I'll never see them again."

What could I say? Not a damn thing that would do any good. All I could do was hug her and try to let her know I cared. As Steve I might have spoken, tried to reassure her, but I was Kate to the very core of my being right then. I instinctively knew words were out of place. Just presence, touching, caring, love; these were what want were needed. All thoughts of how I was or was not dressed were irrelevant, Stephanie was the whole of my world and she needed me there with her. I gave her my full attention, slowly stroking her back as she clung to me.

She wept a little, but not as much as I would have thought. The hurt was fifteen years old, she must have cried herself out long ago, but the hurt would never heal while she was alive. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have your children taken. I had no children; I was an only child, no nieces, no nephews. I thought I had been alone during my life, but Stephanie showed me that there was always someone who knew a worse pain, had a deeper sorrow.

I continued to hold her until she was again able to speak.

"I went a little crazy. No, I went completely crazy. I left Mom and Dad and took off across the country. I had money, the divorce lawyer was at least that good, but that was all I had. I screwed any man who wanted me, trying to prove to myself I was worth something. It didn't work. Thank God it was before AIDS, the worst I got was a case of the crabs."

"The crabs probably saved my life. I was in San Juan and landed in a charity clinic run by the Sisters of Mercy. They knew better than I did that the crabs wasn't all that was wrong with me. I don't believe in their God but they didn't care. They believed in me and somehow brought me back to reality. I ended up helping in their day care center when they found out I was a teacher. Being with the children was what brought me back. It took a long time and a lot of support to realize that I needed to define myself and not let someone else do it for me. Living with all those women was what I needed."

"Then Dad died and I came home to be with Mom. It had been years, but she still loved me and I still needed her. With Dad gone she wasn't going to run the farm alone and none of us kids had the love of the land needed to continue farming. So we rent out the land and Mom has a place in the Village and I keep the old homestead in the family. I know it's crazy for only one woman to live in this big old place, but none of us want to let it go."

"Now I know why I held on. I wouldn't have met you if we had given up on the place. The Sisters told me I would find a place in the world and someone to share it with but I didn't believe it. Up until I met you I didn't believe them. I hope I'm not pushing too hard, Kate, but I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone in a very long time."

The sun had set by then, leaving us bathed in the dying glow of the fire. Peace surrounded us as we held each other close.

"It's been a long time since I have been close to anyone, too." I told her. "I'll tell you about it sometime soon, but I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to top your story. Tonight is your night and I want to be here just for you. I liked you a lot when I first met you, but I wasn't going to mess with the landlady. The more I got to know you the better I liked you and last weekend was the most fun I've had in ages. You knocked me out of a rut I didn't even know I was in."

I looked down at my chest. "See. No more ruts — now I got bumps!" She giggled and poked my breast again. "I'm beginning to see why women are so annoyed with men. I've only had breasts a few hours and you've poked them twice. Do you do that to all your girlfriends?"

"Not usually, but now you mention it there was one time in 'Frisco where I had an interesting time with a lesbian." From the look on her face the memory wasn't unpleasant.

"Did you now? And I'll be thankin' ye to remember that, despite appearances, a lesbian relationship 'twould be somewhat of a gamble, darlin' girl."

"Any relationship is a gamble, Kate. I'll let you know if I want to go to the casino. If I do, you'll be the one I invite along."

"And I'll be acceptin' you're offer. Remember that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Me Faery gold has about run out but perhaps we can find a new supply."

"Perhaps. You're a good listener, Kate."

"And you're a good talker and a fine companion in the silence, as well."

I didn't sleep too soundly that night and wearing a nightgown was not the only reason. My bed was very lonely.

---

My students must have thought I was out of my mind on Monday. I was completely distracted, my mind wandering to Valentines Dinner with Stephanie. Somehow I made it to 3:00 when my last class ground to a halt and was home by 3:12, dropping my clothes on the way to the bathroom so I could become Kate and get ready for the evening.

Of course, Kate was appalled by the mess Steve left behind him once she emerged from the bedroom. Somewhere deep in my brain I was wondering about my multiple personalities, but Kate was just too excited to be back to care much about psychology.

I was thinking of my mother again. In the years since her death I still occasionally thought of her when something brought her to mind, but since I started actively exploring femininity she had been in my thoughts quite often. No surprise, I suppose. Who has more influence on a man's concept of what is feminine than his mother?

She had died far too early. She hadn't even made 60. She survived breast cancer only to find a nasty pneumonia waiting to carry her off. Dad was ten years older than she was. His death certificate read heart failure, but 'broken heart' would have been more accurate. Without her he just gave up on living.

In my more maudlin moods I had wondered why I couldn't seem to find a love like my parents had. I had known passion in my life, but never that enduring love I grew up with. For that matter, there was nothing in my life I could call enduring. There wasn't anything wrong, but there wasn't anything really right, either.

At least until recently. For the first time in my life I was putting friendship ahead of sex in a romantic situation. Sure I was interested in Stephanie as a bedmate, but the urgency that usually accompanied those feelings wasn't present this time.

Was it the whole 'Kate' business? Maybe, but how could I tell from the inside of my brain? I had started to think of Kate as a separate person from Steve. Even before putting on the clothes I seemed to be developing a slightly different personality when I was thinking like Stephanie's girlfriend. Seeing myself in the mirror looking like a woman yesterday seemed to have crystallized the Kate personality and made it real.

Real enough that I couldn't wait to get home after class so I could leave Steve behind and become Kate. How much was it the clothes and how much the closeness with Stephanie? Hell, I teach English, not math. No way I was going to try to assign a percentage. All I knew was that ever since Kate became real in my head a void in my life had been filled. A void I hadn't even known existed!

Which brought me back to my mother. Ignoring the virtual certainty she would not approve of her son dressing like a woman and loving it, her serene example of how a woman should behave and appear set an example for me in my pursuit of femininity. No, I wasn't about to imitate her taste in clothing, a real generation gap existed there, but her attitude, style and carriage were timeless; if I could learn to carry myself like she did I would be a very lucky man. Woman. Whatever.

Thinking about my mother also brought to mind a family tradition I had ignored for many years. When I was a kid Mom would create holiday dinners with foods that matched the day. Green on St. Patrick's Day, pink on Valentines, orange and black at Halloween, red and green for Christmas. As I prepared dinner I tried to channel my mother while preparing a healthier version of the comfort food of my youth.

Start with a salad heavy on the red cabbage, tomato and red peppers. French dressing, of course. The main course would be meatloaf, smothered in undiluted tomato soup just the way Mom made it. Listen — if you ain't tried it don't knock it! It's delicious and you're getting close to insulting my mother if you think otherwise!

Pink mashed potatoes, courtesy of a dribble of red food color, accompanied by beets with feta cheese and walnuts and cherry Jell-O for dessert.

As I started to mix the meatloaf I discovered a flaw in my plan. Steve had no need to worry about messing up his clothes, Kate was not about to let her new blouse get stained by egg coated ground beef. The simple answer was an apron, but I didn't have one. Feeling rather stupid I found one of Steve's (damn — I'm doing it again with the multiple personalities!) flannel shirts and used it as protection.

This practical solution grated, however. It was hard to let myself become Kate wearing Steve's shirt, necessary or not. Tonight was a special one for us as girlfriends, I didn't want to be halfway between Steve and Kate. Then I remembered the flowered apron in the potting shed. As I headed across the lawn I prayed that Steph had washed it like she said she would. It wouldn't do much good for protecting my clothes if it was still imbued with dirt.

Bless the woman, it was clean! As I headed back home Steph pulled into the driveway.

"Hi girlfriend! You look lovely tonight."

"And I intend to stay that way. I came over to borrow your apron so I can cook with my usual carefree abandon and not wear dinner."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you were stalking across the yard like a linebacker. Try to think elflike and delicate as you walk."

"What, I'm not perfect after one day of your esteemed tutelage?"

"Perfection is an elusive goal. I prefer my girlfriends comfortable and contented."

"Being on a former dairy farm, that word contented brings images of Elsie the cow to my mind."

"Forget the cows. Think comfortable evenings by the fire with a cup of hot cocoa."

"A splendid plan, girlfriend. Were you planning to slip into something more comfortable or were you planning to wear your teacher suit to dinner?"

"I'm not about to let you out-dress me after only one day. I'll be over as soon as I change."

I returned to the cottage and threw Steve's shirt in the wash, having managed to land a nice glob of meatloaf on it as I worked. I was slicing the beets when I heard the door open and a few seconds later I felt an arm around my waist.

"What have we here, Kate?"

I managed to stifle a comment about her spontaneous embrace and mildly replied "sliced beets with feta and walnuts. You are about to experience a modern version of my mother's valentine dinner. Comfort food at its best."

"I could use a bit comforting. The little hellions were as active as a volcano today."

"Do they still do nap time in the second grade? Maybe a three hour nap would calm them down."

"How I wish. How many seven year olds are willing to take a nap?"

"I'll bite. How many seven year…. Ouch!"

"That was not the setup line for a joke. It was a rhetorical question; the obvious answer is: zero, zip, nada!"

"I was musing earlier how happy I was to be teaching English instead of math. Besides, my experience with seven year olds is nil. See — some mathematical concepts are within my grasp."

Taking a chance, I turned and embraced Stephanie. If you ignore the odd feeling of my false breasts pressing against her real ones, it was a pleasant experience.

"Mmmm. I see you have some grasp of how to comfort a girlfriend."

"I should hope so. Was your day that bad?"

"Probably no worse than usual, but my mind was elsewhere. The kids really know when the teacher is distracted and can come up with some amazing ways to take advantage."

"Would it help if I told you my college students must have thought their Prof was teaching Zulu instead of English?"

"You, too?"

"Me too! I feel like a teenager with a crush who hasn't the faintest idea what to do about it."

"Pretty sad when a couple of forty something professional educators are this messed up, isn't it."

"'Tis not sad at all, me pretty colleen. 'Tis a magical experience to find someone such as yourself and to find something new in meself all at the same time. 'Tis a mystery where the rainbow leads, but I'm thinkin' I may have found the pot-o-gold already."

Her arms tightened around me and she started to weep. Tears of joy or release, my newfound feminine perspective informed me. I just held on and let her cry.

"You…(sniff) pseudo-irish… (sniff) idjit! Are we both crazy to be doing this?"

"Crazy or not, we are indeed doing it and I am not inclined to stop. As comfortable as it is to be in your embrace, there's comfort food ready to be served and I would hate to serve you a dry meatloaf."

"Is that what I'm smelling?"

"My mother's special Valentine recipe. Sit down and prepare yourself for a treat."

We didn't say much for a while and afterward we found the fireplace in the cottage was in working order. This time we sat on the sofa close together and enjoyed being girlfriends.

"Stephanie?"

"Yes, Kate?"

"This has been one of the most wonderful evenings of my life. I don't want it to stop."

"I don't want it to stop either, but I'm not ready to stay over quite yet."

"That's not where I was going. I want to learn how to make Kate a real person, not just a convenient fiction. Would you help me learn to be as good a girlfriend as I can possibly be?"

"Oh Kate!" Her arms were around me and even the unaccustomed feeling of my breasts meeting hers could not disguise how wonderful it felt.

"Is that a yes?"

"If that's what you really want."

"Next to you, I couldn't want anything more. The more I learn to think like Kate the more I seem to enjoy life. Tonight has made me sure that being Kate is something real and worth doing."

"I'll try to help, but there is something essentially good in Steve, we are going to have to be careful not to loose that goodness."

"I'm flattered. I think Kate will be an extension of the essence of Steve, but with more choices and possibilities."

Only the demands of tomorrow's classrooms made us part.

---

We spent time with each other over the next few weeks, but I had classes to teach and she had her own classes to see to. As the weather warmed I grew comfortable being in the yard as Kate, after all no one could see anything from the long driveway and it wasn't a well traveled road. We had our privacy.

The first couple of weeks were rough, I had no idea how much work my need to become Kate would entail. Putting on a dress is easy, putting on a feminine personality and mannerisms is much harder. A million little unconscious moves had to be unlearned and replaced with more feminine counterparts. Stephanie gently and firmly guided me through the process.

Each day I quickly put on Kate's clothes when I arrived home. Sometimes Stephanie was with me, sometimes she was not; after all we both had obligations and commitments to fulfill. Some nights it was more trouble than it was worth to dress up a Kate, so Steve and Stephanie shared supper. The relationship was subtly different at those times. Oh, we both knew I was the same person despite the clothes, but it still made a difference.

Stephanie had been hurt badly, but she certainly didn't hate men. It was more of an awareness that sex was a possibility with a man present, even if we had an unspoken agreement that it would not be part of our relationship for the present. It was easier for Stephanie to put this unexplored facet of our relationship aside with Kate. For that matter, when I was trying to be Kate I was far less distracted than I was being Steve.

Multiple Personalities, anyone?

As the spring break approached I eagerly anticipated being Kate full time and not having to change back and forth to earn a living. To make the break even better, Stephanie's school district had scheduled their break at the same time. I had waded through some truly creative English in my classes. I could hardly imagine what I would get if I were teaching a Creative Writing class — the students in a plain old literature class had an impressive streak of creativity, but most of it involving spelling and grammar, not plot and character.

Come to think of it, had anyone put the last few weeks of my life on paper for a creative writing class I would have had a hard time suspending my disbelief. Hell, I would have needed cables from the Golden Gate Bridge to hold my disbelief above the ground.

After a month of Stephanie gently correcting my behavior I grew more confident and poised when I was Kate. I was now competent at using a light coat of makeup to hide my masculinity and emphasize my femininity. Of all the facets of femininity, makeup was far and away my least favorite. Yes, I know the right makeup can produce spectacular results, but I never was all that impressed by artificial beauty. The women I tended to notice used very little enhancement outside of very special occasions, their beauty was internal. I was one of those fortunate men with a light beard, but I still had to hide it as Kate.

Tutelage on the Internet helped me modulate my voice and there came a time when I no longer had to consciously control my body language as Kate. Now the opposite was becoming true — I had to try to keep Kate out of Steve in public. I'm sure my colleagues noticed the changes, but no one got up the nerve to comment. Oddly enough, my newfound perspective actually helped me in the classroom. My lessons in femininity gave me new tools to work with my students.

A few days before the start of the break, we were sitting at Stephanie's kitchen table, still talking after finishing our meal. We were in the habit of trading the cooking each night and it was Steph's turn. We also collaborated on correcting our student's homework. Most of Kate's comments involved cute little stickers, so I was able to do a good deal to help her. We had developed the habit of reading papers together, which had the decided advantage of being able to snuggle close to each other."

"That's an interpretation I wouldn't have thought of." Steph mused.

"Yeah, most students go for the obvious sexual explanation. Kelly usually looks a little deeper than the others."

"Much like her teacher?"

"Her teacher is well aware of the sexual aspects of the situation. She is willing to look deeper so that when something sexual happens it will be worth the wait."

"My thoughts exactly. What do you want to do over the break?"

"Anything with you is fine with me. I'm looking foreword to letting Kate out for nine glorious days. If you are there that makes it even more glorious."

"Flatterer. "You certainly do jump into things with both feet, don't you Kate?"

"You've noticed."

"Sorry you started the whole thing?"

"Not a bit! I've a full blown case of New Toy Syndrome and the only cure is to let it run its course. My parents used to tell me that any time I got a new toy I would immediately forget about everything else in the toy box and play with the new one for days and days. I've always been like that; when I get interested in something I get almost obsessed, even as an adult. Now that Kate has come along I intend to do my best to make her genuine and really become Kate. Dr. Frankenstein, you have created a monster. Does that bother you?"

"Not really. I suppose most people would think the whole thing was insane or perverted, but Kate is a part of my life now. I suppose I'll have to go with you or spend the week without Kate."

"Is that such a trial?"

"I'm worried that the sexual aspects of the situation might be a trial for you."

"It is at times, but I have developed patience as well as a bustline."

"Could we share a room without any further invitation implied?"

"I think so. If it doesn't work I'll let you know."

"I'm very much aware of the sexual aspects of sharing a room, but I'm not ready to be more than your girlfriend quite yet."

"Then you don't have to worry. Kate and Steve both respect your wishes. When sex rears its head we'll only approach it by mutual consent."

"I knew you would say that or I wouldn't have brought it up. There's a lovely B&B down in the Corning area. We could see the Glass Center and some of the museums if we spent a couple of days there."

"And if Kate isn't real enough we are far enough from home it won't hurt us."

"Depends if you can stay out of jail."

"My thoughts are not actionable, my deeds will remain pure."

"Let's not go too far, girlfriend."

Kate, Part 2 Tales of Gender and Glass By Ricky

Having made the decision to live as Kate over the spring break, I spent even more time on the net, reading and learning. What did men with a need to crossdress do before the Internet? It must have been incredibly lonely. The evening we agreed to let Kate out into the real world I realized my small selection of clothes wouldn't work for an extended period in public.

So we went shopping again. Besides, I liked shopping for Kate; it's much more fun than buying clothes for Steve. The first stop was the mall, but only to get my ears pierced with little gold studs. I left the mall behind and hit the Volunteers of America thrift store, were I found a good and cheap source of clothes a normal woman would wear for an ordinary day, even if the selection on the larger end of the range wasn't quite so good. They also had purses, something I hadn't needed up until then.

Much as I was coming to love skirts, I realized that they did make me stand out in a world of women in slacks. I wasn't so sure I wanted to stand out. That had made me order a gaff, which was just as uncomfortable as it looked. Damned uncomfortable but on my first venture into the real world I didn't want to screw anything up.

Does this sound too much like a goal-oriented man instead of a relaxed woman? I know I went a little crazy, but once Stephanie agreed to come with me I wanted to do it right. All through my apprenticeship as a girlfriend she had been tolerant of my antics while being supportive at the same time. Not once did she offer a comment about creating a monster, or even make reference to Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. She coached me when I needed it and let me plunge undaunted into the Jungle of Femininity. I thought of it as a kind of Summer Session, where they pack an entire semester of learning into a few weeks.

I found a salon in Rochester that served crossdressers, far enough away from Brockport that I was unlikely to meet anyone I knew, although I suppose anyone I met there would have shared my interest in crossdressing. My meeting with Patty in the lingerie department had made me more cautious about shopping in town.

I booked an appointment for the Friday before Spring Break officially started. Since the students weren't the only ones eager to get an early start, this teacher had agreed to informally suspend classes without the administration knowing about it. I'll not repeat Stephanie's comments, as a second grade teacher is not afforded the opportunity to negotiate unscheduled days off with her students. She had to work.

The salon assured me that they had facilities for me to change into Kate so that I could arrive as plain old Steve. Friday afternoon I was too antsy to just wait around the house, so I went shopping again. I was beginning to think Kate was a spendthrift. Steve wasn't much for shopping, but Kate liked picking out outfits. Go figure.

I entered the small salon with no small amount of trepidation. No matter how welcoming they were to crossdressers, this was the first time anyone but Stephanie was going to know I had become a crossdresser. It was scary, but I was determined. The place was just off Monroe Avenue and a bit out of the way, not conspicuous at all. Marcia, the owner, greeted me with the voice I had heard on the phone.

"Hello. You must be Kate. Just come on in and I'll show you what we can do for you." I nodded nervously. "Relax, nobody's going to bite you — unless you pay extra, that is. Come over here and sit down."

"I guess it's obvious this is my first time."

"It gets easier with practice, you know. You look like you have a good bone structure for your female side. Do you have any idea what kind of look you are going to want?"

"Yes, I do." I took out a snap of me as Kate after Stephanie had done her best.

"Not too bad at all. You do that yourself?"

"No, a friend helps me with hot rollers and such, but I'm learning to do it myself. I want you to make the curls permanent but I need a cut that will let me be Steve as well."

"You don't want much, do you? You ever had a permanent before?"

"No."

"Well, it's easy on the victim - I mean customer - but the stuff stinks to high heaven. Don't worry, the smell will wash out, but the curls will stay in for quite a while. In a couple of months they'll start to relax, then you can get them done again or let it fade back to where you used to be. OK?"

"Sure. I'll decide what I want to do when that happens."

"Good. Just realize that once I do it you can't undo it. You're going to have a more feminine look. Will you be able to handle that?"

"As long as it isn't too over the top."

"Lots of men have curls these days. Once people get used to the new look you shouldn't have too much trouble. it's those first few days that are going to be difficult. Now, I'll do your hair and then Stella will take you into the back room and do the makeover. How much makeup have you done?"

"I've been practicing for a while and think I have the basics down pretty well. My friend is one of those women who seldom uses makeup, so she can't help me too much."

"Lord, people like that will put me out of business! Good thing crossdressers are a steady clientele. What Stella will do is show you some of the tricks and let you try them for yourself, just to get an idea how to do it right. You're going to have to practice quite a bit before you can do it easily, but I expect you know that." I nodded. "Good, she'll do a bang up job on you. Once you've had a bit of practice, your own mother won't know you when she's done. That's something most crossdressers appreciate."

"I suppose so. I don't intend to tell my mother." I laughed. If she were still with us, no doubt she would have been appalled.

"Your choice. You can change in the room through the door on the right. Get dressed all the way, just like you'll be when you leave the place."

I had brought Kate's clothes in my school bag, the one I usually lug around filled with texts and papers. I already had my bra on, so I took off my pants and shirt, drew my breast forms from the bag and slipped them in place. There — that felt better. I had been dissatisfied by my lack of hips whenever I looked in the mirror, so I had gotten a padded panty for my first outing. I put it on and it felt weird, like I was wrapped in gauze or something, but my outline was much more feminine.

The weather had stubbornly remained downright cold. I had chosen my dress because it was made from a heavy fabric, with a pair of thick tights it should keep me warm. I was looking forward to wearing it where I could walk freely and feel it around my body. With the padded panty I had that bit of loose fabric between bust and hip that real women have and I was pleased.

If I thought having Stephanie fuss over me was wonderful, Marcia took it to a whole new level. I've never had my hair washed by someone else before; feeling the warm water cascading as you lay back on the sink edge is very relaxing. My nervousness faded as Marcia's capable hands lathered me up and washed me off.

The actual perm was much like having Stephanie do my hair, except Marcia used a lot more little bitty rollers. As she worked she gave me tips on how to keep the style fresh and looking good once I was on my own. She was right, the solution did stink, but by that time my nose had gotten used to the sulfurous smell of the salon. I sat and waited the prescribed time, was neutralized and rinsed, then sat under a big, old fashioned hair dryer. The design evidently hadn't changed much since the 1940s. It looked just like the ones you see in the black and white movies from that era.

As I sat the salon began to fill with other customers. No one paid me any attention and I tried to return the favor. There were some flamboyant characters that certainly aroused my curiosity. My only complaint was the magazine selection — I'm not enough of a woman to appreciate what the stars are doing or the latest trends in makeup and fashion.

A timer dinged and Marcia removed the rollers and brushed my hair out, using a blower to give it some shape and body. When I put on my glasses again, I was pleased to see Kate sitting in the chair. I was thankful that my wire-rimmed frames were just as suitable for Kate as they were for Steve.

"Very nice, Marcia. You have a true gift."

"Thanks, Kate. It's always nice to help people make their dreams come true."

"That's funny, I had never dreamed I'd be doing this. It's only in the last couple of months that I discovered crossdressing. I guess that's pretty unusual for someone my age."

"A lady never tells about her age - or whether she's a lady. I had one customer who didn't start until she was 79 and her wife passed on. I hope you enjoy it, Kate. You look pretty good."

"Thanks."

"So go back there and let Stella make you beautiful. Enjoy yourself!"

I won't bore you with the lessons, anyone reading this has probably been through the process. What I really wanted was to learn how to do an absolute minimum job of makeup, one that would hide what showed of my beard but not shout "Look Everybody! She's wearing makeup!" It's not as easy as it sounds when you're trying to cover up a beard, even one as light as mine.

Stella was good at her trade It was much easier to do a good job when someone shows you how. DVD lessons were good enough to get me started, but her lessons filled in gaps I didn't even know were there. I had learned how to do my own makeup by trial and error, with many errors. Each time I failed, I would just wipe it off and start over again until I got completely frustrated.

The fun part was the full-blown makeover for that evening. Stella was a genius; she did amazing things to my face! By the time she was done, I looked pretty damn good, even if I was completely biased. Looking in the mirror I had complete confidence that I could carry off my first night in public as Kate. If I wasn't so afraid of mussing my makeup, I would have kissed her. I did the next best thing and bought all the supplies I would need to make myself beautiful. Don't ask how much it cost, I don't want to tell anyone.

I strolled down Monroe Avenue, an area of small shops and interesting people. I felt quite comfortable, at least when I wasn't concentrating on how I was walking. On impulse I dropped into Archimage, a palace of a thousand delights, and found a necklace that went with my blouse, so I wore it out of the shop. There was a nail salon a couple of blocks from the hairdressers, so I went in to have my nails done.

I normally keep my nails clipped short. As a kid I was the despair of my parents because I was constantly chewing on them. I don't really know why I did it; it just felt good. Now that I think of it, I can say that about the whole crossdressing thing. In any case, I had started to let them grow, but there was a limit to how far I was willing to go. I had a garden to take care of and extremely long fingernails would be a real pain. I had enough trouble getting the dirt from under my short nails.

Things had been going so well that I was hardly even nervous when I went into the nail salon. The girl behind the counter — she was so young I couldn't call her a woman — was so stereotypically the blonde beach girl I had to suppress a chuckle. She inspected my hands and happily filed and buffed away while I relaxed in the comfortable chair. I was tempted to get a set of false nails so I could really show off, but, thinking of how much I had already spent that day, I just had them manicured and painted for the first time in my life. Once again, the feeling of being fussed over was a true joy. Maybe if more men had the experience of such attention more often, they would stop with all the macho bullshit.

Feeling like a million dollars, I wandered some more, then drove back home. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to scratch the itches that appeared by the dozens on my face? Without the distractions of shopping and having my nails done, I might as well have used poison ivy as a foundation. I hadn't even considered just what I would go through once I was made up. It was ridiculous! How did women manage to keep their fingers off their faces?

I had told Stephanie I had a surprise for her and to get dressed up for something special. I had reservations at the Avon Inn, a lovely place in a town far enough away that no one would recognize us. They're on the web (Who isn't these days. Try Avoninn.com if you want to see the place.) I had been there before for one of my colleague's birthday parties. The food was good and the atmosphere was casual but elegant. The main hall was lined with pictures of wedding parties that had been there over the years. It was a very welcoming place.

I pulled up in Steph's driveway and got out. She must have heard the car pull up, because she was there before I could ring the bell.

"Oh my God! Kate!" she squealed and I knew it had all been worth it.

"I guess it worked." I said in my best voice.

"You have ear rings! They're so cute!" She hugged me and I feared for my makeup.

"Cute enough to go out with and celebrate our temporary release from bondage, girlfriend?"

"Only if you let me buy the sparkling grape juice since I don't drink champagne. I knew we were going to have to do this sometime. We need to celebrate!"

"Then hop in. I have reservations at the Avon Inn."

"Nice! Just let me get my purse, OK?"

"OK!"

Within minutes we were off, cruising down the secondary roads through the farm country. It was a lovely evening for a drive and the company made it all the better. We didn't talk much on the way, but that was just fine, we didn't need to. Modern America has lost the capacity for amicable silence between friends. It's only reactionary holdouts like us that keep it alive with our friendship.

The girl at the reception desk didn't so much as blink an eye and our server didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. By then I had gotten used to the feel of my padded panty. One thing for sure, I wasn't going to have to worry about a sore butt on a hard chair when I wore it. I felt like I was sitting on a cloud.

I was almost disappointed, I had been working on what to say if someone decided I wasn't really a woman and I didn't have to use any of it.

If you're ever at the Avon Inn, I recommend the French onion soup au gratin. Very good! I was just starting to enjoy my Garlic Lime Salmon when I realized I had made a major mistake. I was far enough away from town to avoid my students, but the colleague whose birthday party had introduced me to the Inn was being seated just three tables away! I lost my appetite then and there. It wasn't long before Stephanie noticed I wasn't eating.

"What's wrong, Kate?"

"See the man in the gray suit a couple of tables over? He teaches in the same building I do. He's the one who introduced me to this place," I said as quietly as I could.

"Well, I suppose under the circumstances I won't ask for an introduction then."

"But what if...."

"He notices you acting in a peculiar manner and looks more closely?"

"That doesn't help," I murmured.

"Then just act like the lady you are and no one will be any the wiser."

Stephanie is always full of good advice, almost always when I don't want to hear it. She hadn't been kidding about nagging me; she had been a veritable Drill Sergeant of Femininity for the past couple of months. She gradually drilled away at my unconscious masculine habits and filled the holes with femininity. I trusted her good sense and I gradually felt my panic recede as I finished the meal.

The only hitch came when it came time to pay the bill. I had not thought of getting cash for the evening, so I had to use my credit card. The server gave me a rather close look when I presented the card with the name Stephen printed boldly on it. Did he read me? Or did he assume it was my husband's name? I'll never know. In any case, he was the personification of politeness.

The Avon Inn has some lovely gardens, even in the chill of early spring I wanted to show them to Stephanie. Before I did I had to face the ultimate test of my new identity. I pushed open the door marked 'Women' and prayed that there would be no one else in the place. To my immense relief there wasn't. I sat and concluded my business, then washed my hands and checked my makeup. Still in good condition, I had successfully suppressed the urge to scratch, so I just applied a little more lipstick and gave my hair a brush. It was a thrill to open my purse — MY purse — and do that. Silly, but it was!

The gardens were beautiful in the twilight; throwing caution to the wind, I took Stephanie's hand as we walked. She simply smiled and we enjoyed each other's company. There is a lovely wrought iron bench where, despite the chill, we sat and watched the sunset in companionable silence, enjoying each other's presence.

On the way back home, Stephanie sat closer to me than was her wont, her warmth against me a very pleasant feeling..

"Kate?" There was a question in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing all this?"

I took my time to give her a straight answer and she was content to wait.

"At first it was a joke, a kind of silly joke we were sharing. I liked you as soon as I met you, Steph, you're fun to be around. The more I got to know you, the more I liked you, but that day you threw the horseshit at me something changed."

"It was an accident! I didn't throw it!"

"Quiet, who's telling this story? That's what did it, Steph. I felt like your girlfriend that day; it was something that I had never experienced before. Men just don't think or talk that way, don't share that closeness. I didn't want to lose that closeness, that connection. We joked about clothes, but I wonder now how much was really something both of us knew unconsciously. I half fell in love with you that day."

There, I'd said it. Her hand tightened on my thigh but she said nothing.

"I suppose it helps that I liked wearing your panties, but that's not all of it. The more I became your girlfriend, the happier you seemed; that means a lot to me. What I hadn't expected was how much I enjoyed trying to be a woman, at least as much as any man can. It may have started as a lark, but I like wearing a bra, I like skirts and stockings. I never had any desire to wear them before, but I do now."

"It's not just the clothes, though. When I get dressed up as Kate, I've learned to think differently. Part of it was listening to you, really listening when you talked to me. I've never had anyone trust me the way you have, Steph. It's a wonderful thing, a brightness in my soul that has never been there. Even when you're not with me, I think like Kate when I'm dressed like her. The first time I graded my student's papers while I was being Kate was quite an experience. I said the same things I would have said as Steve, but the emphasis was different – a little less judgmental, a little more guiding. My students have noticed it, too and I think I'm a better teacher for it.

"My life has changed completely and it's because of you and for you, but it's also for me. I feel like a whole person. I want to be Kate for the next week and learn what she has to offer. And I want you to be with me and help me. You've become very special to me, Stephanie."

"Oh Kate, I...." Her hand again tightened on my thigh. Before she could frame a reply, we turned into the driveway.

"Want to come in and see what I bought?"

"Try to keep me out!"

I popped open the trunk and removed several bags. I handed her a couple and took the rest.

"I'll say you've been shopping. Why didn't you take me?"

"Because you were entertaining a bunch of small children."

I laid my purchases out on the kitchen table.

"Kate, you don't just show them to me, you model them for me. That's how it's done, girlfriend."

"Ever the teacher, eh? In that case, which one first?

"The sundress. They didn't have one in my size, did they?"

"I stuck to the thrift stores, but they have to have thrift stores in Corning. However, I'm leaving my credit cards at home. I want to have enough money left to live on."

I started to wiggle my way out of my dress, but it was warm enough to make it stick to my back. I felt her gentle hands pull the fabric away and help me get it over my head. Once it was off, she wrapped her arms around me and held me for a moment. For the first time since I had become her girlfriend, I started to get an erection, which was not what I wanted quite yet.

"I can't put on the sundress if you don't let go."

"What a shame!" She nibbled on my ear and my erection became unmistakable beneath my panties. "Steve?"

"Mmmm...."

"It's time for Kate to go away for a while."

What happened next is exactly what you think happened next, but that's all I'm going to say about it.

---

I awoke with the delicious feeling of having someone in the bed next to me, her breast warm beneath my hand. It had been a long time for both of us, but the wait had been worth it. I played with the breast so temptingly under my hand until she began to stir, then kissed her gently.

"Mmmm. That's nice. Do it again." I did it again, then we did it again. Slowly, languorously, thoroughly. In the afterglow we lay dreamily watching the ripples of shadow on the ceiling as the wind blew the slats of the window shade.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" she asked in a small voice.

"Because I don't think either one of us was ready until now. I gave up on one-night stands a long time ago. They may satisfy the urge for a moment, but I always felt guilty, felt like I was using someone instead of treating them as a whole person. After all you've told me, I knew a quick fling with a with my landlady would be downright cruel."

"That's what makes you so special, you think about the other person before you think about yourself. Not many men are like that."

"I can't be that unusual."

"I'm not going to touch that one with a ten foot pole, GIRLfriend."

"Good thing I'm only a few inches long, then."

"Very good, indeed. I'm glad I had my tubes tied, or we would have been very frustrated last night."

"There are other ways, my dear. Lovely as it was to find myself in you, I could have waited until we were safe. I'm not about to make anyone an unwed mother."

"You see, that just isn't the way most men would think, at least not the ones I've met. You have the soul of a woman; that's why you can be Kate and seem so real. How many men could do that?"

"I really don't know. Thinking like Kate isn't hard at all. The sharing, the closeness is just natural when I'm around you. I've always been a bit of a recluse, but the seeds were there. Funny how this all started with gardening; once you were there to nurture those seeds, they grew and flowered. But making Kate a real person to anyone but you isn't as easy. At first it was a lark, a silly game we were playing. What I hadn't expected was just how good it felt to simply be wearing the clothes. I suppose wearing a bra is nothing special for you, you do it because it keeps those pretty tits of yours from bouncing around and hurting."

"Too right! I also wear a bra because there would be a scandal if I didn't. School administrators are pretty conservative."

"What was it like the first time you wore a bra? Can you remember?"

"Lord, yes, I remember! I started developing early; I was ten years old when I started to need a bra. It was a funny thing though, getting your first bra was a sign of growing up and most girls couldn't wait to try on a training bra. On the other hand, really needing to wear a real bra at ten was embarrassing; it set me apart. I got teased a lot until my friends caught up with me. Well, they didn't exactly catch up with me; I still had the biggest tits in my class. Made it easy to get dates, but boys tended to be more interested in my cleavage than in me.

"I suppose I would have been drooling along with all the rest if I had known you then. The first time I saw you in that tank top, I had a hard time behaving myself."

"I noticed. But you were polite about it and I liked you for that. My sister Lucy had it worse than me, though."

"Oh...." I prompted.

"Yeah, she eventually grew into an F cup."

"Oh my god! Back in high school, I probably would have been right there scoping her out and making a total ass of myself. Now I can imagine what she had to go through, I can't tell you how many times I've bounced off a doorframe in the last few weeks and I'm only a C cup."

"The worst part was this place was a dairy farm while we were growing up."

It took me a second to put the pieces together. "Your poor sister must have been warped for life! I can see a herd of horny, acne ridden teenage boys following her going 'Moo'!"

"Exactly! She finally had breast reduction surgery and now she's smaller than me. She's very happy about it.

"You know, if I'd heard that story a year ago, it would never have occurred to me that big tits could be a problem. From a guy's point of view, the bigger the better. You know what? After the first couple weekends as Kate, I had a minor backache. I finally figured out my muscles were adjusting to the weight of the breast forms. I can only imagine what it was like for your sister."

"You should have seen the crevices her bra straps dug in her shoulders — Grand Canyon time."

It's weird how I never gave much thought to how a bra works until I started wearing one; now I can only regret all the years I missed. The closest guys come to a first bra is maybe the first time we wear a jockstrap. It's not quite the same, you put it on for PE and then you take it off. It's not something you do every day. It's a Rite of Passage for girls, guys in our culture don't have anything equivalent."

"My, you've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"

"Yeah. You think you know yourself and then something happens that lets you know there are corners in your mind you haven't explored. What I'm trying to say is just how good it felt to be wearing a bra that first time. I was playing a game, half thinking I could get you in bed if things went right."

"Were you really?"

"Absolutely. That day with your mother and all the jokes about bras and panties started me thinking, but spending the afternoon with you and being treated more like a girlfriend than a guy gave me a feeling like I've never had before. I don't make friends too easily, but you were suddenly the closest friend I had had in years. I didn't really think it out back then, but it went something like this: If being your girlfriend was such a wonderfully satisfying experience, then trying to be more like a girl might make it be all the more rewarding, so I put your panties on the next morning when I got dressed.

"What I didn't expect was how much I liked wearing your panties. Wearing them was a lark, but after a day I really liked how nylon felt. The first thing I did when I got back from class was to try on your bra. I was frustrated it wouldn't fit me, you know. I could barely get it hooked and the straps cut into me like blazes, but it was enough to make me want more."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. If panties felt so good, I wanted to know what a real, properly fitting bra would feel like. The only thing that kept me from going out and getting one for myself was your promise to buy one with me. I guess it's as close as a guy can come to what you felt like waiting for your first bra. I wanted to do it right. Since I knew I wouldn't be growing any tits of my own, I had to buy them. I guess I knew I was committed to this girlfriend thing when I actually bought the forms."

"I could hardly believe you'd done that. I know how expensive breast forms are."

"Well, they weren't cheap but it didn't beggar me. I have a decent inheritance stashed in the bank from my parents and living the single life with a good job and a modest lifestyle has let me build up a bit of a nest egg. I may complain about being an adjunct, but it's a good life."

"And just how committed to the single life are you?"

"That pretty much depends on you, but I gave it up last night."

"Did you now?"

"I found a couple of good reasons," I replied and caressed her breasts.

"So by coupling we've become a couple?

"I damn well hope so. Have we?

"If you feed me breakfast, I might agree."

"Damn! I finally get you in bed and now all you can think of is getting out."

---

It had been a long time since I had shared a bathroom with anyone. I could see Stephanie watching me in the mirror as I shaved. There was a visible layer of dust on my old electric shaver; I had been using a triple blade in my attempts to keep Kate's face smooth for quite a while now.

"It must be a pain to have to do that every day," she remarked.

"Too right. Kate has to do it twice a day if she's going to be around in the late evening. It's enough to make me think of electrolysis."

"Your beard isn't that heavy."

"Not really. At one time I was upset it looked so thin and patchy, but now I'm happy enough I'm not some bushy brute. Funny how things change, isn't it?"

"Speaking of changes, I hate to put on yesterday's clothes after getting all clean."

"You could run naked through the yard and go get your own clothes, or I can give you some underwear."

"You know damn well that yours won't fit me."

"You didn't let me finish opening my packages last night, girlfriend. I had a present for you in there."

"You do? How thoughtful. Should I close my eyes?"

"Not unless you want to. I intend to keep mine open and on your delectable body until you finally cover it up."

"Stop that!"

"Not a chance. You're the one who told Kate to go away."

"Behave yourself, we can't spend the entire day in bed…."

"Think we can do it again? I have to admit I'm stretched a bit thin right now. It will take awhile to recharge, if you know what I mean."

"I know very well what you mean. You can demonstrate it tonight and no sooner!"

We didn't talk much for a little while.

"We need to get dressed. I want to share the news with Kate. My girlfriend would be very annoyed if I didn't tell her that I'm in love."

"You know, this could get very confusing."

"I suppose it could. Just remember — if you're wearing a bra, you're probably Kate. If you're only wearing panties, you're probably Steve."

"I'm not wearing anything right now. What does that make me?"

"Exasperating! You were telling me you had a present for me."

"Of course. Come in the living room and I'll show you."

I had let my enthusiasm run away with me yesterday. There was this emerald green dress that really caught my eye. It was one of those crossover styles that draw your attention to the breasts, with a tie in the back to make very sure they're clearly defined. The half sleeves and full skirt were cut to look like leaf edges and there was a faint pattern to the material that completed the leaf motif.

I took the dress out of the shopping bag and handed it to Stephanie. Her reaction was all I could hope for. When she let me breathe again, I gave her the bra and panty set I had gotten for her to wear with it.

"Why, they're lovely. I've never had anyone give me a bra as a present before. Well, besides my mother when I was a kid."

"That makes us even. I've never bought a bra for anyone but myself before. I confused the poor lady at the checkout by getting two of everything — in different sizes."

"You sly devil. How did you explain that?"

"I told her one was for my wife and the other for my girlfriend. That way I wouldn't have to worry about getting them mixed up."

I took out the mates to her outfit in my size and set them on the table. "I wasn't going to let you have all the fun by yourself."

"Kate, you have more balls than any girlfriend I've ever had."

"And you'd be the one to know all the details. I even signed their mailing list and in a few weeks my mailbox will be filled with catalogs. Oh, I almost forgot." I fished out a pair of pantyhose from the bag. "For the woman who has fewer pantyhose than I do. I didn't get any shoes, you'll have to supply those yourself."

"Piker. So what's left in the bag?"

"The rest of the fashion show you didn't want to see last night."

"You're impossible!"

"No, merely improbable. Much like the chances of meeting a woman like you."

I ceased breathing for a while; my mouth was otherwise occupied.

"We ought to cause quite a stir when we arrive at the B&B in these."

"Not on your life. What would they look like after a couple of hours in the car. We take them with us and wear them to the museum tomorrow."

"There you go being all practical again. I suppose I'll have to give you your other present then."

"Another?"

"Something in the ether must have told me you were going to need lots of underwear once you let me start removing them from your body. I intend to do so every chance I get!"

"You have that lovely bra on so you're officially Kate, besides you'll ruin your panty lines if you keep this up! No more sex until we get to the B&B. Then quiet sex only or they might get upset."

"Who was the one screaming last night?"

"Well…"

"And this morning. I just discretely grunted. Since I wasn't wearing a bra I grunted like Steve would have."

"Stop it!

"Then get dressed. Here's your new bra. You will note it matches the one you just cited to keep us out of bed."

"You are something else!"

"And we shall not specify any further. I need to wash off the makeup I didn't have time to remove last night. For that matter, you might want to remove my makeup from your body before we go out."

---

One good part of traveling as two women was that I didn't have any urge to hog the driving. Since Stephanie knew where she was going and I didn't she took the wheel. One bad thing about traveling as two women was the number of suitcases in the trunk and back seat. We had elected to leave my pickup behind since the gas mileage on Steph's sedan was far better. I tried to keep clothing to a minimum, but with chilly weather calling for bulky clothing that meant fat suitcases. We might only be a day or two, but we had the entire week and you never knew!

So much for SPRING break. The weather was in the thirties, the hills on the way down remained cloaked in their grey winter clothing, unlike the two women in bright peasant blouses and embroidered skirts. Yes, Stephanie had put on a skirt for a change. I suppose the exhilaration of vacation must have made her reckless. The exhilaration of being a woman was all I needed to dress like a gypsy. Who cares about the weather?

Actually, with a decent coat, a long skirt is surprisingly comfortable in the cool weather. Just don't move around too much and let the chilly air inside!

Getting out of the car after finding the B&B I couldn't believe how alive it felt to be standing in the open before the gingerbread confection of a house. It was surrounded by hills, which I resolutely thought of as soon-to-be-green, on a quiet street. Lifting and dropping the fearsome gargoyle knocker on the front door soon brought a tall, grey haired man to the door.

"Welcome, ladies. I'm your host Richard Wilkins. Do you need any help with your luggage?"

Somewhere deep inside of me Steve cried "No!" but he was muted by the lovely feeling of having someone take care of things for you. That may be just as rewarding a part of being a woman as the freedom or the clothes..

"Thank you, sir. That would be lovely!" I answered.

"You have the Twin Room, if I recall correctly."

Oops. When we reserved a room twin beds were a reasonable compromise. That changed last night! Stephanie was a bit faster to react than I was.

"That's the one we reserved, but the more we thought about it the more we think the view from your Blue Room would be worth the climb up the stairs. Is it still available?"

"I'm sorry, it's been taken. The Red Room is open, however. The side window does look over the town like the main window in the Blue Room."

"Could we look at it? The pictures on line were lovely, but it's so much nicer to see it directly"

"Of course. If you'll follow me?"

I had to hand it to Steph, she managed that without having to tell Richard we wanted a nice, big bed to cavort in. Was there going to be any trouble with two women sharing a bed?

The bed was a Queen size, much to our anticipated delight, but we made a fuss about the view of the town. It was a lovely view, to be sure, but not really our first consideration. The only drawback to the room was that it didn't have its own bathroom. I hoped our fellow lodgers were not the kind to linger in the communal facilities. I didn't relish standing in the hall in my nightgown, waiting my turn.

"It's as lovely as the pictures made it look, Richard." I told him. "We would want it for at least two nights, maybe more if things work out. We have no firm plans, just a desire to get away from it all during the spring break."

"Not much of a spring so far. Maybe you should have gone to the beaches in Florida? He suggested with a grin.

"We'll leave that to our students, dear man." Stephanie replied. "Although I remember back in '81 I did have quite a time there."

"I'm afraid we can't supply any sand but, if can ignore the weather and brought your bikinis, we do have a hot tub on the deck."

"At my age I'm not sure if wearing a bikini would test your gallantry or your tolerance, and I don't care to find out. Thank you for the compliment, all the same."

"I'm sure my gallantry would be up to the task and, if it wasn't, my wife would find a way to keep me in line."

"And a gentleman, as well. What more could we ask?"

"Anything your heart desires. If we can help the service is yours."

With a bow he closed the door to the room.

"Was that a come on?"

"Not unless his wife wants to make it a foursome. That would give them a bit of a surprise. By the way, I think I would enjoy seeing you in a bikini."

"Then shall we see if we can find one? Or maybe two. Think we would look cute in matching bikinis?"

"You seem to have been taken in by the illusion I project."

"Sometimes I forget, but it was fun to watch your face when I made the suggestion."

"I would have preferred an indecent suggestion, myself."

"That comes later. Do you really want to have to get dressed and do your makeup over for dinner?"

"It would be worth it!"

Perhaps, but we came here to see the sights. Let's check out the Gaffer District and see if there's more to it than tourist hype."

"Does that mean I have to put on my gaff? That thing is a pain!"

"Considering your recent suggestions, you may need to be restrained. In this usage a Gaffer is someone who blows glass, you should pardon the expression."

"How can I restrain myself when you keep feeding me straight lines?"

"In your case they should be LGBT lines. Do you have the camera? You can't be a tourist without a camera."

"The cell phone will do for today. I don't want to lug around anything more than necessary today."

Locking the room we went down the hall, but as we approached the stairs we could hear voices from below. I must have truly become a woman because we both stopped and shamelessly listened in.

"Richard? Why did you move those two women to the red Room? There's only one bed in there."

"They did the moving, supposedly for the view. If you ask me, they sure wouldn't be interested in two beds!"

"Richard!"

"Martha! If they aren't lovers then I need to get new glasses. If I weren't married to the most wonderful woman in the world I might be willing to share a bed with either one of them, myself."

"Richard!"

"When you keep an inn you have to keep out of your patron's business, love. Lovers or friends sharing expenses, their money's still good."

"I suppose, but I still don't like it. It's not natural."

"If we lived a natural life we would be squatting around a fire in the woods and starving to death. I prefer civilization and warm houses. Lesbian couples are a small price to pay."

"I don't know why I married you! You are the most exasperating man!"

"But I'm not a lesbian. That must count for something."

"No, but you're still exasperating. I'll try to be more modern, I suppose. As long as they don't try anything with me."

"Darling, would you be going out of your way to proposition one of our guests?"

"As if I would tell YOU!"

"As a purely hypothetical inquiry, then?

"Hypothetically, you know darned well I wouldn't!"

"Then why would one of them proposition you? Or both of them if you want to get kinky."

"Stop being so ridiculously logical. You're the one who likes the kinky stuff. I'm trying to work up a snit here."

"OK, I'll shut up and think about getting kinky, then. I might just hit on something you'll like."

"Richard!"

"Are you trying to wear out my name?"

"Are you trying to wear out my patience?"

"Well, if you want kinky there's no time like the present."

"There's no time, period! The yard needs looking after and I have laundry to do."

"Spoilsport!"

"Go do something useful. I'll be in the basement."

Footsteps receded and a door opened and closed. I looked at Stephanie, my fellow eavesdropper.

"That was an interesting conversation."

"Indeed. In an odd sort of way, being considered a lesbian is quite a compliment."

"Is it that obvious we're a couple?"

"Were you or were you not holding my hand as we walked up to the house?"

"Oh! Kind of a giveaway, isn't it?

"Covers one secret with another, I suppose. Are we going to go for a drive or wait to see if we can overhear them when he gets her into bed?"

"Now who's being kinky?"

"Let's not go there, we might not like the answers."

"But then again — we might!"

---

The gaffer's district may have been interesting during the summer, but with the temperature rapidly dropping to freezing we just cruised at random in the car. We found a Salvation Army and proceeded to empty our purses and fill our trunk. I suppose it was cheaper than going to Florida, but I'm not sure.

Having looked at Corning, I made Stephanie go to Painted Post. I had no reason to go there except I liked the name. There was, indeed, a painted post there at one time. White settlers found it and the natives never explained why it was there or what it was for — possibly because they were busy trying to avoid getting slaughtered. It had thirteen figures painted in red and disappeared into legend long ago, but the unique name remains.

We had dinner at a nice little place called Pierri's. I grossed Stephanie out by ordering the liver, bacon and onions while she had some nice, healthy broiled fish. I had to promise never to profane our kitchen with something as disgusting as liver and it wasn't until much later that I realized the assumption inherent in 'our kitchen'.

Another milestone happened that night. It wasn't until I was halfway through the job that I realized I had entered the ladies room without even thinking about it. I haven't thought so much about satisfying bodily functions since I was toilet trained. Life sure goes in strange paths.

---

The next morning we were a little nervous about breakfast after the conversation we had overheard. I hoped there wouldn't be any unpleasantness. Much to our relief it was a wonderful meal. I had to wonder, though. Richard and Martha were glowing in a way that made me think they must have been doing exactly what Stephanie and I had been doing not long before. Could the thought of two lesbians cavorting in the next room have added a little spice to their lovemaking?

Maybe there was no glow coming from them, but only the afterglow of our lovemaking. It had been a while for me and years for Stephanie. The sex was more satisfying than any I could remember and I was almost ready to admit that love was the ingredient that had been missing before.

Love? Forty odd years and several relationships, but I don't think I had ever been truly in love. Was I this time? It certainly was different than any previous relationship. Barely an hour after taking the male role in one of humanity's most ancient pursuits I had enthusiastically strapped a bra around my chest, filled it with false breasts and assumed the role of a woman. And I loved it! Was I crazy or only on the road to insanity?

"If you're just going to hold that piece of toast in the air I can think of a better use for it!" Stephanie broke my reverie.

"Sorry, just lost in thought'"

"Well, at least you're still thinking. I stopped that when class ended on Friday and don't intend to resume until next Monday."

"Then I guess I'll have to think up something for us to do today. Want to go to the Corning Glass Museum?"

"What a marvelous idea! I never would have thought of it."

"I'll split the toast with you and then we can go."

---

The Museum was so close that our car's heater had only grudgingly begun to emit a tepid trickle of lukewarm air before we were parked. Some spring break! We've been gypped! Even though it's only a couple of blocks between the parking lot and the Museum itself, we gladly waited in the heated shelter to take the heated bus. Heat is a wonderful thing when Spring has an identity crisis and thinks it's Winter!

"Wow, this place has changed." Stephanie gasped as we entered.

"Kind of like some other things I can think of."

'Oh no! They didn't do that! Stephanie pointed at a 20 foot, round, crosshatched glass something in a massive metal frame."

"What did they do?"

"They changed the Palomar telescope display."

"OK, I'll bite. What's wrong with it. Looks impressive enough to me."

"But you didn't see it before! When I was a kid that lens was at the entrance to the museum. It was all alone in a dark room and lit from behind so it glowed. It was the most beautiful, ethereal thing I had ever seen."

"How can something that big be ethereal?"

"The same way you can be a woman, it just IS. When they made it, it was the largest piece of glass ever made. It cracked and they had to do it all over again, but they kept the first try for the museum. I loved to see it floating there in the dark."

"From the wistfulness in your voice I wish I could have seen it."

"Some changes aren't for the better."

"And some are. Falling in love with you and finding Kate have been changes I never dreamed of, but wouldn't go back for anything."

"Falling in love? With me?"

"Yeah, it kinda just popped out. I realized I loved you this morning at breakfast."

"Oh."

"I know you may not be ready to trust anyone that far again, but I want you to know I love you, Stephanie Petrillo."

How many people have made a pledge of undying love in the middle of the crowded entranceway to a museum? My timing sucked, but what can you do when love takes over your brain?

"I think I love you, too, Kate. it's scary and exciting and wonderful. I just didn't know how to say it."

"'I love you' works for me."

"It isn't that easy for me to say."

"So then think it or dream it or whatever works. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other."

"Don't make me cry. Why did you have to pick this place to tell me, you… you…."

"Ah, an' me Irish heart was just burstin' with joy and couldna' be contained, me lass!"

"No! That Irish crap is bad enough when Steve does it! I never want to hear Kate do it or I'll feed her to a leprechaun."

"Och, perhaps if I were to try something with a right good Scottish burr instead of an Irish lilt?"

"You wouldn't need a gaff any more."

"Then shall we stroll arm-in-arm amongst the exhibits and think of love at a later time?"

"I will if you will."

"You have correctly identified the problem. Any ideas about the solution?"

"It will come to us, bye and bye."

"Right. Just for that, you buy the tickets

---

The special exhibits were of Czechoslovakian glass, even from that one small country there was a wide range of creativity. Much of it was modern and abstract, interesting but not something I could really appreciate. Stephanie surprised me by how many of the things I looked at casually intensely fascinated her. There are as many facets to a personality as there are to a piece of cut glass.

Once through the special exhibit area, the first thing you see in the permanent exhibits are some glass bottles. Nothing remarkable until you realize they are over four thousand years old! How is it that I can't keep a drinking glass intact for six months and someone kept those bottles whole and unbroken for forty centuries or more? I guess they don't make glass like they used to!

The lasting impression I came away with was of the stunning diversity in what you can do with glass. There was a stunning cameo plate with an intricately carved scene of Moorish women bathing that took the artist years to complete. The plate was cast with layers of blue and white glass, then slowly carved with a delicacy that required almost religious dedication.

Then there was the chandelier. The word pales in comparison to the object, a huge, stunning collection of glass taller than I am which must have weighed tons. As we stood staring one of the other patrons remarked casually "You know how they hung those things in their castles?"

"Probably made the servants climb up a ladder carrying one piece at a time and assemble it." Stephanie replied.

"Well, I actually meant how did they made sure the castle ceiling wouldn't collapse under the weight."

"I haven't a clue."

"Elephants."

"Elephants?"

"Yes, they built a ramp to the top of the castle for the elephant climb up and do a little dance on the roof. If the castle didn't collapse then you could hang the chandelier without having it come crashing down on the king while he was eating his dinner."

"Now that's creative problem solving! What did they do with the dead elephant in the rubble if the castle wasn't strong enough?

"Probably made the servants carve it up into smaller pieces and carry it out. I suppose the King threw one hell of a big outdoor bar-b-que if that happened."

"Waste not - want not. You would need a pretty big vat of bar-b-que sauce to slather on the ribs, though."

"But you wouldn't need more than one rib for a meal."

"I can see the invitations now! 'Bet you can't eat just one'."

"I don't think that even a great slogan could sell elephant chips."

Who says museums have to be stuffy? We were chuckling about elephant chips for the rest of the day.

We saw glass tables, stained glass windows, the glass breaking show, glass plates and utensils of every description, glass artwork to make your soul sing! One of my favorites was a beautiful chess set with the pieces depicting Catholic and Jewish clerics in wildly fanciful poses. There were all kinds of interesting and beautiful things to see.

I particularly loved the glass blowing show. Before your eyes a master craftsman creates a vase or bowl or plate, beauty were there was none moments before. Then, when he's done, he throws it in a bin and it shatters to pieces! Unless you carefully cool the glass over a day or so it will simply explode from the stress of cooling. They don't have enough room in the annealing ovens for all the stuff they make for the shows, so it gets chucked back into the furnace and used over.

We spent the entire day there, cleverly funneled through the gift shop to exit the museum. We drooled over the Steuben Glass, incredible handcrafted pieces of art in crystal clear glass. About all we could do is drool - the prices were equally stunning, $5,000 pieces were not the exception! The rest of the gift shop was much more affordable; we became members of the museum to get the 25% discount on everything in the store for joining.

When the museum closed and they politely threw us out, we took the recommendation of one of the museum staff and ate at the Gaffer Grille. Nice steaks and a friendly atmosphere to finish the day. Later that evening, snuggled up on bed in our matching nightgowns, Stephanie asked me a question.

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"A long time ago you said that any two people could enjoy sex together if they wanted to."

"You couldn't have enough energy for sex after the day we spent!" I guess I really was exhausted.

"That's not what I meant! Then you said that being in love makes sex something special. Last night was special. So was this morning and spending the day with you."

"Even after picking about the worst possible place to tell you that I love you?"

"Well, candlelight and soft guitars might have been a better choice. But you said it. I never hoped to hear anyone tell me they loved me after how badly I screwed up my marriage.

"Let's get one thing straight! YOU did not screw up the marriage. You may have had a part in the problem, but your husband was a piece of work and I don't blame you for pulling into your shell. Leaving yourself open to another person isn't easy. You opened a whole new world for me when you taught me how to be Kate. I couldn't have done it unless you were willing to open yourself to me."

"Was it so very hard? Kate seems so very real to me. I'm in love with her, too."

"My, a lovers' triangle with only two people. Good thing I'm not the jealous type."

"Stop that! I'm trying to be serious."

"I know you are. I guess I'm a bit nervous about how this will all work out."

"Well, so am I. I was sure I would never fall in love again, but you changed my mind."

"When I hit forty, I pretty much figured I was going to be a bachelor for the rest of my life, too."

"This is starting to sound like a 19th century melodrama, except they would have been scandalized to have two women saying the lines."

"If you expect me to burst into song about my undying love, you'll be disappointed. They threw me out of the choir in Sunday School."

"Maybe they knew you'd like wearing the robe a little too much. Just remember, in the second act things go to hell in a melodrama."

"It's a good thing those old melodramas always had a happy ending."

"True, but first we have to get through the part where my mother finds out you've moved in with me."

"Is that an invitation?"

"No."

"Then what..."

"It was an order. A done deal. A command performance. A requirement. Non-negotiable. I'll be damned if I'll sleep alone thinking about you in another bed after last night."

In the rosy glow of the melodramatic pledges of undying love, I completely missed the part about telling her mother.

"Not to change the subject, but do you like camping?

"Where did that come from?"

"An overly active mind jumping ahead to the summer. I try to spend my summer vacation camping and seeing the country. If we're going to be living together we need to think about how we'll spend the summer."

"I haven't been camping in years, but when I was a kid the family went whenever we could find someone to watch the cows for a weekend. We had an old popup tent trailer that barely fit all of us inside. Lucy and I would sleep in our own tent if it wasn't raining and stay up all night giggling at each other."

"Sounds decadent to me. I just throw a tent and sleeping bag in the truck and head for the woods."

"Kate, a lady does not sleep on the ground in the woods."

"She doesn't?"

"This lady does not. Up until recently I would have said this lady prefers a Bed & Breakfast, but I am not keen on spending the summer in places where the owners are speculating about what the two of us are doing in bed."

"Maybe we should do it in the living room so no one has to speculate?"

"Maybe you should consider doing it by yourself."

"Been there, done that. Nobody gave me a T-shirt, though."

"If you weren't so damn good in bed I might have to reconsider…"

"We could rent a trailer. Then we could do it in our own bed wherever we are."

"Only if you make breakfast."

"In bed or in the kitchen?"

"Gives a whole new spin to cream of wheat, doesn't it?"

"Well, buttering it might come in handy later, but where would you put the milk?"

"On your head!"

"Which one?"

"This conversation is over! You're impossible!"

"Merely improbable, but thanks for the compliment."

---

After admitting we were in love, the idea of continuing our mini-vacation just seemed too much work. We packed up and headed back home. The next morning I awoke with that slightly confused sensation you get from being in an unfamiliar bed. The light came from the wrong angle, the sounds weren't quite right and most of all there was someone in the bed with me. Once I had satisfied the primitive part of my brain that all was well, I snuggled up to the body next to me and drifted into a pleasant half slumber, savoring the slow start of a quiet day.

It was late when we finally got out of bed, but then we weren't planning to go anywhere. I missed the fun of getting dressed with Stephanie. We had been too tired to bring in the bags last night and since rest of my clothes were all over in the cottage I had to make my way across in a nightgown in order to get dressed. As much for practice as anything else, I did my makeup even though we weren't planning to leave the house.

The order of the day was casual and, since the weather had perversely warmed up as soon as we declared our vacation over, I chose an oversize white T-shirt with flowers and vines embroidered along the neckline, white cotton skirt and sandals. They showed off my toes, which I had painted to match my manicured fingernails. (Twice — the first try didn't come out so good.) When I got back to the main house, Kate was dressed much the same, except that her T-shirt was red and she filled it out far more than I did.

Last night it had seemed simple enough to say we would move in together, but today we had to turn that rosy promise into reality. There were details, lots of them. Where would we put my dresser? Move her computer from the bedroom into one of the spare rooms along with mine and make an office. Was my bed or her bed more comfortable, or should we should get a king size set? Then there was closet space. I was just beginning to realize that Kate's wardrobe would continue to grow because it was so much fun to buy that pretty new blouse or skirt. That led to the diversion of going through all Stephanie's things and deciding what she didn't need any more. Which led to a fashion show to solicit my opinion of this top or that pair of slacks. Stephanie had just wiggled out of a dress we had decided should join the growing pile of contributions to the Volunteers of America when the doorbell rang.

"Get that, will you, Kate?" she asked. "I'm hardly decent."

"Works for me, love, but I'll go see who's there."

I threaded my way past the sorted piles of clothes and went to the door. I was so comfortable in my role as Kate, I didn't even give what I was doing a second thought. That lasted until I saw Hilda at the door. That's when I remembered the 'going to have to tell Mother' part of 'moving in together. A stranger would have been one thing, I had been among strangers the last two days and was confident I could fool most strangers, but Hilda knew Steve.

What was I going to do? Why hadn't we planned this part of things before we sorted clothes or other minor details? Nothing to do but brazen it out; so I opened the door.

"Good morning. You must be Stephanie's Mom." Safe enough greeting, one look at the two of them and there wasn't any doubt. "Come in. I'm Kate, by the way. I've been helping Steph do some spring cleaning."

"I must have the wrong house. My daughter is incapable of Spring Cleaning. I'm Hilda." She held out her hand and I took it, careful not to press as hard as Steve would have done.

"We're in the bedroom sorting clothes," I replied, then raised my voice. "Hey Steph! Your mother's here!" Damn! It's hard to keep the voice when you're shouting!

A few seconds later, she came out of the bedroom in T-shirt and panties. Nobody here but us girls!

"Hi Mom. Have you met my girlfriend Kate?" Was there a quaver in her voice, a strain visible on her face? You bet!

"We've been introduced. Are you really doing spring cleaning?"

"Well, I'm clearing out the closet. There's stuff in there that's ten years old and I'm never going to wear again. Want to have a garage sale?"

"Not on your life! You figure out what to do with it, it's your problem!"

"Mom hates garage sales, Kate. It's one of her little eccentricities. What's up, Mom?"
0
"Not much. Since you haven't answered your house phone or your cell in days I came out to see of you were still living here or if you had gone off to California again."

"Please! Kate and I were in Corning, being tourists."

"And you didn't tell your mother where you were going?"

"Not since I went to California. We were just having a great time being giggling girlfriends and seeing the sights. We'll invite you next time if you are interested."

"I just might take you up on that."

"Mom! You wouldn't believe what they did with the telescope glass!"

With that they were off and running, Hilda and Stephanie reminiscing about her childhood, the family and all the home canning they had done, a pleasant conversation that I eavesdropped on while carefully maintaining a proper distance from my newfound love. The conversation came to a stopping point and Hilda asked, "Well, children, are you going to let me in on what's going on, or do I have to pretend I haven't noticed Stephen has changed sex since the last time I saw him?"

"I suppose it would be simpler if you did, Mom, but I don't think you could do it."

"Not that you aren't convincing, uh, Kate, but I could hardly miss the resemblance to Stephen. There aren't that many redheads around here, you know."

"It's a long story, Hilda," I stammered; at the same time Stephanie said, "It's not as bad as it looks, Mom!"

"One at a time, children," she insisted. "I take it you finally gave him the bra and panties he was waiting for the last time I saw him."

"That was only a joke. Well, it was at the time...."

"Perhaps you had better start at the beginning, it might make more sense."

We tried to tell the story in a way that made sense, but it wasn't so easy, since we didn't really understand just what was going on ourselves. I could tell from her expression Hilda was going to be a hard sell. The woman had grown up on a farm in what was then a small town. The area was still overwhelmingly Republican outside the precincts of the college. When Hilda was young, the modern, huge State School had just been created from a small Normal School for teachers; the rest of the area had to have been unrelentingly agricultural and conservative.

Hilda was clearly a resilient woman, coping with her daughter's divorce, the abduction of her grandchildren and her husband's early death. Her conservative foundations had been shaken by the Nixon scandals and Stephanie had told me that when the Iraq War started she was so disgusted she quit the Republican Party and registered as independent. She couldn't quite bring herself to register Democratic.

So, like most of the rest of us, she was caught between black and white, floundering uncomfortably in the vast sea of grayness that was modern politics and morality. But no matter how much you might adapt to the changing culture you live in, you go back to your childhood training when confronted with a moral dilemma. Crossdressing was not something that fit well with Hilda's upbringing.

I tried to be honest about why I liked being Kate without putting too much emphasis on just how good the clothes felt for me and Stephanie tried to explain the closeness we had developed as girlfriends. We tried our best, but Hilda clearly wasn't happy by the time we got to the end of the story. The only good part was that she didn't even raise an eyebrow when we got to the part about living together.

"I just don't know what to think, Stephanie. I thought you had finally gotten your life under control after all these years, but you've managed to be a trial to your poor old mother once again. I love you, Stephanie, but I don't really approve of this whole thing."

Stephanie was about to answer, but Hilda shushed her and continued.

"But what I have learned, painfully, is that you are a grown woman and will do what you want to do, no matter what your crotchety old mother has to say. If the circumstances were different, I think I might even approve of Kate, but right now I just don't know. So I'm going to go home now and have a nice cup of tea and have a good cry. When that's done I'll feel better and we can talk tomorrow."

She arose and kissed Stephanie. To my utter amazement, she kissed me and took her leave.

I don't think any of us slept too well that night.

---

The next morning I hesitated before putting on my bra in the morning, an action that had become almost second nature. Was it worth it? Should I let Steve come back until we came to some resolution about Hilda? I almost went over to the cottage for Steve's clothes.

"What's the matter, Kate?"

"Your mother." I explained my hesitation. "I don't want to hurt her or change how she feels about you."

"That's what I like about you, you always think of what other people are feeling. I wish Mother had taken it better, but it's not like this is the first time I've upset her. We'll work it out."

"I hope so. I hate to be on the wrong side of your family. I never liked mother-in-law stories very much."

We tried to finish the clothes sorting that morning, but our hearts weren't in it. The confrontation with Hilda was still too fresh, too painful. Around noon we played the game of seeing who got hungry enough to make lunch first, since neither one of us felt like doing it. Stephanie won; even feeling lousy, I got hungry first.

We finally sorted the clothes and bagged up the donations, then went over to the cottage and repeated the procedure. I had laughed at Steph when she wanted to keep things she no longer wore because of sentimental attachments, but I was almost as bad. By the time we were done, I was glad I had a pickup truck; we'd need it to take all the stuff to the VOA.

We collected all of Kate's clothes and carried them across in laundry baskets. I didn't come right out and ask Steph what she was thinking, but I had this feeling of invading her space as I hung my clothes in her closet. When we carried one of my dressers over (that must have been a sight!) and put it in her bedroom, it hit me just how much my life had changed in such a short time.

Commitment! Jokes about guys and commitment abound, some of them are even funny. I had never found anyone who sparked the need for a long-term commitment, but I wasn't a fanatical bachelor either. The irony did not escape me that I had to become Kate before I found the real desire to commit myself to another person.

When we had finally loaded all the drawers, the bed looked awfully inviting. We lay together on the bed, feeling too enervated to do anything else. Eventually our lassitude diminished and our hands started roaming over each other. I had managed to work my way under her T-shirt to unhook her bra and was playing with her nipple through the silky fabric when the doorbell rang.

"Damn!" was all she could say. I echoed her sentiments heartily.

Was it Hilda? I could see by Stephanie's look we had the same thought.

"You know? I'm starting to feel like the maid around here. Every time that doorbell rings. I'm the only one dressed to answer it," I grumped. "If it's your mother, then so be it."

"Thanks, Kate." She was scrambling to buckle herself together.

The inside door was open and through the screen I saw two people at the door. With one glance I realized that the woman must be Stephanie's sister Lucy, the resemblance was unmistakable. Was the man her husband or Steph's brother? I suppose I would find out in a minute. I opened the door.

"Come in, I'm Stephanie's friend Kate; she'll be here in a minute."

I now know what a bug on a glass slide feels like under the microscope. They studied me as intently as any lab tech looking for what was making someone sick. OK, it really wasn't as obvious as that, but I was feeling a little vulnerable.

"I'm Lucy, Stephanie's sister and this is my husband, Bernie. May we come in?"

"Certainly, let me get Stephanie. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable."

"After talking to Mom, that would be quite a trick. Tell Steph I left Mrs. Fishkettle home."

I wasn't about to ask. There had to be a story behind that name and I knew that it was one that I would hear whether I wanted to or not. That's just human nature. I opened the bedroom door and saw Stephanie sitting stiffly on the bed.

"Relax, it's not you mother. It's not Mrs. Fishkettle either, whoever she is."

"Lucy!" She jumped up, actually looking happy for the first time today. "Come and meet her, Kate. You'll love her."

Bernie and I exchanged smiles as Stephanie and Lucy hugged each other enthusiastically, ignoring us completely. Then it was Bernie's turn to be overwhelmed. To my surprise, Lucy came over and gave me a warm hug while her husband was being soundly squeezed.

"So you're the infamous Kate who has mother so befuddled. You look good, girl. My sister always had better taste in women than she did in men." She let go of my shoulders.

"Hey — my turn." Bernie gave me a completely unselfconscious hug, leaving me stunned. Sure, I've hugged men before as Stephen, but this was the kind of hug a man gives a woman, not the perfunctory man hugs that are socially acceptable.

"I like your girlfriend, Steph," Bernie announced. "Now the family will have something better to talk about than the Jew that married into the clan. Good going!" No doubt of where Bernie grew up, the Brooklyn accent was unmistakable.

"Bernie!" That was both Steph and Lucy, sounding like an echo chamber.

"It's true and you know it, Lucy. I was the scandal of the family when you married me. Some of your uncles were worried I'd try and perform a bris on them then and there. Come to think of it, they might have similar plans for Kate here and they wouldn't bother to find a Rabbi."

"Bernie!" The echo chamber was back and I was laughing my ass off. I was sure that Bernie and I were going to get along.

"They'd have a fight on their hands if they did, Bernie. I like things just the way they are, thank you."

"Do you now? Then let's sit down and tell me all about it. Momma Hilda was a mite distraught when she called."

"Not until after supper, Bernie," Stephanie said. "Kate and I were just thinking about what to make. Will you join us?"

"Have I ever refused a meal?"

"That was a polite, rhetorical question, Bernie." She smiled sweetly. "If you need to know what a rhetorical question is, Kate is an English Professor and can explain it to you in words small enough for you to understand."

"And I love you, too, Stephanie. We'll just let you two girls cook while I talk to Kate here."

He took me by the arm and led me to the dining room, leaving the sisters behind.

"Steph doesn't have any arsenic or rat poison around, does she? The girl's impetuous sometimes." He was grinning from ear to ear. "Too bad some of the other relatives aren't more like Steph, she can take a joke. For that matter she can take my Uncle Shimon's awful jokes, so I can get out of the line of fire. "

"I suppose every family has relatives who you'd rather disown; my Uncle Shimon comes to mind with all his bad jokes and long stories. Then there's Uncle Hymie, I think he's single-handedly behind all the cheap Jew jokes you've ever heard. Can't even say he has a heart of gold, he's too cheap. It's brass plated, just like other parts of his anatomy."

"Give me a break, Bernie! Don't tell me I'm going to have to learn TWO family trees? I'm just Steph's girlfriend, we aren't getting married or anything."

"I guess the whole question of 'girlfriend' cuts to the heart of the matter, doesn't it?"

"I guess I'm a lot like your Uncle Hymie. Mine have to be brass plated to pull off being Kate."

"Not removed entirely? Sorry to be so blunt, but sometimes it's not so good to dance around the questions."

"Better you should be asking than taking up surgery for yourself." Damn, I was falling into the accent! "The answer is that I'm a garden variety crossdresser; I'm not interested in any additions or subtractions between my legs or anywhere else. I still enjoy being Steve, but Kate has become a real part of me. I don't think I can explain it to myself, let alone to you, but that's the way it is."

"Well, you do a damn good job of it. If Mamma Hilda hadn't let the cat out of the bag, I don't know if I would have figured it out for myself, at least not without being around you for a while."

"It's taken a lot of work to get here, even with Stephanie helping me."

"Az di bobe volt gehat beytsim volt zi geven mayn zeyde! That means 'If my grandmother had testicles, she would be my grandfather'."

"Maybe there's a Jew or two in my family tree that I don't know about. Good thing we aren't in the market for kids together."

"So she likes you this way?"

"She likes me this way. Really. Maybe this better wait until after supper, so we can talk to both of you and not do everything twice?"

"So how 'bout them Mets?" he changed the subject. A fat lot of good it did him.

"I hate to break it to you, but I couldn't care less."

"Oy gevalt! And I was beginning to like you!"

"We could talk gardening."

"Lucy!" he roared. "Is dinner ready yet? This lunatic wants to tell me about her garden! Save me!"

"If you're in such a hurry, get your ass in the kitchen and help!" came the reply.

"I won't hold it against you, if you're the only man in the kitchen. Can you cook?"

"Lucy and I are caterers, Kate. Didn't Stephanie tell you?

"I didn't know. I did a lot of bartending when I was in college, I know caterers have to work their asses off to make good. That must mean today's your weekend."

"Right the first time. Nobody has a big do in the middle of the week if they can help it. Let's go see what we can do."

---

With the four of us working, dinner appeared remarkably fast. The old farmhouse kitchen was big enough for all of us, even if we did occasionally bump into each other. As the least sophisticated of the crew, I was assigned the salad chopping while Bernie and Steph did something with quickly thawed chicken breasts and Lucy made magic with pasta. It seems that Steph was an occasional helper in the catering biz whenever they had something unusually big going on.

Lucy and Steph kept up a running banter, clearly honed by years of sisterly rivalry, with Bernie tossing in an occasional zinger. I held my own in the verbal jousting with Bernie feeding me some irresistible straight lines. Was this what it was like to have brothers and sisters? Being an only child made me wonder.

With dinner a pleasant memory, Steph and I explained as much as we could about Kate once again. It was easier this time; the audience was a lot more receptive and we had it a little more coherently in our own minds after trying to tell Hilda yesterday. Steph surprised me by including the part about jumping my bones; I guess there are things sisters can share that you don't tell your mother. Bernie looked embarrassed and I expect I wasn't far behind him.

"I guess if it works for you then it's fine with me." Lucy delivered her verdict. "Hey — you got a bra for Bernie? Maybe it would make him easier to live with."

"Yeah, Bernie!" Stephanie offered, "We might even civilize you enough for polite society after a few years. Bernice has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? You'd look cute in a white lace apron serving at the buffet."

"Ladies, ladies! Please!" I butted in. "I've just met your mother. Don't start anything that makes me attend her funeral before I get to know her."

"Oh, Kate, you take all the fun out of life," laughed Lucy. "I guess I'll have to live with him as he is."

Bernie looked relieved.

"Well, he could still wear panties and no one would know but you, Lucy. Might take some of the rough edges off," I suggested.

"Thanks, 'girlfriend.' I'll do you a favor some day, too."

"So, what do we do with Mother, sis? Looks like Kate is here to stay."

"Well, she moved in with me this afternoon. She's here to stay!"

"That serious, eh?" Lucy's left eyebrow rose.

"No, she's a hell of a lot of fun, or we wouldn't be living together. Not much we can do but wait Mother out, I guess."

"But what about the Pie Festival?"

"She'll have to tough it out. Kate lives here and I'm not going to ask her to leave," declared Stephanie.

"Now Steph if..." I tried to say.

"This is family business, Kate. Unless you want to marry me, butt out!"

"Well, if that's what it takes..." That stopped her in mid rant.

"What?"

"Will you marry me, Stephanie? I mean as Steve, but I'll throw Kate in for free."

"I... I...." She seemed to be stuck.

"As Uncle Hymie would say," Bernie threw in, 'you shouldn't turn down a bargain when it's a two-for-one offer'."

"Shut up, Bernie. This is Stephanie's choice." Lucy gave him a slap on the wrist.

"When?"

"Whenever you want. This fall, when Kate goes into hibernation. We don't want to confuse things too much."

"I... I wasn't expecting...."

"Neither was I, but I did it anyway. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, you crazy, insane person."

"That will teach Mother to call me to try to talk some sense into you, sis. She isn't going to believe this!"

"You are NOT going to tell her! We have to get through the rest of the semester with Steve going to work as usual and then Kate and I have our summer planned together. I am not going to have her pestering me to set a date so she can start planning the wedding; I had enough of that the first time around. You breathe a word and I'll sic Mrs. Fishkettle on you. Believe it!"

"Mrs. Fishkettle?" I had to ask.

"Our Sunday School teacher from the seventh grade. She was an old witch who was convinced all of us were just slavering to commit 'sins of the flesh' and spent a LOT of time preaching against it. She was probably right, but we both hated that class. We elected her boogie-woman for anything we didn't like, the old harridan."

Lucy giggled. "HE!", she pointed at Bernie, "doesn't believe me. She was mean enough to come back from the grave. I promise on old Mrs. Fishkettle's Bible to keep my mouth shut. That includes you, too, Bernie!"

"Yes'm. Red-hot pokers under my fingernails connected to a million volts couldn't get it out of me. Rabid wild horses doped with steroids couldn't drag it out of me. Vicious... Ouch!"

"Shut up, Bernie, or you WILL be wearing that bra. Look what a nice person Kate has become since she started wearing one."

"OK, OK. Mazel Tov to the both of you!" I think that's what he said; I was busy getting kissed at the time.

Something magical happened that night; I became part of a family. The only child, the lifelong loner finally knew what it was like to have sisters and brothers. Bernie and Lucy took me into the family and made me feel at home. I heard stories of the pranks Stephanie and Lucy pulled, tales of Bernie's multitudinous uncles and learned what life was like growing up on the farm. Without really realizing it they drew stories out of me and I was happy to tell them about my life.

"Do you mind if I ask if you were ever in theatre?" asked Lucy. "I keep forgetting Kate is someone you and Steph have created. How do you make Kate so real?"

"I think that's because Kate is a part of me that is real; I just didn't know about her. I was on the tech crew in high school, doing lighting and sets and such; but I wasn't on stage. Well, I was once. The next act in the Senior Show was late and we were stalling for time. So my buddy Gerry grabbed a gray wig from the prop room, made a quick sign and hung it over my neck. It said 'Ye Olde Lamp Lighter' in Old English lettering. We knew that the center-right set of footlights made an amazing groan when you cranked them into position, so I went out there and cranked it back and forth until she showed up.

"I had about worked the joke to death when I heard the curtains open behind me, so I got up and looked. There was Sue Travis in a Playboy Bunny costume and I about swallowed my teeth. I hammed it up, whistled and grabbed my heart and flopped around like a fish, then crawled off the stage. That was my entire theatrical career.

"The Assistant Principal about had a hemorrhage over her costume. It was shortly after one of his periodic campaigns for strict enforcement of the dress code had started and he was livid. She had the body for it and she left the costume on for the party in the cafeteria after the show."

"That seems almost quaint these days," Stephanie said. "You should see what the kids wear to school now. Your Assistant Principal wouldn't believe it. I even get it in second grade. A couple of years ago, I had an incident that still makes me laugh."

"Shortly after the semester started, I had a new little girl in my class. She was awful cute, but every time I knelt down on the floor with them she would come over and wiggle her butt in front of me. I didn't know what to do about it. I talked to the school psychologist and he observed the class for a while, but he couldn't figure out why either. Finally we called the girl's mother in for a conference and told her what was happening. We were so worried the kid had some major psychological problem.

"The kid's mom just started laughing. Her daughter was trying to show me the label on her designer jeans — in second grade!"

That's how the evening went in the bosom of my new family. I can't tell you how good it felt!

---

The next few days were relatively quiet. We were getting used to being a couple. (A couple of whats was Bernie's question.) We shopped — for groceries this time - but instead of turning around for home I went the other way. I just smiled and looked mysteriously at her when she asked where we were going. I pulled into the parking lot of Charisma Jewelers, one of the few local business that hadn't been driven out by the chains. Since we were engaged, we needed a ring, but I had wanted to surprise Stephanie.

"Kate, is this what I think it is?"

Pretty hard to fool the woman.

"Only if you are thinking that the salesman will be mightily amused by a lesbian buying her lover an engagement ring. I'll give you odds he tries to sell both of us."

"You're insane."

"I prefer 'romantic'. Gonna take the bet?"

"Not a chance. If I get a ring, then you get one, too."

"Like I said, romantic. Shall we go in?"

"In a minute. Kate, please don't take offence, but I don't want a diamond."

"You're going to be the one to wear it, I want whatever makes you happy. Can I ask why?"

"Three reasons. First, I love emeralds. Second, Faruq gave me a diamond big enough to put your eye out when he proposed and look how that turned out."

She was silent for a while. I suppose the second spouse can't help but be compared to the first. To my satisfaction, it didn't bother me in the slightest.

"You're going to think this is silly."

"As silly as me being Kate?"

"Worse. Once you put that ring on my hand, I'm not going to take it off. I don't want to have to explain a diamond ring to the entire family at the Pie Festival, but I am going to wear your ring come hell or high water."

"Then we had better not get matching rings. That would be almost as obvious as a diamond. I'm glad you like emeralds, it will work with my carrot top."

"See, you're getting pretty good at matching colors. Let's go in and see what they have, girlfriend."

---

"Good afternoon, ladies. How can I help you?"

Would the fact that it was a saleswoman have invalidated the bet?

"We're looking for engagement rings," I replied, "for both of us."

Might as well be direct and not pussyfoot around.

"That's lovely! I'm sure we can show you something you'll appreciate. Do you have a price range in mind?"

Pretty tactful, but I suppose that comes with the trade. Was there a momentary flash of disappointment when we asked for emeralds? Maybe, maybe not. She was a well informed and helpful salesperson and I found out I liked shopping for jewelry almost as much as I liked shopping for clothes.

I was a little disappointed that we would have to wait for the rings to be sized, but my hands are larger than the feminine norm; nothing fit from the case. We made do with a pair of emerald earrings for each of us. I pushed the schedule a bit and took out my starters. What better for my first earrings than a pair that was given with love?

They were gorgeous!

---

"Hello."

"Hello, Kate, It's Hilda." Well, she called me Kate, that's a start.

"It's good to hear your voice, Hilda. How are you doing?"

"I'm coping. Lord knows I've had plenty of practice. Is Stephanie there?"

"She's outside watering the marigolds. I can give her a call if you'll hold on a minute."

"Don't bother, you'll do. We need to talk. Am I welcome to come over?"

"Hilda, I don't have to talk to Steph to tell you that you are always welcome. This is your home, too."

"Even after what I said the other night?"

"Please, you were simply being honest. Neither Stephanie nor I was trying to hide anything from you. When you came over, we simply couldn't find a way to break it to you. I know it had to be a shock to realize who I was; I never intended to do that to you. I'm truly sorry for the pain I've caused you. I hope you can believe that."

"I know that, Kate. Forgive an old woman for being so crotchety. It was a shock and I just didn't know what to do."

"I know. Hilda, if it would make you feel better, I'll change back to Stephen before you get here. I don't want to offend you."

"That's kind of you, Kate, but if that's the way you and Stephanie have chosen to live, I suppose I had better get used to it."

"That's very kind as well, Hilda. The offer is open at any time, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, my. I can see why Lucy kept talking like you were her best friend. You seem to have won the hearts of my daughter and her husband."

"I'm flattered, your children are some of the nicest people I've ever met. I'm looking forward to meeting Tom someday."

"Well, it certainly will make for an interesting evening."

"Hilda, I hope that my presence won't cause anything untoward to happen. I intend to be very low key and well in the background."

"And let the gossips make what they will of you living with my daughter?"

"Hilda, you should have been a detective, that was a truly smooth bit of questioning. The official story is I am renting the cottage. It has the advantage of being true, but I won't lie to you. Stephanie and I are in love and living together. Am I still in your good graces?"

"Can I invoke the fifth?"

"Depends on what you do first. Please, come over for dinner and we can talk."

"That's the reason I called. What should I bring?"

"Yourself, everything's under control at our end."

"Hrumpf. I sincerely hope it is, Kate. I'll be over in an hour or so."

"I'm looking forward to it."

I don't think I was lying to be polite — at least not much.

---

"Hey Steph!" I called. "Guess who's coming to dinner?"

"Sidney Poitier? No, Spencer Tracey would be more appropriate."

"That's the other Kate."

"There's only one Kate for me."

"Flatterer. Your mother is coming over for dinner."

"Breathing fire?"

"A puff of smoke may escape at times, but she didn't seem ready to incinerate me."

"'Don't laugh at live dragons,' darling. That's a line from a musical I was in during high school. Mother didn't approve of the play, as you might have guessed. It was full of beatniks and free lovers and other scandalous characters. I got to fling rose petals as I crossed the stage."

"No crossdressers?"

"Not an issue back then. I suppose if the play were revived they'd throw in a crossdresser or two for effect."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of tossing crossdressers. Landing could hurt."

"Better wear your padded panties, then."

"Speaking of such, what should I wear for dinner?"

"What would you do if you were being Steve and someone came over unexpectedly?"

"I suppose I wouldn't do much of anything."

"Then there's your answer. Kate should behave like a normal woman should and just be herself."

"That's easy for you to say, I don't want to upset your mother."

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?"

"I don't want to upset her further. Sheesh — I thought my students could be picky about language; I'm glad I don't have to have you in my class."

"Then stop giving me those straight lines! You're making it hard to resist."

"So don't resist!" Kissing is a good way to stop an absurd conversation.

---

So all right, I was nervous. I tried to calm my nerves by attacking vegetables in the kitchen, but that just made me worry about what Hilda would think of dinner. I agonized right up to the time the doorbell rang, then tried to convince Steph she should answer it. It didn't work.

"I'm up to my elbows in chicken parts, Kate. You have to face her sometime. Think of how much easier it will be when you tell her we're getting married, once you've had all this practice."

"Where's the back door. I'm not ready for this."

"Should have thought of this before you proposed to me. Don't leave Mother standing at the door, darling."

"Don't worry about me, Kate, I let myself in. Who's proposed to you, Stephanie?"

"I was proposing we get a vicious guard dog to keep intruders out of the house, wasn't I, Kate?"

"I thought we were going to get a bottomless pit installed in the vestibule."

"With a pit bull to guard it. See — it all works out."

"Your humor is the pits, daughter, but don't try to change the subject. I distinctly heard you say something about being proposed to. Are you trying to hide something from your poor old mother?"

"You're not poor and you're not old, Mother."

"And you're not answering, daughter."

"You noticed. See, you're aware of your surroundings and don't have to worry about confusion in your old age."

"Stephanie!" Hilda's tone was pure exasperated mother setting her child straight.

"Oh, all right. Stephen and Kate and I are engaged, but we're not announcing it until the fall when Stephen officially comes back from vacation. That means my prying mother will have to keep her mouth shut, or I'll disown her. We do not intend to play quick change games when someone wants to congratulate us over the summer."

"Well, I never...." Hilda was speechless.

"Set this deep in your memory, Kate. You won't see my mother like this very often. See what you get for pushing, Mom?"

"Hilda, we didn't want it to be like this, really we didn't," I apologized.

"I suppose I should be glad you're really a man, so we wouldn't have to figure out how to do a gay wedding," Hilda sighed. "This is getting awfully complicated."

"Lesbian, mother. Men are gay and women are lesbian. Don't ask me why, but that's what the memos at work tell us so we can be politically sensitive."

"Politics be damned! Why do you have to make getting married so complicated all the time? I remember the first time when...."

"Mother! I was there and you don't have to go into detail. When Stephen and I get married, it will be a simple ceremony and no one is going to know that Kate has anything to do with it."

"Hey!" I responded. "I wanted to wear a wedding dress, too." I know I shouldn't have done it, but the look on Hilda's face was worth it.

"Well, if that's what you want, darling, you can let mother drive you crazy with all the wedding details. I'll just rent a tux and keep out of it! Being a bride is a lot of work, maybe I'll enjoy being the groom a lot more this time around."

"Will Bernie be my Matron of Honor, do you think? You know what he said about wearing a bra the other night." I knew, but Hilda didn't and I wasn't about to disabuse her of her assumptions. I knew we were going to pay for this, but Stephanie and I were having too much fun with Hilda, who was somewhere between scandalized and helpless laughter.

"You'll have to ask, but I'm sure Lucy would be my Best Man."

"Will you two stop this nonsense right now!" demanded Hilda.

"Nonsense?" cried Stephanie. "I never thought the day would come when you wouldn't want to help plan a wedding. I'm shocked."

"I surrender!" she cried, pulling a white hankie from her purse and waving it frantically. "You win, I can't take any more!"

"Remember that the next time you eavesdrop on a conversation, Mother." Steph was still giggling.

"You'll be the death of me yet, child. Let me get used to having you live with a man who wants to be a woman before you hit me with marriage."

"We tried, mother. Kate and I are going to spend the summer traveling, not planning a wedding. We haven't even set a date yet, so we didn't want to cause you any more confusion than we already had."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, but then I never understood brain surgery either. I'll just accept that it is possible and not worry about the details. If this is the way you want to live your life and if Stephanie is content with it, then I will accept that. You seem like a nice person and I'll leave it at that."

"Thank you, Hilda. I don't want to have my mother-in-law upset with me; family is too important. We did a pretty lousy job of breaking the news to you, I know, but things just got out of hand."

"Don't they always? Now, what can I do to help with dinner?"

"Start the grill, the chicken is ready to put on."

---

It startled me when the phone rang. That didn't happen too often; for some perverse reason, everyone who wanted to talk to Stephanie called when we were out; the voice mail always had something in it when we got back. A new corollary to Murphy's Law in the cell phone age?

"Hello, Petrillo residence," I answered.

"My, aren't we formal today. Is that you, Steph?"

"No, this is her friend, Kate. Stephanie is out in the barn at the moment. Can I take a message? Or is it urgent enough to track her down?"

"No, nothing urgent. This is her brother Tom. Just let her know I'm coming out to see you both tonight. She doesn't have to bother dusting; I can take her usual housekeeping."

"I take it there's a family joke in there somewhere. We're expecting Lucy and Bernie for dinner tonight. We'll hold it until you arrive."

"That would be great. It will be nice to meet you, Lucy has told me all about you."

"And you still want to meet me? She obviously didn't tell you everything."

"Every family has its secrets. My sweet, less-than-innocent baby sister has a few of her own that would amaze you."

"Care to let me know a couple? I can always use some juicy gossip!"

"My impression was that you are the juicy gossip. I'm looking forward to meeting you."

"I have many talents, that's why your sister puts up with me. The Petrillo family has certainly been worth meeting and I'm glad to have the chance to complete the set."

"Sounds more like tennis, or maybe badminton. Just remember what the birdie goes through. Our family can be a bit daunting."

"So I've learned. I can't wait to meet your part of it."

"Kate, despite the gossip I think I'm going to enjoy meeting you. I'm afraid my wife will not hold the same opinion."

"Tom, I will do my best to present myself as a proper woman. I can only hope your wife will be willing to accept me for what I am. I try to live up to your best expectations."

"Don't make promises before you know what my expectations are."

"I shall hold myself firmly in check until you arrive."

"Don't hurt yourself. We'll be there about seven tonight."

He hung up and I stared at the phone. This was getting more and more complicated. We had certainly been naive to think living together as girlfriends could be our little secret. Crossdressing paramour or lesbian lover, which was the more interesting? Then the supposedly secret engagement. Yes, this is going to be interesting.

---

"This is going to be interesting!" said Stephanie when I passed on the message. Great minds think alike.

"That's one word for it. Maybe we should just put an announcement in the paper and have done with it."

"I think that's a little overzealous, don't you?"

"Perhaps, but did you expect any of this when you gave me your undies that day?"

"Talk about a joke that got out of hand! How is it I always fall in love with men who are not what they seem?"

"Is that any worse than falling in love with your landlady?"

"Not as long as you keep paying the rent. Love won't pay the bills, you know."

"I might have guessed. Niagara Mohawk won't take an IOU with a bunch of cute little hearts on the bottom?"

"Not even if you offered them your cute little bottom. Cash on the barrelhead, buster."

"'I Married a Mercenary' sounds like a good book title."

"How about 'ManBeth', the adventures of a Scottish transsexual 'not of woman born'?"

"Well, we could try 'Mary Potter and the Chamber of Lingerie'?"

"We could try getting back to the subject of the conversation. We're going to have to tell Tom."

"He said on the phone that 'Lucy had told him all about me'. I assume that means he already knows."

"I'm more worried about telling their kids. Tom will be able to handle it, but Deb is another story. She's not going to be happy."

"So, no necking in front of the nephews, eh?"

"Not even uncles, aunts and cousins, girlfriend."

"Right. No PDA, as it is so succinctly referred to in my high school rule book. We had probably better call Lucy and Bernie and talk to them about what they want their kids to know about us."

"Too late, they already know the straight story. Ben's too young to care, but Karen's probably going to pester you to death. She's a very curious girl."

"This ought to be interesting." I was repeating myself, but I've said that before.

"We keep saying that, don't we?"

"So what about the other kids, or do we just lock Lucy and Ben in a room with your brother and let them do it for us?"

"Coward. Good thing Lucy's kids will be here, that way they can spirit off Tom's kids and we can bare our souls once again."

"Sounds like a plan. If we have to do this much more, we should make a home video and hand it out as people come in the door. It might be easier."

"Let's try to keep this in the family, OK? You have to go back to being Steve on Monday and we don't want to have a video laying around for anyone to find."

"Considering how all this started, we could call it 'The Secret Garden' if we did."

"Appropriate, but it's been done."

Kate, Part 3 Tales of Family and Femininity By Ricky

Chapter 3

So I once again had a case of the nerves to cope with, this meeting the family stuff just seemed to keep going and going and going. After months of practice, the last week had shown me that Kate was more than a whim. Comfortable, that was the word. I truly felt comfortable as Kate. Even bundled in a winter coat so my figure (or lack of one) was hidden, wearing a bra was comfortable. Granted it was uncomfortable for the first few minutes after inserting my forms in the morning, but they soon warmed. I must admit that I fantasized about how nice it would be to have real breasts during those chilly minutes, but I simply loved the feel of a bra around my chest.

With company coming I shaved again. I've shaved more times this week than I have in the last month. I was definitely going to look into electrolysis. Even as Steve I didn't want my beard showing. If I was going to be Kate the fuzz had to go!

When we had bought my new wardrobe, we had gotten several pairs of slacks, but I seldom wore them away from the house. I know it made me a bit unusual, but I had fallen in love with skirts. When there was work to be done around the house or in the yard, I was practical and wore slacks, but if there wasn't I put on a skirt or a dress. I noticed that Steph had started to wear skirts more often as well; I seemed to have awakened her interest in the feminine along with my own. There's a wonderful freedom in having a skirt brushing your bare legs that just doesn't happen in shorts.

Which brings me back to dressing for dinner with the family. I wanted to agonize for what I was going to wear, but Steph wouldn't put up with it.

"Let's go all out and wear those matching outfits you bought the night I seduced you. They'll go nicely with our engagement rings."

"So the plan is to just beat them over the head with it and cart the bodies off before they revive?"

"Too much trouble. We'll leave them on the sofa until they can go upstairs under their own power and be properly scandalized with each other. Shall we serve breakfast in our nightgowns and really rub it in?

"Not in the nightgown you gave me, that's for private consumption only."

"Don't worry, I'll consume what you have to offer before I let you out of bed. Just don't wake up the kids when you come."

"No problem, I'll just make sure I have my mouth full of you when it happens. It should muffle the noise."

"I like the way you think, you have a solution for every problem."

"Not every problem, not by a long shot. I'm sure that the next few days will present me with a few we haven't thought of."

"Now see how kind I am to have removed one of your problems and told you what to wear? Could you help me with some makeup tonight?"

"Lose a problem, gain a problem. Sure I'll help, but I'm still learning."

"You know more than I do, anyway. Deb is one of those women who never leave the house without a perfect makeup job. She never really approved of me too much."

"Maybe I'll provide her with a distraction."

"I'm sure you will. Now get dressed, they'll be here in an hour."

So I went all out, shaving legs and face, padding, waist cincher (I couldn't resist it when I found it on the net, but it gets uncomfortable after a while.), the green leafy dress and full makeup. I was so used to doing my own face by then, it took some concentration to reverse things on Stephanie. She surprised me by having bought fresh makeup especially for the evening sometime when I wasn't looking.

The nervous part started once we were dressed and puttering around with the last minute things before our guests arrived. I jumped when the doorbell rang.

"Who gets it, you or me?" I asked.

"Let's face this together."

She was worried, but it turned out to be a false alarm. It was Lucy and Bernie, this time with their kids. I was introduced as Aunt Kate! That was a real kick.

"You ladies are both stunning!" exclaimed Bernie and proceeded to kiss us both. Karen, the fifteen year old, had a twinkle in her eye and was trying very hard to achieve a sophisticated, worldly demeanor in the face of her dad kissing a guy who was dressed as a girl. She didn't do too badly under the circumstances. I couldn't help noticing that her mother's genetics had passed to her, her breasts jutted prominently in front of her.

"Thank you, Bernie. You're looking pretty nice yourself."

"Karen, take note. That's how a proper lady reacts to a compliment, even when I'm wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I didn't realize it was a formal affair, or I would have put on the jeans without the holes in them."

"Bernie, you're a gentleman no matter what you're wearing," I told him.

"Can we go play in the barn, Pops?" Apparently the exchange of compliments was boring ten-year-old Ben.

"Sure, just be careful, kids." They were gone in a flash. "So, are we going to tell them before supper and ruin their appetites or wait 'till they've eaten and give them indigestion?"

"Bernie!" There was that echo effect again. I wondered how Tom managed to cope with two sisters so perfectly in tune?

"I thought we'd just put 'Tootsie' on the DVD player and I'd start kissing Steph at the right spot and see if they can figure it out for themselves."

"Katherine!"

Oh-oh. Katherine, was it?

"We will tell my brother and his wife in a dignified and refined manor. You can kiss me like that when you take me to bed."

"See you folks!" I took Steph's hand and was pulled up short.

"Behave yourself!"

"Do you hear an echo in here, Bernie? Must be something to do with this old house."

"Reminds me of when we were kids, they did that to me all the time. I had to marry one of them to keep them apart and get a little peace."

"Bernie!" They were a little out of sync this time; laughing does that to your timing.

"Come in and sit down. Have something to drink. Dinner is all taken care of, so all we have to do is wait for everybody to arrive."

So we talked a while and I almost forgot what we were waiting for. Bernie is a very funny guy and knows how to lighten up a mood. I didn't even jump when the doorbell rang.

"Come in, Hilda, you don't have to ring the bell. We've used up all our surprises," I greeted her.

"I should hope so. Tom's right behind me, Kate. I think I'm going to enjoy seeing someone else go through this."

"Mother Hilda, that sounds positively wicked."

"Doesn't it though?

So we went through the usual greeting ritual again, including Ben and Karen who had come in from the barn when they heard the car in the driveway. Steph had been right, Deb did have a perfect makeup job and I was glad we had opted to go all out ourselves. Deb gave me a weak squeeze on the hand as we were introduced and did the same for Stephanie. I began to wonder if there wasn't some kind of friction between her and Tom's wife. She hadn't told me much about her, even though I had heard stories of everyone else in the family by then.

"Stephanie! Is that an engagement ring?"

"Like it?" She held her hand up prettily. "It sure is!"

"Congratulations, sis!" her brother said. "When do we get to meet him?"

"That gets a little complicated, I'll fill you in after dinner. Everything's ready."

So, we were opting for indigestion. With a bit of shuffling and dancing we all ended up around the large table in the dining room as Stephanie and I brought out the dinner. While Tom and Deb seemed a bit reserved, it may have been only in comparison to the outgoing Lucy and Bernie. Funny how one family can produce such different personalities.

The kids took off for the barn immediately after dessert, leaving the adults to themselves, not to mention the dishes. Seven people did make the old farm kitchen a bit crowded, but we sure set a record in cleanup.

"Now why couldn't you children have done it like this when you were younger?" asked Hilda as she placed the dishtowel on the hanger.

"Because I knew if I did a lousy job on the dishes you'd get exasperated and do them for me, Mom." answered Tom.

"Was I that easy to get around?"

"Still are. OK, the dishes are done, I want to hear all about who Stephanie is marrying," he replied.

"Come on. Kate." Bernie put his arm around me and guided me into the living room. "I'm looking forward to the show!"

"Bernie, that's a strange comment even for you," exclaimed Deb. "All we want to know is what kind of man got Steph to say 'yes' after all these years."

"And therein lies the drama, my dear sister-in-law. Sit yourself down, you're going to need it."

As a professor of English, I think it would be best for the plot of this narrative to spare you further repetition of how we explained the situation; it didn't differ all that much from the first two times. Even with Bernie's sense of humor, the audience this time wasn't so receptive. Tom, who had Lucy's warning, seemed bemused but Deb was so pickle faced not even her perfect makeup could help.

The funny thing was, Hilda seemed to be enjoying the whole scene. My future in-laws grudgingly accepted my presence, but Deb had one more problem.

"Stephanie, I can't stop you from doing what you like, but I would prefer my children not be exposed to this."

At which Bernie started to laugh. "Deb, do you honestly think there's a chance either of them don't already know all the gory details and a few more our kids have invented? Unless I miss my guess, the first thing out of Karen's mouth was the complete story with all the bells and whistles. She takes her cultural diversity pretty seriously and hasn't quite left the black and white world of childhood. For that matter, she knew more about the difference between gender and sex than I did. If you're still confused, talk to her; she'll give you an earful."

"This kind of thing is not suitable for children, Bernie."

"Perhaps, but I think your offspring would be considered 'young adults' these days. You have to let go sometime or they'll leave you behind anyway. Next semester Julia starts college — she could easily end up in Professor Kate's class."

"Don't borrow trouble, Bernie. Is she going to Brockport?" I asked.

"You are a professor at Brockport?" Deb's tone dropped the spring chill several degrees.

"Yes, I am." The phrase 'being outed' suddenly had a new clarity to me. It had once seemed so simple to keep Kate and Steve in separate worlds.

"And they allow this kind of behavior in their staff?"

"I'm not sure 'allow' is the correct word, Deb. The college has a formal, written policy of tolerance for gay, lesbian and transgender people. They really do have a commitment to the diversity of humanity."

How far that commitment would go is something I didn't want to test. I had no plans to appear on campus as Kate, yet something in her voice made me want to stick out my tongue and scream "Nyah...Nyah...Nyah, you intolerant bitch!" Fortunately Kate was me and I was Kate and she would never do something as childish — in public.

"Darling, Academia is a very different place from the world we live in," temporized Tom.

"But our daughter...." She couldn't continue.

"Will find the same thing at any campus these days," Tom finished for her. "I can't say that I really approve, but we have to let her make her own decisions and hope we have shown her how to choose wisely. Compared to sex and drugs and alcohol, this seems to be less than an earthshaking problem."

"Thank you, Tom. I think. I'm flattered to come out ahead of the most common vices."

"I don't think there is anything common about you, Kate," Stephanie announced. "I wouldn't be marrying you otherwise."

"I suppose two brides would make the ceremony far from common, little sister. You are even crazier than I thought." Tom seemed to be having a hard time deciding whether to be amused or upset.

"Thomas, of course there won't be two brides, your mother wouldn't stand for it," Hilda butted in. "We've already started planning for the ceremony, haven't we, Kate? Since you've opted to wear the wedding gown, Stephanie is going to wear a tux.. Have you asked Bernie if he'll be your Matron of Honor yet?"

I was going to have to kill her. The situation was hilarious, if you had a warped sense of humor, but I was going to have to do something very drastic. Trouble was, I couldn't come up with anything dire enough on short notice. It had to be Jump On Tom night for Hilda to make such a suggestion.

"I'd be honored, Kate. Why should you be the only crazy one in the family? Can I borrow one of your bras, Lucy?"

I was going to have to line them up for execution.

"Silly, my bras won't fit you. I'm sure Kate buys her own bras, so you can do the same. I want to wear a tux, too! Can we wear crushed velvet, Steph? I always liked the way crushed velvet looks."

Now I was going to have to contract out the job. Three would be beyond my means.

"Thomas, I think it's time we go home," Deb demanded. "I don't see any point in continuing this discussion."

Whew, maybe I should hire Deb as executioner, she'd freeze them solid at twenty paces. Nice to keep these things in the family.

"Perhaps you're right, dear. We need time to think about all this."

---

Monday morning at 5AM I was awakened by a godawful racket. Logy from restless sleep I couldn't quite figure out what was happening.

Oh, it finally penetrated. An alarm clock.

Five AM? You've got to be kidding!

I felt Stephanie stir beside me and grope for the snooze button. Silence, blessed silence.

"What the hell was that for, darling?" I asked.

"I've got to get up."

"At five in the morning?"

"School starts at seven."

"Barbaric! Hasn't anyone at the school board read all the studies that say children's brains don't function until after 9AM?"

"Perhaps, but what would that matter? Their parents have to get to work so they have to get to school before they're awake."

"And I thought getting stuck with a eight o'clock class was disgusting."

"You college types are living in luxury and don't even know it."

Can I stay in bed? I have to be Steve today and don't have to worry about makeup."

"I'm not worrying about makeup either, girlfriend. Seven year olds don't give a hoot about how my face is painted. You can sleep in and I'll make my lonely breakfast all by myself."

"My heart bleeds for you."

"Something else might start bleeding if you aren't careful, girlfriend."

"OK, I'll get up."

"Good choice, Kate."

Actually, it felt just plain wrong to put on Steve's clothes that morning. One lousy week as Kate and I was ready to forget an entire lifetime as Steve. Was I crazy?

No, don't answer that question. I don't think I would like the answer any more than I liked reverting to Steve.

Actually, there was less of Steve than there had been before with the new curls on my head and the small gold studs in my ears. My reflection in the mirror revealed more than a little of Kate even if I was in Steve's clothes.

I had a couple of hours to kill after Stephanie left, my class was at a sane 10:00 AM. With time to kill, I thought I would check into renting a camper for the summer.

"Avarice, the spur of industry!" I muttered, thanking David Hume for his observations on human greed. Five hundred bucks a week to rent a trailer? That's more than a cheap motel and you don't have to put gas in a motel room!

We were going to have to rethink our summer plans. Was Stephanie all that set against a tent and sleeping bag?

I shut down the computer, but that only gave me time to get nervous about how my new style would be greeted on campus. Yes, I know I was far from the most outlandish figure to be found there, but those figures weren't me. Eventually I drove in and found my way to my classroom. I was at my desk going over the day's lesson plan when the students started to arrive.

"Hey, I like the look, Professor Tucker!"

"Good morning, Patty. Our glorious spring weather over the break inspired me to change my style."

Yeah, spring for polar bears! I never saw no polar bear with red curls."

"Could you be trying to say 'I have never seen a polar bear with red curls'?"

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"Unfortunately I do. Thank you, Patty. It was nice of you to notice."

"Don't take much to notice you, Prof!"

"Whatever!" I can speak the lingo if I want to.

I took some grief from my colleagues, but after a couple of days my more feminine presentation had become the new norm. Not that it wasn't mentioned now and again for the remaining eight weeks of the semester, but it was only in kidding, I don't think anyone realized how seriously I was wanting to live as Kate. I shuttled between Kate and Steve as the occasion demanded, but it did put a bit of a strain on me to switch personalities. Frankly by the time finals rolled around Steve and Kate had become far less separated than they were when Kate was first unleashed on the unsuspecting world.

Stephanie took my news about renting a camping trailer as a personal insult.

"Five hundred bucks a week? That's … (mumble, mumble)… Four thousand dollars for eight weeks! We could BUY a trailer for that!"

Oh-oh. What had I started?

"Get the paper, lover. We need to make our first major purchase together!"

So that's how we ended up driving around the county looking at used campers. Surprisingly, if we were willing to look at older models we could buy our very own home on wheels for about half the price of renting a new one.

Did we want to spend that much money? I was in the middle of electrolysis and that wasn't cheap. Then there was the wedding, also not cheap. So we talked about money, how we would pay the bills, should we have a joint account, all those questions you have to resolve when you get married. Figuring we could get several years of use from the camper it looked like a good investment. If we were able to rent the cottage again it would easily cover the expense.

So we looked and debated and finally settled on a 8 year old, 26 foot trailer. My practical side looked in approval at the well preserved chassis, mildly dented exterior and new tires. My feminine side liked the small but functional kitchen/living/extra sleeping area. Stephanie's lustful side took one look at the queen size bed and the decision was made. I had to agree, no more sleeping on the ground for this girl now she had someone to sleep with!

As we each made out a check for half the price I took a moment to examine how 'I' had so easily become 'We'. In a couple of months my life had changed completely. I had settled into domesticity and femininity as if that had been the goal of life. Perhaps it was and I had never realized it. Stephanie and Kate completed each other, and Steve was little more than the guy who had to go to work a few days a week. The more I thought about it, the less relevant Steve was becoming.

---

At last finals were over and Kate was free. Well, almost free — there was one little hitch. Stephanie still had another month of classes for her second grade. Steve had been stored in the closet in the back room, but Kate was still chained to Stephanie's job.

Monday morning at 5AM I was again awakened by a godawful racket. By now I was used to it, but it didn't make it any more palatable.

I felt Stephanie stir beside me and grope for the snooze button. As had become our custom I reached out and played with whichever breast came to hand.

"Mmmmm… That's nice." She murmured.

"I've always enjoyed playing with breasts."

"So much so you found some of your own?"

"Let me rephrase that. I've always enjoyed playing with your breasts. Mine are over there in the drawer and no matter how much you played with them it wouldn't do any good."

"Such a shame. Maybe you should get some of your own sometime. That's a really nice feeling when you do that."

"The nice feeling is mutual. Too bad surgery is so permanent. I think I would like having my own breasts, but Steve would find them a handicap."

"Steve? I don't see no stinkin' Steve. If you want to be Kate then become Kate. Permanently."

"Don't think I haven't considered it, but I do like my job and want to keep teaching."

"There aren't any women teachers at the college?"

"None of my kind of women — at least that I know of. Transitioning on the job is a hard course to set."

"When you're sure, then do it. If you aren't then wait until you're sure. I love you no matter what you do."

"Even if I rip off the sheets and kick you out of bed?" I suited my actions to my words.

"You bastard! Ten more minutes? Please?

"Your charges will be left teacherless if you don't get up now."

"Bastard."

"Make that bitch — at least until the fall semester rolls around."

---

Stephanie managed to get dressed, eat and go on her way with only a few snarls of jealousy. Me, I was daydreaming about what I should do with the day when the phone rang.

"Hello"

"Good morning, Kate!"

"Hilda, I think you need to siphon some of that morning cheerfulness off and inject it into your daughter."

"My daughter never did like mornings. Her father sometimes had to pull the sheets off and dump her off the mattress to get her to school on time."

"Good god! I didn't have to move the mattress but I had to do the sheet thing this morning."

"That plays hob with the old saying that women marry a man like their father. Henry wasn't anything like you and I'm not just talking about your gender preference, dear."

"I do tend to make things difficult. Was there a reason you called or were you just doing your part to spread cheer throughout the land?"

"Actually, I thought my almost-daughter-in-law might like to join me on a trip to the garden center."

"I was just sitting here trying to decide what to do with the day. That would be lovely, Hilda."

"Then get your face on, I'll be over in half an hour."

Actually, I already had my face on. Since the electrolysis was well under way I had to invest much less time in shaving. That was the good part, the bad part was the sessions where a swarm of little, tiny bees attacked my face, stinging the roots of my hair. Their relatives found their into my purse and removed my savings while they were removing my beard, but on the whole it was worth it. I no longer had to shave at dinner if Kate was going to be out in public. By the time Stephanie finished with school I just might be able to retire my face razor.

By the way, I really don't want to relive the time I spent in a chair with a technician poking needles in me to remove my hair. Suffice it to say that I spent as much time as I could pushing the limits of what the hair removal people could do. When the residual pain bothered me I could hear my father's voice in my head saying 'Suck it up, son, and be a man.' Hey - it's my head and if I had to be Macho to become more feminine then blame it on my intended in-between lifestyle. Anyway, I spent less and less time shaving, not to mention much less time looking at the balance in my savings account. The cost was considerable, but years of simple single life left me with the resources to afford it.

---

Garden centers are some of my favorite places on this earth. You can get completely carried away when you walk down row after row of bright flowers and sparkling green leaves. Even though our potting shed and greenhouse was filled with pots of plants started in the artificial warmth I wasn't ready to stop there. Those were the annuals, the tomatoes and peppers and such, along with marigolds to border the vegetable patch. Marigolds are such cheerful flowers and they help keep the bugs away.

When Hilda had arrived at the farm we fired up my trusty pickup, the better to fill its flat and spacious bed with greenery. Hilda had more modest ambitions, looking at things for a window planter at her place in town. I wanted to plant some hollyhocks along the cottage wall and find something for the small bed by the back door. The crocuses had poked their heads up not too long after the ground warmed and the tulips and daffodils were just about gone by now. I was dithering as to whether some Allium or a Hyacinth would look better when Hilda spoke.

"Perennials, eh? You must be planning to stay for a while."

"For the rest of my life. Your family certainly has created a beautiful place to live, Hilda."

"Flatterer. Stephanie's in charge now, heap the sweet talk on her where it will do some good."

"Aye, and is it not your own sweet self that begat the dear child that I should be thankin' for bearing her?"

"Kate Hepburn yesterday, a leprechaun full of the blarney today — a quick change artist are you?"

"I'm as constant as the weather in April, my dear almost-mother-in-law. And I'm serious about how lovely your place is. How could you have left it for some prefab monstrosity with paper walls and rude neighbors?

"That was long ago and another time, Kate. I'm happy where I am and I still have my memories. I'm pleased you are so willing to keep the place beautiful, Steph has had some terrible tenants."

"So I gathered. I found some very interesting stuff in the basement of the cottage. I take it some college students were there once upon a time."

"And once is all the times she will rent to anyone in college. Those bastards filled the rock garden with beer bottles before she threw them out."

"I suppose they were empty bottles, so they didn't even contribute any nutritional value to the soil."

"Not unless cigarette filters have nutritional value. We had to sieve the dirt to clean out the glass and trash."

"Well, I promise to recycle my wine bottles properly."

"They whined too when she threw 'em out. Actually had to have the sheriff come out and haul them away."

"Remind me to pay my rent on time. She's one tough cookie."

"And proud of it. It's going to take a strong woman to stay happy with my daughter."

"Your daughter is the one teaching me to be strong as a woman. It's a whole different set of skills than what makes a strong man. Perhaps that's why I find life as Kate so satisfying — I never really grasped the whole macho man thing."

We were passing a wrought iron bench as we spoke and I motioned her to sit with me for a while. She turned to face me and took my hand.

"Were you really so different before I met you as Kate?"

"Yes and no. I don't mean to waffle, but I've come to think that the core of my personality is more what most people think of as female. I got along OK as Steve, but I was never really invested in it, if you know what I mean. No close friends, no long term relationships. Something always seemed to get in the way of that kind of closeness. I now think it was because Steve was an artificial construct I created to blend in with society. Kate is who I should have been if fate had been kind."

"Fate. Fate can be a truly nasty bitch. I thought I would have my Henry with me forever. He was a good man and he adored our children. He couldn't understand Stephanie and it hurt him terribly when she married Faruq. She was in love and no one could convince her he was going to make her life miserable, although we all saw it quite clearly. Kate, I hate to be so blunt, but are you going to make my little girl miserable?"

"Hilda, I think you can see the answer for yourself. Have you ever seen her as happy as she has been since we found each other?"

"No, but she was ecstatic about Faruq, too."

I don't doubt it, but she was, what, 17 years old?"

"Eighteen when she met him. They got married four months after they met and she was pregnant within weeks."

"At least that's one thing you don't have to worry about. You know Steph has had her tubes tied. It might be theoretically possible to undo it, but we don't intend to try. It isn't fair to the children to start them so late in life. Their parents should be with when they graduate or get married, not pushing up daisies."

"I'm not so desperate for more grandchildren, Kate. I wish I could see Tarik and Yasmin, though. Such beautiful children to be fathered by such an uncaring man."

"Someday, Hilda. Don't tell Stephanie, but I talked to an old acquaintance who wound up in the foreign service. I think he was shocked to hear from me, but he's going to find if there is any trace of them to be found. Unofficially and informally. Don't get your hopes up, it could be months before anything turns up. It's not exactly his first priority, but he will try, I'm sure."

"From your lips to the lord's ears. What a generous thing to do."

"I love your daughter. She still mourns her lost children and if I can help I will do whatever it takes. I just hope that if they turn up they will enrich her life and not cause more pain. There's always a chance that a good idea will turn out badly."

"So there is, but if you don't try you can't win. I don't know what I expected to accomplish by getting to know you better, but woman or man, I think my daughter has made the right choice this time.

"You don't know what that means to me, Hilda. I'm an only child and my parents died far too early. I've never had a family and becoming part of yours has been one of the most wonderful things to happen to me. I know the course Stephanie and I have set makes it hard to accept me, but you and your children all seem to have the ability to see the person and not the mask. I'm just sorry I can't get to know Henry. He must have been a wonderful man."

"He was, but he could be as exasperating as his daughter. I can see a lot of Henry in Stephanie."

"Odd, Stephanie says the same about me and Steve."

"I think I won't go there. Well, we did come here to look at plants. Did you see anything that would climb that trellis on the back porch?"

"There's some trumpet vines over that-a-way, kemo-sabe."

---

"The Doctor can see you now, Professor."

"Thank you, Sarah," I replied. The place was pretty much deserted during the summer break, but there was the usual 'skeleton staff' available if any of the students should need counseling. I rose, feeling distinctly odd. Not because I was a professor (albeit an adjunct) in the student counseling center, but because for the first time in several months I was wearing typical male clothing. The sort of clothing I had taken for granted for forty four years but now seemed very foreign to me.

Go figure.

"Come in and sit down, Steve," invited Andy. "What can I do for you on this fine morning?" Andy sounded like he was in a jovial mood.

"You may come to regret asking that question, my friend, but since you asked, I'll answer."

I have known Andy almost since I started at the college. One of my students had some serious mental health issues and I had spoken with Andy quite often in dealing with her crisis. A large, bearded man, he had a gentle nature and self deprecating humor that put everyone at ease. He was also a very good counselor, with an innate ability to provide honest advice and comment to his patients.

I had no idea how my student had fared since she left the school but I was impressed with Andy's professional skills in helping her in her distress. We had come to be friends in a loose sort of way, stopping to chat now and then as we met on campus, but not growing very close.

"I suppose I should start with a question of my own, Andy. How much do you know about Gender Identity Disorder?"

"You know Steve, after all these years of talking to people I sometimes think I've heard it all, but then people keep surprising me."

"You and me both, Andy."

"At least I'm in good company. To tell the truth, I've had some experience in the field. We had a transsexual student here a few years ago and I had to learn a good deal about the subject. I'm no expert by any means, but I know enough to realize my ignorance."

" 'Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance,' to quote Durant. I suppose philosophy could be considered a bridge between our fields of study. But I didn't come to talk philosophy, I came to talk about what's happened to me and see if you could offer me a push in the right direction. "

"I won't beat around the bush, I have come to believe I have Gender Identity Disorder. Funny, but there's a temptation to say you 'suffer from' a condition like GID, but that's not accurate at all. I've found a peace and wholeness living as a woman that I never knew as a man and it's time to talk to a professional and see how to proceed from here."

"You know, Steve, I just hate it when patients come in and start quoting the DSM. One of these days they're gonna dispense with us human beings altogether and just have the patients fill out a form on the Internet and get treatment over the wires."

"I was hoping to leave the DSM out of this because I don't fall under any of the neat little categories they have."

"Surprise, surprise. Not many people do. Can I ask you for a little background here? How long have you been concerned about your gender? What have you done about it?"

"I don't think I've ever been 'concerned' about my gender, more like I just didn't give a damn. I never really bought into the 'boys should do this and girls should do that' routine. When I was a kid I played little league twice a week and helped my mother in the garden whenever I could. I played dolls with the girl next door and Cowboys and Indians with the guy on the other side of the street. I swiped my cousin's clothes once and tried them on but the whole girl-boy dichotomy was still a mystery. I used to be able to open the hood of a car and do some good before computers took over and I still knit sweaters and scarves when the urge takes me. In other words, I was never unhappy as a man but I wasn't really happy either. Call me wishy-washy, undecided, ambivalent. I just didn't care."

"So what changed? Obviously something has or you wouldn't be here."

"I fell in love. Sometimes I think I fell into the pages of an English farce, I mean who would believe I discovered my femininity by falling in love with a woman?"

"Maybe you should consult Monty Python and not me."

"Don't think I haven't considered it. But seriously, living as Kate for the last months has convinced me that I am far more feminine than masculine."

"Kate?"

"The name I've chosen for my feminine side."

"But she's not completely feminine?"

"Is anyone completely feminine or masculine? I think I'm coming to a balance, but with the feminine noticeably stronger."

"You mentioned falling in love. May I ask about how this affects your sex life?"

"I suppose we do have to talk about that. Good thing that my feminine side is more comfortable talking about sex. Actually my sex life is better than it ever was. How can I put it? I have always enjoyed sex when I found a willing woman, but it has never driven my actions. I simply don't understand the whole macho, grunting caveman approach. A lady who I grew very close to many years ago told me I made love like a woman even though I had a penis. She was complimenting me but I didn't fully understand it until very recently. I enjoy using my original plumbing, so to speak, but life is far more than sex."

"And this dichotomy doesn't disturb you. Or your lover?"

"Maybe it should, but it doesn't. As for Stephanie — my fiancée's name, by the way — she's the reason I found my feminine side. It's a long story but the condensed version she was horribly abused and couldn't let a man near her. She let me wear her robe after an accident with a manure pile and things snowballed from there."

"Steve, I really think I need to consult Monty Python, or at least their scriptwriters, before offering any advice. After a mixed metaphor like that what else makes sense? I'll suspend my curiosity for a later session, I'm trying to get a feel for the overall picture here. So your fiancée is supportive of your desire to live as a woman — at least outside the bedroom?"

"Very much so."

"You do realize that if you start taking hormones your ability to perform as a man will be impaired?"

"Of course. I question whether I would actually need hormones in the long run. I've been living was a woman for some time now and have been accepted as what I appear. My body doesn't appear to be stereotypically male of female, my clothes and other visual clues make a big difference.

"And how do you think the clothes you wear make a difference in your relationship?"

"I don't think it's the clothes all by themselves. Don't get me wrong, I do love wearing skirts and dresses, but it's more a way of looking at things. There's a change of perspective that gives me a wider view of the world. That, and it just feels right. I haven't felt satisfied with my life for an awful long time, but being Kate has made me a whole person for the first time."

"Being Kate. An interesting way to put it."

"I suppose she's always been there, but I never really looked deep enough."

"And if you had to stop 'being Kate' and had to become Steve once more?"

"I don't know. Now that I have come to realize Kate meets some deep need I wonder if I could go back to being Steve."

"So, do you have a plan that will allow Kate to become real?

"She's already real, but that's where you come in. I have already become Kate, but I realize that if I just showed up this fall in a skirt all hell would break loose. I've read the Standards of Care and the DSM, so I know I don't fall into the usual categories. I know I'm going to have to jump through a series of hoops to satisfy the rest of the world, particularly the College, that Kate is the real me and I want to get the process started as soon as I can. I know that I'm going to have to see someone who specializes in GID and hope you can guide me to the appropriate people.

"You don't ask for much, do you Steve? Sounds like I need a magic wand or a bottle full of Genie rather than a Doctorate."

"Wear a turban and I bet you'd make a great Genie."

"Nah, I'd be to embarrassed to show my belly with those vest things they wear.. The best I can offer is to do a little checking and see who I can refer you to. I don't think Dr. Bartz is still practicing any more but there has to be someone who can help you in the area. The field of transgender care has expended quite a bit in the past decade or so."

"That's all I can ask, Andy. That and some help with breaking it gently to the administration that I'm going to be crossing the gender line sometime soon."

"Have you thought seriously about how this will affect your job status? I really don't know how a sex change would play out with the administration or the faculty. My transgendered student had some rough times but did OK. You would be considerably more in the spotlight when you change. Look at the publicity the teacher over in Batavia got when she transitioned. Don't forget that if someone On High wants to get rid of you there is always some way to cite a reason that has nothing to do with the gender change."

"I know it's a risk, Andy. A big one, perhaps. Dean Santos is a pretty laid back guy, but I don't know how he'll react to a situation like this. However, I have no doubts it's the right course for me and Stephanie"

"I think you're going to have to do some powerful convincing to make the gatekeepers believe you are serious after only a few months of crossdressing. Do I have it right that there is no long history of gender dysphoria?"

"To misquote our former president, it depends on what you mean by dysphoria. I haven't been satisfied with my life for quite a long time, but I couldn't figure out exactly why. It wasn't bad enough to seek professional help, but it wasn't what you would call living happily ever after, either. Learning to enjoy my feminine side simply crystallized the dissatisfaction and made it clear. I haven't felt so good in and awful lot of years, Andy."

"If it works for you, my friend, then I won't question it. Trouble is there will be a whole lot of others lining up to tell you how to live your life. They have to be convinced if you hope to keep your credentials and keep teaching. Scratch an academic liberal and it's amazing the intolerance you find under the skin."

"You don't have to tell me! Tenure has been one of those shining goals far off in the distance for my entire life."

"At least we shrinks don't have to worry about tenure. Remember, nobody ever found the Holy Grail, either, and that didn't even involve sex. Give me a day or two to see what I can find. Can you make it back on Thursday?"

"Not a problem, I intend to spend the rest of the week in our garden before going off for a couple of weeks of vacation and playing Tourist."

"While I slave here manning the barricades and Showing The Flag for all to see. I had the foolish idea that academics got the summers off when I went to school."

"Some of us still do. Good thing I fell in love with a teacher so we both have the summer off."

"Go ahead — rub it in. Speaking of your love interest, I think it would be good to meet Stephanie on Thursday, as well as Kate."

"Well, I suppose Kate has to be seen on campus sometime, so why not Thursday?"

"No reason in the world. I'll put the appointment in the book myself so there's no need to let my receptionist make a connection sooner than need be."

"Thank you, Andy. I know it has to happen, but I want it to be controlled and not a screaming scandal."

"Until Thursday, then."

He rose and opened the door.

"See you then."

---

"So how did it go, honey?"

I sat down in the living room chair and looked at Stephanie.

"As well as I could expect, I guess."

"That bad, huh?" she laughed.

"Well, not bad, just..." I trailed off.

"Slow. The word you want is 'slow', isn't it?"

"Like molasses in a Brockport winter. Like electrolysis. Like ..."

"Are those similes or metaphors? I never could get the two straight."

"Well, there are a lot of people who wonder if you're straight with me for a mate."

"Damn straight, lover. Let them wonder.!"

I want to be Kate forever starting RIGHT NOW, but I may have to go back to being Steve until the Medical Establishment will believe me and produce the Magic Paper that lets me do it. It's frustrating!"

"Want some platitudes? Those I remember, even if similes and metaphors confuse me. 'All things come to those who wait', 'You can't always get what you want' or 'Slow and steady wins the race'."

'Sorrow and silence are strong and patient endurance is godlike.' "That's Longfellow, an appropriate name to invoke for something that looks like it will take forever."

"Well, you get to spend forever with me, lover."

"Indeed I do. By the way, you're invited to accompany Kate to her next session with Andy."

"Cool. Brave enough to let Kate be seen on Campus?"

"In the summertime, maybe. After the last couple of months I know I don't have to worry much about people reading me. They see what they expect to see and I won't disappoint them."

"So take off that Steve disguise and Kate can help me weed the garden."

"I'd rather chop wood, it would help me to release some of the frustration."

"Pooh! You just don't want to do the weeding."

So I went off into the bedroom to become myself again and got gloriously smelly and sweaty chopping wood. In spite of the tickling and itching as perspiration dripped down between my forms and skin (one more reason to get the real thing!), chopping wood wasn't a bad idea - I didn't have to think very hard and the repetitive work kept me from brooding on how long it would take to go from Steve to Kate. Publicly, I mean. It hadn't taken very long for me to find Kate within myself.

---

While Stephanie slaved away in the education mines, I spent time with Hilda in the garden. My mother-in law (I had abandoned the 'almost' because the commitment was a done deal even if we hadn't had the ceremony) and I got to know each other quite well. Henry was no longer a shadowy figure in the past, her stories had breathed life into the memory of her long dead husband. I was saddened to have missed him.

Then there was the day that Hilda and I went strawberry picking. I was ready early that day, having been assured the earlier they were picked the better the strawberries tasted. I had been instructed to dress in old clothes, a problem since Kate's wardrobe hadn't had time to get old. I had to rely on Steve's cast-offs.

I strapped myself into the gaff and slid on a pair of padded panties, then an older pair of shorts. Tight at the hips with the padding, but they went on. Hey — high fashion wasn't called for in a strawberry field. At least Kate had a black T-shirt with a feminine neckline. I just hoped the strawberry stains would be hidden by the black fabric.

Hilda gave me an appraising look when she arrived, but didn't say anything for a moment.

"You do realize that you'll be wearing pink panties when we're done no matter what color they started out."

"Why Hilda, I love pink panties."

"You would, I suppose. You are a strange woman, Kate." That had become kind of a joke between us over the last few weeks.

The strawberry field was only a short drive away. Actually, everything in Brockport is a short drive away; that's one of its charms. We pulled up in front of a wooden stand along a country road, where Hilda got out with a collection of baskets from the trunk and talked to the woman in the booth. The woman weighed them and marked a price on each one. Pick your own strawberries are sold by the pound, so each price would be deducted from the total at the end.

It was a short drive past an orchard to the field — walking distance really, if you weren't carrying a load of strawberries. We got out and hiked until we saw a little orange flag in the middle of a row of strawberries; that's where the last customer stopped picking. I looked around at the other people in the field and tried to figure out just how best to pick strawberries. Some were sitting, some were kneeling, others bending from the waist and still others were crawling on all fours. In any case, the strawberries were close to the ground, not at a convenient height like the apples on the trees lining the strawberry field.

There were also about a million kids running around, strawberry picking was obviously a family affair. Two rows away there was a flaxen-haired little girl about three years old who would run to her father with each and every strawberry she picked, crying "Look, Daddy! I picked my very own strawberry!" Ah, the enthusiasm of youth.

I tried sitting cross-legged, but with the gaff that quickly became uncomfortable. Besides, every time I moved I felt a strawberry or two squish under my bottom and I knew that Mom was right about pink panties. Pink polkadots, for sure! Kneeling was not too bad, but it was hard to reach the strawberries at the far side of the row (and the best ones were ALWAYS on the far side of the row) and stay balanced, so I tried the crawling position. Better stability, but I sure could feel my breast forms as they dangled beneath me. Since it was getting quite warm after a little while, I became aware of a certain stickiness as they moved against my chest and felt an occasional drip of perspiration. There were quite a few things I'd never considered when I decided it would be fun to spend the summer as a woman!

Picking those babies was hard work; I wondered how the professionals in the far field managed to do it all day, every day. You couldn't pay me enough to do that! The basket I pushed along the row seemed to fill with exquisite slowness, but perhaps that had something to do with how many strawberries ended up in my mouth instead of the basket.

After a while I became aware of a couple of teenage girls halfway across the field. They were completely out of place in this rural setting, bikini tops showing their budding cleavage, short shorts and several gleaming reflections from navel, brow, nose and lip that told me they thought they were the baddest bitches on the block. Believe me, I've enough of them in my classes to know them when I see them.

They had stopped picking berries and were watching me intently, whispering to each other every so often. As I crawled along, I kept an eye on them; this was a situation that could get ugly. I knew from the discussion boards where I lurked on the web that these specimens were every crossdresser's worst nightmare. Their usual habitat was the mall, an environment that I avoided when at all possible, but here they were, staring at me. In that warm field I was very glad my practically hairless face no longer needed make up to hide a beard, but there was no way I could ignore them. Hell, I began to worry about just about everything. As I've said before, I have a very active imagination. I was relieved when their mother (or whoever she was!) told them in no uncertain terms to stop lollygagging and start picking.

At last, the baskets were full to Hilda's satisfaction and we made our way back to the car. Air conditioning never felt so good! I thought we would head for home, but Hilda stopped at the Wegmans for sugar and bags for the strawberries. She insisted on treating me to lunch at the Chinese buffet in the store.

The air conditioning in the store was heavenly, at least until my legs, far more exposed than usual in the shorts, got a bit chilly. Wegmans had pioneered the idea of the food court inside grocery stores in the area and the food is pretty good. I had resorted to their take-out more than once when I wasn't in the mood to cook for myself, but had seldom actually sat down and eaten in the store.

Once home, we settled around the table, armed with sharp knives, to hull and slice strawberries. How strange and yet commonplace to be sitting with my new mother at the table, gossiping without a care in the world! It soon became obvious that my ass was not the only part of my anatomy that would be pink by the end of the day. I was going to have to change nail polish color; the blue just didn't work with strawberry stains. By the time Stephanie got home the jars were full of preserves and the freezer fill of ripe, red fruit.

---

"The Doctor can see you now, ma'am.

"Thank you, Sarah," I replied. The place was still deserted

The place was as quiet as it was two days before and the young woman hadn't changed, either. She showed no sign of connecting me to the professor she had seen on Tuesday, much to my relief. No matter how good I felt about being Kate, during the transitional period I knew I was going to worry about people who could connect the dots. I've been that way all my life when I had a secret, so it wasn't surprising I still worried.

"Come in and sit down, Kate," invited Andy, "And you too, Stephanie."

"Thank you, doctor, " Steph replied.

"Please, it's Andy. No need for formality when you're about to bare your soul."

"Sounds like church. I don't see any hymnals laying about."

"That's because you've never heard me sing," Andy grinned. "Believe me, it's best to stick to conversation."

"So, what have you learned, Andy?" I asked. Best to get to the point.

"I was correct in thinking Dr. Bartz had retired, but I have a list of several people in the area with specialties on LBGT issues. I have no personal experience with any of them, so you'll have to simply call down the list and find someone who is accepting new patients. Kate, I'm afraid the only way to decide if a therapist is right for you is to pay them a visit and ask your questions."

"Nobody said it would be easy and I'm finding out how true that is. It all seemed so simple when I had that blinding revelation that I was meant to spend the rest of my life as Kate. I've never felt so at peace with myself and so sure of what I needed to do. Too bad the rest of the world isn't as accepting as Stephanie."

"Ah, Stephanie. Just how accepting are you? Should I ask Kate to go and powder her nose before you answer?"

"I don't think so. I'm in love with Kate and nothing's going to change that, but every once in a while I wonder if I'm crazy for being so happy with a woman who is still part man."

"Not an unjustified fear, I would think," replied Andy. Our culture does tend to want things like sex and gender to be black and white. Not to be gauche, but I do you both assume the traditional sex roles when making love?"

"Most of the time."

"And you enjoy his being a man when you make love?"

Stephanie's eyes got a faraway look for a moment. "Very much so, but that's just the problem. Am I crazy to want to have a man for sex and a woman the rest of the time?"

"My dear, in my professional life I have heard a truly remarkable spectrum of sexual practices, variations that would make the proverbial sailor blush. Many fall far out of the norm, but unless what you do together causes you anguish or there is an intent to harm your partner, I can see no reason to worry about it. "

"There was a time in my life when I succeeded in making quite a few sailors do a lot more than blush. I didn't give a damn about what happened to me and tried just about everything physically possible to stop myself from thinking. What Kate and I do in bed is Sunday School stuff compared to what happened back then."

"Indeed. Interesting you should use the phrase 'Sunday School'. Do you have religious concerns about your relationship with Kate?"

"I stopped believing in god a long time ago, Andy."

"Perhaps, but your early training often comes back to haunt you. Is there some biblical Patriarch in your head looking down and telling you you'll burn in Hell forever!"

"Not a patriarch, but a little old woman named Sister Grace."

I sat there and kept quiet while Andy teased the story of Steph's disastrous marriage and her wild behavior afterward. She had landed in a free clinic run by the Sisters of Mercy after her divorce and subsequent depressive episode and they had brought her back from her downward spiral. There was something about Andy that made you trust him almost instantly. It had taken me months to learn about Stephanie's background, Andy took only minutes to get the story.

"All I can say is life changing decisions like this one never come without a host of problems. I'm a generalist, I can't claim any expertise in gender issues, so I can only urge you to take this up with your gender therapist. However, what I can say is that if you are comfortable with Kate's dual gender then you have no need to question your own sanity."

"I don't really question abut my sanity, Andy, but sometimes my past comes back to haunt me. Kate is the reason I can deal with the ghosts, her love is what keeps me going."

"My dear," Andy commented, "If all the people in the world were as resourceful as you I'd be out of business."

"Not much chance of that happening. I think I have a couple of students in my second grade that will be good candidates for your services in a few years."

"I suppose there's an inexhaustible supply of patients after all. So tell me, Kate - when it comes to sex, are you comfortable with reverting to being the male?"

"I do enjoy it, but I have sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a woman and feel a man inside me."

"You and most of the male population, although not many would admit it. It's completely normal to wonder - it's called 'empathy'. Then you feel no need to change your genital plumbing?"

"Not really. I sometimes wonder about having real breasts, but from my point of view our sex life is just fine as it is."

"On that we agree, Andy!" Stephanie grinned as she spoke.

"Then I think we have explored that subject sufficiently. Other roadblocks will come along, you realize. How will you handle it when some right wing wacko starts picketing your house. When some busybody calls in a child protective referral on the teacher with a deviant boyfriend? It could happen, you know."

"That would be my sister in law. She's none too happy about us." I must have had quite a grimace on my face.

"So it hasn't been all sweetness and light? How has the rest of your family been with the situation, Stephanie?

"Pretty good. They think I'm crazy but that's nothing new. Compared to what happened after the divorce this is pretty tame stuff."

"What about your friends, Kate?"

"You know what? I've realized I hadn't had anyone I could honestly call a friend in many years. Loads of acquaintances, but no real friends."

"That's not as unusual as you might think these days. Our culture has lost much of the personal touch. I think you are doing remarkably well with so momentous a life change, both of you."

"Don't worry, if the school decides that Kate is too much for them I'll need some help"

"Indeed you shall. I'm not sure what else to say other than to wish you luck with making your dreams come true. Whoever you choose to be your gatekeeper, don't be afraid to give me a call any time you need to talk."

"Thank you, Andy. That's something I won't forget."

"Me either, Andy," Steph added. I think we have another friend to add to our small list."

"Indeed."

"You get a lot of mileage out of that word!" laughed Stephanie.

"Indeed I do."

We left the office laughing, which clearly made the young student at the desk wonder what was going on. Oh well, life is a series of mysteries, isn't it?

So I went home and started calling down the short list of gender specialists. Much to my disappointment, the first opening was in July, the week after we planned to be in Allegany State Park. I know specialists are busy people, but I didn't want to wait.

---

Eventually the flowers were starting to establish themselves in the garden, Stephanie's school year ended and the summer solstice arrived; time for the Pie Festival. This annual gathering of family and friends at the old homestead had been glowingly described to me by one and all. It seemed most of the world came to eat, socialize, camp out in the yard and eat some more.

The family had arrived Friday night and was filling the various bedrooms of the old house. Excited, I arose with the dawn and padded out to the mailbox in my nightgown to retrieve the paper. (Yes, I was still sleeping with a lightweight bra and foam breast forms if you were wondering.) I spent a little while sitting on the sofa and catching up on the latest calamities in the world. They were still blowing up people in several countries, the usual politicians were telling the usual terrorists they couldn't win, while the sports types were denying they used drugs and the economy was doing fine even if everyone was unemployed. A perfectly normal day.

"Good morning, Aunt Kate"

"Good morning, Julia. Nice to have someone else to share the morning with."

"I have to be up for soccer practice about now and I haven't managed to get on a summer schedule yet. I like your nightgown, Aunt Kate."

"Why, thank you, Julia. I haven't had many compliments for wearing a dress lately.

She giggled. "I bet Mom must have done her Ice Queen routine when she found out."

"I think that's a fair description."

"Is it true?"

"That I was born male? Yes, it's true. Does it bother you?"

"I don't think so. I kind of wondered when I first saw you, but if Karen hadn't said anything I don't think I would have really thought about it too much. Don't tell Mom, but I did a project on gender roles for school and I met a couple of female impersonators."

"This is the real me, Julia, I'm not impersonating anyone. The whole thing started as kind of a joke, but I found I like being Kate. A lot of people won't understand that."

"Like Mom. I don't want to get too personal, Aunt Kate, but what is it about being a woman that makes you want to dress like one?

"You know what, Julia? Most of the family has been very accepting, but you're the first one who has asked that question."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She stammered.

"No, I'm glad you did. I'll try to be honest, but I'm not so sure I know the answer."

"That seems funny. Did you like being a man?"

"It's not so much liking or disliking; I simply grew up as a man and never had any reason to think about it. I enjoyed women like most men do as far as I can tell, but I never really thought about becoming one. I've always admired things that most people consider feminine, like building consensus and empathy, and I do things like knit and sometimes sew that most men don't do, but I have a pretty strong independent streak and can get pretty stubborn about doing things my way sometimes."

"Then why did you decide to try being a woman?"

"It wasn't so much a decision as the result of circumstances. How well do you know your Aunt Stephanie?"

"Not too well, Mom and Dad are kinda embarrassed by her. They won't tell me why, but she did something that upset them."

"You need to talk to your Aunt Steph sometime about her first marriage. I won't go into details now, but she married a Iranian man who mistreated her badly. She couldn't see why her parents were worried; not because he was a foreigner, but because he treated her like property. When the marriage failed she did some stupid things. Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll kind of things."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. It's her story to tell so ask her. Anyway, she didn't trust men all that much as a result."

So I told her the story of the horseshit and how I ended up in Steph's robe, then wearing her panties. The funny thing was how easy it was to talk about it, just two women sharing life stories. No embarrassment, no fuss, just sharing.

I was curious and asked her to tell me about her gender role project at school. The conversation brought me back to my own youth, to those late nights when we would gather in someone's basement and explore the ultimate meaning of the universe and probe Truth And Beauty endlessly. There was a subtle change in attitude as Kate, one that let the differences in our ages melt away. Julia was a wonderful young woman who had a great deal of empathy and was truly interested in how I felt and why I wanted to dress as a woman.

The thrust of our conversation was slightly different than the times Steph and I had approached the subject. With us, there was an assumption that this was the right thing for us; with Julia, I explored WHY it was the right thing, what made it so compelling that I would defy the conventions of our society to do it. I realized that the core of her interest was in the way I had chosen to defy the expectations of those around me, to question the assumptions I had been taught and find a way that was right for me.

"I think that may be the simplest definition of maturity, Julia. When you realize that you alone are responsible for what you make of your life. Your parents and teachers and all of society have tried to show you what is right or wrong, but in the end you have to judge for yourself. That's a hard thing to do at any age. Your parents seem to have some pretty strong values, but I think you are starting to question them, right?"

"Sometimes they can get pretty preachy."

"Try being a professor sometime, it's a constant battle not to start preaching. I know it's sometimes hard to remember that they love you and only want the best for you, so you should give their ideas a fair hearing. Most of what they say will make a lot of sense but some of it won't. The hard part is some things that don't make sense right now will make a lot of sense later, when you have more experience with life.

"Most parents try to help their kids jump over the hard parts by telling them what not to do. That's human nature, but there's no substitute for your own experience. Grandma Hilda knew that Steph was doing something dumb when she married the guy and tried to save her the pain, but Aunt Steph had to learn a lot of lessons the hard way and it cost her many years of agony to realize that her parents really were concerned for her and not just being racists or prudes.

"Sometimes it takes a great deal of time to realize what's right. I'm in my forties now and until a month or so ago I had no idea how much of me was what society considers feminine. I thought I was perfectly happy as a man, but I had never made a real connection with another person. I told you the whole thing started as a joke, but by playing at being Stephanie's girlfriend I found just what was missing from my life. All I can say is if you keep your mind open and try new things, someday you'll find what is right for you. It's going to be different from what's right for everyone else, so don't be scared when other people don't approve. Just remember that they might have more experience than you in dealing with new ideas."

"No easy answers, are there, Aunt Kate?"

"There never have been. The Christians have something when they talk about the easy road leading to Hell."

"Can I come and see you when I'm in school, Aunt Kate?"

"Of course, assuming the college will accept me as Kate." They still think I'm Stephen.

"How do you manage to keep it all straight?"

"Your Aunt Steph told me to check what underwear I have on before deciding who I am."

She dissolved into real laughter at the joke. "Uncle Steve wouldn't be wearing a bra, right?"

"Nor padded panties nor stockings. Those are some pretty good clues."

"I wondered how you got your curves."

"They came from an Internet catalog and were delivered by mail. It does take the glow off the image sometimes, but after a while I don't notice the padding and just feel like Kate. Your female impersonator friends probably have a much more sophisticated version of what I use."

"Actually, they both had surgery and there was no way to tell their breasts weren't natural. I saw them at the strip club and please don't let my folks know."

"Wait a minute! Where did you find a female impersonator strip show in Rochester?"

"Not in Rochester, silly. It was New Orleans."

"I suppose you can find anything in the Big Easy, but how did you manage to get into a strip show in New Orleans without your parents finding out?"

"Because I left them home. I talked them into letting me to Mardi Gras with a friend's family. Her cousin works there and he got us in for free and introduced us to the girls. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Julia, anything we talk about is our business and I'm not spilling any secrets to your parents"

"Thanks, Aunt Kate. Anyway, they sure looked like girls, even with their tops off."

"You did this all in the spirit of pure academic research, I assume?"

"Of course." She really had a nice giggle. "I used the whole experience for my project much later. Some of the girls even let me interview them on the phone when I got serious about doing the project right."

"Tell me, were they happy that they had had the surgery? I have sometimes wondered what it would belike to have breasts of my own."

"Funny, Susan told me that she had always wanted to have breasts ever since she was old enough to know what they were. She couldn't be happier now that she had them. Carol more or less considered having breasts a tool of the trade, but she was a very cynical person. I suspect she turns tricks on the side, but she wouldn't talk about it.

"If you can get people to open up like that, you may have a bright future as a researcher, Julia."

"What will you do if someone from the college finds out about Kate?"

"I've put some thought into that. Quite frankly, when this started I assumed that Kate would stay quite separate from my life at the college. Of course, we assumed that no one would know that Kate was anything but Stephanie's friend and she would disappear into oblivion at the end of the summer. It's not quite working out that way. People have noticed that Steve has become more feminine. I took a bit of ribbing when I had my ears pierced and my hair permed."

"What would happen if Mom made a fuss with your dean or something?"

"I really don't know. We do have a policy about transgendered people at the college, but I never thought it would affect me. When the E-mail popped up on my computer, I thought it was just one more piece of junk mail that the administration sent to justify the big bucks they're paid. I don't think they'd fire me, but I'm not tenured. I suppose they might not renew my contract if too many people got upset."

"If they do, I'll organize a demonstration on campus."

"Let's not go there quite yet. Kate is still just a middle-aged woman living on a farm and has nothing to do with academia. I think. Maybe."

"Don't ask — don't tell, is it?"

"That seems to be working just about as well for me as it does the military. Too many people know the truth about Kate as it is."

"I hope Mom doesn't make trouble. She still thinks I'm a little kid sometimes. I bet she wanted to make sure I didn't know about you."

"You do know your mother well. She wasn't pleased when we didn't agree. Besides, if the other kids know, then you should know. How's your brother taking it?

"I'm not sure. He doesn't talk about his feelings much. He's kind of like dad — ignore it and it will go away."

"This might be a situation where ignoring the unpalatable will make life run more smoothly. I think we ought to make breakfast and we can talk more later, OK? I'm hearing stirrings upstairs."

"Sure. I hear you're a pretty good cook."

"That's one of those things you'll have to decide for yourself. In any case I'd better get dressed so I don't scandalize anyone."

---

Deb did not look pleased to find us together in the kitchen, but what could she do about it? Banana pancakes were the order of the day, courtesy of a bunch of very ripe bananas in the kitchen. Julia was as competent in the kitchen as her aunt and her brother Tony volunteered to flip pancakes and let me eat after he consumed the first batch. The conversation was a bit stilted, but at least it was civil.

We were just collecting the dirty dishes when a horn sounded in the yard — Lucy and Bernie in their catering truck.

"Everybody still speaking to each other?" Bernie inquired as he came into the kitchen.

"At least until you got here," Steph replied tartly.

"You wound me, sister of mine!"

"Don't tempt me. You're safe until after the tent is up, anyway."

"Slave driver. So what's the plan here?"

"The plan is for us ladies to go pick cherries for the pies while you men can put up the tent." General Stephanie was ordering the troops for battle.

"Oy vey! I really am going to have to start wearing a bra too, if it gets me out of swinging a sledge hammer."

"If you could hit the stake on the head more than once in every three swings, it would make the job a lot faster, brother in law. You need all the practice you can get."

"I shall save a wooden stake with your name on it for your cold, cold heart, my loving sister-in-law. You have to sleep sometime."

"You'd miss that one, too and I'd wake up before it did any damage. Come on, ladies, we'll let the gentlemen cope with the dishes and see if they can handle them."

The six of us that were currently considered ladies soon filled Deb's station wagon. Was it chance that put me in the middle of the seat next to Deb or was I finagled? I'm not sure who was more uncomfortable for the next ten minutes as we made our way to the Hurd Orchards, me or her.

"Who's picking the blacks and who has the reds?" Steph asked as we pulled in at the stand.

"Karen and I can show Aunt Kate where the black ones are, while you old folks go and be find the red cherries." offered Julia.

"Julia, I...." Deb was quickly overruled by her sister-in-law.

"That sounds like a good plan, Julia. Do you think the two of you can keep Karen from eating so many cherries she gets sick?"

"Aw, c'mon, Aunt Steffie. I was a little kid then; I know better now."

"How many cherries do we need, Steph?" I asked.

"Let me get you the containers. Just fill them up and wait for us to get back."

"You're abandoning me with these two angels?"

"Cope with it. The reds cherries are on the other side of the orchard. You can have a tea party in the flower house while you wait."

So we went through the now familiar ritual of weighing the containers and I was left with the girls.

"Jeez, Julia, I thought your mother was going to have a kitten. She doesn't like Aunt Kate much, does she?"

"She doesn't really know me, Karen," I temporized. "I think she's afraid I might molest you or something. You read an awful lot in the paper these days about children being sexually assaulted."

"But you're almost related to us. You wouldn't do that."

"Of course I wouldn't, but most of the people who sexually assault children are family or friends of the family. That's a scary thought for a mother who's leaving her child with a man wearing a dress."

"Oh. I didn't think of that."

"It's a shame we have to think that way, but that's the way it is. Enough of the scary stuff, we're here to pick cherries. Show me where the picking is best."

"Let's start with the closest."

So we picked cherries and even got a few into the pail instead of our mouths. Actually, after a couple of dozen, you kind of lose interest in eating them. There were dark black ones, bright red ones and blushing pink ones. They all had names, but I don't really remember them. When we got to enough dark ones we found some of the pink ones. It was obvious we were not the first to pick them; unlike the darker ones, the fruit at ground level was gone and we had to get up higher to pick them. There were ladders scattered throughout the orchard, so Julia and Karen brought one over to our chosen tree.

They were funny ladders, with a very wide base that narrowed as the steps got higher. I assume that made them easier to get up into the cherry trees. The back of the ladder came to a point that easily penetrated the ground, so it wouldn't slip. I began to regret not having changed out of my dress before we left the house. Oh, well. Nobody here but us chickens, so up I went.

"I see London, I see France," the familiar chant floated up to me in the leafy precincts of the cherry tree. "I see Auntie's underpants and they're pink!"

Karen was absolutely correct.

"Watch it, kid, or I'll accidentally drop this bucket of cherries on your head."

"Ooh! Threats!"

"Then I'll make you cut the pits out of all of them while I relax, you little hellion."

"Big deal, we got a pitting machine and I probably have to do it anyhow."

No way to win this one, so I went back to picking cherries. We filled our allotted containers and I paid for the booty, still getting a little thrill in opening my purse and taking out the money. I took advantage of some of their baked goods and we settled at a table in the small shelter to enjoy them while we waited for the others. Gradually I became aware that Karen was studying me closely.

"You look like you have a question, Karen."

"Nah."

"The why do I feel like a bug under a microscope? Go ahead and tell me what's on your mind. If the question is am I really a man then the answer is yes."

"I know that it's just..."

"It's just that I have to be pretty weird to be doing this, right?"

"She's cool, Karen," Julia encouraged. "We talked for a long time this morning."

"Karen, I want you to be able to ask me anything you want. If it's none of your business, I'll tell you; otherwise fire away."

"Are you really sleeping with Aunt Stephanie?"

"Me and my big mouth. We share the same bed and the rest is none of your business. Are you sleeping with anyone?"

"OK, I get it."

"I'll talk about sex as long as it doesn't get personal. The same thing goes for you. As I told Julia; my lips are sealed about anything you tell me short of kidnapping or murder plots. Nobody else hears anything we talk about except maybe Stephanie if you don't mind. Parents are out of the loop."

"That's OK, I like Aunt Steph. What's it like to be someone else? I mean, you can pretty much be whoever you want to be, can't you?"

"I suppose that's true in a way, but not as much as you would think. I'm still the same person inside that I always was. It's not like I suddenly threw away all the things I used to like and decided I would love following NASCAR and collecting stamps from South America just because I wanted to be someone different. You don't change the core of who you are so easily."

"But isn't being a girl a big change from being a guy?"

"In many ways it is, but it's surprising how many ways it isn't. What I found is it's more a change in emphasis, a different way of looking at things. I'm still me, but I see things differently and I like what I'm seeing. That and I have to admit I really like the clothes."

"Yeah, you're always wearing dresses and skirts. What a pain!" Well, she was only fifteen after all. "You actually like wearing a bra? For real?"

"I suppose it makes a difference because I want to wear one and you have to wear one."

"Do I ever! Mom could have kept that part of it out of the genes she gave me."

"I'll take a little bit of it if you want to get rid of it, cousin," Julia offered.

"Don't I wish. Mom tells me that they'll be great for keeping the boys interested, but they're a real pain."

"I suppose that's the way of the world, Karen. Julia wants more, you want less and I would be happy with anything. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have real breasts."

"That's funny. I almost forgot you're a guy. What do you put in your bra, water balloons?"

"I bought a pair of breast forms so I would look natural."

"How come you didn't get boobs as big as mine? I thought all guys wanted big boobs."

"Actually, we probably have about the same size breasts; it's just that I'm so much bigger than you that mine look smaller in proportion. I wanted Kate to be an ordinary woman. I don't want men staring at my boobs so I deliberately chose to have a C cup."

"You're lucky. I didn't get any choice about being a D. But doesn't that feel, like, phony having to do it that way?"

"A little bit, but is it any more phony than wearing makeup or a using a corset to make your body look better?"

"Mom won't let me wear makeup yet."

"Good for her! Anyway, you know what I mean. Women have breasts and I don't, so in order to be as much like a woman as I can, I have to have a little help."

"But what makes you want to be a girl in the first place?"

"Let me ask you what you like about being a girl first, Karen."

"Jeez, I don't know. I never thought about it."

"Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be a boy?" I asked

"Sometimes, like at summer camp. It's a real pain to pee in the woods."

"That wasn't exactly what I was thinking of, but I'll admit it's a lot easier to pee in the woods standing up."

"And you don't have to wipe off. Leaves just don't work!"

"Isn't the scout motto 'Be Prepared'? Better have some toilet tissue in your pack. I know I do for when I'm hiking."

"You sound like the counselors."

"Besides peeing, what do you think it would be like to be a boy?"

"Well, I could get to play sports without being called a lez."

"And a guy who takes Home Ec gets called gay. What else?"

"Boys are bigger and stronger."

"Would you like to be bigger or stronger? Would it make your life better?"

"Maybe."

"And maybe not. What else?"

"If I were a guy, I wouldn't have to wait for someone to call me for a date." Julia joined the conversation.

"I take it your Mom doesn't like assertive women?"

"That's not the word she uses. I get frustrated sometimes."

"Anything else different about being a boy?"

"Boys just, like, do things; girls talk about it first."

"And...." I prompted

"Guys can do whatever they want and get away with it; girls have to be ladylike or we get yelled at."

"Do you see a pattern here?" I asked. "Other than being bigger and stronger, most of the differences are about attitude — the way you think about the world and your place in it."

"Cultural expectations," Julia said. "Everyone expects you to act a certain way because of how you were born."

"That's right, Julia. You might find it hard to believe, but things are a lot better now. If my father had tried to dress like a girl, he would have been beaten up by any man who found out, maybe even arrested or committed to a mental institution. If I wanted to dress like a girl as a teenager, my parents would have sent me to a psychiatrist. The idea of Women's Lib was still pretty controversial back then, cultural expectations were still pretty rigid."

"Things are a lot looser today. Your Aunt Stephanie was the one who encouraged me to try to see what being a woman was like. I think Bernie and Lucy like me and it doesn't matter a bit to them what sex I was born. Even Julia's folks are only upset and concerned, not ready to lynch me."

"Is it worth it, Aunt Kate?" Trust a fifteen-year-old to cut to the heart of the matter.

"Yes, it's worth it. I'm a better person because of what I know from being Kate and I never would have fallen in love with your Aunt Stephanie if I hadn't been willing to become a girlfriend she could talk to. I like being Kate very much, girls."

"Are you going to stay Aunt Kate forever?"

"Ask me this fall, child. It's too soon to know if there's more Kate or Stephen hidden in my brain."

"Did you really ask Dad to be your maid of honor?"

"What?!" Now Julia and I were doing the echo routine.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Mom and Dad thought I was asleep last night when they were talking about you."

"I'm not sure I want to hear this, Karen." But I did, Kate was getting too damn polite.

"Don't worry. They like you, Aunt Kate."

"The stuff about him being my maid of honor was just a joke, dear."

"You just haven't had time yet to find out what a weird sense of humor Daddy has. I think he wants to do it just to see what Aunt Deb would do."

"Mom would go into orbit," Julia confirmed. "Daddy is trying to be fair, but Mom doesn't really like you, Aunt Kate. The only reason she hasn't told me to stay away from you is because I haven't given her a chance."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it isn't really a surprise. She tried to tell me to stay away from you, but Stephanie laid down the law with her. I don't really like being in a position where I'm causing a family fight."

"If it wasn't you, it would be something else, Aunt Kate. Mom still thinks she can run my life even after I turned eighteen. I'm glad I'm going away to school next fall or I really couldn't stand it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Julia. I see a lot of that in my freshman students, a big change like that is hard to handle."

"Sort of like changing gender, Aunt Kate?"

"We all have to leave our parents sometime, so everyone who's done it understands what's happening to one degree or another. Gender change is something most people won't understand, but it's guaranteed to be stressful."

"I like the way you always look at both sides of a problem, Aunt Kate."

"Training, Julia. In order to understand a subject, you have to look at it from all angles until you understand the whole. You know that old saw about the blind men and the elephant."

"It can't be just training, it has to be something in you...."

"There you are!" exclaimed Lucy. "We've been looking all over the place!"

"We've been here all along, solving the problems of the world. If you had waited another ten minutes, we would have finished revising the Universe and put our plans into action. Have a cherry."

"Thanks. Do your grand plans include a way to get all the pies baked without any effort?"

"Well, Karen volunteered to pit all the cherries in penance for singing about my underwear."

"Do tell?"

"Aunt Kate hasn't been a lady long enough to know how to climb a ladder yet. I see London, I see France..." piped up my young nemesis.

"And I suppose you were standing under the ladder and looking up completely by accident, young lady?"

"Well...."

"Let's call it a learning experience on both sides before anyone gets into further trouble," I offered.

"We will talk later. We need to be going."

The ride back was subdued. Karen and Julia sat in front with Deb and silence reigned. I could tell that Steph was royally pissed, but this wasn't the place to ask about it. Nor could I when we got back home, there was too much to do for us to disappear so I could find out what was happening.

How to describe that day? In some ways it felt good to be part of a family, to listen to the banter and joking between siblings and their spouses, but the obvious chill when Deb and I were in the same room was disturbing. I was glad to spend a couple of hours riding the lawnmower and tending the hedges in preparation for the crowd tomorrow. As I circled the yard, I watched a little drama play out as Tom and Deb came out and sat on the garden bench. It was obvious they were arguing. Each time I circled around to where I could see them, they got further apart on the bench and their body language was clear even across the yard. Eventually, they weren't there on the bench as the garden came into sight, so I tried to put it out of my mind.

I had no doubt that I was the source of the argument. When I returned to the house, I could feel Deb's eyes drilling into me as I walked through the room. All of us politely managed not to notice her obvious attempts to keep Tony and Julia away from me; no one wanted to cause an incident, but she was far from subtle about it. The odd part was she played the same game with Tom. Who was she shielding from whom — her kids from a perverted man, or her husband from a woman she didn't trust?

I tried to keep my distance from her. Steph tried to be available to be the peacemaker and Bernie kept winking at me. I'm glad someone was enjoying the comedy. When Hilda came, we added another dimension as she tried to figure out what was going on. We made it through dinner with tempers still intact, but we weren't a jolly group.

Hilda set her napkin on the table and looked at the family.

"I haven't had to do this for quite some time, but I feel now is the time to hold a family meeting. We need to get the things that are bothering us out in the open before they fester."

"Children, you may be excused now," announced Deb.

"I'm sorry, Deborah, but they may not be excused." Mother Hilda had iron in her voice. "They are part of this family and need to be part of our discussions."

"Well I...."

Hilda cut her off. "I'm not going to pussyfoot around the issue. Stephanie has chosen to bring Kate into our family The fact that Kate is a man who dresses and behaves like a woman is hard for some of us to accept. I used to include myself in that category, but as I have gotten to know her. She is just the kind of person I want my daughter to be with."

"There is obviously a range of opinions about the propriety of how Kate chooses to live her life. I don't want to presume to know what any of you are thinking, so I would like to go around the table and have each of you honestly tell us all how you feel. I would appreciate it if everyone was able to speak without interruption. There will be time for discussion later. Please remember," she was looking directly at Deb, "that honesty does not mean incivility."

This was a side of Hilda that I hadn't seen before. The formality of her words, the commanding edge to her voice were what might be expected of an Admiral or General addressing their command.

"Lucy?"

"I like Kate, Momma. She's kind and gentle and funny and just the right person for Steph. Can't you see the glow in her eyes when she looks at Kate?"

"Bernard?"

"Hell, I'm going to be her Matron of Honor at her wedding. What more do you want?"

"This is no time for joking, Bernard. Was that a serious answer?

"It was. Matron of Honor or Best Man, I'll be standing next to her when she marries Steph."

"Ben, you may be young yet, but you are part of the family. Do you have anything to offer?"

"Not really, Grandma. I just want you to stop being mad at each other."

"Thank you, Ben. Karen?"

"You guys are all making a big fuss over nothing. If she were gay, would you all be on her case like this?"

"If being gay was the issue, we wouldn't be discussing who your Aunt Stephanie was marrying, would we?"

"Oh."

"Do you have anything else you want to say?" Karen shook her head. "Anthony?"

"I haven't really gotten to know Aunt Kate yet, Grandma. I guess it's pretty weird to think she's really a man, but I can't see it's hurting anybody because of how he dresses. Jeez — I don't know if I should say 'he' or she'?"

"I believe the accepted protocol is to use the pronoun that matches the person's current appearance. 'She' would be correct, Anthony."

Now just where did Hilda find out about that little bit of convention?

"Tom?" Hilda prompted.

"I'm feeling like I'm ten years old right now. I always wanted to hide when Dad went 'round the table.'" He paused. "I'm uncomfortable about Kate. I don't like the idea of a man wearing a woman's clothes, but I will try to be honest and say that may reflect more on my own masculinity than on anything Kate is doing. From what I've seen today, Kate is a kind and loving person. Perhaps when I get to know her better I can say more."

"Deborah, it's your turn."

She took a moment to gather herself and then spoke. "I don't understand what you people can be thinking! This is perverted; it's unnatural. He's a man and he's mocking everything about women. I don't want to be near him and I don't want my children near him. I've had enough of this politically correct crap; I want to go home and not have to pretend that perverts are perfectly all right!"

"I believe you have made your feelings perfectly clear. Julia, do you have anything to contribute?"

"No she doesn't!" announced Deb. "I've had enough of this charade."

"Mother, I do have something to say and I will say it whether you want me to or not!" Deb was shocked speechless at this rebellion. "I'm ashamed at the way you've been insulting Aunt Kate. I know you don't approve of her transgenderism, but that isn't any reason to call her a pervert. I had a long talk with her this morning and she is a perfectly reasonable person who was very open and willing to tell me why she has chosen to be Kate. You haven't spoken three civil words to her all day and yet you think you know so much you can call her a pervert. You're not a pervert, Kate and I want to be your friend if you'll let me."

"Thank you, Julia. I appreciate that very much," I replied. "Deb, I don't want to be a cause for trouble in the family and I'm sorry my choices are so repellant to you, but Stephanie and I have made this choice and this is how we are going to live our lives. If that bothers you so much, I will try to keep my distance as much as possible, but we do have to find a way to let the rest of the family be together without walking on eggshells."

"May I have my turn now?" asked Stephanie. When no one spoke she continued "What Kate said goes for me, too. Right now Kate is the person I need in my life and that's not subject to argument. All I ask is that when you are in OUR home, you remember that I will not tolerate personal insults to anyone in this house. We won't solve this tonight, but I'm glad we got it into the open so we can deal with it. Kate and I have agreed we will answer any questions you want to ask us, so don't just assume you know what we are thinking. I think it's time for bed, Kate. Can we adjourn the meeting, Mother? "

"One more thing. This discussion is a family matter. We will not discuss Kate's gender with anyone at the festival tomorrow. She is a good friend of Stephanie's and that should be sufficient. You grandchildren can call her Aunt Kate just like you call other close friends of your parents Aunt or Uncle."

"One more thing, Mother. I'm engaged to a man named Stephen who couldn't be here for the festival. Just tell people you haven't met him and don't know anything about him. Adjourn the meeting, Mother. We're going to bed."

---

Steph closed the bedroom door firmly and twisted the lock.

"Perverted! That bitch! I'll show her perverted! She threw off her shirt and dropped her pants on the floor in the time it took me to unbutton my dress. I tossed it into the laundry basket and started to remove my breast forms. I started, but didn't get too far because Steph kissed me passionately.

"Leave them in," she commanded as she released me, "and lie down, lover. I want to get perverted."

Steph usually wanted me to be the one to initiate our lovemaking, but tonight was emphatically different. No matter how we related outside the bedroom, it was Stephen who made love to Stephanie, but tonight Stephanie was perversely determined to make love to Kate. She tore my padding out of her way and had me hard in no time, then stayed on top and in control until we were completely satiated.

And she didn't worry about who could hear us. No, that's not right. Stephanie was unusually vocal and she didn't call me 'Stephen' once.

---

I was able to sleep in the next morning, voracious sex will do that for you. I couldn't wait to get dressed up for the party that day and was trying to make up my mind what to wear. How much things had changed in so short a time. As Steve I never got excited about what I was wearing, but as Kate it was truly a joy to pick out an outfit and be able to wear it. All men get to choose is what color tie to wear. How boring!

We played like kids in the bathtub, shaving each other's legs and getting each other distracted. Clad only in fluffy towels, we ran back to the bedroom where I finally decided on a full orange crinkly skirt and a gauzy angel sleeved top. I wore long silver earrings that swayed like pendulums with every move of my head and several jangling bracelets on my arm. Have I mentioned how Kate was completely unable to pass a jewelry counter without buying something?

Although we both usually wore flats because of our height, we had decided that today was a day to go all out and we both wore sparkly, high heeled sandals, mine in gold and Steph's in silver to complement her blue skirt. She had on a low cut blouse that tied in the back and made her large breasts even more prominent. Just to make sure, a large pendant dangled in the deep valley between her breasts. Damn she looked good!

"Damn you look good, girlfriend!" she exclaimed as I finished my mascara. "Let's go and show that bitch how a real woman lives life!"

"Just don't blow the party, hon. We are the class act here, no common vulgarities until we're in bed again, OK?"

"Fuck you!"

"Not now, I don't want to ruin the makeup."

---

Even with all the time it took us to get dressed, we were still the first to show our faces that morning. The party didn't start until noon, so we still had time for a relaxed breakfast. Too bad the family tensions were going to make that impossible.

We had just started banging pots and pans when Tom stumbled into the kitchen. He was still in his pajamas and frankly he looked like hell.

"Tom!" Stephanie cried, "You look like a man in serious need of coffee."

"Coffee, hell, I need a lawyer. Deb and I split last night."

"Tom!"

"It's been coming, sis. Last night was just the proverbial straw. If it wasn't that, it would have been something else."

"But Tom, why didn't you say anything?"

"Did you say anything when Faruq was giving you the shaft?"

"But...."

"I just wish we could have put this off until after the festival. I'm not going to be very good company today."

"What about Deb?"

"She's gone. I don't know where she went, but I can guess who she's with. His name's Dennis Donnelly."

"Oh, Tom, I'm sorry."

"I know, sis. Deb never bothered to figure out Caller ID. It didn't take long to connect calls from him to the nights she was out at a meeting or something. They've been at it for a couple of years now."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Steph, our marriage has been a sham for a long time. I tried to talk about marriage counseling when we started sleeping in separate bedrooms, but she wasn't having any. The only reason I've stayed in the same house with her is for the kids."

"I didn't know. I didn't even suspect."

"And I damn well worked hard to keep it that way. Didn't you when your marriage fell apart?"

"Yeah, if nobody knows maybe you can still fix it."

"It isn't going to get fixed, but I hate the whole business of divorce."

"What about Tony and Julia?"

"After the shouting match we had last night, I expect they're cowering in their bedrooms. If they don't know Deb's gone, they must have suddenly gone deaf."

"But who will they live with?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet. At least Julia is going to school this fall, but I suppose Tony can decide who he wants to stay with as long as this Dennis is willing to let Deb drag her kid along. I have a hard time picturing anyone who would have an affair with a married woman welcoming a teenage boy into his little love nest."

"Tom, if I can do anything to help, all you have to do is ask. And don't go all macho, this is your little sister talking, the one you cried to when you broke up with Sally and the one who pulled splinters out of your butt when you tried to slide down the hay chute."

"Just like you to bring that up, sis. I have lawyers to pull splinters, but they can be a pain in the ass all by themselves."

"Tom, Steph's offer goes for me as well," I told him. "I'm so sorry that my presence has caused you such pain."

"It's not you, Kate. It never was. Like I said, this has been coming a long time. It's kind of ironic that my sister finally finds someone to marry just when I get divorced."

"That's kind of you, Tom, but I still feel sorry. I want to be on good terms with my new family."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're on good terms with me. You may be a little weird, but if Steph likes you then that's enough for now. Look, I'd better get dressed and roust the kids before we end up eating pie in our pajamas."

"I love you, big brother." Stephanie gave him a big hug.

"I love you too, sis. And you too, Kate." His hug was brief, but that he was willing to hug me at all was enough to set me sniffling. Tears and makeup don't mix.

As he left I had one of those thoughts that you don't like to admit. If I could thank Deb for one thing, it would be for relieving me of answering any more questions about crossdressing.

---

Pie Festival? There were plenty of pies, but it would be more apt to call it the Crisis Festival. It got hard to remember who was supposed to know what.

Family knows:
a) Kate is really Steve
b) Steve is marrying Steph
c) Or maybe Kate is
d) Tom and Deb are splitting.

Most everybody else knows:
a) Steph is marrying someone called Steve
b) He's not here today
c) Neither is Deb — don't ask
d) Kate is Steph's old friend here for the festival
e The big trailer is for Kate and Steph to go on vacation together
f) Kate is engaged too and you wouldn't know him
g) Kate's tenant isn't home

My personal list included:
a) Remember that 'my' gardens were now 'the tenant's' gardens
b) Keep my hands off of Stephanie in public
c) Hug Julia whenever possible — she's hurting
d) Get Steph to hug Tony whenever possible
e) Sic Bernie on Tom so he has someone to talk to.

"Oh what a web we weave...." Keeping my mouth shut wasn't an option; this was a curious crowd. One sure way to change the course of the conversation is to ask for a sample of the pie they brought and ask for the recipe. That worked just about every time.

Actually, after a couple of hours the answers started self-replicating and we didn't have to fill everybody in. Somewhere about two in the afternoon, Steph and I had eaten enough pie to dull our interest in the new arrivals. I noticed a good size crowd had gathered under the tent and drifted that way to see what was going on while Steph took time to duck into the bathroom.

Bernie's Uncle Shimon was holding court for his subjects, a benevolent old gentleman with an affable manner. Shimon was a retired furrier from New York City and Bernie claimed he could go on for hours and not use a single story twice. His humor was as bad as Bernie promised. Most of his stuff was funny enough, but the occasional belly-buster made it hard to laugh in a voice suitable to Kate.

"So I'm in this bar, see…" Uncle Shimon starts off. "It's not so fancy-schmancy, but a good place for a couple of beers and maybe a Reuben. The next thing I know, the place goes quiet and I see this woman at the bar. She's dressed in this dark blue power suit with a white blouse just lacy enough to show she's female without losing her place in the corporate food chain. She has a cell phone AND a pager clipped to the Gucci purse over her shoulder and a briefcase in her hand. Well, her bazoobas weren't so brief, if you want to know, and that suit was tailored by someone who knew his business. We all start to speculating as to why she's slumming in this bar, when she looks at the bartender like he was some bug or something and speaks.

'Barkeep, I want a glass of your best twelve-year-old Scotch.'

"Now the lady has a voice like she was English royalty to go along with that power suit, but Maxie the barman, he don't get impressed all that easily. You can see the wheels grinding in his head and I know he just can't resist seeing if the lady knows whereof she speaks. He pours her a glass and hands it to her. As soon as her hand touches the glass, she knows Maxie is running a game on her.

'Barkeep! I distinctly told you twelve-year-old Scotch; this is obviously only three years old.'

"Now Maxie is impressed and all eyes are on the two of them as he fills another glass. Now Maxie is going to milk this for all he can get, so it don't surprise me when she takes one sniff and frowns.

'Barkeep! Is it your usual habit to ignore your customers' wishes in so blatant a manner? This swill is only five years old!'

"You can see the battle has been joined and Maxie tests her at eight and ten years and she nails him every time. Finally, he gives her the twelve-year-old stuff and she knocks it off in one swallow and asks for more. Well, while Maxie fills her up again old Charlie, who has been getting blind drunk all afternoon, starts to feel his way down the bar in Braille until he pulls up beside her.

'Lady, that was shrimply marv, uh, marv-a, uh, wunnaful the way you know your booze.'

"She backs off from the fumes, but you can see she is inordinately proud of her taste buds and will accept the compliment despite the source.

'Well, I do fancy myself somewhat of a connoisseur, my good man.' she replies.

'Here, try this.' and Charlie hands her a glass.

"Now for the first time she seems unsure of the pedigree of the booze, but she knocks it back and then spits it out and sprays Charlie and everybody within ten feet.

'My God, that's urine!' she screams.

'Yeah,' says Charlie, 'but how old am I?'"

See why I had a hard time with my voice? I settled into an open chair and listened.

"This couple had been married for years and argued every minute of the time. When the husband finally died, his wife put the usual death notice in the paper, but added that he died of gonorrhea. No sooner were the papers delivered when a friend of the family phoned and complained bitterly, 'You know very well that he died of diarrhea, not gonorrhea.'

"The widow just says, 'I nursed him night and day, so of course I know he died of diarrhea, but I thought it would be better for posterity to remember him as a great lover rather than the big shit he really was.'"

"Have you heard the one about the Irish woman who was dying?" asked a voice near me.

All eyes turned to a slim black man who had settled unnoticed in the chair next to me while Uncle Shimon was holding forth. He was colorfully dressed in traditional African garb and had a wide grin on his face. While the rest to the crowd waited expectantly, I practically swallowed my tonsils. Would these crises ever end?

The man sitting next to me was none other than Cliff, a fellow professor from the college. I knew him casually as the force behind the school's drumming club. I had heard him hold forth before and knew Uncle Shimon was about to get a run for his money. I was well and truly trapped, I could hardly get up and walk away just as he started his story without attracting a great deal of attention, but I certainly didn't want to be sitting two feet from someone who knew me in my other life!

"Sadly, a beautiful woman lay on her death bed far before her time," Cliff starts out. "Her husband and the priest are attending her in her last minutes on the earth. She turns to her husband and struggles mightily to speak.

'Husband, I want you to promise before the good Father that you will remain faithful to our love and never remarry.'

"The husband is shocked and hesitates in his answer, not knowing what to say in his grief at losing his beloved wife.

'Husband, if you ever remarry then with these two hands,' the poor woman weakly raised her hands into the air, 'I will claw my way out of the casket and through the dark and dank ground to the top of my very grave and return to haunt you for the rest of your days.'

"The poor man was shocked and finally agreed to the woman's plea. She was but moments from passing and he didn't have the heart to see her die in anger. The priest performed the Last Rights and left the grief-stricken husband after consoling him the best he could. The poor priest was completely agitated by the affair and stopped at the pub to ease his anguish. By the end of the evening, the entire town knew of the curse the woman had put on her husband."

"Time passed and after a decent period of grief, the widower began to think of having a new woman in his life, but not one woman in the town would have anything to do with him, having heard of the curse. Eventually he courted a fair colleen from a town down the road and who accepted his suit. They were to be married at her church in a quiet ceremony, but to his distress virtually every soul in his hometown attended the ceremony, breathlessly waiting to see if the curse would come true."

"They stood before the priest who charged them according to the canons, but when he got to the part where he asked if anyone knew of a reason the wedding should not proceed there was a gasp of anticipation. Finally, one old woman, the most enthusiastic gossip of the town, arose."

'Have ye not told the poor girl of the curse laid upon ye? Did not your dear, departed wife threaten to claw through her coffin and dig her way out of the sacred earth to the top of her grave and haunt you and your bride if you should remarry?'

"The sanctuary was completely silent as the man turned to his bride and spoke."

'I'd not be worrying about any curse, me love. I buried her face down. She must be fair halfway to China by now.'"

It was clear the gauntlet had been thrown; two titans of their craft were engaged in battle. I had hardly risen from my chair, attempting to put as much space between Cliff and myself as possible when Shimon counterattacked.

"A funeral service is being held for a woman who has just passed away. At the end of the service the pallbearers are carrying the casket out when they accidentally bump into a wall, jarring the casket. They hear a faint moan from the casket. Hastily, they open it and find that the woman is actually alive! She lives for ten more years and then dies."

"Once again, a ceremony is held and, at the end of it, the pallbearers are again carrying out the casket. As they carry the casket towards the door the husband cries out, 'For God's sake! Watch that wall'!"

I got out before anyone could notice me. There were screaming kids in the hayloft, bocce and badminton on the lawn and groups of people chatting under the shade of the old trees. There must have been fifty or sixty people by now; this was certainly a major event. Despite the frivolity, one lone figure sat all alone in a chair on the front porch — Tom, alone in his grief. I don't know why I did it, but I made my way to him, hearing the frivolity fade behind me as I walked and place my hands on his hunched shoulders.

They were hard as iron, so I gently began to massage them. He was so far into his pain that he didn't even turn to see who was there. I continued to work on his knotted muscles until he sighed and made himself relax. I had learned massage long ago with the woman who I didn't follow to California. It started with a book on erotic massage (anything with erotic in the title would have been fine for us), but eventually I took some of the basic classes in massage therapy at one of the schools where I had taught. I wasn't an expert, but I was no novice either.

You know when you're effective when your subject makes little sounds or sighs, then you can home in on where it is doing them the most good. Tom wasn't the most vocal I had ever known, but he clearly was relaxing and enjoying the rub. I gave him a good thirty minutes; he certainly needed it.

"Do I dare turn around and see which angel from heaven has been ministering to me?" he asked at last.

"I hope when you find out it won't undo all the good I've done. It's Kate, Tom."

Naturally he immediately tensed, but I wasn't going to leave it at that.

"Relax. This is a gift from a friend. I hope we can be friends as well as family." My hands dug into his shoulder blades. "Learning to accept a favor can be harder than giving, you know."

"Ugh." He started to relax again.

"Do you want company or should I just fade away?"

"Stay, I'll get maudlin if I think too much."

"You the type that drowns your sorrows in a couple or six beers?"

"Sorrow can hold her breath longer than I can hold her head under a keg, but a cold one wouldn't hurt."

"Hold on, I'll be back."

I went to the kitchen and got a couple of bottles. Jeez, I was becoming a maid — I put them on a tray with a bowl of snacks and brought them out to the porch. Tom took a long swallow and set the bottle down with a thud.

"How are the kids taking it?" I asked as he settled back.

"Better than I thought they would."

I studied him in silence, hoping he would elaborate.

"Actually, Tony told me they had been expecting it for quite a while now. Damn kids could see what I didn't want to look at."

"Sometimes it's hard to realize what's happening when you're in the middle of it. You get caught up in doing things the way you've always done them, without realizing how badly they work. Kids are good at spotting that sort of thing; they haven't had time to develop the habits, so they don't carry any baggage to compare them to. It still amazes me at the insights my students can have on a piece of literature I thought I had down cold."

"It's pretty easy to see, now that it's out in the open. Hell, when she started cheating I should have admitted we were in trouble, but I just let it slide. I still think of her as the girl I married, not as the woman she's become."

"Maybe that's good. If you can't put it back together, then I hope you won't get into one of those ugly dogfights in court. That's another thing I've seen too much of in my students, one parent who teaches them to hate the other parent. Everybody loses that way."

"You saw what she's become last night, Kate. Intolerant, unforgiving, if it isn't her way then it's wrong. She wasn't like that when I married her."

"We all change, Tom. Tell me what she was like when you married her, what made her special?

"You really want to know?"

"I do. Help me see what made you fall in love with her."

"I met her in college. She was a sophisticated city girl and I was a bumpkin from a dairy farm. I had a real problem with being from a farm; I thought what I saw in the movies was what life was really all about — fancy clothes, fast cars, being cool, money… lots of money. You don't get rich on a family farm. I was embarrassed to have any of my friends meet my dad, sure they could see the cow flop on his boots."

"That's what made me do flip flops when Deb noticed me. She was the woman I saw in all those movies and she didn't seem to notice I was a backwater farm boy. We dated and went to rock concerts and wild parties. She always got noticed and I caught the reflected glory. Like you said, I can see that now, but back then I thought it made me sophisticated just being with her."

"There must have been something more than parties and concerts that attracted you." I prompted.

"She was smart, she was beautiful, she knew her way around. Dammit, she was good in bed. She was my first and I never had anyone else."

"Not many people can say that these days, Tom. So why did you get married."

"She got pregnant. Screwed up taking her pills, although sometimes I wonder if it wasn't deliberate. I had my business degree and got recruited by an upstart tech firm, the future looked good. A few years later they closed; they guessed wrong about how the PC would change things. Deb stayed home and raised babies and I brought home the paycheck. We never starved, but we never hit the big time, either. Pretty sad picture, isn't it?"

"We all get caught up in our expectations, don't we? I don't want to offend you, Tom, but have you noticed that even when I asked you to tell me something good about Deb as a person you couldn't do it?"

"Maybe you're right. Something was missing, but I never noticed it."

"Happens all too often, Tom. Being part of a real relationship is a tough job, men aren't encouraged to think like that."

"And you would know, right?" he said sarcastically.

"I'm not trying to say anything that hasn't been said before. I've been reasonably happy my whole life, but I don't have anyone I could call a close friend. I never got married, either. It didn't seem to matter until I looked at it through Kate's eyes. That doesn't mean you have to dress up like a woman to solve your problems. That's my solution, not yours."

"Somehow I don't think you'll ever convince me to join you. Now Bernie, he's crazy enough...."

"This is getting out of hand, Tom. Every time I make a joke it comes true. Anyway, think about it, Tom. I'm not a shrink and I've never been married, but if you and Deb have any hope of making your marriage work, you both need to discover who you are inside."

'This is getting to sound like a New Age encounter session."

"I told Julia that preaching comes all to easy to college professors."

Just then the door to the house opened and Stephanie came out.

"There you are! I wondered where you had gotten off to. You should get over to the dinner tent and give a listen to the Vaudeville act over there."

"Cliff and Uncle Shimon still going at it?" As if I had to ask.

"Sure thing. Come on and be sociable, girlfriend."

"Join us, Tom?" I asked.

"Well...."

We solved it by each taking a hand and escorting him to the scene of the battle. Shimon must have just delivered a punch line as we got there, because everybody groaned loudly. At least I hope it was the punch line and not us that caused the groan. We settled in to some empty chairs and listened as Cliff started off.

A judge was interviewing a woman regarding her pending divorce and asked, "What are the grounds for your divorce?"

She replied, "About four acres and a nice little home in the middle of the property with a stream running by."

"No," he said, "I mean what is the foundation of this case?"

"It is made of concrete, brick and mortar," she responded.

"I mean," he tried again, "what are your relations like?"

"I have an aunt and uncle living here in town and so do my husband's parents."

The judge said, "Do you have a real grudge?"

"No," she replied, "We have a two-car carport and have never really needed one."

"Please," he tried again, "is there any infidelity in your marriage?"

"Yes, both my son and daughter have stereo sets. We don't necessarily like the music, but the answer to your question is yes."

"Ma'am, does your husband ever beat you up?"

"Yes," she responded, "about twice a week he gets up earlier than I do
."
Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, "Lady, why do you want a divorce?"

"Oh, I don't want a divorce," she replied. "I've never wanted a divorce. My husband does. He says he can't communicate with me."

With a twinkle in his eye, Shimon looked expectantly at Cliff, who was safely on the other side of the crowd from me.

A Jamaican man bought a round of drinks for everyone in the bar, announcing that his wife had just given birth to "a typical Jamaican baby boy weighing 20 pounds."

Congratulations showered him from all around and many exclamations of "Wow!" were heard. A woman fainted due to sympathy pains.

Two weeks later, he returned to the bar. The bartender said, "Say, you're the father of the baby who weighed 20 pounds at birth. How much does he weigh now?"

The proud father answered, "Fifteen pounds."

The bartender was puzzled. "What happened? He weighed 20 pounds at birth?"

The Jamaican father takes a slow sip from his Red Stripe beer, wipes his lips on his shirtsleeve, leans into the bartender and says, "Had him circumcised."

That reminds me of the time my friend, a married man, was visiting his mistress. She's got him on the bed about to do what he came to do when she whispers, "Oh James, I like your beard, but I would really love to see your handsome face."

James replies, "My wife loves this beard, I couldn't possibly do it, she would kill me!!"

"Oh please?" the mistress asks in a sexy little voice and kind of illustrates what is waiting for him if he does. The poor man is torn. It's a hard choice to make, if you know what I mean.

"Oh really, I can't," he replies. "My wife loves this beard!!"

She makes it clear without a word being spoken how much she wants him to shave and what will happen if he doesn't. The poor schmuck finally gives in and she shows him how happy she is about it. Several times.

That night James crawls into bed with his wife while she's sleeping. She starts to wake up, feels his face and says, "Oh Michael, you shouldn't be here! My husband will be home soon!"

Odd how infidelity can be funny if you're not involved. Poor Tom didn't appreciate the joke. Somewhere around then the warm day, gentle breeze and all the excitement of the past few days caught up with me and I nodded out in the comfortable lounge chair while the stories flew above my head. I'm sorry I missed them but sometimes life is like that.

It was the smell of the hamburgers that woke me. The battle of wits must have been adjourned for dinner, because the crowd was no longer surrounding me. I toddled inside and took the opportunity to re-do my makeup for the evening.

I returned to the party and made myself sociable. I was introduced to Hilda's brothers and sisters and their various offspring whenever one got close enough to me for Stephanie to point them out, had a hamburger for form's sake before loading my plate with pie again and felt very smug that I had left the waist cincher in the dresser drawer.

I floated in and out of conversations with dozens of people, sometimes with Steph, sometimes with Hilda, mostly by myself. That was the downside to being Kate tonight, I couldn't hold hands with my lady and let the world know we were a couple. In all honesty, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice; I didn't feel the need to have her as exclusive property and there were an awful lot of interesting people to visit with.

After we had a little time to let dinner settle, the musicians broke out their instruments for the dance. I have never been a dancer, it just doesn't interest me, but I learned to square dance that night. Line dance, too. Which is pretty much the same except you are in a long line instead if an eight-person square.

The good part is that two women dancing together is pretty much normal, so Stephanie could be my partner without anyone wondering what was going on. Even though I fumbled and bumbled as I learned what allemandes and do-si-does were, I had a great time. Dancing in a skirt is a heavenly experience, moving in circles feeling my forms bounce in my bra was even better. The thought of having real breasts again floated through my mind as I wondered how they would feel. I have never felt more alive and feminine than when dancing, Kate was my entire being for as long as the music played.

Even though I wanted to dance with Steph all evening, I found myself partnered with several men. It felt funny at first, but line dancing is not a contact sport. You don't touch your partner much more than you touch all the other people in the line. Tom was a pretty good dancer, but Bernie was hopeless.

The sun set, but the lights that the men had strung around the yard while we picked cherries kept the party going. A roaring blaze attracted most of the younger types, but I'll never understand how any of them had room for s'mores after all that pie! I was glad of my nap, because the last diehards didn't leave until two in the morning.

Steph and I crawled into bed completely wiped out, but very happy. It had been quite a day.

"Still want to get married after all the family crises, lover?" Stephanie murmured into my ear.

"Is this what it's like having brothers and sisters?"

"Pretty mild, I'd say. You should have been around when we were kids. You and Tom spent a long time together this afternoon. What happened?"

"Would you believe a massage? He looked so miserable and lonely I just started rubbing until he relaxed."

"Mmmm. Since you got in some practice time you could put it to good use." She rolled over on her stomach. "How did he take it?"

"He didn't know who was rubbing him until he was relaxed. Actually, we had a good talk. Funny how after being married all those years he couldn't really tell me much about what made her a person worth marrying. Let's not get to where we can't appreciate each other, Steph."

"Mmmph."

I should know better than to ask for an answer when her head is buried in a pillow. I think that sounded like she agreed.

"At least nobody seemed to notice I was anything out of the ordinary. I had a bad moment when Cliff sat next to me."

She lifted her head from the pillow.

"Haven't you realized that you are a woman, despite your genetic handicap? You don't just act like a woman, you think like a woman. Nobody noticed because you were the real you this afternoon."

"You don't say? I have a bit of a problem trying to grasp that, but you might be right."

"Of course I'm right. A little more to the left, please."

I couldn't help but wondering where all this was taking me.

Kate, Part 4 Tales of Family and Friendship By Ricky

Sunday dawned bright and clear, but I had to take that on faith since Steph and I slept through it. We awoke rested and happy that morning. Only the sounds of Tom and the kids kept us from staying in bed and enjoying each other for a little while longer.

Having other people in the house complicates life for a crossdresser. The bathroom is down the hall from our bedroom, so I had to leave my sleeping bra and nightgown on as I made for the shower instead of running unclothed down the hall as I usually did. I covered the distance to the bathroom as quickly as I could and then removed the bra. As I showered some lines from Robert Burns went through my mind: "Oh, would some power the gift give us / to see ourselves as others see us! / It would from many a blunder free us."

I just hoped I wasn't making a blunder in embracing life as Kate.

Showered and (hallelujah for electrolysis!) unshaved, returned to the bedroom and took the first bra I found from the drawer. It was powder blue, so I let that dictate my outfit for the day - a T-shirt with a blue rose and a blue checked skirt with a country sort of flavor to it. As I put on a pair of white sneakers, I paused to wonder what my mother would have thought of her daughter wearing sneakers with a skirt. You see it all the time these days, but she would have been scandalized. Then again, she would have been scandalized to see me wearing a skirt.

Breakfast was waiting when we were dressed, with Tony at the waffle iron and Julia putting the finishing touches on a fruit salad. Tom was reading the paper with a steaming cup of coffee close to hand.

"Very nice!" commented Stephanie. "Do you hire out by the week? I could get used to having breakfast waiting when I wake up."

"We're cheaper by the month and we guarantee to beat any price Aunt Lucy's catering offers by 10%," announced Tony.

"Who's talking about money? I was thinking along the lines of slave labor."

"OK, 20% discount for family but not a penny less," countered Julia

"Tom, you're raising a couple of robber barons."

"Hey, I'm their agent and get 10%. You think I'm going to let them cut their prices too much?"

"Sorry to break it to you, Daddy," Julia replied, "but you're fired. We do our own negotiating now. Ten percent? Highway robbery!"

"Hey, Aunt Kate, you want to make us an offer? You're not a cheapskate like Aunt Steph, are you?" Tony asked.

"No comment! Besides, we're going on vacation."

"We'll come with you; there's enough room in that house on wheels you bought," Tony offered.

"We love camping!" Julia enthused.

"We'd even do the dishes and walk the dog for you," Tony offered.

"We don't have a dog."

"You could get one and then we could walk him."

"Do you do windows?

"And Mac and Unix and I'm learning C#," boasted Tony.

"Huh?" Stephanie was confused.

"That's a computer joke, Sis." answered Tom. "We're too old to understand computers. Children, give your aunts a break and let them eat breakfast before you whipsaw them with your snappy repartee."

"Snappy repartee, brother?" You trying to take over from Kate as the English professor?"

"Just displaying my erudition, dear sister."

"Please, I don't want to lose this marvelous breakfast." In one of those moments of lightning unspoken communication, Steph raised her eyebrows at me and I shrugged back indicating my assent. "Are you two serious about coming with us or are you just giving us grief?" she asked.

It was Tony and Julia's turn for some unspoken communication and the result was clear. Julia acted as the spokesperson. "We'd love to go if it's all right with you both. We really would help out and wouldn't get in the way. It's been a long time since we got to see you, Aunt Steph."

"Not to be gauche, guys, but are you going to be comfortable living in a trailer with me? My illusion of femininity won't hold up in such close quarters," I pointed out. Robert Burns be damned!

"It couldn't be any worse than seeing my sister in the morning," cracked Tony.

"You are what you are, Aunt Kate. It won't bother me," Julia replied. "Besides, after my dear brother's smelly sweat socks, nothing could shock me."

"Do I get a vote in this?" queried Tom.

"Oh Dad!" they said in unison.

"I'm not going to worry too much about it, but I think your mother is going to have some rather strong objections to this plan."

The mood shifted very quickly. We had all pretty much ignored Deb's existence since she stormed out. It was time to go back to reality after the holiday weekend.

"Have you heard from Mom? Julia asked.

"No, I haven't. I don't know where she is right now. I tried calling home but nobody answers."

"What are you going to do?"

"Talk to her when she comes back. Try to see if we can get some help. We obviously aren't doing too well on our own. I'm sorry that you guys have to go through all this, I don't want to hurt you. I want you both to remember that this is our problem; you didn't cause it and you can't cure it. I don't want you feeling guilty about our problems."

"I love you, Daddy." Julia gave her father a kiss. "Even my big lunk of a brother loves you, but he's too slow to say it."

"Thanks, Julia," Tony deadpanned. "I love you too."

"I'll bet. Daddy, even if you and Mom don't make it, we'll still love you both. Don't you feel guilty if you can't be the person Mom needs. You're cool the way you are."

"Maybe you should take up Social Work in college, Julia. You sound like a therapist already."

"You pay me a hundred bucks an hour and I'll give you all the advice you need, Pops. Worth every penny, too."

"Looks like it's a good thing you're going off with your aunts; I can't afford to keep you around the house at those rates."

"You mean we can go?"

"If my sister is crazy enough to put up with you, then I'll handle your mother when she finds out."

"Can we go with you, Aunt Steph? Please?" they begged.

Steph cast another inquiring glance at me before she answered.

"What the heck?" I mused out loud. "I wouldn't mind not having to wash dishes for a couple of weeks. You're in, guys. You just have to be quick about packing, because we want to have camp set up before dark."

---

Getting ready for the vacation had taken a lot more than I had reckoned. In the past I had thrown a suitcase and the camping gear into the car and that was about it. Most campgrounds had laundries, so all I’d needed was a few days’ clothes and a pocket full of quarters. I could last indefinitely while hanging out and communing with the woods.

Over the years I added some new equipment, like the platform air mattress that folded up into a package no bigger than the tent. Getting up from the ground wasn't quite as easy as it once was and I appreciated the comfort of the raised bed. At some point I had come to appreciate an electric griddle and coffeemaker over cooking on the campfire from the logs I had chopped from the surrounding woods. As long as there was electricity, one of those new, small heaters was just the thing for a cold night. In other words, I liked my comfort but even these additions left room in the car (or now the pickup) for a passenger and a little bit of elbowroom.

It was different this year. The plan was not so much to commune with nature as to be a tourist with a mobile motel room. When we had gone looking at trailers, closet space had been a major issue, Kate was going to need clothes for restaurants, tourist attractions and maybe the Shaw Festival as well as camping. We finally ended up with one a lot bigger than we had anticipated, but it was spacious enough for everything we wanted. Primitive camping this was not — the queen bed and the air conditioner had been the deciding factors in the one we finally bought.

It didn't take long to pack up and go that morning; Bernie's caterers would take care of the tent and chairs and what cleanup remained, which wasn't much because the festival crowd had been amazingly careful about keeping the place clean. We just had to move the perishables from the house to the fridge in the trailer and lock the door.

Since Deb had taken off with the family car, Tom and the kids rode with us. Although we could all have fit into the club cab of the pickup, Tom and the kids rode in the trailer while with Steph and I were in the pickup cab. There was probably some kind of law saying you couldn't do that, but none of us particularly gave a damn. Besides, the three of them needed some time to themselves to discuss what was going to happen in their family. The bustle of the Pie Festival hadn't allowed any time for serious discussions.

Speaking of which, Steph and I had our own serious discussion as we cruised down the Thruway toward Buffalo, trying to sort out the practicalities of our impetuous decision to take the kids with us. It wasn't like we were planning two weeks of uninhibited lovemaking (we were over that first rush of sex after a long hiatus), but we were a bit wistful about having to be discreet in our activities.

The landscape was conducive to such thoughts. During my time at a small college in rural Pennsylvania, the locals had derisively referred to anyone from outside the area as a 'flatlander.' At the time I had simply accepted the designation without much thought; it was just one of the local peculiarities, of which there were many. It wasn't until I ended up in Brockport that I realized the truth of the matter. The part of Pennsylvania where I had lived was all lush, green valleys; wherever you went there was always a hill of trees in front of you. Up here the land was flat (surprise!); you could see off into the distance. Sure there were little undulations, but we're talking drainage ditches as opposed to thousand foot hills.

With the cruise control set on 70 (5 miles over the limit because in NY they hit you for speeding at 10 miles over), we cruised down a long ribbon of concrete while the engine never once had to strain or downshift to get us up a hill along the Thruway to Buffalo. There were trees and farm fields in profusion and even a vast expanse of sod farm — now that's flat land.

We spent much of the trip thinking of the details of maintaining Kate with close company and that made me wonder why I had agreed to live with two teenagers. While our bedroom had a door, you had to enter it through the small bathroom. With the kids sleeping on the slide out beds in the kitchen area, they were going to see beyond the veil of illusion that was Kate's physical manifestation on an intimate basis. Spiritually, I doubted I would ever be anyone but Kate again, but body and soul were not in complete alignment.

On the other side of the picture, Julia was a fine looking young woman whose charms I could appreciate. My heart may have belonged to Stephanie, but my eyes were working quite well, thank you. Part of me hoped she preferred utilitarian sleepwear, but part of me hoped for sheer fabrics and delightfully obscured details.

I guess my soul wasn't completely female after all. The question was, just how female was it? It was hard to believe that it had only been a few months since becoming Kate full time, but I felt more comfortable and complete than I had ever been in my life. The idea of returning to being Steve was disquieting.

Was I crazy to be contemplating such a great change after such a short time? Again, the desire for real breasts crept into my mind -- to be able to know what a born woman felt when wearing a bra. That would be a blessing.

Blessing? Hadn't used that word in a long time, not since I decided the church was not for me. Hadn't thought much about the soul either, but I was realizing that what passed for my soul was that of a woman. Nothing like upheaval in your life to start you thinking about the divine.

Steph and I kept a companionable silence as the truck ate up the miles. We hadn't been alone and unhurried in some time and it felt good just to let go for a while. At last, Steph broke the silence.

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Kate?"

"Trouble, my dear. The common state and constant affliction of humanity."

"I'm glad you cleared that up. When Deb sends the sheriff to haul us away for child abuse or something, at least I'll know what's happening. Why did we agree to something so crazy?"

"Because you love your family and they're great kids who are about to go through a very traumatic time with their parents. Other than warping their sexuality by living with a man who thinks he's better off as a woman, what could go wrong?"

"Julia could go butch just to balance things out?"

"And Tony will miraculously decide he's a crossdresser so we can all go shopping together at the Mall."

"I hate to break it to you, but there aren't any malls in the park or in Salamanca."

"Darn! Maybe I should turn around so we can stop at that monster mall we just passed."

"No, to get there, you get off at the next exit. To go to hell in a hand basket you keep going straight ahead."

"Aye, captain! Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes, consequences or pissed off mothers!"

Following her directions, we safely reached Tom's home and pulled up in front of a suburban house indistinguishable from all the other suburban houses surrounding it. Flat land and flat architecture — how did people stand living in places like this? Steph and I stayed in the pickup just in case Deb was at home, so we wouldn't be the cause of any problems. I felt almost furtive, although how anyone could be furtive in a club cab pickup dragging a monster trailer behind them was beyond my comprehension. In any case, we cuddled up and listened to the CD player while the air conditioner kept the July heat at bay.

Twenty minutes later, the kids came out of the house with their suitcases and we said our goodbyes to Tom. Following Steph's directions, we headed South on Route 219. There the land began to change as we entered hill country. Steph said they were the Boston Hills, logical because they were around Boston, NY, but she had no idea how they came by the name. Probably some frontiersman longing for baked beans and codfish when he settled the town.

By the time the road changed from expressway to two lane I felt a sense of satisfaction and peace. I hadn't realized how much I had grown to love the hills of Pennsylvania until that moment. It was a beautiful drive through the green, wooded hills and through picturesque little towns. Ellicottville, home to a large ski resort and country club, tried hard to make you think of an Alpine village but even I wouldn't compare these hills to the Alps.

When we got to Salamanca, you couldn't miss the modern, green highway signs directing us to the expressway and the park, but Stephanie told me to ignore them and just keep on driving straight ahead into the old entrance. We wound our way up the hill slowly, in deference to the trailer we were hauling, stopped at the park gate, then continued up the hill.

Living in rural Pennsylvania had given me an appreciation for country life, but the quiet beauty of the old road through the forest was a deeply spiritual experience. The children were silent with awe and Steph moved a little closer on the seat. I felt at one with nature in that place, the sunlight piercing the tops of the trees and dancing off the meadows. Stone bridges and culverts dotted the roadside, built during the depression by the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) and still standing unchanged. Oddly, it was the strap of the seatbelt between my breasts that suddenly made me aware of how intensely feminine I felt in this beautiful landscape. Once again, I longed for real breasts, not the poor substitute of the forms I wore.

"Look! A deer!"

Tony's cry broke my reverie and I saw a deer standing by the side of the road. I slowed the pickup so we could watch just as she bounded across the road, followed by two fawns a moment later.

"They're so beautiful!" cried Julia.

"Aren't they?" replied Stephanie. "You'll get to see lots of animals while we're here. Too bad most of the raccoons are gone these days; they used to come begging every night and they were so funny."

"What happened?"

"Rabies. A lot of them died off, so you don't see them as much these days. Which reminds me, don't try to touch any of the animals; they're wild and you don't want to have rabies shots."

"That's so sad. Why do things like that have to happen?"

"It's the way life works, honey. The good and the bad come together, so you have to get used to both."

With that bit of philosophy, we crested the final hill and descended into the valley. Driving around the lake, we found the campground and checked in. I backed the camper into position with Steph acting as monback, waving her arms like a runway attendant, then shut off the motor. (The official title for the person directing a backing vehicle is the "monback." They just wave their hands and keep calling, "'C'mon back, c'mon back.")

"Wheet-Whew!" the wolf whistle came through the cab's window. A wolf whistle? For me? Now there's something I had never expected.

"Thank you," I replied. No sense in starting anything; he probably meant well. "You should see me with a semi — piece of cake!"

Yeah, right. I'd never done anything like driving a big truck in my life until I found myself with a trailer, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I got out, being particularly careful of how I did so with the guy watching me. Good thing I had a long, gauzy skirt on, so I didn't have to worry overmuch about what I did with my knees.

I'm not sure what got into me, but as I stood and stretched my body, working the kinks out after a couple of hours driving, I deliberately thrust out my chest as I did so. Our neighbor got a good look at my phony tits. If he only knew! I could tell he appreciated the view and felt the power a woman has over a man for the first time. OK, I shouldn't have enjoyed it so much, but there was a delicious sense of power in flaunting my body.

"Looks like we got some great weather for camping. It always seems to rain when I go on vacation." I told my admirer. "I'm Kate, by the way."

"Charlie. Charlie Graves. The weather report says it won't rain for a while, so you're safe, ma'am."

Safe from what? Not from him, I had the feeling. Especially a woman as strange as me.

"Meeting the neighbors, Kate?" Steph came up behind me and put her arm around my waist in an unmistakable gesture. Poor Charlie about had a kitten when the light went on in his fuzzy little head.

"Charlie, meet my partner, Steph," I replied. Since Charlie seemed to have temporarily lost the capacity for speech, I spoke for him. "This is our neighbor, Charlie. He seems to appreciate someone who can maneuver a long object into a tight space, eh Charlie?"

Nasty, nasty! Maybe Charlie wasn't as dumb as I thought; he got the innuendo right away. I had better control myself, or I would be the one with a problem.

"We better show the kids how to set up the legs on the trailer. Nice meeting you, Charlie."

Taking Steph's hand in mine, we left our bemused neighbor and started setting up camp.

"Damn girl!" Steph exclaimed, "Where'd you learn to be such a troublemaker?"

"From you, lover! What happened to the 'two friends on vacation' scenario?"

"The way he was looking at you made me realize I don't want to spend the summer pretending we aren't in love."

"Good point. What about the kids?"

"If they can handle you as a woman, why can't they handle us as lovers both inside and outside the trailer?"

"Logic — kids don't operate on logic, my love."

"Neither do I, so who cares. Give me a kiss so there's no doubt in anyone's mind."

I complied, then we got to work setting up camp. By the time we'd set up the outdoor kitchen and finished dinner, the light was starting to wane. Too restless to just sit around the camp, we decided to take a walk around the campground and see what was happening.

The first thing we learned was that there were lot of kids with bikes whizzing around the place. The skateboarders were enthusiastically practicing their hobby, we had to look sharp to avoid a collision. It also seemed like every person in the campground had brought a dog with them. We were greeted by a continuing chorus as we strolled along the road. In the recreation area, we found a list of events for the following week — we sure wouldn't lack for things to do while we were here.

"What's an 'Owl Walk', Aunt Steph?" asked Tony.

"You open your eyes wide, flap your arms and walk like this!" Steph started moving with a rolling, bowlegged gait. "Who! Who! Whoooo...."

"I hadda open my big mouth."

"Hey — my second graders think that's a hoot!"

"Ouch! Aunt Kate? Any chance we can leave her at those Bear Caves on Tuesday when they have the hike?"

"Sorry, I don't get bare in public these days, Tony."

"Jeez. I won't even ask about the Beaver Walk, then."

"Yeah, let's try that one, Aunt Steph!" Julia challenged.

"Dam-ed if I will, children!"

We went on like that for a while longer, but I will be merciful and not inflict the rest of the conversation on you. We were giggling happily on our way back, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. As we passed one campsite with a great, blazing fire, a beautiful golden retriever came hurtling at us trailing her leash behind her. Before I knew what had happened, I was roped and thrown like a steer at the rodeo. As I lay in the dirt, I felt a soft, wet tongue licking my face.

Something else was wrong; I felt unbalanced even if I was lying down. One of my breast forms was missing! Desperately, I felt around near me, trying to find the errant form as I lay on the road. At last I found it, but it was gritty with the road dust. There was no time to be fussy, I swatted the dirt from it and frantically reached under my blouse as I heard several voices approaching, but the angle was too awkward. Lying on the ground, I couldn't manage to pull my bra away from my chest far enough to get the form back in.

"Lucy! Come here!"

The command came a bit too late; Lucy was already sniffing my breast as I tried to put it back in. With very little choice in the matter, I pulled myself into a sitting position. Although I knew it would be hard to see what was happening in the semi-darkness of the campground it still felt like the desert sun was burning down on me, it's pitiless light revealing every detail of my embarrassment.

I finally got the errant blob of silicone in it's proper place as the earth shook to giant, pounding footsteps. Well OK, they were the normal footsteps of a slim, blonde woman, but my hearing was on hyperdrive at the moment. She had a great deal to say to the dog, but since she said it in a mixture of German and English, I'm unable to reproduce it here. There was, however, no doubt that poor Lucy was in big trouble.

"Hello, puppy!" I gasped. The dog stopped nuzzling my breasts as her owner made her displeasure known. Apologizing profusely, the woman helped me to my feet.

"I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? I'm so sorry!"

"Just my pride, I think," I replied as I vainly tried to brush the dust off my clothes. Despite the scolding, Lucy's tail was still wagging furiously. "Don't be too hard on the poor dog, she was only trying to be friendly."

"Lucy, you are soooooo dead! Sit! Sit!" she commanded. Lucy sat but continued to raise a cloud of dust with her tail as it furiously swept the dirt.

"Oh Lucy, you're in big trouble now!" That last from a large man in a faded flannel shirt despite the warm evening. He had a shock of gray hair, a short mustache and a guitar in his hand.

"Please, I'm perfectly fine. Don't yell at poor Lucy; she just wanted to make friends. Didn't you, Lucy?

"Is that what a rodeo cowboy is trying to do when he hogties a steer? If you weren't human, I think Lucy could have set a new record in calf roping," the man commented.

"I guess I'm just the type to fall for blondes, especially one with a tongue like Lucy's."

"Come over and sit by the fire before you fall over again. This madman I married is Alex and I'm Kristen. I suppose Lucy has already introduced herself."

"Intimately!" I replied. "That's very kind of you, Kristen. I'm Kate and this is my partner, Steph and her niece, Julia and nephew, Tony. This is our first adventure camping together and I suspect it's going to be a memorable experience."

We joined them at their campfire and soon discovered that they lived not to far from us and that Kristen was an art teacher and Alex a carpenter. The others receded into the background as Kristen, Stephanie and I traded war stories about teaching until the kids wandered off to find some more interesting entertainment. Steph and I spent a very enjoyable couple of hours talking and listening to Alex play the guitar. By the time we returned to our campsite, we had made plans to go hiking together the next day.

---

I woke relaxed and refreshed the next morning, but it felt like a field army had been tramping through my mouth all night, leaving indescribable gunk behind as their tiny boots trampled over my tongue. No way I was going to try and kiss Steph until I brushed my teeth. I left the bedroom and stood at the sink scrubbing quietly when I became aware of a quiet giggle in the room.

"Aww waaa saaa fuuwah?" I asked and the giggling was no longer quiet. Damn! You can't expect to converse with a mouth full of toothbrush.

"You're looking rather flat this morning, Aunt Kate. Did your balloons spring a leak overnight?" giggled Julia.

"Child, didn't anyone ever tell that only macho jerks make comments about a woman's breast size?"

"That shows how much you know. We girls talk about it all the time, especially while we were waiting for them to grow in. I started late — for the longest time I thought I would never have any boobs."

"That's funny — neither did I. I have to be content with silicone substitutes, but you can't sleep in them."

"You didn't look so flat yesterday morning."

"Do we really want to have this conversation?"

"Sure! You must have to think about how to look like you have breasts quite a lot."

"Not any more. They feel so natural I only notice when I'm not wearing them. I have foam forms for wearing at night, but last night I didn't bother."

"You always look so nice that it seemed funny to see you without, uh, breasts."

"Nor will anyone outside this trailer. You're family; I don't have to dress up for you. I'm trying to decide if I like being Kate enough to get implants. After what happened last night, I can't help but think how nice it would be to have real breasts of my own."

"What happened last night?"

"Well, at least you didn't notice. That's some consolation." I told her about my errant breast form and her giggles turned to real laughter.

"Jeez — can't a guy get any sleep around here without everyone making so much noise?" Tony said in a sleepy grumble.

"Sorry, little brother. Us girls were just talking about important things, like how nice it is to have breasts. You can go back to sleep, it doesn't concern you."

"Hey — I think having nice breasts is important, too. I just want them on someone else, preferably without a bra between me and them."

"You know," I replied, "up until a few months ago, I was of the same opinion. Things are a bit different now."

"We didn't know you then, but I get the idea, Aunt Kate. If you want boobs so much, then quit talking about it and go ahead and get them."

"Ah, the impetuousness of youth! I wish it were that easy. Well, I suppose the surgery is easy enough; there are a lot of women who have implants these days. It's the consequences afterward that I'm working on."

"Ah, the waffling of old farts!" Tony flipped back. "Anyone can see that you're Aunt Kate, not Uncle… uh…Hey, I don't even know what your name used to be!"

"Steve. Maybe you're right; the name just doesn't fit who I am now. If I'm going to be Kate forever, it isn't so easy. The shrinks have to bless the idea and issue the proper paperwork or I end up an unemployed professor and will have to sponge off your aunt for the rest of my life. Considering what the surgery costs, unemployment isn't such a good idea."

"Have you talked to a psychiatrist about this, Aunt Kate?" asked Julia.

"Not yet. It started out as a lark, but it's gotten serious enough I have an appointment with a gender specialist for an outside perspective before I make such a permanent change in my life."

"Hey! This is getting way too serious!" complained Tony. "We're supposed to be on vacation and having fun, not talking about shrinks and surgery. I like you the way you are, Aunt Kate. Worry about where you're going when we get home, OK?"

"OK, Tony, you have a deal. Let me step into my telephone booth and change into Superwoman so we can face the day. You guys up for a hike?"

---

Getting dressed that morning was a bit of a dilemma. Steve would not have hesitated to slide into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to go hiking, but I just didn't want to abandon the freedom of a skirt, even if pants would have been more sensible. I was still completely enamored of skirts and dresses at that point (not that I've changed too much since…), so I opted for sort of a "Hearty English Maid" look with a tweed skirt and tan safari-type blouse. Even I wasn't foolish enough to wear pantyhose for hiking; I settled for a good pair of high top sneaks and pink socks. I did my best to ignore Steph's ribbing about exaggerated femininity while I dressed.

As I reached behind me to snap the hooks on my bra, I noticed Stephanie looking at me.

"There are times it feels a little weird to be doing this, you know," I said.

"Do tell. You make it look like you've been doing it for years. Seems perfectly natural to me, anyway."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm somewhere between male and female and don't know which way to go?" I asked.

"Not in the least. Do you have to choose one or the other? I like you the way you are just fine. When you're not worrying about how you 'should' act, you seem perfectly contented with who you are. If you're happy with living as Kate, than that's the way you should live. Believe me, I'm happy living with Kate, darling!"

"Trust a second grade teacher to be able to break things down into small chunks so even us worrywarts can understand. I had an interesting conversation with the kids this morning."

"And…."

"The subject of breasts came up. I won't repeat what Tony thinks about where boobs belong, but Julia thinks that it makes perfect sense to get implants if that's what I want. The more I think about it, the more I think it may be the right thing."

"You're a sensible women, Kate."

"Becoming a woman full time may not be so sensible; that's what I'm afraid of. Let me rephrase that — living as a woman but most definitely NOT having anything done to my genitals. There are some aspects of being male I don't want to give up. No hormones either, but implants, maybe."

"Not that I want to complain, but isn't that a bit contradictory? There are some aspects of your maleness I'm unwilling to give up, too, lover, but I wouldn't mind being able to fondle your breasts when we make love. I rather liked that in my lesbian days."

"Contradictory - that's a good word. I like living as a woman, but I don't want to lose my manhood. I'm just not sure where all this is going quite yet. What happens if I decide to make the change?"

"There will be people who will get upset about it, but if you really want to do it, then I'm with you all the way. I have a lot of experience in handling holier-than-thou types who are just itching to snub you for who you are or what you've done."

Her long ago marriage and subsequent divorce from a Muslim man had set tongues wagging and gossip flying.

"You have to be the most amazing woman I've ever met. How could I NOT fall in love with you?"

"There are some questions you shouldn't ask and that's one of them. Just kiss me and put your boobs in, darling. We'll be late.

---

At least the kids had gone to the public showers, so I could get ready for the day without having them watch. Steph had breakfast ready by the time they got back and we walked over to Alex and Kristen's site once our volunteer slaves had done the dishes. Lucy spun in paroxysms of joy when we arrived, but her leash held this time. We all climbed into their vintage VW camper, an ancient but well maintained vehicle that they were only too glad to talk about as we climbed to the top of the mountain to the trailhead.

Not being complete fools, we'd decided to start at the top of the trail and hike downward, then come back in my pickup to retrieve the camper. The day was starting to warm up, making me wish I had picked something lighter to wear, but when we entered the woods it was perfectly comfortable. It was hard to believe that these beautiful woods had been clear-cut in the early 1900s and had grown up since then. There was a feeling of ancient forest nonetheless, a green and peaceful kingdom there for our enjoyment.

As we walked we looked for the landmarks in the park guide, talking quietly, getting to know each other better. Kristen told us about trips she had taken in Germany before she emigrated, Alex told us stories of growing up in Maine and all the trouble he got into - would you believe he and his buddies stole a complete skeleton from the Moose lodge - and Steph even felt comfortable in talking about her wild times in California, much to the wonder of her niece and nephew. I had to be a little careful in choosing what stories to tell, but I was surprised at how little my male gender mattered to the stories from my childhood. Up until that moment, I hadn't realized just how far back my feminine roots reached.

Halfway down the mountain there was a log shelter beside a stream, so we stopped for lunch and found ourselves drifting peacefully into a nap under the trees. Some lazy time later, an errant beam of sunlight through the foliage came to rest on my eyes, slowly bringing me out of the contented well of slumber.

I have never been much of a religious type; the whole concept of God seems rather unreal to me. But that day, in those majestic woods, there was a peace that I had never known before. I felt Stephanie stir beside me and felt the warmth of her hand as she placed it in mine.

"Just what are you thinking about that makes you smile like that, Kate?" she asked quietly. Alex and Kristen were still lying peacefully across the clearing and the younger set had wandered off while we napped.

"Can't you feel it? There's something magical about this place." A feeling of serenity filled my being, bringing with it an intense sense of femininity. The drape of my skirt and the weight of my breasts as I lay there overwhelmed me.

"Mmmm…." Her murmur invited me to continue. In the company of the woman I loved, I felt something I have never felt before. Something more than how I was dressed.

"It almost sounds silly to say it out loud, but I feel like the hand of the goddess is touching me."

"Really?" Her tone spoke more loudly than her words.

"Really. Right now, I'm no longer wondering where I'm going any longer. I feel sure that living the rest of my life as a woman is the right path for me. Maybe it's the natural beauty of this place or maybe I've just lost my mind, but there's a presence here that I've never felt before."

"I think I feel a little bit of it myself, Kate."

The presence was unmistakably feminine, yet as powerful and stern as any patriarch from the Bible. There were no words, nothing concrete. No commands. No "This ye shall do or else." There was warmth and support and confidence, a wordless permission to become what I wanted to be and an assurance that it was not only possible but inevitable.

"It's like the One that is the source of all things has graciously invited me to partake in her femininity and the joy it brings, while at the same time accepting my maleness. She has left me no doubt that all of her creatures are truly a blend of the male and the female."

"That's wonderful, Kate. I love you and it makes me happy to see you so happy. You're positively glowing!" she leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.

Maybe it was only my subconscious making a foray to the higher realms of thought; maybe it really was a goddess. It truly doesn't matter; when I woke from my slumber, I knew that from that moment on I was Kate and that was the right thing for me. Once again, I have to use the language of my early religious training: a burden had been lifted from my soul. I was whole and free and knew what was right for me.

Sunlight was streaming down through the leaves of the trees, making glorious shafts of light as it fell. Alex and Kristen were still napping with Lucy curled up beside them. I could feel Steph's warmth next to mine — the world was a wonderful place to be in that afternoon.

"Well! It's about time some of you old farts woke up!"

How did a kid as young as Tony perfect that sarcastic tone of voice?

"Jeez — we're gonna have to put you guys in the rest home if walking in the woods for a couple hours knocks you out like that."

"Child, a girl needs her beauty rest," I replied.

"Yeah, I suppose you need to sleep about 23 hours a day then, Aunt Kate."

"'Sharper than a serpent's tooth', are we? Maybe you ought to take a nap yourself. It might improve your disposition, if not your looks, Tony."

Lucy quickly noticed that the humans were once again active and started doing her little dance of joy, which brought Alex and Kristen back to the world.

"Hey, I'm not the one wasting the day sleeping. Give me a break!"

"Arm or leg, your choice."

"Arm, darling," Steph contributed. "We don't want to have to carry him down the mountain."

"A practical woman! I knew there was a reason I wanted to marry you."

"Well, I suppose if Lucy is ready to leave, we wouldn't want to disappoint her. I rose and brushed the pine needles from my skirt, then helped Steph get up. The thought passed through my mind that even as a lady, I still behaved like a gentleman.

Perhaps the goddess would approve.

We continued down the mountain, Lucy running in great, wide circles around us, covering two or three times the distance that we mere humans walked. There were logs to investigate, chipmunks to chase and all manner of new and interesting things to explore. As we neared the end of the trail, Lucy found a muddy stream and jumped right in with a splash.

"Lucieeeeee!" came Kristen's anguished cry. "Lucy, come back here! Now!"

"Now, Kristen," drawled Alex, "Haven't you ever wanted to play in the mud and feel it squish through your toes? Let the poor animal have her fun."

"Then you wash her off. Just look at her!"

The formerly clear water of the stream was now a dark brown, as Lucy stirred up the muddy bottom with her antics. Not content to simply get wet, she found a muddy spot on the bank and proceeded to roll on her back, thoroughly coating herself in the dark brown mud. Her dirt encrusted tail wagged furiously.

"If she doesn't like being a blonde," opined Julia, "maybe you ought to take her to the beauty salon and have her fur dyed. She may have some hidden need to be a German Sheppard or something. We wouldn't want the poor thing to suffer canine dysphoria, would we?"

And I thought Tony had a sharp tongue!

"Dis what?" asked Kristen. She spoke English very well, but once in a while she had to ask what a word meant. She had plenty of company; until I started to explore my gender identity, I wouldn't have known what the word meant either.

"It's a medical term. It means discontent or unhappiness," replied Alex. "You know how doctors need to use fancy words to describe what they're doing so they can charge you more money. It's usually used talking about bipolar syndrome or to describe the feelings of people who don't fit into the usual male-female categories of society."

Now where did a carpenter become acquainted with gender dysphoria? I guess I must have been staring at him, because he replied a little sheepishly, "Hey, I got a Masters in Social Work way back when, even if I don't use it much. I imagine the subject isn't confined to clinical settings these days like it was years ago.

"Don't look at me!" I fibbed. "I just teach English; you probably know as much as I do about it. The subject does come up around campus every so often."

And if it hadn't, it would when I came back as Kate. I really didn't feel so comfortable having Alex and Kristen's attention drawn to the subject when I was around. I darn well couldn't do anything at that moment without making the connection obvious, but I wished Julia had kept her mouth shut.

"Well, if she wants to change breeds, I hope she wants to be a dachshund — she wouldn't take up as much space and she would match the VW."

"She's not getting in the camper until she has a bath, Alex. Since you think this is such a great idea, then you get to bathe her."

"Not a problem. I'll just throw a stick into the lake when we get there and she'll give herself a bath."

"I think I'll throw you in the lake, too, mister smart guy!"

"It's a nice day for swimming, why not?"

"Because they won't let dogs on the beach."

"So we throw her off that little stone patio by the playground."

Just then, Lucy decided she had had enough mud for herself, so she came flying back to share it with all of us. Call me overly fastidious, but I did not want any extra mud on my skirt. To my relief, she made a beeline to Kristen and she was soon safely attached to her leash. Not long after that, we reached the end of the trail and headed for the lake.

Lucy, as predicted, was perfectly happy to jump in the water and swim around. She was soon joined by Alex and the kids, leaving the three of us women sitting on the low stone wall to watch their antics. It was then I realized one of the limitations of being Kate on a warm summer day — no way I could go swimming without revealing far too much of my body.

As we watched them paddle about, Kristen put her hand on my shoulder and asked, "Aren't you glad you don't have a husband who jumps into the water and comes back smelling like wet dog?"

"Frankly, Kristen, I've never had any desire for a husband of any kind," I replied.

"Oh." She looked cute when she blushed.

"Don't worry! From my point of view, Steph is better than any husband could ever be." There are times that the absolute truth is completely misleading.

We didn't get to talk much more because just about then a park police cruiser pulled up near us. The officer was very polite, but there was no swimming allowed except at the beach, with a lifeguard. He even gave the wet but no longer muddy Lucy a scratch on the head before he left.

When we got back to the campsite, Kristen and I got in the pickup to go up the mountain for their camper. It seemed funny at first to be alone with a woman and not have the typical male need to check her out and take those first few steps of the mating dance. I was discovering how nice it could be to be girlfriends; but girlfriends have a way of asking questions that guys don't ask each other.

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to be too nosey but can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure, you can ask. I might even answer it."

Nervous? Me??

"Do you and Stephanie really plan on getting married?"

"Yes. We love each other and that's what we want to do. Does that bother you?"

"I don't really know. With all the excitement on the news about gays getting married, I've thought about it, but I didn't really care about it until I met you."

"Makes a difference when it's someone you know rather than someone spouting off on the news, doesn't it?" I replied.

"You and Stephanie are the first lesbians I've met. Well, I suppose I must know others, but they don't advertise it. Alex knows a lesbian couple who used to be in his music club, who had a little girl a few years back, but I haven't met them."

"It wasn't easy to be open about Steph and me, but we haven't had to deal with too much garbage. I just hope that all the anger and craziness about who you want to love will be gone someday. It's awful when someone hates you because of who you love."

"Alex and I had a little bit of that. When I met him, there were people who thought I was terrible just because I was born in Germany and had the nerve to fall in love with an American. I didn't fall in love with an American, I fell in love with a person."

"Well, I suppose that's better than falling in love with a sheep — people would really talk, then."

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that!"

"Want to bet some people would vote for the sheep rather than same sex marriage? Heavens, they'd rather have a guy in a dress marching down the aisle than have two women."

"So what are you going to do when you get married?"

"Have a small wedding with family and friends. No reporters invited and no publicity wanted."

"I hope it all works out for you; you seem like nice people."

"Thank you! It's funny, we've only just met, but you and Alex seem like old friends already. I'm really glad that Lucy got loose last night."

"Well, I wouldn't want to meet too many people like that, but I'm glad we met you."

We drove on for a while in comfortable silence until Kristen had another question.

"Another personal question, Kate?"

"Go for it!"

"What's it like being with another woman? I hope I'm not being too rude."

I knew it was coming. It's a truism that women talk more freely about sex than men, at least about the emotional side of it, but I was at a loss for an answer. The situation was absurd! Was I really so truly into Kate that another woman… Wait a minute — I'm not a really a woman, so how could Kristen be 'another' woman? I wasn't a lesbian in bed, but out of bed I think I could understand how a real woman might feel.

Or was that just masculine hubris? This was getting very confusing!

"I'm not sure I can tell you, Kristen. I've never made love to a man, so I have no way of knowing how it might be different." Once again, the truth was highly misleading! "You just learn what pleases your partner and keep doing it until they have an orgasm. I suppose it doesn't matter all that much what the biological sex is if both partners are in love and will take the time to find out how to make each other happy."

"I never quite thought of it that way."

Neither did I, Kristen, neither did I! Too bad I can't tell you the whole truth.

"I suppose Alex has used his fingers and tongue and maybe a toy or two on you. With your eyes closed, does it really matter if the fingers or tongue are attached to a penis or a vagina?"

She was silent for a while, but the abstracted smile on her face told me everything I needed to know.

"I guess you're right, but I think I would miss having him come in me," she said finally.

"I don't know; that sort of thing has never interested me." Talk about your understatement! "I've always been completely satisfied with a woman for a partner. Maybe it's genetic or something."

"I didn't want to be nosey, Kate."

"Sure you did, but that's just fine with me. A lot of people are curious about what other people do in bed, but they're too hung up to ask. I doubt that Steph and I do anything very much different than anything you and Alex have done. There are only so many ways you can fit things together without bending or breaking them. Then again, there's always the chance you'll learn something new. Got any suggestions?"

My smartass question sent Kristen into a fit of giggles, which was just as well. I was realizing that there were drawbacks in talking about sex with a woman as attractive as Kristen. For the first time since I had found Kate, I found myself hardening up at an inopportune time. That hadn't happened to me since I was a randy teen. I was certainly glad to be wearing a full skirt and to be sitting down.

I was saved from any embarrassment when we arrived at the camper. Kristen got out and by the time we returned to the campsite, I was safely back into my persona as Kate.

---

On the 4th of July, the kids didn't want to miss the fireworks. Who do I think I'm kidding? I wanted to see the fireworks just as much as they did. Life as Kate had brought a new excitement to what I had once considered banal. It had been years since I had gone to a fireworks display, mostly because it's something you do with a crowd and I really hadn't run with a crowd. Now I had Steph and her family to make the celebration interesting once more.

Alex and Kristen had other plans, so we piled into the pickup and headed for the park office. There were several towns that had fireworks, but the girl at the counter swore that those in Warren, PA were the best. It was quite a ways, but the drive along the river and reservoir was gorgeous; I swear we saw an eagle over the water — beautiful!

It wasn't hard to find the fireworks, everybody else in the town was going there, too. All we had to do was follow the crowd. I found a parking place for the pickup and we joined the throng. Warren isn't exactly a small town, but it's not a teeming metropolis either. Since we had a while before dusk, Stephanie and I wandered the streets and shops, sometimes holding hands, sometimes striking off alone to examine something interesting.

Something mysterious had happened to me since I realized I was Kate. I actually enjoy leisurely shopping with no particular goal in mind. Don't get me wrong! I can still go into the grocery or hardware store, pick up the things I need and be out of there in a very short time. What has changed is that I actually enjoy wandering around, examining knick-knacks or clothes or what-have-you. Set me down within 25 yards of a rack of bras that are not utilitarian white and I'm happy for the rest of the afternoon. Just take a look at my collection of bras, if you think I'm joking. I just love wearing a lacy bra, even if nobody but Steph will ever see it.

I found a pair of earrings that Steph would just love and even managed to buy them without her knowing so I could surprise her. When Steph rejoined me, I noticed a pair of teenagers looking at me rather closely. As I became aware of their scrutiny, I realized that after so long in public as Kate I had lost my fear of being revealed as a crossdresser. It was strange to have that feeling of doubt return so suddenly. There wasn't anything I could do about it. I tried my best to ignore them, but once that sliver of doubt invades your mind, it isn't easy to shake it off.

The kids didn't help much, because they followed us out of the store. They continued to whisper to each other and point at me in a way they must have thought was surreptitious. How ironic! I had spent the afternoon talking sex without being discovered and then some teenybopper comes along and the jig is up.

They followed Steph and me too long to be just coincidence, stopping when we stopped and continuing when we continued. Tony had caught the byplay as well. Bless his heart, he came up with a creative solution in a flash. I doubt his actions were completely protective of his aunt since, in my anxiety, I had failed to note that the ladies in question were pretty easy on the eyes. Tony did what any teenage boy would have found natural and maneuvered himself near them and started to chat them up.

Now I was the one watching them, for their focus had switched to Tony. I sorted through a rack of sale dresses on the sidewalk in front of a shop with only half of my attention as I watched the first steps of the mating dance being performed. Tony's overture was accepted (I wonder what line he used?) and the blonde one straightened up a bit and projected her endowments as she answered his sally. Tony's arms and hands flew as he pressed his advantage, until the brown haired one did a little wiggle and jiggle that had an unmistakable meaning even if I couldn't hear the conversation.

Their conversation grew more animated and I knew just what story Tony was telling because he had tried it out on us not too long before. That shuffle walk that accompanied the recurring chant was unmistakable and the girls laughed at the right places. Better yet, they were no longer looking at me.

Along about then the merchants began dismantling the sidewalk sale and closing up shop. The sun still had a ways to go before it set, but it was time to head for the park and spread our blanket. Julia finished looking at some wooden birdhouses and joined us, asking if I had seen Tony. I pointed him out as he continued his conquest half a block away.

As I spoke he and his conquests started walking toward us and before I knew what was happening he was introducing them to us, giving his Aunt Kate a quick hug in the process. I was completely unable to decide whether I should hug him back or simply kill him there and then.

"Hey Aunties, this is Karen and Beth," he announced in an enthusiastic voice. "Beth's the blonde one. Ladies, this is my Aunt Stephanie and her partner Kate. Karen and Beth said they would show us the best place to watch the fireworks."

It seemed we had acquired a pair of native guides.

"Um, Tony…," inquired Julia.

"Oh yeah, this is my sister Julia. You can ignore her like I do."

We shuffled around a bit with polite handshakes and variants on the theme of "Hello," except for Julia, who tried to shake her brother's neck. Instead of shaking my curious teens, suddenly I was shaking their hands and being polite. I don't believe I have ever been so conscious of my voice.

Fortunately, I had little need to speak as Tony was monopolizing the conversation. Letting the Native Guides take the lead, we headed toward the park, where we spread our blanket at the edge of the crowd. We were hardly settled when the kids decided to go exploring until dusk fell, leaving me alone with Stephanie.

"Want to take bets that Tony has the cell number of one or both of them before he gets back?" I asked.

"I don't take sucker bets, sucker. At least we're not the center of attention anymore."

"Tell me about it! I had visions of being stripped naked there on the street while the Teen Menaces From Hell exposed my every secret."

"Now that's funny!" Steph laughed. "I suspect Tony wouldn't mind in the least having the two of them strip him naked."

"All in your point of view, I suppose. Anyway, I'm glad they're gone and it will be dark when they come back."

The area was filling up quickly. A young couple spread their blanket next to us and took their baby from her stroller. With a massive grin on her face, the child started to crawl off the blanket to explore whatever the world had to offer. She crawled with enthusiasm, lifting her hands high and slapping them down as she wiggled her tush. A game soon developed as Dad caught the wayward tyke's leg just as she got to the edge of the blanket and slid her backward. Giggling, she resumed her flight in a new direction, only to be captured at the last second. Eventually, her path took her toward Stephanie and me and I found myself staring down into an angelic face surrounded by golden curls. With the fearlessness of youth, she simply crawled up my leg and tried to continue on.

"And where do you think you're going?" I said in the high pitched tones that adults use with babies the world over. She didn't answer, so I pointed her back to Mom and Dad and let her go. She headed for Mom and gave her a big hug before continuing on her way. Pretty soon, we were involved in a game of catch with the baby as a living ball. She would approach one of the adults and do her charming bit, then bounce away to the next one. We soon learned her name was Lisa and Mom and Dad were Jim and Lilly. No further conversation was needed, since we had plenty of entertainment before us.

It was getting dark and I was starting to wonder where the kids were when Lisa headed toward me again. Just as she reached me, there was a flash and a tremendous BOOM that echoed from the surrounding hills — the first warning that the fireworks were imminent. The fireworks weren't the only sound echoing from the hills; Lisa did her best to match the BOOM in volume, if not pitch. I automatically picked her up and held her as she started crying.

Once again, I felt the goddess touch me that day. I had never really cared for a child in my life; the few times I had met my cousin's kids hardly counted, but I automatically spoke quietly and stroked the crying child as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps caring for a frightened child is the most natural thing in the world. Did it really matter if I were born a woman or a man? I know that women are supposed to be the nurturing half of the species, but could homo sapiens have survived if half of its members were genetically incapable of comforting a crying child? Not likely!

Be that as it may, there was something innately feminine about having my new friend slowly lose her fear as I held her. Her arms crept around my neck and held me tightly as I softly murmured nonsense in her ear and stroked her back.

"You seem to have the magic touch." Lilly, who had started for Lisa when she was frightened, had stopped and watched when she realized her daughter was being comforted. "She doesn't usually take so to strangers."

"Beginner's luck, isn't it darling? I guess you think Auntie Kate is OK."

Lisa didn't have anything to say; she just nestled a little closer to my shoulder.

My philosophical mood was broken by the return of the exploration party and their native guides.

"Jeez — we go away for a few minutes and my aunt has a baby." Julia was very amused. "There something you haven't been telling us, Aunt Kate?"

"We decided nine months was too long to wait," Stephanie came to my defense, "so we just borrowed her for a tryout. I figure if we trade you two in, it won't cost us too much to have a kid who shows a little respect."

"Slavery! Human Bondage!" cried Tony.

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. I know some folks who get into bondage games."

BOOM!

"WAAAH!"

"Mumble, mumble." Stroke. Cuddle. "It's alright, little girl."

The conversation was forgotten as the cycle started over, but she settled more quickly this time. I felt Stephanie slide over and sit behind me, so we were supporting each other. I hadn't even realized I was uncomfortable until I felt her warmth against my back. I guess mothers really do put their children first.

Lisa was smiling but a bit nervous. Was it because she was concerned about her baby being with a stranger, or was it because she didn't want to impose? The maternal instincts I didn't know I had seemed to have kicked in — I didn't want to let go of the baby.

"Let's be sure she's really out before the real noise starts," I offered. "Then we can put her in the stroller and you can enjoy the show, too."

"You're sure she's not bothering you?" Lilly asked.

"Not a chance! I haven't had so much fun in ages."

BOOM!

This time she hardly stirred. She must be one of those kids who sleep like the dead when they finally give up. I told myself it was to make sure when was really asleep that I kept holding her, but I knew it was a lie. It just plain felt wonderful. A couple of more booms resounded, then the first palm tree snaked its way into the sky. I returned my sleeping charge to her parents and we all watched anxiously to see if she would remain asleep.

Luck, or maybe the goddess, was with us and she continued sleeping. I returned to our blanket and lay back, holding hands with Stephanie while we watched the fireworks together. I couldn't help but notice on my way back that Tony had managed to end up between the two Native Guides to watch the show. The kid was a fast worker.

While I have seen bigger displays in some of the big cities I have been in, the fireworks had a special kick because of the multitude of echoes from the surrounding hills. I swear I could feel my breast forms vibrating with the bigger explosions. What a great day this had been. In a way it was my independence day; I felt at peace with my decision to become Kate for the rest of my life. I knew it was the right decision. I wasn't foolish enough, even then, to think it would be easy, but I certainly knew it would be worth it.

---

The next morning I woke slowly and peacefully while Stephanie continued to dream on beside me. Part of me wanted to pack up and go home so I could put my resolve to become more fully Kate into practice, but a more rational part of me realized that a few more days would not make any real difference. I knew that in order to be accepted at the college, I would have to do things by the book, so I had to wait until my appointment with the psychiatrist came around when we got back. Well, it really did make sense, after all.

What had started as a fling sure did develop into something I hadn't expected. If you had asked how I would spend the Fourth of July last January, I would have given you a completely wrong answer. There could be equally major turns ahead in the road of my life; maybe a shrink could help keep me from ending up in a ditch with my wheels spinning in the air because I misjudged a curve.

As the morning fog cleared in my head I realized that there were a couple of phone calls I needed to make, so I got up quietly, trying not to disturb Steph as I got dressed. I decided on an angel-sleeved sundress as the weather was again warming up, slipped into a pair of sandals and went out to my pickup. I was surprised to see Tony was up and gone while Julia was still asleep.

The cell phone reception in the trailer park was iffy, but seemed to be much better nearer the swimming area, so I headed that way. As I walked, I met tony walking down the road toward me, cell phone in hand. He was deeply immersed in the conversation and didn't notice me until I was practically on top of him.

"Checking your stock portfolio?"

"Nah, just talking to Beth. You know, from last night? She's going to come up here so we can go hiking. She's pretty neat."

"My, my! You are the fast worker!"

"Aww, Aunt Kate, it's not like that!"

"I know, but it was too good to resist. Only her, or will the Bobbsey Twins be coming?"

"Huh?"

"You're too young — will her girlfriend be coming to chaperone?"

"Jeez — you sound like Mom.

"Comes with age. Just curious, Tony. If you haven't learned how to control yourself by now, I'm not going to beat it into you in the next few minutes."

"That don't sound like Mom!"

"Thanks, you had me worried for a minute."

"I expect we ought to check with your aunt Stephanie before either of us makes any plans for the day. As far as I know we aren't doing anything special."

"Sure. I was looking at the park schedule and there's a couple of things that sound interesting."

"And they sound a lot more interesting with a pretty girl holding your hand, right?"

"Aww, Aunt Kate!"

"Don't forget, I know what it's like to be sixteen and male, despite present appearances."

"Yeah, I guess you do." He paused for a moment. "Is it any easier being a girl?"

"I don't think so, but I haven't been at it all that long. I like being Kate better than I did being Steve, but I didn't dislike being Steve. Does that make any sense?"

"I don't know. I just get so confused sometimes."

"I don't think that has much to do with being male or female; that comes as a free prize for being born."

"Heck, you make it sound like a game show or something. Sometimes I feel like I picked Door Number 2 when I should have gone for Door Number 3."

"Guess what? The cynic in me figures the prize is on wheels and it would have been moved to Door Number 1 as soon as you picked number 3."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. It's like every time I think I know what I'm doing, something happens and…."

"Well, the more things you do wrong, the more things you learn not to do. Sometimes you have to keep trying things until you find something that works. 'Course, being a screwup all the time isn't much fun. You should have seen me when I was your age."

"What did you do when you liked a girl?"

"Mostly got all tongue tied and stupid and fell on my face. I was pretty well scared to ask a girl for a date for the longest time." I affected an exaggerated hick accent. "I used to be scared of gurls and now I are one! Yuck, yuck."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I always envied the jocks who had girls hanging around them and all they had to do was pick which one whenever they wanted a date. It didn't seem fair. Funny thing was, my first college roommate was a jock and he got sick of women who were always after his muscles and didn't have a brain in their heads. I didn't have much sympathy for him until I went out with one or two of his harem. They were decorative but downright boring. I found out that I wanted someone who had more than one dimension to her life."

"I don't think I'm going to have to worry about that with Beth. She's no dummy."

"Pretty observant, too. I was sure she was on to me last night. By the way, thanks for giving her something else to think about."

"She was awful curious, but it was about you and Aunt Stephanie; I don't think she's figured out you aren't a real woman."

"I guess that's a compliment. Look, Tony — if she's going to be spending the day with us, don't try to be a hero and hide my secret identity if she starts wondering. Tell her the truth and remember that it's me that's different — you haven't changed because I changed my gender. Unless you two go and get married, she doesn't need to know all the details."

"It's only a date, Aunt Kate. Don't get carried away!"

"You look cute when you get excited. I hope Beth appreciates it."

"Do I know you? Help! Some weird stranger is stalking me! Help! Police!"

"I swear, Officer, I was just walking along minding my own business when this punk comes up and demands my purse or he'll see I get raped by a bear! See — he's wearing gang colors! Poor little innocent me!"

"Yeah, but I'm younger and cuter. They'll believe me first."

"Just remember — 'Old Age and Treachery Trumps Youth and Enthusiasm'."

"Go suck eggs, old lady."

"I'd prefer to break a few of them — I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Sounds good to me. Let's wake up my lazy sister and get her to make breakfast."

"Is that a sexist remark, young man?"

"Nope, she's a better omelet maker. I do the hash browns."

"Then I'll sit down and drink coffee and let you two have at it."

He did do a good job on the hash browns.

---

Have you ever watched one of those nature programs on PBS where some exotic bird goes through incredible gyrations as he dances around a prospective mate? As Stephanie and I washed the lunch dishes, we watched out the trailer's window and found out what Marlin Perkins must have felt like. Tony and Beth were executing some interesting choreography.

"Did I behave like that when I started paying attention to you?" I asked Stephanie.

"Well, you certainly did start displaying bright colors, but I don't think you were in such a hurry."

"Yeah, what were I going to do — move out to get away from you?"

"I was pretty nervous, you know. There were a couple of times I almost asked you to move out."

"Really?"

"It wasn't easy learning to trust again. I still have flashes of panic, you know."

"I wondered, but you seem to be coping with them. Don't be afraid to let me know if you want me to back off sometimes. I'm glad I fell in love with you, you know."

"I still wonder sometimes why you thought I was worth all the effort."

"Don't we all? You showed me something about myself that I had never known. I might have never realized that Kate was living in my body if I hadn't met you. You may have had difficulty trusting men for a good reason, but I never was able to give myself to anyone until you showed me the female side I had buried for so long. I just hope Tony and Julia can find a love like we found and not have to wait for half their lives before it happens."

"If Tony has anything say about it, he should finish up before dinnertime today."

"Beth doesn't seem to be objecting very hard, does she?"

"Beth is pulling as fast as he can push. Trust me, darling."

"Implicitly. Give me a kiss and we can go outside and make the young lovers nervous."

We kissed - quite thoroughly, indeed — and sat down at the picnic table with Tony and Beth. The conversation was the usual stuff you talk about on a lazy summer afternoon, nothing worth reporting. After a while, Alex and Kristen walked by and waved.

"Anyone for the beach?" Alex called happily.

"You want to go swimming?" Tony asked Beth.

"Sure. I brought my suit."

"Sounds good to me!" Stephanie added.

It sounded good to me, too, but I had a problem. Kate could not wear a swimming suit without being revealed. Oh, well — nothing is completely good all the time. I resorted to a little white lie.

"I'll come along and wade a bit, but I never learned to swim."

"I can show you how," offered Beth. "I have my Red Cross certificate."

"Thanks, but I don't have a suit. I'm perfectly happy to dunk my toes."

I got one of those piercing looks that so unnerved me when I first met her, but Beth dropped the subject. After a bit of running around to find suits and towels, we walked down to the lake. When they designed Allegany park, they did a good job. There is a nice, sandy beach for the kids to play on and several large, old shade trees at the edge of the sand for us more sedate types to relax in the shade and watch them play.

Who am I kidding, I wanted to jump in the water and swim with everyone else. I had read about the various ways to hide my male equipment on the Internet and had even tried it a couple of times. Not exactly comfortable, but for short periods it wasn't too bad. That discomfort, along with my personal tastes, contributed to my fondness for long, full skirts. No, the real problem was that a swimsuit wouldn't hide my breast forms, so I had to content myself with wading a bit and trying not to get my skirt soaked.

One more reason for me to make the transition to real breasts; I intended to go swimming at this beach next year. So, I spent the next few hours playing the stereotype of an English professor, comfortably sitting in the shade reading a book. Every once in a while, an errant breeze would come along and rustle my skirt and I could always put down my book and watch any one of several cute kids playing on the beach. It was a very peaceful way to spend the afternoon.

"My, you look peaceful."

I opened my eyes to see Beth standing there. I told you it was peaceful, didn't I?

"Just resting my eyes."

"What'cha reading?"

"John Varley's 'Red Lightning'."

"Who's he?"

"Science Fiction. Great summer reading for the beach."

"An English professor that reads Science Fiction?"

"Sure! Beats the hell out of F. Scott Fitzgerald. And don't ask 'Who's he?'"

"Jeez — I know who he is. We had to read Gatsby in class."

"And…."

"It wasn't all that bad, but there were a lot of dumb people with too much money and not enough sense."

"I couldn't have said it any better. You ought to get a job teaching English."

"I don't think I want to be a teacher. Right now, I think I want to go into linguistics. I like deciphering how language works and how it affects the society that uses it."

"Interesting. I took a little bit of that when I was a student but fell in love with the literature more than the language. It's hard to separate them, of course. Thought about which school you want to go to?"

"Right now, I have to graduate from high school before I think too far ahead. I'm going to apply to Dartmouth and Cornell, but I'll probably end up at Penn State since it's in state and all."

"You could do worse, they're all good schools. It's nice to find someone who has a plan for their life - you wouldn't believe how many of my students haven't a clue what they want to do, even though they made it through high school and are in college."

"Well, it's not exactly set in stone, but with all the terrorist craziness, linguistic forensics looks like a pretty good bet for a career. Who knows, I might even get to be a spook for the CIA."

Linguistic forensics? Half my students hadn't a clue what forensics were, let alone how to use the word properly. Blonde she might be, but you couldn't call her dumb. Decorative, to be sure, but not dumb.

"I can't wait until you publish your memoirs — 'How I Saved the World from a Dangling Participle' sounds like a good working title."

"You're crazy, Ms. Tucker."

"Kate, please. No need for formality — I'm on vacation."

"My pa would have a fit. He about blows a gasket about being disrespectful to adults and calling them by their first names."

"And he let you get away to visit a complete stranger you only met last night?"

"Well, they're kind of like on vacation, so I didn't have to tell them. It's not like we're going to elope or anything. Tony just seemed like a guy I'd like to get to know better."

"Speaking of Tony, how come he isn't here mooning over you?"

"He had to go pee. And he's not mooning over me; he's just a nice guy I met."

"And a pretty fast worker to convince an older woman to spend the day with him after only knowing her a couple of hours."

"Stop that — you're just trying to be outrageous."

"I suppose I am, but I like being the oddball, you know."

"It wasn't hard to figure that one out, Ms. Tucker. Uh — Kate."

I raised my eyebrows in a silent invitation for her to continue.

"Two women strolling down Main Street in Warren holding hands is not something you see every day. Not that I care, but…."

"You care, right? Yeah, lots of people 'but in' when they think you're a lesbian. It takes some getting used to, believe me. Is that why you were staring at me last night?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"Two teenagers giggling and pointing and whispering in each other's ears is kind of noticeable. To tell you the truth, I was wondering if the two of you had something going."

Me, poke a hornet's nest with a stick? Sure!

"With Karen? We're just friends."

"Relax, I'm just giving you grief. I get out of hand like that, sometimes."

"It's just that the only other lesbian I know about is a real head case at school. She's into spikes and leather and chains. You seem so, well, normal."

Just your run-of-the-mill lesbian, eh? I could almost chew on the irony.

"Sounds like some of my students. Just being Kate is radical enough for me, I think. I guess I'm enough on the butch side that I get stared at pretty often."

She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"Relax, Beth. For someone who thinks calling adults by their first names is radical, you're doing pretty well. The world is full of surprises and things you haven't seen before. Just wait until you get to college — there will be people that make me seem pretty tame."

At least I hope they would — making the change of gender was going to be full of unexpected results, I was sure.

"I suppose you're right," Beth replied, sounding confused.

"Trust me. Speaking of people needing to pee, I think I fall into that category. In my mother's day, I would gave gone to 'powder my nose,' but as a liberated woman I can say I have to pee and be proud of it!" I rose from my chair.

"I think I'll join you."

"Leaving Tony to wonder where we went — it will be good for his soul."

As I sat and did my business, I couldn't help but reflect on how far I had come in such a short time. A few months ago, the ladies room had been a terrifying adventure; today it was a social experience.

As I emerged into the afternoon sunlight, I saw Tony and Beth seated next to each other on one of the benches. Tony once again had the cell phone to his ear, but he didn't look very happy. In fact, his face was a bright red. He was not exactly shouting, but he sure wasn't holding a private conversation.

"I didn't run away from home! Aunt Stephanie invited Julia and me to go on vacation with her and Dad said it was OK!" He listened for a moment. "No, we are not coming home. We are staying with Aunt Stephanie. I know you don't like her, but she's still my aunt and I do like her. And I like Aunt Kate just as much."

More listening.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mother, but that's not true. You were the one who took off and left us behind, so I couldn't exactly ask your permission for anything." Pause. "You'll have to talk to Dad about that." Pause. "I'm sorry, Mother, but this isn't getting us anywhere. I love you, but you are being completely unreasonable. I'm staying here with Aunt Stephanie and I am not coming home. Besides, we don't have a car to go home in. Goodbye, mother."

With an angry gesture, he flipped the phone shut and put it in his pocket. Not quite sure it was the right thing to do, I went over to Tony.

"Tony?" I asked quietly. He looked like a hurt and confused puppy, which was uncomfortably close to his situation. Poor kid, breaking free from your parents is hard enough without throwing crossdressing relatives into the mix.

"Mom says she's coming down here to take us back home. She hates you, Aunt Kate. It isn't right."

Beth instinctively reached out and put her arm around Tony.

"Tony, I don't want to say bad things about your mother, but I've had to learn that there are some people who will never be able to accept what I am. That doesn't make them bad people, but it can make it very uncomfortable for someone like you who gets caught in the middle. I'm sorry you have to go through this because of me, but from what Stephanie has told me, I think this crisis would have come along whether I was the center of it or not. Growing up isn't easy, Tony, and learning that the people you love aren't perfect is as difficult as it gets."

"But why does she have to be like this? She cheats on Dad, but then she goes all moral because of you and Aunt Stephanie. How can she do that?"

So, he knew what Tom had suspected. Damned hard to hide anything from a perceptive kid like Tony.

"It has something to do with being human. The psychiatrists call it compartmentalization — the ability to have two incompatible ideas in your brain at the same time. We all do it; it's a way to cope with things that distress us. You can wall them off and forget to look at them. That's how your mother can be all righteously indignant about a crossdressing aunt while she ignores her own infidelity."

Beth's eyes went wide and I realized my mistake. Great! One more crisis to cope with.

"Sorry, Beth. I'm not a lesbian; I'm transgendered. If you want me to, I'll tell you all about it later, but right now Tony needs us to be with him."

Why did I have to open my big mouth? Now I had two confused kids in front of me. I wished Stephanie were here; I needed her compassion and insight, but she was out in the lake splashing around with Julia and Kristen. Where was Alex? I could use the help of a reformed social worker about now.

"This is one of those reality shows, right? Where they dump some poor dope into a weird situation and see what kind of idiot she makes of herself?" Beth muttered.

"Believe me," I answered, "I'd be very happy to holler 'CUT' and start over, but there's no camera or crew hiding in the bushes. It's just, plain ordinary reality. It's really happening."

"Maybe I should become a writer and not a linguist. This would make a good book. Think I could make the best seller list my first time out?"

I was impressed with her ability to joke after landing smack in the middle of a very strange family quarrel.

"You think this is good material? You ought to apply to Brockport, so you can watch what happens when I let them know I'm transitioning."

"Transitioning?"

"Sorry, sometimes I forget everybody doesn't know the jargon. I haven't told them I'm changing genders yet."

"Oh."

"Beth?" Tony seemed to have come out of his stupor. Her look invited him to continue.

"I just wanted to get to know you; I didn't think anything like this would happen."

"You know what, Tony? I didn't think anything like this could happen either. It's got to be the most interesting first date I've ever been on."

"And the last one with me, right?"

"What? You're going home with your mother? I thought you weren't going to do that."

"I'm staying. I just didn't think you would want to after all this."

"And not find out how it all ends? No way!"

Was it going to end any time soon? I didn't think so.

"Tony, I hate to interrupt the love scene, but I think you had better call your father and let him know what's going on. If your mother is really coming down here to take you back home, there's not much we can do to stop her."

"Great — then they can have a fight so the whole campground knows what's going on."

There are actually people who think they can "hide it from the kids." I was willing to bet that Julia and Tony knew just about every detail of their parents' problems, and suffered from it, no doubt.

"Then let's hope you get to him in time to talk to her before she leaves. I don't think any of us want to be involved in their fight."

"I guess you're right, Aunt Kate."

"I hope I am. I'm going to go and talk to Stephanie while you call your dad. Good luck, Tony. I haven't known you all that long, but I want you to know I think you're a fine young man and I think you are going to be able to handle this. Your aunt and I are here for you, remember that."

"Thanks, Aunt Kate" He flipped open the phone.

---

Have you ever tried to stand by the shore of a lake and wave frantically while remaining ladylike? One more challenge for the afternoon. Eventually, I got Steph's attention and the water nymphs paddled in to the shore. Kristen, sensing that there was a problem, politely made an exit, leaving the three of us alone. I felt guilty for putting an end to her fun in the water, but Steph had to know what was going on.

"I'm afraid a family crisis has come up. I'd like to say unexpectedly, but I think we knew that Deb wouldn't approve of the kids vacationing with us. She just called and told Tony that she intends to come down here and take them home."

"The hell she is!" replied Steph.

"Yeah, that sounds just like Mom," Julia said in a resigned tone. "She raised an awful fuss because I'm going away to school; she wanted me to go to Buffalo State just so I could stay at home. Maybe I should just move in with you and Aunt Kate and have done with it."

"Julia, have you ever heard the phrase 'pouring fuel on the fire'?" Steph sounded shocked.

"Hey — I'm kidding. I'm going to live in the dorms. Can I still come over and mooch meals when the cafeteria food is too lousy?"

"Considering your culinary abilities, you can come over and cook the meals for us. I'm getting spoiled with you two helping with the food. But we seem to have gotten off topic here."

"Fine with me, Aunt Steph. I don't want to have another fight with Mom, especially with you involved."

"And I don't intend to have a fight with your mother. I intend to call Tom right away and see if he can talk some sense into her."

"Too late for that," I offered. "Tony was calling him as I came over to spring the bad news on you. Shall we go see what he found out?"

"I guess so." Steph sounded dubious.

"Oh, yeah. I got a big mouth and Beth now knows I'm transgendered, not a lesbian."

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'pouring fuel on the fire'?" came the response in unison.

"I always was a hothead. It just slipped out when I was trying to help Tony cope."

"And???"

"You know, I don't think it made much difference to Beth. Lesbian, transgendered, little green man — they're all alien concepts to most people."

"Now there's an idea. We get a spaceship to hover over us and suck us up into another dimension in a blue glow and then we won't have to worry about it any more."

"Nah — with our luck humans would look like crossdressed Ziliphobians or something and we'd all be arrested."

"Alright, I guess we'll all have to face this together. Let's go back to the trailer and plot our strategy."

"Just remember what Charles DeGaulle said - 'You have to be fast on your feet and adaptive or else a strategy is useless.'"

---

Waiting gets to you after a while. Tony and Julia were adamant — they were not going to leave, no matter what their mother wanted. It appeared that Steph and I had become a battleground in an already stormy marriage. With disturbing clarity, Julia and Tony detailed the family problems from their point of view. Steph was visibly shaken; her brother had not let her know how serious the situation was and of course, I had just met them a few days before and was feeling very uncomfortable for having been the catalyst in the whole affair.

It takes two hours to drive to the park from Buffalo, so after three uneventful hours, we were getting pretty nervous — what was taking her so long? By the four hour mark, Beth knew as much about crossdressing and transgenderism as we could tell her and we started getting more hungry than nervous; it was well past dinner time. At least cooking gave us something to do besides worry. By the time we got to dessert, we were feeling much more relaxed. When Lucy, tail wagging furiously, escorted Alex and Kristen past our site, we invited them to share the strawberry shortcake that Julia had made.

"Family crisis taken care of, I hope?" Alex queried.

"Not quite," answered Stephanie. "We were waiting for the shoe to drop, but we got hungry."

"So you cobbled together some dinner, I suppose?" he deadpanned.

"There's something about sole food I can't resist."

"But it won't last."

"Seems more like a case of foot-in-mouth disease to me." observed Julia. "Is it catching?"

"Sure, but a good heeler will take care of the problem."

"An arch comment if I ever heard one."

"Enough! I'm putting my foot down — no more puns!" cried Stephanie.

"Don't get yourself in a leather. Ouch!"

I have got to learn not to push my luck. Wooden spoons are dangerous in the hands of an incensed woman. Uh, person.

"Did you drop by for a reason or just to start trouble?" Steph asked.

"Actually, we did. The contradance is about to start up at the administration building. You interested in kicking up your heels?"

"You're not starting again, are you?" There was a dangerous tone in her Steph's voice.

"Who, me?" He surely could affect an innocent face. "Just inviting my friends to a dance."

"I don't know. With my darling sister-in-law about to arrive we should really…."

"Aww, come on, Aunt Steph!" Tony pleaded. "Would you rather be dancing or listening to Mom go on about how Aunt Kate's a pervert?"

"I suppose…." Steph wasn't quite sure.

"Make her work for it, love," I said as I put my arm around her. "I suspect she'll find us eventually and being in a public place may keep her temper in check."

"Alright, already. I'm convinced. But don't you need big poufy skirts and cowboy shirts to go square dancing?"

"If you're into the Western style you do, but this is a contra dance. You form two lines with the men on one side and the women on the other and dance as a group. The patterns are the same as a square dance but each couple moves down the line, swinging and turning with their neighbors, until they reach the end. Then go back and start over at the top. Don't worry, there are always more women than men, so one of you can pretend to be the man for the evening and no one will notice."

I was hard put to keep my face straight, but Beth lost it.

"So who volunteers to be the man tonight?" she could hardly get the question out for laughing.

"Why me, of course," Stephanie answered. "After all, I'm wearing the pants in the family tonight, aren't I?"

Well, she was. I was still in the skirts only stage of becoming Kate.

"My hero!" I sighed theatrically. "Take me away from all this and sweep me off my feet at the ball."

"Sheesh! I'll take you dancing, but when the big, nasty dragon arrives, you're on your own."

"You're fired! How about you, Tony?"

"Dragons breathe fire! Not me, Aunt Steph."

"You haven't seen what I've seen. Ouch!" She still had the wooden spoon.

---

It was a short walk from the campground to the administration building, a magnificent old stone structure built on a hill overlooking the lake. As I said before, much of the park had been built during the Great Depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps using the native stone that abounded in the region. The dance was held on a large grassy area behind the building and there was a good crowd by the time we got there.

Standing behind a large, trapezoidal wooden box was an oversized leprechaun with a graying beard and impish smile. The wooden box was a hammered dulcimer, looking for all the world like the inside of a piano with dozens of strings stretching across it. He was demonstrating with a pair of small wooden hammers, striking the strings and bringing forth an intriguing sound somewhere between a piano and a harpsichord.

After a few minutes, he grinned again and introduced himself as Dan Duggan. (You can check him out at Esperance Productions.) To get us in the mood for dancing, he played a sprightly Irish air on the dulcimer, accompanied by his wife Peggy on guitar. Our feet were tapping in no time at all. Dan was a master at teaching complete novices (like me!) how to contra dance. True to her word, Steph took the man's part opposite me, with Beth and Tony to my right and Alex and Kristen on my left. Dan was wearing one of those headset microphones that look so silly on pop stars, but it enabled him to talk to us while he demonstrated each movement with his wife, then the two of them played while Dan called the moves. How he managed to hit the right strings on that huge instrument with his eyes on the dancers was beyond me, but he was a wonderful musician.

Over the course of a thoroughly enjoyable evening, we learned how to swing and turn and allemande and do-si-do and I don't remember what all, but it was a complete joy to dance with my skirt swinging free and body moving to the music. Alex and Kristen, of course, were experts at the whole thing; his firm touch as he swung me around felt surprisingly natural. Julia had managed to find a young man to dance with her (as if that would be a problem for someone with her looks!) and was completely immersed in the dancing, as were Beth and Tony. As we gained a bit of experience, Dan increased the complexity of the moves, chaining together a series of simple moves into a complex pattern of motion rippling down the line of dancers until it reached the end and the last couple made their way back to the head of the line to start over.

All the while he was calling out the moves, his hands were flying over the hammered dulcimer playing jigs and reels and hornpipes and strathspeys. I had never heard of a strathspey before that night, but I found out that that it is a tune in 4/4 time with a couple of shorter notes thrown in to give it a bit of syncopation. Just hum that old chestnut "Loch Lomond" (You take the high road and I'll take the low road) or "Auld Lang Syne" to yourself and you'll get the idea.

As Steph and I proceeded down the line, I realized we had never gone dancing together. For that matter, I had never gone dancing, period. It was just not something I thought I enjoyed. I hated dancing in high school, bouncing around and jumping up and down seemed pointless to me. I liked the slow dances better, because you had to touch the girl, but I have two left feet, or maybe three. I don't see how I could have made so many dancing mistakes with less than three feet.

With that in my background, I had been a bit reluctant to come, but it seemed better than waiting around and biting my polished nails until Deb showed up to cause a fight. Funny how things like that work out; I found I was having a great time. For one thing, I could touch and hold Steph in front of a crowd of people without getting those curious or disapproving looks I had come to expect. There were at least half a dozen temporary same sex couples in the line dancing with us.

Then there was just how good my body felt as I moved and flowed with the music. My skirt was flying and swirling as I turned, the forms in my bra were bouncing and shimmying as I kicked and swayed. I felt more alive and feminine than ever, completely at home with the new life I had chosen for myself. As the dance ended, I put my arms around Stephanie and thanked whatever goddess had blessed me so to have found my true self.

The evening ended with Dan demonstrating the "Grapevine Twist". Taking the hand of the first person in the line, he created a human snake from the dozens of people dancing in line while Peggy kept up the music on her guitar. He had us twisting and whirling in great, complex patterns around the lawn as we followed his lead.

I know it's impossible for that single line of laughing, dancing people to have crossed itself, but I couldn't see how he managed to create the shapes he did without a massive pileup. Steph and I had just snapped out of a tight turn when I caught sight of Deb striding from the parking area, her face completely at odds with the crowd of happy vacationers. I wondered if she had managed to keep up a scowl like that for the entire drive from Buffalo or if she had only practiced on and off as she drove south.

I missed a step as I spotted her, but the inexorable force of the moving line pulled me along and I quickly returned to the joy of dancing, putting her out of my mind for the next few minutes. Alas, all things must end and Dan finished the dance with a flourish to a rousing round of applause from all present.

Well, all but Deb, who just wasn't partaking in the spirit of the evening. I felt Stephanie's arm slide around me in an unmistakable signal that she was not going to be intimidated by her sister-in-law. I noticed Tony gave Beth a good, solid kiss, which she returned with enthusiasm, before taking her hand and walking toward us — completely ignoring his mother. Julia gave her partner a peck on the cheek before heading over to our little group, sparing the poor boy from what was bound to be a difficult situation.

As Deb stalked closer, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I take it that's the angry mother approaching?" Alex asked.

"Right the first time." replied Stephanie.

"My Alex is such a keen observer." commented Kristen. "He can always spot the obvious after two or three tries."

"Well, I do have experience in coping with angry women, if you know what I mean."

I got the feeling that the only thing that saved Alex from a swat was Deb's arrival — solidarity and all that; don't show disunity before the common enemy. Overstating the case? Well, maybe, but I was not feeling charitable at the moment. It was good to have someone outside the family there to support us, too.

"Children, get in the car. We're going home." Clearly her Command Voice. She sounded like a general ordering the troops to evacuate. Steph started to take a breath to answer, but Julia beat her to it.

"No!"

Amazing how much fervor can be packed into one syllable. Julia had clearly inherited her mother's Command Voice. Silence reigned as Deb began to suffuse with color.

"Julia. You and your brother will not be staying here one more minute. I will not have you exposed to this sort of perversion, even if your father has lost his sense of morality."

"So, does your boyfriend have two extra bedrooms for us to use? I doubt Dad is going to want to have you in the house after this. How moral would it be for us to be staying in the place where you're committing adultery?"

"How dare you!" Deb's color took another step down the spectrum toward the red.

"Do you really think we don't know you've been cheating on Dad for months and months? We are not stupid and neither is he. I don't see how Aunt Kate could be considered a bad influence compared to your behavior."

It was for situations such as this that the old cliché 'horns of a dilemma' had been coined. Deb knew it was going to be hard to argue her case from the heights of moral superiority but was unwilling to let go easily. So far, the argument had not gotten loud, but there were several people around us who had picked up on the animosity in the air. I was starting to get worried about how badly this could get out of hand. Fortunately Alex, the social worker turned carpenter, had lost none of his people handling skills while developing his mechanical expertise. Why he had stuck around to mediate our family quarrel was beyond me, but friends do crazy things for their friends, don't they?

"Could I make a suggestion here?" his mellow, singer's voice slid in between the combatants. "There are families here who don't need to be disturbed. Perhaps we could adjourn to the benches over there by the flagpole where we could have a bit more privacy."

Ah, a direct action to be followed, one that made sense and was completely neutral. One that saved face and allowed everyone to get their emotions under control. We made our way to the circle of seats.

"I know I'm an outsider here," Alex continued when we were seated, "but perhaps that's just what is needed right now. All of you have come to be our friends and I hate to see my friends needlessly upset. I hope that I will be able to call you a friend as well, Mrs. Petrillo."

"I doubt it."

Still a hard case, but Alex didn't give up easily.

"Well, we'll just have to see what develops. From what I understand, you don't feel that Kate and Steph's lesbian relationship is good for your children. Am I correct in that?"

Oh-oh. I should have seen this coming. I felt Steph's grip tighten on my hand.

"Lesbian? What the hell are you talking about? That 'woman' is a perverted man running around in women's clothes!"

Her finger pointed unerringly at me. I saw Alex's eyes widen, but that was the only sign he was surprised. Kristen, on the other hand, had her jaw somewhere around her ankles. As interesting as their reactions were, there was no time to react as the conversation between Alex and Deb flowed on.

"Well, being transgendered does have some similarities to being lesbian, so we are not all that far afield. It's certainly a topic where reasonable people can disagree."

"I don't believe this." growled Deb. "It's wrong. It's just plain wrong for a man to dress like a woman!"

"Hypocrite," Tony said just loud enough to be heard.

"Perhaps, Tony. But that may be a little harsh. I know that I have several beliefs that would be hard to reconcile if I were to subject them to purely logical analysis. As humans, we have an amazing capacity to compartmentalize our emotions so we don't drive ourselves crazy when they conflict."

"You're damn right about the crazy part, Mister." Deb was still not admitting anything.

"There, we have one point of agreement already. I'm crazy and so are the rest of us. Let's see if we can keep up the momentum."

A lame joke, but it relieved the tension.

"Julia, I believe you've turned 18 and are legally an adult. Would you be willing to tell us what you think of your aunt's situation?"

"Jesus!" from Deb's mouth it was swearing, not invoking the Deity. "What is with this touchie-feelie group therapy crap again? We did this once already and I'm not buying it. My children are not going to live with perverts. Period!"

"Mother! I am your daughter, but I am no longer a child. As Alex just pointed out, I am now an adult and I will make my own decisions. I appreciate your feelings, but I don't agree with you. Aunt Kate is a decent and loving person who I am proud to know. I will not put her out of my life because of your prejudice. I'm not coming back with you."

"Me either!" declared Tony.

"Like hell you are. You are my children and you will do what I tell you. If I have to, I'll go over to the police station in that building and have them make you go home."

By this time the sun had set and we were surrounded by the beautiful twilit hills of the park, but there was precious little serenity to be found at the moment.

"Mrs. Petrillo, please calm down. We really should be able to do this without threats."

Deb was about to launch a rejoinder when Lucy padded over to her and gave her that big, brown-eyed stare that dogs seem to have patented. I had heard of therapy dogs and at that moment, Lucy seemed to know just what was needed. Unconsciously, Deb reached out and stroked Lucy's golden head and her anger began to dissipate. Perhaps all counselors should have a canine partner.

"While it's technically true," Alex continued, "that you have legal authority over Tony, the courts would be loathe to interfere in a case like this. The park police would not have jurisdiction in any case. You would have to convince a court that a PINS (Person In Need of Supervision) petition should be granted before you could legally enforce your will. As a practical matter, even if you went the legal route, you would not be able to get through the process before the vacation is over."

Instead of firing back, Deb hugged Lucy close to her and began to weep. "Not my children, they can't have my children!" came her voice, muffled by Lucy's golden fur. Looking around, I saw Kristen looking confused, Julia was crying with her mother and Beth was valiantly holding on to Tony's hand as he tried to be strong. Stephanie had me clutched tightly with her arm as we waited while Deb wept. Call me crazy, but even though I knew the woman hated me for what I was, I couldn't let her be alone in her pain. Quietly I went over and sat next to her as she held Lucy. Taking my cue from Alex's formal address, I spoke.

"Mrs. Petrillo, please believe me that I don't want to hurt either you or you family. I love Stephanie and will be with her for the rest of her life. I can't ask you to do what you think is wrong, but I can ask you to accept that our love is not going to go away. We have to learn to live together somehow. I will try to keep my distance if you feel that's necessary, but Tony and Julia have to make their own choices. Please give them the respect they deserve, even if you don't like what they choose. We won't solve this tonight, so I hope we can simply agree to disagree at this point and try again later."

"Love? What do you know about love? I've been trying to find it for twenty goddamn years and it hasn't shown up yet. Then you come along and pretend to be a woman and tell me you love my sister-in-law. How the hell can you do that?"

She clasped poor Lucy even closer and continued to weep.

"Mrs. Petrillo, I'm not an expert by any means, but it took me twenty years to find Stephanie. One thing I have learned, though, the harder you look for love the harder it is to find. You have to be open to it when it arrives. You have to be willing to change and accept it. I couldn't do it as a man, no matter how hard I tried. I had to learn to accept the feminine side of me before I could accept being loved and return that love. That was how it worked for me, but it probably won't work that way for you. We each have to find what is right for us, not what is right for everybody else.

"Look," I continued, "Tom seems like a decent and caring man from what little I know of him. There must be something between the two of you that you can build on or you wouldn't have been together long enough to raise two intelligent and caring children. Were you expecting 'happily ever after' from a fairy story? The kind of nonsense you see in the soap operas? Perfection from the first time you saw him? World shaking passion every time you make love?

"It just doesn't work like that, but the culture we live in keeps telling us that damned lie about perfection. Love is a web of little things like rolling up the toothpaste tube, smiling at him when you're pissed off, sharing a sunset, remembering a touch. Once in a while, you get a brass band marching down the street proclaiming your love to the world, but how many times do you go to see a parade in a year? The memory is great to have, but one memory is not the whole of real love.

"You have to share something between you. If you think that what you have now isn't working, then maybe it's time to try something different, Try that something different with each other before you go to someone else. Find a way to rebuild the trust that let led you to be married in the first place. Maybe you need a counselor, maybe you can do it yourselves, but you both have to be willing to try.

"Whatever you do, please don't make the children a battleground for your differences. They love you both; forcing them to take sides will only make things worse. Please let them love both of you, no matter what happens with you and Tom. Let them have their whole family, no matter what happens between you and me. Stephanie and I are here to help if you want it, I know Bernie and Lucy will stand by you as well. Speaking of Lucys, that soggy hunk of fur you're using for a handkerchief is called Lucy, too. She's obviously willing to give you all the love you need. Not unconditional love, you have to keep petting her, but she has enough love for a whole army of hurting souls.

"It's getting late, I think we need to get back to the campsite now. If you want to come back tomorrow and talk, we'll be here. If you want to wait until we get home, that's all right with us too. All of us want to see you and Tom happy again. Get some rest and think about it. Please."

I took a chance and gave her a quick hug, then took Stephanie's hand and started for the campground. I was pleased to see Julia and Tony kiss their mother; even Beth gave her a hug before they left. As we turned the corner of the road to the campsite, Deb was still visible in the circle of lamplight around the flagpole. I hoped she would find her way to happiness somehow.

---

We were a very quiet group as we walked back to the campground. When we lost sight of Deb, the spell was broken.

"Oh lord!" Stephanie moaned. "How did you two do it? I felt so helpless just sitting there. I couldn't think of a thing to say, but both of you were… were…." She couldn't seem to find the word she wanted. "Kate, how could you be so kind after what she said about you? And Alex! You didn't have to be part of this whole mess, but you were so wonderful. I hope we haven't ruined your vacation. How can we ever thank you?"

"You could start by clueing me in on little matters like not being lesbians before things get so intense. Was she telling the truth about you, Kate?"

"I'm afraid so. I was born male, but that seems a long time ago. I am what I am now, if that makes any sense."

"You had me completely fooled!" That was Kristen. "And when I think what we talked about driving up the mountain!"

"But you haven't been fooled, Kristen. What you see is what I really am. This isn't a costume and we're not in a play where we abandon our characters when the curtain falls. I am Kate as surely as you are Kristen or Alex is Alex. This is the reality of my life, not what I was at some time in the past. I'm not going to worry about labels like 'lesbian' or 'transsexual' or anything else. What you see is what you get. That's the reality."

"I don't know. It seems so confusing."

"Like I said, that's reality. Only novels tie things up in pretty packages when they end. Life is messy and full of surprises."

"You can say that again!" Beth said with feeling. "I go for a date with a cute guy and the next thing I know I'm in the middle of a soap opera. If my folks had any idea what was going on, I'd be grounded for the next year!"

"Good thing they're on vacation, isn't it? You'll have time to come up with an innocuous story about what you did on your summer vacation by the time they come home."

"I guess I'll have to. They would never believe me if I told them the truth! Hey — Wait a minute! You're encouraging me to lie to my parents?"

"Would telling 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth' help anyone here?"

"You've got to be kidding!"

"So, let this be something you tell your parents in about ten years, when you're safely married and they can't do anything about it but laugh."

By this time we had arrived back at the campground.

"Speaking of storytelling," Alex said, "Shall we start a fire and see if we can tell a few tall stories that have no connection to family strife, gender roles or other difficult subjects. Lucy can start, she knows a lot of shaggy dog stories."

The motion was seconded and passed with an enthusiastic voice vote. I can't say we didn't think of our problems for the rest of the vacation, but in a day or so we managed to put them aside and enjoy ourselves hiking and swimming and appreciating nature.

What else are vacations for?

Kate, Part 5 From Psychiatry to Pirandello By Ricky

I arose far too early; I was just too damn excited to sleep. I envied Steph, asleep in our bed, who could sleep through anything short of a tremor at the upper end of the Richter scale. Today I would see the gatekeeper - the person who could open the door to femininity my heart told me to enter. However, just because I was up early didn't mean I got dressed and started my day. What I did was agonize - what should I wear? This appointment was critical, I wanted it to go smoothly. I suppose most born women face this challenge of what image to project on a regular basis, but for me it was a first.

I had to be completely convincing as a woman on today of all days, but what kind of woman? Casual? Chic? Businesslike? Provocative? I put off my decision with a long, hot shower. I shaved everything that needed shaving, moisturized, pasteurized and plasticized and otherwise used every bottle and tube available to make my skin look beautiful before returning to the bedroom. .

The bra was easy, I had just gotten a new one with more lace on it than I usually favored. Because of the forms I tended to wear substantial bras to keep them firmly in place, but today I wanted to be as feminine as I could from the skin out. I carefully applied the glue to my forms and pressed them, one by one, into place. Something else I didn't normally do - the darn things start to itch in the heat of the summer so I normally wore my forms in their cloth covers. Once again the desire to have my own breasts burned within me!

I returned to the full light of the bathroom to be sure they were placed properly, I surely didn't want to come off lopsided for the doctor! The mirror assured me I had done it right. With them firmly attached I snapped up my powder pink bra, appreciating it's support for the weights now hanging off my body.

Today was the day for doing things I usually don't do - like wearing a gaff. A woman of my age needs to be careful about wearing tight skirts so I seldom did, much preferring the loose, flowing look. I like to feel the hem swirling around my legs! But today was special so I carefully inserted my manhood into myself and strapped myself up tightly before stepping into the matching panties. Taking a cue from Narcissus I studied my reflection closely. No hips, but trim and sleek. If it weren't for the edges of my forms protruding from the bra it could well have been a born female staring back.

Returning to the bedroom I noticed an unaccustomed bounce in my boobs, pleasant but a bit distracting. It was time to decide. Professional woman, the thought came into my head. OK, nice contrast - sexy underwear below and tailored elegance on top. I sat on the chair and pulled on a pair of nude pantyhose and put my feet into simple black flats. I shrugged into a simple white blouse with just a hint of lace at the collar. No cleavage, of course. A charcoal grey skirt, just above the knee and matching blazer and I was dressed.

Now the jewelry. Dangly or simple? Dangly, of course. I love watching as the pendulum swings beneath a woman's earlobe. Call me sentimental, but the emeralds that matched our engagement rings were the obvious choice. A couple of gold bangles on my arm and a green scarf around my neck and I had the look I wanted.

Then, with Steph still sleeping, I made my way back to the bathroom with a collection of bottles and such to do my makeup. I did my best to be subtle and effective with the makeup and I think I succeeded. Great! I was done!

Problem was, I had two hours before the appointment. I fooled around in the kitchen, made a light breakfast for us when Steph woke up and waited impatiently. At last the clock crawled to the appointed time, so I unstrapped my nether regions and made a pit stop before leaving. Didn't your mother always tell you to take care of such things before leaving the house? Especially true for people wearing a gaff!

I'll admit it, I was nervous, not knowing what to expect. My first thought on entering the office was that for someone specializing in gender issues, the doctor's office was surprisingly sterile. I got to fill out many pages of paperwork for the receptionist, then sat down, trying to control my impatience. At last, I heard my name called.

I'm not going to go into detail about the session, it's too painful. The doctor, if you'll pardon my vulgarity, had a stake up his ass and seemed to think the DSM and the Harry Benjamin Standards were handed down in stone tablets from Mount Sinai, with every word to be taken as gospel. How could a psychiatrist be so damned inflexible and bureaucratic? Suffice it to say that, in his mind, my unusual path to gender change disqualified me from consideration.

I managed to make it back to the car before I started crying. To hell with the makeup, to hell with the doctor, to hell with everything! Steve wasn't much for crying but Kate had a good cry while cursing the insensitive bastard who called himself a doctor. It felt good and by the time the tears ended I had recovered my composure; the only problem was what to do about the mess on my face.

I hadn't been in the woman's world long enough to keep a box of tissues in the pickup, but I managed to find a couple of fairly clean napkins from the last trip through the McDonald's drive through. Didn't help much, but the black streaks down my cheeks disappeared. I did what I could with the supplies in my purse, but you could still tell I had been crying.

When I got home I damn near rear ended Bernie's van. What was he doing in our driveway? The last thing I needed now was to have him see me looking like a complete wreck! I almost put the car in reverse but before I could make up my mind there he was, coming down the walkway. Too late! I just got out of the car and stood there, there was no energy left to do anything else.

The goddess bless Bernie! He took one look at me and surrounded me with a big hug, holding me tight as I broke down in tears again. He stroked my back and I was aware of a low murmur. In my state the words were meaningless but the tone spoke directly to my heart.

"What are you doing here, Bernie?" I finally asked.

"Performing the typically masculine role of being a source of strength and comfort for a woman in need."

"The bastard shrink I just saw wouldn't agree about the woman part!"

"Then screw him! There are lots of other shrinks in the world, find one that isn't a bastard."

"After this one I don't know. How can I find one that isn't a bastard?"

"Hey kid, how would you go about hiring a caterer if you weren't almost related to the finest caterer in the state?"

"Jeez - how would I know?" I sniffed. "I've never thrown a party bigger than a keg and a package of hot dogs."

"Not even a salad? Philistine!"

"No - college student. When I was a student we wouldn't have been caught dead eating healthy!"

"I take your point. Well then, what would you do, Ms. College Professor, when you need the aid of a professional?"

"I guess I'd ask around, maybe do a little research on the topic."

"Bingo! I take it you failed to research the psychiatrist of whom you speak so disparagingly?"

"Uh, yeah." I admitted sheepishly."

"You know, I've had clients that did everything but hire a private detective before they hired me, yet you go roaring off to some unknown bozo, a bozo who holds your new life in his hands, without so much as checking his credentials?"

"Sounds pretty stupid when you put it that way."

"Mamma told me there were times to keep my mouth shut. This may be one of them."

He was right, but I was enveloped in another hug that took the sting out of his message.

OK, so now that I'm writing this all down I have a bit of perspective, but back then I was devastated. I had no idea how easily I had made the transition into femininity, how little resistance I had encountered. Sure my Internet research made me aware of the stories of many others who took a similar path, but I hadn't really absorbed the pain and anguish inherent in those stories. I hadn't gone through the years of self doubt, the constant need to put up a false face for the world while crying inside.

In the few months that Kate had been around I had been almost exclusively surrounded by supportive and positive people like Bernie, who knew very well I was born a male but was unselfconsciously holding me in his arms like the woman I was becoming. In this rural area I didn't have to worry about neighbors discovering anything. With the exception of Deb I had not encountered any resistance.

There is a theory that the explosion of allergies among children is caused by our overly clean and disinfected society. Their young immune systems are not challenged by the bugs and germs that we were evolved to encounter, so the immune system never develops properly. My defenses for the transition had not really been challenged, so when I ran into that bastard shrink I had no idea how to respond, thus the tears.

"So maybe it would be a good idea if you did a little research? Find some other people who share your, um, proclivities? From what I've seen on line there's an active transgender 'community' out there."

"My lord, you even know the jargon!"

"If there's one thing I've learned in business, you better know your market or you end up broke."

"Or at least broken hearted. So what are you really here for?" I asked.

"Well, the girls are doing the invitations for the wedding we were planning to pick cherries before your little bombshell, if you remember."

"Huh? Didn't we do that at the Pie Festival?"

"Those were sweet cherries. Now it's the end of sour cherry season - the ones you use to bake pies and such."

"I'm afraid such subtleties were not included in my culinary upbringing."

"Like those hot dogs, I take it. And since we have been engaged to cater your wedding it seemed like a good idea to stop by and talk about what you two want."

"Well, right now I want to change out of these clothes and get myself cleaned up."

A wonderfully practical idea.

---

Practical! After meeting with that jerk I wanted to put on the frilliest, most feminine clothes I owned, along with the sexiest lingerie and shoes with about a 12" heel. Feminine, dammit! Not Practical! Problem was, from my foray at the Pie Festival I knew I was going to be covered in red cherry juice before long. Reluctantly, I changed into an older pair of jeans with a few paint splotches and a T-shirt, not neglecting my padded panty to give the jeans some shape. I removed the lacy bra and donned one that wouldn't look ridiculous under the T-shirt.

I scrubbed my ravaged face and applied some minimal makeup in an attempt to hide the blotchiness from my crying jag. Hurrying to join the family at the van I found Steph's sister Lucy riding shotgun while I found myself seated next to 10 year old Ben for the short drive to Hurd Orchards. His 15 year old sister Karen sat in the back seat with Stephanie. Why is it when a 10 year old looks at you that closely you get a sinking feeling in your stomach?

"Hi Aunt Kate," he offered.

"Hi yourself, Ben."

"You got paint on your pants."

"I've been painting. I'm a lousy painter and I drip a lot."

"Can I help? I won't drip anything!"

"Ben, old buddy, you can have the whole job if you want it."

"Cool! Can I help Aunt Kate, Dad?"

"Child labor is illegal in this state - for anyone but the kid's parents, that is."

"Awww Dad!"

"We'll see. I suspect the results may not be worth the effort."

"As long as it's not my effort, I don't care!"

"Wait a minute!" Stephanie cried. "This is my house you're talking about. Do I get a say?"

"I haven't noticed a paint brush in your hand lately."

"I manage, you work. It's called division of labor."

"So I'm subcontracting. You're hired, Ben."

"Really?"

"Really. You can paint the lattice under the porch while I do the gingerbread on top."

"How much do I get paid?"

"Paid? Who said anything about pay? I thought you wanted to be nice to your old Aunties."

"Hey Dad - I need an agent. You want 10 percent for the job?"

"You got yourself an agent, son."

"Some father you are, eating 10 percent of the coconut-almond cookies I was going to bake for him. You ought to be ashamed!"

"Business is business. Now, about hours - I think he should remain on the premises for at least the next four days or until the job is done. Lucy and I need a vacation."

"On second thought, maybe I should do the job myself."

"Before you entrepreneurial geniuses dig yourself too deep a hole," Stephanie reminded us, "remember we have to get the cherries done before we do any painting. Besides, we're here."

We pulled up to the quaint sales area in front of the massive old barn. Bernie went in and came out with several buckets. A quick trip down the road, a left turn and then a right into the woods and we were at the cherry orchard.

As we got out of the car I whispered to Steph "How do you tell if they're ripe?"

"With sour cherries they get a translucent look when they're ready. The whole tree usually ripens at once, so don't worry - just pick!"

"I'm more familiar with sour grapes, thank you!"

"Look, just because my nephew got an agent, you don't have to cry about it."

"Cry?" I laughed, "That kid's going to be rich some day. 'Ten percent' my rear end!"

"Sorry, I have 100% of your rear end - agent or no agent."

"Even if only 80% of it is me and the rest is padded panty?"

"I like your rear end better when your panties are off. You can wear your bra, though, I think it's sexy when you make love to me with it on."

"Let's change the subject or I'm going to be embarrassed in front of family."

"We can always go a few more trees over and do something about that, you know."

"Damn! I knew I should have worn a skirt. Both of us. Let me take a rain check or before Bernie starts to get suspicious.

"Spoilsport. You can lick the cherry juice off me when we're finished."

"Deal!"

With the six of us it didn't take long to fill the containers with cherries. We returned to have the bounty weighed and paid for. Being such a lovely day we bought some of the home baked sweetbread and some drinks, then sat at one of the picnic tables to eat. There were a few sweet cherries left at the very top of the trees, so Ben swarmed up and picked them. Very nice with the baked goodies.

It didn't take long for me to drop a cherry on my jeans, which left a bright red mark along with the paint splotches.

"Nice pattern, Aunt Kate! Commented Karen. "A work of art! You going to decorate your bridal gown like that?

"Just one of my many talents, child. The gown came pre-embroidered so I think I'll leave it as it came."

Maybe it was reaction to my earlier despair, maybe it was the ebullient company of family, but I found myself feeling almost giddy. I took the offending cherry and gave it a squeeze, drawing a line on my jeans to extend the 'artwork'.

"Cool! Can I try?" asked Ben.

"For a small fee, you mercenary child."

"How much you asking?"

"A bite of the sweetbread you hogged!"

"Done!"

I took a bite of the sweetbread and soon found myself a canvas for the artistic talents of Ben and Karen. My jeans were soon covered with artistically applied cherry juice. It was sticky on the way home, but Stephanie was able to help me clean it off when the family left. Nothing like snacking in bed to improve the day!

---

There's nothing like working in the house and garden to take your mind off disappointment. That is unless you're weeding, that provides too much time to think about your troubles. So I got out the pruning shears and attacked the bushes, amazing how a little hacking and destruction will serve to release your frustration. When I ran out of bushes I mowed the lawn, not an inconsiderable task with 2.2 acres. Then there was edging the drive, painting the porch and other necessary tasks when you own a house, or at least live with someone who owns a house. Being a tenant was much less work but living with the landlord had its perks.

Do you realize how ridiculous I felt putting on my panties and stuffing my bra, then putting on Steve's oldest and most disreputable T-shirt and jeans to paint the porch? Even if a glance in the mirror revealed the unmistakable bulge of breasts beneath my T-shirt? In a shameless bid for a little more femininity I tied a kerchief over my head to keep the paint drops from my hair. It didn't help when Stephanie collapsed in laughter when she saw me come out of the barn with a bucket of paint in one hand and a brush in the other. Where the heck was the goddess that assured me of my femininity in the woods just days before?

So what if I was wearing dangly earrings? Is that so comical, I ask you? Don't real woman dress practically for a messy job? Would you wear a skirt and then climb up a ladder to paint the gingerbread trim along the porch roof? Am I any less feminine splotched with green paint?

Dammit, stop laughing!

Actually, the concentration of covering all those little spindles evenly with paint was just what the doctor ordered while waiting to see what the doctor would order. After an few minutes up on the ladder I was reminded that having breasts could be a challenge. Just as it had taken me a little while to avoid bumping them on doorframes and such when I first got my forms, now I had to learn how to avoid mashing them on the rungs of the ladder or catching them as I leaned out to get the brush just a little farther out so I didn't have to climb down and move the ladder again.

My concentration was broken by the sound of a car coming up the driveway, not that it would have taken much to distract me from the fussy, boring task at hand. I couldn't see who it was from my perch atop the ladder, but I heard the car door open. The idea of a stranger seeing me like this wasn't very appealing. I finished the last couple of spindles within reach and descended the ladder to see who was there.

I know it wouldn't have done me any good, but I should have stayed up on the ladder. For that matter I should have stayed in bed, for standing before me, shaking his head in consternation, was Carl Santos, the Dean of the English Department. What the hell was he doing in my driveway?

I won't say time stood still, but it did wobble a bit. How long it quivered I couldn't say because if time was off kilter how could I guess how long it stayed that way? I know it was long enough to succumb to a flash of guilt, reject any guilt at being who I am, then be utterly embarrassed for being dressed like a refugee from an explosion in a paint factory.

Shaking his head the Dean muttered "Jesus Christ in the garden! Maybe she wasn't a lunatic after all!"

"Then I guess that leaves the job open for me." I answered. "I must say I never expected you to be dropping by during the summer."

"Obviously. I must say I never expected to meet you under these conditions, either. A very disturbed woman came to the school yesterday claiming that you were a sexual pervert who was trying to corrupt her children. She raised quite a fuss and demanded to speak to the 'man in charge' about a professor who was insulting women by pretending to be one. Just my luck I'd decided to spend the morning going over paperwork and was there to be harassed, so I got stuck talking to her."

"Let me guess - perfect hair, perfect makeup, tailored suit and pickle face. Deborah Petrillo by name."

"You know her?"

"An inevitable and regrettable side effect of falling in love. She will be my sister-in-law in a few months. She doesn't much approve of the me."

"And I thought I'd heard understatement before…. His voice faded out like a 1950s rock & roll song. With a shake he continued "Hands-on administrator that I am, I decided to come to see you to find out what's going on."

"Which clarified the problem but doesn't help you very much. I had really intended to go through formal channels to notify the college of my gender transition."

"And I should have taken that vacation to New Zealand but, no, I had to stay and work. Christ, Steve, do you know how much paperwork you're going to cause me?"

"I have a stack of papers of my own and keep getting new forms every time I see another professional. I had hoped to have my paperwork in order before creating headaches for you."

"What the hell? Paperwork creates headaches, it doesn't cure them. I don't suppose you'd consider transferring to the Dance Department or something?"

"I only got her to dance with me in public once. Fat chance she'd dance at a recital or anything public."

Stephanie had arrived.

"Come up on the porch and sit down, no sense standing on the blacktop in the sun." she offered. I'm Stephanie Petrillo and she's Kate. It's my brother that married the pickle puss.

"Pleased to meet you, Stephanie. Carl Santos, resident curmudgeon and dean of English if I survive this latest, ahem, challenge. Forgive me if I take a rain check on whether I'm pleased to meet you, Kate.

"Come on Carl," Stephanie answered, "nobody, except maybe me, is 'pleased' that Steve has let Kate come out, but thank you for the thought. After all the trouble Deb has caused in the last few weeks I'm not surprised she's still at it. So how much difficulty has she caused at the college?"

"Other than making me spend half an hour listening to her invective and prejudices? She seems to have bypassed the administration and gone directly to the English department. When she claimed Steve was gay, running around in dresses and was going to corrupt her daughter when she became a student at the college I was skeptical enough to come to see for myself before things got out of hand."

"Well, at least I'm not currently wearing a dress, but once I finish painting that's going to change."

"You certainly aren't going to grace the cover of Cosmo any time soon. You did have some of us wondering about after the school break, but no one thought something like this was coming. You're not the guy we knew any more!"

"I don't feel much like that guy, either. I'm afraid I'm going to be testing the college's commitment to diversity as soon as I can convince the powers-that-be that Kate is real and she has the papers to prove it.. Of course without tenure all you have to do is not renew my contract and I'm history, but that won't stop me."

After the adventures of the last couple of weeks I had gotten pretty good at recounting my journey to femininity and once again had a chance to hone my storytelling skills. At this rate maybe I should make the Dean happy and transfer to the theater department so I would be able to put these refined skills to better use! In any case, I gave him the abridged version of the Ballad of Kate.

"Cripes, you don't do things halfway, do you?" was his reply.

Actually I fully intended to 'do things halfway' and keep my male genitalia but live as a woman with real breasts, but I wasn't going to go into that much detail with my Dean.

"Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Sir. "

"I suppose that even considering your current — ahem — casual dress, my eyes tell me I'm sitting here with two women, your presentation in a professional situation should be acceptable."

"I intend to dress and act properly for the situation, sir."

"Indeed. I fear that no matter how well you present yourself there will be considerable juicy gossip in the corridors. You're taking quite a chance, Kate. Your performance on the job has been quite up to the standards I expect and your students seem to like you, but…."

I hadn't intended to say anything until a psychiatrist has had time to evaluate me and, I hope, make my transgender status official. Did it constitute 'grasping as straws' to hope I could speed up the transition given the Dean's seeming acceptance?

"Forgive me for asking a personal question, Kate, but do you really want to be a woman for the rest of your life?"

"Without any doubt, sir. As much trouble as it will cause, I think the effort is worth it. I will try to work with you and the administration to make the transition as smooth as possible. I realize this is going to put considerable strain on you, sir, and do not wish to make it any more difficult than necessary."

"I'm going to have to consult the Engineering Department to see if they can provide a dispensation from the intervention of Mr. Murphy. Oh, and enough with the 'sirs' already. You've never struck me as a brownnoser.

"Ok, Carl. The situation seemed to call for some formality."

"Give me a few days to ruminate on this. While I am head of the department, there will be quite a few others that will have to concur before we can come to terms.

"I can sympathize. I've found that even the gods themselves can't speed up a bureaucracy. If there's one thing bureaucracies love it's official paperwork and I have to jump through the proper hoops to convince the godlike beings that control our destiny, known as gender therapists, of what I already know."

"Speaking of therapists, I've been talking with Andy in the counseling department, he would be a good resource in explaining things to our colleagues. He's also a very calming influence. I intend to return as Ms. Tucker this fall if the gods are willing and I don't get fired. I suppose for the wedding I'll have to revert to Steve, but that will be the last time."

"Wait a minute!" cried Stephanie. Who told you I'm marrying Steve? I want Kate at my side and no one else!"

"Well, I suppose if you can clean up this red haired hoyden and put her in a dress instead of these rags it might work."

To my utter disbelief Dean Santos had a shit eating grin on his face. He was having entirely too much fun!

"Of course you might have a time convincing the preacher that the marriage is legal since our dysfunctional legislators are still playing politics with the gay marriage laws in New York. Have to rewrite the 'man and wife' bit in the ceremony too."

"I protest! I'll have you know that as an Associate Professor of the English Language I am perfectly capable of writing a ceremony that avoids such stereotypical gender references. Besides, a two bride ceremony is one way to keep Deb from attending and making a scene."

"And two brides won't cause a scene?" the Dean inquired innocently.

Innocent. Right!

"Want to be one of my bridesmaids, Carl? That should shift the attention from me."

While I have been blessed with a slim and relatively neutral body that makes it possible to look like Kate as well as feel like Kate, the Dean was hairy as a gorilla and as shaped like one as well.

"Nah, I don't much care for pastels and flowers and such. Rather go fishing, myself."

"Well, keep the date open, you're invited to watch the show."

Pulling his PDA from his pocket he asked "What date would that be?"

"Well, we haven't set a date yet."

"Then there's no time like the present," Stephanie interjected. "Let me get the calendar."

She was gone in an instant, leaving me to stare at my bemused Academic Leader and wonder what the hell was happening!"

"Lady seems to know her own mind, doesn't she?" he commented.

"Especially as far as me being a lady."

"And you don't have any doubts?" he asked

"Oddly enough, I don't. I don't want to get all mystic or anything, but this is where I was meant to go in my life. The revelation happened late, but it happened and nothing can take me back to where I was before."

"Well, I suppose you still qualify as crazy, that hasn't changed. I recall your previous self extolling the virtues of camping and hiking and swimming and such?

"You see the trailer over there?" I pointed. "We only stopped here for a week to tend the garden and do some chores. You're lucky you found us home at all. We head out Sunday for Niagara Falls."

"I'd hardly consider being dropped into the middle of a sex change drama lucky."

At that point Steph returned with the kitchen calendar.

"I suppose we should get married before school starts again, that way if you get fired you can get health coverage through me. Mom will be royally pissed with only a month to plan a wedding, but I'm not going to sweat it."

Back when I was a kid the family once went to an amusement park. My friend had talked me into going on something called the Wild Mouse. It was a compact roller coaster with very small cars that fit into a couple of trucks for transport. It was several stories tall - in my memory it was higher than the Empire State Building, but I'm biased - and didn't look so bad from the outside, but once I was on that sucker I was scared shitless.

Those cars moved fast! At every bend I felt like the Wile E Coyote , hanging in midair after he chased the Road Runner off the cliff. My stomach stayed behind every time that damned car made a 90 degree turn without slowing down one bit. I screamed and cried and begged but nothing helped, I just kept getting whipped around those corners until I got to the bottom of the maze. Then the infernal thing kept right on going and did it all again! Is it any wonder I haven't had any contact with my friend in years?

Why do I digress? Because right then I felt like I was back on that ride heading toward a sign that read 'JUST MARRIED'. The wedding had been off in some nebulous future until just a few seconds ago, now it was staring me in the face.

"Well, let's see…" mused Stephanie. "We have the few days in Niagara Falls. Hey! I bet we can find a couple of wedding dresses somewhere in the Honeymoon City, so we kill two birds with one vacation. Which brings us to July 21st for your gender therapist's appointment. We can still spend a few days in the Thousand Islands with Alex and Kristen. Then we can stay home a few days with Mom so she can release her inner wedding planner and we can take care of the place."

"We can really piss her off by going to see the Frank Lloyd Wright houses on the weekend of August 12th, but we better spend the next week here because there is always something to go wrong at the last minute. What do you say we get married on Saturday August 20th, so you can go back to school as Mrs. Tucker on Tuesday. Let's hope Bernie hasn't got anything booked for the catering. No time for a honeymoon after the wedding, so we can do it ahead of time next week in the Falls. Think that would work, Honey?"

Remember the Wild Mouse? Did I mention that I puked all over the little car about halfway through the ride. I was trying to spare your sensibilities, dear reader. Forget that now, my stomach was doing flip flops at Stephanie's rapid fire recital. I was distracted by the Dean's bearlike laughter.

"Kate, if you could see your face…" He couldn't get anything more out for the belly laugh that followed.

"Stephanie, have you lost your mind? How can Bernie cater the wedding when he's going to be my Maid of Honor?"

The Dean dissolved into another cluster of belly laughs.

"Seriously, Steph, can we pull it off that fast?"

"Why not, as long as we keep Mother out of most of the planning. I went through the huge wedding scene the first time around and it cost me a decade of heartbreak and trouble. I don't want this to be any more complicated than a dinner party. This time I'm old enough to realize that the wedding isn't as important as the marriage."

"That's a thought that should be engraved on the wedding license." Carl offered ferverently.

"Which brings up the question: who is going to be willing to marry us. We may be technically legal in New York, but it could be touchy finding someone to perform the ceremony."

"What about Alex and Kristen's minister? From the way they talk he seems to be pretty open minded."

"Why not just find a Justice of the Peace and avoid the religious part. Neither of us is very religious, after all."

"I'd really rather a civil ceremony, I've had enough of churches to last a lifetime but there's Mother."

"Got to be blessed by the Great Father in order to be real, eh?

"Don't be sarcastic, Kate. We need to keep peace in the family. Just being yourself has caused enough turmoil."

"Then let's talk to Alex first, OK?"

"Second. Lucy is first if I want to avoid sororicide."

"My dear," put in the Dean, "have your considered that the both of you will need at least a few days in your schedule to prepare for the fall semester?"

We seemed to have forgotten the Dean was listening to all of this.

"Oh damn. We may have to forget about the Thousand Islands?"

"Maybe we can just do Five Hundred Islands to save time?" I asked.

"Speaking of time, you do realize the catalog and course schedule have already been sent to the printers and you will be listed as Stephen Tucker. Even if we can get the powers-that-be to accept your sudden new persona your students will be an issue."

"I expected that, Carl. More than a few will be returning from last year. I have been rehearsing my class greetings in my head for some time now. I can take the heat if it doesn't cause the college too much notoriety."

"Well, we've had transgendered students before, so it's not like the faculty hasn't had some experience, but I fear some of our colleagues will be challenged by your lifestyle. School policy or no, people will talk and there's sure to be some nasty talk."

"I've also been practicing 'quiet dignity' in my head as well. I fully intend to greet my colleagues with civility and calm explanations. At least there are handicapped facilities nearby so I won't have to cope with the bathroom issue."

"Good Lord! I never thought of that. Marge would have a fit if…."

"So she would. She still may, but I hope that we can prepare the faculty for my arrival and make it clear that I am just another professor doing her job."

"St — Kate, I don't want to loose your services, especially so close to the start of the semester. I don't understand why you want to do this, but I don't need to understand — other than my own curiosity. As an administrator I am committed to providing the best learning environment for our students. If you meet those standards I will do everything in my power to make sure you have the opportunity to live and work in the way you see fit."

"Thank you, Carl. Sometime when you've had time to digest all this I would be glad to sit down and talk about why I want to live as a woman. Maybe I can find a way to make it seem to make sense."

"That ought to be an interesting conversation! After a public sex change and a wedding, a quiet conversation ought to be a relaxing change. And I do look foreword to attending the wedding. A two bride ceremony will be a first for me. Thinking back to my own wedding, I can't imagine how two brides could possibly agree on all the details without causing a premature divorce!"

"Simple." Stephanie responded. "We keep it simple. It will to be a small wedding, nothing fancy. We limit the guest list to family and friends, keep my mother in the dark until a few days before the ceremony, have Bernie put up the tent we used for the Pie Festival and get married right here so we don't have to rent a hall. Like I said, Mom will be upset, but it's our wedding."

"As long as Bernie's Uncle Shimon gets invited. The whole thing's a joke and he has to be included."

"As long as you invite Cliff from the college. He and Uncle Shimon seemed to get along and they can be the entertainment!" Stephanie laughed.

"I'm afraid Cliff is in Zimbabwe or Timbuktu or some such place on sabbatical." Carl told us.

"Damn! I guess we'll just have to learn some bad jokes and fend for ourselves."

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Hi Lucy, it's Steph. - Great, we're just about to take off for Niagara Falls. - Look, Lucy, are you booked for August 20th? - Saturday? Wonderful! Kate and I just set the date - Saturday, August 20.

Stephanie was forced to hold the cell phone about three feet from her ear until her sister calmed down.

"………."

(That's a much longer pause than a '…'). I could almost understand Lucy as she shouted into her phone.

"Shrimp, Lucy, we have to have shrimp. Anything else is gravy. You know what I mean. Invitations? Yeah, I guess we have to send them out right away. Right, tomorrow. You going to help? Tell Karen she needs to look pretty, Kate needs some bridesmaids."

The conversation continued for quite a bit longer, but it won't advance the plot so I won't report it. The Dean and I grinned at each other, there being enough of Steve in me to appreciate the irony of the bride rushing a wedding. The Dean ostentatiously added the date to his PDA and stood. To my surprise he enveloped me in a bear hug and spoke his congratulations. How had I thought I hadn't any friends when I reviewed my life? My nebulous goddess must be watching over me to bring people like Dean Santos into my life as Kate.

---

The next morning I awoke a determined woman. Yes, woman! Before the day was through I was going to find a gender therapist of some kind to set my official transition in motion. I fired up the computer and started searching. I posted queries on several transgender boards, asking for recommendations in my area. That done, I was distracted by one of those targeted ads. Now, normally I can ignore the annoying things, but this one said: "Male Breast Augmentation" in big red letters.

Male Breast Augmentation.

Yeah, I was interested, so I broke my rule about ignoring come-on ads and clicked. I should have known better. It was one of those places selling a miracle cream that would give you real boobs without surgery. If that stuff worked there would be a few million women with watermelons where their breasts were supposed to reside.

Still… I typed the phrase into Google and was rewarded with a few thousand sites. Most of them were still for women, but there was that guy who got them for a bet in the late nineties. Still had them, as far as I could tell from the net.

To my surprise, there were several sites with some very carefully worded suggestions that they would do such surgery for men who wanted them for career purposes. 'Career Purposes' Could that be a nice way to say CD stripper or maybe CD prostitute?

So- I wouldn't necessarily need a psychiatrist's permission to have real breasts!

Then again, the college might take some convincing to let me stay employed. Still, it was nice to know I had options.

---

"Anything to declare?"

Do you realize just how hard it is to ignore that straight line? The trim young man at the Canadian border had probably heard about every possible smartass answer to that question so I valiantly replied with a simple "No". Besides, I was feeling rather disoriented since for the border crossing I had to match the photo on my license. Why did it feel like I was impersonating Steve instead of reverting to the personality I had lived under for my entire life?

As we pulled away from the crossing I muttered "Just a few minutes and I can be myself! How did I live almost all my life without realizing that Kate was who I really was?"

"I suppose you can't miss something unless you've experienced it first."

"I was almost afraid they would bust me for impersonation back there. Which way do we go - the signs are confusing as hell."

"Follow the signs for the 420 and don't hit any of the crazy people in the way."

"Why do tourists seem to think they can run out into the streets and not get hit? Where did they all come from?"

"They raise them in hatcheries then release them each summer so RV drivers will have something to target."

"Do I need a special license?"

"Nah, just a good lawyer if you hit one. There, just keep going three miles and we should find the campground."

"Hardly seems like there could be enough open country only three miles away for a campground."

"The place isn't that big. There are still working farms within walking distance of the falls if you like a moderate hike."

"Do tourists hike?"

"Think of the Rockies - they hike there. Don't miss the turn."

"Hey! I only winged that tourist. Do I have to track him down and make a clean kill?"

"Too small - throw him back."

"That's fishing - you changed sports."

"Be a sport and find the campground, OK?"

"Right there. You go in and register while I hide my inconveniently male body from view. I really hate playing these games, you know."

"Me too. Lets hope you can convince the therapist you should be Kate full time."

"Hallelujah! Amen to that!"

"You aren't going to go all religious on me?

"The Hell I am! Get us registered so I can get out of these clothes!

---

For the last three months I have started each day by putting a bra around my body and become so accustomed to the act that it has become second nature, done unthinkingly on autopilot. So how is it that after spending the last three and a half hours without one I could find so much pleasure in strapping myself into a bra again? Time and again on the drive from the house to the campground I found myself feeling out of place, in the wrong body.

I know it had to be done to get across the border, but it almost hurt. Settling my forms into place I once again swore that the second I got some kind of official paper that let me continue working as Kate I would schedule augmentation surgery.

Since the day was warm and sunny I opted for a tank top and floral skirt with open toed sandals. I hoped it wouldn't mark me for a tourist, but it felt like the right costume for wandering around the falls. We didn't do much more than disconnect the trailer from the pickup and set the stabilizer jacks, not even bothering to set up the outside of the trailer. I was in too much of a hurry to see the fabled falls.

With the windows rolled down and the AC turned off, we cruised to the downtown area, then headed south, following the signs to the bus lot. OK, it's more like we crawled, there was a lot of traffic. The city planners had come up with a wonderful idea - tour busses that ran continuously to all the main attractions at the falls. One price, get on and off as much as you like and no trying to find a parking spot at $20 or so a pop. I think this is called encouraging public transportation.

There was no problem deciding where to go first - I wanted to gawk at the water! Stephanie had assured me that the best view was from the Canadian side, which is why all the identity switching and she was right. How can I describe it? There's an awful lot of water. It roars, it foams, it mists, it rains. The water fills your entire field of vision and rattles your eardrums. If you're in the right place you see rainbows. If you're in the wrong place you get soaked to the skin.

Having grown up nearby, Stephanie was used to this wonder. Nonetheless, we stood there with arms around each other staring at the spectacle. Magnificent!

But even the most impressive things in life eventually become commonplace, something my experience in becoming Kate illustrates nicely. At some point my eyes unlocked from the water and began to look at the other sights. There were hordes of people around us, all milling and pointing and laughing. There were stereotypical groups of Japanese taking pictures of everything in sight. There was a group of teenagers in matching t-shirts cavorting by the railings. Babies in strollers, backpacks and slings, toddlers toting teddy bears, adults toting overpriced junk from the souvenir shops, wheelchairs, skateboards and lord knows what else.

Nobody gave a second glance to the two women walking along holding hands and grinning. Once I could tear my eyes away from the falls themselves, I noticed a boatload of people in bright blue slickers heading toward the falls. The Maid of the Mist according to the signs.

"Stephanie, we have to ride on that boat!" I babbled.

"Tourist!"

"Yeah! Let me get a Hawaiian shirt and a camera at the gift shop while you get the tickets."

"You wear a Hawaiian shirt with that skirt and you'll need a bag over your head, not a camera."

"I don't care. I want to ride that boat!"

"We will, darling, but If you want to get close to the falls let's do the cave tour first. You can practically touch the falls."

"Cool!"

"Wet! You're going to get your pretty sandals soaked."

"Who cares? Let's go!"

Stephanie, knowing the landscape well, led me to a wonderfully ornate old building where we were willingly fleeced by purchasing the all-you-can fit-in-attractions-pass so we could ride boats and cable cars and busses and I don't know what else. The wait in line was mercifully short line, this being a weekday. We were issued bright yellow slickers made out of the thinnest plastic they could get away with, then went down 150 feet (the college kids stewarding the parties of tourists were full of information) to the tunnels.

Dank, dark, creepy tunnels; Edgar Allen Poe would have loved them. To quote the kid guiding our little group: 'At Journey Behind the Falls, you'll experience the awesome spectacle of one-fifth of the world's fresh water crashing down 13 stories to the basin below. Every second during summer daylight hours, over 2,800 cubic meters of water thunders over the rim at 65 kilometers per hour.'

'Your Journey Behind the Falls visit will take 30 to 45 minutes. In the spring and summer months, you'll receive a free souvenir biodegradable rain poncho as protection from the mist of the Falls. Elevators descend 150 feet through bedrock to tunnels that lead and to the Cataract Portal and the Great Falls Portal which is one third of the way behind the massive sheet of water, then on to the Upper and Lower Observation Decks at the foot of the Falls.'

OK, it's a stilted tourist spiel but it's accurate. We got soaked, our skirts hung like limp rags around our legs and any hair that escaped the alleged raincoat was limp as an overcooked noodle. I made Stephanie go back the next day so we could do it again!

It took us three days to see everything. My skirt was drenched over and over as I got near the falls, but I loved it. I had a butterfly land on my breast at the conservatory, walked endless rows of brilliant flowers and bushes at the Royal Botanical Society, saw the great hydropower plants and hit every stinking tourist trap that Stephanie would allow.

I never thought I'd want to cut a vacation short, but we did so I could take another try at seeing a shrink. I once more disguised myself as Steve to cross the border. If you ever get to the Falls, be sure to find John's Flaming Hearth on the US side — amazing food and hospitality, as well as a parking lot big enough so the real me could emerge from the trailer in short order.

---

"You look pensive this morning, Kate." Stephanie observed.

"Wouldn't you be. I want to see the psychiatrist and get things rolling, but after the last time… I'll to try again, but I do feel a bit like one of my students shopping around for a class from an easy professor, though."

"Call it comparison shopping. Wise consumers research a major purchase."

"You sound like your brother. Why didn't I think of asking some of the people I've met on line before I saw that jerk? When I mentioned his name my computer practically fried from the flames that came back!"

"I hope that Dr. Gallis will turn out to be more understanding."

"The folks on line think so. Funny how I trust their judgment even though I've never met any of them."

"Ah, the digital age of friendship. Floating in cyberspace with just you and your 937 closest friends - none of whom you have ever met in person!"

"Now that you mention it, I haven't met any other transgendered types in person. Odd being in a community when you've never met anyone except through a keyboard."

"Much easier to maintain the illusion that way, isn't it?"

"So it is! I'm just starting to realize how lucky I am to have a body that lets me cross the line between male and female so easily."

"Which makes me a very lucky woman. I love you, Kate."

"I love you too, you crazy woman. Without you I would never have found the real me."

"Just keep that thought in mind when you see Dr Gallis. Kate is the real you."

Much to my relief, Dr Gallis did see the real me. Even with time out for all the paperwork, our first meeting went very well. I'm not going to say much more than that because the conversations was much like that I had with Andy. If you are a sucker for details, go back and read it over and just substitute 'Jean' for 'Andy'. It seems my luck had changed, because I was able to make a regular weekly appointment with her for the next several weeks.

---

"Good afternoon, Kate."

"Good afternoon, Doctor Gallis." I replied.

"Since you came back for a second visit I take it you wish to continue working with me on your transition. Please call me Jean."

"Thank you, Jean. I think you may be the right person to guide me through the bureaucracy of a gender change."

"That's an odd way to put it. I hate to generalize, but most of my patients are far more concerned with understanding why they have a desire to change gender and need help convincing themselves they are doing the right thing. Fear and guilt are a standard part of the mix, but you seem to have bypassed the guilt phase entirely."

"I suppose I have. Should I work on trying to feel guilty so I do things right?"

The doctor laughed. "Perhaps your well developed sense of the absurd is what enabled you to make so unusual a transition." Becoming more serious she continued, "Could it be that since you only plan an outward transition to femininity while remaining genitally male you need not make a complete commitment?"

"Yeah, men do seem to have a problem with commitment, but I don't think that's a factor here. Let me tell you how this all happened."

I outlined how the trauma in Stephanie's life had left her disgusted with men and how an accident with a manure pile had started me down the road to crossdressing and finally wishing to assume a feminine role permanently. Oddly enough I found myself consciously stealing from Uncle Shimon as I related the funny parts of the story and Jean obligingly laughed in all the proper places. I described my conscious decision to learn to be as feminine as possible for Stephanie and then the gradual realization that Kate was the real me and how I no longer wanted to return to being Stephen.

"Remarkable, Kate." She said when I had finished. "I don't think I have ever dealt with anything like this before. Well, There's an old adage that when you can't grasp the entire situation you should work on the parts you can understand and leave the rest for later. Since I'm a shrink, let's talk about sex - that's what we shrinks do best."

I had to laugh. "You don't happen to do standup in your spare time. That sounds like the start of a bad joke."

"I don't think I know enough profanity to make it in standup. So how do you reconcile your wish to remain male for sex but present as female the rest of the time?"

"I'm not sure that, other than the actual penetration, my approach to sex is all that masculine. It didn't take me long to figure out that the porno film version of sex, where the guy pumps away for hours on end while the woman screams in pleasure was pure bullshit. In fact, I have never once seen a porn film where the guy does what I've found women like the best. To be honest, I haven't ever brought a woman to climax with my penis, I just don't have the stamina."

"I haven't heard many men be that honest about sex, Kate."

"It's a lot easier to lie about sex than it is to learn how to be good at it. I was lucky in that my first lover was experienced and taught me how to pleasure her before I came in. She was an expert at taking me to the edge, then showing me what took her to the edge. She liked it slow and taught me how to stretch things out. I wasn't much more than a horny kid but she taught me to think of my lover before myself. Funny thing is that attitude makes it much better for me, too."

"Perhaps you are on the right track. I take it you have had several lovers?"

"Four. There won't be any more, either. Stephanie is the last one I'll need."

"Please don't think I'm being prurient, but how would you describe sex with Stephanie?"

"Since I'm here to talk about gender and sex, I rather expected the question. We never really went through that first rush of urgent need, she was pretty fragile when we got to know each other. I usually play with her until she comes, then she plays with me and eventually we finish with vaginal intercourse. That sounds too clinical - but it works for us."

"Do you have sex while you're wearing women's clothes?"

"Not often, we both prefer no clothes at all when we make love. If my forms are glued on we won't take time to remove them or if we happen to be wearing gartered stockings they may stay on, but that's about it."

"Do either of you have any trouble reaching climax without the clothes?"

"None at all."

"Thank you, Kate. You've been remarkable open about something that is very private."

"Hiding anything from you would be a unproductive. You need the facts in order to be able to come to an informed conclusion. When we're done with this I hope you will agree that an official transition is in my best interest and if you think otherwise than I need to do some hard thinking myself."

"We'll have to end there, your time's up. Next time we'll explore your feminine feelings in more detail."

"Thank you, Jean. I'll set up an appointment with your receptionist."

---

Why is it that just as things get to be interesting the damned doorbell rings? I had just finished demonstrating that I retained enough male finesse to unhook Stephanie's bra with one hand when a cursed clatter arose.

"Is the door locked?"

"Damned if I know."

"Then put those fingers on my nipples and we'll just ignore it."

"Does my tongue count?"

"One. Two. Three. Four."

"ANYBODY HOME?"

"Damn, the door isn't locked! Do me up quick! HELLO MOTHER!"

Why is it easier to snap your own bra on then one on your attempted lover?"

"STEPHANIE, WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE?"

"Can you live with one hook?"

"If it means that mother won't find you laying on top of me and fondling my breasts then I can live with it."

"Life in the fast lane"

By the time Hilda had made it to the living room we were presentable, if you ignored the little bulge on Stephanie's back where her bra held on by one hook.

"Stephanie, how could you set a date with out telling me!"

"Well, I just got the calendar and put a big red circle on it at random. Nothing easier!"

"STEPHANIE!"

"Relax, Mom. We were going to tell you before it was too late."

"How can I relax? My daughter is getting married! It has to be perfect!"

"It will be, after all I'm marrying Kate, so what could go wrong?"

(I refuse to try to reproduce the sound Hilda made. It contained to no known phonemes found in any human language.)

"Mother, it will be a small wedding, just family and friends, in our back yard. We have a genuine Methodist minister to do the ceremony so it will be perfectly legal even if there are two brides. Bernie and Lucy have the food under control and we found our dresses in Niagara Falls last week."

"You found your dresses?"

"White and frilly with a nice train to chug on behind. It's a shame that Kate doesn't have her own cleavage yet, so we had to go with high necklines, but they're beautiful."

"Oh my god! How could you?"

"Mother, I've done this before, if you remember. All the fancy crap in the world couldn't keep the marriage together. This one will have a simple ceremony and last until we die."

"But the bridesmaids? The flowers?"

"Lucy is mine and Alex is Kate's" No fancy dresses, they can wear something they already have. The flowers will come from the gardens. What more could you want?

"Not another one!"

"No, Alex is springing for a tux, but he's a bridesmaid since we don't have a groom."

"Where did I fail? How could you be so…. so… sensible!

"By being a fool for most of my life. It made me appreciate how much simpler and more satisfying it is to do things the right way!"

"It's times like this I should be Jewish, not Catholic! Jewish mothers have earned the right to scream 'Oi Vey!' at the top of their lungs! You're marrying a man who wants to be a woman with only a month to plan a wedding - without consulting your poor, dear mother I might add - and you talk of simple?"

"Well, when you put it that way…."

"Stephanie, darling, I love you'll but you drive me crazy!"

"How could we tell the difference when I succeed?"

Again, the limits of language make it impossible to reproduce Hilda's reply.

"Mother! Small, simple and relaxed. Damn, I wish I could think of another 's' word so I can chant it whenever you get excited."

"Stressless?" I offered.

"You keep out of this!" they replied simultaneously.

"Well, at least you agree on one thing. I'm going to contemplate the tranquility of the garden."

Thus, I am unable to provide details of the negotiations as I could only hear the occasional exclamation from my seat in the garden. Hilda was looking frazzled by the end of the conversation, but Stephanie is a remarkably determined woman. The wedding would occur to her plans and no one else's.

Including mine, I assume.

---

I’m sure you’ve all done it — meeting someone interesting and promising to keep in touch, then putting off the phone call or letter and getting caught up in the daily barrage of things that just HAVE to be done. The days turn into weeks and into years and you never end up seeing them again.

That didn't happen with Alex and Kristen. We did keep in touch after meeting them in Allegany. We even had them over for dinner the week after we returned, when Kristen got the prints of her vacation pictures. A small miracle happened and she found the scrap of paper where we had written our phone number down and she called.

Having noticed from our time together that neither Alex or Kristen were enthusiastic cooks, Stephanie invited them to dinner at our place. It was a delightful evening, the first time we had entertained as a couple. (Not counting family, that is.) By unspoken, mutual consent we spent the evening retelling tales of our misspent youth, memorable students, quirky cars and camping disasters, completely ignoring the recent drama.

At the end of the evening we actually got out our calendars and made a date to spend some time in the Thousand Islands together and to visit two of the Frank Lloyd Wright houses within driving distance. Alex being a freelancer and Kristen an art teacher, they had the flexibility to join us on our trip.

Our friendship was growing. Kristen was the first one Stephanie told when we (she?) set the date for the wedding. By chance, Alex had called the evening of my disastrous meeting with that bastard of a shrink, fortunately calling after we were done cleaning up the cherry juice. Alex is the kind of guy you can talk to, so I vented while he politely encouraged me to get my feelings out. I felt much better after he had let me run on. Friends like that were priceless!

Friends? The guy with no friends had become the girl with at least two good friends. Amazing! Not only were we friends, but we were going with them to the Thousand Islands to meet another couple who were their best friends.

Sunday morning found us sitting at the Victor entrance to the Thruway, waiting for Alex and Kristen, that being a convenient place for us to meet. As our friendship grew we would find that they were never on time for anything, but we all have their flaws. In time their old VW camper came chugging up behind us and we were off.

I'm sure you have all known a fanatic or two in your time. They seem like perfectly normal people until you hit their passion, then you can't get away from it. These people go to extraordinary lengths to satisfy their obsessions, kind of like those of us males who are convinced we should live life as women even if we weren't born that way.

Alex and Kristen loved VW campers. They had just poured about five grand into a new engine for the thirty year old vehicle, but it still spewed unburned gas from the exhaust, overheated regularly and came down with the chilblains on a regular basis. I do believe they had spent about as much money keeping it running as we had spent to buy our perfectly serviceable trailer. Well, I was going to have to spend gobs of money on medical professionals — plastic surgeons and psychiatrists - to keep me running. At least insurance covered some of it and when I was done my body wouldn't rust out!

They took our kidding in good spirits, however, and off we trundled down the Thruway. Stephanie did get rather frustrated, though. The ancient camper did not have cruise control, so Steph was constantly fiddling with the buttons on the steering wheel, trying to stay a constant distance behind the VW. Finally, in exasperation she turned the cruise control off and drove the old fashioned way. After a few hours of stopping at every other rest station to pick up some coffee or to dispose of the previous cup we arrived at Wellesley Island State Park.

Stephanie had used the Internet to reserve a wooded site next to their friends on the St. Lawrence river. Kris and Alex fit the VW in by their friend's popup trailer while we pulled in and set up camp, pausing rather frequently to watch the boats go by. Lucy the golden retriever wasted no time, she was in the river before we had the trailer unhitched form the pickup.

"Shira! Come back here!" came a cry from the next campsite. A white ball of fluff came streaking by, heading for Lucy. The ball of fluff was barking furiously as she followed Lucy into the water and in short order the two old friends were cavorting in joy.

Moments later our neighbor appeared. He was a big man, six feet or so, with an enormous beer belly covered with the brightest tie-die shirt I had ever seen. I later found out he was a teetotaler, so it would be more accurate to call it too much food belly, but that doesn't have the same ring. With his long, dark hair and bushy grey beard he just screamed 'aging hippie'.

"Howdy, folks. Looks like you've already met Shira, the World's Dumbest Dog. I'm Ralph."

So we exchanged names and we were introduced to his wife Judy and father-in-law Al.

"Nice camper!" Ralph went on. "Judy and I are hoping to get something like it when we retire so we can tour the country. We intend to visit every folk festival we can find, then park in our kid's driveways and let them support us in our old age."

Well, Alex had warned us that his friends were folk fanatics. The four of them started talking about music, leaving us to talk with Al.

"So Al, Alex tells me you're a fisherman" I said to be polite.

"My wife and I used to come up here for vacations when Judy was little, but I haven't been up here in years. Judy and her crazy husband think it's fun to go camping and talked me into coming with them."

"What kind of boat do you have, Al? Stephanie's eyes were shining in anticipation. Was there something I should know about her that I hadn't learned?

"A 26 foot Star Cruiser. Bought it a few years ago when we came into a little money. It's not as much fun now that Sara's passed on, but I still enjoy going out on the water. Judy goes with me sometimes, but her husband is a wimp, turns green and pukes just when we get up to speed. You ladies like to go fishing?"

"Damn! I don't have any tackle." Groaned Stephanie.

"I have an extra rod. Judy isn't much for fishing, she just likes to ride along and keep me company."

"Can we really come out with you?"

"Sure, if you don't mind a crotchety old man for company."

"You're not that old, Al."

"I'll be 83 in a couple of weeks. That old enough for you?"

"Ummm, Steph…" I murmured. "You need to rethink this 'we' stuff."

"What?"

"I think I'll stay on shore and keep Ralph company. We seem to have a similar opinion of small boats."

"Kate, you've got to be kidding!"

"Things that move in funny directions do not agree with me. It would be unladylike to describe what they do, so just trust me."

"You poor thing. I guess I'll have to rely on Al to escort me."

"You don't mind dating an older man?"

"Not one with a great big Johnson. That would be just effin' rude"

Steph told me later that's an old joke among fishermen. Fortunately neither Al nor I got it at the time. If you still don't get it, Johnson and Evenrude are two major makers of outboard motors.

"When are we going? I need time to get a temporary fishing license."

"Bright and early tomorrow morning, that's when they're biting."

"Good. I saw something at the registration building about fishing licenses. We'll have to check."

"To quote Tonto when he and the Lone Ranger were surrounded by Indians, 'What your mean we, kemo sabe?' I intend to stay on dry land"

"Then you get the grill ready and have the salad made while we procure the main course."

"Pretty confidant, aren't you. Don't count your fish before they're hatched."

"That's chickens, darling. Fish are too small to eat when they're just hatched."

Before things could deteriorate any further, we were joined by our musical friends. Ralph laughed when he heard about Stephanie's eagerness to go fishing."

"Did Dad warn you that he aims that infernal craft at every bump and hole in the water he can find? The one time I went out with him I think I put dents in the hull where I was hanging on for dear life. He took us into Irondequoit bay and crossed every damn wake there was. Then, when he got to the end of the bay he just slammed the boat into a U-turn and left my stomach somewhere off to the port or starboard or whatever you call the right side of a boat."

"You looked very cute crawling on to the dock and kissing the land." put in Judy.

"And I'm never going off the land again on anything smaller than the Titanic."

"The Titanic sunk, sweetie."

"At least it was a faster death than seasickness in that little dingy! The whole idea of a vacation is to relax and I'm not going to do that in a boat. Kate, maybe we can go for a walk with Lucy and Shira while they fish."

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

"Maybe we'll tire her out enough she won't bark at everything she sees."

"Who wants to take a trip into town so I can get a fishing license?" broke in Stephanie. "Anybody else want to go shopping?"

It shouldn't come as a surprise that the men stayed at camp while we women went into town.

---

I know I've said this before, but morning comes too damn early. In fact, morning had not come but the fisherpersons were up and active when the sun was just a pink glow above the horizon. Since Ralph had invited us for breakfast at his trailer I couldn't even complain about having to cook. Having learned from experience that Kris and Alex were always late we paused only to beat on the door of the VW camper and encourage them to come out before walking across the trees to our neighbors.

Some people take their camp cooking seriously and Ralph was one of them. There was a pot of coffee burbling on the small stove hooked to the side of the popup camper. On the table next to it was a gas grill with an oversize fry pan on top where the bacon was sizzling. On the two burner gas stove was there were honest-to-god potato latkes frying in oil. Next to that was a camp oven (he wasn't using that quite yet) and even a small refrigerator.

The table was set with brightly colored china plates, the real thing, not paper, and everything was lit by several CFL lamps hooked to the EZ-up. How in blazes did they fit all that stuff in a tent trailer?

Ralph stood there, flipper in hand, with a big green apron emblazoned with the words 'Alleghaney State Park', 'Bear Belly' and the image of a bear. Considering the size of his own belly it was certainly appropriate.

"Good morning, ladies. The coffee's ready and there's orange juice in the fridge."

"You've been to Allegany, too?" Stephanie asked.

"Love the place! We try to spend at least a week there every year."

"We were just there a few weeks ago. That's where we met Kris and Alex."

"Not only beautiful, but with impeccable taste in campsites, too. Good thing I'm married or I would have to ask one of you for a date."

"Good thing we're about to get married so you'll be disappointed." I put my arm possessively around Stephanie.

"Congratulations. Since were having latkes I'll add a Mazel Tov as well."

"With bacon? Isn't that sacrilegious?"

"Who cares? I'm a Jew by marriage and an atheist by disposition. I love mixing ethnic cuisines to see what happens."

"Hopefully not a lightning bolt from j-w-h. That would burn the bacon."

"Well, you know how those ancient gods love their burnt offerings."

"I can't believe this setup! Do you do this all the time?"

"More or less. Depends on how long we're going to stay. It takes a lot of time to set up and break down. Since we have company I decided to go full out this morning."

"But real china?"

"Got them for fifty cents apiece late last fall when the shops in town were trying to get rid of their summer inventory. Cheaper than paper plates!"

About then Alex came over sniffing mightily. Holding his hands foreword in the classic zombie shuffle he began to intone "Bacon… Bacon… Bacon…"

"Grab a piece and I'll put on the eggs." offered Ralph.

How is it that we got to meet such interesting people this summer? Despite the ungodly hour the table talk was spirited and filled with puns and laughter. I had the feeling the Judy and Ralph were going to be good friends, especially since they were friends of Alex and Kristen. They were completely accepting of Stephanie and me as a couple. I wasn't sure about Al, he didn't say much but seemed to enjoy the company.

When breakfast was over the intrepid fishermen went off to fish and I found myself helping Ralph with the dishes. We talked about this and that, shared recipes and a couple of funny stories.

"I always have a bit of a twinge when I visit the Thousand Islands," he started. "When I was a kid my family camped in a popup, but that one had only one wheel on it so it was easy to back up. We were almost to our campsite in the Thousand Islands when my brother's hat blew out the window of the car, so my dad stopped and backed up to get it."

"Unfortunately he hit a pothole and the wheel snapped off the trailer and we were stuck there. We got towed and spent the night camping in a field next to a gas station while they waited for parts to fix it. We got to the park and for the next thirteen days straight it rained. Picture five kids and two adults in the mud for two weeks and you have one memorable vacation.."

"Your poor parents!"

"Yeah, I guess they were in line for sainthood by the end of that vacation. But that's not the worst of it. By the time we hit Rochester the wheel broke down again and we had to leave the trailer in a friend's backyard while we went home to Buffalo. My dad found a new wheel and we came back the next weekend and put it on, then headed home. We got about five miles when the new wheel died. We found out it wasn't made for high speed travel and the bearings burned out. That time we left the trailer in a schoolyard just off the new expressway."

"Ouch!"

"Well, I was about twelve, so it was a great adventure, but I don't think my dad looked at it that way."

"I never got to do anything like that, I was an only child."

"There were times I wished I was an only child. Siblings can be a pain!"

"Being alone can be a pain, too. I always wished I had a brother or sister to play with."

"That's the human condition - never satisfied with what you have."

"So it seems. What are we going to do with whatever fish they catch?" I asked.

"I was thinking Trout a la Nero Wolfe. Assuming it's a trout, that is. Otherwise Whatever a la Nero Wolfe."

"Really? I've always appreciated Rex Stout, but I've always wondered if his last name inspired Nero's girth."

"Well, as one who approaches Nero's seventh of a ton myself, I feel a duty to carry on his cuisine."

"Somehow I don't think you would find Nero Wolfe in a setting like this."

"Not exactly a brownstone in New York City, is it? Not even a rock in the middle of a pasture, for that matter. I suppose he did occasionally have to rough it, but he ended up in well appointed cabins, not tents."

"Other than that trip to the Black Mountain."

"That was an anomaly in the series, wasn't it? Yet his character stayed true despite the exotic setting."

"Funny how much the character can affect the story. Did you ever read the Tecumseh Fox novel Stout rewrote with Wolf and Archie? Identical story, but it worked much better with Wolf. I think it was the byplay between Wolf and Archie that made the plot come alive."

"I think I've found another fan!"

"I've even used several of Stout's books when I teach American Literature."

"That's right, you mentioned you were at Brockport last night, didn't you. My first wife, my daughter and Judy all got their degrees there. Every last one of them got involved in Social Work."

"My apologies, you must have enough understanding and concern in your life to drive you crazy."

"Already there, but the coincidences keep adding up, don't they?

"So they do. My life has become a string of coincidences this year. Brockport is a great school. I just hope I can keep teaching there."

"Oh?"

Damn! I had gotten so involved in the conversation I had let slip something I should have kept to myself.

"Ummm. Could I ask you to forget I said that?"

"Did you just say something?"

"Yeah, the weather's lovely this time of year."

"Ain't it, though - or don't you English Professor types approve of 'ain't'?"

"Colloquial speech, sir. My own teachers had hissy fits about using it, but it's become part of the language. Sort of like 'fart'. These days everyone uses it and nobody gets too upset. Even two year olds!"

"Especially two year olds. Potty training is the big thing these days. I have a grandson around that age and it's his favorite word. If my mother were alive she'd be in high dudgeon at the very thought. The world has changed a lot since I was a kid."

"I suppose it has, but not always for the better."

"Not really. The same stupid stuff goes on through the ages but people will always be doing the same stupid stuff. Society, I think, has advanced some since I was a young whippersnapper. I doubt you've ever worried much about nuclear annihilation or hidden under your school desk for protection from The Bomb. Most Americans don't have to worry about living in a Police State despite the best efforts of Bush and his wackos. For that matter I can tell a perfect stranger like you that Bush is a wacko and not worry about you being an informer."

"Most of society has enough to eat, decent medical care is available (but I am starting to wonder about that). If you have a skin color darker than mine you're no longer are officially segregated and you can vote. Massachusetts just got smart and approved same sex marriage and the world hasn't ended. Hell, most people can tell you what 'LGBT' means these days even if they still don't approve. Small steps, but overall a better world than the one I was born into."

"I never thought of it like that."

"Well, you look to be only a couple of years older than my kids, so you're going to get to see a different set of changes. I suppose you and Stephanie could be the beneficiaries of Massachusetts enlightenment someday soon."

Damn again! How did we get back on the subject?

"The wedding's set for three weeks from now. It gets kind of complicated but we'll be legal."

"And damn sure ought to be! I'm confident that sometime before I kick off I'll get to see sexual orientation and gender dysphoria treated as just one more aspect of being human and not the work of the devil. Enough philosophy! Let me get my walking stick and we can take the dogs for a walk."

If you disregarded the belly, he could have been Gandalph with his bushy beard and tall walking stick, although I doubt Gandalph's staff had a train whistle carved into the top of it

---

The day was warming up nicely as we walked the dogs. The trails were lovely and the dogs ran great, joyous circles around us as we hiked. I was grateful for the cooling effect of the woods, because my breast forms had started to become sticky and annoying as the day warmed. Once again I wished I had real breasts so I could wear a tank top to keep cool. The gauzy, ruffled blouse and skirt were very pretty, but the sun made them a bit uncomfortable.

There is a joy in walking through the woods in a skirt that I never would have guessed at before I found Kate. I've always loved hiking, but once again I felt my goddess touch me as I walked in the natural beauty of the woodland. It wasn't until we were well along the trial that it occurred to me that I was walking alone in the woods with a man I had met less than 24 hours ago. I guess there was still enough male in me that I had never even considered the vulnerability of a woman in this position before we set off.

Still, I wasn't worried. Ralph seemed to be a good man even if I didn't really know him. There were a couple of spots where he had gallantly offered me a handhold, but had immediately released his grip when I was on firm ground. Our conversation was simple and varied with no hint of an ulterior motive. Besides, he was almost old enough to be my father and it was blindingly obvious that he and Judy were deeply in love.

Not that such hadn't stopped some men from making asses out of themselves, but Ralph wasn't one of them. Suddenly the serenity was shattered by an electronic beeping. Ralph's cell phone still worked even in the woods, it appeared.

"Hello? … How's the fishing? … Great! … I can't cook the one that got away, you know. … We'll head back. I've thrown you over for a younger woman, you know. Kate and I are canoodling in the woods along with the dogs. … Canodles, knadles, knishes, you're Jewish you should know. … Knishes and fishes? Why not? … I love you, my little dumpling. Try not to let Dad hit the dock."

"We have a pike, two bass and a trout. I hope you're feeling hungry, Kate."

"I will be by the time we get back and I'll have you know I do not canoodle with strange men."

"Well, you won't find a stranger man than I am."

"You might be surprised. What was that other stuff you were talking about?"

"Oh… knadles are dumplings and knishes are a kind of Jewish puff pastry. Maybe I ought to make some tonight. I should have all the ingredients."

"Just like that? In a camp kitchen?"

"It's just flour and eggs and onion and potatoes. Boil some potatoes, make a pastry, then stuff the pastry with the potatoes. Time consuming because I can only bake four at a time, but fun."

"We have an oven in the camper if you want to use it."

"Shall we make dinner together, then?"

"As long as we're talking knadles and not canoodles we can cook and let the others wash the dishes."

"Now that's my kind of woman!"

If only he knew!

---

Lunch was delicious. Ralph was a great cook and I seemed to be almost as compatible in the kitchen with him as I was with Stephanie. We threw together a quick pasta salad while the fish grilled. If you haven't had Trout a la Nero Wolfe, you bake the fish whole with onion, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce and sliced ham wrapped in aluminum foil.

When we finished we did make the others do the dishes, too. Then the subject of swimming came up. When we were in Allegany I had been very frustrated by not being able to wear a swim suit, so I had searched the Internet for a one piece swimsuit that had a skirt and a neckline high enough to hide my forms. Believe me, it wasn't an easy task!

Women's swimsuits are made to display as much flesh as possible and that was simply not going to work for me until I had my augmentation surgery. I had finally found something that looked like it might work and hauled out the credit card to pay for it. Don't ask how much, it wasn't cheap. Despite the premium price it was available only in black. Did Henry Ford design swimsuits? The only problem was I was nervous about wearing it in public.

"Kate, you know you look perfectly fine in that suit." encouraged Stephanie.

"That's easy for you to say. It's not so easy to wear. Gaff, padded panties and glued on forms, although it's pretty neat to have breasts without having a bra on."

"Yeah, I think so."

"But you come factory equipped, I feel like Charlie Brown in his winter coat even before I put the suit on."

"We must suffer for beauty, it is a woman's lot in life."

"That sounds like a quote, but I don't want to know who said it."

"Then I won't tell you its from my mother. Put your gaff on before I get distracted and make it impossible to wear your suit."

"Fine by me, darling!"

"No time now. Come to bed early tonight and we'll see what happens."

So I poked and tucked and tied myself in and put on the suit."

"Very nice, your boobs look like the real thing, darling."

"But you get to have cleavage. I want cleavage, dammit!"

"All in good time. Be patient."

"I want to be a patient and have the surgery, not be patient."

"So go ahead and call the doctor. Set a date, already."

"Dr. Gallis has to give me my papers first."

"Papers are for training puppies. You said there are surgeons who will do augmentation surgery without the bureaucratic bullshit. You don't ever intend to go back to being Stephen, do you?"

"No, I don't think I could do it any more."

"Then do it!"

"But what if the college won't let me teach as Kate?"

"Then we live on my salary until you find a job."

"But could I find a job?"

"I don't know. How much are you willing to risk? Could Kate be happy as a tutor? You know Bernie and Lucy think enough of you to have you be part of the catering business if the college screws you. Is it worth learning to say 'Do you want fries with that?' to have breasts?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it scares me, Steph."

"Good, it should! You know and I know you've made up your mind, but we are going to be in for some difficult times in order for you to be who you want to be. Dean Carl seems to have a positive attitude, most of my family loves you and I love you. If you really want to have breasts then get them!"

"You make it seem so simple."

"Not at all, but until you make the decision you can't act on it."

"You're right. I want to make Kate permanent. When we get back I'll call that practice in New York and see if they'll do it."

"After doing a thorough check on them. Remember that first bastard of a psychiatrist. You don't want to meet his brother the surgeon!"

"Too right!"

There, that's settled. Now, let's go swimming."

I still felt like Charlie Brown, but I had to do this sometime, didn't I?"

---

The rest of our time in the Thousand Islands flew by. Once I got used to being outdoors in a swimsuit I enjoyed the experience despite the padding. I was glad the padding was silicone, foam rubber would have made me into a human sponge. 'Mommy, why is the lady squirting water out her bottom?' Wet breast forms are not a pleasant experience, however.

The six of us became fast friends for the duration. I spent quite a bit of time with Ralph as everyone but us enjoyed putting up and down the river and Al was very happy to have company. For a self described grumpy old man he was pretty sociable.

Was it because I was born a man that Ralph and I could forge a friendship that had nothing to do with our ostensible sexes? Neither Stephanie or his wife had any concerns about how much time we spent together. We shared a number of interests and enjoyed our talks together while the others were out boating.

He and Judy had just started producing a series of folk music concerts and I learned more about the music than you could believe. Another fanatic for a friend, we seemed to attract them. In order to do a concert they had to haul a lot of heavy sound out of their basement, load it into the van and take it to the hall. Once it was set up they waited to see if enough people showed up and bought tickets to pay the bills, then reversed the process at the end of the show. Why did they do it? They loved the music and all the effort was worth it.

I suppose the same could be said about my need to become Kate full time.

The morning of our last day there we were once again together waiting for the fishermen to return.

"You wouldn't be getting tired of fish for lunch, would you, Kate?"

"You don't suppose they could catch a roast beef out there, do you?"

"The Yorkshire pudding would get soggy if they did. It's been fun getting to know you and Stephanie, I'm glad Alex and Kris introduced us. I hope we won't loose touch."

"Steph and I talked it over last night and would like to invite you and Judy to our wedding. It's going to be small, just family and a few friends, but you've become friends this week."

"Why that's very flattering. When is the wedding - if I don't write it down I'll never remember."

"August 20th at our place in Brockport. We'll give you an invitation before you leave."

"Thank you so much. It will be a pleasure to see you two get married." He paused. "Uh, Kate?"

"Yes?"

"I've been trying to think of a way to ask you a question without offending you…."

"Then just ask it. I don't think you could offend me."

"Let's hope. Kate, are you in transition?"

I took a deep breath and screwed up my courage. "Yes. See, you didn't offend me, but I am curious as to how you figured it out."

"Let's just say I didn't have to hire Nero Wolfe to do the detecting. Your presentation is just about flawless and I'm jealous, dammit. It was the little things - your swimsuit that covered all of your breasts, a casual remark here and there once you begun to trust me; but when you said you and Stephanie were getting married legally there is only one way that can happen in New York. One of you had to have been born male.

"It does add up, doesn't it?"

"Well, if it had been Stephanie who was in transition I would have felt like a complete ass. Remember when we talked about LGBT and the future?"

"Of course."

"Well, I'm the 'T'. I drew the wrong body to go out in public, but what the heck? I write stories about how things ought to be and dress up in private. Have you ever visited Fictionmania?"

"Once in a while. Most of the stuff there is a little too X rated for my taste."

"But there is some very readable stuff there. I feel a little nervous pointing out my writing to an English Professor, but I'm known as Ricky there."

"You're the one that just wrote The Dress Code?"

"Guilty as charged, your honor. I started out writing porn when I was alone after the divorce and eventually found I could write about things besides sex. Who knows, I might use your story as inspiration and you'll see it up there some day."

"You've got to be kidding! I can't be all that interesting."

"You will be by the time I get done remaking you, not that I mean to lay a bad trip on you. Christ, there I go sounding like an old hippie."

"Hey - you look like an old hippie so why not sound like one?"

"Because I'm a nerd and a couple of years too young to have been a genuine hippie. By the time I was out of my parent's house the real hippies were on the wane. Drove my folks nuts with long hair and wire rim glasses, though."

"I guess you haven't changed that much, then."

"More belly, arthritis and a whole list of crap involved with getting old. It’s a pitiful thing to listen us aging hippies sitting around, trading symptoms and comparing specialists. The older I get the more I'm turning into my father!"

"And you'd rather turn into your mother?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a magic wand with you?"

"Sorry, I forgot to pack it."

"That's OK, she wouldn't have approved anyway."

"I doubt mine would have, either."

"Like Dylan said, the times they are a changin'. Sadly, sometimes you have to wait for the older generation to die off to make progress."

"Which lets the younger generation make different mistakes."

"A wise woman. If you guys have kids make them smart ones."

"Get thee behind me, Satan! We're too old to raise babies. Besides, Stephanie had her tubes tied long ago. We just raise students to be our surrogate children."

"At least you can give them back when they get annoying. I tried to give mine away for years but couldn't find any takers. Had to marry them off to get rid of them."

"Don’t be mean! I'm sure your children are good people."

"A necessary evil to gain grandchildren. Have I shown you the pictures yet?"

"The first night at the campfire."

"See, old age! I'm going senile."

"Not if you could outperform Sherlock Holmes in assembling the little clues to realize what I am. Not that too many people will have to resort to logic when I come back to school as Kate."

"Transitioning on the job? That takes chutzpah, Kate. I hate to be negative but my ex has a friend who did so and she just moved to Seattle because her employer harassed her so badly despite the written tolerance policy. She couldn't even go to the government for help because she worked for the government."

"I suppose I work for the government too, since it’s a state school. My dean seems positive but nothing is certain."

"Let me give you my ex's name and number. She deals mostly with disability issues but is hell on wheels when anybody tries to discriminate unfairly. That's a joke because she's in a power wheelchair these days. I know she still has contacts with the Brockport faculty."

"Wait a minute - you're that friendly with your ex that she would help someone for you?"

"I've had the great good fortune to marry two women who not only tolerate my crossdressing, but enjoy each other's company. Eventually my ex and I couldn't live together, but she is a good woman and a good friend. She's even spent a couple of nights in the camper with Judy and me when her tent had problems."

"Good lord!"

"Well, she is born again. Maybe that plays into it."

"If you guys can pull off such a miracle I guess transitioning on the job ought to be simple in comparison."

"Apples and Oranges, Kate. The college will probably be full of bologna for someone with melons and a salami, if you catch my drift. Tread carefully, my friend."

"I always tread carefully in high heels. Does Judy know?"

"I just figured it out for sure when you told me the wedding was going to be in Brockport."

"It's OK if you tell her, I don't want you to keep secrets from her I'll have to tell you the story of how Alex and Kris found out."

"They know, too?"

"We have time until the intrepid water warriors return, so sit down and let me tell you a story…"

Somehow leaving camp the next morning felt almost like leaving home, but Dr. Gallis, or rather Jean, would be waiting for my afternoon appointment the next day.

---

"Hello, Kate. So, anything new to tell me this week?"

"It's been a busy week, Jean. We've acquired another couple who are fast becoming friends, for one thing." I told her about Ralph & Judy, but you already know that story.

What do you think of the ease which Kate seems to make friends compared to how Steve did so?"

"I'm not sure I understand it, but I think it has to do with liking myself more so I have more attention to give to other people. The other part may be simply the more feminine attitude I have discovered. Falling in love is another big part of it."

"So you didn't like Steve?"

"No, that's too strong. More like indifference. Steve was just me, I had no basis for comparison. I actively like the person I have become as Kate."

"No regrets?"

"None. Not even seeing a shrink and talking about my sex life. So, we covered sex last time. Do we do violence this session?"

"Violence? Somehow I can't picture a woman like you being associated with violence."

"Sex and violence are as American as Apple Pie. You should see some of the literary battles I've been in - it would make your blood run cold."

"So, then you think the pen is mightier than the sword?"

"Absolutely. Skewers as effectively as a rapier but far less blood."

"Not a particularly feminine outlook, is it?"

"You've never been to a sale on Black Friday, I take it."

"Psychiatrists are supposed to be dowdy - we don't follow fashion. You couldn't get me within a hundred yards of one of those sales."

"Then I think we have agreement on at least one aspect of femininity."

"So tell me, as one born male what do you consider feminine?"

"We've only got an hour, Jean."

"Asking open questions helps to pad the bill. Why don't you take a stab at it."

"I thought we had gone beyond violence. Femininity? Openness, caring, empathy, grace."

"Interesting your first response should be about the emotional, and the word 'grace' has a distinct religious overtone. I've come to understand religion doesn't play a large role in your life."

"Not traditional religion, but there's something that happened to me a while back that has changed my feelings a bit." I told her of my experience in the woods of Allegany where I felt the goddess speak to me. I don't think there is a literal intelligence somewhere out there that spoke to me, but the overwhelming sense of peace and certainty in my feminine nature is as close to a religious experience as I have ever come. Since then it seems that circumstances keep affirming my femininity. I know my logical friends would say it's confirmation bias, or perhaps retrofitting incidents to fit the way I want things to come out, but I do sense a presence of some sort that leads me to living as a woman.

"Most interesting. I am always unsure when religion comes into these conversations. I'm scientifically trained , but I have my own beliefs as well. It can be hard to keep my beliefs from coloring my responses to another's religious experience."

"I think calling it a religious experience may be too strong, but I have no other frame of reference. I appreciate your honesty about your beliefs, Whatever happened, I knew from that point on that the path was irreversible."

"Indeed. What about the physical part of femininity?"

"I like the freedom, the sensuality of the clothes, the balance of a woman's body. I find myself drawn to breasts and wishing I had them. I can get a taste of what they feel like when I have my forms glued on, but I long to have real breasts. I hope you don't take this wrong, but I have decided to schedule augmentation surgery as soon as I can find a slot. No matter what happens I am going to be Kate for the rest of my life and I want to be able to wear clothes without worrying about showing my forms."

"And what happens if, after we have explored your feelings and options more completely, I can't support your transition?"

"I would be very disappointed but I would have the surgery anyway. Talking to you has helped to clarify my own thoughts in ways I hadn't anticipated, and I know that you could very well find my decision to live as a woman abrupt, but I have to be true to myself. I am in the fortunate position of being able to take an unusual path to femininity and intend to do so."

"Indeed!"

"You're starting to sound like Andy."

"Andy?"

One of the school counselors who I talked to when I realized Kate was really who I was."

"Well, we are taught to encourage the patient to keep talking and 'indeed' is a good word for that."

"Indeed!"

"Indubitably. There are other words to use, you know. I think we should come back to this aspect later. What I was trying to get at was presenting as a female while remaining a functional male. That's a very unusual path for a transsexual to take. I realize that many do not have genital surgery because of the cost, but that doesn't apply here. You have declined to take hormones in part to retain your ability to function as a male in the sex act. I think we need to explore this aspect more fully."

"The way I see it is that I use my penis for a few minutes maybe a couple of times a week and Stephanie likes it when I do. The rest of the time it's irrelevant. I don't even bother with a gaff most of the time since a woman my age can't do justice to mini skirts and tight dresses. You may have noticed I'm partial to full skirts and loose fashions."

"So how do you cope with the 'gallant reflex'?"

"Never had one. I never could understand the whole concept of getting hard by looking at someone on the street. It doesn't work that way for me. Reading a racy passage in a book or having Stephanie tease me works every time, but I don't get erections unless I'm in a situation where one is called for."

"Interesting. Did you experience erections when you started to wear women's clothes?"

"A couple of times. They didn't last long as I was concentrating on other things so it wasn't anything major. From my research on the net I wasn't surprised when they happened."

"You actually researched crossdressing before you started?"

"Not exactly before, but once I realized both Stephanie and I were enjoying it. I suppose it's the academic in me after a lifetime of haunting libraries. I wanted to do the best job I could so I spent hours on line searching for advice and information from people who crossdressed. Once I set my filters to remove the porn there was quite a large on line community to draw from."

"You don't like the tranny porn?"

"Well, some of it was interesting and I couldn't help but look, but it wasn't helping me create a feminine image or understand what I wanted to accomplish. In fact, it was a bit disheartening to see some of the beautiful women who still had penises. I suppose normal women might feel less than perfect when looking at a female porn star as well."

"You seem to be highly focused on your goals. That is traditionally a masculine trait."

"I suppose, but most of the traditionally masculine traits seem to be human traits that are denied to women by various cultures. My female colleagues seldom conform to those traditions yet are clearly feminine. I don't intend to let such traditions define me any more than they do."

"So you're a feminist."

"Damn right! Always have been and proud of it!"

"Whoa, girl. Get off your soapbox and back on the couch."

"Sorry, I get carried away sometimes."

"Don't we all? Lets look at this from another angle. Tell me what you don't consider feminine."

"Extremes - emaciated models, massive enhanced breasts, silly fashions, obsessive makeup, towering heels, bling by the pound. I could never understand the 'if some is good more is better' philosophy. Aristotle had it right - moderation in all things. You think if he had it figured out all those thousands of years ago we could get it right after all this time!"

"Did Steve have the same philosophy when he saw a fashion model?"

"Pretty much. I've always been more interested in the inner person rather than the exterior presentation. Not that I don't appreciate a good looking woman, far from it, but superficiality is not on my agenda."

"There are those that would consider your decision to live as a woman superficial since you can never fully become female. How will you cope with that?"

"How are they going to tell? I don't intend to go around informing people about my genitalia."

"That's not quite what I was getting at. It's generally well known that modern surgical procedures can create the outward appearance of a woman, but a transsexual will never actually be a woman in the sense they can not become mothers."

"Like I said, I don't go by outward appearances. I've come to think I'm a woman on the inside, in my soul. I thought I was going to spend the summer as Kate and then revert to being Steve when the fall semester started, but that's not going to be possible. I'm certain that I am no longer able to be Steve, that Kate is who I really am. Even knowing the trouble that will cause at the school, the notoriety that will come my way, I'm willing to live with it so I can be the person I've become. There's no superficiality involved, it's my core personality we're talking about. No matter what happens I will not go back to being Steve."

"As for motherhood, at my age even biological females would be about out of time for childbearing. I wouldn't want to bring a child into this world at this stage of my life; too much chance of not being there to see them through to adulthood. That's just plain selfish."

"And changing your body to conform to your sudden wish to be something you aren't isn't selfish?"

"My transition doesn't affect innocent parties. I have no family, Stephanie is strongly supportive, as is most of her family. I've come to realize that, for good or evil, I have no close friends that a transition will affect. We don't plan to have children, neither of us want to take that chance.
It may be selfish but it isn't hurting anyone close to me."

"What about the reaction of men to you as a woman? Especially after you have breasts to expose you will have to cope with male sexual attention. How will you handle such situations?"

I have to admit I get a kick out of watching some men lust after my body as long as they are circumspect about it. There's a kind of power there that I never knew as Steve."

"Sex as power?"

"No, not really. I can remember Steve occasionally lusting after a woman and simply enjoying the sight of her body, for that matter I can still appreciate a good looking woman if I'm to be honest with myself. It tickles me that I can inspire that same feeling even if I have no interest in following up. My interest is certainly focused on females, and one female in particular."

"Do you still feel that lust yourself, even when you are fully Kate?"

"On occasion. The funny thing is, when that happens I feel all the more feminine. There is no 'urge to conquer' or masculine imperative to dominate. I enjoy the sight and wish I could have such beauty naturally."

"Will artificial enhancement of your body be enough for you? Could you be satisfied with only having breasts?

"I'm absolutely sure. I've always found a woman's breasts to be fascinating. Maybe the essence of femininity for me. When I was a teenager I wondered what it would be like to have breasts, but I suppose every horny adolescent boy does that. It was never more than one passing thought among many while daydreaming. Now that I've lived as a woman I find it's becoming an obsession."

"How strong? If you were to have augmentation surgery would the next obsession be, say, the desire to nurse a baby?

"Nursing? I think it would be lovely but I realize that medical science isn't there yet and probably won't get there in my lifetime. If I could have been offered a choice of sex when I was born I would unhesitatingly choose female. Too bad John Varley's world in "Steel Beach" isn't real - it would be lovely to change sex at will."

"An interesting concept. Would you want to change back after becoming a woman?"

"I doubt it, but his world they had lifetimes of hundreds of years so they had time to become blasé and change back and forth for novelty. I know I won't become bored with being feminine in my lifetime."

"Feminine but not fully female? Or as close as surgery can come?

"Odd as it must seem, I think that's the right course for me."

"I see. I'm afraid that the clock has caught up with us once again. Next time we need to talk about the legal practical issues of your transition. Your real life test appears to be quite successful thus far, but you have yet to come up against officialdom. What do you intend to do about your employment? There are innumerable places where checking 'M' or 'F' on a form will have consequences. I'll see you next week and we can explore that aspect."

It wasn't until I was pulling out of the parking lot when it hit me. She said 'the legal and practical issues of your transition' like she was assuming it would happen.

---

"Do we have to do this, Kate?'

"We're sitting in a car in the guy's driveway and now you ask?"

"I know Kristen swears he'll work with us, but I'm a little scared."

"Too many memories?"

"In a way. I know all ministers aren't hypocrites, but I've met too many."

The think of your friends the Sisters that rescued you. Did they judge you or tell you that you were going to Hell?"

"No. You're right, I'm just being silly."

"No, you're not. You are applying past experience to future problems. The question is if the experience is relevant to the current problem."

"You've gone into lecture mode, darling. Either that or you're becoming a social worker."

"Heaven forefend! Or whatever home of whichever deity you choose. I'm sure Verne is a perfectly nice man or our friends wouldn't go to his church. If he did the ceremony for Ralph and Judy he must be pretty open. How many Christian ministers will do a ceremony for an atheist and a Jew?"

"None that I've ever known, but it still brings up old memories."

"The keep the new memories we're making firmly in your mind. We have complete control over who performs the ceremony, so if there is any doubt in either of us we find someone else."

"We might not have that many choices. I know mother will be much happier if we have a genuine minister and not some secular judge officiate.

"So we take the chance of being rejected to make your mother happy. Sounds like a good risk to me."

"I love you, Kate. Thanks."

"Nothing I wouldn't do for any of the women I've fallen madly in love with."

"Think Verne will notice a fresh bruise on your padded ass? Just keep it up and you'll find out!"

"I shall behave, my love. My one and only true love. My pure and radiant, exclusi…. Ouch! That wasn't my ass!"

"Easier to reach. Let's go inside before he thinks we're making out in the car."

"Not a bad idea. Want to stop on the way home?"

---

"Come in, come in!" greeted Verne.

"Thank you. I'm Stephanie and this is Kate."

"Welcome. Let's go into my office where we can be comfortable."

His office was simple, desk, comfortable chairs and plenty of books. In one corner was a guitar case."

"It seems wherever we go these days we end up meeting folk musicians. We've enjoyed hearing Alex play around the campfire, and Ralph and Judy told us you even played at their wedding."

"We all have our burdens. Mine is the need to make a joyful noise unto the Lord at times."

"We encourage Kate to just hum along, that way her noise is much more joyful for others. I don't know what the Lord would think."

"I've never been able to read His mind, either."

"That's odd for someone who makes his living telling people what the Lord thinks."

"I don't look at it that way, Stephanie. I read the Bible and offer my opinions and interpretations, but I never claim to know what He's thinking. I've found in a lifetime of being a preacher that reading people is as important as reading the Bible."

"You've just made a joke without realizing it, Verne. Since Alex told me he gave you our background, you know that I'm transgendered. When someone realizes you are a man who looks like a woman we call it 'being read'."

"Interesting. The English language is just loaded with traps for the unwary. I hope I haven't offended you!"

"Not at all. You wouldn't have known the usage and you obviously were using the word in a different context."

"You've gone into lecture mode again, Kate." chided Stephanie.

"Hazard of the profession. I teach English at Brockport.

"A fine school. I've known several people who went there."

"I like it, but I suppose we have to get around to why we came to see you."

"In time, I like to get to know people before discussing business, if you will. In your case I have to admit I've never known anyone who was transgendered, if I'm using the term correctly."

"You are. At the risk of lecturing, it's an umbrella term for anyone whose birth gender doesn't agree with their perceived gender. To add to the confusion, we don't the word 'gender' in the same way as the feminists use it."

I'm sure you don't want to hear the Gender 101 lecture, nor recapitulate our story again, so just assume we told Verne who we were and where we were going.

"Fascinating. The only reference I had before meeting you was what I picked up on the occasional talk show or supermarket tabloid."

"Do ministers spend their time watching talk shows during the week?" Stephanie asked.

"On occasion. We don't only work on Sunday mornings, you know. Even if you're not interested, pop culture has a way of worming its way into your brain."

"Yes, we're all on a first name basis with the stars at the checkouts, aren't we?"

"You may be, but I haven't a clue unless one of my parishioners fills me in."

"I have to rely on my students. Stephanie is lucky, second graders aren't into pop culture."

"You're living in a dream world, Kate. They may be young but all too many of them watch the TV when they should be doing homework."

"In any case, my pop culture idea of a transgendered woman seems to have no connection with the reality, Kate. Even if I've been a bit uncomfortable with the subject, I have enjoyed the conversation. I've had to remind myself that you were a man more than once, until I realized it was an exercise in futility. What's the old adage? If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck?"

"Then the ugly duckling must be a swan."

"I haven't paused to consider the genitalia belonging to anybody else, so why should it be an issue with you? Being human I may fail to live up to that standard, but I don't intend to start asking such foolish questions now."

"So now you know a little about us, are you willing to marry us?"

"Let me take a step back before I answer. You deserve to know a little about me since you've been so open about your life. When Alex called I was in a quandary. My first reaction was not to get involved, but I couldn't just ignore his obvious affection for the two of you. I count Judy and Ralph as friends as well, so when several friends urge me to do something I have to take it seriously."

"I've had occasion to think through my position on same sex marriage, that's part of the age we live in. Frankly, I am not satisfied with the overly simple and mistranslated Biblical view of homosexuality that the talking heads like to spout. I flatter myself that I am enough of a scholar to realize that the Bible has little concrete to say on the subject when you go back and examine what we know of the original text. Because of that, I can't condemn or endorse homosexuality definitively on Biblical grounds. I have come to accept it as one of the many variations we humans possess, neither evil or good in itself.

"However, it is clear that the Bible reserves the sacrament of marriage exclusively to a man and a woman. In my opinion, homosexuality is irrelevant. I wouldn't feel comfortable blessing a same sex union because of how I read the Bible. On the other hand, I cannot conceive of God condemning a union between two souls that are truly in love. I have come to realize I can rejoice in such love even if I cannot personally provide the sacrament of marriage."

"I thought I had come to a working compromise on the subject before I met you. Now you have forced me to find a more nuanced approach. Being ignorant on the subject, I gave a call to a seminary classmate whose flock is in a major city. He has quite a few transgendered people in his care and was able to give me some idea of the issues and how he has dealt with the…" he paused. "I don't want to say problem, but I think you know what I mean."

"So now that I've gotten to know you I can put a human face on what was only abstract. Being human I have to admit to a great curiosity as to why you would wish to live as a woman, Kate, but that's an issue for another day. As much as any outsider can tell from a bit of conversation, it's clear you are in love with each other. That neither of you subscribe to the tenets of my sect is not an issue, marriage is about commitment to each other and that I sense in you. It is a sacrament before God even if you do not believe in that God. Perhaps you will find that Him sometime in the future, but the sacrament is still valid, as would be your marriage."

"The Bible doesn't have a blessed word to say about how you are dressed for the ceremony, so I have no problem officiating as long as the civil authorities issue a valid license. In other words, I hope I can play a part in your having a wonderful life together."

"Thank you , Verne. And we would like to ask you to do us the honor of playing a song at our wedding."

"I'd be honored, ladies. Did you have anything in mind?

"We'll take it on faith that you can find something appropriate."

Kate, Part 6 Where the Past Meets the Present By Ricky

Indulge me for a moment and go get your local copy of the White Pages from wherever you store it. I mean the printed one, not the online version - that won't work. Turn to the back cover and I bet you'll find a picture of two white males in black suits who are offering to make you rich by suing someone. Usually the word 'INJURED' figures prominently in the text, as well as a figure like $100,000,000. In Rochester the firm is Cellino and Barnes, but for a while it was known as The Barnes Group because Cellino was disbarred.

Why do I talk about sleazy lawyers? Because that's the feeling I had when I approached the plastic surgeon in New York City about breast augmentation surgery without official psychiatric permission. Why New York City, after all Rochester had plenty of plastic surgeons in practice? Simple, there is an active drag queen community in New York City and there are a number of plastic surgeons willing to service men who want breasts with minimal curiosity as to why.

OK, maybe it was just me, after all I was very nervous despite my resolve to go ahead with surgery. I had gotten three doctor's names from a drag queen forum, ones they said could be trusted. I was surprised at how quickly one could schedule a preliminary appointment. I had no intention of being a drag queen, but you go were the service is offered.

The surprises didn't end there. After checking hotel prices and allowing a couple of hours to recover from shock, we found there actually is an RV park within sight of the Statue of Liberty with a subway stop only five blocks away. I'm not smoking something illegal, it's true. Its called Liberty Harbor RV Park and Marina - all the amenities and even wireless Internet access. We weren't looking for the natural beauty of Allegany or the Thousand Islands, just a place to stay that cost less than the surgery itself!

So we added an unexpected trip to New York City to our summer of exploration. We were even able to reserve a spot from Sunday to Tuesday without too much trouble. I will offer you one hint, however. If you're driving a pickup with a 26 foot trailer, DO NOT time your arrival in New York City anywhere near to rush hour. I think two o'clock in the morning may be the best time, but I haven't tried it myself.

To my vast relief, the offices looked like any other professional office complex anywhere in the world. With the sleazy lawyer comparison in the back of my head I had been half expecting a hovel in the slums with burnt out hulks surrounding it. I quieted my imagination and waited with Stephanie for the doctor.

Well, not the doctor, but the doctor's assistant. Having done my research on the types of breast augmentation surgery beforehand I could almost have given the assistant's lecture on the various procedures. I heard nothing to change my decision to go for textured silicon forms. Having gotten the basics, we finally talked to the doctor himself.

No his name wasn't Frankenstein and he didn't look like a refugee from a Mel Brooks film. He was friendly and professional and discussed the options for incisions and anesthesia frankly. I think he was surprised when he finally examined me that I had no breasts of my own at all, despite the little letter 'M' on the paperwork I had filled out. Even doctors familiar with drag queens seem to think I am female. Isn't that a kick?

The delicate subject of payment came up, but since I was paying in cash it didn't occupy much time. I wrote a check, fortunately with far fewer zeros than the sleazy lawyer's ad, then set the date for October 14. That gave me the midterm break to recuperate before returning to class. Assuming I was still teaching, that is.

I don't want this to turn into a travelogue, but I will mention we rode the ferry and saw Miss Liberty from the harbor at night, visited her and Ellis Island and spent far too little time at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. The subway was confusing but clean and well cared for. It got us where we wanted to go and I didn't have to worry about parking a pickup in the big city. Taking my own advice, we left in the evening, after rush hour, and got home late but unfrazzled.

---

"Come in, Kate."

"Hi, Jean"

"And what new has happened this week?"

"You probably won't like it, but I just got back from New York City where I scheduled my augmentation surgery."

"Kate, Kate, Kate! I must say I have never had a patient remotely like you."

"Isn't it a truism that we are all unique?"

"Wait a minute! I'm supposed to be asking the questions. The next thing I know you'll be hanging out your own shingle and making me obsolete."

"If the college won't take me back I may have to find a new source of income."

"Which does point up one of the difficulties you will face. I have to tell you that I really don't know how to treat your case. You just don't fit the normal patterns."

"Like I said, unique."

"How true. With most gender conflicted clients the first issue to deal with is the years of guilt at not being a stereotypical man, but I can't say you show any signs of guilt at all. Hush, and let me finish before you answer. We recognize four main diagnostic criteria for gender dysphoria.
"First, a persistent desire to present as a woman. You meet the criteria here, but my concern is with the relatively short time span."

"Second is a persistent discomfort with being male. Again the time concerns me, but you have not really spoken about a dislike of being male. In fact your desire to keep a functional penis indicates against that.

"Third is having an intersex condition. You get a pass on this one unless you've been hiding something from me."

"Lastly, and I shall quote, 'The disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.' You have made it clear that returning to your male personality would qualify, but you seemed reasonable happy as Steve until earlier this year."

"Now psychiatry is not like ordering from a menu, one from column A and one from column B and you have a diagnosis. You've been full time for about three months and part time for longer than that. I have no doubt that you've passed your Real Life Test despite it not being a full year. In fact, since the purpose of the Real Life Test for most transgendered people is genital reassignment surgery, the results of your RLT is pretty much moot."

"What I'm getting at is we are going to have to work out an individual set of guidelines for you and you alone."

"To risk being thought facetious, I guess I am unique.'

"Now I'll agree!"

"Then it's official?"

"That's what we have to discuss next. How to deal with the officials that control our lives. They always want paperwork and if you don't have it you can have a world of troubles. Your birth certificate says 'male' and that's hard to change."

"Actually, it doesn't. I was born in Illinois and they don't record the sex of an infant. I've been doing some research."

"There you go again. I don't think I've ever had a client so thoroughly prepared and informed."

"It's all those years of writing papers. If there aren't enough citations nobody takes it seriously. I learned how to do research and document it before I could crawl, I think. I'm very glad I wasn't born in New York; in order to change a birth certificate your GRS surgeon has to go so far as to tell the State what procedure he used on you. All Illinois wants is a copy of the court decree changing my name and they will amend the birth certificate with the new name. A few bucks to the lawyers and I'm legal. Then I take my court order to the county clerk and get a new driver's license. But we do most of that after we have the marriage license."

"You did it again! I was about to tell you to find a lawyer so the legal work is done right and you beat me to it!"

"I just hope Stephanie has a relative who's a lawyer. She seems to have one in just about every profession."

"You aren't worried about revealing your transgender status to her family?"

"We didn't try to hide it, but we haven't shouted it from the mountaintops, either"

"You do realize you can't change gender on your Social Security or passport without reassignment surgery.?

"I do. The name change is easy enough once I have a court ordered name change, but I'll have to live with my birth gender on those documents. I don't have a passport, but I'm going to need one pretty soon to go over to Canada. With any luck I can fill in the forms and mail them in without any big fuss. "

"There are always credit cards, bank accounts, and the dreaded IRS. You're going to be a busy girl for quite some time. I suspect your choice to blend genders will cause headaches for some time, but you have a very creative way of coping with problems."

"You say that like you're convinced I can make this work."

"Despite some reservations, I think you can. I'm prepared to give you a letter stating you are under treatment for gender dysphoria and identify primarily as a woman, because that much is clear to me at this point. I'll even throw in some official gobbledegook to confuse the unwary bureaucrat. Since you are not seeking reassignment surgery New York will be a pain to deal with, they always want all the details before they do anything official. The letter might help bolster your case, but that's about all I can do."

"Thank you, Jean. I appreciate your frankness and don't want you to do anything you are uncomfortable with."

"You can be sure I wouldn't! I think we should see each other once a month or so as you work your way through the public change. Quite frankly, you seem to have dealt with the usual transgender issues with your partner's support and I don't think you need that sort of help. I see my role from here on out as that of advisor for some technical issues and protocols, but you're too sane to need my usual sort of services. And don't you dare tell anyone I said that! She laughed. "Naturally I'm available if something goes wrong and you need help."

"Do I get a certificate or a gold star? 99 and 44/100 percent sane?"

"I don't give written guarantees."

"By the way, if you aren't worried about mixing the personal and the professional, Stephanie and I would like you to come to our wedding."

---

"Stephanie?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be terribly upset if we didn't make the pilgrimage to the Frank Lloyd Wright houses? After New York and the rest of our traveling I really want to just stay still and recuperate."

"There's plenty of time to see them sometime else. I'm not wedded to the idea."

"Especially when you plan to get wedded to me."

"Speaking of weddings, Mother hasn't called in a few days. I wonder if she's sick? She couldn't possibly be resigned to our minimalist wedding plans."

"There! We've been so busy I hadn't even noticed. Should we call her?"

"I thought you wanted to have some time to relax?"

"Oh, right. Shall we rip out the phone by the cord?"

"That doesn't work with cell phones, darling."

"That's why they have a silence option."

"What more needs to be done? We sent out the invitations, Bernie has the catering in hand, our bridesmaids are lined up, the garden of full of rose petals for strewing and we have our dresses."

Yes, I know I haven't told you that story, but it's been done so many times I can't bring myself to gush over the details of the whole thing. Besides, I found my dress at a Goodwill store - that isn't romantic enough to waste a few paragraphs about shopping. The dress is lovely and I hope whoever wore it the first time is still happily married and short of closet space.

"We still have to talk about the rehearsal dinner."

"I've had enough practice eating I don't need to rehearse. Just put the plate in front of me and I'll wing it."

I was saved from bodily injury when the phone rang and Stephanie picked it up.

"Hello…" she answered. "This is Stephanie Petrillo…"

If you've ever read an American Romance Novel, and as an English Professor I had slogged through a few of them for professional reasons, you will be familiar with the term '… and the heroine swooned'. An odd word not used much in the modern spoken language, but one found often in the Romance Novel.

I had never seen anyone swoon, faint or otherwise loose consciousness but when Stephanie turned white and dropped the phone I had a very personal display of swooning. Fortunately, she was sitting down, so I didn't have to witness a concussion or broken bone, but I was up and over to her with no memory of the intervening distance.

"Stephanie? Steph?"

I said a lot of other things, mostly nonsense, while I lifted her hand and tried to check her pulse. It looks easy when you see someone do it on TV, but I couldn't feel a damn thing. Before I could do anything else ineffectual she moaned and opened her eyes.

Knowing she was back, I was finally conscious of a tinny voice coming from the receiver.

"Hello? Hello. I say, are you still there?"

A small part of my mind registered a distinct British accent with an odd overlay of something. Middle Eastern? Hebrew? Irrelevant. Then Stephanie distinctly said "Tariq!"

I can spell it correctly now, but at the time it was just a meaningless syllable. I had no idea of what she was saying.

"My son! He says he's my son Tariq!"

That's when the light dawned. Confused, I picked up the phone.

"Hello, who is this?"

"I'm afraid this may come as a bit of a shock, but this is her son Tariq al-Hallaj speaking."

"Just a moment, please," I finally managed to get out. "She's had quite a shock after all these years."

"I must apologize for causing her distress, but I could not think of any other way to say it. I have come to Boston to attend the university here and hoped I could meet the mother my father would not speak about.

"This has certainly come as a surprise, but I don't suppose there is an easy way to tell someone she is the mother you have never met. If you could give her another moment to recover I'm sure she's going to want to speak to you. My name is Kate Tucker, by the way."

No way I was going to try to explain our relationship just then!

"You say you've come to America for college?"

"Yes. My father feels that an American style education is necessary for anyone to be successful in the modern world."

While I was stalling for time I went over to the other hands free phone and brought it to Stephanie. There was no way I would miss hearing about her long lost son!

"I think your mother is recovered enough to talk. Stephanie?"

I handed her the second phone.

"Tariq? Is that really you?"

"If you are the woman who married Faruq al-Hallaj in 1985 then I am your son."

"Oh my god! It is you!"

"Mother, I hardly know what to say. My father would not approve of me speaking with you, but I simply could not come to this country and not try to find you. I have a great love and respect for my father, but he has always refused to speak of you or why you divorced. He is a proud man and I do not lightly go against his will, but I have always wanted to know my mother. It has been hard to grow up with only nannies and governesses."

"He never remarried?"

"No, he did not. Again, he will not speak of why this is so, but I could not live with him for my entire life to realize the divorce disturbed him greatly."

"Tariq, I don't know what to say. I will never speak badly of your father to you or your sister, if I should meet her. I can't tell you how much I have missed you and Yasmin. I tried for years to find you but the authorities wouldn't do a thing. I never thought I would see you again!"

"I hope I can get to see you, mother. That is one reason I came to Boston early, so I would have time to become a detective and find you. I fear I am not much of a detective, I simply called information with your name and they connected me to you."

"Unbelievable! Please, tell me about yourself. Where have you been, what have you done?"

How do you condense an entire life into a phone call? How much to you tell to the stranger that is your mother? His story was a curious blend of the commonplace and the exotic. Raised in a moneyed household in Iran, he still grew up much as any young man would. At ten years old they moved to London where his father was involved in the family business.

Thus Tariq was a hybrid of east and west. His accent was strongly Brittish but with an overlay of what I now knew to be Farsi. He spoke of friends, schooling, his sister, commonplace things yet interesting and personal to a mother who had never known her child much past the stage of wearing diapers.

The conversation was halting. From what little I knew of Islamic culture, I remembered that men and women were often segregated. With the Wars going on there had been a feeble attempt to tell Americans about Islam and the cultures it spanned, but I'm afraid I hadn't paid much attention. Sensational things like stoning unmarried women who talked to a man came to mind unbidden, but surely that wasn't a commonplace thing? People can do spectacularly ugly things in a mob, but I certainly didn't want to judge an entire religion by the spectacular events the news-as-entertainment people on television presented. I just didn't know.

As I mused I noticed Tariq was asking Stephanie to tell him about her life. That ought to be a trick! We had been incredibly lucky in meeting people who could understand and love Kate despite the talk show culture we lived in. How were we going to tell this 19 year old (I did some quick math in my head) boy raised in another country that his long lost mother was going to marry a man who had become a woman? What would his religion have to say about my being transgendered? How was the fanciful goddess of my dreams going to handle this?

By letting me figure it out for myself. That's what goddesses do, don't they? Take credit if it works and let you whistle in the dark if it goes sideways. My, aren't we cynical all of a sudden? No matter how you cut it, two women married to each other are going to invite curiosity. We knew damned well we would have to spend far too much of our lives explaining, then chose get married anyway. We just never figured we would have to explain transgenderism, alternate lifestyles, culture clashes and love all in one messy package.

"I am finding that even though I am an American citizen and have an American passport, I am not an American. I thought I knew what America would be like before I came but it is so different!"

"You poor boy. I suppose you have been watching our TV over there?"

"Of course! The entire world watches American programs. Even the mullahs who hate your country watch your television. There are satellite dishes everywhere. Some say there are dishes hidden in the parapets of the mosques, but they don't say it too loudly."

"I've always wondered what people in other countries must think of us from watching the garbage we put on television. Tariq, I have never once seen a car chase, a policeman with his gun drawn, a member of the mafia or even a murder victim. I know you could find any of them, even in a city as small as Rochester, if you watched long enough, but I would bet 90% of the people here have never seen anything like that outside of the TV. Why, if I were to judge Iran by what I have seen on TV then I would think war and riots and policemen beating protesters were normal activities."

"I think I understand, mother. Father has said much the same thing. Perhaps that is why he wanted me to come to America, so I could learn for myself. It has been confusing, but there are many good people here who are trying to help me."

"I'm glad to hear that, Tariq."

"Mother, may I come to see you?"

"When?! How long can you stay?"

"I have three weeks before my college orientation starts. I could leave in a day or two and stay as long as I am welcome."

"Tariq, you will always be welcome in our home!"

"Thank you. I was afraid you would not want anything to do with me. I understood your divorce from Father was, um, unpleasant."

"It was, Tariq. I won't deny that, but it broke my heart when he took you and Yasmin away. I have never stopped loving you both."

"Thank you, mother. I just didn't know."

"How will you get here? Do you have a car? Will you fly?" she asked excitedly.

"I have not gotten a car of my own. My father and the people from the college assured me that having a car in Boston is more trouble than it would be worth, and very expensive. I have only been here a few days but I have started to make sense of the busses and subways. I think they may be correct. I think it would make sense to fly to Rochester."

"When you have your flight let us know. We will be there to meet you at the airport!"

"Mother, forgive me for asking, for I have been told I speak English well, I still have some trouble with the small things. You said 'we would meet you at the airport', does that mean you have married someone after father?"

"Oh my! I'm afraid you have asked a question that will be difficult to answer! I am getting married on Saturday.

He said something in what I assume was Farsi. "That is a traditional wish meaning 'Live and stay together till end of your lives'."

"Thank you, Tariq, that's a lovely thought."

"I can hardly believe this is happening. To have found my lost mother and then to find her about to be wedded. Allah has smiled on all of us this day."

"You aren't upset that your father and I are not together?"

"Mother, how could I be for I have never known you. Father seldom speaks of you but he has said he regrets he was a fool in his youth. Despite what some of our Imams teach about America father has told us that the people of your country are as good and as bad as the people of Iran. Having lived in London I can say he is right. He has often said we should be proud of our American heritage, so that I take to mean we should be proud of you. How could a son deny his mother happiness and a companion to share her life, even if it is not his father?"

"You're making me cry!"

"I am sorry! Do not cry, mother. A wedding is a time for joy, not tears."

"Not for a woman, Tariq! These are tears of joy!"

Again he said something I didn't understand "The pleasure of finding something is worth more than what you find. May you and your new husband be happy together."

"Oh Tariq, my husband is a very unusual person. I hope you will keep an open mind when you arrive and try not to be upset."

"I don't understand, mother."

It's more than I can go into over the phone, but I'm in love and sure that we will stay together until the end of time, just like you said."

More Farsi. "God gives to us according to the measure of our hearts. You seem to have me speaking Farsi and offering too many proverbs. I will book a flight as soon as I can so I can meet you and your groom."

"Goodbye, Tariq. Thank you for making my dreams come true."

She hung up the phone.

"Oh Kate! What are we going to do?"

"Call your mother, then panic."

"I'm already panicking! My son! My son is coming back!"

"To a situation so strange the daytime soaps haven't even thought of it yet."

"How would you know? You don't watch the soaps."

"But I do listen to my students and a few of my fellow teachers. There's always a discussion about who killed who and who is boffing what. As far as I've overheard, transsexuals haven't left the confines of the talk shows yet. That's it! I'll call up Oprah and get us on the show so everyone in America can watch us tell Tariq about me."

"That's not funny!"

"Sometimes it seems like we've told everyone else on the planet."

"I'm worried about only one person, Kate. Faruq was awful about gays, he hated them."

"And I don't suppose he gave a damn that about the difference between gays and the transgendered."

"The subject never came up. I learned a little about Islam while we were married, but that was ages ago."

"Then we need to learn about it now. Damn! There are a couple of people I could ask at the college, but they don't know me as Kate."

"Well, there's always the Internet."

"So there is! I suppose you could call me a product of the Internet, I learned the basics of how to become a woman from it. Then you, ahem, polished the image, my love."

So we adjourned to the computer and were amazed at what we found. The Ayatollah Khomeini himself wrote a fatwa approving transexuality! Yeah, that Ayatollah, the one who kicked out the Shah. The Iranian government will even cover half the cost for 'deserving' transsexuals to have surgery. He even changed the legal code so people in transition do not fall afoul of Sharia law.

Of course that's only for the Shia, and not all of them agree. The Sunnis still class us with gays and other lowlife scum. OK, I'm being a smartass, but I have a sore spot for intolerance these days.

So maybe it wouldn't be as bad as we feared. While we were reading about the Ayatollah, Steph was peering over my shoulder to read with me. Her breasts pressing against my back and her breath in my ear soon turned my mind to things far more interesting than religious proclamations and we shut off the computer and found our way to the bed.

I suppose religion was not as far from our minds as I thought - we did invoke a deity or two before we were through!

---

"Kate! Called Stephanie. "You have a letter from the New York Courts!"

"Hot dog. That means I'm official!" I tore open the envelope and it was there - my name was now officially Katherine Elizabeth Tucker! Elizabeth was my mother's name.

"Then kiss, me, Kate!"

I complied with gusto.

"Was it any better now that it's official? I asked.

"You've heard of 'don't ask - don't tell'?"

"Do tell! Let's go down to the motor vehicle people right now and get my license changed and sow some discord and confusion, then if there's time we can see about another license we need!"

In anticipation of this day we had created a pile of documents - Birth Certificates, utility bills, baptismal records, Stephanie's divorce papers, Social Security records, tax forms and anything else we could think of that showed who we were and where we lived. With the whole gay marriage controversy still very much in the news we expected a circus, complete with flaming hoops to jump through, when two ostensible women appeared at the town clerk's office and asked for a marriage license in a state that required only 'one man and one woman' need apply.

I was kind of disappointed at the motor vehicle bureau. I filled form MV-44 and took a number, waiting only a short time to be called. I would never have guessed it, but they had an actual policy for transsexuals. I presented the form, court ordered name change, the letter from my doctor, my old license and ten bucks. All they did was take my picture and tell me the new license would arrive in the mail in a week or two. They even let me select the best picture, but it was still a lousy picture. It was so routine it was downright annoying!

If you believe in Karma you know what happened next. The missing hassle from the DMV was delivered directly to the clerk at the town hall. FedEx should be so fast. I hasten to add we did NOT go to the Brockport town hall, it's a small town and we didn't need that kind of gossip!

"I'd like to apply for a marriage license." I said in my blandest tone.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but New York State law requires both parties to be present before a license can be issued."

"That's' OK. We're both here."

We knew damn well what she was thinking, but neither of us could resist playing around with the poor woman. It wasn't nice, it wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault, but neither is discriminating against gays and lesbians.

"Oh dear! I'm afraid the law states that only a man and a woman can be legally married in New York."

"We understand that, ma'am" I replied. "I was born a man and have not had reassignment surgery, so I am still legally considered a man."

And I wasn't going to show her my temporary license with the letter 'F' in a certain spot. I hadn't asked them to change it, but there it was. I didn't point out my psychiatrist's letter did not meet the strict specifications NY required to change sex. Maybe they only read the first line and assumed the rest or perhaps the clerk automatically entered 'F' without thinking. Maybe my goddess was in a good mood today.

"You're…" she paused. "You're telling me you're a man?"

There is something very satisfying in confusing the heck out of a bureaucrat.

"That's correct. I'm transgendered and live as a woman but New York, in it's bureaucratic lack of wisdom, still considers me legally a man."

You're a man?" She didn't sound too certain. "Well, each of you will need to have one of the following: a Birth Certificate, baptismal record, naturalization record or census record. In addition I will need one of the following proofs of identity: a Driver's license, passport, employment picture ID or immigration record. If you have been divorced I will need the divorce documents as well."

She was back in familiar territory, that spiel must have been used a thousand times before

"Ma'am, yours will have to state you are a man to legally issue a license."

That confused look was back again. We handed over the required papers and she examined them closely.

"Uh, ma'am? Your birth certificate doesn't specify your sex."

"That's correct. Illinois doesn't believe the government should poke its nose in its citizens business. A birth certificate simply testifies that someone was born."

"But I need to be sure of your sex."

"Lady," purred Stephanie, "I can assure you she's male from personal experience."

The poor woman started stuttering.

"Ma'am, if you look at my driver's license you'll find proof of what sex New York assigns to me."

The old one, that is!

"Um, yes. Yes it does. Excuse me, I have to talk to my supervisor about this."

She scurried into the back office and we held off our laughter until the door closed.

"Kate, that was downright nasty."

"Wasn't it though! I can't help it, I have an irresistible urge to bait bureaucrats. Shall we take off our clothes and do it on the floor if they don't believe me?"

"Stop that!"

"They must have cameras here. If we bought the film we could make a million bucks selling it to some porn channel on the Internet!"

A proper lady doesn't rut in public - or on tape!"

"So what's that got to do with either of us? That woman doesn't consider me a proper lady, or at least if we want to get a marriage license she better not!"

"Hush! She's coming back."

"Good afternoon, um…" The older man who must be her supervisor ran out of words. "I'm afraid we have never encountered a situation like this one and I don't know quite how to address you."

"The convention is to use pronouns that suit the person's appearance." I offered.

"Quite. Then, um, ladies, despite appearances your documentation appears to be acceptable for a marriage license. I don't wish to be crass, but if you have altered any of these documents your marriage will not be legal."

"I can assure you they are all quite correct, sir. I understand that most people have never run into a transsexual before and we can be disconcerting to deal with. I apologize if I have offended either of you."

"No offense taken, ma'am. When something unusual happens we need to be sure we are complying with the law."

"I understand. I've been through this before."

"Uh, yes. Elaine will take care of the documents and issue your license, then.

So New York got some more of our money and we got two licenses. Not a bad day's work at all!

---

"Kate, what is he going to think of us?" worried Stephanie. We were waiting at the exit door of the B concourse at the Rochester airport. Tariq would be walking through those doors in a matter of seconds.

"I don't know, love. We have to tell him, but let's wait until we're home. The security people might get the wrong idea if a middle eastern man started shouting at two women."

"Oh dear, I never thought of that!"

"Three women, dear. I'm not a doorpost." reminded Hilda. There was no way to keep Tariq's grandmother from meeting him at the airport.

Yeah, a middle eastern man in an airport, a man in a dress. People get crazy about the silliest things."

"Stop it, Kate!"

"Then stop worrying. We e-mailed him our pictures and he sent us one, too."

"He looks a lot like his father." Stephanie babbled.

"I can see his mother, too. Damn good thing, that." added Hilda. "Faruq was a handsome bastard. Too bad he was so much of a bastard that the handsome didn't help. Will he be wearing a turban? He wasn't in the picture."

"How would I know?" Yeah, Stephanie was nervous.

"I don't think so." I answered. "I met a Sikh a few years back and he explained how most people think anyone wearing a turban is a Muslim, which has given him no end of grief since 9/11. Actually Sikh men wear turbans because of their faith but there is no Islamic requirement that normal Muslim men wear them. He insists that the Muslim head covering is not a true turban, anyway, but I couldn't tell a true turban from a false one for the life of me.

"I Googled some images and most Iranian men didn't wear anything over their heads. Most of the Afghan men did, and the Pakistanis were a mixed bag. so I guess there are cultural differences we can't appreciate. My Sikh friend said that Mohamed wore a turban to differentiate Muslims from non-Muslims, but he said Sikhs wear it for much the same reasons."

"What a world! Americans learning Islamic culture from a computer and a Sikh." Muttered Hilda.

"I think we have an answer." I said. "He's not wearing a turban or anything else on his head for that matter." I felt Stephanie grip my arm very tightly. noticing Hilda was clutched in her other hand. "Come on, let's meet your son."

He spotted us through the glass panels and waved. Stephanie pulled me toward the exit door and my arm was suddenly free. She threw her arms around her son and said something like "My baby!", but since she was crying and her face was in his chest I won't swear those were the actual words she used.

I will always remember the look in Tariq's eyes as she held him. American and Iranian culture plowed into each other as a crying mother desperate to hold her son met the Iranian taboo of men and women touching in public. He looked shocked and pleased all at once, his eyes widening. They moved rapidly between me and Hilda with a note of pleading. Ironic, his only solace coming from two women, not a man in sight. If only he knew!

Stephanie jumped back and looked at her long lost son. The look in her eyes was quite different. They were shining and bright with excitement.

"Let the poor boy go, daughter!" admonished Hilda. "He needs to breathe!"

"Tariq, this is your grandmother Hilda."

"Could you stand another hug or has my daughter's enthusiasm scared you off?"

"Grandmother?" You are my grandmother?"

"Got it the first time. It's been a long time since I've seen you, boy."

"I really don't remember. I was so young when I left I do not remember anything of America."

"Well, that accent sure didn't come from America."

"I've lived in London since I was ten and that is where I learned to speak English. I'm afraid I sound like a bloody Brit, what? Pip pip, jolly good, and all that!"

His silliness broke what tension there had been and we all joined in the laughter.

"I think I could enjoy a hug from my grandmother. We're a long way from Tehran and I was never comfortable with the repression they live with there."

He took a step toward Hilda and she swept him into her arms.

"And this is my best friend, Kate." Stephanie continued.

Damned if he didn't take my hand and kiss it as he bowed!

"A pleasure, Madam. I am pleased to know my mother has such lovely friends."

"And my friend has a son she can be very proud of, I'm sure. Please, call me Kate, Tariq."

"With pleasure, Kate. Perhaps we should find my bag and get out of the way of the other passengers?

"An excellent idea, Down the escalators over here."

---

A minor miracle occurred and the airlines actually had Tariq's bag at the luggage carousel. We loaded it into the bed of the pickup and traveled westward from the airport to Brockport. I had a sense of Déjá  vu as Steph and Hilda force fed the family tree to the poor lad. At some point they both ran out of breath at the same time, leaving a small period of silence for me to invade.

"Tariq, I went through this myself a few months ago. There's no way you can learn all the names in one sitting, not with these two doing tag team on you. I'll have to find the notes from when they did this to me so you can study the whole family at your leisure."

"Don't trust her notes, Tariq. She still confuses Uncle Jehosiphat with Aunt Mahetabel." Stephanie warned.

"And you're confusing him. Mahitabel is the one with the mustache, right?"

"Don't listen to either of them, Tariq." Scolded Hilda. "They both share the lowest sense of humor on the planet."

"Just wait 'till you meet Uncle Shimon!" we chorused.

"Oh dear! I had mercifully forgotten. Bernie's Uncle Shimon has a sense of humor that could make a strong man weep." Hilda explained.

"He's only been here half an hour. Don't scare him away before we get home!"

"You can't scare me off. I have spent the last nine years cultivating a British stiff upper lip."

"Is that where you got that delicious little mustache?" inquired Hilda.

"I think that can be traced to father. My mother certainly doesn't seem to have one."

"You devil. You and Uncle Shimon may deserve each other!"

"I look forward to meeting him."

"Don't say we didn't warn you."

We had arrived home, so the repartee gave way to getting Tariq settled and showing him around the big old house. The weather was in the eighties, so we eventually found our way to the back deck with a pitcher of iced tea.

"So mother," Tariq asked, "when will I get to meet your new husband?"

"Oh damn! That gets a little complicated!"

"From what little I have seen all weddings get complicated."

"Not the wedding, Tariq, the person I'm about to marry. I've been racking my brain for a way to tell you about it."

"I do not understand."

"I'm sure you don't. You've been through a lot, moving to another country and meeting a strange woman who happens to be your mother. Now I have to tell you something that may…"

Stephanie was interrupted by a tinny dance tune. Looking sheepish Tariq took out his cell phone. It seemed that, like far too many of my students, Tariq was one of the younger generation that lived with constant communication. Someone was going to have to come up with a modern revision of the old 'saved by the bell' adage, though. 'Saved by the tinny dance music' just doesn't have the same cachet.

I can't report the conversation because it was in what I took to be Farsi. After a few minutes he offered the phone to Steph.

"Mother, Yasmin would like to speak to you."

"Yasmin? Oh, my god! I don't believe this! I've wanted to hear your voice for so many years and now… Yes, I'm getting married again! How strange your brother should come back just as it happens! You what? But - from London? Of course you're welcome! I can't believe it! Kate! Yasmin is going to fly over from London for the wedding!"

"That's wonderful!" What else could I say?

"Tariq? Could you put that thing on speakerphone so I can hear my granddaughter's voice? Hilda asked.

"Of course. Mother, if I may?"

He pushed a button or two and then we all heard Yasmin.

"Can grandmother hear me now?" came a light soprano.

"I certainly can. I never thought I would hear your voice, child."

"I wondered if I would ever hear yours! Now I'll be able to see you and mother and the rest of the family. I have often wondered what you would be like."

"So have I, child, so have I. You are really going to fly over here just like that?"

"I'm sure it won't be simple, but Father has assured me that it can be done. Of course having an American passport makes things much easier."

"You have an American passport?"

"Well, I was born there even if I don't remember it. After 9/11 father felt that having American passports would make travel much easier for us, so we went through all the paperwork and such. It seems odd to travel on an American passport when I've lived my life in London and Tehran."

"Your father has a way of getting through obstacles to get what he wants."

"Doesn't he though? He's standing here with a weird grin on his face when he heard that."

"Faruq is there?"

"Indeed I am, Stephanie. Shoma chetur hastin? It's good to hear your voice again."

"Man khoobam, Mamnoon! Oh my god, I can't believe I actually remembered how to say it!"

"Memory can be a tricky thing. Despite the way we parted I do have good memories of our time together."

"I wish I could say the same."

"What can I say? I was young and stupid. I thank Allah for allowing me to gain some small wisdom over the years. I hope I would not again make the same mistakes that I made as a young man."

"Perhaps. It has been a long time and I don't want to start a fight."

"Neither do I. I would hope we can be civil for the sake of our children. They have chosen to seek you out and learn what they can of you."

"Then we can agree on that."

"I am pleased. May I offer my congratulations on your impending marriage?"

"Thank you, Faruq. I hope not to repeat my mistakes this time."

"Then I will leave you to speak with Yasmin. Khoda Hafez."

"Goodbye, Faruq."

"Hello Mother. I've found a flight that will get me to Rochester on Wednesday night. Will that be all right with you?"

"Of course. We'll be at the airport whenever it gets in."

"Wonderful! I've been dreaming of meeting you for my entire life! I can hardly wait!"

"I hope I can live up to your dreams, Yasmin."

"Of course you will. I'm so glad we found you. See you on Wednesday!"

"Goodbye, Yasmin."

Tariq took his cell phone back and turned it off.

"I'm afraid we are causing your wedding plans to go wrong."

"You are causing our wedding plans to go right just by being here! I never thought I would see either of you again and now you are going to be here when I marry Kate!"

The tinny dance tune may have saved us once, but Steph's euphoria brought us back to the hard part. Abruptly!

"I don't understand."

"Oh Tariq, I hope we can make you understand. Kate and I are in love and we are going to be married on Saturday."

"You are marrying another woman?"

"Yes, but even that is not as simple as it seems."

"I think we should let Tariq have a little time to digest what is going on, don't you Stephanie?"

Hilda the peacemaker. Not that I was looking foreword to filling him in on the complete picture.

"I think a break would be a very good idea, Hilda." I responded. "We have piled a lot of things on you, Tariq. If you want to talk to any of us please come to see us when you feel up to it. Shall we take a walk in the garden, Stephanie?"

"Yes, darling."

"Tariq, would you like to see the old barn?" asked Hilda.

"Why not? I would like to learn about the family home."

"Then come along and I'll tell you about your Grandfather Henry

---

It was a pretty transparent ploy to get out of a difficult situation, but spending some time in the garden was soothing to the soul. The past may have been colliding with the future just days before our wedding, but for half an hour we simply sat on the bench in the garden, holding each other and admiring the beauty we had created together.

But even beauty and serenity can't keep reality at bay forever. Eventually the seat got hard and we returned to the house thinking about dinner. Working in the kitchen can keep your mind occupied quite as well as communing with nature, at least until the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Kate, Carl speaking."

"Hello Carl, nice to hear from you."

"I hope you'll still think so when I pass on the news of the meeting I just finished."

"It's been years since I shot a messenger and since you're on the phone I couldn't hit you anyway. Go ahead and tell me the bad news."

"The news is not all bad, but you have managed to stir up a good deal of emotion and consternation among the administration."

"Carl, that is an understatement of the first water!"

"Perhaps. Some people do find it a challenge to actually live up to the school's policies when it directly effects them. The policy is, and I quote, that the school 'Forbids distinctions made on the basis of race, color, religion, gender, age, sexual orientation, marital status, physical disability, and Vietnam-era veteran status where such distinctions discourage the initial selection of students and employees, or affect their treatment as members of the College community' end quote."

"The words 'gender' and 'sexual orientation' do tend to get emotional, especially when a man wears a dress."

"Bingo! There were some who lost their academic detachment for a time. I will not name names, but I'm pleased you suggested consulting Andy. He is a born diplomat and was able to provide a great deal of insight on the situation."

"I knew he would be. So am I still working or do I need to update my CV and start sending out inquiries?"

"You're still working, but with a few conditions. Basically, if you stay out of the women's bathrooms and behave yourself the college will accommodate your lifestyle. There will be a statement in more formal language but that's what it amounts to. Just remember that formal statements don't always reflect people's personal feelings and emotions. I will demand respect and professional behavior from my staff, but that doesn't mean your life will be a bowl of cherries."

"At least it's not sour grapes!"

"Off the record, it's going to be very interesting watching your students when they find out. I did think about posting a notice of some sort, but then I had visions of bulls and red flags and decided to leave it up to you."

"Wouldn't that be cows and red flags?"

"Kate, you'd clown around at your own funeral."

"I'm working on it. Seriously, you've been far more accommodating than I had any right to expect. Right now things are going crazy and having one less worry is a very good thing."

"Wedding blues, Kate? Thanks for the invite, Sara and I are looking foreword to attending."

"Not the wedding itself, Carl. Stephanie's long lost son just appeared out of nowhere and her daughter will arrive in a couple of days. She hasn't seen them since they were infants and their father kidnapped them."

"This sort of thing happens to teachers in the summer. They get hooked on TV soap operas and can't tell reality from a reality show."

"If only it were that easy! I about crapped in my panties when you showed up; how do we tell them about who I am?"

"TMI, Kate, TMI. I don't want to think about your panties!"

"A wise choice, Carl. I'd like to come in to see you tomorrow and talk about how to handle my students. I could use some advice."

"So could I! Maybe we ought to have Andy join us?"

"A very good idea. Should I call him or will you?"

"Let me do it, you have enough going on right now. I'll let you know what time we can get together."

"Thanks, Carl, you're a gem."

---

"Your grandfather Henry and I used to keep thirty five cows in this barn. We had to milk them twice a day, every day. I'm not sure which was harder, tending the cows or your raising your mother. All of them were as stubborn as mules."

"You and grandfather were farmers?"

"We sure were. Henry loved the land and wasn't happy if he wasn't rolling in the dirt. We planted the fields behind this barn with corn to feed the cows, raised a couple dozen chickens and even a pig or two. I suppose being Muslim you don't eat pork, but we made our own bacon and sausage."

"Living in London it is not so easy to follow the dietary laws, but I try. There is something about bacon that makes it very hard to follow the rules, though."

"And I suppose you've had a drink or two when your father wasn't looking?"

"Actually only once, and it tasted vile. I was disgusted when my friends got drunk and decided that Allah had good reason to prohibit alcohol."

"It can be a curse for some. Your mother had to find out the hard way when she was your age and it hurt to watch her try to destroy her life."

"My mother?"

"Yes, Tariq. I don't want to speak badly of your father, but after what he did to her she became suicidal and nearly killed herself with drink and drugs. Some very good people in California brought her back and she hasn't touched a drop since then."

"I do not know what to say."

"The don't say anything. It happened long ago and she has become a wonderful woman who has a rich and full life. Since she met Kate she has blossomed even more. It took me a long time and a good bit of soul searching to accept their relationship, but it is the best thing that has happened to either of them."

"Yet I am confused, grandmother. I have read of gay marriage in the newspapers but have never known anyone who is gay. Now I find my own mother is a lesbian. It is shocking, yet she is my mother."

"Tariq, you have never known anyone who admits being gay, I can guarantee you know many gay people who do not talk about their sexuality. I don't know all that much about Islam, but I understand that they condemn homosexuality even more vehemently than some Christians, so those who are gay will keep it secret."

"You may be right, but I have not considered the subject. It has never affected me."

"And suddenly it does. I hope whoever is in charge upstairs is getting a good laugh by arranging for you come here just now. I had resigned myself to never seeing you or your sister again, but you appear just days before Stephanie is getting married to what everyone thinks is her lesbian lover. You couldn't write such stuff and have anyone believe it! By the way, that big stainless steel tank was where we stored the milk until it was picked up. Dust off a stool and sit down, I think you need to hear the rest of the story abut who your mother is marrying."

"There is more? How can this be?"

"A good question, so I'll just give you the answer straight. Kate was born a man and has chosen to live her life as a woman. Your mother felt so betrayed by your father that she hated all men for many years and wouldn't have anything to do with them if she could avoid it. I think it was because Kate started as a man but had a woman's sensitivity that your mother could trust her enough to fall in love.

Tariq, I knew Kate a just little bit before she found herself and he didn't seem to be any happier with his life than your mother was with hers. The story sounds crazy, but two damaged people managed to find the perfect complement to their own deep hurts and fell in love."

"This is fantastic! Unbelievable!"

"I don't blame you for being confused and upset, but that's the way it is. I hope you are willing to find a way to love both your mother and Kate. They are very special people, Tariq. It would break your mother's heart if you couldn't accept her or Kate.

"Na uzu billah. Your pardon, in times of trouble I do return to my childhood training. Grandmother, I am not the most pure or holy follower of Allah and his prophets, but such things are a part of me. That was something we say in such times, it means roughly 'We seek refuge in Allah'."

"Well, I hope he is able to help. As a Christian I find thinking of Jesus and his teachings can help me find a way to turn my troubles into joys. I know that is not your way, but I hope your faith can guide you as well. There is an Islamic Center in Rochester run by a wonderful man called Dr. Shafiq. I've heard him speak several times and he strikes me as someone who knows what he's talking about."

"Let me consider, grandmother. Maybe I should talk to an Imam and ask his help."

"Just let me know and I'll find the phone number. There is a very active Muslim community here."

"That is a good thing to know. I think I need some time alone to think of what you have told me."

"Then take all the time you need. I'm so glad you've come back to us, I hope you will be happy you did."

---

"What are we going to do, Kate?"

"Elope and move to Tahiti?"

"I could see you in a coconut bra after your surgery, but a grass skirt just wouldn't work."

"We could make it out of Astroturf in strategic places?

"You aren't satisfied to have plastic tits?"

"Your tits are much more satisfying."

"At the proper time and place, darling, and this ain't it!"

"I don't think we can do anything but wait."

"You're right and I hate it!"

"At least Hilda finished dropping bombs on the poor kid."

"Why did he have to come back NOW?"

"My engineering buddies call it Murphy's Law - If anything can go wrong it will."

"And we still have to do it all over again when Yasmin arrives."

"Tahiti is sounding better and better! This whole thing is getting completely out of control!"

"Isn't it though? And to think I was worried about what Tariq would think about having a Jewish uncle."

"Isn't there some Bible passage about a mote in your eye?"

"Oh yes. In Matthew: 'And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?' I can still quote it from Sunday School, isn't that weird? I guess I was trying to forget my own problems."

"Well, falling in love with you has created a few problems, but the benefits are worth all the hassle. You helped me find out what was missing from my life. Talk about not noticing a beam in my own eye!"

"And yet religion is what is causing so much pain and misery because we found what was right for us."

"To quote Emerson: 'Patience and fortitude conquer all things'. The good news is we get married on Saturday come hell or high water."

---

I heard Tariq stirring shortly before sunrise the next morning. I assumed he was getting ready for his sunrise prayer, but drifted back into slumber before I could think too much about it. Stephanie and I rose considerably after the sun to find him sitting on the back porch deep in thought. There was a small rug on the porch, which I assumed was what he used for his prayers. The porch offered a good view of the rising sun on clear days, so it would be a natural place to greet the new day for a Muslim.

What to do for breakfast? We never got around to asking about food, what with dropping all the other problems in the poor kid's lap yesterday. I had a vague idea of what Halal meant, having heard that most Muslims resorted to food stamped Kosher when in non-Muslim lands since the dietary restrictions were very similar.

Of course Bernie didn't even attempt to keep Kosher when he ate, so were there Muslims who felt the same about things like pork? Bernie's catering business offered strictly Kosher fare when required. He complained about having to keep a separate kitchen for Kosher meals, but it must have paid off or he wouldn't have done it.

Well, potato pancakes should be safe and were good for breakfast. Some home made applesauce and a pot of sour cream and who could ask for more?

Bacon, of course. But not this morning!

"Good morning, Tariq. Have you eaten?"

He turned to face me and replied "Not yet. You have a nice kitten here. He's been keeping me company while I was thinking."

"Kitten? We don't have any animals."

"Then where did this one come from?" I could see he had a small grey ball of fur in his lap. "There are two others I've been watching but this one seems to be bolder than the rest."

"Good grief! Some idiot city dweller probably decided to dump them out here in the country because they didn't want them. How can people be so irresponsible?"

"I don't know. Father never let us have any pets, but this little kitten seems to like me."

"He is awful cute, isn't he? Lets find a box for him and see if we can convince his brothers and sisters to come out of hiding. They're so small they can barely be weaned."

"Weaned?"

"Able to eat real food and not nurse from their mother."

"Oh. That is a word I have not learned yet."

"Not one used in everyday conversation. Speaking of eating, can you eat potato pancakes. I don't really know anything about Muslim food restrictions."

"Pork and alcohol are the main restrictions. Cheese can be a problem if you are very fussy, but I am not. Please do not worry about the small details."

"Whatever makes you comfortable, Tariq. Shall we go on a kitten hunt?

"As long as they don't end up in the stew pot."

It was the first time I had heard him make a joke.

---

Breakfast was a bit of a zoo, not a one of us could leave the kittens alone. We had recovered three grey fluff balls from around the porch. Given their choice of the traditional bowl of milk and a can of tuna the tuna won paws down. You can eat breakfast one handed with a little practice.

My kitten seemed to have a breast fetish. She (I thought it was a her but who can tell?) was determined to curl up on my breasts despite being firmly placed on my lap numerous times. The only objection I had was the presence of 20 needle sharp claws resting on my silicone forms. I didn't want to be leaking into my wedding dress! Yet another reason to 'go natural' with the help of modern medicine!

My kitten was naturally named Boobie. The tortoise shell calico was soon christened Curious George and before the day was out the third one was Harry Houdini in light of the number of times he escaped from the box.

After breakfast, Tariq briefly looked up from the kittens to ask us "If it is alright with you, grandmother Hilda is going to take me to the Islamic Center to talk with one of the Imams there. We can meet you at the airport when Yasmin arrives."

"Certainly, Tariq. I'm so sorry that you have to cope with so many crazy things so quickly."

"There were those that warned me that Americans were crazy. I thought that having moved from Tehran to London I was a man of the world. How different could America be from England?"

"Wasn't it George Bernard Shaw that said 'England and America are two countries separated by the same language'?" I offered.

"Imagine what it was like for me, who spoke mostly Farsi for my first ten years. English is a very difficult language."

"And America can be a difficult country with people like me who do not quite fit the normal kind of life."

"I beg your pardon for being blunt, but grandmother Hilda told me you are a man, yet I can only see a woman. How is this possible?"

"A better way of saying it is that I am a woman who was born a man. It took me a long time to realize that. Are you able to understand why saying it that way in English is important?"

"I am not sure."

"The important part is how I feel in my head, how I see myself. I have come to realize that I think like a woman, that is why I never was comfortable living as a man. My body does not agree with my soul, Tariq. I am having surgery so that my body can be more like the woman I am, but I am a woman."

"I have only seen such things as the subject of ridicule. I lack understanding or experience. I am hoping the Imam can help me understand. I have only known you for a few days, yet you seem to be a good woman to my eyes. I am trying to understand."

"And I thank you for trying. It took me years to be able to think about it, then many months of soul searching to live my life as the woman I have become."

"I …"

We will never know what he was trying to say. Serious discussion with three kittens is a process with a very short half life. Boobie sprang off my breasts and flung herself atop Curious George where he lay in Tariq's lap. In seconds there was a kitten free-for-all that brought conversation to an abrupt halt.

By the time the melee ended Hilda had arrived and they were off to unscrew the inscrutable at the Islamic Center while we waited and worried.
 

We met Yasmin at the airport and she proved to be a lovely young woman. She had an amazing head of wavy black hair that reached to her waist, a figure much like her mother's and glowing skin of that burnished tone common to that part of the world. In short, she was knockout. I had been wondering if she would wear a headscarf but she let that magnificent mane fly where it chose. We would later learn she did not take her religion as seriously as Tariq and dressed as would any Western teenager.

I run into a problem here. I could describe meeting Yasmin at the airport, but if you re-read the part about meeting Tariq it's pretty much the same other than Yasmin giving me a hug as she met us. I could describe the talk we all had later, but you must be about as sick as I am of explaining about being transgendered by now. Short of borrowing a few finger puppets from Steph's classroom and writing a play I can't think of anything that would make it more interesting than the first dozen times I explained it.

Don't laugh! The other night I came across an opera about Chicken Little with an Italian libretto performed entirely with finger puppets. Honest to whatever deity you choose! Check out Love's Fowl if you don't believe me. If Chicken Little deserves a opera I think my Soap Opera life should have one too.

Anyway, if you will pardon me I'm going to skip over a couple of days of angst and getting to know two young adults who happened to be my wife's children. Too our immense relief, Tariq's talk with the Imam hadn't yielded a blanket condemnation of me as a transsexual or us as a couple. While the Imam didn't approve and had scripture to back him, he also found passages that amounted to 'live and let live' and 'love the sinner but hate the sin'. I've been told you can prove anything by quoting a verse from the Bible, looks like you can use the Quran for the same purpose. It all depends on what you want to prove and which passages you cite.

Yasmin proved to be a lovely and intelligent young woman. (As if any child of Stephanie's could be otherwise!) She seemed to be far less bothered by our alternative lifestyle than her brother. Hilda took it upon herself to tell some embarrassing stories about Stephanie as a child and we learned a little bit of what it was like to grow up between cultures. By Thursday evening we were at least feeling more comfortable about each other.

Don't get the impression we just sat down and talked, with a wedding scheduled for the next day we were interrupted about ten thousand times by phone calls or visitors who needed to know about one detail or another right NOW! I thanked my erstwhile goddess many times over that Bernie and Lucy were handling the catering and setup, it would have been impossible without them

---

"So, little sister, what do you think of this mother we have found after all these years?"

"Oh Tariq, I like her. She is not anything like I imagined but she is so wonderful!"

"I know it is silly, but I have always pictured her like the photo that father hides in his bedroom. I know she had to get older, but somehow…"

"People would ask very odd questions if your mother was the same age as you, brother."

"The Brits talk about child brides, but I think that would be carrying it too far. Of course she has to be the same age as father, but I still thought of her like the picture."

"I still can't believe we have a mother, but she's a stranger. I like her Tariq. She must be feeling much the same about us, but she has welcomed us into her home and made us feel at home. This is a wonderful old house and she has made it look so lovely. It seems sad the think this house is as much our heritage as fathers family home in Savyeh but we've never seen it."

"Yes, much like how we are Americans but have never seen America. It is a part of us but we do not know it."

"Tariq, I think I want to come to America for college next year when I graduate. Do you think I can talk father into letting me come?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think father's mind is still in ancient Persia. He loves living in the Western world but every once in a while he longs for the times when women were ignorant servants to their men."

"I've noticed. Do you think that may have been part of the problem that made them split? When he told our mother he hoped he had learned from his mistakes on the phone I think that may have been what he was talking about."

"I don't know. He won't talk much about that time. Neither will mother, I think. I suspect that we are being protected."

"I think we are, big brother. You know, Kate showed me our pictures in their bedroom. She still has them hanging on her wall after all this time."

"I wonder if she still thinks of us as her babies, just like I thought of her as a young woman?"

"Grandma Afrand still thinks of father as her baby. Maybe that never changes."

"Will I be that way when I have children? It's all so confusing."

"So it is. I can tell you that I had never expected anything like what we found. Remember when we were small and you dreamed of tea parties with our mother?"

"Back then I thought all Americans drank Coca-Cola. That was all we saw in the movies, so our mother must drink Coke."

"I haven't seen her with a soda yet. She seems to like iced tea. Grandmother told me that she doesn't drink alcohol."

"I'm grateful for that, at least. I'm not sure what I would think if our mother did like to drink. I know she's not a Muslim, but it would be hard for me to accept."

"Is her marrying a man who lives as a woman any easier?"

"I'm not sure I really believe that Kate could be a man. I really like her, she is so warm and happy, so caring and thoughtful. We sat and talked for quite a while yesterday. She's very much in love with mother and she was so interested in learning where we come from and what we've done. She makes you feel like everything you say is the most important thing in the world to her. How could she not be a woman?"

"So is marrying another woman any better than marrying a man who lives as a woman?"

"I don't know, Tariq! Ask an Imam, I still don't know what I believe yet. I know what we have been taught, but there is so much that doesn't make sense to me I don't know what to think!"

"I know what you mean, little sister! Living in London is so different than what it was like in Iran. What we learned in the London mosque was so different from what we heard in Tehran's mosques and what we heard outside the mosque was so different from what we heard inside. I love Allah and his Prophet, but it is hard to reconcile some of the teachings with what I see in the world. If the Prophet taught the only right way then why are there so many ways to interpret his teachings? We are Shia but are the Sunni really so wrong in how they read the Quran? Why are there so many people who do not follow Allah but love some other god?"

"I don't know, Tariq. Remember Sally who tried so hard to tell us about her Jesus? She was so sure that her church was the true path! And then there was James who was sure that the Pope was God's messenger and was always right. I bet if we had been old enough before we moved we would have known someone who followed the Sunni teachings that would tell us our Shia way was wrong. And all of them say that being gay is wrong, but crazy Gilbert was as nice a person as you could find and he was gay."

"Yes, Gilbert is truly crazy, but he is always the first one to help someone when they need it. I feel kind of funny around him sometimes, but he has never tried to come on to me. I did worry about it when we were in gym together, but he never tried anything with anyone. After a while it didn't matter any more."

"Maybe that's how we should treat this, like it doesn't matter. Our mother is still really a stranger, how can we know what is right for her? Do we have any right to pass judgment on her?"

"I don't know! Father warned us that no matter what we thought our mother would be like we would be wrong. I don't think even he had any idea how true that would be! Yet she seems to truly love us even if she doesn't know us. Even our aunt and uncle seem to love us just because we are her children. Even Uncle Bernie! He's a Jew and he doesn't care anything about our religion even though we have been told so many times that the Jews hate us."

"Sometimes I think growing up isn't worth it, Tariq. It was so much easier to let Father tell us what to do."

"Until he told you to do something you didn't like! Remember when he wouldn't let you go out with a boy until you were seventeen?"

"Like you said, sometimes Father still thinks like some ancient potentate. London is so much nicer than Tehran, especially if you happen to be a woman. I wonder what they would think of Kate in Iran?"

"They would be just as confused as we are. The Imam I spoke to here told me that Ayatollah Khomeini ruled that the government should help pay fro the surgery so that people like Kate can become as much like a woman as is possible. Then he reminded me that official policy and reality are often not the same."

"Then what should our official policy be, brother?"

"I think we return the love we have been shown and keep our doubts to ourselves. We will have quite enough to do with meeting so many relatives we have never known that we don't need to start a jihad of our own."

"Then we had better get ready for the rehearsal dinner if we don't want to make problems for Mother and Kate."

"I think they have enough of their own. See you in a few minutes, sister."

---

If I wasn't already seeing a psychiatrist, I told myself, I should have my head examined. Who in their right mind would switch genders and get married three days before the start of the semester? The wedding was tomorrow, but I had to put in an appearance at the college and at least make a weak and transient effort to be ready to teach my classes on Tuesday. Besides, the mandatory faculty meeting where, among other concerns, I would be introduced, awaited.

Tuesday? Why in heaven's name did the people that run this place pick a Tuesday to start classes? Oh well, mine is not to question why, mine is to answer innumerable questions as to why I am now known as Kate.

I have to be nuts!

Under the usual circumstances I would have gone in wearing a pair of jeans and something casual, after all there were no students there. Circumstances were far from usual, however. Once again I resorted to my best skirted power suit, girded my loins with a pair of pantyhose and ventured forth to my college office at an obscene hour in the morning. If you haven't guessed, most college professors are no more enamored of early classes than are their students, so arriving on campus at 7:00 AM I met virtually no one.

Chicken? Who, me?

Bawaaak!

Bless Carl, the little plaque by my office door now read Katherine Tucker. Since my key still worked I assumed I was still employed. Habit took over as I entered and I immediately turned on the computer and checked my e-mail. Right at the top of the list was this memo:

Date:  September 17, 2005 From:  Carl Santos,        Dean of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences To:    All Faculty, Staff and Students Re:    College Policy Please be aware that Professor Stephen Tucker has embarked on a significant life change. After careful thought and counseling she has decided to transition to living life as a woman. She will now be known as Katherine Tucker. Kate is a valued member of our faculty and I hope you will join me in wishing her the best in her new life. I would also like to offer Kate my congratulations on her impending marriage. I hope that this will prove unnecessary, but I will remind you of the following excerpt from our college policy: Other Forms of Unlawful Harassment Also expressly prohibited by this policy is unwelcome conduct concerning a person's race, color, religion, sex, sexual orientation, actual or perceived gender identification, age, disability, marital status, national origin, or any other characteristic protected by law that is sufficiently severe, persistent, and/or pervasive so as to substantially and unreasonably interfere with the individual's work or academic environment or performance, or unreasonably creates an intimidating, threatening, or abusive working or learning environment.

Well, there's no turning back now, even if I wanted to. I wish I could say I spent a productive morning, but it would be a lie. Things were quiet for the first hour, but by 8:00 I was hearing stirrings in the halls. I had deliberately left my office door open, knowing that I was going to have to face my colleagues sooner or later. I just hoped most of them saw the memo before they came in to say hello, after all it had been out for a couple of days. No doubt the rumor mill would have had time to start cranking out some interesting stories about me, but at least they would be prepared for the new me.

Fat chance! I had a bit of warning because Jimmy never does anything quietly. We had been known to go out for a beer or two after classes and enjoyed each other's company, but as I had recently realized I couldn't really call him a friend since I didn't really have any close friends until I found Kate. From the slap and clatter as he approached it was obvious he was wearing flip-flops.

I suddenly felt overdressed!

"Hey, Steve old buddy! How went the summer? Oops - wrong office!"

Nice to know Jimmy could be embarrassed. I hadn't really seen that before.

"Check the name on the door, Jimmy."

"Katherine Tucker?"

"I made some changes over the summer, Jimmy."

"What the fuck?"

"I guess you didn't get the memo."

"Memo? I don't get it. Is that you, Steve?"

"Kate, Jimmy. Call me Kate. Like I said, things have changed."

"Jesus Christ on a crutch!"

"Careful, Jimmy. You wouldn't want to get busted for sacrilege, would you? What would Father Pete say?"

"Fuck Father Pete!"

"I don't think he or his bishop would approve, Jimmy. Although with some of the scandals these days you never can tell."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well, to continue the religious metaphor, like Paul on the road to Damascus, I had a revelation. Also like Paul, I have been changed forever."

"Chr… uh, that must have been some goddam lightning bolt that hit you."

"That it was, Jimmy, that it was. At least I didn't go blind, but I did see the light. If we make it through the faculty meeting I'll take you out for a beer and we can talk. I still like beer, you know."

"Does Carl know?"

"Check your e-mail, Jimmy. Of course he knows."

I think I may need something stronger than a beer. You serious?

"As serious as I have ever been."

"OK, this ought to be one hell of a story."

That's about how the morning went, Every time I started to get some work done someone else popped in and I had to give them the short form of the story. I'm afraid I was a first class distraction at the faculty meeting, but Carl was patient and firm about treating me as just another one of his faculty and we all survived the meeting.

The meeting ended about 4 PM so, with the sun comfortably over the yardarm or whatever allusion you want to employ, Jimmy and I adjourned to a local watering hole. That's a bit of understatement since we had company; half a dozen of my colleagues had heard about my impromptu invitation and invited themselves along. Is it silly to say that I bought the first round to show I'm still 'one of the boys'? To my complete surprise the first question had nothing to do with my gender change."

"So Kate, the memo said you're getting married. How do I ask in a delicate and non-sexist way if you're marrying a woman or a man?"

"Tell you what - write to Dear Abby and come back when you have the answer."

"I think that Miss Manners would be the one to ask."

"It'd be faster, too. You can ask questions on line with Miss Manners."

"I think that simply asking that question shows you're missing some manners."

"Charlie, you're supposed to let Kate get a little bit drunk before you ask things like that. You'd have a better chance of getting an answer."

"Nah, if she's getting married tomorrow she'll get plenty drunk at the bachelorette party tonight."

"I hate to disappoint anyone," I cut into the banter, "but I'm not having a bachelorette party."

"No party? How can you flout tradition like that?"

"Charlie, take a good look at her and tell me about tradition."

"Oh, yeah. But it still ain't right"

"Don't let your students hear you saying 'ain't'!"

"Such niceties are a lost cause, my dear. These days I'll settle for sentences that contain both a subject and a verb. An adverb or adjective in context is almost beyond imagining."

"I think Kate here is proof that things none of us could imagine really do happen."

"Nice to know I come out ahead of proper grammar." I replied. "Before you all get too sloshed to remember, I am marrying a very nice woman named Stephanie. Any sexist comments and I'm not buying another round for anyone."

"If I promise to buy can I make a sexist comment?" asked Jimmy.

"If you buy, I can take one sexist comment. One and only one and I don't guarantee to give you an answer you'll like."

"You better make it a good one, Jimmy!"

"Yeah, you may not be playing Jeopardy but you are in jeopardy right now."

"OK, Kate. How the hell do you consummate a marriage with another… Owww! That hurts, Camilla!"

"You were warned, Jimmy. She's one of the girls now and we have to watch each other's backs with sexist pigs like you around."

"I'll watch your back any time, honey. I'll even watch your ass… Dammit! Hit the other arm if you have to beat me bloody in public!"

"I'm trying for enough blood to attract the sharks. When they're circling nicely I'll stop. When they spit out the bloody hunks because you are too rank for their taste I'll maybe, possibly think about forgiving myself for marrying someone like you. It's a damn good thing you're marrying a woman, Kate. You could have gotten stuck with someone like Jimmy."

"I've always wondered what you saw in the man, Camilla."

"Well, he is good at the consummating part of marriage."

"TMI Camilla, TMI!"

"Let's just say he has a lot to forgive, eh?"

"Christ, we haven't finished the first round and you're talking trash already!"

"Weren't we supposed to be grilling Kate? How come we're messing with Jimmy's sex life?"

"Cause Jimmy's sex life is a mess."

"He can get kind of messy, but I don't mind." Camilla had a smug smile on her face.

"So Kate, please tell us something to get off this topic before I gag!"

"I don't know, I kind of like not being the focus of attention."

"Please?"

"Well, if you insist. There's no bachelorette party because Stephanie doesn't drink and her children are Muslim. I'm not having one because of an incident in my past."

"Oh goody! Do we play twenty questions or will you just tell us?"

"Twenty questions!" hollered Jimmy. "I get the first one. Does it involve sex? Ouch!"

"Some people never learn. No, it does not involve sex."

"Violence?"

"Nope."

"Then booze?"

"Yes. You have seventeen left, ladies and gentlemen."

"Did you get drunk?"

"Nope."

"Your girlfriend got drunk?"

"No."

"The bride?"

"Negative. Fourteen to go."

"The groom?"

"Yes."

"So what, all grooms get drunk. How else would they do something as stupid as getting married?"

"The rules say the question must have a yes or no answer."

"That was a rhetorical question and a comment. It doesn't count!"

"The count stands at thirteen to go."

"Did he go through with it?"

"Barely."

"So if he got married it must have happened after the ceremony."

"Correct. Eleven to go."

"Hey! That was deduction, not a question!"

"To bad. Eleven to go."

"Did he make it through the reception?"

"He didn't make it to the reception."

"Christ! That bad, huh?"

"Worse. Nine left."

"Objection, your honor! That was a comment."

"Overruled. The incident in question happened after the ceremony and before the reception."

"He puked on the bride when they were taking the pictures?"

"No, but you're close."

"The bride puked on him?"

"Nope."

"Did he pass out while they were taking the pictures?"

"Close enough! The groom's twin brother got him roaring drunk at the bachelor party the night before the wedding. The poor bugger didn't drink at all and he was in abominable shape the next morning. What sounded like emotion when he said 'I do' was really him trying not to puke. He was so bad he couldn't stand up straight for the pictures. I ended up holding him up from behind while the photographer lined up the shot. I let go and got out of the picture, then tried to catch him before he hit the ground.

"His twin took him back to his apartment to try to sober him up but neglected to tell the bride. We were all waiting around at the reception hall without a clue what was happening. He never made it to the reception. That's why I am not going to have a bachelor party, my friends."

"Good lord! Did they stay married?"

"I don't know. I lost track of them years ago."

"Kate, you want we should drink your drinks for you so you make to your own wedding?"

"I'm glad to know I have such selfless colleagues who will take the bullet for me."

"Any time, old girl. When do we get to meet the paragon who will be tying the knot with your new, improved self?"

"What makes you think I would expose her to such scurrilous rascals as yourselves? She is a demure teacher lady and would live in fear that your drunken debauchery might infect her innocent second grade students."

"And she doesn't fear that your own, ahem, change of gender might be misinterpreted?"

"Oddly enough, she doesn't. She seems to have a fondness for the inner me she brought to the surface. I would not be the woman I am today without her help."

"The woman must be a miracle worker! Try as I might I can't see Steve in there. Too bad she couldn't have improved your sense of humor, though,"

"Perfection is a thing of beauty in itself and needs no further adjustment."

"Who said that?"

"I did. Weren't you listening?"

"The source, my dear. Who said it first?"

"Me, oh ye of little faith."

"Somebody call Bartlett's!"

"I call for another round!"

"Only if Jimmy pays."

"Only if Kate tells us what she did with Steve."

"That would take two rounds at least."

"I'm good for the second. Talk, woman!"

So I talked. You've heard the story before, but each new audience hones the tale to a sharper focus. If I don't watch out I'm going to get a reputation like Uncle Shimon.

---

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, as did I, thanks to refusing another round the day before. I had a distinct impression that coming home tipsy would not be a good way to start a marriage. I had made Lucy and Bernie's job a bit harder by issuing a blanket wedding invitation to my drinking buddies yesterday. Granted the invitation was to the wedding and not the reception, but I doubted the bouncers would be making the rounds and checking invitations. I knew there would be plenty of buffet for a few more people and it would be nice to have a few guests sitting on my side of the aisle. One of the challenges of an only child marrying into a large family is being outnumbered.

"Cut that out or we're going to be late!"

"I swear my hand was resting innocently on her breast, officer. It was just here and I couldn't' help myself."

"You can help yourself tonight, and tomorrow and happily ever after, buster. Not now and…Ooooohh… Stop it!

"Why?"

"Because I'll open the door and sic the kittens on you if you don't."

"Pick a better threat, my love. No way you're going to get those critters away from Tariq."

"He has taken to them, hasn't he?"

"Just call him mamma, eh?"

"I don't think that would amuse him, somehow."

"You're probably right. He's trying hard to figure all this out."

"Like I'm trying to figure you out?"

"I'm inscrutable. You'll never know everything."

"I do know if I do this it makes you purr like a kitten."

"Mmmmm. You're heading for twenty tiny little claws prancing all over your breast forms if you don't watch it."

"What about if I do this?"

"You have five minutes to stop."

"Can I do this?"

"No! Not that either. We have to be at the hairdresser at nine."

"You have hair right here. Can I dress it?

"No! Yes. Maybe. Behave yourself!"

My hand was left cold an lonely as she got out of bed.

"I get the shower first."

"We can save water and shower together."

"No. What would my kids think."

The same thing they think when we go to bed together. They have reason to know you are no longer a virgin."

"I just wish you could have attended to that."

"If wishes were horses then beggars would ride. I could ride you if you wished."

"I said no. Get your mind out of the gutter and put your tits on."

"I can hardly wait until I have them permanently. I just wish I could have done it before the wedding."

"Then you wouldn't have been in any condition to make inappropriate advances. You'll have to wait for the midterm break. Consider them a Christmas present. I should be able to fondle them by Christmas."

"I don't want to wait."

"If you wait any longer we'll be late for the hairdresser. A proper woman does not keep her hairdresser waiting on her wedding day."

"I won't say it. I will resist the temptation. I will be strong."

"You will be late. Get dressed! Now!"

---

"So tell me, Alex, does it make you nervous to be the only one in the wedding party that's not wearing a dress?"

"I'm the only one with a mustache, too. I've never been a best man to a bride before. I was Ralph's best man when he and Judy got married but he didn't make me wear a dress."

If only he knew how much Ralph would have liked to be wearing a dress! I hope I wasn't making him jealous.

"If you're feeling out of place we could try to scare up a skirt or maybe a kilt."

"Thanks, but I think holding the bouquet is good enough for me, Kate."

"We have rather been flouting wedding traditions, haven't we?"

"Traditions have to start somewhere."

"So they do. I guess I'm just babbling because I'm nervous."

"Good. At least that tradition isn't going to be changed any time soon."

"Speaking of soon, here comes Kristen. I think we're ready. I can't thank you both enough for standing with me today. We've only known each other a little while but I couldn't think of anyone I want with me more today. Except Stephanie, of course."

"Of course. The music's starting, here we go!" Alex stepped forward and met Lucy at the end of the aisle leading to the front of the tent. They met and walked down the aisle.

Would you believe we had almost forgotten about music for the wedding? We did things in such a hurry we almost missed that. Fortunately our musical friends Alex and Ralph had lots of other musical friends and took that worry away from us. I hadn't listened to much folk music but they sounded pretty good to me. Ralph had even brought his professional sound system so everyone could hear. I asked if him if he was a DJ, too, but his response was unprintable.

Despite our intentions to have a small, informal wedding the preparations were, I suppose, just as demanding as a major blowout. Not that I didn't enjoy having my hair done with Steph and Yasmin, it was a ball. My hair was getting longer, but was still short enough that there wasn't anything really spectacular that the hairdresser could do with it. She washed and set it with a little bit of curl, which looked very nice. Yasmin's long, dark hair gave her a lot more latitude and the result was spectacular. I firmly resolved not to be jealous that my stepdaughter outshone both brides.

Then there was the ritual of putting on the wedding dresses. I think some mad genius must be put in charge of designing wedding dresses so that the poor bride is stuck wearing them until someone takes pity on her and undoes the undoable snaps, buttons and clasps that prevent her from undressing herself. Then again, I suppose that's the normal job of the groom, who has a vested interest in divesting her of her finery. In any case, we had a giggle party getting dressed, with Yasmin seemingly oblivious to my birth sex as we put on the gowns together.

Hilda had decreed that no matter what our normal preferences for face paint and perfumes, we were going to be wed in full war paint and smelling like a rose. Each of us in turn was seated at Steph's mostly ignored vanity while Hilda made us beautiful. I will admit she was a rousing success, when she was done the brides glowed a few hundred watts brighter than the raw natural glow of an unadorned bride.

Having been charmed by Dan Duggin and his wife Peggy at Alleghany, we were delighted to find out Ralph actually knew him and convinced him to play for our wedding. The hammered dulcimer is a lovely instrument for a wedding. Kristen met Yasmin and took their turn, meeting and walking down the aisle, then it was time. No one gave us away, we were our own women and proud of it. I met Stephanie and we walked down the aisle together.

At least we tried to. About halfway down the aisle I felt a sudden drag on my train. Looking back I saw Curious George engaged in mortal combat with a bow on the train. What could I do? I handed Stephanie my bouquet and scooped up the little rascal. So, as we approached Verne, resplendent in a red robe and a great, beaming smile. I held a small gray kitten and Stephanie held two bouquets. So much for the rehearsal to make things go smoothly. Tariq retrieved the errant kitten and we managed to get the right bouquet into the hands of the right attendant, then turned to face each other and hold hands.

"I welcome all of you who are here to witness the marriage of Kate and Stephanie." Verne spoke. "I'm sure you have already noticed we have broken with tradition and have two brides, but love is a curious thing. Love often does not respect tradition. Greek legend tells of how the mortal Orpheus fell in love with the nymph Eurydice and angered the gods. Shakespeare's lovers Romeo and Juliet became immortal when they rose above the family feud that kept them apart. The love letters of Eloise and Abelard, a priest and a nun, stand as some of the greatest pieces of romantic literature ever written. Love comes in many shapes and resides in the most peculiar places. True love can not be denied, it can not be appealed, it can only be lauded and embraced."

"Kate and Stephanie's story of love is as unusual as any I have heard in my years in the ministry, but if you haven't heard it, then it is their story to tell when the time is right. I do know that they have found friendship with people who I call friends; people who guided them to me and people who urged me to perform this ceremony today. Love and friendship are a potent combination, one that can triumph over tradition and inflexibility. With that in mind, I ask you, Stephanie, if you will state your intentions."

Stephanie looked into my eyes and spoke.

"Kate, because of you I laugh, I smile, I dare to dream again. I look forward with great joy to spending the rest of my life with you, caring for you, nurturing you, being there for you in all life has for us. Before this company I pledge you my love. May our days be long, and may they be seasoned with love, understanding and respect."

"And Kate, I ask you to state your intentions."

"Stephanie, I offer you my love. I offer you my strengths. I offer you my weaknesses . I offer you my support. I offer you my loyalty. Before this company I pledge you my love. May our days be long, and may they be seasoned with love, understanding and respect."

"Having heard Kate and Stephanie state their intentions to be bound in matrimony, I now place this charge on you who are witnessing this ceremony. Marriage is between two people, but a successful marriage involves the entire community. We do not live or love in isolation, but as part of a larger society. Therefore I ask if you who are assembled here will support this union and affirm that these two should be married today?"

"We Do"

The reply was a bit ragged since they hadn't been present at the rehearsal to learn their lines, but they caught on fast.

"Will you cherish and support Stephanie and Kate as they embark on this adventure of commitment and sharing? Will you cheer them when they are sad, laugh with them when they are happy, console them in their losses and share the joys of their life to come? Will you, as their friends and relations, endeavor to provide council when asked, hold your peace when necessary, and welcome them joyfully into this new commitment they have made?"

"We Will!"

The response was stronger this time.

"Then by the power vested in me I declare before this company that Katherine Tucker and Stephanie Patrillo are henceforth bound in matrimony for now and all time. At this point I usually say to the groom something like 'You may kiss the bride', but I'm going to let Stephanie and Kate work out what to do next. I'm sure they will know what to do!"

We did indeed know what to do, and we did it with gusto!

A beaming Verne reached for his guitar and, as our folkie friends had urged us to have him do, played for us as we turned to greet our friends and family as an officially married couple.

Who would have thought it could happen to either of us?

We turned and walked back up the aisle, looking at all of our cheering friends. Jimmy and Camilla had indeed come to the ceremony and were sitting next to Dean Carl and his wife. Uncle Shimon was grinning profusely, possibly anticipating a new audience for his old jokes but, just maybe, happy that we were getting married. There were several teacher friends that Stephanie had invited but I had yet to meet, Brother Tom with his kids Julia and Tony, but Deb was conspicuous in her absence. At least she had not made further trouble for me with the college. I was amazed to see Beth sitting with Tony, how in the name of everything holy did she convince her conservative parents to let her come up here to watch two women get married? Better yet, how did Tony convince her to come? The boy must be smitten.

Ralph sat grinning at the sound console along with Judy, for once without his trademark tie-die t-shirt. Even Dr. Gallis, or should I say Jean and her husband, were here to wish us well. We took our place at the end of the aisle to greet our guests, where I received more hugs and kisses than I had collected in my entire previous life! About halfway through the procession came Uncle Shimon.

"Stephanie, my girl, I want to tell you about the last wedding I attended. When all of the bridesmaids had gone down the aisle a little boy followed. He would take two steps, stop, and turn to the crowd and put his hands up like claws and roar loudly. So it went, step, step, ROAR, step, step, ROAR all the way down the aisle. As you can imagine, the crowd was nearly tears from laughing so hard by the time he reached the front. The little boy, however, was getting more and more distressed from all the laughing and was near tears
"The bride very sweetly leaned over and asked him what he was doing. The child sniffed and said, 'I was being the Ring Bear'."

I groaned, along with everyone else within earshot. Now, I have to admit that Stephanie and I had done an Internet search before the wedding specifically to find a couple of jokes for Uncle Shimon. We did not intend to let him take over our day. Besides, he was in his glory when someone he had a crony to feed him material.

"Uncle Shimon," Stephanie replied, "you know that if your wife laughs at your jokes, it means you either have a good joke or a good wife."

"And I'm glad that both us have good wives, aren't you?" I asked innocently.

The press of well wishers prevented any more exchanges, but we were both sure we would have many chances to use our jokes before the party ended. I can't really give you all the details of the wedding festivities, being the center of attention makes it very hard to keep everything in memory. Bernie and Lucy outdid themselves with the food. I think both Stephanie and I were glad we wouldn't need to wear our dresses again after eating so much.

Stephanie and I had our first dance together since the contradance at Alleghany. It's much easier to dance when someone is telling you what to do next, but we managed to wiggle around while holding each other tightly until the song ended. Dan and Peggy got everybody up and dancing as well. Tom found time to kiss us both and wish us a better marriage than his own. He seemed torn between happiness for us and sadness at his own failed marriage.

At a loss as to what to say, we were distracted by the arrival of a bright yellow DHL delivery truck.

"What in heaven's name is that thing doing here?" asked an exasperated Hilda.

"I think it's safe to say it's delivering something. I sure as blazes aren't making any international shipments this afternoon." replied Stephanie.

"Would anyone care to ask the driver why he's here?" I asked.

"Will you stop being so logical? We've only been married a few minutes and already you're insufferable."

"You have not yet begun to suffer, my love. That comes tonight."

Tariq and Yasmin had hastily joined us when they saw the van arrive.

"Am I not understanding the English correctly, Kate. I did not think suffering went with what happens after a wedding?"

"Well, I do intend to have your mother crying for mercy before the night is over."

"This is something I think I do not need to know until my own wedding night."

"Well, if my plans work I'll be glad to give you some advice when the time comes."

"You will NOT," my love replied fiercely, "provide any details of any kind to my children or you will continue down the path to femininity a lot farther than you plan, buster."

"But mother, how will I know what to expect on my wedding night if you don't tell me?" Yasmin asked with an impish smile."

"Honey, if you go for a two bride wedding I just might tell you. Until then, you'll just have to wonder."

"Don't you think we should see what the man is bringing?" asked Hilda.

"I suppose we should before this crowd gets ugly."

"Our friends are not ugly! A little peculiar, but no comments on physical attributes, please."

I just love saying things like that. Too bad everybody here knew my secret, but it was fun anyway.

As we approached the delivery man opened the back of the van and slid a rather large crate from the interior."

"I have a delivery for Mrs. Stephanie Petrillo. Where should I put it?" the man asked. It was about then that he noticed the duplicate brides and his eyes got wide.

"If you would be so kind as to put it over on one of the tables there we can open it with all of the other wedding gifts."

"OK lady. If you say so."

He hefted the crate easily and carried it over to the gift table. It looked a bit odd, a rough wooden crate among all the gaily wrapped boxes and bags, but I was dying to see what it could be."

"Who's it from?" I asked.

Some guy with an unpronounceable name in London." The deliveryman answered.

"Faruq!" cried Stephanie.

"Gesundheit!" Hilda answered.

"Mother!"

By this time the deliveryman was looking like a small, trapped animal, his only thought was to get out of this crazy place as fast as he could.

"Lady, if you'll just sign this I have to get going."

"Of course."

She sighed the pad.

"I hope both of you and your husbands have a long and happy marriage." he said as he fled to a chorus of laughter from the crowd that had gathered to watch the show.

"So open it up!"

"Anybody got a chain saw?"

"Here, let me help." Alex pulled out his ever present utility knife and proceeded to unscrew the top of the crate. Lifting it off he bowed to us.

"It's all yours, ladies."

Stephanie removed the packing to reveal a beautifully ornate framed mirror, two matching candlesticks and an intricately embroidered cloth. As she did, Tariq told her "Mother, in a traditional Iranian wedding the mirror is known as the ayeneh-ye bakht, or the mirror of fate. It is usually lit by two candelabra, one on either side, representing the bride and groom. According to tradition, the mirror and candlesticks symbolize purity and love. Just before sunset, when the groom enters the room in the bride's home where the ceremony will be held, what he sees first should be the face of his wife-to-be reflected in the mirror. The cloth is a sofreh-ye aqd, traditionally a fine, hand-sewn wedding cloth glittering with gold and silver threads. It is spread out before the mirror and adorned with food and objects traditionally associated with marriage."

"There's a card, too." Yasmin pointed out. Stephanie opened it and read in silence.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, daughter! Tell us what it says!" Hilda was about ready to burst with curiosity.

"It's from Faruq. It says 'While I can never repair the damage I caused in my foolish youth, I sincerely wish you and your spouse a long and happy life together. May you find the happiness we were unable to have. Live together forever, Faruq."

Taking Stephanie's hand I told her "As I have reason to know from personal experience, my love, people can change. There is a time to bury the past and live for the future. Tariq, Yasmin, please tell your father that we will indeed live together forever."

With nothing further to say I kissed my bride soundly to the cheers of the onlookers.
 

Steph and I had just found a pair of seats to settle in and were starting slow down after a hectic and memorable day when Uncle Shimon found us.

"You know, I was just talking to an old friend about going to your wedding. He had decided it was time to find someone to share his life with after losing his wife. He always was a careless fellow, but his wife somehow always found her way home when he misplaced her until she left him a widower. So he makes up his mind to place an advertisement in the local classifieds. Being a man of few words, 'Wife wanted' was all he said. Next day he received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: You can have mine."

"I wonder if he was related to an old friend of mine?" asked Stephanie. "One day he came home to find his wife admiring her breasts in the mirror. He asked her what she was doing and she said, 'I went to the doctor today and he told me that I have the breasts of a 16-year-old girl'!"

"Her husband replied, 'Well, what did she say about your 75-year-old ass?'"

"Honey, your name never came up!"

Just like at the pie festival, we were off and running. A crowd started to gather in anticipation, but what we hadn't anticipated was Verne. Turns out he has a sense of humor to rival Shimon's."

Speaking of older couples, wasn't it Agatha Christie that said that an archaeologist is the best spouse a person can have; the older she gets the more interested he is in her?"

"Well, if you're going to be quoting great writers," I offered, "perhaps I could remind you that Ogden Nash once said that marriage is the alliance of two people, one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other who never forgets them."

"Did you know that Dick Cheney just said he supports gay marriage. I think he only supports it because he sees marriage as a form of torture, but anyway, he supports it."

"And didn't President Bush say he's troubled by all the gay marriages... He seems to think the only time two men should ever be in bed together is if one is a lobbyist and the other is a politician."

I wonder if he read the Dear Abby column where a reader complained that a gay couple was moving in across the street and wanted to know what he could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood. Her answer was 'You could move.'"

"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?"

"Did you realize, offered Verne, "That the Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean that God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they seem to need more supervision."

"OK, it's getting late," Uncle Shimon said, "and I need to get home and get a little rest, unlike the happy couple here. I'll leave you with this thought. There once was this woman who gave her husband a portrait of herself covered with the most amazingly beautiful and expensive jewels. Her husband was a little taken aback as they were of very modest means. Gathering his courage he asked her why all the jewelry. Her explanation - if I die and you remarry, I want your next wife to go crazy looking for the jewels."

Shimon was right, it was getting late. We once again made the rounds of those guests that were still there, thanking everyone for helping to make this day one to remember. Our friends and family all pitched in to help clean up, it's things like that that tell you how lucky you are to have people like that in your lives. With a last round of parting hugs and kisses we wearily but happily shut our bedroom door and spent our first night together as a legally sanctioned, if highly non-traditional, couple.

Just 199 days ago a lonely, friendless, wandering vagabond of an academic had freed his stuck window to an unseasonably warm day in January. Now I was a happily married woman with family, friends and even children. My life was set on a course that was completely unforeseen but perfectly right for me and the woman I loved.

---

If I thought that getting married meant the circus of the past week was ending I was completely mistaken. There were emotional goodbyes to be made for Tariq and Yasmin. If we hadn't warned Tariq that the luggage spaces in a plane were unpressurized I swear he would have smuggled out a kitten or three. Yasmin said she hoped to come back to the states for her college education just like her big brother. The big brother was firmly instructed to return to celebrate Thanksgiving with his newfound family and everybody had a tear or two lurking just below the surface.

The big old place seemed lonely with just the two of us once again. Good thing there were three rambunctious kittens around to keep us entertained as we once again settled into living alone.

---

We had agreed that, with the start of the school year so close and having traveled most of the summer, we would not go on a formal honeymoon. On Tuesday, August 23, 2005, a mere three days after our wedding, the fall semester started and the honeymoon was most definitely over. Today I faced my students for the first time as Katherine Tucker, PhD, a transgendered Adjunct Professor of English. I wondered if I was going to have any time left to lecture after my students indulged their curiosity.

I had again opted for my skirted power suit, hoping it would act as armor against the slings and arrows of outrageous students. Stephanie and I had brainstormed for some time, trying to decide on what approach to take. We had rejected a haughty stare at any student with the temerity to ask what had happened to Professor Stephen Tucker; after all a college is supposed to be a place to ask questions and get open answers. Then again, I didn't want each class to turn into a free for all of prurient interest.

For once, Stephanie encouraged me to go into lecture mode. We decided that I should start each class with a short speech outlining the basic facts. I would emphasize the medical nature of my gender change, offer a sheet with some further readings if they were interested and emphasize the need for decorum and respect. The sheet would also include the excerpt from the college rules about non-discrimination.

We hoped it would work, but as my recent life history had shown, I was lousy at predicting the future.

So I sat at my desk, nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, waiting for my first student. Just my luck it would be Patty, the exceedingly cute coed who had found me in Wal-mart buying my first package of women's panties.

"Do I have the right room? I'm looking for Professor Tucker's class."

"You have the right room, Patty."

"You have got to be, like, kidding!"

Oh well, summer break hadn't improved her speech.

"As serious as tonight's homework, Patty. There have been some changes over the summer."

"Gimme a break, Prof!

No, I didn't use the 'arm or leg' line, much as I wanted to."

"If you had read the revised information for the course you would have had some advance notice, Patty."

"Who reads all that junk? I gotta take this course to graduate, so I take the course."

"You never can tell when knowledge will become useful, even if you don't like to read."

"I like to read, but not all the crap the school cranks out."

I was almost tempted to agree, but this time it would have helped. "I'll go over it when everyone is here so I don't have to repeat myself."

"Jeez, I don't believe this. Hey! You weren't shitting me when you said those panties were for you, were you?"

"As Mark Twain said, often the surest way to convey misinformation is to tell the strict truth. Sit down, Patty, and all will be revealed"

Thus began a day of self revelation and trying to keep some order among my students. Of course the news spread like wildfire and I started to notice an inordinate number of students pausing to look into whatever classroom I happened to be in. The hard cases seemed to be the jocks and the committed feminists. The jocks took my conversion to femininity as a personal insult to their manhood while the feminists felt I was insulting their femininity. Amazing what a difference your point of view makes when looking at the same facts. Fortunately, there weren't too many espousing either flavor of intolerance.

One bright spot was my freshman English class that afternoon. I was bracing myself for another round of curiosity when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hi Aunt Kate, or do I have to call you Professor Tucker?"

"Julia! How's your first day of school going?"

"Great! How's your first day of school going?"

Well, I can't call it great, but so far nobody has tried to lynch me or been openly contemptuous. I am getting sick of having little clots of students suddenly stop talking when I get close to them, though."

"I take it they're not struck dumb by your charm and beauty?"

"Hardly. I am thinking that a few of them have perfected the almost sneer as an art form. I would have thought it would be mostly guys who do that, but there are some women in close competition for the grand prize."

"Karma, Aunt Kate. The men are becoming more enlightened so women are becoming more ignorant to compensate."

"I'm glad I teach English and not philosophy. It's all to deep for me. Anyway, you'll have to come over for dinner once you get settled."

"Thanks, Auntie. Talk to you after class."

As my students were arriving I settled in to teach Transgender Etiquette 101 as a precursor to English 201.

---

I arrived home completely exhausted. There's something to be said for having a wife waiting with a backrub and a good meal, I most certainly had no idea what I had been missing all these years! Things got progressively easier over the next few weeks. Some of my students changed classes, there were still incidents when someone ostentatiously ignored my presence, but no one did anything overtly threatening. There were a couple of nasty, anonymous notes in my mailbox, mostly with a fundamentalist 'you're going to burn in hell you pervert' theme, which I turned over to Carl.

I wasn't the only one who took flak, Stephanie had a couple of parents unhappy with their children in her classroom. The school board was mostly willing to back her up, but it isn't pleasant to have to cope with people who know how you should live your life and are very happy to tell you how to do it. Actually, I don't think such people are very happy, but you know what I mean.

Before I knew it the mid semester break arrived. With exquisitely bad timing, a conference on transgender issues was held on campus on October 13th, the day before my augmentation surgery was scheduled in New York City. I wasn't invited to participate, but I did attend and tossed in my two cents so many times I was out a couple of dollars before we hitched up the trailer and headed for the wilds of New York City to camp.

The surgery was billed as 'outpatient', which means you get to go home after they make sure you aren't going to die any time soon. The surgery was like any hospital, you get to wear a hideous gown, they poke you full of holes and hang various tubes and wires off your body. Eventually a nurse inserts a syringe into the IV and you wake up feeling lousy with someone sitting on your chest and a surgical bra trying to break a couple of ribs.

I don't want to dwell on it, but it hurt! I knew it was going to hurt and I thought I was ready for it, but I really wasn't. Stephanie was a saint, putting up with my whining and still loving me. When it stopped hurting so much I was able to appreciate being in our cozy little trailer and the nice, firm bed. This was important because I wasn't getting out of that bed any more than I had to. There was no way to be comfortable; on my back the weight of my new breasts was annoying, on my side gravity pulled things in ways that strained the incisions. Sitting up had it's own set of miseries.

I had a couple of serious talks with my goddess. Breasts sound like a great idea but they have some drawbacks. They're heavy and when you start out male you don't have enough skin to cover those big lumps so you stretch! When it stopped hurting it feels odd as your skin tries to work into it's new shape. Other than a couple of trips for the doctor to check me over I spent the week recovering in the trailer watching mindless TV or reading. Yeah, I was feeling lousy enough that Television was almost tolerable as a distraction.

I hated the surgical bra, but taking it off was a lousy idea because my body didn't know how to support those supposedly wonderful breasts I now had. After the first shower I kept the damn thing on while the water poured over me and changed once I got out of the shower.

After about a week of healing I stopped berating my goddess and noticed that I could move without being constantly reminded of the newest parts of my body. The swelling had started to go down and the bruising was fading from livid purple to a disgusting yellow brown. I was starting to think the damn things might someday be as feminine as I they seemed to me before surgery. Saturday I even felt well enough to go out for dinner with Stephanie.

I had a fleeting thought about trying to show off some of my newfound cleavage, but that would have earned me sympathetic attention from those who would be sure my husband was beating me. The bruising was still visible and the fact that I didn't have a husband was irrelevant. Besides, the weather had turned a bit cool and I wasn't keen to go out with all that irritated skin exposed. The inserts were still riding rather high on my body - it would take weeks for them to settle down to their final position.

The ride home on Sunday was almost tolerable, but there are far too many cursed potholes between New York City and Rochester. Toward the end I was cursing every damn one of them by name and lineage. I used the last of the serious painkillers the doctor had given me on Sunday night and slept well for the first time in a week.

Returning to class was an anticlimax, no one was aware that my breasts were now part of me instead of silicone blobs in my bra. I passed off a few remarks about my occasional winces as 'some minor surgery, you know' and people were properly sympathetic. I'd hate to have you think all I did was complain about the surgery. Eventually the pain went away once my body accommodated my new breasts.

In anticipation of the day when I could reveal some cleavage I had gone out and bought several new bras with nice, deep plunging cups. Up until then I had favored full coverage bras which kept my forms safely in place. Practical, but just not the right thing when you want to show off your new boobs. In a nice bit or irony, the swelling and bruising were gone by Halloween, the crossdresser's favorite holiday. I was able to go to a party in a sexy witch costume that left little to the imagination.

That's not to say I didn't feel completely exposed and embarrassed, but I did have fun watching the men at the party try to stare down the cavern I now had between my breasts. I can see where this might get old pretty soon, but that first night it was a great experience! Speaking of great experiences, the first time Stephanie played with my new breasts as we made love I apologized profusely to my goddess for all the nasty things I had said about her.

I was sitting in my office trying to grade some papers when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hi Professor Aunt Kate. I've been hearing so me rumors about you."

"Hi yourself, niece Julia. Pull up a chair and rest yourself."

"I can see that the rumors are true. You have cleavage."

"And just what have you heard about my cleavage, pray tell?"

"That there are a couple of guys getting conflicted worshiping your cleavage and realizing you aren't a woman. Poor babies don't know what to think."

"Perhaps we should get them to enroll in a creative writing class. You know I teach that writing is a great way to resolve conflicts."

"Do you really want to read adolescent fantasies of the 'valley of desire between the snowy hills of flesh' knowing it's your flesh?"

"Julia, have you been reading romance books again?"

"Who? Me?"

"So the opinion about campus is that my doctor succeeded in his craft?"

"Don't be surprised if a couple of girls ask for a referral."

"If they have the nerve to ask I have his card."

"You're looking good, aunt Kate. Are you glad you did it?"

"Now that I'm healed I'm very happy."

"Good for you. Got to run, my next class is across the campus. I'll get you some sexy lingerie for Christmas."

"Stephanie has it covered, child."

---

I'm sure you've heard the old Chinese curse 'May you live in interesting times'. Interesting times may indeed be a curse while you're living in them, but if you are telling a story they are an essential ingredient. I have tried to be honest with myself and my readers as I described my journey from Steve to Kate, from an aimless man and mediocre professor to a happily married woman and (finally!) tenured educator who has the respect of her colleagues and students.

Frankly, my life is no longer interesting to anyone but my close friends and family. People can only be irritated and appalled by a transgendered woman for so long before they run out of energy. Likewise, even the most ardent supporter of transgender rights finds other things to do when their latest cause blends in with the rest of humanity and is no longer a celebrity.

In other words, there's not much more to tell. Thanksgiving of the year 2005 was a holiday with a special meaning. Stephanie and I threw a bash for our family and the wonderful friends we had made during this incredible year. We strained the space in our big, old farmhouse as Ralph, Judy Stephanie and I collaborated on a feast of epic proportions. Turkey in the traditional Petrillo family manner, Ralph's Hungarian leg of lamb with enough garlic to sterilize the entire country of Transylvania, Brussels sprouts with butter and the rest of the world's supply of garlic, Jell-o salads, fruit salads, dressing, potatoes, yams, squash, green beans in mushroom soup, you name it and we ate it. By this time my new breasts were pain free and as delightful as I had dreamed, so I was starting to think about buttock enhancements. After all, so many people considered my transition a pain in the ass I figured I could do without those padded panties and make their fantasies reality. However, after that meal I don't think I'll need any more padding for quite some time.

Ralph & Judy, Alex and Kristen, Tariq, and all of the Petrillo clan were there, including both Deb and Tom, who had come to some sort of tentative truce. Deb spoke not a word directly to me but she was obviously trying to get along with her family. Of course our rapidly growing felines scampered about with glee. Hint: don't leave the turkey carcass out on the counter too long or you won't get any leftovers to eat later that evening! All we needed was Tiny Tim to stand up and say 'goddess bless us, every one'. Wrong holiday, but the right sentiment.