Kate Part 2 free porn video

Kate, Part 2 By Ricky Having made the decision to live as Kate over the summer, 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 make Kate a real person, I ordered a voice training CD and subsequently spent a lot of time talking to a tape recorder. For that matter I spent a lot of time looking for a tape recorder; they're going the way of the turntable these days. I got another DVD on how to move more like a woman and tried to assimilate all that good advice. I got makeup and tried to do something with it, but it was hopeless, so I ordered yet another disc and followed the directions once again. Within hours of handing in the graded finals and closing my office door for the summer, I had my ears pierced, then got frustrated having to wait weeks before I could take the starters out and wear something else. We went shopping again. After all, Kate really needed a wider selection of clothes to make it through the summer. And a purse! No pockets in most dresses and skirts. Besides, I liked shopping for Kate; it's much more fun than buying clothes for Steve. The Volunteers of America thrift stores were a good 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. 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 made me order a gaff, which looked damned uncomfortable but might come in handy. Does this sound too much like a goal-oriented man instead of a relaxed woman? I know I went a little crazy, but I had a lot of time on my hands, and once Stephanie agreed to come with me I wanted to do it right. All through this she was 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 after they assured me that they had facilities for me to change into Kate so that I could arrive as plain old Steve. It was for Friday afternoon, but I found 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 so I can spend the summer as Kate." "Lucky you!. That shouldn't be too hard. 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. Now, I'll do you 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 a little, but this is still pretty new to me. My friend is one of those women who doesn't like makeup too much, so she can't help me." "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 basics 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, once you've had a bit of practice, she'll do a bang up job on you; 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, I doubt she would have been amused. "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. I had chosen my dress because it was made from a fabric that wouldn't wrinkle easily. It was off-white with a daisy print, perfect for a gardener's soul. Not perfect for the garden, though, with the long angel sleeves (the better to conceal my too large arms) and full, ankle length hemline. 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 lessons in basic makeup, 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 and over the next couple of weeks I put her lessons to good use. It was much easier to do a good job when someone shows you how; the DVDs just didn't cut it. I 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. 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 are so cute!" She hugged me, and I feared for my makeup. "Cute enough to go out with and celebrate my last day of school, girlfriend?" "Only if you let me buy the 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 was once again right, and I gradually felt my panic recede and finished the meal. The only hitch came when it came time to pay the bill. I had not even 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, so 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 we sat and watched the sunset in companionable silence, enjoying each other's company. 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 summer 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 think so. We can check tomorrow, but I'm leaving my credit cards at home. I want to have enough money left to go on vacation." 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 tenant 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 B 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 holes 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 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 a bra." "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. "So where are we going to go in our new clothes?" she asked. "Damned if I know. I hadn't much planned beyond hanging out with you. You could check the paper while I get breakfast and see if there is something suitably cultural for two women of proper breeding to attend." "I don't have to check. It's Harborfest weekend, we could go see the new ferry, and then we could ride on the carousel." "Would I have to ride sidesaddle in this dress?" "Think of it as the ultimate test of your newfound femininity." "And a passing grade means I'm passing. How appropriate." So that's how we spent the day, mingling with the crowds at the Harborfest. We toured the fast ferry that had been so much in the news with its financial troubles. That sucker was big! I had ridden a small ferry on a visit to Vancouver years before, so I unconsciously expected this ferry to be like the one I had ridden. The guide told us it was 284 ft long and as high as a 5-story building; nearly as long as football field and bigger than a jumbo jet. In fact, I played Tourist to Stephanie's Native Guide as we climbed to the top of the lighthouse, toured the world's oldest operating fireboat, and ate Zwigel's hotdogs. The brand name is important, or so I'm told. Rochesterians are proud of their hometown hot dogs. I had a ball. At first I was very conscious of being Kate and wearing a dress in public, but after a little while, with no one seeming to notice I was anything but another person in the crowd, I relaxed. We did get a few pickle faces, but some people didn't approve of a lesbian couple holding hands in public. It was quite a kick to feel the breeze blow up my skirt. It was even more of a kick to have a gentleman hold the door for me when I entered one of the little shops that line the street near the park. We did indeed ride the carousel, several times, even if wearing a skirt made it interesting mounting a painted pony with dignity. To hell with dignity, I felt like a kid again as we held hands as we bobbed up and down on the horses and ignored the occasional dirty looks. I also found out there were such thing as carousel fanatics. Several of them were determined to ride it 100 times for it's 100th anniversary. We weren't quite so ambitions. In fact, by the end of the day we had no ambition left, period. When Stephanie pulled her little car into the driveway, we collapsed together on her couch and stared out the window at the peaceful scene without moving a muscle. It had been quite a day. "Kate?" she murmured. "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. I think I'm in love with you." "I've been falling in love with you for quite a while now, but I didn't say anything because I didn't think you were ready to hear it." "I guess I was pretty obvious, wasn't I?" "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. Sunday 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, but since my clothes were all over in the cottage I had to make my way across in my 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, 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 queen set? We decided to worry about that later, after all we were planning to spend the summer in a travel trailer. We wouldn't be using the bed that much. 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 all day yesterday 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." "It figures my daughter would do her spring cleaning once it's already summer. 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?" "I came out to pick some strawberries now they're in season. I thought you might like to come along, but I didn't realize you had company." "That sounds like fun. Want to pick strawberries with us, Kate?" Did I? Well, being with Stephanie was fun, but what about her mother? So far she hadn't twigged, but how long would that last? Did it make any difference? We were going to have to tell her sometime, but was the middle of a strawberry field the place to do it? For that matter, would there be anyone else there who might recognize me? I couldn't stall too long. Meeting my students wouldn't be a problem, they were gone for the summer. While the town-gown divide I had seen at some colleges wasn't all that wide here, what were the chances someone I knew would be picking strawberries the same time as we were? Too bad I couldn't ask Milt in the Math department. "I'd love to go along. I've never picked strawberries before." What the hell, I couldn't hide forever. "Great. Let's see if I can find you a pair of shorts to wear, Kate. You wouldn't want to get strawberry juice all over your pretty skirt. Since you've never picked strawberries before, I'll warn you that you'll be wearing pink panties when we're done no matter what color they started out." She giggled. "Hold on, Mom. We'll be with you in a minute." "Good thing you left your jean shorts here last weekend," she whispered when we were down the hall a bit. "Good thing they're baggy! At least we brought my padding with us with the first load of clothes. Too bad I can't run over to the cottage for my gaff without making her wonder how I'm connected to your tenant. Can I borrow another pair of panties, preferably good, tight elastic ones? "What's a gaff, besides what we're making with mother?" "A device to keep my less than female anatomy concealed. It's damned uncomfortable to wear, so I decided loose skirts were a better option. You do realize this is completely crazy?" "Sure thing, girlfriend. We'll figure out how to tell her later." "Glad to see I'm not the only chicken in the coop." "Brawwwkkk!" 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 tight panties I was wearing that quickly became uncomfortable. Besides, every time I moved I felt a strawberry or two squish under my bottom, and I knew that Stephanie 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 crossdressed! 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. I began to worry about my makeup in the warm field, but there was no way to do anything about it. 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. I tried to stay in the car (praising the air conditioning!), but she insisted on treating us to lunch at the Chinese buffet in the store - so much for keeping a low profile near home. I had hoped to quietly visit the restroom to see if there was any way to salvage what was left of my minimal makeup, but that proved a forlorn hope as well. Both my companions had refused to use the portapotty in the strawberry fields and came right along with me. I tried to convince myself they would be protective coloration, but by then I had given myself to the hands of whatever Goddesses take crossdressers under their protection. To my immense relief, my inner vision of my makeup dripping off in the heat and leaving great blotches of hairy skin visible proved to be a figment of my imagination. I told you the damn thing was too active. Stella had been right when she told me the makeup was waterproof and sweatproof. Whew! I made some minor touchups and even managed not to flinch when Hilda used the sink right next to me. My spirits buoyed, I actually enjoyed lunch. 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. On the way back, Stephanie and her mother decided that it made sense to put up the strawberries in Stephanie's kitchen, which was much bigger than the one in Hilda's apartment. We settled around the table, armed with sharp knives, to hull and slice strawberries. 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. Hilda and Stephanie reminisced about the family and all the home canning they had done, a pleasant conversation that I eavesdropped on while enjoying the repetitive motion of slicing strawberries. 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?" And I was worried about those two girls. I should have been looking closer to home. "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 be so close to you all day and not notice 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 not huge State School had just been created from a small Normal School for teachers; the rest of the area had to have been unrelentingly 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 conservative background. 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 you came home from California, 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, put my strawberries in the freezer, 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 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, with the air conditioner softly humming and 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 you 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 Kate 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 to 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 do 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 on Mondays 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 after she helped me get out of that dress; 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, "You might even civilize him enough for polite society after a few years. Bernice has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? You'd look cute in a