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A Mother's Love by Alys Chapter 1 I eased into the small gap in the traffic slowly moving around the massive roundabout near Archway in North London. The middle aged male driver in the battered white Ford transit glowered at me momentarily and then accepted the inevitable with good grace. I smiled back and acknowledged him letting me into the flow of slow moving traffic. How I hated Monday mornings, the jolt of going back to work after the winding down of the weekend and having to compete for space on the overcrowded roads. It was a particular shock to my system after my five weeks off work. The reason for my five weeks off sighed in her sleep and moved her little head a fraction in the back facing baby carrier in the car seat next to me. She looked so beautiful in her pink babygrow, wrapped in a woolen shawl as a protection from the Spring morning slight chill. The traffic crept down the main North East London artery road, so much for driving on a clearway with draconian double red lines, it still wasn't possible for the traffic to move faster. I looked at the car clock, it read eight-sixteen. There were only twenty minutes to get to work, park the car, drop off Bekka at the nursery and get to my desk. I began to regret that I had not studied black magic in an earlier life in order to wish into non existence all the fellow commuters who were in my way. Suddenly, as if in answer to my non magical plea and without prior warning or obvious reason, the traffic started flowing freely. Within ten minutes I had turned off the main road, just past the ungainly clutter of the local campus of London Metropolitan University, into the private underground car park of Adventure Travel PLC. "Hi, John," I said to the friendly elderly security guard as I walked through the automatic doors into the marble floored plaza carrying Bekka in her car seat. "Hello Mr Jones, welcome back, and is this your little one?" he asked as I stopped by the lift. "Yes, John. Her name's Bekka. How's Mrs Everrit?" I enquired. "She's bearing up thanks, her arthritis is affected by the damp weather of the last week, though" he replied. The arrival of the lift ended our brief conversation. I said goodbye to John and pressed the button for floor three. The doors were almost closed when two young women smartly dressed in the customer service uniform squeezed in. "Hello Jules," I said to the dark headed tall attractive woman, who worked in the same department as me, "floor one?" "Yes thanks," she responded, "oh hello Steve, I was looking at your little one, is it a girl?" "I guess the pink babygrow is a giveaway," I replied with a laugh, "her name's Bekka." "That's a nice name," said Jule's companion, a smaller pretty woman, about the same age with long natural red hair. "Yes it is. Steve you haven't met Kathleen, she started last week" commented Jules. "Nice to meet you Kathleen," I said, "how are you finding the work?" "It's exciting, especially the international aspect of it," she replied. "Kathleen speaks even more languages than the rest of us, Steve, she can speak Japanese," said Jules a little enviously. "Wow, that's amazing." "How is Mary? Is she happier now?" asked Jules. I hesitated, there was an embarrassing pause for a few seconds. I looked at the floor where Bekka was sleeping oblivious of the conversations. "She's gone," I said quietly. The arrival of the lift at the first floor relieved of the burden of providing further explanation. About half a minute later I was walking along the third floor corridor towards an area marked out with primary colours and murals of cartoon characters. I was lucky that the office block housed both the specialist holiday section that I worked in and the much larger package holiday division which meant that the company could provide a workplace nursery. "Hello, I'm Steven Jones, I had an email from my line manager about bringing my daughter in today" I said to the thirty something attractive nursery nurse sitting behind the small reception desk. She was typing something on her computer. After a couple of seconds she looked up and smiled at me. "Good morning Mr Jones, I'm Janis Smith and this must be Bekka," she replied. "Yes." "Put her nappies* in the locker with her name on and your labeled bottles in the fridge" she said routinely to me. I hesitated. "You have some made up some bottles?" she asked a little dismissively. "No." "You men are so useless sometimes, lucky we have some spare formula for these situations. do you know what label she is having, they don't like change." "No, but......" I tried to explain. "Well, I'm sorry," she interrupted a little angrily, "I can't be expected to look after a baby that I can't feed since you and your wife have been too disorganised to prepare some feed and I don't have enough time to introduce your child to formula milk, I do have 3 other babies to look after" "She can't have formula, she's intolerant of cow's milk," I explained. "Then your wife should have expressed some milk for your daughter," said Janis getting more irate. "It's umm ok, I don't expect you to feed Bekka." Janis looked like she was about to explode, she stood up and pointed her finger at me. "You are either some dumb idiot or worse still you are deliberately neglecting your child, now get out of my sight and take your baby home and look after her properly" she stated firmly emphasising herself with her wagging finger. I looked down at my lovely daughter, I gently moved a curl off her forehead as she slumbered peacefully in my arms. "I'm breastfeeding her," I said simply. Janis looked like she had seen a ghost, she looked at me in complete bemusement, then apparently decided that she was dealing with someone who might be mentally deranged and reached for her phone to no doubt phone security "Wait," I said, "before you phone let me show you." "Show me what?" she demanded. "How I can breastfeed" I replied. "But you're a man!" She hesitated and I took advantage of that pause to unbutton my loose shirt with my right hand as I held Bekka in my left. I opened the shirt, lifted my baby to show my nursing bra. Janis's eyes almost exploded, I opened the pocket of the bra and exposed my nipple and my left breast firm with milk, a little of which was running down onto the breast pad. "Oh my god! You are too." There was a pause as she recovered from her shock, then she resumed her professional posture. I covered myself up again. "OK I don't have time for explanations now, the other children will be arriving soon, but I guess you can have the same arrangement as for the other children who are breastfed here. Here's the pager that will tell you when you need to come and feed your baby. Please get here as soon as you can when you get paged." As usual on a Monday the work was hectic, problems that had arisen that the skeleton staff on the weekend would only monitor, unless there were emergencies, had to be dealt with quickly. Soon , along the with small team of eight fellow workers, I was working through my list of phone calls, emails and faxes and replying to the high priority ones. After some phone calls in French, German and English and sometimes a mixture, to agents, hoteliers and suppliers, I was replying to an urgent email from a tour operator in South Africa when I heard a loud beeping noise. "What's that noise?" asked Jules, working at the desk next to mine. "I don't know," I said, "it's very loud though." "That's because it's coming from your jacket pocket, Steve" pointed out Kathleen, sitting opposite me with her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. "Oops sorry," I said as I took the pager out of my pocket. I read the message 'Time for a feed' in incomprehension for half a second. The realisation crashed into my awareness. I stood up. "Sorry I have to go and feed Bekka," I said over my shoulder walking quickly to the lift. "OK, see you later, probably lunchtime, Steve, we'll be in O'Learys," said Jules to me before I opened the doors to the stairs, which seemed a quicker option to the lift as I thought of my little baby girl probably crying for her feed. I ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, my rapid movement forcing me to hold my small but sore breasts to try and reduce their mad jiggling. I passed a couple of woman walking down from the package holiday call centre. They looked at me strangely. Janis was holding Bekka, who was whimpering loudly, beginning to disturb the other three babies who were sleeping. I took my daughter into my arms and went into the small room indicated by Janis with some comfortable armchairs. Very soon my hungry baby was suckling and taking her nourishment from me. I felt happy and so connected emotionally with Bekka. We were the whole world, my helpless child depending on me completely for everything and I was meeting her very basic needs with my body. I became aware of Janis standing by the door to the room. She had a bottle in her hand and was looking at me and Bekka taking in the peaceful scene. "Now I have seen everything, you both look so relaxed there. How long have you been doing this?" she asked. "Since she was born," I replied. The sound of a baby crying interrupted our conversation. "Sorry got to feed Alex, you must explain all this to me sometime." A little later I put my changed and fed little angel back into her cot. I took some dry breast pads out of Bekka's bag and inserted them into my bra. I left Janis coping with feeding two little infants at the same time and having noticed the time I made my way across to the pub. I entered and crossed the crowded lounge bar of the Irish themed pub. Some rebel music was playing on the jukebox in the corner when I squeezed down next to Jules at the small table where they were waiting. "We haven't ordered yet, how's Bekka?" asked Kathleen. "She's great thanks," I replied. "Thanks for keeping me a place, let me get the order." By the time I had worked my way up to the bar, ordered the food and brought the drinks back to our table, through the packed throng, I was feeling very warm. I took my work jacket off and hung it over the back of my chair. I turned around and I noticed that Jules was staring at me. "What is it?" I asked. She lent forward toward me. "I can't help noticing," she whispered into my ear, "but are you wearing a bra?" Chapter 2 I was surprised at her comment. It was more than an observation, but less than an accusation. But I had little alternative but to admit to it. "Yes," I whispered back, "but please keep it between us. I have good reasons for the bra but I can't tell you here" "OK," she mouthed. Luckily Kathleen hadn't noticed our brief interchange as her food had arrived and she had been busy sorting something out with the waiter. Damn, I thought to myself, I will have to be more careful taking my jacket off in future. I took my baked potato off the waiter and tucked into it, while Jules and Kathleen ate their food. Small talk was difficult in the general hubbub of the pub, so we all concentrated on finishing our meals. Some minutes later, we were able to sit a little closer together with a good chance of hearing each other speak. "How are you finding the work, Kathleen?" I asked. "Very interesting, it's so hectic though, I'm glad to escape for a while," she replied. "Well these customers are paying so much for the holidays that we organise, they can get pretty complicated, as I'm sure you've seen so far," I commented. "Yes, you're right." "That's enough about work," interjected Jules, "tell us what you meant by your remark this morning that Mary 'has gone'" "Well it's exactly that," I replied, "she's gone to stay with her Mother in Manchester, I hope she will be back on Friday." "Hope?" asked Jules. "There is stuff going on at the moment, sorry Jules," I replied. I looked away, a little embarrassed that I couldn't reveal too many things. I noticed the clock on the wall. "Hey, we'd better get back, it's nearly the end of the lunch break," I said. We hurried out of the crowded pub and made it back to our office just before Mrs Williams, the senior manager appeared. I began working through the phone calls and emails that had accumulated during the last hour and a half. It was after six by the time I felt I had completed enough arrangements and schedules to leave work. Janis had again been intrigued while I gave Bekka her afternoon feed. but again too busy to have time to talk to me. I strapped my bundle of joy and her seat into the front seat of the car and slowly made my way up the busy streets and then arterial roads back to my little two bedroomed terrace house in Finchley. As I parked the car on the little driveway I felt tired. Work had been intellectually stimulating but physically demanding. "Sugar!" I exclaimed as I noticed the unwashed nursing bra in the washing basket of dirty clothes and the wet one still in the washing machine. I considered my options and it looked like leaking into a T- shirt was going to be the best one, although I wasn't sure how well I would sleep with my upper body slowly getting damper as the night went on. I quickly washed the dirty ones and hung the wet one up to dry. I looked through the T-shirts and was inclining towards one of Mary's as being probably a better fit, when I noticed one of her bras on the table. I took it and after a few seconds of hesitation I put it on. It was one of her Wonderbra's and it made my breasts look a lot bigger and with a significant cleavage. The ultimate irony, I thought, now that she was no longer pregnant and I was breastfeeding, I was almost as big as her in the boob department. I touched the material of one of her dresses in the wardrobe. As an intellectual exercise, I rationalised to myself, I took one of her low cut dresses and slipped it carefully over my shoulders. It was, as I anticipated, tight around the waist and loose around the butt. I put on of her wigs, put on a little dab of subtle lipstick, added one of her wigs and looked at myself in the mirror. I was astonished, I stood there with my mouth open in surprise. This lasted for a few seconds until I realised that I was the gorgeous young woman in the mirror. I took the wig off but I still looked female, but with short hair. There was a sharp knock on the front door. It woke Bekka up so I quickly picked her up in her shawl and then prepared to give whoever had knocked 'a piece of my mind'. "Waitrose Delivers, madam," was the polite and cheery grocery deliveryman who was there at the door, "an order for Mr Steve Jones?" I looked at him in puzzlement, then realisation dawned and I recovered my senses. "Ah yes, sorry he's not here," I responded trying desperately to pitch my voice a little higher than normal, although being a natural high tenor meant it wasn't too difficult to reach a contralto range. "I guess you are Mrs Jones," he said looking at the order sheet. "No problem," he continued, "Where do you want the shopping?" he asked. I showed him where to leave the dried food and cans, while I changed Bekka. He emptied the contents of the cold bags into the respective places in the fridge and freezer. Bekka began to whimper. "Thanks for bringing the shopping in," I said smiling at the deliveryman," you can leave the rest of the things there on the side. Sorry I've got to feed my baby." "That's no problem, madam," he replied, "she looks very sweet, what's her name?" "Bekka," I replied. "Nice name, have a good evening," he said as he departed. I closed the door and sat down on the comfortable rocking chair. My sweet daughter's desperate mouth found its target and she suckled eagerly. The phone rang, I reached over to it with my free right hand. I noticed the caller phone number displayed on the phone. "Hi Steve," came the voice of Mary a little hesitantly. "Hi Mary, I'm missing you. How are you feeling?" I asked. The reply was cold and unexpected. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house!?" Chapter 3 "Where is Steve? What are you doing in my house?" asked Mary. I realised that my earlier attempt at deceiving the grocery delivery man had been much too successful, I had now managed to accidentally fool my wife into thinking I was a woman. "Mary, it's me," I replied, lowering the pitch of my voice to a normal range. "Steve?" "Yes." "Who's that woman with you then?" she asked angrily. "That's me too, I was just messing around with my voice earlier." "Why?" she asked. I explained about having to wear one of her bras because the nursing bras were wet and then the dress and the makeup. "You idiot," Mary said a little caustically, "how is Bekka?" "She is here in my arms now, feeding," I responded. "Oh, how is it going?" she asked with an odd tone in her voice. I looked down at our daughter sucking greedily on my nipple. "Really well. You should have seen the face on the nursery nurse when I started breast feeding Bekka, it was a picture of surprise and........" I paused when I realised my mistake in prattling on about being able to feed Bekka, when Mary couldn't. "Oh, I'm sorry Mary, I forgot," I said apologetically. There was a pause. I waited anxiously for her response. "Listen, Steve, I'm going to hang up now and before you ask, I'm not sure when I'm coming back. Give Bekka a kiss from me, bye." She said before ending the call. "Or if you're coming back, I guess," I said into the now dead phone, before replacing it on the base station. I stroked the thin hair on Bekka's head as she continued to guzzle. Our similar intolerance to cow's milk had given Mary and I an initial shared experience at university, where we had both studied French and German. That, and a deadly sexually transmitted virus, that she had acquired from a brief sexual encounter before she met me, had lead me onto the path of estrogen/anti androgens and then induced lactation of the last eight months. But now the very success of the treatment, essential to Bekka's survival, was driving a wedge between us. Suddenly I felt Bekka's grip on my nipple slacken. I looked down to see my precious daughter fast asleep. I put her into her cot, next to the bed. I slipped off Mary's dress and too tired to search out a pair of my pyjamas from my wardrobe, grabbed one of her nightdresses and got into bed. I was asleep as my head touched the pillow. Too soon, Bekka's grizzle woke me up. It was just after 4am. "Well done, sweetheart," I said to her quietly as I picked her up, reflecting on her progress in sleeping over five hours. I quickly changed her, discarded my damp nightdress and bra and after putting on Mary's dressing gown, sat in front of the TV to give Bekka her early morning feed. As she suckled, I looked down at myself and reflected on the strangeness of my naked breasts, one of which was giving sustenance to the little girl of the house. Coupled with a pink dressing gown, very little body hair and the panties that I was wearing, I didn't see much that was male. I shook my head at such weird notions and pulled the dressing gown to cover myself better. Later on, I was making my way through the slow moving traffic to work. One of the main frustrations of driving to work was that although there would nearly always be a period when the traffic was fairly free flowing and my hopes rose about arriving at work early and having the luxury of a coffee and a chat with my fellow workers before the onslaught, it never made a difference to the length of the journey. Since every period of traffic moving well would be counter-balanced by the times when the main road metamorphosed into a huge car park. It was two minutes before the appointed time to start work by the time I was walking through the main entrance carrying Bekka in her car seat. I smiled at John, standing in the middle of the plaza, exchanged a few words of greeting and rushed on towards the lift, just squeezing into one that was about to go up. A few minutes later, after leaving Bekka in the capable hands of Janis in the nursery, I was speed reading the emails from the various people that Adventure Travel dealt with throughout Europe and beyond. Five involved phone calls later, two in French, two in German and one in English, I looked up to see Jules offering me a cup of coffee. I sipped the welcome beverage. "Thanks," I said. "You're busy this morning and you look tired Steve." she commented. "Well you know how it is when you're a, more or less, single parent and you're b............." I stopped before I revealed more than I wanted to. "And you're what?" asked Jules. "um, maybe tell you later, lunch at O'Leary's again?" I suggested. "Sure and, look, Kathleen's on a course, so maybe you can spill the beans?" "Maybe....." I was interrupted by another phone call and was soon engrossed in my work. Some hour or so later I had just clicked on send on yet another email when my nursery pager went off. Jules looked up as I stood up to go to the feed Bekka, I mouthed 'see you at O'Leary's' to her, since she was on the phone. She gave me the thumbs up sign as I left the office floor. Janis was rocking Bekka who was whimpering a little when I arrived at the nursery. I took my precious baby off her and settled down in the comfortable chair as the day before. I opened my baggy shirt and pulled the flap of my bra covering my left breast down to allow Bekka access to lunch, or was it late breakfast or brunch? Janis had a quiet few moments so she sat down opposite me. "So tell me," she asked quietly," what's the deal here with you and this breast feeding. I talked to one of my friends who works in a nursery and we couldn't work out the why and how of this" I smiled at her. "In fact," she continued, "it took me half an hour to convince her that this was not some elaborate wind-up" "OK, let me explain." I gave her a brief summary of the events leading up to me breast feeding Bekka. "HIV, that's tough, your poor wife," she said sympathetically. "Yes," I responded, "but at least the drugs are working well for her and we managed to avoid Bekka getting it too." Our conversation was interrupted by the cries of two of the other children in the nursery and in a moment Janis was a whirlwind of activity. I settled back into my peaceful bonding with Bekka. "Well that is a peaceful scene," said Mrs Susan Williams, my immediate superior and the person who had lobbied for me to use the nursery with permission to breast feed. "Hi Susan," I responded. "Well I wouldn't have believed it without seeing it, it's amazing and I'm sure Mary must be proud of your efforts. Not many men would do what you have done," Susan stated. "I think she appreciates it," I responded. "Anyway I can't stop for long but I wanted to give you some news and made an offer to you." "Oh really?" "I've just come back from a meeting of the Senior Management Team and I must say that we are impressed with what you have achieved in being back only a day and half. You seemed to have solved some logistic problems that had been plaguing us for weeks just with a few phone calls and emails." "Just doing my best, Susan." "You are too modest Steve. But listen, here's the offer, we want to think about it for a day or so. We are thinking of setting up a new department to deal with clients who want a more personal service and are prepared to pay appropriately for it. We are talking about organising exclusive holidays staring at a minimum of one hundred thousand pounds," she stated. "Wow, some big spenders," I responded. "Yes and we want you to lead this section with maybe one or two assistants, think about it Steve, OK?" she requested, before gently stroking Bekka's head and leaving me to contemplate a very lucrative job offer. O'Leary's was as crowded as usual when I eventually arrived a while later. I made my way to a corner table that Jules had managed to commandeer. "Thanks," I said at the sight of the spicy chickpea wrap and orange juice that she had ordered for me, "how much do I owe you?" "It's on the house," she replied, "a down payment for you revealing all" I chuckled. "OK, Inspector Clouseau, I will confess all," I responded. "I don't want your confession, just the juicy details of your crimes," she stated in a mock serious tone. "I'll come quietly," I responded. "Come on," she said laughing," just tell me what the story is with you and the you know what." "OK," I said before giving her a similar story to the one I had given Janis earlier. Jules's response was rather more marked since she knew Mary a little, we had occasionally associated as a foursome with her and whatever partner she was with. She made sympathetic noises when I told her about my wife's illness. When I got onto the breast feeding she stopped eating and stared at me open mouthed as I explained the how, why and wherefores. "This I must see," she stated firmly after I had finished my explanation, "when will you be feeding Bekka again?" "Sometime mid-afternoon, about three hours from now." "OK, I'll try and organise my phone calls to avoid that period, this should be an interesting experience." I looked at my watch and realised that it was time to return. As we walked briskly back to our office I told Jules about the job offer and asked her if she would be interested in being one of my assistants. We reached the main entrance but before I could get a response John had hailed me. "Mr Jones, excuse me sir but this gentleman has something for you," he said referring to a young man in a post office courier uniform who was holding a mountain bike in one hand and a small package in the other. Jules continued onto the lift while I signed for the package. I looked at it as the lift made its rapid ascent. "What is it?" Jules asked. "It's a same day delivery letter, that is ruinously expensive," I responded. "Who's it from?" she asked. "I don't know, there is no return address on the back, although the writing looks familiar" I looked at the post mark, I made out 'Manchester'. I felt my pulse quicken. The lift reached our floor, I stepped out and stood in the corridor and opened the package. Inside was a sheet of paper and a ring. A wedding ring. Mary's wedding ring. I opened the folded sheet of paper and started reading. 'Dear Steve I'm sorry, I can't go on like this. Being with you has felt more and more like being with another woman and after yesterday on the phone..............' I couldn't read the rest. I dropped the package on the floor and banged my fist on the wall, jolting my breasts violently and painfully at the same time. "Noooooooooooooooooo" Chapter 4 I sat in the small staff lounge, I was grateful that there was no-one else there. I didn't remember how I had got there, just some vague idea of Jules taking my arm as I wept and leading my along the corridor. I picked up the package and took out the letter, I steeled myself to read the difficult first sentences again. 'Dear Steve I'm sorry, I can't go on like this. Being with you has felt more and more like being with another woman and after yesterday on the phone when you told me about wearing my clothes I knew that you were no longer the man I married. Please forgive me if you can. You have been the most wonderful husband and the sacrifices you made for Bekka were something you should have not had to make. I blame myself for the whole situation. I got drunk one night and I will pay for it for the rest of my life. Every time I see you feeding Bekka it reminds of what I can't do and what I shouldn't have done in the first place. You are better off without me in your life. I don't know how long I will be relatively healthy either so how can I commit to look after our child. You can have the house and custody. I'm going to try and make the best of what I have left. I am so sorry, please forgive me. Mary' Jules came out from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. "Can I see," she said, "well only if you think it's appropriate." I handed her the letter, she sat down and read in silence. She placed the latter down on the table and sat back with her coffee. I picked up the letter and put it in the package. There was silence between us for a few minutes. "Mary seems very confused and in distress, Steve," Jules said, speaking as if she was choosing her words carefully. "I don't know what to think," I replied, "she has been down ever since the birth. Last week she said that she needed to get away to think things through. I hoped that she would be back" "I'm sorry, Steve, I don't know what to say. Maybe she will change her mind. What was the thing about her clothes?" I explained about the dress, the delivery driver and Mary not recognising my voice on the phone. Jules smiled briefly. "It all sounds pretty harmless but it seems to have provoked a severe over reaction in Mary." Our discussion was cut short by my pager calling me to feed my daughter. "I've got to feed Bekka now, Jules," I said picking up my package with the letter and the ring. "Can I come?" I nodded my head. We walked quickly, in silence, towards the nursery. Janis looked harassed as she held Bekka in her arms while feeding another of her charges in his chair. I briefly introduced Jules to her and then took Bekka to feed her in the comfortable chair in the back room. As Bekka suckled my deep depression lifted a little. At least I had someone who needed and depended on me, even if my wife had decided that she no longer had a place for me in her life. "You both look so peaceful there," said Jules after a little while. I smiled and gently stroked Bekka's head. "It's such a beautiful experience to be able to supply Bekka's needs from my own body," I replied, "I'm lucky in another way too" "What way are you lucky?" Jules asked. "Not many women who induce lactation have enough milk for their babies, they usually need supplementary feeding," I replied. "Yes I can see that you are larger than me in the boob department," Jules commented. "Thanks to my Mum and my sister's DD's, I guess," I said, smiling a little. "Yes, I guess it must be genetic," Jules said. There was quiet between us for a little while. "Jules, are you busy after work?" I asked. "No, why?" she replied. "I wondered whether you would be able to spend some time at my place, maybe have tea? I don't want to go home to an empty house," I said. "Listen," she replied, "why don't I go and see Susan and ask if we can have the rest of the afternoon off and I'll take you home." "Are you sure?" I asked, "oh what about my car?" "I'd like to help you know. You can leave your car in the staff garage, it'll be secure there overnight." Jules stated. "Yes that's a good idea, it's probably safer than outside my house. But what about work....?" "I could give you a lift?" "It's a bit out of your way, Jules." "It'll be OK for one day and anyway an excuse to get up a bit earlier for once." "Thanks Jules." She left me with my daughter and went to look for Mrs Williams our line manager. Almost an hour later Jules had fought her way through the mid-afternoon traffic and we had reached the haven of my street. The afternoon went quickly as I tidied and cleaned a little while Jules amused Bekka with some nice noisy toys. "It is an amazing thing to see you feeding Bekka," Jules said as I was giving Bekka her evening feed while Jules prepared an omelet and salad for the two of us. "It's only what any loving parent would do if they had to, Jules," I responded. "I don't know any other man I have ever met who would have done what you are doing Steve," she said. "You know what, Jules, I never even considered what other men would do when I agreed to take the hormones, it just seemed that I had no choice but to ensure that my daughter had the best start in the world." After we had eaten our meal and I had tidied up, Jules indicated that she need to get back to her own place, which was another half an hour's drive to the North East of the city. "Before I go though, I am a bit curious about what you might say was , 'what the butler saw', or in your case, 'what the delivery driver saw'" "What do you mean?" I asked before the penny dropped and I laughed, "you want to see me in Mary's dress?" "Just for fun, only if you feel up to it after earlier on," she responded. "I'm not sure," I said and then after a couple of seconds, "well it might be useful, you can give me an objective viewpoint after what Mary said about it feeling like being with another woman" I went to our bedroom and changed into the push up bra, low cut dress and wig from the previous day. On an impulse I added some lipstick and went back to the kitchen where Jules was sitting with her back to me reading a magazine. "Well? What do you think?" I asked. Jules turned in her chair. She did a double take and put her hand to her mouth, obviously surprised. "Am I that ugly?" I asked. "No Steve, not at all, in fact you make a very attractive woman." Chapter 5 I lay on my side in the bed, the sound of Bekka's quiet breathing in her cot next to the bed was a reassuring sound. I looked at the clock again. It read one minute later than the last time I had looked at it, five fifteen. Another half an hour before I needed to wake Bekka for her feed. I had hardly slept between her late evening and her night feeds at about two. I looked at the wedding day picture of myself and Mary, three years ago, a beautiful Spring morning. It had been such a wonderful day, everything had gone like clockwork. Forty odd friends and family at Haringey registry office. Honeymoon after in Prague and Vienna. Two cities steeped in culture and history. Bekka made a whimper. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the bathroom. I took off the cotton nightdress, which I had gone to bed in to save on wearing and having to wash one of my few nursing bras. I placed it in the dirty washing basket and then stood and relieved myself, not thinking too much about the incongruity of the action. I put on Mary's dressing gown and picked up my now alert little miracle and placed her to my breast. I stood there for a little while as she fed, an innocent little soul. I sat down and reflected on the previous day. Two hours later one single beep of the horn, from the street outside, announced the arrival of my lift for the morning. I grabbed Bekka in her car seat and her bag and made my way quickly outside. "Hi Jules, thanks for this," I said as I got into the car. "How did you sleep?" she asked. "Very badly," I replied. "You still love her don't you?" she asked. "Of course, I do, I want her to come back and Bekka needs her to come back. After this breast feeding is over there's no reason why we can't have more normal roles," I replied. "Maybe you should try and meet her," she commented. "How could I do that, Manchester is 5 hours away, I'd have to stop to feed Bekka on the way, what would people think, how could a man go into one of the special nursing rooms?" I asked. "Yes I can see that would be a problem," she responded. There was silence between us for the rest of the journey, I was too tired to make conversation and I sensed that Jules was a bit uncertain about the whole situation. The needs of navigating through the labyrinthine traffic chaos took her concentration while I dozed a little. We reached our workplace in time and Jules went up to the office while I dropped Bekka in the nursery. The rest of the morning went on autopilot. I managed to get through the initial flurry of phone calls and emails in time to give Bekka her brunch. Kathleen was back and so the three of us had lunch while she told us about her course. Both Jules and myself were glad of the distraction I thought. Susan, my line manager, popped into see my while I was feeding Bekka in the afternoon. She asked how I was, I just replied noncommittally. "Anything I can do to help, you know where I am," she said as she was about to depart. "Thanks Susan," I said before returning to feed my precious little one. I made it back home, through the rush hour, it was raining, by the time I pulled up on the little drive of the house. The miserable weather suited my feelings. I checked the post, nothing personal, there were no phone messages. I took Bekka out of her car seat and carefully bathed her. She made happy noises as the warm water washed over her. I wrapped her in a towel and rocked her for a little, she stared at me and there seemed to be the trace of a smile on her face. I knew it was too early for that but it was nice to see. She was suckling greedily into me as I sat back in the armchair. I flicked on the TV, after a few minutes channel hopping I turned the TV off and turned on the music centre. The stirring music of Holst's planet suite surrounded me. I picked up my mobile and clicked speed dial one for Mary's mobile. The phone rang for a little and then the standard voice mail message cut in. "The person you are calling is not available please leave a message." "Mary please phone back you can't just give up now," I spoke into the phone, about the fifth similar message I had left during the day. I fell asleep on the bed after putting Bekka down after her evening feed. Her cries woke me at ten, I fed her, took my clothes off, put on another nightdress and fell back to sleep again. After having had some sleep the night before, I was slightly less tired when I started work the next day, Friday, the last day of the week. Which was a good things as there were more problems to solve and to anticipate with all the company's overseas clients in anticipation of the weekend. I had finished my list of phone calls when Jules came over when with a coffee. "Thanks," I said. "You know I may have an idea about how to get to Manchester," she said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Can I come round after work and discuss it with you?" she responded. "Sure I was thinking of cook Lasagna, do you like that, it would be nice to share," I said. "Yes I love Lasagna, that sounds good," she responded. The rest of the day followed the previous one although my curiosity about what Jules might have in mind meant that I was looking forward to the evening. "So what is this idea of yours?" I asked as we eating our meal with a glass of Chardonnay, in my kitchen later on after I had bathed and fed Bekka. She paused and then looked at me. "Listen don't take this the wrong way but seeing you in Mary's clothes the other day has suggested something to me," Jules replied. "I hope you are not going to suggest what I think you're going to," I responded. She smiled. "It would work though, you could easily look like a woman and no-one would think anything of a woman breastfeeding her baby in the nursing room," she said looking at me encouragingly. "I am very sceptical about this, it's one thing to put on a dress in the house but to act as a woman outside with people watching, they would all know," I commented, very unsure about trying such a thing. "Why don't I try and sort an outfit that would look good and be easy to carry off," she said. "OK, but don't expect this idea to work," I responded. We changed the subject and she entertained me for a while talking about the failings of her last boyfriend. Jules handed me a push up bra a long, casual skirt and top and a v- necked cardigan, from Mary's closet, as we stood in my bedroom. I took my clothes off, forgetting, in the familiarity of my bedroom, that I had an audience and was soon standing there, bare breasted, in my boxers. I became aware that Jules was staring at me there. "You'll need panties under the skirt to hold you in a bit," she said. She handed me a pair, without thinking I took my boxers off and then noticed she was staring at my flaccid penis, I put my hand over it in embarrassment. "Sorry I am so used to stripping in front of Mary in this room," I said apologetically. "Can I see it?" she asked. I took my hands off my dick. "Can you still get an erection, you know after taking the hormones?" she asked. "Not easily," I replied, "it usually takes a while and I have to play with my boobs too" "Like this?" she said, as she touched my nipple with her finger and slowly traced my areola. I felt an electric charge go through me, Mary had refused to touch me there and we had not had sex since some months before she gave birth, so it was a new experience to be caressed on my own breast. "What about this," said Jules as she touched my penis and it responded She moved closer and her lips met mine, I kissed her back. Bekka whimpered. I gently pushed Jules away. "I'm sorry Jules, this is wrong. You are turning me on but it's not something I want at the moment." "Sorry, Steve, I got a little carried away, let's carry on with the experiment." I quickly put the clothes on and then the wig. "Let's try this lipstick and this foundation, just a small amount, over where you have a few stubble marks on your chin." She busied herself for a few minutes and then pronounced things to be satisfactory. "Have a look." I looked in the mirror, it was very impressed with Jules's handiwork. "Well it looks very good, if I didn't know I would think I was a girl," I said laughing a little. "It's all about accentuating the positive and covering up the negative," she responded, smiling. "Anyway it doesn't mean that this will work in public," I stated. "Well there is only one way to find out," she said. "What is that?" I asked. "Let's go for a drink." Chapter 6 The green sign on the side of the road came into view NEXT SERVICES 10 MILES CORLEY SERVICES WELCOME BREAK I turned up the air conditioning so that a stronger blast of cool air hit my face. The monotony of motorway driving coupled with weeks of broken sleep was making me feel a little bit drowsy. My phone rang. I touched the ear piece, of my hands free phone kit, to receive the call. "Hello." "Hi Steve, it's Jules, where are you?" "Just got onto the M6, done about......just over a hundred miles so far, about half way there," I responded. "Heard anything from Mary?" Jules asked. "No, there's no response from my text messages or phone messages," I replied. "Oh, OK, well I hope she is OK. How is everything else?" she asked. "What do you mean?" I asked "You know, the clothes and stuff," she said referring to the female outfit she had persuaded me to wear. "It's totally weird, I hope I don't get found out" I responded. "You'll be fine, it worked great in the pub yesterday," Jules reassured. "Yes but you were there with me so I didn't have to say much, sorry Jules got to go now I've just turned off for the services to feed Bekka." "OK, good luck, bye." "Bye" I responded and then pressed the earpiece to disconnect. I pulled into the service station car park. It was busy, which was not surprising since the weather was clear and warm, unusually warm for early April, the weekend before Easter and plenty of families seemed keen to start their holidays early. I unstrapped Bekka's car seat, she opened her eyes at the movement, her gaze wandered for a second and then she noticed me. I smiled back at my little one. "Soon be lunch time sweetie," I whispered to her. I picked up her seat and her bag and, after locking the car doors, I walked towards the main concourse of the restaurants and other facilities. I was very aware of the unfamiliar swish of my skirt and the breeze rippling my loose blouse, as I made my way towards the hundreds of people in the centre. Every step I took, even while I was trying to look confident, I was expecting to be exposed as the fraud that I felt I was. I followed a group through the automatic doors and stood looking around to find the facilities that I needed. Standing there it all felt so overwhelming that I wanted so much to escape back to the car and somewhere to hide. Bekka's whimper reminded me that I had no choice but to carry on. I had been over a minute standing in the concourse, feeling bewildered and unable to decipher the directions to the various parts of the service station when I heard a cough behind me. I turned in the direction of the sound. "Excuse me Miss, but are you OK?" asked the elderly service station security guard. "Um, no," I replied, trying to pitch my voice correctly," I'm looking for the nursing room." My main reason for stopping at these services were the provision of a special room for breast feeding. "It's over there," the security guard responded pointing at a small door situated between two shop units. "Thank you very much," I said to the guard before making my way over to my haven. I paused for half a second to read the sign on the door. Nursing Room WOMEN ONLY! Another whimper from Bekka removed any last minute hesitation and I opened the door. I made my way over to one of the two changing mats and quickly changed Bekka's nappies, I then sat down on one of the four comfortable leather armchairs and put her to my breast. As she suckled hungrily I looked around the room. It was quite a bright room with natural lighting from the skylight, complementing the subdued artificial lights. Apart from the four armchairs and the changing table there was also a TV, which was showing one of the many soap operas I didn't watch on TV. The best thing about the room was that there was no-one there at that moment. I hoped that I could get away without having to meet anyone. I took my phone out of my bag. There were no messages from Mary. I sent her another. Am on way to Man, be there 3 hrs I pressed send and put my phone away. "I'm sure she'll want to see you, Bekka," I whispered quietly as I stroked the wisps of hair on her head. My peace was shattered as the door opened and a thirtyish woman with a baby in her arm and a small girl in her hand walked into the room. "I want to pee pee Mummy," said the girl. "It's OK Jenny, I'll find you one, after I've changed Julian," replied the harassed mother. At that moment baby Julian decided that he needed more, immediate attention and began a series of ear splitting, mind numbing screams. "Want to pee pee Mummy," said little Jenny, making her contribution to send her Mum's stress levels past Superwoman limits. "OK, JENNY, ONE MINUTE," she said firmly while trying to wrestle with baby Julian, who had now added another of his talents to his vocal performance, the complete body wriggle. "Need to pee pee NOW!" Jenny's mother looked at her daughter with total exasperation, as she entered the second round of her WWF match with baby Julian. "Excuse me, there's a toilet on your left that your little girl could use," I said, trying to help restore sanity to the atmosphere. The Mother turned to me and smiled her gratitude. "Jenny, the toilet is over there," she said to her desperate daughter. She finished changing her child and then sat down in the armchair next to mine. Soon peace and tranquility was transformed as baby Julian's attention was taken by filling his belly from his Mum's breast. "Your baby is lovely dear is it a boy or a girl?" asked my companion in the room after a few minutes. "It's a girl" I responded as briefly as possible, hoping that there would be no more conversation. Jenny returned from the loo and wanted some refreshments from her Mum who quickly palmed her off with a banana and some apple juice and directed her towards the play area in the corner of the room. Little Jenny busied herself with the dolls house. "I'm Vivian, everyone calls me Viv though," stated my companion after a few more minutes. "I'm Stev.............Stevie," I responded, correcting myself just in time. "Stevie?" Vivian inquired," that's an unusual name." "Yes it's short for.......Stephanie," I responded after desperately trying to think of something appropriate. "Is it your first?" Vivian asked. "Yes, what about you?" I asked, "do you have more than two?" "Oh no," Vivian replied, laughing, "as you can see these two are more than enough" "Are you planning to have any more?" she asked. I was beginning to feel that I was being cross examined. "Don't really know, I guess it depends" I responded while thinking that if Mary and myself did possibly have more children I would have to carry on breast feeding for years maybe. Vivian seemed to home in on my uncertainty. "Is your husband, or boyfriend with you today?" she probed. "Umm, no," I responded after a pause. "Oh, I'm sorry to be nosey." "It's OK, that's why I'm going North, we had a bit of a breakup," I responded, hoping that Bekka would have had enough nourishment soon. As in answer to my thoughts Bekka released my nipple, full for the moment. I quickly rearranged my clothes and grabbed my stuff. "Bye dear," said Vivian, "good luck." "Thanks," I responded, "bye." Outside the room I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I made slower progress than I had hoped for the rest of the journey North and I was almost an hour later than I had hoped when I turned off the M60 onto the A34 towards Didsbury in Manchester. I had planned to stop at the nearby Travelodge, where I had booked a room, to change clothes. However with only a few minutes before the time I had said I would arrive and needing soon to feed Bekka I made straight for my stepmother's house. I pulled up in a space a little way away from their three bed-roomed semi and made my way towards what I hoped was not going to be embarrassment. I knocked the door and waited in trepidation. Andrea James, Mary's mother, was a well dressed, plumpish woman in her later fifties. She stood in the door, looking at me without showing any signs of recognition. "Hello, can I help you?" she asked in a condescending tone clearly mistaking me for someone who wanted something off her. "Hi Andrea, is Mary here?" I asked. "Why do you want, who are you? Steve? Is it you?" "Yes, and your grandchild. Can I come in, she'll need a feed soon." "Of course, but what's with looking like a woman?" I sat down in her kitchen while she made me a cup of coffee. I gave her a brief resume of the day's events. She laughed at my description of the nursing room. "You have had an adventure today, yes I can see why you are dressed as you are. But why didn't you phone me to say you were coming?" "I phoned Mary and sent her text messages, but she didn't reply," I replied. "Oh I see." "Is she here? Can I see her?" I asked. "Here?" said Andrea looking at me in some surprise. "She is staying here isn't she?" Tears started welling up in Mary's mother's eyes. "You don't know, do you?" she asked quietly. "Know what?" I replied feeling a strong sense of foreboding. "She's in hospital, her HIV has become resistant to her drug regime, she's got full blown AIDS!" Andrea stated. Chapter 7 Bekka suckled greedily on my nipple, the feeling of closeness to my precious daughter was some small comfort after the terrible news about Mary. I stroked her head gently. Andrea sat opposite me at the kitchen table, lost in her thoughts. The noise of Bekka feeding and the tick of the kitchen clock were the only sounds to disturb the silence. Mary's Mother turned her gaze towards me. "It is so strange to see you feeding my granddaughter, Steve. Mary told me what you were doing but it is another thing to see it," she said. I didn't know what to say so I carried on feeding Bekka in silence. After a few minutes, Andrea got out of her chair and picked up our coffee cups to wash in the sink. "I don't understand," I said quietly. "What don't you understand," Andrea asked. "What I don't understand is how she has deteriorated so quickly, she seemed OK the last week when she came to stay with you," I replied. "Didn't she tell you she had some test results?" Andrea asked, coming back to sit opposite me at the table after drying the cups. "What results?" I asked. "She went for her monthly check up before she came here, didn't you know that?" she inquired. "Yes, of course and she said that everything was fine," I replied. "Didn't you wonder why she wanted to come and see me the next day?" "A little, but Mary said she wanted to get away for a few days, she didn't seem any different, she has been down since she gave birth." Andrea paused for a few moments and then looking at me spoke again. "That's when she first knew about her treatment failing and also the suspected cancers." "Cancers!?", I responded abruptly, startled at the mention of the C word, Bekka was jolted off my nipple. She continued to suck for a few moments and then started to whimper. I put her carefully back to my breast. "What do you mean by cancers?" I asked my Mother-in-law. Andrea carefully told me everything she know about the results of my wife's tests. The cancer that had originated in her ovary was spreading rapidly because of the inability of her body's defences, compromised by AIDS, to fight it. After she had finished telling me this we sat quietly while I finished feeding Bekka. My head was spinning as I tried to digest the terrible news that Andrea had given me. After all my expectation and hope of seeing Mary again and hoping for us to be reconciled, these developments were very hard to take. Bekka finished feeding, I adjusted my bra and my dress and sat with my daughter in my arms, slowly rocking her to sleep. "How long?" I asked, quietly. "How long?" responded Andrea, not understanding my question. "How long will Mary survive?" I asked. "Oh, the prognosis. Um, it's not good at all, maybe a few weeks, although if they could find a new combination of drugs for her AIDS then there would be more hope," Andrea explained. "Are her doctors trying new drugs?" I asked. "They would if she'd let them." "What do you mean, if she would let them?" I asked, surprised at Andrea's comment. "She won't give permission, she doesn't want to try, says that the side effects are unpleasant and that she is sick of having to take so many drugs" "Please can we go and see her?" I asked, "maybe I can persuade her not to give up. When's visiting time?" Andrea looked at the clock in the kitchen. "Oh, it's later than I thought, we need to get there in half an hour. OK, if we go now, we should make it, there's one problem though," Andrea said, looking strangely at me. "What's that?" I asked. "There's no time for you to change, could be a bit tricky," she replied and then paused, obviously trying to think of a solution to the problem of Mary's husband turning up looking like a woman. She smiled and then continued," I know we'll say you're Mary's sister, what can we call you?" "What about Stevie, you know, short for Stephanie," I replied, explaining about the woman in the service station. "Sounds fine." Almost forty minutes later we were stepping into the lift near the entrance of Manchester Royal Infirmary. The journey had taken longer than usual because of the traffic coming from the Manchester football derby. Andrea pressed the button for the fourth floor where the Critical Care ward was situated. We walked into the quiet, ward where a few patients were connected to machines that bleeped and pinged quietly in an almost musical harmony. The ward sister took us over to a room in an annexe of the ward. She explained to me and reminded Andrea that only one visitor at a time was permitted and that anyone entering the room would have to wear clinical overalls, masks and gloves to reduce exposing Mary to any possible infections. Andrea went in first, while I sat outside with Bekka in my arms, she slept quietly. Some fifteen minutes later, Andrea came out, there were tears in her eyes. "She'll see you now," she said. I handed Bekka to her, tied my mask on and was about to open the door when she put her hand on my arm. "Try not to appear shocked by her appearance, she has gone down a long way since you saw her last" I entered the room. It was light and airy. In the corner, next to the window I saw what looked like a wizened old woman lying in a bed with machines attached to her. I walked over. "Hello Mary," I said, uncertain of her response. "Steve?" she replied, raising her eyes at my appearance. "Yes." "Why are you dressed like that? In my dress and wearing makeup?" she asked. I sat down and held her hand and explained about feeding Bekka on the motorway. She laughed weakly when I told her about the children from hell in the motorway service station. "Thanks for coming, I am so sorry about the letter I sent you and the wedding ring," she said," I couldn't think what to do, I wanted you to be angry and not come and see me." "Why?" "I have caused so many problems for you, I know I can't help either you or Bekka now, I wanted to be gone from your lives," she said. Tears began welling up in her eyes. "Mary, I need, you, I love you, why do you want to die?" I asked tearfully. "Look at me Steve, how can I do anything now....." she said and then she coughed with the effort of speaking. "You can fight this Mary. Let them try and find a new drug combination for the AIDS" "Please Steve, I can't fight any more, it's too hard," she started crying and then had another a fit of coughing. The nurse, who had been checking Mary's vitals, came over. "I'm sorry Miss I think your sister needs a rest now." "I took one last look at Mary before leaving the room." I took Bekka from Andrea and held her close to me, my treasured gift from Mary, we walked along the corridors in silence, the tears were flowing freely down our cheeks. As we got in the car she looked at me strangely and said, "Well this is something that I never thought I would have to say to my son in law, but I think you'd better repair your make up, your mascara has run." Chapter 8 I laid Bekka down gently in the travel cot. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as, after a little whimper, she resumed her peaceful sleep. I was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, after the journey and the revelations about Mary that I just wanted to lie on the bed and crash out, without bothering to change my clothes. I forced myself to take off my dress, my tights, my bra and pants. I looked around for my suitcase for my PJ's. There was no sign of my suitcase. Strange thoughts of someone having broken into the house while we were at the hospital to steal my stuff came to mind. A sudden cold breeze rushed through the window, flickering the thin curtains and touching me with a chilling caress. I felt goose bumps forming on my skin and my nipples begin to harden. Where was my suitcase? I looked under the bed, without any success and then my exhausted, barely functioning brain remembered. It was still downstairs in the living room. I hadn't brought it up with the travel cot. I considered my options. I didn't want to put my dirty clothes back on. I didn't want to walk round the house naked. I looked around the room for something suitable to wear. I spotted a small pile of clean clothes on a chair next to the wardrobe in the room. I carefully looked through them and near the bottom found a blue nightdress with a bodice that looked like it would give me some support. I pulled it over my head and, after adjusting it a little, found it a mostly comfortable, if slightly tight, fit. I quickly took out some clean nursing pads from my bag, inserted them in the appropriate places and finally got into bed. Sleep came within seconds. What seemed like seconds later, but according to the clock was nearly fours hours, my precious daughter was practising her human alarm clock routine. To avoid her cries waking Andrea I sleepily rolled out of bed and picked her up. I stuffed my finger in her mouth to suck while I worked out how to free the source of my hungry child's midnight snack from the bodice of my nightdress. After a few seconds of contortions I realised that the only answer was to push everything down to completely expose my upper body. The only good thing about sitting up in bed, bare breasted, at around 2am, was that the cool night air coming in through the window stopped me falling asleep again. It was very much an auto feed. I was glad when Bekka had had enough and went back to sleep. My return to the arms of Morpheus took seconds again. I felt the warm sun on my face. I opened an eye. The morning sunlight was pouring through a narrow gap in the curtains and illuminating my face. I had a strange feeling of confusion about the room that I was in. It looked so unfamiliar. Where were my familiar posters on the wall. The walls were such a different colour. Where was I? "Waaaaaaaaa.......waaaaaa," the voice of Bekka waking and wanting my attention pulled me back into the reality of where I was. At the same time I became aware of a wetness on the front of my body. I jumped out of bed, quickly stripped off my wet nightdress. I picked up my daughter, quickly changed her, and then sat back in bed, putting her to my naked breast. I felt much more comfortable with the central heating having warmed up the bedroom nicely. I pressed the radio button on the clock radio in the room. The station 'ident' was just being repeated. "This is Classic FM, and time for some early morning Mozart, the Vienna Symphony Orchestra with the overture to the Marriage of Figaro," said the relaxed announcer. "Great", I said to myself, "Mary's favourite too, I hope you like it sweetie," I continued as I stroked Bekka's head gently. "and they say it'll make you a genius," I whispered to my daughter, as she suckled, thinking about the disputed Mozart effect on intellectual development*. "Mary! You're home, it's a miracle that you have...." came a voice that was fairly familiar, as the door to my bedroom was opened wide. In the door frame stood the smartly suited figure of George James, Mary's father. He had stopped in mid sentence and was staring at me, first my face and then my naked breasts and then back to my face. My face flushed with my embarrassment and I reacted without thinking and covered my breasts with my free arm. "Oh you're not Mary, I'm so sorry I thought you were my daughter, that is one of her favourite pieces of music, she's very ill you know, sorry to disturb you feeding your baby, are you one of Mary's friends?" he asked while averting his eyes from my upper body. "Don't you recognise me?" I asked. "No," he replied. "Don't you know your son-in-law?" I asked. "But you're a woman, I just saw your, well you know," he stated. "It is me George, didn't anyone tell you about me having to feed Bekka?" I asked. "Oh yes I can see now, of course, I'm sorry Steve, I'm not sure I took it all in when Andrea told me. This is all a bit confusing," he rambled. "Why don't you make a pot of tea, and I'll come down and explain everything when I've finished feeding Bekka," I suggested. George was grateful for the excuse to leave, "Yes that's a good idea, to tell you the truth I'm a bit parched myself. Only got in from Berlin an hour ago." he said before leaving me in peace to complete my morning baby bonding. Some fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the kitchen table opposite George, drinking a refreshing cuppa. I had found a skimpy, fairly translucent, dressing gown to wear and a pair of panties to hold in something else that dangled. Having a somewhat fuller bust than my wife, due to the breast feeding, I was aware that my female curves were enhanced by my attire. I enjoyed the obvious discomfort that George obviously felt in my presence as I explained the details of my having to feed Bekka. "Yes I can understand the why and how but I still don't get why you look so female" he commented. "It's amazing how clothes, hairstyles and makeup can alter completely how someone is perceived," I re