My Wonderful Obsession - Part 50 free porn video

My Wonderful Obsession Part 50: Secrets Are Revealed Remember that old saying about spring turning a young man's thoughts to love? Well, I wasn't getting very much from Mark that April - despite what he'd said about his attraction to me. And he probably wasn't feeling the love from me either - I was still in the grip of all those feelings of guilt and remorse for the part I played in making his wife's life miserable. Not to mention the fact that she was still haunting my dreams (or would that be nightmares?). Following Pam's death, our weekend rendezvouses were truly a thing of the past. And I missed them. I missed the closeness and intimacy we'd enjoyed. But I guess with Pam gone, it wasn't the same for him, or me - I mean, what was there to escape into each other's arms from? So I tried to substitute some quality girl-time for my lack of guy- time, connecting more with Kath, Julia and Annalise, my best and fave girlfriends. I even got all four of us together one weekend for dinner and a movie, and everyone hit it off with my co-worker well enough that she got invited to Kath's twenty-first birthday party. That event was celebrated at Kath's home, and her mom and dad decorated the living room and dining room and prepared a really nice dinner with hors d'oeuvres and baked salmon for the main course (my friend's favorite!). (Naturally I had to pre-warn everyone that Annalise wasn't in on my little secret.) After opening cards and gifts, us four girls went downstairs and had a blast playing board games and dusting off the old Karaoke machine to belt out some seriously cheesy songs. Now I don't mean to say Mark and I didn't communicate. We did email and chat on the phone every so often. But the magic, that spark, seemed to be absent. I wondered if we just needed some time, like Erica had suggested. But I recalled that she'd also suggested I do the reaching out, and eventually I worked up the courage to do that. So the two of us got together again at the same little bistro and found a table in the corner where we could talk more privately this time. "I'm really sorry, Sandy," Mark led off after we'd ordered and I'd asked him why he thought we weren't as close as before. "I'm just trying to muddle along as best I can. It's a lot harder than I thought to juggle work and the house and the kids ..." "Who's looking after them during the day?" "I've hired a sitter. She's an older lady. But I still have a lot to do in the evenings." "Oh Mark, I'd love to help," I said earnestly. "Like, I could do your laundry for you, or cook, or clean the house ..." He shook his head. "No, Sandy - it's best if you don't come to the house. I don't want people to get the wrong idea." "I see." I didn't, really. I could always borrow one of Mom's maid outfits to allay suspicion, I thought. But he seemed adamant. "But I would like to start seeing you again," he offered. "Maybe we could plan something. I could get my folks to take the kids for a night, and we could take a trip out of town ..." What? Maybe it was just those hormones again, but I felt deeply offended. "Mark, listen to what you're saying! You don't want me to show my face, but it's okay to sneak around behind everyone's backs with me? What's going on - is there someone else? Are you ashamed of me?" He shook his head. "No, there's no one else Sandy. I'm not ashamed of you." "Well it sure doesn't feel that way. It feels like all you want me for is sex, and I'm still your mistress, and that's how you want me to stay. Well I'm not interested in that kind of relationship. You can go find some other girly guy in a dress - it won't be me." I actually surprised myself at what came out of my mouth and how assertive I was! And Mark must have been too, because he sat back in his chair with his mouth half open. But the hurt of what he said had taken its toll and tears began to well up in my eyes. "I'm sorry," Mark pleaded. "I didn't mean that - really. It's just that ... right now I don't have anything else to offer. It's just not the right time ..." "I'm sorry too," I said as I began to gather up my things. "You might think it's a nice offer, Mark, and maybe it IS a nice offer for a girl like me, but ... but I want the whole thing, the whole fairy tale. Goodbye, Mark." And with that I strode out of the restaurant, tears streaming freely down my face, trying to ignore the stares of other diners. I distinctly heard a woman's voice say, "You go, girl!" When I got to my car I plopped into the seat, locked the doors, grabbed my box of Kleenex and just cried my eyes out. I half expected Mark to appear at my window and plead with me for a second chance, but he didn't. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks - Mark and I had just replayed that unforgettable parting scene from 'Pretty Woman,' where Vivian lays it on the line and gives Edward up rather than remaining his 'beck-and-call girl' - same as I just did with Mark! ***** Now I could see - sort of - why Edward might be reluctant to marry Vivian. After all, he was this bigwig business tycoon, a professional corporate takeover kind of guy with a reputation to consider, and she was ... well, let's just say she had her OWN profession. Not the best match, at any rate! And they still managed to come together in the end, because they had so much in common, and they loved each other! But Mark wasn't way up there atop the business ladder, and though I wasn't either, I was certainly not anywhere near the bottom. I was a perfectly (or at least mostly) respectable young woman in a perfectly respectable career in a law office. And I thought we had a lot in common and loved each other, too. So what was the problem? It was truly baffling for me. Naturally, I began second-guessing myself - like, maybe I shouldn't have taken such offence at his 'offer.' Maybe it really WAS the best a girl like me could ask for. At least I'd have him once in a while, and maybe if I played my cards right it could turn into something more, maybe even the 'fairy tale.' But second-guessing can work the other way, too: the situation reminded me so much of our previous breakup. Maybe Mark and I really weren't meant to be together. If all we could ever expect was a few months of bliss followed by a downward spiral into quarreling and conflict, what was the point of trying? Or even hoping? ***** It certainly seemed like the latter - Mark and I didn't communicate at all after that little altercation. My close friend and mentor Erica advised that I just play the waiting game and not be the first to reach out this time, like I'd done twice before. "The ball's in his court," she stated with a shrug. "Give him some time and space and see what happens." That was so hard to do for me, and I was pretty miserable about it, but I did follow her advice - for a time. Then one day in mid-May I got a phone call from Mark's mother inviting me over for coffee on a Sunday afternoon. I actually hesitated before saying yes - like, would it alienate Mark even more if he felt I was going behind his back to stay connected with his family? But I decided that saying no might send his mom the wrong signal - like I wasn't interested in maintaining that connection when she had gone to the trouble of reaching out to me. Then I began to stress about why she wanted to see me. Was it to lecture me about how badly I'd treated her son? Was it to warn me to keep my distance? Or was it something much scarier: maybe Mark was so pissed with me that he'd gone and told her my secret! And she was going to have it out with me for being such a terrible person and misleading her family for so many years. When that thought went through my mind I could feel my whole body shudder and a cold sweat broke out all over me. It was then I realized just how much I dreaded the McCowans learning that the nice girl who'd dated their only son and whom they'd invited into their home so many times was really a crossdressing male - well, a transsexual now, but not then. And I felt like I'd rather be dead than be alive when they inevitably found out. But the rational side of me eventually took over and I calmed down by convincing myself that Mark would never spill the beans on me, because then he'd have to own up to the part he played in the whole deception and admit to his parents that he was gay. Still, I knew, if Mark and I were ever to have a future together - the only kind of future I'd accept - they would eventually learn my secret, one way or another. Then it struck me like a bolt of lightning: that's why Mark had backed away from me! Why he only wanted to see me on the sly. With Pam's death, he knew there was nothing standing in the way of Sandra Johnson becoming his new wife and step-mother to his kids, but then my big secret would come to light, along with his own. And Mark being the thoughtful, considerate man he really was, he wanted to protect me - and himself, and his kids too. And I never gave him the chance to explain himself. So my get-together with his mom wouldn't be so nerve-wracking after all. I can do this, I thought, as I went about making myself look nice, putting my hair up and going easy on the makeup, and knowing how Mrs. McCowan appreciated when I wore a dress, picked out a nice semi- conservative one that was spring-appropriate. She met me at the door and complimented me on my appearance and my dress, and I said I loved hers too, and she replied "Oh, this is just what I wear to church." She said her husband had gone with Megan to her daughter's volleyball tournament, and that she would normally have gone too but felt it was more important that we had a good chat. That made me nervous all over again - like, what was I in for? She got me settled on the big sofa while she made coffee and arranged the carafe and some baked goodies on a tray, making small talk, like how was my mom doing, and my brother and his wife, and how was I liking my job. I replied that everyone was doing great, and that I loved the firm and the people there and being able to work downtown and dress nice every day, and how I'd met a wonderful new girlfriend at work. Then she set the tray onto the coffee table and sat in the big easy chair and poured for both of us. She remembered how I took mine, which was pretty cool, I thought. Then she got right into it. "I've been hoping we could talk for quite some time, Sandra," she said, looking straight at me. "And with the accident ... well, things are different now, aren't they?" I just nodded, not entirely sure where this was going. "Mark's a single father now. He's going to be in mourning for a while, but eventually he'll re-marry. He needs to ...the children need a mother, and he needs a committed partner." None of this was news to me, and it now seemed obvious where she was headed, but I just kept my mouth shut, nodding at the appropriate times, and listened. I could feel my heart beating. "I think we both know Mark has always had strong feelings for you, Sandra," she continued. "It was a big disappointment for his father and me when you broke up, because we felt you were so good for each other. Then when he got involved with Pamela again, and she got pregnant, we were completely shocked." "I was too," I volunteered. "It wasn't a happy marriage," she stated, shaking her head. "Pamela had some unresolved issues ..." "I know," I jumped in, perhaps too eagerly but suddenly feeling like Pam needed me to be her voice. "Her father abandoned her, and her mom." Mrs. M's eyebrows raised. "Oh, you know about that. Well, I think it had a very negative effect on her, and she brought all that baggage into the marriage." "But you can't blame her for that, can you Mrs. McCowan? Like, my friend Kath was serving at this church event last month where they did a talk about it? It's really so sad, how it hurts girls so much, and how it messes up their lives, and their kids' lives ..." He face lit up. "I was there, Sandra - a friend invited me. Yes, it was a real eye-opener. I have a niece who's going through the same thing with her father, my brother-in-law." "That's so sad. If there was only some way to get through to these guys!" "Yes, if we could prevent the damage being done in the first place ..." "That would be the best thing, right? Kath told me they talked about how girls should make better choices? Like choosing guys who are more committed ..." "Yes, that would certainly help. But the message was really about the one father who never abandons us, and how we can always depend on him to be there." "You mean God?" Kath hadn't mentioned that part. She smiled and nodded. "Of course, Sandra. But we might be getting a bit off topic now. Where were we? Oh yes ... Mark was in a very bad place this past year. Things had become very difficult at home. They weren't sleeping in the same room ..." I just shook my head to show my concern. But I was surprised she was sharing this with me. "We were very worried about the twins - and Mark. So we started taking them on the weekends so he could get out and do some of the things he loved with his friends, like hiking and skiing." I just nodded. "But I know he was seeing you as well," she said. "A friend of mine saw you together at a restaurant. When she saw your blonde hair she assumed it was Pamela, but when she saw your face ..." I couldn't say a word, I felt so uncomfortable. "You were holding hands. Sandra ... I'm not going to criticize you, or even say you what you were doing was wrong. It's not even any of my business. You're both grown-up people now. I'm just curious about why." Oh my God, was that awkward! "Um, I don't know what to say, Mrs. McCowan ... except I'm so sorry. It just ... kind of happened. I knew Mark was hurting so bad. My friend - you know, Kath, Ben's girlfriend? Well, she told me what was going on, and I felt so bad for him. Then we kind of ran into each other in January ... I had a car accident and he came to my rescue? I sent him a card and a flower, and then we got together for coffee ..." "And it went from there," she said, finishing my sentence. "Yes. I don't know, Mrs. McCowan ... I just felt so bad for him, like he needed a friend who understood him and would listen and make him feel that he wasn't all alone in the world ..." She smiled and nodded. "I was hoping it might have been something like that. I always felt you were a kind-hearted young woman, and I suppose you helped Mark when he needed compassion." I nodded again, feeling slightly less remorseful. She went on. "Sandra, I really don't want to know any more than that. But I'm satisfied you acted with the best of intentions ..." "I never wanted to harm their marriage, Mrs. McCowan." "Honey, I don't think you could have made it any worse than it was." I wasn't so sure about that, but I was happy to get a pass from her just the same. But if I thought that was all there would be to our chat, boy, was I mistaken! She asked if I would like a refill, and I said yes please, and she offered me some banana bread she'd baked the night before, just for our get-together. I nibbled on a slice and told her it was absolutely delicious. "Sandra," she said with a serious tone, "there's something we need to get out in the open between us ..." "Yes, Ma'am?" My heart sank again. Could it be what I'd always feared? But no, it wasn't, thank God. "I need to know what your intentions are with Mark. Do you see yourself ever, um ..." "Marrying him? Uh, I thought I did. A long time ago it's what I hoped would happen one day. But I couldn't, you know ..." "Have children. I know. You told me you felt Mark deserved someone who could give him children." "You too, Mrs. McCowan. It would've been so unfair to you and Mr. McCowan ..." She smiled again. "Well, Mark has children now, and we have grandchildren now, don't we? So let's talk about the present, not the past. Do you see yourself becoming Mark's wife ... I don't mean now, but at some point?" I picked up my cup and took a sip, then turned my face away towards their huge living room window, contemplating the new leaves on the trees and the spring blossoms for a minute or two. And then I took a deep breath. "Mrs. McCowan ... I don't think that's ... realistic? It might never be." "Why, honey?" This was it - the moment of truth, I suddenly realized. And to this day I don't know what came over me at that moment, but something inside me - my conscience, or Pam's spirit, or whatever - took over my brain and my mouth. "It's because ... it's because of something I've been keeping from you, from the beginning." I still couldn't face her - I kept staring at the blossoms, which at that moment seemed to signify a break with the past, a whole new start ... and from somewhere within me I found the courage to speak. "I'm not the person you think I am, Mrs. McCowan. You see ... I'm not even a girl. I mean, I wasn't born a girl ..." My hands went to my eyes as I began to cry. "I've been lying to you and your family all these years." Immediately I felt her next to me, her arms around my shoulders. "Honey ... it's okay. I know." I was totally shocked! "You ... know? How long have you ..." Now I was full-on bawling. At least partly because Mark had obviously divulged my secret. How could he? "For a while, honey. Your mother and I had a long talk ..." "She told you? When?" Now I REALLY felt betrayed. My own mother!!! "It was when you were in the hospital out west, after that man injured you? Mark told me you were there for reconstructive surgery ... I wanted to go and visit you but he said I shouldn't, so I went to see your mother instead." "That's where I ... had my surgery," I sobbed. "Yes, she told me. But honey, it's okay. How can I say this ... I'd always felt there was something, um, different about you. You were almost too perfect. I didn't know any other teenage girls who looked after themselves like you did, who dressed as nicely as you did. When I found out you'd been born male, and that you had this condition - a hormonal problem? - that kept you from developing as a male, it all started to make sense. You would have been so concerned about fitting in with other boys. Your mother said you were always so pretty as a child, and it would have been so difficult for you, looking so feminine and having that girl's voice, with all the teasing and bullying." I nodded my head, clutching a wad of tissues against my eyes. "But you must think I'm the most horrible person in the world, for pretending to be somebody I wasn't ..." "Honey, I won't say you weren't wrong to do that. Perhaps you got all caught up in the deception, and couldn't find a way out." "I WAS deceiving you. Myself too." "Yes, I won't disagree. You're a very sensitive, uh, person, Sandra. It must have been very difficult for you." "It WAS. Like, I was always so terrified that you'd find out ..." She nodded. "I suppose that's one reason you broke up with Mark?" "I think so." "I would imagine so too." She paused for a moment. "Did you always want to be a girl ... or feel like you should have been a girl?" "Um ... I guess I never really felt right as a boy? But I didn't really think about it till I was maybe twelve or thirteen. I was kind of like Mark - I never did sports or other guy things? And my friends were all girls. Then when I started, you know, developing some female characteristics, and people started mistaking me for a girl ..." "That's when you began wearing ..." "Girls' clothes. And then I started experimenting with makeup, and everyone kept telling me how pretty I was ..." "And how was your mother with all these changes?" "She was kind of surprised at first. But she was supportive." "She said she took you on a mother-daughter trip to Disneyland." "Yes ... that was so amazing. We went shopping too - and we bought that white dress I wore on my first date with Mark." Mrs. M smiled, "That was a lovely dress - white eyelet is one of my favorites. "Mine too." "Your mother must have thought you were so beautiful. She told me she always wanted a daughter." "Uh-huh. I guess she got her wish ..." "She certainly did. And I suppose things progressed from there?" "Yes. Mrs. McCowan, it was all so amazing. I always thought girls had it so much better ... and now I could experience it for myself? I loved shopping for clothes, and mixing and matching? And I loved doing my hair, and doing my makeup? And I loved all the compliments." Mrs. M sat back a little so she could make eye contact with me." But tell me something if you don't mind, Sandra. I've always wondered - it's one thing to grow up a boy, and then to start dressing and living as a girl, but's it quite another to take that extra step and become someone's girlfriend. You'd have to be attracted to boys ..." "I wasn't especially ... but Mark was always such a friend to me, and he was the nicest guy in the whole world ..." "Is that what it was that made you want to start dating him?" Now I was only sniffling a little. Oddly, I was feeling a sense of relief to be able to share my feelings with this woman, and she seemed SO understanding. "I guess so. It was a bit of a surprise when I realized I was attracted to him, you know, as a guy?" "DO you mean YOU as a guy, or him?" "Both, I guess. It was a bit confusing for me ..." "Had you ever dated a girl before that - as a boy?" I nodded. "My friend Julia ... we went to a school dance together." "Were you attracted to Julia?" "Uh-huh - mostly to her personality? She was a lot of fun to be around. But she could be so un-ladylike sometimes. I was always trying to get her to be, you know, more girly?" That made her laugh. "Did she ever find you ... a little TOO girly?" "Maybe a little. I was just starting to, you know, dress like a girl around then? She wasn't too impressed." Mrs. M laughed again. "I can't imagine many girls would be. Oh Sandra, I hope you don't think I'm prying too much - but this is all so fascinating." "It's okay, Mrs. McCowan. I haven't been honest with you at all, so I guess I owe you a lot of explaining." "Please don't feel you need to, honey. I'm just happy you feel comfortable sharing all this with me. And please know that this is just between the two of us, okay?" And my Mom, I thought. "Okay, thanks." "So back to Mark. He obviously knew about you ..." I wasn't sure how much I should share about Mark, not knowing if his parents were aware of his sexual orientation. "Um ...yes. He knew about me from the start." "Did he know you as a ..." She cocked her head. "As a boy? Yes. We met when we were rehearsing for 'Fiddler on the Roof'. I was still attending school as a boy then." "You were? Oh, I'm surprised! When I saw you in the play and heard you sing, I never would have guessed. You had such a lovely voice! Then you came to the cast party here at our house as a girl. You looked so pretty in your pink top and those white capri pants. And your makeup, and that beautiful long hair! And you were wearing Halston, weren't you?" Wow - she remembered everything I was wearing, even my perfume. So that's where her son got that amazing gift for remembering things, I thought, like how much I loved daisies when he sent me those flowers in the Portland clinic. "Yes I was. I was trying to be, you know..." "As pretty as possible. You were very brave." "I guess so. Performing as a girl really helped. Like, I figured everyone was so used to seeing me wearing a dress ... and I wanted to look my nicest for Mark." "I'm sure you did. When did you decide you were falling in love with him?" "Oh, that's easy. On that first big date? When he took me to that nice French restaurant. Mrs. McCowan, he was SO wonderful to me. He treated me like a princess. And he was SO handsome. It was the most romantic night of my life." She smiled. "You looked very beautiful. I know - I was spying." I giggled, "Yes, I remember. I guess I can understand why, now ..." She nodded again, then her face took on a more serious expression. "Sandra, I think you and I both know Mark isn't a ..." She seemed to be hunting for the right word. "... typical young man? He was never interested in things most boys like. He didn't do well in sports at school, and he liked playing with girls more than boys. He wasn't very content as a child ..." I just nodded and kept my mouth shut. "His father and I were getting a little concerned. Once I found him playing with Marcia ... she'd dressed him in some of her clothes and he was having so much fun, pretending to be her little sister. He seemed so happy, I didn't have the heart to scold him." Needless to say, what I was hearing floored me. I had no idea! "But he never gave us any trouble," she continued. "He was the sweetest little boy, so happy and so kind ... but in high school the problems started. He was picked on by some of the more popular boys. And there was an incident ... involving a teacher, on a school trip. Mark didn't tell us about it until years later." "Oh, how awful! Poor Mark! Is that why he switched schools?" She smiled thinly. "I think that was part of it. But it was the bullying, mostly. He didn't want to go to that school anymore. And he wanted badly to be in a good drama program." "He met Pam at that school, right?" "Yes, they were in the same class. But I don't think she knew what he'd been going through. And by then he was tall and quite good-looking ..." "AND he was this really nice guy ..." She nodded. "The kind of man her father never was." "When did they start dating?" "In their junior year. She asked him to dance at the spring prom. Mark found out later she was trying to make another boy jealous. But he didn't know that at the time, and he thought she was genuinely interested in him. At the time, he was unsure of his ... um, preferences? So I think he decided to give it a try - dating a girl, I mean." All this was super-interesting. "I'm sure he treated her very well, knowing him." "Oh yes. And she responded. She started phoning him every night, sometimes more than once. But she would never want to speak with Mark's dad or me. I found that a bit strange. But eventually he got tired of all the hounding. He told me he felt like she was suffocating him. And by then you had come on the scene." My memory kicked in. "I met her at his grad banquet. Were they still dating then?" She smiled. "Not as far as Mark was concerned, but Pamela seemed to think so. She didn't want to let go. I don't know why he asked her, to be honest - it was probably her pestering. But he said that convinced him to call it off with her, once and for all. When he began dating you, his father and I were quite pleased." "You were?" "Oh yes, honey. We loved you from the moment we met you. You seemed to be everything Pamela wasn't - well spoken, polite, kind, generous, talented - a lot like Mark. And knowing about his ... um, uncertainty about himself? Well I have to admit, we were relieved that he'd found himself a nice girl, and not ..." My heart sank a little when she said that - like I was really what they DIDN'T want Mark to find. "And you were so beautiful, and so feminine," she continued, shaking her head. "I felt so strongly that this was the perfect kind of girl for Mark." A knot in my stomach formed and tears began to well up in my eyes again. "Oh, Mrs. McCowan - I'm SO sorry. You had such high hopes ..." She moved over and put her arms around me again, and brushed some stray hair strands from my damp cheek. "Oh honey - don't you understand? You ARE the perfect girl for Mark." What a mind-boggling thing for her to say, I thought. "Oh, it's so incredible you think that ... but what about you, and Mr. McCowan? Don't you deserve a daughter-in-law who's a real female? And what about your grandchildren? It's not fair to them ..." She squeezed me a little tighter. "Honey ... one thing I've learned is that families come in all colors and shapes and sizes. What's important is how we love and respect and support each other - not our internal plumbing. Mr. McCowan and I would be more than thrilled to have you as our daughter-in-law. We know you'd make our son happy and we know he can make you happy. Our grandchildren need a happy home and we know you two can provide that for them. And I know you'd make a good mother." It's difficult for me to describe how I was feeling at that moment. It was like I'd just discovered my lottery numbers matched, or maybe I'd won the Miss America title, or even a bucketful of gold medals at the Olympics - after all the years of hoping and dreaming and agonizing. The full meaning and reality of what Mark's mom had just said to me was yet to sink in, but I put my arms around Mrs. M as tears of joy streamed down my face. But there was still a dark cloud obscuring my otherwise sunny sky. "Oh Mrs. McCowan ... how can I say this ... it's Mark - I don't think he really wants me ... for his wife ..." "Honey, Mark doesn't know for sure what he wants right now - it's a very difficult time for him. I think I know exactly what he needs, but I'm his mother - so I'm not the right person to tell him. I don't know if you are, either, honey. But I do know he loves you very much, and know he wants to talk to you. Just listen to what he has to say ... can you do that?" "I'll try ... I will. Thank you SO much, Mrs. McCowan. I don't know what to say ..." She just hugged me again, and I hugged her too. Mr. McCowan and Megan walked in the door a few minutes later. Megan bounded into the room, screaming with joy, "We won, we won!" I found myself screaming too, like a crazy girl. I hugged her and we jumped up and down. "That's so AWESOME!" I squealed. As her mom hugged her and congratulated her, the thought crossed my mind that I was on the verge of winning my own tournament, too. I ended up being invited to stay for dinner, which ended up being at a nice casual restaurant because Mrs. M hadn't been able to lift a finger to prepare anything, and besides it was a time for celebrating, and I ended up collecting Mom so she could join us. Poor Mr. M, or should I say lucky Mr. M, who had all these delightful girls to entertain him, or at least center him out. Whatever, all I could think of was how amazing and wonderful it would be if I could really, at last, become a part of the McCowan family! On the way home I gave Mom a brief recap of what had taken place that day, and she was amazed and thrilled for me. "Let me see how this sounds," she said excitedly, "Alexandra McCowan. Hmm - it does have a nice ring to it." "I think I'll stick with Sandra McCowan," I said with a giggle. "Unless I need to impress someone." "Honey, I think you've already impressed a lot of people." I pursed my lips and replied, "All except the most important one." I felt completely drained by the time we arrived home, and told Mom I needed to go to bed, even though it was only about nine-thirty. But I needed to think. Not only had I revealed my big secret to the very person I'd long dreaded would find out, but she had basically forgiven me and accepted me for who I was, even going so far as inviting me to become part of her family. Unbelievable! And I'd also learned so much more about Mark - what his life was like before I met him, and how I wasn't the only one with uncomfortable secrets. Of course, that only made me feel more compassionate towards him. But I still needed to find out why he didn't seem to want me to occupy the place his mother wanted me to in his life, and do my best to change his mind. If I was unsuccessful, nothing else would matter. ***** I managed to make a date for an early dinner with Mark the following Saturday, but only by promising not to walk out on him this time. Actually, his mom made the reservation and put it in my name. I'll bet you can figure out where! However, Erica and I met up for coffee the day before. She made me relate the whole story of my day with Mrs. McCowan, in spite of my agreement to keep the details between her and me. Luckily, I trusted Erica a thousand percent! When I told her my answer to Mrs. M's question about my motives for seeing Mark, she said it didn't surprise her. "You have many of the same instincts as other women - like the need to protect and comfort those you love?" "Yeah, but that can sure get us into trouble sometimes." "Not this time. It sounds like she appreciates how you protected and comforted Mark." "Only 'cause she doesn't know how far I went to do that!" I laughed. "If she did, I'd be in shit up to my neck!" Erica laughed too. "That's another way you're just like other women. They seem to feel they have to put out to cheer a man up." "And you don't?" I giggled. "Never!" she stated with a stern expression. Then she burst out in giggles too. That led into a longish chat about how much we both felt we were like real women, with our looks, our mannerisms and feelings, not to mention our fashion sense and love of clothes, but how different we knew we were - like, we'd never have a period, or get pregnant, or nurse a baby, although we could still get common female ailments like breast cancer and varicose veins, and it would be easier for us to get fat than if we'd stayed male. What a horrible thought, we both agreed - that would almost be worse than the other stuff! The conversation eventually switched back to my chat with Mrs. McCowan. When I mentioned how Mom had blabbed to her, she shook her head and said, "Oh Sandra, you can't count on mothers to keep secrets from each other. Or most women, for that matter? Secrets are a valuable currency for women. And they can have a lot of power over us." "You don't have to convince me. Sometimes I felt like my secret was controlling my whole life. Like, I was so freaked that Mark's folks would find out? And what would happen when they did? I'd want to kill myself." "But that's the thing, isn't it - they're that powerful. How did you feel after you told Rob?" "Hmm ... like shit. Then it was like a big weight had been lifted off me." "And how do you feel now - after telling Mark's mother?" "Like my head's still spinning? But pretty good - like I was sentenced to death, and they found out I wasn't guilty after all." She laughed. "That sounds serious! But that's just it - a secret loses all its power once it's revealed." "Wow - you're so right. How come you're so wise, anyway?" She laughed again. "Don't I have to be? I'm your mentor." ***** That Karen is the best friend a girl could ask for. She managed to fit me in the very next day. I knew Saturdays were her busiest days, so she must have rescheduled someone else just to see me. A big huge tip is in order, I decided, when she confirmed me for eleven o'clock and I knew she'd have to work through her lunch break. "I'm a bit surprised," she said as I sat down. "I thought you were really rockin' the blonde life." "Oh, it HAS been pretty amazing," I giggled. "I got to be a blonde in a bikini - that was the coolest thing in the whole world! And the guys - there must be a million sore necks out there. Just walking down the sidewalk ..." "Oh I KNOW," she agreed as she fastened the smock around my neck. "Gentlemen do prefer blondes. That's MY motto." "Well I thought so too, but I happen to have one that prefers brunettes? And I have the most important date of my entire life with him at five today." "Well, we'd better get you all fixed up then." Karen made me fill her in on what was up with Mark. She already knew from my previous visits that I'd been seeing him, and that Pam had been killed, and that things between Mark and I had cooled off a lot after the funeral. "Maybe he just has cold feet - about getting serious again so soon after his wife passed away." "I thought you said last time that guys get over their wife's death really fast ..." "And get re-married so fast your head would spin. Yes, I said that because it's true. My own father was dating again three months after Mom died. I've never forgiven him." "Oh, I'm sure you have by now. Anyway, I don't care if Mark has cold feet or not - he needs me - his mom told me that to my face. So I have to go all out to win him over." "That doesn't sound very romantic. Isn't he supposed to be winning YOU over? You're the one who'd be giving up all her freedom to become a housewife and a mother to two small kids." "I wish you wouldn't put it that way - even if it's true. I just know I'll never find another guy like him. And I love those little sweethearts. I'll never have another chance to be a mom, either." An hour and a half later, Karen swung the chair around to face the mirror. Even though I'd been a dark-haired boy, and then girl, for my whole life, it was still a bit of a shock to see myself with the same color of locks again. But that was the only thing that was the same as before. She'd given me a new, sexy style with a side part and my hair was almost perfectly straight, with only a bit of curl at the ends. I thought it looked gorgeous, sophisticated, and SO up-to-date! "You won't need to worry about your roots from now on," she explained. "But we may have to do the odd touch-up if your color starts looking a bit brassy. We've been dyeing your hair blonde for so long, it might not agree with you about going brunette again." "It has no choice," I laughed. "This is serious business!" "Then let's hope it does the job. So we have another half-hour, honey. Anything else we can squeeze in?" Oh, I love that woman! "Um, do you think we could do my nails?" She shook her head. "I don't think there's enough time for a French ..." "Oh no - I just want something really nice ... really pretty. To go with a red dress." "Wow - you really ARE going all out, aren't you? What are we talking - fire engine red?" "Yes please - and with super gloss?" "Okay, but it'll cost you," she grinned. "I'll be looking for a full report!" That made me giggle. "Okay. Let's hope it's a good one." "What about your makeup? Please tell me you're going all out." "Oh yeah. I've got two hours." "Good." ***** Mark was already seated when the ma?tre-D showed me to our table. Surprisingly, even though the place had just opened for dinner, it was nearly half full. I had the sense that all eyes were upon me, or my dress - okay, maybe that slim-fitting red sheath dress with the low, lacy neckline and scalloped hem was a bit much, or maybe not, but too bad, suck it up, this was a big deal for me! I smiled when I realized it was the same table we had for that incredibly romantic date years before. When Mark saw me he did a double take, and quickly got up to hold my chair for me. I noticed he was wearing a light beige jacket, white-and-blue striped shirt, crisp new slim-fitting blue jeans and shiny brown oxfords. He looked quite the picture of male style, like he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ! I wondered how many of the other women in the place had checked him out and compared their dates. "Thank you," I said softly as I smoothed my dress under me and settled into the plush fabric of the chair. That was only my first deja-vu moment of the evening. "You look amazing," he said, shaking his head. "Nice hair ..." "Someone told me they preferred brunettes." "They do - a lot. They like your dress too. And those shoes - how in the world do you walk in them?" I smiled again, appreciating the compliments. "Black patent's the only thing you can wear with this kind of dress. I might've got a little carried away with the heel ..." A waiter appeared unexpectedly and placed a crystal vase with a dozen red roses on our table. "Oh - are these for us?" I asked, looking around the restaurant as though he'd delivered them to the wrong couple. "No - they're for you," Mark said with a smile. "Didn't you once say the normal sucking-up gift was a dozen roses?" My heart must have missed ten beats! How romantic! Not only had he remembered, but he seemed to be in a mood to reconcile. "Thank you Mark - that was very nice of you." The waiter gave his name, which I don't remember, not having that gift, and Mark ordered us a bottle of white wine. "Of course," the man said, and he strode crisply away. I leaned forward and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but I'm not twenty- one for another two months." I noticed Mark's gaze was on the neckline of my dress, which meant he was checking out more than just the delicate red lace trim. And here his mother had said he wasn't a typical guy! "I won't tell if you don't." "The roses are so beautiful," I purred. "Like you," he replied. "They match your dress." He took one of my hands and admired it. "Oh, and your nails too." Well, that was as effective an icebreaker as a girl could ask for, and for the first half-hour or so, it felt so much like old times -reminiscing and laughing and just enjoying each other's company. I let Mark order for me - I can't remember what - and we shared two different appetizers as the conversation shifted to more serious matters - like what would our future look like - if there was to be a future together. I began by telling him his mother now knew all about me - well, that I was the result of a screwed-up hormonal system, anyway. He said he'd been wondering if she was in on my secret. I didn't tell him, though, that she wanted us to get married. Mark admitted to being extremely confused after Pam's death, with his gay issues, and guilt issues, and feelings of inadequacy. When I questioned him on that last thing, he said he had serious concerns about whether he was the right guy for me, and if he even deserved someone like me, who seemed to have it all together. I told him that was crazy, that I thought he was always way more together than I was. He shook his head, and then he talked about being sexually molested by the teacher, and how devastating it was for him, and how he thought that might be the root of his gay tendencies. It was hard to hear Mark talk about those things. I felt so bad for him! It made me recall how ill at ease I felt when he used to penetrate me anally. If I'd known why he wanted to do that, I might have been a lot more understanding. Or maybe not - I was terribly ignorant back then. But I also wondered about that little tidbit his mom had shared - about wearing his sister's clothes. That could have been connected somehow with his sexual preferences, too. So I felt confident enough to share with him, for the very first time, about my over-reaction to getting my first bout of acne, and how that led to taking female hormones at a critical time in puberty. I gazed admiringly at the roses as I related how Julia had tricked me into dressing as a girl, and how I became addicted to cross-dressing, and then to being a girlfriend who fell in love with a boyfriend, and how I asked for and got a prescription for stronger hormones, which then wreaked havoc on my moods, which helped to alienate me from that boyfriend - and how the young woman in the red dress seated across from him was the direct result of all that youthful recklessness. Mark sounded genuinely amazed. "Wow, I had no idea - we really ARE two peas in a pod, aren't we?" he declared, shaking his head. "I've been trying to tell you that, you dimwit," I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head too. He just laughed. "Hey, did I ever tell you you have beautiful eyes for a guy?" he joked. "So are you ... really a girl now, or ..." "Still a boy? Yes, I know I am, even though I'm a girl physically? This is how I'm going to stay for the rest of my life. I still think like a boy, and I'm still who my genes say I am, or my chromosomes, or whatever they are." "But not your hormones ..." "No, that ship sailed a long time ago. Female hormones are in control of all my emotions now. I have to be on them for the rest of my life. That's why I'm so high maintenance." He grinned. "I'm okay with that." Then Mark shared something else with me. "I wasn't going to tell you this, Sandy - I mean Sandra, that's what I'm calling you from now on - but I've been in counselling for the past year or so." "You have? Did Pam know? Does your mom know?" "No, but Dad does. I was taking an hour off work every week to go." "Was it because of Pam?" "Everything. When you and I started seeing each other, I told him I was in love with you, and I'd always been in love with you ..." "Did you tell him, like ... all about me?" He shrugged. "I might have left out the part about you being a guy once. But I told him about the whole Rob thing. And I did say you were the prettiest girl I ever met." "Thank you. So what advice did he give you?" "He wanted me to stop seeing you, like cut off all contact immediately. He thought it was all about your looks, and he said what if you broke up with me again? But I couldn't do it, Sandra. You were the only thing keeping me sane. But then when Pam was killed, he said something that made me start to blame our relationship for what happened. And I've been carrying around all this guilt ever since. It was eating me apart. I couldn't see how we could ever be happy together after that." The thought occurred to me that counsellors should be helping you get over guilt, not inventing reasons for you to feel guilty. "Oh Mark, that's so horrible! I can't let you feel guilty about Pam. If anyone should feel guilty it's me ..." He shook his head. "No, Sandra - neither one of us has to feel guilty any more. Even if we had something to do with Pam's death, what good would it do now? She and I were never going to be happy together. We were totally different people and both of us had a ton of old baggage." I nodded slowly, gazing at the roses again. "I guess you're right. But I still feel like I owe her something - I'm not sure what, but something - and I'm going to make it up to her." Mark looked puzzled. "How? What do you mean?" "I don't know yet." "Well please don't lose sleep over it." "I'll try not to." By then we were picking over the remaining morsels of the dessert we were sharing. I had no idea of the time, but I'm sure several hours had gone by, and many, many deja-vu moments, and my bladder was sending me signals I could no longer ignore. I began to rise and he did the same. "Excuse me Mark - it's time for a little freshen-up." I could still feel the effects of a half-bottle of wine as I walked gingerly across the carpet in those tall heels. I'd forgotten how spotless and pretty the 'Femmes' restroom was. In the toilet stall there was yet another deja-vu moment, but with a difference. I recalled having to clumsily extract myself from my gaff the last time I was in there, with the hem of my white eyelet dress held under my chin to keep it out of the way, and then carefully put everything back in place again, trying not to pinch the wrong thing and make myself yelp in pain. But this time all I had to do was hike up my dress a little and slip my lace-trimmed panties down to my ankles, do my business and pat myself off with some tissue, and voila - all done. And they say it's more convenient with a penis! After washing my hands I dug in my purse for my bright red lipstick, and using the lighted magnifying makeup mirror I traced the outline of my lips, filling in until I was satisfied. Then I inspected my eye makeup. 'Need a mascara fix,' I thought, and I brushed my lashes a little to separate them and make them look fuller and longer. 'Thank you God for giving me girls' lashes,' I thought for the zillionth time. I adjusted my white gold necklace and matching pendant earrings, and then I returned to my date. The table had been cleared and brushed off, and all that remained were the roses and two crystal champagne flutes. I could make out the bubbly liquid in them as I approached from ten feet away. Mark rose again and held my chair for me, and I noticed the chair was turned outwards to face his, just like it had been four years earlier when I did that to give him better access to my bare legs. Something was up! He sat back down and I expected us to resume our conversation. But Mark's eyes were gazing at me - I mean my face, my dress, my hands, my legs, my hair - everything. "You really are the prettiest girl I've ever met," he said softly and earnestly. "I'm just in awe. I guess I was never able to convince myself that someone like me could be interesting to someone like you. I was sure you'd get tired of me and leave ..." Like I left him for Rob, I thought. "Oh Mark ... I'm so sorry. You trusted me ... and I let you down." He shook his head. "No Sandra, that's ancient history and we both know why it happened. And I had my own part to play in all of it, with Pam. So let's put it all behind us right now - okay?" "Okay, Mark - I'll try. But I can't believe it - you said exactly what my thoughts have always been. That I was never good enough for someone like you." He bit his lip and shook his head, and for a moment I thought he was about to cry. "Yeah ... we really are two peas in a pod." "Uh-huh ... we're perfect for each other. Everybody always said so. Even our families." "Yes ... I know that now. I'm sorry I was so ignorant the last time we saw each other ..." "I am too. But you bought me these beautiful roses, so we're all good now, right?" Mark didn't answer right away. He just looked me in the eye for a long moment, and then he smiled at me. "Like I said before, Sandra, you're too easy to please." He dug in his jacket pocket, and out came a small white box. My heart began beating wildly as he held the box and opened the lid. It was ... a pair of earrings! To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I was sure it was going to be something else. But I did my best to gather my wits and try not to act disappointed. "Oh Mark - they're beautiful!" I carefully lifted the two items from their backing and held them up. Each had a dozen or so clear little gemstones that twinkled and glittered in the candlelight. "Mark, these aren't diamonds ... are they?" He smiled, "What did you think they'd be? I said you might have to wait for diamonds. I'm just sorry you had to wait four years." I got up and he did too, and we embraced and kissed. "Thank you, Mark, thank you!" I squealed between kisses. "You have no idea how much this means to me! I love you, I love you!" "Why don't you go try them on?" he suggested. "Really? Oh, what a great idea. I'll be right back." As I was tottering off to the ladies' room once again, I wondered what was going on with Mark. I mean, the roses were more than enough, and they were a very romantic gesture. He didn't have to give me these earrings. And if he was really in the mood to buy me diamonds, I could think of another piece of jewelry that would be even more appreciated. But when I inserted the little hoops into my ear piercings and checked myself out in the mirror, I was blown away. I'd never worn diamonds before. They were absolutely beautiful - a kind of treble clef-inspired pendant design in white gold with small stones all over that caught the light and sparkled like multi-colored fire. I hugged and kissed Mark again when I returned, and I thanked him for his generosity. He said the earrings looked perfect against my dress and my long dark hair. Then I remembered something. "Mark, shouldn't we ask for the check? And please - it's my treat - you've spent enough on me already tonight." He shrugged. "Already looked after, darlin'. And NOT by my folks this time." "Oh Mark, you shouldn't ..." "Oh yes I should. Just think of it as major sucking up. Like in that movie you like so much ..." "Pretty Woman? Oh, I get it - when she was treated so badly in the shop on Rodeo Drive?" "Exactly. You're not the only one who likes that flick, you know." "Really? You do? That's so cool! But ... I should be buying something for you, too." "Oh no you don't - we just agreed that we're putting all that ancient history behind us. From now on it's all about the future. OUR future ..." Mark's demeanor seemed to soften. His hand reached into his other breast pocket, and out came another white box, identical to the first. He slipped off his chair and got down on one knee in front of me. My heart started beating like crazy, all over again. It all happened so quickly! "I thought maybe you could use a little something to go with your new earrings," he said with a big smile as he opened the box. Inside was the most beautiful ring I'd ever laid eyes upon. I was positively speechless! Could this really be happening? My left hand trembled as he slid the ring over my glossy red fingernail and into position. It looked and felt amazing! "Alexandra Rene Johnson," he said slowly and deliberately, looking into my eyes as he spoke, "will you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?" My answer came in a faint squeak, I was so blown away. "Yes." I nodded in case he couldn't hear. Then I exclaimed "YES! YES!" We both stood and kissed enthusiastically. Suddenly there was applause and cheers coming from all over the restaurant. I hadn't realized that Mark and I had become the evening's entertainment! We both laughed and kissed again, this time for effect. "I think this is where we take our bows," he joked. And just like when we did 'Fiddler' together, we stood next to each other and bowed deeply to our audience. And there was more clapping and cheering! ***** If the wine and champagne weren't enough, after Mark's proposal I was definitely in no condition to get myself home, so my Beetle stayed behind while my husband-to-be drove me. The final deja-vu moment of the evening was on my front porch, as we kissed and kissed and kissed for quite some time, neither of us wanting to be the one to break it off and call it a night. Of course, Mom was the first to get a look at my new jewelry. "It's very beautiful, honey," she said admiringly, her face beaming. "Congratulations! He's a wonderful man and I know you're going to be very happy. But I'm going to miss having you here ..." "Oh Mom, I'm not leaving town or anything. We're going to have you over all the time." "I hope so. Did you set a date?" "We talked about sometime in August? But nothing firm yet - we have to look into what's available to book. But I'd do it tomorrow if I could ... I can't wait to be Mark's wife!" She smiled and gave me a nice warm hug. As you can imagine, it was pretty hard to get any sleep that night. The next few days were like a blur! All my friends had the news before Sunday was half over - I phoned everyone and told them all about my evening with Mark, trying not to sound too full of myself or anything. It was Julia who offered to organize my stag-ette. "Okay, but no bars with male strippers," I warned her. Mom and I were invited to the McCowan home for dinner that evening. I got huge hugs and congratulations from everyone, including Marci, and Megan was positively beside herself with excitement. "I can't believe it! You're going to be my sister!" she squealed. And my future mother- in-law told me she was 'ecstatic.' At work the next day, all the girls crowded around to get a glimpse of my ring. Leah said the one-carat solitaire surrounded by eleven smaller diamonds was a classic romantic setting, and it was very beautiful and feminine looking. I wished I'd been able to wear the earrings as well - but that would have been way over the top for a law firm! Edward asked me to see him in his office, and after congratulating me he said that Erica had asked him to look into whether Mark and I would have any issues with our marriage licence. He said he didn't expect to have too much trouble, since I was already a female as far as the government was concerned, but he'd let me know how things were going. THAT was a big cause for concern, and I just prayed that everything would work out fine before our wedding date. As for the big date, we settled on the fourteenth of September. That was the only Saturday when the reception hall was available, and though I was disappointed to have to wait almost four months, Natalie and others assured me that the time would go super-fast with all the advance planning and preparations I'd be looking at. And yes, I did want to have a proper church wedding - that was traditional, and I definitely saw myself as a traditional girl. The ceremony would be held at the McCowans' home church, which I'd never been to but when I went for a tour looked ideal. It was an older, classic A-frame brick building with bench pews, a nice central aisle, and wide steps leading down to the curb. The main sanctuary seated about five hundred, so it wasn't huge but it would be more intimate than the mega-church where we always catered the ladies' retreats. The reception hall we booked could hold about a hundred and fifty, and it had vaulted a ceiling with open beams which were ideal for decorating. Even better, it was on a beautiful treed site overlooking the river, so as long as Mother Nature cooperated we'd have some wonderful picture-taking opportunities. Then there was the issue of catering. I wanted the Taylors to do the honors, since they were instrumental in making me the person I was, and also out of a sense of loyalty and friendship. But the venue had contractual arrangements with three caterers, none of which were named 'Prestige Catering,' and they wouldn't budge. So I had to apologize to Julia, and she surprised me by saying, "Why would I want to be working at your wedding reception?" Oh yeah, I thought - that was sure a dumb idea. But when Mom and I interviewed each of the caterers, all I could think of was making sure we had the best one so the Taylors wouldn't think we'd cheaped out. The final piece of the puzzle would be our honeymoon. There's no way in the world I was going to miss out on a decent getaway with my new husband, right after the wedding, and preferably to someplace sunny, warm and sandy. Mark took on the job of finding the perfect place, and wouldn't you know it - that man refused to tell me where we were going! But he said I needed to book a three-week vacation from work. Three weeks! I hoped Leah wouldn't be upset, but she didn't say a negative word as she penciled me into her vacation planner. Then it was just a matter of working through all the myriad big and little details. Julia helped me set up a master schedule in a spreadsheet on my computer, with all the dates everything would have to be done by and the names of everyone who had volunteered to help. She also helped me work out my wedding budget, and I will admit, when the totals column was added up the number kind of blew me away. Who knew cakes and flowers could cost so much! "Wow," Julia exclaimed, "weddings cost a pile of money! I think maybe I'll just live together - if I ever find someone who'd move in with me." "Trust me, it can happen overnight," I said. "Look at me - a month ago I said I'd probably never get married, and now it's like three months away." Where the money would come from was definitely my biggest concern. My clothes-shopping habits had prevented me from accumulating a lot in savings, and Mark had almost nothing in the bank after two years of marriage to a girl who didn't work outside the home, let alone his child care expenses since she died. But the last thing either of us wanted to do was go hat-in-hand to our parents. We went over the spreadsheet a few times to try economizing, but only managed to shave off a thousand or so. I began to think my thousand-dollar dress budget and maybe even our honeymoon would have to get chopped to the bone. Mark's father told him they wanted to help out, at least by covering the reception, but Mark said his folks had already forked over enough for his first wedding and he wasn't going to take another dime from them. We talked it over and decided we'd try to get a bank loan and pay for as much as we could on credit cards. When I told Mom what we had in mind, she stopped me mid-sentence and said she would cover the entire cost of the wedding. I was shocked. "Mom," I said, "you can't do that! It's your retirement money. You already gave me so much for my operation!" She shook her head and smiled. "Oh Sandra dear ... it's your money too. It came from our family. And I thought you said you wanted a traditional wedding. Well, isn't it traditional for the bride's family to pay for her wedding? Please let me do this, honey. It's very important to me." I couldn't dispute Mom's reasoning, and when she pleaded with me I couldn't very well tell her we weren't interested. So I found myself explaining to Mark why we could have the wedding we wanted without going bankrupt. He didn't like the idea at first, but when I reminded him that we were doing this wedding 'properly,' including who was going to pay, he reluctantly agreed to go along with it. "But we're paying for our honeymoon," he said in a way that didn't invite argument. 'Our honeymoon.' Those two words went through my head almost as often as 'our wedding' did. But each phrase held a different significance for me. Our wedding would be all about the preparation and the ceremony and reception and the stress and worry that everything would work out as hoped and planned, including the weather. But our honeymoon - in a way, that was going to be an even bigger deal for Mark and me. I had already decided I'd save myself - meaning intercourse - for my wedding night, which we planned to spend in a fancy hotel not far from the airport. I don't think Mark was on the same page as me on that subject, and as the summer progressed I got the sense that he was getting more and more desperate to try out his fiancee's new vagina, but I knew we'd never regret waiting for the proper time. So why all the fuss about the honeymoon, you ask, if the first-sex bit would be over with before we even left town? Well, it's because we'd have the next three weeks to practice and get used to each other. To say I was nervous about sex with Mark would be a huge understatement. Yes, I'd had Rob in me several times, though always with a condom, but he was a bigger man than Mark, if you know what I mean, and I couldn't comfortably accommodate all of him. So I fervently hoped that Mark would be a better fit, and if he wasn't, I'd have to keep my discomfort to myself to ensure a happy marriage for my husband. Then there was the whole orgasm problem. Post-op girls like me always have big challenges in that area! My only real orgasm to date with my new equipment was when Julia made it her mission to help me have one, after I couldn't come close with Rob. I didn't think Mark would appreciate it if I always had to go to my girlfriend for a release! So this was another huge concern for me. Remembering what Erica had said about women needing a lot of time and romance to get to orgasm, I spent a lot of time thinking about how I could plan some nice romantic occasions as well as allowing for those spontaneous moments when wonderful things can just happen. ***** Natalie wasn't kidding when she said the time would go fast. There was so much to do, and so little time! Drawing up and paring down the guest list, sending out the invitations, deciding on the menus and the table decorations, hiring a disc jockey and photographer, and arranging for flowers, amongst a million other things. Then there was the minor issue of dresses - mine and my bridesmaids'. Every girl I asked said yes, they'd love to be in my wedding party. But the hardest thing was to decide on my maid of honor. Kath seemed the obvious choice, but I ended up asking Natalie, whom I felt very close to as my 'sister' and who'd been much more supportive and helpful during my transition. The others would be Julia, Annalise, and of course Kath. So Natalie and I began the process of choosing what we would all wear. I retrospect, mine should have been the easiest. I already had a mental image of what I wanted - a strapless white chiffon gown with all the feminine details I loved, like an empire waist, sweetheart necklin