Something Old, Something New free porn video

The second floor corridor of the hotel was deathly quiet. As I walked along the thick carpet in the warm light of the wall-mounted lamps, I checked my lipstick in my compact-mirror and lifted a stray strand of hair from my brow. I arrived at room 212, my Mum Charlotte's room, and knocked on the door. My ex-boyfriend opened it; it was the first time in a year that I'd seen him. He was afraid to meet my eyes. I guessed that this wasn't because of any practised humility, a dutiful gesture towards his Mistress" daughter, but from a sense of shame being stood before his ex-girlfriend dressed as a Ladies' maid. Mum had warned me that she had brought "Anne," formerly Ryan, with her to the hotel. Very early on in their relationship she insisted Ryan take on that feminine moniker, which had been the name of a loyal house-maid of her Grandmother's. She announced Anne's presence at the hotel as if it was something that I ought to be warned about. I suppose she was justified in this precaution given that it was the occasion of my wedding. She was apologetic on the phone; what woman would want her ex turn up at her wedding to another man? She thought Anne's presence might sour the pure and romantic nature of the occasion. Of course I didn't really care. Ryan had always been such a timid and unassuming character. Character traits like those were valuable in a boyfriend, should the woman want the space and liberty to pursue her own career. But I knew, looking back at my naive behaviour, that it wasn't really love (although he certainly loved me.) Now, there was no lingering affection on my side at all. In fact my feelings for him dropped like a stone once I'd met Matthew, a broad-shouldered extrovert who I very much doubt could have fit into the dress Ryan was now wearing. With the door open, I leaned in with a smile on my face, looking into Anne's eyes as one might greet a child. He held his head bowed, half- hiding behind the hotel door. "Will you not look at me, Anne?" I asked. Ryan stole a glance, a blank expression on his face, and gracefully curtsied with the long loose skirts of his formal black dress. "Good evening Madam," he said. "Alright then," I said, pleased with his manners. "In we go." I had been outside in the country for the majority of the day, including the time when Mum first arrived at the hotel. It was the day before my Wedding, which was to be held in the grounds of the converted manor house in which we all now stayed. My fiance Matthew and I took the opportunity to spend time alone together, tracing the country-roads that criss-crossed this ancient hilly part of Kentish countryside. He never missed an opportunity to scramble up an exposed rock-face or leap over some farmer's dry-stone wall. Now back, I had changed out of my outdoor clothes to greet Mum, choosing a simple white blouse and a demure printed skirt, bought on one of my regular trips to Paris (trips never to Matthew's taste; I think he'd sooner choose a muddy field than the gilded halls of a Parisian museum). The skirt swayed around my calves as I turned into the door. In my expensive pumps, I was a good few inches taller than Anne, who was wearing a pair of old-fashioned leather court shoes. Like a Queen waiting for a foreign dignitary, Mother sat silhouetted against the wide windows at the back of her room. They stood floor-to- ceiling and granted a quaint picturesque view of the meadow surrounding the hotel, basking in the gentle evening sun, with old trees marking its edge. "Tabitha!" Mum called jubilantly after seeing me come in. "Come over here my beautiful girl." She was sat in an expensive-looking silk dressing-gown, obviously not one provided by the hotel (despite the room's price-tag). Her painted nails peeped out the end of her slippers, and her hair sat on her head, clearly a work in progress. Her greying hair was the only real evidence of her advancing years. I was getting into my mid-thirties, and I was beginning to hope more than ever that her youthful looks were the product of a gene I myself had inherited. She sat by a vanity, on a stool, her arms ready to embrace me. "Can't get up," she said, "Annie was just giving my hair a look to." I turned to look at Anne, who had closed the door and held her hands in her lap, cushioned in a large white apron, full-skirted and bibbed, flouncing and frilly. Mum's choices were predictable. I walked over to Mum and fell into her arms, careful not to nudge a hair out of place. "I'm so glad you've made it," I said. "I'm not going to miss my daughter's wedding, silly. And you look so smart, and radiant!" I released myself from her arms and performatively looked down at my outfit. "Oh, this is nothing Mummy. Save your compliments for when you see the bride tomorrow." She held her hands to her chin, fingers interlocked. "I'm so excited," she said, "I really can't wait. My beautiful girl the bride. You're not leaving here are you? Please sit down dear." I took my skirt in my hands and sat in a plush armchair, crossing my legs showily. I had to smile at Anne after this motion. During the first years of my law career I'd always strike this pose when I came in from work as Ryan looked on, dithering as usual. He used to offer me a drink, but now no offer was forthcoming. "Annie dear," said Mum, "will you finish?" I turned my head to catch Anne nod and walk over to her. As he fiddled with and tousled Mum's hair, I got a good look at his uniform from behind, basked in the sunlight. It was all to Mum's taste and very predictable. I couldn't think of how else Mummy would have wanted her personal maid to be attired. Anne wore a delightful black dress, all gussied up with white collar and cuffs and a pronounced trim on the modest skirt. Black tights, a necklace of pearls, and a pretty hair-cut completed the uniform. There was no better way to say it; it was extremely prissy. In a strange way, I didn't see anything odd at all with the scene of my ex-boyfriend attending my Mother dressed as he was. There was no hint of anything forced or merely put on for show for my benefit; only the nonchalant pitter-patter between a Lady and a maid who has been looking after her day-in-day-out for months on end. Anne moved around her delicately, picking up pins and combs with practiced efficiency, and appraised the state of Mum's hair-do with utmost sincerity. "I'm looking forward to meeting Matthew's family," said Mum looking at me through her mirror, breaking off my entranced stare. "And there's so many of your colleagues at the firm I'd love to meet." "There will be plenty of time, Mum. And they look forward to meeting you, you know. So they can see exactly where I get it from." Anne stopped fussing as Mum turned to me with a smile. "Get what, exactly?" "Oh, you know," I said, "they know I never take no for an answer. They think I get it from you; my "bossiness." But it's got me where I am, so I guess I shouldn't complain about my upbringing too much." "You're thanking me now for raising you right, aren't you? It was good that I was strict with you. Would you have got into Cambridge without me?" "You've certainly imbued me with something, Mum. It's served me well." Anne continued with Mum's hair, before finishing up. It looked voluminous. He must have learnt to do this from a professional somewhere. Mum made a brief inspection in the mirror, nodded as if such glamorous hair was the least she expected from her maid, and stood up. In the next few minutes Anne busied herself going back and forth from the closet, dressing Mummy in an attractive summer-dress and heels, which he knelt down to tie to her feet. Mum then sat back at the vanity and had a necklace and earrings put into place. Mum looked at me, grinning. I had been entranced by this almost choreographed chain of movements, and she noticed. "You've never seen a Ladies' Maid at work have you?" she asked me. "Only in films. Not like this. You look like you're enjoying it." "You younger ladies don't know what you're missing." "Younger ladies?" I replied. "You think it's unfashionable, don't you? Having someone there to look after you." She glanced at Anne while she was saying this. "I honestly wouldn't know where to begin to find a Ladies" maid, or what to do with one." "Well, I suppose I have to thank you for finding me this one. I don't think I'd know what to do without Annie here," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's not like you were too overjoyed when I first introduced you two." "That doesn't matter now. Anne has worked hard and so have I to bring her up to standard. She really has changed. Which is why I hope you are ok with me bringing her with me." I looked my ex-boyfriend up and down. Mum was right, Anne was unrecognisable as Ryan, despite him being a slender figure even before he'd been feminised. Now he carried himself like a credible woman; breasts, hips, and a walk that spoke of a lifetime in heels, not only a year. "I am ok with it Mum. I want you to feel your best tomorrow. I want you to feel as glamorous as I will." "I had been thinking, actually," Mum said, after a pause, "and I hope this isn't pushing the boat out too far, but I want to offer Anne to help you get into your dress and other things tomorrow." I was slightly taken back by this offer. It was not something I would have considered before then, but seeing the skill and believability of Anne's performance chiselled away at my automatic repulsion. The repulsion of having my ex-boyfriend so intimately involved with me only hours before my marriage to another man. "She's an expert at these things," Mum continued, "and could certainly tackle a bridal makeover." "And how would Annie feel about that?" I asked, looking in Ryan's direction. "It will be my pleasure, madam," he said, after an uncomfortable pause. I felt an unexpected flush of frisson at this response. Ryan had been well and truly transformed. "Have you ever worked on a bride before?" I asked him, giving him what I thought to be my cutest smile. He shook his head, before Mum butted in. "No she hasn't. But she has helped me get ready for formal events dozens of times, haven't you Annie?" "Yes, my Lady." "Oh! I like that, 'my Lady'," I said jokingly. "Me too," said Mum. "I remember clearly how our old house-maid used to speak to my Grandmother, long before you were born. She always said "My Lady", exactly like that." "Were you jealous of her?" "Oh, yes, I suppose I was. She fascinated me as a little girl. She dressed like some duchess and had her Annie-maid float around her to complete the image. I remember when she used to let me wear her jewelry, or have her maid do my makeup. But this was years ago." "And now you've got your own." "Yes, I suppose I have," said Mum, "about time too. I'm getting towards her age now when she had her maid. She had someone she knew would look after her until the end of her days. I'm starting to appreciate how comforting that idea is. Although I don't expect women of your generation to feel the same way." Mum was right, but it wasn't a question of whether we could afford it, at least in the case of career women. We'd all been raised to feel a certain defensiveness with regards to our gender, and hiring a maid was only boosting the individual woman's prestige at the cost of woman's social prestige overall. But, for all that, I couldn't deny my Mother this privilege; not forgetting that "Anne" was no woman at all. "So tell me about this uniform then," I said. "It's very nice." Mum looked Anne up and down, as if to remember what clothes she'd put him in. She crossed her legs under her long floral dress, and stroked the back of her ear with a finger, causing her earrings to sway under her updo haircut. "Oh," she said, "Annie's uniform. I haven't given it much thought for so long. She looks pretty in it doesn't she?" Anne moved his hands behind him, flouncing the skirt of his apron and dress. He looked out the window as we two women investigated his attire. "I loved it when I first saw her in it," Mum continued. "It was actually Mary from Church who gave me the idea to put Annie in a proper full uniform like this." "Have I met this Mary?" I asked. "I don't know. But we've become friends quickly. She's a clever lady. Anyway, Anne would look after us quite a lot, and that was after I started making her dress as a woman. She was wearing a lot of my old clothes at that point, old dresses or skirt-suits, I would say quite smart. Mary and I would have her model things for us. Mary has daughters but they're not the kind to humour her like this. Anne had no objections though." "I'm sure," I said smirking. My gaze moved from Anne to Mum, who was now dangling her shoe on her toes, bobbing it up and down on the end of her crossed legs. She was animated, evidently enjoying recounting the story. "Now Mary is the head of all the am-dram things at the church - nothing I'd ever take part in - and she'd bring these old costumes to my house, for us to dress Annie up. At first our favourites were the sort of Disney Princess dresses you might expect hidden away in a costume trunk somewhere. Getting your drinks served by Cinderella is a hoot, let me tell you. Big hoop-skirts, that kind of thing. Anne was very patient with us and wore whatever surprise Mary brought without complaint." "Wait, what's a hoop-skirt?" I asked. "You know those old-fashioned dresses with the big round skirts? One of those. Held up by hoops, with petticoats. But that's not important. To get back to the maid uniform; what happened was that Mary came over one night with a suitcase. Now Annie's doing her thing as usual, not in a hoop-skirt but just in one of my skirts again, doing laundry probably. She goes to greet Mary at the door as I expect her to, while I'm watching television. They sneak upstairs together - I'm none the wiser - and without my knowledge Mary gives Anne a total make-over and has her in this gorgeous maid's costume. They appear at the door to the lounge together for me to see and I'm just so excited by it. It was one of those victorian ones, probably from the Importance of Being Earnest or something. Floor-length, tight waist and bodice, with a cap, an apron and adorable heeled boots. Oh, it was wonderful." I laughed as my Mum wound herself up with her story. "I'm sure Anne loved it," I said sarcastically. Mum gave me a knowing look. "Well I loved it. I got up and hugged the two of them once I saw her in it. Fussed with Anne's dress far too long - they spent a lot of money on the costume, that was obvious - and had her in it for the rest of the night." "So you finally realised that you'd made Anne your maid, and that just confirmed it." "Maybe that's what happened," Mum replied, "I suppose something like that. Well then, after that, when Mary came round (which she did quite regularly), Anne would be out of my clothes and into the Maid's dress and apron. I even got her a corset so the bodice fit properly." "You can still get those?" "Of course you can. I thought you'd know that. They make modern ones now. But this was a traditional style one with laces." "Right," I said, seeing Anne shift uncomfortably, still stood up in his heels. "You know," said Mum to Anne suddenly, "why don't you go and get the dress and things to show Tabby?" The hesitance on Anne's part was palpable. After an uncomfortable couple of seconds, she gave a slight bow, a "yes my Lady," and traipsed off to the closet doors, around the other side of my Mother's large double bed. The doors opened outwards, revealing my Mother's clothes, and several conspicuous dress-bags, one of which Anne now unhooked and carried over to the bed, resting on his palms. The bag was soon unzipped, and Anne hooked the clothes-hanger on his fingers and let the dress hang to its full-length beside him. It certainly looked authentic, all ribbons and lace. "Wow," I said, "and Mary just let you have this?" Anne nodded. "Yes madam." Mum butted in; "she was very nice about it. She knows Anne will serve her in it. She likes that almost as much as I do. It was certainly a good trade for her." Anne put the dress back down neatly on the bed, walked back to the wardrobe on Mum's instruction and brought back a severe looking corset. "You really have Anne wear that, Mum?" "Annie needs it with that dress," she said, matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't let her in it without a corset nor without a proper slip." "Have you actually ever worn one of those things yourself, Mum?" Anne looked relieved that I'd asked that, and waited on her answer. "Nothing like that," Mum replied, "but back in my day women wore full girdles. Those were no joke either. But we got on with it just fine." "Jesus Mum." "What?" "Oh, nothing," I said. "And I suppose Anne has got stuff on like that underneath the dress she's got on now?" "Well yes, but don't you wear shapewear regularly?" "Yes, but not at home." "Anne works at a home. Maids don't get a chance to kick back like your kind of 'professional.'" "Oh, nevermind that. She's not in a corset now is she?" Mum looked almost guilty. "She's in one of my old girdles, if you must know." I laughed to myself at Mum's predictability, then stood up and walked over to Anne, like a panther hunting prey. Anne put the corset down on the bed and stood rigidly, waiting for me, looking almost childlike, as if waiting for a punishment. I could see the slenderness of his waist where the ribbon of his apron hemmed in his dress at the join of bodice and skirt. I put my hands around his waist and felt the firmness. Again when I looked into his eyes, he averted his gaze. "You know what you like," I said, having turned to look at Mum. She smiled, and I returned it, letting go of Anne's waist. I smartened up his apron skirt for him, in a kind of playful but humiliating generosity. I sat back down, resuming the authoritative cross-legged pose. Anne had blushed noticeably. "So, before we got distracted," said Mum, "I said we had Anne in her victorian dress when Mary came over. But she'd always be in my clothes when Mary wasn't here. Old skirt-suits and things, I've already said. But I wanted Annie to look more professional, not 'office' professional, and it was the dress Mary brought that really persuaded me of that. And so, simply, I contacted various people to see if they could get me in touch with a company that still makes very traditional formal ladieswear. The company I contacted was high-end, that's certain. But they produced this wonderful livery, nothing you could get on the high- street. All cut perfectly, very traditional maid's uniforms." "And so Annie was born?" "Oh indeed. She looks excellent in them, as you can see. And the shoes are beautiful and practical too." "Heels?" I asked, unsubtly questioning her judgement. "Yes, heels. Women work in heels everyday, so Annie can manage too. And she has been managing since we got her in them." They were not shoes I would have worn. Round-toed, black leather pumps. A good two to three inch heel. "Now the next time Mary came back," Mum continued, "I showed her and explained to her the changes I made. She was fascinated by it. We had so much fun those early days. Annie was getting used to her new uniforms, but became so capable at looking after us Ladies. We started to have dinner parties with more ladies from church, Anne would be looking her best, and sometimes we'd get a showing of the original Victorian gown, if everyone promised to behave themselves." "So it's all pampering in the morning and evening, then dinner parties at night then, is it Mum?" "Don't you think I've deserved it?" she asked. "What has Annie done to deserve it?" came my cheeky reply. "Oh, don't play games," she said, before asking Anne to get her cardigan from the closet and sit down on the corner of the bed. Anne dutifully complied, helping Mum into the sleeves of her black cardigan before sitting, hands in his lap, on the bed, his feet barely touching the ground. "Anne likes to look after me and my friends. You always said yourself she was a quiet and obedient little thing." "Mhmm" "So, she's found a role that suits her." "And a uniform that suits her," I replied. "Well she couldn't stay in my clothes. You can't give someone a manicure in a business suit, even if you take your jacket off." "It all seems to have fallen into place for you both, that's for sure." "We had a few strokes of luck, certainly. He must have been thrilled, first of all, that a woman like you would be interested in him. Fiery and forthright, driven; qualities Annie needed in her life. Except now it's me who offers them." "Qualities like a backbone," I said. "Exactly. She needs a backbone. That's what I always say to Annie when she's upset about something or other, which happened more than I'd have liked at first." "Such as, when?" "When I first had her live and work as a woman full-time, when we agreed there was no going back to being a boy." "Oh Annie," I said, feigning exasperation, "you kicked up a fuss about that of all things? Mum and I get along as women full-time just fine." "That's what I said, too. You remember when she first came to live with me? She did surprise me by how willing she was to help me with chores and things, and also how capable she was with them, but still had lots of bad habits. It took time to iron those out. The change of clothing and manners really helped. It was very important to me that she make the change, become Annie full time. The time for refusing that kind of request had long passed. But she had brought that on herself too, I don't forget." "I remember you phoning me." "Yes. I guess she was so comfortable washing and ironing my clothes that she had the urge to dress herself up. One of my best frocks. Red with long-sleeves." "She was asking for it, basically." Annie crossed his legs, and smoothed his skirt over his black tights. He looked claustrophobic, almost gasping for air. "She's still not allowed back in that nice frock." "Wait, she asked to?" "Oh, no, Mary asked to dress him in it once, rooting through my wardrobes." "So she knew that it was her first dress?" "Not at all. I promised Annie that I wouldn't tell anyone about that, besides you." "Can't say your secret's safe, Annie dear. Not that it much matters anymore." I said. "But let's change the subject, anyway. We're here to talk about you, not my maid of all people." "I'd thought you'd forgotten!" I replied, playfully. "No, no. Your big day tomorrow. Is everything ready?" "Everything. The staff have been so helpful." "I've only seen pictures of this dress, you know," she said. "Well sorry Mummy, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." "You'll look beautiful whatever kind of dress it is. And the bridesmaids?" "Mum! Everything's ready, trust me. You'll just love it all." "And what do you say," she asked, "about Annie helping you?" "I think I would appreciate the help." I turned my eyes to Anne once again, but he did not dare look. "Hair, makeup, the dress and everything. I was going to have Emily and Sarah help, but they'll be getting themselves ready too." "So I'll send Annie over in the morning? After she's helped me bathe and dress." "I look forward to it. And will she be coming to the ceremony?" "Would you mind?" she asked. "Will she come with you?" "Yes. She'll be my companion, as usual. I'll have her in proper clothes, not dressed in her uniform." "But she will be in her uniform when she dresses me?" I expected an answer from Annie now. "Yes, Madam," he said. "She's in uniform when she's looking after me or someone I ask her to serve, which obviously includes my daughter. Especially on her big day." I did not know, then, what it was that made the offer so attractive. With the story of Annie's genesis out in the open, and given that I'd seen how he behaved around my Mother, there was something beautifully proper about him turning up to my room and handling my wedding clothes. After plans had been made between my Mother and I, we talked for a good while longer, Anne savouring the time off his feet, before we all enjoyed the hotel grounds and, later, the hotel bar. When my fiance Matthew finally turned up to join us, with his father and sister in tow, the only thing he noticed out of place was that my Mother had employed a maid in the first place, especially in this day and age. But the identity of this strange, quiet woman, Annie, was known only to my Mother and I. The sight of Anne at my hotel door the next day, dressed head-to-toe as a Victorian maidservant, ready to serve me, helped me appreciate precisely why my Mother was so overawed herself with Anne's first appearance dressed as a maid. My bridesmaids, who were already present in the room unpacking their clothes, fluttering around in their underwear, and spraying hairspray, audibly gasped at the image. Anne's hair was neatly curled, and she wore a full-skirted apron. I expected nothing else. In his hand was a valise, which I soon found out contained precisely what he needed to dress my hair and do my makeup. I could only guess the frustration Ryan must have felt, locked in his female persona, as he floated into a room full of half-dressed women. The calm of my Mother's room behind him, he tried his very best to focus on the task at hand while my bridesmaids rushed raucously around the room. I assumed the same position as my Mother had, sitting at the vanity, lifting my chin as Anne applied my foundation. I remarked upon the skill with which he did it. He did it more often than any woman I know, since he plastered Mother's face every morning, and his own makeup was even more full-on than that. My friend Laura was most intrigued by the performance. She had been close friends with my fiance before meeting me, a successful businesswoman in her own right. She had already put on her bridesmaid gown, revealing a beautiful pair of porcelain arms. Laura now watched Anne work on me, carefully managing his skirts. "Tabby, where on Earth did you find a Victorian maid?" I smiled in the mirror at her. "Anne is my Mother's maid. She doesn't usually dress like this. But Mummy said, because it's my special day, I get to have the full treatment." "My word," Laura replied. "Your Mother is a classy Lady." "Oh she can be pretentious," I joked. "Thinks herself as some kind of royalty in her retirement." "I mean, your Mum of all people would have a maid." "Oh I know. But she only hired Annie in the last year." Anne dared not enter the conversation, and prepared to paint my lips. Laura understood the dynamic, and dared not speak to Anne without my assent. "Not in 1860, then." "No," I laughed, "but it's an interesting story actually." Laura beckoned me to go on. "You know Annie would kill me if I told you." Laura looked at Anne askance, confused, but ready and willing to accept a secret. Anne fussed with her apron, straightening it out. He continued to pretend not to listen. "Killed by a maid, like in an Agatha Christie story" Laura joked. "Did I ever tell you about Ryan?" I said, getting to the point. I could almost hear Anne's heartbeat through his bodice as he stood near me. He dropped a hairpin, and bent over, corset willing, to pick it up, but Laura got there first and gave the pin to him. Laura now stood close to the diminutive figure, and looked closely at Anne's face. "Ryan?" she then asked me. "Used to be." "Used to be?" she said, looking again at Anne. "No way." "Yep." Laura stood back to look at Anne in full. The other bridesmaids were beginning to latch onto the conversation. Laura looked round at them, mouth agape. "Anne is a guy?" "Until Mum got hold of him, yes. My ex-boyfriend." It was Claire's turn to speak up now, a friend I'd known from school, who had met Ryan briefly. Memories of him must have come flooding back to her. "Wait, that's fucking Ryan?" she said. Anne was looking away from this pack, fiddling with the contents of his opened bag on the vanity desk. "It's Anne. Mum changed him into her maid last year. He's been her Ladies" maid since then." "How on earth does that happen?" said Laura. "You remember him Claire, don't you," I said, before standing up and almost lifting Anne until he stood at my side, the same height as me, though I was in hotel slippers. "Slightly. Small guy." "And?" I asked. "Did whatever you told him to, really." "And when I met Matthew, he went to live with Mum." "Your mum?" Laura asked. "Yes!" "How? Why?" Claire continued. "Because he's a spineless thing and will do anything you ask him. Anyway, he was at Mum's ironing her lingerie before she found him wearing her clothes." The girls laughed, trying not to be impolite. "And that was the end of him," I said. "And so now, what?" asked Laura, "he's just a full-time maid?" "Yup. Mum says he's indispensable. Does hair and make-up, and all sorts." "So he's some sissy crossdresser?" asked one of the other girls. "I don't know if I'd use those words" I said, "I guess so. But this is his life now. He's very experienced. Anyway, she needs to get me ready!" With that, I sat back down, and Anne finished my hair and makeup. The room was more quiet now, the girls readied themselves, but were all the while catching glances of the maid. It was soon time for me to get into my wedding dress, which only Claire and I had had a chance to see. Making full use of Anne, I sent him to the closet to bring the garment bag containing the gown. The whole room caught a glimpse of the corseted waist as he reached up to carry it. Like the gathering of animals in a nativity scene, myself and the bridesmaids circled round as Anne unzipped the bag on the bed, her scarlet painted nails on show, revealing the glorious white of the dress. Soon, the girls watched in amazement as I was fitted and clothed, like a princess, by my Mother's maid. I wore no corset, but a delightful set of bridal underwear, shimmering in lace, alongside petticoats and crinolines. It was probably very rare for Anne to be accompanied by someone who also went to the trouble to wear underskirts. But I wanted my bridal outfit to hearken back to the classic wedding dresses my Mother was so fond of. The bodice had a sweetheart neckline, elbow length-sleeves, and a wide lacy skirt. Anne knelt to fasten the straps on my heeled shoes, then flounced the skirts and neatened the layers of petticoats. No memory of Ryan remained, just a wonderful feeling of being made up and beautified for the happiest day of my life. The girls were in tears and photographs were taken. Anne retreated to the edge of the room and packed his bag. Once the original excitement was past and the girls made their final touches, attention soon turned back to Anne. "Don't you need to get dressed to?" I asked him. "Yes madam, I'll return to your Mother once I've packed up here." The girls felt an opportunity they did not want to miss. "Why doesn't she stay here and get changed with us?" Laura asked me. We were of course all in agreement, besides Anne's silence on the matter. "It's a pity we don't have another bridesmaid's dress," said Claire, smiling. "Oh, don't worry about that," I replied. "I'm sure what Mum has packed for him to wear to the wedding is beautiful in its own right. Isn't it, Anne?" He nodded, and once packed, knowing he couldn't refuse my request, headed back to my Mother's room to retrieve his outfit, his skirts rustling on the hallway carpets. The girls in the doorway waved goodbye to him playfully, as if bidding farewell from the window of a departing train. When the knock on the door came again, I knew it was my Mother. Claire opened the door and hugged her before she came in, crying, to embrace me in my wedding regalia. Anne came quietly behind her, carrying another garment bag. But there was a third guest this time, my Mother's friend, Mary. While they greeted us all, and my Mother twirled to show off her Mother- of-the-Bride outfit, including fascinator, Anne began to undress, hoping none of us was paying attention. But I was. "Mummy, I hope you don't mind," I said. "Hmm?" "The girls wanted to get Annie dressed up for the wedding too." "Oh! You told them? About us?" "I told them everything." Mum saw the delighted expressions of the girls before her eyes alighted on Anne, who was untying his apron. "Well then, that's a fun idea. Be my guests! Mary has brought something along." Anne was soon brought down to his underwear; corset, slip and stockings. He sat on the bed as the girls removed even these items, revealing a pair of budding breasts and small penis, his waist permanently moulded to a woman's form by my Mother's prescribed corsetry. Then, they began to dress him in his own underwear. In my gown, I could hardly partake in the task, but sat on the vanity chair - a throne fit for a princess - and watched the girls fit him. We had him in one of his girdles, one of my Mother's discarded items, and a waist-cincher. A full slip followed, along with tan tights. Laura fitted him with a necklace and earrings of her own. "Now girls," Mary spoke for the first time, "I've chosen the prettiest outfit for dear Annie here. She's always been so nice looking after Charlotte and I that I wanted to help her look her best." In the garment bag, which Mary now unzipped, was a gorgeous 90's style baby-blue bridesmaid dress replete with bows and frills. It was an old bridesmaid dress of my Mother's. The girls adored it, and made haste to dress Anne, making sure every ruffle and bow was properly flounced, not looking flat like it had been in my Mother's attic for twenty years. Despite the bridesmaid dress, Mary's plan was that Anne fit alongside her and my Mother, apart from the younger bridesmaids. So, Mary produced a matching broad-brimmed hat, bedecked with netting and flowers, that sat neatly on Anne's head. I knew Mary and my Mother had spent many an entertaining hour scavenging in the attic, finding clothes of hers she'd not seen worn for years. Eventually, once dressed, Anne was photographed by the girls standing between my Mother and Mary. Everyone, it seemed was finally ready. None of Matthew's female family members saw anything amiss, mixing and conversing with Mother and her companions. Anne stood holding a glass of wine in one hand (his own, for once), and a handbag, borrowed from Mary, in his other. Whether he'd rather have returned to his maid's uniform and the safety of my Mother's room instead of being in an unfamiliar but darling outfit accompanying Mother at the ceremony, I can't say. Regardless, he managed to blend in well enough. I will treasure the walk up the aisle in memory forever. I stood under Matthew's blue-eyed gaze before the Priest's instruction to kiss my new husband. As I turned to see the crowd warmly applauding, I caught the sight of my Mother, with Anne stood beside her, his hands holding his handbag in front of his skirt, a tear rolling down his face.