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Best Friends By Cassandra Morgan He was Simon. I was Garfunkel. He was Sundance. I was Butch. He was Barnum. I was Bailey. From the time Danny and I were 10 years old, we were peas in a pod, birds of a feather, brothers of different mothers. We were on the same soccer team, in the same boy scout group, in the same garage band. We went to school together.. We built a tree house together. We dated sisters. We shared a room at the same small college. Once, we both got into trouble by throwing firecrackers into the school restroom. There are friends, and there are close friends. And then there were Danny and I (Chris). You didn't see one without the other. We saw the same movies. We laughed at the same jokes. We both followed the Reds. He was best man and my wedding. I was best man at his. Often, we were mistaken for brothers, which kind of made sense. We had similar builds, the same brown hair, the same smart-ass attitudes. I slept over at his house once a week. We liked double-dating. We liked hanging out. After we were married, we still went to concerts and ballgames. We played Trivial Pursuit and Call of Duty and billiards on his family's table. He was a better hitter in baseball. He was the lead guitarist in the band; I played bass. He was more popular. But none of that affected our friendship. We were mates. And now, my wife Sarah and I were on our way to meet Danny and Maryanne, his wife, for pizza and beer. There was news, Maryanne had told Sarah. They had something to tell us. It may have been a promotion, I thought. Danny was an on-camera reporter for the local CBS affiliate, and he had long wanted one of the anchor jobs. No, Sarah said. She was willing to bet that Maryanne was pregnant. She had that glow, Sarah said. "She didn't give you any hints?" I asked. "Could they be vacationing in Europe? Danny's always wanted to go to Greece." "They could be buying a new house." "Nah. I'd know if he was looking. Maybe they won the lottery?" "Maybe they can buy dinner then. I'll bet he's being arrested. He's in the mafia, I bet." "Don't be silly." "Silly is all I've got." "Damn. What could it be?" "I'll bet you're right. I bet she's pregnant.You ready to be an uncle?" "I'm ready for anything." We arrived at the restaurant, and already, Danny and Maryanne were sitting in the corner, a pitcher of beer in front of them. The beer hinted that she wasn't pregnant. Danny and I bumped fists. Sarah and Maryanne leaned over to embrace each other. Sarah and I slid into the vacant chairs. "I can't believe the damn Reds," Danny said, glancing at the overhead TV. "They still have no bullpen. And it's the most important part of a team." "Yeah. You can't score every inning. Where do they find those clods? At the damaged rotator cuff store?" And it went on like that for a few minutes. We talked about sports, about work, about music. We debated the headlines, although none of us really cared. Sarah liked Maryanne's dress. Maryanne liked Sarah's shoes. Finally, I looked at Danny. "So what's the big news, Mysterio?" I asked. "Um...well, you're going to hear about this anyway..." Danny said. Maryanne leaned forward. She grinned and whispered. "Are you ready for this?" "Oh, for fuck's sake," Sarah said. "Out with it." Maryanne looked at Danny, then back at us. She exhaled loudly, and then she said it. "Danny wears dresses," she said. Huh? Of all the words she could have said, this one knocked me out. Danny? My pseudo brother? My best friend? I looked at him, and he simply sat there with this strange look on his face. "He....he what?" "Shhh," Maryanne said. "Danny wears dresses," she repeated. "Well, he wears all women's clothing. Skirts. Blouses. Bras. Everything." "Only sometimes," Danny said. "But every now and then, yeah, I'm a girl." "Shit," Sarah said. "I should have known. You have that feminine aura about you." "How the hell would you know?" I said to Sarah. "I didn't know, and I grew up with the damn guy. I mean....you're still have...you're still a guy, right?" Danny nodded. "Of course I'm still a guy." "For now," Maryanne said. "Do you mean .... you wear dresses at a costume party? Are you in a play?" Danny blushed. "It's not an act," he said softly. "It's who I've always been." "Really?" Sarah said. "So how often do you wear dresses?" "Oh, a couple of times a week," Danny said. "Sometimes more. Sometimes I just...get in a mood." "It's damn near every day," Maryanne said. "He's cute. Wait til you see him when he's wearing his makeup. Well, her makeup." I couldn't think of anything to say. Then I blurted out "Why would I see him like that?" "Because he's your friend, Chris, He's kind of vulnerable right now. He'd like your approval." "Chris, I've talked to Out magazine.," Danny said. "They're going to do a piece on the TV reporter who's a ... well, a TV reporter. My work knows all about it. They think it'll help in the ratings. I know it will help me." "Jesus....how long have you been doing this?" "Damn near forever, Chris," Danny said. "Since I was a kid. I had a older sister, Abby, and she had clothes, and well, I liked it. It made me feel...pretty." "You never said a word. Not even to me." "You are kidding?" Danny said. "I wouldn't say anything, especially not to you. You're my best friend. Hell, I would have died if you found out. I wasn't ready for anyone to know back then. I could barely admit it to myself." "And now?" Sarah said. "I think it's time," Danny said. "If I'm ever going to do it, has to be now. There is a book deal in the works and everything.." Sarah looked at Maryanne. "You knew?" "Yeah, I knew. Not long after we got married, Danny told me. He was a scared little girly-girl. But I thought it was funny. Well, maybe funny isn't the word. But I was intrigued. We started playing around in the bedroom, and one day, he got up and put on a skirt. Just like that, she was Dana." "Dana?" "Yeah," Danny said. "She calls me Dana." "You call yourself Dana, girlfriend. Be honest." We sat in awkward silence for a minute. At one point, I saw Sarah staring at me out of the corner of her eye. I ignored it. I just tried to concentrate on saying the right thing. You never want to be offensive. I kept looking an Danny, trying to imagine him as a woman. He had always been a pretty boy, I guess you'd call it. Long lashes and high cheeks and shaggy brown hair. But I swear, I never once thought he was anything but a guy. And Maryanne was the perfect girl-next-door. They are the perfect couple. What would happen to them? Damn, I never would have thought Danny had a secret. It was tough enough keeping my own. * * Is this the point where I say, "me, too?" When I was a teenager, my favorite dress was blue. It was a little cotton shift, not particularly elaborate, but it fit me better than any of my sister's other clothes. When she went to college, she had left several outfits and a pile of underwear, but none of it hugged me the way that blue dress did. I felt feminine as I zipped it up, enjoying the way it felt as it cascaded over me. I was 15, as I recall, and like a lot of younger siblings of older sisters, I was curious. Patricia had a long-line bra -- I suppose it went with with this rose-colored gown in her closet -- and that gave me some shape when I wore it. But nothing beat that blue dress. I was different than Danny. For me, it was just play-time. As a kid, I never had access to makeup - not even lipstick. I didn't do anything with my hair, and jewelry was out of the question. I didn't have breast forms. Or heels. But for a couple of months -- until I outgrew the dresses -- I experimented. I was a one-man role play. And, yeah, it was thrilling. I liked the way it felt. A thousand kids play similar games. They aren't always boys who want to live as girls. They're just playing. Hell, if an older sister had left an Army uniform, I imagine I would have been marching around her room and practicingjsalutes. As it was, I would put on the blue dress and pose in front of the mirror. I never suspected that across town, Danny was doing the same thing. Only he was more serious than I was. That was the part that really threw me, as Danny came out to Sarah and me that night at Killer McGee's. Because, just for a bit, I had walked in the same footsteps. But guys don't talk about that stuff. They talk about sex and baseball and pretty girls. But now, I could feel the old familiar tug at my soul. If Danny can dress, I thought, hell, why couldn't I? Was he living the life I could have had? Would I have had the courage to come out, too? Deep down, was I a little jealous? Was cross-dressing a matter of degrees where some catch it worse than others? Down deep, where guys keep their secrets, I still thought about it a lot. I watched all the movies, even the ones in foreign languages. I read the stories. I just didn't dress. Not anymore. Oh, Sarah knew about me. She had talked to Patricia, who had left some of her clothes at home intentionally when she went to OSU. But I wasn't a real transvestite, not like Danny. I hadn't been in a dress in 14 years. I kind of thought of myself as a transvestite on ice. I still had the curiously, the yearning, but I was on the inactive list. "I thought you were going to tell your own story to Dana," Sarah said. "My story is over," I said. "Dana's is just starting. "Maybe yours is over," she said, grinning. "Maybe it isn't. Dana's going to need a friend in the coming weeks. You two could play dress-up together. It would bring you closer than baseball." "Very funny," I said. "I'm not laughing," she said. "You know, I always thought that you two were kinda...close." She flipped her wrist in an exaggerated motion. "What the hell does that mean?" "Well, were you girlfriends? Did you rub lips? You can tell me. I won't mind." "Sarah, I swear. I had no inkling that Danny....that Dana ... liked to dress up. He didn't have any idea that I played around for a couple of months. And, no, Dana and I were never together...that way." "Huh," she said. "You could have done worse." "Can you just stop?" "Admit it. You guys had a kind of a relationship...." "We did not!" "I don't mean a sexual relationship. But you were so close. You told each other secrets. You had the same chemicals surging through your bloodstreams at the same time. You both dressed in your little baseball uniforms. Tell me, do you think you two became friends by accident? Maybe you sensed you two both wanted to be girls, like gay guys hang around before they realize they're into each other. Maybe you were drawn to each other like birds of a feather boa." "Sarah,...please stop. This is weird for me. I want to keep being Danny's friend. I'm not the kind of asshole who turns on someone. We live in a judgmental world, so I know some people will. But that's as far as it goes. I don't want to be ... one of those." "Too bad," Sarah said. "Your ass is kind of cute." "Leave my ass out of this," I said. "Your ass does nothing for me," Sarah said. "But I can't speak for Dana." * * On Saturday night, two days before the article was scheduled to come out (like Danny), Sarah and I showed up at their door for dinner. We had brought a nice bottle of wine. "Good," Maryanne said. "You're here. Dana will be down in a minute." "Um, do you always refer to him Dana these days?" "Her. I call her Dana. I call her that when it feels right." "Shit, Maryanne," I said. "How are you dealing with all of this?" "It hasn't hit the fan yet," Maryanne said. "But I love Dana, and I want her to be happy. If that means she wears cotton in the shape of a dress rather than cotton in the shape of pants, what's the big deal? When she's naked, we're still us. Do you know what I mean?" "But it's more than that," Sarah said. "Other people will make comments. Other people will call her -- and you -- names. The outside world can be a bitch." "What can I do? Divorce him? Hell, I don't want that. So I'll have a thick skin, and we'll adapt. It's the only choice we have. What else can you do?" "Do you go out him as a girl?" Sarah said. "Like a date?" Maryanne laughed. "We've been out a few times," she said. "And yes, I've been to bed with Dana. But for the most part, I try to give Dana her space to let her work through things. She's learning to be a modern woman, you know?" We heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The three of us turned as Dana walked into the room. And ... wow! She looked the same, but she looked different. She was wearing a short yellow dress, and a short blonde wig, and her makeup was expertly done. She had long, silver earrings and a gold bracelet on her left wrist. Her nails were long and red. She moved femininely, and her voice was higher than I expected. "Meet Dana," Maryanne said, grinning. Dana smiled at us, her face lowered so she peered up through her bangs. She had on dark red lipstick. "Hi, guys," she said shyly. "Well hubba, hubba," Sarah said. "Damn, you look hot. Doesn't she look great, Chris?" "Um...yeah, I guess," I shifted my weight from one foot the other, fidgeting. "Turn around, girl," Sarah said. "Damn, you are pretty enough to make the rest of us cry. I love your earrings." "Thank you," Dana said. "Do I look okay, Chris?" I looked at her, struggling for something to say. Sarah elbowed me hard ."You...you look fine, Danny," I said. "I mean Dana. Shit. I"m sorry.. I'm just stunned to see you like this. Do you... go out like this?" "I've been out," Dana said. "A few times. But it's not always about being seen. Sometimes, we just watch TV." "Christ. Do...can guys tell?" "Some guys," Dana said. "The right guys seem to be able to tell." "The right guys?" I said. "Yeah, guys," Dana said. "I know you're Idying to ask. I guess you'd say I'm bisexual, Chris. Let's just let all the secrets out at once, huh? Does that bother you?" "Um, well, how does Maryanne feel about that?" I asked. "Maryanne feels fine," Maryanne said. "I've come to a decision. When Dana dresses up, she doesn't wear her wedding ring. It's too masculine. So if she doesn't have on her ring, well, our marriage is suspended. We still love each other, but when Dana is dressed, we're not married. Does that make sense?" "Shit," I said "Whatever works for you two," Sarah said. "So if Dana is wearing panties, someone else can get into yours?" Maryanne laughed. "That about sums it up," Maryanne said. "We think it's very grown-up of us. Right? And I'm free to look around, too. No big deal." "Shit," I said. "What do you do about your voice?" Sarah asked. "Damn. I have a thousand questions. Do you shave your body? Are you going throw your boy clothes away? Do you want surgery?'" "Slow down Sarah," Dana said, chuckling. "We have a voice consultant at the station. He's helped. I'm always going to have a smoker's voice, kind of deep, but I can pass. Want me to talk dirty? What were the other questions? Yeah, I shave. I haven't planned any surgery, but I do take pills. Hormones." "God, I feel like I'm prying." Sarah said. "Just ask what you need to know," Maryanne said. "We're tired of secrets." "Shit," I said. "Will you stop saying that?" Sarah said. "It's annoying." "Let him get used to it," Dana said. "I mean, most guys can't imagine what it's like to wear a dress. Chris will be okay when he gets used to it." "He may be used to it quicker than you think,' Sarah said. I shot her a look. "Chris, you're my oldest friend," Dana said. "I hope this doesn't change that. I still want to watch ballgames with you. I want to go get a beer with you. We can still keep the best parts of being friends." "Um...of course we can, Dana," I said. "This threw me for a loop, that's all. But I hope you knew I wouldn't be a bigot." "I was nervous," Dana said. "But you never have been an idiot." "Are you....going to wear a dress to work?" Sarah asked. "Are you going to have surgery? Do your parents know?" "Yes, I'm going to wear a dress to work," Dana said. "Or a women's suit, maybe. This is me. The surgery question is still open-ended. I'd say no, not yet. But I'd like to have some cleavage, you know. Yes, my parents know. They weren't as surprised as I thought they'd be." "Are you one of those sissies? Are you going to be on the Drag Race show? Do you sleep in a nightie?" Sarah kept firing questions. She was awfully interested in Dana's lifestyle. And, well, it was fascinating. Dana kept smiling and kept talking, as if she were finally uncaged. "Are those tits yours?" I asked, looking at Dana's chest. Sarah hit me on the arm. "No, silly. No time. These are high grade breast forms." "Do you go to tranny bars?" Sarah asked. "Well, a lot of girls consider 'tranny' to be offensive. But. Yeah, there are trans bars. Thank God. It's the one place I can breathe normally." "How much clothing do you have?" Sarah wanted to know. "Not enough. But some. You want to see?" "Of course I do," Sarah said, heading toward the stairs. "I have a question," I asked. "It's very important." "Yeah?" "Who's going to wind up as the Reds' closer this year? I mean, really?" Dana laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal. We were just two buddies talking baseball. The tension had left the room. "If I wasn't married, I'd kiss you," Dana said, grinning. "Ahem," Maryanne said. "You aren't wearing your ring, you know?" * * The following Friday, Dana and I got together to go to Wing Man's to watch the Reds' season opener. The article was out by then, and Dana was the talk of the town. Her face was everywhere; she made the front page of the Post three days' running. Now, she was at the bar, dressed in a jean skirt and a burgundy top. Her breasts, her hair, her makeup, made her the most feminine creature in the joint. Still, there were whispers. Some in the crowd recognized her. I sat there in a blue shirt and khaki pants. "Is it...embarrassing for you?" I asked. "Some, I guess," Dana said. "The internet hasn't been kind. It doesn't take a lot of courage to insult people on the internet. Some people wish a painful death on me." "Morons," I said. "Don't worry about them." "I was worried about you, Chris. I didn't know how you'd take it. I was scared. You can't imagine." "Um...I can imagine," I said softly. "You aren't as alone as you might think" "What are you talking about, Chris?" "Okay, here goes," I said, talking a deep breath. "I have a confession, too. Dana....when I was a teenager, I played some in my sister's clothes. It wasn't for long, you weren't the only one who tried on dresses and panties. I know it's not the same thing, and I grew out of it. But I thought you ought to know." Dana nodded slowly. "I think it's more of the same thing than you think," she said. "You had an older sister, too. You had the same urge to dress up. Did you stare into the mirror like I did? Did you think about being pretty?" "Endlessly," I laughed. "I was one ugly girl." "I bet you weren't," she said. "Did you like it?" "Kind of," I said. "It was a little ... naughty. Taboo, you know? The panties felt wonderful. But I outgrew the clothes I had, and I stopped." "Funny," Dana said. "I tried to stop once or twice, too. But I took one more step. I started buying my own clothes. That's the difference between you and me. One small step, and you could have been me. One different decision, and I could have been you." I let that sink in for a moment. Was he right? Was it that simple? One person stops at a warning light, one rushes through the intersection. "I would have loved to have dressed with you, Chris," he said. "It would have been great to have someone to confide in, to share feelings with.It wouldn't have been so ... lonely. Instead of Fred and Barney, we could have been Wilma and Betty." "Can I be Betty?" I said. "No, no," he said. "I'm Betty. I'm prettier. Boys are going to like me better." I laughed. I looked at Dana. I guestured to a baling man on the other side of the room. "Do you really think about guys?" I asked. "I mean, do you have sex with guys?" "Yeah, there's that," Dana said, giggling. "You know, I hardly ever think about guys except when I'm in a dress. Then I want to sing 'It's Raining Men' and grab three or four of them. I'm very good at fantasizing." "Really?" I asked. "Really," Dana said. "Being bisexual doubles your options." "You know...when we were young, we used to have our top 10 fantasy list of girls we'd want to fool around with." "I remember." "Do you have a new list now?" "Oh, hell. I suppose so." "Let me hear it." "Ha. Well, Maryanne, of course." "Of course." "Let's see. I love Halle Berry." "She's pretty." "I love Chris Hemsworth." "Who?" "The guy who played Thor in the movies." "Ooooh. So you like muscle guys?" "Oh, yes," Dana said, laughing. "I'd put Michelle Hendly on my list." "I know who she is. I've seen Boy Meets Girl." "You have? Tell me. Did you want to kiss her...or did you want to be her? "Hey, you're the one in a skirt. Who else?" "Brad Pitt, of course. And Angelina. Laverne Cox." "She's trans, too. Isn't she?" "Yeah." "So do you like Caitlyn Jenner?" "She's old enough to be my grandmother." "Okay." "Scarlet Johansson. Johnny Depp. Ingrid Bergman, if you can have people form the past. Harrison Ford. Taylor Swift. Is that 10" "Christ, you have wide tastes." "Interesting word...taste." "Oh, stop it." Dana laughed again. "A girl likes what she likes." "You know, I'm depressed now." "Why?' "I didn't make your list." She laughed, loud and continuous. "You were an honorable mention," she said. "You'll have to try harder." "Bitch," I said. "God, I love being called that," Dana said. * * And so it went. We were friends again, only Dana was in a skirt and I wasn't. We went to movies. To ballgames. To a concert. I usually wore jeans and a t-shirt. Dana wore dresses. Hell, when she was Danny, I never cared much about how she dressed. The more I was around her, the more comfortable it became. Dana was a girl. It's funny how fast you get used to it. "Do you still think about it?" Dana said. "Dressing, I mean." I exhaled. "Some," I said. "Well, more than some. I guess it's a lifelong compulsion even after you stop doing it." "Why don't you dress up with me sometime?" Dana said. "It could be fun. I could lend you some stuff." "I'd better not," I'd say. "I've done my time in a skirt. I choose not to do it anymore." "Silly. You don't choose dressing up, it chooses you," Dana said. "If you put on a dress and like it, well, that's great. And if you don't like it, you just take it off." "It's more complicated than that." "It's really not, Chris. I wear these clothes because it makes me feel complete. You owe it to yourself to see if they make you feel the same way." "I'm afraid I won't like it." "Is that it?" "No. I'm afraid I will." * * * The following Friday, Dana wanted to go to Sparkles, a trans bar, and get a drink. Maryanne didn't want to go and, instead, suggested a boys' night/girls' night instead, except we no longer had two boys. We had Dana and we had me. "Think of it like a date," Sarah said. "It's not a date," I said. "It could be," Sarah said. "There is major sexual tension between you two." "Please stop that. We just hang out. We're just friends." "Does Dana think of it like that?" she said. "I'm sure she does." "Oh, come on Chris. Dana has it bad for you. You have to know that." "She does not." "Chris has a girlfriend!" she sang. "Chris has a girlfriend." "Hey, it's the same with you. You're going out with Maryanne. I don't accuse you two of being lovers." "Well, maybe you should," Sarah said, chuckling. "Huh?" "Don't knock it til you've tried it," Sarah said. "Do you like fish? I love the taste of fish." She made a "v" of her fingers and licked between them. "There was a playfulness to Sarah. I couldn't tell how much she was kidding, if at all. Clearly, she wanted me to believe there was something between her and Maryanne. Then, she changed directions on me. "Chris?" Sarah said. "I bought you something." "Huh?" "I bought you a gift. Come up to the bedroom. Let me show you." So I followed her upstairs. Sarah opened the closet, and I felt my breath leave my body. There, hanging in the open closest, was a navy blue dress with dark blue sequins on it. It seemed to shimmer as it reflected the light. "It's...it's a dress," I said. "Well, duh," Sarah said. "I figured if you were going to a trans bar, you could wear it. I bought heels and underwear, too. Breast forms, everything you need." "Damn it, Sarah," I said. "I'm not wearing a dress." "I guess the heels are out of the question, then?" "Jesus, Sarah," I said. "I don't do that anymore. You know I don't do that." "But if you want to, you can. I think you'd look pretty. Hell, if I don't care, what's stopping you?" My head was spinning. This was wrong. This was out of place. "Sarah, I think you're making fun of me, and I don't appreciate it," I said. "I don't wear dresses or heels. I'm just hanging out with Dana." "Do you kiss her?" "What? No, I don't kiss her." "She wants you to." "Bullshit," I said. "She likes ... other men. And other women." Sarah smiled. "Is Chrissie going to run away and hide again, like she did in high school? Is she going to stop even though she's dying to go forward? Is she going to bury her head in the sand while life goes on around her? Is she scared to be who she really is? You're a transvestite, Chris. Admit it." I tried to protest. I tried to find the words to explain. Finally, I changed the subject. "Do you want to go out for Italian tomorrow night?" "That's the problem. In this life, you can never get a straight answer from a guy who's not straight." * * That night, Sarah lay next to Chris. They had just made love, but Sarah's brain was still at work. She loved this game, the tweaking and kidding. "You could be her," Sarah said. "Who?" "You know who. You could be Dana." "What do you mean?" "I mean, if you had a little more encouragement when you were a kid. If. you'd just mail-ordered a dress or some underwear. You could be on the cover of Out. You could be coming out to the world." "This is a silly conversation." "It's not. Our lives are like Dominos, Chris. One thing leads to another." "If I was meant to be like that, I would be." "You could be yet." She got up and went to her bureau. She fished out a black nightgown, long and slinky. "Here," she said, tossing it to me. "Put this on." "No thank you." "You know you want to. Close your eyes. Think of it falling to your legs. Think of it encircling your body. Think of your little dick getting hard." "It's not little." "It's not a baseball bat, either. But it wants to be in satin, doesn't it? Do it for me, Chris. I want to see it." I was quiet for a moment. Then I slowly nodded. "Just this once." I took a deep breath, and I peeled off the t-shirt I was wearing. "The boxers, too," Sarah said. I pulled the negligee over my head and felt it fall, and I felt my nerve endings come alive, just as they had when I was younger. "Now turn," Sarah said. "Quickly. Make it sway.. That's it. Do you want some panties?" I didn't say anything, but when she tossed me a pair of black panties, I slid them on. "Now lay back," Sarah said, her hands starting to roam. "Feel my fingertips. Is that hot?" "Yes...yes." "Now say it. I am Dana." "No, I don't want...." "Say it. Fantasize." "I'm Dana," I said. "I'm a girl." "I'm Dana, and the whole world is about to know about me." "The whole world..." "You'll suck dicks, Dana. Say it. "I'll ... dicks," I said. "I want to grow my breasts. I want men to look at me. I am Dana." "I'm...I'm Dana." "No, you're Chrissie." "I'm Chrissie." "I'm Chrissie forever." "Forever," I said. "For always." * * * Three nights later, the wives met at Maryanne's house. "Okay," Sarah said. "Fess up." "What do you mean?" "I mean, what do you really think about Dana dressing up?" "I love Dana," Maryanne said. "But..." Maryanne laughed. "It took some getting used to," she admitted. "When Danny told me, I thought he was joking around. But he wasn't. He likes this stuff, Sarah. He's a nicer person in a dress. Calmer. Sweeter. Like a sister. I wouldn't change her now. Honestly." "Do your parents know?" "My mother does. I told her. She has a right to know she has a daughter- in-law." "Wow. So how long does this go on?" "I don't think there is an expiration date, Sarah. I think Dana's here for good." "Do you...worry about him leaving you?" "Her." "Do you worry about her leaving you?" "No more than any wife worries about her husband falling in love with someone else. With Dana, it might be another woman. Or another man." "You're okay with him screwing other men?" "What's fair for the goose..." Maryanne said, smiling. "Really? You've had an affair. Who is he?" "It's not a him. It's a they." "What are you talking about?' "I've been carrying on with Harrison brothers. Heard of them?" "No, should I?" "They both play for the Bengals. Defensive backs." "Two of them?" "Two is my limit," Maryanne said. "I'm not a loose woman." Sarah giggled. "Does Dana know?" Maryanne shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "We don't talk about it." Sarah grinned. This world was widening all the time, wasn't it? Everyone had secrets. "You know, Dana's not alone," she said after a moment. "What do you mean?" "I mean that Chris has worn dresses, too." "Get out of town!" "I swear. He says it didn't last long, but when he talks about it, he gets this faraway look in his eyes. I think he misses it. Want to know a secret?" "Do we have secrets?" "Ha. I guess not. I bought Chis a dress." "Really? How does he look in it?" "He hasn't worn it yet. But I think he will. I think he and Dana will be the Banger Sisters." "Shit, I'd love to see that. You think he and Dana might date guys together? Think they might fool around?" "I wonder," Sarah said. "God, that would be a hoot. Dana and Chris. Me and the Harrison brothers. And you...and who?" Sarah blushed. Then she looked Maryanne in the eye. She covered Maryanne's hand with her own. "How about you?" she said. * * "Maryanne and I are going to our book club tonight. Are you and Dana watching the game?" Sarah was making conversation as she washed the dishes. "Um, no. Not tonight," I said. "No?" "Dana wants....well, we're going to Sparkles." "The gay bar?" "The trans bar. Dana likes it there." "Yeah, how about you?" "It's quiet. It's a good place to get a beer." "Yeah? Lot of girls there?" "I suppose," I said. "Well, have fun," Sarah said. "Sarah..." "Yes, baby?" she said. "Could I...could I borrow your black dress?" Sarah laughed. "Do you want to wear my black dress, Chrissie?" she giggled. "Do you want to go out all girly? You know, you could wear your new dress." "I...I'm not ready to have mt own dress," I said. "Never mind...it's a bad idea." "I think it's a great idea. Dana needs for you to do this. Hell, I think you need for you to do this." "I'm nervous as hell," I said. "Why? The other girls in that bar were born as guys, too. And the guys are looking for girls like you. Just relax and go with the flow." "I don't have underwear," I said. "Don't say 'underwear," Sarah said. "That makes it all sound the same. Say "panties." Or "bras." Or pantyhose." "I don't have anything." "Well, it's good that you have me, isn't it? We'll work on your makeup and I'll lend you some jewelry. Tomorrow, we'll get your ears pierced if you want. We can run out now and get you a wig. Do you want to be a blonde? A redhead? So you want to be a black girl?" "I don't know what I want." "Well, discovery is half the fun, Chrissie. Nothing makes you feel as sexy as a tight dress. Now, take off that wedding ring. We're suspended for the night." "Are you kidding? I'm not going to fool around." "Honey, giving a blow job isn't fooling around. It's deadly serious. Now let's find you some lipstick. Chrissie's coming out tonight." I blushed, but I followed her upstairs. To my future. * * * Sparkles wasn't a large bar. It had a few stools and one bartender. A half dozen trans women milled about the place, talking to three or four admirers. Dana and I took a table in the corner. The ballgame was on. Even a rainbow bar had the Reds on TV. For once, the score didn't seem so important. Dana found us a table, and I sat opposite her. "Careful with your skirt, girlfriend," Dana said, laughing. "You don't want to advertise. "It's...embarrassing," I said. "You'll get over that," Dana said. "You're a knockout. Trust me." "You're prettier," I said. "Thank you for noticing," Dana laughed. "But you're pretty hot, too. Doesn't it feel great to be seen?" "I...I guess." "There is a guy at the bar looking at you, Chrissie," Dana said. "He can't take his eyes off of you." "I'm ... not ready for that." Dana looked at me quizzically. "You've never sucked a dick?" she said, as if that were more amazing than the alternative. "No," I said. "I've never done a lot of things." "Ever think. about it?" "Honestly? Well, doesn't everyone at some point think about it? Sure, I have fantasies." "Am I in them?" I laughed nervously. "Sometimes." "Chrissie, sex is wonderful. Nothing makes you feel more feminine. Nothing gives you more power than controlling a guy through his cock. It's hard and soft and sweet and strong, all at the same time. Close your eyes, Chrissie. Imagine it. I know not all transvestites are gay, but damn, it's fun. Look at the guy in the plaid shirt by the pool table. Wouldn't you like him to just ravage you? "No, Dana, I ...." "See the black guy in the corner? The one with the gray shirt? His name is Jason. I met him last week." "Did you...?" "No," Dana said. "But I wanted to. Wouldn't you? I bet he has a nice dick." I looked again. Jason raised his glass toward me, and I blushed. "Chrissie, it's just sex," Dana said. "Sex with guys is a lot like sex with women. The same intimacy. The same nerve endings. It's just different flavors. You'll do fine. There's nothing like seeing your lipstick on a man's cock." "Shit, Dana. It's my first night in a dress in a thousand years. I'm not ready to be a whore for the bar." "Oh, don't worry," Dana said, giggling. "That's not til 10 o'clock." And so we sat and drank, taking in the sensations of being out and on display. I felt self-conscious wearing a dress in public, but Dana seemed confident and self-assured. We made small-talk. We admired the dresses of the other women. After a few drinks, we played a game where we guessed which of the men were the most endowed. It was all fun until two men approached our table. "Hey pretty ladies," the taller man in the black shirt said. "I'm Bobby." "I'm Darryl," said his friend. He was a thick gold necklace like he was out of some 70s porn movie. "We just wanted to see if you two wanted to dance." I started to say no, but Dana was on her feet. She took Bobby by the hand and led him the floor. Darryl grasped my hand and we followed. His hand felt large course as it covered mine. "You sure are pretty," Darryl said. "Um...thanks, but I'm a ...you should know that I have ..." "I know," Darryl said, grinning. "It's why I come to this bar. I love trannies." He pulled me tight, and I felt his cock against my legs. My breast forms were mashed against his chest, and I could feel his breath on my neck. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the surroundings. But it felt damn good. How many times does a man have to dance with you until you've officially been picked up? All I know is that Darryl was sneaking a light kiss here and there, and his hand was on my ass. I didn't see Dana anywhere. "We should get out of here," Darryl whispered. "No, I can't," I said. "Sure you can," Darryl said. "We could go out to my truck and get to know each other. I have some beer." "I need to find Dana." "Bobby has his own truck," Darryl said, grinning. He kissed me again. His breath smelled like Wintergreen. "Your friend is probably, well, making him happy right now." "Happy?" I said, confused. "I'd love for you to blow me, Chrissy," Darryl said, his hand cupping my ass. "Please." I was confused. I had all this lust bursting out of my panties, and the night was friendly, and Darryl was handsome. We started toward the door, then out into the parking lot. There was a red Ford pickup there. To me, it looked like a honeymoon suite. "Chrissie!" I heard Dana's voice. "There you are. Where are you going?" I looked up and saw my friend. "We ...um...we...." "We were going to get to know each other better," Darryl said. "I wanted to see if she was wearing sperm-proof makeup." "Not tonight, mister," Dana said. "Not tonight." And then Dana had my hand, and we were rushing away toward the safety of the bar. After a few minutes, Dana started laughing, and I joined in. "Whore," she said. "Slut," I counted. "Trollop," she said. "Pin-cushion, I said. And we laughed. * * The next night, we returned to Sparkles. We swore that nothing would happen after our near-miss. The images of myself the previous night were still fresh. Shit. I had worn a dress in public. I had picked up a guy. I almost gave him oral sex. Was it too late to suggest again that I was done with all this cross- dressing stuff? Dana's mood was better than mine. She sat across the table. I loved my wife, but Dana was stlll the most feminine person I knew. "I guess I should tell you," I said. "There's this dress Sarah bought me." "Yeah. What label?" Dana looked delighted. "What...hell, I don't know. It's dark blue. It has sequins." "You should have worn it tonight," Dana said. "you'd look great." "I'm a frog," I said. "A pretty frog," Dana said. "If someone kisses you, you'd become a princess." "You should know, Dana. Sarah, um, made a joke that she and Maryanne were an item." "That makes sense. When's the ring's off, she has permission." "Jesus, Dana. Doesn't that bother you?" "It's just skin, Chris." She put her hand on mine. "If I have permission to sleep with other people, so should she." "I guess." "Chris," she said, changing the subject. "Why don't we dance? Not with guys, with each other. I love this song." So I rose, and Dana took my hand and led me to the floor. The song was a slow one, so she put her hands around my neck and snuggled into me. It felt...erotic. She was warm and soft and seemed to fit against me. I felt myself harden. "Tell me I'm pretty," Dana whispered. "Um, you know you are." "Not that way, silly. Like you mean it." She nestled into my neck. I could feel her breath close to mine. I could feel her breast forms mash up against my chest. She rubbed my arms. And then she kissed me. It was deep, and wet, like one of those movie kisses that never seem to end, and her tongue was a jackhammer in my mouth. Shit. How long had I wanted this only to convince myself I didn't. She tasted like cherries. She smelled like flowers. And she felt like coming home. Uh-oh. I was in trouble. * * We held each other there in the middle of the dance floor. We tried to be oblivious to the crowd, but someone had recognized Dana from television, and the whispers began. "That's Dana. Who's her girlfriend? " "I don't know, but she's gonna get lucky." "Let's get out of here," Dana said. "My house?" I said. "No. Sarah may be there." "Your house? "Maryanne." "Damn. There's a Marriott a half mile down the road. We could go there." "Okay," Dana said, taking my hand. We drove down the street and valeted the car. We walked, her hands clutching my arm, to the desk. I asked for a room and was paying. "Is...is that you? Dana? Dana Thompson?" "It's Dana! Dana, can I have your autograph?" We stood in the lobby, dying to be alone, and she signed autographs. I was just the extra chick in the room. I suddenly felt embarrassed. All of these people suspected, I realized. They knew I was going to go to bed with another person who had a penis. I blushed. I felt like running away. "Hey, lady," I looked down and a little girl was tugging at the hem of my dress. "Are you her sister?" "No..no, we're just friends." "She's very pretty," the girl said. "Yes," I said. "She is." "You are, too. Do you have a husband?" "Uh, no, I don't." "That's a shame. You'd make a pretty wife." Finally, the crowd thinned, and we made our way to the room. Dana kicked off her heels and began to unbutton my shirt. "Did you change your mind?" she asked. "No. Of course not. I'm just a little nervous." Dana kissed me, and I unzipped her dress and let it fall. She did the same. She took off her bra, and her breast forms came with it. I ran my hands over her body and traced the outline of her penis in her panties. I tugged at the waistband, and after a lifetime of guarded lust, I was looking at Dana's body. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. "Dana...is this about the clothes...or the sex....or our friendship?" "It's about all of it, Chrissie," Dana said softly. "It's about a thousand brush strokes on the canvas. It's about finding who you are, who you were meant to be. The clothes are part of that. The sex, too." I nodded. I took led her to the bed. We kissed softly, and I ran my hand over her back. She grasped my cock and started to lower her head. I stopped her, then lowered my own head. She needed to know that there was nothing off-limits, nothing I wouldn't do to make her feel better. I kissed the tip lightly. Without hesitation, I then took the bulb into my mouth. I sucked gently and she moaned. I bobbled my head until I found my rhythm, marveling at how well she fit inside my mouth. I tried to deep throat her, feeling her cock at the back of my throat. Dana's turn would come. But first, I was determined to give her the best blow job you could imagine. I stroked her rear as I bobbed my head. I ran my hands over her legs. I kissed her testicles. If this was being gay, well, that was okay, too. And then she came, a quick spurt of semen entering my mouth. I coughed and it ran out and onto her belly. She laughed. "You'll develop a taste," she said. . Dana spun on the bed so she was against my back. She pushed her cock into my ass and wiggled. It felt wonderful. "Ready to be my girl?" she whispered. And she pushed. Remember, Dana was a woman, too. But that first time, I was the feminine one. She was on top, and calling the shots, and making me see fireworks. All this time, I thought, this was me. Had I been living in denial, blocking off my desires? I was crazy about my best friend. She kissed my neck. And as we lay there, I discovered the embarrassment had gone, the shame, the guilt. All of it. She entered me slowly, to ease the initial sting. And then we moved, with sweet, tender love. My best friend was giving me the best moment of my life. And, thankfully, I would never be the same. * * In the morning, the sweet, early morning, I rose quietly. I tried to recover our clothes, which were strewn around the room. I picked up Dana's panties and sighed. I held them into the air and looked at them. "You can wear them if you want," she said quietly. I looked up, and Dana was propped up on her elbows, looking at me. "I..um...I was just picking up a bit." "Go on," Dana said. "It's okay. I can wear yours." Hell, why not? I had slept with my best friend. I had sucked her cock twice. She had sucked mine. The time for secrets, I thought, I was over. So I sat on the edge of the bed, and I pulled her red panties onto my legs. They were slick, tight...familiar. There was a place in my brain that immediately remembered the feeling. "Can you fit in my dress?" Dana asked. "We're going to wear each other's clothes?. Won't that tell Sarah and Maryanne we fooled around? "Do you think they don't know?" she said. "What does the song say? Don't dream it, feel it." Dana said. "I told you I used to dream about us playing together." I exhaled. I nodded. "There is a difference in playing together," I said. "And playing with each other." "Never, sister. Now let's go to your house and put on that dress." And so we did. We did the walk of shame back to my car, and we drove home. Neither Sarah nor Maryanne was there. What was there were mirrors, and clothes, and moments worth remembering. I was still wearing Dana's panties, but I swapped them for a white pair with blue lace. She fastened a bra around my chest, and it felt wonderful to be wearing one again. Every step was so delicious -- the hose, the dress, the makeup. I kept spinning, twirling, looking at myself in that dazzling blue dress. "Sit down, Chrissie. Let me do your makeup. You're going to be so pretty. Didn't you feel pretty last night?" "I felt...feminine. But. you felt feminine, too."" "That's who we are, Chrissie." "Dana...do you think we could ... try on some more dresses?" Dana smiled. "Will Sarah's stuff fit you?" "I think so. Most of it. Some of it. I'd like to try. and see." "Geez, girl. You're kicking the closet door open." For an hour, we went through Sarah's wardrobe, like little girls playing in the closet. We tried the blue skirt and the red dress and the the cream-colored blouse and a red cocktail dress and a Summer dress and the and the orange shorts and a black shirt with a red blouse. For 60 minutes, we were young girls at play, giggling and primping, swapping lipstick-flavored kisses.. This was me. All the years I thought I was over it I realized were life in denial. I was Dana's little sister. I was her lover. I was .... complete. And in trouble. "Well, aren't you pretty?" Sarah's voice carried across the bedroom. She stood there in the doorway, Maryanne next to her. "I guess the girls are ready to rumble, huh, Maryanne?" "I think there's a beauty contest somewhere," Maryanne said. "I think Dana might win, but Chris is going to give her a run for her money." "She's...Christine," said Dana. "Or Chrissie." "She's a babe," Sarah said. "She looks like such a girl I'm willing to cut her pay like the rest of society does." "I...I like dressing like this" I said. "I'd like to buy some more dresses. Do you mind?" "Mind?" Sarah said. "I insist on it. I think we should go to dancing tonight. Maybe find you a fella." "Or two," Maryanne said. "I...I have someone," I said, looking at Dana. We both looked guilty. "Oh, it's like that, is it," Sarah said, taking Maryanne's hand. "Well, we'll just have to swap partners for the evening." "You two are... together?" "I don't know. Does licking a woman's pussy make you together?" Sarah said, snickering. "Twice," Maryanne said. "You did it twice." "Give me a chance, and I'll go for three," Sarah said. * * Is there such a thing as a four-way marriage? I was Sarah's, and I was Dana's, and on occasion, I was Maryanne's. Mostly, though, I was mine, a tag-along transvestite making up for the lost years. I discovered I was more of a bottom than Dana -- she was still prettier. But she was my friend, my mentor. For the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of tomorrow, no matter what I chose to wear. For the four of us, marriage was a matter of polygamy. We didn't need a ceremony to pronounce us as sister wives. It just fit. And if Maryanne still wanted to dally with the Harrison brothers, that was okay. Hell, Jalen was kind of nice-looking in profile. I wouldn't mind him flipping up the back of my dress sometime. We grow up with rules, with social conventions, with fears and taboos. We fear what we dare not dream. In the end, we are all people. We're capable of making each other happy, or we're capable of inflicting misery. It can be a hard world, or it can be a soft life. I knew which way I wanted to live. And I knew who I wanted to live it with.