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Ella Prologue: "Are you absolutely certain?" I momentarily stared at my roommate. The last six months have not been easy. For either of us. We've been getting on each other's nerves for sometime now, crammed into a tiny loft apartment intended for a single guy with few possessions, which is pretty much what I was a year ago when I rented this place. "Yes," I sighed, maybe not being completely honest. When I let Liam crash here for "just a few days", I knew that wasn't the likely outcome. Isn't that what usually happens in these situations? I barely even knew him. We were just acquaintances who happened to share something in common. I could've said "no", I probably should have. But I didn't. But now, our living arrangement has become untenable. With both of us primarily working from home, we need to find a bigger apartment before we kill each other. And this may be our best option despite the rather odd terms of the lease. It certainly has the all the extra space and amenities that two women could ever want. Chapter 1: Jenna and Me Everything had started out so well. I seemed to be living a charmed life. That is, until about a year ago. My idyllic childhood consisted of myself, one slightly older sister, and two loving, albeit quirky parents. Both of my parents are teachers. Mom teaches high school art, while dad teaches middle school science. Both have a passion for trying new things. Their curiosity has almost no limit, and they'd instilled that in their offspring. For example, one day when I was around six or seven years old, I was playing with my sister Alicia. She had just returned from a birthday party for one of her school friends and was showing me the contents of her grab bag full of party favors that she'd won playing various games. While I was inspecting her collection of girl's pretend makeup, plastic jewelry, and stuffed animals, Alicia was in the process of changing out of her princess party dress and back into her normal, everyday clothes. "Why are you changing, that thing not comfy or something?" I innocently asked. Alicia simply told me that "Yes, it's hard to run in and besides, it's itchy." I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "Ok, if you say so." I guess that statement sounded like a challenge and something that needed to be tested and verified, the way our parents had taught us. Shortly thereafter, I was wearing Alicia's long blue tulle dress and her sandals with a small narrow heel. I was also balancing a plastic tiara on my head, while my lips had been covered with red lipstick. "Ok, now we'll race around the room, ready, set, go!" Alicia yelled. Now normally, I had a slight edge in speed, but Alicia had been right, not only was I distracted by the scratchy fabric covering my legs, but she had dashed across the room before I'd taken more than a couple of steps, tripping, and falling on my face. The commotion was loud enough that both parents were soon investigating to see what we were up to. "Oh my! Aiden! Are you ok? You're bleeding!" Mom shrieked before discovering that it was only cheap lipstick, smeared across my face during my fall. After listening to our explanation, we were both congratulated for our experimental design and treated to ice cream. There were no admonitions for violating gender stereotypes. Dad even told me I looked pretty. So a few years later when Mom came home early and discovered me in her bedroom trying to walk in a pair of her high heels, she once again treated it as normal curiosity, even something to be encouraged. After that, we would have occasional chats about my interest in wearing female clothing. Actually, our chats often covered other aspects of being female. When Alicia got her period, I think I knew more about menstruation than most of the girls in my class (although I was smart enough not to point this out to anyone at school). By the time I was in high school and later in college, any occasion that afforded the opportunity to wear a costume (Halloween, a school play, cosplay), was an opportunity for me to dress as a girl. To those outside of my family, I explained it away as just one of my many "hobbies", now cognizant of the sad fact that most people were not like my parents and sister. The one person outside my family who knew that my hobby extended beyond the sporadic costume event was my college sweetheart and eventually my wife, Jenna. I told Jenna on our first date about my crossdressing. I had long since come to the realization that my feminine side was a permanent part of who I was. I also knew that I needed to be honest about that, both with myself and with anyone I was involved with. I had also told other first dates, but Jenna was the first girl I had a second date with. For several years, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have found someone who was so accepting, even encouraging. Jenna would buy us matching outfits that we'd wear when we frequented local LGBTQ hangouts. She even enjoyed our weekly "lesbian trysts", romping around the house in our lingerie trying to find a new place to have sex. Oh yes, the house. That was probably the first indication of a glitch in my charmed life. When we graduated from college, I was offered a job as an entry level software developer. Jenna was offered a job as a vice president of operations. Which was not at all surprising since it was at her father's manufacturing company. Needless to say, Jenna out earned me. By a lot. By an enormous lot. Most of my money went to paying off student loans, so Jenna paid for everything else. A few days before our wedding, her father's attorney called me to setup an appointment to come in and sign the prenuptial. I guess Jenna forgot to tell me about this small detail. She was after all, the bride, which meant she was conveniently busy doing "bride stuff", like attending an out of town spa weekend with her bridesmaids where she was apparently unreachable by phone, because she never answered my calls. On the way to the attorney's I reasoned that Jenna had assets to protect and I didn't. I didn't learn until it was too late that our house was actually her house. Her parents gave it to her as a wedding present and not to us. Of course it was covered by the prenup. The second glitch occurred when Jenna discovered that on days when I worked from home, I worked as Ella, my feminine self. That in itself was not the glitch, she was already aware of that, the glitch was that I was in the middle of a video conference and everybody was calling me Ella. I had come out at work and that I intended to transition. But I hadn't discussed it with Jenna yet. I naively believed it wasn't going to be a problem. But it was. Jenna tearfully told me she loved Ella, but couldn't be married to Ella. I guess I understood. It broke my heart, but I understood. I did try to bring up the subject of alimony, since I had become quite used to the lifestyle that Jenna provided. I should have read the fine print. Of course that too was covered by the prenup. I left the marriage with what I had brought into it, nothing. Wait, that's not exactly true, I had all the clothes that Jenna bought for me. I also had an additional year on her health insurance and my first prescription for HRT. So while I might have been a trans woman living in a barely affordable loft apartment, at least I was a well dressed trans woman. Oddly enough, I still felt a little charmed. Chapter 2: Emily and Me After the divorce, I gradually eased myself back into some semblance of a social life. I reconnected with some old friends. Back in college, before I met Jenna, I had joined a local group for straight cross dressers. It was the first time I ventured out dressed as Ella and not as a costumed version of a woman. Although I was by far the youngest, most of the members were like me, people who just wanted to get together and be themselves. Sometimes that meant sitting around in someone's basement rec room, sipping Chardonnay, chatting about everything from 'what some celebrity wore', to 'where did you get those adorable shoes', to 'makeup tips', and even all the way to 'human rights and hate crimes'. But mostly is was about going out in small groups and shopping and dining in safe settings. While the group labeled themselves as "straight cross dressers", most of us were unsure what that really meant. Even though I was now living full time as a woman and on hormones, I was more than welcomed back into the fold. Then seven months ago, a new youngest member joined. Liam was just out of college and he was the most beautiful cross dresser I had ever seen. As Emily, she was a petite five foot five, curvaceous creature. She exuded femininity. It was hard to believe that there was a misplaced y- chromosome in that body. Almost as hard to believe was that she was not on hormones and not living full time as a woman. I'm certain I was not the only one aroused by Emily's arrival. But the one inviolable rule of the group, no sexual relations between members, meant purging all prurient thoughts. That became easier once I decided that a significant percentage of Emily was makeup, padding, and an expensive wig. Oh, and there was the fact that she was engaged. To a woman. To a woman who supported and encouraged her cross dressing. I almost sarcastically wished her luck with that, but decided at the last second, that would be seen as a remark by a jealous and bitter old bitch. Then, as if on cue, a month later, texts and emails began circulating among group members about Liam either being tossed out by his fianc? or escaping from her. There seemed to be some confusion over the details. Regardless, the word was out that he needed a temporary place to stay. From the tone of most of the messages, they were being sent as a warning and not a plea for help. Despite the fact that most of members were married with children and really couldn't take in Liam, I was disappointed with them. So when I finally got the text from Liam asking for help, I replied "Yes, you can stay with me for a couple of days." I vividly remember how much different Liam looked when he showed up at my door the next day. In boy mode, he looked like one of the lost boys from Peter Pan. An ill-fitting t-shirt, perhaps from a time when he was a few sizes larger, baggy jeans from the same era, unwashed straggly hair hanging down to his shoulders, and traces of facial hair on a makeup free face, gave absolutely no hint of the beautiful girl I was used to seeing. Only the pale blue toe nails and the pink flip flops convinced me that this was indeed Emily. "I'm so grateful that you're doing this," she said as her voice cracked and momentarily lost its feminine pitch. I could see tears forming in the corner her eyes. "That's ok, I'm glad I can help you.... is it Emily or Liam?" "Emily please." "Ok Emily, let's get you settled in first, then I'll open a bottle of wine and we'll have nice long chat, just us two girls. Ok." Emily nodded yes and dropped her suitcase case on the floor. She still had two more suitcases and her computer out in her car, so I told her to bring everything in while I tried to figure out how to open the hide-a- bed sofa in the living area. I'd been there six months and never had a reason to use it as a bed. I was pushing and pulling on different parts of the sofa trying to find where the bed was hiding. I was starting to suspect this wasn't a hide-a-bed and that the landlord had lied to me, when Emily returned. She smiled and then confidently walked over and grabbed a handle under the front of the sofa, a handle that had somehow eluded me. Seconds later, voila, we had a bed. After we stacked her stuff next to the sofa bed, I took a quick look around, sighed and said, "I was about to give you the grand tour, but you can see the whole place by just standing here. My bedroom is up those stairs, in the loft. Bathroom is over there, next to the kitchen nook. Ah, that's it, thanks for your attention. This concludes our tour." Emily actually laughed and seemed relieved. I began to imagine how difficult the past several days had been for her, just based on my own experience. I had to admit to myself that I was dying to hear the details, but I knew that it was solely Emily's decision if and when to share them with me. "I'd like to clean up a bit and get out of these god awful clothes. Would that be ok with you?" She tentatively asked, like she was asking for permission from an authority figure and not a friend offering help. "Of course. There are towels in the bathroom and feel free to use any of the toiletries. Tell you what, I'll pop a frozen pizza in the oven and open that bottle of wine I mentioned. When you're ready, just meet me at the kitchen counter, look for a tall brunette, you can't miss me." Another smile formed on her face as she picked up the smallest of her suitcases and headed to the bathroom. Moments after the the oven timer expired, Emily, an Emily I was more familiar with, emerged from the bathroom. "You clean up nicely," I said as she sat on the bar stool next to me. It wasn't the the seductive glam Emily, but it was a very attractive young woman in a simple maxi dress, her makeup everyday chic, and her hair blow dried into luxurious waves of honey blonde hair flowing around her face. Once again I felt a wave of arousal about to crash over me. But I somehow managed to gain control of my emotions knowing that this temptation would only be here for a few days. Because Emily still looked a bit stunned by whatever had happened to her, I just started babbling about my own reversal of fortunes vis-?-vis with Jenna. A slice of pizza and a second glass of wine later, Emily opened up about her ex-girlfriend. Like Jenna and me, they met at school. However, while Jenna was a willing and playful partner (that is until I wanted to transition), Emily's girlfriend was abusive and dominant. As soon as she saw how Liam could transform himself into a seductively beautiful young woman, she began to take control of his life. Growing up, Liam had always been aware that he felt different than other boys his age. He knew something was wrong with his body. His parents were pragmatic. They apparently decided to ignore Liam and focus on their other five "normal" kids. One dud out of six wasn't too bad they reasoned. That was the message they seemed to always convey. So as Emily began to emerge online in YouTube videos and on other social media, her parents just waited until she left home for college. On a positive note, what they lacked in emotional support, they made up for in financial support. At least Emily has a degree in art and design without incurring any debt. During college, Emily explained that she still went by "Liam" and presented herself as an androgynous but feminine leaning boy because she wasn't confident enough to be Emily full time. That was who the ex- girlfriend met at a campus hangout one night during Emily's senior year (I noted that Emily never mentions her by name). She was the first person that ever gave her the encouragement to be herself. At least that's what Emily thought at the time. It turned out the ex was only encouraging her to be what the ex wanted her to be, a source of money. After they moved in together, the ex began asking Emily to try on various outfits because she wanted to see how cute they would look on her. Emily admitted that she was delighted by all of the attention she was receiving for the first time in her life, but didn't pay attention to how the outfits were becoming increasingly sexier, the poses more erotic, and that the ex was always ready with her camera. This went on for over six months. It wasn't until the ex started pushing her to join different support groups, like our little cross dresser group, that she became suspicious. The first time she came to our group, the ex had forced her to change clothes and wear the more suggestive outfit we all saw. Emily told me she felt really embarrassed coming dressed like that. When she returned home, the ex was furious that Emily hadn't gotten a list of our names and contact information (actually she did get a list, and thankfully, she lied about it). Then last week, she explained, after taking another slice of pizza, "I was in the apartment alone while the ex was out jogging. She had left her phone and it beeped with a text message. I glanced at it. It was some sort of reminder to change the password on an account that had my name on it. Needless to say, I was concerned, I didn't know what account that could be." "Yikes!" Was about all I could say at that point, grabbing more pizza and topping off both our glasses of wine. This was getting interesting. "So I started going through her phone messages and emails. Oh yeah, the ex doesn't have a passcode on her phone or on her laptop either. In retrospect, I think she lied to me about being a student when we met, no one could be that stupid. Anyway, I found out she'd opened several subscriber only accounts with my name on them and was posting suggestive pictures of me wearing lingerie and other sexy things she had given me. I'm almost certain now she wanted contact information to sell pictures of me or... something worse that I don't want to think about. I think I was most disturbed by one site where she was posting videos of me getting dressed. At least I knew she had taken pictures of me. I had no idea she was secretly recording me." "Wait, 'getting dressed' not 'undressing'" I asked. "Yeah, the videos always begin when I start putting on my bra and panties. There are lots of closeups of me putting on stockings and heels." "Yikes," is about all I can say again. "Anyway, I spent the next hour until the ex returned, deleting every account I could find and deleting all the pictures and videos she had on her phone. I couldn't find any on her laptop, and I couldn't find any evidence of her having any cloud storage or memory sticks. I don't think she even knows what that stuff is." "So the shit hit the fan when she returned," Emily continued, "considering how freaked out she was, I think I did manage to delete everything. I really was afraid she was going to kill me. I locked myself in the bedroom and gathered as much of my stuff as I could. The only thing I think I left was the expensive lace front wig. While I hauled my things out to my car, the ex was screaming 'you fucking femboy, get the fuck out of here' as loud as she could while taking a scissors to the wig. Which she bought, so like I said, stupid." "Yikes," I am in a rut, I can't think of anything else to say. "Oh, one thing else. I didn't delete that video site yet because it said I had a current balance of $1576. That was the site referenced in the text message. The ex had not put a password on the account. So I put one on. But I couldn't figure out how to get the money. I don't want the ex to have it." I was expecting Emily to start crying, but instead she had moved onto the anger stage, pounding her fists on the kitchen counter and screaming obscenities at her ex-girlfriend and then at herself for being a fool. Then, as quickly as the anger came, it subsided and she reached out for a consoling hug. I let her hold onto me for a painfully long time. She had pressed herself tightly against my breasts and I could feel my nipples hardening and I was embarrassed by my reaction. Finally breaking our hug, I asked her, "I'm pretty good with computers, I mean, that's actually what I do for work. Would you like me to see what I can do to transfer that money to you?" "Wow, that would be great. I could really use the cash. With everything going on, I haven't been able to focus on finding work." "I haven't asked yet, what kind of work do you do?" "Besides pose unwittingly for internet porn?" She laughed at herself. "I've been trying to do freelance graphic design and web page development. The front end stuff. Not the backend data processing that you probably know about." "Well, let's see what we can do." The video site was still up. The ex-girlfriend had been successfully locked out. It didn't take long to fix the problem. The ex had somehow screwed up linking to a valid PayPal account. "There you go, the money is in your new PayPal account. You can transfer it to your bank whenever you want. Do you want me to delete this video site for you?" Emily giggled, "You're dying to see some of the videos aren't you?" Of course I wanted to see them. But do I let her know that? What the hell, since she's volunteering, "If I say 'yes', will you be upset?" "No!" "Then, yes, absolutely!" "Ok, hmmm...," I paused after Emily showed most, if not all of the posted videos. "You know, except for showing your bare ass, which by the way, and do not take this the wrong way, is pretty cute, and the one video where you catch a one second glimpse of your, ahh, your penis, these probably could be posted on Instagram. I mean, since your not on hormones, I suppose even the views of your breasts are ok." "I think it's just because I'm labeled on this site as transgender, that anybody pays for this stuff." Emily mused. "Shit, look, while we've been sitting here, there's another $20 in the account." "You know, you're the owner now. You can do whatever you want. You can delete everything, or you could just delete the videos that are offensive. At this point, it's almost like free money for you, well except for the taxes of course." "That I could use to pay for my transition," Emily started thinking out loud. "You're right, most of these are almost PG rated. And their quality leaves a lot to be desired. Do you suppose anyone would pay to see more of these, just better made?" "Maybe, but it could be people are watching because the videos look candid, like you are being spied on. Which is exactly what your ex was doing. So, I don't know. You could try to make a video yourself, I suppose, and see what kind of response you get." Just as I said that, I immediately regretted it. As I was babbling on and on trying to apologize for even suggesting that she make more videos, Emily just started laughing. "I love that you're embarrassed. Thank you, thank you! But your not like the ex, I already trust you more than I ever really trusted her. Besides, I was thinking the exact same thing. I'm pretty good at video editing. So the only problem with the idea is...., I need someone I trust to do the recording." Chapter 3: Dinner With Emily A week went by without the videos being mentioned. Also not mentioned, was when Emily would be moving out. Not that I expected her to. There was no way she was in any position to be on her own. In fact, if she tried to leave, I'm pretty sure I would have blocked the door. It was a Friday morning, and for the first time since Emily moved in, I needed to go to work in person. Emily and I had settled into a workable routine. I worked as I always had, from a computer on a desk next to my bed in the loft. Emily worked on her laptop on the kitchen counter. She had managed to secure two contracts from a couple of previous clients and I could see her self esteem rebounding. We had breakfast, lunch and dinner together in the apartment, in order to save money. Because I was going to be gone all day, I suggested that we go out for dinner, an idea that really perked up Emily. Actually, I think it perked me up even more. In the back of my mind, this was going to be the closest thing I've had to a date since my divorce, even though I knew that it was in no way a date. Still, I was pretty sure it would lift my spirits just to pretend I had a date with a beautiful woman. "Can I ask you something?" Emily inquired when I came down to grab a bowl of dry cereal before heading to work. "Sure." "How do the other women in your office dress?" I knew where she was going with this. While I had become very comfortable and confident as Ella on video conferences, I was much less so in person. I had yet to wear a dress or heels to work. Just loose fitting tops, jeans, and flats. The other women had even been encouraging me, teasing me, "You went through all this hard work to be a woman, enjoy it." I didn't even answer Emily. I turned around and went back up the stairs to my bedroom. When I came down the second time, I had changed into a dark blue shift dress, put on a pair of nude pumps with a three inch heels, taken my hair out of its ponytail, added a little more eye shadow and mascara, and put on a darker shade of lipstick. "Wow, you go girl! Now you look like a professional woman," Emily was effusive. Eight hours later, I couldn't wait to tell Emily how well my day went. My female colleagues were ecstatic that I was emerging from my shell. My male boss was a bit flummoxed at first, totally afraid of saying something that would get him called into HR for a reprimand. With my transition, half his staff were now women, pretty good for a male dominated profession. He's just going to have to get use to a new normal. When I opened the door to our apartment (l planned on telling Emily over dinner that if she wanted to, we could be permanent roommates), Emily was waiting, dressed up similar to me, in a black sleeveless dress and black pumps, looking quite sophisticated. "I assumed we weren't going out to get fast food, so I dressed up. I was going to suggest that cute Italian place in the mall. It's my treat by the way." "That sounds perfect, except for the you paying part," I protested. I might have student loans to pay off, but I at least had a steady income. "No, I insist. That stupid web site earned another $60. So? ? I propose we use it. Besides, I got another client today, and I want to celebrate." The cute Italian place is one of the trans friendly places that the cross dresser group frequents, but never on a Friday, so we were not worried about running into any of them. We also were not specifically going to a trans friendly place, because both of us are quite passable. No, we were going to the cute Italian place because it was, well, really cute! Not the typical Italian chain restaurant. Most of the tables were candlelit tables for two, in cozy nooks surrounded by green vines. It was also a romantic choice. I don't know if that occurred to Emily, but it fit perfectly with my desire for a pretend date. After we were seated at one of those cozy tables for two, the waiter brought menus and asked what we'd like to drink, whereupon, Emily ordered a bottle of dry Italian wine for the table. The waiter smiled and complemented her on the choice, then asked if he could see her ID. Emily reached into her purse and presented her drivers license, proving she was old enough to drink. The waiter smiled and thanked her as I was fumbling with my purse, looking for my ID, when he walked away. "What the..." I mumbled, looking perplexed because I wasn't asked to verify my age. Come on, I'm only three years older than Emily. I mean, I know she looks particularly young and she'll be one of the people being carded when she's forty, but still. "Are you actually upset you weren't carded?" Emily laughed. "Well, yes, a bit," I said defensively. "I was the one that had to show him an ID that still has my name as Liam on it. He could have made me drink water or a soda. I think he's already earned a good tip." "But that's just it. I finally have a drivers license with my correct name and sex, I wanted to use it," I pouted. "Well, how about you show it to me. Will that make you happy?" She said, taking the card from my hand. When the waiter returned with the wine, Emily embarrassed me by asking the waiter to check my ID. At first perplexed, he smiled at me, "Ah, I see. I remember you from another visit, so, no need to check." "But she has a new one, you should see it," Emily persisted. "Ok," he said taking my ID from Emily. "Yes, very good, this one has a very nice picture of you miss," handing me back my ID with a subtle wink. After we placed our orders, Emily giggled and grabbed my hand, "Did you hear that, he called you 'miss'!"? ? Any embarrassment I felt faded away and turned into affection as it occurred to me that Emily was just trying to take care of me and make me happy. We spent the first half of the bottle of wine trashing our ex's and a few of the cross dressers, after I shared their emails with Emily. The rest of the evening we simply spent becoming friends and now roommates. There were also indications that this relationship might evolve into something more. Sitting across from each other at a small table, each with our legs daintily crossed, it was unavoidable that our legs and ankles would brush up against each other. The first time, without stockings on, the feeling of our bare skin touching caused both of us to recoil. But the more we bumped into each other, the more pleasurable it felt. I think I was subconsciously moving my leg in hopes of touching her. By the end of the evening our legs were in perpetual contact, slowly caressing each other. We never said a word about it. Chapter 4: We Make a Video The next few months went by without much drama. We maintained the same routine we'd established before officially becoming roommates. We even added a biweekly evening out. Usually it was just a last minute decision. Pick someplace we hadn't been, a bar, a restaurant, a theatre, it didn't matter, as long as it got us out of our tiny apartment. I least would get out once a week to go into work. Poor Emily was stuck there day after day. She had taken on a couple of additional clients and was working seven days a week. She was determined to make enough money to be able to contribute half the rent money. I let her know I was concerned that she was overworked and that it didn't make sense for her to pay half. I kept pointing out that because she was sleeping on the sofa bed while I had the entire loft, I should pay more. And with Emily contributing a third of the rent, I was able to pay down more on my student loan. But she would point out how much more I could pay off if she was paying her full share of the rent. I couldn't convince her. During this time, Emily was able to start hormone therapy. That was kind of a mixed blessing for us. At first it bothered her that she was paying for the health insurance that enabled her HRT, with the money from the video web site. Then it bothered her that the money from the web site was drying up because she wasn't adding any new content. Next she hated herself for even considering making new content, in part because she no longer felt sexy. Any time she looked in the mirror, all she saw was a tired image of herself in a well-worn hoodie and yoga pants. All of this was occurring while her emotions were in turmoil as the estrogen was beginning to perform its magic. Then, on one of the days I went into work, Emily looked in the mirror and felt euphoric. It had taken a while for her to acknowledge the subtle changes to her appearance, but on this day, there was no doubt in her mind that the mirror was no longer? ? reflecting the face of a boy with feminine features, it was showing a young woman in her prime. With a reasonable amount of expectation, she quickly removed the hoodie. She had been experiencing sensitivity in her nipples but had been too tired and depressed to care. Now she was in awe of the development taking place. Her feelings of self worth exploded. She felt alive and sexy again. This was completely obvious to me when I returned to the apartment later that day. When I opened the door I almost tripped over one of Emily's suitcases full of lingerie, the one that she never opens. Then I saw Emily sprawled on top of the sofa bed, wearing just white lace panties, a garter belt, sheer stockings, and red high heel stilettos, smiling at her cellphone camera, mounted in a makeshift holder on a chair. "Hi sweetie," she said looking excited as she sat up. "Look what I found." Emily proceeded to bounce on the bed, making her small boobs jiggle up and down. Now these were not a secret to me. I had caught glimpses of them whenever we found ourselves crammed together in the bathroom. Before I could say anything, she said, "Before you say anything, I haven't lost my mind." Actually, I was too aroused to say anything. It had been awhile, but I still harbored those feelings of attraction. "I decided that my, I'm going to call it a 'love hate relationship'' with those videos has got to stop. I like that they've given me the money for my transition, but I hate that they were made by the ex. So I'm going to delete them. Almost nobody's looking at them? ? now anyway. But if I make my own, then it's because its my choice. Also, for the first time in months, maybe even ever, I like myself, I like how I look. If people want to pay to see how I look, fine. If not, that's fine too." "Ok, whatever you decide, I am totally fine too," I said. I was trying really hard to be nonchalant, and not stare at Emily's perky boobs that seemed to be staring at me. "Also, you are right, I can't continue working seven days a week. I just can't. Thank you for being so understanding, but I do want to pull my my weight around here. So I've also decided to try to find a real, paying job. I don't think I'm cut out to be a freelancer. I want something like what you have. I know it'll take a while, but that's what I'm going to try for." "Well, like you say, you go girl!" I said before asking about her attempt at making a video. "So, how is your video coming along?" "Ah, not well. I keep cutting off my head or I'm off center. Taping my phone to the back of the chair is apparently not how the pros do it," she laughed. "Probably not," I agreed, then paused a bit. "I don't want you to think I'm a pervert or something by being too eager to volunteer, but you know, I am here for you, you just need to ask, ok?" "Ok! Will you take a video of me?" She said teasingly. "Sure, as long as you asked. Ummm...," I begin asking my first question, looking at Emily's phone, "I've got at better camera on my phone, would you mind if we use that instead? If I promise on a stack of bibles, to immediately delete it after transferring it to you?" "Yes, let's use yours. No, you don't have to promise. I trust you. Of course you could always let me take a video of you, for you know, insurance purposes." I refused to acknowledge that I found that a tempting suggestion. I especially had to mentally chastise myself for including Emily in an imagined video, the two of us frolicking in bed together, gleefully removing each other's clothes until we were having naked sex. "Ummm, think I'll pass on that." "Suit your self," she laughed. "Probably better that way. I'm no competition yet against those luscious boobies of yours." "What!?" I yelled, trying to act shocked. I am actually quite proud of my breasts, I just wasn't aware that Emily was a fan. "Hey, in this tiny place, it's impossible not to have seen you naked. I don't think you know how pretty you are." Emily thinks I'm pretty! This was first time she's ever talked about me that way. She's been kind of a "touchy-feely" girl since I met her. I began to wonder if maybe we shared a mutual attraction. That was too big of a conclusion for me to jump to, so I just giggled and said, "Thanks." With that, Emily hopped off the sofa bed, grabbed a dress and her bra from off of the chair and headed towards the bathroom, asking me, "So where should we go to eat tonight? It's your turn to pick." The next day Emily was still in an euphoric mood and decided that we should try our hand at making a tasteful, yet erotic video and see if any of her followers would pay to see it. We decided (she insisted that we be a team and treat this as a joint adventure) to make something similar to the old deleted posts. Only this time, there would be better close-ups, including some of Emily's face. Instead of a distant shot of Emily pulling up panties over her bare ass, we went with an extreme close-up of Emily's beautifully pedicured toes stepping into her panties and then following them slide up her legs until her unseen ass was covered by the delicate piece of lingerie. The same effect for the matching bra. We did do one brief shot where it was obvious what else her panties were hiding. The rest of the video showed Emily putting on thigh high stockings, stepping into her high heels, walking around and smiling into the camera, before putting on a cocktail dress, followed by a close-up of her applying a very bright red creamy lipstick and blowing a kiss. "I don't know about your subscribers, but I am turned on," I admitted breathlessly. "Well good, because that's what I was trying to do!" "What?" "Get your attention! You haven't noticed, but I like you. I like you a lot. Ever since our legs touched at dinner that night, I've had feelings for you." "Why didn't you just say something, because I've been attracted to you since we met. I was afraid of saying anything because of the terrible situation you were in." "Well, I'm saying something now," she cried and ran to me, and pressed her lips to mine. After a long kiss, she asked, "Do you understand what I am saying now?"? ? An hour later as we cuddled in my bed after the best sex I ever had (sorry Jenna, but your strap-on wasn't as satisfying as the real thing), it occurred to me to ask about the video. "Silly, there is no video. I mean, you obviously have a video of me on your phone. But that's where I expect it to stay. I deleted the site when I pulled the last dollar out." Chapter 5: I Meet Zach So, Emily moved up to the loft with me, and the sofa bed returned to being just a sofa. Unfortunately, that meant we were even more cramped for room with all of her clothes now vying for space in the minuscule closet in the loft. At least the living area was a little more spacious. That is until we added a work desk for Emily (and a file cabinet and a larger printer that we could share). We loved bumping into each other in bed, but constantly bumping into each other and constantly getting our things mixed up (I honestly couldn't tell the difference between my black panties from Target and her expensive French ones) was really starting to wear on our relationship. Although her client list was growing, Emily was still looking for the right employment opportunity. She just didn't like working alone, without much human interaction. I was no help because I was usually in Zoom meetings with a headset on, or now going into work two or three days a week (because of a promotion). But this also meant that we were in a position to finally afford a larger apartment. So we started looking. Of course the ones we really liked were more than we were willing to spend, and the affordable ones were out in the suburbs, too far from my work and too far from our favorite hangouts. Then Emily got a response from a tech firm that needed a graphic artist for video games. When she came back from the interview for the position, she was in a strange and contemplative mood. "So, how was the interview?" I asked. "Umm, ok. The work looks really interesting, the salary is really good," she said, still thinking. "You think you did ok, still in the running?" "Umm, oh yeah. The job is mine if I want it." "Wow, congratulations! You must have impressed the HR people." "Ahh, actually I interviewed with the president and owner of the company. Would you get us glass of wine or something, we need to discuss this." After pouring out the rest of the bottle of red wine that we opened a couple of days ago, we sat down at the kitchen counter. "Ok, so the owner, actually the part owner, is someone I knew in high school. I remember Zach as the head nerd. Not surprising he's invented a few video games. So he likes to do the interviews himself for any position directly involved with one of his games." "Anyway, I immediately knew who he was. Interestingly, he knew who I was too. I mean, of course my resume has my high school and last name on it, but not my old name. I guess he did some checking around and put two and two together, and knew I used to be Liam. It was a really good interview. He asked lots of? ? design questions, we went through lots of work scenarios, and went over my past work. At that point, he said I was the most qualified applicant and made me an offer." "So, why the hesitation?" I asked. "Well, after he assured me the job offer was totally mine on merit and not because we once knew each other, he asked if it was ok to chat a little as old friends." "That sounds nice of him," I said. "Well, Zach was kind of tiptoeing around the fact that he knew about my gender transition because someone in our class had sent around links to my pictures." "Oh no," I gasped. "Oh yes," Emily almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "I ended up going over all the sordid details and how you, the love of my life, rescued me. Then we got to the bizarre part. Zach is a closeted transgender woman. I mean, that is how he thinks of himself, I mean herself. He's afraid to come out. He has a bit of a crush on Anthony, his strait business partner, and is afraid of jeopardizing their relationship." "When I was telling him, or her..., I didn't ask about that..., about our search for a larger apartment, Zach, that's easier to say, Zach asked if we'd be interested in having the upper floor of his mansion as an apartment, rent free, if we help with his transition." "What!? OMG, we're going need another bottle of wine!" I said, getting up, shaking my head, heading to our small wine rack. "Is this a serious proposal, he's not some kind of psychopath who wants to lock us in his sex dungeon, is he?" "No, Zach is really a sweet person. In high school, he was one of the kids who stood up for anyone being bullied, like me. He knows he needs help, but because of his position he doesn't know who to trust. From what I told him about us, I think he feels we're the least likely people to take advantage of him. If you're interested, we can go over to his place on Sunday and check it out. I was figuring on the way back home, if we did this for just one year, we would save enough for a down payment on a house." A house! I was suddenly having visions of Emily and I raising kids, maybe being soccer moms, having my parents over on the? ? holidays.... "I guess it won't hurt to check it out." "Are you absolutely certain?" "Yes." When Emily said "mansion", I assumed it was meant to be an exaggeration, a humorous way to say the house is really big. However, Zach's house was indeed a mansion built in the early 1900s by some well known robber baron. When we drove up the circular driveway and stopped in front of the imposing brick portico, I half expected the head butler and four footmen to welcome us. Instead, there was just Zach, waving to us. "Hi, I'm Zach," he said running over to open the car door for me. "You must be Ella, I'm so happy that you came." Then he ran over to greet Emily, who, given her penchant for hugs, met Zach its her arms open. "I thought you might be the butler," I tried to be funny. Zach did laugh, "I wish. No, I live here all by myself. I bought this place at an auction as a renovation project. I hope I didn't oversell it to Emily. The are at least four bedrooms on the upper level. One is completely refurbished along with two bathrooms. The other bedrooms are empty, but could be used for almost anything, like a work space, home office, yoga, if you're into that. There are also two other rooms that are still boarded up. I have no idea what's in them." As we entered the mansion, I could see a large room off to the side of the main entrance hall that looked like a high tech operations center. Certainly not something the robber baron left behind. "Oh, you guys can use any of the stuff in there. I still like to do some of my own programming, so Ella, you might be interested in some of the computers I have in there. By the way, there's fiber optic access if the WiFi is too slow for you. There's also a media and theatre room down that hall." Something else caught Emily's eye and began wandering in the opposite direction towards a large room with an arched entrance. "What's this over here?" She asked. "I think it was used as a formal dining room. There was a huge wooden table and chairs that I had put in storage. Not sure what I'm going to do with it. If you have any ideas, let me know." "And this looks like the kitchen through here," Emily continued to wander. "Yes, pretty outdated though. I've been ordering takeout every night. I think every Uber and DoorDash driver in the city has been here. Unfortunately, there's not a kitchen upstairs, unless there's one hiding in one of the boarded up rooms. But I'll gladly update this kitchen if you know how to cook." Emily and I were shocked when we saw the upstairs, the finished rooms looked like they belonged in a five star hotel. Our entire loft apartment would fit in the bedroom. After recovering from the shock, we sat down in the media room which is where Zach seems to spend most of his time. Emily took the lead and addressed the proverbial elephant in the room, "So, what kind of help do you think we could be to you? I do hope you've gotten professional help because we're not exactly qualified therapists." "Yes, I've been to therapy, even have letters to start HRT. But, at the risk of sounding totally pathetic, I'm basically a loner, the only child of a single mom. No family or close friends to lean on for support. Except for Tony, my business partner. I'll get back to him in a second." "Just so you know, other than the therapists," turning to Emily, "you are very first person I've come out to. Sorry to put that burden on you, but since we knew each other from back when, I took the chance." "Well, it is definitely not a burden!" Emily said while taking a hold of my hands. I nodded yes, telling her to continue. "We are happy to be your support system, regardless of your offer. That's the important thing." "Absolutely!" I added. "Thank you." "I'm curious, have you ever ventured out dressed? That's assuming that you try to be yourself in private, like around here." I asked. "You look vaguely familiar." "A couple of times. I tried going to a cross dresser group a couple of years ago. And I sometimes go a gay club, usually sitting by myself. But that's it for going out as Zelda." "Zelda! That's it. I met you..., well saw you at one of those cross dresser meetings. I'm kind of a Fitzgerald buff, so I remember that name." "That was probably me. I'm sorry I don't remember you. I just remember being pretty self conscious about my appearance compared to everyone else." "So let me tell you about Tony. My last year in college, I met Tony at a LGBTQ student organization. Funny thing, I have no trouble admitting and telling people that I am attracted to guys. Anyway, Tony was there representing the ACLU. He had just finished law school, and was doing some pro bono work for the student organization. I had already started my company and it was just beginning to take off and I needed some legal advice. I sort of used that as an excuse to talk him because he was really cute. I was flirting, not aware that he wasn't gay. I'll skip the details, but he invested in the company and because of his business acumen, I now own a slightly rundown mansion." "But you're still attracted to him?" I asked. "Oh yes. And he knows it. He just doesn't know that my brain thinks I'm a straight woman, not a gay man. I suppose, secretly I hope he might be attracted to the real me. But even if he isn't, I don't want to lose a business partner and friend, if for some reason I create problems by transitioning. I need to avoid creating them in the first place." Chapter 6: We Meet Zelda Before we left the mansion, Zach made it clear that the job offer was not contingent on moving into the upper floor. So Emily immediately accepted the job offer. We promised to get back to him soon about the other offer. Other than the obvious potential pitfalls of living in the same house as your boss, it was just too good an offer to turn down. I think we were both fantasizing about making love in that king size bed with a canopy. Besides, it was not like we were going to lose a security deposit if it didn't work out. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking," I started to say the minute we were back in our tiny apartment and looking at the walls as if they were about to slowly start moving in, as if we were trapped inside a trash compactor. "I'm already on it babe," Emily answered as she was furiously tapping out a text message on her phone. Two weeks later we were all moved in and had established a workable set of boundaries. Zach never came upstairs and we never ventured into the wing of the building where he lived. The only shared spaces were the kitchen, the media and tech tech rooms, and the entry (although Emily and I usually tried to use the back entrance and stairs). Zach was away on business for several days, so we didn't meet Zelda until our third week there. Actually I met her before Emily. Emily was at work and I was in the tech room taking advantage of the high speed internet connection when Zelda appeared at the door to check on a program she was running on one of the computers. "Oops, sorry to startle you. I should have sent you a note or something about when I'm dressed like this." She said sheepishly. "No, don't apologize. This is your house after all. Besides, don't you think you should be dressing full time at home anyway? Although, maybe not in a cocktail dress and heels." "Yeah, about that. I mostly own only fancy stuff because it's easier to hide behind." "I totally understand. We've all been there. It can be scary when your trans. Being a woman can be a lot of work. It can also be a lot of fun, getting to express yourself. But it shouldn't be scary. I'm almost finished here. Do you have time to show me your wardrobe and we can talk about what would look good on you? Maybe find things you could wear to go, I don't know, like grocery shopping. Like maybe with us sometime. Buy healthy food... hint, hint. Remember, you'll feel more comfortable when you're not attracting attention. Unless of course, you're walking a red carpet somewhere, which I suppose in your case might be a possibility." When Emily came home a couple of hours later, Zelda and I were in the kitchen making a grocery list. She had been right, all she had in her closet were dresses, and all of her shoes had at least a three inch heel. We ended up going through my closet until we found some old clothes I had out grown. Wait, to be clear, I had grown thinner! We were within a half size on shoes, so a fairly well worn pair of flats fit her perfectly. I also had convinced her to take off the long blonde wig she was wearing. First of all, it was totally the wrong color for her complexion. Second, her natural hair was thick and dark, and usually pulled into the kind of ponytail that computer nerds are known to wear (I know I did). With the right cut, it could be pretty cute. "My god! Za...Zelda, you look great. Wow, I see lots of potential. I'll be excited to see the changes hormones will make," Emily gasped as she sat down next to us. "Yes, about that," I started to ask Zelda, but she raised a hand to stop me. "One of the things I did last week while I was gone, was to see a doctor," she said while getting off of the kitchen stool and walking over to a cabinet over the sink. She pulled out a couple of bottles of pills. "I think this is the perfect time to take these." Chapter 7: Emily Has a Plan Over the next few weeks, the three of us spent time in evenings buying clothes for Zelda online. As proper mentors, we realized this was a short term solution. Because a lot of the clothes Zelda wanted to buy were only available in high end stores where shopping in person often requires talking to a snobbish sales clerk, we decided to put that off until Zelda had worked on her voice some more. While Emily had developed a female voice on her own, I had used a vocal coach. So I was going to try to see if I could teach Zelda. In the meantime, it was fun spending someone else's money. We had set a much earlier deadline for Zelda to go out in public (other than a gay bar) where she didn't need to interact with anybody. We gave her the choice and she decided that grocery shopping was probably the least stressful choice. Since Emily was going into the office every day (because she also had a deadline to meet for an update to one of Zach's games), the task of taking Zelda grocery shopping fell to me. After about five minutes in the store, she quickly realized that not a single person cared whether she was there or not. There may have been one or two people who took a quick second glance, but in all likelihood it was probably because they thought we were a lesbian couple. When I mentioned that to her in car driving back to the mansion, she said, "Maybe I should go by myself the next time." I smiled and thought to myself, "Maybe I should write book, 'Ella's Guide to Transitioning'". By the time Zelda had mastered dress buying in a boutique by herself, we could see that the time was rapidly approaching when she couldn't hide the physical and emotional effects of HRT. Emily said that people at work were beginning to notice that the boss didn't look like himself. Emily was afraid to say anything because no one knew she was living in his mansion. At least one co-worker even correctly speculated that the boss was starting to look feminine and wondered if hormones were involved. Rather than letting speculations fester, Zelda decided that a bold move needed to be taken. But finding the right bold move was a dilemma because of her constant fear of losing Tony. The next weekend after this revelation, Emily and I, after a particularly enjoyable night of sex in our super comfy canopy bed, were awakened by a lot of noise coming from downstairs. Sleepily, we put on our matching robes and fuzzy slippers and wandered down to the source of the noise. Zelda was singing along with some song Alexa was playing and banging pots and pans making breakfast. This was something neither of us had ever experienced before. "Morning ladies," she giggled. "I thought I should try my hand making a healthy breakfast for all of us!" "Ok Zelda," Emily said, pouring herself and me a cup of coffee. Yawning, taking a sip from her cup, she stared at Zelda, "Why?" "Well, I weighed myself and I'm actually under my target goal! That sexy red slip dress I bought now fits perfectly. All thanks to your forced healthy eating plan. Since you made grocery shopping one of my favorite things to do (can you believe that?), I? ? want to master cooking now." "So someday, the title of your autobiography will be 'From Tech Entrepreneur to Domestic Goddess'" I teased her. "I like that! Let me write that down for future reference. Maybe I'll ask you to write the forward," Zelda giggled excitedly. Emily raised her coffee cup in a toast, "Well, congratulations boss. I think this calls for a celebration. How about the three of us get all dolled up and hit a club tonight." We briefly considered going to one of the dance clubs downtown, but decided none of us were up to fending off straight guys asking too many questions. So we headed across the river to the large LGBTQ club. We spent most of the evening on the upper level dance floor. Zelda was having a great time, getting just enough male attention to make her feel cute and confident. Emily and I even got some male attention and tried a few dances. However, anytime there was a slow dance, we were back in each other's arms. During one of the dances, we were spotted by a few members of the cross dressers group. "The group had a bet going that you two were together," one of them teased. "Yeah, looks like we broke the golden rule," I said. "Make that multiple times," Emily purred as she gave me a kiss. "It really doesn't matter you know. You two are always welcome." By the time we left, we were exhausted. While we were waiting outside for Zelda to bring her car around and pick us up, Emily tapped me on the shoulder, "I think I just saw Tony going into the club." "Are you sure?" "No. It looked like him. But then I only met him once, on the day I started. But this guy looked back and stared at me for second." The following Monday evening when I returned from work, I found Emily pacing up and down the hallway outside our bedroom. "Anything wrong," I asked. "Just thinking." "About.." I prompted her for a response. "Oh, ah, something I learned at work today," she said, stopping in front of one of the boarded up rooms. "I need something to distract me. Do you suppose Zelda would care if we looked in here?" She said pointing to the room. "I doubt it," I replied as Emily tugged on one of the boards. "Do you have any strength left in those testosterone deprived muscles of yours? Give me a hand." After a couple a pulls by both of us, the boards came off. Inside, the room was full of vintage furniture, piled from floor to ceiling. "I wonder if there's any hundred thousand dollar antiques buried in here?" I mused, thinking that Zelda might pay us a finders fee. "You watch to much TV sweetie. It's probably all junk. Let's see what's in the other room." The boards on the second room came off even easier. The only thing in the room were four old large steamer trunks. As we opened each one in succession, we found more and more vintage women's clothing dating from the 1920s to the sixties. "Wow, look at these, they almost look brand new," I said holding up what looked like a flapper dress from the jazz age. "It's bigger than I would expect. Maybe the women in the robber baron's family were tall, this one looks like it would fit me." "That's it!" Screamed Emily. Startled by her scream, "What?" I asked. "The bold plan. I have it." She said confidently. "What bold plan?" "For the bold move that Zelda needs. I know what to do." Emily grinned. Sitting on the floor of the dusty room, Emily told me about her day at work. While at her desk, she became aware that someone was quietly standing behind her. When she turned around, she saw Tony standing, looking nervously at her. "Can I talk to you privately?" He asked. In his office, he asked if Emily knew that there had been another trans woman who had worked for the company in accounting but left long before Emily started. "We dated a few times, usually meeting at the club where you saw me because she felt safe there. Anyway, she met someone else and eventually left the company and got married. I still like going there, the club, because I like the people and have worked with many on social issues as a lawyer. I understand you're old friends with Zach. I just didn't want him to get his hopes up if he thought I might be gay, that is, if you thought that's why I was at the club. That make any sense? I love him too much to ever hurt him," He tried to explain. "So, we know that Tony likes all women and that he loves Zach, at least platonically. So there's a real possibility that he could love Zelda, maybe even romantically," I summarized what I had just heard. "Exactly sweetie!" Emily smiled. Now all we have to do is get them together in the right setting. And I have the plan. Chapter 8: The Party "Ok, that's done. All the invitations have been sent," Emily announced as she joined Zelda and me in the kitchen for dinner. Zelda was trying a new recipe she found in a stack of cookbooks she recently bought. "How are the decorations coming along?" Zelda asked Emily. "I'm handling that, not Emily," I said, raising my hand. "Sorry, I knew that." Zelda apologized. "Just fine, the antique dealer pointed out all of the 1920 period pieces and even helped me place them where they might have been once upon a time. He was pretty happy that you gave him all the remaining furniture." "And what about the dresses?" Zelda directed her next question to me. "Zelda?! I took care of the dresses, I already told you at work today, remember?" Emily said, sounding a bit exasperated. "Yes, yes, you did. Sorry, I'm beginning to get very nervous about all of this," Zelda whimpered while aggressively chopping several carrots into oblivion. "We know. You're going to be fine. Look how far you've come these past six months. No matter how this goes, you will still have us to support you. Not to mention the others in the community that you've met," Emily said, carefully taking the knife from her hand and saving another carrot from mutilation. "And you do have an out, you can always say you're just wearing a costume, like everybody else," I reminded her. Emily's bold plan was to throw a "coming out party" for the renovated mansion, a 'Great Gatsby party' with guests in 1920s period attire. We found several absolutely gorgeous flapper dresses in the trunks and took them to a clothier to be cleaned and restored. We had worked for several weeks turning the old dinning room into ballroom and the adjoining living room into a 1920s cocktail lounge. The day of the party, Emily picked up the dresses and brought them up to our bedroom and began setting up a makeup table. I was down in the main entrance hall waiting for the caterers and the jazz trio we hired. Zelda was hiding in her room. A little more than hour before the party, I fetched Zelda and brought her up to the bedroom. Emily had our vintage dresses and accessories laid out carefully on the bed. While the steamer trunks also contained vintage lingerie and shoes, we decided to stick with our modern versions. We actually did try on the shoes, but it was doubtful they would last one more night of dancing. So we bought replicas off of the internet. The lingerie was... well neither Emily nor I could envision seducing each other wearing any of it. We also rejected any idea of trying to duplicate the makeup looks of the period. Cupid shaped lips were not going to be allowed on Zelda after months of perfecting her looks. Emily and I were both wearing black flapper dress, although Emily's had fringes adorning the entire dress while mine had them just on the skirt. I had on a black headband with a feather, while Emily donned a cute black cloche hat with silver beading. The best dress we found in the trunks was meant to be worn by Zelda. The instant she saw herself in this silvery flapper dress with fringes, a silver headband with a large crystal clip, long strings of shimmering pearls draped around her neck, and iridescent white t-strap pumps, Zach became a distant memory. Around this time, we could hear the first guests arriving. I headed down the stairs and began to watch for Tony. I had my 1920's era candlestick phone, with it's long wire running across the room, so I could call Emily the minute he arrived. Ok, so it was an iPhone, but I did make a picture of an old phone, my phone wallpaper, in case anyone cared to call me out for having a cell phone. About 20 minutes later, with most of the guests in attendance, Tony walked through the front entrance wearing a period tux and bow tie. He had his black wavy hair slicked back like a silent movie star. I sent a text and within seconds Emily appeared at the top of the stairs. Off to her side, I could just make out the tip of a white shoe peeping out from behind the wall. Emily dashed down the steps, headed straight for Tony, while I moved to join her. "Tony, it's great you could come," Emily said, a bit out of breath. "Nice to see you again. You look stunning in that dress," Tony paused. "Sorry, you're an employee I shouldn't comment on your appearance, I...." "Please, this is not a work function. Feel free to compliment me, it is the 1920s after all." Then turning to me, Emily said, "Let me introduce my partner, Ella. Ella is also works in tech, she's a really a good programmer." "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Tony, a work colleague of Emily." "Hi, no need to be modest, I do know you're one of the owners. It is nice to meet you." Tony smiled and asked Emily, "Is the host here, or is he still back in his media room playing online games?" With that, Emily waved to the jazz trio and one of the members picked up a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could direct your attention to the top of the staircase, our host for tonight's festivities, the beautiful.... Zelda!" Zelda, mustering all of her courage, emerged from behind the wall and stood at the top of the stairs. As the smattering of applause started to evolve into a full blown ovation, Zelda began her descent down the staircase. By the time she reached the entrance floor, she was engulfed by a crowd of well wishers. I glanced back to see how Tony was reacting, but he had disappeared. Emily noticed his departure too. We looked at each other and began to panic. Then, as the crowd began to dissipate, we saw Tony approaching Zelda. Emily and I quickly ran towards them, fearing that we needed to be there for emotional support. We arrived just as we heard Tony ask, "Why didn't you tell me?" "I was afraid." "Of what? That I wouldn't accept you?" "Yes." "I thought I kind of wore my convictions on my sleeve. I deeply admire the courage required to undertake a gender transition. You should have trusted me." "I'm sorry, I really am," Zelda said as her eyes began to moisten. "I can no longer be friends with Zach," Tony said with an air of finality. A tear started to run down Zelda's face. "Hi, my name's Tony, and you are..." Tony said holding out his hand. "Hi, I'm Zelda," she whispered. "Nice to meet you Zelda! I must say you have a nice place here. And that dress! It's the cat's meow!" "Thanks, can I show you around?" She asked. "That would be delightful," Tony offered his arm to Zelda and they headed towards the cocktail lounge as the jazz trio began playing "I Wanna be Loved by You". Emily took my arm, and we headed towards the ballroom. As we passed under the arched entrance, Emily whispered to me, "Ain't love grand!" Epilogue: Six months after the party, Tony moved into the mansion, and Emily and I moved out. The money we had saved living rent free along with a very generous bonus given to Emily by her bosses for exceptional graphic artistry and party planning, allowed us to purchase a house of our own. It's not exactly a mansion, but it's really close to one. From just across the river, we can see the chimney spires of Zelda and Tony's place from our second floor bedroom window. Often, we will stare at them, after intimately expressing our love for each other, cuddling under the covers in our large canopy bed. A wedding gift from our best friends in the world. I guess I am living a charmed life after all.