Date: Fri, 6 Oct 2000 11:51:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rita Opal <rita@molard.ca>
Subject: "Rita Starts Real Life"

This story has a TRANSGENDER theme; chronologically it preceeds my other
stories about Rita's adventures in her happy state of transsexual
womanhood. It deals with her experiences during her months of transition,
and logically it should really be the first section of the story I called
"Rita's Transition".

                      RITA STARTS REAL LIFE

Introduction: The Reality. After I took early retirement, I found
that indulging my sense of being transgendered occupied more and
more of my attention. I now think that it was always a part of
me, and that it had been liberated by the mental upheaval
following my prostate surgery.

Prior to the diagnosis, I had lived in a delightful comfort zone
for many years, indulging my cross-dressing fetish. I always wore
nightgowns in bed, and frequently wore girdles and stockings. I
always dressed that way to make love to my partner Jan, and she
was happy to accept me. As the years had passed, she seemed to
get less desirous of conventional sex, and more often than not
she satisfied my desires by hand; that seemed to satisfy her too,
and she obviously became excited as she felt the results of her
efforts, culminating as they always did in my ejaculation. When I
wore my feminine lingerie, I could also be worked up to a state
of intense excitement by manipulation of my nipples. They were
very sensitive, and though small, they became rigid in response,
and stimulated me so much that I could achieve orgasm without any
other manipulation. It struck me that in this respect Jan and I
responded in almost exactly the same way.

Before my surgery I took anti-androgens for six months, and their
effect was to turn me off completely; my last male orgasm
occurred just a few days after starting the medication. It was a
strange time; I was completely uninterested in sex, and had no
desires for my feminine clothing; I no longer responded as usual
to attractive women, being indifferent to, rather than fascinated
by what they wore. I was not unhappy, since my inhibited
capabilities caused me no concern in the absence of any desire.

A few months after surgery things were very different. My sexual
desires, as a male, returned, but I discovered that I was no
longer able to achieve erection. I also realised, belatedly, that
I would never again be able to experience the supreme physical
pleasure of ejaculation; I no longer had a prostate gland to
produce the fluid, or to experience the delightful spasms
associated with its discharge. I became very frustrated; it was a
male sexual frustration, but it expressed itself, as stress
always did, in preoccupation with cross-dressing, which became an
obsession that took possession of my thoughts during all my
waking hours. The frustration fed on itself, and increased, since
my usual response to cross-dressing had been desire for sexual
release, now no longer possible.

In my desperation I sought out anything that might cater to my
overriding passion for cross-dressing; I read TV stories avidly,
finding them unsatisfying, and finally decided to make some
attempts at writing myself. Then I discovered the web, and soon
was spending almost all my time following up links which I hoped
would relate to my interests. For a while this proved equally
unsatisfactory, but one day I discovered the magic word 'gender';
that opened up a completely new world -- a world where some men
dressed as women, some lived as women, and some even became
women. It was my introduction to the world of transsexuals, and I
began to learn about their feelings and experiences at first
hand. In the course of my exploration of the net, I also found
mailing lists that served as forums for transgendered people; I
joined one, hoping to hear from people who shared my interests.
To my surprise, I found myself much more in sympathy with the
transsexual people that posted to the list than with the smaller
number of transvestites, and I started private correspondence
with some of them, making one very close friendship. It was
virtually a cyber love affair, and was invaluable in providing
each of us with a 'shoulder to cry on'; I was able to unload my
transgender feelings, for the first time, to someone who
understood and shared them, and the catharsis was important in
relieving my frustration; my correspondent was able to deal in a
similar way with the conflict between her drive towards
transition, and her relationship with her marriage partner of
many years.

During this period Jan was very helpful to me. She didn't
understand the depths of my desire for feminine clothing; in fact
I didn't myself completely, as I had not realised that it
symbolised more fundamental feelings about gender. She did
realise that I was sexually frustrated, and together we
experimented in an attempt to find some activity that would give
me physical relief. Miraculously, the problem did resolve itself,
and it did so in a way that led to much greater satisfaction and
happiness for both of us.

We discovered that the glans of my penis was as sensitive as it
had always been; I experienced pleasant sensations when Jan
stimulated it, even though it was no longer engorged and rigid.
One day she suggested using baby oil as a lubricant, and to my
delight this made the pleasure even more exquisite; as we
experimented I found a build in excitement occurred, and my mind
became focussed on the arousal much as it had previously. The
build up eventually terminated in a release, which was much more
emotional and mental than physical, though it did manifest
physically as a shudder which engulfed my whole body. The
physical effects became more and more enjoyable as time went on,
and they could even be continued after the initial shock of my
release; I realised that I was experiencing orgasm again.

It definitely was orgasm, though the experience was quite
different from the exhilaration of ejaculation that is the
essence of a male orgasm. In my contemplation of what was
happening to me, I came to the conclusion that it seemed to
resemble descriptions I had read of female orgasms. The build up
was very slow, exquisitely slow, with my pleasure dependent on
the gradual increase in excitement; my mental and emotional state
was a critical component, in fact I enjoyed passively being
'seduced' by my partner; and the final release involved my whole
system, and was not necessarily restricted to a few brief moments
of intense pleasure. Making this identification enhanced the
pleasure of my experience; the idea that I was experiencing
orgasm, as a female, stimulated me even further, and convinced me
that I was indeed transgendered.

With this realisation, sex became more of a pleasure than it had
ever been previously. Lack of erection ceased to be a source of
frustration, and became an essential feature of my newfound
pleasure. Without the well defined focus provided by a tumescent
penis, I found that my pleasurable sensations were strangely
unlocalised in space; that allowed me to think of them being
based inside of me, and accentuated their essentially female
nature; I could imagine the seat of my pleasure was my clitoris,
located within my vagina, and doing so made the experience even
more satisfying. I finally realised that sexual behaviour is
learned, and that a major component of it is mental; faced with a
male system that no longer functioned as such, my transgendered
mind had not only helped me to overcome my sexual frustrations,
it had led me to develop new and even more intense female sexual
responses.

My delight in my new sexual pleasures, and my identification of
them as essentially female, made life seem better than ever, but
I was selfish in being almost completely unaware of Jan's
reaction to what was happening to me. She was a loving partner,
and now helped me to experience fantastic pleasure when we were
in bed together, but she was quite worried by my change in
behaviour. She was concerned about what I was up to during the
long hours that I spent at the computer, and she also thought
that I was still frustrated by my impotence; it's also likely
that she experienced frustration herself, as I was no longer
capable of providing her with a normal sex life.

She did know that I had email correspondents, and that the topics
of mutual interest were related to my cross-dressing activity.
One weekend she asked me point blank who my 'pen-friend' was, and
whether I used a femme name in my correspondence. She wanted to
know if the 'pen-friend' was male or female, and was somewhat
taken aback by my reply that it wasn't a simple question to
answer. I started to explain the world of the transgendered, and
where I saw myself within it; she had opened the floodgates, and
triggered a massive outpouring from me that covered the way I
felt about myself, and gender. I opened up as I had never done to
anyone before, admitting things which I had not really admitted
to myself until very recently; she was interested and intrigued
and asked questions, and the conversation lasted for the whole
weekend, and continued with a few interruptions for several weeks
afterwards.

Opening myself up that way got us closer than we had ever been,
and had the magical effect of starting a second honeymoon, after
thirty happy years of marriage! We found we couldn't bear to be
apart from one another, we spent most of the day making eyes at
one another, and we couldn't wait to get to bed in the evening,
at a ridiculously early hour. Once there, we made passionate
love, physically satisfying for both of us.

It was obvious that some barrier had been knocked down in Jan's
head, as well as in mine. Our close feelings for one another had
no doubt been stimulated by the liberating effect of my complete
and utter candour, but there was no question in my mind that Jan
was also drawn closer to me by my revelation of a feminine side
to myself. I was liberated myself too, and took delight in being
able to share intimate feelings with her; it was a delight to
feel free to talk, with complete lack of embarrassment, about how
much I enjoyed stockings and suspenders, and have a completely
accepting non-judgmental response. As I lost my inhibitions, and
took delight in my feminine identification, I quite deliberately
did things to stimulate the effects, and push myself further into
it. Jan accepted all my little games happily, and even helped the
process along. One evening as we were making love, she said "you
silly girl" fondly to me, and the effect was electrifying; it was
apparent to both of us that reinforcement of my fantasies was a
powerful stimulus to me.

That incident led to Jan talking to me during love making as
though I was female, and I encouraged her to do so; I also got
her gradually to accept me as Rita. She had no problems with the
gender association, but understandably found it difficult to use
a new name for someone she had known intimately for so long.
There were other incidents too that reinforced my identification,
and pushed me further into it. I had always had the usual
problems of male cross-dressers in trying to get clothes to fit
well; a particular problem for me was with my special love,
girdles. They were designed for women (of course, and that was
their appeal for me) and assumed that the wearer's hips were some
ten inches or so larger than her waist. I had more normal male
proportions, and found that to get the snug fit around my hips
that I enjoyed, the waist had to be uncomfortably tight. I had
always been vaguely interested in trying a real classical corset,
and one day it occurred to me that a garment designed to measure,
which could be adjusted by lacing might be the ideal solution. I
ordered one, with very helpful advice from the lady who owned the
boutique, and waited eagerly for it to arrive. When I finally got
it, and mastered the intricacy of lacing it up, the effect on me
was devastating. The skill of the maker was evident in the
hourglass shape that was clearly visible, even when the lacing
was not restrictive at all, but it drove me into a state of
mental exhilaration. I felt myself 'feminine'; I felt myself
enter a new state of existence, and I wanted only to relax,
wallow in the sensations, and allow myself to sink completely
into that space.

I was now deliberately stimulating my feelings, and looking for
means to reinforce them. Jan seemed to accept all of my
activities, and their consequences, and it seemed clear to me,
that the more I explored the world of 'femininity' the more she
and I got closer.

Introduction: The Fantasy. Life was now very good indeed. A large
portion of my time was spent indulging my feminine desires, and
mentally exploring every possible aspect of them. I enjoyed
trying on dresses, and spent more and more of my time wearing
them around the house. My cross-gender activities and nature were
still very much 'our special secret', though; I hadn't ever
considered making them known to others, and certainly never
contemplated a public venue. In spite of my enjoyment of my
assumed 'femininity', I knew that my real image was very
unconvincing; to a large extent this was due to the fact that,
although I had spent most of my adult life exploring female
clothing, I had never really experimented with wigs or makeup
seriously, nor had I thought very much about accessories, and
creating a complete ensemble.

This utterly illogical state of affairs finally started to bother
me. I began to think about making my female presentation
complete; I found myself envious of women who had glorious
shoulder length hair, and wore prominent earrings; I also thought
it might be interesting to experiment with makeup. When Jan and I
went to the theatre, I found myself looking at the elegantly
dressed women there, and wishing that I had the freedom to dress
in exactly the same way for an evening out. I also started to
become dissatisfied with my body, and the incongruity between the
reality and my mental identification. I began to wish that I had
full natural breasts of my own; they would make wearing bras and
corselettes much more enjoyable and much more natural, and move
my sensitive nipples to their proper place at the front of my bra
cups. Although experience of sex was now a wonderful pleasure, I
began to long for penetration as an essential part of it, and
wanted my body to be free of male appendages, even though they
were actually the physical source of my pleasure.

Monday, May 24th. As these desires became stronger and stronger,
I realised very quickly what their logical consequence was; it
seemed to make more and more sense to me, and become more
appealing, but when I thought of the social consequences of such
a course, and the legal hassles, I was still reluctant to
contemplate it seriously. It was Jan who woke me up to reality.
She seemed always to be completely in tune with me, and this time
might have been reading my thoughts. "You enjoy being a woman,
don't you, Rita?" "I enjoy my fantasy of being one," I said;
"It's a pleasure to indulge, and it becomes absolute bliss when
you reinforce it. You're a wonderful partner, and I'm madly in
love with you." "It's mutual," she said. "But not only do I love
you as a person; I am more and more in love with what you have
become. It's much more than a pleasant fantasy now." "It
certainly gets stronger, and more important to me," I said, "but
there are some basic facts of anatomy that have to be considered;
in the cold light of day, it is just a fantasy." "Rita, my love;
those 'basic facts' can be changed. They aren't necessarily
something you must submit to for ever. It's quite possible to
make your fantasy become the reality." Though the idea had been
hiding in my mind for a while, I was staggered, not just by her
suggestion, but by her equanimity in dealing with it. "You're
suggesting I should become a full fledged TS, transition, and
live full time?" I said. "Are you really thinking that I might
have sexual reassignment surgery?" "Yes, my love," she replied.
"I think you are a TS. Your feminine identification is so strong
that I don't see why you wouldn't want to follow the path to its
logical conclusion." "But what would that do to our
relationship?" I asked. "It would make it stronger than ever,"
she said. "You have indulged in a lot of self-analysis in the
last year or so, and it's patently obvious where the process has
led you; you haven't quite reached the inevitable conclusion. I
think I have. I've done some self-searching too, and I've come to
realise that the more feminine you are, the closer we relate to
one another. I think I have shifted too, and more to the point, I
now recognise that my orientation has changed. I think I'm a
lesbian. I'm in love with you, and I want you to become a woman.
I want you to join me as a sister as well as a lover in our own
special feminine space."

I was overcome by her plea, made from the depths of her love and
absolute empathy. I was convinced at that moment, and with tears
of joy in my eyes I said "I will, Jan, my love. That is where I
want to be." We hugged one another as sisters.

The magic of that moment seemed to last for an eternity.
Eventually I came down to earth, and though unshaken in my
decision, began to consider some of its implications. "There's a
lot to think through," I said. "The process is well established
and well documented, and I have access to an incredible amount of
material accumulated by my friends in cyberspace. That part of it
is almost a routine matter now, and there are thousands of
others, thanks to the real pioneers who had to fight every inch
of the way. But I have to deal with coming out, and the social
aspects of it, not to mention the odd legal hassle. There's also
another concern ..." "What's that?" "Sex," I said. "It's vitally
important to me. I discovered that when my drive was frustrated.
The changes in me result from discovering the greater joy of
experiencing sex as a woman; at least that's how I like to think
of it, and I can't imagine anything I want more than to make it a
real female experience. I want to be penetrated; I want a vagina;
I want my centre of pleasure to be my clitoris, inside me. But
ironically, the whole process which led to those desires is
driven by testosterone; they disappeared when I was on anti-
androgens, and they came back, in spades, when my testosterone
level built up again after the surgery. I'm not too happy about
the thought of messing with that aspect of my system; I might
finish up neuter, and have the worst of both worlds."

"There's not a chance of that," said Jan. "This isn't a matter of
simply turning off testosterone; the first stage of the procedure
is to start replacing it with estrogen, and other female
hormones. No doubt that will change the way you feel about
things, but your body will start to generate normal female urges,
and my guess is that they will reinforce what is already in your
mind." "That could be," I said, "but I really want to be sure; I
think I came to my feminine identification directly through my
sexuality, and that is a vital component of my whole persona."
"Well," said Jan, "the first step is to see a good
endocrinologist, one who is experienced in dealing with TS
people, and discuss this point head-on. In any case the initial
stages are fairly reversible, and if you do find that the
hormones are doing the wrong things you can always stop them. I
really believe they will do all the right things. I think the
gradual changes in your body, and the urges that it develops,
will reinforce your present sexuality."

Sunday, May 30th. The inevitable decision had been made. In the
days that followed, I sat down and thought the whole complex
process through very carefully, and made lists and schedules. I
was in the fortunate position of being retired and completely
free, and also reasonably well off. The costs involved in
transition and surgery were not an obstacle, and in fact I could
finance them without difficulty. That freed me completely from
the 'gatekeepers', and I could choose my own path, and my own
schedule. I could seek out professionals who were known to be 'T*
friendly', so there were no real obstacles to the basic mechanics
of the process. The first step was clearly to see an
endocrinologist, and get a prescription for hormones. As their
effect gradually manifested, I could start the process of going
full-time, at my own pace. One result of that would be the
necessity of making my new self known to everyone I knew and had
contact with.

Tuesday, June 1st. That still seemed a daunting task, but
nonetheless I did proceed immediately to the essential first
step. I sought advice and information from the network of T*
people in cyberspace, and made an appointment with a local
endocrinologist who was highly regarded in the gender community.

Dr. Elderton was female, and struck me as being very attractive
when I introduced myself on my preliminary visit. I explained my
situation to her, and she listened with obvious empathy and
understanding. "I now identify myself as female mentally," I told
her, "and I have come to the conclusion that I am transsexual. I
want to start the process of transition, and as a first step I
need a prescription for female hormones." "I would be happy to
help you," she said, "but there are some criteria that must be
satisfied. I need to be completely certain that you understand
fully what you are doing, and that you really wish to follow this
course. I'd like to discuss what it entails with you, and ask
some questions. I suspect that you are sure about what you want,
and that it is a carefully thought out decision, but as you must
appreciate, I have to verify that. There are also some medical
considerations, and I will need to get some blood tests done, and
check your general health." We got into a quite lengthy
discussion of my sexual history and my attitudes and desires. She
seemed particularly interested when I spoke of my relationship
with Jan. "You seem to be happily married," she said. "I am
indeed," I replied. "Jan and I are very close, and we seem to
have got closer as my female identification has strengthened. She
has shifted just as much as I have, and we seem to have been in
step all the way. My decision was really made when she told me
that she now identified herself as lesbian, and wanted me to be a
woman completely." "That sounds like a relationship made in
heaven," the doctor said, and I thought she sounded wistful; "I
wouldn't want to interfere with it. I am quite satisfied that it
is appropriate to prescribe female hormones for you; I'll be in
touch when we get the test results."

I raised my concerns about sex drive with her. "You should be
aware that female hormones will change things," she said. "You
will find that your feelings and attitudes do change, and there
will certainly be effects on your emotions and moods. But I think
that sexuality is mental to a large degree, and you may very well
find that your present attitudes and desires are reinforced. That
has been the case with many of my transsexual patients. Some were
disturbed by manifestations of what they saw as male sexuality,
and wanted relief from the symptoms, but many were motivated, as
you are, by the desire to be a woman sexually as well as
socially. My experience is that genuine transsexuals do find that
the effect of hormones is to reinforce their internal feelings of
gender." I was relieved to hear this opinion from an experienced
professional, and reassured about my decision.

Tuesday, June 8th. The test results indicated that there were no
medical concerns that would impact on female hormone therapy, and
a week after seeing Dr. Elderton I had my first prescription. Jan
and I went out to dinner that evening to mark the occasion; we
didn't make it into an exuberant celebration, but we both felt
that it was the beginning of a journey, and one we looked forward
to. I thought happily that it would not be too long now before we
would be having dinner out together, and I would be properly
dressed for the occasion. In bed, later on, with the first dose
of female hormones working on my system, we snuggled together and
chatted about how things would proceed from this beginning. "The
next step is to start working seriously on my presentation," I
said. "It's no longer a fantasy, and I have to convince other
people that I am what I feel myself to be." "I've been thinking
about that," Jan said. "Obviously I have some first hand
experience with feminine presentation, but it has been picked up
rather casually, after my heady years as a developing teenager. I
think I would like to learn a lot more about clothes, and hair,
and makeup. I certainly don't want you to outdo me." She hugged
me, to show she wasn't serious. "I don't think you need worry
about that," I said. "I don't really," she went on, "but
seriously I think it would be wonderful for us to study the whole
subject properly and learn together. I'm beginning to like the
idea of having a real girl-friend." "I already have one," I said,
"but I like the sound of what you are saying. There is one big
problem that you don't have, and that is hair in unwanted places.
I have been looking at the voluminous correspondence on the
lists, and I don't look forward to hours and hours of
electrolysis. I am seriously considering trying the laser
treatment."

Friday, July 9th. In the days and weeks that followed I gradually
became aware of changes to my body. The effects were very subtle
at first, but there were times when I became very aware of a
tingling feeling around my nipples. No doubt some of the effects
were wishful thinking, but I became convinced that my skin was
beginning to feel softer and smoother, and that there was some
noticeable rearrangement of tissue around my hips. There was a
change too in the way I felt about myself; I still felt feminine,
and enjoyed the feeling, but it seemed to be more of a continuous
glow, a feeling of well-being, instead of the intense periodic
excitement that occurred before, usually as a result of getting
dressed. It struck me that this was due to my acceptance of
femininity as my natural state; it was a deep satisfaction always
present in my consciousness, rather than an exhilaration induced
by particular activities. Jan and I made love as we always did,
and it was as satisfying as ever. When Jan took control of me,
and manipulated my pleasure centres, I became excited as I always
had. The slow build up was an incredible pleasure, as always, and
it did seem to be enhanced by feelings that my sense of
femininity was now based on what I knew was happening to my body;
I was gradually shifting from a fantasy world into the real
world. It wasn't all wishful thinking; Jan was picking up some
signs too. "You're beginning to get real boobs," she said. "They
are still quite small, but they are definitely developing. They
really are cute." She started to fondle them, and caressed my
nipples lovingly. It was a delicious experience, sending tingles
of delight right through me, and I realised that things
definitely were changing. "If that is anything like the way it
feels for you, then I don't know what made me wait so long," I
said. I started to fondle her beautiful breasts, and felt the
immediate response. "It is good," whispered Jan, "and I'm so
happy for you. Welcome home." The thought that our feelings were
very much the same was a wonderful stimulus to both of us.

Saturday, July 10th. I found the address of a clinic that offered
laser treatment for hair removal; from the information on the web
they were 'T* friendly'. I made an appointment, and with some
trepidation went off to talk to the woman who ran it. She took me
into a private office, and smiled pleasantly at me. "What can I
do to help you?" she said. She seemed very empathetic, and made
me feel a little more at ease; I had to bite the bullet. "I want
to have all my facial hair removed," I said. She didn't seem the
least bit taken aback, so I continued. "The fact is that I am a
transsexual, and I plan to start transition right away. I want to
be able to present myself as a woman fairly soon; I hope that
won't be a problem." She smiled again. "Not at all. We are quite
used to dealing with TS clients, and we are happy for them to
present themselves however they feel most at ease." I felt her
empathy for me, and wasn't surprised when she took my hand for a
moment. "Believe me, I understand," she said. "I am a transsexual
woman myself; ten years ago I was starting my transition, just as
you are now." We got down to details. She suggested three
treatments, at intervals of a month. "The process doesn't remove
all the follicles," she said. "About thirty percent of them
recover, and have to be treated again. After three treatments
there should be very little left to concern you, but there may be
some residual light coloured hairs that will need electrolysis."
I made my first appointment; I thought first thing in the morning
would be good, and they were able to set it up for Thursday, the
following a week.

Sunday, July 11th. Over the weekend I had some long chats with
Jan. I reviewed my game plan, and took stock of what had been
done, and what still needed to be arranged. "The hormones are
starting to show some effect," I said, "and I've arranged to
start laser treatment. There are some other things to get
organised very soon, too, but I have the feeling that the time
has come to finally step out of my closet." "I think so," said
Jan. "Let's think about getting a reasonably passable image to
start with, so that you can get some public experience. The real
Rita will emerge gradually as all the other changes take place."
"I need a wig," I said. "I really hope that my hair will grow
long enough that it will suit me, but it certainly isn't ready
yet. I need some skirts and dresses, too." "You really ought to
try them on," said Jan; "how do you feel about that?" "I'm
scared," I said, "but it has to be done. There is that TV store
in town, it's called Transformation or something like that; they
probably have some things that will work, and it won't be too
embarrassing there. I hope they don't just cater to drag queens;
I would like to merge nicely into the background to start off
with." "I'll go with you," Jan said. "It should be quite
interesting, and I think you need some moral support." "I'm
afraid I shall to start with," I said. "But it won't be too bad
there; their whole business is the transgendered, and they
obviously won't want to turn them off. Hopefully I shall soon
graduate to women's clothing stores." "You will, Rita my love,"
said Jan; "you are a woman now." I squirmed happily at her
encouragement, knowing as well as she did that it was just a
little premature.

Monday, July 12th. The next morning, we drove to the address I
had looked up, and found the store. It was called Transformation
and the display window contained an array of feminine clothing as
well as wigs. We went inside, and I was relieved to see it wasn't
busy. A middle aged woman, presumably the owner, came over to us,
smiling; "Can I help you?" I thought I had better get used to
explaining myself, and bit the bullet once again. "I hope so," I
said. "I'm just about to start transition, and I shall need a wig
until my hair grows. I'd also like to look at some dresses." The
woman didn't seem at all surprised, and smiled again. "Good for
you," she said. "Let me show you the wigs we have." I realised
with some horror that I had not given very much thought to
precisely what style I wanted, or even the colour. "I don't want
anything too outrageous," I said; "I think to start off with, I'd
like to merge into the background. I do like long hair, though;
shoulder length would be nice." "Have you thought about the
colour?" "Not really; it might be best to start off with
something close to my natural hair colour." My hair was dark, not
quite black; when asked for a description I usually called it
dark brown. There was a wig there, in a lighter shade than my
hair colour -- a sunny auburn -- but it appealed to me right
away. It was almost shoulder length, and the hair was not combed
straight, but had broad curls at the ends, giving it a wonderful
feminine shape. "What do you think about that one?" I asked Jan.
"It looks nice," she said, "but you should try it on. That's the
only way to tell whether it really suits you." "That's right,"
said the proprietress. "Sit down in front of the mirror, and
let's try it on you."

She picked up the wig, handling it with great care, and put it on
my head. I looked at myself in the mirror, and was staggered at
what I saw. The face looking back at me was unmistakably that of
a woman. When I looked intently, I could recognise my features,
and there was also a certain roughness; it was the face of a
woman, but that of a woman who had not taken too much care over
her appearance. I looked at it nonetheless, and felt a wonderful
feeling inside of me; it was beginning to seem that my fantasy
could become reality. Jan picked up the effect on me, and said
"It suits you, my love. Rita is definitely coming out of her
closet." The proprietress looked at me carefully; "You're right,"
she said; "I don't think you could make a better choice. The face
needs a little work, but with proper makeup you will be a real
beauty." I thrilled at her words. "I'll take it," I said. "And
now I need some clothes. I'd like a dress that suits me, but
isn't too much of an attention grabber; it would probably be a
good idea to have a skirt as well, and a couple of tops." Happy
to oblige, the proprietress led us over to a whole row of
clothing racks. "Your judgement is very good," she smiled; "what
do you have in mind?" "I've always liked the shirtwaist style to
look at," I said, "and I imagine it would be comfortable, too."
She had several, prints and solid colours, and I realised the
choice would be difficult. "I think a fairly plain one would be
best, for the moment," I said. "When I gain some confidence, and
want to invite attention, then I'll blossom out." "I like your
attitude," said the proprietress, smiling. "What about this one?"
It was blue, not too loud, with a large check pattern. "I like
it. What about sizes?" She had a tape measure ready, and was
measuring my bust, waist and hips. "It should probably be a
little larger in the bust," she said, "to allow for future
development." I liked the idea of that, and found myself more and
more at ease with this congenial woman. "Would you like to try it
on?" she said. I realised then that I had not prepared myself as
well as I might have. "I would," I said, "but I've made a
mistake, one that I'll never make again. I don't have the right
things on underneath." "That doesn't matter," she said; "we can
get a good idea if you just take your pants and shirt off." Jan
signalled encouragement, and I followed the proprietress into a
small changing room. She was quite professional, and unperturbed
as I took off my pants and shirt; she helped me slip the dress
over my head and shoulders, and did up the buttons at the front.
"It looks good," she said, "but you need the wig as well." She
went out to fetch the wig, and once I had that on, the image I
saw in the mirror sent thrills through me. It was me, not too
familiar yet, but an image that would become the real me. "I like
it," I said.

We also got two skirts, and two tops -- four changes of clothing
as Jan pointed out. As I paid for the purchases, and waited for
them to be packed into bags, I realised once again that my dreams
were really beginning to come true. I must have been smiling
happily; Jan smiled back at me, and the proprietress picked up my
feelings too. She smiled as well and said "I think you will enjoy
wearing these things. They will look very good on you, and you
will be a beautiful woman." That was music to my ears, and I was
sitting on cloud nine as Jan and I walked back to the car. "That
wasn't so terrible, was it?" she said. "No," I replied; "I think
I might get used to it quite quickly. I thought the lady there
was very helpful; she had just the right touch, too." Jan nodded
agreement. "I suppose there will be a sad awakening, one day," I
went on, "but so far everyone I have dealings with is remarkably
friendly, and helpful. They seem to welcome new recruits to the
world of women." "That's good," said Jan, "especially at the
beginning. It wouldn't be nice at all to be met with hostility."
"Of course, all of them were women themselves," I said. "I don't
think men would be quite so empathetic. The very idea of
'surgery' makes most of them wince, but apart from that the fact
is women are just much nicer than men; I am beginning to like the
idea of being one." Jan smiled and hugged me. "I like the idea of
you being one, too."

When we were back at home I decided it was time to start my
transition in earnest. I put on some of my favourite underwear: a
girdle and stockings, and a half slip. I decided not to use
breast forms, and though I didn't really need one yet, I put on
one of my favourite bras; its optimistically chosen C cups
weren't anywhere near to overflowing. I put the dress on, and
then the wig, trying to arrange it as I had seen it in the store.
Jan had discreetly left me alone, and she looked up as I walked
into the living room, trying to appear casual. "You look
wonderful," she said. "The Rita that's been hiding all these
years is finally making an appearance, and she's beautiful."
"Thank you," I said. "But she needs some more work. Her voice
leaves quite a lot to be desired, and her face really needs to be
done. Could you help me with that now?" "Of course, my love,"
said Jan. She took my hand and led me back into the bedroom.

She sat me down at the vanity. "This is a first experiment," she
said, "so don't expect too much right away. I realise now that I
don't know as much about makeup as I should; but I'll get into it
properly -- with you -- and hopefully we shall become experts
together." "That would be fun," I said. "I'll try a fairly heavy
foundation," said Jan; "we have to get rid of any beard shadow.
In the future, that won't be a problem, and we can be a lot more
subtle." She took two blobs of cream from a jar, using the
fingers of both hands, and put them on my cheeks. Then she
proceeded to massage my face, gradually working the cream into my
skin. As the layer spread over my features, I saw my complexion
change, and take on a more feminine appearance. Jan worked for
some time, trying to shade the colour properly; "That doesn't
look too bad, does it?" she said. She dusted powder over the
surface; "How does it feel?" "Not as sticky as I thought it
might," I said. "It looks very nice, and I'm sure I shall get
used to it. At the moment it's rather pleasant; it's just another
of those nice little signals that indicate femininity." Jan
smiled. "Now for the piece de resistance," she said; "let me fix
your lipstick." I felt a little thrill as she said that, and sat
entranced as she filled out my lips in a bright crimson. That
completed the picture, and I looked at my reflection in awe; it
really was the image of a woman. She was not strikingly
beautiful, but to me she had a definite attraction.

"You look nice, Rita my love," Jan said, carefully studying her
handiwork. "The hair and face really do work for you, and with
practice, we'll make you into a stunning beauty." I squirmed
happily again. "Eye makeup can be very effective, too," Jan
continued, "but it is a lot of work, and takes some skill to be
effective. I think we should leave it for now. Your eyebrows
should probably be thinned out and shaped a bit, but the whole
impression really is quite good. There's no doubt you are
feminine." I just sat and looked in awe at my reflection in the
mirror. "Well Ms. Rita," Jan said, "you can't spend your whole
life sitting admiring yourself in your boudoir. The weather's
beautiful now, why don't we go out for a walk. It's time to
introduce Rita to the world." I knew she was right, but I still
had some qualms; however I realised that this was the critical
step, one which had to be taken, as soon as possible. "OK," I
said meekly, and went to look for some shoes. I took a pair of
'sensible' walking shoes, with heels that were not excessively
high, and had a practical width. "I'm ready," I said, plucking up
my courage. "You need a purse," Jan said; she found me one of
hers that was small and quite elegant, with a shoulder strap. I
slipped it over my shoulder, and followed her to the door.

I stepped outside with very mixed emotions. One part of me was
very apprehensive, wondering what lay in store out in the world
and away from the private shelter of home. But I also felt a
thrill; I was a woman called Rita, and I was going out into a
public space, just as any woman might do. I would walk down the
street, wearing a dress, and passers-by would see me; they would
look at Jan and I casually, and see nothing remarkable, just two
women out for a walk together. I realised with a quick intake of
breath that the males might take more than a casual look, and
think about whether I was attractive or not. The street wasn't
busy, and we had walked for a block or so before anyone passed.
It was a middle-aged woman, and she gave us a quick look and
smiled briefly as she went by. Jan squeezed my hand "The first
encounter," she said. A couple of men then passed, and paid us
very little attention, but I saw a group of three teenaged girls
approaching, and realised this would be a more critical test.
They were busy in conversation, and looked up when they saw us;
they stood aside to let us pass and gave us a friendly smile, as
Jan thanked them. As we left the street, and made our way into
the neighbourhood park I smiled my relief at Jan. "That was the
critical test," I whispered. "From my reading of other people's
experiences, teenage girls are the most difficult to fool. They
are at the stage of worrying about their own image, and they make
very critical assessments of others, and pick up all the little
signals." "I remember that stage," Jan said, "I spent my whole
time comparing myself with other females, and wondering what
ideas I could get from them. But I don't think you should say
'fool'; you are showing yourself in your true colours." "I
suppose I am, but there must be a lot of residual indicators of
my former self. What's interesting is that as a fully qualified
female, I am almost exactly at the stage they are; I'm searching
for my own image, and very interested in others for just that
reason."

We had reached the small lake, and sat down on one of the
benches. I smoothed out my dress, and thrilled as I felt the
delicious things underneath it. We sat for a while in the sun,
and an elderly man came by, and sat himself down at the end of
the bench. He smiled at us, and said "A nice afternoon, ladies."
"It is indeed," said Jan, returning his smile; I gave what I
hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded, afraid to let my voice
give me away. The man sat quietly, watching the ripples on the
water, and seemed to have accepted us quite casually. He looked
up at us from time to time, but didn't appear to be unduly
interested. He certainly did not seem to have detected any signs
that warranted further inspection. Eventually Jan looked at me
and said "It's probably time for us to be getting back, Rita." I
nodded agreement, and we got up and smiled at our benchmate, then
walked back along the path. Once we were out of earshot I said
"It doesn't seem to be too bad, so far. That's what most of the
people say recounting their experiences. It isn't even necessary
to give a flawless presentation; unless there are too many
jarring signals, people simply accept you for what you appear to
be." "That makes sense," Jan said; "why would anybody assume
otherwise?" "If they look hard for signs, they might find them,"
I continued. "At this stage the voice would be a real giveaway,
so I must get to work on that. But the most important thing is to
have confidence; if you're confident in what you do, then most
people will accept you. What they pick up is not the little
gender signals, but the awkwardness that goes with lack of
confidence; once they sense something that doesn't jibe, then
they will start looking for the reason." "You've been doing your
homework," smiled Jan. "Yes, but it's easier said than done. All
I have to do is have confidence, but that can't be turned on to
order. Trips like this do help though, I'm beginning to feel
quite good about it, and I just love the way my dress moves in
the breeze." Jan smiled and squeezed my hand again.

We passed a fair number of people on the way back home, and some
of them smiled or even spoke in a friendly manner. None of them
seemed in the least suspicious or puzzled, and I began to feel
that they were actually seeing something close to what I saw in
the mirror, even though my picture was coloured by wishful
thinking. Once back inside the front door, Jan hugged me tight.
"You passed, Rita my love!" she said. "You've come out; you've
made your debut, and now we can work on making things better and
better." "The voice is the most important thing now," I said.
"I'll try and get in touch with a speech therapist tomorrow. "We
must get outside as often as we can," Jan said. "I don't know how
you feel about restaurants, but there are some lesbian hangouts
we could go to for starters. After all it would be particularly
appropriate now." She winked at me.

That evening we went to bed quite early. I unbuttoned my dress,
and slipped it over my head; then I carefully put it on a hanger
in the closet. "I suppose I am required to dress in these clothes
all the time, now," I said, in mock resignation. "Of course," Jan
said. "You will have to learn that being a woman requires a lot
of dedication. To look your best always, you will have to deal
with minor discomfort." Jan knew how I felt about feminine
things, and played along with my kidding. "Do I have to wear the
girdle all the time?" I asked plaintively. "Yes. I don't want to
see you without it. It just wouldn't be you." Jan started
giggling. "Well, just for you," I said, and kept it on as I
climbed into bed by her side.

Tuesday, July 13th. The next morning I phoned the office of a
voice therapist whose name I had found on my extensive list of TG
resources. She offered services specifically for the
transgendered, and was prepared to deal with clients privately.
She suggested that I come to see her for an initial chat that
afternoon. I got Jan to help me with my makeup again, and decided
to wear the dress. It was already becoming obvious that I would
need to get some more clothes, and there was the cold and wet
weather in the winter to think about too. I drove off on my own
to the office, and walked inside. The receptionist looked up with
a smile. "I'm here for an appointment," I said. My voice must I
have made it completely clear why I was there, but she didn't bat
an eyelid. "What name was it?" she asked. "Rita Opal." "Ah, yes.
You're right on time, and you can go into the consulting room
now." The therapist was a strikingly beautiful woman, with a
lovely contralto voice -- a perfect advertisement for her skills.
"Please sit down," she said. "May I call you Rita?" "I'd like
that," I replied. She didn't register any surprise at my voice,
either. "What can I do for you, Rita?" "Well," I said, "you can
see my appearance, not devastatingly beautiful, but hopefully
sufficiently unambiguous; I need a voice that will go with it."
She smiled "I see." "I am a transsexual, and I have just started
transition. I plan to dress and live as a woman full time,
starting yesterday." She smiled again; "You started just that
recently? Your presentation is really very good. There's the odd
little clue I might have picked up, but of course it's my
profession, and I do have some experience. The voice certainly
needs some work, but with a little effort you will be completely
convincing."

I felt a little easier, hearing her opinion, and I hoped she
wasn't just buttering me up. "I take it you were making no effort
to modify your voice," she continued. "No." "Then it isn't very
deep for a male voice. With some practice, you will be able to
speak in a higher register, without too much effort or
discomfort. But the essential thing to learn is simply the way in
which women speak: the phrasing, the modulation and even the body
language. It's those things that are the real indicators, and if
they signal 'woman' then everyone you meet will make the
assumption that you are a woman, and will be completely
convinced. A lot of women do have fairly deep voices, one or two
lower than yours even." "What's the procedure?" I asked. "If you
can manage it, I would like you to visit me three times a week,
at least to start off with. A half hour at a time is enough. I'll
listen to you, make suggestions, give you tapes to work with, and
you will have to practice and practice. In time, it will become
second nature to you." She reached into one of the drawers of her
desk and took out a tape casette. "Take this with you," she said,
"and listen to it this evening. Then try to speak just the way
the voice on the tape does. Don't worry about pitch, just try to
get the phrasing and modulation exactly the same. It might help
if you could make your own tape, so you can really listen to
yourself. That will give us something to start with; can you come
tomorrow afternoon?"

She took me out to the receptionist, and I arranged to have a
half hour appointment Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at four
o'clock. "I look forward to working with you; see you tomorrow
afternoon." I drove home happily, feeling that things were under
control, even though I had several daunting tasks ahead of me.

After dinner I sat down with Jan, and listened to the tape. We
would listen to a phrase, or sentence, then I would repeat it. It
was clear from listening to my own voice played back that my
natural speech patterns were subtly different, and I tried to
reproduce the phrasing and modulation of the woman's voice on the
tape. "This is really fascinating," said Jan. "All these little
things we do so instinctively, but they send signals that every
hearer picks up. They are picked up, without any conscious
analysis." "Yes," I said, "it's always interesting to try and
figure out exactly what we do with actions which are normally in
the background of our consciousness. The trouble is that I have
to do a lot of them consciously now; hopefully I can be
reprogrammed, and eventually run things in the background again."
"I'm sure you will," said Jan. "I can already pick up the
differences in the way you were saying some of those phrases. It
will become second nature." She was so enthusiastic and
encouraging, and I thought how much more difficult my path might
have been without her by my side.

Wednesday, July 14th. The next morning I decided to wear a skirt.
My preference is definitely for dresses, but I thought it was a
good idea to get used to a variety of different things. It was a
fairly full green skirt, and I wore a contrasting shirt-style
light top. I wore the same bra again, and a white slip. I sat at
the vanity, and combed the long hair of the wig, wishing that it
was really my own hair. Then I decided it was time for me to try
makeup on my own, and I put on foundation fairly liberally,
trying to do exactly what Jan had done. The effect didn't seem
too bad, and I finished things off by doing my lips very
carefully with the bright crimson lipstick. "How do I look?" I
asked Jan, when I had finished. She looked at me attentively;
"It's you," she said. "It's the Rita I know, and she's starting
to look very pretty." I thought that she was probably a biased
observer, but it was a nice boost for my self-confidence. "I'll
do then?" "Of course you'll do," she said. "But we must get a
good book on cosmetics, and work on eye makeup; that would make
things even better. I'll see if I can find a video this
afternoon, too."

I went off that afternoon to the voice therapy session. I was
getting more used to being outside now, and was worrying much
less about what might happen if I was read. I certainly would be
if I had occasion to speak to anyone, so I thought that my
current appointment was none to soon. The therapist greeted me
warmly, and sat me down in a comfortable chair. "Let's try some
of the phrases on the tape," she said. She played the first one,
and asked me to repeat it. "That's really quite good; you must
have an ear for the subtleties of speech." I didn't do quite so
well with some of the others, and she got me to repeat them,
speaking them herself, too. She would exaggerate the emphasis on
words, and the way the tone changed through a phrase; I found
that very helpful, and was able to follow her example. I was
finding it easier, but it still didn't come naturally, and I had
to think every phrase through before speaking it. When I remarked
on that, she said "of course, but you certainly can follow the
examples, and with some practice, you will start to speak that
way without doing so consciously." She gave me some more tapes,
and told me to spend an hour or so each day working with them.
"Now let's see what we can do about pitch," she said. "Anyone can
speak in a higher register, even falsetto, but it doesn't sound
natural. It isn't a good idea to try for too high a register
either; if you get all the other things right, you can be as
successful as Marlene Dietrich!" She smiled. "The thing is to try
to raise the pitch just a small amount at a time, and try to get
that happening without thinking about it. It's a good idea to
think of a musical sound in your head, part of a song you know
well, for example, and try to match your speaking voice with one
of the notes in it." She got me to try speaking with my voice in
different registers, and I found it wasn't really difficult; the
trick was to use the higher register instinctively. She told me
to speak more quietly too. "You are really doing well," she said
finally; "it will still take a lot of work, but the results will
be well worth it. Keep working at the things we have talked
about, and I look forward to seeing you again on Friday."

Out on the street, I was just about to get into the car when a
man came up to me and asked for directions. I knew the street he
was looking for, just round the corner, and realised I was now in
at the deep end. I pointed, and said quietly "It's one block down
the next street on the right." "Oh, thank you very much ma'am."
He smiled and went on his way. I seemed to have passed muster,
but it did occur to me that he might have had worries about being
lost, and wouldn't be particularly tuned in to looking for
anomalous cross-gender behaviour in everyone he met. All the
same, it was a pleasant feeling to have passed another little
test, and I began to realise that most people aren't looking for
all the little signals that might give the game away. They take
people as they appear to be at first sight, and don't pay too
much more attention unless they see something really strange or
striking. I resolved to be as 'usual' as I possibly could, and
amused myself by thinking that the platinum blond hair, mink
stole, fishnet stockings and flamboyant makeup would have to wait
for a while.

I still was quite high when I got home, and when Jan greeted me
with "How was it?" I pulled out all the stops, turned on my
modulation and said quietly "Fine. I just love that dress you're
wearing. It's peachy." I smiled sweetly at her, as a look of
amazement came over her face. "I take it the voice therapy is
doing something," I said; a broad smile spread over her face.
"Rita, my love, that's fantastic!" She hugged me, and I said in
my best imitation of a basso profundo "But I'm not sure whether I
can keep it up for too long." She recovered quickly: "That too;
oh dear!" she said and giggled.

I told her about the encounter in the street; "I do feel a lot
more at ease, now. But the whole time I have to be thinking about
what I should do, and how I should be doing it; the good thing is
that if I can do it, then with some practice, I should be able to
do it naturally without having to think about it." "I'm very
impressed," Jan said. "I suppose the main thing is your deep
desire, which will keep you working at all these things, but you
seem to have chosen some very good people to work with you. It's
obvious we should get you as much exposure as possible; why don't
we go out tonight to that lesbian place?" "I think I would like
to," I said, "but I won't guarantee to be too garrulous, except
of course to you. I imagine in that place, they will be used to
pairs of women locked in quiet conversation with one another." "I
got a couple of books, and a video, on makeup," Jan said. "Why
don't we make our first exploration into the mysteries of eye
makeup?"

That's exactly what we did. Of course Jan was not exactly a
neophyte like myself, but her knowledge of makeup was based on
her experience of what she had tried and found to work for her;
she hadn't made an in depth study of all the subtle details that
experts wrote about in fashion manuals. She was now gung-ho to
become a real expert, and the topic caught my interest too,
probably because it was another of those special things that
belonged in the world of femininity. However, neither of us
wanted to start our formal studies in cosmetology just before an
evening out. "Let's just wing it, for this once," said Jan.
"There will some people who look a lot stranger, where we're
going." "That sounds like fun," I said; "what shall we try?"
"Well," said Jan, "the basic items at our disposal are eyebrow
pencil, eye shadow, eye liner, and mascara. We could also use
false eyelashes, but that might be carrying things to excess. Why
don't we try all the others?" "I'm game," I said, "but I think
for this once I should place myself in your experienced hands.
How about doing your test run on me? Then you'll have honed your
skills for yourself." "OK," said Jan, "but you must thin those
bushy eyebrows first." My eyebrows weren't actually too thick, as
I used an old beard trimmer on them periodically. But I dutifully
went off to the bathroom, and trimmed them very close. I
considered shaving them off completely, but then I would be
completely dependent on Jan's skills with the eyebrow pencil. I
thought it might be a good idea to visit a beauty salon for a
makeover, eventually, to see how they dealt with the problem.

"That's better!" said Jan. "Now sit yourself down at the vanity,
and I'll see what I can do to create a femme fatale." She worked
for a long time; she started with the eyebrow pencil and shaded
my brows so that they arched a little more. Then she outlined my
eyes with a fine black line, and spread a little metallic blue
shadow on my eyelids. Finally, she applied mascara to my upper
eyelashes with a minute brush. When she had finished, she sat
back to view her handiwork; I studied my face in the mirror
intently, too. The effect was certainly striking, almost extreme,
but stopped just short of being garish. Most important to me, the
effect was unmistakably feminine; it proclaimed my gender in no
uncertain terms. "It makes a statement," I said, fluttering my
exaggerated eyelashes. "I think I can live with it, but I hope
the sisters of Lesbos don't read me as a drag queen." Jan
giggled; "It's not that bad," she said. "A queen, certainly." "I
hope I won't outdo you," I said, "or are you planning on
something in dyke mode?" "Certainly not, I shall try to make
myself as feminine as you are, if that's possible; it's up to
them to figure us out."

She sat down at the vanity and started work on her own face. She
followed the same sequence, almost exactly as she had for me;
when she had finished, there was a remarkable similarity between
us. Our features were quite different, but the common style of
makeup made us seem related. It was a nice feeling; Jan was my
lifetime companion, and lover, but we also were sisters now; that
was an idea that I found very comforting.

We set off for Sappho's; it was a bar, casual and quiet, and they
served quite good meals. There were tables, set up for small
groups, mostly couples, and about half of them were occupied. My
first quick glance at the clientele made me think it would be
very interesting to study them in some detail later, hopefully
without making my curiosity too obvious. We sat down at a table
in the corner. One of the servers came over and smiled at us. She
(I assume) was androgynous in appearance, almost boyish, with
short hair, and dressed in unisex shirt and pants. Looking
closely, there was a definite indication of a bosom, and she
spoke in a female voice without any attempt to disguise it. "Can
I get you something to drink?" "We should get a bottle of wine,"
said Jan. "What do you think, Rita?" I summoned up all my skills
in voice modulation and said "Oh yes; let's get a dry white." The
server didn't register any surprise, and suggested Sauvignon
Blanc. "That's good," I said, "and we'll take a look at the
menu." Jan smiled approval at me as the server left to get our
wine; "You really are doing quite well," she said. "It's hard for
me to judge, knowing you from a previous life, but it's obvious
that people do find that your voice is quite consistent with your
appearance. It's low, not deep exactly, and it does sound like a
woman's voice." "Just as well," I grinned, "since that's what I
am."

We looked at the menu, and were ready to order when the wine
bottle and glasses appeared. "Who would like to taste the wine?"
asked the server. "My friend," I said, motioning to Jan; "she's
the expert." Jan took a sip, and pronounced the wine
satisfactory, then we sat back to take a look at our
surroundings. There were couples at all the nearby tables, most
of them appeared to be pairs of women, more or less like us, but
in some cases one of the two had a severe cultivated masculine
appearance. There were some obvious 'femme' women there too. We
could hear snatches of conversation from the neighbouring tables,
and I heard one voice that clearly sounded like a male. I looked
quizzically at Jan, who had obviously heard it too, and she
winked at me. I arranged to turn my head casually, as I sipped my
wine, and tried to get a look at the source of the voice. It was
one of the most obvious 'femme' types, very elegantly dressed and
with makeup so exotic that it even put Jan and I to shame. The
speaker saw my glance, and gave me a friendly smile.

Jan and I sipped at our wine, waiting for the food to arrive. We
chatted together, talking about the place, its ambience, and the
clientele. It was very pleasant there; there was a nice feeling,
hard to define, and I came to the conclusion that it had a safe,
non-threatening atmosphere. I remarked on this to Jan, saying
that it might well be because the people there were exclusively
female. At least, I thought correcting myself, they were all
presenting themselves as female. Apart from myself I did pick out
one or two others that I suspected were transgendered males of
one sort or another. As the evening progressed things got a
little more lively; more people came in, just for a drink, and to
pass the time with their friends, and people were walking around
and chatting with one another. The deep voice at the neighbouring
table had paid one or two visits to friends at other tables, and
passed by ours. "Hi!" (s)he said, "I don't think I've seen you
here before. I'm Annabelle." "Hello," I said, "I'm Rita, and this
is my partner Jan." Jan smiled her greeting. "You look very
good," said Annabelle to me, winking, "I'd say much better than a
passing grade." I was a little taken aback, but not upset, and
smiled back; "Thanks, I hope your reading skills are better than
average." "Why don't you join us for a minute or two," said Jan,
to my surprise. "Well thank you, I will," Annabelle said, taking
the vacant chair at our table. "If you're wondering what gave you
away," she said, "the answer is not very much. It's just that
people who are 'in the game' develop a sixth sense. I got a very
faint signal on my antenna, and confirmation when I saw you
looking at me." "You look very good, too," said Jan; "that's a
fantastic dress. But I'm curious about what you make of me."
"You're the real McCoy, honey," Annabelle said. "No offence,
Rita." "I'm working on it," I said with a grin. "Good for you; I
think you'll make it with top marks. I'm just a simple CD, out
for a fun evening. I like it here, because they are very
accepting and don't hassle me." "It is a nice place to be," I
said. "Jan and I thought this would be a good place to check out,
and I think we're qualified. I've now realised that I am TS, and
I have just started my RLT. It's a challenge, but I am enjoying
every minute of it so far." "In a way I envy you," said
Annabelle, "there are times when I think it would be great to
just switch over, and live in a nice femme world all the time,
but there's another side to me that won't give up." She smiled
again, and went on her way to visit another of her many friends.

"Interesting!" I said to Jan. "It's fascinating what variations
there are across the gender spectrum. I hope it didn't bother you
that I opened up like that, but it's always good to make contact
with others in what I call gender space." "It's fine my love,"
said Jan. "I like you all the more for what you now are, and I
did do some active encouragement. You are being very courageous
in dealing with the consequences, and the least I can do is try
to do the same. We both have to live with it, and it's something
that has to come out in the open." "You're just wonderful," I
said and hugged her. She put her arms round me and kissed me.
None of the good people in Sappho's seemed the least bit
concerned, or even interested.

Thursday, July 15th. My first appointment with the laser clinic
was the next morning. I was very tempted to go there in drab,
since it was necessary to go without shaving, in order to present
enough stubble to be picked up. I couldn't disguise it with
makeup either, since it was also necessary to present my naked
skin. I struggled with myself for a few minutes, then decided I
had no choice but to go as Rita; I felt I had made a commitment
to myself when I started my transition. I was somewhat more
apprehensive than usual, but I hoped that the wig and skirt would
be sufficient to declare my gender, without anyone peering too
closely at me. Fortunately it was early in the morning, and I
carefully found a parking spot right outside the clinic, then
ducked in through the door as quickly as I could while the
sidewalk was free of passers-by. I breathed a sigh of relief once
I was inside, and smiled at the receptionist. "I'm Rita Opal."
"Yes," she said, "we're ready for you right away, but it took me
a moment to recognise you." "I'm sure," I said; "I'm afraid I am
not too presentable at the moment, but I was told to come in this
state." "Oh, that's normal," she said kindly; "it's the hair and
the clothes. You look very nice." A very professional looking
young woman came out to the reception area; "Rita?" she said.
"I'm Melanie; I'll be looking after you today." She took me into
a room at the back, and got me to sit down in a reclining chair,
beside an impressive looking machine. "We shine the beam on quite
a small area of your skin for a minute or two, and gradually work
our way over the whole surface. Just to be absolutely safe,
please wear these dark glasses." The glasses she handed to me
were very dark indeed, and I could hardly see, even in the bright
fluorescent light. "It might be better if you took the wig off
too, if you don't mind," she said, in a completely matter-of-fact
manner. "It will keep your hair out of the way." She took my wig,
and set it carefully down on the counter. I was glad of the dark
glasses, and hated to think of the strange hybrid picture I must
have presented. She started the machine, I felt a slight tingling
on my chin; it wasn't pleasant, but was well below my tolerance
for pain. I hadn't really known what to expect, and this
certainly seemed better than what I had heard of electrolysis,
where some people even took novocaine injections to get them
through the sessions.

It was not pleasant, though, and as Melanie worked her way over
my cheeks, chin and throat I began find it less and less
pleasant. The areas which had been treated felt odd, as though
they had a mild sunburn, and I wondered if I could last out the
whole session. I did, but not without having to summon up all the
fortitude I could muster. I was there for an hour and a half, and
after what seemed like an eternity, Melanie said "We're finished
now; you've been wonderful to work with." She took the dark
glasses, and passed me my wig; I felt happy to get it on again,
and finally dared to look in the mirror. There didn't appear to
be any stubble on my face any more, but the whole area was a
blotchy red colour. "It will be a little sore for the rest of the
day," Melanie said, "but the redness should be gone by tomorrow
morning. Please call us if you experience any problems." She
helped me up out of the chair, and squeezed my arm as I left. "I
admire what you are doing," she said; "It's wonderful. And you
will be happy when you find how beautiful you can be." I thanked
her, and went out to the reception area. "It doesn't feel too
nice, does it?" said the receptionist. "But you'll feel better
quite quickly, and you'll be very happy with the results. There
will be some small amount of regrowth, and we can deal with that
the next time. In a month, I think?" I made a follow-up
appointment, and left, walking out to my car without even
thinking about what anyone passing by might think.

When I got home, Jan was waiting for me, and she looked
concerned; "How was it?" "Not very pleasant at all," I said, "but
they tell me that I shall probably live, and may even look
reasonably normal by tomorrow." "You're a brave girl," she said,
and cheered me up immediately with the feminine appellation.
"What do you want to do?" "I think I'll lie down for a while. I'm
sure it won't take me too long to get over it." I went into the
bedroom, and couldn't be bothered to take my clothes off; I just
flopped down on the bed. Jan knew just what to do; she followed
me, and lay down by my side, taking my hand in hers. I began to
feel better immediately.

I always enjoyed being close to Jan, and lay quietly with her for
a long time. I finally decided that I didn't really feel too bad,
and started to rub my nylon clad toe against her leg. She
squeezed my hand, and turned to face me. "No regrets?" "Not at
all," I said. "It really wasn't too bad an experience, and they
claim that after three sessions there will be nothing left to
cause any concern. It will be good to have it out of the way,
though." "You are really taking on everything all at once," Jan
said. "Do you think you might be going in too much of a hurry?"
"No," I replied. "Now I'm certain about what I want to do, and I
want to be able to live fully as a woman. I understand what was
going on all those years, and I feel as if they were wasted; I
don't want to spend any more time in games and fantasy." "That's
what I hoped you would say," Jan whispered. "But those years
weren't wasted; we had a wonderful life together, and I needed
them to catch up to you." I rolled over too, and we snuggled
together.

Friday, July 16th. The next morning the world did seem much
better. I woke early after a long night's sleep, and when I
looked in the mirror I saw that the redness on my face had almost
disappeared. I dressed happily, enjoying my basic pleasure in
putting on feminine clothes, and decided I would wear the dress.
It was a lovely dress to wear, but I knew I would have to go
shopping soon; it wasn't possible to survive with just one decent
dress. I brushed my hair carefully, and wondered how long it
would be before I could venture out with my own hair arranged to
suit me. I sat down at the vanity, and started to work on my
face. The redness vanished under a light application of
foundation, and I thought that my skin felt smoother already. I
decided to try using some of the eye makeup, and tried to fashion
my eyebrows into a more pleasing shape. I carefully outlined my
eyes with the liner, just as Jan had done, and even tried just a
hint of shadow on my eyelids. I decided that trying mascara
wasn't a good idea. I heard Jan stirring then, and turned round
to see that she was watching me with great interest. "Hello, my
love," I said. She smiled; "Eye makeup already, at this time in
the morning!" "Of course," I said. "A girl has to look her best.
I also need a lot of practice." "You look nice," Jan said. "I
don't think I shall be able to keep up with you once you get into
your stride."

She took her time getting up, while I went to the kitchen and
started the coffee going. When she eventually appeared, I saw
that she was ready for anything; she had a very smart skirt and
blouse on, with pantyhose, and had done a very careful job with
her makeup. "You look wonderful, Jan my love," I said, kissing
her very carefully so I wouldn't spoil her efforts. "Are you
going out this morning?" "I thought I might," she said, "but only
if I can persuade my special girl friend to come with me." We sat
down to coffee. "She would love to," I said. I felt silly
referring to myself in the third person, but did so because I
could refer to myself as 'she'. We sat drinking our coffee, and I
thought about the journey I was taking, and the progress made so
far. There were still some aspects of it that I was quite worried
about, the main one being the matter of coming out to all the
people who knew me. But most of the steps I was taking now were
no longer causing me any concern, and I felt quite happy in the
progress I was making. I was certainly enjoying being Rita full
time, and in public. My mind went through the things that still
needed to be done; "Maybe we could go shopping this morning," I
said to Jan. "I need some more things now, like dresses and a
range of different ensembles. I'm also not too well prepared for
cold and wet weather; sooner or later I shall need a decent
coat." "That's a good idea," said Jan. "We could walk over to the
local stores, and see what they have. It'll be nice to look round
a bit, and we don't need to get everything today."

After a few more sips of coffee she said "And you really need to
get some accessories. We could look at jewelry too." That gave me
an idea; "I really want some nice earrings," I said. "I've always
wanted to wear them. Maybe I could get my ears pierced." "You can
get them to do it at the jewellers," Jan said. "It's a good idea.
Earrings will look nice with that hairdo." I was all gung-ho to
go now, and I wanted to look in all the stores selling women's
things; I thought that my voice would just about get me by, and I
was no longer too concerned.

We set off down the sunny street, and I enjoyed the feel of my
dress moving as I walked, and the sound of our heels clicking on
the sidewalk. I took one of Jan's purses, and though it wasn't
overflowing yet, I had put a few essential makeup items in it. I
was no longer afraid to talk, and we chatted as we walked along.
I still watched to see how the people we passed reacted, and none
of them seemed to find us too unusual. "I'm a bit stuck now with
these credit cards," I said. "I think it's time to face up to
that challenge; I'll have to go to the bank next week, and
explain things to them. I'm sure I can simply change the name on
my account, and hopefully they will give me a card in that name."
"I'm sure they will," said Jan; "after all you have been a good
customer of theirs for a long time." "That's the trouble," I
said; "I think they are going to find the transformation a bit
strange. But I'm beginning to realise that if they do, it's their
problem, not mine."

We got to the stores, and walked slowly along the block, looking
in every display window that featured anything feminine. There
was a jewelry store, and I saw a sign in the window saying that
they did ear piercing. "This I have to do," I said, and we went
inside. I made a bee line for the display of earrings. They had
some very nice ones, and a couple caught my eye because they were
ornate and dangling. "What do you think about these?" I asked
Jan. "I like the metallic one," she said, "and I think it would
suit you nicely. I thought so too, and when one of the clerks
came over to us I told her that I was interested, and that I
wanted my ears pierced. She asked me to follow her into a room at
the back of the store, and got me to sit down. "We use this
punch," she said; "it's really not painful at all, but you may be
startled by the noise it makes." She took what looked almost like
a gun, and carefully slid a slot at the end of the 'barrel' over
my right ear lobe. "Could you just hold your hair back?" I did,
and heard the punch go pop. She rubbed some ointment over the
hole, and said "Now the other side." Another pop, and I was ready
for earrings. "I didn't really feel anything," I said. "If I had
realised it was that easy I would have done this a long time ago.
But I just fell in love with those earrings." She smiled and led
me back into the store. "You'll need some keepers too," she said.
"It's important to keep the hole open all the time; they do tend
to close up." She sat me down at the counter, and carefully fixed
one of the earrings, then the other. There was a mirror on the
counter, and when I looked at myself I knew it was a good choice.
"What do you think, Jan," I said. "They are very nice," replied
Jan. "They do suit you, and they work with that hairstyle." "I'll
wear them," I said to the clerk. "Put them on my card, please,"
said Jan. She was thinking fast; I was so taken with the earrings
that I had completely forgotten about the name on my credit card.

Back out in the street, we continued our walk. There was a
variety of stores, smaller than the big ones downtown, but some
of them seemed to have quite a variety of stock, judging by the
window displays. I realised that although I knew the area quite
well, there were many establishments that I had never paid any
attention to before. There was one in particular that caught my
eye as we passed; it had a beautiful display of dresses, with a
silky green print that grabbed me the moment I saw it. "Look at
that dress!" I said to Jan. "I have to have a dress like that."
Before she could respond I was walking in the door. We were
greeted by a very helpful saleslady, who smiled happily as I told
her I would like to try a dress like the one in the window. They
did have it in my size, and very soon Jan and I were in one of
the changing rooms. I quickly took off the dress I was wearing,
and stood there in my slip for a moment savouring the prospect of
enveloping myself in the silky material in my hand. Jan helped me
ease it over my head, and as the material slithered down over me
I was almost overcome by the delicious tactile sensations. It did
fit me quite well; it was a little more full in the bust than I
was, but I thought hopefully that in time that would be remedied.

"It's a must," I said to Jan, "and I think I'm going to wear it,
right now!" She smiled at my enthusiasm, and said "It is nice,
and I think it really does work with your hair." We left the
changing room and I told the saleslady that I had to have the
dress, and I couldn't bear to take it off now that I had tried
it. She laughed: "I'm glad you like it; I must say that it really
does suit you. Now is there anything else you would like?" "We'll
take a look around," I replied. Jan and I wandered around the
racks, and I found two more dresses that I couldn't resist, even
though they didn't have quite the same impact on me as the one I
was now wearing. Living my new feminine life to the full, I tried
both of those on too, and decided they would help to fill some of
the gaps in my wardrobe. Finally I put the silky green back on,
and we went out to deal with the saleslady. This time I was
ready; "I've think I've forgotten my card," I said to Jan; "would
you be a real darling and lend me the money until we get home?"
"Of course," Jan said, with an amused smile, and she reached in
her purse for her credit card.

Outside again, with our packages, we decided it was time to have
a cup of coffee, and sat down at a table in the little coffee bar
next-door. "Maybe that's enough for now," I said. "I don't want
things to get out of hand, and I should probably give some
thought to planning my wardrobe. Impulse buying is fun, but it
doesn't always result in one being prepared for all situations."
Jan agreed; she was obviously enjoying the new experience of
being out with a girl-friend, and she was happily sharing my
pleasure in the occasion. "I must look at lingerie, too, one day
soon," I said; "there are a lot of nice things that I would like
to get." "The house is almost filled with your lingerie already,"
Jan said; "I couldn't start to make an estimate of how many
garments there are with suspenders." She was laughing at me, in a
kind sisterly way, and I responded in kind. "But you have to
understand that in one respect I haven't changed at all. My
tastes are exactly the same, and now I have to deal with some
changes in shape and size. What I need in bras is quite different
now, and I will never have enough slips and panties." Jan laughed
out loud; "No, you haven't changed after all."

Monday, July 19th. I decided to go to the bank on Monday morning,
and I realised that this would be the first of many occasions
where I had to 'out' myself. I would have to explain to people
that I was now planning to live as Rita, instead of my former
self, and deal with their reactions. I knew that most of them
would not be familiar with the phenomenon of transition, and
there would be a variety of reactions, most likely surprise and
curiosity; there was no guarantee of a sympathetic response like
that of the professional people I had dealt with. I hoped I would
not run into outright disdain or hostility.

I looked very carefully at my face as I was getting ready, and
there certainly was much less evidence of beard. I decided the
residue was not sufficiently recovered from the laser treatment
for shaving to be effective, and made myself up fairly heavily. I
wore the new green dress, and set off with my purse over my
shoulder. I felt happy about the way I looked, and the way things
were going, but I was a little apprehensive about how my meeting
would turn out. I went into the bank, and walked to the customer
service area at the back. "Can I help you?" asked one of the
women who was free. "Yes," I said. "I have a rather confidential
matter to discuss in connection with my account; I think it would
be best if I could see the manager." She looked a little
surprised at my request, and was on the point of asking me
another question, but went off to the manager's office. She
returned quite quickly, and said "Ms. Pendleton is free now,
could you come this way?" I followed her over to the office, and
the manager greeted me with a smile, and asked me to sit down.
She closed the door, and went back to her desk; "What can I do
for you?"

"Thank you for seeing me like this," I started. "I didn't give
the clerk my name, and I appreciate the fact that she took me at
my word that the matter was confidential. The point is that it
involves my name. I have an account here, and I have dealt with
this branch for over twenty years; you'll find that the total
amount of my various deposits is quite substantial. Here's the
account number, and you'll find that it is in the name of
Reginald Opal." She looked at me with some surprise, and began to
put two and two together. I smiled, and continued; "That is no
longer very convenient, as I plan to dress and present myself as
you see me. The fact is that I am transsexual, and I am now
living full time as a woman. The complication is that my legal
status and name will not be changed until later." The manager was
very interested, but she didn't seem particularly upset by what
she was hearing. "What would be most convenient," I went on,
"would be for me to open an account and get a credit card in the
name I now use. I have ID of course, but everything refers to me
as male, and with the wrong name. My question is whether you can
help me do that before I get my documents changed." She thought
for a moment. "I don't see why not," she said. "You can open an
account in any name you want, and we can use your former self, if
that's the correct way of putting it, as the guarantor. Of
course, there would have to be a cross-reference on our records,
and we would use your existing social insurance number." "That
sounds good," I said. "of course the connection has to be known,
and will be a matter of public record in due course anyway. I
could probably continue to use my existing account without too
much trouble, but I do need a credit card in the name I actually
use." "That's not a problem," she said; it would be backed up by
the bank account, and obviously the credit is established by your
existing deposits."

"What I'll do then is simply open another account, and apply for
a credit card, both as Rita Opal," I said. "That will be fine,"
Ms. Pendleton said. "I'll go and get the forms, and you can fill
them out here." She came back in a moment, and I filled out the
forms; she wanted me to sign in both names. "There's no need for
this to be secret," I said, "and realistically it can't be. I
thought it best to ask for you, rather than spring the
complicated situation on an unsuspecting teller." She smiled;
"You're welcome," she said. "I don't know how many people there
are in your situation, but there are enough of them that there
have been some references in our various instruction manuals; the
situation didn't catch me completely unprepared." "In any case, I
very much appreciate the considerate way you have dealt with it,"
I said. "Thank you very much." "I'm happy to be of service," she
said. "It has also been very interesting to talk to you. If I
might make a personal comment, I must say I found you completely
convincing in your new role. Once you had identified yourself,
and I looked closely, I think I could see traces of someone
familiar, and then it did seem that there was something  a little
odd about the voice." "I'm working on that," I said. "Thank you
so much once again." I walked out of the office, and through the
central area surrounded by the tellers' wickets. I knew there
would be some juicy gossip running around there very soon, and
that I would excite a considerable amount of interest at my next
visit.

As I drove home, I reviewed the logistics of the many legal and
bureaucratic matters that had to be dealt with. Ideally a legal
change of my name would be the matter to deal with as soon as
possible; many of the other things were dependent on that. With
my name legally changed, I could renew my driver's licence, and
they would take a current picture. If I could persuade them to
put an 'F' designation instead of the 'M', then I would have a
useful piece of ID to use for changes to other documents. The
most difficult would be to get my passport changed, and that
probably would be impossible until I had SRS. It occurred to me
that it might be a good idea to get some legal advice, and I was
certain there would be a lawyer somewhere in the city that had
some experience dealing with transsexual people. I decided to try
and find one as soon as possible.

Back home, I told Jan about the helpful bank manager. "It turns
out to be quite easy to get my own money," I said. "I am the
guarantor, using my old signature, for a new account in the name
of a person who is very real to me, but is still legally a
fiction. On that basis, they will give me a credit card. I didn't
ask, but I assume that means I could also give them as a
reference." "That's wonderful!" said Jan; "I have always been
happy with the service there, and this is certainly a plus for
them in my book." "I've been thinking about the other things,
too," I said. "There's the driver's licence, and a legal change
of name, for starters, and some of the steps depend on others
being done first. It might be a good idea to find a T* friendly
lawyer." "Good idea," said Jan. I sat down at the computer, to
see what I could find on the web. Given the right contacts, there
is an enormous amount of useful information and advice,
accumulated by many of the people that I knew, electronically at
least, from the transgender mailing lists and web pages. Sure
enough, I found the name of a lawyer in the city who specialised
in handling transgender issues; she was a transsexual herself. I
called and made an appointment to see her.

Wednesday, July 21st. The appointment was a couple of days later.
I took a great deal of care getting ready; I knew in this case it
wouldn't matter, but I felt it was a matter of honour to do my
best when I was going to meet one of my 'sisters'. I wore the
green dress again; there was something about it that felt just
right, and it was becoming one of my favourites. In the lawyer's
office, I introduced myself to the receptionist, and gave my
name. "Take a seat," she said, Ms. Johnson will see you in just a
moment." I had barely sat down when a strikingly beautiful woman
came out of the inner office, and held out her hand. "You must be
Rita," she said. "I'm Sarah Johnson. Please come into my office."
She indicated a plush chair, and sat down behind the large
immaculate desk. With a very pleasant smile she said "What was
the matter you wished to discuss with me?" "Something quite
straightforward, I hope," I said; "Rita Opal is not presently my
legal name, but I would like to adopt it legally." "What is your
name now?" "Reginald Opal." "Aha!" Sarah said, with a friendly
smile. "I was almost certain. What stage are you at, now?" "Just
about the beginning," I said. "I started RLT about a week ago,
and this morning I persuaded a friendly bank manager to allow me
to spend my own money, signing my name as Rita. That's all so
far, and I know there are some other matters to deal with; I
thought it would be a good idea to get some advice from someone
who knows the ropes." "You are TS then?" "Without a doubt. I'm
free and well enough off that I can choose my own path; I am very
much enjoying changing myself from fantasy to reality, and I see
SRS as somewhere about a year from now." "I like your attitude,"
said Sarah; "unfortunately reality involves some legal matters,
but things are not too difficult; this society is relatively
enlightened."

She took a notepad, and started to write. "The change in name is
probably the thing to do first," she said. "There shouldn't be
any difficulty, and as you say it makes a lot of other steps
easier. There are no legal restrictions on anyone taking any name
they choose, but a judge has to be satisfied that the name change
is for a legitimate reason; the only real prohibitions are to do
so for fraudulent purposes, such as avoiding debts. The procedure
is to file an application; it will be posted in a court gazette
for three months, and then if there are no objections from any
interested party, a judge will hear the application. The reason
given would be that you are transsexual, living full time as a
woman, and you wish to have a name consistent with your
appearance; in most cases a ruling to allow the application is
made immediately. We can file the papers right away. Once your
name change is approved, then you are free to use it on any
documents, such as applications for credit cards, opening bank
accounts, signing contracts, and so on. The driver's licence is a
good idea too; getting it changed avoids minor bureaucratic
problems if you do happen to be stopped by the police, and of
course it is a useful identification, complete with a picture.
The problem there is the designation of sex; strictly speaking
the rules say that can not be changed until your legal status is
changed, which is only possible after SRS. But an application for
a driver's licence doesn't require supporting documents; the
procedure there is to go and apply for a new licence, taking the
official change of name; they take your picture at the DMV
office, and you can then ask them to correct the obvious error on
your file: the 'M' clearly should be an 'F'. Whether the clerk
will do that or not depends on how fussy they are, and how they
interpret rules which are somewhat vague, but there's a TS woman
who works at one of the offices, and the trick is to arrange that
you deal with her. She has been very helpful in letting us know
how to make sure one of us can get to deal with her."

"It seems to me that covers all the immediate matters," I said.
"Right," she replied. "Of course getting records fixed after SRS,
and getting your passport changed have to be dealt with
eventually. As regards SRS, this isn't strictly a legal
consideration, but unless you are planning to submit yourself to
the mercy of a surgeon in some exotic foreign country, you will
need to get letters from psychiatrists. Have you seen a shrink,
yet?" "No," I said, "though I realise that it is necessary." She
smiled; "A necessary evil. I suspect you don't need to have your
motives and mental state examined at great length, but you do
need the letters. It's a good idea to get one as soon as
possible; I recommend that pre-op people carry a letter from a
shrink stating that they are transsexual, living as a woman, and
should be treated as a woman. That can be useful in dealing with
bureaucrats who are looking for an excuse to hassle you -- it
could help going through customs, for example. In your case, I
would go and see someone who is knowledgeable about gender
issues, and supportive, as soon as possible. I would recommend
Wexler; at the appropriate stage he can refer you to someone
equally helpful for the second letter."

"It begins to sound as though things are not too difficult," I
said. "We seem to be treated reasonably well by the legal system
and the bureaucrats." "That is true, now," she said; "it wasn't
always that way, but there are enough of us for society to be
aware of the issues, and there is more tolerance for 'alternative
lifestyles' these days. The most difficult part is how to deal
with friends, relatives, neighbours, and all the people that knew
you as you were. I'm afraid I can't help you there; all I can do
is give moral support. You will probably find that it isn't too
horrendous, once the word is out; there will be the odd person
that just can't handle it, but those are the sort of people that
you are better off without, and it helps to find out who they
are." "I'm not looking forward to that aspect of things," I said,
"but it has to be done, and soon. Thank you for your assistance;
you have been very helpful." "You're welcome," said Sarah. "I'll
call you when I have the name change application ready for you to
sign." She got up and came round the desk, and hugged me; it was
a wonderful feeling -- I knew that I belonged to a community, and
my sisters there would be supporting me all the way along my
path.

I wasn't sure whether Dr. Wexler would require a referral from my
family doctor (another 'outing' to worry about); I called his
office, and explained to the receptionist that I was transsexual,
and needed to get assessment from a psychiatrist. She seemed to
take it as a routine matter, and was very friendly. She told me
that the doctor was on vacation, but would be back after the
August holiday; she was able to give me an appointment at the end
of that week. I felt that things were moving at quite an
acceptable pace now, and I was enjoying my new life to the full.
Everyday matters no longer caused me any undue concern, and Jan
and I went out together frequently; we went out shopping, and to
restaurants, and as the good summer weather continued we did a
lot of walking. The speech therapy really seemed to be helping me
present myself convincingly; it wasn't second nature yet for me
to speak 'as a woman' but it was certainly becoming less
difficult. The subtle changes in my body were more noticeable, to
me at least, and there was no doubt that I was developing
something of a waist. My breasts were still small, but very
definitely there.

Sunday, July 25th. One fine evening Jan and I had been for a
walk, and as we came back we passed one of the neighbours, a
widow who lived next door. We were not close friends with any of
our neighbours, but we did get on quite well, and usually passed
the time of day, and had the odd conversation over the backyard
fence. The lady saw Jan, and said "Hello." then looked at me
slightly puzzled. Jan returned the greeting, and I decided it was
time to make myself known. "Hello," I said. "you're wondering if
you know me or not. I've been your neighbour along with Jan for
twenty years, but there's been something of a change in me this
last month. It's been happening for a long time, and finally I
decided to accept the fact." She looked at me in surprise;
"You're Reginald!" "Yes," I said. "It's more accurate to say I
was; I'm Rita now, and I hope we can carry on as good
neighbours." "I see the resemblance now," she said; "so you have
changed your ..." "I'm a transsexual," I said. "These things
don't happen overnight, but I realised that I wanted to be a
woman, and over the next few months I shall gradually become one
more and more." "I've seen one or two on TV," she said, "but it's
quite a surprise to find one living next door; I don't quite know
what to say." "You'll get used to me," I said; "believe me, I'm
the same person inside, but I finally came to realise my true
nature." We went up to the house, and left her standing in her
front yard, with her amazement still showing on her face. "There
goes the neighbourhood," I said to Jan when were in the house.
"The word will be all over the street in no time. It had to be
done, and I'm curious now to see how people will react." Jan
squeezed my hand; "We can't keep it secret," she said. "The
sooner people know about it the better. You're happy, and I'm
happy, and if they realise that, then it will hopefully just be a
topic for gossip for a few days."

An hour or so later the phone rang. Jan answered and said "It's
for you," with a smile. It was our next door neighbour; "Hello
Rita," she said. "I was taken by surprise when I met you just
now, and I wasn't very polite -- I must apologise." "There's
nothing to apologise for," I said. "It isn't something that
happens every day." "Maybe not," she said, "but as I told you
there was a similar story on TV a while back. You remember that
policeman?" "Yes." "It was a very interesting story, and he -- I
suppose it's 'she' now -- explained about his feelings and why he
decided to do it. I was quite impressed, and I think you're being
very brave. I hope everything works out well for you." "Thank
you," I said; "I appreciate that very much. Things were just like
that for me; I had this feeling inside that I was really a woman,
and it got stronger and stronger; one day I realised that there
was no good reason for me not to admit it to myself -- and to
everyone else." "It must be very difficult to meet people, and
explain things to them," she said. "I guess so. I haven't figured
out the best way to do that yet, but it's now time. The fact is
you are the first person to know." "Well, I never!" "But it isn't
a secret," I said, "so don't feel that you shouldn't say anything
to any one else. It would probably be helpful if you did talk
about it to other neighbours; I say that because I appreciate
your understanding. It was very kind of you to call." "Oh not at
all," she said, "I did want to apologise for my rudeness in the
street. I'll have to get used to calling you Rita now; that's a
lovely name."

"If everyone responds like that, then things aren't going to be
too difficult," I said to Jan. "Fortunately we don't know too
many fundamentalist christians or gay bashers; my guess is that
most people will be polite and even pleasant to our faces, but
one or two will have real problems dealing with it. They may feel
sufficiently awkward that they won't want to talk to me. C'est la
vie." "It's hard to tell," Jan said. "The problem is that it is
relatively rare, so people have not encountered it, or thought
about it. But there are enough news stories, nowadays, so at
least it isn't something completely unheard of." "A lot of people
will think it's a symptom of being gay," I said. "That doesn't
bother me too much, but the irony is that I was heterosexual
through and through, and I'm changing my gender to become
lesbian." Jan grinned; "I'm the one that is weird. I'm sure they
are all wondering about me too."

Wednesday, July 28th. An envelope came in the mail from the bank,
and I opened it eagerly; as I hoped it contained a new credit
card with the simple name Rita Opal embossed on it. I felt an
immediate urge to go out shopping and use it, and it seemed
appropriate to make this the occasion to look at lingerie. Jan
had been quite right when she remarked on the enormous selection
that I had accumulated over the years, but lingerie in general,
and foundation garments, particularly those with suspenders, were
a special delight of mine, and my taste for them was as strong as
ever. It was a sign of the times that the yellow pages no longer
contained any reference to girdles, and there was very little
under the heading bras; lingerie seemed to be much more
promising, and some of the advertisements in that section did
seem to hint at the items of special interest to me. One in
particular was for an establishment called The Feminine Mystique;
it claimed a large selection of feminine lingerie, loungewear and
sleepwear, and even made specific reference to foundations, bras
and girdles.

I decided it was a place to check out, and told Jan what I had in
mind. She decided it was a good idea to let me go off on my own,
to enjoy myself with things that catered to my own very personal
definition of femininity, so I drove over to the shopping mall
where the store was located. It was quite large, and there was a
variety of items in the display window that made me catch my
breath, and I realised that I had come to the right place. Inside
there was a very large area of racks justifying the claim made in
the advertisement, and on some of the display counters in the
corner I saw an enticing display of girdles and corselettes. I
started to wander around happily, looking over the vast selection
of intimate feminine garments; as I walked up and down, feeling
as if I were in paradise, a saleslady came up to me. "Are you
looking for anything in particular?" she asked. She was quite
elegant, very friendly, and I felt an empathy in her manner. "Not
really," I said. "I am interested to see just what things you do
stock, and I am impressed by the selection you have. I'm sure I
shall find something I just have to have." She smiled at me; "We
do try to cater to all tastes," she said. "I see that you do. I
happen to like wearing stockings with suspenders, and I enjoy
wearing a girdle; it seems to be an old-fashioned taste, and I
didn't think there were many of us left." "You'd be surprised,"
she said. "They certainly aren't to the taste of many women these
days, but there is a very definite market for elegant foundation
garments. Let me show you some of the things we have." She led me
over to the counter, and I was staggered by the display of
garments. The variety of girdles, panty-girdles, corselettes and
basques would have been impressive even in the 1950s. "I'm not
sure I can do justice to this display at the moment," I said,
"but I assure you I shall be back. I need to take stock of what I
have, and I have had something of a change in my size recently,
so I'll make a long visit one day soon. I would like to look at
slips, though, and I definitely need some panties."

She had a wonderful selection of slips; they were silky and
smooth, and many were elegantly tailored in the style I loved,
also unfortunately somewhat outdated, with lacy hems and cups,
and slim elegant shoulder straps. I selected two, a black one and
another in white, and then went to look at panties. The choice
was large, with a variety of colours and styles; I chose some
with 'sissy' frills and flounces. They appealed to me, and I had
not really worn any in that style before. The saleslady wrapped
my purchases carefully, and took my new credit card to process
the sale. "I am very fond of things that strike me as feminine,"
I said; "exactly what that means is quite personal, of course,
but there are particular things, hard to describe, that appeal to
me for some reason." "I know what you mean," she replied. "I
think it is one of the pleasures of being a woman, and I enjoy
working in this business. Thank you, and I hope to see you again
soon."

I knew that she would, as I realised that the place would be
irresistible to me. It would always have been a delight to me,
but now I could wander around freely, as a woman, accepted as
someone who belonged there, and take my time savouring the many
delights that were on display. It was a wonderful feeling to be
accepted in such an environment, and to find that my appreciation
for lovely feminine things was regarded by those I encountered
there as completely natural.

Friday, August 6th. The morning of my appointment with Dr. Wexler
I went through what was now my daily ritual. I dressed, and once
again couldn't resist the green dress; I brushed my hair, and
then sat down to do my makeup. I was getting much more skilled at
the task now, and I took great care; I wanted to make an emphatic
statement about my femininity, without going to excess. I used
some eye liner and chose the bright crimson shade for my lips.
"Good luck," said Jan, as I left; "I hope he isn't going to
commit you." I drove over to the hospital area; the office was in
a nearby medical building. As I rode the elevator up to the tenth
floor, I felt quite at ease, and noted with interest the odd male
glance in my direction. I introduced myself to the receptionist,
and she immediately ushered me into the doctor's office. He was
seated at his desk, and got up to shake my hand; "Good morning,
Ms. Opal," he said, "please sit down." He indicated a comfortable
looking armchair. I sat down, and with some deliberation crossed
my legs, and carefully smoothed the skirt of my dress. He watched
me with interest, obviously sizing me up. "I understand you are a
transsexual," he said.

"Yes," I replied. "I started presenting as a woman about a month
ago; I have had hormones prescribed, I am attending speech
therapy three times a week, and I am having laser treatment for
removal of my beard." "It sounds as though you are quite
serious," he said smiling; "it would probably be helpful if you
told me something about your history, and what prompted you to
come to this conclusion." "I have been a fetishistic cross-
dresser for my whole life since puberty," I said. "I was
fortunate in finding a partner who was happy to accommodate my
desires, and we spent a very happy thirty years together in a
comfort zone. About three years ago I had prostate surgery, and
found myself unable to achieve erection; I became very frustrated
when I realised that ejaculation was also no longer possible, and
therefore I could not experience a male orgasm. I went through a
very bad few months, and had an overwhelming fixation on cross-
dressing. My partner was very helpful, and we experimented in
attempts to produce erections. That didn't work, but I did
discover that my penis was still very sensitive, and began to
experience great pleasure when it was manipulated. I began to
experience orgasm again, but of a different kind, and I realised
that it was very similar to female orgasm. That realisation
enhanced my pleasure, and I eventually discovered that sex was
better than it ever had been if I identified myself as female
mentally. My partner was excited with what happened to me, and
played along with my fantasy; things got so good that we had a
second honeymoon. I found myself more and more interested in
feminine clothing, and ornamentation, and got great pleasure from
my mental identification. Eventually, I realised that I wanted to
make my fantasy into reality. I wanted to wear feminine clothing
all the time, and present myself in public, and I also wanted my
own breasts. My female sexual identification now makes me desire
penetration.

"I wouldn't presume to second guess your professional opinion,
but my self-assessment is that I was probably transgendered all
along, and the sexual frustration after prostate surgery knocked
down some barriers in my head. It seems significant to me that
sex is now better than it ever was, as a male, and I found myself
wanting more and more to explore the feminine side of myself,
eventually to the exclusion of anything else." "That's very
interesting," said Dr. Wexler; "and how has your partner
responded to this?" "That is the absolute joy of my present
situation," I said. "The notion that I was transsexual had been
in the back of my mind for some time, and I didn't want to deal
with it. Jan was the one who raised it. She told me that she had
been doing some self assessment too; she had realised that the
more feminine I became, the closer was our relationship. She came
to the conclusion that she had shifted in her orientation, and
become lesbian. She told me that she wanted me to become a
woman!" "Indeed!" he said. "On the face of it, there doesn't seem
to be too much to explore. Both of you are happy with your
current lifestyle, and there's no obvious reason why it shouldn't
be facilitated. You understand that I do have to satisfy myself
that what you say is not wishful thinking or part of an extended
fantasy?" "Of course," I said. "To be completely candid, my visit
to you is prompted solely by the need for an assessment
confirming my transsexual nature; I need that in order to have
surgery. But I appreciate that it must be your professional
assessment, and I shall be happy to do whatever I can to convince
you that I am representing my situation accurately. As I see it
there is no 'problem' to deal with since I am happy, and
presumably well adjusted, following my desires. I certainly have
no desire to be 'cured'; I'm now very happy where I am."

"Your case is very interesting," Dr. Wexler said. "You have
reached a definite conclusion, and have well thought out desires,
but it has happened at a relatively late stage in life. I think
your idea about your transsexuality being present from an early
age, but dormant, may well be valid. There was no stimulus to
awaken it until your previous 'comfort zone' became
uninhabitable. Of course you were exhibiting some cross gender
symptoms previously. I am also quite intrigued by the role your
partner has played, and I would appreciate an opportunity to talk
to her, too. Maybe I could see both of you on your next visit."

He then started to ask me questions about my previous cross-
dressing phase, and the critical period after my prostate
surgery. He was interested in my responses on a whole range of
topics, what my feelings were, how I reacted in various
situations, and my attitudes to life in general. It wasn't clear
to me what the point of some of his questions was, but I realised
he was attempting to check my veracity, and look for other
indications that would justify my conclusions about myself. He
kept me for almost an hour, and finally smiled at me. "I think I
have sufficient information now," he said. "It seems fairly clear
to me that you are transsexual. Whether you comply with the rigid
rules laid down isn't really significant; as I see it you wish to
follow through with a certain process, you have come to that
conclusion with a full understanding of its implications, and
there is no reason why you should be prevented from doing so.
Please make an appointment for next week, for you and your
partner. I'm sure I'll be prepared to write a letter for you
then, but remember that the SOC does require that you have been
consulting me for a period of three months." He shook my hand and
followed me to the door.

I arranged an appointment for the same time the following week,
hoping that Jan wouldn't have anything booked that would conflict
with it. On my way home, I reviewed the session; my conclusion
was that it had turned out very well.

When I got home Jan was very interested to hear what had
happened. Dr. Wexler's assessment of me was vital to my ultimate
goal, and neither of us had any previous experience with
psychiatrists. "It went very well," I told Jan. "I think he
agrees with me that I am TS, but I told him that it was really
all your idea, so he would like you to come along with me next
week." "You did, did you?" she said. "I might have guessed this
would happen. Transsexuals are ten a penny now, and you can't
look at a talk show on TV without seeing one. For real weirdness,
you have to examine a genetic female who cohabits with a TS." She
hugged me lovingly. "It's a good idea, though. I'd be happy to
see the good doctor and give him my side of the story."

Thursday, August 12th. Each morning now I went through a daily
ritual of making up my face, and had a great deal of fun
experimenting with various different looks. The basic skills were
becoming natural to me, and no longer presented any difficulty; I
happily fixed my lipstick during the day whenever I thought it
was necessary. As I examined my face, it was clear that my beard
was recovering from the laser treatment, though the growth was
very much reduced. My rough estimate was that the 30% figure I
had been told at the clinic was a good description; it seemed
their claims were quite valid, and I hoped that would continue to
be the case. The problem was that I still had to shave every day,
and I sometimes repeated the process later, if we were going out
for the evening. I was fortunate in a related matter, though; I
had very little body hair. There was virtually none on my chest,
and the fine hair that grew on my arms and legs was dealt with
easily; I don't think I had to work any harder at removing it
than Jan did with hers. It also seemed to me that it was less of
a problem than it had been, and I attributed that to the effect
of hormones. This particular morning, I had my second appointment
at the laser clinic, so I did not shave, and I cleaned my face
carefully, so that there would be no residue of makeup. I set out
feeling strangely naked, and hoped that my appearance wouldn't
excite too much attention.

It was quite early in the morning; I was able to park right
outside the clinic, and I walked across the sidewalk without any
concern for passers-by. The receptionist greeted me warmly; "Hi
Rita. You look very nice; the treatment seems to have worked very
well." "I think so," I said; "I'm really hopeful that there will
be very little left to worry about after today." Melanie was
ready to see me, and led me into the room at the back. She looked
at my face intently, and said "It looks very good; we really did
achieve a large reduction last time. After today, we shall almost
be there!" She gave me the dark glasses, and said "Let me take
the wig." She took my wig, as she had on the last visit. "Your
hair is getting longer," she said; "next time we'll have to tie
it out of the way. It's filling out too; I think you should get
it styled -- your hair would be shorter, but it could be arranged
to look very attractive." "I hadn't even thought about that," I
said. "It's a good idea, though; thanks." Melanie got to work,
and I steeled myself for a fairly unpleasant hour. I felt the
tingling sensation on my chin, but it didn't really seem too bad.
"I still have to cover the whole area," she said, "and I'm afraid
it will take just as long." It did indeed, and by the time she
had finished, I had really had enough. The whole process seemed a
little more bearable, though, and I think the fact that it did
appear to be working effectively helped me to put up with it.

I took off the dark glasses, and looked at myself in the mirror.
My chin and throat were quite red, but it didn't seem quite as
bad as it had the previous time. Before I put my wig back on, I
took a long look at my hair. It was getting quite long, and
almost covered my ears; what I did notice, though, was that it
really was quite profuse on the crown of my head; instinctively I
ran my hand through it, and discovered that it had a fine
texture. The colour wasn't particularly attractive, but I thought
to myself that it could easily be altered. I put the wig back on,
and realised that it was getting tricky to fit it over my natural
hair, in fact some was showing over my ears. "Thank you," I said
to Melanie; "and thank you very much for the comment about my
hair. I'm so used to looking at myself and fixing makeup with the
wig on, that I hadn't really thought about what was happening
underneath." "It really could be fixed very nicely," she said,
smiling; "then you'll have two different ways to present
yourself!" As she led me back out to the reception area, she said
"Make another appointment for next month; I think that will
complete the treatment. You're a very patient client, and it's
nice working with you. Bye." "Goodbye," I said, "and thank you
once again." I made a date with the receptionist, and after a
little chat -- girl talk that gave me a nice feeling inside -- I
left. I stood outside for a moment enjoying the sunshine; a woman
passed by and looked at my face with some curiosity; I smiled at
her, and realised that I didn't really care what she was thinking
about me.

I took a long drive on the way home. The weather was beautiful,
and I felt very happy about the way things were progressing; the
scenery was as wonderful as ever, and I was in a mood to enjoy
it. Some times my present state seemed natural, as though I had
always been there; at others I found myself suddenly being aware
of the changes. I drove along the sunny roads, looking at the
mountains, and felt very happy that I could do so wearing my
beautiful green dress. I got home finally, and Jan seemed a
little concerned about my lengthy absence. "I'm sorry, my love,"
I said. "I wasn't thinking. I felt so good about the way things
are going that I decided to enjoy the sun, and take the long way
home." "You were quite worn out the last time," Jan said; "was it
easier?" "Not really. But the woman who looked after me made some
comments about my hair, and it really bucked me up. It's grown
quite long, and she suggested it might look nice if I got it
styled." Jan hugged me. "You really are starting to react like a
woman," she said. "I like it!" For once I didn't react with my
usual banter; Jan's acceptance and encouragement of me was
sometimes overwhelming, and I had a squirmy feeling inside me at
the thought of being feminine, and having her happily reinforce
the idea. "I'd like to go to a hair stylist and see what they
suggest," I said. "I really do feel good with long hair, and I
can't wait for mine to grow long enough, but it would be fun to
see what could be done by somebody really skillful." "Gloria, who
does mine, is very good," Jan said. "Why don't you go and see
her?" "I think I will. Shall I just go as is, or do you think it
might be a good idea to explain what I am?" "I don't know," said
Jan. "I do have an appointment with her in a couple of days; I
could raise the subject of drag, and even TS, and see what her
reaction is -- just as a hypothetical question, of course." "Of
course," I said, "you're capable of doing that, too. Seriously
though, it would be interesting to find out if she doesn't recoil
in horror."

Friday, August 13th. The next morning my face had almost
completely recovered, and when I sat down at the vanity, I saw no
trace of beard at all. I felt my skin, and it did really feel
pleasantly smooth. That didn't prevent me from doing my daily
routine with makeup, but I tried to go fairly easy with the
foundation, and I attempted to get a much more understated
effect. I still used a prominent colour of lipstick, since I had
come to regard that as one of the symbols of my feminine state. I
also used the eyeliner, very fine, and was finally quite pleased
with the overall results. I still had not established a well
defined image for myself, but I was having a great deal of fun
experimenting. Jan watched with interest as usual. "You look very
nice," she said, "and you really are getting good at doing it.
I'll have to put in some practice to keep up with you." "Well," I
said, "now's a good time. We have to see Dr. Wexler later on this
morning, and you should consider how to present yourself. I don't
know what he expects, but I think natural femininity might work
well." "I think I could manage that," she said; "it's
comfortable, and I feel at ease with it, almost as much as you
do."

As we drove across town to the medical building, Jan and I
chatted happily. "I think this will be very interesting," I said;
"I hope you aren't worrying about it." "Not at all," she said. "I
feel really much the way you do. Things have changed, quite
dramatically I suppose, but I am very happy with the way they
have worked out. It took me a while to realise what had happened,
but looking back it was obvious. It's up to the doctor to decide
whether we are well-adjusted, but he seems to have the right
attitude; why put road blocks in the way of people who know what
they are doing and are happy about it?" I smiled at her; "It's
still wonderful how we both changed, in step all the way. It's
something most people would be very envious of." We took the
elevator up to the tenth floor, and the receptionist smiled at
us. "Rita Opal," I said, "and this is Jan; Dr. Wexler wanted to
chat to her too." "That's Jan Opal," put in Jan. "Oh, thank you,"
said the receptionist, making a note. I didn't detect any
reaction from her.

After a few minutes, Dr. Wexler came out of his office. "Hello,
Rita," he said. "This is Jan," I told him. "Hello, Jan," he said.
"I'm pleased you could come too. Please come into my office." He
had two chairs set across from his desk, and we both sat down. I
repeated my performance of crossing my legs and smoothing my
skirt, just as I had on my previous visit, and I saw with some
amusement that Jan was doing exactly the same. "How are things
going, Rita?" he asked. "Very well," I said. "Every day I feel
more at ease, and things seem to be slowly fitting into place. I
had my second laser treatment yesterday, and the woman there was
kind enough to remark on my hair, without the wig. She suggested
it might be ready for styling now." Dr. Wexler turned to Jan. "I
had quite a long chat with Rita last week," he said. "She told me
basically what has happened over the last few years, and
explained the way she feels about things now. I asked her a lot
of questions, and my feeling is that she knows what she is doing,
and is very happy with her current path; so there doesn't seem to
be any reason to put obstacles in her way. Many of my transsexual
clients have had great difficulty dealing with their existing
relationships and attachments, and very often their desires are
not understood or welcomed by those close to them. From what Rita
told me, you are reacting very differently. I would like to hear
your assessment of what has happened to her, and your reaction to
it."

Jan thought for a moment. "You know the basic facts," she said,
and Dr. Wexler nodded. "Rita has always had an interest in
feminine things. It was primarily clothing to start with, but her
desire was sufficiently strong that she felt it necessary to tell
me about it very early in our marriage. I didn't find that cause
for concern; it just didn't bother me, and if anything it added
excitement to our love-making, though I didn't understand the
feelings that caused it. After her prostate surgery, when it
became clear that our previous happy sex life was no longer
possible, she went through a very bad time, much worse than I
realised. All I saw were the symptoms; she seemed preoccupied,
and spent hours and hours typing away at the computer. I didn't
know what it was all about, and I began to wonder if I was losing
her. She told me about an email correspondent, though I had no
idea what they spent so much time chatting about. One day my
curiosity got so great that I asked her point blank about the
person. She answered, but her remark that it wasn't easy to say
whether it was a man or a woman provoked further questions from
me, and she answered all of them and opened up completely. We
talked for the whole weekend, and it continued for months after.
I had two reactions: the first was relief that I hadn't lost her
at all, and the other was a wonderful feeling of empathy for
someone who was able to lay bare her soul so completely. It
brought us very close. An almost immediate result was an
incredible second honeymoon; we couldn't bear to be apart, we
spent the days making eyes at one another, and we made love
several times a day to our mutual satisfaction. That lasted the
whole summer; in a sense it still continues."

"Obviously you had found a means of satisfying her sexually,"
said Dr. Wexler. "As she described it, a female identification
became an essential part of her enjoyment of sex." "It did
indeed," said Jan. "I responded positively, and got drawn in to
what she called her fantasy. We had always enjoyed life together,
and we had a happy marriage, much better than most, but things
got better and better. Rita was very happy to feel uninhibited
about talking to me about the things that were exciting to her,
and she began to explore her feminine inclinations more and more.
Each time she 'pushed the envelope' my response seemed to be that
things got even better. Eventually I began to make her fantasy
mine, and I even thought of her as feminine; I started calling
her 'Rita' quite happily, even naturally. Our love making
necessarily involved mutual manipulation, by hand; Rita thought
that it was essentially lesbian, and I suddenly became convinced
one day that it was precisely that. I took great delight in it,
and also realised that it would be even more delightful if she
were a woman physically. I felt that would add even more to our
relationship, and the events of the last month have certainly
born that out."

I was utterly fascinated to hear Jan's lengthy discourse. She
wasn't given to the kind of self-analysis that I had got into
since my recognition of my transgendered state, so to hear in her
own words what I only knew of indirectly was a new experience.
Dr. Wexler seemed equally fascinated.

"That is a remarkable statement," he said. "It's all the more
remarkable, and certainly opportune, that your conclusions about
yourself match the changes that Rita has gone through. It's
almost too good to be true; I wonder if there is such a strong
bond between you that it transcends gender and your orientation
simply reflects an acceptance of the situation you are confronted
with. You were normally heterosexual as a young woman?" "Yes,"
said Jan. "I dated in the usual way, and even had one or two
short liaisons, before setting my sights on Reginald." "And how
do you react to males now?" "With interest, on occasion, but much
less so than before. I find myself looking at other women in a
different way, now, and in some cases I find them attractive. I
have also had some indirect contact with males that are
transgendered to some degree, as a result of Rita's interests. I
find myself very much in tune with them; I have a sense of
satisfaction in being a woman, and it seems natural to me that
men might want to attain that state themselves. I have never been
attracted to the macho stereotype; when I first met Reginald, as
he then was, he certainly showed no sign of being effeminate; he
seemed to be natural enough as a male, but he was considerate and
kind, rather than being an overbearing he-man. We really became
close friends." "Let me add to that," I put in; "being one
another's best friend is precisely the way I describe our
relationship. We happened to be man and woman so sex was more of
a very nice side benefit, rather than the main purpose of our
life together. We relate as people, and I sometimes think the
relationship does transcend gender as you say." "How would you
describe your sex life now?" asked Dr. Wexler. "If anything, more
intense than before," said Jan. "There was a heady period when we
first got together, but things settled down and became fairly
routine. It was probably more important to Reg than it was to me.
When Rita came out completely to me, it became more intense than
it had ever been, and things are still very good. I think they
get better as more and more of Rita emerges."

Dr. Wexler sat for a moment in contemplation. "This is really the
most remarkable situation I have encountered," he said. "Rita is
following a path that in many cases can be very difficult; she
seems convinced that it is what she wants to do; both of you seem
in complete agreement, you have clearly thought the whole process
through, and you seem to get happier together as she proceeds
along the path. It's almost irrelevant whether she is a
transsexual as defined by the professional guidelines; what is
more to the point is that there is no reason why her course
should be impeded. I appreciate you coming in, Jan; I must
confess that I was curious to hear what you had to say, after
Rita's account of your relationship. It is much more common to
meet lack of understanding, denial and even hostility from the
partners of people starting transition; very few relationships
survive after one of the partners has been identified as
transsexual. Fortunately your case is an exception; it is very
gratifying to see. I'll give you a letter, Rita, stating that in
my opinion you are transsexual; it will be useful in case you run
into any bureaucratic problems. Maybe you could come and see me
in three months' time; then I can give you a formal letter
recommending sexual reassignment surgery, and refer you to one of
my colleagues for a second opinion." He shook hands with both of
us, and wished us well as he said goodbye. After a brief
consultation with the receptionist to book the appointment, we
rode the elevator back down to the street level.

"I was very touched by the things you said," I told Jan. "Since
things got stirred up for me a few years ago, I seem to have got
very much into self-assessment and figuring out why certain
things appeal to me. I seem to want to understand what is going
on in my head, but I haven't really heard you doing