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Husband and wife celebrate the end of summer with friends.

By the time I completed my makeup and fixed my hair, it was almost time. I sipped on a glass of Pinot Grigio while Sarah, the ultimate female, made it all look easy, just slipping into some Lulu Lemon tights and top with a wrap skirt and sandals. A touch of makeup and a brush of her hair and she was done.

And I was overdressed.

She looked at me and smiled. "Don't worry. I told them you liked to dress up, I mean, really dress up."

She saw my look of apprehension. I wanted to get drunk.

"Yes, they'll be shocked, I know. Everyone will be, especially the guys. By the way, that reminds me, I've invited a different set of friends over every Friday night for the next few weeks, so everyone can meet Stephanie. After all that we can have a party with whoever remains friends with us, maybe a barbeque in the backyard. You can decide for yourself whether you want to be a woman for the big barbeque or not, because by that time, you'll be completely out of the closet; you can be who you want and choose to be. No more skulking around behind closed doors."

"I feel like a pervert," I said. I slurped the wine. Those old feelings of shame and guilt rose up like a tsunami, ready to wash me out to sea.

Sarah had a way of helping me that was unique. "Oh honey," she soothed, "You are a pervert. So what. I love you. I guess that makes me a pervert too, and the way I've been getting off on this lately, that certainly is true. But perverts walk alone; the perverted part ends when you come out of the closet. We'll find out who our friends are, who they really are. Won't we?" She touched her lips to mine so as not to mess up our lipsticks, and left to answer the doorbell.

The doorbell. Jesus. My pulse raced.

I walked behind her to the door and stood shaking in my high heels as Julie and Mitch entered, first handing Sarah a bottle of her favorite Shiraz. There was an awkward moment and then Sarah and Julie embraced, followed by Sarah and Mitch. That left me to wait for favors, and they came instantly and warmly.

Julie said, "Steve, Stephanie, look beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous! How do you do this? Incredible! And what have you done with Steve?" And she gave me a warm hug and a peck on the cheek while touching me affectionately at my new feminine waist.

I laughed nervously and said, "Well, thanks. Believe me, it's harder for me than you. I don't have the canvas to start with that you do. You look great."

Mitch was six foot six and carried 240 pounds. He came forward warmly but awkwardly, first putting out his hand for a manly handshake, then pulling it back and after shuffling briefly, hesitantly giving me a light hug, our hips three miles apart.

"Well," he said, "That was weird. Uh, you look great I guess. Unbelievable actually. I mean, as a woman. You look like a woman. Jesus, are those real?" He pointed at my breasts. He was like that, direct and innocent like a child.

I laughed and said, "My little secret, among others. How've you been buddy? I've been, umm, sort of distracted for the past few months becoming, uh, this."

"Jesus Steve, I would never have guessed this of you. I must admit, I don't understand it, but's still you I guess."

I started to feel a little better then, and I took the wine from Sarah and invited everyone to the living room while I opened the wine in the kitchen. From there I yelled in to the other room, "And Mitch, tonight I'm Stephanie. Any slip ups on that and you'll have to chug a glass of wine."

I didn't see him, but I heard him laugh and say, "Well, bring that wine in here right now...STEVE." And so the ice was broken. I couldn't believe it; they accepted me for who I was, and it was a huge relief.

As we got into the wine we sat around and caught up on the details of our lives over the last few months. It was easy talk, but I did notice Mitch occasionally staring at my waist or my breasts or legs. Finally, and because Mitch was simply like this, he asked me some questions. When he started everyone groaned.

"So, S

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