The service went by in a blur. Stephanie knew she said all the right things because no one looked at her strangely. The priest said “Husband and wife,” and Don kissed her without a trace of shyness, never mind all the avid gazes fixed on them both.

Then they swept down the aisle to the thrilling notes of the organ recessional, and off to the reception. Stephanie had insisted that she could not bear a tyrannical photographer, so they settled for a few posed shots taken by a good friend, then joined the party.

Their first dance was to a song neither of them had selected, but which was so painfully appropriate that Stephanie smiled up at Don and pulled him onto the floor.

To the lovely notes of Cinderella’s waltz with the prince from Disney’s version of the fairy tale, Stephanie sang softly, “So this is love…” Don looked down at her, his eyes shining as brightly as had those of any prince in any fairy tale.

They left the reception early, and the limousine spirited them off to a room at a high-end hotel. Don had made the arrangements for this and for the honeymoon, and Stephanie only hoped he could get his deposits back when he explained that the wedding was off.

They were both a little nervous when they arrived at their room, so they took a moment to examine the elaborate setting. Don had reserved a suite, rather than a room. Champagne and truffles had been set out on a low coffee table before a cozy love seat.

Nervous of the bedroom and its enormous waiting promise, they gravitated toward the love seat.

I bet we’re not nervous for the same reason, Stephanie thought. She glanced at the clock and saw it was a few moments before midnight. How appropriate. Time for Cinderella to transform back into a scullery… boy.

She got up from the love seat, stepped out of her high-heeled shoes, and peeled off her stockings with her toes. Then she moved across the room a few paces. Don half-rose as if to follow her, but Stephanie motioned him back, putting the coffee table between them.

“Don, whatever else happens,” she said, “I want you to know that I love you with all my heart and all my soul. If I have done anything selfish, anything thoughtless, well, that’s because there never seemed to be a right time.”

She could see that he thought he meant her refusal to indulge in premarital sex. Before he could reassure her, Stephanie raised one hand for silence.

“The time has come,” she said, and from somewhere she imagined she could hear a clock striking the first stroke of midnight.

The dress was remarkably cooperative in matters of fastenings. The little pearl buttons along the back had been easy to reach, and simple to fasten. They were even easier to unfasten.

Don had settled back in the love seat, his glass of champagne in his hand, his expression saying that he thought her surprise was far better than his. After all, who would have guessed his shy girl would undress before him?

Stephanie-for just this moment more, still Stephanie-smiled softly at him.

“I love you, Don,” she said, undid the final button, and started peeling down the close-fitting bodice.

The soft fabric folded down easily, and Stephanie waited for Don’s gasp of surprise when he saw that her curving bosom was an artfully stuffed bra and falsies.

He said nothing, and so she peeled the dress down to her waist. Still nothing, although Stephen’s trim waist could never be mistaken for that of a woman.

Don’s drunk! Stephen thought in desperation. He’s nearsighted and I never knew. He’s a virgin, maybe, and has no idea what a naked woman looks like.

Stephen dismissed that last. He knew perfectly well that Don was a normal, healthy heterosexual male. He’d have seen naked women, in pictures, if not in person, and quite likely in person as well.

Stephen continued his agonizing striptease, opening the skirt and stepping free of those wonderful, all-encompassing, all-concealing hoops and tiers. He kept his gaze locked on Don, but the young man’s face held only wonder and delight.

Stephen set the dress to one side and stood revealed but for his undergarments.

Come on! These panties don’t exactly hide what I’ve got. Say something!

Without realizing it, he had spoken the last two words aloud.

Don shook himself from his entranced wonder and grinned, a merry, feckless expression.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, my darling. Are you going to stop there? I mean, some men might prefer sexy lingerie, but I’d like to see my real, live girl in all her glory.”

Stephen blinked. He liked good undergarments, but the reality of keeping bound what needed to be bound and building up what needed to be seen had some restrictions. He had figured the game would be over by this point, so he hadn’t gone out and bought anything particularly elegant in the way of lingerie.

But maybe Don was more innocent than was possible. Maybe he wouldn’t understand until he saw the dangly bits.

Resolutely, Stephen reached to unhook his bra. The fabric felt silky to his touch, smoother than he remembered, and when it sprang loose the weight was all wrong. It should have hung, heavy with padding, but it swung as light as if it was made of nothing more serious than a bit of satin and lace.

“Oh, my god…” Don groaned.

Stephen braced himself, but the rebuke he expected did not follow. Don groaned again.

“Stephanie, get on with it, or this is going to be the most embarrassingly short wedding night in history.”

Stephen dropped the bra without looking at it, but he did look as he slid his hand into his panties to strip them off.

They were not, most definitely, not, the French-cut briefs he had put on that morning. They did not have an inappropriate bulge in the front. These were the panties of his dreams, bikini-cut and trimmed with just enough lace to be sexy. They did not hide the awkward bulge of a penis for the simple fact that the bulge was not there.

Stephen/Stephanie stared, and felt a flood of delight. She inspected her chest and found she had two round and perky breasts, just like the ones she had always imagined. She had a waist, too, and very nice legs.

Don was laughing affectionately.

“Stephanie, it’s as if you never realized that you were a girl! Come over here, right now. I’m going to carry you over the threshold in proper fashion while I still have the self-restraint to do so.”

And so he did, gathering her close, and whispering wonderful things as he carried her to their nuptial bed.

Glancing over Don’s shoulder, Stephanie saw the dress lying in a glittering heap on the floor and sent it a silent glowing whisper of thanks.

Then she gave Don her full attention and made him her man as he made her his woman.

LADY IN RED by A. M. Strout

When I packed in August for freshman year at NYU, my friends in Ohio warned me to get my degree and get out as quick as possible before New York City hardened my soul. “Lara,” they said, “You’re much too sweet, much too naïve, to make it in the Big Poisoned Apple.”

To them I simply sang the old Sinatra line my Nana had used to convince me to move out east in the first place. “If I can make it there,” I’d sing, smiling sweetly and giving a few Rockette-style high-kicks, “I can make it anywhere.”

I had laughed at their warnings at the time, but two months into my first semester I was standing in a thrift store on West 8th Street engaging in a tug of war with an old crone over a red hoodie that I adored. I was beginning to see what they meant. Nothing comes cheap in the city, and with the chill of October setting in, I was on the hunt for a little warmth with my limited student budget. I had spotted the most perfect little red hoodie half hidden by the press of clothes hanging on either side of it. It practically called out to me, and when I saw the three dollar price tag, I was over the rainbow for it. I took it down, carefully folded it over my arm, and was on my way to the counter when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and felt a tugging on my arm.