It was nine in the evening on December 31 and I was standing on a bridge looking down, far down, on the river where large chunks of ice floated. I was not going to jump. Not then. Actually, I was there to give me strength to go on. I was there to remind myself that there was an alternative to crime or prostitution even if things didn’t get better. Death before dishonor.

My relationship with my parents hadn’t been good for many years. Still, I was surprised to be thrown out on my 18th birthday. I still had a few friends that let me crash at their places for the few weeks to high school graduation. So at least I had my high school diploma. A good one, even if not great. Not good enough for scholarships so college was out of the question. I still moved to the nearby university town. The atmosphere there was more conducive to life as a t-girl. Well, some might have disputed that I was a t-girl. No hormones yet. I was all too well aware of the risks of doing it on the cheap. And I didn’t have money to do it the right way. As a matter of fact I didn’t really have money for anything. The change from comfortable upper middle-class life to having nothing hadn’t been easy. I guess I was lucky to find a part-time job as a waitress at a restaurant that catered to students that wanted something a little bit better than the uni canteen. My payment was food and accommodation. Leftovers from the restaurant and a bed in the shack at the back of the restaurant. That was on condition that I didn’t tell anyone. There was heating but no running water or facilities. For that I had to use the restaurant across the yard. I kept quiet and was happy to accept. Still, you can’t live on food alone. Even if you include tips. Tell you a secret, students aren’t normally great tippers. There were all those little things and my savings kept slowly melting away. The car I had saved that money for was only a bitter memory of a mirage

The situation as such wasn’t the worst part. What really got me was the lack of hope for anything better. That’s why it, in a strange way, was such a comfort to come to the bridge at night. And what night could be more appropriate than new year, the time of hope for the future?

I had just decided that I had had enough for the night and decided to head back to my shack to celebrate the new year with my single bottle of root beer when a voice penetrated my thoughts.

“Excuse me miss. Could you please help me get over to land. This bridge and the long, long way down to the cold and icy river makes me terrified.”

Well, since I’m a good an upright citizen I helped the poor guy. I was surprised to notice that I recognized him. He often ate at the restaurant. That meant that he must have more money than the average student. That impression was strengthened by his generous, though not overly so, tipping. He also had a slight accent which led me to assume he was a foreigner. I had also gathered that he was a freshman even if a few years older than his fellow students. Yes, I listened in on conversations. So sue me! It was interesting and didn’t cost me a penny.

“Miss, I wonder if you could do me another favor? I left an absolutely awful new year celebration and now find myself without company for the big event. Would you consider withdrawing to my apartment and share a bottle of bubbly with me?”
“No! For one thing you are drunk. I don’t like drunk people. For another I don’t follow strange men home. I’m not interested in sex. And even if I were I’m a boy and not a girl so you’d just be disappointed and then beat me up. So NO thank you.”
“Ah you’re wrong in so many ways. One, I’m not drunk. I’m under the influence but not drunk. Two, I’m not a strange man Miss Mary. We know each other from the restaurant where you provide such excellent service. Three as for your gender I disagree. I most certainly see you as lovely young lady. A fact well-known for the restaurant’s regulars. Four, as you correctly noted I’m not entirely sober. I’m still an honorable man. I hereby give my solemn oath that you will still respect me in the morning. Fifth, it is fifth, isn’t it? As you quite correctly noticed I’m not entirely sober. If you limit your intake of alcoholic beverages to one glass you will have no problem overpowering me in my inebriated state in the highly unlikely case I’d descend into less than honorable conduct. Something entirely unfamiliar for me I assure you.”

This may sound strange but somehow I felt I could trust him. And as I, as seen earlier, didn’t have any previous engagement I decided to accept the invitation.

“I accept. But beware, at the first sign of misbehaving …
“A gracious lady, I thank you. Shall we proceed towards my simple abode?”
“Most certainly my good man. I’m afraid that you have the advantage of me. You know my name. I don’t know yours.”
“Loony” Well, that was what it sounded like.
“What?”
“Louie. Like in Huey, Dewey and Louie.”

I later learned that it was spelt Louis but for me he always remained Louie, a strange mix of the early rascal Louie and the serious Junior Woodchuck ten-star general. I had expected the whole thing to flounder when we reached the dorms. Since we didn’t go to the dorms it didn’t flounder. We went to a two-bedrum apartment close to the university. Louie was no penny-less student. The apartment was a mess. Not dirty, just a mess. The state of the refrigerator and cupboards gave an indication of why he so often ate at the restaurant. We celebrated the new year cleaning out the last remnants of anything edible: A bottle of probably very expensive champagne and a bag of potato chips. It was my best New Year since the first time I was old enough to stay up.

Before withdrawing (stumbling) into his bedroom Louie offered me the use of the guest bedroom. I was tired and the bed looked much more comfortable than the one in the shack so I stayed. In hindsight I’m aghast that I could do something so reckless but at the time it appeared to be a good idea.

As you can imagine there was no breakfast in bed. Or for that matter any breakfast at all since we had cleaned out that bag of potato chips. I spent an hour clearing out the worst mess. And then I quietly slipped out. Louie was still asleep and, yes, I still respected him.

The next day he turned up at the restaurant. No surprise since he came quite often (and now I knew why).

“Hello Mary, I’d like to invite me to dinner.”
“What?”
“To be more specific I’d like to invite me to a dinner that you prepare. I supply the necessary venue, a.k.a. my flat, funding for necessary provisions and the brute force to carry it all. Your part is to provide the expertise. Both when it comes to cooking and what and where to buy things.”

I was free that night. The fridge and cupboards became well stocked. The brute force was necessary. I’m not a great cook but what I managed to do was actually quite tasty. We had nice evening. Nothing spectacular. Just … cozy. Louie was the perfect gentleman and I didn’t stay the night. Not staying the night became the pattern. I still spent much time at Louie’s apartment. Since I only waitressed at lunches I started to hang out at Louie’s place more and more. It was nicer than the shack and it was free. Well, I cooked and did some other things to make the place more livable. I even had time to look at some Business administration textbooks I once had got in anticipation of going to college. Something we know never happened. That didn’t mean I had lost interest. It turned out that Louie studied business administration. One time he was stuck I was able to help him. That also started a pattern. Louie gave me a key to the apartment so I could study after lunch, with full access to his books, computer etc, so I could help him in the evenings. Louie wasn’t stupid but I was smarter, at least according to Louie. To make things more complicated we did it in French. Louie was taking French as a minor and discovered that I had an A in high school French so he bribed me to speak French with him so he could practice. I don’t know how much he got out of it but I learnt a lot. That wasn’t all. We did other stuff together as well. I met his friends and became part of that crowd. By April I suddenly realized that I was Louie’s girlfriend. I could live with that.

April was also the time when new opportunities opened up. I was a decent singer and I got a tip that a nightclub needed a new drag act. I know, I know. But for me it was a step up. Better money and all that. The only problem was that since I had this thing about now providing sexual services I had to be damned good to get the job. Louie supported me. A boyfriend that supports his girlfriend to appear in a nightclub in scanty clothes? Well, he did. He was my captive audience and feed-back source. He even got me pair. A pair of high-end fake breasts. I refused. Since I wasn’t starving I had my pride. I did my share in the apartment and so on but those very expensive breast were too much. I couldn’t accept that. Louie claimed they were his and that he’d only lend them to me. I laughed at him for that ridiculous statement. At that point Louie disappeared into his bedroom and half an hour later came out as a very busty Valkyrie. Brünhilde he explained afterwards. He proceeded to sing an aria. He wasn’t a soprano but he did it very well.

“You see, it’s not over until the fat lady sings.”
“Talking about fat, isn’t it time you did something about that belly of yours?”
“Absolutely, the thing is that I’m so unreliable. I get a membership at a gym and go there the first month and that’s it. I need someone to make me do it. Someone to go there and make sure I do some work. Can I hire you?”

That’s how I ended up with two new jobs in the same week. The use of Louie’s breasts combined with my gym membership were my wages for making sure Louie led a more healthy lifestyle. We went to the gym together and I made sure he got started before heading of to my aerobics class and other exercises. When I was done I picked him up. The gym Louie chose was LGBT+ friendly. Remember this was in a progressive university town and most of the other members were students. I was recognized as a female member despite my male member. As long as I behaved of course.

And the drag-queen job? Yes, I got that one as well. The gym was a good thing for that too. My persona was a sexy young person. I could pitch my voice high enough to do my own singing as well. AND I got the job without putting out. Just shows how good I was. Too bad the payment wasn’t as good but at least I had got my foot inside the show business door. Things were looking good. I was on a roll. And things got even better when one of the four showgirls got pregnant (it was only a small nightclub) and I was offered the job. More money. But I had to work harder at the gym to get, and maintain, the right figure even with Louie’s breasts. I even started to think about transitioning the right way.

Hubris! The restaurant closed and I was homeless again and without my daily bread. Louie offered me to share his apartment. I refused. I still wasn’t starving so I had my pride. I did accept when Louie framed it as sharing cost and work. He took the cost I took the work. And he said it with that smile that always turned me gooey. Unfair negotiation tactics!

At that point we still hadn’t seen each other naked and I made sure it remained that way even when I moved in with him.

Louie quite obviously came from a wealthy family but he never spoke about them. I gathered that the relationship was strained, very strained, but without a complete break. That worried me. If they found out about me that could cause irreparable harm.

“Louie, I don’t want you to tell your parents about me. Don’t tell them that I’m a drag queen. Please, please!”
“You are no queen. Trust me, I know. You are the sweetest and most stiff-necked girl I’ve ever met.” Space for a kiss, or two.

This was repeated every now and then. Then Louie started to talk about marriage. I refused. I reminded him that I was a drag-queen transgendered girl. Hmm, isn’t that a contradiction? Anyway, the son of a wealthy family just couldn’t marry a drag-queen. Louie had a standard answer to that:

“You are no queen. Trust me, I know. You are the sweetest and most stiff-necked girl I’ve ever met.” Followed by a kiss or two.

For the next year things were just great. Had I had the money to enroll at university I would be 2/3 on the way to a bachelor's degree. At least judging from Louie’s results. I was slowly building up my reputation as a performer. Studying, performing, gym and cozy evenings with Louie … Yes life was good. Hubris!

One night after the show I was sitting in my loge at the club. Yes, I had my own loge, well, cupboard. Then the door opened and Louie and a young man my age entered. I felt deflated. I didn’t want Louie to see me perform and here he was. And with a friend, that I thankfully didn’t know.

“Hello Mary, great show. You really had them lusting after you tonight. Meet by brother Vladimir, or Vlad the impaler as he is normally known.”
“Don’t listen to him. I promise you, I have never killed anybody, not by impaling.”
“No, it’s only girls’ virginity that is at stake when my little brother goes marauding.”
The boy’s blush was quite becoming. And then I realized that the first look any of his family had got of me was as my stage persona, and on a “good” night at that. Not good, not good at all.

We went back to the apartment. After some haggling forth and back Vlad wound up sleeping on the couch. He stayed for a week. He met all the people we knew. He walked around town and struck up conversations with the most amazing variety of people from professors at the university to customers at the club (not mutually exclusive). After the first embarrassment I came to like Vlad. He really was a people person. He was such a cute boy with the same characteristics as Louie; a strange mix of the early rascal Huey and the serious Junior Woodchuck ten-star general. I even started to call him Huey. He liked it. I relaxed. Then the last day Huey cornered me.

“If you suspected that my parents had sent me here to check you out you were perfectly right. Some garbled information had reached them I was sent to check things out. You impressed me. Don’t interrupt me. My parents have nothing to worry about when it comes to your morals. Yours are better than most people they have to deal with. But most importantly you are good for Louis. He’s much fitter than he used to be. He concentrates on his studies. He’s much happier. Or to be more correct, he’s happy.”
“But I haven’t done anything. Louie is just that person.”
“He is, with you. Have you any idea how many courses he failed the first semester? I can only guess why you were on that bridge in the middle of the night on New Year’s Eve. But have you ever thought about why my brother was there?”
“He was walking back home from a party he didn’t like on the other side of the river.”
“I seriously doubt he expressed it exactly like that. My brother very seldom lies. And he has NEVER been on the other side of the river, so why was he ON the bridge that night? No, I can’t express how grateful I’m to you. I know that our parents will be as well.”
“But they can’t accept that I’m a drag queen. At least not as a wife.”
You are no queen. Trust me, I know. You are the sweetest and most stiff-necked girl I’ve ever met.”
The two brothers were very alike. Not identical though. Vlad didn’t kiss me.
“I know that this is strange and in many ways an imposition but could you fill in this questionnaire honestly. It’s very important.”

Huey/Vlad was right. The questionnaire was bloody intrusive but I trusted him and filled it in to the last detail. Looking at the result I didn’t feel that proud but I had promised to be honest.

Then nothing happened for a couple of months. Well, Vlad made one short visit but that was all. Then everything happened at the same time. One day Louie came to the club as happy as could be. He waived with an official looking paper and proposed to me. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t got another offer only half an hour before. I had been asked to audition for one of the big casino shows in Las Vegas. Both as a showgirl and as a drag act. Invited to audition! That meant that they thought I was a serious possibility!

As it was, I turned Louie down. I still couldn’t think that Louie’s parent would approve of a “queen”.

“That’s not true. I have the approval. On paper. With all the necessary stamps and signatures.” At time Louie tended to exaggerate, “And you are no queen. Trust me, I know. You are just the sweetest and most stiff-necked girl I’ve ever met.”

Grudingly Louie accepted my refusal. He did insist to accompany me to Las Vegas as immoral support. He claimed that I was way too moral so he’d provide me with some balance. I was happy that he’d support me.

We got to Las Vegas. I checked in to the very modest room the casino provided for the audition. Louie into a more comfortable, and expensive, room in the same hotel. I cleared the first cut for showgirl. The next phase was more exacting. Could I project being a girl, performing at the highest level, in the skimpy costume with all those feathers (I believe that you all know what I’m talking about. It was already ten at night when we finished after a grueling day. I think I did well. That was when Louie burst in and grabbed me and kissed me passionately.

“Marry me right now or never. I mean it. Your choice.”

Louie was clearly very upset and I had no doubt he meant what he said. At that moment I realized that I DID love him enough to stand up to his parents no matter what. Yes, I loved Louie, and that was all that mattered. We could survive somehow even if his parents disowned him like mine had done me.

Louie dragged me away me still wearing the showgirl costume. The audition leader tried to stop him since I was still wearing the expensive showgirl costume. Louie just took out a bundle 100 dollar notes and peeled off a number of them and pushed them into the lady’s hand. Then we set off to the nearest 24/7 wedding chapel. Not the way I had wanted to marry but if that’s what it took …

“Hello, we need to be married right now.”
“Sorry, there is a two-hour wait for the next available spot.”
“We have to be married today!” And the slightly smaller bundle of 100-dollar bills made another appearance and ten minutes later Elvis Presley declared the Vegas showgirl and the serious young man husband and husband (I was still officially a male).

When filling in the wedding certificate Louie asked
“You only state the date and not the hour, do you?”
“We usually time stamp it as well as standard procedure even if it’s not required.”
“You forgot that detail this time.” Another bill changed hands.
Me: “Are you sure that spending so much money is a good thing? I’m sure that your parents will accept a queen as your wife. You, or we by now, will be cut off.”
“My dear, you are a queen, my queen, and that’s all that matters. And no, I will not be disowned by my parents. I can promise you that.”

After the wedding chapel things got more relaxed. We took a cab to one of the most expensive hotels and a honeymoon sweet was available. That night we saw each other completely naked for the first time. We approved. We also did what newly married couples are supposed to do.

However, we weren’t allowed to sleep in the next morning. At 7 am there was banging on the door. Louie got up and quickly pulled on his pants.

“Mary, get dressed. I’ll take care of this.”
What neither of us had thought about was that the only clothes I had was my showgirl outfit. Feathers and all. I still got dressed and went out into the main room just as Louie finally opened the banged on door. Vlad and two gentlemen that twice had met with Louie before (and when I had been asked to leave the apartment) entered.

Vlad: “Louis, there has been a terrible accident at home. Father and Mother were killed. So were our brother Albert and little Prince Siegfried. That means that as of 7 am CET this morning you are the king of Ruritania. I’m afraid that this means that you can’t marry Mary. Parliament approved your marriage with her when you were the spare. They won’t do the same thing for the king.”

Vlad looked at me with a guilty and sad look. He really liked me.

“Ah, gentlemen. You are not updated. Please, meet Queen Mary, my wife as of YESTERDAY.”
The situation was ridiculous. All those very serious men looking at me in my showgirl costume that left … little to imagination and with the pretty pink feathers. And then they all bowed to me and chorused:
“Congratulations, your majesty.”
Vlad did it with a knowing smile. The others gravely serious. Except my husband of course who preened. Those guys were bananas.

“Vlad, I intend for you to take an active part in my reign. I’m going to delegate an important task to you – the production of heirs. That means that you have to marry of course but we all have to make sacrifices, don’t we?

Once more the smiling Vlad and the deadly serious gentlemen agreed and bowed.
Those guys really were bananas. Completely bananas.

Of course that was only appropriate since apparently I had married King Louie.