The Garden Party
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Maybe you should go down to the strip and find yourself somebody to do the job,” I suggested. “You know, just like Richard Gere did. Find yourself a Julia Roberts.”

“If I thought that would work, I might,” he said, the man who had just introduced himself as Jerome. “Now do you want the money or not? Will you do it or not?”

“At the very least you should be able to find a woman to be your woman,” I said with a smile. I did want the money. I had already decided that I was going to do it, but I just wanted him to know that I would not be a natural, because I am not a natural – a natural woman that is.

“The truth is that I am running out of time,” Jerome said. “Even if I could find my Julia Roberts, and that is not what I am looking for, I would have no time to get her the makeover. You are ready. You look great. All we need is the outfit, and I have that for you next door with only the size to check. But you’re my girl, even if you are not. I have visited all three beauty salons on this block, and here you are. You’ll be perfect. It is just a few hours. It will all be over by sundown.”

And that meant that I could still make it to the vice versa party. That was the reason that I was there, at the salon. I was going all out to be the perfect woman for the evening, partnering my girlfriend Alicia who would be going as Albert. That is why I was dressed like a woman and doing my best to sound and behave like one.

It was all Alicia’s idea. I feigned shock when she told me, rather than asking me. Any man would be shocked at losing their masculinity even for a night. But then I laughed a little, suggesting that it might be fun. But what Alicia did not know, and certainly not this man Jerome, was that this evening was going to meet a deep yearning in me. I had played around with my mother’s clothes when I was young, but I was mad at myself for doing it. The real truth was that I was secretly obsessed with women’s clothing and with all things feminine. I knew that this was a perversion and I suppressed it all the way through high school. I was successful in distancing myself from temptation, even through college. I hung with the guys, and we did only male things. People would probably have described me as being fairly macho, without realizing that it was all for show.

Alicia seemed to be exactly what I wanted – the woman who would make a man out of me. But she seemed to have the opposite effect. When she moved in with me the feelings started to come back. She had a closet full of women’s clothes and a dressing table overflowing with feminine scents and cosmetics. When she was there and brushing her hair at night or putting on her makeup in the morning, I was wracked with envy. When she was away or out, I would play with her stuff, always fearful of getting caught.

It was Alicia who suggested that I adopt a costume that was more than just a drag get-up. She said that I could pull off the total look, and I was secretly happy that I could have this chance. She said that I should shave my legs and chest and have my hair done, in fact she insisted on it. She was the one who persuaded me to wear my hair longer in the first place, and now it was just long enough to wear up.

“Your pals will look awful as women, but you could look really good,” she said. “You have the right slim body and small hands and feet, and with a wiglet on top as a bun your hair can be styled to look like the real deal.”

I made a show of reluctance, but inside I was seething with desire.

She had dropped me off at the salon after our brunch together, and she was due to pick me up any moment. But I would not be there. I had an offer that I could not refuse. I would still make the party, but not until I had picked up some cash, and enjoyed even more time presenting as a woman.

“Sure,” I said. “For $3,000 you have yourself a date.” With my hand cocked on my hip I smiled cheekily at Jerome. And he smiled back.

“Excellent,” he said. Now you will need to borrow a robe or something to go next door to get the dress and the shoes, and then we need to go. This garden party is just about to start. I will fill you in on the details in the limo.”

“The limo?” I am no great judge of fine clothes, but he did seem to be well dressed. He was paying me cash, so he had a dollar or two. And a limo to transport us. It was clear this guy was well heeled.

“I am sorry, I did not even ask your name,” he said.

“Well, you have paid the money so you can choose,” I said. “But I was going to use Iris.”

“Iris is perfect,” he said. “The goddess of the rainbow.”

“Just so you know, I am not gay,” I said. “I have a girlfriend. I need to be back by this evening to go to a party – we are going vice versa.”

“Of course,” he said. Not that it really mattered what he believed. I was holding the dollars, feeling a few thousand in my manicured hand, and a million in my heart.

I put on the robe the salon assistant offered me, which was barely suitable to walk in bare feet down the block to the boutique. All I was wearing underneath it was a figure forming corset and underpants to tuck away my maleness.

He had an outfit picked out. It looked very expensive. I could not wait to put it on and look at myself in the mirror. My evening outfit would be far too loud and would probably reveal that my cleavage was fake. This dress did not. The pushed-up flesh looked like the real things. It showed off my legs which were my best feature. It was described to me as a sundress. It came with a small bag on a narrow strap to wear over my shoulder.

“Just exactly what do you want me to do at this function of yours?” I asked.

“I want you to look rich and act rich,” he said. “Your husky voice is perfect, and your height is an advantage too. And your own hair? That is great.”

“Despite the best efforts of the salon, people will still guess that I am a man. Will that upset you?”

“No, no,” he said. “Just don’t tell anybody please, but if they find out, well, it doesn’t worry me. I want you to act superior to everybody at this thing. From your height and these heels, it will be easy for you to look down on people. This is going to be great.”

The heels were high but not uncomfortable. I would need practice walking in them.

“I have never been to a garden party before,” I said. I had a sudden fear that I would ruin everything. Some people spend their whole lives trying to appear as women and they still fail. I was a newcomer to this. How could I succeed? I just told myself that I should draw on my inner woman. I suppose that I always knew that such a thing existed – why else would there be these urges. I told myself to be confident.

“I find the whole garden party idea old-fashioned, or elitist, or both,” he said. “But please don’t tell anybody that this is your first.”

I knew what he wanted. I said as imperiously as I could - “Don’t be stupid, I am invited to hundreds, but I try to only attend 3 per season. Only try-hards would attend more.”

“Perfect,” he said, holding the door open for me to reveal the limo parked out front, the chauffeur holding the door for me.

“Thank you and thank you” I said. How nice to be treated like a woman should be treated. I moved into the car as I knew a lady should. I had watched “Pretty Woman” often enough to know something about what was right.

“You have a classy feel about you,” said Jerome. “I think this is going to turn out well.” The car was moving quickly but smoothly.

“I am not a prostitute for a start,” I said. “I am an educated person, and my family were never poor. In truth I think that I have been a bit spoiled, which probably accounts for the fact that I am a little aimless these days – between jobs, and by quite a gap – but with enough money that I am not concerned.”

“But still in need of this,” he said, holding up a small wad of banknotes for me to put into my bag.

“I still know the value of money that I have earned myself,” I told him, snapping the bag over it.

“Can I say again just how beautiful you look,” he said. “So much like a woman that I have to pinch myself.”

“Whatever turns you on,” I said as he grinned. “Tell me more about where we are headed and why I am here.”

“This is a party for a senior partner in the firm I work for,” said Jerome. “It is in the garden of his house which is only a short distance out of the city. He is very proud of the garden and likes to show it off, but I also think that he prefers not to attend functions that go into the night. He prefers lawn sports to dancing – a competitive edge perhaps.”

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

“Well, it’s more a commemoration. It would be the 50th birthday of his late wife. It would be sad except he is not that kind of person. He has a very positive philosophy about life. He is a special person. Perhaps you can guess, I am an admirer of his. He is not just a senior parter - he is a mentor to me. I owe him a lot.

“I would like to meet him. What is his name.”

“His name is Charles Walkington,” said Jerome. “I will introduce you the first chance I get. By the way, how should I introduce you. I mean your feminine name – I don’t need to know your other name, do I?

“Why don’t you call me Julia? Julia Roberts. It’s a common enough name. We are not all famous.”

Jerome spoke some more about Charles and about the work that they did and I did my best to retain some keys facts. It is always better to know something about people you are to meet before you meet them. We must have only been on the highway for less than an hour when we took an exit and drove through wooded back roads to a large electronic gate that opened to the chauffeur’s command.

The grounds of the house were large and so was the house itself, but it was the side gate to the garden that reveals the true treasure of living in this place. There were lawns and terraces interspersed with shrubberies and flower beds. There was a small lake with a bridge and a jetty. There was a pool and tennis court both fenced off. And there were people – possibly as many as fifty – milling around drinking champagne considering what to take from platters held out by uniformed servers.

Jerome took two glasses from a tray and gave one to me.

“I will stay with you,” he said. “You don’t know anybody here. Until I make introductions I will stay at your side.”

“I am not a wallflower,” I told him. “I was brought up in a different tradition, as you will be aware.”

“Well, please don’t try to chat up the women,” he joked.

“Dressed like this I promise I will make the men my target,” I said. The strange thing was that I could see men staring at me, and I think that I could recognize the thoughts going through their heads. It was not that I was an unknown, just that I was a woman they were yet to know. The feeling it brought me was very odd – does prey get excited by the gaze of a wolf?

“Ah, here he is coming over,” said Jerome, the man of the hour, or the day, or the place.” An older man was coming towards us. His face was wide and honest looking, somehow not quite what I expected from the work that Jerome said they did.

“I’m Charles Walkington,” he said, taking my hand warmly and gently. I was careful not to respond as a man might. “And you are?”

“Julia … Julia Roberts. Not the actress.” I said,

“Even prettier, I think,” he said. “Can I say that? Am I showing my age and the insensitivity of my generation?”

“Women who say they don’t like a compliment are lying to themselves,” I said, as if it was something I would say, which it wasn’t.

“Charles, would you look after Julia for a bit while I go and say hello to Corrigan and his wife,” said Jerome, as if keen to leave me with his senior.

“Certainly,” said Charles with what seemed like fatherly tenderness. “She is safe with me, I promise.” And as he went he turned to me and asked – “Have you known Jerome long?”

“No,” I said. I didn’t need to say that it had only been a couple of hours.

“I know why Jerome invited you here,” he said. It was a puzzling statement, and he could see my reaction. “You are a transsexual, I know. You are very successful in your transition so please don’t be offended by my noticing. You see, my late wife was the same. She made me very happy. I called her irreplaceable. It was clearly a challenge that Jerome had to take up. He is a very resourceful young man. He always tries hard to help.

“I see,” I said. “So please tell me, what are the characteristic of a transsexual wife that Jerome might have been looking for in me? I am just curious. I don’t want to pry into your personal life.”

“No, I’m glad you asked. I don’t mind talking about her … in fact, I take pleasure from memories of her. People thought it strange that I should choose her as my second wife, but I found her perfect for many reasons. The positives outweighed the fact that some disapproved, although disapproval by some was in fact a positive. Real friends accept your choices. Those who question your judgement in matters of love are not really friends.”

“I suppose so,” I said, sipping some more champagne.

“I had a family, and one major advantage in marrying your type of woman is that the complications of fathering a second family will never arise. She was there as a trophy wife some might say – an achiever in her own right prior to transition – totally compatible in a way that no born woman can truly be for men like me. Then there was the way that she presented herself – always with an eye for perfection but with shallow vanity. A transwoman always wants to appear as the best version of her new sex because she chose it, whereas women who are just born that way sometimes care less. And then of course there is sex. There was a time when it was important to me as it is to most men even at my age. It appears that reassignment does not change libido. Finally, she had class, in a way that only a person who overcomes adversity can have. I probably don’t need to tell you that transition can be hard, and that requires a stellar resolve. She had that. She knew how to deal with detractors, as I think you do as well. Jerome saw a lot of her in you, perhaps?

“We haven’t known one another for that long,” I said. It struck me that when we met my only qualification was that I was not born a woman. “So, Jerome was trying to find somebody to replace your wife? He was acting as matchmaker?”

“Perhaps at the start, but I can see him standing over there – he is looking at you, not me. I don’t think he has taken his eyes off you all afternoon. Why don’t you give him a little wave?”

I did. Jerome was standing near the bar, looking at us a little sadly. The wave cheered him a little and he waved back vaguely.

“As I say, we barely know one another, so I would say that there is no prospect of a long-term relationship between us,” I said.

“I am not so sure,” said Charles. “I know that boy. He is looking for the perfect woman, but she is almost impossible to find in my opinion. I think that some of us need to spread the net a little wider to find a true-life partner. It worked for me. What about you. Are you looking for somebody?”

“I suppose that I am in a relationship of a kind at the moment, but is has been … unfulfilling, and today I think that I have realized that it is pretty much over, or it will be tomorrow.”

“Has Jerome turned your head?” he asked.

“Perhaps, and you have too … a little.”

“Jerome is coming over so I will mingle with other guests,” said Charles. “It was so nice to meet you Julia. I hope we will meet again soon. I may insist on it.” Strangely he took my hand and lifted it to his lips. I think that I felt myself blush – a rush of hot blood to the face.

“Charles seems very taken with you,” said Jerome.

“He is a charming man, but I think it’s time for me to go,” I said. “I think I have done what you brought me here for. Charles has told me about his late wife.”

“Can I persuade you to stay,” said Jerome, gently taking my kissed hand that was still in front of me. His words should have been said with a playful smile expecting a polite refusal, but Jerome seemed suddenly very intense. “You don’t really belong at a vice versa party, do you?”

“What do you mean?” I said. “Look at how I’m dressed.”

“You’re dressed as a woman, because you are one. You’re not really a man, are you?” he said, looking at me intently.

“Well, anatomically I am.” It seemed as if the words carried with them, a pall of sadness and regret.

“I guess all mistakes are correctable,” he said. “Even nature’s ones.” His words seemed to hang in the air, held aloft by the way he looked into my eyes, throwing my whole world into turmoil. It was clear to me that this man had looked into my soul and found a woman there. I was not pretending to be a woman, I was one. He knew it, and slowly I was beginning to understand that I knew it to.

I blinked and started to readjust. Why was I here? Alicia had me dressed for a party. She was expecting me. I had been side-tracked for a relatively small amount of cash. But I had a girlfriend, and we were …

But it was too late. Jerome had his arms around me, and he was kissing me … and I was kissing him back, and all of the colors of the rainbow were flashing through my head.

Our lips parted gently, and we just looked at one another, oblivious to our surroundings.

“So, just like your mentor, you are attracted to transwomen?” I asked.

“No. I am just attracted to you.”

“Will you take me to the vice versa party anyway?” I asked him. “I won’t be staying. It is just that Alicia needs to know. And some of our friends too. I have a feeling that I won’t ever be going back to what was my home. I hope that your place is nice, although I couldn’t expect something as grand as this.”

“I think that you might be pleasantly surprised, although it is urban with only a rooftop garden.”

“No garden party at your place then?” I teased.

“We can have one, but it will be a party just for two,” he said.

The End
3505

Author’s Note: Some time ago I wrote the story “Pretty” which was inspired by the movie “Pretty Woman”, as (I suppose) is this tale. That earlier story was a voluntary transwoman, which is not so common for me. I was keen to explore another version, and this one was written from scratch.
This story is included in my latest anthology posted on Amazon and other sites by Doppler Press - please support them by visiting the Amazon links or others posted.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCNGY2QB
https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/71AeqeUwVFL._SY466_.jpg