Diva Dismayed: Chapter 3 – Out of the frying pan
It took some time and the application of several tissues before I regained any kind of composure. Rachel stood back to look me up and down and her conclusion was no doubt warranted “You’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake.”

Another hug and then she led the way to where her blue sedan was parked. Even though quite an old model, Rachel’s vehicle was a most welcome sight, representing a haven of security to my eyes. Less so was the scene which accompanied it. To our dismay, her car was being inspected by a figure of authority in the shape of a middle-aged man in peaked cap and uniform. His face bore a severe expression and he had traffic cop written all over him.
As we came closer it was obvious that he was eying up both the car and the yellow No Parking sign behind which it stood. My friend’s carelessness in selecting such an inauspicious space looked likely to cause further vexation; and this on a day where my jangled nerves had found little respite so far. Happily she seemed undaunted, though if the inevitable ticket was not to be issued within the next few moments some quick thinking would be called for.

She took the bull by the horns. “Oh, officer! Thank heaven you are here! It’s my friend! You can see it’s her wedding day and the car which should have taken her there has broken down.”

Rachel’s spirited attempt to avoid a penalty ought to have been equal to the occasion. Accompanied by her sweetest smile, this line of attack was calculated to have melted the hardest of hearts, but the stony-faced cop was apparently impervious to it. He made it clear that he had seen through the ‘helpless dame’ routine, even though it was enacted by such an attractive female.

His grim expression softened not one iota, so she ploughed desperately on “She’s had to travel by bus to get this far and that was as a last resort, as you can guess. We’d arranged I would meet her and drive her the rest of the way, but I just don’t know the route from here. The day is turning into a complete disaster! She might even miss the ceremony!” she concluded sorrowfully.

My friend sought to emphasise her words by unbuttoning and removing my jacket as she spoke so that the officer could remain in no uncertainty about the nature of my gown. My bride’s dress was revealed in all its glory and my tear-stained face confirmed the rest of her tale, hopefully adding credence to pathos. Meanwhile I gazed at my audience with what I hoped was a forlorn expression, although internally I was marvelling at how inventive Rachel had shown she could be, unrehearsed and on the spur of the moment. Repressing an incongruous desire to laugh, I tried to enlist the cop’s sympathy by looking as distressed as I could manage to.

The ploy evidently worked for now he was giving me his full attention. He had shown himself proof against the heart-rending appeal from my rescuer despite her movie-star good looks. No doubt it was my woebegone appearance that seemed to be softening the patrolman’s attitude.

Rachel’s vigorous removal of my jacket might also have had something to do with it. Her action had pulled the sleeves of my dress from my shoulders with the result that more of my décolletage was revealed than ever I intended. The sight no doubt increased the drama of the moment and appeared to engage the man’s interest, or perhaps it was merely that he had a daughter of his own and felt sympathy for me.

In any event he put his notebook away resignedly. “Okay, ladies. Just where are you headed?”

For the next few minutes, he was engaged in giving directions to Rachel but while he did so his eyes flickered continually between my tearful face and my over-exposed bosom. Wanting to keep up the attempt to appear totally helpless I made no effort to cover up and was hopeful the display might continue to have the desired result.

Perhaps too much so! At the start of his explanation he casually had rested a ‘reassuring’ hand upon my waist. That was unwanted and uncalled for, but I didn’t pull away. Next I was startled to find that his hand strayed downwards to rest on my rear. Mindful of the delicate nature of our situation, I judged it expedient not to recoil and was able to check my instinctive reaction. Thankfully, the several layers of tulle beneath my gown spared me much of the sensation of my butt being cupped!
Ewww!

He left us with a parting tap on my petticoated ass, accompanied by the admonition, “And just be more careful where you park your car another time.” Only when we were safely on our way could we relax and giggle about the narrow escape we’d just had.

“Thank goodness that’s over. Has he really gone?” Rachel exclaimed. “I don’t need another ticket with my finances in the state they are just now.”

“The cops are tough cookies in this neighbourhood!” she continued. “I expected only to have to bat my eyelashes at him to win him over, but apparently that just doesn’t work around here.”
Then as an afterthought, she teased “Oh, and remind me not to introduce you to any of my potential boyfriends when you’re showing such an eye-catching neckline. I’m not used to being upstaged in that department!”
I knew exactly to what Rachel was alluding. I’d long since held the opinion that my friend's willowy figure was one of the most sensational on the planet. She was the possessor of an enviable set of curves and in particular a spectacular bust. At least a size larger than my own, the upward thrust of her breasts seemed to defy gravity. Today, her shapeliness was hardly concealed by the thin cotton dress she was wearing and which the sun’s rays had little trouble penetrating. To my way of thinking the cop’s apparent resistance to her charms was inexplicable.

“Now, tell me all about this wedding of yours. Love the dress, by the way! I know only a little about how you got engaged. When did you decide you wouldn’t go through with it? And how did you get away?”

My explanation was halting. I didn’t fully understand it all, myself.
“Well, as regards deciding, it was quite gradual. We’d always got along really well so that wasn’t the problem. There was the age difference of course, but that wasn’t it, either.”

I continued “What really opened my eyes was coming across a drawer one day, full of er…‘toys’. I was stunned, I can tell you, at what it revealed about my intended’s er… preferences. It showed me a side of nature which I just wasn't prepared for. I’m definitely not into that kind of bondage thing! Eventually, when I got up the courage to casually mention what I’d found, all I got was a knowing grin and hints about the ‘fun’ we would be able to have. What was worse, I got the distinct impression that the fun wasn’t intended to be reserved just for the two of us, but would include some of those friends I didn’t like, as well.”

I went on to add “Of course it would have seemed prudish to make a big deal about it, so I didn’t protest. Perhaps I should have done.”
Going over these details with my friend helped me rationalise the past few weeks. I was beginning to make some kind of sense of my feelings.

“Anyway, as time went by the feeling grew stronger and stronger that what was about to happen was all wrong, for me at any rate. All I could focus on was that we were very unequally matched and I liked the way our relationship appeared to be heading less and less. Of course, I knew there was no way that Mom would ever let me back out. So… in the end I just ran. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to do that if I hadn’t had help; from Maria of all people. I didn’t expect her to be on my side.”

“It all seems quite unreal now I can think about it. When I got off the bus and saw you waiting for me it was like waking from a bad dream!”

Rachel’s eyes were opened wide at these revelations but there was one further circumstance which I didn’t need to mention and which would have made my nuptials remarkable had they gone ahead. It would have been no surprise to her that the person I was to marry was in fact a woman, Madeleine, who had a grown-up daughter of her own. Guests at the wedding who were not in the know would certainly have been shocked that my intended spouse was female, even though she would have been attired in pinstriped coat and pants. Same sex marriage was a thing unheard of back in those times, as well as the small matter of not being sanctioned by law.

Others, however, would have been wise to the fact that I, though the prospective ‘bride’, was actually male, so there was no question but that legality would be satisfied. Nonetheless, tongues would doubtless have been wagging. My friend was already fully aware of all that related to my gender. I was grateful that she had always accepted me for exactly what I was; a boy, but a cross-dressed one.

The next half hour flew by as I satisfied Rachel’s curiosity on the smallest details of the wedding arrangements, but I had still to deal with the matter of how I’d got engaged in the first place when her car drew up outside the nurses’ residence where she was living. That explanation would be awkward and the timeliness of the interruption of our heart to heart was very welcome.

“Well here we are. Now the first thing you ought to know is that the on-site accommodation here is subject to all kinds of regulations” she explained.

I was dismayed but unsurprised when she went on to tell me of the stipulation that there could be no overnight guests in the rooms. This was only to be expected in the late 1950s, but her take on that rule was refreshingly unconventional.

“So… the first thing we need to do is to get you inside and up to my apartment without attracting anyone’s notice” she declared smilingly. “We’d better start by losing some of those petticoats.”

As that operation would be impossible in the confines of her car, she got out and after a cursory glance around, motioned me to follow. She had been careful to park in a space out of the direct view of any of the building’s windows. With her assistance I lifted up the skirt of my gown until the hem was around my waist.

“Those stockings, too!” she directed. “We need to try and make you look as ‘everyday’ as possible. Shame we can’t do anything about those shoes.” She shook her pretty head despairingly at the bridal nature of my footwear, while starting to unclip my garter tabs in order to peel off my white hose.

It was only when she had removed the first that I realised that despite all her circumspection, our manoeuvres had not been entirely unobserved. I lifted my eyes only to meet those of a good-looking young man. Wearing round glasses, he was grinning broadly and was perched rather precariously on the hood of a red pickup which was parked on the opposite side of the lot. Once the realisation sank in of the spectacle I was making, and which he must be observing, I coloured up until my face nearly matched the hue of his truck. In the meantime Rachel’s attention was fully occupied in attending to me and she remained blissfully unaware that we were not alone.

“Hold still while I get the other one off” she chided and motioned me to raise the skirt of my dress even higher. She was unaware that her efforts were giving a grandstand view of my lacy white panties to our unintended audience. Revealing their flimsy bridal nature would have been the last of my wishes, but the young man now signalled his appreciation of the sight with a little cry of approval. “Bravo!”

At this interruption, Rachel finally lifted her head and became aware that we had company. Her vexation that her careful precautions had proved inadequate was immediately obvious.

“What do you think you are staring at?!” she shouted across to our observer. She stood up and glared at him angrily, with legs planted wide and hands on hips.

“That’s no way to behave. If you were any kind of gentleman, you wouldn’t take advantage and look on while a girl is in difficulties!”

Seemingly abashed by this attack, the young man held up his hands in mock surrender and mouthed an apology.

My friend stalked over to the truck. I winced in anticipation but when she spoke again she seemed to have regained control of her feelings. In a moderated tone, “Well Harvey, if you really are sorry then you won’t mention seeing us to anyone… and then I might just forgive you.”

“Sure, Rachel honey. Whatever you say.” The youth, who was evidently on first name terms with my friend, winked at her conspiratorially. He got back into the cab of his vehicle and started the engine. “I was never here. In a while!” and with an airy wave and a further meaning grin in my direction, he drove away.

Throughout this enervating exchange, I could only remain staring, rooted to the spot.

“Well, don’t just stand there!”

The urgency of my companion’s command electrified me into action and I hurried to obey. Now assured that we ought to be completely alone, I hitched the silken skirts of my dress even higher around my middle. My accomplice used my discarded hose as a makeshift tie to keep them in place. Then she pulled my petticoats down my legs and helped me step out of their voluminous layers before bundling them into the back of the car. She completed the transformation by buttoning my jacket tightly over all. The result might have borne some resemblance to a knee-length dress underneath the said jacket.
“There. That’s not too bad. At a distant glance your skirt might even be part of a nurse’s uniform. Well then! Come on!”

Our luck held as Rachel guided me swiftly through the entrance lobby of the building. Straightaway it became clear that to use the elevator would be risky. A couple of girls in white tunics were standing by its door, waiting its arrival. Fortunately, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to pay any attention to me. With no little alarm I followed my friend past them and across to the stairwell. We ran up several flights until we reached her floor which fortunately was deserted. Seconds later the door of her apartment closed behind us and we could breathe a sigh of relief.
Could anything else happen to me in a single day?