Chapter Thirteen: Reconsiderations

The following evening Amy and Millie were to have their usual Wednesday night “girls out” dinner, which had become a weekly habit when Amy was not traveling. Amy was eager to show off her engagement ring to her friend, but was worried about the pain that Millie – having been rejected by Eric – might feel when she heard the news. Of course, Amy knew that Millie who was basically a kind and generous friend would express congratulations and joy for her friend. But what kind of wound would it open for Millie?

The two had begun their light supper at a wine and cheese shop named Chateaux Nicolas, a surprisingly chic place for the area. It was begun as strictly a coffee shop ten years earlier by a couple – both who were law enforcement officers in area – who slowly expanded it so that it sold wines that had been carefully chosen.

“Good evening, ladies,” the owner, Nicholas, a tall, muscular man said as he greeted them.

“Hey, Nick, comment allez vous?”

“Tres bien, et vous mademoiselle?” he replied.

Amy was intrigued that a law enforcement officer – he was a detective for the sheriff’s department – was such an expert on wine and could speak French.

“Tres bien,” she replied.

“Et vous, mademoiselle,” Nick said, addressing Millie, as she was taking her seat.

“Comme ci, comme ca,” Millie, her tone morose.

“Well maybe a glass of wine might help,” he said.

The two friends ordered their wine and both asked for a turkey and cranberry wrap for their meal.

“What’s wrong with your hand, Amy?” Millie asked. “You’ve been covering it with your other hand.”

“Nothing, maybe it’s time to show you something,” she uncovered her hand and held it before Millie.

“Oh my God, Amy. How lovely!” Millie said, clearly astonished.

Amy blushed. “Yes, Anthony proposed last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Amy? I wondered what you were hiding,”

Amy paused a minute.

“After what you went through with Eric, I didn’t know how you’d take this? I know how unhappy you were.”

“How could you think that? I love you Amy and nothing pleases me more than for you to be happy, and I can tell you’re absolutely beaming.”

Amy hugged her friend.

“You’ll be my maid of honor, won’t you?”

Millie smiled at her friend. “I’d be upset if you hadn’t asked me, darling. Of course.”

*****
While Millie was sincerely happy for her friend, she was still devastated how Eric summarily walked out of their relationship. He had shown little sympathy for Millie as she tried to explain the grief she endured in her childhood. He hadn’t even offered a “good-bye.”

It was impossible to avoid seeing Eric from time to time on the small Dortman campus; when they did occasionally come near one another, Millie could see Eric divert his eyes and look in another direction. They had not said a word to each other since he walked out of her home on Labor Day weekend.

“What’s with you and Eric? Have a fight with him?” asked Maria Olivetti, an associate professor in the English Department. Millie and Maria, both being single among of a group of mainly married faculty, had bonded from the first. Maria was a wiry, energetic thirty-something who often assisted Millie in drama productions and the two often met for coffee at the college commons area.

“You might say that, Maria,” Millie replied.

“Sorry to hear that, Millie. The two of you seemed to be getting along so well. I thought I’d be losing a bachelor girlfriend.”

“That won’t happen. It’s over between Eric and me.”

“Can I help out? Talk with Eric, maybe?” Maria offered.

Millie shook her head negatively. “No, please don’t. Just be my friend.”

*****
A week later, on a cool September night, Millie was studying Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard,” which she had selected for the Fall Semester production. The selection had been proposed by several of her senior students – all serious actors – who wanted to try something challenging. While Millie loved Chekhov’s plays, she also knew that the talkative nature of the play might bore the Wauconanda audiences that would not be familiar with the plays. She was bound and determined to present the play in a way that would keep the audience alert and receptive, while not destroying the soul of the play.

In the midst of her concentration, her cell phone rang and she was prompted to ignore it, but looked at it anyway. Eric was calling.

She debated whether to answer. What could she say to him? She didn’t answer and let the phone go into voice mail. Millie tried to get back to “The Cherry Orchard,” but her mind began racing: what could Eric be calling about? Was he going to apologize, or berate her for being a freak and a fraud? Did he want to ask her out for a date, or tell her he wanted her to return the DVD movie he had lent her? Finally, she checked her voice mail; there was no message. He had merely hung up when she didn’t answer.

Millie was angry at herself for not answering. He may never call again, she thought. She put “The Cherry Orchard” script down and went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of merlot. She sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, occasionally taking a sip of wine. She cried herself to sleep.

*****
“Should I call him, Amy?” Millie asked her friend as the two met for their usual Wednesday night dinner.

Millie had brooded over whether to call Eric back after she refused his call the night before. Many thoughts had crossed her mind since the call, many of them around the question of a woman’s role in responding to a man who had walked out on her. Should she stand on her pride and force the man to grovel? Or, should she succumb to her desire to see him again and thus put herself at a disadvantage? After all, Millie had little experience with men, or, for that matter, with love affairs of any kind, since his wife Jennifer had been the only woman Milton ever dated. In her years as a woman, she had only limited relations with men.

“Let me ask you something first before I answer that, Millie,” Amy replied.

“Yes?”

“Do you feel you love him, love being with him?”

Millie pondered the question. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer.

“That’s all right. Take your time,” her friend counseled.

Millie smiled. Amy seemed to be so wise. Finally she answered, speaking slowly and deliberately:

“I don’t know exactly, Amy. I know I don’t love him as much as a did Jennifer. No one will ever replace her.”

“That’s not what I asked. Your Jennifer is gone eight years now, Millie, and you have a life ahead of you.”

Moisture filled Millie’s eyes as she recalled Jennifer’s warm, knowing smile. She always seemed to understand when Millie (then living as Milton) needed a hug or a kiss. She was always the strong person in their relationship, but she never let her power over him become oppressive.

“Yes, Amy,” she continued finally. “I’m not sure ‘love’ is the right word, but I do know I love being with him. We’re so comfortable together. In a sense, I feel as good being with him as I did with Jennifer.”

“Then call him up, Millie,” Amy said without hesitation. “You can easily explain that you couldn’t find your cell phone when he called before he hung up. Tell him you were calling him back to see what he wanted.”

“Like that?”

“Sure, that’s natural thing to do. Make it a business-like call, more as a courtesy. Who knows what he wanted to say to you?”

“I guess so,” she said.

“Do it now,” Amy said. “Go to the powder room and that’ll give you some privacy. There’s a nice lounge area and usually it’s empty.”

*****
The next night, Eric picked Millie up at six o’clock as she left the drama department; she had spent the afternoon with the students charged with setting the scenery and costumes for the forthcoming play. Her spirits were high that afternoon and the students apparently sensed that; they, too, worked on the project with renewed enthusiasm.

“I am so sorry for how I walked out on you that night, Millie,” Eric told her when she placed the phone call.

“You left me without so much as a ‘good-bye.’”

“I’m sorry,” he said, stuttering and stammering. “I was . . . ah . . . ah . . . shocked, I guess. I couldn’t believe it . . . ah . . . it seemed so wrong . . .”

Millie felt terrible for him as he struggled through his explanation. “I felt so hurt, but it wasn’t right for me to spring that on you like that.”

“No, Millie, I was cruel to you. Can we meet and talk a bit?”

“I don’t know, Eric,” she said slowly. “Will it do any good?”

“Maybe not, but Millie, I’ve enjoyed these months with you,” he said. Haven’t you, too?”

“Yes, Eric, I have. Very much.”

“Let’s not throw this all away, Millie. How about tomorrow night? I know a quiet place we can talk.”

She had agreed to meet him, but was upset with herself for not setting the time later so that she could go home to change before their meeting. She knew she would feel grubby and unkempt after a day of teaching and working on the Chekhov play; nonetheless, she tried to dress that morning in a somewhat upscale manner, choosing to wear her new flowing paisley skirt, a white blouse and an embroidered jacket. She fussed with her hair, finally deciding to let it flow naturally and straight. She knew Eric liked her more casual hair styles.

*****
“I hope you don’t mind a little drive tonight, Millie,” Eric said as she stepped into his car. Unlike his habits in the past, he did not leave the driver’s seat of his car and get out to hold the door open for her. In their dates previously, he had always been gentlemanly. In a way, Millie was pleased that he was beginning the evening in a more business-like manner.

“No, Eric, it’s a beautiful night. I guess we have a full moon, too.”

“Yes, we do,” he said, smiling once she was buckled in. “Maybe that’s a good sign.”

He made no attempt to kiss her, as they normally did when they met. She sat erect on the right side of the car, content to stay away from direct contact. Eric, too, sat straight and concentrated on his driving. Neither spoke until they were out onto the highway, and even then the words between them were few. Millie wondered a couple of times about where he was taking her, and Eric’s response was a noncommittal “you’ll see,” although once he did add the words: “I think you’ll love it.”

Millie felt somewhat reassured by his comment; Eric had always been straight-forward with her so even now she tended to believe him.

It was late October and already it was dark; Millie watched the lights from the occasional farm houses they passed, wondering if the folks inside were enjoying a happy life or facing terrible traumas. Eric drove at just about the speed limit, warily looking for deer, bear and other wildlife which often crossed the rural highway. She wondered what Eric had in mind. Was he going to rape her, she wondered, to discover whether she was really a woman? Or, just talk?

Finally, bright lights beamed across the highway ahead like an oasis in the darkness; it turned out to be lights from a place carved out of the forest called Snuffy’s Lakeview Resort. The place was a two-story building, built of logs probably more than 50 years before. Signs advertising “Leinenkugel’s,” “Miller Lite” and other beers brightened the dark landscape. Millie noticed moonlight sparkling across the waters of a lake that appeared between the trees just beyond the back of the tavern building. A handful of cars were parked on the gravel lot.

Eric parked the car and got out, guiding her through the evening coolness to the front door of the tavern. The lights of the interior dazzled for a minute, in contrast to the dark night through which they had been driving.

“Eric, you ol’ sunovagun, where ya’ been keeping yourself,” a burly bartender boomed out as they entered. “And who’s the lovely lady?”

Eric smiled broadly as he guided Millie with his hand toward the bar.

“Snuffy, this is Millie, and she’s probably the reason we haven’t been out here recently, and Millie, meet Snuffy owner of this flea bag resort.” He said this in a teasing tone, indicating he had a warm, longtime relationship with the owner.

Millie held out her hand in a feminine manner and she was almost expecting Snuffy to bend down and kiss it. Instead he just held it gently and said, “Well if you’re the reason he’s not been here for a while, I must say I totally understand.”

Millie blushed.

Eric guided her onto a bar stool and Snuffy took their orders; Eric ordered a “Leinie’s,” the popular beer of the area, and though Millie seldom drank beer, she ordered the same. Eric looked at her: “Go ahead. Order what you want, dear. Snuffy can really mix fancy drinks as good as any bartender on 5th Avenue.”

“No, a beer is fine,” she said, smiling.

Millie had never before seen this side of Eric; usually he was reserved, even uptight at times, but at this rustic tavern he seemed to become comfortable and at ease. He obviously was what you’d call a “man’s man,” she felt, and that may have been at the root of his abrupt charge out of the door on the night she told him of her transgendered status.

“May we have one of those tables at the window, Snuffy, maybe so we can be somewhat alone?” Eric asked after they had enjoyed a few sips of beer and spent time bantering with the owner.

“Sure, there’s just one family back there now, and I doubt we’ll get much of a crowd tonight. Thursday night is always slow, until hunting season begins next week.”

Snuffy, a still-athletic man in his 70s, led them into the dining area and seated them at a booth looking out upon the lake, sparkling in the moonlight. A family of four, including two young children, were seated in another window-side booth, at the other end of the room.

“You two should find it quiet back here,” Snuffy said, and with a gentlemanly courtesy, assisted Millie into her booth. Eric sat opposite to her.

Snuffy carried the couple’s drinks out from the bar and placed them in front of them, asking if there was anything further. “The special tonight is an eggplant parmesan with my special pork sausages, folks.”

“Oh, Millie,” Eric said. “I’ve had it and it’s tremendous. I don’t know what your wife does to make it Snuffy, but it’s great. Want to try it, dear?”

“Why not? How can I resist after that review?”

“We’ll each have it, Snuffy, and a bottle of the merlot you feature here would be fine, too. And take your time, Snuffy.”

Snuffy moved away and Eric turned to Millie. “Well, what do you think, Millie?”

“About what, Eric? The moon? Or Snuffy? Or, Us?”

Eric laughed nervously; he was obviously ill at ease, and had prolonged their time at the bar and used their talk with Snuffy to put off the real purpose of his invitation to dinner.

“Well, to start with, how about Snuffy and this place?”

“It’s great, and so is your friend, Snuffy,” she said. “You’d hardly expect a place like this deep in the woods. But, Eric, let’s talk about us. You didn’t bring me out here to talk about Snuffy.”

He blushed. Millie knew he was awkward around women, having lived most of his adult years with his mother while teaching at a provincial college, even if it was one with highly rated credentials. Eric had never married, and as far as she knew he may never have had a serious relationship with a woman. For all she knew, he was a sixty-something virgin.

“Millie,” he began, talking slowly and with deliberation. “I’ve rehearsed what I wanted to say to you for days, and now I feel tongue-tied.”

“Take your time,” Millie said, reaching across the table and resting her hand lightly upon his. Her touch appeared to calm the slight shaking of his hand.

“I’ve never felt this way about another person before, Millie. I’ve relished every minute we’ve spent together in the last few months, and I don’t want it to end.”

He stopped talking and looked at me, his eyes pleading with Millie to respond, but she merely tightened her grip on his hand and waited for him to continue. Just then a middle-aged waitress appeared and asked if they were ready to be served, or did they want another drink. Eric said they wanted to wait before eating but that he wanted another beer and Millie asked if the waitress could bring the merlot so that she could have that instead.

They said nothing as they awaited the return of the waitress, Millie holding onto Eric’s hand. She returned with the bottle of merlot, two wine glasses and the beer and Eric said he’d pour the wine. “Give us about 15 minutes and then you can bring our salads,” he told her.

Finally he began to talk again, his words coming out nervously, and less rehearsed.

“Oh Millie, I was so cruel to you. I should have given your explanation more consideration. But I was in such shock; how could you have ever been a man or even a boy? You’re the most feminine of creatures and I dearly love you for it. I love guiding you on our walks in the woods, helping you over fallen logs and through thickets of bushes and even rubbing bug juice on you to ward off the mosquitoes. You looked so helpless and I wanted to be your man forever.”

“And I would want to be your woman forever, Eric?” she said in a rush, before bursting into tears.

“Don’t cry,” he said, moving out of his seat across from Millie and sliding in next to her and putting his arm about her. She cried into his shoulder.

“Oh, Eric, I’m so happy and I want so much to please you, but I want you to know I’m not a freak of nature. Right now, I’m as much of a woman as any, except that I could never conceive a child.”

With that, he laughed. “Well, we’re hardly of child-bearing age, are we?”

Her crying turned to laughter and they both began to laugh. Eric got up from his side of the booth, and without asking her moved in beside her, as she slid over to give him room. Millie looked into the bar area and notice Snuffy approaching. “Well aren’t you two looking cozy!” he said, smiling.

“Of course we are, Snuffy, and mind your own business, you old gossip,” Eric said, his tone playful.

“Just love seeing two happy people, Eric,” the tavern owner replied. “You want your food now?”

“Yes,” Eric said.

“Let me fix my face first, Snuffy,” Millie said, realizing that after her crying jag she must look a fright.

Returning to the booth, the two continued to sit together on one side; both felt content to be next to the other, saying little, other than to comment on the salad, which was remarkably tasty involving spinach, kale, almonds, cheddar cheese bits, shrunken cranberries and a moderately spicy dressing. “This may be the best salad I’ve ever tasted,” Millie said.

Later after finishing their main course, they declined dessert and lingered over coffee.

“Eric, may I ask if you accept me now and what changed your mind?” Millie began.

“Well, Millie, you know I am a researcher,” he began. “And, I was curious. I really knew nothing about . . . ah . . . ah . . . what should I say . . . guys who dress as women. I really thought they were just clowns or something.”

Millie nodded, giving him time to put his thoughts together.

“Only after my search on the Internet did I find out about transgendered people, and I guess you’re like that, Millie. Is that right?”

“Yes, darling it is. As long as I can remember I always hated being a boy and when I was about thirteen I realized that maybe I was more like a girl. I was never much of a boy, not very strong, but I tried to put on a masculine face. It was a phony mask, really.”

“I know you’ve told me about your children, Millie. I just assumed you were a widow and your husband had died and you didn’t like to talk about it.”

“I was married to the most wonderful woman in the world,” Millie began. “Jennifer understood me and we did have two children together. They never knew about my female side until I transitioned about a year after Jennifer died. That was nearly eight years ago.”

“And now you say you’re almost a complete woman? You’ve had the operations and all?”

“Yes, dear, if we ever decide to have sex together, you’ll never know the difference. I have a vagina just like other women and I have orgasms, too. And my breasts, though somewhat small, are all natural, a product of my own genetics and hormones.”

Eric was silent for a minute; he took a sip of coffee and caressed Millie’s hand. It was a soft, gentle caress, full of love and it stirred Millie emotionally.

“It was something Professor Olivetti said that got me in the right direction,” he said.

“Maria said something to you?” Millie asked. “I confided in her that we broke up though I didn’t tell her why, but I asked her not to talk to you about it. I hope you didn’t tell her about me, my trans status.”

“Oh no, you just told me only the college president and selection committee know about it, Millie. I said nothing, but I’ve known Maria for years and we’ve been friends. She could see I was unhappy and she said something that made me think.”

“What was that?”

“She said simply this: ‘I understand you and Millie have broken up. I don’t know why, but I know each of you care for each other so if you can do anything about getting back together, you should. Millie is the sweetest person. Ask yourself, Eric, that if you’d prefer to be with her than anyone else and if you say yes you better go back to patch up your problems.’”

“Really? She said that?” Millie asked.

“Yes, and the answer was that I wanted desperately to be with you and whatever problems your past may bring our way, together we’d face them. I love you so much, Millie.”

“And I love you, Eric, forever and ever.”

The two hugged and kissed, bringing applause from Snuffy and the waitress.

Chapter Fourteen: Wedding Bells Twice Over

The double wedding ceremony was held on the Saturday before Valentine’s Day in St. George’s Catholic Church, a huge modern church located on the outskirts of Wauconanda. A mixed timber forest surrounding the church’s huge parking lot and huge piles of plowed snow surrounded the lot. The temperature hovered around twenty, and a bright sun beamed down warming the throngs moving into church for the ceremony. After several weeks of below zero temperatures, the almost windless day felt balmy to the residents of the area.

Virtually every seat was occupied in the one thousand seat chapel as Amy Bridgewater (soon to be Amy Wicker) and Mildred Lester (soon to be Mildred Gustafsson) arrived to gather at the back of the church before their trek down the aisle.

“Looks like the whole town turned out, Amy,” Mildred whispered to her friend.

“I think most of them are former students of yours, Millie,” she said.

“Along with Eric’s students and a good number from the mill, Amy.”

The brides were dressed in traditional white, and both wore dresses that ended at mid-calf. Mildred’s dress had cap sleeves with an illusion neckline, and flared out from her hips. Amy wore a strapless model with a ruched waist style.

“It’s about time,” Amy’s escort said, taking her away from her friend.

Trent Wicker, her future husband’s 15-year-old son, would accompany Amy down the aisle, ready to “give her away” to his father, waiting expectantly with his best man, a brother.

Millie clutched the arm of Kevin, her oldest son, who stood erect, unsmiling. Millie cried when he agreed to give her away. She was overjoyed when Kevin arrived to celebrate Christmas with her, and for the first time bringing his entire family, his wife Pamela and their two sons, Zachary, 15, and Ely, 13. It appeared that Kevin had finally accepted that his onetime father was now a woman.

Pamela confided with Millie that it took some pressure to convince Kevin to open up his mind to the fact that his father had transitioned. Millie had always liked Pamela and felt she was a moderating influence on Kevin who always had a doctrinaire, macho approach to life. Also, Millie’s daughter apparently told Kevin that it would be wrong to rob his onetime father of joy, recalling how Millie – as Milton – had always been a doting father, always attending his soccer and baseball games, even helping out with coaching chores even though Milton never had been much of an athlete.

The real force that changed Kevin’s mind likely was his eldest son, Zachary, who began asking questions about his grandparents, wondering why they never saw their grandfather after Jennifer had died. Kevin finally broke down, telling the boy the truth about his grandfather’s transition; rather than being repelled Zachary found the situation to be interesting and compelling.

“Dad, what’s so bad about that?” the boy asked. “I heard about a boy who has been going to school as a girl since 10th Grade. Sometimes kids don’t feel right as one sex or the other.”

“How do you know about that, Zachary?” his father asked.

“Look it up on the Internet, dad,” the boy said.

Even though Kevin warned Zachary about believing everything he saw online, he found his curiosity piqued and began his own research; eventually, he came to believe that his father’s transition may have been necessary for him to retain his sanity. In further discussion about his father with both Pamela, his wife, and Diane, his sister, he learned that their mother had been aware of his father’s feelings and had done much during their marriage to embrace the practice, without exposing it to others in the family.

“With mom’s death, Kevin,” his sister told him, “Dad’s safety net was gone. Apparently he had wondered why he wasn’t born a girl while he was a teenager and it was something that haunted him all his life.”

“But I never saw any of that in him, Diane. He took me to ballgames and we played catch and went fishing, just like the other dads.”

“He loved you, Kevin, and Millie loves you just as much. Can’t you be happy that as Millie she is finally herself and maybe heading to being the happiest since mom died?”

“I guess he deserves that, Diane,” Kevin said reluctantly.

As the two couples stood at the back of the church awaiting the beginning of their march down the aisle, Millie could feel that Kevin still was not comfortable with her new life as a woman. Millie cried profusely the previous night when Kevin, his wife and the two boys showed up for the rehearsal dinner at the Woodfield County Club.

Zachary, the oldest grandson, was the first to run up to Millie and she grabbed him and held him tightly, tears rolling down her cheek. She hadn’t seen him since he was eight years old, and now he was almost a full-grown man, standing nearly six feet tall with a muscular athletic frame.

“What do we call you? You don’t look like a grandpa.” the boy said when they finally broke their hug.

Millie laughed, but took the boy’s hands in hers and looked up into his eyes.

“Zack, I think you should call me Millie or Mildred, as you prefer,” she began. “You must remember grandma as grandma even though she’s gone from us now. And grandpa is gone, too, in a way. So call me by my new first name, sweetie.”

The boy smiled and said. “I love you, Millie.”

She welcomed Ely, the youngest son, with the same hug and show of affection; the boy was slender and almost fragile. He approached cautiously apparently being somewhat fearful of a strong show of affection. He had none of the robust features of Zachary or his father, but seemed to reflect his mother’s smallish, delicate features.

“Hi Millie,” the boy said as she hugged him, but he held his body limp and didn’t return the hug.

“I love you, Ely and I’m so happy to see you,” she said.

The boy quickly broke from Millie and went back to stand next to his mother.

Kevin was quiet during the rehearsal dinner, but Pamela kept up a constant line of chatter; Millie was pleased to find time to talk with Ely, who after some prodding told of his own interest in acting in his middle school’s play. He even confessed to liking poetry, and Millie suggested he look at Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnets.

*****
Both couples drove to the nearby casino hotel, and occupied two of the honeymoon suites for the evening of the wedding; they agreed to take a joint honeymoon trip to Paris for a week in July. Neither Millie nor Eric could spend time in February for a honeymoon break, since they had classes to teach and Millie was already deeply into beginning rehearsals for the spring play. Amy and Anthony had similar busy work months in February; thus a July honeymoon break made sense.

Mr. and Mrs. Wicker took the European Honeymoon Suite at the casino, a two room suite decorated with Alpine artifacts and containing a large round, canopied bed and a hot tub.

“At least they didn’t overdo it in here,” Amy said. “I’ve been in some of these suites that were decorated like bordellos.”

“You have? I thought you were married only once before,” Anthony said.

Amy giggled. “I thought that’d bother you. Yes, only once before and all we could afford on our wedding night then was a cheap motel just out of town.”

“When were you in those honeymoon suites, then?”

“I was in those rooms not as a newly-wed, my darling, but because I checked into a hotel late several times on my travels. I had a guaranteed reservation and they had to put me into the only available room, which often was the honeymoon suite.”

“Thank God. I thought you had more surprises for me,” he said relieved.

“No, Anthony, my love. You know all there is to know about me, I’m sure,” she said, kissing him.

“I can’t wait to see you in that new nightgown, Amy,” he said.

“And I need you in my arms.”

“What are we waiting for?”

Later in the after-love period, Amy turned to look in the half-light of the room at Anthony, and smiled at his rested, content face. “We are so perfect together,” she thought. “I wonder how Millie and Eric are doing.” She was concerned for her friend, since she knew the two would be consummating their relationship that night; they had not yet made love, Millie had confessed.

“I’m so inexperienced,” Millie told her friend. “I’ve never been made love to as a woman. I hope I fulfill his hopes.”

“I’m sure you will, Millie. It comes naturally.” Nonetheless, Amy was worried that Millie’s honeymoon night might be a disappointment. She didn’t think Eric – who had lived a fairly sheltered life – was experienced in matters of love, either.

*****
Millie looked at the man standing before, six-feet tall, blonde hair slightly receding from his forehead. She thought he was an heroic figure, almost hairless with pink skin, but with a trim sinewy body and not an ounce of fat. He wore only briefs. More than sixty years old and the man had the body of a twenty-something athlete.

She lay on the rounded mattress of the canopied bed in the Polynesian Honeymoon suite decorated a bit kitschy, but still pleasant and peaceful. She wore a gauzy night gown that hung to mid-thigh; her body, too, was firm, but appeared to be soft and appealing. Both had showered after the reception – separately, since both had prudish attitudes.

“You’re so lovely,” Eric said, looking down at her.

“And you are my handsome knight,” she said, smiling. She patted the bed next to her, inviting him to join her. She longed to move her body next to his.

Slowly, almost as if he were reluctant to do so, he lowered himself to the bed, and lay down next to her, their flesh warming to each other. Her hands caressed his body, astonished at the smoothness of his skin, almost like a baby’s; her fingers found the hard sinews of his arms as she positioned herself on top of him.

They began kissing voraciously and she felt his manhood – still encased in his briefs – stiffening and growing; she moved her hands down to the shaft, luxuriating her fingers in the thin, fine hair of his pubic area before encircling the shaft. His breathing grew heavy, and soon they reversed positions and he was on top of her and her legs apart. As they turned into the position, Millie pushed his briefs down and Eric eagerly used his feet to slip them off to the foot of the bed.

She panted, breathlessly whispering, “Oh Eric, make me your woman.”

His fingers entered her vagina and she screamed, “Yes, Yes,” but to her dismay he stopped suddenly. “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No, Eric, please enter me. Now.”

Her orgasm was noisy and almost violent as he emptied himself into her, collapsing when he finished on top of her.

They made love three more times that night; they stayed in bed as lovers until their brunch date with Amy and Anthony neared, forcing them out of bed and into the shower to clean up after the night’s adventures. This time they showered together.

As the water cascaded down upon them, Eric held her tightly and said softly, “You’re all woman, Millie. Completely.”

She kissed him and said: “And you’re quite a man, Eric.”

*****
“Did you ever see four such happy people?” the hostess said as she led the two couples to a special reserved table; she was aware they were enjoying their joint honeymoon at the hotel.

“Particularly those two,” Amy said, nodding toward Millie and Eric.

“They look like they had a busy night,” Anthony said with a laugh.

Both Millie and Eric blushed; they looked at each other and even before they sat at the table, Eric kissed her.

“I think they’re in love,” Amy said, laughing.

“How’d you guess that?” Anthony asked, a bit of knowing sarcasm in his voice.

Later as they lingered over champagne before heading for the buffet table for food, Amy turned to Millie and asked, “You won’t forget your old girlfriend now that you’re enraptured with Eric, will you?”

Millie smiled, “Never.”

“Then I propose a toast,” Eric began, raising his glass.

The others joined him and he said: “To Amy and Millie, may they be best friends forever.”

“Oh darling,” Millie said to Eric, “For Amy and me our toast should be: ‘May we be best girl friends forever.’”

As they clinked their glasses together, Amy said, “And to the friendship between all of us forever.”