The Photo Shoot (A Fantasy)

It was just a simple photo shoot. I wanted to see what it was like to be a bride, and I needed a groom, so I asked my best friend if he’d help me out.

He’d known for some time about my being transgender. But he’d never seen me dressed as a girl, let alone as a bride. Since today I would be all dolled up by a professional, I thought this would be as good a time as any to show him something more. I figured that I’d be sufficiently convincing as a woman under these circumstances. I had no ulterior motives beyond that. I swear!

“You’ll just have to put on a tux, which they have at the studio, and then maybe put your arm around me, or hold hands a little bit, and maybe gaze into my eyes. It doesn’t have to be too weird, and it’ll probably be fun.”

He did think it was a little weird, and wasn’t really into the idea at first. But he wasn’t totally repulsed, and at least sort of intrigued, and he finally agreed after I twisted his arm just a little bit, mostly because he could see how much I wanted it, and he wanted to be supportive.

On the night before the shoot, I was a bundle of nerves, feeling at least a little like I imagine a bride might feel. I had taken the bold step of getting my nails done, since the studio made it clear that this wasn’t part of the preparations they offered. This was a new experience for me, and I spent a lot of time admiring them that evening. Having such beautifully feminine nails actually inspired me to shave my legs, if only to watch girly fingertips go up and down my legs.

The next morning, I waited for him nervously. Maybe he will chicken out, I thought. This is pretty scary. May I will chicken out. Maybe this will be too much for our friendship. Will everything will be different now? Will things get weird? Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested this. Maybe I should just call the whole thing off.

But I was sort of frozen. I couldn’t do anything but stare out the window in anticipation. And when I saw his car, I knew I couldn’t back out. He didn’t back out, so how could I? This was my idea! I took a deep breath, and headed out.

As I got into his car, he immediately noticed my nails and gave a little whistle. “So you are really into this,” he said, casually, but a little surprised.

“I guess so,” I blushed. It was the first time I had ever actually allowed him to see me indulge my femininity, and I was relieved that he didn’t freak out and just drive away.

“Thanks for doing this,” I blurted. “I mean, thanks for not changing your mind.”

“Well, it’s weird, but you got me sort of curious.” He paused. “You smell good, too,” he said, still sort of warming to the whole thing.

I had put on just a little bit of perfume, as a bride might, and got a little thrill that he had noticed. “I hope it’s not too much.”

“No. It’s great. You smell like a girl.”

I felt another thrill inside. “I’m glad you like it.”

And, with that, we headed out to get “married.”

The car ride was about 20 minutes, and we talked the way we usually do — about current events, movies, a little sports. It was very casual, and really just normal for us. I could feel him glance now and then at my hands, but there was no hiding them. I just let it go, smiling inside.

He asked a couple of questions about what he had to do, and I gave him pretty basic instructions. “Really, they will tell you whatever you need. Your part is pretty simple. You just have to be the guy. My part is a little more complicated.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have to pick a dress, and they do my make-up and hair…”

“So you’re saying it’s going to take you a while to get ready, just like any other girl.”

“Exactly,” I said, with a little laugh, and blushing at that characterization of me.

When we got to the photo studio, I left him with one attendant, and went off with another. “See you in about an hour.” I think I may have actually giggled.

“OK, then. Have fun,” he replied with a smile.

Just as I’d hoped, I got to choose from a collection of the most beautiful wedding gowns, and the primping was amazing. I watched myself in the over-sized mirror being transformed into a gorgeous bride, far more beautiful (if I do say so myself) than I would have ever imagined possible. Every once in a while one of the girls snapped a picture of my progress, instantly sending them to my phone for later.

The makeup artist and stylist were wonderful, and treated me just like I imagined a real bride should be treated. They even joked about how my buddy was totally going to “fall in love” with me the minute he saw me dressed this way.

Finally, after almost 90 minutes we headed out of the dressing room for the main studio.

Before my friend saw me, they had him cover his eyes. Then they walked me into position with my back toward the camera, but in full view of his face, ready to record his reaction upon first seeing me. Then they told him to uncover his eyes.

When he did, a gigantic smile spread over his face as the flashes popped, and then he got sort of a deeper look, and his smile turned into something different, more interesting. “You, you look amazing,” he mumbled. And I think he DID fall in love with me in that moment.

What I didn’t realize until later was that the makeup artist had continued taking pictures on her phone, this time of my face as I saw his reaction. When I looked at these later, I could see that I was blushing, and smiling bigger than ever before, and looking positively radiant and demure all at the same time. I was, literally, a blushing bride. And I think that I totally fell in love with him when I saw him in that tuxedo smiling at me.

It wasn’t just the tuxedo, though. As he looked at me, and I tried to maintain my composure, I realized what he was doing by agreeing to be here with me, just how nice he was being to me — despite being totally straight, and at least a little weirded out by the idea when I’d first proposed it. He had gotten over that and agreed to expand his horizons a little bit, and it was all to support my desire to have some fun and experience something I’d always dreamed of. We’d shared so many great times together over the years, and he decided to treat this as just another kind of fun.

So I fell in love with him because of his friendship for me, and his willingness to pretend, for an afternoon, to be my groom. Well, all of that AND the tuxedo. He looked really great in it.

After a moment of awkward silence, when I wasn’t really sure just how this was going to go, an assistant walked me into position at my friend’s side. She guided his arm around my waist, adjusted my bouquet and veil, and then told us to smile. The picture-taking got underway.

We went through all of the traditional wedding poses — holding hands, me tucked in front of him (he stands just the right amount taller than me in real life, so this worked out perfectly), and even the obligatory garter belt removal (I hadn’t anticipated this, and was very glad I’d shaved my legs the night before).

The photographer’s assistant gradually moved us into more intimate poses. She pushed us a little closer together, at one point having me gently lay my head on my groom’s chest with my hand on his lapel. I could hear his heartbeat, and I could feel my own heart pounding. This was amazing.

Eventually, I found myself with my arms around his neck, being told to gaze lovingly into his eyes. It was easy. I WAS in love in that moment. And he gazed just as easily back at me. We sort of froze, and the whole room faded away for a second.

After a few shots, the assistant stepped in and whispered to my friend, “You may kiss the bride.”

I hadn’t expected this at all, and my heart, which had already been fluttering uncontrollably through most of the shoot, skipped a beat wondering what he would do. I could actually see the longing in his eyes, and he told me later that all he could focus on were my red lips and how completely inviting and delicious they looked. He told me that I had parted them very slightly and then turned them upward just enough to show that I actually wanted him to kiss me. (I don’t remember consciously doing this, but I believe him.)

He didn’t wait long before turning his head just a bit, leaning in, and giving me the most tender, yet masculine, kiss I could imagine. Any part of me that had not yet melted in the excitement of the day was completely gone now. My legs, trying to stay steady on my heels, were quivering and feeling like jelly. As he kissed me, his hands on my waist pulled me toward him, and my arms automatically closed tighter around his neck.

I have all the pictures, so I know the camera flashed, but I didn’t notice it at the time. I was too lost in the unexpected fireworks passing between me and my best friend.

Toward the end of this amazing kiss, he pulled me just slightly closer to him, and through the satin and lace of my wedding gown I felt, for the first time ever, the press of an aroused man against me. It startled me, but felt oh so right. Oddly, but wonderfully, I was still soft despite a warm, sexual tingling that I felt throughout my entire feminized body.

“Get a room, you two!” They were laughing. The photography had stopped, but we hadn’t noticed. When I watched the video clip later on my phone (sent by that very persistent makeup girl), I discovered that we had kissed for almost a full minute, and that there were actually seven kisses, followed by a big hug. None of the kissing had been overly aggressive. In fact, we had kissed in the shy way that people do on a first or second date, not the way you might before a night of passion.

But I will admit that a night of passion did cross my mind during that minute, and he said the same when we talked later.

As our session ended, we walked together toward the dressing rooms — me holding up my dress, and him with a hand planted firmly on my back. He was guiding me just the way a groom might actually support his nervous bride, teetering in her heels.

Just before turning the corner and going our separate ways, he said my name (my adopted girl name) in a way I had never heard before. I turned, let go of my dress, and then stepped toward him. I said his name in a way I had never done before. I said it sort of like a question, wondering why he had stopped me.

“Thank you,” he said, in a voice more tender than I’d ever heard from him before. Instinctively, I stepped toward him.

“Thank you,” I replied, and those two words were all that was necessary to sum up how our relationship had changed over the past couple of hours.

Next, without thinking, I placed my hand on his chest. He wrapped his hand around mine, and I turned my face up toward his again.

My lips must have parted because he once again placed his lips on mine and pulled me close, our clasped hands caught between our pounding hearts. I think it’s fair to say that neither of us wanted this afternoon to end.

Much to my great joy, I found a video of this moment waiting on my phone later. God bless that makeup girl! The formal pictures were amazing, but the informal pictures and videos simply completed the package. I cherish them all to this day.

After we had changed back into our street clothes (I decided not to remove the make-up right away), we met at the reception desk, paid the bill, and thanked our hosts. “You two were great,” the photographer gushed. “I have taken pictures of a lot of people kissing, but it usually doesn’t look so sweet. These pictures will be great.”

And they were. But not as great as what happened next.

As we headed out the front door, my good friend once again placed his hand in the small of my back, then gently slid it down and into mine as we walked toward the car. And when we got there, he did something he had never done before, but has now done many times since. He opened the car door for me, and closed it behind me.

From the moment I told him I was trans, he’s been very gracious about the subject, sympathetic and kind. But that photo shoot changed something, and from that moment on he saw me as a woman. I’m still his old friend, but my womanhood added a dimension that turned out to be most welcome.

We had gone out to movies together — as friends — for years, but from that point on, these outings were clearly dates. At first, they ended with a shy peck. But after a while, we decided to go back to his place, where we got more practiced at kissing one another. We both could feel that our friendship had blossomed into something much different and greater. About 10 months later he started making little comments about our photo shoot, how real it had felt, and how it opened his mind to new possibilities. I could see where he was going, and I was overjoyed.

When he finally asked if we could do that all again, only for real this time, I said yes immediately. Our actual wedding was even more magical than the photo shoot had been, with everything amplified because it was real, and in the presence of our families. I pledged my love to him, and he to me. And when we kissed, it was every bit as fresh as on that first day. My jelly legs quivered in my high heels, and he pressed himself against me again. Only now, when it was over, I had become his wife.

Later that night, we exchanged the passion we had only imagined on the fateful day of the photo shoot, fully aware that we each got to marry our best friend. He says that he’s a very lucky man, and I know that I am a very lucky woman.