Something to Declare by Cyclist

Chapter 19

I left the office floating, after first zipping up so as not to frighten the receptionist/PA/secretary/officially known as a “Messenger”

Elaine was a sweet old woman, but she did rather inhabit the “Middle England” dreamworld of certain quite strident newspapers, and an attack of the vapours on her part would have Vanessa demanding my head.

And that was that. I had opened the box at last and unless I had a radical change of heart there was no way back. I sniggered to myself… change of heart? All pigs fuelled and ready for take off. I had two weeks before the match, and that gave me a little time to settle into my new life before the big outing. I knew what I was going to do, and it was so simple I wondered why it had not occurred to me earlier.

Steve would play, then Geoff would escort Stephanie to the post-match dinner. I was surprising myself with my confidence. After all the support I had found thus far, I was actively enjoying the shock I created with just a bit of cleavage. The look on Dilip Kumar’s face….I started to chortle, and once I had brought myself back to Earth I gave Geoff a ring to let him know the score. He was due round that evening, oddly, and without telling him, I had cleared some wardrobe space for his use. I had realised that waking up next to him was something I wanted to get used to, even if he did fart, but if we went easy on the jalfrezis and dhansaks it might help.

I had a number of specific things to get in hand, including four training sessions, the return to work as Steve for now, and a gown for the dinner. I had decided that Geoff was going to get me at the best I could manage, and I planned to see if Naomi and Jan were up for it.

Ye gods, this is starting to read like one of the poorer bits of fiction I read on the net. “TS goes shopping for sixteen hours”

Unfortunately, there was an element of that to be faced. I knew the sort of gown I wanted, in general terms, but that would mean matching shoes, and ones with heels. I believe I have explained already that while I am a woman I do lack certain urges, the main one being the need to play with flouncy things. I love elegance, I adore floaty skirts, but I could never be a gurly gurl. So I would not only need to find the shoes, but learn to walk in them. Speak to Naomi…..

I started to snigger again, as an image came to me: strapless gown, impeccable make up, and a black eye. That would be just my luck. I rode back deep in thought, only to be jerked awake as the car passenger shouted

“Get on the fucking cycle path, bitch!”

I am sure you will understand that even that bit of typical British venom pleased me. I was going to have to be very, very careful at work.

I called round on Naomi to pick her brains about shopping. Specifically, where I could find a larger pair of shoes, and she reached for her cardigan.

“Chop chop now, and get changed. I’m taking you to a place I know and I will not be accompanied by some odd avatar of Superman…girl…you know what I mean. Chop chop, now!”

She dug out her car keys, and to general reader’s astonishment it was neither a Bentley nor a Tudor, as my father used to call Morris Travellers, because they were half-timbered….but a modern Toyota estate car. More comfortable than a van, and room for bikes…what were her plans for PBP?

No, silly clothing first. We set off to Crawley and its shops. Not exactly the big city, but they had a branch of a shop with the same name as a chain of bike shops that specialised in the larger lad y(no, not a bike shop that specialised...oh, you know what I mean…), as well as a Long Tall Wotsits that did a similar job. Now, I am no landbound sperm whale (stop it) but I have size 8 feet, pretty average for a chap but not the commonest available size for a woman. Catch-22, of course; how do I get used to walking in the damned things without having some in the right size to start with?

As I wondered whether we could actually fit in a visit to the aforementioned Bike shop, I was given a Look.

“Young lady, don’t even think about bicycle retailers. We have a job to be done!”

Naomi led me to Debenham’s for starters, a chain of large department stores for those unfamiliar with the United Kingdom. No, I don’t mean they only sell things to foreign tourists–oh, you still know what I mean.

Did I mention I was happy?

Confused, apprehensive, mental wheels spinning rapidly, terrified of being spotted for what I was and of dropping myself in it with some stupid mistake, but happy.

And with all those thoughts, there was the dress. It was like the Green Dress all over again, I just knew it was right. A ball gown, strapless, with a sort of doubled-over top over a boned bodice (there, I DID know one word!) it was in lilac with a sort of lavender….

OK, to my eye it was in a mix of pale bluish purply shades. Give me a break. The outer skirt covered a several of net layers that made it stand out in an A-line and it was just gorgeous. Naomi took charge, making sure there was one in my size and length, but after a quick shudder at the prices of the shoes on sale we left it reserved and sought the footwear.

“You are not someone I see as a natural for heels, so I have a small suggestion. We buy a cheap pair if we can, you use them to practise in and for the dinner, and then if you never wear such things again, nothing has been wasted”

We ended up at Shoe Land. With the efficiency of a cheetah splitting off a young antelope from the herd, she led me past a succession of truly monstrous items involving platforms, appliqué flowers and retina-piercing colours. There they were, plain court shoes in basic shades with heels I thought I might manage. Prey sighted, chased, cornered and consumed. But was that the shoes or me? We managed to get a discount on the dress on the basis of Naomi’s store card; it fitted rather well, but she insisted there were other things we —I–needed.

“What hosiery d’ya wear, girl? And you will need a bandeau.”

So, I was brought further into the world of tights (pantyhose) and other legwear, and was fitted for a strapless bra that Naomi called a bandeau. I tried it on with the dress and found my frontal aspect rather pronounced….no room for doubts there!

Naomi then insisted on her reward before we began what she called “my regime”, and we ended up in the Viennese coffee shop. For coffees, of course.

And chocolate.

Geoff was round shortly before seven that evening, and I showed him the gown, and of course…..by the time I had put it all away again, the Thai green curry I had in the oven was ready. Yes, I know, but I love curry, and I am sure that I fart too, so that’s just tough. The next morning was to be my first day back at work, and it would be as Steve. I wanted Geoff to help me get ready for that, on the logic that if he saw my preparations, and thus knew the underpinning over the Steph beneath, he would be less likely to freak.

That was a genuine concern. He had never seen me other than as myself, and I wanted him to be involved hands on so as to show him exactly how much was illusion. Of course, I just wanted him hands-on anyway, but that’s another matter.

No, you are not getting any bedroom anecdotes, so tough luck. Let me just say that we slept well until the alarm at 0545 hours (welcome to my world, Geoffrey Woodruff) and after a quick breakfast we began preparations. No changing in a toilet cubicle today, I now had my own little space thanks to Nigel. I allowed Geoff to apply the sticking plaster I used over my nipples, and then he wrapped me up with the elastic strapping. It took a couple of goes before he got the tension right, and I was grateful that I had no hills to climb on my commute. I left before him, and as I did so, I said

“You know my work can mean odd times coming home, staying on late and so on? Well, these will be useful for times like that. These are yours”

I kissed him, and sprinted off to work before he could react to the spare set of house keys I had given him.