I have summoned up courage to go back to the original story, originally published here on Big Closet which was written from the heart with no planning at all. Readers’ comments were helpful all through, so now, I have tried to develop the characters to be the real life people that they are through the events that really took place in the early part of the tale. The fantasy parts which make the second half will be revised and embellished. I hope you like it!
He had rehearsed what he would say many times over.
He had summoned up courage.
He wanted to share his visions of past experiences.
Whether she, Jenny, would enter discussion, he couldn’t be sure.
But he felt confident she would. She had cut his hair many times now.
In her little village salon. Usually first appointment of the day. When it was quiet.
She tended to work on her own each morning. Another stylist came in for afternoons.
It would be quieter. Better if no other clients were there.
Previously, there were often “women of a certain age” there, having their sets and colours.
It was time to dress. His wife had left for her trip that would last several days.
He went to his little stash of clothes to find what he was looking for.
As he dressed in his underwear, his comfort was all-embracing. Softness. Slinkiness.
He slipped into his panties, fastened the suspender belt and rolled up the stockings.
Over the painted toenails. The nail polish glinted. He liked the shimmering shade of red.
He had painted his nails yesterday. Keeping your toenails hidden is easy.
His bra matched the panties, with lovely lace surrounds. Crystal blue satin. Slinky.
He stood back and looked in the mirror, and couldn’t resist putting on the shoes.
As he sat on the bed, the stockings pulled this way and that.
High heels. To die for. Towering stilettos. Crazy really, but sexy. Oh, so sexy!
Size nines. Difficult to find. But worth every penny he had spent on them.
Strappy. The black straps were slim, and wound around his ankle, tiny buckle-fastened.
He couldn’t go out in them – he couldn’t drive the car in them…. So, off they came.
He looked at the makeup tray, neatly laid out on his wife’s dressing table.
She was now away for several days. It was safe. It hadn’t always been so. She knew.
She knew that he would be dressing while she was away. But she wanted none of it.
He was not tempted by the cosmetics. Not now. He was going out. To the salon.
8.30am. He was waiting outside the salon. Where was Jenny? She was a little late.
He watched her arrive from behind the driver’s wheel of his car.
Could he go through with it? Of course, he could. Plan B was just to have the usual cut.
Plan A was to say how much he’d appreciated the cut she’d done last time….
When he was having his 60th birthday.
She had left it a little longer than usual – but he liked it that way.
He would tell her why.
Why he wanted hair she could style, ……… differently.
She greeted him with her usual smile, her brunette hair tumbling past her chin in waves.
“How are you today? Lovely sunshine so early…” she laughed. “Come in.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?!” he replied.
Jenny pottered about finding her styling tools, comb, scissors and suchlike.
Andy’s mind turned and he fund himself humming a Scissor Sisters song.
“Sit down, Andy” she said.
She fussed with the gown that encased him as he sat before her mirror.
Underneath, his bra and panties felt good. His tits didn’t show because of the sweater.
The sweater covered the blouse.
He wished now he had dared to put on some pale lipstick that morning before leaving home.
He had thought about it again as he waited for her, sitting in his car.
But he hadn’t…..
“How do you want the cut this time?” she asked. “A little more off as it’s summer?”
“Well not really….” he hesitated.
“…… You did it really well last time and it was just right because I had a party that weekend…… A “big” birthday… with a “BIG ZERO” and I felt it looked just right.”
“But that was six weeks ago!” she laughed. “Must have some more off now!”
“Well, maybe….. You see I thought then how my hair has changed over the years…. Since I was younger. It’s been awfully conventional for the last twenty years! It wasn’t always like that….”
He paused…… Plan A…. Should he go on? Did she care??? She ran her fingers through his hair.
“In what sense? How has it changed?” she asked, with her head tilted as she looked at him in the mirror. “How has it been… and did you like it better before?” Genuinely interested, she was.
He was encouraged. “You see, I’m sure people’s hair reflects their personalities and, maybe, they do change over time.” he ventured, knowing where he had planned to go with the conversation. “I’m very different now than when I was, say, twenty and at University.”
“Of course we all are…..” she agreed, “Everyone of us changes…so what were you like in your twenties?”
Andy was ready to plunge……. Jenny began to comb his hair, this way and that, as if in thought as to how she would style his hair……. But she didn’t start the cutting…..
Jenny was a talker – he couldn’t get his planned words in edgeways… “You usually have a wash and cut, don’t you?” she asked, and was right. Andy enjoyed having his hair washed. “Come on over to the shampoo basins.”
He was about to say what he was wanting to say, when Jenny went on talking, “I bet you had long hair when you were twenty. Didn’t you tell me one time that you’d had a ponytail?! Was it then? When you were twenty? I can just imagine….!” she said, teasingly.
“Well of course, we were at Uni and nobody spent money on having their hair cut. I didn’t get it cut for three years!” Andy laughed. This was almost what he’d planned to tell her first…… “Lodgings at Uni were great. We had a group of seven of us – three guys and four girls. Perfect!”
“How perfect?” Jenny asked, puzzled by the inequality of numbers.
“Well, one of the guys was gay, so that meant there was me and another guy with four girls!” Andy thought back to the sleeping arrangements and how relationships were built and changed over time there. “Perfect!”. They all remained good friends, though they hardly ever saw eachother now.
Jenny laughed again, fully understanding the meaning of what Andy had said.
“And your ponytail? Was that perfect?”
“Well, it wasn’t at the outset…. It was all a mess really, just scragged back to keep it all out of the way. I didn’t pay it much attention - or look after it at all really……. At least, not in the first year. ……But that all changed around the time of the Students Union Winter Ball that Second year.”
Andy was beginning to warm to his story and Jenny kept herself busy with the shampooing. Andy laid back in the near horizontal chair that sloped up to the basin where his head was rested.
The water coursed over his head. Her hands massaged the shampoo in gently. His undies felt comforting. The straps of his bra were tight as he was outstretched in the shampooing chair. His stockings felt reassuringly tight on their garters. He was right not to have worn the stiletto-heeled shoes. How crazy would that have been…….?!
“How did the Ball change your hair? I don’t get it…” asked Jenny, not understanding at all.
Andy thought about his fetish…… Well, all three he could count… hair, make-up and underwear. At the age of sixty, he really should have grown out of such compulsive fetishes…..
“That year, it was a Winter’s Turnabout Party” he smiled as his mind flooded with memories. “You know, one of those where the guys all go as girls and the girls go as guys….?”
“Indeed I do,” said Jenny. “I’ve been to several myself and they’re usually great fun – so long as people enter into the spirit of the occasion!” “I remember one special one, on a cruise boat……” Jenny started – but Andy was in full flow now………
“You’re right there, but I really didn’t know how much I’d be entered into the spirit…..! It kind-of ran away with itself once one of the girls in our house, Sarah was her name, that’s right, Sarah. She teased me about my hair and said I had no right to go as a girl with a mop like mine. She insisted that it had to be cut and conditioned…….. But she was doing a Hair & Beauty course at the local polytechnic so said she’d do it for me……
“What did she do? Give you an ‘Up-do’? or something?” asked Jenny, getting more curious.
“That’s not the half of it.” replied Andy. “She just took me over – I started with clothes that I found in the charity store - We were lucky that our college was in a well-heeled town that had a wealthy population, so the charity stores often had really quality stuff……”.
His eyes closed to avoid the random dribbles of shampoo that were just getting close to his eyes.
Andy recalled the Ball gown that he had found for himself for just ten quid….. It was perfect, flowing, full-length. Green with lighter slashes of colour. The neck was high and the shoulders covered. He would still have had to shave his chest…. Something Sarah had insisted on. Then he found some fantastic green shoes to match is gown…….
Jenny had paused in rinsing his hair as he had gone quiet with these thoughts.
“And….????” Jenny broke his thoughts with a smile. “And then….???? Did she cut it all off!”
Back to reality.
“Not at all. She said it had to be conditioned because I’d taken such lousy care of it…….. So, ok, we agreed she could do that much. She’d do it on the Wednesday before the Ball on the Friday night. She didn’t tell me what she had in mind…..”
“Sounds like great fun to me.” said Jenny. “I’ve done this for several guys in my time.”
“Not like Sarah did, I’m sure….” Andy went on….. “….Don’t you believe it.” she replied.
“Come the Wednesday, Sarah sat me down and combed my hair through and said it had to be conditioned…… So that’s what I expected she’d do. She put some quite evil smelling stuff all over my hair with a tough little brush, really working it into the hair, and then said I had to wait for it to ‘develop’ – and, to help it she combed it through and wrapped my head in clingfilm. What she didn’t tell me was that the ‘conditioning’ would come later.”
He was into the story now. No turning back…
“What she’d actually done was bleach it completely. I thought it took a lonnnng time before she said it was ‘done’ and, because I couldn’t see what was going on, I just thought it had needed a lot of conditioning.”
“Bleach?? You mean. She was turning you into a blonde for the Winter Ball?” Jenny exclaimed.
“Too right…. But I didn’t know that for a while after……” Andy went on.
“Tell me more – let’s step over to the mirror.” Jenny suggested, wrapping a towel round Andy’s wet hair..
“We didn’t have a mirror like yours, so I couldn’t see. So she washed off the so-called ‘conditioner’ and I was none the wiser. Then she trimmed my hair. I should’ve noticed. The trimmings must’ve been blonde….” Andy though briefly – did he know then? Yes, he must’ve….
Jenny had combed his hair through by now and was beginning her trimming of his, now grey, hair. But she seemed not to be taking much hair off at all.
“How did you feel then?” she asked, not knowing what he would say.
“Well, kinda curious…. I guess…..” Andy paused.
“……But I didn’t know it was blonde…. I was thinking about how she would style me.”
Jenny wanted to know more: “Did you discuss a style for the Ball?”
“Not until then…… It was just about then she asked me if I had a style in mind.” he said. “She said she had plans of her own but mine might be better…”
Again, as the memory flooded back, Andy wriggled in the chair in front of Jenny’s mirror. The bra and panties were snug. The stockings and suspenders were tight. The nail polish, he knew, would be glistening on his toes.
Don’t girls have more fun than guys!!?
Sarah had listened to Andy’s ideas for the style he would want for the Ball. They were not very original………. “I said just leave it long on my neck but pin half up above the crown, no bangs, no flick-ups, no curly bits. Sarah’s idea was already much more developed.”
“Sarah told me to hold still because she was cutting my hair very precisely.” he said.
“She told me that if we were going to the Ball in character, we had to do it properly.”
“Properly? That’s a good Cornish word!” Jenny interrupted. “In character? ….. Did that mean she meant for you to be a celeb or something?” She had not begun trimming Andy’s hair yet.
Andy felt able to continue: “It seemed so – in her mind at least – though she hadn’t told me who.”
“So, you were going to be an actress or someone famous – she might have asked you who you’d like to be! Who did it turn out to be? Who were you at the ball? Jenny was fascinated.
Time was passing – Andy thought – and soon another customer would come into the salon. Soon his fantasy talk with this lovely girl – well, 40-something – this lovely woman, would have to stop.
“She didn’t let me choose – though I was delighted with her choice when I found out – she just went right on with the cutting and conditioning. The comb, I remember, felt silky smooth as it went through my wet hair. Quite unlike the tangled mop that I’d had in the ponytail. I remember being conscious that the hair was shorter – she must’ve cut quite a lot off…”
“While she dried my hair with a hand dryer, she went into details about what ‘doing it properly’ meant…….. She said I had to wear some really quite glamorous make-up, and ear-rings that dangled – she had some of her mother’s, she said – and we had to go to the Stage and Party rental shop in town. They did lots of theatrical clothes for hire really cheaply. I didn’t know what a ‘halter neckline’ dress was, but she said I must have one. They’d do me shoes too. “Heels, she said. You’ll have to try heels and see how women suffer!” Then, she said, she’d do my nails. And very glam make-up.
Andy looked at Jenny in her mirror. “By then, I knew this was going to be no ordinary Party!”
“I should think not…. How superb!” Jenny answered “I worked on Cruise ships for a few years before coming here to Cornwall – or back to Cornwall.”
(Jenny was Cornish through and through, from her curls to her wellies! That’s what Andy liked about her).
“We had some wonderful parties where guests dressed up to the “Nines”, and many were like that.”
Andy continued, not letting her know the character Sarah had planned for him to be at the ball.
Then, the salon’s phone rang…….. “Please take that.” he said to Jenny. So she did. He only caught half the brief conversation,
“Oh, hello there.” “Yes, lovely day…” “That’s right…. Highlights…..” “Well, we said about three hours, didn’t we, that’s why we wanted to start at 9 o’clock…” “Oh, alright then.. let’s have a look in the book…. Yes, quite understand…. Before the weekend… of course……” “Well, Friday later in the afternoon – how would that suit…? I’ll stay late to finish you off… yes, I know it’s a special occasion.” “See you then.” Jenny finished the call. Said “Damn!” and returned to the styling chair where Andy sat.
“Big customer – always has lots of colouring done and comes in ‘reglar’ for a styling. Can’t afford to put her out! So, that’s Friday buggered – have to get to the pub late!” Jenny laughed – it’s business and the customers is always right, thought Andy. “It means we have plenty of time now.”
They turned back to Andy’s story, and his hair today….. Jenny had to start the cutting.
“Leave it longer, please. I just like it so.” said Andy.
“OK, it’s your call.” Jenny replied, combing the hair back off his face. “Tell me more, Blondie!”
“What, about the ball? Oh, yes….” Andy had lost his thread a little.
Where had he reached?......... Oh, yes, Sarah had told him what doing it ‘properly’ meant.
“She dried my hair straight and then revealed that it was Blonde!.........” Andy said now quite excited once more.
“She spun me round and showed me a mirror… and there I was….. Really quite a yellowy kind of blonde…. Bit tarty really…….”
Andy smiled to himself, remembering the stunning look that he saw in that mirror. Was that the moment at which he began his love affair with looking like a girl? It probably was. Forty years later, sitting here now, in Jenny’s salon, he knew it was so.
“She was very pleased with her handiwork and had made it all sleek and soft……. All one length below my chin……. A Bob she called it. No fringe or bangs… But she said I could have those if I wanted. What did I know!?! And she said she wanted to tone the colour before the Ball. I didn’t object to the tarty yellow, in fact….. funny how you get used to a change so quickly!”
“So what did she plan to do with your hair as a style?” Jenny asked.
“She didn’t say. She just said we had to continue the next evening. Meantime, I had to face the world with blonde hair – all sleek and flowing. I really did enjoy the feel of it.” Andy sighed.
“Did enjoy the feel of it…” Andy lapsed into deep thought at that moment, as Jenny combed and decided now how to cut his hair. He was conscious that, under his sweater, his blouse and bra would be perfect if he were sitting in this chair as a woman. His panties, stockings, suspenders and painted toes, likewise. One day, he might venture to the salon dressed. One day, Jenny might get to know him as his alter ego.
“How did that go? How did your flatmates react to you as a blonde…. And what about the rest of your college class?” Jenny pushed him into more recalling of that evening.
“They were cool about it. After all, we were a real mixed bag of lay-abouts and typical student youngsters. In fact some other guys said they’d maybe do something similar.” But then, it was just a blonde change, cut perfectly, ok, but it could be feminine, or whatever.
“We were all going to the Hire store the following day.”
“I just treated it as something I’d decided to do and got some help with doing. “ he reasoned.
“Then there was the Ball….. How did you prepare for that?” Jenny wanted to know all about it. She was getting on with cutting his hair now and just asked occasional questions to prompt Andy’s story along. Jenny could tell, even at this stage, that Andy’s hair was going to get longer in the coming days and weeks. He wanted it that way, she could tell.
“The Hire store came up trumps. Choosing clothes was easy – there was plenty to select from and Sarah had already found the halter neckline dress for me to wear. It was a slinky gold shimmering satin job…. And a pair of size nine gold stilettos to go with it. Ten Quid to hire the lot – bargain! She also got me a new Marks & Spencer’s body stocking that would cover my chest and upper arms to hide my pimples. That would feel very nice, I was to find out later!”
“shit!” Andy thought immediately… how would Jenny react to that? Jenny seemed unmoved.
That shopping had been done the day before the ball, he told her.
“We had a dress rehearsal the night before…. But I still didn’t know who my character would be! “More important, there was the makeup and the final hairstyling to be done. That had to wait until the following day – it seemed like the whole day!” Andy meant that so much.
“Oh, and I haven’t mentioned Sarah’s costume and how she would be dressed….. We got her a pin-stripe suit – a small-size man’s suit . She was to flatten her tits and wear one of my interview shirts and ties. Her shoes had to come from the same theatrical lenders that all my tat came from. She was going to slick her hair down and go for a “City” worker’s character; she’d look like the Julie Andrew’s character in Victor/Victoria, the film that came out later.”
“I kinda like girls dressed that way sometimes….” said Jenny wistfully.
“She looked stunning, I have to say.” he admitted.
The dress rehearsal had given Andy confidence to “go for it” as he said…. To do it “properly” as Sarah had said. He was going to be the “Belle of the Ball”. All blonde and shimmering gold. They agreed that Sarah would go for a really sophisticated make-up look for him. Not at all tarty any more.
“I still didn’t know who I was to be when I sat down on the afternoon of the Ball. Sarah said she wanted to tone my hair – whatever that meant, I didn’t know. Then she said she would set it. Whatever that meant – I was soon to find out.”
She had resolved to work on his hair in the afternoon, before she dressed him as the unknown celeb. That meant toning his yellow-blonde hair with a professional toner – a beige blonde that was almost peach in colour…. Baby Blonde by Clairol.
Who else could it be but Marilyn Monroe? But Andy didn’t know that… then.
He was re-living the experience. The wonderment of what was being done to him. “The toning didn’t take long……. I just sat there waiting for whatever she was to do next.”
Then, he smiled again, as he recalled how Sarah had tested the change in his hair colour before washing out the toner. She then reached for the tray of rollers and told him that he would be going for soft curls, lovely feminine curls, that would frame his face. He hadn’t expected that, at all….. no curls, he had said! What did Sarah care?!
He sat in Jenny’s chair, as she reached the closing stages of his cut. Loving the reminiscences about his first hair colour and set. It had changed his life. It really had.
“It was then that she told me to look forward to looking like Marilyn Monroe…. I nearly died! You have got to be kidding! I said. No way! You can’t get me to look anything like that glorious woman! I dare you!!! I said to her. Then I realized what I’d just said.”
His memory was crystal clear about that moment.
“You dare me, you dare me? Sarah said…… OK, she said………” Andy blushed at the thought. “You will be my Marilyn!” Sarah had said. And so it was to be.
“She reached for this tray of rollers and began to section my hair off into small sections. Then she wound each strand round a roller… some were really big, and others quite small. Some went around the crown of my head, others ran around the sides and the nape of my neck……”
“…..And they were tight… I mean tight!”
“I’m not surprised,” Jenny interrupted, “….. The tighter the rollers, the better the set!”
Andy had then been put under the domed dryer that Sarah had at home for her studies. The rushing sound of the hot air nearly blew him away, he said.
He recalled how being under the dryer he felt especially feminine, sitting there telling Jenny about this experience with his underwear closing in around his body. Andy knew that his crossdressing in later years was all due to that one week at Uni, when the Winter Turnabout Ball took place.
“So, it took half an hour or more and then Sarah took me out to let the rollers cool, and the set take form, which gave her the chance to start with my make-up.” Andy’s smile told Jenny that this was now a full-scale conversion and transformation. Something that Andy was not to forget. Jenny now saw deeper inside her customer than before.
“She put a beige sort-of creamy powdery stuff – which I now know is foundation – after first covering a couple of blotches with something thicker – concealer, they call it, don’t they?”
He sought Jenny’s confirmation – and she nodded. Her final trimming of the hair below the nape of his neck meant that she was done.
“TELL ME HOW MARILYN TURNED OUT”, she said. “I think I can imagine – I think you’d have made a great Marilyn.”
Andy had reached the point in his story that he hadn’t dare to think he would with Jenny.
He was indulging himself. This was his fantasy. He was opening his soul.
That he could transport himself back to his 20s, through the eyes of a gorgeous lady.
His hairdresser. She certainly had encouraged him to tell his story.
Thoughts flashed through his mind. He had gone much further than he intended…….. They had reached the stage where, he had told Jenny, on the afternoon of the SU Winter Turnabout Ball, his girlfriend and flatmate of the time, Sarah, had him bleached, toned, rollered and dried, and ready for make-up as Marilyn Monroe. With foundation covering all his blemishes, he was ready for eyeshadow, mascara, blush and lipstick. Ooooh, that wonderful rich red lipstick He recalled how the rollers tugged in his hair as they cooled after leaving the hot air of the dryer.
Jenny was patient with him as the thoughts flew through his mind. She smiled at him in the mirror. She wanted to know more about the ball itself. “Get to the bit where you ‘made your entrance’!!” she implored him. Tell me how you looked and felt….!”
But Andy was still deep in the experience of being made-up and combed-out. He wasn’t yet the woman he would be for the whole night. And Sarah had let him look in a mirror.
“When she started, I was a bloke with long hair…. Then, I was a bloke with long blonde hair….. Then, I was a bloke trying on dresses and stiletto-heeled shoes…….. But I was still a bloke! It’s just incredible what a change I felt come over me when I had those rollers in my hair and was having make-up put on my face. I can’t explain it really, but I didn’t feel like a bloke any more.”
He stopped, mid-flow, and thought for a moment. That’s because I wasn’t…. a bloke any more!
“That’s because you weren’t..” Jenny interjected, quietly. She looked at him in a different light.
“No, that’s true……. You understand, don’t you…. It was, like, this woman’s face emerged where mine had been…… A pretty face, almost…. It wasn’t a bloke’s. It was cool – the make-up. Sarah had said that “properly” meant not being excessive with the cosmetics. It meant a “Night time” look but not tarty, not like a Drag artist….. And she did it so well….. I couldn’t believe it.”
Andy was getting a bit breathless at the thoughts – shared with Jenny. He hadn’t thought of this experience in such depth ever since…… He certainly had not intended to open up in this way with Jenny – not this time. His underwear reminded him…. So far – don’t go too far.
“And then she started to take out the rollers from my hair. I remember almost wanting them to stay in for ever…. Can you understand that? I can’t explain it at all, but that’s how I felt.”
“It sounds like a very intense experience, Marilyn…….” Jenny said, crossing the line into taking part in this fantasy recall. Andy was suddenly conscious of feeling very horny indeed. His seated position hid a growing warmth and congestion in his panties. There was a danger that he might cum and that would be a disaster. He had to resist that urge at all costs.
“She took them all out, one-by-one and left them to rest in the shape of the curls that had been formed – and there I sat, with my make-up all done and this tumble of blonde rolls set free around my face….. I could’ve had them left like that – it was a style in itself.” Andy meant it. Many times since then – in salons where he had found space and time, he had asked for a roller set and comb-out, just for the joy of that look in the mirror.
He had planned to tell Jenny about other birthdays in his 20s and how his hair had changed through time. But this story was taking far too long for that. Maybe he’d tell her about that another time. She certainly seemed to be pushing him, whilst finishing his styling with mousse and the hand-dryer. He didn’t pay attention.
“And finally, she combed your hair out?” Jenny asked tentatively, her brush tugging at his hair.
“Oh, yes indeed! She took each roll and made a wonderful curl of it, laying them out before gently brushing it through to make the classic Marilyn style – you know, the side-parting, the flip over the ear, the height at the crown, and the soft under-curls the other side. All in baby blonde….”
“And then you stepped into your halter-neck dress and the stilettos?” Jenny breathed.
“Not before the body stocking and the bra and panties and suspenders and stockings!” Andy joked in mock horror.
“And how did you feel?”
“Like a million dollars!”
The doorbell rang and another client entered Jenny’s salon. The spell was broken. His hair was cut. Jenny had finished. It was time to leave. He looked in the mirror in front of him. His face was framed in what can only be described as a shag style – roughly dried and roughed-up….as if he’d been shagging somebody. He liked it. Quite what Christine would make of it if he kept it that way until she got home, he couldn’t tell. But Andy vowed to tell her more, another time. There was so much to tell. As he walked away, back to his car, he wanted to get home and put on that make-up.
A second visit to the salon – rather sooner than expected.
“Twelve Thirty…… ok, then…. I’ll look forward to seeing you, Andy.”
Jenny was surprised he had called so soon. But he had. The very next day. After his most recent appointment. When he had opened up about his past.
12.30pm was the end of her working day on a Saturday. Jenny liked the afternoon to herself. So, even if the appointment ran over, she would be free say around 1.30pm. He couldn’t need much doing…. He will have only been in three weeks before. What an intriguing man!
Yesterday had ended rather abruptly, she thought; Andy had left so soon after telling her about his Winter Turn-About Ball at Uni. She wanted to know much more about his “Marilyn”……
Perhaps she wouldn’t plan anything definite for that afternoon; three weeks from this coming Saturday.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Andy put the phone down. His heart racing inside his chest. He was breathless.
He had done it…… Not only had he told her his story….
He had now booked another appointment. It would be easier a second time.
To tell her more.
He had gone over and over the previous day’s appointment at Jenny’s salon.
He had loved every minute. Secretly, because his wife was away, he felt guilty.
But then, thinking about it, he had no right to feel that way. It was her choice.
Not to be involved. To tolerate. To know he dressed when she was away.
Christine would be back from her trip in a day or two – in the meantime, Andy could play with make-up and clothes to his heart’s content. Indulge himself.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two days later.
Christine arrived home as planned and he greeted her with passion. They were still good friends as well as occasional lovers. His confidence had never been high and to welcome her home with suggestions that they go and have a good time in bed before anything else was unthinkable A big hug, a long kiss and two cups of tea!
“You look different…” she said. She did notice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Three weeks later
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He sat outside her salon, waiting for Jenny’s last client of the day to leave.
Now, Christine was away again. She wouldn’t notice another haircut.
Saturday was a busy day for Jenny and she was evidently running late.
He had chosen to ring and tell her by phone that he himself would be late.
He apologized but she said not to worry at all.
He was wearing his nice undergarments again. Stockings and suspenders, and chemise. And he had been to M&S and bought himself a new bra and matching panties. He wore a shirt that was of a darker colour – so that his bra straps wouldn’t be visible when Jenny was up-close-and-personal, as she would be for the next hour!
He sat there telling himself again what he had told her.
About Marilyn……. He was Marilyn Monroe at that Turnabout Ball, 40 years ago.
He told her about the halter-neck dress, in its gold satin. And the bodystocking.
And the bra and panties. And the make-up.
And most importantly, about the way his flat-mate Sarah had done his hair.
She had bleached it and toned it to a beautiful baby blonde shade.
She had rollered it and set it, beautifully, in a classic “Marilyn” style.
He had loved it…. But just how much, he hadn’t said. But he would.
In the next hour or so.
He was going to tell her how that Ball had changed his life. Conventional though he looked now.
The last client left, closing the door to the salon with a cheerful wave, “See you soon!”, he heard.
What would Jenny make of him after that? He wondered…….
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Hello again!........ Can I call you Andy?” Jenny said imploringly.
“Of course you can, Jenny; suits me.” Andy responded, secretly overjoyed at this familiarity.
“Well, what can I do for you today?” she asked him.
“Just carry on like we were doing last time – give me a wash and a trim please…”
“Oh, I was hoping to send you blonde all over again!” Jenny exclaimed – there being nobody else in the room to hear her. “You’d obviously enjoyed yourself that first time….”
“Just a wash, now….” Andy looked down, over-come with sudden shyness. Damn!!!
“Hey, I was just joking….” Jenny retracted realizing she might have over-stepped the mark….
“Come on over to the wash basins and we’ll get you gowned-up…..” I was hoping you’d finish off your story that got stopped when you had to leave last time…… About you… And Marilyn….?” Jenny genuinely wanted to know more about Andy and his experience as a teen/twenty year old.
And to find out why he was back in her salon so soon?!
Soon enough, her wish was granted. Once Andy sat in the shampooing chair, with his head laid back in the crescent of porcelain and the water began to flow, he relaxed.
This was heaven!
Jenny ran her fingers through his hair – almost newly-cut. There wouldn’t be much trimming to be done this time. “I’ll get some special conditioner for you…” she said, echoing the treatment he had received from Sarah, all those years ago. She had called it ‘conditioning’ when she bleached his hair that first time...........! She had tricked him that first time.
He said nothing. He shivered……. In excitement.
Re-living that day,… at Sarah’s hands.
“While I do that, you have to tell me more about the night you went as Marilyn.” Jenny implored him. And that was enough. It was as if the floodgates opened. His defences down, he began……
“You must keep this all to yourself, Jenny…..” (Pause) “You must. Because I’ve never told this to another living soul – except those who were at the Ball, of course. I fell into the part I was to play – from the moment I slipped on that beautiful dress…… well, maybe from the time my hair was set just so. Sarah said it would be simple – guys as girls and girls as guys… but she didn’t tell me that we could feel the way I was feeling….. I just spent the whole evening adoring the glamour ………” He paused wondering if he should say what he was thinking……
“….and feeling just so feminine…….. Impossible, I know…… Look at me now…” Andy was almost back there as he spoke, Jenny could tell.
“You mean, the clothes and the make-up and hair made you actually feel you were female???.” Incredulous, she was prepared to believe it… only if she heard some more. “Like, how did this manifest itself?”
“Well, jealousy for a start… I found myself admiring other girls’ dresses, I mean GUYS’ dresses….. . I couldn’t resist imagining myself in theirs. They were in characters, like I was, one was trying to be Doris Day, another one Sophia Loren,,,,, Everyone was different.” Andy’s reminiscences were vivid. “I remember thinking, why didn’t I do more with jewelry.”
“Then there was their hair and make-up…. And then found myself hating them for looking cooler and sexier than I felt…… Just one or two of them. Some were awful! ….Just those two. (His mind wandered back – two guys had done almost as good a job in dressing as he had.)
And there were girls there as girls….. But it was those dressed as guys that had style that I really admired…….. Those I really did get jealous about. - their clothes.... I do remember there was one girl who had the best and most beautiful figure – lovely tits, just big enough to be beautiful… not too big, and they were served up on a most wonderful platform brassiere that showed them off to perfection….. all surrounded by pink and white lace, just covering her nipples. She wore a man’s suit with the pink and white lace blouse revealing everything…… I just wanted to have them…. Not like to eat – like a guy – but to literally have them for myself, for my own….. My tits that night were just packed cotton wool. Although, I have to admit, mine looked good peeking out from the halter neckline.”
Andy paused again….. Almost shocked at the way he had lost his previous inhibitions.
While he talked, Jenny washed away the conditioning treatment and towel-dried Andy’s hair.
“She sounds good enough for anyone to eat!” exclaimed Jenny.
Jenny hadn’t been prepared for such openness so soon in the conversation…. She had only just washed his hair and Andy was describing deep deep emotions about a long-ago event. She was quietly stunned. Hairdressers hear lots of things in confidence, but…… No client had ever disclosed such things to her before. Some had secrets she now shared, but this…..????!!!!!!
Andy’s thoughts focused on the girl with the man’s suit, the pink blouse and the big tits. “Well, I made sure that we exchanged numbers before we left the Ball…”
“And did you get to meet her again??”
“Nah, she proved to be a huge cock-tease, nothing more.
“So, what happened after the Ball? – to you and Sarah?” Jenny enquired, wondering if Sarah and Andy had survived in a relationship.
“We went home that evening – to the flat in the house we shared….. and we fucked as woman and man – still in roles for the Ball. She had a toy that we played with.” Andy laughed at the thought.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Andy had now moved from the shampooing basin to Jenny’s styling chair, the talk had moved on to Sarah and how their relationship changed after the Ball. It was clear to Jenny that the Winter turnaround had been deeply moving for him and that Andy would have been a changed man after his night as “Marilyn”. He had so loved that dress…… And those shoes! ……And he had so loved the hair!
Jenny took time to assess this man who was now in her care….. She felt she could do whatever she wanted with him. He was vulnerable, but so willingly so! She was determined, in that instant, not to take advantage of his vulnerability. That didn’t mean not encouraging him to go further with these disclosures…. About feelings as much as what had happened..
“Did you stay as lovers after that?” she asked him, expecting a positive answer. “Did you want to? I mean, was she your first, your last, your everything?!”
“Well, in a way, we did… I guess….. Stay together. It was a big house we shared so if you’re asking did we move in together, the answer’s no, we stayed separate….. and yes, we did screw from time-to-time but we both had other friends in the house, and elsewhere in Uni. In our class and subject groupings. We are talking more than thirty years ago – this was all new to us… and everyone was keen to explore….”
“Where did it lead you…. Next?” Jenny asked, thinking that Andy’s experiences hadn’t followed on from the Ball…….
“Best thing of all was the halter-neck dress – I paid the penalty for non-returning to the hire shop and kept it. Said it had been ruined by drinks going over it…… But I kept it to wear.” Andy admitted. “I did say, don’t tell anyone, didn’t I? You won’t will you?”
“Who would I possibly tell?” Jenny said – almost as a whisper.
“Well, Sarah and me, we were always close…. Didn’t stop us having rows of course….. Like the month after the Ball….. we had a real up-and-downer….. She got really intense about me and the roots in my hair that were showing dark…. Well, within a few days, they showed. And she was insistent that they were cool and I should let them grow out – let them show…… I’d already made it clear that being blonde was cool and I wanted to stay so…… She went off on a ‘bender’ about how the roots would be how I should wear my hair….”
“Leave the blonde, and show the roots?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah. This was before Debbie Harry made it cool to look trashy. When I said I was going to get them done – the roots, bleached again – by somebody else if she wouldn’t do them for me – she nearly blew a gasket. She wanted to be in control, I guess. She wanted my hair to be ‘her creation’ and wouldn’t have anybody else meddling with it.”
Andy thought how his student lodgings were a place for all sorts of late-60s partying with pills and wacky-baccy to get high on. This had led to some wild wild nights, many of which found him dressed again. He got to be known for his party dresses and vivid make-up. Most often it was Sarah that helped him, but there were others as time passed by. Most ended in the sack with Andy at the end of the evenings.
“So, you stayed blonde?”
“Naturally!”… Or at least, very Unnaturally!”
“And did Sarah do your roots for you? ….or did you go elsewhere to get them done?”
“No, in the end, Sarah did them – kept in control, I guess….. She insisted on choosing the shade of toner I would wear…… And she insisted we change that regularly. After that, she did my roots every ten days or so… People got used to me as a blonde…… They only noticed when Sarah got a bit carried away with her toner selection…… Then, they did comment…. Steely- blue-grey, Strawberry and pure Ash blonde were noticed!” I was blonde for months and I can claim to have been living proof that “Blondes do have more fun!” Sarah wasn’t the only girl to be keen on my look – I was in heaven really.”
Jenny looked into the mirror. Into Andy’s eyes. She delved deep into the soul of this attractive greying man who sat in her salon chair, now it seemed, totally dis-inhibited.
“And what about your clothes? You kept the dress….. Did you keep anything else? And did you buy anything else???”
Jenny was pushing now for an admission which she almost knew now she was going to get – this guy had learnt about cross-dressing and was enjoying it by then.
She combed his towel-dry hair this way and that, toying with it as her scissors took tiny lengths of hair from all around his crown. She could picture him now – as a blonde – wearing that gold satin halter-neck dress, pouting like Marilyn Monroe, with luscious red lips…..
“I didn’t get any more clothes of my own then – it was tough being a student and there wasn’t much money left after beer and take-away Indian or Chinese meals………… On party nights I was able to borrow party clothes from two or three of the other girls about the house. Luckily, they were similar in size to me – a size 14 did me fine. I had kept the underwear from the Ball so that made me comfortable………. Didn’t make me show myself off at all – this was a kind of house where you’d get a name as a bore if you didn’t lighten up most times….. So I kept myself to my own room and, when Sarah came, she indulged me.
“So you were a blonde for your next birthday - how old were you then?”
“Twenty one. I stayed so until the Ball the next year…..”
“What happened then? Was it the same format??” Jenny asked, feigning excitement.
“It was….. and Sarah and me had another argument……. “
“Oh, a whole lot of things….. I suppose we’d been almost an item but not an item for too long. She wanted to do me as Marilyn again, and I thought that was last year… I wanted something fresh. She didn’t think I should spend money on clothes… I had an evening bar job and felt it wasn’t her business…..” She wanted me to stay blonde, I was bored with it. Andy sighed, deeply.
“It did get a bit heavy. Pity really.” He regretted the inevitable split in the relationship with Sarah that followed. “I had a great time with her. I’m sad I didn’t last longer. But we both seemed to be moving on. She was going to leave the college and do a practical year in her work - then she wanted to move to London. Which I couldn’t do – I still had a year at Uni. left to complete.”
Jenny found herself with her hands on Andy’s shoulders. She had finished the tiny amount of trimming she had been able to do on his hair. She had brushed his neck to remove the stray strands of hair. She had dried his hair lightly with a blow-dryer and curling brush, folding the longer strands of hair under to smooth the finish. And she had put the brush and dryer down to reach for the mirror, so she could show Andy her handiwork. But her hands were on his shoulders.
His eyes met hers in the mirror. Conscious of his bra straps being just one fold of fabric away from Jenny’s finger-light touch. He shivered with excitement but only smiled into the mirror.
It was electric.
In that moment. Something changed between them.
But neither would say anything.
After all, she’s twenty years younger than me. He thought. After all, he’s a customer, a stranger, and he’s that much older than me. She thought. Jenny didn’t feel the bra straps as Andy expected she would She didn’t need to.
“So, there you were, all ready to go to the Ball with nobody to dress you…. Sounds like Cinderella!” Jenny felt able to make a mocking jibe like that, in a very good-natured way, because she felt now that she knew this guy quite well…… In a short time, she had seen inside his long-ago “Twenty-something” head.
“What was it the girls said to Julia Roberts in ‘Pretty Woman’….. Cinder..Fucking..Rella!?? Yeah, that’s just how I must’ve felt at the time. She wouldn’t dress me, and she wouldn’t do my hair any different…….” Andy was really regretting the break-up with Sarah that followed.
“Well, what could I do? I was angry and I had nobody to do what I wanted doing…. So, I went out and blew a week’s wages on having my hair coloured and set, and I blew another week’s wages on a new dress that would go well at the Ball. Actually, that was two weeks’ wages!”
Jenny understood very easily the conundrum that Andy had faced. He could, of course, have given up on the whole idea and not even gone to the Ball. He could have sulked and stayed home. But something deep inside him had told him “no – you want this, so go and get it!” So he had gone out and got it…….. from complete strangers. That took courage in a way…. but may have been easier because of “no come-back”. What a man!!
“So you wanted a new look….. What was that? And who did you get to create it for you?..... Or did you try to create it yourself?” Jenny could envisage any one of these scenarios. Her hands still rested on his shoulders, but her work on his hair was finished.
Andy smiled….. “Trying myself wasn’t an option – it all had to be done in the day of the Ball…. And my skills with mascara and foundation and lipstick and eyeliner and eyeshadow were crap! And there was nobody else in the house who’d help. So it was up to me to find a salon, or two salons – one for hair and one for make-up. It was tricky approaching strangers but then I reasoned, it’s their job so why would they have a problem? Just because I was a guy….. And I explained about the ball – which was true….. I can’t have been the only one…. But maybe the only one to look quite so good!”
He flashed his eyes at Jenny in mock flirtation.
“I’d have loved the challenge….. How did you choose which salons to go to?” Jenny said, with genuine interest. She also meant that she would have loved to have been Andy’s first salon stylist.
“Simple really, I chose a salon in a quiet part of town – University cities have many back-lanes and quiet places. You get to know them. When you want a quiet pub or a shop that’s not on the High Street… So, I summoned up some guts and just waded into a little salon, not unlike your one here. It had a nail and beauty bar next door which was owned by the same girl, I guessed. Big deep breath, and in I went.”
“Did she know about the annual Ball for the Uni?”
“She did –and she said she’d had other customers too so “what did I want?” Like, nothing fazed her, so I just rolled out a list of things I wanted to create a different look – not Marilyn. She was behind me. I wanted big hair – this is the Seventies remember – and I wanted glam make-up. She could choose how she styled me. The biggest change was that I wanted to be a blonde no longer…. I wanted to be a Redhead… really a firey redhead!”
“But weren’t you a beautiful blonde at the time?”
Jenny found this hard to believe.
“Yeah, but I’d been blonde for nearly a year. My hair was three inches longer. I’d been every shade of blonde you could imagine. I wanted to be different – almost so different people wouldn’t recognize me at the Ball.”
“Why Red??” she asked, intrigued.
“Redheads are sexier!” … at least he was honest. What better reason?
Andy shifted in Jenny’s styling chair and his underwear came back into consciousness. His stockings were still tight and clung to his skin. His suspenders dug into his thighs a little – no pain, no gain! – His chemise was cool against his skin and the panties… well, the lace was gorgeous…..
Jenny’s hands slipped from his shoulders. She was suddenly conscious that they shouldn’t be there.
“My hair was chin length by this time, or slightly longer, and I wanted it in a more wavy style. I’d been a bob-styled head to long enough. And she did as I asked. The set was on large rollers but very tightly wound and very much saturated with styling lotion. I ended up CURLY!”
“And the make-up?
“Jenny, you’d not think to look at me now, but I really got given the look of the Seventies – Dallas-like! Long talons for finger-nails, fake lashes and loads of mascara. Lipstick to die for – long-lasting… lasted until the following morning I have to say!”
“And what clothes did you choose?”
“Dallas!! Shoulder pads and very tightly-waisted. The most expensive thing I bought was the waspie corset. I found it in an Oxfam store. It cost me three quid, that’s all! To give me a waist. Nobody recognised me at the ball! I loved it – every minute of it, all night! The question was what would I do the following day? People had gotten used to me as a blonde. Now I’d gone missing. Then this Redhead turns up. That’s a story worth telling.”
Jenny’s hands rested back on Andy’s shoulders. She looked at him in the mirror.
“To look at you now….. I’d never have guessed! Do you want another appointment?”
A third visit to the salon is arranged – with what on the agenda?
That Saturday appointment – with just the two of them left in the salon – was to be repeated. Last time, Jenny had asked him if he wanted another booking. Of course, he did! But he waited until next day to phone. This time, his reaction was immediate. Jenny was delighted.
His story had drawn her in and locked the door… Jenny had to know more. Andy wished he could lock the door and stay in the salon all day. But that second visit had to end.
She knew that he had fought with Sarah, over his hair and clothes how he should look. She had wanted him to do the “Marilyn” thing again for a second annual Turnabout Ball at Uni. Andy had wanted to move on. And yet, she had wanted him to let his roots grow through his baby blonde curls. He wanted now to be a Redhead – and had gone and got himself “done”. He had bought “Dallas” style clothes – ok, from a second-hand store, but they were the epitome of 70’s/80’s glamour. He had bought a waspie corset……. To savagely tighten his waist. And more shoes!
She knew all of that. The third appointment was set for another two weeks’ time. Three visits to the hairdressers in five weeks! Andy was loving this. Even at his age and stage, he was excited. He found it so easy to talk to Jenny. She was a brilliant listener.
His wife Christine would be home the chosen Saturday so he needed and excuse to absent himself from home. He would be going to get some DIY stuff……
He thought about her as he made a coffee. How much he had wished, so many times, that she would relent in her aversion to his dressing. It was harmless, after all. He had been clumsy when he tried to involve her in his little dressing game. She reacted immediately and badly. Big mistake! Such a shame…. Their marriage had changed because he had been so unthinking as to think that she would want to make love with a woman….. or a bloke dressed as a woman….. Clumsy, he had been – and now he paid the price, every time.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Andy sat outside Jenny’s salon in his car again – a quick visit to the DIY store would support his alibi. He’d say he had stopped at the pub and got talking too….. Enough for an extra hour, maybe 90 minutes. That wouldn’t be unusual. Christine would be busy. She wouldn’t worry if he took all day, probably.
The final customer of Jenny’s morning left – he’d seen her before – obviously a regular. Big woman, with big hair!
He locked the car and walked across the parking area, conscious of his heart rate rising. His breath was shortening too. Raw excitement. He put his hand on the door handle. And in he went.
“Well, hello to you…. Andy, isn’t it?” “It is, indeed.”
“A trim….. again?” Jenny said, teasingly. Her smile was welcoming. “It’s great to have you back…. You qualify as a regular now!”
“And what does that mean?” Andy enquired.
“Oh, unlimited time – if time allows….. And today, you’re in luck…… It does!”
“I’d love to stay all day, but sadly, I have to be home by Two – 2.00pm, only an hour away – but I’d like to take you up on that another time.” Andy said, apologetically.
Jenny was disappointed and didn’t mind letting her disappointment show. She frowned.
“I’m really sorry, honest, I am…… I‘ll book to come back….” Andy said, falteringly.
“Maybe a late evening then?” Jenny suggested. How could he refuse? “No pressure then!”
“I’d love that.” Andy paused. “…Really, I would.” he said, meaningfully.
“Then come to the shampoo basins. I can’t trim dry hair as well as when it’s all wet and pliable.” Jenny tugged at the hair on this head, now resting in the basin’s neck shape. She tugged it a little more and ran her fingers through it before turning on the water.
The underwear he had slipped into this morning was suddenly in Andy’s consciousness again. His wife would probably kill him if she knew. But then, there was a secret challenge in that – getting away with it. It was her choice really, he thought to himself. If only she hadn’t reacted so badly…… He’d promised never to do such a thing again. But she knew he did – she must have – it didn’t make it any better but……
Jenny over-rode his thoughts……. “When I’ve trimmed your hair, will you tell me more about the Ball you went to as a Redhead? Please……. It was a pity you had to stop last time….”
Andy, leaning back in the shampoo chair, looked into her eyes. His stockings and suspenders were stretched and the bra straps taught beneath his shirt. The shampooing took less time today.
“Not lots to tell really, about the second Ball, I mean. I was on my own this time- though I was among friends and people who I knew. We had a great time, dancing like girls did in those days – round handbags on the floor. Then I got asked for a dance by a couple of really cool girls in “Dude-suits”, you know….. pin-stripe jackets and trousers. Tight blouses and plain make-up… Big contrasts to the guys like me dressed up to the “Nines”……. One of the girls asked me if “he” could walk me home and I couldn’t refuse. The role reversal thing really took hold that night….”
Andy smiled at the memory…. As he walked to the styling chair and sat before the mirror.
Jenny combed and snicked away with her scissors, taking only tiny strands at a time, this time.
“Did “he” kiss you?” asked Jenny.
She combed his hair vigorously against its natural way of lying.
“Very much so – she…sorry, he… took the lead just as supposed ……. I’d never been French-kissed like I was then….. I’d done it lots but never had someone take control. “Tonsil Tennis” it was called when we talked about it in the days after….”
Jenny was thinking about Andy’s hair all through the conversation.
“So, the Redhead met “her” match… Did you see eachother again?” she asked, expecting a “yes”.
“Yeah, in fact, we went out together for quite a while. I reverted to my ponytail and guys’ clothes as you’d expect and we made a good couple.”
He reflected for a moment – that was true; they were a really good couple.
“She was studying for a PhD in Psychology so was at least three years older than me….. I did wonder, quite often, if she was secretly psycho-analyzing me…but I guessed not in the end.”
“How so? What convinced you?” asked Jenny.
“Well, she never probed into how much I had obviously enjoyed that second ball…. But I had no reason to expect she would – I never probed her about wearing guys’ clothes the same night either. People do write whole PhD theses on such subjects…!”
Jenny was near enough finished with the haircut. But only a tiny dusting of trimmings surrounded the styling chair where Andy now sat..
“Did you love her?”
“Well, that’s too strong a word ……. I fancied her tremendously, if that’s what you mean.”
“I guess that’s enough. What attracted you to her?” Jenny wanted to know. She needed to know what turned this guy on.
“Her dress sense, I guess – she could make really ordinary clothes look fabulous – she just had style. And then there was her sense of humour. Really sexy..” Andy smiled once more.
“And her looks?” Jenny still couldn’t picture this girl.
“Tall, bobbed hair, brown, big eyes – lovely big eyes. Slim. Tiny waist. Suited the suit.”
“And her name?” He still hadn’t named this one.
“Bobbie” Crazy really – Jenny was too young to remember the song “I wanna be Bobby’s girl”
Andy thought… In that case Bobby was a guy…… In his case, he wanted to be Bobbie’s girl and Bobbie was a girl!
Jenny had finished Andy’s hair and was using the blow-dryer to finish off. She took a handful of styling mousse and, before he could say anything, smothered his grey.hair with it. She took her brush and, again, brushed his hair against the natural way it would lay. Spikey!
“You could look cool with a modern style like this….” Jenny said, playfully.
His bra straps tightened as he took a sharp intake of breath.
“No, no, er, ….no, I don’t really….” Andy stammered, knowing that he had to be home soon.
“Why ever not!” Jenny exclaimed. “It would be cool……. You could even be a Redhead again. Really. …….I have some really stunning temporary colours in my selection of mousses. Shall we try some??”
Had she gone too far? She wondered
Their eyes met in the mirror. She knew. He knew she knew….. He wanted to do that……
But he couldn’t. …He didn’t dare. Time was too short. He had to be home in less than twenty minutes. It was bad enough having mousse where there was no mousse when he left home.
How would he explain that??!
“You really are special.” Andy murmured, “But no, really, we can’t….. Not this time.”
“Next time……?!” Jenny went for the “kill”
“Will you let me… next time…. Next time you come into my salon,,,,,,,, Wearing your clothes?”
She knew! Now he knew she knew…. Of course, she would have known…… Andy near panicked.
His heart nearly stopped beating.
enny’s hands had slipped to his shoulders again, the residue of the mousse sat on one side. That could be a dead give-away when he got home, he thought.
“I want to help you recall everything about those days.” Her eyes transfixed his in the mirror. “You will come back, won’t you?”
She meant it. This wasn’t just an invitation to come back – like before.
It was an instruction.
Andy had gone home last time with his hair trimmed and played with by Jenny. After the shock of her styling him “spikey”, they had laughed out loud. He enjoyed her company. Even at his age, he found himself fancying her to pieces! She was lovely. Clearly at ease with herself. No longer married, she was a free spirit. In control of her own little business. Good with people. Fun to be with and, it was proving to be, quietly understanding of the story about himself that she was encouraging him to tell.
He wasn’t spikey when he left the salon, although the stiffness of the styling mousse had left his hair quite different to touch and to look at. But it didn’t matter. When he got home minutes later. His wife hadn’t noticed. Nor had she noticed him go upstairs and change his clothes……. Removing the underwear that he so loved. She had swallowed the idea of his going to the DIY store and meeting a friend who said they should have a beer together.
He carefully laid the clothes he had worn into the dark recesses of his wardrobe, where the sun never shone! He always put his own clothes away, even when freshly laundered.
He was confident that he wouldn’t have them discovered.
Even if his wife thought he had a stash of such things.
Even if she perhaps knew his fetish hadn’t been forgotten.
Even if he ran the risk of discovery.
He was himself…….. and occasionally, herself!
When could he go back to see Jenny? His diary had been at home, so he was unaware of when his wife would be away again – on one of her “girly” weekends.
That would be when he would go back………….
Jenny thought for a long time after Andy had left last time. She had really enjoyed the time… short and playful though it was.
Yes, it had been in a way she couldn’t describe, or have foreseen, or have expected.
She recalled the touch on his shoulders – several times – and his reaction. He was such a nice guy. There was something special…….. And he could talk.. even more than she herself did!
“So what if he’s different?” she said out loud, ….to her mirror.
“So what if I was a bit pushy?”
“So what if he didn’t say yes or no?” (Which he hadn’t.)
“So what if we didn’t fix another appointment?”
“So what if he doesn’t call back?..... if I scared him off” she said, sitting down, still transfixed by her own image in the mirror. “I hope you didn’t!!!” cried the mirror’s image.
What Jenny experienced was a mystery to her. She wanted this nice, seemingly gentle guy to become a friend…. And yet she had been tempted to push him further and faster than he might have wished to explore the past feelings he had.
She thought for a long time. He’s a genuinely nice guy. He’s married and happily involved in a secret passion that’s been with him since University days. He keeps it secret. He’s too old to turn about more than in his mind’s eye. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. If I can help him, what could be better?
“Getting serious!” she smiled to the mirror.
Andy did call. His next appointment, and sadly not just another a week or two later, had to be in the middle of the day…….. A month later because he would have been travelling on business and had not been near the salon at convenient times.
And it had not gone according to plan – for either him, or for Jenny.
The salon had been busy.
There were women everywhere. Even though it was a tiny salon, the place seemed full of people. Rollers, Foils, Bleaching, Backcombing. Hot air blowers. Any conversation would be overheard. Not ideal at all. Disappointing. So Andy asked for the same style of cut and the same – very slight – amount of cut.
He left with his hair quite a bit longer than was usual nowadays.
The conversation was perfunctory. Shallow. About nothing in particular. How were her horses? How was business? How was his work? How did “that DIY” go? He couldn’t say, not in the crowded room. There may only have been six people in there… but that was four too many!
“Please come back again, Sir!” said Jenny as he left, paying for his wash, cut and blow-dry….... He gave her a healthy tip and smiled.
“Perhaps at a different time of day?” Andy said, both expectantly and hopefully. He got the response he wanted.
“Oh, I do agree. Saturday afternoon worked well…. Or perhaps last appointment on a Thursday?”
And he was gone. He would call.
So, it would be the last appointment on a Thursday. When his wife was away for the night in London, with her girly friends. Going to see ‘Calendar Girls’ on the stage. OK, he’d gone with her to the film. It was ok. But she wanted time with her girlfriends. Nice dinner. Chat… loads of Chat, none of which any husband or partner would understand.
When he called, Jenny answered. It had been two weeks and she had those conversations with the mirror several times. But he called. She was delighted. He could tell from her voice.
“What time’s your last booking?” Andy asked. “I can do any time…”
Jenny thought. How long to finish the woman who’d be the last in before him. She was a high maintenance client. She would be having roots tinted, a cut and a set. It was the set that would take the time…… Maybe she could be convinced to have a blow-dry….. for a change….. with loads of lacquer!
“I’ll be free around 5.30….. maybe fifteen minutes later…… Or earlier if I can!” Jenny said, as if anticipating a problem.
“No problem at all. I’ll be there for 5.45 then…..” Andy paused….
“How long might this take?” he asked…… meaning ‘more than just a cut’.
“Well, it does depend, on lots of things. But I’d say an hour or maybe longer.” Jenny was hopeful.
She thought she knew what he meant. He meant what she’d said about colour.
She thought it would take at least that long, if she played around with his style as well.
She realized that she didn’t know his name, beyond “Andy”.
She reflected on the booking, there in front of her mirror. She should treat it as a simple wash and cut, l ike before. She would continue the conversation, just asking him about the past.
She wanted to ask. What was this lady with the PhD like, who was older than him. What did they do together. Did he consider them to be ‘an item’ at any time. Did his first girlfriend ever come back into the frame. Not too many questions, or he’d clam up. She was sure of that.
She wanted to get inside his head. How did he really feel about his exploits with his hair and with ‘turnabout’ parties. How did his friends get used to his different looks?
Jenny had never had a customer like Andy.
K, sure, she had dressed the hair of guys who were “going to a party” when she was sure they were doing nothing of the sort. OK, she knew that – in the Seventies – there was a lot of ‘gender-bending’ that people enjoyed as a natural thing to experiment with. That was all before the world started classifying people as “gay”, or “not gay”, it seemed. There was almost something wrong with you if you were NOT homosexual.
Andy clearly wasn’t.
Jenny liked him.
Andy put the phone down, his heart racing as before. He had made the appointment.
He would be free for the Thursday night and the whole of Friday. His wife would be home late the following day, having stayed over in town. The whole of Friday too!
He spent much of the next hour in deep concentration, putting aside how the Thursday would pan out. He had a job to finish. He ran his hand through his hair, repeatedly but absent-mindedly. Not thinking. He would wash it tonight, and just imagine what Jenny might do with it.
His mind tripped into “what to wear” mode and he thought of the few things he had kept – apart from the underwear that he so loved and kept refreshing. That halter neckline was always just too over the top – he hadn’t needed to shave his chest to carry it off all those years ago, but he most certainly would now. Then there was the “Dallas” ensemble that was “OTT” in another way – not revealing, but skin-tight and glammy. Trouble with that was how much weight he’d put on. Even with the ‘Bodyshaper’ he’d bought from M&S and which held him in quite well…..
He thought. He needed new clothes! He decided to select the right underwear for now.
Two weeks to go! Trepidation! …… What would the salon visit bring……??!
Maybe, just maybe, he would buy some new underwear……?!!
He did. Buy new underwear. Beautiful lacy panties and a bra to match – one with underwiring to squeeze what he had into shape. And suspenders, with a pair of firm control stockings that would give shape and shine to his legs. They would be hidden under his outer clothes, but that didn’t matter at all. He knew they were there. He could feel them.
Reluctantly, he decided not to wear – or even buy – any girly outer clothes.
There was a real danger this whole experience would run away with him if he wasn’t careful!
On the Thursday in question, he kissed his wife goodbye at the station – and off she went to gather with her three friends. Four of them would be on the London train at pre-breakfast time.
Five hours – all for the theatre and a night out. He could do without Calendar Girls. And he could do well with the time alone!
As he left the station, he drove back to the village with his mind racing ahead of time.
It wasn’t even breakfast time yet…… He would have a bath and he would spend time doing anything but DIY all day. He would walk for a while, taking in the cliff-top views and the hazy sunshine. He’d be thinking about the evening to come…… Maybe, just maybe, he would rustle though his wife’s skirts and tops to find something comfortable for the daytime. He wouldn’t wear those to the salon…… He couldn’t……
An hour tonight! Or at least an hour or maybe more, with Jenny in the little salon down in the village. He couldn’t wait.. but he had to!
The day passed slowly. His mind wandered back to Uni days then to other times he had yet to tell Jenny about. There was lots he could – he just felt he could – tell her.
Four O’Clock……. Then Four thirty came round, then it was time to prepare. He had his undies on. He’d had his bath this morning. He shaved as close as he possibly could, leaving clear skin. Today was already one of the best of his life. The anticipation was overwhelming. He did feminine things that he rarely could think about doing, let alone do!
Did he dare wear foundation, and maybe lipstick?
No, he couldn’t do that.
He’d love to, but he couldn’t…… The undies would be superb…and, like before, enough!
Five O’Clock came round, and Andy looked at the clock nervously. Jenny would be busy – she wouldn’t be thinking about him……
How wrong he was…….
Jenny had the roots of the woman, who was her last client before Andy, pasted with tint. She was running behind…. This was going to take longer than she planned… . Especially if she wanted a roller set – That would take them past Six O’Clock……
“I do think your hair would look super if you’d let me blow-dry it and style it the way you’ve described….. You might be able to take care of it yourself if I did…. Well, just sometimes…. You know…. Freshen up your look before going out?” Jenny asked the woman, almost imploring her to agree……. But she wouldn’t hear of it.
“No, no, Jenny. You’re much too good as a stylist for me to compete…. Anyway, I just love sitting back and enjoying your work!” broadly smiling, “Mrs. Bouffant” said. So, rollers it had to be. When the tint was washed out, the rollers we started. Jenny worked like a demon to get them in and get “Mrs. Bouffant” under the dome dryer. Heat full on! She gave the woman lots of extra roly-poly curls to make it seem good value! It was now Five minutes to Six.
But this meant that, whilst she was doing that, Andy came into the salon.
Jenny said, not knowing she was about to make a joke at her client’s expense…… “Sit down, Sir. Please, …make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in a little while but “Mrs. Bouffant” here has a special occasion to go to!” Mrs. Bouffant couldn’t hear a thing under that dryer on full blast.
Mrs. Bouffant would have laughed like a drain! Soon, she was out from under the hood. Jenny worked fast to remove all the rollers . She combed the mass of curls through and began to back-comb the style into shape. It was going to be “big!” Andy could tell. He studied the woman for a while, She was probably around his own age. She was dressed in a very modern way, almost funky…. Her dress was vivid in colour and covered her shoulders. It was flattering to her “ample” bodywork. A size 18 at least. She was really enjoying the experience she so frequently was given at Jenny’s. Clearly, she liked to be pampered.
Andy smiled and studied her hairstyle… It was certainly a work of art!
He had always liked elaborate styles…. He reflected again on how he came to be there. He had dared to venture out in beautiful underwear. He had dared to steer the conversation with Jenny towards his college-day flirtation with dressing. He had dared to go back to her salon. His dreams were becoming reality…. If only in such a limited way. He was loving every minute. His thoughts turned to an eventual time, he hoped, when he would go out fully dressed, perhaps for a two-girls dinner in a quiet restaurant….. with Jenny.
It would be far more likely to happen with her than it ever would have with Christine. How sad it made him to think again of how clumsy he had been when he ventured to suggest that he might dress with her help. Christine had over-reacted, he felt, but on reflection, it was understandable. She had married a guy…. She didn’t want to be married to a man part-time, and a woman part-time……. So she had shut him out. Her sex life didn’t include him. She was probably getting her tricks elsewhere……. With who, he wondered……..
He sat and watched, without saying a word. Jenny occasionally looked in his direction, only to find him exploring the books of hairstyles from the coffee table.
Eventually, Mrs. Bouffant was done, had paid and was gone. He and Jenny were alone.
There was a moment’s silence and Andy felt he had to break the ground before them. Summoning up some courage, he said…
“Jenny, thank you for suggesting the end of the day. Last time I was in, it was just like bedlam in here. You must live your life like that….. It’s much better for me to be here now… I enjoy talking with you so much, it’s best like this…………..”
Jenny smiled and said: “Well, we can take as long as you like this evening. Shall we begin with a wash?” She noticed the peeking of a stocking between his socks and trousers. She looked more closely at the outline of his shirt, noticing that there were give-away lines that betrayed the bra that lay snugly beneath.
Andy had spent much of the day in a skirt and blouse of his wife’s, through which his bra could be seen with ease… If anyone cared to look. But he had been alone. Feeling comfortable. The stockings and suspenders, bra and panties remained, but otherwise, he was in “boy gear”.
“I’ll just close the door.” Jenny said, reassuringly. She turned the key in the lock.
Andy’s heart skipped a beat. Sixty years of age – what had he gotten into?!
“I’m delighted that you decided to come back, Andy” Jenny whispered, spoof-Stage-style with a finger over her lips. “We can enjoy ourselves a little, unlike when the place is so busy…”
Andy thought “Perhaps I should’ve dared to wear some make-up” but said nothing for a moment.
Then, “You make the place feel so welcoming.. I mean, not just for me, but for everyone.”
“Well, I do try, but it’s not as if I have to work at it…. I just like people coming in through that little door. They’re all so different……” Jenny was genuine in what she said. “Take you and the lovely Mrs. Bouffant, as I called her…… You couldn’t be more different…….”
“Perhaps on the outside…” Andy ventured and then stopped……..
“How so?” Jenny asked, almost reading his mind…….
“Well, she’s a lady, I’m a man……… But, er….. um… well…. There are, er… things inside us that are similar….. Like she wants to look good…. And, er.. to make herself something more than she is.. if you, er….see what I mean……” Overcome by nerves.. from nowhere…. Andy stopped.
WHY was he hesitating, almost stammering…… where had these nerves come from???!!
“Hey, hey…. Take it easy…” Jenny interrupted. “…. Don’t be stressed… It’s ok, really it is….. Let’s take a few minutes…. Sit back down…. Tell me about your time since you were here…..” She wanted to calm him down – to divert his attention. “I’ll make you a coffee……”
Andy drew a deep breath and sat back down where he had been looking st the styling books. Recovering his composure took longer than he thought…. He said nothing for a while as Jenny made the coffee. He just sat fumbling with the styling books, not really looking at them, more occupying his hands….
Jenny came over and sat beside him and talked as if nothing had happened.
“There now, two coffees. How’s your week been this week? What have you been doing?” She went on and the conversation slowly opened up. Andy was conscious again that he was sitting here dressed in beautiful women’s underwear, talking with a gorgeous woman who was about to ‘do’ his hair….. How she would ‘do’ it, he wasn’t sure – would he have any choice? Probably so, but what choices to make? Andy sipped his coffee as they talked until Jenny decided it was time and that Andy was ready, to move on.
“Now, last time you were here, we just did you a trim and a wash, didn’t we? I got the distinct feeling that you were wanting me to do some more, but the place was too busy. Am I right?”
“Well, yes, you are…….” Andy replied.
“And we’d talked about your early days, hadn’t we, when you were changing your hair quite a lot, weren’t you?”
“Well, yes, you’re right….”
“And you had the chance to enjoy special parties, shall we say, dressed differently?”
“Andy, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Jenny smiled, one of her “winning” smiles.
“You guessed”….” Andy laughed, relaxing for the first time since arriving.
“I couldn’t avoid guessing!....... How could I not? The way you talked….. And you were a blonde for a whole year and then went on to be a Redhead……… Why did you choose to change?” He had never explained….
“Oh, simple really, I’d got bored – even though Sarah had changed the colour quite often, I was bored with it, and everyone around me kind of accepted that was ‘me’ – so I wanted to change the ‘me’ they saw. Bit of a shock tactic, I guess. And then there was the argument about my roots and Sarah wanting me to wear them.. like a fashion statement. I’d always been phobic about them.. She knew that… I had her bleach the roots every two weeks…… “
“But that doesn’t explain why Red??” Jenny asked.
“Better Red than dead! I suppose” laughed Andy. “No, I’d always loved Redheads through my teens and being blonde hadn’t been my choice – Sarah had pulled that surprise on me… But we kept my hair blonde as it had the “wow” factor, I guess….”
“So, Red was your first love?”
“Indeed it was……… Red hair is sexy – d’you know what I mean……. About that time, I do remember, there was a programme on telly, called “Rock Follies” and I fell in love with Rula Lenska, the Redhead in the show. She was gorgeous – still is, though you don’t see her much….. Beautiful red hair in a riot of curls….. Stunning!”
“I see,…. Andy, it’s time to think about you…. You were looking in the styling books here,…”
Jenny said, picking one up. “….. ….. Do you see any styles here you remember … any that were really attractive?.......” She placed the book firmly in his hands and sat back, saying nothing more.
She wanted him to engage with the whole spectrum of women’s hairstyles that were in the book…
Andy thumbed through the pages, very slowly, admiring several styles but saying nothing.
Jenny watched, closely, seeing which styles he paused upon, and which he passed over quickly. Andy clearly only had time for styles with long hair. Some perfectly smooth and straight, some with lustrous curls flowing, some with tighter formal ‘dressing’ and some attractive ‘up-dos’. None, it seemed were short. Femininity, for him it seemed, was coupled with long hair.
All of which made Jenny certain that the ‘ little surprise’ she had waiting for Andy would be right. He hadn’t had long hair for ages and ages. Tonight, he could have it if he wanted.
“You haven’t chosen any….” she said, pushing him just a little.
“There are too many…” Andy replied quite wistfully. He loved too many of them.
“OK, narrow them down then… Just look at this section – for Redheads…….” Jenny folded the book to reveal where, among sections for every hair colour, Redheads were clustered together… “Just choose me three…. So I really know what you like….”
Andy was deep in concentration now… loving every minute. He looked up and just said “You’re very special, you know that…” She laid her hand on his, on the styling book, and smiled. She knew he was in her hands, totally.
After a minute or two, he said, “There…. Three…… The first is this one,….” He had chosen a fabulous auburn pageboy Bob, with sleek sides and a full fringe, raised at the crown with light back-brushing.
“Second, this one…” A beautiful arrangement of burgundy-coloured curls, large ones, with some lighter highlights. The curls were those that stood up all around the model’s head by two or three inches, evidently “set” but inviting hands to be run through.
“Lastly, this one….” An up-do, arranged with a short fringe and a cluster of tightly piled curls at the crown and down to the nape of the neck. This was more a light auburn almost straw-berry colour. The back of the head was shown in detail, with the curls pinned to the head.
he models for the photographs were all stunning, which exaggerated the attraction of their hair. Their make-up was faultless, their clothes were simple but superb. Beauty, Andy thought, really is in the eye of the beholder. Then, he looked again at Jenny. She too, is stunning… Confident, Easy-going, Great sense of humour, Great looks…..
“And which one of these would be your first choice?” Jenny put him on the spot.
For a reason – though Andy didn’t know why.
“The last one, the third…. It’s just so feminine…..”
“And you’d had your hair like the first style – the Bob – before? What about the second one? Ever been that curly? Ever had highlights?” Jenny’s professional curiosity came to the fore.
“Well, the first, for sure…. I was like that both as a Blonde and as a Redhead. I did like the feeling – so smooth and I thought sexy too. The Curls – oh, the Curls! That’s my Rula Lenska look – If only I had…… But no, not as lovely as that.”
Jenny sat back and thought for a while and made her decision. She would play Andy’s game this week and keep the surprise for next week. Then, and only then, would she ask him to come to the salon dressed. She’d do his make-up and then work some magic to create that style.
“Alright, Sir, we have a contract – for tonight – and one night only – I’ll style your hair and by the time you leave here, you’ll be a Redhead! Not permanently… But you’ll be able to over-night with it until tomorrow…… I told you that I had some fantastic colouring mousses…. Now’s the time for you to choose the colour you want to be!”
Andy knew this moment was coming – or hoped it was – and couldn’t believe that Jenny had just said that. S he put a shade selection chart in front of him, with dozens of different tufts of hair, probably synthetic, laced into a card which described each one.
“I have to tell you that colours will be quite vibrant when applied to your base colour.” Grey! Andy’s hair was a mixture of several, some white, some dark, strands. Pepper and Salt, Jenny had called it. Very attractive, but not to everyone’s liking.
“Vibrant??” Andy asked – as if it meant any different… He wasn’t going to be walking down the street or meeting people he knew…… The more vibrant the better, he thought.
“Well,…” Jenny admitted, “…. You can never be sure because of how porous the hair is from person to person. Some absorb much more colour….. But it doesn’t last beyond one or two shampoos….. You get a really bright almost crimson with this one….. A deep burgundy wine colour with this one…. Bright pink with this one….. Cobalt blue with this one….! There are so many. Obviously, they don’t really come out as wild with brown hair as a base… But with yours….. It’ll be great fun!!”
Andy felt a rush of excitement. He would be going home a Redhead, so why not indulge!
“I’m in your hands, dear lady. You know what your clients want better than they do, I’m sure!”
“Tonight, Andy, you’re staying with quite short hair, but you’re going home spikey and bright Burgundy – Sharon Osborne’s colour if you know what I mean!”
He did know…. And that would be delightful. Sharon’s hair was always attractive…..
And so Jenny moved him to the shampoo basins and gave him a long slow, quite sultry, wash. She then towel-dried it and moved him to the styling chair where he settled just as before. Nothing had changed. She sectioned the hair and just trimmed a few loose ends.
“You’ll find it grows faster as you let it grow – as you are doing, aren’t you?” She had noticed.
Tell me, about life as a student, some more. Did the parties affect the way you saw yourself at all? I mean, they sound very impactful to me.” Jenny probed. Andy thought through those early days, how he settled into being known for his projected image. How time at the flat set him up for dressing I his now favourite way… What should he say.
Deep in thought, he stayed silent for a while.
Then, when Jenny had sectioned the hair again, she turned to the top tray on a trolley with rollers, pins, dishes and bowls, selecting a tube of something from the lower shelf. That was the colour! She was concentrating hard so Andy’s quietness meant nothing… Andy knew. It was about to begin. He hadn’t had his hair professionally coloured for twenty five years or more! Where was he going with all this? There was no turning back now!!??
Jenny took a wide stubby brush and spread the colour mousse across the first section of his head, behind and below the crown, pasting the ‘goo’ as she called it to the left and right of the parting. She then slid the point of her tail-comb through the hair and made another section. Andy watched in the mirror. Absolutely transfixed….
“I have to work quickly, because the colour develops fast……but slowest at the back, so that’s where I started.” Jenny said, her hands racing through the work she was doing.
Another section, more ‘goo’ and more pasting.
Andy’s thoughts wandered as he studied his reflection in the mirror. Jenny’s did too.
While she worked, neither felt they needed to say anything.
Andy thought how fortunate he had been to have found, in her, the response that probably no other woman within a hundred miles would have given him. He was very lucky. He was glad he had been brave enough to start on this path. Who could tell where it would lead. He found this woman immensely attractive. Not just that, she was hugely empathetic towards him. She was indulging him in his secret obsession. He felt the stirrings of love for her. As she touched his hair, the feeling was electric. He loved the feeling of the clothes he wore. He knew he would never go out – never ‘pass’ as a woman. ………But that didn’t matter any more. He had never really thought he could.
Jenny’s thoughts flew beyond the work her hands were doing. That was easy. She had coloured hundreds or even thousands of women’s hair in just the same way. It was routine and she was good at what she did. What made this so different was this man. He had trusted her. He had let himself be vulnerable. He had exposed himself to possible ridicule. He was obviously sensitive and caring. He had now hidden his irresistible craving from his wife. Mainly to protect her from being hurt or aggravated, and to keep the marriage together...
He wasn’t especially good looking and, at his age, the possibility of his going out dressed the way he dreamed was ridiculous. But he had trusted her with his secret. Let him sit here with his underwear on, luxuriating in the feeling. How could she help him any more?
Three hours later, back home again, standing in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, admiring his own underwear and the look that Jenny had helped create, he was at peace with himself. It was not going to get better than this.
Jenny had finished his hair off, leaving the colour long enough to be a vivid red!
He had told her about the way those parties in his college days had changed him as a young man. How he had grown increasingly happy in himself, among the other students who accepted him for what he was. He had many times been asked if he were attracted to other guys – to which he was able to answer with complete conviction. He was not homosexual. He had never seen himself in the arms o another man…. Not even when he was dressed. He more saw himself having girly days with the female students, enjoying retail experience, coffees and salads together and talking endlessly……
Jenny had finished his hair and stood back to admire her handiwork.
Then, she had suggested…. He wouldn’t have dared to ask… She had suggested that he needed a little make-up to complete the look… “Otherwise, you’re a bloke with a funny haircut!”, she had said. She had used her own cosmetics. Foundation, which covered his many skin blemishes. Eyeshadow, which gave a flash of bright blue. Mascara and Eyeliner, which made his eyes much more a bold focus of his face. And lastly, some lipstick which suited his colours, a deep browny-red with a matt finish. Long-lasting formula. If he was careful, it would last long into the night.
So there he stood. At home, in his bedroom. Oh, if his wife could see him now.
Oh, no! That wouldn’t be good…. However much he wished it could be so.
At this distance from the mirror, looking fantastic. He felt.
The underwear was gorgeous. All slinky and sexy. His tell-tale bulge in the panties had been dealt with in his excitement as soon as he got home. He’d have to find a way to deal with that if he were to dress with another person around.
The bra was snugly fitted. He’d pushed up what chest body mass he could and was pleased with the effect of a bustline. The panties matched prettily. The suspenders were tight and the stockings.. the sheer flesh-coloured stockings were tight and his legs looked shapely. Now, where were those shoes, with the heels!!?
n the back of the wardrobe, where the sun never shone!
At this point, dear Reader, you’re to be given a break – having enjoyed the edited and amended story, please pause to give me some feedback! The rest of the story will eventually be treated in the same way and hopefully you’ll enjoy the second half as much as you’ve enjoyed this, entirely true foundation of the story. Lots of Love, WbG xx
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