Please help keep
our blog alive.
From only $4 a month
Hi Everyone
Another Wednesday round up full of stories art,images and that most delightful tool, the Shiny Lens.
However this time we are headlined by a blog legend. Yes Kylie has once again slipped her pocket perfection physique into Latex for the cover and promo art for her new Christmas album.
Red is definitely my favourite colour especially when it is wrapping a goddess like Kylie. She looks amazing, love the look and hair and make-up.
A very welcome early Christmas gift.
Ok Now we have warmed up, red hot, lets have another few chapters of Notatrogs super story following on from here.
Wonderful World
by
Notatrog
Chapter Six. Noir
“I’m going to open a boutique in town.”
“OK, Auntie, but the town has two boutiques already. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Not one like this. This will be a latex boutique. Something to rival William Wilde. It will become as well known as Belmain.”
And so “Noir” was born.
The premises was a rented shop which was not far from where Will had his flat, and Jane enlisted his help and his ladder to assist in the fitting out. Finally it was ready and Jane had outdone herself. The interior was painted matt black with spotlights mounted on the ceiling illuminating the clothes racks and mannequins displaying garments of the finest latex. Shimmering dresses, skirts, blouses and catsuits jostled for attention among boots, gloves and bizarre fetish wear. There was to be a launch party where the press would join potential customers and other interested parties but unfortunately the shop was too small to contain such an event, so Jane hired a function room nearby where she installed some mannequins displaying a chosen selection of her best wares. A large computer screen displayed a rolling, professionally made presentation, glossy catalogues were spread on a side table and food and drinks were laid out to be consumed while small parties were conducted to the nearby shop premises to fully examine its contents.
“Alan, I want you to host matters at the function room while I conduct the parties to the shop and show them our stock. The caterers will take care of the food and drink, you just need to be my representative at that end of things and answer any questions.”
The Saturday of the launch party arrived. Alan found himself balancing on sky high heels while wearing a skintight black latex catsuit. Jane insisted that the suit should be as smooth and shiny as possible so there was absolutely no underwear underneath its highly polished surface. It was topped off with the shimmering red hair of his favourite wig which fell in waves down over his shoulders but was restrained with a feminine Alice band and a huge pink bow. Jane herself was wearing a dress of virtually transparent burgundy latex, again with absolutely no underwear to spoil its smooth sheen.
This was the first time that Alan had been so exposed in public and he was both excited and terrified in equal measure. The skintight latex clung to his every curve and made him feel as if he was totally naked. Th only concession that Jane had permitted was some judicious tape that kept his crotch area smooth and under control.
The guests began to arrive in waves, and Jane conducted them in parties of five or six around the corner on the two minute walk to where she could show them the shop and its contents. Alan fell into the swing of things, his movements graceful, his makeup immaculate and the clinging catsuit an excellent advertisement for the delights available inside the shop. Champagne flowed, food was consumed and the contents of the shop was photographed. The launch was an outstanding success. An hour before the end the caterers cleared away and departed leaving some last food and drink on a small table in the corner of the function room. The keyholder arrived and they arranged with him that they would return early next morning to clear that away and leave the room ready for a wedding party that afternoon. A cleaner arrived, swept the floor and departed leaving the last half dozen guests from the last party to have visited the shop who were now making the best of the remaining champagne. Together Alan and Jane dismantled the computer display, undressed the mannequins and packed the clothes ready for collection by Will with his van first thing in the morning. At that moment Jane’s phone rang. Her expression changed. She spoke briskly.
“Alan, I’ve got to go for a few minutes. Mayfield is due visit to a dying parishioner but his car won’t start. I must help him and give him a lift. I’ll take him there, drop him off, and come straight back. The shop is all locked up and the alarm set so I’ll leave you here to look after these last few and finish up, and I’ll be back to collect you before they close up here. I promise I’ll be back.” And with that she was gone. Alan ensured that the last guests had their fill of the remaining food and drink and made small talk, answering their final questions and receiving their praise for his avant-garde aunt’s success. The guests departed. The keyholder consulted his pocket watch. He was an elderly gentleman who looked as if he was still living in the 1940s. Closing time approached. The phone in his tiny office rang. Alan heard some form of disagreement. Then he came out. “Young lady, are you Alan?”
“Yes that’s me.”
He looked nonplussed, his brain struggling to digest this conflict. “There’s a phone call for you.”
Alan stepped into the office where the phone handset was laying on the table. It was Aunt Jane.
“Alan. I’m so terribly sorry. I’m stuck. There is a car crash on my route back and the police have closed the road. There is no way that I can get to you, and the jobsworth there insists on closing up precisely on time. When he does, just wait outside. I’ll phone Will and get him to come and collect you. Please don’t worry darling, I’m so very sorry, but keep calm. I’ll get you collected. I promise.”
The jobsworth interrupted.
“I’m locking up now, young lady … young man … whatever. You’ll have to wait outside.” And with that he pressed the button on the phone cradle and disconnected the call.
“Will, this is Aunt Jane. I desperately need your help. I’m stuck at Swaile’s Green because the police have closed Compass Lane so I need you to rescue Alan. He’s stranded outside the function room because they’ve closed up and made him wait outside. He’s got no handbag so no phone or anything and he’s only wearing a latex catsuit. It’s getting dark and he’ll be terrified.”
“OK Auntie, but I can’t drive. I’ve been watching Match of the Day and have had a couple of beers. I’ll run round to him. It’s only ten minutes away if I really leg it, then I’ll get us a taxi back to The Grange. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it.”
Ten minutes later.
“Alan! I’m here! Aunt Jane said to find you. Are you ok?”
Alan looked like a rabbit in the headlights. His voice was shaking.
“Oh Will. I’m a bloke, looking like a girl, in the street, wearing a latex catsuit and bugger all else. Of course I’m OK!”
“Just let me call us a taxi.”
Will spent a few seconds doing this, then put his phone in his pocket and without thinking about it, he took Alan’s hand. When he realised what he’d done he knew it was the right thing to do because his friend was so frightened. I’d better hold his hand for a little while, just to comfort him.
Alan was taken aback. Oh God, he’s holding my hand. It feels so right. He was not only comforted by the reassuring feeling of Will holding his hand, but he felt something more. Please don’t let go, Will, not just yet.
Will sensed that his friend was relaxing. He was so frightened. I’d better not let go, not just yet. Without thinking he squeezed Alan’s hand.
Alan felt the squeeze. Don’t let go, Will. Please don’t let go, not just yet.
This is just to reassure him, that’s all, So just to be safe I won’t let go, not just yet.
They were still holding hands when the taxi arrived. They had to part while they climbed in and then Will resumed his hold as if it was the most natural thing to do and didn’t let go for the entire journey.
The taxi conveyed them to the safety of The Grange. It was only when they climbed out that Will finally released his hold on Alan’s hand. They went inside. Will realised that something irrevocable had changed between them. He suddenly acknowledged Alan’s feminine vulnerability. The moments outside in the street, then in the taxi lingered, suspended in a new warmth and discovery. Will didn’t only need to protect his friend from unpleasant comments, but from something else. He wanted to protect him from an unfair world. He understood the comfort Alan had gained from his touch, and the genuine feeling of something else that he himself had gained from the contact. He realised that they were more than just pals. He was finally comprehending the depth of his feelings.
The days after the Noir launch passed in a gentle rhythm. Jane retained Alan as front of house, always clothing him in risqué outfits that thrilled him to wear. Each evening he returned to The Grange and shed the shimmering latex of his public facing duties for the simpler intimacy of home. Yet the memory of Will’s hand lingered, warm and grounding. He found himself anticipating their meetings in a way which was subtly different to how it had been before. He noticed elusive signals, casual inadvertent touches, each a spark of reassurance and, secretly, hope.
Will, for his part, was restless with a new awareness. He had always cared for Alan, always known him as the boy of his childhood and the vibrant young man that he had become. But the Noir launch rescue, the vulnerability, the eyes looking out from under the flowing red wig, wide and fixed initially with fear and then with relief, this had changed something deep inside him. He felt undeniably drawn and protective, but also strangely attracted. The thought startled him. He was straight. He had never considered himself anything else, but attraction had a way of defying labels, and he struggled with himself to make sense of it. He wasn’t attracted to men. He didn’t want to be attracted to men, but Alan was not wholly male, nor was he wholly female. The sight of him outside in the street, vulnerable and trembling in that latex catsuit stirred something in Will that no one else ever had. He rationalised and agonised and however hard he fought against it he still retained the wonderful feeling of Alan grasping at the hand that he had offered him for protection.
Chapter Seven. Bridesmaid
Aunt Jane swept into his bedroom without knocking, waving an opened letter. Alan, stark naked, was moisturising his legs into a glossy sheen. Electrolysis arranged by and paid for by Aunt Jane had long since removed all of his body hair. He reached for a dressing gown.
“Oh, don’t bother with that, sweetheart, I’ve seen everything you’ve got more times than I care to mention. This is super news, Alan. We are going to a wedding and you, Alan, are going to be a bridesmaid.”
“A bridesmaid? Auntie, I don’t know anyone who is getting married. And a bridesmaid? That can’t be! I couldn’t do it. It would be too much.”
“Darling, It’s Margot Feldman. She is my latex designer and creator. She makes all the rather more … special items for the boutique. She made your catsuit to order. That’s how it fitted so tightly all over.”
“But you didn’t measure me for it!”
“Darling Alan, I’ve been bathing and showering and dressing you ever since you came to live here as a child. I’ve watched you grow and know your measurements to the inch … or should I say centimetre! She was at the Noir launch party and thought that you looked absolutely ravishing in your catsuit, so she wants you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. The other bridesmaids will be her nieces and she will make you all matching latex dresses. It will be so much fun! The invite is for the two of us and you can bring your ‘significant other’. I’ll excuse Will from latex, but he will have a tuxedo sharper than anything he’s ever seen!”
When it came time to try on the dress it was a perfection of polished pink latex. A tight bodice with a keyhole neckline surmounted a skirt composed of flowing, tiered layers down to the calves, short enough to give a clear view of the pretty pink heeled pumps. Will’s Tuxedo was as crisp and elegant as only Aunt Jane could conceive. It would put a Hollywood film star to shame.
This was to be Ms Feldman’s third marriage and as such couldn’t be in a church but was to be held in the beautiful Loxley Manor House. The rehearsal went well. Alan went conservatively dressed in a black PVC skirt that ended just above the knee, matched with a simple white blouse that only showed a hint of the white bra that he was wearing underneath. The head bridesmaid was the older of Ms Feldman’s five nieces, the rest ranged in order of age and height so that Alan was neither the tallest nor the shortest and was of similar age to the middle girl. He would be able to blend in perfectly.
The day of the wedding was bright and sunny. A limousine collected Jane, Alan and Will from The Grange. It was a thirty-minute drive to Loxley Manor House and as was normal for him in these circumstances Alan was part thrilled at the forthcoming public appearance and also partly terrified. Will, by now totally attuned to his friend’s feelings, sensed this. “Alan, you look drop dead gorgeous. If it’s appropriate to say that a bloke looks pretty, then I’ll say it. You look really pretty. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a bridesmaid.” He reinforced this comment by gently stroking Alan’s forearm. On arrival at the venue an usher furnished Alan with a pretty bouquet of pink and white roses. He joined the other bridesmaids and the photographer set about recording the occasion. The ceremony was uneventful and as soon as it was over the wedding guests all made their way to the ballroom for the reception. More photographs were required outside, and by the time Alan entered the hall it was already buzzing with the chatter and laughter of the guests.
The hall was scented by a profusion of roses in vases. A long table, dressed with white linen and flowers displayed a light finger buffet as was usual on these occasions. Tables were set around the perimeter of the ballroom, each decorated with more roses and lighted scented candles. The bride, the groom and the bridesmaids, Alan included, circulated to each table in turn, and then the band struck up for the first dance. The Bride and Groom dutifully started the dancing and were quickly joined by the Best Man and Chief Bridesmaid, then other dancers gradually filled the dancefloor. Will was standing alone and taking advantage of one of the tall glasses of champagne that were on offer. He knew that many of the guests would be well aware of Alan’s history and he was being carefully observant for any potential problems. One or two stared at Alan slightly longer than would be normal, and there were one or two remarks being made behind raised hands, but nothing that he judged would cause his friend any alarm. At first Alan had to stay with the group of bridesmaids to be admired by the assembled guests, but eventually they all paired off with their respective partners to join the dancing. As soon as he could, Alan joined Will, standing close for comfort.
Margot had managed to detach herself from her new husband and was deep in conversation with Aunt Jane. They were looking at Alan and Will while being careful not to be seen to be doing so.
“Thank you so much, Margot. This is a great favour.”
“Not at all, my Dear Jane. I was only too pleased to help. Not many people can boast of having a pretty young man as a bridesmaid, and your Alan is certainly that. Let’s hope that it works for you.”
“Margot, all I can do is to arrange for them to be together. The rest is up to them.”
On the other side of the room, Alan’s posture was becoming tight and defensive. He declined Will’s offer to fetch him a drink and folded his arms as if for protection.
Will’s jaw tightened. He hated it. He hated that Alan had to live with a constant background hum of judgement, even on an evening meant for fun. He thought of the courage that Alan had needed just to turn up.
He put down his glass and extended his hand. “Come on Alan. Dance with me.”
Alan gave a small laugh, low and self-deprecating. “What me? In this crowd? I’d rather not be the evening’s entertainment.”
Will frowned. “What are you on about? That won’t happen.”
“You’ve seen the looks. Some aren’t even subtle. Whispering behind their hands. Staring.”
“So what, Let them stare. Alan, would you please do me the honour of dancing with me?” He stepped closer, his hand still extended.
Alan’s eyes searched his face, full of doubt. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”
“Please, Alan. Please dance with me.” He took Alan’s hand and guided him onto the dance floor. There was a momentary confusion of arms, but Will grasped Alan’s right hand softly and put his own right hand on Alan’s waist, drawing him close.
Alan smiled. “You are leading, apparently.” And they set off. Again, there was a slight confusion of feet until they became attuned to each others movements, clumsy at first but then totally in synchronisation. Will found himself more aware of his friend’s physical presence than ever before. The firmness of his tiny waist under the polished latex bodice. The curve of his shoulder under the fabric. His perfectly made-up eyes and lips. The smell of his perfume.
Alan’s posture softened and he leaned into Will’s body. His face showed a trace of a smile. “You are pretty good at this.”
“So are you. Will replied, his throat strangely dry.
They became lost in each other’s presence. They were the only two people on the dance floor. Will’s heart was thudding. His mind was swept with thoughts that he couldn’t make sense of. You are straight, he reminded himself, but that didn’t seem to matter here with Alan in his arms. They danced, comfortable in each other’s presence, until without conscious thought, Alan turned his head and kissed Will on the cheek. He froze.
“Oh God! Will, I didn’t mean … I wasn’t …” his voice was cracking with emotion.
Before Will could speak Alan pulled away, turned and fled across the dance floor, out through the double doors and out into the evening.
For a moment Will stood transfixed, the ghost of the kiss still warm on his cheek, then he ran, pushing his way through the dancers, and followed his friend out into the courtyard.
The sun was below the horizon but was still illuminating the western skyline with its golden glow. The evening air was cool against Will’s skin. There were a number of couples in the courtyard and his eyes searched among them until he detected Alan’s figure in the distance, back towards him, bent over, shoulders heaving. Will walked over.
“Alan.” he spoke softly.
Alan turned his tear-streaked face towards him, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands because he had no handkerchief. “I’m so sorry, Will. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me. Whatever was I thinking of. I’m so very sorry Will. I’ve ruined everything.”
Will stepped closer. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Alan gave a bitter laugh, half a sob. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to make me feel better. I know how you’ve been struggling with your own emotions. You are straight. Always will be. I should have respected that more. I know that I’ve been causing you to question that. We were friends, good friends. Now I’ve ruined that.” His eyes were wet and full of fear. Full of regret. Something raw and aching.
Will reached out and took his friend’s arm firmly. Steady. Grounding. Suddenly he knew. No doubts. No decisions. He knew. In that fragile silence he leaned forward. Carefully, so that Alan had time to pull away if he wanted to, he kissed him fully on the lips. Not quickly, but lingering. Alan went perfectly still, the air between them charged. When Will pulled back he whispered, “See? Not ruined.”
He took out his handkerchief and dabbed Alan’s eyes dry. His makeup was all smeared and was streaking his face. “Now, our bride will want her prettiest bridesmaid back in circulation, but you need some running repairs. Wait there, I’ll fetch help.” He ran off and returned a short while later with Aunt Jane. She produced the required items from her handbag and expertly restored Alan’s makeup to a state of perfection. “Now you two should return to the dance. You were looking lovely together. A lovely couple. Now enjoy some more dancing because it won’t be long until the bride and groom leave to go on their honeymoon, and then I think that we’d better go home.
Ok more in a while.
Lets get the Shiny Lens out and cast it about and see who....... ah
blog legends ahoy.
Though I think, by her reaction, Vorders might have suffered a Latexium moment.
Now,for those of you who are following the story on Patreon, Our friend Amber has created this images as part of the fun.
Love the quality of these.
Hey, we have forgotten Matty
No we haven't Here are some more of his super art
Super stuff, where can we go from there? Notatrog?, please take us home
Chapter Eight. Shifting Boundaries
Back at The Grange, Alan went to his room and carefully removed his dress and hung it up cautiously. It was so pretty, but he knew that he would not have another occasion to wear it, so it would be professionally cleaned and returned to the shop. He pulled on his shiny PVC mini skirt, buttoned on a blue boy shirt top and tied it at his midriff then went downstairs to where Will, already out of his Tuxedo and in his tracksuit was waiting with Aunt Jane who was immaculately presented as always.
“Now, lets not beat about the bush. You two are an item now, am I right?”
“Yes Auntie.” Strangely enough it was Will who answered, and he had never referred to her as ‘Auntie’ before. It had always been the more formal ‘Aunt’ or ‘Aunt Jane’. Alan nodded but was unsure as to how to proceed.
Jane’s eyes sparkled. “Will, if you like, don’t bother going back to your flat tomorrow, you may move in here at The Grange. We can collect your stuff from the flat another day. From now on you will be sharing with Alan and that will save you the rent on your flat. We can sort out the details later.” This without even batting an eyelid. “Does that suit you both.”
Speechless, they nodded assent.
“Splendid. That’s sorted. Now how about you work for me at Noir. Alan is superb at front of house and I need someone like you who can manage a spreadsheet and look after the backroom work. That way you can travel to work together. Alan is about to get his provisional licence and learn to drive, so once he has a car of his own you can share the travelling. This will take the pressure off me as I won’t need to be at the shop every day. You two can run it perfectly between you.”
This was the first that Alan had heard about his learning to drive, but then Aunt Jane always seemed to have plans of her own where he was concerned.
“Now, are we all relaxed and happy?”
Again they both nodded.
“Then off to bed with you. Will, I’ve already moved your overnight bag into Alan’s room.”
Will and Alan looked at each other aghast. They both blushed.
“Chop chop, be off with you. I want a few minutes to myself before I turn in.”
The room had its own en-suite shower, which Alan used first while Will sorted out his own overnight things. Aunt Jane had missed some bits and pieces so he had to go back to what had been his own room to collect them. Jane hadn’t had time to do any more than carry his overnight bag into Alan’s room, and Will guessed that this was just to make the point, that they were now sleeping together.
Sleeping together! There were two words that carried so much consequence. Will obviously knew the mechanics of how two males managed things in the bedroom, but up until now he’d never thought that he would have to undertake such things with another man himself.
Alan emerged from the shower wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, then sat down at the vanity unit to remove his makeup. Will showered, and as he hadn’t bothered to pack a dressing gown, only expecting the one overnight stay, he emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Alan had swapped his fluffy bathrobe for a burgundy satin dressing gown and was sitting on the side of the bed. Will sat down beside him.
“Will, I’ve got to confess, I’ve never anticipated this situation. Although I know what we are supposed to do, I don’t really know how to do it, not with any decorum.”
“Me neither. There is no instruction manual and I don’t intend to go by Pornhub!”
“And Will, one more thing. I have loved you for a long time, and kept it restrained, until today, that is. Now I accept that you … love me?”
“Yes, Alan. I think I’ve loved you much longer than I care to admit, for obvious reasons. I couldn’t admit it to myself. I couldn’t possibly be gay?”
“Well that’s just it. You aren’t gay or even bisexual. You are probably the straightest bloke I know. You know me as I am in my female persona where I think it’s fair to say that I am pretty, and perhaps sexy. But underneath this gown I am all male. Without my clothes and makeup, I’m a bloke. Are you absolutely sure that you know what you are doing, because as much as I love you, I’ve never been less sure of anything in my entire life.”
“I’ve never been more sure. I got that clear in my brain when I kissed you. I certainly am not gay. You need never fear that my head will be turned by another guy. Or a female for that matter. I’m straight, but I love you. Yes you are a man, but you are the person that I love. Now stand up.”
Alan complied and Will stood up in front of him, letting his towel slip to the floor as he did so. He reached forward, unbelted Alan’s gown and pulled it clear of his shoulders, then let it slip to the floor. They now stood naked before each other.
“I sure as hell don’t know how to start, but we’ve got to start somewhere.” He stepped forward, chest to chest, wrapped his arms around his friend, and kissed him properly, open mouth and with tongues. He realised that they were fondling each other’s hair, then backs, then bottoms. Eventually, breathless, they parted.
“Now let’s get on the bed. Let’s make it up together.”
They lay down together, hesitant hands exploring, lips meeting again and again. It was all very awkward at first. A tangle of limbs, a clash of elbows, giggling and chuckling, but also tender, trusting and filled with wonder. The physicality was new, but the trust in each other was not, and that trust guided proceedings until they were both satisfied and Alan lay with his head on Will’s chest.
“That wasn’t perfect but it was bloody wonderful.”
“There is no manual, so let’s write one ourselves.”
Wrapped together they both slowly drifted into sleep, Alan safe at last in the warmth of Will’s arms.
As the sun was rising Will awoke to the sound of Alan showering. He turned onto his side and watched as his friend came out of the shower, wrapped in his fluffy white bathrobe, towelling his copper hair dry. He then swapped the bathrobe for his satin dressing gown, sat at his vanity unit and commenced carefully applying his makeup. Will pushed himself into a sitting position.
“Mornin’ Alan. I’ve never seen anyone, male or female, putting on their makeup. Why this early. Why don’t you wait until after breakfast?”
Alan looked across at him and smiled a broad smile. “Mornin’ Will. I’ve never looked across and seen a man in my bed. Correction, ‘our bed’ now. In answer to your question, Aunt Jane insists on full makeup from very first thing until the last moment before bed. She also insists on us both being properly dressed from very first thing. In my case that’s usually my latex maid’s outfit. As you know, it’s only fairly recently that I’ve been going out in public, then she insists on tight latex, PVC, or shiny filmy fabrics. Everything either tight and closely fitted or alternatively completely flowing. Nothing ‘ordinary’ or conventional, basically.”
“You always look absolutely stunning. It’s hard to think that you are the same bloke I’ve played football with.”
“Aunt Jane has stopped me from playing football now.” Alan stroked his legs, “Auntie has paid a lot of money to make me totally hairless. She wouldn’t want these legs getting bruised. I don’t have any body hair at all now. I don’t ever shave.”
“Well, that’s no hardship. I wish I didn’t need to shave.”
“I was lucky. Puberty virtually passed me by. I feel sorry for other men who try to present as female, but puberty changes the shape of a man’s face, his brow line and jaw. It changes the whole body really, but I’m lucky. When it became noticeable that my puberty was virtually non-existent Aunt Jane took me to see a specialist thinking that he would give me testosterone to bring it on but once he had heard my story he thought that I would want to transition so he put me on female hormones instead. Of course, I knew that I didn’t want to transition but I kept up with the hormones so that my whole face and figure has become very feminine. I think I have a lovely bum! Auntie just helped by giving me a corset and padded bra. Gives me a waist and boobs.”
“Have you never considered surgery?”
“That’s a difficult one. Basically I want to remain a male. It’s all very complicated, of course. I’m more than just a cross dresser, but less, I suppose, than a transexual. I think the appropriate term, which I hate, is ‘femboy’. Aunt Jane and I have discussed this at length. I wouldn’t mind boobs, so that I could go braless and have nipples poking out, but the male chest doesn’t easily take a boob job. The frame, muscles and fat disposition is all different. I’m probably a better candidate than most, but up to now we’ve decided against it. I’m reasonably happy as I am.”
“Does the same go for ‘down below’?”
“That’s even more problematic. Even the very best surgery only provides a facsimile of the female form down there. It’s very difficult and painful as I understand it, and not guaranteed to be successful. It’s not what I want. I’m happy to be a guy in frocks and makeup. Which prompts me to say something serious.”
Alan paused and took a deep breath. The whole atmosphere suddenly changed. The air seemed electrified, like during a thunderstorm. Will’s senses keened, so that he was ready for whatever was to come.
Alan turned on his seat to face Will without realising that he was nervously playing with the belt of his dressing gown.
“Will. I love you and I know now that you love me, and last night was absolutely wonderful, more wonderful than I could ever have imagined, but with me you will never, ever, be able to have a ‘normal’ sexual relationship. It will always be, basically, gay sex. I know that when you rescued me after the Noir launch something in you changed, and I can see that you’ve been wrestling with your emotions since then. Yesterday, weren’t we both caught up in the moment? My pretty dress, the dance, my inadvertent kiss. The emotion that those things brought out in both of us. What I’m saying, Will, is that if you want to slow things down, take a step back, or even go back to how we were before any of this happened, it’s ok with me. I love you and will always love you, but if we have to be just best friends because we are both blokes, then that would be fine. I wouldn’t be at all upset with you if that’s what you want. At least we are totally open and honest with each other now. No secrets, no pretence, but you must be happy, Will. I don’t want you to come down off our high and realise that you have made a serious mistake.”
There was a long silence. Will threw back the duvet, sat up with all his nakedness on display, and shifted into a sitting position on the side of the bed.
“Thank you for that, Alan. You are not only beautiful outside, but you are beautiful inside. Beautiful, considerate and honest. Also vulnerable and in need of a life partner. I love you and want to be that life partner, and if that means adjusting to a different type of sex life then that’s fine by me. No slur on the gay scene, but I don’t think of what we did last night as gay sex. It’s just normal sex between two loving and experimental people who happen to both be males. Last night was wonderful. Far from perfect, I admit, but then we have plenty of time for further practice. All that I want is to spend all my time with you, all day and all night and I want to explore every possibility of what we can do with each other’s bodies to give each other pleasure. Pleasure and fun, because I don’t think that bedroom antics should be totally serious. There should be as much laughter as grunting and groaning, and you are the person that I want to grunt and groan and laugh with.”
Aunt Jane, who had been listening outside the bedroom door, smiled a satisfied smile and knocked. Opening the door just enough to be heard, she announced breakfast in fifteen minutes. “And you can come down casually dressed, Alan. I won’t need a maid today.”
“Casually dressed. That’s a bonus, she’s obviously loosening up!” Will chuckled.
“Not at all. Auntie’s ‘casually dressed’ is skintight black latex leggings, a white latex blouse and heels that are only four inches, She does excuse me the corset!”
Alan quickly finished his makeup and stood up. Removing his dressing gown without any embarrassment whatsoever he opened his wardrobe, pulled a drawer open, and removed a small latex thong. It was so small and tight that he struggled to get into it. Without looking up he explained, “This is to keep ‘the old chap’ squashed and under control. In the leggings she doesn’t want any male bulge visible, but no panty-line either. That catsuit was so tight fitting that all she would allow was tucking and taping. That’s ok if you are never going to sit down!”
“Gosh, she’s rather more of a tyrant than I had realised!”
“No, not at all, Will. She is very loving and only wants the best for me. She just has very high standards but I like that. She likes perfection and so do I. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
With this in mind Will felt very anxious about his crumpled jeans which had been stuffed into his overnight bag since he had got dressed for the wedding. As they went downstairs he was frantically trying to iron them with the palms of his hands.
Aunt Jane met them in the breakfast room. She did not employ any staff and had cooked the breakfast herself. There, on a hotplate, was a selection of eggs, fried, scrambled or poached. Bacon, fried tomatoes and hash browns. There was toast or bread rolls, and a choice of cereals. There was also a dish containing chopped melon. A plate was being kept warm on another hotplate. Will had breakfasted at The Grange on a few occasions now, usually serving himself with cereal from the pantry and he had never seen a breakfast set out like this.
“A treat for my new family member. Because you are family now, Will. Help yourself.”
“Only one plate?” Observed Will. “Shall I fetch a couple more?”
“The plate is for you. Us girls have to watch our waistlines, don’t we, Alan?”
Will served himself a decent Full English, while Jane and Alan limited themselves to a small portion of melon each.
“Aunt Jane, surely the rest of this will just be wasted?”
“Oh, I came down early, and just got carried away, cooking this and cooking that. Before I had realised what I was doing there was all this. But as I said, it’s a suitable welcome for you, Will. You are one of us, now.”
Chapter Nine. Coming Out
While the village had for the most part come to terms with Alan and his peculiar persona, he knew that when the new nature of his relationship with Will became public knowledge there would be many who would struggle to accept them. They had become accepted in the Kings Head as pals, but what would the regulars think when it became apparent that they were partners. This would need to be carefully managed.
They began with shopping. It would be natural for two friends to go shopping together whether male, female or a peculiar blend. There was not a huge opportunity for this strategy, but they visited the butcher, the baker and the small grocery shop which also served as a post office and occasionally held hands when walking around. People began to notice. In the pub they deliberately sat close to each other, as couples typically do. They sat close enough that their knees brushed under the table, a very slight but noticeable difference from the way two pals would sit. During their conversation they would touch hands when making a point and Will would be more attentive to Alan, moving his chair to seat him as a man would seat a lady. Alan, for his part, acted in a far more feminine way that he had done when he was first trying to be accepted. Although in the old days he would have loved to sink a pint, he now restricted himself to amaretto and pineapple juice. He would never go to the bar but would rely on Will to do so. The regulars muttered and surreptitiously discussed this obvious change in their relationship.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Will. I’m starting to sense hostility. The remarks are no longer muted, they are starting to be made deliberately in a way that we can hear them.”
“Let’s persevere. Hopefully they’ll get tired of us and talk about something more interesting, like bird flu or the price of cattle feed. Don’t forget. You are not alone with this. I am here for you, all the way.”
They stopped short of kissing in public, but Will began to make a point of linking arms with Alan in a very obvious way. This not only drew attention to their relationship but also gave Alan an extra degree of emotional support that only their closeness could provide. The background noise only became louder.
It was The Reverend Greene who had the answer. Aunt Jane regularly attended church every Sunday. Alan did attend with her from time to time, but with far less regularity. Since Will had come to live at The Grange he had not attended at all.
The Reverend Greene was on one of his regular visits to The Grange, but today his motive was not just social. He was deep in conversation with Lady Jane organising the Harvest Festival. Jane took on the task of arranging the attendance of the nearby schools while Mayfield would coordinate for the attendance of the Scouts, Guides and their more junior associations. All were to bring donations of food, and he would arrange its distribution among the needy. He heard the two boys arrive at the kitchen door after a bracing autumn walk.
“Alan! Will! Are you free for a moment?”
“Of course, Reverend, how can we help?”
“Oh, do call me Mayfield outside office hours! I just wanted to confirm that I will see you both at the Harvest festival.”
The boys both looked more than slightly reticent.
“Come now lads. St. Giles has missed your presence recently Alan. And Will, now that you live in the parish again, you really should come and join us, don’t you agree, Jane?”
“Certainly, Mayfield. I’ve been most remiss at not bringing them along, so we will rectify that at the Harvest Festival, won’t we boys …”
The morning of the Harvest Festival dawned bright and cloudless. The rising sun quickly burned the autumn mist off of the ditches and streams. The church bell at St. Giles summonsed worshipers to the early morning service. The Harvest Festival was to take place later in the morning. As the appointed time approached parties of school children walked in chattering crocodiles carrying baskets and bags filled with fresh fruit and vegetables. Scouts and Guides in their neatly pressed uniforms marched from their headquarters, led proudly by their standard bearers. Their junior colleagues followed behind, walking rather than marching. The pews filled with farmers and their wives. Will and Alan crossed the village green, hand in hand, hearts in mouths.
Will was dressed neatly in well pressed jeans, an appropriately rural check shirt and a tweed waistcoat. Jane had dressed Alan conservatively in a black PVC pencil skirt with it’s hem just below the knee, a pretty blue satin blouse with ruffles and a keyhole neckline, grey tights and simple shoes with kitten heels. He carried a matching blue shoulder bag.
Together, still holding hands, they entered the church. The children continued to chatter, but amongst the older parishioners, silence fell. Then some mumbled disapproval. Then one or two quite audible comments.
“T’aint right!”
“Not natural!”
“Would never have happened a few years ago. The village has gone down the pan.”
Both Will and Alan felt their hearts pounding. Their heads felt like balloons. “Hold tight.” Will told his companion, “We can do this.” He squeezed Alan’s hand.
The Reverend Greene had been waiting, just out of sight in the vestry doorway. At the appropriate moment, just when the commentators were busy agreeing with each other he stepped into view.
“Welcome everyone to our Harvest Festival when we celebrate God’s bounty. And welcome Alan! Welcome Will! We are all very pleased to see you both together, joining our congregation. The Bible tells us to love one another. We celebrate your love for each other, and we love you both in our turn.”
His gaze swept the congregation. “I hope that now you are settled together you will regularly join us in our worship here at St. Giles.”
The silence from the congregation was palpable. He looked at the children in the congregation and began to clap. They all happily joined in. The applause filled the church. He climbed into the pulpit and signalled for silence.
“Now let us all join together and sing our first hymn. All Things Bright and Beautiful.”
The organist sounded the first chords, the singing began, and Will and Alan breathed again. In her pew at the front, Lady Jane smiled at the vicar and nodded her thanks.
To be continued
XXX
Andy
No comments:
Post a Comment