Wednesday with Skinnie ,Alex and Amanda

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Hi Everyone

   It has been a while but I have found time to have a quick Wednesday catch up and we have some classic to drift over.

 First up and possibly the biggest event since I was last here, was the epic vision of ex pro football player and now BBC sports reporter Alex Scott smashing the internet in a slick red YSL Latex dress as she co-hosted this years Soccer Aid game. I mean WOW!!!!!

Now a little bit of fun I have been messing with. Ai has spread rapidly and is great fun to mess with, though to be honest it will never replace the fun i have creating art in my own style.

  That said and after many miss-steps I have finally created a near perfect Ai model of Andy to go along with the Ai Aunt Jane featured on Patreon a few day ago.

Next a brief step back in time to Amanda Holden and that stunning yellow Latex dress, with a very brief clip of the lady herself showing us some moves.

 Love that dress

And now the sheer delight of a new piece by our dear Skinnie Stallion, or rather the first 3 parts. This is based on my art  'While the cat's away'

Thank you my dear S, you are a Gem 

XX

When the cat’s away, play away 

Part 1: When the cat’s away

A last lingering kiss through the open window, then Andy watched the Tesla glide smoothly away from the forecourt of Fullerton Hall and sweep down the curving, oak tree lined drive until it was out of sight.  He could track its progress by the scrunch of tyres on gravel.  He waited until he heard the distant clang as the electric gates to the Estate swung shut before flitting back inside on his Louboutin heels and closing the front door.   The air hung heavy in the silent hallway.  So different from the hustle and bustle as he’d prepared his Auntie for her trip to Tonbridge Wells. He leant back against the door, taking the weight on his heels, and stretched.   Alone.   But his heart soared.

So that was it.  He was on his own.  He licked his lips. He might have been trained not to, but still he licked.  He could touch up his own lips later.  He floated with pleasure as he closed his eyes savouring the tang  on his tongue.  He might have painted his Aunt’s lips earlier, but he could tell the brand and colour just from the taste: Chanel Coco Rouge Ultra Carmen.  He adored the richness of her Carmen shade that went well with anything she wore and perfectly complemented the soles of her Louboutins.  He slid his tongue over his lips again. He relished her Carmen overlaying his MAC Amplified Morange. He loved her warm creamy glistening  lips.  He loved the taste of her.   He loved his Auntie.

Lady Jane would be out for the rest of the afternoon and all evening: a business meeting followed by a dinner.  She’d said she wouldn’t be back till late.   Very late.  She’d been very mysterious about the identity of her dinner companion but he’d felt reassured by the elegant formality of her nicest brown business suit so she had to be seeing a client.   

Something still niggled though. A business meeting on a Saturday?   The stylish cut of her brown latex bolero jacket and the shapeliness of her figure hugging beige latex dress with pencil skirt coupled with 6” black Loubous could work so well on a date.  She was wearing her diamond pendant earrings too.  If he had a key, he’d check her diary but her office at Fullerton Hall was kept locked. It was one of the few rooms that was off-limits and not on his cleaning rota.  She said it was for GDPR and compliance with client data protection so he couldn’t argue about access.

He looked at the grandfather clock and checked the time.  Two o’clock.  He should have enough time if he raced through the rest of his afternoon rota.  He’d WhatsApp’d Will that morning.  He wafted delicately upstairs to his bedroom as fast as his 5” heeled sandals would allow.  He passed his Aunt’s Office lingering momentarily outside Jane’s Mistress Bedroom (she found the term ‘Master Bedroom’ distasteful) before moving on to his room next door.   It was such a shame that he would be missing out on one of their Saturday evening’s together.   They would be missing out.  His time with his Aunt was so precious.  He knew it couldn’t last for ever.

Even though he was alone in the Hall, he closed his bedroom door.  He was too used to being furtive when using his phone.  He retrieved it from under the mattress  and turned it on.  It immediately pinged with a reply message.    He’d suggested going to a film and then a bar, or maybe even bars. If they went to an early showing, he could be back at the Hall well before his Aunt returned. She needn’t know.   He didn’t tell Will why timing was going to be critical.  His face fell when he read Will’s reply: “Sorry, no can do.”  He was crestfallen: Will already had a date with his girlfriend.  Andy settled on the edge of his bed to reply.  There followed a flurried exchange of messages.   Will got Andrea to agree to the cinema provided she could bring a friend along to make it a foursome so that Andy wouldn’t be playing gooseberry.  She would check if Chantelle could join them.  Andy valued his time with Will, but he couldn’t help wondering what Chantelle would be like. It was a while since he’d been on a date.  He sighed.   Spending his weekends with Auntie had put an end to going on dates.

He looked at his dressing table and stared wistfully at his pictures of Emma and Keira attached to his make-up mirror.  It was nice that Auntie still allowed him his ‘girlfriends’ (although he kept the ones of Carol and Amanda back at his flat just in case Jane felt she had rivals).  His gaze shifted to his make-up palette and then to the little photo that Jane had taken of one of their first adventures together when Jane had persuaded him to go out with her wearing make-up. Not in town, of course, but in London where he could ‘hide’.  He still fondly remembered her special treat that day of a visit with her to the Honour store .  

He liked Andrea, even though she sometimes took priority with Will.   If Chantelle was Andrea’s friend, she had to be nice.  He just needed something to wear.  

Part 2: Play Away Preparations

A moment of doubt struck him. His heart fluttered.   What Jane had done with his Friday clothes?   These days he always changed out of his everyday clothes when he arrived at Fullerton Hall.  It was so therapeutic to be able to leave his humdrum work existence behind.  All he needed was to shower, do his make-up, then slip into a maid’s dress and heels knowing that he had a blissful weekend ahead with his Auntie.  He could be everything she wanted him to be, and he could be everything he now wanted to be.   It was a mystery to him know why he’d ever resisted his Aunt’s suggestions. It had been difficult enough getting him into heels at first, but she knew he would do anything for her.   Now it just felt natural.  And latex suited him so well.   But being dressed as a sissymaid wasn’t going to work if Will was picking him up in a couple of hours to go to the cinema.   

Jane normally took his clothes after he’d changed and only allowed them back on Sunday morning for church and returned them on Monday morning when she drove him into town.  What had she done with them?   They weren’t in his bedroom.   He needed to search.   There were only so many places they could be.  He nipped next door to the Mistress bedroom.   He knew her closets, her wardrobes  and her dressers.  No sign.  He scurried through the other bedrooms. No success. He tried the Box Room.   Nothing.   He began to flap.  He went downstairs.  They weren’t in the Utility Room.  He went through to the Garage.   No success.  They weren’t in the Reception Room.  They weren’t in the Sitting Room. They weren’t in the Games Room.  They weren’t in the Basement, not even in Jane’s special Playroom  or ‘Dungeon’ as Andy felt it more properly called.  He was getting anxious.   He moved on to the less likely places: the Library, the Dining Room, the Conservatory.  No joy.   

He started to feel desperate.  Will would be here in two hours, and he would still be dressed as a French Maid.  A latex French Maid.  A Maid with transparent, stay-up latex stockings and high-heeled sandals.   About the only thing he did not need to wear were his pretty gold hoop earrings, although they went so well with his Maid look.  The only place left to search was his Aunt’s Office.  

He went back up upstairs.  The paintings of Lord Fullerton’s ancestors lining the walls of the staircase looked down on him.  The portrait of Lady Mary seemed to be mocking him.  ‘This  is what you get for defying my daughter,’ she seemed to be saying.  He stopped at the first door on the landing.  He turned the doorknob.   The door didn’t budge.   It was locked like he should have expected.   He let go.  It reminded him that he still needed to complete that afternoon’s rota.   He had to get his Brasso and his cloths: Jane would notice if her knob hadn’t been polished.   He needed to polish a lot of knobs that afternoon.  Not just Brasso.  Spit and Brasso.   ‘Always spit when polishing a knob’, that’s what Jane had recommended when she’d started training him as her maid.  He didn’t understand.  It didn’t appear to improve the result.  Brasso alone seemed to work just fine, but Auntie had been insistent.   She wanted him to be the best maid and have the best knob polishing technique.  She said he’d understand one day.   He always spat now before he buffed the knobs.  

He looked through the keyhole as if that was going to help.   He went to check in his Aunt’s bedroom, but there was no sign of her keys.  He was beginning to lose hope.  How could he see Will let alone go out with him dressed like this. Then a thought struck him.

He went back to his bedroom.  He scanned the upper racks.  He knew what he was looking for.  Not the luxury bags that he kept as reminders of their shopping expeditions.   Not the boxes with his prized Louboutins.  Not the larger box with its latest addition of his Dolly Booty Alta Louboutins.  He already loved his Dolly Alta ankle boots.  He was amazed that Jane had bought him them such an expensive present. ‘For being such a good Boy!,’ she’d said,.   He didn’t understand her emphasis on Boy.  There were so many things he didn’t understand.   But he wasn’t going to protest that boys don’t normally wear 6” heels.  He loved the thought of being in 6” heels or higher in his Dolly’s.  Auntie had let him try on her pair of tan coloured PVC pants to go with them: ‘an extra birthday treat’, she’d said.  Black Dolly’s would go with anything, she said.  He just needed an occasion when Auntie would allow him to wear them.   And hopefully the pants too.

His eyes shifted to two boxes on the shelf above the closet with his maid’s dresses.   How appropriate that they should be there.   Boxes that Aunt Jane had made him pack nearly a year ago when he came to stay for a summer break and she’d first put him in a maid’s dress.  A summer of hedonistic pleasures. Dressing as a maid wasn’t his only first that day.  Jane had insisted that the clothes he was wearing that fateful day be consigned to the dustbin of history, or at least the shoeboxes. He wouldn’t be wearing them again. Not when he was with her.  Not now, not ever.   She’d made him pack them up and given him a sharpie to label them.   He stared up at his writing: “Andrew’s old clothes.  Do not open”.       He was now her maid.   She expected her maids to be presentable.   Her maids wore nice dresses.  Her maids wore high heels.  Her maids had to have flawless make-up.   She didn’t have time in her life for ugly, badly dressed boys.  He had to be pretty if he was going to stay with her.  Grudgingly he’d complied.  

The writing on the boxes teased him.  It tempted him.   Surely it wouldn’t be so bad to wear his old things to meet Will.  That’s if they still fitted.  He’d lost a little weight since last summer.  Lost it in the right places.   Auntie wanted perfect lines if he was going to fit the clothes that she kept buying for him.  Every week, his wardrobe seemed to expand: a lingerie set, a new dress, a new pair of pants, a skirt.  And that didn’t include the shoes. Andy wanted perfect lines too.   It had become a matter of personal pride.   He looked up longingly at the boxes.   “Do not open”, his writing glared back in warning.  Surely it wouldn’t matter if he was just checking whether his chinos and shirt were still the right size?

Part 3: The cat crept in

 

The boxes were tantalisingly out of Andy’s reach.  Even in his 5” heels he couldn’t reach the upper shelf.   He scanned the room.  He wasn’t going to the garage to get a ladder and risk scratching the oak panelling in the Hall or staircase.  A box should do.   He retrieved one from under his bed.   As he bent to unfasten his shoes, his hoop earrings tinkled together.   Aunt Jane had been right: it had been worth getting his ears pierced.   He felt so much better wearing earrings.  And as ever Auntie had been correct in her choice.  He’d  thought he’d just get a little gold sleeper.  In just one ear.    But no, she insisted on both ears, and she selected earrings for him:  little diamond studs for evening wear, sleepers for bedroom and overnight, and  large hoops for the day.  He loved his hoops.  They made him feel so .. he paused not quite believing what he was saying to himself … so …. well, so feminine.  They definitely framed his face and felt natural if he was wearing make-up.    They completed his maid’s ensemble. 

He snapped out of his thoughtful reverie, realising that standing on tiptoe would be no better than standing in his heels.  He just hoped the thin stilettos of his So Kates wouldn’t puncture the board or leave tell-tale marks.   He was retrieving the first box when he was jolted from his task by a voice behind him that he knew only too well: “When I come home I expect my Maid to be waiting with …” he heard his Aunt bark but she stopped mid-sentence.   Startled, he started to flap, lost both his balance and his grip on the box.  Its contents tumbled.   It was his deck shoes.  

“Aunt Jane!” he squealed in astonishment and broke into a cold sweat.  Had she rung the bell?  He’d never heard it, nor felt his Hummingbird go off.   He’d not heard the front door, nor her footsteps on the, as yet, undusted and unpolished oak staircase.   She must have come in while he was preoccupied.     What was she doing back so soon?   

 1 Beside its obvious connection to Jane’s phone, Andy’s Hummingbird is also connected to the main entrance bell to Fullerton Hall so that he can provide prompt service to Jane or her visitors.  Jane likes her maid to be on call at all times.

Jane watched the shoes land and caught sight of the writing on the box he was hastily trying to push back on the shelf.  “Andrew Watson!  Whatever do you think you are doing?”   She gazed about the room to see what else he might be doing.     She spotted his phone on the bed and picked it up.  Andy knew he’d been caught.  Caught red-handed.

To Be Continued

XXX

Take care everyone

xxx

Andy