Mayfield was feeling quite satisfied with himself, here on this beautiful Friday evening. His service for Sunday morning had been ready and printed off since yesterday. The sermon particularly pleased him, thought provoking yet succinct. Now, with the warmth of the day hardly abated, he strolled around the village, resplendent in his favourite Hawai’ian shirt, cargo shorts and sandals. His sister teased him for being a fashion victim, but Mayfield didn’t really mind. To him it was what the clothes contained, the character and the kind heart, that mattered. He realised, however, that others in the village had different takes on what constituted acceptable clothing.
A prime example, for instance, was young Andy. When Jane had first introduced the delightfully pretty girl as her nephew, Mayfield had been, it has to be admitted, shocked. I mean, you hear about such things, and there are, he believed, even television programmes on the subject, but to come across the phenomenon right here in the village was almost unbelievable. But he’d very quickly realised that Andy was a happy well-adjusted young man who just happened to be, what can be said, successfully feminine. Very feminine.
Even when smiling, Lady Magdelena was an intimidating sight (think of a shark that’s just heard a good joke), and Andy couldn’t help but feel thankful that he seemed to be a hit with her. “What a charming place setting,” she said. Andy was at a loss. He’d merely placed a few plates of canapés (or nicknackeroonies, as his Gran referred to them) on a large side table, but this seemed to make him flavour of the month with Lady Magdalena. He was just grateful that his dear Aunt Jane was to be present. She wouldn’t permit that the flavour of the month be swallowed whole. Belinda, meanwhile, was the recipient of any number of tuts, sighs and rolled eyes.
Then there was Jane. O Jane! What was he going to do? According to dear Kat, Jane ‘fancied’ him. But that surely couldn’t be right. Could it? Jane was so glamourous, so sophisticated and, yes, so very smooth, and slick, and shiny. It was a look which, unaccountably, he liked very much. Very much indeed. Some people might consider it bizarre. Equally they might consider his own present attire slovenly. But, as he’d tried to make clear to his sister, it’s what’s inside that counts. And Mayfield was sure that, under Jane’s glossy, well-polished exterior lay a heart of gold. Just because it sounded clichéd didn’t mean it was untrue. Some might think of her as bossy, but he could tell that she was simply supremely confident. In contrast with Isobel Cooper, who was, indeed, simply bossy. At times her treatment of poor George bordered on bullying, though it had to be said that they seemed a devoted couple.
Jane and Will had set off quite early, intending to be among the first guests to arrive. As they strolled towards the corner of Strawberry Lane, Will, looking stunning in his new tuxedo, had asked, “How long have the Coopers lived locally? Not long, I suspect?”
“Oh,” replied Jane, “if you listen to Izzy, she’ll tell you that she has ancestors who were given estates in the local area by Henry VII. Well, that tells you a lot. The Tudors! Particularly That Tudor! As for George, he makes no secret of his humble origins. Acton, I believe. Left school without qualifications, self made man. I’ve a lot of time for George Cooper.”
Will nodded, acknowledging that Jane could still amaze him. Not so much as a hint of snobbishness.
They arrived at the front door of The Grange, which swung open immediately, Belinda being under the Strictest orders to ensure that guests were admitted as swiftly as possible.
Jane had not wished to miss any of the fun whilst, at the same time, being able to assure herself that Andy was OK. But she needn’t have worried. Jane smiled as she watched Andy go about his duties with all the grace and assurance of a natural maid. Jane had been more than a little surprised at how excited and enthusiastic Andy had been when the subject of spending the day in service at The Grange had been raised. But it had also warmed her heart. With each day that passed, Andy’s natural femininity was becoming more and more prominent. She was, however, fair-minded enough to give Will a share in the credit. Since he and Andy had become an item, Andy seemed to have forgotten how to pout, and now just spent his time enjoying his femininity.
As for Izzy and George, she thought, they simply were who they were. Lady Magdelena and Belinda; and it was possible to discern that neither would have it any other way. In their own way they were, indeed, a devoted couple. Izzy was wearing what Jane recognised as a Cathy Gale Avengers leather catsuit. By comparison with what some ladies present were wearing it was distinctly retro, and not in a good way. However, Jane had noticed how Belinda’s eyes had lit up when Lady Magdelena entered and, as they had stood side by side for a moment, Izzy had taken George’s hand and given it a little squeeze, and had been rewarded with a look of total devotion.
Jane had a lightbulb moment. She saw a pubescent George Cooper poring over photos of Honor Blackman, or even the odd edition of Atomage; she saw how a strong lady in leather might become a young man’s ideal female, one for whom he would happily do anything (suffer anything?). Then, years later, he meets Izzy Hamilton and, to his total joy, she accepts his service.
The first highlight of the evening was a display by Sir Roderick’s Pony Troupe. Protocol dictated that such a troupe be named after its male driver, and such was the case here, with Sir Roderick (AKA Clive Horrobin, a scrap metal merchant from Epsom) putting the four ponies through their paces in both dressage and trap-pulling, whilst dressed in the traditional pony troupe leader’s attire of leather trousers and greasy pigtail. But it was well known that the person with the organisational and pony training skills in the troupe was, in fact, Sir Roderick’s Head of Stables, Baroness Tanya.
Whilst ponygirls weren’t really to Jane’s taste, she couldn’t but admit that this particular troupe was a class above any other she had seen, and a credit to the Baroness.
The village was very quiet this evening, Mayfield thought. Not that there was ever a great deal of through traffic, but there were usually a few people out and about, strolling like himself. He found himself passing the Fullerton Arms, and was suddenly overcome with the desire for a pint of Jennison’s Old Badger Licker. He popped into the Snug and waited until Dick Attlee, the landlord, came round to serve him.
As Dick delivered his pint and change, Mayfield asked, “It’s very quiet in here tonight, Dick. Where is everyone? You’re not usually on your own. The staff all having the night off?” “You could say that,” Dick replied, “It’s the ‘do’ at The Grange. I’m surprised you’re not over there, Vicar, what with you being so close with Lady Jane.” (“Odd,” thought Mayfield, “that people still use Jane’s title when she isn’t present to reprimand them.”)
“Do? What ‘do’ might that be, Dick?” asked Mayfield.
“Oh. Ah,” muttered Dick, wondering if he might have said too much. “Erm, just some sort of Fashion Show or some such, I believe. My Josie’s popped along.”
“Ah, right,” said Mayfield, surprised that Dick might consider him, of all people, a fashionista. But all the while he had this feeling that there was more going on this evening than some of the ladies of the village talking hemlines, or whatever it is that they get up to on these occasions. For a start, the pub was virtually deserted. Where were the male regulars? And there was no sign of Budgie, who by now ought to be setting up his equipment for the Quiz and the Karaoke. The Dining Room and Kitchen appeared to be closed, and, really, would Dick have let two barmaids have the same Friday evening off?
Which reminded him. “Dick, I meant to thank you for giving young Joe a job. It will help them settle into the village so much more easily.”
“JoJo? Kat didn’t give me much say in the matter. Not that I’d have argued. JoJo is just what a landlord would look for in a barmaid and waitress; efficient, attractive, with that little extra.”
The comment was lost on Mayfield as he finished his pint and wished Goodnight to Dick, even though there was still a couple of hours daylight left.
Some of those more intimately involved in the rest of the evening’s proceedings were starting to prepare themselves. Jane smiled as she watched Andy stare fixedly at Josie Attlee, Dick’s wife, as she shed one latex garment (a HotHouse special, made to measure), and donned another, becoming, in the process, a white rabbit. Throughout the process she had remained her usual, vivacious self, joking with Kat and two other young women whom Jane didn’t recognise. Then, the moment she pulled on the floppy-eared headpiece, her vivacity disappeared along with the twinkle in her eye, and she slowly follollopped (another of Andy’s Gran’s favourite words) towards an open cage-like hutch near the wall. She wriggled in, tucked her nose and ears between her front paws, and seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.
Andy turned to Kat. “Is Mrs Attlee all right? I mean, she seems suddenly, I don’t know, erm…” “Don’t worry about Josie,” replied Kat. “This evening she’s precisely who and where she needs to be. She’ll be back to her usual self tomorrow. Anyway, she’ll have Jules and Jaz to keep her company.” Kat nodded towards the two other young women who had made similar transformations. Jules, who worked for the County Council in Guildford, had become a pretty, if distinctly curvy, bright russet latex vixen, and had already received a couple of taps on the nose from Belinda for her attempts to steal from the nicknackeroonies; whilst Jaz, a driving instructor from Frimley Green, was a black and white latex kitten, grooming herself with a back leg behind her neck. Several people had tickled her behind the ears, and had been rewarded with a deep purr.
It was about thirty seconds after leaving the Fullerton Arms, as Mayfield was passing the Village Hall, that a phrase used by Dick came back to him. ‘I’m surprised you’re not over there, Vicar, what with you being so close with Lady Jane.’
Did that mean that, just as Kat had said a couple of weeks ago, everyone in the village was aware of his admiration for Jane and, if he could believe it, hers for him? He pondered this as he continued his stroll, eventually reaching the junction with Strawberry Lane.
Frankly, Mayfield was curious, and he’d never been one of those who criticised curiousity. Something was happening at The Grange this evening, and he wanted to know what. Nevertheless, there was an element of ‘just continuing an evening stroll’ as he turned and slowly made his way down Strawberry Lane toward The Grange.
To Be Continued.............
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And whilst we are on the subject of quality writing, our Dear Mandy Sweet Heart has a new book out, I have read it and it is classic.
Here is but a snippet
Raising the dress until the tailored waistline was seamlessly above his narrow hips, he managed to glide his slender arms down the unfettered sleeves, meandering his arm along until he imagined that the beautiful latex dress was part of him. As he alleviated the slick dress onto his svelte shoulders Sam felt the words his Mistress had spoken to him that morning, and a small tear slowly rolled down his cheek, causing him to fasten the twenty pearlescent buttons that coordinated beautifully with the deep purple upper prior to securing the ten corresponding buttons on each sleeve through blurry eyes.
Forcing himself to think of more pleasant things, he whimsically slipped a lilac flower into his hair and hurried back to their room, where he found his Mistress merely gazing out of the window.
For several seconds he simply peered at her, prior to exquisitely gliding across the room and embracing her, with his arms comfortably around her waist, Sam sighed. “I love you Mistress Victoria, and I promise that I’ll never hurt you.”
Due to the way she was reflecting on the memories of his warm, tender lovemaking, at first Victoria was confused and wondered why he spoke so delicately. She simply rested a hand gently on his latex covered arms and recalled how she had told him about her previous experience and steadily turned to face him.
She laid her lips against his brow for a second, before stating: “Looks like we’re going to be snowed in for a while, so I think you can resume your duties a few days early, Sammy. Starting tomorrow, I want to see you in a titillating weensy uniform and you can start satisfying me as my maid once again.”
Now continuing the Leather theme another new-comer to the blog, though I have been meaning to share this ever since I first saw it Live on Good Morning Britain last year and it features the lovely weathergirl Laura Tobin and a pair of seriously tight red leather pants.
