Chapter 3 – This could work, you know!

As I walked back from the Care Home the adrenalin that had built up all afternoon finally dissipated from my body and I realised my mouth was bone dry after the long monologue I had performed and the nerves I had endured. I needed a beer. I knew I was still at least 10 minutes from Susan’s house and another 10 before I got to my flat and I wasn’t sure I could wait for either.

Just then my attention was drawn to a sign above the venue on the corner of the road beside me. The Basement Bar. I knew the place well, or at least knew of it because I had never visited it before. It was known locally as a hang out for the LGBTQ community as it was close to student accommodation for the local University and was a safe haven for those still fluid in their sexuality. These may be changing times but not many pubs in Glasgow would be safe or comfortable for a man dressed as a woman to drink alone in. This Bar was the best available to me and my thirst only encouraged me further to enter the place where I could slake it.

Having been dressed as my sister for over an hour now I was feeling a little less self conscious as I pushed open the bar door and stepped in. I could see people seated around the room and a couple of people stood at the bar. A few eyes turned to look at me but didn’t seem to stare or linger longer than usual. I stepped up to the bar and the barmaid smiled and said “Hello. What can I get you?” I wanted a beer but for a moment I wondered if that was too manly an order. Did I really want to change to a white wine or a gin and tonic. I gathered up my Susan voice and said “A lager please” and watched as the girl took a tall glass and filled it with the cold golden liquid my mouth craved.

I thanked her for the drink and paid with some coins I had thrown into my handbag along with my wallet. Then I went and sat at a table with my back to the general crowd. I felt self conscious and didn’t want to sit where I could be seen or where I could see everyone else. I was there just to quench my thirst. I had my handbag on my lap when I felt someone approaching me. The footsteps came close to my back and then seemed to stop. I instantly regretted my decision to sit facing inwards and tensed myself for what was coming next.

There was the sound of someone bending down and in my peripheral vision I saw a hand reaching down to the ground. “Excuse me” a voice said “I think you dropped this?” I turned to look at who was speaking to me and saw the barmaid holding a small lacy handkerchief I didn’t recognise. I signed in relief and smiled. “Oh, thank you, dear. It must have slipped out when I was getting the money out my bag” I said and duly deposited it back inside.

She smiled and said “You’re welcome. At the Basement Bar, everyone is welcome.” She looked at my glass. “Are you ready for the rest of your pint?” I glanced down at my beer and was shocked to see half an inch remaining in the glass. My initial “sip” had clearly been a more manly gulp than I had intended. I nodded and said “please!” and she said “I’ll bring it right over. Lifting the glass to sup the remaining lager I smiled as I saw the lipstick smear I had left on the rim.

I gave the barmaid a note for the next beer and she brought back change. Table service was unusual in a Glasgow pub but then this was not your average Glasgow pub. I began to gain a little courage and confidence and started to look around at the décor of the place I had found sanctuary in. It was modern and yet traditional, spacious and yet cosy in atmosphere and although instead of images of male sporting heroes on the wall, there were stylised images of Lady Gaga, Madonna, Cher and Marlene Dietrich showing the venue’s gay credentials. I had noticed a Rainbow flag behind the bar and copies of “Out” magazine in a dispenser available for purchase.

The second glass of beer lasted longer than the first. For the first time since I had put on my skinny jeans and high heels I was feeling like myself again. I was relaxed. My decision to present as my sister at the Care Home seemed to have worked like I had hoped it would and despite the stress and apprehension I had felt, I actually enjoyed the visit. I realised I would have to work on a script for the following evening, although I also understood that whatever I said was likely to have little effect on my mum other than a soothing balm of a familiar voice.

I checked my watch to see what time it was, only to be met by the smile of a fixed ten to two reminding me the watch was purely for effect. I knew I needed to get on my way so I drained my glass and stood up to depart. The barmaid smiled and said “Thanks – come back anytime!” and I nodded and said “Thank you!” as I understood why so many LGBTQ people would make such a supportive and accepting place their local. I turned towards Susan’s house and walked along the pavement feeling the slight chill of the evening air. I made a mental note to find myself a little jacket to wear on my next night out.

At Susan’s house, I took off my heels and removed my wig before washing my face clean of the make up I had applied. I removed the jewellery I had worn and returned it to the box they had come from. Likewise I emptied the handbag and left it in the wardrobe where I knew I would retrieve it again tomorrow. I was going to leave the clothes at Susan’s house and wear them again but decided it might look better to have a different outfit on and I was sure there was more in my lockup that I could put on. So I changed into my Angus clothes and folded the female attire and placed it back into the bag they had come in. Then I secured the house once more and walked the remainder of the trip back to my flat.

I slept like a baby that night. The relief of having successfully impersonated my sister and placated my mum cheered me greatly and helped my body and mind relax in a way it hadn’t for some time. I woke late the next morning but my answering machine showed no missed calls and my e-mail inbox was still as empty as before. I decided today was not going to be spent chasing non-existent work. Instead, after a lat breakfast I wandered down to my lock up in search of a new outfit.

I was really just looking for a different coloured blouse but I couldn’t see anything that fitted correctly and then came across a body-con dress in red with a pair of red high heels and I chuckled to myself. That outfit is just SO Susan! She would wear that in an instant – in fact she probably had the same dress in her wardrobe. When I found the accompanying red jacket I started to think seriously about that evening. The jacket was cropped length but very stylish and I knew that, even if I decided not to wear it to the Care Home, I wanted to see myself wearing it.

Pantyhose were a staple of the manikin display package. White limbs were transformed with the application of a pair of 20 denier tights and helped set off any outfit. I had multiple packs in the lock up and grabbed one for my use before bringing the whole ensemble back to the flat.

My desire to see my reflection had be stripping off and putting on the dress as soon as I was back inside and my body tingled with excitement as I wriggled into the dress and admired my new look. Yes I could do with a slightly larger posterior to be completely believable but for this evening’s use, the outfit was beautiful and sufficiently Susan to have any memories in mum’s head rekindled by the image. I knew the beige handbag wouldn’t really go with the outfit but felt sure Susan would have a red handbag in her collection or at least a black one that I could use. I glanced at my fingernails and held them against the dress. Yes, the shade of red didn’t clash so I could keep the existing polish on. Maybe do a little repair work on a couple of nails later – I’m sure my hands would be steadier this time around.

First thing I wanted to do however was shave. My legs looked a little hairy through the tights and my arms were far too hairy with a dress that had only half sleeves. Mother’s eyesight may be fading but her hands could still feel and any hand on my arm or leg would reveal my true identity if I didn’t address the issue. I pondered buying a hair removal cream from the chemist but knew I was too well known there to avoid raised eyebrows from the sales staff so I went into the bath with my safety razors and shaving cream and prepared for a long and meticulous shaving session.

Once I had dried myself off I tried on the dress once again and pulled the tights up my now hairless legs. The sensation was incredible. The material of the dress against my smooth skin felt wonderful and the nylon against my legs was positively orgasmic. I found myself tenting my underpants and knew I couldn’t risk doing that later this evening so I hunted for the smallest underwear I had which could constrict me enough and keep me relatively smooth up front.

I glanced at the clock and gasped. It was 3pm already! I had been so immersed in how I looked in the red dress I had totally forgotten about eating lunch. In a few hours I would be back at the Care Home and I still needed to do my make up and get my jewellery and so forth. I would need to make sure I was at Susan’s earlier tonight so that I had more time to prepare and not be in the same rush as before. I would have changed at home but Susan had the make up and perfume I needed as well as the accessories I wanted to wear. I wondered if she had a nice broach I could put on the lapel of the jacket. It might set it off. Oh and I wonder if she had a choker necklace? The neckline of the dress would allow one – a nice gold one would suit beautifully.

I really wasn’t hungry so I just grabbed a granola bar and had it with a black coffee. My mind was too full of my preparations for the evening’s visiting at the Care Home and what I would wear. Once more I packed the holdall I had used the night before with the clothing and shoes, making sure they were not being crushed – I didn’t need to look like I had just slept in the outfit! Mum probably wouldn’t notice but the staff would and I would be mortified if they thought I wasn’t taking care f my appearance!

It was an hour earlier than the previous night when I left the flat and headed for Susan’s house. I was determined that I would not be stressed like I was 24hrs before. I was going to prepare calmly and thoroughly this time and arrive at the Care Home on time and in a calm demeanour this time around.

There was some mail on the doormat when I entered Susan’s house which I added to the pile in the lounge before heading for the bedroom where I emptied the holdall and hung the dress, and set out the red heeled shoes I would be wearing. I sat at the dresser and began to work on my make up. My brows looked a little bushier than they should be if I was to be truly feminine looking so I took a pair of tweezers and began plucking at the hairs. It was agony and my eyes watered, slowing the process, but I thought that the thinner line I had left looked far more authentic.

Once I had the make up completed I stared at my face and realised with a gasp that I had omitted a key ingredient the night before. Susan wore earrings and last night my ears were naked. I became frustrated. My ears were not pierced so there wasn’t a way I could wear any of my sister’s collection. Then I remembered my niece had begged her mum to let her pierce her ears from an early age and she had relented until she was nearly 12. I am sure she compromised by letting her wear clip-ons for a while. I got up and headed for Alice’s bedroom.

Alice’s room was that I would expect of a typical teenage girl. Lots of make up, jewellery and fashion clothing and a choice of shoe style that would rival her mother. Girls mature quicker than boys of course and are far more aware of their appearance at 12 than boys are at 16 – or at least they were when I was that age! Alice was what, 14? 15 now? I couldn’t remember but she was a young woman and I only hoped she hadn’t thrown out her old jewellery from her younger years.

Thankfully, Alice is a hoarder like her mother. At the back of a drawer was an old jewellery box with bright coloured bangles and hair clasps as well as a selection of clip on earrings. I pulled through them looking for something that was adult looking and found a pair in a small plastic bag. They appeared to have been bought shortly before she had pierced her ears because there was no sign of wear – they retained functioning clasps and were in excellent condition.

I opened the packaging and held them up. The clasps were hidden by a cubic zirconia stone beneath which hung gold coloured teardrop earrings with tiny faux diamonds around the base. They were cute and when I put them on and felt them gently tugging on my lobes, I fell in love with them. I placed the empty bag back in the jewellery box and returned it to the back of the drawer it had come from. A glance at Alice’s bedside showed me that I was only an hour from when I needed to be at the Care Home and so I returned to Susan’s room to complete my make over.

I took the same watch as the day before and placed it on my wrist, added the bangle and ring I had also worn and then set about looking for a chain for my neck. Susan didn’t have a gold one but I remembered seeing one in Alice’s collection so I went back through there and borrowed it. Being made you’re a young girl it was small enough to act as a choker chain on my neck and once I put on my dress I realised it looked perfect on me.

I touched up my nails and then secured my wig in place and brushed it until I was happy with my appearance. Actually, I was more than happy with my appearance. I was loving my appearance. I felt vibrant, attractive, stylish, desirable – the very things I had never really been as Angus. It was a revelation to me that I could look this feminine. I had worked with female orientated retail outlets over the years but that was work, that was me showing my talents at presentation and design. It could have been any product in the window – and in many cases it was unrelated to fashion. The reflection in the mirror was changing how I perceived myself and it was a strange feeling.

I went to the wardrobe to look for a red handbag and my eyes caught the beige one from the night before. I remembered how mum reacted to it with recognition when I told her it was the one she had bought. She remembered the store she had got it from. That was one of the few positive moments from my time with her during visiting hour. I held it against my red outfit and turned from side to side. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t look so far out of place that it couldn’t be used. I decided its merits as a memory for mum outweighed its colour and I opened it up and dropped my personal items inside as before.

A glance at the clock and I realised I needed to get going so I spritzed some perfume on myself once more and made for the front door. Damn, I was going to find a broach for the jacket lapel, I remembered as I caught my reflection in the hall mirror. I was about to head back but stopped myself. “Tonight you are going to be calm and on time, Daphne” I told myself with a smile as I reset the alarm and locked the front door behind me.