Tranford Tales - Russell

CHAPTER 1

It was a picture of a pretty young woman smiling in a cheeky way. She was wearing lovely lace panties with a bar across her boobs giving the size and style of the contents of the packet.

I kept it in my drawer with the panties, so that each morning she would be smiling up at me as if to say "You naughty old man!"

"You do love your panties!" said my wife Barbara, as I helped her out of bed and to the toilet.

"I love you more," I said.

She said it was such an innocent thing, a man in lace, in the privacy of his home. And it really was nice for me - I don't know why. Sometimes I went a bit further and wore a lovely slip, with lace around the bust and at the bottom, intended to be just glimpsed under a dress, of course. I had nothing to put in the bust, of course, and a bit of a bump at the front of the skirt. I had several pairs of self-supporting lace stockings which Barbara had bought me. I sometimes wore them under my trousers when we went out. (With ankle socks over.) I had a lacy blouse, and plain skirt, but as it was at home I didn't wear the skirt, just the underslip.

I didn't wear makeup or want to be a woman. Not even to go out in a dress. (Well, maybe just a little, but that was impossible.) I just loved lingerie.

She was a wonderful wife, and it had been a perfect marriage. Three lovely children, and five grandchildren. I was still pretty spry, and Barbara was fine apart from her legs these days. We had a wheelchair, but it was a bit of a palaver getting down the stairs from the flat, so we didn't go out that much.

For years I had basically treated her as a doll, encouraging her to get pretty clothes, especially underwear. I still did. It was no hardship for me helping her to get dressed. She could have managed by herself.

I suppose that gave her a clue to my interest. She was surprised, but eventually said she didn't mind if we liked the same sort of things. It was easier when I retired, of course, but I had to be sure I was decent to answer the door, and particularly when we had visitors such as the district nurse, our family or friends, so it helped to be warned.

"Tracy's coming today," she said. "Just her. She wants to talk about something. Good news she thinks."

I was disappointed not to see my youngest granddaughter, but our daughter, or any of our offspring, are always welcome. I made sure I was decent (but I always had my panties).

"I think I've found you a place," Tracy explained. "It's not far from us, so we could pop by any time. You could see a lot of Tess. It's a ground floor flat - wheelchair ready, in a new development."

I said I wasn't keen on housing estates.

"No, it's fine. It's a former village, with a little shop run and an old-fashioned pub. Lloyd took me there to see what they did for meals."

She winked at her mum, and I suspected a conspiracy.

"Anyway, it were a nice pub and with good food, but Lloyd got right upset, because he said there was men in dresses. I think they're what you call transgender. He said it ain't right."

"Your Lloyd? Too kinky for him?" said Barbara, looking surprised and amused.

"Anyhow, he went into the shop and I saw a ground floor flat for sale with a phone number, and took it down. Lloyd were even more upset when he come out. Said there were a man serving, wearing a sari!"

Both women were sharing some kind of joke.

"So when Lloyd were out, I rung the number and got the details. They do have trannies there, but the flat's made for wheelchairs, and I thought with your legs, Mom, and your dresses, Dad, it'd be ideal."

"What d'you mean, my dresses?" I said, rather worried.

"Mom told me. You like to wear her knickers and stuff. You could probably go out in a dress there if you wanted," she said, with that mischievous smile that made her so cute as a little girl.

Come to think about it, the girl in the drawer looked a bit like her.

"You told her?"

"Well, she told me about Lloyd, first," Barbara answered.

"So I told her about you, to encourage her, otherwise they might have broken up. She plays along and it's fine."

I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but still asked.

"What about Lloyd?"

Both women were grinning conspiratorially.

"I have to discipline him! I had a hard time keeping a straight face at first, but now I'm his mistress and he loves it. We had to cut back a lot when Tess came along, but we still manage a bit, and he's so grateful, you wouldn't believe!"

"Mom said men are so funny about sex," she added. "They take it so seriously!"

It turned out it had been planned. She would drive us to the place, which was called Tranford, then we could stay the night in their spare room. That's why she had come alone, or we couldn't have managed in the car with the wheelchair.

The estate was nice and flat with a row of modern houses, then the shop, the pub and the community centre. A new development was underway with some low-rise flats, one of which had the sign up.

The shop had a sign saying Mr and Mrs Patel.

"It's like that shop near us in Birmingham," said Barbara. "Go and have a look inside, you two. No need to bother with the wheelchair."

My darling daughter had a better idea.

"No let's take the wheelchair to the flat, so we can see how far it is."

We parked the car, and went to the shop. The door was wide enough and there was no step. Inside we were greeted by a big man in a sari. He had lipstick, but the stubble of his beard was showing.

As he greeted us and we said we were interested in the flat, I heard the unmistakeable Birmingham accent.

"There was a Patel's on Wellington Road, in Birmingham," I said. "Any relation?"

"My Mom and Dad's," he said beaming. "I might have seen you as a boy. You don't sound like a Brummie."

(He said 'like' as loik.)

"I'm not, but my children are!" I said.

We had been told to go to the community centre to see a plan of the site. Inside we were met by the caretaker, a man named Bernie in a smart female working outfit. He explained what had been done and how the village would develop.

He hesitated.

"You've probably noticed I'm a man in a dress, but are too polite to say anything. It's very a quiet and respectable place, mostly couples, but not everyone confirms to what they call gender stereotypes. It's not a gay village, and there's nothing outrageous going on. There are men who are men and women who are women, but some a bit more variable, in a place where nobody minds, that's all. Everyone's welcome. Just if you're thinking of moving here, you should know."

We thanked him and said we had no problem.

It wasn't far to the flat, and Barbara said she could manage it herself in the chair, but Tracy said they would have to get an electric one somehow. It was a two-storey building like a house, but made into four flats with the ground floor ones being wheelchair adapted.

Barbara checked she could use the toilet and the kitchen equipment by herself. It had been very thoughtfully designed. The cooker was set at wheelchair level but could be adjusted for someone to work standing, as could the work surfaces. We agreed it was brilliant.

The pub had just opened when we got there, though they said that food would start in a while, so we just relaxed and chatted until it was time to order. I was pleased to get a pie, peas and mash, while Barbara had a cheese omelette with salad. A decent traditional lunch menu.

The first customers were some men from the building site who called in for a quick drink, and a few had a pie or something. Then the local residents started drifting in, and both groups exchanged friendly words. It was the sort of pub atmosphere you don't tend to get these days. No piped music, no TV going, just gentle chatter over food and drink by a mixed group of people. Perhaps the women dressed up a bit more: floral dresses rather than slacks, which was nice. Possibly some of the women were or had been men, and maybe some of the men were or had been women.

What really got us was the friendliness and ordinariness of it all. It was the same outside, as people tended to their gardens or went to the shop.

On the way to Tracy's, I wondered what Lloyd would say about us moving there among these transgender people, and she laughed.

"Nothing! Don't you get it? I'm his mistress. He's gotta obey me. It's quite fun sometimes!"

We went back to her place and had a lovely evening with our granddaughter, then the morning, when she had gone to school, Tracy drove us home.

CHAPTER 2

I won't go into the hassle of selling and buying a home, just to say that we finally moved in and got to know the neighbours.

We were welcomed with a party in the community centre - mainly soft drinks and food. Most of the women were in very respectable but nice dresses which looked good. I was in my best suit. We hadn't mentioned my interest.

We were introduced to Liz, who had made many of the dresses, and offered to either make clothes or do alterations for Barbara. Liz's husband was also in a dress, and was introduced as Sophie, who was a nurse and part of the local medical practice where we had been advised to register. She (or he - Liz always referred to my husband, or he, it didn't seem to matter) had a weekly clinic of a couple of hours, but would could be called at night in an emergency. They welcomed older and disabled people, and she expected to give more support in future.

Generally it was a mixed group of pleasant people, nicely dressed at a party.

But I could hardly take my eyes off Bernie. He was going around serving food and drinks dressed as a maid with a flared skirt and lots of lace above and below.

My interest must have shown, because he came over and whispered "Come with me."

We went into his flat at the back.

"How do you like the outfit, Russell?" he said proudly, turning and moving to show it. "I love lace."

"Very nice," I said, unsteadily.

"You fancy it, don't you?" he continued. "Takes one to know one."

I couldn't answer.

"Let me show you something else."

He led me into a bedroom. There hanging up was a beautiful dress, all pink and lacy and frilly.

"You can have something like this, if you want. Just ask Liz."

He held it up against me, and I looked at myself in the mirror.

"I won't suggest you try it on, because it won't fit, and I do like clothes to fit properly."

"Just think about it," he said as we went back to the party. "We're what they call sissies, you and me, so it'll be nice to have someone else who appreciates it.

I told Barbara when we got back.

She had been talking to Bernie's partner, Hannah.

"Hannah says this is one of the most prim and proper places you're likely to come across. Just faithful couples and good friends. I think I'm going to like it here."

"So let's go for it, just not a French maid, please! We'll go and see Liz."

It was one of those conversations where two people talk about you as if you're not there. (As often happens to people in wheelchairs. People talk to me instead of Barbara. Now it was the other way round!)

"What does Russell like?" "What sort of things does he do?" "Do you think he would..."

It was agreed that I would like something lacy and feminine, but tasteful. And it was about time I wore a bra. Actually, I had often wondered, but thought it was a step too far to ask.

From Liz's patterns we (they) selected a below the knee dress with broderie anglaise on the bodice, and lace detail on the skirt, plus a nice lacy underslip. The bra was embroidered of course and there were removable pads.

The dress was made and adjusted, and I was marched out of Liz's house down to the community centre, where Bernie was waiting in a frilly blouse and smart skirt, which he lifted to show me stocking tops and suspenders. He was wearing moderate heels, while I was in flat court shoes. I wasn't particularly interested in women's shoes, but Barbara insisted I needed them if I was going out in a dress. I hadn't tried heels, and we thought it would be safer not to, when pushing the wheelchair, as I could easily turn my ankle.

Off we went to the pub where we had a lovely evening and people complimented us. Liz had carefully made Barbara a similar dress but in complementary colours which people said was rather fetching.

I cannot say how happy we were. The children bought an electric scooter for their mum, which she can manage, so she can shop and socialise. We have the wheelchair at home which she uses for cooking and such, but she seems to be a bit better getting around with sticks and the grab handles.

Since I don't have to push a wheelchair, Barbara insisted I learn to wear heels, and I've got used to them. It's OK and now I quite like them, though I can't say why.

I also have a sort of princess dress which I keep at Bernie's, so sometimes I go round there and we have an evening together in our finery, while Hannah and Barbara spend time together. Or Bernie comes round to me and we have a lingerie party. We only wear our very special dresses at Christmas or other parties with friends. (Our ladies insist in putting on makeup for us for such occasions, but not every day.) I think we have encouraged a couple of the Tranford Wives to dress more frilly on such occasions. But we both enjoy our underwear and dresses with lace at any time.

That reminds me of a very special moment.

Shortly after I got the princess dress, Barbara helped me with hair, and put on a bit of makeup, and I was just walking around in high heels feeling great, when the doorbell went. Barbara went and came back with Tracy.

I was embarrassed, of course, but she told me not to be, just walk around and show myself off. She was mainly amused, of course.

"Oh Dad!" she said "I'm so glad you're happy! You make a wonderful sissy!"

"Take a look at this," said Barbara, lifting up my skirt.

"Ooh, sexy!" said Tracy. "Stockings and suspenders! And such lovely lace panties! You naughty old man!"