Lost Baggage
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Un-Excess Baggage free porn video
Just a little something I've been playing around with. I thought about
rolling the story out a little but I've never liked padding for the sake of
padding and anyway, I decided I liked it at the pace it runs at. Hope you
like it too, and, as ever, please feel free to tell me what you think of it.
Thank you all so much for your support, as long as you keep reading I'll keep
writing!
Kindest regards,
Jennifer
Un-Excess Baggage
By Jennifer Richardson.
[email protected]
I watched the ground rushing up to meet the aircraft as we made our final
approach into Manchester International Airport. I was still feeling that
sense of self satisfaction and smugness since clinching my first overseas
order after my promotion to the international sales department. I'm not
saying that I'd blown the clients in Amsterdam away but I knew my
presentation had been good, that I'd certainly made a good impression and
that once word got back my own boss would be just as pleased as I was. After
all, it wasn't every day that the most junior member of a department brought
in a deal worth six figures.
I remembered hearing of the gossip in the department on my promotion. Old
Albert Jenkinson complaining;
"Sean Crosby? That young upstart with the long hair? You can't be serious!"
"And he wears earrings!"
That had come from Jenkinson's partner in crime, the equally quarrelsome and
bad tempered Stanley Marsh.
Thankfully my boss, Charlotte Andrews, known as Cally to her friends which
I'm very glad to say included me, was able to see a little further than what
I looked like and saw my capabilities. True my hair falls well past my
shoulders and I do wear a stud and a hoop in each ear but I always wear
suits, shirts and ties to the office, though granted I'm usually in a bike
jacket and black jeans away from work but away from work I'm not meeting
clients.
The plane touched down and taxied to its designated position. Now came the
worst bit of travelling, the long wait for the luggage to be unloaded from
the hold and processed through delay after delay. As I wasn't in any
particular rush I hung back and was one of the last off. Dressed in T-shirt
and jeans I was a little lightly dressed for the typical wet and windy
Manchester weather and I felt the cold as soon as I stepped out of the
aircraft. By the time I was on the airport bus I was soaked to the skin and
shivering fit to drop.
After going through the hassle of passport control and customs I was in a
foul mood and it didn't get any better during the overly long wait in the
crowded baggage hall. After a thousand years I saw my suitcase coming up the
ramp and had to push through the press of people in order to grab it. As soon
as I had it I fought my way back through the muttering throng and headed out
of the airport as fast as I could. Being soaked and chilled I felt the need
for a hot bath and a long drink so instead of getting a taxi straight to the
railway station at Manchester Piccadily, I took one to the Metro Hotel, it
being the nearest to the station.
There was enough left on one of my credit cards to cover the one night at the
hotel and I had enough cash to see me through an evening meal and a few
drinks in the bar. My rail ticket was already paid for and was safely in my
wallet. So, having checked in and amused the reception staff by dripping all
over the floor I went up to my room on the third floor. As soon as I was
inside I put the suitcase on the bed and wriggled out of by soaked clothes. I
was literally soaked to the skin. I hurried through to the bathroom and
turned the hot tap on, filling it with hot water, while it was steaming I
rang down to reception.
"Hi, it's the drowned rat here, I'm going to dump my clothes in the bin if
that's okay?"
There was a laugh at the other end of the line.
"Sure, go for it, I'll send someone up to dispose of them."
"Thanks, tell them just to help themselves, I'll be in the bath." I hung up
and was soon soaking in a bath filled with bubbles, feeling warm for the
first time in hours.
When I finally emerged I was glowing pink and had a white towel wrapped round
my waist. I noticed that the bin had been emptied and that there was a
complimentary half bottle of wine on the bedside table. There was a note with
it.
To the drowned rat, thanks for the giggle, the girls on reception.
I poured myself a glass and then turned to my suitcase. I had a sinking
feeling when I couldn't get the combination lock open, had I used my birthday
or the office extension number? I tried both and neither worked. Still, if
all else fails there was always the old trick I'd seen a million times in
films. I dug into my shoulder bag and picked out my emergency kit, like
sewing stuff, a metal nail file and a small first aid kit.
It was the nail file that I turned to, angling it into the lock with the
hooked end turning under the bar. There was a satisfying click and the bar
flicked up out of its nook. The second soon followed and I idly wondered why
on earth luggage makers hadn't come up with a better method of securing their
products. Just to prove the point I snapped that bars back in and out again a
couple of times.
I threw back the lid and the modesty sheet and then rocked back on my heels,
hitting the carpet on my behind. Where there should have been a carefully
folded grey suit there was a short red vest dress and the lower I dug the
worse it got. Somewhere in the Greater Manchester area there was a young lady
who liked to look sexy wondering why she was supposed to be wearing a grey
suit. I on the other hand was lifting out enough satin and lace to open a
lingerie shop and enough in the way of tight tops, short skirts and dresses
to open a boutique.
Even the footwear said sexy girl, high heeled strappy sandals, high heeled
court shoes and a pair of ankle high red patent boots that screamed tart! The
only thing that was usable was a black leather motorbike jacket covered in
zips. Even that was cropped at the waist and when I held it up leather
tassels tumbled from the sleeves and across the shoulders.
The top half of the case was no better though there was at least a hairdryer
along with half a hair and beauty salons equipment. There were two skirts
which were a little more modest in length, like they'd maybe meet the knee,
but one was a layer of black lace over red satin and the other was red lace
over black satin. The small jewellery case made me wonder, plenty of it but
not expensive and most was rather gaudy. I had a suspicion that I may have
come to posses the case of a working girl. Maybe she'd been working on
holiday? No, it was clean, so, a foreign girl coming in to work in England? So
my duty as a citizen was to report it immediately.
Like hell, I began to suffer flashbacks.
Flashbacks that haunted me still, every now and again I'd wake up sweating
from a recurring dream. A dream that had never happened but was at least
based on fact. The fact being that from the age of six or seven I'd been
fascinated with my sisters clothes, not just the touch and the look but how
they felt to wear. Being a mere two years younger than her and having a
sister who was a devoted follower of fashion it had been a young
transvestites dream. Not that I knew I was a transvestite of course, not
then, I discovered that word when I was fourteen, from a problem page in one
of my sisters ever so grown up magazines. The same magazines that had taught
me about make up and hair styles and through them and my constant raids on
Samantha's wardrobes I became extremely convincing.
I was never caught, never read, as far as I could tell and by the time I was
away living on campus at university I was dressed almost full time apart from
at lectures and as everyone knows there are precious few of them. After
graduating I'd made the huge step of leaving it all behind me. A ceremonial
bonfire of Sian's huge wardrobe brought a tear to my mascara free lashes.
Sian, my femme self, hadn't only gathered a large wardrobe of her own but
she'd developed a character of her own. Even to the point of going on girl's
nights out with fellow students who to the best of my knowledge never knew.
Whereas Sean can get boisterous after a drink or to Sian was quiet and a
little shy. Sean was articulate and measured in a debate, Sian kept her mouth
firmly closed unless something really needed to be said. Perhaps that was why
Sian was more popular with the girls than Sean was, something that still
annoyed me. Ever since the funeral pyre I'd lived guilt free and without the
nagging paranoia concerning discovery. Now wouldn't the office gossips have
had fun with that if they'd known. I was still wondering what to do when the
faint sounds of my mobile phone intruded my thoughts.
I pulled it out of my shoulder bag and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Sean? Hi, you're back! I just got the confirmations through! You've played a
blinder!"
"Thanks Cally." I said without much emotion.
"Hey what's the matter? I thought you'd be out celebrating?"
"Well, let's just say I've run into a bit of a problem."
"Everything looks fine to me Sean." A note of concern entered her voice.
"No, the contracts are fine, I went over them again and again. Erm, I don't
suppose you fancy a trip up to Manchester?"
"Manchester? What for? It's Friday afternoon, I was looking forward to a nice
weekend off."
"Cally, you're not going to believe this." I told her the story, not of my
past, just what had happened at the airport. I was far from amused when she
found the whole thing hugely funny.
"Isn't there anything in the case that you can, adapt?" She asked when she
stopped laughing.
"Not unless you want one of your department arrested as soon as he steps out
of the hotel."
"So what do you want me to do Sean?"
"Can you bring me a T-shirt, a pair of jeans socks and some trainers?"
"You want me to call at your flat? The caretaker might let me in."
"My locker at work, there's some sports kit in there and a change of clothes.
The spare key is stuck under my keyboard on my desk."
"Okay, I'll ring you back in a minute."
It was a long minute, even longer when I remembered that the was a photo
stuck on the inside of the door. I don't know why I'd kept it really,
sentimental? Better times? I don't know, what I do know is that it showed
Sian draped on an ivory silk sheet at a photographers studio. Hand propping
up her head, smiling into the camera, long legs sheathed in sheer black
stockings and feet in six inch heels. The black silk teddy with its spaghetti
shoulder straps was slashed in a low V, trimmed with black lace which did
little to hide the upper curves of her breasts almost to the nipples. Granted
they were perfectly weighted silicon breasts which were fixed to her skin by
medical grade adhesive but they looked and felt totally natural.
There was now tell tale bulge visible, even though one leg was raised a
little and the other pushed toward the camera. Thighs parted slightly
revealed a very feminine looking profile thanks to the very tight extremely
sheer thong that held everything back between the legs and tight up into the
abdomen. It had been uncomfortable at first, even though there wasn't much to
talk about, but gradually I'd got used to it and even if I got an erection
nothing in the way of a bulge was revealed.
Make up perfect, hair perfect, left hand laying a red rose across her slim
waist and flat stomach. It was Sian at her most glamorous, her sexiest and
she'd down the whole shoot for three hundred pounds and they'd been published
in a lingerie catalogue for a very well known department store without there
ever being an eyebrow raised or a suspicion cast.
It wasn't so much the picture that would cause the trouble it was what was
written on the back in Sian's flowery handwriting. Yes, she even had her own
style of writing.
Sean, you really should let me out a bit more!
Still, it's not such a bad body to borrow!
Love Sian, xxx.
So, I had to hope that Cally would get my things, without looking around in
my locker, without looking at the photo and without reading the back. Then I
would have to hope that she would still bring me my things and not ask any
awkward questions on the way back. How many hopes is that? Too many. The
phone rang.
"Hi." I nearly choked.
"Hi Sean, I've got your things, I should be with you in about an hour and a
half."
"You're a Saint Cally!" I breathed a sigh of relief.
"What room are you in?"
"Erm, 314, I'll ring down to the desk and let them know that you're
expected."
"No, I've a better idea, I'll meet you in the bar."
"You what?"
"I'll meet you in the bar, Sian."
"Cally, what are you going on about?" I tried to think rapidly but didn't get
much passed panic.
"I'll see you soon Sian, just you, not Sean, his job depends on it."
I just sat and stared at the mobile when the line went dead. Then I drained
the complimentary wine and finally raided the mini bar where the miniature
vodka's came in handy. If Cally was going to be an hour and a half I figured
I had a little time to relax and let Sian come out from hibernation. One look
at the hairs on my arms and legs was enough to get me moving. If she wanted
Sian, she'd get Sian, thankfully I had my razor in my shoulder bag and soon
enough all the time Sian had spent shaving arms, legs and everywhere that
needed shaving served as good training. By the time I was smooth all over and
my skin was absorbing the moisturising cream from the suit case Sian was well
on her way back.
I took the hair styling kit into the bathroom and set them to one side while
I plucked and shaped my eyebrows into soft arches. Sian loved doing it while
I was at University, usually when the Sean half was a little worse for wear.
Eventually no one seemed to notice that every now and again a feminine arch
would describe itself across my brows.
I used the curling tongs and dryer to create a mass of corkscrew curls, then
held them back from my face with an Alice band from my benefactors beauty
kit. Then I set to work with applicators, pens, pencils and brushes, watching
Sian appear in the mirror before me and Sean fading from sight. I didn't go
overly sexy in style, the clothes would do enough of that. I kept things as
softly feminine as I could but with a touch of sophistication that was sexier
than sexy in any case.
Just a touch of foundation, then the first coat of mascara to my lashes with
a style of brush that was new to me. It was more of a loop than a brush but
really gave my lashes a lift and a curl, the second coat lengthened them
beautifully. A little eyeliner just at the outside to emphasise shape and
then a dusting of shadows, soft pink at the inner, blended into a bronze
edged with a hint of gold. Lips lined and then filled with crimson then just
a little coral gloss over the top which gave a wonderful softened sheen. A
dab of blush to either cheek, no more than a touch, then a light powder to
finish and remove shine.
Then it was nail time, first my toes, then my fingers. Coral pink for both
sets of nails, I only wished there had been some false ones in the case. I'd
often let them grow a little long, just so Sian could manicure them. In this
event I had little option than to go with what I had, not a lot, so once the
first coat of coral pink had dried I painted them with a clear sparkling
gloss.
From the case I selected a black lace suspender belt, a black satin thong and
over the thong I slid into a pair of black briefs with lace trim which were
cut very high on the thigh. I was pleased to see that the thong trick still
worked. No silicons to fit into the under wire black satin bra, still,
there's a trick there too. In my first aid kit was a pair of surgical
gloves. Filled to the cuff with warm water and whirled round a bit the water
fills out into the middle finger. Tie the cuff off as you would a balloon and
you have a perfectly weighted bouncing breast. Granted there is a slight risk
of them bursting but in a padded bra the risk is lessened and an under wire
provides them plenty of support.
Once I had my stockings on I turned my attention to accessories, bracelets
for each wrist, larger hoops in each ear and a gold coloured rope necklace.
In this case it was definitely less is more, had I gone with much more than
that the word slut might as well have been tattooed across my forehead.
I stepped into a black velvet body with lace trim to the plunging neckline.
Most of my shoulders remained bared but at least the bra straps were covered.
I hate seeing bra straps on show when a girl is still wearing her top. Once
the top is off I don't mind seeing them at all. I chose the red satin skirt
with the black lace overlay and settled it about my waist and hips. There
wasn't a belt that would go with it that I could see, so I was a bit
concerned that my waist wouldn't be defined, from the chest down I looked to
flat and straight edged. I solved the problem by using the sash fastening
from a gold coloured wrap, loosely tied it looked ridiculous. Wound round
twice with the ends tucked in just on the skirts waist band and it looked
much better.
Last but by no means least, shoes, it just had to be the high heeled court
shoes and once in them all the old sensations of stretched muscles, different
way of walking and deportment in general came back in a rush. I opened the
wardrobe door to look at my reflection in the mirror mounted on the back of
the door. Sian smiled back at me, slipped the Alice band from the hair and
the curls fell in long corkscrew tresses. That was it, ready for anything, I
packed a clutch bag with cosmetics, eyed the tasselled leather jacket and
giggled. What the hell. I slipped into it and added Vamp to the descriptive
words that could have been used to paint the look.
Size wise whoever owned the suitcase and I weren't too far apart. I guessed
that I was a little taller, she was bigger across the chest, hips wasn't much
different and I was a little wider in the waist. Shoe size was a different
matter, the heels nipped but not overly, though, depending how long I was
going to end up being in them it might get a lot worse.
My throat bothered me a little, though I had never had any trouble when out
before I was generally in places where I was known or at least recognised as
a regular or with people who never commented that my trachea might have been
a little more pronounced than it should have been. The only thing that might
have done was a four strand pearl choker. I wasn't keen but it was better
than nothing and there was the advantage that it squeezed my throat enough to
give my voice a softer breathless tone.
All set for the off, but perhaps just one miniature bottle of brandy then,
for Dutch courage. I downed the bottle in one go, picked up the clutch bag
and the key card to the room and closed the door behind me before I could run
back in.
How did I feel going down all those stairs, that's right, the stairs, when
you're back in heels after any length of time going up or down stairs is the
quickest and easiest way to get used to them again. By the time you get to
the bottom or the top you're moving easily and a lot more nicely. As to my
feelings? Well the ones I didn't like were worrying about how Cally would
react to seeing me in the flesh. Frightened of her making a huge scene about
it. Fear that I'd trip up half way across to the bar or give myself away with
some stupid action or other.
As for any others? Those that I welcomed and enjoyed all over again, that
sense of vulnerability, the feeling of the clothes upon me, of being who I
appeared to be. Nervous anticipation, of being free from the threat of
discovery by someone who knew me. Cally had found out so there was no longer
the threat. The way the high heels made my legs appear longer and slimmer,
the way my boobs jiggled when I moved. It was, at that point more than it
ever had before, the feeling that there wasn't anything for me to feel guilty
about any more and that the good things out weighed the bad ten fold.
I crossed the lobby without incident though I knew I had attracted attention.
I felt no fear from the attention, I welcomed it and used it to fuel my
confidence. When I caught the smile on the barman's face I knew it wasn't a
smile that was a precursor to laughter, his smile was a reaction to him
having seen something he liked the look of. Something fluttered around in my
head for a moment before I recognised it for what it was.
Freedom, I sensed it and seized on it. With little time to prepare, in
clothes belonging to someone I didn't know and was never likely to meet. In a
strange place in front of strangers I had passed with flying colours and
nobody could take that away from me. Whatever that saying is about out of
adversity?
Well I figured Sian had found her place in the world and regardless of what
happened in the next few hours I was never going to lock her away again. I
came to understand that she was an important part of who I was and it might
well be that she was the greater part of the whole. Certainly Sean could
learn more from Sian than Sian could ever learn from Sean, after all, she's a
much nicer person. And all that in the short moments it took me to reach the
bar, perch on a stool and order a white wine and soda.
Cally was a fashionable twenty minutes late and I cursed myself for not
having considered the notion.
I waited for the pointing finger and the explosion of laughter. Waited for
the screaming denouncement, waited for the slap to the side of my face and to
be sacked on the spot. She smiled, leaned over and kissed me briefly on the
cheek and whispered.
"You're beautiful."
At least I didn't fall off the stool. I saw that she'd come straight from
work, still in her tailored jacket and skirt, white body beneath the jacket.
"Will you be okay here for a minute while I go and change?" She asked with a
smile.
"I'll be okay, I can't exactly go anywhere fast at the moment can I?"
She took my key card to my room and she was longer than a minute but it was
worth it. When she came back into the bar her long brown hair fell straight
to the middle of her back, short white mini dress clinging to her beneath the
long black raincoat.
"Ready?"
"Ready for what?"
"Dinner." She said simply and smiled again.
"Where?"
"Anywhere, anywhere we can talk, rather you talk and I'll listen."
We ate in the hotel dining room in a corner booth where we were largely
undisturbed except when we wanted to be. I began at the beginning, which is a
pretty good place to start, as I spoke I became more confident that she
wasn't just pretending to listen. I found myself talking about feelings and
emotions more than just the dressing, Cally prompted me with gentle questions
until I finished by repeating the events of the day.
"As soon as I mentioned my locker to you on the phone I knew I was in
trouble." I ended.
"When I saw it I wondered what you were doing with a lingerie shot of your
sister. I thought it a little unhealthy. You do look very much as if you
could be a female twin to Sean, though you don't look like Sean at all. If
that makes any sense. Anyway, when I read the back of the picture it didn't
click for a moment and then it was just me thinking, well, no, it can't be,
but at the same time I was convinced that you and Sean are one in the same."
She smiled brightly, "That's when I knew that I just had to meet you."
"So, where do we go from here? Or rather, where do I go? I suppressed my need
for so long, now that my hand has been forced I know that I was wrong to
ignore who I am. I know it sounds like I'm talking about split personality,
like I'm schizophrenic or something but it isn't like that. Sian, is Sean's
feminine side. It just so happens that it's developed far further than most
men ever allow." I tried to explain but knew I hadn't made a very good job of
it.
"If I had walked into that bar without having seen the photo I would have
thought that I was looking at a girl who had a hint of Sean about her, no
more than the briefest hint. As soon as you smiled Sean disappeared and you
were, well, you."
"So, do I resign?"
"What the hell for!" Cally exclaimed.
"Well, if it got out that, well, you know."
"Who knows? You and me. That's as many as will know, unless you're going to
turn up for work in a skirt suit and announce yourself to the department."
"So, I just carry on as normal?" I asked, half stunned.
"Sure, but I want to spend an awful lot of time with Sian." Cally reached
across the table and gently squeezed my hand.
She smiled at my look of surprise. The way I was reading it was that she was
coming on to me.
"I've got two questions for you Sian, okay?"
"Okay."
"One, are you gay?"
"No, I'm not gay."
"Two, are you planning to undergo any surgery?"
"No, I'm transvestite not transsexual. Why do you ask?"
"Just making sure that I'm not wasting my time Sian. I swing both ways and I
want both of you."
"How about me tonight and Sean in the morning?" I giggled.
"No can do, I didn't bring his clothes, brought mine and a camcorder though.
Sean can wait until we get home on Sunday evening." She laughed at the look
on my face.
"Sunday?"
"Sunday, I rang the hotel before I set off, told them who I was and that Sean
would be leaving in the early hours but I'd like his room for an extra night.
You know how hotels are when it comes to business accounts? They were only
too happy to make the arrangements. So, shall we take a bottle of wine up
with us Sian?"
Our affair was interrupted three months later when Cally was promoted to a
directorship based at the London office. Around the same time Sean resigned
and soon after Cally took on her new PA. The PA stopped the office dead on he
first day of work, the black motorbike jacket was hardly the regulation
office wear after all. Oh, and the show of cleavage on display was entirely
natural though she still wore a very tight fitting thong.
Alessandra
- 16.01.2023
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