A Vintage Happening free porn video

Note. I would like to thank everyone who has commented and encouraged me with their reviews of my other stories on Fictionmanina. I would also like to say a huge thank you to Robi for taking the time to proofread and edit this for me. A Vintage Happening. By Trish. Apart from being a nurse there was not much about my best friend Lucy's life that could be considered typically feminine. Losing her mother as an infant, she had been brought up by her back street mechanic father and it showed in her interests and public persona which reflected her upbringing rather than the gender expectations of society. Instead of dolls, as a child Lucy played with engines and knew how to weld long before she learned to sew! Although a little out of the ordinary this boyish upbringing in itself was nothing unusual. Most single fathers bringing up a daughter alone tend to do the same, and any gender-identity issues usually sorted themselves out at puberty which mostly they did for Lucy. She understood that she was a girl and accepted it, even though she did not like it any more than she liked society's expectations for her! Perhaps if she had been blessed with a petite body, silky hair and an attractive face Lucy might have embraced her femininity instead of feeling uncomfortable about it. However being tall, well built and quite boyish in her manner and appearance she felt conflicted against the ideal of femininity that all Geordie women are expected to aspire, which from an early age she saw as demeaning! This uncertainly about how she should behave made her neither the most confident nor self-assured of people once you got behind her 'bolshy' public persona. Although Lucy enjoyed the pressure and responsibility of casualty nursing when it was mad busy, she never felt any real job satisfaction from the day-to-day routine of hospital life. Nursing had not been a vocational choice for her, and she admitted to me on more than one occasion that she had only trained to become one to please her dad. He had always wanted her to follow in her mother's footsteps and it was not until after he died she felt able to do something about her job dissatisfaction. I was doing a fine art masters degree at Royal College of Art in London when we met at some function or other. Lucy was half way through a part- time engineering degree at UCL, while still holding down a full time job at Charing Cross A&E. Since we were both something of outsiders in our groups we ended up chatting, and from that we became close friends. Although we were often mistaken as being involved, we never reached the point of 'seeing' each other as students and remained simply good friends. Oddly, we remained just as close even after I graduated and moved up north for a job as an exhibit illustrator with the museums service in Cumbria. Eighteen months later, Lucy graduated top of her class with a first class honours degree in mechanical engineering. Full of hope about getting her dream job with an F1 team, Lucy got interview after interview but found that even with her unofficial apprenticeship and history she was considered 'inexperienced', which to me sounded daft. I knew she was a dammed good mechanic having seen her restore for the fun of it a couple of old motorcycles and an old Morris Minor along with keeping my ten year old heap of a Ford roadworthy! Since Lucy saw herself as inexperienced she almost accepted it until she heard a year or so after she graduated that one of the least practical lads on her course had got a job she had not even been offered a second interview for because of her supposed lack of practical experience. At last understanding that she was getting knocked back just because she had a pair of tits incensed Lucy, and for a while she turned into a real man- hater. Oddly it seemed I was exempt from her rage at men, although I did have to put up with her moans, complaints and fury. Unwilling to surrender her dream she kept applying for auto engineering jobs, even though every rejection had her spitting feathers about the unfairness of being a woman. I guess I had been up north about three years when Lucy's luck abruptly changed in a big way - she won the lottery! Not having a clue what to do she turned up on my doorstep at 2am, and in the ensuing weekend long conversation I eventually convinced her to forget about trying to get into the race and performance world. "And do what?" Lucy said. "What you are good at?" I grinned telling her that it would be shame not to continue her family's tradition in the mechanics business by specialising in what I felt she was really, really good at which to my mind was classic motorbike and car restoration. Naturally she would not have been Lucy if she did not throw up every obstacle and reason why she was bound to fail, but I ground her arguments down with a big stick weighted by eight million quid. My argument was simple with the funds in her pocket she did not have to make a profit and eventually she capitulated. Not that there was much capitulation in it when she suggested having slept on it to keep the trading name her Grandfather established in the 1930's. "Ron Owens Restoration Mechanics. Sounds good don't you think?" Lucy chuckled down the phone. "Now where do I start?" Having sold my water colours since leaving college I at least knew the basics of running a small business, and pointed her in the direction of the small business advisory service and the rest kind of took care of itself. Lucy might not have needed to make a profit but she wanted to, and her eye for a project set her in the right direction. Being both meticulous and rather anal about detail, the quality of her work soon began to attract attention. Playing heavily on her BSc, she initially specialised in gearbox refurbishment to 'earn a crust' as she put it while she restored her first couple of cars. Within six months she was out growing her first workshop on the edge of town and after much looking we eventually found a derelict highway garage on the edge of the Mendip hills. At one time before the motorway and the nearby town bypass it had been on a main route to the coast and from the moment I saw the place I knew it was ideal, but as usual Lucy took some convincing before she saw it's potential. By this point we had been living at opposite ends of the country for long enough to have both blundered into a couple of relationships, which usually ended with one of us calling the other in a right state. I can only speak for myself, but after the pain of finding out my last girlfriend was shagging her boss I decided that I would better off on my own and concentrated on my painting. During this, Lucy had been my constant telephone companion, as I had been hers when she split with a guy called David. As we had at university we drifted into taking each other out when we needed a partner, and at sometime during the flurry of finding the garage we became a couple long before we got sexually involved. With money not being a problem Lucy went mad on the buildings restoration. Finding a building contractor through English Heritage who specialised in 20th Century buildings, within three months of buying the place the workshop side was nearly ready for business. To any passing drivers the old Highway Garage might have looked immaculate with it's 1950's (hand repainted by me) advertising hoardings, brand markings and restored neons but the house around the back was still a building site. It took the builders another two months to finish the house, and one weekend over my dinner table, just before she was due to move in, we were chatting about decorating when Lucy said out of the blue. "You could always quit living up here Ronnie and move in with me." "Eh?" "Well," she grinned, "You're always moaning about your job, and not having a studio and I was thinking the old forecourt shop would make a good studio cum gallery?" Lucy suggested as she refilled our glasses of wine. "Maybe." I dubiously grinned. Even though it was an attractive idea I valued the freedom to paint when I wanted that living alone allowed, but with all the funding cuts and structural changes at work Lucy was right in saying I was as sick of my job as she had been with nursing. "Well think about it." She grinned, quoting to me something I had said to her the weekend of her lottery win. "Because I'm getting bloody sick of you moaning about work." "Sounds familiar?" I grinned back. "Should do." Lucy said with a laugh rolling her tones, "Hell, you've been sounding like me lately." I nodded as she added changing the subject, "Now what colour are you going to get the decorators to do the dining room?" Around the same time the first inkling that something was amiss with the public perception of Lucy's business came up. At first it was the odd phone enquiry for 'Ron' and some junk mail but during the flurry of moving into the house Lucy forgot about it until a fancy letter arrived addressed to 'Mr Ron Owens' Owens Restoration Mechanics,' High Moor, Mauston Weld, Somerset. The letter contained a very formal invite to join the prestigious Vintage Car Club and distracted by her glee at being invited Lucy did not put two and two together even though it was addressed to her grandfather and already had his name printed in the box. When she decided to keep her family's business name neither of us realised that Lucy's insecurities were making her hide her gender behind her grandfather's name and when the invite popped through the door neither of us spotted it, even though we joked about the gender assumption. I can only guess Lucy filled in the acceptance form and misread the directions before commenting. "Want me to stick you down as well?" "Whatever." I nodded, truthfully more interested in making our dinner in the kitchen than Lucy's fascination for anything remotely involved with engines. "Hey now this looks fun." Lucy said showing me a poster for this year's club rally at the Biggin Hill Air Show. "Want to see if we get accepted?" "If you want." I nodded stirring the sauce. "I could use a kick up the arse to finish the Humber." Lucy said ticking the box on the form. One of the first projects she'd found almost two years earlier was an ex- RAF Humber ambulance that had seen service in the Battle of Britain. Unlike most of her projects Lucy had taken her time over the restoration as she intended from the start to use it as a company advert. "I'll give that Pete Boyer a ring. He's into the classic car rally scene." Lucy met Pete a couple of months after she moved in to the highway station and was still living in the workshop. He was with his wife returning from a rally in Cornwall when the 'sick' electrical system on his Triumph Gloria Southern Cross finally died outside Glastonbury some 50 miles from his home. Calling out the RAC, the roadside assistance man mentioned that before he relayed them home they might try 'Ron Owens', a new place that specialised in old cars. Emma (his wife) recalled that Ron Owens Restorations were the people who restored the Sunbeam they had considered bidding on and told Pete to give them a call. Technically Lucy was nowhere near being ready for this sort of business as she was waiting for the suppliers to come in and install a rolling road and the rest of the MOT required equipment in the old showroom. Even so, when the RAC man called and explained the problem Lucy said, "Sure bring them up, and I'll see what I can do." That night when Lucy phoned to tell me about her first 'break down' I could tell she had hit it off with the owner, but we were both astonished when we saw the glowing review of Owens in Emma's humorous account in Classic Rally magazine about the journey home. That one article opened the door into the mainstream classic world and generated enough provisional enquires to fill the diary for the servicing bay due to open sometime in the autumn. All this was nice for the business, but for Lucy personally the invite to join the Vintage Club still topped everything. I liked Pete when I got to meet him. He was dropping off a Volvo P100 that he wanted Lucy to restore for his wife. "Hello, you must be Ronnie?" Pete boomed squeezing my hand in a firm handshake. "Just dropping a P100 off I've found for the Memsahib." "I would have called it a Simon Templar car." I grinned, "Yes I'm Ronnie." He was in his mid forties and came across as an affable car nerd, with a touch of the mad scientist about him. (He paid for his classic car collection as a research director for some pharmaceutical company.) Build wise he was not much taller than my 5'7" (five foot seven), but he was much broader, with a big shouldered rugby player going to seed physique including the obligatory squashed nose that fitted in with his neatly kept goatee beard and cropped, receding hair. His unusually self-mocking sense of humour (for a short arse ex-rugby player) made him a good laugh over a pint and before long he became a friendly acquaintance. Even though I really liked him there was always something about Pete that never quite rang true to me. I even mentioned this feeling to Lucy, who's nursing experience, meant she had to have recognised his true origin but she never let on that she knew he was transsexual until he told us when he first stopped over. To say I was surprised would be an understatement but it was not the mind boggle I thought such a revelation by a friend would be. "Just thought you should know since I was stopping over." Pete said hesitantly. I sat there, gob smacked with my jaw on the floor, while Lucy just shrugged. "I was a nurse at Charing Cross Pete," and started asking medical type questions about, who and where oversaw his transition. "I didn't know that?" He said, open enough about it to answer Lucy's questions and once he realised that nothing had changed he joked. "Sorry to drop it on your heads like this folks, but the memsahib insisted that you should know... Bloody woman!" Lucy burst out laughing and added with a grin at me, "I've said the same about him often enough Pete," and from then on Pete's genetic gender ceased to be an issue. Intellectually I understood but no matter how hard I tried I simply could not imagine Pete as a woman. Other than his height there was nothing remotely feminine about him. His revelation and subsequent overnight stop had one major side effect, it forced Lucy and me into sharing her bed. I will never forget the image of her collapsed on top of me that first time with one eye open gasping. "We should have done that years ago, love." "Yeah!" I nodded lost in the fluffy post orgasmic place as Lucy said in a dreamy voice. "I never knew it could be like that." I was a bit surprised when I found out that she had never had a man go down on her before, or felt the joys of an orgasm that was not self- induced! It gave me a sense of giddy delight about being the one who had shown her the joys of sex, which still had me smiling when I went back to work. Although somewhat shy, I did come from the art student world where bed hopping was the norm, and being more sexually experienced than Lucy, for the first couple of months when it came to the bedroom unusually it was me leading the way. Although delighted by the discovery that sex could be fun Lucy had also totally bought into the obsession for winning rally rosettes. From a business point I could understand her motivations, a Vintage Motor Club rally rosette was something she could exploit for advertising but, to Lucy, winning a rosette meant much more. Although she could not explain what drove her desire to win one, Lucy set her heart on it and like a leach she picked Pete's brain dry. At first she was interested only in the practical. Like how strict were the judges and scrutinisers when it came to non-standard military modifications and modern reliability improvements. Very was the answer to that, which sent Lucy into a frenzy of searching out or making all the missing bodywork fittings. Rushing to finish the Humber it did not occur to Lucy until Pete explained over a can of beer and an England friendly Rugby match that to win a rally award (which Lucy coveted) rather than a class award it was important to get the all the easy rally points available by wearing authentic period dress, and wooing the judges with an impressive lunchtime picnic. For most of her life Lucy had avoided anything remotely like fancy dress, but hearing how period costume was encouraged at most classic rallies. Lucy realised that she would have to put up with it and, as she had caught the bug, she had every intention of taking the Humber to a few events over the next year or so. Mulling it over it with Pete he told her it made sense in the long run to buy a couple of outfits if she intended going to more than one rally a year. "At a hundred and fifty quid a time you'll end up paying a small fortune in rental fees mate?" That made sense to Lucy, and scanning the Internet and her extensive collection of reference books eventually decided to order replicas of an RAF sergeant driver's uniform, and a 1940s military nurse with all the accessories. As the outfits were made to measure (which resulted in a giggly night of measuring each other) I guess I should have known something would go wrong when Lucy said she had phoned the order through the following morning while I was doing her supermarket run. Typically she left it to the last minute before she actually ordered them for us from the supplier Pete recommended and I'm guessing that as she rattled off our sizes over the phone she forgot to mention that the woman was the hulking six-footer. "Oh bugger!" Was Lucy's reaction when she held the nurses dress against her body when we unpacked the outfits the day before we were due to leave. I was looking at the sergeant's uniform jacket blankly; it was miles to big for me! "What we going to do Lucy?" Both uniforms had come with all the period underpinnings, shoes and all the accessories including a styled brown wig for the nurse's outfit. Holding the restrictive looking corset thing that came with the dress against me Lucy smiled her daft smile, which had me looking at her in alarm. I could see where she was going. There was no way the nurses uniform would fit her, and I did not have to guess what that meant! "You have got to be joking." "Why?" Lucy said. Having spent over ?1300 on the uniforms she wanted to use them, and added with her eyes alight. "I'll bet you a pound that you'll look good in that nurse's dress. Give you a layer of 40's style make-up and the wig, I doubt anyone will notice that you're really a bloke." "It will never work "Course it will." Lucy grinned her face igniting with glee, "And we won't look so stupid either." "Stupid?" "Yeah," she nodded, "I'm 6'1, and you're 5'7. I knew all along there would be bit of a conflict in heights but looking at that dress even if it was my size, I'm not sure the cut would fit me. I'm a bit bulky to get away with such a form fitting bodice and that nipped in waist... forget it." Since she went self-employed the physical side of her job had made her abdominal muscles iron hard as Lucy's physique bulked up until she was about as muscular as a woman can get with out resorting to directed weight training and steroids. This had changed her body shape and even I could see that wearing the short-sleeved dark blue dress, the puffy white elastic edged cuffs that went over the dresses sleeve would make her forearms look like Popeye's! We both tried the sergeant's jacket and I knew I was sunk when it fitted Lucy perfectly. Grinning at me via the mirror as she examined her reflection, she declared. "Well if I'm wearing this, then it looks like you're wearing the dress!" After a little arm-twisting over a bottle of wine Lucy eventually extracted my reluctant agreement. I managed to get her to agree to the proviso that if we thought we looked stupid we forgot the idea. I knew we would be able to get an outside opinion on that, because Emma (Pete's wife) was 'doing' us for the rally. Being honest I did not really believe we would be able to pull it off; I was a bloke for god's sake! Pete and Emma arrived early in the afternoon the following day. Lucy was out doing another 'final' check of the Humber, when the rumble of his 'fighter pilot' MG-TB drifted through the kitchen window while I was making us a few sandwiches for the 140-mile drive. "They're here." Lucy called as she beat them to the door. "Already?" I could hear Pete's grin in his voice, as Lucy cheerfully herded them into the lounge, saying, "Pretty much, other than tools, and a bit of a problem with our outfits." "How come?" Pete boomed, "Hoskins don't unusually make mistakes." "Me, probably!" Lucy laughed, as she explained the costume cock-up. "Hey Ronnie," Pete called into the kitchen as he collapsed expansively on the settee, "Come meet the Memsahib, Emma." "And?" An unfamiliar woman's voice said, as a slender dark haired woman walked into view and smiled at me, but before I could say hello, Lucy blurted out her unusual solution. "So we're going to swap outfits." Looking at Emma absorbing what she had said, Lucy laughed reading her expression, "You don't have to tell me Em. I know I'm a total fuck wit? But what do you think? Can it work?" "Might do I guess..." Dressed casually in shorts and a tee shirt Emma gave me a wink and said watching me busily making a pot of tea, smiling "But there's no point in crying over spilt milk so we'll just have find out. Now what size is the dress?" "Dunno. I gave them the measurements and they sent these." Lucy said, shrugging. "I'm guessing it will fit him since the sergeant's fits me so well." "Okay." Emma mused, "Assuming that's the case then we've properly fitting clothes, now let me see." I glanced over and saw Emma's eyes sizing me up, before she added with a faint smile. "You know Lou I think you two will look rather good." She glanced at Lucy then back to me, "There will be the right height contrast and you're big enough to pass as a bloke once we hide your boobs, man up your face and pack out your pants." "What do you think Pete?" She asked her husband, "Give her a 'tache, get the hair greased back and do something with the eyebrows?" "Yeah." He nodded, "Lou's got the build, Em." "And I'm sure," Emma laughed to them, "That with a little effort I can make the most of Ronnie's slender figure to get him looking equally good beside you." "Please do!" Lucy grinned, as I blushed. "But it ...?" Emma said with a question in her tone. "Will be easier than the other way round!" Lucy quipped. "I didn't say that..." Emma grinned, walking towards me, changing the subject as she said, "Here let me help you with that." It was the first time I had met Emma face to face and she did not fit the image I had built up. I knew she was some kind of journalist and to hear Pete talk about the 'Memsahib' it was very easy to envisage her as a bit of a gorgon and she was anything but that. Slightly shorter than me, Emma was perfectly proportioned and under her shorts and tee shirt she had the sort of body that put many women half her age to shame. Giving me a long-suffering look of understanding when she saw the oily, black hand print on the freshly painted wall by the door she shook her head saying. "Hello I'm Emma, and you must be Ronnie?" "Hi." I smiled, shaking her hand. "Oh I like that!" Emma said nodding at the clip-framed watercolour on the wall, "Where did you get it?" "Oh that's one mine." I said airily, "Sunrise a Castlerigg Stone Circle near Keswick," and before I knew it we were propping up the kitchen units chatting like old friends. "Oh dear, just look at them." Emma whispered watching Pete and Lucy earnestly discussing what tools they should take. Not having had time to test run the Humber properly Lucy was fretting about breaking down, while Pete was philosophically nodding and adding items to the ever growing list. It was clear within minutes that Emma did not understand Pete's passion for tinkering with old machinery any more than I did Lucy's, and I had to laugh and agree when she added. "Don't they make such a song and dance out of the simplest of things?" Emma's affectionately mocking dry comments about her husband and Lucy tickled my sense of humour and I knew long before the pot was empty that we would get on just fine. Continuing our getting to know each other chat, Emma started wrapping the sandwiches I had been making when they arrived, and I guess we had been talking for about half an hour when Lucy and Pete sidled off, prompting her to ask as we packed the cakes and egg custards I had made the previous evening towards the picnic. "So what do you think of numb-nut's idea then?" "I think its stupid and I'll look like a guy in drag." I shrugged, "And if I didn't know how useless Lucy can be I'd think I was being set up." "What makes you say that?" Emma asked with a grin. "Lucy doesn't wear dresses!" I lightly laughed, "When she told me what she was ordering she moaned like hell about not being able to find a women's uniform with trousers." "I did wonder about that when Pete said she had gone for a nurse's uniform." "I put it down to habit," I laughed, "You know Lucy is a trained nurse?" Emma shook her head. "Well she is and I was kind of looking forward to seeing her in a dress for the first time." I blushed a little as I added, "And now it looks like she's the one getting to see me instead!" "And how do you feel about that?" Emma asked cautiously. "Don't know." I shrugged, "And at least she's agreed to forget it if we look stupid, which I think we will, but what the hell it might be a laugh." "That's the spirit!" Emma grinned, "But don't do yourself down honey because you're cuter than a lot of real women out there." She patted my hand and said lightly, "And now I've had a good look at you I don't think either of you'll look stupid." She giggled, and patted my hand reassuringly. "I'm not sure I like that?" I half smiled uneasily. "Why not?" Emma said, "You're physically quite feminine for a bloke to begin with." "Oh thanks." I said pulling a mock hurt face. Emma clarified what she meant, advising me to look at it as a holiday from myself before I laughed. "Sorry just teasing," which got her somehow talking about body language and sub verbal cues, none of which I understood. Since Pete and Emma arrived around two, gods knows where the next three hours or so went before we eventually hit the road. With Pete's red MG in the lead, and the RAF ambulance trundling along behind our little convoy attracted a lot of attention as went down the motorway at a steady 45- 50mph. Worrying about her barely run-in engine Lucy instead on regular breaks to check things over and make minor running adjustments. This normally would have been the work of minutes but wherever we stopped we drew a small crowd, and it was clear from Pete's interaction with people that this happened all the time. Other than having to reset the points on the way the Humber performed flawlessly, although we did arrive much later than planned. It meant rather than the slap up sit down dinner we originally planned, the four of us had to make do with fish and chips washed down with a quick nightcap after we arrived. It was 6.30 am when Emma got me up, and an hour before Lucy stirred. Emma was going to be wearing a WRAF uniform and was already mostly dressed by the time she started on me. It was an extraordinary experience and when she was done I felt bloody strange and sickeningly turned on by the new sensations. The feeling of having my legs encased in dark stockings which pulled alluringly on the straps hanging from the pink corset thing that was erotically cutting me in half, felt weirdly enthralling. Around my chest I was wearing a padded bra, which filled out the front of my nurse's uniform with two taught mounds, whose outline gave me a peculiar thrill when shaped by the full white apron that covered my pale blue dress. Fussing over my face Emma gave me the perfect 1940 look, and when I asked where she learned to do this sort of make-up. Emma told me how she had learned period make-ups as a student in the amateur dramatics society, which got me talking about my time at the Royal College of Art as she picked at my eyebrows. Emma spent a long time on my make-up and when she was done my skin felt heavy and alien, and yet it was also oddly nice. Even my nails had come in for some treatment. Looking at my hand sporting 10 scarlet nails I could not believe that they were my hands, as they looked like they belonged to a girl... To the sensation of Emma fussing with my hair I could not take my eyes off myself as she grinned, "See how the red matches your lipstick?" In a way it was quite scary to sit there and watch in the mirror as Emma changed me from an unremarkable young looking bloke into a surprisingly pretty girl. The artist in me was attracted enough to ask her to explain what she was doing even though it was giving me the collywobbles! The final nail in the coffin came when she set the wig in place and affixed the nurse's cap. The deal was if I looked stupid we forgot it, and no matter how hard I tried there was no way I could say I looked stupid as I gawped dumb struck at my face in the mirror. "Stand up and face me," Emma giggled adding, "Lucy?" Blushing I slowly stood watching my body slide past in the small dresser mirror before turning to face her. Stood by the door Emma whistled though her teeth nodding as she gave me a grin saying, "Well what do you think?" "Bloody hell! That can't be me?" I gasped at last able to look at the full length finished item. I did not look like a Kate Moss by any stretch of the imagination but neither did I look like a bloke in drag! "Well it is." Emma grinned, "And my did you come out better than I ever expected." She gave me a wide smile and asked, "So what do you think?" "Oh?" My eyelashes felt weird when I blinked sensing but not seeing the presence of the false eyelashes and lots of mascara. "Yes... I think... I'm gob smacked." "Oh yes indeed!" Emma laughed, scenting me with perfume spray saying. "Carry on fluttering your eyes like that Luce my love, and you'll pass fine, because you might not be a much of a Ronald but my god do you make a pretty Lucy!" "Oh!" I blushed, "Do I?" "Say that again but raise your tone at the end of the sentence." I did as she said, and over the next twenty minutes Emma found a tone, and intonation that she decided sounded right and told me to talk like that. At the same time she had me parading up and down in front of her, until I got the hang of walking with the 'wiggle' she wanted. Being honest it was all rather fun, and a bit of a giggle as I practised sashaying while saying, "Hello", "I'm Lucy," and "Where is the ladies?" Pulling a face she gave me a longer more assessing look, before adding. "You know what I said yesterday about not looking stupid, well trust me you don't and the only way you're going to get read is if you give yourself away." "Give myself away?" "Yeah, be it with body language, forgetting to talk in that sexy lilting tone or whatever... remember what I said about taking a vacation from yourself?" I nodded. "Well try thinking of it as a role-play where you're the Lucy in the mirror. The sort of girl who lets her boyfriend," she stressed the pronoun. "Take the lead... Okay?" Embarrassed but turned on about how looking like I did made me feel. I nodded, and carried on practising as Emma directed me this way and that. As I practised I watched myself in the mirror and, weirdly, for the first time in my life, I kind of liked how I looked, which really twisted me up! Although it was a little sickening to accept, I could not argue with the little voice in my head telling me that I did make a much better looking woman than I ever did as a man! The sensation of looking like a woman got even stranger when the real Lucy knocked and walked in wearing the 1940 man's uniform calling, "Ready for me Em?" I looked at her astonished, under the shirt and braces there was no sign of her breasts, and although facially looking nothing like as convincing as me, she still looked more like a muscular nineteen year old lad than a 30 year old woman. Considering how I felt Lucy appeared to be very comfortable with how she looked, well she did until she caught sight of me. Her eyes almost popped out of her skull as she gasped, "Oh Wow!" I could almost hear the thud of her jaw hitting the floor as she babbled, "Ronnie?" I blushed, and nodded, pensively biting my lower lip. "Yugh!" Lucy unintelligibly nodded gazing at me in amazement. I blushed all the brighter when I became aware of Emma's approving job well done look when Lucy picked her jaw up off the floor. Without seeming to move she pulled me into a quick kiss. "Mmm lovely?" She said tasting my lipstick when she broke the kiss. Holding me in her arms for a couple of seconds she just looked at me before saying, "My god love, you look fantastic." As she openly gloating at my startling change of appearance, which made me blush all the more as I stuttered. "Do I?" Lucy grinned at my voice and said hungrily, "Oh yes!" "You sit!" Tossing a towel over the mirror Emma snagged Lucy's arm before she had time to carry on. Glancing at me via the mirror she said, "Fix your lips Luce," as she began transforming Lucy's face. She did not have to do much really just lowering Lucy's eyebrows with a cosmetic pencil, faking a little beard shadow and fixing a clipped RAF moustache between her lip and nose. Smoothing the moustache on to Lucy face, Emma nodded and said. "This will stay put for about twenty four hours unless you use the removal agent." Emma was as finicky with Lucy's hair as she had been with mine as she Brylcreamed her hair back and said, "What you think Luce?" She grinned at me "Hunk, or hog?" "Hunk." I blushed, as Emma yanked the towel from the mirror. "Hun? ... Cool!" Lucy forgot about what I said, when instead of her usual reflection she saw a man facing her in the mirror. For about twenty seconds she sat there gawping at herself moving her head this way and that. "I don't believe it?" "Lou... Meet Ron," Emma grinned, "Luce's boyfriend?" Giving her reflection a toothy grin, Lucy abruptly stood up and snared my waist and laughing. "Mmm you smell nice..." she spun us both to the full- length mirror and seriously kissed me. Her moustache tickled making me half squeal in surprise as she mashed my lips with hers. Grinning after Emma said, "Ahem?" Lucy whispered in my ear. "You know this is like a dream come true... don't you just love it sweetheart?" "Erm?" I blushed feeling the stickiness of my lips... "I don't know." The thing was I did know. I just could not admit that our reflection sent a shiver of right coursing through me, which really conflicted with the huge this is wrong sensation I got from looking like a woman in the first place. "You'll do. Now remember what I said," Emma lightly laughed, waving me to fix my lips again like she showed me. "After kiss, fix my lips or the one about vanity is good?" I tried to joke opening the little compact mirror and the lipstick. "Them as well," she grinned, "But I meant about public perception." I could feel Lucy watching me fuss with a little compact mirror and lipstick with a grin of astonished delight which left me feeling decidedly embarrassed and scarily turned on by now. I liked seeing Lucy looking at me with such delight, and I had never known her to be quite as bright or as scarily attractive as she looked just then. Thank god Emma had got me to wear a tight panties because on top of the weirdly sexual thrill from Lucy's reaction to seeing how convincingly feminine Emma's had made me look, I felt like stars were exploding in my head. We might have only been sexually involved for a couple of months but I could tell from the passion behind her kiss that she wanted to toss me onto the bed, and shag me stupid. I really enjoy it when Lucy gets aggressive in bed, and having been the one so far in the sexual driving seat having her kiss me like that was beyond wonderful, before the enormous turn on of being dressed and feeling like I did kicked in. This turn on that was made all the more powerful by how peculiarly right I felt beside this new masculine version of Lucy. Still trying to come to terms with the new feelings and sensations that assailed me I was given no choice in the matter when Emma passed me my light fleece jacket and hung a handbag over my shoulder saying, "Put the lipstick and compact in your bag Luce. I put your money and a few bits and bobs in for you." "Thanks?" I croaked apprehensively. "Right then," Emma grinned, "Remember you're on a holiday from yourselves, now Pete should be kicking around reception so off you go and I'll see you both at the tea tent by the start in half an hour or so." "Half nine?" Lucy said glancing at my watch, which now adorned her wrist. Emma nodded waving at the door as she started on her make-up. Chuckling, "Ready?" Lucy took a breath and opened the door. Driven by the delighted grin plastered on Lucy's face, I felt myself shaking as I forced myself to move as she led me from the room. The cosy corridor that had felt so homely when we arrived last night now seemed intimidating and scary enough to make my guts feel like they had turned to water. Strangely considering I was completely crapping myself, my already tight panties were getting even tighter with every sensual step! I was scared stupid and not only because of our transgender deception. Alarmingly everything about how I was dressed, felt intensely sensual. The feeling of swishing skirts, the tightness of the under-slip Emma had used to restrict my gait to a feminine pace, airiness of my legs, the controlling restriction of the corset that gave me a pronounced waist to tie my apron round and the sound of my clicking raised heels was all so sickeningly nice. The result was I clung on to Lucy's arm feeling like I was going to go bang with either fear or arousal. I felt so sure people would burst out laughing the moment they saw us but none of the guests we passed batted an eyelid beyond a curious 'who are they' look or two. The three flights of stairs did little to calm me and I froze when we reached the doors to reception. I could feel Lucy tensing when we beheld the busy foyer full of period dressed guests. Reminiscent of leaving the bedroom Lucy took a breath and whispered into my ear. "Relax love, it's going to work," and pushed open the doors guiding me towards the desk as she looked for Pete. As she handed our key in, a yellow-bibbed rally marshal intercepted us asking. "Hello, are you Pete's friends?" "Aye we are?" Lucy said, mimicking her father's deep Newcastle tones. When the man nodded and looked at his clipboard she said helpfully, "Y'am Ron Owens, and this is," I felt her vibrate with pleasure as she confidently said. "Wor Lucy, an' we're with wor 39 Humber Light." "Pete asked me to look out for you." He grinned ticking us off. "He's just moving his car so Mac can get out... I expect this seems a little crazy." "Aye tiz a bit." Lucy said, asking where we had to register. Standing beside her, I smiled and kept my mouth shut, while Lucy shot the breeze about 'our' Humber and the day's events with the bloke for a few minutes. Fidgeting with my handbags shoulder strap, I was intensely aware of the other forties dressed people milling around us whenever I felt the odd curious eyes falling on us. God it was awful to just have to stand there beside Lucy, who seemed oblivious to the people, as she continued to talk with the marshal. Asking about this and that with increasing confidence I felt the tension that had filled her at the door ebbing from Lucy's body as she settled into being 'Ron.' It was something more than relief when it occurred to me that even though we were in such close proximity to strangers, no one was laughing or hiding their faces. I could not believe it; our deception appeared to be working! Not that my heart noticed as it was still pounding in my chest. It was hard to believe the marshal could not hear it thumping, since his eyes spent enough time on my chest! Silently begging Lucy to get me out of there, my purgatory lasted for perhaps ten minutes, before she said with a brief shake of his hand. "Cheers Mike, tell Pete we'll see him later," before she led me towards the exit. Breathing a sigh of relief when she opened the door for me I felt some of my tension ease as we walked into the bright midsummer morning. "Lucy." I hissed, the moment we were out of earshot of anyone. "They think you're me." "Yeah, isn't that what we wanted?" She grinned, clearly enjoying herself, "Good in't it!" I wanted to scream, "No not really," until Lucy whispered delightedly in my ear as we walked down the drive. "We're getting away with it... Lucy," She chortled, "And did I tell you that you look hot as hell in that uniform love?" Her chortle deepened as she snickered, "Wow, did you see the way Mike that marshal was ogling your tits?" I blushed, and stuttered, "Yes... and it was not very nice." "You should have said love and I'd have planted him for you!" Lucy laughed, "After all a man's got to protect his 'woman's' honour!" Her good humour helped and over the clicking of my low-heeled lady's shoes I could hear the delight in her tone, as we quietly talked about how we felt. Well in truth Lucy talked and what she was saying sent strange mixed up shivers of pleasure that began to ease my fears of being discovered. All I can guess is Lucy's burst of unusual self confidence was because there is nothing like the taboo surrounding a woman dressing as a man like there is for a man looking like a woman, allowing her to escape much of the angst that filled me. What we were doing felt wrong, and I was sure that if anyone saw through it we would be publicly humiliated! Lucy clearly did not feel any of that as she cheerfully stomped along with her arm clamped firmly round my corseted waist chortling about how free she felt to express herself. It felt nice to be held like that, and doubly so because Lucy was usually not one for public gestures like holding hands and the rest. Since Emma had also given Lucy the pep talk about playing a role when 'manning-up' her face I knew what she meant when she laughed. "You know I expected to find it hard, but back there it felt almost easier than as myself? Weird eh?" Her encircling arm squeezed me lightly as she laughed into my ear, "You know love if this uniform, and back there, is anything to go by, then I think I'm going to really like this crossdressing lark." Dressed in her blue uniform Lucy did look impressive and her gait had a swagger that I had never seen in her before, although being truthful during the walk to the registration tent I was too terrified to really notice. Even though I knew the uniforms and how we looked, fitted, every time we saw someone I still felt like I had a sign round my neck declaring 'drag queen', which had me blushing and blanching left right and centre. I would not be lying if I said that I was close to vomiting with anxiety when Lucy found the registration van. Whispering, "Chill, love it will be cool," she clamped her arm round my waist and strolled in saying in that same gruff Newcastle accent. "Hello, we're Owens Restoration with the 1939 Humber Light Ambulance." "Well, well a Humber," The decidedly plummy sounding registration marshal said cheerfully, "We've not had one of those for a while, jolly well done." "Now let me see Owens?" Mumbling as flicking though a box of cards he suddenly said. "Ah yes... Here we are, Mr Owens?" He produced two name badges emblazoned with the Biggin Hill Classic Rally sign. "Ron and Lucy is it?" "Yep that's us," Lucy nodded having to suppress grin as she was handed the one named Ron. "Oh... We're not married yet?" She said noticing the Lucy Owens on the other name badge. Sliding her free hand down my back she gave my bum a warning squeeze, which halted my unvoiced addition before she passed me the Lucy badge. Oblivious to her silent warning the Marshal passed Lucy a window sticker, route map and check point card saying, "Your name badges are also your air show passes so don't lose them, and you are entry 106." Rattling off the list of categories Lucy had entered he added, "Oh and I see you've teamed up with Pete Boyar for the picnic lunch?" I wanted to tell him that he had made a mistake. To object to his leering look and patronising tone but I could not make myself as I pinned the 'Lucy' badge to my nurses dress with a blushed smile. "Aye that right." Lucy nodded, "Luce has done the cakes." "Has she now?" The bloke said giving me a worrying look. Recognising what sort of look I was getting Lucy gave my waist an encouraging squeeze as the bloke added. "Excellent I shall look forward to it!" His eyes went from my chest to my face and back again. "Emma always puts on a fine spread and I'm sure my dear your cakes will only add to it." I knew he expected a response from me and just about managed to whisper a blushing, "I hope so." "Depart is at 10.30am, have a good day, and I'll see you at the picnic old chap." The guy said holding out his hand grinning, "I'm Joshua Middleton by the way, Club secretary and one of the rally judges." "Thanks." Lucy said gruffly giving his hand brief squeeze, "Please to meet you." before glancing at me and saying. "Ha' way love, I want t' check wor oil before we start." We were hardly out of the tent before Lucy suddenly stopped and gasped still in Geordie. "Now that pet, is a thing of beauty!" "Like her do you?" The owner said removing his helmet with a smile. "Hard not to." Lucy said, "It's a '1933 AJS factory TT racer, with the optional clubman road package... Wow they only made 20 of these." "Very good." The owner said with a note of surprise, thrusting out his hand adding. "I'm Geoffrey Blake by the way, club chairman." "Ron, Ron Owens." Lucy said shaking his hand. "Oh you're Pete's chum, with the restoration business?" "Aye, tha's us." Lucy said giving me a squeeze, "Me and wor Luce." Having been wrapped up with my own issues and worry's since the cock-up with the uniforms I had not considered how Lucy would feel if she made a convincing bloke, which she did. Her somewhat angular face, muscular body and height helped but there was something else, less definable about her that registered as male on that all-important first look. Added to that was the way the clothing had somehow empowered her, because there was none of the usual uncertainness she showed when mixing in a new environment. "What's with the accent?" I whispered once Lucy stopped lusting over the bike and we were well away from anyone. "Same as you're doing with that sexy come to bed tone you're using." Lucy whispered with a squeeze in her normal voice, "Pete suggested it would work to hide my feminine intonation." Chuckling lightly she slipped back into Geordie to add, "And dressed like this 'pet' it feels kind of canny?" "Pet!" "Aye... Pet." Lucy laughed, and said, "Come or we'll be late?" I know from the photos I saw later that we made a strikingly convincing couple stood waiting for the marshals to come to check over the Humber. With Lucy being six inches taller than me there had always been a little and large quality to photographs of us in the past, which was absent with me looking like the girl and Lucy the boy. Being in the company of the other owners we avoided talking and did not need to past, "Hello." As the half dozen queuing with us were either as anxious as we were, or more likely fascinated by crews preparing the Spitfire and Hurricane fighters not fifty yards away on the other side of the fence. Being more attuned to male body language than Lucy I picked up the 'approaching crumpet' vibe long before her when the marshal checking the paperwork and the driver in front of us heads both tracked in unison. Oblivious Lucy just stared into the distance, and although it embarrassed me like hell I had to give her a prod to remind her to ogle at the passing group of scantily dressed 'brolly-dolly' girls who would be doing a photo shoot at the start line. Once she was ogling I waited until the guys knew she was watching with them before coughing lightly and giving her a pointed look of disapproval that earned 'Ron' a bloke-to-bloke understanding smile from the genetic guys. The bonding thing of the shared ogle and the blokes stifled but amused by my in-character reaction made the checking of our documents a mere formality. The light bloke to bloke banter almost caught Lucy out but with a couple of prods and faint nudges I managed to orchestrate her on cue smiles and laughs with them. "Mr Owens?" The taller of the two examiners said holding out his hand. "Aye." Lucy said shaking his hand ignoring its somewhat oily state. "I'm Ron, and this is Lucy." "I'm Frank Mortimer and this Bob Richards." He nodded at his companion, who glanced at the Humber saying. "Well, well what have we here?" "It's a '39 Humber Light Ambulance." Lucy supplied tensing ever so slightly as she felt their eyes on her. "Shall we?" Bob said, giving my legs a look! Before I could stop her Lucy stepped away from me and started showing them what they wanted. Bob appeared to be a joker because he kept a patter going that was more than a little chauvinistic. Some it was clearly lewd, and I was a little worried that Lucy might not get it, until she gave me a very naughty look, and quietly added something that raised a rude laugh. "What did you say?" I whispered as the examiners, dismissed Lucy to the sidelines while they finished checking the Humber was correctly prepared. "When?" "The naughty laugh." I hissed. "Oh that?" She grinned, "Just the kind of bloke to bloke talk you would not understand love." I harrumphed and gave her a pointed enough look that she blushed and said. "All I said to them was I wish I could get you to wear some of that?" She nodded over the fence behind me. Turning I saw the gaggle of 'dolly' girls 'decorating' the Spitfire as a photographer dashed round with a camera, snapping out instructions to the girls like an army drill instructor. "Ha... I wish?" I ruefully chuckled, as our whispered conversation ended as the examiners walked over and informed Lucy that the Humber was passed for entry. Grinning like a loon Lucy brimmed with confidence and eagerly agreed when a marshal appeared clutching a fancy SLR digital camera saying. "Photo before you go?" "Aye we will." Lucy said, pulling me close beside her before he snapped us stood beside the ambulance. Turning the camera to face us he displayed the image on the small screen saying that if we wanted a copy it was a pound from the club desk at the air show. "Fancy it love?" Lucy said examining the picture. Dressed in the RAF blue sergeant uniform in the spring sunshine Lucy looked very handsome and even I found it hard to believe that the pretty nurse on 'his' arm was really a boy, even though I knew perfectly well it was really me! "If you want." I said in shy breathy tone. I was worried that my voice might give me away even though after Emma assured me that if I kept my voice like that no one would guess. "I do," Lucy nodded enthusiastically. "It will look lovely framed on the wall of the 'shop office." Watching the photographer moved to the next entry she suddenly shook her self and added. "Come on love, we've got best part of an hour before our departure slot, lets go find that tea stall, and take a look around." Sat beside the airfield, the hotels grounds were busy with rally goers attending to their vehicles watched by the curious passing public. Most of the owners were friendly cheerfully calling "Hello" and "Good luck" as we passed. Fortunately we had been in public long enough for me to start to get used to the physical side of being dressed as a woman before anyone really accosted us, but I was finding it hard to believe that with all the looks I was getting I was not being read. "Don't worry about them looks?" Emma advised picking up on my expression after she rescued us from the mob people at the tea stall. "I was watching for a couple of minutes before I came over and so far it been the usual boys checking out girls." "Oh... So they will carry on then?" I groaned. "Yep!" She laughed, "It goes with looking as pretty as you do but if you're that nervy about them the best way to deflect any excessive interest is to wear a ring to go with the Mrs Owens badge." She grinned and rooted in her handbag, "Here I forgot to give you this in the room, see if this will fit." She lowered her voice giggling, "All girls know the first place blokes look after they've ogled your tits and ass is your ring finger!" The ring did fit, but did as little to deflect the looks as Emma's words did at first to quell my anxiety. Stood just to one side of the melee round the tea stall all I wanted to do was run, but Emma kept me there, saying hello to various people and introducing me as Lucy. "She's Ron Owens other half," Emma said, "This is her first time and she's still kind of embarrassed about dressing the part." Giving the curious rather upper-class women a smile she added, "Having said that, when she's not feeling so overwhelmed she's normally a bit of a chatterbox." Trapped beside Emma it had to be one of the scariest half hours I have ever endured but in the end no one showed any sign that either Lucy or I was being 'read.' Not that Lucy had to worry that much, as she spent most of the half hour head down under a bonnet, showing a more money than sense owner how to 'bodge' a carburettor gasket, from scrap of cardboard. "Where are they going?" I asked after Lucy came over gave me a quick kiss and followed Pete towards a crowd of people. "Drivers meeting." Emma smiled saying, "Shall we?" as she nodded back towards our vehicles. I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes." The five-minute walk back to our start line, gave me a little time to consider how things had gone so far, which sort of relaxed me. I had been in public for almost two hours and no one had yet seen through our deception. In a strange way everything was going so well that I was even finding some gruesome humour in how easily we seemed to be settling into our new persona's. "Ready to listen?" Emma enquired as we sat on a bench opposite the MG. "To give it a go at any rate." I smiled remembering to smooth my skirt and cross my legs like she taught me. I was probably still a little wild around the eyes but exposure to the public had resulted in my feeling something towards acceptance that I looked normal. "Good!" Emma nodded lurching in to a bewildering list of do's and don't. Punctuating her words with demonstrations she showed me how to manage my skirts, hold my handbag, sit down, stand up and what to be aware of when walking. Much of what she said just reinforced what she had said earlier before Lucy arrived. My impromptu lesson was finished when the drivers meeting finished and Lucy arrived which resulted in my lips taking another kissing followed by a reminder from Emma to fix my lips. "Judging from how much lippy you've lost, I can see you'll be doing that a lot today." Emma ginned watching me eagle eyed as I repaired the damage of Lucy's kisses. "So make sure you don't leave any on 'His' lips?" "Okay?" I said sounding a little distorted with my mouth open just so to paint the colour over my lips. "Perfect!" She encouraged as I primped in my hand mirror, "Now make sure you do it like that every time Ron kisses you Luce!" "Yes mum!" I joked as she started talking to us both about the perception of gender. Even though most of what she said probably went over my head I did try to do what she told me, and something must have sunk in because we actually got away with it. Even so the day was a surreal experience. The bizarre sensation of feeling Lucy's moustache when we kissed was just the start of it. Then there was the glee in her eyes as she relished the looks I was attracting, and how she loved to mess my lips just to watch me go through the ritual of fixing them... It was at first all very strange. Getting taken as female was, to begin with, oddly unpleasant. I did not like the way men looked at me, or the patronising way they addressed their questions about me to Lucy. Yet at the same time there was a scary thrill in being seen as 'crumpet' that went well with the sense of gratification I got from looking good 'decorating' Lucy's arm. It was weird because as the day progressed it was concept that gradually became pleasurable, not so much for my own sake but for the status my presence gave to Lucy. I know it sounds daft, but I found a surreal contentment in making sure I kept myself looking pretty for her. Unlike Lucy who had been thrilled by everything since she first saw herself looking like a man in her uniform. I took a while to find the fun in what we were doing and did not particularly enjoy myself when we were with people before we got away. That began to change after I had been alone with Lucy in the cab for a while. Waving to the queuing air show visitors, and passing people we followed Pete along the route with Lucy babbled happily about how amazing she felt about being accepted as a bloke! Just hearing the glee in her tone did a lot to reassure me as we waved our way through the villages of North Kent. Mile by mile, as Lucy regaled me with what the examiners marshals and other drivers had said about me, the wrongness I felt began to fade. Once that sense of doing wrong slipped from the front of my mind I started to find myself feeling more comfortable with things. My skirts no longer felt quite so strange, and I quickly got to like the idea of 'my' handbag. Noticing it was just big enough for my small sketchpad, ever present 'pocket bag' of drawing paraphernalia and my camera. Giggling how it freed me from a carrier bag I quickly found that I felt lost with out it. Since it also contained tissues, make-up, compact, hairbrush, Lucy's purse and my cards finding anything was girlishly time consuming! Thankfully by the time we reached the first stop I was just beginning to come to terms with everything. I was not yet exactly enjoying myself but I was no longer the jumpy terrified bag of nerves that left the hotel, because that first break was a bit of a baptism of fire. Curious as much about the Humber as about Lucy and me, it felt to me like every one in our 'block' was interested in meeting the 'new folk' and I'm sure the only reason why we did not get caught out was Emma and Pete. With out drawing attention to it they kept us both from making any serious breaches in gender etiquette. I had one close call, almost forgetting how I was dressed after discovering the fun of flirting with Lucy. We were clustered outside a teashop and I forgot where I was going when I needed the loo. Giggling about something someone said I was heading towards the gents when Emma intercepted me just before I walked in! Whispering, "You're a girl remember?" She guided me into the ladies and that felt really wrong. In fact it was all very wrong, and yet all oddly right. It might sound a little strange because I still felt like I should not be enjoying it, but by the time we returned to the Humber I found myself starting to like being addressed as Mrs and quickly got used to having doors opened and the like for me. As we got back Emma chuckled into my ear. "Enjoying things now are we Lucy?" "Sort of." I grinned, "It is kind of fun being a girl." "That's the spirit!" Emma grinned. In retrospect I ended up enjoying the day way more than I ever thought possible. It might have taken me a few hours longer to get it, but by the time we got back to Biggin Hill I was enjoying the crossdressing ruse just as much as Lucy. The only problem on the horizon was that I did not recognise just how much Lucy took to being accepted as a bloke, or how appropriate she thought it was for me to be her girl. I should have guessed something was happening in her head when Lucy suggested we did not bother changing for the dinner barn dance... The plan had been to walk straight back to the hotel and change. On the rare occasions in the past when we had been at fancy dress things as students Lucy had always escaped as soon as she possibly could and I had been expecting her to want to do the same. "It's up to you love," I grinned. "You're the man today, make a decision." "We'll stay then!" Lucy grinned questioningly at me. I think she was probably expecting me to argue with her, which I was not going to do because by now I was enjoying the sensation and the status that came with how I was dressed. Everything was such a turn on and I felt sure Lucy was getting off on having me doing all the feminine primping and fussing. "Okay," I shrugged, hiding my shiver of glee, still unable to admit to her that I did not want to get changed back into me one bit. "Although I am kind of curious to know why." "Well Emma said that most folk don't change, and Pete mentioned that if we want to have a good look round at the planes, now is the time to do it, before the crowds are allowed over this side tomorrow. If we walk back to the hotel, by the time we've got back to looking like ourselves it will be dammed nearly time for the dinner dance." She grinned and added, "And I'm itching to take a look at the engines in the old war birds!" "Okay, but if you don't mind I'll stay here with my sketch pad." Lucy looked at me in surprise until I grinned. "I've been wanting to get my water colours out all day, and if you're going to moon over an engine." "Sure you don't mind me?" Lucy said nodding at the planes. "Nope." "Great!" Lucy grinned sticking her thumb up at Peter who was chatting to one of the pilots. Careful not to disturb my wig, I removed my apron and cap and sat myself down on the tailgate of the ambulance. Using a tea tray to rest my paper and surrounded by my small watercolour set and pencil box, people's politeness allowed me to avoid being spoken to for well over an hour until Emma suddenly appeared calling. "Lucy?" "Oh there you are?" She said barrelling up, "I wondered where you had got to?" "Just here?" I grinned. "Where are ... ?" "... the boys?" She grinned finishing my question, "Still lusting over that pilot friend of Jeff's, Spitfire." She was carrying a bag, and said sitting beside me, "What are you doing?" "Nothing just sketching." I said. "Getting a few ideas down." I handed her my sketchpad, it was full of the day's sights, relative size and perspective outlines. The page in front of me was full of watercolour sketches including one of Pete's red sport's car parked in front of the outline of a Spitfire, with the impression of the Biggin Hill control tower in the background. "I wish I knew how you did that?" She smiled, handing me the pad back adding, "We need to have a bit of a chat and then I'm off to the club caf? tent want to come along?" "Okay?" I nodded, "What's up?" "Lou said you two are going to stay dressed for the dinner dance." "Yeah, she wanted to look at the old planes before it got busy, and I've been itching to get my paints out all day," I said putting my paraphernalia away. "You know it means you'll be getting better known as Lucy, and will certainly have to stay dressed feminine until we leave." "You're joking?" "No." Emma shook her head, "Not unless you're prepared to risk being found out. So far, you've only really interacted with the old duffers who can barely remember their own names. At the dance you'll meet everyone, which could make tomorrow when the Humber is show judged embarrassing." "Oh bugger!" I groaned more to hide the secret shiver of delight that ran up my back at the prospect of remaining dressed tomorrow. Adding as I closed tailgate of the ambulance, "What did Lou say?" "What do you think?" Emma grinned, probably seeing through my deceptions. "She's having even more fun than you." "Oh, well in that case it looks l