Flat Mates - Part 3 - Chapter 11 - Summer In Manchester free porn video

FLAT MATES Part 3 - Chapter 11 - Summer in Manchester It was summer and the end of my first year at the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology. All through my last year at school I had looked forward to getting away from home for the first time and going to University. Don't misunderstand me, there was nothing wrong with my family life; Mum, Dad, my two sisters - Madeleine and Fiona - and I enjoyed a close, loving relationship at our home in Scarborough. It is just that there comes a time in every young man's life when he wants to stretch his wings away from the, inevitable, constraints of living with Mum and Dad. I had been over the moon when I learned that I had been accepted for a place at UMIST. Unfortunately rooms in Halls of Residence were oversubscribed and I had had to turn for help to the Student's Union in order to find somewhere to rent. I had, eventually settled on sharing a small, two bedroomed, terrace house in North Manchester, just off the Old Bury Road. I was sharing with a second year student, who was also at UMIST, by the name of Gavin. To cut a long story short; I soon discovered that Gavin was a transvestite whose alter-ego was called "Gloria". Gloria introduced me to the pleasures of cross-dressing and before long I was known to our circle as "Katy". After that things moved apace and by the end of the summer term I had not only discovered that I was gay, but I was also in what looked to be a long-term relationship with Gavin! We finally summoned up the courage to come out to our respective parents and, to our relief; they had proved to be more accepting than we had dared anticipate. So, the summer vacation was upon us and we had to decide how we were going to spend the next three months before the new academic year started in October. Our first decision was simply taken. Manchester has a nationally renown Village that caters for the gay, lesbian and transgendered community. Gloria and I were regular attendees at a club called the Purple Python that was used by people of all sexual persuasions and was very welcoming and inclusive. Now it so happens that for the last few years, the Village has played host each July to the "Sparkle Festival". This is a weekend event for the transgendered that draws people from all over the country and, indeed, internationally. Gloria had attended the event the previous year but, of course, it was all new to me and I was anxious to participate. We therefore decided to stay in Manchester until at least after Sparkle. One evening we were drinking in the Purple Python - en-femme of course - when the owner, Sol Green, came over to where we were sitting with several of our "girl" friends. "Any of you girls up for earning a bit of money during Sparkle?" he enquired, "only I am planning to open pretty well 24/7 during the festival and I am going to need extra staff for the weekend." Gloria and I swapped glances and both volunteered on the spot. To be paid to be at the centre of things for the whole festival sounded too good to be true! Gloria already had a regular singing spot in the weekly cabaret at the Python and Sol was only too eager to offer her extra performance slots. I, unfortunately, wasn't so talented and had to be content with being booked as a waitress. As Sol explained, although normally the Purple Python was an inclusive club, for the duration of Sparkle he intended to put the emphasis on the transgendered side of things and to only employ cross- dressed "waitresses". In the end some six of us "girls" signed up for waitressing duties and even a couple of Sol's regular gay waiters, who weren't into cross-dressing at all, offered to enter into the spirit of things for the duration of the festival and don heels and skirts. The Sparkle Festival was scheduled for the middle weekend in July, and some ten days before, Sol called us all together to try on our new uniforms. From one of his many contacts, Sol had acquired a collection of French Maid outfits. They were made of a satiny material and came in a "one size fits all" pattern; with an elastic belt bring all the surplus material into place at the waist. The striking feature about these particular maid's dresses was that each one was of a different colour. Spread out on the club tables they created a veritable rainbow of colours. I picked one in a lovely deep pink and was holding it up against my body to see how it looked, when I noticed it had a name tag pinned above the left breast. Mine read "Rose"; whilst others had names such as "Violet", "Primrose", "Sapphire", and "Midnight". Sol explained that for the duration of the Festival, our "working names" would coordinate with our dresses; a nice touch I thought. We all hurried to get out of our male drab and into our pretty frocks. The dresses all had a wide neckline and were worn just off the shoulder. The neck, sleeves and hem were lavishly trimmed with lace, and the skirt fell to somewhere about mid thigh. They came with a two pairs of white, frilly, rumba knickers and lacy net petticoats; all intended to be on display for the customers benefit! We were each also handed two pairs of flesh- coloured dance tights, a narrow suspender belt, and two pairs of fishnet stockings. Finally Sol issued us with black court shoes with a three inch heel. "I know you legs would be shown off to better advantage with a higher heel" he said, "but remember you are going to be on your feet serving for several hours at a time and I don't want to cripple you!" Good thinking on his part. Sol had all us new waitresses - including the two regular waiters - in to work a shift the weekend before the Festival so that we could learn the ropes. By the end of my shift I was really glad he had not chosen shoes with a higher heel as my feet were aching as a result of carrying trays of drinks and food to all the tables in the club. For the Sparkle weekend itself, it would be even more tiring as Sol had negotiated to be allowed to set up tables outside the club on Canal Street by the water. This would necessitate us carrying trays up and down the stairs from the basement where the Purple Python was normally situated. There just remained one final task I had to undertake to get ready for Sparkle and that was to visit the hairdressers. After a year of letting our hair grow, both Gavin and I sported luxurious locks; so much so that it was becoming increasingly difficult to fit it all inside a wig cap when we dressed. We had decided, therefore, that in honour of Sparkle to forego wigs and have our natural hair styled in a feminine cut. Accordingly we had booked ourselves into the hairdressers in the parade of shops near our house. When we pitched up for our appointments, in male drab, it rapidly became clear that in this part of Manchester, at least, men did not get their hair cut in Ladies' hair salons; common though that might be in other, more sophisticated, areas of town. There was an initial diffidence in getting us robed and seated, but the atmosphere soon lightened with the stylists laughing and smiling with incredulity when we told them we wanted them to style our hair in a female fashion. Once we had explained that we would be working as women for the Sparkle Festival, the stylists entered into the fun and started suggesting styles they thought might work for us. Gavin settled for having his hair bleached to his favourite platinum blonde colour, cut short and fluffy in a "Marilyn Monroe" style. I favoured a fuller cut style; piled high on the top of the head and falling in waves and curls to my shoulders. For colour I decided on a darker blonde with high and low lights running through. Having our hair styled was a totally new experience for both of us and I, for one, enjoyed it immensely. The whole paraphernalia of washing; colouring; using foils and chemicals to produce the streaks of lighter and darker tones was amazing. Even sitting under the dryer was an experience. Then the use of rollers to produce the curls I wanted; my head aching with the tightness of the rolling. This followed by brushing; teasing; the lavish use of setting lotion; all were a delight. When my stylist finally let me look at myself in the mirror, I was over the moon at what I saw. From an artfully piled topknot, my hair fell in gentle waves down, across my shoulders before ending in a little flip. A long fringe was parted so that a lock almost fell across my left eye. I just loved it!!! Whilst we were having our hair styled. On of the salon staff suggested we might like to have manicures and pedicures at the same time. We both tried to keep our nails in decent shape, but, inevitably, engineering lab work at the University precluded any real length to our nails; so we accepted her suggestion with alacrity. By the time all the work was complete, we both sported lovely long fingernails, built up with acrylic extensions. Mine were varnished a soft pink, whilst Gavin's were a much brighter red. Both of us had burgundy coloured varnish on our toenails. What a fantastic morning we had both had! The two of us couldn't stop giggling as we walked back to our house. As long as we retained these hairstyles, there was no way we could pretend that we were "ordinary men". We had deliberately identified ourselves as transvestites. But what the hell, we were way past the point where being "outed" might have been an issue. Our nearest and dearest now knew all about us and our relationship. It simply didn't matter what other people thought. Finally the Friday morning for the start of Sparkle dawned and I awoke in a state of some excitement. The taking over of The Village by transvestites for a whole weekend was an awesome prospect and a totally new experience for me. I wasn't scheduled to start work at the Purple Python until 7pm, so I decided to have a leisurely morning getting ready and then wander into town after lunch to see what was happening and get a feel for the festival before having to start work. Having been using a depilatory cream for months, my body hair was gradually becoming sparser and sparser and I had given myself a full-body treatment the night before. However I didn't want to show any unsightly hairs whilst wearing my beautiful new uniform, so I checked carefully as I entered the shower and shaved off one or two stubborn areas. Of course, with my new hairdo, I had to use a shower cap and take extra care not to get it wet. Once dry I slipped on a robe and sat at my dressing table and carefully teased my hair back into shape. I then applied my make-up, using a palette of pink tones for my eyes and a "bubble-gum pink" lipstick. Once I was satisfied with the appearance of my face and hair, I started to get dressed. First off I pulled up a pair of white, elasticised panties and carefully tucked my male member back out of sight. The flesh-coloured dance tights went on next before I turned my attention to my boobs. I had been experimenting with different ways of taping my chest to create the illusion of cleavage with, I have to say, quite decent results. Once the taping was complete I stepped into a new corset I had purchased especially for this event. Normally I wore a waist cinch and separate bra to give me a feminine profile. However the wide neckline of my uniform dress precluded the wearing of a bra with straps, so I had invested in an all- in-one strapless corset that nipped in my waist and supported my breast forms at the same time. I called out for Gloria to give me a hand with the lacing as I wanted to trim my waist down as much as possible. I had deliberately lost a fair amount of weight over the year and could now lace myself down to a very respectable 26 inches. With my breast forms in place below my taped chest, the reflection I saw in my mirror was that of a pretty woman in her underwear. My maid's dress was waiting for me at the Purple Python, so I slipped on a simple navy-blue, above the knee skirt with a white camisole and cardigan. A pair of blue heels and matching purse and I was ready. I called out goodbye to Gloria, who wasn't coming into town until later; her first performance slot at the club wasn't until 9pm. As I walked into The Village I was amazed to see just how much infrastructure had been put in place overnight. A marquee and stage had been erected in Sackville Gardens and some musicians were busy setting up and testing their equipment. Various stalls were in the process of being built and I spotted my friend Frankie - the woman who runs a dressing service for trannies who are unable to dress at home, and from whom I had purchased much of my initial wardrobe. I wandered across to say "hi". Frankie explained that whilst Sparkle runs over three days, much of Friday is spent setting up and the event doesn't really get lively until Friday evening when most of those attending will have arrived in the City. ?Wait until tomorrow though? she warned. ?This place will be packed and the live music is invariably fantastic!? Her stall was there primarily to advertise her dressing service, but she had quite a lot of things for sale, including a rack of clothes. Rummaging among these I found a pair of lime- green Capri pants in my size and bought them. I rationalised that whilst I retained my current hairstyle I was going to be spending more time en- femme than not, and I would need to broaden my wardrobe to include some everyday, casual items. Saying au revoir to Frankie, I wandered up Canal Street where all the bars and restaurants had set up tables under the trees on the canal bank. Many of the tables were already occupied by early arrivals for the festival. If I had ever thought that transgender was confined to a narrow tranche of society, my walk down Canal Street would have rapidly disabused me; there were representatives of all ages, colour, size, and social class. Pretty boys, indistinguishable for the young girls they emulated, rubbed shoulders with burly working men with tattooed arms and badly fitting wigs. Drag Queens chatted amicably with elderly men in ?granny clothes? appropriate for their age. Even this early in the day some were wearing full-length evening gowns, whilst others were dressed as schoolgirls or baby sissies. There was a limited amount of rubber and leather garments on display, although personally the thought of wearing a rubber dress on such a warm sunny day was definitely not appealing! And that was only to consider the male to female cross-dressers; there was a good representation of our trans-masculine brothers in evidence as well. Everyone seemed to be delighted to be in Manchester for Sparkle and there was a happy buzz of conversation as friends, who hadn?t seen other since the same event last year, met up and swapped all the latest gossip. I sat down at a table in the shade and ordered an iced tea. As I was sipping it and quietly watching the tranny-world go by, I was approached by two people of about my own age who asked if they could sit at my table as the others in this area were all occupied. I was happy to oblige and, after they had ordered drinks, engaged them in conversation. It transpired that they were two students from Holland who had made a special journey to England expressly to attend Sparkle. They introduced themselves as Fanny and Claudia. They had both came from the same town and had been dressing for many years, each unbeknown to the other. It was only when they had both started University in Leiden and bumped into each other in a transvestite bar that they discovered how much they had in common. We spent a really pleasant afternoon chatting and swapping experiences. Both Fanny and Claudia were ?straight? and each had girlfriends back in Holland. Their girls knew and supported the boys? dressing habits and had sent them to Manchester with their blessing. As the time for me to get ready for my waitressing shift approach, I made my farewells. The two Dutch girls said they would drop into the Purple Python later that evening and I promised them that they would have a good time. I wasn?t due on duty for another couple of hours, but I was very excited by what I had seen during the afternoon and I wanted to start taking my part in the festivities. Accordingly, I made way down to the room Sol had set aside for us waitresses to change in only to discover that I wasn?t the only one keen to get started; two other girls were there before me and already had nearly changed! I slipped off my cardigan, camisole and skirt and hung them up next to my uniform. My first task was to visit the bathroom. I knew that once the evening got underway, visits to the toilet would be difficult and few and far between, so I wanted to take care of that problem in advance! After I had washed and freshened up, I redid my make-up in a style more appropriate for evening wear and titivated my hair. I really was extremely pleased with what my stylist had achieved; I decided I never wanted to go back to a boring old masculine ?short back and sides?! I fastened my suspender belt around my waist and, carefully rolling my fishnet stockings up my legs, fasted the welts to the six clips. The fishnets, worn over dance tights, did give a lovely sheen to my legs. I stepped into my frilly white rumba panties with the layers of lace all across the bottom and pulled them into place. Next I settled the net and lace petticoats around my waist and, carefully, lowered the rose-coloured dress over my head. I shook it into place and snapped the elastic belt round my waist before donning a tiny white apron. I hung ruby coloured dangly earrings from my lobes and clipped a delicate matching necklace around my throat. I slipped my feet into my shoes and, as a final flourish put a small artificial pink rose in my hair. Picking up the little wrist purse that each of us waitresses had been given for the money we took from customers; I was ready for the fray. As I walked out of the room I couldn?t resist taking a final peek at myself in a full-length mirror. I saw the image of a sexy young woman with long, black-clad legs that rose into a foam of white petticoats. Her gorgeous dress swelled over a goodly sized bosom that hinted at cleavage aching to be explored, to a delicate neck and a pretty face crowned with a mane of streaked blonde hair. I very nearly fell in love with myself! With a spring in my step I walked along the corridor to the pass door and my first night as a transvestite waitress. As I entered the club proper, I was staggered at how busy the place was. On a normal evening the Python didn?t start to hum until well after 9pm; tonight it was only 6:30pm and the place was heaving! One of the waitresses hurried by me carrying a tray. It was ?Violet? ? (nee ?Barry?; normally a very camp gay waiter at the club who had offered to enter into the spirit of the weekend and cross-dress as a waitress, although this wasn?t he was used to.) I could see he was hot and flustered; his wig was askew and his high heels were clearly causing him problems. ?Thank goodness you?ve turned up? he gasped. ?We are rushed off our feet here; I?ve never known anything like it!? I hurried to the front desk and asked Mavis, who was Duty Manager, which areas she wanted me to work. ?Drinks, I think? she replied. ?It?s a bit early yet and few people are eating. However, they are getting through a lot of booze; Sol will be delighted!? Mavis was lesbian and a regular at the Python. Tonight she had cross-dressed and was wearing a very smart white tuxedo with black trousers, bow tie and Oxford shoes. She had sleeked her dark hair back and tied it off in a tight bun. I complimented her on her appearance. She grinned; ?Trouble is Alice ? (her partner) ? is saying she likes me like this and wants me to carry on in a masculine role after Sparkle finishes!? I grabbed a tray and order pad and set about serving the thirsty customers. The majority of there were transvestites ? both MtF and FtM, but there were clearly a number of ?straight? visitors who had come along to enjoy the view. I had a very busy hour or so until people started drifting off to restaurants for dinner. The Purple Python was a night club and had only limited catering facilities. Sol had brought in extra cooks for the weekend but anyone wanting a proper meal had sensibly booked elsewhere. Enough punters remained, however, to keep us waitresses busy with orders for snacks and more drinks. Sol had booked a small band for the duration of Sparkle and they were playing gently at the side of the small caberet stage. At 9:30 Gloria came on for her first singing spot. She looked fabulous in a metallic, floor- length silver dress with a plunging neckline and a slit up the front of the skirt that displayed her slender legs to great advantage. I was so proud of her. Her first set was a short one; just to warm up. It was too early in the evening for most punters to pay serious attention to the entertainment ? they were too busy eating and drinking! True to their word, my new Dutch friends, Fanny and Claudia, dropped into the Python around 10:30. They had changed in evening glad rags and looked lovely. Fanny wore a gold-sequined mini-skirt and a purple, sleeveless blouson top over sheer, black nylon tights and purple platform heels. Claudia had chosen a black, velvet mini-dress, worn under a heavily beaded net jacket, with flesh-coloured tights and silver, peep-toe shoes. Claudia was blonde, whilst Fanny wore an auburn wig. They had really made an effort to look their best and, as soon as I spotted them, I hurried over to say ?hi? and took them across to a table where Tanya, Tessa, and Phyllis ? three of my tranny friends who were regulars at the Python ? and introduced them. The girls made Claudia and Fanny welcome and I left them in safe and friendly hands whist I hurried off to the bar to get their drinks order. Gloria return for her principle performance at 11:30. The audience was more receptive now and her set went down a storm. Unlike many drag singers, Gloria did not lip-sync and mime to records of famous female singers. Her theatrical experience and training had given her the ability to tune her singing voice into a convincing feminine register. She sang in a voice somewhere between a tenor and an alto and certainly knew how to ?put over? a number. She started with standards from shows by Porter and Gershwin before moving into a more funky blues area of music. She avoided numbers associated with obvious gay icons such as Judy Garland or Billy Holiday and concentrated instead on the music of Aretha Franklin and Bessie Smith. Her performance was rewarded with prolonged applause and she was forced to concede several encores. My heart was bursting with love and admiration for my partner and I longed to be able to leap up on the stage and give her a big hug and kiss of congratulation. However, I restrained myself; I would show my appreciation later?at home?in bed!! Eventually, around 2:30am, the Purple Python emptied and we were able to clear up and go home. Gloria had left before me and was already snuggled up in bed when I walked in. ?Well, how did you enjoy your first experience of Sparkle?? she enquired. ?I loved it? I replied; ?I could never have imagined what a buzz it gives to be surrounded by so many hundreds of ?sisters?. I knew the transgender community was a large and diverse one, but until you see a gathering like this, you just can?t comprehend just how many like us there are out there.? We were both very tired, emotionally and physically, so my promised ?appreciation? would have to wait until another time. We cuddled up and quickly fell asleep. Saturday is the ?big one? for Sparkle, when the largest numbers of people turn up. I was eager to see and experience all that was going on, so, desspite of the fact that I knew I was going to have a busy and late night working, I made sure I was dressed and in The Village by 11am. The place was heaving; with groups of trannies everywhere, chatting, shopping, or just sitting at a caf? enjoying the sun and the view. I managed to catch part of the ?Miss Sparkle? competition and a few on the bands before it was time to get ready for work. I didn?t bump into Fanny or Claudia again, but that was hardly surprising given the large numbers milling about. The pattern of Saturday night followed that of Friday, only more people in the club; a more raucous atmosphere; and an even later finish! Sunday was quieter and, by about 4pm, The Village was starting to empty as those taking part set off home. Never the less there was a hard core of party goers that ensured that the Python was kept humming until the early hours of Monday morning. It must have been nearly 4am before we waitresses were able to kick off our heels and enjoy a companionable drink together. Sol Green was absolutely delighted with the success of the weekend and declared, there and then, his intention to maintain a day-time caf? at weekends for the rest of the summer as an addition to the night club. He took me aside and asked whether I would like to be part of the regular team running the day-time operation. I said that I would like to but that Gavin and I were thinking about taking a short holiday sometime before the new term started. Sol said that would be fine as he had plenty of casual staff who could fill in; he want me on the team because he had been impressed by the way I interacted with customers and engaged them in banter and conversation, thus encouraging them to buy yet more drinks and snacks and to stay in the club longer than they otherwise might. Needless to say I was flattered and agree to continue in my waitressing role. (Truth to tell I had become rather fond of my frilly petticoats and short, silky dress. Any excuse to continue wearing them would be welcome!) Monday and Tuesday Gavin and I were fit for nothing and slept late and went to bed early. By Wednesday, however, we were starting to come round and, over coffee, talked about our possible holiday. Neither of us had much spare cash, so we decided not to go abroad, but we didn?t really fancy spending the whole of a hot summer in the middle of a city ? even one with as many attractions as Manchester. When we looked into possible options for a break somewhere in the UK, we discovered that this was going to be nearly as expensive as going abroad! Which brought us, inevitably, back to that old standby ? visit the family!! We thought about going to my home; Scarborough in the sunshine can be lovely. However, in the end we opted for Gavin?s parent?s house in Shrewsbury. My Mum and Dad had taken the news about my being gay much better than I had expected; they had even coped with learning that their son was a cross-dresser. I couldn?t avoid the fact, however, that my parents were more conservative than Gavin?s and that if we went to Scarborough we would be restricted in terms of what we could do, as Mum and Dad would always be worrying that one or other of their friends might see us wearing skirts and be disapproving. In Shrewsbury we could be much more open in our behaviour and, hence, have a more relaxing time. Accordingly Gavin rang his Mum to ask whether we could come and stay for a few days. Maureen was delighted that we wanted to spend time with them and we arranged to drive down a few weeks later. The rest of July and most of August was spent exploring Manchester and working at the Purple Python. It might sound strange, having been living in Manchester for best part of a year, but outside of the University and The Village, I really knew little about the City. So we spent our days visiting galleries and museums ? such as the Whitworth Art Gallery, the Imperial War museum, and the Lowry in Salford; great art and fabulous galleries. Some days we drove out of the city and visited stately homes such as Tatton Park or explored some of the beautiful Pennine countryside. We discovered that we both enjoyed walking and this added to our enjoyment. With regard to our appearance; sometimes we were en femme; on other occasions in male drab ? (walking, for example, isn?t a pastime you want undertake whilst wearing a corset!) We even, now and again for fun, went about as a ?mixed pair?, taking it in turns to alternate the roles of man and woman. When in male mode I brushed my long hair back and wore it in a ponytail low on my neck. Gavin found it harder to disguise his ?Marilyn Monroe? locks and took to wearing a baseball cap. Living so much of my time in the female role helped me develop a dress sense appropriate for a girl student of my age; cheap, practical, but with occasional flashes of style and sophistication. Gloria and I both enjoyed rummaging through charity shops and dress agencies looking for bargains. I found some super items; skinny jeans that showed of my bottom to advantage ? (even if initially I was somewhat uncomfortable in the crutch!); ladies trousers ? and a fabulous pants suit; some pretty blouses and tops; simple, everyday skirts in a variety of materials and patterns; and shoes ? and yet more shoes! I discovered I had quite a fetish for shoes and boots. All this was very much ?everyday? wear, but I also acquired three or four stunning dresses, including one full-length evening gown in royal-blue velvet; sleeveless and slit to the thigh on one side. All I needed now was an opportunity to wear it! As you can imagine, having so many new clothes was putting quite a strain on my wardrobe space. Accordingly I bundled up most of my male clothing and put it in the attic, retaining only those items essential for the few occasions when I needed to appear masculine. By now I had disposed of all my male underwear and socks, wearing only knickers and opaque knee-highs. I even managed to find pretty, second-hand jewellery in charity shops and antique markets and now possessed a fairly substantial collection of earrings, necklaces, bracelets and even a few, brooches. At weekends I worked for Sol Green at the Purple Python. He had abandoned running a breakfast service once Sparkle was over, but still opened at 10:30 for coffee; running into lunches; afternoon tea; and pre-dinner drinks ? all before the night-club opened at 8pm. I was employed as Head Waitress from 10am until 6pm. To my sorrow Sol decided that French Maid uniforms were inappropriate for the daytime and we were issued with brightly coloured blouses and straight black, knee-length skirts. These outfits might not be as glamorous as the ones they replaced, but they were very elegant and eventually I got over my disappointment. The Python?s extra opening hours was very successful and I encouraged my fellow waitresses to take time to be friendly with the customers. This, in turn, resulted in more people coming back in the evening to visit the night club; a ?win-win? situation you might say. I found I had a real knack for dealing with customers and ensuring that their experience of the Python was a positive one. Sol was very pleased with my services and, without my asking him, increased my pay; very welcome to an impoverished student! All in all our summer in Manchester was a very pleasant one for Gavin and I. Because we were doing new things together, we naturally learned more about each other?s interests and, as a consequence, our relationship deepened and I became even more convinced that I had found a true partner. How long our relationship might last we did not know, but for now we were deliriously happy together. At the end of August we set off on our planned holiday in Shrewsbury with Gavin?s parents. Maureen and Robert made us very welcome and tactfully indicated that if we wished to present as women in and around the town; that was OK with them. Gavin?s sister, Sonia, no longer lived at home but came over for dinner the first night we were there and I found myself sharing intimacies with her as I would with my own sisters. Our holiday was a great success. Gloria and I did, indeed, decide to live en femme 24/7 and encountered no animosity at all as we explored the town and surrounding area. On the Saturday evening Maureen and Robert organised a small party to introduce me to some of their and Gavin?s friends. Everyone knew that Gavin had been a cross-dresser since his youth, so they weren?t freaked out by meeting me in a dress. I met some lovely people and came to realise that, in the main, folk were much less censorious that I had imagined. But all good things must come to an end and, all too soon, it was time for Gavin and me to return to Manchester. The new academic year loomed ? the final one for Gavin ? and we both had holiday assignments to complete - naturally neither of us had made any attempt to start these! So, we made our farewells and promised Maureen we would visit again soon, and drove back to Manchester. Here we did, finally, get stuck into our university work and the final few weeks of the vacation seemed to go by in a flash. What with writing assignments during the week and waiting at table at weekends, I had little time for socialising. Still we did manage a few evenings catching up with our tranny friends. As I woke up on the Monday morning of the new term, I reflected just how lucky I had been to get a university place in Manchester ? and even more so to end up sharing a house with Gavin. This last year had turned my life round. What would the new academic year hold in store? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ??????more to follow!