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Doing It For Dad (chapter 10) free porn video
DOING IT FOR DAD
Chapter 10
It had been a mere matter of weeks since I had taken my first tentative
steps outside dressed as a woman, and the emotions I had felt during
that evening in Pelworth were still fresh in my mind. My evening stroll
with Elaine along the dark, deserted streets of the suburb had been
simultaneously terrifying and thrilling.
But compared to what lay ahead for me on Late May Bank Holiday Monday,
Pelworth now seemed like a walk in the park, so to speak. In twenty-four
hours time I would be strolling along the decidedly undeserted streets
of Scarborough, in broad daylight.
"That's a worried expression," said Elaine, as we cleared away after
Sunday lunch. "Fretting about tomorrow?"
"Well, yes," I replied. "Going away on a day trip wasn't quite what I
was expecting when I signed up for this. I'll be traipsing the streets
of Scarborough in a dress and high heels, with a bunch of old ladies.
And I'll probably be arm in arm with my dad, who will also be dressed up
as a woman. To say I'm apprehensive is putting it mildly."
"I know," Elaine said. "But your dad'll be grateful for your company.
It's a huge step for him, remember. I think you made the right choice in
agreeing to go with him."
Choice, I thought ruefully, had nothing to do with it. Celia Wardle had
me exactly where she wanted me. I had no choice, other than to play the
game by her rules for as long as she felt like it.
Besides which, I didn't want to worry Elaine and Julie. I had, so far,
stood by my decision not to tell them about what was going on. If my
masquerade supported my dad and gave comfort to my daughter, then so be
it. I was no longer quite so worried about whether our neighbours had
seen my weekly comings and goings as Carolyn; we hardly spoke to any of
them in any case, so it didn't matter too much to me.
My big worry was the complete and utter humiliation that would result
from being exposed at work as a transvestite. That threat was the sword
being wielded expertly over my head by Celia Wardle.
On Monday morning I got up and became Carolyn, opting to wear my
midnight blue lace dress and three inch heels. Julie, confident in my
abilities to do my own transformation, now only came to satisfy herself
of the finished result.
"Looking good, Carolyn," she said. "You'll be fighting off the fellas in
Scarborough, I'm sure!"
"I hardly think so," I replied. "I'm very far from being a hot chick,
despite what you and your mum might say to convince me otherwise."
"Don't do yourself down!" said Julie. "Remember Harry, at the Boar's
Head in Pelworth? I reckon he'd have been all over you, given half a
chance."
"And I seem to remember you insisting that Harry was probably only
humouring me," I countered. "I'm under no illusions that I can be
mistaken for a real woman, Julie. I'm just hoping that I make it back
home in one piece."
"You'll be fine," Julie reassured me. "Listen, don't forget to take your
lipstick and compact. You'll probably need to freshen your makeup at
some point."
I put the items in my handbag as Julie had advised, together with my
mascara, eyeshadow and blusher. Then I gave myself a spray of perfume,
and popped that in my bag as well.
At half-past nine Elaine drove me across town to Golden Days. The
minibus was due to leave at ten o'clock for the two hour trip to
Scarborough and, when Elaine pulled into the Golden Days car park, the
vehicle was all ready and waiting. At the wheel was Jerry, the warden.
"Morning, Carolyn!" he said, cheerily. "Everyone else is on board, so
now you're here we can be off. Hop on and grab yourself a seat, love."
I climbed on by the side door and looked along the bus. My dad--
Samantha-- was sitting next to Celia Wardle. Every other seat was
occupied, except for one.
"You'll have to sit up front with me, love," said Jerry, patting the
seat beside him. I got out of the bus again, and went to join Jerry in
the front. After putting my handbag on the floor at my feet, I fastened
my seatbelt and settled down for the trip.
"Here we go, girls!" Jerry called out as he started the engine. "Hang on
to your perms! Next stop Scarborough!"
We were soon out of the city and making good progress along the
motorway. There was plenty of chatter coming from the ladies sitting
behind me.
"Listen to them," Jerry said to me. "Cackling away like geese. I don't
think your mum can get a word in edgeways, bless her!"
I gave Jerry a sharp look. He was grinning broadly. "Samantha isn't my
mum, Jerry" I said.
"No," he replied. "Course she ain't. Figure of speech. Slip of the
tongue. Whatever. Didn't mean anything by it."
"That's all right," I said. "It does get a bit confusing." I suddenly
felt a little guilty for being too sensitive. "So, Jerry," I said,
changing the subject, "what's the plan for the day?"
"We'll get there at eleven fifty-three according to the satnav," the
warden explained. "We've got tables booked for lunch at a restaurant on
the seafront, nothing too pricey. After that, everyone can do as they
please, until six o'clock. Then it's back on the bus for home."
"Six hours," I said, looking at my high heels in dismay. "Let's hope it
doesn't rain."
Jerry shook his head. "There's no rain forecast. Should be a nice day.
Fingers crossed, eh?"
"Here's hoping," I agreed. "Jerry, you seem to be the only warden at
Golden Days."
"That is true," he replied. "It's a live-in position. There's supposed
to be a relief warden, but for the time being there's only me. I love
the job, though, so it doesn't bother me."
"How long have you worked there?" I asked him.
"I started when I was 29," said Jerry, "so it's coming up six years now.
A couple of years ago my grandad was looking for sheltered
accommodation; there was a room available at Golden Days, so I arranged
it for him to move in. Grandad died a couple of months back."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Thanks." Jerry drove on in silence after that. At quarter to twelve we
pulled up in a car park near the sea front at Scarborough.
"Here we are, ladies!" called Jerry. "Everybody out!"
The moment I'd been dreading had arrived. Scarborough had always been a
popular coastal resort for tourists, and the pleasantly warm Bank
Holiday weather had brought out the crowds in force. I reached out to
open the door, and then stopped.
"What's the matter, love?" Jerry asked me. "Can't you work the handle?"
"I don't know if I can do this, Jerry," I said. "There are too many
people. I'm scared."
"Hang on," he said, and then ran round to my side of the bus. He opened
the door and held out his hand to me. "Don't panic, Carolyn," he said.
"You look great, honest. Just take a deep breath, and hop out. It'll be
OK, you'll see. You've come this far to support your dad. Don't give up
now."
He was right, of course. I had to go through with it for dad's sake, and
I didn't fancy sitting in the minibus for the next six hours. I put my
hand in Jerry's, and stepped out into the Scarborough sunshine. There
was a slight breeze which played softly around my legs.
"See?" said Jerry. "No one bats an eyelid nowadays. Just pretend you
don't give a shit. Now, the restaurant's this way. Come on, let's see
that sexy wiggle you use at Golden Days!"
The engagingly impish grin on Jerry's face was a big confidence booster.
We linked arms, mine in his, and led our procession of day-trippers out
of the car park and along to the restaurant. I was acutely aware of more
than a few curious glances and double-takes aimed in my direction. There
were some smirking faces and shaken heads, but nothing more. My initial
fear had subsided; with my head held high and my shoulders back, my
self-belief grew with every ladylike stride I took.
And besides, Jerry was a good-looking young man, attentive, with an
easygoing sense of humour. It felt odd to be walking arm in arm with
him, but it helped me relax into the persona of Carolyn Ellsbrough.
I was enjoying myself. Today might not be so bad after all.
The restaurant was in a side street just off Foreshore Road. It was
fairly plain, fairly cheap, with fairly good food. Our reserved tables
were set near the window, and I managed to get a seat beside Samantha.
Jerry and Celia sat at the same table, along with two other Golden Days
residents, Annie and Gladys.
We made small talk over lunch. Jerry told a few jokes, some of which
were clean and all of which were old. The women laughed at them all, and
made a big show about "how naughty" Jerry was. They clearly regarded him
with great affection.
After we had finished lunch, Jerry settled the bill. "The girls'll
settle up with me when we get back," he explained to me.
"How much do I owe you?" I asked, opening my handbag.
"Put your purse away, love," he said. "Yours is on me." Then he turned
to address the rest of the party. "OK, girls, free time now. Do what you
like, within reason! Be back at the bus for six. Enjoy yourselves."
On leaving the restaurant we all split up into little groups and went
our separate ways. Samantha, Celia, Jerry and I set off along Foreshore
Road towards the Grand Hotel. Passers-by gave me some funny looks, but
resolutely kept passing.
"Right," said Jerry. "I'm buggered if I'm going to tramp around
Scarborough all afternoon. I'm off to find a pub. You coming with me,
Carolyn?"
I was startled by the abruptness of the invitation. "Well," I said, "I
should really stay with my-- with Samantha. It's why I'm here, after
all."
"Samantha'll be fine with Celia," Jerry told me. "Won't you, love?"
Samantha looked at me with a curious expression on his face. "I'll be
OK," he said. "You go and have a drink. Celia and I might join you later
on."
I hesitated, confused. Celia picked up on the hesitation, and threw down
her challenge. "There's a pub up the hill," she said, "just along from
the funicular station. I don't remember the name, but my grandson, Drew,
says it's very pleasant."
Celia gave me a sweet, defiant smile. Just by mentioning the name, Drew,
she had me over a barrel, and we both knew it.
"All right," I said.
"Great!" said Jerry, and off we went, leaving Samantha and Celia behind.
Jerry and I walked to the funicular station in Foreshore Road, and
bought tickets for the short ride up the hill. It was quite warm in the
carriage, and I was glad to get out when it reached the top station.
"This has to be the place Celia meant," said Jerry, after we had walked
a short distance along the road. "There isn't another pub near enough.
Come on." Jerry opened the pub door, and motioned me inside.
I instantly understood why Celia had recommended it to us. The pub was
what my dad would have called a "shit hole"; threadbare carpets, peeling
wallpaper, torn seats, and an all-pervading stink of stale beer and
urine. A chorus of drunken wolf-whistles greeted me as I walked in.
Celia had simply wanted to make me feel uncomfortable, and it had
worked.
"She's such a joker, that Celia," Jerry said. "Very pleasant my arse!
What are you having?"
"Surely we're not staying here?" I whispered. "Can't we go somewhere
else? Please?"
Jerry looked around the dingy room. "Yeah, OK," he said. "They don't
look as if they've cottoned on that you're a bloke yet, and I wouldn't
fancy your chances when they do. Come on."
We turned and left the pub. Some dark clouds had appeared in the sky.
"Looks like it might rain after all," said Jerry. "Typical bloody Bank
Holiday weather. There's a hotel round the corner. We'll go there."
The hotel bar was much better, though practically devoid of customers.
Jerry bought a pint of beer for himself and a white wine for me, then
took me to sit at a table in the corner.
"Well," said Jerry, after taking a long swig of his beer. "This is nice,
having a drink in a nice bar with an attractive girl."
"That beer must be very strong," I said, sipping my wine.
"You know what I mean," Jerry replied, smiling. "It's a very nice thing
you're doing for your dad. And I have to say, you do make a hell of a
good looking woman."
"Makeup is a wonderful thing," I said. "But thank you for the
compliment. Jerry... I need to talk to you about something."
"Yeah? About what?"
"About something that's going on at Golden Days. It sounds ridiculous,
and I know you won't believe this, but my dad--"
"--is being forced to wear women's clothes and call himself Samantha,"
Jerry finished. "Yeah, I know."
"You know?" I repeated, confused. "But... I don't understand..."
"Let me tell you a story. You know I told you my grandad moved in to
Golden Days a couple of years back? It was because he got chucked out by
his then-wife, on account of his little hobby. Grandad was a full-on
closet transvestite. Had been all his life. He'd dress up when his wife
was out, which wasn't all that often; they were both in their eighties,
after all. Anyway, one night his wife, Pat, came home from bingo early.
She caught him in his full kit, and went ballistic. Things went from bad
to worse very quickly, and she chucked him out.
"I got him in to Golden Days. He was the only bloke in the place. He'd
brought all his tranny stuff with him, but was afraid to wear it in case
one of the old girls caught him out. So I arranged a fancy dress party,
and he naturally went as a woman. Bette Davis, I think. Some ancient
actress. Anyway, I engineered it so that granddad could do his thing
twenty-four seven. Best part of all was, I managed to make it seem like
it was all the idea of the old girls themselves. It became a huge,
neverending joke.
But when grandad died a few months ago, the joke did end. The old girls
really missed having a resident tranny knocking about the place to have
fun with. Then your dad moved in, right into the same room as my
granddad had occupied. Celia Wardle decided it was time to try rekindle
the old fun, and she set to work on your dad. It was a form of bullying,
I suppose. I don't know how she did it in detail, but Celia quickly
persuaded your dad to dress as a woman all the time, much against his
will."
"I see," I said. My mind was in a whirl. "But why didn't you put a stop
to it?"
"Ah," he replied, "that's the second part of the story, Carolyn.
Remember that day when you found your dad dressed up for the first time?
I let slip to you that I knew about it, remember? Then I gave you that
cock-and-bull story about men dressing up as women to fit in--"
"Cock-and-bull story?" I said, aghast.
"Yeah. It was all a spur of the moment lie, I'm afraid. I was going to
come clean next time you visited, but then you turned up the next week
looking like... well, like you do now."
"So why didn't you tell me the truth?" I asked. "What made you change
your mind?"
"You did," he replied. "While you were with your dad, I bumped into
Celia. She'd seen me letting you into your dad's flat, and asked me who
you were. I told her you were Mr Ellsbrough's son. Then Celia told me
that her grandson, Drew, had come to see her just the day before. Drew
told her that you and him work at the same company. Talk about
coincidence, eh?"
"Yes," I said, my heart sinking.
"Celia saw the possibilities in a flash," Jerry said. "She's a smart
cookie, that one. She waited for you to leave, and then-- well, you know
the rest. The old joke just became even funnier."
Dad had once told me that Jerry was in league with the women of Golden
Days. Now I knew the truth, which was that the whole conspiracy had been
Jerry's idea from the start. But there was still one piece missing from
the puzzle.
"Jerry," I said, "you still haven't told me what made you change your
mind about telling me the truth."
Jerry finished his beer. "Do you know what a tranny-fancier is,
Carolyn?" he said, in a low voice. "Well, I'm a tranny-fancier. And you,
my darling, are a very fanciable tranny. Drink up, Let's go."
"What?" I gasped. "Why? Where are we going?"
"Don't worry, Carolyn," he said. "I don't fuck fellas. Not on a first
date, anyway! I'm just going to take you to the pictures."
"The pictures?" I said, dazed.
"Yeah," said Jerry. "It's half past two. We've got over three hours to
kill, and it looks like it's about to start pissing down. Let's go."
Jerry took me to a small side-street cinema. "How about that?" he said.
"They're showing "Some Like It Hot". One of my favourites. And it's due
to start in twenty minutes."
He bought two tickets, and an attendant showed us through to the
screening room. Once inside, Jerry led me straight to the middle of the
back row, and we sat with me to his right. Besides the two of us there
was only a handful of people in the place. My heart pounded with fear as
the lights dimmed for the advertisements and forthcoming attractions.
Then it was time for the film.
Jerry wrapped his right arm around my shoulders and pulled me in towards
him. "You're all tense," he said. "Don't be. I'm not going to hurt you.
Just unwind and enjoy the film."
I forced myself to relax, nestling in as best as I could against his
chest. Jerry rested his cheek on the back of my head, and caressed my
stomach with his left hand. My skin crawled.
Twenty-five minutes in to the film, Jerry's interest was aroused by the
first appearance of Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon dressed as women.
"Curtis certainly goes for it in this, doesn't he?" commented Jerry,
whispering into my left ear. He had already lowered his left hand to
rest on my left leg, and was now softly brushing the inside of my thigh
with his fingertips. I willed myself not to have an erection, with only
partial success.
When film finally ended at quarter past five. Jerry and I emerged from
the cinema into glorious sunshine, though the pavement was damp from
recent rain. We walked back to the funicular station and took the next
ride down to Foreshore Road. Then we sat on a bench and looked out at
the North Sea until it was time to return to the minibus.
Jerry eased one arm around my waist. "I've enjoyed our date, Carolyn,"
he said. "We must do it again sometime. Unless, of course, you'd rather
Celia told her grandson all about her nice day out at Scarborough?"
"No," I replied, miserably. "Of course not. But, Jerry, I'm a forty-
eight year old man."
"Well," said Jerry, "nobody's perfect."
To be continued...
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