Oggbashan Stew Pt. 02

But, probably, we could wear a body suit made for the other. She could be male. I could be female. We could both be male, or both female...

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It wasn't as easy as we thought it would be. We had to be measured several times and go to the factory for trial fittings. The first body suits we ordered were replicas of each other. My body suit turned me into Moira; hers was of Carl. The results were amazing. Unless someone was close to us, say in the same small room, we seemed to be the other but possibly a decade younger. The faces were the giveaway. Although they looked right the facial movements were minimally restricted. We seemed unresponsive and stiff. But if I was wearing Moira's clothes and she wearing mine we seemed to have done a complete body swap. One clue was that I had slightly wider and longer women's shoes; Moira had smaller, narrower versions of mine.

We practised talking as each other. It didn't really work. Our best efforts came close to being a possible relation of the other, a brother, sister or cousin. Apart from the voice being slightly wrong our movements weren't identical. Someone who knew us, seeing from a distance, might think 'That person looks like Moira (or Carl) but isn't'. If we were sitting side by side and not moving we looked right. Moira's version of me was thicker in the chest to conceal her breasts even if she wore a flattening sports bra. When I was in the body suit as Moira my waist was a couple of inches bigger than hers. I could wear one of her skirts if it had some elastic in the waist but not if it had a zip fastening.

The body suits were much thinner than we had expected before we saw examples at the factory. Our fingers and toes worked as if we were wearing thin disposable gloves. Our faces felt as if we had applied a sun-block cream. My fake breasts were separate. I wore them like a tight cropped vest top. When Moira wore one of my female body suits her own breasts filled out the bust effectively.

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We decided to experiment with our body doubles before ordering other suits. We went out for walks as each other. At first we went to country parks some distance from home. As we gained confidence we went to shopping malls but not those we normally used. We found that we could eat, drink and talk wearing the suits. Going to a toilet was a problem. Dressed as Moira I could use a cubicle in a Ladies restroom. Moira, as Henry, needed a cubicle in a Gents' toilet but they were fewer and sometimes occupied. We had a disabled toilet key that had belonged to Moira's mother. We could go into a disabled toilet together and help each other get access through the body suits.

The disadvantage of the body suits is that we needed each other to help to put them on and take them off. It was impossible to do alone. Even with the other helping it would take about five minutes to put a body suit on, and perhaps less time to take one off. The disabled toilets became a godsend. If the day suddenly turned hotter the body suits became sweat suits. The two of us could go into a disabled toilet as Moira dressed as Carl, and me dressed as Moira, to emerge without body suits, as ourselves. The body suits could be rolled up into a carrier bag.

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Story 033

Masked Wedding

My wife's older sister Alice has an odd sense of humour. I like her. I had appreciated her as Judy's Matron of Honour and only attendant at our wedding two years ago. Alice had been calm, competent and had supported Judy as only a best older sister could. Her husband Derek had been my Best Man, helping me nearly as much as Alice did for Judy.

Our wedding had been very simple. Our parents had given us a choice. We could spend money on a large wedding, or we could have a simple wedding and use the money for the deposit on a newly built house. We had chosen the house and hadn't regretted it.

Judy and Alice had visited several local charity shops to find a wedding dress and a gown for Alice. They had a limited budget but were very lucky. One charity shop was selling off its wedding stock to make room for faster moving casual clothing. They had bought the two gowns and all the accessories Judy needed for half the total they had allowed. They were fortunate because they are both tall and large. No bride before them had looked further than the size of the gowns before rejecting them.

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A week ago we had invited Alice and Derek to dinner tonight. Derek had been sent away for a two day conference, substituting at twenty-four hours' notice for a more senior manager who was unwell. We had decided to go ahead with the meal anyway. We two couples frequently ate in each other's houses. If Derek couldn't be with us for this meal, he would be for the next when Judy and I celebrate our second anniversary.

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Story 034

Massage Shower

I play amateur Rugby but I have another hobby. I help my father who is part of our local archaeological trust. He has a degree in archaeology; mine is in pre-medieval history.

Our rugby team sometimes has help from Julie, our volunteer physiotherapist and masseuse. She's the daughter of the Rugby club's Chairman, Roger. I'd like to date Julie but she refuses to date any of the team because it might cause problems for us. She's probably right. We all like Julie. Most of us find ourselves almost purring as she works on our bodies.

We play hard for amateurs. Knocks and bruises are common even after practice sessions. Julie sorts us out and keeps us playing. Sometimes she wears gloves that are covered in small soft projections. They help her to loosen up knotted muscle.

I am a qualified plumber working for a large construction company during the week. Like many members of the Rugby club I use my skills to help other members when we can.

After Saturday morning's match I needed more of Julie's time than anyone else. Although I had scored two tries, unusual for me, I had also ended up under a pile of heavy bodies three times. I was battered and bruised. I was lying on my back as Julie worked around my shoulders and upper arms. I was only wearing a slip that had been covering my jock strap. The rest of the team had left for the bar twenty minutes ago.

"Geoff?"

I had to drag myself back from the blissful haze I get when Julie is gently easing my pain.

"Yes, Julie?"

"You're a plumber?"

I raised my head to look at her.

"You should know I am. Why? Need some plumbing?"

Julie's hand lightly pressed my head back to the massage table.

"Yes -- but NOT that sort of plumbing, Geoff."

"What did I say?" I protested.

"It wasn't what you said, but the look as you said it. And that..."

Julie pointed to the erection tenting my tiny slip.

"I can't help that, Julie. You know I like you."

"I suppose it is a sort of compliment, Geoff, but all of you have that when I work on you."

"Of course we do, Julie. Fred is probably the only exception."

"He isn't, Geoff. He's bi, not just gay."

"OK. But you need my professional plumbing help?"

"Yes, please, Geoff. My shower isn't working properly."

"OK. Are you free now? I could come and look at it for you."

"Yes. But you should be dressed first. Won't you miss joining the others in the club's bar?"

"I doubt they'd notice my absence. Even if they did, helping Julie would be a very acceptable excuse. We are all grateful to you. Besides, if I'm coming to your place I shouldn't drink and drive."

"Some players do," Julie said.

"Most don't, and those that do keep their drinking within the legal limit. I drive, or I drink. I don't do the two together."

"That's one of the things I like about you, Geoff."

Julie liked me? She had never said that before. She had said she liked all the team members several times. As far as I knew she had not said that to a single player -- until now.

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Half an hour later I parked outside her house. I took my basic plumbing bag out of the car and walked to her front door. Her house had been the family home and farmhouse when it was built over a hundred years ago. The family had grown too large for it in the 1930s. It had been replaced by a larger mansion closer to the village and the old house had been used for farm workers. It had been minimally renovated for Julie about five years ago. I understood it was still being worked on, gradually. Although I knew where Julie lived I had never been inside the house.

Julie opened the front door before I reached it. She smiled at me.

"Cup of tea, Geoff?" She asked.

"Later perhaps, Julie, when I've seen what the problem is," I replied.

I followed Julie upstairs to the bathroom. I appreciated the gentle wiggle of her hips in her tight pencil skirt. She had changed from the sweat pants she wears when working on the team.

I stopped dead in the bathroom door. I had never seen anything like this shower except once in a museum. It looked as if an enamel bath had been fitted vertically at the end of a large horizontal bath. There were four taps on the edge of the shower, a large rose about seven feet up, and dozens of inward facing spray nozzles. Anyone having a shower would be sprayed with water from many directions at once.

"My great-grandfather had it installed," Julie said, "and it was renovated by one of my father's friends about four years ago. It worked perfectly until I tried it this morning."

She turned on the cold tap. There was a trickle from the overhead rose and a few dribbles from the horizontal nozzles.

"Had any building work done recently?" I asked.

"Yes. Dad and my brother were putting in loft insulation on Friday."

"And you haven't used the shower since then?"

"No, Geoff. I had a bath, not a shower."

"Can I look behind the shower?"

"Yes. That door opens to show the plumbing and to top up the salt dispenser."

"Salt?"

"Yes. The fourth tap provides salt water if there is dishwasher salt in the dispenser. I rarely use it. I think there isn't any salt in it now."

I opened the side door, like the rest of the shower, it was beautifully engineered. I could see the empty salt container. The plumbing was modern brass leading from a dual shower pump. That pressurised the cold and hot water supplies. The plumbing went upwards into the loft. I couldn't see any obvious problems.

"I'll have to go in the loft. Have you got a loft ladder, Julie?"

"No need. There's a proper staircase. The loft was once used as servants' bedrooms. They even had gable windows up there but it must have been cold in winter and hot in summer. I'll show you."

I had to keep track of my bearings as we walked along a landing to a staircase leading up to a closed door. Through that door there was another landing with rooms on either side. At the end of the landing there was a low cupboard door in about the right place for above the shower. I took a torch out of my bag and crawled in.

The loft insulation was new and about six inches thick and covered with loose sheets of thick plywood. I had to remove a couple of sheets of plywood before I found the plumbing. A couple of minutes later the problem was obvious. Up here the water supply was still in newish copper piping but where it crossed a beam someone must have stood on it. The pipe was flattened. How? I didn't know. It must have taken considerable pressure to do that. But it would be easy to fix.

"OK, Julie," I shouted back to her. "I think I've found the problem. It'll take me about a quarter of an hour before we can test the shower again."

"OK, Geoff," Julie shouted back. "I'll be downstairs in the kitchen."

I turned off the valve leading from the cold water supply, drained the flattened pipe into a small bucket before cutting it either side of the beam. I drilled a hole through the beam and put a short piece of pipe through the hole. I connected that pipe either side of the beam and turned the supply back on. There were no leaks.

I went back downstairs and tried the shower again. I had to jump backwards as the shower gushed fiercely. Using the shower on full flow might be like standing under a waterfall. I tried the hot and cold taps, turned on and off the horizontal sprays, and even used the salt water tap. Everything worked perfectly.

I went back upstairs, cleaned up around the repair and replaced the insulation. I shut the cupboard door and went back to the bathroom to clean myself up. I took my tool bag downstairs and joined Julie in the kitchen. She must have heard me coming down the stairs. The kettle was boiling.

"This was the problem, Julie," I said showing her the flattened pipe. "Somehow it got squashed. How? I have no idea. But it's fixed now."

"Thank you, Geoff. How can I repay you?" She said as she gave me a cup of tea.

"No need," I replied. "It's nothing compared to all the work you've done on me."

"Oh. Thanks. But I have some bad news for you and the team. Today was my last day. I've got a new post starting tomorrow which might mean, no, WILL mean some weekend working. Dad knows but he hasn't told the club's committee yet."

"Is the new post good for you, Julie?"

"Yes. It's a permanent and pensionable full time job. I'll be working for the health service on much better pay and conditions. Up to now I've only been paid when they want me. Some weeks that's not at all. Even on good weeks I've rarely been paid for more than twenty hours."

"Congratulations. We'll miss you. I'll miss you..."

"Will you, Geoff? You've never said anything."

I sighed.

"I knew you wouldn't date any of the team. You've said so many times. I understood why but..."

"You would have liked to?"

"Of course I would, Julie."

"And now I'm not involved with the team?"

I looked into her smiling face.

"Julie Cox? Would you?"

"Yes, Geoff Jones, I would. When and where?"

"Whenever and wherever you want Julie. I leave our first date as your choice."

"You do?"

"Yes, Julie."

I expected her to suggest a restaurant or something. I didn't expect a full-on body hug and a passionate kiss. I was slow to respond, enjoying the feel of a delightful woman pressed against me. I couldn't avoid a wince as her hand pressed on one of today's bruises.

"Sorry, Geoff," Julie said. "I should have remembered that.

She kissed me again and I forgot the pain.

"So where do want me to take you, Julie?" I asked.

"Can you dance, Geoff?"

"Yes, but I can be a menace on a dance floor because I'm so big."

"How about square dancing?"

"I can but I'd have to be careful not to knock people over."

Julie looked up at me.

"Yes, you are large, Geoff but generally gentle. OK. I've got tickets for the square dance in the village hall tonight. My intended partner won't be there. Would you take me?"

"Of course, Julie. Your intended partner?"

"Was an arsehole. A married arsehole who didn't tell me he was married or that his wife was expecting their first until last night when she went into labour."

"Ouch!" I said.

"Ouch indeed. She deserves better than him. I certainly do, and I've chosen you, Geoff Jones."

"Chosen me?"

"To be my dance partner tonight and maybe more. That depends on how we get on this evening. Can you collect me about seven -- wearing a suit if you have one?"

"Suit? Of course I have a suit. I'm not always a muddy rugby player or a plumber in working clothes, Julie."

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Julie was surprised but impressed when I collected her. I was wearing one of my Savile Row suits, and I had borrowed one of my father's old cars, an early 1960s Bentley. I didn't think my battered and well-used plumber's van fitted my suit.

I hadn't appreciated how little Julie knew about me, She hadn't expected a Savile Row suit, nor the Bentley. Neither of us had ever met except at the Rugby club. While working as a physiotherapist she wore an overlarge shapeless tunic. Now I knew that Julie had shape. She was wearing a heavyweight royal blue circle skirt that was mid-calf length over multiple layers of petticoats. A wide white leather belt emphasised her trim waist. On top she was wearing a tight pastel blue T-shirt strained by her breasts. At first I thought she must be wearing a padded bra or breast enhancers because the difference from the Julie I knew was so marked. As she moved I became very aware that the large breasts were all her own. As she got in the car she pulled a shawl across her shoulders. She seemed to be checking my appearance in my expensive suit as well.

"Does being a plumber pay that well, Geoff?" she asked.

"Well, yes, I do earn a fair amount but the Bentley is my father's and I paid for the suits with dividends from the family company."

"The family company?"

"You don't know? I thought everyone at the Rugby club knew. The company logo is on the kit."

"I didn't know you were part of that company, Geoff."

"That's how I became a plumber, Julie. In my last years at school and when at university..."

"You went to university?"

"I still do. I'm a sessional lecturer, part time, very part-time. I lecture two or three times a term. The rest of the time I'm a plumber which pays better."

"I didn't know, Geoff. I've only seen you in your Rugby kit..."

"Or without it," I added.

Julie blushed. Her hands had been almost all over my naked body.

"...or in a sweater and jog pants. I would not have recognised you in that suit except for your size."

"My tailor would be pleased. He had real trouble designing a suit that minimised my size. Back to plumbing. The family company is a major house builder locally. We're always short of good plumbers. One of my uncles suggested that I should do a part-time apprenticeship that would fit around my school years and when at university. He thought my degree course was too specialised to lead to a well-paid job but plumbers are rarely out of work. He was right on both. I earn far more as a plumber than as a lecturer. As a plumber I always have more work than I could do, but a lecturer in pre-medieval history is rarely needed. My academic qualifications are more use to my father."

"Your father?"

"He is a director of the family company but also on the board of the local archaeological trust. Apart from his professional management qualifications he has a Ph.D in archaeology. He started with that because we have to do an archaeological assessment of every building site before we start building. He worked with the local archaeologists and became fascinated with the subject. He is also an asset to the family company. He can talk to the rescue archaeologists in their jargon and assess whether they need more time because the finds are significant or whether they are just stalling. There is a fair amount of Anglo-Saxon traces locally. My knowledge helps him and the Archaeological Trust."

We had arrived at the Village Hall. I parked the Bentley and opened the door for Julie. She needed both hands to hold her skirt compressed enough to get out. She shook out the skirt and twirled to fluff out the petticoats. She put a hand in the crook of my arm as we entered.

We were one of the first couples to arrive. I got cups of tea for both of us. Julie had claimed a corner table with four seats by spreading her shawl across two chairs, putting her handbag on a third, and sitting on the fourth.

"Expecting someone?" I asked.

"Yes. My sister and her husband. They should be here shortly, Geoff."

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Story 035

Modelling Scam

It was Sunday afternoon. I was sitting in my study typing an essay for my French language evening class. I would have to put in all the accents by hand. My typewriter couldn't do French accents.

The extension telephone rang on my desk.

The operator asked:

"Will you accept a transfer charge call from Wendy James?"

I hesitated. Why? Why Wendy?

"She seems to be in some distress," the operator continued.

If the operator said that, which was against the rules of her job, Wendy must be in real trouble.