Transvixen
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter One: Panti and Cherri Pops

Panti’s red nailpolished finger lazily circled the glans of Cherri’s erect penis through Cherri’s gauzy nylon pantyhose gusset. Preseminal fluid seeped from Cherri’s palpitating member and darkened the sheer nylon. Cherri’s white satin panties were bunched around her thighs and she bucked and heaved as Panti gripped Cherri’s engorged phallus and stroked it until creamy white semen erupted from the eye of her penis. It formed a warm mellifluous pool that extruded through the nylon gusset and began to soak into her pantyhose. Cherri reached over to the nightstand, took a handful of Kleenex and dabbed at the viscous mess and mopped it up as her erection began to subside.

“That was wonderful Panti,” Cherri sighed.

“My pleasure Cherri; I was only returning the favour,” Panti grinned, taking some of the Kleenex and wiping her sticky fingers.

Panti was dressed in a schoolgirl uniform consisting of a navy blue pleated miniskirt and white satin blouse. She wore tan sheer-to-the waist pantyhose, blue nylon panties and black high heels. Her jet black hair was worn in ringlets and a barette kept her fringe out of her eyes. She was heavily made up with black eyeliner and mascara, colourful eyeshadow and red lipstick; her cheeks rouged. She’d accessorised with silver costume jewellery: earings, necklace, bangles, rings and even an ankle chain.

Cherri wore a black satin and lace French maid’s costume.

Cherri’s real name was Mike Murphy and Panti’s real name was Steve Grayson and they were both twenty two year old crossdressers.

But let’s start at the beginning; which is to say it was a little over a year ago that Panti and Cherri had started crossdressing together…

Steve Grayson had started crossdressing at an early age; he lived with his mother who had given birth to Steven when she was sixteen and had never named the father. Steve’s mother Wendy had struggled to raise her son and worked two jobs whilst taking night classes in business management. At thirty eight she was still a looker and ran a small entertainment management business.

Wendy returned home early one day from her office one day and found her son Steven dressed in her nylons, panties, satin full-slip and a rather rudimentary attempt at makeup. Rather than berating her son she asked him why he found dressing in her lingerie and wearing makeup so appealing. He was eighteen at the time and, besides having very few friends and little interest in sports and manly pursuits, he seemed normal. He excelled at the arts and was already an accomplished guitarist in a semi-professional rock band.

He explained to her how wonderful it felt dressing that way but that he was not gay but was fascinated with women’s clothing and had developed a fetish for crossdressing.

Wendy and Steven had always been honest with each other and were very much pals as well as being mother and son. This did not prevent Wendy from sending Steven to a psychiatrist who informed her that her son was fetishistic crossdresser. That is, he had a fascination with dressing as a woman for both non-sexual reasons but also for sexual gratification but did not exhibit homosexual tendencies.

“So I’m unlikely to find him as a back alley transvestite sucking the cock of some middle aged pervert,” she responded.

“Oh precisely the opposite. He has a mild Oedipus complex. He likes to dress like his mother and has sexual fantasies about having an intimate relationship with someone who presents as yourself,” the psychiatrist explained.

Wendy Grayson was dressed in a tight-fitting business suit, her skirt very short and her satin blouse and jacket very tight. She wore heavy makeup, sheer pantyhose on her shapely legs, black stiletto high heels, her hair coiffured in a shoulder length bob and she walked around in a miasma of perfume. Her jewellery was big and glitzy. It was ‘her look’ as a professional theatrical agent.

“So he doesn’t want to fuck his mother or suck the cock of some transvestite admirer,” she blew out a plume of cigarette smoke.

“On the contrary; he wants to dress in a similar fashion to yourself and his fantasy is to have relations with someone who dresses the same. I would perceive another crossdresser who dressed the same way,” the doctor went on.

“But I would think it would not involve coitus or possibly even fellatio. Steven is looking for affection and his fantasies run more to foreplay and intimacy rather than any form of penetration,” he concluded.

“Ok Doc. So to summarise: he doesn’t want to fuck his mother or have sex with a man; he just wants to dress up like a sexy woman and if he met a crossdresser with the same peccadillos, they would engage in non-penetration mutual satisfaction,” Wendy stubbed out her cigarette.

“That’s just my initial assessment Ms Grayson. I will need longer with Steven to get deeper into his psyche,” the psychiatrist explained.

“Don’t bother Doc; you’ve confirmed what I thought all along,” Wendy slid out of the chair, smoothed her skirt and dropped fifty quid on the psychiatrist’s desk.

“Ms Grayson please! It doesn’t work like this! You can’t…”

His pleas were lost on Wendy Grayson.

She went straight home and confronted her son.

“Come with me Steven,” Wendy said and led him upstairs to her bedroom.

“Sit!” she pointed to the chair in front of her vanity table.

“Ok watch me,” she said.

Wendy rifled through her wardrobe and laid out on her bed a black miniskirt, white satin blouse, a black satin bra and panty set, a packet of sheer-to-the-waist taupe pantyhose, and a pair of black shiny high heels.

“Ok; that should do you; now turn and face the mirror and pay close attention.”

She painstakingly applied cosmetics to Steven’s face until he looked perfect and then had him remove the makeup, then had him do it again and again until he made a fair job of it. Then she showed him how to brush out his curly, black, shoulder-length hair and she cut his fringe straight. She also showed him how to paint his nails with nailpolish.

“You’ll need to practice the eyeliner; that’s the hardest bit to master but you’ll get better with practice,” She said blowing a plume of smoke from her cherry-red lips.

“What’s going on mom?” Steven stammered.

“I’ve seen your psych and he told me about you. Says you will likely always want to dress as a woman. Say’s it’s likely something to do with you being an only child and not having a dad and wanting to dress like me. Like I’m some sort of role model,” she stubbed out her cigarette.

“So if you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it in your own home where you’re safe from the perverts out there who like young men like you.”

“Mom! I told the doctor I’m not a homo!” Steve blurted out.

“Yeah I get it. But anyway I’ll teach you how to dress right and you can do it here. You can use my makeup and those clothes for now but this weekend we are going shopping and I’m buying you your own clothes and makeup,” she lit another menthol cigarette.

“Strip,” she said.

“Mother! I’m not getting naked in front of you!” he squealed.

“Fuck! You even sound like a girl. Don’t you think I haven't seen you naked thousands of times before; now get naked,” she demanded.

Sheepishly Steven disrobed.

“Ok come over to the bed, sit and put out your legs,” Wendy said.

Steven did as he was told and watched fascinated as his mother ripped the cellophane off the packet of sheer pantyhose with her teeth and removed the nylons from the cardboard packaging.

Steven sighed as his mother smoothed one leg of the silky hosiery, then the other up his legs. He loved the feel of the cool nylon on his legs and had been secretly shaving his legs since puberty; not that he was very hirsute anyway. In fact he hardly had any facial or body hair at all.

“Stand!” his mother ordered and he did; the pantyhose bunched around his knees.

Wendy smoothed the nylons up his thighs and pulled the gusset up around his belly. She noticed he was becoming tumescent and ignored it. She tucked his member between his legs and used the gusset of the hosiery to keep it there.

Steven was blushing a deep red at his arousal and blushed further when Wendy smoothed the wrinkles out of the hose, causing him to become nearly erect. His turgid member strained at the pantyhose crotch.

“Now step into these,” she opened the waistband of the black full-cut panties and Steven stepped into them.

The satin panties whispered against the sheer hosiery as she slid the garment up his legs and pulled them snug.

Steven nearly fainted with pleasure and lust at the feel of the delicate garments against his skin and the intimacy of having his mother’s hands smoothing the flimsy lingerie. She was so close to him and he felt her feathery breath on his skin and inhaled her perfume.

“There! Not too bad. Not too much of a bulge even though this thing seems to not want to behave itself,” Wendy laughed.

His mother slid a fingernail along her son’s semi-hard penis trapped between layers of satin and nylon.

Steven shuddered but remained standing.

Wendy fastened the matching bra around her son’s chest having adjusted the straps. She was able to clip it in place at the back but it was tight.

“Lucky you’re a slight build Steve so it looks like most of this will fit but we’ll have to go up a bra size tomorrow. You can stuff a pair of pantyhose into the cups so it looks like you have tits until we come up with something better.”

Steve nodded. He’d tried on a few of his mom’s bras before and he knew they were a tight fit and he had previously stuffed the cups with socks or stockings to give the illusion of breasts.

Wendy helped him button the blouse; he struggled a bit because the buttons were on the opposite side and he wasn’t used to it. She had him step into the black miniskirt and he groaned once more as the garment slid up his legs and his mother adjusted it so the hem sat high on his thighs.

The high heels were a struggle. They were a real tight fit and Wendy said to maybe just leave them but Steven insisted. This was the first time he had dressed up fully as a women and he wanted everything.

“You won’t be walking very far in those,” Wendy laughed.

Her laughter eased the tension.

“Can I see mom?” Steven implored his mother.

“Stay there or you will go arse over tits. I’ll wheel the full-length mirror over so you can see,” Wendy said and did just that.

“Wow!” Steven gasped when he saw the attractive young woman staring back at him from the mirror.

Wendy sidled up to him and once again he drew in her perfume.

“See! You look gorgeous. Now you can see why I want you to only do this here where I can protect you,” she kissed her son on the cheek and she felt him flinch.

“We’ll get you some costume jewellery too so you can accessorise. You can play dressups all you want here and if you find a boy your age who wants to play dressups too that’s ok,” she kissed his cheek again.

“Mom!!!” he whined again.

Wendy gently slid her fingers up Steven’s thigh and stroked him. She felt him shudder. She snaked her fingers across the front of his satin panties and slowly circled her fingers on the front panel.

Steven’s eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

Wendy bit her son’s earlobe and then whispered.

“The shrink told me you like to stroke yourself when you’re dressed like me. He said you would like to find another lad who dresses nice and sexy like me too so you can stroke each other,” she hissed.

“Mom I…I…I” Steven whimpered.

“That’s ok baby. He told me about your Oedipus complex. That you fancy me or someone who looks like me,” she freed his erection from between his legs and it sprang forth pushing against the nylon and satin prison of hose and knicker.

“Oh god Mom!” he groaned.

“You’re a good girl; so I’m going to reward you. This reward will only be forthcoming on special occasions and you are never to tell anyone about it. It’s our special secret ok?” Wendy slowly stroked her son’s throbbing member through the gossamer layers.

Steven nodded vigorously. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open a little and he licked his lips, appreciative of the taste of his lipstick and scent of his mother’s perfume. The closeness of her body and the feel of the feminine apparel he was wearing drove him into a paroxysm of passion and desire for his mother that he knew was so very wrong.

Wendy slowly masturbated her son; her fingers becoming sticky with the wetness of the pre-seminal fluid soaking his panties.

“You really like those panties don’t you?” Wendy tightly squeezed her son’s cock.

He felt his mother’s warm breath in his ear and nodded energetically.

“Well you need a girly name so why don’t I call you Panti? That’s Panti with an ‘I’ because it’s cute,” she blew in his ear and squeezed his cock again.

“Is that a yes?” she teased him by dragging her fingernails lightly along his panty-clad phallus.

“Oh god yes!” Panti moaned.

Wendy gave her new girl Panti release and vigorously rubbed Panti’s erection through the silky confinement of her underwear until Panti ejaculated and hot semen flooded her knickers.

Wendy licked Panti’s ear as she orgasmed and pulled her tight so their bodies were touching intimately as she drained the last of Panti’s ejaculate.

When Panti had finally finished her orgasm Wendy kissed Panti’s cheek then let her go but she held Panti’s skirt away from her body so the semen wouldn’t stain it.

“Here honey; hold your skirt away from your messy panties and go down to your bathroom and clean up. Mommy’s going to use the ensuite,” Wendy guided Panti to the bedroom door.

Wendy clattered over to her ensuite on her high heels, slammed the door shut and leaned her back against it. She pulled up her skirt and jammed her hand between her legs. She was surprised at how wet she was; her own knickers and pantyhose were soaked. She jammed a hand down the waistband of her pantyhose and parted her labia and found her clitoris engorged and highly sensitive. It took only a couple of featherlight stokes and she came; her heels clattering on the tiled floor. She slid down the door and sat on the cold tiles with her legs folded under her, shuddering and panting.

Mike Murphy arrived on the scene about a year later when Steve’s band Vixen had advertised for a second lead guitarist when the incumbent decided to go backpacking through Asia and Australia.

Mike was rail thin and had long straight blonde hair that came down to his waist. He wore skin-tight jeans and a ripped T-shirt that clung to his frail fame.

He looked like a rocker and when he lit up his cherry-red Gibson SG, Steve smiled and nodded to the rest of the band who were also smiling. Steve slung his black Les Paul and they jammed through some Stones and Thin Lizzy, joined by the rest of the band; ‘Snoot’ Bizjack on bass, Bob Little on drums and their singer, Phil Benson.

Steve and Mike were comparable in their guitar skills; both good and fast and knew instinctively how to play around each other, taking turns at rhythm and lead and often playing ‘double lead’ like Scott Gorham and Brain Robertson of Thin Lizzy fame. But they were both ‘copycat’ guitarists. They sat down and learned a song note for note and chord for chord but neither had any real skills at writing original music of their own.

Not that it mattered; Vixen was a ‘cover band’ and made good money on the circuit playing the rock classics that their audiences wanted to hear.

Steve invited Mike around to his place often; and as Wendy managed Vixen she was glad to hear the two practicing. As well as being her son; Steve’s band was also a money maker for her, although their audiences were dwindling and revenues declining.

Mike first became suspicious of Steve one afternoon when they were sitting in Steve’s room smoking and listening to records after a practice session. He noticed the footlet of a stocking sticking out of one of Steve’s dresser drawers and when Steve went to use the toilet he opened the draw and found a small pile of lingerie and hosiery, a cosmetic case and box of costume jewellery.

Mike had a nylon and panty fetish and he caressed the silky garments and found himself becoming aroused. He checked the corridor and saw that Steve was still in the bathroom and he quickly opened the draw again and stole a pair of pantyhose and shoved them down the front of his jeans.

Then he opened Steve’s wardrobe and saw that one half of it was full of women’s clothing. All miniskirts, silk and satin blouses and even a woman’s business suit. He knew that Steve lived alone with his mother and at first thought that maybe Wendy kept an overflow of her clothing in Steve’s room; but that made no sense.

When Steve returned from the bathroom Mike said he needed to go and he locked himself in the bathroom and, as he had done many times before, he rummaged through the laundry basket until he found a pair of Wendy’s soiled panties.

He lifted them to his face and inhaled the musty smell of his friend’s mother’s vagina and opened his flies. He pulled out the sheer pantyhose he had stolen from Steve’s room and slid his erect penis into one of the legs and stroked his cock, coming almost immediately.

It was only when he saw the sodden mess in the pantyhose he’d stolen that he realised his dilemma. In the past he had masturbated into Wendy’s panties and thrown them back into the hamper with the understanding they would go into the wash and Wendy and Steve would be non the wiser. But now he’d ejaculated in a pair of pantyhose that were likely to be missed.

He wiped the mess as best he could and considered rinsing them but knew he wouldn’t have time to dry them so he patted the wet semen with a towel and stuffed them in his jeans pocket. He went back to Steve’s room and asked if Steve wouldn’t mind going down and getting them both a beer.

As soon as Steve left, Mike put the pantyhose back into the drawer from where he’d stolen them and tried to arrange things as best he could before he stole the nylons.

Steve found the spunk-stained pantyhose that night when he was dressing as Panti and he knew immediately who had stained them. He finished getting dressed and went down stairs to have dinner with Wendy. When he wasn’t performing, Steve spent every evening at home dressed as Panti.

“Mom look at this,” Panti held up the gauzy nylons with the silvery stain in one of the legs.

“Well I know what that is, so what’s the problem?” she smiled knowingly.

“I’m sure Mike did it,” Panti said concernedly.

“Oh I’m sure he did doll. He’s been wanking in my dirty knickers ever since he started coming around,” Wendy smiled and sipped a glass of wine.

Panti looked gobsmacked at her mother.

“It’s not like we can accuse him of being a pervert. After all you’re a closet transvestite, and when you’re a good girl now and then, I give you hand relief which is actually incest,” Wendy smirked.

Panti continued to look dumbfounded.

“Panti; I think you should introduce yourself to Mike the next time he comes around,” Wendy smiled.

“I think you will be surprised at the outcome.”

“Really?” Panti still wasn’t sure.

“Yes Really; but make sure I’m home when you do it so we can deal with the consequences one way or the other,” Wendy grinned.

“Now let’s have dinner and if you’re a good girl mommy might give you a treat,” Wendy winked.

Mike called around the next day and Wendy answered the door. Wendy was amused as Mike did his usual double-take whenever he met Wendy. She noticed the bulge growing in his tight jeans. Mike was twenty one and Wendy being thirty seven; there really wasn’t that much of age difference.

Wendy was wearing her tightest fitting business suit with the shortest skirt. He large breasts pushed against her cream satin blouse; her heels were so high Mike wondered how she walked in them. And oh god those legs! They went on forever; clad in shimmering hose, shapely, long and well defined. She was surrounded by her usual effluvium of perfume and her makeup was perfect from her glistening cherry-red lips to long red, almost cruel painted fingernails.

“Steve’s upstairs,” she turned sideways in the doorway indicating he should pass her and purposely leaned into him as he passed.

Wendy did this deliberately so that Mike had to brush against her in the tight entry. She ensured her breasts rubbed against his chest and her thighs brushed against his manhood and smiled with amusement when he blushed and stammered something resembling a hello.

Mike vaulted up the stairs and flung open the door to his mate’s bedroom, bumbled his way inside and slammed it behind him. He was shaking a little and overexcited.

“Steve! Your mom; what the fuck is going on there man? I mean…” Mike began to rant then stopped mid-sentence.

Standing before him was an apparition that was identical to Wendy, except a little younger.

“Hi Mike,” Panti said.

Panti was standing with her legs forming a perfect ‘A’, her short skirt tight at the top her thighs. She was wearing the same navy blue business suit and cream satin blouse as her mother. She was barely able to balance on her high heels.

Steve was still speechless and stood staring but the growing bulge in his jeans gave away his intent.

“Mom bought us matching suits. Don’t you like it?” Panti smiled with perfect red lipsticked lips.

“Fuck Steve!” Mike choked.

“My name is Panti with an ‘I’ and you can’t fuck me but you can touch me if you like,” she grinned.

Mike walked over and took a closer inspection of Panti. She was gorgeous; just like her mother. She was even wearing the same perfume.

Mike reached out and tentatively touched Panti’s thigh and marvelled at the feel of the diaphanous nylon.

“I know you have a nylons fetish Mike; I’ve seen the evidence and apparently you like panties too,” Panti tittered.

She lifted the hem of her skirt and gave Mike a peek of her black satin panties and Steve’s fingers went straight to them and caressed the silky knicker fabric.

Both Panti and Mike groaned.

Mike withdrew his hand.

“But how can you? Why do you? Does Wendy know?” Mike stammered.

Panti sat on her bed and patted the coverlet indicating for Mike to sit down beside her which he did but he couldn’t make up his mind whether to stare and Panti’s lovely legs or her beautiful face.

Panti reached down and took two cans of lager out of a cooler and gave them to Mike.

“Open mine please Mike; those ringpull tabs always fuck up my nailpolish,” Panti smiled at her bewildered friend.

Mike opened them both, gave one to Panti and took a long pull on his.

“Okay. Best I begin at the beginning,” Panti said.

Half an hour later Panti had finished her tale only omitting the part that her mother occasionally gave her hand relief.

“Any questions?” she asked.

Mike sat sullen and speechless for a little while then his face broke into a mischievous grin.

“Yeah. Just one. What does it feel like?” Mike slid his fingers along Panti’s thigh.

Panti laughed.

“Dressing like this? It feels fucking sensational,” she chuckled.

“Then can I ask one more?” Mike enquired.

“Sure,” Panti replied.

“Can you dress me?” Mike smirked red faced.

Panti smiled at her friend, fellow muso, and confidant.

“I can’t wait,” she grinned.

“Now shuck off your clothes and jump in that chair,” she squealed.

As Mike began to undress, Panti ran to the landing and called downstairs.

“Mom! Come and help me dress Mike!”

Wendy smiled to herself, stubbed out her cigarette, and began to climb the stairs.

Mike turned out to be easy to crossdress. He was thin but had shapely legs and almost no body or facial hair just like Panti. His long straight blond hair brushed out beautifully. He fit into Panti’s clothes and shoes too.

An hour later they had finished and Mike looked as stunning as Panti.

Wendy got them to stand side by side. They looked like two glammed-up young women and were passable as female unless you looked extremely close.

“Mmm? We need a name that suits you so you’re going to be Cherri. Cherri with an ‘I’ because it’s cute and because Panti and Cherri sound cute together,” Wendy smiled.

“So I’ll leave Panti and Cherri to get acquainted and get back to work,” she smiled at her two proteges.

Wendy made her way down the stairs happy that she accomplished her mission to find her son another crossdresser to play with knowing he was safe. What they decided to do together she concluded would be up to them; they were adults after all, but from what Panti’s psychiatrist had said they were most likely to just experiment with foreplay.

She figured that would happen sooner rather than later as both she and Panti were acutely aware of Cherri’s erection when they helped her with her pantyhose and knickers. Wendy didn’t touch Cherri intimately and neither did Panti when they were dressing her; but she doubted that the girls would leave each other alone for long.

Cherri was dressed in a tight leather skirt, mauve satin blouse, black pantyhose and a white satin bra and panty set. She had difficulty standing in her black high heels and Panti smiled.

“It takes some getting used to but walking in them will come with practice.”

“God this feels so wonderful Panti. I’ve tried on pantyhose and panties before but this full transformation just feels so exhilarating, wonderful, and I have to say sexy,” Cherri beamed.

“I know. I’m pretty much wet the whole time when I’m dressed. Look at this,” Panti said and lifted her skirt to show Cherri her hard cock pressing against the gusset of her hose and panties.

There was a large wet patch in the front of her panties.

Cherri lifted her skirt and showed Panti the same result.

The two beautiful T-girls looked at each other with lust.

“Can I touch it?” Cherri asked.

Panti walked over and stood facing her pretty friend still holding up her skirt.

Cherri reached out and tentatively touched Panti’s hard cock and it quivered inside the silken trap. They both gasped and then Panti reached out and stroked Cherri. Both girls cocks were quivering and their panties were soaked. They inhaled each other’s perfume and then they both took a step forward until their penises were touching each other though layers of satin and nylon.

They threw their arms around each other and rutted.

Panti and Cherri ejaculated simultaneously; their hot spend mingling as their pulsing penises rubbed against each other. They held each other tightly; their heads on each other’s shoulders as they orgasmed. Both of them were quivering and shuddering with excitement and lust. Their knees buckled and they fell on the bed.

“Well that was fun,” Panti beamed at Cherri as she dabbed at her knickers with a towel.

She passed the towel to Cherri who cleaned up but had become sullen and silent.

“What is it Cherri?” Panti placed a reassuring hand on her fellow T-Girl’s shoulder.

“We didn’t do anything gay did we? Ah fuck! I don’t want to be gay?” Cherri whimpered.

“Fuck no Cherri! Didn’t you ever do the circle-jerk thing with other boys when you grew up?” Panti asked.

“Yeah but that was experimentation!” Cherri replied.

“Well that’s what we just did. Experimented! I don’t know about you but I loved it. I don’t want to kiss you or fuck you or suck your dick! I just love being dressed like this and seeing you dressed the same and feeling our cocks rub through our nylons and panties was wonderful,” Panti explained.

“God these clothes, the makeup, the perfume, the jewellery! It just feels so wonderful,” Cherri smiled.

“Then we will have some rules. No kissing, no fucking, no sucking each other’s cocks; just a bit of hand relief and frottage through our knickers. We always keep our knickers on ok?” Panti smiled back.

“And that’s not gay?” Cherri questioned.

“And that’s not gay cause we only ever do it when we are Panti and Cherri. AND…we tell no one! Absolutely no one! The secret remains with you, me, and mom!” Panti grinned.

“Agreed!” Cherri beamed.

They shook hands awkwardly.

“Now show me the rest of your wardrobe and lingerie! Can I buy some and leave it here? Oh and will you teach me makeup? And…” Cherri was rambling.

Panti put a finger to her friend’s lips.

“Settle down and I’ll teach you everything I know,” Panti grinned…

And so it was a year later that Wendy sat downstairs while Panti and Cherri played dressups and found sexual relief with each other, while she worried about the future of her son’s band Vixen.

Wendy managed a few solos performers and another band that was making a decent living and paying her a healthy percentage of their profits but Vixen had not made her a penny for over six months. If her son wasn’t in the band she would have cut them loose ages ago.

It wasn’t that they weren’t good musicians it was just that there were so many ‘hair’ bands doing rock covers on the circuit and there were only so many venues and gigs. Vixen’s popularity was dying and it was only their hard and fast followers or ‘groupies’ who came to their performances and dwindling crowds meant dwindling profits.

All of the members of Vixen except Steve had taken second jobs as the band’s fortunes had waned and her son told her there was talk of breaking up the band.

Wendy was an astute business woman and well regarded in the light entertainment industry. She knew all the band needed was a ‘hook’ to bring in the crowds; their music and live performances were as good as any of the other cover bands, but where was the ‘hook’? The something special? The something unique to Vixen?

Some other bands had changed music styles to heavy metal or even country rock but Vixen really was a good rock and roll band and had no inclination to change. Some bands had done the Kiss thing and wore crazy makeup and costumes but that market was now flooded. There really was an overabundance of lycra-clad, long-haired, rockers. Wendy had been racking her brains trying to find Vixen a hook but couldn’t think of one.

She looked at her watch and noticed it was only one hour until Vixen were due to rehearse and glanced at the stairs. When Panti and Cherri got together they often forgot what time it was as if they disappeared into their own little world. She’d have to go up and tell them to get changed and get ready for rehearsal.

She got halfway to the top of stairs when she heard the rattle and hum of guitars being plugged into amplifiers. They kept a practice amp each in Steve’s room so they could work on riffs and practice playing with and against each other, which was the band’s trademark; two lead guitars. They burst into a rendition ‘Jailbreak’ just as she got to the top of the stairs.

“Fuck, why can’t they wait until they get together with the rest of the fucking band; the neighbours will be complaining again,” she hissed.

Wendy flung open the door to Steve’s bedroom and was about to tell them to shut the fuck up when she suddenly stopped and stood transfixed.

There were two gorgeous and sexy T-Girls dressed in their French maid and schoolgirl costumes, heavy makeup, one blonde and one black haired, long legs apart, high heels wide, standing side by side with their guitars slung low pounding out hard rock. They looked amazing.

“Fuck! I think I’ve found the ‘hook’,” she whispered to herself.

To be continued…