A fourth and fifth visit to the salon are arranged — with what on the agenda now?

Andy had gone home last time with his hair trimmed and played with by Jenny. After the shock of her styling him “spikey”, they had laughed out loud. He enjoyed her company. Even at his age, he found himself fancying her to pieces! She was lovely. Clearly at ease with herself. No longer married, she was a free spirit. In control of her own little business. Good with people. Fun to be with and, it was proving to be, quietly understanding of the story about himself that she was encouraging him to tell.

He wasn’t spikey when he left the salon, although the stiffness of the styling mousse had left his hair quite different to touch and to look at. His wife hadn’t noticed. Nor had she noticed him go upstairs and change his clothes……. Removing the underwear that he so loved. She had swallowed the idea of his going to the DIY store and meeting a friend who said they should have a beer together.

He carefully laid the clothes he had worn into the dark recesses of his wardrobe, where the sun never shone! He always put his own clothes away, even when freshly laundered.

He was confident that he wouldn’t have them discovered.

Even if his wife thought he had a stash of such things.

Even if she perhaps knew his fetish hadn’t been forgotten.

Even if he ran the risk of discovery.

He was himself…….. and occasionally, herself!

When could he go back to see Jenny? His diary had been at home, so he was unaware of when his wife would be away again — on one of her “girly” weekends.

That would be when he would go back………….

****************

Jenny thought for a long time after Andy had left last time. She had really enjoyed the time… short and playful though it was.

Yes, it had been in a way she couldn’t describe, or have foreseen, or have expected.

She recalled the touch on his shoulders — several times — and his reaction. He was such a nice guy.

“So what if he’s different?” she said out loud, ….to her mirror.

“So what if I was a bit pushy?”

“So what if he didn’t say yes or no?” (Which he hadn’t.)

“So what if we didn’t fix another appointment?”

“So what if he doesn’t call back?..... if I scared him off” she said, sitting down, still transfixed by her own image in the mirror. “I hope you didn’t!!!” cried the mirror’s image.

What Jenny experienced was a mystery to her. She wanted this nice, seemingly gentle guy to become a friend…. And yet she was tempted to push him further and faster than he might have wished to explore the past feelings he had.

She thought for a long time. He’s a genuinely nice guy. He’s married and happily involved in a secret passion that’s been with him since University days He keeps it secret. He’s too old to turn about more than in his mind’s eye. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. If I can help him, what could be better?

“Getting serious!” she smiled to the mirror.

****************

Andy did call. His next appointment had to be in the middle of the day…….. A month later because he had been travelling on business and had not been near the salon at convenient times.

And it had not gone according to plan — for either him, or for Jenny.

The salon had been busy.

There were women everywhere. Even though it was a tiny salon, the place seemed full of people. Rollers, Foils, Bleaching, Backcombing. Hot air blowers. Any conversation would be overheard. Not ideal at all. Disappointing. So Andy asked for the same style of cut and the same — very slight — amount of cut. He left with his hair quite a bit longer than was usual nowadays.

The conversation was perfunctory. Shallow. About nothing in particular. How were her horses? How was business? How was his work? How did “that DIY” go? He couldn’t say, not in the crowded room. There may only have been six people in there… but that was four too many!

“Please come back again, Sir!” said Jenny as he left, paying for his wash, cut and blow-dry….... He gave her a healthy tip and smiled.

“Perhaps at a different time of day?” Andy said, both expectantly and hopefully. He got the response he wanted.

“Oh, I do agree. Saturday afternoon worked well…. Or perhaps last appointment on a Thursday?”
And he was gone. He would call.
****************

So, it would be the last appointment on a Thursday. When his wife was away for the night in London, with her girly friends. Going to see ‘Calendar Girls’ on the stage. OK, he’d gone with her to the film. It was ok. But she wanted time with her girlfriends. Nice dinner. Chat… loads of Chat, none of which any husband or partner would understand.

When he called, Jenny answered. It had been two weeks and she had those conversations with the mirror several times. But he called. She was delighted. He could tell from her voice.

“What time’s your last booking?” Andy asked. “I can do any time…”

Jenny thought. How long to finish the woman who’d be the last in before him. She was a high maintenance client. She would be having roots tinted, a cut and a set. It was the set that would take the time…… Maybe she could be convinced to have a blow-dry….. with loads of lacquer!

“I’ll be free around 5.30….. maybe fifteen minutes later…… Or earlier if I can!” Jenny said, as if anticipating a problem.

“No problem at all. I’ll be there for 5.45 then…..” Andy paused….

“How long might this take?” he asked…… meaning ‘more than just a cut’.

“Well, it does depend, on lots of things. But I’d say an hour or maybe longer.” Jenny was hopeful.

She thought she knew what he meant. He meant what she’d said about colour.

She thought it would take at least that long, if she played around with his style as well.

She realised that she didn’t know his name, beyond “Andy”.

She reflected on the booking, there in front of her mirror. She should treat it as a simple wash and cut, like before. She would continue the conversation, just asking him about the past.

She wanted to ask. What was this lady with the PhD like, who was older than him. What did they do together. Did he consider them to be ‘an item’ at any time. Did his first girlfriend ever come back into the frame. Not too many questions, or he’d clam up. She was sure of that.

She wanted to get inside his head. How did he really feel about his exploits with his hair and with ‘turnabout’ parties. How did his friends get used to his different looks?

Jenny had never had a customer like Andy.

OK, sure, she had dressed the hair of guys who were “going to a party” when she was sure they were doing nothing of the sort. OK, she knew that — in the Seventies — there was a lot of ‘gender-bending’ that people enjoyed as a natural thing to experiment with. That was all before the world started classifying people as “gay”, or “not gay”, it seemed. There was almost something wrong with you if you were NOT homosexual.

Andy clearly wasn’t.

Jenny liked him.

Andy put the phone down, his heart racing as before. He had made the appointment.

He would be free for the Thursday night and the whole of Friday. His wife would be home late the following day, having stayed over in town. The whole of Friday too!

He spent much of the next hour in deep concentration, putting aside how the Thursday would pan out. He had a job to finish. He ran his hand through his hair, repeatedly but absent-mindedly. Not thinking. He would wash it tonight, and just imagine what Jenny might do with it.

His mind tripped into “what to wear” mode and he thought of the few things he had kept — apart from the underwear that he so loved and kept refreshing. That halter neckline was always just too over the top — he hadn’t needed to shave his chest to carry it off all those years ago, but he most certainly would now. Then there was the “Dallas” ensemble that was “OTT” in another way — not revealing, but skin-tight and glammy. Trouble with that was how much weight he’d put on. Even with the ‘Bodyshaper’ he’d bought from M&S and which held him in quite well….. Damn! He needed new clothes! He decided to select the right underwear for now.

Two weeks to go! Trepidation! …… What would the salon visit bring……??!

Maybe, just maybe, he would buy some new underwear……?!!

****************

He did. Buy new underwear. Beautiful lacy panties and a bra to match — one with underwiring to squeeze what he had into shape. And suspenders, with a pair of firm control stockings that would give shape and shine to his legs. They would be hidden under his outer clothes, but that didn’t matter at all. He knew they were there. He could feel them.

Reluctantly, he decided not to wear — or even buy — any girly outer clothes.

There was a real danger this whole experience would run away with him if he wasn’t careful!

On the Thursday in question, he kissed his wife goodbye at the station — and off she went to gather with her three friends. Four of them would be on the London train at pre-breakfast time.

Five hours — all for the theatre and a night out. He could do without Calendar Girls. And he could do well with the time alone!

As he left the station, he drove back to the village with his mind racing ahead of time.

It wasn’t even breakfast time yet…… He would have a bath and he would spend time doing anything but DIY all day. He would walk for a while, taking in the cliff-top views and the hazy sunshine. He’d be thinking about the evening to come…… Maybe, just maybe, he would rustle though his wife’s skirts and tops to find something comfortable for the daytime. He wouldn’t wear those to the salon…… He couldn’t……

An hour tonight! Or at least an hour or maybe more, with Jenny in the little salon down in the village. He couldn’t wait.. but he had to!

The day passed slowly. His mind wandered back to Uni days then to other times he had yet to tell Jenny about. There was lots he could — he just felt he could — tell her.
Four O’Clock……. Then Four thirty came round, then it was time to prepare. He had his undies on. He’d had his bath this morning. He shaved as close as he possibly could, leaving clear skin.

Did he dare wear foundation, and maybe lipstick?

No, he couldn’t do that.

He’d love to, but he couldn’t…… The undies would be superb…and enough!

Five O’Clock came round, and Andy looked at the clock nervously. Jenny would be busy — she wouldn’t be thinking about him……

How wrong he was…….

Jenny had the roots of the woman, who was her last client before Andy, pasted with tint. She was running behind…. This was going to take longer than she planned…. Especially if she wanted a roller set — That would take them past Six O’Clock……

“I do think your hair would look super if you’d let me blow-dry it and style it the way you’ve described….. You might be able to take care of it yourself if I did…. Well, just sometimes…. You know…. Freshen up your look before going out?” Jenny asked the woman, almost imploring her to agree……. But she wouldn’t hear of it.

“No, no, Jenny. You’re much too good as a stylist for me to compete…. Anyway, I just love sitting back and enjoying your work!” broadly smiling, “Mrs. Bouffant” said. So, rollers it had to be. When the tint was washed out, the rollers we started. Jenny worked like a demon to get them in and get “Mrs. Bouffant” under the dome dryer. She gave the woman lots of extra roly-poly curls to make it seem good value! It was now Five minutes to Six.

But this meant that, whilst she was doing that, Andy came into the salon.

Jenny said, not knowing she was about to make a joke at her client’s expense……“Sit down, Sir. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in a little while but “Mrs. Bouffant” here has a special occasion to go to!”

Mrs. Bouffant laughed like a drain!

Andy smiled and studied her hairstyle… It was certainly a work of art!

He had always liked elaborate styles….

He sat and watched, without saying a word. Jenny occasionally looked in his direction, only to find him exploring the books of hairstyles from the coffee table.

Eventually, Mrs Bouffant s done, had paid and was gone. He and Jenny were alone.

There was a moment’s silence and Andy felt he had to break the ground before them. Summoning up some courage, he said…

“Jenny, thank you for suggesting the end of the day. Last time I was in, it was just like bedlam in here. You must live your life like that….. It’s much better for me to be here now… I enjoy talking with you so much, it’s best like this…………..”

Jenny smiled and said: “Well, we can take as long as you like this evening. Shall we begin with a wash?” She noticed the peeking of a stocking between his socks and trousers. She looked more closely at the outline of his shirt, noticing that there were give-away lines that betrayed the bra that lay snugly beneath.

Andy had spent much of the day in a skirt and blouse of his wife’s, through which his bra could be seen with ease… If anyone cared to look. But he had been alone. Feeling comfortable. The stockings and suspenders, bra and panties remained, but otherwise, he was in “boy gear”.

“I’ll just close the door.” Jenny said, reassuringly. She turned the key in the lock.

Andy’s heart skipped a beat. Sixty years of age — what had he gotten into?!

“I’m delighted that you decided to come back, Andy” Jenny whispered, spoof-Stage-style with a finger over her lips. “We can enjoy ourselves a little, unlike when the place is so busy…”

Andy thought “Perhaps I should’ve dared to wear some make-up” but said nothing for a moment.

Then, “You make the place feel so welcoming.. I mean, not just for me, but for everyone.”

“Well, I do try, but it’s not as if I have to work at it…. I just like people coming in through that little door. They’re all so different……” Jenny was genuine in what she said. “Take you and the lovely Mrs. Bouffant, as I called her…… You couldn’t be more different…….”

“Perhaps on the outside…” Andy ventured and then stopped……..

“How so?” Jenny asked, almost reading his mind…….

“Well, she’s a lady, I’m a man……… But, er….. um… well…. There are, er… things inside us that are similar….. Like she wants to look good…. And, er.. to make herself something more than she is.. if you, er….see what I mean……” Overcome by nerves.. from nowhere…. Andy stopped.

WHY was he hesitating, almost stammering…… where had these nerves come from???!!

“Hey, hey…. Take it easy…” Jenny interrupted. “…. Don’t be stressed… It’s ok, really it is….. Let’s take a few minutes…. Sit back down…. Tell me about your time since you were here…..” She wanted to calm him down — to divert his attention. “I’ll make you a coffee……”

Andy drew a deep breath and sat back down where he had been looking st the styling books. Recovering his composure took longer than he thought…. He said nothing for a while as Jenny made the coffee. He just sat fumbling with the styling books, not really looking at them, more occupying his hands….

Jenny came over and sat beside him and talked as if nothing had happened.

“There now, two coffees. How’s your week been this week? What have you been doing?” She went on and the conversation slowly opened up. Andy was conscious again that he was sitting here dressed in beautiful women’s underwear, talking with a gorgeous woman who was about to ‘do’ his hair….. How she would ‘do’ it, he wasn’t sure — would he have any choice? Probably so, but what choices to make? Andy sipped his coffee as they talked until Jenny decided it was time and that Andy was ready, to move on.

“Now, last time you were here, we just did you a trim and a wash, didn’t we? I got the distinct feeling that you were wanting me to do some more, but the place was too busy. Am I right?”

“Well, yes, you are…….” Andy replied.

“And we’d talked about your early days, hadn’t we, when you were changing your hair quite a lot, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes, you’re right….”

“And you had the chance to parties, shall we say, dressed differently?”

“Well, yes…”

“Andy, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Jenny smiled, one of her “winning” smiles.

“You guessed”….” Andy laughed, relaxing for the first time since arriving.

“I couldn’t avoid guessing!....... And you were a blonde for a whole year and then went on to be a Redhead……… Why did you choose to change?” He had never explained….

“Oh, simple really, I’d got bored — even though Sarah had changed the colour quite often, I was bored with it, and everyone around me kind of accepted that was ‘me’ — so I wanted to change the ‘me’ they saw. Bit of a shock tactic, I guess. And then there was the argument about my roots and Sarah wanting me to wear them.. like a fashion statement. I’d always been phobic about them.. She knew that… I had her bleach the roots every two weeks…… “

“But that doesn’t explain why Red??” Jenny asked.

“Better Red than dead! I suppose” laughed Andy. “No, I’d always loved Redheads through my teens and being blonde hadn’t been my choice — Sarah had pulled that surprise on me… But we kept my hair blonde as it had the “wow” factor, I guess….”

“So, Red was your first love?”

“Indeed it was……… Red hair is sexy — d’you know what I mean……. Abut that time, I do remember, there was a programme on telly, called “Rock Follies” and I fell in love with Rula Lenska, the Redhead in the show. She was gorgeous — still is, though you don’t see her much….. Beautiful red hair in a riot of curls….. Stunning!”

“I see,…. Andy, it’s time to think about you…. You were looking in the styling books here,…” Jenny said, picking one up. “….. ….. Do you see any styles here you remember … any that were really attractive?.......” She placed the book firmly in his hands and sat back, saying nothing more.

She wanted him to engage with the whole spectrum of women’s hairstyles that were in the book…

Silence………….

Andy thumbed through the pages, very slowly, admiring several styles but saying nothing.

Jenny watched, closely, seeing which styles he paused upon, and which he passed over quickly. Andy clearly only had time for styles with long hair. Some perfectly smooth and straight, some with lustrous curls flowing, some with tighter formal ‘dressing’ and some attractive ‘up-dos’. None, it seemed were short. Femininity, it seemed, was coupled with long hair in his mind.

All of which made Jenny certain that the ‘ little surprise’ she had waiting for Andy would be right. He hadn’t had long hair for ages and ages. Tonight, he could have it if he wanted.

“You haven’t chosen any….” she said, pushing him just a little.

“There are too many…” Andy replied quite wistfully. He loved too many of them.

“OK, narrow them down then… Just look at this section — for Redheads…….” Jenny folded the book to reveal where, among sections for every hair colour, Redheads were clustered together..
“Just choose me three…. So I really know what you like….”

Andy was deep in concentration now… loving every minute. He looked up and just said “You’re very special, you know that…” She laid her hand on his, on the styling book, and smiled.

After a minute or two, he said, “There…. Three…… The first is this one,….” He had chosen a fabulous auburn pageboy Bob, with sleek sides and a full fringe, raised at the crown with light back-brushing.

“Second, this one…” A beautiful arrangement of burgundy-coloured curls, large ones, with some lighter highlights. The curls were those that stood up all around the model’s head by two or three inches, evidently “set” but inviting hands to be run through.

“Lastly, this one….” An up-do, arranged with a short fringe and a cluster of tightly piled curls at the crown and down to the nape of the neck. This was more a light auburn almost strawberry colour. The back of the head was shown in detail, with the curls pinned to the head.

The models for the photographs were all stunning, which exaggerated the attraction of their hair. Their make-up was faultless, their clothes were simple but superb. Beauty, Andy thought, really is in the eye of the beholder. Then, he looked again at Jenny. She too, is stunning… Confident, Easy-going, Great sense of humour, Great looks…..

“And which one of these would be your first choice?” Jenny put him on the spot.

For a reason — though Andy didn’t know why.

“The last one, the third…. It’s just so feminine…..”

“And you’d had your hair like the first style — the Bob — before? What about the second one? Ever been that curly? Ever had highlights?” Jenny’s professional curiosity came to the fore.

“Well, the first, for sure…. I was like that both as a Blonde and as a Redhead. I did like the feeling — so smooth and I thought sexy too. The Curls — oh, the Curls! That’s my Rula Lenska look — If only I had…… But no, not as lovely as that.”

Jenny sat back and thought for a while and made her decision. She would play Andy’s game this week and keep the surprise for next week. Then, and only then, would she ask him to come to the salon dressed. She’d do his make-up and then work some magic to create that style.
“Alright, Sir, we have a contract — for tonight — and one night only — I’ll style your hair and by the time you leave here, you’ll be a Redhead! Not permanently… But you’ll be able to over-night with it until tomorrow…… I told you that I had some fantastic colouring mousses…. Now’s the time for you to choose the colour you want to be!”

Andy knew this moment was coming — or hoped it was — and couldn’t believe that Jenny had just said that. She put a shade selection chart in front of him, with dozens of different tufts of hair, probably synthetic, laced into a card which described each one.

“I have to tell you that colours will be quite vibrant when applied to your base colour.” Grey! Andy’s hair was a mixture of several, some white, some dark, strands. Pepper and Salt, Jenny had called it. Very attractive, but not to everyone’s liking.

“Vibrant??” Andy asked — as if it meant any different… he wasn’t going to be walking down the street or meeting people he knew…… The more vibrant the better, he thought.

“Well,…” Jenny admitted, “…. You can never be sure because of how porous the hair is from person to person. Some absorb much more colour….. But it doesn’t last beyond one or two shampoos….. You get a really bright almost crimson with this one….. A deep burgundy wine colour with this one…. Bright pink with this one….. Cobalt blue with this one….! There are so many. Obviously, they don’t really come out as wild with brown hair as a base… But with yours….. It’ll be great fun!!”

Andy felt a rush of excitement. He would be going home a Redhead, so why not indulge!

“I’m in your hands, dear lady. You know what your clients want better than they do, I’m sure!”

“Tonight, Andy, you’re staying with quite short hair, but you’re going home spikey and bright Burgundy — Sharon Osborne’s colour if you know what I mean!”

He did know…. And that would be delightful. Sharon’s hair was always attractive…..

And so jenny moved him to the shampoo basins and gave him a long slow, quite sultry, wash. She then towel-dried it and moved him to the styling chair where he settled just as before. Nothing had changed. She sectioned the hair and just trimmed a few loose ends.

“You’ll find it grows faster as you let it grow — as you are doing, aren’t you?” She had noticed.

Then Jenny sectioned the hair again and turned to the top tray on a trolley with rollers, pins, dishes and bowls, selecting a tube of something from the lower shelf. That was the colour! Andy knew. It was about to begin. He hadn’t had his hair professionally coloured for twenty five years or more! Where was he going with all this? There was no turning back now!!??

Jenny took a wide stubby brush and spread the colour across the first section of his head, behind and below the crown, pasting the ‘goo’ as she called it to the left and right of the parting. She then slid the point of her tail-comb through the hair and made another section. Andy watched in the mirror. Absolutely transfixed….

“I have to work quickly, because the colour develops fast……but slowest at the back, so that’s where I started.” Jenny said, her hands racing through the work she was doing. Another section, more ‘goo’ and more pasting.

Andy’s thoughts wandered as he studied his reflection in the mirror. Jenny’s did too.

While she worked, neither felt they needed to say anything.

Andy thought how fortunate he had been to have found, in her, the response that probably no other woman within a hundred miles would have given him. He was very lucky. He was glad he had been brave enough to start on this path. Who could tell where it would lead. He found this woman immensely attractive. Not just that, she was hugely empathetic towards him. She was indulging him in his secret obsession. He felt the stirrings of love for her. As she touched his hair, the feeling was electric. He loved the feeling of the clothes he wore. He knew he would never go out — never ‘pass’ as a woman. But that didn’t matter any more. He had never really thought he could.

Jenny’s thoughts flew beyond the work her hands were doing. That was easy. She had coloured hundreds or even thousands of women’s hair in just the same way. It was routine and she was good at what she did. What made this so different was this man. He had trusted her. He had let himself be vulnerable. He had exposed himself to possible ridicule. He was obviously sensitive and caring. He had hidden his irresistible craving from his wife. Mainly to protect her from being hurt.
He wasn’t especially good looking and, at his age, the possibility of his going out dressed the way he dreamed was ridiculous. But he had trusted her with his secret. Let him sit here with his underwear on, luxuriating in the feeling. How could she help him any more?

***************

Three hours later, back home again, standing in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, admiring his own underwear and the look that Jenny had helped create, he was at peace with himself. It was not going to get better than this.

Jenny had finished his hair off, leaving the colour long enough to be a vivid red!

Then, she had suggested…. He wouldn’t have dared to ask… She had suggested that he needed a little make-up to complete the look… “Otherwise, you’re a bloke with a funny haircut!”, she had said. She had used her own cosmetics. Foundation, which covered his many skin blemishes, Eyeshadow, which gave a flash of bright blue. Mascara and Eyeliner, which made his eyes much more a bold focus of his face. And lastly, some lipstick which suited his colours, a deep browny-red with a matt finish. Long-lasting formula. If he was careful, it would last long into the night.

So there he stood.

At this distance from the mirror, looking fantastic. He felt.

The underwear was gorgeous. All slinky and sexy. His tell-tale bulge in the panties had been dealt with in his excitement as soon as he got home.

The bra was snugly fitted. He’d pushed up what chest body mass he could and was pleased with the effect of a bustline. The panties matched prettily. The suspenders were tight and the stockings.. the sheer flesh-coloured stockings were tight and his legs looked shapely. Now, where were those shoes, with the heels!!?

In the back of the wardrobe, where the sun never shone!

***************

Jenny was alone at home now. She reflected on the day. The anticipation of Andy’s visit. The delay with “Mrs. Bouffant” and the nervousness he had betrayed as soon as she left the salon.

She mused over his coyness at some times and his total relaxation at others. His willingness to confide in her. Oh, how she loved that aspect of him! She was pleased she found a way to help further his dream…. The make-up was an inspiration…… It didn’t take long and it seemed to just complete the whole event

Andy had gone away, after they’d sat and talked for nearly an hour more…… She had learnt more about his early life and his ways of living. She’d learnt about his love of feminine things and how this continued. He’d confirmed what she’d guessed, that he was dressed “underneath”.

She had learnt about his career after Graduation — and how his graduation party had been another turnabout affair. He had stayed a Redhead through that time. Then how he’d moved into lecturing at University. She was fascinated by the way he found ways to continue dressing when — to all intents and purposes — his career and life was becoming very conventional. She realised that she knew very little about the world of heterosexual cross-dressers.

But she wanted to know more.

He’d asked only a few questions about her but she felt at ease telling him about her (failed) marriage, how she’d spent some years on cruise ships — doing both beauty and bar work - and how she’d set up in business on her own in this little village near where she was born.

Jenny poured herself (another) Gin, with lemon and only a little tonic water. He was “find”! …A “One-Off” ……Someone to get closer to.

***************

Andy put on a long dressing gown — pretty pink and peach coloured satin. He poured himself another Martini — which was the drink he favoured when dressed. Dry, just with ice and a slice of lemon. Perfect. No Gin. He got pissed if there was Gin!

He put on some music - some of his favourites. Dusty Springfield……. His very favourite.

“I can hardly wait to hold you, feel my arms around you…… How long I have waited, waited just to hold you…………… Don’t ever go……” Dusty sang. Just for him.

“Wear your hair, just for him, do the things he likes to do………Wishin’ and hopin’………”

Girly thoughts………………………… Andy was alone at home.

The phone rang. “Oh, hello, yes, I’m fine… Just watching telly….. How’s London?….. Just got back from the Theatre… Brilliant?! Really, oh I’m sure…… And the meal? Good, that’s a good place to have taken them — right in Covent Garden…. Up on the Terrace… Did you get a good table? Right, just before the Opera crowds…. Me? Oh, nothing much………”

He smoothed out his dressing gown over the silky stockings. He hummed, “Wear you hair…..”

…IN CHAPTER 7……????.