Speed Trap.

Fiction by Johnny Cumlately.

Robert Whitehead, always known as Bob, was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He was an only child and his parents doted on him. His Dad was a pharmacist and owned three chemists shops in a large seaside town popular with tourists for most of the year, so there was a steady income from both tourists and local residents. The family lived in a large house on the edge of town. It was always understood that Bob would one day inherit the business. He had a good education, achieved good grades and later went to college where he graduated with distinction as a pharmacist.

He had a passion for sports cars and was given a beautifully restored 1948 MG/TC for his 21st birthday. He always kept that car but also had a succession of others over the years. He was regarded as a prime catch for a local girl but for him cars always appeared to come first and he did not form any lasting attachments.

Inheriting the family business came all to soon. He was 32 when both parents were killed in a helicopter crash in Nepal. They were keen travellers who loved to visit the remoter parts of the world. The chopper came down in the foothills of the Himalayas, killing the pilot and all six passengers.

What no one, even Bob's parents, ever knew was that his other passion in life was cross dressing. He had always kept it a very closely guarded secret but now living alone in a large house and with plenty of money, he began to indulge in his hobby regularly and quickly built up a large wardrobe of clothes. As far as girl friends were concerned, he kept his distance as he did not see them as sexual partners but rather as the girls he wanted to copy. For a femme name he chose Miranda.

He taught himself the skills of make up and it was this, together with his pharmacist skills which led
to a business opportunity. He devised a range of cosmetics specially for cross dressers and trans-gendered people who needed effective coverage but the ability to remove it easily without leaving any tell tale traces. He started selling them on the internet under the name “Miranda's transmetics” and quickly built up a small but lucrative business. Initially, he operated the new business alone from his home in his spare time.

As a prominent shop keeper in the town, he was soon persuaded to join the local golf club and Chamber of Commerce. However, it was his love of fast cars which eventually led to his undoing.

He loved “wind in the hair” motoring, so always had the top down whenever the weather permitted. He was careful to observe speed limits and knew the location of all the fixed cameras in the area. However, one day he was caught at 44 mph in 30 area by a mobile speed van. The first he knew of it was when a buff envelope fell through the letterbox. As usual in these cases, it required him to identify the driver and warned that a fine would probably be imposed, together with penalty points on his licence. He swore gently but confirmed that he had been the driver and posted the form back without further thought. In due course, choosing not to appear in court, he was fined £100 and three penalty points.

Several weeks later, there was a ring at the front door. It was answered by an attractive girl with long blond hair. She was casually dressed in a loose yellow dress and sandals.

There was a local policeman at the door. “Is Mr Whitehead in, please? I am required to deliver this to him and it needs signing for.”

“I'm afraid he's out at present, but I can sign for it if you like. Is it something important?”

“Well, between you and me, he's in a spot of bother. Seems he didn't reveal who was really driving when he got done for speeding. These new hightech cameras pick up a lot of detail and I'm told that the picture of a girl at the wheel of an open sports car is very clear. And seeking to pervert the course of justice is a serious crime.”

The girl quickly scribbled an illegible signature and the copper went away apparently satisfied.

Bob let loose a string of most unladylike expletives, realising immediately that he was between a rock and a hard place. If he pleaded guilty, he would still be told to disclose who was driving and if he refused, he might finish up in prison. If he pleaded not guilty, his defence would involve making his cross dressing public. He couldn't win and spent a sleepless night trying to decide what to do. His decision was simple. He would attend court “dressed” and plead not guilty. He was sure the local press would have a field day but the fuss would soon subside.

And so, when the case came to court, he stood in the dock immaculately dressed in a beige skirt suit with a white blouse and red chiffon scarf. He wore brown shoes with three inch heels and matching accessories. With his long blond wig and make up he looked very bit the woman he wanted to be. The magistrate seemed puzzled to see a woman in the dock.

“Name, please?”

“Robert Whitehead” he answered in his usual bass voice.

The magistrate held a brief conversation with his clerk. He asked again “Please repeat your name.”

“ROBERT WHITEHEAD, YOUR HONOUR!”

The magistrate consulted his papers.

“Case dismissed!”

Bob was aware of a flurry of activity in the press gallery and when he reached the door of the court house, he was met by a battery of press photographers. He smiled and waved to them before walking confidently to his car and driving home.

Once safely through his front door, he kicked off his heels and poured himself a stiff drink. The ordeal had left him emotionally drained. However, now he been outed and everyone knew about it, he realised that he could dress whenever and wherever he liked. If he did so with confidence, local people would soon get used to it.

The local press headlines screamed “Speeding cross dresser in court!”, “Local drag queen escapes prosecution!” and several others. But as he expected, it was a nine day wonder.

…...........................................................

Six months later, Miranda was often seen around the town, always elegantly dressed. Business was booming. He bought a small hotel which now catered exclusively for transgendered and cross dressing visitors. Miranda's transmetics were selling well and he employed two assistants. Even the turnover in his shops was well up.

He had, however, felt it necessary to resign from the golf club. He didn't think it would be fair to drive off from the lady's tee!

Fiction by Johnny Cumlately.

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May 2015.