Phyllis: Part Seventeen

~ beetleypete

This is the seventeenth part of a fiction serial, in 805 words.

Making sure he was up early the next morning, Terence was not surprised to find Alan still sleeping in his wig, and wearing a nightdress that would have suited an eighty year-old woman. After serving coffee and toast, he took Alan into the bedroom for a make-up masterclass.

Some men just didn’t get it, and Alan was one of those men. He thought that being made-up as a woman involved ridiculously large false eyelashes, eye shadow as thick as tar, and blusher on the cheeks resembling an allergic reaction. By the time Alan had removed unacceptable make-up three times, and finally learned what was acceptable, lunch was late.

Not that it was much of a lunch. Terence hadn’t bothered to get anything in, so it was cheese toasties with a side of wilted salad leaves, and some tomatoes long past their best. But Alan wasn’t complaining, and when he started to be instructed in how to buy the right type of underwear and a much better wig, he was visibly excited.

“This is just what I needed, Phyllis. I mean, when you are like me, there is not exactly an instruction manual, is there?”

At no time did Alan appear to suspect that Phyllis was actually a man. He certainly gave no indication of that, and hadn’t mentioned any suspicions. Terence was pleased that there was definitely no sexual motivation, not even a hint of it. He suspected that Alan was essentially a straight man who had perhaps tried on his mother’s clothes as an inquisitive child. Since then, the desire to repeat that process was overwhelming him. But probably because he was married, and well-respected in whatever job he did, he could not face the thought of the shame if he declared himself.

After lunch, Terence gradually wound down the session. He was complimentary, even though he was lying.

“Well, I’m sure you will agree that’s a one hundred percent improvement, Alan. You now look like a mature woman, and could probably pass unnoticed along a busy street. You have to get a better wig though, which will cost you. But as far as I can see, my work here is done”. By three that afternoon, Alan had reverted to his male persona, packed up all of his things, and was ready to leave. “Can I come again, once I have the new wig and better dresses?” Terence kept him on the hook. “Message me once that is all done, and we will arrange a time”.

He was wondering when Alan would hand over the cash, and didn’t want to ask for it. But the man reached inside his jacket pocket, and produced an envelope. “No need to count it it’s all there, in twenties”. Terence accepted a friendly kiss on the cheek, then bade his new friend farewell. An easy grand. He had worked three weeks in shows for less than that.

It had been a good week, as far as Terence was concerned. Easy money, and a move on the horizon. The following day he got most of what he wanted to take packed up in some boxes, and phoned to arrange to hire a van for the weekend. He could drop the van off in Lincolnshire, and the same day he would buy himself a nondescript small car somewhere local.

There was more to move than he had anticipated, but all those years in the limelight meant he had accumulated a lot of stuff that had memories. He wasn’t about to leave those behind, or his expensive clothes and wigs. After a busy morning packing the van, he only just managed to close the doors at the back. All that was left was to drop off the keys at the letting agent’s shop, and drive across country to his new life.

With less than a two-hour drive to Horncastle, he knew he would arrive at the agent’s place in time to collect the keys. They didn’t close until five, so there was plenty of time. He would leave most of the things in the van overnight, unload on the Sunday, and return the van to a depot in Lincoln on Monday. There were lots of car dealers around that city, and he was sure he would be able to drive away a car by Monday afternoon, once he had sorted out some insurance.

When he got into the bungalow that afternoon, he was pleasantly surprised. As he had rented it based on the Internet photos, he had wondered what it might be like when he got there. But it was very pleasant. Not that large, but three times the size of his horrible flat in Nottingham.

Getting changed into some smarter clothes, Terence decided to check out the centre of Horncastle. There had to a decent pub where he could get dinner.

33 thoughts on “Phyllis: Part Seventeen”

  6. This might be defined as honest cash. At least Terence has temporarily moved on from blackmail. Somehow I don’t think he’s found a conscience or some morals.

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  12. (1) “Phyllis” took Alan into the bedroom for a make-up masterclass. If you want my opinion, Alan shouldn’t have missed the class in the first place.
    (2) “First of all, Alan, forget about underwear that has a fly or a pouch. And when it comes to wigs, avoid anything resembling the hairstyle worn by the bride of Frankenstein.”
    (3) Even though Tarzan was essentially a straight guy, he always had a desire to dress up as Jane. But because he was respected by the animals in the jungle, he could not face the idea of shaming himself. Jane, on the other hand, had no problem throwing away her bra. (Cheeta was gender fluid. Could have gone either way, but preferred to stay naked.)
    (4) Dr. Frankenstein, after declaring that his monster was alive: “As far as I can see, my work here is done.” #ThinkAgain!
    (5) These days, virtually all small cars are nondescript. But at least that makes it easy to describe them.
    (6) It was less than a two-hour drive to Horncastle. It was even closer to Whistleshack, but Terence didn’t like the sound of that town’s name.
    (7) Do the pubs in Horncastle have a Ladies’ Night? “Phyllis” can save herself some money by only paying half price for her drinks.

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