Phyllis: Part Twenty

This is the twentieth part of a fiction serial, in 793 words.

A year later, and Terence had a thriving business. He was turning down bookings, and had a core of over thirty regular customers who came back week after week. One of them, who liked to be known as Diane, even paid just to sit around and help out. He did the cleaning, made the others welcome, and spent most of the week hanging out in New You. His bill for that was astonomical, and when Terence asked him where he got so much money from, he was amazed at the answer.

“I sold my house, Miss Phyllis. I live five miles away in a caravan now, and I have never been happier. This place is my dream world”.

Alan kept up his bookings too, but Terence had soon discovered that Sundays were a waste of time. Rare bookings, and presumably because so many married men had to do family stuff at weekends. So he closed on Sundays, then saved even more money by giving up the rented bungalow and moving into a large room above the business. It wasn’t licenced for use as accommodation, but his regular donations to Norman on the local Council ensured that he would get no interference.

As predicted, he had to get an accountant. As far as Simon Drew was concerned it was a dressmaking business, and the takings were doctored with fake invoices to made up names for wedding dresses and fancy frocks that Terence created on his new computer and printer. That was a business expense too.

Keeping his head down in the small town was not that easy, but he managed it by being stand-offish and evasive. It didn’t matter that some of the other traders thought he was rude and arrogant, as he never had any intention of befriending them, or becoming part of that community.

The tax man was happy with Simon’s accounts, and he was completely legal. He reckoned that another five years would see him squirrel enough money away to retire quite comfortably, but he intended to keep running the business on reduced hours after that. It was easy money, and he had a long list of men waiting for appointments as soon as any became available.

For a while, he considered expanding. Perhaps opening a second branch of New You in Leeds or Hull. But why make stress for himself by running two businesses when just one made so much money?

New You had undergone a few changes too. It was much smarter inside, and the walls were decorated with professional photographs of his best-looking transvestite clients. The hire side had expanded, and he had invested in accessories like leotards, ballet outfits, school uniforms, wedding dresses, and other female costumes that some customers had spoken about to Diane. There was no limit to the fantasies whirring around in the minds of those men, that was for sure.

Only Alan stuck to his original desire to look like a forty-something housewife. He had upped his game though, and could occasionally look more like your best mate’s mum that you might have had the odd dream about when you were at Secondary School. His confidence had grown as a result, and he considered hiself to be one of the mainstays of New You. The downside was that he also seemed to be physically attracted to Miss Phyllis. He was a bit ‘touchy-feely’ on occasion, and had once suggested stopping the night, even though he knew there was only one bedroom upstairs.

Terence had managed to let him down gently, by saying he didn’t want to complicate their friendship. To sweeten that bitter pill, he allowed Alan an occasional snogging session when nobody else was around, always amazed that the man seemed to not have a clue that he was also a man.

He had to conclude that things had never been better, and he kicked himself for not coming up with the idea ten years earlier. Thoughts of a franchise were on his mind too. He could roll out the New You model all around the country. Edinburgh, Cardiff, Bristol, Southampton, Brighton. The possibilities were endless. It was an expanding market, no doubt about that. Although open transexuals were the flavour of the month, that made things worse for the closeted crossdressers. They needed somewhere discreet. They were not about to advertise their lifestyle on the evening news, after all.

When the doorbell rang on a Monday when he was closed, he checked the camera. Two uniformed police officers, one male, one female. What could they possibly want? He went down and opened the door. The woman did the talking.

“Terence Halloran? Formerly of Victoria Road, Nottingham?” He nodded.

“Can you come with us please, sir? We have a warrant for your arrest”.

36 thoughts on “Phyllis: Part Twenty

  1. (1) Alan and Diane make me think of Ladd. even though they both act like lassies.
    (2) It was high time Terence give up his bungalow and move into a room above his business downtown.
    (3) Simon Drew the wrong conclusions about the nature of Terence’s business.
    (4) I ain’t lion. I’d never wear a leotard.
    (5) Alan is so clueless, he makes Cher Horowitz look like an all-knowing sage.
    (6) Helios once suggested stopping the night. He wanted a full-time job.
    (7) Plod and Plonk: Just when Terence thought it was safe to open a branch, he finds himself up a tree.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pete, just wanted you to know that I tried 3 times to put a comment on your previous post and it wouldn’t let me. There were other comments there, so I suppose it was me for some reason.

    Liked by 1 person

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