Chapter 5 – Let’s dance

The following day I rose early, eager to face any new challenge that came my way. After some internal debate over what to wear, I decided on a silk miniskirt in a dusky pink that I’d bought recently. It might not offer durability, but I was sure it was right on trend and certainly ‘livelier’ than the one I’d worn the day before. The clincher was that I had both shoes and purse which would go with it very nicely. In the confidence stakes, looking chic would help to counter my inexperience, I reckoned. Now all I had to solve was the problem of what to wear with it!

Just the day before I’d purchased a new black bra which wanted an occasion to be worn and the possibility of being in company with my elegant client provided just such a one, to my way of thinking. After I’d showered and dried myself, I slipped into the matching panties and eased the bra straps over my shoulders. As I positioned my boobs into the lacy cups and fastened the hooks behind my back, I could almost see the irritating smirk on my mother’s face over the deft way I performed that operation. Her strict discipline had forestalled my ever using the clip-in-front-and-swivel-round approach. While sitting at my vanity and giving my make-up the attention it deserved, I had ample time to reflect on how her influence still dominated so much of my existence. The realisation was galling!

Galling it might be, but if I had been entirely honest, I would have had to own a certain frisson of pleasure accompanying my labours in front of the mirror. It was satisfying to remind myself that this was something I good at, and moreover, prettying myself up could be a whole lot of fun!

My next problem was transport. I reckoned my own car might be too noticeable if I were to use it to tail anyone so I left my apartment in plenty of time and hailed a cab. I asked the driver to stop a few blocks short of the Simpson ménage and told him to wait.

Unsurprisingly he seemed very pleased to comply. “Suit yourself. It isn’t often I get paid for doing nothing, lady. I could get used to this!”

We sat a good ten minutes during which time I had to deflect his natural curiosity repeatedly with a “Can’t say!”, in answer to his many questions.

Eventually la Simpson’s cherry red Buick made its appearance. I let it drive on a couple of blocks before instructing my chauffeur “Follow that car!” I’d always wanted to say that! We hadn’t gone more than two hundred yards before a dark blue sedan pulled out from a side turning in front of us. I told my driver to remain a vehicle or so behind this newcomer in the procession of traffic heading downtown. When we were stopped by a red light I leant forward and noted the licence number, congratulating myself that at least one of my objectives had been achieved.

We drove on until Gloria’s automobile pulled over, stopping outside the entrance to a large hotel. I directed the cabbie to pull over also. My client alighted and gave the keys to an attendant who proceeded to take her car around to the parking lot. Meanwhile the blue sedan had driven past and disappeared down a side street. Everything happened at once and I hesitated before giving the instruction to follow it. By the time I’d told my driver to go after the blue vehicle it was too late. It had vanished! Inwardly cursing my slow-wittedness, I paid off my driver, asking him to return just before the time the dance was expected to finish. Hopefully I could repeat the tailing exercise on the return journey with better success.

I walked back to the hotel and slipped inside. I went towards the dancehall to find my client and was confronted by the lady herself. Gloria Simpson, widow of this parish, was dressed for a dance and made quite an impact on the eye. She had spared no effort in readying herself for the event. Her hair and make-up were flawless and the petticoated skirts of her tea-length dress stood out in a style reminiscent of the fifties.

Glorias’s mind, however, was clearly focussed on the task she had set me. She accosted me directly with a “Well, did you see who it was?”

I had to reply in the negative, and my answer was met with a frown.

“But… we have gained confirmation that you are being followed, and… more to the point, I did get the licence plate.”

The woman’s disappointment was softened by the last part of my declaration. She smiled again and it was as if the sun had emerged from behind a forbidding cloud. “That’s good!” she exclaimed with, I was touched to perceive, an almost childlike expression of happiness.

“Also, I plan to continue the investigation when you drive back, Mrs Simpson. I will be able to see where the car heads after you reach home.”

“That’s also true… Jennifer” she beamed. “Well done. I think you should call me Gloria, now. I’m very happy that you are on the case and are getting such quick results.”

“I’d better find somewhere inconspicuous to wait until you are ready to leave.” I made to go, but my client stopped me.

“Oh, do you have to. Don’t you dance?”

“Oh, yes, when I get the chance, but now would not be a good time.”

At this she pouted. “I was hoping you might take me for a spin around the floor. I love this melody. Nobody will be here as early as this, so I won’t have a partner to dance with for ages yet. What do you say?”

My mother had been insistent that both my brother and I took dance lessons when we were small. I wondered if I could remember anything I’d learnt back then. Against my better judgement I allowed myself to be persuaded.

“I guess it won’t do any harm. Perhaps we may do just one dance. I suppose that if anybody notices us it will look like we are just two early birds waiting for our partners.”

My misgivings remained. My short skirt would probably not be deemed appropriate wear for the opulent surroundings, at least not for an afternoon tea dance, but no one seemed to be paying us any attention. My prospective partner removed her wrap and glided towards me. Her figure was shapely but very slim, much slenderer than my own swelling curves. When she came into hold, she felt as light as a bird on my arm.

I pressed her against me as I’d been taught in dance class and set off nervously. Through my flimsy miniskirt I could feel every movement of her body against me. lithe and sinewy. After a few steps I realised that this woman would always be a joy to dance with. Her responses to my hesitating leads anticipated what I’d intended, making us seem to move as one. The whole experience was quite wonderful, and I revelled in it. The many folds of her petticoats seemed to envelop me and every breath of air I took in seemed to be filled with her perfume. Before the music came to an end, I had become lost in the moment. I was smitten.

The experience was quite sensual and after our second dance it was with great reluctance that I broke away. Observing the pouty expression of disappointment on my dance partner’s face, I had to insist “This is really not a good idea.” One of us had to exercise some caution!

“I guess!” came Gloria’s sulky reply. It gave me a little thrill to know that the lady had enjoyed our dances as well as I.

I took leave and returned to the hotel lobby where I ordered myself a coffee to pass the time. No-one seemed to pay me any notice. It was over an hour later when some of the dancers started to emerge from the hall and disperse. I took the hint and went to avail myself of my cab, only just in time. Gloria left the hotel moments later. The attendant brought her car around and she drove off.

I asked my driver to wait a few moments as before, then directed him to follow. We nearly lost sight of the Buick before we got going but that was all to the good, I calculated. The length of the gap between the cars would make the connection between us less obvious. In this fashion, we drove all the way back to the mansion. However, it appeared that I was to be disappointed. No dark blue sedan came within view. Disconsolately I asked the driver to take me to the office, alighted there and paid him off. At least I had the number on the licence plate.

When Guy telephoned, I supplied him somewhat breathlessly with a full account of the day’s events. To my intense irritation there was a patronising tone to his voice as he responded. It was as if my actions were dismissed as those of a novice, which of course I was, though one who was keen to prove herself of value. The man clearly didn’t see any significance in what I had accomplished. However, at least he was able to advise me how to trace the licence plate. His parting shot didn’t make me feel any happier.

“Trust you to get entangled with a merry widow” he quipped. “She must be quite something in the looks department. Be seeing you!”

I tried to ignore the remark, but the jibe stung. There was one observation I’d made that I hadn’t mentioned to Guy but if I was correct, Gloria was indeed quite something. My belief was that she was in fact a ‘he’! Like myself, or so I reckoned, she was transgender!