Jos’s adventures in the Midlands

 

Jos, away from parental and sisterly influences, develops an unexpected talent and gives me a demonstration. So I’m introduced to Miss Enid

 

To return to Jos’s career, both at work and in his private world of rainwear.

 

Once he had completed his studies in London, Jos had got himself a job with a large contracting firm in the Midlands in order to acquire experience to help run the family firm in due course.

He found himself lodgings in Coventry, bought himself a car, for which he rented a garage, and for a time we saw little of him except at occasional weekends.

His polka-dot mack had disappeared from the summer-house. When I enquired about it on one of his week-ends at home, he explained that he had with him but couldn’t very well keep it in his room as he suspected his land-lady, who cooked and cleaned for him as well, would soon find it and perhaps wonder why he had it.

He kept it hanging in his rented garage and smuggled it back and forwards from time to time. I had by this time acquired my smart bottle-green mackintosh that I described earlier and I wore this or my blue Austrian mack, the blue one by habit, the green one if I wanted to appear smart. Consequently the red one, which we had bought for the fancy dress competition the previous summer, a nice dark red glazed cotton which was rubber-lined was little used by myself. So, at my suggestion - not Jos’s, I let him take it back to Coventry, to also hang in his garage - provided he reported to me what he got up to in it (I teased!).

As I correctly guessed, he did get up to things but not quite what I would have expected. The next time home, Jos described how, on occasional evenings or weekend afternoons, he would go down to the garage, which I gathered was fairly isolated in a block of similar garages behind a housing development. Whereas I assumed he probably shut himself inside the garage and just wore the mackintoshes for a bit, he claimed to be somewhat more venturesome.

Here, as with most of this section of my account, I am partly breaking my rule to only tell what I know to be true but, as you will see later on, I acquired good evidence that all he told me about his mackintosh adventures in the Midlands was true or very near the truth. With Jos, I could always tell anyway on the very rare occasions that he made things up.

So, Jos told me, down at the garage, after a lot of hesitant starts and differing arrangements, he would, out of sight inside at the back, take off all his clothes and put on a track suit bottom, socks and training shoes and then the (my!) red mackintosh. He had bought a patterned red headscarf, which he then tied over his head, knotting it under his chin. Then, having checked there was no-one in the immediate neighbourhood, he got into the car, drove it out of the garage, and then quickly got out and shut the garage door. He believed that at a distance and certainly whilst sitting in the car he would pass as a woman to any casual observers, the head scarf being more convincing than the sou’wester style hat that belonged with the mackintosh. Once back in the car, he would drop the tracksuit bottom down to his knees and drive off – carefully!

He carried a duffel coat in the passenger seat, his discarded clothes in the boot and convinced himself that if he really did get into an accident or some other awkward situation, he would be able to quickly put the duffel coat on over the mackintosh, hoist up the track-suit, whip off the head scarf as he got out and appear reasonably normal to deal with whatever. He even practised it.

So off he’d go. The sensation of driving around in just a rubber-lined mackintosh was, he said, most exciting, starting off cool and sensuous, his bottom sliding around inside the rubber lining as he went round corners, then warming up until eventually he’d almost forget that he was dressed in that manner - but not entirely! Sometimes he’d even find a quiet spot out in the country and go for a short walk, carefully avoiding any passers-by.

Needless to say, I told him that I didn’t believe him and, after some thought, I pretended that I wanted my mackintosh back. Alternatively, I added, he could keep it but only if he’d prove what he had told me was true by driving to somewhere between Coventry and our home one Sunday afternoon and meeting me there, dressed as he had described. Easy, he reckoned, and he did. So I arranged to borrow Father’s car and to meet him at a large well-known mansion outside Corby, that was open to the public for visits..

 

For once the weather was just about right. So often, of course, it is too cold or too hot for these sorts of jaunts and, if I were to look back and make a note of when mackintoshes were worn with nothing underneath, outdoors that is, I expect it would be only during either the Spring or Autumn months. Anyway, it was not too warm and there were not too many visitors to the place when I met him in the car-park, just as they opened mid-morning.

Once I’d got over the quite considerable shock of seeing this smart ‘lady’ emerging from his car, he showed me that he was, in fact, wearing nothing else underneath the mackintosh except his track-suit bottoms. I persuaded him to discard those altogether with the training shoes and put on instead my glossy black ‘fashion’ wellingtons (the ones that I had acquired for that same Fancy Dress dance and happened to have brought with me). He turned out to be fairly presentable, so much so that we were able to walk round the grounds, me sensibly dressed and in my prized bottle-green mackintosh, he in my wellingtons, which were too tight but succeeded in making him walk, as he said “in a poncey manner” and, as I can now able to evidence, in just my red mackintosh with the headscarf disguise.

“I can’t call you Jos, dressed like that. What do you want to be called?” I asked, as I steered Jos in his boots away from walking on the croquet lawns, heading instead for the shrubbery and in any case carefully avoided nearing other people walking round the gardens.

He’d obviously thought about this already as he replied in a flash, “Enid”

“Enid?” I asked, “Why Enid, for goodness sake?”

“You know,” he said, “One of the old dears down the road, Ruth and Enid? Enid’s got a red mackintosh as well. We’ve talked about it.” We had indeed, though what I hadn’t heard about was Jos’s escapade with Enid, not until that very afternoon.

Back in Father’s car, to the casual observer, were two ladies sitting and nattering away whilst eating the packed lunch that I had provided. Amongst other things he told me how he had once read in the Norwich paper of a person driving a Rolls Royce who was involved in an accident and taken unconscious to hospital where it was discovered that it was a man but completely dressed as a woman. That appealed to him no end, apparently, and he hoped that the unlucky 'lady' was wearing a mackintosh. Father’s car was a huge Humber Imperial, the biggest car in our town, we joked, and was like driving a tank. Perhaps he would like to drive that dressed as he was? Of course, he said.

I also got the full Enid story out of him. As I interrogated him then, and again later, I became convinced that what I will recount is true up to a certain point and I am fairly convinced so up to a further obvious place that you will see.

 

This is what I wrote at the time, many years ago now. But for our Journal, we are going to transfer his solitary unsubstantiated adventures to a different web-address. This is so I can maintain my promise here on this Website to only write things I know to be the strict truth. The address is www.jklm15.wix.com/episodes-110-to-117 but still subject to editing, needless to say

 

When he’d finished, it was mid afternoon and the place was beginning to get crowded. Soon it would be getting towards the time when I’d have to drive back home, then on to Norwich first thing tomorrow, so I didn’t want to be too late. However, after the account involving Miss Enid, which will get re-told on this other web-site, we were both in the mood to take advantage of one of our nowadays infrequent times together. Bear in mind that we were both nicely mackintoshed, of course, and Jos had been displaying that certain enlargement just below the tightly buckled belt of his mackintosh ever since I had first met him that morning. When I had laughingly commented on it, he said it was due to the delicious sensation of being free of any restrictive clothing in that area, together with the feeling of the caressing cool rubber lining on it. He couldn’t help it but he had indeed had what he called a ‘semi’ as a result ever since he had got into the car that morning. I knew what he meant, of course, even his ‘semi’ was quite something, like carrying a length of garden hose drooping outwards between your legs and adding of course to his difficulty of walking.

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As suggested then, Jos took the opportunity to drive the Humber off in the direction I would have to take to get home, I following closely behind in his car until he spotted a place to turn off. It was an opening into a wood where people turned in and parked before going off for walks or picnics but unfrequented now towards the end of the afternoon.

I pulled in close under some trees, so close that I had to slide across the front seat to the other door to get out. I hurried over to the Humber and slid into the back seat and Jos joined me there, amid much rustling of mackintosh and creaking of the leather upholstery. I was soon blindfolded, tied and hooded, kneeling on the floor in the enormous back seat area of Father’s car, dealing with that ‘semi’ with no-one around to observe. What would Father have said had he known?

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If you haven't already guessed, I ought to make clear to our 'readers' (if any?) that our sexual activities purposely avoided any chance whatsoever of me becoming pregnant. The outcome of such would be horrendous in both our careers and the production of a child who might look like both myself and Jos would have us drummed out of the county! We had then become skilled at masturbation and oral tecniques.

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