Inspired by a local newspaper item about a gay (in the old original term) old lady still pursuing her previous occupation having an accident during a family party.
“Tony, be a darling and hold these for me,” Nancy asked her grandson. The eighteen year old grabbed the bunch of shopping bags from her and felt even more embarrassed to be stood in the ladies clothing department of Herrods flag ship store. Around him were stylish mature and yummy mummies selecting and buying the exclusive dresses, skirts, blouses, scarves, tops and every other garment, accessory range the new branch had recently reopened. He did notice that none of his preferred rough edge, street wise, slag girls were present, but if he’d looked at the prices it would have been clear.
He knew it would be not the place to roam with his hidden camera and wished it was. There was some stunners in the quiet, refined store.
The tall, elegant, formidable, spare framed old lady, clad in a chic, dark, two-piece, with a string of pearls around her neck disappeared through the sprung, self latching door into an outer lobby section of a dressing cubicle and then closed the curtains over the inner area, where the actual changing took place. It was a roomy carpeted space, with shelves, multi hooks, floor to ceiling mirror and an upholstered bench seat. She was impressed with the fittings, which were much improved from the early days of department stores, where a flimsy, ill fitted curtain had been the only barrier between a semi-naked female and a shop full of people. Nancy wasn’t worried anyway due to her previous profession.
Her youthful companion wistfully gazed around and could see the shop signs in the far distance leading the way to the technology, games and sports equipment departments where he had been indulged by Nancy’s generosity. Two of the bags he held were stuffed with his new gear, but by far the bigger bags held Nancy’s purchases. He had enjoyed this shopping expedition so far, choosing stuff, which his widowed, seventy three year old granny gladly funded, partly because of his birthday the previous week and also because he was her favourite, being the only male offspring of her daughter Helen. There were several other grand children, but the Hook family weren’t particularly close in relations and distance. Her two other daughters didn’t have much to do with her because of her previous profession. Helen had taken after her, more or lass, but down a different route.
“Excuse me sir, do you mind moving on?” came a deep, well spoken, male voice over the top of a display unit showing expensive fashion jewellery. A black man in smart navy blue security uniform walked round the unit and confronted Tony. “This is the changing area...” “I can see that perfectly clearly,” answered the lad interrupting him. “My grandm...” “Yes but some of the ladies don’t like men loiter ... were you going to say grandma. Can you explain?” the security official responded in a pleasant manner, finally noticing several bags round his feet and the two in his hands. “My grandma is in there trying some clothes on and I’m waiting, what the fu ... heck do you think I’m doing?” answered the already irritated youth. “Ah I see. My apologies. Maybe just move a little over there if you don’t mind then.”
Tony was ushered four feet away, the man carrying the floor parcels for him, apologising again and moving on. Young Hook happily accepted that the man was only doing his job, being well brought up, sensible although insular, becoming an IT expert, a hobby botanist, bird watcher, a science fiction aficionado and another hobby. Bill, his dad was a master butcher with entrepreneur ideas and had built up the hundred year old business into a meat empire, with farms, serving many superstores, restaurants and Helen – his mum an orthopaedic consultant surgeon. She was also a hobby costume designer specialising in exotic dancing gear for female dancing troupes, in flamenco, ballroom, burlesque and strippers. Nancy had been a seamstress, a prolific needleworker in her early days, nurturing the same interest in Helen and Nancy’s other daughter Deborah. Widowed from Percy her husband, a local magistrate some years back. She had been left comfortably off. The other close relative was Tony’s fourteen year old, pain in the arse, sister Barbara who was what was known as a sandwich short of a picnic and struggled all her school life, more like life in general and seemed to have no skills, even in housekeeping and cooking, no interests apart from her Tablet and Smart Phone, much to Helen’s disappointment. She attended a special school.
“Tony!” Nancy’s voice rang out, rather more loudly than the first time, which he hadn’t heard. He heard it this time as her handsome, attractively boned face beneath a slightly tousled greying, fair head of hair, anxiously peered outside the partly opened cubicle door, then spotting his new position, beckoned to him. He left the bags in a pile and strode to her, noticing her bare shoulders and that she’d removed her highly coloured designer spectacles. “You’ve moved darling, I called earlier.” “The security man must have thought I was peeping or something, silly bugger...” “Tony – don’t, he’s only doing his job,” she admonished him. “I need your help please, but you’ll have to come in.” “Gran – I can’t. It’s ladies, what if he sees?” “Oh come in, stop messing about, he’s gone anyway and the sales desk is round that corner, I need you,” Nancy stated, grasping his bare arm. Tony had a chance to glance around not seeing any evidence of concern until Nancy closed the door behind him. “But I’ve left all our shopping along there Gran. I mean...” He interrupted his concern, seeing Nancy’s bare back criss crossed with two deep red slender straps that was stretched over her spare wiry flesh. He gulped and tensed his cock when she turned to face him. “They’ll be fine, this will only take a second and it’s not the sort of place the hoi polloi will steal stuff,” she advised him. “Now unclip this for me, it’s stuck and only needs a bit of muscle which you got plenty of. Without my specs I’m half blind and if had them on they’d slip down and still I wouldn’t be able to see,” she chuckled, stroking his biceps. Tony wondered of the troublesome garment would slip down, but thought again – it was his gran, and an old lady.
Her other hand held the Triumph brassiere front clip between her medium sized tits. Telling him how the clip should work and him trying to, made the back of his hands nudge the lower section of the garment which housed her nicely proportioned breasts. With that and the sight of stout nipple bulges through the soft, un-wired material, made his cock tense and he felt awkward. That shouldn’t happen with his grandma, this dear old lady. The clip sprung free and Nancy swiftly grabbed the cups and held them to prevent him being embarrassed with exposed tit flesh. Her bosoms squashed upwards and Tony tensed again. He turned to leave and spotted the brassiere holder from the hanger and saw the 38B label. He saw it and thought he’d love to see her knockers and the dressing of them – but that’s silly, she was his gran and very old.
In the car park. “What’s Barbara doing today?” Nancy asked as they started loading her BMW 3 series. “Mummy is dropping her off at her friend Janet’s house as far as I know,” he replied, climbing into the beige leather interior. “Is she the friend Barbara met at her special needs classes? She’s doing well. It will work out fine for her,” comforted Nancy, booting up the 3 litre turbo diesel engine. “Yes it is, both are very strange, like weird things seem to interest them and that Janet is not exactly Mummies favourite. She’s so uncouth Mummy says ... what is it she says? ... wrong side of the tracks or something,” Tony chuckled, gazing at a couple of cheaply dressed young women with baby buggies and brightly coloured hair, thinking - ‘love those torn black leggings and the fat one’s tight mock leather mini skirt.’ He saw but ignored Nancy’s shapely, toned legs clad in sheer nylon which were visible from about six inches below the hem of her dar, ribbed skirt. It was his gran, think about how old she is - stupid.
Two weeks later, Tony was picked up by Nancy for the last shopping trip before college restarted after the summer break. He wore his usual summer gear of tee-shirt, shorts and trainers. Helen had told her mother he needed some sports gear and wanted to spend his own money, instead of Grandma buying every thing. Mrs Hook’s car was being serviced and having some extra work done and it was difficult for the lad to use the buses having to change twice to reach his destination. Bill was away at a seminar at Inverness and had parked his Jaguar at Heathrow. Nancy stepped in to help – as always. Barbara would do her pre-school shopping with Helen as she was difficult, didn’t know the right shops, the appropriate clothing, the pricing and bus schedules.
“Come back for a cup of tea Tony.” suggested Nancy as they completed shopping and got into her Merc. “There’s something I want you to help me with OK?” He agreed, he was at a loose end and always enjoyed doing jobs for the old matriarch of the family. Her loved her ultra modern detached house in a private road, all sharp angles, spacious open plan, white rendered, with extensive gardens, cared for by an American butch woman, Wel Cort. The place surprised most of her friends and family. Being the family IT expert, Tony had advised and set up her studio equipment and when checking and updating as he did for her, there was no sign of the kind of stuff he had found on his dad’s.
.... There is more of this story ...