MicheleNylons has written a huge number of stories, some
seem quite fine. Here is her 'catalog'.

https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=326288&page=submissions

and here is one, starts very slow

https://www.literotica.com/s/a-glimpse-of-nylon-stocking-ch-01

A GLIMPSE OF NYLON STOCKING CH. 01
STORY INFO
A glimpse of stocking on a train changes two lives forever.
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MicheleNylons
MicheleNylons
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Chapter One --Strangers on a Train

Prelude:

'In olden days, a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something
shocking but now, God knows, anything goes,"..... song by Cole Porter
circa 1934

Bakerloo Line, London, October 1963

Donald Cooper

A glimpse of nylon stocking changed Donald Cooper's life forever.

He was sitting in a six-car motor carriage on his way to work. He was a
lawyer at a mid-size law firm on The Strand near Charing Cross. As usual
the carriage was packed with commuters and Donald was sitting on a bench
seat reading The Daily Telegraph when a pretty office girl boarded the
carriage and Donald surrendered his seat with a nod of his head and a
smile, which the girl returned.

Donald was happy to stand in the crowded carriage holding onto the
overhead grab handle with one hand whilst holding his folded broadsheet
with the other with his briefcase between his feet. Like the rest of the
standing passengers he was facing the windows, holding up his folded
newspaper in front of his face whilst pretending to read it.

What he was really looking at were the legs of the pretty office girl
who was dressed in the livery of most office girls at the time,
consisting of a tailored wool suit over a silk a blouse, tan stockings
and stiletto heels. The girl had put her purse in her lap and modestly
crossed her ankles when she sat down and had taken out her Woman's
Weekly in which she became immediately engrossed.

The more she concentrated on her magazine, the less she considered her
modesty and after a while she fidgeted with her purse which allowed her
skirt to rise up and she unconsciously opened her legs just a little.
There was nothing pornographic on display but Donald could see the
shadow welt of her stockings which was more than enough to titillate him.

Being a hosiery aficionado, Donald knew that fully fashioned stockings
are knitted from sheer nylon yarn and to support the attachment of
suspenders, they have a darker section of double fabric at the top,
called the welt. This is followed by a lighter transitional section
called the shadow welt. Seeing the actual welt and a garter clip was
hoping for too much and Donald was more than happy with the leg show
that the pretty office girl was unintentionally portraying.

Donald's gaze meandered from the girl's plump thighs to her shapely
calves and finally came to rest on her ankles where her sheer tan nylons
formed tiny wrinkles. The overhead lighting in the carriage was quite
harsh and the sheen of the woman's stockings shimmered as the carriage
rocked and rolled its way along the tube.

The lights suddenly flickered on and off as they were want to do
whenever the train ran over a gap in the current-rail and Donald's gaze
was briefly interrupted. He was about to resume his contemplation of the
office girl's legs but he found himself a little disoriented and
distracted and found himself instead looking at the ankles of the man
sitting beside her.

Was he seeing things or were the man's ankles sheathed in nylon
stockings? He knew that men often wore sheer socks with their business
suits, especially in the summer, but it wasn't summer and the hosiery
appeared quite distinctively to be nylon stockings.

Although he could only see the man's ankles and the bottom of his calves
the hosiery looked exactly like expensive fully-fashioned stockings.

Then he saw that the man was wearing ankle socks that had fallen down
almost into the upper of the man's brogues. Donald was fascinated. Why
would a man wear stockings, especially on a crowded train? The man was
wearing navy-blue suit trousers and near the top of the man's thigh
Donald was sure that he could see the silhouette of a garter snap
delineated in the trouser material.

It was almost is if the man suddenly realised that he had been
unconsciously showing off his stockings and he quickly bent down and
pulled his patterned nylon dress socks up his calves and pulled down the
cuffs of his trousers. The man's face was crimson with embarrassment and
he wildly looked around the train to see if anyone had noticed and
Donald was able to avert his eyes just as the man's gaze fell on him.
Convinced that he had not been clocked the man settled back into his
seat and carried on reading his newspaper.

Donald was bamboozled and also fascinated. Why would a man in a suit be
wearing stockings underneath his trousers?

Donald couldn't let it go. He had to find out!

The train pulled into Charing Cross which was Donald's stop but Donald
didn't get off until two stations later at Oxford Circus where the man
in the navy blue suit stood up and picked up a rather large valise and
pressed through the crowd towards the door and Donald found himself
following the man across the gap and onto the platform.

The man joined the throng of commuters heading for the stairs and Donald
fell in directly behind and two steps below him. As the man ascended the
concrete stairs his dress socks once again fell down revealing the man's
ankles and lower calves and at eyelevel there was no doubt that the man
was wearing tan nylon stockings. The Cuban heel and backseam were
clearly visible.

Donald followed the man to a bookshop where the man unlocked the doors
and scurried inside. Donald watched through the shop window as the man
lifted the swinging flap in the counter and put his oversize valise and
newspaper under the counter and began to fiddle with the till. The man
faffed around a little: putting on the kettle, fiddling with an
arrangement of books on a display table and switched on the fluorescent
lights above the aisles of shelved books.

Donald took three steps back and looked up at the gilt sign above the
door. Clifford's Books and Sundries it read. Julian Clifford Proprietor
it said in smaller writing below the main sign.

The man who Donald presumed was Julian Clifford approached the door and
Donald pretended to be peering at the window display. The man switched
the sign hanging in the glass door from Closed to Open and Donald was
finally able to get a good look at him.

Donald pretended to read the hand-printed advertisements in the window
as a ruse to watch Julian. One read Passport Photographs Here -- One
Shilling Each, another read Xerox Copies -- Sixpence Each

The man he assumed to be Julian Clifford was small and slender, standing
five foot two inches tall. His hair was amber blonde and worn rather
thick and long for a man his age. He was neat and fastidious and seemed
to glide across the floor rather than walk. Donald watched the man make
himself a cup of tea behind the counter and was brought out of his
reverie when a customer entered the shop.

"Jesus!" Donald exclaimed as he shot his cuff and checked his watch.

He must get going otherwise he would be late for work.

Julie Clifford

"What the fuck was I thinking? Goodness gracious!" Julian Clifford wrung
his hands in embarrassment and frustration.

"I'm sure that man saw my stockings! What on earth was it that made me
do that?" Julian sipped tea and tried to settle his nerves.

Julian knew exactly what made him do that. Clifford's Books and Sundries
was barely surviving. It was as if all of Julian's beautiful books were
hanging precipitously near the edge of a cliff. They would be taken away
from him and sold for pennies on the pound when the inevitable happened
and Julian declared bankruptcy and his creditors picked over the bones
of his business.

The bookshop was barely breaking even and Julian had a mortgage on a
two-up-two-down in Lambeth and was struggling to keep up with mortgage
payments but now his long-time lodger, Peter Forest, had gone and got
himself engaged and was moving out. Julian had tried subletting Peter's
room but no one was interested. More lost income!

Julian had just about resigned himself to bankruptcy when hope came his
way through the most extraordinary chain of events.

Julian was, and for most of his life had been, a crossdresser, or a
transvestite, he didn't really care about the vernacular.

Sharing his house with a lodger did have its limitations and one of them
was that Julian could not present himself as Julie, his feminine
alter-ego, in his own home. Julie was actually the dominant personality
and consciousness inside the body she shared with Julian.