Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Rushed post

Good Gosh!

Must admit to being amazed by the wave of lethargy I set up when I asked for comments about getting to my library on Smashwords last week.  But at least I know that one tried - and was successful, so that was nice.

I heard back from Smashwords and it appears that I can't issue a discount with just one code set up for readers of this page - so I'll have to establish individual discount codes for every book - but right now, we have company and I can't spend too much time on the PC.

That is also my excuse for posting just a story - instead of a serial - just don't have much time.

If you read and read Aftermath?  It was wrong totally - the following is the correct story. Which reminds me - Magselectronics will close forever on the 15th of this month. But here goes:


I roamed about the house, lost.  Everybody had left and I was alone.  I’d been surprised by the number of women who’d attended Ellen’s memorial service.  Most of them had been from the neighborhood, but I’d had no idea that she was that well known.  Many of them had said a puzzling thing to me – more than one, handing me an item of food –  a casserole, a cake, or dessert - home cooked of course had said something like, “ Knew that bringing you some of my cooking was a waste of time – but couldn’t think of anything else to bring.”  Okay, I  did most – well, all, of the cooking for Ellen and myself - and had for some time.  But how did these women know?

There had been some men of course, but again hardly any one I knew.  It dawned on me then how isolated a life that Ellen and I had led.  Then, I realized that she must have had a far wider social life than I’d known about.   I thought I might ask Christine and Jo from next door, our landlords.  Lesbians presumably, but nice people – well Christine was nice and sweet, Jo was a lot more masculine, but seemed to like me, although I usually got the feeling around her that she knew I was intimidated by her.

There was something else as well.  Ellen had handled all of our money but I’d no real idea how she had been paying the rent!  In our check stub records there were a few checks made out to Jo on a monthly basis, but suddenly they had stopped about eight months before.   I almost started to weep – what was I going to do?  I missed Ellen’s strength so much – and how was I going to live?  I’d no skills, having been out of the job market for so long.  How does a guy explain a  gap in his resume of almost two years – would ‘house-husband’ do it?

Suddenly, I saw a car coming into the driveway. A tall, attractive blonde lady got out and came to the door.  I answered her knock.  She shocked me by pulling out a badge and flashing it.  “Hi.  I’m Detective Barbara Blaze of the Homicide division.  I’ve got some questions for you.  Do you mind?”  Then she added “You’re Mr. John Hall, right?” Then she looks curiously at me as I blush.

To hide my embarrassment, all I could do was open the door.  “Come in, please.  Yes, I’m John Hall – but Homicide?  I don’t understand!  I think you’ve made some mistake.”
She gave me a cold smile. “Yes sir, I probably have.  But would you mind me asking you a few questions?  It’s probably nothing, but something is bugging me about this case.”
“I guess that it would be okay.  Do I need a lawyer?”  I asked nervously.
“You’re perfectly entitled to one sir, but you’re not being accused of anything at this time,” she answered smoothly.
“Okay then, would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, black?  Would be lovely,” she said.  “Can I sit there?” she pointed to a chair at the dining room table.
“Certainly,” I answered.  “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

There was still coffee in the machine from before and I knew it was reasonably fresh.  I poured two cups and sugared mine.  Put them on saucers, then on a tray.  Almost put an apron on before I caught myself!  Took the coffee into the dining room and served it to the detective who put it on the table in front of her.  I did likewise and sat across from her.  I’d been thinking while I did all of this and started. “Ellen died by falling as she came out of the shower and hitting her head on the bathroom sink.  Could you explain why the sudden interest from Homicide?”

She gave me an apologetic smile.  “First of all?  My sympathy on your loss. But let me explain.  You see, I just transferred into town and into Homicide.  I don’t think they know what to do with me – there’s not too many women cops here – so while they’ve been screwing around, I’ve just been checking through some things and I ran over your case.  There’s one thing that I saw that bothered me.”
“What was that?”  I asked.
“Would you mind if I turned on my tape recorder?” she asked.
I shrugged.  “No problem..”

She pulled a recorder out of her purse and turned it on.  Identified herself and me, the date, and time.  Stated that I was NOT under oath and that what I said could NOT be used against me.  This made me feel a little better, but I was still puzzled.  Then she started.  “Would you please describe what happened that night?”
“Nothing much to tell.  I was working in the kitchen and heard a terrible crash.  Ran through and found Ellen lying dead.  I immediately called 911 and the paramedics were here instantly.”

She flipped through a notebook.  “In reading your original statement, you said you knew she was dead immediately.  How’d you know that?”
“The angle of her head.  Nobody could have their head like that, and live.”
“Mmmm.  And you didn’t try to revive her?”
“No. I’ve heard that moving someone who’s been badly hurt can be dangerous.  I was certain she’d been killed by the fall, but didn’t want to take any chances by moving her.”
“You knew that time was of the essence?”
“Yes – though, as I said, I was pretty sure that she was dead.”
“Mmmm.  So you called 911 immediately?”
“Yes.  I said that, didn’t I?”
She smiled, and I got even more nervous.  Tapped a well manicured fingernail on the table. “There’s a problem here,” she said.
“Would you mind telling me what it is?” I asked.

“Well?  I guess I can tell you, sir.  You see when your wife fell, she fell backwards, her head hit the edge of the sink and her left arm must have flailed and hit her watch that she’d left there while she took her shower.”
“Oh yes.  I remember that.  It was a watch I’d bought for her – all smashed. Wasn’t fixable I don’t think.”
“Well? Just by accident, I saw a photograph of it- and went and checked in the evidence bag.  The watch was there – and I got a very good look at it.”  She paused.
“And?” I asked.

She looked through her notebook again.  Smiled at me, a feral glint in her eye now.   “I checked with the 911 desk.  As you probably know, the time and date of every incoming call is noted.”
I swallowed.  “Yes, I think I heard that somewhere.”
Her eyes were cold.  “Your call was logged in at 10.47 p.m.”
I had a sinking feeling in my tummy and my mouth was dry, so I didn’t say anything.  She closed her notebook quietly.  “You were absolutely right sir.  The watch was smashed beyond repair.   But perhaps you can tell me why your wife’s watch stopped at 10.13 p.m. and explain why it took you so long to call in?”

I gazed at her in horror. 
She leaned across the table at me. “Were you cleaning up after you killed her?  Did you have an accomplice?  Another woman?  Your girlfriend?”
“I never killed Ellen!  A girlfriend?  Where are you getting all this stuff?” I whimpered.

Just then, the phone rang in the hallway. Grateful for the respite I went and answered it.  It was Jo from next door.  “John?  Put detective Blaze on the phone, would you?”
“Okay,” I said without thinking and carried the phone into the dining room. “It’s for you,” I told her.
“The precinct?” she asked taking it.
“No – it’s my next door neighbor,” I said
“She asked for ME?” she said, then shook her head. “Yes?”

She listened for a moment. Then her eyes opened in surprise.  “You’ve got a what?  How in hell’s name did you know what me and Mr. Hall were talking about?”  Then she paused.  “Bet your ass I want to hear this!”  She looked directly at me.  “This lady says that she can explain everything, but wants us both to go next door.  You got the time?”
I shrugged helplessly.  Shrugged.
“Let’s GO then!” she said.

On her way to the house she said.  “When you were in the kitchen, you must have called your neighbors and told them I was here.  But why?”
“I didn’t call anybody!”  I protested.
She grabbed my arm and stopped walking. “Listen sweetie.  Don’t lie to me!  Gets me all pissed off!”
“But I’m NOT lying!” I protested. Then added.  “Please?  You’re hurting my arm!”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a less angry tone, releasing my arm.  “I suppose we’ll find what this is all about in a few minutes.”

Christine opened her front door as we got there and took us into the house in her nice, feminine way, then after identifying herself, introduced Jo.
“Can I ask who spoke to Mr. Hall on the phone a few minutes ago?” the detective asked.
“Me.” Jo said.
“According to him, you asked for me by name?  How could you possibly known that?”

Jo shrugged. “It’s a fairly long story, but if you’ll let me, I’ll explain.  Why don’t you come and sit down.  Have a coffee.  I interrupted you having yours.  You take it black, I believe detective?”

The detective nodded. “This is unofficial, so why don’t you all just refer to me as Barbara, okay?   Yes, black is fine Jo.” Then her expression changed.  “How did you know how I take my coffee?”
“Please Barbara?  Have a comfortable chair,”  Christine offered.  “I’ll get the coffee for all of us.  I’ll only be a minute.”

While she was gone, Barbara set up her tape recorder again, once more stating that nothing that was said could be used in evidence against any one of the three of us.  As she did, I saw Jo relax and wondered what on earth was going on.  She was the first to speak. “Barbara?  I think that we can prove conclusively that John did not kill his wife, as you so obviously suspect.  I’d just like to ask you.  If we do convince you of his innocence, will you promise to erase that tape?”

Barbara shrugged.  “You’ll have to convince me all right.  But if you do?  I’ll erase it.”
“Thank you very much Barbara,” Christine said coming back with the coffee.  Then she smiled at Jo.  “See!  I told you that Barbara looked like a nice lady!”  I saw Barbara’s ears perk up and knew she was wondering, like me, when Christine could possibly have said this. But she said nothing.

Once we settled down, Jo looked at me.  “John?  I know that what I’ll be saying will embarrass you, but Christine and me?  We’re fond of you.  So if I do embarrass you now, it’ll be better than a lot of shame for you later – and maybe a trial?”
“Sounds fair, I guess,” I said.
“Okay.  Lets get started then,” she said looking at Barbara, who nodded.

“Christine and me? We owned that house next door for a long time.  Rented it out to all sorts of people.  Some nice.  Some not so nice.”  She looked at Christine who gave her a smile of encouragement, then went on.  “About three years ago, we did something stupid.”  She sighed.  “Put a surveillance camera in there.  You see?  It’s obvious that Chrissy here and me are lesbians.  Well, another couple of girls moved in next door – and well?  We wanted to watch them.”
“That’s illegal!” Barbara snapped.  “Not that it means anything, but how many cameras did you install?”
“Just one – and one mike.”

Jo actually blushed. “The bedroom.  Come ON.  Where would you think we’d put it?  The goddamn kitchen so’s Chrissy could steal their cooking secrets?”
It was Barbara’s turn to blush.  “Okay.  But I wasn’t anywhere near the bedroom.  So how could you . .”
Jo smiled.  “Barbara? I’ll get to it.  Okay?  I promise.”  At Barbara’s nod, she continued.
“Well, the girls only stayed for about a year and, I feel bad about admitting it, but we used to watch them quite a lot – was quite a lot of fun.  We weren’t that interested after they’d left and John and Ellen moved in.  Watched them a few times, but they weren’t having a whole lot of sex – and the hetero stuff’s kinda boring?  So we basically stopped watching.  Kept telling each other we’d remove the camera and mike, but never really got around to it.”

“Then, one night after dinner, here’s Ellen with the rent money,”  Christine breaks in.  “All laughing and joking around – then she asks us if we’ve been enjoying the shows that she and you, John, have been putting on.  Said she’d found the camera and mike.  Tracked them back to here.”
“We didn’t know what she was talking about at first,” Jo laughed.  “Then we felt very embarrassed.  She just laughed and told us not to bother – she found it a real turn on to find out that people were watching her having sex.  I think she was kinda disappointed when we said that we hadn’t watched you for a while, but after she left, we decided to look in on you guys again.  Here, you may remember this John.”

She fiddled with a sort of large remote thing and the TV set lit up.  Next thing, there was some static showing, then in living color, there’s Ellen and I in our bedroom, both in our pajamas!  Ellen’s smiling at me. “Feel like a little wrestling match tonight John?”
“Nah.  Not in the mood,” I answer.
“But I am!” she said.  Then she comes over and pushes me.
“Hey!  Knock it off!” I say loudly.
“Little Johny Wohny scared that big mean Ellen’s gonna beat him?” she teases.
“Bullshit!” I respond.  “Just not in the mood!”

But now she’s pressing in on me and I make the mistake of pushing her. Seconds later, giggling and laughing, she’s grappling with me.  It’s obvious in the film we’re watching that I’m struggling like mad, but she demonstrates her power by laughing and forcing me onto my back, opening up my robe, pulling down my pajama pants.  “Say Auntie!” she teases.
“You mean ‘Uncle’” I say, starting to giggle a little.
“No.  That’s what strong men say when they get beat. When a little weakling gets beat by a girl?  He says Auntie!”
“Not gonna!” I retort.
“No?  Well then!”

With ease, she flips me over onto my face than gives my bare backside two sharp slaps. I let out a yelp and struggle again, but it’s hopeless.  “Want some more?” She asks softly.
“Oh – Auntie!” I concede.
“That’s it!” She giggles.  “Let’s wrestle again, huh?”  With that, she flips me over and mounts my straining erection.

Jo hit a button and the screen went blank. I could barely look at anybody beside me.  The shame I felt knowing that these two women had watched Ellen make love to me.  Then, the thought.  My GOD!  Had they seen everything?  My concern must have shown, because Christine nicely took my hands in hers.  Then proceeded to make things worse!
“Ellen really loved you dear.  She just loved to tease you . .And loved to show off even more!  It was her that suggested we show these little episodes on the Internet – helped set up our Site and everything!”
“The .. The . . The  . . INTERNET?” I gasped.
“But I don’t get this!”  Barbara interrupted.  “What does all this have to do with the night his wife died?”

“We’re just getting to it,” Jo said.  “Thought you’d appreciate it more if we put everything for you in sequence . .”
“I guess I do.  Excuse my impatience,”  Barbara said after thinking for a moment or two.
“Hey you guys!” I yelped.  “This is embarrassing for me!”
Barbara turned towards me.  “Mr.  Hall?  Don’t forget something.  These ladies are trying to stop me from dragging your ass down to the precinct and booking you.  You might want to take that into consideration?  Let them play this out before you complain?”  She turned back to Jo. “You were saying something about the Internet?”

Jo nodded.  “Yeah, Ellen was SO turned on – she’d come over here sometimes and watch replays of how she carried on with him.  Then she set up cameras all through the house – and mikes too.  She was really proud of the whole set up – then the idea of making money from it, REALLY appealed to her.”
“Money?” Barbara asked.
“LOTS of it!” Christine spoke up.  “We couldn’t believe how many people wanted to sign up.  She took half, and we took half – and after a while were raking it in so much that we told her to stop paying us rent – we were getting seriously well off!”
“Just from watching her and John here having sex?  I don’t get it?”  Barbara said.

“Well?  It was more than just sex.  There was something else.  On top of that . . well, watch this.” Jo answered, turning that remote thing on again.  The scene is set in the kitchen.  Ellen is cooking something, looking very fetching in a frilly white apron.  I come in looking cross.  “What’s the matter my little honeybun!” Ellen coos.  “You look awfully sad! Come and give your mummy a nice big KISS!” She throws her arms wide open.
“I don’t know how to say this darling.” I said.  “But I got laid off today!”

A wide smile splits her face.  “But darling, why so glum?”
I shrugged.  “I felt the shit was coming down, and I’ve been looking around.  There’s no work for me out there.  Absolutely none!  Nada!”
“But darling?  There’s work for you, right here!  Lots of it!  This is wonderful! I’ve been getting fed up with all of this goddamn housework.  Now you can take care of the house – and look after ME!”
“But we need the money dear!” I protest.

She starts to untie her apron at the back and looking at me from the sides of her eyes. “No we don’t sweetykins.  I make enough for both of us. Now come here!” She starts pulling her apron of over her head.
“What for?” I ask nervously.
“You know what for!  Now come and get your apron on, sweetie!”
“Aw, come on!” I say, but I’m going towards her.  My blush is obvious as she slips it over my head, pulls of my tie and unbuttons my shirt and rearranges my collar to sit nicely on the apron bib.  After that, she gives my ass two authoritative pats and has me turn around. Takes care in arranging the strings at the back to lie correctly then ties them into a gorgeous bow.  Pats me on the ass again.

I realize now that she knew then exactly where the camera was as she turns me to face directly into it.  “TARARA!” she announces grandly. “Introducing Ellen!  And her cute little housewife – JOAN!” And, standing there, in my frilly feminine apron, I giggle.  Honest to God!  Like a school girl!  “My name’s John!” I remonstrate, but smiling weakly.  “J   O   H   N!”
She pats my ass again. “Anyone say anything different?  But Joan?  Get a move on and make dinner, okay?  I’m starving!”  And all fluttery and blushing, I take the spatula from her hand.
Jo blacks out the screen again.  “See what I mean?” she asks Barbara.

Barbara nods her head,  “Mmm.  Some sort of Femdom thing?”
“What’s that?  Femdom I mean?”  I asked innocently.
The three women look at me, shake their heads and smile.  Jo continues.  “Ellen set it up with the customers – they could access the house anytime – or  see a summary made every day of transition.”
“She actually made him into a housewife?”  Barbara asked disbelievingly.
“You want to see?” Jo asked.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll need to.”  Barbara said.

There’s a few shots of me doing my housework – always in frilly aprons.  Dusting and vacuuming, cooking, doing the laundry and ironing Ellen’s delicates carefully.  Then, one day I’m seen answering the telephone –  one of the companies I’d contacted is interested in me for a job – but they’re in a hurry and I agree to an interview immediately. When Ellen come home that night, I’m delighted, practically dancing around in a pretty apron – and with her favorite meal on the table. (By this time, with Ellen refusing to let me get a haircut, my hair is getting quite long and is starting to look quite feminine).

When she comes in, I rush into her arms as usual and kiss her enthusiastically.
“You’re very happy tonight Joan,” she says after we separate.
“Oooh Yes!  I got a job!” I squeal happily.
“Mmm.  When did this happen?” she asks coolly.
“This afternoon,” I reply, suddenly becoming obviously defensive. “They called me for the interview.”
“You didn’t call to ask for my permission?” she said.
I look abashed and suddenly worried.  “They were in an awful rush, Ellen.  Honest.  I’d have called you – but they only gave me a very short time so I just flew out of here!  I hope you don’t mind.  You don’t do you?”
“Mmmm.” She says thoughtfully.  “I hope you tidied yourself up for the interview?”
I see the trap and avoid it. “Just a tiny little bit! Combed my hair is all.  Didn’t have time to do anything else!”
She smiles.  “I hope they didn’t get the wrong impression of you Joan.  You know I like you to look nice for other people.  When do you start?”

I look even more worried.  “Tomorrow morning – if it’s all right with you?”
“Doesn’t leave us much time, but I’m sure we’ll be able to manage.  My!  Dinner looks lovely!”
Simpering and even more fluttery, I thank her and start serving dinner up. To my stated surprise, she even helps me tidy the dishes away and get them into the dishwasher.
“Well?  As I mentioned, we don’t have much time!” she answers.

A little while later, I’m sitting horror stricken as she gives me a home perm! She’s smiling happily and humming away to herself as she finishes putting the rollers in and squeezing that vile smelling stuff on the sausage like sets she’s created.  And then I’m under the dryer and crying a little as she applies bright red polish to my fingernails.  “Don’t worry!” she consoles me, obviously misinterpreting my tears, “I know I’m not the best in the world at this sort of thing, but trust me – you’ll look lovely tomorrow!”

The screen darkens for a second and then there I am, the following morning in a frilled pink apron, serving Ellen her breakfast, my scarlet nails contrasting with the white dishes as I serve. My hair brushed out now, I look like a girl.
“Wouldn’t you better get a move on?”  Ellen asks.  “You’ll be late for work if you don’t hurry.”
“Not going!” I say sulkily.
“After all that trouble I went to last night to make you look nice? And that little touch of perfume I put on you this morning?  Just right!”
“Oh Ellen!  You know I can’t go to a new job, looking like a girl!”
She acts phonily indignant.  “You think you look like a girl!  That what you think?  No makeup on?  No dress or skirt?  No high heels? You don’t look anything like a girl to me!”  Then she pauses and gives me a significant look.  “Still?  If that’s what you’d like, I could always oblige?” 
“No – No Ellen.  That’s all right,” I say submissively.
“GOOD!” she smiles then adds.  “I hid it as well as I could – but I didn’t really want you going out to work. Much rather have you stay at home and look after me – and that’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
I nod, my face down meekly, my hands crossed over in front of my apron skirt..
“That’s my Joanie!  Now come and give Al a kiss!”
And I do as I’m told, noticing that now as well as my name having a feminine connotation, hers seems to have become masculine..
The screen darkens again, and I’m surprised to discover that Barbara is sitting close beside me now.  Her arm is around my shoulder and somehow, my head is resting on her shoulder.  “You okay?” she asks tenderly.
“Not really,” I whisper.

“But what’s the matter, Joan?” Christine asks.
“I thought Ellen loved me!” I say, almost crying.
“What’re you talking about?”  Jo asked, almost belligerent.
“Doing all that stuff to me!  It’s embarrassing!” I sniffled.
“Oh Come ON!  She loved to tease you – and are you gonna sit there and say you didn’t enjoy being teased?  Here Barbara?  Tell us what you think!”

She shows a short snippet of Ellen laughingly accusing me of being naughty – and threatening to give me a spanking.  Obviously acting, I pretend to be all frightened – but am giggling and flirting with her – practically daring her to do it.  Then she produces a pair of pink satin panties.  “If you’re gonna be a naughty little girl?  I’m gonna treat you like one – and as naughty girls get spanked on their panties?  You’d better get into these, huh?”

Not acting then, I start to protest, but she decides that I‘ll wear what she says and advances on me.   I end up squealing and squirming, wailing and wriggling but at the wind up, she’s spanking me (but softly) on my pink panties and I’m actually smiling into the camera even as I’m kicking my feet girlishly. She wipes the smile off my face by making me wear a tight skirt afterwards, but it’s obvious that I’m used to it a few hours later.

“But Jo?  She was forcing me!” I complain. “Just another way to make me look bad!”
“You didn’t look bad to me, sweetie!”  Barbara whispers in my ear, and I blush. She gives me a squeeze, and I settle in against her some more.

Jo is speeding through various episodes now, but even in fast motion, it’s obvious that my outfits are becoming more and more feminine.  More and more, I’m in lingerie or sexy nightwear and, it starts to show that even without a bra, I now have very realistic breast forms adhered to my body.  The close ups on my face show distinct changes in my eyebrow structure – and increased use of cosmetics.  Then, I hear Jo say “Aha!  Thought it was here!” – and the film slows down.

I’m now posing, proudly, for the camera. – in a full maid’s uniform.  But it’s not black – it’s pink satin instead – with fur trim on both the dress, and the maid’s cap I’m wearing.  The straight skirt shows my smooth, rounded, knees, encased in dark nylons all the way down to high heeled pumps (pink satin to match, of course).  The d├ęcolletage shows a pair of creamy, luscious breasts thrusting up and out.  I have on one of those inconsequential lace aprons that they are so partial to in play farces. As I twirl happily, the door bell rings.  “That’ll be our guests.  Off you go Joan!” Ellen says from off screen. “And make sure you behave properly!”
I smile and curtsey to her.  “Yes mistress!” I simper, then head for the door, my satin covered ass swishing just enough to be seductive.

“You really look as if you’re being forced there, do you not?” Jo asks as the film shows me leading two Japanese ladies back to meet Ellen. “Do you know who these ladies were?”
“Ellen said they were two of her bosses.” I said.
“Bullshit!   They were two high bidders from the Internet, who were paying megabucks just to be seen with you on the site!”
“They paid just to visit?” I said, astounded.
“Yes – but they actually offered more than double to make you their little geisha for the night!”
“Well, one of them spanked me later on, and the other masturbated me, but that was all. They left about eleven o’clock” I admitted blushing, squirming delightedly as Barbara’s free hand rested on my thigh.
“I know.  But they wanted an awful lot more.”
“And Ellen turned them down?  That’s what you’re saying?” I asked cynically.
“Yeah,  she did. They wanted to make you their girl – put their dildos up your ass!  Ellen wouldn’t do it to you herself – and wouldn’t let anybody else do it either!  And you say she didn’t love you?”

“I wouldn’t let anyone do that to me!” I said sincerely.
“Joan?” Christine interjected. “You’re just being silly, aren’t you?  You weren’t that much of a sissy until Ellen started working on you – but are you going to say now that you dressed up willingly?  That’s not what you were saying a little while ago. Be fair!”
“Well?” I started, but Jo had another film running. 
“You going to say that you were forced into this?” she asked.

The screen is showing me in a white wedding gown and veil. Standing beside Ellen while a woman minister marries us, two pretty bridesmaids standing behind us as I demurely promise to love, honor, and obey – and then I am blushing as the minister introduces us as Ellen – and her wife, Joan!
“That why you blushed when I asked if you were Mr. Hall?” Barbara whispers teasingly in my ear.
I nod, and she giggles.  But the film is still running.  It is  later I’m still in my gown, lying on our bed on my back, Ellen straddling me, my bouffant skirts and petticoats almost obscuring my face as she humps me.  Jo speaks again as she dims the screen.  “Now Joan?  You willing to argue that if Ellen had wanted to turn you over and hump you from the other side, that you could have stopped her?”
“No.  I guess not.”  I admit.

“That’s good, because she left a key for a safety deposit box for you, just in case anything ever happened to her,”  Christine said. “I don’t know how much is in it, if anything, but I’d bet that you’ll be okay financially – for a while at least.”

I let out a tremulous sigh of relief. “Wow!  I was wondering what I’m going to do now. I don’t have any training for a real job.  Didn’t even know how I was going to pay next month’s rent to tell you the truth.”
Jo and Christine looked at each other.  “You didn’t know that Ellen bought the house almost a year ago?  Paid cash?” Jo said.
“Yeah!  I guess she felt guilty about taking advantage of you,”  Christine added. “She just loved to tease you more than anything else – but she’d never have harmed a hair on your head.”
“Thought of you as her wife,” Jo said.  “So don’t be handing out all this shit about her not loving you!”
I bristled a little.  “We weren’t really married.  Not legally, I don’t think.  She was just my girlfriend, that’s all”

“Hey!” Barbara butted in.  “I don’t give a shit about the legality of their relationship.  You guys invited me over here to prove something to me.  I think I can see that Joan here and Ellen had a loving relationship – but I’m still not convinced.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that now,” Jo said.  “Watch!”

The screen shows Ellen, nude, sliding the shower open.  She starts to lift one foot out over the tub enclosure and then seems to have forgotten something and twists her body to look back.  Says “Ah SHIT!” as her foot slips on the wet surface of the tub and she topples backward.  Her head hits the edge of the sink with a terrible crack, her flailing arm hits the watch just as Barbara had thought and she slips to the floor – looking dead before she even hits the ground.

I’m sitting at the dressing table in our bedroom in my nightgown and peignoir, my hair up in rollers, just about to cream off my makeup.  I hear the crack and look frightened.  “Al?  You okay?” I yell.  Then dart for the bathroom door.  In the bathroom, I let out a small scream and my hand goes to my mouth.  Then I start to cry and drop to my knees beside her and touch her carotid artery just to check.  Then I kiss her softly on the cheek, an obvious farewell.
“Aha!  That’s where that lipstick mark came from!” Barbara grunts. “That was something else I was wondering about!”

Now I’m picking up the phone – and then I look at myself in the mirror.  My makeup’s all smeared from crying and I look like a mess. Then it’s apparent that I see how I’m going to look.  I shrug and put the phone down.  Sit and cream my makeup off.  Cry some more as I take my hair out of the rollers, then take a pair of scissors and start cutting my hair back to a length that’s almost masculine.  It takes me a while to find the solvent to remove the breasts, but I do it.  Then I go to our other shower and when I come out, look reasonably masculine again.  Put on pants and a shirt (although I wear panties underneath)  socks and shoes.  Then I go to the phone and dial 911. I start to cry for help into the phone.  Jo turns the TV screen off.

“Okay.” Barbara says quietly.  “I’m convinced.”
“Oh thank you Barbara!” I say and give her a soft kiss on the cheek.
“You’re welcome Joan,” she says, kissing me back  “But I’ve been thinking as I watched all of this stuff. What are you going to do now? Gonna stay living in that house?”
“Oh, I guess so,” I admit shyly.
“But who’s going to look after you?” she asked softly. ”I know it’s awfully soon.  But I don’t like the idea of you being all by yourself in that big house.  I’ve been living in a motel until I could find somewhere to live.  Maybe you might want to think about letting me move in? I could take care of you?”
“That’s awfully kind of you,” I simper.
“We could strip out the cameras and stuff?” Jo suggested.

In answer, Barbara pulled me strongly towards her and forced her lips onto mine, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth.  She smiled as she looked down on me. “But there’s no need to for us to do anything drastic like that, is there honey?”
“Not if you don’t want to – Barb?”
“I think I prefer you to call me Bob,” she laughed.
“Okay, Bob,” I said, blushing.
“You still got that pretty wedding dress?” she asked.
“Oh yes!  But I can’t wear that again.”
“Why not?”
“Well, white is for virgins – and I’m not a virgin any more.”
She pats my ass possessively .  “You are to me, honey!” she says.

The end



alexvyaz said...

It's good little story. I have read it from you old site.
By the way maybe it will be interesting for you and other:

rocketdave said...

Not to trot out the tired and obvious observation that there seem to be a lot more women in fiction interested in feminization than there are in real life, but I thought it odd that this webcam business seemed to attract mostly women, if the turnout at the funeral is any indication. However, then I wondered if all of the women attendees were really women.

That aside, the only part that really bothers me at all is how quickly "Joan" seems to get over Ellen once the lady cop enters the picture, though it would be kind depressing to focus too heavily on the death, plus I guess he's pretty lucky to have someone else ready and willing to swoop in to take him in hand almost immediately following his loss. Lest I sound like I'm just nit-picking, I should add that I've always liked this story. I also remember reading it originally on your old site. Too bad not all the stories work on the archived version, though I have most of them saved already.

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