The arrival of the supposed ‘Downsizing Experts’ the following day proved to be rather an anti-climax. They talked the talk but didn’t really persuade Vivienne that the services that they offered were what she really needed.

Their estimates of the costs for their services based upon their inspection of her home and garden made Vivienne gasp with surprise.

“That is an awful lot. It seems rather excessive,” she said to one of the three companies.

Once Vivienne had gotten over feeling so foolish, a silly old woman and a dozen other even more derogatory things she suddenly felt a little lost. This sort of thing was all new to her. Back in London, her life had been framed by routine. Walk Betty, go to work, come home, walk Betty and go to bed. Rinse and repeat every day with a slight variation at the weekend.

Standing there with nature alive all around her made her realise that she was very much out of her comfort zone.

The sun was just poking its head above the horizon as Vivienne left home the next morning. She had high hopes for the weekend despite not having anywhere to stay for the next few days. The traffic was light at that early hour. It was just before 05:45 when she reached the start of the M3 close to Kempton Park Racecourse. The battery gauge on the dash told her that the battery in her car would get her to the charger at the Supermarket in Wincanton just as she’d planned. She hoped that she could get a late breakfast while the car was also fed but with electrons rather than her choice of Sausage, Bacon, Eggs and Hash Browns all washed down with a large cup of tea.

Vivienne had been nagged by the thought of some dark secret or secrets that Jacques was hiding refused to go away. His good looks and charming personality were tempered by this as yet unanswered question. She preferred to think that someone like him could not be all bad.
This was, of course, complete and utter bollocks naturally… but it sounded rather nice to her.

Rachel was watching the main road that leads into the ranch from her perch. She knew everyone has been placed in their position. She looks through her scope and spot three people walking up the driveway.

“Where the hell did you guys come from?” Rachel knew they weren’t there a few seconds ago.

“Bart, I have two men and one woman walking up the driveway.” She continues to watch them.

“Arabella, send a drone towards that area.” Bart was up on the hill and was looking down towards the main driveway.

The ‘pet funeral’ people came and collected Betty later that day. It was hard for Vivienne to say goodbye to her lovable pet. As they prepared her body for transportation Vivienne realised that they’d not spent one night apart since she’d first came into her life almost nine years before. It really would be strange without the ‘Madness of Queen Betty’ to keep her entertained.

The people that came for her could well have been undertakers. They were dressed in black and spoke reverently in hushed tones about Betty and what Vivienne wanted done with her. After some discussion, Vivienne agreed to be there for Betty's final journey in two days’ time. She expressed that wish as it only felt fitting that Betty deserved a proper send off as thanks for the part she had played in her life these past years.

“That’s the last of the washing on Betty. Want to go for a walk?”

Her lovable companion wagged her tail and looked up at her mistress with doleful eyes.

Vivienne smiled back at her companion.

“Ok then. Go find your lead.”

Betty took off like a rocket only to completely miss the lead that was hanging over the bannister at the bottom of the stairs and thumped into the front door. She bounced off, turned around and grabbed the lead on her way back to her.

James Fearon was a celebrated interviewer and political commentator. He was, unlike many of his peers, a suave, polished and polite man whose Friday evening videocast had an audience of tens of millions all over the globe. His style was unique, and though never confrontational nor combative it was brutal.

Professor Claire McBride was a startlingly beautiful woman. Her face was arresting because the combination of deep blue eyes that shone seemed to be at odds with her vibrantly natural copper red hair. She looked to be in her late thirties, but was fifty-one. She was married to a farrier and they’d been together since their late teens.

Forty-five minutes after they’d met at the services, Vivienne and Maxine said goodbye to each other. Even in that short time, they’d become friends.

“Are you sure that I won’t be a pain in the neck? I’m not exactly a country person.” asked Vivienne.

“Not at all. It will be nice to have some company for the week.”

“And you don’t mind about Betty?”

“Not at all. She seems to like me.”

[At the party that is being held at an Hotel in Muswell Hill]

“Come on Mum! Why don’t you want to say some words to all your friends? They have taken a lot of trouble to be here today.” said her eldest daughter Janice.
Her voice was rather strained as if she was pleading with her mother.

Vivienne grunted.

“Why won’t you do it? Jan and I spent a lot of time and money setting up this party in your honour,” said her other daughter Suzanne.

This is a fan fiction, using Elrod's Bikini Beach universe.

English is not my native language - please do not beat me too badly over its quality. :)

------------------------

"Water pump, mister." The mechanic pulled from under the RV. "When did it started leaking?"

"Yesterday. Today increased."

"Seeping water just to refill to the bare minimum, to minimize the loss?" A blackened with grease finger knocked on the five-gallon plastic tank, tied over the engine and connected with a piece of garden hose to the cooler.

"Yes. Kept me going to here"

Chapters 125 and 126 are different in that they contain a lot of material in note form. I plan to write that material in its full form at some time in the future, but it is not essential to the work. The reason I have done it this way is that I wish to post the last three chapters, 127, 128 and 129 which provide the explanations of why it all occurs. Ch 128 is essentially the same as Ch 2, but it was my original intention that the material should be in the Ch 128 position. I only included it as Ch 2 so as to provide some explanation at the beginning without giving too much away.
Regards,
Eolwaen

Lois laughed. “Did you ever read No Exit by Sartre?
It starts off like this -- a guy ends up in Hell,
and the first thing he asks for is a toothbrush.”

“Um, I don’t feel like I’ve landed in Hell,” I told her.
“I hope you don’t feel that way.”

Explanations -- A Short Political Gargoyle
By Ellie Dauber © 2020

Yes, this is another politically biased story. I just couldn’t resist the notion.

The President slammed the report down on his desk. “Too damn many pages,” he muttered. “I’ve told them, and I’ve told them no more than two pages… and large type.”

 

Doctor's Orders

"So what's the verdict, Doc?" I asked.

"Well, I don't want to get to technical here, Tom, but you're getting old."

Well better late than never I guess, 8 years since the last chapter was posted. While I don’t think my writing skills have improved any, I did get a recent request to continue this (the only one in 8 years). Why? Well I was told they enjoyed the story. Since I am stuck at home I figured why not. So warts and all, here it is. Please forgive the warts Oh and before I forget I created space for Erin

When the quarantine started, over ten weeks ago, I began dressing 100% of the time as my alter ego feminine self: ‘Donna’. I’m retired, single, in my mid 60’s, a quarantined crossdresser and I’m bored. It’s been more than two months of ‘sheltering in place’ seclusion and I’ve been having unsettling thoughts that I’ve never had before. Maybe that’s normal as you age. What is not normal is I’ve begun wondering what a physical relationship with a man would be like. Maybe it’s a ‘getting old’ phenomenon.

I’m retired, single, in my mid 60’s, quarantined and I’m bored. I’ve been cross-dressing since I was 5 and would use crayons and colored pencils to ‘paint’ my nails. Cherry Popsicles were my lipstick. Over the years the qualities of my cosmetics and panties have improved vastly.

When the quarantine began over two months ago I vowed to dress 100% of the time as my alter ego feminine self. On the first day of sheltering in place I shaved my legs, shaped and painted all my nails. Since I wasn’t going anywhere it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Since Devi didn’t come through the portal speaking Zyuni anymore, because the cabinet was in an apartment whose residents only spoke Stasari, Nidlaya had loaned her a language talisman, a gold necklace with a ruby pendant, which enabled her to speak and understand Zyuni.