Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 138

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Cathy has Stella in stitches and also manages to soothe some ruffled feathers when Stella drops them in it!

Easy As Falling Off A Dyke.
by Ang-thingamy & vicious mog.
part 100+2+3dozen = lots.

When we had both calmed down and wiped our eyes with cold water, I followed Stella in to her room. She began sorting through a capacious wardrobe, she pulled out several dresses held them up against me and shook her head, they went back in the closet.

"Ah, this should do," she said handing me a green dress with a tiny floral pattern and beading here and there."

"That is beautiful," I said holding it up to look at it properly.

"Well get 'em off then, and try it on."

Giggling, I stripped down to my bra and pants, I was unzipping the dress when she stopped me. She bent down and looked at my crotch. "What have you done here?" she said pointing at my apparent cleft.

"Um, erm, nothing why?" I blushed like a lightbulb.

"Can I see?" she gave me loads of eye contact, "Purely professional, of course." She looked again and I nodded, then putting down the dress pulled down my knickers.

"That is amazing, how have you kept it up there, some sort of glue?"

"Superglue," I said.

She made a funny face and shook her head, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Only when I do it at first."

"Goodness, so you've pushed it all up inside you?"

"Sort of then wrap the skin around the erm, and it looks like that."

"Round your clitoris."

I blushed even deeper, and nodded.

"Thanks for letting me see, it is astonishingly real cosmetically. I'm not sure how good it is from the point of view of surgery, because the skin could all shrink, and when you get your referral, make sure it's been down for a few days for the surgeon to see. Can I take a photo for him to see?"

I felt quite nauseous but nodded.

"It really is only for the surgeon to see, when you go for the exam, okay?"

I nodded again, wishing I was somewhere else.

She popped back took a couple of pictures, checked her camera, they had come out, and I pulled up my knickers. Still feeling hot and bothered, I pulled on the dress while Stella looked for something for herself. She zipped me up and stripped down to her own underwear, "That's what a real one looks like," she flashed her fanny at me. I gasped. "See now we're quits." She laughed and I blushed again.

She pulled on a blue dress and I zipped it for her, then as she looked at herself in the mirror, she swore. "Bugger, the bloody hem is coming down and I've only worn it once."

"Let me see," I picked up the end of the dress and examined the hem. "It's only in a couple of places, you could sort that in half an hour max."

"Not me sweetie, can't thread a needle, that's what nannies were for."

"You do have a needle and thread?"

"Probably."

"I've got my 'housewife' in my case. Take it off I'll do it for you."

"Housewife?"

"Yeah, in the services they used to call a sewing kit that, they used them for running repairs. Mine is probably a bit better and does have a few different coloured cottons."

"You can sew?"

"I can do the basics, like repair a hem or take up trousers, darn socks, sew on a button, why?"

"Who taught you?"

"Did a couple of lessons in school, all the boys had to and the girls did changing a plug and stuff. Then before I went away to uni, my mum insisted I learn enough to be self sufficient in cooking cleaning and clothing repairs."

"Wow, I'm impressed," Stella took off the dress and handed it to me. I went and got my 'housewife'. Actually it was a bit more than that, it was a small workbox, a Tupperware sort, with needles, pins, a dozen different cottons and silks, spare buttons, some velcro and a tape measure.

"I'll go and shower then," said Stella as she went off to the bathroom.

I took off the posh dress I had on, and sat in my undies as I measured and pinned the damaged hem, then threaded my needle and got sewing. I actually enjoyed it, although the light wasn't brilliant, but there wouldn't be too many stitchmarks.

I was still engrossed when she came back wrapped in a couple of towels. "How goes it?"

"Nearly finished." I snipped off the cotton and handed her the dress. "You are so clever, no wonder Simon wants to keep you for himself."

"It's not clever, Stella, it's basic housekeeping."

"Not these days, I have colleagues who stick the hems of their jeans up with bandaids, one girl did her's with a stapler."

"It's not rocket science."

"Can you knit and crochet too?"

"Yeah, a bit but I prefer embroidery, or did. That was what provoked my father to beat me."

"What embroidery?"

"Yes, my mother caught me at it and I was cheeky to her. She told my dad and he beat me."

"Yet she taught you to sew."

"Emergency repairs, not for pleasure."

"Oh, there's a difference?"

"It would seem she thought so. I still miss her though."

"I'm sure you do Sis." She hugged me, "And thanks for doing my dress."

"It's what sisters are for isn't it?" I offered quietly.

Her eyes misted, and she nodded,"Yeah," and she sniffed, "absolutely."
She hugged me again, "I'm so glad we're sisters."

"So am I Stella," and I hugged her back.

"Come on, go shower or we're going to be late."

"Yes boss," I said and grabbing my towels scampered to the bathroom.

She did my hair for me, and I quickly threw on some makeup. I'm tempted to say slap, but I didn't use any skin makeup, just eyes and lips and a tiny bit of blusher. Then into the green dress and, thankfully, I had a pair of courts with me. I don't know why, probably left from the last time I used the case, and the matching small handbag.

"Hey you look great," said Stella watching me dress.

"You look pretty cool yourself."

"Do I? Thanks." She primped in front of my mirror again. I squirted some Opium in various nooks and crannies and misted some and walked into it. "Hey girl, it's like a chemical alert!" she coughed and waved her hand in front of her face.

"Keeps vampires and aristocrats away." I joked.

"It's certainly working with me," she said running away squealing.

The meal was delicious and I ate too much. I had melon, lemon sole and roulade. Stella had scallops instead of sole and Simon had steak tartare. He also ordered two bottles of claret, which I discovered were a hundred quid each.

The wine was delicious too, but I can get a quite nice burgundy in Morrison's or Tesco for a fiver when they're on offer. I had one glass, drinking water the rest of the evening.

Stella and Simon finished the bottles and ordered brandies, I asked for tea instead. Simon was horrified but I insisted. They were both getting very tipsy and Stella had driven us in the Saab.

"Whoosh gonna drive?" asked Simon, because he couldn't anyway.

"Me, I sh'poshe," giggled Stella.

"Why don't we get a taxi?" I suggested.

"Why?" asked Stella.

"Because you're just the teeniest bit pissed Sis."

"How, d'you know mish shmarty pantsh?"

"As you have both had the best part of a bottle of wine and a brandy each, I think it's a reasonable surmise, don't you?"

"Here you drive," she threw the keys towards me, except they went over my head onto the next table, landing in someone's meal. She nearly became hysterical, giggling. The person on the next table didn't think it was so funny.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Said a large man who glowered at us, he held up the keys and they were dripping with gravy.

Stella nearly fell off her chair, she was laughing so much. Simon was trying not to look, feigning some sort of headache. So things seemed to fall to me to sort it out.

"I am so sorry, I missed it when she threw it to me. Can I get you a drink and your wife, of course."

He glared at me and then back at the drunken siblings, "You're not planning on driving after drinking are you?"

"I'm driving, and I haven't been drinking. Now can I get you and your wife a drink and convey my sincere apologies. Okay then, how about a bottle of house red?" I took the dripping keys and wiped them in my napkin.

I summoned a waiter and ordered a bottle of wine and asked to put it on our bill. He dashed off and I apologised once more to our neighbours. Simon had managed to stop Stella convulsing by now, although he was more than three sheets to the wind, himself. He did manage to find his credit card and pay the bill. I didn't like to look, I could have lived on that for a month, foodwise anyway.

Then I walked them one at a time out to the car, sitting Simon in the front and Stella behind him. I got in the driver's side and saw it was another automatic. Oh shit! Why can't Simon get proper cars?

I started it, put it in drive and released the handbrake after turning on the lights. They were both nodding off to sleep as I managed to drive out of the carpark and towards the city centre.

I drove more slowly than I would have done in my little Mercedes or even Dad's Mondeo, but somehow I got us home and in one piece. I was bathed in sweat, and it reminded me of the times I used to go out with my driving instructor. He was a nightmare anyway! 'When I squeeze your leg, do an emergency stop,' he used to say, and when I challenged him, he said all driving instructors did it. I found out later, they didn't, and I was learning as Charlie!

Somehow, I got them both into the house and locked the door, Stella I manhandled up the stairs, took off her dress and laid her in her undies in the bed. Simon, was a different challenge. He was totally zonked on the sofa, so I lifted up his legs and covered him with a blanket. He was snoring 'Rule Britannia' or something similar when I went out to the kitchen and made myself a cuppa and took it to bed with me.

Until they had got bladdered, it had been a nice evening. Stella had proposed a toast to Simon and me, when the wine arrived. I did one to 'sisters' and Simon did one to his 'angels'. We ate a fabulous meal and they just over imbibed. I suspected Stella would be over the limit tomorrow, thank goodness she wasn't working.

I drank my tea as I undressed, the green confection was another designer label. I felt like a model, getting to wear other people's clothes. I hung the dress up and changed into my nightdress, cleaned my teeth and went to bed.

I reflected on the day, I still wasn't sure about anything except that I loved Simon and his crazy sister, now my crazy sister. That felt good, probably the best thing that had ever happened to me. I also resolved to see Dr Thomas at the first opportunity. I would call her office first thing tomorrow.

I drifted in and out of sleep, feeling hot because we'd eaten so late. I dreamt I was getting married and my mother was there holding out something blue - her sapphire necklace and earings, and smiling. When I woke, I was crying because I knew she would have approved of what I was doing and I promised I would wear her jewellery when I got married.

I would need to talk to my father soon too. That was another problem. Just what was I going to do with him? I slept fitfully after that waking when I heard Simon shouting for help.

I ran downstairs and he was struggling to disentangle himself from the blanket, "Need a pee," he said. I pulled off the blanket and pulled him upright, he wasn't very steady but I steered him into the cloak room and held up the bottle for him, he used it as I looked away. Then after clearing up, I helped him upstairs. He's a biggish man and I struggled to push him up, but we made it, then I had to help him undress and pull on his pyjamas, finally he was in bed. He farted and rolled over to sleep on his back. I pecked him goodnight and went back to my own bed. It was four o'clock, with luck I'd manage another three hours.

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Feel free to comment, it makes the story seem interesting, if that's possible. 8)

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Comments

Hmmm, problems

Stella I manhandled up the stairs. Wouldn't that be womanhandled?

But I'm a bit concerened with the siblings' alcohol consumption. That kind of "social drinking" can be an indicator of problems. Never heard it called "bladdered" though, blotto maybe. Must be another of those crazy limey terms! ;)

Karen J.

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way."

College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Problems?

Firstly, Cathy isn't a woman yet - strictly speaking, so manhandled is correct (manhandled is correct anyway).

Secondly, drinking is a national pastime here in England, more so in France and mostly the rest of Europe too, it's only America where any more than a small beer a month is termed as a problem.

As for crazy limeys, well, that goes without saying...

(other expressions for drunkenness...

Blotto
Mullered
Pissed
Rat-arsed
Fucked
Sloshed
Inebriated
Totalled

There are others, but these should keep you going for a while.)

An old elbow-bender myself Nick

I've done my share of recreational imbibing, and it's not that I disapprove. But when people behave in a manner such as is portrayed here, then I'd have to say they are either close to or already across the line from social drinking to binge drinking with it's concurrent abuse problems. Having been a barmaid/cocktail waitress myself I know I served people who were clearly over the line of alcohol intoxication, and that line was alot higher in those days than it is today. But if one of my customers were to exhibit the behavior that Simon and Stella showed the only thing they'd get from me would be a cup of coffee and a taxi.

Having also been a police officer I won't tell you about the times I had to scrape somebody up after a night of drinking. But one of my best friends, my hair stylist and the model for Sarah in my "Twins" stories, was killed by a drunk driver who crossed the centerline and struck her car head-on. So I tend not to find anything entertaining about a person who gets, as we used to say, "knee-walking drunk".

As for "woman-handled" I still say it's appropriate in Cathy's case. ;) However, as Foghorn Leghorn (of Looney Tunes cartoon fame) used to say, "That's a joke son, that's a joke!" :)

Karen J.

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way."

College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

I completely understand Karen

I used to be something of a dipsomaniac, looking for any excuse to be squiffy, but nowadays, I'm much less inclined. The morning after syndrome for a start is not something I used to think about, but now is something I think of first, which kinda puts one off the rest - before it's even begun!

I have to agree with an old friend of mine who stated everything in moderation - including moderation.

It's nice to go overboard every once in a while even if it's only to remind you why you don't do it anymore!

Nick

Stoned?

When I grew up in Southern England (yes - not far from our heroines Pompey/Portsmouth) my peers would use "stoned" to describe extreme intoxication. And with reference to alcohol - not cannabis or any other drug. Maybe it was just peculiar to my home town. As we seldom ventured further, I can't comment on wider use of the term.

The yoof of today seem to use the term solely with reference to the drug though. Is that a reflection of the changes in society I wonder?

Oh and I would like to add "out of his/her skull" to the list of over imbibing terms.

Bashed, beery, befuddled, bibulous, blind, blitzed, bombed, ...

Rhona McCloud's picture

boozed, boozed up, buzzed, cockeyed, crapulent, crapulous, crocked, dead drunk, delirious, drunk, drunk as a skunk, drunken, feeling good, feeling no pain, flushed, flying, fried, fuddled, glazed, gone, groggy, half in the bag, half-crocked, half-seas-over, high, high as a kite, hooched up, inebriated, in one's cups, intoxicated, juiced, laced, liquored up, lit, loaded, looped, lushed, mellow, muddled, pickled, pie-eyed, pissed, pixilated, plastered, polluted, potted, rat-arsed, ratted, sauced, schnockered, seeing double, slopped, sloppy, sloshed, smashed, soaked, soused, sozzled, squiffy, stewed, stiff, stinko, stoned, tanked, three sheets to the wind, tiddly, tight, tipsy, totaled, unsober, under the influence, under the table, wasted, woozy, zonked

Researched in pubs, inns, bars, saloons........ around the world

Rhona McCloud

Comments?

I know I'm supposed to comment from time to time at least but I'm a little lost as to how often is good and what I could say other than "Keep up the good work. I'm enjoying it immensely. It's hard to drag myself away to do the stuff I'm supposed to do, exciting stuff like housework!"

All I can do is to thank you profusely for doing this for me, well, us, eh? (Yeah, I'm Canajun, eh?)

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

Canuck?

Angharad's picture

Isn't that the term that N.Americans who aren't Yankees use?

Angharad

Angharad

Canuck eh?

A Canuck eh, is definitely eh, a Canadian eh.

I thought a Canajun…

…was a duck from New Orleans! Work it out!*

Gabi

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* Canajun = Canard (duck in French) + cajun

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Inhibitions

Wendy Jean's picture

I get the feeling both the siblings are more relaxed with Cathy around. It is part of the mix.

That tucking does not seem

That tucking does not seem very safe to me.
Testicle need to be kept at at a lower temperate to the rest of the body.
if they are tucked in side the body they will be too hot and there is a hight risk of cancer.
They as lease need to be taken out at night. Tucking 24/7 is a bad idea.

Please....

Angharad,
Please stop putting your excellent work down. It entertains thousands, has stood the test of time, gives you a creative outlet and us topics for debate.
Thank you.

Love, Bev x