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The Family Heirloom by Marianne Nettes She stood staring at me as I entered the room, her hands on her hips, and her shoulders thrust right back, pushing her breasts out towards me. Not that they needed any extra pushing ? as big as succulent grapefruit with nipples like soft thimbles, they had plenty enough thrust of their own. She was wearing one of those peasant type shifts, where the top is gathered by a cord tied at the front, and, depending upon preference, can be worn on or off the shoulder. This was right off, and it was only the size of her magnificent breasts, which prevented the dress from slithering to the ground. Red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green eyes looked directly into mine, challenging me to do whatever I would dare. Some men would have promptly stepped forward and pushed her onto the chaise longue immediately behind. Pausing only to release their flies, they would have plunged straight into her, for this was a girl who would need no foreplay to warm her up. Other men might have been more cautious, perhaps caressing a nipple, biting an ear lobe or kissing those soft, full lips. As for me, I cleared my throat in which, within the last ten seconds, a large lump had formed and said in a rather squeaky voice, 'Hello Marion. I'm Rick Nettles. Jed suggested you might like to join us downstairs.' **************************** Well, hardly the most dramatic chat up line, even for me. I had been totally unprepared for such a sex bomb to be in the room. After all, I thought, Jed could have warned me. On the other hand, perhaps it had been his intention for me to be as shocked as I had. As the seconds ticked by whilst I waited for her to respond, I wondered who she was. Could she be Jed's daughter? She looked in her mid twenties, probably about thirty years younger than Jed, so it was certainly possible. But then Jed's age was all-wrong. As my great uncle ? my grandfather's brother ? he should have been at least in his eighties, or ? as was my grandfather ? kicking up daisies in the cemetery. He certainly should not have been siring the kind of beautiful young women before me, who made me feel positively ancient. Still Marion had not spoken. I hoped she wasn't going to be difficult. Perhaps Jed had asked me to get her to come down because they weren't speaking to each other. I moved closer to her, and slightly to one side, so as to be less confrontational. 'Marion, do you not want to come downstairs?' Still she did not reply. I sighed. How the hell had I got into this position? ****************** It wasn't a difficult question. The letter had arrived that very Friday morning. Dear Rick I hope I am addressing the right Rick Nettles, the grandson of my brother Walter Nettles, of Forest Row, Tulse Hill. Either way, perhaps you could give me a call. If you are my great nephew, I would very much like to meet you and discuss the family heirloom. Yours sincerely Jed Nettles I'd never heard my father mention his uncle, but since he'd rarely associated with, or even spoken about most of his family, I wasn't surprised to learn of a previously unknown great uncle. I had lost no time in telephoning him ? the family heirloom sounded positively riveting, particularly for someone in my financial position ? out of work and broke. As we agreed, I had arrived at his house after lunch. He had a large Victorian house in a part of London I thought only multi-millionaires could afford. Could this wonderful house be the family heirloom, I wondered? If Jed had fallen out with his daughter, perhaps he was going to leave the place to me! In which case, maybe I shouldn't try too hard to heal any rift between them. But even as I thought it, I angrily rejected the very idea. No, if I could help Jed and Marion to talk, I would, and if that helped me to get inside Marion's knickers, all the better! If only I'd known. Still Marion had not spoken, and as I carefully eyed her, I realised she had not moved a muscle since I entered the room ? in fact she was still staring at the door, as though I wasn't even there. 'Marion, are you alright?' I moved closer. She wasn't even showing signs of breathing. Perhaps she was in some kind of trance ? on drugs, perhaps? I tentatively reached out a hand to squeeze her arm. That's when I simultaneously discovered two things ? one, there was no warm, soft flesh on her arm ? it was rock solid. Secondly, even as I gently held her arm, her whole body moved with it ? it was lightweight, and would have toppled over, had I not grasped the mannequin firmly in both hands! ********************* 'I see you've become acquainted with Marion.' Jed smiled at my look of part anger, part embarrassment, as I carried the mannequin downstairs. 'Ha, ha, very funny. You might have told me.' 'It's always good for Marion to meet people by herself, the first time. That way she can decide for herself whether she likes them. She obviously likes you, letting you carry her like that. She wouldn't let everybody do it.' Jed was obviously a nutter. Perhaps I should leave immediately. On the other hand, perhaps he was a nutter getting rid of a family heirloom. I stayed. 'Jed, you said in your letter you wanted to talk about the family heirloom.' 'I think you and Marion will get on famously,' Jed said, as though I hadn't spoken. I was about to re-phrase my statement, when a horrid thought struck me. Perhaps Jed had responded to my question. 'Jed, when you mentioned a heirloom in your letter, what exactly did you mean.' 'Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I meant Marion, of course.' Shit! What did he expect me to do with it. Start up a dress shop. Alternatively, perhaps I could rent it to the landlord at my local pub. He would have been delighted to let her stand in his window, for she'd have brought customers flocking in. Unfortunately, it was hardly going to make my fortune. 'Jed, you'll forgive me for asking, but I don't quite understand.' 'No of course you don't. The point is, there's a story about Marion. Now, would you like a beer, whilst I tell you? ******************* 'Marion was one of our ancestors. She was born in 1725, and executed for witchcraft on this very day, two hundred and fifty years ago.' 'Wow! I never realised we had a witch in the family.' Jed smiled and nodded. 'The family always kept it quiet. I can remember my own surprise when I found out.' 'Do we know what she looked like? I mean, if she looked anything like the mannequin you have here, I can understand why people thought she had the devil in her.' Another smile. 'Oh yes, Marion looked exactly like the woman you see before you.' I wondered how he knew. After all, it wasn't as though she'd have had her photograph taken, was it? He read my thoughts. 'Let me explain. When Marion was sentenced to execution by the presiding magistrate, who was the local squire, she issued a curse. She said that any person who destroyed her beauty would rot in eternal hell.' 'I guess that's the kind of thing most people would say, if they'd been sentenced to be burnt at the stake for witchcraft.' 'The squire took her curse very seriously ? after all, she had been found guilty, so everyone believed it would come true. Let me read to you what was written at the time by the local diarist.' He opened a ring binder and read from one of the sheets: 'Fearful that any more curses should be uttered by Marion the Witch, the squire had her gagged and tied over a large barrel in his stable yard. Then he had his rapier brought from the house and, being carefully not to put even the tiniest scratch on her skin, he slid the rapier up her cunt, until it had pierced her heart?' 'Jesus Christ!' Jed looked up. 'It may sound barbaric, but in comparison to being slowly burnt at the stake, it was quite a humane way to die. The squire gained a lot of respect for performing the task personally. But it was what he did after her death that marked him as a overly cautious man.' He read on. 'Mindful that his action would soon cause her beautiful body to decay most horribly, the squire then sent for Tom York, who had a rare talent for skinning and stuffing wild boar and deer, or any other animal one might want to keep and display to others. Tom?' 'Holy shit! He had her skinned and?' My voice trailed off, and I gazed in horror at the mannequin. For this was no artist's impression of a long dead ancestor. Standing by the table was Marion ? skinned and stuffed. ******************************* I drank rather more of Jed's beer than I intended, that afternoon. It was the only way I could stop myself from shaking. Jed was most unsympathetic. 'I must say, I think you're making a big issue out of the whole thing. After all, we know that hundreds of women were executed in a most horrific manner for witchcraft. Marion was humanely killed, then preserved for ever, so that she can be with us today. If you like, she's been given eternal life. Now, why don't you just look at her a bit more closely, and admire the handiwork of Tom York.' Certainly, the man must have had rare skills. She looked as natural today as she had done two hundred and fifty years ago, as good as the best of any waxworks in Madame Tussaud's. 'It's only the skin that is original,' Jed continued. 'The frame on which it sits has been refurbished many times. I had the current one made a few years ago by someone who modified a tailor's dummy so that it was just the right shape and size. It has the added advantage that you can move her into any natural position.' He got up, and moved her onto the settee on which I sat, and pushed her into position next to me. Very, very slowly, I reached out a hand and touched her skin. It was truly remarkable. 'Incredible,' I agreed. 'You look a very nice couple, sitting together like that. I'm sure you'll get on well with each other.' It was fortunate by then that I'd downed three bottles of his excellent beer. Otherwise, I might have had an attack of hysterics. As it was, I took it relatively calmly. 'You must be out of your fucking mind!' 'I wonder if you'd mind not swearing in front of the lady. I understand you may be a little surprised, if not to say apprehensive about such an important role. However, it is a tradition that one member of our family provides a home for Marion for fifty years at a time. My fifty years expires today, and I have nominated you to take over.' 'But you can't just nominate me ? I have to agree. Anyway, how can you have given her a home fifty years ago? You could only have been a young child.' He smiled again. 'Appearances can be deceptive. I am much older than I appear. Now, you will agree to keep up the family tradition, won't you?' I paused then, as a thought flashed through my mind. Jed had said I had to provide a home for her. Well, there are more ways than one to provide a home. For example, everyone knows that historic things needed to be kept in controlled environments, to prevent them decaying. And where do you find such environments? Why in museums, of course. And with her history, wouldn't museums bid ridiculous amounts of money for a chance to acquire Marion for themselves? Of course they would. If I was to agree to take care of Marion, I could not only make certain she had a home far more suitable than I could provide, I would also make myself one very rich man. 'Well, I suppose I could find accommodation for her.' Jed smiled some more. 'I knew you would.' ************** 'It's better if no one knows the truth about Marion,' Jed had said. Well, certainly until the time came when I wanted to put her on the market; that was true. Otherwise, the rumours about me would have spread like wildfire. Fortunately, we managed to get Marion into my first floor flat without anyone apparently noticing. Jed had driven me over in his car, Marion and I sitting together on the back seat, like a pair of lovers. When we arrived outside my flat, we carried her between us, as though she was a bit the worse for drink. Now she stood in my lounge, with a small suitcase standing next to her ? her travelling suitcase, Jed had said, and explained he would get a van to deliver the rest of her things. Well that had thrown me. After all, you don't expect a dummy to come with a vanload of luggage, do you? Whilst I was still reeling from the thought of my tiny flat full of doll's furniture, Jed dropped the second bombshell ? Marion had to be oiled every day. 'Oiled!' 'I'm afraid so. You see, normally the body supplies the skin with all kinds of oils to keep it healthy. Obviously, the tailor's dummy can't do that so you have to do it manually. You simply remove the skin from the dummy and rub olive oil on the inside. I always use extra virgin olive oil ? so I try to replace what she gave away at a very early age.' He had smiled at his own joke. I certainly couldn't afford to have Marion's condition deteriorate, otherwise it could significantly affect the sale price, so I guessed I was going to have to put up with a daily oiling, for the time being. But it certainly made me more determined than ever to put her on the market as soon as I could. Jed had wished me good luck with her and departed, leaving the two of us to commence our first evening together. I hoped she didn't mind what I watched on TV! After I'd spent ten minutes glowering at her, I decided I had better oil her straightaway. As luck would have it, I did have some extra virgin olive oil in my kitchen cupboard. Jed had explained that the skin was in three pieces ? the head, arms and torso formed one complete section, which was fastened together at the groin ? a bit similar to a leotard with a gusset fastening. Then each leg, complete with hip and buttock, was separate. During Marion's last refit, Jed had replaced the original hook and eye fastenings with concealed plastic zips, which connected the three parts together. Jed showed me how to find the zip fasteners by slipping a finger up her pussy and releasing a tiny catch. Once I'd located the zip fasteners, it was simple to release the leg sections, and I carefully pulled them off the dummy, like pulling down a stocking. The skin was as diaphanous as a sheer stocking, so thin it felt as though it had no thickness at all, but unlike stockings which always seem to snag on the roughness of my hands, it was so smooth that it felt good just sliding it over my own skin. The leotard skin was more difficult to get off the dummy, especially sliding the neck and wrists over the dummy's head and hands, and in fact the left glove of skin turned inside out, something that Jed had said should be avoided as it stressed the skin. I realised then that unless I turned the whole thing inside out, I was going to have problems getting the olive oil to the tips of the fingers. Fortunately, it only took me a couple of seconds to work out the answer. I stripped off my shirt, and liberally coated my left arm and hand with oil. Then I carefully slid my arm inside the leotard and into the left sleeve, pushing it down the length of the sleeve until I came to the glove. It was a bit tricky getting the glove reversed from its inside-out state, but I finally managed it by slowly sliding my own hand inside it, whilst working the outside with my other hand. Not surprisingly, once inside, it fitted, quite literally, like a glove. Well actually, it fitted far better than a glove. It was like a second skin, which of course, is exactly what it was. The skin was so thin and sensitive; I could feel my breath on the back of my hand. I turned my hand over and clenched and unclenched it. To all intents and purposes, it was my own skin covering my hand ? except that unlike mine, it was smooth and silky, and the small mole at the base of my thumb appeared to have disappeared. The nails were fantastic ? I'd always been ashamed of my nails, frequently biting, picking or breaking them, but never having the willpower to do anything about it. Now I had an exquisite set ? not particularly long, of course, but strong and even. I pulled the sleeve of the leotard further up my arm, past the elbow. The beauty of it made me gasp with delight. Wow, I thought, just think what kind of change she would make to my face. The idea sent a gush of excitement through my body, and left me with an urge as strong as any I've ever experienced. I frenziedly wriggled my arm out of the sleeve, and rushed into the bathroom where I kept my beard trimmer. In seconds, I had removed the beard I'd nurtured since my university days. I found a razor left by a long past girlfriend, soaped my face and shaved it clean. Then, as an afterthought, I got into the shower, and soaped my body all over and shaved every hair from it. Only when I had towelled myself dry and was coating olive oil in every crack and crevice of my body, did I consider what I was actually planning to do ? get inside the skin of a dead person! I was about to perform an act of necrophilia! I thought for a few seconds, then I told myself that necrophilia only applied to recent corpses. It was perfectly respectable to handle long dead people, otherwise every Egyptologist would have to be locked up. It provided me with moral justification for what I was about to do, but I had a strong suspicion that, even had the skin still been dripping with Marion's blood, nothing would have prevented me from climbing inside her at that moment. She slipped onto my body with no trouble! I put both arms above my head and wriggled into the sleeves, working the leotard down to the point where my head could push through the neck of it. By this time, I had my fingers properly located in the gloves, so I could use my hands to assist the skin over my head. It stretched so easily around my head, it was like shoving my cock into a vagina, only I didn't have to withdraw it and shove it back in again to satisfy my urges ? just feeling her soft hair gently brush against my cheeks was almost orgasmic. I slid the skin over my face so that all the holes lined up with the appropriate bits. I walked over to the mirror and made minor adjustments to the skin, pushing it here, sliding it there, until it felt comfortable. The basic outline of my jaw line was, of course, unchanged, but it was incredible how the skin had pulled my flesh into a very different shape, raising my cheeks, and squashing my nose, and giving my lips a fleshy pout ? all quite subtle variations, but which made a tremendous difference to my overall appearance. One eye at a time, I pulled the skin of the eyelid down over my own eyelid, so that her long eyelashes merged with mine. I blinked a few times ? the eyelids worked perfectly, but still I felt there was something not quite right. Then it hit me. Her green eyes. I turned back to the dummy. Sure enough, Jed had used green contact lenses to give Marion the colour in her eyes. I'd tried wearing lenses a few times in the past, and never got on well with them, but now was not the time for being faint hearted. I took them out of the dummy's eyes, rinsed them, and placed them in my own. I blinked a few more times, and after the initial sting, they were like a dream. In fact there must have been some correction factor in the lenses, for I could see quite clearly. I looked again in the mirror, and stared gob-smacked at Marion's beautiful face looking back at me. She smiled, and twinkled her eyes, and then pouted her lips and blew a kiss. I went weak at the knees and I felt an orgasm start to sweep through me that was so strong I had to clutch the sides of the mirror to stop myself collapsing. It was like no orgasm I had ever known before. Orgasms have the penis at the epicentre, and last only as long as it continues to spurt out semen. The epicentre of this orgasm was in my head, and instead of ejaculating itself out within twenty seconds; it went reverberating around and around ? wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure. I must have clung on like that for ten minutes, until finally the waves receded, and I was able to stand upright again, without my knees collapsing under me. Once I could let go of the mirror and had calmed down a bit, I was able to carry on with my transformation. I slid the skin down over my chest. Of course, I'd realised that my breasts, or to be more accurate, the lack of them, was going to be a big problem. Marion's were the size of large grapefruit, and I guessed I would have to find some suitable substitute to pad them out to the right size. First though, I needed to assess the magnitude of the problem. I pulled the leotard down to my navel. Sure enough, the skin over the breasts hung like empty plastic bags. It looked obscene, so I started to smooth the skin over my own chest, by squeezing the skin's nipple against my own, and then pushing the skin outwards from that centre. Strangely, after each little push outwards, the skin appeared to pull part of my flesh with it, as it stretched back to its original position, and this made it easier for the next piece of skin to properly seat. After I'd worked the area for about five minutes, the skin of both breasts had adhered completely to my chest, and had formed two tiny breasts out of my own flesh ? perhaps big enough to fill a AA bra, but nothing like Marion's magnificent cleavage. What happened then took me as much by surprise as an innocent girl watching her first erection, and I suppose it had the same kind of biological explanation. As I stared in the mirror at my miniscule lumps, they started to swell. First the nipples poked themselves erect, then the rest of the breast started to grow, in the same way that a balloon inflates. I gasped, and held them tightly, trying to stop them growing in this most unnatural way. But just like an erection, the harder I squeezed, the more unstoppable was their growth, until the point when they'd inflated into the two most luscious breast I had ever seen. Christ! If I could patent that, I'd become a millionaire overnight. On the other hand, I surmised, it would create an unsupportable demand for the skin of large breasted women. Perhaps women would go onto skin transplant lists, hoping for donors to die at the time when their breasts had reached maximum size. I shuddered. This kind of secret was best kept from the world, forever. Nonetheless, I was delighted with my own transformation, and I rolled the leotard down the rest of my body, and was about to fasten it between the legs when I realised there was a natural obstacle in the way. I was amazed to see that in spite of my sexual excitement, I didn't have an erection. In fact, my cock looked extremely offended that I'd been having orgasms without it being involved. I hadn't seen it looking so small since I was a kid. I shrugged. I didn't have time to nurture the feelings of cocks. I wasn't certain exactly what I should do with it, but I grasped the testicle sac and gently squeezed the testicles up inside my body. Then I wrapped the sac around my penis, and pushed that inside my body as well. With my free hand, I pulled the gusset of the leotard firmly between my legs, enabling me to release the hand keeping my genitals in place, and reach behind to grasp the rear part of the gusset, and fasten the two parts together with a click. I was almost complete. The two legs went on without problems, except that the skin over the buttocks was as sloppy as it had been over my breasts, but I simply smoothed the skin over my own and then, just as with my breasts, my buttocks swelled up until I had the most delightful arse you could ever wish to spank. Finally, I fastened the two zips securing the legs to the leotard, and pushed the zip pulls between the lips of my vagina. Although I hadn't like to look at it too carefully, Tom York had preserved Marion's vagina along with her skin. From the outside, it looked fine, and I slipped a finger inside to check things out. My pseudo vagina was actually remarkably roomy, and I wasn't certain which bit of my flesh had swollen or contracted to make room for it, but certainly it looked and felt like a nice cunt. All I needed to do now was to get dressed and go out and find some big prick to fill it. ******************** Did I say that? I don't believe it! Anyway, even if I did say it, I didn't really mean it. I was just paraphrasing the kind of statement Marion might have made. From her appearance, she had been, as they'd have said in those times, a lady of easy virtue. No, I guess in those times they'd have said she was an evil witch! Anyway, I can't stand around naked like this, all evening. Now that I've properly oiled the skin, perhaps I should take it off and revert to being Rick Nettles. ******************* Yeah! And pigs might fly! Instead, I opened Marion's small suitcase and looked inside. There was some underwear and skimpy night attire, a small handbag, and a toilet bag. That was all. No other clothes to wear. That meant I had to put back on the peasant style shift Marion had been wearing all afternoon. What a pain! A girl needed a change of clothes at least every three hours. I hoped Jed would send over my clothes ? sorry, Marion's clothes ? quite soon. I put on a clean pair of white knickers (did mannequins get their knickers dirty, I wondered) and a strapless white bra, and then slipped the shift over my head. I put on the sandals Marion had been wearing ? then had another look in the mirror. I wanted to create just the right impression, so perhaps I could loosen the cord securing the top of the dress a little more ? after all, with nipples poking out like mine, there was no way the dress was going to slide off. I had several attempts at getting the top just right, until finally I was satisfied. There'd been no doubt in my mind about exactly where I was going, once I was dressed. On a Friday night, my local pub, the Cock Inn, would be full of the regulars. I knew most of them, although liked very few. Many were loud mouths, who talked only about football, which bored me sick, or of their conquests of fabulous women, who (they said) queued up for the pleasure. The trouble was, I thought, some of it was probably true, and it made me green with jealousy. Now, I was incredibly excited at the thought of going in, dressed as a woman, and having them all try to chat me up, with the ulterior motive of sticking their pricks inside me. I only had five pounds in my wallet, which I transferred to the small handbag ? I would have to make it last as long as possible. If I was convincing, they'd all be buying me drinks anyway. A final check in the mirror ? I looked fabulous ? before putting my keys in my handbag and walking out the door. I'd been a bit apprehensive about strolling down the street dressed as a woman. OK, with the skin on, I looked exactly like a beautiful woman, but there was more to it than that. There were quite a few people out on that Friday evening, and I was suddenly aware that everybody seemed to be looking at me. Was I do something wrong? After all, women do almost everything differently to men, including walking. Fortunately, the heels weren't too high and I thought I was managing them quite well, but women sway their hips as they walk, and I didn't know exactly how much sway was needed to look good, and how much is totally over the top. I experimented a bit, and after being wolf whistled by a group of twelve year old boys, I decided to drop the experiment and revert almost to my normal walk, only taking much smaller steps than my usual mannish stride. It was as I was crossing the road that I saw a really sexy woman reflected in a shop window. I started to look round for her so I could clock her in the flesh, when I realised I was looking at myself! Bloody hell! I not only felt great, I looked great as well. And then I realised this was the reason people were staring at me ? because I looked so sexy ? the blokes all wanted to shag me, and the women were envious. I entered the pub and the general mutter of conversation came to a delicious halt. I put an extra bit of sway into my gait as I walked over to the bar where Peter, the landlord was looking at me appreciatively. 'Hello love. Haven't seen you in here before. What are you drinking?' I froze! I may look like a million dollars, but as soon as I opened my mouth, everybody would not only realise I was a bloke, but many would recognise my voice, and yell it out to the rest. They would probably lynch me for trying to deceive them, or worse, pull all my clothes off along with the false skin, and make me walk home naked. I was about to lose every bit of self respect I ever had. ******************** 'Sloe gin, please.' At the last instant, my senses had returned and I'd thought about how Marion would have responded ? with a country yokel type of lilt. I'd spoken quietly, and made the sentence as short as possible, making it difficult to detect I was a man. 'A slow gin?' He hadn't sussed me! But where the hell had I heard of a sloe gin? I'd have to look it up in the dictionary when I got home. 'In this place, every gin is a slow one. That is unless you look as beautiful as you do, in which case Pete'll serve you like greased lightning.' The voice, which came from my right shoulder, was one I immediately recognised ? Nick, with the big dick, or so he maintained. He smiled at me, then said to Peter, 'Give her a gin and blackcurrant. A large one, and it's on me.' His smile was back on me as he said, 'A sloe gin? That's not a term you hear every day?' 'Oh, it's just what we call it back home. I thought everyone used it. But you're right, gin and blackcurrant is what I wanted.' Did I? God how long was I going to be able to keep this voice up. 'So where's back home?' 'Somerset.' Well that was the area I was loosely basing my accent upon. 'How about that!' Another voice joined in from my left shoulder. This was Gary, every woman's saviour, or so he said. 'My brother's moved to Somerset. Whereabouts do you live?' God, every time I answered a question I got more thrown at me. Time to react like I'm in control of the conversation. 'Well, it's only a small village. If I told you its name, you'd as good as know my address, wouldn't you?' 'So what are you doing in this part of the world?' Nick With The Big Dick changed the topic from the geography of Somerset. It would need more improvisation, but at least my voice was becoming easier with practice. 'I'm staying with a friend.' I decided to add a little embellishment. 'Rick Nettles. He told me I'd like the Cock Inn.' He smiled at my innuendo. We were getting on great. 'Oh, you're a friend of Rick, are you?' If anyone else had confessed to that, Nick With The Big Dick would have treated them as though they were lepers, but he was prepared to overlook it for me. 'Do you know him well?' I glanced around the pub. Everyone was listening to our conversation. Well, what the hell. 'Quite well. He's got what I need in a bloke, and he's kind enough to give it to me. We meet up when we can.' 'Wouldn't have thought he was your type.' Gary was trying to get back into the conversation. 'So what is my type?' 'Well, someone like me.' I gave a quick glance down at his trousers ? nothing too obvious, just enough for him to notice ? and said, 'I don't think so, I prefer real men.' 'Like me, you mean,' Nick wasn't letting go. I turned around and gave the same kind of quick glance downwards ? and then did a double take. Why hadn't I noticed that bulge hanging down his trouser leg when he'd boasted about it in the past? 'Well, that's not bad, but I've found that size only means anything when the steam's up. Take Rick for example, he's nothing to look at until you see him in action. Then he's such a bloody stallion he could sire the next Derby winner. Now there's a nice set of balls.' Ed, the snooker shark, had been playing a difficult shot along the length of the snooker table, which meant bending over to cue the ball, whilst raising one leg in the air and laying it along the side of the table, letting his balls bulge through his trousers. He smirked at me, and I said, 'The snooker balls I'm talking about.' 'Do you play, love? Fancy a bit of fun?' I appeared to think about it. I did actually enjoy a game of snooker, even though I was a mediocre player. But I knew better than to play a game with Ed. It wasn't for fun, it was for money. No way, Jose. 'I don't mind if I do. I'm not a bad player, you know.' Holy shit. What on earth did I say that for? 'Great. Shall we make it a bit interesting? Say a tenner on it?' And that was the reason why you never say yes to a game with Ed. 'What do you take me for,' I said. 'I bet you're an ace player. Is that right, lads?' I turned to the others in the bar, who'd been watching the interchange with interest (and, no doubt, looking for an opportunity to start chatting me up). There was a general agreement with my supposition that he was an ace player. 'OK,' Ed said. 'Let's just make it a fiver?' No bloody way was I going to bet with him. A fiver was all I had for the entire evening. 'I'll bet you a fiver,' I said, 'but you're going to have to give me odds. I want ten to one, if I'm going to play with you.' 'Ten to one! You must be joking. I don't give odds.' That was OK, then. Odds only matter if you happen to win, and you don't win against Ed. 'What are you frightened of? You're the shit hot player. You said you wanted to make it interesting. Well, ten to one makes it interesting.' Why the hell didn't I just shut up? My audience were helping me along, now. 'Yeah.' 'He's scared he might lose.' 'He's always saying he likes to make it more interesting, but he's got no bottle.' 'Well,' I challenged him, 'are you shit hot, or not?' Ed made up his mind. After all, it wasn't as though he expected to lose, and having seen him play many times, I was certain that I would. 'OK, a fiver at ten to one.' Shit! Why had I goaded him like that? I might as well throw the fiver down the drain. I didn't play badly, compared to my usual game. In fact, compared to my usual game, I played bloody brilliantly. Of course, against Ed, that wouldn't normally have made any difference, he'd still have wiped the floor with me. But Ed didn't play normally. He was absolutely crap. He played foul balls, he miscued, and he even had the cue ball on the floor on one occasion. The worse he played, the more raucous the comments he received from the crowd. They jeered every dumb shot he made, and they cheered every one of my shots. In fact, they went wild each time my right tit popped out, just as I was about to cue the ball. I pretended to be embarrassed by it, and hurriedly tried to push it back inside the dress, because men like that kind of thing. Secretly, I was almost wetting myself with pleasure at their excitement. After twenty minutes of that, I was fifty quid better off. 'I'm just not psyched up to play odds,' Ed said, 'that was my problem. Let's play another game. Double or quits?' No way was I going to throw away the fifty quid I'd just taken from him. No way! 'OK,' I said. Jesus Christ, Ed wouldn't fluff two games on the trot. I'd be back to a fiver, again! He was even worse in the next game than the first, and I played even better. At the end of the game I had one hundred and five quid in my handbag. Not a bad return on an hour's play. 'Drinks all round,' I said, 'and an extra large one for my mate Ed.' He muttered something rude and walked out. *********************** It was the best night I'd ever had in the Cock Inn. I'd been going in there for years, and I'd never realised what a great bunch of guys they were. We chatted and larked, the innuendo so thick you could stir it with a spoon. I could even tell jokes without forgetting them or fluffing the punch line ? a first for me. The alcohol flowed freely. After I'd bought the first round, many insisted on buying me one in return. I'd just offered a second round out of my winnings, when a voice spoke from behind me. 'Did Rick teach you to play snooker?' It was Eric, good old boring Eric. 'Only you hold the cue in the same weird way that he does, but it seems to work better for you than it does for him.' 'I was just lucky tonight, but yes, you could say Rick taught me all I know ? about snooker, that is.' Why had I added that last bit? Eric looked me directly in the eye, and said, 'You can't fool me, you know.' I gasped. He'd sussed me. Somehow, I just knew it. 'Wha? what do you mean?' He nodded his head, knowingly, and said, 'Yes. That's exactly how Rick blusters.' He hesitated before continuing. 'Your name's not Marion, is it, and shall we say that you and Rick Nettles have a lot in common. Now am I right or am I right?' Yep, completely sussed. I had to play this calmly. I didn't think Eric would shout it out. So, as long as no one overheard us talking, it wasn't a disaster. I glanced around. Fortunately everyone was still at the bar making certain their drinks were replenished. 'Maybe.' I slowly nodded confirmation. 'But what made you suspect?' 'I saw Rick carrying you into his flat, this afternoon, so as soon as you walked in here, I guessed what had happened. When you asked for that sloe gin, it simply confirmed it.' Hang on, how did Eric understand the connection between me dressing up as a woman, and an eighteenth century woman asking for sloe gin? 'Sorry, Eric, I'm not quite certain how you work it out.' 'Well, Rick's told me all about his sister, who's an actress currently rehearsing for the part of Fanny Hill at the Richmond Theatre. And I suspect that, in the play, Fanny Hill has an occasional tipple of sloe gin. And I also believe I'm right in saying,' he lowered his voice and whispered the last few words, 'Rick's sister has a problem with alcohol.' If my face was blank, it was because my mind was in total chaos. What the hell was Eric talking about? He looked reproachfully at my gin and blackcurrant, and sadly shook his head. 'You'd obviously gone on a bender this afternoon, and were unconscious when Rick brought you back to his place. I know it's the preview for Fanny Hill on Monday, but alcohol won't make it magically better. Now, why don't you come back to my place and have a cup of coffee, before Rick realises you've left his flat and gone to the pub?' Dear Eric. Everyone else in the pub was wondering how to fuck me, and he was worried about me drinking too much. Dear, sweet Eric, he brought a tear to my eye. Hang on, I do not cry over Eric ? it must be a problem with my contact lens. 'OK, that's a great idea, Eric. I'll come and have a coffee with you.' 'You're not going back to Eric's!' Nick With The Big Dick had overheard the last few words. He was indignant. 'I mean, if you fancy a coffee, I have this great blend that's made up specially for me. It's special aroma puts you just in the mood?' 'Thanks Nick, but Eric's going to give me one.' I smiled to emphasise the double meaning. 'He has this great blend too.' I turned to him. 'What's it called, Eric?' 'Nescafe,' he said. I linked my arm in his, and we walked out of the pub together ********************** 'Thanks Eric, that was really sweet of you.' We'd walked back to his house, a boring semi-detached, painted a boring shade of shit brown, and he made the coffee ? not Nescafe at all but some acrid muck sold by a low cost supermarket. We sat on the boring floral settee in front of one of those electric bar heaters, where a light flickers underneath dusty, red and black plastic, hopelessly trying to imitate burning coal. 'It's a comfortable house you have here, Eric. How long have you had it?' 'It was my parents house. I lived here with my mother until she died last year. I'm on my own now.' 'No girl friend or wife?' 'Mother was always telling me to find a nice girl and settle down, but with her illness, I always had to spend a lot of time looking after her. When I did once bring back a girl from the car mechanics class, mother was really quite nasty to her ? said that mechanics was a man's job, and suggested that she must be butch. Valerie never came to the class again, and I haven't met anyone else.' He shrugged. 'So, no wife.' 'Yet you're a very nice person, Eric.' Jesus, how could I say that? Eric? Nice! He looked embarrassed. 'What makes you think that.'? 'The way you made me leave the pub, just now. And you were thoughtful enough to work out I was Rick's alcoholic sister.' Of course, now was the time to tell him I was not, but I didn't want to get into those dangerous waters again. 'Anybody would have done the same.' 'Eric, there were twenty blokes in that pub. Nineteen of them were trying to get me pissed so they could have sex with me ? even if I was paralytic at the time.' 'Rick would have done it for someone else's sister.' I wondered. Would he? 'Eric, do you know what I'm going to do now?' 'Go back to Rick's place?' 'Eric, as a thank you for getting me out of the pub, I'm going to kiss you.' There was an audible gulp from his Adam's apple. Jesus what had I said? No! No, I didn't mean it! No fucking way. Why am I moving along the settee, towards him? For fuck's sake! I briefly placed my lips on his and kissed him, then moved my lips a few inches away from him. 'There, that wasn't too bad, was it?' 'Er, no.' 'Do you mean "It wasn't too bad", or "It was actually rather nice"?' Please let him say it was fucking horrible. 'Well, it was rather nice.' 'I thought so too, so I'm going to do it again.' 'Oh well, if yo?' My lips closed over his. Christ! What was I doing? I was slipping my tongue between his lips, that's what I was doing! I moved away again. 'Is it still nice?' 'Oh yes, it's wonderful.' 'Well, this time, I want some audience participation. When I kiss you, I want you to place your hand on my breast, and squeeze it. Will you do that, for me?' Please, please say no. He nodded, and I kissed him again. He raised his hand, and I could feel it hovering, but not quite touching. I took his hand in mine, and pressed it against my left breast. He jerked a little, and so did I when he brushed my nipple. I felt it go rock hard, and he brushed it again. Jesus, stop that. No! Don't stop, it's absolutely gorgeous. Then his other hand was sliding across my right breast. I felt my heart leap into my mouth as that nipple also screamed pleasure at me. I withdrew my lips, and took his hands in mine and lifted them away from my breasts. 'That was very nice, Eric, didn't you think so.' He nodded furiously. 'I'd like to make love to you, Eric, if you agree.' 'Oh yes!' 'But there have to be some conditions, Eric.' 'Anything. Anything at all.' 'OK. Now you fancy sex with me, and I fancy sex with you?' No I fucking don't '?but that's all it's going to be. No long term relationship ? just a one night stand. OK?' 'But why?' 'Because you're the type to lose your heart to the first girl to come along, and you mustn't lose your heart over me. Now, have you got any condoms?' Please let him say no! 'Yes. Well, I think so. That's to say I think I can find one.' He went dashing upstairs and I followed him more sedately into the rear bedroom. I thought my bedroom was a mess ? you should have seen his! Junk piled everywhere, threadbare carpet and curtains, and a narrow single bed ? all of it looking incredibly grubby. He was on his knees, rummaging at the back of a drawer. Then he triumphantly pulled out a foil containing a single condom. 'There, I knew I'd still have it. I bought it when Valerie came round to tea, and I never?' 'Do you have a double bed in the house.' 'Only my mother's' He was horrified at the suggestion. 'Well Eric, we're going to break a few taboos, tonight.' I hadn't spoken a truer word all evening. 'Your mother's dead now. She won't be using it anymore, and I expect she would hate to see it wasted. People of her generation always did. So let's go and make certain we don't waste that wonderful bed.' I dragged him into the main bedroom ? almost a shrine. A big bed with polished brass bed knobs ? I bet Eric still polished those daily ? and an ancient dressing table and chest of drawers, each with their share of family photographs. I turned them all face down, then went back to lead him by the hand to the bed. Then I kissed him again, and I felt his hands reach up to my breasts. Heaven! No, it's not! Yes, it is! Then I felt something else pushing up towards my navel! I wriggled against him, and he grew bigger and harder. Bloody hell, he put me to shame. 'If you pull this cord,' I said, indicating the one securing the top of my dress, 'my dress will fall to the ground.' Thirty seconds later, my dress was off and he was frantically trying to undo my bra strap. When it wouldn't release, he tried to tear it off. I smiled at him. 'You'll never do it like that,' I told him, and I reached behind and it dropped away. Well, that was a first. I normally have more trouble with bras than Eric had done. I pulled his head down to my breasts, and he took a nipple in my mouth and sucked it. I felt a sweetness coming over me, and I had my first orgasm of the evening. Not mind blowing, like my earlier one, just incredible softness as my nipple cooed at me. I hung onto his head until it had passed, then slipped my hands under his shirt, feeling his hairy chest and small nipples. I undid the buttons on his shirt and slid it over his shoulders, then I slowly slithered down his body until I was kneeling before him. Now I could see the bulge which had been trying to drill a hole in my navel for the last few minutes. I ran my fingers over the bulge and he moaned. I was going to have to treat it very carefully to avoid him coming before I even got his trousers down. I decided discretion was the better part of valour. 'Right. Get undressed and into bed,' I said. 'I'm going to the bathroom.' I moved towards the door and added, 'No playing with yourself before I come back ? your mother wouldn't like it.' I gave him five minutes before I reappeared, one part of me dearly hoping he'd be asleep when I returned, the other part knowing that if he was, I'd wake the bugger up. He was wide-awake, with a tent pole pushing the sheets up into the air. I was still going to have to move very carefully to avoid him shooting his load over his mother's ceiling. I warily pulled the sheets right off and then I just gasped with joy. Joy? No, I mean horror! It was a monster! At least a foot long and two inches thick, and the veins visibly throbbing with excitement. 'Eric, how have you been able to keep this to yourself all this time. You should have had a queue of women at your door.' 'Sorry it's grown so big. I've never seen it like this before. I think you've had quite an effect on me. It's? I mean, it's not too big, is it?' Of course it was. All I had to do now was to say 'Yes, sorry', get dressed and walk out and go home. 'I have to admit I've never seen a monster like this,' I said, 'but I've never met a man yet that I can't take, and I'm not going to start admitting defeat now.' 'Firstly though, we're going to have to take special precautions. If you force that inside me, you'll split me in half, and I can assure you, I don't want to have that done more than once in a lifetime.' I sat astride his chest, pinning him to the bed, and dangled my breasts either side of his face. Whilst he sucked on alternate nipples, something which very quickly started to drive me wild, I picked up my dress from the floor and withdrew the cord from it. 'I think a bit of control is needed here,' I said. 'Mmmm,' he replied from somewhere underneath my tits. I really mourn the passing of beds with brass bed knobs. They are simply so useful. I slipped the cord around the nearest bed knob, made a slip loop in the end and passed it over his wrist. Before he'd worked out what I was up to, I'd pulled hard on the other end, made another slip loop and it went over his other wrist. Take up the slack by slipping it over the other bed post, and there he was, nicely trussed, and ready for plucking at my own speed. 'Oh, Eric, we're going to have some fun tonight.' Alternatively, I thought, I could just go home and leave him here. I reversed my position so that my face was just inches away from that monster, and my pussy was over his face. Then I squatted right down on his mouth. Just as his tongue was cautiously slipping inside, I suddenly remembered about the zip fasteners for the skin. They were pushed inside my vagina. He'd feel them with his tongue and realise something was seriously wrong. It was one thing dressing as a woman in a pub ? quite another to get into bed with a man who thinks you're a woman. If Eric found me out now, it would destroy him for ever. But before I could pull myself away, his tongue touched my clitoris. From that moment on, there was no way I could have got off him. My orgasm started, and he kept me there for what seemed like hours. I screamed and screamed, and wriggled and twisted, and still he tongued me. At some stage in the next half hour, a rather remarkable thing happened. I can only explain it by telling you about a scientist called Pavlov, who rang a bell every time he fed his dogs. After a while, he only had to ring the bell for the dogs to salivate. Well, here I am, having one fantastic orgasm after another ? I'm virtually passing out with each one, and as I come to, there's this monster cock right in front of my eyes. And just like the dogs salivating at the bell, I slowly realise it's not horrible at all ? it is one absolutely gorgeous cock. Extremely ugly and evil looking, but astonishingly beautiful at the same time. A wonderful, magnificent, exquisite, monster cock. Now you may sometimes have detected in me a certain reluctance to have sexual intercourse with a man, but at that moment I knew that nothing was going to stop me getting that cock inside me. If my pussy wasn't big enough, I'd get it up my arse, even if it wouldn't hold shit for a week. It was that determination which at last gave me the will to lift my pussy away from Eric's lips. I turned round and plonked my lips on his, and deep tongued him. I could taste my own pussy in his mouth. 'Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Eric. That was wonderful. Now, where did you put that condom? I can't wait another minute to get you inside me.' But I had to, for he hadn't brought the condom in with him, and since I wasn't going to release him from his bindings, I had to go searching for it amongst all the junk in his room. Actually, that wasn't a bad thing, because when I got back, he looked slightly less likely to explode, as I rolled the condom over his dick. Now, I had the real challenge. How did I get that monster inside me. There was no doubt in my mind which orifice I was going to attempt first ? every bit of Marion's skin had worked perfectly in transforming me from man to woman ? it wasn't going to let me down now. Just getting my body into position was a major challenge. I mean, when you've got a prick you just aim and go. Now, I had to manipulate my body so that my pussy was in bending distance of his prick. I tried kneeling astride him and moving backward, but his cock hung over the top of my bum like a crane, so I had get off my knees and onto all fours with my bum sticking up in the air, and wriggle about until we connected. Connected is not quite the right word. Touched in the right place is probably more accurate. I could feel my pussy opening up as wide as it could to accommodate him, but his knob was just too big. I worked my groin from side to side, and backwards and forwards, trying to lever him in a bit at a time. I was using both hands to try and help him in, when he uttered those dreadful words. 'I think I'm going to come.' His words lent desperation to my task. No you're bloody not! I bent my knees to lift my feet clear of the bed, so my whole weight was supported only by his prick forcing against my pussy entrance. It was no contest. I screamed as the monster split me apart. But once he'd got through the entrance, it wasn't too bad. In fact, it was rather nice. I stopped screaming and concentrated on the task in hand. 'I'm really coming? ugh' Eric's words turned to a yelp as I squeezed my pussy muscles with all my might. I could crack walnuts with those muscles, and even that monster cock was no match for me. He didn't come ? not then, anyway. We fucked like rabbits for hours, and although I came time after time, I never once lost self-control. I always kept my grip on him, squeezing hard most of the time, just to ensure his cock knew it had met its match, then squeezing like buggery when I saw the glint in his eyes. It took me ages to co-ordinate the finale, so that we both climaxed together. First he'd start approaching an orgasm when I wasn't quite ready, then the opposite way round. Finally, I could sense myself starting to go, and I put some extra thrusts on his cock, and I could feel him responding. Suddenly he was grunting, and with a sudden thrust, was arching his back, and lifting me completely off the bed and tossing me in the air, but never so high that I came off the end of that monster cock. The third time he did that I landed just as he was taking off and his cock exploded. I could feel the hot semen squirt into me like a high pressure jet wash. Then I was away again, being bounced around on that bucking bronco, and barely conscious enough to hold on, but conscious enough to feel spurt after spurt fill up my pussy to bursting. Finally, we lay together, gasping for breath and the sweat pouring off us. I looked up at him and smiled. 'Was that good?' 'Oh, it was fucking marvellous.' That was the first time I'd ever heard Eric swear. A minute later, it was me swearing as I pulled myself off his penis, and stood up. 'The fucking condom's burst. I'm absolutely drenched in cum.' Great gobs of it were dribbling down my leg. I used my hand to scrape as much up as I could before it went over the carpet. It filled my palm, and started to ooze between my fingers and then overflow down my wrist. I licked the flow down my wrist to stop the inexorable surge towards the carpet. Then, because you can't take one bit of semen without taking the lot, I moved my hand to my mouth and let it pour in. What had I just done? That was disgusting! My tongue flicked around my mouth, finding little bits still stuck between my teeth, which I greedily swallowed. Well, disgustingly good, actually. Like thick soup made from the finest blend of Scotch whiskies. My hand moved back to my thighs, and gathered another great dollop. Meanwhile, Eric was looking incredibly guilty over the condom. 'Sorry, I guess I should have thrown it away a couple of years ago, when it passed the expiry date.' It took me several seconds to swallow the next load, since one bit got wrapped around my teeth and wouldn't let go. After drinking his cum, I couldn't really be angry with him, but I needed to make the point. 'You pillock. What happens if I have a baby?' With my body system, it would have been a miracle, and with our combined sexual history, almost as little chance of passing on something nasty, but he wasn't to know that. He smiled and said, 'You'd have to marry me.' Too late, I realised he hadn't agreed to my condition about a one-night- stand! ****************************** I knew when I got back to my flat that I should take off the skin, clean it and oil it, but to be honest, I was too fucked. I still had a big grin on my face, and I felt like a million dollars. Until that evening, I'd always felt a little sorry for women. I thought that not being able to ejaculate through a penis meant the orgasm couldn't be as good. Well, the orgasms I had that night had been better than any I'd ever experienced, but much more significant was the number of them. With a man, it's three spurts and you're finished for the evening, although Gary and Nick were always telling otherwise. Since taking on Marion's skin, I'd been having fantastic orgasms continually for about three hours, and it was fucking great. I wasn't going to spoil the mood now ? the skin would have to wait until the morning. I tried really hard to take it off, next morning. I ran the shower, then slipped my hand inside my pussy to find the zip pulls, to release the legs They certainly weren't in the position where I'd put them yesterday evening, but then Eric's monster cock had probably pushed them right inside. I felt a little deeper, and moved my hand to try to locate them. That's when I touched my clitoris, and I gasped with pleasure again, all the memories of last night re-emerging. I knew I really shouldn't touch myself there again, but I thought just one more little touch? ****************** The post was waiting on my doormat by the time I eventually got showered and dressed ? I'd abandoned the shift and slipped on a pair of Rick's (I mean my) jeans and a tee shirt. I certainly hoped that Jed would send my clothes over soon. The letter was addressed in Jed's handwriting to Rick. I didn't think Rick would mind, so I opened it and read the letter. Why do I keep talking as though I'm not really Rick? Dear Rick I guess by now you'll have realised that I was not as open with you about Marion's skin as I might have been. However, every word I spoke was the truth, especially when I said she had eternal life ? it's just that she needs a host body in which to live. No doubt she's already making herself at home in yours, and I'm certain she's making you feel good about it, for she always believes in paying for her accommodation. Quite honestly, I've enjoyed every single minute of the last fifty years, and there can't be many people who can say that. We had such fun together, and I experienced a million things I would never would have, without her. Of course, she has the luck of the devil. Real witches always do ? it was the unfortunate women who weren't witches who got burnt at the stake. I know you felt she wasn't too lucky in being executed, but she saw it as nothing more than a short, sharp pain in exchange for everlasting life ? can't be a bad deal. Since you're sharing your body with Marion, you'll benefit as well. You'll never have a days illness, and you'll barely age ? as you noticed when you looked at me. Now, on to a few domestic matters. Marion doesn't mind you taking time off when you want it, and it's sometimes necessary to revert to do things like buy houses or see the taxman. But I always found that going back to normal life was so incredibly boring, I couldn't wait to get back inside Marion. Oh, if only I was there now! I realised as soon as I saw your flat you weren't going to have room for all of Marion's clothes ? she's built up a tremendous number over her lifetime ? you should just see the number of shoes she has! I suggest you both come over here on Sunday and sort out the things you'll need straightaway, and I'll hang on to the rest until you've bought your new house. Naturally, you're going to have to buy quite a large mansion to keep Marion in the style to which she's become accustomed. You'll probably need some cash. The easiest way to get money nowadays is to buy a lottery ticket. As I said, she has the luck of the devil and I think you will find that this week just happens to be a rollover jackpot week. That should keep you going for a bit. With the increasing bureaucracy over the last fifty years, it's become almost essential to have boring things like birth certificates and driving licences, so I've enclosed Marion's latest set. (Obviously, since she is perpetually twenty-five years old, they become a bit dated after a while.) I make a point of getting a new birth certificate at least every ten years. You can always find a gypsy woman (sorry, I mean traveller) with a new born baby who, for a small consideration, will be only too happy to register her child twice, under an additional name of your choice. Sorry about the name on this one. She couldn't read my writing properly when she went to the registrar. Still, when you get the next one, you can change it to something of your choice ? Marion always seems quite relaxed about her name. I don't need to wish you good luck, as you have that anyway, but very best wishes, and come and see me often. Jed I examined the set of documents. They were all in the name of Marianne Nettes. Well, as a name, it was as good as Marion Nettles. I reckoned I'd get used to it. **************** Marion let me out of the skin in the late afternoon, so I could go out and buy a lottery ticket. The phone was ringing as I returned to the flat. It was my sister, Maggie. 'Hi, Rick. How are you?' She sounded buoyant. I was pleased because things hadn't gone too well for her since that shit of a husband left her, and she'd taken to alcohol. Too late, I remembered that I said I'd go over to her dress rehearsal, the previous evening. 'You sound good. Sorry I didn't get over last night. Something er? turned up.' 'That's OK. It was nice of you to send your friend instead.' Friend? She laughed. 'I think Eric must have sat right at the back and been too shy to introduce himself last night, so I didn't see him and I thought you'd stood me up. Anyway, he made up for it this lunchtime, by coming over with a huge bunch of roses, and telling me how fantastic I'd been last night.' 'He did?' Eric must have been blind not to notice the difference between the voluptuous Marion and my skinny sister. 'It was such a huge bunch of flowers; he had to help me carry them back to my dressing room. Then? well, I'm not quite certain how it happened, but one minute I was smelling the flowers and thinking how nice they were, the next, we were on the dressing room floor, banging away like rabbits.' 'God!' 'That first bonk; I was still in my costume, and corsets and everything. You just wouldn't believe the size of him. Fortunately, he had a pack of giant sized, extra-strong condoms, so at the end of round one I managed to take the costume off and hang it up properly without getting semen all over it.' Maggie had always been totally uninhibited about revealing intimate details of her sex life. 'Actually, there was a nasty moment when I took off my padded corset and my giant padded bra, and he saw my pair of 34A breasts underneath. He looked so gob-smacked that I hadn't got huge tits. Anyway, I jumped straight back on top of him and we had another couple of rounds of fantastic sex after that, before I had to get back to rehearsals. Missed lunch, of course, but Eric's making up for it by taking me out to dinner tonight.' 'Well, what a dark horse, Eric is.' 'Are you sure you didn't put him up to it?' I smiled over the phone. 'It sounds like he must really have fallen for you. If you knew Eric, you'd realise there was just no way he could be put up to doing something so totally out of character as that.' Well, there was one way, but I wasn't telling. 'Hmm,' she said.