The Landlady free porn video

THE LANDLADY by BobH (c) 2011 -1- "How do I look?" I asked Cate. "You look just fine," she replied. "Honestly, Mike, I don't know why you're fretting so much." "Hey, it's not every day a guy gets to meet his girlfriend's Dad and I want to make a good first impression." "I'm sure he'll love you as much as I do," she said, coming over and adjusting my tie before leaning in and stealing a brief kiss. "Not in the same way, I hope," I said grinning. She gave my shoulder a playful thump, then returned to her dressing table and picked up her lipstick. This was the final piece of her make-up, and as soon as it was applied she subjected her reflection to a critical onceover before giving a little nod of satisfaction. And why wouldn't she? She was beautiful. Hell, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall and statuesque, her magnificent body with its small high breasts, amazing legs, and flawless skin was still as sleek and toned as it had been when she was an athlete, and that perfect face of hers was framed by a thick, lustrous mane of golden hair. Small wonder she'd been snapped up by a top modelling agency as soon as she quit athletics. She was still only eighteen years old - for another week or so, anyway - so while these were still early days I was sure she was going to be huge. By contrast, I was already twenty and not even sure yet what I wanted to do with my life. This was my gap year, time off before I headed for college and a philosophy course (chosen because I couldn't think of anything more sensible I might study), and I'd decided to use it to see if I could make it as an actor and a model. Which hadn't really worked out. I'd been a body-builder for several years and had developed big, well-defined muscles. Unfortunately, we were in one of those phases in the fashion industry where the preference was for slender, androgynous-looking male models. Cate had managed to get me a few gigs through her agency, and those let me make some contribution to our household expenses, but it wasn't any basis for a career. Then there was the acting. Despite blowing my savings on acting lessons I still projected all the emotional range of a tailor's dummy. I thought of myself as a funny, passionate guy, but put me on a stage and I turned to wood. The contrast with Cate could not have been greater. "You ready yet?" I called out to Cate. "In a minute," she replied. "I just need to fix my hair." So that was another fifteen minutes then. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and took out the small jewellery box I was keeping there. Flipping it open I smiled at the antique locket within. Kate loved antique jewellery so I knew this was the perfect birthday present for her. I was really looking forward to seeing the look on her face when I gave it to her. Wandering through to the lounge, I stared out of the bay window at the park across the road. Glancing to my left I saw our elderly landlady Mrs Ellaby in the bay window of her own flat, cleaning the glass. She spotted me, smiled, and gave a little wave, which I returned. Our flat was one of four in a large, somewhat shabby old Victorian house. There were two on the ground floor and two on the floor above. These were larger because the stair rose up beneath the lounges to the small central landing and so they shared a common wall - as did the bedrooms. The door off the landing led to a short hall with doors off it to the bedroom, lounge, kitchen, and bathroom/WC. We occupied one of the upstairs flats, and Mrs Ellaby the other. "How about now?" I called out to Cate again. "I said in a minute," she replied. "Honestly, men!" Eventually Cate appeared, looking amazing as always. I would never tell her this, but it had definitely been worth the wait. "OK, I'm ready," she said. Our local London Underground station was on the next street over from ours and so only a hundred yards or so from our front door. From here we caught a Tube into the centre of town and made our way across to where we were meeting Cate's dad. When he saw us he got up and gave Cate a big hug, before kissing her on the forehead. We were eating a light meal and sharing a bottle of wine at a sea-food restaurant in Covent Garden. We sat at one of the outside tables so that Cate could smoke afterwards and made small talk over our Dover Sole. Mr Hunter asked me about my family so I told him about Mum, Dad and my brother Gary and how we were a pretty ordinary lot, really. Mum and Dad ran a small newsagent's shop while Gary, who was two years older than me, was a junior accountant. He'd got married last year to Tanya, his high school sweetheart, and in fact Cate and I were having them over for dinner tomorrow night. He also asked me about my bandaged left hand. "Oh, I did that slicing an orange for Mrs Ellaby," I said. "The knife somehow slipped and I gashed my palm fairly badly. There was blood everywhere and I needed several stitches." "Mrs Ellaby?" "She's our landlady and my acting teacher," said Cate. "You'd like her, Daddy - everyone does." "Is she the one that got you the audition for 'Romeo and Juliet'? You were amazing in that." "You were in the audience?" "I was. That's when I saw you were serious about this acting lark and realized just how talented you are. I only wish I could've talked your mother into coming to see it with me." After moving to London, Cate managed to scrape together enough credits to qualify for an Equity card - and then landed the lead role in a production of 'Romeo and Juliet'. That was quite a leap, and all thanks to Mrs Ellaby. She had been an actress in her younger days and so still had contacts in the industry. She'd been giving Cate acting lessons and, impressed by what she'd seen, phoned the director Freddy Ferris and told him that though untrained Cate was the best natural actress she had ever seen. That was enough to secure Cate an audition, and at the audition she just blew them all away and got the part. I happened to catch that play. It was the first time I ever laid eyes on Cate and I was dazzled by her. She was totally mesmerising in the role. I didn't see her again until she walked into the gym several weeks later. We've been together ever since. I don't know whether I'll ever make it, but Cate will. In both acting and modelling she's about to go through the stratosphere. And even if I only get to ride her coat-tails then so be it. I'm in this for the duration. "I've got some pretty big news, Daddy," said Cate. "Oh yes? And what would that be, sweetheart?" "I did a shoot for Godiva Cosmetics yesterday. In a few weeks you're going to be seeing me pouting down at you from billboards across London. And if the campaign is as successful as they hope it will be, they'll make me the new 'face' of Godiva Cosmetics, which will mean I'll be earning serious money." "That's wonderful news!" Which it was. I might be biased, but I thought Cate's appointment was in the bag. Who wouldn't want her as the face of their company, after all? Mr Hunter's real interrogation began after we'd finished eating. Cate took out a cigarette and was surprised when her father produced a lighter, a vintage gold Dunhill. "Here, Catie, let me," he said. Cate leaned in to take the light, took a deep drag, then exhaled with a smile. "Thanks," she said, clearly pleased. The significance of the moment had not been lost on me. The Hunters had both been athletes in their youth - they met while representing Britain at the Commonwealth Games - and they had expected their only child to follow in their footsteps. For ten years from age eight to eighteen Cate had done just that, putting in long hours training over and above her school work. Then she had rebelled. Turns out she had a dream of her own and it wasn't the same as their dream for her. Cate's dream was to be a model and an actress, and her beauty certainly gave her a head start in that aim. Within a few days of her eighteenth birthday she moved out of the family home in Surrey to be in London, closer to where the action was. She was free of parental constraints for the first time in her life and, predictably, she went a little wild, partying to all hours and discovering the joy of sex. Her parents were particularly horrified when she started smoking and drinking. "I took to cigarettes like a duck takes to water," she once explained to me, "I was like 'Baby, where have you *been* all my life?!'." That was why Mr Hunter lighting his daughter's cigarette was so significant. It meant acceptance. "I didn't know you owned a lighter," said Cate. "It was my mother's," he said, pushing it across the table to her, "and I think she'd have wanted you to have it." "I...wow! Thank you." Cate picked it up and turned it in her hand almost reverently before placing it on the table in front of her. Her eyes were glistening, and I knew why. She never knew her grandparents. They all died before she was born and she had never owned anything they had touched. Until now. "Right," said Mr Hunter, clearing his throat, "and now we come to you, young man. How did you and my daughter meet?" "We met at the gym...." I began. Before I could continue he turned to Cate and said: "You still work out?" "Of course I do," she said, sounding exasperated. "Just because I discovered the pleasures of smoking and drinking doesn't mean I'm going to let my body go to pot. I still exercise every day. I just don't follow the insane programme you and Mum had me on." "On the other side of the road from our flat, tucked between the road and the cemetery, there's a small park," I said. "Cate and I run laps there for a half hour every morning before breakfast." "That's good," said Mr Hunter, approvingly. "It's so easy to let your fitness slip away, and so hard to get it back." "Mike thinks that Fate brought us together," said Cate. "He's a big believer in Destiny." "Really?" said Mr Hunter. "So you don't believe we have free will?" "On the small, day-to-day things yes, of course we do, but when it comes to the big stuff I think the course of our lives is already mapped out for us. That's why sometimes you meet a new person and you know, right from the start, that meeting them is going to change your life forever. I think it also explains love at first sight. I felt both those things when Cate walked into the gym that day." Cate put her hand over mine and gave me a little smile, but her father didn't look entirely convinced. That was OK; I knew most people didn't feel the way I did about this stuff. "So how long have you known each other?" "Two months," I said. "I moved in with Cate a month ago." "Only two months? And you're already living together? Isn't that a little sudden?" "Oh, don't be such a prude, Daddy," said Cate. "It doesn't take long to know whether or not you've met the right person, and if you have why wait?" "You're still awfully young, Catie," he said, "maybe too young to be able to know something like that yet. Are you *sure* he's the one?" "I'm sure," she said giving me a dazzling, heart-melting smile. "I'm sure, too, Mr Hunter," I said. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Nothing matters more to me than making your daughter happy." It was true. I was completely smitten with Cate, and would do absolutely anything for her. Things went pretty swimmingly after that. We shared another bottle of wine, Cate smoked another couple of cigarettes, and after saying goodbye to her father, she and I took the Tube and arrived home more than a little tipsy. Mrs Ellaby was waiting for us on the landing outside our flats when we got in. "Hello, dearies," she said. "You both look like you could use a nice cup of your favourite herbal tea." "We certainly could," said Cate. "Thank you, Mrs Ellaby." Her herbal tea was amazingly good. Mrs Ellaby was a friendly old dear, fussing over us like a mother hen, and we took tea with her most days. Her longtime companion had passed away a year ago after a long illness and she was obviously lonely now so taking half an hour out of our day to have tea with her was the least we could do. Plus it was really good tea. There was a small framed photo of Mrs Ellaby and her friend on her mantle. I'd questioned Cate about them soon after moving in with her. "What was she like?" I'd asked. "Beats me," said Cate. "She died a few months before I moved in, back when I was still living with my parents. Her name was Mary something, I think." "So she and Mrs Ellaby shared a flat for twenty years. Just friends, d'you think, or something more?" "How should I know? I'm hardly going to ask Mrs Ellaby if they were lesbian lovers, am I? And anyway, she's *Mrs* Ellaby. That implies there's a Mr Ellaby somewhere." While Mrs Ellaby busied herself preparing our tea, I looked around her flat with my usual interest and envy. She had some amazing souvenirs from her acting days, though the thing that usually drew my eyes was the large, framed poster that took up most of one wall. It was for the Hammer horror movie 'Frankenstein's Women'and was dominated by the actresses Oonagh Kennedy and Samantha Steele, with Peter Cushing in the background. Steele was very beautiful, all long blonde hair, perfect teeth, and heaving breasts. She'd appeared as one of the larcenous schoolgirls in 'The Great St.Trinians Train Robbery' and made a few more films, mostly for Hammer, but as she got older the roles dried up. That was the way it was back then for women in the industry - still is, in many ways. As soon as the bloom is off the rose, the rose gets discarded. "I had a small part in that film," said Mrs Ellaby, arriving with a tray of teas as I was examining the poster. "I wasn't pretty enough to play one of the beauties, so they cast me as poor Samantha's plain-faced best friend. She dreamed of being a Bond girl, but I always wanted to be James Bond. Playing the girl-friend never appealed to me." "Why 'poor Samantha'?" I asked. "Because her business manager swindled her out of most of the money she made from her films, and she really didn't handle the fading of her looks very well." "What happened to her?" I asked. "I'm not sure. I heard she spent some years travelling the world, but what happened to her after that is anybody's guess." She put the tray down on the table and Cate and I reached eagerly for our mugs of tea. And they were our mugs. Mrs Ellaby had ordered three mugs with our names on - Michael, Caetlyn, and Mildred. That seemed a little over the top to me, but hey, it was her money. As I drank my tea - guzzled it, actually - I happened to glance up and caught Mrs Ellaby looking me up and down approvingly. She was almost licking her lips. I shuddered. I'd caught her looking at me like that before, and it made me uncomfortable. Just the idea of old people having sex really squicked me so the thought of an old woman having sexual feelings for me - no bloody thank you. "So," said Cate, who had not seen any of this, "what's the latest on you and the Colonel? Has he asked you out again yet?" Colonel Henry Pottingham lived in the ground floor flat beneath ours, the one beneath Mrs Ellaby being occupied by an ever changing stream of students. An ex-army man and a widower, the Colonel was silver-haired and distinguished, with a small neatly-trimmed moustache and stiff military bearing. And he had taken a shine to our landlady. "No, not yet, but the next time he does I'm going to say yes. I've played hard to get for long enough. But he's not getting into my knickers until our third date." I almost did a spit-take at this, but I managed to hide it and to suppress a shudder so that no one noticed my reaction. Or so I thought. "Michael!" said Cate, when we returned to our flat, "I hope Mrs Ellaby didn't see how you reacted to her plans for the Colonel. What were you thinking?" "You know what I think about old-people sex," I said, sheepishly, "it's gross!" "Yes, well, if we're lucky enough to live that long we'll all be having old-people sex eventually," said Cate. "I bet it won't seem so gross then." "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," I replied, "many, many years from now." That was when she got that look in her eye, the one she gets when she's just made up her mind about something. "I'm going to help get them together," she announced. "Oh Cate, why would you want to get involved in this?" "Because I like Mrs Ellaby. You can tell she's lonely and hungry for company. Bingo night once a week with her friends obviously isn't enough. Remember how she used to quiz you about your life when we first started dropping in for tea with her every day?" "Boy, do I ever! I think I must have told her every single thing I remember from when I was a toddler right up to today. She had a real knack for getting me to talk about things I'd never shared with anyone before. And she insisted on telling me all about her life, too." Some of Mrs Ellaby's stories were interesting, but I used to zone out when she started filling me in about her history with various neighbours, shopkeepers, and the like. Yet weirdly, despite not consciously paying attention to that stuff, I always remembered what she told me. And I still do. Every word. By this point, I was pretty much an expert on her life, just like she must be on mine. "A little romance and, yes, 'old people sex' is just what Mrs Ellaby needs in her life right now," said Cate, "and I'm going to do what I can to see she gets it." "OK," I said, "I know better than to argue with you when you've decided to take on a new project. In the meantime, what about some hot young people sex?" -2- Perhaps it was some lingering effect of all the wine we drank, but I felt weird. Sex with Cate had been as enjoyable as ever but it had seemed as if I wasn't quite one hundred percent there. It was almost as if some intangible part of me had gone missing, something I could not have named but without which I wasn't entirely me. I lay in bed long after Cate had taken off for a job that would keep her busy 'til evening, but eventually I got up and half-heartedly tossed on some clothes, intending to head out. I opened our front door to see the Colonel on the landing outside Mrs Ellaby's flat. "I say, you haven't seen Mildred, have you? There's something I wanted to ask her, but there's no reply." "She's probably gone out shopping," I said. "If I see her should I tell her you're looking for her?" "Best not," he said, "don't want to look too eager, eh?" "No, I suppose not," I said I smiled, then headed downstairs. The Colonel was a pleasant enough old duffer, if a bit stuffy and old-fashioned, but I didn't feel like getting trapped making small talk. At the bottom of the stairs I had to stop to catch my breath. It was taking me more effort to move about than it should and my body still felt weirdly 'off', like a suit that was too big for me. My head seemed to be full of cotton wool so I shook it vigorously, trying to clear my mind. That improved things somewhat, but I was still feeling a bit woozy, a bit disconnected from things. I headed over to the park, figuring that a walk might help. The park was very small and though fine for running laps it was a bit limited for recreational walking, so I headed on into the cemetery. I'd been walking for a few minutes, with no particular destination in mind when I spied a familiar figure kneeling in front of one of the gravestones. Not wanting to intrude I made to turn away when, at that moment, Mrs Ellaby turned and saw me. She beckoned me over. Unable to think of a polite way of extricating myself, I headed over to her. She was tending the grass around the grave and had placed fresh flowers on it. "Help me up, would you please, dear?" she asked. "Only when you're my age getting up from your knees is no picnic, as you'll discover for yourself one day." I did as she asked then handed her her cane, which had been leaning against the gravestone. That's when I saw the name. "Mary Crawley," I said. "Is that....." "My Mary. Yes, yes it is. We were childhood friends, you know, though we lost touch later. But for the last twenty years she was my life and I miss being with her terribly." "So you and she were....?" "Lovers, yes...eventually. We hadn't been when we were younger, but when we found each other again later in life it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Does that shock you?" "No, but it surprises me," I said. "I kind of assumed you were a widow." "Because I'm *Mrs* Ellaby? No, no, that was the result of an ill-considered liaison forty years ago. Biggest mistake of my life. But I kept his name. Only thing he gave me that was worth a damn. It was Mary who was the love of my life. She's gone now but, praise God, I've found someone to take her place." "The Colonel," I said, nodding, "he seems like a nice man." "What? Oh, yes, right, the Colonel, of course the Colonel. So you think he's a nice man, do you?" "I do," I said, deciding to help his chances with Mrs Ellaby by talking him up, "he's always well turned out and he's quite handsome, too. A woman could do a lot worse than him." "Oh, I'm so glad you feel that way," she said. "You and Henry will probably be getting a lot better acquainted soon so it's good that you think so highly of him." OK, not the response I was expecting and a bit of an odd thing to say, but I let it go. "You and Cate seem happy together," she said. "We are," I replied. "Good. You should enjoy these times while you can, Michael. You're young now, but your youth will be gone before you know it. "We are enjoying them," I said. "Cate and I make each other very happy." "Such a pretty girl, just totally exquisite. And I've got a feeling that soon she's going to be even happier with you." Again another odd thing to say, and again I let it go. "Can I escort you back to the house?" I said, offering her my arm. "'Course you can, dear," she said, taking it. We walked back slowly and in silence. I glanced down at her occasionally, but said nothing. Mrs Ellaby was a short woman, maybe five-two, her permed grey hair stopping just above her collar and her rheumy eyes framed by those old-fashioned winged spectacles. She was a bit stocky, with no waist to speak of but a substantial arse. Her face was thin, wrinkled. and a little jowly, while her hands were kind of claw-like as a result of her arthritis. She was wearing a plain, mid-length coat, had a little hat perched atop that gray hair, a string of pearls around her neck, pearl button earrings, and was using no make-up that I could see. Thick grey panty-hose and opened-toed shoes with wide one inch heels completed her outfit. When we got back to the house it took a lot of effort for me to climb the stairs, more than it did for Mrs Ellaby in fact, who by comparison looked quite spry tackling them. By the time I reached the landing I had to lean against the bannister to catch my breath, my head spinning. "Are you alright, dear?" said Mrs Ellaby, looking concerned. "I think I'm coming down with some sort of bug," I said, "and I feel really peculiar." "Come into my flat," she said, opening her door and removing her coat. "I think I have just the thing to perk you up. Now sit yourself down, I'll just be a minute or two." I sank down on her sofa gratefully, glad to get the weight off my feet. I couldn't believe how weary I felt. In the few minutes it took Mrs Ellaby to make us each a mug of her herbal tea I almost nodded off. "My, you are in a bad way." I glanced up and for some reason was captivated by the floral pattern on her dress. Like a lot of old ladies, she favoured those waistless dresses, the ones that are collarless and drop straight down from the shoulder, stopping a few inches below the knee. She laid the tray down on the coffee table and passed me my mug. I took it gratefully and sipped deeply, knowing from experience how envigorating her tea was. Almost immediately I began to feel better. "Thanks," I said. "You're a lifesaver." "My pleasure," she said. We drank our teas in silence and, when we were done, she went into her kitchen and returned with a thermos flask. "I've filled this with my herbal tea," she said. "The best thing you can do is drink it all down before you retire tonight, every last drop. Will you promise me that, Michael?" "I promise," I said, amused by how she was fussing over me, "every last drop." And I did too, every last drop, but it didn't really help. Oh, it envigorated me at first but when the effect wore off I could barely move. I slumped down on the sofa and lay there, unmoving, until Cate got home late that evening. When she saw me she rushed to my side, concern etched on her face. " 'M okay," I said. "It's jus a l'il twenty four hour bug. Jus' need to sleep it off." "Well...if you say so, I guess," she said, not sounding completely mollified. "But if you're still like this in the morning I'm calling the doctor. I'll be getting up really early to prepare the food for our dinner party tomorrow and to get it cooking away in the slow cooker. Then, when I get back from my morning run, we'll see how you are. "Works for me," I said, with enormous effort. Cate put a blanket over me, kissed me tenderly, then headed for our bedroom. "Goodnight, sweetie," she said, before turning out the light. I didn't have the energy to reply. -3- I was awoken the next morning by the sound of Cate going out. With a sigh, I got up and padded through to the kitchen. I felt better than I had last night, but I still didn't feel right. Everything was still taking too much effort. In the kitchen I could see that Cate had indeed set tonight's meal cooking in our two slow cookers, ready for when my brother Gary and his wife arrived. I'd been looking forward to this for weeks. I only hoped I'd be well enough by tonight to enjoy it. In the draining rack next to the sink was Mrs Ellaby's thermos flask, which Cate had obviously washed out. Seeing it I felt an overwhelming urge - almost a compulsion - to return it immediately. I was still dressed in the clothes I'd been wearing yesterday and really needed a shower, but that wasn't enough to stop me. Grabbing the flask, I marched across the landing and rang Mrs Ellaby's doorbell. When she came to the door it was if she'd been expecting me. "Come in dear, come in," she said. "I've made us each a mug of my herbal tea and this time it's extra strong." That was all I needed to hear. Seeing the mugs on the table I didn't question why they should be there waiting for me, I just grabbed mine and chugged it right down. Mrs Ellaby did the same with her own. Gone were her usual lady-like sips, replaced by a great urgency to get the tea down her throat. I waited for the usual envigorating rush to hit me but it never came. Instead my knees buckled under me and I sat down hard on the sofa. "Are you feeling alright, Michael?" asked Mrs Ellaby, staring at me intensely from behind those winged spectacles of hers. "Not really," I said. "Everything is so hard. "Speaking, moving...it's all...taking enormous effort. Tea didn't...work..." "Then that means it's finally time," she said, getting to her feet and coming over to me. "Time?" I said, unable to offer any resistance, as she took hold of my shoulders, twisted me round, and pushed me down so that I was lying flat out on the sofa. "Yes, time," she said, smiling, "time for us to assume our proper places and to begin our new lives." She loosened my shirt collar, and stroked my hair. "Such a fine head of thick, dark hair," she said, approvingly. "I'm looking forward to not being grey anymore." I would have asked what she was talking about but even speech was now more effort than I could manage. "The thing about souls," she said, still stroking my hair and smiling down at me, "is that they're a perfect fit for the bodies they inhabit. So if you want to move a soul from one body to another you first have to reshape that soul until it becomes a better fit for the new body than it is for the original. That takes time and it takes blood, freely given. Making you slip with the knife and cut your hand involved a very minor spell and, of course, you happily gave me back the blood-soaked towel I wrapped around your hand before you went off to get stitches. I fed you my own blood in the potion I put in your tea, while using your blood in the potion I put in mine. Over time, bit by bit, your soul took on the shape of mine while mine took on the shape of yours so that as far as our bodies are concerned yours now contains the soul of Mildred Ellaby and mine contains the soul of Michael Campbell. Our souls are no longer a good fit for the bodies they inhabit, which is why you're having so much difficulty moving right now. Your soul is no longer capable of animating the body of a twenty year old man without enormous effort. It wants, it *needs* to be in this body, the body it now belongs in. And mine needs to be in that one." As the enormity of her words sank in I started to panic. I couldn't move, but Mrs Ellaby saw the fear in my eyes. "Oh, don't worry, dear," she said. "I guarantee it won't hurt - quite the opposite, in fact. It will feel like coming home. You'll be comfortable in this body, I promise you, more comfortable than you can now be in any other, because this is where you're meant to be, the only one that truly fits you anymore. I won't lie to you, becoming an old woman is going to be a shock at first and hard for you to get to grips with. The good news is that eventually it will come to seem totally normal and you'll forget what it ever felt like to be a young man. Right, time to pop our souls free from these bodies and into their rightful ones. It won't take much effort, and they'll slot right into place, easy as pie." With that she took a deep breath, pinched my nose shut with one hand, then opened my mouth with the other and clamped her mouth down over mine. She exhaled, forcing her breath into my lungs. I did not have the strength to resist her. Coming up for air, she took another deep breath before clamping her mouth over mine once more and forcing her breath into my lungs again. I could feel something coming loose inside me, not something physical but something spiritual, something that was the essence of everything I was, my soul. Mrs Ellaby repeated this a third time and then I felt it. It was, as she had said, just like something popping. I felt my soul finally come free from my body before flowing out of it past something coming the other way, something that looked like me, before I felt my soul 'popping' into place...somewhere else. I fell forward then, exhausted from my exertions, forward across a hard, muscular body. Then I lost consciousness. When I eventually came to I did so as someone waking from a dream, a terrible nightmare in which I had been tricked into swapping my body for that of an old woman. Only it wasn't a dream. I woke up feeling at once both peculiar and comfortable. I had aches and pains I'd never known before, and yet somehow I had. I looked down at my body, my eyes passing over the swell of my breasts beneath the floral-print dress, on past the bulge of my belly, to the thick grey panty-hose cladding my legs and stopping at my open-toed mules. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. Instead I raised a bony, liver-spot mottled hand to my face and felt that loose, wrinkled flesh, the permed, and brittle grey hair on my head, and the small earring in one ear. Horribly, none of this felt strange. It was both comfortable and familiar, like coming home, just as Mrs Ellaby had said it would be. Numbly, I shuffled over to the wall mirror and gazed into it, the small, aged form of Mrs Ellaby gazing back at me. She looked like she wanted to cry. "Michael!!" My name followed by a shriek of laughter from out on the landing broke me out of my trance and I flung open my front door. I needed, someone, anyone to help me, but the sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. On the landing were Cate, just returned from her morning run, and Mrs Ellaby who was wearing my body and who had obviously just come from the shower since all she was clad in was a small towel, wrapped around her - around *my* waist. They were locked in a passionate clinch, kissing deeply. At first they were oblivious to my presence, then Cate saw me and broke the kiss, disengaging from the embrace of those powerful arms. "Sorry," she said, looking sheepish. "We should've waited 'til I was inside, but Mike ambushed me on the landing. I was worried about his health before my run, but I guess I needn't worry about it any more." "Yeah, sorry Mrs Ellaby," the real Mrs Ellaby said, giving me a smirk that Cate couldn't see, "but we're young and sometimes we just get carried away." "Are you OK?" asked Cate, frowning. I was anything but OK but for some reason I couldn't say a word. I just stood there smiling slightly. Why I was smiling I didn't know. My face should have been registering my extreme distress, but it wasn't. "Go get dried and dressed, baby," she said. "I'm going to stay with Mrs Ellaby until you get back." I'd lost a foot in height, so where I'd been taller than Cate she was now taller than me. The change in perspective was vertiginous and I felt like if I fell over I'd never stop falling. Putting a gentle hand on my back, Cate steered me into Mrs Ellaby's flat, which was the last place I wanted to be. I wanted to be back in my own flat, back in my own body, and back with Cate, but I was beginning to fear that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "Sit yourself down and I'll make us both tea," she said, heading for the kitchen. Almost paralysed by the horror of what had been done to me, I sat down heavily in Mrs Ellaby's favourite chair, staring blankly at the wall. I barely noticed when Cate put a mug of tea down in front of me and seated herself in her usual spot on the sofa. However, when she started speaking something odd happened. "So what is it?" she said. "I can tell something is bothering you." She looked genuinely worried for me, concern written on her face, and I felt a sudden overwhelming need to reassure her. "Oh, it's nothing, honestly it isn't," I said, "I just had a 'senior moment' dear." "'Dear'? Why did I say dear? I hadn't meant to, but it just sort slipped out at the end. "That's a relief," said Cate, letting out a sigh. "You had me worried for a moment there." "I know and I'm sorry, dear," I said - again with the 'dear'! - "I just hope it doesn't happen again." "Well, so long as you're sure you're OK. That's all that really matters." "I'm back!" came a voice from the open front door. It was Mrs Ellaby. "That was quick," said Cate, getting to her feet. "Look, I'm pretty sweaty after my run and I need to shower. You can have my cup of tea if you want; I've barely touched it." "Sound's good to me," said Mrs Ellaby, giving Cate's arse a slap as she squeezed past. She then marched into the flat and dropped down on the sofa. She was wearing jeans, a classic pair of Air Jordans and a white T-shirt that stretched across her large pecs and showed off her muscular arms to impressive effect. She was grinning and staring at me with a kind of wonder. "Wow, it's so weird to be seeing that face and not be looking into a mirror," she said. "It's a whole new spin on the term 'out of body experience'. Not that I'm ever leaving my glorious new body, of course." She flexed a bicep, smiling at it appreciatively. "And what a body! Everything is so solid! And I love, love, love my tight little bum! My buttocks are so firm it feels like I could crack nuts between them if I wanted to. Mostly though I can't get over how powerful I feel. It's like I'd been ill for a very long time and now I've been restored to full health again. It's funny when you think about it. You were young and tall, a man who spent years building his body up until he was stronger and more imposing than most other people, yet all that work was ultimately in vain. For all your strength you couldn't stop me coming along, taking it all from you, and leaving you a small, elderly woman. You're now weaker, frailer, and less imposing than most people, and you always will be. You'd also won the heart of an exquisitely beautiful woman, yet now that heart belongs to me, and I took it from you effortlessly. Nor can you ever win it back. The best you can hope for now is to be is her elderly female confidant, a surrogate grandmother watching from the sidelines as Cate and I fall ever more deeply in love, and giving us your blessing because you know that's what she would want you to do." I wanted to scream and shout at her and to rail against what she had done to me, but that's not what I did. No, facing her like this I became icily calm. On the landing." I said, "you and Caetlyn..." "Yes," she said, cutting me off, "my drop dead gorgeous girlfriend Caetlyn. I'd been dreaming of kissing those luscious lips and fondling those pert little breasts for so long that when I opened the door and saw her standing there I'm afraid I just couldn't help myself. I suppose I should apologise and say I'm sorry you had to see that, but I'm not sorry at all. In fact you're likely to see us making out a lot more. But don't worry, you'll soon get used to it. Seeing it will be good for you. It will underline what you've lost and what you can never hope to get back. You're a sixty-seven year old woman now and the quicker you accept your altered status the sooner you'll be able to move on and find happiness in your new life." "That's not it," I said. "I wanted to know why I couldn't tell Cate what had happened, not even when I was alone with her in here." "Ah that," she said, absent-mindedly scratching her crotch. "That's because as well as switching us I put a geas on you. It won't let you give away that we're not who we've always been, either by word or by deed." "So that's why I couldn't scream when I woke up like this." "Correct. You can scream about something else but screaming about the switch is not allowed by the geas. It's interpreted as an attempt to reveal the switch." "Then that's also why I couldn't even let Cate know how distressed I was. Since the distress was a result of the switch the geas wouldn't let me show it on my face." "Also correct. And if, say, you tried dressing in a radically different manner in order to signal you were not the same person you had been that too would be a no-no. Basically, as long as you go with the flow and continue to be the Mrs Ellaby everyone knows you have complete freedom to do whatever you want. Try to deviate from that and the geas will stop you. It doesn't let you ever 'break character'." "Cate will realise you're not me," I said. "The interest you showed in my past was just you pumping me for information you needed for this masquerade, I see now that now, And you did something to make sure I'd remember everything you told me about your life for when it became my life. But as good an actress as you might be you're bound to slip up." "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "No one will ever suspect a thing. Regardless of how many slips I make it will never occur to anyone that I'm not you. They'll just think I'm being absent-minded. Even a drastic change in lifestyle wouldn't do it. People make those all the time. Think about the huge change Cate made in her life. Did anyone take that as evidence she'd been replaced by someone else? Of course they didn't, because that isn't something that happens in the real world. The whole idea is ridiculous. If you did find a way of breaking the geas and tried to tell the authorities your body had been stolen they'd throw you in the looney bin before they believed you." My shoulders slumped. She was right. Expecting help to come from someone else was a fool's dream; it wasn't going to happen. The only one who had any chance of getting me out of this was me. "Michael Campbell will be making one big change in his life," Mrs Ellaby continued. "It's going to turn out that he wasn't totally useless as an actor after all. Quite the opposite in fact. His talent was just blocked by various psychological issues, and as soon as he finds the key to unlocking these he's going to blossom into one of the great talents of his generation. He'll finally be the partner Cate deserves and together there'll be nothing we can't accomplish. We're going to be the acting profession's new golden couple." She stood up and stretched, her muscles rippling beneath her T-shirt. "This has been a pleasant chat, but Cate will be climbing out of the shower soon and there's a part of my new body I'm just dying to try out. However, before I go there's something I need to do." Grinning, she headed for the kitchen. From behind some packets of breakfast cereal on one of the shelves she produced two vials of reddish fluid, one labelled with her name and one with mine. It was what remained of the potions she had been feeding us. "No point leaving these around to tempt you into trying something silly." Turning on the taps, she emptied the contents of the vials into the sink and watched in satisfaction as they swirled away. Washing out the vials, she then tossed them in the kitchen rubbish bin. "You still have the ingredients and the recipe to make that fine herbal tea," she said, "but not those for making the potion. You'd need my blood, freely given, and that's never going to happen." With that she turned on her heel and was gone from the flat before I could say another word. The geas would stop me crying in front of someone else, but I was alone now and the tears flowed. Sitting on the bed, I stared at the walls of what would now be my bedroom feeling utterly hopeless. I was completely screwed. The magnitude of what had happened to me was totally overwhelming. Before long I heard giggling and muffled squeals on the other side of the wall, soon followed by the rhythmic sound of bedsprings rocking. I knew what was happening and was both horrified and fascinated. It was Mrs Ellaby in my bed and in my body, making love to my girlfriend. True to her word she was trying out the body part she had never possessed before. Eventually, Cate screamed out as she always did when she climaxed. What would happen next was that they would kiss and cuddle for a bit, then Cate would smoke a post-coital cigarette. "Nothing beats a cigarette after sex," the actress Ali Larter once said. It was a sentiment Cate whole-heartedly agreed with. Depending on what tasks needed doing they would either stay in bed and make love some more, or get up and do whatever it was that needed doing. Since Cate had the evening meal simmering away in the slow cookers and had already bought in everything needed for the dinner party, they pretty much had the whole day to themselves until then. So, more love-making. I couldn't face listening to that again, not now, so I pulled myself to my feet using the bed head, picked up my cane and hobbled through to the bathroom. There was something I needed to do, and the sooner the better. In the bathroom was the medicine cabinet, inside which was a large array of medicines. Sighing I gathered them all up and carried them through to the lounge. Sitting in Mrs Ellaby's chair, I pushed aside the old newspapers on the coffee table, along with the ashtray Mrs Ellaby kept there for Cate, and laid out the various pills and lotions. I studied them all carefully, squinting at the prescription labels. Even with my glasses on it was hard to make out the small print. How did she ever read these? Then I spotted the magnifying glass on the small stool next to the chair and I had my answer. Now that I *was* Mrs Ellaby, in body at least, I needed to remain healthy if I was to have any chance of reversing this. That meant figuring out what medication she had been on and taking it as directed. Tallying the pills I needed to pop regularly made for a depressingly long list, but there was one thing I was eager to take right away. My arthritis was playing up, hence the hobbling, so I was only too happy to wash down some anti-inflammatories. In a pile on the other side of the chair were what turned out to be the grimoires and spellbooks Mrs Ellaby had used to concoct the potion that had reshaped our souls, along with her notebooks. She obviously thought I was too dumb to be able to make use of them or she would never have left them behind. Well I would prove her wrong. I was going to spend every spare minute poring over them. Somewhere in those volumes was the means for returning us to our original bodies, and I intended to find it. I picked up the first notepad and began to read. No time like the present to get started.... -4- I didn't hear the doorbell ring in the other flat, but I guessed it had when I heard their door open and someone trotting downstairs to let their visitors in. It had to be my brother Gary and his wife Tanya. I opened my door just as they arrived back on the landing. It was Mrs Ellaby who had answered the doorbell and all three of them turned to look at me. "Ah, Mrs Ellaby," said Mrs Ellaby, gesturing expansively, "this is my brother Gary and his wife Tanya." "Pleased to meet you," said Gary, coming over and shaking my hand. "Mikey here speaks very highly of you." I wanted to scream out that it was his brother whose hand he was shaking, that the person who had let him into the house was an imposter, but I couldn't. Instead I gave a little smile and thanked him. Polite pleasantries out of the way, they went into the other flat and I retired to Mrs Ellaby's. All I could hope for was that she would trip up in some way and that Gary would rumble her, but I was beginning to realize just how unlikely that was. Whenever we had guests over for a meal, Cate and I would open out our dining table and arrange it to take advantage of the bay window with Cate usually sitting at that end of the table. Which meant that when I looked across from the bay window of this flat a little later I had a side-on view of Cate, tucking into her signature goulash. I watched her wistfully for a few minutes, basking in her beauty. She was so near, yet so very far away from me. Not wanting to be caught staring at her, I stole only occasional glances throughout the meal. The final time I looked, Cate was enjoying an after-dinner cigarette and laughing uproariously at something. She had a surprisingly lustly laugh for a girl and I guessed that she was laughing at something Gary had said. My brother was a brilliant raconteur and I'm sure he could have been a successful stand-up if he'd wanted to be. When the evening was over and their visitors were leaving, I quietly opened my front door, just a crack, hoping no one would spot me and think I was being a nosey old lady. I was in time to see Cate gave Tanya a kiss and a hug, while Gary and Mrs Ellaby shook hands and patted each other on the back. I was hoping Gary would give some sign he'd spotted she wasn't me. Instead he said: "It was great seeing you bro, and finally meeting your lady. She's every bit as lovely as you said she was." "Thank you, Gary," said Cate kissing, him on the cheek. There was a little bit more of this, and then the goodbyes had all been said and Gary and Tanya had headed off down the stairs, having suspected nothing. I glanced up from them just in time to see the door opposite closing. Mrs Ellaby was smiling directly at me; she'd known I was watching the whole time. "Told you so," she silently mouthed, before their door closed. Defeated, I headed for the bedroom. I was desperately tired and I really needed to sleep, but this would also be the first time I'd undressed this body. I knew it was coming but I'd been desperately trying to put it off, because I knew that seeing myself naked for the first time was when it would truly hit me that this was real. I slowly undid the the buttons on the dress, pushed it off my shoulders and let it slide to the floor. Underneath I was wearing a slip, which I also shrugged off, let fall to the floor, and stepped out of. At this point I paused to study my reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door. I was wearing large, high-waisted white knickers that went up over my belly and helped hold it in, over which the gusset of my thick, grey panty-hose had been stretched. My bra was of some stiff white fabric and contained some serious underwires. I held an arm out to the side and pushed the aged flesh hanging down from my upper arm, setting it wobbling. Sighing, I reached around behind my back and fumbled with my bra until I undid the strap. Popping my breasts out of the cups so that I could slide the bra down my arms I was appalled by how low they hung. Were breasts ever supposed to reach down almost to your waist like that? Things didn't look any better when I removed my hose and knickers either. Both my belly and my buttocks were wrinkled and sagging. After my own firm, muscular young body this one was a real shock. It seemed to have no muscle tone at all. I don't know how long I stood staring numbly at my reflection, but what woke me from that state were the tears. I didn't even realise I was crying until the first tear rolled off my face and struck my right breast. That was such an odd sensation it shocked me out of my torpor. "Pull yourself together," I said, annoyed with myself. "You get out of this with determination and planning, not by feeling sorry for yourself." Donning Mrs Ellaby's thick flannel nightdress I climbed into her bed. I was barely able to keep my eyes open and should have fallen asleep immediately only that was when the sounds from their flat started up. They were having sex again. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't. I didn't get to sleep until a few hours later, when they finally stopped. At first the next morning I was in that fuzzy state you always are when you first wake up, when you're not quite fully there yet and, for a couple of moments I forgot I was now Mrs Ellaby. It only took my arm brushing my breast through the flannel nightgown for the memories and the awful reality to come rushing back. For a moment I felt like curling into a fetal ball and never leaving that bed, but only for a moment. Like it or not, I had to face my new reality and find a way of dealing with it. I opened my eyes and was puzzled by how blurry everything was until I remembered I wore glasses now. Sighing, I retrieved these from the bedside table and put them on. With some effort I got myself into a sitting position, slipped my feet into my floral pattern slippers with their fur trim, reached across for my cane, and stood up. Wow, my joints were stiff first thing in the morning. I hobbled across to the bathroom, hoping they would loosen up soon. I went through the motions mechanically, washing my face and brushing my teeth (at least I still had teeth), all the while studiously ignoring my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. I quite literally could not face myself. Urinating for the first time was a rite of passage I'd been dreading, but my bladder would not be denied. Hitching up my nightdress, I sat down on the toilet and took my first pee as a woman. I'd been avoiding facing the fact I didn't have a penis any more, but that was no longer possible. As odd as the sensations were as it came rushing out, wiping myself afterwards was when I almost lost it. My dick was gone, that all-important organ that is the ultimate proof of your manhood. And in its place, an....absence. I finished quickly, not able to bring myself to even look at what was down there let alone explore it. I had thought I was handling this monstrous situation as well as could be expected, but a large part of me was still in denial. Sighing, I eventually pulled myself together and wandered into the kitchen. Glancing at the wall clock I was surprised to discover how late it was. I had overslept. By now Cate and Mrs Ellaby would have already taken their morning run and gone out for the day. Feeling hungry, I decided to make a bowl of cereal and was annoyed to discover there was no milk in the fridge. Figuring Mrs Ellaby might have stored it somewhere else, I started checking in all the kitchen cupboards. Which is when I made my discovery. Under the sink was a cardboard box containing various jars and bottles, and at first my heart leapt when I realized this was Mrs Ellaby's store of ingredients for her sorcerous potions. Then a second realization: that, like her spellbooks and notes, she hadn't disposed of them because she didn't think I was capable of making use of them. Well, I'd show her! When you think of what a witch's stash would look like you probably imagine the ingredients for her potions are kept in ornate old pots and jars. These were stored in old jam jars and ketchup bottles, the name of the stuff inside scrawled on a strip of paper in ballpoint and then taped over the original label. Still, it was what was inside that counted. I inventoried the contents of that box and ticked them off against a checklist I'd found in the back of one of the notebooks. Everything on the checklist was in the box. Except for her blood and my blood. I had no idea how I was going to trick Mrs Ellaby into voluntarily giving me the blood I would need, but that was a problem for later. For now I needed to hit the books in order to gain at least a basic understanding of just what I would be required to do. I couldn't actually read the spellbooks directly since they were in no language I recognized, but here Mrs Ellaby's notes were extremely useful. She had figured out the correct way to pronounce the various words and written down phonetic versions of these, which had enabled the spells to be chanted correctly. So far so good. She had also figured out what the ingredients of the accompanying potions had to be and written down detailed instructions on how to prepare these. And boy, were they complicated! Not only did they need to be prepared during the correct phase of the moon but make even a slight mistake in preparing them and the potions would be useless. Which meant I would need to practice. First though, I was hungry and wanted breakfast. My eyes alighted on the keys hanging from the rack beside the door to the flat. "Why not?" I mumured, walking over and grabbing the one for the flat I shared with Cate. Mrs Ellaby was our landlady, so I should make use of that fact. Crossing the landing, I opened the door to our flat and smiled at the familiar sights within. I'd gone over for milk, but I found myself wandering through the flat, touching treasured knick-knacks and smiling at the framed photos. In the bedroom I sat down on the bed, picked up Cate's pillow, and buried my face in it, breathing in the smell of her. God it hurt having her so near yet being unable to hold her or to press my body against hers. Sighing, I put the pillow down and gazed wistfully at the weights on the floor on my side of the bed. I used to regularly train with those. Now I wouldn't even be able to lift the small barbell I used for working on my biceps. I'd smiled when I first entered the flat but I wasn't smiling now. Seeing what I could no longer have was starting to hurt. Quickly, I rose to my feet and headed for the kitchen, determined to grab the milk and be gone. Of course, when I opened the fridge I saw they were out of milk, too. Back in Mrs Ellaby's flat I looked out through the lounge window at the road below, fretting about what I needed to do now. I can't say I was looking forward to making my first foray onto the streets as Mrs Ellaby, but it was a bullet I was going to have to bite eventually and now was probably as good a time as any. Which meant I would have to get dressed, my first time doing so as a woman. In the bedroom I unbuttoned my flannel nightgown, shrugged it over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, I steeled myself and walked over to the full length mirror on the wardrobe door. Like it or not this was my body until I could get my real one back and I had to face up to that reality. Aged, wrinkled and saggy as I now was it was not a pretty sight, but I examined it in minute detail, turning this way and that, and exploring every nook and cranny up to and including my vagina. I had no idea how long I would have to stay in this body and I needed to overcome my revulsion if I was to stop myself from going mad. Putting on a bra was a relief for the support it provided, which was also true to an extent of the knickers and panty-hose. If I could have I'd have worn slacks, but all that was in Mrs Ellaby's closet were dresses. No trousers or skirts even, just dresses. Most had floral print patterns, but there were a couple of plain, dark ones, which were presumably for when she went to some evening event. I frowned as I contemplated them, feeling vaguely that something wasn't right here but not sure what it might be. Shaking my head and bowing to the inevitable, I selected one of the floral print dresses at random and put it on. Pulling on Mrs Ellaby's shoes and coat I grabbed her handbag and her cane and headed out. In my mind I was still a young man so I was slightly self-conscious walking along dressed as a woman despite now being one, but I got a swift lesson in how others saw me when a kid on a skateboard shot by on the pavement, narrowly missing me. "Watch where you're going, you old bat!" he yelled back at me. I flipped him the bird, much to the amusement of a couple of teenage girls coming in the other direction, who grinned approvingly. "Way to go, grandma!" one of them said as they passed me. Grandma. This time yesterday they'd have been delighted if I hit on them; now I was "grandma". Depressed, I made my way to the shops. Our local stores were on the same street as our Underground station, my gym, the bingo parlour (which, like many such places was in a former cinema), our local authority community centre, and the Beeton Hall Studios. Conveniently, Cate's model agency often hired the studios for their shoots which meant on those occasions she could walk to work. Arriving at the grocery store, I caught sight of my reflection and was surprised to see I was wearing a headscarf. I had no memory of putting it on, yet clearly I must have. I'd donned it without thinking or indeed noticing, like something I'd so done so often it no longer needed conscious thought. Except it was Mrs Ellaby to whom that should apply, not me. Our souls might have moved, but it seemed some habits and instincts had remained with their original bodies. It was a disturbing thought. I took a wire basket, picked the things I needed off the shelves, then made my way to the till where the owner, Mr Patel, greeted me with a smile. "Good morning, Mrs Ellaby," he said, "and a fine morning it is, too." "Warm and sunny," I agreed. "For you, maybe," came a voice from behind me, "but meself I like it much hotter, Mildred." I turned and instantly recognised the newcomer from Mrs Ellaby's descriptions. "Good morning, Vi," I said, "fancy running into you." Violet Williams was an elderly black woman - though probably no more elderly than I now was - and one of those Mrs Ellaby played bingo with. "Yes," said Vi, "now we can catch up over a cuppa." "Good idea," I said. Actually I wanted to go back to the house, have breakfast, and work on the spellbooks, but if only out of politeness Mrs Ellaby would have agreed to having a cup of tea with Violet so of course I had no choice but to do so as well. The Starlight Cafe was what our American cousins would call a 'greasy spoon' and was both next door to the Underground station and directly across the road from my gym. I ordered teas for us both and some toast for myself - I still hadn't had breakfast, after all. I carried the tray over to the window table Vi had chosen and set it down. "I've got you your favourite table," said Vi, smiling at me conspiratorially, "and you're in luck. *He's* over there today." "'He'?" I said, sitting down. "He who?" "Don't go acting all coy with me, Mildred Ellaby," said Violet. "You know very well who I mean. I've sat here drinking tea with you too often this past month not to notice how you look at that handsome young man who moved into the flat opposite yours. Not that I can fault your taste. He is mighty fine." I peered out of the cafe window with a sinking feeling in my stomach. In the gym opposite, on one of the exercise machines in its window and lifting an impressive number of weights with my stolen body, was Mrs Ellaby. On the one hand, I was glad to see her maintaining my body so that it would still be in good shape when I got it back, but on the other seeing her like that really drove home what I'd lost. "Look at us, ogling that boy like a couple of dirty old ladies," chuckled Violet. "He'd be shocked if he knew. Youngsters like that never imagine that while we may be old now we're still women. If he gets you wet then you go, girl! At our age you have to be grateful for anything that can still light your fire." So Mrs Ellaby had been watching me and planning to steal my body since I moved in with Cate. Interesting. That was when I realised what it was that had struck me about Mrs Ellaby's dresses, which led to another thought. "Vi," I said, "how long have we been going to bingo together?" She looked surprised. "Your memory really must be slipping if you can't remember that," she said. "Me and Mavis took you under our wing when you turned up at the bingo parlour for the first time about a year ago. We've been going along together ever since." A year. Which meant my suspicion was correct. "Sorry 'bout this, Vi," I said, getting to my feet, "but I'm going to have to love you and leave you." "OK, but don't be late for the bingo tonight." Back at the flat I carefully examined all of Mrs Ellaby's dresses, then sat down on the bed, staring at the wardrobe thoughtfully. All of them were brand new. Though I hadn't realised it at the time that was what had struck me as odd about them. An old woman whose wardrobe had no old clothes in it whatsoever? I don't think so. Then there was the fact of taking up bingo a year ago, just about the time Cate moved in. Mrs Ellaby had fallen for Cate back then, had known Cate would eventually find a boyfriend, and that she would be stealing his body and taking his place. I don't know what she was like before Cate arrived, but if she was so eager to become a young man how likely was it her wardrobe would contain only dresses? She must have fallen for Cate as soon as she moved in and almost immediately started constructing an 'old lady' persona that her victim would be forced to adopt by the geas since that would be how Cate knew her. None of this helped me, but at least now I knew Mrs Ellaby had been planning all this for a very long time. -5- The next morning, while I breakfasted on a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea, I contemplated the previous night's bingo session with Violet and Mavis, a quiet, somewhat mousy, and twig-thin old lady. Old lady. It was so easy to forget that te