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Deja Vu AscendancyChapter 272: Family Trip To Europe free porn video
Tuesday, July 5 to Wednesday, July 27, 2005
There were two areas I was REALLY hoping for progress in before we left to go to England: Mom's consenting to our three-way marriage, and the mansion purchase.
Mom stuck to her guns (not a shotgun unfortunately; a reference to the "shotgun wedding" euphemism. Carol's getting pregnant wasn't a tactic we would use). Mom was staunchly and frustratingly withholding her decision; which, in effect, was the same as saying no, except Carol and I had to stay on our best behavior in the hope that Mom might eventually decide to say yes. We all kept working on Mom, and she kept refusing to say yes or no. She was a pain in the ass, literally in Carol's case, as she was becoming tired of getting it there. Once or twice a month in that location as a novelty in the right mood is okay, but it loses its novelty value when it's all you can do. It's not as good for the girl, which means it wasn't as good for me either.
By the time we flew out to England, Mom hadn't budged an inch.
The best news I got before our trip was Vanessa FINALLY telling us that it was time for me to inspect the properties she was negotiating for.
"YAY!" I said.
"Not so fast, Mark. We're not at the right stage for your visits yet, but it'd be best to do them now rather than waiting four weeks."
"Argh! Yes Vanessa. I know it's not your fault, but it feels like I'm hitting my head against a brick wall. There's certainly no visible progress.
"That's the nature of the process."
The visits to each property were amusing, as the agents and sellers had no idea that the "important buyer" that Vanessa was acting as the negotiating agent for was so young, even with my having the casino disguise on. I drove up in my fancy Lexus with Vanessa beside me, with me dressed appropriately, as judged by Julia. That meant very upmarket, as apparently the "Homo Porn Star" look was the wrong image for real estate buying. I was introduced as "Mr. Anderson," and I was escorted around the property by Vanessa and the realtor, with Vanessa calling me "Sir" throughout the visit.
Vanessa had coached me on how to act and what to say, for example, "Is this house representative of the quality of houses in this town?"
"In this price range, yes sir," Vanessa answered.
"They aren't the same quality as at home."
"No. Sorry about that, sir, but the market is much smaller here."
"Pity."
I acted cool and disappointed about all the properties we visited, even though they were GORGEOUS! I wanted to throw money at the owners and move in right away, for any of them. I thought they were all wonderful, even though Vanessa had already explained the defects they each had. For example, at the first place I had to ask, "Where's the wine cellar?" because it didn't have one; at the second I had to say, "A THREE car garage! Where will my people park their cars?", etc.
Vanessa explained the renovations that each required, which I would be disappointed about, saying something like, "You couldn't find a house that had the features I requested?"
"No sir, not in this market."
"Maybe the next town will be better."
"I don't know sir; I'm not representing you there."
I thoroughly enjoyed looking at all the places, and especially the Peoria Road one, as it was at the top of our shortlist. I could easily imagine how it'd look when all the renovations were done, and it'd be superb to live in. I thought that about all the places. They made where we lived now look sick.
We left each of the prospective sellers with a strong sense of disappointment, while I drove away from each of their properties raving to Vanessa about how fantastic it was.
Nothing more was visibly achieved by the time we flew out to England, on July 7.
I won't say much about our time in Europe, just the following summary.
Getting there was an ugly experience. I've heard Economy Class in aircraft referred to as "Cattle Class", but I'm sure cattle would've been better treated, starting from the moment we arrived at the airport. The sooner I could fly myself, the better. I knew that was a silly thought, but the experience of international air travel out of America made me have many silly, pissed off, thoughts.
We spent nearly two weeks in England visiting with Mom's relatives. They're a good bunch of people, although I'd never call them a "bunch" if they could hear me; they're far too English to appreciate that. I'd always thought Mom's Englishness stood out, but she seemed positively American when surrounded by her relatives. They weren't Toffee Noses (God knows what that expression literally means), but they certainly spoke funny and maintained a certain stiff formality much of the time. That stereotype didn't describe most of the English people we met, but it did fit Mom's relatives.
I was amused that Mom hadn't mentioned ANY of my exploits to her family. They didn't know I was a millionaire, that I'd been kidnapped, or that we were in the very long process of buying a mansion (eventually, one day, if we were lucky). All they knew was that I was doing very well at school and sports, that I was doing "some college courses," and that the family was doing "quite well financially," Mom implied from investments. My missing finger was described by Mom as being the result of "a STUPIDLY childish mistake."
I teased Mom about her secretiveness, and she defended herself with, "Tease me if you want, but I'd sound delusional if I tried to explain you to anyone else. You're the one who made an issue out of being careful on the phone, so I thought you'd appreciate my being discreet about your accomplishments, especially on INTERNATIONAL calls," those being the ones that our government was admitting to recording. Mom's explanation pretty much ruined my ability to tease her.
We spent most of our time with Mom's parents, but there were quite a few of the family scattered around, so we did some traveling around southern England to catch up with various uncles, aunts and cousins. I had some pretty cousins, even a couple very pretty ones, but Mom would've strongly disapproved of my getting any more incestuous than I was already, so I was a good boy. Donna had a very good time with one nearby cousin though, because she had several horses. Donna thought the idea of having several horses was an excellent one, and she suggested that we should do the same thing. I let Mom handle that one. It didn't take her long.
We all got along well with our "rellies" (apparently that's slang-English for "relatives". I'm not sure of the spelling, but the English don't know how to spell properly anyway, so it probably doesn't matter). Julia got along particularly well with them, as she knew how to fit into their style. They thought she was a "Dahling".
Carol turned fourteen a few days after we arrived. They put on a nice party for her, with some of her similarly-aged cousins inviting some of their similarly-aged friends, which I quite enjoyed. I didn't do anything more than flirt, but that's a lot of fun. It wasn't as good a party as we could've had at home, with Carol's friends around her, but it was okay. It took her one step closer to eighteen, which I was starting to worry might be how long we had to wait for the marriage, because Mom certainly wasn't being cooperative.
Most of my special abilities almost went rusty from lack of use, although I did have one bit of fun with them. I was with Donna at the "relly's" who had the horses, while Julia, Carol and Mom were shopping in London (I'd loudly, insistently and repeatedly begged off). I was offered a horse to ride too. I hadn't been on a horse for years, and then only briefly, so I was cautious about accepting one, but the cousin was the same age as Donna and pretty, so I agreed. Once I was onboard the thing, and had walked for a few yards, I realized that my ki abilities would be very useful.
I did a bit of experimenting to make sure my ideas worked, which they did, so I asked, "Jennifer, why do I have to put my feet in these little metal holding things?"
"They're stirrups. To keep you from falling off."
I leaned forward somewhat theatrically, put on a silly voice, and asked my horse, "I say Old Chap, you wouldn't let me fall off, would you?"
My horse shook his head from side to side (as a result of the NP I used).
Jennifer laughed, saying, "You're on a mare, Mark."
"A mere what?" I was deliberately pretending to have even less knowledge about horses. Not that I knew much, but I did know what "mare" meant.
"Pardon?"
That took a few seconds to untangle
"Sorry, Old Girl. No harm done, say what! Spiffing."
-- To Jennifer, I asked, "What about these strings we pull? Surely that's very rude. I thought you English were polite, so why don't you just ask the horsie to go the way you want it to?"
"Haha. You've got very silly ideas. You have to use reins to control a horse."
I dropped the reins, leaning forward to tell my horse, "I'll tell you what, Old Girl, I'll be polite to you and you be polite to me. Won't that be jolly good?"
My horse nodded her agreement.
I leaned way back in my saddle, putting my hands behind my head as if I was sunning myself on a beach. I also lifted my feet out of the stirrups and put them on the doubtless confused horse's neck. I now looked VERY relaxed, totally unable to control my horse, and about to fall off any second (my feet provided some stability, but most of it was from my NP holding me on the center on the horse's back). The saddle made this quite an uncomfortable position but that didn't matter; I was having too much fun playing to my audience. "I say Old Girl. Let's go walkies out the usual way." Jennifer had already indicated which direction we'd be riding in, so I used NP to pull my horse's bit forward. That caused the horse to think "forward", and I reinforced its Intention Ki with plenty of my own. Horses have about a fifth as much ki as humans (I'm assuming the horse isn't a highly trained aikidoka, which seems a fair assumption as I can't see Sensei letting a horse crap all over our mats, especially because we do hundreds of forward rolls on them), so it was very easy for me to swamp its ki with mine. Between EKP and pulling the bit forward, I could control it easily.
As we walked out of the stables area, I said, "I say, Old Girl. I'd jolly well appreciate it if you turned left after you went through that spiffing little gate just ahead."
To Jennifer's and Donna's amazement, I stayed on my horse, and it knew exactly where to go.
"Are you hungry, Old Girl? There's a jolly delicious looking clump of grass over to the left."
My horse looked at it, then shook its head.
"Okay, jolly good. Let me know if you want to stop for a spot of morning tea later."
My horse nodded.
Jennifer and Donna were riding behind me, laughing, calling me crazy, and no doubt waiting for me to fall off. So I turned around to face backward so I could talk with them. "Jolly good fun this horse riding lark, isn't it?"
"You're supposed to face FORWARD! Haha."
"Why? The horse knows where she's going. I'd be worried if the horse was facing the wrong way, but it doesn't matter which way I face."
"You'll fall off and hurt yourself."
"Phooey!" I said hopefully.
I was a bit worried about what was going to happen when we started going faster. I knew horses bounce their riders around a lot when they shift into second gear (that was pretty much when my previous horse riding experience had ended). I called back over my shoulder, "Let me know if you need me to turn around, Old Girl. Otherwise just keep up the good work. Jolly good."
"You're crazy!"
"I hope you're talking to me, rather than my horse. I don't want you to hurt her feelings."
"Haha. YOU are crazy."
As well as being crazy, I was also trying to work out whether I dared to keep up this silly game while I tried trotting. Would roughly 110 pounds of NP force be enough to keep me on a trotting horse's back when I was facing backward?
I thought it was questionable. I wasn't too worried about falling off. A little worried, but not "too". I had faith in my athleticism, plus Aikido had given me a lot of practice at being thrown through the air (it's amazing how far my little English Sensei could throw me). I was more worried about making a fool of myself, as that'd ruin my joke.
It'd be best to get as much of the joke done as soon as possible, so I suddenly leaned back toward my horse's head, saying, "What's that, Old Girl?"
A couple of seconds later I added, "Hang on, I'll check for you."
-- To Donna and Jennifer I said, "Excuse me girls. My horse wants me to do something for her."
While they were laughing at me, I turned around on my saddle again, knelt on it, then carefully stood up on the saddle. It was a little tricky to do, but 110 pounds of NP can provide a very good midair handhold, as I didn't need to put anything like my full weight on it to stand. I was still using EKP to maintain the horse's intention to walk forward, and proximity would give me warning if it was about to try any monkey business, which I should be able to swamp out of existence by pouring a huge amount of ki through my EKP.
Standing totally upright on the saddle, using some NP to keep me balanced, I raised one hand to shield my eyes from the sun (I was being theatrical, as there's hardly ever any sun in England). I looked around, then pointed off to the right, saying, "I think there's a good spot off to the right Old Girl. At about 2 o'clock. You can tell the time, can't you?"
My horse turned and walked in the two o'clock direction.
I turned back to the girls, asking them, "I like riding this way because I get a much better view. By the way, my horse is a little embarrassed about it, but she thinks she needs to go to the toilet, so I asked her to head for those trees over there. Is that all right?"
The girls were too busy laughing to decide which piece of lunacy to discuss first.
While the horse was walking, it was fairly easy for me to stand on the saddle. It'd be tricky normally, but NP could push me back into balance whenever I needed. I gave a little thought to whether I could remain standing if the horse trotted. I decided not, even with using NP to hold my feet in contact with the saddle, so I had to get down.
I learned forward a little, saying, "What's that Old Girl?"
A second later, "I'll ask."
-- I turned around so I was now standing on the saddle and facing backward, looking at the girls who were looking at the lunatic. I said, "My horse would like to know if she's allowed to go faster? She's a very polite horse. I like her."
"Haha. Horses CAN'T TALK! You're CRAZY, Mark." Jennifer asked Donna, "Is he always liked this?"
"Never this silly. Stop standing on the horse like that, Mark. If you make me laugh any more, I'll fall off."
"You should learn to ride properly, like me."
"Haha, haha. Stop it!"
It was time I got down, so I crouched to take my weight on my arms, then let my legs down the side of the horse. I was now sitting, but still facing backward, so I asked, "Happy now?"
"You're facing the wrong way!"
"Oh. I wondered where the Old Girl's head went." I swiveled around to face forward, adding, "There it is."
We were clear of the stable area, and into an open field, so it was presumably time to press the accelerator. The more I thought about it, the more I remembered how bad the bouncing had been from trotting, so I decided that I'd better not play the fool when we started that. I'd sit properly, and if it turned out to be easy, then I could add increments of foolishness.
I dropped my legs down the side of the horse, put my feet in the stirrups (NP helping with that), then I called back over my shoulder, "Jennifer, what's the word for the next fastest speed?"
"I'm too scared to tell you. Are you sitting in the saddle properly? Got your feet in the stirrups?"
"I'll have you know that I'm a VERY good rider! Last time I must've stayed on for at least FORTY whole seconds. That's pretty impressive!"
Apparently Jennifer wasn't all that impressed, because she trotted up beside me to check I was okay. She looked me over, asked, "Is your other foot in the stirrup?"
"Yep. But only because I want to stop them banging against my horse. It's very rude to have these things flopping around you know. How would you like it if you had things like stirrups waving around and hitting you in your very nice chest all the time?"
Jennifer just blushed, not sure how to answer her crazy cousin's crazy compliment. She was at that age when she was new to her new body (you know what I mean) and very easy to tease about it.
I held my feet away from my horse's sides, saying, "Don't worry, Old Girl, I won't hit you with the nasty stirrups or my feet. I don't know what the word is, but please go faster when you're ready?"
"Hold the reins Mark!" shouted Jennifer, too late as I'd just used a couple of NP-points to 'kick' the horse where you normally kick them to make them go faster. Old Girl, or whatever her real name is, leaped into a trot.
A few bone-crushing seconds later, #3:
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