There was a steady stream of water falling between Ali, my Syrian gardener’s legs.
“Ali,” I said. “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?”
“Ah, madam. I’m watching Max’s premature ejaculation. He did it for his mother…”
I paused. I’ve learned that’s a good idea with Ali. I’m never quite sure if he’s serious, or just confused.
“His water hose… He’s got it hooked up to Google – that online house thing. It waters the flowers. Well, drowns them actually. It’s coming on prematurely and the water pressure’s too high.”
“I see,” I said. I decided I had better talk to that English teacher of his.
“I prefer to use a more natural method such as this watering can, madam,” he said as he continued to water the flowers.
It’s been a strange week. Sylvester had a couple of his Navy friends staying. Billy Bates, a Quartermaster on a missile cruiser, and his friend Simon Steyns. Simon was recently demoted back to Ordinary Seaman following a nasty shoreside incident involving another member of the crew and a very worried looking hamster.
To round everything off Amanda brought her sister over and her revolting daughter. Chelsea, Amanda’s elder sister doesn’t approve of Amanda’s relationship with Marjory. She say’s it’s against God. I have say I told her that Amanda is against God. I mean really! What immortal hand or eye would frame that fearful symmetry… urgh.
Chelsea Chizit and her daughter Emma are cut from the same cloth. They’re the sort of uncultured slobs that know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
And to top it off Max is besotted with Emma. To be fair, she is not entirely unpleasant to look at as she glides around the garden half naked in the sunshine, like some sort of fae. Yet Max just stares slack jawed and drools. It’s most disturbing. He wanders around moony eyed murmuring “Emma Chizit… Emma Chizzit.”
“Ali,” I said as firmly as I could, “Do you happen to know if Amanda is next door visiting Marjory?”
“Oh yes,” he said. Not much gets passed Ali. He knows the comings and goings of most of Huckleberry Close. “She wrist deep in …”
“Ali!” I said firmly.
“… in tomatoes. They’re canning the tomatoes she grew this summer. Making sauce…”
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. I’d love to get you into my Feminization Program, if you’re not already in it. If you’d like to join just send me a quick email at firstname.lastname@example.org and choose a lovely sissy name so I can get you started either on our free program or our Premium program. I know you’ll enjoy it and have a lot of fun. There’s hypnosis, stories, exercises – a whole lot of fun for anyone who’s interested in crossdressing or crossdressers.
I had a delightful member, Alice, tell me about her situation in a nursing home recently. She found herself in a position where she was only able to dress in her room. There’s a wealth of legal questions around that, but for those who wish to reach out in such a position, it’s worth noting there are trans seniors groups in many urban centres, some of which do visits to seniors homes. All one needs to do is access them. Simply search Google for Trans Seniors Groups. Failing that, My Little Black Book is a great way to reach out across the miles to others who wish to talk about crossdressing and pass on ideas, whether you’re in a submarine or a seniors home.