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Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly

By: Kezza67



This story is fiction as are the characters. Caggetts Wood is fictional. Please do not confuse this tale with real life. The attitudes described should not be read as the norm for British standards or Government policy (whatever that is). Marion and Marianne are the same person. There is little graphic sex in this story.

THE CHRYSALIS AND THE BUTTERFLY

A French accommodation for an English marriage.

CHAPTER ONE

The customary faces of the High Street greeted Marion as she made her way from shop to shop. The butcher, hearty but with an unhealthy flush to his face served her with a rib of Beef for the weekend. The greengrocer, tanned from early mornings in the market, filled another part of her basket with fruits and vegetables telling her "the spuds were lifted just three hours ago, fresh as a Daisy". And the Baker, perspiration glistening on his brow from the oven just behind him provided her with crispy rolls and a cottage loaf. Familiar faces, the usual requirements and the oft repeated greetings of "Good Morning Mrs. Urquhart." She nodded and received nods from others known only by their familiar presence along the High Street, their names a mystery. The shopkeepers were relics of another time in Caggetts Wood, preserved by distance and size from the tide of supermarkets that had swamped their like in other, larger towns. The customers were also to an extent vestiges as well, people who chose to enjoy the peace and tradition of old England whilst it still existed in little pockets such as this. People who could afford the high prices of property here as it wasn't cheap to live in old England. 

It hadn't been Marion's choice, but rather the choice of her husband, Charles, a dispassionate man who was a 'something' in the Department of Trade; a civil servant who was supposed to facilitate business in this country and abroad, unfortunately without knowing anything about the cut and thrust of Commercial life. His position had been obtained and guaranteed by a double 'First' in Arts at Oxford. The Civil Service liked graduates who understood Latin. Charles, in addition had good French and German. He would have appeared to be perfect for the Foreign Office. However the Foreign Office seemed to deplore linguistic ability, arrogantly believing that everyone should understand English. An attitude they shared with their American counterparts. At Trade they thought his languages could be useful.

With her shopping complete, Marion would call at the 'The Nook', a Tea room to refresh herself with a coffee. As she sipped the hot liquid she reflected on her life. With no reference to her watch she could time her Thursday routine almost to the second. Ten o' clock arrive at the butcher. Ten fifteen, she would enter the greengrocer's. At ten thirty the baker would have her attention. Ten forty the bell of the Chemists shop would ring as she pushed the reluctant door. No matter how often Mr. Littlejohn, the chemist had it repaired it stubbornly refused to open easily. Another five minutes and it was the Haberdashery and finally just before eleven she would arrive here. She would have been greeted and returned the greeting at least a dozen times during her foray along the High Street. Women who she knew simply because they shopped at the same time, were members of the various women's groups that dressed the Anglican Church with flowers on a rota basis; baked cakes for the bring and buy sale, the beneficiary being some charity or other; and made the sandwiches then cheered on faceless husbands at the village Cricket matches. It was odd, she thought, that she knew the wives but could never match up a wife to the various husbands that played in those matches. Was this it? She thought. Was this life? Acquainted with husbands and wives who seemingly existed in separate universes. Was this how people saw her? Imprisoned in a daily life so regular that she could forecast her day a year, or even ten years ahead.

Charles was a good provider of all things material. Lavender Cottage was described so, but in reality was a comfortable four bedroom house, built with a mixture of cream and orange local Kentish bricks that weathered so well. Originally it had been a cottage and the old part still had the thatched roof. Then it had been extended with the extra bedrooms, a large lounge, a new kitchen and plumbing that worked. The extension was roofed with those waved tiles copied from the Roman design called Pantiles. They didn't seem out of place alongside the thatch. Roses clambered haphazardly around the walls and low eaves, Magnolia hung lazily, blossoming exuberantly and the lawns were kept immaculately manicured by the gardener. It was that sort of place that photographers believed would represent the essence of England to the world as many calendars would bear witness. 

Standing outside the garage was this year's Jaguar which she would sometimes drive although she preferred the exercise of walking the mile into the town to shop and back. With this almost daily exercise she retained the measurements she had at nineteen. The cottage was idyllic to most eyes. Charles had chosen a four bedroom property because there would be children. As time passed by and no children came he changed, until they reached the point where their intimacy was for five minutes once a month. Marion wondered if it appeared as a diary entry in much the same way that his work appointments were diarised. He associated intimacy with progeny and as it became clear they their union would not produce, he withdrew from frequent sexual contact with Marion. Nothing was said, no words of blame, he just relegated that part of the marriage. He now slept in one of the newer bedrooms, ostensibly because he would not disturb her when he had to rise early. Marion knew the real reason. Their marriage had evolved into one of convenience. He was a provider and she was the lady of the house, charming to visitors and understanding the etiquette of meeting the other high-flyers in the world of government when they entertained.

Marion had been brought up to do this job. Her family could be described as upper middle class, quite wealthy and hovering on the fringes of aristocracy, but not part of it. Education for girls in that stratum was about knowing how to comport themselves, how to curtsey and how to address a Lord or a Right Honourable. She was taught what cutlery to use, how to converse politely without controversy and last but not least given an introduction to the classics in Literature, Art, and Music. It was assumed that she would marry someone who needed a wife and hostess so she was trained for that role.

As she sat, her mind meandering around her life she thought that many would envy her. Yet Marion missed something. She wasn't certain what it was but something was missing. If she had a really close friend it would be something to discuss and identify, this mysterious something. When she was younger she did have such a close friend, but time and distance had gradually eroded the contact, from frequent phone calls and letters to occasional letters and even less occasional phone calls. The last she heard was that Justine was in Hong Kong with her second husband and a different life. That was three years ago. Marion had written to the last address she had for Justine but had no reply. Now she had no friends but those who were acquainted with Charles. Was that something she sought simply the need for a friend?

Gathering her purchases Marion left the cash on the table together with a tip and left 'The Nook' to make her way home. This mood of dissatisfaction came rarely but when it came it would stay with her for a few days. She normally dealt with it by deciding on doing something different. As she walked the options of something different played in her mind. At last an idea solidified in her head. She would go to Tunbridge Wells. Not tomorrow though, being Friday Charles would be home early; no self-respecting Civil Servant would work Friday afternoon. No! She would go next Tuesday. She would drive to Frant station and take the train to Tunbridge and then spend a day window shopping and treating herself to lunch. It was easier to park at Frant and driving around Tunbridge was a nightmare. With that decision made she felt better, so it was with a lighter heart she walked up the drive to the cottage.

The weekend was very much like every weekend. Charles had arrived home at three on Friday afternoon, changed into flannels and a tweed jacket and spent some time in the garden dead-heading the roses; this was the limit of his interest in gardening. Saturday was his day for Golf. Marion suspected that he didn't play more than one round, but the club had excellent dining facilities and a good bar. Sunday's were passed lounging, usually reading the newspapers first and then later the papers he brought home from work. Marion cooked a traditional Sunday lunch, the rib of beef with Yorkshire pudding and vegetables, then for dessert a Bramley apple pie with custard. She wondered what would happen if she put something different in front of him. Not much she imagined. He was a Civil Servant, trained to be imperturbable. He would eat the meal, and then later chide her gently. 

Early on Monday the taxi arrived to take him to Frant Station and just before he left he mentioned, almost as an afterthought.

"I will be in Brussels next week. Probably there for about three weeks. It's this bloody business with the subsidies again."

"I understand, dear. I will make sure you have plenty of clean shirts and underpants." Marion replied taking this news in her stride. Charles made frequent trips to Brussels as he and his fellow Civil Servants of all the member states tried to make sense of the unworkable agreements the politicians had negotiated and signed.

"Good girl! See you this evening." He gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and then went out to the waiting car. 

She spent the day sorting through Charles's clothes, laying out shirts with matching ties. Then handkerchiefs, underpants and socks sufficient for the week. She would take three of his suits to the cleaner tomorrow, dropping them off on her way to Frant. All three were a dark grey with a fine light grey pin-stripe; he never wore anything else and never wore the same suit two days running. They would be ready for Friday. Shoes were similar. Black with a toe cap and laces. Marion selected three pairs to pack. Satisfied that she had made a start on his packing she relaxed in the garden, flicking through the latest edition of 'Woman's Realm'. Charles would be late tonight as he usually dined at his club on Mondays. As she thought about that she realised that he was dining at his club more frequently. A little smile came to her lips, perhaps he had a mistress? No, she thought, not Charles. Charles did nothing in his life that could upset his equilibrium. She on the other hand was doing something different. Tuesday would not come soon enough for her.

Over breakfast that Tuesday morning she mentioned to Charles her plans for the day.

"I thought of going into Tunbridge today." Charles was engrossed in the paper, but he managed a polite enquiry.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"No. Just having a look around. Is there anything you need?"

"I don't think so." They heard the crunch of wheels on the drive. "The car is here. Must be off. I'll see you tonight." He leaned down and gave Marion a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

Marion drove into the town first and dropped the suits off at the cleaners and then she set out towards Frant. She was always careful with the car. Charles had bought the XJ five litre Portfolio, and at first Marion had been frightened with the power, it seemed the merest touch on the accelerator had the car leaping away. Now having got used to it she could drive it without fear and appreciated its comfort. It was a shade less than ten miles to Frant and she had arrived and parked the car just after ten o'clock. She would have half an hour to wait, not that she minded it was a warm day and a gentle cool breeze took the heat out of the sun. 

When she first used the station she was bemused as the platforms didn't face each other, but were staggered. She had wondered why and someone had told her it was so that trains would not stop side by side, thereby allowing passengers in third class to ogle the important personages and nobility in first class. She wasn't totally convinced that was the reason, although Charles thought it a very good idea. But then Charles would, she thought. Another amusing and very English thing was that the station was actually in the village of Bells Yew Green. Frant itself was a couple of miles away. The South Eastern Railway who built the line in eighteen fifty-one decided to call their station Frant and no one had ever bothered to correct the peculiarity.

The train arrived on time and shortly she was alighting at Tunbridge Wells. It was always quite cool at Tunbridge as the station was sandwiched between two tunnels; they funnelled any waft of air into a brisk breeze. She crossed over the footbridge towards the Mount Pleasant Road. Marion was just leaving the station when she felt a blow on her right heel, immediately after the blow she was hobbling. Looking down she saw the heel of her right shoe was suddenly missing. She was now two inches smaller on her right side.

"Oh! I am so sorry. I think I caught your heel with my case." Marion looked up at the speaker. He was a fair-haired man, younger than she. He was about six feet in height, and he was pushing a large case with wheels. Marion slipped her foot out of the shoe and picked it up. The missing heel was evident. "Damn! Have I done that? I am so sorry." He looked around and found the heel. He picked it up. "God! I feel so foolish, please forgive me." Marion was a little annoyed at his clumsiness, but her upbringing had taught her to control her emotions.

"Please don't concern yourself. It can be repaired." That was what she said, although inside she was seething. It could be repaired, but not today, so the first thing she had to do was buy a new pair of shoes. The young man was not finished.

"Are you sure it can be repaired?"

"Yes, but it does leave me without shoes for the day."

"Look. I may be able to get it done today. I could take you to my sister's shop. Just along from there is a good shoe repairer. I'll beg and plead and promise him anything to get it done as you wait, so to speak. Please allow me to at least try." He was so earnest in his pleading that Marion had to smile.

"I suppose that may help. How far is it? I don't want to hobble too far."

"I'll get a cab. It's not far but even so it would be wrong of me to expect you to hobble anywhere."

His sister's shop was a rather up-market ladies boutique. It was in a terrace of Georgian buildings so the windows were small with room for one display only The mannequin in each displayed a very fashionable dress, artistically draped but with no price shown. Marion knew expensive when she saw it. There were three steps up to the door with ornate iron railings either side. 

The young man opened the door and showed her in, a bell tinkled somewhere at the back of the shop. There was no one in the place.

"Sylvie! Sylvie." He called. A very pretty, slim young woman entered the shop from the back. She was dressed as many would expect for a place like this; designer Jeans with black strappy high heels and a loose brightly patterned blouse. Although slim she did have quite a large bust. 

"Hello Guy." She looked at Marion curiously. "Can I help?" Guy answered for Marion.

"I need help. I have been terribly clumsy with my case and broken this lady's shoe heel. Could you look after her while I go down to the Cobbler and see if I can get it repaired?" 

"Yes Guy, I can do that, but a repair will only last for a couple of weeks. You will have to buy this lady another pair of shoes." Guy looked crestfallen.

"Another pair?" He asked slowly. His sister nodded.

"Yes. I'll show this lady some whilst you're gone. I won't charge you too much Guy." She said sweetly. She turned, smiling, to Marion as Guy left with the shoe. "There! That will teach him to look where he's going." She extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Sylvie, Sylvie Tranter." Marion shook her hand.

"Marion Urquhart."

"Nice to meet you, Marion. Let's get you a cup of coffee first, and then we can look at some shoes."

"I didn't realise you sold shoes as well?"

"We try to provide everything for the discerning lady. Top to toe and underneath." 

Marion followed Sylvie down the passage past the changing room which at a quick glace showed it furnished with comfortable settees, opposite the changing room was a beauty parlour and they finally arrived in the footwear department.

"Take a seat, Marion. How do you like your coffee?"

"Thank you. Strong with just a little milk and one sugar."

"Won't be a moment."

Marion sat down and looked around. As she did her heart sank as the stock on display didn't look at all like the shoes she would normally wear. They were mainly sandals with very high heels, basically a sole and heel with straps to hold them on the foot. Sylvie returned with two cups. Marion thanked her.

"Guy said you were his sister. I have to say there is little family resemblance." Sylvie laughed.

"No. We are step sister and brother. I lost my mother when I was young and my father married Guy's mother. His father was killed in the Falklands five months before Guy was born. We grew up together. We get on well although Guy can be a bit thick at times."

"This is a very nice place you have."

"Thank you. I haven't been open long. It takes time for people to know we are here."

"I was looking at your displays. I don't think there are any shoes there that I could wear." Sylvie followed her gaze to the displays.

"Oh! The cfms. I have lots more I can show you."

"Sorry. The cfm's did you say?"

"Yes. The come fuck me shoes." Marion burst out laughing.

"Well I have never heard that expression before, but looking at the style I can see what you mean." Sylvie grinned back at her.

"Every girl needs a pair like that. I mean how else are we to get through to the men we fancy but are too stupid to understand the signs we give out. Dangle one of those off your toe and he will soon get the message."

"I would imagine so." Marion felt a little uncomfortable with this topic so asked about the other styles of shoe Sylvie had. Sylvie looked at Marion's feet.

"What size are you? I would imagine something like a four or five."

"Five usually, but sometimes I can get into a four."

Sylvie went off and after a few minutes came back with a selection of shoes.

"Oh yes. These are more my style." She tried most of them on until she found a pair that suited her and were very comfortable to wear. Apart from the shade they were almost a copy of the shoes she was wearing when she left home that morning."

"How much are they?" She asked Sylvie, as she rummaged in her handbag for her credit cards.

"Guy is paying for these." Marion shook her head.

"No. I can't allow that. It was an accident and he is trying to get the heel repaired. I will pay for these. Now how much is the account?"

"Can we wait until Guy gets back? Let's see what he says."

"If you wish. But I will insist on paying." Sylvie got up and wandered over to the shoe display. She hummed a little then picked up a pair of cfms. Turning to Marion she grinned cheekily and said.

"Want to find out how these feel?" Marion had a smile on her face as she nodded.

"Go on. I'll try."

The sandals had a higher heel than Marion had ever worn before so she tottered a little when she first stood and walked in them. A few turns about the room got her used to them quite quickly.


Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly



"It feels as if I have nothing on my feet!"

"That's the whole idea. Show a man your naked feet and he will immediately start thinking of the rest of you in the same state. Men are really quite simple you know." They both laughed. "Poor things." Sylvie continued. "Nature has programmed them to react to signs they don't understand. At the same time Nature has given women the understanding of the codes, so we have an advantage over them."

"Don't you like men?" Marion asked.

"I love 'em." Sylvie replied emphatically. "Women are at their best after they have had a good session with at least four good orgasms. Men are needed for that...Well most of the time."

"Four?" Marion asked with astonishment written all over her face. Sylvie nodded.

"Yeah. You've got to train them a little, but once they have been taught they're quite capable." Marion was astounded at this young lady's attitude, quite the opposite of how she was brought up.

"My husband would be appalled to think that women could exert that much influence."

"Is he a lot older than you, then?"

"No. He's four years older than me. He's forty."

"You're thirty six? I wouldn't have put you past thirty." Marion laughed.

"You need spectacles."

"No I don't. You dress and make up as if you were older, but underneath that you are a lovely woman. A younger woman as well. Why do you do that?"

"I was brought up to dress conservatively, and that is the way my husband seems to want me."

Sylvie was thinking about Marion's reply and walked around the room, her arms folded with one forearm raised so that her finger tapped her cheek.

"Marion. You may be here for some time; do you have anything else you planned for today?"

"No. I thought to just wander around, window shopping." Sylvie came to a decision.

"Let me give you a make-over. I have been properly trained and I can show you my certificates if you wish. A facial first, then a complete make-up. I want to show you how you could look. What do you say?"

"I think the day I planned has changed so much, so why not? It could be fun, only I shall have to redo my make up before I go home. I doubt that Charles would notice, but just on the off-chance it would mean I don't have to explain things to him." Marion would realise much later that keeping a secret from her husband was the first step on the road to infidelity. 

CHAPTER TWO

Marion lay back in the clinic chair, her head supported by the back-rest with a band around her head keeping her hair out of the way. Sylvie had cleansed Marion's face with an astringent lotion and was gently massaging moisturiser into her skin. 

"You have really good bone structure." She told Marion who smiled.

"Thank you. I have to thank my mother for that."

"You're lucky. My mother died when I was two years old, so I really never knew her." 

"My mother is still alive," replied Marion, "but I rarely see her. Even when growing up I didn't see her that often."

"Why was that?"

"She was a very busy lady. Lots of committee meetings and functions to attend, taking tea with other ladies in the same circles and then more functions with my father. I saw her fleetingly as she swept out of the house in glamorous evening or Cocktail dresses. She would stay in bed until noon, so I wouldn't see her until the evening the next day as she swept out of the house again in another glamorous evening dress, I don't think I ever saw her in ordinary clothes. Then when I was sixteen I was sent away to Finishing School."

"Not one of those terrible places in Switzerland?"

"No. It was in Esher. It was only ten miles from home but Mummy insisted I boarded. They taught me how to address any of the nobility, how to curtsey, how to walk properly, the right way for a lady to get into and out of a car and lots of other things even down to the right way to chastise the House Parlour Maid." Marion was laughing as she told Sylvie this. "As if anyone has a House Parlour Maid these days!" Sylvie was giggling as well.

"So how did you meet your husband?"

"My parents invited him for Dinner one evening; this was after I had been finished. I was dressed up for the occasion and Mummy introduced me to Charles. I was under no illusions that they had decided that I should marry him. He needed a wife who was 'right' and Mummy and Daddy thought it a good match."

"What does he do?"

"He's a Civil Servant. A sort of Mandarin in waiting. He's got the right qualifications, Harrow, Oxford. One of those marked out for higher things." Marion told her dryly.

"Oh! A Knighthood in the pocket and a gold-plated pension?"

"That's it. And I shall be Lady Urquhart one day."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that."

"It's the prize for putting up with an unadventurous life."

Sylvie was preparing for the make-up. She showed Marion various colours of lipstick, who predictably wanted a pale rose, the colour she normally wore. Sylvie disagreed. 

"No, I think this deeper red would do well. It's more dramatic and invites a kiss." Marion was about to argue when Sylvie interrupted. "Trust me on this."

"Oh alright." Marion subsided. The base was smoothed in, then blusher for the cheeks fading it down from the cheekbones. Sylvie then applied Mascara and brushed Marion's lashes with a curved brush darkening them as she did so. Finally the lips. She outlined them first, creating a fuller profile then painted in with the deep red lipstick. Finally she glossed them. She turned the chair away from the mirror and took off the band allowing Marion to fluff out her hair.

"Right." She announced. "Are you ready for this?" Marion nodded.

Sylvie turned the chair back. There was silence as Marion stared at her reflection. Staring back was the face from a glossy fashion magazine.

"That's not me." She spluttered. Sylvie agreed.

"No, it's not you. I think that person is... Marianne, yes Marianne. A beautiful lady of a certain age. Confident in herself, willing to take on the world and to take pleasure when she chooses as she chooses." Marion looked askance at her new friend.

"Are you sure about that? I doubt that I could take on the world." Sylvie leaned in and encouraged her.

"It's the confidence you need." She stood up. "Shall we go for some lunch?" 

"That would be nice. Where?"

"There's a little Bistro just round the corner. They have a nice menu." She took a step back and surveyed Marion. "Hmm. I think we need to find you a pretty frock. That skirt, blouse and jacket are very Marion but not quite Marianne. Come with me." 

Marion's clothes were of the best quality and could be described as timeless insomuch that they wouldn't be out of place in the nineteen-thirties, or forties, or even the fifties. Without waiting for an answer Sylvie strode off towards the front of the premises. Marion followed at a run, protesting as she did so that she didn't need a new frock. She arrived in the showroom to see Sylvie holding a very pretty frock. If it wasn't actually made of Silk it looked very close. 

"This is a ten; you look about a ten in size. Try it on."

"Sylvie, I can't."

"Don't be silly. It's not as if you have to buy it." She carried it through to the changing room followed by Marion. "Come on. Slip out of those things." Marion took off her jacket and slowly started to unbutton her blouse expecting Sylvie to leave. Sylvie didn't. Shrugging her shoulders Marion took off her blouse and skirt, suddenly ashamed of her utilitarian underwear and pantyhose. Sylvie held out the dress and Marion stepped into it. She looked into the floor length mirror and turned this way and that. It was without doubt a very nice frock; it had a camouflage type of pattern in black, cream and orange. The material clung lovingly to her body. 

She turned to Sylvie, who had a worried look.

"It's lovely."

"Yes." replied Sylvie. "But we're not quite there." She thought for a moment then her face lightened. "The bra! The bra's got to go." Now Marion was really worried.

"I can't go without a bra."

"No. Marion wouldn't, but Marianne would. Come on just slip the top down and we'll get rid of it." The top of the dress was unzipped before Marion could protest, the fabric slipped down and Sylvie unclasped the catch of the bra. Marion held the cups in place as she tried to find the words to argue. Sylvie gave her no option, she gently but firmly pried Marion's hands away and the bra followed. Marion's blushes did not show through her newly made up face. "Nice!" Said Sylvie. "Very pretty." She pulled the dress back into place and zipped it. The strange sensation of her breasts unfettered against the soft material brought another blush to her face as her nipples reacted to the teasing of the silk. Blood flowed in and they burgeoned.

Sylvie examined her protege again critically.

"Oh! That's better." Sylvie decided, satisfied that the dress was now right. "Finishing touch. I'll get you those sandals." Marion was beyond argument now and slipped the sandals on her feet. Sylvie stepped back and examined her critically, and then she smiled. "Done! That's the puller look if ever I saw one."

"Puller?" Queried Marion.

"Yes. The men will come flocking to you dressed like that."

"Sylvie. Do you think of everything in terms of men?"

"Of course. Why else do we dress the way we do? You'll see. We won't have to get our purses out for anything when we get to Ugo's."

As they walked the short distance to the Bistro called Ugo's the light breeze licked at her dress, wrapping the silky fabric around her legs one moment then lifting the hem to display her legs. They turned the corner and now the breeze came at them head on, flattening the fabric against her breasts. At first Marion hunched forward to hide her still prominent nipples, this posture had a tendency to unbalance her due to the high heels of her sandals so she threw caution to the wind, literally, and walked proudly with her head high. Sylvie had watched this conflict with amusement, now she congratulated her pupil.

"Atta girl!"

Ugo's was a very up-market place with prices to match. Even so it was well patronised. Hugo, the proprietor welcomed them effusively and conducted them to a table with a reserved plaque which he whisked away immediately.

"Sylvie. It's so good to see you, and who is your lovely companion?"

"Hugo, this is Marianne,"

"Welcome to Ugo's, Marianne. Beautiful ladies are always welcome here. Allow me to get you a drink and I'll bring the menu. Will a Chardonnay or Chablis suit you?" Before Marion could say anything Sylvie accepted for them both. "The Chablis please, Hugo." When they were alone Marion asked Sylvie.

"Do you reserve a table every day?"

"Oh no. Hugo always puts a reserved sign on at least one table, so that when a pretty girl comes in he can seat them straightaway. As you can see the table is situated so that it can be seen from the entrance. He puts us here and it brings in the men. We get free drinks and the men put their hands in their pockets and not just for their cash." Marion burst out laughing.

"I'm getting to know you, Sylvie and understand what that meant." Sylvie was grinning.

"Good. Now this will be interesting."

Two well dressed men were approaching.

"Most of the tables seem to be taken," the first one said. "Do you think we could share your table?" Sylvie smiled sweetly at them.

"I am so sorry. Our escort will be joining us soon. Perhaps another time?"

"Escort? In the singular? One man for two gorgeous ladies. Now that's not fair." The second man rejoined. Sylvie shrugged her shoulders.

"He looks after us very well." The men looked shocked then smiled. Sylvie's comment was ambiguous and Marion becoming used to Sylvie's banter suddenly understood the implied second meaning. She giggled. The two guys wandered away just as Hugo returned with their drinks. He was well aware that the two men had angled to sit with his two lovely customers.

"Guy is joining you?"

"I expect so." Hugo nodded.

"I'll leave you alone and take your order when he arrives. If you want any more wine, just give me the nod." When he had gone Sylvie spoke in a low voice to Marion.

"If we ask for more wine, those two will pay for them as long as we are alone." She indicated with a slant of her head the two men who had asked to join them. They were now standing at the bar chatting together, but keeping a careful eye on Marion and Sylvie.

"Sylvie. Do you play this game all the time?" Marion was curious. Her friend laughed and shook her head.

"Not all the time. I'm not a PT."

"There you go again. What's a PT?"

"Marianne, your upbringing must have been very sheltered. A PT is a prick teaser. A girl who suggests she will when she won't."

"And you do?"

"If he's really nice and I fancy him. I do. I enjoy a good romp between the sheets and on top of them if we're in a hurry. Oh, here's Guy."

Guy made his way over to them and sat down. Threading his way between tables and customers needed care so he hadn't really taken in Marion until he sat down. His eyes widened in shock and admiration. Sylvie made the introduction.

"Guy. This is the lady you ran over this morning. Her name was Marion, but now she's Marianne." Guy recovered his wits. He lifted Marianne's hand and gently kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed her wrist.

"Marianne is a lovely name for a more than lovely woman. If I can meet a vision like you every time I crash my case my embarrassment will be a small price to pay. I am very pleased to meet you."

"After a speech like that, Guy. I feel I should forgive you everything." Marion felt pleased that she could reply with ease; she felt a little tingle that this rather good-looking young man thought she was a lovely woman. 

CHAPTER THREE

Hugo came over shortly after Guy had arrived and took their order. Telling Guy that he had lost him two customers. Guy was perplexed but Sylvie put him in the picture. She had seen the two men leave as soon as Guy sat down. He turned to Marion.

"The repairer says he can make the repair, but warned me that it will not last long as the only thing he can do is glue it. Therefore I owe you a pair of shoes." Marion smiled and put her hand on his arm.

"Don't worry about it, Guy. A day supposedly for window shopping has turned into an adventure. As you were the catalyst that started the adventure I should be thanking you."

"I must insist, Marianne." He used her pseudonym. "Adventure or not I was clumsy and the reparation has to be mine." Sylvie had followed this conversation and saw that Guy was astounded by the change in Marion and he was interested in her. She also saw the warmth in Marion's eyes as she talked with Guy.

"Well, Guy. If Marion will not let you pay for her new shoes, how about you take Marianne to Dinner one evening?" 

"What a great idea." Exclaimed Guy. "Perfect. What do you say, Marianne?"

Marion was silent. Marianne was tempted, but Marion's conscience reminded her that she was a married woman and it wouldn't be right. Then Marianne told her that Charles was away in Brussels next week and Guy would be a considerate escort without being pushy. She tried to resolve the conflict and her immediate reply was non-committal.

"I shall have to think about that." Sylvie smiled inwardly to herself. She was very sure that Marion would accept the invitation. She had said enough in their conversation earlier for Sylvie to guess that Marion's life was comfortable but mundane. As Marianne she could enjoy a little harmless flirtation.

The sandwiches they ordered now arrived and another glass of Chablis. Aware that she would have to drive at some time later this afternoon, Marion drank sparingly of the wine and enjoyed the Mozzarella and tomato sandwich. It enhanced her enjoyment of her two companions who loved each other, yet were disparaging of each other in equal proportions. She never had a brother or a sister so missed out on that love/hate relationship that was sibling rivalry. Sylvie and Guy had something a little better than merely siblings. They had no blood tie, had grown up together and viewed the other as simply a friend, although Marion caught hints that their friendship went a little further. They involved Marion in their conversation. They talked about their backgrounds and they teased out of Marion more of her history. They spoke candidly of theirs as well. Their background was military. Guy's father had been killed in the Falkland conflict. Sylvie's father had been there as well and it appeared that her father owed Guys' family a debt of honour. Becoming a widower and knowing Guy's mother well, after a decent time had elapsed he paid court to her and she became his wife, thereby bringing the two bereaved families together. Guy was treated as his son in all ways. 

They enjoyed the hospitality of Hugo for most of the afternoon. Marion had not considered the time at all as she was quite happy to sit and chat with her new friends. However she was horrified when she glanced casually at her watch. It was half past three! 

"I am so sorry, but I shall have to leave." Sylvie understood, picked up her purse and stood up.

"Come on, we will change you back to Marion so you don't give your husband a heart attack." Marion took a deep breath and turned to Guy.

"Thank you for your invitation to dinner. I would like that. It will have to be next week though."

"I am delighted, Marianne. I suspect that you will be uncomfortable if I phone you, so if you call Sylvie she will pass the message on to me. Just name the evening, and I shall be your humble servant." Marion smiled. He had made her smile quite a lot this afternoon.

Guy escorted them to the Boutique then left them. With her make-up returned to its usual appearance and dressed in her normal clothes, Marion watched wistfully as Sylvie hung up the dress.

"Will you pack that dress, Sylvie? I'll take it with me. I will need to get something for this dinner Guy has promised me. I am sure you will have something suitable and I need to settle with you, for the shoes and the dress." Sylvie smiled; she was expecting something like this.

"Leave the dress with me; I'll get it pressed. Don't worry about settling just yet, we can sort that out later when you aren't in a rush. Oh! And in the meantime I'll look for something for your date."

"It's not a date. It's just Guy buying me dinner as an apology." 

"Is that so?" Sylvie enquired. "It seems to me more about two friends having an intimate evening."

"Rubbish." Cried Marion. "It's making amends. That's all."

"Of course." Her friend told her smiling as if there was a private joke. "Guy will be the perfect gentleman." She paused. "If you want him to be."

"Sylvie!"

As she drove back from Frant Marion's mind was turbulent. Regretting her impulsive agreement to have dinner with Guy at one moment and the next minute looking forward to an evening spent with a handsome, amusing young man who would give her his complete attention. She rationalised the situation. Charles did take her out to dine from time to time, but they were always in company, others from the Department or people who Charles wished to cultivate. She couldn't remember the last time they had dined out just as a couple. Could she excuse dinner with a friend whilst Charles was in Brussels? Why not? Guy was just a friend. Charles would no doubt be dining with others and there was a distinct probability that some of those would be women.

Charles was very distracted for the rest of that week so much so that he didn't ask of Marion how her day in Tunbridge went. He usually brought home some papers over the weekend, but now he was bringing them home every evening. After Dinner he would retire to his study and read them all. They had little conversation apart from the usual greetings and chat over the meal. Marion asked him if the Brussels business was important.




Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly



"Yes, my dear. We have to decide the subsidies for fruit farmers over the next financial year. There is a certain amount in the budget and the French, as usual are trying to bag it all."

"That seems unfair."

"Not according to the French. Their argument will be that as they have more fruit farmers than anyone else, they should have the Lion's share. Of course what they don't tell you is that they are counting as fruit farmers even the smallest of plots as small as half an acre, with ten apple trees. Thus they can subsidise inefficient farming that under normal circumstances would not be viable. The French view the EU as a Piggy Bank into which they can dip whenever it suits. Unfortunately it's mainly us and the Germans who fill the Piggy Bank!"

"They don't admit that, do they?"

"Oh no. We know that and they possibly know that we know, but it will never be discussed openly."

"Why? Why can't you challenge them with it?"

"Politics, my dear. The Foreign Office doesn't want it known just how much we know about them."

"It sounds as if you are treating them as an enemy." Charles looked at her in astonishment.

"Marion! They are the enemy. They always have been, even when they were supposed to be on our side. We have been fighting them one way or another for nearly a thousand years!"

Marion knew that if she asked more questions Charles would harangue her with a long speech so wisely she left it there, although she did wonder how he would ever get to an accommodation with the French given his attitude.

Being a good wife, she had everything ready for him and his cases packed by Friday. Senior Civil Servants didn't travel as other folk travelled. When Charles boarded the Eurostar at St. Pancras for Brussels he would only carry his brief case. His accompanying under-secretary would carry the diplomatic bag. The cases Marion had packed were collected by a Government car on Saturday and would be driven to Brussels with a security man. There his clothes would be unpacked, pressed if necessary and hung up by a Valet from the Embassy. Charles would be insulated from the petty procedures that ordinary travellers had to endure day in and day out. The only one who would travel with less concern would be the Minister, an elected representative who knew even less than the Civil Servants who advised him. The discussion didn't need a Minister, but if he were not there the other nations attending would be deeply offended. Charles had spoken of the ineffectual presence of the politicians quite a lot. She smiled to herself. Civil Service it may be, but thoughts most uncivil were endemic.

With her husband gone, Marion gave some thought to what evening would suit for her dinner engagement. It didn't take long for her to decide on Wednesday evening. If she chose the Monday she would appear too eager; Thursday would look as if she didn't care, so Wednesday was just right. She phoned Sylvie on Monday just after nine in the morning.

"Hello Sylvie, its Marion Urquhart."

"Hi Marion. How are you?"

"I am well, thank you. I have thought about Guy's invitation and if it's convenient for him I thought Wednesday evening would suit. Could you ask him for me, or give me a number where I can contact him?"

"One moment, Marion." She put the phone down. Marion heard movement, a door opening and then a loud knocking. She heard another door open then some muffled voices and then more footsteps. Finally the phone was picked up.

"Marianne!" It was Guy.

Marion was flustered. Her immediate thought was that Sylvie and Guy lived together, a little flame of jealousy flickered until common sense told her that Guy meant nothing to her.

"Oh! Guy. You surprised me."

"Sorry about that, Marianne. Of course! We didn't tell you. Our Flats are next door to each other. So Sylvie just knocked on my door when you phoned."

"That's convenient." She answered tonelessly.

"Yes." Guy went on. "The family owned the building so when it became vacant it seemed sensible to convert the top floor into Flats for us. Sylvie took over the ground floor for her boutique."

"What do the family say about that arrangement?"

"Well, apart from Mum, Sylvie and I are the family now. Mum has the third Flat. So we can keep an eye on her."

"And she on you, presumably." Guy laughed.

"Well if she does she never says anything. Sylvie tells me that I will have the pleasure of your company for dinner on Wednesday evening. I am looking forward to it."

"So am I, Guy. I can't be too late as I will have to catch the train back to Frant. I can never find anywhere to park in Tunbridge."

"No problem. We have parking at the back of the building. That's if you wish to drive in."

"If that isn't a problem for you. It would suit me very well."

"I'll book a table. But for now Sylvie is hopping up and down so I suspect she wants to talk. I'll see you Wednesday evening. What time?"

"Say seven?"

"Seven it is."

Sylvie came back to the phone. 

"Hello again Marion." Then the phone shifted and Marion heard her say. "Off you go, Guy. This is girl talk, nothing to do with you." Marion heard Guy mutter something and the door closing. Then Sylvie was back.

"I've got a lovely dress for you; it's very, very Marianne. He'll be salivating all evening."

"Now Sylvie. I saw some of your dresses, and they seemed to show a great deal of the wearer's body with very little fabric. I don't wear stuff like that and I am not intending to get Guy salivating all evening. It's not what you seem to imagine."

"Would I do that to you? No it's what Marianne would wear, suggesting but not showing, sophisticated and cool, although your escort will be heated."

"Sylvie!" Marion warned. Sylvie giggled.

"Don't worry; I was just teasing a little." She became businesslike. "Now you're going to park behind the building I gather. Do you remember the way here?"

"Yes, well from the station I do. I shall be coming in from the south so I can make a detour to the station and from there I shall be fine."

"Come past the Boutique and you will see an entrance about fifty yards further on. Turn right into that and then turn right through the ornate iron gates. That's ours, so park anywhere. I'll look out for you and come out. Guy is collecting you at seven, so I suggest you get here about five, and then I can get you made up and dressed. Is that ok?"

"I think so."

"Good. See you then."

Marion didn't expect Charles to phone. He explained that these conferences would often go on into the evenings and almost every Embassy would give receptions after the day's business was done vying with each other to provide better food and Champagne. Of course the French Embassy would win the Champagne contest without problem. His not phoning didn't concern her, however for the next two days her nerves had taken over and whenever she had an idle moment her stomach would perform somersaults. Then the ingrained lessons of her youth would tell her that it would be discourteous to let Guy and Sylvie down, especially Sylvie as she had gone to a lot of trouble for her. Sighing deeply she reconciled herself to going. That Wednesday afternoon she took a long bath. At least she hadn't needed to make an appointment with the hairdresser. For many years she had kept her dark hair short and wore it close to her head, being easy to manage that way. A simple vigorous brushing was all she normally needed. Dressing simply in a frock she picked up her bag and with butterflies abounding in her stomach left the house to drive to Tunbridge.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sylvie was waiting for her as she negotiated the tight turn through the ornate gates and indicated for Marion to park next to a black Range Rover. Marion put the drive into Park and got out.

"Hello Marion." Called Sylvie. "You found us alright?"

"No problem. I got worried about the narrow lane just there and those gates but apart from that it was fine."

"Come on in and I'll get you a drink. Wine, Tea or Coffee?"

"Tea please." 

Sylvie showed her through the door. A more imposing door than Marion would think suitable for the back door of a retail outlet. Immediately inside Sylvie turned left and took her though another door into the Salon and then into the changing area. 

"Make yourself comfortable and I'll get us the tea." Marion took a seat on one of the settees. Sylvie wasn't long and soon returned with a tray bearing the cups, saucers and the tea pot.

"You're going to love this little dress." She told Marion.

"If your emphasis is on little, then I won't wear it." They both laughed and Sylvie shook her head.

"No not in that sense, although I have got some that are so little you will be showing an awful lot of flesh. No it's a little black dress, but really nice. Now what about your legs? Stockings or nude?"

"I thought tights." Marion indicated the ones she was wearing.

"Ugh! No, no. Stockings then." She stopped and thought. "On second thoughts, it's a bit warm tonight and sussies could become a little uncomfortable. I think bare legs will be best. Are you tanned?" Marion shook her head.

"Not too much."

"Ok." Sylvie came to a decision. "I'll do your legs with fake tan, and then we'll do the make-over. Come along Cinderella, you shall go to the Ball tonight." Marion laughed.

"I don't know about Cinderella, I feel more like Lamb to the slaughter."

Sylvie was determined to bring Marion into the twenty first century and in the face of that determination Marion had no defence. In the beauty parlour she was quickly stripped out of her dress revealing her utility bra and panties and her tights.

"How does your husband manage to undress you with those things on?" Sylvie gestured to the tights as she pulled them down and off.

"Charles has never undressed me." Marion replied tightly. "I can do that for myself." Sylvie shook her head.

"So can I. But if your man undresses you it's a lot more fun."

"Fun?"

"Yes. They gently take your clothes off, touching and kissing the skin that is gradually revealed, getting you all hot and tingly, and then when you are naked they look at you with wonder in their eyes; you know they are hard and wanting you. It's a marvellous feeling." Marion was quiet and Sylvie instinctively knew that she had never experienced that particular pleasure.

Marion relaxed in the chair as her legs were sprayed with fake tan. While the spray dried Sylvie buffed and filed her toenails and then packed between her toes with cotton wool before painting them with a rich red nail polish. 

"Is that necessary?" She enquired. Sylvie nodded.

"Oh yes. The colour will draw attention to your feet. You have well shaped feet and ankles so use them." Sylvie finished the work. "Now stay still and let them dry. I'll get some more tea, and then we'll start on your face."

An hour later Marion was made up. The transformation was as total as before and she was just as surprised as before. Sylvie looked pleased as well but regarding her friend she suddenly frowned. She left the room for a couple of minutes then came back with a cellophane packet containing something black and lacy.

"Try these on, will you." She asked as she opened the packet.

"What are they?"

"French cut panties. They will work better with the dress I've put out for you; no VPL and they will be more comfortable." She left the room so that Marion could not argue. She knew about VPL, the Finishing School was very strict about visible panty line. Heaving a sigh Marion did as she was requested, or indeed ordered. Sylvie was right; they were more comfortable and cooler.

A few minutes later Sylvie returned. She called out before coming into the parlour.

"Decent?"

"They appear decent in the mirror, but I don't feel decent." Sylvie came into the room carrying a dress.

"That's what they should do. You know, but he doesn't that the treasure is easy to get to. It's a little feminine wile. A sort of one up thing. Now this is the dress. Try it on. Oh and take that bra off. You don't need it." The dress was black and at first it appeared to Marion to be quite proper until with Sylvie's help she drew it up her body, then she blushed. It fitted well, the length was right for her, just to her knees, it had three-quarter sleeves and the bodice came up to her neck, which she approved. However the bodice consisted of two halves which almost met, just being held together by a clip at the top and another just under her breasts. It didn't gap more than an inch at any place but the gap went almost to her waist. In horror she turned to Sylvie who flattened her objections before she voiced them.

"Marianne. You look fantastic in that. Shit! I wished I had your figure."

"But...But." Marion indicated the décolletage. Her Guru indicated that she should turn slightly sideways and then back the other way.

"You're showing no more than if you were in a bathing costume. You're so lucky. If I wore that dress with my boobs it would leave nothing to anyone's imagination. It's exactly what you need; suggestive without showing and sophisticated." Marion was still a little unconvinced. She walked through to the changing room and standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in there she practised turning sideways, bending and moving her arms to see what effect it had. Eventually she had to acknowledge that Sylvie, who had followed her, was right and turning to see that smug smile laughed.

"Ok. I shall not be showing off my bits and pieces."

"Guy will be very disappointed. Perhaps next time you will get a little more adventurous.

"What do you mean, next time?"

"If I were Guy, I wouldn't be satisfied with just one evening."

The last part of the transformation was the shoes, the cfms. Silver sandals with a three inch heel, they had a bar across the foot leaving her toes bare, and the buckle straps fastened round her leg just above her ankles. Marion walked up and down getting used to them, the bar emphasised the red of her toe nails. Sylvie stood back and surveyed her creation.

"Perfect. Now you really are Marianne." Was her comment. "You'll wow them tonight." Marion looked doubtful about that, but secretly was very happy with the effect.

"Now I must owe you quite a bit." She delved into her handbag and found her credit card which she proffered to Sylvie. "Don't tell me how much, just run it through and I'll sign."

"It's not that much, Marianne. I suppose four hundred would cover it."

"Sylvie! I didn't come off the last banana boat. It has to be more than that." Sylvie shook her head in denial.

"No. Honestly four hundred will cover it. You're a friend now and I don't make a profit out of my friends. In addition it's my brother who's taking you out and I like to think of him being struck dumb for a change."

"Will he be?" Marion enquired archly.

"Oh yes. He will be." 

Guy was indeed struck dumb. Sylvie and Marianne walked to the door at five past seven. Fashionably late. Guy was waiting. It took him a minute to find his voice.

"Marianne. If Millais was alive now he would paint you. You are so lovely." Marianne smiled.

"Thank you, Guy." He opened the door of the Range Rover. The lessons Marion had on getting into and out of cars didn't cover the Range Rover, but she managed to seat herself decorously with Guy holding her hand as she did so. Before closing the door Sylvie leaned in and kissed Marianne on the cheek.

"Have a great time." She whispered.

CHAPTER FIVE

Marion got into her bed at half past midnight surrounded by an aura of good feelings. She couldn't believe that a meal could be such a great experience and so different to her dining experience with Charles. Charles was very formal especially when he was with others from the Department. They were very formal too and the conversation was usually work orientated. They would talk about people that Marion and the other wives didn't know and find wit in the most obscure references frequently making comments in Latin which she didn't understand. The table was always traditional the sexes seated alternately and husbands seated apart from wives. 

Guy tonight had shown her a different world, a world where a man could converse with a lady, giving her his complete attention. A world where he would ask and listen to her, really listen to her being interested in what she had to say. He didn't dismiss her arguments as foolishness, taking her points and asking her to illustrate her ideas. He was amusing with a droll sense of humour; he made fun of people's habits but was never hurtful as he made fun of his own idiosyncrasies as well. She was warmed by his frequent compliments, making her feel like a precious jewel to be admired and cosseted. He was cheeky in equal measure, taking every opportunity to view her from the side. She knew why and chastised him and then laughed at his reply.

"Marianne, would not any man try to catch a tiny glimpse of Heaven if he could?" Guy later admitting that her dress was too well cut to satisfy his curiosity. When she was about to get into her car to drive home, he caught her gently by the shoulders and kissed her lips softly. It wasn't a demanding kiss yet still asked a question. Marion would need to answer that question although she wasn't certain what it was. As she snuggled into bed her libido asked her wouldn't she like to kiss him again and perhaps reward him with a better view of her breasts at some time? Marion would say no, but Marianne told her yes, the look of wonder and delight on his face would make her feel so good. 

Charles arrived home earlier than she thought on Friday afternoon. It would appear that the discussions broke up on Thursday evening as the Italians had to get back to Rome, something to do with yet another constitutional crisis with their Prime Minister. As usual the car had collected him from St. Pancras station and brought him home despite the fact that some Eurostar services stopped at Ashford in Kent, just thirty miles away. The car made a round trip of over a hundred miles the attitude being that they had the car and the driver who would be paid anyway so it made little difference. The Civil Service, along with many other organisations including the BBC seem to believe that London was the be all and end all in the United Kingdom. The only place that mattered; that they only need concern themselves with what happened in the Metropolis and its environs. That weather forecasts and travel information for any other part of the Country were of little use or relevance. It would never occur to them that travellers from abroad would have an interest in any other destination than London. Therefore the Ashford stop was ignored. 

As she hadn't been certain of his arrival time, Marion had prepared a cold meal of Salmon and salad. Over the meal she asked Charles how the negotiations were going.

"We haven't started the negotiations yet." He told her with despair in his voice. "The week has been taken up by opening statements by all member States. They won't be finished until the middle of next week. You know how these Politicians like to hog any glimmer of Limelight. They will leave when that is done and let us get down to the real business."

"Oh so you haven't tackled the French yet."

"No, my dear. That will come later, although we have got a shot to fire across their bows. We have had some quiet talks and agreed with the Germans that we will push for a strict definition of what is a Fruit farm. The Germans think that it should not be described as such if there is less than five acres given over permanently to fruit growing. We favour ten acres but will settle for five if we have to."

"And what will the French say about that?" 

"They will not say anything at first, well not until they have got over their apoplectic fit. Then they will retire, to take advice." Charles smiled at the thought.




Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly



Charles left again on the Sunday. One of his departing comments was that he thought the negotiations would probably go on for at least a week longer than he originally thought. Marion was not too disturbed at that news. This was unusual for her, her life had hitherto revolved around Charles, his needs, his work and his habits; yet within a week or two she had seen a glimpse of another life. This other life would not be a replacement but rather one that could be lived from time to time. Marion would always be here for Charles and Marianne would emerge from the chrysalis to flutter brightly but briefly. Sylvie's words had struck home to her. There was more to life than the dull routine. With that thought in mind she picked up the phone on Monday to talk to Sylvie.

"Marion! It's so good to hear from you. I won't ask how your evening with Guy went. He hasn't stopped talking about you since."

"Oh! Did I disappoint?"

"Not at all. He told me he had never talked with such an interesting woman before. He also said one more beautiful. He's in thrall to you."

"I enjoyed the evening. Guy was so different to any man in the circles I know. He actually listened to me." 

"So, Marion. Are you going out with him again?"

"Does he want to?"

"Of course he does."

"Well in that case I shall have to buy another dress from you. Any ideas?"

"Lots. But it will depend on you. When can you get here?"

"Any time this week."

"Make it Thursday. I have a new supplier who showed me some rather outrageous dresses. I'll get some in for you to look at."

"Sylvie. I don't want outrageous, I want sophisticated and very slightly naughty."

"Something that will slip off easily?"

"Sylvie!"

"I know, I know. Leave it with me. See you Thursday?"

"Yes. I shall be there."

CHAPTER SIX

Marion drove into Tunbridge confidently knowing where she could park. She managed the narrow entrance without problem and locked the car. There was an entry system adjacent to the door with signs for 'Flat 1', Flat 2' and 'Shop'. No flat three? Guy had told her that their mother lived in flat three. She pressed the button for 'Shop'. Sylvie opened the door, smiling as she did so. 

"Come on in, Marion. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you Sylvie."

Sylvie showed Marion in, and as before took a sharp left turn inside the entrance, chatting as she did so. 

"If you go straight on you come to the stairs that leads up to our flats. We can't do too much inside or outside the place as it's a listed building. We made this our front door as the parking area was at the back. The original front door leads in to the Boutique now. Come on through Marion and we'll have some coffee.

"Sylvie, I thought Guy told me that your mother lived in a flat here. I saw only buttons for flats one and two." Sylvie nodded.

"Yes. Mum's flat has a separate entrance."

"Oh. Is she here now?"

"No. She, well we have a villa in the Algarve. She spends most of her time there."

They chatted as Sylvie made the coffee. Marion mentioned that Charles was in Brussels and would only be home for the weekends.

"He says for the next three weeks, but I suspect that it will take longer than that." Sylvie turned and winked.

"So while the cat is away...?" Marion laughed. 

"What do you take me for? I'm a happily married woman."

"Of course you are."

Marion changed the subject.

"So where are these outrageous dresses you promised me?" 

"Yes. I'll go and get them, in the meantime why don't you get made up. It's all in the Parlour just help yourself. There's a strong possibility that Guy will join us for lunch and you will want to look your best."

"Sylvie. Why are you so keen to get me and Guy together?" Sylvie gave that some thought.

"I don't think that it was a conscious thought, more a reaction to what I saw when Guy joined us for lunch as Ugo's. You came alive, Marion. Your eyes sparkled and you flirted. I know Guy and he was just as interested as you were. That's why I made the suggestion that he take you to dinner. Where you go with him and what happens is up to you." Marion made no comment. Sylvie was right. She had felt a strong attraction to Guy. The more she had thought about it, the more she liked being Marianne. She didn't want to break up her marriage, but she thought that some excitement and colour in her life from time to time would be good. She smiled at Sylvie.

"Ok. Let's look at these dresses." Sylvie returned the smile and got up.

"Right. Let's see how daring Marianne can be."

Marion had just used some lipstick that morning and remembering how Sylvie had used the foundation and blusher she made herself up properly. Sylvie came in and stood behind her watching.

"You're being too subtle with the blusher." She commented. "Keep it light at first and then get more colour as you take it up to your cheekbones." Marion finally finished to Sylvie's satisfaction. "That's good! You've got the hang of it now." 

"It's odd." Marion mused. "At Finishing School they taught us how to make up, but not like this. Blusher? Lip gloss? They didn't say anything about those. Perhaps they thought that only loose women used those."

"Well if that's the case that puts me in that category." Sylvie grinned. "Happily!" Marion grinned with her.

"I'm warming to the idea." She replied wickedly.

The dresses were hanging in the changing room. Marion examined them with excitement. The one she really liked was a pale green with a handkerchief skirt. However the shawl neckline with multiple folds seemed to plunge to embarrassing depths. She held it against her, and looked in the mirror trying to imagine where the plunge would finish on her. Sylvie watched, saying nothing. It would be Marion's decision. Marion turned to Sylvie.

"I love this colour and the style, but I don't think I could wear something this revealing."

"You could wear a Pashmina round your shoulders and take it off when you are sitting with Guy, and then it would he alone who would enjoy the view."

"I don't even know it he is going to ask me out again."

"He will. I can guarantee that he will. Why don't you try it on?" Marion was tempted. She looked up and nodded smiling. She unbuttoned her frock preparing to slip it off.

"Take the bra off." Sylvie's tone was determined. Marion was about to argue then her mind said "Sod it".

The dress did fit very well. The handkerchief skirt dropped to within four inches her left ankle and rose just above her right knee. It was cut full with sufficient fabric to wrap over the exposure except when she sat down. Then the weight of the fabric slipped it away and exposed quite a lot of her thigh. The plunging neckline was not as bad as Marion had thought, finally closing at a point just below her breasts. However it gapped sufficiently to reveal the inside curve of her breasts. She turned sideways and was relieved that the cut was good enough not to reveal more.

"That looks absolutely stunning on you." Was Sylvie's comment. "The colour compliments your hair beautifully and it's perfect for your figure. Oh why was I given these balloons? I could never wear a dress like that. My boobs would be hanging out all the time." 

"Are you sure?" Enquired Marion. "There is more of me on show than I have ever shown."

"I'm sure, Marion. It emphasises your femininity. When I saw it I knew that it would be right for you. Classic, sophisticated with a dash of sexy and you do have very pretty breasts." Marion blushed at the intimate compliment

"Ok. All I have to do now is get Guy to ask me."

"I told you. He will. Shall we go and grab some lunch?"

Marion as Marianne strode proudly along with Sylvie towards Ugo's. She wore the dress she was wearing the first time she accompanied Sylvie and held her head high, her nipples pushing at the silk of her dress proudly. Hugo was delighted to see them and wafted them through the crowded premises to the table. With glasses of Chardonnay in front of them they talked.

"Does your boutique ever get busy?" Marion enquired. "When I have visited there isn't anyone else for you to help."

"It's early days at the moment. I get quite a few ladies for beauty treatments but that is usually on Fridays or Saturdays. That's when I can sell a few dresses and shoes as well. Mondays through to Thursdays are quiet though, and I only take clients by appointment on those days."

"Your merchandise is good. You won't get rich if you charge as you charged me." Sylvie laughed.

"Getting rich isn't the point. Guy and I inherited the building and most of the block as well so I don't pay rent for the place nor for the flat." She lowered her voice. "Actually we own this place too, but Hugo doesn't know. He pays rent to a company which owns the property. We own the Company and Guy runs the property business. He has an office three doors away from the Boutique. As for what I charge you, I told you I won't make a profit out of my friends and I hope Marianne that you are my friend."

"I think that goes without saying." Sylvie smiled.

"Good. I seem to have lots of acquaintances but no real friends. They seem to think that I will pinch their men-friends."

"As if!" Sylvie laughed delightedly.

"See. You know me well already."

They were interrupted by a male voice.

"The place is crowded, yet I saw these two lovely ladies sitting together and wondered if they would like some male company."

"Guy!" Guy bent down and kissed Marianne on the cheek then kissed Sylvie in the same manner who said with a laugh.

"If you really insist, Guy, you can join us, but I warn you. Don't get your hopes up, we are closet Lesbians." Marianne had picked up her glass as Sylvie said that and put it down quickly as she began to giggle. Then she shocked both of them.

"Well that brings back a memory." Sylvie and Guy both looked at her.

"What?" They exclaimed together. Marianne smiled.

"I will say just two words. Finishing School." Guy was frustrated.

"You can't leave it there."

"Oh yes I can. You will have to let your imagination picture the rest."

Their conversation followed that topic for the rest of the meal, with Sylvie and Guy trying to coax out of Marianne some details, which she steadfastly refused to divulge. As they walked back to the Boutique, Sylvie went on ahead allowing Guy the opportunity to speak alone to Marianne.

"I so enjoyed our evening together. I would love to repeat it. Would you be agreeable to that?"

"Yes Guy. I would."

"I am so pleased. Would Tuesday or Wednesday next week suit you?"

"Perhaps Tuesday. Shall we make the same arrangements?"

"That will be perfect. It seemed that we have still got much more to talk about. I was fascinated by our conversation. And now it seems I have to ask even more." Marianne's eyes twinkled.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Finishing School."

"You do surprise me. What interest would dull old Finishing School be to you?"

"You never know."

They arrived back at the Boutique. Guy inclined his head and kissed Marianne's lips. She put her hand on his arm to hold the kiss a little longer than their previous kiss.

"I look forward to Tuesday." He told her in parting.

"So do I, Guy." 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Marianne had quickly got used to the dress and the unusual but good feeling of freedom her breasts had. She had borrowed a Pashmina from Sylvie and that had been wrapped around her shoulders as they walked into the restaurant. She was pleased to see that the table was in an alcove so as soon as she was seated and with a confidence she didn't actually feel she let slip the Pashmina from her shoulders. Guy's expression made it worthwhile. His eyes widened, his pupils expanding rapidly and a warm smile split his lips.

"Marianne, you are undoubtedly the most beautiful of women. However I think I am sitting in the wrong place." His hand rested on the table and Marianne reached across and covered it with hers.

"Thank you, Guy. Where should you be sitting then?"

"Next to you, closer to Heaven."

Throughout the meal Marianne gained confidence, the look of wonder never left Guy's face and she was starting to enjoy his eyes wandering over what little he could see of her breasts. Then there was the attention of the waiter, who had a better view when standing at her side, she could tell her escort was becoming peeved at the tardiness the waiter showed when he served her. Guy drove the Range Rover back and parked alongside the Jaguar. He got out came round the front of the car and opened Marianne's door.

"Marianne it has been a superb evening and your looking so lovely was the sole reason for that. I didn't taste the food at all. You filled my senses all the time, Thank you." He took her hand and started to escort her to the Jaguar. Marianne took a deep breath and asked.

"Am I going home, is the evening over?" Guy stopped and looked into her eyes. His question was unspoken and her reply was also unspoken. 

"Coffee?"

"That would be nice." He nodded.

His flat was very well furnished and although furnished as a single man would furnish was nonetheless not obviously a Bachelor pad. There were good modern landscapes on the wall and some vases of fresh flowers scented the air. The furniture was good solid English traditional and highly polished.

"Have a look around and I'll make some coffee." Marianne wandered around. She noticed a few framed photographs on a bureau and examined them. She recognised a young Guy and a young Sylvie with a couple who she suspected would be his mother and Sylvie's father. She was very pretty and he stood straight backed his military background obvious. Then there were other photographs one of an Army officer who had a lot of Guy about him. She guessed that it was Guy's father who was killed. Guy came back into the main room with two mugs of coffee and Marianne moved to meet him in the middle of the room. He put the coffee down and went to her, taking her in his arms. Her head came up and she offered her mouth, his lips joined hers as her arm circled his neck holding him in the embrace. Her mouth opened slightly and Guy accepted her offer with his tongue. The kiss went on and on. Marion had never been kissed like this before. Reluctantly their lips parted. Marianne had decided during the meal that she would give herself to him. Smiling at Guy and with a little fear and a pounding heart she asked him.

"Would you like to undress me, Guy?"

Marion guided the car into her drive in the early hours. She had enjoyed the drive back from Tunbridge, it seemed as if the car reflected her mood, purring softly as she was and then when she pressed down on the accelerator it growled like the big cat of its namesake. The sky was just starting to lighten, turning from black to a greyish blue with a promise of another fine day when she arrived home. Too excited to go to bed she walked through and looked out over the garden, the double glazing of the patio doors reflecting her image. On a whim she slipped out of her dress and regarded the reflection, speaking as Marion to Marianne, her Alta ego.

"I have been you for thirty six years and never knew you were in me, never imagined that our body could give us so much pleasure. I have screamed in ecstasy and used words I have never used before. I feel as if I have just been released from prison and the good things in life are there for my taking." Marion slid open the doors and stepped out, naked but for her French Panties and with her arms spread wide embraced the morning and the feel of cool air on her skin. Even that teased her hypersensitive flesh reminding her of the touch of Guy's hands and tongue on her earlier. The remembrance of his tongue started a slow flow of emission between her legs. She had been shocked when he had placed his head between her thighs, but the first touch of his tongue had banished all the teaching that this was unnatural. Far from it, it was the most natural and beautiful of kisses and she reacted to it. Her face flushed as she recalled. That was the second climax he had shared with her. The first was just his fingers, so knowingly finding places on her body that she had never thought could be erogenous. The third was also upon his tongue and the fourth was when he filled her. How glorious that was, as this beautiful man took control of her centre and with his heat and hardness carried her to Nirvana. She understood now why men and women put such importance on making love. Good sex was a drug, you took it once and from then on you had to give yourself gladly to it again and again.

She went upstairs and started to run a bath. She needed to get back to normality at the same time questioning what normality really was. As she relaxed in the hot water her mind started to put things in place. Marion had been and still was a calm reasoned person, and what had happened was undoubtedly not something that the reasoned Marion would do. She cast her mind back a few weeks and her yearning for something. Was this the something she desired? Could she remain Marion and allow Marianne to emerge from time to time to find the excitement that was missing from Marion's life? Then of course there was Charles. She knew she couldn't hide her attachment forever, but could she hide it long enough to take her fill of excitement and call an end to it? How would Guy react if she told him that it was over; how would he react if she told him that this was just for fun and not serious? There were many questions with few answers. Her musing could not answer them now so she put them aside for the moment. Answers would come eventually and she would handle them when it happened.

Marion's upbringing had focussed a great deal on not showing your feelings; the essence of 'sang-froid', a French phrase which seemed to apply particularly to the English. So it was natural to her to disguise her thoughts. 

She didn't need that pose when Charles returned home on Friday; he was in a foul mood, more concerned with the negotiations than his wife's well-being. It would appear that the shot across the French bows had been circumvented by the Spanish, Italians and Greeks; who wanted to include their Olive groves as fruit farming.

"In Horticultural terms Olives are, of course fruit." He ranted. "But they are mainly for producing cooking oil. If we allow that there will be little of the budget left for anybody else. Even the French are worried about it." Marion was amused. It would appear the subsidies were not so much about helping farmers but more about getting an advantage over the other members of the Union. So much for European collaboration! Such was his mood that Marion poured him a drink. He was particularly fond of Islay single Malt. 

He looked at her fondly as she gave him the tumbler.

"Marion, you are the perfect wife for me, thank you. It just shows how right our marriage was, I just wish..." He stopped there.

"What were you going to say, Charles?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing of consequence." Marion sensed the discomfort brought about by his unguarded remark. Diplomatically she steered the conversation in a different direction.

"Do you think the negotiations will be finished soon?" She enquired.

"I doubt it. We haven't even got to the stage of quotas." He seemed relieved. "This argument about Olives will probably take all of next week if I'm not mistaken. Once that is resolved we still have to define what a fruit farm is and what it isn't. If the definition we agree is substantially different as to the present then everyone will have to submit amended statistics, which will need to be verified. Only then can we start on the business of actually deciding the subsidies. I suspect my dear that it is going to be at least another three to four weeks."

"You will need a holiday when it's over." He brightened.

"Marion, you are right. We'll go up to Scotland for a week or so. You always enjoy that." Marion's thoughts were of somewhere sunny and hot, but Charles liked Scotland and had taken her acquiescence in the past as proof that she enjoyed the area as much as he did.




Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly



After their meal he went to his study. Marion put the dishes in the washer and sat down wondering what Charles had intended to say. Was he going to mention his sadness that they had no children? They had never discussed it at all. The issue was merely put quietly aside. Marion had a consultation with the Doctor she had used before marriage. She went privately and he had made all the tests. The results confirmed that Marion wasn't the problem. Ergo, Charles was the problem. If he was aware of this he had never said anything, but then he wouldn't. It would be too serious a blow to his self-esteem to admit that. These thoughts led her to another thought. Guy! Neither of them had given a thought to contraception. The eagerness to join had overcome all practical thoughts. She didn't worry too much as she was only two days beyond her last period, but for the future? She hoped there would be a repeat so she needed to do something about that. She would see the Doctor again and get a prescription for the pill. Happily anticipating that she would need it.

Marion had packed Charles's cases even before he came home on Friday, so when the car came on Saturday everything was ready for transport to Brussels. Charles was appreciative of the care she took and presented her with a very nice three strand Pearl necklace. She thanked him profusely. Charles's ideas for presents were very limited; this was the third Pearl necklace he had given her! Perhaps she could persuade him towards Diamonds, but then she thought not. English ladies of a certain class traditionally wore pearls and Charles was definitely a man for tradition. 

He left for Brussels as usual on Sunday just after lunch. Marion was now torn, should she phone Sylvie or leave it until Monday? Excitement got the better of her and she phoned, hoping that Sylvie would be at home. She was.

"Marion! It's great to hear from you. I was wondering if you would phone. Are you coming to see us soon?"

"I thought I may."

"Good. Guy is walking around like a dog with two tails. What did you do to him? Don't answer that. I probably know. Come tomorrow. I won't open the Boutique and we can have a day gossiping and relaxing." Sylvie's ebullience was catching and Marion agreed.

"Ok. I will be there. It will be about ten, is that alright?"

"Perfect. I'll put the coffee on."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sylvie's broad smile welcomed her when Marion parked in the yard.

"Come on in. We'll go upstairs and have some coffee." She led the way, although Marion knew the way from a previous, enchanting visit. Sylvie's flat was slightly different and certainly more feminine, but Guy's masculine flat had an emotional pull for Marion. Sylvie pointed to an overgrown sofa. Marion imagined that it would seat at least four people abreast and the seats were so deep that she could not sit back and keep her feet on the floor. Sylvie demonstrated her method of sitting when she sat down with her coffee. Her back against the side cushion and her legs curled up.

Having made herself comfortable, Sylvie asked the question she was burning to ask.

"Now. Tell me all about Tuesday. Just an outline, I have a fair idea of later." Marion bristled a little, had Guy been indiscreet? Sylvie saw the face that Marion wore and hastened to re-assure her.

"Guy hasn't said anything, if you're wondering. He wouldn't. He's a gentleman. I heard you and he coming up the stairs and I noticed that you didn't leave until three-thirty. I'm a very light sleeper you see. I don't imagine you were playing Scrabble all that time." Marion looked at Sylvie who looked back at her and simultaneously their faces started twitching, then smiling, then giggling until both of them were laughing. Marion put her coffee down before she spilled it. The laughter was cathartic and Marion's habitual control vanished.

"I didn't know anything could be so good." Sylvie nodded and absentmindedly commented.

"Guy is pretty special." The look that Marion gave her then was one of shock.

"You haven't?" Sylvie grinned and nodded. "But you are brother and sister!"

"Yeah." Sylvie agreed. "But not blood relatives. We grew up together, we got curious together, explored together and learned together. I enjoyed it and so did he. And we sort of have a re-union from time to time."

"So I should be thanking you as well." Marion was not really shocked by the revelation or jealous, just surprised a little.

"No. It takes two to make it memorable. You have as much to do with it than any of Guy's perceived skills." She thought for a moment. "Probably more. He was sitting opposite to you at the table and you looked so gorgeous in that dress and he was getting teased with glimpses of your breasts. It must have blown his blood pressure over the top, I am surprised you managed to get here with the dress still on." Marion thought back to that evening.

"Yes. I did tease him. I seem to have found an exhibitionist streak in me. I kept turning slightly and leaning forward showing him just a little bit more of my breast. He seemed to like it."

Sylvie burst out laughing. Repeating Marion's last words.

"He seemed to like it! Oh Marion, that is the understatement of the century. He would have loved it." Sylvie was quiet as she sipped her coffee. Then she asked. "Where do you want to go from here? I mean with Guy." 

Marion had already thought about that.

"I would be telling a lie if I said anything other than I want more." She thought how to phrase her next words. "My marriage is good in every way except physically. When Charles realised that we wouldn't have children he withdrew from me. I didn't have a problem with that. I was brought up believing that sex between husband and wife was an inconvenience that wives had to accept and what I had with Charles was a very simple act. I didn't know any different. What Guy did for me, with me and to me shattered my perceived ideas completely. I would find life very mundane if I could not experience that again." Sylvie got up and brought the coffee pot over. 

"More?" Marion smiled her thanks.

With their coffee replenished Sylvie came back to the subject.

"Who's fault was it? I mean not having children."

"Charles."

"Then it was rather selfish of him, wasn't it?"

"Yes and no. We were never a love-match. Our marriage is more of a rational merger. He needed a wife who he could trust at society functions, who could entertain his business associates, who knew how to behave. A wife who would keep his home well so that he didn't have to worry about clean socks, shirts etcetera. I was taught to do all of that. I was not brought up to work for a living so I needed a husband who would always support me. Charles would do that and give me a good life. Our marrying was a logical decision. Over the years I suppose we have come to love each other, but probably more like brother and sister but never passionate lovers."

"So, are you telling me that you don't want out of your marriage, but if you could have Guy as an occasional lover, that would be good for you?"

"I suppose so, yes." Sylvie' face lit up.

"Oh good. Guy was very concerned that you may want more of him than an evening out and a romp in bed."

"We didn't romp. We oozed, well I did anyway." Sylvie's laughter rang from the ceiling.

Marion was pleased as their conversation had resolved one of the issues she thought may have been a little difficult. She was also relieved that it would appear that Guy was keen to see more of her. She giggled when she realised that Guy had seen all of her anyway. 

"What was that giggle about?" Sylvie wanted to know.

"Just a little naughty thought." 

"Hmm. Speaking of naughty thoughts. Tell me about Finishing School."

"I wondered when you would get to that."

"Well go on then."

"There's not much to tell. We were all about the same age and like me we all had a very sheltered upbringing. We shared two to a room and the girl I was sharing with, Justine was very homesick. I think she cried herself to sleep for the first week. She was still weepy even after that and one night she asked if she could get into bed with me. It became a habit after that and at first we would just whisper to each other then one night she kissed me."

"Go on." Urged Sylvie. "What happened next?" Marion shrugged her shoulders.

"Not much more. We would kiss and caress each other. She was fascinated with my breasts. Which at that time were about the same size as they are now. Justine didn't have anything then. That was it really."

"You cheat! You led us to believe that you had a lesbian relationship." Sylvie laughed. "But did you enjoy it?"

"I didn't find it distasteful. It was comforting in a way." Sylvie looked at her watch.

"Shall we go to lunch? We have some time to change if you like?"

"Will Guy join us?"

"He knows you are here today, so I suspect that the old adage about Wild Horses applies." Sylvie wore a broad smile.

Sylvie had changed into a dress as well, and two very attractive ladies stepped into Ugo's. Both wore cfm's, silver for Marianne and white for Sylvie. Their dresses seemed to waft in the breeze as they walked offering glimpses of leg and thigh and in Marianne's case the outline of unfettered breasts. Hugo was very happy to greet them as Monday could be a little slow for trade. He took them to the table where Guy sat, having arrived five minutes before. He got to his feet as they approached and kissed them both, Sylvie's cheek but Marianne's lips.

"You're eager." Was Sylvie's opening remark.

"Not at all. A gentleman should always arrive first." Sylvie grinned as the perfect riposte offered itself.

"No Guy. A gentleman should always wait until his lady has arrived, and arrived, and arrived. Isn't that so Marianne?"

"If that is so, I should say that Guy is the perfect gentleman." Marianne was getting used to their banter and innuendo. Guy bowed his head to her.

"My Lady is too kind." 

Hugo arrived with their drinks and took the order. Guy then enquired if they had a good morning.

"Yes Guy. We did. We trashed you unmercifully for keeping Marianne out so late." Sylvie couldn't resist a dig. Guy sat back with a smile on his face.

"Time flew so quickly, you see. I enjoyed Marianne's company greatly."

"And I enjoyed your company, Guy.

"Well in that case." Sylvie interrupted their mutual admiration. "Should we make an arrangement for Wednesday evening? Jason will be here and I thought we could all go out together."

"Who is Jason?" Marianne was guarded. Guy replied.

"He's a friend of mine from way back. Sylvie seems to think he is her fiancé. But I am not sure if he knows about it yet."

"Not true." Cried Sylvie. "We go out together from time to time. That's all. Anyway. What do you think?"

"Marianne. Are you happy about this?" Guy enquired. Marianne thought about it for two seconds maximum.

"I would like that."

"Great! I'll make the arrangements. We'll go to Abacus."

Back in the Sylvie's flat she and Marianne discussed dresses.

"Any ideas, Marianne?"

"No. I quite liked that green dress, but couldn't wear it again for while. Perhaps..." She tailed off thinking.

"Go on." Urged Sylvie.

"Would Marianne get a little more daring?" Sylvie didn't have to think at all.

"Oh yes. That's the problem of being female; you have got to inspire the male of the species all the time. If he keeps getting little glimpses of you, it concentrates his mind on what he may get to enjoy later and then he won't go looking at other women." She thought for a moment. "Possibly I have the perfect dress for you. I don't know if you have the courage to wear it though."

"Why? What is it like?"

"It's like a Greek Chiton in cream Muslin. Would you like to see it?"

"I like the sound of that, yes please."

They made their way downstairs and went into the Boutique. Switching on the lights as she made her way through to the showroom Sylvie chattered relentlessly, telling Marianne what she intended to wear. 

"I'm going long. Long in length and long in neckline. It will come down to here." She indicated a point just lower than her navel. "Jason will be in no doubt that I shall require an extraordinary performance from him later." Marianne giggled.

"I hope the walls of your flat are soundproof." Sylvie winked.

"Oh yes." She was going through the ranks of hanging dresses as she spoke. She pulled out the one she would wear and hung the hanger on a hook then carried on searching. "Ah! Found you." She cried. Marianne looked at the dress with gathering excitement. "Want to try it on?" Sylvie asked. Her friend nodded smiling as she did so.

"Yes."

The dress was perfect if a little more revealing than Marianne had anticipated. The plain front and back were held at the shoulders by lace ties, which Guy would delight in releasing she thought. The waist was cinched by a gold chain and the skirt dropped to her knees. However there was a side split that rose to the top of her thigh. The front and back of the bodice simply hung from the ties to where the gold chain pulled them together at her waist. If she lifted her arms to shoulder height then her breasts would be exposed from the side. She gave it a lot of thought then with a deep breath told Sylvie. "Yes." Sylvie was pleased then added.

"Of course for the full effect you shouldn't wear anything under it." Marianne was aware she couldn't wear a bra so looked at Sylvie questioningly. Sylvie confirmed Marianne's suspicions.

"No Panties either. I think a thong is required."

CHAPTER NINE

Guy was extremely complimentary of Marianne's dress. She had given him a glimpse before wrapping the Pashmina round her shoulders. He whispered his delight.

"Are those two ties functional or decorative?" Marianne smiled.

"Functional. I thought I would make it easy for you tonight. Undo those and you get your surprise." She blew him a kiss. He looked eager.

"I can't wait." She was very flattered to see a lump grow in his trousers.

Sylvie and Marianne sat together in the back of the Range Rover. Guy, who was driving and Jason were in the front. Jason spent most of the time turned around so that he could see their two lovely companions and talk with them. Marianne found Jason a very agreeable man. She had been shocked at first as he stood tall at six foot five as Sylvie had informed her. He appeared to be a very muscular man as well. Despite his daunting appearance he was affable and witty keeping them giggling as he pleasured his eyes with the two ladies. After a while though his conversation dried and his eyes were not on them but on the view behind the car. He was watching for about ten minutes seemingly becoming concerned.

"Guy!" He said suddenly. They were travelling along a fairly narrow lane at the time. "When you go round the next bend I would like you to stop, blocking the road."

"What for?"

"Something's amiss. Just humour me will you? When you stop I will get out and I would like you to lock the doors when I do. Ok?"

"Whatever."

Guy picked the stop and told Jason to be ready. He brought the car to a stand quite quickly and Jason was out of the car and walking back the way they had come. Suddenly another car, a grey Ford came round the bend and the driver braked sharply upon seeing the Range Rover in his path. For such a big man Jason ran very quickly to the car and slapped something on the windscreen at the same time pulling open the driver's door. Guy, Sylvie and Marianne were of course stretching their necks to see what was going on. Marianne heard Jason shout. "POLICE. OUT OF THE CAR." Upon hearing those words Marianne looked at Sylvie for an explanation.

"Detective Inspector." Sylvie enlightened her.

The driver did as he was asked. There followed a conversation with the driver fumbling in his inside pocket for identification which he showed to Jason. There were further words with Jason talking quietly but firmly to the other man then listening. Eventually the other driver got back in his car as Jason came back to the Range Rover. Guy unlocked the doors and Jason got in. He was immediately besieged with questions.

"Let's get to the restaurant. We can talk about it there." Abacus was only ten minutes away.

Once they were seated Jason told the tale. His first words were to Marianne.

"Sylvie introduced you as Marianne, but I now know your name is Marion, Marion Urquhart. Is that so?" Marion nodded.

"Yes." With that confirmation Jason went on.

"Your husband, Charles is an important Civil Servant I believe."

"Well I don't know about important, Charles talks very little about his work, but he is in Brussels at the moment."

"Marion. He is important. He has to be otherwise the Security people would not be interested in you."

"Oh!" Jason nodded.

"I don't know what your relationship with Guy is, but I have to tell you Marion a report is being made, and." He turned to Sylvie and Guy. "They know who you are as well."

"Shit!" Sylvie as always had the right word for a situation. Marion was still confused.

"Why would they be interested in me?"

"Your husband is involved in delicate negotiations. They keep tabs on him to ensure that he cannot be pressured into anything and they need to know about you for the same reason. Quite a few powerful men have succumbed to coercion to protect their wives." 

"Do you know how long they have been watching me?"

"It don't think it has been long. Probably only since your husband started these negotiations. They look for unusual behaviour and it's only when they notice something odd that they will follow you." Marion slumped thinking that there was a good chance that her two evenings with Guy would be noted, especially the time that she spent in Guy's flat.

The fun had gone out of the evening with this incident. Sylvie and Guy were most worried about what was going to happen.

"What will you say to your husband?" Sylvie was near to tears for her friend.

"Tell him the truth. If there is a report the Permanent Secretary will get it and he will inform Charles, so there's no point in trying to lie about it. If he throws me out so be it."

"Oh Marion. I am so sorry I got you into this." Sylvie was weeping now. Marion took her hand to comfort her.

"No you didn't Sylvie. I am a grown woman and every step of the way I knew what I was doing." She turned to Guy. "Guy I want to say thank you. I would have liked to see much more of you. But I do want to say thank you for letting me flower for a while." Jason coughed to attract their attention.

"As a Policeman I shouldn't say this. But you can only be punished once, no matter how many times you sin. Let's enjoy our meal at least." Marion had one last question for Jason.

"Will he be watching me for the rest of the evening?"

"I doubt it. He's blown and knows we will be on our guard. He won't want to be caught twice by a local plod in one evening. So I think you can relax."

It was a very subdued party that left Abacus later that evening. Marion had heard Jason's comment about only being punished once It was a temptation to stay with Guy tonight, throwing care to the winds, but common sense dictated that she go home. Chastened, frustrated and fearful of the future she took her leave of Guy and drove home.

Charles arrival on Friday was at first uneventful. He greeted her as he usually did and over Dinner regaled her with a précis of the week's events. It would appear that the argument about Olives had occupied them fully.

"Of course Olives don't really concern us, but the Germans and ourselves are backing the French on this. It will be a little lever when we get to the real issue. Mind, if the French resort to type then any assistance we give them will be forgotten or even denied when we get to that." Charles unusually did not go into his study that evening, instead asking Marion to join him the lounge.