Phone Conversation

[jbz2079]

I did wonder if you would post anymore of this story, Glad to see you have though, thanks- JBZ

[weeboy]

Thanks for the update to this story.

I'm glad you have continued it as i have missed reading it....please keep going!!

[freswith]

Thank you for your response; I hope to put a new chapter up this evening. Due to the aforementioned remarks, I've moved the story on a dozen years, so that Vickie is a teenager. It cuts the diaper content down a lot, but explores the indirect, knock-on effects of her problem; the shyness and severe lack of self-confidence, low self-image, and the issues of over-controlling parents. I hope you all enjoy it!

[alex 04]

Thank you for your response; I hope to put a new chapter up this evening. Due to the aforementioned remarks, I've moved the story on a dozen years, so that Vickie is a teenager. It cuts the diaper content down a lot, but explores the indirect, knock-on effects of her problem; the shyness and severe lack of self-confidence, low self-image, and the issues of over-controlling parents. I hope you all enjoy it!

hope to see a new chapter soon

[freswith]

Thank you. I won't disappoint my most valued fan. Let me know what you think of it....

[freswith]

Twelve years later...

Darren.

I put my pen down with a distinct click. I checked my watch and saw there was fifteen minutes left to the exam. Perfect! I looked through my papers, checked they were in order with my name and candidate's number written on every sheet, shuffled them into a neat pile and began a swift read-through. I felt confident I had done my best, there were no other answers that could have been made, and it was too late now for second thoughts anyway. I straightened my back and neck, and rolled my shoulders each way to loosen them. That was it: the end of exams, and by implication, the end of school. I would delight in disposing of my uniform, especially the school tie that had been around my neck for so many years like a slave collar; I had a special fate in mind for that.

I ran my mind back over the years I had spent here, and felt if they had been the happiest in my life, then I had better give up now. I'd never really felt a part of the "gang", and they'd regarded me as a swot. I knew I stuck out of the crowd because I was an ash blonde, and most of the rest were "English mouse" or darker. They seemed to envy me for that, but where they went a luscious brown colour in the sun, I would go red and burn. They would struggle with the exams, and I would sail through them. They would get pimples, and I would not. They got fat and talked endlessly about diets, and I did neither. They would get boyfriends; stupid, malevolent, pimply creatures and I would not. Not that I didn't like boys, but I didn't care much for schoolboys. Darren was different. He was a few years older than me, with a job of some kind selling what he called "Fast Moving Consumer Goods" and a flash car. I didn't see him all that often, but he treated me as someone special, he seemed to have a ready supply of money, and Mother despised him: all points in his favour as far as I was concerned.. And lurking underneath was that business with the bladder control. Okay, I'd been dry since I was eight, but somehow the stigma had stuck to me. Having Shirley in the same class hadn't helped. She had not grown up as the pretty one, was generously endowed with "puppy fat" and a vindictive nature, and if she wasn't actually being poisonous about me behind my back, it certainly felt like it.

Thinking of the old days, there had been moments during the exams when I could really have done with a nappy. It wasn't so much that nature called enough to distract me, but the threat that it might was enough to worry me. There were even times when the security of that bulk between my legs would have been a great comfort, but I put it to the back of my mind and carried on. I always hated it whenever I had to break my studies to go to the toilet, then come back and pick up the threads of what I'd been doing. However, nothing would have made me go back to the smell of them, to the humiliation of them, and all the inconvenience involved. It was just odd, whenever I was out of range of the toilet and nature threatened to call, how my mind recalled the comfort and security of them, but I had never gone as far as to try and find one to wear.

The clock on the end of the hall clicked off another minute, and the invigilator called "Five minutes left". I looked around at the other candidates. Some were still writing desperately, others were sitting back like me. Five more minutes of childhood. Then, hopefully Darren would be waiting outside. Like Hell! He never seemed to do what I wanted him to do; it was always the other way around. That was why I had never done the wicked deed with him; I was always waiting for that little bit of commitment from him, and he was always sliding away from it. I wanted him there. I wanted to leave in style, in full view of the other people, especially the view of Shirley who was effectively smothering a seat with her fat thighs only four rows in front of me. I wanted her to eat crow, and see me with my fine handsome boyfriend. Damn it if Mother didn't like him! Not that I didn't love Mum, but she would never let me go. She was always there, so close to me, never more than a few inches away, always on at me to study, to succeed, always grudging me the smallest bit of freedom, always lecturing me, criticising my clothes and destroying my self-confidence. She was my Mum, and I loved her, but she was just a bit too much. Just a lot too much, really. I think she would still have liked to have me back in nappies if she could have swung it, controlled by her and dependent upon her for everything, even toilet visits. Now it was my chance to get away. Four minutes left.

Now, to cap it all, Darren was taking me to the Glastonbury Festival. He'd got tickets, heaven knows how because they had all sold out months before, and he said he had even wangled back-stage passes for us. I hardly believed him, but I would take that as being some indication as to what he really felt about me. And from then, I just might...

I wondered if Amelia would be at Glastonbury. She was very fashionable, very much in the public eye, and I would be able to impress even Darren with my association with a supermodel, even a notorious one.

The clock clicked again, and there was a general rustle of papers. A few people were still scribbling franticly. I leant back and flexed my fingers. I was planning a gap year before I went to university, hopefully Cambridge if my grades were first-rate, but anywhere would do as long as it wasn't at home in Bristol. In the meantime I hoped to get some office job to make some money and then do some voluntary work overseas. Dad had promised to help financially, and I was looking forward to it so much. I packed my pens back into their case, and aligned my manuscript carefully in the centre of the desk. I put the question paper on one side. Doubtless Dad would want to go over it with me in a long futile debrief, but the die was now cast for better or worse.

The clock reached the ordained hour, and the invigilator intoned his final litany. The other staff began to walk forward along the rows, collecting papers, including mine. Then I was free to go - Nunc Dimittis. Free from school. Free from exams. Childhood's End. I got up on my stiff legs, and walked forward behind the woman who was collecting the papers, and as I went I removed the bands from my pigtails. As I reached Shirley I shook my hair free and let it fall heavily over my shoulders, then strolled onwards in the catwalk style that Amelia had shown me, showing every possible inch of my slender legs below the regulation uniform skirt that I had carefully shortened - twice. Eat that, you fat, spotty, dun-haired bitch!

I strolled towards the gate, swinging my hips and my handbag, tie loosened in the best St. Trinian's style, and looked for Darren. No Darren. Then I saw Mum. She looked as if she had lost a pound and found tuppence. I looked around desperately for Darren, but couldn't find him at all.

"Get in the car!" Mum said, very coldly. This did not augur well.

"I was hoping to meet Dar..."

"Get in the car. Now!"

I got in. Very reluctantly. "Darren's supposed to..."

"Darren's been arrested."

"He can't have been! He's done nothing wrong! I KNOW him...!"

"The Police have arrested him. For possession."

"He's not into drugs! I'd know that!"

"The police say different. They stopped his car and searched it. They say they found a huge amount. They've been watching him for weeks, and they know all about you. They came round with a search warrant, and have been right through the house. They turned your room out. All the neighbours saw. Dad's furious. The police want to talk to you now. Do your tie up and try to look respectable; you looked like a tuppenny harlot the way you walked across the playground just then!"

When we got home - the drive had been an icy nightmare - there were two police waiting for me, a middle-aged Detective-Sergeant Collins and a younger woman, a Detective Constable Something. He had a rather shabby lived-in suit and an equally shabby lived-in face; the woman was somewhat smarter. We sat down around the dining table, and they both looked at me silently. Eyes that had never blinked, eyes that had never believed anything they had ever been told; lizard eyes, eyes that had once belonged to Pontius Pilate and had stared down the Son of God, contemptuously disbelieving Him. Eyes that now converged on me, stripping me of every evasion, dissolving every deception. I had that certain feeling in my bladder that came with fear, and with it came that peculiar thought from my distant past: how nice it would be to be tucked up in bed with a nappy on and beyond any possible wrongdoing. It was not to be. Mum and Dad sat behind me, and the questioning started. They were very formal, and called me "Miss Petersen", even getting the final "e" right. How long had I known Darren, did I know what he did, did he ever ask me to look after things for him, who did we meet and where and when, and so it went on. I answered as best as I could. Darren had taken me to pubs and clubs. He seemed to know everybody, and everybody knew him. He would discuss business with them, but never within my hearing. I didn't recall the names of the people he spoke to. I didn't know what he did for a living; I'd been told it was Fast Moving Consumer Goods. The words flopped out like codfish onto the deck of a trawler, gasping and flapping helplessly and hopelessly.

"Fast Moving Consumer Goods!" growled the Detective Sergeant, nodding gently. "They were certainly that!"

Then the woman took over. She was a little gentler in tone, but still gave nothing away. She asked about what we had planned for the future. I said we hadn't made any plans. She came back and asked what we had planned for the immediate future. I paused for a second, and told her about Glastonbury. I could feel Mum's disapproval boring holes in my back. I told her about the back-stage passes, and they both nodded. Then she stuck the spear in. Were we lovers? I denied it indignantly, not least because my mother was right behind me. I watched their faces harden, and I reinforced it. "I've never been with any man!" and as the anger and humiliation started to brew within me, "And I can prove that!"

They recoiled slightly before my obvious anger, and the woman nodded. Her voice softened by a tone, but she promptly stuck another spear into me: "I'm sure his wife will be pleased to hear it."

That certain feeling started to get the better of me. I mumbled that I needed the toilet, and without waiting further, made a bolt for it. Great was my relief as I sat there breathing deeply and trying to get control of my throbbing heart and streaming eyes. I looked up, and saw Dad's Doctorate, framed on the wall, placed in the downstairs loo as though it was a bagatelle, a nothing, but put in such a position as all the guests would have time to read it. Presuming they could understand the Latin, of course. After a few minutes I began to master my distress and straightened myself up, looking in the mirror at the ravages. I looked so terrible even I wouldn't have believed me. Long enough. Any longer and they would have suspected me of slashing my wrists or something. I opened the door and went out.

The first thing I saw was Grandfather's portrait on the wall. He was in full Admiral's uniform and staring fiercely out. I thought for a moment that it was me he was staring at, but then I looked again. I thought of what he would say about never giving up the fight, and I took courage from it. I was of his flesh and blood, and I wouldn't let them grind me down. I squared my shoulders and went back into the dining room, and sat facing my interrogators.

"We'd like to take a statement from you, Vickie." said the woman, indicating a heap of paper. You don't have to give us one, but if we have one it may enable us to eliminate you from our enquiries." Yes. I Bet! I gave them their statement, telling them all I knew about Darren, and I realised it was really very little. I carried no candle for him now, he had lied to me about his wife, I felt betrayed, and I could no longer cared what would happen to him. Where my love had been was now a cold empty pit in my stomach. I spoke truthfully, and the woman noted it all down in that neat round hand that always seemed to mark the semi-literate. I read it through very carefully. There was nothing in there that could implicate me in any crime, and they would have great difficulty in twisting it to their advantage, and so I signed it.

As the Detective Sergeant was leaving he looked at Grandfather's portrait on the wall. "Sir Jack Tarr?" he asked.

I nodded. "Grandfather." I replied.

"I served under him." said the D.S. "He was a fair man."

I nodded. Everybody said that about Grandad. He was never known to give a defaulter more than twenty-eight days.

"A very fair man." said the D.S.. Presumably you only got fourteen, I thought.

I asked what they had found in Darren's car. "Cocaine." he replied. "Enough to send Glastonbury into orbit. And a handgun. Loaded."

Darren, I thought, You Are Really Cooked, and Serve You Damn Well Right! "Well, he never gave me any!" I blurted out, and then regretted it. It left me as a protest and in mid-air turned itself into a complaint.

"A good thing too!" growled the DS. "Evil stuff! Every week we see young girls like you on the pathologist's slab because of it. Stay well clear of it, and of men like Darren!"

Dad let them out through the front door. I didn't wait. I brushed myself past Mum, and ran up to my bedroom. My drawers had all been opened, and bits of clothing were hanging out. I pulled my underwear drawer open, and it was all in tangled disarray, even worse than usual. I felt sick to think of that policeman having run his hands through it, as though he had run them over my body. I saw my old teddy lying on the bed, doubtless having been probed for drugs, and I wrapped my arms around him, threw myself on my bed, curled up into a ball and howled.

[jbz2079]

Exellent, what a great twist.

I'm green with envy how well you write, how easy you make it seem.

[alex 04]

thanks for the new chapter

[freswith]

Simon

The sun came out as the train left Dawlish, and as it rolled smoothly along beside the beachfront and through tunnels in the red sandstone cliffs, my spirits began to lift. So much had happened so quickly. Last night my mother had come to me, not nagging, not scolding, not accusing me or uttering any told-you-so's, but quietly and gently, and had held me close in her arms while I sobbed my heart out. She had rocked me to and fro until my sobs had declined into whimpers, stroking my hair and uttering soothing words. She told me she had spoken to Gran, and Gran had been very concerned about me and would be talking to Granpa about what could be done. She told me that everyone wished me well, and that I was still very young and there were plenty of nice things to look forward to. All the troubles were over and I was in the clear. Then Dad came in and said that Juliet was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I shook my head, but Dad insisted, very gently, and said that Juliet had something important to ask me.

My voice was still thick when I spoke to Juliet. She asked me if I'd finished my exams and how they'd gone. I stumbled a reply that I had. She then asked me if I would like to go down and stay with her in Cornwall for a while, as Peter was away and she was lonely, and would appreciate some help in looking after the kids and getting things ready for Peter's return. I was nonplussed, and couldn't take it in, but then I saw both Mum and Dad nodding vigorously, and the penny dropped. Get me out of Bristol, away from all the fuss, and away from school, and away from everything, get some sunshine and a change of scene. Arrangements were made very swiftly, and I was on the morning train out of Bristol, with my bag packed, and a generous supply of pocket money courtesy of Dad.

I watched the sunshine reflecting off the waves, and the children playing on the beaches and realised that I could have quite a long holiday away from everything, and by the time the train had crossed the Tamar into Cornwall my spirits had fully recovered. The cold hard pit where Darren had once been was now beginning to heal. I met Juliet on the platform at Truro, and we set off in her big estate car for her house in the wooded valley just outside Helston.

Holly and Jack cheerfully rioted in the back of the car and Juliet and I chatted in the front as we drove between the tall hedges. She told me that Peter was returning from the Persian Gulf on his ship, HMS Cleveland, and would be back in the UK in about two weeks, when he would be due some leave before taking up a new posting. She was hoping that he would get a job at Culdrose, but as he was due for promotion it might be anywhere, and that would involve moving. In the meantime she wanted to get everything in order for his return, and that would include getting Holly dry at nights. A groan from the back greeted this statement. I knew the feeling. It was like the First World War; and endless campaign where the General would decide to start a battle and the poor bloody infantry would have to go over the top on some futile mission, achieving no gains at huge cost. I could see Juliet cast in the role of General, Holly as the infantry and me as - well - not as Captain Blackadder if I could help it. I would be on the staff this time. I turned to smile at Holly, but it was wasted. She normally had a pretty smile with a pair of dimples, but she had obviously been practising her scowl recently, with good results; her eyebrows were nearly meeting her outthrust lower lip.

I could only sympathise with Holly. My mother had run campaigns to get me dry, threatening, rewarding, pleading, teasing, and none of them had any effect. As the campaign intensified so I would become more and more stressed, and the stress would mean that I wet more and more. It wasn't until Mum had just about given up the ghost that I had started to make progress. I think the Rubicon was crossed when I was in hospital for my appendix. I was put on a children's ward where many of the children were in nappies, including the boy in the next bed to me. He had suffered serious leg injuries in a car crash and was in a parlous way. He had also lost his mother in the crash, and was on powerful painkillers for his broken legs, and they put him back into nappies because he had had some nerve damage down there as well. I didn't tell the nurses about my bedwetting, and it had slipped Mum's mind as well, but they found out, the hard way, and then nappied me all the time. I felt very sorry for Michael, and did my best to ease his grief about his mother and his humiliation about the nappies, with the result that we became good friends. We even had a bet about which of us would get dry first, and, with that incentive, and being released from Mother's immediate control, I found I could actually make progress. It took about three months convince Mum I was dry, but when I went round to see Michael, I found that his father had reclaimed him and taken him away somewhere miles and miles away. I still wondered who won the bet, although I forget what we actually wagered.

Juliet told me we were invited to a party that evening. "It's Bootneck Bill Bainbridge's barbeque." she said.

"B...B...B...Who?" I stuttered at the alliteration.

"I think you met Bill at our wedding, He's a marine. You asked him what "going commando" meant. I think I can still hear the laughter."

"I think I'm still blushing. You set me up for that, you rotten so-and-so!"

"I'll never forget Amelia's face."

"By the way, where is Amelia?"

"Don't worry, she'll turn up sooner or later. She always does. She's probably got a man somewhere."

"What are you going to do with the children? I thought baby sitting was to be one of my duties?" There was a snort from the back seat; "baby sitting" was obviously a phrase to be avoided.

"They'll come too. No school tomorrow, and plenty of other kids there, and we won't be all that late. Do you have something to wear?"

I ran my mind over the wardrobe that had been so hurriedly packed. I had a couple of dresses in there, but they were rather short, and not much in the way of accessories. I told Juliet.

"Oh, we'll manage something." she replied.

I managed to iron a dress and get my hair into order to pass Juliet's careful inspection. I'd never gone very much on dresses, partly because they always reminded me of school uniform, but I had bought a couple with me as I was thinking of beach and sunshine rather than partying. Juliet had leant me a necklace and earrings, and the end result made me look very youthful, but certainly not childish. When the children had also passed muster, we set off.

As we walked into the Bainbridge's garden the children detached themselves to play with their peers, and Juliet took me to greet our hosts. I'm glad she did, because I wouldn't have recognised Bill ten years on, and had never met Jean before. Bill waved us on to the bar, and I made a quick sweep of the other guests. They were most thirty-something couples, but here and there were some young men, some apparently unattached, hovering around the drinks. Bill led me over, and I made a swift survey. It was apparent they were all navy types from Culdrose. All were clean and presentable, but one was really rather nice, and he was introduced to me as Simon French. He was tall, and well built, but not too muscular, dark-haired and eyed, and with even teeth, and he spoke nicely. There was a bowl of punch on the table - "maiden's ruin" - but I asked for a fruit juice; I didn't want to make myself look silly in front of all these smart people.

I soon discovered that I was terribly short of small talk. I had always been a bit of a wallflower, and had been hot-housed academically and not allowed to spend too much time in the wrong company, but here I was in a society of people who used naval jargon, had what might be called grown-up interests and problems, and I was probably the youngest adult there, little more than a schoolgirl. However, Simon persevered, and we discovered a mutual interest in skiing - I had done some once, with my Norwegian cousins, and could stay upright for much of the time - and in music, most of which I'd picked up from Darren. Simon's expert chatting up also revealed that I was Juliet's cousin and was staying with her for a holiday. I found out that Simon flew helicopters, but I didn't pursue the point as I had been warned many times once a pilot starts talking about flying they can never stop. Simon also mentioned that he flew gliders, and I was able to quote grandfather's remark, made in one of his crustier moments, that glider pilots were the hippies of the flying world. Simon laughed and replied that the world needed a few hippies in it to remind the rest of us what it was all about. This made me feel much better; from my sheltered, disciplined existence I'd envied the freedom of the hippy lifestyle, and was rather looking forward to experimenting with it at university. From then on I felt I could relax in Simon's company, and had no more difficulties in making conversation with him. I even went as far as to try the "maiden's ruin", and found it very palatable, indeed, if that was what a maiden's ruin consisted of, then the more the merrier.

Holly appeared at my elbow. For a moment I was perplexed. I wondered if she had had an accident, but there was no evidence of it, and then I thought that she was probably padded out to some extent and wanted a little help to change, but I didn't mention it, as today everything I said to her seemed to be wrong. It turned out that all she wanted was to be amongst the adults for a bit; childish company having palled, and she wanted to meet Simon. Nothing wrong with that and I introduced her. She was just asking him about flying helicopters, to my horror, when Juliet intervened. She said it was time to take Holly and Jack home. I must have looked rather unhappy, because then she suggested I stay longer, and perhaps Simon would take me home? Before I could speak, Simon had agreed. I was delighted; for once I wasn't being counted as a child, and was being left to my own devices.

I continued chatting to Simon about all manner of things until we were the only ones left in the garden, and Jean was starting to clear up the debris of the party. Simon raised an eyebrow; "Time to go?" he said. I nodded. We thanked our hosts and Simon led the way to his car, which was a little sports car with the roof down. Once we were out of the shelter of the garden I started to feel the cold, and when he saw me wrap my arms around myself, he reached into his car and produced a windcheater, and held it open for me to put on. I was glad of the protection, although it was much too big for me. He asked if I would like him to put the roof up, but I refused; it wasn't often I had the chance to ride in a sports car, and I didn't want to spoil the experience. He held the door open for me, something Darren had never done, and which made me feel rather special. It was only a mile or so back to Juliet's house, and Simon didn't drive very fast. I thoroughly enjoyed burbling along the green lane behind the pool of light from the cars headlights, and discovered the simple joy of leaning back and looking at the moon as the trees flickered past overhead. It was, alas, all over much too soon, and we stopped at Juliet's door. I waited. Simon waited. Just for a moment. Then he asked me very politely if he could have my phone number. I waited just one heartbeat, and then gave it to him. He then escorted me to the door, and very gently kissed me goodnight.

It wasn't until I was indoors that I kicked myself. I'd left my mobile phone back at home in Bristol.

[alex 04]

thanks for the new chapter

[freswith]

Thank you. I'm sorry it' been so long, but here is another one.

[freswith]

Praa Sands

Juliet had made the coffee. I hadn't realised that I had spent so long saying goodnight to Simon that she'd had time to boil a kettle, and I thought the whistling had all been in my own ears. Juliet was keen to hear what I thought about Simon. She told me that he wasn't married, that he was just back from a sea-posting, and his girlfriend had sent him a Dear John because she didn't like the idea of him going off to sea and leaving her. I told Juliet about leaving my mobile phone in Bristol, and she laughed at what might happen if Simon rang and Mum answered it; Mum was not known for being keen on my boyfriends, particularly in light of recent events. Juliet told me not to worry; Simon had "forgotten" to ask for his flying jacket back, and that meant he would certainly be around in the morning. If that failed Juliet would ring Jean and pass the message on.

We got on to the subject of Holly. I mentioned that she had looked very depressed in the car on the way back from the station, and asked if it was just the old family curse. Juliet nodded. "She's been under a lot of stress recently. I think it was a mistake to challenge her to get dry before Peter came home; she took it very seriously, but frankly she's made very little progress. She's still in nappies every night, and the majority of them are wet in the morning. I started the old calendar again - you know how it works - but it's full of red crosses, and even some day accidents as well. It's got her down. She is so determined to do it, but every time she fails, it increases the stress, and that increases the wetting. It's a vicious circle."

"I'd better avoid the subject then."

"Unless she raises it. I've told her the old stories so many times they're now worn out, and she just shrugs them off. You might have some new ones. I've told her you were dry by nine, and frankly that went down like a lead balloon. She's ten."

"Have you told her that it took you until you were twelve?

"Went down even harder. Two more years!"

"I imagine it would. When she came up to Simon and me at the barbecue I thought it might be because she'd had an accident." Suddenly I realised I'd said "Simon and me". It sounded so natural, and I paused for a moment.

"She'd had. Only a tiny one, and she was wearing some protection, but it was an excuse to take the children home. I didn't want to pull you away from Simon; you seemed to be doing so well."

"Thanks for that. I was. Many thanks! I'll try to return the favour."

"I'd be grateful. I would like to spend some time with Peter, go out a bit, you know. And we've got our anniversary coming up. If you could do some sitting, I'd be very grateful. I'll get the kids ready for bed, so you won't have much of a fight."

"Oh God! Are they difficult?"

"Jack can play up, but it's the old problem with Holly. She doesn't like the sitter having anything to do with her nappies, so either she has it put on before we go out, in which case it's nearly always wet when we get back and a midnight change is necessary, or we have to rely on her putting it on herself - and of course, with the sitter around, she "forgets", and we have a whole bed change and a scene when we get in."

"Doesn't she normally put them on herself?"

"Not normally, as I've said. There's always an excuse, a delay, and then a row. I put them on her. I really think she prefers it that way; it's a few minutes of intimate attention for her, and a chance for her to sound off about what's on her mind. I quite appreciate it as well, and I am slightly better at making them leak-proof: much better, in fact. She certainly doesn't object or wriggle."

"Does she ever take them off in the night?"

"No. Not now. There was a phase of them "coming undone" with the usual results, but I managed to get a sort of romper - a bubble - and that keeps them very securely in place. She hates it. Gran made it for her, and so it's pink and has lots of babyish frills. It also zips up the back and the zip can be tied at the neck. Once that's on, it's really on, and won't come off 'til morning."

"I'll bet she hates that!"

"I'll show you where it is, just in case. The threat's normally enough."

I realised where this was leading. "When do you want me to sit for you?"

"Peter's ship is due back on Tuesday. It's our anniversary on Thursday, and we will probably go out for an intimate meal somewhere. It would be very nice if you could sit the children that night. Gran always told me to be very thorough in rebuilding the relationship when my man comes home, and it's very good advice. It would help a lot if you could do some child-care for me so I can concentrate on Peter."

"I'd love to. I think I've got off on the wrong foot as far as Holly is concerned, and I'd like to get past that. We really have so much in common, and I'm sure we can get on much better given the chance."

"I'll be happy to give you the chance."

I slept in a little later than usual the following morning, and staggered downstairs to find Juliet making breakfast for Jack and Holly. I mumbled my apologies and Juliet just laughed, saying I'd had a very long day yesterday. I'd had a very long forty-eight hours, in fact, and the girl who set off for her exam two days ago was already a different creature from the one who sat down to breakfast today. The children were very excited, and Juliet told me that they were going to take advantage of the beautiful weather by spending the day on the beach. I could hardly object, and Mum had equipped me with a large bottle of suntan oil with just that in mind. Unfortunately it was of so high a protection-factor that it could protect Earth from all global warming and so I would be unlikely to get a suntan this side of winter.

After breakfast Juliet suggested that I change for the beach before we went, as there was nowhere there to do it, and I took her advice, changing into my bikini and covering it with tee shirt and shorts. I was just walking to the car when Simon arrived in his sports car, ostensibly to collect his flying jacket. I handed it over and apologised for giving him my wrong phone number. He appeared greatly relieved, and said that he'd tried it several times, until he got a rather dozy small boy who told him Vickie was on the run. I made a mental note to strangle little brother William when I saw him, and we laughed it off. He opened the flying jacket and passed it around my shoulders, and, still holding on to the lapels, asked if he could take me out to dinner sometime. I nodded agreement, my face very close to his, and he thanked me, then kissed me very lightly. The arrival of Juliet with the children clattering behind her brought me back to reality, and I suggested that we go out on Tuesday, when I knew Peter would be back and Juliet would appreciate being left alone with him. Simon agreed with alacrity, and Juliet nodded her approval. I returned Simon his flying jacket for a second time, and our hands touched and lingered for just those few very important seconds.

Simon was on his way into work, and promised to keep an eye out for us if it took him anywhere near Praa Sands. We parted, all too quickly in my opinion, and I set about loading the children and all their gear into he car.

Once on the beach, life became very much simpler. I managed to acquire some sun-tan oil which would actually allow me to tan, as opposed to Mum's Impenetrable protection. I know I am blonde and fair skinned, blame my Norwegian grandfather for that, but for that very reason I do like to get a bit of colour - it saves me from fading into the wallpaper. I had also bought a tiny red string bikini of which Mum would have disapproved, but which allowed plenty of skin to see the sun. Juliet was very different - she approved! While Jack busied himself building a huge sandcastle, with some help from Holly, Juliet and I could relax in the sunshine, and talk of many things. We talked of men, and children, and of the problems they both bring, and we talked of my plans for the gap year and for university - providing I got the exam results I hoped for. And we talked some more of Men, and particularly of Peter - and Simon. I told Juliet all the details of what had happened with Darren, and she said it was a good thing that they had arrested him before I got in the car, or I wold have been arrested too, and would have had enormous difficulty in talking my way out of it. By and by a deep throbbing noise disturbed us, and a large helicopter came slowly along the beach, just the other side of the surf. "That'll most probably be Simon." Said Juliet, and so I stood up and waved. It was too far away, of course, much too far for him to see little me, but a white-gloved hand waved from the cockpit in reply.

[freswith]

St Michael.

I didn't need to ask to know what the row was about. I had been there so many times myself. We were getting ready to go up to Plymouth to meet Peter from his ship, and it was a an hour and a half's drive; not that long in absolute terms, but I remember Mum always insisting that I wore something for a car journey of an hour or more, and I remember all too well the kind of rows we would have about it. I continued to get myself ready, and only when I was all complete did I walk along to Holly's room, just in time to hear Juliet threaten to leave Holly behind with me and in my care. There was no way I wanted that; I was looking forward to the trip, seeing Peter's ship come in and meeting Peter. I went in. Juliet and Holly were standing almost eyeball-to-eyeball in the middle of the room, and Juliet was holding a nappy in her hand, pointing it at Holly as though it were a gun. Holly was standing her ground, red-faced, scowling, her lower lip thrust out, the total effect only spoiled by the fact that she was only half dressed.

I knew all about Holly's problem, of course, and I could see Juliet's point of view, but something had to give, and given that any accident from Holly would meant we arrived late, and with a car smelling of urine, supported her fully. I could imagine what Peter would fell at such a welcome. That just left Holly in a minority of one. It was obvious what the outcome would be; Holly wouldn't stand for being left at home instead of going to meet her father, so something had to be done to break the impasse. The nappy drawer was still open, and at one end there were a stack of pull-ups: a compromise to break an impasse. I pulled one out and offered it, and Holly began to back down, finally accepting a deal involving the promise of an ice cream. Honour being satisfied on both sides, we set off.

The ride was a long one and then there was quite a wait while the Cleveland came alongside, but I remembered my duties, and checked on the kids. When I asked Holly how she was, there was a brief silence while she thought of an answer. From long experience I knew what it would be, and without further ado I made my excuses and took both of them to the toilets, leaving Juliet to keep watch for Peter. Holly had indeed had a little accident, but was soon changed, and we arrived back in time to see Peter coming down the brow.

I continued to look after the children while Juliet chatted to Peter, and we drove home with the three of us in the back seat. I was quite grateful Holly was wearing some protection, as we were packed in quite closely and I didn't want to end the journey sitting in a puddle. We stopped for tea on the way, and I took the chance to ensure that Holy used the toilet again, and thus succeeded in getting her home dry.

As I was waiting for Simon to arrive that evening I noticed that the children were being got ready for bed a little earlier that usual, against much protest. I could guess that Juliet and Peter had plans for the evening that did not include children, or guests for that matter; it had been several months since they had been together, and I was very happy to have the excuse to absent myself so I didn't play the gooseberry.

I heard the doorbell go, and counted to ten before I went to answer it. I let Simon in and we stood talking for a few moments in the hallway, and then introduced him to Peter as he came down the stairs hand in hand with Holly. As soon as Holly saw Simon she blushed and retreated behind Peter like a shy toddler. From my viewpoint it wasn't hard to see the reason; the bulges in her pyjama bottom were all too visible, and I felt I had to do something quickly to distract Simon, so I slid my arm around inside his and squeezed his hand. That was very successful, and gained me the whole of Simon's attention. I certainly didn't want any questions coming from him about our little family secret. Not now, and ideally not ever.

Simon's car was very low, and I was grateful for Amelia having once told me the way to get into such a car in a ladylike manner while wearing a short skirt, swinging both my legs in together. He had put the roof up, which also gained him Brownie points in my estimation, as I'd spent quite some time in getting my hair neat and tidy, and had learned on my previous trip in his car that even a mile in an open sports car would reduce it to a hopeless bird's nest. He also drove quite slowly, for which I was grateful, as the effect of the low position between the tall stone hedges tended to exaggerate the speed and, although Darren drove his BMW much faster, I really didn't like being a passenger in such a situation. Simon also held the door open for me to get in, which is something Darren had never cared to do, and I was starting to enjoy the feeling of being treated with consideration, like a lady rather than as a child or plaything.

The meal at the "Queen Victoria" was splendid, but I was careful not to eat too much, and even more careful not to drink too much. I was getting to appreciate this "lady" thing, and was determined not to make any mistakes and put myself back into the "schoolgirl" category. I'd left all that behind me now, by almost a whole week, and this was another world. I took my cues from Simon, to whom it was all obviously second nature. I found that my small-talk was improving, and I got to know him a little better. He told me of his family farm near Evesham, which had been in the family for generations, of his parents and his three brothers, and his old granddad who had served in the war flying Catalinas in Coastal Command and who had infected Simon with a love of flying. I told him a little of my background, of my other grandfather who had come over from Norway during the war to serve in the Commandos, and then stayed to raise a family, which explained my Norwegian surname, and probably my blonde hair. The time passed all too swiftly.

As we left the Queen Vic Simon suggested that we go and have a look at St Michael's Mount, and asked if I'd ever seen it. I had, on a previous holiday, but said that I hadn't because I wanted to extend this evening for as long as possible. We parked on the front and strolled along the causeway under the full moon, admiring its reflections on the sea until we reached the little harbour on the Mount. I stumbled slightly on the uneven cobblestones, and grabbed Simon's arm, then he drew me close.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but when I looked back at the mainland I saw the tide was already lapping across the causeway. In a rising panic we hurried back along the causeway to the water's edge and there stopped for a moment. I certainly didn't wish to spend the night stuck out there on the Mount so I turned to Simon to ask what we should do. All he did was to take his shoes and socks off, give them to me and tell me to hold them. Instinctively I did as I was told whereupon he put one arm round my waist, another behind my knees and picked me up as though I were a baby. I clutched him round the shoulders, hanging on for dear life, and trying not to drop his shoes as he waded into the seawater flooding the causeway. He strode onwards as the washing sound of the water got ominously deeper, and I clutched him even tighter and he held me even more firmly. As we splashed though the rising tide the worst thing happened and nature called. I gritted my teeth. This was just not the right moment. For one crazy moment I actually envied poor Holly, all self-contained and protected against such emergencies, and for once I wished that I enjoyed similar protection.

Fortunately we reached the other side before the matter became too urgent, and I was able to withdraw behind the shelter of a large rock to relieve myself while Simon replaced his shoes and socks. Both of us then succumbed to a fit of the giggles. I put my hands round his neck to straighten his collar. It didn't need straightening, but it was a good reason to put my arms around him. I wanted to claim that well-toned body for myself, and decided if the price was to give him mine, then that was a fair exchange.

Our goodnights were not prolonged. I could see that he wasn't comfortable with wet trousers up to mid-thigh, so I let him get away, but not before I'd kissed him goodnight. Very Thoroughly. And if his hands wandered a bit, I certainly didn't object.

I let myself in, took my shoes off and tiptoed up the stairs in bare feet. I wasn't quite quiet enough it seems, because a light came on in Holly's room and there was a querulous challenge. She came to the bedroom door, and I could see from her sagging pyjamas that her unusually early bedtime had come at a price. I stopped in my tracks. I really didn't want to top off my lovely evening with a nappy change, least of all with a fractious child like Holly, but I certainly couldn't leave her in that state; she wouldn't be able to sleep, and would certainly leak by morning. I wasn't going to wake Peter or Juliet to do it either, it wouldn't be fair on Peter's first night back from sea. I softly guided Holly back into her room, and the sleepy child made no objection when I pulled her pyjama bottoms down and un-taped the sodden nappy from around her loins. I gave her a handful of wipes and told her to clean herself up while I unfolded a fresh nappy onto the bed, the smell, sound and texture bringing back half-forgotten memories to me. Then she laid down and I slid it under her, taped it up, tucked her back in and wished her a good night. She murmured some muffled reply, and I think she was asleep before I turned the light out.

I lay awake for some time sorting through all the things that had happened that day as my nervous system gradually wound itself down towards sleep. I thought of all the things that Simon had said, and all the things that I had said to Simon. Then I just thought of Simon..... and Simon.... just Simon....

[babykeiff]

Your writing skill is amazing, and I am grateful for the work, but I am somewhat disappointed that you feel that you have to censor your writing due to perceived political correctness. This forum is #1 specifically for the 18+, and there are measures here to enforce it #2 aimed at the adult baby / diaper lover where the concept of wearing diapers are accepted as normal.

...Due to the aforementioned remarks, I've moved the story on a dozen years, so that Vickie is a teenager. It cuts the diaper content down a lot, but explores the indirect, knock-on effects of her problem; the shyness and severe lack of self-confidence, low self-image, and the issues of over-controlling parents. I hope you all enjoy it!

In my opinion, political correctness has in the past, and will in the future remove the ultimate freedom that we as humans must have in order to grow as a species. I thought that this was the year 2010, and the medieval thinking of witch hunting - killing someone due to lack of knowledge / different beliefs / different thinking - was a thing of the past. As a member of this site, and classed as an adult, I am wholly responsible for all my choices. Free will / free choice MUST be ultimate, or not at all. We live in a DEMOCRATIC state, NOT A DICTATORSHIP. I am free to chose what I do to myself, but to respect my fellow man and his/her property. I, nor should anybody else, be forced to do something, or not to read / write something due to another's beliefs. If we are, then it is another that is not respecting me or my free choice, and enforcing their will on me.

End Rant...

Freswith, please don't let others change you, or the way you write. It is always a pleasure to read your literature. Keep up the good work.

[freswith]

Many thanks for that. I can only agree with your remarks about politcal correctness, which carefully squeezes much of the truth and most of the fun out of everything it touches.

Yesterday in the chatroom Julia had her usual go at me, sneering at fat old hairy men writing stories about young girls being forced into nappies, and said that she never reads this thread. Thus freed I can now write what I like without the whey-faced acid-tongued bitter little picklefanny reading it. The next episode will be a little heavier in that respect. If she objects I am sure a public subscription will provide a "brank" to fit her and provide some peace and quiet, love her though I do.

[alex 04]

hope for a new update soon

[babykeiff]

Many thanks for that. I can only agree with your remarks about politcal correctness, which carefully squeezes much of the truth and most of the fun out of everything it touches.

Yesterday in the chatroom Julia had her usual go at me, sneering at fat old hairy men writing stories about young girls being forced into nappies, and said that she never reads this thread. Thus freed I can now write what I like without the whey-faced acid-tongued bitter little picklefanny reading it. The next episode will be a little heavier in that respect. If she objects I am sure a public subscription will provide a "brank" to fit her and provide some peace and quiet, love her though I do.

Julia, like everyone else, has free choice to come here and read your stories, OR not come here. Her opinions, although well known to you via her sneering etc, is her opinions which she is welcome to, but should not discourage you, or anyone else to curtail their work to someones belief. I respect Julia and her opinions, but in that, I don't need to agree or disagree to them. I may have different opinions, but as they are mine, no-one should feel compelled to alter their choices based on my opinion. They have the intelligence to make their own choices based on their own opinions. I am an advocate of free intelligent choices to all, and I, nor does anyone else, have the right to dictate to another based on beliefs / religion etc.

[freswith]

Many thanks! Since Juliabam insists primly that she never reads this thread (but seems to know what it's all about) it gave me a chance to pull her leg without her being able to reply. I have to judge the strength of her sense of humour, and I know it can suffer when she is in a lot of pain. Fortunately my armour plate is far stronger than her wit, but I don't know the strength of her armour. Nothing is worse than all gun and no armour unless it is all gun, no armour and no mobility. She has a habit of going quiet for long periods.

I've got another episode of Vickie's story on the stocks, and will post it shortly. I'll turn the wick up again. With Vickie plotting to lose her virginity and catch her man, I have a lot to write about. I hope you all enjoy it.

[freswith]

The Sitter

Simon called me the following morning. He didn't keep me in suspense, for which I was grateful. He invited me out on the Thursday night, but I had to refuse him because I had already promised to sit for Juliet and Peter, whose anniversary it was. I mentioned this to Juliet over coffee, while undergoing her subtle de-brief. She then suggested that I invite Simon around for a "bite of supper" to keep me company while sitting, and as a return of hospitality. I thought for a moment, well, about half a second in fact, and then agreed. It was obviously a tacit approval of Simon's behaviour and my response; he was now trusted with me. I was a bit worried about what I could cook, but Juliet said there was some boeuf bourguignon in the freezer that I could pass off as having cooked myself, and a bottle of wine could certainly be made available. I called Simon back straight away, and arrangements were made.

All went well until that evening when Juliet was briefing me about putting the children to bed. The old, old question arose: would Holly have her nappy on before her parents left, would it be left to the sitter, would the sitter be willing to do it, and would Holly put up with a stranger performing this intimate service, or would she suffer the indignity of being nappied earlier than usual with the increased likelihood of wetting and a midnight change? Holly, sitting at the end of the table, went very quiet, and I could sympathise with her. I remembered how I felt when the same question had arisen when I was small; if there had been a hole in the floor I would gladly have fallen into it. I asked if Holly couldn't be trusted to look after herself in this respect, since surely she was now old enough. Juliet sucked her teeth, and I had the sense that Holly was holding her breath waiting for an answer.

"We've tried it." said Juliet, "We've tried it before. It seems that every delaying tactic is used..." she looked askance at Holly, who was reddening distinctly, ... "and the usual result is that she ends up with no nappy on, and a very wet bed, and an almighty scene in the middle of the night. Isn't that true, Holly?" Holly was now getting dangerously red. Tears were not far away. My heart went out to her. "Which would you prefer? I put your nappy on at six, and you can play until your normal bedtime, or Vickie puts it on you later?" The alternative close. No room for Holly to back out.

Holly remained silent, then she swallowed and very softly said "Later."

"Pardon?"

A little louder: "Later, please."

"You don't mind Vickie putting your nappy on you then?" said Juliet, rubbing the unmentionable point home, quite unnecessarily as I thought.

"No. She changed me the other night when she came in. To save waking you and Dad. I don't mind Vickie doing it. She's one of us. She won't be telling everybody round the town about it, and I won't get my leg pulled in school. I'm sure it must have come through other sitters, especially that one who kept checking on me and offering to change me."

Juliet nodded, and turned towards me. "You are honoured indeed! I didn't know about the other night." she said, "No one is normally allowed to do that except Peter and me." I looked towards Holly and gave her a wink. She blinked back her tears and managed a smile in reply. Then she asked to be excused and fled the room.

Juliet sighed. "Thanks for that. It's always very difficult, as you probably remember. I certainly do." she said.

"You used to do me." I replied. "Lying on the hearthrug. After the first few times I quite enjoyed it. And they were cloth nappies then, such a lot of fuss."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I quite enjoyed it too. You were such a good child, and you put up with it so well."

"I didn't really have much choice, did I? It was either that or be nappied on the changing table in front of William, sarcastic little brute. God, I used to hate it!"

"Didn't we all? I was usually done in front of Amelia, who was by then old enough to know it was a bit strange. She was completely amazed when I finally got out of them. She didn't think people ever did."

"Bearing in mind what I said, do you think I should let Holly put her own nappy on?"

Juliet thought for a moment. "No, better not, I think, she would probably be even more self-conscious if you did that, and there's more scope for her objections. Don't give her a choice, nappy her exactly as you would a baby and don't make a big thing out of it. She's used to it, she's never gone a night without it, and she just accepts it, it's no big deal. I never gave you a choice, did I?"

"No, never. It was just "Lie down here, lift your bum!" and then you wrapped me up like a parcel. It felt quite nice, really." I mused. It did too. Nice and warm and soft and safe and secure, as long as no one was around to laugh at me. I saw her point. Quickly done, quickly over with and back to normal, and I could try to forget I had one on. Then something else struck me; I was no longer being treated as one of the children. I was on the other side of the equation, the parent's side, and being trusted with the care of a child.

Jack, so I'd been told, would not be a problem. They were wrong. As soon as Peter and Juliet were out of sight, Jack began to play up for all he was worth. It was all I could do to stop him tearing the place down. It took some serious threats and a bit of main force to get him into the bath and then to bed, and then the threat of terrible retribution if he got out. As I started to leave he sneered at Holly saying "Going to get your nappy on now, baby?" and both of us rounded on him as one. I threatened to put a nappy on him, and he said I wouldn't dare. I stepped forward, and Holly stepped with me, and suddenly he realised we meant business and grasped his bedclothes up around his chin. Holly just snorted at him, and then we left him and closed the door.

We went down stairs together. It was really time for Holly's bath, but I thought I owed her a little respect in exchange for her support with Jack, and ten or fifteen minutes of girl-to-girl conversation would give Jack a chance to get off to sleep before I had to start nudging Holly to run her bath. Simon was due to arrive by half past eight, so I really wanted to get Holly in her pyjamas by then, and ideally in bed.

I went to check the cooking, and then back to the lounge where Holly had ensconced herself in the big armchair that was normally Peter's preserve. She began to ask me about Simon, what he was like, and what we had done on our date. I gave her a carefully censored account, and she loved the idea of being carried back though the waves. Time went very rapidly and I eventually had to shoo her upstairs for her bath.

I left her bathe herself, only intervening to scrub her back, and eventually a very clean and sweet-smelling child emerged wrapped in a towel. By then I had everything laid out ready on her bed, which perhaps wasn't really the best thing to do, but I was still a little bit nervous about it. When she saw what I had done Holly stopped in her tracks, her chatter stilled for a moment as she took in the nappy spread open to receive her, like a noose awaiting the condemned man. I had to move things along, as Simon was due any minute, and so I steered Holly over to the bed, turned her around and removed her towel, leaving her quite defenceless. Then I sat her down on the middle of the nappy, and gently pushed her backwards. She lifted her rump as I made the final alignments and then I reached for the ointment. She flinched as I spread it over her, and I had to remind her that she didn't want to get a rash, then without more ado I brought the front up between her legs and spread it on her tummy. For a brief moment, acting out of long instinct, she reached down to try and push the front part away from her, but I wasn't in a mood to play and we both knew it had to be, so she withdrew her hands. I completed the taping up as rapidly as I could, before checking the leg elastics. I really didn't want any leaks tonight, as I dreaded what Juliet might say in the morning as much as Holly did.

Just as I was helping her into her pyjama top the deep growl of a tuned exhaust announced Simon's arrival. She declined the pyjama bottoms with a brief "Too hot!", but instead donned her dressing gown, and lifted her hair over the collar. I wiped my hands quickly to get rid of - or at least spread - the ointment and we went downstairs to let him in.

I greeted Simon as warmly as the presence of a goggling child permitted. I reacquainted myself with the feel of his body, the smell of his hair, the strength of his arms and the taste of his lips before breaking away, and leading him into the lounge.

Holly followed, intrigued, and exchanged greetings with Simon while keeping the lower part of her body shielded behind the back of Peter's great armchair. I kept an ear open for any giveaway rustle, but I couldn't hear anything, and so I assumed the same went for Simon. I just hoped the tapes on her nappy were holding and we would be spared any great embarrassment. I poured two glasses of sherry, dry for Simon, medium for me, and sat him down on the sofa. Then I made a brief excuse and shooed Holly up to bed, making sure that I walked behind her to cover her bulging posterior; I hoped Simon's attention was duly distracted by mine. I followed her up to her bed, and tucked her in.

She grinned up at me and said "He's really nice, isn't he. I wouldn't mind him putting my nappy on!"

"Not so fast! He's mine!"

"Is he going to put your nappy on then?"

"No. Not in so many words. Now you pipe down and go to sleep. Stay dry!" I left her, made a point of closing the door firmly, and returned to Simon.

As we ate, we talked of many things. Now that I felt easier in his company I found that conversation came more naturally. Simon mentioned that Holly was a lovely kid and I agreed, subconsciously ticking one more box on Simon's sheet: Likes Children. I stopped short of asking him if he liked babies, not only because I certainly didn't want to raise the subject yet - it would probably make him want to run - but also because I was quite ambivalent about them myself. I was still too close to being babied myself, and the negative connotations - all those wet nappies - were still overwhelming my other instincts; I just wasn't ready for it.

He mentioned that he was living on station in the wardroom, but looking for a flat. He found that life in the wardroom, while comfortable, was too restricted and he wanted a place of his own, and now the holiday season was coming to an end there were many lets becoming available. As a relatively long term let, and as a naval officer with a good and stable income, Simon was well placed to find somewhere comfortable. Another box ticked: Has (or will Have) His Own Place. The checklist was rapidly being completed, and with ticks in every box so far.

I mentioned the Glastonbury festival, and simply said that I had planned to go, but had been let down. He remarked that he had heard that some of the acts seemed a bit off-form this year, and lacked their usual sparkle. I thought of the amount of the usual sparkle that had been found in Darren's car, and merely agreed. I thought of Darren. Briefly. And I think it was the last time I ever did, unprompted. He would now be lying in his cell, and it was way past lights-out. Serve him damn well right! Had he been stopped an hour later I would probably also be in a cell. As if in sympathy one of the candles guttered out, and I looked across at Simon in the light of the other two. Never had a candle lived such a virtuous life, or died so nobly, and the very last of my feelings for Darren died with it. The train of events had replaced that tawdry spiv with the gorgeous hunk of a man sitting opposite me, and I had every reason to be grateful.

Simon complimented me on my cooking, and then - Dammit! - asked me how I made it. I managed to dodge the issue and said it was quite elaborate (for me, it certainly was!) and I would let him have the full recipe later. As the other candles started to gutter, without prompting he cleared the dishes slowly one by one and went to the kitchen to start washing up. I ticked one more box: House Trained, and made a small excuse to go and check on the children. I found Jack fast asleep, but Holly's door was slightly open, in the position that Juliet normally left it, and inside Holly was doing a good imitation of being fast asleep, lying on her back with one leg akimbo. I had heard the odd floorboard creak while we were having a meal, and it didn't take much to guess that we had been carefully spied on. If Holly had actually gone to the toilet in the bathroom for once, instead of going to the toilet in her nappy as she usually did at night, it would indeed have been cause for celebration. Suspecting the worst I lifted the sheet and slipped my finger into her leg elastics to check, but thankfully it was still dry. She writhed at the unexpected touch and groaned about being so sleepy: a first rate impression from what was by now a very experienced child. I wished her a good night and slipped out, closing the door firmly behind me, and went to rejoin Simon.

Our remaining conversation tended to be more tactile than articulate, and was getting very detailed when the sound of a car outside heralded the return of Peter and Juliet. We rapidly straightened ourselves up and were looking neat and tidy by the time they came in. As Peter made for the kitchen and the kettle I was able to report to Juliet that the children were fine and had been no trouble at all. She smiled, and said she would go and look just the same. I followed her upstairs, and Jack was indeed in the land of the fairies. Juliet went into Holly's room and the poor child was subjected to yet another nappy check. I asked Juliet softly whether she ever got Holly up to use the toilet in the middle of the night, and she replied that she did sometimes, but it was a lot of fuss, and didn't seem to do any good. I remained silent, and Juliet shrugged. "Let's do it. Then you'll see the fuss it makes. Give me a hand!" and she took the bedclothes down. We pulled the protesting Holly to her feet and led her out to the bathroom. Juliet untapped her nappy and sat her on the toilet. Holly grumbled at the indignity and didn't perform until Juliet ran the taps on the washbasin. Then we hoisted Holly to her feet, re-taped her nappy, and guided her back to bed. She didn't seem to be properly awake at any stage, complained bitterly and was obviously very grateful to be returned to her bed. As we closed the door, Juliet said that the problem was that Holly slept so very deeply that the message from her full bladder simply never got through; alarms were also a dead loss for the same reason- she just slept through them. She added the litany that was so familiar "She'll grow out of it - eventually."

We rejoined the men for a nightcap. I was pleased that Peter and Simon got on so well, and realised that it made everything so much easier. I had long been used to Mother's suspicious cross-questioning of my boyfriends, and so I tried not to take them home whenever possible, and such civilised behaviour was a revelation for me. Eventually Simon really had to leave - he was on duty in the morning - and after a fairly elongated goodnight, I reluctantly watched him drive out of the gate. I had arranged to go out flat-hunting with him on Saturday, and possibly to the beach on Sunday.

As I lay in bed a little later I came to a very important decision. I had set a number of objectives for my gap year, and the important one was I wanted to lose my virginity. I didn't want to go up to Cambridge as an overgrown, overprotected schoolgirl. I wanted to talk of serious adult things with other women on equal terms, not to sit in the background because I really couldn't understand the code. The family problem had destroyed my self-confidence at school and had made it very difficult to fit in, even long after I was fully dry at night, so I really wanted to get up to speed in terms of my own self-confidence and maturity before university. I'd thought that I would do the deed with Darren, probably at Glastonbury, but looking back on it I shuddered at the thought. Simon was another matter. That I loved him I had no doubt. I just wanted a little bit of commitment from him. That, and the opportunity....

[alex 04]

thanks for the update hope to see an other one soon

[freswith]

Many thanks for your encouragement; I'm off for a week to stay with Mrs Grendel in the Lake District, so the next episode won't be available until the week after - at the earliest. There's plenty more to write!

[freswith]

Conceding the point

The following day was doubly unusual in that Holly had had a dry night, but Jack, completely out of habit, had wet the bed. He was utterly crestfallen and deeply ashamed, and although Juliet didn't scold him he had to face the merciless lash of Holly's sarcasm, long saved, well fermented, and backed by several years of seniority and enhanced language skills. When Holly took one of her nappies out of the dresser and proffered it to Jack to see if it would fit him properly his final threads of self-control began to snap, and it was obvious that we had to separate them before murder was done. Holly was told to return to her own room to mark her calendar, and I went with her as escort and to block any planned Parthian shot which might break poor Jack completely. On the back of Holly's wardrobe door the baleful document hung. At my suggestion Juliet had given up marking Holly's wet nights with a "W", and tried the more positive approach of marking the dry ones with a "D". Holly had agreed enthusiastically with this more positive approach, not least because it freed her from the almost daily humiliation of recording her bedwetting, but it also made her progress more apparent. They were pathetically sparse, but even so it was obvious they were increasing in frequency, and I gave due praise as she marked this fine morning with a "D".

We managed to keep the children from scratching each other's eyes out during breakfast, and Juliet pointedly suggested that Peter should take Jack to the beach while she took Holly into Truro to shop for a new school uniform for the coming term. When Juliet glanced towards me I volunteered for the shopping expedition; I had one or two purchases in mind for myself.

I managed to make my excuses and slip away from Juliet while she was busy with Holly, and nip across the street to another shop. I wanted to buy something special in the lingerie line; I didn't think my schoolgirl wardrobe was quite up to my present needs, or at least to my present wants, and certainly not up to what I had in mind. Something silky, small , and just to cover my tan line, or maybe, then...

By the time Juliet came to find me I had bought something ridiculously small and rather expensive, and felt rather better about myself as a result. I tucked the bag away out of sight, but not so fast as it didn't catch Holly's eager eyes. I realised I would probably have to show her what I'd bought at some stage, but certainly not here, and not when any men were around.

On the way back Juliet mentioned that she and Peter were planning a barbecue and garden party for the second weekend of the month, and asked me if I would be staying down there that long, as she would appreciate my help. I was delighted, since I wanted to stay around as long as I could. I certainly wanted to stay around Simon for as long as possible, and cheerfully volunteered my services, and Simon's as well.

By the time we had returned to the house, Peter had removed the bulk of the sand from little Jack, and the small boy regaled us with the story of the huge sandcastle they had built, of its many walls and towers, and how it had resisted all invaders until Neptune had come with his waves and finally overwhelmed it. This morning's troubles were long forgotten, and I was only reminded of it when Holly came waddling in to say goodnight to Peter and myself. By now she had entirely lost her shyness of me, and was not ashamed to be seen wandering about the house in just her pyjama top and nappy. I asked her quietly if she would like me to wake her to use the toilet later on, and she nodded assent. I was pleased that the more positive approach was working, and I was happy to provide this small service to Juliet in order to leave her more time with Peter.

As it happened, Holly was dry that night, and the one after. Three in a row: a hat trick. She was delighted, and inscribed the third consecutive "D" on her calendar with a slow, careful relish, her tongue between her teeth. I congratulated her appropriately, and said that was how it started, and Holly smiled at me in delight, and something more important to me: trust. Then I shooed her on down to breakfast. There was no time to waste, because today was the day I was going flat-hunting with Simon, and I was determined it was going to be a successful chase.

The flat was beautiful, ground floor, big rooms, decent kitchen, and part of a big old house in a sheltered corner of the village. It had once been the home of the landlady who showed us around, but now she occupied what had once been her gardener's cottage on the other side of the lawn, and lived off the rents from the flats. It wasn't cheap, but Simon didn't blink at the rent she was asking. It was rented out for three more weeks before the effective end of the tourist season and she was plainly delighted at the prospect of a long-term let through the winter and possibly much longer. She showed us round, and came to the main bedroom. I decided to tease Simon a little, and so I tested the bed by bouncing up and down on it, watching his eyes - and other parts - bulge as the landlady's smile widened into a grin. I would like to think it was that which clinched the deal. I certainly had no conscience about leading him on. I had plans for that bed, and now I also had a schedule: three more weeks.

I was back home by teatime, and my heart was flying. Peter was taking Juliet out again to a party, and I was fulfilling my part by baby-sitting - Ouch! Must avoid that word! - sitting the children. That also meant that Simon would be coming round to keep me company, it had become part of the understanding that he would do so, and become accepted to the point that Juliet didn't even give me her usual wink.

With Jack asleep, I nudged Holly towards her bedroom. She stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face me.

"Please, Vickie, can I try a night without one? Please! I've been dry for three nights in a row!"

I stopped. Perhaps I should have expected something like this. I'd been praising her progress, and it seemed I had now done a little bit too much, and the trust and confidence Holly had in me, which was a source of pleasure to me, was now all at risk. "Holly, love, it's your mother's decision, you know that. I can't do it on my own. Think what your mother would say when she found out."

"But if I'm dry, she won't ever find out, until I tell her!"

"And if you're wet, then there's the Devil to pay!"

"But I've been dry for three whole nights!"

"And how long has you mother said you have to be dry for before she'll let you out of nappies?"

"She's never actually said." replied Holly, "But three nights...!"

"Is not a lot, Holly, for the rest of your life. It's a start, I'll admit."

"How long did you have to stay dry for before your mother stopped nappying you?"

I thought back. It had certainly been a long, long time, and I remembered the pleadings I'd made. I'd worn cloth nappies, and so there was no real economic advantage for Mum, and Mum had always been so fiercely protective of me. It had been a real battle to convince her that I was dry, and even then the nappies had stayed in the cupboard for months afterwards, ready for instant deployment if I should suffer any relapse. "I think it was three months."

"Three months!" gasped Holly, "That's years! It's forever!"

"It was certainly much more than three nights. But I was only eight. Younger than you. And she never quite trusted me." I tried to make it sound less intimidating. "You're older, of course, so it might be different in your case." That went down like a lead balloon. I had to save the day. "Now come on, Simon will be here any moment, and you don't want to be nappied in front of him, do you?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I'd have no choice. I'm not going to keep him on the doorstep. I'll call him in and bring him up here. How would that be?"

Holly froze, but her eyes widened, "You'd never do that....would you?"

I just nodded slowly. I was skiing downhill now, but to avoid Holly's complete humiliation and the cost it would entail in terms of loss of trust, I had to make a concession. "Look, if you're dry tonight, I'll ask Juliet tomorrow. The least she can do is to set a tariff, a period you have to stay dry for before she lets you out of nappies."

Holly's shoulders slumped. She nodded. "Alright then. But promise you'll ask her."

I promised, and unfolded the offending garment onto the bed. Holly made no resistance, and uttered no word as I taped it up around her.

I shook out her pyjama bottoms, and said, "Come on now, then you can come down and say goodnight to Simon. I think that's his car outside." at which she brightened a little.

Simon arrived, bang on time as always, and bearing a bottle of red wine. My education in matters of viniculture had progressed in leaps and bounds under his tutelage and this was a particularly fine vintage, and we were close to finishing the bottle when I was obliged to restrain one of his wandering hands. My new underwear had been much approved, but that approval didn't extend to its unauthorised removal.

Simon, half smiling, raised his eyebrows at my protest, and I felt obliged to back it up.

"No, Simon, The Children! Not Here! Not Now!" I had hardly got the words out of my mouth before the implication hit me. The principle had been conceded, and we were now to negotiate the details. The where and the when.

"We could be very quiet." Replied Simon, "We wouldn't wake them."

I held on for a moment. "I don't know if I could be quiet." I said, "It would be my first..." and I stopped. I had said more than I'd intended. Much more, and I needed to fall back a little, regroup my forces, and regain control of the field. Simon didn't say anything for a while, but then kissed me very gently.

"I understand."

I decided that it was now or never. Simon had indeed been very patient and self-controlled, and I felt that now the matter was clearly on the agenda it was time to toe the line. "Perhaps, when you're in your flat...?" I offered. "We'd have somewhere private then..." Our eyes met, and Simon nodded, smiling quietly, then we kissed, long and slow.

[babykeiff]

Wow, wow and more wow. I love the way you write, capturing your audience with each syllable. It is enchanting how well you weave. Keep up the excellent work.

[dyperaby]

I luv this story; so well written! I look for it every time I log into the story forum. Thank you Freswith, please keep it going.

[packrat]

Awsome, very well written. Very fine detail, fleshed out without excess. Keep up the great effort.