Goodness, here we are at the last chapter of this little comedic melodrama. I am so grateful for your response. You make my shrivel dead heart pitter-pat just like it used to. Beachcomberlc is in possession of a youthful, lush beating heart big enough to forgive me all manner of foolish mistakes and inconsistencies.

Thank you for reading.

Chapter 9

Dear Diary,

If I were forced to, I would have to say that the last six weeks have been the longest in my entire life. Mother and Father arrived just shy of a week early. The house was almost ready for them, I had been touching it up with a lick of paint and some gay curtains. Edward had been sent to Saskatoon for some training and I was missing him when my father knocked on our door. I was shocked when I opened the door to see he and my mother, soaked to the skin, looking like something the cat might drag in. They had hired a cab to bring them here, but gave the wrong address. We live on Elm Tree Street. Mother gave the driver Elm Street. The resulting argument with the driver found them evicted and forced to walk across town in the rain. Mother had been further embarrassed by having to carry some of her own baggage. Nonetheless, they arrived. I had tea and warm stew to offer them, as well as a bed ready.

Mother had two days to lecture me before Edward came home. I endured. Mother was appalled by the size of our home, the fact that I cooked and worked and the state of my wardrobe. We almost came to blows before I reminded her that I was an adult, a married woman and no longer her little girl. She burst into tears, dear diary, and I was fit to be tied. Father and I just sat and watched her display more emotion in one afternoon than she had in the last twenty years.

Just as she gathered herself together, Edward walked in the door. Wearing his formal dress uniform, he stood in the doorway and assessed our parlour for a moment before removing his hat and introducing himself to my parents. It did not escape my notice that while Edward was assessing our guests, they were assessing him as well. Father looked at him with ire at first, with a wariness of one commanding male encountering another. Edward cut a very intimidating figure in his dress uniform. The fact that he was much taller and more broad through the shoulder than Father also added to his stature. But it was Mother's reaction that took the cake. As he stood there, a slow smile crept across his face, lighting up his features and increasing his handsomeness. I had trouble catching my breath at the sight. My mother damn, yes I swore, she damn near melted into a puddle at the first look of him. When he kissed her cheek, my mother, the harridan doyenne of Kingston, simpered like a twelve-year-old girl.

As Edward addressed Father, shaking his hand and being polite, mother ran her hand over her hair, straightened her skirts and I swear I saw her push up her bosom. She forced Father from the davenport and insisted Edward sit beside her. She looped her arm through his and patted his knee before barking at me to fetch Edward a cup of tea and a sweetmeat. Poor Edward looked agog and a little frightened as I left the room. As I warmed the tea, I could hear mother's laughter, more like a titter, high-pitched and girly, so Edward must have said something amusing. The rest of the evening, throughout dinner and into the night, she hung on his every word, her eyes twinkling. I could see Father go from angry, by the set of his upper lip and the twitch of his moustache, to entertained by her antics.

I was absolutely mortified to hear faint moaning and, oh my poor ears, grunting coming from the guest bedroom just a few moments after we had all retired for the night. There were only two bedrooms in our tiny house, crammed in under the eaves and sloped roof. Edward found it exceedingly difficult to hold in his mirth at my embarrassment. As far as I knew, my parents no longer partook of that activity in their twilight years. By what I imagined of my mother, they had only ever performed that act once, to conceive me, and then washed their hands of it. It was the single most disturbing thing I have ever listened to in my entire life.

Mother flirted with Edward for the duration of their visit. She touched him constantly. He found it funny, I found it draining.

They stayed for three weeks.

They stayed for three long weeks.

Mother loosened her corsets, or whatever it was that had her so priggish for her entire life. Towards the end, I actually felt as though she liked me. She rolled up her sleeves and cooked with me. She helped me with the housework; she delighted in sweeping, she thought it was fun. She tried to give me marital relations advice, but I refused to engage with her on the topic. We did discuss other topics pertinent to life as a lady. Come to find out, Mother is going through the change of life and she is not shy to talk about it. This coming from a woman who couldn't say 'breast' to me as I was growing up for fear it was too salacious a word for my tender ears. Father toured the town with Edward, introducing himself to all the men of industry. They brought us a wireless radio from the Eaton's catalogue for our wedding present, as well as a large sum for our bank account. I found I was sad to see them go; thankful that they left, but sad as well.

Dear Diary,

I have a secret. I think I may be with child. I don't dare tell Edward yet, not until I'm certain. I've arranged a visit to the doctor tomorrow. If he confirms it, then I'll tell Edward. To be honest, I'm not that surprised I fell pregnant. Edward has been insatiable since Mother and Father were here. I think the three weeks of abstinence took a toil on him and he's been making up for lost time over the last two months.

It was a might awkward when we were first married. It took a few weeks until that aspect of our marriage ran smoothly. Poor Edward had the patience of a saint with me. The tension of the first few days of our marriage on the train served to inflame his masculinity. Unpropitiously I grew more and more frightened as the hours ticked by. When we arrived at the hotel, he was more than ready and I was a grueling puddle of nerves. Not that I didn't want him. Good Lord, I wanted that man something fierce, but I was apprehensive about the act itself. I had never seen an unclothed man before. I had only ever seen one of those in drawings or sculpture. They always struck me as an odd, floppy, dangly appendage. I couldn't see what all the fuss was about and why having that piece of flesh was so very important it allowed men to rule the world.

When Edward undressed with his back to me, I was struck by the beauty of the male form. The trim waist and slim hips, strong legs and back, and those broad shoulders. I sat in the bed transfixed. I have to admit I stared openly and longingly at his well-shaped buttocks. However, when he turned to face me and I saw his John Thomas fully engorged, pointing towards me and bobbling slightly, I was so shocked, I screamed. Not so loud as to alert the neighbours, but loud enough to make Edward's steps falter. He rushed to the bed and tried to console me, but I couldn't take my eyes from his tallywacker. It was massive, dark red at the end and hairy at the base. Edward had to take hold of my shoulders and shake me to get my attention. Of course the motion of him shaking me made his whanger wave about. I was afraid to blink and that little hole at the end, it was as if it were looking back at me.

I calmed enough to stop screaming and looked at my husband's face. He asked after my condition, if I was all right, if there was anything troubling me. I pointed to his staff and said, "that, that thing is bothering me".

Edward looked down at his pride and joy and blushed beetroot red. "Oh Bella." He tried to calm me more, but failed miserably. "It is supposed to look like that. I won't hurt you, darling. But we are married. We are supposed to, to … um … be together."

He tried to distract me with a soft kiss but I wasn't having any of it.

"You are not coming anywhere near me with that thing. I don't give a tinker's dam what we are supposed to do, but I'm not doing anything with that."

Dear, dear diary, my ever patient husband kissed me and held me, soothed my nerves and gently ignited a fire within me through his caresses. It was a slow burning fire for it took a few weeks until I enjoyed the act. And then a few more weeks until I really, really enjoyed it almost as much as Edward seemed to enjoy it. Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate it. I really enjoyed feeling and seeing Edward reach the pinnacle of human pleasure and I took some pleasure in the lead up, but not the act itself. We tried a few things to increase my pleasure. All manner of positions and locations for our lovemaking was tried, to the point I needed a few days from it to recuperate. It was then we discovered pleasuring each other with our mouths and hands as well as our...parts. At first I found the idea repulsive but Edward convinced me to try. While I find the taste foul, the control I have over his pleasure is a heady thing and I find I really like that. In fact, I found I could make him succumb to his ecstasy much faster if I use a little goose grease and slip my little finger up his …

The book slammed shut with a clap as the reader dropped it, not quite flinging it to the floor.

"Mum, Mum? I found Great-Granny's diary!"

"Oh good. She was quite the fine lady. I'd love to read it. You're named after her, you know that right, Bella?

AN: I believe you should be reading hikingurl, sukiethree and lizziepaige.