Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #30

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Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #30

… Princess  Olla holds up the Paris creation against her body, not about to let on that she herself has spent time wearing it…

Cotillion dress

That same Friday night, in the less contentious environs of Tallahassee, society’s’ finest prepare for tomorrow and the anticipated Summer Cotillion. It unofficially marks the average annual easing of the “lazy days”, as the sun mercifully starts to drop from its zenith overhead. Shadows begin to lengthen and the dogs come out from under their back porches.

Martha Ferrell prepares for the event by unpacking her favorite gown, first checking for damage from last year’s gala, i.e. footprints on the hem from ballroom challenged partners, or traces of champagne and hors d’oeuvre or third most likely culprit, moth-eaten holes. Lastly, and most important of all, the issue of whether her almost five gallons fits into this three gallon (satin) container.

“What do you think, Agnes?” She does an awkward pirouette in the dress, tailored for her six years ago; a present honoring her fortieth year.

“Maybe we could let out the sleeves some. It looks tight above the elbows.”

“Yes I think you are right.” She confirms the mirror’s reflecting truth, without vain regret.

Agnes is wearing a gown that her mother wore the year before she was born. She has matured at an scary rate, nearly… no definitely surpassing mom’s womanhood; filling in the spaces and providing the kind of cleavage that may well cause the hormone levels of men aged twelve to infinity to rise measurably.

“My, haven’t you blossomed, my dear. Girls are developing faster every year, it seems,” Martha concludes correctly.

Two generations of “real” women are joined by an admirer of both.

“Why Nessie, I remember your mamma when she wore that dress, her first Cotillion I reckon. So beautiful and so graceful,” He muses, then reconsidering, “But you better wait some years before you become a mother. If you weren’t my daughter, I would guess you for a twenty year old college girl.  You are saving yourself, aren’t you?”

“Oh, Daddy,” Agnes (Nessie) blushes, which rhyme with messy, a nickname, as well as her bedroom comportment, “of course I am. You don’t allow me to have suitors!”

Cotillion dress“All right, point well stated.” She is behind many of her peers and he knows it. “It’s just that you look so grown up.” John turns his attention to his wife. “And as for you my dearest, forget about altering your dress.” He peeks around the corner, into the hall to motion to Olla. “I think this one will assure of being belle of the ball.”

  Olla displays the Paris creation, this time merely holding it up against her body, not about to let it be known that it was her own very skin which spent time as Martha’s surrogate mannequin.

The new owner rushes to it, stroking the rose colored satin, admiring the Parisian lace and trying not to shed tears of joy.

The incredible irony of the moment is lost on the ignorant.

  • “Oh mother, you must try it on straight away,” encourages Agnes.
  •  Before she obliges, Martha turns to say, “John Ferrell, life with you is one big surprise.”
  •  John Ferrell is telling himself, ‘Wheeewww, I’m sure glad she will never know the truth’.
  •  Princess Olla/Laura Bell mutters, “Surprises ain’t always good ones, Miss Martha,” under her breath.

Alpha Omega M.D.

Episode #30


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Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #23

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Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #23

…Ferrell’s Folly – The Tail Wagging the Dog

Tail & Dog-001

“Go into the bedroom and turn down the bed.” A spell has come over John Ferrell, all of his senses vacating the premises. “I will towel off.”

He grabs a robe, which just so happens to be Martha’s, but it could well have been burlap instead of silk, for all he knows. Turning the corner into the bedroom, he sees Laura waiting nervously, seated with back facing him.

“Please stand up. I want to see you.”

Laura stands, slowly turning like a model at a Paris fashion show.

“You look absolutely lovely, Laura.” Amazingly, he is still picturing Martha in the dress. It will indeed fit and she will be just as beautiful in it.

“I think we should redo the bed,” she says, a last gasp at reversing this trend.

“Let me help you out of that dress.” He lights up at the chance. “There must be twenty of these pearls. How did you ever get them all fastened?” A girls’ secret.

Fantasy-001One by one, slowly savoring each, John makes his way to the very small of her back, lightly kissing her soft shoulders, the skin of a servant never stepping into the toughening sun of the laborers’ field. From the clavicle to the crevasse of her young spine, he gently attends to every square inch.

She is relaxed to that fabled melting point threshold. He has adroitly reached around her front to cup her delighted breasts, drawing her bottom against the extent of his manhood. For new sensations, she reacts with Mother Nature as her guide.

Laura’s ecstasy is so pure, untainted by previous pathetic partners of varying talent and enthusiasm; she reaches orgasm easily, while urging her boss to synchronize their pleasure. Together they erupt, Laura thrashing about with his mouth suctioning blood to the surface of her neck.

“Oooooooooooo……..ooohhh…………aaaaaaaaaahhhh,” she moans. Afterglow will soon set in, when she will take the memory of the experience and file it away, not wanting to let go of it.

John Ferrell’s “feeling” is best described as after-guilt. By stealing love in a moment of weakness, he has sacrificed pride and character for a filthy secret he now has to protect at all costs. He does, however, also protect this princess’ emotional well-being. There is no reason for her to suffer anguish at such a delicate time.

Princess Olla also spares John Ferrell his anguish, first by not clinging to that which she knows is not hers and secondly proceeding from this point in a professional manner. “I’ll be cleanin’ the beddin’, Joh__, I mean Master Ferrell.”

“You can call me John, Laura, but only we are alone,” he urges. “But not this alone, if you catch my drift.”

“I do, gracious master. And I want to thank you for your wonderful gift of love. I pray that I be meetin’ a man just like you. I always been thinkin’ that Miss Martha was the luckiest woman in the South… now I know.” She touches his cheek tenderly. “And the answer is yes.”

“What is the question?” he asks cautiously.

“I believe that dress will fit Miss Martha just fine,” she concludes, “but it’s most likely to BE a skinch tighter about her hips.”

That is what is called a zinger, but John takes it in the proper context; tush and touché.

Life goes on.


Alpha Omega M.D.

Episode #23


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