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Views: 11865 Created: 2007.11.19 Updated: 2007.11.19

A Face in the Crowd

A Face in the Crowd

It was the first chance I'd had to visit the new ball park. One of those last minute phone calls from a friend made it possible. His company often times would hand out tickets to various sporting events. I would never pay for seats in the high rent area and so it was a special treat to be sitting so close to the field. I took the opportunity to look around at some of the fans taking their seats prior to the opening pitch. I happened to look across one section and my eyes were drawn to one particular woman. She was wearing a black course weave jacket with large rectangular belt guides on the back and an equally large fastener in front. I would guess that she was in her late thirties to mid forties and about five foot eight. Her face was what caught my attention, although at first I could not put my finger on why. She was attractive and yet not particularly beautiful, a nice broad forehead and outstanding facial features. She had on oversized earrings that seemed to match the silver belt fastener. She wore a scarf pulled tightly over the top of her head. I think it was the way she had the scarf edged up to her hairline that started my brain searching for a memory that was just out of reach.

The Astros were playing the Yankees in only the second game ever at Enron Field. The regular season was still a week off and this was a chance for everyone to become acquainted with the new facilities. The night air was fresh and clear and it was nice to be able to attend a ball game with the roof open. The Astrodome had been an okay place to go for baseball; this was more like the old time parks. The outfield fence must have been designed by a raving lunatic. There were odd angular niches where a ball might bounce off in any number of directions. There even was a flag pole stuck in the middle of the center field playing surface along with a modest hill that might be interesting in the event a ball landed in that area. I had been to Yankee Stadium back when they had the large granite blocks out on the warning track. I suppose it wouldn't make all that much difference to the outcome of any given game. I continued to survey the place, the fancy score board along with the extra large screen television that had a continuous display running. I was scanning around and found myself drawn back to where the woman was sitting a couple of isles over to my left. There was something that was very appealing to me, something familiar in a general sort of way. As the game went along, I found myself checking to see that location more than other areas in the park.

It's not that I am totally superstitious or that I believe that women in general have some kind of extra set of senses; but when a foul ball was hit into the stands farther down the way, I thought that she was waiting for me to sneak a look. Growing up I had been taught that it was not polite to stare and here I was a grown man approaching fifty unable to break off. I know that I had become preoccupied with trying to figure out why it was that she was so magnetic to my thoughts. I tried to figure out a little more about her, who might the man be sitting next to her or the young boy holding onto her. I would guess that it was her husband and child or maybe her brother and his child. The more I thought about it the less important the game became. A little later in the game I happened to look over that way and she was gone. The man and the child were still there and so I looked over my shoulder and up the long concrete path of steps that led to the main concourse. I decided it was time to get a soda, yes, a large soda and one of those huge soft pretzels with lots of salt stuck to it. It had been such a long time that I wondered why I had thought of it. The last time I had a soft pretzel was when I was a child. I wandered around the stadium looking for the vendor's station that sold them. The first one I found had the pretzels but not the ones with salt, only the kind that looked like strudel with a layer of sugar. The idea made my tongue gag and so I made my way back into the crowd, back to the other side where I had been told there were other pretzels with salt. True to my luck it was clear on the other side and I had to watch the game in short installments as I peeked through at regularly paced intervals. I stood in line and got my pretzel and a huge soda cup and it only cost me eight and a half dollars. The same thing would have cost a couple of dollars at the most anywhere else.

I stepped away from the cashier and walked over to the railing so that I could watch the game and enjoy my treat. The ball park looked like it had been transported through time from the old days. They had real grass and the evening breeze had a hint of each and every kind of food that was being sold. I could distinguish the popcorn, the hot dogs and even the beer. The natural noises, those made by thousands of excited people at a sporting event, along with those that were piped in and amplified through the speaker system made for a strange place to relax. With all that I was perfectly content to tear off a chunk of pretzel and sip on my soda.

"Are you following me?" I heard a voice off to my right and looked to see who it was that might be talking to me. I was caught off guard when to my surprise there stood that very same woman. She looked like she might be angry, or at the very least mildly irritated with me.

"No, I mean, No Ma'am." I still had a lump of dough in my mouth and I know it sounded muffled as the words came out. I took a sip and washed it down. I did notice that she also had a pretzel in her hand.

"I know that you have been watching me all night and I want you to stop. Do you hear me?" As she spoke I could hear something in her voice that also was familiar. It was almost spooky.

"I should say that I'm sorry. I know that there is no excuse and all the same I can only tell you that you remind me of someone." I paused and tried not to sound like a total moron. "I couldn't even tell you who just now." She stood in front of me and glared, her eyebrow arching menacingly. I held my pretzel out as if it were some kind of proof of my being out of step with myself. "See this?" I waved it limply so that it would not shake off the salt. "I haven't had one of these in so long that I had almost forgotten that they exist. Then tonight for some reason I had a compelling urge to buy one. The last time I had one I was only a boy and my…" The words stopped suddenly as it dawned on me who it was that had bought me my first soft pretzel. It was my Nanny, at least that is what her job title was. She was much more than that to me. I called her Lady Williams as a child. That was it, this woman reminded me of my Lady Williams. She had the same kind of scarf wrapped tightly so that it made it look like she had no hair.

"What, you want me to share your pretzel?" Her voice was loaded with sarcasm. "No thank you, I have my own." She bit off a small piece and glared at me.

"Well at least allow me to explain." I was already in over my head and so it didn't matter if I drowned in the shallow end of the pool or the deep end.

"Will this take long, or should I buy season tickets?" Thank goodness, she was going to let me try. I broke off from looking at her eyes and studied her forehead. The more I looked, the more memories returned.

"You remind me of the woman who took care of me when I was a boy. My mother died when I was very young and so my father had a woman come and live with us to take care of me and the house. I called her Lady Williams because she was from England and she would get annoyed with me if I didn't show her a proper amount of respect. Something about you triggered those ancient memories. I'm truly sorry if I caused you any worry or to be angry with me. At least I now understand what happened." The woman's features softened, and to my astonishment, turned to a pleasant glow.

"Your name wouldn't be Vernon, would it?" I looked at her with blank expression, not because it wasn't so; but, because she had gotten it right. A slight smile formed at the corner of her mouth and then made it all the way across. She knew something about me; but how?

"Yes, do I know you? I mean, I thought you reminded me of someone else, someone from very long ago and I don't think I could…" The more I spoke, the less sense I made.

"Your Lady Williams, well…" She took a breath and let it out, " … She was my mother." Was, as in past tense. Lady Williams would be in her seventies or close to it.

"Your mother?" I repeated and she began to smile again.

"Don't you remember? Think hard. When your Lady Williams lived with you she stayed in the efficiency apartment above your father's garage. Right?" How could she know that? I wrinkled my face in disbelief while at the same time nodding in the affirmative.

"Yes. She even had a small flag, the Union Jack as she called it, in the window at the top of the stairs. But, how would you know all this?" I was truly confused now as the conversation became more convoluted.

"Vernon, or should I say,. . . Master Rylan?" Her face was doing double back flips as her excitement found an outlet. There were only two people on the face of the earth who ever called me Master Rylan. One was Lady Williams and the other was her daughter. It began to make some kind of sense as I tried to remember the little girl's name. She had been a couple of years younger and so I mostly tried to ignore her back then. We used to play together in my back yard. Mostly she would have tea parties and try to get me to sit with her.

"Margaret? It is Margaret, right?" I tried hard to get the right name." Pieces of the past were fighting to surface from the cob webs.

"Princess Margaret, if you please?" She broke into laughter as she gestured and curtsied; her hand held out in front for me to acknowledge. We used to pretend that we were of noble birth, having Dukes and Earls all around as we played in the yard. She was always Princess Margaret and I was Master Rylan on my father's manor. It took a child's imagination to make my backyard into a manor. We had an old picnic table with boards so badly rotted that weeds had grown in between the cracks. There was only enough room for a small garden of fifteen or so tomato plants. We had to put a wire fence around the garden to keep the dogs out and so it looked like a jig saw puzzle in an odd sort of way.

"Princess Margaret, yes." I took her hand and bowed clumsily. We both laughed and forgot that forty years had passed since last we had said hello. The ball game played on as we leaned on the railing. It seemed odd that we were at a baseball game eating a pretzel and catching up on each other's lives. It turned out that the fellow who had been sitting next to her was her boss from work and the child was his. I wondered if she was married, if she had enjoyed her life up until now, where she lived and on and on. "Do you remember the time Mummy, I mean, Lady Williams…" Margaret tried to act refined as she pretended to have a thick English accent. "…caught us playing hospital?"

"How could I forget that?" I shook my head and focused on that afternoon. Why would Margaret remember; or better, why would she even bring it up after all these years. It was noisy standing at the back of the stadium, all the same I wondered if anyone could hear what we were talking about as I looked around. It had been a thoroughly embarrassing experience for both of us, at least it was for me. I looked at her and noticed that she had a whisper of a grin tucked neatly on her face. She was enjoying the moment, teasing me with a humiliating childhood experience, one that she must have enjoyed. I, on the other hand, felt a warm blush presenting itself on my cheeks.

"So you want to play hospital?" I tried to imitate Lady Williams' voice as best I could. It had been many years and yet I could hear her as if on a recording. "Isn't that what she said?" Lady Williams would often scold me with a stern voice. She had a different voice for each emotion, love, cheering up, disappointment or whatever.

"Very good. That sounded very much like dear Mummy." Margaret only called her Lady Williams when we were playing together. It occurred to me that Lady Williams was as much my mother as she was Margaret's.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, was it?" I must have made a face that showed my displeasure, or at least the memory of it.

"I suppose not." I lightened up a bit, "I lived through it and here I am." We had been married once, not a real marriage. She had on her going to church Sunday dress one afternoon in the middle of Summer. I must have said something about how she looked that pleased her. The next thing I knew she had me kneeling in front of the short hedge that separated my back yard from my neighbors. I remember giving her a Necco wafer instead of a wedding ring and she told me that we were now man and wife. I can't go past the candy counter at the store without being reminded by a roll of Neccos. I looked at Margaret and noticed that the railing was taking the place of the back yard hedges. She had a serene look on her face, as if there were no others, and yet we were at a baseball park with forty thousand noisy fans.

"Looks like its time to leave." We stood at the railing to watch a replay of the winning home run as soared over the right field fence on the television monitor above us. "You better find your boss or he'll start to worry about you."

"Hold on a second." She reached for a small digital phone that was on her belt. With one push of a button she dialed the memory slot and watched from across the ball field as her boss picked up his matching phone and answered it. "Harry, I'm sorry to have missed most of the game. I met my ex-husband here at the park and…" Margaret lifted both eyebrows into a smile, " …he wants to get back together." She paused only long enough to be sure that the first line had been heard above the din. "I'll see you Monday morning and explain it all. Be careful on the way home and thanks for the evening out." We both smiled as she folded the mouthpiece and turned it off.

"Ex-husband?" I gave her one of those fish story looks. Why would she have made that up for her boss? All she had to say was that she met an old friend and it would have been as effective.

"Well, you did give me a Necco, or was that just a one night stand?" She had me there. The Necco marriage vows were still in place. It didn't matter that she was only seven and I was only nine when we pledged our souls for all eternity at the hedge row. I had never given a Necco wafer to any other girl and so we must still be married.

"I need to let my friend know that I won't be riding home with him. Come, walk with me and I'll introduce you to him." We walked against the current of fans as they made it towards the exits. Al was still sitting there wondering where I had gone off to, a grumpy scowl had embedded itself on his face. The problem with Al was that it was hard to tell his new grumpy face from the one he wore the rest of the time.

I thought maybe you got mugged or something". Al had not been pleased with the location of the new ball park. He figured there was a reason why downtown looked like a garbage can and stunk like one. "You know, all these fine upstanding citizens who sleep under the bridges and all?" Al could be a real downer when he got on his soap box.

"Al, this is Margaret…" I ignored most of what he said anyway. "…my sister. I was getting my pretzel and we just happened to notice each other while waiting in line." My story was even more lame than hers.

"I thought you told me your sister lived way off somewhere, like Maine or something?" Al gave me one of those looks like, "Sure, and Mother Teresa too."

"She did and now she's here. I thought I would let her drive me home so we could catch up on old times, okay with you?" It really wasn't any of his business, I just wanted him to know that I had other plans for the night and that he would have to listen to the sports talk show alone. Al twisted his neck and shook his head prior to walking off. He was noticeably perturbed as he waved without looking back to see if I returned the gesture.

"Sister? You think of me as your sister?" Now Margaret was acting as if I had insulted her.

"What did you think I should say? Hey Al, this is Margaret. When we were younger her mother used to give us our enemas together." I gave her a quick grin.

"Okay, I guess I was more like your sister anyway." Now she was disappointed. We started to walk up the steps toward the exit ramps. I didn't want it to end like that.

"Princess Margaret, would you care to dine with me?" I held out my arm for her and she took it.

"It would be an honor Sir." Margaret giggled and added, "I always like a good meal before getting; or giving an enema." I must have stopped moving up the steps as the impact of what she had said reached me. "You didn't think I was going to pass up a chance to play hospital with my old friend, now did you?" I thought about how young we were once a long time ago. We never did anything, at least not anything that would merit continuing the hospital thing. I had to admit that as an adult she had kept herself in good shape. I had a few pounds extra hanging on my belt that I was comfortable with. I still had it in the back of my mind that women, this one in particular, could read my mind and always could. It was like I had told her out right that I would enjoy playing out the hospital roles with her once more. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off her well rounded bum. The blue jeans and boots gave her a certain look, how to say it, naked with cloths on? I could see myself closing my eyes and letting her place me across her lap for an enema. I grew hard and had to adjust myself to keep from pinching. She was very direct about what she wanted and I found myself returning the honesty.

"So, you enjoy enemas, do you? The truth be known, so do I." My answer left no doubt as to how I would like to finish the evening. The only thing left to do was to figure out how to get home. Neither of us had a vehicle since we had come as guests in somebody else' car.

"My castle is only a couple of miles from here and we can catch a cab; unless of course, you'd rather we go to your castle, Master Rylan." I said nothing and let her continue. Margaret tugged on my hand as she waved at the taxi who was next in line. "My castle it is. You probably don't have a bar of peppermint soap anyway." I didn't answer her last remark. Over the years I had come to prefer the liquid version that came ready to use in the squeeze bottle. I saw no reason to create a problem over something so trivial. "I'm sorry, did you say Castle or Castile?" We got in the cab and she gave him the address, over in the Heights. When we got there it was already around midnight. I paid the fare and we walked to the front door of her home. It was one of those old houses that had been made over so that it looked and felt like the rest of the neighborhood and yet had all the modern conveniences. "So, what do you think of my place?" Margaret had done a good job and kept it simple. The hard wood floors were bright and clean, area rugs broke up the spaces and the furniture all made the house very inviting. She took me on the nickel tour starting with the kitchen, where we both grabbed a sandwich. Neither of us had wanted to waste a lot of money at the ball game. After gulping down a few bites she showed me the study with her computer and some pictures that she had of her mother. We sat on the sofa while we turned the pages from the past and reminded us of how much we had shared.

"It is a beautiful house. Are you going to show me the rest?" She led me down a dark hall and with her hand reaching for the light switch she showed me that the bathroom and her bedroom were not partitioned at all. There was an old free standing cast iron tub in the center of the room. It had one of those oval curtain frames suspended from the high ceiling. The shower curtain was drawn fully but I could still make out the familiar shape of a fountain syringe hanging on the other side. There was a matching pedestal sink with a vanity against the wall. The toilet was not at all modern and had its water tank high in the air with its flush handle hanging in the air. The floor was one huge ceramic tile mosaic with a bath mat rug on either side of the tub, another in front of the sink and one more by the toilet. At a point roughly half way across the room the tiled floor was halted and the rest of the room had been finished with red oak planking. Her bed was on the other side of the room with a pair of night tables on each side. There were no walk in closets, and so she had a variety of oak units against the wall for her clothing and what ever else needed to be out of sight. She went over to the vanity and sat on the bench, patting her lap as if it should mean something to me.

"You should know by now what is expected of you." Margaret had her brow raised, much as she had when she approached me at the ball park earlier in the evening. I could not understand until she got up, walked to the night stand and grabbed a hair brush. With that she returned to the bench, patted her lap once and pointed. I remembered having to lay across Lady Williams lap when I had behaved badly. She would not yell or even raise her voice. Lady Williams would sit on that very bench, pat her lap and point until I submitted to the brush. I began to unbutton my shirt and then my trousers. I almost fell over when my foot got hung in the cuff. I wasn't prepared to strip completely until I saw her shaking her head. I then stepped out of my underwear and left them on top of the pile there on the floor. I then eased myself onto her lap silently. In no time at all she applied the hair brush to my bum with a rapidity of strokes so severe as to cause me to yelp.

"I'm sorry that I caused you to become angry Lady Margaret." I knew that by changing my address from Princess Margaret to Lady Margaret that I would be accepting her domination over me. I could only hope that her ability to love me would come close to that of her mother.

"My dear boy, you know how much I care for you and that you need this spanking for your improvement?" As far back as I could remember Lady Williams would call me into the house on Saturday night for an early meal, my bath and then an enema prior to sending me off to bed. It was her belief that by doing so I would be clean and ready for church bright and early Sunday morning.

"Yes Lady Margaret. I am ready for my enema now." That is how it had to be done when I was nine years old. I had to ask for her to give me my enema. It was a matter of submission rather than being physically overpowered. She knew that I had to submit of my own will for her to accomplish anything. The whole relationship was based on my knowing that she cared enough for my well being that I would do anything she instructed me to.

"Then I will prepare it for you since you asked so nicely." With that she got up, opened the shower curtain and began running the water. She walked over to one of the large free standing closets and took out a fresh wash cloth, a bar of soap and a slender black enema nozzle. She worked the wash cloth around the soap until it was covered with a froth of lather and then placed it within the abyss of the open topped fountain syringe. As the water filled the bag the soap was transferred from the wash cloth and into the bag. She then wrung out the wash cloth making sure that every drop ended up in the bag. Margaret then returned to the bench, hanging the bag on a wrought iron hook that I had not noticed until that moment. She then opened the vanity drawer and took out something else which I was quite familiar with. It was fairly large piece of rubber cloth which she draped across her lap and upon which I was to place myself during the administration of the enema. She patted the top of her lap and pointed, not saying a word and I carefully returned to her lap.

"Now you know that you don't have to do this if you don't want to." It was a reminder that I was the one who was requesting her to give me an enema as opposed to being forced into taking the enema.

"I am ready for my enema Lady Margaret. Please forgive me for anything that might have caused you to worry about me." I was pleading with her just as I had done with her mother. I did love the woman and so I would have done anything she asked of me.

"There now, you relax and let me take care of you." She began to stroke the back of my neck with her fingers. Then, as I begged for more she extended the area so that eventually she was teasing my bum. Margaret dipped her finger into a jar of lubricating jelly that she had there on the vanity. Then she placed the tip of her finger against my anus and pressed against me until I let her enter me. I was nine years old all over again as she wiggled her finger around.

"Young man it's a good thing you have someone to care for you." She had a motherly tone in her voice as the end of her finger found something solid and had much more behind it. "There now, there's nothing to be afraid of. Lady Margaret will have all that cleaned out in a jiffy." She removed her finger, sliding it out slowly, twisting it so that it almost made a sucking sound when it left. I hadn't heard the word "jiffy" in years.

"Yes, Lady Margaret." I took a deep breath and let it all out, signifying my abandonment to her. When she was sure that I was totally in her power she inserted the nozzle ever so gently and opened the clamp. The soapy water went in and I reacted by rocking across her lap. I know that she enjoyed the rocking because she would let out a little sigh every now and again and her legs would roll under me as if to wrap themselves around me. I hadn't known what it all meant when Lady Williams had me on her lap. She must have enjoyed the giving part much more than I realized until now. Margaret was massaging my bum and making odd little cooing sounds as I rocked across her lap. The bag drained rather quickly and made a loud sucking sound when it was empty.

"May I get up now Lady Margaret?" I knew by the way that her arm wrapped itself around my waist that I would have to lay there for a while longer.

"You have done such a good job, don't you think it would be better if you let the enema do its job too?" Lady Williams would have said it the same way. I could remember having her hold my bum with her hands to help me keep the enema inside.

"Has it been long enough yet?" I begged and was released from her grip. The moment I sat down on the toilet seat I felt the gushes of soap and sludge explode below me. I waited for a while and another blast gurgled and then splashed into the bowl.

"I'm so proud of you Master Vernon. You can come over here and get rinsed now." Margaret was bent over the large rolled metal edge of the tub wall cleaning the soap film from the fountain syringe lining. She had taken off her blouse and I could tell that she had not worn a bra because there were no marks on her pale white skin. I climbed into the tub and rested against the tub wall with my head on her shoulder. I don't know why; but I could feel tears running down my cheeks and I had a strong desire to hug her while she filled the bag with fresh warm water for my rinse out enema. She started the flow prior to placing the nozzle into my anus. The water was nice and warm as it swept off any residual matter that was on my bum.

"Now, don't you feel better already?" I was nose to nose, so to speak, with one of her nipples as it danced in front of me. It only took a moment for me to encircle it with my lips and begin sucking and caressing it. Margaret did not mind and pressed her breast firmly to my mouth, so much so that it was difficult to breathe without gasping. Margaret directed the stream that was coming out of the nozzle directly at my anus. The closer the nozzle got the more I could tell that some of the water was actually penetrating the barrier. The next thing I knew, the nozzle had gone past without me having even felt it. When the bag was about half way drained, Margaret added some more water, even warmer than before. She held the bag higher so that it would go in faster. I sucked harder and her nipples responded with even more passion. I was glad that I was in the tub as opposed to being across her lap when I could no longer control the escaping water. The soap was all rinsed out and I was hard as a rock, dripping pre-cum from all the stimulation. Margaret pulled away and my mouth was left empty. When she stood up I noticed that she was twisting her legs and breathing more heavily.

"If you would prefer, I can close the curtain and let you clean up in there?" While Margaret pulled the curtain shut and I noticed that both of her nipples were standing straight out and that the skin around them was all swollen and hard. I turned the faucets on full blast, the water pounded on my neck. I must have stood there for a good ten minutes as I let the enema go down the drain. As soon as I was done she opened the curtains and handed me a towel to dry off with. She had taken off her clothes and stood before me. The last time I had seen her standing naked before me she had been a little girl and I a little boy. We had changed quite a bit since then as I noticed the full crop of hair between her legs.

"Can we reverse roles now?" She was almost begging as her big brown eyes pouted at me. I was nearly exhausted from the long day. She stepped into the shower and turned on the shower, letting the spray land on her face. I watched her as she turned around, bending so that the water would bounce off her bum. The water running across her skin made little rivulets, like clear veins that changed direction continually as gravity guided the waters down her beautiful bum. I wanted to mount her right there in the shower as I gazed on her. Instead I was overtaken with trembling, a mixture of desire and from being totally drained of my energies.

"How about we go to bed for now, then in the morning, after having given ourselves a chance to recover I will be honored to switch roles." It would be a pleasure indeed. We both got into bed and she pulled the covers up. The lights dimmed as she turned the adjusting knob that had been built into her night stand. In only a moment we were together as one. Knowing that I was all but exhausted, Margaret provided the necessary movement by rolling over on top of me. It was a wonderful feeling being inside of her. I fell off to sleep with one of her nipples in my mouth and her arms wrapped around me. It was time to dream of how I could return the favor in the morning.


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