Ocean Crossing

Devon had learned from his father at an early age how to manipulate people, gain their confidence to get what he wanted, and he was rather gifted in the grift. He had only just arrived at the pier but had quickly spotted the perfect mark.

The man was dressed well, certainly too well for the Southampton docks from which the ship embarked. He was accompanied by an older woman of means, dressed to the nines with multiple men and women in her entourage carrying their baggage. His guessed they were from London, wealthy, perhaps minor royalty. From the sheer volume of luggage, they were bringing, it looked as though they might be leaving England behind for New York.

Devon could be whomever he wanted to be in order to con someone. As a confidence man, he could become anyone he needed for his sham. He was further gifted in reading people, finding what was important to them and using it as a weapon against their mistrust. As he watched these two, son and mother, he quickly gleaned what he needed. The man was likely a homosexual given his mannerisms; they were ever too slightly flamboyant. As well, his suit was high end but had just a few extra flourishes, subtle but damning. The woman was clearly his mother; there was no mistaking maternal dissapointment. As they stood waiting to be let on board at the first-class gangway, she did not hesitate to nitpick him.

Devon moved closer in the milling crowd to listen in. Soon the man struck up a conversation with a young handsome member of the ship’s crew. The steward looked dashing in his uniform and clearly the man couldn’t help himself. Within moments the mother had inserted herself into their conversation effectively breaking them up.

“For Pete’s sake Reginald, can you please stop fraternizing with the help. That’s what’s got us in this situation to begin with.”

“Yes, Ma-ma,” resigned the man, reaching into his coat pocket for his cigarette case.

Devon surmised the man, Reginald, must have created such a social stir in London that they were forced to move to New York to start over and possibly find him a bride for what would undoubtedly be a sham marriage.

“Well, he’s as good a mark as anyone,” Devon thought to himself. “And First Class will be a much nicer way to cross the ocean.”

He himself was booked in second class as he was traveling by himself and preferred to save his shekels.

He had eight days to work with before they would arrive in New York. Plenty enough time to become an indispensable friend to Reginald.

Devon took the first half day after they embarked to get his bearings on the ship and to formulate a plan. He started by commandeering the necessary passes and papers to freely move about the first-class sections of the ship. A picked pocket and a subtle forgery were all he needed to be seated in the first-class dining room or move about the first-class deck.

Devon arrived at breakfast the next morning just as they opened and waited. It wasn’t long before he saw the man, Reginald, enter the dining room by himself. Devon casually rose from his table, circled the room and made a point to bump into the man.

“Pardon me old chap,” he said, laying on a pretend Eton upbringing thickly.

“Not at all,” replied Reginald, “one’s balance is never assured aboard ship, is it?”

“Too right. Still, I must apologize. Please, join me for your breakfast, won’t you? Perhaps I can make up for my clumsiness with my good conversation?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” said Reginald cheerily eyeing him. “Reginald LaMark”

“Ah, Devon Highbridge, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine, I daresay,” responded Reginald.

He liked the look of this man and he was desperate to have someone beside his mother to socialize with on the trip. The two talked for more than an hour after they had finished their morning meal and Reginald was more than flirty with Devon. Devon, wanting to get closer to the man, flirted back. It wasn’t the first time he had pretended to be a homophile to seduce a man into giving him what he wanted. And there was always the prospect of blackmail.

Before they parted for the day, Reginald asked if Devon wouldn’t care to join them for dinner that evening.

“Of course, my mother will be there as well, so the conversation may not be as lively, but I think we could still make a time of it. What do you think?”

“It would be my great honor,” replied Devon jovially.

“Excellent. See you at eight o’clock sharp then.”

At the agreed to hour, Devon turned up in white tie and flipped the tails of his coat out as the porter held the chair for him. Reginald and his mother the Dowager Lady LaMark had already been seated when he arrived moments later.

Lady LaMark studied the man intently during dinner. It did not take long for her to understand something was off about him. He was obviously pretending to be something he was not; she was certain of that much. Reginald, poor Reginald, she thought, could not see what she saw. He could never see what she saw in people. Nonetheless, the circumstances called for decorum, so she said nothing, waiting to see what Mr. Highbridge might do to tip his hand. Besides, she decided she liked him, despite his obvious lack of moral compass. She let the men retire for drinks and cigars while she took her nightcap to the suite.

*****

Even the best schemes run into trouble from time to time. Devon could not have known that the Lady LaMark was such an early riser. As he tried to quietly leave Reginald’s bedroom the next morning, he was greeted by the Lady LaMark in the suite’s parlor.

“I see it was a late night, Mr. Highbridge,” she called out, startling the man.

She put her teacup back down in the saucer as Devon slowly turned to her. He had not yet gotten his jacket on or tied his shoes.

“Lady LaMark, good morning,” he replied, trying to sound chipper.

His mind raced, how best to cover. He noted a small gold pendant hanging from the necklace around her neck, a triquetra, the trinity circle. Interesting, he thought to himself.

“What a lovely pendant Lady LaMark,” he remarked cheerfully.

Lady LaMark took the pendant and slid back down her neck under the dressing gown out of sight.

“And good morning to you,” she said impertinently. “I trust you slept well?”

The tone of her greeting spoke volumes to Devon. He would need to tread lightly.

Lady LaMark stood, setting her tea down on a side table as she did. She was still in her dressing gowns but well covered as there were likely to be servants coming and going if she were awake.

She took a moment, inhaling then exhaling as if calming herself.

“Sit and have tea with me, won’t you?” she started, less of a question and more of a command.

“Ah…certainly ma’am,” he replied bowing slightly in courtesy.

Lady LaMark moved over to the sideboard set next to the suite’s small dining table and removed a small bag from the tea caddy. He watched as she put some tea leaves into a silver tea strainer before replacing the bag into the caddy. She brought the strainer back over to the table where the tea service was set and placed the silver strainer on top of one of the cups before slowly pouring the hot water over it.

“Sugar?”

“No ma’am, thank you.”

“Good boy,” she replied approvingly. “Now, won’t you have a seat,” she instructed him, pointing to a chair opposite hers.

He took his place and she brought him the tea she had poured, first removing the strainer. She then retook her seat, picking back up her own cup and saucer.

“To your health,” she said coolly to him.

“And to yours, cheers,” Devon tried to say cheerfully.

They both took a sip of their tea. To Devon’s surprise, the tea was actually rather lovely, perhaps the best he’d ever had. He would need to ask her what blend it was if he made it out of this conversation he thought.

“It would seem my son, is rather fond of you,” she started. “Just what exactly are your intentions with him?”

It was an odd question to ask a grown man, but it didn’t surprise him she would be so direct. She didn’t seem to suffer fools well and he was certain her son had brought her enough grief in his almost thirty years.

“I beg your pardon ma’am?”

She paused for a moment, letting the room grow silent as she sat sizing him up.

“My son has many wonderful traits but picking his friends does not seem to be one of them.”

Devon sipped his tea again, wondering if he should respond or let her rant. It really was delicious tea he thought to himself. He had emptied half the cup before he’d even realized it.

The two sat for a bit quietly before Lady LaMark again broke the silence.

“I wonder if I might ask that you let Reginald spend the day with me. We have much to talk about and I find his interests tend to lie elsewhere. Would you do that for me?”

Devon drained the last of his teacup. That seemed a reasonable request, besides, given Reginald’s advances the night before, he was not worried; Reginald would find him soon enough.

Lady LaMark noted his empty teacup.

“Another cup?” she asked rhetorically and arose again.

She duplicated the prior process and soon held out a fresh cup of her wonderful tea. Devon took it graciously and did not hesitate to take another sip of the warm liquid.

“So, we’re agreed? You’ll let me have the day with him and we can reconvene for dinner?”

“Certainly, Lady LaMark. I look forward to seeing you both at dinner.”

“Very good. We will have our drinks here in the suite first. 7 o’clock sharp please,” she said matter-of-factly.

Devon noted the time and smiled. He did like the cocktail hour before hand. The two sat quietly for just a moment before Lady LaMark broke the silence.

“Well, why don’t you finish your tea and be off. I have a full day I must prepare for.”

Devon smiled again. In another circumstance he would quite like this old bird. He drained his cup and replaced it and the saucer on the table in front of his chair. He rose and bid Lady LaMark a good day, then turned and exited the suite out into the first-class hallway.

As he returned to his cabin, he realized he had forgotten to ask about the tea.

“Never mind,” he thought to himself. “I’ll inquire at dinner.”

It had been a long evening and Devon had not slept much. Reginald, for all his talk, was just that and the man had yammered into his ear all night. If he hadn’t been so wealthy, Devon would have cut his losses and returned to his own cabin. No, it was worth the effort he had reminded himself and so let the young homophile chat all night before they both fell asleep in the wee early morning hours.

Devon would have no troubles falling asleep for the rest of the day once he got back to his own cabin. Besides, the tea seemed to be ushering in a calm sleepiness he knew would have him out the minute he hit his bed.

He had been correct about the sleep. He awoke again sometime mid-day with a weird sort of cramp in his lower belly. He hadn’t drunk that much the night before and hadn’t eaten since dinner, so he wasn’t sure if it was something he had eaten disagreeing with him or if he might just be hungry. He got up a little wobbly and relieved himself before returning to his bed. His bones seemed to ache a bit, but he rationalized this as the effect of traveling and a poor mattress. He had intended to get up and walk the deck seeing if he could find another mark but found it easier to lay his head back down.

Before he knew it, he was out again.

He awoke with a start and noticed the light was fading in his room. He noted how tired he still was and how his bowels still ached a bit, almost like they were sore.

He pulled his watch to his face and looked to see where the small hand was.

6:45 PM.

He would be late!

A sudden panic rose in him, and he jumped from the bed.

He scrambled around and found a fresh shirt. His pants had been pressed and his tailcoat hung. Even his shoes had been shined which he hadn’t realized would be something his cabin class had included. He donned first his pants, noting the tighter fit in his hips and rear, and then the shirt with its fresh starched yoke bib front which now seemed a size too big.

He slicked back his hair as he looked in the mirror noting it was fuller and thicker than he recalled. He’d see the ship’s barber tomorrow. He was concerned he’d have to make an excuse about not shaving but he didn’t seem to have any stubble on his face.

“No matter,” he thought and quickly wrapped the starched wingtip collar around his neck then expertly tied the white tie around it.

Heading out the door, he was still tucking everything in as he walked. Oddly, his tailcoat seemed too big as well, the sleeves coming all the way up to the knuckles of his fist.

“They must have given me back the wrong suit when they pressed everything,” he thought to himself as he walked briskly toward the LaMark’s suite.

He felt a little odd as he walked, more aware of his chest and crotch then he wanted to be. Blessedly he was able to knock on the LaMark cabin door at just 7 o’clock.

Reginald opened the door after his third knock, a butler standing behind him looking perturbed.

“Devon old boy! So glad you could join us tonight. We’ll be eating here in the suite tonight despite the Captain’s invitation to join his table. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he responded, an odd, higher pitch to his voice.

He cleared his throat as he moved into the suite.

Reginald escorted him in toward his mother and Devon noticed he seemed taller and more handsome than the prior evening. Lady LaMark sat in the same chair he had left her in this morning but was now resplendent in a dark green velvet and lace evening gown.

“Mother, Devon Highbridge has joined us.”

“Lady LaMark, how do you do this evening?” Devon squeaked as he took her gloved hand, kissing the back of it.

He cleared his throat again. He must have woken up with some sort of odd frog in his gullet he thought.

“Charmed I’m sure,” Lady LaMark said, smiling sweetly at him. “You look positively glowing Mr. Highbridge. Did you take some sun today?” she asked, an odd tone to her question like she was teasing him.

The smile didn’t leave her face.

“Not at all ma’am…ehem…excuse me…ehem…I seem to have…ehem…an odd frog in my throat,” he sputtered.

Devon coughed and tried to clear his throat again.

“I was so tired from the journey; I dare say I slept most of the day.”

His voice sounded like he was a schoolboy, he thought to himself.

“Well yes, traveling does do odd things to the body, doesn’t it?” Reginald said politely. “Would you care for a cocktail?”

Devon looked again at Lady LaMark, a broad smile still creasing her face.

“Perhaps…ehem…perhaps some tea…for my voice before dinner?” he croaked out again.

There was something very wrong with the pitch of his voice. Try as he might, he couldn’t get back to his usual tenor.

“An excellent idea,” chimed in Lady LaMark. “I bet I know just the one you’d like too, don’t I Mr. Highbridge?” she asked sweetly winking at him.

“Ah…yes, please ma’am,” was all he replied.

He wasn’t sure if Reginald knew about this morning’s conversation.

Despite the butler’s protest, Lady LaMark insisted on making his tea again while Reginald regaled the man of his day. Before he had even finished, Lady LaMark handed Devon a warm cup of tea.

“I’ve made it a bit stronger, Mr. Highbridge, to sort you out more quickly I should think,” she said studying him up and down.

“Thank you…ehem…Lady LaMark…ehem,”

“This really is rather silly,” he thought to himself and took a big sip of the soothing tea. He almost sighed audibly; the tea seemed to hit the spot.

Reginald droned on as they took their seats. Lady LaMark was served her aperitif, a
glass of sherry, and Reginald nursed a dry martini as he continued to animatedly tell them about his day. Devon held the cup and saucer in his lap and sipped his tea, the wonderful tea, as they listened to the man blather about this and that.

It wasn’t long before he started feeling drowsy and his abdomen started to hurt again, stabs of pain this time. He downed the last of the tea in hopes it would squelch his stomach’s trouble but soon found that the uneasiness in his bowels grew worse. Reginald was still prattling on about some sort of nonsense, but Devon was having a hard time focusing. Beads of cool sweat appeared across his brow as he started to feel the ache in his hips and shoulders again. Soon his ribs felt like they were being squeezed. Worse, he was so tired he wasn’t sure he could stay awake.

“I wonder…,” Devon started in his new pseudo-falsetto, “if I might…be…able to…excuse me…from the…”

The darkness zoomed into his vision as he slumped over in his chair, the cup and saucer hanging precariously from his lap.

***

The sun’s early morning rays broke through the wide windows of the first-class cabin’s bedroom. There were no portholes on this deck like in Devon’s room.

Everything felt strange, he could tell before he even opened his eyes. His body didn’t feel right. He shifted in the bed, stretching his legs and felt an odd bit of clothing around his legs. Devon groggily pried an eye open and saw Reginald sitting next to the bed, a paisley silk robe covering his sleepwear, cup of tea in his hand. The clock on the desk behind him read seven thirty.

“Good morning, my love,” he said quietly, an earnest smile on his face. “You look lovely this morning. Here, I’ve brought you some tea.”

Devon rubbed his eyes.

His hands felt wrong, smaller, thinner somehow and he looked down at them. A woman’s hand hung from the end of a thin arm in front of him which strangely seemed to be attached to him. He sat up quickly, new long hair cascading around his face. Alarmed at what he saw, he swept the hair aside and inspected his other hand, finding, to his astonishment, much the same problem with that hand.

As his eyes drew up the length of his arms, he saw the white frilly lace of a cotton night gown that covered his ample chest. While his eyes took in the information, his brain was unable to comprehend any of it. He soon felt the weight of the bosoms on his chest and he instinctively grabbed them.

Devon had been with many women and as familiar as was the feeling of his hand caressing a breast, the feeling of his own bosom being caressed however, was a perverse shock to him.

“What…what is going on,” a foreign voice let out from his throat. “What’s happened to me? Why am I in this bed, dressed this way!” his voice grew ever more urgent with each word.

“It’s alright my love, calm down, and I’ll explain,” responded Reginald lightly, clearly not alarmed at all by the circumstances.

“You fell asleep a bit early and rather than carry you to your cabin, we let you sleep here. Mother said it wouldn’t be a problem since you were so tired. Traveling really can do odd things to the body,” he said soothingly. “Do you feel better after your rest?”

Devon did feel good, very rested in fact, but completely out of sorts. He continued to squeeze his own breasts before the thought occurred to him that he may have had more changes…

More dramatic changes.

He was sitting up at an odd angle but even with his odd posture he could tell that his crotch was not right. His hand went down, and he desperately felt for the appendage he worried was no longer there. Not wanting to believe what he felt through his nightgown, he threw back the covers and frantically pulled the hem of the nightgown up exposing his white cotton drawers underneath.

“Darling, please,” Reginald objected seeing her pulling away her undergarments in a rather unladylike fashion.

He turned, averting his eyes and Devon pulled down his drawers.

The soft curve of his feminine pubis greeted his touch as he finally sent his hand searching into his underpants.

“Oh my god…oh my god…” he breathed out in shock. “What have you done to me Reggy?” he blurted out; his voice all wrong.

“What do you mean darling?” he said chancing a glance but still seeing Devon with her hand down her drawers. “Please darling, pull your nightgown back down, it isn’t decent of you.”

Devon swung his legs out of the bed and slid down to the floor. His tiny feet landed with a thud and he stood to his full height letting the night gown fall to his ankles. His hair again fell around his face and everything in the room seemed ever so slightly larger.

“What did you do to me, Reggy? I’m…I’m a woman?!?” he half shrieked, again pulling the long hair out of his face.

Reginald stood from the small desk chair and put down his tea. He came to her and hugged her gently, further confusing Devon.

“Of course you are darling, and I love you so much. Please, here’s your tea, let’s have our breakfast and chat about today. We have so much to talk about, with the wedding plans and all.”

“Wedding? What are you talking about Reginald?” she asked pushing him away. “Good god man pay attention to what I’m saying! I’m now a woman!” he exclaimed in a delightfully feminine register.

“Yes, mother said you might be off this morning. Please, let’s put some clothes on you and have breakfast with mother. She can explain.”

“By god she’ll explain right now,” said Devon storming to the door and throwing it open.

As he suspected, Lady LaMark was sitting in her usual spot sipping her morning tea. She smiled a big smile and Devon thought he saw a shade of triumph on her face.

“Good morning Miss Highbridge, don’t you look radiant this morning,” Lady LaMark said, sipping her tea again.

“What in god’s name have you done to me!” fumed Devon in his new soprano.

He walked straight to her, standing over her, but not quite looming as he had hoped given his new petite stature.

“Please Miss Highbridge, that is no way for a lady to act. And could you please put some clothes on, I will not speak to you while you saunter around scantily clad.”

“Apologies mother. Here you are darling, here is your dressing gown,” Reginald said coming behind Devon and holding a long cream-colored satin dressing gown out for her to slip her arms through.

Devon allowed the robe to be put around him and once bundled, sash tied, Devon returned his attention to the Lady LaMark.

“Well? Out with it! What have you done to me?”

“Please, have a seat. We’ll have some tea and I’ll explain. Would that be satisfactory to you?”

She gestured for the young lady to sit in the chair opposite her.

While Devon sat, Lady LaMark set down her cup and saucer on the table next to the tea service and began preparing a fresh cup for Devon. She spooned some tea leaves from a small tin on the table into a silver strainer then poured the hot water through it into the cup slowly. When she was done, she removed the strainer.

“Sugar?”

“No thank you,” replied Devon.

“Good girl,” she remarked and slid the cup across the table.

Devon picked up the cup and saucer and sat back, trying desperately to be calm. He brought the cup to his mouth and sipped the tea. It was a different blend then the day before but was equally as tasty. He quickly took another sip before returning the cup to the saucer in his lap.

“There now. Isn’t that better? How do you feel now?” she asked Devon.

Reginald sat down in the third chair and looked at the young woman expectantly.

It was as if her request for calmness had been granted. She felt the tension in her evaporate and a nice wave of tranquility wash over her.

“I feel…I feel…better,” Devon responded, her mood brightening. “The tea is helping, actually. I feel so much more relaxed.”

She looked at Reginald smiling back at her and blinked her eyes. He looked so handsome this morning in his silk robe. She felt her heart flutter just a bit and was immediately taken by him. She blushed slightly and nervously took another sip of the wonderful tea.

What were these feelings?

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Lady LaMark replied, a wicked grin curling on her face. “Ladies really shouldn’t be quite so animated in their conversations. It’s unseemly, dear, remember that.”

“You’ve changed me into a woman haven’t you Lady LaMark,” Devon stated, the plot becoming clear to her now. “I saw your necklace. It’s a coven symbol. You’ve somehow turned me into a woman so that I can marry your wonderful son Reginald, is that right?”

“Yes dear, you are rather clever. I have indeed done just that. You see, Reginald was a bit of dandy if I may say so, and he was perversely in love with men. I tried so many times to cure him of this affliction whilst we were in London but I’m afraid without the use of my spells, I wasn’t able to turn him. Our spells are forbidden in London you see, so I knew I needed to take him to America so that I might make a proper gentleman out of him. Once he was married and produced an heir he could return to London and chalk up his prior behavior to the wants of youth.

I didn’t plan for you to join my little plot Miss Highbridge, but it was just as easy to make you his bride as it was any other woman. Besides, I believe your skills of manipulation will be quite useful in the new world. Have you yet explained to our Reginald that you were confidence man?”

Reginald looked at the two women, confused.

“Oh Reginald, darling, you are a bit tardy sometimes, aren’t you? Devon Highbridge was only interested in you for your money. His plan was to get close to you and swindle you somehow. Really, you must pick your acquaintances more carefully. Still, your bride-to-be has many good skills which will come in handy. I suspect New York won’t know what hit them,” she finished taking another sip of her own tea.

“But, I’m in love with Reginald as well. How did you do that?” she asked eagerly, shocked at the words she uttered, but excited to hear how her new matron had managed to bring her love.

“Why with the cup of tea you hold in your lap my darling. Just a simple love potion. Very strong, and permanent I should add. I gave it to Reginald as well. I dare say he won’t be having any more dalliances with the gentleman of London or New York from this point on. Frankly, I should have given it to him years ago. Regaredless,” she added with a wave of her hand. “He’ll only have eyes for you, my dear, as he should.”

Reginald reach his hand over to Devon who eagerly took it into her own. The two locked eyes and the spell was complete.

“I love you so much my darling,” he said.

“Oh, and I love you too Reginald. I don’t understand how this has happened, but I am so happy right now. I love you with all of my heart, my darling Reginald! And if this is the way I have to be to be with you, then I can’t wait to be Mrs. Reginald LaMark!”

The two sat quietly staring at each other before Lady LaMark interjected.

“Do finish your tea, both of you, just to be sure,” she said wistfully, sipping her own brew.

The two finished their drinks as instructed and put their cups and saucers back on the table.

There was much to discuss.

****

For the remainder of the trip the two were inseparable. Devon was renamed Daphne at the Lady LaMark’s suggestion. They were so smitten with each other that they insisted the captain marry them at sea. At first Lady LaMark protested, but Daphne cleverly explained how best to work through the problem of the identity of a woman who appeared out of nowhere. They agreed it was better for them to land in New York as Mr. and Mrs. LaMark. Devon Highbridge simply ceased to exist; his belongings unceremoniously tossed into the sea save for a few trinkets.

As for Daphne, she grew quite close to Lady LaMark and took great pleasure in learning all things feminine from her mother in-law. Fortunately, she was now rather close in size to Lady LaMark and so there was ample clothing choices for her to try and wear around the ship. At first, the corsets where burdensome but Reginald loved what they did for her figure and she loved making him happy. She would need a lady’s maid to do anything with her own long hair however, simply not having ever acquired the skill.

By the end of the voyage, Daphne couldn’t imagine not wearing the lovely dresses and gowns Lady LaMark put her in and she was especially pleased with the large hat and day dress she wore to leave the ship and enter New York.

The couple and their dear mother disembarked into the city and started their new lives in New York society. Daphne LaMark, neé Highbridge, was a hit with the society woman and drew their confidences quickly and deeply, this time not for her own gain but rather for that of her new family. In short time, with Daphne’s unique skills, Reginald had raised money and founded an import and export business that proved rather lucrative for generations to come. At Daphne’s insistence they had four children, two boys and two girls and the family would split their time between New York and London after the war, living happily ever after.

***

Blah, blah, blah…etc…etc… Shutting down my laptop for the night, I have to say I’m very pleased with the telling of my great grandparent’s story. I will, of course, have to leave out the bits about potions and magic and what not for the published version. Afterall, my readers prefer a straightforward love story to one of subterfuge and manipulation. My great grandparent’s love story - meeting on the ship, making it big in America - is sufficient to sell plenty of books without outing Lady LaMark for the witch she was. Besides, it would draw attention to things better left in the shadows.

In real life, and despite what I put in the book, Daphne did actually bear four children soon after their marriage, triplet girls, the sign of the trinity, and later one boy to carry the name forward. Over the first several years they spent in Manhattan, she became a paragon of the New York high society, known particularly for her impeccable femininity and dress. It was as if she over corrected in her womanhood for once being a louse of a man.

Lady Catherine LaMark, my great, great grandmother, was a brilliant sorceress and she and Daphne became thick as the thieves. Reginald was sadly killed in the Second Battle of the Somme in March of 1918. Family lore says that he was the last one killed in the fighting but who knows with the shit-show that was trench warfare. Daphne, still under the spell, was devastated and would never remarry. With no male old enough to run the family’s budding business, Lady LaMark, with Daphne’s help, used her powers to control the most important industrialists and Wall Street financiers of the day for the family’s benefit and saw to it they were well ensconced in high society. It wasn’t long before their wealth multiplied and they oversaw a vast, if obscure, import empire, the money from which supports my lavish lifestyle today.

Most remarkably, some years ago I was fortunate enough to have acquired Catherine’s considerable skills in what I guess you would call witchcraft. I had ventured up to the attic of the family’s Manhattan brownstone looking for some seasonal decoration or other when I came across her spell book. On a lark, I read aloud the first page and was startled to not only feel a tingling sensation all over my body, but to hear my great great grandmother’s whispers urge me to study the tome. With her guidance I quickly learned some small spells and potions, growing my powers steadily. Now I can do or get just about anything I want.

And tonight, I want the woman laying luxuriously on our bed. I’ve wrapped her in the most sumptuous satin and lace nightgown from La Perla which I will soon separate her from while I ravish her body and she mine. She’ll do anything I say.

You see, it was about the time I found my powers that I discovered my husband Douglas had only married me for my considerable wealth, a fact he barely tried to deny when I confronted him. Apparently, he wasn’t in it for love, and I had foolishly not insisted on a prenuptial agreement.

Anyway, rather than get into a fight, I seduced him that night, telling him I still loved him anyway; subterfuge to be sure, but I needed him to trust me. I did nothing to shake his confidence in me, biding my time until I had perfected the potion. It was just a matter of time to find the right moment to serve him a wonderful cup of tea. By now I was quite sure I no longer cared for men, and this duplicitous sack of shit needed a new world view. Poor Doug never knew what hit him; grandmother’s tea worked perfectly. By the next day, I had Donna, my perfect spouse - hot, saucy and devoted to me entirely. She attends to me obediently and I let her do things to me that Doug would never have been able to. Plus, she’s just my size so we didn’t even need to go shopping.

But of course, we do. I love dressing her.

My novel of turn of the century immigrant love will come out by the end of the year. Not long after, we should have our own bundle of joy. Next week Donna is scheduled for her first appointment, artificial insemination, and we couldn’t be more thrilled. She’ll make such a great mother, just like my great grandmother Devon did.

Please leave a comment! I always appreciate feedback. And please see my other work at https://www.deviantart.com/aliceduffield and on Patreon here: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24221022&fan_landing=true