Lady Ann's Folly: Chapter Three - Part One

To Be A Harlot

1

The woman who, once upon a time had been Burt the stablehand, but had latterly lived the life of Lady Ann Neville, paused when she got outside and looked down at herself.

Her bountiful cleavage hung there, filling her view, as did the cheapness of her clothes. Lady Ann would never been seen dead in such an outfit but it suited this new form perfectly.

“Good God,” she whispered. “I really did it. I’m really Mavis now.” It gave her another tickle of gentle warmth to think that but also a twist of apprehension. It was only now really that she understood the gulf between her fantasy and this total reality. Her fantasy had possessed a dreamlike quality – just a series of rosy scenes of passionate debauchery. This wasn’t like that. There was no sense of inebriation; of going with the flow. She was standing outside on a spring afternoon dressed in the peasant garb of a country barmaid. As long as she was in this body she really was a common barmaid. She really was Mavis Gibbs.

“It’s only for an hour or so,” she reminded herself. “Then I’ll be safely back in my own body.”

Her own body. It seemed such an odd concept considering the stepping stones she’d been crossing of late. Who was she, really? Did she know anymore?

Yes. Of course she did. She was Lady Ann Neville.

She steeled herself and went on walking.

Even that was strange. The last time she had trod this path she had been a lady of the manor. In this form she owned nothing. The sense of that kept scratching away at her, almost making her turn back to flee into her proper shape, but she didn’t relent. She had the pendant. The current Ann was tied up securely. She still had full control.

And she knew that if she went back to that body now then she’d never be able to build up the gumption to try this again.

“I’m Mavis for now,” she said to herself. “I’m Mavis.” And each time she said it she felt a little more comfortable in that alien skin.

All she had to do was find Burt and shag— make love with him, then she could get back to her proper life and go to Nockton Vale next day without any regrets.

“You! Girl!”

Mavis turned in the direction of the voice and her heart fell. Her father, the Earl, was striding imperiously down the path toward her, his cane in hand, dressed in his favourite walking coat and hat. Mavis didn’t know how to react. To him she was no longer one of the gentry. She was nothing but a peasant. And he had proven his ruthless power over the lower orders again and again. Fearfully, she stopped, hesitated, still unsure, then curtseyed. “Yes... my lord?”

“What the devil do you think you’re doing, strolling about my property?”

“Er, I’m sorry sir. I was... Your daughter, Lady Ann, wished to speak to me.”

This stopped him in his tracks. “Hm. She did, did she?”

“Yes sir.” The Earl towered over her and his presence was utterly intimidating. Mavis knew from three perspectives now how deadly his ire could be and was desperate to find the best path through is questioning to escape unscathed at the other side.

“What about?”

Mavis blanched. “Uh, just... about women’s things my lord.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re the girl who was helping that buffoon of a stablehand on the day he was flogged. I’ve seen you in the village.”

Mavis had not been Mavis when those events transpired but she hedged her bets anyway and said, “Yes sir.”

The Earl regarded her coldly. “You seem altogether more respectful today than you were then.”

She almost gasped in relief. “Thank you sir.”

“See that you remain so. If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s an impudent peasant. Even one as comely as yourself.”

He gave her a wink and strode away, whistling to himself and Mavis gaped after him, feeling a confused bustle of different emotions.

That her father showed attraction to one as lowborn as Mavis was a surprise. That he would voice it was more shocking still. The idea of being with him as a woman to a man was repellent of course but the attention had been flattering, considering the peaks and troughs her self-image was going through. And no better was that exemplified than in the way she had been talked down to. Attraction or not, the difference in her status compared to his had been total.

“That’s how he saw me,” she murmured. “As a commoner.” Her nose curled in distaste. “I am a commoner for now.”

Again, she considered rushing back to the holiday cottage to effect the change but there was sufficient hesitation to stop her.

She’d met the Earl and survived. The worst had already happened. All that lay before her now was to be bedded without consequence by the most virile man in the village, the boxing champion of the district.