Hello again, all! So good to see so many new faces here. I'd heard of the growing popularity of this place, but I never dreamed... so many blondes, so little time. But shame on me, where are my manners? I've the most adorable little blonde thing right here. Forgive me, sweetie. Honestly, pettes, I've found a real gem. She brings out the brunette in me!
So what were you saying as I came in, dearest? Something about a story for the girls? Oh, yes. Hmm, that would make an interesting story, I agree. But should we? A discussion such as this is perhaps a little too private for such a public place. And think of the rumors... well, it could be quite scandalous! Perhaps we should re-think it. But if you have your heart set on it... yes? Well, then, who am I to deny you ANYTHING you have your precious heart set on?
Alright then, pettes, since she's saving the best part of the story for herself, I'll just give you a brief resumé. As you will recall, I had implored my sweet Elizabeth to come for a visit, it having been far too long since we had seen each other, or had any real contact at all. Life is certainly cruel sometimes, keeping loved ones apart. But visit she did, and what fun we had! The highlight was an elegant party at which I introduced her to most of my friends, who were certainly delighted to meet such an exquisite blonde. She was utterly charming; you can imagine how proud I was! She hardly left my arm, except to mingle on occasion. I was the envy of everyone.
I was, admittedly, not entirely immune to her charms, but I was the perfect gentlepette, ever mindful of my words and actions, not wanting to appear too forward, and yet always one small step away from falling utterly. A word, a gesture, and I would have been hers.
But it was not yet to be. And as she left me, tearful but smiling, we made arrangements for me to visit her later in the summer. Which I did. But I believe that brings us to HER part of the tale...
Another drink, love? Oh, how clumsy of me, I'm so sorry, I may have stained your lovely gown! Barpette, some club soda, please, quickly.
Here now, let me get that...
Yes, the steamer ticket the sweet Cunard White Star brunette purser Elaine had sent me said July 15th, 1951, yes, yes, yes, I know. But that horrid brunette Miss Heatherington, Miss Utterly Perfect & Discipliny Know-It-All Mistressy Drop-Dead Kiss-My-Hand Brunette, she, in charge of the Aphrodite Cocktail Bar, would not let me quit on two weeks' notice, she filed a complaint (imagine!) with the Aristasian Ministry of Maidservants and Barkeeps, wining that good help is so hard to find these days, etcetra etcetra that no honest pette can run a business if barkeeps are to be permitted (permitted, mind you!) to flit off thither and yon on the least provocation. Miss Heatherington is such a conniving cold crafty controlling brunette that she had my departure date set back three weeks until she could find another hapless wide-eyed and innocent blonde (just my size) to fit into that lewdicrous milkmaidenly outfit who's only virtue is keeping one's, um, feminine whereabouts indeterminate to fend off the ever-importunate always inquisitive darting hands of brunettes. Aristasia is going down a hill in a hand shake, I figure, so it is just as well I am emigrating to Culveria where blondes are never forced to gather birds in the hand beneath rolling glass houses! Or so I hear from my blonde cousins Trudy and Rosie. In New Quirinelle. Who are staying with Miranda the blonde.
But, La, Pettes, I needn't have fretted about lemon juice and sextants, flare guns and water wings, astrolabes and duffel bags or even frilly sailorpette knickers: the Queen Mary has everything a salty nautical pette like I could desire. There are three watches a day maidened by efficient and uniformed brunettes, stationed behind every stanchion and hornpipe, and the Queen Mary is ever so big, like a city, that she does not seem to move at all through the ocean. Quite the contrary, she seems to stand still (except for the deep thrum of her engines), while the whole of God's green ocean moves past her at a goodly pace. All we blondes on board feel quite protected, I can assure you! We have not seen a single iceberg so far except in our cocktails and they are quite tame. The icecubes, I mean, you sillies, not the cocktails! I stopped wearing my Mae West after the first day and I have not even had to wear my bell-bottomed trousers and navy blue peacoat & sailor hat even once on this trip: us blondes are expected to wear formal evening dresses and pearls and no one ever asks us to haul on a rope, just imagine! No Royal Navy discipline at all. Isn't that swell? No grog rations, to be sure, but champagne cocktails are always *tray tray sheik.*
But don't take a silly blonde's like I's word for it. See! Here she is! The Queen Mary, I mean.
is a postcard sweet Miranda sent to me just before I sailed, showing that
the Queen Mary is really not a square-rigged, three-masted wooden
sailing ship, after all. So I don't really have to learn nautical knots
or how to work the chain pump. Look! There I am, on the fo'c'sle right
next to the mainchains! The girl in the purple frock. See? I am waving.
No, no, not there, go left a bit, see? See my red hair? And, look,
the Queen is not surrounded by icebergs, not any, but only by small,
nursely vessels, so there is nothing to worry about ... except mal de
mer. But, look, pettes, I, um, think I forgot something in my stateroom.
I feel a bit, er, queasy, please excuse me, I'll be back in a mome....
Don't go away, now. Be right back! I am sure I can use another champagne
cocktail ... Whose picking up the tab tonight?
But darling, Culveria is in Aristasia.
Could I possibly suggest a light tea-party, to be held here in the tea rooms Thursday next, with the aim in mind to discuss the necessary arrangements for your launch into this society? Invite anyone you would like to help you, and I'm sure the more experienced members of this company would be only too pleased to assist.
And if the idea of committing the gown to an unknown dressmaker fills you with trepidation, I would be very happy to perform all the fitting and foundation work myself.
Valetta, my sweet, if you would only consent to place yourself in my hands, I shall make your coming out a memorable affair.
Your very able assistant-to-be
Well, when I last saw you all, I had just found my dear friend Miss Rebecca -- after a terribly long separation. But we have since had a joyous reunion! (Mmm. I wonder if someone might get me a little something to drink? I could use something tall and cool. If only some willing brunette would chance by...) Well, we had two reunions, in fact! I should let Rebecca tell you about our first, since she was such a gracious hostess to me, sharing absolutely everything she had to offer. But I get to tell you about our second!
Rebecca should be along shortly, by the way. We planned to meet here again! You'll know her right away. She's quite tall (although I don't think she's originally from Amazonia, one of her mommies, or perhaps a grandmommy MUST have been), her eyes are green, and her hair! Her hair cascades in perfect blonde ringlets from her head to her voluptuous hips, and she moves like a goddess! Ooohh. I can't wait to see her!
Love and hugs to all,
Barbi darling, Shareena and I both have been carefully peering at those two gorgeous dolls 'neath the potted palm, really girls! you needn't seek a place away from the light for your trysting. Believe me sweet things, us girls have all been there, done that, and enjoyed it too. Come over to the bar darlings.
Shareena is nudging (?) me in all the right places to relate more of our night of fun. Very well sweeties...I've rather well oiled my aural auxiliaries. Shareena my sweet, please desist from doing that-later darling!
There we were all consuming the most scrumptiously cooked Aristasian cuisine a girl could eat from this side of the pit. What was it that made me feel such blonde towards the petitely dressed Shareena and family and their maid. Could it be the heavenly apple pie, graced with pastry hearts and flowers...possibly. With dinner finished we all went out into the garden for an after dinner sojourn into the realms of fantasy and goddess worship. That took up the better part of an hour or two, darling pettes. Need I tell you what fun that was honey darlings? I'm sure your girly imaginations can think that out, don't you darlings? I'm truly coming around to loving every little bitty minute here in Aristasia. Will this never end...I pray to the goddesses NOT EVER.
With the setting of the sun, we strolled back indoors in various states of bliss and undress... not too risqué is this dearest girls? Blame it on the heat then! As Shareena and I agreed (Shareena my sweet, don't blush.) we went to her delightful room. I can now share with you my cocktail lounge lovelies, that Shareenas bedroom ceiling has the most exquisitely divine fresco of our dearest goddesses. The intimacy of all the goddesses has been so well portrayed. A picture is worth a thousand words darlings.
When we'd turned the lights off-stars above literally pettes! Luminescence all over the ceiling! I have the distinct feeling the goddesses watched over us, Shareena & I, as we danced and made music to the goddesses as only two girlfriends by themselves can. I do swear on my blonde mommy's honour, the goddesses were well pleased with our mutual offerings of and to each other.
And that my sweets is about all we can share with you in this narrative, we hope it hasn't bored you to tears. This is my dearest memory of my introducing into the beautifully feminine life here in Aristasia. I may never want to go home indeed.
And now Shareena my darling, and I are going to do the rounds
to meet you other gorgeous darlings here in the lounge, Ramona doll, can
we sit with you and Barbi for some girly chat, darling. Please say yes.
Girly hugs and kisses
SHAREENA & MIRIAMA
Well, I'm just dropping by for a moment, my considerate darlings, to ask if you would you allow me to briefly unburden myself (never to do so again, I assure you!) to my sweetest and dearest friends in all of the cyberworld. I have discovered that coming to the Cocktail Bar, while totally exhilarating and, in many ways, rehabilitating (more anon!), cannot, no matter how much we may wish it so, magically release us from the fear and trepidation that recovering Pit- maidens such as myself unconsciously express at the most inopportune moments.
Had I the self-confidence that you, my romantic Ramona, display in overflowing abundance, I never would have left you so abruptly after the movie, forgoing, for the moment, one hopes (there I go again!), the thrilling possibilities of your brunette company as you walked me home, somewhat tipsy, but in the fullest control of my faculties, escaping the chill of the enchanted evening air with the warmth of your sorority, and relishing your serene beauty and amorous attention under the sanguine illumination of the lover's moon that always fills the Aristasian sky (doesn't it?). But, without even realizing it, my protective barriers went up at the crucial moment, my anxiety overwhelmed my confidence, and I made an all-too-familiar escape into the night, disguising my discomfort with a shopping spree (not an entirely useless enterprise, however!).
My goodness...and I do mean goodness... there it is in a nutshell!
Thank you for your patience, my captivating pettes, and I must say, I really
do feel better! Perhaps some kind of Aristasian-in-Telluria therapy is
at work? Or is there more magic here than I imagined? A question still
remains, however; tell me, if you can, in all sincerity: is it possible,
as Presidentette Eleanor Roosevelt said to Franklin, that there is nothing
to fear in Elektraspace...but fear itself?
Inquisitively yours, I remain,
But of course, Sweetipops. Elektraspace must be the safest place in the world - if it is in the world.
Have you noticed that attractive new couple, over by the potted palm? What an exciting pair they make! It does rather make me start to reminisce about days gone by. I ran with a rather fast crowd once, you know, oh, yes. I was quite the young-brunette-about-town. And cut no mean figure, if I do say so myself, making non-regulation alterations to my school uniform, when I thought the sisters weren't looking! Ah, the sheer, liquid pleasure of first youth!
And speaking of living fast and brave, it occurs to me that, in
all this time that I've been visiting the Cocktail Bar, I have never once
been in to see the gallery of photos for which it is so famous. I wonder
if now might be the time? Does anyone know which way the entrance is?
Faithfully, I remain
Let me share with you other heavenly bodies, our evening "at home". One moment, my precious pettes. "Shareena darling, do be a sweetie and assist me up onto this stool would you?-that's right darling, just grab anywhere and lift.", "Ah yes - that's better" Okay pettes are you comfy?
With the intimate introductions done all round when we'd arrived at Shareena's home, we all went into the very femininely designed lounge - I wonder, my lovely pettes? in the blonde or brunette pre-or post eclipse style, I am not that well versed in the Aristasia artistic culture yet. I was invited to join the family on the lavishly upholstered in chintz lounger, which was the sole piece of sitting furniture in sight. Shareena, noting my hesitation, quickly explained" Miriama darling, do come sit with us - it is a family tradition for us to everything closely together in the one place, and especially with friends". Perhaps it was not for lack of space, but my darlings, we did get awfully close in proper femininely blonded style, all five of us gorgeous blondes.
A petite blonde girl doesn't ask questions about some things, and so, when I was asked, would I desire to watch a piratessed copy of "Gentle(Wo)men prefer blondes"? No hesitation from this blonde, pettes. "Yes!Yes!Yes please darlings!"
All five of us became so enamoured with the screen images of our starlette goddess we there and then decided, precious pettes, lets play act some scenes, shall we? The unlucky blonde darling who draws the short straw has to play the man (wash my mouth out with soap, dears!) - to be fair, my lovely darlings, we changed it so that each of us had to play the not-female (isn't that better than M*N, girls) role. And did we have fun? Bet your panties we did.
We dined shortly after this fun and frolicking, Shareena-Mommy-and blonde sisters all wanted to sit next to darling Blonde Miriama (what's a girl to do in this situation?), so much screaming and hysterics, darlings. We finally sorted out a good blonde arrangement, in turn a blonde can sit on another blonde's lap and we'll spoon feed each other just like Mommy used to. A lot of girlie giggles and skirt pulling went on during that meal I tell you, my darling girls.
Enough for now, my dearest pettes, this blonde needs something
sweet to drink "Shareena darling, are you game for a czarina? - its my
MIRIAMA AND SHAREENA
Oh you won't find anything post-Eclipse about these parts, you see after the Eclipse everything went dark. Not the exciting darkness of "where were you when the lights went out" (where were you, by the way?), but the black nothingness that is the absence of all true light. Brr! It's creepy isn't it? But just wait till you hear what's been happening to
My ravishing Ramona, how could I do anything but forgive you, no matter how long you took to reply? Your graciousness, beauty, brunette charms, and bartending skill completely overwhelm any possible slight that I might have felt, had I felt one! Which I didn't! Now, if you thought you owed me an apology for not responding promptly to my last query, imagine what I owe you! Please accept my humblest apologies for taking what must have felt like forever to acknowledge your invitation to join you for an Elektraspace showing of "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes." with a most enthusiastic "YES!" And there, my brilliant beauties, begins my tale...
No sooner had you extended your invitation to me, my radiant Ramona, than, mysteriously, everything in the Cocktail Bar froze in its place. Absolutely immobile...except for myself. Why, if something like this had happened anywhere else, I would have expected that serious Mr. Serling to enter the room and say, "Submitted for your approval...a young woman named Barbi at her favorite haunt..." and start an episode of the Twilight Zone! But, as it was, I just knew that everything would work out in the end. Elektraspace just makes people feel that way, as I am sure you will all agree.
Well, my delightful darlings, the stilled appearance of everyone
seemed to be endless, but I realized that even if it were to last
forever, I couldn't think of any place that I would rather spend Eternity
than here with all of you, my precious pettes! And every time I looked
at your normally scintillating self, my captivating Ramona, you were still
posed, lovely and amiable, as if your invitation had just escaped your
lips. Finally, after what seemed to be ages, an obviously brunette voice
said something esoteric about Elektraspace-time continuum anomalies, or
servers, or some such thing, and everyone was reanimated, but it seemed
that the film had already been shown. A curious blend of reality and recollection
suddenly washed over my mind and dreamy memories, possibly real, possibly
not, came into my head. And I just don't know if I am remembering what
actually happened! All right, then! Fact or fiction, here
My rapturous Ramona, it seemed that I had no sooner accepted your invitation to the film than the lights began to dim and the movie began. I scooted a little closer to you, probably a little closer than you expected, because my leg briefly, breathtakingly, brushed against yours, and I rested my hand on the table near you, hoping that I wasn't being too obvious, subtlety being an art that I am trying very hard to learn from the anonymous sagettes.
As soon as the marvelous Miss Monroe appeared in that gorgeous lavender dress, you fulfilled my fondest hope and took my hand in yours and held it so tenderly and familiarly that I thought that you must have been reminded of me in my lavender dress! Forgive me, my desirable darling, but my vanity is showing again, isn't it? At first I could scarcely contain my blonde excitement, but, influenced by your brunette serenity, self-assurance and composure, I was able to keep my eyes on the screen, and a whispered "La!" was all that slipped from my lips. I felt as if my body were casting a faint rosy glow, but, if it was, no one, not even you, my sensitive sweetheart, seemed to notice.
After a wonderful hour and a half or so passed, with everyone laughing in all the right places, the lights came up, and, as I turned to thank you for the invitation, my eyes meeting yours, your other hand briefly, affectionately, caressing the top of my hand, the Misses Trent, Bland, and Di Naxos began their analysis. It would have been quite rude to ignore them, wouldn't it, so we both turned, our hands separating, and listened. And, so...here we are right now! Now, if anything that I have related is less than the absolute truth, no matter how trivial, please let me know, and don't hold anything back, no matter how much my feelings might be hurt.
As for the film itself, well, what could a simple blonde such as myself add that these eloquent and stunning scholarettes haven't already said? Leaving archetypes and stereotypes and other arcane analysis to the specialists, I could see, even with my concentration somewhat compromised by the nearness of your romantic presence, that the movie truly belongs to the memorable Marilyn. She irresistibly captures and captivates the viewer's attention. Miss Russell, apparently realizing the comparative inadequacy of her manifold charms, turns what could have been a combative, flamboyant role into a very creditable, subdued performance. The only question that occurred to me was how could these two gorgeous girls spend so much time looking for m-e-n when they had each other? Well, that's Hollywood for you.
And, now, my charismatic, refined, ravishing and exquisite Ramona, I have so totally enjoyed your companionship for the last few hours--or weeks, whichever it is!--and the Martinis you so lovingly procured for me that, before I go, if you will let me, I simply must give you a kiss! Let me hold your soft cheeks in my hands like this...as I tenderly press my lips to yours...and...oh, my darling!...your lips are so soft, my perfect pette! How silly of me! As if they could be anything else! Please forgive my awkwardness, my brunette beauty, but you possess a considerable feminine power of your own, what I think you called a "vitally feminine" aura. Perhaps, you are wearing that basque that you bought the other day? Oh, my!...there I go again...do you suppose blondes ever stop blushing? Excuse me, my dearest, for even asking! Some things, after all, should remain secrets, shouldn't they?
At any rate, even if that isn't the reason, I have decided to
take the plunge into the world of lingerie myself! A small plunge, perhaps...some
stockings and a garter belt...a slip...I just don't know. Or maybe I won't.
Perhaps an anonymous sagette would provide some guidance for a recovering
Pit-maiden? I really hate to throw away my pantyhose, no matter how caged
one feels in them. Excuse me for now, though, won't you? I would love to
spend more time with you, but errands must be run, and, you can't shop
in the Cocktail Bar, can you? In a few days, perhaps? Maybe another Elektraspace
movie? Until then...
With eager anticipation, I remain your Sweeti,
Girls have secrets, so I'm not about to tell all our girlie talk,
gossip is not me, pettes! As soon as I came in , she had eyes for me only
and Goddesses bless us, we have naturally found a liking for each other.
(If this is life here, may the Goddesses never let me leave!). Shareena
and I have planned a shopping trip for stockings, skirts and all the trappings
to fit in with all you other gorgeously blonde and brunette sweeties. And
too, darling Shareena has girl promised to introduce me to all you lovely
darlings. Don't think we're ignoring you sweet things, but we have so much
to share, in many and new ways, we could be divinely busy for awhile. Skirt
swapping must be another local custom here too. Shareena and I have agreed
to swap skirts, she loves this short pleated skirt I'm wearing, and darlings,
I've been closely looking at her sweet short skirt too. I nearly fell off
my barstool with that intimate look at that deliciously exposed inner thigh
betwixt stocking and Panty, the blonde darling intended me to notice this!
Her quick embrace stopped my saying hello to the floor just about then
pettes! And you can best believe darlings, we held hands from then on,
just in case! Well sweet darlings We're just off and away for a short while,
around to Shareena's to look at the goddess fresco on her bedroom ceiling,
and for some more intimately feminine girl to girl blonde/brunette bonding.
Take care-have fun, hugs and kisses darlings
MIRIAMA AND SHAREENA
Some one has described Aristasia as "one long conversation". Well, Aphrodite is rather like that. If you want to catch up on the conversation so far, the Archive is the place to do it.
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