Pure fluffy silliness. A little "Sex in the Village" for your Friday :) Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend!

Transformation

A knock at the door sent Elsie running excitedly down the corridor. Beryl Mason, nay Patmore, was due to arrive for tea, their first visit since she had married Mr. Mason three weeks before.

The women exchanged hugs and smiles before Elsie ushered her back to the kitchen for sandwiches and tea.

Elsie was pleased to see a glow in Beryl's complexion. She recognized it as the same transformation she herself had experienced after her first few days of marriage, the result of vigorous exercise and a state of bliss.

"So…"

"So?" Beryl tried to hide her grin with her tea cup but it was no use.

"You can't hide from me, madam! So how is married life?"

The newly retired little cook stifled a giggle, "It is very…surprising."

"I take it by your smile you mean surprising in a good way?"

"You tell me. You've been married much longer than I have, Elsie Carson."

"Ah, but Mr. Carson and Mr. Mason are two very different men, Beryl."

"I hope for your sake they aren't all that different, Elsie." Elsie choked on her mouthful of tea as both women broke into a fit of giggles.

Temporarily gaining her composure, Elsie leaned towards Beryl, "I do agree. It is surprising. You do mean..…you have…?" Elsie lifted her eyebrows twice.

Beryl's cheek burned red as she nodded her head, "Often."

"Oh!" Elsie gasped and smiled, "How… nice…well…goodness."

The women both laughed nervously. Their friendship had certainly grown over the years, but they had never shared details of such an intimate nature before.

The small woman looked at her blushing friend, "I had truly only expected friendship and maybe a kiss or a cuddle on a cold night, but it's…it's quite nice."

Elsie reached over and patted her hand, "I am so happy for you. And, yes. It is quite nice."

"Were you shocked at all?"

Elsie was caught off-guard by the question. "Shocked by what?"

"By…all of it. By him. By how," Beryl looked into her cup, "…how good it feels."

Elsie bit her lip, quite embarrassed, but at the same time, delighted to know she wasn't alone in finding pleasure in the marriage bed.

"I've embarrassed you, Elsie. I'm sorry."

Elsie looked over at her, "I was shocked. I had always heard that it was something we women endured for the sake of our marriage. Whoever came up with that whopper was obviously married to the wrong man."

Beryl chuckled; relieved she hadn't offended her friend.

Elsie leaned against the table as she continued with a whisper, "And they certainly aren't the same men on the street as they are in the bedroom, are they? They do change, don't they?"

Beryl giggled, "That's no word of a lie. Isn't it strange to think of all the men we know…"

"Oh, Beryl!" Elsie laughed.

"Just think, if Mr. Molesley ever gets up the nerve to ask Mrs. Baxter…"

Elsie threw her hand over her mouth, her laughter uncontrollable at the thought. "Stop!"

Beryl grinned, "But I imagine the same has been said about Mr. Carson and Mr. Mason."

Elsie managed to catch her breath, "I suppose you are right."

"He doesn't…" Beryl broke into a whisper, "…make you call him "Mr. Carson" when you…" she used their shared code of raising her eyebrows twice.

"Beryl! No!" Elsie blushed and bit her bottom lip, the memory of calling him "Mr. Carson" only that morning during the throes of passion still fresh in her mind.

"Somehow I feel he must wear a bow tie and call you "milady" in the course of the proceedings."

Elsie shook her head in guilty amusement, laughter issuing deep from within her. "Beryl, you must stop!"

Her friend laughed, the image of a dignified Charles Carson in nothing but a bow tie burning on her brain.

Elsie wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, her sides aching from laughter as she lifted the teapot from the table, crossing to the kettle for more hot water, "I will have you know there has been quite a transformation from stoic butler to loving husband, Beryl Mason."

"I'm glad to hear it. I just hope that polishing all that silver over the years paid off." She received a puzzled look from Elsie. Picking up her cloth napkin and the silver sugar bowl in front of her, Beryl placed the tip of her index finger at the joint where the arm met the bowl and proceeded to rub little circles against the small nub. "Or would you prefer me to refer to it as "the ringing of the gong."

Elsie turned beet red, another memory from that morning coming back to her. "You are a wicked woman, Beryl Patmore."

Beryl vibrated with giggles, "But you knew exactly what I meant, Elsie Carson."

Elsie gave her a playful scowl as she returned to the table, refilling both their cups. "Nevermind that. "

Beryl took a sip of her tea before asking, "Do you think it is normal? I mean at our age? Or is it just the honeymoon period, do you think? Does it taper off after the first few months?"

Elsie bit her bottom lip and studied the table cloth for a moment. She knew Charles would find this conversation shocking and distasteful, but there was genuine concern on Beryl's face. She set her tea cup in its saucer before folding her hands in her lap, "It does taper off some I would say."

"I see." Beryl's disappointment was evident. "To once a week?"

Elsie looked at her in surprise, "What did you mean by "often"?"

Beryl gave her friend a confused look, "What did you think I meant by "often"?"

"Well how "often" does it happen now?"

Beryl paused for a moment, "Most nights, but not on Tuesdays or Fridays."

"Why not Tuesdays or Fridays?"

"I do my baking on Wednesday and Saturday mornings."

"I see." Elsie smiled as she lifted her tea cup to her lips. "I take it back. It doesn't taper off."

"You mean you and Mr. Carson…" Beryl once again lifted her eyebrows, "…more often than five times a week?

Elsie shook her head, "I don't think we need to get into…"

She was quickly interrupted, "Oh, we are getting into it. How "often" is "often", Elsie Carson?"

Elsie gave a quick look at the backdoor watching for her husband who was due to return from his trip to Ripon at any moment, "Well, every night now and at least every other morning." Elsie amused herself by adding, "But I don't bake."

Beryl's mouth hung open, "Every night and every other…and that is with it tapering off? Good Lord! What was it before?"

Elsie drew her face up into squint; her eyes squeezed shut as she admitted, "At least three times a day the first few months…"

"THREE TIMES A DAY?" Beryl exploded just as Charles entered through the back door, the basket on his arm filled with the various groceries, as well as a box of tea cakes from Elsie's favorite bakery in Ripon.

"Hello! Sorry I am late! The bus had a puncture two miles outside of the village. I had to walk the rest of the way, but I have your tea cakes," he continued to talk rapidly, busily putting away the groceries, not even taking the time to look at the two women who were both covered in a deep flush, Beryl's hand over her mouth and Elsie staring at her folded hands resting on the table in front of her. "I hope I haven't missed anything. I am anxious to hear how you are enjoying your new life on the farm, Mrs. Pat- Mason. Well, that will take some getting used to. I am afraid they only had three of the vanilla cakes you like, Elsie, the rest are cinnamon and apple. Here we are!" He turned and presented a lined tray filled with tea cakes, "Would miladies care for a sweet from a freshly polished tray?"