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Angel’s Story
—-‐—————-
Do you believe in angels?
I hope you do because we work hard to get our wings. We are sent to earth to grant three people a wish, once we have completed our mission we are rewarded with a beautiful set of angel wings.
It is a cold and wet October Friday evening on earth and I am sat on a hard wooden bench on a wet and windy railway platform.
I had already granted two wishes and had one more wish to grant and my mission would be complete.
Maggie’s Story
——‐—————–
It is a cold and wet October Friday evening and I have just had the worst day at work. My boss is a complete bastard; no matter how hard I work it is never good enough.
I have just missed my train home and I am cold and wet, the rain hasn’t stopped all day.
At least there is a space on that bench but do I really want to sit next to that nutty woman talking to herself.
I sat and waited for the next train feeling sorry for myself.
I know I’m a bit of a party animal and can be a little promiscuous but surely there is something more to life than just work, sleep and casual sex. I need to settle down and live a quieter life. If fact why do I have to work, I need a husband to look after me.
If I had lived in the 1950’s I could have been a stay at home wife looking after my husband and home. I wish I could have been a housewife in the 1950’s I thought to myself.
I suddenly feel faint. The world around me starting to spin and suddenly nothing just darkness.
Angel’s story
———————
That’s it! I have granted my third wish and now I can go home and collect my beautiful angel wings.
Maggie’s story — Who am I?
————————————————-
I am still alive because I can hear voices, people talking and laughing. The sounds of daily life going on around me.
My eyes open to a beautiful warm summers day, gone is the cold and wet October evening.
Everything looks different though, a steam train stands waiting at the platform.
All the men are dressed in old fashioned suits and the women are wearing 1950’s vintage retro dresses and high heels.
Am I on a film set?
“Hello madam, I think you had a funny turn and fainted, are you OK?” asked the old man in the uniform. His lapel badge told me that he was the station master.
“Yes, I am fine thank you.”
The station master helped me to my feet.
What am I wearing? When I left home this morning for work I was dressed in a white silk top and a black trousers suit but now I have on a very nice red floral dress with a full circle skirt and what appears to be a netting petticoat underneath the skirt.
I don’t know what I am wearing under this dress but it is very tight and uncomfortable, I can hardly breathe.
I gather my thoughts and try to make sense of what has just happened.
I have a quick rummage through the handbag I am clutching close to my chest and find a Post Office Savings Book.
Mrs Margaret Ward
27 Royal Avenue
Chesterton
Who is Margaret Ward?
My name is Maggie Hudson and where the hell is Royal Avenue. I have never heard of Royal Avenue let alone know where it is.
The only way to find out is to get a taxi there.
After quite a long drive in a very old style black cab we pull up outside a very nice semi detached house.
A further look through my handbag reveals a set of house keys. It all feels very strange entering a house I know nothing about.
The decor is very old fashioned and reminds me of my grandma’s house that I visited as a little girl.
There are no modern appliances in the house, no telephone or TV but I do however find a radio plugged into the mains and turn it on, it is tuned into a station called the BBC World Service and according to the news Queen Elizabeth, our new Queen is to tour the UK using the Royal Train.
I don’t know how or why I am here but the date is 27th June 1953.
I must live here because that is me in the black and white wedding photograph stood on the sideboard. In the photo I am stood next to a very handsome man and if that is my husband then I have done OK for myself.
I rummage through the documents in the sideboard drawer to find out as much information about Margaret Ward as I can.
Margaret Ward is 23 years old and is married to Frank.
Her maiden name was Margaret Hudson and before my episode at the railway station that is who I was.
I was Maggie Hudson, a single fun loving girl who worked in a city bank during the day and partied at night and if I am honest with my self I could be a little bit naughty if you know what I mean.
Frank also works in the city, something to do with insurance which sounds very boring.
We are buying our own house and it appears we live a comfortable life.
I have been married to Frank for just over a year and it appears that I don’t work but I am a housewife and according to the letter I have in my hand I am due to start a new eryaman rus escort job on Monday morning at a local bank as a cashier.
Why do I need a job as a bank cashier? I am a fully qualified accountant who runs several high profile business accounts in the city. This really is a step back in time.
I don’t really find much more information so I am going to have to play clever. I will tell Frank about the episode at the railway station and how I fainted, banged my head and now have slight concussion and memory loss.
A wander through the house reveals that we live in a very nice but sparsely furnished house.
My wardrobe is full of beautiful vintage retro dress, skirts and blouses.
My underwear drawer has some very old fashioned underwear consisting of very large panties, full body girdles, open bottom girdles, very large bras, suspender belts and stockings.
I do hope that someone invents tights and thongs soon.
Looking at the underwear in the drawer I now realise why I feel so uncomfortable.
I slip off my dress and confirm the reason for my discomfort.
I look at my reflection in the wardrobe mirror and see me, Maggie Hudson staring back but what on earth am I wearing?
My bra is huge and made from thick and stiff material with very thick shoulder straps. The bottom of the bra finishes halfway down my stomach leaving just an inch of flesh showing before the material of a very tight and restrictive girdle begins.
It’s no wonder I can’t breathe.
The suspender straps of the girdle hold up a pair of tan seamed stockings.
Thank goodness I still have long auburn hair. I love my hair and I am or should I say was a regular visitor to the salon to have it conditioned and trimmed.
My hair reaches down to my bra strap and has a lovely bounce to it and is my pride and joy and people always comment on how luscious and healthy it looks.
I wonder what hair salons are like in 1953.
My makeup looks different but it is definitely me, Maggie Hudson or perhaps I should now call myself Margaret Ward.
My New Life Begins.
———————————-
It is now 2pm and I don’t even know what time Frank comes home from work so I suppose if I am Margaret Ward then I should make an evening meal for my husband’s return.
The clock in the hallway strikes 6 and Frank walks through the door. He is even more handsome than in the wedding photo, he is very athletic looking. I am a lucky girl.
Frank kisses me on the cheek and sits in his armchair to read his newspaper.
I serve the meal that I prepared and we sit at the dining table to eat.
I tell Frank about my episode at the railway station earlier in the day hoping it would explain the gaps in my knowledge about our life together.
“Oh dear Margaret I am sure you will be fine,” replied Frank “Do you think you will be well enough to go to your hair appointment tomorrow?”
What hair appointment?” I thought to myself.
“I’m sorry Frank, I have forgotten. It must be the bang on my head.” I queried.
“Yes, you have a hair appointment tomorrow at Audrey’s on the high street at 10am, You made the appointment last week to have your hair
cut ready for your new job on Monday.”
“Oh yes, sorry I forgot. I’m sure I will be fine.” I replied.
A hair appointment at Audrey’s salon, that doesn’t sound very promising. It sounds very old fashioned. The type of place my grandmother would go to.
After finishing our evening meal Frank returned to his armchair and continued reading his newspaper whilst listening to the radio.
My first impressions of Frank were good. He was a nice man but a little boring and not very exciting, he had potential and I would work on that to make him the man I wanted him to be. Inject a little excitement into his life.
I cleared and washed all the plates and dishes and decided to go for a shower before bed.
I did intend to have a shower but discovered we didn’t have one, I ran a bath.
I undressed out of my very restrictive undergarments and I could finally breath.
Looking down between my legs I saw a very thick dark curly bush. Hmm I thought, I don’t care what the fashion is in 1953,that is going.
I found Frank’s very scary looking safety razor and shaving stick. Lathered up my bush and dispensed with it..
Now that looks better. Im sure Frank will appreciate a nice clean pussy.
I bathed and dressed in a knee length flannelette night dress. That was all I could find.
I am going to have to do some shopping because I am sure I can find something sexier than that and waited in bed for Frank.
Frank came to bed a short time later, undressed and put on a pair of striped flannelette pyjamas, not very sexy I thought to myself.
He turned off the bedside lamp expecting to go to sleep.
I had different ideas. I wanted to try my new man out for size.
I slid between the sheets and took hold of his flaccid penis rubbing him and teasing him with my tongue until my ankara etimesgut escort bayan teasing had the desired effect and Frank sprung into action. I took Frank’s very impressive 8 inches into my mouth.
“Margaret, what on earth are you doing?”
“Trust me.” I replied.
I worked Frank’s cock with my mouth and teased balls with my tongue. It was obvious that this was a first for Frank because he didn’t last long. He ejaculated filling my mouth with his hot sticky cum.
I emerged from beneath the sheets, looked him in the eyes, wiped my lips with the back of my hand and swallowed.
“My goodness Margaret what has come over you?” asked a shocked Frank.
Poor Frank has a lot to learn.
I gave him time to recover before removing my not very sexy flannelette night dress and revealed my freshly shaved pussy.
“Oh Margaret.” was Frank’s only response.
I mounted him giving him the best fuck he had ever experienced. Frank has a lot to learn but I an going to make it fun.
Saturday morning and my salon visit.
–‐——————————————
Frank awoke with a smile on his face.
I was still naked. He leaned across to me and started to stroke my shaved mound.
“Why have you shaved your public hair?” he asked.
“It’s all the rage in America and I wanted to please you.”
“I like it very much Margaret.” he said as he continued to stroke me.
Frank was becoming aroused and I was happily reminded that he was not lacking in the bedroom department with his very satisfying 8 inches.
I opened my legs offering myself to him and with my legs in the air Frank certainly showed me that he had potential but he had a lot to learn and had to be a little more adventurous. The missionary position is OK but not very exciting.
I bathed and dressed ready for my salon visit.
Normally back in 2022 it would take me 20 minutes to dress in bra, panties, jeans and t shirt and makeup but today it took me much longer.
I dressed in a pair of very large panties and an all in one girdle that basically stopped me moving, how on earth am I supposed to bend over in this.
A pair of tan coloured seamed stockings, a net and lace petticoat and a cream coloured dress with a full skirt to accommodate the petticoat.
I looked in the mirror and found that I liked the new me, very feminine with my long hair cascading over my shoulders.
Audrey’s Hair Salon was a small and uninspiring shop that sat between a greengrocers and a butchers shop. It was difficult to see through the large display window because of the rather dirty net curtains.
I reached for the front door handle but before I got to it, the door opened and a young woman my age stepped out from the salon.
She had obviously just had her hair done. She had the shortest, tightest curly perm that I had ever seen. The whole of her forehead was exposed with her hairline starting high on her forehead with a tight neat curl. The rest of her head was just a mass of tiny, very tight curls. Her ears were fully exposed and the hair on the lower part of her nape was shaved clean.
She smiled at me as if she knew what was just about to happen to me.
The inside of the salon was small and cramped and the atmosphere was humid and smelled strongly of hair spray and a horrid smell of bad eggs that I would later discover was perm solution.
The salon seemed quite busy. The two styling stations were occupied, one with an elderly lady whose short grey hair was tightly bound in small perm rods, the other chair was occupied by a young woman aged about 19 years old, she too had her short blonde hair tightly bound in small perm rods.
It looked like both women were getting exactly the same hair style, a very short curly perm.
The only difference between the two women was the amount of hair on the salon floor around their styling chair. A small amount of short grey hair lay beneath the elderly woman whereas the floor beneath the young woman was covered in a mountain of blonde wavy hair. The poor girl must have had hair down to her bum before today’s visit to the salon.
Along the adjacent wall sat 3 hood hair dryers, two of them occupied by women sporting a head full of perm rods covered with a hair net.
It would appear that a short curly perm was the only hairstyle Audrey and her assistant did. Was I going to regret my visit to Audrey’s salon?
The elderly woman with a head full of perm rods was given a seat under the vacant hood dryer leaving Audrey’s styling chair free.
“Good morning, I’m Audrey, you must be my 10 o’clock?”
“Good morning, we spoke last week when I booked the appointment, I’m Mrs Ward.”
“Oh yes, I remember, you are the lady starting her new job at the bank.” Audrey replied.
“Yes that’s me.”
“Well then let’s make you look respectable and get rid of that little girl hair. If you are going to work at the bank you will be a regular visitor here. Mr Brown the manager likes his staff to look smart and gölbaşı rus escort bayan I believe he likes all of his staff including the women to have very short hair that is well off the collar. So let’s get started.”
Audrey took my overcoat and held out a shabby faded salon apron. I slipped the apron over my dress and sat in the chair.
“Right let’s get started.” declared Audrey.
Audrey brushed out my hair and combed my graduated fringe down in front of my face.
The cold steel of Audrey’s scissors touched the skin on my forehead above my right eye and with one snip a strip my lovely auburn hair fell from my head and onto my lap, another cut from the scissors sliced through the hair over my left eye.
I opened my eyes and looked at my reflection. My hair was still long at the sides but I had a very short, blunt fringe that sat 1 inch above my eyebrows. I looked like a little girl.
Audrey continued to comb and cut my hair until all that was left of my precious locks was a very short and rough cut head of hair no longer than 2 inches in length. Audrey stepped back to assess he work.
“Hmm I think I will take that fringe higher so we get a nice high and tight curl to keep that hair off your face.”
With another snip of her scissors Audrey cut my fringe to a point almost at the top of my forehead. My fringe was practically non existent.
My hair was rolled in very tiny perm rods starting at my forehead and working back towards my crown and down the back. The hair on the sides of my head was given the same treatment until the whole of my head was covered in tiny perm rods.
I looked at my reflection in the salon mirror; I didn’t recognise the woman looking back at me.
Maggie Hudson would never have entertained anyone doing this to her hair but Margaret Ward was only too happy and obliging to allow someone to butcher her hair in the way Audrey had and it appeared to be acceptable practice for young women of this era to go through this procedure when they reached a certain age.
It was a rite of passage that when a young woman reached a certain age then she would visit a hair salon and have all her girlish hair cut short or permed in order to conform to society’s expected image of how a young lady should look. Prim and proper.
Audrey soaked the perm rods and my hair is a perm solution and walked me over to a vacant hood dryer. At first the sensation of the warm air around my head was pleasant but this soon changed. My scalp became hot and a little uncomfortable, this together with the smell of rotten eggs that seemed to be emanating from my head only added to my discomfort.
After a good 30 minutes Audrey rescued me from the dryer and led me back to the stylist chair.
One by one Audrey removed the perm rods to reveal very tight little barrel curls covering my head. My head was just a mass of tight curls. The curl on top of my forehead was exceptionally tight pulling any fringe that I had away from my forehead leaving my face totally exposed.
Audrey lead me to an old wash basin at the rear of the salon and with a towel draped around my shoulders rinsed my hair using an old metal jug filled with cold water from a tap. My hair was doused in another solution that I presumed was a neutraliser. After a further rinse I was lead back to the stylist chair and my hair dried with a hand dryer. My head was just a mass of tight curls that capped my head.
Although a tight curly perm was not a style Maggie Hudson from 2022 would have chosen, I really did like it and I thought I looked quite cute and in keeping with the times. A tight curly perm suited Margaret Ward from 1953.
That is until the next stage of the process.
“Now, if you are working for Mr Brown at the bank, he likes his staff to wear their hair short and off their collar, so we need to take you shorter.” exclaimed Audrey.
Audrey unhooked a pair or hair clippers from a hook on the wall and pushing my head forward said “I am just taking the back and sides down a little shorter.”
The warm metal of the clipper blades vibrated at the base of my nape and I felt them being pushed up towards my crown. Instead of seeing long sections of my auburn hair fall on my lap I witnessed small tight curls pooling there.
After clipping the hair on my nape she clipped the hair around and above my ears.
Once finished Audrey released the downward pressure on my head allowing me to look at my reflection.
Oh my goodness, the hair around and above my ears had been clipped to a short stubble and I could see white skin peeping through where once the cute little curls had been. My new hair line started an good half inch above the top of my ears.
Audrey held up a hand mirror to the back of my head. The high hair line continued around to my nape leaving nothing below it but short stubble.
“There we go Mrs Ward, is that short enough or should I take it higher?” asked Audrey.
“No that’s absolutely perfect, thank you,” I replied “Just how I wanted it.”
If I thought that the other women’s perms where short and tighter then mine was off the scale.
With my new hair style complete I paid Audrey.
“Now that we have given you a sensible hair style and suitable length for working in Mr Brown’s bank, we will have to keep it like that. I will book you in for next month.” said Audrey.
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