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Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment

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Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Trixie woke to her alarm the following day from a deep sleep that had been troubled by frightening nightmares. The moment she opened her eyes, the horror of the previous evening flashed before her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the blanket over her head as she tried to shut out the painful memory. However, the memory stayed, and the alarm continued its insistent buzz. Yielding to the inevitable, she sat up and stopped the sound.
The dim light of a DC March morning filtered in through the curtains. A new warmth in the light promised that Spring was on the way. The season of renewal and new life was about to dawn. But Trixie felt no comfort in any of that.

As she had fallen asleep last night, Trixie had resolved never to tell anyone anything of what had happened. She was too deeply and totally ashamed of herself. It was all her fault. She was such a loser, she thought. Why had she hoped to hide her shameful background? Didn't the disgraceful life that she'd come from earn such treatment?. Trixie reproached herself for the ease with which she had descended to being a filthy whore for those men. Perhaps she was just her mother's slutty daughter. She was just cheap goods!
She was positive that her new 'friends' would desert her when they realized what trash she was.

Trixie carefully examined her appearance in the vanity mirror. Most of her marks would be hidden by her clothes. Only a small bruise over her left cheekbone where Watson had struck very hard would not be covered. She applied more than the usual foundation and makeup to cover it up and dressed in casual and baggy clothes to go join the team.

Emerging from her room, she immediately caught the inviting smells of breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, sliced ham toast, and coffee. A wave of pleasure swept over the girl as the aroma brought her slightly back to normal life and away from her self-blaming doldrums. The revulsion for food of last night had faded. As she hurried upstairs, her fasting since lunch left her ravishingly hungry.
Susan and Dolly immediately greeted her and asked how her session had gone. Trixie attempted a happy smile and said, "I'm getting my certificate!" Both whooped and gave her a big hug. Trixie managed not to flinch with pain.
"Never a doubt in my mind, girl," cried Dolly.
"I'm proud of you," said Susan, in softer tones.
Trixie sat between the two at the table and they all dug into the tasty breakfast. Her friends followed up with conspiratorial questions and knowing grins about her absence the rest of the evening. She'd prepared her story well. She had wanted to go out and celebrate on her own and apologized for not including them. It was all waved off until Dolly noticed the bruise. In her typical blunt manner, she asked, "Someone been beating on you, girl? Tell me who it is, and I'll knock their balls off!"
Again, Trixie was ready with her excuse. A little too much to drink, she said. While slipping off the barstool when leaving, she'd hit her face on the rail and then wisely took a taxi home. She added the last part in case anyone had seen her arrive.

Later, at the Institute, Trixie's main effort was to normally walk and sit despite the aching soreness between her legs and the bruising in her heavily spanked butt. Her mind was in a daze, and she had great trouble paying attention to the teachers. Visions of hands hitting her, of penises forced down her throat, and of cocks ripping her cunt and anus kept flashing before her. It took all her willpower not to just bolt from the room screaming.
Fortunately, the teachers were all in the end-of-term mode and mostly just sharing their own war stories from overseas to help prepare their charges.

Partway through her third class, Tom Watson entered in his usual way, heartily greeting all and giving Trixie a broad smile. Trixie thought that her heart stopped. Total consuming, irrational, paralyzing fear seized her mind and body. Her hands gripped the desk so tightly that her knuckles went white. She prayed that no one saw her bright red blush. It took a minute and several deep breaths before she could see and hear the teacher again. Even then, several shivers gripped her body as she saw her abuser smiling benevolently at her.

When the class ended, she bolted unceremoniously from the classroom and to the nearest restroom, where she sat in a stall and wept uncontrollably for several minutes.
 
Dr. Reedy untied Trixie's arms while Watson gathered up her clothes. "Get dressed, slut," he said, tossing them on her prone, still panting body. "We need to be out of here before the watchmen come at ten-thirty."
Trixie painfully pushed herself up and began dressing. One of her bra shoulder straps had been torn, but she could fasten the back. As the girl did, she groaned from the pain in her tits from the contact. That bra was ruined, she thought - there went thirty-five dollars of her borrowed money down the drain. She slipped on her panties that appeared undamaged, just wet with her saliva from when they had used them to gag her. Her delicate new $60 blouse was missing two buttons but could be closed. Her skirt was undamaged except for some semen stains.

Meanwhile, the men had dressed, and each took an arm to lead her out of the office.
Trixie limped along between them. The spaces between her legs were painfully sore and still dripping various fluids. Oblivious to her discomforts, the two hurried her down the hall and out the front entrance to avoid being seen.
They half-carried the girl to the end of the block where there was a taxi stand with a solitary Yellow Cab. Simon opened the rear door, and Tom tossed the semi-limp girl carelessly into the back seat. Simon told the driver the address, and Tom threw two $20 bills onto Trixie's lap, saying, in a loud voice so the driver would hear, "Forty Bucks. That's what the whore charges for an evening of fun!" Dr. Reedy laughed out loud. He looked at the driver, "She's worth it, man. This slut is dirty; she will do ANYTHING!" Watson and Dr. Reedy stood back and laughed as the cab pulled away.

The cab driver, a dark-skinned, older man of indeterminant Middle-Eastern descent, stole furtive, lustful glances in the rearview mirror of the beautiful girl, with her clothes in disarray and two bills on her lap. He had never fucked a redhead, he thought. Such a sexy young girl, nothing like his fat old wife. Just forty dollars for a night of pleasure with the houri? By Allah, that would be worth it! He tried to start a conversation and even attempted a suggestive remark or two and even a proposition. But Trixie was only semi-conscious and didn't respond to his sexual overtures. Ayreh Feek, he thought. The bitch thinks she's too good for a dark-skinned man!

When they got to the dorm after a short ride, the girl clumsily opened the door and struggled to get out. The driver, still pissed, made no move to help her but just demanded his fare, $12.50. Trixie, groggy, handed him the two twenties. The driver pocked both bills. He figured the big tip was better than spending money on an unconscious whore, no matter how sexy.

Trixie staggered up the walk to the door. As she did, fear swept over her. She couldn't let her teammates know she had prostituted herself to save her job! She was consumed by unbearable shame. As she entered the building, she was relieved to see the lights dimmed and no one about except the security guard in his office. He gave only the quickest glance and a wave of his hand as his eyes were glued on some huge titted woman on a reality TV show.
Trixie snuck up to her room as quietly as possible. On the way, she passed the refreshment bar, still stocked with snacks and drinks. She'd had no dinner, but the thought of food with all that semen in her stomach revolted her. She just grabbed a bottle of water to rinse the still disgusting taste from her mouth.
Back in her room, she took a hot shower that hurt terribly on her bruised and abraded skin but seemed to wash a little bit of the shame away. Afterward, she went to bed and cried very hard. But, exhausted, she soon fell asleep.
Watson and Reedy have covered their tracks, Trixie has her job and the cab driver got a large tip. All seems well but we know full well that it isn't. I feel for Trix following the reading of this particularly well written but solemn chapter. We know that our girl is Singapore bound, but I would dearly love for these two manipulating bastards to somehow get their comeuppance. Wonderful stuff PrPr.
 
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Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Trixie woke to her alarm the following day from a deep sleep that had been troubled by frightening nightmares. The moment she opened her eyes, the horror of the previous evening flashed before her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the blanket over her head as she tried to shut out the painful memory. However, the memory stayed, and the alarm continued its insistent buzz. Yielding to the inevitable, she sat up and stopped the sound.
The dim light of a DC March morning filtered in through the curtains. A new warmth in the light promised that Spring was on the way. The season of renewal and new life was about to dawn. But Trixie felt no comfort in any of that.

As she had fallen asleep last night, Trixie had resolved never to tell anyone anything of what had happened. She was too deeply and totally ashamed of herself. It was all her fault. She was such a loser, she thought. Why had she hoped to hide her shameful background? Didn't the disgraceful life that she'd come from earn such treatment?. Trixie reproached herself for the ease with which she had descended to being a filthy whore for those men. Perhaps she was just her mother's slutty daughter. She was just cheap goods!
She was positive that her new 'friends' would desert her when they realized what trash she was.

Trixie carefully examined her appearance in the vanity mirror. Most of her marks would be hidden by her clothes. Only a small bruise over her left cheekbone where Watson had struck very hard would not be covered. She applied more than the usual foundation and makeup to cover it up and dressed in casual and baggy clothes to go join the team.

Emerging from her room, she immediately caught the inviting smells of breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, sliced ham toast, and coffee. A wave of pleasure swept over the girl as the aroma brought her slightly back to normal life and away from her self-blaming doldrums. The revulsion for food of last night had faded. As she hurried upstairs, her fasting since lunch left her ravishingly hungry.
Susan and Dolly immediately greeted her and asked how her session had gone. Trixie attempted a happy smile and said, "I'm getting my certificate!" Both whooped and gave her a big hug. Trixie managed not to flinch with pain.
"Never a doubt in my mind, girl," cried Dolly.
"I'm proud of you," said Susan, in softer tones.
Trixie sat between the two at the table and they all dug into the tasty breakfast. Her friends followed up with conspiratorial questions and knowing grins about her absence the rest of the evening. She'd prepared her story well. She had wanted to go out and celebrate on her own and apologized for not including them. It was all waved off until Dolly noticed the bruise. In her typical blunt manner, she asked, "Someone been beating on you, girl? Tell me who it is, and I'll knock their balls off!"
Again, Trixie was ready with her excuse. A little too much to drink, she said. While slipping off the barstool when leaving, she'd hit her face on the rail and then wisely took a taxi home. She added the last part in case anyone had seen her arrive.

Later, at the Institute, Trixie's main effort was to normally walk and sit despite the aching soreness between her legs and the bruising in her heavily spanked butt. Her mind was in a daze, and she had great trouble paying attention to the teachers. Visions of hands hitting her, of penises forced down her throat, and of cocks ripping her cunt and anus kept flashing before her. It took all her willpower not to just bolt from the room screaming.
Fortunately, the teachers were all in the end-of-term mode and mostly just sharing their own war stories from overseas to help prepare their charges.

Partway through her third class, Tom Watson entered in his usual way, heartily greeting all and giving Trixie a broad smile. Trixie thought that her heart stopped. Total consuming, irrational, paralyzing fear seized her mind and body. Her hands gripped the desk so tightly that her knuckles went white. She prayed that no one saw her bright red blush. It took a minute and several deep breaths before she could see and hear the teacher again. Even then, several shivers gripped her body as she saw her abuser smiling benevolently at her.

When the class ended, she bolted unceremoniously from the classroom and to the nearest restroom, where she sat in a stall and wept uncontrollably for several minutes.
Trixie being forced to see herself as Trash once again is a very sad situation. She is some girl to come back from this like she has. As Barb says, 'onto Singapore' ...
 
Monday, March 25, 2019, Six PM James G. Blaine Dormitory

Classes were finished, final papers and tests had been returned, only the graduation ceremony the next day remained. All twelve members of the Four Square team had been informed they would be receiving certificates and would be sent to their overseas embassies later this week.
The end of the stress of the last weeks and the nearing split up and departure had cast a slightly somber mood over the team. There wasn't a need felt for partying, and they sat around the dormitory lounge, talking in a subdued manner. No one wanted to say goodbye, and yet all knew that was coming very fast.
The last six days had been a surreal experience for Trixie. Her body had recovered in just a few days from the worst of the injuries, though her vagina and anus were still sore. But her mind had been much slower to heal. Multiple times every night, she awoke in a cold sweat, dreaming the men were again attacking her, fucking and hurting and degrading. During the day, she would break into a sweat as her mind faded out from what was around her and wallowed back in the filth of Watson's office.
Her friends had naturally observed this and were very worried about her. However, no matter how often or how firmly Dolly and Susan pressed her, Trixie would not confide a thing. By this evening, they had given up and were just trying to be supportive and encouraging.

Tonight the three friends actually had some laughs together as they traded greetings and catchphrases in Swedish, Spanish, and Chinese. The interactions with her dear friends managed to cheer Trixie a bit. The knowledge that after she received her certificate, she would be going half the world away from Watson and Dr. Reedy also was something to which to look forward.

Tuesday, March 26, 2019, Two PM John Milton Hay Auditorium
Trixie looked around the Hay Auditorium, remembering her first day here, seven weeks earlier. This time the room was full. Friends and family had shown up to support their candidate's graduation. Of course, there was no one there for Trixie. She had received a card with a long and caring note this very morning from Dr. Sullivan, congratulating her and sending best wishes for her career. She had intended to come, but demands at work had made the trip impossible. Reading between the lines, Trixie thought she detected a note of anxiety in the writing. She prayed that Beatrice didn't have any real trouble at work.
Dolly and Susan had insisted that Trixie sit with their families. Dolly's parents were just as cosmopolitan as she expected from their daughter's description. Mr. Champlin, currently Chargé d'affaires at the Canadian Embassy in Ottawa, was handsome, friendly, and charming - a born diplomat; her mother was a sweet, very pretty woman who immediately gave Trixie a big hug and talked about the wonderful things Dolly had said about her.
Susan's family was quite a contrast to Dolly's. Taciturn Mid-Westerners, they said little but were very down-to-earth and likable. The Millers were rock-solid German Lutherans who had spent all their lives as High School teachers and were dedicated to family, church, and community. Trixie soon fell in love with their plain, honest ways and their sincere affection for their daughter's friend. However, they were somewhat distracted by the thought of their daughter about to go to far-off Stockholm.

All too soon, it was time to be seated. The normal range of graduation speeches, praising the candidates, reminding them of their duty, and challenging them to make a difference in the world droned on. These were not painfully long, and almost before Trixie was ready, it came to the awarding of certificates. The candidates were instructed by ushers when to line up by teams and their names, which placed Trixie at the end of her team. In just a few moments, Trixie was climbing the five steps to the stage. As she walked onto the platform, the Champlin's and the Millers, and her teammates cheered. However, the redhead from Branchwater didn't hear that. Instead, she just saw, looking across the stage, Tom Watson, handing out his teams’ certificates. The candidate ahead of her had his name called and marched up to Tom, who handed the certificate, shook his hand, and then gave him a big hug. Tom Watson was going to be the one to give her the certificate. He would award it!

Trixie's mind went into a panic as her name was called, and she almost stumbled, crossing over to her team supervisor. Watson smiled broadly, handed her the certificate, and took her hand in his beefy paw. Then he pulled her very close in a tight hug which she reluctantly returned even as his hand away from and invisible to the audience slipped down to grab her asscheek. With his mouth by her ear, he whispered so that only the girl could hear, "You're a great fuck for Trailer Trash. Make the most of it in Singapore."

Their embrace broke, and Trixie somehow managed to stagger off the stage and back to her seat.
 
In just a few moments, Trixie was climbing the five steps to the stage. As she walked onto the platform, the Champlin's and the Millers, and her teammates cheered.
"A splendid time is guaranteed for all"
fsi-language-courses-us-foreign-service-institute-german-free-audio-lessons-downloads.jpgFSI graduates
Then he pulled her very close in a tight hug which she reluctantly returned even as his hand away from and invisible to the audience slipped down to grab her asscheek.
And I do mean All!
299632468.jpg
 
Yes, I know that I posted an episode this morning. But I have now completed the last post and I have a busy day tomorrow. Therefore, here is the conclusion of Trixie, Part I

Parting

Wednesday, March 27, 2019, Ten AM FSI Atrium.

Dolly and Susan had left at the crack of dawn for their flights to Madrid and Stockholm. On the sidewalk in front of the dorm, by the taxi waiting to take them to Dulles Airport, Trixie had exchanged tearful hugs and kisses with her new, dear friends. Naturally, they all promised to write, be in touch, and not let the distance separate them. But they all knew that in the great expanse of the US State Department, they might never see each other again. As she watched the taxi pull away and the other two waving through the back window, Trixie swore to be, at the least, ever thankful for those girls who had helped her get through.

Later that morning, the remaining graduates met with the travel staff in the central atrium to receive their credentials, information packs, and travel documents.
Still a little shaken by Watson's demeaning gesture at graduation and missing her dear friends, Trixie stood at the back of the line at the “T” booth and tried to set her mind forward to Singapore.
A friendly, middle-aged woman with lovely white hair greeted her and looked up her name when she came to the desk. She then produced a large packet of items and went through each with Trixie.
“When you arrive at Changi Airport in Singapore Friday morning, go straight to the Embassy and report to Minister Robert Burnside. He is the administrative head of the Embassy and will have made your living arrangements. He is an old hand who knows Singapore like the back of his hand. He is highly respected and will be the one to whom you will report."
“Thank you,” Trixie replied. “I’ll look forward to meeting him.
“Your passport, please."
Trixie handed over her brand spanking new passport, freshly ordered and produced by her new employer. It sent a shiver down her spine to realize that she was now an employee (on probation, of course) of the United States Department of State.
The woman copied some data onto a sheet and then handed it back. The lady produced the girl's itinerary. She explained to Trixie that her flight to Singapore was a one-stop. Alaska Airlines flight 1097 leaving that same evening from Dulles International to LAX, Los Angeles. After a four-hour layover there, she would continue on Singapore Airlines SQ 37 (“You’ll like that,” said the lady. "They are a very nice airline - top service"). "You will arrive at Singapore Changi Airport at 7 AM Friday." Trixie was in awe at the prospect of such a trip.

“Now,” said the lady, if I can just have your credit card, I can confirm the reservations, pay for your tickets and print your boarding passes all the way through.”
"What?" asked Trixie uncertainly. "I understood the State Department paid for employee travel to foreign Embassies."
"Oh. But, of course, it does. But your supervisor, Mr. Watson, instructed us that you preferred to pay with your card and then apply for reimbursement. I assumed you were looking to earn miles or cashback."
“I...No...I...There's been a mistake." Damn that man! Why did he have to arrange one last humiliation! "I want the State Department to pay. Can you change that?"
"Oh," the lady looked worried. "That would require canceling and rebooking. It would mean you would get there two days later. Mr. Burnside is a stickler for punctuality. I don't think he'd like you arriving that late."
"Oh, no, I don't..." Her mind reeled. "OK. I'll pay." Trixie fished her Bank of Evergreen credit card out and handed it over.
"Very good," said the lady. She showed Trixie a tally sheet. "With taxes and fees and connecting ground fare, you will be all paid up with $1,995.50. I'll just put that on this, OK?"
Trixie nodded wordlessly. A few moments later, she walked away with all her papers and tickets and a credit card that felt very heavy.

Later that afternoon, Trixie was seated in the waiting area for gate D32 at Dulles International Airport (IAD) in Chantilly, Virginia. After an obscenely expensive cab fare, she had checked in with plenty of time to spare. She’d even treated herself to a Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks. (What was $4.45 plus tax on top of over $2,000 charged today, she thought.) As she sat and sipped her rich, sweet coffee, the girl from Branchwater, Alabama, was trying to leave behind thoughts of the horrible men who had raped her. Instead, she was determined to only think ahead to her new adventure. What would Mr. Burnside be like? When she was assigned to a lawyer as his legal secretary, what would he be like? She hoped he wouldn't be some grumpy old fossil. It seemed too much to hope that he was younger and friendly and maybe, even good-looking!
As pleasant thoughts of her dream job in Singapore flooded her mind, Trixie heard the PA announced the boarding for Alaska flight 1097 to LAX. Trixie stood up and headed for the line at the gate. Her heart was pounding as hard as she'd ever felt. Little Beatrix, Trixie, Thomson from Bubba Jim's Mobile Home Resort in Branchwater, Alabama, was on her way to work for the US State Department in exotic Singapore! What an incredible adventure seemed before her.

End of Part I
 
$2000 one way to Singapore? Bloody hell, what, did they buy the ticket at the last minute? She should have caught a train to New York and flown Premium Economy direct!

One more humiliation with the credit card, which surely must be close to maxing out by now.. And since the ticket was obviously already paid for, why not let her change back to charging the State Department again? She needs a good agent, Trixie, I know a good agent!

Surely she’s seen the last of those horrid men?

Hmmm, Singapore is only 10 hours away from here, I wonder if she’d like to meet a decent Australian man? I can root show her around Singapore?
 
$2000 one way to Singapore? Bloody hell, what, did they buy the ticket at the last minute? She should have caught a train to New York and flown Premium Economy direct!

One more humiliation with the credit card, which surely must be close to maxing out by now.. And since the ticket was obviously already paid for, why not let her change back to charging the State Department again? She needs a good agent, Trixie, I know a good agent!

Surely she’s seen the last of those horrid men?

Hmmm, Singapore is only 10 hours away from here, I wonder if she’d like to meet a decent Australian man? I can root show her around Singapore?
I'll pass along the "invitation." However, I expect her to be very busy in Singapore.
 
Yes, I know that I posted an episode this morning. But I have now completed the last post and I have a busy day tomorrow. Therefore, here is the conclusion of Trixie, Part I

Parting

Wednesday, March 27, 2019, Ten AM FSI Atrium.

Dolly and Susan had left at the crack of dawn for their flights to Madrid and Stockholm. On the sidewalk in front of the dorm, by the taxi waiting to take them to Dulles Airport, Trixie had exchanged tearful hugs and kisses with her new, dear friends. Naturally, they all promised to write, be in touch, and not let the distance separate them. But they all knew that in the great expanse of the US State Department, they might never see each other again. As she watched the taxi pull away and the other two waving through the back window, Trixie swore to be, at the least, ever thankful for those girls who had helped her get through.

Later that morning, the remaining graduates met with the travel staff in the central atrium to receive their credentials, information packs, and travel documents.
Still a little shaken by Watson's demeaning gesture at graduation and missing her dear friends, Trixie stood at the back of the line at the “T” booth and tried to set her mind forward to Singapore.
A friendly, middle-aged woman with lovely white hair greeted her and looked up her name when she came to the desk. She then produced a large packet of items and went through each with Trixie.
“When you arrive at Changi Airport in Singapore Friday morning, go straight to the Embassy and report to Minister Robert Burnside. He is the administrative head of the Embassy and will have made your living arrangements. He is an old hand who knows Singapore like the back of his hand. He is highly respected and will be the one to whom you will report."
“Thank you,” Trixie replied. “I’ll look forward to meeting him.
“Your passport, please."
Trixie handed over her brand spanking new passport, freshly ordered and produced by her new employer. It sent a shiver down her spine to realize that she was now an employee (on probation, of course) of the United States Department of State.
The woman copied some data onto a sheet and then handed it back. The lady produced the girl's itinerary. She explained to Trixie that her flight to Singapore was a one-stop. Alaska Airlines flight 1097 leaving that same evening from Dulles International to LAX, Los Angeles. After a four-hour layover there, she would continue on Singapore Airlines SQ 37 (“You’ll like that,” said the lady. "They are a very nice airline - top service"). "You will arrive at Singapore Changi Airport at 7 AM Friday." Trixie was in awe at the prospect of such a trip.

“Now,” said the lady, if I can just have your credit card, I can confirm the reservations, pay for your tickets and print your boarding passes all the way through.”
"What?" asked Trixie uncertainly. "I understood the State Department paid for employee travel to foreign Embassies."
"Oh. But, of course, it does. But your supervisor, Mr. Watson, instructed us that you preferred to pay with your card and then apply for reimbursement. I assumed you were looking to earn miles or cashback."
“I...No...I...There's been a mistake." Damn that man! Why did he have to arrange one last humiliation! "I want the State Department to pay. Can you change that?"
"Oh," the lady looked worried. "That would require canceling and rebooking. It would mean you would get there two days later. Mr. Burnside is a stickler for punctuality. I don't think he'd like you arriving that late."
"Oh, no, I don't..." Her mind reeled. "OK. I'll pay." Trixie fished her Bank of Evergreen credit card out and handed it over.
"Very good," said the lady. She showed Trixie a tally sheet. "With taxes and fees and connecting ground fare, you will be all paid up with $1,995.50. I'll just put that on this, OK?"
Trixie nodded wordlessly. A few moments later, she walked away with all her papers and tickets and a credit card that felt very heavy.

Later that afternoon, Trixie was seated in the waiting area for gate D32 at Dulles International Airport (IAD) in Chantilly, Virginia. After an obscenely expensive cab fare, she had checked in with plenty of time to spare. She’d even treated herself to a Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks. (What was $4.45 plus tax on top of over $2,000 charged today, she thought.) As she sat and sipped her rich, sweet coffee, the girl from Branchwater, Alabama, was trying to leave behind thoughts of the horrible men who had raped her. Instead, she was determined to only think ahead to her new adventure. What would Mr. Burnside be like? When she was assigned to a lawyer as his legal secretary, what would he be like? She hoped he wouldn't be some grumpy old fossil. It seemed too much to hope that he was younger and friendly and maybe, even good-looking!
As pleasant thoughts of her dream job in Singapore flooded her mind, Trixie heard the PA announced the boarding for Alaska flight 1097 to LAX. Trixie stood up and headed for the line at the gate. Her heart was pounding as hard as she'd ever felt. Little Beatrix, Trixie, Thomson from Bubba Jim's Mobile Home Resort in Branchwater, Alabama, was on her way to work for the US State Department in exotic Singapore! What an incredible adventure seemed before her.

End of Part I
"... some grumpy old fossil ..." - Oh if only he had been, at least that might have implied a small degree of competance! Great work PrPr, can't wait for more. Off to re read the previous Singapore tale now as a refresher!)
 
So, Trixie - poor but sweet, vulnerable but brave, loving but abused, gentle yet beaten, determined yet slapped down, generous yet always taken advantage of – has made it through her training and is off to hopes of a better life in Singapore.

Dear readers, we end the pre-Singapore part of Trixie’s Trilogy.
Trailer Park Trixie's Torments Part I – Branchwater to Singapore:icon_popcorn:

After a badly needed break, I shall return with a much shorter story called
Trailer Park Trixie's Torments Part II – Ten Days in Singapore:icon_popcorn:
which will retell, mostly from Trixie’s viewpoint, her short, eventful stay in that magical city.

Stay tuned!:popcorn:
 
Speaking of Singapore, today is National Day of Singapore, (Malay: Hari Kebangsaan Singapura; Chinese: 新加坡國慶日; Tamil: சிங்கப்பூரின் தேசிய நாள்)

Must bring back fond memories for Barbara, Amanda, Josephine, and now Trixie!
 
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