A Darker Shade Of Pink

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A DARKER SHADE OF PINK Chapter 1: . . . . . you are feeling relaxed, so very relaxed, floating in your little boat along the river on this warm summers afternoon. You are wonderfully relaxed and at ease, at one with yourself . . . floating, floating along. There you are laying back in your little boat the sun warm on your naked body.’ His voice is slightly off speed, a droning monotonously monotone monologue, hypnotic, blending perfectly with the light synthesizer music coming from the cassette player in the corner. He has his eyes closed, as does the twenty-something man sitting opposite him in the worn but comfortable brown leather armchair. The therapist in his late twenties continues. ‘Floating along the river with out a care in the world. You half sit up and place a cushion behind your head so that you can see the riverbanks gliding by and beyond see green fields, hedges, a hill in the distance off to the left. Coming up on the right you see there is someone sitting near the riverbank. Yes it’s a woman, sitting on a brightly coloured blanket having a little picnic. You suddenly realise how thirsty you are and how nice it would be to have a drink and you think to yourself you should stop the boat and get out and join the girl drinking her bottle of water and eating her sandwich. No sooner thought than done and you are out of the boat walking towards the woman whose name you know to be Caroline and who is twenty one years old. She is expecting you and is smiling with pleasure to see you. She is wearing a white top and you are aware of her nipples pushing against the thin white fabric of her top though she has small breasts and you follow her tanned legs slowly from her toes up the length of her calves to her knees, aware of the fair down glimmering in the sunlight and beyond, creeping up her thighs to stop at the hem of her short white skirt some six inches from her white pantied crotch. You are standing before her naked and she is smiling and saying hello and so you sit down cross-legged resting your hands on your crotch to conceal the stirrings of an erection.’ Carl Langdon, aged 29, five ten tall and one fifty pounds heavy opens his eyes and casually checks the status of his client Clive who though sitting could easily be asleep. No discernible bulging in the crotch area. Too soon for that. ‘A few more months of weekly sessions and I’ll have him shagging some cunt even if it is in a blow up doll.’ He thinks with little conviction. Clive bodily stirs so Carl continues in a mellifluous tone. ‘You partake of a drink and a sandwich and help yourself to a few strawberries and the girl whose is a brunette, smiles and laughs at what you say though there is no sound so you don’t have to think of anything to say. The scene writes itself’. Carl pauses and takes a few sips of water from the glass on the coffee table by his side. It is warm in the therapy room and sunny outside still as he can see through the crack in the heavy drawn curtains. 'Just about time to wind this session up. Don’t want to give him a scare and confront him with a wide- open pussy just yet as it could put his therapy back years. Not that it would be a bad thing financially. It is a good to have a few clients who are in therapy for the long haul. It takes time but I am confident that between us we can change his

sexual orientation. Where was I? ‘You feel relaxed and at ease Clive. Relaxed and comfortable and not a little intrigued by this girl. It comes into your mind that you would like to run a hand up the inside of her thigh, to stroke in a circular motion the fine hairs there, to gently squeeze the flesh of her upper thigh. Yes. That would be nice.’ He pauses for 3 – 4 seconds. ‘But not today’. . . . ‘Take a few deep breaths Clive. Inhale deeply and exhale slowly. You are calm and relaxed. Feeling good. Calm and relaxed. Our session is coming to an end and shortly I will count you up from one to ten, count you up the ten steps to normal consciousness. With each step you take you will become more wide awake, more aware of what’s going on around you but you will remember our session here today and follow any advice that I have given you or will give you but you trust me and you know that I am helping you to be the person you want to be. Now I am counting you up from one to ten. One, starting to wake up now, two, three, becoming more awake, four, five, waking up now, six, seven, awake and aware, eight and wide awake, nine eyes open, ten and back to your new and improved consciousness’ Clive is awake now rubs his eyes stretches and gives a sheepish smile. ‘How do you feel Clive? ‘A little bit tired’ ‘Of course. Have a drink of water’ Clive picks up a glass of water from his side of the coffee table and takes a large gulp. ‘I think we are making progress. Remember to stop reading gay magazines and most of all avoid going into public toilets and no loitering in the park.' Carl rises from his seat as does Clive and together they leave the therapy room and pass into the hall. ‘Think about girls Clive as much as you can. Appreciate them aesthetically, intellectually and talk to them when you have the chance and it is appropriate. But be careful. We don’t want females thinking you’re a sex maniac. Do we? That sheepish smile in response. Carl opens the door and Clive exits. ‘Same time next week. Be good’. Carl cautions. ‘Right. Time for a cup of coffee.' He says to himself. Carl goes into the large bright kitchen and pours a mug of coffee from the jug and reheats it in the microwave, takes it to the table, sits down and lights a Marlboro. He wonders if his seven o clock appointment will turn up for his first of three ‘giving up smoking’ sessions. 'Doubtful on such a pleasant summers evening.' By the time he has finished his coffee it is well past seven so his thoughts turn to dinner. He takes out a quiche lorraine from the fridge and puts it in the oven on gas mark 4, places a large ready-washed potato in the microwave, takes out the makings of a salad from the fridge and pours himself a large vodka in a large glass, topping it up with orangeade. ‘An evening on the computer updating the clients files and a session on the internet.’ He promises himself. ‘I’ll go for an early morning jog’. He programs in. Carl works from home. A large 3-bedroom detached property with a small garden in the front with drive and a long garden in the back, secluded and private with a shed where are stored a mountain bike, gardening hardware, the outdated and unwanted

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computer items, old chairs and mismatched miscellanea accumulated over the past few years. Entering the front door one enters the hall which contains two chairs, a small table, a potted plant resting thereon. The walls are white emulsioned and on one wall is a small notice which reads ‘Please do not discuss the purpose of your visit – confidentiality is important’. To the left is the door leading into the therapy room, to the right is Carl’s living room and office. The door at the back leads to the kitchen and utility room. Upstairs is the master bedroom, a guest room and a spare room where Carl works out with the weights. The overall décor of the house is minimalistic and functional with pockets of focus. On the death of his mother some four years ago Carl cleared out most of the clutter and debris accumulated during her eclectic and eccentric life. Having an appreciation of art but little idea of the value of antiques and ethnic artefacts most items were despatched to the local auctioneers and he was pleasantly surprised to receive a cheque for a little over sixteen hundred pounds some weeks later. To imply that Carl is not sentimental is to misunderstand his relationship with his mother. To him she was and still is a conundrum, a larger than life Tallulah Bankhead; exciting, entertaining and thoroughly unmotherly. He still has mixed emotions on reviewing the occasion of his fourteenth birthday when she whisked him off to Paris for the weekend and dumped him off with a one-eyed buxom, brandy drinking, gauloise smoking French prostitute. 'To make a man of you.’ She proclaimed extolling the virtues of all things French whilst decrying the uptight repressed attitude towards sex of the English. The experience had done him no harm as far as he could tell from examination of his psyche, je ne regret Colette, though he could never understand why she chose to retreat to the quintessential English seaside town which is Bournemouth; if one ignores the ubiquitous students, English and foreign. Jogging along Parkwood Road, the clean fresh air only moderately polluted by the exhaust fumes of the medium to heavy traffic Carl feels a-ok, breathing lightly, slappity slap of sole on pavement, negotiating around that man walking his dog, a little scowl at the three junior school kids being corralled into the range rover by the irate over-weight mum. He and she exchanged small scowls. On and along to the intersection with Southbourne Road then doing a right, passing the deli on his right and the Malt & Hops on his left, the welcome appearance of Fisherman’s walk, the run down the meandering path bordered on each side by trees and bushes, an oasis of near quietude, manoeuvre around or over the dog shit, here comes the pond, the cliff top, the lope down the zig-zag and along the promenade, a wave to a fellow jogger, the waves licking at the shoreline lacklustre, stops and takes a few deep breaths when the mobile in his tracksuit trousers demands his attention. ‘Hello. Hi and good morning to you. You're right. Yes its lovely. I think that is a good idea. In about twenty minutes then’. He ends the call. Forty five minutes later he is spreading a generous helping of strawberry jam onto a warm croissant, having a cup of tea sitting at the kitchen table with the patio door open half listening to the latest traffic report on Wave Fm whilst Cathy his part-time assistant and some time lover finishes off her shower up in the bathroom. The invitation to breakfast was part real/part euphemism as they both know the message is ‘come round

and shag me, please.’ It has its advantages her living so close for the occasional nooky and when he wants some help with a healing session. She is enthusiastic in both departments though not very good in either. Hobbies not passions. However. Carl with his dark brown hair, hazel eyes, gaunt features, his height and slim physique, thinks they look good together, though not a perfect pair, particularly whilst fucking. He has a compassionate and caring attitude towards her as a friend. A fuck buddy even. Anyway some energetic morning thrustings is good for his fitness regime and it brightens up her day. This morning they screw standing up in the hall with her legs wrapped round his waist and as he is about to come the postman delivers the mail most noisily breaking their rhythm momentarily. They have a laugh about it afterwards. Age twenty four, a spinster of the parish and as she sees it the victim of several relationships Cathy is a brunette, with hair styled short, slim and was on the cusp of a slide into anorexia when she first came to the healing group; a psychological weapon in her armoury no doubt used to gain a temporary advantage within relationships though ultimately self-defeating. She had come along to Carl’s weekly spiritual healing & meditation group he holds in a hall on Friday evenings for treatment some nine months ago and had become a regular attendee. She had soon singled him out to give her healing from amongst the four or five other healers and had pursued him avidly to give her healing privately one on one. This did not seem to be a problem for Carl as long as he was in control and it fitted in with his holistic approach to health and well-being. His and hers. After a quick shower at home Carl is ready for his ten thirty appointment. Dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt and grey slacks he trots down stairs to open the front door just as Mrs Morales is about to knock on the door. ‘Come in Mrs Morales. How are you today?’ He opens her mental file and quickly scans the salient points whilst conducting her into the therapy room. Early fifties, married to a postal sorting office night worker, children grown-up and flown the nest. Free-floating anxiety generally, border-line agoraphobic, obsessive about toilet cleanliness so limited to her own in-house facilities; areas of acute anxiety leading to hypertension; full-blown panic attacks on several occasions leading to fainting and on other occasions to assault and battery on suspected perpetrators; perpetrating illtreatment on animals. Observations: nervous and fidgety, low self-esteem, sexually frustrated. Suggestions: invest in a vibrator with longer lasting batteries and a large dildo or get a divorce. Therapy: Relaxing and calming post-hypnotic suggestions combined with simple techniques for dealing with anxiety as it arises. ‘Nice weather we are having. Please sit down.' A nervous little sparrow. She sits in the chair indicated, knees tight together in the protective armour of her skirt. 'Loosen up dear.' He thinks to himself. ‘Its too hot. I don’t like it. It’s all right for people because they can go and cool down in the sea or get into the shade and have a cool drink but animals cant do that. They are the ones that suffer. People don’t consider them. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to own pets’. Carl felt himself getting hot and sweaty and wishes he was wearing a tie so he could

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loosen it but the top button is already undone and it would be indecorous to undo any more buttons. ‘Has anything happened this week to cause you concern?’ enquires Carl. ‘I went to Asda the day before yesterday in the afternoon about three o clock and it was sweltering. I parked my car and was walking to the entrance when I passed a car with a large golden retriever on the back seat. The windows were all closed up tight and the poor dog was in distress. It was whining and could hardly breath poor thing. I was furious and wondering what I could do when this family came up whose car it was. So I remonstrated with the man, this thug in his shorts wearing a cap and he even had a tattoo on his arm of a dog. When I told him that he shouldn’t be cruel to his dog and be more considerate because animals are not so dumb as he might think he started getting abusive and using expletives. I have never heard such disgusting language. They drove off and I was so upset and I had to go back to my car and sit there for ages. Then I drove home’. ‘Well I think you did the right thing. Did you take down the license plate number?’ ‘No. I was too upset to think properly.’ ‘Ah’. ‘And if I had phoned the police they wouldn’t have done anything. Do you think I did wrong. If you had seen that poor suffering animal, well. I wish I was a man then I would have punched him in the face’. Her blue eyes blaze and her body tenses as if preparing to launch herself out of her seat to grab at Carl’s throat and throttle him. ‘Mrs Morales. Calm down. I think you handled the situation very well. No one was physically attacked. You managed to restrain yourself which is good.’ ‘Thank you Carl’. Taking a few deep breaths and relaxing more. ‘Just remember that you have already had two cautions this year so the police will take a dim view of you taking the law into your own hands’. He gives her a beaming, reassuring but at the same time paternal smile. ‘Now I want us to do a relaxation exercise like we have done before. That’s right take a few deep breaths and relax. Close your eyes now. It is dark. Black. Imagine that you are in a cinema, your own private cinema and in front of you is a large black screen. Now on this screen in your mind I want you to visualise a circle, a white circle, there on the black screen in your mind. Picture this white circle and when you have a clear image of a white circle I want you to visualise a cross in the white circle bisecting the circle, up and down, from left to right so that there are quarters in the circle. Now I want you to focus on the centre of the circle, focus on the mid-point of the circle and as you do you find yourself becoming sleepier and sleepier. Your mind is becoming sleepy and you cannot focus anymore but feel yourself drifting away but you can still hear the sound of my voice. You can hear the sound of my voice as all other thoughts now fade away.’ At times Carl finds himself being hypnotised by his voice which is when he reaches for the glass of water and gets up from his seat and wanders around the room whilst still talking. He, like his clients, is in a special place; a dreamland where nothing is substantial and many things are possible. Not that there is much room for wandering what with the two armchairs and coffee table, the couch, the side board whereon sits the cassette player. Today he peeks out of the curtains into his back garden and sees a neighbour’s cat once again nonchalantly strolling across the lawn and once again he considers whether to purchase a .22 air rifle after all.

'No. Consider your obsessions carefully. A holistically healthy person such as I can chose which unhealthy aberrations to indulge in.' ‘Now Mrs Morales I want you to picture yourself sitting on a bench in a park, lets say Redhill Park which is near you, or any other park that you are familiar with. You are sitting on a bench with your hands in your lap. Imagine yourself there now. There are people walking by, some kids playing on the swings and other apparatus. A couple walking by with a dog. In your mind I want you to see yourself placing the thumb and index finger together. That’s your thumb and the finger next to it. Press them gently together. Apply a little pressure. I want you to see yourself doing this little exercise of pressing your thumb and finger together and as you do this, each time you do this, when you leave this room you are going to be calm and relaxed. When you think about leaving your house you will do this little exercise and then you will confident about leaving the house. When you are walking down the street you will press your thumb and finger together on both hands and you will feel calm and relaxed. You will remember to do this exercise whenever you feel you need to be calm and confident. If you understand then say yes’. He pauses and Mrs Morales replies in the affirmative. ‘When I awaken you in a few minutes I will remind you to do the exercise whenever you feel a need to. The world is not a threatening place and people are generally good and well intentioned. Now ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Do you ever talk to your husband about your problems and discuss how he might be able to help?’ ‘I try to talk to him but he is not interested in talking. He thinks I don’t have enough to occupy my mind. I don’t think he loves me anymore?’ ‘It must be difficult but perhaps there will come an opportunity over the weekend to have a chat. He doesn’t work nights then does he?’ ‘No.’ ‘In the five months you have been coming to see me you haven’t discussed anything to do with your therapy with him?’ ‘He doesn’t know I come to see you’. Carl is flabbergasted . ‘Communication is at the heart of psychotherapy Mrs Morales’. ‘But not at the heart of my marriage’ ‘Time is up now but remember what we have agreed and I will see you again next week. You have my number if you need to ring me.’ Carl escorts her along the hall and out of the door. Carl is on his lunch break in the back garden sunning himself in shorts and tshirt, refreshing himself with a cup of tea and a cigarette when his mobile phone chirps into life. ‘Hullo, Carl here’. A male voice on the other end of the connection he doesn’t recognise. ‘Mr Robinson. Yes, three o clock. You would like to reschedule. I see. Ok. I’m not in the office at the moment as you probably gathered so I will get back to you when I consult my diary. No problem. Thanks for letting me know. Bye’. He turns off his phone. He picks up his phone and presses the keys. ‘Cathy. Its me. Are you busy. Great. Lets go to the beach. I was thinking Shell Bay. Grab

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a picnic together and I will pick you up in twenty minutes. Of course you can. Well tell her there’s been a family emergency. Ok. Right. See you in twenty’. Having a car is more of a luxury than a necessity working as he does from home though he does appreciate the convenience of his red Vauxhall Astra if little else about driving. The roads of Bournemouth are like most towns in the country in permanent rush hour during the day and the influx of holiday-makers only makes matters worse. At times he wonders why he ever returned though having your mother dying is good enough reason. ‘Even in death she fucked with my life.’ He has been known to utter on several occasions, usually when under the influence and feeling sorry for himself. He beeps his horn outside of Cathy’s semi with the well-tended lawn and flowerbeds. He sees her at the window in the living room seeing him, puts a Travelling Wilburys cd into the player and there she comes carrying a bag of towels, a picnic cooler and a blanket. ' 'She is so organised. Comes from being an accountant and tax consultant. Earns more than me and owns her house.' She is wearing a floral summer dress that hangs well on her slim frame. Pert breasts and nice arse. 'Perhaps I should marry her. But right now I should help her with her burden.' She is in and they are off. ‘I must be home by seven as I have some accounts to finish.’ ‘Fine’. They make good time till they get to Sandbanks where they join the tail-end of the queue for the ferry. ‘Buggery bollocks, we should have known’. ‘Never mind. Lets just enjoy our time out together. I like this record. Dire Straits is it’? ‘The Travelling Wilburys. We are moving forward’. Ten minutes later. ‘How much is it? Two pound sixty for a three minute journey. Must work out about how much you earn in an hour Cath’. ‘I wish’. She smiles. Yes, her smile can be quite captivating framed by her light brown hair. Over on the opposite side of the channel luck would have it that they arrive at the spot where an old couple are just pulling out of a space on the side of the road which Carl is able to squeeze the Astra into. Shell Bay is a very pleasant area with a wide panoramic view of the coastline encompassing the Poole and Bournemouth Bay beaches. A glorious sunny day though the distant pier at Bournemouth is rather fuzzy in the haze. Between them they carry the picnic box, the towels and blanket and sundries and after awhile stop to take off their footwear as it is easier to walk on the wet sand than the dry. They walk for over twenty minutes or so to reach the stretch of beach for nudists. It is worth the effort. The stretch of beach is backed by grassy dunes where one can find one's own private place and beyond that is open country leading into woods before reaching the road. A unique area in this part of the world. Quite a few people around. Young couples, families with children, seniors. On the occasional grassy bank of dunes stand a solitary male, naked and brown as a berry, scanning the horizon and keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings in an unofficial capacity.

‘I see the Meerkats are on duty as usual.’ Observes Carl. ‘Lets plonk our stuff down here on the beach for now and go for a swim shall we?’ Suggests Cathy doing just as she says. ‘Good idea.’ replies Carl. ‘Those guys you mean?' ‘Yeah. I think Meer is the German word for sea. And when explorers first saw these creatures standing on their back legs and scanning the horizons for any danger they were reminded of sailors up in the crows nest on a ship on the look-out for land, whales or mermaids. As these explorers or zoologists were German they gave then a German name. Or something like that. Are you going to strip off then’? ‘I was considering whether to put my costume on. What about you’? ‘With all these long salamis swinging around I ought to keep covered up.’ ‘Don’t be shy.’ Says Cathy pulling off her dress and pulling down her panties. ‘Is that true about the Meerkats?’ She continues. ‘It could be’. The ten yard walk to the water lapping on the beach is a self-conscious time. The first contact of toe and water. ‘Shit, its fucking freezing.’ Carl recoils back in horror. ‘Come on. We’ll soon get used to it.’ Says Cathy sloshing through the water up to her knees. ‘When we are completely numb all over.’ Taking a few more steps. Soon they are up past their knees which is when Cathy starts splashing him, little realising how close she is to death, Carl takes the plunge and throws himself into and under the water. He starts swimming and enjoins Cathy to do likewise. Several minutes later and it feels warm in the water and twenty minutes later they have had enough so head for the beach. ‘Lets grab our stuff off and find ourselves a place in the dunes shall we?’ It takes a few minutes to acclimatise and feel the warmth of the afternoon sun again. They lay out the blanket and set out the picnic; ham and tomato sandwiches, cheese and tomato sandwiches, crisps, bottled water, Danish pastries. They are in a place of quietude some sixty yards removed from the waves amongst a backdrop of distant surf susurrations, a radio, the intermittent sound of voices. ‘I always like coming here.' Announces Cathy. ‘Mmm. How are the dance classes going?' ‘Really good. Its such fun. You ought to come along sometime.' ‘Have you got a regular partner there?’ He enquires selecting a cheese sandwich. ‘Well there is Fabian I dance with frequently but he keeps on pestering me to invite him around for coffee afterwards and to go out with him’. ‘Why don’t you? Has he got a hunchback and a gammy leg or a severe halitosis problem?’ ‘No nothing like that.’ She laughs. ‘He just wants to get his end away?’ Says Carl . ‘Mmm. I think he probably does as he has been finished with his girlfriend for over a year he tells me. I don’t really fancy him. The thing is I think he is desperate for a relationship again and I don’t want one with him’. ‘So you can't have casual sex with him because he will be wanting to move in with you’.

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Carl sums it up. ‘That’s about it’. ‘Why do you have casual sex with me?’ ‘Is it casual then?’ ‘Bloody flies.’ Says Carl attempting to swat one with his hand. With the picnic done they have a session of sunbathing. Cathy is laying on her stomach dozing and Carl is sitting up leaning against the bank reading a Harry Bosch investigation and admiring Cathy’s lithe form in repose and consequently getting a hard on. He taps her on the shoulder. ‘Cathy. Better turn over or you’ll get burnt.’ ‘Mm. Ok. What time is it?' Sleepily. ‘Five ten. I’ll put some sun tan lotion on you’. Several people walk close by noisily though unaware of their presence. He applies a little lotion to her forehead in small circular motions. Then below her eyes and on her cheeks. Slowly and gently. Stroking her neck, her collar bone and shoulders, Long strokes along her arms, to her hands. He is aware of her slow, steady, deeper breathing. Sitting crossed leg alongside her prone form he squeezes a large glob of lotion into his left hand and places it on her right tit. She reacts to the chill of the lotion by a slight intake of breath. He slowly massages the cream on to her breast , rubs her nipple between thumb and forefinger then does the same to her left. Cathy’ s eyes are closed, she is motionless apart from the rise and fall of her chest. A low murmuring comes from her barely audible. Kneeling now he applies more lotion to her abdomen down to the pelvic area. Her pussy is freshly shaven. More lotion to stroke into her thighs.. Cathy raises her head and says his name in question. 'Is this a good idea? It certainly feels good.' ‘I don’t think there are any nude cop patrol out here.’ He reassures her. He rubs her clit with the middle finger of his left hand then glides two fingers into her receptive cunt, out, then in, out he strokes her inner thighs before rubbing her clit again. A shiver runs through her, the sexual imperative locks in. ‘Carl, oh Carl.’ Her voice says. ‘Fuck me, fuck me.’ Her mind says. With several fingers of his left hand in her fanny and his right hand easing her thighs apart several inches, loud voices and clubbing music are coming nearer so he take hold of the towel he has been laying on and deftly flicks it over Cathy’s midriff and thighs his fingers moving slowly inside her still. The interlopers pass. 'Extras on the set of someone’s else's life, moving onto their next unpaid and barely noticed gig; a minor irritant in the theme of skeins.' So thinks Carl. He leans over Cathy and lightly kisses her on the lips the end of his cock brushing her side and whispers. ‘Don’t do or say anything.' He pulls the towel away and is laying on top of her in one fluid motion. He gently pushes his cock against the outer lips of her cunt, a little probe and she opens up wider. The head of his circumcised cock goes deeper a couple of centimetres and he stops, pauses, flexes, withdraws a centimetre, pauses, pushes forwards a few centimetres and stops.

Cathy is panting every ten seconds, feeling his every the slight controlled movements. Cock and cunt working together in clock work perfection. She feels a hot red flush spreading down her neck to her chest down her stomach into her genitals. She wants to scream. Every movement, pausing, flexing, being inside her is becoming painful in its pleasure. Her whole being focuses on his cock withdrawing inch by inch till she fears he will take it out completely which would be an unbearable torture. Slowly, deliberately he thrusts inside her slick cunt and she feels her orgasm rippling through her like never ever before. Her hands clasp his back, her nails dig into him, her mouth is open gasping for breath as he pulls back and pauses, like a car on a roller coaster at the apex of the ride teetering on the edge before charging down that steep incline, and thrusts hard once, twice, three times then on the fourth he grunts and spurts his spunk and she ripples into a second and third orgasm. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He is laying back, his head and chest slightly raised smoking a cigarette whilst Cathy is laying at an angle to him with her head on his stomach. ‘Mind I don’t get ash in your face.’ He says ‘No you mind you don’t get ash in my face.' She responds. Minutes pass. ‘What was that about Carl?’ ‘What?’ ‘What we just did’. ‘Tantric sex.' He says matter of factly. ‘Where did this come from? Why here, now? I am confused.' ‘Why? I thought you enjoyed it.' ‘I did more than enjoy it. It was mind-blowing.’ ‘Well then just leave it at that. A day to remember. I’m going for a swim, coming?’ ‘No. You go ahead.' Cathy was very quiet on the way home. Their sex had never been that intense or somehow so familiar. Theirs had always been a relationship of light emotionalism. Superficial. She hasn’t been on the pill for eight months or so and only recently has she started menstruating regularly, though she has been on time the past 2 months. ‘When did I start my period? Ten days ago or so. Do women know the moment of conception? Intuition.’ A peck on the cheek and a ‘See you on Friday.' A little wave and he drives off. Chapter 2: There is nothing in particular he can put his finger on but Carl is troubled. Mr Lavington is not a heavy smoker and his wife is on his case because of the new baby so he might only need one follow-up session. Healing for Leslie for her IBS is followed by John a compulsive finger biter. At the end of his working day he feels a disquieting feeling of dissatisfaction. Thirty something life angst. No he did not want to get into the ‘what is the meaning of life’ syndrome. His occasional delvings into philosophy, psychology and religion have been to feed his intellectual curiosity and pursue a career and not to find an existential philosophy to hang his head and heart on. He isn't a

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searcher, he would tell himself and others. He was a pragmatist, a realist, a bit of a shit really but he was comfortable with that. ‘I’m just bored.’ He tells him self. ‘No more than that’. He sits in the therapy room looking at his certificates on the wall. His accreditation to a Psychotherapy Institute, his membership of an internationally recognised Hypnotherapy Association, Spiritual Healer, degree in Metaphysics. All very impressive and all well-earned. His eyes rest on one of his favourite pieces of inspirational prose on the wall that he has had framed and reads the words silently. ‘I have my doubts tonight Ralph.’ He thinks. Unlikely to find him in a crowded pub or a late night club, he checks his emails in the living room, pops upstairs for a twenty minute work out with the dumb-bells and phones Doug, a friend of several years standing, and invites himself over. ‘See you in half an hour.' He changes into jeans and sweatshirt and steps into a pair of brown slip-ons, decides to skip eating and get a take away later. On the way out he punches in 4 digits on the alarm panel, gets in his car and joins the traffic along the Christchurch Road, stops at the offlicense near Boscombe Gardens and purchases 6 bottles of German wheat beer and drives in direction Winton. Doug, wife and daughter live in a large 3 bedroom flat above a building society shop on the main thoroughfare. Mainly a shopping and residential area with several pubs attracting a younger clientele and several social clubs catering for an older. Carl parks in a side street grabs the bag of beers from the back seat and strolls along the pavement to his destination. 'Here’s the man, the man with the beer.’ Greets Doug at the top of the stairs having buzzed Carl in. Entrance to the main room is via the kitchen and hall. The hall is decorated with retro rock posters from the 60’s and 70’s; the Rolling Stones’ ‘Tongue’, The Who’s ‘Union Jack’, the ubiquitous ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ and many more. But Doug is not an old hippy. He is 34 years old with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, left ear ringed, an inch wide silver pentacle on a chain round his neck but no tattoos. In his line of business he wants to keep a low profile. Not playing rhythm guitar in an Eagles come Tom Petty band or even the day job of caretaker up at the Uni. These activities are for fun. His business is up in the attic. ‘Come on through.' The living room is a mess in a friendly junk shop kind of way. A bulky dark purple 3 piece suite takes up much of the floor space, several coffee tables are dotted around the room. Directly behind the sofa lurks the malevolent presence of Doug’s Bang & Olafsen sound system with Technic speakers the size of walk-in wardrobes. What carpet space remains is mostly covered with album covers, music mags not forgetting Petra’s knitting machine, the largest tv screen seen outside of a showroom and the dining table and chairs by the bay window. ‘How you doing man? Have a seat.' ‘I’m doing ok. Do you want to put these beers in the fridge to cool them down?’ Says Carl clearing a space on the sofa. ‘Sure thing. I’ve got a bottle of wine chilling in the freezer so lets crack it open’. ‘Nice one.' Carl takes out his cigarettes and is just about to light up when Doug reenters the room carry an opened bottle of wine and two tumblers.

‘What were you watching on the box?’ ‘The Sopranos. Season 3 on dvd. Hey roll yourself a joint the makings are on the table.’ ‘Good idea. Where’s the girls tonight?’ enquires Carl. ‘Round Petra’s mothers. She’s not feeling too good. Actually she fell down the stairs whilst pissed and broke her ankle so she is a little incapacitated at the moment.' ‘Shit.' ‘She takes carpe diem too literally at times and with a vengeance.' ‘Every form of refuge has its price.' Quotes Carl. ‘You’re not starting to turn Eagles lyrics into high philosophy are you? Shame on you.' ‘Nice drop of wine. French circa 95 if I am not mistaken.' ‘Californian circa 2000 it says on the label.' ‘This bud is very sticky.’ Carl remarks breaking off small pieces of the greyish green substance from the six inches long and one inch thick mother lode and placing it on the opened cigarette on the bed of five Ziz-Zags. ‘Over-flowing with natures juices plus the x-factor. Lets have some music on. How about some ‘Nine Inch Nails.’ He asks rhetorically. ‘Are you still knocking off that accountant you’ve been seeing? Cathy right? You ought to bring her round some time. Here’s some board for the roach. Let me top up your glass. The band had a gig last week. Believe it or not at a funeral. Not in the chapel but at the wake after in the hall at the Five Ways. Everyone got pissed out of their brains, a scuffle developed and the police arrived and calmed things down. What a night’ ‘Who was it in aid of? Who died?’ ‘We did for awhile. A retired London mobster so I heard. Just bought a house over Sandbanks and keeled over in his Jacuzzi. There were a lot of flash suits, jewellery and big hair-dos. And quite a few tears, kisses and cuddles.' ‘And that was just the guys.’ Adlibs Carl. He lights the joint and draws deeply to fire it up and immediately has a coughing spasm. ‘Good stuff hey.’ Comments Doug. ‘Your move I think’ Responds Carl. They are sitting at the dining room table a chess game in progress between them. ‘We’ve been playing this game for over two hours. Why don’t we call it a draw?’ ‘Why don’t you just concede.’ Challenges Carl. ‘Bollocks to it. Want another beer?’ ‘No thanks. I’ll have a smoke and go on and grab a take-away on the way home.' ‘Going round to see that lady of yours? Have a bit of midnight nookie. That’s one of the good things about living together its always on tap. No matter what time Petra gets in I’ll be having a ride.’ ‘Doug you are an old fashioned romantic. How much do I owe you for the bud?’ ‘Forty to you. I get the chance when I’m out with the band to shag some tasty birds at times, more than you might think. And as for at the Uni I have to go to the bog and have one off the wrist to calm myself down.' ‘Perks of the job. But is there a point to this confession if that is what it is and why tell me anyway?’ ‘The point is that its good to have a woman in your life, a partner. Also everyone should have the experience of being a family man, for a few years anyway.' After leaving Doug’s place round midnight Carl is hungry and thirsty so drives

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back to Boscombe and parks outside Iceland and strolls back along the High Street and enters a chicken & ribs establishment opened till late. Despite the hour there are quite a few people around. Holiday-makers out for a stroll, clubbers leaving the Opera House early, the inevitable drunk or two. The several tables in the joint are occupied however the counter is free. He orders 3 pieces of chicken, a portion of ribs, fries and a large cola. The man of eastern European persuasion asks Carl to repeat his order several times but whether this is because the man has little grasp of English or Carl is having trouble getting his brain and tongue in gear together we will never know but can only surmise. Carl is obviously spaced out and not his usual well-coordinated self which is why when he turns to leave clutching his brown bag of goodies in his right hand and a large polystyrene beaker brimming to the top in his left he almost collides with a woman who is standing behind him. He manages to pull himself short thus only a small tsunami of cola leaps over the brim of the beaker to harmlessly splatter on the tiled floor though several droplets do rebound onto a shoe. ‘Hey I am deeply sorry.’ Apologises Carl gravely. Red lips, eye shadow and mascara framed with long hair, black and speaking of ravens. Mid-forties probably. Her fingers, wrists, ears and neck are all adorned with jewellery ‘It’s quite alright dear.' She smiles a toothpaste ad type smile. The face is flushed with a little too much alcohol and the make-up is a little smudged. ‘Don’t I know you?’ Enquires Carl. ‘I don’t know you dear. If you don’t mind I would like to order.’ Carl decides to walk the few yards into the fairly quiet precinct find a seat and have his midnight feast. A group of foreign students pass by animatedly trying to make themselves understood by each other in broken English. ‘This blow does make the mouth dry. Like my tongue is welded to the roof of my mouth.' He takes a large gulp followed by several more then he sees her walking in his direction on line to avoid him by at least two yards. ‘She looks like she’s been partying.’ He observes to himself. She appears to be wearing mostly black, a denim jacket, high heel shoes which are not the best things in her semipissed state. ‘I do know you. You’re the lady from the flower shop aren’t you? Why don’t you come and join me and we can eat and talk together?’ ‘Alright. As long as I can have a sip of your drink. I didn’t think to get one.’ She sits down next to him.. ‘I go pass your shop some mornings when I'm jogging and I’ve seen you pottering about.' ‘Excuse me. I do not potter. I am a professionally trained flower arranger and a member of an internationally recognised association.' Mild indignation. ‘This is so synchronistic don’t you think. I see you the other morning and tonight I nearly spill my drink over you and now we meet again.' He opens his bag and pulls out a chicken leg and a handful of fries. ‘Bugger I didn’t get any ketchup. How about you?’ ‘Sorry. What’s with this synchronicity. Something to do with time is it or Swiss watches?’ ‘I guess it is really. Here take a swig. Chronos was the god of time I think and Jung was Swiss. Very astute of you.'

‘Watch it sonny. I'm not thick you know. Just a little pissed.' ‘Have you been, uh, somewhere special then?' 'I've been out with a mate of mine. We went for a drink then down a club for a little boogie. I didn’t want to leave but she had to get home.' Tackling a large piece of southern fried. ‘Perhaps we were destined to meet tonight.' Says Carl nibbling on a rib. ‘You’re full of shit you know that. Why don’t you pop back to the shop and get another drink before they close. I’ll look after your food.' ‘Cant argue with that.' Carl gets up and returns to the restaurant. The effects of a couple of beers and a half bottle of wine have become muted and he is becoming more awake by the half hour. 'There is a bit of a speed feel about this blow.’ He acknowledges to himself. ‘I wonder if I am going to get my leg over with her?’ Two minutes later he’s back and the talking and eating resume. ‘So where have you been tonight Stud?’ ‘Ha. Stud’s alright for now. But the name is Carl.' ‘Vanessa.’ ‘Vanessa may or may not.’ ‘You’re a cheeky bugger. Its getting a bit chilly so I am going to go.’ ‘So you live over the shop do you. And you are going to walk home from here? I've got my car just up there so I can drop you off if you want. You can even invite me in for a coffee if you want.’ ‘You’ll be lucky.' ‘I'm feeling lucky.' Thinks Carl as they gather together the debris, dump it in a bin and go find his car. Vanessa revealed, is in good shape. At 45 her body is voluptuous, her breasts ripe fecund melons, in a pre-raphaelite way. A few stretch marks and some cellulite on the thighs are indications of the two children she has given birth to. She has a long faint six inch scar on the calf of her left leg. Barely noticeable. Those first five minutes, both of them naked on the bed, taking each other in are strange. With her on her back, legs wide, breathing heavily and he thrusting hard and fast. Her groans and shouts. 'Fuck me, fuck me, big boy, fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. Harder, harder. Fuck me harder.’ Carl Is having trouble concentrating, feeling almost disembodied, a near OBE, watching himself do it from above so the absurdity of the situation brought on by the copious amounts of thc in his system brings on a laughing fit that has him gasping for breath and rolling on the bed much to Vanessa’s consternation. ‘What is the matter with you?’ She snarls at him. ‘Lets just slow down for chrissakes. I can't handle it. Its just so funny.’ Still laughing. ‘What?’ She softens. ‘I am not blaming you but you are doing and saying things which you have probably done before and I'm doing the same. Come on, Big Boy. My cock is five and three quarter inches long so its certainly not big is it. I don’t know. Its us fucking someone else. Rather than each other.’ He trails off. She thumps him on the chest.

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‘That's because we don’t know each other bozo. What do you want to do, swap life stories or fuck? Hey. Your problem is you think too much. Too much thinking gets in the way. And don’t be so serious. This is fun not an art form. How about a coffee and a fag?’ ‘Steady on. It was funny that’s all. You don’t have to assassinate my personality. I’m ready now’. ‘Well I’m not. Go play with yourself whilst I use the loo.’ Forty minutes later after a session of vigorous callisthenic screwing where the only sounds have been the occasional grunt and murmur of pleasure and the slipity slap of groin contacting groin they lie together on the bed Carl smoking a three skinner, quite pleased with each others performance and looking forward to more in the same genre. ‘Do you know that we have just screwed but not even kissed.' Comments Vanessa. ‘Let me kiss you now.’ He says putting the joint in the ashtray on the side. They kiss long and deeply his left hand fondling her tits then descending to her fanny. ‘If you wash your pussy I’ll lick you out.’ Suggests Carl. ‘That will be nice. If you wash your cock I might even let you put it in my mouth’ ‘Groovy baby’. He continues smoking then and hands it to her. ‘Not for me. I need a drink.' She is straddling his face, with his tongue licking her clit, leaning forward with his cock in her mouth. Sweat drips from her as she sways in rhythm, his hands grasping her swinging tits, his tongue seeking to open her up and penetrate her. She presses down almost smothering him in her passion and pleasure. He mumbles something and she pauses allowing him to come up for air. ‘Lay down.’ He commands and she climbs off. ‘I was enjoying that.’ She says wiping the spittle from her mouth. ‘Lay down and pass me the pillows. We haven’t finished yet’. He puts a couple of pillows under her backside to raise her up somewhat then resumes his ministrations. With his left hand he opens her up like a juicy orange whilst his right reaches up and fondles first one tit then the other. His tongue probes deeper into her, then several fingers he slips into her slick cunt. Her moans of pleasure become faster and deeper. Her orgasm sweeps over her as he finger fucks her more insistently, then he pulls away in one swift motion and is kneeling upright between her thighs pulling her up and onto his cock with her legs resting on his hips and with several dozen quick hard strokes pumps his spunk inside of her. Twenty minutes later he is drinking another cup of coffee and smoking the weed again and she is dozing on her side her back facing him a half empty tumbler of vodka & oj on the bed side cabinet. His mind is in neutral just admiring her form in repose. Hot ash falls onto his stomach which makes him jump spilling his hot coffee over his leg and onto the colourful duvet. He leaps up and rushes to the bathroom where he puts cold water on his burn and rinses off his leg. While he is about it he decides to give his prick a rinse. ‘Half three. I should be going. I don’t feel that tired though. I’ll wake her up and slip her one then hit the road.’ He decides. ‘Is that you?’ Vanessa calls out. ‘No, I'm a burglar come to ravish you.' ‘I am naked and defenceless so you can do what you want with me.’

Carl rejoins her on the bed. They kiss awhile. ‘Kneel. Bend forward.’ She does as he suggests. He slips into her from the rear, gripping the cheeks of her arse. ‘Make sure you put it in the right hole.’ She cautions. Twenty minutes later Carl is dressed and ready to go. ‘I’ll call you. Sweet dreams.' Unlike male celebrities he didn’t have a stainless steel cock so several hours later he did have a sore cock. ‘I wont be doing that again, for a few days.’ He says closing the curtains then laying down on top of the duvet. ‘I'm knackered.' Chapter 3: The Healing and Meditation group meets regularly on a Friday evening between 5.30pm and 7.30pm since Carl became the organiser and informal leader. Formerly the group met during the day but as Carl put forward at a meeting some years ago it wasn’t convenient for working people. Although the meditation took place first anyone who came later could receive healing. The large furnished room is used by many disparate groups in this social services centre for the hiring fee of £20. The cost is usually covered by donations though some times Carl has to make up the shortfall, not that he minds. Several large tables, plenty of chairs and a small kitchen for making a cup of tea are provided. The two therapy couches are kept under lock and key on the premises for which there is a further monthly fee of £12. About twenty people are assembled standing or sitting in groups or already having taken places in the circle. Carl has already greeted and mingled with everyone. Tom, Barry, Derek are older healers of long standing as are Doris, Mary, Brigitte and Jean. Cathy is of less experience though treated as an equal by all, or else. There had been a problem with an elderly lady over six months ago who had a problem with Cathy and with Carls’ favouring of her but she had been asked to not return. ‘Okay everyone lets get started.’ He addresses the assembled sitting himself down. The group quickly comes together as a whole, in a circle. ‘So who would like to begin with the meditation?’ He enquires. Derek indicates in the affirmative. ‘Ok everyone close your eyes now and take a few deep breaths. Breathing in relaxation and exhaling tension and negative thoughts. Breathing in calmness and exhaling all your stress and tension.’ Continues Derek in his welsh accented sonorous voice. ‘Ok everyone lets us join hands now and say together ‘the great invocation’. “From the point of Light within the Mind of God Light streams forth into the minds of all Light illumines Earth. From the point of Love within the Heart of God Love streams forth into the hearts of all Christ is now come We are One as the Christ. From the centre where the Will of God is known Purpose guides the little wills of all

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The purpose which the Masters know and serve Through the centre which we call Humanity The plan of love and Light works out. Light. Love and Power now restore the Plan on Earth. And so it Is.” ‘Just one announcement which most of you already know about. There will be a BBQ this Saturday evening from 6.00pm at Brigitte’s house at no 101 Crowley Avenue over Poole. If anyone wants to go but has transport problems see me after. Ok everyone let the healing begin’. Carl has a long talk with Liz about her neurotic concerns for the starving people of Africa, victims of Aids and flooding and whether the Mi5 and CIA are independently or jointly bugging her phone and keeping her under surveillance. She declines healing and leaves soon after to feed the pigeons in the park. It is a hot day and despite several windows being open Carl is uncomfortable so removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. Cathy comes over to him having just received healing on the couch from Mary. ‘I phoned your house last night but I guess you were out?’ ‘I guess I was. Was there anything you wanted?’ ‘Um, no not really. You are coming to Brigette’s tomorrow aren’t you?’ ‘Yes of course. If you intend to drive you can pick me up.’ ‘Ok’ ‘How about it?’ ‘What’ ‘Giving me some healing. I feel like I’ve been up all night.’ ‘Maybe you had a nightmare.’ ‘It must have been something I ate.’ ‘There’s a couch free. I‘ll grab it.’ Carl lays on his back with his shoes off and a pillow under his head. Most of the healers in the group are hands on healers as is Cathy and Carl. This method is preferred by most people as the ‘patient’ knows where the healer is and what is going on and what is likely to happen next. Its comforting and reassuring but not necessary for healing to be effective. Starting with the head Cathy lightly places her hands on various parts of Carl’s body being aware of the seven main chakra areas and the energy being directed through her into these areas. However Carl is already asleep. Thirty minutes later refreshed Carl is welcoming a female newcomer and giving her info on the group in particular and healing in general. More woman than men come to healing and most men prefer a female healer. After this he counts up the money in the basket from donations, rings the small silver bell that is always rang to signal the end of the session and starts collecting chairs and stacking them. ‘A good group today. No miracles but help has been given and received.’ Carl says to John who is helping him. ‘I feel much better for it.’ He comments. Carl has a light tea, a bath and a quiet evening watching a few episodes of ‘six feet

under’ on dvd, reads twenty five pages from a Stuart Wilde book and is in bed by eleven. Rising at seven thirty he drinks a fast cup of tea and dressed in t-shirt, shorts and trainers sets out for a run into Kings Park exiting on the Ashley road then pounding tarmac back in to Boscombe and home. This is followed by followed by dumb-bell exercises on the lawn in the back garden for twenty minutes, then it’s a shower, breakfast of a lightly toasted bagel smothered generously with blueberry jam, a piece of cheese and a pot of tea at the table on the lawn. ‘I feel good and life is almost perfect in this moment.’ Thinks Carl. ‘Apart from that fucking dog barking three houses down.’ He cusses. The BBQ is held in the garden of Brigette, aka Mrs Seldon, widow of Magnus Seldon entrepreneur, race horse and casino owner. Quite a sprinkling of well to do personages that Carl is pleased to shake hands with. He knows many of the people from the healing group and also others from Mrs Seldon’s spiritualist group which he attends occasionally as a public relations exercise. Quite a few healers come from a background of spiritualism. Mingle, mingle mingle. The barbie and buffet are magnificent and expensive being provided by the an exclusive banqueting company with offices in Poole, London and Dubai, apparently. Staff wander perpetually around looking to satisfy any gastronomic need or whim. Carl gets trapped between a willow tree and Jerome Seldon who is something in the city, like a wanker, with a cocaine habit, who bends Carl’s ear with unrequested financial advice. On the corner stage the band plays on. A discrete jazz band. A juggler in a clowns suit and a clown juggling throw clubs at each other, into the air and at the guests narrowing missing a nose or forehead. Luckily Cathy comes to his rescue dragging him away to talk to someone who has actually met Sai Baba. Carl quaffs several litres of strong Belgian beer before the thunderstorm starts and the al fresco proceedings are abandoned for the comfort of the lounge and adjacent rooms. A piano tinkles into life and a little crowd gather round in expectation of some event. A woman in a long flowing turquoise dress , with long blonde hair set with a glittering tiara, a golden necklace adorning her swan like neck, sparkling blues eyes and red shiny lips appears next to the male pianist. A spotlight is turned on and illuminates her with a shimmering auric white light. Carl bends his head slightly and whispers to Cathy. ‘Doesn’t she remind you of Roger Rabbits girlfriend.' ‘Ssssh. She’s going to sing.’ And indeed she does. Falling water laced with honey. ‘Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed; Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed; Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless, aching need; I say love, it is a flower and you its only seed’. The room full of people is absolutely quiet the only contention being the sound of rain on window pane and distance rumble of thunder. ‘It’s the heart afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance;

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It’s the dream afraid of waking, that never takes the chance; It’s the one who wont be taken, that cannot seem to give; And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.’ Carl gives Cathy’s hand a squeeze and pecks her on the cheek. Cathy accepts Carl’s offer to come in for coffee. They sit in the living room on the black leather sofa. Sky News is on the tv with the volume turned low. Carl stubs out a cigarette. Cathy doesn’t smoke and he knows she disapproves of the habit. ‘You would be better off doing yoga like I do.’ She says, not for the first time. ‘Its hardly the same is it.' ‘No its not. Can I see if there is a book I want to borrow?’ Indicating the six foot by eight foot bookcase along one wall. ‘Go ahead.' He decides to roll one up, using a cigarette and three papers from the small mahogany box inlaid with ivory; his dope box, a gift from a friend. ‘What time are you leaving on Monday?’ He enquirers ‘June will come down Sunday night and we set off about ten to check in sometime after twelve. Four wonderful days of yoga, meditation, country walks and vegetarian food. 'All these books are rather heavy. What's this book. ‘Blow’, about?’ ‘How to be a millionaire.' What about ‘Chicken soup for the soul?’ ‘Oh, inspirational writings. I don’t have any Barbara Cartland books I'm afraid.' ‘I’ll take the 'chicken soup' then. Doubt if I will have much time for reading.' ‘Not going to take anything on accountancy then?’ ‘Ha ha. What is that smell? Are you on fire?’ ‘My herbal tobacco.’ ‘I think its time for me to go then.' ‘Don’t be silly. Fix me another coffee will you. You will have to use instant.' He takes some hard drags on the cigarette and fleetingly feels light-headed and slightly nauseous. ‘Music. Lets have some music on.’ Cathy is in the kitchen at the back of the house so cannot hear him. He kneels before a rack of cds pulling out ones at random. ‘Rock Classic, I think not. Not in a Bob Dylan mood. Moody Blues, yes, no. Tubular Bells. Haven't heard that for ages.’ ‘Talking to yourself again.' Cathy has re-entered bearing a coffee mug.' They are both seated on the sofa again. Carl is wearing his grey slacks and white shirt from the evenings previous engagement and Cathy is wearing a yellowy green top that emphasises her breasts on the one hand but shows she is not well endowed on the other. She is comfortable with her body as is Carl. Carl is leaning backwards with his eyes closed with his hands on the top of his head listening to the quiet intro feeling relaxed. Cathy is curled up close by restfully alert, waiting perhaps. Several minutes pass. Carl rests his hands in his lap. Cathy shuffles a little. Eight minutes into the track Carl stirs stretches his arms into the air turns to Cathy turns her face towards him and kisses her. She unwinds herself so she is sitting turned towards him. They kiss long and hard, soft and slow.

Eleven minutes into the piece his left hand is fondling her right breast, then her left. At thirteen minutes he is helping her out of her top and unclipping her bra. Sucking and nibbling her nipples and fondling. At fifteen his hand his rubbing her tummy. Cathy is in deep pleasure. At the start of the seventeenth minute he pulls her skirt up and his hand is rubbing her inner thigh. He is kissing and nibbling her neck. Several fingers he inserts into her vagina. She moans with pleasure. On the twenty first minute he pulls away from her and says. ‘I want you to suck me off. I want to come in your mouth.' He leans back and unzips his trousers. ‘Now.' She leans over and takes his cock in her left hand and takes him in the mouth and gets sucking. Carl knows she has had little experience of this side of things as she has never swallowed before. One small step for this woman. As the music gets brighter and faster her hand and mouth become firmer and as the music stops he explodes in her mouth and as she involuntarily pulls back slightly though he firmly but gently grasps her head to hold her in place. He thrusts several times then lifts her head up and kisses her on the forehead, both cheeks and on the mouth. ‘That was fantastic.’ He says. She sits back on the sofa slightly shame-faced as well as exhilarated. She takes a tissue from her shoulder bag, spits into it and wipes her mouth. Then wipes the end of his cock. ‘Careful its sensitive.' ‘I’m twenty four years old and I have never done that before.’ She says coyly. ‘Now you know what you’ve been missing. Yes?' She kisses him. ‘Yes.’ She agrees. ‘Reserved only for your best clients.’ He jokes. She thumps him on the leg. 4.00pm Sunday and Carl is entering the kitchen from the back garden where he has been sitting in a deckchair sunning himself to get a cold drink when the cordless on top of the fridge rings. He picks it up and engages. ‘Hello.' ‘You’ve haven’t called me so I thought I’d give you a ring.' A female voice he recognises but cannot place. ‘Don’t you want to see me again?' ‘Is that you Vanessa?' ‘Am I too much of a woman for you?’ ‘I’ve been busy. So how are you?’ ‘I’m lonely, horny and a bit pissed. Why don’t you come round and keep me company?’ His head tells him to decline but his cock is telling him otherwise. ‘I’ll be round in an hour.' He sits through an hour’s monolog about what a shit her now ex husband is and how her grown up son and daughter don’t care about her which is the reason why she got into such a state that she has been attending AA meetings off and on for the last 3 years before she lightens up. He opens the bottle of vodka and pours her a large one with little

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orange juice and himself a small one with lots of orange juice. He is already high and a little alcohol will give him the edge he wants for what he hopes is on the menu. Its his day off. She is in jeans and t-shirt today and Carl appreciates she is a fine looking mature woman though the alcohol will take their toll over the next few years if she doesn’t quit. They are sitting side by side a foot or so between them. ‘Are you going to fuck me or just look at me?' ‘It would help if you took those jeans off.’ He says unfazed. ‘I’ll change into something more comfortable.’ She says and after several attempts manages to rise from the sofa and leaves the room. Carl realises that there is no need for him to be so over dressed so strips down to his boxers and t-shirt. All in white. He is totally gobsmacked five minutes later when Vanessa returns to the room wearing a red leather bodice that leaves her magnificent breasts bare and black nylon stockings. ‘How do I look?' She turns round slowly several times so he can admire the back view as well. ‘Wow. Fantastic.' ‘And the crotch has a zip for easy access.' ‘Lets get on your bed then.' Carl’s shorts are getting crowded. ‘Pour me another drink first.’ She commands. ‘Yes madam.’ He replies. Carl does most of the work but he doesn’t mind. After the customary kissing and titting he unzips the flap and licks out her cunt, then he is rubbing his cock between her tits, thrusting in her mouth before shooting his load in her cunt. Several vodkas more and he is laying on his back with her riding his cock and shouting. ‘Fuck me, fuck me.' By half past ten she is unconscious and Carl is feeling a little disgusted with himself, worn out and in need of some fresh air so he gets dressed and leaves. Chapter 4: ‘So how are things with you Clive? You seem brighter today. What Is going on with you?’ Clive has a morning appointment as his shift doesn’t start till one this week. He is wearing dark grey trousers, a white shirt and tie. Carl is wearing khaki trousers, dessert boots and a purple t-shirt bearing the Southern Comfort logo. Carl has always felt that he was born too late. Out of time. He identifies with the mood, music, culture of the 60’s more than this present day throw-away consumer society. His mother got it right in some ways through an accident of birth, but the rest of it was all her. Clive doesn’t answer as if choosing his words carefully. Carl thinks that Clive thinks that Carl reports back to Clive’s mother on everything that is said in session which of course he doesn’t. However she does give Clive the money for therapy as she believes that her darling son has been led astray and with a little therapy and a lot of restraint he can be steered towards a heterosexual relationship. And why not? Carl does keep her informed of developments in a non-specific way by way of a brief monthly report.

‘Do you like working in a big office?’ ‘Yes I do. Its only selling insurance but the floors are open plan and you meet a lot of people.’ ‘Co-workers.' ‘Yes. I have been moved on to a new team but still dealing with claims coming in.' ‘That’s interesting. Are there any of your co-workers you get on with especially well? ‘There’s Tim I like. There’s Sue. She funny. Her desk is covered with little teddy bears. She’s a fan of Buffy as well.’ ‘How old is she Clive, do you know? ‘I think she is nineteen, one year older than me. A whole load of us are going to the pub one night for a quiz and she said she is going so I will go as well.’ ‘That’s a great idea. Now I want to put you into a light trance as we have done before and we will talk about some of your childhood experiences. Take a few deep breaths and in your own time close your eyes and relaxxxxx.’ Not for the first time Carl has takes Clive on a trip down memory lane, along the highways and byways of the subconscious looking for the gravestones of buried and repressed traumatic experiences but really there is nothing there. The mindscape of Clive is pretty empty of anything but the presence of his omnipotent and omnipresent mother superimposed over normal memories albeit minus the father or father figure. A dominating mother has turned off Clive’s normal libido leaving him in a sexual limbo. The poor lad has never had a sexual relationship with either male or female unless a few cottaging experiences count as relationships. ‘Now Clive you are gliding along that stretch of river where you last encountered Caroline. You feel quite excited hoping that she will be there again so you sit up to have a look and you are pleased to see someone, a girl, sitting on a blanket. It is she. The boat comes gently to a stop with a little bump and you climb out and approach Caroline who has her knees up and is reading a magazine. She puts down the magazine and smiles to see you. You see she is naked and realise that you are naked as well. You sit down next to her. You two talk together for a few minutes, she asking you about your job. She is very interested to know everything about you but that can wait till another time. You kiss her and touch her and then lay down together. You have an erection which she notices and she says ‘Is that for me.‘ And you reply that you want to make love to her and she says ‘That would be wonderful’. You manoeuvre yourself between her legs which she opens and you kiss her there, taste and smell her sex. Caroline is moaning with pleasure and you feel a great desire to have sex with her. ‘Put your cock in me and make love to me’ she says with urgency. You push your penis into her and enter. She is wet and you slide into her easily. It is a wonderful sensation. You move rhythmically inside her and her moans of pleasure become louder. ‘I love you Clive’ she says and wraps her legs around you giving you more depth to your penetrations. ‘You are such a great lover’ she says urging you on. ‘Faster, faster, oh god, my darling, my darling, I’m coming, my god I’m coming’. You are very excited now and have reached the point on no return and you too are on the point of climaxing. You to are coming and having a mind-blowing orgasm. ‘Oh Clive that was wonderful’ she says. ‘We must do this again sometime’…….. A few minutes later you are laying in each others a satiated and content,

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She is looking at you with adoring eyes. Unfortunately its now time to leave Clive, to climb back into the boat and flow further along the river…………………. ‘Did you have a problem visualising the scene with the girl? Did you have any emotions about your interaction?’ ‘It’s like watching a film and you are the director and I am the star. The girl looked a bit like Reese Witherspoon. I felt excited like it was me screwing her.’ ‘Mmm. I’m sure one day you will be having sex with a nice girl if that’s what you want. An American actress is a good start. Everyone feels nervous when they do it the first time because no matter what people say and what you read or see on tv you don’t know what its like till you actually do it. After that its practice, practice, practice. ‘These sessions are really good for my self-confidence.’ Clive smiles. ‘Get yourself some girlie magazines and masturbate Clive. Stimulate the mind. The mind effects the body and vice versa vis-à-vis getting a hard-on. Its ok to do that. But remember girls are people just like you. They have feelings and needs as well. Its not all about what you want. Respect. See you next week.’ Carl in enjoying a quiet shop-bought chicken Caesar salad lunch on a bench on the cliff top overlooking the Bay on this occasionally sunny day when his mobile goes off. ‘Hello. Yes this is Mr Langdon. How can I help you? I see. Yes I know Rose Carpenter. I see. Yes of course. Can I come anytime? Just report to the nurses station. Ok. Thank you for ringing.’ The Royal Bournemouth Hospital is a ten minutes drive a way then another ten minutes driving round the car park looking for an empty parking space. Built in the early nineties it sprawls out across a previously undeveloped area, large and impressive with its blue tiled roofs. He enters reception and follows the signs toward 13, where Rose is in temporary residence, wearing black trousers, a black blazer and white shirt. He is on business today. He enters the ward and announces his presence at the nurses station. ‘Hullo. My name is Carl Langdon and I have come to visit Rose Carpenter.’ The nurse who is writing at the desk looks up at him and asks ‘Are you a relative or friend.’ Just a formality. She is quite an attractive girl, brunette, busty with a mild brummie accent. ‘She has requested I come and give her healing. I believe she is very ill.’ Though not a frequent visitor he is no stranger to hospitals. In fact he quite likes them. There is something appealing about visiting a large institution, a beehive of activity; observing, absorbing and then with some pleasure and regret leaving. ‘You must be the faith healer?’ Her expression shows doubt and a little amusement. ‘I am not a priest of any religion so faith is not an issue here. I hope I can bring her some spiritual and emotional comfort in her hour of need. May I see her now?‘ Carl is not in a bantering mood nor of a mind to defend , explain or convert. ‘She’s in the bed on the left. You can pull the screen around if you wish.’ She smiles an enigmatic smile. ‘Thank you.’ Rose appears to be sleeping. She looks older than the last time he saw her a month or so

ago. Withered and dried up. A soul within a husk waiting, even eager to depart. Carl pulls the screen around the bed and pulls up a chair and sits beside Rose. He lifts her left hand off the bed cover and holds it in both hands and closes his eyes, takes several deep breaths and focuses on his breathing. He inhales and counts one to himself as he exhales. Inhale, exhale, two. Inhale, exhale, three. He counts to ten. For the next five minutes he visualises a beam of shimmering white light descending from above and entering his body through the top of his head, the light filling his whole body, suffusing every pore and cell of his being. Carl is not here to heal her physical body as they both know her time is at hand. Rose is a spiritualist and believes in a life after the death of the physical body. Her soul will depart this earth plane and be guided into the Light and Beyond to other planes of existence. All the same confronting death is a scary experience. Carl hopes to bring a peace and tranquillity to the non-material aspects of her being to make the transition easier. Then in his mind he directs this white light from his hands into Rose’s hand seeing in his minds eye the light filling her whole being. After several minutes Rose stirs and opens her eyes. ‘Carl. I’m so glad you have come.‘ She speaks in a surprisingly strong voice and smiles a radiant smile. ‘You knew I would.’ He says, warmly. ‘Yes I knew.’ She affirms. ‘Have you been here long?’ She asks squeezing his hands feebly. ‘A couple of minutes that’s all.’ ‘Its so good of you to come. Will you give me healing now? I feel tired.’ ‘Of course.’ Rose closes her eyes and soon is asleep gently breathing. Carl has attended meetings at spiritualist churches on a few occasions as he likes the talks, the expounding of their philosophy but has never had much time for mediums personally; those channels of communication between the living and the spirit world. On the odd occasion that there has been a message for him it has inevitably been a message from his mother which has not sat comfortably with him. As she had meagre guidance for him when she was alive he doubted she would be a fountain of knowledge and wisdom now dead. He wishes to keep his psyche a mother-free zone as much is possible. Carl sits by her side for a further twenty minutes before he leaves. She doesn’t wake. Out in the corridor again he almost collides with the nurse from earlier carrying a bedpan. ‘How did it go?’ She asks superciliously. ‘Fine. She’s sleeping now. How long has she got do you think?’ ‘Well. She is very weak. She might make it through the night.’ ‘It’s her time I guess. I am sure the hospital staff are doing all they can to make her as comfortable as possible.’ ‘We are doing all we can. Do you get paid for what you do?’ ‘Not for hospital visits.’ ‘You’re a philanthropist.’ ‘A psychotherapist actually. I’ll give you my card. If anyone else in the future wishes me

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to visit. Perhaps you yourself might like some healing sometime.’ ‘I’m not ill.’ She responds defensively. ‘We all have needs.’ He says and slips a card from his wallet into the pencil pocket of her tunic. ‘Perhaps you can ring me if Mrs Carpenter expires during the night. I would appreciate it. Auf weidersehen.’ He departs. He pulls up on the opposite side of the road from ‘Vanessa’s Flowers’ easing into a parking space. He can see her moving around in the shop getting ready to close up. His jacket is on the back seat, his sleeves are rolled up and he feels in need of some distraction. She is wearing a brightly coloured diamond patterned apron over a white tshirt and midi denim skirt. She is alone in the shop. Sweeping the floor. ‘Ok.’ He thinks. He gets out of the Astra, locks it and crosses the road and approaches the shop door which is open. ‘Hi there. Have you come to buy flowers?’ She smiles a welcoming smile. ‘No I’ve come to take you for a drink.’ He thinks of kissing her but decides against it. ‘Well that’s nice. I was just going to finish off here and go upstairs and fix something to eat’. ‘We can go to a pub and get something to eat there.’ ‘Alright. Five minutes.’ Carl drives along Castle Lane, past the hospital he was so recently visiting Rose in and up past the new shopping centre. Kinson, turn right at the Bear Cross roundabout, over the bridge at Longham, turns left at the next roundabout making his way to the Fox and Hounds pub. Coming up the drive there are swings and climbing frames for the kiddies and numerous tables and benches for those patriots wishing to enjoy their refreshments in the late afternoon sun or to keep a watchful eye on the little ones. They park up and enter the premises. The bar is busy as is the eating area but after a few minutes Carl manages to sidle up to the bar and orders two halves of Stella. They stand around chit-chatting for several minutes then spot a family getting up from a table and quickly commandeer it. One of the food staff is passing and clears away the debris. ‘Have you had a productive day?’ Carl enquires. He sips at his lager. ‘Not too bad. I had an order in for several bouquets and I had to make four deliveries.’ She drowns the remaining third of her drink. ‘I’ll probably want a display of flowers for the latter part of this week. Can you fill an order in a short time?’ ‘Sure. What is the occasion?’ ‘It will be for a funeral’. ‘Will you want it delivered to the chapel?’ ‘I will let you know. Another?’ Asks Carl. His glass is half full. ‘Yes please. A rum and coke would be nice. And could you get me some Silk Cut whilst you are up. You might have to get change for the machine.’ ‘I’ll get you a double.’ He says and rises. They both order chicken in a white wine sauce, duchesse potato and green beans. ‘I was faithful to my husband all the time we were married but the bastard was cheating on me and me like a fool never suspected right to the end. What a bloody fool I was. There I was in hospital having a hysterectomy and he was out shagging his secretary.

The bastard. Anyway I’m better off without him. He only had a small dick and was a lousy screw anyway.‘ She leans conspiratorially forward across the table and grasping Carl’s hand whispers. ‘And he never licked me out like you do darling. I’ve had the best sex I’ve ever had since we split up. And you are pretty good.‘ She gives a drunken smile that seems more like a leer to Carl. ‘Oh well. One more drink and back to her place.’ ‘Shall we have one more drink and go back to my place and play with my toys.’ She says finishing her fourth rum and coke. Carl however is relatively sober not only because he is driving but he is more into mindful fucking than mindless fucking. ‘And we can pick up a bottle on the way home.’ She adds. They are sitting on the sofa together with the tv on, a ‘A Touch of Frost’ repeat, with the sound down low and a lamp on in the corner. There is a bottle of rum, a large bottle of cola, a half filled ashtray, 2 packs of cigarettes and a lighter on the coffee table. Carls stubs out his cigarette, pulls her to him, turns her head to face him and kisses her. After thirty seconds or so she pulls away and says. ‘Let me put my drink down. Its warm isn’t it. ’ ‘Take your cardigan off you must be stifling in that.’ She slips it off. ‘Where were.’ He says and kisses her again. Her tongue slips into his mouth and he kisses more fervently, his hand fondles her breasts within the t-shirt but cannot get a proper feel because of her bra. ‘Take your top off and bra off.’ She does as she is asked. ‘Do you like my tits? You don’t think they are too big do you?’ ‘You have great tits. A nice handful.’ Carl fondles her left breast then tweaks the nipple. She gives a little shudder. Her tits and particularly her nipples are a hot line to her cunt. He takes the nipple of her right breast in his mouth whilst fondling the left. Vanessa lets out little moans of pleasure. The kissing and fondling continue for five minutes and now Carl has a full hard-on and when his hand wanders down to her partially denimed covered knee they both know that to go any farther means her getting out of her skirt and if that is the case they might as well get comfortable on the bed. ‘Lets take our drinks and fags into the bedroom.’ She suggests and Carl does not object. They go into the bedroom which is very feminine; pink and frills a teddy bear here and there. Vanessa is soon out of her skirt and knickers, replenishing her glass and lighting up again whilst Carl is removing his clothes. Whilst she puffs on her cigarette Carl fondlers her tits and nuzzles her neck and sticks his tongue in her ear. ‘I want to come in your mouth.’ H says in his best sexy voice. ‘I want you to lick me out.’ She counters. She has quite a hairy bush which is a turn on. He slides down the bed and between her open legs. He pulls her open with a finger from both hands and proceeds to lick her labia minora, probing as far as his tongue will go into her vagina then the dedicated licking of her clit. ‘Do you like my cunt?’ She asks. Carl mumbles something. ‘What?’ ‘You have a very pretty cunt. Very lickable.’ He compliments her.

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‘I cant talk and lick.’ He complains. ‘Carry on licking.’ She says. Which he does. Enthusiastically. Sometime later Carl comes up for air. ‘I need a drink and a fag. Lets have a break.' ‘I was on the brink of an orgasm then.’ ‘You can have one in a minute. Two if you’re quick.' Carl replenishes his drink and lights up a smoke. Vanessa gets up and goes to her dressing table. opens a draw and returns to the bed with a large flesh-coloured dildo. ‘You are not putting that up me.’ Reacts Carl at the sight feigning shock-horror. ‘Its for me lover boy. One of my toys.' ‘You have others do you?’ ‘We can play with them another time if you’re a good boy.' ‘I cant wait.’ Ten minutes later Vanessa is swept up by her first orgasm of the evening. Carl is leaking a little but has yet to ejaculate. She is still on her back with one knee bent resting on the bed whilst the other is at a ninety degree angle her knee in the air and foot on the bed. Carl is kneeling beside her midway between hip and shoulder. He is pushing the dildo in and out of her cunt building up the pressure whilst with his other hand he is fondling a tit, first one then the other. Vanessa is all concentration climbing to the peak. Carl thrusts harder and faster with the dildo. Carl reaches over for a pillow that Vanessa is not using and tells her to lift her head and puts the pillow under her head thus raising it. Then whilst continuing to dildo-fuck her he puts his left hand behind her head and pulls her face towards his cock but she inclines her head a little and starts to tongue his sweaty bollocks and breath in the essence of him. She opens her mouth to accommodate him and it feels so good. He sets up a steady thrusting rhythm unconsciously in time to his dildo thrustings. Vanessa’s hands are fondling her tits hard her pelvis responding to each thrust of the dildo. Carl thrusts harder and faster and she moans with pleasure around his cock as her climax builds in momentum, then sweeps over her, then a few seconds later Carl is pumping his spunk into her mouth which she swallows eagerly. Things wind down and stop. He removes his cock from her mouth and the dildo from her cunt. ‘That killed off a few more of my brain cells.’ She acknowledges. ‘That was fun.’ He says. Drinks are poured and drunk and cigarettes are smoked. ‘Ah look at your little thing.’ She refers to his cock in a state of detumescence. ‘Its usually like this when it is off duty.' ‘When will it be on duty again?' Taking his prick in her fingers. ‘If you were to suck on it awhile that would do the job.' Five minutes of oral ministrations and Carl’s prick is serviceable again but he needs an edge. ‘Pull your arse around this way so I can finger your fanny.’ He instructs. ‘That’s nice. Mmmm. Mind the teeth. Now sit on it. That’s great.' Carl is laid out flat with Vanessa straddling him. ‘She looks good on the end of my cock.’ He thinks.

‘Come on baby ride me.’ He calls out. Moving up and down on his cock she is soon turned on. Her ‘ahs’ coming thick and fast, rivulets of sweat running down her tits, pooling at the nipples then falling onto his chest and stomach. She fondles her tits hard and throws back her head and pushes down firmly and up and his cock nearly slips out but her wet and commodious cunt holds him in, just. ‘Careful. Don’t bend it.’ Cautions Carl to no avail as Vanessa is caught up in a whirlwind of her own senses, her passion and power, thrashing and crying out like a banshee. Sex can be a dangerous activity. Somewhere in this maelstrom Carl shoots his load but he has no idea where Vanessa is at. He bides his time for a few minutes gazing up at the ceiling then sits up and rolls her off him onto her back and shoves his cock back inside her. Gradually she calms down. He withdraws and reaches for a ciggie. ‘I’ll have one. That was amazing. I had multiple orgasms. It was like I was possessed.’ ‘Nothing to do with me dear it must be the booze.' She kisses him briefly. ‘Well I think you had a hand, tongue and cock in it’ she smiles ‘I guess I did’ admits Carl modestly. Round about six Carl wakes up to find Vanessa half laying on him an arm across his chest. He releases himself from her hold and she stirs. ‘Are you going’ she asks sleepily. ‘Yeah I feel like shit and need to get home and freshen up’. ‘Ah come on fuck me before you go.’ She pleads half-heartedly. ‘Ok. But no kissing’. Carl arrives at home feeling wired up so he goes into the living room opens the dope box and rolls himself a chemically enhanced herbal cigarette to relax himself. It has the opposite effect. Upstairs he strips off in the bedroom and whilst the bath water is running in the bathroom checks the ansaphone in the bedroom. ‘You have five messages.’ He is interested to learn. The first two are from prospective clients wanting to make appointments, one is from Mrs Morales wanting her appointment brought forward to ten o clock Wednesday, one is static and the fifth is from ‘Hullo. Mr Langdon. This is Nurse Baintree. I sorry to have to inform you that Mrs Carpenter passed away in the night. You said you wanted to know if anything happened. Um. If you want to talk to me about Mrs Carpenter or just wanted to chat you can ring me on 875223. Best time is in the afternoon as I am working nights this week. Ask for Ann. Byee’. ‘I might just do that.’ Muses Carl. ‘Oops the bath water. Rose knew her time had come. I hope she is not disappointed.' He pops down stairs, turns on the tv, selects a classic rock station, turns on the stereo and catches the end of a Bob Seeger number. ‘Oh yeah, those Hollywood nights.’ He sings going up stairs again. Soaping himself in the bath he hears the strident guitar of Neil Young and the refrain ‘you are like a hurricane, there’s harm in your eyes’ and he dedicates that one to

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Vanessa. Chapter 5: A glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, a bowl of cornflakes and a cup of coffee and he is just about ready for his day. He jogs down towards the cliff top via Shelley Park, down the long and winding path to the prom, turns right at the bottom and jogs down to Boscombe Pier. A few people about but no one he knows. Pops into the loo at the pier then its back along the prom but continues further than where he came down going all the way along to Fisherman's Walk zigzag, up to the cliff top, a rush through the gardens then along Southbourne Road to the station then left and right and home. Sweating profusely he strips out of his t-shirt and shorts and grabs a shower. Its is just gone half past nine on this fairly bright morning. The phone rings. ‘Hullo.' ‘Hullo darling. Hope I didn’t wake you.' ‘No I haven't been to bed. I dozed off for a few hours with you so I’m ok.' ‘I just thought I would ring to thank you for such an enjoyable evening. And night.’ ‘I enjoyed it as well.' ‘I hope to see you again soon.' ‘You will. Oh yes I would like a floral display for a funeral for probably the latter part of this week if you can manage it. A bouquet you know. With a few sprigs of rosemary included. Think about it. Alright.' ‘I’ll let you know.’ ‘Goodbye.’ Carl meditates for ten minutes counting the breaths, dresses casually and leaves the house. He jumps in the Astra and wends his way across town to the West Cliff area to a pleasant select area that attracts many retired people. The properties are a mix of two or three storied apartment blocks and large houses whose days are numbered. Trees line the pavements, the grounds are well-tended. The pedestrians are slow, the cars are new and the ubiquitous squirrels are laid-back. Five minutes walk away is a main road and all expected shopping facilities. A nice place to wait to die, a modern purgatory with all mod-cons. Carl turns into the drive of ‘Appledews’ apartment block and parks at the rear, gets out approaches the entrance and intercom. He presses No. 6 and waits for thirty seconds before he is buzzed in. Up two flights of stairs and a short walk along a short corridor and he is knocking on the door. The door is opened by a tall thin man with a longish face that reminds Carl, not unkindly, of the Easter Island figure-heads. He has a decent head of hair, black with a sprinkling of grey, parted to the right, on the cusp of a re-dye. The small vanity of a seventy three year old. He is wearing a dark maroon v-neck jumper over a white shirt, grey slacks and dark brown leather jacket with brown shoes. Impeccably dressed as usual. ‘Carl dear boy. What a surprise. I was just on my way out but do come in.' Carl steps over the threshold puzzled and a little concerned. ‘Have you forgotten Stewart?' Stewart smiles a bright smile.' ‘Of course not I am just kidding you. Where’s my walking stick?’ ‘Right. I need to stop for petrol.'

Stewart is a well-known and respected healer, now retired, who has met and worked with Harry Edwards, Britain’s foremost spiritual healer until his death, some would say still is, in 1976. It starts to rain just as they are passing ‘the Charlton Inn.' ‘All the old dears still turning up to do their healing with their shaky arthritic fingers?’ queries Stewart acidly. ‘No, I got rid of them all.’ Says Carl. ‘You’re a heartless bastard you know. Which very few people know.’ Kids Stewart. ‘No of course they are all in situ. Where would they go otherwise. The group is still safe in my hands. As you know. I'm sure your spies report back to you.’ ‘I hear things its true.’ Its still raining as they pass through Winterborne. ‘Is Brigette still the belle of the ball . . . . . . second turning on the right’. ‘Right here we go. There’s the sign. Milton Abbas.' ‘Did I tell you I had an affair with the now Mrs Seldon twenty years ago?’ ‘I believe you did. "A cunt as sweet and succulent as a punnet of freshly picked strawberries dowsed in double cream" is how you put it.’ ‘Such memories.’ Savours Stewart. ‘You’re an old lecher.' ‘Maybe but the healing room was sacrosanct.' ‘Rose Carpenter died a few days ago in hospital. You knew her didn’t you?’ ‘Of course. Rose. She was a regular at my healing and meditation groups many years ago. Too keen on spiritualism for my liking but a good old soul.’ ‘I have been giving her healing the past few months.’ ‘You haven’t mentioned it before.' ‘I believe she mentions me in her will.' ‘You want more than a mention.' ‘Do you want to attend. Shall I pick you up pick?’ ‘Why not.’ ‘Abbey here we come.’ Says Carl. They drive through the quaint and picturesque village of Milton Abbas itself with its whitewashed thatched cottages with lawns and get on the narrow winding road that descends to the Abbey. Carl drives into the grounds and parks in the staff section. ‘Can you walk this far? About a twenty metres, maybe less. We will take it easy.' Stewart limps along with his walking stick. It is quiet; the scholars are still on their summer break. They enter the church and are surprised to see a lady sitting at a table to the right as if to collect an entrance fee. ‘Since when do we have to pay to come into a church of England?’ Queries Stewart a little flustered. ‘Oh there is no entrance fee.’ Protests the good lady. ‘Just make a donation when you leave.' They proceed along the north transept and pause at the lovely white marble monument depicting Lord Milton and wife laying on a sofa, her dead and he in mourning. ‘Lets sit in quiet meditation for a few minutes.’ Suggests Stewart and sits down awkwardly as his left leg is stiff on a pew. Carl does likewise. The church is still and

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quiet, the air as if purified. A good space for healing. Ten minutes pass in which Carl goes through a chakra cleaning exercise in his mind whilst Stewart falls asleep. ‘I get so tired these days.’ Stewart remarks. ‘Lets go into the village and have a drink. Lunch is on me.' ‘If you’ve had enough.' Carl puts a pound in the donations tin. They park on the forecourt of the Hambro Arms and go into the restaurant which is not too busy as opposed to the bars which are. They get seated by the window in this charming place with its beamed ceiling and brick interior walls. Lamps on the walls are on because of the dullness of the day outside but it is cheery within. Browsing the menu Carl says ‘I’ll have a glass of white wine I think to start the proceedings.' ‘Good idea. Are you having a starter? I will have the chef’s own country pâté with salad garni and toast. And you Carl?’ ‘I’ll try the deep fried brie wedges with seasonal leaves and a port and raspberry dressing.’ Announces Carl. ‘An excellent choice. Oh yes. A bottle of the Villa Antinori Bianco please my dear.’ Requests Stewart from the smart looking waitress. 'And this and this one here for starters.’ Indicating the items on the menu. ‘Fresh and floral and easy on the palate.’ Comments Stewart. ‘Just like me. So how’s the angina?’ enquires Carl ‘I take the warfarin and feel much less discomfort. But lets not talk about my health. How are you these days?’ ‘Here comes the wine.' A glass of wine and the starters arrive. ‘I’ll have the sirloin steak, and you?’ ‘The scampi.' ‘I’m going through a transitory period of change at the moment; excited, restless and focussed, intent on following a path wherever it goes.’ Ruminates Carl. ‘Life is a process of re-programming. But on the other hand, was it not the 4th Patriarch Tao-shin who said and I quote ‘There is nothing lacking in you and you yourself are no different from the Buddha. There is no other way of achieving Buddha hood than letting your mind free to be itself.’ States Stewart. ’I'm not looking for Buddha hood.' Rebuts Carl. ‘The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials, said Confucius on Chinese national tv.' ‘I don’t want to be perfect. More wine? ‘All men wait. They live within the illusion that somewhere in the future exists a sort of white-hot crucible of experience. They believe that in the crucible, located in the space and time of their lives, they will live with an intensity so great that they will be oblivious to everything except one idea. They are wrong. Man needs to become more conscious and intensity implies less.’ ‘Well I’m in the crucible now.’ Admits Carl whimsically.

‘Here comes the main course.’ As the waitress approaches their table. ‘One final thought.’ Says Stewart when the waitress departs. ‘Being a novice advanced spiritual being as you undoubtedly are, does create problems. People may well tend to become dependent on you, have expectations of you and this is open to abuse on your part. Bon appetit.’ ‘Goede Eetlust.’ The food is excellent and both are replete with plenty left on their plates. ‘Let me settle up and then we can make our way back. A little shopping at Waitrose then you can pop in for a cup of coffee before you go. ‘So Jean. What kind of week have you had?’ Silence. Mrs Morales has a slightly smug expression on her face. Carl thinks about her problems, particularly about the ones they haven’t talked about, like her sex life. A quote from the writings of Reich come to mind. ‘Psychic health depends on orgasmic potency, ie upon the degree to which one can surrender to and experience the climax of excitation in the natural sexual act.’ ‘I’ve left him.‘ A bald statement. ‘Pardon. You’ve left your husband?’ Flabbergasted. ‘I tried to talk to him but he just wouldn’t listen. But I told him that it was all his fault, my problems, he is to blame because he is always at work, or sleeping during the day. No wonder I am ill. It’s the worry and the frustration. I cannot remember the last time we made love. Probably last Christmas’. She let it out with a few tears. Carl pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. ‘What happened last Christmas.’ He wonders. ‘I see. So where are you now? Where are you staying?’ Carl is concerned. ‘I’m staying with my sister and her husband over Creekmoor. I am not going back to that bastard. I’ve put up with him all these years but no more. I want to have a life again not be a drudge.’ ‘How has your husband reacted to all this? Your bid for independence?’ ‘He thinks I am just having a mid-life crisis and need to go on HRT. He doesn’t realise I am serious. You have given me the confidence to face my problems and sort my life out. Of course he blames you for filling my head with ideas. That’s how he put it.’ ‘Um. I don’t think we ever talked about or it was even suggested that you had marital problems Mrs Morales or that you should leave him. From a therapeutic standpoint we’ve jumped about 2 months of sessions. However you obviously have given this much thought and consideration.’ ‘I really only came today just to thank you in person rather than on the phone. I feel so much better now I’ve made a decisive move. And its all thanks to you.’ ‘You have arrived at a life-changing point in your life it seems on your own so I wish you well. You know the number if you want a future appointment.‘ They stand and he shows her to the door where they shake hands. She is all smiles, relaxed and purposeful. ‘I hope it lasts.’ Is Carl’s last thought on this session. Carl pops out to get a paper. Strolling along the pavement in Pokesdown, stopping to look into the occasional antiques shop though he is not really into collecting old things.

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However its an interesting part of town. One of the few objects retained from his Mother’s eclectic collection of junk is a small brass statue of the God Krishna playing his flute which apparently was brought back from India by a relative sometime near the end of the nineteenth century. He pops into a newsagents and buys the early edition of the Evening Echo and stops at the ‘Coffee Scene Cafe’ and orders a double Caffè Latte in a mug and an ashtray ‘por favore’. He scans through the paper; domestic violence, another drug smuggler apprehended by customs officers, illegal immigrants spotted getting out of a lorry outside ToysRUs. In the ‘family announcements’ page he scans the column inches looking for Rose Carpenter. ‘Ah ha. 2.00pm Friday at the Crematorium. Gurney Funeral Directors. I wonder why she isn’t having a spiritualist service. I don’t think she has any family left so who is organising things?’ Carl decides to continue along the High Street and see if Vanessa is in her shop so he can give her funeral details and place his order. It only takes him a couple of minutes to reach her establishment. He walks straight in the open door and at first thinks the shop is empty but then Vanessa rises up from the back where she has a little office with a cup in one hand. She takes a sip from the cup and places it down and comes out from behind. ‘This is a nice surprise. I don’t see you in the daytime, oh you creature of the night.’ ‘Well we do both work during the day you know. Anyway this is not a social call. I am here on business, one business to another as it were. Verstehen Sie meinen Liebling? ‘You speak German. A man of many talents.’ She looks at him appraisingly ‘A man of many disguises perhaps.’ ‘So what can I do for you sir?’ Carl takes stock of his surroundings. Flowers in profusion naturally, baskets, bibs and bobs of the trade. ‘It is for a funeral, a cremation at the crematorium on Friday. Have you a catalogue I could look at?’ ‘Here we are. You could have a traditional wreath, a spray, a basket, or a sheaf for example.’ ‘Maybe a spray.’ ‘Gerbera, chamrock blooms, carnations and roses are very nice. Very popular. And I have them in stock.’ ‘That would be nice. With several sprays of rosemary I think.’ ‘I can do that. £30 that will cost.’ ‘Ok. Rose Carpenter. Here are the details.’ He hands her the paper. ‘That didn’t take long.’ ‘So lets go out tonight.’ ‘Ok.’ ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’ Carl gives her a brief kiss on the lips. ‘Are you going to pay now?’ Carl extracts his wallet from his back pocket and extricates three ten pound notes. ‘See you later.’ The ‘Jazz Club’ is not really a club its more a large bar in the basement of the

Rolling Dunes Hotel on the west side of town, and the music is only loosely jazzy which is fine with the majority of patrons, including Carl who is more of a ‘progressiveclassical rock fan, who wouldn’t know their Mingus from their Jelly Roll Morton. Being such an inclusive establishment the clubbing fraternity exclude themselves hence it is one of the few places where young and middle-aged and upwards can enjoy a drink and entertainment in a reasonably quiet laid back environment in the town centre. Quite a few people in tonight though its still early. ‘There’s a table over there.’ Indicates Carl. ‘I haven’t been here for awhile.’ Says Vanessa. She has dressed down for the night; black trousers, green long-sleeved jumper and dangly ear-rings and just two rings on her fingers. The lighting is a darker shade of low but bright enough to read a book if one is so inclined except for the stage which is positioned against the rear wall. The bar is on the right, the toilets and emergency exit on the left. Jamie Cullum's 'twentysomething' is on in the background. ‘So what will you have to drink?’ Enquires Carl lighting up a cigarette. ‘Brandy and babycham please.' Vanessa lights up. ‘And can you get a clean ashtray whilst your up.' There is some activity on the stage; an electric organ is carried on, a mike stand positioned, speakers connected. ‘You look nice this evening.’ Compliments Carl. ‘Thanks. I dress down and you say I look nice. That must mean you really like me.' ‘Tell me. How long have you had the shop?’ ‘Oh you want to hear my life story do you?’ ‘I would like to know more about you. Who you are.' ‘Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Jazz Club. We start off tonight with that popular trio The Downsiders announces the bar manager in his role as compere. A young man comes on stage with a stool and sits in front of the organ, an older man comes on with a guitar and a short plumpish woman takes up position at the mike. There is a mild round of applause. ‘Good evening. We are the Downsiders and our first number tonight is our interpretation of ‘I put a spell on you.' ‘I left home when I was seventeen. I was a good-looking girl who had some dancing ability so naturally I moved up to London, got myself a place and got a job. This was in nineteen seventy five. I was working in some club and I was spotted by a manager for this dance troupe who wanted to sign me up. I was over the moon. Here I was just seventeen, a virgin who had never even drunk alcohol or been anywhere, I didn’t even have a passport and I was being offered a job travelling Europe in a coach going to places I had only ever read about. My glass is empty again.' The guitarist is doing a little solo number, a few chords and a lot of notes. He can play. The singers voice is not bad either. The bar is busy but there are three staff on so Carl only has a minute wait. ‘A brandy and babycham. Make that two and a double southern comfort with a splash of orange squash with ice.’ ‘So you were off on the grand tour. What next?’ ‘There were the ten of us dancers plus eight musicians, a manager and two assistants.

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We went to Paris, Lisbon, Athens, Ankara, Beirut you name it we went there. Everywhere around the Med. No not Beirut it was cancelled because it was too dangerous. We were like a big happy family and like a big happy family of non-related people there was a lot of sex going on. One girl had to get a flight back to England when she was up the spout. I was more careful. And I was basically a one man girl, mostly anyway. I had a long fling with the saxophone player.' ‘Now please welcome Robin whose is going to read one of his poem accompanied by Justin on the organ.' ‘Very adventurous. I admire your spirit. Were you running away from anything?’ ‘Boredom mainly. Cheers.' ‘Hey how are you?’ Carl looks in the direction of a attractive woman in jeans and leather jerkin wearing a black beret on top of her tucked in blonde hair who is standing close by. She appears to be with a group of friends. ‘Um.' Is all he has to say. ‘Don’t be shy Carl. We all make mistakes. You look well.’ ‘I am well Helen. You look good as always.’ ‘Good enough to eat hey.’ ‘I think your friends are waiting for you. You had better go.’ ‘Yes. Be with some real people. Give my regards to Cathy.’ ‘Fuck off Helen.’ ‘I take it that was Helen. Whose Cathy? Your secret wife?’ Kids Vanessa. ‘A friend. How long did you do this for?’ ‘………………………and were inspired. She gave to all who came to her, upon their knees with a flower, she’d whisper no, they had to go, and they would cower…………..’. Slow and slightly mournful. A lament. ‘Till the fifteenth of March 1979 or more precisely the next day. My favourite song then was ‘I will survive’ by Gloria Gaynor. I hate hearing that song now.' ‘………the bright rosette around her head, it was not dead but only dying. Fingers pale from out of sketch, who wouldn’t fetch? But stand denying. Her ravens croak with silver thread was a trance that………………….. ‘Can you talk about it?’ ‘I can but I’ll need another drink. I am at my best when I'm pissed. Haven’t you noticed?’ ‘Ok.' ‘………….now that day has gone, scattered far flown like the sun and where………….’ ‘Same again mate please.' ‘…………..who wouldn’t change, who played the pipes that…………………………’ ‘Thanks.' ‘It was my birthday on that day and a group of us were out celebrating in Nicosia, pubs, nightclubs. We caught a taxi the four of us to our hotel in the early hours and for some reason my lover Siggy, the sax player, went into an epileptic fit or some kind of convulsion and we crashed. The police report said that Siggy had kicked the taxi driver in the head which is why we came off the road and crashed.’ She downs half her drink and pours the remains of the bottle of babycham into her glass. A tear forms and flows slowly down her cheek. ‘So what did Siggy do?’

‘Siggy died in the crash and I busted my leg up real bad and was unconscious for three days and that was the end of my dancing career.' ‘Shit.' ‘I used to sing as well sometimes, with the band.’ ‘You have a nice fruity voice which I’m sure sounds nice in song.’ ‘I wonder if I’m too pissed to get up and sing. Shall I? Why not!’ Vanessa gets up and approaches the stage reasonably in control of herself and has a word with the organist who is drinking from his pint. Some discussion goes on then Vanessa brushes her hair away from her face and approaches the mike. ‘Hello. I would like to sing a song called ‘that’s no way to say goodbye’ written by Leonard Cohen. If you know it feel free to sing along and if you don’t pretend you do if I forget the lyrics.' The organists start the intro and leads her in. ‘ I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it's come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.’ ‘She sings well.’ Thinks Carl enjoying her enjoying herself up there. A few people join in the second verse and numerous voices are raised on the chorus. She receives prolonged applause. ‘My God I need a drink.’ She says happy and excited. ‘I haven’t been on a stage in years’. ‘I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re a natural.’ Smiles Carl. They are laying on her bed both naked, she on the left, he on the right. A half bottle of vodka, oj and 2 glasses is on the bedside table. A music radio station is on in the background. Carl is sucking the nipple of Vanessa’s left tit whilst his left hand fingers her fanny. ‘Lets play games.’ Say Vanessa. ‘Yeah, like what?’ ‘I like being tied up and blindfolded. Then you can do what you want with me.' ‘That sounds good. What can I use.’ Asks Carl sitting up. ‘In the bottom drawer there’s some scarves you can use.' She swings her legs off the bed and sits on the edge, takes a few sips from the glass and lights a cigarette. Carl finds a couple of coloured scarves and a black one. ‘Voila.’ He flourishing his find. ‘Give me five minutes.’ Says Vanessa looking a little tired. ‘I’ll go in the living room and roll myself a special.’ He sits on the sofa naked, rolls and smokes his cigarette. ‘Maybe I’ll just go home.’ He thinks to himself.' ‘I'm ready.’ Comes Vanessa’s voice from the bedroom and he knows he’s hooked. The selection box is open and the choice is his. ‘Come down to the end of the bed so I can blindfold you.’ Directs Carl. ‘Yes master.’ She says coyly and does as he says.

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‘Put out your wrists. That’s it. One over the over. No that’s no good. Hands behind your back. I’ll tie you to the bedstead late.' ‘Promises, promises.’ ‘That’s not too tight is it? Good. Now for the blindfold.' ‘How's that.’ ‘Blind as a bat.' ‘Open your legs wider.’ He commands. He takes her head in his hand and pulls her mouth onto his cock. ‘Suck on this bitch.’ He snarls. And suck indeed she does. He takes his cock out of her mouth and rubs it against her cheek, around her mouth, against the other cheek and back into her mouth. ‘Lick my bollocks.’ He says withdrawing. She licks around his balls, licking up his testosteroned flavoured sweat. ‘Lay back so I can lick you out.' He kneels between her thighs. Lips to lips. Her bush is black and luxuriant, almost purple in the shadows. ‘Oh that’s nice.' Vanessa responds. Carl licks enthusiastically, in and around this sacred place. Its almost a spiritual experience. Her thighs pressing against his ears blocking out all sound and sensation aware only of the orgiastic symbiosis, a near birth-experience in reverse. ‘Lick me out baby.’ She adds enjoying herself. She squeezes her thighs together a little harder and Carl comes up for air. ‘In the bathroom in the medicine cabinet is my dildo friend and get the baby oil and latex gloves whilst you’re there.' ‘Yes madam. And shall I fetch the champagne and take the corgis for a walk whilst I’m about it.' ‘You could untie me so I can have a drink.’ She suggests. Smoking and drinking followed by Carl smothering baby oil onto Vanessa’s tits wearing a pair of latex gloves and slowly rubbing it round and around much to her delight. She is particularly aroused by the feel of latex and oil on her skin. She is untied but blindfolded again. ‘She’s one giant clit really.’ Thinks Carl. ‘Her whole body is into sensation. I'm not complaining though.' His hand glides over her stomach and he pushes several fingers into her cunt and rubs her clit. ‘Ich will Sie ficken.' He announces. ‘Ah.’ She responds. ‘Ich will Sie stark ficken. Slettenbeffer. Conchuda. Puttana.' He works his fingers faster in her withdraws them and continues applying oil on her thighs. ‘Desidero a vaffunculo.' He stops and the next thing she feels is the dildo pushing inside her. ‘Say. Ich will dass Sie mich ficken. She tries and after several attempts. ‘Ik vill dass Sie mick ficken.' ‘Good.’ His dildo thrusting continues unabated. Vanessa has a red flush across her chest and down her abdomen. From laying by her but lower down he now sits up leaves the dildo in her and sits on her stomach, leans forward and holding both tits pushes them

together onto his cock and tit fucks her. ‘Ich liebe dich my schâtz. Ich moechte dich ficken. Snell and stark.’ ‘Your squashing me Carl. Get off me and put your cock in my mouth.’ She sucks his cock whilst he withdraws the dildo and rubs her clit instead. ‘I want you to come in my mouth.’ She says between gobbles which is completely unnecessary as he is too far gone to stop and anyway coitus interruptus is bad for men’s health as it can cause congestion in the arteries that can be painful, just for starters. She sucks faster, he feels himself on the cusp and then he is climaxing, spurting his spunk, jerking and jerking and she swallows it down. Having sucked him dry she then licks the glans and around the prepuce whilst he gives her clit a few firms rubs then finger-fucks her and then more of the same till she climaxes with a loud exhalation of air followed by a louder ‘Ahhhhh’. A little later in the pleasant relaxed after-glow she says ‘You really know how to treat a woman. Where did you pick up all those dirty words?’ ‘It’s not difficult with a woman who is tuned into her sexuality like you are. And in answer to your question I have been around a bit.’ ‘So have I. Salta gamisu.' ‘Some women do not have a clue. They have to learn or be taught usually. You don’t need any lessons.' ‘I’m a good fuck hey.’ ‘That you are. I need a slash and then a refill.' ‘Pop in the kitchen and get some oj will ya honey.' Drinks are sipped and cigarettes smoked. ‘When are you going to be able to get it up again lover.’ Enquires Vanessa. ‘A man needs to recover from an orgasm. Its called the refractory period.' ‘I know that but why did it take 3 months.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘3 months that’s how long it took my ex before I left him. If a man doesn’t touch his wife for 3 months then something is going on.’ ‘Definitely.’ Carl concurs. ‘I’ll be alright again in ten minutes maybe. Lets talk about how you met hubby?’ ‘Why do you want to know?’ ‘Its my calling to have an interest in people. You can fiddle with my cock in the meantime.' ‘Not much to say really. I spent several months recuperating from my broken legs , ribs and what have you. I knew that was the end of my dancing career. I went home to my parents for a few months in Witney got a job in the . . . ‘ ‘Where?’ ‘Witney, Oxfordshire. A Cotswolds town famous for making blankets in the past and for the Buttercross, the old market place in the Middle Ages where I gave Mike a blowjob.' ‘Mike, your husband?' ‘That’s right. Mike Penwithy. I got a job in the Angel Inn where he was a bit of a regular. I remember him saying to me that the Angel is full of students and posh snobs and I asked him why he kept coming in. And he said to see me. The first time he ever went in there was when I was working there. He lived a few miles outside of the town.

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We fell in love, got married, got two kids under our belts, we got a big contract to supply parts, knobs and switches and such like, for Rover at Cowley, the business expanded, we got richer and I got drunker and the rest is history as they say.' ‘So when did it start to go wrong?’ ‘I have always had a fondness for the bottle, that’s been my downfall. I blame it on being a Pisces though you would probably say its due to my weak character.' ‘I wouldn’t say such a thing.’ He protests feebly. ‘I am going up to see the kids at the weekend.' ‘Where are they ?’ ‘Jason is studying Sports and Exercise at Bedford University and Becky is studying Animal Management and Welfare at Lincoln. But they will be at the house at the weekend. You don’t appear to be getting any harder?’ She say disapprovingly. ‘It will probably help if you talk dirty to him. It can work wonders.' His prick is quite flaccid no longer than an inch and a half long, a mere shadow of its former five and three quarters. She takes it between two fingers and gives it a lick. ‘I want you inside me. I want your cock in my cunt. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard.’ She puts the limp object in her mouth and sucks on it awhile. ‘I’m a dirty bitch and I want you to fuck my brains out.’ ‘A bit more sucking. Its stiffening up.’ Encourages Carl. She complies. ‘Come on you bugger fuck me. I want to feel your cock in my cunt. Fuck me hard.' ‘Move over a little so I can feel your tits.' ‘I want you to shag me. I love your cock in my cunt. I want to feel you inside me.' Carl fondles her tits and squeezes her nipples. ‘Suck me. Suck me. Oh yeah that’s nice. ‘Oooh you are getting nice and hard. Hard enough to fuck me.' ‘Lay on your back and brace yourself.’ No thought of clitoral stimulation just hard sweaty, grunting fucking with Vanessa’s feet on his lower back Carl forces out an explosive orgasm from deep within. Vanessa climbs to the peak and climaxes with equal grunting and cries of encouragement. From penetration to orgasm takes five minutes, Carl rolls off her and she rolls over to him and kisses him on the mouth. ‘I like a man who likes the thrills but can still give a woman a good hard no frills fuck. ‘You reach me on a deeply sexual level. But my heart belongs to another.’ ‘Haven’t you found your soul mate yet?’ ‘I haven’t been looking.’ ‘You’re pretty much lost for a therapist.’ ‘Thanks for your critique of my psyche.’ ‘Are you staying the night?’ ‘No I have work to catch up with. I have been neglecting my Practice admin.' Chapter 6: ‘Hi Cathy. Glad you are back. Are you free this afternoon to hold my hand at a funeral service? You can do that later. I’ll be round in about half an hour and we can do lunch. Ciao.’

Carl is dressed in dark grey trousers, black jacket, black shoes, white shirt with black tie. He jumps into the Astra and reverses out of the drive onto the road. Two minutes later he is parked outside of Cathy’s house. Her blue Nissan Micra is parked in her driveway. Her front lawn could do with watering. Another warm day in late August. He presses the bell next to the light blue door. ‘Blue is her favourite colour.’ He reminds himself. ‘The qualities of blue are honesty, loyalty, tactfulness, calmness, peace and harmony, intuition, devotion to duty, wisdom, tolerance, healing and communication. Well the hell is she.’ He squeezes past her car opens the side door and steps into the back garden. She is down the back of the garden dressed in a long baggy green t-shirt and black leggings and has a watering can in her right hand. There is wood panel fencing on all sides and attached to the panels are hanging baskets of red flowered Himalayan Honeysuckle, trestles of pale pink Jasmine, Honeysuckle, the crimson flowers of Clematis, assorted Ivies the beds a riot of colours and plants from flowers to bushes including Lavender, St John’s Wort, Oriental Poppies, Nasturtiums, White Thrift, Montbretia, Hollyhocks, Dwarf Fuchsia and much more. Carl walks towards Cathy but suddenly feels nauseous and his legs threaten to give way, his vision becomes blurred and he falls awkwardly to a sitting position on the grass. ’My God, are you alright?’ Cathy rushes up to him. ‘I’ll be ok in a moment. Get me a glass of water please.' 'What just happened to you? ‘Just a mild phobic reaction to your garden.; ‘Mild? My garden?’ Cathy is perplexed. ‘Its technical name is Anthophobia. Fear of flowers.' ‘Here is your water.’ She hands him a glass. He drinks half of the contents of the tumbler and sips at the remainder. The nausea is receding and he is almost back to normal consciousness. ‘You are joking about this fear of flowers things right? Lets go in the kitchen.' Carl heaves himself off the grass and brushes down his pants seat and walks a little unsteadily into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. ‘I am alright now, seriously. Though my trousers could do with a sponge down.’ ‘You had better take them off then.’ Carl takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair and slips off his trousers and hands them to Cathy, who gives them a quick sponge down. ‘Grass stains can be a bugger. Whose is it that’s getting cremated? Anyone I know?’ ‘Rose Carpenter. She used to be a stalwart of the group, but before your time. Many of our healers knew her and will be there.’ ‘I am going to do my yoga exercises in the front room so make yourself a coffee and join me when you like.' ‘Ok’. He switches the kettle on and when the water boils makes himself a cup of coffee and takes it into the front room with him. Cathy is in the middle of a series of ‘the cobra’ exercises’ He sits down on the long dark blue four-seater sofa. Cathy has stripped down to her turquoise underwear, it being a warm day and her proposed exercise routine mildly strenuous. The curtains are partially closed. Next she goes into the ‘pigeon pose’ giving her body a good stretch, followed by ‘the butterfly’ and ‘the

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bridge’. She then stands and does ‘the warrior’, twice for each leg, then executes a perfect ‘headstand pose’. Carl sips his coffee whilst she goes into ‘the lotus pose’ closes her eyes and the only sound inside the room is that of her gentle breathing. After five minutes she opens her eyes and smiles contentedly. ‘So how was the retreat?’ Asks Carl sitting in his black boxers, white shirt and black tie. Cathy remains sitting on the carpet but with her legs outstretched now. ‘Oh it was brilliant. It was in a huge mansion house just outside of Bristol, in its own grounds and it even had its own lake. June and I were in a en-suite double room with two single beds. Some people were in singles. There must have been thirty of us there for the retreat’. ‘All woman?’ ‘Yes. Just us girls, though there were a few men about; gardeners, maintenance men and so forth on the periphery as it were. We had daily mediations, yoga sessions, seminars, outdoor games, healing, massage. There was a large dining room where we had our meals naturally, a large meeting room, other smaller rooms.’ ‘Quite a packed agenda. What were the seminars on?’ ‘Women’s issues; the body, menstruation , masturbation, oral and anal sex.’ ‘Sounds interesting. You had healing sessions you said?’ ‘One of the organisers, Candice, said I was a good healer, a natural channel which chuffed me.’ ‘I’ve always thought that about you.’ He grins. ‘We had a group meditation on the lake. On a raft actually that was at the end of the jetty. We all got on it and pushed off to the middle of the lake. It was on ropes so it was perfectly safe. Anyway it isn’t a big lake and not very deep but it ‘Quite some place.’ ‘We had a talk about getting in tune with the Goddess within. It was all very selfaffirming and we had several massage sessions. All stripped off to our underwear massaging each others backs and legs which was fun.’ ‘An induction centre for lesbians. Did you get any urges with all the female sexuality permeating the atmosphere?’ ‘I did. But then I thought of you.’ ‘Did you. What did you think?’ Cathy shuffles nearer to Carl. Her hand is resting on his knee. ‘I thought of your hard prick.’ She says confidence vying with shyness. Her hand moves from his knee to his crotch. She feels his erection. ‘And what did you want to do with my prick?’ ‘I wanted to put it in my mouth’. She sidles between his knees, undoes one button of his shorts, then another pulls out his penis and she takes it in her mouth and starts sucking on it. ‘Take you bra off. I like the visuals.’ Carl tells her. Her tits always remind him of twin pears or some such fruit. The areolas are small but the nipples are large and protruding. Cathy gets into some serious sucking and Carl cautions her about the use of her teeth with the occasional ‘ow’. His breathing quickens and he starts sweating then he encourages her with a few pelvic thrusts that soon brings him to the point of orgasm. ‘I’m coming.’ He announces his intention. Cathy is making loud slurping noises. Carl shoots his load and she carries on slurping, sucking him dry.

‘That was nice.’ Cathy gets up and leaves the room and a few seconds later Carl can hear the tap running in the kitchen. He buttons himself and joins Cathy in the kitchen. She is sitting at the table drinking a glass of apple juice. He bends down and kisses her on the mouth. ‘That was great. What have you got for our lunch?’ ‘Quiche and salad. I had better put some clothes on.’ ‘Let us join hands now and close our eyes. Take a few deep breaths and quiet the mind. As we inhale we breath in peace and calmness and as we exhale we breath out all the tensions and stresses of the day. Inhale peace, exhale tension. All tension and stress dissolving away. Be at one with yourself. At one with each other. At one with the universe. We centre ourselves within, leaving behind the everyday world and entering a special place, the heart centre. As we are now so centred let us take time for a moment to remember Rose Carpenter who departed this world on Monday and who was cremated today. Those of us who knew her will know her as a kind, compassionate human being, a stalwart member of this healing group for many years, who helped many in her lifetime. Let us pause a moment and remember Rose Carpenter. Thank you. Now Let us imagine a beam of shimmering white light descending from above into the centre of the circle. Visualise beams of lights extending out from this central column, like spokes on a wheel. See the beam of light extending out and connecting to your heart centre, a personal connection to you, from the macrocosm to the microcosm. Feel this light fill your whole body with its effervescence. Now let the energy inside of you flow from your right hand into the person next to you. Receiving from the left and giving with the right. We create a circle of light. We are all connected we are all one. Take a few deep breaths and just relax. Brigitte will now lead us into a guided meditation. Thank you Brigitte.’ ‘A good turn out today.’ Observes Barry. ‘Its not too bad. Good to see some new faces.' The regular healers; Doris, Brigitte, Jean, Mary on the female side and Derek, Tom and Barry on the male side, are in attendance. Chloe, Sam, Liz and Yezzie Mackenzie come most weeks for healing. Three woman and one man have come into the room since the end of mediation. ‘The wife and I are off to Majorca on Monday so I wont be here next week Carl .’ Most of the activity is going on at the other end of the room where the two couches are in use and half dozen chairs or so. Cathy is giving healing to Lorraine and Brigitte and Doris are giving healing to Chloe who is laying on a couch. The strains of a New Age music piece can just about be heard where Barry and Carl are sitting. ‘I doubt if we will be able to manage without you Barry. But we will try.’ They have a little chuckle. One of the women, the most attractive one, who is sitting over the other side of the circle picks up her handbag as if she is about to leave. She has shoulder length blonde hair and is wearing black slacks and a cream top. About five foot eight, in her late twenties probably. Carl gets up from his seat and intercepts her by the exit door. ‘Hullo. I hope you are not leaving so soon? My name is Carl Langdon and I am a healer here.’ ‘I don’t think this is what I am looking for really.’ Says the woman looking towards the door. ‘Why don’t we sit down and have a chat. Yes?’ She allows herself to be led to a couple of seats by the window away from all the activity.

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‘So how come you’re here today?’ ‘I saw this advert in the free paper.' ‘The Advertiser. So you are new in town right?’ ‘Correct. My friend and I have been here for a couple of months now but I don’t think we will be here much longer.' ‘So you haven’t been to a spiritual healing meeting before but something drew you here.' ‘I don’t even know what spiritual healing is. I thought it was like massage.' ‘Well with healing you get to keep your clothes on so that’s a big difference for a start.’ He smiles. There is a loud conversation going on the other side of the room and Carl catches the eye of one of the culprits and indicates with his hand to keep the noise down. ‘Perhaps this is not the ideal setting for you and you want to talk in a more private and quiet environment.’ ‘I was expecting it to be more one on more, if you know what I mean. Like counselling.' ‘Yes I do. Here’s my card. Its not free but is done on a pro rata basis. Give me a call and make an appointment and we can discuss healing and whatever your needs are. Ok?’ ‘Ok. I will give you a ring. And thanks.’ ‘No problem. It is daunting entering a room full of strangers. What’s your name?’ ‘Donna. Bye.' ‘Ciao.’ She gives him a funny look as she rises from her seat and looks back when she reaches the exit. Brigitte is coming in Carl’s direction. ‘I was surprised that Stewart was absent from the service this afternoon. Is he unwell?’ asks she. ‘He is not feeling too good so he couldn’t make it.’ ‘Shame. I’ll make the pot of tea.’ ‘If you would.’ There is much activity as more people finish with their healing and gather round the two large tables, next to the books for sale or borrow. Carl and Cathy are talking. ‘Why don’t you come round tomorrow for lunch, bring your yoga mat, we could get out a couple of videos, get a take-away and have a cosy evening in together?’ Suggests Carl. ‘That would be nice. I have some work to catch up with but I should be able to get it all done this evening.’ ‘It’s a date then.' Carl is word processing a letter to Mrs Percival-Jenkins, mother of the harassed Clive late Saturday morning. ‘Dear Mrs P-J. My therapy sessions with Clive are progressing very well and hopefully will soon bear fruit. However the matter of sexual identity and proclivity is somewhat complex as one’s leanings are formed leading up to and during puberty when the psyche is malleable and shaped by concurrent impressions, desires and experiences, as I outlined when you first came to see me on behalf of Clive. Having ascertained to my own satisfaction that there were no traumas or unusual experiences during the time of Clive’s important sexual development I am of the opinion that it is due to Clive’s own inward-looking personality and in the main suppressed sexuality that he has yet to form a relationship with a member of either sex. Apart from the occasional incident Clive is to put it simply ‘sitting on the fence’. My work with him

so far leads me to believe that I can guide him towards a heterosexual relationship, albeit on a novice basis within the next few months. I enclose invoice for the past 4 weeks and for the next month. In total 8 sessions @ £45 per session. (see invoice). Yours . . .’ The door bell rings. Carl goes and opens the door and there stands Cathy, her short dark brown hair shiny and bright, in a floral patterned summer frock wearing a straw hat and sunglasses, a beach bag in her left hand and her yoga mat under her right arm. He is pleased to see her and gives her a quick peck on the lips. ‘Good. You parked behind me. Fancy a cup of Earl Grey tea?’ With the digital radio rock station ‘the Arrow’ playing through the stereo in the living room as background Carl is busy at the oak kitchen table preparing salad as 6 rashers of bacon cook under the grill and 2 pitta breads are warming in the oven. ‘I’m popping to the loo.’ Announces Cathy. ‘Have a look in my bedroom and see what you think.’ Invites Carl. He slices a couple of tomatoes. ‘What do you think?’ ‘I love it. Japanese style is it?’ ‘Yes. Solid cherrywood. I bought over the net from Amazing Emporium in London.’ ‘The bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers must have cost a packet.' ‘I deserve a treat. Cost about two grand all together.’ ‘You don’t live a extravagant lifestyle, so why not. I think the bacon is done.’ They are sitting in deckchairs soon after lunch in the back garden. Tall hedges grow on three sides. The Purbeck stone patio extends from the kitchen wall twenty feet into the garden. There is a rock garden at the bottom of the garden or more accurately a pile of rocks with a few weeds interspersed here and there. In the distance the remote sound of traffic and nearer the sound of chatter on a radio. It is a pleasant afternoon but not sunbathing weather. ‘There is a lot you could do with this garden. Put in a few flower beds, some statues, a pond, a gazebo or even a pagoda.’ ‘Or a pyramid. How about a gallows. I saw a picture of the one at Tombstone, Arizona. Simple but effective.’ ‘I think you are taking the piss Carl.’ ‘I think I am Cathy.’ ‘Do you want to come to a BBQ at my parents house next week, Monday afternoon?’ ‘Sure. It’s about time I met them. It’s a bank holiday. As its your birthday soon maybe we should go out for the day somewhere. We could go up to London or maybe go over to France for the day. What do you think?’ ‘Lets wait a while and see what the weather’s going to be like.’ ‘Ok. Lets go to bed.’ ‘Alright then.’ Carl's Japanese style bed with high headboard and low foot-end covered with a geometric-shaped, multi-coloured design with matching pillows is positioned against one wall with the window on the right. Against the left wall is a large two-doored wardrobe, a chest of drawers with similar design and matching bedside cabinets either side of the bed. Opposite the bed there is a tv/video and stereo system on a shelf unit. Situated under the window is a three seater dark brown leather settee with coffee table. The

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walls are white, dark brown parquet flooring. ‘I’ll get you a coat hanger.’ Offers Carl. Cathy pulls her dress up over her head and off. She is wearing frilly purple bra and knickers. ‘My favourite colour.’ Commends Carl. He strips to his white boxers and t-shirt, throwing his clothes onto the settee. He selects a cd from the rack, inserts and presses play then lays on the bed with Cathy. ‘I like this. Alison Moyet.’ After several minutes of relaxing but inconsequential chatter Carl is nuzzling Cathy’s neck, licking her ear, kissing her on the lips then fondling her tits through the thin material of her bra. ‘Let me take it off.’ Says Cathy and swiftly removes it. Her breasts are small and girlish. He thinks of Vanessa’s melons then tells himself off for comparing. He takes her left tit in the palm of his left hand and lowers his face to take the nipple in his mouth, then moves that hand to fondle the other. He flicks the nipple with his tongue, then takes her right nipple into his mouth whilst his left hand moves down her stomach, under her knicker elastic and rubs her clitoris. She moans a little. In slow motion his lips travel down her abdomen whilst his hand pushes down her knickers and with some help from her removes them. Her groin scents of lavender. He licks her clit as Alison sings about being all cried out, licks her lips and inserts several fingers into her moist cunt. ‘Ah, oh Carl. I want your prick in my mouth.’ Carl swivels his body around so that they are laying on their sides their mouths attached to each others genitals. ‘Cathy’s mouth has never been so accommodating. Uh. Slowly, slowly. I don’t want to come yet.’ So goes his inner dialogue. Cathy detaches herself from Carl’s cock and says ‘Lie on your back’. So he lies back and Cathy kneels by his side and continues to give him a gobble, slowly. Her pace picks up with ‘Is this love.' ‘I think she did more than talk about oral sex on her retreat.’ Thinks Carl. She repositions herself with her thighs straddling his lower leg, her crotch massaging his tibia and fibula, one hand gripping the base of his shaft whilst her mouth works on the top end. Carl is overcome with the pleasure and can hold back no longer and spasms half a dozen times, pumping his spunk into her mouth which she swallows down and continues to suck up each last drop of him. ‘Mmmm Cathy, that was magic.' But Cathy is not fulfilled. She pulls his cock upright and sits on it, lowering herself up and down, having her fill of him, fingers of her right hand rubbing her clit and her left fondling her breasts. Her stomach and breasts redden, her vagina tightens, her pelvic muscles go into a series of contractions, she shivers and moans as her orgasm sweep over. She is sweating hard and out of breath and collapses onto Carl who not having seen her in this state before thinks she may be having a fit. ‘You okay darling?’ He asks. ‘I’ve never felt better.’ She affirms. ‘Its within you not without.’ Quotes he enigmatically. Carl awakes slowly, groggily from his doze. He is laying on his stomach still naked. No sign of Cathy. He arises, slips on his boxers and goes downstairs to the kitchen where he puts on the electric kettle to make coffee. He spots Cathy doing a yoga workout on her mat on the lawn. Coffee ready he goes back upstairs, takes a piss, has a strip wash, cleans his teeth, drinks his coffee, has a cigarette and slips into jeans and black t-shirt and returns downstairs. He goes into his office turns on the computer,

completes letter and invoice to Mrs P-J, checks his emails, ‘No I don’t want a penis extension’ and goes onto the Brittany Ferries website to check out sailings in September. Carl shuts off the computer and goes into the garden where Cathy is concluding her session. ‘Fancy going for a walk down by the river?’ ‘That will be nice. Let me get changed first. Ten minutes.’ After their walk along the river over Northbourne they go to the Choices video shop in Winton and Cathy chooses to get out ‘Moulin Rouge’ which she has seen before but Carl has not and Carl selects ‘the Bourne Identity’ which neither have seen. Back in Boscombe they pick up a Chinese take-away from China Dragon; a compilation meal consisting of spare ribs Peking style, spring rolls, crispy aromatic duck, chicken with Chinese mushrooms and egg fried rice. As an after thought they pick up a couple of bottles of white wine. Sitting on the settee in the living room with the food laid out on a low large glass and chrome table they help themselves and drink a glass of wine and decide to put on the ‘Moulin Rouge’ video as an accompaniment to the fare. An orgy of taste and visual senses. Settling back and watching the exciting second film with Cathy close and cuddled up to him Carl’s attention starts to wander from stroking her hair to fondling her left breast. ‘Why don’t we stop the film and go upstairs.’ Suggests Carl. ‘Oh, don’t you like the film?’ ‘Of course I do but my mind is more on you.’ ‘Alright my darling. Let’s take a cup of coffee up with us.’ ‘Good idea.’ After a period of kissing, titting and licking Carl slides his cock into her tight cunt. Some gentle strokes are followed by some hard shafting and soon Carl is climaxing and two minutes later Cathy has her orgasm. With his spunk and softening cock inside her Cathy tells him. ‘Oh Carl I love you. I love you so much.’ ‘I love you too Cathy.’ He responds. They lay together for a couple more minutes then he rolls off her and reaches for a cigarette. ‘I love you Carl, you know that don’t you?' I love you Cathy.’ He repeats automatically expelling a stream of smoke through his mouth. ‘No. I mean I really love you. I have for a long time.' She rests her head on his stomach and he strokes her hair. Silence. ‘I used to think I was frigid. I’ve had two longish relationships before you but I was quite inexperienced. Now there is you.’ ‘You don’t have a problem having an orgasm. With me anyway.’ ‘I’ve had orgasms before and with you but they haven’t been earth-shattering. Until our trip to ShellBay.’ ‘You were different then.’ Comments Carl. ‘So were you.’ ‘You will have more full-blown orgasms when you surrender.’ ‘Surrender to a man, to you?’ ‘Surrender to your feelings and sensations.’ ‘Perhaps the men I have known haven’t known how to please me, or just couldn’t be

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bothered.’ ‘Is that a dig at me?’ ‘No. of course not. But I think you think of me as just a friend that you have sex with. Like I don’t mean that much to you.’ ‘You mean a lot to me.’ ‘Perhaps. How is it for you?’ ‘I don’t have a problem coming.’ ‘No, I know. But you hold back something. Not your stuff. But you. You never say how you feel about me. You don’t talk about yourself. I hardly know anything about you.’ ‘Its hard for me to express my feelings. I am more mental and physical than emotional.’ ‘You are a nutcase.’ She laughs and grabs his bollocks in her hand and squeezes, gently. ‘Careful. What’s got into you? You’ve metamorphosed into a sex siren recently.’ ‘I just cannot get enough of you.’ ‘Have you some agenda you are not telling me about?’ ‘The only agenda I have is making love to you.' ‘Mmm. Drink your coffee. I’ll pop down and get the film.’ Carl wakes up about three needing a slash then afterwards decides he is not very tired and pads downstairs naked to the kitchen where he makes coffee and rolls a small one from the makings in his smoking box. ‘So what is going on with Cathy? Something obviously is as she is going out of her way to please me sexually. She never bothered before but then again nor did I. I barely give Cathy a thought except when I am with her and even then a big part of my mind is focussed elsewhere. Even when we are having sex she never commands my attention. Not like Vanessa, I get a hard on thinking about her, or similar women, women who have a lust for sex, a deep need which comes from hurt and a desire for wholeness, albeit temporarily. What has she got to offer? Why would I want to be with her? I am fond of her, I love her, but I am not in love with her and don’t need her to be complete. However. yes she is my soul mate in one segment of my psyche but someone else could be my soul mate in another. Why can there only be one? Who says so? Do I care anyway? I make up my own rules now. I am not a child. So Cathy is in love with me, is she. So that gives her some special claim on me does it? What is wrong with us being fucking friends? It works for me. I think she only knows one side of me. The kind, considerate side, the therapist. But that’s only part of me. I am not a stick of Bournemouth rock. All the same it is stimulating to consider that Cathy wishes to signup for a silver card membership in my exclusive club, rather than continue with the bronze. "Liebe, Arbeit und Wissen sind die Quellen unseres Lebens. Sie sollen es auch regieren." Not forgetting sex. I don’t know where I am going at the moment. I am on the cusp of things, exploiting situations that come my way. I don’t want to be constricted or restricted or duty-bound at the present time. Though I do think I should give Cathy the opportunity to get fully in tune with her Goddess and her opposite deity.’ Carl stubs out the cigarette, finishes his coffee and pads back up stairs. He leaves the hall light on and the door slightly ajar to bring some illumination into the room and gets into bed. She is laying on her side with her back to Carl. Just her head and shoulders are exposed. He runs a hand along her back and over her bum several times. Cathy is breathing shallowly. He pushes a finger into the ravine at the top of her cheeks,

centimetre by centimetre till he reaches the area of her vagina. Of course she is locked up secure as a jewellers. ‘What's going on? What time is it?' Asks a barely awake Cathy. ‘Its gone half three. I want to fuck you. Now. Roll over onto your stomach.’ He says whilst pulling the duvet down her naked form. Now he is kneeling by her and stroking the cheeks of her arse. He wets a couple of fingers and rubs them against the outer lips of her vagina, lubing her up to gain quick access. ‘Carl I’m tired and I‘m going to be sore in the morning if we do this now.' Carl is slowly working his fingers into her fairly dry cunt. He gobs onto his hand and rubs his spit onto the head of his cock. ‘Open your legs a little Cathy. Please.' He lies awkwardly half on top of her and with his hand on his cock guides it in the right direction. He pushes and withdraws a little allowing his spit to do its work. A deeper push and less of a withdrawal . With each push he enters into her more fully. Carl starts getting into a slow rhythm and Cathy despite herself gives a little moan, of pleasure. Carl is now thrusting faster supporting his weight on his hands. Carl knows that he is going to have to climb a hill to get this orgasm so he withdraws, kneels up and pulls Cathy’s legs open more fully so she is almost kneeling with her head still on her pillow and pulls her back onto him. He enters her and gripping the cheeks of her arse thrusts hard and fast in her cunt. It is as if his momentum will take him to the edge. Which it does. She groans and he grunts. He comes, just a drop of spunk but a great release of psycho-sexual energy. Carl collapses onto Cathy then rolls over onto his back. ‘I need a wee now.’ Is Cathy’s only comment. Carl escapes from the grip of an anxious dream around about eight this morning, notices Cathy is not in bed and goes back to sleep to awake again fully forty five minutes later. Downstairs Cathy is not to be found. Her car has gone. ‘I think last night was a fuck too far and she has got a cob on.’ Surmises Carl. However he has no time to dwell on Cathy’s eccentricities as he has to grab a shower and get dressed. Chapter 7: ‘And now Carl will give the talk this morning on the subject of, what is the subject Carl? Says Stewart handing the floor and the microphone to Carl who steps up led. ‘Thank you Stewart and Good Morning everyone. Hem hem. I am sure all of us here have thought at one time or another that there is more to life than working, raising a family, going on holiday, watching television and all the myriad of activities that fill a normal life. There must be something more to life than acquiring possessions and trying to write our own ego story through time and space over three score years and ten. Have you ever had that impression, that tugging at your consciousness, that you are down here on Planet Earth for a particular purpose, something unique to you, but you cannot remember what it is, cannot quite put your finger on it. Meanwhile you get on with your life. It is as if you have amnesia and the only way to regain your memory as far as you understand is to wander the various paths that life and circumstances present to you with the hope that you will eventually encounter, through chance and the Grace of god, your own missing and mythical Holy Grail, on discovery of which

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suddenly the laser beam of illumination will cause full consciousness and memory to return and then you will set off on your holy crusade filled with meaningfulness and purpose and live happily ever after.’ Carl takes a drink from the glass of water besides him. ‘There is a story of a almost inaccessible valley in the Upper Himalayas where live a tribe of people who believe that they are the descendents of the survivors of a spaceship that crashed in that valley hundreds or thousands of years ago whilst visiting from a distant galaxy. The lives of these people is focalised on the fervent belief, hope and prayer that one day a similar craft will appear to rescue them and return them to their true home beyond the stars. This story seems improbable and implausible but not so strange really when one considers that there are millions of otherwise rational people whose lives are intertwined with a similar notion; that of the Day of Salvation, the Second Coming or the Day of Judgement.’ Carl takes another sip of water. There are perhaps sixty people seated in rows in this privately owned and financed Metaphysics Centre. He casts an eye over the assembled people. Many he knows and some not. ‘In metaphysical circles we tend to share a scenario based on the idea that we are spiritual beings who have chosen to incarnate on this earthly plane to learn the lessons we need to learn for spiritual growth and development. Earth is a school of learning, of the hard knocks variety. We arrive without a manual and with amnesia as well. If you buy a Japanese digital camera it comes complete with instructions in the language of your choice. Not so with life. We have been given guidelines throughout the centuries in the form of inspired writings passed down from generation to generation based on characters real or imaginary from Moses to Jesus, Mohammed, the Buddha and others and we may or may not have found our answers there. We are each one of us unique, ‘an eachness expressing the allness of the divine’, to quote Eric Butterworth. Within each one of us lies the power and limitlessness of the Universe though I am sure most of us don’t feel like that first thing in the morning. Websters dictionary defines a mission as ‘a continuing task or responsibility that one is destined to do or specially called upon to undertake.’ The words ‘calling’ and ‘vocation’ come into mind and one can link them with the concept of God. One ingredient that is needed to fulfil a mission is enthusiasm, the word deriving from the Greek ‘en theos’ which means ‘God in us’.’ Carl takes another sip of water, his mouth dry. Looking into the audience he notices a couple of the old dears have nodded off. Time to go over to the default option, the short version. ‘Finding one’s mission here on earth is not easy but there are a few simple guidelines. Your mission is divided into three parts, the first being one you share with humanity which is to stand hour by hour in the conscious presence of the God-Force. The second part of your mission is to do what you can, day by day, step by step, to make this world a better place. This means we are all Light Bearers, we are individually and collectively responsible for the destiny of Mankind and the future of this planet. Life puts obstacles in our paths and we have constantly to choose between right thought and action which create love, peace, understanding and forgiveness or wrong thought and action which instils hate, seperateness and breeds unkindness. Now we come to the third part of your mission which is uniquely and individually your

own. It is to exercise that talent which you particularly came to earth to use in those places or settings which the God-Force has caused to appeal to you the most and for those purposes which the God-Force most needs to have done in the world. Your unique and individual mission will most likely be a mission of love, acted out in one or all of three areas; either in the realm of the mind whose goal is to bring more truth into the world; or in the realm of the heart whose goal is to bring more beauty into the world; or in the realm of the will whose goal is to bring perfection into the world through service. Kenneth Hildebrand wrote ‘strong lives are motivated by dynamic purposes.’ Go about your life expressing the divinity within. The things you do don’t have to be big, or make you wealthy or bring you fame, perhaps your efforts may go unrecognised by those around you but as you express the love inside of you you are fulfilling your mission, being in tune with the Infinite, the microcosm reflecting the macrocosm. Not only is everyone unique but a valuable part of the whole. Whatever your gift and talent is, use it. Whether it be cooking good food, sewing, talking, writing, helping others, then do it for your world for your God have need of you. Thank you. Now back to Stewart.’ Carl sits back down on his seat in the front row whilst Stewart makes a few announcements and slowly winds up the proceedings. Carl’s thoughts drift back to his phone call to Cathy he made whilst parked on the road outside the centre before the start of the meeting. ‘Cathy. What happened to you? I woke up and you were gone. Where did you have to rush off to? Silence on the other end of the line. ‘Cathy. Are you there?’ ‘I was upset so when you fell asleep I came home.’ ‘For fucks say why? I thought we had a nice day together.’ ‘We did until you screwed me in the middle of the night. Like I was some bitch dog.’ ‘What are you talking about? We made love in the night that’s all.’ ‘That wasn’t making love that was just fucking. No. worse than that it was like you were masturbating in a convenient hole.’ ‘This is the first time you have been so sensitive about me fucking you. That’s part of what we do is it not? If you are going to go off in a huff then perhaps we should cool it for awhile.’ ‘Suits me fine.’ She agrees and puts down the phone. ‘Women, there is no understanding them.’ Exclaims Carl . Bank Holiday Monday morning Carl spends dyson- ing up and down, doing his laundry and going for a cycle ride along the prom despite the inclement weather. Wet and sweaty he puts the cycle in the garage, pops upstairs, strips out of tracksuit trousers and sweatshirt and takes a shower. Two cups of filter coffee, a half hour viewing porn on the internet, a pork pie salad and the phone rings. It’s Cathy, a contrite Cathy. ‘Yes it is brightening up. Yes I will be along about three.’ He assures her. Carl sits down in the living room and browses the tv guide when the phone rings again. Not being in the best of moods he snatches up the phone prepared to give Cathy a bollocking. ‘What now?' ‘Hullo sexy. Do fancy coming round to see me?' ‘Well, I have to be someplace soon but I could pop round for awhile.’

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‘Bring me some fags round darling.’ ‘See you soon.’ Half an hour later Carl is climbing the back stairs to Vanessa’s flat above the shop. He presses the buzzer once, no reply, twice before she opens the door. Carl immediately has misgivings about his visit as she has obviously been hitting the bottle, is feeling sorry for herself and has been crying. He takes a deep breath and enters through the portal into the kitchen and beyond to the living room. A couple of bottles of Lambrusco stand proudly amongst the debris of cigarette butts, tissues and make-up on the coffee table. Another empty bottle stands forlornly in juxtaposition to the other two. ‘Still life of 3 wine bottles and overflowing ashtray-Mid-life Crisis-Parts IV-VII.’ ‘You’re looking well.’ Carl offers as an opening gambit. ‘Liar. I look like shit. But it’s nice to see you. Fancy a drink?' ‘Just a small one thanks.’ Vanessa pops into the kitchen to get another glass. He sits on the sofa and starts rolling a three skinner. ‘So, how did it go with hubby and the kids?’ ‘It was wonderful. I was so pleased to see the kids if only for a short time. Mike and I had a long talk, he wants us to get back together again. He swears if I go back he will be eternally faithful. We even slept together.’ She refills her glass. ‘Give me a drag on that.’ ‘Sure. It was all good?’ ‘It was till last night when we went out for a meal at an Italian restaurant and he bumped into some old slag he’s been screwing. I had had too much to drink and got rather bolshie and threw my Steak Diane into his lap. He laid down the law and said he would have me back if I stayed off the booze, permanently. Start going to AA meetings again and maybe go into a clinic.’ ‘That’s sound like the best option for you. What do you think?’ ‘I think you are right. I am going to start going to meetings and see my doctor about getting me checked into St Dolphinius’s to dry out. But that’s for later. Do you want to fuck?’ Carl looks at his watch. ‘Just a quickie then.' By the time Carl arrives at Cathy’s parents house on upmarket Canford Cliffs Road it is gone seven and raining. The drive is over run with Mercs, BMW’s, Rolls, etc as is the road for fifty yards in each direction. The land of lawyers, doctors, entrepreneurs, gangsters and sundry professionals. Feeling slightly damp by clothes but warm by mood Carl negotiates a path through the parked cars. Coloured flashing lights and disco music suggest the party is in full swing round the back. ‘Donna Summer! Quite a mansion. Solid as a brick shithouse. Where’s the bloody doorbell? Scheisse.’ Carl buzzes but no one comes to the door so he opens the door and goes in anyway. No one in the hall, sounds of activity at the back of the house, in the kitchen. ‘Well hullo.’ Warmly greets one of the females assembled there filling an icebucket from the ice-making machine. The plump lady in her forties wearing her designer Specsaver glasses ushers him in. ‘If you are looking for Helen she’s throwing up in the loo. You’re not a friend of Clarissa’s are you?’ ‘I’m everyone’s friend tonight. Where do I get a drink?’

‘In the marquee darling, that’s where the bar is.’ ‘Thanks’. Carl proceeds through the kitchen and into the midst of the revelry. There are numerous tables scattered around the inside of the perimeter of the tent. A dozen or more people are dancing, enthusiastically, in the central area. The other forty or so are sitting or standing around, some heavy with bling others with child. There is a fair sprinkling of pensioners and the inevitable few small children running around. Carl presumes correctly that the bar and food must be at the far end so carefully wends his way along the left hand side, the DJ doing his thing on the right. He sees June, Cathy’s sister, looking harassed with a toddler on her lap, and bends down to say a few words with her. ‘Cathy thinks you are not coming. She says you two have fallen out.’ She looks him in the eye accusatorily. ‘I’m parched I must get a drink.’ Shrugs Carl swiftly moving on. Despite her wellendowed body Carl has never fancied June. At the far end under a canopy several men are barbecuing steaks, sausages, chicken portions and beefburgers on an industrial sized apparatus. Next to them on a trestle table are bowls of salad, coleslaw, mayonaisse, ketchup and various relishes. Against the rear of the marquee proper on several other table are arrayed bottles of various spirits, wines and continental beers. A cheery redfaced man in cricket whites, portly in build and short of stature, with a mop of curly black, shot through with grey, hair seems to be in charge. ‘So what do you fancy young man? Everything you could possibly want from the warehouses of Cherbourg.’ ‘Vodka and OJ please, and make it a large one.’ ’Coming up.’ He pours a large measure into a plastic cup and fills it to over-brimming with juice from a carton. Carl takes a large gulp. ‘Quite a shindig here tonight.’ Comments Carl glancing round and spotting Cathy amongst the dancers. He stands there watching her a smile on his face. ‘That’s my daughter Cathy there. Twenty five in a few weeks and still not married. It’s not right.’ ‘Perhaps she doesn’t want to get married or hasn’t found the right man.’ ‘She says she has found the man she wants and loves him but whether he is the right one for her I don’t know. She’s keeping him hidden away. He was meant to come this afternoon but he hasn’t come. She has been ringing him all afternoon but has got no reply. Perhaps you know him? Carl. Carl Langdon.’ ‘That will be me. I’m Carl. Care to top me up?’ ‘Bugger.’ The music momentarily pauses and during this hiatus Cathy notices him standing there. She comes over. ‘You two have met then?’ ‘Just.’ Comments her father. ‘A glass of white wine Dad. What have you two been talking about?’ ’What a bastard I am.’ ‘Dad!’ Cathy glares at her father. ‘Not really Cathy. He has left that up to you.’ Cathy looks offended. ‘That’s not fair. You are making me out to be a right old nagger.’ ‘Kvetch. Perhaps you two should find somewhere quiet to have a chat.’ Suggests Dad. Carl suddenly feels that many surreptitious eyes are upon him.’

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‘Lets go inside the house.’ Proposes Cathy. Through the marquee and into the kitchen then the hall. ‘Must be easy to get lost in this place.’ Comments Carl. ‘Haha. This way.’ She leads him into a secondary living room and turns on a table lamp. They sit on armchairs with polished wooden armrests opposite each other. ‘Do your parents always put on such a show for a BBQ?’ ‘It’s their wedding anniversary. Their thirty fifth.’ ‘So, are you still in a huff?’ ’Do you mean from Saturday night or today?’ ‘Either.’ ‘You are not taking Viagra are you? Don’t answer. I rang you this afternoon but all I got was your voice mail. Six times.’ ‘No of course I don’t take Viagra. And I had an urgent call from a client I had to go and see and also my phone battery is low.’ ‘On a bank holiday?’ ‘I’m like the emergency services. Always on call.’ ‘How did your talk go?’ ’It went well. It got a few of the old dears dozing anyway. Stewart sends his regards. Asked how you were.’ ‘That old lecher.’ ‘He likes you.’ ‘He likes anything in a dress.’ ‘The libido never dies, it just reverberates across the universe.’ ‘As long as his libido doesn’t come near me.’ ‘Actually I thought we could take him out for a drive sometime.’ Cathy looks at him disdainfully. ‘You will be alright with me around. He has been a good friend to me and helped me a lot.’ ‘I know.’ ‘You know what I would like to do right now?’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘I’d like to strip you off bare ass naked and fuck you in that armchair.' ‘Oooh. I’m tempted but someone might come in.’ ‘We will just have to barricade the door. Come on Cathy strip off and I’ll put my chair against the door. Lets be spontaneous, carpe diem.’ Carl swiftly pushes the heavy chair against the door then divests himself of his clothing, then helps Cathy off with her bra. They kiss standing up, his hands wandering all over her body. Her hand descends to his crotch and grasps his semi-erect cock in her hand.' I think you need some assistance.’ She says slipping down onto her knees and putting his cock in her mouth. ‘You taste of soap,’ She comments after a few sucks before continuing her ministrations. ‘Sit down.’ Commands Carl. She sits down on the armchair. ‘Spread your legs and put one over each of the arms.’ He goes down on his knees in front of her and pulls her open and licks her wet. Cathy is soon moaning with pleasure. He takes his cock in hand and rubs it against her, on her clit and fanny and gently eases himself inside her. Soon he is thrusting inside, her legs resting on his shoulders. He leans

into her more, half kneeling, half laying, and her legs slip from his shoulders onto his arms. He grasps her tits, mouth to mouth, genitals to genitals. His breath becomes slower as does his strokes. One, two, three, four, five, six and he ejaculates and continues to fuck till Cathy lets out a strangled cry as she too climaxes. They slow down, then come to a stop. ‘Phew.’ Says Cathy. ‘Indeed.’ Echoes Carl. ‘Release me I’m suffocating.’ Pinned back against the back of the chair as she is. ‘You’re really flexible.’ Observes Carl. ‘Its all the yoga I do. You’ve seen the Kama Sutra.’ ‘I have and I want to practice some of the positions.’ ‘Lets practice together then.’ Says Cathy They both start to get dressed. ‘Lets get back out there I want another drink.’ ‘We can’t leave without you meeting my Mum.’ Ten minutes later Carl is sitting down at a white plastic table, sitting on a white plastic chair drinking his vodka-oj, smoking a Marlboro and lightly flirting with Cathy’s Mum, Abi. The younger element are being catered for musically and soon Carl becomes distracted by a clubbing version of ‘what’s going on’ and uncharacteristically, snatching Cathy away from a spirited conversation she is engaged in, is seen to be dancing wildly but in rhythm with her. Later that night Cathy drops him home as he is too drunk to be seen in public and too smashed too drive. Chapter 8: Tuesday morning comes too early for Carl so he postpones it till the afternoon. Whilst he is leafing through a book of Maxfield Parrish illustrations his six o clock appointment arrives. ‘Hullo Clive. How are you? Do you fancy going to the pub?’ ‘Grab a seat Clive and I’ll get the drinks. Lager alright? Two pints of Stella please. So how are things? How did the weekend go?’ They have a seat by a window over looking the clifftop road, though the cliffs are a good seventy five metres away. But the sea can be seen. ‘The Crippled Seagull’’ sign out front features a cartoon seagull with one leg on crutches, an eye patch and a flying helmet; an aquatic aviator á la Long John Silver. Being close to the sea it attracts the holidaymakers and casual drinkers and those wanting a full menu of comestibles. ‘A group of us from work met up at ‘The Fatted Calf’ for the Thursday night quiz. We divided up into three teams playing against the other teams there. It was pretty busy. I was on Sue’s team and it was fun. We didn’t win though, none of our teams. Did you know Coca Cola was originally green? Sue is nice. We are going out to the cinema tomorrow night.’ ‘That’s marvellous. Cigarette? You don’t smoke of course, I remember. You have to make up your mind which way you’re going soon Clive. Not for your mothers sake who is footing the bill but for your own sake. You need to get laid. Big Time. ’ Clive nods in agreement.

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‘Have you ever thought of using the services of a prostitute or an escort agency? No. What do you get up to on your computer in your bedroom at night? Down-loading porn I expect And what kind of porn? Guys having sex? What role would you be playing or would you be versatile? Clive there is very little comparison between an arsehole and a cunt apart from them both being orifices, There is so much more sensual pleasure with being with a woman. And not only that, you get to be friends, for awhile anyway. That’s what its about. A girlfriend. But if on the other hand your emotional psyche attracts you to men friends then you are going to have to get up off your arse and meet some men. Put yourself out on a limb. Be vulnerable; strip away your habitual defences. You might have some unpleasant experiences on your road to enlightenment but enlightenment is not your goal. No, its experience for experiences sake. True to yourself, in the moment. Do you want another drink? OK. I’ll have another beer and a double vodka and oj. Thanks.’ Carl drains his glass. Clive returns with the drinks. ‘Speaking as your therapist and at the risk of deja-vuing myself I repeat, you need to get laid or at least suck a dick or two.’ A couple sit down at a table close by. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ enquires Clive. ‘Go ahead.’ ‘Were you brought up by both your parents?’ ‘I didn’t know my father for long.’ Carl lowers his voice. ‘His absence has been more a factor in my life than his presence. It was just me and Mum. And the hundreds of others who came into, through and out of our lives. The crazy world of my mother. I had to grow up pretty fast. Anyway you don’t pay to hear about me and it is not conducive to our professional relationship. Sometimes clients get a crush on their therapist, invest in them inappropriate feelings and project onto them qualities they don’t possess. The therapist is empathetic, the proper target for ones good feelings is absent and there you have it. Its called transference. They might think they are in love with their therapist and. . ‘ ‘I do love you.’ Blurts out Clive. ‘This is what I am talking about Clive. The feelings you should have for a significant other in your life are directed towards me because there is no one else. You have to express yourself emotionally and sexually towards another, man or woman. There is nothing wrong with you Clive. You lack confidence that’s all. Be true to yourself. And living in a box is not being true to yourself. Is really doesn’t matter why you are, just build on who you are. That’s enough of the sermonizing. St Carl of Bournemouth, patron saint of neurotics that’s me.’ ‘I should go on an 18-30’s holiday. That would be a fun way to meet people.’ ‘Good idea. Its time for you to move on. Be an adult. Improve the quality of life.’ ‘You are confident in yourself. How do you do it?’ ‘Its practice that’s all. I have had sex in at least ten European countries and a few capitals outside as well. Well I have to go but you carry on. Here’s the money for the double.’ He puts two pound coins onto the table. ‘Hasta la vista.’ It being a fine and sunny morning with few leaves to wade through in the park Carl is running. A large vicious looking dog bounds over to him across his path,

intercepting him and commands he give her a stroke. He feels good. Joie de la vie. Alegría de la vida. He goes through to the Ashley Road, does a left and pounds the pavement in his midnight blue trainers. Along the Christchurch Road there are shops and more people. He stops at a bakery and purchases two hot bread rolls and clutching a white paper bag in his left hand continues his run It is three minutes past ten when he stops outside of ‘Vanessa’s Flowers’, bends over to catch his breath, calm his racing heart. He can see that Vanessa is busy but enters the shop anyway. She approaches him. ‘Hi.’ He says and gives her a light kiss on the mouth and whispers. ‘Do you want to get down and be dirty tonight? ‘Yes please.’ She smiles. ‘See you later then.’ It is seven minutes past ten when he exits the flower shop and continues on his run. ‘Should we be doing this? You I mean. Not me.’ Queries Carl as he prepares to get out of the passenger seat of Vanessa’s red Ford Sierra Acura to go buy alcohol in the off-license. ‘Call it the last fling of the condemned woman. I am going to be purer than a nun after tonight.’ ‘Another AA meeting?’ ‘I’m going into St Dolphinius’s tomorrow.’ ‘Why, have you been sectioned?’ ‘My doctor has arranged it. He said it’s like a hotel there set in its own grounds with a its own clifftop path down to the beach and I will have my own room.’ ‘It’s a mental hospital Vanessa not a health club.’ ‘Well I need to have a complete dry-out and get my act together now. I’m getting too old for one night stands and short-time affairs. Get some cigarettes whilst your in there.’ A third of a bottle of vodka later its is time for Carl to either go to bed or go home. ‘Why don’t you put on your little red outfit Vanessa? And give me a thrill.’ ‘You want thrills do you?’ She responds with a wicked smile as she stands. ‘A performance. You used to be a dancer. Perform for me.’ ‘I’ll be a few minutes.’ She says heading for the bedroom. Carl sips his drink and smokes a cigarette. He takes off his sweatshirt. His shoes come off. With very little noise in the flat apart from the distant whirr of the fridge in the kitchen. Carl hears the cars going by on the street below; a loud conversation between a party of girls builds in crescendo directly below and soon recedes in the distance hum of the traffic. The ambience of a Main street in many towns in late summer. ‘Well the hell is she?’ Carl wonders getting restless. There is nothing in this hiatus he wishes to think or do. This interval between scenes is dragging. He has lost his hard-on. ‘This better be good.’ He says to the empty room. ‘Make some space in the room.’ Calls Vanessa out of the bedroom. ‘And look through my cds and find my Donna Summer and put ‘I Feel love’ on. Put it on repeat.’ ‘By Jove’s jock-strap’ Thinks Carl. He pushes the sofa back ‘And turn the lights down.’ ‘I hope there are no snakes or juggling.’ He comments wryly. ‘Snakes are not an aphrodisiacs for me dear. I’m a hands on man.’ He turns on a nearby lamp and shuffles through a nine inch stack of cds and prises his prize from within and

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slips it into the player. ‘Boom boomboom boom. Off we go. She is an Entertainer. She has entertained well so far.’ He refills his glass and lights a cigarette. ‘How do I look?’ Vanessa appears in front of him. Carl appraises her in form and detail. The black stockings, suspenders and red bra; hair tied back in a red ribbon. Red lips. The general issue turn-on. And she does it well. Carl rearranges his genitals. ‘I can tell you used to be a Pro. A Professional. Are we going to fuck now?’ ‘Not until I’ve had a drink and a fag then I’ll seduce you.’ She sits, pours a fresh drink and lights up. ‘That sounds good. Did you have a lot of sex on your travels? After the show, foreign men, you know?’ ‘I’m not going to answer that. Is this your lighter or mine.’ ‘That reminds me. Every time I see you my lighters disappear.’ ‘I thought my handbag was getting heavy.’ ‘I’ll turn Donna down.’ ‘Do you want me to dance for you?’ ‘If it’s a sexy dance that involves you fondling your tits and putting that dildo up yourself then count me in.’ ‘I ah. I cannot pin down what you are exactly but it begins with bastard.’ ‘I am not only here for sex I also like your company.’ ‘Preferably in bed.’ ‘Is this the long prologue to the short farewell? Do you feel our ways are now parting? Is that why your sad? Carl is perceptive but also sarcastic. He is up close to Vanessa . ‘Stop reading my mind. You came into my life at the right time. You have been a bridge.’ ‘All part of my parish work.’ ‘Be serious. For a moment Carl. I know it is all a big joke to you. Light entertainment. But Life hurts.’ ‘I am humbled by your worthy words Oh Mistress of the Darkness. Let me worship at the altar of your body.’ He attempts to caress her but she fends him off.’ ‘We both know this is an interlude, for both of us.’ Carl is now serious. ‘A bit of fun.’ He continues. ‘We have enjoyed being together.’ He elaborates. ‘You are probably scared about the transition into a sober you. But you will be fine. You’re great sober. But you are scared you wont be. There is more I could say but I’ll spare you. Thrill me or kill me now.’ ‘Yes doctor. How do you want me?’ ‘Get up and dance sinuously and I’ll tell you what to do.’ She gets up and stands, swinging her arms like she was running and swivelling her hips, thrusting her pelvis forward. Swinging her arms up above her head. ‘Fondle yourself.’ Suggests Carl. She caresses hers tits, brings her hands down over her abdomen, rubs her thighs. Carl pours himself another drink. ‘Undo my bra for me.’ She stands with her back to him, hands behind her head. Statuesque. Carl goes to her and brings an arm round to cup he right breast whilst his left hand squeezes her left buttock. She rubs her arse against his erection. A tit in each

hand. He releases her and unfastens her bra and lets it fall to the carpet. She turns round to face him. ‘Sit down and enjoy the show.’ She commands. Carl sits back down on the sofa. Vanessa turns up the music, fondles her self, bunches her tits and licks her lips. Swaying seductively her right hand fondles her left breast whilst her left hand reaches down between her thighs. She rubs and fingers herself. He makes himself comfortable by removing his trousers. ‘Come nearer.’ Directs Carl. ‘I want to feel you.’ She is standing directly in front of him. Carl sits forward and strokes her thighs, across her abdomen down along her hips, feeling the smooth texture of her skin, fingers amongst her thatch, her coarse pubic hair as she gently sways to an internal rhythm. She opens her legs slightly and pushes her fanny towards him. He eases two fingers into her wet cunt, leans into her, breathing in the scent of her, the feel of her, the taste of her, tongueing her flesh, her public hair on his upper lip and in his nostrils. She pulls away to pick up the flesh-coloured dildo from the coffee table, squirts some baby oil onto it and gets back into her routine with accessory. Carl meanwhile undoes the buttons on his boxers and pulls out his stiff cock and gives it a few strokes. Swaying sultrily Vanessa takes the dildo on a tour of her anatomy then sits down on the carpet in front of him, legs wide open, leaning back on one hand, dildo inserted into her cunt. Carl wanks himself slowly then stands up and strips naked and joins her on the carpet. He kneels by her. He kisses and fondles her, squeezes her hard nipples and moves his hand to take up dildo duty as she leans back. ‘Turn over. Get on all fours.’ Directs Carl. ‘Yes Sir.’ Complies Vanessa. Carl steps back from her as if to get the best position and angle to take a photo. He follows the contours of her hanging breasts, the still firm but slightly chubby tummy, her thighs and delectable arse. He is uncertain what he wants to do with her. Standing behind her he slaps her hard against the right cheek of her arse. She yelps with pain but more with surprise. He slaps her again. ‘More, more.’ She exclaims. ‘Harder.’ She begs. He slaps her several more times. Her skin reddens immediately. Carl pulls her legs further apart and kneels between her legs on all fours as she is. He slips his cock into her cunt as her forehead rests on the floor and takes up a slow rhythm of strokes. ‘Lets get on my bed. I want to fuck you face to face.’ ‘Ok.’ Agrees Carl unfastening himself from her and standing back. Vanessa rises to her feet grabs Carl by the cock and leads him into the bedroom. She sits on the side of the bed and with Carl still standing takes his cock in her mouth. ‘Would you prefer me to come in your mouth or in your cunt?’ He asks considerately. ‘In my cunt.’ She affirms and lies back. ‘Come on baby. Ride me.’ She invites him. Carl scrambles onto the bed and lifts her legs up and open under the knee, pushing them towards her face. He rises from his knees into a half squat, his cock at roughly a hundred and twenty degree angle from the perpendicular. As he thrusts down he pushes onto her right calf and upper thigh, a rocking motion, churning the cream, keeping his balance. Like an express train he hurtles towards a climax. A thunderclap of an orgasm. ‘Have you done?’ Enquires Vanessa.

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‘Sure. What about you?’ ‘I was ahead of you.’ Carl is getting back on the bed after using the bathroom. ‘Did I say I used to run an escort agency?’ ’No. When was this.’ He is intrigued. ‘Till a year ago. Then I fancied a change.’ ‘And there was me thinking me you took a chunk out of the marriage.’ ‘That’s when I got my degree in alcohol abuse.’ Rues Vanessa. ‘It was a good time. I still see a few of the girls. And the men.’ ‘It wasn’t called Vanessa’s Flowers was it?’ ‘The Incarnate Rose Escort Agency.’ ‘That’s an enigmatic name.’ ‘That’s what a boyfriend said to me.”Vanessa, you are an incarnate rose.”’ ‘I guess you are.’ ‘Carl Langdon.’ He speaks into the phone. 'Hello. This is Donna. We met at the healing group. I came to your group and you spoke to me.’ A hesitant female. ‘Donna. Of course. How are you?’ Carl calls up her image on his inner screen. Runs a short video sequence. Attractive, bent slightly off-centre nose, a bit flash, silly girl-ish voice. Would probably scream having a good orgasm. ‘I would like to come and see you. Talk about healing and anything else I ought to know.’ ‘If you like but we will have to make an appointment. Do you work?’ ‘No, I am recuperating. That’s what my friend says.’ ‘Its nearly the weekend so it will have to be next week.’ ‘I could come tomorrow. Will be that possible?’ ‘Ok. Eleven. No make it ten. You have my address. It will cost forty pound for the session. Wear something loose in case I want to have you on the couch. For healing.’ ‘Bye.’ ‘Bye.’ Soon after Vanessa phones to say she is off, driving to St Dolphinius. Carl assures her he will visit. Next he phones Cathy and learns that she went to the dance class last night. He invites her out to the pub to meet up with Doug and Petra later. Already breakfasted and ablutions done Carl is ready for his first call of the day. He attempts to wipe pigeon shit off the windscreen but succeeds in spreading not removing. Five minutes of water and wipers and its as good as it is going to get. For now. Reversing out in the drive he narrowly avoids budging a passing cyclist. ‘Shit!’ He curses to his self, parks at the curb and strolls back into the house to reappear twenty seconds later. He drives off. The Estate is amongst the best of the several mixed council and private housing estates in the Bournemouth area. Generally clean and tidy, apart from those persons who profess to be mechanics and to prove it have four to six dilapidated motors in their garden and the adjacent grass verges including their Sunday special for ‘banger racing.’ It is outside such a house that Carl comes to a stop. He negotiates the two autos parked in the drive, one with no doors the other no wheels, by jumping over a flowerbed and

walking on the overgrown lawn. The air smells of motor oil and petrol. He opens the front door and steps into the hall closing the door behind him. ‘Joanne. It’s Carl. Where are you?’ ‘In the living room, where else.’ Comes back the reply. Joanna is laying on the sofa a crossword puzzle book and dictionary on her lap. She is in her late forties, pale and thin, her lustrous black hair fading and streaked with grey. The tv is on low tuned into a shopping channel. ‘Come to rape me have you? Make an old woman happy.’ ‘You are not old Joe. I don’t think your boyfriends would be too happy about.’ ‘I should be so lucky. Help me into my wheelchair will you I need to use the loo.’ Carl notices the ashtray next to her half filled with cigarette butts. Her wheelchair is at the feet end of the sofa. ‘Will I have to wipe you?’ He half pulls half lifts her into the wheelchair. ‘Cheeky bugger. If that would give you a thrill you must be desperate.’ Carl leaves her in the loo and returns to the living room. It is in a mess. He clears away a pile of newspapers and mags from a chair and sits down. He picks up the Daily Mail and has a browse through the paper. ‘Fury at toxic fleet.’ Deserves a read and an opinion generated. ‘Sorry US we don’t want your crap.’ Is approved unanimously. ‘After those waif days, Geri looks swell again.’ ‘Looking busty and generally more rounded.’ ‘I would agree with that.’ Thinks Carl. ‘Houdini Hoaxer.’ Carl is impressed. ‘A thirty million dollar house? Shit’ Carl can hear banging in the hall way. ‘She must be finished.’ ‘How’s it going Joanna?’ ‘This is not one of my best days. I feel So depressed. I am so weak and tired I can barely move. If I could walk I’d go in the kitchen and put my head in the gas oven.’ ‘Do the drugs help at all.’ Says Carl sitting of the edge of the sofa and holding her hand ‘Beta interferon this, anti-depressant. I think they all cancel out each other.’ ‘Your speech is better today. And I see that the cigarette butts are mostly in the ashtray. Have you been for physiotherapy recently?’ ‘I haven’t even been to bingo with Joyce and Maggie for weeks.’ ‘Ok. Just close your eyes Joanna, take a few deep breaths and relax. Let the healing begin’. ‘It may take awhile to kick in but I hope you will see an improvement over the next couple of days. Shall I make us a cup of tea.’ ‘Bring in those chocolate biscuits from the cupboard next to where the mugs are?’ ‘So where are the boys?’ Asks Carl setting down the teas and biscuits on the low coffee table after first clearing a space. ‘You mean Kevin and Gavin. Out on a call in the mobile garage. Do you want to see them?’ ‘I wouldn’t mind them having a look at the engine.' ‘They’ll be back soon.’

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‘Does Bill still come round to see you? ’He dunks a chocolate biscuit. ‘He only comes round when he’s skint or not getting enough at home.’ ‘I thought you said you wasn’t going to let him anymore.’ ‘What can I do? He comes round and screws me and takes me out to the New Forest for a couple of hours and buys me a meal. With my money mind you. But who else wants me. He’s had the snip so no repercussions. Kevin and Gavin never take me anywhere. They are always busy working and getting on with their own lives. My sisters are my life line’ ‘It is difficult for you. You have your needs the same as anyone else. I read a report by a Doctor Hawkes in which he suggests that MS may be a sexually transmitted disease.’ ‘I have never heard that before. No matter how you get it there is no cure for it. I need a complete re-wiring.’ ‘How have the spasms and cramps been recently?’ ‘I have been prescribed levetiracetam to help with those. And it does help but I get some awful headaches.’ ‘Do you fancy a smoke.’ ‘You little devil. Go on then. I think you are trying to cheer me up.’ ‘Am I doing a good job?’ ‘You are. Why don’t you put a record on?’ ‘A Bob Dylan?’ ‘No. I’m in a Velvet Underground mood. Or I will be shortly. Help me sit up will you darling.’ Carl is driving back from the local hospital where he has given healing to an inpatient who had asked for the services of a healer. He was involved in a car accident and quite shaken up, and having had healing in his own home town previously thought that healing would help with his recovery. Carl thought so too. The grateful man had given him a twenty pound donation from his wallet. Although it has not been Ann Baintree who rang him he has had the good fortune to talk to her for a few minutes and ask her to go out on a date with him next week. She replies in the affirmative. Carl is in an ebullient mood on the way to Cathy’s for earlier he has received news from Rose Carpenter’s Lawyer and Executor that he will shortly be receiving a cheque for the sum of £23, 389.04p. Not only but also a further £50,000 on completion of the sales of her house and effects. ‘So, what are we having? Asks Carl as they reach the bar of Dante’s Inferno Wine Bar; a pub in all but name. Dartboard down one end, slots in the middle and pool table at the other end, in the extension. They do play good classic rock tracks over the PA. ‘A pint of Carlsberg Export for myself and my good lady and a lemonade for the wife.’ ‘Up yours.’ Remarks Petra whilst giving Doug a dig with her elbow. ‘Cathy. Light of my Life. And for thee.’ ‘Martini and lemonade for me Squire.’ She replies playfully. Carl is pleased that she is relaxed. ‘There’s a table over there.' Indicating a corner. ‘The band should be in soon.’ Remarks Doug drowning a third of a pint. ‘Good day at work?’ asks Carl.

‘Yeah fabulous. I know a couple of these lads, played a gig or two with them. They are not bad. Rather Oasis-sounding but OK. The band start arriving and setting up their gear where the pool table had resided. ‘Your Cathy looks like a nice girl. Not too nice for you is she?’ ‘I am in the process of knocking on a few edges. I’m training her.’ ‘Going to put her on the game? I tried to persuade Petra to turn a few tricks but she wouldn’t wash it.’ ‘I should think not?’ ‘You have anything else going on the side, someone with a mate. Let me know.’ ‘Yeah. I’ll let you know. Are you getting them in?’ ‘You’re fast tonight.’ ‘Drink slow, drive slow. That could be the name of your first album.’ Music and motion. Not packed tonight but enough to create an ambience. The drunk who staggers up to the area designated ‘stage’ and plays air guitar badly and insists on singing in a loud voice ‘smoke on the water’ even when he is dragged away and out by the six foot six landlord to a round of applause helps form the illusion. ‘How does it feel now?’ Asks Carl sliding over to talk to Petra given the opportunity with Cathy in the loo and Dougie chatting with the band in the interval. Petra is momentarily flustered. ‘What. My condition?’ ‘You could call it a condition but it’s usually referred to as a broken ankle. Is it still broken?’ ‘Oh. Yeah. It wasn’t broken just fractured.’ ‘You will have to be careful now then.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So you don’t fall downstairs again.’ ‘Oh yeah.’ ‘Are you alright. Do you want a top up?’ ‘Yes I’m fine and yes I do. ‘You do. Shall we elope or having an illegal wedding in the church?’ ‘Stop it you fool.’ Carl makes his way to the bar and glances back at Petra. She is doing a roll-up. Wild ginger hair, dangly ear-rings, a dull purple cardigan over a dark patterned long dress and Doc Marten boots. 'Ride a white swan' comes to mind when he thinks about her which isn’t often. ‘I bet she keeps Doug up late most nights.’ Carl lingers on the thought. ‘Yes mate. What do you want?’ Asks the barman. ‘Ok. A pint and a half of Carlsberg Export please. And a double southern on the rocks with a splash of orange squash.’ ‘Do you want a cherry with that?’ ‘Why not. Knock yourself out.’ 'She reminds me of a wild highland woman. Something of the Boadicea about her brandishing her breasts and broadsword and cutting a swathe through those sissy Roman soldiers with their dental floss and nail clippers. Her bare flesh slashed with blue woad. A sprig of heather behind each ear. Woad of any bright colours, a fighting female abstract paint…’ ‘That’s six seventy five mate.’ Carl pulls out his wallet and pays the man. The band start

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up again. ‘Here we are?’ ‘There was something I wanted to ask you Carl. Its about the window in the front room. The wood frame has just about rotted away. I’ve phoned up Mulligan several times and he says it will be taken care of. But it’s not and this time of year.’ Carl helps himself to her tin of tobacco and starts to roll one. ‘I understand. I will get onto those fucking agents and tell them to get it sorted. Now. Ok. So no need to worry. See you later.’ He lights his roll-up and sits by Cathy. ‘I want to go Carl. Its too hot and smoky in here.’ ‘Soon Cathy. Take your coat off. I want to talk to Doug first. There he is.' Doug sits down and Carl joins him. Carl observes that Cathy has taken off her off white short coat and now is sitting pretty looking quite desirable in her dark blue jumper and blue jeans. Doug looks resplendent in his black t-shirt, jeans and brown leather waistcoat. The archetypal roadie. ‘Petra seems to have a cob on at the moment.’ Remarks Carl with concern. ‘Petra. She’s alright. Just a bit weepy these days. I am sure she won’t mind me telling you that we are going to have a baby. She’s pregnant. About three months. She’s probably telling Cathy now. Women like to share.’ ‘Have you plans? That flat is not suitable for a baby with those stairs.’ ‘We are hoping to be put on the council house waiting list. A baby on the way should help our application.’ ‘Sure. I might know someone who can put in a good word for you.’ ‘Really?’ ‘I know a few people.' ‘Petra. Petra tell Carl about my original idea.’ Doug takes a big draught of his pint. ‘An original idea. Interesting. Is it patented?’ ‘At dinner time we were talking about ideas and how everything has been thought before and so is second-hand then Doug ‘ere comes up with this idea. He thinks its an original idea.’ ‘How will we be able to rectify whether its an original idea? Whether anyone else has thought this idea.’ Puts in Cathy. ‘Good point.’ Admits Doug. ‘Do you want me to say what the original idea is or do you want to do it Doug?’ ‘You do it.’ ‘Sometimes, out shopping or just driving we see different plain young white women pushing a half caste child in a pushchair. Maybe the black husband or boyfriend is at work or at home and we just happen to see these women just with the child. Enough times to notice. So Brainbox here comes up with an explanation. And this is the original idea. You have to picture this. There are these lonely low-self-esteem women who want to have a, a mixed race child. Now you would think that each of them finds themselves a black guy and gets pregnant then whatever. However Doug’s idea is that there is this kind of sub-conscious network, you know a frequency being transmitted which these women are able to tune into. There is this black guy who sits in his room and broadcasts telepathically his presence which draws these woman to him and he screws them, gets them pregnant and off they go. So all these woman that you see in the streets, they have all been impregnated by the same black guy. All the kids are his children and so they are

all brothers and sisters.’ ‘That’s quite original.’ Admits Carl. ‘Let me shake the hand of the man who came up with the original idea. Your round Cathy I believe. Only joking, Ok. I’ll have my SC. Pint? Pint? That’s Export. Southern Comfort, A double. With a splash of orange squash. Not OJ. I'm off to the loo.’ A few minutes later and Cathy says to Doug. ‘How do we know it’s true. We can’t possibly know.’ ‘It doesn’t have to be true Cathy. It’s a genuine gold star original idea. It is credible, it stands in its own right.’ States Carl. ‘So do flying sauces, I mean saucers. Gypsies!’ ‘Don’t start Doug on gypsies.’ Cautions Petra. ‘What do you mean Cathy?' Asks Carl. ‘Only if it is true that they all drive Mercedes and live in luxurious Winnebagos with satellite tv?’ ‘And? This is apropos of what? Queries Carl. ‘An idea. A maxim, an assumption.’ ‘The original assumption.’ Chips in Petra. ‘The floors all yours Doug.’ Says Carl. ‘A mate of mine’s house backs onto Kings Park and when the gypsies were camped their last Christmas his house was broken into and his tv, video and digi-cam were stolen.’ ‘Were they caught?’ Asks Cathy. ‘No. He never got his stuff back. If I was the Chief Constable living in a future fascist state and these gypsies set up anywhere in the area I would encircle the encampment at night with police armed with machine guns and flamethrowers and accompanied by nasty snarling dogs. Move in and shoot all the men and round up the woman and kids. Torch the encampment and send the woman to work as whores in a brothel in Albania and the kids to an orphanage in the Outer Hebrides.’ Doug looks around as if expecting a round of approval. ‘An interesting idea Doug.’ ‘Its horrible.’ Exclaims Cathy. ‘Its not going to happen.’ Adds Petra. ‘Its not going to happen.’ Repeats Carl in his head. On his internal screen Carl conjures up the image of himself laying naked on his back being straddled by Petra with her wild splaying ginger hair, streaked in blue paint, tits a bouncing, thrusting down hard on his cock and screaming ‘come you bastard, come.’’ ‘Carl. Carl. I want to go now.’ 'Cathy wants to go so we are cutting it short.’ ‘It’s nearly closing time so we will stay till kicking out time. Here.’ Says Doug going into his waistcoat pocket and pulling out a small package which he hands to Carl. ‘You should read ‘Killing Pablo’ it’s a great story. We are all in the wrong business. ‘See ya. Are you ready then Cathy. Nice to see you Petra.’ Leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Cathy does like-wise. ‘As its not raining I think we should have a walk along the prom, to clear our heads. Its fresh out. What did you think of the band?’ He asks as they cross the road. ‘They were quite good. I liked a few of their numbers. You had better let me drive.’ She says taking his keys from him. She gets in and lets in Carl.

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‘I’ll have to adjust the seat.’ She drives off. ‘Petra told you she is pregnant I presume?’ ‘Yes of course. We had a good talk about babies’ ‘What do you know about babies?’ Carl queries. ‘I know a lot. I’ve had a great deal to do with June and her kids. I have babysitted for them many times.’ ‘I never knew.’ ‘You wouldn’t be interested.’ ‘True.’ ‘I like Petra. She’s a little scary to look at but she’s sweet.’ ‘I would never have put Petra and sweet together myself. She is scary. I can imagine her in . .’ ‘I bet you can.’ They arrive at Boscombe Pier. A few people around but not many though there is much activity in the bars. ‘Lets go this way, to the left.’ Suggests Carl putting Cathy’s arm through his as they descend the modest decline onto the promenade. ‘Do you know someone who might help them to get on the council list? The waiting list?’ ‘I’ll see what I can do. They need new windows however long they are going to be there. Double-glazing. I’ll pop the invoice in when its done.’ They fall into silence for several minutes, breathing in that air with a slightly ozone tang, black sky peppered by the occasional star. The moon being briefly obscured by a cloud. This could be two people in love, walking the wide promenade arm in arm. A night to think big thoughts. ‘Look there’s a seat over there.’ Carl points vaguely in the direction of the rear side of the prom away from the beach perhaps twenty five metres. ‘That looks like a bench. Lets take a breather.’ ‘We have only been walking two minutes.’ ‘I need a cigarette and yes I know I smoke too much.’ They sit down. Carl lights up a cigarette. ‘This is nice.’ States Cathy. Carl put his arm around her shoulder feeling warm towards her. ‘See those stars there? Up there. That’s the Aquarius Constellation.’ ‘Is it?’ With his other hand, his left, Carl takes hold of Cathy’s hand and puts it on her knee, gives it a little squeeze and moves their conjoined hands onto his knee. ‘Cathy’. Says Carl and she responds by lifting her head a little and he kisses her long and hard. She opens her mouth and in darts his tongue. He release his left hand and brings it to Cathy’s chest where he feels her up over her jumper, her coat being open. Still kissing he returns his hand to her hand on his right knee and gently directs it to his crotch. ‘I want you to suck me off Cathy.’ Says Carl bringing his head back to the vertical. ‘What, what if someone comes along?’ ‘What are they going to say 'can we join in?' ‘Some big hairy guy might come along and bum you. You remember the sailors scene in Black Adder?’

‘That was funny. I’ll keep a look-out.’ Says Carl. ‘You are hard work Cathy?' He thinks. Reluctantly Cathy pulls out his cock and begins the sucking of. With Cathy’s head bobbing up and down he keeps watch overhead. He sees, then hears a couple passing but they take no notice though Cathy does pause for a few seconds in her ministrations. She holds him with one hand whilst sucking, feeling the head of his prick rubbing against the roof of her mouth. ‘Ooh. That’s nice.’ He gives a few mild pelvic thrusts to keep it interactive which spurs her on to purse her lips like she is trying to suck the last of a particularly thick milkshake up a straw. From base to tip she purses him. Then slowly down and up again. A jogger noisily passes by. The moon comes out from behind a cloud. Carl strokes and smoothes her hair. Cathy is sucking enthusiastically, slurp, slurp. He utters a few ‘aah’s and pumps his spunk into her mouth which she allows to sliver down her throat. ‘Ah.’ Carl say again. ‘That was creamy. How did I do? ’Asks Cathy sitting upright and wiping her mouth with a tissue from her coat pocket. ‘I would say a seven.’ ‘Is that all. I thought at least an eight.’ ‘Tries hard but could do better.’ Chapter 9: Rather a conventional dresser Carl is wearing grey slacks a white shirt and a long-sleeved, v-necked burgundy coloured pull-over competing the outfit today. On His left wrist is a gold coloured inexpensive Sekonda watch and on his middle finger of his right hand he is adorned with a gold ring inset with an amethyst. He sits in the kitchen at the oak table, a radio chatshow on in the background, browsing through the latest WebUser magazine and considering the viability of an on-line Psychotherapy website prior to going into town to pay a few bills and visit the Central Library. Someone at the door. ‘Hullo Donna. Come on through.’ This is a nice place.’ Comments Donna as Carl shows her into the therapy room. ‘Thank you. Take a seat.’ About five foot eight, in her mid-twenties Donna is quite striking. Wearing a black beret, brown blouse tight against her thrusting breasts, short black skirt, brown high-heeled shoes and black stockings. A brown shoulder bag on a long leash hanging at her hip. Claddagh earrings. Modest aquiline nose, brown eyes, the kind of face that makes cheekbones fashionable chiselled from alabaster. ‘A lady of the night from a French B movie or perhaps the leader of a resistance cell.' Imagines Carl. ‘You look very nice.’ Says Carl, thinking ‘Is this her comfortable clothes?’ ‘You have a lot of certificates. You must be very intelligent?' ‘So do you have questions or shall I give you a brief outline of what I do and hope to achieve?’ ‘Yes.’ She pauses.

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‘I have some questions for you me and me friend wrote down, you know.’ She chews with sincerity. ‘I don’t want to be pedantic but put your gum in the bin please. There. You have questions? Good.’ Carl replaces the bin. ‘Give her a slap.’ He thinks good-humouredly. Meanwhile Donna is prising open her bag and retrieving a slip of paper. ‘The gum I was chewing is to help me give up smoking. I am using the patches as well.’ ‘Are they working?' ‘Some days I’m patching, chewing and smoking so I must be a nervous wreck. Anyway. First is? Is spiritual healing anything to do with spiritualism?’ She looks pleased with herself. ‘No, not with me though there are many spiritualists who are also healers. I don’t contact the dead I have enough problems with the living.’ He quips. She laughs. ’Is it anything to do with acupuncture?’ They are sitting opposite to each a low coffee separating them. Donna crosses one leg over the other exposing a nice expanse of thigh. ‘Good one. Acupuncture uses needles and I use my hands only. However they are both working from the same philosophy or blueprint as it were of the non-material body. Hold on. I will explain. In and around the body are what are called chakras which are energy centres. Why are you laughing?’ ’Trish and I had an Indian take-away the other night and I’m sure we had chakras with our rogan josh.’ Carl laughs. You are on the right track. Chakras is an Indian word for these energy centres.’ ‘Is it anything to do with shitzu?’ Asks Donna straight-faced. ‘As well as these energy centres there are channels connecting them called meridians and if the energy flowing along them gets obstructed then there can be problems. You know about cholesterol and the arteries? Well its somewhat like that. Shiatsu is a more physical approach to healing.’ He finishes lamely. Carl is aware of Donna’s eyes glazing over and decides to cut it short.’ ‘Can I have a glass of water?’ ‘Of course.’ He fetches a jug of water and a glass, returns and pours her a glass. ‘I am not a psychic so tell me about your self.’ ’My name is Donna Carletti and I’m from London. Lewisham. And ‘I have stars in my eyes.’ Haha.’ ‘You’re amusing. Whereabouts in Lewisham? I know the area fairly well.’ ‘We lived near Mountfield Park.’ ‘It’s a nice area. Also handy for Catford Greyhound Stadium. Do you go to the dogs?’ ‘Yes of course, sometimes. I have also been to watch the tennis at Wimbledon. Do you need to know all this?’ ‘I am acquainting myself with you Donna. Trying to get you to relax.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘Did you go to visit the Dome? I did.’ ‘Yes I did. Perhaps we were there on the same day. You do look familiar.’ ‘A lot of people say that about me. I am the blueprint for certain types of faces I guess.’ He smiles a toothy smile. ‘Did you know that the clock tower was erected in 1897 to commemorate the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria’s reign?’

‘Funny enough I do know that. I like all that old stuff. History.’ ‘Let’s move on now. Marital status?’ ‘Twenty seven and separated.’ She smiles weakly and starts to cry as the personal significance rushes up on her. Boo. Carl pushes the box of tissues towards her. ‘Let it out Donna.’ Carl waits patiently. ‘I’m sorry.’ Drying her eyes. ‘I don’t need to here your complete life history, fascinating as it no doubt is, but I do need to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?’ She nods. ‘Are you on any medication?’ ‘Prozac.’ ‘For how long?’ ‘Three months.’ ‘Any recent medical history that is relevant to why you are here?’ ‘I’ve had a miscarriage, my father in-law died and I am depressed.’ ‘You’ve been on Prozac only since your miscarriage?’ ‘God yes. I’m not a drug addict.’ ‘Has it helped?’ ’Not much. I am probably only on a low dose.’ ’Ok. You need to continue with the medication unless your doctor says otherwise. Now I want to tell you something and I want you to think about it. Now or later. You have had several recent traumas in your life which you are coming to terms with. You cannot change what has happened to you, obviously. But it is appropriate to feel how you do.’ ‘What do you mean? How is it appropriate?’ ‘Crying, being emotionally sensitive is a healthy response. Sometimes we have to experience the pain to be able to move on. We don’t forget what we felt but we create a buffer, over a time, that dulls the pain. That’s what people do.’ ‘What does that mean?’ ‘You will not always feel like shit. How do you feel now?’ ‘I’m not crying.’ ’What I suggest we do now is you get on the couch and I’ll give you healing.’ ‘I had better go to the loo first.’ ‘Go into the hall and left up the stairs, it’s the first on the left.’ Carl directs. ‘I wont be long. Don’t start without me?’ She smiles a bright smile. ‘I might as well skip the healing therapy and fuck her now.’ Thinks Carl. But chides himself for the thought. ‘Never on the job on the job.’ As Stewart so eloquently puts it. He sits and waits. Donna returns brushing down her skirt, sans beret and sits on the edge of the couch and swings her backside round then lays back on the pillow. ‘With or without? The pillow.’ ‘With thank you.’ ‘All I want you to do is take a few deep breaths, relax and think of pleasant things. A place perhaps where you were very happy, a person or a personal keepsake. I will be touching you at certain points on your body, starting with your head and working down to your feet.’ Carl’s voice is softer and deeper now. ‘I will be talking to you, taking you on a mental journey but you don’t have to follow everything I say. Just relax as I put my hands either side of your head.’ Carl closes his

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eyes, mumbles something to himself; a prayer perhaps. Focuses and begins. ‘She does look good flat on her back.’ Observes Carl. ‘That perfume is distracting.’ He breaths in the scent of her. ‘Imagine you are lying on your bed at night with the lights out. You gaze up to the ceiling and it slides away to the side and all you can see is the night sky. The star filled night sky. You look at the stars and notice than one star looks bigger, shines brighter than all the others. As you become aware of this the star glows brighter and bigger. This is your star. Your own personal benevolent star. This sphere of light, this ball of pure white energy, healing and cleansing energy is stationary positioned by the top of your head. Visualise this cleansing energy flowing into you through your head, down your arms, flowing across your chest and stomach and along your legs. You feel calm and cleansed. Take a deep breath and absorb this energy into the very core of your being. Let it wash over and through you. And now.’ Ten minutes later. ‘And now imagine a green energy flowing through your body. Have you been having stomach and chest complaints?’ ‘How did you know? Blimey. I went to the doctor and he prescribed Ranitidine and said that I was suffering from a post-rheumatic disorder. How did you know? That’s a pretty neat trick.’ Donna has sat up now. ‘It is not a trick Donna. Your solar plexus and heart charkas are out of balance. We shall talk about it. Do you want to carry on?’ ‘No. I would rather talk.’ ‘Lets sit back where we were.’ ‘You are a, whatchamacallit, psychic, no medium?’ ‘Donna, are you taking the piss?’ ‘No really. I think you are gifted. I am impressed.’ ‘I do not have dealings with the dead. Nor am I a Satan worshipper, nor did I vote for the Nazi Party during the nineteen thirty six general election.’ ‘Keep ya ‘air on mister. Can I have a cup of coffee now?’ ‘Ok. Take a five minute break.’ Carl busies himself in the kitchen and returns with the mugs of coffee, a spoon and sugarbowl on a silver rectangular tray. ‘Have you noticed any changes in your behaviour recently? Maybe how you get along with others.’ ‘I seem to be rowing with everyone these day. I am all over the shot.’ ’Have you been aggressive with anyone? Maybe feeling competitive. Even jealous. I wouldn’t be surprised. Your heart and navel charkas are over-active which can bring out the less pleasant aspect of someone’s personality. Apart from what it could do to them, on the physical,’ ‘Am I sick?’ ‘No, no. You are off balance. We must calm down your feelings and boost a few of the other charkas. Some fine tuning.’ ‘That’s why I had that flaming row with Laurie which was rather spectacular.’ She wipes several fingers across her forehead. ‘Did he hit you? Beat you up?’ ‘Nooo. It would be the death of him if he did. It nearly was.’ ‘Mmmuh.’

‘I felt a lot of heat coming from your hands and I felt a warm glow inside. You have healing hands. Do you want to see me again?’ ‘If it will be of benefit to you. And you pay me for this session.’ ‘Sorry. Of course.’ She dips into her handbag and removes two twenty pound notes from her purse and hands it to him. ‘Its been a long time since I paid to be serviced. No that’s not right.’ ‘Twelve on Tuesday, ok for you?’ Carl is whistling out of tune an old Rolling Stones’ number, ‘she’s a rainbow’ as he fetches the bike from the shed. Despite not being a diy fanatic he has a well equipped workshop installed including welding gear, an industrial home furnace (as seen on tv),and an anvil. Bought in a period during which he wished to flex his creative muscle in the metal sculpture form the workshop as a concept lay unused, withered like fruit on the tree of ideas. He had enjoyed installing it all however. But now he ignores the workshop, it is just the shed, where in resides the bike and the implements of gardening management. His mobile chirps into life. ‘Cathy! Hi. Going for a cycle ride. Yeah, Mmm. Ok. You pick me up in twenty minutes. What? What are the choices? No, you’ll be alright. You look nice in a skirt.’ ‘Where shall we go?’ Somewhere nice. A quaint village deep in the heart of the Dorset Countryside. Somewhere like Cerne Abbas.’ Suggests Carl. ‘That’s miles away. I have never been there. Do you know the way?’ ‘I have my AA route planner.’ ‘We had that when we went on our retreat trip.’ ‘How are you getting on with getting in tune with the Goddess within? ‘Good. Life has a, a ripple in it recently.’ ‘When we climb the Giant perhaps you will feel the God inside you.’ ‘That’s sound ominous. You’re not going to make a human sacrifice out of me are you?’ ‘So, head for Tower Park.’ ‘Here’s Long Street. The pub is closed. Pity. Do a left into Duck Street and we should be able to park and find an access route.’ Says Carl an hour later. Cathy is wearing a long dark green raincoat over a wheat coloured long skirt, with brown knee length boots and a light blue ‘riders of the purple sage’ sweatshirt. Late afternoon. A few people around; mothers supervising young children, a gaggle of old dears going home chilled and excited after skinny-dipping in the Vicar’s Koi Carp Pond. They park up on the grass verge. Carl puts on his battered pilots’ jerkin preparing to get out. ‘Take your knickers off Cathy.’ ‘What? Now?’ ‘Yes. Slip them off and put them in your pocket.’ Any uncertainties Cathy has had about the theme of this afternoons sojourn has evaporated. ‘This way. We climb over the stile and up that hill.’ ‘It will ages to get up there Carl. Can’t we just look at the Giant from here?’ ‘It’s just not the same. The magic is up there. On Hercules unchained. Waving his club.’ ‘With his big prick.’ Cathy hitches her skirt up to her knees to climbs over. Carl follows her over and takes her hand. Twenty minutes later they have arrive. Although still early it is an overcast day though dry.

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‘Not much of a view on a day like this.’ Comments Cathy. They sit near the tip of the giant phallus. He takes off his jacket and lays it down for Cathy to sit on and sits on the edge himself. Lights a cigarette. ‘Well, here we are. It’s quiet isn’t it. It’s nice to get away for awhile.’ ‘The sound of silence. Not even a bird singing .’ ‘Did you know that couples sometimes come up here and make love so they can conceive. Couples who can’t just crack it? ‘Does it work?’ Asks Cathy. Carl flicks his cigarette butt downhill. ‘I don’t know. There is a touch of magic in the air or is it just the stirrings in my underpants. Don’t answer.’ Both sitting with their knees up, on a sharp incline. Carl puts his hand on Cathy’s knee and slowly pulls the skirt up her thigh, further and further, revealing her pale soft skin. He pushes her back onto the grass as his hand seeks her crotch. She sighs as his hand touches her vaginal opening and gasps as several fingers slip inside her. She pulls her skirt up out of the way, her bottom resting on her raincoat. Carl kneels between her legs, unzips himself and takes his cock in hand. Her shaved pussy awaits his pleasure as he feels his feet beginning to slide downwards. He kneels forward his cock meeting hardly any resistance until his balls slap into her. ‘Fuck me Carl. Give me a good fucking.’ Implores Cathy, already stimulated near to climax-point. Carl thrusts. Cathy squirms. ‘Your zip Carl. Its digging into me.’ Carl struggles to pull his jeans and boxers down without withdrawing but has no choice. He is laying on top of her now. Carl thrusts and Cathy emits a low moan from the back of her throat. Carl groans with pleasure and Cathy grips him tight. ‘I love you Carl.’ Utters Cathy with desperation as she kisses him passionately and her holistic orgasm ripples through her, wave after wave of pleasure. La petite mort. Carl shoots his load. ‘That was nice.’ Smiles Carl. He stands up, tucks and zips himself up. Cathy rearranges her clothes. ‘Lets hope you don’t get pregnant like the folk tales suggest. It would have to be pretty big magic to get someone on the pill preggers.’ Cathy smiles a wan smile. They hold hands as they descend. As they get nearer the bottom of the hill through patches in the trees they can see where they left Cathy’s Nissan Micra. ‘That looks like a police car parked next to mine. Bloody hell. We are going to be arrested. We shouldn’t have done it.’ Panics Cathy. ‘Calm down. Its probably only a parking ticket.’ Guesses Carl, confidently. They climb over the stile and onto the road. A few yards along there is the police car hemming in Cathy’s car. A female cop is standing next to the passengers side of Cathy’s Micra writing in a note book. ‘Is this your car sir?’ A big girl you wouldn’t want to fight with but could easily outrun. ‘Its mine officer.’ Steps forward Cathy. 'I am afraid that your car has been broken into and by the looks of it they took your radio.’ They approach the car and first see glass shards on the roadside then the smashed side window, followed by the debris on the passenger seat. ‘My radio/cd player.’ Corrects Cathy. ‘Shit!’ Utters Carl.

‘The healing group.’ ‘They will have to manage without you.’ Assures Cathy. ‘Have you any id madam?’ ‘Mind your ash.’ Cautions Cathy as she rises from the leather sofa to take the dishes and debris from the Indian take-away into the kitchen. ‘Good advice.’ Acknowledges Carl as he brushes off the fallen burning embers from his joint which are burning through his t-shirt. The credits for the movie are running. ‘Who is that?’ Asks Cathy returning to the room. ‘Joe Mackenzie I believe.’ ‘It’s haunting.’ She says sitting down again. ‘Quite an enjoyable film. There are some good action scenes depicting the horror of war. A small group of American soldiers with a big arsenal in their rucksacks combating 4000 Vietnamese soldiers with no rucksacks. I didn’t like the delivery of those telegrams whilst the battle is still raging but I guess it was done for dramatic effect.’ ‘Are you a film critic now?’ Questions Cathy. ‘No. but I can have an opinion. All that fear of Communism. And where is Communism now? Blowing in the wind. What do you think?’ ‘I agree with you.' ‘I do love your bedroom.’ Declares Cathy as she strips down to her turquoise knickers. Carl’s Japanese style bed with high headboard and low foot end is covered with a geometric-shaped, multi-coloured design duvet, purple and yellow predominant, with matching pillows and is positioned against one wall with the window on the right. Against the left wall is a large two-doored wardrobe, a chest of drawers with similar design and matching bedside cabinets either side of the bed. Opposite the bed there is a tv/video and stereo system on a shelf unit. Situated under the window is a three seater dark brown leather settee with coffee table. The window overlooks the street out front. The walls are white, dark brown parquet flooring. ‘But not as much as you love me.’ Adds Carl chucking his pants onto the settee. ‘I never knew you had such good taste.’ ‘I found you.’ He lies next to her on the bed stroking her inner thigh. ‘So we will go out for a meal on the eve of my birthday just you and I and meet up with the gang on the night of my birthday in the pub. Agreed?’ ‘Your gang. Shall I invite Doug and Petra along?’ Carl pulls Cathy’s knickers down and off. ‘They wont know anyone.’ ‘They know us. I’m just being awkward. Pedantic even.’ He rubs her shaven crotch. ‘You just like winding me up.’ ‘Don’t I just.’ He admits as he kisses her. She responds passionately, her tongue darting into his mouth then lingering. From her lips Carl’s kisses transfer to first her left breast then her right. His tongue trails down her abdomen to her navel where he abides awhile. ‘Anticipation is fifty percent of the fun.’ Thinks Carl. ‘Open you legs Cathy. Don’t be shy. Chuck me a pillow.’ She complies and he places the pillow under her buttocks. ‘I don’t think you ever come when I’m licking you out. Do you like it?’ ‘Of course I do. I just need more stimulation. I like to feel you inside me.’ He starts licking around her shaven mound of venus, descends to and opens up her

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vulva with tongue and finger slowly. With several flicks of his tongue her clitoris pops out from under the hood and he slowly and gently licks her. Cathy squirms a little and says nothing. ‘Is it sensitive there?’ He asks considerately. ‘A little.’ ‘I’ll come back to that.’ He promises. He places the palm of his left hand on her mons veneris and inserts several fingers into her tight cunt egressing then ingressing for several minutes. ‘Neat and tidy that is you Cathy. I wonder if your character would change after you had had a kid or two. A female is not really a woman till she has her cervix ratcheded wide open. Who said that to me?’ Muses Carl. Then probing, exploring he rotates his fingers, forward and back and around. He searches for a spot about two inches in on the front wall of her vagina presses with his two finger tips in a circular motion, then side to side, searching for Cathy’s holy grail. A slightly raised area. ‘Why is it that woman take so long, are so disorganised? Whether it’s at the checkout in the supermarket or in bed it takes them ages to get their shit together. Not all women surely. That’s a generalization Carl. A maxim.’ ‘That’s nice.’ She gasps excitedly, as if she has received a mild electric shock. ‘Hand me a couple more pillows your arse is sinking into the duvet.’ Carl continues his fingering whilst he takes Cathy’s clit in his lips and sucks on it, then flicking over and around. As Carl continues his ministrations her vulva becomes engorged with blood and turns from a light to a darker shade of pink. He licks and sucks her and she responds with gasps and ‘ooh’s and ‘aaahhh’s. Her clit enlarges as her vagina releases a discharge, her bum muscles contract as do her stomach muscles whilst Carl’s fingering and short sharp flicks of his tongue brings her to a thundering almost epileptic climax. ‘That was a virtuoso performance on my clit.’ Approves Cathy some minutes later. ‘You are my expert lover. Shall I suck you off?’ She adds. A cup of coffee and an hour later Cathy is on her back once again, this time on a fluffy rug, with her knees six inches away from touching her shoulders, as Carl squats over her with his prick pistoning into her fanny, his hands supporting himself pressing against her calves, in a rocking motion. Because he is peaking towards orgasm his mind replays a similar scene with Vanessa, comparing her looser cunt with the tighter one of Cathy. He awards six marks to Cathy and eight to Vanessa but it is academic as he is going to come anyway. Despite her good acting he is aware Cathy is not genuinely responsive. With verbal warning signals he shoots his load explosively and with great satisfaction. They separate like two wary combatants. He can tell she is miffed. ‘You don’t like churning the cream Cathy, do you?’ ‘I didn’t feel connected with you that’s all. You enjoyed it, that’s the main thing.’ ‘Let’s see what’s on the tele.’ He replies. ‘Are you going to the Centre tomorrow morning?’ ‘Yes. I think I will attend. Why do you ask?’ ‘I would like to come with you.’ ‘Ok. I want to have a word with Stewart as he knows a lot of people. Councillors and such like.’ ‘Good. Are you going to drive me home soon? I feel tired.’’

Chapter 10: Carl has the ‘high fidelity’ movie soundtrack cd on as he drives through Canford Cliffs, past the gardens of Compton Acres and onto Haven Road where he slows down and pulls into the drive leading up to St. Dolphinius’s Hospital, the local mental health facility. It is a cold but sunny day so Carl is dressed in his brown leather pilots jacket over a grey polo-neck sweater with accompanying blue denims with brown Chelsea boots. He had earlier imagined himself greeting Vanessa with a big bunch of flowers in his hand but had thought she has probably had enough of flowers. He pauses in reception to read the signs and makes his way in the requisite direction. Up the stairs and along the corridor. Outside Brownsea ward Carl presses a buzzer and is buzzed in. He enters. There is a lounge room off to his right and next are several offices and beyond the main part of the ward. Sitting at a desk in the glass fronted office is a male nurse in white jacket doing a crossword puzzle. ‘I am visiting Vanessa Penwithy. Is she in?’ ‘Your name sir?’ ‘Carl Langdon.’ ‘If you would like to wait in the lounge I’ll see if she is available.’ Carl about turns and is buzzed out and into the lounge. ‘They could do with an interior decorator in here.’ Considers Carl as he looks round the sparsely furnished lounge. A beaten up sofa, two moth-eaten armchairs, several green plastic picnic chairs, a cigarette scarred coffee table and a tv set on the wall, showing an old ‘streets of san francisco’ episode. With a nice view of the back lawn and the bushes and trees further back. Facing south. To the sea. He smokes a cigarette, stubs it out paces a little. The muted volume of the tv, muffled sounds from the corridor, behind the locked door. ‘Its very quiet here. Where is everyone? Comatose by drug-therapy? The door buzzes and here appears Vanessa looking as if has just left her chalet to come to the bar in a swish Swiss ski-resort. Tight red jumper, black leggings tucked into khaki calf socks and a pair of big dangly red circular plastic ear-rings. ‘Darling Carl. So good to see you.’ Carl grimaces and mentally takes a step back finding her effusiveness and pretentiousness slightly distasteful. They kiss lightly. ‘We are not strangers dear. I’ve had my face in your fanny.’ He speaks to himself. ‘Let me get my coat so we can get out of here.’ At the rear of the garden Vanessa shows him a gate and beyond a path that descends the cliff face down to the prom below. She has slipped on a three quarter length sheepskin coat and is wearing a brightly coloured floppy beret favoured by individuals of a West Indian personality. And hiking boots. ‘Flaghead Chine.’ Says Vanessa. ‘I prefer Earl Grey.’ They take the steps cautiously as the way is steep. ‘Do you miss my tits and fanny?’ enquires Vanessa. ‘You have the knack of speaking directly to my cock.’ Declares Carl. ‘I don’t believe for a minute that I’m the only one you get it from. You are heading for a whole lot of trouble.’

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‘What do you mean. Are you threatening me?’ ‘I’m psychic. Let me read your palm.’ ‘Fuck off. How are you coping? What medication have they got you on?’ They arrive at the bottom of the steps and turn left along the prom. ‘I’m on Chlordiazepoxide in the day and something to help me sleep at night. I was a little shaky for a few days. I couldn’t get warm like I was in a big deep freeze.’ ‘You are looking well. Good enough to eat.’ ‘One has to make an effort.’ She concedes. ‘Lets go on the beach and see if a pirates treasure chest has washed up.’ Suggests Carl. They cross the sand to the water line, the tide slowly coming in and walk along each to their own thoughts. Carl observes a woman some distance away throwing what appears to be a human arm up into the air and being caught my a large grey dog. ‘That’s a beautiful dog.’ Remarks Carl as they get nearer. ‘It’s a Weimaraner.’ Informs Vanessa. ‘I knew you would know.’ ‘They are lovely dogs though they are high-spirited and need plenty of exercise. We had one until it got knocked over by a train.’ ‘Your kidding.’ Laughs Carl. ‘Seriously. Von Richtofen we called him.’ ‘Tell me more.’ ’Not now. I don’t want to think of sad things. I bet I can throw further than you.’ ‘What are the other guests in your locked ward like? Any mad, bad and dangerous to know?’ ‘Everyone is drugged up all day and spend a lot of time sleeping. I am the only alcoholic. A ragbag collection of individuals really. A few on section and the rest voluntary.’ Thirty minutes later, after wading through the ubiquitous seagulls, they arrive at Branksome Chine and the call of a cup of tea beckons them. They climb a few steps to the entrance and are confronted by a food bar offering salads, rolls, sausage rolls and in the sweets section two desultory Danish. A young woman appears from the back as they reach the beverages section. ‘Pot of tea for two please.’ The girl looks mildly affronted as if Carl has said to her. ‘I always preferred fucking your sister.’ Vanessa selects a couple of white china cups and sundries and they find themselves a table by the window. ‘Five fifty. Its quite busy considering. Any of your lot here? Going awol.’ ‘I think Alice was down here a few days ago causing a ruckus and taking her clothes off. She’s not safe to let loose. Shall I be mother? That brought a smile to your face.’ Carl takes a cup and pours in milk and adds three sugar cubes. ‘Do you think I see you as some kind of mother figure?’ His interest is aroused. ‘Not consciously. But you see something of her in me. I am a sensitive you see.’ ‘You ought to go into psychotherapy when you get yourself sorted out. You may make a good therapist.’ ‘It’s the sharp-things self-harmers that I would like to help. Anyway how are you? Give me a fag. How do you get your clients? Do you advertise?’ ‘I have an advert in yellow pages. It’s a holistic process. Clients find me. It owes much to Dirk Gently.’ ‘I don’t know him.’

‘No matter. You said you used to run an escort agency?’ ‘Yes I guess they are similar professions. A strong cup of tea. I hope noone died in the brewing of it.’ ‘Maybe we get on well because we think much alike. Nicht wahr! ‘Soll ich dir einen blasen?’ ‘Nicht jetzt, aber später. But you might be able to do something for me via your old contacts. I am looking for a girl to give a friend of mine an orgasm.’ ‘You are pimping for your friend now?’ The harassed young mum with her toddler and baby in tow is neurotically smoking a cigarette as she gazes forlornly at her ringless left hand. ‘In a manner of speaking you could be a meddling aunt rather than a mother figure.’ ‘Is that a yes?’ ‘Is that a map of Jamaica on your hat?’ ‘I don’t know. I suppose so.’ ‘It’s a surprise treat. There is only so much joy one can get from Indian home deliveries.’ ‘He wants to have sex with an Asian girl?’ ‘Well, he could do. Do you know any?’ Carl takes a big bite of his Danish. ‘Michelle has a dark complexion. I probably have her number.’ ‘How much would she want?’ ‘Lets go. It’s too warm in here.’ They leave, Carl nibbling on his pastry.’ ‘What would he prefer, a blow job, hand job, full sex, domination?’ ‘An orgasm will do. He’s in his seventies. I don’t care how he gets it.’ ‘If you want a girl to be especially nice to him then better give her one fifty. She will expect to spend a good hour on the job for that. Cerise is a mature lady who gets on well with elderly. She could give him a wonderful massage with oils. I’ll give her a ring to ring you and you can fix up the details between you.’ ‘I guess she doesn’t do pro bono work? I think the government should legalise brothels and give the pensioners and those on benefits free vouchers that they can exchange for sex. The Ministry for Relief. I suppose the same goes for women. What do you think?’ ‘I think I had getter get back before they send the search party out. Are you coming?’ ‘I didn’t fly here. My cars back at the hospital.’ ‘Just look at the cards, the colours and select the card you most prefer, then the next and so on till you have finished. Ok?’ ‘Is this a test?’ Donna darts Carl a sharp look. ‘Of course it’s a test. But there is no right or wrong answer. Just choose the colours that you most prefer then and least prefer. As you choose turn the card over. This is the Lüscher colour test which will give me a guide to your emotional state.’ Reassures Carl. ‘I can tell you my emotional state. I’m depressed and miserable because I had a miscarriage at three months. I lost my baby. Now I’ve lost my husband, my home and I’m living like some bleeding refugee in Bournemouth.’ She extricates a tissue from the box and blows her nose. ‘In your own time. Steady your thoughts and compose yourself.’ Laid out randomly on the coffee table are eight cards of various colours, these being dark blue, green, red, yellow, violet, brown, black and grey, a little smaller than a playing card. Donna

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ponders awhile then turns over the blue card which has a number one on its reverse side. Next she chooses brown which also has a number as do the remaining cards which she reveals in turn. ‘Right. I’ll lay the cards out in the order you chose them. These first two cards here, the one and the six together, tell me that at the present time you need space to be on your own, to be in a safe and conflict-free haven, however also in need of a lot of tlc. You feel a great sense of loss and emptiness and the two and the five sees you compensating by going along with others plans because really you just do not care that much. The three and the four paired. You are letting yourself, uh, behave in ways out of character perhaps. You want to get close to others because you don’t want to be alone but you have been hurt. Although you are fearful of the future you do have an underlying selfbelief and confidence. You know you will get through this because you are a winner. This is not an in-depth analysis but it is useful for me to know so I am in a better position to help you.’ ‘Phew. What do we do now?’ Remarks Donna. ‘Work on your chakras. The solar plexus and heart. If you get onto the couch we can start.’ Donna is dressed in black jeans and black jumper and when she removes her jumper she is wearing bib overalls. Under the straps she is wearing a black sheen top. She sets herself prone. ‘Comfortable. I’m going to be working on your body as I did before. That’s a nice perfume. I will be playing a tape with a meditation on it called ‘the Terraces’. You just relax and let yourself go. If you feel sleepy just go with it. Just relax. Take a few deep breaths. I will start at your head as before. I will put the tape on now.' ‘Are those twin peaks of desire real, I wonder.’ Wonders Carl as he put the tape on play. After thirty minutes the healing session concludes. ‘That was so lovely. So calming. I must have dozed off for a few minutes. I hope I didn’t snore.’ Donna stretches with arms up high chest pushed out. ‘You must get lots of satisfaction out of your work, helping people?’ ‘I do Donna. Shall I book you in for next week?’ ‘This is a bit cheeky of me but if you are not busy perhaps I could invite you to lunch?’ She picks up her jacket from the stand. ‘You could do. Or I could invite you to have lunch here. Let’s go into the kitchen.’ Carl leads the way to the kitchen. ‘Do you live here alone. It’s very tidy for a man.’ Enquires Donna as she sits at the table first putting her jacket on the back of the chair. ‘It will only be French bread, pâte, cheese and salad. That alright for you?’ ‘I have an au pair who is a general dogsbody and bed-warmer but it’s her day off today.'’ 'Funny. Can I help?’ ‘Yes. Tell me if you have a job. Or have ever had a job.’ Carl goes to the fridge and extricates the pâte, camembert, bowl of mixed salad and half a French stick wrapped in clingfilm. ‘I used to have a job as a secretary but my boyfriend who is my husband now but wasn’t then didn’t like me working. No bird of his is going to go out to work he tells me.’ ‘A little on the old-fashioned side is he?’ Carl takes two dinner plates out of the cupboard.

‘He gets it from the old country.’ ‘Italy?’ ‘Wales. Though he was proud that his grandfather had an icecream parlour in Cardiff in the fifties. He’s dead now.’ ‘Do you like olives?’ ‘I love them.’ ‘Here you are. Help yourself. My cook phoned in to say she is sick of the palsy this morning but I think she is skive-ing. What do you think?’ ‘I think you must need a good imagination for your line of work.’ ‘It does help. Red wine ok or are you in recovery?’ ‘That will be fine.’ Carl produces a bottle of opened wine from a cupboard and two glasses and sits down opposite her. Donna spoons some salad onto her plate. ‘Have you ever been married?’ Donna asks licking mayo from her upper lip. ‘Not that I recall. And no, I am not an absent father.’ ‘I bet you would make a good father. You would have the patience.’ ‘But not the inclination. Bread?’ ‘Could you cut me a small piece. I don’t like knives.’ She smiles apologetically. ‘No problem.’ He cuts a chunk of bread and passes it to her. Action completed he half fills their glasses with wine. ‘L’chaim.’ Toasts Carl. ‘Cheers.’ ‘What a lovely bedroom. Its very, I don’t know, you, somehow. It’s so um. . .’ ‘Japanese.’ interjects Carl. ‘See, you can read my mind.’ She smiles with pleasure. ‘So you like my house? Anything else you want to see?’ ‘Your bed is nice.’ ‘Try it out if you want.’ Donna stretches out of the bed, testing for comfort. ‘It’s firm but yielding. Soft on the outside and stiff within.’ Carl offers a few qualities. ‘I can tell. I need some tlc doctor Carl. Will you hold me?’ ‘Do you always wear a padded bra? Asks Carl as Donna removes her last article of clothing?’ ‘No not always. Only when I want to look different. I know I don’t need padding but sometimes I want to be up front. In ya face. I am frenching up this week. If you know what I mean.’ ‘You’ve great tits and the rest of you looks pretty good to me.’ ‘Sometimes I like to outshine my friend Trisha. She’s got a great pair.’ You haven’t been sunbathing much. Don’t you like the beach?’ ‘I’m allergic to too much sun. Kiss me. Mmm. Be gentle with me.’ ‘Was that gentle enough? Asks Carl as his spunk drips out of her fanny onto his duvet cover. ‘That was lovely.’ She replies shuffling her back-side into his groin. He lies on his side up close to her foetal position with his arm draped over her. ‘Yes. That was nice and pleasant. The Otis Redding Greatest Hits wrapped us both up in aural cotton wool. My gentle caresses and kisses, my slow thrustings in her tight cunt. Yes, I tried a little tenderness and the loving was good and I had a seven point five orgasm and didn’t break into a sweat. Like an experienced violinist I played every note

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perfectly and poignantly. I wished she hadn’t started crying though. Vulnerability is one thing but cloyingness is some other ball game.’ ‘Are you asleep?’ ‘Just compiling my shopping list.’ How come you never married?’ ‘I am not an OAP yet. Up to this point I haven’t wanted a long-term relationship.’ ‘Marriage doesn’t have to be long term.’ ‘Then why get married?’ ‘For the presents. Reception, Honeymoon. That’s what some of my friends think.’ ‘That’s one view point. And you?’ ‘I’m still working that one out.’ Carl releases her and lays on his back. ‘Her bum is a bit spotty. Poor diet I suspect. Plus stress.’ He diagnoses. ‘What does holistic mean? She asks turning round to face him. ‘It’s a way of looking at a whole system rather than at the parts independent of each other because what is happening to one part has a knock-on effect on other parts. It applies to ecology, economics, education, car mechanics, the whole universe but we are interested in the human body. Mind, body and spirit and everything in between. Stress for example can and often does cause physical ill-effects. Cause and effect. Some people believe that what is ailing someone in this life could be the result of something they did or that happened to them in a former life. Others believe that most problems in the world are the result of lack of sexual gratification whilst others attribute it to poor lighting.’ ‘What do you believe? ‘Deal with the symptoms and sometimes you get lucky and can deal with the root cause. Time is often the healer for those who want to be healed. Right Donna. Do you want to have a shower or something? I have another appointment in half an hour.’ ‘Have you had a busy day?’ Asks Ann having left behind the uniform in favour of being clad in jeans and sweater. Cold night outside, a clear sky, symphony for moon and stars and fly-bys. Cosy at the table shared with three other concert goers, standing room only, six deep at the bar of the Phoebe. ‘Yes. I can’t go into specifics of course but I was helping a young lady who is going through a hard time. Do you want another Baileys?’ ‘No thanks. Was she responsive to treatment?’ ‘Quite receptive. I think I will make further progress with her.’ ‘Have you got a light mate?’ Asks one of the youths opposite. ‘Help yourself.’ Carl indicates his zippo lighter on top of his cigarette pack. ‘Who are we here to see again?’ ‘The Australian Pink Floyd Show.’ Carl finishes his pint. ‘A tribute band? ‘When an orchestra performs a piece of music they follow the score as it is written, note for note. These guys do the same with Pink Floyd music. Tonight it’s the Dark Side of the Moon performance. What are you into? Soul, Reggae, Hip Hop?’ ‘Piss off.’ Ann’s dark brown eyes so liquid and inviting frost over instantly. ‘Only joshing.’ Carl carelessly pacifies. ‘I put you down as a Johnny Cash or possibly Jim Reeves fan.’ He adds. ‘Do you get punched in the mouth a lot?’

‘Just testing your sensitivity level. There’s that bell again. I guess they want us in our seats.’ They make their way to the front to have their tickets checked and get seated. ‘Hullo Carl. Nice to see you.’ Greets a man in suit and tie in his mid-forties. Carl gives him the nod of recognition. ‘Where are we sitting?’ Asks Ann . ‘That was brilliant. Loved the light show. Thanks for bringing me. Ow. Someone just stood on my foot. I’ll follow you.’ They eventually are standing on the steps of the Pavilion breathing in the cool night air as the audience stream out and all around. ‘So. I’ll take you back to your house.’ They move to down the side of the building where Carl’s car is parked. ‘Do you want to go for a drink first?’ ‘No thanks. I feel tired. We can do coffee some other time.’ Carl gives a faux yawn. ‘Sure.’ ‘Come in Clive. Still raining I see. Did you have trouble finding somewhere to park? You can always park in the drive. Cup of coffee? Two sugars. Back in a minute.’ Clive seats himself and gazes around the room. The furnishings are therapy functional, little evidence of the person behind the therapist, though the Poinsettia pot on top of the low glass-fronted bookcase offers a vibrant counterpoint to the general browness and formality of the room. ‘He needs a woman’s touch.’ Decides Clive. ‘Nice plant. Did you know that December the twelfth is National Poinsettia Day?’ ‘No I didn’t Clive. Where? Cambodia? ‘In America probably.’ ‘It’s not internationally recognised then. I’ll put your coffee here.’ He sets down the two mugs and seats himself opposite Clive. ‘Why is it Clive that a reasonably handsome young man like you hasn’t got himself a girlfriend?’ ‘I went out on a date last week with Sue. Remember I told you. Well, we met outside Borders and went to see Terminator 3, the rise of the machines. We enjoyed it. Afterwards we went for a burger and a coffee. I thought we got on really well. We felt comfortable in each other’s presence. I felt comfortable anyway. She said she likes me but only as friends.’ ‘Sounds like you were too comfortable in her presence. No sexual tension. No desire. Chemistry, but not the right kind. Perhaps she’s a lesbian. Well you gave it a go. Generally relationships need space and time to develop. It’s not very realistic to think you are going to jump into bed together on the first date. Will you go out with her again, as friends?’ ‘Yes. We are going bowling Friday evening with some others from the office.’ ‘That’s fine.’ Carl closes his eyes and waits. An uncomfortable silence often elicits more. They sit in silence for three minutes as Carl finishes his coffee and Clive gets fidgety. ‘Anything you want to talk about Clive?' ‘Uh. Yes. I uh. I met this man the other night and we drove into Meyrick Park and had a, a sexual encounter.’ ‘After you said goodnight Sue? Go on.’ ‘He gave me a wank and I sucked him off. We are going to see each other again. Going

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to a gay club.’ Clive looks a little shame-faced. ‘Your social life is improving Clive. There are lots of people out there just waiting to get to know you. You have to put yourself around that’s all. But be careful. And I don’t just mean whose dick you put in your mouth.’ ‘You are right.’ ‘I haven’t quite given up on you yet though Clive. I will have to try and fix you up with a woman if the opportunity arises. I don’t think we need to arrange any further appointments but you can call me any time if you need some advice or counselling. Ok.’ ‘Doris Day was licking, her southern fried chicken, Marilyn was supping on a coke. Like a knight in shining armour, She thought he’d come to charm her, Though all he really wanted was a poke. Johnny boy was joking, whilst Marilyn was toking . .’ So sang the singer on the radio. ‘Mmm. That could make me horny. Show me how you do it.’ ‘What now?’ Carl and Cathy lie naked on her bed in her bedroom in pre-coital relaxation, less so Cathy. She is anxious with a lick of sexual excitement. Carl hasn’t been able to get an erection due to lack of stimulation. ‘Yeah, come on. Show me how you masturbate. Do you usually use your fingers, a dildo, vibrator perhaps? ‘Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it. Its personal and private.’ Cathy blushes with embarrassment. ‘Maybe you prefer an earthy stimulation like a tubular vegetable. You do yourself and I’ll do myself. Deal?’ Carl propositions Cathy. ‘Do you need any accessories?’ Asks Carl. ‘Are you going to pop to the sex shop or maybe the flower shop?’ ‘The flower shop? I could get you a prickly cactus I suppose.’ ‘I don’t think I can do this.’ Confesses Cathy as she pushes herself further up the headboard. ‘Close your eyes. And wank as well.’ Carl is laying on his back next to her with his head propped up with several pillows as she does his bidding. She opens her legs as her right hand slides between her legs and Carl lends a helping hand to his stirring prick. After five minutes Cathy no longer needs the visual stimulation engrossed in her own pleasuring as she is. Her eyes are closed, breathing ragged, her lips dark and nipples erect. Her skin is flushed and sheening with her sweat. Carl is enjoying himself and her as well. ‘Carl, Carl, come, come in me, come in my mouth. I want to taste your cum in my mouth. She gasps out in desperation and desire.' ‘Who is this woman?’ self-questions Carl. ‘I don’t know what went on during her retreat but it’s pretty scary. Scared? Wer Ich? Maybe I have control issues? Probably. Why don’t you just come in her mouth and give your psyche a rest? Definitely.’ ‘I’m going to pop downstairs for a fag.’ Says Carl as he slips off the bed. ‘I’ll make some coffee. Have you got the heating on? It’s a little cold.’ ‘Grab yourself a robe from the wardrobe and I’ll put on the heating.’ Announces Carl,

grabbing his pants and t-shirt and padding out of the bedroom. ‘Vis à vis your shaven pussy I think you should let it be in it’s luxuriant natural state.’ ‘You would prefer that?’ Cathy sips at her hot coffee seated across the kitchen table from Carl. ‘I think in general it’s more sexy. You can look in these magazines of scantily dressed models or celebrities and there is not a hint of a pubic hair of any of them. Most of them portray themselves as sexless, depersonalised, showroom dummies. You have to be desperate to find them erotic.’ Carl proclaims between drags on his cigarette. ‘But you don’t think of me as a showroom dummy do you?’ Asks Cathy, a thin rivulet of tear forming and running down from her right lower eyelid. Carl watches as it descends, hesitates at her jaw then falls into her mug of coffee. In a flash of startled satori Carl has a mind-blowing revelation and in the realisation of this mind-blowing revelation, as he swings his attention on to the revelation to capture it as a concept, it rapidly fades like tissue paper ignited by a match flame. ‘What? Concern settles onto Cathy’s face. ‘What?’ Enquires Carl, his mind following the smoke as it rises and disappears. ‘I thought you were having another episode. That you were going to black-out.’ ‘I don’t black out do I?’ He stubs out his smouldering filter. ‘I think you are a Jekyll and Hyde character.’ Diagnoses Cathy. ‘Let’s go back upstairs.’ Responds Carl. He is leaning back on the rug with his arms supporting him, with his legs open whilst Cathy straddles him, riding his cock and gripping his shoulders, hard, as her insides turn to jelly, willing him to ejaculate into the core of her being but also fearful that when he does she will explode. ‘Lean back and bring your legs up and rock me baby.’ Instructs Carl. She leans back bringing her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders whilst taking him in a neck hold for her support. ‘Ah Carl. Do you love me? Say you love me you bastard. Ah. Ah.’ Cathy starts climaxing as he says that he does, gripping him hard round the neck as he shoots his load inside her. She shudders as another orgasm ripples through her only slightly less intense. ‘Oh my God.’ She utters as she throws herself away from him to lay on the shag pile carpet. ‘What are you doing to me?’ ‘You’d better wipe yourself before you drip all over the carpet.’ He says, throwing her the box of tissues. ‘ ‘You’re a bastard but I still love you.’ Cathy wipes between her legs, folds the tissue into a ball and throws it at Carl. ‘I think this is yours.’ ‘Thanks. Come join me on the bed.’ Says Carl rising from the rug and diving onto the bed. Cathy lies next to him and plants a kiss on his cheek. ‘You are so masterful.’ ‘You bring out the best in me. Sex with attitude is the best sex. When a man wants to grab his woman and force her to her knees and cunt-fuck her hard and fast then he is not just acting off his own passion but is tuned into the Jungian Collective Consciousness wherein we remember the short, sharp brutality of life at the dawn of

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Mankind. At the Crack of Dawn you could say. It is a man stating ‘I am a Man’, not only the Destroyer but also the Creator of Life. God created life on this planet with an orgasm. The spurting of his cosmic seed created Life.’ ‘So God is a Man?’ Queries Cathy sleepily. ‘It is a duality set up. The Mother and the Father. God and Goddess. The Goddess in the meantime was tending to the other planets in the solar system but had time to comment. 'I think two legs would look better on the humans than three.’ ‘You never let me use three.’ Chides God gently. ‘You know I have my phobia.’ ‘So there really was a Big Bang.’ Comments Cathy as her eyes close and she drifts off to sleep.’ ‘Of course.’ Chapter 11: ‘. . . . . you are feeling relaxed, so very relaxed, floating in your little boat along the river on this warm summers afternoon. You are wonderfully relaxed and at ease, at one with yourself . . . floating, floating along. There you are laying back in your little boat the sun warm on your body.’ The man is responding nicely despite his cynicism bordering on aggression. ‘What did he say. He is only here so his wife wont nag him anymore.’ Carl remembers. ‘Relaxing, feeling calm and relaxed. It is dark now and you are walking along the pavement under the starry night sky smoking a cigarette. You cough and spit a wad of phlegm onto the tarmac in front as you approach a pub you are a stranger to. The sounds of music, laughter and general merriment reach your ears. You can see light leaking out from the shutters. You unlatch the dark rough-hewn wood door and confidently push it in and open and step over the threshold into the party atmosphere. There are a few people sitting at tables and several seated at the bar. To your left you see into a large hall filled with people seated at tables, standing around or dancing to the live music. You can make out a female singer fronting group; drums, guitar and an organ rising and falling in the background. The publican behind the bar appears to serve you; a tall gangly man with a gaunt face with a jagged, livid scar running from the outer corner of his left eye to his chiselled jaw. He eyes you suspiciously but ask you what you want. When you are served with your pint of beer you take a good hearty throatful before realising that the beer doesn’t taste like beer. It tastes more like, piss. Chilled piss. You start to gag and have a powerful urge to vomit, but then you think you must be imagining this so you think you will have a cigarette instead. You take out your packet of cigarettes, put one in your mouth and light it and take a long satisfying drag, picturing the smoke entering and filling your lungs. Then you realise that it is not smoke that you have filled your lungs with but a fine oily ash. You can see inside yourself and see your lungs coated in this fine oily ash and you now have trouble breathing.’ The client shifts around uncomfortably in his chair, his eyelids flicker briefly then he is still again. ‘There is just not enough air getting into your lungs, not enough air in the room, not

enough oxygen in the world and you are getting hot and flustered and your breathing becomes shallow and wheezy and you think that you are going to pass out. Now relax. Take a deep breath and your breathing is back to normal. Just relax. Take a deep breath and breathe easily Richard.’ ‘Give him a minute to get over his fright whilst I catch my breath. Aversion therapy can be such fun. Hard work though. I can relax with Donna this afternoon. He is a good subject though. Where were we?' ‘You are sitting at a table with several of the guests in the hall where a wedding reception has been in progress for sometime. You have a fag in your mouth but you are not enjoying it. A large fat woman with drooping jowls, who looks like her body has been poured like concrete into her flimsy sequined black dress stands in front of you. Her boobs seep out over her bra, under her armpits. She has a fag wedged between her fire-engine red lips. The nauseating scent of stale sweat, piss and leaky orifices assault your nostrils. ‘Hullo darling give me a kiss.’ She says leaning over and down to kiss you long and hard on the mouth. Her kiss tastes like the contents of an ashtray and as you attempt to pull away her tongue goes into your mouth forming a chute and down your throat pours the contents of a hundred disgusting ashtrays; dog-ends, stale beer, phlegm, matches, tampons.’ Richard is swallowing rapidly and appears to be over-dosing on chlorophyll. ‘Re---------lax. Take a big old breath and relax Richard and let these images fade away from your mind so that you will now forget what has been going on the conscious level but it will all be there in your friend and mine, the good old fashioned subconscious, unupgraded for millennium. You will not remember these images of the fat, disgusting, evil-smelling hag but whenever you feel you want a cigarette you will start feeling nauseous like you did a moment ago. If you ever feel tempted and have a lighted cigarette in your mouth you will feel extremely nauseous and you will have a blinding headache and wish to throw up as well as feeling like you are going to black out. Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand. Good. Now relax. You are going to wake up in a minute feeling good about yourself, feeling good like man who is a non-smoker. In fact from now on you will take every opportunity to tell who ever you meet you are a non-smoker. You will take a greater interest in your health, exercise more and lose some weight. Counting you up from one to ten now. Ten . . . ' ‘Can I use loo?’ Asks Richard looking not at all well as he rises from his seat with a hand across his mouth. ‘Bit tifi wela bit tibla'ee?’ Quizzes Carl of Donna as she relieves the tension on her nipples by removing her too tight icy light blue polo-neck sweater followed by the release of her breasts to rapturous applause. Carl sits on the edge of his king-sized bed in his boxers and enjoys the spectacle of Donna stripping as she enjoys the spectacle of herself stripping, in the full length mirror. Next her tight dark grey skirt. ‘Whose secretary is she today? He wonders. Naked, she casts a critical but approving eye over her body. Plumps her tits, runs her hands down her sides and hips. Carl gazes upon her light brown thatch. ‘She could do with a modest trim.’ Adjudges Carl. ‘What does that mean. What you just said?’ ‘You look ravishing. Why don’t you come here and suck my dick?’

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‘I don’t think I really want to.’ She sits on the bed. ‘There was a programme on the box about babies this morning which upset me. I think I would make a great mum.’ ‘I guess you would. You will have the opportunity again I am sure.’ ‘Yeah. Better odds than winning the lottery jackpot. I saw this advert in the local paper I thought might interest you. I cut it out but forgot to bring it. It said there is going to be a beginners course in astral travelling every Sunday afternoon on Salisbury Plain. I thought that would be interesting. You know about such things.’ ‘True. However I am busy most Sundays so I will have to pass. Lay down and I’ll give your back a massage. Then your front.’ What appears in the first act after the massage prelude is a short piece for mouth and cock followed by mutual orals culminating in the Elephant finale. ‘That was nice.’ Interjects Donna casually into the post-coital reflective fag break. ‘Is that want you want, nice?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have feelings, needs and desires that you are not expressing, not dealing with. That is understandable for we barely know each other. But you can trust me. I am your therapist.’ Silence. ‘Do you want to know how I came to have a miscarriage?’ She lights up one of Carl’s cigarettes. The nicotine patch stuck on her left arm shifts uneasily. ‘Tell me.’ ‘I was out on the razzle with friends celebrating, got pissed, slipped and fell on some steps and hurt my side. I was three months pregnant. See. There was no excuse. No one to blame but myself. If that wasn’t bad enough I had a row with my husband Laurie and one thing led to another and in the heat of the moment I stabbed him with a knife. A fruit knife of all things.’ Carl is listening intently whilst absentmindedly fiddling with her pubic hair. ‘Ouch.’ ‘Presumably he is not dead and the police are not looking for you. Correct?’ ‘Right.’ ‘But you are hiding out and keeping a low profile.’ ‘Yes. Can I take a shower?’ ‘Sure.’ Donna is in the shower, Carl in the kitchen in the nude, the phone rings. ‘Hi. Vanessa. How are you? You are? Back tomorrow. I am busy at the moment. With a client. Yeah. Ok. See you later.’ Carl replaces the receiver. ‘The bitch is back, da da da da. I don’t want a late night. I had better move Donna along. He steps into his bathroom and opens the door of the shower. ‘I’m glad it’s you.’ Donna greets him, water streaming down her face. ‘Do my back babe.’ ‘Let me turn the pressure down a little, we could drown in here.’ He reduces the flow to a trickle then starts to lather-up Donna’s back with an expensive, specially imported, made in Polynesia, purple viscous liquid soap with a scent of blueberries and mango and the merest hint of coconut. From her shoulders, to her back to the bottom of her spine. His hands on her buttocks stirs him to fondle and squeeze. To run a finger between her

cheeks. Donna turns and grasps his head in her hands and kisses him hard before sinking to her knees before him. The tip of his penis is two inches horizontally from her lips. ‘Piss on me.’ She speaks quietly, the spray and stream splashing the tiles many feet below, making her voice indistinct. ‘What?’ ‘Piss over me.’ Loudly with need. ‘Move back a bit. Hang on. It’s not so easy with a hard-on. The pump has to work harder to over-come gravity.’ A golden stream arcs it way from he to she, splashing on head, face and down her breasts. Donna fondles and squeezes her breasts with one hand whilst the other goes between her legs. With eyes shut and mouth wide she accepts what she must from him. ‘Get up.’ Commands Carl pulling Donna up to her feet and out of the cabinet. He pulls several bath towels off the rack and loosely throws them onto the tiled floor. ‘Let’s fuck.’ He strongly suggests pulling her down onto her back. Cathy walks along the pavement of Carl’s road on this pleasant late summers evening. Off the main road it is quieter with less people around though she can still hear the heavy hum of traffic at the end of the road. She is thirty meters away from Carl’s drive when she sees a woman exit. Cathy slows down considerably as she watches the woman unlock a car, a new model by the look of it, get in and drive off. She continues on her way and into Carl’s drive and rings the buzzer. ‘I fancied a stroll after being cooped up all day in the office. Can I come in?’ ‘Sure.’ ‘Who was that striking woman I just saw leaving a moment ago.’ Cathy enquires softly. ‘Just another client. I’m making a drink in the kitchen.’ They go into the back of the house. ‘Are her boobs for real?’ ‘How would I know Cathy? Forget about her. Tea or coffee?’ Cathy sits and Carl busies himself making drinks. ‘Fuck.’ He expletes loudly. ‘That bloody cat is in my garden. Where’s my M16?’ He noisily opens the kitchen door. The cat sits stock-still mid-poo so Carl moves towards it and the cat scarpers. ‘So what have you been up to? Biscuit? Chocolate chip.’ ‘Working hard. It’s about work that I wanted to talk to you.’ ‘Mine or yours? Let’s go into the lounge.’ ‘What are you planning to do with your new found wealth? Invest it perhaps? Put it in a high-interest account? Buy another property?’ ‘I was going to consult you on whether you thought a snail breeding farm in the south of France would be a good investment.’ ‘Seriously Carl.’ ‘Well I guess you have something in mind or you wouldn’t be mooting the subject. Have a cookie.’ ‘I know someone who is looking for a business partner, or investor, in a publishing company.’ ‘Books and magazines? Drink your tea.’ ‘Yes. Despite television, videos, the internet, books are still big business.’

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‘Sounds good to me. The question is what kind of books?’ ‘Books that reflect the lifestyles, expectations and morals of our culture and times is how she put it.’ ‘Alright. You check it all out at your usual hourly rate and if the business is successful maybe you will get a bonus. I am going out in a minute Cath. Was that all?’ ‘Well. Do you want to meet up with him, the boyfriend of my friend, be involved in the negotiations?’ ‘No. I am too busy. I trust your business acumen. How about taking the afternoon off tomorrow and coming out for a drive? I’m taking Stewart out for some fresh air.’ ‘Ok. As long as he keeps his hands to himself. I had better go if you are on your way out. See you tomorrow then.’ ‘Tschüss.’ ‘Did you get me cigarettes? I wanted low tar.’ Enquires and complains Vanessa. ‘That’s all they had. Having a night off from the detox are you?’ ‘Just a couple of bottles of cider.’ ‘I’ll make myself a coffee. How is it going Vanessa, amongst the Undead?’ ‘Bored fucking shitless that’s how it’s going. I had to have a break. Now that fucking bastard of a husband of mine is off screwing some tart.’ Vanessa’s speech is a little slurred but her words cut like a briar patch. ‘And how do you know this?’ Carl sips his coffee. ‘I rang the house and Jason answered and told me Mike has been off on a conference all week. I bet he’s screwing some little floozie up in Blackpool of wherever he is.’ ‘If you are to get back together there has to be some commitment on his side. And some trust from you.’ Counsels Carl and yawns. ‘What about you? Had a busy day?’ Vanessa tries to empathise but fails. ‘I’m not going to stay long. Get an early night.’ ‘You can have an early night here. Let’s go to bed.’ ‘I doubt if I will be able to get it up.’ ‘I have a few Cialis tablets in the medicine cabinet. Take one of those.’ Vanessa is drunkenly insistent. ‘This could be the last time. Here today and gone tomorrow.’ ‘You have a point there.’ ‘Perhaps I should take an oath of celibacy for a week or two. Take up philately or forging Old Masters or New Masters even. We are all vampires; feeding of each others energies. I am giving out but am I getting enough back. My reserves are getting depleted. Feeding the Need. Am I needy?’ Carl decides to improve his so far lacklustre performance when Vanessa digs her claws into his back and drags them down and onto his buttocks. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me.’ She implores as Carl girds his loins, goes up several notches and experiences a fairly respectable six of an orgasm. ‘Keep it up, keep it up. Keep moving.’ Implores Vanessa through gritted teeth. ‘Nearly there. Fuck. Fuck.’ Continues her commentary. ‘Don’t lose it.’ ‘Too late. I’m done.’ Says Carl withdrawing, taking her clit between thumb and forefinger.

‘Lick me out Carl. Make me come. Lick me out.’ ‘I think not.’ He pulls away from her. ‘Lick me out you bastard.’ She grabs his arm and holds him firm. ‘I am not licking my spunk out of your fanny thanks. I don’t do that.’ ‘Lick me out you cunt.’ She demands. Carl sits on the edge of the bed away from her as her desire subsides and sullenness replaces it. ‘Fuck it. I’m off.’ Carl stands up and starts dressing. ‘You think that you can just fuck me and leave? Do you? Anger slips in the back door, with a bulldozer. ‘You think you are Mr Cool. A Hot Shot. But you are not the only one. My doctor friend is a powerful man and he’s hung like a horse. But you’re good. What you lack in size you make up for in technique.’ Carl is dressed and ready for the road. ‘Fuck you bitch.’ Are his parting words as he exits via the bedroom door a millisecond before the glass ashtray shatters against it. ‘I have gone off her anyway.’ He is unperturbed and the incident is forgotten as his mind turns to a bite to eat as he strolls along the busy High Street, past the charity shops, the discount emporiums, the carpet superstore, the snooker hall, the off-license. He pauses outside the Far East food store and looks into the shop window. He tries to envisage a situation where a 25 kilo bag of fragrant basmati rice would come in useful in his everyday life and cannot, so continues on his way to the Hispanic Chicken & Ribs Joint in the next block. Plenty of traffic at this time of night, with a sprinkling of pedestrians but no Big Issue sellers. The full moon keeping a watchful eye on the comings and goings of mere mortals. ‘Selene, does your light shine down on me tonight. Selene, the Promiscuous One! The Poisonous One! ’ Carl contemplates the Moon’s navel. ‘Three pieces of chicken, a portion of ribs, fries and a Sprite please. And bag it.’ ‘I’ll be your Pan if you will be my Selene.’ Carl exits and proceeds along the pavement, crosses over and goes down his road. ‘Is there a God, a Mentality within but also without? Or a personal God, a telesmatic image being the doorway to the Infinite Mind? Evening Mr Wojciechowski. Does God love me, like me even? Have my well-being at heart. No point in creating a personal God that despises you or proves unhelpful or a hindrance. Maybe I am being lulled into a false sense of my own superiority. Perhaps there are fire-breathing dragons ahead. Maybe I have a brain tumour. How does one know what is real inside ones head. Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away. Who said that? The outside world is solid enough to the non-physicist in me. The secret of inter-planetary travel is the spaces in-between. Home. Bed.’ ‘So. How does it feel to be back home Jean? Have you made the right decision?’ Jean Morales is looking worn and haggard; the ravages of middle-age and an unfulfilled life.

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‘I felt wonderful for a few days, like I had cast off a great weight. But then I began to feel like a ship at sea without a port of call.’ She confides. ‘Mmm. An interesting analogy. Short is the joy that guilty pleasure brings. Euripides.’ ‘Pardon? I still love him you see. He is the only man I have ever been with.’ ‘Help yourself to another cup of tea.’ They are sitting at the kitchen table as Carl has decided the less formal setting will be more relaxing for this client. Jean pours herself a second cup. ‘He is so pleased to have me back. He was lost without me and has agreed to change to working days only, from next week.’ ‘Love is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the seperateness and integrity of one’s own self. Erich Fromm.’ ‘What does that mean?’ ‘What we have here Jean, vis à vis, your situation is discovering what the essential components of your Happiness are when the minor irritations of life are put to the side, allowing you to look inwards to the quintessence of what really makes you happy. One needs to be balanced holistically, whether in a relationship, through a personal belief system, or the codes and laws of another; a life-style, a group, an institution. There are limitations and mental health hazards of course. One must remember to be happy despite. You can reach a truly divine state only when you learn to face past emotional upheavals, become responsible for your actions and reactions, and once and for all accept the cycle of life that includes death. Conway wrote that. Are you with me so far? Its hot in here. Let me open a window.’ ‘Are you feeling alright. Perhaps you ought to take a paracetemol.’ Concern etches itself on Mrs Morales’s well-etched face. Carl takes a few deep breaths at the open window. ‘You need a holiday.’ She Precribes. ‘I think you are right.’ He sits down at the table again. ‘About the rabbits. Have you thought about making restitution?’ ‘I couldn’t possibly. I can hardly go knocking on their door can I. I don’t feel guilty about doing it.’ She is unashamed. ‘Therein lies the problem as the nun said to the bishop.’ Mrs Morales smiles at Carl’s remark. ‘By setting those rabbits free from their confinement, id est, the hutch, you have put them into a situation that they are unlikely to be able to handle. Ergo they will die. These are ordinary domestic bunnies I presume, not SAS trained killers who can live off the land, experts in urban guerrilla techniques. The moral dilemma is, for most people, is it better to be alive in confinement or dead in freedom. Death is an extreme solution, don’t you think? The problem was, is, your feelings about their predicament rather than an objective over-view of the real situation. In other words you have projected your own feelings of captivity, frustration and inadequacy onto those poor creatures, giving them . .’ Carl’s monologue tapers off as Mrs Morales starts weeping. ‘Have a tissue.’ Says Carl, pushing the box across the table between them. He waits patiently as she blows her nose and wipes away her tears. ‘We can call it a day now.’ Carl announces. ‘I will have to write you out a cheque.’ ‘No matter. Write it out at half my usual rate. A fifty per cent discount for you.’

The steep descent along the winding road off the A351 has been uneventful, relaxing and quiet apart from Stewarts regaling of Carl and Cathy with anecdotes of his life on the frontline of healing over five decades. Traffic is light, the sun bright, sparkling on the placid water of the bay. ‘I don’t think we will get in any surfing today. Just as well I didn’t bring my board.’ Jokes Carl. ‘Cold enough in that water to give an artic whale hypothermia, I should think.’ Comments Stewart from the back seat. ‘Slow down Carl, there’s a car stopped ahead.’ Observes Cathy. ‘Probably the toll booth.’ Deduces Carl. He slows down as the car ahead moves off, comes to a stop. ‘I’ll pay.’ Offers Cathy, lowering the window and pulling a fiver out of her sky blue Lowe-Alpine Women’s Ice Maiden jacket. She receives a ticket and a pound coin in return. Carl drives off and on whilst Stewart adds to his companions sketchy knowledge of the history and geology of Kimmeridge and adjacent coastline, passes the cottages of the right and comes to a stop in the middle of the cliff top field which serves as car park. A few other vehicles are scattered around. To their left the land gradually rises to a promontory on top of which sits the Clavell Tower and to the right the land sweeps round to form the Bay. Situated near the entrance to the car park is a van dispensing icecream and other comestibles. ‘Does anyone want anything from the van?’ Asks Cathy. ‘Get a couple of coffees Cathy. Here.’ Stewart extracts a ten pound note from his wallet. ‘She is quite an attractive girl though a little prickly.’ He accesses as his eyes follow the slim woman in shades of blue. ‘Eyes off you.’ Cautions Carl good naturedly. ‘She’s not my type.’ ‘Was the lady of the night your type?’ ‘Cerise. A gorgeous creature despite being a little over-ripe. Thank you my son. You have made an old lecher happy.’ ‘Did you manage to get it up?’ ‘Of course I got it up you cheeky bugger. I’m not past it yet. I got it up alright when it mattered most.’ ‘Then there was a happy outcome. Glad you enjoyed it.’ ‘You can expect a mention in my will for this consideration.’ ‘I expect more than a mention. Here comes Cathy.’ ‘Does she always wear blue clothing?’ ‘It is one of her idiosyncrasies.’ Confirms Carl. ‘She has more?’ ‘Here she comes, bless her blue cotton socks. Open your window Stew and take the coffees off her.’ ‘Does she wear blue underwear?’ ‘Never you mind.’ ‘Let’s go for a walk.’ Suggests Carl when their polystyrene beakers are empty. ‘You two go ahead. I’ll rest here and enjoy the view.’ ‘Ok Cathy. You up for it.’ ‘Of course. I’ll just put my hat on.’

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‘Little Blue Walking Hat. Beware the Big Bad Wolf.’ Jokes Stewart. ‘It’s too late for that.’ She smilingly retorts. Carl and Cathy walk hand in hand to the right to near the cliff top where there is a path descending to steps that brings them within a few minutes down to the shore. There is not much of a beach in this area, though there are many rock pools in and around which two Labradors are alternatively paw-crabbing and frolicking. On the distant horizon almost invisible to the human eye a faint red glow can be discerned. ‘See that speck out there. A strange red light as of a phantom ship all aglow, in the midst of which light the mast, spars and sails of a brig 200 yards distant stood out in strong relief. George the fifth wrote that when a seaman and yet a prince about the sighting of the Flying Dutchman.’ Confides Carl to a disinterested Cathy. ‘Really?’ ‘No, not really. If it is it’s way , way lost.’ ‘Where do you get all this useless information from Carl? Haven’t you got better things to do with your mind. You ought to take an accountancy course.' ‘Then we would be arguing about whose turn it is to cook the books.’ ‘I don’t cook the books.’ Defensively. ‘Stew is right. You are prickly.’ They walk towards the flat stone beds where lie unevenly shaped and mis-shaped blocks of cement stone, wonderful to walk on, an obstacle course for the sure footed. Many are several feet high, sloping down to the sea, whereas some are double in height, making negotiating a path sideways more interesting. ‘Slow down Carl. Wait for me.’ Calls Cathy as Carl bounds off like a mountain goat. It is a beautiful sunny day, though a little chilly, for fucking al fresco. They clamber over the stones and sit awhile to sit on a fairly flat and horizontal rock. Carl takes a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lights up. ‘We should go for a swim.’ Announces Carl after a few minutes. ‘You’re joking?’ ‘In the South China Sea. One Day. Together.’ Qualifies he. ‘That would be nice. You can afford it.’ ‘Let’s walk on.’ Says Carl rising. They cross a few more metres of rock and come against the cliff face, a towering wall jutting out a little way seaward but with a thin strip of sand at its edge. ‘We shouldn’t go too far the tide is coming in. Let’s turn back.’ ‘Not for awhile. Let’s have a peek round the corner. The sand is always finer on the other side.’ They walk round and upon a further thin strip of sand, a recess between two jutting cliff faces twenty metres long. Carl scans the horizon and just about makes out a small fishing boat a long way out. ‘This will do. It is so quiet and isolated here.’ Comments Carl. He turns back towards Cathy and kisses her, pushing her up against the cliff face and unbuttoning her coat. ‘Carl.' Rebukes Cathy mildly. Carl runs a hand slowly over her breasts and then kisses her on the lips hard, pushing his tongue straightaway into her mouth. His hand clasps her jumpered breast briefly then moves it down over her stomach and comes to rest at the top button of her jeans.

‘Carl, someone might come.’ ‘The only ones coming are you and I.’ He assures her. ‘You are such a romantic.’ He undoes her buttons quickly, still kissing her hard, steps back and pulls down her panties and jeans in one fluid motion, down to her ankles, removes her shoes and jeans completely. He stands up and moves to kiss her again. ’Oh Cathy’. He whispers, kissing her for several minutes until she is forgetting her anxieties and responding avidly. His right hand moves up to touch her cheek, pulls his face away, touches her lips with his fingers and slides two into her mouth. She sucks on his fingers then he withdraws them and Cathy feels those fingers rubbing against her down there, the opening to her cunt. Their tongues slip and slide against each other. ‘Not enough spit.' Utters Carl as his hand ascends to her mouth again and eases two fingers between her lips. Once again he rubs her and opens her up a little. He steps back a pace, unzips his jeans, pulls out his erection, gobs onto his fingers and rubs it crudely onto his cock and assumes an entry position. Despite the chill in the air, the fear of discovery and of being drowned Cathy feels a pleasant genital sensation and is self-lubricating. Without more ado Carl lifts up Cathy’s left leg, lines up and pushes his cock into her as he pulls her other leg up. She grasps him with her legs tightly. Carl is pleased his cock slips into her so easily. ‘Cathy. Oh Cathy.’ He says thrusting hard and fast in her now slick cunt. Cathy is intensely focussed as with some urgency, between pelvic thrusts that are becoming more insistent, he comes like an express train, forcibly drawing up psychic energy by its roots from his base chakra to the crown, metaphysically speaking. Carl is still dribbling inside her as he pulls away, releasing her legs. ‘Get dressed. The tide is coming in.’ The water is six inches away from lapping at their feet. ‘I didn’t orgasm.’ Says Cathy disappointed. ‘Sorry. Next time.’ Carl puts away his cock and helps her on with her jeans. They hurry back the way they have come getting their feet wet in the process. ‘Nice walk?’ Enquires Stewart waking up from his afternoon doze as they both take their seats. ‘Bracing.’ Responds Carl. ‘You seem to have chalk dust in your hair Cathy. Do you want me to brush it out for you?’ Stew’s hand touches the back of Cathy’s head and she flinches instinctively. ‘Better get back to town for the healing group. Will you deem to honour us with your presence Stew?’ ‘Why not? It is a good idea. He is such a caring boy, do you not think Cathy?’ ‘Yes I do Stewart.’ She agrees with teeth clenched tightly. Carl’s left hand stretches out to rest on her thigh and she rests her right hand on his and smiles at him. Chapter 12: Shinona stands to the side her hands resting on his thigh. Carl feels very much

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relaxed as he evaluates her potential as a healer in his group. Of course it is a purely subjective evaluation as people are not all attuned the same. Having recently moved to Bournemouth she is looking for some place to set up her spiritual wares. Mid-twenties, nose pierced, ginger braided hair, a post-punk hippy, a couple of pounds over her optimum weight but if asked would quadruple it. Carl has no personal interest in her apart from her possible contribution to the group. He shifts slightly, adjusting his backside, rearranging his genitals to a more comfortable position. A good attendance today: a full complement of healers including Tom, Derek, Doris, Mary, Jean and Barry and some regulars plus a few walk-ins and of course Stewart who is currently giving healing to Brigitte in a chair off to Carl’s right. Cathy is at arms length to a tattooed skinhead recently released from prison and on parole whose Parole Officer happens to be Derek. Propriety with the opposite sex during contact healing is very important. Several male gropers over the years have had to be barred following complaints from a few of the women. What goes on outside the group is another matter. He becomes aware of the music emanating from the cassette player several meters removed, against the side wall. The sound of a waterfall, the sea lapping on the sand, bird calls, monkeys chattering. ‘Change the tape will you Shinona. It is a tad too raucous for my taste. Murder in the jungle.’ Shinona changes the tape to something soothing and innocuous. Carl step by step tunes out the extraneous noises in the room, aware of Shinona’s patchouli scent. The shuffling of feet and chairs as healing proceeds, ends and finishes. Voices in conversation in various parts of the room. The music. Tunes out and goes deeper within. He is at once the observer and the participant, the man and boy. The boy moves through a black and white celluloid night-time city scene; he walks along the pavement with darkened shop windows on his left. A couple approach and he is forced to make room by stepping off the kerb into the gutter of the cobbled street. He passes under an archway that straddles the street; he senses he is near water now; the smell of oil, rotting garbage, fishy smells. He turns way from that direction towards the sounds of light and laughter that escapes from an open window down a dimly-lit alley. Alone and afraid the boy is looking for something or someone, real or intangible, the future or an escape from the past. A lady of the night steps out of a doorway, says a few words in a European language he does not understand and steps back into darkness again. ‘Don’t go there.’ Warns the observer anxiously intuitively knowing what the woman has said. The boy cannot hear or will not heed. ‘Turn over so I can do your back.’ Requests Shinona near and distant. Carl rolls over onto his stomach. Warily and reluctantly but curious and compelled he is drawn back into this dream which his mind contructs for him. The boy standing at the top of the carpetless wooden stairs in his stripey pyjamas is nine, coming on ten, with dark brown unruly hair, sleepy eyes and an empty glass in one hand. Something has awoken him from his deep sleep. Tired, thirsty and needing to relieve himself he slowly descends the stairs. He can hear a voice and another sound. A man’s voice on the radio and someone sobbing. He steps down slowly, as quietly as he can. He reaches the bottom of the stairs. There is very little light; all shades of dark. With heart beating the boy stands by the open doorway. The voice on the radio continues telling the news and the woman sobs intermittently.

He steps into the room onto the bare wooden floorboards. It is dark but he can discern the vague outline of a figure laying prone and still on the mat. He steps further into the room and stops and listens and waits. He can hear the ticking of a clock. The slow deep inhalation of breath of someone else close by in the room. Movement on the floor captures his attention. A blackness pushes thin tendrils of itself from out of the prone figure, pools and inches forward towards the boy, an oily blackness as it seems to him. A spotlight snaps on illuminating what was previously obscured by the murkiness. He blinks his eyes and mind, startled and confused by the deep rich redness that with increasing velocity narrows the now meter gap between he and it. He slowly takes in the scene. An unknown man laying on his back with the handle of a knife protruding from his stomach. Within this pool of light by the feet of the male figure he can see a pair of blue high heeled shoes, ankles, calves, a woman’s . . ‘Shit.' Carl jerks into wakefulness unceremoniously. ‘Are you alright?’ Queries Shinona. ‘I bet you were travelling in the astral. I do that sometimes and if I come back to my body too quickly I jerk just like you did.’ She smiles, pleased with herself. ‘I guess that was what it was. I need a cup of tea.’ Another pleasant sunny morning as Carl sets off on his mountain bike, dressed in his black Endura FS260 lycra shorts and red and black Endura MT500 II jersey and on his head a Limar 950 helmet. The first occasion he has worn the whole outfit, in public anyway. He makes his way to through Fisherman’s Walk scattering pigeons, squirrels and terriers in all directions and coming to a breath-taking emergency stop in front of a dawdling dachshund before proceeding blithely on his way to the clifftop. At the top of the zigzag he surveys the panorama. Off to his left several miles away on the headland known as Hengistbury Head American expatriates are re-enacting the Iwo Jima flag raising of the stars and stripes. To the right of this across the Bay, the Isle of Wight shimmers like an iceberg in a light mist. In a recent poll of Wight residents it was found that forty five percent were in favour of ceding to Spain. Down the path and onto the prom. A fast sprint negotiating around pedestrians, dog walkers, Hare Krishna devotees, to the dilapidated first pier then on along the road, over-taking the landtrain, avoiding cars reversing out of parking spaces, pass the pair of lifts still in operation to the main pier. He dismounts in front of the entrance to the amusement arcade sweating slightly. On the forecourt are sited various stalls offering such services as handwriting analysis, guess your age, previous life incarnations or selling genuine Roman artefacts, sand paintings and Chinese herbal remedies. A scrawny brown-skinned man wearing turban and loincloth climbs up a rope and disappears. An assortment of children’s rides, a burger bar and a simulation ride provide further fun and food. A wind from the south west ripples the sea to the left of the pier sufficiently to attract a bunch of stoical surfers in the hope but mistaken belief that today will be the day they get to ride the Big One. However the surf report websites indicate that Kimmeridge is the place to be at today. After a rest of five minutes Carl sets off again along the prom to Durley Chine, Branksome, past the St Dolphinius steps to Sandbanks where the tarmacked surface comes to an end. To the foreground lie the hills of the Purbecks, a pale green. He turns to the right to join Shore Road and mounts the pavement adjacent to the sea wall where bamboo plants cluster and pauses to breath in the smell of the sea

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and rotting vegetation and take in the view. Several windsurfers fifty meters out into the Bay race and chase each other, skimming across the surface of the foot deep water, occasionally leaping into the air with balletic skill to perform aerial kungfu moves with murderous intent against a backdrop of Brownsea Island. Apropos of Brownsea Island Carl remembers with a little relish a girlfriend he bonked one summers day up by the gulls nests. Helen was her name. He cycles along the path with the wall with its tall ornate streetlamps and the Bay on his left and a border of pampas grasses to his right next to the Shore Road. He stops now and then to appreciate the occasional architecturally interesting house on the opposite side of the road before reaching the dilapidated jetty next to the Sailing Club site. He dismounts to push his bike up the steep Evening Hill taking in the pleasant view of the expanse of Bay dotted with little boats parked up and waiting, like good natured pets, for their owners return and the ferry looming off to the right some miles distant and considers that he will miss such views when he is gone. But not for awhile. Up and over for a long descent into the village of Lilliput with its gaggle of shops and service station then off to the left to rejoin the Bay at the boatyards where there are amassed the masts of little boats, a band of medieval knights waiting to go into battle. Along the Bay path marked with boulders on his left and with a grassy expanse on his right, interspersed with benches, the railway line closing in but kept at a safe distance. He meanders around adults with young children or dogs at a discretionary speed but slows down as he comes upon the public slipway and skirts the carpark before arriving at the old lifeboat station and Quay where he dismounts allowing the blood to re-flow into his numb bum. On a nearby moored boat live crabs are being boxed and offloaded. Small boys dangle their legs and fishing rods over the edge of the Quay. He pushes his bike past the marina and some of the expensive craft moored up there twinkle in the sunlight. Past the Lord Nelson and the Jolly Sailor to West Quay Road where he remounts and soon he is riding the cycle lane adjacent to Holes Bay Road, where he shoots off under the overpass to shortly pass ToysRUs on his left and it is a long haul up the incline which is the Dorset Way. Twelve miles or more of cycling are now taking their toll on Carl so he sidetracks up to the Tesco supermarket to buy a cold drink and a fruit bar. Having made his purchases he exits the shop and sits on a convenient bench, takes out his mobile and phones. ‘Hi Cathy. Its me.’ ‘I know it’s you.’ ‘Can you pick me up?’ ‘Pick you up? Why? What’s happened? Where are you?’ ‘Tesco. Tower Park. Bring some rope to tie my bike on your roof rack please.’ ‘Are you ill?’ ‘I’m knackered and feel sick. Hurry up.’ ‘It took her over a bloody hour to arrive so I was in a right foul mood and gave her a mouthful which didn’t go down very well as you can imagine. So she picked me up and dropped me off at home and went off in a huff. I was a bit hard on her I suppose but she needs to toughen up, emotionally that is, if she wants our relationship to go any further. I had a bath and a bite to eat. Then I rang Donna and then I rang you and here we are.’

‘Here we are, but where are they?’ asks Doug who is dressed to impress in jeans and a black leather waistcoat over a white t-shirt, hair tied back, golden earring in his left ear. He drowns half a pint of lager. ‘So you don’t know what this bird is like? I hope she is not a dog because I could do with a good shag. She is quite a looker.’ Doug nods in the direction of a tall willowy broad shouldered blonde standing at the bar. ‘I think you will find that she is a bloke.’ ‘My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Why are we meeting up here anyway?’ Asks Doug. ‘It’s a wine bar the girls are familiar with and it’s just round the corner from the Dark Angel Cabaret Bar where the band is playing remember.’ ‘I knew that. The last time I was in here I had a punch-up with a couple of midgets over who I thought was the greatest midget wrestler of all time. I maintained that Lord Littlebrook was the main man in the seventies whilst they were big fans of Little Beaver. It came to blows and one of the bastards nearly ripped my testicles off. I have been wary of small people ever since.’ He empties his glass down his throat. ‘Here comes Donna. And she is not alone.’ Carl raises his hand in greeting as Donna and an ample figured woman come into the wine bar. ‘Which one is mine? The blonde with the big tits or the brunette with the big hair?’ Asks Doug, rubbing his hands together with relish and a little mustard on the side, metaphorically speaking. ‘Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves. Britons always, always, always, have been slaves.’ Screams the androgynous blonde and purpled haired punk singer into the microphone. ‘So much for The Jim Reeves Fan Club having their roots in folk rock and post-modern abstract expressionism.’ Comments Carl loudly and somewhat sarcastically in the direction of Doug’s golden earring. ‘Lets fuck off shall we’ Responds Doug. He distracts the girls away from their auditorily challenged conversation and indicates with a finger, the door. The club is fairly deserted, most discerning patrons of music appreciation having had prior knowledge. A small bevy of adolescents however are up the other end of the room in front of the stage leaping up and down and giving each other head butts. At the bar sits a solitary overweight American lingerie saleman in a crumpled Burtons’ suit drinking large Jack Daniels wondering where it all went wrong. The ashtray in front of him is overflowing. The Kazkhstani barman keeps a wary eye on the American from a safe distance behind the bar whilst sitting on a stool leafing through an old Xmas Special Readers Wives magazine and pining for his true love he left behind in Astana. His attention is distracted by movement and he notices the group of four preparing to leave. With her long blonde hair and eyes of blue, intimidating tits and wide mouth the slimmer woman reminds him of an actress in a Russian soap that was very popular on national tv a few years ago. He thinks he would enjoy screwing her, if he was so inclined. The plumpish brunette with big hair in the skin-tight black slacks looks a little like Jackie, a Readers’ Wife from Arbroath. He assesses the two men as they finish their beers and rise from their seats. The pony tailed one with the solid physique. ‘Dolbaeb.’ He mutters under his breath. The other with the floppy hair, beige shirt and blue jeans raises his hand in farewell. ‘Men senin chechendi sikkim keledi.’ Yevgeniy says out loud.

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‘And the same to you brother.’ Carl responds. ‘Where are you taking us now? What’s next on the low spots tour? Queries Trisha, barely audible, through her mouthful of gum. Although they had been in the Dark Angel no more than thirty minutes the girls had already downed four Bacardi Breezers each. They are descending the steps to the street below when Donna trips and lunges into Carl who is a few steps lower than her. He is knocked off balance and stumbles into Doug who is about to put his right foot down onto the penultimate step. Doug loses his balance and falls flat onto the pavement. It has been raining consistently all evening. Trisha stands near the top of the steps and howls deliriously. Donna giggles as Doug picks himself up, his white t-shirt wet and stained. He manages a smile of resignation. ‘Why don’t we taxi over to Boscombe and go to a pub there? Then we are all near home.’ Suggests Carl feeling the evening has been and will be a waste of time. ‘Why don’t we catch a taxi and go back to our place?’ Suggests Trisha the last on terra firma. ‘ ’Why don’t we get a cab, call in at the offie and then go back to your place.’ Qualifies Doug. ‘And get you out of that wet t-shirt.’ Adds Trisha placing the palm of her left hand on Doug’s chest. Doug is six feet one inches tall in his barefeet and Trisha is five foot and six and one half inches tall flat headed. Coincidentally the difference in height between them is the same as the length of Doug’s penis when erect. The taxi drops them off half way down Massachusets Boulevard, a tree lined avenue of expensive and pretentious houses set behind high walls or fences, a short walk away from the cliff top and Shelley Park which shortly will have the honour of hosting the annual Mabon, where a coven of local witches; mainly call centre workers, insurance sales persons and complementary therapists, will celebrate this festival skyclad. ‘Wow. You live here. I thought you would be living in cheap bedsit in Walpole Road.’ Says Doug, impressed. ‘You cheeky bugger.’ Responds Trisha. Donna has been very quiet and uncommunicative most of the evening. An ornate high steel double gate bars the entrance to the grounds of the chunky four bedroomed house at the end of the short, lawn bordered, drive. Donna opens a black metal box attached to the nearest of two pillars, both of which have a lamp on it, with a small key and taps in the access code on the keypad situated therein. ‘I thought you two were on the dole.’ States Carl clutching a carrier bags with several bottles inside. ‘Lets go inside. I’m getting wet.’ Complains Trisha. ‘We can strip off together.’ Invites Carl. They hurry up the short drive to the illuminated portico with its marble Ionic column on each side. A electric lamp is positioned over the door. On the lawn in front of the garage to the left is a large tree. ‘That’s a nice elm tree. Is it a Coritanian?’ Carl asks of no one. ‘Don’t show your ignorance Carl. It’s a Wych.’ Contradicts Doug strongly. ‘An easy mistake to make in the dark.’ Defends Carl. ‘No it isn’t. And it’s not dark. You can see the shape of the leaves thanks to the light.’ ‘I wasn’t using the light I was relying on my sixth sense.’ ‘Are you two burks coming in or what?’ Demands Donna.

Carl is sitting on the three seater sofa next to Donna and across from them sit Doug and Trisha on matching furniture in the space designated living room on this open plan groundfloor. Tastefully though sparsely furnished and effected Donna has announced on entry that they are renting the place, not that the boys had asked, as if some explanation was deemed necessary. ‘We have only been here a few months, barely time to unpack.’ Donna laughs unconvincingly. ‘Anyone got any drugs?’ Still life on coffee table for bottles of white rum and cola, discarded tailor-made skins and filters, overflowing ashtray and vegetable matter. Doug has changed his dirty t-shirt for one of Trisha’s, yellow with an image of a red whale on the front. Donna is distracted, downing her drinks with little pleasure, quelling her demon dancing amongst the flames with their little toasting forks, courtesy of her catholic upbringing. Meanwhile Carl is interacting with Doug’s discourse whilst simultaneously and empathically soothing Donna’s psyche with care and concern as part of his therapist after-care programme, though with little success. He considers the argument that it has been an ill-advised move on his part, influenced strongly by his sacral chakra, to get involved with a vulnerable female client, a breach of therapist ethics no less. He takes a drag on the torpedo joint Doug has constructed and lets the thought fade into the ether. Trisha is up close with Doug awaiting the soon as possible moment when he will sweep her up in his arms and carry her upstairs to her bedroom for a good rogering. ‘The thing is that Saddam may be a thug, a kid from the wrong side of town with blood on his hands but he had to struggle to get to the top, to be the ruler of his country, which is more than could be said for those pussies Bush and Blair.’ Doug offers this gem with mock aggression. A ‘Challenge me if you can get your stoned thoughts together’ aggression. ‘You admire the self-made, street-fighting man that is clear but might doesn’t equal right, does it? If you go along with your argument then it’s alright for the bully in the playground to take the squirts dinner money even though he is in the sixth form debating society.’ Carl gives Donna’s bedenimed knee a squeeze. She smiles grimly. ‘What the fuck are you on about? Are you going to hog that joint all night Donna? Forget it. I’ll roll another.’ ‘Lets go upstairs and leave these two alone.’ Suggests Trisha in a loud whisper. ‘In a minute babe. Women should be obscene and not heard.’ He laughs a long staccato that dissolves into a splutter when Trisha yanks his nearest nipple several times. Carl also laughs heartily. ‘That Karl Marx sure had some good one-liners.’ He manages whilst choking on a laugh. ‘Where was I? Oh yeah. Saddam doesn’t see himself as a tyrant, more like a misunderstood benevolent dictator. A socialist with strong right-wing leanings. Take Pablo Escobar, the most feared man in Columbia by the government and law enforcement but the people in his hometown loved him and turned out in droves to pay their respects at his funeral.’ Doug delivers this soliloquy slowly whilst crouched over the coffee table rolling again. ‘I am not saying I’m a Saddamite, just putting forward a different point of view. Democracy is fine, but if you want fast results there is nothing like a tyrant and lets face

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it they are not so easy to find but when you do find them you find they are in control. If you get my drift.’ ‘You are talking a load of crap. I’m going to slip into something more comfortable. Are you coming up? ’ Invites Trisha. ‘In a minute. The media take sides, distort and manipulate. To me Arthur Scargill is a hero of the Trade Unions and Labour Movement and if I had my way I would knock Nelson off his column and put a statue of Arthur up there in its place. See you later.’ Promises Doug as he rises and climbs the wooden stairs with a hand on Trisha’s comfortably squeezable buttock. ‘Do you want a refill?’ Carl asks Donna. ‘No thanks. I’ll have one of your cigarettes though.’ She takes one from the pack on the table and lights it. ‘So why are you so miserable Donna?’ Carl takes hold of her hand and rests it in her lap and gives her a peck on the cheek. A tear trickles down her cheek. ‘I don’t want to be a single girl. I want to be married with kids, an old fashioned housewife. I want to wear a pinny and big pink fluffy rabbit slippers. That is what I have always wanted and now it’s all fucked up.’ More tears. ‘Mmm. Well you can always go back to Lewisham. Can’t you? Pick up the pieces. Make amends. Bury the hatchet.’ Donna lifts her head up and gives his an icy stare. ‘It’s the hatchet I’m worried about. But it wasn’t a hatchet. It was a knife. I stabbed him and did a runner and I haven’t been back since.’ Carl involuntarily shifts a centimetre away from her. ‘Was it serious?’ ‘I didn’t hang around to find out. But I heard later, since we’ve been down here, that he had to go into surgery but luckily I missed his vital organs. He’s alive but pretty pissed off I think. That’s why we are down here. Hiding out. Anyway it’s not your problem. I have to sort it out. You can pour me another drink if you want.’ ‘So where does Trisha fit into this? Is she your minder?’ ‘We are old friends. She came down to keep me company. Thanks.’ She takes a large swallow of her drink and lights up another cigarette. Carl crosses over to the opposite settee recently vacated and starts rolling a spliff from the makings on the table. The dining space is towards the rear of the room and beyond are large windows and glass doors leading beyond. ‘What is beyond those glass doors? A patio?’ He asks mildly curious. ‘There is a conservatory leading into the garden. Trish and I spent many hours out lazing on the sun-loungers or sitting at the table under the parasol this summer.’ ‘You haven’t got much of a tan.’ Carl has already observed. ‘I get burnt easily so I have to cover up.’ She clarifies. Carl lights up. ‘Mind if I have a look?’ A slight movement of his head to the left indicates where. He gets up and walks past the highly polished dining room table and opens the conservatory doors. The light from the living room is sufficient to dimly illuminate the interior and yet be able to see the indistinct layout of the garden beyond. Carl enters and has a look round. He can see several wicker chairs, a two-seater, a slanting exercise bench, several sets of dumbbells, a rowing machine and several large pot plants. ‘I sometimes sit in here at night on my own if I can’t sleep. It is so peaceful.’ Donna

walks towards him. ‘I wrap a blanket around me if its chilly.’ ‘Here.’ He hands her the joint which she accepts. They stand looking outwards. Either side of the doors leading into the garden is a large Malaysian ceramic pot containing a ficus midnight tree, both over three feet tall and with twisted trunks. ‘It must be the magic of the night but I want to kiss you.’ Comments Carl and follows the words with the action. Donna does not resist but neither does she encourage. She keeps her lips shut. He stands up close, their bodies touching, and strokes her face and pushes her hair back and presses his lips against hers and says. ‘Don’t you want me.’ She turns her head away from his kisses. ‘I’m not in the mood.’ She stands stiff and unyielding. ‘Don’t you want to feel my cock in your cunt?’ He presses his erection against her and squeezes a buttock, kisses her wetly and slowly her mouth opens to allow the entrance of his tongue. Holding her head with one hand he kisses her hard for several minutes whilst his left hand fondles her right breast. ‘I want to fondle your tits. Suck your nipples.’ He pulls away from her for his hand to find the buttons of her black silk blouse. ‘I want you naked.’ He adds as he slowly strips her naked. ‘You are like a beautiful marble Greek statue.’ She stands immobile before him as he caresses her breasts, sucks her nipples and runs his fingers down her stomach, appreciating her flesh and form, aesthetically pleased by her She-ness. He feels her relaxing even before he eases a couple of fingers into gradually welcoming cunt. ‘I don’t know if I want to fuck you or paint you. Whilst I make up my mind why don’t you suck on my dick.’ He pushes her gently into a kneeling position and unzips his trousers. ‘That’s it. That’s nice. Mind the teeth.’ He strokes her hair as she works her stoned magic, playing his cock like a wind instrument, the genie’s lamp. ‘Can you feel the bulging vein on the right side of it, pulsating with desire for you.’ Donna is sucking him enthusiastically now. She holds him with two fingers whilst the other hand is down between her thighs. He ups his tempo from the irregular small thrusts to those more frequent and firmer and his hands change from stroke to hold. He sways a little and decides he needs something solid to grab hold of. ‘Um. That’s really nice Donna. You are an artiste. Stand up now. That’s it. Lean forward. Hold onto the arms of the chair.’ ‘Time for some hard riding’ Carl tells himself as he quickly strips to his socks, grips Donna’s buttocks and fucks her in the time honoured traditional caveman manner. With a hard push and a whoosh Carl ejaculates and Donna moans with pleasure. He withdrawals and Donna’s sigh is one of disappointment. She stands erect and twists and turns to face him. She kisses him and asks him to lay down. ‘There on the exercise bench.’ He lies down and she stands astride him and lowering herself shoves his wilting erection into her cunt. She grinds down on his pelvis and fingers her clitoris. One hundred and thirty nine seconds later she shudders and lets out a whoop as she climaxes. ‘My therapist knows best.’ She admits as she detaches herself and stands upright facing into the house. ‘They must have finished upstairs, come down and turned the light out. Bloody hell I

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can see Doug sitting at the dining table.. He must have been watching us. Fuck, he just waved to me.’ She retreats to the side out of view. ‘I hope he enjoyed the show. I’ll have to put his rent up now.’ Carl says as he casually though decisively picks his pants up off the floor. ‘I’m off.’ Doug announces as Carl returns to the interior. ‘You are? Ok.’ ‘Yeah. I’ll walk round your place and get my van.’ ‘I thinks it’s stopped raining.’ Informs Carl. He stands studying the Marlene Healey ‘sections of my destiny’ colour print on the wall whilst sipping his mug of coffee. Donna has disappeared up the open staircase over ten minutes ago and he considers making his departure. He turns towards the staircase, as he hears movement, and Donna takes a couple of steps down and stops. She is wearing a long white t-shirt that stops six inches above the knee. ‘Trisha wants to know if you want to screw her.’ Carl walks over to the facing settee and sits down. ‘No thanks.’ He replies. ‘He doesn’t want to.’ Calls out Donna to the out of sight Trisha. ‘Why not.’ Asks Donna. ‘I don’t put my dick into a cunt that’s filled with another guys spunk. Friend or not’. ‘Because Doug came inside of you.’ Donna relays. ‘She says she has wiped herself.’ ‘Some other time maybe. When she has given her fanny a good sluice out. No need to say that.’ Donna descends and Carl rises to meet her. He gives her a peck on the cheek, thinks better of it and kisses her lingeringly on the lips whilst his hands wander over her soft form. ‘Come round tomorrow evening between five and six if you want. Trisha will be out.’ ‘I just might do that.’ Carl breathes in deep the cool damp air as he strolls amongst the fallen leaves that carpet the pavement beneath the tall horse chestnut trees. ‘A bite to eat, a smoke and a shit and that’s me for the night.’ A fox stealthily walks across a front lawn, hears Carl’s voice and pauses momentarily, ears cocked, sensing for danger, then proceeds on its way. As does Carl. Chapter 13: 'There is a golden thread that runs through the lives and the teachings of all the prophets, seers, sages and saviours in the world’s history, through the lives of all men and women of truly great and lasting power. All that they have ever done or attained to has been done in full accordance with law. What one has done, all may do. This same golden thread must enter into the lives of all who today, in this busy work-aday world of ours, would exchange impotence for power, weakness and suffering for abounding health and strength, pain and unrest for perfect peace, poverty of whatever nature for fullness and plenty. Each is building his own world. We both build from within and we attract from without.

Thought is the force with which we build, for thoughts are forces. Like builds like and like attracts like. In the degree that thought is spiritualised does it become more subtle and powerful in its workings. This spiritualising is in accordance with law and is within the power of all. Everything is first worked out in the unseen before it is manifested in the seen, in the ideal before it is realised in the real, in the spiritual before it shows in the material. The realm of the unseen is the realm of cause. The realm of the seen is the realm of effect. The nature of effect is always determined and conditioned by the nature of its cause.' These are the words of Ralph Waldo Trine written over one hundred years ago in the preface to his enlightening book ‘In Tune with the Infinite.’ I would like you to consider these words as you leave here today and consider how the thoughts expressed are relevant to your personal situation. Copies of this book are available afterwards from the bookshop so see Sue before you leave. Have a pleasant afternoon. Now I hand you back to Stewart.’ Carl picks up his notes from the lectern and steps down from the podium to regain his seat next to Cathy in the front row. Built from scratch by Stewart and his female acolytes in the mid-eighties the Centre is of an unassuming purpose-built breeze block construction design much favoured by youth organisations and south Atlantic fishermen. Fifteen minutes later Cathy pulls out from the kerb and is driving them to her house. ‘The lamb is in the oven cooking on a low heat.’ She informs Carl. ‘Stop at an off-license and I’ll get a bottle of red wine. What do you think about a daytrip to Cherbourg later in the week? It is your birthday and we could stock up on wines and French letters, camembert and sticks.’ ‘That would be nice. It is rather tiring though. We should get a cabin for the return journey.’ ‘What did you think of the meeting? I don’t know whose idea it was to allow stuttering Stan to lead the guided meditation but he certainly stopped me falling asleep. Every word was a cliff-hanger.’ ‘He can’t help it. He deserves a chance.’ Cathy slows down as a squirrel crosses the road. ‘What do you think of the passage I read out?’ ‘I loved it. I love everything you do. Even if I do feel sore afterwards.’ ‘You love, but do you like?’ Carl looks at her. ‘They are the same, more or less.’ ‘Not really. To like is to compare, to prefer one thing over another, inclusive. Whereas love is exclusive, mindless, a dumb beast without rationality, or choice.’ ‘Mmm. The meeting has not put you in a good mood then. I don’t know where you are going with this but we need to get a jar of mint sauce.’ ‘Stop here.’ Carl’s phone chirp-chirps. Carl draws his wallet from the inside jacket pocket and hands Cathy a tenner. ‘You go ahead. Hi Doug. Yes. Good. That was quick. Glad you are pleased. Should keep out the wind and rain. What did you think of Trisha? You did. Really. Any other piercings. Four star. Yeah. I might just do that. You dirty sod. No. We have just left the Centre and are going back to her place for dinner. That’s nice of you. I’ll call round in the next couple of days. Here’s Cathy now. Ciao. Got what we need? Wrong number. The caller wanted Carl Sagan.’

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‘You can be hard work.’ Comments Cathy. ‘That was very nice. I’m not keen on mange-toute though.’ ‘Have you had enough?’ ‘Plenty.’ ‘You go on upstairs and get the bed warm and I’ll bring up the coffee.’ ‘Is the portable up there?’ ‘It’s is the office.’ ‘I’ll take it up.’ ‘Uh. Sorry.’ Carl rubs the sleepiness out of his face and gradually his vision and mind come into focus. Cathy is sitting up in her bed next to Carl who now rolls over onto his side to face her. ‘You must be overdoing it.’ Remarks Cathy pithily. ‘I need a holiday. Maybe go to that retreat centre you went to.’ Carl sits up and sees that ‘Dads Army’ is screening. ‘It’s for women only.’ ‘I’ll have to go in drag then.’ ‘You’ll never get away with it in the communal showers.’ ‘I knew it was a lesbian training camp. It didn’t work for you though. You ought to get a refund.’ Both are still in their underwear. Cathy is naturally in blue, bra and knickers. ‘What about when you were younger, growing up. Did you have a crush on any of your friends, experiment a little? ‘No. Yes, I had a few crushes but there was nothing physical.’ ‘Nothing overt. Nada.’ ‘How about a cup of tea and a slice of cake?’ Suggests Cathy. ‘Good idea.’ ‘I said I would pop round to see Mum and Dad between six and seven.’ ‘Your point is? Queries he. ‘Time is running out.’ ‘The ever diminishing sands of time.’ Cathy is out of bed and slipping on her Chinese silk dressing gown with the red dragon on the back, a present from Carl. ‘What do you mean? You are not ill.’ ’The older you get the faster time goes by.’ ‘Rubbish. You are only a few years older than me anyway so if that was true it wouldn’t be true of you, me, us. We are too young. The time is the same for both of us.’ She is a little rankled. ‘There is no way to prove it one way or the other. So hurry back with the tea.’ Carl picks up his mobile from the side of the bed and takes it with him into the bathroom and presses the buttons. ‘Hi Donna. Yes it is I. Are you busy tonight. Will she? Ok. I’m taking a piss. Yes I do. I think of it often. See you later.’ ‘A nice choc fudge cake. M&S I suspect.’ Carl licks his lips appreciatively. ‘You know what I would like to do?’ ‘Open up a sweetshop in Kathmandu?' He hazards a guess. Not too dangerous in the circumstances. She pecks him on the cheek and laughs. ‘No silly. Dip your cock in runny chocolate and lick it off.’ Her eyes are illuminated by an inner light that Carl has not seen before.

‘Getting to be quite a mischievous minx aren’t you.’ ‘It’s a new role for me. Hold still. You have a smidgen of cake in the corner of your mouth’ She licks it off. They kiss. They remove their last articles of clothing. Cathy is feeling frisky but not so Carl. She feels his limp cock under the duvet and slides underneath to juice it up. After a few minutes of little activity on his part she pops her head up. ‘What’s wrong? Have I done something wrong?’ ‘No silly. I haven’t been sleeping very well recently. Having weird dreams. I think I am being haunted.’ ‘Haunted? Like a dead person haunting?’ A concerned look settles momentarily on her face as she pushes herself up to look him in the face.’ ‘Haunted by my younger self perhaps. Trying to help me to remember.’ ‘Remember what?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse Cathy. I don’t know. Or it could be an astral time travel experience.’ ‘I sometimes wake up in the night and feel you are with me.’ ‘Really. Maybe that is where I get to when I’m asleep. My astral body visiting you. If I turn up again send me home because I’m knackered in the mornings. That’s nice. Use your mouth again.' Cathy works enthusiastically and dexterously, tossing the duvet aside rubbing her crotch against his leg, and is rewarded with a stiffy. Hot and sweaty due to her endeavours, eyes shiny with desire she looks up at Carl who momentarily feels guilty about consciously saving himself for later. ‘Come here and lay next to me.’ He commands. She does as bidden and he enters her, thrusts slowly, counts to twenty and back again and fills his mind with images of icebergs. She puts a hand down to her clit and applying pressure brings herself to orgasm. After a few minutes he rolls over. ‘It is not like you.’ Cathy comments innocently. ‘I am not at the fuckers little helper stage yet though.’ ‘No of course not.’ Donna’s back is arched, her head resting against the pillows, her legs gripping around the waist of the kneeling Carl as his hands roughly grip her buttocks and his cock fills her cunt. In her peripheral consciousness she hears Trisha’s voice calling from downstairs. ‘Nearly there. One more minute. He’s coming. Ah. Ah.’ He is jerking his spunk into her and she is riding the crest of the wave and crashing on the rocks. Trisha walks in. ‘Oops. I didn’t know you were in. Don’t mind me.’ So they don’t. After several minutes Carl releases Donna and lays on top of her for awhile taking in his surroundings once again. The salient points are, as he catalogues them in his mind for future reference, the commodious bedroom in which he is now situated, furnished with the oversized bed on which he is now laying albeit on top of Donna, which is in fact two double beds pushed together and the large and extremely rare ink and charcoal drawing entitled ‘Mrs Hepplewhite has friends around for afternoon tea’ by the eighteenth century rake and pornographer Algernon Gripthong-Thinne. All billowing breasts, britches and blouses the scene depicts two ladies pleasuring and being pleasured by two gentlemen whilst a lady and gentleman sip tea on a couch nearby. Gripthong-Thinne aka Prisoner 1442 emigrated to Australia upon his release and opened up a gentleman's drinking den and brothel in the Outback and met an untimely demise at the hands of a disgruntled

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itinerant camel herder. Meanwhile Trisha is several meters away opening the wardrobe and pulling open drawers. She looks smart in her black skirt and jacket. Carl is now sitting up and leaning back against a headboard, lighting a cigarette. ‘How was the service Trish?' Asks Donna also smoking a cigarette. Trisha has hung up her jacket and is unzipping her skirt. ‘Invigorating. The sermon this evening was on the subject of sharing. It looks like you had a good service yourself. Mind if I join in?’ ‘Come and sit over this side. A bird in both hands you know.’ Trisha pulls down her tights and removes her blouse and reveals her plump, shapely body bra-ed and knickered in coffee cream. Donna’s reaction is noncommittal. She gets up off the bed and takes a tissue from a box on the bedside table and wipes between her legs as Trisha gets on the bed and crawls close to Carl. ‘Cute little fella.’ She says taking his flaccid penis between several fingers and rubbing it gently to resuscitate. ‘Give it a lick. That always help.’ Suggests Carl. ‘I think the healing you have been giving me has been a great help. I have even cut down on my smoking,’ Claims Donna as she lights up another cigarette. ‘You were at a low ebb last night but you finally picked up. I think your chakras are more balanced now though obviously you still think and feel things but, what’s that in your mouth Trisha?’ She stops her sucking and looks up. ‘My tongue stud.’ Carl sees her eyes are brown. ‘Carry on then. It is also the subtle planes, the astral, etheric and spiritual that can be exposed and unprotected by traumatic events. You could wake up one morning with a bad headache because your psychic antenna have picked up a distress signal from a planet that was destroyed a million light years ago. This is why these finer vibrations need our attention. Just like teeth. Dental hygiene equals mental and spiritual hygiene. We are holistic beings. We owe it to ourselves to be as perfect as we can be. All energies in balance and harmony. Super Man and Woman. Gods! Look around the world and see how miserably we are failing. Wasn’t it Bob Dylan who said the Kingdom of Heaven is within. Careful with the teeth Trisha.’ ‘How about some music up here.’ He adds. ‘The cd player is in the kitchen. I’ll go and get it. Do you want a drink Carl?’ Donna rises from her seat. ‘A bottled beer would be fine though anything else.’ Trailing off. Donna pads out of the room. ‘Sit up here with me. It is nice what you are doing but apart from giving me a clean dick you are not going to accomplish much for awhile.’ Carl says to Trisha. ‘You and Donna have been friends for a long time I presume?’ ‘Ever since school.’ She strokes his lightly haired chest distractedly. ‘Why don’t you take your bra off. It is digging into me.’ ‘Sorry. I am wearing my underwired church bra with the extra support.’ ‘Looks like you need it. Support that is. Nice butterfly tattoo. A Red Admiral I believe. ’ The areolas are large and light pink, the nipples ripe for nibbling. ‘All in good time,’ Thinks Carl, checking himself.

Donna returns into the room still naked carrying a tray of bottles and glasses she puts down on a small table then pulls up a light armchair and the table next to the bed. ‘Trish used to be in the local church choir. Didn’t you Trish?’ She pours shots of white rum into three glasses and tops them up with cola. Carl looks from Donna to Trisha. ‘She had to leave when the Verger put her up the duff. How old were you Trish? Fourteen?’ ‘Carl doesn’t want to know about this Donna.’ ‘What happened to the music?’ Carl enquires of Donna. ‘I’ll go and get it. Here are your drinks.’ ‘I take it there is some friction between you two. A rivalry.’ Carl says to Trisha when Donna is on her way downstairs. ‘We are always like this when together.’ ‘Are they real?’ He jokes as he has an exploratory feel of her tits. They kiss and he continues to fondle her as Donna re-enters the room and fiddles about with the cd player. Carl sucks on the nearest nipple whilst his left hand wanders down to help Trisha out of her knickers. ‘The Jam’ punches the airwaves. ‘Lets have a drink.’ Donna sits in the armchair smoking a cigarette, her knees are up, the lips of her fanny open and inviting, beckoning, between her dark blonde fanny hair. ‘I put you down as a Rod Stewart fan.’ Says Carl to Donna. Trisha is preoccupied with Carl’s stirring cock. ‘This is the soundtrack to ‘High Fidelity,’ the movie. I have seen it three times. I love John Cusack.’ Declares Donna.‘ ‘Grosse Point Blank is good.’ Carl states. ‘I am a big Rod Stewart fan.’ Enthuses Trisha sitting up. Carl leans over and puts his drink on the cabinet and without more ado fastens his mouth onto Trisha’s nipple and strokes her curly bush before slipping a couple of fingers into her moist cunt. ‘Who loves the sun?’ Asks the Velvet Underground. Trisha moans appreciatively. A female voice sings about ‘having nothing at all’ and Carl turns his head towards Donna to see that she is stimulating herself with a large purple vibrator that has an illuminated head. Carl continues to finger-fuck Trisha for a few minutes then suggests she continues with her oral work. ‘Nearly there Trish.’ He affirms. Donna stands up and comes and lays down on his other side and kisses him lingeringly. ‘Can you feel that vein along the side of my prick pulsating with desire.’ ‘Come and lick me out Trish. That will get him hard.’ Carl is almost lost for words. ‘Pass me my drink Donna. My mouth is rather dry. Actually I’ll get it myself.’ Carl takes a drink and lights a cigarette as Donna pushes herself up the headboard and Trisha positions her head between her thighs. ‘Put a couple of pillows under her arse.’ Directs Carl, his cock standing at attention. Trisha tentatively gives Donna’s clit a couple of licks but he intuitively knows this is for show. ‘Give her some hard licking Trish. Make her groan with pleasure.’ Donna closes her eyes and fondles her tits and she is not acting. Carl stubs out the butt and kneels on the bed next to Donna and takes over the tit fondling. She opens her eyes and putting her arms around his neck kisses him. Carl puts a hand on Trisha’s hair lacquered head.

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‘She has a nice cunt doesn’t she Trish. Bury your tongue in there. Make her come.’ A shiver runs through Donna. He disentangles himself from Donna and shuffles down the bed. ‘Kneel up Trish so your arse is in the air. That’s it.’ He positions himself at her backside and slaps her bum half a dozen times to which she responds with groans , pulls her open using both hands then eases several fingers into her cunt. ‘Up a bit.’ He slides his cock in and grips her well-covered hips firmly. ‘Is that nice Carl? Has she a nice cunt? Finger me Trish.’ Donna is breathing hard. Carl gives Trisha some deep strokes then withdraws to the tip then plunges in hard. ‘Fuck her Carl. Give her a hard fuck.’ Encourages Donna. He obliges. ‘Stop squirming Trisha. That’s it.’ Carl takes a little time out of mind and goes onto automatic as the girls are occupied. ‘Trisha has a roomier cunt. Probably had a kid or two. A real woman whereas Donna has a tight girl’s pussy. Something to be said for both of them. No need to hurry. I’ll come when I am ready. I wonder what Cathy. Forget it. What’s happening. Time to get back in there.’ He allows himself to re-sensitize. ‘How is it for you Donna?’ Enquires Carl. ‘Trish is a fantastic licker. How about you?’ ‘She has a great cunt. ’ ‘I like her cunt too. Fuck her, fuck her cunt. Ah Trish.’ Calls out Donna. Carl feels he is ready to burst, holistically up for it. ‘Harder, harder, fuck her harder. Fuck her cunt. Fuck the cunt.’ Implores Donna. ‘Shut up Donna I’m trying to concentrate.’ ‘Spiritual healing at its most intense.’ Thinks Carl. ‘I’m coming Donna. I’m gonna come.’ He warns gripping Trisha’s sweaty slippery body. ‘Uh. Uh. Uh.’ Totally focussed now, every stroke perfect, controlled and controlling. He ejaculates into Trisha and twenty more thrusts and she is shuddering as her climax ripples through her. Donna is thrusting her groin onto Trisha’s face and fingers as she too reaches orgasm. ‘Kazaam. The chain reaction.’ Calls out Carl apopros. ‘Let me come up for air.’ Gasps Trisha. ‘Fucking hell. Ahhh.’ Is Donna’s contribution to the after-ambience. ‘Is that the Kinks?’ He asks. ‘Excuse me girls but I need a piss.’ On his return Donna is still on the bed smoking and Trisha is sitting on the edge of the bed with mouth open exercising her tongue and with a full glass in one hand. ‘It can be hard on the tongue all that licking. I prescribe keeping your mouth shut for twenty four hours.’ ‘Oh thanks.’ Trisha grimaces. ‘That was quite a performance. A living work of art. We ought to take it on the road and earn mucho ackers.’ No response. The girls are subdued. He starts getting dressed. ‘I guess I’ll mosey on then. Come and see me out Donna.’ She gets up and goes to the wardrobe and pulls a horizontally striped tight-fitting dress out and on. ‘See you again Trisha.’ Gives her a little wave. As Donna and Carl descend the open staircase he asks her. ‘Are you two alright? You are not going to be fighting each other are you?’ She shakes

her head. At the bottoms of the steps Carl holds Donna by the shoulders at arms length and looks her in the eyes. ’I want you to come and see me in the next few days. I think you need a further therapy session. Ok.’ She nods in response. He kisses her briefly and leaves the house. ‘I need a good soak in the bath.’ He tells himself. Chapter 14: The black girl wearing the vivid purple one-piece swimsuit breaststrokes cleanly and swiftly through the water, reaches the far side, turns and returns to Carl who is taking a breather holding onto the edge of the pool. The facility is not being used by many patrons at twenty past two in the afternoon. The lunchtime swimmers have departed and the school kids wont arrive for at least an hour. A couple of young women with toddlers, an elderly couple swimming in tandem, Carl with Ann. ‘You are a great swimmer. Me, I expend a lot of energy and hardly move at all.’ ‘You’re technique must be wrong.’ She leans against the wall her arms spread out holding the guttering that runs the length. Her breasts strain against the shiny material, goosebumps on her arms, her nipples thimbles of ice. ‘Yes. I am going to fuck her.’ Carl decides for the first time. Ann launches herself across the pool towards the steps and climbs out. Carl pictures Ann naked laying on a purple towel on a white beach juxtaposed between two coconut palms. He sits beside her smoothing tanning oil onto her stomach and thighs and . . He waves to Ann as she dives off the side of the pool and hardly creates a splash as she enters the water. She swims underwater and resurfaces six inches in front of him laughing. ‘I’ll race you across the pool and back.’ She challenges and is off before Carl can reply. He is three quarters of the first width when she passes him on the way back. She is sitting on the side of the pool with her legs dangling over the edge when he finishes. ‘That is not fair. You are probably super-enhanced with pharmaceuticals,’ Carl claims in his defence. ‘I’m cold. Are you coming?’ Asks Ann. ‘Sure. You can take a shower back at my place.’’ ’I can’t leave here with chlorine in my hair, so I have to take a shower now.’ ‘Ok. I’ll meet in you in the café.’ She streaks off across the pool doing the Crawl, her over swinging arms a blur, creating a wake that could upturn small boats and toddlers in rubber rings. ‘Strip completely. That’s it. Lie on your stomach. Don’t get the wrong idea but I’m going to undress as well. Oils can be a bugger if they get on your clothing.’ Carl removes his jeans and sweatshirt. ‘I have always wanted a proper massage but just never got round to it.’ Ann lies on her stomach her head turned to the right, cheek resting on her joined hands. ‘Let me put on some music.’ Carl puts a disk into the player and presently gentle electronic music wafts around the room. ‘So Ann just relax. And enjoy the experience.’ ‘What oil are you going to use on me?’ ‘Ylang Ylang.’

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‘Sounds the name of a panda.’ ‘I will start with the back of your legs, then thighs, back and shoulders then you can turn over and I’ll do your front.’ Carl sits on the side of the bed, opens up the small bottle and pours a few millilitres of the sweet floral smelling oil into the palm of his hand. He effleurages the right leg, applies friction using his thumbs on the calf muscles, kneads and finishes off with more effleurage. ‘What is this oil good for?’ ‘It has a calming effect. Good for relieving stress, high blood pressure and psycho-sexual problems. Amongst others.’ He repeats the procedure on the back of the left leg and starts on the back, straddling her legs. After effleurage he applies pressure either side of the spine with his thumbs followed by movements with finger tips and palms. After five minutes of working on her shoulders her breathing slows and Carl pauses his ministrations. After several minutes she stirs. ‘I must have dozed off.’ She says warily. ‘Flip over onto your back. I’ll do your neck, stomach and thighs.’ A few minutes spent on doing her neck and he moves onto her stomach. ‘No. Don’t do my tummy.’ ‘Ok. Legs?’ Effleurage of the leg, kneading of the outer thigh, the inner thigh.’ Ann is breathing deeply and there is a calculatedness in every one of Carl’s moves. ‘Carl stop. Don’t put your fingers inside me.’ ‘Sorry. No problem.’ He draws back.’ ‘I want you to make love to me but I will probably have an allergic reaction to that stuff.’ ‘Sure. I need to wash my hands. You can have a shower if you wish. Another one.’ ‘The massage was wonderful though. Really.’ ‘Towels in the cupboard. Help yourself. I’ll tidy up here. Make a cup of tea. See you downstairs.’ Carl walks out of the bedroom and as he enters the bathroom he hears Ann saying. ‘Shit. Shit, Shit.’ ‘So I was thinking of getting a moped or scooter which will be much cheaper than the car which I really cannot afford.’ Ann confides. They are sitting in the modcon kitchen at the table. ‘I used to have a Triumph.’ ‘What cc was it?’ ‘I don’t know. It was a typewriter.’ ‘Ha. Ha.’ ‘Unaccustomed as I am to cooking you can stay for dinner if you wish. We can get in a couple of bottles of wine. You can get squiffy and I can seduce you. Or vice versa.’ ‘I would love to but I have to be up at five so I have to get to bed early.’ ‘So when have you an evening off?’ ‘Saturday or Sunday.’ ‘Have you ever been to Jazz Club? I think it might be open.’ ‘No. It sounds awful.’ ‘It’s a bit of a dive but it can be fun.’ ‘Let’s do it then.’

‘You’re looking great. The French image again. You won’t be laying on the couch today. Let me move the coffee table out of the way. I just want you to relax whilst I talk and you do not have to do anything except follow a few simple instructions I give you. I will say things but you do not have to respond unless I say respond. Ok? No need to say anything. Are you thirsty? Not too light is it? Just look at me. Sit up straight now and take a few relaxing deep breaths. Be serious now. Ok. Look at me. Look at a spot in the middle of my forehead. Concentrate on that spot on my forehead. Take a deep breath and focus on that spot on my forehead. Now hold out your arms. Straight out in front of you whilst focussing on that spot on my forehead. Now I am moving closer to you and placing my hands under yours. Palm to palm. In a moment I am going to ask you to push down on my hands. I will count from one to four and when I reach four you will find it impossible to keep your eyes open and you will fall into a deep sleep. One. Keep focussed on that spot on my forehead. Your arms are becoming heavy. Two. You are pressing down hard, down harder. Your arms are tired and your eyelids are heavy. Three. You are very drowsy now. You can press down no harder. Your arms ache and your eyelids are so heavy you can’t keep them open any longer. Four. You close your eyes and as I pull away my hands you relax yours and put them by your side. You are asleep. In a deep, deep sleep. Take a deep, deep breath now. Exhale and relax. Breath easily. Although you can hear my voice clearly every other sound is muted and indistinct. Just listen to the sound of my voice and breath easily. Picture yourself now standing at the top of a staircase. A marble staircase. There are ten steps descending and you are going to see yourself stepping down these ten steps and with each step you take you are going deeper and deeper into the trance state. One. . .’ Carl sits back and stretches and yawns. ‘Can you hear me Donna? Respond.’ ‘Yes. I hear you.’ ‘I will ask you to open your eyes in a moment. You will open your eyes but you will still be in a trance and will not awaken till I request you to do so. I will no longer say ‘respond’ but you will do as I say and answer my questions as I request. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Open your eyes.’ She opens her eyes. They are a little red and watery. Carl pushes his chair back a space and returns the coffee table to its usual position. ‘Take a tissue and wipe your eyes Donna.’ She does so. ‘Sit back and relax. What is your relationship to Trisha?’ ‘We are friends.’ ‘How long have you two been friends?’ ‘We went to school together.’ ‘Have you always been close friends?’ ‘Yes.’ Donna sits very still and quiet. Eyes fixed ahead but eyelids fluttering frequently. ‘How long have you two been having an affair?’ No response. ‘Respond Donna.’ ‘About a year.’ ‘How often did you see each other?’ ‘We are friends. All the time.’ Donna shuffles a little in her seat.

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‘Ok. Take a few deep breaths and relax. How often did you meet and have sex?’ ‘Once or twice a week.’ ‘Who takes the dominant role?’ ‘Trish’ ‘When did your husband find about you and Trisha?’ ‘In May.’ ’This is what caused the argument with your husband which led to you losing your baby and stabbing your husband?’ Her eyelids flicker rapidly and beads of sweat form on her forehead. ‘Yes.’ She affirms reluctantly. ‘Nearly over Donna. Take a deep breath and relax. I am going to tell you to do certain things that you will do in the next few days but you forget that I have told you to do them. You will think that they are your ideas and you will feel that they are the right things to do. What I will tell you to do is to help you, is in your own best interest and is what you really want. Do you understand? Donna.’ ‘I understand.’ ‘I am going to instruct you to do some things but you will forget that I have told you to do them. Your conscious mind will forget what I am going to say to you but your subconscious will remember and will act accordingly. You will also forget what we have talked about in this session today, it will be just a foggy memory. It is not important to remember what we talked about but only to retain in your subconscious the instructions I am going to give you. If you understand I want you to lift your right hand from your lap and touch your forehead. Do this now.’ She does as instructed. ‘Now Donna. . . . ‘ Carl is in the office momentarily looking out the window onto the back garden having come to the conclusion that the grass needs cutting and the hedge trimming swiftly followed by a qualifying conclusion that he will ask Cathy to come round one day soon and sort it out when the phone rings. ‘Hullo.' Neutral business voice. ‘Cathy! I was thinking about you. Thinking we must take a tour of my garage sometime and find the lawnmower and hedge cutter, if they haven’t absconded, and tidy up the garden. I was thinking more like tomorrow. You can spare a few hours surely. First thing in the morning. I’ll provide lunch. You know you want to. On second thoughts I have an appointment so we will have to make it another time. I went to Tesco to get a few things. You. Really. About that publishing scheme. Just as well. I was thinking of a delivery service. What with everyone one buying stuff off the internet these days it is an expanding market. Have a sniff around. You are more than just a mere accountant Cathy. There is nothing mere about you. What? Carl Gustav. Cool. What time is it on? BBC2. Thanks. Yes I will be in. I am going to check my emails and surf the Net for awhile. See you tomorrow. About nine weather permitting. Ciao.’ He puts the phone down and continues to check his emails, mainly of the junk variety eg Cialis, penis extensions, cheap American mortgages, no subject, hi etc on Boltblue. ‘What’s this?’ Carl opens a link to Photo-amateurs and is welcomed by a display of partially or fully naked women. Normal women showing off their charms. ‘And very nice to. Amateur! Explicit! So I have to join to view the nitty gritty stuff. Submit photos myself. No way will Cathy pose in the nude for me. What about Donna or

Trisha? My digital camera could do with some fresh air. What was that site I was looking at a few weeks ago?’ His mobile chirps into life. ‘Stewart. What’s up? Not dying yet? Same to you. Ah, just messing about on the computer. Funny you should say that. No, you don’t want to do that. You would be sure to have a heart attack by over-exerting yourself. You could drag me away. I’ll pick you up outside ‘Appledews’ in twenty minutes. Ciao.’ Stewart is drinking his second whisky and lemonade whilst Carl is half way through his pint of lager in the Westbourne. They are sitting in the main bar area but from where they have a view into the pool room where a tournament is in progress. ‘Does Caroline Q still come to you for healing?’ Enquires Carl rolling a cigarette, ‘No. She died some months ago.’ ‘Sorry to hear that. You knew her for many years did you not?’ ‘Many years. So how are you?’ ‘I have an ingrowing toenail that has been causing me gyp but apart from that everything is hunky-dory.’ ‘That’s not what I am picking up. Another pint?’ Stewart rises awkwardly from his seat. ‘And a SC.’ A loud roar from the pool room. On the blackboard another win for the home team, the Westbourne Trannies, is chalked up. ‘There we are my son. I bought you some cigarettes. I don’t like to see you smoking rollups.’ ‘Yes Pater.’ ‘How are things between you and the peachy Cath.’ ‘Unexciting is one word to describe our relationship. She doesn’t reach me where other women do. She can act lustful but she isn’t lustful if you know what I mean.’ ‘In bed you want her to be a slut.’ Stewart clarifies. ‘Succinctly put. I can get good sex elsewhere and it is fun but the hedonism begins to pale. To quote Tom Petty ‘How on earth did I ever get so jaded, life's mysteries seem so faded.’ ‘Your problem is more existential than sexual.’ ‘I feel I am stuck in a rut. Maybe I need a career change, a location change or a brain transplant. Perhaps open up a greasy spoon café for backpackers in the Himalayas or a hotel, night club or brothel. Or all four.’ ‘Quite a few options there. I often felt like jacking it in during my long and distinguished career but like me you will get over it. It is a calling you have. The ability to help people.’ ‘I am not so sure. Do I actually do any good, for anyone?’ ‘You are going through a period of self-doubt that is all. Remember ‘all things must pass.’ ‘It’s a little glib to say that it will pass. When? And when it does what will take its place, if anything.’ ‘You think too much. Stop that chattering monkey that is your mind. Meditate, go within, seek and there shall ye find.’ ‘Spoken like a true Metaphysician.’ ‘You are a free spirit with little or no responsibilities accept those you arbitrarily chose. It seems to me that you are chasing the dragon when perhaps all you really need is a puppy dog.’ Elucidates Stewart.

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‘The expression on my face is one of incomprehension.’ Carl looks at him blankly. ‘Metaphorically speaking.’ ‘Of course. I guess you are right. How much do I owe you for this consultation?’ ‘Pro bono. On the Infinite Mind.’ ‘Spoken like the father I never had.’ Another roar from the pool room as the visiting team, The Nuns of Newtown, win a frame on the black. ‘It’s Cathy’s birthday on Friday and we are meeting up with some friends of hers.’ ‘Have you brought her a present?’ ‘I have. It is a lapis lazuli and gold bead necklace in the Etruscan style I saw advertised on an American website. Altogether cost nearly six hundred dollars.’ ‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’ ‘I have more money than sense. Hehehe he.’ ‘She means much to you. You wouldn’t spend that amount of money on someone just to park your cock occasionally.’ ‘Fancy another?’ Carl responds noncommittally. ‘Open your lips Trish. Not those lips. Your wonderful elephant ear lips down below. Pull yourself open a little more.’ Trisha sits in the wicker chair in the conservatory with legs draped over the arms wearing only black stockings and suspenders. Carl kneels before her and frames her groin in the viewfinder of his Sony Cybershot. ‘Do you like my fanny?’ Asks Trisha coyly. ‘You know I do. It has character. Just like you.’ ‘Let’s go upstairs and go to bed. How many more shots do you want?’ ‘Slip a finger in your fanny. That’s it. Good. Have you got a cucumber or carrot in the fridge? ‘We might have.’ ’Don’t move.’ Instructs Carl. ‘Make sure you wash it first.’ Donna having decided to go alone up to London this morning Trisha decided to forego the pleasure of her foremost hobby, shopping, and call Carl to invite him round to get to know her better. He had been free of appointments and so had agreed to pay her a visit with several motives in mind, both of a sexual nature. Carl returns from the kitchen with half a cucumber. ‘This should fill you up.’ He comments handing the cuke to her. The sunshine briefly peeks out from behind a large prone shaggy St Bernard dog shaped Cumulus cloud to illuminate Trisha in vivid Kodak colour brilliance; her milky white breasts, her curly light brown bush, several inches of glistening green, white thighs, black stocking tops. ‘Push the cuke in with your right hand and cup your left tit in your left and lick the nipple. Hold it. Great. You are quite the bequiler Trisha. I’m sure you could turn any man from being a cock sucker to a pussy licker.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I was just thinking aloud. Let’s go upstairs.’ They are half sitting, half laying on the pillows at the top end of the bed locked in a tongue on tongue encounter whilst Carl’s left hand fondles Trisha’s tits and squeezes

her nipples. Slowly his hand moves down to her cunt and he inserts a couple of fingers. Trisha pulls her mouth away. ‘When we were doing it the other night I was upset that you spunked in me but called out Donna’s name.’ ‘Really? I didn’t know you then did I. Well I am making it up to you now. Time for some Churning of the Cream.’ With Trisha on her back Carl pushes her legs up to her head and positions himself for entry but Trisha is not comfortable. ‘You can fuck me up the arse if you want.’ . ‘Some other time. I’ll lay down and you sit on my cock.’ Carl politely declines. ‘Ahh. That is nice. That hits the spot.’ Comments Trisha as she lowers herself. Carl slides up against the headboard so her tits are easily accessible. ‘I come real easy. Sometimes two or three times in row.’ Imparts Trisha between heavy panting.’ Carl rolls her nipples between his fingers. ‘I love having my nipples squeezed.’ ‘Good.’ ‘Am I a better fuck than Donna?’ ‘You are different. She is a stiff blancmanche and you a squiggy jelly. And I like many desserts.’ Trisha slows down ‘Are you saying I am fat?’ ‘Of course not. It’s a non-sequitur. Everyone likes jelly.’ ‘Oh right. I wouldn't know a non-sequitur if it bit me on the arse.’ She continues her down thrust. ‘I do feel all quivery inside.’ She admits as she proceeds back on course. ‘Stop. Grind. Round and round.’ Instructs Carl. ‘Control. Build up the pressure. Explode.’ Trisha grinds and groans for several minutes until he pulls her towards him, grabs her buttocks hard, raises her off his shaft for four inches then thrusts hard and fast in her slick cunt and ejaculates joyfully. Trisha reacts as if she has been plugged into the light socket. Once, twice and a fizzle out. ‘Ok you can get off me now.’ ‘Ok Lover Boy.’ With a squelch she climbs off him and lays down besides. ‘Pass me my fags Trish.’ ‘It was funny Donna so insistent that she was going up town and not wanting me to go with her. As if she wanted you and me to get together. You didn’t have anything to do with that did you?’ ‘Me? Of course not. What’s the scene with you two anyway. Are you exclusively or inclusively bi? I am curious.’ ‘It’s just her and me.’ ‘Does she ever go down on you or is it one way traffic only?’ ‘She never does. She fucks me with a strap-on.’ ‘Does she make you come.’ ‘I usually have an orgasm. She makes out she’s a Little Miss Goody Whatserface but she is not. I know different. I came home from the hairdressers one afternoon to find her sprawled out on her back on my living room rug with her heels digging into my boyfriends’ shoulder blades. The little slut.’ ‘You seem to get on alright’

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‘It’s a love and hate relationship.’ ‘What do you do when you are not hiding out in Bournemouth apart from shopping?’ ‘I had a boyfriend until a few months ago when I threw him out which is why I decided to come down with Donna and keep her out of trouble. I worked in Publicity for a record company. It was mainly through my efforts that the Demonicks got so big. My boyfriend was my boss. It was like throwing the baby out with the bath water, you know.’ ‘I see. Is this the same boyfriend as you caught . ?’ ‘No, no, that was years ago.’ ‘You are of a forgiving nature.’ ‘I like to think I am a caring person. I have thought about going into childcare.’ ‘I cant understand this fad for child linked professions. Looking after your own kids is natural but wanting to make a career out of looking after others is symptomatic of a suppressed sexuality, obsession or lack of imagination.’ ‘Its healthier than being obsessed with sex.’ ‘The mothering drive versus the sexual drive. I wonder what Freud or my namesake says on the matter. I could write a thesis or maybe a magazine article on that subject and get myself invited onto chat shows.’ ‘You would be good. You could interview me.’ ‘About what?’ ‘I have lots of interesting ideas.’ ‘Be a love and pop down stairs and make us a cup of tea Trish.’ Trisha returns with a tray and places it on the bed seven minutes later. ‘What no fig biscuits?’ ‘We only have bourbons. It’s Earl Grey.’ Trisha sits on the bed. ‘I’ll have a drop of milk in mine and two sugars.’ ‘There you are.’ They sip their hot tea and Carl dunks a biscuit. ‘You might think I have an ulterior motive like what with you and I, you know, but you don’t want to get too involved with Donna. She is trouble. Women always try to wrap emotional tentacles around a man whether she really wants him or not. We are designed that way. I read it in Cosmo.’ ‘Thanks for the advice.’ ‘Donna always wants what I want. It’s always been the same.’ ‘I thought it was the other way round.’ ‘She saw you first but I wanted you first. Its not the same thing.’ ‘I guess there is a logic there somewhere. Is that your phone ringing down stairs?’ ‘It could be important. I’d better get it.’ Trisha hastily throws on a robe and hustles down stairs. Carl finishes his mug of tea.’ ‘Fucking double glazing salesman.’ Trisha announces with some venom. ‘Parasites. I don’t know about you but I’m ready for another shag.’ Carl manoeuvres Trisha around the bed trying out various positions for five minutes until they settle for she on her back with legs wrapped round his waist and he raised up on his hands giving maximum thrust and penetration as he exerts himself singlemindedly to cross the finishing line. Sweat drips from his furrowed brow as he scales the rock face to his zenith. ‘That was nice.’ Comments Carl as he releases himself.

'How about a few more photos. I saw a salami in your fridge.' Chapter 15: ‘Well it wasn’t bad. Kate Winslett looked really good in leather.’ ‘Beckinsale. Kate Beckinsale. Godber from Porridge. His daughter.’ ‘As I was saying it was pretty good. Bill Nighy was deliciously over the top. I can just visualise you in a leather trouser suit sitting on a Harley Davidson with the desert wind blowing in your hair, wearing black reflector shades and cleaning your nails with your Bowie knife.’ ‘You’re crazy or on drugs or both.’ ‘Here comes your wine.’ The Swiss Restaurant is very busy this Thursday evening with several large and noisy groups, boisterous though not too bothersome, a few couples. Carl and Cathy have a window table. Carl is drinking Warsteiner beer and smoking a Kentucky cheroot, one from a gift box of fifty presented to him by a grateful obsessivecompulsive American FlyBoy who was cured of the compulsion to pick up elastic bands off the streets and flick ladies bottoms with them. Cathy has had to wait ten minutes or more for her glass of wine as the smoke from Carl’s cheroot has formed into an effective one way screen making them nearly invisible physically and mentally, almost undetectable by normal means. It is only through the chance conjunction of a brief flare-up of the candle caused by Carl setting a napkin alight and the proximity of a waitress that once again they are in the macrosom. ‘Sorry sir. We lost you for awhile. Your entrées will be with you in a moment.’ ‘Fine. Better bring me another beer and a glass of wine for the lady at the same time.’ Three minutes later the food has arrived swiftly followed by the back-up drinks. Carl has ordered the venison with a plum sauce, rosti and fresh vegetables whilst Cathy has settled on the duck with black bean sauce and tamarind jus with same accompaniments. Outside on the pavement opposite two Kings English Language-types are having a loud finger-pointing argument in Cantonese and a police car sirens past but the two events are not connected. ‘How is the venison?’ Cathy enquires. ‘Really tasty. How’s the fuck, I mean duck?’ Carl splutters and takes a long draught of beer.' ’Crispy.’ ‘How old are you tomorrow? Twenty one?’ Carl asks innocently ‘Thank God no. That time is long behind me. You know how old I am. I’ll be twenty five.’ ‘When I was twenty five we didn’t know each other.’ ‘True. Is that statement as innocuous as you think it is?’ ‘I think so.’ Carl gives his pile of untouched green vegetables a suspicious prod. ‘Did you know that there is a name for fear of vegetables. Lachanophobia. It is all bullshit of course. Behind all these hundreds of labels there is only neurosis and beneath the neurosis is the only the Supreme Being of Anxiety aka Fear. Are you going to have a dessert Cath?’ ‘Maybe some ice cream. Vanilla, kirsch and chocolate with a drizzle of caramel.’ ‘I like a woman who knows what she likes for dessert.’

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‘Carl. We need to talk. A serious talk later.’ ‘You are fretting that I haven’t bought you a present?’ ‘No, it is not that. Have you?’ Carl runs his hands down Cathy's spine to the top of her crack as she kneels before him sucking on his cock. He is naked sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘Sit back, you’re crushing me.’ Protests Cathy. Carl thrusts a couple of times and Cathy mimics choking briefly. ‘Why don’t we lie on the bed I can do it better there.’ Suggests Cathy. Carl silently acquiesces to her wish. She kneels by his side and restarts her ministrations. ‘Get your arse round this way.’ Directs Carl hands-on. He strokes her buttocks and tentatively moves his hand round and down. Locked up and bone dry. ‘Is it me or her that has the problem. Probably both of us. Maybe it is expecting too much for her to be dripping with anticipation.’ Carl muses. With the help of his hand Cathy gets the idea and is presently straddling him, fanny in his face. After several minutes of licking she is responding a little but Carl is getting bored. ‘Lay down on your back.’ He commands. ‘Legs up. I think your fire needs a good stoking.’ Her legs rest against his shoulders as he lifts her up buttockly and pushes inwards meeting only a little resistance. ‘Ah.’ She gasps ambiguously. No matter, Carl soon gathers up speed, racing down the track and is over the finishing line whilst Cathy is still revving up. ‘Dammit. Keep it in. Let me bring my legs down.’ Carl’s prick slips out in the movement but like a gentleman he pushes it back in. Cathy starts masturbating vigorously, her whole body tenses and she grips him firmly around the neck as she squeezes out a belated orgasm. ‘Were you always picked last for the netball team?’ Asks Carl as he releases her stranglehold. ‘Ah. Get off. Get off. I have cramp in my leg.’ Screams Cathy. ‘What are you watching?’ Cathy comes into the living room where Carl is sitting on the leather settee with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him plus cigarettes and dope box. He takes a drag on the spliff, takes a mouthful of coffee and exhales the smoke through his mouth. ‘It’s called Six Feet Under. Come and sit down. I made you a coffee.’ Cathy is wearing one of Carl’s silk dressing gowns, the ones reserved for female guests. ‘We need to talk Carl.’ She sits down next to him. ‘This sounds ominous. Do you want a puff?’ ‘You know I don’t.’ ‘What’s on your mind Flower?’ Carl places his hand on her knee. ‘Don’t.’ ‘Ok Cathy. I know you have been acting weird recently. Say what you want to say. Concisely and unexpurgated.’ Carl invites. ‘Can you turn the tv down?’ ‘My friend Helen came round to see me awhile ago and she told me that she saw you and that Vanessa’s Flowers woman at a Jazz Club a few weeks ago. You were being very friendly with each other.’ ‘And?’ ‘Well. Is it true?’

‘Is it true that I go out sometimes with other people and on one occasion that other person was Vanessa. Is that the question?’ ‘Yes. No. Did you go out? No. Have you been having sex with her?’ Cathy takes a drink of her coffee. ‘I wish at times I did smoke.’ She adds, flustered. ‘So Helen told you this. Helen Baxter?’ Carl flicks his ash into the glass fruit bowl sans fruit. ‘Yes.’ A quizzical expression briefly settles on her visage. ‘A couple of years ago I went with my then girlfriend to Perranporth for a week. We stayed in a hotel. The weather was great. The two things I really remember are that we screwed on many occasions in the dunes. My cock got swollen. Too much sex. Sex and sand. Sand under the foreskin. It became quite painful. On top of that I trod on a rusty nail when exploring one day and my foot swelled up and I had to get a tetanus shot. That was painful and by the time to leave I could hardly walk. Well, this person I was with was really unsympathetic and a right bitch and when we got back to Bournemouth I dumped her. Her name was Helen. Baxter.’ ‘You must be joking.’ Cathy is visibly shocked and her coffee cup hand begins to shake. Carl takes the cup from her hand and places it on the table. He takes a long drag. ‘You are Helen’s ex-boyfriend. I knew she had a fling with someone called Karl and went to Cornwall with him but I thought he was a Karl with a K. And all the time it was Carl with a C. You. I had no idea.’ ‘I have never talked about it but I just presumed you knew. I’m just popping up stairs.’ Cathy sits in stunned silence digesting this information. She hears the toilet flush. Carl returns to the settee. ‘Why are you crying Cathy?’ ‘So you moved from Helen to me. On the rebound. Who else? Have you slept with anyone else I know?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ ‘Helen is also friends with June so she knows that you two were lovers and probably everyone else.’ ‘It was not a secret. It just never came up.’ Carl is contrite, in the circumstances. ‘The point is can Helen be trusted as a reliable witness as to what she saw or imagines she saw? I ask you?’ ‘You are not a bloody lawyer. I saw you coming out of her shop one day so there is no point in denying that you know her. Anyway Helen says she is a whore.’ ‘She would say that.’ He is getting defensive. ‘She has a conviction for running a brothel out of a guest house on St Michael’s Road.’ ‘Oh. I met her one night when I was getting myself a take-away. Went back to her place and had sex then and on several other occasions. It doesn’t or shouldn’t effect our relationship. It is nothing to do with you.’ ‘Did you love her’ She wipes away a few tears with a tissue. Carl stubs out the spliff and stands up to walk around, for dramatic effect. ‘For fucks sake Cathy. Don’t be so dense. It was just sex, mainly anyway. Her shop is closed and she has left town for all I know, or care. It will be your birthday in an hour. I’ll crack open a bottle of wine.’ End of round one.

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‘It’s beautiful. It must have cost a lot.’ Cathy’s eyes light up as she opens the box and takes out the necklace. ‘Turn your head and I’ll put in on for you.’ Carl suggests pulling the gown down over her shoulders and fastening the necklace from behind. They are sitting on the settee past the midnight hour. Carl is wearing his white underwear, Cathy the dressing gown. Apart from the sounds they make there is only silence. ‘Take this off.’ He pulls down the gown and off her. ‘Where’s the camera.’ ‘Oh no Carl. I hate having my photo taken with nothing on. My breasts are too small.’ ‘Small but not too small. I like you the way you are. You don’t hear me going on about you getting a boob job do you? Anyway you seem to have more meat on you recently.’ ‘I couldn’t anyway. I mean maybe one day I might consider it. I have put on a little weight.’ ‘No you wont. Just sit there. You look great. Like an Egyptian princess. No reason for you to be embarrassed. I have seen you naked enough times.’ Carl picks up his camera from the chrome and glass shelving unit with the built in neon lighting and flicks on a free-standing spotlight. ‘Lights, action, music. Smile.’ ‘Just my head.’ ‘Sure. Happy Birthday.’ The laidback vocals of Nora Jones complements the ambience of the bedroom. Cathy is filing her nails and Carl is feeling very mellow chugging on a big joint on the bed. ‘So was that it? You knowing about my fling with Vanessa of the Flowers.’ ‘I am really nervous about telling you.’ ‘Just jump right in.’ ‘I’m pregnant Carl.’ ‘You are pregnant? Mmm. Well, how do you feel about that?’ ‘I feel excited, thrilled and nervous. Nervous about your reaction.’ ‘I don’t wish to be pedantic but I thought that you were on the pill Cath. That is what I thought the arrangement was. Did I not get your memo?’ ‘The pill is not infallible. But I stopped taking it some months ago. I didn’t think I could become pregnant.’ ‘So it was an experiment to see if you could? And you can and now you expect what?’ ‘How do you feel about being a dad?’ ‘Cathy I don’t feel anything really. I would be pissed off if I could think clearly enough and give me time and I will.’ Cathy gives him a peck on the cheek. ‘How long have you known?’ A frown has found it’s way onto Carl’s forehead. ‘I think I knew from the moment of conception but I only tested positive a few weeks ago. I wanted to make sure.’ ‘When was this moment of conception?’ ‘Shell Bay.’ ‘When was it that you decided to make me a father without my consent or is that one more complicated?’ ‘I thought you would be pleased. I hoped you would at least.’ ‘I don’t get it Cath. When did you decide to be the Arbiter of what is best for me, like

you have a hotline to my subconscious wishes and desires.’ Carl sits up, nonplussed. ‘I love you and want to have your baby.’ ‘This is not about whether you love me or not. No, it’s a question of do I want the responsibility of your love. There are some serious issues here that you have not considered Cathy. I need a coffee but don’t go away.’ End of round two. Back in the living room Carl is working on his discourse whilst doing some serious pacing whilst Cathy sits on the brown leather settee with knees up, begowned and benecklaced and as yet unintimidated drinking red wine. ‘You cannot be pregnant without my consent. Well, you can physically, obviously, but not metaphysically. Sex for me is as far removed from reproduction as the Sun is from the Earth. This is an existential problem.’ Carl sits down next to Cathy, takes a swig of coffee, puts a hand on her knee and continues. ‘You have chosen to have a baby and you are forcing your choice onto me. Physically I am the father, and I am not going to insult you by casting aspersions, but in any other way, spiritually, metaphysically, morally it is nothing to do with me. Not now. Not yet.’ ‘What does that mean?’ ‘You think I need a child in my life to be complete and fulfilled. Maybe you are right, somewheres down the line but certainly not now. You have jumped the gun rather than waiting for the gun to be fired by me. Men are not just seed-spreaders on automatic allowing impregnation all and sundry. Correction, some men are, the Neanderthals, but I am talking about advanced spiritual beings like myself.’ ‘I just want us to be a normal couple. Why can’t you think normally like everyone else? ‘Ok. I am going to give it to you straight.’ Carl stands up and paces some more. ‘This is your decision, its happening to you not me. I am not involved. My life is about me its not about you at the moment. This may be hard for you but you will just have to let it be what it is because if you pressure me, stake some claim then you will blow it, any chance of us being together, because I will not be blackmailed by guilt or responsibility. You have to go beyond your feelings, your needs, how you think things should be and realise there is a bigger picture even if you cannot see it. You are not a victim here. If you want me then you will have to wait for me. In a couple of months you will be properly pregnant. I mean there will be more than a bunch of cells, a foetus inside you. Its too early, if any of this is true, to think about a person or the ramifications at this stage. Anyway I can’t handle this at the moment. You have to give me some time and space. I am going for a walk.’ ‘Where to?’ ‘To the take-away.’ ‘Get me a bag of fries. Oh and a couple of chicken portions. And a can of diet coke. Tomato ketchup.’ ‘I have ketchup.’ ‘Put some clothes on. And have a wash, you know.’ End of round three. ‘That’s enough for me.’ Says Cathy put down a half eaten chicken leg then licking her fingers. ‘When are you going to stop smoking that stuff? You don’t need it.’ Cathy refers to

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Carl’s rolling another joint. ‘I don’t need it I just like the mental tours it takes me on. It’s better than television.’ ‘I hope you don’t advocate it to your clients.’ ‘No I advocate a full and satisfying sex life.’ ‘I can believe that. I am going to wash my hands. Why don’t you get your kit off while I’m away.’ ‘I think you are trying to take advantage of me Cathy.’ ‘It’s a mother and foetus thing.’ Having finished the rolling he notices the camera on the table and remembers the pix of Trisha. ‘I must have a look at them sometime. Maybe Stew would like a cd.’ An image of Trisha spread-eagled on her double double bed initiates a stirring in his underpants so not being of a shy disposition undresses before proceeding to light up. Cathy returns and disrobes and sits down next to him. ‘I feel like a different person sexually the past few months.’ ‘That’s down to know me.’ ‘Or me conceiving.’ ‘You were repressed?’ States Carl. ‘Oh, thanks. But you are right.’ ‘Spending your childhood and particularly puberty riding horses and reading about them wasn’t the most direct route to being a sex siren.’ ‘I am catching up now. And you are up as well.’ ‘A wet mouth on a dry cock says more than a bus load of words.’ Cathy leans into his groin and gives a tentative lick. ‘You really should use unperfumed soap.’ ‘That will be the Roger and Gallet almond blossom.’ She straddles his cock with her hands on his shoulders, riding up and down, as he sucks and tweeks her nipples. She groans and sweats with her exertions and when the situation reaches critical Carl grabs hold of her slim-line buttocks and thrusts short and hard bringing them both to orgasm. ‘Phew. You are my expert lover.’ She says and kisses him. ‘Don’t get spunk on the settee.’ He cautions as she climbs off him. ‘Cheeky bugger.’ End of round four. ‘What do you do with yourself all the time? You never tell me. I know you are busy during the day seeing people but what do you do every evening when you are not with me? With your spare time?’ ‘This and that.’ ‘That is not very specific.’ ‘Spare time is for having nothing specific to do.’ He counters. ‘I want to be your spare time.’ ‘Then I wouldn’t have any spare time would I Cathy?' ‘There is a pursuits club in town where people get together to engage in sporting activities. The only thing you are pursuing is yourself.’ Carl shrugs his shoulders and smiles. ‘You are like the Mona Lisa picture with her enigmatic smile. I never did trust her and I don’t know if I can trust you.’

‘Of course you can. Love doesn’t have to be blind. Why don’t you go out with your second cousin if you want a male version of you?’ ‘Don’t be cruel. He can’t help it.’ Slapping his leg. ‘It is quite funny though. Anymore members of your family suffer the same affliction? The Curse of .’ ‘Don’t be horrid about my family. I . ‘ ’Go on say it. At least I have one.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘I am one of life's orphans like the man in a Stranger in a Strange Land. It’s a book.’ ‘If there wasn’t a horse in it I wouldn’t have read it.’ ‘We are so incompatible Cathy. Don’t you agree?’ ‘No. Because I haven’t read the same books as you?’ ‘You are a nice friendly, caring, practical, intelligent person who is a perfectionist. Selfsupporting, hardworking and a bit of a martyr who wants to please others. A solid individual. An extrovert.’ ‘Me an extrovert? I think not.’ ‘I don’t mean that you would go to a party and be standing on a table doing a striptease. It’s the way you outwardly relate to the world.’ ‘What about you?’ ‘I’m not and I don’t.’ ‘Aren’t you pleased you are going to be a dad?’ ‘No. It’s an infringement of my civil liberties. It’s bit chilly down here. I’ll turn the heating up.’ Carl disappears into the hall and returns within ten seconds. ‘I know you don’t really mean it.’ ‘Coffee?’ Carl vacates the room and heads for the kitchen with Cathy trailing behind. He fills the see-through kettle half way and switches it on. ‘I can see you in the process of becoming a little demon determined to make changes in my life. Prodding away with your redhot toasting fork.’ ‘What is it you are afraid you are going to lose Carl?’ ‘How about my freedom for starters.’ ‘Just half a teaspoon for me. I am not asking for you body and soul. Just the loving and caring part I know is there will do for starters. What was that noise?’ ‘The mating call of the Lesser Spotted Tabby Cat if I am not mistaken.’ Two mugs of coffee on the table later. ‘Part of the freshness of our relationship is the spaces in between seeing each other. You want to mess that up.’ ‘You have a screwed up way of looking at things.’ ‘Look Cathy. I try to be an honest person. To myself and others. I am not really the marrying, parental kind. What if I want to have sex with other woman?’ ‘You wont. I’ll do anything to please you.’ ‘But I will. I do.’ ‘I don’t know if you a complete psycho or a really together therapist.’ ‘Control over my life hasn’t been easy. Because I don’t talk about my past doesn’t mean I haven’t got one. I value where I am in space and time.’ There is a finality in his words. Cathy grips the mug tightly with both hands. ‘Thanks for ruining my birthday.’

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‘We first met when you came along to the healing group, remember. A borderline anorexic after being dumped by your boyfriend. I helped heal you Cathy.’ ‘So?’ She looks sullen and angry. ‘I think we should have a break from each other for awhile to consider our relationship. In the meantime don’t go starving yourself.’ ‘At least you recognise we have a relationship. For what it’s worth.’ She fixes him with an icy stare. ‘I must have been blind all this time. You are a bastard. Keep your coffee, you cunt.’ A wave of warm coffee washes over him as she storms out of the kitchen. Several minutes later a sodden Carl hears the front door slam. End of round five. Carl is winding down in bed; his scattered thoughts slowly coalescing and following each other like globules of syrup rivuletting down a wet windowpane, a reflection of the wet and windy night outside. ‘Perhaps I am wrong. An over-active chakra, blinded by the lack of light. I have affectionate even loving feelings towards her but I don’t want to change my life. I appreciate how Cathy feels; frustrated and thwarted, denied and angry. Should she feel that? Have I been leading her on? Have I been raising her expectations? Yes I have. You’ve been grooming her to be your live-in partner. So that’s why the man is named the groom. I will make her a better woman now and she can make me a better man later. That sounds like a good deal. But you have omitted an important factor in this simple equation. And that would be? Cathy. Trust is her problem not mine. Maybe her yoga will help her there. She could have handled things better; jumped the gun, went independent, unilateral action. And why because she loves me. Just how much of my behaviour am I responsible for if I am drawn to the objects of my desire? Perhaps I previously programmed myself through hypnosis and mind-altering drugs to, what? What do you think Cathy? Enough, enough of this Cathy business.’ It is a full mooned starry night so Carl can follow the winding path through the trees without difficulty, though why he does not know beyond a compulsion to seek he knows not what. The path cuts through a pine forest, dark and ancient, the scent of pine conjures images of clean lavatories which he finds strangely reassuring. From further up the path and deeper into the forest comes a humming sound which becomes louder with every step he takes. Sounds detach themselves from the hum, words uttered by human voices. Through the trees he can see a flickering light, a flame and then a fire. A bonfire burns brightly in a clearing which Carl steps into. Off to the left are figures dressed in dark robes though he can only see their backs as they are facing inwards. Their chanting is

loud and resonating. The words clear and chilling though he knows not their meaning. ‘A ka dua, Tuf ur biu, bi a’a chefu, Dudu nur af, an nuteru.’ He walks through the chanting robed figures unobstructed to see their purpose feeling that whatever is going on has a purpose that concerns him. ‘A ka dua, Tuf ur biu, bi a’a chefu, Dudu nur af, an nuteru.’ Bathed in a bright iridescent light he can distinquish in the centre of the circle of black robed figures a structure of twisted and intertwined, stripped and polished branches supporting a platform three feet off the ground. A large thick candle burns at each corner. As his eyes adjust to light he sees that there is a figure laying spread-eagled on this altar. He takes a few tentative steps closer and see that it is a naked Cathy laying there, on her back, eyes open and unmoving but still able to communicate her terror. ‘Why am I here?’ He asks himself, his stomach doing somersaults. A handbell rings three times and from the circle steps forward a tall figure dressed in a heavy robe of purple with a headdress on its head depicting a golden sun held between two horns. The figure extends its arms wide and in a deep baritone voice exclaims. ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will. There is no law beyond do what thou wilt.’ As if in a dream Carl finds himself standing by the side of Cathy holding an athame in his right hand poised six inches above her plump belly. He becomes aware that the chant has changed and the words are recognisable. ‘Set yourself free. Yourself free. Free. Free. Free.’ He plunges the knife down hard creating an explosion of blood, guts and gore. ‘Fuck.’ He wakes with a start, shaken out of a deep sleep as his mind locks on to the cause of his sudden arrival into normal consciousness. It sounds to him that the postman is attempting to insert a sackful of spurred and saddled rats though the letterbox.

Chapter 16: After an hour in the back garden mowing the lawn and having a tidy up Carl takes a shower, dresses, leaves the house and drives over to visit Joanna, a regular client of the past couple of months. The healing is having a beneficial effect on her condition and general well-being, though there are relapses, but he is hopeful that there will be more improvement. Traffic is heavy as usual through Charminster up to Winton and even more so along the Wallisdown Road, past the Uni where no doubt Dealing Doug is providing his civicminded services. Right at the roundabout into the Kinson Road and left at the miniroundabout and into Fernheath Road, Coleman Road and a left, no, he comes to the stop. The road is blocked by two police cars straddling the highway. He winds down the window. ‘Morning sir.’ A uniformed officer in short sleeved shirt and flak jacket cradling a Russian made Bizon 2 machine pistol lovingly against his chest approaches. ‘Morning Officer. What’s going on?’ ‘Gas leak. The road is closed for the foreseeable future. Are you a resident or visitor?’ ‘A visitor.‘ ‘You will have to postpone your visit for today. Will you move on now sir.’ The radio on his shoulder, the modern parrot, starts chattering. Carl slowly moves off, as the officer

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waves him on, down the Moore Avenue for a hundred yards and pulls into the kerb outside one of the block of flats. Joanna lives on the other side of this building. ‘Well. I’ll just pop in through the back way.’ Carl affirms getting out of the car and locking it. He walks up to the entrance of the two story building and using the tradesmen button buzzes himself in, walks to the back and exits into the communal garden area, where he steps over a low white picket fence, crosses the bridge over the Koi Carp pond enclosed by Weeping Willows, opens a heavy rusty metal iron gate that gives him access to an overgrown and neglected graveyard which he gingerly walks through but not without stopping to examine a gravestone chisel-graffitied with the barely legible slogan ‘Simon de Monfort est un licker de cul.’ At last he steps over a low wall into the well-ordered, pristine garden with three apple trees of Joanna’s abode. Carl breathes a sigh of relief and checks his gold plated Sekonda watch. ‘I’ve lost twenty minutes.’ He registers with surprise. He catches movement in the kitchen window and sees Joanna standing there. She smiles and gives a little wave. ‘Hello Carl. I didn’t expect to see you today.’ Greets Joanna with soap bubbles on her hands as she lets him into the kitchen. ‘What’s going on with the armed Bill?’ ‘Siege. Hostage situation. Marjorie’s old man got wind that she is having it off with the postman and Steve did a runner from Ford Open Prison and they have been holed up in the house for two days. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Cup of tea? The kettle has just boiled.’ ‘Sure. I don’t follow the news or read the papers much, they are a constant litany of murder. I didn’t expect to see you up and about. You are looking very well and getting about with just a stick it seems.’ ‘Since the healing you gave me on your last visit I have felt so much better. A period of remission. Sugar?’ ‘Two. It’s an accumulative effect, a slow recharging of the batteries and targeted rewiring. I’ll take that. You haven’t got any jaffa cakes have you? No? A chocolate miniroll will be fine.’ Carl carries the tray of tea things through the hall, a photographic shrine to Diana and kin, into the living room. ‘You certainly look different. Have you done something with your hair?’ Joanna sits on the sofa whilst Carl clears away a pile of AutoMechanic magazines off an armchair. ‘I went to see a hair stylist on Tuesday. The first time in months.’ ‘Brilliant.’ ‘I’ve booked to go to Jubilee Lodge run by the Winged Fellowship next weekend for a week. They had a cancellation.’ ‘I believe you mentioned it sometime ago. Holidays for the disabled right. I bet they will have their work cut out keeping you under control.’ ‘I’ll give you a ball reading today if you want.’ ‘I beg your pardon. I am not having you playing with my balls.’ ‘You are ‘aving me on. My crystal ball could do with some attention and I am curious to know more about you and your psyche.’ ‘You leave my psyche alone or I’ll report you.’ Jokes Carl. ‘Where is your ball? I’ve not seen yours.’ ‘Let’s finish our tea first then I’ll get myself tuned in. The boys scored some Columbian Gold yesterday. Such good kids.’

‘Every mother should have one or two.’ Joanna and Carl sit on opposite sides of a small card table positioned by the window with the drapes closed. It is covered by a black cloth on which sits, mid--point, a clear quartz crystalline ball on a black stand decorated in gold with sun sign symbols. ‘Put your hands flat on the table before you, close your eyes and just let your mind freeassociate as it will.’ Directs Joanna. For this special occasion she has wrapped a purple scarf around her head similarly decorated as the ball stand. Carl is pure scepticism. ‘Just breath normally Carl, and chill out.’ She places her hands either side of the ball. All is quiet apart from the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It is all misty, swirling mist. But no, it is clearing and images are starting to form.’ Joanna’s voice has deepened a few notes. ‘I see a tree standing on a hill, there is snow all around. A stark black tree silhouetted against the snow and black sky. There is lightning, a thunderbolt that hits the tree and splits it asunder, yes asunder. Torn in two. Just like you. I see a woman, slim, young and she is with a man. Katy. Yes. No. Kathleen. Kathy. The man is you Carl. It is becoming hazy. Now I see her again. This woman is crying. Now there is a man. A man comes into the room and is comforting her. She is distressed. She is pleased to see him. He is a friend, someone she has known awhile. A secret friend. She turns to him for comfort and. Sorry it’s fading now.’ ‘That was interesting but I don’t know what to make of it.’ Responds Carl as she returns to normal consciousness. ‘It’s quite simple Carl. She is two-timing you.’ Joanna gets up from the table. ‘Never. I don’t believe it.’ He is totally dismissive. ‘That is up to you. More tea?’ The sound of a public address system is heard loud but distorted. ‘So this Steve is holding his wife hostage in the house is he?’ ‘Nah. Marjorie is keeping the postman prisoner and wont let him out, poor blighter. She is a right maneater.’ Carl looks at his watch and is alarmed at how quickly the time is racing by. ‘We will do the healing first if it is not too noisy and have a cup of tea after.’ Carl slips on his therapist aura. ‘Do I get a discount for my psychic reading?’ ‘No. You get charged double.’ ‘Hello Shinona. It’s Carl. From the healing group.’ ‘Hiya. Is there anything wrong?’ ‘No, no. I just phoned to proposition you.’ ‘Oh really. I didn’t know you cared.’ ‘Are you going to the group after work this evening?’ ‘I was considering it. Take my mind away from lentils and brown rice. Why?’ ‘Do you work in a restaurant?’ ‘Health food store.’ ‘I would like you to take over the running of the group for today as I will be absent. Lead the meditation, affirmations etc. I know you haven’t done it before, not with us

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anyway but it is a chance to get involved, take a position.’ ‘I would love to. But what about the others. Wont they resent me taking over?’ ‘A few might but that will be their problem. I’ll phone ah, Brigitte and get her on side. Ok? ‘Sure. If you say so. And thanks.’ ‘No problem’ ‘If you say so.’ ‘I do Brigitte. I would appreciate your support. We need to get new blood in.’ ‘I’m concerned she will have us all wearing kaftans, reeking of patchouli oil and Omming in a group hug.’ ‘You don’t want those bad old days resurrected I guess. Bad memories?’ ‘Far from it. But I have never liked patchouli.’ ‘So that’s sorted then. Speak to you soon. Ciao.' ‘What do you want to drink Donna?’ ‘An Archers please and a packet of crisps. Salt and vinegar or smokey bacon.’ The Red Cock Inn at the Triangle is just getting busy but they have been lucky to grab a table well away from the door of ingress for punters and a chill night wind. Carl returns with her drink and crisps and a large SC for himself. Down the room to the right of the bar the karaoke equipment is being set up. Donna is wearing a lilac lambswool turtleneck sweater and jeans with a heavy studded belt, black knee high boots and a black beret perched on top of her now hennaed hair. She has a new black handbag accompanying her, a Gucci she informs Carl. He is wearing a brown leather jacket over a green sweatshirt, jeans and black trainers. ‘We look pretty good together.’ He admits. ‘Even with our clothes on.’ ‘Are you planning to get up and sing?’ Enquires Donna, helping herself to a cigarette. ‘I forgot to bring my party dress so I think I’ll pass.’ ‘You can borrow my makeup.’ ‘Thanks. So, did you have negotiations with um, to arrange a reconciliation?’ ’We talked on the phone. I wouldn’t tell him where I am living and told him not to come looking for me. He said he would kill anyone if he found out they had been, you know, messing about with me. He doesn’t know about you though. ‘Why should he?’ ‘He is a jealous guy. I think he might have had me followed.’ ‘You think so?’ ‘He doesn’t know where I am.’ Further talking is aborted by electronic crackling, feedback and one-twoing. The proceedings start off with a burly middle-aged man wearing an electric blue satin sheen figure-hugging dress, white high-heeled shoes and blonde wig, a local member, affiliated, of the Great Wall of China Bricklayers and Plasterers Union International, giving a passable baritone rendition of ‘My heart will go on.’ The pub is filling rapidly on one of the venues busiest nights after the weekly Vampires and Ghouls Quiz and Bingo Evening. ‘I think we had better stock up with drinks or it will be murder getting to the bar later.’ Announces Carl. He returns with four glasses and sets them on the table then about

turns to the bar. The audience get drunker, the applause louder as several acts later a local councillor feels compelled to pull up his red frilly blouse to reveal his pierced nipples and simultaneously whip off his black skirt to show off his diamante thong whilst singing ‘Like a bat out of hell.’ A good night of merriment is being had by all, until the fight outside the gents toilet breaks out, spreads to the peanut vending machine, spills into the video games nook and soon engulfs half the pub. ‘Time to wend our way.’ Proclaims Carl taking one last look at the melee of teeth, fists and shoes. ‘Why is it that Drag and Trouble always seem to go together.’ Ponders Carl as he hustles Donna out of the door. ‘It is gay bitchiness.’ ‘Rubbish. Most of the singers are straight. Taxi.’ He hails a passing fire truck. Standing ten minutes later in the same take-away where he encountered Vanessa, waiting for their order to be prepared they are both safely pissed. Carl is touchy-feely amorous towards Donna but there are no other customers to be jealous or complain. Angled towards the windows and the street beyond Carl attention is vaguely drawn to a car that pulls up on the otherside of the road underneath the streetlamp. Donna is complaining that she needs to pee. His attention becomes specific when he identifies the vehicle as a dark coloured Lexus SC430 with the top down. He squints into the pool of light cast down. ‘Montrose blue I reckon.’ ‘What?’ Enquires Donna slurringly turning her head to look at him then towards the object of his attention. ‘I should buy one of those.’ His tone is one of admiration. A large, overweight bald gentleman appears to be staring intently in their direction and struggling with the seatbelt. She casually looks, then focuses on movement within the car. ‘Fuck.' Alarm animates her plastic features. ‘Uhuhuhuh. Quick run. I know that geezer.’ She grabs Carl’s arm and pulls him out of the door. ‘Which way to run, towards the precinct or towards the public gardens? This way.’ Carl sets off down the pavement with Donna in tow. The Big Guy is out of the car and shouting, intent on crossing the road but quickly steps back as a taxi sweeps by. ‘Donna wait.’ He calls out. After thirty yards of a mad dash Carl slows down and comes to a halt. ‘Why are we running?’ He is breathing lightly but Donna is gasping for oxygen like a fish suddenly teleported to a picnic table in the Sahara. Carl can make no sense of her garble. He sees the Big Guy has returned to his vehicle no doubt further to pursuance. ‘A nutty stalker. If he catches us he will probably want to hurt you.’ ‘Let’s run then.’ Carl knows that this is all rather silly but he has had just enough alcohol to go along with it anyway. Suspension of disbelief coupled with withdrawal of rationality. The Lexus reverses and turns into a side street ready to give chase. ‘Quick down here.’ They run into a passageway next to Richer Sounds. The night is filled with the sound of the 4.3-litre V8 engine on this otherwise quiet night in Boscombe. ‘I can’t run anymore. I need a pee or I’ll wet myself.’ Donna in distress. ‘

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’Down this alley.’ He pulls her out of sight behind a wheelybin a second before the Lexus enters the passageway, accelerates and comes to a stop in Roumelia Lane. It turns right. ‘Move down here.’ The alleyway runs behind a row of shops. The detritus of a retail area, parked vehicles, loading bays and metal staircases leading up to first floor flats. Halfway down the alley they feel safe. In a corner formed by two walls and a wheely Donna undoes her jeans and squats awkwardly. ‘Taking your jeans off will be more expeditious and dry.’ Advises Carl. ‘I’m bustin.’ Comments Donna as she quickly removes her boots and jeans which she hands to Carl. ‘It must be a pain needing a slash when you are a girl and get caught short.’ He observes. ‘Girls don’t slash they pee.’ She ripostes, a pleasurable expression on her face as a pool expands out from between her legs. Carl stands to the side of the stream listening for sounds of pursuit but hears, a radio tuned into an Arabic music channel, nothing to concern him. ‘We had better lie low for a few minutes just in case.’ She wipes herself and stands up. ‘Well. Pass me my jeans. My crotch is cold.’ ‘I’ll warm you up.’ He promises as he dumps her stuff on a cardboard box and pushes her gently up against the wall, under the metal staircase. His hand goes straight up her jumper and pops her left tit out of its holder and fondles it as his mouth seeks out hers. She rubs his cock with her right hand briefly before unzipping his jeans and fumbling open the buttons on his boxers allowing it to spring out. ‘Stick it in me.’ She urges bringing up her right leg to rest on his hip. As his cock slides in she wraps her arms around his neck and brings up her other leg to hold him tight in a scissor grip as gripping her buttocks he thrusts short and hard. Overly stimulated he manages to pound away for three minutes before his legs start to ache and his cock is triggered to explode. He lets out a stifled groan as he climaxes and thirty seconds later she lets out a strangulated cry as she too orgasms. Heard but unseen someone opens a window noisily. ‘Fock off you shitting cats.’ Shouts a female voice. ‘I do like a shag al fresco.’ Remarks Carl as he tidies himself up. ‘I expect your stalker has gone by now.’ He adds conversationally as Donna pulls up her jeans and boots up. ‘I’ll call a taxi to pick us up out on the main road in five minutes.’ Taking out his mobile and phoning. Trisha is sitting with her legs up on the settee adjacent to the gas fire reading a magazine, a local radio station on in the background, wearing a loose fitting white tshirt with a picture of a fluffy kitten on the front, her black leggings a tight-fitting second skin. On coffee table a pack of playing cards is disarrayed and half a glass of apple juice. ‘Been playing with yourself Trisha?’ Enquires Carl with a grin. ‘Yeah. I lost. What have you two been up to?’ ‘I’m going to get changed.’ Announces Donna heading for the stairs. ‘Karaoke in Drag was the theme for the night. It was fun until the fight broke out.’ ‘You should have invited me.’ She is tetchily accusative.

‘We had to run away from some guy who Donna says has been stalking her.’ ‘What! A stalker? First I’ve heard about it. It must be Laurie or one of his goons. I told you she was dangerous.’ ‘I think the word you used was trouble.' Corrects Carl. ‘You look tired.’ He says going over to sit next to her. ‘You smell nice, like you have just stepped out of the bath.’ ‘I had a soak. Are you going now?’ ‘I thought I’d stick around for awhile. Give me a kiss.’ She sits up straight so he can get close but responds cautiously. ‘What are you up to?’ She pulls away slightly. ‘How about you and Donna putting on some entertainment for me, seeing as I am such a nice guy.’ ‘Phuh. Too tired to perform for you or anyone. But you can fuck me if you want.’ ‘Let Donna do that.’ ‘That will be the day.’ ‘Or night.’ ‘When do I get to see the photos you took of me?’ ‘When you come round to my place.’ He kisses her again. ‘Wait for me you two.’ Calls Donna coming down the pinewood stairs dressed in a pair of light green pajamas. ‘I thought you had gone to bed.’ Remarks Carl untruthfully. ‘I’m hungry. Cheese on toast anyone?’ Carl and Trisha pass. ‘Let’s play cards.’ Suggests Carl. ‘Poker. Strip poker to be exact.’ He embellishes. ‘That wont take long. We hardly have any clothes on anyway.’ Chirps Trisha. ‘All the better for me. Me against you two. There are also forfeits. Sit over there next to Trish. Do people call you Dee for Donna sometimes Donna?’ ‘All the time Carl.’ ‘Dee and Tee. The perfect combination. Ok, I’ll deal. You know how to play don’t you?’ ‘Of course we know how to play, just don’t know how to win.’ Informs Donna. ‘Lucky for you.’ Trisha chips in. ‘Right five cards each.’ Card shuffles the cards and deals from his position on one settee to the girls sitting on the one opposite. ‘How long you girls planning to remain on your extended holiday?’ Trisha looks at Donna and she in turn looks at her. ‘We don’t know yet.’ ‘Ok. Let’s simplify the rules. The player with the worst hand has to do a forfeit given by the person with the best hand. This should be fun.’ ‘Have you got any of your wacky backy? I’ll see if we have anything left of that crate of alcopops we bought the other day.’ Trisha gets up and wanders off to the kitchen. Carl digs into his jacket pocket and produces a silver cigarette case from which he extricates three ready-rolleds. ‘I was trying to give it up.’ He admits lazily. Trisha returns with three Bacardi breezers. ‘I’ve got a pair of tens. You haven’t got anything Trish. Nor have you Dee. We can call that a trial run.’ ‘A good idea. You ought to take your jacket and trousers off to make us more equal.’

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Opines Donna. Carl slips off his jacket, sweatshirt, shoes and socks to conform but mainly to be more comfortable and show off his Pollock print boxers. He deals several more hands whilst they drink and smoke. ‘Are you still taking the Prozac Donna?’ He enquires. ‘No, I’ve run out and I am not registered with a doctor down here.’ ‘This time.’ Says Trisha. Carl deals. ‘Ok. What have we?’ ‘I have three queens.’ Declares Trisha. ‘Two nines.’ From Donna. ‘A pair of jacks for me. You lose Donna. What is it to be Trish?’ ‘Donna’s forfeit is to take off her top.’ ‘I don’t want to play.’ She responds defensively. ‘Come on Donna. Play the game.’ He cajoles, clicks his fingers four times. ‘Oh alright.’ She unlaces her pajama top and removes it shyly. She folds her arms across her breasts. Carl collects the cards together, shuffles and deals. ‘None of us have got anything. My highest is a nine, you have a jack and Donna has an ace. You win. What’s my forfeit?’ ‘Come over here and fondle my tits.’ Carl gets up rearranging his genitals and plonks himself next to Donna. He fondles first her left then her right tit, rubbing the nipples between thumb and forefinger with dedication then takes each nipple in his mouth alternatively sucking and biting. Donna sighs with pleasure. ‘Hey. That’s enough of a forfeit.’ Trisha complains. The next hand is dealt and Carl wins and Trisha loses and removes her t-shirt. ‘A right double pair of knockers we have here.’ Carl loses and removes his t-shirt. Donna removes her pajama trousers. Donna fondles Trisha. Carl loses his shorts. Trisha her leggings. ‘You lose Donna. For your forfeit I want you to lick Trish out until she climaxes. Come on Donna get your sweet mouth down there between her thighs.’ With legs spread Trisha lies back as Donna kneels on the floor before her and commences pleasuring her. Carl extracts a ready-rolled from his cigarette case, lights up and inhales deeply and appreciatively as he gazes at Trisha squeezing her tits and licking her lips obviously enjoying Donna’s ministrations but also putting on a show for his benefit. ‘Is she a good licker?’ He asks. ‘Fantastic.’ ‘Perhaps you can pop upstairs and get the dildo.’ Asks Donna between slurps. ‘Sure. In the bedroom?’ He puts his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘In my knicker drawer.’ She comes up for air. In less than two minutes he is back down stairs. The girls are drinking and smoking, though Trisha does not smoke straights. ‘Come on Donna, Trish, entertain me.’ Passing the dildo to Donna who wastes no time before inserting it into Trisha’s cunt. He sits down next to Trisha putting her hand on his stiff cock as he kisses and fondles her. She groans with pleasure as Donna’s tongue flicks her clit and the dildo slides in and out. His tongue fills her mouth as Donna’s tongue licks and sucks. Trisha gasps for breath as he squeezes her tits though she retains a firm grip on his cock. ‘Oh Donna, Donna baby.’ Croons Trisha. Carl gets himself into a kneeling position, thrusts his cock forward and Trisha takes him eagerly in her mouth.

With her own orgasm imminent Trisha sucks wildly on his cock and within several minutes he is spurting into her mouth and she is succumbing to her own climax. Chapter 17: He parks in the Dalkeith Centre on the third floor cruising the levels for five minutes before a vacant space presents itself on this Saturday morning then makes his way down to the ground floor and out into the busy shopping precinct. Dressed casually in worn denim jacket, jeans, striped Ben Sherman shirt and trainers, despite the pleasures of the previous night and his indulgences of the past few months he feels an emptiness within that gnaws at his entrails, a cancerous growth of dissatisfaction and disconnectedness from himself and his surroundings that causes him to bump into and knock over a small child he was unaware of. ‘Look where you’re going you plonker.’ Rails an irate parent of the motherly persuassion. ‘Sorry.’ He proceeds on his way to the Barclays ATM drawing out one hundred pounds then crosses the road to enter the Beales department store founded in 1881, the same year as the infamous Gunfight at the OK Corral took place. He wends his way across the cosmetics and perfumeries sales floor to the lifts and after a minutes wait with two elderly ladies and a Kim Wilde look-alike takes the lift up to the third floor where is housed the Men’s Clothing Department. Being a male he knows what he has come to purchase and heads straight for the underwear section where he chooses two pair of Jeff Banks white boxers, goes to the till and is out of the shop again, mission accomplished, within seven minutes. He turns left and enters the arcade, pops into Waterstones where he purchases ‘Gurdjieff-the anatomy of a myth’ by James Moore in hardback, exits and enters MacDonald’s where he queues briefly to collect a burger and large coffee and sits at a table by the window. He sips his hot coffee whilst reading the introduction to his new purchase. A gaggle of teenage girls prattle and preen before several youths at an adjacent table. Two groups of Italian students shout and gesticulate at each other from opposite sides of the restaurant. A dishevelled drunk wanders in in search of the next bottle of sherry, gets his bearings and wanders out again. Outside on a bench a homeless young man complete with camouflage clothes, a scrawny mongrel dog and a pale faced anorexic girlfriend plugs his metallic grey Parker P42 into the amplifier and launches into a brisk version of ‘Wonderwall’ despite being tonally challenged. Having finished the intro he deposits his debris into the appropriate receptacle and leaves the establishment a bag in each hand. Travelling along the Holdenhurst Road some ten minutes later his thoughts are freefalling and somersaulting in the biosphere that is his mind. ‘Perhaps I should give Cathy a ring. Do do dodo do dodo. See if she is alright. If she sees things the way I see them. Endorses me and my lifestyle and love me with a totally uncritical eternal love.’ He passes Lowther Road on the left and fails to notice or anticipate the lights of the pedestrian crossing changing from green to red. He has time for an, ‘Oh shit.’ He crunches into the back of the car ahead, a red Polo and shunts it along a

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couple of feet. ‘Bollocks have I been drinking?’ Is Carl’s first coherent thought. ‘Well, I’m alright. Better see how the other driver is.’ A male passer-by is helping a fiftyish woman out of her car who though shaken seems to have her limbs intact and no new orifices. ‘I saw it. I saw it all. It was all his fault.’ The Passerby who has upgraded himself now to Witness points an accusatory finger at Carl who responds by quietly chuckling which builds rapidly manifests into bellyaching laughter. ‘It is not funny young man. I could have been seriously hurt.’ The stocky woman, a school kitchen supervisor, approaches him belligerently. ‘Of course not. This is how I cope with shock. I’ll give you my details. No problem.’ ‘ . . so the police kicked down the door after the long stand-off to find the birds had flown. A week later Joanna received an anonymous postcard with a picture of a beach and palm trees on the front of it with the words ’Tahiti-Paradise on Earth.’ She doesn’t know the woman very well so why it was sent to her she doesn’t know. Or even if it was her. So I was stuck there for over two hours this afternoon whilst Kevin and Gavin got pissed out of their heads and intermittently tinkered with the car. Joanna was sociable, having one of her good days. A good month in fact. Anyway they got it sorted and didn’t charge me anything so.’ Carl and Ann are slouching on a worn but cosy sofa against the back wall of the JazzClub on this Saturday evening. She is dressed in a red blouse and short lilac skirt, showing him too much thigh in a public place. ‘With her hair braided she looks like a black Shinona. Maybe they are twins who were seperated at birth. Their mother an African American from southern Alabama who meets and falls in love with an Alaskan lumberjack. What?’ ‘Who is this record by do you think? It sounds very old. Reedy.’ ‘My starter for ten is it? I think, no I know, it is Billie Holiday.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Is that ‘who’ in the sense of who is she or ‘who’ in the sense that you didn’t hear me clearly?’ ‘Have you ever had an emergency appendectomy performed without an anaesthetic in a bar before?’ ‘Ok. She is a black jazz singer who died in 1959 who has a very distinctive voice. Looks like the band are coming back on for their second turn. I’ll get the drinks in.’ The band with the unlikely name of Litmus Paper are a blues band in the vein of early Manfred Mann and are being well-received. Pleasantly inebriated they leave soon after midnight and catch a cab to Carl’s house. ‘Mmm. I like the lambent blue light. The furnishings are nice. Reminds me of those old black and white movies my Grandad used to watch when I was a kid set in places like Macao or Shanghai. But of course the light wasn’t blue. It was but . Am I rambling? I do that when I’m nervous.’ ‘Relax. Slip into something more comfortable. Like your birthday suit. Just joshing. Lets sit on the sofa. The bed is there if we need it.’ ‘Thanks. I’ll have a glass of wine. Can you put some music on?’ Carl goes over to the midi-stereo and slips the Norah Jones disc in the player then sits

down and pours two large glasses of Wolf Blass white wine. They sip. ‘This is a fruity little number just like you.’ Carl swallows a mouthful. ‘Sorry. I’m feeling a bit corny today. All shook up. Don’t take any notice. I’m not try to get you into bed. Well of course I want us to end up in bed together but. ‘Whose rambling now!’ ‘Touché. As they say.’ They drink and think within the bubbles of their own silences. Beyond the curtain of the music a car door slams. ‘Have you any condoms Carl?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Get them and lets go to bed.’ He straddles her thighs leaning over to lick the sweat trickling down between her breasts whilst she breaths heavily through her mouth. ‘Put a condom on.’ She tells him. ‘Ok.’ He says. ‘This is very untogether, disjointed. I don’t know if I can be bothered. What the hell. I have a hard on, not a raging one admittedly, but a stiffy is a stiffy and not to be wasted. I do like her and wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maybe she is a virgin though that is hard to believe. She has told me she has had boyfriends.’ He chats away to himself slipping on the rubber and rolling off her to lie next to her side. She sidles down and swiftly has his union-jack coated cock in her mouth and he responds despite the imposition. ‘Luckily I have a sensitive cock. The product of thousands of years of evolutionary design, research and development. The seismograph of penises if that makes any sense. Her mouth warm and wet. A juicy fruit. What of her other fruit. Do I want to taste it. Explore the subtle flavours.’ Her bobbing head slows and she looks up to him with her big brown eyes. ‘I want to be inside you.’ He declares softly though earnestly. She smiles and lies down on her back with her legs apart. ‘Be gentle with me.’ She whispers, bringing her legs up to rest on his hips as he enters her. Seven minutes and forty three seconds later Carl feels they have shared enough pleasure and intimacy holistically and increases the tempo of his thrusting. ‘Careful.’ She cautions as his control becomes ever more erratic. He groans as he jerks his load and she wraps her arms around him and holds him tight murmuring sweet murmurings. He lies on her relaxed and content. ‘Carl don’t go to sleep. Take it out now.’ ‘Mm. Ok. I’ve got it.’ He remarks extracting his wilting penis and soiled condom getting off the bed and going to the bathroom. On his return he plonks himself down on the sofa, drinks half a glass of wine and lights up a cigarette. ‘You ok.’ Ann returns from the bathroom and slips on her underwear then sits down next to him. ‘Lovely. That was really nice.’ ‘You didn’t orgasm though did you? Is it just me or a problem you have?’ ‘You are very direct.’ She empties the bottle of wine into her glass and takes several sips. ‘I don’t really have a problem with having an orgasm. To put it in your terms, it is a symptom rather than the cause.’

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‘I see.’ ‘I don’t think so. Unless you are psychic or a mindreader.’ ‘I defer. Continue.’ ‘I don’t know why I should tell you. Despite hardly knowing you I feel I can trust you.’ ‘Think of me as your Therapist/Confessor.’ ‘I have an allergy. A semen allergy.’ ‘Shit. That is a new one on me. That must cause a whole lot of problems.’ ‘It does.’ ‘So what happens?’ ‘I get a reaction. An unbearable burning sensation and swelling down there. It is not pleasant and can last for days.’ ‘You poor thing. That must be difficult with relationships. No wonder you were tense.’ ‘Considerate lovers are not easy to find. Not the ones I come across.’ She leans over and kisses him briefly. ‘To put it delicately. Is that er, every orifice?’ ‘It doesn’t cause a reaction if I swallow. I’m not into the other.’ ‘It’s not all bad then. Are you staying or do I phone for a taxi?’ ‘I’ll stay for breakfast.’ After Ann’s departure Carl spends twenty minutes zazen meditating before setting off for a jog in the nearby Kings Park with Peter, a neighbour, who runs a small electrical contractor company in Wimborne. Taller and bulkier than Carl he is in his mid-thirties, married with two small children and balding. An avid squash player and golf fanatic he occasionally invites Carl to jog with him. Today is such. Half past ten on this bright Sunday morning they pound down the Christchurch Road through Pokesdown past the shuttered antique shops till they turn into the park. ‘How was your holiday?’ Carl enquires. ‘Fabulous. Disneyland is something else. The kids loved it. Have you been there? It is not just for kids though. People of all ages.’ ‘No I haven’t. I hear its become a modern day Lourdes.’ ‘I don’t think cricket has caught on there.’ ‘A place of healing. With all that concentrated energy there must be many a miracle taking place on all levels.’ ‘Florida is a great place for food. Steak, ribs and donuts. That’s why I am jogging today.’ Two young women coming from the opposite direction smile as they pass. Off the road now and running on the grass across the field several people can be seen walking their dogs, jogging or practicing Taichi. ‘Who was that I saw leaving your place this morning when I was cleaning the car? A new girlfriend?’ ‘Just a friend. She’s a nurse. Mind the dogshit.’ ‘On night duty was she?’ ‘You could say that. ‘I’ve always fancied a bit of black pussy. You jammy bugger.’ ‘Let’s step it out I have to be somewhere soon.’ From out of the cemetery on their left emerges a scruffy girl and boy aged six or seven years old each holding a blueish grey Pitbull on a leash. Peter comes to an abrupt halt.

‘Shit I hate those things?’ ‘He wont hurt you mister.’ Promises the little boy. Carl keeps his several yards distance. The dogs stand solidly in place. ‘I hope they are taking their medication.’ Thinks Carl ‘What’s their names?’ He asks with more bravado than he feels. ‘This is Shag. And hers is Dag. That’s their nicknames. Their proper names are Shagger and Dagger.’ ‘Cute. Nice to meet them. And you. Must dash.’ He runs off to join Peter who has been waiting some fifty yards away. ‘Jesus Fucking Christ. There ought to be a law against allowing small kids out in public with killer dogs. Those dogs would only have to give a little tug to pull the kids over. What kind of control is that. Makes me bloody mad.’ Rants Peter. Pass the athletics sports club, the football stadium part of the vista on the right, the bowls club on the left they jog. Pass the café and the swing park. ‘I want to ask your advice on a personal matter.’ States Peter as they follow the road back up to the High Street. ‘In your own time.’ Panting a little now. ‘As you know Rosie is a few years younger than me. Ten in fact. Lauren, her mother, was only sixteen when she had Rosie and now Rosie is twenty five and of course her mum is only in her early forties.’ ‘I can see where you are going with this Peter.’ ‘I thought you would which is why I am telling you. In strictest confidence.’ ‘Of course. Dib dib whatever. So tell me what dastardly deed you have committed.’ He smirks. ‘It is alright for you and your nubile Nubian.’ ‘Of course. I don’t go screwing my mother-in-law, even if I had one. You want to know if you should tell Rosie?’ ‘Stop a moment.’ Requests Peter, outside a newsagents. ‘Sunday papers.’ Ninety seconds later he emerges with a wedge of papers under his right arm and they set off on the penultimate leg of the course. ‘It started a couple of months ago when Lauren asked me to put two new sockets in the living room.’ ‘One socket led to another.’ ‘Haha. Right. And the rest. She is great but it can’t go on and we both know it.’ They turn down the home road. ‘My advice is you knock it on the head now. Don’t see her on your own anymore. But there is no need to tell Rosie if you want to keep your marriage. If she finds out she will leave you.’ ‘I think you are right.’ Concedes Peter coming to a stop outside of Carl’s house. ‘See you around.’ As he walks up the drive. Whilst Carl is slipping into his underpants after a quick shower he gives Cathy a ring at her home gets no reply but is not surprised. ‘I can hardly be expecting her to be waiting by the phone for me to ring.’ He lies. He presses the keys again. ‘Hello.’ ‘Brigitte. It’s Carl. How did the meeting go?’

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‘I’m just on my out of the door Carl. But briefly it went fine though Shinona did bring her little boy along as she couldn’t get a baby sitter. I didn’t know she had a child. I haven’t spoken to her much.’ ‘Nor I.’ Admits Carl. ‘Ok. Catch you soon. Ciao.’ Carl disconnects. In the bathroom he slaps on the Jovan Musk aftershave and returning to the bedroom hears someone interfering with the letterbox so trots down stairs in a confrontational mood expecting it to be kids messing about or a new age cult looking for recruits and throws open the front door. ‘Hey man. I was in the neighbourhood doing some business that has made me five hundred quid richer, so here I am.’ ‘Come on in Doug.’ Carl opens the door wide in time for a woman walking the dog to catch a view of a near naked male framed in the doorway as Doug enters within. ‘Gracias. Did you see the comets last night? Comets over Christchurch? Amazing.’ ‘No. I missed it. What time was this?’ He leads into the living room. ‘After the pubs closed. What a night. The band went down a storm. Brilliant. Then afterwards there was this celestial display. It went on for about five minutes. You’re looking at your watch. Have you got to be somewhere?’ ‘Not really. I could do with some light relief.’ ‘I’m your man. Have you got any coffee going? I’ll roll one up.’ He sits down in an armchair and delves into his waistcoat. ‘Sure.’ ‘Bollocks!’ Exclaims Doug as the cue ball leaps into the green’s pocket after he has pocketed the yellow. ‘Four points to me.’ Carl announces determinedly adding his points to the scoreboard. A noisy crowd of lunchtime revellers throw open the door creating numerous dervishes of turbulent air that ruffle the almost cathedral-like stillness of the snooker hall. Dust motes fall like dandruff of the dead. The scoring presently stands at Carl 37, Doug on 43. Some to-ing and fro-ing ensues until Carl pots the green ball and subsequently clips the brown. Doug valiantly goes for the double but only succeeds in leaving it over the middle right pocket for Carl. ‘It looks like that fiver has got my name on it.’ Grins Carl. Doug flukes the blue. ‘Yes!’ He exclaims raising his cue above his head. ‘Jammy bugger.’ Acknowledges his opponent. More toing and froing before Carl pots the pink leaving the cue ball to come to rest six inches in from the left hand middle pocket. He steadies himself, holds his breath to pot the black which is three inches left of its own spot. He strikes the white ball which appears to Carl to travel in slow motion as it hits the black on the right side from where he is standing sending it gracefully and purposefully towards the right hand pocket where it hovers and stops on the lip. Carl’s breath explodes as does his expletive. ‘Shit.’ Doug whoops. The cue ball having impacted with the black with inadvertently applied side now merrily goes on its way hitting two cushions before coming to rest three feet away but directly in front on the black.’

Fuck it. I’ll get the pints in.’ Carl concedes. Shall I rack ‘em up?’ Calls Doug as Carl makes his way to the bar. ‘I think seventy five minutes on a frame is enough for me.’ responds Carl. Sitting at a table near the food bar Carl is eating a plate of fries whilst Doug chomps on a burger. ‘That’s a mean looking burger Doug.‘ Observes Carl. ‘You wanna bite?’ ‘A heavy duty burger. A terminator burger. Did you know that the average American has four pounds of undigested meat in the gullet?’ ‘So! Are you going veggie on me now? We got the letter the other day. We are officially on the housing waiting list.’ ‘Really. Brilliant .’ ‘Petra’s chuffed.’ ‘Good. I’ll see if it can be expedited. Though why I want to lose you as a tenant I don’t know. I suggest you hassle your councillor if you want to do something about it yourself. It can only help.’ ‘Will do but there is no great hurry. So what’s going on with you?’ ‘Cathy and I had a barney though there were no fisticuffs involved. I pushed her buttons too hard.’ Carl downs two inches of Fosters. ‘What was it about then? She wants to get hitched?’ ‘Hold that thought whilst I get the refills.’ Carl forks his remaining fries into his mouth. ‘She wants us to be a couple and she is up the duff, has a bun in the oven, pregnant.’ ‘Shit. If it is shit.’ Responds Doug. ‘Not only is she pregnant but she didn’t even discuss it with me and now she thinks she has the upper hand.’ ‘The bitch.’ Laughs Doug. ‘It’s not funny having someone fuck with your life. This happened a couple of days ago. The eve of her birthday in fact. The bastard thing is that I miss her. Not so much miss her physically. It’s her emotional presence and commitment. She has got under my skin and I was determined not to let that happen.’ ‘You’re in love mate. It creeps up on you. Wham.’ He slams his fist down on the table. ‘You’re done.’ He qualifies. 'I think she has put a spell on me. She hasn’t been the same since she came back from that retreat.’ ‘The first time I met Petra I thought she was right devious gobby tart. Mind you she had just sold me some bum gear. She has five brothers so I guess she had to learn to stand up for herself.’ ‘I let my mind run away with me sometimes. It gets out of control, like a runaway train.’ ‘The mind machine.’ ‘Intellectual overdrive.’ ‘Why is that?’ ‘Shit happens. The death of a used camel salesman in Ulan Bator, the felling of a tree in the rainforest, too much processed food.’ ‘That’s life.’ ‘That’s the interconnectedness of all things.’

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Outside on a bench behind the bandstand Carl and Doug sit wreathed in a cloud of heavy grey smoke that is reluctant to dissipate. ‘Very clement weather for this time of year.’ Comments Carl. ‘What are you going to do about Cathy? Getting down on your hands and knees and begging her to take you back? Her dressed in dominatrix gear and you licking the soles of her boots.’ ‘Blow makes me randy but I would have to have a lobotomy to be that compliant.’ A smart looking couple pushing an infant in a smart looking three-wheeled Jeep pushchair avert their nostrils and give them a look of disdain as they pass.’ ‘Spare some change Guv.’ Carl calls out to them. ‘Talking of feeling randy. I wonder if those girls fancy a ride. In the Transit. In the New Forest perhaps. Do you have their number?’ ‘You mean Trisha and Donna?’ Carl watches a pigeon and a squirrel squaring up over a piece of bun. ‘I think I want to stay away from those two. They are a bit dicey.’ ‘Where’s your spirit of adventure?’ ‘Fuck it. I’ll give them a ring.’ ‘Trish. It’s Carl. You alright? Yes, I did as well. Do you girls fancy coming for a drive out into the Forest this afternoon. With Doug and myself. Yes Doug. Oh is she. What about you? Have you got anything on? Kinky. Ok. We will pick you up in say twenty minutes.’ ‘You don’t expect me to get in that thing do you?’ Asks Trisha dubiously, wrinkling her nose in disdain. ‘What is it? The Pukemobil.’ ‘Now don’t upset her. She’s very sensitive.’ Doug’s Transit van is faded yellow with a taint of green. A long window on each side and in the two back doors. ‘It’s a collectors item. Are you getting in?’ ‘You would have to be mental or colour blind to want to own this. Did you inherit it.’ Trisha climbs into the front seat.’ ‘Shove your arse over Trish.’ Requests Carl as he too climbs in. ‘I’m glad you didn’t say fat arse.’ ‘You’re not fat, just well-upholstered.’ ‘You’re so kind. Where are we going?’ She enquires. ‘First stop is the offie to pick up some cans and skins then we can drive out on the A35, pass the Cat and Fiddle towards Lyndhurst. Cool?’ ‘Cool.’ Carl and Trisha agree. Some thirty minutes later Doug turns left off the main road in direction Burley just as the New Order tape comes to an end. The open land stretches away on both sides of the road for miles with an occasional cluster of trees. Ponies are dotted around the landscape. They pull over to the side of a designated parking space to partake of refreshments. Being good citizens they have refrained from drinking en route. ‘Why don’t we pile in the back there. I gave it a good clean out a few days ago. There’s a carpet and cushions.’ ‘Yeah let’s party.’ Declares Trisha enthusiastically. Carl is uncharacteristically quiet, quite content to be a backseat conversationalist, his mind preoccupied, stuck only with sticky tape and not superglue.

In the cosy back of a van where the air is thick with smoke and the aroma of canned lager and cider hangs heavy in the air, then the thoughts of two men and an attractive solitary female are not on the day to day logistics of running the local airport. Having no claim on Trisha but realising someone has to make the first move he sidles over next to her and kisses her tentatively to which she responds affirmatively. Now his tongue probes assuredly, enjoying the taste of alcohol in her mouth. His right hand reaches up to stroke her left breast under its covering of jumper and bra. He stops his activity. ‘You don’t need all this on.’ He says helping her out of her top. She unclips her bra. Doug meanwhile is still smoking with his back against the opposite side of the van though watching with interest. ‘You’ve got great tits.’ Carl says fondling first one then the other. ‘What do you think Doug?’ ‘A nice handful.’ He agrees. Carl kisses her long and hard for several minutes. Opening one eye he sees Doug has moved over and is unbuttoning Trisha’s skirt and running a hand up her thigh. He pauses to watch as Doug pulls her skirt open to reveal her orange coloured thong. Carl lowers his mouth to her right tit and takes the nipple in his mouth and rolls his tongue around it whilst squeezing her left. ‘Oooh.’ Is Trisha’s response. Doug pulls off the thong which she assists by lifting up her bottom and squeezes her inner thigh preparatory to easing a couple of digits into her wet fanny. Carl raises his head to go face to face again. Trisha turns towards him her hand reaching for his jeans zipper and pulls it open. Carl obligingly undoes his waist button and helps her get his erection out into the open. Doug withdraws his hand as naked now she kneels over Carl’s prick and takes it in her mouth. With her head down and bottom raised Doug resumes his finger-fucking. ‘Umm, that’s nice.’ Commends Carl on her performance after several minutes. ‘That’s so good Trish but I’m busting for a piss.’ ‘You pick your times.’ She complains sitting up and wiping her mouth. Carl straightens his clothing and opens a door and climbs out, shutting the door behind him. The car park has accrued several more vehicles and a family are walking up the slope back to their car. It has clouded over now and spotting with rain. The nearest cover appears to be a copse some fifty yards distance on the other side of the road. Returning to the van four minutes later Carl is unconcerned to find Doug with his jeans and pants down to his knees with Trisha orally pleasuring him. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ll roll one up.’ As they continue he takes a mouthful of lager and starts rolling, whilst glancing up occasionally to take in the action. ‘His cock is longer and thicker than mine.’ He notes. ‘Though not circumcised.’ He lights up and takes a few long drags and gets a hard on watching the sex act taking place a yard from him. Trisha looks up and over at him. ‘By the tense look on his face he’s going to come soon. She wants me now. I want her now.’ He crawls over to them and handing the spliff to Doug says to him. ‘You don’t mind if I go first do you?’ ‘Uh. No. I’d prefer a fuck anyway.’ ‘Over here Trish. Lie on these cushions.’ Carl pulls off his jeans and pants and without

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preamble shoves his cock into her cunt and fucks her hard and fast whilst Trisha grips him tight with arms and legs. ‘Slower.’ She gasps but Carl takes no notice and shoots his load in three minutes twenty nine seconds flat. He withdraws and rolls off her. ‘Fuck. Is that it? I want more. Are you up for it Doug?' Doug wastes no time in taking the vacated place. Carl gets dressed as Doug squelches inside Trisha and finishes off the can. He watches voyeuristically as Doug’s hairy arse bobs up and down and Trisha’s tits shake and quiver in response. Doug grunts and Trisha provides a counterpoint with exaggerated sound effects, especially loud when she climaxes. After five minutes she has her second orgasm with Doug sweating over her and after seven one is wrenched out of him. ‘I’m going to be sore and I have to work tonight.’ She complains shoving Doug off her. ‘Ah what’s that.’ She screams startled. Carl looks up to see two pair of brown eyes staring into the van set in equine heads. ‘Even the wild life is queuing up.’ Comments Carl. Back in Bournemouth Doug’s mobile chirps into life and he has to explain to Petra why she hasn’t been able to contact him. ‘I’ll be in an hour or so.’ He says finishing the call. ‘You can drop me off at my place Doug.’ After dropping off Carl Doug drives off to take Trisha home. Carl goes into the living room and turns on the tv to Jazz fm and checks the ansaphone. No message from Cathy. It is half past five this Sunday afternoon and he is feeling wiped out so takes a shower, dries off, examines his naked body in the steamed up full-length mirror. ‘I have shed a few pounds recently. But still look toned, just.’ He admits, with a rider. He enters the spare room and loads up the barbell with eighty pound weights and works out for twenty minutes, gets into a light sweat and having finished goes into his bedroom to find put on clean underwear. ‘I’ll have a read and a lie down for ten minutes. Where’s Gurdjieff?’ An hour later he wakes up with a start from a dreamless sleep feeling worse than he did before he drifted off but a mug of strong filter coffee revives him. ‘I’ll pop to the video shop and pick up a curry.’ he decides. Jeff Bridges’ paranoia is well-founded amid fear for his son’s safety in suburban Arlington Road when the phone rings. ‘Hullo.’ ‘It’s Doug. You are not going to believe this my son. The day starts off normal enough then you have a smoke and the world goes topsy turvy. Though that is usually part of the buzz.’ ‘You sound a mite serious. Should I sit down with a glass of brandy?’ Jokes Carl. ‘Perhaps you should.’ ‘Where are you? Do I have to bail you out?’ Carl returns to his seat on the settee and pauses the dvd. ‘No, no. I’m in the van cleaning up the spunk and beer stains. After I left you I had a revealing chat with Trisha.’ ‘Really.’ With a touch of cynicism.

‘We were just chewing the fat on the way to her place, talking about the band and the gigs we did and I mentioned about the funeral I told you about a couple of months ago. Get this. You know Donna’s surname is Carletti right. Well I didn’t till tonight. The old geezer who died was also Carletti. Turns out he is, was her bloody father in law. Your Donna is married to his son.‘ ‘Hold on. She is not my Donna.‘ Carl feels compelled to interrupt. ‘You’ve been screwing a gangsters moll. Apparently she didn’t attend the funeral because she has had a bust up with her hubby. I remember him. A right flash git. Reminds me of the bad guy in that Arnie film. Kindergarten Cop.’ ‘This has really made my evening Doug.’ ‘I thought you should know as soon as possible. That’s not all.’ ‘Don’t tell me he is going to come looking for me?’ ‘No reason why he should. But I think you should stay away from her.’ ‘This is a worrying development. Fate cunningly disguised as random acts of coincidence. Synchronicity in the chord of yippee iay.’ ‘I don’t know the girls as well as you but didn’t you wonder how they could afford to be renting a large house like that? ‘I didn’t want to get involved. In specifics.’ Carl admits sheepishly detecting a hint of accusation in the question. ‘Trish does escort work to supplement their income. Now I have nothing against women selling sex but I’ve just stuck my dick in Trisha’s cunt and you’ve been donking that Donna as well. When you think one or both are out there putting it around, well.’ ‘Trisha told you this?’ ‘She said she does escort work. I think you and I better get ourselves checked over in the next couple of weeks and hope our dicks don’t fall off in the meantime.’ ‘Hang on. I think you are overreacting. I should imagine that she uses condoms with her clients. She is not a common junkie whore.’ ‘Yeah. But what do I do about Petra. How am I going to explain not wanting my nightcap to her. Or do I go ahead anyway.’ ‘The downside of marriage. You could pick up a complaint with any of your intimate dalliances Doug. What’s the difference?’ ‘You think I should keep stumm with my fingers crossed?’ ‘I do. Look out for any symptoms and go to the doctors and see if there are any tests you can take to get the all clear. I will be doing the same.’ ‘Speak to you soon.’ Doug terminates the call. ‘A storm in a wind tunnel no doubt. Just embarrassment that he followed me in and guilt at being unfaithful. All the same I will get a check-up’ Carl mutters to himself before resumption of the film.

Chapter 18: ‘Mr Thompson. And your wife. Come in. Through here.’ Carl escorts the shavenheaded large overweight man leaning on a walking stick and his small slim line wife from the hall into the Therapy Room.

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The man is wearing black tracksuit trousers and a Cherries sweatshirt. Pale of colour, thorny of demeanour; difficulty in walking. obviously in constant low to nagging pain. He has a snarling tiger head tattoo on his right forearm. His wife is a thin-faced lady with a large wart near the left side of her mouth from which spout a profusion of wirey hairs spoiling an otherwise pretty face. Apart from the over large nose. Lovely green eyes though. ‘Sit down.’ Carl directs the man to the client chair opposite him and the woman to the chair off to the right. ‘That’s a nice tiger’s head tattoo. Is it your wife’s Chinese astrology sign? I expect it was her idea for you to come here.’ ‘No.’ Declares Mr Thompson unequivocally. ‘Right Mr Thompson.’ ‘Marty. No one calls me Mr Thompson except officials.’ ‘My fee is forty pounds per session and I do not guarantee any cure or improvement in your condition.’ ‘Forty quid. No wonder you can afford to live in a nice house like this. I’m on the sick so do I get a discount?’ Marty is outraged. ‘I told you it would be expensive. But worth it.’ Chips in the woman. ‘You are?’ Queries Carl addressing her. ‘Leslie.’ ‘Marty and Leslie. I am not going to waste my time trying to convince you of the benefits of healing then you decide you would rather spend your money down the pub so this is how it works. You pay me now then I will answer all your questions. Agreed?’ Leslie reaches into her hand bag and extracts two twenty pound notes from her purse and gets up and passes them to Carl. ‘Trust and respect. By your stance and the way you walk you are having some back trouble Marty and despite x-rays and scans and high dosage medication the doctors can’t diagnose the problem or ease the pain and you are at your wits end. If you have gone the whole route then you have seen a Chiropractor and maybe an Osteopath but still you are suffering. To be honest you have probably exhausted by the efforts of the medial profession to sort you out. The drugs give some relief of the symptoms but haven’t cured the problem. Not every condition can be pinned down and labelled. Any questions.’ Marty looks at Leslie and she returns the look. ‘Is healing anything to do with Spiritualism or Faith healing?’ She asks. ‘Some healers are Spiritualists but I am not. As for faith. Well. We accept electricity as a source of power, television transmitters, microwave ovens but we don’t have to have faith in them or knowledge of how or why they work, we accept and believe that they do. Similarly with healing. Most people have some concept of a Higher Power, an image of God in some nebulous form. That is good to believe in. Focus on that if you want. You have come to me for help. I don’t need or require your validation for what I do so cynicism is not helpful and any hostility you have is misplaced. Do we understand each other? Finally the more open and receptive, relaxed and trusting you are the more benefit you are likely to receive.’ Carl is unusually brusque and impatient. ‘Now Marty if I can get you to lie on the couch there we will start with the treatment.’ Marty gets up and walks the few steps to the couch, sits on the edge and swings his legs up with difficulty and some discomfort with help from Leslie.

‘Lie on your side if that is best.’ Suggests Carl. Leslie hovers nearby so Carl suggests she sits back down. He slips a disk into the player of pleasantly inconsequential healing music; laced with subliminal elevating affirmations for the soul. ‘I’ll be laying my hands on various parts of your body. Just relax and enjoy the experience.’ He places a hand on the back of Marty’s head and the other at the base of the spine, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and visualises a white light streaming into his nostrils, rushing into his lungs and coursing through his blood system. He feel enervated and inspired, in tune with the creative power of the universe, brain cells tingling in rapture. His fingertips tingle and he feels an outpouring of energy through him but not of him passing into the prone body on the couch. ‘I am the microcosm of the macrocosm.’ He whispers a prayer. Scanning Marty’s back with the palms of his hands he feels the tension trapped there. The nodules of negative energy caused by resentment and guilt, frustration and pain. ‘It is alright to let it out. Release it. Let it go.’ Carl speaks quietly, comfortingly as to a child. ‘You feel others don’t understand your pain and you feel guilty for feeling that way. Guilty for blaming others for your condition. You are in a safe place here. Let it out.’ Marty begins to shiver slightly. To tremble, to shake, to sob. ‘Was there a major emotional upset connected with the accident?’ Carl asks turning to Leslie. ‘Um. His mother died a week before the accident. He was really upset.’ ‘I should have been there for her.’ Sobs Marty. ‘There is no point in blaming yourself. You have to let go. Turn onto your stomach if you can.’ ‘And our dog got run over.’ Leslie enlightens further. ‘You need to lighten the load of your emotional baggage. It creates inertia, an emotional gravity field that is holding you down.’ Explains Carl. Forty minutes later they are all about to exit the Therapy Room. Marty is free from pain and is cautiously in good spirits and Leslie is hoping for a more interactive orgasm from Marty than she has had in many months. ‘I’ll be giving you daily distance healing for the next seven days. If you need a further session here then do ring me. Take my card.’ ‘Hello Trevor. It’s Carl. Is Cathy there? I would like to speak to her.’ ‘I’m sorry Carl but Cathy has made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to speak to you.’ Trevor states decisively. ‘I need to speak to her Trevor. We had a bust up but I know we can make up again. Best sooner or later. Is she there? How has she been?’ ‘She is deeply hurt by the things you have said and done. Not that she has gone into great detail with me. She confides more with her mother. I know relationships can be difficult. Women frequently have an alternative way of seeing things because their brains are wired up differently than men’s. I do sympathise, really. For all our intellectual achievements they only have to yank our chains and we follow where they lead. The centre of their power is between their legs.’ ‘Thanks for sharing with me your words of wisdom Trevor. So will you at least tell

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Cathy that I called and ask her to ring me?’ ‘Of course. Good luck.’ Trevor hangs up. Carl puts down the receiver and remains seated on the settee in the lounge. ‘I wonder if he has a secret life as a slave. Or sleeps in a kennel. I’m sure that family have many secrets. There has to have been some inbreeding in generations past. Cathy and her sister have turned out reasonably well though. What would a child of ours come out like I wonder. Me being a proper father as opposed to an accidental sperm donor. Daddy. On the other hand although it is a biological imperative to procreate look around and you see a violent, fucked-up world. Hasn’t it always been that way though. When the Black Death was raging in the fourteenth century and the end of the world was looking near on nigh the young Cornish stable lad with his britches down by his ankles, his cock ramrod straight looking down lustfully at the Yeoman of the Guards sweet, innocent and buxom fourteen year old daughter laying back on the hay with her spread legs inviting did not think. I don’t want her to get pregnant so I’ll have a wank instead. No. After the horror and hardships of four years of war when the flu pandemic swept across the world in 1918 attempting to mop up the survivors did people stop screwing. Were no babies born the following year. I think not. The doctrine of the Catholic Church on contraception and abortion does affirm the continuation of the human race. New life, new .’ The ringing of the phone interrupts his meditations. ‘Ahtrisha.’ ‘Bless you. Are you alright?’ ‘Not really. I need an away day.’ ‘Did you boys enjoy the van session yesterday?’ ‘Very stimulating. We must do it again sometime.' 'If you like.' 'But on second thoughts Doug is concerned about catching something unpleasant and passing it to his pregnant wife. 'Is that a dig at me?' 'Have you got a passport handy?’ ‘Yes I have mine here.’ ‘Do you fancy a trip on the ferry to Cherbourg tomorrow?’ ‘Sure. But don’t we need to talk?’ ‘Come round tonight and we can talk then.’ ‘It will not be till gone eleven. I have an appointment.’ ‘Fine. You know where I live. Bring some casual clothes and don’t forget the passport. Got to go. Ciao.’ In Stewart's living room they sit comfortably drinking peach schnapps post Indian takeaway. 'After having a cotton bud pushed up my urethra to take a sample for testing for gonorrhoea and chlamydia I went to Asda to do food shopping and returned to the house where I checked my emails to see if I had any responses from my website Psychosemantics. co.uk. Not at the moment. Next I perused the pix of Trisha, selected thirty of the most stimulating and copied them onto a blank cd. Half a dozen of the most revealing I uploaded onto a soft porn website I subscribe to.' 'What comes around, goes around.' He quotes. 'The lurgi being an exception, I hope.

I have a cd for you.' 'What is it? Mario Lanza's greatest hits?' Enquires Stewart 'Trisha's greatest bits.' 'Do I know her?' 'You'll get to know some parts of her. Do you want me to get you anything?' 'Let me see. Presumably you are going as a foot passenger so a couple of bottles of decent wine, a large brie and a jar of strawberry jam will do nicely.' Stewart smiles broadly and rubs his palms together gleefully as if he would create fire. 'Will do. I think your Alzheimer's is getting worse Stewart. Have you thought about where you would like to be buried. 'You've missed out on the old folks home and the hospice.' He responds feigning indignation. 'That brought you into the here and now.' 'You want my advice on a matter do you?' 'I only want to use you as a sounding board so it won't require the expending of much mental energy. Your brain cells are safe with me.' 'Begin the begin.' 'Cathy and I rowed on the eve of her birthday and so there is a big fundamental rift between us. I did a holistic hatchet job on her and now I miss her and want us back together. The problem is I know I ought to love her but I don't feel it. She has a sexuality about her but it just doesn't do it for me. Maybe I'll get to love her on her level. She will be happy with that. She will make a good partner and mother but is tepid as a lover. However she won't be demanding, allow me plenty of space to follow my lusts until its time to move on or they abate on their own.' 'Love is not the only reason people get married or live together there are many other considerations. How do you feel about being a father?' 'I am coming round to the idea. A new stage in my spiritual journey. I'm doing it an unconventional Eastern way.' 'Do not worry about loving her. As long as she loves you, is obedient and will be guided by you it may well be a perfect partnership.' 'I am kind of old-fashioned I guess. She won't be expected to wear a burkha or wash my feet or become a mere household appliance. How's your autobiography going? Is it anywhere near completion? 'I have finished the first chapter. It is too much of physical strain to type on Word so I am recording my life on audiotape.' 'And pay someone to transcribe it into hard copy. Good idea.’ 'Will you have another Irish coffee?' 'I must get back for Trisha.' 'Dip your dick in Dettoll is my advice.' 'There go a few million brain cells.' 'You've gone through a transformation. You look brilliant.' Standing under the spotlight positioned above the door Trisha is transformed in Carl's eyes. Gone is the big hairdo to be replaced by short and scrunchy with a fringe leaning to the left that

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emphasises her round chubby cheeks. The black leather jacket, scarlet blouse, short leather skirt and stockings image routinely by-passes Carl's intellect and goes straight to his cock. 'I'm a bit pissed. I've been wined, dined, danced and fucked and I'm horny as hell so can I come in?' She smears lipstick on his cheek as she enters her bag over her right shoulder and a large holdall in her left hand. 'Don't worry I'm not moving in.' 'Down here to the right is the living room.' He can smell Davidoff Cool Water aftershave emanating from her. 'Nice place.' 'You'll like the bedroom as well. Sit down unless you fancy doing a striptease for me. Low on the tease though.' 'I need to sit down I'm a little wobbly. My feet ache I was dancing like mad. It was an 80's disco night. Madonna records, Banarama, 'you spin round, baby, right round'. Mmm 'don't you want me baby.' She chucks off her jacket and flops onto the leather settee full length. 'Coffee for you I think.' Five minutes later. 'I can see a flash of red when you cross or uncross your legs. Have you got red underwear on?' Asks Carl from the armchair opposite the settee where Trisha is now sitting up drinking her coffee. 'I have. Frilly ones. I'll take my skirt off shall I?' 'No leave it. I want to be teased.' Carl lights a cigarette, strains to hear what is being discussed quietly in the corner on the digital radio on the James Whale show for a few minutes. 'Do clients make you come?' He enquirers casually. 'Sometimes. I can't help it. I like sex.' 'Did he make you come tonight?' Carl drains his coffee mug and joins Trisha on the settee. 'Shut up. I'm shy.' 'No you are not.' Carl puts a hand to her face and turns it to look at him. 'Tell me.' 'He did. I did.' On a scale from one to five what rating would you give your orgasm?' 'Three I'd say.' Her lips part slightly and the tip of her tongue slides slowly across her upper lip. They kiss, briefly. 'Did he wear a condom?' He asks. 'Of course. I'm very clean and take precautions.' 'You always use condoms when you are working?' 'Yes of course. I'm not a slut. I'm providing a service. We need the money.' 'How come neither Donna or you has ever asked me to wear one?' 'You seemed like a nice responsible guy.' 'I am that.' Carl slides a caressing hand over her knee and up her thigh. ‘You can take you skirt off now. Take you blouse off. Red bra. Keep it on. Let me slip a couple of fingers into the gusset.’ He kisses and fingers her.

‘I’d like to see you being fucked again.’ ‘I’d like that.’ She replies. 'I'd like to see you with a guy's cock in your mouth and another cock in your cunt.' 'Mmm.' She licks her lips. 'When they have both come inside you.' He pauses fingering her, withdraws his fingers and brings them up to his nose for a sniff. 'Mm. Acceptable.' 'Will you fuck me?' 'You can suck me off for now. Shower. Fuck later. I’ve been taking these pills I bought from the Chinese herbalist that are meant to make my spunk taste of strawberries. See if they are working yet.’ ‘Really?’ Trisha come into the bedroom with a bath towel wrapped her and a hand towel on her head where Carl is lounging on the bed on top of the duvet that illustrates with cartoon figure scenes from the Kama Sutra in black and white checkered boxers and black shirt. ‘This hairstyle is so much less hassle. I can wash, run and go.’ ‘How’s Donna?’ She stands in front of the full-length mirror squeezing a blackhead. ‘She can be a right bitch when she’s on. Really cranky. She thinks you hypnotised into going down on me. She has never done it before. Did you?’ ‘Of course not. That would be highly unethical.’ ‘I thought not. Anyway she blames me.’ ‘Isn’t it common that when woman live together they frequently synchronise their periods?’ 'She is thinking of returning to Lewisham. If she does I will be in that house on my own. I’ll have to give a months notice anyway.’ She drops the towel and looks at herself critically in the mirror. ‘A curvaceous form. My big tits always attracting men and problems. Thighs too big. My bush could do with a trim. Frederico and his tickling beard. His tongue thought it owned my .’ ‘I think that is best for her. Are you late?’ ‘What? Oh. Donna and I haven’t been getting on well for sometime. We are out of synch with each other.’ ‘Mm. Interesting.’ Carl gets up smoothly from the bed and crosses to Trisha coming up close behind and fondles her. ‘Mmm that’s nice. I feel so relaxed with you.’ She affirms with a slight slur. He squeezes her tits and nipples eliciting a series of groans that go deeper and deeper. He rubs his stiff cock against the cheeks of her arse and then squeezes her buttocks, strokes the cheeks and does it again and again. Then down the valley, down and around where unravelling a few hairs he slips several fingers into her wet cunt. ‘I like a girl who is ready and waiting.’ ‘Shall we lie on the bed?’ ‘In a minute. Don’t move.’ He says as he pulls his hand away and moves over to the armchair and pulls it towards where Trisha stands.

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’Bend over Trish. Hold it. That’s it. I want you to watch me in the mirror screwing you.’ He pulls open the cheeks of her arse and slips his cock into her cunt. Gripping her hips he thrusts majestically, being turned on by watching her watching him as he fucks her. He feels a desire to sing a cowboy song or an aria from Nessun Dorma but he doesn't think he has much of a singing voice. ‘Enough of this so pleasurable experience of cock in cunt. It’s time to shoot to score. I don’t want to get sore.’ Carl emphasises each word slowly accompanied with a hard thrust. He is totally focussed on fucking. ‘One huge cock. Fucking for the Male. Fucking for Man. Fucking for Mankind. Fucking.’ Having finished speaking he goes into faster mode, slap, slap, slapping, digs his fingers into her buttocks and shoots his load. 'Hurhhh.' He shouts. ‘I suppose she’s finished.’ He thinks as he comes to a halt, pauses for thirty seconds and withdraws. ‘That was sex but not love. Where can I find the harmonious two?’ He asks of the denizens of other planes, real or imaginary. ‘I never thought it would be me to get on so well with you.’ Claims Trisha as they lay on the bed his spunk dripping out of her fanny onto his imported Indian duvet cover several minutes later. He reaches over to the sideboard and grabs a wad of tissues and lobs them onto her stomach. 'It's a delicate material.' He explains. She looks at them then him. ‘Will you lick me out?’ She asks invitingly. ‘No thanks. Call me an uptight Tory bastard but I don’t lick my spunk out of anyone’s fanny.’ ‘My Dad’s a Tory.’ ‘Do shut up Trisha. Let’s get to sleep we have an early start in the morning. In three hours.’ ‘Why haven’t you got a regular girlfriend?’ ‘We broke up recently.’ Carl turns his back on Trisha and lies on his side in a casual foetal position. ‘Goodnight.’ Says Trisha. ‘Goodnight,’ Says Carl. Chapter19: The day starts early, chilly and misty as daytrips often do and after a rushed cup of tea they bundle into the taxi to take them to the ferry port situated some four miles away in Poole. 'Your boarding passes and tickets Mr Gallows. Enjoy your trip.' The young check-in girl smiles and hands him the tickets. ‘What this Mr Gallows?’ Demands Trisha surprised snatching Carl’s passport out of his hand as they negotiate their way across the hall, around the seats, to a opening on the left which will lead them to the next stage in the procedure. ‘Sssh. I don’t like people to be able to keep tabs on me that’s all.’ ‘Well you paid with a credit card so .’

‘Shut up Trisha please. Give me the passport.’ ‘It runs out in two months. You. You are mysterious. I like that in a man.’ She hands it back.’ No passport Control Officers leap out at them as they proceed along a short corridor to enter a smaller hall where there are gathered twenty of so other passengers waiting for the Embarkation Bus to return for them. ‘Looks like it will be a dull day.’ Observes Trisha. She is adequately dressed for chilly weather turning squally. Under her sand coloured parka her thick jumper keep her heaving bosom warm. Her blue jeans complement her green chukka boots. Black is the colour of choice for Carl’s parka. ‘Here we go.’ After a fried breakfast in the cafeteria accompanied by cups of coffee and a beaker of melting ice cubes from the dispenser they take a stroll around this deck of the Barfleur with Carl acting as guide. He points out the no-longer duty free shop, the desserts and sandwiches bar, the seating, the bar area where they sit at a table. Carl smokes a cigarette, puts on the headphones to his cd player and ignores Trisha for ten minutes before she resignedly wanders off in search of entertainment and returns twelve minutes later with a novel, ’the wire in the blood,’ by Val Mcdermid, purchased at the kiosk. Rain lashes the large panoramic windows when Carl opens his eyes some forty five minutes later. ‘When in the Gobi.’ Carl nods his head in the direction of a man carrying a tray loaded down his large bottle of Kronenberg. ‘Shall we have one?’ Asks Trisha. ‘Good idea Trisha. I’ll have twenty Marlboro as well.’ The voyage progresses and the bar area fills up when an Acappella choir of French schoolchildren returning home after a successful tour of the Midlands put on an impromptu concert. After changing some currency Carl and Trisha goes out onto the open deck at the bow to view their entry into Cherbourg harbour. On their left the long breakwater is a darker shade of grey than the water or sky though there is a smidgen of Turneresque light over the town to the fore. ‘Can’t you feel the cells of your lungs are in paroxysms of pleasure over all this fresh air. The bronchi break dancing with joy.’ Carl pulls back his arms and inhales deeply theatrically. ‘I can but I don’t smoke.’ She smiles sagely taking his arm in hers. ‘I believe in the scouring and regenerating qualities of cold wind. Let’s go back inside.’ Carl removes her arm from his and heads towards the door. After getting off the transit bus in the centre of town they go into a small local bar and Carl orders two bottles of beer and two shots of Calvados and where Carl gives Trisha a long, inaccurate, meandering talk on the interesting history of Cherbourg due to it’s eminence as a port which he gleaned off the internet prior to falling asleep waiting for his visitor to arrive. ‘So we could take a walk down there and follow the path to the left and visit the marina. There’s a statue of Napoleon on horseback we can look at. Further on there is the horticultural garden where we can walk through a greenhouse occupied by cacti of

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varying shades and sizes including one that is reputed to have stabbed to death a small dog that had had the temerity to attempt to take a piss against it. Monsieur. Les mêmes satisfont encore.’ He lights a cigarette. ‘Just popping to the loo.’ He gets up from opposite Trisha and makes his way to the back of the room and exits into an enclosed yard where a urinal is fixed to he wall. His stream of urine steams in the afternoon air. He returns to the bar. ‘I like this Calvados. It’s .’ ‘Made from apples. Gurdjieff was fond of it.’ ‘Gurdjy who?’ ‘Just my favourite teddy bear when I was growing up.’ ‘A security blanket thing.’ She acknowledges. ‘No I had a revolver for that. Only kidding. I am much more boring than you think I am.’ ‘I find you interesting. I admire people who have something to say even when I haven’t a clue what they are talking about. ’ Carl flicks a Ricard table mat into the air from the edge of the table and catches it. ‘After the cacti it is only a short walk to visit the museum of stuffed birds if it is still there. Or we could go to Carrefour straightaway and do our shopping.’ ‘I’ll pop to the loo first. Where is it?’ ‘Out the back there. Mind you don’t get flashed.’ They walk to the Douglas Parfumerie on the Street of the Castle where he buys her Jean Paul Gaultier Eau De Toilette Spray at a good price in euros, along the Quai Alexandre 111 then around the fish processing plant to the supermarket. They check their shoulder bags in and take a trolley and go shopping skipping the clothes and household items and navigating to the produce sections. In the dry meats section Trisha picks up a one inch thick by eight long salami. ‘Buy me this.’ She says. ‘You need one bigger than that.’ Carl objects and points to one two inches thick and ten inches long. ‘Cheeky bugger.’ At the fruit and veg section Trisha picks up two large melons and hefts them suggestively against her chest. ‘Behave yourself Trish. Put them down. The security guard is clocking us.’ After completing their purchases they collect their bags and adjourn to a café for afternoon coffee prior to catching a taxi to the terminal for the six thirty departure local time. ‘Down here I think.’ Carl leads the way along the narrow corridor to a door at the end. ‘I’m so excited.’ Giggles Trisha. He inserts a plastic key into the slot and opens the door into the darkened cabin and fumbles for the light switch. ‘Voila!’ He exclaims and steps aside. ‘Are you going to carry me across the threshold.’ Asks Trisha. ‘No but I’ll give you a shove. Step inside.’ ‘I’ll give you two bits.’ ‘Not even for a euro.’

‘Look at this. A full-size double bed.’ Trisha shouts with delight. ‘Not quite but good enough.’ At the foot of the bed against the wall there is a small unit attached to the wall with two drawers on which rest a box of Belgian chocolates and a shrink-wrapped bunch of fresh red roses dewy from the morning mist. ‘These must be for you.’ He indicates. ‘Oh Carl. This is brilliant.’ She propels herself towards him and throws her arms around his neck, reaching up to plant a smacker on his lips. She pulls away and takes a guided tour of the cabin. ‘I booked the honeymoon suite so we could have both comfort and privacy.’ ‘It’s a mini hotel room. It’s so romantic. Look there’s a shower here behind this screen with towels, soap, shampoo. A toilet. A radio on the wall here. A recessed wardrobe. There’s even a shoe-shining kit.’ Carl lobs his bag onto the bed, followed by his coat, sits down and removes his boots, opens the bag and pulls out a litre bottle of dark rum and a carton of orange juice. ‘It’s nice and warm in here. We can relax and cruise in style.’ Meanwhile Trisha is using the shower mirror to fix her makeup having first removed her coat and jumper. ‘Are there any glasses in there?’ Carl asks. ‘There are two plastic beakers.’ ‘Excellent. Hand them to me.’ They lie on their sides facing each other both naked. Carl casting his critical albeit approving eyes and hands over Trisha’s ample form as would an artist preparing to put brush to canvas. Carl the consummate technician, fuelled by lust and passion but where is the love. He rubs her right breast as it hangs from the tree as if expecting the skin to peel away then tweaks the nipple. He smoothes his hand over her stomach. ‘Why do you keep your thatch so thick and unruly Trish? You should get a trim. In fact shave it all off. What have you got to hide?’ ‘My big lips.’ ‘The labia minora.’ ‘I’m self conscious about their size.’ ‘They are largish but not ugly. Be proud and show them to the world.’ ‘One boyfriend I dumped because he called me Dumbo.’ ‘That is cruel.’ Sympathises Carl. ‘ Carl pushes a finger through her mons veneris curly hairs, over the clitoris and flicks her lips open then eases a finger into her punanny. ‘Lift that leg up and bring that knee round here.’ He shuffles a few inches distant from Trisha. ‘Watch. How does that feel?’ ‘Mmm. Nice.’ She leans towards him for a kiss but he hold her back. He withdraws his finger and takes hold of his cock and rubs it against her clit.’ ‘Go down on me Carl.’ She begs breathlessly. ‘I’d love to Trish but I have a condition.’ ‘What condition?’ She sounds sceptical. Carl pushes his cock in to the hilt. ‘Known as Eurotophobia which is a fear of pussy which prevents me from tonguing the holy of holies.’ ‘I don’t believe that. You’ve done it to Donna.’

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‘Believe it or not. Lie on your back now. That’s it legs up. I fancy a hard and fast ride.’ With her legs thrown over his shoulders and pinned down as she is Trisha is fully focussed on her ragged breathing and his smooth piston strokes in her cunt, his pubic bone applying pressure on her clit. She gasps for breath and moans with pleasure as Carl introduces grunts and other special effects. He pumps and thrusts, stoking the fire. Like the effect of a pebble thrown into a pool ripples of warm pleasures fan out from her clit spreading to her thighs and buttocks, up her cunt into her womb, suffusing her internal organs, spreading across her breasts, her neck and back reaching critical mass in her brain. Fireworks explode in her mind. An electric blue astral bolt of thunder zigzags across the black space of her inner universe. ‘Wake up Trisha.’ She does, to the concerned face of Carl wiping her brow with a wet towel. ‘What happened?’ ’You passed out for a few minutes. Nothing to worry about. My fault. I shouldn’t have done it to you.’ ‘Aww. Can you fetch me a glass of water?’ He returns with the water which she sips. ‘What did you do to me?’ ‘It is a technique I have learnt which doesn’t usually have such consequences. I haven’t mastered it yet. Not that I practice it often. You were not ready for it. I should have known it might be dangerous.’ ‘What the bloody hell are you talking about.’ She is feeling much better. ‘Its an Indian yogic technique loosely translated as the full body chakra orgasm.’ ‘Fuck you. You might have killed me.’ ‘I think it has been used as a secret weapon of war before now but in what circumstances it might be useful I can only speculate on.’ ‘If I was a spy or traitor you could fuck me to death.’ ‘You got it. You had me worried for awhile there.’ ‘Pass me some tissue I need to wipe myself. Did I orgasm?’ ‘I’m not sure if you had an orgasm or a fit. How do you feel?’ ‘As if I’ve had six orgasms and still have a few more in me.’ ‘Good.’ Carl replenishes his beaker of rum and orange and downs half of it inwardly chiding himself for his recklessness. He lights up a cigarette. ‘Must get to the shop.’ He reminds himself. ‘What do you think about me doing escort work?’ She asks getting up off the bed and turning on the radio. Drive time music. ‘I have no problem with prostitution. Sex between a man and a woman is generally a transaction of some kind. All women are prostitutes and all men punters where sex is involved. Some might say.’ She sits down on the bed and strokes his thigh. ‘What of love?’ ‘Love and sex coexist but not always at the same time or in the same place.’ She chides him for his cynicism. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’ She looks into his eyes and sees the transparent force field spring into activation. Her figure is reflected back to her. ‘This rum is forty percent proof and is coursing through your bloodstream and stimulating your erogenous bits including your brain. Apart from that I am a therapist

by profession and also by nature so its necessary and effortless for me to get people to like me, to trust me, to reveal their feelings. It is what I do. That’s nice.’ Trisha has taken his soft cock in her hand and is squeezing it gently. ‘You do like me don’t you?’ She asks seriously. ‘Of course I like you. You are fun to be with. A break from the stresses and strains of my busy working week. My trouble is I take my work home with me. To the pub, to the bedroom, into the kitchen. I’m a worrier I guess. You help me to relax. I can say things to you and I know you will not get upset. You are so understanding.’ She glances up from his cock to his face and reads sincerity there, somewhere. ‘Show me what you can do with that stud in your mouth Trish. I could do with another shag.’ Carl wakes up because of Trisha’s gentle snoring, the sweat dripping off his body and his aching arm which lies across Trisha’s waist at a slightly unnatural angle. ‘Must be getting in soon.’ Carl says rubbing a hand over his face and looking at his watch. Trisha stirs awake. ‘Are you coming to the shop? I need some fags.’ ‘Shop! No. I am going to take a shower. I feel awful.’ Awful indeed she is as she throws up outside of the terminal prior to getting in the taxi. The driver is dismayed but Carl calms his misgivings by passing him a fiver as he gets in the front seat. After dropping a clingy Trisha off at her place Carl instructs the driver to take him home. Chapter 20: ‘This is Carl.’ ‘Hello Carl. This is Abi.’ Abi is a platinum blonde fifty one year old who regularly goes under the sunbed, visit’s the local sports and leisure centre and has a penchant for wearing either white or beige casual wear. Also for gold jewellery, shiny rings and vivid make-up. ‘So how are you this wet morning? Dry I hope.’ ‘Quite dry thank you. What I hope is that you are not enjoying yourself too much in my daughters absence.’ ‘We are not actually married or engaged, living together or committed to each other as far as I am aware Abi. Is she there?’ ‘No she is not. She has gone away for a few days. With a friend.’ Silence. ‘She feels you do not appreciate her. Do you love her Carl?’ ‘I care for her Abi. I would rather have her in my life than out.’ ‘Perhaps that is enough. Rurrh.’ Twenty seconds pass. ‘Sorry. I had to spit. I really must give up smoking.’ ‘I’ve got a carton of your brand you can have.’ ‘Really. How thoughtful. On the downside for poor Cathy is that you are a serial womaniser but on the plus side her sex life is awfully exciting. I wish, never mind.’ ‘I’ll ring again at the weekend if I don’t hear from her first. Tell her I rang and offer her my undying love. Ciao.’

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Carl types ‘sexy lingerie’ in the space, pages from the uk, and clicks on Google search and is offered a multiplicity of websites to explore. He is confident that Cathy is resolving what she needs to resolve in her own inimical way so he wishes to buy her a present to celebrate their joyful reunion. ‘What size is she? Medium? Eight? Ten? It can’t be too difficult with underwear. What kind of body. Slim. Not much tit. Hips? She has those. Juliette Lewis figure. Not quite though. Plus a few pounds. Size eight I think. She’s on the cusp really. She is pregnant. Eight. There is no way she will be comfortable in red. Too self-conscious. She’ll say “you want me to dress up as a whore?” Black? Gold. Yeah. Cathy in Gold. Who does Gold? Ten minutes later Carl confirms his order of a lacy suspender garter belt with matching thong, fine fishnet stockings with 3” lace tops, a size 33b, the same as Michelle Pfeiffer, push up bra in padded lace, a garter plus stockings, babydoll nightdress, a chemise, a crotchless body stocking and size 6 high heels all in gold with a hint of pink. ‘Not that I expect her to wear it all at once. The icing on the cake.’ ‘What did you do yesterday?’ ‘I had a job in the evening. I was sore because I had a Brazilian earlier.’ ‘He gave you a hard time did he?’ ‘It’s a bikini wax.’ ‘There you go.’ ‘Are you my manager now?’ ‘I’m just looking after your assets.’ ‘Can I come round? I’m bored.’ Carl is sitting in the kitchen at the table a half eaten bacon sandwich on a plate before him. A mug of tea at his right hand an electricity bill to his left. ‘I would love to see you Trish but I’m up to my neck in it today. Maybe later.’ ‘I’m escorting later.’ ‘I have to go now. Au revoir.’ ‘Hello Donna, It’s Carl.’ ‘Hi Carl. You’ve been neglecting me but now you are thick with Trish you haven’t got time for me. She has a big crush on you, you know?’ ‘I know. Is she there?‘ ‘No, she is out for the evening.‘ ‘I was hoping we could meet up tonight.’ ‘I am going back tomorrow so this is my last night.’ ‘That is a pity. Well then we have to meet up to say goodbye.’ ‘Pick me up in thirty minutes. No make it forty five.’ ‘What about Trisha, will she mind?’ ‘Definitely she will. That makes it all the more fun.’ Carl sits in his car smoking a cigarette and glances through the bars of the gate down the short drive to the illuminated columned portico underneath which a red door remains steadfastly closed. ‘I see the red door and I want it open now.’ He sings tunelessly. ‘I could take her for a meal at a Harvester. We could go to a bar.’ The door opens and Donna steps out. Momentarily as she turns away from the door to take a step her image is paused in Carl’s mind. The combination of her paleness, dark

clothes, long black hair and downward lighting gives her a spectral presence in his fertile imagination. She has a slash of red across her throat. He does not recognise this creature. The image is stationary but the real thing is not. ‘Oy. Let me in. Day dreaming? She taps on the passenger window and he leans over and lets her in. ‘It is you?’ ‘Of course it is me. I’ve only wearing a long black wig.’ She says shaking her head. Which of course is not true. She is also wearing a short pvc dress, that highlights her cleavage and interesting knees, and zips up the front, a short black leather jacket, black stockings and black high heel shoes. With a red silk scarf wrapped around her neck. ‘I’m not taking her anywhere where the bulb wattage is above twenty five.’ ‘ She leans over and pecks him on the cheek. ‘Black becomes you. You look amazing. Who are you emulating tonight? Anyone I know?’ ‘I can’t decide if I am Cleopatra or a vampire.’ ‘You could try drinking your own menstrual blood for starters. It’s a quick method to assess your aptitude and is good for iron deficiency, apparently. ‘I would rather suck your blood.’ ‘I’m sure I can find you something to suck on.’ They drive off. ‘Where are we going? I feel like clubbing.’ ‘Do you know the Throat?’ ‘Never heard of it.’ ‘It’s a private members club for those interested in leather, rubber, pvc, BDSM and dancing or anyone who can afford the membership fee. I have only visited once or twice. Six times to be exact. Doesn’t get crowded is why I like it.’ ‘Have you got any eez?‘ ‘Look in the glove compartment. A small box. There are some in there. Help yourself.’ Carl turns left at the lights and proceed along the Holdenhurst Road. A light rain falls that fizzles out as they pull up outside a hairdressers supplies wholesaler in a side street several minutes later. ‘In there?’ ‘In the basement. The underside of Bournemouth. I’ll see if we can find anywhere to park.’ A hatch opens in the side door and Carl is asked for this months password. ‘Nippletwist’ Carl remembers correctly. The door opens into darkness and they enter through the portal. A dim light burns at the end of a short corridor and here they turn right into a small room with a bar to one side and several tables and chairs. The main illumination comes from the bar area and the secondary light from a burning candle on each of the three tables. Several customers in their Throat outfits talk in low tones and sip their ice blue cocktails. The walls and ceiling appear to be painted in matt black emulsion. The muffled sounds of music comes from a speaker on the wall. ‘Drink? Asks Carl and steers her to the bar where they sit themselves on high stools. ‘What would sir like?’ Asks the bored barman stroking one side of his handlebar moustache. ‘Um. Two stiff ones up the rear with a cherry please.’

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‘Sorry I’m new here.’ ‘Two of the blue ones like they are drinking.’ Carl nods in the direction of the couple. Carl takes out his cigarettes and offers one to Donna. They sips their drinks with a straw. ‘I didn't really believe that you had hypnotised me. To tell the truth I enjoyed licking out Trish. I just never thought of doing it before. She likes doing me you see.’ The barman sits on his side of the bar reading a racing magazine by the reflected light from a bottle of vodka. ‘I'm grateful for all the support you have given me the past few weeks.’ ‘My pleasure.’ ‘You know what a woman wants.’ ‘What does Trish want?’ ‘She wants you.’ ‘How hard does she want things?’ ‘She burns hot but burns out quickly.’ ‘What does she need?’ ‘A rich husband so she can stop being a whore.’ ‘Hey that’s coming on a bit strong.’ She's a slapper. The Lambretta of Lewisham. Everyone rode her. ‘And I thought you two were best friends.’ A willowy woman in a red plastic mini-skirt and purple bra strolls in from another room with a leash to which is attached a male on all fours naked except for an antique codpiece and a studded dog collar encircling his neck. ‘We are. It was her that you and your friend screwed in the back of a van remember. She always wants to please. Tap her on the head and she opens her legs for anyone.’ The woman goes to the bar and orders. ‘I’ll have a Scrotum-Scraper and a bowl of water for the dog.’ ‘That’s enough of your character assassination Donna. How are you feeling.?’ ‘I feel like dancing.’ ‘I’ll show you around.’ They walk along another dark corridor until they reach the back wall. To the right is a heavy soundproofed door which Carl pushes firmly to allow access and they pass through into an audio surf of drums and bass. A large room with seating of armchairs and sofas congregating at one end and half way along the walls whilst at the other end an empty space with a rack of traffic lights flashing alternatively suspended above. There are half a dozen people already in situ looking rather bored despite the large projection screen on one wall showing a pornographic cartoon. After forty minutes Carl depart the dance floor to get another drink and leaves Donna to it. He sits on a stool next to a female who has her back to him. He orders a tequilla sunrise. ‘Haven’t seen you here for awhile?’ Carl turns to the blonde dressed in a green cupless and crotchless pvc basque set. Short hair, heavy mascara, cute nose, wide mouth. ‘Early thirties. Worried about her career, first time conception and the menopause.’ Intuits Carl. ‘Your hair is shorter. But I recognise you. Umm. Dominque? We had an enjoyable time

as far as I remember.’ ‘Is wasn’t that long ago love.’ ‘Short term memory loss. I’m self-medicating for it. So what are your plans tonight.’ ‘The usual. Pain and shame.’ ‘Your husband doesn’t understand you?’ ‘He earns shitloads of money and worships the ground I walk on and I have a senior management position in a website design company and I get to boss around nerdy twenty somethings all day and make everyone’s life a living hell and I need somewhere to unwind.’ ‘The alpha female syndrome. You are lucky you have found an outlet.’ ‘So do you fancy chaining me up and whipping my arse?’ ‘Not tonight Dominque. I have pastoral duties to attend to.’ ‘You could do your pastoralising here and I could watch. That would be a vicarious thrill.’ ‘For you yes. But no thanks.’ ‘There is plenty happening in the dungeon. Mainly gay stuff. The bed has been requisitioned by a local councillor and she is taking on all comers. I’m sure I can inveigle my way in somewhere.’ ‘The night is young. If you ever feel you are in need of psychotherapy give me a ring. Or I just might take you up on your offer, again.’ ‘If you take the word therapist and split it into two words you get ’the’ and ‘rapist. The Rapist. Have you ever though about that.’ ‘I can’t say I have.’ Detachment is a necessary quality, amongst others, for a good therapist and Carl has it in abundance. But for him with detachment comes boredom so after twenty minutes Carl decides it is time to go. Carl puts a ten pound note on the counter. ‘Get me a refill as well. I have to check on someone and make sure the natives are not being too friendly.’ ‘Just in time.’ Comments Carl as he takes a few steps onto the dance floor. He spots Donna standing at the back with a leathered lothario’s hand exploring her inner thighs. ‘Hey man. How are you doing? She and me are leaving now. Come on Donna.’ ‘Carl It’s you. You look amazing. Like this tingly blue electricity is coming off your body. I feel wonderful. In love with life. With the world.’ ‘Come on.’ He takes her by the arm and gently but firmly leads her out of the club. Carl sits forward on the sofa in the living room with one knee jutting out and between Donna’s legs as she stands before him. He breathes in deeply and imagines he can smell her desire two inches away from his nose. He reaches up and takes hold of the inch long silver zipper and slowly pulls it down. Her breasts part and quiver free from their restraint. Down comes the zipper to her navel. A hand reaches up to push aside the stiff material to expose a portion of breast and a nipple and to touch, briefly. The journey of the zipper continues and stops, its work done. ‘I am my gift to you.’ Speaks Donna with feeling. Carl pulls his knee back and taking hold of her panties at each hip pulls them down and

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off her slim legs. He presses his face against her vulva.. The centre piece of the assemblage of stockings tops, suspenders and garter. With two fingers he pulls apart the labia and licks between them. ‘Ahhh.’ She replies. His hands pull her closer so she is standing between his open knees with her legs open. He tongues her clit. ‘Ahhhhhhhh. It’s never been this intense before.’ She groans and shivers momentarily. He continues licking and kissing taking her large clitoris between his lips and rubbing it. ‘This is ecstasy.’ She cries out as he slides two fingers into her cunt. ‘Here sit down.’ He instructs pulling her beside him and sliding onto the floor to kneel between her legs. ‘What a gorgeous sight. Your cunt framed by wispy blonde hair.’ He uses his fingers to open up her labia and tongues her there. Tongue and fingers lick and touch, probe and stroke, excite and inflame. She leans back, the cheeks of her arse on the edge of the cushion, moans with pleasure, taking short gasping breaths. Her swollen parts feel on fire. Her heart beating faster. She has reached a plateau of excitation that is either pain or pleasure or neither. Carl brings his head up and continues to finger fuck as he watches her watching him through half closed eyes. He rubs her clit with his thumb which elicits a long drawn out sigh followed by several minutes of staccato gasps. ‘How I love your delicious cunt, that I part so sweetly with my tongue. To thrust and probe, to lick and kiss, between your legs I find such bliss.’ Quotes Carl then resumes his oral ministrations. He gives her a love bite on each inner thigh. She jerks involuntarily as a series of contractions ripples out from her epicentre. A six pointer on the Richter scale. Carl sits back on his bum to admire his handiwork.’ ‘I don’t know why I’m so good to you.’ He smiles as her orgasm subsides. ‘I’m sure that is about to change.’ He stands up and undresses throwing his clothes onto the armchair. ‘I need something to drink.’ States Donna dreamily, her wig beginning to slip to the side. ‘I’ll get you a glass of water and you get yourself over to that rug over there. The white faux furry one. You can take the headpiece off but leave the stockings on.’ ‘Are you going to fuck me then?’ ‘You betcha.’ Donna lays on her side on the rug in a loose foetal position whilst Carl shafts her in a kneeling position. The Elephant position. Short, sharp strokes. He lays back resting on his elbows and she leans over him from the side and sucks his cock whilst holding it firmly between her fingers. She straddles him moving slowly up and down on his cock till he pulls her forward, lays back and gripping her buttocks thrusts into her dripping wet cunt. Next he flips her onto her back and resumes shagging her. ‘Fuck me, fuck me.’ She cries out. She writhes and bucks beneath him as she becomes more ecstatic. He grips her hands and holds them down above her head. He kisses her. ‘Spit on me. Bite me. Bite my tits.’ She implores almost delirious. Carl thrusts rhythmically, rolls her left nipple in his mouth, then sinks his teeth into her tit and sucks

hard. Her legs wrap round his waist gripping him hard. He bites her on the other tit and she cries out in pain. He thrusts and spits onto her lips, into her mouth. She moans open mouthed. He brings his head down to kiss her and she surprises him by biting his top lip. ‘You bitch.’ He tastes blood in his mouth and lets his saliva dribble down onto her face. She digs her nails into his shoulders and rakes them down his back as he pumps his spunk and she opens her heart, mind and soul to receive him. His ejaculation her benediction. Even as Carl grunts himself out tears form and well in Donna’s eyes as she is overcome with emotion. Carl gets off and sits by her side holding her as she cuddles him and cries. He wipes the trickle of blood from his torn lip. ‘How do you feel?’ ‘Shattered and shore. Sore.’ ‘I’ll make some coffee and we can have a smoke. That will take the edge off for you. Then I’ll call you a taxi.’ After Donna has departed Carl goes upstairs still in his underwear he put on to see her out and to wish her bon voyage to check his injuries. The several scratch marks he has sustained have not broken the skin and will go in a couple of days as far as he can diagnose whilst twisting his body to see in the bedroom mirror. His lip is sore. ‘I’ll take a shower. Wash away the seminal stew.’ The hot spray relaxes his body and refreshes his mind. ‘I’ll miss Donna. She had a sparkle. A pleasant diversion. I still feel randy though it can keep till tomorrow.’ Chapter 21: Carl is sweating profusely and breathing heavily leaning on the kitchen table after a early afternoon six mile jog along the promenade, three miles each way. He brushes a sticky lock of hair off his forehead. The phone rings and he picks it up. ‘Hey it’s you. Ok. I will pop round but I have an appointment in a couple of hours.’ Trisha opens the door wearing only a fluffy pink bathrobe and lets him in. ‘I was just going to take a bath.’ She tells him unnecessarily. ‘And I thought you were about to clean out the cesspool.’ ‘Come up and scrub my back if you want.’ Suggests Trisha . Carl leans over and sponges Trisha’s back, up and down, around in circles. A light, airy commodious bathroom. The tiled wall along the length of the pink bathtub has a flamingo motif, the several birds in the foreground perhaps three feet tall with black hard eyes and wicked looking beaks. Carl wonders what flamingos get up to in the dead of night. At the bottom of the bath is a shower cabinet, to the left of the door a towel rail and to his left some four feet distant the toilet bowl. Two shelves on the adjacent wall and a mirrored medicine cabinet.

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‘She was very emotional when she came home. I don’t know what you did to her but she kept crying. Then she kept me awake half the night cause she wouldn’t shut up talking. Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit. She got on my nerves and we had a row and I locked myself in ‘ere. That shut her up for awhile. Then we made up. Then I saw the bruises.’ ‘You are going to miss her.’ He sponges her front. ‘We are paid up till the end of next month. I might decide to stay. I need a pee. Help me out.’ He takes her arm but stands back as anticipating a small tidal wave which leaps over the edge of the tub to crash on the mat by his feet. ‘The rent here must be a grand a month so you won’t be able to stay here. You ought to get a day job, get out and make new friends. Take a course. Look for a flat. I'll help you out for awhile till you get re-established. Bring a few clients your way. I like your shaven look. Very neat and tidy.’ She sits on the loo dripping wet and looking at her Carl feels himself getting aroused. ‘Are you going to stand there and watch me?’ She asks casually as she urinates. ‘No. While you are down there you might as well have something to occupy yourself.’ He says stepping forward and unzips his trousers. ‘Cop hold of this.’ He pulls out his semi erect penis. ‘Can’t a girl pee in peace?’ She questions without conviction. ‘What better pee in peace than with a prick in your mouth.’ She leans forward and takes his cock in her mouth and starts licking and sucking the tip, then down the shaft, holding her lips tight threatening to swallow him whole. She relaxes the grip and slides her mouth along his length again and again and again. Getting close to climaxing he decides to postpone the moment. 'Hold it.' He pulls away from her. He opens the cabinet out of curiosity and notices a bottle of baby oil and a packet of condoms amongst the other items which gives him an idea. ‘Have you finished?’ He steps back and she wipes herself and stands up. ‘What now?’ ‘Stand up. I want to kiss you.’ ‘What here a um mmmmm.’ He interrupts her talking with a long open-mouthed kiss that takes her breath away. ‘I don’t want you to make me pass out again.’ She cautions him. ‘Don’t worry. Carry on sucking me. You were doing good. I’ll just slip off my trousers and pants. And the rest. That’s better. I am unimpeded now.’ She goes down on her knees and takes his prick in her mouth again as he stands away from the toilet. ‘That’s nice. Mind the teeth.’ He allows her to stimulate him for several minutes. Holding his cock in her left hand her other is soon busy between her legs, rubbing her clit and parting her lips. ‘Stand up and lean over. Hands on the bath rim. I see you have some baby oil.’ She dutifully bends over presenting her rear to him. He pours oil onto the palm and fingers of his right hand and pushes it between her legs, easing some into her cunt, up the valley of the cheeks of her arse and over her bum. His hand goes back between her legs and he hooks his index and middle finger into her cunt and rubs her there. She moans with pleasure. ’Do not move.’ He commands as he strides to the cabinet, removes a condom from the

packet, tears it open and rolls it over and down his stiff erection, red and straining to go. He pours more oil onto his hand and puts down the bottle and takes up a rear-entry position. Trisha shuffles her bottom. ‘Fuck me.’ She asks. He pushes his middle finger slowly but firmly into and up her anus testing the way and she gasps with surprise. He works his finger in and out several times then presses the tip if his cock against the opening and pushes hard meeting a little resistance from the muscle ring. ‘I hope she doesn’t pop.‘ Is the thought that enters his head. He is in. He thrusts slowly and rhythmically, grasps her pendulous tits, thrusts slowly and rhythmically then releases her tits and stands more or less erect grabs hold of her hips and fucks hard and fast, hard and fast, his groin slapping against her backside. ‘Ahh ahh. Fuck me. Fuck me.’ She implores. ‘I’ll fuck you, you bitch. Fuck you. Fuck you Cathy. Bitch. Bitch. Fuck you.’ He calls out in a groan come strangulated cry as he teeters on the edge but then slows down. 'Hurh'. Thrust. 'Hurh.' Thrust. As if from a great depth he summons up the energy, muscles tense, face red and comes with knee-shaking intensity. A shiver runs up his spine. ‘More, more, more.’ She cries. He gives her a few more strokes but his cock is already softening as is his interest. He pulls out and she turns round and pulls the condom off him pulls him to the lino-ed floor, lies down with her legs spread and taking hold of his prick leads him in. ‘Was that nice?’ She asks as his now naked cock fills her slick cunt. ‘Best arse-fuck I can remember having.’ He tells her.. ‘You are special. I don’t allow just anyone to fuck me up the arse you know. Who is Cathy?’ ‘Who? Bring your legs up. ‘Oooh. Keep it moving. I’m nearly there.’ Ten minutes later Carl has come again and Trisha has squeezed out a second orgasm for herself. ‘I’ve been fucked in two passages and I have a job on tonight.’ She complains. ‘I’m sure you will manage.’ The circle has broken up and healing is in progress when Carl notices Shinona walking through the door wearing a brown raincoat belted at the waist which he guesses correctly she has recently bought from a charity shop. She has a green floppy hat perched on her ginger hair for it is raining outside. ‘Healing is no miracle cure, a universal panacea but people can and do get better.’ Carl is talking to an elderly gentleman who is hoping for some relief from his arthritis. ‘I’ll ask Mary to give you healing when she is free.’ Shinona has removed her coat and hat and is now attired in a long blue denim skirt and a tight fitting faded purple top with some squiggles of design on the front. Carl is keen to examine the design in more detail and turns towards her and is pleased to see her heading his way. ‘What a bloody day I’ve had. Excuse my Dutch. I‘m really wound up. Any chance of

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you giving me healing.’ ‘Of course. There is a couch free now. Let’s go.’ Thirty minutes later as Shinona is sitting up he asks her how she feels. ‘Much better now. My head is more together now.’ ‘Good. Fancy a cup of tea?’ Sitting at the long table Carl plays his opening gambit. ‘Let me guess your musical tastes. Heavy rock music. Led Zeppelin. Ten Years After. Def Leppard. Iron Maiden. Motley Crew. And a few contemporary bands. The Red Hot Chili Peppers perhaps. Am I right?’ ‘Mmm. Yeah. Spot on. Am I that obvious? Have you been looking through my cd collection?’ ‘Just a guess. I was wondering if you fancied going out with me tomorrow night?’ ‘What on a date?’ ‘There’s a Led Zepp tribute band playing at the Dark Angel Cabaret Bar tomorrow night if you are interested. If you are not interested I’ll probably spend the evening watching tv home alone dunking my bourbon biscuits into my hot chocolate. What do you say?’ ‘I’m knocked out. I never dreamed you would ask me out. I thought that you were like unapproachable.’ ‘Like a God, I know. When I drive out into rural areas the natives still thrust ploughmans lunches at me and offer their virgin daughters to me for sacrifice. It's quite bizarre. Can you arrange babysitting?’ ‘Hopefully. I have some good neighbours. Clyde can probably sleepover with one of them that have kids.’ ‘Tell me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight.’ The band tune up their instruments at nine but are not due to start their set till half past. Carl and Shinona sit at a table at the side of the room halfway between stage and bar drinking pints of Stellar, puffing surreptitiously on a one-skinner and chatting. All the seating is taken and there are a few people sitting and where they can standing at the bar. ‘Did I tell you that you look very attractive tonight.’ Carl asks as he leans on the table supporting his chin on his hand gazing into Shinona’s green eyes.’ She is wearing a black blouse and a light coloured plaid skirt. ‘People say I look like Janis Joplin.’ ‘You do. Who do people who don’t know her think you look like? Poses Carl as he sits back. ‘Barbara Streisand without the nose.’ ‘Green eyes are very effective. Mystical. So are you. You’re a Pisces right?’ ‘That’s right. You are into astrology as well. We have a lot in common.’ ‘I only use it for character profiling. It is useful in my line of work. My calling.’ ‘What kind of person am I then?’ She challenges. ‘A dreamy person. Sensitive and mystical. A builder of castles in the air. A little on the trippy side. You could have a problem with alcohol.’ ‘I wont be having more than six pints tonight.’ ‘No problem then.’ Mentally shrugging.

‘There is a guy at the bar who keeps looking at you. The guy with the spiky hair at the end sitting on a stool. He‘s talking to the barman now. I think he fancies you.’ Shinona announces. Carl turns his head to scan the length of the bar and sees a young man with spiky blonde hair wearing a white t-shirt and baggy blue jeans acting as if he is cool and relaxed. ‘That’s either Clive or his doppelganger. Be back in a minute.’ ''Quite a metamorphosis Clive. How are you doing?' Carl offers his hand that Clive takes and shakes. 'I'm a well.' He is a little uncomfortable. ‘No I am brilliant really.’ He gushes, as his feelings animate his face. ‘I always had confidence in you. Whose the lucky man, or woman?’ Carl remains standing and is aware of the Kazakhstani barman hovering nearby, from a distance of twelve inches. ‘Two pints of Stellar mate. You? And a bottle of Budweiser.’ ‘Yevgeniy.’ ‘What?’ ‘His name is Yevgeniy. He’s my boyfriend.’ ‘The barman? How’s his English?’ ‘We don’t talk much.’ Clive has a quick paranoid scan of the room. ‘He calls me his bitch. He has an enormous thingy and I have a job to .’ ‘You don’t need to go into details Clive. I am glad that you are getting your act together. Go for it.’ Carl interrupts. ‘Here’s your drink. Right. Enjoy.’ Yevgeniy grins broadly as Carl hands him a ten pound note. ‘Keep the change.’ Thirty pound two hours and twenty minutes later Carl can honestly admit to himself that he is curious to know the colour of Shinona’s pubic hair. Carl pulls up outside a house in Walpole Road. ‘Here we are then Shinona.’ ‘Clyde is sleeping over so I don’t have to worry about him.' ‘I’m still wide awake. I need something else.’ He picks up the cue and leans over to kiss her but she kisses him first. ‘I’ll come in for awhile.’ Carl gallantly offers. ‘Do you want a cup of rosehip tea?’ She jokes as she puts the kettle on. ‘Only joking. I’ve no alcohol but I’ve coffee but no milk or sugar.’ ‘However it comes.’ Carl mentally inventories her abode. Basically a large room with a double and a single bed, a curtained partitioned-off kitchen area, a wooden armchair in brown with cushion adorned with several cigarette burns, a double wardrobe with hinge falling off, a chest of drawers with several framed photos and the 'serenity prayer' thereon, a twenty inch television a cd/cassette/radio player with a formidable display of lights, buttons and knobs and an inexpensive mountain bike. Faded big flowered wallpaper clings to the walls grimly and failing at the damp patches under the ceiling along the wall with the window which looks out onto the street. ‘If I lean out the window I can cadge a fag off someone walking by.’ Shinona says thinking his thought for him as she sets down the mugs on the coffee table, rescued from

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the battlefield of Balaclava, next to the double bed. ‘The only place to sit is on the bed.’ She explains. ‘I’m trying to get on the housing waiting list but it is hard as I don’t come from here. There is no point in us moving someplace else equally bad cos then the council wont want to know. If you are too independent, you know.’ ’This is awful coffee. I’d rather kiss you instead.’ He pushes her back onto the bed. ‘Hold on. Let me put some music on. ‘I like some physical graffiti whilst I’m screwing.’ She announces. 'More Led Zepp. You are a glutton.' They lie on the bed together. 'I like screwing to 'Kashmir'. I always get a good orgasm with that one.' They kiss. He fondles her and is gratified to feel a goodly handful though slightly surprised by her underarm tufts of hair. Removed of blouse and bra her big nippled speckled breasts receive five minutes of dedicated sucking and nibbling before his left hand brushingly glides over her abdomen, politely pauses at her navel, continues to the waistband of her skirt and encounters the raised tissue of a possible caesarian or shark attack, undoes the waistband button and slips his hand into her white knickers to feel her furry minge. 'Stop Carl. Wait a minute.' 'What?' 'Let's just lie here for awhile together, holding each other.' 'Ok. You hold me whilst I go to the loo. Where is the loo?' 'Up the top of the stairs. The green flakey door with the 'here be dragons' sign on it. You have to pull the chain three times before it will flush.' Carl divests himself of his clothes prior to joining Shinona under the duvet. 'It's little smelly around here. I'm sure she does her best though.' He concedes reluctantly. Images of numerous apartments, derelict houses, squats, bare floors, unwashed dishes, overflowing trash bags, unmade beds, music and manifestos, the naked and the unwashed conjure themselves from a substrata of his consciousness. She is laying on her side facing him so he moves up close to her, puts his arm over her, her breasts pushing up against his chest. His semi though soon to be erect cock feels the roughness of her wirey ginger hairs. 'My clit is very sensitive so best not touch till I am all fired-up.' Shinona cautions then kisses him and lifts her right leg up to allow him access rights. The knock on the door freezes any further movement. Another knock and a shouted but muffled voice. 'Shinona. Shinona.' 'Bugger. That's Edie.' Reluctantly she climbs out of bed, turns down the music and goes to the door. Carl enjoys her back view in those few seconds she is naked in view. She opens the door a crack. 'Edie what is it?' 'Clyde's been sick. You have to come and get him.' 'Ok Edie I'll be up in a minute.' 'Sorry Clive I have to get my boy. He's probably been eating too much and projectile vomiting. You can stay where you are though.' She says pulling a long t-shirt over her head. 'I think I should go. I would rather not sleep with you tonight.' Ten minutes later she returns holding a small angelic-looking light coffee coloured boy

in his soiled underwear. Carl is dressed and ready to go. 'Don't go yet. You roll one up and I'll get him washed and ready for bed.' Carl's phone vibrates in his pocket so he takes it out and sees by the screen that it is Trisha trying to reach him. He turns the phone off. 'Client?' Asks Shinona. 'A stalker.' He replies. The boy drifts off and Shinona recounts depressing anecdotes from her troubled childhood and colourful anecdotes from her aspirationally frustrated adulthood. 'Let's go for a little walk.' She suggests pulling her raincoat on and slipping into a pair of trainers. 'There's a park over the road. With swings and roundabouts.' She elaborates. 'And a slide?' 'A lovely slide.' Despite the light rain Shinona has her legs and raincoat wide open, her t-shirt up under her chin and is laying at an angle of thirty five degree from the horizontal with her hands above her head clutching at the rims of the slide. And loving it. Feet astride the slide Carl rolls a tit in the palm of each hand and fucks her with great ardour. ‘My clit. my clit. Put your finger on my clit.’ She calls out an instruction. Carl starts coming, pump, pumping it out. Her tits quiver with each inward stroke. ‘I’m coming. I’m coming. I can’t, I can’t. Hold. On. Much. Longer. Ahhhhhhhhh’ She growls lets go and slides slowly down the slide till her mouth is level with the tip of his cock. ‘Give it a lick. You know you want to.’ Chapter 22: ‘Thank you for that introduction Jane. Good morning everyone. Stewart has asked me to talk on the subject of love which I know nothing about so instead I would like to share some thoughts with you on the subject of gratitude which he knows nothing about.’ A ripple of good humour ripples through the congregation. A loud baying laugh from the rear of the hall turns a few heads. ‘Thank you Nelson but it wasn’t that funny. Would someone like to give me a definition of gratitude. Deborah. Being thankful. Thank you. We say the words a great deal during the day, every day probably but do we mean it or are they just empty words. They are only empty words if there is no feeling there. What is so especial about feeling? Feelings are what connect us to each other, to the world outside ourselves and to ourselves. We express ourselves through our emotions. "Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others." This is from Cicero the Roman chap who lived over two thousands years ago and he wasn't writing this for us but for his contemporaries. What was true then is true now. Seneca thought that "Nothing is more honourable than a grateful heart." On the other hand however that well-known bon vivant, raconteur and philanthropist

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Joseph Stalin is quoted as saying "Gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs." Virtue or sickness? You chose. I am sure that most of us take for granted our family, friends, health, standard of living and only consider how lucky we are when our complacency is shaken in some way. That is natural enough. We all take things for granted. So why am I telling you things you already know? No heckling please. It has been said that gratitude is the best attitude but not just from a moralistic, humanistic perspective but also from that of one's own physical health, mental and spiritual well-being. In an article in the Miami Herald recently a researcher at the local university, Dr. Michael McCullough, is quoted as saying that "the most grateful people tend to be the happiest" and "most grateful people have low rates of depression and negative moods -- but high self-esteem." Is there anyone here who has come into some good fortune recently, stand up and give thanks to the abundant universe.' Several people in the front row attempt to rise. 'You don't have to stand Jessie or you Long John.' 'I won ten pound on the lottery.' Announces Jessie, a large elderly lady with varicose veins. 'I have been promoted at work.' Calls out a smart looking young woman standing near the back. 'Excellent. "When eating bamboo sprouts, remember the man who planted them." Chinese Proverb. There will now be a collection to help with the upkeep of the centre. Give generously. Give with gratitude. I'll end by quoting Melody Beattie and I hope she doesn't mind. "Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow." Namaste.' After hanging around to chat at the end of the meeting Carl and the smart looking young woman go for lunch in a pub next to a babbling brook in Fordinbridge. Having returned her to her car outside the Centre he drives home in time to answer the phone. 'Hullo Doug. I just got in.' He carries the phone with him as he makes his way upstairs. 'We should do that again sometime.' 'Do what Doug?' 'You me and Trisha. You know. Jiga jig.' Carl goes into the bathroom. 'Hold on.' He pulls down his trousers and shorts and sits on the bog. 'You have changed your mind. What has brought this on?' 'I over-reacted.' 'Blow can do that.' 'Would she do it again?' 'She would do it to please me if I asked her. Probably. What have you in mind?' 'I haven't anything specific.' 'Bullshit. What scenarios have been you been fantasising over?' 'I was thinking we could turn it into a competition.' 'You mean a wager? Who comes first wins. Or loses.'

'Have you just farted? I can smell it from here. Yeah. Some rules and conditions and prize money. A ton.' 'Make it two. Hang on I'm putting the phone down. Continuez s'il vous plaît.' He straightens his clothes and opens a window. 'The one of us who comes the most in a given time wins.' 'You or I might cheat. Fake an orgasm.' 'It would be fun though.' 'I don't think so. I've built up a relationship with her the past few days. It would be too much like using her. Treating her like a chattel. A sex slave.' 'Yeah that could be a problem.' He muses wistfully. 'How is your sex life?' Doug enquires. 'Good. I seem to be coming out of whatever has been ailing me.' 'I didn't know you were ill.' 'It wasn't physical.' 'Right.' "Nobody realizes that some people expend a tremendous amount of energy merely to be normal." said Camus, the French existentialist comic book super hero. 'You are right there. You can learn a lot from comics.' 'I do. I am self-taught. Everything I know I have leant from them.' 'Nice talking to you Douglas but I have to go. I am popping round to see Trisha. She wants me to change a fuse. Ciao.' 'So that's how it's done. Your hair-drier is fully operational again as so demonstrated. The two bed bed in a state of disarray behind him is the image that fills most of the large mirror on the dressing table. One quarter of the mirror on the right is occupied by the figure of Trisha dressed in purple slacks and a yellow blouse tied up loosely in the front from which her tits are attempting to escape. 'That is really interesting, I don't think.' 'What up with you flower?' He asks turning towards her and stroking the side of her face. 'I'm stony broke. I had to pay a months rent. Can you lend me fifty quid?' 'Why are you slobbing around Trisha? Look at you.' 'I'm fed up. I have nothing to do and I miss Donna.' She responds sullenly. 'If you want a job I can probably help you out.' 'How?' 'A friend of mine would appreciate your services.' 'Not Doug. I would be too embarrassed.' 'Someone else. I'll give him a ring shall I?' 'How much would he give me?' 'Give him an oily massage in your underwear, sit on his face, wank him and give him a blow job and he will give you a ton and you'll probably be out in an hour.' 'Are you managing me now?' 'Just looking after your interests. If asked me that before.' Carl moves away from Trisha, across the bedroom to the door and out onto the landing. 'Hello Stewart. I'm fine. I have a friend who will come round and polish your dick if she is paid handsomely. Yes she is a nice friend. Trisha. That's the one. Seven o clock. Of course you must not have your Ovaltine too late or miss the news on the World Service.

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Einverstanden. Ciao.' He returns to the bedroom where he finds Trisha laying naked with her right hand between her thighs and her left clutching her right breast. 'You're on stage at seven.' He reports. 'Just to get me in the harlot mood you best give me a good seeing-to.' She invites lasciviously. 'An orchid ready to be plucked.' Carl commends as he smoothly strips out of his clothing. The ansaphone is flashing red but Carl ignores it and flops down on the settee in the living room and searches for a pop music channel to fill a vacant space in his mind. The phone rings and he answers it. 'Carl it's me Cathy.' A little nervousness in her voice. 'So. You are back.' Carl is cool. 'Yes. How have you been?' 'It has been a quiet time and I have been fed up. I have been missing you terribly.' 'Really. I find that hard to believe.' 'How little you know me Cathy. I keep my pain inside, my emotions hidden from view.' 'I know and that is part of the problem.' 'Abi says you went away. Where did you go, somewhere exciting?' A note of cynicism taints his friendly voice. 'It was yes. Paris.' 'Oh. Alone?' 'Um no. Carl we need to talk face to face. I don't know what you are really thinking on the phone. Not that I really, um. We should meet somewhere.' 'A summit meeting is it? Shall I bring my lawyer?' 'You are being facetious.' 'I know.' 'Can you meet me tomorrow?' 'Come around here.' 'No. I would rather us meet somewhere neutral. In a public place.' 'Now you are being facetious.' 'I want us to talk seriously without you dragging me into bed.' 'Ok. When and where?' 'Here we are. Two glasses of the house white.' Carl places a glass in front of Cathy then sits down. 'I want to break free' plays over the speakers. 'You are looking well. Fuller, one might say. Otherwise it is you.' Cathy is wearing a blue polo-neck sweater and chinos. He wears a dark blue jacket and grey slacks. 'You look much the same. Conceitedly so.' 'Come come Cathy. Drink your wine and mellow. It should be me on the attack not you.' He lights a cigarette, inhales and expels the smoke in a stream directed at Cathy. She dodges it. 'I don't have to explain to you Carl.' 'I think you do. You think you do. I'll make it easy for you, oh mother of my unborn child.' 'That is below the belt.'

'It seems that there has been a lot happening below the belt. So you went to Paris with a secret lover. Have you been sick at all?' 'Sick? Morning sickness. A few times. Why?' 'Because I care about you Cathy.' He reaches a hand across the table and clasps her hand in his accompanied by a big smile. 'I suppose we had better get this out of the way or we wont really accomplish anything. His name is Fabian and I met him at my dance class. I have never been out with him except for a drink a couple of times after class. He is good looking in an Italian way.' 'An Italian stud is he?' He jokingly sneers. 'I can fancy other men without having to sleep with them.' She drains her glass. 'More.' She demands sticking out her glass in hand. 'I do love you Cathy.' He affirms as he walks away from the table to bar. 'Where were you. In Paris with the gigolo. Is he a good dancer?' 'You mean is he good in bed. No Carl he is not as good as you. He isn’t and never was a threat to you. The only threat to you is yourself. You said to me that as it was early I wasn't really pregnant that it was barely a foetus let alone a baby.' 'I'll think about that threat bit when I have a few spare hours. You just happened to bump into him in Tesco and instantly decided to elope together?' 'More or less. It is not important. We went away and had a nice time together and yes we had sex. It would have been rude not to.' 'I have never doubted that the baby is mine till now. How can I trust you?' 'Carl. We broke up remember after you were so awful to me. You broke my heart you bastard. I slept with him but I am in love with you. That should mean something to you.' 'It does. The question now is do you want this baby.' 'Do you?' 'I have thought about it Cathy and the answer is yes?' 'Do you want me? You and I living as a couple?' 'We can give it a try. You can move in slowly.' 'I understand your reticence, I do. You are going to be a dad whatever. I have to go. Abi and I are meeting up for lunch.’ ‘She will be putting me down in particular and men in general.’ ‘She is on your side. She thinks I am too boring for you and that you will get tired of me after a few months.’ ‘I am surprised she thinks that. You are not boring Cathy just a little uptight.’ ‘Like a woman with a cactus up her arse, is how my mother described me.’ ‘Quite a bitch is Abi.’ ‘Never have a mother who only thinks she’s a celebrity.’ ‘I think you have time to go for a little walk Cathy.' 'What do you mean? We can go for a walk anytime.' 'I miss your ministrations my darling. Whilst you've been getting an Italian salami up you I've been as celibate as, well.' He tapers off and looks her meaningfully in the eyes. 'You owe me Cathy.' 'It will have to be quick. Where?' Five minutes later Carl takes off his jacket and spreads it across his crotch and thighs. Sitting on a bench by the steps halfway up the densely foliaged hill that overlooks the

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graveyard and the back of St Peter's church on this pleasant sunny afternoon Cathy slips her hand beneath the jacket and fumbles with his trousers zip. 'Where is it? Mmm. Stiff already. Underwear is a nuisance. That’s better.’ She masturbates him with her fist. Carl leans back thrusting out his legs. ‘Did Fabian make you come?’ He asks nonchalantly. ‘Carl don’t.’ ‘Did he fuck you to orgasm? Tell me.’ Carl’s cock swells with excitation. ‘Yes he did. But first he licked me all over.’ Carl groans and Cathy grips him harder. ‘Tell me more.’ ‘He fucked me three times the first day and four times the second. He had a big fat cock and I can still feel him inside of me.’ She whispers huskily in his ear. ‘Faster faster.’ He urges insistently. ‘If I go any harder and faster my arm will fall off.’ She protests. Cathy looks down along the path, to the back of the church and can see no one around so she pulls away the jacket and grasps the end of his cock firmly in her lips. ‘Ooh yeah.’ Carl moans appreciatively stroking her hair as he jerks s once twice three times swiftly and six more times at a slower pace.’ She swallows it down. ‘You cannot beat English spunk. I must get my scrotum stamped with a seal of approval.’ ‘It’s certainly creamy.’ Cathy sits up. ‘I must go. Mother will be furious.’ ‘Come round about eight tomorrow night with a good appetite. Bring your toothbrush.’ Carl zips himself up before standing. He is changing all the bedding to black when he hears the postman apparently attempting to jerry the letterbox off the front door. He goes down the stairs to investigate and sees a solitary white envelope on the mat which he bends to pick up and extricates the content. 'A card. It is too early for my birthday. Ah.' The card has a picture on the front of a night sky, dark blue with a non-radiant moon and one shining star. The foreground is a black rise, in silhouette can be seen the hermit tarot card figure; a robed, cloaked and hooded bearded man with a staff in one hand and holding a lantern up in the other. 'Nice.' He opens the card which contains a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley. He reads. "Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?" 'Let me share your journey. Love you. Cathy.' 'That Percy had a way with words. The sometime punk poet of Bournemouth and exponent of progressive rock. What the name of that band he played organ with? Thank you Cath. I had better go to the supermarket and buy the makings of dinner.'

'Sorry Trish, I have other plans.' 'Never mind. I can wash my hair.' 'Pop out and get a video. A porno movie.' 'I have enough porn in real life thanks. Your friend was happy when I left him. He is a sweetie. He wants me to visit him again.' 'I am pleased for you. Why don't you sign up for a college course, adult education class or something.' 'I'm too thick to study.' 'It is a matter of applying yourself. A child care diploma. You could mind children by day and men by night.' 'Stop teasing. I am booked to escort a woman to a casino tomorrow night. I'll make sure I have a dildo in my handbag. Just in case.' 'Be prepared. Make sure she buys you chips.' 'I don't think we are eating.' 'I'd love to talk to you more Trish but I wont. I'll ring you some time this week.' 'Are you going away?' 'Probably.' The back part of the open plan living room, overlooking the rear garden, is the area where Carl has now set up the highly polished, but not by him, mahogany table with accompanying dining room chairs. A small vase with a blooming white rose is set in the middle of the table between the carafe of water, bottle of wine, glasses, a candle and condiments. Raffia place mats from Oxfam are in situ. There is a large archway from this section of the house to the kitchen where he is busy frying up two large Aberdeen Angus rump steaks whilst the mushrooms and chunky oven chips are being kept warm in the oven and the mixed salad waits on the side. Cathy bangs the door with the brass knocker and Carl lets her in. 'Something smells good.' She remarks sniffing the air and removing her khaki car-coat. 'Wow. You look stunning. I don't think I have seen you in lipstick before this night. My virgin queen. Well you were. Now you need rehabilitating?' 'That was a compliment wasn't it? Abi dressed and made me up for you.' Cathy is wearing a tight-fitting low-cut black dress which, what with her enlarged breasts, gives her a respectable amount of cleavage, a black shawl over her shoulders and black heels. 'Come on. Dinner is served Madame. Though a glass of wine first I think. I'll turn down the heat.' 'How's the steak?' Carl asks twenty minutes later. 'Very tender. If I move in here with you I can sell my house.' 'And give it to me. It could be your dowry.' 'You would have to promise to marry me.' 'I could, we could move from here. I could do with a change.' Thirty minutes later Cathy says. 'What is your attitude towards women? No don't answer. I know you need a woman who is sexually available to you. I'll be here in my office whenever you need me. I'm available now.' 'Ooh presents.' exclaims Cathy happily tipsy.

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'They are all for you and I hope you are for all.' 'Oh that is gorgeous.' She laughs with delight as she holds up an ornate basque in gold. 'I'll take a walk for ten minutes whilst you try the stuff on then you can surprise me.' He stands on the front doorstep with the door ajar smoking a cigarette, listening to the sounds of the night. All quiet on the urban front. 'Where do magpies kip at night? What is the effect on the environment and ecology of squirrels if they are no longer hibernating? No, it is no good. This is serious. Decisions have to be made. Commitments have to be forged. Tonight will be a watershed. I could scarper now. Why runaway. I could throw her out and lose her and carry on as I am. But no. It is a zen thing. Go with the flow. Honey I'm home.' He flicks the butt under the car turns and walks in. 'You look fantastic.' 'I do don't I.' 'Pregnancy becomes you. Give me a twirl.' She is attired in bra, garter belt, thong and stockings and poses briefly before shyness displaces her desire to be desired. Carl considers himself an expert in the art of cunnilingus so it is not long before his face is to be found between Cathy's thighs. Pulling her thong to the side has not been practical so he has removed it for her. She moans appreciatively. He will bring her to orgasm though with his cock in her cunt, he has decided. He raises himself up and lies over her and no-handed pushes into her. She gasps. 'I love you. I am yours. Do what you want with me.' She whispers to him sincere and needy. They are moving as one; the two-backed beast; a rolling wave with an excited volcano beneath the surface. 'This is so good.' Comments Carl as he rides her slowly. 'I want you to Churn me.' Sitting on her with her legs up high he thrusts down and looks at her sweaty animated face. 'Open your eyes. I want you to look me in the eyes when I come inside you.' He goes faster for a hundred strokes then changes to the missionary position so their breath is intermingling as he shoots his load. 'Mind our baby. I'm coming. I'm coming. God I'm coming.' She cries looking into his eyes as he grimaces with exertion and she feels the wetness infuse her with his life force. Carl places the tray on the bed and sits next to Cathy. 'What is all that?' She asks. 'Two dishes, two dessert spoons, one tablespoon and four large cartons of ice cream . We have Chocolate Fudge Brownie, Cherry Garcia, Cookie Dough and Chunky Monkey. Help yourself.' She does and he does. 'I love ice cream.' She murmurs. 'How about you.' She allows a spoonful to drop onto his stomach. 'I love it.' She leans over to lick the piece as it melts, several rivulets dribble from his navel. Her tongue travels to his flaccid penis laying to the right.

'You like your cock on the right and your woman on the right don't you.' 'I haven't noticed. That's cold. Take the bra off. ' She spoons ice-cream onto him and licks his wet, flavoured dick and bollocks. He is once again standing at attention. 'More ice-cream I'm getting dry.' He requests five minutes later. 'Sit on my cock.' Three minutes later. 'Bend over.' Six minutes on. Short, sharp strokes, thrusting in the kneeling position, holding her hips he pulls her back onto him, pull and thrust, pull and thrust. She buries her face in the duvet to stop herself screaming in pleasure. She feels him tense, his muscles rigid as if from some great unfathomable depth he releases an earth-shattering energy that will surely tear her apart. 'You really needed that. You've missed me in that way.' She comments minutes later as she rests her head on his stomach. 'Cathy.' She listens to his rumblings. 'What?' 'Will you marry me?' 'What?' She sits up dreamily. 'Will you marry me my virgin queen?' 'I don't believe it. That would make me so happy. Yes I will.' 'It will have to be abroad on a sunny beach somewhere.' 'What about my family and friends?' 'They can make their own way.' 'Just like that?' 'Just like that.' Wednesday morning Cathy is high, floating on a cloud of fluffy pink and billowing white as she pops four pieces of bread into the toaster. She is naked beneath the royal blue bathrobe she has borrowed from Carl. It trails along the floor and the sleeves are rolled back. She hears him whistling before he makes an entrance in shorts and t-shirt. 'You'll have to get a pair of pyjamas if we are going to be man and wife.' She smiles and kisses him. He sits down at the table whilst she turns on the kettle. 'Is there any orange juice?' 'I'll look.' She opens the fridge and takes out a carton and pours him a glass full. 'I fancy two hard boiled eggs.' He stretches and yawns. 'I've given you an appetite.' 'See if there are any bagels in the freezer Cath.' He takes a large gulp of juice. 'I'm doing toast.' 'That will be fine.' 'Tea?' 'Please.' 'There is no milk.' 'I'll go and get some.' He stands up and sneaks behind her and clasps his hands around her and onto her breasts. 'Carl, the toast.' She turns to face him and he pulls open the gown.

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'Mmm. What a nice sight.' He puts his left arm around her and with his right hand rubs her vulva. 'Carl, I haven't washed yet.' 'I don't mind.' 'I do.' 'Don't wash. I want you to feel me inside you all day.' 'I already feel you inside me.' 'I'll go to the shop. Remind me to give you a key.' Having slipped on sweatshirt, jogging trousers and trainers Carl steps out of the door onto the drive skirts the car and is confronted by two men standing across his exit., blocking his path. 'Good morning. Can I help you guys?' The big bald over-weight man wearing a tight 'never mind the bollocks' t-shirt over his wide chest and bulging biceps smiles unpleasantly, it seems to Carl, his hands in the pockets of his black jogging trousers. 'About forty five and works out regularly. He looks familiar. Perhaps I've seen him on Crimewatch.' Thinks Carl. 'What of his pal. Early thirties. Expensive haircut in the Elvis style which draws attention to his puffy, acneed face and small piggy eyes. Takes time with his appearance. Italian handmade shoes, pointed and brown, nice suit, open collar. Two chunky rings on each hand, a ring in his right earlobe. Acne doesn't visit the gym but has a fast metabolism. He flicks her cigarette butt onto the lawn. Carl starts to get nervous. 'You are Mr Langdon? Carl Langdon?' 'Yes. What can I do you for?' His attention is drawn to a car parked across the road. A blue Lexus. The ringing of his alarm bell is cut short by a left hooked armoured fist that connects with the side of his head above the ear thrown by Slim. He karooms into the boot of the car banging his head and back and lies in a heap confused and in pain. 'Go on then, hurt him.' Acne orders the Big Guy who steps forward and kicks Carl on the leg swiftly followed by a blow to the chest. From the back of his waistband he produces a baseball bat. 'Hurt him.' Demands Acne exasperated. 'Where?' Asks the Big Guy. 'Break his arm. Any fucking arm.' At this point Carl loses consciousness. Chapter 23: Carl comes to, opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. A brightly lit private hospital room. He is laying in the bed with his right arm in a cast resting in a sling suspended from a device attached to the wall, a bandage around his head, his chest tightly taped wearing only his boxers. He feels groggy and has a dry mouth. 'Nurse.' He calls out and a few seconds later the door is opened. 'How are you feeling Mr Langdon? Does it hurt?' Asks the pretty white nurse standing by his bed on his left.

'Only when I breath?' 'Do you know your name?' She has a melodius voice that he finds attractive. 'You just told me my name. How long have I been here and what's happened to me?' 'You have suffered concussion, a broken arm and a cracked rib plus sundry bruises. You came in yesterday. Your broken bone has been reset and put in a cast. The cut on your head has been stitched up. Your chest is taped up and you are on painkillers. You were attacked. Don't you remember?' 'Did a large blue whale drop on me from the sky?' 'I hardly thinks that's likely. I'll go and get the doctor.' 'Hold on. I am remembering now. The Montrose blue. I'd rather you fetched me a cup of tea.' 'You were assaulted by a jealous boyfriend apparently.' 'How do you know?' Surprised. 'There was a post-it stuck to your forehead.' 'My work can be dangerous.' 'What do you do love?' 'I'm a psychotherapist and Healer.' 'Oh my sister went to see one of those to help quit smoking.' 'Really. Did it work?' Carl has a little yawn. 'She gave up smoking alright but now she is on anti-depressants.' 'Self-improvements not always what its cracked up to be. Will I be able to play the violin again?' 'I'm sure you will but not for a few months. I'll get you a cup of tea, and the doctor. Carl wakes up and takes in his surroundings. 'I'm still here then.' The door open and a coloured nurse enters the room. 'It's Ann looking resplendent in her uniform. What are you doing here?' 'This is a hospital and I am a nurse.' She gives him a peck on the cheek. 'I know, sassy. How do you know I am here?' 'That's easy. You are the talk of the hospital. A post-it stuck to your forehead. Haha. Have the police been to see you yet? I expect they will have to interview hundreds of suspects.' 'Haha.' Carl is not amused. 'Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?' 'Mmm. You could give me a wank. I always find a good orgasm helps with pain management and the recuperation process.' 'You haven't lost the use of both hands. Alright. Give it here.' She unbuttons his shorts and extricates his engorging prick. 'You could have booked me into the Royal Bath at least.' 'That's a hotel. When people get beaten up they go to A and E not to a room with a seaview.' Protests Cathy sitting on the bed. 'You're right. What was I thinking.' 'How is your head. I think that blow has effected you. You're pants look wet do you want me to give you a bed bath?' 'Leave it for now. Before you leave.'

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The Epilogue Chapter 1: 'Oh my darling Carl how I do love you. Soooooo much-a,' she cries out before smothering him desperately with wet kisses as she thrusts down weightily and rapidly onto Carl's steely prick. He sits in a loose lotus position, gripping her buttocks as she sits in his lap with her arms around him, thrusting into her tight cunt. He brings up his left hand and eases it between their sweating bodies and fondles her breast. Inwardly he smiles as he appreciates its fullness. 'A dozen extra pounds or so have filled her out nicely' he thinks. It is all pluses with her except for the minor matter of her scar about 20cm across the lower abdomen With a tit in one hand and a buttock in the other he pushes against gravity and white washes her yearning cunt with his viscous spunk. 'Uh. Uh I'm nearly there.' 'Cathy. Cathy' calls a female voice followed my several hard knocks on the door. 'Shit. Just a minute. Just a minute' replies a flustered Cathy as she raises herself off Carl's dripping cock and quickly slips into her nightdress. 'You don't want to talk to the hired help with spunk dripping down your legs. Give yourself a wipe. Alina can wait.' Cathy goes into the bathroom and wipes between her legs then strides purposefully to the door. 'Bring up a cup of tea Honey Bunch when you have finished with whatever. ' Calls out Carl as he jumps off the king sized bed stretches hands over head then brings them down to his toes several times. 'Yes. I feel good. Urh.' He walks into the en-suite bathroom and takes a long leisurely piss. 'Life is good.' He smiles appreciatively whilst attempting to sink a wad of tissue paper floating in the toilet bowl. Carl Langdon, aged 31, five ten tall and one fifty pounds heavy has short dark brown hair, hazel eyes, gaunt features and light physique. He is a self-employed Psychotherapist, Healer, Proprietor of the Vermillion Escort Agency and family man. Cathy, 26, his wife and mother of their two baby daughters, Mia aged 14 months old and Poppy a mere two months, both born of May 11th, is a very busy lady tending to the babies, granting Carl's wishes, running the house and keeping the books for a variety of small businesses. She is very well organised, business like even, ebullient whether it is changing a nappy, balancing the books or giving her man a blowjob. Somewhat of a revelation and constant surprise to Carl who realises he always underestimated her when he was merely dating her. Of course he takes the credit for nurturing her into bloom. Having taken a shower Carl stands dripping by the bedroom window overlooking the back garden and not for the first time reminds himself to call a tree surgeon to lop the tops off 'those damned leylandi' that seem intent on swallowing the sky. Or just hire

a chainsaw himself. The cobalt blue Delphiniums, Anchusa, Cornflowers, Nemesia and Shoo-fly plants nurtured by Cathy provide an oasis of blue in all the greenery. Whilst he was recuperating from his injuries following the attack on his person he had come to the surprising conclusion that he and Cathy should live together and to his astonishment go so far as to get married. Soon after the Spiritualist wedding ceremony and honeymoon hill-walking in north Wales they had bought this 4 bedroom property in a pleasant residential area a mile or so from Carl's old bachelor house. Apart from his therapy room and adjoining office downstairs he sometimes feel he is living on the set of an under fives make believe house having allowed Cathy to decorate and furnish the house as she wishes. A profusion of yellows, blues and greens run rampart in the master bedroom, the au pairs room, the nursery and Cathy's small office. Downstairs is more subdued; the leather sofa and armchairs being a deep rich brown in the lounge area and the Welsh Dresser and work surfaces in juxtaposition in the kitchen complementing the heavy oak table. 'Oh well. What is on the agenda today?' questions Carl.

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'I am going to count you up from one to ten in a moment Josie and when I click my fingers you will be wide awake feeling calm and confident knowing you will do all that is required of you to pass your driving test this afternoon. You are pleased and excited about this new challenge and accept it readily. Vigilance rather than nervousness is your buzzword. One, two, three, waking up now, four, five, becoming more alert, six, seven, eyes beginning to open, eight, nine, eyes open, ten and wide awake.' Click. Josie, a rather plain but pleasant eighteen year old blinks her eyes several times, takes a deep breath and beams at Carl. 'Thank you.' 'You'll be fine.' assures Carl standing up. She stands erect, dives a hand into a large bag and withdraws thirty pounds. 'Good luck' he offers as he guides her from the room into the hallway that leads to the door servicing this part of the house. 'Mind the honeysuckle' he calls out. 'What? 'Bees. The bees.' 'Oh right.' Carl about turns and walks through the nursery space where Alina is playing with Mia. 'Mr Carl. Mr Carl' she calls out rising from her knees with Mia in her arms. Alina is an attractive big bosomed, wide hipped twenty three year old from Krakow with corn-coloured hair normally tied back in a ponytail. Cathy considers her to be lazy and not too bright whilst Carl knows that she is an intelligent wily woman good for the occasional shag which is why he hired her in the first place. 'Phone call Mr Carl. Mr Freddy say you call him. Ok!' 'Ok. Thanks. Where's Cathy?' 'Cathy take a shower.' 'Poppy?' 'On your bed I asleep I think.' 'Go and check and take Mia with you.' 'I'll be in the office.' 'Freddy. It's Carl. You wanted to speak to me.' 'Yes. Yes. Rather urgently I would say. I have been doing as you requested and monitoring Vermillion's accounts weekly and the news is not good. Business is good but Tricia is syphoning money out of the account at an alarming rate. 'You are sure?' 'Unequivocally.’ 'What's the latest then.' 'She wrote out a cheque to a Mister Van Halen for fifteen hundred pounds last week and the week before that one for 'cash' in the sum of eight hundred pounds.' 'This is bad.' 'It is not my business to say so but you need to take action soon before she puts you out of business. The account is dangerously close to the red now but the business is doing well. To be precise and unambiguous she is robbing you blind.' Carl says 'It sounds like a cry for help to me. Extreme therapeutic intervention may be called for.' 'Or police intervention.'

'Now Freddy none of that talk. I'll think about it and come up with a solution.' 'I'm sure you will.' 'Do you want one of the girls sent over to run your bath for you tonight?' 'That would be, very relaxing.' 'Leave it to me. Ciao.' 'How does it feel', Christine, his therapist, asks 'to be cheating on your wife.' 'Well, I don't really think about it. It is not as if I am really being unfaithful. Women are here to serve and pleasure men and apart from procreation it is their main purpose.' 'That is a provocative statement.' 'In some societies women are held in common. A man wants a woman, he takes her. In western society people look down on women who spread their legs for anyone; the sluts and whores but they are the quintessence of what it is to be a female; the expression of the female principle and the representative here on earth of the Divine Goddess. Women are the Light of the Universe without which men would live in a perpetual darkness of emptiness and brutality.' 'So all I as a woman am is a sex object to you?' 'Don't be so tetchy. You are not under threat. All I'm saying is when you strip it down to the basics a car is a machine to get one from A to B quicker than walking or running and with less effort.' 'So what are men here for? To amuse them selves whilst they can' 'All sounds rather heretical to me to me. I think you are pulling my leg. Or tugging at my pantyhose.' 'I wouldn't dream of it.' He counters. 'You wish.' he thinks. Christine is a serious-minded, bespectacled and quite attractive lady, with her wavy brown locks, in her mid-forties, seen in a certain kind of light. Twilight. Having agreed to see a therapist at Cathy's insistence he stuck a pin in the Psychotherapist column in the Yellow Pages and landed on Christine Tweedy. BSc. BAP. BPC. A safe choice. 'We were talking about your mother.' 'Chasing the elusive Oedipus Complex.' Carl leans back in the black imitation leather swivel chair and with legs outstretched gently rocks himself with his sandalled feet. He is wearing a light weight grey shirt and faded blue denims. 'My mother was a left wing intellectual with a bohemian arty lifestyle funded by dodgy if not illegal enterprises with the amazing capacity to be screwed over by a succession of arbitrarily chosen men. That is what I think now when I am in a charitable mood. When I was growing up she was this magical and mysterious creature with an erotically charged aura; a sensual woman in an arthouse black and white European documentary style way.' She didn't dress up. She dressed down but not in a slattenly way. Or else she dressed like a French hooker. Red leather skirt, red high heel shoes and smoky black blouse. I can see her under the street light smoking a kingsize. 'Why a French prostitute? Christine asks bemused. 'This sounds like a fantasy of yours rather than a memory.' 'My mother played many roles but she was quickly bored. I wasn't brought up, I was

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dragged around. Wherever we were there was music and voices, sex, bad lighting, revolution and living art. She was fascinated by life and fascinating to those who came into her orbit. To me she was a stupid self-centred cow. But I loved her. She was all I had. I was a child and dependent on her. Sums up my attitude towards woman do you think? So yes I probably did go through a stage of wanting to have sex with her. She wasn't a mother just an older woman. But she was always to busy for me. I escaped from her circus when I was fourteen and only saw her on a couple of occasions in the intervening years before her demise. What kind of mother dies with a needle sticking out of her arm. She mistook strife for life.' 'We will have to leave it there Carl. I think we are getting to the root cause of your sex addiction.' 'Seeking the love of the mother I never had?' 'Perhaps. See you next week.' 'That's given her plenty to think about' acknowledges Carl cheerily as he opens the door. 'Good evening and welcome to Vermillion Escorts. How can I be of service?'

'This is Carl. Who am I speaking to?' 'I'm Louise.' 'Is Tricia there?' 'No she is out of the office at the moment.' 'On a job I hope. Ok. Louise. I would like you to call round to my flat and bring another girl with you.' 'When?' 'Now. Are you the Louise with the clit ring?' 'That's me.' 'Twenty minutes then.' Carl puts down the phone lights a cigarette and takes a sip of coffee whilst he watches a cat stride across the lawn. On his enclosed balcony he sees but is not seen. On numerous occasions he has sat on the balcony of number six 'Appledews' enjoying some light refreshment with his friend Stewart, alas deceased twelve months ago. Carl had not be surprised that he was the main beneficiary of Stewart's will. The apartment he had decided to keep on as somewhere to meet with his lady friends. When he and Cathy married they sold their own houses and bought the place they now live so they were comfortable. The Centre was sold as were Stewarts notes and audio cassettes inprogress autobiography. A publisher of books of New Age and Spirituality had high hopes of bringing out a best seller. Apparently Stewart had been a womaniser of some renown in the Sixties and had been involved in several high profile scandals. Sex and Spirituality always selling well. Not being overly sentimental the only item of furniture to survive the transition from his house to his flat is his three-seater dark brown leather settee and two armchairs. His Japanese bed unfortunately was deemed too small and impractical for three or four on a bed activity so was sold through the local daily. He buzzes the girls in thirty minutes later and stands at the doorway as they descend in the lift. Louise walks the corridor like she is on the way to her office via the catwalk, long black leather skirt, high heels, white blouse, bag hanging from her left. shoulder. Glossy black hair, shimmering down past her shoulders. Statuesque and standing over six feet tall in her heels. Classy. That's right. She reminds me of that Warrior Princess. What's her name. Lena? Xena! The other whom I don't know. Short red skirt, red high heels, black blouse. Short hilited blonde hair. A petite 5'8" in her heels. She looks like a, a common street prostitute. Is this is what our customers are getting. Tricia is really dragging us down hill. Hi. I remember you Louise'. Gives her a peck on the cheek. Louise smiles broadly. 'And you are?' 'Sky.' 'I haven't had the pleasure yet. Come in.' 'This is a nice place.' says Sky approvingly sitting down on the settee and feeling the leather. 'Have you been here long?' 'Awhile.' 'Go out onto the balcony quietly.' He indicates they should do so. 'There's a dog on the lawn' opines Sky.

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'No that is a fox. Look there is another. A smaller one. The cub I expect.' suggests Louise. 'They often come here in the evening. One of the residents here feeds then I believe' informs Carl. 'Go into the bedroom, first on the left, get undressed and start without me' suggests Carl. The girls do as they are bade. Carl picks up his mobile and makes a call. 'Hello Alina. Tell Cathy I will be home in an hour. Oh really. Where is she? Arh. Why didn't you go with them. Is it better now? Take a couple of paracetemol. Painkillers. Either. Got to go. Ciao.' 'She probably is put off by Trevor's eyes watching her every movement.' He goes into his bedroom to find the girls laying on his kingsize bed, naked, chins on elbows and in conversation. 'Come on girls I want to see some action.' Whilst Carl strips off Louise and Sky kneel in front of each other and start kissing and caressing each other perfunctorily. He joins them on the bed and watches for a few minutes. Both girls are well endowed though Sky is a little skinny. Each of Louise's globular breasts has a large brown areola. She has a butterfly tattoo three inches below her navel. 'Lick Louise out Sky.' She gives him a quick sullen look. 'Scooter up the bed Louise so you are half sitting up and put a pillow under your bum. Fondle her tits and suck her nipples for awhile Sky.' As Louise moves her clit ring flashes in the light from the one of the lamps. She moans in feigned pleasure whilst Sky plays with her tits but gives a little gasp as Sky inserts several fingers into her vagina. Carl kneels closer and gently pushes Sky's head down between Louise's thighs and fondles Louise's right breast. He goes from semi-erect to full blown hardon. Louise's right hand grasps his stiff cock, her well manicured fingers stroking him firmly. He pushes down on the crown of Sky's head in time to Louise's strokes. 'Um. That's nice Louise.' She moans with pleasure as Sky's tongue licks and probes. Carl stretches over to the bedside cabinet, opens a drawer and extricates a packet of three, regular. 'Take a break Sky.' he says. He hands Louise a condom and lays back against the headboard. She sits next to him. 'Suck me off darling.' He looks directly into her eyes and she returns his penetrating stare. Since the early days when Carl financed Tricia, aka Trisha, in the setting up of the escort agency he has exercised his 'Lord of the Manor' rights to have sex with any girl on the books gratis, a right that is accepted by all. However, whether he uses protection or not is mutually decided between he and the girl at the time. Although all the girls are required to visit Vermillion's retained Clap Doc once a month he still prefers to use protection. Some of the girls swallow and some don't. 'Go and get me a few ice cubes Sugar' she says to Sky who is gazing out of the window. 'What?' 'In the fridge in the kitchen.' she indicates with a shake of her head. Sky gets up off the bed and leaves the room. 'She is not too bright.' Observes Louise as she straddles his legs leaning over so her breasts slide on and over his stiff cock.

'I like you Louise.' 'I like you Carl' she responds. 'Here you are.' Sky hands Louise two ice cubes which she then pops into her mouth. 'I think you need cooling down.' taking his cock in her mouth and pushing down. 'Waaaa. That's cold.' Louise works slowly and purposefully on her servicing. 'Come closer Sky.' he instructs. 'Closer.' His left hand fondles her tits for a minutes then slides down over her shaved pubes and slips two fingers into her lubricated pussy. Melted ice trickles beneath his bollocks. Two finger fucking, then three. 'A very commodious cunt. Louise is a damned good sucker but she had better stop or I'll come.' 'Hold it Louise.' She looks up at him with a pleasant smile. 'You can have the honour of sheathing me Sky. On your hands and knees. Take a break Louise. Go and wash your fanny.' Carl stands at the bottom of the bed, guides Sky back, grips the cheeks of her arse and shoves his cock into her. 'Is that nice Sky? He grunts out. 'Ohh beautiful.' She affirms breathlessly. 'You lying bitch' thinks Carl 'but she is a pretty good performer. Ok for the low end of the market.' 'Come on baby fuck me', she whimpers huskily. Louise comes back and sits at the other end of the bed with her back to the headboard raises her knees and opens her legs wide. Carl grasps Sky's lean hips and thrusts harder and faster. Louise looks him in the eyes, puts two fingers in her mouth, wets and eases them into her vagina. Her left hand fondles her tits. 'Yes. yes' he grunts between clenched teeth. 'Ah, ah, ah' calls Sky. 'Bollocks. I never did like using a condom' he thinks 'can I be bothered to fuck this twat.' 'Hold it Honeybunch' he says pulling away. I'll lie down and you get on top of me. Louise you can sit on my face.' 'You're the boss Boss.' Sky crouches over, takes his penis in hand and guides him into her. Louise lowers herself into a straddle, her dark bushed pussy two centimetres off his nose that he might breath in the scent of her. 'Mmm. My expensive, specially imported, made in Polynesia, purple viscous liquid soap with a scent of blueberries, mango and the merest hint of coconut. ' He brings his hands up and gently fondles her buttocks thus getting her in motion. He buries his face in her fanny. licking. sucking and nibbling. After several minutes of intenseness he would like to linger longer licking but he is impelled towards orgasm by Sky's relentless up and down and around movements. He comes out of the shower dripping wet with a bath towel wrapped round his waist into the lounge where the girls are dressed and ready to go. 'We will be off then' announces Louise hopefully.

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'Why don't you go and sit in the kitchen for a few minutes Sky I want a litle chat with Louise. Make yourself a sandwich. I'll drive you into town.' 'Freddy's picking us up. I'll wait downstairs.' declares Sky. getting up from the settee and leaving. 'Goodnight then' says Carl. Freddy the Accountant, retired, apart from handling the Vermillion account doubles as unofficial part-time driver. He has the stimulation of driving young attractive women around and being paid for it plus the bonus of the occasional hand job. 'Schnapps?' 'Pardon me?' 'Do you want a drink Louise?' 'No thanks.' She crosses one leg over the other. Carl goes to the drinks cabinet adjacent to the computer desk and pours an inch of spirit into a whisky glass then glass in hand sits down in an armchair. 'What do you think of Sky?' Carl asks and takes a drink. 'She tries hard but she is, how can I say this, unsophisticated.' 'And?' 'She is a slut and probably a druggie.' 'How come she works at Vermillion?' 'You would have to ask Tricia about that. They seem quite pally in the office. Not that Tricia is in the office much.' 'You wouldn't have a problem getting rid of her if you were in charge then.' 'No I would not.' 'It is coming back to me that morale amongst the girls is not good.' 'Some really attractive girls have left the past few months because they have been fed up with the way things are run. Or more accurately how they are not run. Tricia is ever hardly around. Tammy usually takes the bookings and assigns the jobs and she has her favourites.' 'So what do you think is going on with Tricia Louise.' He downs his drink. 'She is a coke head isn't she and spends most evenings down the Victorian Redux? That's the gossip around the office.' 'Sorry you've lost me.' 'It's a casino come lap-dancing club. They have a nice restaurant there as well. Also they do cabaret.' 'Mmm. You better toddle off now Louise.' He stands up. Don't tell Tricia I told you all this. The girls will think me a grass.' 'You are doing me, Tricia and all you girls a big favour.' He assures her. 'Hi Cathy darling. What are you watching?' He sits down next to he and gives her a kiss. She is sitting on the settee, feet up, wearing her blue and white dobby plaid flannel pajamas which she finds best for relaxing in of an evening despite the warmth of this summers night. 'I don't know I am not watching it. I am reading.' 'And what are you reading dear Cathy?' 'Sushi for Beginners' by Marian Keyes.'

'Good?' ' I am enjoying it. Are you hungry? There's macaroni cheese in the fridge I made for us. I can warm it up for you.' 'I am not hungry. What kind of day have you had?' 'Hectic. Mia has been irritable and miserable all day long. Teething.' 'Teething' Carl agrees. 'The washing machine broke down with all the kids laundry in it and I had to call the plumber out. That Alina is not much help.' 'Was it her fault the washing machine broke down?' 'No. I Just think she is not very supportive. Like she is smirking behind my back whenever anything goes wrong.' 'I'll have a word with her. Perhaps we should look for a replacement.' 'She is always in her room watching dvds she gets from the video shop. She has 'only fools and horses' blaring away, or 'fawlty towers 'all the time 'She is trying to understand British comedy and humour.' 'She could do a bit more round the house. She wants to cook us a traditional Polish dish at the weekend.' 'That should be nice. Talking of food have we any of that ciabatta loaf left we bought from the supermarket yesterday.' 'It's untouched.' 'I really fancy a ciabatta steak sandwich. Will you do it for me whilst I make a phone call. I'll take it in the office.' 'You work too hard.' Says Cathy standing up and heading for the kitchen. 'This is Carl. Who are you? Tammy. Is Tricia in the office? Is she out on a job? When did she pop out? This is bullshit Tammy. When was she last in the office? When. Saturday? It's Tuesday today. Look, I don't want you or anyone else there covering for Tricia. How often does she come into the office and actually do anything? She pops in occasionally. How nice of her. She doesn't. You do. Ok Tammy I'll ring her mobile. By the way has Sky any kids? You don't think so. But she has given birth? How do I know? A man can tell.' He puts down the phone and re-enters the lounge and calls through to Cathy in the kitchen 'I'm going upstairs so bring it is up when it's ready.' Up the stairs to the landing, passing Alina's room from which comes the roar of canned laughter. 'I wonder if her boyfriend is with her tonight' he wonders briefly. He gently pushes the nursery door open and creeps in and spends a few minutes looking at and thinking of his baby daughters. In the master bedroom he pulls off his blue Adidas polo shirt, trainers, socks and light grey cargo trousers. Wearing only his Primark boxer shorts purchased for him by Cathy he turns on the cd stereo system and slips in a Within Temptation disc that he bought for Cathy, 'Mother Earth', and sits on the bed. A few minutes later Cathy appears with his steak ciabatta on a plate. 'You forgot the ketchup Cath.' 'Sorry. I'll pop down and get it.'

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Chapter 2: Carl arrives back at the house in Richmond Wood Road after his hour long run in Queens Park hot, sweaty and feeling randy. The sounds of Virgin Fm on the kitchen radio welcome him. Carpeted throughout Mia is allowed to walk and stumble as she will. Alina is bending over holding Mia's hands, her jeans down low barely covering her buttocks, showing her nearly transparent flesh coloured thong. 'Good morning Mr Carl. How are you this fine morning?' 'Invigorated thank you Alina. Your English is improving' 'Invi-gor-ated?' 'Look it up in the dictionary. Where is the mistress of the house?' 'Pardon?' 'Cathy?' 'Oh Cathy. She in laundry room.' 'Ok. Hi Mia.' 'Dad-dy' She responds. Carl walks across to lounge to the Utility room. He enters and sees Cathy is sorting out a basket of baby clothes on the table. The washing machine is humming working on another load. He pulls the door shut behind him. 'Look at you. Red as a beetroot.' She stops sorting and comes round the table and gives him a peck on the cheek. She is wearing a short blue and white patterned summer dress. 'Why don't you take a shower.' She makes to turn away but Carl holds her by the arms and kisses her lightly, then brings his right hand round to the back of her head and kisses her more firmly pushing his pelvis against hers. 'Alina might come in.' 'She can watch if she wants. Sit on the end of the table.' He pulls up the front of her dress grasping the elastic of her knickers and pulls them down and off. 'Lie back' he directs, pulling down his shorts, and firmly pushing his cock into her semimoist snatch. 'Uh' she gasps as she wraps her legs around his waist and grips him tight with her ankles crossed. 'Loosen up Cath I can't move' he complains. She does as requested giving him more manoeuvrability. He pulls back to the point of withdrawal then thrusts hard, his cock gliding smoothly into her slick cunt again and again. Gripping her buttocks he steps back with her legs still encircling his waist, her back arched, shoulders and back of the head only making contact with the table. Cathy is breathing rapidly through her mouth whilst he gives an occasional grunt. On the point of climaxing now he pushes her back onto the table, releases himself from her grasp, pulls her upright and off the table into a kneeling position in front of him and slips his cock into her mouth, jerks a couple of times and ejaculates into her mouth. A shiver runs through her as she swallows and he ruffles her hair. As Carl has said to her on more than one occasion ’ an orgasm for me is a necessity, for you a luxury.’ 'I had better take a shower' says Carl as he withdraws. 'So how are you today Sandra?'

'Very well Mr Langdon.' 'You can call me Carl.' 'Very well Carl.' Carl leans back in his swivel chair looks from her to his notes. Sandra is a thin bespectacled twenty five year old wearing a sensible dark blue suit consisting of jacket and skirt, brown brogues and light brown tights with her dark brown hair pulled into a serious bun. Blue eyes behind those lenses, cute upturned nose. Could look quite pretty if she wore contact lenses and let her hair down. She sits his knees together with hands clasped in her lap in the leather armchair opposite him. He looks down at his notes. 'Frigid devout Christian. Never had an orgasm. Married to Simon. Both virgins when they married so both inexperienced. Simon prematurely ejaculates. Met at church and are both in church choir.' He recalls her first visit. 'Have you considered you might be a lesbian?' 'Oh no I couldn't be a lesbian. The Church sees homosexuality as a sin.' 'Ok. Have you tried other men?' 'I couldn't do that I am a married woman. But I could with you. If you were my therapist.' 'You want me to teach you how to have an orgasm?' 'Yes. I feel I am missing out. I am a good Christian and I don't know why I should. Everyone is experiencing this wonderful thing. A fantastic experience, more exciting than a roller-coaster ride or swimming with sharks. Everyone is living their lives in Technicolor and my world is beige. I had this dream about you. Well not exactly you but I met this handsome charismatic man and through his expert and passionate lovemaking he released me from the spell that I am under.' 'I think you are confusing me with Jude Law.' I know this is right. I think if I can open myself up to one man completely, wholeheartedly I could do so with Simon. The keyhole that fits all keys or rather the keyhole that fits just the one key.' 'Mmm. I would need you to provide me with a full profile; medical, psychological, personal. I will probe you for any psychological reasons for your inhibitions, question you about your attitudes towards sex and how, where and why you make love. The ambience, music, lights, time of day. In the bedroom, out doors. Porn?' 'It will be hard for me but I am determined to do whatever it takes to improve my love life.' 'Sex is very much a mental thing, more so for most women. To have the best sex regularly you need to use your imagination. It is more than the physical act. It is about discovering yourself, what turns you on, about revealing yourself and letting go. Not hiding. Not being afraid. Trust and honesty. For your partner needs to do the same. I do not usually quote celebrities but Jerry Hall put it succinctly when she said 'A women needs to be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom.' Sandra giggled uncomfortably then covering her mouth with one hand. Carl continued.

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'You have to be able to expose your sexual sides to each other. We will see how therapy progresses but it might be best to have Simon in here as well at a later stage. There is no ravenous she-wolf lurking inside you waiting to escape to rip and tear and devour. Your appetite and needs are no different to any other woman's and there is no need for guilt or shame.' 'Disembowel him.' Sandra mumbled. 'What was that?' Carl enquired. 'Cut him open.' She speaks louder and clearer. 'You might harbour a certain amount of resentment towards your husband but inside of you is a passionate caring woman and I am sure Simon wants only to love, cherish and protect you. When I am satisfied that we have covered that ground extensively we can move onto relaxation exercises, meditation and possibly hypnosis. Finally we discover the sexual techniques that work best for you. So if you are agreeable you will need to see me once or twice a week for four to six weeks and I will need a deposit of £350 before we start. Today. Now. And a further £400 on completion of your therapy.' 'This session I want you to take your clothes off and lie on the couch. You can keep your underwear on for the moment.' A startled, fox being pursued by hounds, look appears briefly in her eyes. 'Go and stand by the window and put your clothes on the chair.' 'Are you going to watch me?' 'You are paying me to help you overcome your shyness. The first step in revealing your naked self is being comfortable with your naked body. Proceed please.' Carl swivels round in his chair as Sandra rises from her seats and walks to the other side of the room. The blinds are half closed striating that end of the room with light and shade. 'I'll put on some relaxing music' suggests Carl rising from his seat and taking a few steps to the cd player. He puts in a cd and turns to see Sandra has only taken off her jacket and shoes. 'Hurry up Sandra you've nothing I haven't seen before.' 'That's what is making me uncomfortable. You will be comparing me with other women.' 'Nonsense. I'll leave the room for a minute and when I come back be laying on the couch ok.' 'Ok.' He leaves the room and goes into the lounge where all is peaceful. The house appears to be deserted. The kitchen digital radio is not on so Alina must be out, the babes either out with her or taking a nap after being awake half the night with Cathy. He sits down on the leather settee and takes his mobile phone out of his shirt pocket and taps in a text message and sends. After this hiatus of four minutes he returns to the therapy room pleased to see that Sandra is laying prone on the couch wearing only her pink bra and knickers with her hands over her crotch. She still is wearing her specs. 'Bony hips. Looks like she could do with a good meal. Probably eats like a bird and very finicky,' thinks Carl. 'What do you want me to do?' she asks of him.

'I just want you to close your eyes and relax. Take off your specs and hand then to me. Firstly I will balance your chakras without touching you then we will proceed for there. Now take several deep breaths and just relax.' Ten minutes later Carl asks her to sit up and remove her bra and knickers and to lie back down. He starts by stroking her arms, clavicle and scapula, she tenses slightly as the palms of his hands glide asexually over her small but pert breasts, over her abdomen across her virgin bush and along her thighs. He then repeats using small circular motions applying a little more pressure. Then down ward strokes. More circular movements then again with the downward strokes. He feels her relaxing more and more. 'Sit up now Sandra.' Her eyes open slowly. 'Now I am going to undress and lie on the couch and you are going to do what I have been doing to you. Gently stroking my body. Ok?' 'What have I got myself into?' 'Trust me. I'm your therapist. You might not know where this is leading but I do. Do you trust me?' 'Um yes.' 'Ok?' 'Ok. I'll get dressed.' 'No. Stay as you are. I'll undress.' He strips out of his clothes and lies on the couch. His penis rests on his right thigh. Her hands glide tentatively over his body for a few minutes before she feels comfortable and begins to enjoy the feel of his skin, the light hairing on his chest and legs. Her strokes and rubbing motions become stronger and deliberate. 'That's nice,' he comments. Eyes closed, breathing lightly. She has his attention now. 'Stroke my balls and feel my penis,' he suggests. She rubs him slowly and sensually. 'You are getting the idea.' he encourages. She takes his penis in her fingers and gives it a few squeezes. Despite himself his arousal is becoming self-evident as is hers. She bites her upper lip and breaths through her mouth. 'Her fanny is burning like a furnace. I could screw her now and she would climax alright but I want to give her her moneys worth,' he thinks. His cock stirs, he flexes his muscles and it is ready for active duty. 'Time is up for this week Sandra. Get dressed now and then we will talk.' Five minutes later they are fully dressed and sitting in their respective seats. 'Do you ever have oral sex?' asks Carl. 'Well we kiss. On the mouth. I've tried his thing in my mouth but I don't like it.' she admits. 'Does he ever go between your legs?' 'Lord no. To be honest I have asked him but he doesn't like the idea. He finds the idea distasteful.' 'Apart from going to church and singing in the choir together do you pursue any other joint activities?' 'Um, like what?'

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'Oh I don't know. Paintballing! Bungee jumping! Free basing! Armed robbery!' She smiles at his jokes. 'What is important is that you are able to firstly pleasure yourself. The next time you take a bath light a few candles, listen to some relaxing music and try to get into a sex mood. I suggest you go to a sex shop and buy a few toys.' She looks at him blankly. 'A dildo, better still a vibrating dildo, a few magazines, a video or two.' 'We do not own a video recorder. Simon wouldn't go into a sex shop and I cannot go in on my own. I would be too embarrassed.' 'Think about it. Tuesday morning alright for your next appointment?' The town centre is busy as usual in the afternoon but Carl is lucky to find a parking space for the dark blue Nissan Patrol SVE on Bourne Avenue opposite the tennis courts. Driving the family vehicle with Cathy and the kids aboard always tickles his imagination into safari scenarios. Whilst Cathy extricates the girls from their back seat harnesses Carl unfolds the EasyLife all terrain twin pushchair and sets it up on the pavement. Mia chatters excitedly whilst Poppy kicks her legs and gurgles in agreement on this warm sunny afternoon with the merest hint of a zephyr coming off the nearby stream. Carl is wearing a wearing his green ‘church of the new age philosophers’ sweatshirt, blue Levi jeans and hush puppies whilst Cathy is wearing a dark purple shirt, over her Next jeans. Both have on shades. He pushes the children whilst Cathy walks alongside, thwack-thwacking in her new leather sandals her shoulderbag swinging in time to her jaunty step. 'What a lovely day.' she gushes breathlessly. 'Sure is darling.' agrees Carl looking both ways as he prepares to cross the road to Borders bookshop. A gap in the traffic allows for a quick crossing. He negotiates a path through the milling crowd of Saturday shoppers, skateboarders, students, refugees, unicyclists and mobile phone cover sellers to the shop entrance. 'You look after the kids then and I'll pop to Debenhams and M & S and you wait in here.' announces Cathy. 'Yes Mother.' smiles Carl. 'You go and enjoy yourself and spend lots of money.' 'See you soon.' And she is off. The shop is very busy but Carl eases a path down the central aisle to the crime thriller section where he scans the titles looking for something to catch his eye. Mia throws her purple Zapf 'my lovely baby' wrist rattle onto the floor and Poppy starts crying whilst Robbie Williams latest recording plays over the PA system. 'What's up Poppy. Don't you like Robbie Williams? Do you want a bottle?' he asks bending down to hold her hand. 'I thought you would most likely be found in the sex novels section.' a female voice whispers in his ear. Carl turns his head to see a pair of grey jogging pants knees then unbends allowing his eyes to travel up the legs to the crotch, those long beringed fingers, and hence to the busty bust and then eye contact with those cattish green eyes that sparkle like emeralds which always seek to draw him into an alternative fantasy world of savagery, heroes, princesses and two-headed tusked beasts with a backdrop of twin suns, blood red skies and white-capped purple mountain peaks. 'I get all the porno I need in real life.' 'I bet you do darling. But nothing like you get with me.' Green eyes emphasised by high

cheekbones encompassed by long cascading wavy red hair. American teeth behind purple lips smile beguilingly. 'You haven't been over to see me for weeks. Am I too scary for you?' Carl ignores the taunt. 'What are you doing here Leilani, slumming it in your jogging suit? Trying to pass yourself off as a thirty something desperate housewife?' 'Actually I want a copy of 'Imaginative Sex' but they don't have it. I'll try on-line to get a copy. Cute kids. Give me a ring sometime. I'm sure your anima is due for a walk on the darkside.' She gives him a peck on the cheek and swiftly walks away. 'Ciao,' calls out Carl. Mia's wailing brings him back to earth and he looks around for the rattle. 'Hello Carl.' He retrieves the rattle from under the bottom shelf and stands up to be greeted by the cynical smile of Abi, Cathy's mother. 'Abi. How nice to see you.' 'Interesting friends you have,' she comments sarcastically. 'Just a client. Purely a business relationship. What have you been buying?' Abi has a Borders bag in her hand. 'A Jamie Oliver cookbook. Where's Cathy?' 'Buying underwear and sundry other items she say.' Abi as always is splendidly turned out. Perfect makeup, perfect tan. perfect platinum blonde. A sought after model in the late sixties with grace and sophistication wearing beige trousers, a white blouse and short pale green jacket who in her mid-fifties still was called upon to do the occasional catalogue shoot. 'Hello Mia and Poppy. Are you coming to see Granny soon. I must dash Trevor will be getting impatient and he must avoid getting stressed.' 'I'm sure you are good at relieving his tensions Abi'

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'Cheeky. Ask Cathy to call me. Bye.' 'Ciao. Right kids. Let's get you an ice cream each.' Carl is in his black t-shirt and boxer shorts later in the day having an electric shave in the bathroom when the door buzzer goes. 'About time,' he mutters slipping into character and going to the intercom and buzzing her in. 'Come on in Tricia. Take a seat. Drink?' 'Thanks. Vodka and lemonade.' Tricia sits downs in one of the armchairs facing the window. Svelte and having lost at least a stone and having gained to Carl's eyes two inches in height Tricia is hardly the Trisha of nearly two years previous. Not just a change of name but a dramatic change in appearance and personality. Short copper brown hair framing a lean face now. Gone are the chubby cheeks. Dressed down in jeans, a coffee-coloured roll neck jumper, denim jacket and trainers reminds Carl that he cannot remember the last time he saw her dressed to kill though even now she looks desirable; discounting the tired eyes, the drawn cheeks and the few spots. 'I used to consider her just a receptacle for my spunk. Now I wouldn't mind making love to her. But not now, later,' he mentally takes note, forming an image in his mind of her on all fours with him kneeling behind, shafting her. 'Here's your drink Tricia. How are you?' Carl sit down on the settee facing her with a whisky and lemonade in his hand. 'So so you know. How are Cathy and the girls?' She looks comfortable and relaxed. 'All are well. I have to go in half an hour so I'll get straight to the point Tricia.' Carl states laconically. 'I would have been here earlier but I couldn't find the car keys and then Danny wanted dropping off at the casino.' She smiles winsomely. 'Mmm. The casino! I would like to say that it is none of my business what you do when you are not working and if you choose to frequent casinos then it is up to you. But, if it has repercussions, effects Vermillion then I am concerned.' Carl looks at Tricia part pensively, mainly accusatory. 'I don't know what you have been hearing, what gossips have been saying about me but it is not true.' She downs her drink and holds her arm out for a refill. Carl stands up and takes her glass and goes to the antique Victorian round walnut drinks cabinet that Stewarts inherited from his father and replenishes her glass. 'We are on the same side Tricia,' he says handing her the glass which she puts down loudly on the glass table. 'A little rattled.' thinks Carl 'would it be arrogant of me to say that I made her. Probably. But if so I am equally entitled to unmake her.' She takes a pack of Pall Mall Superslim Lights and a Dunhill lighter out of left breast pocket, lights up a cigarette and offers the pack to Carl. 'Sorry. You have given up haven't you?' He takes one and accepts a light. 'I indulge myself occasionally.' he admits and empties his glass. Outside a car revving its engine disturbs the quiet of the evening. It is just after seven, still bright without and within.

'It seems that are you neglecting the business Tricia.' he starts sympathetically 'hardly ever being in the office supervising matters. The website hasn't been updated for weeks. possible months. Hold on you can have your say in a minute. The takings are down and honestly some of the girls we have on the books are right skanks. Sky is probably a doper and is better suited to hanging around street corners than working for Vermillion. And since when is Tammy on the phones?' 'They are friends so I like having them around.' 'Friends like them you don't need. This is a business not a social club. But anyway it is expedient to let them go.' 'I'll get rid of them if you don't want them around. It is true I haven't been in the office that much recently,' concedes Tricia, ' but I trust the girls.' She lights up another cigarette. 'Can I have another drink?' 'Sure.' Carl goes to the drinks cabinet. 'This is not about trust this is about running a business. Making sure that we take bookings. the girls do the jobs and they pay their fees.' Carl picks up a tumbler and pours in a double measure of vodka and tops it up with lemonade and returns to his seat, putting the drink down on the table. 'There is little diversity amongst the girls. Why is it that most of them are blonde Anglo Saxons.' 'Gentlemen prefer blondes' she offers lamely.' 'Crap. There are many attractive women who are blondes but not all blondes are attractive. Look around you. Not literally. Here in Bournemouth and environs, this conurbation we live in has thousands of students, many of them from the Far East and many people from Eastern Europe. Immigrants and asylum seekers. We need new blood. Vermillion wants to be like the United Nations. Diverse, exciting and energetic. Also older woman. Niche markets. Uh. For instance what about 'fuck a Goth' or 'screw an American before they screw you.' And I have been thinking we ought to put the girls in uniforms. The same underwear emblazoned with the Vermillion logo. Crotchless basques etc. 'You know when you have been serviced by a Vermillion girl.' Use your imagination. Plus we don't want girls with depictions of the Battle of Waterloo tattooed on their butts or below the navel. Leave that to the girlfriends. We want to cater for all tastes, offer choice not just the gang-bangers we have on our books at the moment. Are we in accord.' He looks at Tricia. 'Ok.' she says in approbation. She is getting fidgety, takes a long swallow of her drink and lights another cigarette. 'You need to advertise for new girls is one thing and put some enthusiasm and energy back into the business rather than just taking out. You know what I mean?' Carl leans forward and takes a cigarette from the pack on the table, lights it and sits back feeling relaxed and confident. 'Like playing a fish on a hook.' he thinks. 'I need to go to the loo,' states Tricia rising from the settee. 'She probably needs to snort a few lines.' thinks Carl. Six minutes later she returns rubbing her nose and breathing deeply. 'Feeling better?' he casually enquirers. 'Thanks. I think I might be coming down with something.'

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'Sit down again we are almost finished. We started this business together Tricia. I think of you as a friend as well as your boss am I am concerned about what you are doing to the business and to yourself. I know that you are into coke and playing the roulette and you have been 'borrowing' money from the accounts. No point in denying it. I am offering you the chance to rectify matters and put things right. Turn over a new leaf as the saying goes. You have had a free hand for months but now I want you to show that you are committed to Vermillion. You draw out five hundred pound a week, you have a twenty five percent stake in the business so do you really want to lose all that. Plus you probably cannot remember the last time you saw a punter. You have it easy.' 'I'm sorry. I have screwed up recently.' 'At least you can admit it. I want you in the office every day supervising and taking bookings and I want to see a great deal of improvement. Are you taking all this on board.' 'Of course.' 'Ok then. We have done talking for now. I've said my piece.' 'Thanks Carl. I hate it when you are angry with me. I wont let you down. Do you want sex?' 'No. I'll pass. Go on then. Just a quick blowjob.' Screen One in the ABC cinema in Westover Road is half empty and despite having a few laughs and the occasional chuckle Carl is restless and Cathy has fallen asleep during this screening of Wedding Crashers. 'Breast feeding at five o clock in the morning is taking it's toll on my conscientious and dutiful wife in her motherly role,' acknowledges Carl. She is slumped in her seat with her head resting on his shoulder and snoring gently. 'Not really my kind of humour. I prefer Jack Dee to Lee Evans for instance.' He twitches his right shoulder and Cathy momentarily opens her eyes, shifts position and rests her head on the back of the seat and is quickly asleep again. 'Back in a minute' whispers Carl getting up from his seat. He descends the steps of the amphitheatre to the exit above the lower level and makes his way down to the foyer. He flips open his phone and presses the number three button that connects him to the office. 'Vermillion Escorts. How can I help you?' asks a woman's voice. 'This is Carl.' 'Carl who?' 'Carl the Boss.' 'Oh Carl. Sorry I didn't recognise your voice. This is Louise.' she says hesitantly. 'Is Tricia working tonight?' 'No she hasn't been in.' 'Anyone else in the office there? Any of the girls?' 'Sam has just come in.' 'Sam! Do I know her?'

'I don't know Carl. She is from Brum. Short dark hair, Five foot two,. petite and very attractive and' Carl butts in. 'Ok. I'm at the ABC cinema. Tell her to jump in a taxi and I'll meet her in the foyer. Tell her to wear a coat and to be naked underneath it. Now.' He disconnects slipping the phone back into the pocket of his red polo shirt pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and purchases a choc ice from the refreshments kiosk. The soundtrack to Moulin Rouge plays through a speaker high up on the wall a little too harshly. The office is situated in Westbourne, a mile or so from the town centre. Carl is half way through eating the choc ice looking at the posters for forthcoming films when the outer door opens and in strides a slim young woman in her early twenties wearing an unseasonable full length belted white trench coat that stretches past her knees with a black beret on her head, incongruous green high heels and black bag over her shoulder heading straight for him. 'Hello Chuck. Where do you want me?' she asks still chewing her gum. 'Come with me Sam.' directs Carl throwing the remains of the ice into a bin and leading her up the stairs out of the foyer. As the movie is already over an hour old the cinema staff have deserted their posts so they are not challenged. Entering Screen One from the top of the amphitheatre by the loos Carl tells Sam 'go into a cubicle and wait for me. I'll be a couple of minutes.' Sam enters the Gents toilet whilst Carl descends the stairs to check that Cathy is still blissfully aware of his absence. He trots back up the stairs and enters the loo which has no patrons at present. Sam is awaiting him in the end cubicle sitting on the toilet seat smoking a cigarette with the trench coat open revealed her finely sculptured tits and artistically heart-shaped bush. Carl squeezes into the confined space and shuts the door behind him and looks down on her approvingly. Sam rubs his crotch and unzips him, frees his stiffening circumcised cock from his boxers and puts her lips round his knob and with her left hand proceeds to wank him. After a few minutes of her ministrations during which time she pauses several times to take a drag on her cigarette and a chew on her gum Carl pulls away. 'Let me see if your jack and danny is as congenial as your mouth. Have you a johnny?' 'Sure.' she affirms 'but you don't have to. I'm clean.' 'And eager to please.' he qualifies. 'You're the big boss man.' she elucidates. 'I'm a married man. Slip it on for me. Let's make this hard and fast,' comments Carl pulling down his trousers and shorts. 'Just how I like it.' He takes a tit in each hand to fondle and squeeze. 'They are all mine darling. Feel before you buy.' She takes his cock in her right hand. He pulls her left leg up and aligns his cock up to her hairy fanny, grasps her right leg and hoists her onto his erection. ‘Ooh.’ she gasps as he pushes home. ‘Ah’, as he thrusts hard, gripping her buttocks firmly. Intent on fucking though he is he is unable to block out the sound of someone entering the toilet but he doesn’t miss a stroke. Sam continues to gasp with each thrust her back occasionally banging against the fragile cubicle wall. ‘Fuck me, someone’s getting his end away.’ Voice One. ‘Christ he’s giving her some.’ Voice Two. ‘A right seeing to. Jammy bugger.’ Voice One

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Carl grunts out a rhythm in counterpoint to Sam’s melody. The cubicle wall creaks in accompaniment. ‘A terrible seeing to.’ agrees Voice Two. ‘Let’s get out of here before the building collapses,’ advises Voice One. Lightweight Sam glides easily on his rod but due to his vigorous exertions the condom slips off. ‘Fuck it.’ ‘Come on baby. Come for Sam.’ ‘There ain’t no stopping now.’ he growls as he cums his load. Sam does a good performance of climaxing as well. ‘That was fun. I’ll see you again sometime Sam. Here’s fifty quid. Off you go now’ Carl gives her the money outside the toilet. gives her a peck on the cheek. He makes his way down the steps cautiously in the semi-darkness as Sam exits noisily through the top exit. The credits are rolling already. He finds his seat row where Cathy is awake and ready to go. ‘Where have you been? she asks mildly concerned. ‘That curry is giving me gyp.’ ‘We haven’t had a curry silly.’ ‘Ready?’ ‘I must have dozed off for awhile. Did you have a good time.’ ‘I always have a good time with you Cathy,’ he says smiling and taking her hand to help her up. The lights are up and the patrons are leaving. As they descend the steps they pass two you men sitting several seat in from the aisle. ’Alright mate,’ the nearest calls out, giving the thumbs up sign, his friend contents himself with a smirk. ‘Do you know them.’ enquires Cathy. ‘Must have mistaken me for someone else. It wouldn't be the first time. I have a generic physiognomy, a template for a type, a generation. But not this one.’ ‘You do have a certain appeal.’ admits Cathy holding his arm tight. ‘I cant wait to cuddle up in bed.’ Later. ‘You're a long time coming, not that I’m complaining.’ complains Cathy Patience, I’m almost there. A few more, ah, strokes, uh uh, and I'll be creating so much energy I could, uh, jump, ah, start a, juggernaut, ah, ooh, ooh, cause a , ah, chain re, uh, action or, spon, ah, taneously, mm, mm, combust. Ah.’ Carl climbs off her. ‘That was hard work for so little. I'm hardly wet. ‘Just as well. We don’t want to get you pregnant again do we?’ ‘I like being pregnant. It makes me feel ah.’ ‘Horny?’ ‘Horny and a, cosmic. Like in that Beatles song, ‘Across the universe.’ ‘Waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind.’ ‘Possessing and caressing me.’ ‘Possessing and caressing me like only my man can.’ Chapter 3: Carl sits in his office with the door and a window open at the computer desk checking his emails and reading his mail. The house is quiet as Cathy and the girls with

Alina have decided to have a session on the beach. A light blue envelope with a stamp depicting a map of Italy and celebrating the centenary of the founding of the Automobile Club D'Italia commands his attention. It has been a few months since any communication from that part of the world. He opens the envelope with interest and extracts the white notepaper. 'Caro Carl. I come to England and visit you in Bournemouth 28th July. I arrive on TOM 3844 at mid-day. I call on you as a brother for your hospitality. I telephone you when I arrive or you can meet me. Uno per tutti e tutti per uno. Ciao. Angelo.' 'It will be fun to see Angelo again,' Carl hears the front door slam. 'with his prodigious appetite for the pleasures of the flesh and a prodigious member to enjoy them to the utmost. He always has been a hit with the females though everyone agrees he is arrogant, conceited and deceitful. Probably no change there. I had better arrange some entertainment. They can't be back already.' Carl logs out of Tiscali mail and goes on to the Vermillion Entertainments website. A stylish colourful on-line catalogue of girls and prices which is however months out of date, some of the escorts no longer being on the books and some that are have not been pictured. An in advance £75 on-line booking fee plus £75 per hour is correct. Payment by credit card, debit card or PayPal, cheque or postal order. His phone beeps to notify him he has received a message so he flips open his LG phone, activates the menu, scrolls down and presses ‘ok’ to view the photo. On the mobile screens he is pleasantly surprised to see a pair of large breasts, a neck with a silver crucifix hanging down and a wide smiling lipsticked mouth framed by natural corncoloured hair. ‘Ah Alina, I recognise those tanned knockers courtesy of all the time off we give you. So you’ve come back early for some reason. Not to see me but being the opportunist that you are, well. How much are you going to stiff me for this time. I could decline of course.’ He closes the phone and continues to peruse the website. ‘I think portrait shots are acceptable for the homepage but otherwise wide-open beavers will attract the customers. I still have those Trisha vegetable and other accessories pix we could upload. Mmm. I better find Alina before she scoots off.’ He leaves things as they are in the room, steps into the hall and crosses the living room to find Alina in the kitchen leaning against the oak table bare chested, a multicoloured swirly patterned wraparound skirt on her lower half, brown leather roman gladiator sandals on her feet eating a piece of blueberry pie topped with a generous helping of squirty cream. Her face and tits are sheened with sunblock. 'You want some Mr Carl?' she offers a piece of pie to him as gets close her blue eyes twinkling. He takes the offered dessert in his mouth. 'Cathy make. She is good in kitchen, no.' 'Very nice.' He looks into the liquid pool of her eyes and feels he could dive into one and come up to surface into the clear warm waters of the Arabian Sea. He remembers his marble collection when he was ten and his favourite, the blue one, in particular, the one of the many that were lost when they had to move in a hurry in the middle of a winter's night when the snow lay unevenly thin and sludgey. 'What are you doing here Alina? You are meant to be down the beach.' He looks at her enquiringly briefly then appreciatively at her plumpish curvaceous figure. 'I come back for baby bottle Cathy forget.' He takes the plate out of her hands and puts

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it down on the table to the side and brings his lips to hers pushing his tongue into her mouth tasting blueberries and melting cream. He feels his cock stiffening, pushing against the crotch of his jeans. His right hand comes up to cup her left breast whilst he continues to kiss her, her tongue finding it's way into his mouth as she moans softly. He leans forward pushing her back so she is half sitting on the table her hands dropping to support herself and takes her other breast in his left hand, fondles both. 'You like my titties Mr Carl?' she asks huskily. 'I love your succulent titties' he admits. ‘Jesteś seksowny. Very sexy.’ He sucks the nipple of the left, then the right for a few minutes alternating between the two. When he undoes the large safety pin her wraparound skirt falls to the ground revealing a thin orange thong that does little to cover her familiar au naturelle blonde thatch.. He unloosen it's bow and pulls it away and allows it to drop to the water resistant carpetted kitchen floor. Her legs are lightly tanned and her thighs just a shade lighter with a hint of sunburn, evidence to him that she has been sunning herself over at the naturists beach since the last time he enjoyed the pleasures of her kindled and uninhibited lovemaking. 'Just a quickie today though' he thinks. He kneels down in front of her, parting her legs and commences stroking her inner thighs before rubbing her crack and easing two fingers into her moist cunt. Alina moans with undisguised pleasure. ‘You kiss me there now yes? Proszę.’ ‘My pleasure.’ he says opening her wide with his thumbs and proceeding to lick her clitoris whilst finger fucking. She leans further back bringing her heels up onto the edge of the table. ‘Cudowwny.’ she exclaims. ‘Wonderful.' whilst he works his magic with his tongue. Several minutes later he can contain himself no longer so stands up, pulls down his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion. 'Stand up Alina. Turn round. That's right. Lean forward. A bit more.' He pulls open the cheeks of her arse and shoves his cock roughly into her cunt. Grasping her wide hips he thrusts hard and fast and with her gasps of encouragement shoots his load as she a few seconds later climaxes too. 'Phew. Don't move. I'll get you some kitchen towel.' As she slips her tight-fitting lilac top over her head he reminds her of the baby bottle. 'I'll drive the wagon back to the beach with you.' ‘The boys in Krakow never do that.' 'What's that Alina?' 'Kiss me there like you do.' 'Poland is mainly Catholic is it not! Eating pussy is considered a heretical practice.' 'Eating pussy! What is this eating pussy?' 'Come on. Have you got everything. We can talk in the wagon.' 'Ah Carl. I no like to ask. Have you money for me to buy talking books? To improve my English.' 'What do you want to buy?' 'Dan Brown books and a Harry Potter I think.' Carl extricates his wallet from his back pocket. 'Here's fifty quid. Enjoy yourself. Let's go. Cathy will be wondering where you are.'

They weave a path along the promenade through the strollers, pushchair pushing parents, wheeling wheelchairs, careless cyclists, heart attack and sunstroke victims being tended by paramedics, picnickers allergic to sand and others more at ease on terra tarmac. Occasionally it is expedient for Cathy and Carl to run on the road. Cathy is wearing her yellow runner bra and red shorts with a yellow Lacoste bum bag hanging off her hips, white socks and green trainers whereas Carl is wearing a plain white tshirt, black shorts and white trainers. Both are wearing blue New York Yankees Baseball caps, souvenirs of a trip to that city before Mia was born. Alina is caring for the girls in the Patrol parked near the bottom of the zigzag and adjacent to the lift ride. On this glorious summers day the beach is crowded more so in the area around the entrance to the pier and amusement arcade where there are food stalls, simulation rides, trampolines and sundry sellers of numerous novelties. They slow to a walk till they are pass the Oceanarium and recommence jogging outside Happyland, sidestepping the landtrain, where the crowds are less dense and more in motion. By the time they reach Durley Chine Cathy complains she 'is all puffed out' but Carl spurs her on promising her ' a refreshing cappuccino and a Danish pastry when we reach Vesuvio at Alum Chine.' They sit by the window resting after their in excess of one mile run with their coffees and pastries watching an irate young mother berating and slapping a little girl no more than five years old out on the prom. 'Some women just shouldn't have children. I feel like going and punching her in the mouth,' snarls Cathy venomously. 'And end up in the police cells in the process.' observes Carl. 'Where are the NSPCC when you need them? They bleat on about putting an end to child cruelty but how they propose to do that boggles the mind and cobbles the imagination.' The angry woman drags the distraught child out of view. 'I'll never treat our daughters like that,' Cathy vows. 'Of course you won't darling. How's the Danish?' Carl enquires. 'Fine, Fresh even. My thighs ache. I am not use to jogging. I must try to do my yoga more often.' 'You should. Put more responsibility onto Alina. You don't want to be one of those overprotective mothers who worry constantly, fearful and afraid do you. That kind of behaviour can quash a child's natural development. A few bumps and grazes, emotionally as well as physically, are part of a child's development.' 'I am not like that am I?' queries Cathy alarmed. 'No. But you could be. Don't forget that Alina says she looked after her two younger siblings when her mother was in hospital getting treatment for TB and her father was working away from home. Just like the process of osmosis.' 'She never said that.' Cathy looks at him sceptically. 'Not exactly but that was the general drift.' 'It is different when you have given birth to them yourself.' 'I'm sure it is. Are you fit?' 'Once more into the jog dear Carl. Alina wants to know where she can buy some venison for her meal. She wants to start it tonight as apparently the dish is more flavourful after it has stood awhile and been reheated.' Cathy leaves a pound tip as they exit the restaurant.

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'We can drop her off in Westbourne and she can see if Waitrose has any and she can get a taxi home.' A slither of a zephyr wafts from the sea. 'Ok let's hit the tarmac.' 'Are you coming to the healing group this evening?' Asks Carl as they commence jogging back. 'No. Alina will have her hands full cooking.' 'Pity. I will late getting home as I have had several requests for healing home visits.' 'You give too much of your time to the sick.' 'It's my calling Cathy.' 'You are too good.' 'I know.' Carl laughs and Cathy punches him on the arm. 'Big head.' 'Hello, something is going on.' Up ahead a group of people are standing around with more bystanders on the outskirts. They slow down as they approach the scene and witness two becapped and white-shirted police officers attempting to handcuff the aforementioned young woman from some minutes earlier. Her distraught little girl is being comforted by a kneeling female officer. 'Someone must have complained,' comments Cathy, 'alls well that ends well.' 'I don't think there is any happy ending to this story. Let's go.' concludes Carl. 'Thank you Shinona for that lovely meditation. And now Miss Yezzie Mackenzie is to give a short talk on the Higher Self. Take it way Yezzie.' 'Thank you Carl. I written out some notes to help me so be patient with me.' She begins in her Scottish brogue and continues so.' 'Apart from the physical body that we all inhabit and are so familiar with there are other bodies that are part of us which we most of us cannot see or are even aware of.' She looks down at her notebook resting on her lap. A thin latter day hippie type with punk undertones Yezzie is sixty four years old and is well-known for buying all her clothes from charity shops and is certainly the frowstiest of the assembled, partly due to copious amounts of dried lavender secreted about her person. Her spectacles perch on the end of her nose giving her the appearance of a short-sighted henna-haired cartoon crow. A black embroidered waistcoat over a floral patterned dress is complemented by steel-capped workmen's lace up books and red and green knee length socks. 'Ahem. Surrounding the physical body or plane is the Etheric plane which vibrates at a faster rate than the physical plane which is why we do not see it. Ahem. Next comes the Astral or Emotional plane followed by the lower Mental plane. There are some people who can see the colours of the Astral plane and can tell how a person is feeling or even diagnose what is physically wrong with them. I myself have that ability. Ahem. There are other higher planes of the Higher Self such as the higher Mental plane, the Intuitive plane and the Atmic. I am sure, ahem, that some of you have noticed, ahem, that there are seven planes and these roughly correspond to the seven main chakras.' 'Well thank you Yezzie for that fascinating and informative insight,' interupts Carl. 'But I haven't finished yet.' protests a ruffled Yezzie. 'Of course you haven't Yezzie but we were late starting the meeting and I know that there are people here desperate for some healing.' 'I was up all night preparing my notes. I haven't got onto how contacting your own Holy

Guardian Angel yet.' 'Perhaps you could continue next week. I for one will be looking forward to it.' placates Carl. She is not entirely mollified. 'Perhaps you could get some throat lozenges in the meantime.' He adds. 'Right then. Whose for the couches?' Shinona asks taking control.' Carl is pleased that there is such a turn out for this Friday teatime session on such a warm summer's evening and that the group has gone from strength to strength since he pushed Shinona to the fore, in effect making her group leader, with occasional assistance and advise from himself, with hardly any strings attached. Sunshine streams into the hall illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air as healers and patients make their way to the three couches or the chairs. Quite a few new faces; the old guard dying off and making way for the new. Brigitte killed in a skiing accident, Derek being mauled by an escaped lion at Basle Zoo. Tom falling down an old tin mine shaft whilst rambling in Cornwall. A Spiritual Healer's life and death is often dramatic. Carl is requested to give two healings, managing to palm Yezzie off on Jean, and at 6.45pm he departs leaving Shinona to close up. Out in the car park he jumps into his silver Lexus SC430 with the top down, slips in a Switchblade Symphony cd, accelerates down the drive and out onto the side street before turning right to bring him onto the main road into town. 'Some patients are so rude and ungrateful I wonder why I bother,' complains Everlin taking a long draught of lager. Ruddy cheeks glowing, her brown eyes sparkling she gazes intently at Carl willing him to commiserate with her. She is wearing a long black skirt and blueish grey roll neck jumper having taken off her lightweight khaki anorak. 'What is it I find attractive about her.' He considers, 'Is it her salon styled shoulder length brown hair that curls up at the ends, her full lips, the cute dimpled chin and cheeks? Partly. Or the more intimate knowledge of her body? The way her tits wobble like jelly when she is flat on her back and I am shafting her vigorously. The view of her fat arse when I take her from the rear. The inch roll of puppy fat that the elastic of her knickers digs into and leaves a red mark that bisects her top and bottom halves. The smell of her body always scented with eau de cologne. Maybe it is her exuberant, outward going, confident, bubbly personality and her simple philosophy on life and uncomplicated mind. Or possible I just enjoy fucking her and she does a passable blowjob. 'Carl. You are miles away. Are you listening to me?' 'No. I was thinking that you are a fantastic Physiotherapist and how much you helped me recuperate with my broken arm and stiff neck.' 'Well, I wish all my patients were as grateful and appreciative as you were. Are. Can I have another drink?' Carl gets up from the table in the bar and restaurant of the controversial Imax Centre that however offers an unsurpassable view of the lighted pier and promenade through the large windows. Below the throng is gathering in anticipation of the fireworks display. Carl makes his way to the busy bar as a waitress brings the meals to their table. They are both having steak, chips and salad this evening. He waits patiently at the bar whilst one of the two serving staff, the spotty assistant manager, indulges his artistic talents performing the making of two cappuccinos, one cafe latte and an esspesso coffee idly

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replaying in his head bumping into Everlin some six months later in the swimming pool at the Littledown Leisure Centre. Her in her black one piece bathing suit and red bathing cap, a five feet six well-rounded package of flesh and Dorset promise emerging from the water had attracted his attention. He had reintroduced himself as she was heading for the changing room and arranged for her to meet him in the cafe for coffee afterwards. He has dated several times a month since. Eventually he is served and returns to his table with a pint and a half of lager. Everlin is already tucking in. 'Nice chips,' she comments, smearing a squeeze of mustard over her steak manoeuvring the grilled tomato and sliced onions to the side of her plate. ‘I like a woman who enjoys her food. Cathy is rather finicky.’ He cuts a piece of steak and pops it in his mouth. ‘I bet it’s not just food she is finicky about putting in her mouth. What kind of day have you had Carl?’ ‘Quite pleasant so far. How’s your steak?’ ‘A bit hot. I think I put too much mustard on. I’ll just scrape it off.’ ‘So tell me what is giving you a cob on?’ ‘A what? Oh. Well. It started when I got to the surgery and my first appointment turned up ten minutes late and . . . . . . . . .‘ At nine fifteen they leave the establishment and mingle with the crowd in front of the pier. Loud speakers are blasting out the local radio station 2CR fm which is coming live from a booth next to the stage, they discover ten minutes later as they slowly edge their way through the milling mob of all ages but mostly interspersed with a generous sprinkling of international students. On stage four scantily dressed young ladies are dancing a routine to a thumping bass and flashing lights. A strobotic sequence causes a furore a few feet in front of where Everlin and Carl are standing pressed together which is a few minutes later, in retrospect, an announcement of two members of the St John’s Ambulance Brigade. For a moment Carl considers pushing his way through the crowd shouting ‘Let me through I’m a spiritual healer’ but cannot be bothered. Everlin says something but he cannot make it out. 'What?' 'I said,' lifting her head to shout into his ear 'how much longer till the fireworks display?' He looks at his watch 9.50. 'Ten minutes. Let's try and go down to the beach or least onto the prom where we can get a clearer view. After a lot of patience and firm nudging they take up position outside Harry Ramsden's takeaway outlet. A frisson of anticipation weaves amongst the chattering crowd palpable to asthma sufferers. 'Is that mine phone beeping.' Carl asks rhetorically pulling his phone out of his leather jerkin. 'No, it's mine. It's my mother. I can't here a thing.' Two rockets shoot into the air from the end of the pier and explode into stars; a green one to the left and a purple one to the right. 'I have to find somewhere quieter Carl. I'll be back in a minute.' 'No. I'll come with you.' he shouts. 'Make for the entrance of the Imax. You can talk there.' They make their way back the way they came to the accompaniment of loud bangs echoing around the Bay and the sky drenched with a profusion of colour. Once inside the foyer Everlin returns the call whilst Carl goes in search of the loo. On his return Everlin is looking anxious. 'I am sorry I have messed up the evening but my

mother is not well and I have to go home.' 'Nothing serious I hope?' 'She is having one of her migraines and I have to pick up some painkillers from an all-night supermarket.' 'It must be bad. Ok I'll come with you.' 'Will you! That will nice. You can come home with me and we can go up to my room. She wont mind.' 'I meant, ah yeah sure why not.' A small supernova of annoyance momentarily gives him heartburn. 'We can take your car and I'll get a taxi to bring me back.' Thirty minutes later Everlin turns into a lane to the east of Wimborne where street lighting has yet to arrive and pulls into the drive of a ramshackle ivy festooned two story building. 'Charming,' exclaims Carl. 'Mother will probably be in a state, doing her drama queen bit but don't be alarmed she is harmless. Mostly.' 'Don't worry about me or be embarrassed on my behalf. I can do that for myself.' He states enigmatically. They climb out of Everlin's ten year old green Mazda hatchback and she lets them in the front door into the hall. The light is on, a staircase ascends to the right, straight ahead the door is open to a kitchen. Their are two doors to the left both closed. The house is quiet except for the ticktock of the reproduction grandfather clock guarding the foot of the stairs and the hum of the fridge-freezer. 'Mum. Mum are you in bed?' calls out Everlin up the stairs. A muffled sound is heard coming from the door they are standing outside. 'Pop into the dining room Carl whilst I see how my Mum is. Make sure she is decent then I can introduce you if she is not too unwell.' 'Ok Everlin. See to your mum.' He opens the door of the other room which is indeed a dining room with a highly polished table and four chairs. Their are two prints of hunting scenes on the walls, an elephant silhouetted at twilight and a large Blues Brothers poster. Above the open fireplace there is a Betty Boop Coke wall clock and on the mantlepiece a collection of small plastic Disney characters. Their are two worn and fading armchairs, one either side of the French windows that overlook the darkness of the back garden. A neat and tidy room. The glass doored drinks cabinet contains a motley collection of alcoholic beverages including Dubonnet, Sangria, cherry brandy, jenever, white rum plus soft drinks. Carl bends down, slides the door open and extracts the rum and half full bottle of coke and a highball glass and pours himself a generous measure of each. He sits down at the table, drinks and lightly muses on his situation. 'Why do I do these things. I should be at home snuggling up to Cathy's hot and clammy body rather than stuck here in Middle Earth. Her mother could be an axe wielding maniac for all I know. I didn't notice a full moon or in fact any moon. In horror movies one is just as bad as the other. Bugger this. I'll give her five more minutes then I am off.' The door opens and Everlin pops her head round the door and smiles an engaging smile 'Let's go upstairs and have a cuddle.' 'What the hell. In for a fondle, in for a fuck.' he thinks. 'How's your mum?' 'The usual. Blinding headache, nausea, blurred vision. I've given her two ibuprofen so she should be alright in a while. She is resting with a towel over her head. Bring your drink. I fancy one. Bring the bottle of whatever you are drinking darling.'

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Thirty minutes later after having drunk two double Bacardis' Everlin is on her back with her legs spread on her Care Bears duvet, with Carl on top of and in her, having a peak experience as she climaxes noisily for the second time her eyes fixed on one of numerous Take That posters on her walls. 'Oh Gary, Gary' she calls out as she squeezes him tightly to her squashed breasts. Carl rolls off her and lies on his back. 'I didn't feel you cum?' questions Everlin dreamily. 'I didn't. You can suck me off Everlin.' 'Ok. Seeing as I know you. I don't do this for all my patients.' 'Or ex-patients.' she adds. Seven minutes later his spunk has had a soporific effect and she is laying on her side snoring loudly. 'Time I was going,' he announces to her well-upholstered buttocks. Ascending the stairs, once again dressed, his hand already on his mobile, Carl can hear music coming from a radio and it is not until he is three steps from the bottom he distinctly hears the ticktock of the hall clock. The music comes from the room where the migraine incapacitated Mrs Kefalas is apparently recuperating. The door is slightly ajar. 'Whose that?' calls a female voice. 'It's me Mrs Kefalas, Carl. I'm just leaving.' He replies. 'Come in I wont bite you.' Carl hesitates with his hand on the front door handle. His curiosity has on a few occasions been titillated to meet this mysterious woman who Everlin has incessantly, fluently and at times eloquently avoided talking about. He enters the poorly lit room, the only illumination coming from a standard lamp on the opposite side of the room and the red glow of a cigarette end where reclines the eponymous Mrs Kefalas. ‘You are off now then are you, now you‘ve had your wicked way with her?’ The words are condemning but the husky tone is warm and chestnutty. Carl advances into the room to get a clearer picture. ‘Everlin is asleep now so I am going Mrs K. It is so nice to meet you. I trust your migraine is no more than a memory.’ The reclining woman facing him the enigmatic smile is slim, in her forties with dark shoulder length hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips and bushy though well maintained eyebrows. She is wrapped in a red silk gown and it appears to Carl, nothing else. She holds an empty highball in her right hand and a half smoked roll up in the other. ‘Do you want a drink? You can top my glass up and help yourself to one.’ She holds her glass out to him. On the coffee table near her but just out of her reach rests a bottle of sherry. He takes her glass and pours a generous measure and hands it to her. ‘Not for me thanks.’ He sits down on the end of the sofa and she moves her feet out of the way with alacrity. ‘What does she want? Just someone to talk to.’ He ponders lightly. ‘Thank you. You can call me Jenny.’ she says. ‘Why?’ ‘It’s my name silly. Do you smoke?’ she asks producing a lighter from her lap and reigniting the cigarette. ‘I used to but I gave it up except for the odd occasion.’ ‘This is an odd occasion is it not? she counters handing the joint to him. He takes several long

drags and hands it back to her. ‘Everlin doesn't approve of my pot smoking. Take your jacket off, make yourself comfortable. Don't be afraid I wont bite you.‘ Carl takes off his jacket and lays it on the back of the sofa and is more comfortable now in t-shirt and jeans. ‘I expect she has told you what a terrible mother I am.’ ‘Not really. I wouldn't say that. She holds you in high regard.’ he lies ‘Awe, fear even. I do get the impression that you are very controlling.’ he postulates based on his innate understanding of the human psyche. It is for her own good. Capricorns are like that. They say they make good prison wardens. Her dad buggered off when she was thirteen and since then it has been just me and her. I have had to keep a tight grip on the reins. Men are bastards, present company excluded of course, so I have only been looking after her own interests. But I have to have some fun. I am a grown woman and not entirely unattractive one. Don't you think.’ She pauses to take a drink then continues her monologue. ‘I'm only forty three and have plenty of life in me yet. Anyway we need each other. You're married aren't you? That is why she hasn't brought you home before. You seem a nice man and I hope that when you dump her you will do it gently. What is it that you do? Oh yes I remember. You area therapist right?’ ‘A Psychotherapist actually.’ ‘Ah, so you are good at getting into peoples minds, at manipulating them I expect. Not that I am attacking you or casting, whatchamacallit, aspersions on your good character. Here why don't you roll one up? ‘Yes, why not?’ He picks a magazine up off the coffee table and proceeds to put together the spliff. 'It's hot tonight' exclaims Jenny mock fanning herself with her hand and pulling her robe half way up her thigh. 'Yes we are having a nice summer.' Carl responds 'Do you like my legs? My tits are all my own and holding up well. I could go out and pick up a fella any night of the week but I am not like that. I have a few gentlemen friends. I am discreet and keep my personal business to myself. I am no local bike like some of the sluts who live round here who will give out to anyone.' Carl lights up and takes a long pull. 'You don't talk much do you. It is probably because of your job. A good listener are you' 'It is necessary in my line of work Mrs Kefalas. You carry on talking, I like listening to you. Do you have a job?' 'I am a secretary at a law firm here in Wimborne. Marmaduke, Dunwoody and Slade. I have always worked and supported myself.' She leans over to the table to take hold of the sherry bottle and when she sits back the robe has parted revealing a glimpse of her groin which he cannot fail to notice. 'Ooops.' she apologises whilst she pours a generous measure into her glass. 'I don't shave my pussy like Everlin does.' 'So I noticed' he says as he rubs his hand along her calf and over the knee to hand her the spliff. He is getting harder by the minute 'Her dad liked me hairy. Au naturelle as they say in Bermondsey. I have to shave my legs twice a week. Do you like a hairy minge?' 'It does turn me on.' he admits moving further along the sofa so she is in hands reach.

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'I am struck by a striking resemblance between you and Everlin being completely absent.' comments Carl as his right hand travels up her thigh pushing aside the robe in doing so. 'Her dad was a big man in every sense. A sailor who sailed the seven seas but always said I was his home port. Till he left one day and didn't come back. Enough of tripping the light fantastic down memory lane. What's on your mind Carl. Do you want to fuck me? Everlin wont hear anything. She is dead to the world and would sleep through an earthquake.' In answer her pulls open her robe to bare her breasts and crotch. Indeed she has a thick black thatch and her tits though not large are ample enough. He takes the joint from her and has a puff then places it in the ashtray on the table then leaves over and plants a kiss amongst her pubic hair. 'Like steel wool.' he thinks. He is in an awkward position with her reclining and himself sitting so he pushes the coffee table out of the way and slides to his knees pulling her legs around so she is more or less sitting with her crotch easily accessible. 'Taste me Carl.' she invites lasciviously, licking her lips.

He pulls her forward so her arse rests on the lip of the cushion and using two fingers open her slightly revealing a tantalising glimpse of pink flesh. As tasting for the first time an exotic succulent alien fruit his tongue probes and licks, peeling her open with his fingers. Jenny sighs appreciatively. He continues his licking and probing slipping two fingers into her wetness. She murmurs low as he tongues her clitoris. After a few minutes Carl has enough of the starter and is ready for the main course. ‘Lie back Mrs Kefalas and prepare for a good rogering.’ He gets up off the floor, pulls off his jeans and pants, as she lies back on the sofa. He pulls her legs open and up getting into a kneeling position again this time with his cock in her cunt and her legs draped around his waist. Whilst he thrusts she moves with him fondling her breasts and panting hard. He increases the tempo. 'Kiss me.' she requests longingly. He pauses after a few strokes, leans forward and on top of her to bring his lips to hers. She responds passionately, hungrily, he thrusts hard and urgently. 'Wait, wait' she calls. 'Lie back and let me sit on you.' 'Demanding women. Ok, but make it quick.' He rolls over and she scrambles out from under and sits on his cock. He grunts whilst she quietly gasps savouring his spasms as he cums his load, tuning into the pleasure frequency as her orgasm ripples through her body stimulating her senses, building to a crescendo, peaking in a crash of cymbals. Her passion spent she lies on top of him breathing heavily as his cock wilts inside her, head on his shoulder, his breath caressing her hair. 'I needed that,' she mumbles. 'I guess we both did.' he says as she dribbles onto his balls. 'Let me up please.' 'Do I have to? Can't I keep you locked up in the cellar?' she jokes. They untangle themselves and Carl casually slips into his pants and jeans and is ready for the off. 'I need a taxi.' Hev takes out his mobile. 'Try Acorn Cars. 873322. I always use them.' She slips her robe back on. 'Will you come back some time?' 'It will be difficult, you know. Everlin!' He leaves questionable answers hanging in the air. Five minutes later he is stepping into the cab sitting in the rear seat. 'Bournemouth is it? asks the taxi driver. 'That's correct. Westover Road. I need to pick up my car.' Carl looks out at the house as the car pulls away. Jenny gives a little way from the lighted front room window and he catches movement from the first floor; a movement in the upstairs window, a shape and a twitch of the curtain. 'Why do I have the sneaking suspicion I have been used!' he says with mild chagrin. 'What's that mate? Had a good evening?' 'An interesting one.' 'May you live in interesting times. That's what the Chinese say so I've heard.' Chapter 4: 'I have been to Specsavers to see about getting a pair of contact lenses. Do you think that is a good idea?'

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'I do indeed Sandra. It is probably what you need to feel more confident and self assured and they wont slip off your nose when you are giving head. So how is your sex life with Simon?' Carl is sitting across from Sandra in the therapy room. 'Any new developments there?' 'I put his thingy in my mouth but it was distasteful. Uh. Like having a slug in my mouth. I almost vomited.' 'Well they come in all shapes and sizes Sandra but Simon being uncircumcised could be part of the problem with you. Today we will see how you get on with my penis in your mouth. Have you been using any sex toys or appliances like I recommended or pleasuring yourself in the bathroom?' 'No. I feel so guilty feeling myself on my own and Simon doesn't want to plat sex games with toys. He's a dead loss.' 'Yes. I agree. You see Sandra the problem is not you but the relationship you are in. I am sure you love Simon as much as you love Jesus and the idea of sex with Jesus would be anathema to you and hence it is a problem with Simon. Not that you hold him in such high regard but you did meet in church and many of your activities are church based, The problem for me is how important is sex to you as a leisure and pleasure activity? You have sublimated your sexual energy, what you have considered to be negative, unclean and ungodly, to spiritual matters much like nuns and priests do but without their support system and way of life. You realise now that you want more sexual fulfilment in your life and I can help you with that but it is not without it's price above and beyond the financial considerations. Once you open this Pandora's Box who knows where it might lead. I am not here to take your money but to help you Sandra.' 'You are frightening me now.' She chews the nail of her little finger of her right hand apprehensively. 'As your therapist I have a duty of care and responsibility not only to help you but to caution as well.' She considers his weighty words for thirty seconds. 'I'll do whatever you want, whatever it takes.' 'What it takes Sandra is to peel away the skins of the onion that is you to find and explore your sexual self. A path of self discovery. Now move the table out of the way, unzip me and see what you can do with that mouth of yours.' He leans back in his swivel chair. 'Undo your hair, take your glasses off and loosen up the blouse.' Carl directs. It takes her five minutes before she gets the hang of using her fingers and mouth to fellatio and another five till Carl judges she is enjoying it sufficiently enough for him to come. She pulls out a tissue from the box on the table and spits into it. 'You are learning fast Sandra. A good student.' Commends Carl. 'Well I do have six O levels and was top of my class in Religious Studies. I can recite the twenty third psalm in my sleep.' 'That must come in handy, he says standing up and zipping up his fly. 'You are still at the Portman right?' 'Yes. Why?' she replies with a degree of uncertainty. 'Give me your mobile number and I'll ring you to fix our next appointment.' 'Ok. I'll see myself out.' 'Turn the 'do not disturb' sign round on your way out will you.' Carl goes into the kitchen where Cathy is sitting at the kitchen table reading the 'Daily Mail' and drinking coffee. 'A good session?' she asks looking up. Despite in being

midday she is still in her light blue flannel pajamas. 'Quite productive,' is his reply. 'Make me a cup of coffee Cath? Where are the girls?' 'Alina has taken them up the shops in the pushchair.' Cathy stands up and turns the kettle on and gazes out the window at next doors fence. Carl goes up behind her and squeezes her buttocks several times before encircling her chest and fondling her tits. 'Carl, someone might see.' He pulls her round to face him. 'They would have to drill a hole in the fence to do that and if they are that determined then they deserve a peek. ' He kisses her gently, just long enough to keep her warm but not on the boil. 'The kettle's boiled,' Cathy announces sounding relieved. Carl sits whilst me makes his cup of coffee then she sits down to join here. The stainless steel fridge purrs quietly. 'I am going to join a yoga group to get me back into the swing of things. Doing it on my own doesn't feel the same as it used to, pre-motherhood.' 'Good idea. What are you doing today Cathy?' 'Alina with come with me to do the Big Shop then we are going over to my sisters for an hour or two. Don't forget Alina is cooking her Polish meal tonight. She has done most of it already.' 'I'll be here for eight. You had better get some wine in and candles out and get Alina to help you set up the folding table. Maybe you can double feed Mia and Poppy so they are replete and dozy.' Cathy looks horrified. 'Carl don't say that. The girls are no bother and you hardly see them anyway.' He gives her a harsh withering look, which softens into one of hurt. 'I see. That slipped out easily didn't it. You didn't need much prompting there. Right I have to be somewhere.' He stands up abruptly. 'Carl I am sorry,' she calls out stretching out a hand to hold him back 'I didn't mean it.' 'Just kiddin on the square, hey,' are his final words as he picks up his jacket and phone from the back of the settee strides swiftly through the living room and out the front door. He parks the Lexus just off Seamoor Road in Westbourne about two in the afternoon making his way to the office of Vermillion Entertainment, a former estate agents. The blinds are down but open allowing only the most curious to view what might be going on inside in the front section of the office which is nothing out of the ordinary. A woman, albeit an attractive one, can usually be seen in the afternoons tapping away at a keyboard or on the phone using a headset to the right of the door and that would be all. The window on the left has curtains that are drawn tightly shut and carries the Vermillion Entertainments logo. If one was to open the solid black wooden door and enter within one might find a couple of young ladies sitting on hard office chairs reading a magazine or polishing their fingernails, or watching the racing on the small colour tv on a stand in the corner with the volume turned down low. If one was invited to enter the door to the back of the premises there would be found a large room with comfortable armchairs, a sofa, a tv and several coffee tables, a selection of fashion magazines, crossword puzzle books and adult periodicals. Plus several more attractive young ladies. To the left is to be found a small kitchen complete with cooker, microwave oven, kettle, sink and a small foldaway formica table. The rear door from the 'lounge' leads to the wardrobe room, shower and loo. There is a staircase that ascends to the floor above where there are two room used for passing trade, itinerant travellers and emergency accommodation in case of catastrophes man-made or natural including the

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outbreak of war, earthquakes or alien invasion. Carl opens the door and enters and immediately is displeased by what confronts him, adding fuel to the fire of his post-Cathy ire. Tammy is talking using a headset with a cardboard cup in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 'I'm sorry sir your payment has not been authorised. Please ring again. Jerk. Oh Carl.' She sits up straighter in the chair and stubs out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. 'Good afternoon ladies,' He says taking in Tammy and two other girls on the other side of the front office one whom Carl does not recognise apparently having just lined up a white powdery substance on a magazine on the coffee table. Don't let me interrupt your activities. Carry on like you were at home and not in a place of work.' He continues into the lounge where there are several other girls, one being Louise of a few nights ago. The two low tables are a mess of discarded takeaway containers, overflowing ashtrays and empty mugs with magazines strewn on the available seating. The girls greet him guiltily. He looks into the kitchen to see the sink crammed full with unwashed crockery. 'Would you like a cup of coffee?' asks Louise smiling pleasantly. 'No thanks Louise. I think it might be tempting fate to drink something from that hellhole of a kitchen. Get the other girls in here will you Louise.' He stands in the middle of the room hands in trouser pockets breathing slowly and deeply. 'Without male supervision women really do take the piss.' he thinks. 'First things first. I want all you girls to help tidy up. If any of you feel it is beneath you or have a problem with this then you may leave now. Secondly I want to know where Tricia is. Or more accurately why she isn't here in the office.' He looks round at the girls but no one is keen to volunteer information. 'Well, has she been in today?' he asks of anyone. 'She will be in later.' Tammy reluctantly offers. 'Ok'. Well get to it girls and I'll be back later. By the way. I do not want drug usage going on here. Its bad enough that you are sniffing coke on the premises but that you are doing in the front where a punter, taxi driver or the police could come in anytime is asking for trouble. Not only would I get into bother but this place could be closed down and you would be out of a job much to the delight of our competitors. This place is a shambles but things are going to get tighter. Much tighter.' The girls look down or around shamefaced. 'Hasta mañana. Ciao.' Carl walks out of the office and having decided he is in need of liquid refreshment makes his way to the Hogshead pub for a pint. 'Hi Leilani it's Carl.' He sits by a table by the window with a half empty pint glass on the table. The pub is quite busy though the sounds of the other customers is unobtrusive. 'Weeeeellll if it's not the Lone Ranger, what a pleasant surprise. Are you sure you have the right number darling?' 'It would be quite a coincidence if I knew another woman called Leilani would you not agree?' 'I guess so. What can you do for me?'

'What are you doing this fine summers afternoon?' 'Giving the dog a shampoo and set. Why Carl, do you fancy some action?' 'I feel like inflicting degradation and suffering on someone.' 'Ooh what a nice surprise. You are giving me goosebumps.' 'Get out your paraphernalia and prepare for some pain and humiliation.' 'Promises, promises. When can you be here?' 'In say twenty minutes.' 'I cannot wait. I feel all quivery with anticipation. Be here quick but take a long time coming.' 'Ciao.' He cuts the connection. Leilani Lovington's six bedroom house with stables, paddock and three car garage attached and a converted annexe stroke dungeon is situated just off the Christchurch Road between Parley Cross and Longham a few miles outside of Bournemouth town centre in a semi rural area. Set back from the road by a long curving hedged drive which Carl proceeds carefully long till arriving at the open lawned area in front of the imposing house. Bud, the six foot three afro American body builder, is flymowing the circular lawn around which the drive loops. Stripped to the waist he is wearing pink lycra shorts which seriously emphasise his bulge and buttocks, has a fat smoking cigar in his mouth and a straw hat on his head. His muscle bound sweat sheened torso glistens in the afternoon sun. He gives Carl a little wave of recognition and continues mowing. Leilani lives alone apart for Bud whom she describes as her handyman and gardener and her Shitzu guard dog named Blaze. Not only she is a successful writer of sado-masochistic romantic fiction of the breeches and bustles, corset and cocks variety but also an ardent practioner of the main theme of her novels, albeit without the romance. Carl first encountered her at the Nippletwist, the exclusive club for sexual deviants and lurid cocktails. He has never read any of her novels though the two that he has purchased for Cathy from Borders she read avidly and has not been adverse to Carl's occasional hints about blindfolds, handcuffs and nipple clamps. Carl pulls the bell chain next to the solid Iroko door and hears a ringing distantly within. In less than a minute the door is opened and he is greeted effusively by Leilani and suspiciously by Blaze. 'Darling, do come in. Down Blaze. Come into my parlour.' The parlour is large with several sofas and cushions scattered around on the deep pile Turkish carpet and rugs. The decor is mostly blacks, whites and purples; the walls embellished by Salvador Dali prints and the centre of the room is dominated by a tribal size hookah and a sofa based on Dali's Mae West's Lips sofa. Not a space for serious work. Leilani is wearing a white robe and is barefooted in contrast to Carl who is wearing khaki cargo pants and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the motto 'Psychotherapists say it's all in the mind.' 'I have just finished meditating' she announces sincerely. 'How about a cocktail to get you in the mood?' Her green eyes sparkle with mischievousness. 'I'm having a White Witch.' 'I'll go along with that but easy on the Creme de Cacao,' he says sitting down on the white leather sofa. 'Yes Master.' She goes to her well-stocked bar puts the makings together smoothly and efficiently and after handing Carl his cocktail sits on the Lips sofa.

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Fifteen minutes later Carl enters the dungeon whilst Leilani adjourns to her bedroom to get dressed for her role of the day. He flicks on the light switch just inside the door and is rewarding with a bevy of spotlights illuminating the room. A beam shines down from each corner of the room and from a central fixture in the centre of the ceiling. The walls and ceiling are black adorned with full length mirrors spaced evenly around the room and ceiling. There is a black Rococo chaise longue embroidered with gold thead against the wall to his left and at the end of the room 'the rack'. To his right 'the treasure chest'. From the ceiling are suspended several ropes and chains, some with hooks, straps or other attachments plus other instruments of restraint and pain. He walks over to the chaise longue where a black frock coat. a white silk shirt and a colourful patterned waistcoat lay draped over the back of the seat. 'Be a dear and put on the gear,' comes Leilani's disembodied voice over the intercom. The lights go out to be replaced by one spotlight beaming down onto where Carl is in place. He removes his sweatshirt and slips on the shirt, waistcoat and frock coat. 'A good fit. She either has an extensive wardrobe or.' His thoughts are interrupted by the door opening and the opening bars of Vaughan Williams 'the lark ascending' announcing Leilani's arrival. She walks forward and stands in front of him. Her long red locks fall over her shoulders seeking to cling onto the precipice of her accentuated white bloused bust emphasising the tapering of her waist. She wears a colourful flared calf length gypsy skirt and red ballet shoes on her stockinged feet. Make-up-less she strives for a rustic innocence but fails spectacularly. 'May I sit beside you sir?' she asks giving Carl his cue to improvise. She sits on his left side. . 'Certainly young lady. How can I be of service to you?' He places his hand on her covered knee. 'I have lost my way sir and do not know the path back to righteousness.' 'You poor girl. What is it that you have done that you think that you are on the road to damnation? And how can I be of assistance to one so fair as thee?' She leans towards him so he puts his arm around her shoulder.' 'I have lust in my heart and loins sir. I have allowed young men to touch my breasts and quim.' 'Is that all my dear?' Carl's hand wanders beneath her skirt and finds another layer of material. 'Nay sir. I have lusted after young men and fornicated with strangers.' 'This is shameful behaviour young lady. What has your priest told you in confession?' 'I told him of my sins then seduced him in the rectory.' In mock horror Carl pushes her away. 'You shameless hussy have you no scruples?' 'I am a poor girl sir and cannot afford the luxury of scruples whatever they are.' 'Are you a witch?' demands Carl. 'I do not think so sir. How would I know.' 'There are signs, ways of detecting the mark of the Devil. Satan works in mysterious ways. I had better examine you. Have you a third nipple?' 'No sir. That I would surely know.' 'Stand up and remove your clothing.' 'But sir it is indecent.' She protests.

'You came to me for my assistance did you not? Then you must trust me.' She stands and undoes her skirt revealing her pink petticoat. Underneath this article is revealed stockings and suspenders which she removes slowly. Leilani's legs are on the thin side and not her finest physical asset. next off comes the wide blouse revealing her breasts near overflowing out of the tight corset she has forced herself into. 'Undo me sir if you would be so kind.' 'That I will.' rising to assist her. He unhooks her at the back and wonders how she managed to get into the corset on her own. 'Obviously she didn't. I wouldn't be surprised if Bud was lurking around some where nearby. As long as our antics don't end up in the bargain bin at Blockbusters I don't mind. She is not the blackmailing kind.' He casts his eyes around to the dark recesses but catches no glinting lense. Naked she turns round to face him. 'Lie down on the couch where I can see you better.' he commands and she does his bidding. Her tits are overlarge for her slim frame but who is he to complain. Her body is the least of her. He sits down on the edge of the chaise longue and runs a hand slowly up her legs to her hairless bush and ringed clit, over her abdomen to feel each breast and tweak each nipple ring. 'Is it bad,' she asks. 'I can find no outward indication of your wickedness which means that Satan must be within.' 'What can we do sir?' she asks hopefully. 'I will have to beat the wickedness out of you.' 'Will it hurt sir?' She asks sitting up. 'Oh yes.' 'Oh please don't beat me. Don't beat my soft and tender bottom.' 'Hush. Trust me, I am your lord and master. Wait here and be quiet.' Carl goes over to the wall where there are several light switches and flicks the strip lighting on then opens up 'the treasure chest' to see what lies within. After a few minutes rummaging within he produces a pair of handcuffs, a ball gag, an ankle restraint, a whip, several leather straps with d-locks attached and a sawn off broom handle with a large purple dildo attached to one end. 'There is a chain in the box to attach to my rings,' Leilani calls out. 'In a small box with the nipple clamps,' she adds. Carl delves once gain into 'the treasure chest' and withdraws his hand with the chain. Having visited Leilani's dungeon on two previous occasions he is familiar with some of the equipment in situ and knows clearly what both he and she require in the present circumstances. From the furthest wall he pulls away a heavy solid saw horse that he drags to the centre of the room. Leilani stands naked and demure patiently waiting her punishment. 'I am punishing you for your own good you know that don't you?' To drive out the wickedness in you.' 'I do indeed sir.'

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'Lean over the saw horse.' he directs and she complies. Her breasts hang down on one side and her arse sticks up on the other. Whilst handcuffing her hands together and strapping then to the low end of the supports he notices that Beethoven's Ode to Joy is coming over the hidden speakers. Next he threads the chain through her nipple rings and attaches it to her clit ring and fixes it tight so her nipples and clitoris are extended at least an inch. Leilani gasps in pain. He then applies the extendable ankle restraint so her skinny legs are locked open wide. She is immobilised. 'Oh sir don't beat me. I know I have done wrong but I can mend my ways.' Leilani pleads unconvincingly. 'Silence slut. You have the devil inside you and it is my Christian duty to purge you of your sins.' Carl is now relishing his part in the proceedings and has a full blown erection waiting to be unleashed. He picks up the whip, a cat 'o' nine tails, with its wooden handle and soft leather tassels knotted at the ends, and gives Leilani's lean rump a few experimental strokes. 'Oooh that's nice. Don't beat me sir I will mend my wicked ways.' 'It is my duty to save you from eternal hell and damnation. Be brave, endure and you will thank me later.' Carl removes his frock coat finding it restricts his arm swings and decides to remove the waistcoat and shirt as well. Thus unencumbered he picks up the ball gag. 'My nipples are hurting like hell,' she complains. 'Open wide,' he commands standing in front of her and when she complies fastens the strap at the back of her head tightly. 'What's that? I can't understand you. Just relax, enjoy the music and trust me.' Carl jesting plays along. 'I'm sure this is a nursery school compared to your usual hardcore activities.' He picks up the dildo on a stick and gently eases it into her lubricated fanny and pushes it in and out. Sweat rolls down the crack of her arse, she mumbles into her gag as she squirms in pain or pleasure. Tiring of this activity Carl picks up the cat 'o' nine tails and gives her a few cursory strokes. Soon however inspired by the increase in tempo of the music ups the pace of his whipping and soon gets carried away thrashing her arse and it is only when he sees the welts and streaks of blood appearing does he stop whipping to start fucking. Trousers down, cock in, gripping her hips his strokes come deep and at a measured pace accompanied by her mumbled moans. When the pressure has built up he is on the point of orgasm and a few short thrusts brings him gaspingly to climax. 'You bastard. You really put me through a lot of pain' is howLeilani greets Carl when he ungags her. 'Get these fucking restraints off me or I'll never be able to stand erect again.' She adds. 'That's gratitude for you,' he removes the ankle restraints, undoes the straps and uncuffs her. She stands up and stretches herself then rubs her nipples with the palms of her hands. 'Ohh they sting like hell. I don't think I'll be able to sit down for a week.' 'You are a masochist whereas I only play at being a sadist. Sorry I got carried away. ' Carl half-heartedly apologises whilst zipping himself up. 'You certainly had me fooled. You're a natural whether you want to accept it or not.' She slips her blouse and skirt back on.

'You certainly know how to treat a woman with needs like mine. I haven't had so many orgasms one after the other in a long while. Give me time to heal and you must come around again and don't leave it so long this time.' 'I wont hang around for coffee and liquors Leilani I have to go.’ He gives her a peck on the cheek and departs. The dining table has been set up in the spacious lounge for this evenings special meal with places set for four. A ten and a half inch ivory church candle burns playfully in the centre of the table when Carl joins the ladies who have already opened a second bottle of red wine. Alina's friend Jolanta from the same town in Poland is a guest. Alina's friend Jolanta from the same town in Poland is a guest. 'They didn't have any polish wine in the off license so I bought vodka' announces Carl giving Cathy a peck on the cheek before sitting at the table. 'Sorry I'm late' he adds as an after thought. 'Have you been working hard Mr Carl?' asks Alina mischievously. 'Not as hard as you have been working in the kitchen Alina but thanks for your concern.' He pours a glass of wine and notices the ballady folk music issuing forth from the stereo. He cannot quite make out the words. ‘Ah. Polish music.’ A smile of enlightenment illuminates his face. ‘So. Stanislaw Sojka. He is very popular with my mother and her friends in Poland. He reminds me of home.’ Clarifies Alina. ‘Jolanta likes him also.’ Jolanta has short brown hair, is stockily built with a manly air about her, however her smile is open displaying her gleaming even teeth. Her dangly scimitar earrings glimmer in the candlelight and room lamps. Carl gazes into her blue eyes a few seconds longer than is polite or comfortable, constructing images of her and Alina on a bed and what they might get up to together. She turns her eyes away. 'Carl don't stare,' admonishes Cathy 'Alina is going to give a pre-dinner speech. Not so much a speech but more of an introductory talk.' 'What, to a stew? Take it away Alina dear.' Carl pours himself a glassful of wine. 'Thank you my friends.' She rises from her chair slowly and unsteadily obviously having imbibed a little too much. Face flushed and eyes shining she leans heavily on the table. 'This meal, named Bigos, is very special in my home country. It is how you say our national dish like fish and chips and roast beef and Yorkshire puddings are to you English. It is much admired in our famous big poem Pan Tadeusz which we all study in school. It is has sauerkraut in, different meats and vegetables and is much tasty.' She sits down heavily. 'Thank you Alina. You stay where you are and I will bring in the dish.' 'First a toast is appropriate I think.' states Carl rising and lifting his glass. 'To peace and cordiality between two great nations, Britain and Poland, and hoping close interpersonal relationships will continue and thrive.' The ladies remain seated but raise their glasses. 'Na zdrowie.' toasts Carl. 'Na zdrowie.' repeat the girls. Will you help me Carl?' They go into the kitchen where a large saucepan sits upon the hob bubbling away and emitting wisps of steam. Four high sided soup bowls await on the oak table

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'How much has Alina had to drink? If she has much more she will throw up.' Carl does not conceal his disapproval. 'Her and her friend spent the afternoon in the pub apparently.' Cathy informs him. 'Let's eat and cut the evening short and have an early night.' He suggests. 'Good idea. There is rye bread in the fridge to accompany the meal if you bring it in on a plate. And the dishes. I'll bring the stew. And don't forget a ladle.' 'Yes Madam.' Carl lies on his back with Cathy's fanny in his face as she sucks furiously on his recalcitrant cock urging him towards orgasm with thumb and middle finger. He feels, not for the first time, a hint of a sense of guilt, considers that she has conjugal rights as much as he does, that to deny her his spurting spunk inside her is a betrayal of the tenth magnitude. 'I'll make it up to her.' he vows. 'It must be due time soon for her to be pregnant again.' 'Cathy let's take a break' he calls out having edged his mouth away from her vulva. 'Why? I was enjoying sucking on your lollipop.' She climbs off him reluctantly. 'I need a pee that's why. Start the dvd again whilst I'm gone.' 'Where are you going?' 'I am popping down to get that bottle of Krolewska vodka that cost me twenty quid.' 'Put some clothes on then.' Thirty minutes later the credits of Oceans 12 roll on interminably. 'What a load of crap. The cast of this piffle ought to hang their heads in shame in for participating in this tedious drivel.' 'It wasn't that bad.' protests Cathy. 'I realise now that actors and prostitutes have much in common. They will sell themselves to anyone if the price is right.' 'That's rather harsh Carl. I think your judgement might be impaired by the copious amounts of vodka you have knocked back.' 'Rubbish. My intellectual and rr rational reasoning faculties have not been impaired in the slightest. 'I hope Alina is not throwing up on the bathroom set Abi gave us.' 'She will be alright. She has Jolanta to look after her. Don't worry about her, it's me you need to look after.' 'How can I please my lord and master?' she asks seductively. ‘Well you can continue sucking for starters then when I’m hard sit on it and ride me to orgasm.’ ‘We wouldn’t want you to over-exert yourself would we’ comments Cathy rhetorically, wrapped in a vine leaf of sarcasm, peppered with a smidgen of resignation. ‘We should have a family day out tomorrow.’ suggests Carl as she slurps dutifully on his tool. Cathy mumbles in agreement. ‘Let’s catch the train to London, walk the Embankment to the Tate Modern and cross the Millenium Bridge. Kids are never too young to appreciate art and Alina can have her cultural horizons broadened. Jolanta can tag along if she wants.’ Cathy slurps her assent as he comes in her mouth.

Chapter 5: Carl walks into the kitchen to be greeted by the aroma of frying onions. Cathy has her back to him standing at the hob. 'That smells nice. What's for dinner?' He wraps her arms around her chest and kisses her on the left ear and pulls her round to face him. 'Careful I have a spatulate in my hand/' 'Ohh I'm scared.' He kisses her on the lips. 'Don't Carl. I'm all greasy.' 'I'll lick it off for you then.' 'Don't be disgusting. What are you doing here anyway.' 'I live here. Shall I make you a cup of coffee?' 'If you are having one. We are having liver, bacon and onions with mashed potato, sweetcorn, carrots and sweet potato.' 'With lashings of gravy I hope.' 'Of course.' She is dressed casually in jeans and an off white top with a fruits of the sea apron tied at the waist.' Carl turns on the fast heating kettle and quickly makes two cups of coffee, sits at the oak table and lights a cigarette. 'Are you smoking again?' Cathy sits down opposite him. 'It looks like it. What have you been up to today?' 'Abi took me to the leisure centre she goes to for a yoga class this afternoon. It was very interesting.' 'What you learnt some new positions?' 'No. I met the author of those books you gave me. The Leilani Lovington ones. She was there today. She's a regular member. She was wonderful.' 'How do you know? Who introduced you?' 'Mother. She knows everyone.' 'And everything no doubt.' 'What do you mean?' 'Nothing. I was just being sarcastic.' 'Anyway we had a Smoothie in the salad bar and we were chatting. She is really interesting; weird but interesting. It must be synchronicity like you are always talking about.' 'I would imagine she is. I don't know about meaningful coincidence though' Carl sips his coffee and drags on his cigarette. 'More like meaningful ill intent.' he thinks. 'Did you go to visit Petra? he asks finding the opportunity to change the subject. 'This morning. We had a nice chat. She had a proposition to put to me. Sort of. She wants to open up a good quality second hand clothes shop with some money her uncle left her in his will and sounded me out about getting involved in the project. Use my financial expertise and help out in the shop occasionally. I think the onions need turning over.' She gets up and moves to the stove. 'What was your response?' He stubs out his cigarette. 'I said I would have to think about it. I am pretty busy with the girls, running the house, the accounts I handle, keeping an eye on Alina and looking after my favourite man.' 'Well if you have he time do it. If you think Alina is more hindrance than help then replace her.'

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'She is not that bad. It is her attitude. I don't know. It's like she thinks she can get by in the world just by looking sexy and acting dumb. I suppose I resent her. Life seems to easy for her.' 'Mmm.' 'Is that all you can say?' 'I wouldn't trade you for the world Cath. I love you and that is the main thing. Where are Alina and the girls anyway.' 'She took them to the park. They should be back soon. Petra says you should give Doug a ring.' 'I will. I'm going up for a shower then we can eat before the kids get back.' 'That will be nice. Carl emerges from the shower and rings the office number which is answered by Louise. 'So you are manning the phones today Louise. Where is Tricia?' 'She hasn't been in for a few days but she did ring earlier saying she was seeing the Clap Doctor this afternoon.' 'That lazy bitch is taking the piss.' 'I don't know about that. It is not for me to say.' 'Yes, quite right. Not on the phone where the other girls can hear anyway. How do you like answering the phone and taking bookings via the website?' 'I like it fine.' 'Good show. See you soon. Ciao.' He disconnects and calls another number. 'Hello Sandra.' 'Who is that?' 'It's Carl. Are you having a busy day?' 'I, I have just finished work. Why?' 'It is time we moved onto the final session of your therapy. I want to meet you this evening. I'll pick you up outside your kebab shop at nine. If you have to make excuses say you are meeting a girlfriend from work.' 'I, I don't know if I can. Simon will be suspicious.' 'Ok well don't bother with subterfuge. Just tell him you have a late an appointment with your therapist. This is important to you so please be there. I have your address. Till later. Bye.' Carl breathes a sigh of anticipation that glosses over his earlier annoyance. 'What goes around comes around.' 'Where are we going?' 'Trust Sandra, trust. Tonight will be a night you will never forget and for which you will be eternally grateful. Or hateful.' Not much conversation passes between the two of then during the ten minute car ride. He drives under the railway bridge and into the park and shortly turns off into a gravelled car park where he comes to a halt facing inwards three car widths from another parked vehicle. Twilight has past and surrounded as it is by trees the car park is in a gloom deeper than that out on the road though several other parked vehicles can be discerned in the area.

Carl has the radio tuned to 2CR. He winds open the front windows and lights a cigarette as a Vauxhall Cavalier pulls in off the road and parks between them and the nearest vehicle. 'What are we doing here Carl. What are these other people doing here? Is there a firework display going on tonight or something.' 'A display yes. Take your bra and knickers off Sandra and put them in the glove compartment.' 'What now but . .' 'Sandra please. Do not ask questions. Do not speak unless I ask you a question that requires an answer. Just trust me and do as I say without reservation. Can you do that? If not then I might as well take you home now. Are you in or are you out? Yes or no?' A couple in the adjacent car climb out and move away. 'Yes.' She looks at him and he can see by her expression she will comply. Wearing her new contact lenses gives a sparkle to her eyes. Several more car doors slam. He nods and she pulls her red top over her head and removes her bra, quickly putting the top back on. She shyly pulls her knickers out of her knee length grey skirt and deposits then where instructed. A car pulls up on Carl's right. 'Let's go see what is going on.' Carl is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Sandra slips on a cardigan. A half dozen people are standing around a black Ford Focus which is lit from within. Two couples and two solitary males. The night sky is black with pin point pricks of illumination, a half moon hangs benignly in the sky emanating interested approval. A not unattractive naked forty something blonde straddles a bald, extremely hirsute man's cock in the back seat of the vehicle with gusto. He fondle the cheeks of her arse as she writhes on his manhood, the stake of her passion, both occasionally checking with the audience for approval. The audience are quiet though a current of nervous energy passes in, between and around them. Sandra's reaction is one of embarrassment and fascination though she cannot turn her eyes away. 'I'll give them five. What about you?' whispers Carl in her ear. She swallows hard and manages to choke out 'a six.' The Vauxhall Cavalier couple, both in their late twenties, enter into conversation with each other briefly and get into the back of their car. Several more people become bystanders as the action in the Ford Focus comes to a climax. 'It looks like the second act is about to begin. Let us go back to my car I forgot my cigarettes. You don't smoke do you?' 'I do tonight.' They sit smoking in the front seats, Carl relaxed and Sandra agitated, her face flushed. She stubs her butt out in the ashtray leans towards Carl and kisses him. He responds and her hand moves down to his crotch.

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'Out you get.' Carl instructs opening his door and climbing out and coming around to the passenger side. A small crowd has gathered round the Vauxhall looking at the activity within. Carl takes her by the hand and leads her round to the other side to look into the back of the car where the young woman is spreadeagled on her back with her right leg resting on the back of the drivers seat and the other in the rear window well whilst her beau thrusts mightily between her thighs. All the windows are open, the couple employing an array of sound effects and copious amounts of lubrication. Carl edges Sandra up close to the window so nothing is lost on her. Next to them a middleaged man has his penis out and is masturbating. Standing to the rear of Sandra he wraps his arms around her and begins feeling her tits and pressing his crotch against her backside. His hands wander over and then up her top, cupping and caressing, stroking and squeezing. The activity in the car becomes frenetic and very vocal. Carl desists the fondling of Sandra's tits and proceeds stroking and squeezing her buttocks over her skirt and pulls it up. 'Lean forward against the car.' he commands. She has no qualms now about doing his bidding feeling a barely constrained excitement suffusing her whole body. A car stereo bursts into life pulsating out the pounding bass of a hard core dance music track. The masturbator urges the man in the Vauxhall to give the woman ' a good seeing to,' as fast as furiously he brings himself to orgasm. Sandra's skirt is up around her waist as Carl firstly slips several fingers into her cunt to ease the way, then unzips and gripping hold of her hips shoves his cock into her tight pussy. She gasps with pleasure, with relief. The couple in the Vauxhall increase the decibels as their performance comes to a mutually satisfactory conclusion. Carl thrusts in a slow rhythm looking around and noting that they are now the centre of attention. Sandra has lost her self-consciousness as she rocks in time with his motion, tuning into the sensations her body is producing. The man pokes his head out from the rear of the Vauxhall and calls out unnecessarily loud to ‘use the bonnet if you want mate.’ to which Carl raises a hand in acknowledgement. he withdraws and leads Sandra in her dishevelled state round to the front of the car and tells her to get onto the bonnet of the car. ‘Hitch your skirt up and lie back,’ he adds. It is dark now, the only sources of illumination coming from the pools of light in a few vehicles. Some one produces a torch as the small group of twelve assemble round. Carl pulls out a packet of condoms, unzips and slides one over his erect penis then pulls down his jeans and pulls Sandra down onto his cock as he leans over her supporting his weight on his hands. ‘Ah, ah, ah, ah.’ she responds to his strokes fondling her breasts as she gazes up into the night sky wondering if this is heaven. The crowd become robust in their vocal encouragements. Indefatigable as ever Carl keeps a steady pace. ‘Someone feel my tits.’ implores Sandra and willing hands reach out on either side to grasp, a man on the left and a woman on her right. ‘She is getting a right royal treatment.’ comments the masturbator. ‘Fuck me I never thought this would be so much fun.’ announces an elderly gentleman. ‘Better than those videos you buy,‘ agree his equally elderly companion. Several minutes of steady fucking and Sandra has reached the ‘oh my god.’ stage as she experiences that which has been denied all her life, an orgasm. Carl grunts and executes a series of short sharp thrusts and reaches orgasm then withdraws. 'More, more.' she gasps.

'Whose next.' asks Carl stepping away. 'Cheers mate.' says one of two teenagers stepping forward. 'Ok Sandra. You'll need this.' handing the youth a condom. Carl removes his condom and puts it into the nearby bin, zips up and smokes two cigarette as Sandra is put through her paces being serviced by a further man with encouragement from his wife. 'It has cost her £750 to realise that her husband is the problem not her. What she does with this new found knowledge is up to her. I have done my part by bringing her to this awareness. Time to call a halt to the proceedings.' Muses Carl. 'Ok Sandra get up now.' He helps her down off the bonnet of the car. She is disorientated as if in a hyped up drug induced trance, barely aware of her surroundings, floating in the aftermath of her three orgasms. Carl leads her away to a smattering of applause and calls for a return match. After a brandy, two espressos coffees and three cigarettes Sandra is sufficiently calm to enable Carl to drive her home. ‘I suggest you go in and have a nice hot relaxing bath followed by a mug of cocoa and snuggle up into bed. Don’t talk to Simon about what has happened tonight but leave it till another time if I were you. That’s it then Sandra. My job is done I think. Good luck and good night.’ She steps out of the car once again in her underwear. ‘I’ll expect to receive your cheque in the post by the end of the week,’ are Carl’s parting words. Carl parks the Lexus on the double yellow lines outside Vermillion at one fifty five on this overcast Wednesday afternoon. He is not in a good mood having had a sleepless night due to Mia being sick in the night and spending several hours in the doctors surgery waiting for a free slot. Tiredness and worry has worked its way into the muscles and fibres of his limbs and he feels heavy and weighted down though the doctors diagnosis of a minor tummy upset is gradually lifting the cloud that has followed him around since one 'o' clock this morning. He has arranged to meet Tricia in the office to confront her about her recent activities and to put a stop to her dilatory work ethic of late. He enters the office to find Louise at the computer and phones desks busy reading emails with the headset on. 'Hi Louise. Busy?' 'With two conferences in town the phone has been going non-stop plus the parties that have pre-booked.' The striped red and yellow top emphasises her big bust her, glossy black hair an invitation to stroke. Carl parks his backside on a desk. 'You ever done any modelling Louise?' 'I did some photo shoots a few years back. Page three?' 'The Sun.' 'Motor Mechanics Monthly.' 'You certainly have the, uh.' 'Tits? She smiles broadly. 'Personality and charisma I was going to say.' He returns her smile. 'You should smile more often. It suits you. You are too serious.' 'You think so eh. Is Tricia here yet?'

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'Tricia! No, should she be?' 'Who's in the back?' 'Sam. Veronica. Francine. They have jobs booked for later. And Liezel who is looking for a job. She's from Switzerland so she says. 'Ok, I'll look her over then send her out and you can take a contact number to arrange an audition. What have you on today?' 'I've a date at seven. And a double with Sam at nine.' 'Who is covering for you?' 'Tamsin.' 'You don't mind doing the bookings?' 'It's fifty quid an hour so why should I?' 'Just checking. So you wouldn't mind doing it on a full time basis?' 'It wouldn't be a problem. I thought that was Tricia's kingdom.' 'It was. Send her in the back when she arrives. Where's the tv gone?' 'The girls have it on in the back.' 'Talk to you later. On second thoughts when she arrives come in with her.' After twenty seven minutes of chatting to Veronica, Francine and Sam, leafing through several anime magazines, drinking a cup of coffee, smoking a cigarette and searching for the copulating couple in a Magic Eye 3D jungle poster Carl has grown impatient for the arrival of Tricia. Veronica, in her mid-forties, a part-time Care Assistant, married with a grown up son, is still solving her Mirror crossword puzzle and sitting next to Francine on the sofa to the right of Carl who is sitting in an armchair with a view of the kitchen sink, the door to the front office on his left. Whereas Veronica is attractive, short, slim, white and athletic Francine is an attractive large black lady in her early thirties who stands sixty eight inches tall, weighs in at one hundred and eighty two pounds with a bust size of thirty eight inches, waist thirty four and hips forty six. Not recommended for the frail or those in poor health rather for those who like a good physical work out. Carl has gone several rounds with her in the past year and found her to be a formidable but stimulating challenge whereas his one off Veronica experience was reminiscent of an encounter with a demented marionette on speed. It takes all kinds to satisfy the buying public. Then Tricia arrives, without a fanfare, unconcerned apparently by her tardiness, eating a burger in a bun. 'Oh you are here already Carl. You are early. I'll just make myself a cup of coffee. I'm parched. Then we can talk. Hi girls.' There is movement amongst the girls in question namely Sam, Veronica and Francine. 'You stay girls. There is no reason for you to be excluded from what I have to say.' The sounds of activity in the kitchen drown out the tv on low volume. Tricia stands in the kitchen doorway and asks Carl if he wants a cup of coffee which he declines. She is looking drop dead gorgeous in black high heels, white stockings, short black leather skirt, brown leather jerkin and maroon blouse. Her blouse is cut low to emphasise the cleavage. Her smile is open if worn.

'She does look magnificent.' approves Carl. 'I have invested quite a lot of money in her if not time. That labia reduction op wasn't cheap. When did she blossom into a woman with such superficial sophistication tempered with hard British steel. I have obviously been neglecting her for a long time. I have seen her a couple of times at the office and had sex with her a few times of course. My mind however has been elsewhere. Enjoying the family life. Cathy has found her vocation in becoming a wife, mother and home maker.' Images of the Spiritualist wedding service followed several days later by the walking holiday in the Black Mountains of Wales after the birth of Mia. The Honeymoon night in the rented apartment near the London Eye and overlooking the Thames. Her wearing white stockings and frilly crotchless knickers. 'I knew the first time I fucked her way back when we first started seeing each other that she was the perfect wife for me. The sex was crap but it gave me the opportunity to penetrate her physically and psychically. To know her, rather than about her. It was during those later months of cultivating her compliance that Tricia and Donna came into my orbit. I didn't understand at the time how important Tricia was to be. Donna had only a walk on part. Though my resultant injuries were not incidental.' Tricia returns to the lounge lighting a cigarette. 'Don't bother sitting down Tricia, you wont be staying long.' Louise comes in from the front and stands by the door. 'Sit down Louise and make yourself comfortable.' She sits on the arm of Sam's chair crossing her right leg over her left which momentarily distracts Carl. 'I think it is best to be open about what has been going on Tricia and to keep it plain and simple so we. ' 'Can I say something,' she interrupts. 'Shut up and listen. This is not a trial or an encounter group. This is a verdict. You have been pilfering Vermillion bank accounts to support your gambling and coke habits. You are completely neglecting the business and getting paid for doing sod all. This has been going on for months and probably longer. Taking the piss really. You have a position of trust which you have wantonly and consistently abused.' Tricia stands resolutely impassive, takes a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket and lights in with a Dunhill lighter. 'I used to have a lot of respect for you Tricia but no more. You have done very well since we set up Vermillion together and you are throwing it all away. Your part in it anyway. You are not indispensable you know. Coke has destroyed your nous. If you want to be a dumbfuck you can be a dumbfuck elsewhere.' Francine, Veronica and Sam are clearly nervous and embarrassed though Louise looks relaxed and amused with the proceedings. 'You are going to have to prove yourself worthy of my respect or you are no longer working for Vermillion but most of all you can start paying back the money. I want you working everyday from midday till two in the morning, seven days a week. I want you personally to earn £3000 by this time next week or you are out. This is your earnings not including the agency fee deduction. Look upon it as a fine. Do you understand?' 'Yes.' She swallows. 'I have to earn £3000 in a week or I am out of a job.' A tear trickles down her left cheek. 'Do you agree or are you tending your resignation?' 'Am I what?' Tears flow freely now. 'Do you accept the conditions?' demands Carl. She takes a tissue out of a pocket and wipes her eyes. 'Leave your cashpoint card in the office when you leave.'

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'You hateful bastard.' she shouts as she storms out of the room. A silence envelopes the room. Carl lights up a cigarette. 'That went better than expected.' says Carl feeling far from pleased with himself. 'Louise. I have a cd with some photos of Tricia on that I want you to upload onto our site. Choose six of the best and link them to Tricia picture on the home page. Put Tricia on a special offer, for 1 week only. £125 per booking including first hour as opposed to our normal fee. Minus our booking fee and commission she could be earning on average £75 an hour. I want her working her butt off to see how committed she is. 'You were rather harsh with her.' comments Sam. 'You only know a little of what has been going on Sam. I have only recently found out what has been going on. All of you girls have enabled her to get away with this crap for a long time. I have a good mind to sack the fucking lot of you. Clear the books and start a fresh. You are all on notice. Pass it on. You are in charge of the office in general and the bookings in particular Louise. If there are any problems or need advise then call me on my mobile. ' He stands up, takes the cd from his jacket pocket, puts it on a coffee table and walks out of the room. Chapter 6: Bournemouth International Airport 28th July. 2005. Flight TOM 3844 from Pisa lands at ten minutes to midday but it is twenty minutes later that Carl sees the tall, slim shaggy head and face of Angelo in a rumpled dark grey suit carrying a large holdall walking along the outside path to the right of the terminal entrance emerging from the crowd of passengers. It has been several years since their last meeting in Geneva but Angelo has little changed. Angelo spots Carl waiting for him on the other side of the road in the carpark and raises his free hand in greeting. Tall, lean and handsome despite the long curly hair, small beard and moustache some people take Angelo to be a model. Carl walks towards him and they hug in greeting. 'Them bastards they always frisk me. I am a legitimate businessman who owns two successful nightclubs in Roma. What do they think I am? A terrorist? A drug dealer?’ 'A new wave mafia thug in an Armani suit is how I would describe you. I know you and I don’t trust you.’ ‘Vaffanculo.’ ‘It’s good to see you Angelo.’ ‘Good to see you mio amico.' 'What brings you here at this time?' 'I have business in London this Saturday. Nightclub business. 'How is your mother?' 'Bello.'

After lunch in the pier cafe surrounded on three sides by the expanse of water of the Bay Angelo has an attack of agoraphobia and requests returning to the apartment and enjoy some in-house entertainment. 'Have you English pussy lined up for me Carl? I need to relax after the flight you know. Relieve my tensions.' Angelo dressed in Prada jeans and red Hugo Boss polo shirt stretches his rangy frame on to the leather settee. Carl sits down in an armchair opposite. 'When are you going to settle down and have kids? He enquires absentmindedly. 'What for I want to get married. I have kids all over the place. I have the pick of the finest pussy in Roma.' 'Your legendary appetites are still as rampant as ever I guess.' 'You are jealous. You could never keep up with me. You puny Englishmen.' 'Fuck off. I do alright.' 'So have you any English pussy waiting to be serviced by the great Italian stud? 'We normally have about a dozen women working plus a few other who do the occasional job. I recently had to get rid of a couple and Tricia who has been in charge has not been recruiting and generally neglecting the business which is why I have had to step in and get things reorganised before we go out of business. Tricia has had her hand in the till and has to be punished and make recompense. I'll phone her and tell her to get her arse around here. Pronto.' 'One of your Bagascia? I hope she has a nice arse. Donnaccia!'

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'That's no way to talk about a lady. Treating her like that is another matter. She has it coming. You will enjoy her. She can be very amenable if she is still working for me that is.' Carl retorts. Carl feels somewhat put down by Angelo and as always is wary of, knowing him to be unpredictable and a self-centred bastard. However a debt is a debt. What price a man' s life and freedom. 'I'll give her a ring.' Carl phones Tricia's mobile. 'Tricia, it's Carl. Where are you? So you are still working for Vermillion are you? Well you can start your redemption at the weekend. In the meantime I have need of your services. A friend of mine is in town and would like some entertainment so get your arse around to the apartment straightaway.' Carl opens the door and leads Tricia into the lounge. Angelo is lounging on the leather settee dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, smoking a Sobranie Classic and watching VH1. Tricia is wearing a short red leather skirt that show off a little of her lithe thighs, a black button up blouse, an expensive soft leather light chocolate brown blouson style zip up jacket, high heels, with a red clip in her hair above her left ear. 'Hullo. I'm. Tricia.' She walks towards Angelo who sits up.. ‘I am Angelo from Roma.’ He holds out a hand and she offers him one of hers which he holds looking up at her as she stands before him. ‘Carl has invited me round to entertain you.’ ‘You are very attractive Tricia. We will get on well. Let us go into the bedroom and get to know each other.’ 'Don't you want a drink first? Hang out awhile? Carl interposes. ‘I call you when we have finished Carl. I warm Tricia up for you.’ Tricia looks to Carl for assurance and he nods his head in assent. Carl puts another Ozric Tentacles cd player and pours himself another tall glass of stong peach schnapps diluted with an inch of lemonade. 'I expect Angelo will be making Tricia jump through hoops and over bars like a circus ringmaster for an hour or so I might as well try and win a few dollars on the on-line poker.' Forty five minutes later Angelo appears at the front of the hall down where are situated the two bedrooms, bathroom and storage room, with a grin on his flushed face, sweating slightly, dangling his underpants in his left hand. His cock hangs between his legs, wet and snake-like, nearly six inches long in repose. 'Come my brother. She is ready for you.' Carl stands up from the computer desk against the wall. 'How was she?' 'Buon. He Raises his right hand to his nose and sniffs his fingers appreciatively. 'I take her back to Italia si.' 'Bollocks.' Carl brushes past Angelo.' 'Have fun. All for one and one for all.' Carl goes into the guest room which Angelo is using and finds Tricia sitting on a hard back chair at the small round table smoking a cigarette. White walls and pine furniture make the room functional the only clutter being Angelo's luggage piled in a corner. 'Did you have a good ride?' he asks standing by her as he pulls off his polo shirt. 'I didn't have much choice.' she glares at him blowing smoke in his direction.

'Do I detect resentment in your voice? You had better get that out of your system damn quick or you can fuck off back from whence you came.' Carl unbuttons his chinos sits down on the bed and pulls them off. He lies down on the double bed, slips off his pants and invites Tricia to exercise her powers of stimulation to get him hard using her hands and mouth.

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'Angelo's cock is small. Not. No thicker than yours but at least two inches longer. His cock down my throat nearly choked me. Made my jaw ache. I don't like men with beards and moustaches. He has made my lips and thighs sore.' She lowers herself onto Carl's erection, his cock sliding into her sticky wetness. Rivulets of cum run down his shaft into his pubic hair. 'He got down between your legs did he? That does not surprise me.' 'Men do you know. They like to lick my pussy.' 'Did he make you come?' 'Carl, don't ask.' 'You can tell me. In fact I insist. You should have no secrets from me.' 'I had an orgasm when he fucked me straight after. Am I getting paid for this?' 'Of course not. You are on probation Tricia. Climb off, I want to fuck you doggy style.' As Carl prepares to enter the kneeling Tricia more spunk leaks out of her fanny. 'Give me some encouragement. Let me know how much you want me.' 'Oooh. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fill me with your cock.' 'More.' says Carl gripping the cheeks of her arse and thrusting vigorously. 'What, mm, have you got to say, mm for yourself?' 'Awh that's nice.' 'Don't, uh, be obtuse Tricia. About your, uh, recent conduct. You've been a, uh, bad girl and need to ah be punished.' 'I've been a bad girl and, mm, I should be punished. 'Say you are sorry.' Carl is locked into a hard and fast rhythm. 'I'm sorry. Uh, I'm sorry, Uh, I'm sorry.' 'Keep saying it.' 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Uh, I'm sorry. I'll do anything you say to make it up to you.' 'Do everything I say?' Carl slows his pace but grips the cheeks of her arse tighter. 'Yes. Yes. I will.' she leans forward so her head is rested on the pillow, her arse in the air. 'You get rid of that boyfriend of yours and knock the coke and casinos on the head.' 'I will. I will. Yes. Yes. I will. I am a naughty girl. I need to be punished. Fuck me, fuck me.' 'I'll fuck you bitch.' 'Fuck me like a bitch. I'm a bitch. I deserve to be fucked. Ahh.' 'You'll do whatever I say, whenever I say it.' He grips her hips and rocks her onto and off his cock slowly 'Yes. Yes. Ah, ah.' 'Awwwww ahhhh.' Carl utters as he shoots his load, remains in situ for a few moments, withdraws, slaps her arse and says 'that is just the first of my benedictions and you need many more before the stains on your soul are removed. Slip on some clothes and come back in the lounge when you are ready. The shows not over yet.’ When Carl returns to the lounge ten minutes later after having knocked up a snack in the kitchen still in his white t-shirt and boxers Tricia has discarded black shelf bra and thong and is on the carpet between Angelo's thighs her running her tongue up his hairy inner thigh to lick his big as a pair of doughnuts bollocks. 'Breath deeply Chiquita. That is the essence of a real man.' states Angelo smugly. 'If you could only bottle your sex sweat you could make a fortune Angelo' handing him a toasted sandwich.

'What is this shit?' Angelo enquires with a disdainful look at the plate that is proffered. 'Ham and cheese toasted sandwich with mustard. Just a snack to insure you don't get exhausted before Tricia is satisfied.' 'We can go all night can we not Tricia. Just there. That is good. Rub my balls.' Carl sits down in the armchair to their left and takes a cautious bite from the steaming delicacy. 'Can you put on some music Carl?' asks Tricia coming up for a brief breather. 'No, I prefer to listen to your slurping. How's the toast Angelo?' 'Merda.' We go out for Chinese later ok. I pay.' 'You're on Sunshine. How about if I fix it up for Tricia and a couple of her friends to come round tomorrow night and we party. A Shagfest. All for one and one for all.' 'That will be entertaining. You have made me hard Tricia now sit on it if you please. No, turn round to face my friend.' Angelo passes the plate to Tricia who places it on the coffee table. then carefully lowers herself onto Angelo's eight inch shaft with his hands on her buttocks to support her. Carl takes a bite of his toastie. 'Tricia you can bring Louise along and rope in Sam as well.'he suggests. 'No. Not Louise, she's a bitch and anyway who will run the office if she is away?' 'Yes she has the office to run whilst you are having a holiday. Enjoying yourself so much it's better than Butlins. I am auditioning a new girl tomorrow and if she is any good she can make up a quintet. I don't know what it is between you two but you had better put it aside because she will be allocating jobs to you and the more money you earn the quicker you can get back to doing what you were meant to be doing. So you had better be nice to her.' Angelo has his arms round her fondling her tits as she slowly rides him. Carl finishes his sandwich and puts the plate aside. The sight of Tricia being fucked by Angelo arouses his penis and tickles his mind. She needs to utilise her pussy power in a focussed way. A couple of months of being in the front line will concentrate and consolidate her mind on making Vermillion the premier escort agency in the southern counties rather than the shambles it is now. After all I started up the agency to give her something to do and keep her at arms length. That I succeeded in doing. Now it is time to draw her back in and take the time to enjoy her more. But in a controlled way, within guidelines and clearly delineated parameters, that neutralises any threat or upset to my family situation.' 'Tricia looks good on your cock Angelo.' Carl extricates his erection from his boxers and gives it a few deft strokes.’ 'She feels good. How do you like it baby?' asks Angelo nibbling an ear and hefting her tits. 'I love it.’ she says licking her lips eyes fixed on Carl. 'Climb off baby and kneel on the sofa I want plenty exercise. 'Pound the Pacchio.' Carl qualifies. Tricia looks for approval to Carl who gives it with a smile. Tricia gets on all fours at the end of the settee and Angelo moves into an upright position to her rear and is soon into a steady fucking doggy-style rhythm. ‘You are a beautiful lady Tricia and should come back to Roma to work for me.’ ‘What would I do?’ she enquires nervously torn been concern about injury to her internal organs, needing Carl’s approval of her performance and the desire she feels for him with his cock in hand.

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‘You would be a cocktail waitress, meet many interesting people and suck my cock every day.’ ‘I can do that here.’ ‘But no Italian stallion.’ He withdraws his cock takes it in his right hand and rubs the tip around the cunt Carl appraises Tricia’s body positioned as she is with her tits hanging down. ‘Tits are well sprung with plenty of bounce in them. Full and juicy. She needs to lose a few pounds off her gut but she has a nice arse, full without being fat.’ ‘Wilst du das Schmiermittel vom Badezimmer holen bitte?’ ‘Sicher.’ Carl puts his cock away and goes down the hall to the bathroom to return thirty seconds later with a tube of KY jelly. He stands in front of Tricia, takes out his cock and invites her to open her mouth. ‘There you go’ he says leaning forward and handing the tube to Angelo ‘slap this on your dick.’ ‘Grazie.’ Tricia supports her self with her left hand whilst the other grasps the cock that slides in and out of her mouth. Angelo squeezes an inch of the gel onto several fingers of his right hand. Tricia gasps as he slowly but firmly pushes them into her anus whilst Carl rocks gently. ‘Don’t worry babe I not put it all the way up.’ Angelo laughingly reassures her. withdrawing his fingers, pulling apart her cheeks, pulling his cock out of one orifice and easing it into another. ‘You come with me and you will makes lots of dough. How much you want for her Carl?' ‘Twenty thousand euro.’ ‘Pah. You joke like a comic.’ ‘I am worth twenty thousand euros,’ protests Tricia ceasing her ministrations momentarily. ‘When she has repaid her debts and rebalanced her karma I will loan her to you for a few months. Plus 5000 euros.’ Carl offers. ‘What do you think Tricia?’ he asks taking her head in his hands and pelvic thrusting. ‘Its a deal. She one lucky bitch.’ ‘Yeah she is,’ affirms a preoccupied Carl. The men are soon see-sawing, one in, one out. ‘You one hell of a good friend, my friend.’ declares Angelo reaching out his left hand and placing it on Carl’s right that holds Tricia’s head still.

‘Thanks. I’m just about to cum. How you doing?’ a pitch of excitement in his voice. ‘A few minutes more. I am getting dry and bored.’ Tricia mumbles something but neither man understands her utterance till a few moments later she shudder several times as her climax ripples through her. Like a true professional she does not allow her pleasure to put the guys out of stride. ‘Aw, aw, aw’ sighs Carl loudly, thrusting mightily as he spurts his jism into her mouth and moments later onto her face. He takes his cock in hand inviting Tricia to lick as Angelo gathers pace, his face contorted in concentration, reaches his peak and withdrawing cums over her back. ‘Take a shower Tricia then you can go. Be here at, say, seven tomorrow night with Sam.’ ‘You good girl Tricia. I will enjoy you again domani. Ciao.’ ‘Ok.’ She smiles weakly picks up her underwear and walks down the hall to the bathroom. ‘When she is gone we should get cleaned up and grab some food,’ suggests Carl slipping on his boxers. ‘Chinese.’ Smiles Angelo. ‘Why don’t you put the snake away now.’ ‘I make you jealous.’ ‘I know where its been.’ After a meal in the Canton, a Chinese restaurant in Parkstone, Carl drops Angelo back at the flat, goes home, sleeps and by one in the afternoon is once again in the office to audition a prospective employee. ‘Where is she?’ Carl asks Louise as he breezes in and through the front office into the waiting room come lounge in the back. ‘In the back’ she calls after him. Francine and the new girl are smoking and watching the 32inch wide screen colour tv that had been offered to the office by a youthful entrepreneur and paid for out of petty cash. ‘Francine you look wonderful darling. Be an angel and pop out and get four coffees and a box of doughnuts will you. And mind your boobs don’t spill out, cause a riot and get yourself arrested.’ Francine nimbly rises from the sofa threatening to expose her nipples and crotch in a flash before modesty intervenes and she pulls her light blue mini skirt over her ample thighs and her breasts teeter on the precipice of her low cut blouse. ‘Afterwards stick around.’ He fishes in his wallet and withdraws a twenty pound note. ‘Ok Boss.’ she smiles and winks an eye. Liezel is a 170 centimetres tall, fair skinned, slim brunette with her hair cut in a one length bob style. She is wearing a short oatmeal coloured skirt and a lime green polo shirt and is make up free. 'Follow me Liezel.' He unlocks the door to the flat floor above and leads her up the well worn steps to the self contained flat above the office. Entering the hall there is a basic kitchen and bathroom on their right and the lounge and one bedroom on the left. Carl enters the bedroom and opens the curtain and a window.

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'It gets stuffy in here. The room contains a double bed dressed as a working surface with a patterned cover and several cushions. On a chest of drawers are laid out various tools of the profession such as baby lotion, handcuffs, tissues and nipple clamps. A small colour tv sits on the top of a unit with a dvd player on the shelf below and below that a stack of dvds to incite stimulation. A wooden Chinese parasol rests in one corner and a healthy looking two metre tall rubber plant in another. 'This is where I work?' asks Liezel. 'Sometimes you would see a punter up here but mostly you would visit them in their hotels or homes.' 'Take off your sunglasses and get your kit off.' 'Pardon!' 'Remove your top and skirt please.' Carl sits down in the colonial style rattan chair produces a pack of Fortuna cigarettes from his pocket and lights up. She hesitantly strips off to her pale pink bra and panties. 'Turn around,' he directs. She complies. 'Not much tit' is Carl's evaluation. 'Come here.' She stands in front of him braving her nervousness. He puts his cigareete in the ashtray and leaning forward pulls her panties down over her slight hips and lean thighs to reveal her shaved pussy. 'Kneel down,' he says opening his knees, looking into her brown eyes 'lean forward'. He unclips her bra and she allows it to fall the floor. 'Ok, stand by the bed.' He stands up and walks to her takes hold of her arms and raises them, releases them then runs his eyes down her legs and over her feet. 'What are you looking for?' 'Track marks. Checking to see if you inject illegal substances. Drugs.' 'I am Swiss.' 'So they don't have drugs in Switzerland!' 'Have you ever given birth or had an abortion?' 'No.' 'A sexually transmitted disease?' 'Never.' 'Are you on the pill or do you have a coil?' 'I have a coil.' 'Have you a criminal record or on the run from the police ?' No. I am a good girl.' 'I'm sure you are. So here's the deal.' Carl returns to his chair, stubs out the smouldering butt and lights up another. 'Girls have to phone in after they have finished a job. This is for their own protection and to know when you are available. If you decide to go home then still phone in. You are expected to have your mobile phone with you at all times when working, charged and with credit. You are expected to clean and presentable and to see the Clap Doc once a month. You use a condom with clients. You pay the agency £25 out of your earnings for each job and occasionally will be required to do a job gratis. The girls will fill you in on the other details. You are self-employed so it is up to you to pay tax and national insurance. Any questions? No.' He opens up his phone. 'Louise send Francine up.' 'You can put your underwear back on Liezel.'

Francine ascends the stairs noisily and enters the room chewing gum vociferously, a broad smile on her face bearing a plastic tray bearing a box and two beakers of coffee. 'Put it on the table here.' Carl indicates the small table next to him. 'Help yourself to coffee and doughnuts Liezel.' Francine sits on the side of the bed whilst Liezel slips into her knickers but leaves her breasts unfettered picks up a doughnut and takes a bite. 'Do you like sweet things Liezel?' 'Of course. Everyone does.' 'Do you like eating pussy?' Carl asks her. 'Pussy?' she looks at him quizzically licking sugar from her upper lip. 'Muff diving. Fanny licking. Francine has a sweet pussy which she would like you to taste. Will you do that for me?' Leizel looks to Francine who is now standing and pulling down her skirt and knickers. She sits on the edge of the bottom of the bed and opens her legs invitingly. 'Let me see you demonstrate how you would pleasure her.' Leizel looks towards Francine, bites her upper lip and puts down her half eaten doughnut uncertainly. 'Is your problem pussy or black people? Or both? If either then I can't use you. You have to be flexible and without prejudice if you work for Vermillion. Okay?' 'Okay,' she agrees matching action to words as she kneels down between Francine's ample thighs. Carl drinks his coffee whilst Leizel tentatively explores Francine's cunt. 'I like her. A bit of class. There is a place for her in Vermillion. And in my bed I fancy.' Now her face if buried in Francine's fanny and her bum is rocking side to side on her heels obviously enjoying the experience. His cock is getting stiffer by the minute. He stands up and takes his mobile out of his pocket and accesses the camera within, takes several pix from the rear then moves in close to the action. Francine sticks out her tongue and licks her lips lasciviously. 'Ooh baby that's nice,' she croons. ‘Look up at me Leizel.’ He frames the shot of her looking at him with the tip of her tongue on Francine’s engorged purple clit. ’Mmm nice. Shall I fuck Francine or have Leizel blow me. Decisions, decisions. Thank you Francine but you can go now.' 'Oh shucks. I was enjoying that.' She sighs, feigning disappointment. ‘Time for work not pleasure. Off you go. Leizel let me see how good you are with a cock in your mouth.’ With her kneeling, Carl standing and Francine dressing he wordlessly invites Leizel to unzip and take him in her mouth. ‘Normally the john will be wearing a rubber but special punters you see regularly might want to come in your mouth or on your face and will pay extra for the privilege.’ Carl instructs her. ‘Have you lingerie shop card Fran? Go to the address on this card and get yourself some sexy underwear. It will go on the firms account and you can pay it back later. Not so much hand but more lips. Write my apartment address on the back Fran. Be at this address at seven and if you perform satisfactorily you will get paid and go on the books. Slower, that’s it. You might as well jump into the deep end or as Gwendolyn used to say 'a baptism of cock and fanny. Speed it up now I'm ready to let go.' ‘Let Go, Let the Infinite Mind, the Supreme Intelligence into your Life. Say with me. I let go and let the Infinite Mind Be, in my life.' The group repeated the

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words; eyes closed holding hands in the circle. 'There may be a time when you wonder why you am not making progress toward some goal you feel is meaningful only to discover that you are one creating the resistance. Say with me. I let go and let the Infinite Mind Be, in my life. When you stop blocking the good by the way you think and act, you let go and let the Infinite Mind be the Guiding Light in your life. Repeat after me. Releasing all concerns to the Infinite Mind, I acknowledge that what I am seeking is already present. I realize that the Divine Spark is in each and every area of my life. One with this Infinite and Omnipotent power, I receive revelation after revelation of the blessings that are waiting for my loved ones and me to accept. I marvel at the wondrous power of the Infinite--the Eternal Presence that is allknowing, all- powerful, and ever-present. The Infinite Mind is not just a power. It is the One and only Power from which all things flow. Let it flow. Amen.' Carl finished the meditation, opened his eyes and looked around as the group one by one came back to normal consciousness. The large room is in a semi-gloom, the blinds having been closed to filter out the late afternoon sun. The aroma of sandalwood incense wafts on a zephyr across the room instigated by the open kitchen window. 'Thank you Carl for your lovely meditation.' Shinona acknowledges. 'I hope we are all tuned into the healing energy.' 'Bring it on.' affirms Soltan, a fortyish recovering alcoholic and occasional visitor to the group. 'I need all the healing energy I can get to sustain me. Can I be first on the couch?' 'Me too. I'm in a hurry.' states Yezzie. The circle breaks up. The grieving woman chats to the battered housewife, The Big Issue seller tries to persuade Jazz, a nineteen year old university student, to give him healing. The two old ladies discuss how it is too hot and fan themselves. Derek moves in discomfort to one of the three couches still slowly recuperating from his lion mauling several months previously. John and Audrey, two experienced healers, relocated from Finsbury Park are working in tandem on Gerry's arthritic legs and hands. Judy and Pearl are in the kitchen filling a tribal sized teapot with hot water from the boiler. Carl heads towards Shinona who has moved on from her bedsit life of a few years ago and is in a live-in relationship with a shoe shop manager and now runs the group in Carl's absence. 'Hi Shinona. Nice dragon tattoo by the way. I don't think I'll stick around, there is no shortage of healers. Anything you need to discuss with me now?' 'The caretaker has informed me that the management are raising the hire of the room price in September and if that is not enough they want us to move the couches out of the store cupboard as they need the space now.' She is wearing a sleeveless dark green loose knit cardigan with a plunging neckline over bare skin giving Carl and anybody else an eyeful of cleavage. ''What do you think?' 'Oh sorry I was miles away.' Carl gazes up at the ceiling as if cogitating an answer out of the motes of dust playfully freefalling in the occasional shaft of sunlight. 'I have that effect of some people,' admits Shinona unabashedly. 'How are things with you?' He enquires genially. 'Never been better.' she smiles broadly and sincerely. Carl can see she attends her dentist regularly.

'I'll think about couch storage and let you know.' Carl looks around her to encompass the room to bid a group adieu. 'Would you give me healing before you go? If you have the time.' Did she just flutter her eye eyelashes. 'Ok sure.' 'There should be a couch free in a few minutes. Shall I get you a cup of tea? Or would you prefer coffee.' It is gone half seven when Carl enters the apartment after giving Shinona her healing, chatting to Soltan and being pinned in a corner on a metaphysical discourse; on whether the Egyptian Deities are still around and running things or whether they are just a figment of the wish fulfilment over-active imaginations of learned persons; by the forceful and slightly mad Yezzie Mackenzie. Driving to the apartment Carl suggested to himself that he should wear a necklace of mature garlic cloves to ward Yezzie off in future. It seems the girls are already in loco as he can hear laughter coming from the lounge as soon as he opens the door, Angelo is sitting on the leather settee with an arm around Tricia's shoulders and a hand on Leizel's knee regaling the girls with anecdotes from the time he and Carl met up in Rome. Sam is dancing to the lively music from the stereo, 'Nuova Ossessione' by the Italian band Subsonica. Tricia is wearing a simple black dress whilst Leizel is in white whereas Sam is waving her arms around in black thong and bra. The girls each have a glass in hand, on the coffee table a bottle of peach schnapps and a small silver filigreed box. 'Its hard to believe he was like that. He's so, so serious all the time.' states Sam with laughing disbelief. 'Il mio amico Carl. Come, come. I tell girls when you dress up as woman, Bagascia, and truck driver want to fuck you. You run in your high heels. It's funny yes.' 'Hilarious. I see you are becoming acquainted with the girls so no need for introductions. I'm hot and sweaty so I'll take a quick shower. Be back in ten.' Carl returns six minutes later with a bath towel around his waist and a hand towel wrapped his wet hair. Angelo is in the same laid back position though now his shirt is open and being stroked by Tricia. Leizel cautiously nibbles his earlobe whilst Sam is crouched down between his legs with his cock in her mouth. Carl sits down in an armchair and pours himself a drink. Smudges of white powder mark the glass top. 'Carl is jealous I think. He always jealous of my success with women. All want to be fucked by me. Even Carl at times I think.' 'Vaffanculo.' Carl is not amused. 'No wonder I hate this cunt at times.' he muses. 'Ok girls this is not a social. Get into the master bedroom and get stripped. I would like some visual stimulation before we get physical. You will find some toys in the bottom of the wardrobe. Pronto.' The girls accede to his command and stop what they are doing taking their cue from Tricia. Angelo gives an arms open 'que sera, sera' gesture. 'It is party time my friend. How are you? Are we good?' Angelo stands and pulls up his jeans with difficulty over his eight inch erection still fully primed. 'We're good Angelo. Just don't get personal.' 'Ok. Just fuck. I meet two Spanish senoritas later so I no hang around. You have girl friends all to yourself.''

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'They are not my girl friends Angelo. They work for me.' 'I know. I kid you.' 'Let's see what the girls are up to shall we.' 'I bring the bottle and glasses in.' Sunlight slants into the large master bedroom with its kingsize bed, three seater couch, two armchairs, two coffee tables and a ceiling fan incorporating three spotlights. A built-in wardrobe houses a few spare items of clothing. A stereo stack is situated under the large window adjacent to the doors giving access to the enclosed balcony. The girls are sitting on the bed in their underwear idling chatting like boarding school girls in the dorm. Carl takes on the less than onerous task of being the Ringmaster.

'Sam and Tricia let's see some girl on girl action and Leizel come and sit on the couch. Lose the lingerie girls this is not a photo-shoot for a catalogue, ok.' He slips a Siouxsie and the Banshees cd from a pile into the player. Within a few minutes Tricia is fondling Sam's little but loaded body and Leizel is on her hands and knees on the sofa between the two men with Carl's cock in her mouth and Angelo's hands gripping her buttocks and his tongue licking her fanny out. 'Slowly Leizel, You don't want to make me come. Lick her out Tricia,' commands Carl raising his voice above the music. 'Sam's heart-shaped bush could do with a trim' he observes silently. Tricia obediently slips face down between Sam's thighs. Meanwhile Leizel gasps as Angelo mounts her from the rear, the sucking of Carl's cock in abeyance. Carl stands up and climbs onto the firm mattress of the kingsize bed and tells Tricia to kneel up and gripping her hips shafts her commodious cunt vigorously whilst she is busy licking Sam out and Siouxsie sings about 'a happy house.' After several minutes Angelo withdraws from Leizel and joins the action on the bed. Carl turns Tricia over onto her back, pushes her legs up high, her feet almost touching the wall and in a near sitting position he reinserts his cock, bobbing up and down in the classic 'churning of the cream' position. Angelo lies on his back and Sam without instruction lowers herself onto his stiff throbbing member cautioning him to be 'careful with that weapon soldier.' The groans and moans of pleasure, real and simulated, of the girls is a counterpoint to the jaunty music issuing forth from the stereo speakers. Angelo sits up, Sam grasps him around the neck and brings her legs up to rest her calves on his forearms and rocks steadily completing the position of 'the mare.' The two couples are no more than six inches apart in this demonstration of sexual calisthenics. Carl looks at Angelo. 'Is good no?' Angelo approves. 'Yeah. Let's swap over. All for one and one for all.' Carl climbs off Tricia and moves lower down the bed where he lies on his back and Sam soon has a hand and lips on his cock. Tricia has her legs up on the kneeling Angelo's shoulders as he thrusts energetically. Leizel comes and sits on the edge of the bed presenting her moist cunt in easy reach of Carl's left hand and probing fingers. Tricia loudly climaxes followed by Angelo a half minute later. I am the greatest,' proclaims Angelo pulling out of Tricia running a hand across Sam's buttocks and rubbing her fanny. 'I want to fuck you next Sammy.' he announces and pulls her onto her back. Tricia gives Carl a look of guilt, bemusement and satisfaction simultaneously which is not easy. Leizel is pinned to the wall as Carl presses against her, his cock hard inside her on the point of climaxing, her legs snaking around and down his legs, her heels digging into his calf muscles. Her body is tense, her teeth clench as she anticipates the surge of spunk inside her and her own imminent orgasm. Carl grunts his last few strokes out prior to shooting his load, fastening his mouth to hers, his tongue in her mouth. 'Mein Gott, mein Gott.' calls out Leizel as she is taken over the brink of no return. Slowly they disengage. On the bed Angelo is banging away fast and furiously inside Sam whilst Tricia strokes his back and arse. 'Get me a drink Tricia.' he says loudly as he sits down on the sofa. She gets off the bed and pours a glass of schnapps at the coffee table. 'And one for Leizel.' She pours another drink.

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'With ice cubes. Go and get some from the freezer. Please.' Tricia can barely disguise her peevishness. In the vice-like grip of Sam's legs and arms Angelo discharges his magazine explosively with a string of yi, yi, yi's followed by a strangulated extended harrumph. Even a hardened pro such as Sam finds herself swept along in his passion and her pleasure and lets out a mighty scream as she is well and truly fucked. Angelo is exuberant as if he has just kicked in the winning goal for Italy in the football world cup final. 'I fuck for Italia.' he proclaims as Tricia returns with the ice bucket. 'Thanks Tricia. Put it on the table. Now you can lick out Sam's cunt. I don't want Angelo's spunk dripping through to the mattress like battery acid. And slip a couple of ice cubes up there as well. The guys take a breather of the sofa as Tricia licks out Sam soon to be joined by Leizel who sits on Sam's face to receive the ministrations of her tongue. Whilst Tricia and Sam are engaged in a sixty-niner Leizel kneels on the rug in front of the guys alternating between the two trying to get them hard again by hand and mouth. Music supplied by Subsonica. 'We should be camcording this Shagfest.' comments Carl. 'It is a pity I do not have by dvd stall at the Portaportese Flea Market anymore. Where we met remember.' 'How could I forget. You helped me through a sticky patch in my life.' 'A bloody patch I think so.' 'You might be a bastard but I owe you.' 'Strap on that dildo Sam baby and give Tricia a good seeing to.' 'They are good girls, your girls. Faster Leizel. I forget. I visited Kirsten in Berlin two months ago when I on business trip.' 'Oh yes. How is she?' 'She is well. When did you last see her? 'Well. I receive emails from her once or twice a year, but I haven't seen her for over three nearly four years I suppose. 'Did you sleep with her then my friend?' 'Why do you want to know? Ok knock it off girls. Go and wash yourselves up for part two. Help yourselves to a drink in the lounge. I'll call when we need you.' 'You know she has a son now?' 'Yes. She has mentioned him.' 'It was his birthday the week I was in Berlin. He has three years now. A coincidence no?' 'I can see where this is going.' 'Have you not thought that he might be your son?' 'No. not all.''You have never had a suspicion?' 'No never. What is this all about?'

'He does look a little like you.' 'Did Kirstin send you? Or is this a wind-up? You always did have a malicious senses of humour. 'I see myself as more an agent provocateur. A spy in black coat cloak and homburg. Ha ha.' 'More a greasy grey raincoat and cloth cap.' They both laugh. 'I will say no more. Other, other than Terrell her Mann has prostate cancer and has only a few months to live.' Carl lies on the bed with his teeth nibbling Sam's left nipple with three fingers of his left hand inserted in her cunt. Angelo has Tricia bent over and is slowly shafting her from the rear with his right hand fondling Leizel. 'Get on top of me.' directs Carl 'nice and easy'. Carl lies back against the headrest Tricia's face twelve inches from his. She 'ah's each time she receives the thrust of Angelo's cock and his bollocks slap against her arse. 'I'll be round your place at eleven so have the kettle on.' Carl smiles at her. 'Ok Carl. Whatever you say.' She gasps as Angelo slaps the left cheek of her arse. He pulls out of her and straight way has Leizel spread-eagled on her back and is giving her the benefit of his long Italian salami. 'That's nice Sam. Squeeze my nipples. Ah.' Angelo disengages from Leizel and turns his attention once again to Tricia arranging her in the 'churning' position pushing down hard, her feet touching the headboard. 'I never knew you were so flexible Tricia. You could be a circus performer. Harder and faster Sam babe.' 'I already am,' is Tricia's retort. Carl sits up and holds Sam by the waist then slips his hands down to grip her buttocks. 'Put your arm round my neck and hold tight. And keep bearing down.' Angelo grunts in time to his in-strokes whilst Tricia breathes heavily through her mouth and climaxes once again. He however is not done so pulling out of Tricia he pulls Leizel onto her side and half kneeling, half laying penetrates her and with several deep thrusts bring himself smoothly to orgasm. 'Oh Sam baby that's good.' utters Carl as he shoots his load two minutes later. 'I need a piss.' declares Angelo climbing off the bed. 'Come and hold it for me Tricia.' On Angelo and Tricia's return some seven minutes later there follows a further ten minutes of perfunctory cock and cunt interactions before Carl and Angelo are of a mind to bring this event to a conclusion. Angelo says he needs to keep his strength up for the two senoritas he is meeting within the hour but feels he has another orgasm he can spare before he leaves. Carl wants to spend sometime with his wife before or during bedtime but wishing to be the good host agrees to tarry awhile. 'Go and fetch the ky from the bathroom Leizel.' requests Carl. 'Excuse me. What is this ky?' She is nonplussed. 'Ky. A tube of lubricant that you will find in the wall cabinet.' 'Ok. I will fetch.' 'Lie across the bed Sam. That's it. Tricia you kneel on the edge of the bed and lean forward so you can lick Sam's clit.' 'How's that?' enquires Tricia. 'Arse in the air a bit more.' Leizel returns with the item. Angelo sitting on the sofa looks

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at her with interest. 'On here.' he indicates pointing to his semi erect cock. She takes off the cap, squeezes a glob into the palm of her hand and rubs into onto the indicated object. 'Don't just lie there Tricia, get that tongue in motion. This isn't acting this is for real. Leizel I would like some as well. Sit down on the end of the bed here.' She does he says and he stands before her. 'Have you had it up the arse before?' he asks. 'No never. It will hurt.' 'You have to be prepared to cater for many, though not all, tastes if you want to be a Vermillion girl. Tricia especially likes it. Is that not right Tricia?' She mumbles in the affirmative in Sam's muff. 'Perhaps you would like to lose your virginity to Angelo.' 'No, no thank you.' Angelo stands up, takes a couple of steps and stands by Tricia's rear end, points the tip of his penis at her anus with his right hand, lines it up, pulls her buttocks apart and leans forward firmly. Tricia groans as he enters her. Sam strokes Tricia’s hair either in pleasure or commiseration. ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Carl indicates the tube in Leizel’s hand. Angelo is into a slow rhythm of long strokes; withdrawing wide and penetrating deep. A virtuoso performance. ‘Stand up.’ Carl tells Leizel. ‘Turn round.’ He stands behind her moves up close and pulls her to him, his stiff cock pressing against her buttocks. His arms go round her to cup each breast in his hands. You have a nice body and you are willing to learn. I think you will fit in well. Lean forward. Hands on the bed.’ She does as she is told. He strokes her buttocks. ‘Try and relax. Try not to tense up.’ Angelo is building up a head of steam. Both Sam and Tricia are moaning with pleasure. He places the palms of his hands on her arse cheeks, pulling them apart, then uses his thumbs, then grasps her left hip with his left hand and with his right hand lines up his cock. Slowly he pushes in and Leizel instinctively tenses. Angelo grips Tricia’s buttocks hard and thrusts hard and fast, rushing towards the finishing line. Carl eases his cock in slowly pushing it to the hilt. Leizel gasps and tears come to her eyes willing herself to relax as Angelo shudders to a climax inches in front of her. Carl picks up the pace, Angelo steps away from Tricia who now stops muff diving and rolls onto her side. Sam starts rubbing between her legs to finish herself off. Angelo leaves to go to the bathroom. ‘Fuck her Carl. Fuck her good.’ Calls out Sam, vicariously stimulated. ‘Go on Carl. Give her a good fucking,’ encourages Tricia ‘fuck the bitch hard.’ ‘Fuck her, fuck her,’ demands Sam masturbating furiously ‘she’s enjoying it now.’ ‘She loves it. The Swiss cheese loves it really.’ The encouragement giving him an edge Carl pumps her hard. ‘Bitte, bitte,’ calls out Leizel ambiguously, ‘more, more,’ she clarifies. Sweating with exertion he reaches that peak and ejaculates once, twice three times before stopping and quickly withdrawing. Leizel looks adrenalised and shell-shocked ‘That was fun. I’m knackered though. Getting old and out of shape.’ ‘I wouldn’t say that.’ disagrees Sam. ‘Ok girls. The party’s over. Get your shit together. Louise will sort you out when you go

into the office tomorrow and I’ll see you Tricia in the morning. Bugger. I have to phone Louise and tell her the security installers will be arriving at nine and I need to talk to her about your schedule Tricia. You put on a good show girls. Thanks. Where’s that Angelo?’ Chapter 7: Carl sits in the lounge on the leather settee opening the mornings mail whilst Cathy and Alina tend to the kids in the kitchen and making breakfast. He is pleased to find a cheque from Sandra for £400 but not so pleased with the attached note saying 'Dear Carl. Thank you very much for the successful outcome to my therapy. I feel like a new woman. Unfortunately or luckily, whatever the case may be, I feel like a new man, and Simon is definitely not it. I know you are a married man and a professional person as well but perhaps you have an after-care service or follow-up programme that I can join. I do feel the need for more of your special therapies and would welcome your continuing interest in my well being. Please phone me asap. Today, tonight or anytime is good for me. Sandra.' 'Carl, your kippers are ready come and eat them whilst they are hot.' Carl leaves the cheque on the small pile of mail but puts screws the note up and puts into his jeans pocket and goes into the kitchen and sits himself down at the oak table. Poppy is comatose in her highchair and Mia is hefting dollops of porridge in every direction with a plastic spoon. Cathy puts a plate before him. 'Coffee Mr Carl?' 'Yes Alina.' Cathy sits down at the table with a cup of coffee. 'Are you at home today Carl?' she enquires. 'I could do with some help.' 'You have help. That's what we pay Alina for.' 'Alina will you take the bedding from the children's cots and put it through the washing machine.' 'Now Cathy?' 'Now please. I want to talk to my husband.' 'Ok.' She leaves with a smirk. 'You are out so much during the week. You were not home till gone ten last night. Do you have to work weekends as well. You are the boss of the advertising agency so can't you delegate?' 'Cathy, there are matters that need my hands on approach. Plus I enjoy doing what I do. You want me to be happy don't you. I know you do. Perhaps we need two Alinas.' 'No, Carl we need just one Carl who is here more often than not.' 'I'll be here tomorrow.' 'Promise.' 'Promise. Tricia opens the door to her flat wearing a bathrobe and her hair wrapped in a towel. 'You are early.' she says. 'I've brought the day forward.' Carl replies stepping into the hall and following her into

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the comfortable but plain lounge much the same as when Carl had first rented the flat to her as is the rest of the flat. An inside place to store the accoutrements of her outside life.

'Coffee? Instant alright? Or I have filter.' 'Filter will be fine. Have you any cigarettes? A coffee, a shag and a fag sets me up for the day. 'You want all three from me. 'Where are the cigarettes?' 'Next to my bed. Shall I fetch them?' 'I'll be in the bedroom. Bring the coffee when it's ready. Milk and two sugars remember.' 'I don't think I have any milk.' Twenty minutes later Carl rolls off of Tricia, leans across to the bedside cabinet and picks up the pack of cigarettes, hands one to Tricia, extracts one for himself and lights them both. Do you like it? My new bush.' 'Yes it's very nice.' 'It's v-shaped. For Vermillion. Our trademark. All the girls should have one. I thought of it myself.' 'A good idea Tricia. So how was it for you last night? I had a great time.' 'I bet you did. I'm not happy about it. Plus I have a sore tongue and pussy.' 'What's your opinion of Angelo?' 'He's in love with himself. Like most men. I don't like having anal sex with him. He's too big and nearly split me apart.' 'Poor Tricia. Here stub that out ion the ashtray.' 'And he pissed over me in the bath when he wanted me to go with him' 'Did he.' 'Pissed in my mouth and in my face. Uhg.' 'I'm sure it is not the first time you have been urinated on.' He laughs. 'It's not funny.' 'I was thinking of the time that I pissed on your friend Donna.' 'No. I don't believe it.' Tricia sits up open mouthed. 'That minx. She always acted like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. What happened? 'At my house, in the bathroom. She asked me to urinate on her then I fucked her on the floor. 'She's back with her hubby and has a baby daughter now.' 'Mmm.' 'I was embarrassed having to lick out Sam.' 'Good. That was the idea. I was making an example of you. Letting you know whose boss.' 'I did enjoy it though. It makes me randy as hell working with the other girls. I guess I'm a natural born slut.' 'So really you had a good night. What detracts from your retrospective full enjoyment is that you are not getting paid and Sam and Leizel are. I have given you a free rein but now have to step in and guide you back onto the path.' 'You haven't wanted to know me for ages. Just the occasional relief when no one else is available.' 'Yes.' He places her hand on his limp cock. 'I have been neglecting the potential of your sexual siren self. You have changed a lot and not all for the good. You can start work this

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afternoon paying off your dues. Alea iacta est. What has been done is done now it's time to move on. Put all your efforts into Vermillion for a few months then you can go and work for Angelo for a spell.' 'Why do I have to go to Angelo?' 'Because he asked and he likes you. You could be useful to me there. Adopt a continental persona and some fashionable Italian styles and you will be bedding quite a few of Angelo's wealthy and respected clientele.' 'So he is a pimp.' 'Just a service he provides to some of his preferred customers. You will be well looked after.' 'Why are you sending me away?' 'As a present. A gift. No seriously. I want to bring in girls from the continent, from eastern Europe to work at Vermillion and you can be a talent scout.' 'I wouldn't mind that. For awhile. You wouldn't miss me if I went away would you? I'm just an employee whom you fuck when you want' 'Don't be silly. Now get your face down here and do some useful work on my cock. I know you love me Tricia and I have been neglecting you which is why you have been acting out. To get my attention. Well you have it now. It is up to you if you want to keep it.' She looks up from his cock. 'I do.' 'When are you to see the Clap Doctor?' 'Um, Wednesday.' 'It is a turn on seeing you have sex with other men. We must do it more often. I want you to keep a notebook of all the jobs you do. What you do and who with.' 'I'm not much of a writer.' She slurps her words. 'But you will do it anyway. It will give me a vicarious thrill.' 'Where is Angelo?' 'He has gone to London on some business. Why? Do you want to see him again before he leaves on Sunday?' 'No bloody hell. How do you know Angelo? Were you in Italy?' 'I met Angelo when I was down on my luck and he had a stall in a street market flogging pirated dvds. I was broke and needed somewhere to stay and he took me back to this abandoned warehouse where he was living. It was a commune. A sex and spirituality commune. It wasn't just a free for all. There was a leader, Max, a philosophy, rules and instruction. Sex was considered a sacred act without the trappings, restraints or constrictions of organised religion. We were instructed to have sex in varied positions for prolonged periods of time without climaxing. Delayed orgasms, sensitivity training and lots and lots of fucking.' Tricia looks up from Carl's erection. 'I bet you enjoyed all that' 'What not to enjoy. For a while at least. I stayed for four months then it was time to move on. Not all sexual acts are sacred just as not all sacred acts are sexual.

What really matters at the end of the orgasm is that you are entwined with some one you like. I was a lost soul wandering around Europe. I left with A German girl and lived with her in Berlin for a while before I moved to America and studied psychology in LA. The LA Institute of Modern Psychology headed by the Director, Professor Jan de Mandelbrote, two blocks up from Hollywood and Western on the periphery of Griffith Park.' 'She sounds foreign.' 'A Dutchman.' 'I came back to the UK when my mother died. I came back to bury her.' 'You have certainly been around.' 'I had a long way to run.' 'Does anyone really know you?' 'Just parts. Getting back to you Tricia.' 'I'll do whatever you say. I still remember when we went over on the ferry to France and you fucked my brains out on the trip home. I liked you from the first moment you told me to put your cock in my gob. Then you had me licking out Donna's cunt whilst you shafted me from the rear. I like you telling me what to do. I knew we would never be together, a couple like. You think I am not intelligent enough for you. You probably think you are cleverer than most people you have dealings with.' She gives her mouth a helping hand. 'I don't think I am that intelligent. Above average maybe. It has more to do with my perspective on the world that gives me the sense of my own uniqueness and apartness from most people which instils in me a quiet but confident arrogance. I fix my life to suit my temperament.’ ‘You think too much.’ ‘I think deep thoughts but arrive at superficial conclusions, if any.’ ‘I don’t believe that you believe that.’ she protests. ‘No. Neither do I admits Carl.’ ‘Do you talk like this with your wife?’ ‘I used to but not anymore. She would conclude that my thoughts are indicative of my being dissatisfied with our life together, Which I am not. You can stop now. I don’t want to come again.’ Carl has given his prick a wash at the bathroom sink and is pulling on his chinos in the bedroom when his phone tones the 1812. ‘Morning Louise. How’s it going? Hang on a moment.' He walks into the lounge and sits down. 'Continue. They are there are they. Good. Leizel what? I see. Well, we can’t do that as she hasn’t even started work yet. I have an idea though. I’ll get back to you on that shortly. Freddy. Ok. Tell him to go ahead and book the tickets. He can have the pleasure of Tricia’s company. Gratis. Anything else? No, ok. Be at my flat at three. Get one of the girls to cover for you. You can start taking Tricia bookings. She is available from now. Ciao.' Tricia appears in the lounge dressed in a set of working clothes, maroon camisole, knickers and stockings. 'How do I look?' she asks. 'Fantastic. You will knock them dead. You will have the punters coming in their pants before they even touch you.' 'You say the sweetest things.'

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'There is going to be a new security system at the office. Shutters on the windows, cctv, a steel door with intercom and key pad entry system. It costs a packet but you girls are worth it.' 'I agree.' 'What else is new. Leizel is looking for a place to live and I thought that she could have the spare bedroom. She would pay you rent of course.' 'I don't mind.' 'Freddy wants to take you to London to see a show and stay the night in a nice hotel. That will be in a couple of weeks.' Tricia looks at him sullenly. 'Well?' 'Seems my whole life is being organised for me.' 'It is for the immediate future. It's either that or you go your own way. You may not have gone where you intended to go, but I think you have ended up where you needed to be, to paraphrase Douglas Adams. And whilst I remember Tricia. Cut out the coke. You only need money for food and rent.' 'How am I suppose to earn five thousand pound or more in a week?' 'Fourteen hours a day for seven days should do it, with cash to spare. Louise will be handing out the jobs to you so be nice to her and no lip. Or you will have me to deal with.' Carl's untimely arrival home to encounter Cathy and the kids with Alina in tow loading up the dark blue Nissan Patrol SVE for an expedition to Sandbanks earned him Cathy's disapproval when he declined the offer to accompany them. Instead he settled for a shower followed by a bottle of Tiger beer and a ham and salad baguette for his lunch. He puts his subsequent indigestion down to feeling aggrieved that Cathy is getting on his case in recent weeks. ‘That’s not the deal,’ he ruminates. ‘ah but that’s married life,’ he counters. ‘Even Cathy wants to control. I wonder if Abi has been filling her head with such nonsense. I will have to monitor this acquaintance with Leilani situation. In her defence I know she has come on and is tetchy as a result of. Maybe she is broody and wants impregnating but it is twenty to three and I don't want to keep Louise waiting on the doorstep. The sight of her delicious form hanging around in the drive might get some of the old boy neighbours wanking them selves into a heart attack. ' Several minutes later in khaki shorts and an already damp t-shirt sticking to his back in the heat he is sitting in the Lexus waiting at the traffic lights at the end of Richmond Park Road opposite the fire station when a police car pulls up behind him. He casually buckles up to be on the safe side an when the lights change slowly pulls away and within a minute is on the Wessex Way doing a steady fifty will no sign of the cop car on his tail. 'And why should there be,' he tells himself 'just a bit of normal every day paranoia to keep one sound in body and mind. The fight or flight response. Shit.' He hears the siren then sees the flashing blue light of the cop car in the mirror coming up in the outside lane then pulling up in front of him. He reluctantly comes to a full stop, puts on the hand brake and takes a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment and lights up.

At a leisurely pace the female driver and her male companion dressed in their summer uniform featuring Persil white short sleeved shirts and black trousers emerge from the vehicle. The chunky female with the cropped hennaed hair and Ray Ban shades could be a part-time all in wrestler, a dyke or a salve to his suppressed masochistic side, mused Carl. She approaches the drivers side of the vehicle whilst her companion takes up position in front. The tall, slim, blonde haired, good looking guy also shaded reminds Carl of the cop buddy of Moz in Ideal. He has his notebook out and has pen poised in his left hand. 'Turn off the ignition sir and step out of the vehicle.' 'What's wrong officer? What have I done?' 'Just do as I say sir.' Carl steps out, stretches a leg and looks over at the male cop with a 'what the fuck is going on' expression. 'Drivers license and registration.' 'What! I think you've been watching too many American cop shows.' 'Don't get sarky. Turn around, put your hands on the roof and spread 'em.' 'You’ve got to be joking.' 'Is he resisting arrest constable? Shall I cuff him?' enquires the male cop coming round with a smirk on his face. 'No. I think he might like that.' She pats him down and fondles his buttocks. 'Nice arse.' The traffic is slowing down to take a slo-mo peek. 'Turn around. Any drugs or weapons on you sir?' she asks feeling his crotch and running her hands down his thighs. The male cop grins a lazy grin then bursts into laughter. 'Okay Allison I think that is enough fun for now. Had you going there didn't we Carl. We spotted you and I said to Allie lets have some fun. You don't look amused though, ha ha.' The sound of squawking comes from the squad car. 'I'll get it,' informs Allison moving away. 'nice to meet you Carl,' she smiles superciliously. Carl has shown little reaction to this incident despite his annoyance but quite likes PC Tim Denton. They shake hands. ‘I’m off duty tonight so fancy meeting up for a drink? Got any decent recruits in your stable that I might fancy?’ ‘Sure. The Red Cock at eight in the lounge bar.’ ‘Must dash and apprehend a few miscreants.’ ‘Keep up the good work.’ Louise had been waiting, in her four-seater convertible, a blueTriumph Stag, smoking a cigarette when he finally arrived bearing two Big Macs with fries and two colas. She is wearing a skimpy pair of white shorts and a turquoise halter top, her legs shimmering in the sunlight with a golden glow. Carl has little doubt the paramedics are urgently on their way. Ensconced on the living room balcony eating their late lunch Carl outlines his instructions for the rehabilitation of Tricia. ‘Tricia is to be at the office by mid-day every day and when she has finished a job if she hasn't another to go to she returns to office.’ Carl's mobile tones out the 1812 Overture.

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'Hold on Louise. Hullo. Oh. How are you. Get me a beer from the fridge Louise please. So what can I do for you Sandra. I am not sure about that. How do you know if you haven't been with anyone else. Just because you had your first orgasm with me does not mean that you can only climax with me. You have to work at it with Simon. You are quite an attractive woman. Go out to a pub or club and get yourself picked up. I am busy this evening. Look, what can I say. I am meeting up with a friend of mine. We are going to have a drink. If you want me to have sex with you I can hardly dump my friend so you will have to have sex with him as well. If you are lucky he will probably be happy if you just suck him off. That's the deal. Still want to meet. Ok. The Red Cock at nine. On the Overcliff. Louise where's the beer?' Louise returns with two bottles of Tiger. ‘Problem?' 'No problem.' 'I have to admit the photos of her on the website are causing a stir in many men’s trousers' she announces. ' With her on special offer as well I could get her bookings 24/7.’ ‘If 6 guys want to gangbang up the arse all night then send Tricia on the job. She needs to earn a lot of money and have plenty of cock so she realises what an easy ride she has had all these months. No pun intended. If the girls don’t like it then tough.’ ‘I will enjoy giving hard jobs to Tricia knowing that she wont be making anything out of it.’ ‘You and I are very similar. I need to express my mean streak. I don't believe in torturing dumb innocent creatures. Except for Tricia. I do get a thrill out of the sexual humiliation of her I must admit.’ Louise chuckles at this. ‘You're cruel to her. She almost worships you. But she’s a bit thick.’ ‘She just needs a firm hand. I was that firm hand but having been neglecting her for months.’ ‘You got her into escort work didn’t you?’ ‘I set her up in a co-venture. I supplied the finance and she supplied the body, yes. She needed a job so I helped her out. Found her something to do.’ ‘A profitable something to do.’ ‘That as well.' 'So you think you can do a better job than her running Vermillion? ‘I'm sure of it.’ ‘Well now’s your chance. Have you finished your fries? Let’s move into the bedroom then.' Laying naked side by side on Carl's bed smoking a cigarette between them they are about the same height. Louise has a pleasured smile on her face; each of Louise's globular breasts has a large brown areola darker than normal, a post-coital colouration; as Carl strokes the butterfly below her navel. 'What? he enquires playfully. She shakes her head dismissively, her glossy black hair swirling. 'You can tell me.' She chuckles in response. 'I don't usually orgasm with a punter and never when I'm being licked out.'

'Well I'm not a punter I'm your boss and I don't normally go down on a girl who works for me. It's an intimate act I do with my wife. But I did enjoy parting the sweet lips of your dark bushed pussy.' Statuesque and beautiful she is the kind of woman many men dream of but never have, even in their dreams. 'What about Tricia? 'What about her?' 'No I never go down on Tricia. She is hung up about it I know. To her it would be the validation she is looking for. You've been on jobs with her haven't you? Here let me stub that out.' 'Several times. She's either a good actress or she comes a lot.' 'She comes a lot. Men like that in a woman. What about you? 'I allow myself to climax occasionally.' 'Like just now.' 'I like being licked out then fucked hard.' 'What is it with you and Tricia?' 'What do you mean?' she says guardedly. 'You've a little thing going on with her haven't you?' 'She creeps me out. I get the impression she copies me. Like recently I bought a top from River Island and a few days later she's in the office wearing the same top. There have been numerous instances.' 'Mmm. You should be flattered. She might have a crush on you.' 'You think so.' 'We will definitely have to have a threesome before she goes. I would like to see her going down on you.' 'You're sacking her?' 'I'm sending her to Rome on business and she will be gone sometime.' 'Does she know?' 'She knows something is in the pipeline but not when. 'When is when? 'In a few weeks. But you keep this to yourself. Tell me about yourself, your life history. The potted version in three minutes. Go.' 'Ok. So she tells a story of being brought up in a comfortable middle class home. Father a bank manager died when she was ten. Mother remarried. Always getting into trouble and frequently punished by being locked in the utility room. Sexually abused by her stepfather and other males. Hung out with an older children and got caught breaking and entering and was sent to boarding school till she was thirteen. Was first screwed when she was thirteen by two boys up against a wall behind the chippie on a Friday night, two days before Christmas. Started having casual sex with any man who looked at her twice. Looking for love and affection even if it only lasted the length of copulation. Has had one abortion. Decided she might as well make money out of being fucked. 'So here you are. A prostitute. And loving it.' 'And loving it.'

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'Your difficult childhood hasn't stopped you blossoming physically. You are very attractive.' 'Thank you.' 'How are the scars inside? All healed up? 'You can have me in your bed but not on your couch Mr Therapist Man.' 'Of course I don't believe a word of your story but I've got a hard on again. 'I have a boyfriend.' 'And I am a married man. So what?' 'Does my new job depend on our ongoing intimacy?' 'You talk straight don't you.' 'I like to know where I stand. Or lay in this case. 'Ha ha. I like to play the field Louise and yes I expect the occasional intimate interaction with you. Would that be too onerous?' 'No I can handle that.' Carl places her right hand on his cock. 'Handle this then.' She takes his cock in hand and gives him a few strokes. 'Its a bit dry. It needs some lick.' Louise dutifully obliges giving his shaft a few long slow licks before taking him in her mouth. 'Harder. It's desensitised at the moment. The sap is not stirring in my Svadhisthana. Swing yourself round so I can fondle your tits.' Five minutes later Louise is on her back with her legs resting on Carl's shoulders as he executes vigorous calisthenics between her thighs. After ten minutes of hard shafting he is able to, with much sweating, gasping, grunting and numerous unsightly facial expressions, to squeeze out an orgasm that leaves him breathless and Louise feeling sore. 'Sorry to kick you out of bed Louise but you had better get back to the office and see how the security installers are getting on.' Chapter 8: The following Sunday evening Carl is reading Tricia’s notes on her involuntary and unpaid sexual adventures propped up against the dark chocolate leather headboard of the marital bed on two duck down filled pillows, laying on the duvet wearing freshly laundered white boxers and a Grateful Dead’ t-shirt. Cathy lies next to him on her stomach leafing through the latest copy of Heat magazine wearing only a ‘tigers of the Bengal’ nightdress. “Do you think I ought to have breast implants?” she asks innocently. Distracted as he is by his bedtime reading Carl still recognises a loaded question when he hears one. His right hand gently squeezes the nearest cheek of her bottom. ‘Certainly not darling. Small is chic. I love your breasts just the way they are.” “So you wouldn’t want a bigger handful then?” “Only if my hands get bigger.” “What are you reading that’s’ so interesting?” “Just case notes.” “I thought you didn’t do much therapy work these days.” The mental movie of Tricia naked on her knees surrounded by five seventeen year old public schoolboys in various states of undress but all with their cocks out. Her mouth is

sucking on one of the cocks, her right hand is wanking one and another is spurting its spunk onto her hair. “What darling? Oh, it’s part of my parish work.’ ‘You could have been a priest, if you believed in Jesus.’ ‘I doubt if that has ever been an obstacle to getting on in the Church.” “It was nice having Mum and Dad over for lunch today.” Carl pictures Tricia servicing the entire male staff of a Chinese restaurant on the kitchen table after closing time.

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“What were you and Mum talking about whilst you were washing up the dishes?” “She said she can see what a good husband and father I am.” “Really?” “Really.” In fact Abi was blackmailing him to have sex with her or she will get a copy of the disk that Leilani has of him in a compromising situation filmed in her dungeon. Carl had been noncommittal, but had joked that the excitement would probably kill her. A cruiser at the Poole Marina. Two men and their wives. Tricia performing cunnilingus on the women and being fucked by the men. Carl right hand strokes Cathy’s bottom. He has a hard on. “Mmm, that’s nice. I haven’t got any knickers on. I’m hoping I’ll get lucky.” “What’s the big occasion. Have I forgotten our anniversary or something?” “Noooh. It’s that time of the month. Time for Super Stud to deliver his package.” “I don’t know what supplements you’re taking but I like it.” He tucks the notebook under a pillow, kneels over Cathy’s thighs and pulls up her nightdress. He has always considered her arse her best physical selling point. Tricia, Liezel and Veronica entertaining ten guys in town for a Paediatricians Convention from ten in the evening till four in the morning. ‘My cunt felt like it had red hot needles stuck in it. I must have been fucked fifteen times that night.” Carl strokes Cath’s buttocks, his mind full of images of Tricia sucking and fucking her way to the wad of cash she handed him this very morning. She certainly did look shagged out. Her arse hadn’t escaped a few ram raids either. Better than hard labour in the Gulag archipelago though. He took pity on her and only requested a blow job and three thousand pounds. She wearily performed the first and reluctantly complied with the second. Carl had been slightly surprised that Cathy was keen to enter into child bearing again. She is one of those women who bloom during pregnancy and motherhood. He has always maintained that he would like a large family with her. Four maybe five children would be acceptable to him despite his view that to bring into the world more than three is deviant and perverse behaviour. ‘What the hell, I’m no moralist,’ he would tell himself. He pulls apart the cheeks of her arse to reveal her light brown hair with the merest glimpse of pink lips. Cathy is making low appreciative and expectant murmurs. Carl chuckles thinking of Tricia travelling to Fordingbridge for a rendevouz and the address not existing. ‘Flip over Cath.’ She does as he tells her. ‘I feel like a queen tonight. You make me feel so good. Oooh, that tickles. Mmm, that’s hitting the spot.’ Carl flicks over her clit, slowly licks her outer lips. Her bush is recently re-grown, soft, post the stubble stage. After three minutes Carl has his pants off, her calves are resting on his shoulders as he shafts her vigorously, concentrating foe conception. As he shoots his load he pictures hundreds of cartoon fishes swimming in runny strawberry jelly streaming into a funnel, pushing and shoving, on the blank screen of his mind. ‘Job done.’ He smiles inwardly. ‘Thank you darling. I didn’t come but I think we have made a baby.’

‘Oh what power I have over women’ Carl reflects ruefully echoing a line from the lyrics of the Cobra Manning and the Flaming Flamingos cd presently playing as he firmly grips Louises’s slimline buttocks and shafts her vigorously. Her moans of appreciation are muted because her face is buried between Tricia’s thighs whose sighs of pleasure speak for them both. It took some persuading to get Louise to play ball or to be precise lick Tricia’s fanny. The threat of losing her job and the promise of a three hundred pound bonus did the trick though. When Tricia arrived at the apartment she was surprised to find Louise already there and feigned indignation at the proposed scenario, though needed no such persuading. Her will is to serve, Carl, and will do as she is told. Carl made it clear that he wanted them to be the best of friends, like sisters, or else. The fact that they did exhibit strikingly similar physical characteristics, Tricia being more chunkier in the tit department and wider of arse, slightly shorter, helping them to see the logic in his demands. Louise still has her butterfly tattoo three inches below her navel which is an important landmark on the contour map of her body. Using a shoe analogy Louise is a smart pair of Italian hand made loafers whilst Tricia is a worn but comfortable pair of slippers. Dependable Tricia. An orifice for all occasions. He started them out on some kissing and fondling girl on girl action, after opening up a bottle of Absolut vodka, before introducing his cock into the proceedings. His cock slips easily in and out of her well-lubricated convivial cunt and it momentarily considers withdrawing and slipping up her rectum but decides to postpone till later. Conversely he pulls away from Louise and lays back on the bed. ‘Sit on my face Louise. You suck my cock,’ he commands. The girls deftly respond. After ten minutes of sucking cock and licking bollocks Tricia is squirming on the precipice of climaxing so Carl decides she richly deserves the pleasure and release of an orgasm. He gives Louise’s clit a little nip to get her attention. ‘Ow.’ ‘Get the strap-on dildo out of the second drawer down babe and let me see you fucking Tricia.’ And so it goes. With a few practice thrusts and several pillows under Tricia’s arse they are soon into a steady rhythm that has Tricia teetering on the edge, one hand fingering her clit the other rubbing Carl’s cock who kneels next to her fondling and squeezing her tits. Louise is enjoying the power and control of her masculine role. Starting with low groans from deep within Tricia scales the heights and with much panting climaxes with an ice cold wail. ‘You can take that off now,’ observes Carl. ‘Lay back between her thighs’ he suggests. Laying between Tricia’s legs with her own legs wide, her swollen vagina inviting she eagerly awaits his entry. Tricia’s arms clasp Louise’s breasts as Carl clambers onto the two-cunted dragon-whore beast and slays it with his mighty weapon, figuratively speaking. Four minutes later he has Tricia licking the last of his nutrient laden jism off his prick and three minutes later enjoying a second course dribbling out of Louise’s minge. ‘Having fun girls? Time for a drink I think,’ opines Carl. ‘Let us all go back into the lounge.’ During the hiatus of refreshments whilst Carl is freshening up in the bathroom the girls talk girly talk and make plans to go shopping at the WestQuay together. 'I'm hungry and fancy a spagbol. Who's going to pop up to Tesco and buy the ingredients?' asks Carl imperially.

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'I'll go,' volunteers Tricia. 'We'll both go,' states Louise.