Toxicant:

A poison of man-made or artificial origin.

Often targetted to a specific purpose.

- - -

 

It’s been almost a year since C and I met and, eventually, fell in love with Sue. It started almost violently, first by C and I helping Sue enact a rape fantasy she’s had since a teenager, and culminating in them utterly destroying me. For reasons that were, I will grudgingly admit, entirely valid. I just wish they could have found a different way of altering my outlook. But, credit where it’s due, it worked.

Anyway.

Sue’s early 30’s. We’re...a bit older.

We all have separate careers. I’m a coder. C’s a different sort of coder. Sue, it turns out, runs her own extremely successful business making...how can I put this? ‘Discreet, sometimes bespoke, ‘intimate items’’.

When I first heard about this I envisioned some sort of online Etsy-ish arrangement. Boy, was I wrong. Sue’s company is regularly ranked in the top three in the UK for this sort of thing. It has an online shop for normal customers-next-door to order from, as well as extensive contracts and contacts in the adult entertainment industry. She can supply everything from elegant clothing you wouldn’t feel too embarrassed about wearing on a night out, all the way up to electric-mechanical devices you need a trained engineer to install and I’m scared to go near. C’s spoken in awe of Sue’s ‘toy cupboard’. I’ve never seen it, despite asking several times. I think Sue’s afraid I’d be intimidated by it, and I suspect she might be right. Practical upshot though is that she’s wealthier than us by a couple of zeros, not that it matters.

Somewhat to our surprise, what we had seemed to be working. We called it a ‘singularity’, although if I’m going to be fair it’s more accurate to say that I called it a singularity. Mostly because I thought it sounded cool.

(“Why do we have to call it anything?” Sue had asked. “Because this is J we’re talking about,” you replied with a sigh. “He likes naming things. He thinks he’s good at it.”

Sue gave you a Look.)

When it became obvious that what we had was working we decided to pool our resources and look for a place of our own where we could all live. C found it – a deserted aircraft building by itself in about an acre of land, belonging to a small airstrip that last saw wheels touching-down in the 50’s. It was more than three times the size of Sue’s original house, which made it ideal.

When I saw the price of the place I laughed, then rather patronisingly mentioned that it would be lovely once we’d won the lottery, but until then perhaps we should stay a little more grounded? And that was when Sue sat me down and, using small words, gave me a rough idea of her material wealth. I immediately apologised for being a patronising dickspanner, withdrew my objection, and started planning my Christmas list instead.

A former owner had planted high hedges on the boundary of the place, granting total privacy from ground level. A long drive led to a pair of gates that connected to a side road, that itself ran for a mile before joining something a bit more substantial.

Despite all my pleading Sue refused to replace the gates with fake hedging that folded down as you approached. Some days you just can’t fulfil your inner Batman.

There was a large main bedroom with an oversized bed chosen by Sue and yourself, and three individual bedrooms at the opposite end of the building, for those times when two of us required a little more alone time. Thankfully those lingering twinges of inadequacy I used to have when it was you and Sue needing me to be absent for the night were no longer there.

I painted mine black, of course.

I very, very nearly earned myself a week of Enforced Alone Time when it came to naming the place.

“I know!” I exclaimed. “I’ve got the perfect name for it! Let’s call it…”

“J!” you shouted. “Freeze!”

I froze.

“Right, girl,” you said. “Pay attention.”

“Yes, Miss”, Sue replied. Oh good, I thought. We’re doing the school-ma’am thing. This could get interesting! Part of me starts to react in anticipation. I regret nothing, there might have been spanking involved.

“Pay attention to his posture. Note that it’s upright for a change, at odds with his usual slouch.”

My grin becomes a tad fixed.

“Note the raised finger. The smile that’s a little too wide and a little too chirpy. These, young woman, are the signs that he’s about to say something he thinks is good and/or funny, but will actually turn out to be crass.”

“Are you sure, Miss?” Sue asks winsomely, not helping the Trouser Situation.

“Quite sure, girl,” you reply.

“Miss, why are his trousers bulg…” Sue starts.

“Focus, girl!” you shout. “Right – J. Unfreeze and tell us your brilliant idea for naming this place.”

I unfreeze. “Flaps!” I say brightly.

Sue looks at me steadily for a second or two, then turns to you.

“I apologise sincerely for doubting you, Miss.”

Then turns back to me.

“Seriously, J? Seriously? You live in a house with two women and you want to call it ‘Flaps’?!”

“It’s an aircraft reference!” I cry.

Two cushions hit me in the face.

They ended up calling it ‘The Landing Strip’, and I’m ashamed to admit it took me an embarrassingly long time to get the reference.

Honestly. And they call me crass?

We’ve been here for a few months. It’s working well. It’s now October, and the nights are drawing in. Something that, in a few day’s time, would save our lives. Sort of.

It began with an invitation…

- - -

We breakfasted together. I mean, not always. We’re not the Waltons. But on this day we were all up and around at the same time, all of us hungry. For coffee in my case, but whatever. C and I were checking out stuff on our iPads, while Sue was opening post.

She opens an envelope, drawing out something stiff. Calm down, at the back.

“Oh, hey,” she says. “Wanna go to a party?”

“No!” we both reply, almost as one.

“It’s a swanky one,” Sue states.

“Sue,” I reply, “how long have you known us?”

“10 months, 2 weeks, 3 days,” she replies.

“And in all that time...wait. Is that accurate?” I ask in some surprise.

“Yes,” she replies simply.

“Why...er, why do you know it that well?”

“It’s important to me.”

“Well...okay, I guess,” I say. Something deep is involved, clearly. I get back to the point.

“In all that...10 months, 2 weeks and 3 days, when have you ever known us to swank?”

“It’ll be fun!” she protests.

“It really won’t,” I reply.

“I’ll put C in something slinky?” Sue waggles her eyebrows at me suggestively. I see you raising your hand to object.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“We’ve got some really nice new outfits, J. Really easy access. If you know just where to tug they fall right off!”

Your hand is raised again. So is a different part of my anatomy.

“Besides, I can almost guarantee you’ll be the only guy there in a kilt! This part of the world, most women won’t have been in the same room as a guy in a kilt!”

I have a far-away look on my face.

“Oh, fuck,” I hear you say. “You had to go and play the ‘kilt’ card, didn’t you?”

“Sorry,” Sue says, not sounding sorry. “In all honesty it’s a work-thing that I’d rather not go to either, but it’s sort of necessary and I’d like the company? Please?”

“Work thing?” you ask.

Sue nods. “It’s being held by a company that supplies mine with material, and they’re damn good so I want to stay on their good side. According to this,” she holds up the invite, “they’re branching into some new area and have got some impressive sponsorship, all details to be revealed at the party. And hey, it’s a plus-two as well!”

“Plus two? Isn’t that a little odd?” I ask.

Sue shrugs.

A tiny, tiny alarm bell rings at the back of my head.

I really wish I’d listened to it.

- - -

The event was going to be held at some country pile a fair distance away. Far enough that we decided to overnight it at a hotel close to it, take in some local scenery during the day, then drive there in the evening togged-up. Then, end of the evening we’d decamp back to the hotel, probably get up to something Very Naughty, and head back in the morning.

Ah, plans…

The event was at the weekend which gave us a few days to prepare. I picked out the kilt I wanted to wear, sorted out the other stuff that goes with it, and called it a day. Total prep time including packing undies, toiletries etc.: 1hr, 12 minutes.

You, however, spent a large part of the next few days having Sue try out outfits on you behind closed doors. There was a lot of giggling. And other sounds.

During one such extended episode I knocked on the door after listening for no more than, oh, 20 minutes, and said “Need…” I coughed and tried again. “Need a hand?”

“No!” you both shouted. Followed by more giggling.

I bounced my head against the wall a few times, and wandered away, muttering.

“We’ll make it up to you, I promise!” I dimly hear you call out.

Well, I smile to myself. There’s that to look forward to.

- - -

We drive down to what I insist on calling Forward Operating Base Alpha the following day. Well, I say ‘we drive’. Actually Sue drove us. Some time ago, pre-singularity, she’d taken one of those defensive driving courses and passed with flying colours. And, as a result, likes to show off a bit.

Sue’s car isn’t a make I recognise, and not being a car person as such I’ve never really looked into. All I know is it has a dash that would put Knight Rider to shame and it goes like the clappers, especially when Sue’s behind the wheel. I’ve driven it a few times myself, and at Sue’s urging opened it up as far as I dare. Which was about 70% of what Sue could push it to, to her playful scorn. She’s also been teaching me some of her skills and, as a result, I’m getting pretty good at stuff like controlled slides. It’s an enormous amount of fun, and Sue claims I’ve got the knack for it. Wish I’d done this earlier. But hey – regrets, etc.

We pull into the car park mid-afternoon. At my insistence – because I know what she’s like – she doesn’t attempt to slide the car into a parking space.

“Right, chaps!” I say brightly, in my best clipped British accent, “we’re at Forward Operating Base Alpha…”

“It’s a sodding Premier Inn, J” Sue comments.

“...so we’ve officially entered Phase One of Operation Shmooze. Synchronise watches!”

“You’re the only one wearing a watch, J.”

“Well...synchronise, I dunno, biorhythms or something,” I pout.

She gives me a Look. “I’ll go book us in. Anything extra you’d like for the room, J? Rope ladders? Torches? A variety of gear with the word ‘tactical’ in the name?”

I don’t dignify this with an answer.

“Oh...er, one other thing,” Sue says, and then to my surprise hands me the car keys. “Can you stay here while C and I take the luggage?”

“Okay, but...why? What’s going on?”

Sue looks embarrassed. “I couldn’t actually book a room for three people, especially when only two of them are women. They have,” she makes air-quotes, “’standards’.”

I look at her. “Sue, am I sleeping in the car?” I ask suspiciously.

“What? No! No, of course not. Pillock. We’ll go get the room key and, in about five minutes, give you a call and you can join us.”

This is all a bit cloak-and-dagger, I think to myself. Still, there’s a bright side. I grin and raise a finger.

“Freeze!” I hear you shout. I freeze.

“Right, girl,” you say, crisply. “Practical field test. What’s he going to do next?”

It’s actually rather adorable that you’ve taken it upon yourself to school Sue in what I like to think of as my ‘funny little ways’. Trouble is, you and she adopted this whole ‘school-ma’am-and-student’ thing which hits a lot of buttons, even though I know you do it mostly to wind me up. Doesn’t matter though, a certain part of me salutes you every single time.

“Well miss,” Sue says, staring at my crotch. “I rather think he wants to bend one of us…”

“WRONG!” you shout. Then pause for a second. “Well, okay, not wrong, but I mean: what’s he going to do in the more immediate future? Think: you’ve told him things are a bit circumspect. You’ve told him he’s going to have to enter a hotel under false pretences. You even, unwisely I may add, used the word ‘tactical’ in his presence. Think: what’s he going to do?”

Sue has a bit of a think. Then pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, God. He’s going to pretend to be James Bond, isn’t he?”

You nod. “Yep. Well, either that or a ninja. Could go either way. So, J: no keeping to the shadows. No crouching behind the counter until no-one is looking, and no sprinting to the lift and hiding behind the closing doors. Just...just walk to the lift. Like a normal person. I know it’s challenging for you, but just try it. Please?”

“Can I at least seduce the receptionist into giving me the room key?” I ask hopefully.

You sigh. “No. Because...and try to stay with me on this...we’ll already have the room key.”

I surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll do it the boring way. Five minutes you say?”

“Better make it ten,” replies Sue. And off you pop with most of the luggage.

- - -

I spend the ten minutes fiddling about with the car’s settings in order that I can drive it tomorrow. I’d insisted that I do the drive out to and back from the gig, partly so that you and Sue could have a drink if you wanted, but mostly because I didn’t want Sue arriving on the car park in a way that made it seem like we were about to spray the building with 9mm.

My phone pings with a text message: “Infiltration to location 412 successful. Secured and tight. Proceed with caution. Good luck, 007”

Sue, of course.

Just to spite her I do this as boringly as possible. I grab the remaining pair of cases, walk into reception, nod at the (rather pretty, I can’t help noticing) receptionist, step into a conveniently open lift, press the appropriate floor number, smile again at the receptionist as the doors close, and get to the mid-point of the journey before I realise I’ve been played.

Fucking reverse psychology. Every damn time…

- - -

I make it to 412 without having to assassinate anyone, put the bags down, knock on the door, and only just resist calling out “Sausage service!” At the last second I remember what you’d threatened to do to me if I ever did that. I settle for a much lamer “It’s me.”

- - -

Ten minutes later I’ve kicked off my shoes and I’m sprawled in one of the chairs, drinking a mediocre coffee and thinking about not very much. You pair are on the bed, just relaxing after the journey. Sue’s holding one of your hands, which is rather sweet. A thought occurs to me.

“Sue,” I ask. “Why didn’t you just book two rooms?”

“I didn’t want to be apart from either of you tonight,” she replies quietly.

I mentally nod to myself. My brain’s been doing its ‘background processing of data’ thing, and Sue’s comment confirms its suspicions: she’s worried about something. Something to do with this party.

“You okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Sue shakes her head.

“It’s this party. Or, rather, who’s throwing it. A while ago, before I got to know C and then you, my business hit a crossroads. I had to decide if I was content to stay small, or to risk expanding. I chose to expand. In order to do that I had to renegotiate a lot of supply contracts.

Most went fine – after all, I was going to be ordering more of what they sold. Who wouldn’t want that? But one company was difficult. Insisted I meet in person with the CEO to negotiate. I accepted.

When I turned up he escorted us to a private room. Nothing unusual there. But when it came to getting a better price for larger bulk orders, he only gave a slight discount. Then he...he made it known that if I were to...sleep with him for a week, he’d offer a much better price.”

I can feel my teeth grinding, and I can almost hear yours doing likewise.

“I turned him down of course. He got angry. Claimed I was just a slut and I should be grateful for his attentions. I stormed out with him shouting that I’d be sorry. I assumed he’d gotten over it. I mean, it was years ago. But then the invite arrived.

I’m scared that he wants to resume where we left off.”

“Not if we have any say in it,” you say.

“Can...can we not do anything tonight? I’d really like to just hug.” Sue says.

I get up. I cross over to the bed. I squeeze onto it. And we all three of us hug.

- - -

In the morning Sue apologises. Claims she was just jittery and over-reacting. But deep down I also have a frisson of worry. Because who sends out an invite with a plus two? I file it away for later.

We spend the morning just bimbling about the local town. Nice place, if unspectacular. We’re due to arrive at the event at 6.30pm, and it’s about an hour’s drive from here so we need to be on the road 5.30-ish, or before. I know from prior experience it’ll take me no more than 30 minutes to get togged up. You pair, however, are a different matter.

“No touching – promise?” Sue states.

“Nope. Not promising that. I’ll promise to try though.”

“Good enough,” says Sue, before the pair of you strip.

I pointedly place myself on the bed and watch events with growing interest, if you know what I mean.

Sue leans in to you, cups and then kisses one of your breasts. You make a throaty sound. I make a throaty sound.

“Sorry,” Sue says, again not sounding it. “Couldn’t resist.”

And then proceeds to unpack a lot of clothes.

“Hang on – why so many? I thought you’d decided what you were going to wear?” I ask, clearly not Wise In The Ways Of Sue and C.

“We did. Well, mostly. Narrowed it down a lot.”

I had been wondering why there were so many cases.

“But for what it’s worth I now know what I’m wearing. So does C. I think you’ll like it.”

Sue grins mischievously, grabs a case, and disappears into the bathroom.

“Since you’re naked, I was wondering..?” I ask, plaintively.

“No. Behave yourself.”

I pout.

Sue emerges after about ten minutes.

“Wow!” I say, meaning it. Sue’s outfit is oriental. A snug blouse with a high collar. A short but not too short skirt. Stockings. Heels. Black and gold. She looks like a Chinese sex pixie.

She twirls, but the skirt isn’t the right kind for it. I am extremely appreciative nonetheless.

You grab a case and vanish into the bathroom.

“I think you’ll love C’s outfit.” Sue winks at me.

“Is it like yours?” I ask.

Sue shakes her head. “Completely different. You’ll see.”

About 15 minutes pass. I really want to feel Sue up but promises are promises.

The door opens and you step into the room.

My mouth drops open.

At its heart what you’re wearing is a Roman-style stola. But it’s astonishing. Made of some velvety material, it clings in all the right places. It’s jet black with a hint of sheen.

“You look incredible,” I whisper. You smile back at me, a little self-consciously.

“Is this one of Sue’s specials that fall off if you tug the right place?” I ask.

Sue is standing behind you. “No,” she says, nodding vigorously. Ah, ha.

You both return to the bathroom to complete all the make-up related stuff. Takes about half an hour while I have another mediocre coffee.

You emerge, looking stunning.

I grin. “Seriously. Incredible. The pair of you.”

And so we depart.

- - -

We step out of the lift, each of you clinging to one of my arms. I feel like an absolute king. The (still rather pretty) receptionist almost does a double-take. A Chinese sex pixie, a noble Roman lady, and a weirdo in a kilt can’t be that common in the average Premier Inn.

We get into the car, me doing the noble chivalrous thing of escorting you both into your seats. It just feels appropriate. I get in, do all the usual pre-checks, turn the wipers on by mistake because I keep forgetting where the indicators are, and we set off.

- - -

An hour later we pull into the driveway of the house in question.

“Wow,” I say. It’s what they used to call ‘a bit of a pile’. I pull up and reverse into a space next to three identical and, to my eyes, rather ridiculous cars. Not sure why I reversed in. I normally don’t. We get out and I lock the car, putting the keys into my sporran. I hear you laughing and turn to see what’s so funny.

“Well, someone’s compensating for something!” you say, staring at the cars. Three identical silver BMWs. Spoilers. The sort of wheels people call ‘Phat’ and makes me want to punch them. And the absolute clincher of the Car Wanker: purple headlights.

“Fleet cars,” Sue says. “Belonging to the outfit throwing this gig. They look silly but I have to admit they’ve got it where it counts. Faster than mine by a small but significant amount. Well, on the straight at least. Mine corners much better.”

“Aren’t those headlights illegal?” you ask. Sue nods.

“They get pulled over every so often. They pay the fine, promise to get them altered, but never do. It’s nothing more than a business expense to them.”

“I’d be predisposed to disliking this outfit based on this alone, regardless of what you told us.” I comment. Sue winces. Oh, nice one J, I think to myself, cursing myself for a fool. “Sorry, Sue.”

She looks up at the house. “Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

- - -

We stride through the entrance in the same way we exited the Premier Inn. Again I feel blessed to love and be loved by two such wonderful women. And, again, wonder what it is they see in me. They could each do so much better, I think, a little sadly.

Yeah, I get a little maudlin’ at times.

We approach the reception desk and Sue hands the invite over. The guy behind the counter is crisply attired, slender, mid-30’s. He’s wearing an ear mic, I notice. Clearly this is an outfit that likes their staff wired for sound. He examines the invite closely, then scans the QR code on it. Types something into a computer, smiles at us and says “Enjoy yourselves!”

I frankly doubt it, but nod, smile, and escort the ladies into the main area.

The main area is...big. There must be two or three hundred people here and it isn’t crowded. Waitresses with drinks trays are cycling though the space. I acquire drinks I know you like, procure something fizzy and non-alcoholic for me, and take in the atmos.

The atmos is...well, not to my or C’s taste, frankly. Sue clearly loves it though, and almost immediately spots someone she knows and streaks off to chat. We wander around and eventually find a table to sit down at. Sue occasionally makes contact before streaking off again. Despite her earlier fears she’s clearly having the time of her life. This goes on for about an hour, you and I chatting, Sue bouncing in and out of our ambit. We’re basically people-watching. No-one approaches us to talk as no-one knows us, but I do get the feeling that we’re getting more glances than is typical. Mind you, we look fabulous if I say so myself, so it could just be that.

I raise my eyebrows at you. “Corner?” I ask you. You nod.

“You go do you,” you reply. I grin. And I go do me.

- - -

Which means I go and snoop. I can’t help it, I’m an incorrigible snoop. Especially in places like this that are far above what I laughingly call my ‘social station’. I like to explore, find out what all the rooms are. Especially I like to try to gain entry into locked rooms. A while ago, during a boring week laid up in bed with something nasty, I started watching a YouTube series on lock-picking. Got fascinated, because locks are basically systems and I love systems. Purchased some very illegal lock-picks and, by habit, tend to carry them with me. What can I say, I get bored a lot.

I head up the mains stairs. Big, white, marble bastards that they are. I reach the second floor and go for a mooch. The stairs continue up, but they’re roped off and guarded by another ear-mic wearing flunky. This one larger and with no obvious sense of humour. I decide to give the upper level a miss for now, although my interest is piqued. Someone doesn’t want me up there, therefore I’m going to find a way of getting up there.

Well. Maybe.

I take a wander through this level. It’s basically bedrooms and store-rooms. I unlock a couple of store-rooms and they contain exactly what you would expect. For some reason, that surprises me. My “something’s off” light is blinking slowly, but it’s not calibrated for this social echelon so it’s probably false.

I re-focus on the corridor, and ever-so-slightly collide with a tall, elegant woman. Early 20’s, I estimate. Very long black hair, tied back into a pony-tail. Breasts that are...well, she has breasts. Let’s leave it there.

“Oh Gods, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Mind was elsewhere. You okay?”

She looks me over. Looks me up, down, up, down. Smiles.

Kilts. What can I say?

She winks and slinks away. I am, I’m not ashamed to admit, captivated by what her ass is doing. How do you do that without dislocating your hips?

After thinking about socks for a bit I continue my snooping.

I continue my wander, and slowly become aware of something: a lot of the bedrooms are occupied. And not by people sleeping. I open a fair few, carefully, just a fraction of an inch. And come to a conclusion: There are a lot of people fucking. One door was wide open. Three people – two women, one guy – were enthusiastically getting it on. One of the women saw me and yelled out, excitedly, “Awesome! Who ordered Scottish?!”

I legged it.

I head downstairs and make contact with you.

“Having fun, dear?” you ask.

“There’s an unbelievable amount of shagging going on upstairs,” I reply, blushing slightly.

“Well, I bet you enjoyed that,” you comment, slightly archly.

“Weirdly not,” I reply. “Where’s Sue?”

“Last saw her five minutes ago. Came by, kissed me, then departed. You know what she’s like.”

I grin.

“Okay, I’m going to Go Do Me on this level. Can’t do level three. Well, not yet, anyway.”

“Please try not to get thumped, dear?”

“I’ll try.”

And off I trot.

I first of all explore the main room. As expected there’s nothing untoward here, although four women try to find out what a Scotsman wears beneath his kilt. One of them succeeds, grinning like a maniac. In my defence I wasn’t actually expecting her to do the splits.

I expand my search. In short order I find the toilets, the kitchens, two doors that clearly lead to the outside and are obviously fire escapes, and a rather mysterious room that’s roped off but has obviously non-guest people moving in and out of it.

Intriguing!

I really want to see inside that room. It’s clearly important, but not ready yet for...something.

I need to see inside.

And so I just walk in. One thing I learned a long time ago is that if you’re south of, say, Newcastle, a kilt has a similar effect to wearing a hard-hat and a high-vis. People just assume you’re okay to be there. No idea why.

The room on the other side of the door is busy. Lots of people doing lots of rather unspecified things.

The room is, well, odd. There’s a sort of Greco-Roman theme going on – lots of columns, ferns, etc. But the room is clearly meant to be occupied at the edges. That’s where the benches are, for one. The centre of the room is occupied by a circular bed larger than the one at the Landing Strip, which is actually rather impressive.

I shuffle off into a corner, pretend to be invisible. And watch.

Best I can tell, people are set-dressing. Like something’s going to be filmed here later. I notice a clip-board, abandoned for now. I take my phone out, switch it to camera mode, then take a few shots of the paperwork. I idly note that I’m not getting a signal in here. Then look again. I thought my phone was saying ‘NO SIGNAL’, but it isn’t.

It’s saying ‘NO SIM’.

What the fuck? I know for a fact it was working yesterday because Sue texted me from the room. I carefully think, trying to remember when I dropped it. Except...I haven’t dropped it. I’m as sure of that as I can be. The sodding thing’s just failed on me. Awesome.

And then, just to improve matters, a large guy in a hard hat accosts me.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says.

- - -

I’ve found that in these sorts of situations it pays to go with a sort of bluff honesty.

“Yeah, sorry. Got curious, you know?” I say to Hard Hat Harry. That’s what I’ve named him. You can’t stop me.

Somewhat to my surprise he grins.

“I’ll bet. You one of the lucky ones with front row seats?”

I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, so I grin and waggle my head.

“You lucky sod!” he says with feeling. “I mean sure, we’ll get to see it on camera, but imagine being here, eh?”

I grin and shrug again. It worked the first time, it’s worth a punt.

“Cameras?” I ask. Keep it short, simple, interested and just a little bit stupid and people will tell you anything you want to know, almost down to their credit card number.

“Yeah!” he say, enthusiastically. “Dex has paid good money to upgrade them from what the old outfit were using. 8K Ultras. Couple up there…” he points at the ceiling, and now I know what I’m looking for I see them… “the rest will be brought in when the show starts.”

“The show, eh?” I mug, grinning. I’m right out on the edge here, and really not sure how much further I can push this.

“Yeah!” he says again. “Can’t wait to see those ply bitches getting it. You think the cuck-fuck’ll cry?”

No idea what he’s talking about, so I shrug. “Don’t they normally?” I venture. He waggles his hand.

“Some do, some don’t. Some really want to see their bitch getting railed by another man. Or men, in this case. Not this one though. From what I’ve been told he actually loves these bitches. Sad fuck. So yeah, I’m expecting tears. Especially when he sees they’re loving it. The Juice’ll see to that. And you know what? Juice or no Juice, they always scream when Fat Tony takes them up the arse.”

“Won’t the...er...cuck-fuck object?” I ask.

“I’m sure he’ll want to, but he won’t be able to. Because...ah, there we go.”

He turns to look behind him. Two guys have just brought out a heavy wooden chair. A chair I recognise. It’s the same type of chair Sue secured me to when you and she were altering me. The one that has handcuffs fixed to the back.

“He’ll be secured to that. Forced to watch. And you know the best bit? Her company makes these. Isn’t that poetic? I’m actually glad that she didn’t just spread her legs like a good little slut all those years ago. Because now we get to spread them for her. And the whole world can watch. Well, if they’ve got the right contacts and the right credit balance, eh?”

I grin and wink, a feeling of cold dread filling me.

“Look,” I say, “I best let you get on. Can’t have it delayed, eh?”

“Yeah, need to get back to it. Dex won’t be happy if it doesn’t kick off at midnight as planned.” He frowns. “Do I know you?” he asks.

Almost certainly yes, I think. “Nah. Blokes in kilts, we all look the same.”

I make for the door and slip out, fighting the urge to see if he’s watching me. Half expecting for him to call out. But he doesn’t.

Oh, shit! I think to myself. I have to find you guys. And then we have to get the hell out of here.

- - -

I do a fast jog back to the main room, then deliberately slow down and try to look casual, my heart pounding. I first of all find you, still parked at the corner table, people watching. I’m increasingly aware that people are looking at us. Not all. But enough. The people with the right contacts and credit balances, I assume.

“Having fun?” you ask, then look closer at me. “What’s up? You look rattled.”

“We’re leaving,” I say. “Now. I need to find Sue.”

“Look,” you say, “I know you really don’t like these things, but can’t you just relax for five min…”

“Goosenarg.” I state, clearly. As previously mentioned it’s a nonsense word we chose a long time ago. It doesn’t have a specific meaning, but it acts as a sort of focus-amplifier.

You look closer at me. “J, what’s up? You’re not rattled, you’re scared.”

“No,” I reply, “I am fucking terrified. We need to get to the car. Can I borrow your phone? I need to text Sue. She might read it before I find her in all this.”

“Why can’t you use yours?” you ask, not unreasonably.

“It’s currently not working terribly well in the communications department. I must have dropped it or something.”

You fish yours out, unlock it, and hand it to me. I look at the screen.

NO SIM

Fuckfuckfuck!

I show you the screen. “They’ve removed our SIM cards,” I say.

“What? Why? Why are they removing people’s SIM cards, J?!”

“Not everyone’s,” I say. “Just ours. Mine. Yours. Sue’s as well, I bet.”

“But why? More to the point, how?” you ask. You’re getting nervous. Good. That’s entirely appropriate.

“Because we’re the only ones that might want to call for help,” I say, not adding to your peace of mind. “As to how, no idea.”

Then I remember the elegant woman in the hallway. The casual collision.

“Have you met a woman that’s young, tall, elegant, long black hair in a pony-tail? Capably equipped in the tits department?” I ask.

“Yes,” you reply. “She said she was staff and was just wanting to know if I wanted anything. I said I was fine and she left.”

“Did she, er, touch you at all?”

You frown. “Yes, now you mention it. She stumbled slightly, knocked into me.”

Bingo.

“I think she’s the one that removed the SIMs. Pick-pocket of some sort. I met her upstairs. She’s good, I’ll give her that. I’m normally quite clued up when it comes to people rummaging in my sporran, especially when they’re...er...”

“’Capably equipped in the tits department’?” you fill in for me. I blush.

“Yeah. Never felt a thing.” I focus on the more immediate issue. “I need you to get to the car. Do not go out the front.”

“Why?” you ask.

Because I strongly suspect you’d be prevented, I think to myself. “Trust me, just don’t. Go to the lady’s. It’s a good excuse for you to be moving. Stay in there for as long as is convincing, then come out and turn left. About 50 feet down the corridor there’s a fire door on the left. I’m betting it won’t be alarmed with this lot going on. There’s always people popping out for a smoke. Go out, then find somewhere out of sight to lurk. I’ll meet you when I’ve found Sue.”

I watch you head off, then take a deep breath. And start searching for Sue.

I eventually find her surrounded by a small crowd. Someone has just handed her a tall glass of something sparkly and green-ish. Lime and soda, I assume. Sue takes a long pull from it, then sees me, hands the drink to someone, launches herself at me and starts to snog me. I’m taken utterly by surprise. I taste her drink on my tongue and snog her back. Around us I hear approved murmurings. Sue eventually breaks off and there’s a small smatter of applause.

“Miss me?” she asks. I try to speak, and eventually succeed on the third attempt. I lean in and whisper “We need to leave. Now. Yes, I’m serious. Cabbage.”

I can’t use ‘goosenarg’ with Sue because it doesn’t have any meaning to her, beyond knowing it has meaning for C and I. But I’m hoping ‘cabbage’ will have the same effect. It’s our safe-word, and I’m hoping that using it here out of context will convey that I’m serious.

She takes a step back, examines my face. Sees my worry. My fear.

“What’s..?” she starts.

“No time,” I reply, then give her the same instructions I’d given you. Ladies, fire exit, car. C’s been out alone for too long and I’m starting to worry that I’ve fucked this up. Sue heads off and I follow, heading for the gents. I stay in there for a few minutes in a stall, trying not to have a panic attack, before flushing, exiting the stall and washing my hands for appearance’ sake. I exit the gents, check to make sure no-one is paying more attention to me than they should, then sidle off to the fire exit.

I meet up with you pair outside. You’d hidden behind a hedge, then beckoned Sue when she came through the door. You do the same with me.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to the car. Stick…” I can’t help it – I giggle slightly. “Stick to the shadows.”

We make our way through the darkness towards the car park. The annoyingly well-lit car park.

When we get to the car I briefly have a horrible moment when I’m utterly convinced that when I reach into my sporran the car keys will be gone.

But they’re there. Little Miss Lightfingers didn’t take them. I take hope from this. They’re not infallible. They’ve made a mistake.

“I’ll drive,” says Sue. I shake my head. “No time to reset all the seat, mirrors etc. Get in. Now.”

You get in the back. Sue takes the passenger seat, reluctantly. I get in and fire up the engine. Good – they haven’t tampered with the car either. Another mistake. I leave the lights off and start slowly down the drive.

“Explanations, J. What the hell has got you so spooked?”

“Sue? Take your phone out. Tell me what sort of signal you’re getting.” I’m praying that Little Miss Lightfingers hadn’t got to Sue yet.

“Nothing,” Sue says. “No bars at all. No...hang on…”

“No SIM?” both you and I ask as one.

“Yes. How the hell did…”

“Same with ours,” I reply. “They didn’t want us to be able to call for help.”

“Why would we want to? J, it’s a party for fuck’s sake!”

“Because they were going to rape you and make me watch!”

“What?” Sue asks, and I hear you add on “...the actual fuck?”

“I got lucky. Stumbled on something when I was off doing my thing. There’s a room towards the rear of the house. Quite large. It’s a film set. They were planning a sort of after-party event. You and C were going to star in it. I’m sorry – there’s no easy way to say this, but: you were going to be raped.”

I decide not to mention the ‘Fat Tony’ aspect – I know C has a particular terror of that sex act. Nevertheless I hear you make a horrified sound from the rear seat. I don’t blame you.

“And what’s more they were going to film it. Stream it, even. They even had one of your special chairs. Guess who was slated to be parked in it? Did you guess ‘me’? Because it was going to be me. I was going to be forced to watch the two women I love more than anything being serially raped. And there would have been nothing I could do to stop it. It would have broken me. Broken us.”

My hands are white on the wheel and I know I’m babbling. Terror does that.

“J?” I hear you say quietly but earnestly from the back. “Can we go a little faster?”

 

I floor the pedal. We’re approaching the end of the drive and I’m praying to whichever Gods may be paying attention that the lack of headlights illuminating the hedges means there’s nothing coming. Because I’m not giving way.

I hit the end of the drive, yank the steering wheel left, indicate purely out of habit (something that you will give me no end of shit about in a few days’ time once everything has settled), get the car straightened more by luck than skill, and make good our escape.

I leave it half a mile or so before I flick the headlights on.

“This...you can’t be right about this, J,” you state. “Who the hell would want to do that to us? And why?”

I think about Hard Hat Harry. “Does the name ‘Dex’ mean anything to you, Sue?”

“Oh, shit.” Sue whispers.

“Who’s Dex?” I hear you ask.

“If I were going to take a guess, I’d say it’s a certain CEO with a rather radical approach to contract renegotiations.”

I see Sue nod as I’m checking the rearview. Blank. Good.

“J, are you...are you sure about this?” Sue asks.

“Sure sure? No. Pretty damn sure? Yes. Too many things were off. Individually they didn’t mean anything more than I’m a paranoid bugger who doesn’t like parties. But added together they spelt trouble.”

Rearview. Still blank.

“The invite was a dead giveaway, in hindsight. Who the hell hands out invites with ‘plus two’s? That was tailored. Targetted. They wanted all of us there. I mean, they’d have been happy if just you went. You’re the one he’s got…” I very nearly say ‘a hard-on for’, before my brain frantically aborts the sentence and replaces it with “...history with. C and I are bonuses. Hurting us would hurt you, and hurting you would hurt us. He’s never met us but he wants us to suffer, because we’ve got something he wants. You. He really wants to apply the spiteful icing to the hate-cake.”

I’m babbling again. Rearview. Still blank. Good. Not expecting it to stay that way, though. I feed more power into the engine.

“I’ll say this for him: he knows how to play a really long game.” I pause. “Also, I think I know what new venture he’s going into. Sue, reach into my sporran. No hanky and absolutely no panky allowed. Just get my phone out. I’d do it myself only, you know, car. Hedges. Etc.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t working?” you say from the rear.

“As a phone, no, it’s just as fucked as yours. But I took some pictures in that room. Some paperwork I saw. There’s a company logo on it that I don’t recognise, but maybe Sue does.”

Sue does as I ask and withdraws my phone. Makes absolutely no attempt at anything furtive involving my nethers, which tells me just how scared she is. Nevertheless I feel myself react strongly at her touch, my erection almost instant. My face flushes.

“Whu?” I croak beneath my breath.

“You okay, J?” asks Sue. I shake my head to clear it and reply “Yeah, fine.”

Sue stares at me. “What have we said about mixed signals, J?”

“I’m fine, honestly. Anyway – phone...”

I reel off the unlock code and she launches the photo album.

“Should be the last few pictures,” I say. Sue scrolls to them, then pinch-zooms.

“Yes. I know this company. They make adult films. Extreme ones. BDSM stuff mostly, some fake-rape. At least,” she sounds uncertain, “I thought they were fake…”

“They probably are,” I reply. Rearview. Blank. “But I don’t understand something. Hard Hat claimed you’d be enjoying what was happening to you. He was quite specific. He said ‘so yeah, I’m expecting tears. Especially when he sees they’re loving it. The Juice’ll see to that.’

What did he mean by ‘juice’?”

“Some years ago – five, six – there was a drug doing the rounds in the adult film industry. I think it was called ‘Juice’. On men it had an effect similar to viagra – got them hard, kept them hard. With women it made them very eager to please. They’d comply with anything, and I do mean anything. With both men and women there was also a slight aphrodisiac effect. Actors, performers, call them what you will – they used to take small amounts a few hours before ‘difficult’ scenes. Scenes they might otherwise not have wanted to do. Very popular in the first-time anal scene. Sorry, C.”

“So a sort of date-rape drug?” I ask.

“No,” Sue replies. “Quite the opposite, at first anyway. Unlike typical date-rape drugs, everyone remembers what they did. Who they did. Who did them.

 J, if we’d taken that then Hard Hat is right – we’d have willingly fucked anyone, as many as they could supply. We’d have wanted to. Needed to. And afterwards, when it wore off and we remembered, we’d...know what we’d done. Remembered wanting to. Remembered not caring that we were betraying you and ourselves. We’d be humiliated. Ashamed. Quite possibly suicidal.”

I nod. “So, yeah. He wants to humiliate you because you said ‘no’ to him, and he gets to destroy us because we’ve got something he hasn’t. I’m repeating myself. Sorry.”

Rearview. Bla...was that a flash?

“Sue, tell me everything you know about this ‘juice’.”

“I don’t know that much. I think it affects men and women slightly differently. Women just want to fuck anything with a dick. Or, you know, other women. With men it acts like viagra, like I said. They get hard and they stay hard, no matter how much they cum. It...I think with women it took a fair amount of time – like an hour – to get into their system and take effect. With men much less, 30 minutes or so. I remember it took a much lower dose with men, as well. Almost homeopathic. In fact that’s why it fell out of use – it was terribly easy for men to OD on it. There were some deaths. Heart attacks, strokes, that sort of thing. I remember now – someone worked out that the best way for men to take it was to French kiss a woman who’d just had a drink with it in. The trace amount left in her mouth was about the perfect dose for the man. Well, assuming that what I think I remember is true, or it’s even the same ‘Juice’ Hard Hat was talking about.”

I glance at the clock. Just after 11pm.

“I think we got out of there just in time. The show…” I feel sick “...the show was due to start at midnight. Which means they’d have been dosing you guys up round about now.”

“Or before,” Sue adds. “Depending on dosage it lasts for about four hours. That’s a lot of time in which you can be...used.”

“Drink,” I say, worried. “I’m not concerned about C or myself, but I’m worried about you, Sue. When it comes to drinks in public spaces, C and I…”

Purple flash in the rearview. Definite.

Shit.

“Could you explain, dear?” I ask. “Need to focus for a bit.”

+++INTERMEDIATE RANGE SENSORS INDICATE POSSIBLE HOSTILE TARGET INBOUND+++

+++BATTLE COMPUTERS PROPOSE EVASIVE ACTION+++

+++NAVIGATION SYSTEMS ARE NOW ONLINE AND LINKED+++

+++STATE COURSE AND SPEED+++

Away, I think. Fast.

+++COURSE AND SPEED CONFIRMED+++

This is how my head copes with stuff. Yes, it’s stupid. Shut up.

“Bit silly,” I hear you say. “We watched a lot of stupid stuff like The Prisoner. Got it into our heads that the victim always made the same mistake: they accepted food or drink from untrustworthy sources. So we got into the habit that when someone we didn’t trust or didn’t know gave us a drink, we waited until we could dispose of it, and got one we trusted. Silly, like I say.”

“Not tonight,” Sue whispers.

No. Not tonight. Because I’m thinking back to when I found Sue. Someone had just given her a drink. A drink she’d taken a long pull on. And I realise I know who gave her the drink.

Little Miss Lightfingers.

“Oh, crap,” I whisper. Then I focus on the review.

There’s a car behind us, closing slowly. It has purple headlights.

“We’re being followed,” I state.

“What?!” you exclaim. “Why?”

“I’m speculating like a bastard here, but: I think tonight’s little am-dram feature was going to be Dex’s gift to that company. Prove to them that he can make good shit. All that shagging going on upstairs? Bet you it was being filmed as well. Mood pieces, if you can call them that.

I think that if we hadn’t showed up he’d have shipped in some replacements. Probably look enough like us to fulfil his sick needs but probably wouldn’t have needed the drug. He’d just have made a porno. But we did show up. I bet his computer lit up like a Christmas tree when they scanned the QR code on the invite. That typing the reception guy did? Bet you that was confirming that all three of us had arrived. So he never got the replacements in. Trouble is, we did a disappearing act before they could contain us. And so he wants us back. Badly. Money’s involved, I’ll bet.”

“But,” Sue says, “I know this company. They make extreme stuff, sure, but everyone’s willing. Well, as willing as you can be in that industry. It’s all legal. They wouldn’t countenance actual rape. The risk’s far too high.”

“They wouldn’t have known it was rape,” I state. “From their perspective it’s just two women having a lot of fun with a lot of guys, and to add spice to it there’s a husband figure tied to a chair and convincingly crying. I bet they’d have given me some of the drug as well, just to make sure I had a hard-on while the women I love are…”

I can’t finish the sentence, and I emit a small sob. Damnit, I can’t afford this. I need to concentrate on getting us safe!

“Sue, I need you to navigate. I can’t work your sat-nav worth a damn. But I think I know where we are and, if so, there’s a shitfuckshit!...”

The road has unexpectedly S-bended on me, and I have a terrifying few seconds when I’m trying to keep the car pointing the right way and out of the hedges.

“...sorry,” I pant once we’re clear. “Okay, we’re not quite where I thought we were. Either that or I just forgot about that bit. Sue, I think there’s an on-ramp for a dual-carriageway coming up in about a mile. Can you confirm?”

Sue fiddles with the car’s navigation system, zooms the map out slightly.

“More like three miles,” she says.

I check the rearview. The pursuing car hasn’t reached the S-bend yet.

“Might be enough time,” I pray. “What’s the road like between here and there?”

“Mostly straight,” Sue replies. “Nothing like that S-bend, anyway.”

I feed more power into the engine. I’m travelling about 20% faster than I’m remotely comfortable with, but the alternative is that we’ll be stopped. And I know what would happen to the women I love if we’re stopped. Apprehended. Returned...

I increase it to 22% and whimper slightly.

“Sorry,” I say. “Not exactly the hero-figure you need right now. I bet Bond has never whimpered in his life.”

Babbling again. I see Sue turn to look at you. See you in the rearview look at Sue and nod.

“J,” Sue says, quietly but with feeling. “You’re doing fine. More than fine. There’s nobody we’d rather be with right now. Nobody. And when you get us safely out of this, C and I are going to find some very creative ways to thank you.”

“I know this is spoiling the mood a tad, but I’ve got the weirdest boner right now,” I mention, conversationally. I glance down at my crotch. It’s true, I do. The erection that Sue inadvertently triggered has refused to go down, despite events being Very Scary.

Odd. I’m not normally an adrenaline junkie. Quite the opposite.

Then I get back on track. “Sue, let me know when we’re about a quarter mile from the ramp.”

“Will do,” she says. “For what it’s worth we’re about a mile and a half away. At this speed, under a minute.”

“Confirmed,” I say. I see you wince slightly at that over-used phrase of mine.

The pursuing car is back in the rearview again, about a mile behind and gaining slowly.

Shit, this is going to be tight. Especially as I need to reduce speed somewhat.

“Under a mile,” Sue informs me. I start to slow, not braking but just letting the engine slow us down. Sue was clearly about to ask what the hell I was doing, then twigs.

“Half a mile.”

“Confirmed.”

Time and road passes, Sue staring at the screen intently. The headlights behind get closer.

“Aaaaand...mark!”

I switch the head-and-tail lights off and pray that my eyes adjust rapidly.

“What the hell are you doing?!” exclaims Sue, with you making sounds indicating you’d also quite like to know the answer to that one.

“Trying to hide,” I say. “If we can get to the dual carriageway we still might not be safe, but if I can fool that guy into thinking we didn’t take it we might have a chance.”

“It’s coming up, J! Oh, and J? Don’t indicate!”

Muffled-but-much-needed laughter from me as I squint, and see it. There’s more illumination than I’d like but that can’t be helped. Smoothly I take the ramp and start to join the carriageway. I don’t indicate.

I sweep up the ramp, using light tugs on the handbrake to slow us a bit more than the gearbox alone is capable of in the time allotted to us. I can’t risk the brake lights being seen, they’d be a dead giveaway. The dual carriageway isn’t busy, which is actually a disappointment. I’d have liked some cover. But even so I nearly collide with a VW Campervan when I join, it somehow being in the blind spot in the mirrors. I squeak manfully, floor the pedal, and accelerate ahead of the VW. I flick the lights back on.

“This is not my milieu!” I cry out, starting to feel severely got at.

“You’re doing fine,” you tell me again. “Are we safe?”

“With me driving? Fuck knows!”

I take a deep breath or two and calm down slightly.

“I’ll think we’ll know in about half a minute. Sue? Where the next exit?”

Sue doesn’t reply, but instead makes a faint moaning sound.

“Sue?” I ask again, alarmed.

“J...we need to get back to the hotel. I’m pretty sure it’s in me.”

Shit.

I spot an exit, reduce speed to something a little more legal, and take it. We’re heading the wrong way and I need to course-correct. I turn right at the top, cross the carriageway, then right again, rejoining it in the other direction. And see purple headlights on the other side. The timing isn’t right, I realise. They went on past the turnoff, then couldn’t find us. Realised what we must have done. Turned around and joined the carriageway as soon as they could.

My ruse worked. But will it continue to work?

“Please,” I whisper. I’m at my physical and mental limits, and I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can operate under this stress.

The lights continue on past the junction.

We’ve lost them.

We’re safe.

One problem down.

Next problem: Sue.

“Okay,” I say. “Why do you think it’s in you?” What I don’t say is that I agree – there’s no other reason Little Miss Lightfingers would have given her a drink.

“I feel...odd. J, I’m scared.”

“Sue, that you’re scared is pretty good evidence that it’s not in you. We’re all feeling scared and out of our depth. We’re going to react in weird ways. Like I say, I have an erection that just won’t stop and I know for a fact I’m not someone that gets off on fear. Also I guarantee C’s craving cheese.”

In fact the whole ‘erection’ thing is starting to concern me, now I’m at liberty to worry about it instead of concentrating all my willpower on driving like Jason Statham.

“Besides,” I check the clock. 11.40pm. I add on the time since I located Sue and we got to the car. That makes it...the better part of an hour since Sue took the drink. It should be affecting her by now. More or less.

“...Sue, you took your last drink roughly an hour ago. You said the drug kicked in in about that time, and it was abrupt. We’ll know for sure in ten minutes or so. And whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. I promise.”

“So do I,” I hear you say. “We’ll get through this. I promise you. We’re here for you, no matter what. We’ll deal with this and everything else that happens, together.”

Gods, I love you.

“I need to get into the back seat, J.”

“Why?”

“Because if it does kick in I’m going to want you, badly. You’re driving. That can’t be allowed to happen. I’d kill us all.”

I open my mouth to protest, then hear you say “She’s right.”

I close my mouth. “I...okay. Carefully, please. I’m not at my best.”

“You are, though,” you say.

I can’t reply. If I try I’ll probably cry, and that would be sub-optimal in the ‘being able to drive’ department.

Sue moves her seat back a bit, then lithely squirms onto the rear seats. I see you and Sue hug, tightly. You don’t let go.

Don’t cry, I remind myself. I try to refocus.

Right. The situation is temporarily contained. Time for me to get us somewhere safe. I mentally plot the course to the hotel.

+++NAVIGATION SYSTEMS HAVE ACCEPTED NEW COURSE INSTRUCTIONS+++

+++ESTIMATED TRAVEL TIME IS 31.4 MINUTES+++

+++EXECUTING NEW COURSE HEADING...NOW+++

I accelerate, fix my eyes on the road ahead.

And drive.

Approximately half-way there it becomes obvious that Sue’s not okay. She’s getting, for lack of a better word, squirmy. Her hug with you has moved on from ‘comfort’ to something distinctly different. You have a slight ‘rabbit in the headlights’ look about you, gently fending her off.

And this stupid erection won’t quit. It’s a distraction I just don’t need.

“Fucksake!” I mutter to myself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Bit embarrassing, and not relevant right now but I’ve got an erection that’s not going away. If I didn’t know better I swear they did get to me. Except, from what Sue said, they’d have dosed me closer to the time. What was it she said? With men it takes much less and acts faster. So it can’t be tha...oh, shit!”

I remember Sue drinking from the glass I’m now 100% sure was spiked. Remember her turning, seeing me. Launching herself at me. Kiss...no, let’s be real here: snogging me. I remember the taste of her drink on my tongue.

Her drink...

“J?” Sue asks, worriedly. “Did they get to you?”

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Not directly. Not on purpose. It wasn’t them. It, er, was you.”

“What?! What are you accusing me of?!”

“Nothing! It wasn’t deliberate. When I caught up with you at the party you’d just drank from a glass. Then you noticed me. What did you do?”

Sue grins. “Oh, right. I kissed you.”

“Kissed?” I hear you enquire.

“Snogged,” I reply. “This is Sue we’re talking about. It went on a bit. People applauded afterwards. Trouble is, I distinctly remember the taste of her drink.”

Sue grasps the implication immediately. “Oh, no! J, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. At least I know why I’m tent-poling. And I think that’s the only effect it’s having on me. So far as I can tell, mentally at least I’m still me.”

Am I, though? Maybe I’m just tired, but it does feel like part of my mind is starting to disconnect. I’m increasingly aware that a so-far small part of me thinks it would be an absolute hoot to pull over, get in the back, and have some fun with you pair.

“Come on, J,” I whisper to myself. “Focus. It’s important.”

I increase speed.

A little over ten minutes later we pull into the hotel carpark. I do a fast scout through it first, looking for any of the silver BMWs. I don’t see any. Even so I park as close to the front door as I can. I don’t want to take chances. There’s about an even chance they know we’re staying here, so before we get inside the entrance is their last chance to nab us.

We make it inside, un-nabbed, me making some hurried adjustments to myself so I don’t scare/outrage whoever is behind the counter. We make it to a lift and begin the ascent.

Sue’s fear has evaporated. Deep down I know that’s not a good sign. One of her hands rubs me through my kilt.

“C? I think the drug has taken full effect on Sue. We need to be careful.” I glance at my watch: 12.30 in the morning. And then my hands whiten on the lift rail.

“Bastards!” I whisper.

You look up, alarmed. “What’s up?”

I breath in. Out. “The time. The ‘show’ was due to start at midnight. Given what Sue said she remembered about the drug I assumed you’d be dosed up at 11pm. And possibly you would be. But Sue got...infected...earlier, and it’s only now kicked in fully.”

You look puzzled. “Okay, but so what?”

“Again, there’s no easy way to say this, but it means that when they started on you, you wouldn’t have had the benefit of the drug making everything seem okay. You’d know you were being raped. You’d act like you were being raped. And then, as the drug kicked in, you’d start to enjoy...or at least allow... what was happening. It’s the oldest male conceit there is: women always eventually love having cock shoved up them, and if they claim they don’t then they just need a few more. That’s the film Dex was going to make, sell and stream.”

Not the most diplomatic way of saying things, but in my defence I’m angry.

“What do we do now?” you ask.

“First things first: we need to get to our room…”

“Want you in me, J,” Sue purrs in my ear, and starts to take her top off. I feel my lust rise in me. It’s like I’ve been doused in warm water. I gasp and try to close her top. We’re almost at our floor and I don’t need problems with other guests who may be roaming the hallways. Sue may not have much in the breast department but she’s still very much a woman. She grabs one of my hands, thrusts it inside her top. I cup her breast, feeling the nipple rigid against my palm. My knees go weak.

“Help?” I croak. You pull Sue away, she starting to fight you. You wrap your arms around her tightly.

“We can’t get to the room like this, J!”

“It’s okay,” I gasp. “I think I’ve got an idea...”

The lift pings open at our floor and I immediately do a fast walk down to our room, roughly halfway along. Thankfully there are no other guests in the corridor. Given my current state, plus what I’m about to do, that’s a blessing.

The problem is going to be getting Sue into the room. The solution I’m going to attempt is, basically, bait. Me.

I unlock our room and open the door, flip the lights on, then turn to where you’re holding Sue just outside the lift. Sue’s struggling slightly. I make sure I have her attention, such as it is, raise my kilt to display my erection to the corridor, and make a ‘come hither’ gesture with my finger.

Sue breaks free of your hold and sprints down the corridor towards me. I step inside and try to time it right.

Sue barrels into the room. As she does I grab her by her waist and, as gently as possible, throw her towards the bed. A second or two later you slip into the room, and with a sigh of relief I close the door. And lock it.

Contained.

Sue has landed on the bed and is now frantically removing her clothing. She leaves her knickers on, I suspect because she knows I like that and she wants to be very accommodating.

“What now?” you ask.

I blow out a long breath and start removing my own clothes. My sporran, belt and kilt drop to the floor in short order. I yank my shirt off. The rest follows.

“Now,” I say, “I need you to do something. It’s important, and you’re not going to like it.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you reply, correctly divining my intentions.

“You must,” I state.

“No.”

“C! Please!”

“Why, J? Why is it so important that I leave?”

“Because I can’t guarantee your safety!” I sob.

You stare at me. “You’d never hurt me, J. I know that.”

“Ordinarily? No, of course I wouldn’t. But now?”

I decide something. I’m not going to persuade you with words, which means I need to persuade you with actions. I need to scare you slightly, and I’m going to feel horrible about it.

I stride over to you. Behind you. Take firm hold of you with one hand, while the other raises your skirt and wrenches your panties to one side.

“Wha...what are you doing? NO!” you cry out.

I’ve just positioned the head of my erection at the entrance to your ass. I start to push forward and feel you struggle. I know this is one act you just can’t bring yourself to do. I press just hard to enough not to start penetrating you, then I back off. You spin around, looking hurt and slightly betrayed. It breaks my heart.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I had to make you understand. I can stop...now. But five minutes from now? Ten? I don’t know! Look at Sue.”

Sue is lying on the bed. Face down, bum raised, legs spread. Both hands between, masturbating furiously. “Need...you...in me…” she whimpers.

“That’s going to be me. Soon. So please, please, leave here and book another room. Make sure this door is locked and that you have the key. Come back at...6am, 7am thereabouts. We should be...safe...by then.”

To my immense relief I see understanding replace the hurt and betrayal you briefly felt. You nod, turn and walk towards the door. I turn to face Sue, oddly reluctant to do what needs doing until you’re gone. We’re past shyness where either of us having sex with either other is concerned, but right now I’m not me, or, at least not me enough, and I don’t want you to see that.

I hear the door open. Then shut again, a little firmly. A little angrily, I suspect. Then I hear it lock. There’s a faint ‘swish’ as something presumably gets knocked off a chair by the draft.

“Sorry, C,” I whisper to myself. “It really is for your own good.”

And that’s when I feel your arms come around me. Feel your breasts press against my back. And hear you whisper in my ear “I told Sue we’d get through this together, and that’s what we’ll do.

Now go give the poor girl some relief.”

I turn to face you. You’ve stripped out of your dress – the ‘swishing’ noise I heard, I realise – and stand before me in your underwear. I growl and take a step towards you. You take me by the shoulders, spin me 180 degrees, and shove me towards Sue.

The final shreds of my control evaporate as I position myself behind her, drag her knickers to one side, and enter her in one long, smooth thrust.

Sue screams into a pillow and cums, hard. Seconds later so do I. It’s like no other orgasm I’ve ever had before. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsing though me, jet after jet of fluid erupting from me and into Sue. It’s starting to run out of her and I’m still coming. So is she. She’s making incoherent whimpering noises, alternating with gasps. “More!” she pleads.

My orgasm dwindles but my erection stays firm. “Gets them hard, keeps them hard” I remember Sue saying. Well, she was right about that.

My hips start to work seriously. I grab her waist and pound her in earnest. No gentle lovemaking, this is sex. Animalistic. Raw. We’re each taking from the other something we desperately need. Another orgasm is building swiftly in me, and I can tell Sue’s the same. She has this way of tightening when she’s close.

“Oh God!” she yells, and I feel her clench as she cums on me, my own orgasm arriving a second later. We buck and writhe together.

I pull out, grab her, flip her onto her back, spread her legs forcefully and penetrate her again. Her back arches as she cums again, eyes rolling back in her head with the strength of it.

“Dear God,” I hear you whisper. I glance over. You’ve sat yourself in a chair. Your legs are parted, one hand between them, inside your panties. Caressing yourself.

I focus back on Sue. Reach forward, grab her shoulders and pull her even deeper onto me. Her legs come up and around me.

“Fuck me!” she gasps. “Fuck your little slut. Use me. Any way you want. Breed me!”

I growl down at her, slam myself into her, cum. It erupts from me, almost painful.

“Yes!” Sue yells. “Cum in me! Use my pussy! Use my mouth! Use my arse!”

I really, really want to take her up on the ‘arse’ bit, but it’s not something she and I have done yet. I know she wants to but we both understand, on some level, that it’s a ‘first time’ thing, and when we do it needs not to be rushed, not be some spur-of—the-moment act. I look over to you, see you mouth the word “don’t”. I nod, that little head dip I do when I’m agreeing with you.

I blink. I realise that I’m rationalising again. I wasn’t gone for long, but I’m back. The drug – the Juice, or whatever variation this is – is wearing off.

I breathe a sigh of relief. C’s safe now.

I’m still rock hard, though.

I pick Sue up and stand upright, then lower her onto me. I know she absolutely loves me doing this. I impale her on me, feel her clench/release, whimpering, then I start to bounce her. I’m essentially using her as a masturbation toy. Sue is gasping, whimpering, almost crying. With each down thrust more of my cum squirts out of her – which is kind of gross. Her legs and mine are both drenched in it. It’s thin, watery stuff. My body must be frantically using up the water in me to generate ridiculous amounts of pre-cum, I guess?

I increase the tempo, feeling my back starting to protest. Sue’s nails rake me.

“Oh...God...I’m...going to cum!” she gasps. “It’s going to be big…”

I increase the force, watching her face intently. Waiting for the right moment.

“I’m...I’m…” she starts. And then I slip a finger into her ass.

Sue throws her head back, screaming almost soundlessly. She clenches hard, almost painfully around me. I force her down onto me fully, grinding her. Her orgasm intensifies and she jerks, twitches. “Haaaaaaaaa!” she screams.

And then her eyes roll up and she goes limp.

“Sue!” I cry out. I gently lie her on the bed, then look frantically at you. You smile.

“It’s okay, J. She’s just out for the count. I think she’ll be okay now.”

I realise you’re right and relief floods me.

“Okay. Yeah. Wow. I’ve never actually fucked someone unconscious before. Well, except by boring them to sleep.”

“Hush, you silly man. And sit down.”

I sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to need a lot of water. Quite soon.” I say. “So will Sue once she’s awake. What are you doi...ah.”

You’ve discarded your panties and have walked over to me, standing one leg either side of mine. With a look of great contentment and a sigh, you lower yourself onto me.

“Oh, God,” you say. “I need this. Watching you pair shagging each other silly was starting to get a bit...frustrating.”

You ride me, gently, in the way I know you love. I reach up, cup your breasts, before going lower and cupping your bum. You speed up slightly and I hear you gasp as your orgasm takes you. You continue to ride me. I grasp you by the waist and pivot, forcing you onto your side and then your back. I lean forward and kiss you as I work myself in you. You’re making little ‘unk’ noises and I know you’re close again. So am I. I speed up and increase the force ever-so-slightly. I hear you gasp again, and my own orgasm boils from me.

I pull out, gasping.

“I am,” I wheeze, “getting too old for this.” I’m finally losing my erection. Good. That was just starting to worry me a tad.

You look up at me lovingly. “You did just fine.”

We rearrange Sue so that we can get a bit of bed. I mainline about 2ltrs of water, feeling it reviving me. I also make sure there are some painkillers to hand. Strongly suspect I’ll be needing them in a few hours.

We curl up and sleep. It’s been a long, long day.

I wake at just after 9am according to the bedside clock. You’re nowhere to be seen, so I assume you’re in the bathroom. Sue is staring at me and suddenly I feel very, very scared.

“Thank you,” Sue whispers, to my immense relief. “Thank you for taking care of me. Of us. And thank you for not taking advantage. I know you want to do...that. And I’d have let you last night. But you didn’t let yourself.”

“The drug was fading by that point. I’d got some control back. Enough not to...take advantage of you. But if you’d made that offer a little earlier I don’t know what would have happened.”

“I do,” Sue replies. “You’d still have refused. Drug or no drug, there’s some part of you that’s always watching. Always caring. What’s that expression you use?”

“’Looking to windward’,” I whisper. Sue nods.

The bathroom door opens and you emerge, clad in jeans and t-shirt.

“Are you guys okay?” you ask, in mock worry. I look at Sue. Sue looks at me.

“Er...yes?” I reply, suddenly not sure. “Why?”

“Well it’s just that you’re both awake, both naked, and you’re not up to anything.”

I look ruefully down at a certain part of my anatomy that’s still sound asleep.

“Genuinely don’t think I’m going to be up to much in that area for a few days,” I reply.

You sashay over to the bed, removing your t-shirt as you go. You sit on the edge of the bed, reach down and take me in your hand. A second later I feel one of Sue’s hands join yours. You both start fondling me.

“Want to bet?” you ask.

About an hour after the point that I comprehensively lost the bet, had I been stupid enough to make it, we feel up to leaving the room. Me on somewhat shaky legs. Before we depart though, I leave £100 where the cleaning staff will find it.

They’re not paid enough for this shit.

Sue pays the bill and we walk out to the car. Sue insists on driving so I grab the back seat, hoping to get a little more sleep. You take the passenger seat, better able to chat with Sue.

Sue guides us out onto the open road and smoothly hits the motorway. A far cry from my panicked drive a few hours earlier.

I listen to you pair. You’re chatting about this and that, nothing important. I love listening to you, badly needing a bit of normal in my life.

I know that at some point, and soon, once we’re home, we’ll have to let ourselves relax. Unclench. And then there will be tears. Because you don’t go through what we just did without fallout. You were going to be raped. And at some point you, both of you, are going to have to process that.

As am I.

I know that I’ll do what I can to supply comfort as best I can. Know that it won’t be enough. It can’t be.

But we’ll weather it. Eventually. Because you pair are far stronger than you know. Far stronger than I am, that’s for sure.

Nevertheless, I’ll continue to look to windward, looking for the storms that try to wreck us, and doing what I can to fend them off.

Because I love you.

I sleep.

~fin~