Chapter 11: The Journey Starts

Abba cycled off with a dreamy face. He glanced at Kari a few times and chuckled as he started pedalling. But, perhaps guiltily, he didn't look at Sarita.

Sarita

I asked Kari to write the next bit but she HATES writing. I agreed to do a paragraph or two while she gets things sorted out in her mind. There are some things I CAN'T write about but for the rest, she was quite adamant, "You get out your pen; you were there. You do it; you're much more experienced in writing than an engineer, like me."

So I'm taking this from when Abba came in and wanted to lay down the law and set off as soon as we were packed. There was a quick answer to that, "No way can I ride on a bike for twelve hours." Yes, I tried not to show it, but inside, I was really feeling the effects from a good seeing to the previous night.

I set it out quite clearly and even he had to see the logic. I made the point; none of us had been cycling for years and he expected us to ride through the night. The longest we could do was six hours.

"We can't cycle for more than six solid hours, probably fewer, as we have not been in training. If we get up around one o'clock, we still have seven hours cycling because it's still dark until well after eight in the morning. Isn't it better to get a last few hours in a comfy bed rather than in a tent?"

"The packing? You don't know where to put everything."

That's when we sent Abba upstairs. He was going to be a pain if we let him stay. We had everything organised. "There's still hot water but the electric heater won't reheat the water again. Have a shower now, your last chance."

I thought if he we let him sit down, we'd never move him. He needed a real sleep and Kari had just the sedative to send him off.

"But there's the packing to do."

"Go!" we both shouted, "Everything's in hand. All we need is that lantern and maybe another torch. The packing is all arranged. We're both checking everything you brought. We'll see they get put into the right trailers. If you want to check off the lists, here they are, written out." I showed him.

Of course he went on asking questions, stupid ones.

I protested, "Kari's checking what I do. The only things not on the list are these new lights and all your Robin Hood stuff." He didn't like that and insisted that at least three bows and some arrows were left out for ease of use. What stupid things to carry around. I compromised. He'd brought them so he could have one on top of his cistern. He chose the twisty shaped one, saying it was faster to use.

I relented and agreed to have a heavy bow on mine, though why, I had no idea. Kari said she used to play bows and arrows when she was about five or six! This wasn't a proper bow; it looked stupid. It was bulky with a handle-bit like that of a rifle. He called it the stock. At least all the others were going inside his cistern. It was the only place there was room. I was almost disappointed that we could easily fasten them on the top with those elastic hooked things.

The one he wanted on my trailer was called a crossbow. I told him, "I'll take the bow, I don't want a quarrel."

He got angry then, "That's useless, Take all six of them."

We did quarrel then. I was not going to take all six Robin Hood toys! It took ages to find out that the arrow for that type of bow was called a quarrel! I ask you, if it's an arrow, why not call it an arrow?

Kari was no help. She was laughing. That upset me but later, I had to admit, she did try to interrupt us and sort out the misunderstanding. She used to like history and things mechanical and knew what he was getting at.

One crossbow and six quarrels in their lightweight waterproof case on top of my wooden trailer, agreed!

We all stopped then. There was small radio on and we heard the news. American news was being coordinated by what were called survivalists. Over there they had people lying in the streets and as many shot as had died with the flu. Thank goodness they don't allow guns in the UK; the idiots would be murdering everyone they see over here too.

We stopped still as we listened. Statisticians had produced an initial computer report of the first outbreaks that announced there was an eight times greater chance of contracting it if you had a city address than a rural one.

Then the American reporter started a roundup of how things looked around the world. When he started about the UK the radio just started crackling. Damn thing! When we switched that off, Abba was on his way upstairs. About time too!

"You know," said Kari, "I think things are as bad here. I think that was just censored."

"Why should they do that?"

"To stop panic and people fighting in the streets. I'm not suposedto tell anyone but my brother Jonty told me that Heathrow was closed because of lots of people were dead there. That was last week-end. Don't tell anyone though. I shouldn't know."

It was then we packed up everything and we carried upstairs only what we would be wearing after midnight.

We took a lantern and one of the big torches up to the bathroom.

Originally we, that's Abba and I, had intended to dye our hair this evening. The idea was to avoid recognition. Now, there was no way that I was going to use bleach on my hair. Have you ever seen the mess that there is, even when you are covered in plastic, rubber gloves and you know what you are doing? In the dark, it was asking for trouble.

As a pre-requisite to dying my hair, I had intended to cut it shorter. I'm not really an outdoor girl and the idea of living outside for almost a week and not being able to wash it was anathema. Resigned to losing my tresses, I felt better as Kari thought that her long hair would also be unmanageable.

"How do you manage when you're doing engineering?" I had to ask, thinking of her bent over a machine. Did they call them lathes?

"I'm normally bent over a computer terminal but in the workshop I wear this." From nowhere I could see, she had produced a hairnet. "It really scares the boys. They think I look like their Granny and the idea of dating me palls in front of my eyes. That suited me fine."

The method we used, was to take a lock of hair and by pulling downwards on the razor cut we were each left with a form of layered cut. Within half an hour I was feeling rather peculiar as the bottom of my neck felt bare. I'm sure Kari, who I appeared to have cut more from, was feeling the same. We brushed the residual hairs out and jumped into the shower.

We were expecting there to be only lukewarm water but Abba had left us loads of hot.

Over to you Kari.

Kari

Here I am again! Now I'd better take it up from here because Abba is in bed and Sarita's gone to check on some medicines. I think she really wants to feel she's not breathing down my neck.

I was a bit nervous after the shower but Sarita knew why I'd agreed to let her insert the IUD. She started really professionally, "As you have not had any children, I'll tell you, it's going to hurt."

"I know. Why say it again?"

"Because I'm nasty. I was trained at SISM."

I was attentive now. She had her 'professional' voice on. "SISM?" I was thinking of what did Acronym stand for; Something Internal Sexual Medicine ... it niggled me, "S.I.S.M?" I repeated.

"SISM, The Spanish Inquisition School of Medicine."

'Are you really a doctor?' I began to wonder. And she identified my lack of confidence.

"No I can't be, I haven't got a stethoscope." She did show me her ID card from the hospital, "See, A&E Department. See, I'm qualified on motors just like you. That means Ambulance Engineer and I'm a specialist, you know, windscreen* wipers."

It was the way she said it, as if it was true. I couldn't t even stay on my feet. She had me rolling and flopping about on the floor. By this time I was in hysterics and she lifted my feet up and it was she who was crawling around the floor. "Now, where's the wiper motor situated?" She tickled my pussy and said, "I'm used to women leaving them all messy. I'm pleased you've cleaned up your windscreen of all the hairy stuff."

Now that's one way to get over the shyness of a patient.

After that I didn't feel uncomfortable about her 'peering up my pipes'. Yes, that's what she called them. She certainly knew what she was doing. Her bedside manner was hilarious coming from someone with no clothes on.

"Now, this is a little cold antiseptic cream." Well, she did warn me! Then she got down on hands and knees peering at me. "I've got to check up your layout. The manufacturer tended to be bit haphazard in fitting things in the same place. No common parts you see."

I wondered what she was on about at first. "To the boss man," she indicated up towards the ceiling with a rubber-gloved hand, "a uterus is a uterus. He shoved in whatever came to hand. In your terms, he might have Ford vagina and shove a VW connector to the cervix and then add a Mercedes uterus." She shook her head and had me in stitches.

"And the angles! God knows who he entertained as pipe bender, probably never passed his apprenticeship. I mean some of the angles of entry into the uterus! You'd sack the man who bored the hole in the wrong place." And it was the emphasis on 'bored' that left me in no doubt as to her innuendo.

All this was in semi-darkness. Her head was down below my line of sight. I could see her raise a rubbered finger in the gloom, changing the direction it was indicating as she spoke. "Some like this, some like that and even some like this ... and some squiffy* to one side."

Exaggerating disappointment she sounded, "But yours is ordinary, an easy approach, It's OK. It's not a Friday afternoon bodged* job like that car you were telling me about."

I could really get to like her. She was in her element. She must be a terrific doctor.

"Now let's just open up the speculum a little more, shall we?"

Heh, I'm not going to go through all the details of my innards except she had warned me it would hurt and fuck! One moment I saw her threading something into a minute tube. She held it up in the beam of the torch. It was a good torch. It was wind-up model and we hadn't had to rewind it once since we came in the bathroom. I could just discern a tiny anchor-shaped thing she pulled on a string and it disappeared from sight back down the stem of the tube.

Ten seconds later there was a very, VERY uncomfortable feeling and sharp too as something made me want to writhe about. I didn't.

"I told you it would hurt!"

"Er, I'm not so sure I want you to do this."

"That's it."

"That's it?"

"I'm done and I've only had two customers come back with something wrong."

"You said, you'd had none."

"Yes but I never inserted the IUD in those two." Then she destroyed my confidence in her by giving an explanation. She leered, "I always told any who came back to ask for Doctor Johnson. We all do that so we can say we've never had any failed procedures."

I thought she was serious until I saw her face in the light as she was winding up the lantern again. She was winding me up.

And then we started giggling.

I stood up and walked around.

"It's still there."

"I hope so and you'll feel it like that for twelve hours or so but after twenty-four hours, it won't be so uncomfortable. After two days, if it's painful tell me. I expect you to know you have it in for about a week and then you'll come to me and ask me to check because you think it's fallen out. With some women they still notice it as a niggle for months; rather like hole in the tooth they know is there but they can live with. I've not had any patients come back to the clinic after four months with a problem. This style of device, has proven relatively trouble-free but there are always some women it just does not suit."

"Er, can I? Tonight?"

"Kari, you can resume active sex at any time. You are on the pill. Take your tablets for a few days and then leave it up to the IUD. If you react normally after 48 hours, you can jettison your tablets."

She added thoughtfully, "In our circumstances, now, it has to be the most appropriate defence against attackers. I wish I had one in."

"Why don't you?"

She snorted "I'd want someone with my training to insert it, not some sixty year-old apprentice plumber called a GP who has read all the books and never done the procedure under the nose of a Gynie Specialist."

By this time she was sorting stuff out. "Now I've got to put away my paraphernalia and pack it with my med kit. You go and give our Lord and Master a massage."

Yes, I was wary about walking. I didn't tell her but I was still a bit wary of having sex. She sort of expected it of me. Was I rushing into it a bit fast?

Inside the bedroom, it was still warm from the central heating. What was the point of putting on a tee-shirt if I was going to take it off again?

There he was, lying down on his side, facing the wall. The polite young man had shorts on. They would be coming off later. Gently, I tried to ease him around so that he was face down in the centre of the bed. I ran my fingers up and down his calves and soon found that his leg muscles and thigh muscles certainly needed some attention.

Initially, I tried to keep away from his inner thighs, and then moved over to his back when he began to get restless. Either side of his backbone I applied a lot more effort with my fingertips and thumbs.

Only then did I take a deep breath and kneel on the bed, lifting one leg over his side. Then I leaned forward down to his shoulder muscles. To be honest, this was not the best way to get into the top of his shoulder, and soon I was stretching over the length of his back.

The first time, one nipple brushed over his bare skin I jumped and retreated in surprise but quickly thought, 'This is great fun'. Any reticence that I had harboured originally was forgotten as I made a point of brushing my breasts forwards and backwards across his back. I was getting turned on and was secretly relieved I was prepared. 'Thank you, Sarita'. He had lovely skin and underneath he was all muscles. That surprised me for a slim man.