Chapter 13: Research And Development

"What time is it now?"

"I still don't know. It's still dark. It can't be six o'clock yet, that hooter hasn't gone off."

"On a Sunday?"

"Every day. Five times."

"Russ. Let's go, now."

"Without saying goodbye to Ethel? We can't..."

"We can. We ought to. A clean break. That's the only way." She got up, kneeling there, fumbling for her clothes. "These are all wet. My jeans are freezing."

"You can't wear them. We'll have to wait until later, and get them dry before we go."

"Sod it, I'll go without." She found her sweater and pulled it on. "I can see a little bit now." She bent and fiddled around for a moment with the gas fire. "That's better!" The heat increased, and the glow turned the room a pale blue. "What's in these bags?"

"Ethel brought them up. They were upsetting Herbie, for some reason."

"Great. Here we go. Pair of tights. They'll do me until we get to the car." She was dressing quickly, hopping around while she fought to get her boots on. "I shouldn't hop without a bra, you know," she giggled. "Stop gawping at me and get dressed!"

Russ was galvanised. His trousers were crumpled up on the floor. He got them on at the third attempt. Sally was already zipping up her jacket. She stooped and picked up a blanket, folding it roughly and plonking it on the counter. Another, and another.

"Jesus! This one's soaked. How embarrassing!"

"Soaked?"

"Our mutual juices, dear heart! You must have noticed how moist I was, and you came about a gallon. Each time."

"Sally!"

"I exaggerate. But it's very wet." She folded it loosely and laid it separately on the floor. "Whose blankets are they?"

"You know that nanny from the top of the street? She's only a kid, but she's quite tasty..."

"Like me, you mean? How big are her... ?"

"Never mind her tits. She brought the blankets earlier. She must have known there were people going to be spending the night here."

"Okay. Have we got everything? Put your coat on. Have a bag. Oh, shit! Me jeans!" She stuffed her wet jeans into the top of her bag. "Right. Got the cards with you?"

He checked. "Still here. I still think we ought to..."

"Russ. No. Let's get out of here before they wake up." Sally led the way to the door. "What about the bell?"

"I wrapped a hankie round it. Go on, it's not locked."

It was bitterly cold outside, but the snow had stopped. Away across the viaduct, the sky was brightening. "Careful," she said. "It's all icy. Let's go!" And she thrust her hand through the crook of his arm. Strangely, somehow, there was no moment where the snow and ice gave way instantly to dry cobbles. It seemed that they passed down the alleyway between the two sloping walls and emerged into a crisp end-of-millenium morning. Diesel fumes drifted up from the station as they broke into a run up the ramp into the multi-storey car park.

"Don't take me home, Russ, please. Call at your house first. I need the bathroom."

She did, too; squirming desperately until he unlocked the door, then rocketing ahead, tearing at her clothes.

Ten minutes later she appeared, shamefaced. "Tights weren't designed for easy removal. It's all right, I'll take them home and sneak them into the wash. Erm ... if you want the bathroom, I should give it a few minutes. Toast and coffee? I've washed my hands." She began opening cupboards and drawers.

Russ was pushing buttons on the answering machine. Two messages, both from Claire.

"She sounds cheerful. What was she saying about me?"

"She didn't say. Just that she'd found somebody in London that would be of interest to you."

"She can't fix me up with a boyfriend! What makes her think I'd like the same sort of guys that she..." She stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"She's going to call again at twelve."

Sally stirred two mugs. "Good!"

"Good?"

"We've got four whole hours!"

"Sally!"

"To sort out this stuff from Ethel. What did you think I meant?" She upended the first of the bags on the kitchen table, draping her wet jeans over the back of a chair. "Bras ... shirts ... she hasn't kept any of it. Sensible, I suppose. If she had a load of 1990s stuff hanging around, she'd never be able to explain it. Herbie's Reeboks. Not a good idea, Sally! What's in yours?"

He took out the mugs and set them in a row. "Had Mickey Mouse been invented in 1928?"

"I dunno. How many packets of three did I give you?"

"Six?"

"The crafty little slut's kept one. Or Herbie has, the two-timing little bugger..."

"She's kept the tea-bags as well. Sensible girl, our Ethel!"

Sally took his arm. "It's the only way, Russ. It will hurt both of you..."

"She's got Herbie, Sal."

"She loves you, but she's doing the only sensible thing she can do. You'll both get over it..."

"I won't forget..."

"I didn't say you'd forget. I said you'd get over it. She won't forget, either. She never did, you know?"

Russ buried his face in his coffee mug. Suddenly, he put it down. "She never did?"

"You do know who Ethel was, don't you?"

He stood, head bowed. And nodded.

"I worked it out some time ago, but didn't know whether to tell you or not. Or even if you'd worked it out for yourself. It was one more reason for you not to give her a baby. I'm not sure, but if you're not related to Ethel yet, you're going to be soon enough. Don't ask me what the relationship is, though."

"Do you think it worked? Going back again?"

"I think so. That's why I didn't really want to see Herbie. Too dangerous. But once you said they were an item, I thought, great, we've hacked it. Let's face it, the story has got a sort of inevitability about it, the way it is now. Having a baby by an alien visitor has to be a bit far-fetched. No, I think we've taken things back to the way they should be."

"But have we changed anything by going back?"

"I think we cleaned up after ourselves fairly well." She giggled. "Apart from that cum-soaked blanket, anyway! We've got all my clothes back, and the mugs. All we've left behind are disposable items. Bringing stuff back in this direction isn't so important. Things like Herbie's ridiculous hat. And your boots!"

"Do you like them? Only ten bob, including the socks."

"If you ask me, I think they saw you coming."

"If we have changed anything, we'd notice it, wouldn't we?"

Sally shrugged and took a gulp of coffee. "Not necessarily. It was ages ago. If anything was changed, it would be so long ago, we'd think it had always been like that." She scratched her armpit, like an animal. "I need a shower. Come on!"

"Where?"

"To the bathroom, of course. We're going to soap each other all over. All over! Especially under our arms, and between our legs, and under my immense and beautiful young breasts. Then we're going to bed for a couple of hours. And we're going to sleep."

"Sleep?" Russ felt a sense of relief.

"Well, afterwards!"

The phone woke them. Sally stretched, cat-like, and smiled as she curled against his hard body to listen.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Hello, you. I got your messages." Russ mouthed the word 'Claire' at Sally, who nodded and licked his nipple.

"Where were you?"

"Staunchbury."

Claire accepted that without question. "Look, I was hoping to come back tomorrow, but I just saw the weather forecast. We're going to have some of the white stuff."

"White stuff?"

Sally pulled a face, mouthed 'White stuff?' at Russ, tried not to snigger.

"Hello? You still there, Russell?"

"Y ... yeah. White stuff?"

"Snow, you idiot. It's started already here, an hour ago, and it's settling already. It might last a couple of days, they said. I'll call you again on Tuesday, okay?"

"Oh, okay!"

Sally clenched a fist and waved it triumphantly above her head, then burrowed beneath the bed covers. She emerged to hiss a question at him, then crash-dived again.

"Sally said ... I mean, what were you saying about Sally?"

"Sally? Is she there now?"

"Sally? Here?" He doubled up as she caressed him intimately.

"Relax," she smiled, surfacing again briefly. He relaxed, and felt himself engulfed in a wet tunnel. A tunnel with an enterprising tongue.

" ... Are you listening?"

"Claire? Yes. What did you say again?"

"Oh, I've found a place to get bras that might be cheaper than the one she uses. It's a bit of a journey, but it's only like a couple of times a year, isn't it? Cindy told me about it ... she's got a friend who always goes there, and it's only just down the road from Rumbolds'. Well, about a mile, actually, and the other side of the High Road, but there's a subway so it only takes a second to get across once you've walked down there and there are lots of interesting shops and darling boutiques on the way, so it's like no hardship at all, really ... are you listening?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Of course."

Sally's tousled head appeared, her hand making wind-up motions. Then she got tired of waiting, threw back the bed covers and concentrating hard, raised her delicious rump above him. With a devilish grin, she slowly impaled herself.

"I said you'd better get yourself back to bed and get some sleep. I go away for a few days and you get too many late nights. Gotta go! I'll call you Tuesday, okay? Love ya!"

"Love you," he said flatly.

"Two-timing bastard," Sally cackled, as she leaned forward, squashing her vast breasts between them. What was all that about, then?"

"Bras."

"Claire's bras?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"There's no such thing."

"She didn't really say. She was going on about her friends and shops and stuff the whole time. A bra shop just down the road from Bogdanov's, or something."

"I doubt it," Sally laughed and snorted. "Bogdanov is her friend Cindy's dog. No wonder she gets mad with you. You never listen to a word she says!"

"You're as bad as your sister."

"But I'm learning fast..." She shook her tits in his face. It brought Russ back to matters in hand.

"I can't think why Claire would suddenly take it into her head to grow breasts."

Sally sat there for several seconds. "She wouldn't know what to do with them if she did. Things like this!" She wriggled herself around for a while, and interesting things began happening. Russ found himself wondering if she had been taking lessons from her mother, but dismissed the thought. She bent forward again and wrapped her breasts round his ears, something even her mother would be hard pressed to do. "We've never tried it this way before," she hollered. "Lisa says it's..."

Her eyes opened wide and she sat up straight.

"Fuck me! Lisa was right again!"

"I've got a free morning at school tomorrow..."

Russ groaned. "That doesn't mean you can stay here all night."

"Is littoo diddums getting tired, then? Is gweat big nasty Sally wearing Wussell out, then? I've done all the work the last six times," she complained happily.

"It's impolite to keep count of the number of times."

"I've cheated," she giggled. "I've been keeping a tally on a piece of paper. Anyway, it's probably nearer ten times than six. It's dark outside now." She dismounted easily and swayed out to the bathroom, magnificently naked. Minutes later, she came back in at a run and launched herself on top of him.

"Stop it, you bully!"

"It's snowing like billy-oh outside. You'll be able to wear your new boots to the office."

"I'm not going to the office tomorrow."

"Having a day off sick to recover from twenty-four hours of unbroken love-making? Where's your stamina?"

"It's not twenty-four hours..."

"Not yet, perhaps. I'm going to the library in Staunchbury. And to the Gazette offices." She rolled to one side and slid beneath the bed covers.

To his amazement, Russ found himself hardening again already. "Doing some research for history?" He wanted her again.

"Something like that. You need a shave. I thought I'd find out about Ethel. Would the library be better, or the newspaper?"

"The paper. It will be hard work, though. What did you want to find out?"