Chapter 7: A-Level Biology

"Not Thursday night, Russ. I go out on Thursdays. How about Friday? Sally will be round at her girlfriend's place doing their A-Level Biology Project. I'm free on Fridays. Come round then, all right?"

Sally's mother looked different, somehow. Younger, or something. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"But what sort of job is it?"

"Just a bit of maintenance in the bedroom. It needn't take you long. You can take a look at it and see how long it will take you."

Was it the bra? She was wearing one, you could see the undersides of the cups.

"What tools will I need?"

Sally's mother spluttered and almost choked on her coffee. "Oh, just the usual. If you need anything special, my husband left all his tools here when he disappeared. But I'm sure you'd prefer your own. I know which I'd prefer."

Just the undersides of the cups. The tops seemed to be just soft, wobbling flesh. She was nearly as big as Sally up top. What was she wearing, some kind of push-up bra? Around the house? Strange woman.

"W ... what time on Friday? I'll need to tell Claire. She might have arranged something else."

"Claire will understand, don't worry. Half past seven? It's not too early is it? How about seven o' clock?"

Her nipples didn't seem to fit in the bra, whatever design it was. Surely those weren't her nipples! Not sticking right out there? And her areolae. Like beer mats. You could see them right through her blouse.

"Okay, then. Seven o' clock."

"Make it half past six, if you like! I'll be in all afternoon. Just drop in as soon as you're ready. Young Sal won't be coming home from school, she goes straight to her girlfriend's. So we won't be interrupted."

"But you said short skirts were all the rage in the Twenties," Sally pouted. Passers-by were staring at her, stepping off the footpath into the busy street, unable to take their eyes off the improbable vision in the caricature of the local girls' school uniform.

Russ grasped her arm and led her away into a side alley beside a greengrocer's. She smiled to herself as he backed her against the wall and looked her up and down.

"Look at you! How can you go travelling through time dressed like that? Do your teachers let you girls walk around like women of the streets?"

She giggled. "Of course not! I had to go into the public loo to put the finishing touches to this lot. What do you think of it?"

"Your skirt's miles too short. I can see the tops of your stockings..."

"Get off your hands and knees, then!"

" ... And what have you done with your bra?"

"Yes," she admitted, pulling her blazer aside and thrusting her chest out even further. "It is a bit uncomfortable with the straps pulled up tight like this. But it looks pretty spectacular, doesn't it! It makes me wonder if I've started growing again. That would be really embarrassing... !"

"Let them down, at once! And pull your skirt down!"

"Russ! I'm surprised at you. Here, in the middle of Staunchbury?" She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her skirt and gave a preliminary wiggle of her hips. Devastating things began happening up above the waist.

"'Scuse me, guv, lady!" A hulking youth came round the corner with a pile of empty boxes and dropped them on the ground. He grinned salaciously at Sally, who looked uncomfortable, then he made off to fetch another load.

"Come on!" Russ dragged her away.

"I'm coming! There's no need to pull my arm off." She was keeping up with him in a series of leaps which were causing passing drivers to pay insufficient attention to the task in hand. Horns sounded and squeals of tortured rubber echoed around the crowded market place. Russ slowed down and Sally immediately clutched his arm and fell in alongside so their thighs moulded together like lovers. He could feel the heat of the girl's immense breast even through great-grandpop's overcoat. "I knew you'd see sense, Russie. Are we going to Archdeacon Street now?"

Outflanked at every turn, he headed for the churchyard. Sally's arm went round his back. If she got any closer, she'd be inside the coat with him. He felt in his pocket for the card, and realised with a sickening lurch that it wasn't there.

"What's the matter?" She looked up into his face.

"The card. I swear it was in my pocket."

"In your pocket? Ah, you mean the card that lets you in to the Twenties? A business card from the photographer's shop... ?"

"Yeah. It was in my..." A thought came to him. "Ah, no. I remember. I took my coat off and transferred the card to my back pocket. Safer in there. Here it is!"

He felt Sally release her grip around his waist. She walked by his side with a certain stiffness. Russ didn't notice. It was a relief that Sally wasn't wrapping herself around him any more. A man's not made of stone, after all. Although part of him was certainly doing its best to prove that it was.

An erection lasting seventy years! Or was it minus seventy?

Russ was relieved that things were starting to return to normal down below. It was going to be difficult enough explaining Sally's presence to Ethel without having to wrestle with his cock at the same time. The girl seemed perplexed about something. She still held his hand after stepping through the gateway into the Twenties, but her fingers weren't entwining with his in that intimate way of hers.

That's teenage girls for you, he mused. Always blowing hot and cold. Blowing! A thought sprang unbidden into his head, triggering a wholly unwelcome resurgence of interest from his loins.

Wrapping his coat around him, he pushed open the door of Number 12a.

"Sally! You look stunning!" Ethel leapt on the girl as if they had been parted at birth. There was a great coming-together of bosoms on a scale rarely seen. Herbert cowered behind the counter, his face the colour of freshly boiled beetroot. "And Russ, darling! You brought Sally. How thoughtful of you!"

Meanwhile, Sally was greeting Herbert in similar vein. Russ exchanged sympathetic glances with him over Ethel's shoulder. Ethel, meanwhile, had made a little discovery. Not so little. She began rubbing herself slowly up and down against him as they hugged each other. It was fairly distracting, and the effect was predictable. Ethel clenched her fingers behind Russ's waist, and leaned back, biting her lip and fluttering her eyelashes. Her well-supported breasts were still substantially in contact with him, as was her over-heated lower half.

Sally came out of her friendly clinch with Herbert. The poor boy was shuddering, and he stood with his bottom thrust out in a clearly unsuccessful attempt to conceal his condition from Sally. She worked her hips against him before cupping Herbert's backside and slamming him against her. His expression of horror turned to resignation.

"Your bra looks amazing, Eth!" Sally looked back over her shoulder. It had the effect of thrusting her boobs into Herbert's face. She shuffled him round so she could continue her conversation in a more comfortable position. "It's one of my old ones, did Russie tell you? When I was twelve."

"Golly, you were a big girl, weren't you!" Ethel provided the desired response.

Sally wriggled her devastatingly well-filled school blouse under Herbert's chin. "I've brought you some more. Different colours. There's a really sexy black lacy one there. Mum nearly had a fit when I came home with that from the bra shop. She doesn't mind what I wear now I'm seventeen and legal." She grinned down at where Herbert was trying to breathe through the mountains of flesh. Considerately, she moved her tie out of his face and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Oooh, gosh, Sally! Can we go and try them on? Herbert can look after the shop." Ethel let go and stood back, giving Russ a moment to adjust his aching manhood.

Sally bent to kiss Herbert once more, almost suffocating him, then she disengaged herself and patted her blazer pocket. "They're in here," she confided. "The other girls in my class wanted to try them on this morning, but none of them are anywhere near big enough to fill the cups. I bet you can, though." Sally was evidently in a state of high arousal, her lips full and glistening, her nipples poking out through her reinforced bra cups, as fat as hot-house strawberries.

The two women went off, holding hands like eager lovers.

"Wow!" Russ staggered to the counter and leaned on it with both hands. Poor Herbert was bent almost double in his agony. "Sorry about that, mate. Young Sal's a bit over-enthusiastic. If I were you I should sort yourself out down below before she comes back and snaps it off."

Herbert uttered a grating sound and clutched at his groin with deep embarrassment. He sneaked away into the corner by the door and began extensive rearrangements to his underwear.