Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Scratch My Itch

   by John Michaels

   (c)2003.  All Rights Reserved

   Chapter 1

   "I think I've got it," said my wife.

   I was reading the newspaper.  "Got what?", I asked, absently.

   "That infection there's all the fuss about.  You know."

   I did, of course.  Suddenly she had my full attention.  And not just my
ears - a bulge formed in my trousers.

   "Er - yes, I think so.  Anything I can do?"

   She looked at me with suspiciously-bright eyes.  When she blinked, I
could see the teardrops beginning to form.  She spoke slowly and
distinctly, trying to keep herself under control.  "You can fuck me.  Right
now, please!"

   I fumbled with my shoelaces.

   "No time for that, you bastard - keep the trousers on!" she shrieked. 
She already had her pants off, and was crouched on all fours on the rug.

   I unzipped, and knelt behind her.  Reached between her legs and started
fingering her clit."

   "Hurry up, Jack!  No foreplay - please, just get on with it!" She was
nearly hysterical by this time.  I hurried.  Before she'd finished
speaking, my cock was inside her, ramming away well.  She didn't seem
pleased.

   "No!  NO!  UP THE ASS, YOU IDIOT!"

   I gulped.  We'd done it a couple of times before, out of curiosity, but
she hadn't liked it.  I'd enjoyed it a lot, as an asshole is quite a bit
tighter than a cunt.  I got a kick out of bringing Sue to orgasm, though,
so I'd never made an issue of it.  She preferred the cunt, so I did too.  I
stood up.

   "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?  GET BACK HERE NOW!"

   "I'm getting some cream, love."

   "FUCK THAT!  I NEED IT NOW!  PLEASE!" Her face was buried in the rug,
her hands clasped tightly behind her neck.  Her fingers were white with the
strain.

   I knelt back down, and probed her asshole lightly, then brought my cock
up to the target.  I tried to push it gently, but as soon as she felt it
inside her, she rammed her butt at me and nearly knocked me off balance.  I
was up to the hilt in her ass, and I wasn't fucking her.  She was fucking
me.  All I could do was try to hold position, as she slammed back at me
over and over again.  I came in seconds, great spurts of semen shooting up
her back passage.  We both crumpled to the floor, spooned together, with my
cock still inside her.  Her breathing was ragged.  Well, mine wasn't too
steady, either.

   Eventually, I disengaged and found her some tissues, then poured us a
couple of drinks while she cleaned up.

   "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.  "What was it like?"

   "Like a red-hot knife!  Like an army of fire ants, all crawling around
in my ass and biting!"

   "But it's OK now?"

   "Fine now." She smiled, a little weakly.  "A bit sore, but there's no
way I could have waited while you found something to lubricate me.  Get
some KY, and keep it in your pocket ready for the next time, please."

   "There'll be a next time, then?"

   "Oh, yes.  Until they find a cure, we'll be doing this every couple of
days."

   I knew that.  The infection - the 'fuck plague', in street slang - hit
suddenly, as it had with Sue.  One minute fine, the next, the red-hot
knives.  It had been reported first a month ago.  So far, no cure had been
found, though a good fuck made it go away for a day or two.

   "But ...  the ass.  That's unusual, isn't it?"

   "No, Jack.  It isn't.  Just doesn't get talked about in the papers much.
One of my friends has it both ways, front and back.  Her boyfriend's
delighted!"

   "Well, I'm not!  I don't like to see you hurting.  Maybe I can do
something about it."

   "Medical research is a little out of your line, surely?"

   "I do DNA research.  This is some sort of new critter.  Maybe I can find
something in its genes that can stop it."

   "I wish you would, Jack.  Until a half-hour ago, I thought it was funny.
Sort of like a dirty joke.  I'd heard what it was like, but hearing about
it and feeling it are nothing like the same thing.  Nothing at all.  If you
can make it stop for good, you'll be making a lot of girls very happy."

   "And grateful?" I asked, with an expectant look on my face.

   "I'll be grateful for all of them, love.  No more 'headaches'.  No more
'not in the mood'.  Just find a cure, and you can have me any time you
want, any way you want."

   "It was that bad, huh?"

   "It was.  And I don't want a lot of pretty girls being grateful at you!"

   She didn't mean it, of course.  Women never do.  But there were other
advantages in finding a cure.  Rich and famous, for instance.  Anything I
worked on, in my own time, outside my sponsored field of study, was mine to
sell.

   I grinned.  "Come on then - what are you waiting for?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, put your knickers back on and come with me to the lab.  The
sooner I get started, the sooner I can claim my reward."

   "Now?  I'm worn right out!"

   "Ok.  I can start off here, but I'll need some equipment.  I'll go and
get it."

   "Oh, no you don't!  I'm coming with you.  And until there's a cure for
this, I'm staying as close to you as I can manage."

   "You'll be all right for a couple of days.  Everybody says so."

   "And supposing while you're out my cunt catches fire?  Do I wait here
screaming for you?  No way!  I'd be out of the door and raping the first
man who came along."

   "What?  Even poor old Ellis from next door?"

   "Even him.  He's eighty years old, takes ten minutes to pass by our
window, and smells like a badger, but I just know I'd not be able to stop
myself!"

   She chuckled.  I chuckled.  Then, suddenly, we were both howling with
laughter at the released tension, and the vision of poor old Mr Ellis lying
prone on the pavement with Sue sitting astride and riding him for all she
was worth.

   Eventually, we mopped our eyes and headed for the laboratory.  It was
out of hours, but as a senior researcher I had 24-hour access.  To all
parts of the building, which was useful, as our first stop was the medical
research section.

   I pointed to an examination couch.  "Pants off, on there, butt upwards,
please."

   Sue complied.  I applied a neutral lubricant to her anus and to the
speculum I was holding, then inserted it.

   "This shouldn't take long," I said.  "Sorry for any discomfort."

   "Don't worry, your lordship.  It's been stretched recently, remember?" I
certainly did!

   With the anal sphincter stretched open, I was able to shine a light
inside.  As I'd expected, there were some purplish nodules, pinhead-sized,
on the rectal walls.  I carefully scraped some off, and put them in a small
jar containing warmed nutrient.  After I'd taken the speculum out, Sue sat
up and looked at the jar.

   "That's them?"

   "Don't you mean 'those are they'?"

   "Tonight's been pretty weird.  I'm taking a time-out from grammar.  None
of my students are around, you're not going to say anything about tonight -
_are you_?" - I shook my head - "so if I want to break the rules, I will.
If I feel the need to wantonly split an infinitive, I'll just go ahead and
do it.  So - that's them?  Did you get them all?"

   "That's them, yes.  But I didn't get all of them.  There are hundreds,
and from what I've heard, there's no point in trying to get them all.  They
just grow back."

   "You've heard?"

   "Yes.  There's a little research going on right here in this lab. 
You're not the first lady with your problem to lie on this couch.  So,
first thing tomorrow, I'm coming in here to pick some brains.  Find out
what they know that I don't, add in whatever I know and can find out, and
we'll see where we go from there."

   I dropped the speculum into the steriliser tank.  This was the Medical
Research section's biggest triumph - a liquid that sterilised thoroughly,
without heat.  Bacteria, viruses - even the little almost-alive prions -
every particle of organic matter was taken apart by it.  It had been sold
all over the world, and had made a fortune for our laboratories.  A godsend
to the medical profession, it had also been used by at least one murderer
as a high-tech way of disposing of his victim.  Still, as I pointed out to
Sue at the time, there's no such thing as a completely benign scientific
discovery.  Everything good can be used for something bad, given enough
imagination.  I picked up another speculum, and a fresh nutrient jar.

   "Right.  Back on the couch, face up this time."

   "What for?  Nothing wrong up there ...  yet ...  Oh.  I see."

   "That's right.  I'd like to catch some in the early stages if possible."

   She lay down without protest, knees up and wide apart.  I used the
speculum and light again.

   "Anything there?" asked Sue.

   "As a matter of fact, there is.  There were hundreds in the rectum, but
there seem to be thousands here.  Only they're pink, not purple.  So, maybe
not active yet." I took my samples, closed the jar and removed the
speculum.

   Sue sat up.  "Are we done yet?  Can we go home?"

   "I intend to work here all night.  But I'll take you home first."

   "No way!  Like I said, I'm sticking right next to you!"

   "Not a chance.  You've got your work - there are a lot of kids looking
to you to help them get their degrees.  And I've got mine.  Which I won't
be able to do with you hanging around looking for sex all the time, like
some overage groupie!"

   "Overage?  At least I've still got a full head of hair, not like some
people here." She knew where to aim the low blows, all right.  That's what
ten years of marriage does.  "And I won't be after sex _all_ the time,
mister!  Just when I need it!"

   I grinned at her.  "And where were you when I needed it?  All those
years, all those tears, pleading, bleeding ..."

   "Not the same, and you know it.  You just felt a little bit of pressure
from your gonads, that's all.  NOT red-hot fire-ants!"

   "I give in!  Just don't hit me again!  Seriously, though, you can't give
up your work and haunt this place ...  look, since the 'treatment' lasts
nearly two days, suppose I give you a workout every day.  Then you're
safe."

   "Both sides?  Every day?  Are you up to it?"

   "You bet I am, love!  I know we normally only make out once a week if
I'm lucky, but I'm good for a lot more than that!"

   "Can you prove that?  Right now?"

   We had a wonderful time on that examination couch.  Usually, when we
made love I had to try very hard to delay orgasm, to give Sue a chance to
enjoy herself.  This time, not only was she in the right frame of mind at
the outset, but I'd already had my balls milked once that evening, and
could last more or less as long as I wanted.  And I did.  After her fourth
- or maybe fifth - climax, I finally let myself go and filled her cunt with
the same creamy goop that had done her ass so much good an hour or so
earlier.

   She tottered off the couch, standing with some difficulty.  I junked the
disposable covers and started to sterilise the plastic surface.

   "Wow," she said, finally.  "What turned _you_ on so hard?"

   "Usually, it's a week or more between our little outings.  I'm trying
not to cum too soon.  So I have to think about anything _except_ what we're
doing.  This time, I could just relax and enjoy it."

   "So, what you're saying is that it's better twice in a day?  Why didn't
you tell me that years ago?" She chuckled.  "Oh, yes, that's right!  You
have mentioned it once or twice, now I come to think."

   I mimed wringing her neck.  "Yes.  Once or twice.  Or maybe a few
thousand more.  You finally agree with me?"

   "Oh, yes, Jack, yes!  It's so much better!  I'll tell you what - instead
of once a week, we'll have to do it twice in a day, once a fortnight!  How
about that?"

   "Fair enough, love.  So, today's the fourth.  Let's arrange the next
double-fuck for the eighteenth.  Will you be ready by then?"

   She suddenly looked serious.  "Joking apart, Jack.  While I've got this
...  problem, I'll need you twice a day, _every_ day.  You won't let me
down, will you?"

   "I won't, honey.  You know that."

   "Yes, I do really.  I'm just scared.  You've no idea how much it hurt,
or how suddenly it came on.  About a minute's warning, then WHAM!"

   "And when it's all over, you'll put me back into my kennel, I suppose?"

   "I don't know ...  I'll try not to, love.  Maybe not twice a day, but
I'll try not to fight so hard.  Oh, God, I hope it does end one day."

   "Me, too."

   As we left the room, I looked fondly back at the couch.

   "Want to buy it as a memento?" asked Sue.

   "Maybe.  Or perhaps just a small, tasteful plaque over it.  Saying
something like _Jack Harper had the best fuck of his life on this couch_."

   "Make that _Jack and Sue Harper had the best fuck of their lives_," she
said, demurely.

   On the journey back, we discussed what we'd heard of the disease.  The
first known cases were reported a month before, in North London, a couple
of miles from where we lived.  It had spread rapidly; the number of cases
was into five figures and nearly doubling every day.  It attacked women
only - to my great relief, as I wanted neither red-hot fire ants up my ass,
nor the alternative.

   Nobody knew who found that fresh semen 'put out the fire', but it was
discovered very early on, and the word was passed like wildfire, probably
by the men.  Elderly women didn't get it - the oldest was around sixty. 
Young girls seemed fairly immune, though there were a few cases.  One of
these read like a black comedy.  An eleven-year-old girl suddenly started
screaming in the middle of a family meal.  Her mother realised what the
problem was, and begged her husband - the girl's stepfather - to do what he
had to.  He obliged.  After he'd shot his load into his little
stepdaughter, the girl came out of her hysteria to find him on top of her.
She looked to the side, to see her mother holding her hand and trying to
smile through the tears.  "Oh, Uncle Harry.  Is it all right now?  I
thought you didn't want me to tell mummy," she said.  Uncle Harry was now
in hospital suffering from knife wounds.  Police were waiting to charge him
with 'a number of offences of a sexual nature'.  The mother had been
questioned about attempted murder, but released without charge on police
bail.  The little girl, after much discussion with the social services and
questions raised in parliament, was being serviced by the fourteen-year-old
boy next door, who had been her friend for years.

   "I'd like to find a cure, if only for that little girl," I said.

   "Yes, but then who's going to tell her to stop?" asked Sue.  "How can
you tell a girl of that age that sex is ok, and necessary to stop the pain,
then turn right around and tell her not just that she doesn't need to do
it, but she's not allowed to - and won't be for another five years.  Not
easy!  The word on the street is that she wants to move in with the boy."

   Normally, in a case like this the child protection laws meant that we
would hear nothing at all, or very few details.  But the Fuck Plague was on
everybody's lips.  Everything got passed around, and grew in the telling.
We'd heard of the secretary who raped her boss (and was given an immediate
salary raise), of a girl running into a crowded restaurant screaming for a
volunteer (a young waiter led her into the linen cupboard; she tipped him
on the way out), and many similar stories.  Urban myths, maybe.  Or maybe
true.  If Sue's reaction was typical, then I was willing to believe more
than I would have done the previous day.

   Sue came up with one I hadn't heard.  A company board meeting.  A big
company, one of the biggest in the country.  The (all-male) board were
sitting around after a good lunch, probably discussing how much more they
could pay themselves without the shareholders sacking them.  Suddenly one
of their number started screaming.  Thinking that the plague was spreading
to men, the other directors kept their distance, except for one of them,
who was gay.  He took the victim into the executive washroom, and started
to apply relief.  Then realised that 'he' was a 'she'.  She'd managed to
keep her gender secret through a horrendous twenty-year climb up the
exclusively male promotion ladder.

   I left Sue at home, promising to come back at eight o'clock for
breakfast, a shower, a change of clothing, and to give her ass another
reaming.

   Back at the laboratory, I started some tests running on the nodules I'd
removed from Sue, and then slipped into the Medical section to read up on
their notes.  Mostly, they seemed to be doing what I'd have done in their
place.

   One thing seemed clear.  It wasn't semen that gave relief, but sperm. 
Men who'd had a vasectomy were no use at all.  Their wives had to make
other arrangements, with or without their husbands' knowledge.  Another
thing was that the purplish nodules were not cell clusters, but single
large cells.

   So, they'd taken their purplish cells, put them under the microscope and
introduced fresh semen.  Sounded dull when written down in scientific
terms, but I could imagine the scene.  Hilary, a large-chested blonde who,
in spite of stereotypes was one of the best upcoming scientific researchers
in the country, looking into her microscope and screaming at her
assistants: "Come on!  Come on!  We need that semen NOW!" I smiled,
wondering if they'd suggested that she help them get the samples, and
whether her dedication would win out over 'office discipline'.  Being
wanked by a big-titted blonde would certainly be quicker than solo methods.

   Reading on, I saw that there was reference to a video clip.  I located
it, and ran it on the big TV screen.  There it was.  A solitary purple
nodule, occupying about half the picture.  Suddenly, from the left of the
screen, came a rush of sperm cells.  They seemed to be attacking the big
cell, hundreds wriggling their way through the cell wall in an almighty
gang-bang.  The colour of the cell changed, over about twenty seconds, from
purple to pink.  The notes explained that the cells remained pink for about
a half hour, then began changing colour.  After another thirty minutes,
they were purple again.  Forty or so hours after that, the problems
started.

   And the nature of the problem was this: the pink cell produced a stew of
chemicals, mainly hormonal in nature.  Or rather, _quasi_-hormonal.  They
weren't quite like any human or animal hormones currently known. 
Newly-purple cells produced more of the same.  Then, after that forty-hour
rest period, they produced a different mix, containing at least two very
irritant chemicals.  They felt like strong acid, and in fact they were
slightly acidic, but the effect was similar to a spice reaction.  Like the
ultimate vindaloo, I thought.  _This_ was where the fire ants came from. 
Something that the sperm did turned the cell from purple to pink, and
switched off the most painful of the chemicals.  What the others did,
nobody yet knew.

   So, what had the sperm done?  Penetrated the cell, yes, but that wasn't
enough.  They'd tried pricking the cell all over, but it remained the same
angry purple.  So, what was a sperm?  Basically, just a parcel of DNA.  And
what was my speciality?  Good.  I might have the edge over them, after all.

   And why women?  Why not men?  It seemed that testosterone inhibited the
growth of the cells.  Didn't kill them, but stopped them developing.  It
was a promising line of enquiry - any woman who didn't mind growing chest
hair and a moustache, losing the hair on her head and having her voice drop
a couple of octaves, could be protected from the disease.  But this
treatment wouldn't cure anyone who already had it.

   Tests were currently being conducted with live sperm from other species
- frozen bull semen was available in large quantities via the farming
industry.  Bull semen?  I thought about it, and grinned.  It was logical, I
supposed.  They were obviously looking at a system for injecting semen to
abate the symptoms, rather like artificial insemination.  Bulls produce
more semen than human males do, by a very big factor.  With the added
advantage that there was no risk of pregnancy or sexually transmitted
disease.  Sensible, but I reckoned that most women would find it pretty
distasteful.

   There were a few notes on how the disease was being spread.  Nobody was
too sure, but there seemed to be a general drift with the wind, so it could
be airborne.  And that was where the team stood so far.  Not a lot to go
on, but pretty good for a condition which was unknown a month previously,
and only recognised as a threat in the last few weeks.

   I tidied everything, and went back to my laboratory.

   The machinery was clicking away, cheerfully analysing the chemicals
produced by both the pink and purple cells.  What was the purpose of all
these hormone-like chemicals that they were producing?  This might be the
key to the whole thing, and it didn't look as if anyone else was looking
for it.  They were researching only the irritant secretions, not the
'harmless' ones.  I sacrificed one cell of each colour, to start a full
analysis of the cell structure.  Enzymes, nuclear DNA, mitochondrial DNA,
the works.  The idea was to try to show a difference between pink and
purple, then work out how to turn purple into pink without all that
squelchy sex stuff.  I figured that most of the men on the planet would
shoot me rather than let me find the answer to that one!

   With everything set up, there was nothing for me to do for a couple of
hours.  I set an alarm timer and went to sleep on my office chair.  It woke
me, I checked the results, set up a few more tests, set the timer and dozed
again.  My normal way of handling a nightshift when I needed to be firing
on all cylinders the following day.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 2

   Eventually, the long night was over.  I went home, gave Sue a wake-up
kiss and a coffee, and made breakfast.  She came into the kitchen, looking
mussed and sleepy.

   "Good morning, my love", I chirped.

   "Why are you sounding so cheerful?" she grumbled.

   "Because the sun's out and the birds are singing, my darling wife."

   "Nothing to do with last night, then?"

   "Partly, I suppose.  I've taken the first steps on the road to a Nobel
Prize.  Probably a knighthood as well.  That's enough to make anyone
cheerful, surely?"

   "I didn't mean that, you bastard!  As you know!"

   "Why?  Did something else happen last night?  Oh, yes, that's right.  I
had some of the finest sex a man could wish for, and I've been promised
another dose for this morning and again tonight.  Isn't life grand!"

   "It is for some people, I suppose." Sue poured herself another coffee
and slumped back into her chair.  "You're up for it, then?  Working all
night didn't leave you too tired?"

   "I'll manage.  For you, no sacrifice is too great." I ducked to avoid
the toast which was suddenly frisbeed across the room at eye-level.

   We went back upstairs.  This time, there was no pressure, so I could
treat Sue's ass a little more gently.  She lay face-down on the bed, a
resigned expression on her face.  Using the KY that I'd bought on the way
home, I penetrated her as softly as I could, gradually working up to speed
and depth.  Not wonderful, but when a man fresh out of the desert is
offered a glass of water, he doesn't complain too much about the taste,
does he?  It was a fuck, pure and simple.  A week ago, I'd have called it
marvellous.  It only seemed flat compared with the session on the couch the
previous night.

   We showered together - not for romantic reasons, but because we couldn't
agree on who was to go first.  Still, I managed to fool around a bit, and
her mood improved.

   Before we made our separate ways to work, Sue made me promise to keep my
mobile with me and switched on at all times.

   "Why?", I asked.

   "In case I need you in a hurry, that's why!  My college is five minutes
from your lab.  Four if you hurry.  So, if I call, you drop whatever you're
doing - and I mean WHATEVER - and start heading my way.  If I'm up to it,
I'll be driving your way, so watch out for me.  If I feel myself going,
I'll pull over and wait for you.  In the back seat.  Right?  Got it?"

   "Uh, yes.  You should be ok, though.  Forty hours at least, everybody
says."

   "If I didn't believe that, there's no way I'd let you out of my sight.
This is just a backup plan.  In case what 'everybody says' turns out to be
wrong."

   "Fair enough," I said.  "I haven't made out in the back of a car for a
long time now, but I suppose it'll come back to me."

   "It will.  I guarantee it."

   At the laboratories, I checked on my little machines, made a few more
notes and set them ticking away on some new problems.  I'd managed to catch
some of my semen as it dripped out of Sue's ass.  The sperm looked pretty
dead, but I set some of the machines to analyse them anyway.

   Over in the medical section, things were happening.  Another research
team, from University College Hospital, had figured out how the plague
transmitted itself.  They'd found airborne spores, which attached
themselves to mucous membranes.  If they were well inside the cunt or ass,
they turned into pink cells and multiplied, eventually turning purple.  If
they were in the mouth, they tended to attach to the tongue, where they
looked very much like taste buds.  None had been found anywhere else in the
mouth, or in the throat, the lungs, or the nasal passages.  They remained
pink, never turning purple and never producing the irritants.  What they
did produce was more of the spores, thousands of them, which the victim
breathed out to keep the infection going.

   Everybody was excited about this.  If we could only get all women,
everywhere, to wear face masks, then they wouldn't breathe the spores out
where other women could get infected.  And if they weren't infected, they
wouldn't catch it.  Not the mouth-borne variety, anyway.  Trouble was, we'd
found this out too late.  The spores were everywhere.  With what we knew
now, we could slow the transmission, but there was no way we could stop it.

   I gave Hilary an edited version of our overnight visit, told her a
little of what I was working on, and quizzed her on the latest state of
play in her lab.  She was fairly forthcoming, but was obviously holding a
few things back.  This was one cure that every scientist wanted to find,
and to hell with scientific co-operation!  Oh, we'd talk to each other,
sharing some of the information, but we all kept our best theories to
ourselves.

   "So, Hilary.  How are your bull-semen experiments going?"

   "Oh.  You read about that idea, then.  No, it doesn't seem to work. 
Sperm that's been frozen and then thawed just doesn't do the job."

   "Why not?  It works fine on cows, surely?"

   "It's not lively enough.  The walls of the purple cells are quite a bit
tougher than egg cells, and it takes a fresh, strong sperm to work its way
through."

   "So can you use fresh sperm?"

   "It has to be _very_ fresh.  Straight from the producer, in fact.  In a
matter of seconds, no matter how carefully we handle it, it's weakened to
the point where it's useless."

   "So, you'd need a room full of women with their legs apart, waiting. 
And the bull next door.  As soon as he's done his business, an army of
nurses pick up their syringes, load up and charge into action!"

   "I might have known you'd think it was funny," said Hilary.  "Repeat
after me.  This is NOT a laughing matter!"

   "Sorry, Hilary.  I know it isn't.  Seeing Sue in agony last night
convinced me of that.  It was pretty frightening.  Have you seen it?"

   "Seen it, Jack?  I've _BEEN_ it, for god's sake.  Right here in this
lab, last week.  Mike helped me out."

   I thought, fast.  Hilary was a lesbian, in a committed relationship. 
Her partner worked upstairs, in administration.

   "Um, what did Jackie think of that?  Or haven't you told her?"

   "Of course I told her.  I could hardly keep it a secret - for one thing,
there were a dozen people watching!  Plus, I knew I'd have to repeat the
medicine just about every day.  Mike doesn't have a girl at the moment, so
he agreed to take on the job.  To make things easier, he's moved in with us
for the duration, and helps us both out."

   "What?  Jackie's got it as well?"

   "Yes, but she's better off than me.  She only has the vaginal form -
I've got it both ways.  Mike's being very good about it, and he's managing
to keep up with both of us.  But I think he's praying that Jackie doesn't
start needing it up the ass as well - that would put him over the edge."

   "I think I know how he feels, and I only have one woman to see to. 
Three times in less than ten hours has left me feeling ...  um ...  drained
is the word, I suppose."

   I decided to point out an anomaly to Hilary.

   "How long did you say it was before the pink cells go to purple?"

   "About a half-hour, normally."

   "And they stay purple until they're inseminated again?", I asked.

   "That's right."

   "That's what I thought.  Well, the cells I took from Sue's ass were
purple, right enough.  It was about an hour after we'd ...  well, anyway,
the point is that during the night they went back to pink again."

   "What?  Without sperm?  Are you sure?"

   "Unless somebody sneaked into the lab while I was dozing and added some,
yes."

   "This needs looking into - we may be on to something!", she said,
charging down the corridor with me trailing in her wake.  I caught up with
her just inside my lab, and showed her the cells.

   "Hmmm.  Just as you said.  Can I have some of these?"

   "Sure - they're multiplying beautifully.  Take all you need."

   She fizzed out with her precious cargo.  I was glad she'd gone.  Just
watching her at speed made me realise how tired I was.  I carried on with
my work for an hour, then a stranger walked in.

   "Hi - are you Dr.  Harper?  Hilary sent me to beg some cells from you."

   "And you are?  Oh, yes, I know you.  But I'm afraid I've forgotten your
name.  From University College labs, with the details about the spore
transmission?"

   "Richards.  That's right.  Hilary showed me your pink-only cells.  They
look very interesting."

   "So she said.  And yes, you can have some."

   I'd been expecting requests like this, and had made up several jars of
warm nutrient, with a few dozen cells in each.  "Will a couple of these do?
You only have to wait a while, and you'll have more.  They're dividing
pretty fast."

   "Yes, they do.  At least, in the third phase they do."

   "Third phase?"

   "First phase, pink.  Second phase, purple.  Third phase, purple with
irritant secretions.  If you've got dividing pink cells, you may have found
a fourth phase.  Or are these just wrong-coloured third phase cells?"

   "No.  There's no irritant being made.  I added a little bromothymol to
the nutrient, because I wanted to test them again while they were producing
it.  The dangerous chemicals are slightly acidic, so the bromothymol would
have gone yellow if there was any about.  But there's no yellow, so no
irritant.  They seem quite harmless, and have for - I looked at the clock -
fifteen hours now."

   "Then they might still produce irritant after forty, like the purple
ones.  But why are they still pink?  And how are they dividing without
producing irritant?  Well, I'll get to work on it.  Thank you very much. 
Obviously, we'll share any results with you."

   "Obviously," I said with a smile.  He smiled back, knowing that he was
as anxious as any of us to be 'first with the news', and knowing that I
knew it.

   "You'd better hurry, though," I said.  "Hilary's been working on them
for a half-hour now.  And she's good."

   "She is, isn't she.  Looks more like a movie star than a scientist, but
she has an impressive brain."

   "But as you say, that's not what looks impressive at first glance!"

   "Yes", said Richards.  "A real cap-turner, that girl!  Er - you don't
mind me saying that?"

   "Cap-turner?"

   "Where have you been lately?  Haven't you seen the baseball caps?"

   "No.  Well, I might have done, but I really don't know what you mean."

   "Baseball caps with a logo on the front," he said, patiently.  "The logo
reads 'S2S'.  Still no clue?"

   "I'm afraid not."

   "Stands for 'Spunk to Spare'.  When a girl feels an urgent need, she
looks around for guys wearing the cap, and picks one she likes.  After he's
solved her little problem for her, he turns the cap around.  And when he
starts feeling the urge again, like when he sees a really ...  um ... 
fuckable woman, he turns it to display 'S2S' again.  I'll bet Hilary sees
caps turning in her direction all down the street." He smiled.  "It's quite
good fun being a man at the moment, isn't it?"

   I found myself irritated by his tone.  "I suppose it is," I snapped. 
"More fun than being a woman, anyway.  And a LOT more fun than being a
lesbian."

   "Lesbian?  Hilary?  Oh, dear.  What a waste."

   "Well, she's not being 'wasted' at the moment.  She and her partner have
had to call for a volunteer.  And before you ask, yes, the position is
filled.  And it's not me."

   "Sounds like just a touch of jealousy there, old sport.  Don't worry -
there's plenty to go around." He winked furtively, and left.

   Having arrived at work late, I decided to balance things by leaving
early.  Well, I had worked through the night, so I felt entitled.  Anyway,
I had to write up my notes, and this could be done more easily at home. 
The labs were getting pretty chaotic, with a lot of people working all
sorts of strange hours, and I felt like a bit of privacy.

   I did a couple hours on the laptop, then took a break.  I made a quick
bolognese sauce and put the pasta ready, then went back to work.  It was
another two hours before Sue showed up.

   "Hi, love," I said.  "Are you ready to eat?"

   "I certainly am.  I skipped lunch today."

   "Not watching your weight, are you?  Maybe I shouldn't have done pasta."

   "No, that's fine.  My weight's the least of my worries at the moment."

   I dropped the pasta into boiling water.  "There.  On the table in five.
Ok?  So, why did you miss lunch?  Another bloody meeting?"

   "I intended to eat.  Went to the refectory feeling hungry, but seconds
after I arrived a girl started screaming for help.  She'd had time to
choose a boy, but there wasn't time for them to get out of the room.  They
climbed under a table, and a dozen or so other students surrounded it."

   "Spectator sport, eh?  That sounds a bit unpleasant."

   "Not at all.  They were all standing, facing _outwards_, away from the
table.  It was to give the poor girl some privacy."

   "That was pretty thoughtful.  I'm not sure my group at uni would have
done that."

   "And I'm certain mine wouldn't, Jack.  But the way they did it, like
clockwork.  They'd had a _lot_ of practice.  I suddenly thought of all
those girls crying with pain in that room, and I didn't feel hungry any
more.  I just went away, and walked around the campus thinking about what
I'd seen.  The _maturity_ of those kids.  I have to find out what they
know, and how they found it out."

   We ate, and talked some more.  Sue started to watch some television,
then noticed that I'd dozed off.

   "Come on, you!", she ordered.  "To bed - you're not off duty yet!"

   She pushed me up the stairs, and on to the bed.  I'd woken up by this
time, but decided to play possum.

   "Wha ...  I can't do this, Sue.  I have to get some sleep!"

   "But you promised!  You can't let me down now - I won't let you."

   She started to take off my clothes.

   "No, love, please!  Can't we do this in the morning?" I was reading from
her usual script, but she didn't notice.  By this time, she'd got us both
naked and was lying on top of me.  I had a half-erection, and was trying to
think myself into an ice-cold bath to make it go away.

   She sat astride me and grabbed my shoulders, then shook me like a rag
doll.  Since I was trying to think 'limp all over', my head lolled
convincingly back and forth.

   "Oh, god!  Am I going to have to do this by myself?", she screeched. 
She reversed herself into a surprisingly expert 69 position, and started
kissing my prick.

   As she couldn't see my face any more, I opened my eyes and admired the
view.  Wow!  Reading from south to north, a pair of firm, shapely thighs,
narrowing to a wonderful tuft of pubic hair.  Her cuntlips were wide open,
and inflated to show the pink inner lips.  Clearly, she was as turned on as
I was.  (Uh-oh!  Quick - think of ice-cubes, and snow-covered mountains! 
She gave a moan of despair, and went back to work.  I went back to the
view.) Her clit was standing prominently out from her vulva.  I noticed it
was a slightly darker shade of pink than the rest.  Very pretty ... 
further north, there were the two beautiful half-globes that comprised her
ass, with her light-coloured, puckered anus peeking out from between them.
I was glad to see that there didn't seem to be any damage from last night's
rough treatment.

   By now, I had a full erection.  Either Sue hadn't noticed, or she was
enjoying herself too much to change around.  She was working in a frenzy,
with lips, tongue and hands.  The tip of my cock was repeatedly banging
against the back of her mouth, and once or twice seemed to go in further,
as if it was slipping partway down her throat.  Her tits were slapping
against my midriff.

   I lifted my head, inhaling the musky perfume of her cunt, then started
probing it with my tongue, my fingers gently rubbing her clitoris.  This
seemed to bring her to her senses.

   "So you're awake at last?  Have I done enough, or do you need some
more?"

   "That'll probably do, love," I said.  She seemed disappointed, but I
knew I was about to burst, and she wouldn't be pleased to get it in her
mouth after all the work she'd done for her cunt's benefit.

   She reversed again, fitting my erection into her pussy.  We kissed,
exchanging some genital juices along with the saliva.  It tasted wonderful,
and I came in a sudden, blasting orgasm that was unlike any I'd had before.
I held her asscheeks down firmly, making sure all the sperm went as far
into her as possible.

   "You bastard!  All that work, and I don't get to climax!"

   "Sorry, old dear," I said.  "I thought this was purely medicinal. 
Didn't know we were supposed to enjoy it."

   She started to pull away.

   "No, love - hold it there for a while.  That's four times now in less
than twenty-four hours, and the dose might be a bit short on sperm.  Let's
not let too many escape, eh?"

   This wasn't strictly true - I knew from my lab work that she was quite
safe, but I was enjoying the feeling of being inside her, and the taste of
my prick on her lips.  When she climbed off, she'd be straight into the
bathroom for a shower and a mouthwash.  I wanted the smell of sex to last
as long as possible.

   Fifteen minutes we held that position, talking about everything and
nothing.  About our first time, arguing about our worst time, cars we'd
owned, friends we'd known.  Every now and then we'd stop and kiss, or I'd
nuzzle her ear, or she'd try to raise a love-bite on my neck ...  she knows
I hate it, but she likes to try now and again.  This time, I let her get
away with it.  _Everything_ felt good.

   Eventually, my dick slid limply out of her under its own weight.  She
gave me a final kiss, and started to get out of the bed.

   "Would you do me a favour, love?", I asked.

   "I might ...  you've been quite a good boy tonight.  What is it."

   "When you go into the bathroom, don't shower and don't wash your face."

   "What?  But I stink!"

   "You smell wonderful, Sue.  I want to enjoy it some more.  You can wash
it all off in the morning before you have to face your students."

   "Ugh - all right.  I didn't know you were a pervert!"

   "Me and Napoleon, both, love.  Remember the message he sent to Josephine
when he was on his way home?"

   "Of course I do.  It arrived a week before he did.  It said 'don't
wash'. I always knew there was something odd about frenchmen."

   "I must have some french blood in me then, because I love it!"

   After a quick cleanup Sue was back.  She hopped into bed still naked.  I
went to sleep holding her, taking deep breaths of her wonderful, natural
perfume.

   My awakening was a bit of a surprise.  Unique, in fact.  Sue was at the
bottom of the bed, feet on the floor, body under the quilt between my
outspread legs, and head buried in my crotch.  In short, she was giving me
another blowjob!  I didn't know how long she'd been giving me the
treatment, but I was already fully erect.  Considering the workout that
little piece of flesh had had recently, it was a wonder it was still
attached to me, let alone performing so well.

   "Sue!", I said in a stage whisper.  "I think there's somebody in the
room with us!  Sue!  Where are you?"

   She took my cock out of her mouth before answering.  "I'm down here, you
dope!"

   "What?  That's you ...  surely not!  What on earth are you doing?"

   She surged up underneath the covers and slammed herself down on my
chest. "I'm trying to attract your attention, idiot!  Have I managed it
yet?"

   "Uh ...  yes.  I do believe you have, ma'am.  And what can I do for
you?"

   "You can fuck me, stupid!", she replied.

   "Was there a comma in that, your professorship?  Are you calling me
stupid and asking me to fuck you, or are you asking me to fuck you until
you're unconscious?"

   "I meant the first, but I wouldn't mind the second, if you can manage
it. I've been lying awake here for THREE HOURS.  I can't sleep.  I need a
fuck, and I need it big time."

   "Three hours?  That's nothing.  I've been awake and needing a fuck for a
lot longer than that before now.  Quite often."

   "Yes, but ...  but you're used to it!"

   "And why is that, my hot little honey blossom?"

   She sighed.  "All right.  I admit it.  I've kept you on short rations
for years, and I'm sorry.  Now, PLEASE.  Are you awake enough to give me
what I need?"

   "All right, I'll do it.  But I hope you're not expecting another dose of
spunk up you, because that part's all wore out."

   "Please yourself.  As long as you please me ...  NOW!"

   She rammed my prick inside her, and bounced up and down.  I managed to
time my upthrusts to match her downers, and she came in a sudden,
shuddering climax.

   She lay limp on my chest.  "Oh, god.  I needed that, Jack.  Thanks.  How
are you feeling?"

   "I feel ...  well ...  raped, I suppose.  That's twice you've raped me
in a day and a bit.  And the other three times you were giving orders,
rather than asking permission.  You're turning into a bit of a sexual
predator, my angel.  Not that I'm complaining ..."

   "I'm sorry.  Was I brutal to you?"

   "Yes, you were.  Now let me show you how it should be done, in a
civilised manner."

   We were still coupled, and I managed to roll us over without
disengaging. I started giving her a series of long, slow strokes.

   "Oh, no, Jack ...  I couldn't manage it again ...  I'm tired ...  I need
sleep ...  no ...  stop ...  don't ...  stop ...  don't stop ...  don't
stop ...  keep going ..."

   Her words tailed off into a series of incoherent moans, and her hips
started bucking against me.  I carried on long-dicking her, slowly, gently.
Her climax built.  I could feel it coming, in the sudden urgency of her
hips, in the movement of her hands on my back, in the way she tossed her
head from side to side, and in the sudden slipperiness of her cunt.  As it
started to arrive, she bit my ear, hard.  And then released it to utter a
loud, piercing shriek.  I made a mental note to buy some earplugs, and
carried on with the long strokes.

   "Please, Jack!  I can't.  I'm begging you ..."

   This time the orgasm came quicker, the screech louder.  I carried on.

   I gave my beautiful wife five 'civilised' orgasms to add to the one
she'd stolen from me.  Then I rolled off her.  She smiled, kissed me on the
cheek and fell fast asleep.

   I held her and drifted off myself.  She smelt even better than before.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 3

   We both slept through the alarm.  Understandable in my case, as I was
catching up on sleep.  But I woke first, to find Sue cuddling up behind me,
still comatose.  I turned over and just looked at her for a couple of
minutes.  She looked wonderful.  Relaxed and happy.  Was this the result of
a good sex-life, I wondered?  Or was it just that in her high-powered,
highly-talented life, this was the first time she'd ever really needed me?
And I hadn't let her down.  Yet.  I kissed the tip of her nose, and was
rewarded by a look of sleepy adoration.  Wow!

   "Good morning, angel!  I would have let you sleep on, but it's half-past
eight already, and we've both got things to do today."

   "We both_ have_ things to do, pillock!", she corrected automatically. 
Then the message sank in.  "Oh, my god!  Half past!  I have a tutorial in
an hour!"

   "So you'll be a little late.  So what.  You have a good excuse."

   "What?  That I was fucking half the night?  Oh, sure!  Great excuse,
that."

   "And again in the morning, remember.  Or do you want to let me off this
one?"

   "Oh, no!  I'd forgotten ...  oh well, I suppose you'd better.  But make
it quick!"

   Honeymoon over, obviously.

   She turned over to lay face-down on the bed.  I got out my little tube
of jelly, and applied it carefully to her anus, then to my trusty sword. 
The insert was easy enough - she'd loosened up quite a bit in the last
couple of days.  But then things started to go wrong.  I tried moving in
and out gently.  I tried slamming in and out hard.  Nothing.  A perfectly
good erection, but the earth certainly wasn't moving.

   "Come on, Jack!  Hurry up and do it!"

   "Sorry, love.  Nothing's happening back here."

   "I knew it!  You've been pleading for a chance like this for years, and
now when it comes you're not up to it!"

   "It's not that.  I'm rock-hard, as I'm sure you can tell.  It's just the
...  well, the _urge_, I suppose.  It's missing.  Maybe if you could let up
on the nagging, and sweet-talk me a little ..."

   "You're doing this deliberately!  That's what I say to you, isn't it!"

   I hadn't realised, but it was.  And maybe I was seeing things from her
point of view for once.  It's difficult to perform to order.  Mood matters.
I withdrew, and gently kissed the hollow of her spine.

   She turned to face me.  "Ok.  We've both just woken up, which makes
everything difficult.  Let's have breakfast first, then see how you manage.
But let's get moving.  Now!"

   We headed for the kitchen, both of us naked under bathrobes.  Sue
started the coffee, while I poured cereal.  By the time we'd eaten, the
coffee was ready.  We took a couple of sips each.

   "Right, Mr Wonderful.  You want sweet-talk?  Or a fantasy?  Who would
you like me to be?"

   "Uh ...  just you, I suppose.  I've never really thought seriously about
other women.  A bit sad, I know, but when I'm asleep and dreaming of
fucking, it's still you.  Sorry."

   "Really?  I'm impressed.  I thought that the whole point of being a man
was fantasies of dozens of women lusting after their body."

   "Not me, ma'am.  But, come to think of it, you've put your finger on the
difference between dream and reality."

   "Oh?"

   "Lust.  In my dreams, you're eager.  Not just willing, but eager to
enjoy yourself.  Like last night.  That's what was missing this morning. 
What did you say to me?  _Oh well, I suppose you'd better.  But make it
quick.  _Just like old times!"

   "I'm sorry, but I can't get too enthusiastic about having my ass fucked
first thing in the morning.  I know it's necessary, but I don't think I
could ever get excited about it."

   "Can you fake it?  I'm sure you know how."

   She grinned.  "Once or twice, yes.  But, now I come to think about it,
not very often.  Tell me, why have I been holding out against a sex life?
It's _fun_!  Why didn't I ever see that before?"

   "Maybe because I was nagging instead of sweet-talking.  That was quite
an object lesson upstairs.  I'll try harder in future, when this is all
over."

   Sue's face clouded.  She went deep in thought for a few moments.  "Can
you take some time off this morning?  If you can, I'll ring and cancel that
tutorial.  It's all I have to do until this afternoon."

   "Uh, yes, I suppose so.  But why?"

   "Because there's something we need to talk about.  About the future."

   She clammed up until we had finished breakfast, then rang in and
arranged for a colleague to take her tutorial.  I didn't bother - I could
more or less set my own hours.

   Eventually, we were sitting in the lounge with fresh coffees.

   "Right, love.  What's on your mind?", I asked.

   "Remember where we met?"

   "Yes, of course.  Not very romantic.  The cancer ward."

   "Right.  Both of our mothers dying with cervical cancer.  Made quite a
bond, didn't it?" Sue looked grim, as if speaking in a normal voice was an
unbearable struggle.

   "It was a bad time.  I'd have fallen apart without you.  I think I
helped you and your sister a bit, as well.  But what's this got to do with
our fut ...  oh, no!"

   Sue's eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, yes!  I've got it as well, now." She
finally lost control, weeping helplessly.

   I held her for the longest five minutes of my life, waiting for the
storm to die down.  Finally, I felt it safe to speak.  "But you've been
having regular tests ...  surely they can't have missed it.  It's in your
family, so they check you more often, and more carefully."

   She swallowed a few times, mopped her face and blew her nose.  "They've
caught it early.  At the moment, it's just 'abnormal cells giving cause for
concern'.  But the doctors know what it is, and so do I.  They want to
start treatment as soon as possible."

   We talked it out, through most of the morning.  Among other things I
learned was that her sister had shown the same 'abnormal cells'.

   "We had the news at the same time, a week ago," said Sue.  "Well, maybe
a few minutes apart.  She opened her envelope, sat down, and cried.  I
opened mine, sat down, and cried.  Then we picked up the phone and tried to
call each other.  Couldn't get through, of course.  So we switched to Plan
B."

   I knew about Plan B.  It was one of those things that people who didn't
know pairs of identical twins called 'uncanny'.  Sue and her twin _always_
tried to phone at the same time.  If one of them was hurting, the other
would feel uneasy.  They'd heard each other's engaged signal so often that
they'd evolved Plan B.  They put the phones down.  Jill, being the oldest
by ten minutes, would count to ten and dial again.  Sue would wait for a
full minute before trying.  Usually, she didn't have to.

   "So you told your sister, but not me.  Why not?"

   "I didn't know how you'd take it.  I saw you go to pieces over your
mother.  I was afraid you'd do the same this time.  And at the same time I
was afraid you _wouldn't_ go to pieces!  Does that make sense?"

   "You thought I didn't care enough.  Of course I do, you silly bitch!  So
how did you keep it from me?  You're scared stiff now - how could I not
have seen it?"

   "Just pretended it wasn't really happening.  It's quite easy to put bad
news out of your mind and get on with living.  It only hits me when my
guard's down.  Like when you started talking about the future.  I thought
about it, thought about how much past I'd wasted and how little future I
had, and something snapped inside."

   We talked on.  I knew plenty about cervical cancer - I'd seen my mother
die, and made a special study of her killer.  Advances had been made since
those days - it wasn't anything like as hopeless as it had been then.  And
prevention was being talked about.  There was an 'anti-cancer' vaccine
being tested.  It didn't do anything directly about the cancer, but it
prevented infection by the virus which seemed to cause 70% of cervical
cancers.  I'd made it my business to get Sue and her sister on to the test
program, and thought her safe.  Apparently she was one of the other 30%. 
Either there was another outside cause which hadn't been discovered yet, or
it was built into her genes.  I decided to tell her something about my
work. I hadn't up to now, because of the bad memories it would have brought
up.

   "I'm looking at causes and cures of cancer.  Cervical in particular,
that being the one I hate most.  I can't give you any details yet, but in a
month or so ...  all I'm saying is, don't despair.  It looks promising. 
I'm working to give us a future now, so that'll make me work all the
harder."

   "I thought you were working on the Fuck Plague?  You can't do both,
surely?"

   "Well, as it happens, the cancer stuff is in a 'wait and see' state at
the moment.  There's nothing very much I can do for a couple of weeks,
until some experimental results start building up.  So, I might as well
concentrate on the plague."

   "Thanks, Jack," she said.  "I really do believe you.  You'll find
something, or somebody else will find something, and Jill and I will be
cured and live to a ripe old age."

   "It'll be me.  I promise.  And if it takes longer than I thought, you
can both go on to the treatment program.  They're curing a lot of people
now, you now."

   "I know it.  Anyway, I feel better.  I'll go and sit with Jill tonight,
and then she'll feel better as well."

   "Knowing the way you two are connected, I'm willing to make a small bet
that she's feeling better already, without knowing why."

   At that moment, the telephone rang.  Jill.  Of course.  I left them
talking, and headed upstairs to shower and get dressed.  When I came down,
Sue was still on the telephone, smiling through floods of tears.  I had a
sudden vision of an identical face, with the same smiling, tear-streaked
cheeks, on the other end of the line.

   Sue put down the phone, and pouted at me.

   "C'mon, buster - what do you think you're doing?"

   "I can't sit around in a bathrobe all day, even if you want me to."

   "Not all day, love.  Just a few more minutes.  Let's try for that quick
one up the ass, then I'll let you go to work."

   I sighed, and started upstairs.  Last night was still so fresh in my
mind, so golden, that I didn't want another dreary session like this
morning ruining it again.  Still, it wasn't about what I wanted.  Not this
morning, it wasn't.

   Sue called me back.  "No, Jack.  Not the bed.  That's what was wrong
this morning, wasn't it?  After last night, that bed's for making love, not
for fucking.  And now I know the difference!  So, let's try it on the
couch."

   We stripped, and I sat Sue on my lap.  We kissed, we fondled, we got
ourselves hot and ready.  Then I sat her on the edge of the couch, and
knelt in front of her.

   "Let's try it this way," I said, putting my cock into her eager cunt.

   "That's not what I need, love," she protested.  "It's what I want, sure.
But I need it up the ass.  Then I can go to work feeling safe."

   "What we'll do is this ...  a normal fuck, until I get near the edge. 
Then I pull out, put your ankles over my shoulders, and I'm there.  With a
bit of luck, we'll be making love for five or ten minutes, and only fucking
for a few seconds.  All right?"

   "Yes, Jack!  Sounds great.  But ..."

   "But what?"

   "Let's practice the changeover, shall we?  If you're too near the edge
and we fumble it, that priceless spunk goes all over the carpet.  And I'll
have to go next door to Mr Ellis."

   So, we practiced.  A few strokes into her cunt, then I shouted _Action
Stations_, picked up her legs and draped them over my shoulders, and aimed
for the ass.  A good thing we'd practiced.  The first time, she was too
tight and I had to go upstairs for my KY.  After that, it worked better,
but I still fumbled it a bit.  By the fifth rehearsal, her asshole was
gaping open and ready for me, and I had the aim right.  So, we went for it.
The practicing, and the laughter that went with it, had put us both back
into last night's 'lovemaking' frame of mind, so I wasn't surprised when
Sue climaxed first.  And again.  And again.  By the time I felt the fires
beginning to build, I'd lost count.  She seemed to be in a state of
continual climax.

   Eventually, I called the magic words, rammed my dick into her ass, and
pumped for all I was worth.  With her legs over my shoulders, with my dick
deeply buried in her back passage and filling it with semen, my wife
climaxed again, and passed out cold.

   I arranged her on the couch and covered her with her housecoat.  I was
about to go upstairs to clean myself up, when the telephone rang.

   "What are you doing to my sister?", an angry voice demanded.  "Let me
speak to her right now."

   "Sorry, Jill, I can't.  She's unconscious."

   "I knew it!  I just knew there was something wrong!"

   "No, sis.  Something's right.  Something that's been wrong for a long
time now."

   "Unless you start making some sense, I'm coming right over!"

   "Did Sue tell you about last night?" A fair bet.  There were no secrets
between the two of them.

   "Uh, yes.  She said she was utterly wanton, she was ashamed of herself,
and ..."

   "And?"

   "And she'd loved every minute."

   "Well, it happened again.  Last night, she asked me to fuck her stupid,
so I did.  And again just now.  She's sleeping it off on the couch."

   "Wow!  I'm not sure I believe this." Jill still sounded suspicious.

   "Come round here if you don't believe me.  Or wait ten minutes, and
she'll probably telephone.  She's out of it for now, but I think she'll be
up and about soon.  Just blew a fuse, right there on the couch." I grinned.
Jill's attitude to sex was the same as her sister's, as far as I knew.  I
guessed her husband would be in for a pleasant surprise once they'd
compared notes.

   Sure enough, Sue woke up five minutes later.  By this time, I'd sponged
myself off, come downstairs, and dressed.  I was putting on my shoes when
she came to.

   "What in hell's name happened there, Jack?"

   "Like I said to your sister, I think you blew a fuse.  All right now?"

   "Fine.  Absolutely wonderful, in fact.  Do you have to go to work?"

   "I do.  I want to make sure we have another fifty or a hundred years of
doing this."

   "Oh, yes please!"

   "You'd better phone Jill.  She was worried."

   "Why?  She was fine when we talked."

   "You were having one climax after another, then you blacked out.  She
tuned in to some of it, so you need to put her mind at rest.  Maybe you'd
better go round there this evening like you said.  I'd like to work late
anyway.  Back around tenish?"

   "That would be fine.  See you later, lover!"

   We often called each other 'lover', but this was the first time that it
felt true.  I left, still short on sleep, aching in quite a few places, but
with a lightness of heart that I hadn't felt for a long time.  If ever.

   I was seeing S2S caps everywhere, now I knew what to look for.  Mostly
pointing forward, but a few facing defiantly backwards, with the owner
wearing a satisfied grin.  While I was waiting in a queue at a set of
traffic lights, I saw a group of boys who couldn't have been more than
sixteen, and were probably more like thirteen or fourteen, all wearing the
caps.  A woman, looking to be in her mid to late thirties, came out of an
apartment block and went up to one of the boys.  The two exchanged a few
words, and walked into the building together.  The rest of the group
dispersed.

   I smiled.  When I was that age, this sort of thing was an impossible
dream.  Oh, we heard of it.  And read about it in dirty mags.  But this was
real.  A good-looking, experienced woman, wanting to give a young boy his
first sexual experience.  She probably chose a different one each day, at
about the same time.  That's why they'd all been hanging around.

   I mentioned it to Hilary when I reached work.

   "Yes," she said.  "She was after what we call an 'insurance fuck'.  You
don't want to wait until the ants start biting, so you make sure you get
serviced every day.  Like me and Jackie with Mike."

   "And me and Sue, come to that," I replied.

   The samples I'd taken were still pink, and so were all their little
copies.  Hilary had rung Richards, and he confirmed that the ones he'd
taken were in the same state.  Still pink, no irritant.

   "That's 36 hours now," said Hilary.  "If they're the same tomorrow, I'm
going to get very excited!"

   The cells were apparently healthy, and dividing well.  A few other
researchers had heard of the situation and called to discuss it.  Always,
they asked for a few cells.  And, of course, they got them.

   Hilary and her team were eager to call Sue in for testing, but I managed
to stall them.  After the tempests of the previous night, and the storms of
the morning, she needed a break.  A bit of quiet routine with her books and
her students, and an evening with her sister, would do the trick.  I said
I'd ask her to come in on the following day.

   Meanwhile, I pointed out that she was on the experimental anti-cancer
HPV vaccine, and wondered whether that might have anything to do with it.
They took that ball and ran with it eagerly, asking hospitals if they could
check up on other women on the vaccine program to see if they'd had the
same reaction.

   If I'd been a good, dedicated scientist, I might have mentioned the
'abnormal cells' as well, but there were some things that I had to keep
private.  If Sue wanted to tell them, fine, but I couldn't.

   Hilary started quizzing me about the exact progress of the plague in
Sue.

   "Has she had any more pain since the first time?", she asked.

   "No," I replied, "but I've been keeping her pretty well serviced,
precisely to avoid it."

   "She's only felt the pain in the anus, you said.  Not the vagina?"

   "No, though she's definitely infected there.  I've labelled the rectal
cells 'A' and the vaginal cells 'B'.  So far, I haven't been able to find
any difference between them."

   "And when you examined her, how many cells did you see?"

   "Fairly widely spaced in the rectum.  Maybe about five to ten
millimetres apart.  A lot closer than that in the vagina.  The whole inner
wall looked to be covered with them, no more than a couple of millimeters
between each."

   "Look at these," said Hilary.

   She showed me a sheaf of photographs of infected vaginal wall.  The
photograph labelled Day 2 looked quite a lot like the anal infestation I'd
seen in Sue.

   "Day 2 is where the pain starts," she said.  "Which matches what we know
of your history.  Now, how about the vagina?"

   I looked further through the photographs.

   "I'd say it looked a lot more like these ones.  Day 8, Day 9, Day 10. 
I'm going from memory, but certainly more cells than the Day 7 picture."

   "And how often did you have vaginal sex in that period?  From, say, ten
days before you saw the infection?"

   "Um ..." I grew embarrassed.  Wasn't a man's sex life his own business
now?  Well, no it wasn't.  Not when both Hilary and her partner were being
shafted on a daily basis by her lab assistant.  "I'm not too sure.  Maybe
once, maybe not at all.  I really can't remember.  But not more than once.
I'd have remembered."

   "So, she'd been infected for at least eight days.  In that time, you had
sex at most once.  And she felt no pain!  She should have been in agony for
most of that time!"

   They became very excited.  I had to promise, over and over again, to try
to get her to come in the following day.

   Finally, they let me get back to my own work.  Several of the
experiments I'd set up the previous day were ruined, as I should have been
back first thing in the morning to take readings.  I had to do the long,
boring job of setting them up again.  And then back to the paperwork.  God,
I hated paperwork.  But this was important.  It could mean life or death
for Sue.  And I cared more about that right now than I ever thought I
could.

   I arrived home at nine.  As expected, I had the house to myself, and
hated it.  I logged on to the internet and checked for news about the
plague.  The TV and newspapers were being very coy, trying to work out how
much they could say without offending the so-called Moral Majority.  On the
net, I could see the picture much more fully.

   One thing was clear.  London was perhaps the worst place in the world to
try to contain a disease as infectious as this one.  It had spread to most
of the UK, and pockets of it were turning up in major cities throughout the
world.  No doubt from there it would spread out through the smaller towns
and into the villages and countryside.  It didn't kill anyone, but
everybody was running scared of it.  At least, the women were.  Surgical
masks were becoming a fashion item across the world, but didn't seem to
help much.  The spores were everywhere, and the ladies had to at least
loosen the mask a little when they were eating and drinking.

   Men, worldwide, were in two minds about it.  Obviously, they didn't want
their wives to be hurting.  Of course not.  And they'd do anything to keep
the disease away from their daughters.  Still, wouldn't it be nice ... 
they read the news from London, and wondered.  A Spaniard had written a
satirical poem entitled_ Come, pretty English lady, and breathe on my
wife_. It was quickly translated and e-mailed all over the world.

   One set of men who absolutely, definitely, didn't want the disease
anywhere near their homes were certain rich men, mainly arabs, who kept
harems of wives and concubines.  There would be no way, no way at all, that
they could keep all their women safe, happy and not hurting.  They'd either
have to shoot all but two or three, or invite some help in.  Neither
prospect pleased.  Some of them had sent their women and female relatives
into nuclear fallout bunkers for the duration.

   London was replacing Bangkok as the sex tourism capital of the world. 
Englishmen, beginning to buckle under the strain, were quietly glad of any
help they could get.  The male tourists couldn't catch the disease, of
course, but unfortunately they took spores back home with them, in their
luggage, on their clothes, on their bodies.  And so the plague went on
spreading.

   I sighed, and switched off the computer.

   A half-hour later, Sue came back from her evening with Jill.

   "How was it, love?"

   "Fine," replied Sue.  "That's two of us who are counting on you now.  We
both believe in you, so you'd better come up with some answers soon."

   "I will.  Just be patient.  When's your next checkup?"

   "In three weeks.  Jill and I are going in together.  They'll take the
smears, rush them down to the lab, and if the abnormal cells are still
there, we'll start treatment straight away."

   "Good.  That fits in with my research schedule.  If I've got it right,
your cells will show up as normal on the test.  Then you can start
believing me, and your future."

   "You think you'll have a cure that soon?"

   "It's looking good.  If it still looks good in ten days' time, I'll give
you, and Jill if she wants it, a gelatine capsule.  What you'll both need
to do is put it inside you, and hold it there with a tampon overnight. 
Repeat every day for ten days.  That takes us up to the day before the
test. That's the day that we'll see whether it's made a difference."

   "That simple?"

   "Simple for you, maybe.  It's taken me ten years to get this far, and
there's still more work to be done."

   "Surely if you've got a cure, you've got a cure.  What else is there?"

   "At the moment, the stuff has to be made fresh, and used within an hour.
I'll produce a new batch at the labs every evening and bring it straight
home.  It wouldn't work for a general cure - we'll need something that
lasts longer, maybe with a better delivery method.  And of course it all
needs to be thoroughly tested and licenced before anybody would be allowed
to use it.  It's completely unethical for me to use a human guinea-pig at
this stage.  Don't tell anyone, or they'll take away my lab coat."

   "It's dangerous, then?"

   "No, love.  It'll be safe.  I guarantee it.  It can't harm you - the
only question is whether it can cure you.  The licencing system is there to
protect you from mad scientists, not from me."

   "And you're not a mad scientist?"

   "Crazy with lust, maybe.  Otherwise no.  But it's your choice.  Stick
with the hospital treatment, if you'd rather."

   "No, Jack.  I'd rather stick with you.  And so will Jill.  And we'll
both keep quiet about it."

   "If Jill wants to try it with you, it would be a lot easier if she came
to stay with us."

   "And what about the fuck plague?  Or do you intend to service her as
well?", Sue asked, with a mischievous grin on her face.

   "Would that be anything new?", I asked innocently.

   "What do you mean by that, Jack?"

   "In our early days, the two of you swapped over quite a few times,
didn't you?  Before I learned to tell you apart?"

   "Uh ...  what makes you think that?"

   "Little things.  First of all, when I got to know the two of you and
your sense of humour, I figured it was the sort of thing you'd have to do.
No secrets between you, remember?  Of course you'd try out each other's
guys.  So I started a few innocent little conversations, and found that
quite often the Sue I was with wasn't completely sure about the fine
details of what the Sue of the previous night had been doing.  Pretty
close, but not quite there."

   "You surely wouldn't expect me to remember every little thing."

   "No.  At that stage, it was just a hypothesis, with a bit of supporting
evidence.  I needed some proof, and I got it.  Remember the foot massages?"

   "I do, yes.  You'd read a book about how a mutual foot massage before
sex made it better.  I think it worked, too.  We must try it again
sometime."

   "Yes, it was a lot of fun, wasn't it.  You and Jill both enjoyed it."

   "Both of us?  Are you sure about that?"

   "Yep," I grinned.  "I palmed a magic marker, guaranteed indelible on
skin.  Put a streak of it on the sole of your right foot.  Or Jill's.  I
never did know which.  Anyway, the following night it wasn't there.  The
night after, it was back.  Do I make my point?"

   "And you never said anything?"

   "Of course not!  The pair of you were enjoying your little games, and I
was enjoying trying to figure out which one of you I was with that night.
Why should I want to spoil it by letting on?  So, back to our original
point.  If Jill wants me to service her, and you don't mind, I'm willing.
It won't be a new thing for either of us.  Maybe it's her in my fuck
dreams, not you.  Or she could bring Frank with her."

   "Or I could go to stay with Frank.  He's not like you - he still can't
tell us apart.  Would that bother you?"

   I grinned.  "It'd bother me quite a lot.  Until a few days ago, the pair
of you were as interchangeable as two people could be.  But you've changed
some of your attitudes.  Remember last night, and the night before?  And
this morning?  I _like_ my new hot little wife.  I don't want the Ice
Maiden back again.  And contrariwise, if you did to Frank what you did to
me last night, he'd probably have a heart attack!  I don't want that on my
conscience."

   "Rest easy, milord.  Jill got the plague about a week before I did. 
Both ways.  Frank's been just about keeping up with her, but she's had to
do a lot of the work to help him out.  When she first told me about it, it
sounded like a disaster.  She was scared stiff.  By the time I caught it,
she'd relaxed.  She told me she was enjoying herself more than she'd ever
done before.  I didn't believe her, though.  I do now."

   "So, your performance last night ..."

   "That was Jill.  Oh, not literally, but I just did what she'd told me.
Still, I was able to get my own back on her this morning.  She didn't
believe it was possible to be fucked unconscious.  Now she can't wait to
try it."

   By this time, I was horny without needing any help from Sue.  We went to
bed and made love.  None of the past few days' gymnastics.  Just two people
quietly making each other very, very happy.  A lifetime of that would do me
fine.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 4

   Over breakfast, I broached the question of her coming into the labs for
an examination.  She wasn't keen.

   "Sorry, Jack.  With our family history, I've spent too much of my time
lying on my back with my legs apart while people poke around inside me. 
Why should I do it just to satisfy your workmates' curiosity?"

   "There could be something unusual going on inside you," I said.  I
explained about the cells I'd taken from her, which should have been purple
the following morning but weren't.  And the fact that she should have been
howling in pain from her vagina long before she came down with the
ass-ants.

   "So it's more than just curiosity - there's something different about
me?"

   "It looks that way.  The ones in the vagina look to have been there for
ten days now, without producing any irritant at all.  Usually, two days is
enough."

   "And the ass?"

   "We don't know.  They've generated the irritant once, if you remember" -
Sue shuddered - "but the ones I collected haven't done it since.  At least,
they hadn't up to last night.  If they're still pink and harmless when I
get to work, my colleagues would be very, very grateful if you'd come in
and help them to find out why."

   "You're thinking that the cells inside me have stopped producing
irritant altogether?"

   "That could very well be.  They'd like to find out."

   "So why the hell have I been wasting my time and energy with all this
sex nonsense?"

   "_Your_ time and energy?", I grinned.  "What about me?  You've been
riding me so hard I've lost ten pounds in three days!  I have to hold on to
something if I'm outside in a breeze, in case I get blown away!  Anyway, I
thought you were enjoying yourself."

   She smiled, softly.  "I am, Jack.  Very much.  Ok, I'll do your tests
for you.  But you'll have to come and get me.  I'm lending my car to a
friend for the day.  Without it, she'd be stuck on campus until hers is
fixed."

   We agreed that I'd go in to work, check on her cells, call her if they
were still pink, then pick her up at eleven o'clock, after her lecture. 
She started to lead me over to the couch for an ass-fuck.

   "Is this trip necessary?", I asked.

   "What do you mean?"

   "What we've been talking about.  Maybe you aren't going to need all
this."

   "Maybe not.  But until I've seen some evidence, I want to carry on with
the treatment as prescribed.  Or are you chickening out again?"

   I sighed.  "No, mistress.  Your wish is my command."

   As the previous day's session had been so successful, we went for a
repeat.  It didn't work quite so well, but Sue seemed very pleased with her
two climaxes.  I felt more relieved than pleased about my single.  Another
hurdle jumped.  But how long could I go on like this?

   Hilary grabbed me as soon as I got inside the door of my lab.  She'd
obviously been lurking there for a while.

   "Still pink.  Still no irritant.  All of them - yours, mine, and the
ones we've given away.  So, when can you get that wife of yours in here? 
We need her urgently!"

   I explained that I'd have to fetch her at 11am, and she was willing for
any tests they needed.  Hilary wanted to make it sooner, but as far as I
was concerned, Sue had a lecture to take and that was that.

   I made my call to Sue, setting up the appointment.  Hilary wouldn't take
no for an answer.  She grabbed the phone out of my hand, and tried to talk
Sue into coming in earlier.  She got the answer I would have expected - Sue
would be taking a lecture at 9.30, finishing at 11, and would then be
available for us.  Not before.

   At eleven o'clock, I was waiting outside the lecture theatre.  At twenty
past, I was still waiting.  Eventually, Sue came out, surrounded by a group
of students.  She spotted me, waved goodbye to the youths, and climbed into
the car.

   "Good lecture?", I asked.

   "Very good.  We didn't exactly cover what I'd planned, but it was pretty
worthwhile."

   "Oh?"

   "I'll tell you about it sometime soon," she said.  "Not right now,
though.  I've still got to get it straight in my head."

   Clearly, something had happened in there.  Equally clearly, Sue wasn't
going to talk about it.  I let it pass, and we discussed neutral subjects
during the short journey.

   At the lab, Hilary and her team were going frantic.  I noticed that
Richards from University College had come in, with a team of his own.

   "It looks like it's going to be a bit of a circus, love," Sue remarked.

   "Don't worry.  Your privates aren't going to be on public display, I'll
see to that."

   In fact, it wasn't too bad at all.  Hilary and Mike ushered her through
some curtains, emerging a few minutes later.  They both cradled sample
jars, holding them as if they were both precious and fragile.

   "Still pink, then?", asked Richards, eagerly.

   "Yes!", replied Hilary, a note of triumph in her voice.  Clearly, this
was the best lead they had.

   We all adjourned to a meeting room, where Richards started barking
questions at Sue.  She reacted to his clinical language by making hers as
coarse as she could.

   "How long since you last had intercourse?"

   "My last fuck?  Eight-thirty this morning, in the ass."

   "And vaginal intercourse?"

   "My cunt, you mean?  Oh, let me see.  About eleven o'clock last night.
Well, we fucked some more at about two in the morning, for about an hour,
but I did all the climaxing.  Do you need to know about my last blowjob as
well?  Or the last time we did a 69?  Would knowing the position help? 
We've found a new one for ass-fucks that works pretty well.  Yesterday when
we did it, I came so hard I went into a coma!"

   Hilary was grinning broadly.  Richards, on the other hand, seemed to be
losing his cool.  I remembered how he'd irritated me before with his
superior attitude to women.  Clearly, he didn't like being teased by one.

   Icily polite, he thanked Sue for her help, and asked if she would wait
outside.  I was torn between wanting to go with her, and wanting to know
what they would do next.  I decided to go rather than stay.

   We wandered down to my lab, and I showed her some of the tests which
were running.

   "Are all these ones Fuck Plague tests?", she asked.

   "They are.  Mostly cells from you, but a few are running on various
sperm samples.  One thing you could do for me while you're here.  I know
you don't like it, and you've had one lot of probes up you already today,
but would you do one more for me?"

   "Surely Hilary will give you some of those cells, won't she?"

   "That's not what I'm after.  I'd like some cervical cells.  Take a look
at the real enemy, before I kill it."

   Sue agreed, and I helped her up on to a bench.  Not as good as the
Medical section's couch, but it saved a trip.  The sample took very little
time to collect, and I quickly swung into action to prepare it for slides.

   "Are you going to leave me up here?", came a plaintive call from the
bench.

   "Sorry, love, but this needs doing fast.  I don't have the right smear
test equipment here, and if I don't preserve the cells right away, they'll
_all_ look abnormal.  There - done."

   I helped her down and finished preparing the smear cells, and we headed
back towards the meeting room.

   A consensus had been reached.  Suddenly, everybody was looking a little
coy.  We soon found out why.  Richards delicately asked if we would mind
refraining from sex for a few days, to see what happened.  Clearly, they
wanted to know whether the cells were as harmless inside her as they were_
in vitro_, or whether the ants would back.

   And Sue agreed, the bitch!  On condition that at all times she was to be
within thirty seconds of both me and a bit of privacy.

   The big obstacle having been overcome, they relaxed, and began taking
notes on Sue's medical history, in the hope of finding something unusual
there.

   Hilary saw my downcast look.  "They don't need either of us here for the
moment, Jack.  How about a coffee?"

   She led me out of the room, and into the coffee lounge.

   "I suppose you've realised that there are two variables in this
experiment, not one?  Sue's genital areas, which is what that crowd are
concentrating on, and your sperm.  Which they're not."

   "You're right, of course.  So?"

   "So, Sue's staying celibate for a while.  You don't look too happy about
that."

   "I shouldn't worry, I suppose.  I've had more sex in a few days than I
normally get in a couple of months.  And more _great_ sex than I've had in
my life before.  It's just ..."

   "The tap got turned off a bit more suddenly than you expected?"

   "You could say that, yes."

   "So, how about running a parallel test on you?"

   "I think I follow you, but you'd better spell it out.  I don't want to
be accused of sexual harrassment!" We both grinned at that - if anyone was
feeling harrassed in the workplace these days, it was the men.  Trying to
keep their wives and girlfriends happy at home, while being pestered for
that little bit extra to help out unattached female workmates, and those
whose mates weren't up to a twice-a-day schedule.

   "Yes, I'll spell it out.  Sue is going to be celibate for a while. 
Maybe only for a day - if the red-hot ants come back, the experiment's
over. But at least a day, maybe a lot longer.  So, while she's out of
circulation, we give your sperm a test.  In me."

   "Um ...  I don't know what to say, Hilary."

   "Say yes.  A couple of weeks ago, I was almost a virgin where men were
concerned.  A couple of quickies when I was a teenager, but nothing since.
Now I'm getting to be an expert.  At pleasing Mike, anyway.  You might be
different, and that's another interesting scientific enquiry in itself."

   "And what if Sue needs me, and I can't manage it for her?"

   "Sue's safe until around midnight tomorrow night.  That's forty hours
after this morning's anal session.  As for the vagina, she seems to be
immune there anyway."

   "And suppose she isn't?"

   "Then she's safe until around three o'clock tomorrow afternoon - forty
hours after 11pm last night.  So, how about we make a date for tonight?  Or
don't you want to help an old friend?"

   "You know I do.  All right, I'll do it.  But not tonight - this
afternoon.  That way, I've got 24 hours to recover in case Sue needs me."

   "Wow.  She's a lucky lady.  Maybe if I hadn't met Jackie ...  nah.  It's
been interesting, and enjoyable in its own way.  But it's not really my
thing.  If you can cure me, I'll quite happily give up men for life.  Ok.
Straight after lunch, my place.  You've been there before, haven't you?"

   I had.  We went back to the meeting, to find it had broken up.  Sue was
ready to leave, so I drove her back.

   "Did you mention your sister?", I asked.

   "No, Jack, I didn't.  I gather you haven't, either.  Thanks for that. 
I'll talk to her about it, but I want her to decide first.  If she said no,
that Richards creep would keep pestering her."

   "You've figured out why she'd be so valuable, then?"

   "Of course.  Same genes.  Same medical history.  Right down to getting
head colds together."

   "So maybe her little cells are pink and harmless, as well."

   "Er ...  no, they're not."

   "Are you sure?", I asked.

   "Yes.  You won't tell anybody this, will you" - I shook my head - "Frank
hasn't been able to keep up his end of things.  He's quite a bit older than
us, and twice a day for three weeks was getting impossible.  They set up a
timetable, with eighteen-hour intervals, alternately front and back.  6am,
midnight, 6pm, midday.  That way, it was only four times in three days, and
the thirty-six hour gap left a bit of leeway in case of trouble."

   "Sounds fair enough.  I was thinking of suggesting something like that
myself."

   "Well, a week ago, Frank couldn't manage even on that schedule.  It was
the 6am session, and they were both tired.  He tried.  Jill worked him as
hard as she could, and got a sort of half-hearted erection.  They had a go,
but nothing much happened.  He had a 'sort of' climax, he said, and they
just had to hope for the best."

   "And the best didn't happen?"

   "Jill wasn't working that day, so she went into town to do some
shopping. Just before ten o'clock in the morning, right on schedule, the
red-hot knives.  The shopkeeper was very decent about it - sent her through
to the back with his assistant.  She hasn't told Frank.  Doesn't want him
thinking he's let her down."

   "By all accounts, she was lucky to find a guy with some to spare."

   "It wasn't as bad last week as it is now.  There were less infected
women, and the men weren't so - er - shagged out.  And she's pretty certain
the kid was gay, anyway, so she wasn't taking anything from his girlfriend.
But she felt honour-bound to buy quite a lot of clothes that she'll never
wear, before she left the shop."

   "So, her cells are _not_ harmless."

   "Far from it."

   "And, like you say, she has the same genes and medical history.  She
even had the HPV anti-cancer vaccine with you."

   "So what's left, Jack?"

   "Oh, a whole lot of possibilities," I said.  "Science doesn't give up
that easily.  Something you've eaten or drunk.  Something in the water. 
Something growing in our garden, that you're breathing in every day.  Maybe
a virus you've caught sometime over the years that she didn't have."

   "Or the obvious."

   We'd arrived back on campus.  I drew up outside her office before
looking at her.

   "Or, as you say, the obvious.  My sperm."

   "Hilary saw it, didn't she?  Is that why she took you out of the
meeting?"

   "Yes, love.  She was suggesting an experiment to test the possibility."

   "Uh - you and her?"

   I gritted my teeth.  "Yes, Sue.  We've made a date for this afternoon.
That way, I'll be recovered in plenty of time if you need me tomorrow
afternoon.  Would you mind terribly?"

   "I'm not sure, Jack.  Part of me's wanting to find something heavy and
beat you over the head with it.  But another part of me's saying something
else.  Something I heard this morning._ It's not sex, it's first aid_." She
closed her eyes and thought for a moment.  "Ok, love.  Do it.  Hilary's a
lovely lady, and a good friend to both of us.  If you can cure her, I'm not
going to object.  But make sure you're fit for tomorrow afternoon.  I'm not
going to risk those ants for anybody, no matter how good a friend they
are!"

   We bought sandwiches and ate them together in her office.  Then she
kissed me and sent me off to on my mission of mercy.

   Hilary and Jackie shared a large house a few minutes walk from the lab.
Jackie came to the door when I arrived.  My heart sank.  I liked Hilary,
very much indeed.  But her girlfriend was a different type altogether. 
Sallow complexion, stringy black hair, thin, angular, with a spiky
personality to match.  She didn't like men, and made the fact quite
obvious. There were many young women in the world that I didn't fancy, and
Jackie was near the top of the list.

   "Oh.  It's you," said Jackie, flatly.  "Hilary's told me what this is
all about."

   "And you don't mind?"

   "Yes, I do mind, actually.  It seems to me that there's no guarantee
that this is going to do anything except satisfy your animal urges.  I do
wish Hilary would listen to reason!"

   Uh-oh!  Jackie had picked her corner, and come out fighting.  As usual.

   "Sorry?  So you think we shouldn't do this?  You'd rather carry on
indefinitely with Mike?"

   "I'd rather none of this had happened at all.  How many more men is
Hilary going to invite into our home, peddling their own disgusting brand
of snake oil?"

   Normally, I didn't bother to get into arguments with Jackie.  She was
perfectly competent with figures on a balance sheet, but in the battle of
the sexes, she was the one with the heavy artillery.  And she never fired
warning shots.  This time, though, I decided to try to reason with her for
Hilary's sake.

   "Jackie, listen to me.  This may not work.  There are some indications
that it might, but there's no proof yet.  But even if it doesn't, what does
Hilary lose?  Because of the plague, she has to have fresh semen inside her
every day.  Today, she's chosen to use mine rather than Mike's.  Does it
really matter?"

   "Of course it does!  Not that you'd understand.  You're only a man."

   "No, I don't understand.  It seems to me that you'd disapprove just as
much whether it was Mike doing this or me.  The difference here is that
there's a chance that, with me, this might be the last time Hilary has to
do it.  Surely that's a chance worth taking?"

   "I'd rather wait until there's some proof.  Until then, you won't
convince me that this is anything more than a cunningly-contrived rape!"

   "We can't wait.  Didn't Hilary say?  We have this afternoon, or not at
all.  The timing is fairly critical."

   "Oh, she told me some cock-and-bull story about you wanting to be there
for your wife if she needs you.  I know better than that - you're all the
same!"

   "If that's what you think, I'd better go," I said, turning away.

   Behind me, I heard Hilary's voice.  "Jack!  No, don't go.  Please."

   I turned around again.  Hilary was at the door, with her arms around
Jackie.

   "Sorry, Hilary," I said.  "I came here to perform a favour for you. 
Which you asked me for.  I wasn't exactly willing, but I was ready.  Why
did this _thing_ have to be here?"

   Jackie's eyes blazed.  "Tell him to go away, Hilary.  We don't need him!
We don't need _anyone_."

   "We do, Jackie," said Hilary.  "You know we do.  This is our best chance
of getting off this treadmill."

   "This _fucking_ treadmill, don't you mean?  Well, how do we know we're
still on it?  Maybe the plague's died off in us, too!  This is just another
dirty ploy so that they can keep on having us!"

   I raised my eyebrow at Hilary.

   "Please stay, Jack.  Go on into the house and I'll talk to her."

   "Oh, no you don't!  If he's here, I'm here.  We agreed on that at the
start of this nightmare."

   "Look, love," said Hilary.  "Jack's a friend.  I've asked him here as a
favour to me - to us.  He's very happily married, and there's no reason
that he'll want me again.  Even if I wanted him, which I don't.  Please,
love.  Just go."

   "I _can't_," wailed Jackie.  "I hate seeing Mike with you, the things he
does to you, the things he makes you do to him, but I promised I'd always
be there for you.  I have to be there for you.  But this is too much!"

   "Sorry, Hilary," I said.  "I'm out of here.  The offer's withdrawn. 
You're welcome to her."

   I climbed into my car and drove off.  Around a couple of corners, and
parked up, waiting.  As I'd half expected, my mobile rang about ten minutes
later.  I'd seen Jackie's head turned resolutely away from me, and waggled
the phone at Hilary as I drove off.

   "Hi," she said.  "Sorry about that.  I knew she was insecure, but that
was the worst she's ever been."

   "Me sorry too.  Still, look on the bright side.  It might not have
helped, anyway."

   "If you're still up for it, I am."

   "And what about your ever-loving partner?  Talk about a _femme fatale_!
She'd be at me with a knife if she caught us together!"

   "She had a few more hysterics, then calmed down and took a tranquiliser.
I swapped it for a knockout.  You can pick up some useful items in Med
Research.  She'll be out of it for the rest of the afternoon.  Where are
you?"

   "About fifty yards away.  Are you sure it's safe?"

   "Safe as can be.  And just to be _really_ sure, I've locked her in her
room."

   I secured the car and walked back.  I didn't know whether Jackie's room
faced the street or not, and I didn't want her waking up and seeing my car
outside.  The front door opened as I reached it.  Hilary pulled me inside.

   "Oh, boy!", I said.  "I've heard some of her 'all men are rapists'
attitude before, but that beat all.  Why did she flip like that?"

   "I don't know.  She's been tolerant of Mike, seeing him as a regrettable
nuisance - or so I thought.  Now, though, I'm not so sure.  If he walks out
on us, we're in trouble."

   "That woman gets right under my skin," I said.  "She really did believe
that all I want is to get you into bed.  Why on earth did you pick _her_,
Hilary?  Out of all the women you could have had?"

   "The old question, Jack.  Nobody on the outside of a relationship can
ever see what makes it click on the inside.  Let's just say that the woman
everybody else sees isn't the one I see in private.  She's spent a long
time building that personality, and she wears it like a suit of armour. 
When we're alone, she's quite different."

   "I'd guess she's had some problems with men in the past."

   "Yes, she has.  And please don't pry."

   "I won't.  But I'd hazard a guess."

   "Guess, then.  I probably won't tell you whether you're right or not,
but I'm always open to opinions about Jackie.  It might help me to help
her."

   "My guess is that I remind her of someone.  Someone that hurt her, a
long time ago.  Her father, maybe?"

   "Like I said, no comment."

   "Ok.  While I'm still guessing, I'd say she has a sister.  And he worked
them over together.  Is that why she has to be there for you, rather than
letting Mike work on you in peace?  Is that it?"

   "Right, and right.  I don't know if you remind her of him - she hasn't
kept any photos.  But yes.  She had a sister, who killed herself."

   "And he got away with it."

   "How the hell did you know that?"

   "My wife may be professor of English, but she does some student
counselling on the side.  She discusses things with me.  I discuss them
with no-one, but I've heard too many stories like Jackie's.  I know he got
away with it because she's still after revenge.  You might as well tell me
the rest of the story.  It won't go any further."

   "He'd told the girls to keep quiet, otherwise he'd be taken away and
locked up.  And they'd be put into care, where even worse things would
happen to them.  After her sister killed herself, Jackie told her mother
what had been happening.  So, guess what happened then?"

   "Her mother didn't believe her?"

   "Right again.  There was a screaming row, which ended with Jackie being
put into care, just like her father had said.  And according to her, it was
every bit as bad as he'd told her.  The staff were all right, most of them,
but she was raped daily, or more often than that, by some of the other
inmates."

   "And she didn't tell?"

   "Telling had got her into this, hadn't it?  She wasn't going to risk
things getting worse.  She was only thirteen years old, for god's sake!"

   What was the phrase?  _To understand all is to forgive all?_ Well, I was
beginning to understand, but the forgiving came harder.  None of Jackie's
problems were my fault.  I'd help her if I could, but it seemed that having
me anywhere near threw her into hysterics.

   "Ok," I said.  "Maybe she's not completely insane, but I think I'd
better keep away from her for a while."

   "Yes, you'd better.  If this works, I'll have to tell her what we've
done."

   "We haven't actually done it, yet," I pointed out.

   "So, we'd better get started.  Now, how do you want it?  And how long
have we got?"

   "I do have some more work to do, so I'll have to get back.  Sue's been
keeping me pretty well milked, so I might take a bit of arousing.  Half an
hour should do it, I think."

   "So you need arousing, do you?", said Hilary.  "Well, I've had a fair
bit of practice in that lately.  Come upstairs."

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 5

   Hilary led the way up to her bedroom.  Once there, she sat me down on
the bed and put on a CD of slow dance music.  Keeping eye contact all the
time, she did a slow, sensual strip, finishing up wearing G-string and
tassels, which she twirled expertly.  I hadn't noticed before, but she was
wearing quite a bit of makeup.  It went perfectly with the showgirl
costume. Her tits stood out proudly; her stomach was flat, her thighs
smooth and taut.  Her skin was flawless, and lightly tanned all over - no
bikini marks anywhere.  My god - so this was what she hid under her lab
coat!  I could feel a little life returning down below.  I'd worried about
whether I was going to let her down, but this was going to be all right.  I
stood up, and started to undress.

   "No, Jack," she said.  "Let me do that."

   She went down on all fours to take off my shoes and socks, her hair
brushing the carpet.  Then she kissed each of my toes, one by one.  Still
staying low, she reached up, undid my belt and removed my trousers.  Plain
old Y-fronts underneath.  I regretted not having put on something to match
her spectacular choice in underwear.  But then, when I'd started the day I
didn't figure on anything like this.

   She kissed her way up one leg to the knee, then repeated the treatment
on the other.  Then, turning me round, she kissed down from the base of my
ass to the knee.  I squirmed a little, and she picked up on it, lingering
there in the hollow of the knee.  Then repeated the performance on the
other leg, getting the same reaction.

   "Hmm ...  back of the knee", she said.  "An unusual place for an
erogenous zone, wouldn't you say?  Does Sue know about it?"

   "She knows it tickles.  I've never told her it was erogenous, because I
didn't know until now." But now I knew, and I'd certainly tell her about
it, next time.  Whenever that was going to be.  I started feeling sorry for
myself, and my erection subsided a little.  But not for long.

   Hilary expertly managed to undo all my shirt buttons with her mouth -
when had she learned _that_ trick, I wondered - while rubbing her amazing
breasts up and down me.  She gaped the shirt wide open, and pressing her
chest tightly against mine, pushed the shirt over my shoulders and off. 
Then, still maintaining full body contact, she pushed down my underpants,
hooked them on to her toe, and with a flip of her leg hurled them across
the room.  She ran her fingers lightly up and down my prick.

   "Well, you seem aroused now", she chuckled.  "Shall we get down to it?"

   She stood back to let me enjoy the view, stepped easily out of her
G-string, and removed the tassels.  Two very perky nipples pointed my way.
No pubic hair - her cuntlips were as smooth as the rest of her body, and
the tan went all the way down.  She stood almost motionless for a few
moments, legs apart, swaying slightly in time to the music.  A light sweat
made her gleam all over.  It was as if she could read my mind.  I wanted to
brand this moment into my memory for ever.  It was way past erotic, into
some far territory that I hadn't even dreamed of.

   "Ok," she said at last.  "We'd better get down to business." She handed
me a tube of KY, and got on to the bed on all fours.

   "You want me to see to your ass, then?"

   She looked round at me.  "I want you to see to both.  But I'm not sure
you can manage both ways in one session, and I don't think you know whether
you can, either.  And Jackie _hates_ seeing Mike taking me up the ass. 
Brings back some bad memories, I'm sure.  So if you can apply just one
cure, I'd rather it was this one."

   I applied the jelly, and the cure.  After her display, it didn't take
long at all.  Only a couple of minutes of slow stroking - I found I had to
keep in time with the music - and my cock was blasting happily away into
her ass.

   "Wow!", I said weakly, as I flopped on to the bed.  "That's me
finished."

   Hilary went to the bathroom for a few repairs, then returned and laid
down beside me.  She used a damp flannel on my now-useless cock.

   "Thanks for that, Jack.  Let's just lay here for a while.  You never
know, something may come up!"

   I smiled at the old joke, and turned to face her.

   "How on earth did you learn to put on that performance?", I asked.  "You
looked as if you'd done it for years."

   "I did.  My parents were pretty broke, so I had to put myself through
university.  And I didn't want to be saddled with loads of debt, so I took
a job as an erotic dancer.  I've still got some of the old posters around
somewhere, if you're interested."

   "I hope they paid you well.  You're damned good at it."

   "I did all right.  Enough to get me through three years of undergraduate
study, another couple of years doing my PhD, and my first two years of lab
work, when I was as underpaid as all the juniors are.  With enough left
over to buy this house outright."

   "My god", I said, thinking of the huge mortgage Sue and I were
struggling to pay on a house half the size of this one.  "You're rich!"

   "Pretty comfortable, yes."

   "Just from dancing?  Or did you have any offers to take things further?"

   "A lot of offers, yes.  I could have been _bloody_ rich by now if I'd
taken them up.  But no.  My act never went further than stripping, with
that pose at the end.  Did you like it?"

   "God, yes!  But how could you keep the guys from storming the stage?"

   "A few hefty bruisers kept things under control.  They were kept quite
busy sometimes when I was on.  But they didn't damage the customers - just
pointed them towards the hookers.  There were a lot of them in the club,
waiting for my act to finish.  I got the guys hot, they milked them.  In
more ways than one."

   "The hookers were part of the staff?"

   "No, freelancers.  They paid, uh, rent I suppose you'd say.  They soon
learned that there was a good supply of customers after I'd been on.  The
management put the price up for them, they charged the customers a little
extra, and I got my cut without having a single dick inside me."

   "I'd have thought any prostitute would have been a poor second best
after they'd watched you dancing."

   "You are nice!  But the girls had dyed their hair like mine, wore the
same makeup as I did, and wore the same G-string and tassels under their
clothes.  I'd tell them a few days in advance what I'd be wearing, and
stuck to it.  I think it helped."

   "Weren't you ever tempted to take up an offer?"

   "Not really.  By then, I was financially secure.  And I had Jackie.  I
didn't, and don't, want anything to damage our relationship."

   I pictured the two of them together, and thought _Beauty and the Beast_,
but didn't say anything.  Hilary read my mind again.

   "Don't be fooled, Jack.  She scrubs up quite well, as we say up north.
And anyway, it's not what she looks like, it's who she _is_.  Isn't it like
that with you and Sue?"

   "Uh, yes, it is.  I'm told there are better-looking women around, but
I've never really noticed it.  Until today, maybe."

   "Come on, Jack.  If Sue was here on this bed with us, and you had a free
choice, you'd go for her every time, wouldn't you?"

   "Well ...  maybe.  Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, anyway.  A guy's
got to get a bit of variety, surely?"

   "Some guys go looking for it.  You don't.  You're a really nice man,
Jack.  I hope things stay good between you and Sue after all this is over.
I know they haven't been good for a long time now."

   "How on earth do you know that?"

   "Men have erections.  Especially when they're looking at me, for some
reason." She chuckled.  "I can't understand it - I've never done anything
to encourage them.  But, Jack, if I swung the other way, there is no way
that my husband would be able to even _think_ of having an erection until
late afternoon.  She's kept you short, hasn't she?"

   "No comment.  You keep your sex life secret, and so do I."

   "Of course you do.  But when you come to _work_ with an erection, for
god's sake, I can tell she hasn't been treating you right."

   "Let's just say that I have hopes that there's been a permant
improvement.  Now let's drop the subject, shall we?"

   "If you like.  Anyway, I think you might just be ready for a little more
action." She swung around into my newly-favourite 69 position, and took my
prick into her mouth.

   Another open-cunt view.  So like the blessed memory of Sue's back parts,
but somehow different, as well.  The lack of pubic hair was the big change,
of course, but the cunt-lips were narrower and pulled further apart,
showing more of the pink interior.  I slipped my tongue inside her, and
used my fingers on her clitoris.  Then, driven by a faint memory of
something I'd heard of about girl-on-girl sex, slipped my four fingers as
far inside as I could manage, wriggling them backwards and forwards, while
the ball of my thumb massaged her clit.  She began a purring noise, deep in
her throat.  I could feel the vibrations of it in my prick, which was
beginning to come back to life.

   I reached under her and massaged her glorious breasts with my other
hand, paying special attention to the nipples.  They were nearly an inch
long; they lengthened and hardened some more under my attentions.  Her
internal juices were dripping off my hand and over my face.  About five
minutes of this, and I was ready to explode.  I suddenly came to my senses,
realised the danger and tried to signal her.

   She slowly pulled my prick out of her mouth.

   "You want to stop doing that, just when I'm enjoying it?", she said. 
"Oh, well - if you're sure."

   She rolled off me, and lay face up, her head next to my feet, looking
across the bed at me through raised knees.  "Come on, then!  What are you
waiting for?"

   I didn't need a second invitation.  I was up, over, and in.  I don't
know how long it took, but if 'scoring a hole in one' was an Olympic event,
I think I'd have placed in the medals.  I started stroking away, still in
time to the music.  Hilary made a little _Tsk!_ noise, and groped around on
the floor.  She came up with a remote for the stereo, and switched tracks
for some faster stuff.  I kept with the new beat, and she started bucking
away in time with it, and with me.  Two minutes of frantic action, and she
came in a series of small squeals.  Another minute or so, and we both
climaxed together.

   We laid there motionless, both panting for breath.  The moment stretched
out.

   "Well," she said eventually.  "Experiment concluded, I think.  Thank you
very much, Jack.  I said it might be interesting, and it certainly was.  A
_lot_ of food for thought there!"

   "I'm glad you enjoyed it.  You did, didn't you?  That wasn't a fake?"

   "You know damned well it wasn't!  That was the real thing - my first
climax with a man.  And you know, it wasn't half bad."

   She spotted my worried look, and laughed.

   "Oh, don't worry!  I'm not going to start stalking you.  I still prefer
Jackie - she can turn me on when we're both fully dressed and sitting
across the room from each other.  But you know, if ever you want a return
match - for fun, rather than for science - just ask.  You've earned it. 
But don't tell Jackie I said that!"

   She kissed me, and I rolled off her and started to dress.

   "So, that was for science, was it?", I remarked.  "If the kids ever
knew, science classes would be a lot more popular at school!"

   "Right on!", she said.  "Now, to change the subject a little, I think
you ought to take a shower before you dress.  Or at least wash your face.
Then I'll do the same.  If we arrive in the same car, looking sweaty and
smelling of sex, what are people going to think?  I've got a reputation to
keep up, you know."

   We grinned at each other, then showered together.  The perfect end to a
perfect interlude, I thought.  I couldn't keep the sappy smile off my face,
and started to worry that it was permanently pasted there.  We had a lot of
fun soaping each other and giving full body-on-body massage.  Eventually,
we felt clean enough to face the world of work, and dried each other off. I
had one final caress of her perfect tits, and a squeeze of her delectable
rump, before she put them away under sensible street clothes.

   "I never thought I'd say this, but I agree with Richards," I commented.

   "He is a bit of a slimy character, isn't he?  What do you agree with him
about?"

   "I told him you preferred girls, and he said it was a waste."

   "And why shouldn't I prefer girls, mister?"

   "Your choice, and I wouldn't argue with it for a minute.  What I think
is wasteful is hiding your beautiful body under clothes.  Just walking down
the street naked, you could make a lot of people happy.  There ought to be
a law!"

   Hilary went to unlock Jackie's door and check on her, while I went for
the car and moved it to just around the corner.  As I arrived, she slipped
into the passenger seat.

   "Sleeping like a baby!  I think she needed that."

   "As long as she stays asleep until I'm well away from here," I said,
getting into gear and making a quick getaway.

   "She will.  That stuff I gave her is good - she'll be out for another
four hours or so, then wake up feeling fine.  No hangover."

   "Sounds like an ideal date-rape drug."

   "Well - that's what I got it for.  She knows she needs Mike to fuck her,
but even knowing that, she resists sometimes.  He's not into rape, and
loses it.  So, a couple of times I've put her out.  Don't worry - she knows
why.  She _asks_ to be put out - as long as I'm there watching out for her.
This is the first time I've ever tricked her into taking it.  She'll wake
thinking she's just had a good sleep after taking a tranquiliser.  Don't
ever tell her different, will you, Jack.  She trusts me, and she doesn't
trust anyone else."

   "My lips are sealed.  I'm thinking about poor Mike, though.  It must be
hard enough doing it with Jackie anyway, but when she's unconscious - or is
he into necrophilia?"

   "Far from it - he likes them lively.  So, he fucks me, and switches to
Jackie when he's about to come.  Does just the same when she's awake, as
well.  But sometimes even that's too much for her."

   I tried to visualise it.  Mike, on the verge of cumming; Jackie,
refusing entry.  Hilary, stark naked and beautiful beside her, trying to
talk her into it.

   "I can see it could be a problem," I said.  "So what do you do?"

   "The first time, it all went to waste," she said, sadly.  "All that
beautiful spunk.  It had taken me ages to get him in the mood - I think
that's what had upset Jackie so much.  Anyway, we had about ten hours in
hand, so I gave her my morning session, and talked one of the other techs
into helping me."

   "Can't be good for office discipline, that."

   "No, it isn't.  Though Jerry just had a quick shag on the couch.  Only
you and Mike have seen the full performance, and I trust both of you not to
tell."

   "Still, you don't want to do it too often, do you?"

   "Sure don't.  So now we keep an artificial insemination syringe by the
bedside, in a warmer.  If Jackie can't take it, Mike finishes off straight
into the syringe, and I squirt it up her.  We've only had to do it that way
twice, and so far it's worked both times.  She wants it like that all the
time.  I keep telling her it's dangerous - the sperm gets damaged, and we
lose some along the way."

   By now, we were back at the lab.  Hilary insisted that I take some
samples from her.  To her disappointment, the cells in both cunt and ass
were purple.

   "Oh, well," she said.  "Strike another theory.  Still, we had some fun,
didn't we?"

   "I wouldn't have missed it for anything!", I replied.  "But don't give
up on the theory yet.  Remember, when I took those first samples from Sue's
ass, they'd gone back to purple.  They went pink again sometime in the
night."

   "So they did!  Well, fingers crossed!"

   She looked around carefully, then gave me a truly amazing kiss, followed
by a sensual wink.

   I tottered back to my lab, to catch up on my afternoon's work.  Most
importantly, I took a look at Sue's cervical smear, and smiled.  At least
that part of my job was going to be easy!

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 6

   I managed to get home from work on time, but found the house empty, so I
caught up on my laptop notes, and got lost in them.

   Eventually Sue arrived.  I looked at my watch, and was startled to see
that it was just after 7pm.

   "What's this?", she demanded.  "You know the rules - first one home
cooks.  Where is it?"

   I'd forgotten.  A husband in this position has to think fast.  He either
admits his fault and trusts to his wife's mercy, or lies through his teeth.
No choice, really.  I lied.

   "I thought we'd go out to eat, love.  Since we're having a night off
from sex, let's do something different."

   "That's a lovely idea, Jack.  Where have you booked us?"

   "I waited for you.  I didn't know whether you fancied Chinese, Italian,
Indian, Korean, fish and chips in a bag, or expensive.  Anything you like."

   "How about expensive.  Considering what I've been doing for you lately,
you can pay."

   "I've been acting on your orders.  You pay."

   "You've enjoyed every minute of it.  You pay."

   "Not _every_ minute.  There's been a few times I've been scared stiff
that I couldn't manage another one for you.  Make that scared limp.  And
now you've cut off my supply, without any discussion at all.  You pay."

   "I didn't want to.  It's for your science buddies.  And, talking of
which, how was Hilary this afternoon?  Do I have anything to be jealous
about?"

   "All right, I give in.  I'll pay.  And in answer to your question, I was
a perfect gentleman."

   "Not good enough, Buster!  I want details before I'll agree that you
were a gentleman."

   "I'm a man.  I was gentle.  Do you really want to know more than that?"

   "Ok, not just now.  Maybe later.  Meanwhile, having sorted out who's
picking up the tab, where are we going?"

   "Money no object.  What do you fancy?"

   Sue considered.  "Thai food, I think.  Not too heavy, but plenty of it."

   Thai, to both of us, meant The Mango Tree, behind Buckingham Palace.  I
telephoned, and our luck was in.  They'd just put the phone down on a
cancellation.  I booked a cab, then headed upstairs to change.  Sue was
trying to decide which 'posh frock' suited her mood best.  I pointed to the
lime green, so out of sheer contrariness she put on the long black one,
with the slashed sides and low back.  Since that's the one I'd wanted her
to wear, I mentally claimed a point in the ever-ongoing battle of the
sexes.

   By the time the cab arrived, we were ready, and had already got outside
of the first drink of the evening.  I noticed that the cabbie was wearing
an S2S cap, pointing forwards.  I asked him about it.

   "All part of the service, as it were, sir.  Three times this week I've
been hailed by ladies in distress asking to be taken 'somewhere quiet'. 
They know about the cap, so it saves a bit of time.  Less embarrassment all
round, you might say."

   Sue had heard of the cap, and agreed with him.  "Quite right, too, Tom."
(How the hell did she know his name?  Oh yes, it was on his ID hanging in
the front.  Trust an English professor to read everything around her, even
somebody else's badge!) "It must be dreadful to pick the wrong man.  One
who can't or won't.  At least with the cap, she knows he's available.  And
I know from experience that you don't really have time to make a second
choice."

   "You've been there then, miss.  You poor duck.  I dunno what it feels
like, o'course, but if it's half as bad as it looks, I wouldn't never want
to go through it.  One of my ladies was really hurting.  She told me
afterwards she was never so pleased in her life as when she saw my badge
coming down the street towards her."

   "I hope she gave you a good tip", I said.

   "Just the fare on the meter, guv," he replied stiffly.  "I'm not one to
profit from other people's misfortunes."

   We went into the restaurant, and it looked mercifully normal.  No
screaming women being led into linen cupboards.  I'd certainly have
volunteered if any of the waitresses had asked me.  They seemed to have an
endless supply of beautiful Thai girls, all with happy smiles on their
faces.  At least, I'd have volunteered if Sue hadn't been with me.

   At the table, we looked over the menu for an appetiser.  We both agreed
on the Kor Moo Yang, 'grilled seasoned pork neck served with Thai chilli
sauce'.  No discussion was needed about the drinks - I ordered a couple of
mango champagne cocktails, our idea of the perfect celebration drink.  For
the main course, we decided on Pad Thai Goong Lai Yai - stir-fried rice
with tiger prawns, chives and beansprouts in spicy sauce - and Nuer Yang -
grilled sirloin steak with Tahi chilli sauce.  I asked the waitress to help
me with the pronunciation, and both Sue and the girl chuckled until I
finally got it more-or-less right.

   "You didn't have to do that," Sue said.  "You could have ordered by
number, or used the English, like we usually do."

   "I know.  But we've been shedding a lot of inhibitions lately, right? 
So I asked myself why they put the Thai names to everything unless they
wanted us to use them, and decided to give it a try.  Why not?"

   "Well, you certainly cheered up the waitress.  I don't know if she was
smiling because you were paying her the compliment of using her language,
or trying not to laugh at the way you were mangling it!"

   "Hmph!  Well, at least I tried.  Incidentally, talking about being
uninhibited, was that really my formerly strait-laced, buttoned-up wife
discussing sex with the taxi driver?"

   "That wasn't sex we were talking about."

   "Sounded like it to me.  A few months ago, what would you have done if a
taxi driver had told you he'd had three total strangers that week, on the
seat you were sitting on?"

   "I'd have got out and hailed another cab.  And probably reported him. 
But that was then, and this is now.  The Fuck Plague has changed a lot of
things.  He sounded like a good man, trying his best to help.  Like I said
earlier, one of my students described it as _not really sex, more like
emergency first-aid_."

   "A fair bit more fun than tying a tourniquet or immobilising a broken
leg, though."

   "So?  Somebody's hurting, they need help.  If the first-aider gets some
pleasure out of it, so much the better, surely."

   "You've been talking to your students, then."

   "Oh, yes.  I wanted to know what was happening, and what they thought
about it all.  I wanted feelings, opinions; so I abandoned the lecture I
was supposed to be giving, and just let them talk it out.  It was quite an
experience."

   "Conclusion?"

   "They're taking it very well.  The boys seem to be behaving much more
like gentlemen than I would have expected.  That's not just their opinion -
it's what the girls are saying."

   Our drinks and appetisers arrived, and we slurped and munched in silence
for a while.

   "The caps are a good idea," I said.  "I hope whoever thought of it has
made a lot of money - though they probably haven't."

   "They are a _very_ good idea.  As one of the boys said, nobody has to go
up to anybody cold.  The boy signals that he's available, and the girl can
choose a guy she likes the look of.  In an emergency, it's any port in a
storm, of course.  But it does give a bit of power back to the girl.  She
can't choose not to have sex, but she does get to choose who.  Nobody seems
to know where the idea started.  Apparently, first of all it was a signal
with any baseball cap.  Forwards, available.  Backwards, not.  But not
everybody knew the code, and there were a few mixups.  So boys began
putting the logo on the front.  Then a few companies started to make them
with the logo in place, and now they're selling them as fast as they can
make them."

   "Sounds like a neat solution to a tricky problem."

   "Teenagers are good that way.  They're constantly reinventing the
language - I have to work pretty hard to keep up with them on that - and
given a problem, they'll try to find an answer that works for everybody."

   "Any other answers, apart from the caps?", I asked.

   "Yes - some of the boys have taken to wearing the logo on their chest.
It means they're available for a long-term relationship.  Any girl, after
she's had her first attack of the ants, decides she never wants to go
through it again.  So, they need a fuck a day.  An 'insurance fuck', they
call it.  Or, if they've got it both ways, two fucks a day.  So, she's got
to keep going out and finding guys.  Or else she finds one to service her
regularly.  The chest logo - over the heart - means a bit of negotiation.
She sees a boy wearing it, and asks if he wants to take her on.  If he
does, it's just a matter of organising the time and place."

   "Could _you_ do that?  Just go up and ask a man to fuck you on a regular
basis?"

   Our main dishes arrived while Sue was considering her answer.

   "I think that's what they call 'in the nick of time'," I said.  We
busied ourselves with the heaped plates for a few moments, swapping
delicacies between us.  After a few mouthfuls, and a couple of appreciative
_mmm_'s, she was ready to answer.

   "I'm not sure if I could just go up to someone like that.  But it would
certainly be easier than asking two different men each day.  And at least
he's signalled that he's available, which helps.  They don't do it with
words.  She catches his eye, and puts her hand on her heart.  He either
repeats the gesture and they get together, or he doesn't.  Time it right,
and they can do it in the middle of a crowd without anyone else even
noticing that the question's been put.  So, a 'no' doesn't hurt quite so
much.  The boy gets a choice - it's not like the cap."

   "So, the cap means ..."

   "It means 'I'm available for sex with anybody'.  Any guy wearing the cap
is making a commitment.  If he then turns the lady down, even if she's fat
and fifty, he might get a slap from her and he'll certainly get a ribbing
from his mates.  The implication is that he can't manage it, rather than he
doesn't fancy her.  And boys are sensitive about that sort of thing."

   "So, he could find himself with some real dogs, then," I said.

   "Maybe.  But like I said, the kids see it as first-aid.  If somebody was
bleeding to death in the street, you wouldn't pass them by because they
weren't pretty, would you?"

   "I thought the plague was going to be a paradise for ugly men.  You
know, the fatties, the wimps, the nerds, all the ones that the girls aren't
interested in.  But it sounds like they're going to be left high and dry
when all the girls have permanent mates."

   "Not all the girls WANT permanent mates.  We could be seeing a social
revolution at least as big as the sixties here."

   "Oh?", I queried.  "How so?"

   "For years, women had to find a man to support them.  There weren't jobs
for women, and the social and economic pressures to get married were huge.
Then came the pill, and the workplace opened up, and suddenly women didn't
need men at all.  Except for sex, and who needs that?"

   "Grrr ...  I do!"

   "And I do, now.  Even if I don't, if you know what I mean.  And so do
most of the young women in my class.  And what they talked about was quite
an eye-opener.  They were so candid, it was clear that they'd talked it out
amongst themselves for days.  Most of them had tried sex before, but they'd
done it to please the boy, not themselves.  Not that the boys were too
interested in pleasing them.  Now that they've no choice in the matter -
they _have_ to have it every day - they've decided to try it out properly.
And they're finding that they can actually enjoy it."

   "Oh, come on!  They've all been just laying back and thinking of
shopping?"

   "It's a matter of inhibitions._ Don't give yourself away too cheaply. 
Easy lay.  Slut_.  Most girls are brought up with all this stuff in their
heads.  I know I was, and Jill.  If their parents don't give it to them,
their schoolmates will, and every book and TV programme they come across.
What it amounts to is _nice girls don't_.  Well, suddenly the inhibitions
are gone.  Nice girls DO!  They have no choice.  So nobody can point the
finger.  So what if some girls pick one boy to give her all her insurance
fucks, while another goes for two different ones a day?"

   "I see ...  I think."

   "At first, the girls were ashamed, some even feeling suicidal, about
it."

   "I think I met one like that today.  Jackie, Hilary's partner."

   "Yes, it must be pretty bad for committed lesbians.  I wonder what
they're doing in convents, and female prisons?"

   "Nuns are probably ok," I said, eager to show off my research knowledge.
"Virgins seem to be immune.  Nobody knows why yet."

   "What makes you think that nuns are virgins, Jack?"

   "I don't know.  I just assumed that nuns didn't do that sort of thing.
Isn't that the point?"

   "I don't mean naughty priests - though I'm sure that goes on.  But a
large percentage of nuns take to it late in life.  They've already had
boyfriends and a job."

   "Hmm.  Then they're still probably all right.  It's beginning to look as
though most of the infections are in women with reasonably-active sex
lives. The spores don't just float inside, they're pushed in."

   "So how about lesbians?"

   "It doesn't have to be a prick.  Finger, tongue, dildo - I don't know.
Why ask me?"

   "Because I want to know about you and Hilary, of course.  Why else?"

   "Well, I suppose you deserve to know.  But not here, please.  I can't
sit in the middle of a crowded restaurant, telling my wife what sex was
like with another woman.  I'm sorry, but I can't.  Let's get back to your
ashamed, suicidal students."

   "They aren't any more.  They formed the Sisterhood."

   "Some sort of secret society?"

   "Not secret, no.  And not exclusive.  It's all the women on the campus,
students, teaching staff, support staff.  They said to themselves 'We've
all got the same problem.  Let's find a solution.' They watch out for each
other, and if they see a girl suffering, they talk to her until she
realises that what she's doing isn't sinful, but a necessity.  They talk it
through with each other.  And they're doing pretty well at it."

   "And they were willing to tell you about it?  With all the boys
listening in?"

   "I told you, there's nothing secret about it.  That was first point:
they needed the boys.  Had to have them, no matter what.  And that scared
them.  If they're reduced to begging for sex, the men have the upper hand
like they've never had it before.  And some of them were hard enough to
deal with in the old days.  The Sisterhood was looking at a really
degrading form of sex slavery.  They'd have to do anything they were told,
or they'd be screaming in agony.  The boys wouldn't have to lay a finger on
them.  Just by refusing sex, they could put a girl through the worst
torment imaginable."

   "I can see why they'd be scared," I said.  "What changed?"

   "The problem wasn't real, that's what.  Most of the boys aren't
monsters. A few might want to be, deep inside their own heads, but they
won't act that way on the outside.  Peer pressure stops it from happening.
And remember, the plague started gradually.  In the beginning, it was a few
girls with a problem, and a lot of willing volunteers.  The boys just got
into the habit of helping.  A lot of the boys had seen their own mothers or
sisters screaming in pain.  They could empathise - project their mothers'
pain to their female classmates.  And of course they didn't want sex
slaves. They just wanted sex, like they always have, and there was as much
of that on offer as they could handle.  Or maybe a little more.  They just
wanted to help.  They were eager to help!"

   "Just like that?"

   "Exactly like that.  You know how a nation can be split up into lots of
bickering little factions, then a war starts, or there's an earthquake or a
forest fire, and suddenly everybody's on the same side, being friendly to
each other?  It's the same with the Fuck Plague.  The sex war's over, love.
At least on our campus it is.  And from what I hear, it's the same in most
places.  A couple of weeks of panic when the plague hits, then everybody
settles down to a new way of living."

   "New better, or new worse?"

   "At first, the girls could only see the bad points.  They were prisoners
of their bodies like never before.  And they'd lost their biggest weapon -
the right to say no."

   "The girls said all this in the lecture hall?  With the boys listening
in?"

   "They said all that, and more.  I'm just giving you the edited
highlights.  There's so much more openness now.  No more furtive whispers,
double meanings, and so on.  The girls freely admit that for generations,
right back into prehistory, women have used the promise of sex and the
threat of no sex to keep the men under some sort of control.  In the old
days, they had no choice about it.  They were at home looking after the
kids, so they needed a man to bring in the food and protect them.  Then
there were all the taboos about sex - mainly about staying faithful, and
mostly aimed at women.  But, looked at again, it's all fossil behaviour, as
useful to modern mankind as our tailbones.  Women don't need men any more -
they've been saying that for a generation now.  The men know that they're
right, which has made them angry and dysfunctional."

   "So they're saying that the upsurge in violence -"

   "And binge drinking, and drug use, and rape, and child abuse, and male
suicide, and most of the other things that scare us about modern society.
Yes.  They're saying that it's mostly down to women not needing men, while
men still need women.  You've got all those male hormones sloshing around
inside you.  It's a physical need.  With women, it was mostly a social
need. And all the taboos about sex had turned around.  Instead of being
useful for keeping a woman faithful to one man, they were telling her that
sex itself was wrong, that even one man was one too many."

   The food was finished.  We ordered a fourth round of mango champagne
cocktails, with brandy to follow.  Sue excused herself to the bathroom,
while the waitresses cleared the table.  I just looked around me, my head
swimming with new knowledge.  I'd seen the plague as purely a biological
puzzle.  Quite clearly, it was a lot more than that.

   Sue returned, and took a sip of her fresh drink.  We went back to the
conversation.

   "That all sounds like a lot for you to pack into one lecture," I said.

   "I wasn't talking, I was listening most of the time.  The kids were
doing most of the lecturing.  I've got it on tape - I spent this afternoon
playing it back to various colleagues in the schools of psychology and
sociology.  Then we talked it over.  Then they called in more people, who
had to have it played over again.  Then we talked some more.  That's why I
was late back."

   "So who gets the credit for the scientific paper that someone's
obviously going to write up about it?"

   "We discussed that too, love.  Yes, it deserves a paper, and it's being
written as we speak.  They're writing a 'discussion paper', a preliminary
view of the situation.  It should be on the internet by the time we get
home.  It will have my name listed as one of the editors, jointly with the
three that are actually putting it together now.  But we make it clear that
we're editors.  The real authors are the students themselves."

   "I hope they don't try to list them all by name.  I've seen a
gene-engineering paper with thirty-five authors, and the names took up most
of the first page."

   Sue smiled.  "We don't go in for that kind of teamwork in English, thank
God.  Usually it's one paper, one author.  Sometimes two or three."

   "So, what are the conclusions you've come to in this paper?"

   "Like I said, a possible social revolution.  Men need women, and
probably always will.  It's an inbuilt need, as well as a social drive.  At
the moment, women need men, more than they've ever done before.  That
probably won't last.  You clever scientists will come up with something to
stop the plague.  But that's the situation we're in at the moment.  Both of
the sexes need each other.  A good balance, and a chance to find a new
relationship between male and female, one that actually works for the
modern world."

   "My God!  You don't think small, do you?"

   "I wouldn't have believed it if I'd heard it a few months ago, but I saw
it in action today.  A new attitude to sex, based on the idea that it's
just a fun thing to do.  Like the flower children were trying to tell us in
the sixties.  It didn't work then, because the men just said 'great!  Free
sex!' and took what they wanted without trying to give anything back.  They
didn't need to, because the women didn't try to enjoy it.  They didn't try,
because they didn't know.  They were still blinkered by that 'nice girls
don't' upbringing.  Even most of the ones who thought they were liberated."

   "So what's different now?"

   "Well, look at it this way.  We've just had a great meal.  We have to
eat, to live.  But we don't have to eat like this, do we?  The human race
has turned a necessity into a pleasure.  Now, suddenly, fucking's a
necessity.  So, said the Sisterhood, let's turn it into a pleasure as
well."

   "Sounds like you women are still plotting against us!"

   "Nothing as calculating as that.  It just seems to happen.  In fact, we
saw it happen for ourselves, didn't we, love.  We were in a routine - a
fuck a week, or maybe less.  Enough to just about keep you sane.  Then,
suddenly, the rules changed.  We did it twice within a few hours.  The
first time, you came fast, just like I wanted you to.  The second time,
only a couple of hours later, you couldn't.  It took a while to bring you
to orgasm, and I had to help you along.  I had to get involved, and I
finished up enjoying it more than I'd ever done before.  A day later, I had
to work my butt off to bring you to climax -"

   "Literally!", I grinned.

   "But I overdid it.  You came too fast and I was left hot and horny, for
the first time in my life.  I didn't know what to do!  I lay awake, trying
to read, trying to sleep, and not being able to do either.  I tried
masturbating, and that didn't work.  I needed you inside me!  So I woke you
up, and I found that sex could get even better than it had been the night
before.  Now, do you think we were the only ones who found out that a
necessity could become a pleasure?"

   "Not for a moment, love.  The way you tell it, it's pretty inevitable.
The man slows down, the woman has to work harder.  And it's when she's
putting in the effort that she finds the fun."

   "Right!  Women talk to each other, Jack, a lot more than men do.  Now
the barriers are down, they can say things that they wouldn't have dreamed
of before.  Things like 'Why don't you try Jeff.  I had a _great_ fuck with
him yesterday.' So, the boys are getting all the sex they need, but some of
them are stars, having to carry an appointment book around with them. 
Plus, they're getting really, _really_ good sex, not just a 'wham, bam,
thank you ma'am'.  And they're getting better all the time.  They're also
getting a lot of respect.  So, the others are trying to learn.  They're
asking girls what they like.  They're trying to please them.  They're
buying books.  And some girls have set themselves up as tutors, teaching
lots of willing males what to do and what not to do."

   "So, instead of a couple of nervous virgins fumbling about and probably
getting it wrong ..."

   "Like we did.  And most of the human race before us.  The Sisterhood are
swapping ideas, Jack, like women before them have swapped recipes or
knitting patterns.  They're learning how to do it right.  Maybe for the
first time in history."

   I sat back, stunned by the prospect.

   We finished our brandies and went outside for a cab.  On the way out, I
signed the credit card payslip for the meal.  It could have been made out
for a thousand, or ten thousand.  I didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared
much anyway.  We sat silently for the whole journey back, just cuddling and
holding hands.

   Back in the house, Sue logged in to the university's intranet.  Her
mailbox was jammed, with messages from all over the world.

   "My god!  The paper was only posted an hour ago!  Look at all this!"

   While she was looking through her mail, I logged on through my laptop
and mobile, and downloaded the article.  It said much what Sue had told me
through the meal, though cast in more formal language, and with extra
detail.  There was her name - _Professor Susan Harper_ - listed as primary
editor.  If she'd thought about her mail, she might have asked to be put
second or third.  Clearly, she was going to have a jammed mailbox for weeks
to come.

   I disconnected, and went to make coffee.  By the time I brought it
through, Sue had given up, with her head in her hands.

   "This is terrible!  I'll never be able to get through all these!"

   "Don't even try tonight.  Do it tomorrow."

   "But by tomorrow there'll be hundreds!"

   "And that will make it easier."

   "How?"

   "You read a letter.  Draft a reply - but don't send it.  Read the next.
Does it cover the same points?  If so, the same reply works for both.  If
they're similar, then amend the reply to cover both.  Then the next.  And
so on.  You'll finish up with a half-dozen or fewer stock answers to cover
just about anything.  Add a note at the bottom of each, saying something
like 'due to the unprecedented number of mails we have received on this
subject, I have had to take the liberty of sending you a generalised reply.
If it doesn't cover your point, or you wish to raise further matters,
please feel free to mail me again.' In amongst all the dross, you'll find
some people that you really want to talk to.  Send them the same standard
replies, but personalise them a little, and give them your private e-mail
address."

   "That sounds like a very good idea, Jack.  Though I think I'd find
myself agreeing with anything that meant I don't have to work again
tonight. I'm tired, all the way through."

   We sat in easy chairs, facing each other.

   "Come on then, Jack.  What happened with Hilary?  Or are you going to
chicken out of telling me?"

   I chuckled.  "Not at all.  You've spent all evening telling me how
there's a new morality around.  So how can I feel bad about telling you
that I spent a glorious hour this afternoon fucking the most stunningly
beautiful woman I've ever seen.  Not to mention giving her the first orgasm
she's ever had from a man."

   "Hmm.  Not diplomatic, Jack.  Try harder."

   "Don't worry, love.  She can't help being beautiful, any more than you
can.  There, was that better?  And anyway, she's saving all her love for
that man-hating dyke, Jackie."

   "Jackie?  Have I ever met her?"

   "I don't think so.  She doesn't socialise much.  Not that any of us want
her to.  Oh, I know she's had problems.  But why take them out on me?  I
can't understand what a lovely, friendly girl like Hilary sees in her."

   Sue asked me to describe her.  I did so, mainly talking about
personality rather than appearance.  I suppose I was a bit vehement about
it.  She grinned.

   "What does she wear?"

   "Loose jumper, baggy trousers."

   "Complexion?"

   "Bad.  Greasy."

   "Spots?"

   "None that I've noticed.  Not that I've looked very closely."

   "Does she wear glasses?"

   "Yes, as a matter of fact.  Thick black ones, a bit mannish."

   "Hair up or down?"

   "Down.  Shoulder-level, but sort of lank and stringy."

   Sue roared with laughter.  "You dope!  You've fallen for the oldest
Hollywood cliché there is!  You know, the one where the plain secretary
takes off her glasses, lets her hair down, unbuttons her jacket, and
suddenly she's gorgeous!"

   "Like I said, she wears her hair down, not up.  And you can always see
those transform scenes a mile off - the girl's wearing makeup like a model
under the glasses.  And her chest's straining against the jacket she's
wearing."

   "That's for the camera, idiot.  On screen, they have to change things
round in the blink of an eye.  I'll bet as soon as your plain Jane - or
Jackie - gets home, she takes off the sloppy old sweater, and trousers,
washes the grease off her face and out of her hair, blow-dries and styles,
makes up and puts on something smart and sexy.  With good-looking glasses
or contacts - if she needs them at all, that is.  The lenses might be plain
glass.  Not an instant transform, but I'll bet it doesn't take longer than
an hour."

   "Hilary did say that she 'scrubs up pretty well'.  I just didn't believe
her.  Still don't."

   "Believe her.  Jackie's been hurt, and she's hiding.  No woman looks
like that unless she's doing it deliberately.  Anyway, you're changing the
subject.  It's Hilary I want to hear about.  Does she really look that
good?"

   I told Sue about my encounter with Hilary.  All about it, holding
nothing back.  I was delighted to see that she looked intrigued rather than
hostile.  I remembered her words about the Sisterhood, swapping sex
recipes, and wondered how far this would lead.  Then I remembered that we
were off sex, possibly for a very long time.

   I took her to bed, and Professor Susan Harper, about-to-be-famous expert
on and spokeswoman for the new sexual revolution, cuddled up behind me as
we both went quietly to sleep.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 7

   Next day, it was like being back in old times.  Well, close to them.  No
morning ass-fuck, anyway, but a lot more caresses than I'd been used to. 
Sue left for work early, needing to make a start on her e-mail replies
before her real day's work began.  We agreed to meet at lunchtime to decide
whether she would come to the laboratory for the three o'clock deadline, or
whether I would go to the campus.  It depended on whose work was the most
urgent.

   I arrived at work fairly early myself, did a round of the machinery,
then started on the paperwork.

   Hilary sauntered in shortly after nine.

   "Good morning, lover," she warbled.

   I looked around the empty room, pasting a 'guilty' expression on my
face. "Shh.  Not so loud - they'll all want some!"

   "They certainly will!  At least, after I tell them what my test showed
this morning?"

   "Back to pink?"

   "Sure thing!  I think I'm cured, praise god!"

   "And Mike?"

   "He was delighted to be spared last night's and this morning's workouts.
He'll stay around, for Jackie and as extra insurance for me, but the
pressure's off him now."

   "You mean he's _glad_ not to be fucking you?  That kid's weird clear
through!"

   "He'll still be fucking me.  Just not so often."

   "I'm not sure I understand you.  How will you know you're cured, if he's
still going to fuck you?"

   "He won't climax.  Well, not in me, anyway."

   "Oh.  I see.  The switchover to Jackie."

   "That's right.  Needs must, and all that.  I'm still on duty as long as
Jackie needs me."

   "Sorry, Hilary.  I should have thought.  It's none of my business."

   "It is, I'm afraid.  If your magic sperm really does mean a cure, I want
Jackie to be next up for it.  I know she was unpleasant to you yesterday,
but she really has been under a terrible strain lately.  We had a good
thing going; she was finally starting to relax.  Then this happens, and she
finds she has to put up with a man in our lives, in our bed, fucking both
of us.  So, can you bring yourself to do it?  Knowing what she is, and how
she feels about sex with men in general, and you in particular?  We can do
it the same way, so you'd only be inside her for a few moments."

   "I'd like to say yes, for your sake.  But I'm not sure when I'd be able
to.  Remember, I'm on call for Sue from this afternoon onwards.  And it's a
pretty permanent 'onwards'.  Just because she hasn't felt any pain after
forty hours, doesn't mean that she won't after fifty.  Or sixty.  So,
suppose she suddenly starts hurting when I've just shot my load into
Jackie? Or anyone else for that matter?"

   "Um.  Right.  I see your point.  Let me think about that one for a
while." She walked away slowly, head down.

   The morning flew by.  My head was still filled with sexual revolution,
and the Sisterhood, and all the other things Sue had told me.  We met as
arranged for lunch, and I told her I'd decided to spend the afternoon on
campus with her.  She was delighted that I'd agreed.  Apparently, her
teaching load, and that of her three colleagues, had been moved completely
on to other shoulders, while they concentrated full-time on dealing with
all the new phenomena she'd reported.  The whole world was watching, and
wanted quick answers.  And since she'd been first with the news, they
wanted them from her.

   "I thought I'd have a real fight with you over this, Jack."

   "Well, you might have had, but I figured it this way.  As long as I get
to the lab every five or six hours, that'll do.  The rest of the time, I'm
writing notes.  And I can do that anywhere.  Plus, it gets me out of
Hilary's way."

   "I thought you liked the girl."

   "I do.  But yesterday's little experiment - you know the one I mean -
looks like a success.  She thinks I've cured her."

   "And you're not sure?"

   "Probably.  Maybe ninety percent.  But that not certainty, is it? 
Anyway, she wants me to do the same for Jackie."

   "Would that be so bad?"

   "I told you what she was like.  I don't think I could.  And she's such
an unpleasant person that I'm not sure I want to.  If anyone deserves
red-hot ants crawling around inside them and biting, it's her."

   "Just first aid, remember?", said Sue.

   "I can't bring myself to even think about doing anything nice for that
bitch," I said.  "You don't know her.  Anyway, it's not just that."

   "Oh?  What's the other problem?"

   "You.  How can I fuck her when I'm on standby for you?  Suppose I've
just fucked her - literally, I've just finished shooting my entire load
into her - when you start with the ants.  What do we do then?"

   "Hmm.  Let me think," said Sue, absently.  "It's a tricky one, isn't
it."

   We ate in silence for a while.

   "Ok.  Solution #1," she announced.  "Not a very good one, but it shows
my grey cells are still working."

   "Come on - it's a problem in my field, not yours.  I've been trying to
find an answer all morning, and come up with nothing.  You get it just like
that?  Get away!"

   "I don't think you were really looking for an answer, because it would
mean you'd have to fuck Jackie.  And you don't want to, do you?  You'd
rather just say flat out that it can't be done."

   "I still don't think it can," I replied stubbornly.

   "Ok.  Try this for size: I have to stay celibate to see if my plague's
been cured.  The problem is, maybe it hasn't.  So you have to stay ready.
In theory, any man would do.  And in an emergency, that's what I'd have to
do.  But I'm not that liberated yet.  I should be - I've been documenting
the new morality for the whole world to see.  But inside, I haven't changed
that much.  I don't fancy the idea.  I need my husband on standby.  So it
looks like you're off limits to everyone else.  Correct statement of
problem?"

   "Yes.  That seems to cover it.  I don't see an answer there, whatever
you say."

   "Bear with me.  Hilary's now staying celibate to see if she's cured as
well.  Right?  So, _does it need to be both of us_?  Assume, for the sake
of argument, that I get through to tomorrow lunchtime without needing you.
That's way past both deadlines.  By then, Hilary will be past her deadlines
as well.  And I don't think she's as stupid as I am about demanding that
just one guy being held in reserve especially for her.  So, let her take
over the experiment."

   "I think I get it."

   "Precisely.  You get it.  In fact, tomorrow lunchtime, we both get it.
In whichever orifice takes your fancy.  Then as soon as you're up to it,
which I hope for the sake of insurance will only be a few minutes later,
you do the other as well.  Your balls will have been filling up for nearly
two days, so you should have plenty to spare.  And that's it.  You're free
to fuck whoever you want for the next, say, twenty hours.  That gives you
twenty hours to recover before I might need you again."

   "You're a genius, love!"

   "I am.  So the IQ tests said, anyway.  But then, so are you.  Now, use
your IQ-170 brain to tell me what's wrong with the solution I've given."

   I thought.  And thought.  Then it hit me.

   "I've seen it.  And yes, it's a nasty one.  Blows the whole thing out of
the water.  The problem is that _it doesn't stop with Jackie_!"

   "That's right, it doesn't.  You've maybe cured two of us.  With Jackie,
it'll make three.  But it can only ever be a maybe, unless you find the
biology behind it.  So, there's three of us who don't need a regular
fucking.  And two other people who know it."

   "Two?"

   "You, obviously.  And Mike.  I don't know Mike very well, and I don't
know Jackie at all, but I do know that five is too many to hold in a secret
like that.  It'll get out."

   "Couldn't we swear them to silence?  We're ok; I trust Hilary; Jackie
doesn't seem to talk to anyone; and I think Mike would be all right as
well."

   "And none of them have some female, friend or relative, who they
desperately want to see cured?  You're under pressure from Hilary now, over
Jackie.  Would Mike start pushing for the same treatment for his sister? 
Or his mother?"

   "I don't know ...  I suppose he might."

   "And what about me?  I'd want Jill treated, of course.  That brings
Frank into the story.  He has two sisters and four nieces.  Maybe they're
all hurting.  How big does the snowball grow before the news gets out?"

   "And twenty million women try to beat a path to my door."

   "You've forgotten the rest of the planet, love."

   "Twenty million, two hundred million, two thousand million.  What's the
difference?  There's no way I can deal with them all, or even a reasonable
percentage.  Look at the timetable.  I fuck you, both ways.  I then have to
wait for my balls to fill up again.  Say, five or six hours, minimum.  That
gives me about fifteen hours.  Maybe I can get really heroic, and do two.
Then I'm back on the wagon for twenty hours to make sure I'm ready for you.
So I'd be able to average a little better than one a day.  Unless I put you
at risk.  And they wouldn't let me go on the wagon, would they?"

   "There'd be riots.  It's not going to work." For some reason, Sue was
smiling as she said it.

   "It's not.  I have to get back to the lab and find a _cure_, goddamn it.
Sorry, Sue.  Our deal's off.  I can't come with you this afternoon."

   "You can, and you will.  This problem doesn't need lab work.  Not yet,
it doesn't.  What it needs is _thought_.  New ideas.  And while you're
tinkering with your machines, you're not doing that.  Sitting in my office,
away from the pressure, you might just think your way through the problem."

   "Maybe so.  But I _can't_ think.  You've got me all mixed up."

   "Scared of being raped by a million women simultaneously, Jack?"

   "You bet I am!"

   "Ok.  I'm obviously thinking better than you are today.  Here's a couple
more points for you to ponder."

   "Go on," I said warily, realising how she'd sucker-punched me with the
first one.

   "Ok.  Idea #2.  You need to find out what makes your sperm unique, yes?"

   "God, yes!  If we can do that, we're at least halfway to a cure."

   "But are you unique?  Or just very rare?  Or maybe not rare at all?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "If you hadn't taken those cells from me that night, we'd still be
fucking twice a day along with everybody else.  We wouldn't know any
different, would we?  Maybe there's a lot of you out there.  Get a lot of
women examined.  If you find any more with pink cells, you've found another
guy with magic sperm."

   "Yes!  Of course!"

   "Ok.  That's taken some of the load off your shoulders.  There'll be
others to help.  Maybe a lot more.  Count on it.  Nobody's _that_
different."

   "Thanks, love.  I feel better already."

   "Good.  Now for idea #3.  You may not like this one quite so much.  It
eliminates that double-fuck, and the twenty-hour wait, and leaves you free
to cure as many women as you physically can."

   "You're assuming you're cured, are you?  You're saying you don't need me
on standby."

   "Not quite.  I'm not assuming anything.  I'll still need my husband on
standby, for as long as it takes to find a full cure."

   "Then I really don't know what you mean."

   "I mean my other husband.  He'll do."

   My face must have been a picture.  "_Other_ husband?"

   "Frank.  Look, love.  I'm Jill, and she's me.  So, in a funny sort of
way, you're her husband, and Frank's mine.  Can you follow that?"

   I thought about it.  "I wouldn't mind who you did it with.  I saw how
you were hurting the first time, and anything that takes that away is fine
by me.  It was you who said you wouldn't want to do it with anyone but me."

   "No I didn't.  I said I didn't think I wanted to do it with anyone but
my husband.  Like I say, Jack, I've got a choice of two.  You _both_ feel
like my husband."

   I started to see what she was getting at.

   "You'd have to cure Jill first, of course," said Sue, serenely. 
"There's no way that Frank could carry on keeping her ants at bay and still
be on call for me.  No way at all.  He can barely manage to keep up now. 
As I told you."

   "Let me get this right.  You're asking me to fuck your sister ..."

   "Which, as you've already admitted, you've done before.  Knowingly."

   "Not quite.  At the time, I didn't know which one of you was which.  I
just knew that there'd been two different women in my bed.  Ok.  So then
what?"

   "And then I move in with Frank and Jill, or they move in with us.  Frank
goes off duty, which will be a tremendous relief to the poor lamb.  All he
has to do is keep himself ready in case either of us need him in a hurry.
While you go about the world on your mission of mercy." Suddenly, she
laughed.

   "What's funny, love?"

   "That first night.  You vowed to find a cure.  And all the time ..." She
stopped to catch her breath.  "All the time, it was right there between
your legs!" Suddenly she let go, hooting with laughter.  I cracked up as
well, and we laughed until our sides ached, raising a few disapproving
stares from the other customers in the bar.  Finally, we sobered up.

   "Right then," Sue said, briskly.  "It's settled.  Yes?"

   "I suppose so.  But I think you've just written a whole chapter of your
New Morality thesis."

   "Nonsense!  For all you know, Jill and I have been swapping around week
in, week out, for the last ten years."

   "No, you haven't.  I can tell the difference, and I've been able to for
_twelve_ years, not ten.  The two of you had me fooled for about three
months, that's all."

   "Come on!  Even Dad can't tell us apart."

   "Your dad loves both of you.  I only love you.  That's the big
difference, and I can always see it."

   "Maybe.  We'll have to test you on that one."

   I wondered, all the way to the university, just what she meant by that.

   The afternoon was interesting.  I was never further than a door away
from Sue, while she got on with her interviews, discussions, and the
general bickering that goes with all academic research.  It's bad enough in
science, and at least we're all arguing from the same facts.  Here, they
were trying to make it work when everyone had their own opinion, no two
alike.  I wouldn't have been able to stand it for five minutes, yet Sue had
quite happily pledged a lifetime to it.

   Three o'clock came and went, with no anguished calls from the next room.
At four, Sue slipped in quietly with a couple of glasses and a bottle of
champagne.

   "One glass each, love.  To celebrate."

   "Well," I said.  "It certainly seems to have worked."

   She knocked back the glassful.  "I'm sure it has.  Cheers!" Then she
whirled out again, taking the bottle with her.  Damn!

   I'd been busy, too.  First, a call to Hilary.  I teased her with Sue's
point #1.  Like me, she got excited, and then realised the drawbacks.  So I
hit her with point #2.  _Find the others - I can't be the only one!_ She
broke off the conversation there, and telephoned Richards.  Working out of
a large hospital, he had the best chance to examine many women in the hope
of finding some with cells that stayed pink.  Then all they had to do was
find the man who'd nailed them that way.

   Hilary first gave him the news that she now seemed to be in the clear.
He was more than a little upset that the solution seemed to be my magic
sperm, rather than anything to do with Sue's innards.  He'd worked long and
hard on them, apparently.  Still, he caught on to the idea very fast, and
was willing to spread the word not just through his own hospital, but every
hospital and medical practice in the country.  She called me back to give
me the news.

   By this time, the 3pm deadline had passed, so we could be more confident
that the cure was real.  Then I hit her with point#3, slightly modified. 
Nobody at work knew that Sue had an identical twin; while there was any
chance that Jill might be bullied into a lot of tests that she didn't want,
I wasn't going to tell Hilary.  All I said was that there was another man
that Sue would find acceptable as an insurance standby.  I would give his
wife the cure, and if it took as expected, he would act as standby to both
women.  That would leave me free to perform a couple of cures a day.

   "Starting with Jackie?"

   "Maybe.  But you'll have to knock her out before I'll even step inside
your front door.  I'm sorry, Hilary, but there it is.  She's insane - at
least, she is when she's looking at me.  I might not get out alive."

   "I'll talk to her, try to get her to agree."

   We left it at that, but I had severe misgivings.

   Sue came in at about five o'clock.  "Right, lover.  I'm ready to go home
now.  You can drive me, in case I get antsy on the way."

   "What about your car?"

   "We'll sort that out tomorrow.  Come on."

   She led me down the corridor, then stopped outside the ladies' room. 
"Hang on.  I've just got to pay a visit.  I'll be right out."

   I waited outside the door, still listening for screams.  None came, and
a couple of minutes later Sue emerged.  Or did she?  Nope!

   "Hello, Jill!"

   "How did you know?"

   "I told you - or at least I told Sue, which is the same thing.  I
_always_ know."

   She opened the door again, and called Sue out of hiding.  She was
wearing Jill's clothes, and grinning.

   "I had a feeling this little trick wouldn't work, sis," she said.  "Oh,
well, it was worth a try.  Would you mind telling us how you do it,
buster?"

   "No, I won't.  A man has to have his little secrets."

   They each took one of my arms, and led me out of the building.  Jill
joined me in my car, while Sue went around the corner.

   "Frank?", I asked.

   "That's right.  We're coming back to your place.  Sue tells us you can
do us a bit of good."

   "And you're both fine with the idea?"

   "Oh, yes!  Of course we are.  I know it's not quite the morality we were
taught, but it's always seemed ok to Sue and me."

   "I know.  One person in two skins."

   "That's right.  You're my husband, nearly as much as Frank is.  And
Sue's his wife, nearly as much as she's yours.  I'm her.  She's me.  That's
the way we've always been, since we were babies.  And our parents used to
mix us up all the time, so maybe I really _am_ Sue.  And maybe she's Jill.
We'll never really know, and we don't care."

   We drove home, not saying a great deal.  All the talking would be done
when the four of us got together.  I cast an occasional sidelong glance at
my sister-in-law, wondering how I could always tell which was which.  I
always could, but I'd never been able to tell which subliminal clue my
brain was picking up on.  Tonight it was obvious, though.  And since I'd
married a trickster - make that a _pair_ of tricksters - maybe I'd tell
them why.  Tonight, for one night only, I'd be able to tell them apart in
the dark.  If things went the way they were planning, that could be useful.

   As we arrived at the house, Jill broke her silence.  "Frank still
doesn't know about the cancer, Jim.  Please don't tell him."

   "Of course not.  If things go right, you might be able to tell him some
good news instead of bad.  No need for him to worry as well."

   She kissed my cheek.  "My wonderful semi-husband!  You're right, he'd
worry.  And you seem pretty sure it's going to be all right, and so is Sue.
So I have to be sure, as well.  Why should Frank be the only one hurting.
Tonight's supposed to be party night!"

   She jumped out of the car and went into the house.  No - we didn't have
identical locks, though the girls had had an almost-serious discussion on
the subject one afternoon.  But they each had keys to each other's house. I
had thought it was just a sisterly thing, but now I was wondering.  Had Sue
stood in for Jill sometimes, when she wanted to be somewhere without
telling Frank?  Had Jill done the same for Sue?  Could I really tell the
difference _all_ the time?

   The girls went into the kitchen to hunt up some food, while Frank and I
set out the table.  I'd always got on fine with my brother-in-law (or
should that be co-husband, now?  My head was beginning to spin).  We'd
never discussed sex before, though.  And clearly that's what we'd be
talking about tonight.  He looked as if he wanted to talk, but didn't know
how to start.  I decided that one of us had to be brave.

   "It seems as if the girls have set us up.  Do you see any way out of
this?"

   "No, I don't," he said.  "Does this cure of yours really work, Jack?"

   "It seems to.  Sue should have been screaming around three hours ago."

   "Jill says that Sue never did feel any pain in front, though."

   "No, that's right.  The best guess at the labs is that she was infected,
and a day or two later my Magic Sperm - that's what they're calling it -
cured her without her ever knowing she'd got it.  It was only when the pain
started in the rear that we thought to check."

   The girls had come into the room.  "What's all this 'in front' and
'rear' business?", asked Jill.  "Less of the euphemisms, you two!  What
we're declaring here is a four-way marriage.  We need to all get
comfortable with each other.  And that means comfortable with language,
too. So, let's hear Sue put that conversation into real words.  She's the
verbal expert, after all."

   "I could use words like 'vagina' and 'anus'," said Sue.  "But they're
bloody medical terms.  There's nothing wrong with anglo-saxon, no matter
what the pantywaist moralisers say.  So: I didn't feel any pain in my cunt,
probably because Jack fucked me within a day or two of me catching the Fuck
Plague.  Unfortunately, I didn't like being fucked in the ass, so I got the
red-hot ants there.  That do, guys?"

   Frank had coloured slightly.

   "Don't you hear language like that from Jill," I asked him.

   "Well, yes I do.  In the last few weeks, anyway.  But it still sounds
wrong."

   "Especially in front of Sue and me?", I suggested.

   "Yes.  I know the girls have declared a 'four-way marriage', but it's
different for them.  They're in tune, nearly one person.  We're not.  It
takes some getting used to."

   "Fine," said Sue.  "We've got all evening."

   They went back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with plates
of salad.  They'd swapped clothes again.  I looked enquiringly at Sue.  She
winked at me.  I winked back, and said nothing.

   We kept conversation light during the meal.  I had to keep a straight
face as Sue played Jill's part, and vice versa.  Frank was oblivious to it.
The girls were right - he really couldn't tell them apart.

   When we moved to the lounge, Jill and I took the chairs while Frank and
Sue sat on the sofa.

   "Right," said Jill.  "Since this is a four-way marriage, we need to get
more comfortable with each other.  Frank, would you undress your wife,
please?"

   "What?"

   "You heard me.  What does it matter?  You've seen her body before.  And
since we both wear the same one, so has Jack.  So what's your problem?"

   Frank looked at Sue.  "Do I have to do this, Jill?", he asked.

   Sue grinned.  "You certainly do.  And then Jack does the same for my
sister.  Turn about is fair play, after all."

   Not knowing the trap he was being led into, Frank stood up and lifted
Sue to her feet.  Gently, he took off her shoes, stockings and outer
garments, so that she was standing in just her underwear.  He gave her
another plaintive look.

   "Keep going," said Sue.  "You can do it, love.  You know you can."

   Frank cast a look in my direction which clearly said "get your eyes off
my wife!".  It didn't work.  I smiled, and kept watching.  He gave up, and
removed the brassiere and panties.  Both girls applauded.

   Sue sat down.  "Thank you dear," she said.

   Jill stood up, and looked at me with an impish grin.  "Right, Jack. 
Your turn.  Strip me!"

   "No," I said.  "Not yet."

   Both girls started to object, while Frank looked puzzled.

   "They're having you on, brother," I said.  "You didn't realise it, but,
you've just stripped my wife.  That's Sue sitting naked beside you, not
Jill."

   Frank's eyes bugged out, and he started looking anywhere but at what was
sitting next to him.  He started to stammer out an apology to both of us.

   "No need for that.  Sue didn't mind.  Nor did Jill.  They'd clearly
cooked this up between them in the kitchen.  And why should I mind?  I
don't get to see Sue naked nearly often enough.  It's always a treat.  No,
I stopped it there because they were asking me to strip Jill.  Now, when
you took Sue's clothes off, you thought it was your wife.  If I take Jill's
clothes off, I'd be doing it knowing exactly who she is.  And I have to
ask. Do you object?"

   Frank went deep in thought.  I put a Scotch in his hand.  He took a
mouthful, and swilled it around his cheeks before swallowing.

   "God, I needed that!  So, you two are at your games again, are you?  In
answer to your question, Jack: no, I don't object.  I thought I was showing
you Jill's body when I stripped Sue.  So if she gets naked now, then the
situation is back to where I thought it was.  The only difference is that I
wasn't looking forward to watching you strip your wife, it seemed a bit
voyeuristic.  But if you're stripping _my_ wife, that's different.  As you
say, they've got a wonderful body, and I don't see enough of it either. 
Just give her a spank when you've done, to pay her back for putting us
through this!"

   I repeated Frank's slow strip on Jill, being careful not to touch her
more than necessary, since he was still uneasy about the situation.  Then,
when she was standing naked in front of me, I looked her straight in the
eyes.  The two girls were fairly telepathic with each other, but somehow
I'd learned over the years to tune in to a little of it.  She nodded
slightly.

   I sat down, and patted my lap.  "Right, Jill.  Get across my knees! 
Your lord and master has asked me to give you a spanking." She did so. 
Across the room, Sue was grinning from ear to ear.

   "Have you anything to say, Frank?", I asked.

   "Nothing at all.  She deserves anything she gets after this little
performance."

   "Sue?", I said.  "Any comment?"

   "Yes," she retorted.  "I don't think this is fair at all.  It was my
idea, not Jill's."

   "She's you, and you're her.  If it was your idea, it was her idea as
well.  But you're right, it's not fair.  Frank - spank her!"

   Before he had a chance to object, Sue was face down across his lap. 
"Right then, brother," I said.  "Six of the best?"

   "I don't know.  They bruise easily, and I have plans for later.  Two?"

   "Ok, let's be merciful.  Two."

   We each administered a couple of light slaps, and sat the girls up on
our laps.  They both came up flushed and smiling.  So - I'd called that one
right.

   The girls then insisted that fair play meant that they had the right to
strip us.  We had to agree that this was only fair.  In any case, there was
a certain tightness in the pants department that was making me
uncomfortable.  Frank as well, by the look of it.

   Somehow, it was easier to talk it all through once we were all naked. 
I'd already accepted the situation, and so had the girls.  The idea was new
to Frank, but it's surprisingly difficult to find good arguments when a
naked beauty is sitting on your naked lap.  Especially when there's another
one, looking just the same, across the room.

   So, we agreed.  I would administer the 'cure' to Jill.  That is: I would
fuck her, front and back.  Frank would attempt to hold himself in reserve
until the morning, by which time Jill would have been checked out, and
hopefully pronounced cured.  After that, he could please himself.  We had
to make sure that at least one of us was always available for action, in
case the cure turned out to be only temporary.  I'd be ready by the
morning, so he could take his choice of whichever of our jointly-held wives
he felt like.  Not that he could tell the difference.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 8

   Sue went to bed with Frank.  He'd pronounced himself 'ready for duty',
as who wouldn't be when they'd spent an evening with two naked beauties? 
But he was also quite pleased to be simply on standby.  He'd been on a
tiring 18-hour schedule, and the last one had been at noon that day.

   Jill came to bed with me.  I'd had an unaccustomed break from action,
and was steaming and ready for anything.

   "Uh ...  which way first, Jill?"

   "Cunt first, I think, for safety.  Frank did me up the ass at lunchtime,
so if you can't manage twice in a session, the cunt's the one I need. 
Then, when you've recovered, we'll go downstairs to try that sofa trick."

   "It won't work.  Well, not the way it did with Sue.  I can't see you
passing out."

   "Why not?"

   "Oh, a lot of reasons.  Firstly, we'd had the most glorious fuck of our
lives the previous night.  We were still hot from it.  Then, we'd talked
about your cancer that morning.  A lot of emotion was thrown into the pot.
Finally, I'd been pretty well drained for days, and it took bloody _ages_
for me to climax!"

   Much to Jill's disgust, I opted for a standard 'missionary position'
fuck.  Whatever the rights and wrongs, and despite all the conversation
we'd had that evening, I was still about to put my dick into my
sister-in-law while her husband was in the next room.  I didn't feel that
wild gymnastics were appropriate.

   I did, though, take the time to give her the
four-fingers-inside-and-thumb-on-the-clit which Hilary had enjoyed so much.
Soon she was bucking hard against my hand.  I withdrew it, and climbed
aboard.  She was hot, wet, and welcoming, and came very fast.  I managed to
hold off for a couple of minutes, and we managed a pretty acceptable
simultaneous orgasm.  In doing so, I found another difference between the
girls.  Talking isn't the same as doing, and Jill's body language wasn't
quite the same as Sue's.  She moved differently; her cunt gripped harder,
stronger, and with a pulsing rhythm which was new to me.  I asked her about
it.

   "I've been exercising down there lately," she explained.  "Frank was
doing his best, but I needed to get more exciting for him.  It helps, it
really does."

   "You're telling me!", I said emphatically.

   "And it helps me to climax as well.  I've told Sue, and she's doing the
same exercises.  She's a few weeks behind me, that's all.  After that, you
won't know which one of us you have in bed with you."

   "Oh yes I will!"

   "Wanna bet?  Suppose I was laying beside you, in the dark.  Now suppose
Sue was laying the other side of you.  You're really sure you'd know which
is which?"

   "Sure.  Try me!"

   "Maybe we will, chum."

   We sat up on the bed, facing each other, with our feet straddling each
other's thighs, and gave each other the foot massage that we'd used to such
good effect all those years ago.

   "Mmm," she said.  "I'd forgotten how good this is.  Relaxing, but
stimulating.  How did you manage to keep it a secret, Jack?  That you were
fucking both of us, and knew it?"

   "I'm good at keeping secrets," I said.  I was, too.  There were a few
others I wasn't going to tell them about yet.

   "You were what - 21?  And fucking a pair of identical twin sisters, and
keeping it to yourself?  Didn't you even want to brag to your mates about
it?"

   "They wouldn't have believed me.  And whether they did or not, they'd
have said something to whichever of you was with me at the time, and the
fun would have been over.  I was enjoying it, and I didn't want to wreck
the setup."

   The nice thing about the foot massage - apart from the massage itself -
is the view.  Jill was sitting up, facing me, with legs spread.  Not wide,
but enough so that her cunt lips were parted, with the inner lips peeking
through.  Her tits stood out proudly, the nipples erect and pointing in my
direction.

   Jill also seemed to like what she saw.  A perky grin appeared on her
face when she saw my erection struggling back to life.  She leaned all the
way forward, and took the tip in her mouth.  Both of the sisters have been
pretty limber as long as I've known them, able to lay their body out flat
along their legs, with their heads against their feet.  I carried on
massaging the flats of her feet, while she gave me the beginnings of a
pretty good blowjob.  Eventually, I suggested calling a halt.

   "Things are pretty warm now, sis.  If you don't stop soon, you'll waste
a dose that should be doing your ass some good."

   She pulled free, and sat back up.

   "Uh-uh, Jack.  This one goes all the way.  You've had a nice long rest,
and I'm certain you're good for another one after this."

   "And suppose I'm not?"

   "Then we'll try again in the morning.  But I'm tired of doing everything
to a schedule and a calendar.  Sex by numbers - ugh!  Now I've started to
enjoy it, I _won't_ be regimented.  This one's for me, and if I want to
waste it, I will!" She bent back to her task, running her hands over my
balls, occasionally reaching back to stroke my legs.

   All too soon, I felt the pumping action start, deep inside me.  So did
Jill.  She lowered her head, taking as much of my dick into her mouth as
she could manage, and waited expectantly.  When the eruption started, she
was ready for it, alternately sucking and swallowing like an expert. 
Eventually, the flow subsided.  She lifted her head, flicking her tongue
over the tip of my shaft to get the last few beads of semen as they
emerged.

   "How was that, brother?", she asked.

   I tried to get my breath back.  "Wow!  I think I just found another
difference between the two of you!"

   "Maybe, maybe not.  I've told Sue about that one, and she's quite keen
to try it.  Do you think she couldn't?"

   "I suppose she could, but it's not something she's ever suggested."

   Jill laughed.  "I don't suppose she would have.  God, we were a terrible
pair, weren't we?  Giving you both just enough, and no more.  Treating it
as a 'favour' to be doled out when you'd been particularly nice to us.  I'm
surprised that you and Frank have put up with us for so long.  How did you
stand it?"

   "Cowardice, I suppose.  Everything else in the marriage was great.  We
enjoyed each other's company, we got on well with each other's friends. 
Out of bed, no problems of any sort.  If I'd ditched Sue for some better
sex somewhere else, I'd have been losing the rest of it.  And I didn't want
to."

   "Frank said much the same thing.  Now we've got the sex thing sorted out
as well, we should have two really great marriages going here."

   "Or rather," I said, "one really great four-way marriage."

   "Even better!  Maybe we should trade in our two little shoeboxes and buy
one nice big house for our nice big brand-new marriage."

   "Sounds good to me.  We'll have to check with the others in the morning.
Talking of which," I said, "I'm now completely drained, and I've promised
your husband that I'll fuck your ass tonight.  Any suggestions?"

   "I'd suggest that we just lay down under the covers for a bit.  I'll
mash myself up behind you, holding on to your prick.  Go to sleep if you
want.  As soon as anything starts happening, I'll let you know."

   So that's what we did.  I dozed gently, not really sleeping, while my
sister-in-law pressed her nipples into my back, squirmed her cunt against
my thigh, and gently wanked me.  Then I really did sleep.

   I woke to a pair of soft lips whispering in my ear.

   "_Action stations_," said Jill.

   "Uh ...  Sue told you that one, did she?"

   "The magic words?  How could she not?  Let's go and try it!"

   We snuck downstairs, naked except for the tube of KY in my hand.

   "There could be a bit of a problem," I said, as we sat on the couch.

   "What, your wizardship?"

   "Wizard?", I asked, getting sidetracked.  Well, I had only just woken
up.

   "Wizard," said Jill, firmly.  "The one with the magic words, and the
magic sperm.  And I can see your magic wand waving at me right now." She
gave it a friendly tweak.

   "Ok," I grinned.  "If you say so.  But this is one piece of magic that
I'm not sure I can work.  The trouble is that Sue got a bit ...  um ... 
noisy during it.  And I have to remind you that our respective partners are
right upstairs.  We don't want to disturb them."

   "They won't mind at all, lover.  I guarantee it," said Jill.  "Sue's
been working on him for three hours now, on top of the discussion before
that.  He'll accept it, I know he will."

   "Well, you know him better than I do, I suppose."

   The women seemed to be handling things pretty well between them, so I
stifled my doubts and got on with it.

   I tried to re-create the scene I'd had with Sue.  We spent some time
fondling each other, kissing, cuddling, whatever we felt like. 
Occasionally I entered her cunt, simply to get another feel of those
rippling muscles in action.  If Sue was practicing this, I could hardly
wait.  When we both felt we were ready we took our positions, with Jill's
cunt scooted forward to the edge of the sofa.

   As before, we practiced.  This time, I had the KY ready.  A few strokes
into the cunt, then _Action Stations_.  I picked up her legs, put them on
to my shoulders, and pushed into the asshole.  As before, with Sue, the
practicing led to a lot of giggling.  In fact, it was hilarious.  A couple
of times we both fell on the floor laughing.

   Soon, I was hitting the target four times out of five.  Jill said this
wasn't good enough - she needed to see 100%, or it was no go.  So, we tried
some more, still laughing.  Finally, after I'd hit the target ten times in
a row, she told me to go for it.

   I pumped in and out of her cunt for all I was worth, holding my hands
around her slim buttocks.  Pretty soon, she climaxed.  Maybe not quite as
noisily as her sister, but still louder than I liked in the still of the
night.  No sound from upstairs, though, so I carried on.  She climaxed
again, louder this time.

   "Stop listening out, love," she said.  "We won't be disturbed."

   "Sorry.  It's just a little offputting, that's all."

   Perhaps the distraction helped.  Or perhaps it was the fact that my
rampant sister-in-law had already drained my balls twice that night. 
Whatever it was, my climax was even slower in coming than it had been with
Sue.

   Jill was in constant climax, just like Sue had been on this same sofa,
and I was beginning to wonder how much longer I could keep going, when I
finally felt myself start to come.  _Action Stations_, I shouted in
triumph. I lifted her legs over my shoulders, took aim, speared her asshole
in one quick thrust, and started pouring spunk into it.  The sisters really
were identical.  Jill climaxed one more time, gave a soft moan, and passed
out.

   I waited for the pumping to stop, and carefully withdrew.  When I'd
gathered my wits, and my strength, I picked her up and carried her
upstairs, laying her gently face-down on the bed.  In Sue's bedside locker
were a packet of tampons.  I took one, and gently slipped it up Jill's
anus. Just as I'd finished pushing it home, she woke.

   "What's that for, love?"

   "My third climax in three hours.  The sperm count's probably low. 
That's to hold the little wrigglers inside for a few minutes.  Don't want
to lose any!"

   "Fine by me!  So the cure's complete, is it?"

   "Let's hope so.  Was that satisfactory, madam?"

   "Most acceptable, your lordship!  I wouldn't have believed it if I
hadn't done it!"

   "You didn't do anything!", I protested.  "I had to do it all.  I'm going
to ache for days - that was bloody hard work!"

   "But well worth while," she purred.  "Finally, I have been fucked
senseless.  Wow!"

   Wearing nothing but a smile (and a tampon up her ass), she went out like
a light again.  I covered her up, paid a quick clean-up visit to the
bathroom, then slipped in beside her and was soon unconscious myself.

   When I came to, somebody was giving me a blowjob.  "Heigh-ho," I
thought. "Here we go again." I let it carry on for a while, to get all my
senses back.  There was a firm thigh pressed to each side of my head, but
surprisingly there seemed to be no cunt overhead.  As it was pitch black, I
couldn't really tell, but it felt odd.  Also, there seemed to be too many
hands running themselves over my prick, my balls, and my body.

   Two women.  One kneeling either side of me.  I reached up my hands to
check, and felt a pair of tits in each.

   "He's finally awake," someone giggled.

   "So he is!" The voices were identical.

   "So, Jack.  Now's the test.  _Which one is which?_" The voice was
demanding, and confident.  They knew for certain that this was one test I'd
never be able to pass.

   I reached up, and put a finger into each anus.

   "No help there, boy!", the mocking voice continued.  "No tell-tale
tampon.  One of us might feel a bit looser to you, but we've had a feel
around and we don't think so."

   I grabbed a tit with my left hand.  "Sue," I said.

   "Lucky guess," said the voice.  They climbed off the bed.  I could hear
them whispering in the darkness.

   Suddenly, a naked body flung itself on to me.  She gave me a long,
passionate kiss, which I returned with vigour.  "Jill," I said.

   "You are one damned good guesser, Jack!" She climbed off, and there was
more whispering.

   The two of them climbed into the bed and lay down either side of me,
touching me from shoulder to toe.  They lay silent and unmoving, apparently
not even breathing.

   I turned to my right, and whispered in her ear.  "Sue."

   "Damn!  Ok, we give up!  How do you do it?"

   I chuckled.  "You really can't tell?  Oh, well, I'll tell you.  I'm not
giving away the real secret here.  Normally, in the dark I wouldn't be able
to tell one of you lovely ladies from the other.  But right now, it's real
easy.  One of you had a spicy Thai meal the night before last.  The aroma
of it is still leaking out of your pores, Sue.  And I have a _very_ keen
sense of smell!"

   "That simple?  We've been hoodwinked, sis!"

   They proceeded to tickle me everywhere they could.  I tried to reply in
kind, but was badly outnumbered.  Eventually, I just curled into foetal
position and waited for them to stop.

   "Looks like he's had enough, sister mine!"

   One of them left the room, closing the door behind her.  The other
slipped into the bed.  Sue, thank goodness.

   "Hello, love," I said.  "Sleep now?"

   We slept.

   The alarm woke me at eight o'clock.  I hauled myself out of bed.  As I'd
expected, I ached, particularly in my lower back, the 'thrust muscles'.  I
ran myself a hot bath, as hot as I could take it.  Sometimes, a shower
doesn't fill the need, and this was one of those times.

   I'd left the door unlocked, and Sue came in with two coffees, and sat
down.

   "Good morning," she said, brightly.  "I hear you had a good night last
night."

   "Jill's been talking, has she?"

   "Well, yes.  But what I mean is that I heard it last night."

   I would have gone crimson, if the bathwater hadn't already turned me
that colour.  Instead, I choked on my coffee.

   "Don't worry, love.  You did exactly what we both wanted you to.  And
Frank was listening as well, and got _very_ turned on by it.  I hope I
don't need to spell it out to you?"

   "Uh ...  no.  So, it seems the two of you have us both where you want
us."

   "Of course.  Did you really think we wouldn't?", she said, sweetly.  "As
of this morning, we're officially a four-way marriage.  You and Frank have
two wives; Jill and I have two husbands.  The two of us are going to be
busy with work - you with your plague and cancer research, me with my
sociology bit.  So they're going to take some time off work to find us
somewhere better to live, as Jill suggested to you last night."

   "Fine.  And meanwhile, what about your 'insurance'?  If I'm back at
work, and Frank's walking around looking at houses, where does that leave
you?"

   "I'm ok until tomorrow night, love.  Frank found some extra energy last
night, and took me both ways." She turned her impish smile on me. 
"Something seemed to turn him on.  Any idea what it might have been?"

   I headed downstairs, to find Frank cooking breakfast.  A full english
breakfast - sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, fried bread, buttered toast
on the side - about 3,000 calories of artery-clogging fat.  Wonderful!  And
ideal after a hard night's work.  The four of us sat down and ate until our
stomachs distended, then topped off with coffee.  Finally, Frank sat back,
patted his midriff and burped, loud and long.

   "The inaugural meeting of the Harper-Bryan family is called to order,"
he said.  "First item on the agenda: Jill's cunt.  Is it possible to check
it here, Jack?"

   "Yes," I replied.  "Speculum, light, couch.  All the gear we need is
right here."

   "Good," he said.  "Let's check it now."

   Jill laid out on the couch, legs apart.  I greased the speculum with KY,
and handed it to Frank.

   "You're the resident expert on Jill's cunt, so you'd better look," I
said.

   He inserted the speculum, cranked it open, and peered inside.  I handed
him the torch, which helped quite a lot.

   "Wow!  Is this what I've been trying to get into all these years?", he
exclaimed.  "Looks kind of odd in there."

   "Any purple dots?", asked Jill.

   "None that I can see."

   Sue took a look, and agreed with him.  Then I did the same.

   "A fine infestation of the pink type-4 cells, but no purples.  Looks
good to me!"

   We all cheered; the other three started singing 'For He's A Jolly Good
Fellow'.

   "Aw, shucks," I said.  "It weren't nothin', really.  Just gave the li'l
gal a poke, and now she's fine!"

   We checked the ass, but it was still showing purple cells.  Not
surprising - it had only been five hours or so since my sperm had hit them,
and they seemed to need at least eight.  We headed back to the table.

   "Right," said Frank.  "First item concluded satisfactorily.  Item two:
somewhere to live."

   We spent a while discussing the kind of place we wanted, and the kind of
price bracket we could afford.  We knew we were on to a good thing here, as
the local housing market was distorted.  In this area houses cost so much
that not many people could afford any more than the cheapest available.  So
prices at the bottom end of the market had been forced up by demand, and we
could get a place twice the size for not much more than half as much again.
Life was going to get much easier for all of us.

   I was surprised by Frank's next remark.

   "Item three: Jack's magic sperm." _What?_ The girls were grinning.  The
three of them had obviously been talking while I'd been soaking.

   "You'd better explain that one, Frank."

   "Sure thing, brother.  Let's assume that you're actually doing what you
seem to be doing.  That is, curing people.  That is going to make you very
popular.  Let's hope they find some more of you, otherwise your life is
going to be pure hell.  One thing's for sure - when the news gets out,
you'd better not be here."

   I thought about this, and realised he was right.  I wanted to work. 
Needed to work.  And a baying mob outside the door wouldn't help at all.

   "Solution?", I asked.

   "You need to get away from here.  Disguise yourself.  Grow a beard. 
Whatever it takes.  Just until the heat dies down."

   "No need for a disguise," I said.  "I'll just sleep at the lab.  The
security's pretty good.  And I can get on with things there.  Like finding
a better answer than having to fuck twenty million women all on my own. 
Plus, I still have my other research to do." In the nick of time, I'd
remembered that Frank didn't know about the girls' cancers.

   "So, what do you do about the mob?", asked Jill.  "Ignore them, or cure
just a few?"

   "Curing a few might be worse than curing none," I said.  "How do I
choose?"

   "Deserving cases?", suggested Sue.

   "And who's going to decide that?", I retorted.  "If we ask for
nominations, we're going to be up to our earlobes in hard-luck stories."

   We discussed it for quite a while.  Our real problem was lack of
information.  I didn't know yet how many other men had the Magic Sperm,
though I'd probably have a better idea once I reached the labs.

   Sue's research hadn't found any women who actually _needed_ to be cured.
In fact, quite a few of them had found their lives improved by the plague.
We'd heard of one where a cure would do some obvious good - the little
11-year-old girl - and I'd met another - Jackie.  The trouble was, I
couldn't bring myself to want to fuck either one of them.  Sue and Jill
concluded that most women would _like_ to be cured.  It had been a worrying
time for both of them, wondering whether Frank and I would be up to the
next fuck.  This situation would grow worse, as every man in the country
grew progressively more and more tired.  But this wasn't the same as
actually needing it.

   "Ok," said Frank.  "Let's talk numbers.  How many can you do in a week,
Jack?  How's your Magic Sperm."

   "For Christ's sake, there's nothing magic about it.  It's just science.
We don't have the answers yet, but we will."

   "Ok, not Magic Sperm, then.  Think of another name."

   "Beans!", said Sue and Jill together.  Then laughed.  Frank and I looked
at each other, puzzled.

   "Uh - why _beans_, ladies?", I asked.  They seemed to have gone insane
together.

   Jill giggled.  "Magic beans.  Jack and the Beanstalk.  The magic
beanstalk."

   I thought about it for a bit, and realised where their twisted little
minds had been headed.  Jack and his Magic Beanstalk, hey?  Well, it didn't
actually reach into the clouds, by quite a piece, but never mind.  I
laughed.  So did Frank.

   "Right, Jack," he continued.  "How are your _beans_?"

   "I'm not happy even talking about this," I protested.  "Until a couple
of days ago, I'd only ever had one woman" - all three of them grinned -
"well, maybe two, but they both looked and acted the same.  Since then,
I've been to bed with precisely one other.  A good friend who needed my
help.  Now you're asking how many total strangers I can fuck?  What's going
on here?  Help me, Sue, please!"

   "I'd say you could probably do three a day," said my wife, with a gleam
in her eye.  "That's twenty-one a week."

   "Don't I even get weekends off?"

   "Ok.  Sundays off.  Eighteen a week."

   "Split them three ways," said Jill.  "Six family and friends, There's
going to be a lot of pressure there, so we'll have to ration.  Six charity
cases.  Let the authorities decide."

   "We get a veto, though," Sue insisted.  "Otherwise the list will be
filled with politicians' wives.  You know, the people who think they own
us."

   I sat back in stunned silence.  They were railroading me, and enjoying
it.  Frank was watching my face, and trying hard not to burst out laughing.

   "Agreed," said Jill.  "Six charity cases, with the right of veto.  The
last six, cash on the nail.  What would you say, Sue?  A thousand pounds
each?"

   "To start with.  Let's see what the demand's like."

   "Well, Jack," said Frank, smiling broadly.  "Looks like they've mapped
your life out for you.  Stud to the nation - maybe you can beat Casanova's
score!"

   "This isn't funny," I told him.  "I'll have to think about it first, so
don't none of you start booking appointments for me.  Now, are there any
more items on the agenda?"

   There weren't.  We sat around for a while, finishing off the coffee,
then Sue and I decided we'd better head off for work.  A round of kissing
ensued - Sue kissed all three of us; I kissed the girls, then faced up to
Frank.  A handshake didn't seem the right thing in the circumstances, so we
hugged and left it at that.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 9

   My leisurely bath, followed by the breakfast conference, had made me
late.  It was after 10:30 when I strolled into Med section.

   "How are the ants, Hilary?"

   She looked up from a pile of papers.  "Still not biting, Jack.  Thanks.
Looks like I'm in the clear."

   "I'm here to tell you that Sue's off the research team.  You can take
her place."

   "Oh?  Why so?"

   "Well, mainly because she's got used to having regular doses of sperm
shot inside her, and doesn't want to miss out any more."

   Hilary smiled.  "I _am_ glad to hear that.  For your sake, anyway.  And
it turns out that it doesn't matter too much.  We're getting reports all
over of women showing pink cells.  That means two things - plenty of
research material, and there's other men like you out there."

   "How many?  A lot?", I asked, eagerly.

   "Why so interested, Jack?  This sounds personal?"

   I explained some of the circumstances of my new family.  Leaving out the
identical-twin aspect, of course.  Then told her about the sexual treadmill
that they were planning to put me on.  "If there are enough beanstalks
about," I said, "it could leave me in the clear - or at least, under a lot
less pressure than I was expecting."

   "Beanstalks?"

   I explained about the beans.  She chuckled.

   "Well, in absolute terms there could be quite a lot of curers.  First
estimates indicate that there might be as many as ten thousand men in the
country with the right sperm.  Beans, that is!  Of course, there's a big
margin of error there, until we have some more figures in."

   "Uh-oh!", I said.  "Ten thousand men to service twenty MILLION women. 
Two thousand each.  At eighteen per week, over two years!"

   Hilary asked how I'd arrived at the eighteen-a-week figure.  I explained
that my ever-loving 'wives' had decided that I could manage three a day,
and I'd begged for, and been granted, Sundays off.  She seemed amused.

   "Your calculations are _way_ wrong though," she said.  "I'd have
expected better from a scientist of your stature."

   I used the calculator.  2,000 divided by 18 per week, divided by 52
weeks in a year, was 2.137 years.  She took the calculator off me, and hit
X, 2, =.  Result, 4.274.

   "Come on!", I protested.  "Why double the problem?  My figures were
right, weren't they?"

   She grinned.  "You forgot the asses, Jack.  Two holes, two fucks.  You
can only cure nine women a week, not eighteen."

   I slapped my forehead with the heel of my hand in disgust.  "That's two
days in a row that I've been out-thunk by a woman.  If this goes on, I'll
have to turn in my chauvinist badge."

   "Proves what we've been saying all these years - you men have your
brains in your testicles.  We've been keeping yours dried up, and you're
starting to lose it!"

   "Maybe you're right.  But I hope not, because this is where the research
moves down the corridor to my lab."

   Hilary thought about that for a moment.  "I think I see, but you'd
better spell it out.  I'm only a dumb woman, after all."

   "You look in your microscopes, and you see a lot of little wrigglers. 
You can't see any difference between one man's sperm and another.  Unless
they're physically abnormal.  You can't even be sure it's a man's, rather
than a whale, or a hippo, or an orang-utan.  We need to find out why my
sperm works, and for instance Mike's, doesn't.  It's somewhere inside, in
all the twisty little molecules that my machinery can take apart."

   "The genes, you mean?"

   "That's what everybody thinks of when they think 'sperm'," I agreed. 
"But there's a lot more than that.  Mitochondrial DNA.  RNA.  Enzymes.  And
so on.  I've analysed my own sperm, so now I need some comparisons.  More
sperm from other curers, and some from non-curers.  Just a couple of sperm
will do in each case.  Label them _carefully_ - we don't want to rush up
any blind alleys, or block off the main road."

   "How long's it going to take?"

   "It depends on what the answer is.  It might be something simple and
obvious, or it might be buried deep.  But we've got some of the best
molecular analysis kit in the world, right here in this building.  You
should know - you helped to pay for it with that steriliser fluid you
developed."

   "So, we could find it first?"

   "Ahead of Richards and the chasing pack?  I wouldn't be surprised.  But
let's try to collect the samples ourselves, or some of our competitors
might try to nobble us."

   She caught on.  "Put peas in with the beans, or the other way around? 
They wouldn't ...  uh, they would, wouldn't they?"

   "They would.  And call it an innocent mix-up.  Meanwhile, we'd be
looking for common factors or differences, and finding none.  So, go out
and find me some sperm to analyse.  Beans and peas, both.  Glory awaits,
madam!"

   Hilary blurred into action, as usual.  I sauntered down the corridor,
taking my time.  My work would start later, once they'd found me something
to analyse.

   Suddenly, Jackie stood in front of me.

   "You!  You tricked me!"

   "Not me, girl.  I was out of there, just like you saw."

   "But you came back!", she spat.

   "After your girlfriend had made sure you were safely asleep.  Her
choice, not mine."

   "How could you?  How could you do that to me?"

   "Lady, I didn't even _see_ you.  Anything I did, I did to Hilary.  With
her full consent.  And in case you didn't know, it seems to have worked."

   "Yes, I know.  Perhaps some good has come of it, but I've still been
betrayed."

   "Why?  You knew Hilary was fucking men.  She had to.  No choice in the
matter.  So she did it once with me, and now she doesn't have to, ever
again.  Where's the betrayal there?"

   "You're trying to confuse me!"

   "No, Jackie.  I'm trying to avoid you." I walked past her, and carried
on down the corridor.  She quickly ran to block my path.

   "But Mike's still with us, so you haven't helped at all."

   "Mike's a nice lad.  He's still there because you've still got a
problem. He's staying for you, not Hilary - she's cured.  Or would you
rather send him away and wait for the red-hot knives?  They're not
pleasant, as I assume you know."

   "And how would _you_ know what they're like," she sneered.

   "I don't.  Not really.  But I saw my wife in the middle of an attack,
and I never want to see one again.  That's why I'm working to put an end to
it."

   "And how long will this so-called cure take to find?"

   "I have absolutely no idea.  In your line of work, it's easy.  You can
look at some data, and work out pretty well exactly how long it'll take to
enter it into a spreadsheet.  Science doesn't work like that."

   "Weeks?  Months?  Years?"

   "Months, I'd say."

   "So Hilary and I will have to put up with Mike, while you're dragging
your heels."

   "I'll be working as fast as I can.  So will Hilary.  So will a lot of
other people, all round the world."

   She hung her head.  "Cure me!", she said, quietly.

   "_What?_"

   "You heard.  Do it to me.  I can't bear the thought of Mike pawing me -
and pawing Hilary, too - for another day, let alone months."

   "Can you give me one good reason, or even a bad reason, why I should?"

   "I ...  I ..."

   "There are almost a hundred women working in this building.  Every last
one of them is nicer to me than you are.  You treat me like shit, and then
come demanding favours?"

   "It's nothing personal."

   "No?  Well, maybe not.  You treat all men the same, don't you?  I know,
I know.  A man treated you badly, so all men are rapists.  Well, I'm sorry,
but you're wrong.  I'm not a rapist.  The sight of you doesn't fill me with
the urge to rip off your clothes and have my wicked way with you.  In fact,
the sight of you makes me want to get right away from you, before you come
up with some more sexist abuse.  Now go away and leave me alone, you
foul-minded creature!"

   I'm not sure what I expected.  Perhaps that she'd burst into tears and
rush away, or that she'd march away with her head high, looking down her
nose at the male world in general, or me in particular.  I certainly didn't
think she'd suddenly come at me shrieking like a banshee, with her fingers
clawed like talons and her fingernails trying to rip chunks out of my face.

   I stepped smartly to one side and behind, and wrapped my arms around her
body, pinning her hands to her sides.  Picking her up, I carried her into
an open elevator, dropped her, pushed the '5' button, and exited smartly
before the doors closed.  Whew!

   Back in my own lab, I started clearing the machines and setting them up
ready to receive the new data.  Hilary arrived with the first of the
specimens.  Since these were all 'non-magic', I assume that she'd taken
them, by force or otherwise, from various male employees.  I wondered how
she'd managed the trick.  Most men were now reluctant to part with sperm
for experiments, since they'd found much better uses for it.

   "Easy!", she grinned.  "We have three curtained-off cubicles in Med
section.  And there's quite often a queue these days.  So, I charged them
rent.  Just a little droplet.  You know, the last one, the one that usually
drips on to the sheet, or into your pants."

   I set my machines ticking, then turned to her.

   "Heard from Jackie lately?"

   "Yes.  She phoned down from her office.  I'm sorry about that, Jack. 
She shouldn't have done it.  But why did you have to turn her down?  And so
brutally, too.  It's not like you."

   "Maybe not, but Jackie gets under my skin.  She accuses me of being
something I'm not, and I hate that.  I'm not a monster, I'm not a rapist.
I'm not even a sexist.  I like women, and accept that they can do most jobs
as well as a man, or maybe a little better."

   "Most jobs, Jack?"

   "Yup.  Some work, men have an inborn advantage."

   "Such as?"

   "Well, watering the garden with a hosepipe, for instance.  We're just
naturally good at directing the jet where it needs to go.  Years of
practice!  But just about anything else, I'd agree with you.  A woman's as
good as a man.  So when Jackie came up to me, threw filthy abuse all over
me, then asked for a favour, I said no.  Surprised?"

   "Put like that, no.  But why did you attack her?"

   I got riled again.  "No, lady.  I won't have that.  _She_ attacked _me_.
All I did was pick her up and sent her back to her office."

   "That's not what she says."

   I headed out of the lab.  "Come on," I called to her.

   She caught me up easily, and stayed with me as we took a lift to the
basement.  I used my pass-code on a locked door, and we went into a small
room full of electronics.

   "Ever been in here?", I asked.

   "Never," said Hilary.  "What is it?"

   "Security centre.  Well, not the computers and storage themselves -
they're somewhere below our feet, under a lot of sheet steel.  But we can
access them from here."

   Sitting at a terminal, I logged on.  "From here, we can track just about
anybody, in any part of the building.  We don't monitor the labs - there's
a slight risk that someone could tap in to the storage and get an inside
track on our research.  Just the corridors and public areas." I entered a
code.  "Look."

   And there we were, in high-quality sound and colour.  Jackie and I,
arguing in the corridor.  Hilary watched and listened in silence, until she
saw the lift doors closing on their pathetic burden.

   "I'm sorry, Jack."

   "Don't be.  She didn't hurt me, and I tried hard not to hurt her.  But
there's no way that I could help her, though.  Not the way she asked."

   "No?  Not even for me?"

   "I'd like to.  You know that.  But my dick shrivels at the sight of her.
And she's so unstable towards me that I can't be sure that she wouldn't
take the cure, and then stick a knife in my guts.  Maybe you can find
another 'beanstalk' to sort her out."

   "Maybe.  But you're looking to be pretty thin on the ground at the
moment, and every one we find is going to be busy and popular.  You're our
best hope, Jack."

   "Talk to her.  See if you can find out what this is all about, and why
she objects to me so strongly.  And if you can get her to ask me nicely,
maybe I'll believe she means it."

   "I'll try."

   "And tell her to lose the disguise."

   "What?"

   "You know what I mean.  We both know there's no reason for her to go
around looking like a reject from the Addams family.  And as long as she
does, I'm going to have a lot of trouble keeping my dick from getting limp.
Which is the whole point, isn't it?"

   We went back to the real world, to find that things had become a little
unreal.  The word had spread about the 'cure', and my Magic Sperm.  And
everyone wanted to know more.  So far, we were only being besieged
electronically.  All the normal telephone lines were jammed.  We could make
and receive calls on our mobiles, but it was probably only a matter of time
before those numbers got into the hands of the press as well.  And the TV
crews were heading our way.

   I'd thought that security wouldn't be a problem.  We had stout walls and
door, and guards in place.  What I'd forgotten was the number of people
already inside.  My lab was quickly swamped by people from all over - some
I knew well, some were just faces to nod to, and some I couldn't recall
seeing at all.  Hilary and I headed up to the top floor, to the Admin
Chief's office.  The chasing pack wouldn't dare follow us that far.

   Michaela Bradbury was the nearest thing we had to an overall boss.  We
fought against her for more money and more space, she fought with us
against the authorities, local and national, who tried to stifle us with
form-filling bureaucracy.  She wasn't a scientist, but years of
administering science offices had given her a fair understanding of the
basics.  She listened with interest, and growing amazement, to what we'd
discovered so far.

   "So," she said eventually.  "Let me get this straight.  You're prepared
to administer eighteen cures a week."

   I laughed, ruefully.  "My 'wives' reckon I can keep up the schedule. 
I'm not so sure, but I'll certainly give it a try."

   "And of these eighteen, six will be 'family and friends', six will be
needy cases proposed by the Health authorities, and six will be sold to the
highest bidder?"

   "That's right."

   "And would 'friends' include workmates?"

   "Put it this way", I said.  "We're going to be under siege here.  I
think that everybody else will be able to come and go freely, but I'd be
followed by the pack.  Since I don't want to lead them to my home, I'll
stay here until the dust settles.  About a week, I'd say.  So if you can
find a half-dozen volunteers, it'll be workmates this week.  Anyone else in
the 'friends and family' arena will have to wait until I can get out of
here."

   "How are you fixed, Mike?", asked Hilary.  "Was that a general question,
or did you mean you?"

   "It looks as if I'm in the clear - I'm past the age barrier."

   That came as a surprise to me - if I'd thought about her age at all, I'd
have put her down as early fifties.

   "There'll be no trouble finding volunteers," she continued.  "The
problem will come in trying to narrow it down to six."

   "Make that twelve," Hilary interjected.  "The 'highest bidder' category
will probably be well-known people who won't want to run a press gauntlet.
So, if you're stuck here for a week, that category's null."

   I thought about that.  "You're right of course, Hilary.  They'll mostly
be used to shouldering the media aside, but since it would be pretty
obvious to everybody that they were coming here for a fuck ..."

   "Exactly!", she said, firmly.  "They'd prefer to avoid the gossip.  So,
Mike.  We're up to twelve, for this week only."

   "That might actually be do-able," she mused.  "Most of the women with
younger partners are getting by quite cheerfully.  And we're a young team.
I'll put it to them."

   Mike sent us a couple of doors down to the visitors' lounge while she
organised things.  The lounge had a well-stocked bar, but the two of us
stuck to fruit juice.  Science and alcohol don't mix, and I still had hopes
of being able to get back to my lab today.

   A few minutes later, Mike breezed in, and poured herself a large gin.

   "Right," she said.  "All settled.  Meeting in the canteen in fifteen
minutes." She took a long swallow of her drink.  "Somebody - probably one
of you two - will tell the boys and girls what's been going on.  By that
time, I should have been able to talk to a few people on the outside, so I
can add that into the mix, and summarise.  Then maybe we can get all you
bright lads and lasses back to work."

   It turned out that I did most of the talking.  Hilary took stage fright,
saying that she'd never faced a large audience with her clothes on, and
didn't know how.  I felt uneasy at first.  I had to tell this large crowd
that (a) I could cure the Fuck Plague, but (b) I would have to fuck them to
do it.  I was still a prisoner of my upbringing - it felt as if I were
telling a particularly dirty story at a church tea party.  Things improved
during the question session, though.  It became clear that there was an
undercurrent of good humour and support for us.  As Mike had said, the
Plague had fallen fairly lightly on this group.

   Hilary plucked up the courage to ask for a show of hands.  "Who here
feels that they actually need the cure.  Not just 'would like' it.  _Needs_
it."

   Silence for a moment, then a few hands tentatively rose.  Then a few
more.  It looked to be less than twenty, but clearly more than a dozen.

   "Right," said Hilary.  "Those ladies, and any more who feel they deserve
consideration, please come to the Medical section after the meeting. 
There's too many of you for this week, so we'll have to whittle it down. 
But I promise you that you'll all get your turn, and soon.  Just try to be
patient."

   Mike had returned, with news from the outside world.  Her first news to
the gathering was that we'd been given a large budget to find a real answer
to the plague.  Well, numbers and budgets were her job, so that was the
most important news to her.  I was keener to find out how I stood
personally.  Then she went on to talk about other matters.

   "We've been a little casual about security," she said.  "This has to
stop, and now.  Because of the research we're undertaking, and because of
Jack's situation, a lot of people will be trying to get in here.  We'll be
getting a lot more guards, and a few police will be with them.  As soon as
this meeting adjourns, we'll be working on new passes.  These are to be
carried at all times, and guarded well.  You won't be able to get either in
or out without them.  It will take a while to make passes for everyone, so
if you need to leave early, come up to the seventh floor and we'll give you
priority.

   "Meanwhile," she continued, "we're going to issue a press statement. 
You'll all get a copy, so read it.  When you're on the outside, and someone
asks you about us, don't tell them anything apart from what's on the
statement.  Please.  There's enough wild rumour floating around without us
adding to it.  Any questions?"

   There were.  People wanted to talk about every aspect of the situation,
so we let them.

   "Dr.  Harper.  Do you think it's right that you should be charging money
to cure people?"

   I stood up.  "Quite frankly, I'm not sure.  My wife thinks it's a good
idea, and I've never been able to argue with her.  We're all worried that
the 'cure' we've found is so limited." I gave them the figures, showing
that the best estimates were that it would take four years to apply the
cure to everyone, with the limited number of 'curers' available.  "So, we
have to have rationing.  My friends and workmates come high on the list, of
course.  Then there are some women in various dreadful situations where
they can't get help as they need it.  So they get on to a priority list, as
well.  And there are others, where a cure would help them a great deal -
career women with important jobs and no partners, or women with elderly
partners who can't manage it as often as needed.  Nobody's going to feel
sorry for rich-bitches or senior bureaucrats, or women who married
sugar-daddies, are they?  But they're still hurting.  So, my wife suggested
that they pay cash up front.  Why not?  I'm going to be working bloody hard
on this, so a bit of payment might not go amiss."

   Hilary broke in, all stage-fright gone.  "There's another aspect, too. A
lot of powerful people will be trying to force themselves or their wives on
to the 'deserving cases' list, pushing themselves above the _real_
deserving cases.  If we give them their own list, they might not try so
hard."

   "And when do you think a proper cure is going to be found?", asked
another.

   "We're working now to isolate the exact factor that causes the change in
the purple cells," I responded.  "When we have it, we can work out how to
manufacture it in bulk.  Finally, the manufacture and distribution.  There
may be a problem with licencing - normally a new drug takes several years
before it's cleared.  This will _have_ to be faster than that, but knowing
civil servants, it might still take a while.  My best guess - and it's only
a guess at this stage - is that we'll have the basic answer within a
fortnight; it will then take perhaps two months to gene-modify some
bacteria to produce the cure in bulk, then another six months for a
manufacturer to get to the stage where they can produce and distribute it.
So, it could be a long haul."

   "Could another research group get there first?"

   "Of course they could.  This is top priority all over the world.  I'd
like it to be us that cracks the problem, and we have a head start here,
but if someone else gets there first, fine!  The sooner the cure's found,
the better."

   The meeting broke up eventually, and I headed back to my lab.  At last!
But I'd only been working for a half-hour when Hilary phoned.

   "We're ready for you, Jack."

   "Ready?  Oh, I see." I sighed, and trudged over to Med section.

   Hilary pointed to three women sitting outside the curtained-off beds. 
"Today's intake!  How quickly can you get them done?"

   I was surprised and pleased to see that Jackie wasn't amongst them.  "I
haven't a clue!  I'm ready for one now, I think, but I really don't think I
can manage three in a day, in spite of what Sue says."

   "Well, we'll see.  Which one do you fancy least?"

   "Least?"

   "That's right.  If you need turning on for the other two, better get the
worst one out of the way first.  Viv says to leave her last."

   "Why?"

   "They've been talking, and she reckons that she's going to be best at
coaxing one more climax out of a dying prick!"

   My ears burned.  Sue was right - women were _much_ more open about
discussing sex than men were.

   "Er ...  all right.  If she says so.  And how did you manage to choose
them?"

   "You'd better talk to them and find out."

   She introduced them as Viv, Mary and Lena.  Feeling more than a little
nervous, I did so.  I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to these
three women, all virtual strangers, all expecting sex.  My magic sperm
seemed to have given me admission to the usually female-only chat club.

   It turned out that all of them had the same problem.  All were happily
married, to men who had had vasectomies.  None had close male friends who
could help them, and had been reduced to cruising the streets, looking for
S2S caps.

   "I can't say I really mind," said Mary.  "It's been quite interesting in
its way, I suppose.  But my husband gets so worried about me!  Just picking
a man at random, he doesn't like it.  It could be risky."

   "My husband comes with me," said Lena.  "It's a bit offputting for the
men, knowing that he's right there, staring at us."

   "And they're getting a bit hard to find," put in the other.  "A week
ago, there were crowds of them.  Now, it's getting a bit like hailing a
taxi - a man turns his cap round, and there's two or three women fighting
for him!"

   "Not dignified," I said, drily.  "Ok.  I'll take Mary first, then as
soon as I feel up to it, I'll come back for more.  Will the two of you be
waiting here, or should I call you?"

   Lena and Viv decided to go back to their work, while they waited for my
call.

   Mary came with me behind the curtain.  "Do you want me to take
everything off, or just my pants?"

   "Well," I said.  "How much do you want to help the others?"

   "As much as I can, of course."

   "The thing is, I could manage a quick one now, and send you back to work
in five minutes.  But then, lord knows when I'd be ready for the next.  I'm
not superman, whatever my wife thinks.  So, what I'd like is to give you
that quick one, then have some afterplay, to get me in the mood quicker. 
Something to think about back at the lab."

   Mary agreed, and stripped right off.  I climaxed quite quickly, then she
sat on my knee and we caressed for a while.  She was the best kisser I'd
ever met - not that I'd had that much experience.  Finally, she left, with
the parting shot that she'd be back as soon as her name came up on the
rota, for one up the ass this time.  I took another supercharged kiss, and
she left.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 10

   I managed the next one (Lena) within an hour.  Again, we prolonged the
afterplay to try to get me back in the mood; she also promised to return
when allowed.  It was after six o'clock when Viv strolled into my
laboratory.

   "I'm still here, Dr.  Harper.  And still waiting!"

   "Sorry, Viv.  I know it's taking a while, but these things can't be
hurried.  You don't mind hanging around?"

   "Not at all.  My husband knows where I am, and what I'm doing.  It's
something he really wants to see.  Me, off the treadmill."

   "And you'll really be off it?  The other two still have their asses to
see to."

   "And that's all I need!  Somewhere, some time, I must have picked
another curer.  I'm fine down here" - she rubbed her pubic mound - "as I
found out today, when I had my checkup.  The doctor was very cross that I
didn't know who it was who'd done it!"

   "That's right.  They're desperate to find as many curers as they can -
we seem to be a bit thin on the ground."

   "So, I thought to myself, let's see if I can put that nice Dr Harper in
the mood.  I'm told it's easier to get hard when it's a 'back door job', as
my husband calls it.  I'd guess that's why the other two went for the cunt
cure.  There's not so much of a shortage of volunteers for an ass-fuck."

   "Easier to get hard, maybe.  But not so easy to climax, for me at least.
I like it more when the woman's enjoying it, too."

   "Ah," she said.  "That's where you're in luck.  We didn't trust
contraception, so Bill and I did a lot of 'back door' sex until he had his
vasectomy, and to get the poor love to have it done, I had to promise that
we'd keep it up afterwards.  So I learned to enjoy it."

   "Uh ...  how?  With no G-spots around?"

   "Easy!", Viv replied, opening her bag.  "My trusty vibrator - see!  With
this up me, humming away, and with Bill fingering my clit, I usually manage
about ten orgasms to his one.  Want to try?"

   I felt myself stirring down below.  Maybe!

   "Well, I suppose we could try now," I found myself saying.

   "Back to Med section?  Or in here?  Since I'll be on all fours, we don't
really need a bed, though it's a bit hard on the knees ..."

   "I've got somewhere better.  Didn't the grapevine tell you?" I led her
to the lifts, and up to the seventh floor.

   "This is normally the visitors' lounge," I said, opening a door.  "But
since we won't be having many visitors thanks to all this extra security,
they've converted it for me."

   They had.  During the afternoon, they'd converted it to what Mike
Bradbury called, in rather poor taste, 'Jack's Passion Palace'.  The drinks
cabinet was still in place, but the sofas and armchairs had been moved from
the centre of the room off to one side.  A corner had been partitioned off
with a couple of room dividers.  And inside "A bed!", squealed Viv.  "A
real double bed!"

   "I didn't fancy sleeping on the sofa," I explained, "so I asked if I
could have one.  And Mike made it a king-size, in case I had company. 
Thoughtful, isn't she?"

   "En-suite bathroom too," she said, opening doors.

   "Shower only, I'm afraid.  I'd have preferred a tub, but I couldn't ask
them to rearrange the plumbing as well as the furniture.  Not at such short
notice, anyway.  And a small kitchen through that door.  Not really for
cooking food - they use it for preparing visitors' snacks and coffees.  But
there's a microwave and a refrigerator in there, so I'm pretty well set up
to last out the siege."

   We sat on the bed and undressed.  My erection was still pretty
half-hearted, so we climbed into bed for a petting session.  She told me
the places she liked to be touched, so I touched them.  She told me the
places she didn't like to be touched, so I left them alone.  Let Sue do her
research her way - this was much more fun!

   Right from the start, her hands were everywhere.  Obviously, she had
realised my inexperience - I couldn't tell her what I liked when I didn't
really know.  I knew more about my reactions than I had a week ago, but not
much.  It took her less than five minutes to map out my entire body
surface, memorising every erogenous zone.  And then she put the knowledge
into practice.  Wow!  With hands, feet, mouth and body, she brought me up
to full strength faster than I would have thought possible, then sat
astride me.

   "I thought it was your ass that needed seeing to," I panted.

   "You aren't ready yet, so I thought I'd have a little fun.  You don't
mind, do you?"

   "Uh ...  no!" Any other answer would have had me thrown out of the
Lechers' Guild.

   She rode me hard, staying upright the whole time.  My gaze locked on to
her bouncing breasts, with her long hair flapping loose across them, and
then moved down across her taut abdomen, into the shadowy depths of her
pubic hair.  In amongst them, I could see my cock doing sterling work, with
no effort from me.  I looked slowly upwards again, to see her laughing
mouth, with her tongue hard out at the side the only sign of effort.  The
rhythm changed, and she climaxed, hard.  She flopped down on top of me,
still connected.

   "Ooh, that was good!  Sorry about that, but I couldn't leave without at
least one climax from the most celebrated prick in the kingdom, now could
I?"

   I chuckled.  Rich and famous, I'd said.  I'd meant my research work, but
it seemed that I was going to be famous for something quite different!

   She jumped off me and found her vibrator.  Meanwhile, I went for the KY,
thoughtfully provided in the bedside locker.  As soon as she was on all
fours, I applied the KY and went for penetration.  Just a quick in-and-out,
to relax the muscles and open the passage.

   "Right, Jack.  Now could you give me a buzz with the vibrator, please?",
she asked.  "About three-quarters in, then buzz against the clit for ten
seconds, then back in all the way.  Don't worry if I scream!"

   I complied, and she screamed, loud and long.  She seemed to go into
continuous climax right from the start.  I entered her, and was startled by
the feel of the vibrator working in the other passage.  Once I'd got used
to it, it was a pretty big turn-on.  I sighed with relief - this was going
to be easy, after all!  Massaging her clit with one hand, and holding my
balance with the other, I stroked in and out of her ass for a couple of
minutes, then came in a sudden rush.  I almost blacked out at that point,
but managed to keep it together enough to finish pumping, and withdrew
gently.

   "Uuh," I groaned.  Or something just as intelligent and witty.

   Viv reached down and extracted the vibrator.  "Thank you, Dr.  Harper.
Thank you very much indeed!"

   She headed for the bathroom.  Lying prone and semi-conscious, I managed
to stammer out a warning to try to keep as much semen inside her as
possible.  This was the sixth time in less than twenty-four hours that I'd
had my balls drained, and I didn't know how much magic had been left in
them.  Enough, I hoped.  Or did I?  Repeating the dose wouldn't be the
worst thing in the world, after all.

   We had a polite, civilised drink before she left, with a lot of
small-talk and banter.  As she got up to leave, she stopped.

   "Do you have a knife in the kitchen?  A sharp one?"

   "Yes, I expect so.  Why do you ask?"

   "I thought I might carve a notch on the bed.  First of many!"

   I laughed.  "If I keep to the schedule my wife is planning for me, that
bed would be notched away to nothing!  No, thanks.  A nice thought, but I
don't intend to keep score.  Anyway, this is one I'm not going to need any
help at all to remember."

   She kissed me goodbye, and left me alone.  I really should have gone
back to the lab, but found myself unable to face work again for a while.  I
sat there for a while, sipping my drink, then headed for the kitchen to
assemble a bite or two to eat.

   The silence started to get to me, so I turned on the stereo system. 
There was a TV there as well, but the last thing I needed at the moment was
news of the outside world.  Just music, playing gentle and low, suited my
mood.

   At about eight, I phoned Sue.

   "Hello, lover?  How's your day been?  After the workout Jill gave you, I
wasn't sure that you'd be able to manage anything.  Have you been
unfaithful to me today?"

   I assured her that I had, the requisite three times as ordered.

   "Well done!  My big, brave boy!"

   "Look - I'd love to have you here.  They've made me a small apartment,
complete with double bed.  But it's going to be lonely here tonight, and
you really can't come.  They've just tightened up the security, so until
we've got you a pass ..."

   "Don't worry, lover.  I've got Frank to keep me warm, remember!"

   I didn't flinch.  The girls' training was obviously starting to work on
me.  We chatted on, for another half-hour or so, and then said goodnight.

   "Love to Jill and Frank," I said.

   Laughter came down the telephone.  Two voices laughing?

   "You've been talking to both of us," said Sue - or maybe Jill.  "I'm in
the lounge, Jill's in the bedroom, and we've been switching over after each
sentence!"

   "Damn!", I said.  "Fooled again!"

   "Well, we had to pay you back for last night, didn't we?  Goodnight!"

   I smiled, and put the phone down.  Suddenly my mood was much better.

   There was a knock on the door.  I walked across the room to open it. 
Jackie.

   "Look," I said.  "I've had a tough day.  Please - I can't take any more
grief."

   "I won't stay long.  I'd just like to apologise for my behaviour this
morning."

   "Hilary's had words, has she?"

   "Yes - and she was right.  I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, and
I shouldn't have lied to Hilary, telling her you'd hit me.  And thank you
for not reporting me.  I'd have killed you if I could.  I'm sorry."

   "Fine.  Apology accepted." I started to close the door.

   "No - wait," she said.  "Can we talk?"

   "If all you want is talk, then yes.  I can't manage any more sex today,
so we're both safe on that one.  I've just finished talking to my wife, and
I'm feeling lonely.  If you promise to be civilised, yes.  Come in."

   She sat down.  "You're very close to your wife, aren't you?"

   "Yes.  Best friends - we always have been.  And now that the sex thing
has been sorted out, the marriage has gone from pretty good to bloody
amazing."

   "She writes those papers that everyone's talking about, doesn't she? 
About the new sexuality that the plague seems to have started."

   "That's her.  Well, she didn't actually write the first one.  She just
got her students talking on tape, then called in some colleagues and played
it back to them.  Then, after they'd talked it through, she left them to
write it while she came out for dinner with me."

   "Where did you go?"

   "The Mango Tree."

   "Oh, we love that place.  Hilary and I go there a couple of times a
month."

   "We probably go once a month - it's too expensive to go more often.  But
yes, if we were as well off as Hilary, we would."

   "I'm not living off her money, you know," replied Jackie.

   "Sorry - I didn't mean to imply that you were.  None of my business,
anyway."

   "That's ok.  I don't want the news to spread too far, but I own a fair
chunk of this company.  I was lucky, and bought into it early before it got
big."

   "I wish I'd had the foresight - and the money.  But Sue and I spent all
our savings buying and furnishing the house.  In fact, we had to borrow
some off her sister."

   "Her sister?"

   "Yes." I decided to break cover on the subject, since Sue's biochemistry
wasn't an issue with the researchers any more.  "Identical twin.  They're
very close."

   "Oh!  I had an identical twin, once.  She ..."

   "Hilary told me you had a sister who'd died.  Didn't say you were twins,
though."

   "No - I've never told her.  It hurt too much, to think that Karen could
just go and leave me like that.  I hated her for years!  Leaving me to face
those two.  Every day, I wished I'd had the courage to do what she did. 
Then, every night, I blamed her for being a coward."

   "Two?  I understood it was just your father."

   "And my brother, Ben.  He was three years older than us."

   "I'm sorry.  Shouldn't have brought it up - I know you can't talk about
it."

   "Tonight, I think I can.  If you can bear to listen, that is."

   "Go ahead.  Do you want a drink?"

   "Brandy, please."

   I poured two generous measures, and sat facing her.

   "Go ahead, then.  Talk, if you want.  But don't feel that you have to."

   "Would you sit next to me?  Not touching, but next to me?  I can't look
at you."

   I sat beside her.  She looked resolutely straight ahead, clutching her
brandy glass.

   "Do I really look like him?"

   "You look quite a lot like my father.  And even more like my brother.  I
know you're not either of them, but seeing you ...anyway, it started when
we were nine.  Just father, at first.  We couldn't understand it.  Most of
the time, he was Dad, just like he'd always been.  Full of fun, laughing,
joking ...  we loved him.  Then, just sometimes, he'd turn into a monster.
The first time, it was with Karen.  He'd managed to get her on her own. 
And afterwards he cried, apologised, promised it would never happen again,
and begged her not to tell anyone.  She kept her word.  She didn't even
tell me!" Jackie took a sip of her drink, and shuddered.

   "That must have been hard.  If you were anything like Sue and Jill, that
is.  They share everything, and can very nearly read each other's minds."

   "We were a lot like that.  I knew something had happened, something
scary, and Dad was involved somehow.  But I didn't know any more than that
until a few weeks later, when it was my turn.  He wasn't so careful this
time - Karen came into the bedroom just as he finished.  Oh, he cried and
apologised again, but Karen had heard it before, and now she told me about
it.  We both knew it would go on happening unless we did something.  So, we
gave him one last chance.  Do it again, and we'd tell."

   "But he did it again?"

   "Yes.  I think it was like some sort of drug - he couldn't help himself.
He told us that if we told anyone, he'd go to prison and we'd lose our
house.  We'd have to go into care, and even worse things would happen to
us. We had a talk after he'd gone, and decided he was probably telling the
truth.  And most of the time, he was still our lovely, cuddly Dad.  He was
only a beast for a few minutes, a couple of times a month.

   "At first, anyway.  Slowly, though, he changed.  The lovely, cuddly Dad
went away for good.  He spent a lot of time away from the house, and he was
moody and spiteful when he was home.  And we saw the beast more and more
often.  A couple of times a week, then nearly every night."

   "And your mother never suspected anything?"

   "No, not a thing.  Most of the time she didn't notice us or Dad anyway -
she was completely wrapped up in her outside interests, and in Ben, our
brother.  Maybe some of that was our fault.  Karen and I had each other,
and never needed anyone else.  If we'd spent a bit more time with Mum and
Dad and Ben, we'd have been a proper family.  But the two of us shut
ourselves away together.  We were so happy, and we really didn't need
anyone else."

   "Did your father suggest that to you?"

   "I think maybe he did.  It's hard to remember, now.  Why?"

   "An old trick.  Get the victim to believe it's her fault."

   "Maybe.  Certainly it didn't take him long to get us completely ground
down.  We'd do anything he asked, any time he asked us.  If he drove us
anywhere, one of us would have to sit in the front and suck on his prick.
If it was too short a journey, or he was slow in coming, he'd park up to
make sure we finished the job before we got there.  And then he'd take us
into the party, or whatever, tell us to be good, and kiss us goodbye.  And
we'd smile, and wave to him, then join in with whatever our friends were
giggling over.  Knowing that we'd have to do it again on the way back."

   "And when did Ben come on the scene?"

   "It had been going on for a couple of years, and we were eleven.  One
night, he raped Karen's ass until it bled, but he still couldn't climax.  I
think now that he'd been drinking.  So, he threw her aside - literally,
threw her - and did the same to me.  After he'd gone, we cried and cuddled
for a bit, and talked about what we could do.  I suggested we tell Ben.  He
was a really nice elder brother.  We'd just started at his school, and he'd
shown us around and once stopped some boys from bullying us.  We though
maybe he could protect us from Dad, as well."

   "But it didn't work."

   "It didn't." Her voice was ice.  "Ben went to Dad, told him he knew what
was going on, and demanded a piece of the action."

   She swallowed the rest of her drink; I poured her another, and we sat in
silence for a while.  Then she resumed her story.

   "So, now there were two beasts.  It was much worse than before - they
seemed to egg each other on, doing things that neither one would have done
on his own.  They liked nothing better than to take us up the ass, side by
side.  They'd have a race, to see who'd come first, laughing all the time.
Or they'd take just one of us, front and back at the same time.  They
called it a 'bacon sandwich', and used to joke about it in front of mother,
calling us 'piglets'.  She thought it was a sweet little nickname, and even
used it herself sometimes.  She still hadn't caught on, of course.

   "How could she not know?  All four of you upstairs, every night?"

   "She was one of those rich women with a busy social life.  She was out
with her friends most nights - committee meetings, get-togethers, whatever.
She wasn't often home before nine.  They had plenty of time, and they knew
it.  And used it!  That went on for another couple of years."

   "Until you were thirteen.  Then Karen ..."

   "Killed herself, yes.  She'd kept another secret from me.  She was
pregnant."

   "Oh, god!"

   "Even that didn't stop them.  They did the 'bacon sandwich' thing on me
the night before Karen's funeral!  I had to do something.  So, I told
mother.  It might have worked, too, but I didn't stop at telling her about
father.  I told her about her beloved Ben, as well.  She wouldn't believe
me, and threw me out.  I didn't even get to Karen's funeral."

   She was silent for a few minutes, and then picked up the story.

   "I was taken in by a quite nice foster couple, and I should have been
happy."

   "Hilary says that you were raped by the other inmates."

   "No.  That's what I told her, but it wasn't true.  Everyone tried to be
nice to me, but I couldn't respond to anyone.  Karen was gone, and I had a
huge empty hole inside me."

   I thought about Sue without Jill, or Jill without Sue, and understood
some of it.

   "But, yes, I was raped every night.  I still am.  Father and Ben come to
me when I'm asleep.  Sometimes, on my best nights, Karen's with me, holding
my hand, suffering with me.  But usually I'm alone with them." She broke
down.  So did I.

   I wiped tears off my face, then handed a tissue to Jackie.

   "Have you never seen any of your family again?"

   "Once.  I was nineteen, and had been a prostitute for three years.  Ben
didn't recognise me - he just picked me up off the street.  I didn't
recognise him either, at first, not until I'd got into his car and taken
his money.  A very nice car.  I don't think he had a job, but Mum would
have given him anything he'd asked for.  He was on drugs, too.  There was
something about the eyes - I'd seen it a lot in the other girls.

   "We went back to my place, and talked.  Father had left them both, a
couple of months after I went into care.  He'd got used to having young
girls available at home, and Mum just couldn't do it for him any more.  So
he found a younger woman.  With two little girls."

   I recoiled at the horrific image.  "Didn't you tell anybody?  Those
girls needed saving - maybe they still do!"

   "It had all happened six years before I knew anything about it.  They
went off abroad somewhere, Spain or something.  Ben never knew where. 
After the divorce, father never contacted them again.  It was a clean-break
divorce, with mother getting the house and business, and father taking the
money and investments."

   "And was Ben easier to get on with, now you were both grown-up."

   She laughed, a brittle, tinkling sound with no humour in it.  "I thought
so, at first.  Until he asked me to give him what he'd paid for!  I offered
him his money back, but he insisted.  Then he took me up the ass - 'for old
times sake', he said.  I said 'the ass is twenty pounds more'.  He smiled,
threw forty on to the bed, and walked out.  I never saw him again."

   I knelt down in front of her.  "Jackie, I want to apologise most humbly
on behalf of the entire male species.  Nobody should have to tell a story
like the one you've just told me.  And if you want to take a swing at me,
please feel free."

   She looked at me, for the first time since she'd started her story. 
"No, thanks.  It's a good offer, but I don't need it any more.  It wasn't
you.  It was just two evil bastards who happened to look like you.  Hilary
told me that I needed to talk about it, and she was right!  Maybe I can
start putting it behind me at last.  Make me another drink, and I'll tell
you the rest of the story.  It gets happier from here on, you'll be glad to
hear."

   I fixed us both another drink, and sat back down.  She reached out her
hand, and clasped mine tightly.

   "One of the other girls on the street asked me if I had a sister.  That
made me choke up, but I managed to croak out that no, I didn't.  Anyway,
she said that a girl who looked a lot like me was doing a terrific show at
one of the strip-clubs, and it was turning on the punters like never
before. So, I bought my way in, and saw Hilary for the first time.  And
yes, she did look a lot like me.  Or as I thought, a lot like Karen.  She
had bleached-blonde hair, of course, but Karen and I had both been fair
when we were younger.  And I'd bleached as well.  Blondes can charge more."

   I was puzzled, and it obviously showed.  Jackie laughed at my
expression.

   "I know what you're thinking.  A dog like this - and gorgeous Hilary
looks like her twin sister - get away!  Well, take a look!"

   She took a photograph out of her bag.  Two women, side by side, both
laughing.  One was Hilary.  The other "That's you!"

   "That's me!  Without the disguise.  Can you see the resemblance between
us?"

   When I looked past the blonde and dark heads, I could see it.  They did
look like sisters.  My god!  When Hilary said that Jackie 'scrubs up well',
she hadn't told half of it!

   "Anyway," she continued.  "Hilary kept open-house for hookers in her
dressing-room before each show.  Told us what she'd be wearing,
demonstrated her act.  The other girls had made a good thing out of being
substitutes for her, and paid her quite well for it.  I joined the team,
for a while."

   "For a while?"

   "Not for long.  I made very good money out of it - looking so much like
Hilary, I could take first pick of the punters.  Then I fell in love with
her, and she with me.  So I stopped doing it, and moved in with her.  I'd
never told anyone about my past.  One day, I opened up and told Hilary some
of it.  We cuddled, and cried, and a couple of days later Hilary told me
that the only way I'd get it out of my system was to go back and confront
them.  Well, mother and Ben, anyway.  Maybe I'd get around to tracking
father down later.  So I did.  Not then, but soon after.  When I'd got my
courage up.  We drove out to my old house.  I hadn't seen it for seven
years, but it brought back such ugly memories that I just wanted to turn
around and go away.  She made me walk up the drive alone, and knock on the
door.  I could hardly hear my knock over the thudding of my heart.  But it
was an anti-climax.  No answer - the whole place seemed deserted.  I looked
around, and saw weeds everywhere.  My mother would never have allowed that.

   "Then a neighbour came by; I recognised her straight away.  Karen and I
used to play with her daughter when we were little.  She didn't know me at
first, but when I told her who I was she pulled me into her house.  She had
something to tell me, but couldn't say it in the street.  About six months
before, Ben had taken a heroin overdose.  Accidental, probably.  A few days
after the funeral, my mother was found floating in the river.  I was now
the sole heir to a very large amount of money, and the solicitors had been
looking for me to tell me the news.  Obviously, I hadn't read the right
newspapers."

   She paused, and frowned.

   "I should have felt something for them, but I didn't.  Not sad, not
glad, nothing.  Anyway, the money came through pretty quickly.  I'd been
living off Hilary, and now she could live off me.  Only she wouldn't.  She
carried on with her dancing, and her studies.  I'd had a reasonable
education, but she pushed me.  There was no way I could go to university -
I couldn't bear the crowds any more.  So, I did a correspondence course
through the Open University, and did pretty well.  When Hilary finished her
PhD and took a job here, I managed to get one in the accounts department.
And here we are."

   "So, why the disguise?"

   "I couldn't bear to see men _looking_ at me, wanting me!  I'd had a
bellyful of that, at home and then on the streets.  So I made sure there
was nothing worth looking at."

   She stood up.  "Thanks for listening to me, Jack.  You've helped me,
more than you know."

   "Thanks for letting me listen.  It's been an education - not one I
wanted to hear, but maybe I needed it.  I just hope those two rapists stop
visiting you at night, that's all."

   "That's the worst part.  If I could just make it go away - Hilary tries,
but I still wake up screaming.  Um, Jack?  Could I ask you a big favour?"

   "After that, anything.  Anything at all."

   "Can I stay here tonight?  Just cuddling up?"

   "As long as you don't want anything more than that, I'm your man.  But
are you sure?"

   "I have never in my life slept with a man.  I've been fucked by quite a
few, but never slept in the same bed.  I just want to be held, and I think
you're strong enough to do it.  Will you?"

   So, we slept together.  I'd turned out the light before she undressed,
to make her feel more comfortable about it.  And we just slept, naked skin
against naked skin, cuddling up and comforting each other.  And she didn't
wake up screaming, not once.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 11

   I woke up quite early the following morning.  Surprisingly clear-headed,
after the amount of brandy we'd taken on board.  Thank god, I thought, that
it never gave me a hangover.

   Someone walked out of the bathroom.  Female, naked.  Well, maybe I
hadn't woken up yet.  Never mind - with dreams like this, who wants to wake
up anyway.

   Then I looked again.  Hilary's body, give or take a curve.  Tanned and
shaved like Hilary.  Hilary's face, almost.  Hilary's smile, definitely. 
The only real difference was that the hair cascading on to her shoulders in
a shining stream was dark brown, not blonde.

   Ohmigod!  "Jackie?"

   "Good morning, Jack.  I didn't disturb you, did I?"

   "Uh, no.  But ..."

   "But what?  Oh, the transformation.  Ugly duckling into swan?  Well, I
always carry my kit with me.  In case Hilary and I decide to go on
somewhere nice, straight from work.  And you have a very well-appointed
bathroom here."

   "We like to have everything, in case some visiting VIP gets caught in
the rain.  But I have never, ever, seen it put to better use.  You're
beautiful!"

   "So Hilary keeps telling me.  Maybe I'll start letting a few more people
in on the secret.  The disguise thing is getting a bit tedious."

   "You should.  Starting with Mike - I think he's earned it."

   "Yes," she said.  "Definitely Mike.  I've been pretty nasty to him,
haven't I?"

   "From what Hilary told me, yes.  You have."

   "And do you know why I object to Mike so strongly?  Don't laugh,
please."

   "I promise."

   "Because the bastard keeps nearly giving me orgasms!"

   I tried.  I really tried.  But I couldn't hold the laugh in.  "Really?"

   "Yes!  The first time we did it, I was in agony.  I couldn't bring
myself to ask him, seeing what I thought of men.  So Hilary begged him to
do it - and he did.  It took a couple of minutes, but when he climaxed the
pain went away, instantly.  The sheer relief from pain started to turn me
on, I think.  And then he carried on with a few more strokes, and I had to
pull away, fast.  Otherwise I'd have come, right there on the carpet. 
After that, it just got worse.  I had to ask Hilary to wind him up, and
then just put it into me when he started coming.  But watching them do it
turned me on as well.  It's not right!  I'm a lesbian, for god's sake!"

   "Could it be that you swing both ways?"

   "I suppose - no!  Men are filthy creatures, with disgusting habits!"

   "Present company excepted?"

   "Present company definitely included, Jack.  Trouble is, I'm feeling
pretty disgusting myself, right now.  Is there any chance you could add me
to your roster for today?"

   "Well, Sue set me a target of three a day.  I didn't think I could
manage it, but with a lot of help from some very attractive and willing
ladies, I managed six in twenty-four hours.  So, I ask myself.  Can I
manage four today?"

   "And can you?"

   I smiled.  "I'll give it my best shot.  If it's what you really want."

   I took her hand, and led her to the bed.  No dramatics, just a gentle
insert and quietly sliding in and out.  I figured, this girl has been
fucked a lot, but she's never been made love to by a man.  In that respect,
she's a virgin.  I figured that I owed it to her, and to the male side of
the species, to show her another way.

   Unfortunately, Jackie had other ideas.  She took the 'slow and gentle'
treatment for a couple of minutes, and then started bucking like a rodeo
mule, forcing her hips against mine.  She climaxed about thirty seconds
later, paused for a while, and then went back to her 'ride 'em, cowboy'
tactics.  I didn't feel properly awake, but I managed to stay aboard her
through a couple more orgasms, until I finally managed to blast away for
myself.

   She smiled up at me.  "Thanks, Doc.  I needed that, more than I knew.  I
think you've managed to lay a few ghosts."

   "I thought I was just laying a pretty girl!"

   "That, too.  Just one thing, though."

   "Anything.  Just ask."

   "Don't tell Hilary.  I didn't tell her I was coming here last night. 
She thinks I just checked into a hotel, for a quiet think.  I do that
sometimes, when I can't stand any company, even hers."

   "Why not tell her?  She won't be jealous - she'll be delighted that
you're cured."

   "And that's just it.  I don't want her to know about it, just yet.  I
want to go home, looking like this, and seduce Mike.  He might not be so
willing if he knows I don't need it."

   "Last time I looked at his record, there was no insanity marked on it.
Of course he'll be willing!  Any man would be."

   "Even so.  I want to do it with him once, just like we've just done,
with no complications.  Then ..."

   "Then?"

   "Then, I don't know.  I'll tell him the truth, of course.  And we can
all talk it through.  I'd like him to stay with us.  I have a feeling we'd
make a pretty good three-way."

   We had breakfast together, and she left.  I reminded her that she'd need
to get her photograph changed on her new security pass - they'd never let
her out otherwise, let alone let her back in again.  Even if she did own a
big chunk of the company.

   Downstairs, the work was going well.  We now had sperm samples from
three other beanstalks, apart from mine.  We'd eliminated mitochondrial
DNA, and quite a lot of the nuclear DNA.  Either we were on totally the
wrong track, or it was something else.  Probably one or more of the
enzymes, the others thought.  I agreed, and we mapped out the analysis we'd
be doing that day.  What we needed, of course, were more specimens. 
Hopefully, the day would bring them.

   The local Health authority weren't being too helpful.  I'd offered them
six cures per week, but so far they'd only found three candidates that they
thought needed my help.  Two were lying in a hospital beds, waiting for
surgery.  The operations were such that they wouldn't be able to manage sex
for at least a week afterwards, so they needed the cure first. 
Unfortunately, they were too far gone to come to me, and, after looking out
of the window, at the press encampment, we realised that it would be bloody
difficult for me to go to them.  I left Mike Bradbury trying to think up a
suitable disguise for me, and went on to the third case.  A psychopathic
murderer, clinically insane.  She wouldn't allow a man near her, even when
her insides were burning with red-hot knives.  They'd had to strap her down
every forty hours, and persuaded one of the male patients at the same
high-security hospital to give her a 'temporary' cure.  I'm afraid that I
didn't much fancy that one at all.  I'd read about her during her trial,
and what I'd learned had sickened me.  No - she could go on burning.  There
had to be better candidates.

   Mike had decided by now that the best way to get me out was inside a
delivery van.  They came and went all day, bringing us various supplies. 
So, I'd hide inside one before it left, and they'd drive me to the
hospital. Later, I could be smuggled back inside the same way.  We had to
be careful not to let too many people on the inside know about the ploy, as
we were fairly certain that some had been bought by various newspapers.  It
worked.  At eleven o'clock, I pronounced myself ready to try for a 'cure';
a short time later, a small van drove in through the gates and into the
loading bay.  The doors opened, I climbed aboard, and we left, straight
past all the waiting pressmen.

   At the hospital, I was ushered in and given a white coat and
stethoscope. I was able to administer the first treatment quite quickly, to
a poor soul who looked more dead than alive.  A dreary business, but she
thanked me with tears in her eyes.

   After that, of course, there was an embarrassing wait.  Dangerous, too.
Quite a few people knew I was in the building, and it was only a matter of
time before someone let it slip to the wrong person.  The staff proved true
to their oaths, though.  Some three hours later I made the second cure,
which was only slightly more fun, and was smuggled out.

   Rather than going straight back behind the barricades, I headed for
home. Not my home, which was being staked out by another batch of
reporters, but Jill and Frank's.  They were out househunting again, but I'd
spoken to Sue earlier, and she was there.  It was a flying visit - I needed
to get back to work before I was missed, and she was still chasing theories
and churning out research papers.  Even so, it was good to hold her.  I
gave her a security pass, so that she could get through the cordon to see
me, and she promised to use it, that night if possible.

   Then it was back in the van, and off to the laboratories.  The driver
was one of the security guards, and saw it as 'a bit of a lark'.  I thanked
him, but thought we might need something different next time.  Somebody was
bound to talk, I thought.

   It was now late afternoon, and I headed for Med section, to see Hilary.

   "Hello, gorgeous," I carolled.

   "You sound happy," she replied.  "Had some good news?"

   "Nothing special.  The work's going quite well, though we need some more
samples.  Any luck?  And don't tell anyone, but I've been outside.  I even
managed to see Sue for a few minutes."

   "Good for you!  I know how much you miss her - she's a lucky girl.  And
yes, we've had two more samples in - beans, not peas!"

   "Glory be!  Keep them coming at this rate, and we might be able to get
somewhere."

   "And I've got some more news for you.  Jackie's dropped the disguise!"

   I managed to sound surprised.  "Has she?  This I must see - but
preferably when she can't see me.  I don't want her going for me again."

   "She stayed out last night, thinking, she said.  It seems to have done
some good.  I've never seen her look this content."

   "I'm glad for you.  Really I am."

   "And will you consider doing the cure?"

   "I don't know.  She was pretty scary yesterday."

   "Well, take a look.  Maybe you'll feel differently when you see her."

   "Ok.  Just don't build up your hopes.  Meanwhile, the Health Authority
has done you a good turn.  They put forward three scraping-the-barrel
cases, but I only accepted two.  So, if I'm to keep my average up, there's
one more cure going spare today.  Do you have a candidate?"

   "I'll find one.  Let me get my list - or, you could have any of the
three girls you did yesterday.  They all need their other ends seeing to."

   "Uh, actually, no.  Viv says she's had a full cure now."

   "What?  You managed her both ways?"

   "No.  Apparently, one of her random pickups was a curer.  She was
already ok in the cunt - she just needed her ass seeing to."

   "The scheming bitch!  I'd shortlisted those three because they said they
all needed two fucks a day!  I'll ...  I'll ..."

   "Don't worry too much about it.  She managed to conjure an orgasm out of
me when I thought it was impossible.  I don't think many of the others
would have been able to do it.  So she really didn't take anything away
from them."

   "Even so ..."

   I grinned.  "I know.  Naughty, wasn't it!"

   Hilary managed to find me a candidate, and I took her up to the seventh
floor and gave her a little of my magic potion.  What was unthinkable a few
days ago was now getting to be quite routine.  That night, Sue came to my
bed.  We managed about three hours' sleep.  Not that she allowed me to
waste any of my precious juices.  We just talked.  About Jill and Frank. 
About her work.  About my work.  I told her about Jackie, and Hilary, and
Mike, and we wondered whether they would manage the same sort of
unconventional 'marriage' that we were starting on.  It was a wonderful
night.

   The next few days were much the same.  The Health authority had widened
its definition of 'needy', and were including women with the same sorts of
problems that Hilary had identified - strong, happy marriage, husband with
a vasectomy and no male friends who could help out.  These ones were able
to come to me, and I did my best for them.  Likewise, I cured more
workmates, and workmates' wives.  Most nights, Sue slept with me.  Once,
Jill came instead, but I recognised her, of course.  Still, we had a good,
restful night.  I was looking forward to Sunday, when I hoped the night
would be anything but restful!  The research was going well, and we were
narrowing down the list of candidate enzymes.  Everyone just hoped that we
didn't find that when we'd finished narrowing, there was nothing left on
the list.  If that happened, we'd have to start again from scratch.

   Finally, the press pack had drifted away.  There was better copy
available elsewhere - the guy who was putting his magic sperm up for
auction on e-bay, all the groups who were putting Sue's new morality into
practice, other research houses who were announcing a final cure on an
almost daily basis.  These last worried us, but it turned out to be a false
alarm every time.  When a real cure was found, we'd know.  We were close
enough to the answer that we could judge the truth of other scientists. 
Mostly, they were pitching for more funds, without any real idea of a
direction to spend them in.

   Saturday evening at last!  I went home.  Not to my house, or to Jill's,
but to _our_ house.  They'd managed to find one, agree a price, and
complete the sale in a week.  Since the lawyers usually took two months or
more to do the paperwork, this was an amazing piece of work.  When I
arrived, they were still moving the furniture in.

   I met my wives on the doorstep, and went inside with an arm around each.
Frank was wrestling with an armchair in a doorway, and smiling broadly.

   I put my mouth to Sue's ear.  "Both of you, upstairs in five minutes. 
I've got a present for you!", I whispered.

   Frank wanted me to sit and have a beer, before helping him with the
furniture.  Jill objected, strongly.

   "No, Frank!  We want him to ourselves for a few minutes.  Please?"

   He didn't argue, just waved us upstairs.  The girls led me into the new
master bedroom.  I'd seen king-size beds before, but this one was massive.
It would easily take all four of us, with room for another half-dozen if
they were friendly enough.

   Sue grinned.  "Like it, lover?"

   "It looks wonderful.  But it could make things a little difficult."

   "Why?", asked Jill.

   I opened my briefcase, and extracted a couple of gelatine capsules,
about acorn-sized.  "Because the two of you need to put these things inside
you, right now.  And then wear a tampon until tomorrow morning.  And then
tomorrow night, and every night for ten days.  Until your test."

   "Spoilsport!", grumbled Sue.  "But you're right.  It does make things
difficult.  If we wear tampons in bed for that length of time, Frank's
going to figure out that we're hiding something.  And we can't tell him -
we can't!"

   "Does it have to be at night?", asked Jill.  "Couldn't we put them in
first thing in the morning and wear them all day?  Then we're free for you
and Frank at night."

   I thought about it, and tried sarcasm.  "It works best when you're
laying down.  But it should be ok your way.  All you need do is the
occasional somersault, to keep things stirred up in there."

   The girls looked at each other.  No words, just a blink.  'There's that
telepathy again', I thought to myself.

   "Will this do?", asked Sue.  They both put their hands on the floor, and
pulled their legs up gracefully into a perfect handstand.  As an example of
synchronised gymnastics, it couldn't have been beaten.

   I swallowed, hard.  Their short dresses had fallen around their
shoulders, and they were wearing nothing underneath.  To emphasise the
point, they both opened their legs into a horizontal split.

   "Um, yes!  I don't see why not.  But won't it be a little noticeable? 
And how long have you two been able to do that?"

   "Since for ever - well, since we were twelve, anyway.  And no, nobody
will say anything.  We'll tell them it's a yoga exercise - and we won't be
dressed like this!"

   "I should hope not!  So why didn't I know about it?"

   Sue cartwheeled herself upright.  "Because, husband mine, we used to
have a silly hangup about the sex thing.  And the last thing we wanted to
do was to turn you on!"

   "Silly," I said.

   "_Very_ silly," echoed Jill.  "Well, we know better now, sis, don't we.
You'll be _amazed_ at the things you don't know about your wives!"

   "I can't wait to find out!  Ok.  We'll junk these."

   "What?", wailed Sue.  "No - these are our cure!"

   "And your body needs a rest from the treatment for fourteen hours out of
twenty-four.  So, if you have them tonight, you can't have them tomorrow.
Don't worry.  From what I've seen in my research, six days will be plenty
for a full cure from your stage of the cancer, and we've got ten.  Tomorrow
morning, I'll sneak out to the lab and make up another batch.  Back here at
around ten o'clock, you wear them until eight in the evening, then you're
clear for the night.  Right?"

   In answer, I received a glorious stereo kiss, while two nearly-naked
bodies rubbed themselves against me.  _Three_ tongues intertwined.  Now
_that_ was different!

   The four of us had a merry time arranging the furniture.  Some was new -
like the bed - and some had come from our respective houses.  I was glad to
see that our old sofa had been given a prominent position.  If any piece of
furniture deserved a plaque over it, that one did.

   We didn't try to do it all at once - just a half-hour or so of sweaty
exercise, then a break for a drink and a discussion of how things were
looking, and which chair or table needed to be moved where, next.  A few
times, things got frisky; not surprising, seeing how the girls were
dressed. Frank and I kept getting little flashes of ass, and didn't even
try not to look.  He was still a little bothered that he couldn't tell the
girls apart, so he waited for me to give one of them a friendly grope
before he started on the other.  His plan failed miserably, as I'd
diagnosed his problem and had deliberately gone for Jill.  Sue winked at me
as Frank threw her on to the sofa.

   Jill led me to the kitchen.  "You really don't mind?", she asked.

   "Not at all.  I like this situation, a lot.  But wouldn't it be better
if you gave Frank some way of telling you apart?  Nothing too obvious - a
large 'J' on your forehead, and an 'S' on Sue's, for instance.  That way,
he'll know which one he's got.  The way things are, he's fucking two very
beautiful women, but doesn't know it!  I rather think he'd like to."

   "I see your point, I think.  Ok, Jack, leave it with us.  We'll think of
something."

   Back in the lounge, things had gone past 'frisky'.  Sue's little dress
was puddled on the floor, with Frank's clothes scattered around.  Frank was
lying on the sofa, with Sue on top of him, bouncing away happily.  Frank
coloured slightly on seeing us, but I turned away with a friendly wave, and
he went back to concentrating on the matter in hand.

   Jill undressed me fast, undid a single fastener and stepped naked out of
her dress, then sat me down in an armchair.  It was a big, roomy chair,
easily big enough for what we both had in mind.  She sat on my lap, facing
me, then raised herself up, reaching below for my trusty 'beanstalk'.  The
pressures of the past week hadn't worn it out, I was glad to notice.  In
fact, all the exercise seemed to have done it some good.  She lowered
herself slowly, impaling herself on me.  For a while, I couldn't even tell
which hole I was in.  It was happy there, and that seemed to be all that
mattered.  Then the cunt muscles started rippling, and I knew.  Fine by me
- and even finer when she started raising and lowering herself, slowly at
first and then with a faster rhythm.

   It was a truly glorious fuck, all the better for coming after a week of
'business' fucks.  Oh, I'd enjoyed them, one and all.  I couldn't have done
it otherwise, could I?  A man can't fake a climax.  But it was still
'business'.  The women were in my bed not because they wanted a fuck, but
because they wanted a cure.  They'd mostly enjoyed themselves, but it had
always been my orgasm that was important to them, not theirs.  Quite a lot
like my former married life, in fact.  _This_ life was much better.  One of
my wives sitting on my shaft, bouncing herself into successive orgasms; the
other one across the room, doing likewise with my co-husband.  When I came,
it was in sheer relief - finally, I was doing it for myself, for _fun_. 
Just to please myself (and Jill, of course).

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 12

   It turned out that the big bed wasn't really for sleeping in.  The girls
had realised that Frank and I needed to be led fairly gently into a
four-way marriage, and had arranged two normal-sized beds in two other
bedrooms.  I took Sue into one, Frank went into the other with Jill.  I
suspect the girls swapped over several times during the night, but couldn't
tell with the lights out.  Anyway, sex wasn't really on the menu - it was
just touch & talk, with plenty of sleepy cuddles.

   The following morning, I excused myself after breakfast, and went to the
labs.  Came back; administered the cures, and then had a lazy day with my
new family.  The girls took a few telephone calls, but didn't say what they
were about.  When I asked Sue, all she said was "just business, love. 
Nothing exciting."

   Late in the evening, the phrase came back and hit me between the eyes.
Business?  The world that she inhabited, and Jill as well, was nothing at
all to do with business.  She had always been proud of the fact that
nothing she did at work had anything to do with sordid commerce.  I had a
terrible suspicion, and tackled her about it.

   "Uh - Sue?  These 'business' calls.  Is there anything I need to know
about them?"

   "Actually dear, yes.  We've been getting quite a lot of requests for
your services.  We've booked the first one for ten o'clock tomorrow
morning, here."

   "What?  But I have to be at work."

   "But you have to come back again, don't you?  To give Jill and I another
of your little magic capsules, remember?  So, while you're here, you might
as well earn us some money.  Any objections?"

   "Um.  Not really, I suppose.  Who is it?"

   "Shelley Ford.  You know, the film actress.  Any problem with that?"

   Far from it, I thought.  Perhaps this little 'business' that the girls
had set up had its good points, after all.  I tried to dampen my
enthusiasm, just for form's sake.

   "I wish you'd told me", I grumbled.

   "Come off it, Jack - your little friend jumped to attention as soon as I
said the name, didn't he?  Admit it!"

   "All right, all right.  If that's the calibre of client you're going to
get, I'll be happy."

   "We can't promise they'll all be in that league, of course.  But you
never know - some of the others might surprise you."

   I thought of Jackie, and silently agreed with her.

   The following morning, I went to the labs early.  I hadn't enjoyed being
imprisoned there for a week, but being permanently on the premises had had
its advantages - the work was going very well indeed.  And two nights and a
day away from the place had revived my enthusiasm.

   Hilary was in early as well, so we caught up on our news.  Jackie had
confessed to her about our night together, and its happy outcome.  She was
now fairly definite that she swung both ways, and Mike had decided to join
the household on a permanent basis.

   "Lucky him!", I said.  "Two gorgeous women, both wealthy.  He's got it
made!"

   Hilary smiled.  "It's looking good so far.  I still prefer Jackie in my
bed - I _can_ swing the other way, as I found out with you, but I like
women a lot better than men.  Still, Jackie's so much better with this
arrangement that I can't help but be happy.  And yes, Mike seems to be
doing all right.  We're planning on sending him back to university for his
doctorate - he couldn't afford to stay on after his BSc before."

   We discussed my 'timetable' of cures, and I told her that the girls had
found me a cash customer for that morning.

   "So, should we put you down for one 'workmate' cure today, or none?"

   "As far as I know, I have two free slots, not one."

   "And suppose this cash customer wants it both ways?"

   A vision came over me of Shelley Ford's delectable ass, naked and
wagging in my direction.  "Er ...  good point ...", I stammered.  "I don't
know."

   "Well then," she said, "the best thing is if I just keep a roster of
who's asked for a cure, and I'll call one in every time you let me know
you're available.  As long as you guarantee me six in the week, it doesn't
really matter when."

   "It might to the women concerned, I suppose," I said.

   "It probably does!  But they've been getting by, for a month or more. 
An extra day or two won't hurt.  And how are you fixed on the 'charity'
front?"

   "I don't know.  Mike's not in yet, but I suppose she's organising it."

   "One category you don't have to worry about is the very young girls.  I
know it bothered you."

   It had bothered me a lot.  I know, I know.  None of them were virgins,
otherwise they couldn't have caught it in the first place.  But, especially
after hearing Jackie's story, there was no way that I would want to fuck a
nine-year-old.  I might stretch a point for a fourteen or fifteen, but that
was all.  And I'd been worried that the Health authority would line up a
load of little kids for me.

   "So, why don't I have to worry?"

   "You've heard the story about the eleven-year-old and her stepfather? 
And the boy next door?"

   "Yes.  She was one of the ones I was worried about."

   "She's cured.  Turns out that the boy has his own 'magic beanstalk'. 
So, the authorities have hired him to cure all the underage victims they
can find."

   "Hired him?"

   "Oh, yes!  They're paying him quite a lot of money, and he's making even
more on the side.  His mother and the little girl's mother are acting as
his agents, and they reckon he'll be able to make enough money to set the
two kids up for life."

   "So they're staying together, are they?"

   "They want to at the moment.  And even if it doesn't work out long-term,
both families agree that the two kids should share the money equally. 
After all, she's the victim.  And if she hadn't needed treatment, he'd
never have known he was a curer."

   "And a glittering career might never have happened?"

   "Yes.  Funny how things work out."

   My lab work didn't take long.  I finished up, and left the building
shortly after nine, with the two gelatine capsules that my wives were
waiting for.  I applied them, and both girls promised to stand upside-down
for five minutes every hour.  Sue left, eager to carry on with her
interviews.  Frank had already gone out, but Jill stayed behind to help me
with my visitor.

   "Nervous, dear?", she asked.

   "A little, I suppose.  I mean, she's every man's wet dream, isn't she?
What's she like, really?  You've spoken to her, haven't you?"

   "Actually, no I haven't.  This one was set up through her agent, who
sounded a bit hard and pushy.  But I suppose all Hollywood agents sound
like that.  We'll just have to wait and see for ourselves whether she lives
up to her billing."

   We waited.  Ten o'clock, no show.  Eleven, still nothing.  I got up to
leave.

   "Sorry, Jill.  I have better things to do."

   "Better than sitting with me?  Surely not?"

   "You know what I mean.  She booked me for ten o'clock.  I was here in
plenty of time.  So where is she?"

   The telephone rang.  "Is Shelley there?", demanded a loud male voice.

   "I don't know who you mean," I replied.

   "You know damn well!  Put her on!"

   "Now look here you, whoever you are.  Listen carefully.  There is no-one
in this house called Shelley.  Nor has there been for the past week.  I
can't say about before that, because I've only just moved in.  Got that? 
Goodbye."

   I put the phone down, quite hard.  Seconds later, it rang again.

   The same voice.  "Listen to me, guy.  I'm Shelley's agent, and you can
tell her from me that if she doesn't call me in five minutes her tits are
going to be in the mangle.  Got that?  Goodbye." A _click_ at the other end
demonstrated that I wasn't the only one who could slam a phone down.

   "Now there's a guy who likes to have the last word," I said mildly.

   I decided to wait around.  Things were getting interesting.  Eventually,
at about half-past eleven, the lady herself arrived, in a large
chauffeur-driven car.

   Jill opened the door to her.  Shelley swept straight past, ignoring her
completely.

   "Right.  Here I am.  Now, can we get this over with?  I'm booked solid
with interviews, all day."

   "Good morning, Miss Ford," I said.  "I'm Jack Harper.  This is my wife."
I gestured at Jill, still standing by the open door.

   "Never mind the pleasantries - I told you, I'm in a hurry!"

   "In that case, Miss Ford, you've come to the wrong house.  Goodbye."

   "What?", she shrieked.  "I've made a special trip over here for this,
and you're telling me I'm wasting my time?  Come off it - I've paid good
money for this."

   "I don't know whether you're wasting your time, Miss Ford, but you're
certainly wasting mine.  And my wife's.  As for your money, it will be
refunded."

   "Oh no you don't!  You've advertised a service, you go through with it.
Otherwise my agent will sue you for everything you've got, including the
shirt off your back.  And believe me, he knows where to find the best
lawyers."

   "The contract was for ten o'clock this morning," I said, keeping my
voice level.  "It's now nearly mid-day.  You broke the contract, not I. 
Incidentally, talking of your agent, he rang some time ago, wanting to
speak with you.  I thought he was particularly rude - but after hearing
you, I think maybe I misjudged him."

   "Geoffrey rang?  What did he want?"

   "All he said to me was that he needed to speak to you, and that if you
didn't call him in five minutes, quote, your tits would be in the mangle,
unquote.  That was over half an hour ago.  Doesn't your car have a phone he
could have called you on?"

   "It does.  I have a mobile on me as well.  But I make damned sure that
neither one is turned on before noon.  _Everybody_ wants to talk to me!"

   "Everybody but me.  I suggest you go back to your car, point it in the
direction of all your precious interviews, and phone your agent on the way.
Goodbye."

   I touched her arm, trying to encourage her to leave.

   "Get your goddam hands off me!  I'll go when I'm good and ready."

   "Jill, call the newspapers," I said.  "Tell them that Shelley Ford has
arrived here, demanding a fuck that she's nearly two hours late for, and
won't leave until she's had it.  Tell them that she sounds as if she's
either drunk, or on drugs.  Possibly both.  Ask them to send a
photographer."

   "Sure thing," Jill replied, her eyes dancing.  She picked up the
telephone.

   "Get away from that phone!", demanded the film-star.  "You can't say
that!"

   "Why not?", I asked.  "It's true, isn't it?"

   "They'll break me!  They mustn't know I've been here!"

   "Then why, Miss Ford, did you come here in a flashy chauffeur-driven
limousine?  Why have you been shouting at the top of your voice since you
arrived?  Not exactly discreet, I'd have said." I raised my voice slightly.
"I'm getting rather bored with this.  If you don't leave NOW, we'll call
the press." I gestured again at the open door.

   "All right, I'm going.  But when Geoff hears what you've done, there's
going to be trouble." She swept out, ignoring Jill again.  I closed the
door behind her.

   "Whew!", said Jill.  "Sorry about that, but I didn't know."

   "_That's_ a side of her personality that never makes it on to the silver
screen," I grinned.  "Pity about the money, but there's no way that I could
manage an erection with that harpy screeching at me."

   We sat down with a coffee, and I thought about going back to work.  The
curse of Monday mornings, I thought.  Nothing ever goes as planned.

   A few minutes later, the telephone rang again.  Jill answered it,
listened for a while, then put her hand over the mouthpiece.

   "It's Shelley Ford, Jack.  I think she's trying to apologise, but she's
not very good at it.  Keeps forgetting herself and shouting."

   I took the phone out of Jill's hand, and put it back on the rest.  Then
unplugged it at the wall.  A few seconds later the upstairs extensions
started ringing, but they were faint enough not to bother us, so we ignored
them.  Eventually, they stopped.  She'd obviously given up.

   Wrong!  I'd only just plugged the main handset back in, when it rang
again.  Against my better judgement, I answered it.

   "Mr Harper - Jack - I'm sorry for my outburst." A vibrant, sexy voice,
in the low contralto register.  It pushed buttons, and I found myself
thinking of her screen image rather than the ranting virago I'd pushed out
of the door.

   I managed to resist.  "Miss Ford, I don't know why you keep telephoning
me like this.  I've already made it quite clear that I'm not interested. 
Why can't you take no for an answer?"

   "I'll make it worth your while.  I'm desperate.  Please - if you only
knew!"

   "I'm sorry, but no.  I'm sure you could find someone else just as
qualified.  If he's one of your fans, you'd go straight to the head of the
queue, and he'd probably do it for nothing.  Why me?"

   "You were recommended.  Guaranteed discreet, I'm told.  And now I don't
have time to find anyone else.  I was also led to believe that _you_ were a
fan of mine."

   "Was, Miss Ford, was.  Not any more, after your disgraceful exhibition
earlier.  Until then, I was looking forward to meeting you."

   "Look, will you let me come in?  I'm parked up outside, and I promise to
behave myself."

   I looked at Jill, who had been sharing the earpiece with me.  She
shrugged, leaving the decision to me.

   "Very well, you can come in.  My wife and I will listen to your story,
but I have to tell you that you will have to convince _both_ of us to help
you.  I'm frequently told that I let my gonads get the better of my
judgement, so her wise head will help keep me straight."

   I put the phone down, and we headed to the door.

   "Why did you say that, love?", asked Jill.

   "Because last time she treated you like a piece of furniture.  I'm proud
of you, and I won't see you ignored.  If she has to convince you, she might
be just a little bit more pleasant.  But just in case she isn't, start
looking up phone numbers for a few newspaper offices.  Ok?"

   "I think I'm falling in love with you all over again, my wonderful
semi-husband."

   "Again?  And what about Frank?"

   "Him too.  Don't worry - Sue and I can keep things straightened out. 
Now, let's see to our visitor."

   She opened the door, and Shelley came back in, playing a different role
this time.  I deliberately forced myself to see it this way, otherwise I'd
be bedazzled by her all over again.  This time, she was playing 'scared
little innocent'.  I tried to think which movie she'd played this character
in, and came up with a couple.  We sat her down, and sat side by side,
facing her.

   "Mrs Harper ...," she began.

   "Jill Bryan," corrected Jill.

   "I'm sorry, Jill.  I just assumed ..."

   "Don't worry about it.  You've been married - what - three times now,
but you've always been 'Shelley Ford', haven't you?  A wife doesn't have to
take her husband's name."

   "No, I suppose not.  Anyway, Jill, from what your husband said, I think
I owe you an apology as well.  And come to think of it, I did treat you
badly."

   "No you didn't," said Jill.  "You just ignored me completely.  Though
that can be quite a bit worse.  It upset Jack, anyway."

   "I'm sorry, then.  I was just a little overwrought.  It's been quite a
strain lately."

   "You were drunk," I cut in, sharply.  "I presume you still are, though
you're hiding it quite well."

   "Honestly, no, I'm not.  Sure, I had a small one before I started out -
Dutch courage, I suppose.  But it was mostly jet-lag."

   "Ok.  We'll pass on that one.  Now, what can I get you to drink.  And I
don't mean alcohol."

   She asked for plain tonic water, which I provided.  Jill and I had
orange juice.

   "Now, Miss Ford.  What do you think I can do for you?  Remember that the
old contract is dead - you killed it by turning up nearly two hours late,
then playing the prima donna."

   "You know what I want.  I need a cure, urgently!"

   "I really can't see why," I said.  "At the labs, we're working on a
permanent cure, and hope to have it available in a few months.  Meanwhile,
I can't see you being short of a few volunteers to help you out."

   "And surely you're no nervous virgin," chimed in Jill.  "I don't believe
much of what I read in the papers, but I can't believe you have any moral
objections to being fucked twice a day."

   Shelley coloured, shaken out of her 'innocent' pose by Jill's strong
language.

   "Uh, no.  You're right.  I've had plenty of men.  In fact, I didn't even
know I was infected until I had a checkup a week ago.  Infected both ways -
the doc says it must have happened at least three weeks ago."

   "So," said Jill, "you've been fucked front and back every day, keeping
the red-hot ants away without even realising it.  So why not just carry
on?"

   "I made the mistake of telling some people," she said.  "I'm about to go
on a location shoot, up in the Rockies, miles from anywhere.  A small crew
- director, two cameramen, two sound, an engineer, and a few female gofers.
Scheduled to take a week.  So, I hired myself a couple of boys to come with
me, to make sure I was all right."

   "Sounds fine so far," said Jill.  "So where's the problem."

   "Hollywood can be a pretty bad place," she said.  "A lot of unpleasant
people."

   We already knew that.  We were looking at one of them.  "So?", I said.

   "People do _gossip_ so!  I like to know what they're saying about me, so
I got a good friend of mine, a private detective, to bug my house a while
back.  When people are there, for a meeting or a party, I make sure to
leave them alone for a while.  Then I play back the tapes later."

   "And you heard something?  About your location trip?"

   "Yes, I did.  The director called me to a meeting with him and the crew.
I'd been to a party, and didn't show up.  So they all turned up on my
doorstep to have the meeting at my place!  Well, I was only just out of
bed, so I had to sort myself out and left them to it for a while.  They
mean to break me!  I have it all on tape!"

   "What's the plan?", asked Jill.  We were both kind of interested by
then.

   "It turns out that one of the guys I've hired is useless to me - he's
had a vasectomy.  They're going to pay the other off - get him to say he'd
broken his leg or something, but he has a friend who'll oblige.  The
'friend' being another one who's had the snip."

   "So, you'll have to make out with one of the crew," I said.  "Doesn't
sound too hard, surely."

   "They're going to refuse!  They'll make me do anything they want!", she
wailed.  "And they'll film the whole thing, and show it all over town! 
They hate me!"

   "And why do they hate you so much, Miss Ford," I asked, knowing the
answer already.

   "I don't know!  Maybe I've been a little sharp with them sometimes ..."
She broke down, weeping.  Real tears, I noticed.  Was she _that_ good an
actress?

   "If the way you treated us was anything to go by," said Jill, "you
probably have enemies all over Tinseltown."

   "I know!  I just don't know why I do it ...  I'm working on it with my
therapist."

   I had to smile at that.  Therapy - the American fad which seemed to be
helping no-one but the therapists.  Shelley had gone back into floods of
tears, huddled in on herself.  Jill sent me into the kitchen with a quick
eye-flick.  I went.  Crying women have never been my strong point.

   Ten minutes later, she called me back.  Shelley was sitting up dry-eyed,
but with badly-streaked makeup.

   "We've come to an agreement, love," said Jill.  "If it's all right by
you, that is."

   "Whatever you say.  This is one situation where I can't judge the rights
and wrongs."

   "Firstly," said Jill, "do you believe her story?  I have to say that I
do."

   "Yes, I think I do.  But there is a weak spot.  Can't she just refuse to
go on the shoot?"

   "I thought of that as well," said Jill.  "And no, she can't.  She's
turned down too much work lately.  Her agent has told her, in very clear
terms, that this is her last chance.  If she doesn't turn out for the
shoot, she's history.  "

   "Well, I can't think of any other reason why a girl with so many willing
volunteers and no morals to speak of would need curing so urgently.  Ok.  I
believe her."

   "Good.  Now, I think we can both agree that she's a nasty piece of work,
who probably deserves a sharp lesson."

   "Amen to that," I said.

   "But the lesson those guys have planned - it's too sharp.  It'll destroy
her.  And when they get around to thinking about what they've done, it'll
probably destroy them too."

   "Agreed."

   "So, we'll help her out.  She'll go back to being the ultimate bitch, of
course, but someone, somewhere, will take her down.  Nobody's fireproof for
ever."

   I sat and pondered for a bit.  Not that I was in any doubt at all - my
gonads had been screaming 'Yes, Yes, YES' at me ever since Shelley came
into the house.  But I felt that I shouldn't look too eager.  I was sure
that Jill had negotiated a new fee that would be a small punishment in
itself.

   She had.  Twenty thousand, cash up front.  I'd see to her one way right
now, then she'd come back later tonight for the second part of the cure.

   I took her to the bedroom.  Jill had decided to stay downstairs.

   "Right," I said, suddenly a little nervous.  "How do you want this?"

   "Which way's easiest for you to climax?", asked Shelley.

   "Well, it's whichever way the girl likes best.  Usually the cunt, though
I have met one who seemed to enjoy it the other way."

   She eyed the bulge in my trousers.  "I'm one of the normal sort.  I know
that a lot of men prefer the ass, so I give them what they want.  But if
it's for me, just for my enjoyment, I'll take it in the cunt every time. 
So, you'd better take me up the ass for this session.  You seem to be ready
for quick action, and later you might not be.  All right?"

   I agreed.  The whole thing was very businesslike - she slipped off her
pants and lay face down on the bed; I took off my trousers, applied the KY
and it was over in a couple of minutes.  She dressed and left hurriedly,
promising to be back later.

   "Well," said Jill after our guest had left, "that was interesting, to
say the least!  And twenty thousand pounds!  At this rate, this house will
be paid for in a month."

   I smiled.  "And this morning, I was ready to give her a discount!  Not
that I knew her then, of course.  Just shows how wrong you can be about
people."

   "And what about tonight's session, love?  Another quickie, or would you
prefer something to remember?"

   "I'm not sure.  She's a bitch - 'the ultimate bitch' you called her -
but I suspect she's had enough practice to be _really_ good in bed.  Maybe
I can learn a few things that'll help all of us."

   "And maybe you just want to enjoy yourself!  I know your sort, mister!
Ok, this is what you have to do.  You've got one 'workmate' fuck lined up
for today, right?"

   "It's been pencilled in, yes.  But I wasn't sure whether Shelley would
want it both ways in one session, so I left it open."

   "Right, then.  You go off to work, say you've already done it twice with
your anonymous cash customer, so you'll be a bit late reviving.  Ask the
candidate to get to the Passion Palace at about six o'clock this evening.
Then, when Shelley turns up at seven, she's really going to have to work
you over.  You like?"

   "I like.  I like a _lot_.  Thanks, Jill, that sounds perfect."

   I felt a slight twinge of conscience, but only a slight one.  Shelley
was a bitch, and deserved a bad turn.  Anyway, my gonads were quite clear
on the matter.  The girl stood #1 on the world list of cap-turners, and I
was slated for a long session with her.  As long as I could hold out!

   Everything went to plan.  I spent the day in the laboratory, chasing
down those pesky enzymes, then went home for a meal.  Jill had filled the
others in on the day's events, and they were all looking forward to the
evening.  I went back, to the 'Passion Palace', and had my balls drained by
a pleasant, motherly typist named Angie.

   By seven o'clock, I was sitting with my family enjoying a little light
banter.  Shelley arrived, eager to get on with things.  I led her upstairs
and sat down on the bed.

   "Uh, Miss Ford," I said, "I think I'm going to need some help with this
one."

   She looked me up and down.  "Can't get it up, hey?"

   "Well, I think I can manage an erection without too much trouble, but I
don't know how long it'll take me to climax."

   "Listen, honey, I'm an expert.  If they ever get tired of seeing me
making faces on the screen, I've got a great career waiting between my
legs! Just leave it to me."

   We stripped, and climbed on to the bed.  I looked her up and down,
admiring the view.  I still figured that Hilary (and possibly Jackie) had
the best body I'd ever had the pleasure of looking at, but this girl ran
them close.  And, of course, she knew how to use it.

   "Like what you're seeing, sweetie?  It's all real - no surgery, no
silicone."

   And all mine.  For a couple of hours, at least.  I grinned at the
prospect.

   A couple of hours later, I wasn't quite so sure.  I felt as if I'd been
on some sort of sexual assault course.  She'd used hands, feet and mouth on
every part of my body; rubbed her beautifully-shaven cunt all over me, and
climaxed dozens of times herself.  She'd taken me into her cunt, her ass,
and right down her throat, and I still wasn't getting anywhere.  I didn't
need to hold back - it just wasn't happening for me.

   "Trouble, honey?", she panted.  She was built like an athlete, but was
dripping with sweat.  So was I, come to that.

   "It's just not working, I'm afraid."

   "Any suggestions?"

   "Well, perhaps you're making too much of a performance of it?"

   "That's what I do, you clown!  Perform!" She sounded bitter.

   "And it shows, I'm afraid.  Would it be possible to knock off the acting
for a while, and just be yourself?"

   "I ...  I don't know.  I don't know if there's a 'myself' still in here
any more."

   "Let's try a fantasy, then," I said.  "To start with, what's your real
name, not your screen name."

   "Mary.  Mary Ryan."

   "Ok, Mary.  You're Mary Ryan, ordinary home-town gal.  You've made out
with a couple of guys, but you aren't very experienced.  This Englishman,
named Jack, comes into town, and suddenly you're hot for him.  And he's hot
for you.  Neither of you really know what to do, but you're both willing to
learn.  Got the scenario?"

   "Uh - yes.  Yes!  Let's try it."

   We started again, fully dressed.  Sat on a couch and necked a little.  I
fumbled at her bra-fastenings; she shyly prodded the mound in my trousers.
One thing led to another, and we were naked on the bed.

   "Are you sure this is what you want, Mary?"

   "Oh, yes, Jack, yes please!  I'll be good, I promise." That
little-girl-lost voice that she did so well.

   I climbed on to her glorious body, and fumbled an entry.  Gently pushed
my dick half-way in.  "Still ok, Mary?  I can stop if you want."

   "No, Jack.  I want you - oh, how I want you!"

   I pushed all the way home, and thrust my way to a very satisfactory
climax.  As I finished, I noticed that tears were leaking out of her closed
eyes.

   "You really get into a part, don't you, Shelley?"

   "Please, Jack.  Call me Mary.  And let's meet up again sometime, one
day."

   "Sure, if that's what you want, Mary.  But why?"

   "Because every hour of every day, I meet guys who want to fuck Shelley
Ford.  This is the first time since I was seventeen that anyone's wanted to
make out with Mary Ryan!  You're real, Jack, and I don't meet many real
people."

   Eventually, we went downstairs.  To my surprise, Shelley didn't want to
leave right away.  She asked to stay for a couple of drinks and a chat.

   "My plane doesn't leave until one in the morning, and my people will
pack all my stuff and get it to the airport.  All I have to do is turn up
on time.  Can I visit with you folks for a while?  Until midnight, say?"

   Jill and Sue raised their eyebrows.  I gathered that I was in for a bit
of a grilling, perhaps even a roasting, from my wives later.

   In fact, we had a good time that night.  Shelley was great company,
sparkling like the star she was.  In no time, she had Frank and the girls
completely captivated.  Eventually, she left.  I walked her out to her car,
and kissed her gently.

   "Goodnight, Mary," I whispered in her ear.  "Good luck."

   "Goodnight, Jack.  And thanks for everything."

   She climbed into her limo, and was whisked away.  I stood looking down
the road for quite a while before I went back inside.

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 13

   Most of the 'paying guests' were much more reasonable than Shelley had
been.  Typically, for women, they (a) wanted to make sure that we would be
totally discreet, never mentioning that they'd been here, and (b) wanted
full details about my other 'clients'.  At least one of them was an
undercover journalist - I found that out when her recorder dropped out of
her bag.

   I talked it over with my family, and we decided that if the tabloid
newspapers wanted to pay me a thousand pounds a fuck for no information at
all, we were more than willing to take it.

   The laboratory work was going well.  We had identified the difference
between us 'specials' and other men.  It lay in the acrosome - the little
chunk at the head of the sperm, which contains enzymes to digest their way
through the egg cell wall.  Our enzymes turned out to be a slightly
different mix from everybody else's.  And this was the crucial factor. 
Most men's acrosome enzymes, when absorbed by the purple nodules, 'stunned'
them for a while, knocking out the mechanisms which produced the irritants.
With our slightly-different enzymes, the effect was permanent - a 'kill',
rather than a 'stun'.

   Our group had won that part of the scientific race, but the next part
could be much harder.  We had to do some very delicate gene-splicing to try
to produce a bacterium which would produce the right mix of enzymes in
large enough quantities.  Whoever reached this stage first would be able to
breed the bacteria by the million, and mass-produce a cure.

   The really important cures, however, I kept quiet about.  Sue and Jill
had gone back for their repeated smear tests, which had turned out to be
negative.  No abnormal cells!  The specialist was puzzled, but decided that
it was probably the earlier test which had been wrong.  "We're getting a
lot of those lately," he said.  "I'll have to give our lab people a bit of
a shake-up.  It's not right, scaring people like that.  But we'll have to
have you in again in three months, for another checkup."

   The girls assured him that they hadn't been scared, not one bit.  But
scared or not, we celebrated big-time that night!  We told Frank, and he
was indignant that we'd kept it from him at first, but admitted that he was
glad he'd been spared the worry.  The girls still had their final checkup
hurdle to get over, but they weren't too worried about it.

   Meanwhile, I was still in demand for other purposes.  It was a busy,
interesting life, spoiled only by the fact that I could only make love to
my wives on Sundays.  I'd be quite glad, I thought, when it was all over,
and I could go back to being husband and scientist, rather than
scientist/stud.

   A few weeks into the routine, and it was becoming a way of life.  After
a couple of months, it could be downright dull at times.  Who'd have
believed it?  That unlimited sex could become dull, dull, DULL.  By now, of
course, most women were quite practised at energetic sex, and willing to
show off their skills.  Now and again, I learned something new, and
practised it with Sue and Jill when I could.

   And there were always a few non-standard ones, where it was the
situation rather than the sex which was interesting.

   "Who have you lined up for me this week, Sue?"

   "An unusual one tomorrow.  A Mrs Smith - though that's probably an
alias. It was a man who arranged it.  Presumably her husband or boyfriend.
She wants to come here at 7pm, and stay until you've managed a double.  She
wants the complete cure in one session.  And she expects to find just you
in the house - we're to clear out."

   "She doesn't want to go away and come back later?"

   "No.  I think she's worried about being recognised, or being followed,
and figures that a single here-and-back journey will be safer than two."

   "You've explained that we can't be sure how long the second will take?"

   "I have.  But that's the way she wants it.  Doesn't want to socialise,
though.  Her husband says she'll bring a book and some paperwork, and wait
it out for as long as necessary."

   The following morning, I got my 'charity fuck' out of the way early, to
be reasonably fresh for the cash customer that evening.  Then did my day's
work, and headed home, pleasantly intrigued by the mystery client.

   Just before seven, the telephone rang.

   "Mrs Smith will be at the door in five minutes," a male voice said. 
"Please be ready to let her in immediately."

   Five minutes later, I was standing by the door as a car pulled into the
drive.  Two people emerged and came straight in.  The car swiftly pulled
away and disappeared down the road.  I closed the door and looked at my
visitors.  A tall, fit-looking male, with 'bodyguard' stamped all over him.
He was carrying a small suitcase, which he put down as soon as he'd entered
the room.  To keep his hands free, I figured.  I had to assume that the
other was a woman, or there would have been no point in any of this.  It
certainly couldn't be verified, as she was wearing an arab-style yashmak -
nothing visible but her eyes, and even those were in shadow.

   "Good evening, Mrs Smith," I said.  "And Mr Smith?"

   The man smiled.  "No - I'm not the lady's husband.  Just a friend,
helping to look after her."

   In fact, I thought I recognised him.  He hadn't given a name the last
time we met, either.  He'd been part of a party of visiting VIPs a few
months ago, though clearly not a VIP or a scientist himself.  He'd been
watching the people, not the demonstrations.  I'd put him down as police,
probably part of their 'protection unit', who acted as bodyguard to VIPs.
So, we had a VIP here, did we?  With official approval, no less - Special
Branch officers only worked under official orders.

   "Well, sit down, both of you.  Drinks?"

   He asked for mineral water for the lady, tea for himself.  I organised
both, then the problems started.  He insisted that she remain masked
throughout the whole thing.  She still hadn't spoken for herself.

   I protested at this.  "Look - I'm discreet.  I won't tell anyone.  I've
had offers for my story - very big offers - and turned them all down.  As
I'm sure you've found out for yourself.  And I'll continue to do so."

   "I'm sorry, sir," said the bodyguard.  "Those are the terms, and you
must work to them."

   "Well, I'm feeling ready now," I replied.  "I can probably manage this
one perfectly well.  But two in an evening - well, I'm sure you know how it
is.  I need stimulation.  And there's nothing stimulating about a woman in
a yashmak.  That's why muslim women wear them, after all - to stop men
having impure thoughts.  And impure thoughts is precisely what I'm trying
to achieve."

   The bodyguard looked at the lady, in some embarrassment.  Clearly, he
was trying to get some messages from those hooded eyes.

   "Right then, sir.  Let's take it one step at a time.  Give my friend
here the half of the cure that you can manage now, and we'll see how it
goes later."

   The three of us went upstairs, the guard carrying his suitcase.  For a
moment, I thought he was going to stay in the room with us, but he seemed
to be just checking it over.

   "I can assure you that there's no recording equipment in here," I
snapped.  "And the only weapon is the gun that you're carrying."

   He blinked in surprise.  Well, at least I'd 'unmasked' one of them. 
"That's fine, sir.  I had to check.  Now, I'll wait outside the door.  I
must ask you to turn the lights off before beginning, and keep them that
way until the lady stands up."

   He started to leave; she pulled on his arm and whispered urgently into
his ear.

   "Oh, yes.  I'd forgotten.  The lady asks that you administer the first
cure ...  um ...anally.  She understands that the second might well take
longer, and would prefer that this part of the cure be over with as quickly
as possible."

   He left, closing the door behind him.  My mystery client laid face-down
on the bed.

   "Please get up again, miss," I said.  "While your friend was giving
orders, he didn't let me do any talking.  Now, I understand that you want
complete anonymity, and I'll try to give it to you.  I'm not sure how well
it's going to work out, but I'll try.  However, there are a few things that
you'd both be better off knowing now."

   I called the policeman back into the room.

   "When I'm finished," I said, "I'll walk out of the door, and across to
the bathroom.  The lady might prefer this one." I demonstrated the
concealed doorway that led to the en-suite bathroom, and was rewarded with
a rueful grin on the bodyguard's face.  He hadn't thought to check for
extra doors!

   "When she's used the bathroom, there is another door leading from it to
a study, with a desk and a couple of comfortable chairs.  I suggest that
you check out both rooms now, noting that the study door is locked, with
the key on the inside."

   He checked both rooms, more thoroughly than the situation really
required.  He'd been caught out once, and didn't want it to happen again.
He carried the suitcase through to the study, leaving it on the desk. 
Presumably, it contained the 'paperwork' that she'd be looking at while
waiting for me to recover.

   "So," I continued.  "After I've cleaned up, I'll go downstairs.  You and
the lady can go into the study, for as much privacy as you want.  If you
need anything, use the telephone.  Any questions?"

   The guard asked for a bottle of mineral water and some tea-making
equipment to be put in the study.  On my own initiative, I added some
biscuits.  Then, we took our positions again.  The bodyguard, standing
outside the door.  My 'client', face-down on the bed.  Me, standing beside
the bed with a tube of KY at the ready.

   I turned out the lights, and dropped my trousers.  The strangeness of
the situation had given me a pretty good hard-on, and I was confident that
I'd be able to perform well.  Finding the small woman on the very big bed
in the dark proved more awkward than I'd thought - I'd become a little
turned-around while getting out of my trousers.  Eventually, I found her,
and placed my hand on her small, rounded rump.  I heard a sharp intake of
breath, but she made no move.  I lifted the hem of her garment, and raised
it to the waist.  Underneath, she was naked.  A single touch on her inner
thigh was sufficient signal to tell her to spread her legs apart; I gently
applied the jelly to her anus, pushing first one, then two, fingers inside
to make sure she was well lubricated within.  A second application, to my
cock, and I was ready.  I mounted her, and took aim.  She was well
lubricated, sure enough, but very tight.  Her anal sphincter fought against
the intruder, and nearly pushed me back out.

   "You have to relax," I told her.  "If you don't, it will hurt.  Or
you'll push me right out, and the whole thing will have been useless.  Do
you want to stop?"

   She shook her head, violently.  I could tell that she was trying to
relax, and I tried to help out with an internal massage with a couple of
fingers.  She was drying out rapidly, so I automatically put a finger into
her cunt, to draw off some juices for extra ass-lubrication.  She
shuddered, and then lay still.

   "Sorry, lady," I said.  "This is as weird for me as it is for you!"

   I got back to work.  She was now much more relaxed, and I managed entry
with no further problems.  The situation had turned me on, much more than
I'd realised, and I climaxed after no more than a half-dozen thrusts.

   I climbed off the bed, and groped for my trousers in the dark.  I'd just
managed to put them back on, and was still adjusting them, when she stood
up.  I turned on the light and left the room.

   Downstairs, I watched some TV, and 'waited for something to come up'. 
It didn't.  I rang Sue, who was having a night in a hotel with Jill and
Frank.  I told her my problem, and suggested that she 'talk dirty' to me.
She did, but I can't say it really helped.

   At midnight, the telephone rang.  "Are you going to be much longer?" The
bodyguard again.

   "I don't know," I said.  "One thing, though.  It's not going to be a
'quickie', like before.  I'm feeling very alone, and very unstimulated.  I
did manage a bit of an erection a while ago, but it melted away.  Is your
lady willing to try to stimulate me a little?"

   The message was relayed; I could hear a low female voice in the
background.

   "She says to come up and try now.  She's not sure what she'll be able to
manage, but she'll do her best."

   I headed up the stairs, feeling very unsure of myself.  For weeks now -
a couple of months, in fact - my dick had been performing beautifully,
confident of its star status.  Tonight, though, it wasn't confident at all.
The new sexuality had passed this woman by completely - she was obviously
hating every moment of what was happening.

   The three of us met in the bedroom.  I'd undressed in my bathroom, and
came in wearing only a robe.

   "You understand, miss, that I'm going to need a lot more stimulation
than I had last time?" She nodded.

   "Well, what I'm going to ask is that you undress completely.  It'll be
in the dark, so you'll still be anonymous.  And if it's successful, I'll
get out of bed, put on my bathrobe and leave.  I'll warn you before I put
on the light, and you can hide under the covers.  Then, I close the door,
you retrieve your yashmak, use the bathroom if you need to, and then leave.
Right?"

   She whispered in her bodyguard's ear.

   "Are you quite, quite sure that you both need to be naked," he asked.

   "Even then, I'm not sure how well things are going to go," I replied. 
"Nobody warned me that I'd face a situation where I couldn't see my
partner, or even talk to her.  Sex should be _friendly_, and this isn't. 
Far from it!  I only have one other suggestion."

   "Go ahead."

   "If my wife were here, I could do the warming-up on her.  Then, when I
felt myself beginning to climax, I would withdraw, move over, and insert.
Job done.  It would certainly work, though there are a couple of problems
with it."

   "There are," he growled.

   "First, you've stipulated that I should be the only one to meet your
friend.  I'm not sure why, since I haven't actually 'met' her myself.  But
anyway, that stipulation would have to go.  And second, your friend would
have to be lying on the bed in readiness, while my wife and I made love
beside her.  Now, it's a very big bed, so there would be plenty of distance
between us, but she might still find it distasteful."

   More whispering.  "She would find it very distasteful indeed."

   "Actually, sir, I meant my wife.  She would take a _lot_ of convincing
that it was necessary."

   He looked startled, then grinned at the trap I'd led them both into. 
They went through to the study for a conference, returning a couple of
minutes later.

   "Very well," he said.  "The lady agrees to your terms.  If you leave
now, she will undress and get into the bed.  You come in, close the door,
turn off the lights and get in beside her.  I just hope it works."

   "So do I," I said.  "I'm going to need some sleep tonight."

   The first stage went well.  I came into the room, and looked at the
small lump huddling under the duvet.  The lights went out, the bathrobe
went thataway, and I was in the bed, searching for some flesh.  I found it,
and rolled the covers back.  A very small woman, quite thin and rather more
bony than I liked.  I tried for a quick feel, and she lay there like an
inflatable doll.

   "This won't do," I said.  "I'm sorry, but I have to have some reaction
from you.  It's a hangup I've got.  It doesn't feel right unless my
partner's getting some enjoyment out of it as well."

   She tried.  She really did.  Writhing in mock-ecstasy under my probing
hands, even reaching out and massaging my cock.  But it was fake, all the
way through.  Some life did return to the trusty sword, and I managed
penetration, but no amount of thrusting, either hard or gentle, brought
things any nearer to completion.

   I sighed, and rolled off her.

   "I'm sorry.  I think I'm going to have to give up.  It just isn't
working."

   "You mustn't!", came a whisper from beside me.

   "I have to.  Unless ..."

   "Unless what?"

   "Talk to me.  Let's be friends - it's always easier with friends.  If
you can bring yourself to do it, let's turn the light back on.  I won't
take photographs.  I won't write anything down, and I will never, _never_
tell anyone who you are.  You've had me checked out - your 'friend' outside
is Special Branch, isn't he.  So, you know you can trust me.  What I'm
asking you to do is to trust me all the way.  Alternatively, you can go
elsewhere - I'm not exactly unique - or wait for a more formal cure.  You
shouldn't have to wait too long for that, since there's quite a race to
find it.  Lots of people working on it, and I'm one of them.  If you're as
important as you seem to be, you can probably take an experimental cure in
a couple of weeks."

   The whisper came again.  "I _can't_ wait.  My husband is leaving the
country tomorrow.  He can't _not_ go.  And I have my own work.  I have to
stay.  I can't take a lover.  It might become public, but that's only part
of it.  I have difficulties with the morality of it as well.  In any case,
the danger of pregnancy would be too great.  I'm a Catholic - I like to
think I'm a good one.  So contraception is forbidden.  I'm not young, and
this is the safest part of my cycle.  I have discussed this with my priest,
and he agrees that this is the only option I have left.  So, I'll have to
trust you." She paused, thinking.  "Yes.  I trust you.  Switch the light
on, please!"

   I did so, and recognised her immediately.  Cherie Blair, the wife of the
Prime Minister.  As she had said, not young - mid 40s, as far as I
recalled. Barrister, part-time judge and mother of four children.  In spite
of - or maybe because of - her busy life, she looked pretty good for her
age.

   The guard had seen the light go on, and knocked urgently on the door.

   "Go _away_, James," she called.  Now she'd found her voice, she seemed
quite happy to use it.

   We talked for a while, laying next to each other, and mainly looking
into each other's eyes.  Gradually, she became more comfortable with the
situation, and we started a little physical contact.  She asked me a lot of
questions about my family - she'd obviously had a full report on us, and
our four-way marriage.  She said nothing about her husband or family, or
any personal detail at all.  A politician's wife to the end.

   After about ten minutes of talking, I felt up to trying again at the
task in hand.  She welcomed me, and even seemed to manage an orgasm.  Soon
after that, I climaxed myself.  Not a monstrous, crashing orgasm like the
ones I usually had with my wives, but perfectly satisfactory for all that.
Her wide mouth curled up slightly at the corners, and I was glad I hadn't
sent her away.

   I left her to dress in privacy, and was waiting when the two of them
came downstairs about ten minutes later.  She was wearing a smart business
suit, and looked much more like the lady I'd frequently seen on the TV
news. Her yashmak was draped over her arm, presumably to be worn during the
exit.

   To my surprise, she didn't want to leave straight away.

   "I know you told me you needed sleep," she said, "but could we talk for
a while?  There's a lot you could tell me."

   "If you want, certainly," I replied.  "I don't need sleep quite that
badly - I can manage for another couple of hours, I expect."

   "It's about your wife's work.  I've been reading a lot about it, and it
intrigues me."

   We discussed Sue's research in some detail.  She was especially
interested in the theory that it was female independence and male
frustration that had caused such a big upsurge in violent crime in the past
generation.

   "She thinks it may be a major cause of drug addiction, too," I added. 
"If the new sexual freedom continues, the world might be a happier and a
safer place to live in."

   "She may be right," said Mrs Blair.  "I've been looking at some of the
latest statistics - they aren't on general release yet, but my husband has
an inside track with the Home Office." She smiled, which made a tremendous
improvement to an already quite pleasant face.  "Rapes are down to
virtually nothing, of course - no surprise there.  But most other crimes,
across the board, are right down as well.  The only one which shows an
increase is sexual abuse of young girls."

   "And that only shows up because it's easier to detect now," I said.

   "Exactly!  It's not easy for a man to hide the fact that his
nine-year-old daughter, or niece, or stepdaughter, isn't a virgin when she
suddenly starts screaming in class.  And once the abuse is out in the open,
it's usually quite easy to get to the culprit."

   "In fact," I pointed out, "the real rate of abuse has probably gone
right down."

   "I'm sure it has," she said.  "Sexual abuse of minors is a 'crime of
opportunity'.  A man will do it only if he thinks he can get away with it.
And now he knows he can't."

   We talked over some of Sue's other findings.

   "One thing which really surprised me," I said, "is the responsible way
the young men have handled themselves.  I'd have thought that they would
have demanded, well, a price for keeping the girls pain-free."

   "Sex slavery?", she queried.

   "Yes.  That sort of thing.  I'm a man, and I know what urges are buried
in me.  I don't let them out, but they're there all right!"

   "Exactly!  You don't let them out.  Why not?"

   "I haven't really thought about it.  I suppose, though, that I don't
like the thought of hurting someone.  Of being hated."

   "And are you so different from other men?"

   "I don't know.  I - uh - I have read some pretty violent literature. 
There are definitely some men out there, thinking things like that."

   She chuckled.  "I've read some of it too!  You'd be surprised at some of
the things a barrister has to read when preparing for a case.  It's mostly
fantasy - men like to read it, and write it as well, but there's no way
they'd actually do it in real life.  Of course, there are exceptions.  I've
read some real-life case notes that would put most of your fantasy stuff in
the shade.  They're not that common, though.  A few twisted individuals,
who we identify and put away where we can."

   "I'm relieved," I admitted.  "My current situation means that I get a
lot of women asking for help, far more than I can manage.  And I have to
say that I get a certain buzz when one pleads with me, offering to let me
do anything, _anything_, I want to her.  I've been worried that one day I
might take one up on the offer."

   "I suspect that you might well do just that one day, out of curiosity.
But I'm pretty sure that you'd find that instead of pleasing yourself,
you'd finish up pleasing her.  You can't help yourself, Jack.  You're a
helper, not a slaveholder.  And so are the vast majority of men, when the
chips are down."

   We talked on for another half-hour, with the faithful James putting in
the odd word, but mainly staying in the background or fetching drinks. 
Eventually, she got up to leave, and started putting her yashmak on.

   "The one you really need to speak to is Sue," I said.  "I'll ask her to
contact you, if you like."

   She smiled.  "No, thank you.  There would certainly be some questions
asked about how you came to know me.  And that must stay a secret between
the three of us.  Agreed?"

   "Of course.  Not a word."

   "Then goodbye, Dr Harper.  Jack.  And thank you, very much."

   Cherie Blair: mid-40's, mother of four children, senior lawyer, married
to a top politician who was also a lawyer.  Nevertheless, in spite of all
those handicaps, still a bit of a cap-turner!

   ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 14

   Finally, the laboratory work was completed.  It had taken six months of
frantic work, from my first look at the strange purple nodules in Sue's
ass, to get to the situation where we could begin to mass-produce a cure.
Everybody said we'd achieved miracles, and most of the team agreed.  And if
I didn't join in the general rejoicing and back-slapping, I had my reasons.
I was going to lose my 'special' status, along with my eighteen random
fucks per week.  Not to mention the money I'd made.  It had been running at
nearly twenty thousand pounds per week - the girls had been swamped by the
demand, and responded by putting the price up to whatever the traffic would
bear; we'd banked over a quarter of a million.  And some of the 'celebrity'
fucks had been surprisingly good fun.

   The 'cure' we had come up with was interesting.  The cells responded to
the particular enzyme mix, but the enzymes still had to actually get inside
them.  So, our solution was to flood the cavity with the enzymes, then add
live sperm.  In other words, another fuck!  The sperm would go about their
work, puncturing their way through the cell walls, and taking enough of the
enzyme mix through to effect a 'cure'.  Not a real cure, of course.  The
cells were still there, and still producing their stew of quasi-hormones.
But the painful ones would be gone for good.  Other research groups were
still trying to find a way to actually kill off the cells, but so far had
found nothing which didn't damage the surrounding tissue.

   Men all over the world were gloomily talking about their wives bringing
home their 'final fuck' prescription.  Still, many of them were secretly
glad to be off the treadmill.  They'd found that unlimited sex can be a
chore as well as a pleasure.  Plus, the jealous types could leave their
wives at home without worrying that she was suddenly going to have to rape
someone.

   It looked as if everything was settling down, with people going back to
somewhere near normal.  Then my notebook computer was stolen.

   I had thought I was safe.  They were looking for my 'little black book'
of course, containing names of all the famous women I'd 'cured'.  They'd be
disappointed in that.  As I had promised the ladies, I'd never kept a
record, except in my head.  All they would find on my hard drive would be
the official story, all the science behind the discoveries.

   I didn't expect them to find the second hard drive, cunningly concealed
under the motherboard, needing both hardware and software switches to
activate it, and pretty hefty encryption on top of that.  They've got some
good hackers working for newspapers these days.

   They found the other experiments.  The ones showing how I had designed
and created the little purple cells, during many long, late nights in my
laboratory, then started their spread.

   Suddenly, I wasn't saviour of the world any more.  I found myself
charged with an incredible 15 million cases of rape, and over a million
paternity suits.  The lawyers were claiming that even though I hadn't
fucked all the women myself, I was responsible in each and every case. 
Leaving the country wasn't possible, either.  There were a thousand million
or so eager litigants-in-waiting, spread across every nation on earth.

   Oops!

   So, I found myself in jail, awaiting trial.  However, the legal system
hit a snag at this point.  There seemed to be no way to find an unbiased
jury, or an unbiased judge, for that matter.  The plague had touched every
family in the land.  Many men saw me as a saint.  Most women, even those
who had admitted enjoying the experience, saw me as a devil.

   The arguments went back and forth for a month.  My solicitor, Mr Sanders
(who appeared not to have a first name) didn't quite know what to do with
it all.

   At one of our 'cell conferences', I asked him to insist on a trial.

   "Or, if that isn't possible," I said, "a pre-trial review of the
evidence.  That'll do."

   "Why?", he asked.

   "Because I need to make a speech."

   "Saying what, precisely?"

   "I'm not sure," I said.  "I haven't written it yet.  But I will.  So,
please try to get me that hearing, will you?"

   Sue visited.  "I've had my final smear test, love.  Still clear!  Looks
as if you did it!"

   "And Jill?", I asked.

   "And Jill.  She's over the moon - I don't think she really believed the
first one.  So, when are you getting out of here?"

   "As soon as I can, love.  I promise you."

   "Well, you've kept a couple of pretty big promises to me this year. 
You've killed off my cancer, and sorted out the fuck plague.  Just like you
said."

   I smiled, ruefully.  "I'm not getting many thanks for the second, I'm
afraid.  It was pretty easy to find the cure - the hard part was creating
it in the first place!"

   "I should be furious with you, love.  But I know you, and I know you had
your reasons.  Even if you won't tell me what they were.  You're not the
mad scientist everyone thinks, are you?"

   "I'm not.  And thanks for the vote of confidence.  I need it right now."

   "It comes from Jill and Frank, too.  We're right behind you, and looking
forward to you getting out.  We've got a marriage to work on, remember? 
You were too busy for us before, and we're all looking forward to a lot of
good years ahead of us."

   Sanders telephoned.

   "Do you know a Miss Bobbie Crichton?"

   "I'm afraid I don't," I replied.

   "Puzzling.  I've received a letter from her.  She's a barrister, and is
asking to be considered for your defence, as she's a friend of the family."

   "Perhaps she's a friend of one of my wives?"

   Sanders spluttered a little at this.  He was of the old school, and
believed that even one wife was usually one too many.

   "Well," he said.  "I've asked around, and she's very well thought of.  I
would think that a woman acting as defender might create a good
impression."

   "I agree.  Perhaps we should meet."

   The following day, Sanders arrived in my cell with a smart-looking
brunette, and quite definitely a cap-turner.  I sighed, thinking of all the
women in the world that I'd now never have a chance with.  She turned out
to be a close friend of Jill's.

   "How close?", I asked.

   "Very close.  Not as close as Sue, of course, but we can talk about most
things."

   "That could be useful to us.  Did she tell you about her little
problem?"

   "Yes, she did.  Poor girl.  Why does it always happen to the nice ones?"

   Bobbie clearly wasn't quite up to date with the news.  We explained
about the cancer diagnosis to Sanders, and her family history.

   "Well, maybe it won't happen to this particular nice one," I said.  "I'd
like you both to read this, and you'll see how it's relevant."

   I handed over a sheaf of papers.

   "This is the statement I propose to make at the pre-trial hearing.  I'd
be grateful if you would both keep it confidential.  Any early publicity
will dilute the impact."

   They read it through carefully, making comments as they did.

   Sanders was first.  "But if you say this, it's a guilty plea!"

   "I know.  If you read on, you might find an extenuating circumstance or
two."

   Bobbie pointed out a phrase.  "Is this true?"

   "I believe so.  You can check up if you like."

   "I certainly need to.  But what about the confidentiality you've just
asked for?"

   "Just ring up and ask.  You don't have to say anything about the rest,
do you?"

   "No, that's true.  But I have to check it.  The thing is, Jack, I won't
let one of my clients go into the box and tell lies that I _know_ are lies.
"

   I smiled.  "You must lose quite a lot of business that way."

   "I do.  But it means that I can take all the lawyer jokes on the chin
and know that they don't mean me!"

   Sanders wasn't happy.  "Look, I'm not sure I can go along with this. 
You're admitting damaging a lot of people, which lays you wide open to all
sorts of private actions as well as the criminal charges."

   "I don't know about that," said Bobbie.  "If this is right, it won't
come to criminal trial at all.  And if Jack's not found guilty by a
criminal court, it makes the civil actions much less likely to succeed."

   "Following a guilty plea?  Of course it will go to criminal trial!"

   "You don't quite understand, Mr Sanders," I said.  "This case is pretty
unusual.  It's been brought purely because of public outrage.  If I can
change their minds, give them a reason they can understand, pressure for a
trial will disappear - and so will most of the private lawsuits.  I'm not
sure if there's any precedent for this, but the phrase 'at the bar of
public opinion' comes to mind."

   "Mob justice?  We know where that leads."

   "Nevertheless, it's the public I'm going to try to appeal to.  If it
works, I'm in the clear.  If it doesn't ...  well, I did it, and I'll stand
by my decision.  It was the right thing to do, and if I have to spend the
rest of my life in jail, at least that'll be a comfort."

   "I agree," Bobbie added.  "It's your best chance.  But I think I can
help you improve the odds a little.  Will you let me take this away and
rewrite it?"

   "Sure.  I'm a scientist, not a writer.  It's that bad, is it?"

   "It gives the facts, which is fine as far as it goes, but there's no
emotion there.  No punch.  Believe me, this isn't the sort of speech that
would work in a courtroom.  Let me see what I can do with it."

   Bobbie was as good as her word.  A couple of days later, she was back
with her revise, and made me read it through out loud.  One word had been
firmly red-pencilled.  The learned judges were about to hear a trial which
was basically all about copulation, but wouldn't allow the word 'fuck' in
court.  She'd decided to call it the 'Irritant Plague'.  We changed a few
things that looked ok on paper but didn't sound right aloud, and tried
again.  And then again.  Finally, I was word-perfect.  Then she started on
the delivery.  When and how to gesture.  How to pause, looking around the
room and making eye contact.  Where to speak softly.  Where to raise my
voice.  As a lesson in public speaking, it was awesome.  Finally, she
pronounced me fit to meet my public.

   My public, initially, consisted of Mr Sanders, who was ready to throw in
the towel and demand I find a new solicitor to act for me.  Bobbie asked
him to listen to me first.  I gave it to him, full force.  I could see him
wavering.

   "Well, Mr Harper," he finally said.  "You know, I think this just might
work."

   The day of the pre-trial hearing finally arrived.  I'm told there was
quite a lot of infighting within the legal profession before the panel of
judges was announced.  Two males - well, I was in with a good chance there.
One female.  Mrs Justice Booth, aka Cherie Blair.  Oh, fuck!

   I had the choice of making my statement from the dock, or from the
witness box.  Standing in the dock, you don't have to swear the oath.  In
the witness box, you do.

   I went for the witness box, and solemnly swore to tell the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Well, why not?  I'd been wanting
to do exactly that for six months now.  I hadn't been able to then, but now
I could.

   "To begin with, my lords, I have to admit the main charge.  I designed,
created and released the Irritant Plague."

   One of the judges stopped me at that point, and queried Bobbie.

   "Does your client realise that he is admitting liability?  If so, this
could be a very short hearing.  Very short indeed."

   "He does, my lord," responded Bobbie.  "but he asks that you hear him
out.  He believes, and I believe with him, that his motives at the time
were good."

   "Good motives do not eliminate criminal responsibility," put in the
other male.

   Bobbie sprang to her feet again.  "Indeed not, my lord, but they do
mitigate in some circumstances."

   Cherie hadn't spoken yet.  But if looks could kill, I'd be dead already.
The judges conferred, and decided that I should continue.

   "My lords," I said.  "In creating and spreading the plague, I have been
responsible for a lot of pain, much immoral behaviour, and more than a few
children.  I would argue over the figure of a million, but let's not
quibble over numbers at this stage.  That's the down-side of the plague."

   "And you are going to tell us that there's an up-side, I suppose?", put
in one of the judges.

   "Indeed I am.  Some of it is well known - my wife has been documenting
it almost from the start." I smiled at her, up in the gallery.  She blew me
a kiss in reply.

   "You all know the figures.  Rape, almost non-existent.  Crimes of
violence are down by more than three-quarters.  Robbery, more than halved.
Drunkenness, drug abuse, down by over a third.  Vandalism down by half. 
Even traffic accidents are well below the normal figures.  Part of that is
down to less heavy drinking, but quite a lot is because people have been
generally better-natured.  A lot of road accidents are caused by pure
anger. If people are happy, they drive better.  And all these indicators
are showing a continuing fall.  If it carries on, we'll be living in a much
more pleasant society.

   "The same general air of goodwill shows up elsewhere.  Suicides, down to
a tenth of normal.  Sleeping tablet prescriptions more than halved.  Visits
to doctors, well down.  I could go on, but will leave it there for the time
being.  The point I am making, _and have proved_, is that for the last six
months, by any measure you care to apply, the population of this country
has been happier than ever before.

   I took a sip of water.  This was where things got technical, and I
didn't want to lose my audience.  "But I have to say that all this
goodwill, all this saving in property and persons, was a purely accidental
by-product of my Irritant Plague.  I'm no sociologist, and there was no way
that I could have predicted it.  I doubt if many sociologists would have
been able to, either.  It was simply a happy accident.  I mention it
because, first, it is well known and well proven, and second, I can let it
weigh in the balance against an _un_happy accident.

   "You see, when I first designed the Plague, I hadn't expected the
irritant chemicals.  All I'd wanted was a crop of little pink nodules,
generating odd-looking chemicals, in every vagina in the land.  If it had
worked the way I expected, they would have spread across the world with
no-one taking much notice.  The irritants were a nasty surprise to me.  I
worked for six months to eliminate them, but found that I couldn't.  Not
without destroying the reason for the nodules in the first place.  The best
solution I could find were a couple of part-answers.  I found that I could
tailor the nodules to react to an enzyme package, which would cause them to
switch off the irritant secretions.  That enzyme package being the one
contained in the acrosome, the tip of the sperm cell.  Do you follow me, my
lords?"

   The one who seemed to have elected himself spokesman replied.  "I
presume that you are talking about the known fact that intercourse stopped
the pain for a while."

   "Precisely, my lord.  But the switch-off was only temporary.  At first,
it was just for a few minutes.  I tailored the cells to be more receptive
to the enzymes, and managed to get the irritants switched off for forty
hours.  And there I stuck.  No further advance seemed possible.  As a
side-effect, though, I found that I could set them to switch off
permanently with a particular enzyme combination.  Since I had some choice
in the matter, I set the combination to that of my own sperm.  This might
be considered selfish.  Certainly, it gave me a certain popularity with the
ladies" - my comment was given a bleak stare by Cherie - "but that wasn't
my reason for doing it.  I wanted to ensure that this fact, that certain
enzymes caused a permanent cure, was publicised as quickly as possible.

   "So, what is the plague actually for?  Why did I do it?  Before I answer
that, I would ask a simple question.  Why, in amongst the charges against
me, are there no charges of spreading sexually-transmitted diseases?  Can
it be that in a six-month orgy of unprotected sex, no-one has actually
contracted one?  Surely not!"

   The judges conferred, and leaned over the bench to whisper to officials,
then turned back to me.  "That charge is not mentioned.  We can see no
reason for the omission - as you say, there should have been an epidemic of
venereal diseases of all types."

   "But there hasn't been.  The chemicals that are flooding out of the
nodules, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, are tailored to
prevent various diseases, and even cure some of them.  Syphilis. 
Gonorrhea. Hepatitis.  Aids.  And quite a lot more.  I had discovered,
several years ago, a mechanism for tailoring anti-bacterial and anti-viral
chemicals.  Mostly, they didn't actually kill the organisms, but they could
weaken them, and slow their reproduction, to the point where the body's own
defences could deal with the invaders quite easily.  There was a problem,
though.  The chemicals are very short-lived, and must be continually
applied.  As such, they were a failure, which is why I didn't publish
anything on the subject.  Then, when the technology at my laboratory
improved, I realised that I had the perfect delivery system for my tailored
chemicals.  I could create the nodules, which would be tiny chemical
factories, producing the right chemicals in the right place, constantly. 
And it worked.

   "I have to say, though, that the normal sexually-transmitted diseases
were not my primary target.  An important one, yes.  But there was one
disease in particular, which most people don't even consider to be
sexually-transmitted, even though it is.  My mother, my aunts, and my
wife's mother all died of it.  I am talking of cervical cancer.

   "This is a disease which seems to be triggered by certain substances,
and viruses in particular, found under the male foreskin.  It is, as far as
I know, not found in virgins, and vanishingly rare in the partners of
circumcised men.  When my father discovered this - that he had unwittingly
caused the death of his beloved wife - it broke him.  He died soon after.
By this time, I had met my future wife, and her sister.  Ironically, we met
in the cancer ward, at the deathbeds of our mothers.  I swore then that I
would do whatever was necessary to lift the fear of this disease from all
women, everywhere.

   "So, in all the furore over my little plague, has anybody noticed the
figures for new early cases of cervical cancer in the UK?  It normally goes
over 1,500 in six months.  In the last six months, 200.  Abnormal smear
tests, normally 12,000 in six months.  In the last six months, less than a
thousand.  And now most women in the UK carry my little pink nodules, the
figure will go on dropping.  And as it spreads around the world, the
figures will drop everywhere.  Do you see my dilemma, your lordships?  I'd
worked for six months, knowing that I had a cure for this dreadful illness.
But before I could apply it, I had to try to eliminate the painful
side-effects of the treatment.  I couldn't get rid of those irritant
secretions, no matter what I tried.  And all around me, more women were
contracting the disease.  So, as soon as I had those partial answers, I
released it."

   "But, Dr Harper," said the Judge, sounding slightly less fearsome, "why
didn't you announce what you had?  Put the whole thing on a proper
scientific basis?"

   "Simple, my lord.  Because if I had, it would have gone away for
'testing' and 'analysis' for about ten years.  Oh, a few women would have
been helped in the test program, but very few indeed.  I had already tested
it.  I _knew_ it would work.  There was some doubt in my mind about whether
it would be effective in all cases, but at the very least, I knew it would
cause no harm.  Meanwhile, women were falling ill everywhere.  They
wouldn't all die, or even most of them, but for those who survived, the
treatment, like all cancer treatments, would be fearsome.  And many would
die anyway, even after the treatment.  Like my mother, my aunts, and my
mother-in-law had died.  Shortly after I released the plague, my wife told
me that both she and her twin sister had been diagnosed with the early form
of the disease.  They have now both been pronounced clear.  And that fact
alone is worth any punishment you might give me."

   I looked up at Sue.  I hoped she understood why I had given her a dummy
cure, rather than try to explain that she'd already had the real one.

   "So," said his lordship, "why, having released the plague, did you not
immediately come up with the enzyme cure?  Why did you put so many women
through all that pain?"

   "I already knew the combination of enzymes which would effect the cure,
long before I decided to release the plague.  It's no simple matter to
gene-splice a bacterium to produce the right combination.  Everyone was
surprised that my team came up with an effective answer in only six months.
The reason for that is simple.  It in fact took me almost a full year,
working on it as hard as I could."

   Mrs Justice Booth - Cherie Blair - cleared her throat.  "You talk of a
vaginal infection.  What about the anal variety, which seems to have
attacked most women, and seems to have no relevance to your anti-cancer
targets."

   "That, my lord, was a surprise.  I had thought the nodules would remain
in the vagina, attached to the wall and breeding contentedly.  I hadn't
realised that some of them would be able to migrate _through_ the thin
membrane separating vagina from rectum.  Nor that when they arrived, they
would find conditions to their liking and set up fresh colonies."

   I took a deep breath.  The next part was the one that would see me freed
or lynched.  This was what Bobbie and I had worked on hardest.

   "Once I'd realised what could be done, what HAD to be done, I realised
that it involved certain advantages, to me in particular, and to my sex in
general.  Selfish thoughts, I know.  For quite a few years, my sex life was
a disaster.  My wife generously allowed me to have sex once a week.  She
claimed.  Actually, it was less than half that.  Only 24 times in the year
before the plague, and falling all the time.  Yes, my lords - I kept
records.  Why, I'm not sure - it only built up my anger and resentment."

   I took another sip of water.  "And those emotions weren't just mine. 
Many, perhaps most, men felt the same about their partners.  Else why all
the bitter jokes on the subject?  Were the ladies being deliberately cruel?
Did they realise what it was like for us?  Lying awake, night after night,
unable to sleep through sexual frustration?  With the means of release
lying only inches away?  Did they even begin to understand the sheer
willpower it took, just to let them sleep?  Rather than grabbing and
raping, as our ancestral instincts were telling us to do?  The beast is
strong in us - even us wimps.  So, just for a little while, I wanted them
to know something of what it felt like for us.  I wanted them to _need_
sex. And it worked.

   I looked up at Sue.  She looked back at me, confident, trusting.  And
gave me the strength I needed to carry on.  "Less than forty-eight hours
after my wife became infected, our sex life had been transformed.  By
needing it, by having to work for it, she'd found that she was enjoying it.
Which in turn made it much more enjoyable for me.  We had set up a
'virtuous circle', and we were both gaining from it.

   "However, one night I was overtired.  I'd worked through much of the
preceding night.  So when I'd administered the 'cure', I went to sleep, and
she found herself in the same position I'd been in for all those years. 
Unable to sleep from sexual frustration!  And did she lay quietly awake,
fuming, resentful, as I had done?  No, she didn't.  She raped me, quite
violently.  But ultimately enjoyably, for both of us.  I think we both
learned a lesson or two that night about our partner's needs.  And
according to her research, we're far from the only couple who have
discovered the same thing.

   "As I said, the anal infection was a surprise.  In fact, it was a
surprise that nearly blew the whole thing out of the water.  I'd
anticipated that women would need sex almost every day, which seemed to me
to be a fairly inviting prospect for most men.  I hadn't reckoned with them
needing it twice a day, and things became pretty difficult all round. 
Still, the men in most part shouldered their burden well, and where they
physically couldn't, forgot the old jealousies and stepped back to accept
help.  Everyone played their part surprisingly well - again, as my wife and
her colleagues have documented.

   "Now, though, we're back to the old situation.  Men have a physical need
for sex.  Women don't, not any more.  And maybe things will drift back to
where they were.

   "So, girls.  You've had your lesson.  We've had our fun.  And if we're
really really, stupid, we'll just go back to playing the same games we've
always played, with the boys pleading and the girls refusing.  But maybe,
just maybe, things will be different.  Maybe one or two of the boys will
remember what a turn-off the constant nagging for sex turned out to be. 
Maybe one or two of the girls will remember that they actually had quite a
good time ...  maybe even my wife will.  And maybe some of them will look
into their family histories, and realise that without me and my little Fuck
Plague, they might be dying by now.  I'm willing to take my punishment. 
All I ask is that, instead of sewing mailbags, I'm given a bit of
laboratory space.  There are a lot more diseases out there, and I intend to
tailor an anti-hormone for every damned one of them, if you'll let me."

   The three judges are sitting on the bench, conferring.  Cherie Blair
glances down at me, with some of the glare gone from her eye.  The other
two judges are men, and they're smiling.  Maybe I'll get lucky.





   *Author's note* Ever play with a blob of mercury?  You roll it in your
hand, or around the tabletop.  It's pretty, but elusive.  You try to push
it one way, it goes the other.  It goes where it wants to, dodging,
evading. That's why they call it quicksilver.  And that's what this story
was like.  I had an idea.  Started to write it, and it changed.  I wrote
the changes, and it changed again.  And kept changing.  It dodged away from
me so fast and so often that for a while I thought I was going to lose it
altogether.  Well, maybe I did.  It certainly isn't the story I started
with.  That one was a straight fuck piece.  It's still in there somewhere,
but there's a lot of other stuff as well.

   Let me know what you think.

   Varod122@aol.com