Mel

Mel

1. October 2024

The Friday afternoon traffic on the West Road leaving Newcastle was the usual outtake from Mad Max Fury Road. That said, with the A1 super junction from Hell behind me, I was soon flying through the verdant green of rural Northumberland on my way up to Hexham. I'd endured a bitch of a day and, when I could take no more of the selfishness, the bullying and the stupidity, I quit the field and ran to the hills. Call me a coward if you want. I don't care. I'll explain my motives a little further on. Hopefully, you'll see why I hit the Exit button.

I indicated half a mile before the turn and then cut my speed as gently as I could. The road up to the homestead is long and difficult, and even the most proficient driver needs to watch his or her speed at every single bend because you never know who or what might lie beyond. Sometimes it's a cow. Sometimes it's a sheep. Occasionally, it's Ramblers. A cow will, generally speaking, get out of the way albeit according to its own Bovine-regulated time scale. A sheep will just stand in the middle of the road and wait to be run over but then so will most Humanities Professors. Ramblers are the most fun. You can wait patiently for them to step aside. You can stop the car and politely ask them to get out of the way so you can go about your lawful business but the result is generally the same. They'll usually look the other way and ignore you entirely, or point out, sometimes loudly, that they have the right of way because... well... because... and when they do eventually get out of your way, they'll come to the end of the road only to realise that they've misread their map and they're utterly lost. That's when they come knocking on my door. I'm nearly always polite.

Three quarters of a mile later, I arrived at my front door and wondered what perils lay within. I switched off the house alarm remotely and approached with the usual caution. Why so nervous? Probably because I watched too many Stalk and Slash movies in my formative years.

The house was quiet with just the gentle hum of the refrigerator to break the monotony. I went straight to the kitchen, put the kettle on and then kick-started the boiler so that I had enough hot water for a bath. After that, I dragged my stuff from the car and then moved the vehicle to the side of the house so that it wasn't visible from the road - a simple and yet highly effective security precaution passed on by a trusted friend and part-time Policeman, Sid, who knows this part of the world, and the locals, very well indeed.

The bath was quite delicious. A little too hot, perhaps. Certainly a little too much bubble bath but still glorious all the same and I lay there until I started to wrinkle in all the wrong places. A chance to think, to press PAUSE on the extremes of the day and how a seemingly simple situation had spiralled out of control to the extent that I had a screaming match with my boss and walked off site to avoid punching somebody.

And relax...

I dried myself off and then, wearing nought but a pair of scruffy black slippers and a scruffier towel, went to sit on the back step, coffee cup in hand, so that I could take in the last rays of the setting sun. Did I say this place was idyllic? It is. This place is my home. My real home. It's peaceful and quiet, and the perfect refuge from the idiocy that is academia.

Best of all, I can happily walk around my garden as nature intended without anyone intruding upon my solitude. In the distance, I spotted a lonely tractor ploughing a field, completely oblivious to my nakedness. A shame to let such terrific boobs go to waste, I thought. (And they are terrific, by the way) I did spot something unusual hovering over the next valley - a Hot Air Balloon, which is a rare beast these days. Thirty years ago, they were everywhere. Today, they're just downright unusual. Over the next half hour, the wind carried this elaborately patterned miracle of engineering towards my house. What's girl to do when she's wearing nothing but a smile? Wave, of course. So that's what I did, bare bum and all but, alas, I was invisible. Just an anonymous milky white dot on the landscape below.

I thought about lying down on the lawn with my arms and legs spread wide, Starfish-style. They'd see that, wouldn't they? My father used to do the same in our back garden before us children came along. He did so to stop the Trainee Pilots at the nearby flying school zipping over his back garden at less than two hundred feet. Later, after the RAF base closed, he continued the practice and claimed that he was merely pretending to be a sundial. This shabby habit persisted until Mum tried to use Dad's knob to figure out the time and concluded that it was 'a quarter past far too short'. Dad never forgave her for that remark.

Anyway, I gave up trying to attract the attention of those errant balloonists and I retreated into the kitchen. In doing so, another idle thought entered my mind. I wondered if my bare bum was visible on Google Earth and now so do you, don't you? Well, it wasn't, and isn't! Yeah, I had another look just to be sure. Sniff. Never mind.

By now, my mood was starting to lift. I began to feel happy again, or at least happier. The necessities of life loomed large and I started to wonder what culinary delights I could conjure up with just a Microwave and a couple of packets of Noodles. In the end, I decided I couldn't be bothered, which meant a trip to...

... the Pub is one of my favourite places for rest and relaxation, and full of the sort of people who know how to have a good time. The Rugby Club were in fine voice and the place was unusually noisy. The Team are not your usual bunch of thick-eared savages. They're mostly gentlemen - two lawyers, a Dentist, the local Doctor, several industrial chemists from the nearby factories, and so on. They won last week's critical game against their fearsome arch rivals from Corbridge and the celebrations which took place in the baths afterwards have already become the stuff of legend. Twenty men, all naked, joyous and a little the worse for drink were joined by several of the wives, also naked, also a little worse for the drink. Not quite an orgy but... You get the idea. The thought of being in that heady melange kept me awake most of Saturday night and well into Sunday morning. I so wanted to be in their midst, naked whilst getting pawed at and admired, and maybe even a little below-the-water action. Why not? A girl can dream, can't she?

"There was someone looking for you earlier," said Petrie, the Bar Manager. "Tall, thin girl, black hair. Spoke with a posh Southern accent. Ring a bell?"

Melany Hunter-Smith. Mel. How the Hell did she find me?

"Yeah, I know who she is," I said, smiling. "Did you set the dogs on her?"

Petrie shook his head. "Should I?"

"Where is she now?"

"She skipped on to the next town," said Petrie. "They have a Co-Op and she said she needed provisions."

"Is she staying here?"

Petrie smiled. "Wouldn't commit. I said I can put her up but the only two rooms I have left are not the best. Actually, they're only just habitable. She'd be better off sleeping out in the open, frankly. The rats won't go outside after dark."

"If she's trouble then I can call Sid," added Petrie.

"No need," I said. "She's harmless. But feel free to throw her out on her ass if she does step out of line."

"Sounds like you're not on speaking terms with this Mel,"

I smiled. "You could say that," I whispered.

I felt an urgent need to change the subject. "What's to eat? Anything good?"

"Of course," said Petrie. "There's a fine fish pie with roast vegetables. Had that myself tonight and it was very good. The chicken curry is also good if a little hot. Truth be told, it took the roof off my mouth last night and it's been stewing all day. Herbie [the cook] says it isn't taking any prisoners."

"Excellent," I said. "I'll have the curry. What's to drink?"

"I have a couple of particularly nice reds in reserve," said Petrie. "The Pinot Noir was delicious."

"Perfect," I said. "Bring a bottle. Or two."

I settled in beside a nice log fire and picked up a copy of the Hexham Courant that some kind soul had left lying. An hour later, my gut was full to bursting and my head was gently buzzing. My neighbour, Derek, came over to talk and that was a genuine pleasure. I helped coach his daughter, Matilda aka Tilly, through her A Levels last summer and she'd just finished her first year at University College London, which is one of the best Universities in the world. He's thrilled. The first generation in his family to go into Higher Education and look where she's at. Brilliant!

Don't worry, Dear Reader. You'll hear all about Tilly later on.

The whole pub was alive with laughter and some very coarse language as well as the sounds and smells so typical of the Traditional English Ale House. Heaven on earth to some, myself included.

And then, very suddenly, it wasn't.

There was a stranger in our midst. You didn't need to say her name. You've probably already guessed.

Call it a gift. Call it a skill but when Melanie Hunter-Smith enters a room it's a bit like somebody has just opened a fridge door. Only colder. I tried harder than ever to push myself into the deep plush pile of my armchair but it did no good. Seconds later, Mel stood in front of me, smiling.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey back at you," I replied without smiling.

"I just wanted to apologise,"

I didn't reply.

Mel looked uneasy. "May I join you?"

"If you wish," I mumbled as I shifted in my seat and grabbed my glass.

"I need to say something," said Mel.

Mel cautiously lowered herself into a wheel-backed chair and began unbuttoning her coat.

"I had a long hard think about what you said."

"And?"

"You were right," she said. "And I was wrong."

"And on so many levels, too!"

"But," added Mel. "In my defence, Spartacus [our Boss!] said I should do it. He said I should add my name."

Okay, before we go any further, here's a description of Melanie Hunter-Smith.

She's about five foot seven with a thin, near equine face. Her skin is so pale that she looks like she's been spray-painted with chromium white and then left to dry out on the Arctic tundra. Physically, she's painfully thin, maybe eight stone, one hundred and twenty pounds and seems to have cornered the market in ill-fitting clothes. She's also sporting a hair style that my father would describe as the "Dog on a Motorbike" look, which is to say her hair is a mass of jet black curls piled up on one side. She looks permanently lop-sided, like she's going to topple over at any moment.

Oh, and sandals. Open-toed sandals. Not a fan.

Want to know what she did? I'll keep it brief.

Falling out with Melanie Hunter-Smith isn't unusual. It happens quite a lot but, in this instance, she was very definitely in the wrong, and she knew it. What did she do? She put her name on an academic paper without actually contributing anything to said paper. That's just shit, frankly, and especially so when it was my paper. Four years of hard graft. Four years of research. Four years of draft after draft after draft, and when I was finally ready to publish, Spartacus was apparently too busy to review the contents properly so he handed the preview over to Mel for her comments. Thing is, Mel does not know the first thing about the subject. Not a bean. It's totally off her charts.

Mel had no excuse. She reviewed the paper, added a few cryptic comments hastily scribbled in the margins and handed the document back to Spartacus, job done. The paper should have been sent off for publication but Spartacus just forgot about it. He's an idle, work shy fool. I found my paper in his In Box some days later and, being a suspicious so-and-so, I checked the revised draft just because I could and... That's when I saw Mel's notes. Worse still, she'd put her name at the top of the paper, next to mine, as if she was a co-author.

I instantly blew a metaphorical gasket. I stomped down to her office and let rip. I said a few things I regret. I said a lot more I don't regret. Not one iota. She tried to apologise but I wasn't having it. I stormed out of her office and slammed her door so hard that the glass panel fell out and shattered on the floor. Did I care? No. The University can send me the bill for a replacement anytime they like.

I went back to my office, tore the revised copy in half and dumped it in the bin. After that, I grabbed my stuff and left for the weekend even though I was timetabled to host a seminar at four. I passed Spartacus on the way to the car park and let rip at him, too, right out in the open. I called him a few choice names. He tried to offer up an explanation but I was too upset to hear any of it. Didn't matter. Minutes later, I was speeding up the central motorway bound for the outer limits of Hexham.

I downed the last of my wine and wondered how long Mel would stand there waiting for my response.

"All you did was proof read the paper.," I said. "And that was it! Nothing more. You read it and then decided to take credit for the work. Your name, up there, next to mine."

"But Spartacus insisted I should get my name out there to I build a reputation. Reputations bring in funding."

"Also true. But adding your name to a research document where you didn't actually contribute anything of any real value to the research is just wrong. It also an old shabby trick, an illusion that, in reality, just makes you look sad and desperate. Can you not see that?"

"With hindsight, yes," said Mel. "But Spartacus?"

"Spartacus hasn't done any useful research in ten years, and he knows it. He doesn't read enough. Certainly doesn't write enough. The only way he can keep his reputation is by highjacking someone else's work. It's thoroughly disreputable. As a practice, it brings Academia into disrepute."

Mel tried to smile. "I am sorry. Genuinely sorry," she said, softly. "I didn't know. Really, I didn't. And now..."

"And now what?"

"You're pissed at me," said Mel.

"Royally pissed, matey. Royally."

Now, at this point, I was uncomfortably aware that our little confrontation had drawn the attention of one or two of the local characters, individuals who enjoy nothing more than sticking their noses into other people's business. All eyes were on us.

And then they weren't because... Wow!

Another interloper was suddenly in their midst. All eyes turned from the rather teary-eyed Mel in the direction of...

Okay, so, Ladies and Gentlemen, we now arrive at the nuts and bolts of this missive, the point of this epic tome. You've been wondering where it was going, haven't you?

Enter Miss Juno Tench. Actually, Doctor Juno Tench to be pedantic.

Juno Tench is roughly six feet two inches tall with a mass of rich shoulder-length auburn curls that tumble down her back like a cascading waterfall. Her Lion's Main sits atop a slender, very athletic frame. Her muscles have muscles. She's a kind of Chuck Norris of the Academic World.

To heighten the effect, Juno was wearing her usual attire, which is to say a plain white t-shirt at least two sizes too small and a pair of skin-tight jeans that hugged her curves so closely that you could read the account number and sort code of the Credit Card in her back pocket. She's unbelievably attractive. Like... Movie-star attractive. Like Pin-up attractive. Like going-weak-at-the-knees attractive.

Wait. There's more. Juno is also a former fencing champion, a Judo Black Belt and an Olympic Pentathlete. She's written for The Times. She's written for the Washington Post. She's written three books on Modern Philosophy and is working on her fourth.

One more thing? Her voice... Juno Tench's voice is like liquid chocolate pudding. It's rich and smooth and cultured and all points in between. She could very well read The Shipping Forecast or the Horse Racing results from the four fifteen at Chepstow and I'd be swooning on the floor in a heartbeat.

Doctor Juno Tench is also my girlfriend. There. I said it. I said it out loud, too. We're an item. She's the reason I'm here each and every weekend.

Juno smiled and waved, and went straight to the bar. Seconds later, she arrived at my table carrying a pint of something awful. For reasons I don't fully comprehend, Juno has a taste for Real Ale, which I think it tastes foul.

Juno smiled with that huge beautiful smile of hers and promptly kicked off her shoes. "Good evening, Doctor De Winter," she said, towering over poor Mel.

I stood and embraced her warmly. "So good to see you," I whispered. "I have missed you so much it hurts!"

Juno hugged me close and kissed the side of my neck. I nearly fainted. I really did.

"Juno, this is Mel. Mel, this is Juno."

"Hi Mel," said Juno at a volume that made heads turn. "Are you staying?"

This is Juno's less than subtle way of saying "Piss off! She's with me!"

Mel immediately sensed that two is company and three was most definitely a crowd. "I'd best be going," she said. "I need get back to Newcastle."

My response was rather cold. "Okay, bye," I said before I turned my full attention back to Juno. Yeah, I know. That was kinda cruel but... Stick with it...

Soon enough, Mel was little more than a fading memory.

"What was that about?" asked Juno.

"Work," I replied.

"A proper rain cloud if ever there was one," said Juno. "Have you had a tiff?"

I explained how Mel had tagged her name on my paper and that she'd followed me into the wilds to make an apology.

"That is so shit," whispered Juno. "Like bollocks did Spartacus tell her to do that. She has to know the rules."

"Yeah, well," I said. "She can go whistle! But never mind her. Tell me about your day."

Juno is a counsellor. She works with women who have suffered the most appalling abuse. I won't say any more because her work is pretty distressing. Plus, she's bound by her professional rules not to divulge details and, truly, they don't belong in a story such as this.

"The Yurt was so hot today that we did most of our work outside," said Juno. "Absolutely baking!"

"The Drum workshop? I thought I heard something earlier on, around four."

"Yup," said Juno. "A dozen semi-naked sweaty women all pissed up on home-brewed Apple Cider and incense. I swear, the chickens were so mellowed out they were doing a Samba."

"Semi-naked? A Samba? I'd have joined in!"

Juno laughed. "And you'd have been made most welcome!"

And so on.

Juno is just perfect company. She's full of fun but also carries a presence, a physical confidence. She boasts a subtle attitude to life that exudes strength and integrity.

We talked and we talked, and we certainly drank a little too much. Petrie rang the Last Orders bell at ten fifty five but, by then, we were both properly intoxicated.

"I'm too pissed to drive," said Juno. "I'll have to leave my car here. Will Petrie mind?"

"I doubt it," I said. "But I'd ask anyway. Manners and all that."

Derek, my tenant farmer / neighbour approached. "You need a lift back to your place, Pea?" (Yes, he calls me 'Pea')

"Hey, wow," I said. "That would be brilliant!"

"What about Juno? I can give her a lift home, too!" (Juno's house is not far from Derek's holding.)

Juno approached. "Much appreciated, Derek," she said. "But Pea and me, we have a heavy, heavy night ahead of us."

Derek took a step backwards, plainly shocked. "Say what?"

"Mars, Jupiter and Saturn," said Juno. "We're getting the telescope out. Wanna come?"

Derek looked puzzled. "The telescope?"

(Yes, I have a telescope...)

"I need my astrology fix," said Juno, looming over Derek's shoulder. "I need to see my favourite planets so I can go all 'Wooo' and predict the future!"

"Will I win the lottery?" asked Derek.

Juno laughed. "Only if you buy a ticket, Derek. You have to buy a ticket first!"

Together, we piled into Derek's Land Rover and, twenty minutes later, all three of us were on the back lawn peering at Saturn.

"Wow!" whispered Derek, plainly in awe. "The rings are amazing! Smaller than I expected but..."

"It's not a very powerful telescope," I replied because, truthfully, it isn't.

"It's the best ten inches you're gonna get this side of Christmas," whispered Juno, a huge grin spreading across her face. [Yes, she's drunk...]

Derek smiled and tried not to laugh but he did anyway. "And I can see something. What's that? Lower left?"

I squinted and peered through the scope. "Titan, Saturn's biggest moon!"

"You're kidding?" said Derek.

Juno took a look. "Yup, certainly is!"

"Wow!!!!" whispered Derek. "Really?"

I think the poor guy was quite literally stunned into silence. We shifted the telescope around towards Jupiter and, as before, Derek stood in the dark with his mouth open, plainly in shock.

I wondered how he'd feel if he knew that the way he looked at Jupiter was the same as the way I looked at his daughter, Matilda. That thought made me smile.

Anyway, Derek was soon off - like most folk who work on the land, he had an early start - so Juno and I cracked open a fresh bottle of wine and spent a joyous thirty minutes on the back lawn under a blanket staring at the sky.

"Just look at all of those satellites," she whispered. "When I was little, my Dad used to take me outside to see those flare satellites. They were really, really bright. You don't see them anymore."

"The Iridium swarm," I said. "They were decommissioned. Fell out use then fell out of the sky, all burned up."

"Shame," said Juno. "They were fun!"

"A lot like my love life," I whispered.

"Okay," said Juno, laughing. "Time for a game."

"A game? What sort of game?"

"Whoever sees a shooting star calls out and the other has to take off an item of clothing,"

"You'll cheat," I said. "You just wanna get me undressed!"

"And why not?"

"Okay, you're on!"

Twenty minutes later, neither of us had seen a single meteor. Not one. Hadn't stopped us getting busy under the blanket though. I was pretty much naked and we'd kissed so hard that my jaw was aching. Yeah, Juno is into me as much as I am into her. Well, I hope she is.

"Time for bed," I whispered.

"I need a quick shower first," said Juno. "Would that be okay?"

"Of course, and I'll probably join you!"

"Thought you might!"

And, with that, we put the telescope back in the Conservatory, locked up the house and retreated to the bedroom.

2.

Juno was upstairs, in the shower, when the doorbell rang.

My heart skipped a beat. A knock on the door at such a late hour was and is very, very unusual. Had Derek come back? Was Tilly on a Night Walk? Perhaps Sid the Copper was doing his rounds and had seen something suspicious?

"Who the fuck comes calling at this time of night?" shouted Juno from the landing.

I slipped into a scruffy pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and then paused to pick up the carefully-placed baseball bat that lives behind the kitchen door, just in case. There wasn't time to grab my shotgun. Perhaps that's a good thing.

With my thumb hovering above the Speed Dial button labelled '999', I shouted "Who is it?"

"Mel," said the voice on the other side of the door. "Can you help me?"

Okay, that made me smile. It really did.

"You're on your own, right?"

"Yes." said Mel.

"Sure? No nasty surprises if I open the door?"

"None!"

"Because I'm carrying a baseball bat and a bottle of bleach."

"I'm on my own," said Mel. "And it's starting to rain."

I undid the locks and opened the door slowly. Juno was hovering behind me on the stairs as back up.

"May I come in?" said Mel, very sheepishly.

I nodded and she stepped over the threshold. "I've had a truly miserable time," she said.

"Petrie let me have the last room," continued Mel. "I tried to sleep but...."

"What happened?"

"There was a sheep at the end of the bed!"

"A sheep?"

"A sheep!"

Juno, still hovering, laughed out loud. "That's Nobby," she shouted. "Nobby the Guard Sheep. He's nothing to worry about."

"Well Nobby was standing at the bottom of the bed," said Mel. "And Nobby was licking his lips."

"Nobby is Petrie's guard dog," I said. "He does that."

"Doesn't look much like a guard dog," said Mel as she slipped out of her coat.

"Shoes off, please," I said. "House rules."

"And this bloody sheep," sobbed Mel. "it tried to climb into bed with me,"

[Stop laughing, Portia, FFS!]

"And?"

"And that bloody old sod Petrie pushed his way through the door without knocking, trying to grab this Nobby the Sheep, and he was only wearing a pair of underpants!"

"Underpants?" shouted Juno. "His own or his wife's?"

"They were Y-Fronts," said Mel. "Big, nasty Y-Fronts with a picture of Boris Johnson on the front."

"Still doesn't answer my question," said Juno. "His underpants or his wife's?"

Mel didn't reply.

"Look," said Mel. "I know we argued. I know what I did was shit. Truly shit. And I'm sorry. Genuinely sorry."

"Where's your car?" I asked.

"I have no idea," said Mel. "I parked it up outside a house not far from the pub and it wasn't there when I went to get it."

"I can call Sid."

"No, don't." said Mel. "I think I know where I left it. Look, it's late. I'm on my knees. I need a place to crash and it's starting to rain."

I thought for a second or two. Honestly, I really didn't want Mel staying here but, equally, I couldn't just throw her out into the wilds. The clock on the wall was past midnight.

"I guess you haven't eaten, either?"

Mel shook her head. "I'm starving."

"Kitchen is over there. Grab what you want."

Juno advanced. "There's the dregs from a very acceptable bottle of red still clinging to this side of reality," she said. "It'll be off my the morning."

"I thought I'd end up sleeping in a shed," said Mel.

"You might still," I whispered.

"It's Friday night in Hexham," said Juno. "You'd be safer sleeping on the streets of downtown Mogadishu."

Mel's shoulders dropped. "Have you got a spare room?"

"I have an old barn," I said. "It has a roof and at least three walls. And chickens. You're good so long as you don't mind the chickens."

"Really?" said Mel, astonished. "A Barn? With the chickens?"

I laughed out loud. "Of course not, you stupid mare! Have the couch. You can doss there. The spare room is full of crap and I'm not cleaning that up at this time of night."

"The couch will be fine," said Mel.

I handed Mel a loaf of bread plus some rather aged cheese from the fridge, and she soon figured out how to use the toaster. After that, I retreated to the safety of the shower.

Ten minutes later, having washed away the sins of the day, I emerged into the main bedroom, where I found Juno propped up in bed and reading Volume One of John Syke's Local

Records [First edition, originally published, 1833].

"This is amazing," she said. "There's a rather delicious account of some Ball Lightening that trashed a house not far from here!"

"I can even show you what's left of the ruin, if you want!"

"You can? Please do!"

I dropped my towel. Juno's jaw fell open.

"Woah, hang on a second!" said Juno, rather sharply. "What's that on your thigh?"

"What's what on my thigh?"

"You have a massive bruise. It's as big as a fist!"

I turned and tried to catch a glimpse in the mirror. Couldn't see much.

"I was moving a couple of chairs in my office and backed into a desk," I said. "Didn't hurt all that much at the time."

"I'm gonna rub something on that," said Juno. "Looks nasty!"

Juno told me to lie face down on the bed. She's endured a fair amount of physiotherapy throughout her athletic career so she knows exactly what she's doing. She massaged the bruised area at the top of my ass until I began to feel uncomfortable, and then she went to work on the back of my legs.

"Just superficial," she whispered. "Looks worse than it is."

She lowered her head and kissed the back of my calves, and then my ankles.

"There," she said. "That'll fix it."

I laughed out loud because she knows what this does to me. My feet and ankles are especially sensitive, and even the slightest pressure will get me aroused. And I was most definitely aroused.

Juno moved further up my legs at a slow but steady pace as her lips gently touched the back of my knees and then my thighs, and I started to get a lovely, lovely tingling in my belly.

I rolled over so that I could see her in full. It's been a month since we last coupled and I've missed her every single hour of every single day. Even in the half light from the bedside lamp, she was utterly glorious. As I said further up, Juno is incredibly powerful. Her muscles have muscles. Big shoulders. Strong arms. Beautiful breasts tapering to a very narrow waist. Her hips are amazing. I looked down, at her thighs straddling my own, and at the patch of dark hair spreading across her belly. I wanted to cry. I really did.

Juno hovered over me, her eyes locked on mine. She planted a kiss on my lips and pushed her tongue into my mouth.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you," she said.

"I think I do."

"Well, maybe a little," she said, laughing. "And this isn't just lust talking."

My turn to smile.

We kissed again and then she was down on my neck and stroking my breasts, her belly pressed hard on my own. Delicious.

Juno drifted south, down my torso and over my belly until her head came to rest over my pussy. I opened my legs as gently as I could and she soon buried her face in my pubes. I reached down and spread my pussy lips for no other reason than it felt so good, so utterly debauched. Juno kissed the warm flesh exposed within, let her tongue explore up and down my slit.

I began to tremble. I really did.

Juno flipped around by one hundred and eighty degrees so that we were in a nice little sixty nine.

I stuck my head between her thighs and soon discovered that she was wet. Very, very wet. The taste was divine.

We stayed that way until my neck and shoulders began to ache. I quickly pulled her around so we were face to face again, kissed her hard and then planted the palm of my hand firmly on her pubic bone. I pressed hard until she began to visibly squirm. She finds this incredibly intense.

I went to work on her with my fingers until she began to moan ever so softly. Then, with me on top once again, I went south and got stuck into the gap at the top of her thighs, this time without my neck in such an impossible position.

Still lying on her back, Juno drew her legs up around her waist and laughed very, very gently at the slurping sounds issuing forth. I have to admit I did too.

"Wetter than my Granny's Mop!" she whispered, and that made me laugh even harder. I was going to point out that it's difficult to eat when you're laughing but she was oblivious. Yeah, I knew she was pretty close to her boiling point. I watched in awe as her torso began to rise and fall, her breathing becoming heavier and heavier. She was certainly building up to a nice little orgasm. I slipped a finger inside her, then another and then a third, until she was wide open and I could feel her muscles spasming around my fingertips in time with the ebb and flow of her belly.

I'm cruel but in a good way. Every time I sensed that she was edging closer and closer towards an orgasm, I changed tactics and shifted my focus. My face and chin were dripping. I had pussy juice streaming down my neck and across my chest, pooling between my breasts. By this point, Juno was physically shaking, her breathing harsh and deep, her legs writhing on the bed.

Juno screamed out loud and then she came, at first in a series of rather loud gasps that rang around the room like a broken harmony. These were followed by a series of soft, rather muted sighs until she again served up in a quick-fire burst of loud, emotional sobs that bordered on tears. She raised her thighs further still and bid me continue just a little longer.

Alas, she was spent, utterly and couldn't take any more.

Juno settled back, her legs spread wide with a huge grin on her face. She whispered something that I couldn't quite hear but I recognised the sentiment. We settled back together on the bed and gazed at the ceiling, and at the mass of cobwebs I'd somehow neglected to clean.

I could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage. I could see a trickle of sweat running down her neck. I could feel the endorphins rushing around her body.

Utter bliss.

And then the mood rather abruptly changed. We both sensed that something was amiss. We stared into each other's eyes because we both realised the awful truth of this encounter.

We were no longer alone.

We had an audience.

Startled, I turned towards the bedroom door, which had swung open by about a foot.

And there, in the dark at the top of the stairs, was a figure.

Mel.

Juno looked up over my shoulder and smiled but otherwise said nothing. I laughed out loud.

Mel wasn't wearing anything. Melanie Hunter-Smith wasn't wearing anything at all. However, the look on Mel's face was not one of unfettered lust. Neither did her stance suggest that she was about to charge headlong through the open door and throw herself upon the bed in anticipation of a jolly good seeing-to. No. Her face, her expression, reminded me exactly of my kid sister when Mum refused to hand her an ice lolly.

"Sorry if we kept you awake!" I said, still laughing because it really was genuinely funny.

Mel's jaw hung open. She turned in an instant and disappeared into the darkness. As I said before, it was like someone had just opened a fridge door.

Okay, that was our fun spoiled. Sort of. Juno hauled herself up the bed, dragging the duvet with her.

"Do you think she enjoyed the show?"

"Hey, at least you got some," I replied.

"True," said Juno. "But, you know? I can help you sleep,"

I settled into bed next to her and went back to staring at the ceiling.

"I need to sleep," I said. "And I can wait until morning."

Juno yawned. "I thought you weren't a fan of morning sex."

I smiled. "I wasn't," I whispered. "Not until I met you."

3.

Truth be told, I slept fitfully and was wide awake before five. By then, the world was already alive with the sound of birdsong and I felt the need to commune with nature. I slipped into a basic dressing gown and went downstairs without waking Juno, who was, as usual, dead to the world.

Similarly, Mel was sprawled across the couch seemingly fast asleep although she opened an eye as soon as she heard the coffee machine starting up.

"I'm going outside for a bit," I whispered.

"What time is it?" asked Mel.

"Around five twenty."

"Fuck that!"

Mel turned over and pulled a cushion over her head.

Coffee cup in hand, I found a pair of old training shoes stuffed away in the wet room, unlocked the back door and followed the path that led up the side of the house to the base of a small hill and then through a wall of dense foliage. Though the sun was already high in the sky, this little patch of woodland is always cool, always very primal. There's a spiritual quality here. I'm not one for 'Whoo' but this patch of ground has a special quality.

This tiny woodland on the eastern edge of my fiefdom is home to a small body of water that was originally dubbed The Tarn in the days of Elizabeth the First. I found a reference whilst researching the deeds of the house and, though it's origins are obscure, the general theory is that The Tarn was on a pilgrimage trail between the various Priories and Abbeys on the route to Durham Cathedral. In Victorian times, the Tarn was much favoured due to the clarity of its waters, which were said to have healing properties. Indeed, my house seems to have been built to accommodate a Superintendent of the Waters. I'd go along with that. The water has a clarity and a scent of its own. It's not pure, of that I am certain. It has a certain earthy quality to it.

I found the "Caution : Deep water" sign I erected last year as a polite warning. It was lying on its side behind a bush. Whether this was caused by a passing animal, a deer for instance, or a stroppy hiker is open for debate. I'd go with the latter.

Whilst The Tarn is perfect for early morning contemplations, it's also an infrequent target for those into Wild Swimming. Very occasionally, maybe once or twice a year, I see couples heading up the path and into these same woods oblivious to the "Private Property" sign that my Aunt erected in 1950 when she too found herself regularly invaded. I don't really mind and I'm not territorial. Said swimmers invariably emerge about thirty minutes later looking very refreshed but also very, very cold. So long as they leave the place as they find it then I have no trouble with their trespass.

The air was heavy and moist from the overnight dew, and the ground still carried the remains of a subtle frost. The trees above were filled with the mindless chatter of birdsong and a multitude of species had already assembled, as one, to greet the first rays of the sun as they crawled across the green and verdant landscape.

I kicked my shoes off and sat on my favourite rock, my toes playing in the long grass at the edge of water. Still clutching my coffee cup, I surveyed the land below as a Monarch might inspect her kingdom, and I was happy.

Of course, I wondered if I should brave the icy cold depths. I always have trepidations about swimming in this body of water. What if something were to go wrong? A heart attack for instance? Who would find me? When would they find me? Would it matter? Then there's the issue of interlopers. Visitors are rare but you never know. Derek is always out and about at this hour - like me, he's an early riser - and, as nice as he is, I really didn't want an audience.

I set my coffee cup down, undid my dressing gown and laid it atop the cold, cold rock. The sudden icy chill of the morning air made my skin positively sizzle. I stood and then advanced a few feet towards the muddy shore line where I paused to study the animal footprints at the water's edge. Deer and foxes are commonplace. Alas, Badgers are rare these days, having been culled to the edge of extinction in the last few decades. I dipped my feet into the turgid shallows and hissed. Uncomfortable for sure but also so very life affirming. I moved further and further out into deeper water until the ice cold chill was up to my knees, where I paused, uncomfortably aware that there was a frigid wind blowing up my ass. I looked down at my startled reflection and whispered "Yeah! Let's do this!".

Truth be told, there's only one way to appreciate a place like The Tarn to the fullest extent and so, with my heart beating against the walls of my chest and every fibre of my logical, sensible self screaming a warning as loud as creation itself, I launched myself into the freezing water until it covered my head.

The cold hit me like a freight train and my conscious mind went into overdrive. I surfaced and shrieked, and then vowed that I would never, ever do this again. I did it again anyway. Then, with my skin alive and my breathing heavy and desperate, I raised my legs and swam slowly to the far end of the pond. Once there, I turned, admired the view - if only for a few seconds - before I made my way back to my favourite rock.

One of the strangest thoughts that is ever-present when swimming in The Tarn is this -

"I wish I'd put knickers on!"

For reasons I don't fully understand, I'm paranoid about something horrid swimming up my bits. I blame David Attenborough, frankly. Way too many nature documentaries in my youth.

I waded into the shallows and grabbed my gown. My skin was alive. Every hair on my body, on my back, my arms and my legs, stood proudly to attention. The sun had risen to the point where its first few rays had broken through the rich green skylights and was caressing my skin.

This is the very definition of utter bliss.

I took a short walk up to the top of the hill and stared into the distance as the Sun's disc pushed the morning mist aside. Yeah, this was special. Nobody to see you. Nobody to pester you. Nobody to get into your head and tell you what to think. I do wonder if my Aunt was a fan of Wild Swimming. Did she ever strip down to her birthday suit and enjoy nature as God intended? I'm not sure. She left no record of such dalliances but I'd like to think she took some small pleasure in these activities.

I knew it couldn't last. I heard footsteps ahead of me and to my left. Derek? Lord, no! I hope not!

Juno? Unlikely. Juno is not an early riser.

Then who?

Mel?

Probably.

At once, the heavy, heavy feeling that goes hand in hand with a friendship betrayed landed atop my shoulders and my mood shifted from one of joyous elation to a soulless, joyless fugue. I returned smartly to the safety of my rock where I wrapped my gown around my shoulders and sat, nervously awaiting the inevitable verbal deluge.

"Hey," she said, trying to bring a positive vibe to the table. "I wondered where you'd gone."

I smiled and decided that a friendly approach was the best approach. "Take a seat," I said. "Sit. Enjoy the silence."

And she did. Somehow, Mel the chatterbox, Mel the source of endless drivel, Gobby Mel, managed to dig down deep enough into her chaotic soul to locate whatever was left of her self-discipline and just sit, quietly staring at the unfolding majesty before us. Eventually, after some minutes had passed, I broke the silence.

"This place," I whispered. "It's special. Spiritual. It's why I come here."

"It's cold," said Mel.

"It is."

"Your hair is wet," said Mel. "Have you been swimming?"

I nodded. "It's very, very cold. Try it, if you're feeling particularly masochistic."

"I've done ice-swimming,"

"Huh? Really?" I grunted, fully aware that this fairly predictable response was so typical of Mel's need to assert herself.

"Helsinki," she said. "And Sweden. Finland was too cold to enjoy. Sweden was nice, though."

"You're welcome to brave The Tarn," I replied. "It's Siberia but not impossible."

Mel stood, hauled her t-shirt over her head and marched, ankle deep, into the water. "Fuck! It is cold!" she hissed but otherwise continued walking.

As I've previously mentioned, Mel was a bit on the skinny side. Not hideously skinny but still... skinny. Her boobs were small, her spine and ribs a little too prominent and whilst her legs weren't exactly pipe-cleaners they weren't far off. I decided that she was one of those lucky souls who is just naturally thin, unlike myself, who has to work out twice a week just to stop my thighs looking like a plate of scabby blancmange.

I smiled. A new day was upon us and I was in more of a forgiving mood. I'm never one to really hold a grudge and Mel had already apologised sincerely for her mistake so I decided to quit giving her a hard time and be a little more laid back, a little more human.

I stood up, dropped my gown and trailed Mel into the water. We met up around ten or so meters from the edge and stood together, hand in hand, staring into the middle distance. Her skin was warm and soft and inviting, and she didn't flinch away when I touched her. That was a surprise. Maybe her apology was as genuine as she insisted. We were a little more than a foot apart when we turned to face each other. She took my free hand and smiled.

"Are we good?"

I nodded once. "Yeah, I think so."

I had a quick look. You would too. 'Quite nice,' I thought. Breasts small and pert. Waist narrow. Hips? She could definitely do with putting on some weight, if only to flesh her out a bit. Pubes? Trimmed and cut back to the basics and certainly not the wild bush fire I was expecting but I could certainly loose myself in there.

We each pulled each other close and then gripped the other's waist. The warmth of her body was intoxicating.

"You have lovely boobs," she whispered.

"I know," I said, giggling.

We stayed that way for around a minute, enjoying the intimacy, enjoying the moment before I let go and stepped backwards. As lovely as this situation was, I didn't want to go any further. Any further would feel like cheating on Juno, and that wasn't going to happen ever.

I slipped down into the water and let the cold wash over and around my bare torso, and then hissed because it really was as cold as an Arctic breeze. Mel followed suit but immediately shot into the air, her face contorted into a wicked grimace.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she shouted.

"Time we went home," I said, pointing at the bank.

"Will Juno be getting worried?"

I laughed. "I doubt it. I doubt Juno will be awake much before ten. She's not a morning person, weekends doubly so."

Mel and I walked hand in hand towards the water's edge as quickly as was feasible given the slippery terrain. Once safe, I slipped my gown over my shoulders and watched Mel cover her bony frame with her t-shirt. I offered her a supporting hand as she tried, in vain, to slide into her knickers without falling. She more or less succeeded though the process wasn't elegant and wasn't ladylike.

We returned to the house by way of the path, ever mindful that, whilst we were decent, the sight of two semi-clad women out and about on a Saturday morning might attract the wrong kind of attention. Mel paused before entering.

"Look," she said. "I need to say this. It's been bugging me."

"What's that?"

"About last night."

"What about last night?"

"I didn't mean to spy on you."

Okay, I thought. That was kind of unexpected.

"I heard some noises," continued Mel. "And I wasn't sure what I was hearing."

"And?"

"And," said Mel.

"And?"

"I didn't know you were a lesbian," whispered Mel.

"Good," I replied. "Because I'm not."

Mel's expression shifted in an instant as we climbed the short flight of stairs up to the kitchen door.

"But!" whispered Mel.

My turn to laugh. "You might have heard us," I whispered. "But then again, I certainly heard you."

"Heard me? Heard me doing what?"

"I heard you," I said in a whisper. "Cracking one out."

Mel's eyes went wide. "Cracking one out? Really?"

"You seemed quite aroused," I said as we entered the kitchen. I set my coffee cup down on the counter top and flicked the kettle on again.

Our conversation ceased rather abruptly as Juno appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Morning, strange people," she whispered. "Did you manage to wash away any of your numerous sins?"

"We did," I replied. "And some of yours, too!"

"Tilly just texted," continued Juno. "She's up for the weekend!"

"Is she? How excellent! I wonder why Derek didn't say anything."

"Didn't know, apparently. Surprise visit. She's coming across later."

'Okay, that could be interesting,' I thought.

"Any plans for today?" I asked the room at large.

Juno smiled. "I have to skip into Hexham," she said. "But otherwise I'm free"

"Did Tilly give any indication of when she was coming over?"

Juno shook her head. "She didn't. Should I say six then?"

"Six is fine!"

Juno sent a couple of texts and then burst out laughing. "You think she wants a rerun of last time?" she said in a whisper.

"Last time?" asked Mel, plainly puzzled.

I smiled and elected not to comment. Time to change the subject, I think. Nevertheless, Juno wandered off with a big fat grin on her face.

Mel just looked puzzled.

4.

We washed and breakfasted before dressing for the day's activities. I dropped Juno at her house and then trailed her Camper Van into town with Mel in the passenger seat.

"I suppose I'd better try to find my car," she said.

"Any idea where you left it?"

Mel shook her head.

"I sense you're on edge," I said. "Something on your mind?"

"On edge? Maybe?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Lots of things," said Mel. "Work, mostly. Spartacus in particular."

"What about Spartacus?" I asked, puzzled.

"I'm not sure if I should say this but," said Mel. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Spartacus suggested that we should have a physical relationship!"

"You mean, he wants to sleep with you?"

Mel nodded.

"And have you?"

Mel shook her head, a guilty smile spreading gently across her face. "No," she said. "But I had considered it."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Lord no! That's one man I definitely wouldn't screw! He's a walking STI!"

"Huh?"

"He's an unrepentant, serial cheat. Always screwing someone. Always. And, one day, he's gonna get caught out. He's going to get fired. He's already been disciplined once for sticking his cock in at least two Post Grads he was mentoring. Post Grads, I should point out, who were reliant on Spartacus for their continued employment, and if that isn't an abuse of position then what is?"

"I see," said Mel. "So you wouldn't recommend a relationship?"

I shook my head. "Truthfully, you'd be better off, physically, mentally and spiritually, by throwing yourself off the roof of the Herschel Building. He told me that his wife has warned him that if he indulges himself again then he'll end up sleeping on a park bench."

Silence.

"And, anyway," I added. "He has a pitifully small dick!"

Mel laughed but then fell silent. "I thought you weren't interested in men?" she said.

"Of course I am. What ever gave you that idea?"

"Because, I saw you two last night," said Mel. "Going at it hammer and tongs. That was my first clue!"

"Anyway," said Mel, shifting the direction of the conversation. "I didn't mean to spy on you!"

My turn to smile. "I didn't mind," I whispered. "I quite like an audience."

Mel burst out laughing.

"I'm not exclusively into women," I said. "Truthfully, I'm not sure what I am."

"I don't go for pigeon holes. Never have. Never will," I added. "I tend to fall for lovely people, and Juno is a lovely person. Really lovely."

"Yeah, she seems fun," said Mel. "I sense she's a little wary of me. Probably sees me as competition."

"Competition?" I whispered then shut up like a clam. Well, talk about ego. Blimey!

"One last question," said Mel. "How do you know Spartacus has a really small dick?"

"Because he whipped it out," I said. "At a party. He was drunk. Very drunk. And he was banging on about something, I really can't remember what because I wasn't paying attention and suddenly there was a huge roar of laughter. I turned around and Spartacus had dropped his pants. Cock out. Balls out."

"No? Really?" hissed Mel.

"Yup, really! Claimed it was a joke. That he was just showing off. Nothing to show off, mate. Pitifully small."

Shopping in Hexham was a little hurried but we got everything we needed and then journeyed back to Juno's house.

I stayed for a couple of hours whilst Mel went in search of her errant vehicle, which was exactly where she'd left it, which is to say, down a cul-de-sac two streets away from the Pub. No naughty boys involved. No need to call Sid the Cop. No need to panic. Not for now, anyway.

Mel dumped her car at the front of Juno's house next to mine. The state of Mel's car has long been the subject of much derision in and around our department. However, you need to actually experience this hideous contraption, up close and personal, to really understand that this thing really is a nightmare on wheels. I well remember the first time she gave me a lift home. Those memories will be difficult to purge. Put it this way, we were scudding down the West Road in Newcastle in the middle of a huge downpour when I looked down and I could see the road flying past between my knees and my feet were getting wet from ground water. Gear changes were an exercise in luck and timing, and the headlights flickered on and off whenever you pressed the brakes. I was, frankly, very glad I'd had way too much to drink before I got into the vehicle. The booze was the only thing that kept me together for the duration.

Skip forward an hour or so. I had thought that Mel would disappear as soon as she'd found that mechanical monstrosity but, alas, no. She trailed me home and then parked up behind me, which meant I had no easy exit until she'd driven off. She followed me indoors and, unbidden, helped me pack away the provisions then settled down to talk. Alas, I'd already scheduled an afternoon of peace and quiet tending to the garden and the chickens. I wasn't about to send Mel packing but when it became apparent that she wasn't going to disappear immediately, I just left her to her own devices and got on with mowing my lawns, front and back.

Juno arrived a little after four and immediately sprang into action in the kitchen. I wondered when (or if) Tilly would show up and, thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long.

Tilly arrived just after five in the most grandiose of styles. It began with a dull rumble, the sound of a heavy mass moving at speed through the tramlines in the wheat field at the back of the house. At first, I thought it was Derek but then I knew he'd be off at the Alwinton Agricultural Show. But no. The dull rumble was, in fact, Tilly driving one of the older John Deeres. The vehicle came to a sudden, jarring halt, the engine stopped and the cab door flew open.

"It's too bloody hot in there," shouted Tilly. "Way too hot."

Tilly stepped down from the cab and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Good to see you," she said in a whisper. I sensed a tear or two in her voice.

"I guess Error Flynn is here," she continued. "How is The Flashing Blade?"

I laughed. "If you mean Juno then yes, Juno is here. And the 'Flashing Blade' is fine, thanks. As you'll soon discover."

"I knew she was," said Tilly. "Is that her car is blocking the drive way?"

"Long story," I said. "But anyway, what are you doing working on a day like this? It must be baking in there."

"It's worse than baking," said Tilly. "Dad had me trimming some of the hedgerows. An easy job. Saves him a couple of hours. But it's hot and uncomfortable and I need to pee."

Juno appeared at the kitchen door a couple of seconds later and her welcome was just as warm.

"Evening Flash," said Tilly, beaming.

Juno laughed. "Evening Squirt!!" she shouted.

Juno wiped her hands, hugged her and held her fast.

"Tilly, this is Mel, a colleague," I said as Mel approached.

"Hey," said Tilly extending her hand. Mel wasn't quite sure what to do or say but she was friendly enough, I guess.

You want to know what Tilly looks like. She's roughly five eight, slim and quite leggy but well toned. Her hair is just a mass of nut brown curls that make her look a lot like Little Orphan Annie. Her face is round and pretty but she looks a bit like an owl because of the huge glasses. The heavy thick overalls tied around her waist completed the "Farm hand from Hell" look. Worse, she genuinely didn't smell very pleasant at all.

"I need to clean up," she said. "Mind if I shower? I brought a change of clothes."

All good, I thought.

There's one more thing about Tilly. I started coming up here as soon as I was settled into my new post at the University, which is to say around six years ago. Tilly was roughly fifteen years old at the time and failing at school, or the school was failing her, I was never quite sure. She had potential. That much was obvious so I began coaching her at weekends and, soon enough, her grades began to improve. Ultimately, she graduated top of her year and even interviewed for Oxford, which she declined (Yes, really!). Tilly went off to University and did well for herself. She comes back during the summer months to help out on the farm and also visits whenever possible.

Here's the truth of the matter. Something happened during her last visit, something between us, and that has a bearing on this tale so... stick with it. Suffice to say, Tilly and I are close. Very close. We have a nice connection. Yes, we've been intimate. It's not a relationship but we do have a history.

On with the tale.

We settled down to dinner as soon as Tilly had changed into something more appropriate than her farmyard overalls. She'd adopted a rather strange and somewhat shapeless one-piece off-white acrylic blend thing that did nothing for her figure. I suspect the only reason she wore it was because you could quite literally step out of it in one swift and carefully executed movement and, in fact, I wondered when she would. I didn't have to wait long either.

Dinner was, predictably, a rather noisy affair. We each had a lot to discuss, principally Tilly's first year at University. Both Juno and I had been on the wine for several hours so all three of us were loud and very excitable.

"The work is hard," said Tilly. "And I struggled for the first few weeks. Then I found a study group and some friends, and we kinda bonded. We help each other, which is nice."

"What about boyfriends?" asked Juno.

"Boys? No," said Tilly. "A girl. She's a friend."

"Oh, do tell," whispered Juno.

Tilly told us about her new 'friend'. I'll keep it short.

"We call her 'Loopy'," said Tilly. "Because she's a bit off the wall. A bit odd. Loopy and I had been to an up-market gallery opening near Kensington. Something to do with Loopy's extended family, I think. The atmosphere was amazing. So sophisticated. So energised. And Loopy and I - we started to feel a little frisky. Something in the food perhaps? I don't know."

"Anyway?" said Juno, plainly eager to learn more.

"We hopped on the Underground back to our digs and we were still a bit high. Just very, very happy and we just went from there. Loopy kissed me on the cheek and that was nice so I kissed her back. We walked home and the pace dropped, and we ended up snogging under a lamppost near the Science Museum."

"And?" said Juno, visibly aroused.

"We found a quiet place and made out a little," said Tilly. "Over the blouse stuff mostly but she did stick her hand down my pants. That was a little unexpected."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Of course I enjoyed it," said Tilly, laughing. "After that, we went back to the flat where we showered together, and that was incredible. Just gorgeous. We were about to pile into her room and take it a little further when our flatmates came back and suddenly everything stopped. That was a pisser, frankly. I was looking forward to getting some action."

"Nothing else happened, eh?"

"She snuck into my room once everyone else had gone to bed but we just cuddled and went to sleep. Nothing more. "

"Do you think they'll be more?" asked Juno.

"Yeah, i think so," said Tilly. "Seems likely. She wanted to do more stuff once we were awake but we both had lectures so nothing happened."

"Got any pictures?" asked Juno.

Tilly grabbed her phone and opened a folder. "Here," she said, handing Juno the phone. "That's Loopy."

Loopy was lovely. Short, blonde hair, big eyes. Tilly scrolled to another page. Here was Loopy with her back to the camera, bare bum and all, and another, lying naked on a bed, her arms concealing her boobs. Then another image. Loopy and Tilly in bed together, cuddling, Tilly on top and smiling. Loopy looking more than a little nervous. One final image of Tilly and Loopy in the shower together, camera held aloft with those two looking up. Nice. Very nice.

"I feel a little faint," said Juno. "Definitely in need of more drink, eh?"

A little over an hour later and we were all pretty much full sails to the wind, even Mel. I did wonder why Mel was still here. Maybe she just wanted to stick around. Maybe she was intrigued by the atmosphere around the table, which was very primal. Did she want to join in?

Juno opened another bottle of wine, a nice Merlot, and poured Tilly a big glass. "You're not driving, are you?" she asked.

Tilly smiled. "Not like this, I'm not!" she said. "I'll crash on the couch, if I may."

"You may," I whispered.

"But just, you know! Nothing like..." whispered Tilly, her voice tailing off into a silly giggle.

"Nothing like what?" whispered Mel.

Juno laughed and shook her head but otherwise declined to comment.

"I need to pee," said Tilly.

"Me too!" said Juno.

"Oh yeah," I thought. I recognised a scheme when I saw one. Plainly something was cooking.

What though?

Tilly and Juno skipped off to the toilet together leaving Mel and I alone.

"Last time? Did something happen?" asked Mel.

I nodded. "Just a silly party game. Got a little out of hand!"

"Pray tell," said Mel, smiling.

"Later," I whispered.

"Now I'm properly intrigued. But then... I can sort of guess."

"And you'd guess correctly," I said, smiling.

Mel shook her head. "Oh Lordy!" she mumbled.

Tilly and Juno soon returned, both looking suitably flushed. Had something just happened in the bathroom? I'm not particularly jealous but I do sort of like to be included in the grand scheme of things.

Juno sat down next to me at the dinner table, plainly very drunk. She then got right in my face, up close and personal, and whispered in my ear at a volume that was designed to be audible to Mel.

"Did you tell Mel what happened last time?"

I could tell from the smile on her face that she was gently teasing, pushing my boundaries.

"I might have mentioned that something happened but I didn't go into details," i replied, as calmly as I could. "Because that would be uncool. Heinously uncool."

"Good," said Juno, winking. "Because we can't have that sort of thing going on again, can we? It's just not right and proper, is it Tilly?"

Tilly burst out laughing and then went very red in the face.

"So how long do you reckon Tilly darling can keep her clothes on tonight?" asked Juno.

"How much has she had to drink? Enough? Not enough?"

"Just about enough," said Tilly.

Mel just sat in abject silence. I genuinely don't think she knew how to respond.

Tilly stood, walked around the back of my chair and laid her hands on shoulders. "Do I have permission?" she whispered.

I nodded. "You do," I said.

"Good," she whispered.

Tilly returned to her seat and sat down with a huge smile on her face. Alas, nothing happened. Not immediately anyway. She just smiled and smiled again but otherwise didn't move.

"I guess we'll have to wait," I thought. Hey ho. Such is life.

However, we didn't have to wait that long.

Plainly finding it difficult to remain upright, Tilly shuffled sideways and lay along the full length of the couch, her arms above her head.

"I am so deliciously drunk," she giggled.

"Drunk and ever-so-ever-so horny!" she added in a whisper.

"How horny?" asked Juno, who was now settled on the floor next to the couch.

"Oh! Very, very horny," replied Tilly.

Juno was smiling from ear to ear. "What would help you?" she asked in a warm, rounded tone.

Tilly sat up and rolled the hideous one-piece off her shoulders and then down her to waist. She lifted her bottom and pulled the whole garment out from under her. The limp and shapeless clothe was then dumped on the floor and all that remained was a tiny pair of micro-knickers that did little contain Tilly's thoroughly rounded pudenda.

Tilly used to have a strange, strange anatomy. Big hips, strong thighs, big shoulders, indeed a rather lovely hour-glass shape all over. However, until recently she had virtually no bosom to speak of. She was completely flat-chested. Not so now. She'd plainly filled out since going up to University and was currently sporting quite a delicious pair of well formed titties.

Juno sat down on the very edge of the couch and took Tilly's hands. She kissed Tilly's wrists and her arms and then kissed Tilly on the mouth. This was incredibly sensuous and I could feel my loins gently buzzing. The game was afoot.

Juno then went to work on Tilly's torso, running her long slender fingers from the base of her chin down through her breasts, over her belly and towards her thighs. She paused momentarily, simply to tease Tilly. Tilly's mouth was open, her eyes closed, her arms raised above her head. Quite, quite delicious.

I kicked off my slippers and wondered when would be polite or appropriate to jump in.

After a minute or so of gently teasing poor Tilly, to the point where her nipples were sticking up like a pair of May Poles, Juno slipped her fingers under the waistband of Tilly's pants and began edging them over her hips. Tilly's eyes were suddenly wide open and staring, her forehead aglow with a myriad of tiny beads.

Juno smiled. "May I?" she asked as softly as she could.

Tilly nodded and Juno pulled very gently so that, little by little, millimetre by millimetre, Tilly was laid bare to the room.

I snapped to my senses in an instant. Unconsciously, my hand had drifted north and I'd spent much of the last five minutes pawing at my tits whilst slowly unbuttoning my shirt, which was now open to my waist. I suddenly came to my senses and snapped out of my rather hypnotic state. Why?

There was an elephant in the room.

Mel.

I looked across at Mel, who was sitting in an armchair on the other side of the room, her legs drawn up under her and a glass of shimmering Merlot in her hand. She appeared somewhat unmoved, as if detached mentally from the unfolding tableau.

I reasoned that Mel had three choices at this point. Firstly, she could quietly retire to a spare room, no shame on her. Getting deep down and dirty as a group is not for everyone and I understand that. Secondly, she could sit and watch, passively, which would be something of a buzz kill, frankly. A little like your maiden aunt watching you take a bath. Thirdly, she could join in the fun or, at the very least, get into the spirit of the moment and get naked. What would she do? I genuinely had no idea.

I turned to face Juno and Tilly. Neither seemed particularly concerned that there was another person in the room. Indeed, Juno had removed her bra and was on the point of removing her t-shirt so they obviously didn't seem to mind an audience though that came as no surprise.

I turned back and stared at Mel. "You like?" I said.

"I do," she replied, smiling.

"Then don't hold back," I whispered.

Juno looked over and smiled. Then her t-shirt came off and it was my turn to smile because Juno's boobs are a work of art. Talk about perfection.

This was heaven. I dragged my jeans down my legs and kicked them into the middle distance. I began to unbutton my shirt and that went much the same way.

"Tilly, Darling," I whispered. "Mel here is feeling left out. Can you assist?"

Tilly's face lit up. Mel shot me a startled glare. Crunch time. Sit and watch or join in? Her decision.

Tilly was standing over Mel a few seconds later, her enormous bush an inch or so from Mel's face. Mel turned in her direction and blushed. She really did. Tilly's bush is incredible and poor Mel really couldn't escape.

At first, Mel didn't really see the funny side but eventually she relented. The other options didn't really look like options at all when you think of it. Sit on your own in a room or grab your car keys and head for home,

Mel smiled and then laughed, and then pretended that she would need a degree of encouragement. Tilly was soon helping her out of her sweatshirt, an ungainly striped affair that was straight out of a 1980's dustbin.

"Never wear stripes," my Mother used to say. "They make you look fat." and maybe that was why Mel was wearing it, in an effort to look a little more substantial than the Stick Insect she was.

Space was getting a little cramped so I pushed the coffee table to one side and, when Juno got up to refill her glass (again!) I yanked on a handle and the sofa immediately became a double bed. I also pulled the curtains across because I didn't want any passing Ramblers to intrude.

Tilly was slowly encouraging Mel out of her clothes whilst Juno and I made the sofa bed a little more conducive to an evening spent wrestling under the covers. I did note that Mel was now topless, which was progress. Juno was sitting crosslegged on the sofa bed and watching the scene unfold. I lay down next to her and she soon followed my lead. Then she was soon on top of me, her legs astride my hips, her ass waving in the air.

I looked across and Mel and Tilly. Mel was now on her feet as Tilly slowly unbuttoned her jeans. Mel looked across at me and smiled though it was a nervous, frightened smile.

Then her knickers came down. Tilly carefully unhooked them fromMel's ankles and then planted a delicate kiss on Mel's belly. Mel gently lowered her glass and set it down on the nearest table before she shut her eyes and groaned. I was happy.

Alas, that's when Mel chickened out. Her nerves went.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This isn't for me."

Thereafter, she downed the last of her drink and scuttled off in the direction of... I don't know where her bony ass waving in the wind... She didn't even stop to grab her clothes. She just left. The last I saw of her, she was sliding into a big heavy coat and heading towards the front door.

I looked at Juno, who looked and Tilly, and we all, collectively, shrugged our shoulders. So it goes, I guess.

"Bit of a drama Llama," whispered Tilly. "Looks the type."

"Na, it's just not for everyone," I replied because it isn't.

Now, as harsh as it may seem, I wasn't going to let Mel screw up my evening. Consequently, Juno, Tilly and I just resumed our previous adventures over on the sofa bed. These are always fun affairs. We don't just go at it hammer and tongs. We take our time. One person will become the subject and the other two will tend to her needs.

Tilly went first. I'd already secreted away our special toolkit, which consists of various bits of fruit, ice cubes, feathers, oils, lotions, scents and chocolate. It's a full-on sensory explosion designed to induce a state of Euphoria. Generally speaking, it works, so long as the subject is open and available for such experiences.

It's starts with a blindfold. Juno tied the thin silk covering over Tilly's eyes and then fixed her hands and ankles in place with several lengths of silk rope. This is the specialist stuff. It doesn't cut or cause abrasions. Once secured, we set about anointing Tilly with various oils, all gently warmed to just above room temperature.

Juno placed a small strawberry (hand-picked that afternoon by yours truly) next to Tilly's mouth. She flicked the fruit with her tongue and, sensing that all was safe, nibbled gently at the soft flesh.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? Well, is it. However, Sir Isaac Newton taught us that every action has an equal and opposite reaction so for every pleasurable action in this world, there's an equal and opposite reaction.

Pain.

And when pleasure and pain are combined, the results are often explosive.

I took an ice cube from the cooler bag and let the cold, cold water drip on Tilly's nipples. She recoiled, as I knew she would, but then gasped as the sensation became deeper and stronger. I than ran the ice cube from the base of her neck all the way down her body, between her breasts, across her torso, over her belly and towards her pubes. She hissed and tensed every time I paused. I left a trail of ice water in my wake, which Juno kissed away as gently as she could.

We continued the ice therapy all the way down to Tilly's toes where Juno was waiting at the foot of the bed. Juno, kneeling, took Tilly's right ankle in hand and raised her leg so that it was on the level with her shoulders and then kissed Tilly's calves and the back of thighs until the poor girl began to moan out loud.

Tilly spread her legs are far as her bindings would permit and, even from my vantage point, I could see that the girl's pussy lips were pouting and swollen, and I so wanted to explore further.

Juno removed the last of her clothing and then made her way back up the bed. I dipped another strawberry in a silky smooth chocolate sauce mix and let Tilly lap at that gorgeous combination until there wasn't a single trace left behind. I then dabbed a small amount of chocolate atop both of Tilly's breasts and then added a drop or two of honey to the mix. Juno adores this combination even though it's apt to leave the bedclothes rather sticky for the remainder of the session.

Juno spent a few minutes lapping at the chocolate / honey mixture whilst Tilly and I gently kissed to the point where Tilly was writhing on the bed and pulling hard on her bindings. She was already sweating profusely too so I allowed a few drops of ice cold melt water to drip between her open lips, which seemed to satisfy her immediate need.

So this session was a mix of pleasure and pain. I'm a real fan of gentle flagellation, ideally with something small and well polished. A Ping-Pong bat is just about all I can take without screaming like a little bitch but a length of leather strap artfully applied really does push me into the Stratosphere. Poor Tilly really wasn't expecting the lash. I served up a dozen or so gentle strokes across her thighs, her belly and her shoulders to the point where her skin was absolutely sizzling and Tilly was on a real endorphin high.

I'm not a selfish lover so I shuffled sideways and let Juno take charge. Meanwhile, I sat at the top of the bed, knees bent, my legs spread wide and gently touched myself until I was more than a little wet.

Juno, meanwhile, had turned to a small toy we acquired some months ago but have not yet had an opportunity to try on Tilly - a Wartenberg Wheel. For those unfamiliar with this device, it consists of a small steel wheel with ten or twelve needle-sharp spokes at the end of a six inch wooden handle. Applied directly to unprepared skin, the feelings are deeply unpleasant and painful. Hence its one-time use as a medieval torture instrument. When applied to prepared skin and by someone with training then the results are transformative, and since both Juno and I took the appropriate classes, we're both in a position to know what to do with the device.

Suffice to say, Juno whispered in Tilly's ear "Prepare for something new and unexpected,". Thereafter, she rolled the spokes across Tilly's belly as gently as she could. Tilly's reaction was one of shock. She didn't understand and let us know rather loudly.

Juno backed off and helped Tilly remove her blindfold.

"Oh, right," Said Tilly. "It's nice but kinda hard to process. Bit of warning next time, eh?"

Together, we rolled Tilly on her tummy and then gave the wheel another try, this time down her spine and over her buttocks. The result was an instant hit and Tilly was soon begging for mercy whilst arching her back and bucking at her bonds. Yup, that hit the spot.

With Tilly suitable inverted, Juno got down between her thighs and went to work on Tilly's bum. Tilly has always been fond of a little back door fun, mostly because it's still a bit of a taboo area but she's taken to it rather better than we expected. Juno stuck her head between Tilly's thighs and went to work. I was tempted to join in but I had a better idea.

Tilly was lying on her tummy with her head held high, supported by her elbows. I figured that there was just enough room to slide between Tilly and the back of the sofa bed and see if I could get a little pussy action myself. Tilly happily obliged.

"That is so freekin' horny," whispered Juno when she saw Tilly with her head buried between my thighs. "Lemme get my camera."

I'm not normally a fan of cameras in the bedroom because they get out of hand too quickly but I was happy to permit one or two pictures so long as they were deleted straight away and, if not straight away then fairly pronto. Certainly before any backups are made.

Tilly went to work on my pussy with a mixture of her tongue and her fingers whilst Juno recorded the event up close and personal. The addition of the camera certainly pushed me along. An orgasm began to build within thirty seconds and I was properly buzzing about two minutes later. Who am I kidding? I didn't have a stop watch. I didn't time the whole adventure. All I remember was the "Hey! Wow!" moment and I was out of my head in seconds. Colours, sounds, sensations. The whole works.

All of these sensations came at me at once but not like an express train. Instead, they approached slowly and artfully, a little like one of those lovely old Victorian-era puffers that loom out of the morning mist. Tilly didn't let up until I'd hit the very peak and then, like the experienced Pro she's become, she backed off and waited until the Tsunami had crashed down and swept me away.

Amazing.

Juno kindly waited until I'd returned to this side of reality before she set the camera down and shuffled further up the bed. "My turn," she whispered.

Tilly and I then took turns serving up a bouquet of surprises. Juno is massively into 'Shrimping', the art of savouring toes, especially when she's blindfolded. She also enjoyed rope work at which Tilly excels. Tilly bound her to the sofa bed's legs and pulled out the tin of Whipped Cream that had been left over from last time. I immediately said "No!" rather more firmly than I'd initially intended because, well, because I meant it.

"Never again!" I said, as strongly as I could because it took me four days to get the stink of that vile stuff out of the sofa bed following it's last outing.

Instead, Tilly giggled and put the can back, before she pulled out a collection of rather more pleasant skin lotions. These are the pussy/ass friendly versions. They don't cause major irritation twenty minutes after you've finished. Together, Tilly and I worked them into Juno's skin and down her body until she was glistening and, at the appropriate moment, Tilly slid down the bed and gave Juno the kind of tonguing that is the stuff of legends. Juno wrapped her legs around Tilly' shoulders whilst I took a couple of pictures. I did smile when Juno's pubes got caught up Tilly's nose and she started to sneeze. Occupational hazard, I guess.

I contented myself with stroking Juno's breasts, carefully avoiding the nipples because they become too sensitive if over stimulated and quickly bring about an end to the proceedings. To be avoided.

Tilly flipped herself around into a rather delicious sixty nine with Juno on the bottom and off they went again. Quite a nice view from where I was sitting, frankly. When the opportunity arose, I pushed a couple of fingers up against Tilly's vulva and wondered what would happen. They abruptly disappeared, that's what happened. Did I say she was wet?

In time, both Juno and Tilly found themselves thoroughly spent and utterly satiated and, soon enough, we were all tucked up together under the duvet on the point of sleep.

"Shouldn't we at the very least check up on Mel?" asked Juno.

I hopped out of bed and took a walk upstairs. I'd heard noises up there a little earlier and, sure enough, there was Mel asleep in the guest room.

"She's okay," when I rejoined the party. "She's upstairs and crashed out in the Guest room."

Juno shook her head and pulled the duvet around her neck "Did she enjoy the show?"

Tilly was a little taken aback. "She was watching?"

"What do you think?" I said. "She was certainly enjoying herself when I last looked."


Juno smiled. "Well, good. I hope she got off properly."

"She did, and I'm pretty sure she's up there now, pretending to sleep whilst diddling herself."

"I feel kinda bad," said Tilly. "Should we at least help her?"

"Maybe in the morning," I said. That was the last thing I said before I fell asleep.

5.

I woke early, as usual. Tilly and Juno were still asleep but I could hear noises in the kitchen. Mel, obviously.

I couldn't be bothered to slide into anything appropriate - my house, my rules - so just wandered into the kitchen in my birthday suit. Mel was, rather predictably, a little taken aback by my lack of attire. What did she make of our hedonistic night of Sapphic debauchery? Did I care? No, I didn't. She had a chance to do something different, something out of the ordinary, something she'd remember for the rest of her life but, well, she didn't. Her loss.

My philosophy has always been "Try something once. If you don't enjoy it then don't do it again. But you won't know until you try."

Still naked, I boiled the kettle, poured myself a cup of coffee and opened up the Conservatory. Thereafter, I went to sit in the Sun for a couple of minutes before I threw open the doors and welcomed the new day. Hangover? Yeah, a little buzzy but not unpleasant.

The garden was utter bliss, more so because I was barefoot and there was a chill wind blowing from the South East.

There's one ritual that I thoroughly enjoy first thing in the morning and that's to drop to the floor and roll around on the grass in the morning dew. This is an old Eastern European trick that I learned from a Latvian lady friend who stayed over few years ago. It's supposed to be brilliant for your skin and I believe her. Apart from that, it feels utterly exhilarating.

I checked the lawn over carefully for anything unpleasant and then lowered myself on to the ice cold grass. Yeah, that hit the spot. I rolled over one side to the other and then back again for around two minutes and then lay there, staring into the clear blue sky until the cold worked its way into my bones.

Of course, Mel was watching from the Conservatory door but seemed unimpressed. "For fuck's sake," I said to myself. "Will you stop being so fucking judgemental and just enjoy your fucking life."

That said, I'm glad I didn't let that little thought leak out into the real world. Better to keep to myself, I thought even if it held more than just a grain of truth.

I quickly picked myself up, grabbed my coffee cup and went indoors. In passing, I said "You should try it! Does wonders for your skin!" but Mel didn't respond. Indeed, it was more of the same. A disapproving scowl and a somewhat derogatory raising of the eyebrow.

"Well, fuck you," I thought. "Life is to be enjoyed not endured."

Then words of Samuel Johnson came to mind "Human life is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured, and little to be enjoyed."

Yeah, that's Mel in a nutshell.

Juno appeared still looking half asleep and wearing her usual scruffy old t-shirt that did little to conceal her lower regions. This is not the sort of garment you wear when the Postman calls because you can see her pussy poking out the bottom. Not that I mind, of course.

In her wake came Tilly like a veritable hurricane. "I am so late," she said. "I am really gonna get busted for saying out all night!"

"Who's gonna bust you, Sweets?" asked Juno, startled.

"My Mum!"

Juno paused. "Isn't she off with your Dad somewhere?"

Tilly caught herself and stopped, and then realised her mistake.

"You'll be fine so long as you locked the front door?" said Juno. "You did lock the front door, didn't you?"

"Yeah, of course it did," said Tilly. "Or I think did."

Mel, the wet blanket, came in from the Conservatory.

Juno didn't pay her much attention and Tilly was too busy trying to find her overalls to worry about Mel's sour mood but at least she said "Hi!"

I was, of course, fully decent by then so Mel had no real cause for complaint other than she couldn't really see why everyone was so enthusiastic about getting out of bed at such an unhealthy hour.

Breakfast was a hurried affair. Tilly had to be out within minutes and Juno suddenly remembered that she had a nine o'clock session.

Juno and Tilly were soon off on their travels and I was left with my thoughts.

At length, Mel found me in my study. "I'm sorry I bailed on you last night," she said in a sheepish whisper. "I felt uncomfortable and, truth be told, I'm not all that good with intimacy. Not in front of strangers, anyway."

"Hey, it's okay.," I replied. "No harm done. It's not for everyone."

"Truth be told," she continued. "I'd have been okay if it was just two people, me and another. Three? Possibly, if the right person was involved but four? No, that's just too many."

I thought for a couple of seconds and said "Is that a hint?"

Mel nodded. "I guess so," she replied, her voice trailing off to nothing. She looked desperately sad and I genuinely felt sorry for her. I really did.

"I'm running a bath," I said. "You can join me if you wish."

And that's what happened. No words. No dialogue. No discussion. Thirty minutes later, Mel and I were sitting side by side, our legs hanging over the edge of the bath, both clutching a hot cup of coffee and enjoying the moment. We talked, mostly about nothing in particular, but nothing of any consequence happened. The moment passed and that was it.

Or so I thought.

Downstairs, both Mel and I were lounging around in a pair of overly long bathrobes, content to just enjoy the first rays of the new day before Mel was under way. I was looking forward to a slow day filled with too much coffee, a light lunch and an afternoon on the couch with my red pen, and if that didn't suit then I'd head down the hill towards Juno's Yurt and maybe help out with her classes.

Shortly after nine thirty, I happened to look out of the conservatory window and I could see, far off in the distance, another Hot Air Balloon. As I said at the top of this piece, those things used to be relatively commonplace thirty years ago. Their popularity waned and I think the company went bust. No idea why but to see two in as many days? That was a thrill. I pointed out the lumbering aerial leviathan to Mel, who was quickly on her feet and equally intrigued, especially as the path of the balloon seemed to be heading in our direction.

I'd always promised myself a trip in a balloon even if they thought of hanging a mile above the English countryside in nothing more than a glorified Laundry basket scared the life out of me.

Twenty minutes later, I'd Googled the Ballon Company and started making inquires about booking a flight. There was a waiting list - no surprise there - but there were several potential vacancies over the next months so I paid a deposit and added a couple of rough dates to my diary.

By this time, the balloon plus its passengers were roughly half a mile away and about five hundred feet above the ground, give or take.

Yeah, you're ahead of me. You've probably already guessed what happened next. The 'Silly Factor' stepped up a gear and, seconds later, I looked at Mel and Mel looked at me, and we both shot out into the garden to wave as the balloon went overhead. I could see passengers inside the basket slung beneath the main canopy. Several waved back. One or two shouted a greeting.

The wind carried the balloon slightly to the south of my garden so we weren't directly beneath it.

And then I did it. I threw off my bathrobe, hit the grass and made like a Starfish. Mel stood a little to my left and immediately burst out laughing. Seconds later, she was beside me, also minus her bathrobe and, together, we did horizontal star jumps, much to the delight of the balloon's occupants, many of whom called and shouted and waved and generally got all excited.

Mel and I lay there as the balloon passed over head, both of us laughing like idiots.

"You know they've got cameras?" said Mel.

"Like I care!"
"We'll probably end up on the front page of The Guardian!" said Mel, plainly concerned.

"That's one way to get a reputation in academia!" I replied and that's when i realised I'd completely forgiven Mel for her earlier indiscretion. We were friends again and that's all that mattered.

The balloon went on its merry way, as balloons do, and we quickly returned to a version of sanity we both deemed comfortable.

Twenty minutes later, Mel was dressed and heading for the door, and I was just glad to have the house to myself again. I spent the rest of the day tidying and marking essays, and wondering what to do with my problematic academic paper. I found the most up-to-date copy on my laptop, read it through, sent a copy to the printer and went to work.

It was dark outside and I was ravenous by the time I'd finished but at least the job was done. I took the paper through a lengthy and very rigorous review process and soon found a whole new area to explore that was fresh, exciting and different. Better still, one or two of Mel's suggestions seemed appropriate after all so I updated the script accordingly and pressed the button marked "Save".

I was happy. As a reward I stayed up late and spent a joyous hour or so lying on the lawn, watching satellites traverse the inky blackness beneath a large wooden blanket that still smelled faintly of Juno.

Two years later (September 2026)

The paper was published early in 2025. Of course, I removed Mel's name from the title page and added it where it should have been in the first instance, in the list of contributors. The paper was generally well received by my peers and resulted in several invitations to appear at a conference in Berlin. That was fun. More on that later, I think.

Despite our obvious problems, Mel and I are still friends - until the next time, that is. Juno is still half mad and Tilly is just as gorgeous, and we still see each other as often as our work permits.

Alas, poor Spartacus. The world has become a sour and uncomfortable place. He was placed on administrative leave earlier this year, pending yet another inquiry and, although he has yet to be formally disciplined, his position was advertised in the trade press a couple of months ago. Maybe I'll apply for the vacancy? Maybe not? Who knows?