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OUT OF MIND by Marianne Nettes The ESP experiments at the University of Seacombe weren't going too well, until they started to use the curvaceous Tracey Miller as a guinea-pig. Dr Goodchild was one of the few men on campus who wasn't trying to get inside Tracey's knickers, but as it turns out, he was the only one who, quite literally, succeeded. What a shame someone had to die on the way! This is a work of fiction, and all people, places and events are entirely imaginary. If some UK readers feel they recognise the University of Seacombe, located on the English coast, I can assure them this is entirely coincidental. MN CHAPTER 1 - A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE Occasionally, I guess, we all wonder what death will be like - the feelings as we pass from one world into nothingness, or, depending upon our religious convictions, from one world to another. For the first time ever, I thought I knew. I'd been unconscious for just a few seconds, before my dreamlike experience started. Except that I knew this was no dream. This was for real- as real as life and death. I knew I was still floating face down in the water, my arms outstretched on either side of my head, and my feet trailing down into the depths beneath. I sensed, rather than felt, my long, blonde hair splayed out around my head like a halo, and my outsized breasts which had drifted apart and were now nuzzling under my armpits, like a pair of partly inflated water-wings. I felt completely at peace, as much as I felt anything at all. The water was completely still, neither cold nor warm, and I could feel nothing against my skin. Only seconds ago, there had been bright images flashing in front of my eyes, but now there was only blackness. Of all the senses, only my hearing was active, and I could hear harp music, as though from angels, welcoming me to heaven, but still with that unreal quality, as though being played through cotton wool That damned harp music! Dr Beckham loved it, and played it at every opportunity, even though he knew I hated it. His voice came through the headphones, now, 'OK Tracey. That's the end of the session. You've done really well, today. Excellent results.' I could hear the excitement in his voice as he continued, 'Dawn will help you out of the tank. You can get dressed, then I'd be grateful if you could come and see me in my office.' I felt I should know why he wanted to see me, but the reason just alluded me. I was still wondering what it could be, when Dawn's hand firmly grasped mine, and with that, my contact with reality was re-established. I lifted my head clear of the water, but was still in total darkness until Dawn released the straps securing the mask over my head, and light came flooding in, dazzling me for a second. I glanced up at Nurse Dawn Tomlinson, as she knelt down at the top of the immersion tank, and slowly pulled me towards the ladder at the side. She gave me a nice smile and, as she bent even lower towards me, I realised she had on no bra beneath her nurses tunic, and I could see almost down to her navel. She had small breasts, no bigger than the fleshy mounds on the palms of my hands, with tiny, brown nipples, and an "Oh, so slim" waist. My own figure, in comparison, could most sympathetically be described as voluptuous - I had a huge wobbling bottom, and breasts so large that virtually every male on the university campus would get an erection at 200 yards. How I envied her slender body, and the ability to wander anywhere on the campus without being eyeballed or catcalled by every jerk in sight. 'I often get drenched through when subjects climb out of the tank. Much easier to simply change my tunic, than all my underwear, as well.' She had followed the direction of my eyes, and wanted to reassure me there was nothing unseemly about her dress, or lack of it. I guessed it was often necessary, being a nurse and a lesbian, to show that she kept a professional distance between the two. The thought surprised me. How long had I known she was a lesbian? I certainly hadn't consciously noticed it before, but I suppose I must have been aware of it for ages. I hurried to reassure her, 'I was admiring your splendid figure. You're so lucky to be able to walk around without a bra - in fact, without it even being obvious that you haven't got a bra on.' She wrinkled her nose, in a quite appealing way. 'Maybe, but I often wish I had a more shapely figure.' She smiled at me again. 'With your figure, I bet you have plenty of choice of partner, whatever your orientation?' She raised her voice at the end, to make the last few words a question, rather than a statement. I was about to say I was heterosexual, absolutely and completely and no way was I into lesbian sex, but then I thought, 'No, why should I? Let her guess.' 'Yes,' I said, and smiled back at her. She wrapped a towelling robe around my shoulders, and as she led me towards the changing cubicle, she said, 'Dr Beckham said he wanted to talk with you, before you go.' She swished the curtain aside for me to enter. 'Thanks,' I said. 'Do you know what it's about?' I knew it would all come flooding back into mind, as soon as she told me. 'I think he may want you to do another experimental session, this evening. We don't have anyone booked in so far.' That certainly wasn't the reason at the back of my mind, but still I couldn't sort out what it was. 'Well, he can think again,' I said. 'No way do I work in the evenings. I shall be in the students' union bar.' Then I added, almost as an afterthought, 'Will you be there?' She gave me a surprised look. 'I could be,' she said, 'although I don't normally go in the students' union. I finish here at nine.' 'See you just after nine, then,' I said, and I smoothly slid the changing-room curtain between us. ******************** 'Dr Beckham,' I said. 'You wanted to see me.' He glanced up from his computer, and hurriedly clicked a key to blank out the screen - too late to prevent me seeing, reflected in the glass panel behind him, the picture of a large-breasted, naked woman. 'But not,' I thought with a smirk, 'as large-breasted as me.' 'It was good of you to come,' he said, his eyes drooling over my boobs. He gesticulated at the chair in front of his desk. 'Have a seat.' 'Thanks,' I said, and I made certain my tits gave a nice bounce as I flopped into it. My blouse was unbuttoned down as far as the top of my bra and, as I left the dressing room, I'd made certain my boobs were pushing out the top of it. Dr Beckham stared, mesmerised at the sight. I smiled at him, to no effect - his eyes were elsewhere, so I leaned forward, as though to hear what he said, but of course, in reality, to provide him with an even better view. 'Did you want something, Dr Beckham?' I gently asked. I almost heard him whisper to himself, 'Oh, yes please!' Instead he glanced up at my eyes, and said, 'I've told you before, please call me Colin.' 'OK, Colin.' I gave him another nice smile, but it was wasted. His eyes were locked on my cleavage. 'What exactly did you want?' He came to with a start. 'Yes, er, sorry. I, er, wanted to tell you that the experiments were going very well. You're an excellent guinea-pig, and I... that is Dr Goodchild and I, would like to increase the amount of testing we're doing with you. Naturally, we'll continue to pay on a per test basis, so that should give you a sizeable increase to your income. What do you say?' It was time to play hard to get. I appeared to hesitate. 'Well, I'm not certain Dr Beckham... Colin. I mean, isn't it dangerous?' 'Dangerous?' God knows where I'd got the idea from, but it seemed to strike home, because he pulled his eyes away from my tits, and stared me in the face. 'What makes you think it might be dangerous?' I was hoping he wouldn't ask that, because I hadn't a clue. 'Well, Dr B... Colin. With these waves you're using.' I searched my brain, for something to add, and said, 'Gravity waves.' 'Gravity waves?' My face had his total attention now. He stared at me, searching to see how much I knew, and his voice was quite aggressive as he asked, 'Who told you about gravity waves?' I could hardly tell him I just made it up. I shrugged and pretended total innocence. 'I don't know, Dr... Colin. Someone in the student bar must have mentioned it. I can't remember who.' 'It's bar room gossip? This is supposed to be a secret, for heavens' sake. You must swear not to tell anyone else, whatsoever, and if you find out who's spreading these stories, you must tell me. Do you understand?' 'Colin.' I leaned forward again, and just for an instant, his eyes flicked downwards, and then back to my face. 'The student bar is full of gossip and stories. I don't know what to listen out for, unless you tell me. And I do think you owe me an explanation about what you're doing to my body with gravity waves, especially if you're asking me to increase the level of testing.' His eyes flicked downwards, and this time my breasts held his attention, as I took an extra big breath, making them heave. 'I suppose you're right,' he said. 'But you must promise not to tell a living soul. Do you swear?' 'Of course I do, Colin. My lips are totally sealed. I'll tell no-one.' Except, of course, for my best friends Natasha and Clare, and Simon would be fascinated, as well, but I didn't say that aloud. My words appeared to satisfy him, for he gave a single glance upwards at my face, and then his eyes flicked downwards as he commenced his narration. 'I'm sure you realised right at the start that we were essentially doing simple ESP tests, but under rather different background conditions. By putting you and the other subject into immersion tanks, we were depriving you both of all external senses. The two tanks are isolated from each other, and from the rest of the world, and we took particular care to design the face and head masks so they fitted comfortably, and the air supply was totally silent. So you were both effectively in two completely black holes. OK?' I nodded. Even though people believed I was one of the classic dumb blondes, I'd pretty well worked that out for myself. OK, Natasha had told me that scientists had been trying to prove the existence of Extra Sensory Perception for years, without conclusive proof, and Simon had suggested that if the experimental subjects were deprived of all outside stimulus, then the result would be much cleaner than if lots of other things are going on at the same time, but I had put the two things together. 'In your visor,' Dr Beckham continued, 'we displayed pictures and played sounds, whilst keeping our other subject in total darkness and silence. But we instructed the other subject to speak into the microphone, telling us of whatever images or sounds came into their minds.' That had been obvious too. In front of me had been flashed pictures, of triangles, squares and circles, and more recently, playing cards. Sounds had been played in my ears - perhaps water gurgling down a plughole, wood being sawn, or classical music. 'Go on,' I encouraged. 'You see, Dr Goodchild and I had this theory that we could substantially improve ESP success rates by exactly synchronising the natural rhythms of our two subjects' minds.' Another glance at my face, before dropping his eyes to my boobs, again. For some reason, it seemed easier for him to talk to my breasts than my face. 'We thought we could synchronise their rhythms by subjecting them both to identical gravity waves.' 'Colin, this is where you lose me. What exactly is a gravity wave?' He shrugged. 'It doesn't really matter. To be honest, I don't know much about the physics, but then in order to use a mobile phone, you don't need to know about electromagnetic waves. The key issue is to understand that all objects exhibit gravitational pull.' He picked up a glass paperweight on his desk, and held it aloft. 'Imagine this is the earth. Because the earth is so large, there's a very strong gravitational force, and we are all held on the earth's surface by that force.' He waved the paperweight again. 'But if this is really a paperweight and not the earth, it still exerts a gravitational force, only an extremely small one - a force that's so small you need incredibly sensitive instruments to measure it. The magnitude of that force is dependent upon two factors - the mass of the object, and the distance from it. 'Dr Goodchild and I decided we could generate oscillating gravity waves by mounting heavy weights onto the rim of a vertical flywheel. We spin the flywheel, and place our two subjects immediately on either side of the rim, so they both receive the same pulses of gravitational force, as the weights go whizzing past. We actually make it a bit more complex than that, by using two flywheels - one above the other - so the combined effect of the gravitational force is to produce a twisting force inside their heads. We quite literally put the subjects' minds into a spin - with the speed of the spin precisely controlled by the speed of the flywheels.' He actually looked me in the face as he continued. 'So you can see, there's nothing at all dangerous about what we're doing here. The apparatus was constructed very carefully by the University Engineering Department, and they are absolutely confident of its safety.' 'And that improves our extra sensory perception?' He wasn't going to distract me that easily away from the experiment. A look of caution suddenly crossed over his face. 'Well,' he said. 'It's too early to tell, definitively, but it does appear as though there's a modest increase.' OK, so I'm not bright, but then I'm not that stupid either. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. He was desperate - not only to bury his head between my tits, but also to use me as a subject for his experiments. I fluttered my eyelids at him. 'If you want me to do more tests, Colin, you'll need to speak to my course tutor, Dr Jacks, and get me excused from some of the lectures and tutorials.' How I hated those boring lessons.' 'Er... I'm sorry, Tracey. I have spoken with Dr Jacks, and he's already concerned about you missing so many sessions...' Damn, I thought. On the other hand, the money would certainly come in useful. 'Extra testing during the day is a no-no, I'm afraid,' he continued. 'But we were hoping you would do evening sessions with us - say four evenings per week.' 'I'm really not keen on working in the evening,' I told him, and I had another thought which might push up the price he'd pay. 'I'd need to pay taxi fares to get to and from my lodgings, late at night. It's really quite dangerous travelling by bus, you know.' I didn't think it wise to tell him I regularly made the bus journey in the early hours of the morning after late night partying, whilst almost legless from drink and drugs. 'Oh, I understand that, Tracey. But I think I can do better than that. A room has become vacant in Regent's. I think I could swing things so that you could get it.' Of course! That was what he wanted to talk about. A room in Regent's Tower! In case you don't know, John Regent was a Victorian industrialist from Bradford, who upon his retirement to Seacombe, built the folly on the hill above the town. It looked for all the world like a fairy-tale castle, with turrets, mock arrow slits and battlements. But after it had been bequeathed to the local council in the 1960s, the folly had stood empty for decades. Ten years ago, it had been selected to be the centre of the site for the new university, and the campus had been built all around it. The folly had been totally renovated and turned into high quality accommodation, and was now called Regent's Tower, in honour of its designer. It had the advantage that it was almost immediately next to the students' union, and the sports centre. It was regarded as a highly prestigious residence, and normally reserved for staff, or favoured post-graduates. Undergraduates rarely got a look in. What wouldn't a girl do for that opportunity? 'Oh, Dr Beck... Colin.' I leant right forward to show him how keen I was, as well as what would definitely be on offer if he came up with the goods. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, again, but that was really wasted for his eyes had moved downwards, again. 'It would be marvellous if you could get me a room in Regent's. I'd be ever so grateful.' I put a lot of stress on the 'ever so'. He looked pleased, but a bit suspicious, as though he couldn't believe his luck. 'Well, the Bursar's coming to see me shortly. I'll get the key off him and we can look it over sometime. In fact,' he paused, as though he had only just thought of it, 'why not come back here at about eight pm, and we can go and check the room over.' 'That's an excellent idea,' I said. 'And at the same time, we can also work out exactly what you want me to do for you.' God, I was laying it on thick. He still looked suspicious though, and I didn't know whether to come straight out with it and tell him I would screw his balls off for a week if he got me a room in Regent's. In the end, I decided it would make me seem like a prostitute, and it might put him off, so I kept quiet. I knew I'd made my point. ********************* It wasn't until I left Dr Beckham, that I realised how long he'd kept me talking. I currently lived in lodgings, in Seacombe old town, which took about twenty minutes on the bus. Unfortunately, the terminus where the bus waits, was across the campus - in fact, right next to Regent's - and I had to dash to try to catch the 5.15. I was still over fifty yards away when the bus driver started the engine, and closed the doors, and I had to sprint like mad. I had my student bag clutched under my left arm, and with my right, I tried to stop my boobs flying about so wildly that they struck me under the chin and knocked me out. I'd had to do this before, and I'd developed this kind of technique where I grasped my left tit in my right hand, and pressed my elbow over my right tit. It worked after a fashion, but it was incredibly ungainly. If only I had a figure like Dawn's. The driver opened the door as I drew level, and I clambered on board, my breath coming in short gasps. I stood doubled up for a few seconds, until I realised the driver was staring down my cleavage, then I stood up, as straight as my aching lungs would allow. 'Got your fare, luv?' 'Hang on,' I said, noticing the clock on the bulkhead. 'It's only 5.10. You don't depart for another five minutes. Why did you start the engine and close the doors?' The driver smirked at me. 'I just wanted to see what it was like when you ran, love, and I can honestly say, I haven't seen a better sight all day.' I was still fuming when, a whole ten minutes later, he started off with a lurch which almost threw an elderly woman off her seat. Bastard! I had a good mind to... The chatter of voices in the bus was suddenly subdued, and a mist appeared in front of my eyes. I tried to raise my hand to rub them, but my arm wouldn't move. It was as though I was in a dream, again, and was floating, floating... ***************** I was still floating face down in the water, my arms outstretched on either side of my head, and my feet trailing down deep into the water beneath. The water was completely still, neither cold nor warm, and I could feel nothing against my skin. Just seconds ago, there had been the image of the bus in front of my eyes, and the chatter of people - but now there was only blackness and silence. I gave it a minute or so, just to regain my composure, before I spoke. 'Colin? Are you still there?' 'Graham! I was starting to get worried.' His voice came loudly in my headphones, but he didn't sound at all worried - more as though he was jubilant. 'Dawn's been keeping an eye on you, and she's currently right on the side of the immersion tank, immediately above you. Are you ready to get out?' 'Please. The sooner the better.' I felt Dawn's hand firmly grasp mine, and I lifted my head clear of the water, but I was still in total darkness until Dawn released the straps securing the mask over my head, and light came flooding in, dazzling me for a second. She was kneeling down at the top of the tank, and she slowly pulled me towards the ladder at the side. But there was no repeat of the nice smile she had given Tracey, and she kept her body upright so there was no peeping down the front of her nurses tunic to view that wonderful body. No pleasant chit-chat, either - just a simple 'Are you alright, Dr Goodchild?' Unfortunately, she would never give me the slightest encouragement that some day she might become heterosexual, and satisfy the lust of a rampant male who fancied her like crazy. I couldn't blame her, of course. We are what we are. She was turned on by women, and I was turned on by her. I was naked as I got out of the tank, but for all the attention I got, I might have been wearing a frogman's suit, in fact, I might as well have been a laboratory frog. After I'd changed, I walked along to Colin's office. This time, he didn't bother to clear the computer screen of the naked beauty, who by now was impaled on the huge cock of a West Indian guy. 'What took you so long?' he asked. 'Did you get any hint of retention, after Tracey got out of the tank?' I nodded, but since he was still staring at the naked girl, who in the next picture was gobbling off the guy, he didn't notice my nod, so I put it into words. 'Yes,' I said, 'I retained the link with Tracey's mind after she got out of the tank.' He looked up at me then. 'Great. Do you know, I reckon I might hit lucky with Tracey tonight. After I made the offer of her moving into...' 'I know.' 'You know what?' 'I know what you said to her, and what she said to you. I know she was thrilled to bits to get the offer of a room in Regent's, and she would shag you rigid for a week, in order to seal the deal.' Colin gave me a long, serious look. 'Are you kidding? You could listen in to our conversation whilst you were still in the immersion tank? You could tell what she was thinking?' I nodded again. 'You'd better start the tape recorder, and I'll talk us through the whole episode, whilst it's still fresh in my mind.' 'Jesus Christ!' he murmured. 'That is fucking incredible. You mean she's really prepared to go to bed with me, in exchange for the room?' CHAPTER 2 - HEAVEN? ...OR HELL? To give Colin his due, once he realised just how powerful a link I'd had with Tracey, from the time when the two of us had been in the separate, but adjacent, immersion tanks, until the moment when the bus pulled away from the campus, he gave me his total concentration. We spent more than an hour discussing the success of the trial, before he noticed the time. 'Bloody hell. It's half-past six. I have to dash home now, or I'll be late.' 'I thought the Bursar was coming across, and at eight, you were meeting Tracey here, and showing her the room in Regent's?' I replied. He gave an embarrassed smile. 'Yeah. Well, the Bursar can leave the key on my desk. I thought I might freshen up a little, before I meet Tracey. You know, put on something a bit more casual.' 'Colin, Tracey's only nineteen, and you're thirty-eight and married. Have you thought about that?' 'No reason for Norah to know, is there?' I shrugged. I was not his keeper. 'Besides, now I know what's on offer, she's a dead cert, if you know what I mean.' And he had gone through the door, before I had chance to respond. ****************** I went to the refectory for my evening meal, all kind of thoughts buzzing around my mind, stretching right back to the moment when we'd first thought up the principle of the experiment. Six months ago, Dr Colin Beckham and I, Dr Graham Goodchild, had been only passing acquaintances at Seacombe university, where we both lectured - me on the physiology of the brain (I was a medical doctor by profession), and Colin, who was a psychologist, on the more esoteric aspects of the mind. We had little in common, apart from our age - we were both in our late thirties. He was short and fat, I was tall and thin; he still had a full head of hair, whereas mine was showing all too alarming signs of balding; and we had totally different interests and pastimes. Then we'd both attended a lecture entitled 'Brain Waves' given by a prominent visiting Cambridge professor, and afterwards, we'd got into a stimulating discussion in the bar, which had continued into the small hours of the morning. By then, the two of us had sketched out the basis of the apparatus which Colin had earlier described to Tracey. It had taken three months to get the experiment set up. In spite of Colin's bland reassurances to Tracey, the university had been very sticky about the safety aspects, fearing that if the flywheels got loose, they would decapitate the subjects, whose heads would be only a centimetre away. Surprisingly, the water tanks themselves had initially been conceived as a way of cushioning them, in case of such an accident. It was only later we had realised the bonus - that the tanks could be used to totally isolate the subjects from reality. Then, the university had insisted we employ a nurse, who would not only be able to professionally handle the naked students without impropriety, but more importantly, be on hand to deal with any medical emergencies. To be honest, I had been delighted by this suggestion. I had been visiting the medical centre with all kinds of invented excuses, ever since Nurse Dawn Tomlinson had started work there. I was totally infatuated by her, but infuriatingly, she never accepted my invitations for a drink or a meal, and all too often, she appeared to be absent when I turned up. I called in some favours to get her assigned to the project, envisaging that my opportunities would then be limitless - she would fall in love with me, and we would live happily ever after. It was not to be. After the first few days with us, she had revealed her true sexuality - kept secret for fear that it might interfere in the professional relationship with her clients, both male and female. I was left in hell - constantly looking at the most gorgeous creature on earth, but not able to touch. We had run the experiment for months without any noticeable results, before Tracey Miller turned up. I'd seen her about the campus, of course. It was impossible not to notice; she only had to walk into the crowded refectory, for a momentary silence to descend, followed by a rumble, as every male in the hall started muttering one of the well worn clich?s to his mates. Until today, I had thought she enjoyed her prominence, a cheeky grin would come across her face, and she would push her breasts out as far as they would go, and strut across the room. Now, I realised how much she despised the catcalls, and her act was one of bravado, rather than pride. A few weeks ago, Colin had come into my office, his tongue positively hanging out, and told me that Tracey had attended one of his lectures, and had come up to speak to him afterwards. 'She's agreed to be one of our subjects,' he said. 'Can you believe it? We're going to have her naked body in our immersion tanks!' The thought was mind blowing for both of us! But even with Tracey, we failed to make any headway, until one day, one of our other guinea-pigs - an engineering post-grad - was ill, and with no-one else on hand, one of us had to take his place. In order to avoid accusations of collusion, and the consequent invalidity of our results, we had a rule that, to the best of our knowledge, the pair of subjects used in each experiment should not know each other, personally. That ruled out Colin, straightaway, as he'd spent countless hours chatting Tracey up, ever since she had started with the project. So I was the replacement guinea-pig. The very first time that Tracey and I worked together, we got a result which was modestly better than pure chance would dictate. We repeated it the next day, with similar results. We tried varying the flywheel speed, and results went back to pure chance. We set the speed back to the original, and got modest results again. It took a further two weeks to make the breakthrough. I had suggested that since flywheel speed obviously played an important part in the results, I should be able to control the speed directly from my immersion tank. I could then adjust it for optimum reception of Tracey's thoughts - the same as when you're adjusting a TV aerial for best picture strength, it's always easier if you can see the screen. So Engineering Department rigged up a kind of twist grip, which would give me fine control of the speed. With just a tiny adjustment from our original speed setting, I was suddenly mainlining. We'd been showing Tracey just three shapes up until that moment - triangles, squares and circle. I consistently picked every one correctly, and Colin and I decided to up the ante - we displayed playing cards to Tracey, which would be almost impossible to consistently get right by chance. Just a bit more fine tuning of the speed, and once again, I was getting every one correct. The previous afternoon, Tracey and I had spent more than an hour in the tanks, and I was still fiddling with the speed control as our test session came to its end. As Tracey moved away from the test position adjacent to the flywheel, all ESP activity between us should have terminated. Instead, as Dawn removed Tracey's blanked out face mask, I got a blinding flash of light, followed briefly by the image of Dawn's face, right in front of me. It was gone in an instant, and I was left wondering whether I'd imagined the whole thing. So, for this afternoon's test, we'd set the speed to be exactly the same as that on which we'd finished yesterday... And it had worked! ******************* My mind was a mixture of emotions. Elation, of course that we had made the kind of breakthrough that every scientist dreams of. But also a dreadful anxiety that we might be opening up fields that were better left hidden for ever - almost like inventing the atom bomb. For example, I had informed Colin that Tracey was quite prepared to shag him, if he got her a room in Regent's, and he was now going to make use of that privileged information. Had I maintained her secret, she could easily have managed to fob him off if she chose, simply by giving him another quick glance down her cleavage. I had violated the privacy of her own mind. And if I revealed to others how it could be done, how many of us would ever be safe again - from unscrupulous criminals to the, much more likely, government agencies. The answer, of course, was no-one would be safe, ever again. I left the refectory, totally oblivious to whatever food had passed my lips, and returned to Colin's office. I pocketed the tape recording I'd made at the end of the experiment, which we'd carelessly left in the cassette recorder. I didn't want that information getting spread around. Then I picked up the phone and dialled Colin's home number. Norah, Colin's wife answered. 'Hello, Graham,' she said. 'Are you going to this lecture this evening, with Colin? From the way he's behaving, it's going to be quite spectacular.' It certainly promised to be spectacular for Colin, but not in the way that Norah was expecting. 'It's about this evening I wanted to talk to Colin. Is he there?' There was a muttered conversation I couldn't quite hear, then, 'He says he'll be there about eight. He'll speak to you then.' 'No, Norah.' I had to be quite firm on this. 'Tell him I need to speak with him now. If he can't come to the phone, you will have to relay the whole conversation between us, word by word.' Colin was on the phone within ten seconds. 'What do you want that can't wait?' he was angry, but half whispering as well, anxious that Norah wouldn't overhear. 'I'm abandoning the test programme, Colin.' As senior lecturer, I had the right to pull the plug. 'What!' 'You heard. What we did today was a tremendous violation of human privacy. You only have to use a little imagination to guess where it might lead...' 'Where it might lead! For Christ's sake, it will lead to fame and success for the two of us.' 'I was talking about where it might lead humanity. I take it that does concern you?' 'Humanity? Well... of course it concerns me.' He paused for a second, and then continued in a more reasonable tone, 'Look, I do understand the issue about personal privacy. It is something we need to carefully consider, before we continue with the project. But why do you need to discuss it tonight?' 'It's not just privacy, Colin. It's also about self determination.' 'But...' I hurriedly continued, over the top of his attempt to interrupt. 'What happened today wasn't just about me scrutinising Tracey's personal life. I also affected the actions she took, today.' 'That's impossible!' He was scornful, and went on to ridicule my argument. 'Are you suggesting that when I mentioned a room in Regent's, it was you that made Tracey think about...' He broke off abruptly as he realised Norah could probably hear every word he said. The break was enough for me to voice my concerns. 'Right from the start, I was swaying her actions. You asked to see her in your office, and Tracey could almost remember what it was about. Except that Tracey hadn't a clue what the meeting was about - I did.' Colin was derisive, and quoted my words back at me. 'Almost remember...' 'Then Tracey realised that she'd known Dawn was a lesbian for some time. But that was a well kept secret. Tracey hadn't known that, I had!' 'Word gets around...' 'It's a well kept secret, Colin.' He was furious, now, and was almost shouting. 'OK, you're making out that you're so morally correct, so what was it that influenced Tracey to ask Dawn out for a drink?' 'Exactly the point.' Colin may have been attacking me, but he was also proving my argument. 'It wasn't the heterosexual Tracey who asked Dawn for a drink, it was me, Dr Graham Goodchild - the person who has been infatuated by Dawn for months.' 'You have no evidence of any of this. Only supposition.' 'OK Colin. What about gravity waves?' 'She told me - she heard someone talking in the bar.' 'That was bullshit. How many people know about our use of gravity waves? How many people could have been talking about it in the bar? The answer - only you and me. I know I haven't told anyone. Have you?' 'No, but she could have just happened upon it...' Colin's voice faltered as he realised it was almost an incredible long shot, then he continued, in a more faltering fashion, 'OK, I agree there is something in what you say. But let's not make hasty decisions tonight. There's no reason why we can't sleep on it, and have a rational discussion about it tomorrow morning. We're not going to undertake any more tests in the meantime.' It was a valid response, and I reasoned I couldn't ask for any more. Or at least, I did until I put the phone down, and I stood staring at the thing I had been twirling between my fingers, all the time I'd been talking on the phone to Colin. It was a key, with a brass tag attached stating REGENT TOWERS 9. The key that Colin was coming across to give Tracey, in exchange for which she would give him free access into her knickers. 'Surely after our discussion,' I thought, 'he won't still be intending to go ahead with that assignation.' I telephoned his house again, to confirm, but Norah told me he had just set out for the university. I was absolutely livid as I put the phone down. 'Hello, Dr Goodchild.' Dawn had stepped into Colin's office, where I was still sitting. 'Tracey is outside, looking for Colin. Do you know where he is?' She stood before me, looking as beautiful as ever. Her tunic was as pristine as it had been when she'd arrived at nine am. I had a terrible pang of jealousy as I realised that Dawn had called me 'Dr Goodchild', whilst using 'Colin' for him. It was so bloody unfair! Colin was going to have sex with the luscious Tracey, who was then going on to have sex with my goddess, Dawn. And I was missing out on it all. And a rather wicked idea passed through my head. An idea that was so erotic, I thought I might instantly self combust. CHAPTER 3 - HEAVEN I consulted the wall clock. With a shock, I discovered it was already eight pm. No wonder Tracey was waiting outside. I realised that Dawn was still looking quizzically at me, wondering why I hadn't answered her question. 'Colin has only just set out from his house, so he's unlikely to arrive until about 8.30,' I said. 'But I would like to speak with Tracey. Show her in, and afterwards, I'd like to run one short test. Could you please get everything prepared.' 'But I thought there weren't any more tests scheduled for this evening.' She sounded dismayed, as though she'd been hoping to get away early with Tracey. 'If we get our skates on, it shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. Colin and I have been discussing a problem with the testing, which is why I want to repeat a test now. I'm hopeful this will be completely successful, but don't tell Tracey anything until after the test. Assuming it's successful, and since Colin probably won't have arrived by then, perhaps you'll take Tracey over to see her new room in Regent's.' I let the keys dangle from my fingertips. Dawn's eyes focussed on the keys, and she immediately worked out the opportunities. 'Thanks.' The keys were taken from my hand, and in an instant were in the pocket of her tunic. I even got a nice smile for it. 'I'll show Tracey straight in, shall I?' She had disappeared before I could respond. Thirty seconds later, Tracey was knocking on the door. 'Dr Goodchild. Dawn said you wanted to see me.' Dawn had obviously dressed to make a killing, that night. Whether it was solely to secure her room in Regent's by seducing Colin, or whether she was still thinking of the appointment with Dawn afterwards, I didn't know, but if her normal mode of dress was fantastic, tonight she looked absolutely devastating. She was wearing a Marilyn Monroe, skirt-blowing-up-over- the-head, white dress. On a normal girl, the material in the halter neck would have been ample to decently cover her breasts - on Tracey it was like using tiny ribbons to conceal giant melons. The effect was explosive for any male in sight - including me, with my ongoing ache for Dawn. I controlled the lust which swirled through every cell in my body, and said, 'Yes Tracey, thanks for coming in tonight. Now I understand that Dr Beckham told you we had been getting excellent results from you.' 'Yes, that's right Dr Goodchild. Colin... that is, Dr Beckham, said he wanted me to do extra work, because my results were so good.' 'I'm afraid that this evening Dr Beckham and I have realised we've made some mistakes with the testing programme.' Well, it wasn't a lie. We had made enormous mistakes. 'Oh, does that mean...' Tracey could see the room in Regent's disappearing. I put on a stern face. 'It's probably nothing, Tracey, but we need to run one more short test, before we can confirm. Dr Beckham was still at home when I spoke with him, a few minutes ago, so he's unlikely to be here immediately. Why don't we run the tests, now?' 'Well, I've just spent hours washing my hair.' I shrugged. 'It's up to you. If you don't want to do the tests now, we can do them tomorrow, sometime. I can telephone Dr Beckham and tell him there's no need for him to come over here, this evening.' 'But Dr Beckham said there was probably a room going in Regent's...' I gave another shrug. I was becoming a master at it. 'I know there are several people on the waiting list, if Dr Beckham doesn't take up his option tonight. But don't worry, Tracey, there'll probably be another one turn up within a few months. We'll make certain you get first choice at the next one. Assuming you pass the test, that is.' 'I suppose it doesn't really matter about my hair...' I smiled. 'That's great. Well, if you get a move on, we should be able to confirm the result quite quickly.' She disappeared almost as quickly as Dawn had done. *********************** I was floating face down in the water, my arms outstretched on either side of my head, and my feet trailing down into the depths beneath, when Dawn's voice came into my headphones. 'Are you already to start the test, Dr Goodchild?' It was not the first time that Dawn had handled the test rig on her own, and she was just as competent as Colin or me at controlling it. Tracey and I were submerged in our respective isolation tanks, the system had been run up to speed, and Dawn now simply had to start an automatic sequence, to display in front of Tracy the pseudo-random series of playing cards. 'Yes thanks, Dawn. Make it a sequence of fifty cards, at two second intervals.' 'Is that all?' 'Yes, Dawn.' From recent experience, I reckoned that was ample for what I had in mind. 'And unless I instruct you otherwise, you can tell Tracey immediately afterwards that the test was successful. If Dr Beckham hasn't returned by then, take her off to see that room in Regent's. I'm in no hurry. I'll get out in my own time, so perhaps you could turn off the main lights and lock the door on your way out.' 'Is that alright?' Dawn knew I had stayed in the tank on previous occasions, and it was now becoming my norm. 'Fine,' I said. 'I'll be OK.' ********************** After the playing cards stopped flashing in front of my eyes, I barely had time to think before Dawn's voice was speaking in my ear. 'That completes the test, Tracey, and I'm pleased to say it was successful. I'll come and help you out. Dr Goodchild has given me the key to the room in Regent's. If you get dressed quickly, we can go up there straightaway.' Dawn appeared to be in a tremendous hurry, for barely had she finished speaking, before I felt her hand grasp mine, and draw me towards the edge of the tank. She had my face mask off almost before I'd lifted it out of the water, and was helping me climb the ladder out of the tank. I knew I really should understand why she was in such a hurry, but I couldn't quite figure it. She had pushed me into the changing cubicle before I had it worked out. Of course. If Dr Beckham returned before I was dressed and ready to leave, it would be him who took me to Regent's, and him to whom I would have to show my gratitude in the appropriate way. On the other hand, if Dr Beckham hadn't arrived by then, Dawn would take over his role - in all aspects, if she had her way. I considered. On the one hand, I wasn't averse to being shagged a few times by Colin Beckham. OK, he was positively ancient, but he was quite nice, and I always felt appreciated, the way he doted upon my tits. I mean, most blokes liked looking at them, but he absolutely idolised them. And it never did any harm to your end of term results to bonk one of the tutors. He was sure to put in a good word for me, and with the way I'd got behind with my work this term, I needed all the good words I could get. On the other hand, I'd never had sex with a woman before. Indeed, this afternoon when I'd seen Dawn's breasts, it was the first time I'd ever felt at all sexually attracted. But I'm always interested in broadening my experience, and I've got nothing against lesbianism, as such. So, given the choice between the ancient, short, fat, Colin Beckham, and a totally new experience with the beautiful, lithe body of Dawn, it really wasn't a difficult decision to make. In fact, the more I thought about Colin Beckham, the more utterly repulsive he became. How on earth could I even have considered letting him shag me? And the way he kept leering at me, just because I was well endowed. Those pictures he'd been looking at on the internet showed what kind of a guy he was. Not interested in women for what they really were, only in... 'Are you not dressed, yet?' Dawn's voice came impatiently through the curtain. 'Sorry,' I said. 'I'm having difficulty getting the straps right.' The halter neck had straps at the sides which pulled across my back, and tugged the edge of the halter underneath my armpits, thereby preventing my tits from falling out the sides. The problem was that my tits were so large that the strap wasn't long enough to wrap twice around my waist and then tie at the front, as it was supposed to. In fairness, perhaps the size of my waist was also a contributory factor to the problem. The curtain twitched aside, and Dawn gasped slightly, as she looked at the side of my left breast. I could see, she wanted to softly touch it, and stroke it, and then kiss it... 'Do you think you could try tying the straps at the back.' If we didn't get a move on, we'd still be here when Dr Beckham returned, and there would be no opportunity to bring such action to a satisfactory conclusion. My words were enough to jar Dawn out of her reverie. She took hold of first the left, then the right strap, accidentally managing to brush against both my breasts as she did so. I suppressed my shudder of excitement. I really mustn't encourage her. Within a second, she had pulled the straps tight and secured them behind my back. I slipped my feet into the high-heeled white sandals - which were a dead ringer for the ones Marilyn had worn - and said, 'Right, let's go.' We were out of the changing room and along the corridor in an instant, with Dawn switching off the lights as we went. At the entrance door, she turned out the final set of lights, we left the building, and she locked it behind us. Outside, it was already fairly dark. I was about to start walking towards Regent's when Dawn grasped me by the hand and pulled me in the opposite direction, and into the main administration block, which was immediately next door. 'Let's go this way,' she said. 'It's a more pleasant walk.' 'More pleasant, this way?' I queried. Had Dawn taken leave of her senses. 'Yes,' she said, in a way that brooked no comment. Over her shoulder, I saw Dr Beckham walking across the square towards the door through which we had just departed. Had we gone directly towards Regent's, we'd have bumped straight into him. 'Of course, it is,' I said, and we sneaked through the silent corridors, and out of the side door at the end of the block, giggling like naughty schoolgirls dashing through the boys changing rooms. 'I think we should go and have a drink in the bar, now,' Dawn said. 'But I thought you were going to take me to Regent's?' 'Well, there's really no hurry to get there. Is there?' She emphasised the last two words, to stress their importance. It took me a while to work it out, but then I had to admire her logic. If Dr Beckham went into his office and saw the key was missing, he would assume that either Dr Goodchild or Dawn had already taken me to Regent's. He would immediately go chasing over there to establish his rights over me. Whereas, if we had a nice leisurely drink in the student bar, he would find the room in Regent's still locked and all in darkness, and simply assume that Dr Goodchild or Dawn had put the key away for safe keeping. Brilliant! I wish I had brains like that. My regular boyfriend, Simon, always maintained that girls couldn't have tits and brains, and that I had plenty of what was most important. But somehow, I couldn't believe that if Dawn had breasts, she would be quite as stupid as me. We managed to find a quiet corner in the student bar, out of sight of the main section, and Dawn offered to get the drinks in. That suited me, because I knew that once I walked over to the bar in this dress, I'd get a round of jeers and whistles, even more raucous than usual. Dawn and I would get no more peace, that evening. We drank our wine, whilst I talked a little about my life, about how guys were always leering at me, and making comments, as though I had no feelings, whatsoever. Perhaps, I surmised, that was why I was so thick - if I actually started to think about what men said to me, I'd be living in a perpetual nervous breakdown. I paid for the next round, but Dawn again fetched it. Afterwards, she told me how difficult she had found trying to keep her sexuality a secret, especially when men such as Dr Goodchild kept asking her out on dates. 'Don't get me wrong,' she said. 'He's a perfectly nice guy, and perhaps if I'd been born a hundred years ago, I'd have married him and led a perfectly respectable life, on the surface, whilst having a maid to attend to my personal needs.' We giggled hopelessly at this idea, and we went onto talk about all kinds of stupid things. We had one more round of drinks before Dawn suggested we make a move towards Regent's. I was happy to agree. I didn't know quite what Dawn had in store for me, but by now, I was aching to find out. She wanted to go to the toilet, so I said I would wander over to Regent's, and meet her outside my new apartment. In fact, as soon as she had disappeared, I slipped the two glasses we had been using into my handbag, and dashed over to the bar. I collected a load of whistles and catcalls on the way, but it was worth it because I bought a bottle of the wine we'd been drinking. After all, I didn't want to receive the first guest in my new residence, and not offer them any hospitality. Dawn took much longer to arrive at Regent's than I expected, and when she did so, she was clutching something behind her back. 'I brought you a house warming present,' she said, and pulled out another bottle of the wine I had just bought. We almost wet ourselves with laughter when I showed her mine. 'Ah, but I also borrowed some glasses,' I cried, revealing the contents of my bag. 'So did I,' Dawn screamed, and opened her handbag to show her booty. 'I slipped them in there when I got the fresh round of drinks.' By this time, my bladder was making its presence felt, and I asked her to unlock the door pretty smartish. At first, she couldn't find the key, then she dropped it on the floor and it went behind a radiator, so I was almost exploding when we eventually got inside. I didn't have time to put on the light, only to streak across to the bathroom, lift my skirt, pull down my panties, sit down and let everything go! 'Strange, that,' I thought to myself. I mean, you don't normally think about what you do when you go to the toilet, do you? You just normally go in thinking about what has just been said or is about to be done, and you come out again afterwards. So why did it feel so novel to lift my skirt and pull down my knickers? Weird! As I was washing my hands, Dawn called out to me, 'You just will not believe this place, when you see it.' I stepped out of the bathroom, and I didn't. Subdued lighting, soft carpeting, hand made book shelves, a leather settee and a matching swivel chair in front of a huge desk. There was a tiny kitchen at the end, and a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed. The sitting-room was on the corner of the building, with windows looking in both directions, but the piece de resistance was right in the corner - a short wooden step-ladder, which at the top disappeared through a hole. Climbing the ladder took you into the turret. It was tiny - about four feet diameter - with a window seat running all around, which only left an eighteen inch hole in the centre through which I had to squeeze first my shoulders, and then my breasts, and then my giant arse. (Perhaps the hole was much smaller than eighteen inches - my arse surely isn't that big!) There was room for only one person at a time, and each of us took a turn to stare out through the arched windows - one window looking along the front of the building, the other along the side, and the third with a tremendous view over the whole of Regent Square. I felt like a fairy princess, and that if I opened a window and let down my hair, a prince would climb up from below, and kiss me. Except that I already had my beautiful princess with me. I returned to the sitting-room, and whilst Dawn was taking her turn in the turret, I pulled the thick curtains across the windows, shutting us off from the outside world. I opened the wine and by the time Dawn returned from her trip in fairyland, I had the first glasses poured. The first bottle went down so easily. We talked and laughed, each of us knowing we were going to end the evening in that king-sized bed, but neither of us wanting to rush the moment. Eventually, Dawn went to the toilet again, and I climbed the turret to get one last look outside before we retired. I must have been there longer than I thought, because I suddenly felt something wet and soft on my left ankle. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I gasped slightly. The wet and soft thing transferred to my right ankle, and then it started to move further up my leg. I moved my legs apart, to make way for it. When it reached my right knee, it tickled the back of it, and I struggled for breath as my heart leapt into my mouth. I leant right back against the window and slightly lifted my legs, the better to allow access to the underside of them, and the tongue, for that is what it was, transferred to my left leg again, and made me cry out with pleasure. I slid my bottom forward as the tongue continued further up my leg. I knew moisture was already dripping out of me, and I pushed my groin forward, making it easier for that wonderful tongue to find its way. Something new nuzzled against my knickers - a nose - and it tried to bury itself inside, whilst breathing in the smell of my juices. But then it withdrew and a finger with a sharp nail slid between my skin and my knickers. Moving so slowly, and being careful not to scratch, the wetness of my panties was slowly pulled to one side, and I could feel cool air, and then someone's warm breath on the lips of my pussy. The tongue moved in again, and now I could see a bulge appear in my skirt between my legs, which were splayed wide apart, with Dawn's head slowly moving up and down underneath it, in time with her strokes against the lips of my pussy. 'Oh, please. Please! I want you. Now!' I pushed my groin as hard as I could against Dawn's head, but it was so cramped in that turret, I couldn't force it on her, and she would not be hurried. The long strokes against my lips continued their leisurely pace, until, at last, the tongue forced its way inside, and touched heaven! I exploded, and as I did so, a bright light came flooding into my eyes, dazzling me for a second. Everything was illuminated in its harsh glare, especially my white dress with me inside, screaming and thrashing wildly from side to side and backwards and forwards. As quickly as it had come, it went pitch-black, and I realised the light was not a sign from heaven that I had reached the ultimate in earth-moving moments, but the headlights from the bus across the square, as it turned around. The thought was enough to shatter my orgasm, and I screamed in frustration at how quickly my orgasm had been and gone. 'Don't worry. I won't let you finish there,' a voice underneath my dress said, and I felt the long, warm, moist, tongue licking my pussy lips again. I felt a tremor, inside. God, sex with a woman was good. Had I been with a man, this would be the time when he'd have been zipping up his trousers, and wondering if he could catch the end of the football match on TV. The tongue continued its work, and I started to gasp, again. Now her tongue was inside me, sliding over every part of my insides, apart from very one spot where I desperately wanted her. I tried to move but my head was jammed at a strange angle against a window, whilst my ankles were trapped down the hole by Dawn's shoulders, and my hips were locked rigid. She moved her mouth and sucked one of my pussy lips between hers, and then let it slide out again. Again she sucked, and let it slide out. Then she changed the position of her head, and commenced the same operation with the other lip of my pussy. I felt my orgasm starting, and this time, knew it was going to last for ever. The tongue touched heaven again, and I screamed with all my might. 'For God's sake, you little vixen, don't make so much bloody noise. I know you need fucking, but there's no need to tell everyone.' The voice had come from beneath Dawn, down in the sitting- room below. My skirt was suddenly pushed up to my waist, and Dawn's face appeared from beneath it, staring at me, as puzzled as I was. 'God, it's dark in here. I can't see a thing. Where's the light switch?' The voice changed in volume, as though its owner had turned away. 'That was really clever of you. I'd have walked straight past if you hadn't thought of illuminating yourself in the headlights of the bus, like that. You're not as stupid as you make out.' Dawn's face disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, as she leapt down to the floor below, and I was left staring down a black hole between my thighs. Then, the black hole was suddenly bathed in light, as Dawn found the light switch, and I could see down, past my knees, to the room below. Directly underneath me was Dr Colin Beckham, his mouth wide open and his head swivelling like a spectator at a tennis match, as he switched between staring at a stark naked Dawn, back to a worm's eye view of my pussy, nicely framed for him by the hole in the bottom of the turret. ****************** He wasn't very pleased. Well, actually, he was absolutely livid. How dare we behave like this, me cavorting in the turret in full view of the campus, and Dawn engaged in totally unprofessional behaviour with a client. We were cheap sluts, who he would immediately get thrown off his programme, out of the university, etc, etc, etc. We both said not a word, until he'd almost run out of them. Then I told him to leave. This was now my apartment - it had been offered to me by himself, and I had been given the key by a member of the university. He had no right in my apartment without invitation, and for him to break in and stare at two naked woman was illegal. Dawn told him there was nothing unprofessional about having sex, as long as it did not compromise her work, and since we hadn't mentioned it during the whole evening, he was speaking slanderous words, and she would be making a formal complaint to the Bursar about it, tomorrow morning. Without a further word, Dr Beckham turned tail and left the apartment. ******************* 'Phew!' Dawn gave me an embarrassed grin. 'I think he was a bit upset, actually,' I said. 'Do you think it's time to open the other bottle of wine.' We were just about to chink our two glasses together, when there was a knock at the door, and Dr Beckham's voice came through, 'I need to speak to Nurse Tomlinson on a professional matter. Immediately, please.' It was a demand, not a request. 'Don't go,' I whispered to her. 'It's a trap.' 'It's a trap which might work in two directions,' Dawn said. 'He said he needs to speak with me, professionally. If I refuse, he could accuse me of unprofessional behaviour.' She put on her tunic and buttoned it up, before going to the door, opening it and stepping outside. I was wildly looking around for something which I could use as a weapon, if I heard sounds of assault coming from outside. But Dawn was back inside within a minute, and said to me, 'I think it's time for that drink, don't you?' 'I thought he was going to attack you.' She shook her head. 'Nope, just a question about the test programme.' We sat on the settee and cuddled together, as we sipped our wine, and gently kissed. Dawns hand started gently squeezing my left breast, and tweaking the nipple, which started to drive me wild, but then I thought, 'No, Dawn's given me a lot, this evening. It's my turn to give her something.' So I unbuttoned the top of her tunic to reveal those tiny, rounded breasts, with the nipples which, even when erect, were no bigger than black peppercorns and, as I found when I rolled them around my tongue, almost as hard. I gave them long, hard strokes, then soft, short ones, and within a few seconds, Dawn was clutching my head and gasping, and moaning, and writhing against me. But she wouldn't let me move downwards. She clutched my head as though she would never let it go again, and I continued to suck those slim, beautiful breasts and tongue those nipples until she was done. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I can't remember when I last had an orgasm, simply from someone tonguing my nipples. That was wonderful.' We drank some more wine, and I really don't know why I asked the question, but I did. 'What did Dr Beckham want with you? Was it just an excuse to get you outside?' 'No, it was a reasonable question,' she replied. 'A bit strange to need the answer at this time of night, but perhaps he's decided to write up some results - you know, to cool down before he goes home to his wife.' She hadn't sated my curiosity, so I pursued the question. 'So what exactly did he ask?' 'He wanted to know why your hair was wet.' 'Oh!' Strange question. Then, I jerked upright. 'You did tell him I'd washed my hair, tonight, didn't you?' 'Don't be silly,' she said. 'That wasn't the reason why your hair was wet. It was because Dr Goodchild asked us to run another test.' 'And you told Dr Beckham THAT!' I shouted the last word at her. 'Of course. What's the matter? There's no secret about it.' Except... Except what? There was something wrong, and I couldn't think what it was. I really don't know what I would have done at that stage, but suddenly, I choked. There was something unpleasant filling my mouth and throat! I bent double, still choking, and then dropped to my knees and started retching on the floor. I coughed and choked and retched for minutes. Dawn had immediately leapt over to me, thinking there was something stuck in my throat. When she realised there was not, she simply held me and patted my back and uttered soothing words, until it had stopped. I opened my eyes, ready to face an horrific mess on my lovely new carpet, but apart from a little wine mixed with spittle, the carpet was still in pristine condition. 'Just a dry retch,' Dawn said. 'Perhaps something at the back of your throat which irritated you.' 'I can't breathe,' I said. 'Yes, you can. You're breathing,' she pointed out. Her logic was indisputable. 'But I really can't breathe. It's as though...' I sat bolt upright. I knew why I felt as though I couldn't breathe. 'Dr Goodchild is still in the immersion tank,' I said. 'Dr Beckham is trying to drown him!' 'Why do you think he might...' Dawn was still speaking, as I ran, as fast as I could, out of the apartment door and raced down the corridor towards the exit. Of course, I had the same problem as earlier, with my breasts flying in all directions as I bounced along the corridor. At least, I'd had a bra on before. It was much worse this time because Dawn had released the