WARNING:
There is no explicit sex in this story (snicker), but a lot of innuendo about sexual matters and some bits of bad language. So be warned...

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

Prologue

It was another dismal gray day, with thick low clouds and a chill wind sweeping inland. However, ensconced at his favorite table in a quiet corner of the Chalk and Cheese, Pete Wisdom was about as happy as he could remember being, despite the local weather conditions. He'd convinced his girl to stay in bed for a long, leisurely romp that morning and then, once they'd finally gotten up, he'd also talked her into flying over to the mainland for a late brunch at the local pub. On average he would have expected to win one or the other point; getting his way on both had made his day.

Now, sitting next to the small fire crackling merrily in the nearby hearth, he lit yet another cigarette, sighed happily and relaxed. When he'd stopped off at the bar to pick up the thick pile of newspapers Jack Crossan shipped in for him every day, the innkeeper had muttered sotto voce that no strangers had been spotted anywhere in the area -- at least as reported by the extremely efficient local gossip chain, which was much more reliable and thorough than any official intelligence service Pete had ever known.

While her lover browsed his way through the papers as methodically as he worked his way through the heavily laden plates Jack's niece Annie kept bringing to the table, Kitty listened to his rambling recital of various odd news items that caught his eye, although only her long experience let her understand his frequently incoherent mumbles as his mouth was usually full while he was speaking. And those few times his mouth was -- briefly -- empty were normally reserved for loud diatribes against whatever the government and its head politicians might be up to at the moment, often delivered to scattered spates of applause and grunted agreement from the appreciative locals, many of whom'd taken to stopping by on the off-chance of witnessing yet another entertaining performance from the displaced Londoner they were starting to accept as a local fixture.

Familiarity had in no wise dulled Kitty's appalled fascination with Wisdom's eating habits and, this morning as at so many other times, she sipped at a glass of orange juice, listened, and watched.

A bowl of fried porridge emptied rapidly while he flipped through the Sun -- which wouldn't have been that bad, actually, except for the addition of half the contents of a large salt cellar and the entire contents of a jug of clotted cream. The resultant gray/white/brown mixture reminded Kitty to at least be grateful Pete didn't usually get drunk enough to throw up the way Brian used to.

Several scones with strawberry preserves liberally smeared on them vanished with the Times, while a plate of bangers and mash came and went with the Guardian, and eggs and bacon rashers got devoured together with the Telegraph -- except for the bits of runny yolk now added to the other stains on his stringy black tie and wrinkled white shirt.

This particular morning it was the Express whose turn it apparently was to irritate Pete enough that he left off devouring Annie's delicious bounty and concentrated on his drink, grabbing it back from his girlfriend who'd been idly studying the colorful cockerel on a crutch that was Cripple Cock's label. He drained the bottle without pausing for breath and lifted it to signal for another, then sat back with a replete burp and lit another cigarette, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his red- cheeked companion trying not to squirm in embarrassment, "Right then, Pryde, that should get me strength back up fer some more exercise this afternoon, if you want t' mebbe work out with me a couple more times..."

Kitty tried hard never to nag at him in public over his habits or his behavior beyond a bit of gentle teasing -- her friends did enough of that on their own and she never wanted him to feel she was siding against him. But in private, by themselves, was another matter. "Pete, really... That horrible stuff you eat can't possibly be good for you... and you *know* drinking and smoking is bad for your health." She paused as he glared at her, then continued placatingly, "I don't want to ruin your fun, really -- I just want you to live a long and healthy life so we can go on having fun together for a long long time to come..."

"So you really want me t' reform all me filthy habits, Pryde? Yer wrong, y' know, that *would* take all the fun out o' life..."

Continued in Part 1...