The Adult Story Hub

Beech broke wind a deep rumble that died away into a strange sounding whistle. Anita looked at him with dawning respect and a flapping hand.
"You're right, Beech, you're right. I never understood that philosphical point before maybe I should have got a dog myself. Or maybe I should drink vodka more often."
Her fingers flicked playfully at one of his outsized auricles. "Whaddya say, boy, shall we both sit up and beg for a bone?"
Beech grunted with seeming approval.
"Well, OK, but I have to tell you that this isn't going to come easy. When I was a student I could get all the guys I wanted just by going to the beach at Coney Island. Now I have to go to the goddamned Orkney islands for sex."
She re-filled her glass and took it into the bathroom. By the time it was dry she was as well, having showered, powdered, and perfumed a body which now contained an unusually high alcohol content in its blood stream. A blood stream which was beginning to pound against her ears like Niagra Falls.
Anita looked dubiously at her naked relection in the full length mirror. "If I'm a lot younger than Goldie Hawn, how come I don't look as good as she does?"
It was no use worrying about that, nor about the extra pounds which had somehow crept through her defenses and hunkered down around her hips. At least she was still a long way from living in a total ruin of a body.
"So why don't I put on a glamorous dress and let Tristan take me to a restaurant and just see what happens from there?"
'Because . . . because I'm not interested any any of that stale old routine. Because when he walked through my door the first time I took one look at him and wanted him to grab me. Maybe it's because there's something about him that stirs my German genes maybe a Norseman looking just like him screwed one of my Rhine Maiden ancestors. Toni says that if I'm wearing that chocker he'll just grab me OK, let's see if he's as good as he looks and to hell with all the usual courtship rituals.'
Answering her own question made Anita shiver. She went into the bedroom and opened the parcel, carefully lifted out the garment inside and slipped it on over her head. Then she returned to the mirror.
It looked good really good, she thought. The Stage Door web page had described it as a stretch cotton/spandex split side mini-dress. The sort of little black number that any lady lawyer would wear to an fashion conscious orgy sexy without being vulgar. A haltered top, a low cut bodice, a hemline that stopped three quarters of the way up her thighs and splits on both sides of the skirt which went up to her waist. With nothing worn underneath it she was ready for anything that came her way.
'Hey, lady, are you putting out the welcome mat or what?'
If this didn't bring Tristan into the breech then nothing would not unless she coated herself in porridge. She giggled and twirled around on her toes.
"Hey, Beech, whaddya think?"
Beech did not strain like a greyhound at the slip. He looked at her, yawned and lowered his head onto his crossed front legs.
"Alright, that's it, buddy. Tomorrow I'm going to bring home the biggest stapler in the office and I'm going to clip those big lugs of yours together over your head. See how you like that."
Anita poured another shot of Smirnoff, a generous one, and then went into her bedroom, opened a drawer and took out the choker. She seemed to have grown an extra set of fingers on each hand because there was no way she could clip it together behind her neck. Her brain was all skewed as well because it seemed to take forever before she realised it was a lot easier to secure the clips in front and then rotate the choker around her throat.
Back to the mirror and looking at her slightly swaying image again. "Please, God, let anything happen as long as he doesn't start laughing."
'Do I put on a robe to open the door in? Or just like this? Kiss him or stand back and smile? Make the first move or let him start, like Toni said?'
Ten minutes to seven and all those dead butterflies in the pit of her stomach were dissolving in a pool of vodka mixed with battery acid. She moved around uncertainly, picking things up and putting them down again. Then she took down Beech's leash and attached it to the choker ring. The dog immediately bounced up at the sight of the leash and began whining with eagerness in anticipation of its daily exercise.
"Shut up."
At the same time the door buzzer sounded. The video screen was filled with Tristan's hulking shape in a three quarter length yellow oilskin. Trickles of water were visible as he pulled the hood back to show his ruggedly handsome face. Streetlights near the doorway were reflected in the wet sheen of the sidewalk. At least she could claim she'd decided to let him screw her because it was too wet to take Beech outside even if was the weakest attempt at justification she'd ever heard in her life.
"Good evening, Anita."
Her mouth suddenly seemed to be full of dust and grit: "Come on up, Tristan."
'Play it cool put the leash on the dog.'
She did that, and it wasn't a smart move. Beech was more than ready to go out to sniff the roses and everything else as well. His paws clattered on the polished wooden flooring as he finally did get down to some serious straining on his leash. Instead of standing there waiting cool and collected, the woman of mystery and intrigue, Anita was becoming involved in a full scale tug of war with a small but surprisingly strong body.
"Calm down. Steady, steady, Beech, steady. Oh hell!"
The door bell sounded, she pushed Beech to one side with her leg, opened the door, Beech went through the gap like a torpedo fired out of a submarine and dragged her behind him, her hand caught in the leash's strap. Hitting Tristan was like hitting a brick wall, she went sideways, her legs stumbled over Beech and she was falling, then caught by an arm which caught and held her body upright without the slightest effort.
"Beech, sit!"
The dog instantly complied to the deep male voice. Tristan set Anita straight on her feet, then looked her up and down.
"God, but this is a wonderful country. "
He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out another leash and snapped it onto the choker ring. Anita yelped and tried to get back inside her apartment, only to find that Tristan was still holding her in place.
"For God's sake, somebody might come along the corridor at any minute. Let's go inside."
"No, I've a better idea. Let's all go for a walk in the park. Beech needs it."
"Fuck Beech, you big fool. I can't go anywhere dressed like this."
"Which is a terrible shame because you look drop dead gorgeous. But I've a great desire to get some wet grass underneath my feet while I've the chance, so I want to take a walk in the park, right now."
Anita cast fearful looks, left and right. "Let me get inside, please, Tristan."
"I'll do a deal with you. Hand me those keys to your apartment you leave hanging up by the door and I'll give you this rain coat to put on. Then we can all be on our way."
Anita was so desperate to cover herself up she did as he wanted, moving back inside the doorway with Tristan following her step for step, but still holding onto the leash. Beech whined in disappointment at what seemed like another delayed walk but remained sitting outside the still open door. Tristan took the keys from Anita's hand and jerked her back out into the passageway, then kicked the door firmly closed.
Beech yelped in joy and Anita in dismay. Tristan chuckled and unsnapped the leash from her choker.
"Don't be worrying, woman, here's my side of the bargain."
His huge hands snapped open the restraining studs down the front of the glistening oilskin. He pulled it off, revealing an old black and yellow patterned track suit underneath, then held the raincoat up for Anita. It was clammy but warm and most importantly it covered her up decently. In fact it covered her up so much she felt like a little girl dressing up in her mother's clothes. The hem of the oilskin was hanging around her ankles and when he pulled the hood over her head it was like hiding in a subway tunnel.
"Aye, that'll keep the rain off you. Now we can go into the park."
"I sure did a good job of turning you on, didn't I?" Anita sniffled. "One look and you'd rather go for a walk in the park."
"Anita, I took one look at you and wanted you on the spot. But I'm getting bored with making out with clinically clean women in high rise, high tech, high life apartments. You were telling me, were you not, that the park over yonder is locked and only residents can get inside? As it not as dark as the inside of cow's gut out there, with the wind blowing and the rain pissing down? Nobody is going to be in there on a night like tonight. Can we not walk on the wet grass awhile and get to know each other with a little hugging to keep warm?"
Her voice came out of the folds of the hood in another wail of protest: "But I've got no shoes on!"
"Then it's me that'll carry you across the road to the park. Come on."
He took her hand in his and again she felt like a small girl as she was pulled along by a strength totally beyond her own. Tristan went down the stairs instead of using the elevator, moving at a speed which had Anita stumbling. At the first landing he stopped and looked back to see Beech eagerly trying to keep up but delayed by his short legs and big stomach in getting over the ledges, his leash dragging along behind him. Tristam laughed, put his hands underneath Anita's arms, lifted her off her feet and pressed her back to the wall.
"Tristan!"
"I've been wanting to this ever since I met you, gorgeous."
His face was in underneath the hood, close against her own, his breath was mingling with hers, his lips were against his, his tongue was between her teeth, against hers, and both tongues were pressing and licking against each other. Anita snorted through her nose like a steam locomotive beginning to move out of a station and her fingers slipped up and down the steel muscles of his arms. Then the rough kiss was suddenly broken off and she was lowered back onto her shaking legs.
"We've got to keep up with Beech," Tristam said. "If we're quick we can overtake him before the next landing and grab another quickie. How about it?"
"How many landings are there all the way down?"
"Let's find out."
They did, but nobody was counting. Anita alternated between mad bouts of scrambling down the steps with equally insane periods of her feet treading air and intensely enjoyable french kissing.
'This is crazy this is over the edge. They've probably got surveillance cameras in here, the co-op board is going to be asking who are these crazy people we got living here? We have a fire, we've got to fight our way out past giant men and dwarves in oilskins making love to each other all over the building? In an apartment they want to put on rubber clothes OK, but on the steps and frightening the dog? And you're telling us this is behaviour from a lawyer who never yet melted butter in her mouth?'
She couldn't stop laughing, not even when she was out on the sidewalk with rain drops tapping aginst the hood and wind gusts cold around her bare ankles. Tristan had Beech's leash in his hand and transferred it to hers.
"Here, hold this."
She was off her feet again, cradled in his arms like a cord of wood, the rain was blowing in through the front of the hood, making her eyes blink, and she stared into the face of an old man underneath a raised umbrella, his jaw opened in astonishment as Tristam stepped past him, Anita held high, the leash tugging at her wrist as Beech raced ahead. Then they were in the dark, out over the road away from the street lights and the tree branches were rustling overhead like an angry crowd as Tristan trotted towards the park gate. When he reached them he put her down.
"Ooops-a-daisy."
Anita giggled: "You said 'oops-a-daisy'".
"No I didn't. An effete Englishman might say that but an Orcadian would say something like 'Fur Fria Und Odon'. It's a tribal custom whenever we're getting ready to sacrifice a virgin."
"I'm not a virgin, Tristan."
"Then I won't have to explain anything that's going on, will I?"
He unlocked the gate, pushed it open. The sidewalk was cold underneath her bare feet. Anita stared into the dripping and forbidding interior of the dark park.
"We'll freeze to death in there."
"No we won't. And when we get back I'll give you a nice hot bath and a good rub down afterwards that'll get your circulation going nicely especially to your nipples."
Anita felt her face turning hot underneath the hood at the prospect. Tristan pushed her past the gate. It was like being put into the starting stall for a race, she thought. Her soles stepped on to a gravel pathway and she gasped with pain, moving sideways to walk on the grass instead.
The gate closed with a creak and a squeak as Tristam relocked it. "Scram, Beech."
The dog bounded off into the darkness, apparently quite untroubled by the darkness or the spluttering rain. The trees and bushs were still banging angrily against each other, their movement traced around the perimeter of the park by the flickering appearance and disappearance of street lights behind swaying branches. Tristam walked over to a bench playing hide and seek in the moving shadows, then sat down on it, apparently untroubled by the wet slats. He unfastened his velcro secured running shoes, pulled them off, then his socks. He carried the socks and shoes in one hand and reached out with the other to take Anita's hand. Together they padded across the saturated turf.
"You're mad, Tristan, you know that, don't you?"
"What, because I want to feel some real earth underneath my feet instead of concrete all the time?"
"We could have been in bed by now and afterwards you could have left me there while you walked around out here all night until your feet turned green for all I care. I'm a not a nature lover."
"Ah, but are you a lover? Toni said that it was her considered opinion that you were a fine woman but you needed some of that legal starch taken out of you. So this seems like a good place to do it."
"What are you talking about?"
Tristan turned towards a group of trees off to one side of the park. A few shifting rays of light from East 20th street fell onto another park bench standing in the grass. Tristan steered her towards the bench.
"Sit down and relax."
Underneath the enveloping hood Anita had difficulty in even doing such a simple thing as sitting down. Tristam held her hands as he guided her awkward movements onto the bench. He knelt down on both knees in front of her and unsnapped the two bottom studs on the oilskin, then drew it aside so her legs were uncovered to the top of her thighs. Drops of rain pecked at the qivering bare skin.
"Tristan! There are buildings all around here. Somebody might be looking down!"
He jerked open another stud: "You'd better keep covered up like little yellow riding hood then, hadn't you?"
Tristan opened the oilskin further yet and trickles of cold water ran down the front of it, falling onto her exposed bush and inner thighs like icy fingers.
"Tristan!"
He leaned forward, pressing his scratchy cheeks between the smoothness of Anita's thighs, forcing them apart, pressing her back against the bench.
"Tristan!"
His lips, his tongue were up against her and he was lifting her legs up, resting the backs of her knees on his shoulders, the warmth of his body coming through the damp material of the track suit.
"Tristan oh, Tristan."
His face was underneath the folds of the mini dress, blackness in blackness, with only his blonde hair to be seen, first ruffled by the wind alone, and then by Anita's fingers as he tongued her clitoris with clinical precision and single minded perseverance.
"Oh, that's good. Oh, that's soooo good!"
Even if he couldn't hear the low voiced words of encouragement from underneath the hood the fingertips urgently massaging his scalp conveyed their own message. Anita writhed around on the wet wooden slats of the park bench, completely past caring about her surroundings as her body sparked with long repressed needs.
"Oh, I want to be fucked by you, just you, just you, you big fucking monster," she crooned in delight, her eyes squeezed shut in delight as every nerve inside her seemed to be tingling with pleasure.
A cold nose touched the outside of her right leg, ruing her pleasure: "Go away, Beech, go away!"
Beech barked.
"Fuck off, Beech."
Beech barked again.
Anita opened her eyes, then tried to make some sense out of seeing a big white dog which looked like a ghost in the faint light. Only it wasn't a ghost and the white outline had dark spots on it. A dalmation! Oh God, somebody else was walking their dog in the park!
"Vikki, Vikki?"
A voice, a man's voice and a pool of light from a flashlight appearing like a small fallen moon on the grass, a moon drifting towards the bench, swinging in search of the dalmation! Anita beat with her fists on top of Tristan's head, clenched her legs against his head, released them and clenched again. It was useless, he just thought it was the effect he was having on her.
The dog barked again, as if wanting to share the discovery with her master. Anita drummed her heels against Tristan's back, then drew her head as far back into the hood as she could and lowered her face. The flashlight swung onto the bench and suddenly stopped moving.
It was a tableau which seemed to last for ever. Behind her closed eyes Anita had visions of a thousand heads suddenly appearing from a thousand windows to gape down at the sexual scene which had suddenly been revealed below, and each head calling on other heads to come and and look at the lewd lawyer letting herself be lasciviously licked on their lawn. She felt Tristam's head move from between her thighs and the fall of blessed darkness again as the flashlight was switched off.
The same voice which had called the dog was speaking to them, falling and rising in tone as the wind flung the words. "I'm sorry I didn't know anybody was here I was looking for my dog."
Tristan answered, in that Sean Connery voice, accentuated into upper class English english: "Quite alright, old boy, you can play through on this green. I'm afraid the lady was too impatient to wait until we got home."
"Yeah right." There was an uncertain pause. "Vikki, Vikki. Come along sorry, folks."
The dalmation finally lost interest in whatever these humans were doing and disappeared into the darkness. Tristan turned back towards Anita and carried on his task where he had left off, ignoring her scandalised protests until she fell into in irrepressible fit of giggles at the same time as she was being stimulated towards an uncontrollable climax. It was a combination of physiological events which had never happened to Anita before. But before she'd found a way of coming to terms with them both she was distracted by Tristan standing up.
He pulled the waistband of the track suit pants down, revealing a curved shape vaguely seen in the darkness, more like structural member than anything human. Anita cupped it between her palms, discovering a heat and a throbbing activity within it that belonged to a male animal. Then her fingers traced its dimensions.
'My God, it's larger than anything I've ever seen on anything except a stallion!'
"There you are, lassie, one slice of prime island haggis. A special treat for a girl who wants to taste the finer things in life."
She tweaked the foreskin and Tristan moved towards the bench, his hands on the back of the hood drawing it forward and closer to him, her head moving closer as well.
"It needs to be kept out of this cold wind or it might go down. If I put it inside the hood, will you help me keep it interested?"
"Yes, OK."
Anita steered the uptilted head of the cock into the hood, bending forward with her lips open to meet it at the entrance. A mouthful of hot, incredibly smooth skin, into and over the dip behind it, and as much of the thrusting shaft behind the head as she could take at first swallow. Her nose was brushing against his tightly curled hairs and the man smell flared into her nostrils, exciting her even more. Tristan's hands behind her head gently pressed in encouragement as she vigorously massaged him with her lips and tongue.
'I used to be damned good at this once. Never thought I'd ever end up as an old maid with so much time between blow jobs. Jees, I love doing this with the right sort of guy though. I wonder if that character with the flashlight is still around. Fuck him anyway, and fuck everybody else. I just hope Scottie here is getting the message that I'm ready to be beamed up.'
The big man was groaning with pleasure as his rampant prick twitched and pushed itself further and further underneath the hood until Anita was snorting with despair at dealing with any more.
"OK, Anita, that'll do for a minute."
He pulled back, put a hand into the top pocket of the track suit, took something out and tore at it with his teeth. A small shiny square of silvery paper blew away in the wind as Tristan discarded it and put his hands down on his cock, obviously rolling on a condom.
"Here, see if you can finish this job for me."
"Sure."
Anita leaned forward and used her lips to roll the rubber down as far as she could along the shaft, and then her fingers to finish stretching the sheath as far as it would go.
'If this was a fish I'd hang it up on a hook as a trophy and photograph it. Remember when the High School did some Shakespeare play and all the girls kept laughing when there was a line about a lusty horn is not a thing to laugh to scorn? Hell, how right that's turned out to be.'
Then Anita yelped and moved her head back on panic as she felt rough hair brushing against her leg. That fucking dalmation again!
"Relax," Tristan said calmly. "It's only Beech."
He was right, it was Beech, a far more energetic Beech than she'd ever seen before, bouncing around Tristan's legs and apparently fascinated by what was happening.
"Now, Anita, would you have a nice warm place where I could be putting this away and out of the rain?"
"Now? Here?"
"Sure, and isn't exercise in the fresh air supposed to be so healthy and all?"
He put his hands on hers and hauled Anita to her feet, then turned her around to face the bench. "OK, just kneel down and lean forward over the backrest. I want your arse nice and high in the air."
"Oh, God."
The hand on her back pushed her forward insistently until her legs were rubbing against the bench. Still the pressure from behind didn't relent. She pulled the flaps of the oilskin clear of her legs and knelt down on the seat, bent her upper body over the back of the bench, stretching her arms out to grasp the bottom slats as Tristan's hands lifted her bottom up into the position he wanted her. Next, he lifted up both sides of the oilskin, higher and higher and Anita squeaked as the cold wind blew across her exposed buttocks, leaving them shivering and rain moistened.
'I sure as hell bet nobody has ever dared do this to Judge Judy.'
Then Anita squeaked much more loudly as something even colder than the wind and the rain nuzzled up between her legs. A cold wet nose sniffing around her cunt
"Beech, sit. He's just trying to make friends, that's all. Like me, I guess. See if this makes you feel better."
She tried to look behind her, a useless effort with the oilskin piled on top of like a fallen tent. Then she felt something else moving between the top of her legs, something hot instead of cold, something rubbery smooth that rose up and into her outer lips and rubbed against them with an insistance nothing could deny. Anita moaned and squirmed in anticipation, then pressed back and managed to get herself around the head of the cock, her muscles eagerly gripping it. Tristan laughed and rewarded her with another inch or so.
"All the way, Tristan! All the way!" she whispered.
Whether or not he heard her he gave her a full stroke of the absolute fulfilment her body was craving for, his hips slapping against her ass like hands clapping. Anita yelped in her own round of applause and clung to the bench as more strokes filled her up like waves of molten lava.
"Hey, look. I can see the moon coming out from behind the clouds. Just for a second. It's the moon and New York city, Anita."
"Never mind the romance, just keep on fucking me!"
"You city girls, you're even tougher than the cockroaches. OK, here we go, loop-de-loop."
Tristan's movements quickened up from a walk to a trot to a gallop, his fingers digging into the front and tops of her legs as he moved her backwards and forwards in time with her thrusts. Anita shouted out in joy and then went into a spasm of absolute pleasure, almost weeping with the relief, her head falling forward as the erection inside her seemed to get ever bigger and longer.
'Toni, Toni, you're not getting this back, not if I have to fight you tooth and nail to keep him.'
A shape close to the ground and whining with pleasure approached, then reared up and licked her face.
"No, Beech, no, damn you," she whimpered, turning her face from one side to another.
The dog hesitated, she gasped with satisfaction as her cunt went into melt down mode once again and Beech took it as a sign she wanted to be licked again.
"Fuck off, Beech again, Tristan, again. More not you, you fucking animal, Oh God, I'm going mad!"
'If Toni ever gets to hear that I let her dogboy fuck me doggy style on top of a bench in a park I'll never hear the last of it not unless she goes to the Orkneys like she says. Imagine going to a place like that just to get laid like this every night yeah, imagine that. . .'
Anita let go of the bench and slapped at Beech: "Sit! Sit!"
Then she screeched as Tristan's cock reached critical mass and she imploded around it into a dissolving mass of jelly only held up by the rigidity of the rod hammering into her as if he was a human pile driver. Her pleasure ululated through her lips and across the park like an Arab soldier's war cry as Tristan gave a deep chested sigh of ejaculatory satisfaction.
A woman was a woman was a woman but a classy woman was an act worth following. A lawyer, a top courtroom lawyer, for God's sake. Back home Anita would be a barrister with a wig and a gown, maybe even a QC, a Queen's Counsellor. Imagine the chances of screwing a sexy looking QC in a London park! It was about as likely as getting to play for Manchester United. How the hell could a man want to leave a marvellous madhouse like New York and go back to boring sanity?
Tristan looked down at the excellently contoured bottom still quivering at the end of his cock and gave the right buttock a friendly slap. His newly found and well learned friend giggled in her throat.
Unknown to both of them, they were part of a joined experience. A dozen paces away a man standing behind a bush and beside a tethered dalmation had been masturbating himself into his handkerchief as he listened to the sounds of the love making. When Anita and Tristan had finished, so had he. He dropped the handkerchief, untied his dog and quietly walked away until he'd gone far enough to feel safe in talking.
"Vicki, I'm going to call the manager of that goddamned hotel right now. He shouldn't be letting those dirty Britishers of his roam around in a park that's used by decent people."
Anita was curled up on top of the bench, her head in Tristan's lap, her body underneath the covering oilskin in a post coital glow that was like an unexpected rerun of a long gone but fondly remembered TV series.
"So I'm supposed to find a way of keeping you in the States, am I?"
"Oh, that's easily fixed. Just marry me."
Anita nearly fell off the bench, then realised he must be joking. "With the difference in our ages it would make more sense to adopt you."
"Whatever as long as we're together. Why don't you let me move in with you for the rest of my ninety days on a no obligation try out and then I'll ask you again."
"Why would you want to marry an old hag like me?"
"For money. It's always been an overwhelming argument with my ethnic group. No Scotsman has ever willingly divorced himself from a regular supply of cash."
Anita moved her head and looked up at him quizically: "And what would you do with yourself if you could stay here keep on walking dogs for obliging ladies?"
"No, no, I've a mind to get myself a leg up in the world. Twenty two legs if possible."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I've got qualifications from the Scottish Football Association as a coach and soccer seems to be catching on amongst women in the US as a sport. There's probably a ladies' soccer team somewhere in New York Citylooking for a fine upstanding coach to give them a hand."
Anita snorted with laughter: "Yes, and I can guess where they'd get the handling. And where would your wife be playing on the team?"
"You could be the goal keeper. You get to stop everything that the rest of the girls let through."
"Ha, what a great offer!"
"Eleven normal girls wouldn't tire me out as much as Toni would. There's a lady who's really eager to share out her beaver. And morally, she has first call on my services."
Anita's heart sank: "Yes, I guess she'd marry you even if you were having an affair with an entire soccer team on the side. So you'll be going back to her, I suppose, once she comes home?"
"I suppose I could, but I don't want to. I want to stay with you. You've got a fine sense of humor, Anita, and I think we've got things in common."
"Such as?"
Anita drew her legs up underneath the oilskin, away from the still falling raindrops, happily feeling like a little girl again in a contented and well protected world.
"For a start, to tell you the absolute truth, I don't like dogs much myself. I was only walking them to make a few dollars."
Anita giggled, then fell silent: "Toni though she'll be as mad as a cut snake if you stick with me. It's bad with her being a client and all. She could make some nasty scenes."
"Maybe we can avoid them. You remember how I told you about how there was a Tristan and a Siegfried in that TV series, and how I said that being called Siegfried Yorstan was a heavy load to carry through life?"
"Yes."
"Well, my mum didn't pick one of the names, she picked both of them, and I was the twin lucky enough to get Tristan."
"What?"
"Yeah, Siegried is my twin brother. Nobody can tell us apart and he's not engaged or anything yet. I can have him over here in a couple of days if somebody would lend us the airfare."
"You're identical?"
"Like two peas in a pod, to coin a phrase. If I were to tell him all I know about Toni he could go off with her."
Anita sat up, clutching the edges of the oilskin underneath her chin. "Wait a minute, you want me to tell Toni I've got a substitue for you she can have?"
"Ah well, maybe it would be more interesting to let Siegfried answer to the name of Tristan for a while and then to see how long it takes Toni to spot there's been a switch; by the time she does find out she'll also have found out that Siegfried can do everything for her that I can. And if I can get a job as a coach with a woman's soccer team I suppose Siegfried can job-share with me we just won't tell the girls they've got two coaches instead of one. That way we can have twice the fun."
"And what about me how would I know whether I was getting Tristan or Siegfried?"
"I guess you'll just have to keep putting love bites on me in places where only you know where to look for them. Let's go home and I'll give you a bath and a massage and then you can get started."
"Can I? Well, yes, I guess I could do that until I get myself a branding iron."
Together they walked hand in hand across the grass, often stopping to break into laughter. Beech followed on approvingly he couldn't remember when he'd last seen a pair of humans enjoy a walk so much. A pity they were usually such a miserable looking species.