Sir Peter

Jack had passed the second semester with Excellent, the examiner grumpily said after the exam he just needed to work on his Scottish accent. Jack smiled, but after a brief damage assessment, he said it had to be a German accent. The examiner smiled and put his hand kindly on his shoulder, well, at least not a Scotsman, he didn't like them at all. Robert Bruce, their superstar, he chewed contemptuously between his teeth and left. Jack looked up Robert Bruce, King of Scots, 1306 etc. in the dictionary at home. Jack chuckled, such a silly drip, still grumbling about lost battles after 650 years! There were more important things to do, he was going back with Jane by train to Germany, Austria and through Switzerland, 3 or 4 weeks. They would also visit Veronika, who was very happy about it.

Jack put his hand on her back and told Jane he now knew Robert's family name. Robert the Bruce. He explained the background to her and they laughed at the cranky professor.

A week later they were on the road, visiting the sights. One evening they arrived at Veronika's house, who welcomed them with a warm dinner despite the late hour. Jane didn't understand German, but Veronika made an effort with English, she understood everything and could also ask questions carefully. They soon went to bed. Through the half‐open door, Jane and he could hear Veronika's loud and energetic masturbation, as if they were with her. Although they were dog‐tired, Jane pulled him on top of her and they fucked, quietly and listening for Veronika's noises. Jane orgasmed quite hard and it took him a little longer to squirt. When they were lying next to each other again, Jane whispered in his ear that it was so exciting to listen to Veronika masturbate. Veronika masturbated from orgasm to orgasm with loud gasps and moans. They only fell asleep when Veronika had masturbated enough and it became quiet.

When Jane got up in the morning, Veronika and Jack were already preparing breakfast. They were both split naked. Jane dropped her robe right back on the bed and joined them both naked as well. It was apparently the right thing to do and they chatted about this and that over breakfast. When they washed the dishes afterwards, Jane saw Veronika looking covetously at Jack's semi‐stiff cock. She surreptitiously reached out and rubbed the glans with her thumb, Jane could see it quite clearly. She looked pleadingly into Jane's eyes and held the cock, which was beginning to stiffen. Her thumb stroked the glans. Jane hugged Veronika, who winced at the touch of their bare skin. Their naked breasts, their naked bodies touched each other for a long time. Jane put a hand on Veronika's hand, clutching his cock. For only a split second, Jane considered leaving them alone and taking a walk. But she immediately decided otherwise. She looked deeply and understandingly into Veronika's eyes and asked redundantly, "Do you like? Do you want to?" And without waiting for Veronika's answer, she pulled both of them by the hand into Veronika's room, where the bigger bed was. Without words she pushed Jack next to Veronika on the bed. They waited silently for a few seconds, but Veronika couldn't wait any longer and pulled Jack between her legs. Jane gave Veronika long French kisses and excited her nipples while Jack fucked Veronika. They got out of bed for three days and three nights only to dine at the Goldener Hirsch. Veronika introduced everyone to her son and his sister from England. The landlady cooked them the very finest steaks, which she picked up from the butcher next door. She was the only one in the inn who needed only seconds to realize that all three of them were fucking each other. She didn't think for a second about incest, she didn't give a damn. She would ask Veronika later once properly, how it all went.

.

Jack really had to sweat, fucking two greedy women was very exhausting. He needed breaks, please, another break. The women masturbated each other when they were horny. Jane had quite soon taken the initiative and was licking Veronika's clit. Jack soon found that the timing was right for him to fuck each licker from behind in the doggie position. This seemed to be quite good for all three of them.

Veronika asked Jane if she really orgasmed while fucking and Jane replied with a smile, always with Jack. Veronika said she had never had an orgasm while fucking, but sometimes she was so aroused from fucking that she had to masturbate immediately, then it took only a moment to orgasm. She only needed to stroke her clit three or four times and the orgasm was immediate.

And she had only been licked by three women so far, an incompetent waitress, in a photo studio and by the landlady of the Goldener Hirsch, she could do it best. Jane replied that she had seen the photos, of course, and no, she had never been intimate with a woman before. Both saw that Jack's cock was ready again and grinned at each other to see who would get it first. They fucked for three days and three nights, as often as he could. When he took a longer break, they licked each other, because they both loved that very much. Veronika would sometimes get out her nude pictures and tell Jane in halting English how the picture was taken and all the trimmings. Jane laughed heartily, because Veronika's narration was horny and dirty. Sometimes Veronika's narration would falter if she was unfamiliar with a piggy term and then she had to paraphrase Jane with her hands and feet what the piggy meant. This was incredibly funny and comical. They continued on the fourth day.

After a total of four weeks they arrived back in London, their own home was much nicer than any hotel room. Jane immediately noticed that someone had been rummaging in her secret compartment. She immediately took Rose into prayer and she immediately admitted to having looked at Veronika's pictures and also all of Jane's nude pictures. The simple servant said that she had found the pictures beautiful and horny. She had also read Lady Naomi's diary. She had almost completely written off the chapter the lady had written about her. Jane scolded her properly for digging into her secrets, but she gave her the notebook back so she could finish copying it. That would be all right. She felt sympathy for Rose, whose good‐for‐nothing husband had simply run off and never reappeared. Rose suspected he had met a rich widow and was sunning Spain, that was his dream. That he might have fallen on the way home from the pub, choked on his own vomit and ended up in pathology as a John Doe, never occurred to her; the Spain‐version was more romantic. She had moved into the tiny servant's quarters behind the kitchen after she quit the apartment and was available to her mistress and master full time.

They still had all summer and fall to lounge around and went to the clubs and bars almost every night, life could be so easy. Jack got mail every other week with letters from Veronika, once she also sent a packet of coffee. It contained the last 180 nude pictures that the photographer had sent along with the fee of 11,500 Marks. The pictures were mostly of the make‐up artist and the young assistant. Jane liked the really good and horny shots of the lesbian makeup artist. Jack noticed one close‐up in particular, the apprentice spreading the makeup artist's vagina with one hand and squirting into it in a rich stream. The photographer had masterfully captured the dilated hole, the full‐length tunnel‐shaped vagina, and the jet of semen shooting out from the glans; Jane didn't like it much. Somehow, she said, photographing inside the vagina seemed indecent to her. Veronika wrote that the photographer had apparently made a mistake and included a good 50 pictures of perfect strangers. Jane looked through all the shots with Jack, they were really masterfully done shots that captured the most beautiful moments of these women. They were all a feast for the eyes, the women pictured sensual, erotic and in full swing. They were all different beauties whose different private parts the photographer had captured masterfully. He apparently had a preference for women with easily recognizable and prominent clits and the moment of their orgasm, which they triggered with their finger on the knob of the clit. The images were so perfect that you could almost hear the women's released sighs. Jane found these images very arousing. Jane and he looked at the pictures again and again, they were a source of pleasure.

Veronika had agreed to the photographer to participate in porn films. She wanted to be involved in the sales again and get two copies of all the raw footage, uncut and uncensored. Two things were important to her: no ass fucking and no shots on the days when she was ready to conceive. The deal was perfect, she would drive into town for two days every other week and stay overnight at the studio, although there was little time to sleep. On those two days, all she had to do was get fucked or be filmed masturbating. Usually three cameras were filming at the same time, the photographer giving instructions on what she or her men had to do. She quickly got used to it, although these shouts from the director disrupted the natural flow. Every day she was fucked by six to eight well‐built men and made herself orgasm after fucking with a few strokes on her clit. After the men, she masturbated two or three times in front of the cameras. In the evening the whole film crew went to the restaurant and then usually two or three of the crew came with her to the studio to fuck her without cameras before she could sleep. She loved filming, getting fucked and teasingly masturbating in front of the camera. She was usually pretty exhausted by the time she was on the bus home. When she got the film copies, she sent them to Jack. He had bought an 8mm‐projector and watched the films with Jane. He could not get enough of them, Jane had usually seen enough after watching once and retreated to her study to study scientific papers.

Jack sometimes let the film run frame by frame and enjoyed every moment of Veronika's screwing. He could see quite clearly that Veronika was only masturbating restrainedly in front of the camera, not giving it her all, as when she did it in front of him. This filled him with a strange satisfaction, she kept that to herself and to him. Her arousal at being fucked was real and needed no acting talent. Equally real and authentic were the three or four strokes of the finger across the clit to trigger the orgasm after each fuck. Most of the men squirted deep in her vagina, but a few pulled out their dicks and squirted in plain view on her body. Veronika wrote that fucking with the camera men in the evening were the most intense, much more real and passionate than fucking with the paid muscle men. More and more often Veronika did lesbian scenes, the girls were often barely 16 or 17 years old, amped up and very sex‐hungry. She found it disgusting to see shots of bloody young girls who were apparently made submissive and horny with some pills before they were brutally deflowered in front of the camera. She also sent these recordings to Jack, who also did not find it horny, but still looked at them.

Every two weeks came a package with coffee, the latest films and the long letter in Veronika's most beautiful school writing. The study continued, Jack often put Veronika's films unseen in the lockable closet. What would Rose have said to the titles, too: 'The Fucking Wonder of Berlin' or 'The Whore of the Reeperbahn'. He studied hard and crammed to become best in the college. Jane worked harder than ever for her editorship and her pay expressed more and more how much her contributions were appreciated. It was Jane who planned their evenings at the clubs when they both took a break from studying. This is how Jack's first meeting with Sir Peter came about. Jane informed Jack shortly before the encounter. Our father's and my mother's best friend, I called him then to get you into the Royal Academy. Then they strode to the little table where Sir Peter was sitting.

"Sir Peter," Jane said, "this is my brother Jack, Jacob. We spoke on the phone," Jane reminded, and continued. "Jack, this is Sir Peter, Lord Mossley and Earl of Pembroke, he has known me since I was born and has always been a good friend to my parents." Jane smiled, "he pretends not to know anything more about it, but he had had influence at the Academy." Jack immediately grabbed Sir Peter's hand and thanked him warmly. After they were seated, Sir Peter insisted on being addressed only as Peter. He was a slender, athletic‐looking man, his sharp tanned face with bright gray eyes appearing energetic. He had a neat white lion's mane that made him appear extraordinary. On second glance, Jack estimated that Sir Peter might be around seventy. The familiarity between Jane and Peter was obvious. "Forget the aristocratic nonsense, I'm a hard‐working clerk to Her Majesty the Queen." He laughed sympathetically as he looked at Jack and added that he worked for the secret service MI6 and had a high position, but it was so secret that he didn't know for sure himself. Jack was astonished and looked at Jane, who said to Peter, she shouldn't have told Jack this secret, Uncle Peter! He smiled adorably. How I missed being called Uncle Peter, Princess! he said, sending her a little kiss through the air.

They chatted about the court ruling that cleared Naomi's mother of any theft, Jane's work for BBC, her first trip to Europe, and Veronika, Jack's adoptive mother. What she was doing, Peter wanted to know and Jack didn't think long, "she was a convent woman before my adoption and now she works in porn movies, as the main attraction." Peter's smile was wide and engaging, "if I had known how honest you answer, I wouldn't have had to use three men to do the research." He grinned even wider, "I always try to be well prepared. Main attraction, but the word was not in the report. A strong word," said Peter, "how is it for you?" asked Peter. Jack immediately replied that it was okay for him, his adoptive mother had found a job that matched her strong sexuality. She was doing it voluntarily and with real commitment, and she wasn't doing anything she didn't want to do herself. Jack looked Peter firmly in the eye. "I love her with all my heart, as a son should love his mother." Peter returned his gaze just as firmly and said, welcome to our family, Jack, son of Nicholas! Jane ended the solemn silence and continued her narrative about the European trip.

On arriving home, Jack asked if she could explain to him fully the phenomenon of Sir Peter, Lord of bla bla. Jane poured herself white wine and Jack a port. She lit a cigarette and began. Peter was his father's closest friend and a work colleague. She knew nothing about his work with MI6. She knew him as Uncle Peter from a young age and he was like a real uncle, children's birthday parties, zoo visits, escorting her to her first dance, birthday presents, etcetera. Jack gave her time, waited patiently until she was visibly emotional to continue. When Mr. Brown stayed away, he came once a week to fuck Naomi. I know it, I watched them secretly every time. Every time, without exception. It did Naomi a lot of good, she experienced respect, physical highs and loving friendship with him. She was an all‐around happy woman for the rest of her life, experiencing sexual fulfillment with him. He enjoyed watching her masturbate, unlike Mr. Brown, because she masturbated completely differently than other women. He visited her until the end, even though they were no longer fucking. In her last weeks, he sat by her bedside daily and secretly brought her enough morphine to endure the pain of abdominal cancer. I know, because it was I who gave her the shots. Jane fell silent. For minutes it was silent, very silent.

In her last year, Naomi was no longer capable of screwing. Uncle Peter still came every week and chatted with her. "Then he came up to fuck me." Jane looked at Jack out of the corner of her eye, but he listened intently with folded hands. Yes, we had a relationship for a year and a half, Jane said with downcast eyes. "Are you judging me?" Jane asked, and he shook his head in denial. Naomi slipped up behind him and hid in the bathroom. I told him, he walked into the bathroom split naked and took her by the hand. He put a chair very close to the bed, made her sit down and kissed her deeply. Then we fucked in Naomi's presence, and Naomi came along every time we fucked. Uncle Peter was the first and only man who didn't give a damn about Robert. Peter was obviously spurred on by my youthful body and made wonderful sex with me, although it was often difficult for him due to his age and I also often had to help him. Sometimes with the hand, mostly with a lot of exciting masturbation. Sometimes also with mouth, lips and tongue, and sometimes he lost his temper and squirted in my mouth. I swallowed the semen and made him stiff again when he wanted it. He was the first man I let watch me masturbate. Jane paused for a long time and hung on to her memories. Naomi was too sick to come up later. We also fucked on the day she died, before that we both sat by her bedside and held her hand until she was dead. It was the only time I saw tears in Peter's eyes, Jane said softly. After that we fucked soulfully and he talked about Naomi crying for a long time. Peter was deeply sad and opened one of his secret caskets.

This is how I learned that Peter and my father both fucked Naomi for four years before I was born, and that Naomi cried the first time because she detested being fucked at the time. She only endured it because Nick was her first and she loved him idolatrously. Nick had conquered her and after only a few days invited Peter to fuck Naomi for two. Naomi didn't want it, but she gave in to Nick. Over four years this threesome relationship lasted, and Naomi wavered in the first year whether she wanted to marry Nick or Peter. Peter soon refused, for those who worked for the service were better off without a family. The first day, only Nick fucked Naomi and Peter just watched them. When Nick had cum, Peter bent over her and she started to cry, maybe she didn't want to be fucked twice. Peter stared into her hole dilated from fucking and squirted into her hole while masturbating without touching her. The two men were young and fully juiced, fucking Naomi daily. They hoped that Naomi would learn to love being fucked if only she was fucked often enough. Somehow it turned out that way.

Peter had never intentionally squirted into Naomi's hole in the beginning, because the kid had to be Nick's, it was a foregone conclusion. Nick never pulled his cock out and squirted his seed as deep into Naomi's vagina as he could. Peter only squirted on the outside of her hole the first few weeks when he was done fucking. But almost always Naomi's hole was still wide open from fucking, because she never closed her legs after fucking, vigorously grabbed her clit and offered her hole to squirt in, grinning obscenely and frivolously. Peter just squirted his seed in because he either pulled his cock out late at the last moment or it squirted before he pulled out. When they were drunk, — as they so often were, — Peter, like Nick, would not pull his cock out, squirting gleefully into Naomi's hole, and Nick would smack his ass amicably, "let it go, old champ, just let it go!" Peter was always fascinated after fucking her big open hole when he stood up and squirted in. Naomi would stare unblinkingly first at his face and then at her hole as he squirted inside. She had to watch compulsively as he squirted inside, although at the same time she claimed it was disgusting. Peter was also fascinated by her stiff clit, half the size of a pinky finger when aroused, which she vigorously grabbed with two fingers after fucking and slowly rubbed up and down until it softened again. She rubbed slowly but vigorously up and down for a very long time until the clit sort of exploded and her legs began to tremble. Lightning bolts went through her abdomen, just like when she was at boarding school. She sighed deeply and continued to rub the clit very gently until it softened and her body calmed down. That, she thought, was the only nice thing about getting fucked, she once said to Peter. Getting fucked itself she didn't find beautiful, she whispered, but it excited her sexually very much and when then her clit exploded and the flashes made her legs twitch, she found that very beautiful. That's why she allowed them fucking so often, that's why she made sure they fucked as often as they could every day. Peter stayed perched on his heels watching her as she slowly exploded her clit and closed her eyes smiling pleasantly to feel the beautiful flashes in her abdomen. He was sure then that Naomi had orgasms while rubbing the clit, maybe just tiny ones, although Naomi denied it every time. She didn't know what an orgasm was and how women masturbated, she had told him several times. Naomi moaned and gasped with effort while being fucked, but never got real orgasms, although the two friends often took rapid turns. After each fucking, she would vigorously touch her stiff, aroused clit until there were the little flashes and soothe it with gently stroking fingers.

Peter assured Jane that Nick was most definitely her father, because during the time in question he was abroad for four months. During the pregnancy, they fucked Naomi a thousand times, usually starting in the afternoon and fucking late into the night. He no longer had to worry about squirting and fucked Naomi the same way Nick did, with vigorous thrusting and squirting in the finale. Naomi still didn't enjoy sex, but she had gotten used to it, went along willingly and never refused. Peter was sure that Naomi was almost always so aroused during the pregnancy that she was just a millimeter away from really orgasming. Peter had always regretted in retrospect 'fucking Naomi healthy' despite her disgust, the two friends did Naomi no good by doing so. When Nick was detached to Germany after their bad row, Peter continued to fuck Naomi, sometimes daily, until he too was detached to prepare for war. Then came Mr. Brown. Jane was silent, Jack cleared his throat and said, all in all, Naomi did experience a fulfilling sexuality after all, was loved by many and fucked well by some. She discovered masturbating and orgasming late, but still for herself. I don't think she was unhappy, Jack said. Jane nodded silently in agreement.

Jack asked her if she wanted to keep fucking Sir Peter — and he asked the question with a friendly undertone. He said he didn't mind, and that it was her choice, after all. Jane frowned at first, but immediately relaxed. No, she replied, I already told him that. If it was because of his age, he asked uncertainly, and I only answered, No, absolutely not, I just don't want it anymore. He accepted it. He was always an impeccable gentleman. Jane looked him straight in the eye. The last time we fucked was a few days before you arrived. I haven't fucked anyone since, and I plan to continue not to, as long as it's right. I love you, I love only you! I fuck only with you!

Jack looked at her fondly, yet seriously. They had slipped into a debate he would have liked to avoid. I cheated on you with Veronica without hesitation, and I'm sorry and at the same time I'm not, he said, and Jane wiped her hand through the air, that's not infidelity. I love you with all my heart, with every fiber of my heart, Jack said, I would so like to swear to you that I will always be faithful. But I have a defect in my character, I know that, so I do not swear. If Veronika, or God forbid Rose, were lying there naked and willing, I would fuck them both without hesitation, for sure! Jane frowned, Rose, no, that would be staff! But he added stubbornly, leave out our Rose, take Suzy, Marie or Jacqueline, it doesn't matter! I'm probably very messed up and incapable of physical fidelity!

They debated for a very long time. Jane was at an advantage; she had done a piece on fidelity only a year ago and read the 18 pages to him. Fidelity was a woman's issue, especially among young women. As women got older, being faithful diminished; they were much less likely to let anyone screw them. Men, unlike women, were incapable of fidelity, especially when they were young. They fired at everything that came before their shotgun. Even in old age they cheated until old joints, excess weight and lack of fitness crippled them too. Jack looked very unhappy; Jane's work had been spot‐on with his suffering. Jane felt her way very much to the core. "The only thing that mattered was if you chose one person or if you fell away‐every time, then you had lost the partnership." Jack said he loved her with all his heart, with every fiber of his heart. He would swear allegiance to her, but he knew he could not get past a willing cunt. Jane embraced him warmly and said she loved him and didn't want to sleep with anyone else. It was easier for her, too, she said, because women by nature felt that way. She would leave him if he whored around or lost sight of her love. But she also knew that no man could resist temptation, so that in itself would not be a reason for her to give up and end the relationship. If it should happen, then he should not fall in love, she did not care about the purely physical. She had proven it when they were with Veronika, hadn't she? As they continued to talk about their horny time at Veronika's, they both felt their desire rise and put a movie of Veronika fucking into the projector. Jack came close to confessing to Jane that he often snuck down to the dark kitchen at night to watch Rose masturbate. She would leave her bedroom door open at night and masturbate unabashedly and loudly. But he said nothing; it would reflect badly on him.

It happened just a few weeks later. Jane had kissed him while he was half asleep and had gone to the BBC. He dreamed woozily and wildly, woke up with a mighty morning wood, and he masturbated without being able to squirt. He got up and went to breakfast in his robe as usual. Rose stared dumbfounded at his morning wood and stopped, she dusted thoughtlessly on the same spot and inconspicuously looked at his hard‐on, which he tried in vain to cover. He looked at Rose and shreds of the memory of Naomi's diary concerning Rose wafted through his hormone‐ridden brain. He decided, still rather vaguely, to fuck Rose at some point. He went to his room, he tried again, and he just couldn't squirt. He opened his books, but stared blindly at the lines with horniness, unable to retain a single word. He called Jane from her study, but she was terribly busy and probably wouldn't be home until late at night. She soon ended the call. He wondered why he couldn't explain his distress to her, why she didn't sense that he needed her badly now. He went back to his room and called Rose up.

Rose stood in front of him ready for service, and the fact that he was wearing only boxer shorts and a T‐shirt was not unusual. Of course she noticed the erection under the boxer shorts, but she overlooked that as a good maid. She waited. He gave a jerk and said, get undressed! Rose froze, sure she had misheard. He grabbed her bottom, unbuttoned some buttons of her dress and said quite forcefully, undress, completely naked! Rose hesitated for a moment, then quickly undressed, dress, bra and panties. She stood embarrassed in front of him, thinking that he somehow needed her naked body for his studies, after all the books were unfolded on the table and not supplied in the tray as usual.

He ordered her, lie down on the bed! and quickly undressed himself. His erection stood out bolt upright. She was abruptly aware of what would follow and lay down on the bed, tightening her knees and unfolding her legs.

Ready to fuck! she thought dumbly and smiled.

Jack now knelt down opposite her, squatting on his heels. She must have been 40 by now, had a womanly body, flat sagging breasts, and a very small blond bush above the pubic cleft, crisscrossed with white threads. He spread her sex with his fingers and looked at it very closely. She had a surprisingly large hole, framed by torn‐looking small labia. The outer labia were flat and hairless. The clit was not immediately visible; it was unusually small and well hidden. He could finally feel it and stared into her big hole for a long time. Rose's sex was not at all aroused yet. He felt the throbbing in his cock. He wanted to make sure she agreed and asked softly if she wanted it. She nodded and immediately replied, Yes Master, she always liked to be fucked, she liked getting fucked a lot! And of course she would love to be fucked by Master Jack now, she let Master know and looked at him expectantly.

He dropped forward from his crouch and quickly penetrated the hole. Rose drew in her breath very quickly and deeply as she always did when a cock entered her vagina rapidly. They didn't kiss, they didn't hug and Rose only clutched his forearms. He had to fuck for a very long time and it took him a long time to finally squirt. Rose was having orgasms at irregular intervals, pressing her face against his chest and her hole was clamming greedily and pulsating. After squirting, he left his stiff cock in her hole and continued slowly. They fucked for over three hours without any major breaks and Rose had several violent orgasms. He was squirting more and more easily now, the knot in his head gradually loosening. In the end he kept fucking even though he had no more semen to squirt. This erection lasted for a very long time. Eventually he stopped, his cock had gone completely limp and he sat back on his heels. Her hole had gotten even bigger from fucking, he could see all the way in. She was still heavily aroused from the last time, he could see that clearly. He said in a rough voice that she should do it herself, he liked to watch. She nodded like a good schoolgirl and whispered, Yes Master! She spread her legs very wide apart and put her middle finger on her invisible clit. She masturbated very differently than Veronika and Jane. She stretched all the fingers of her hand and vibrated them left and right like a fan, faster and faster. When she orgasmed, she pressed some fingers into her hole and made violent humping movements. Then she closed her legs and and pressed her fingers on her clit. He looked into her eyes and asked, Once more? She nodded shyly without hesitation and masturbated again with her eyes closed, just like before. Before the orgasm her legs trembled uncontrollably, she fanned the orgasm again and again with her fanning fingers, a dozen times. At the end her legs were twitching and she made no banging movements in her hole, but stroked her clit slower and slower. She opened her eyes and he asked, One more? but she shook her head in denial and said, No Master, it was enough. They got up and went their separate ways. Dinner at 6pm, he called after her, then rushed to his books with a clear head.

When Rose after his lonely dinner had carried out the dishes and wanted to wash up, he stuck his head into the kitchen, Come upstairs! he ordered. When she came, he was lying naked on his bed with a semi‐stiffy. She undressed without a word and lay down next to him on his narrow bachelor bed. Do you want me to stiffen it, Master Jack? and he nodded mutely. He didn't know how she was going to do it. He was all the more astonished when she took his semi‐hard‐on all the way into her mouth, her hands on his butt cheeks rhythmically urging him to fuck. He fucked obediently in her mouth, that was new and insanely fine! In the middle of it she stopped, if he would rather fuck or cum in her mouth now, Master Jack? He nodded, which she took as squirting in her mouth. He continued to fuck in her mouth and her tongue excited him immensely. She held his butt cheeks with both hands, rhythmically pushing his cock into her mouth. When he came to squirt, she plunged his cock deep into her throat. He squirted slowly and she swallowed his semen with a smile. She kept his cock in her mouth and in between said she was going to make him hard now, Master! She let him fuck her mouth again and when he had gotten hard, they switched places. She had laid down again with her knees up and her legs apart ready to fuck. He fucked her and squirted very little the second time, his semen exhausted. He asked her to masturbate and she masturbated obediently as if at noon, with often repeated short climaxes before the final orgasm and trembling legs. She never again put her fingers in her hole to make fuck movements. The way she was doing it now, that was her thing. When she got dressed again, he wanted to know from her how often she did it to herself. She was a bit puzzled, but then she said every day to fall asleep, usually two times in a row with a long pause where she continued the horny fantasies. Is that okay, she asked uncertainly and he nodded, but she could do it more often like all women. Rose nodded, Yes Master! He asked her not to say anything to Lady Janet, he would like to do that himself. She made another completely unnecessary court curtsy, Good night, Master Jack! and went downstairs.

After breakfast he went into Jane's study, we need to talk, then he improved, I need to talk! Jane pushed her paperwork aside and clasped her hands. He stammered stupidly and couldn't get a clear sentence out. Jane frowned, this was serious. Finally Jack got a grip, told her everything, left nothing out and didn't sugarcoat anything. Emergency, can not squirt, fuck Rose twice and once in the mouth, in the evening again. Jack paused breathlessly, Jane was silent for a long time. She understood somehow, the emergency must have been very great. Whether he still loved her, where she had not come at the right time and left him alone in his distress? Jack didn't respond, Jane wasn't the problem, he was. He silently hugged her, stroked her face, and mumbled that he was sorry. Jane punched him in the chest several times as she pulled free. Rose, she said disapprovingly, why Rose! They talked for a long time about how unwise it was to fuck with the staff, but that was the way it was now. He kept reassuring her how much he loved her and that with Rose it was just something purely physical. Jane shrugged, saying it didn't bother her at all, when all he loved was her.

So it happened that Jack fucked Rose when Jane worked long hours. Whether Jane noticed it, he never knew, he kept quiet about it anyway. Only once she said to him at breakfast that she had to work late again, but she knew he was in good hands. She smiled knowingly and brought the teacup to her mouth with an insidious smile.

Rose always wanted to when he asked her after breakfast. Jane didn't like fucking in the morning, not even on Sunday. But he always loved to cum in the morning, after that he felt really fit. Rose gave herself to him willingly, whenever he wanted, every day. Whenever Jane went out of the house, he would call Rose after breakfast. Soon they were very familiar with each other and she always dutifully said Yes, Master Jack! when he asked her to masturbate after fucking. He would lie face down in front of her sex, watching her twitching hole as he masturbated, and search for her clit. It was light pink and tiny, shaped like a pyramid and turned dark red before orgasm. Her fingers fanned very delicately left and right on the stiff clit and so she prolonged her orgasm stroking until she stopped. He sometimes pushed the surrounding flesh down to make her clit come out further.

When Rose spent her day off with her mother, Jack would ask her embarrassing questions. Her mother was high in her sixties, rarely fucked Frank when she was there, and Rose had to lick her. Lick, lick, lick! Her mother took a very long time to orgasm and wanted to be licked on afterwards. Rose crouched in front of her, face buried in her sex, tongue working the clit delicately but vigorously. Frank fucked her in this crouching position, squirting as often as he could. Actually, she always told Jack the same thing, there was hardly any variety or anything new. Rose asked if she could ask him something private.

She said he was studying medicine and might know some advice. Her menstruation was sometimes irregular, and when it came back, there were sometimes little lumps in the toilet‐bowl. It had looked like a small lizard when she looked at it up close, she said. Jack thought in a flash, then picked up the gynecology textbook. He searched and showed her the picture. She nodded excitedly, only it had been much smaller, Master Jack. He put the picture of a fetus aside and pondered. How many times had it happened, she answered, about a dozen times, or more. Jack remained silent, unable to think of a way to avoid the truth. Rose's lower lip trembled as she looked at him. He gave himself a jolt.

She had been pregnant, but the fetuses, which were the bloody clots, had come off. This is very common, about 30% of all the fetuses came off. He held Rose's hand and explained everything to her in simple words. Rose listened to him attentively. On the one hand it is sad, but you probably won't have children, Jack said. That's good, because you can't raise a child as a housekeeper, and you haven't learned anything else. They were silent for a long time. Then Rose said, "Don't make her a child, don't make her a child!" Then they were silent, both knowing what she meant. She asked if there was anything she should do. Jack shook his head in the negative. It will happen again and again, you don't have to think about it much. If Frank squirts in again, it will happen again and again, but there's something good about that. It is without consequences for you. He left aside the fact that it also applied to him in exactly the same way; after all, he squirted into Rose just as thoughtlessly as her brother.

After this conversation, everything went on as before. Jack enjoyed fucking Rose after breakfast, because he felt fit to study afterwards. Knowing that Rose could not keep children freed him immediately and Rose gradually too. The morning fucking proceeded without ups and downs. Rose instinctively knew that Master Jack loved Milady and that he just needed physical relaxation. She behaved accordingly and tried to do everything right, willing and physically passionate. She didn't want to jeopardize the beautiful getting fucked. Rose made herself available for fucking with a breathtaking naturalness, neither making demands nor forgetting the respectful distance to Master Jack. She had immediately accepted Master Jack putting his head in front of her sex and using his fingers to fully expose her clit as she masturbated. He no longer had to prompt her, for she did it automatically to please him as well.

Jane, of course, instinctively knew that Jack was fucking Rose when she was at BBC full time or out of the house during the day. She didn't really mind anymore, on the contrary, Jack was much more relaxed than before. In the evenings she came home exhausted and she was quite happy not to have to force herself to have sex. She loved to calmly come down from her stressful state, comfortably smoke her cigarettes in the salon, drink her wine and chat with Jack. She felt his warming love and breathed it in comfortably. How indifferent was the question of whether Jack had screwed Rose only once or a dozen times that day. He had told her everything in detail the first time, the squirting in Rose's mouth he had to tell three times, and she laughed gleefully. When he asked once later if she wanted to hear everything in detail, she waved it off, saying she didn't want to hear any details about his fucking Rose. That put the subject to rest. She drank her wine, sucked on her cigarette and felt his love in every sentence when he talked about his studies or asked her about her work, listening attentively. The little bit of fucking with Rose, it didn't bother her at all.

Jane called over from her study, telephone for you!, and when he came she covered the shell with her hand and said it was Sir Peter. Jack answered in amazement and immediately asked how he was, for a few minutes they exchanged trivia. Sir Peter asked if he wanted to come to the Men's Club for lunch. Jack glanced at his watch and immediately agreed, saying he would be there promptly at 12. He told Jane that Sir Peter wanted to have lunch with him, at the Men's Club. He had forgotten with excitement to ask if Jane should come too, but Jane smiled her sphinx‐smile. Peter had said so, she thought, and the gentlemen's club requires a penis! She reached down onto his shorts and, grinning, kneaded his cock. He tore himself away though, there was no time for sex now, he had to hurry. Jane tied his tie and said with a smile, you will be the first surgeon in the world who can't tie his own tie. She called a cab, the bus would take too long.

Jack was over‐punctual and waited, going to the receptionist only three minutes before twelve, where he was told that Sir Peter was already expecting him. The receptionist did not enter his name until he went to Sir Peter's table. Peter rose to shake hands and they sat down. Peter chatted away and then put his fat cigar out in the ashtray in disgust. Even if it was a famous Cuban, it just didn't taste good to him. The steaks were quickly served and they ate the delicious meal. Jack reported on his exam results and his progress, but paused and smiled at Sir Peter, but you already know that anyway, you are always well prepared! Peter smiled very kindly and nodded, it was second nature to him, sometimes that was just necessary, sometimes just good to know, even when meeting friends.

He didn't say a word about the Secret Service, he just mentioned with a smile that there would be a lot written in the newspapers in the coming months. He had been the first to dare to hire Negroes for the service, now, totally unthinkable in 1963. More precisely, three Negroes at once. Yet they were among the best five he enlisted. They were better than the two whites, they were three outstanding talents, diamonds! He resisted the idiocy that only whites were suitable and that Negroes were stupid and unintelligent. He said he couldn't care less if one was black or green or pink‐dotted, all that mattered was character and talent, etcetera. Jack said during the following break that he had never seen a Negro live and had no opinion about it. He thought for a moment, green or pink‐dotted ones would definitely be medically interesting. They both laughed, and Peter looked at him seriously. Maybe one day, sometime in the future, I'll ask you if you want to work for me, he said stretching, maybe you'll think about it. And let's be clear, this has nothing to do with the fact that I helped you at the Academy! I did that only and exclusively for Jane, to tell you the truth. Jack sensed Peter looking at him inquiringly, wondering how much he knew. He got stuck on the word intelligence, his stomach churning. Could he get a port, he asked, and Peter hunched his shoulders theatrically, Do I look like a waiter? Jack laughed sheepishly and waved at the waiter. The port brought calm to his bowels after moments.

Peter asked him directly how he stood by Janet. Jack said he loved Jane with all his heart and did everything he could to keep their life together beautiful, harmonious and without ridiculous quarrels. Neither he nor Peter mentioned the words sister and incest when he said again how much he loved Jane, loved her like none before. Peter was also completely serious and said he loved her like a daughter, she was his princess and even more than a princess. If I find out that you are intentionally harming her, I will wring your neck with my own hands! Jack felt a chill in his chest, because Peter's smile was serious, deadly serious. He returned Peter's look with the same seriousness and promised to do everything for Jane's happiness, and if it cost him his life. He put on a little smile, because if I don't, you'll wring my neck, and that will cost me my life, too. He theatrically drew a headline in the air: The Times reports exclusively: "Intelligence Chief Strangles Medical Student, Single‐Handedly!" Peter laughed uproariously, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Peter turned serious. Jane told me how interested you are in learning more about your father, about Nick, about Nicholas. I'm afraid I can't talk about his work or ours, or I'd have to shoot you right on it, and I don't have a revolver with me, he smirked. So, unfortunately, no, I cannot and must not give you any information. But if you and possibly Jane could happen to be at this address next Wednesday at 4:45pm sharp, it would be good. He pulled a small card out of his pocket and slipped it to Jack. So, Wednesday, 4:45pm!

Abruptly Peter changed the subject, mundane and small talk about Princess Margret's recent escapades. After a few minutes, Sir Peter finished his drink, crushed the x‐th cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. Nice to have seen you in private, see you soon. He shook Jack's hand and led the way, Jack following. He was a little surprised that they didn't pay for the food or drinks. He later learned that this was done discreetly at the gentlemen's club, they were not an ordinary inn.

Jack told Jane about the conversation with Peter, repeating the important passages word for word and discussing everything with Jane. She grinned from ear to ear. My dear old lover wants to know if we're going to fuck. I'll tell him myself next time, with so many piggish details that saliva will run out of the corners of his mouth! She laughed out loud and said, men, oh you men! Jack was very uncomfortable with this and said so. She reassured him, of course Peter knows subconsciously, but he doesn't want to talk about incest, I realize. Maybe I should keep him in the dark, I need to think about it. He said it was probably better not to have an incest debate with Peter. He was, after all, an officer of the kingdom and would not be able to swallow it light‐footed. Jane laughed at the strange word light‐footed.

On the subject of joining the Secret Service, Jane remained vague. It's your decision, she said, on the one hand you would be following in our father's footsteps, on the other hand you would have enough to do for two as a doctor. The only thing I would advise you to do is to finish your studies and don't stop! She hugged him. It has always been your dream and you should not deviate from it my dearest! If you don't enjoy playing doctor, you can always become a truck driver, a gardener or a secret service agent. Jack laughed, nurse would be more obvious, anyway. Then they discussed that there was certainly a long and arduous training for intelligence, that you often had to go abroad afterwards, and that the job was life‐threatening. She was silent for a long time, gazing silently into the night outside the window. I wouldn't let you go. I couldn't sit here and wait for you to come back healthy, come back crippled, or never come back. Jack waited patiently until Jane looked at him again. I, for one, have already decided today that Sir Peter will have to give me much more detailed information, secrecy or no secrecy.

Jane turned the little card back and forth in her hand. Jack had to repeat Uncle Peter's exact words. It has to do with our father, that's for sure. They agreed on that and also that they would be there on time on Wednesday. Jane looked in the city map, an inconspicuous little alley in the banking district. It was not obvious from the map if anything official was located there. The days beaded agonizingly slowly until Wednesday, they took the bus downtown on Wednesday and waited outside the address given. On the second floor was the Royal Scottish Bank, otherwise there was no sign on the tall brick building. At 4:45 p.m. sharp, the door opened and Sir Peter extended his hand and beckoned them in. They silently followed him to the elevator, he put a key in the lock and pressed Basement four times. Only then he took off his gloves and greeted them with a handshake. I will leave you in a moment, I have a lot to do. We're going to the Old Archive, you can look through some documents there. No cameras, don't take anything with you and just make your own notes. The archivist is a friend and he will give us half an hour. All right? he asked, running his hand through his white lion's mane.

On arriving at the bottom, Sir Peter opened several doors with a key that he did not seem to have attached to his keychain. Hanging from the key was a magnetic card, Jack noted with amazement; magnetic cards were a new invention and still largely unknown. Peter entered the last room ahead of them, full of shelves, nothing but shelves. And at the very front across the room a counter made of metal, not a single chair for miles. On the counter a single file envelope, not very thick. You'll be safe here, Peter said, pushing the dusty file an inch closer. Yes, Jack added, I counted eight gunmen, and Peter raised his eyebrows. Well spotted, he said, shaking their hands. He left without a word.

Jane opened the file cover, but at that moment an ancient man, tall, potbellied, bespectacled and bald, approached, eyed them closely, and held out his hand. Shaking hands, Jane and Jack said their names, but the man waved his hand as if shooing away flies. No names, names abound in the files, and pointed back to the shelves. Then he smiled mischievously. I'm Henry, Henry Smith or Henry Brown or Henry the Drunk, take your pick. Henry will do, he said, eyeing them again. No cameras, just your own notes if you want. And don't steal a single sheet, I counted them off. If you still want something, write the file number here in the upper right corner on a sheet, I'll forward it. But usually nothing goes there, so don't get your hopes up. He looked at the two again. So there you are, Nicholas's splendid children! He smiled kindly and added, I was one of your father's instructors and Sir Mossley's as well. Jack took a tenth of a second, that was Peter. He thrust his chin forward and nodded promptly. Henry continued.

The two of them were inseparable, the best agents I ever trained. Undisciplined, womanizing, binge drinking, inn brawling. Just regular guys. But a great team. Peter, the brains and organizer, and Nicholas, the hand for everything. One of the best shooters. Picked all the locks in no time, all the safes, and his hearing failed only on fat Bertha, the biggest safe in Buckingham. When they both screwed the principal's 16‐year‐old daughter for a weekend, — ooh, pardon me, madame! — so after that they almost got kicked out. The one who had betrayed them, they left hanging on the flagpole for a weekend. Then it was quiet again. Jack saw out of the corner of his eye that Jane was taking notes from the files and engaged Henry further in conversation, working in parallel could bear fruit twice over.

And, how did it go with the daughter of the principal? he asked directly and moved a step aside. Henry unconsciously went along with the step and, like Jack, leaned forward to whisper manfully. There were rumors all these years that the two of them continued to fuck the girl without the principal finding out. She later married well and richly, the Lady Bonnaire, she has three children and a stone rich lord. Once she inherits him, she will be one of the richest women in the whole kingdom. Her lovers could fill Wembley‐s bloody stadium, goes the rumor. Oh, I'm babbling like a fishwife here, damn me! and turned to go. But Jack held him back, don't, we're having a great chat. Is that a Scottish accent, Henry wanted to know, and Jack replied, no, his mother tongue is German. All right, sir, said Henry, I love the Scots, quite excellent agents and the toughest in the field. My father was a good shot? Jack nudged the flow of conversation again. Henry nodded with excitement, damn him, one of the best. In the East he once eliminated a target at 1,400 yards, no one could duplicate that feat for many years! Henry turned to go, I have to pee and Anima is waiting for me. Jack looked puzzled and Henry added, the genie in the bottle. He made the universally understood sign for drinking. As he walked, he reminded Jack that when they were done, they should call him because he was the only one who could let them out. Okay, Jack called after him.

Jack looked through the documents with Jane. Most of the abbreviations meant nothing to them. Only a very few documents noted the location of the event, the German‐speaking area, the Warsaw Pact states. Nicholas was fluent in German, Mossley fluent in French, Spanish, some Russian and other Slavic languages. Mainly they cleared safes, bank safe deposit boxes, and especially safes in embassies. Once, the team cleared out two safes in the Kremlin in a feat of hussarism and had already left the Soviet Union by the time they figured it out.

Jane wrote a lot in the notebook, Jack realized that hardly anyone but herself could decipher the scrawl. He glanced at Jane's wristwatch, they had been there for over an hour and Henry only glanced around the corner a few times to see if they were still there. After an hour and a half, they were done. Jane and he looked at each other to see if they were done. Jack called loudly for Sir Henry, tapped the metal counter several times, and called Sir Henry. He came, asked if they were finished, and arranged the file envelope on a small table. Then he escorted them to the elevator. Jack made sure there were really 8 gunmen, 2 on the left, 2 on the right and four in the first room. The guards were reading, submachine guns at the ready. Henry, who had a clear flag, asked for the address card, took it, crumpled it up and put it in the pocket of his gray work coat. The elevator was set in motion with the key, Henry pressed several buttons. "Just in case Sir Peter hadn't mentioned it," Henry said as they drove up, "you were never there, you forget this address, you didn't read a file, and we never met!" Whatever they had read was top secret and they were not allowed to talk about it to anyone. Not anyone, not the newspapers! Henry was completely serious and sober, despite the flag. He stopped in the elevator, said goodbye with a handshake, and said it was a great honor for him to meet the Crawley children. They drove home in silence.

They told Rose they would be down for dinner at 7:30pm and went right up to Jane's study. Jack repeated word for word what Henry had said, and Jane took careful notes of everything. Then she flipped back and reported what she had noted from the documents. Dates of birth, origin. The grandfather was a Baron Crawley, as was Nicholas' father. The grandfather, an engineer, had made a fortune building wagons and locomotives. The father, also a baronet, continued to earn from the factory and sold it to the kingdom when son Nicholas took a very different career path. The father apparently had no problem with this and left Nicholas a fortune of about £20 million and some posh houses when he died in 1935. Nicholas's school reports were good to very good, and he was still listed as a Baronet. He went to King's College at 19 and earned degrees in mathematics and engineering at 24; he was again written Baron Crawley on the certificates. He had met Mossley at college and they both went to MI6.

Evaluation sheets from the three‐year training followed, he had received very good ratings. His knowledge of German was specifically highlighted, his mother Therese von Wallfeldt was from Germany. There were many slips of paper with admonishments, for drunkenness, inappropriate parties and rowdiness. Exceeding the curfew times, unauthorized shooting on the shooting range (that was specially marked clearly with "!!!"). A curiosity was the principal's affidavit to punish the seduction, defilement, and continued sexual acts on his minor daughter with only three days of dark detention and to refrain from prosecution. Jane turned the page and said, roughly, what Henry had told her. She glanced at Jack. A clever fellow, our father, but with a tendency to act like Wolfgang Amadeus. Jack nodded, though he had no idea who this Wolfgang of the House of Amadeus is or was. Jane was much more educated than other Englishwomen.

After dinner they continued the analysis, Jane taking a bottle of white wine and the port upstairs. She had put on two extra pages. She decided on one first. Those from MI6 estimated Nicholas's fortune at just under £26 million. On top of that, there was £2.5 million that he had demonstrably won at the casino over the years. Plus another £2.1 million he had bagged in the various stakes. That meant, according to the file, that he and Mossley had captured £8.4 million from various safes, half going to the Royal Treasury, the rest shared with Sir Peter. He had deposited about £7 million in an extra account when he was transferred to Germany, he lived on that until the end and the rest went back to his widow in London. There was not a single line in the act about his capture or execution. Jane looked up. Not a single line. Nick and Naomi didn't live frugally, she said, yet they left us a tidy fortune. Jack nodded in agreement; Jane had summed things up in an amazingly short time.

You won't like the last sheet, she said, I put it together with a shudder. In summary, Father had been carrying out delicate killing missions with Peter, they were followed by some sort of cleaning crew that made the bodies disappear or otherwise made it look like accidents or something. Under no circumstances was it allowed to look like an MI6 murder. Uncle Peter was the organizer and planner, father the pistolero and lock picker. They worked perfectly and silently, were never caught on assignment, and were already back on the plane when the cleaning crew arrived. Jane stretched and drank her glass of wine in one go before continuing. Our father killed more than 40 people and injured about 100. It was obvious that the primary purpose was to eliminate the target. Bodyguards, called serv, and guards, called sold, were only injured if possible. It seemed that the father did his utmost not to kill these innocents. Peter also participated as a gunner when several had to be taken out at once. For each job, meticulous records were kept of whether the target or targets were eliminated as planned, how many serv and sold were injured or killed. No names were ever mentioned; sometimes there was a reference to location. Few were labeled operation failed, the justifications usually brief and vague. Jane took a deep breath. I'm done, she said, completely done.

They drank wine in silence, Jane smoked far too hastily, and Jack silently studied the sheet of the dead and wounded. There were a few places mentioned, Sofia and Belgrade, Berlin and Vienna, Barcelona and Madrid came up several times. The world order is a big shit, Jack said, why does a major power like the Kingdom have to kill people in Barcelona or Belgrade? Don't we have enough to do here? Kill them? Why not kidnap, imprison or whatever? Killing is so terminal, you can't afford errors in judgment already, goddammit!

Jane had drunk the whole bottle, she looked at him drunkenly and could barely keep her eyes open. Jack helped her stand up and supported her as they trudged into the bedroom. She fell like a sack into bed, but awoke after a moment, her hand brushing over his blood‐red erection. I can't take it anymore, she said stammering, go down to Rose! She stroked his stiff cock drunkenly and lovingly. "Go down, fuck Rose, that's fine with me! Quite all right, yes!" A moment later she was asleep, he held her for a moment longer until she was very deeply asleep.

Quietly he crept down to Rose and woke her. She immediately saw his hard‐on and readily made room. They fucked as they always did, although he had not fucked her in her room before. During the break she lay with her head on his chest and reported that she now usually masturbated 4 times before falling asleep, once as many as 5 times. He remembered in a flash his remark a few weeks ago and continued the thread. Yes, most women do it that often too, on average up to 6 times, until they are exhausted, he lied. Some more than 6 times, some less, on average just 6 times. He had recently read a story in the Times, he said, about a Sheffield housewife who could make herself have over 100 orgasms in an hour. Rose said, wow, that must be a grandmaster, over 100! They fucked again after Rose stiffened his cock in her mouth, then he got up tired, yet somehow refreshed and went upstairs. He lay down with Jane and immediately fell asleep. How amazed he was when Jane woke him up in the middle of the night, at dawn with gentle stroking and stiffened his cock in her mouth. They fucked and Jane had to orgasm several times because his erection remained stiff for a very long time. They slept exhausted until breakfast. As usual, Jane never brought it up that she had sent him to Rose.

Jack shoveled the snow clear from the path to the road before breakfast. He was getting warm very quickly, although he was probably the only one in London shoveling snow bare‐chested. Rose had thrown her hands over her head, oh Jesus Christ! but he waved it off cockily, showing off a bit in front of Jane and Rose was just too tempting. He wiped his sweat with a towel and joked about how warm he had become. At breakfast they discussed writing the facts from the notes neatly in a notebook of their own. She suggested they call it 'The Life of Nicholas J. Crawley'. He thought for a moment, 'Nicholas J. Baron Crawley' would suit him better. Jane frowned, then left it open. They went up to the study and began the fair copy, leaving the title open. Jane called Sir Peter's office and asked for a call back, not urgent.

He called back late that morning, and Jane motioned for Jack to listen in on the witness phone. Uncle Peter, she said, Jack is listening in. First we want to thank you for the trip to the museum, we learned so many interesting things! Peter was reassured by how unobtrusively she phrased it. He waited. She asked why Nick was no longer listed as a baron after graduation. Peter answered immediately. First of all, at his workplace it was not customary to use titles of nobility. Jane was silent, there was more, but her silence told Peter that she wanted to know everything, the second thing. He cleared his throat, there was a stupid story with the boss's daughter. I know, Jane said, the museum guard mentioned it and there was a document in the glass case. Per thought, then remembered. Yes, right, he said, and as a result it got to the Royal Court and the barony was officially taken from him, about two years later. Anything else? Peter asked, and Jane replied that she would be grateful if he could recommend a good make or model for a safe. Peter couldn't name one off the top of his head, but promised to look into it. They said their goodbyes only briefly. If Peter didn't call her Princess, then he probably couldn't speak freely.

When they came to the "seduction, defilement, and continued sexual acts with the principal's daughter" during the clean‐up and copied verbatim the principal's document, Jane added that for this reason the barony was subsequently revoked from him in 1934. It was Jack who wrote this passage in his finest handwriting and licked his lips. Jane agreed, with a heavy heart, that he drafted the passage pompously like a pimply middle schooler. But they shortened Lady B's name and left out her family, the stone‐cold lord, the vast fortune, and the stadium‐filling lovers; it had nothing to do with her father, after all. He read the passage aloud afterward and they laughed tears. Jane gasped and said, in my college the teacher would have made you eat that essay!

Jane and Jack were glued to the small black‐and‐white‐television in Jane's study. The American president, John F. Kennedy, had been shot. They watched the news breathlessly and both felt a deep sadness. Jane had watched a program months ago about the latest research projects in the U.S.

She had heard many praises about the young president. He had vigorously pushed many of these projects in the face of opposition from the old rope teams. Jane had asked Peter's office for a call back. He called almost immediately. A problem? he buzzed, and Jane answered, No, no problem, and hung up. Sir Peter probably had a lot on his mind; she was foolish to want to ask him about the assassination now. They spent the next three days in front of the television, reading all the editions of the Times, the Observer and the Guardian. It was impossible to think about work or study at the moment.

A week later, Sir Peter got in touch and told Jane the Wertheim 820 or 1980 were his models of choice. Jane remembered, the safe. Peter said both models could come with two different locks and gave Jane the address of a supplier. Then they talked about their everyday things, not a word about the assassination. Jane wove in that Jack was in the mood for a steak. Peter immediately agreed. After a short pause, Peter probably flipping through his calendar, he said the day after tomorrow, Thursday, back at the club at 12. Jane agreed, Jack was on the road at the moment and would be on time. He sends her a kiss, he said in conclusion, be good, my princess! I love you very much, Uncle Peter, she said and they hung up.

The phone buzzed, Jane called from the study, It's for you, Jack! He ran over and looked at her questioningly, Jane smiled broadly and shrugged teasingly. It sounded German, she whispered, handing him the receiver. Yes? asked Jack in German, who is speaking? It was Veronika. They greeted each other warmly, though Jack worried that something might have happened. Veronika reassured him it was something good. She had finally gotten her own phone, a quarter line. You know, she explained, there are four people sharing one line. He interrupted, saying he knew what a quarter line was. He wrote down the number on Jane's notepad and repeated it twice. Jane looked at him questioningly and he shook his head, making the okay‐sign with his thumb and forefinger. Veronica told him about her last movie production and Jack cautioned her not to give the number too freely, you know, harassers, serial killers, and so on.

He heard her smile, she had already thought of that and the postman who had installed the phone had said so. Single women, he said. And after that, you'd eat him right up, he joked. Veronika held her breath, there it was again, Jack's magic! A bit meekly she admitted it, but he was such a nice guy and she had only her robe on, with nothing underneath. Naked. When he rang, I was in the middle of it, she tried to explain. I understand, Jack said with a broad grin. Jane didn't understand a word, but she knew that particular grin. Aha!, she said aloud, grinning and reaching for his boxer shorts. He would give the number only to Jane, reliably, and felt Jane's hand on his cock. Veronika said the postman was coming over for coffee next week and his name was Toni, Veronika said. What am I going to do, Veronika wondered aloud, I've never been in love and never had a boyfriend, you know, just some guys to fuck. Jack said there were exactly three possibilities. One, he turns out to be a douche, then never invite him again. Two, it's all about getting the wiener in the pussy, he laughed softly, then don't worry about it, it's probably good for you to do it naturally and off camera for a change. Remember the conception calendar. When it stops, part in friendship.

And third, if it's serious, give yourself and him at least half a year to get to know each other well. A relationship goes much deeper than a friendship, because if it falls apart, you'll suffer like a dog. And during this half year you also have to tell him honestly that you are working in front of the cameras. Clarity and honesty are very important, you can't go wrong. And also give him the opportunity to talk openly about his background and past, maybe he was already in jail? Veronika remained silent, Jack gave her time to digest. And another thing, Jack said, he earns his money at the post office, you in front of the camera. Leave it at that, don't say anything about the aunt's money. You must be very sure about his character and plans. Money, lots of money, spoils friendship and gives a weak character silly, very silly ideas. They were silent. Veronika said she had to think about all this, she would write down the most important things in bullet points right after their conversation. They chatted on for a few minutes, Jack started to say goodbye. Veronika thanked him for his advice and promised to take it very carefully. Then they hung up.

Jane dragged him and his erection to bed, where he reported after the pleasurable fucking. After all, it wasn't that often that Jane dragged him to bed in the afternoon, she usually worked through the day and had Rose bring a snack to the study for lunch. Now they lay side by side, Jane smoking and Jack, for once, in these situations. He reported on the new phone and on Veronika's insecurity about male acquaintances. She interrupted, there was an expression you laughed at, 'shnidelwuds' or something. He explained that those were folk terms for cock and vagina, Schniedelwutz and Fötzchen. What was that about, Jane asked, and he said he needed to elaborate. Jane shrugged, I have time. So he told about Veronika's time in the convent, Father Anselm and Mathilda. At some points Jane pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing rudely. She could now better place Schniedelwutz and Fötzchen.

Curious, she asked if Veronika had really only learned to masturbate and fuck at 25. He nodded, she adopted me when she was 24. Jane wanted to hear Veronika's seduction again, Jack had told her years ago. But he was good natured and in a narrator's mood, so he told it all from the beginning, leaving nothing out and embellishing nothing. How Veronika stood almost naked in the bathroom in the evenings for the first 14 days, curiously watching him masturbate and squirt, and he gradually seduced her. Making Veronika leave the bathroom door open and the connecting door between their bedrooms to spy on her, for example, was something he had done out of youthful curiosity and was not particularly proud of now that he was 23. "Fiddle‐dee‐dee!" said Jane, poking him on the bicep, "watching other people in their nakedness or performing sexual acts is deeply human! Everyone seizes the opportunity when it presents itself, men as well as women. She kissed him gently, so did I, Jack, so did I!

She came back to Veronika. Two questions were on her mind, Veronika's first masturbation at 25 and if this was a Catholic convent, had she got that right? Jack answered, yes and yes. It was true that he had not taught Veronika clitoral masturbation and orgasms until she was 25. How he had had a classmate explain and show him female masturbation and had juicily squirted inside her vagina three times to compensate. Veronika, however, had been doing the rolling around as a form of masturbation since she was a small child, and the flashes she reported that made her legs twitch were certainly little orgasms. He was only puzzled by the fact that she had seen Mathilde and the other sisters masturbating the clit incessantly and had never imitated it. Veronika had explained it by saying that for years she had believed girls didn't grow breasts and clits until they were adults.

And yes, it was a Catholic nunnery and a Catholic men's convent, separated only by a driveway and a meadow. The Catholics were the only ones who preached a strict, almost medieval sexuality on the one hand, but when the sun went down, they went wild with all sexual practices not even common among savage pagans. Jack greatly despised the Catholics for this. Preach water, drink wine, that was a common saying in Germany. Jane knew that he did not live religiously and did not like to broach the subject. Evening came, they dressed and went down to dinner. Afterwards they sat by the sofa with white wine and port and Jane let him tell her in much more detail about Veronica's time in the convent. Jack told willingly, for it evidently occupied Jane a great deal.

Thursday Jack went punctually to the gentlemen's club, where he was kindly greeted by Sir Peter. They ordered whiskey and port, and no sooner were they seated than the delicious steaks were served. The cook apparently knew 100 ways to prepare it, it was different every time. During the meal, Jack let Peter do the talking, but answered every question. Peter wanted to know all about the studies, how it was going with the various internships. How it was going with Jane, he was very interested, Jack reported joyfully about everything, leaving out only sexuality. Jack was clear that Peter knew or at least suspected everything. If Peter would ask him concretely and directly, he would not lie. Peter was visibly satisfied and when the waiter came with the box of cigars, Peter picked out a thin cigarillo. Jack declined with thanks, saying he didn't smoke. He had to correct himself, sometimes he smoked one of Jane's ladies cigarettes, rarely more than three or four a week. Jack made a bet inside, Peter certainly wouldn't finish the cigarillo. He expressed regret that they had called him, Peter, in the middle of the assassination thing, neither of them had thought it through. Peter wiggled the cigarillo, that's already forgotten, sometimes he just didn't have time to talk on the phone.

Then Jack came to talk about the safe. They had chosen the larger model, it was fireproof and the master had explained to them that it was better protected against safecrackers because you had to operate two keys at the same time. The ordinary burglar certainly couldn't do that. Jack said he had a feeling the master might have been alluding to his father, somehow. Peter's surprise was not feigned, he lowered his voice and confirmed Master Halloway was an instructor at his service, he actually trained your father, but it was top secret. He shook his head in amazement, my boy, you really have amazing talents! The way you recognized the guards of the archive, that was unique. Other visitors rarely noticed them, and you were even able to tell their exact number and position. Hats off, my son! He took a drag on his cigarillo and smoked it out half‐smoked in disgust. Won, Jack said to himself as Peter lit a cigarette. Jack smiled at Peter, you seem to be a cigarette smoker, so where did the desire for cigars come from? Peter didn't answer, he asked why Jack wanted to have a steak with him? Jack leaned forward.

He had been thinking since the conversation before last, also together with Jane. He wanted to finish his studies by all means, including internships, which means two more years. After that, he would have to work as a resident for another two years until he got a license to practice medicine, at which point he would be 27 years old. Peter nodded and nodded at his explanations and murmured softly that the only new thing was how clear and serious he was about his career aspirations, the rest he already knew. He continued to smoke hastily. Jack hadn't finished and said he knew about the secrecy in principle, but he would need to know more before any commitment, what was expected of him, what he had to do, and so on. Peter sat back and lit a cigarette. He had counted on that, he said, that is actually a solvable task without violating secrecy. Don't think about it anymore, I'll come to you at the right time. Peter changed the subject.

Jane is working even more than before. Is there a problem there? Peter looked at Jack sharply, not hiding his concern. Jack thought, Peter was really interested in them both. Still, he wanted to leave their privacy and his away. He scratched the back of his head. Jane had been working full time at BBC for 3 days since the beginning of the year, scientific papers piled up in her study, which she read day after day, often late at night. Her studies had completely fallen behind, she hadn't stepped foot in the university since the beginning of the year. Peter kept nodding his head like one to whom a familiar story has been confirmed. Jack said she'd been vaguely offered the head of the science department if she got certified as a journalist. She stung day after day toward that exam. The exam is in 10 days and he was quite sure that Jane would pass very well. I have already told her my doubts, Jack said, there is not a single woman in a management position at the BBC. He had only come to her office twice, he said, but his impression was that it was an all‐male affair. Jane didn't want to hear that they were just taking advantage of her. Her ego wouldn't allow it; she wasn't a victim. She is a very hard‐working woman with clear goals, she does sharp research, and her analysis and reports are of captivating quality, Jack concluded.

Peter nodded in agreement. She works herself to death, he said. But she has more enviers and enemies in the science community than King James. They won't let her rise, they'll break her and crush her like a cockroach. Jack looked up, startled. How so, Sir Peter? Peter didn't make a face at the formal form of address. There are a conspicuous number of inquiries to us as to whether there is dirt on Jane. People don't know anything about my personal relationship with Jane, but it's not just dubious people, it's very prestigious people. We can't ignore this. Peter reached into his jacket and handed Jack two photographs. They were blurry pictures, black and white and fucking shameful. Jack looked at it for a very long time. I can't believe what I'm seeing, he said. "What do you see?" Peter asked, "Seriously!"

Jack said it's Jane, clearly. I don't recognize the guy, nor the location. He bristled. This is a crude fake! Peter looked at him curiously. This is not Jane, there is no Robert there! Peter picked up the picture. "Which Robert?" This woman has no hump, Jack said quietly. Peter dug a small watchmaker's loupe out of his pockets and looked at the picture for a long time. Jack couldn't address the second clue, Jane had never fucked him in that position, she never rode. Once on top, she always cuddled up to him, sliding back and forth and lying on top of him as she orgasmed or he squirted, but she never rode him. He took a chance. When I show Jane the picture, he said, I ask her first who the man is and if secondly she even did it in that position. We talk about sex sometimes, but she's never mentioned that. Peter looked up at him. She doesn't do it in that position? Jack noticed the cliff and replied, she has never mentioned it.

Peter bent over the picture with the small magnifying glass and murmured, my princess never said anything like that to me either. Not on any occasion. Jack pricked up his ears, was Peter talking about his relationship with Jane? Peter murmured softly, I'm seeing Jane this afternoon, I'll talk to her about these pictures. The Observer prints them tomorrow, the Times and Guardian not yet. Muckraking press! My people couldn't spot a fake, not surprising given the poor quality. Our man at the Observer photographed the original accompanying text, silly bum talk. What made me wonder, he writes from the Baroness Crawley and the BBC science desk. It must be someone who was well informed. It will take days to compare the writing with all the typewriters. He looked up. We've got things like that. We'll get it in two weeks at the latest, but tomorrow the storm will break over my Princess. I can't stop it. The time is too short.

Peter glanced at his wristwatch, another cigarette, another whiskey. Jack joined in with a third port, he usually drank no more than two. Before he could ask, Peter said, No, I want to talk to Jane alone. I'll give Jane the photos, maybe you'll want to talk about them in the evening. They drank in silence, said goodbye with a handshake, and Jack took the bus home. As he often did when he was in a hurry, he didn't buy a ticket. The inspector's little piggy eyes flashed blankly, £35 if he wanted the Fine by mail or £5 cash right now. He pressed the £5 note into the civil servant's hand and half cursed corruption as the bill disappeared poof into his pocket. He sat sullenly and ill‐temperedly on his fauteuil opposite Jane's favorite sofa and waited.

Jane arrived relatively late in a cab, growled a muffled hello, and plopped the two pictures on the coffee table. "Am not hungry!" she hissed at Rose, who paled slightly and disappeared into the kitchen with the tray. Jack could smell her subtle flag as she fetched a bottle of wine from the fridge. Finally seated, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from upstairs and sat down. They were silent for a long time before their eyes met. It's not me, she said, and he agreed. He felt the 5th glass of port, they had both filled up properly. She has much broader shoulders than I do and he added, she doesn't have a hump either. Jane's lips trembled as she nodded, Uncle Peter realized it too.

Do you know this man, he asked, and she shook her head. He looks familiar, and I rack my brain, but no name pops up. She drained her glass in one go and he knew she was lying. He was confused, the port had gone to his head and Jane had never lied to him before. He took a cigarette and thought. She replied that she didn't recognize the room or the couple. Her gaze wandered erratically and now he was quite sure she was lying. He refilled her drink and took another port. He stopped counting.

He stopped in front of the coffee table and said, you know him, you know her, you know the room! He remained motionless and looked at her for a long time. She raised her wine glass and said agonized, it was James, it was his office and it wasn't her riding his damn cock. She, unlike me, has a fat ass, a very different hole and her face had been copied into it. James, who I was to replace as boss next year. James who stayed late every night and fucked everyone who felt like it, I saw it many times with my own eyes. The reason they wanted to get rid of him. There were many that good old James invited to pleasure, they lined up because he was supposedly sooo good at fucking. Many colleagues and superiors had something against him because he fucked their wives. She thought she recognized his cock, but the very sharply pictured pussy hole she did not know, she had had nothing with women. And yes, she had fucked James a few times a long time ago, it was nothing special.

So, she said with a heavy tongue, tomorrow I'll see you in the paper, cheers James! Jane finished her glass in one go and he retrieved a bottle from the small fridge. He struggled with the corkscrew, otherwise Jane did it herself. He poured her, it didn't matter anyway, and poured himself a port. "If I were paranoid, I'd think someone was trying to harm not only you, but the science editor, James, and the BBC. Have you told Peter about this?" he asked, and she shook her head, "Where are you thinking?" He called Peter's office despite her lame protests and asked for a call back, it was important and urgent, No, it would not have time until tomorrow. It was already after 9 o'clock, Peter was certainly not asleep then. Less than two minutes later, Peter called. Jack spared any greeting. "He's James, Jane's department manager. It's his office. She couldn't identify the woman. The target was not only Jane and James, whom she was to replace next year, possibly the BBC itself." Peter thanked, this was valuable information. He didn't ask how Jack knew, it was obvious. Peter, surprisingly, chuckled. "You're already working for me, without a contract!" Jack smirked and said jokingly, Yes, boss!. Peter immediately wanted to have the story edited to include this facet and hung up.

Jane looked at him wide‐eyed. He looked at her for a long time, his heart still pounding from the phone call. "First, let's never lie to each other again," he said firmly, "and second, Peter needs all the information he can get if he's going to deal with your shit!" He didn't mean to snap at her like that, but now he had to be clear. Jane had crouched down and clutched her glass. "You're absolutely right," she said softly, "I'll never lie to you again either. And I am grateful to you both for standing up for me like this!" Her gaze grew dim again. "What a shit, tomorrow it will be in all the papers, everyone will just be looking at my fat ass and the cock stuck in my pussy hole!" They laughed for a moment.

She looked at him seriously. End of lies. With James, it had started over two years ago, since he had taken over the department. In the beginning they had screwed very frequently, almost daily. But it waned rapidly, she suspected because she refused to let him inject her mouth. Half a year before he had come, the fucking with James was over. She had never fucked him like the woman in the picture. Jane looked openly into Jack's eyes. That's all, that's all true. He nodded and thanked her for being so open. I'm going to stay home tomorrow and call in sick. Oh, that fucking bullshit! They drank and talked about possible consequences and possible rescue attempts for their ambitions. Jack was amazed at how important this promotion would have been to her.

She wasn't sure she wanted to continue working for the BBC after this scandal. Jack stopped her rampage. First, you didn't make important decisions when you were drunk, and second, you didn't let an opponent win without a fight! Not if you were a Baroness Crawley, he said in a deadpan tone, and they laughed, slapping their thighs. I'm going to sleep, Jane muttered, trying to get up. He hooked her under and they wobbled unsteadily up. She took a step toward the bathroom and he escorted her to the piss. He took her to bed and gently undressed her. She stammered that she was no longer good for anything, that he should just go down to Rose quietly if he wanted to. Yes, if he wanted to fuck, then just go with Rose, I beg you! she whispered, when I'm so drunk, I don't like to be fucked. She fumbled on his pants and found the stiffy, for it had excited him when he stripped Jane naked. She giggled, you need to get down to Rose, you can't fall asleep with an erection like that! He stripped down to his boxers and lay next to her, hugging her lovingly. She palpated his erection more and more slowly and erratically and fell asleep. Jack quietly crept over to Rose and fucked her until after midnight, then lay back with Jane.

They woke up in the morning only when Rose knocked and called breakfast! The eggs with fried ham were almost cold, but Rose didn't want to throw away the good food. Jane drank a headache powder and smoked two cigarettes before eating breakfast. Jack glanced at Rose and smiled at her, then turned his attention to breakfast. The paper boy rang the bell and Rose brought the three papers. He had to leaf through the Observer for a long time until he found the ominous picture quite far in the back. Along with it, a much abridged version of the pamphlet. And then, surprise! Another article, clearly highlighted, which mentioned the author of the pamphlet by name, questioned him about his motives, and where he also admitted that the picture was fake. Jack read both articles aloud because Jane was still too stricken. Jane knew the bad guy, he was one who would rather have himself in the boss chair than Jane. And who wanted to smack James for fucking his wife. Jack had to read the article twice and Jane's eyes sparkled. That fellow will get to know me, she shouted, I'll give him cold and hard. Jack smiled and reached for the phone. At Peter's office, he said there was no need to disturb Sir Peter, he just wanted to leave a note. He dictated, Thank you very much, Sir Peter. Signed Jack Crawley and spelled, but the lady knew his name.

Peter burst in during breakfast, Jane tried in vain to hold her robe together, but her cleft kept peeking out from time to time. It's the bad guy's wife, Peter said. His agents had confiscated the original film from the detective, Peter placed a large envelope on the table before leaving. Jack and Jane opened the envelope, it contained about 50 glossy photos. It was clearly not Jane, the naked woman was clearly older. She was kneeling in front of James, stiffening his thick cock with her mouth. Then, sitting over him, reaching between her thighs and inserting his cock. A series of shots as she rode him violently. She reared up excitedly and visibly orgasmed. She reached between her thighs again and pulled his cock out. His semen spurted into her massive hole and over her ass cheeks. A picture of his glans squirting semen into her big hole from a short distance. The last three shots, her finger rotating on her clit and in the last picture she crouched herself over James, pressing her finger on her clit and visibly orgasming. Jack and Jane looked through the shots several times, the detective had obviously been taking pictures through the window, the shots were excellent and documented everything hair sharp.

Jane called BBC, but everyone was in a meeting. But the department secretary had to get rid of some things. The Thingamabob, you know, the one who had sent the fake photo to the paper, he was summarily dismissed before he even started work. And James — Jane heard her unchaste sigh through the phone — so our James has already been transferred too, I think to the sports department. And the meeting is being held by the professor What's his name, it's about reorganizing the department. The professor is now the boss, replacing James. She sighed and Jane asked if she knew who the screwed woman in the picture was. Well, you, said the simple‐minded secretary, but no, that was the fake! Jane waited patiently and the secretary rustled with the newspaper and mumbled half aloud, I don't know her, although the picture was focused exactly on her little hole. You can really see everything very clearly, said the secretary, the labia, the clit, everything. Only over Jaime's cock was half‐heartedly placed a black bar. No, said the secretary, I can't imagine which one it was. Thank God it wasn't her, otherwise her big birthmark on one butt cheek would be on it. Besides, her own cunthole looked completely different, and the position! No, she would never fuck James in that position. She paused, startled, perhaps Jane didn't realize she had blabbed. When Jane hung up and told Jack about the conversation, she said the secretary had also cleaned James's pipe.

Jack asked if she knew the professor and Jane said yes, he had been involved for a very long time as an 'editor in large', an outside editor. She was completely devastated, the professor literally believed the Lord God created the world in 6 days. Seriously. Jack asked how things were looking for her career‐wise now? She's at the end of her rope, she said, with the professor she just can't. He's too old to grasp modern scientific research and too young to die off soon. The post will bring him a triple‐paying tenure‐track position until retirement, she said, and he won't have to write a paper month after month. Win‐Win. She was realistic enough, he said, and would not wait 20 or more years for an opportunity. She would probably slow down her momentum a bit and go back to working only 2 days for the BBC. Too bad, she said, it sets us back 100 years. Jack hugged her and stroked her hair comfortingly. Working less will do you good, we'll have more time together, for each other. And in the summer we'll have a real vacation with sun, beach and sea. You've been working all summer, you've hardly taken a day off. We'll go away together, we need time for ourselves, time to unwind. Both of us, he said emphatically.

The following weeks she really and energetically put on the brakes, the pay didn't change, even though she really only went to the BBC for two days. No overtime, no working until after midnight. She kept a very low profile, often going into town after breakfast and meeting friends and girlfriends. She loved intellectual debates or those about world events. She affirmed Jack to fuck with Rose after breakfast and sent him to Rose when she didn't feel like fucking. Sometimes she would say it out loud at breakfast so that Rose would have to hear. Jane did not consider Rose a rival, and Jack felt like fucking more often than she did. Jack didn't disturb her in her study and went to Rose whether it took 2 minutes or two hours. A couple of times Jane stood in the doorway by surprise and watched them fucking without hiding. Jack didn't get irritated and kept going, even if Rose looked anxiously at Jane at the beginning. When Rose started to masturbate, she usually left. She had looked at it a few times to the point of orgasm, that was enough for her. Jack spoke to her once quite frankly and she replied that she had just been curious, nothing else.

One evening, as they sat comfortably together drinking wine and port, the phone rang. They looked at each other in wonder, and Jack picked it up. It was not Veronika, as he had suspected, but Peter's office. He would please open the front door, Sir Peter and his men were already there. He went to the door, the four men were just turning from the street onto the path to their house. He greeted Peter with a handshake, who in turn introduced his people as Smith, Brown and Mr. Tatterbee. That's really his name, Peter grinned, and went to greet Jane. I need to search your house, should I request a warrant? Jane and Jack looked at each other and waved it off, saying it wasn't necessary. The three men spread out and went off with their suitcases. One stuck his head into Rose's room and after 15 minutes he called out with a grin, "Oh! Oh! Excuse me!" then waited until Rose had put something on. Peter gladly took the offered whiskey and glanced at his wristwatch. My shift ended exactly 5 hours ago, he said cheerfully, you don't drink on duty! Then he explained to Jane and Jack that they had received tips that the house was bugged. He had to follow up on that.

They chatted about this and that, nothing special. When the men came by, they put the bugs on the coffee table in front of Peter. Peter pulled his watchmaker's loupe out of his pocket and examined the bugs closely. Some East German, some Russian, some of ours. The two from the two phones were English. Peter shook his head, probably meant to eavesdrop on Jane, one bug in the phone, three well hidden. This is getting complicated, he said, and asked which company had done the renovation. Jack went up and brought down the folder from Jane's study. Peter photographed the invoices; I'll have to take a close look at those, too. They were ready after a little over half an hour. Peter said goodbye with a handshake and promised to keep them informed as they left. Rose came closer, her robe not hiding very much. He peeked in the middle of it, she said with an unhappy expression. "In the middle of it, I was in the middle of it. In the middle of it. The light from the kitchen shone straight onto my bed, he just stood there watching me for who knows how long." Jack smiled kindly at her, the guy was clearly curious, he said. Jane asked Rose with a smile if it wasn't a horny kick for her to have someone watching her? Rose stretched her back, then said, if it's you, my Lady, or Master Jack, then I'm glad, but a complete stranger...? her voice trailed off. Jack was tempted for a moment to soothingly caress Rose's bare breasts, as he always did with Jane. Instead, he grabbed her robe to pull it together. He said, the good man will survive, he will dream about your beautiful body tonight while fucking! He watched you because watching someone is just horny and all people are curious. You did nothing wrong, because masturbating is nothing wrong and you have nothing to be ashamed of! Rose nodded uncertainly and left again.

Jack and Jane sat in the parlor for a very long time discussing what it all meant. They puzzled over what it could have to do with BBC. Jane said that BBC had enough well‐trained technicians who certainly knew a lot about bugs. Jack objected that most of the bugs came from the Eastern Bloc. But they could think of nothing to do with the Eastern Bloc. She did not write political papers. She read research papers from around the world, of course, including from the East, but that was about it. Jack had an idea. After all, she was very often on the phone with the editors, tweaking wording or text passages. What articles had she worked on in the last year, in the last six months? She thought long and hard, nothing political, nothing military, nothing industrial. There was a lot of research for business, space, and all the natural sciences. She had written a long paper on the planned use of nuclear power, there were many files top secret, she said thoughtfully. As with any non‐trivial topic, she had talked on the phone with many researchers, and there were bound to be things she was not allowed to write about. She had a good reputation in the scientific community and was trusted to keep her word.

That's the shoe on the other foot, Jack said, the BBC would be spied on through entirely different channels. But eavesdropping on her discreet phone calls made sense. They tossed the idea back and forth. She remembered two more articles, one on the advancement of fly‐by‐wire controls for jet aircraft, and one on the early theoretical work on the Ramjet, which would revolutionize jet aircraft engines. The research had gone on for months, but these papers were never published. These were the things that people might have wanted to spy on when it was really about their work. But maybe it was a spurned lover or a voyeur. Jane countered that a voyeur would bug the bedroom, but that wasn't the case. Jack said with a grin, the lover then! Jane laughed disarmingly. There isn't one, she said, and laughing smugly added, I wouldn't spurn one after all! It was time to go to sleep. Jane promised to let Uncle Peter know what she was thinking tomorrow, if he already cared about our shit. She smiled amiably and Jack kissed her.

Every month Peter sent a technician to check the phones, later only once a month. Sometimes the technician accepted a cup of tea, but he could not answer any questions, he knew nothing about the progress of the investigation. They didn't torment him, he was just following his assignment. The snow was already melting away when a technician again discovered two bugs in the phones, East German ones. Another technician examined the locks but found no signs of intrusion. Jack reasoned that it must have been Rose's day off, because that was when the house was empty for hours and that was the only way to get in unnoticed. Jane talked to Peter about it and promised to let him know when Rose went visiting her family.

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