Posted by PK on February 17, 2009 at 16:39:00:
"It's that time of the month...." Karen announced cheerily in the now familiar way.
"And another Feast Day to boot," Julie grumbled. "Oh joy, four chances to get picked instead of
just one. Doesn't time fly?" She stripped off efficiently, without self-consciousness. "I still don't
know why we have to put on these ridiculous robes. We can't go outside naked because it's mid-
winter, so why can't we just undress from our normal clothes when we get to the main hall?"
Karen shrugged. "Buggered if I know. Tradition, I suppose. Anyway, I rather like it. Gives the
whole thing more of a sense of occasion."
Due to the summer vacation, there had only been three faculty dinners since summer feast day
and, fortunately, neither of the girls, nor anyone they knew well, had been picked. Julie was
beginning to get used to it. She zipped up her leather, calf-length boots. "I might have known
you'd enjoy it," she said. "Oh well, I suppose it does mean we can get dressed again faster when
it's over."
"That's the girl," Karen said. "Look on the bright side. Anyway, don't you think it feels sexy
wearing nothing but boots under a glorified bathrobe?"
"I suppose it might, if it doesn't freeze my arse off on the way to the hall."
Karen snorted. "Made your mind up about the big question? To eat or not to eat?"
"Yes," Julie said. "You were right all along. If I'm picked, I'll roast, so if I get a ticket, I'll eat."
"What changed your mind? I take it you're still not exactly keen on the system."
"Not exactly, no. I just realised I wasn't thinking it through. I was doing things by halves. If I really
wanted to make a protest gesture, what should I do?"
"Bomb the staff lounge?" Karen suggested facetiously.
"No, seriously. I should leave. I'm supporting the whole system just by being here. I should leave
and find a cheaper college or support myself with a part time job. But I'm still here because of the
reduced fees or the course or whatever - it doesn't matter why - so what's the point in making
token gestures and holding my nose? Like it or not, I'm here and I might as well stop pretending
I'm not."
"Welcome to the jungle," Karen said. "Hey, we might be eating together again. I know they're not
supposed to tell, but my Prof has dropped a few hints that I may be up for a ticket this time."
"Hard work has its rewards," Julie approved. "If I get picked, you can eat me and welcome. I'm
sure Richard will." She and Richard had been lovers since the last Feast Day, but she continued
to room with Karen.
Karen gave her a worried look. "It won't happen," she said firmly, perhaps hoping that saying it
would make it so. She had never retracted her declaration of love for Julie, nor had Julie stopped
being heterosexual. They had both learned to live with it. Karen still took casual lovers of both
sexes on occasion, while Julie's sole partner was Richard. By unspoken agreement, neither of
them talked about commitment. There would be time for that after she graduated, if she did.
It wasn't far to the venue. The old main dining hall had been laid out for the Winter Feast, with
four serving tables for the guests of honour and several longer ones for the diners who wanted to
eat sitting down. At the far end were four indoor spit roasting stations. Karen and Julie took off
their traditional white woollen robes in the cloakroom, along with their footwear. The old hall was
well heated, partly by the charcoal beds that would cook the lucky winners of the lottery. It was
already half full of the feasters and their potential meals, some of whom had kept their robes on,
which had been allowed since the days when the hall had been less well heated. Julie hadn't
been bothered by public nudity since the summer Feast Day so she felt quite comfortable naked
and just a bit smugly superior to the girls who kept themselves covered up. The two girls greeted
their friends, lovers and acquaintances as people do at any party.
"Looking good, Richard," Karen noted as Julie gave her boyfriend a greeting kiss. In fact, he was.
Since becoming Julie's lover, Richard had acquired some dress sense, a better haircut and a
less geeky pair of specs. More importantly, he'd assumed a more confident air that added to his
sex appeal. With that, he made a slightly rumpled suit and an open collared white shirt look
dashing. "Hoping to get a piece of me?"
"Always," Richard said, kissing Karen suavely on the cheek but just brushing her lips a little. Of
course he had a ticket to dine, he always got one.
"Down, boy," Julie said mildly. Richard and Karen had flirted occasionally ever since she and he
had hooked up. If she got roasted today, she reflected, they'd probably console each other in
bed. Well, why not? It wouldn't be any skin off her nose as she'd be nothing but bones and
leftovers by then. The thought of them fucking each other, each with a bellyful of her flesh, didn't
offend her. It was not an unpleasing image and Julie felt slightly aroused by it.
The hall was getting noisy and rather crowded with all the female students arriving, most of whom
would depart after the selection had been made. Out of morbid curiosity, Julie drifted over to the
serving tables where the roasts would be cut up. There was a variety of implements laid out for
the job, including a whole set of knives. She picked one up and idly examined it. It was thin and
very sharp, with a slight curve.
"That's what they cut your tits off with," an enthusiastic voice cut into her reverie.
Julie turned around. She might have guessed. "Hello, Jennifer. Thanks for sharing that. Having a
good time?"
"The best!" Jennifer was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. She was
wearing her robe loosely belted at the waist with the top open, so her firm, ripe breasts poked out
and her pubis was intermittently visible when she moved her legs. "I'm so excited!" She indicated
a tall, blonde, male student standing slightly behind her. "This is Adam, my boyfriend. He's going
to eat me if I get picked."
"So will I, if they don't pick me too," Julie said. "If you don't mind, that is."
"Oh, no, that would be great!" Jennifer gushed. "There should be plenty of me to go 'round."
"She's been talking about it for days," Adam observed wrily. "I hope she's still just as pleased if it
actually happens."
"And how do you feel about it?" Julie wondered.
Adam shrugged. "Not sure, really. I'd miss her, for a fact, but if they do cook her I won't be at the
back of the queue when they serve her up."
Jennifer nudged him mischievously. "Oh, come on. You can't wait to get your teeth into me!"
Julie shared a look of wry amusement with Adam. She could imagine what their bedroom
conversations were like. "Well, keep the jolly old fingers crossed," she said ambiguously. "Hello,
Joan." Prof Dougal had appeared, dressed this time, but in a low-cut, short, sleeveless dress that
showed a lot of healthy feminine flesh.
"Hello Julie. Looking delicious as ever, I see."
"Thanks, so are you. I suppose you'll be keeping your fingers crossed too?"
Joan made a rueful face. "I don't know. Mixed feelings, I suppose. Your last essay was quite
brilliant. You'll get a first if you survive the course. And a ticket to dine today, if you're not on the
menu yourself. On the other hand...." she made a palms-up weighing gesture and ran her eyes
pointedly over Julie's body.
Julie nodded. "Anything in particular you fancy?"
"Well, not to put too fine a point on it..."
"Ah, right, of course." As her Head of Department, Joan would get her prime cut. "Anything
else?"
"Your legs, obviously. Roast leg of girl is always good and yours are really fine."
Julie was starting to experience an increasingly familiar tingle between hers.
"But on the other, other hand," Joan continued, "I like you a lot and you don't want to be cooked,
so on balance I'd probably rather they didn't pick you."
"Thank you, that's nice of you," Julie said sincerely. That was quite a concession considering
what Joan stood to lose and how much she enjoyed it.
"But it's not up to me so, if it should happen, I won't let that spoil my appetite while I'm eating
you."
"Heaven forfend. I wouldn't expect it to. Feel free."
"You seem a bit more relaxed about it this time." Joan gave Julie a mildly quizzical look.
"No point getting all worked up about it, is there? If my number comes up, it comes up, nothing I
can do to change it."
"Not nervous, then?"
"Of course I bloody am, I'm just keeping a lid on it. Bit turned on, too, to be honest. What the
hell, I might as well be. The risk's the same either way, why not have the thrill?"
Joan nodded. "I was much the same at your age. Disapproving at first, and nervous, but I came
rather to enjoy it. Even missed it a bit after I graduated, believe it or not. Not enough to do it
again, though. There's such a thing as pushing your luck too far. Some girls get addicted to the
thrill and go in for body gambling. They nearly always get caught out in the end. Speaking of
which...hello Jennifer."
"Hi, Prof. Joan?"
"Joan's fine. May I say - and please don't take this amiss - that I really hope you get roasted this
time."
"Oh no, that's okay," Jennifer said cheerily.
"She lives for moments like this," Adam murmured simultaneously.
"Drinks, anybody?" Joan offered.
"We get drinks?" Julie wondered.
"At Winter Feast you do. It's nearly Christmas after all. There's a table over there...."
"Doing anything tonight?" Adam asked Julie sotto voce.
"You mean if Jennifer gets cooked, I hope?"
"Of course," Adam said stoutly. "I wouldn't cheat on her."
"Of course not."
"No, really. She's fantastic in bed, honest. But if she does get cooked...."
"I'm planning to shag my boyfriend senseless. He's the one over there chatting Karen up. My
roommate, the drop-dead gorgeous one, you can't miss her."
"Oh well, never hurts to ask. Well, not unless some hot chick's jealous boyfriend punches you in
the nose..."
"You may ask, but if you push it he'll rip your head off."
"Wine, beer, whisky or eggnog?" Joan asked.
"Eggnog I think," Julie said. "It's festive, isn't it? Besides, I didn't have much for breakfast." As
usual, she'd been too nervous to eat and had spent most of the morning grooming and primping
as she suspected most of the girls did before selections. Nobody wanted to be picked as a
roaster and then have to be cleaned up because they were too grubby to cook, that would be
embarrassing. All the girls, dressed or not, were clean and tidy. Most of those going naked had
their pubes shaved as well, the rest being at least neatly trimmed. Roasting the students might
have its drawbacks, Julie reflected, but it certainly did encourage personal hygiene. "We're a well-
kept lot of livestock, aren't we?" she mused aloud.
Joan gave her an amused look. "Yes, I suppose we are. I say 'we' because the habit stayed with
me. Female students at the college quickly get into the habit of keeping physically presentable at
all times. Not just clean and well groomed but in good shape. Not much flab or bad skin on view,
is there?"
There was none that Julie could see. "And the college meals are good, too. Some of the best in
the country, I've heard. All fresh produce, well prepared, and well balanced. I'll bet you have a
nutritionist on the kitchen payroll planning the menus."
"We do. We like to keep our students fit. Yes, fit to eat if you like, but why not? Everybody
benefits."
"Hence the free facilities. Gymnasium, swimming pool, evening yoga classes, body parlour, all
free."
"And all optional," Joan pointed out. "The monthly selections are incentive enough."
"Of course. Who wants to be seen naked looking like a shaggy sack of potatoes?" Julie herself
was no exception. Though not prone to violent exercise, she did at least ten minutes yoga a day
and swam in the pool three or four times a week. She depilated her legs and kept her pubes
shaved because she didn't fancy having it done by strangers on her last day on Earth. She and
Karen had checked each other that morning, as they habitually did, to make sure they were
perfectly smooth. Julie had long since stopped being shy about letting her roomate inspect even
the most intimate parts of her body.
"Exactly. We pride ourselves on turning out the best-groomed graduates in the country."
"Those who graduate at all..."
"True, but..." Joan affected a bluff, pompous Colonel Blimp voice, "That's what students need
today, I say. A bit of discipline. Never did me any harm. So what if a few of them get eaten now
and then?"
Julie couldn't help smiling. "All in a good cause, eh? And here I thought you Profs just liked
gobbling hot totty."
"There is that. And I'll be gobbling you soon enough if you don't get registered. Where's your
number tag?"
"Oh shit, I forgot. Thanks for reminding me."Julie looked around. Yes, while she'd been
socialising, they'd set up the registration booth. She hurried over and found Karen nearby
wearing her tag.
"Jules! I was just going to come looking for you. I almost forgot, myself. They'll be checking the
register before long, and...."
Julie nodded. If she was marked absent, it would be straight on the fire for her as soon as they
caught her. She hastily signed in amongst a crowd of recent arrivals, glancing at the clock on the
wall. No panic, ten minutes to spare. She took her tag and hung it round her neck. Nothing to
worry about now except the actual lottery. "Come and have a drink," she suggested. "Joan's over
by the drinks table and Jennifer's around somewhere...."
"Miss 'Born to Roast'? I do hope she gets lucky this time. Oh, don't give me that look. Why not
her? She's begging for it and I'd love to see that luscious bod laid out on a serving platter,
wouldn't you?"
Julie grimaced. Karen had a point, of course, as usual. "I know what you're going to say if I
argue. Somebody has to do it, why not her rather than somebody who doesn't want to. And
you're probably right. I still just can't bring myself to wish it on anybody in particular. Silly of me."
"Yes it is, you soppy thing," Karen said. "Go on, be a devil, go and tell her you hope she roasts.
She'll probably like it."
"Joan's already said that and yes, she did. I just said I'd eat if she got picked."
"Near as you'll get, I suppose. Hi, Jennifer! Juicy as ever, I see. God, I hope they roast you today.
Old Markham says I might get a ticket this time if I don't end up on the table and I fancy some of
that. Let's see the whole menu." She licked her lips ostentatiously. Jennifer stuck her tongue out,
opened her robe and displayed herself.
The Professor of Classics, a distinguished gent in his early fifties, was standing behind her. "'Old
Markham' echoes those very sentiments, Parker, but in respect of you. However, if by some
misfortune you are not destined to end your academic career on my dinner plate tonight, you may
see me at the faculty table and collect your guest ticket. Your work has shown a dramatic
improvement this last term."
Karen was unabashed. "WooHoo! Thanks, Prof!"
"No need to thank me. You appear, by some miracle, to have earned it. Perhaps you finally
decided to apply yourself. If not, and I discover any deceit, I shall be the first to welcome your
appearance at the next faculty dinner."
"Sorry, Prof, but it's straight up. I did some actual work."
Markham nodded gravely. "I feared as much. However, there is still the lottery and one may
always hope."
"Nil desperandum, Prof, hang in there."
Markham nodded again and strode away. Karen punched the air. "Yesss!"
"Congratulations," Julie said. "I think you have an admirer."
"He'd admire my pussy on a plate with a nice glass of claret," Karen retorted half-seriously.
"I'm sure he would," Joan said. "But that was as near to a fulsome compliment as he ever gets.
Bill marks his students hard but he's fair and he doesn't hand out tickets on a whim. If he says
you earned it, you did."
"Oh, I'm not complaining. He's not such a bad old stick and if I do get roasted it's nice to know
my pride and joy won't go unappreciated. I'd just rather not today, especially now I've got a ticket
and Jenny's here..."
It struck Julie again as incongruous, how easily and lightly they all talked about it. "And now you
can do me the honour if my number comes up," she put in and immediately felt mean as Karen's
face fell. "Sorry, Kay..."
"No, you're right," Karen said. "It could be anybody and if it's you, God forbid, I can do for you
what you were going to do for me. And still might."
True. Just because Karen had been picked before didn't mean she was exempt now. She'd kept
her curly blonde-brown hair short since she'd been sheared the first time, as if keeping herself
ready for the spit, though she said she just liked it that way because it suited her. Julie thought
she was so stunningly beautiful she'd look good in anything and fervently hoped she didn't get
picked again. Once was more than enough. "I'll do it if I have to," she said gamely.
"And you'd bloody well better enjoy it," Karen said. She picked up a glass of wine and moved
closer to Julie. "I'll enjoy eating you if it kills me," she said quietly. "Sometimes I think I'd rather it
was me."
"It must be true love," Julie said flippantly. "Sorry, that wasn't funny."
Karen shrugged that off. "Maybe it is. I'm not the altruistic type. Nor romantic, I always thought."
"That's the acid test, isn't it? Putting someone else first? Sometimes, before Richard, I almost
wished I were gay or at least bisexual."
"Just for me? I'm flattered. You can't be or you'd have fallen for me ages ago," Karen said lightly.
"Exactly," Julie said. "You're beautiful and I do sort of love you but not that way."
"I was joking," Karen said uncertainly.
"Were you? I wonder. I wasn't. Maybe I should have slept with you, given it a try..."
"No you shouldn't have. You're just saying that now because one of us might die. Personally, I
can't imagine anything more humiliating than getting a charity fuck from someone you love. You
could have tried it, I know you're not homophobic, so I always assumed you had too much
respect for me."
Julie made a wry face. "Don't you ever get tired of being right?"
"Never. But I'm touched that you thought about it. And I don't ever want you in my bed unless
you really want to be there. Clear?"
"As crystal. Now kiss me. Just a kiss; that I can do and mean it. If that's okay?"
Richard turned up to be with Julie when the numbers were called, just in time to see his girlfriend
kissing the incredibly gorgeous Karen. His first thought was 'Shit, she's gone gay and no way I
can compete with THAT' and he resigned himself to enjoying the spectacle as a voyeur. It was
certainly an erotic tableau, but there was nothing pornographic about it, no blatant bumping of
the genitals as if they were fucking standing up. It could just be an affectionate kiss. That was
okay, then, but it crossed his mind that it looked a bit like Karen, the taller of the two, was
somehow devouring Julie, sucking the soul and juice out of her. Then they broke off and smiled
at each other.
"Thank you," Karen said simply. "That was a GOOD kiss."
Good grief, Julie thought, her head spinning. Why don't her lovers just throw themselves at her
feet and beg her to devour them? "I enjoyed it," she said sincerely. "Oh, hi Richard..." She smiled
warmly at him.
"I think they've finished checking the register," Joan said. "That means we've got time for one
more drink to get us through the Dean's obligatory boring speech before they call the numbers."
Richard gave Julie a greeting hug and kiss. To his absurd relief she felt just like his Julie, with all
the warmth and juice still in her. "That looked like fun," he commented mildly.
"It was. Karen's a great kisser, try it and see."
"Not thinking of batting for the other side, are you?"
"Don't be paranoid. We girls are just less squeamish about kissing each other than you wimpy
guys are."
"Not sexy at all, then?"
"Of course it was. You don't have to be a lesbian to enjoy kissing someone as gorgeous as Kay.
If I were really gay I'd be shagging her on the floor by now."
"Point. Or since you've been rooming with her for months you'd have slept with her by now
anyway."
"I haven't, if it matters."
"I believe you, and it doesn't, really. I just want to know you'll be coming back with me tonight."
"I will, if I don't get eaten."
Richard stiffened. "There is that," he said tightly.
"Sorry, maybe you should have waited until after the selection..."
"No. The only thing worse than watching it happen is not doing. Do you know how much I hated
watching you go off to the faculty dinners without me, not knowing if you'd be coming back....?"
"I know that must have been hard for you.."
"Hard for ME?"
"Yes, actually. It always is when it's someone you....um...."
"Um, what? Like shagging? Someone you care about, you mean, and yes, I do."
"AHEM". Somebody tapped a microphone. "IS THIS ON?" Feedback screech. "Oh, I see that it
is...."
"Warning," Joan hissed. "Dean's speech. Last orders."
Julie grabbed two glasses of mulled wine and thrust one at Richard. "Where have you been,
anyway?"
"I got buttonholed by somebody. Kit Smith, no relation. She's having a problem with a topology
question."
"I'll bet she is. Probably wondering how to get your sausage into her doughnut."
Richard shook his head. "I don't know where you get this idea that all the female students are
after my body.."
"Not all, but some and more than one. A subset, as you'd say. I'd say a large subset. No relation
to whom?"
"Susan Smith. Got roasted at the Summer feast, remember?"
"Oh yes, you always remember the names. I'd have thought her namesake had more to worry
about than maths problems."
"She does, which is why she prefers to think about the latter."
"Touche."
"Faculty members and fellow students..." the PA boomed and droned in a slightly slurred voice.
"Fellow students?"
"My God, he's started early," Joan commented.
"Please, roast me now," Karen quipped.
"If you just stick some cheese in your ears...."
"I wasn't getting at you," Julie explained to Richard. "I'm just saying you're a lot more attractive to
women than you think you are so you don't notice it."
"Kit Smith is gay, I've met her girlfriend. She'd more likely fancy you, or Karen."
"So's Joan, but she quite fancies you. Women are more flexible.."
"Aha!" Richard pounced. "So you do fancy Karen!"
"Oh bloody Hell..." Julie could still feel the kiss. The feel and scent of Karen's body. "There are
statues of saints in parks that fancy Karen. She's living proof that Aphrodite doesn't exist or she'd
have been turned into an antelope or something out of divine jealousy. That doesn't alter the fact
that..."
"I know what this is about," Richard said.
"Oh? What?"
"You're trying to tell me that life goes on, I'll be able to get another girl if you die. Tell me I'm
wrong."
Julie couldn't. Nailed again. "Well..."
"Well nothing. Over the last six months I've come to realise you were right. I could get another
girl. Problem is, I don't want another one. I want you."
"Well, I don't want to bore you," the Dean droned on as somebody tugged at his sleeve. "So we'll
just get on to the pickling."
"Sounds to me like he's pickled already," Joan noted.
Karen giggled. "Do you think he means 'picking' or are we having pickled girl this year?"
"That would take too long," Jennifer said. "They'd have to stick you in a big jar of vinegar and
leave you there for ages. I don't fancy that."
"Sometimes I wonder if she's serious," Julie said. "And yes, if you want me you've got me.
Provided I'm still here after this, of course."
"But you could watch everybody watching you get pickled...." Karen said.
"Of course. God, I hate these things. I can't believe I actually used to enjoy them. So what if a few
girls got cooked? They knew what they were getting into when they came and it wasn't my fault
so why should I care? I knew it wasn't a very nice thing to do but I didn't let that bother me too
much."
"Don't make me out to be a plaster saint, Richard. I enjoyed the summer feast too, once I knew
Karen was okay. I started out all moral and sanctimonious but in the end I ate and danced and
drank with all the rest of you. I could have left after that but I didn't. If I don't get cooked this time I
intend to eat, so don't go feeling guilty if you do too."
"I suppose I'd feel less guilty if they roasted some of us blokes as well," Richard admitted. "You
girls take the risks so I tend to feel you're entitled to enjoy the benefits."
"...marinade," Karen was saying. "In herbal oil. You'd need a facemask so you could breathe in
the jar while submerged and see out...."
"I like that idea," Joan said. "It's a really erotic tableau. A juicy young girl floating in a jar of herbal
cooking oil in the dining room...imagine it, Jennifer. You'd be able to watch all the people who
were going to eat you soon watching you marinade and admiring how delicious you looked, while
you knew you were just food..."
Julie could see Jennifer thinking about it. It was a pitch perfectly aimed at her exhibitionist erotic
fantasies.
"Oh, wow. Could you really do that?" Jennifer wondered dreamily.
"If you volunteer for the next faculty dinner I might be able to arrange it..."
"Hey, no poaching!" Karen protested. "We want to eat her!"
Joan gave a slight rueful shrug. "Can't blame me for trying."
Jennifer was lapping this up like cream.
"Still think we should roast some of you males?" Julie inquired.
"I don't know," Richard said. "It would be fairer, but I don't think many of us would go for it."
"How about you, personally?"
"I don't think I'd look as good being marinaded as Jennifer would, but then I'm just an old
fashioned heterosexual male chauvinist."
"So if we shaved your balls, marinaded you in oil and roasted you, you wouldn't enjoy it just a little
bit?"
"Only if you ate me...oh shit. I'm starting to sound like one of you..."
"The first selection...." a fuzzy, overloud voice droned.
"They should fix that PA," Joan noted.
"Is....um...209. Who's that, Mick?"
"April Dawn Sanders. Lovely name, isn't it?"
A voice from someone Julie couldn't see said "Oh, fuck a duck, that's me." Julie gathered that
she wasn't pleased.
"Second, 116. That's.....Megan Babcock."
"Shit, it's Meg!" Julie exclaimed.
"One of mine," Joan noted. "Ours," she added to Julie.
"Looks like you'll get your prime pussy this time, Prof," Julie said.
"Somebody you know?" Richard gathered. "Friend of yours?"
"In my seminar group," Julie explained. "History department."
"Not one of my best students," Joan added, "But not bad either. Nice girl. I'll enjoy eating her."
"I should go and see her off," Julie said uncertainly. She liked Meg but didn't know her that well
outside of class. Presumably she had friends and lovers she'd be more interested in seeing.
"399, Michiko Taylor...."
"Anybody know her?"
"Not well. Shagged her once, after a party," Adam said. "Pity, she was a good lay, as far as I
remember. Not as good as you, of course," he added for Jennifer's benefit. "Good body, she
should cook up nicely. Not that you wouldn't, obviously...."
"406, Julie Grant."
"NO!" Karen exclaimed.
Julie nodded and checked her tag carefully. "Looks like my number's up," she said calmly. Her
heart was beating a little too fast. "Your lucky day," she said to Joan.
"This can't be happening," Richard said numbly.
"I'm afraid it is," Julie said, still with that odd calm. Reality had changed, just like that, in a
second. She was meat now, a dead woman walking. The others were living in a different world,
where tomorrow existed.
"I'm sorry," Jennifer said. "It should have been me."
"Yes, it should," Karen snapped. "Why don't you volunteer to take her place?"
Jennifer looked unhappy. "I can't..."
"Why not? It's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Not like...." Jennifer shook her head. She looked close to tears.
"Don't do that, Kay," Julie said. "Just don't. Please. It's not her fault." Karen grumbled inaudibly.
Julie gave her a hug and a kiss. "Just make sure you stay for dinner. I'm counting on you. And
it's been great knowing you, really great." She turned to Joan. "I'm sure I can rely on you..."
"Of course," Joan said, "But in a way I'm sorry it's you this time. I'll miss you."
"Console yourself with some fine leg meat," Julie suggested. "Not to mention my prime pussy."
"Well, there is that..." Joan said thoughtfully.
"Richard," Julie began and then they just fell into each others' arms. After a silent, passionate
embrace, she pulled back. "Going to eat me?"
"Yes," Richard said, "Unless you'd rather I didn't?"
"No, that's fine. I just hope it won't upset you too much."
"I'm sure you'll be perfectly digestible," Richard said with a touch of deadpan gallows humour.
"It's you being gone I don't like."
"That's two of us," Julie said. "Still, can't be helped. Wish you could have my pussy." She gave
him a wry mischievous grin. "You've tasted it raw, now try it cooked..."
Joan cleared her throat. "I don't want to intrude," she said diffidently, "But I've always thought it
might be in bad taste to eat two people's pussies in one day. Since I already have one coming
and Richard IS your lover...much as I'd have liked to be..."
Julie turned to Joan. "Really? You mean..."
"Yes. If he wants it. If he doesn't, I'll gobble your genitals with the greatest of pleasure."
"So what was all that flannel about it being in bad taste?" Julie teased. "You old fraud."
"Not so much of the 'old'," Joan said. "All right, it's a fair cop. As your Fairy Godmother I'm
granting you your last wish, all right?"
The PA burped again. "The successful candidates...er...selections...." the Dean paused, "The,
um, roasters....should now report promptly to the kitchen for preparation. It's that green door at
the back of the hall..."
"Thanks very much, Joan. Time to go," Julie said. "Love you all. Don't try to follow me. Karen,
remember what Barb said at the end." She turned on her heel and made her way quickly towards
the kitchen.
Despite her admonition, Richard started after her but Karen grabbed his arm. "Don't," she said.
"She's right."
"About what?" Richard asked impatiently.
"What Barb said after I'd had a lucky escape and she was about to be spitted."
"Which was?"
"'I don't want to spend the next ten minutes watching you being sorry for me'," Karen quoted.
"The next time we see her she'll be spitted. Then she'll want to see us again, to know we're still
here. You up for that?"
"Of course I am," Richard snapped angrily, pulling his arm away. He started to move again and
then stopped, looking lost. His shoulders slumped. "There's nothing I can do, is there?" he said
resignedly.
"Now you're getting it," Karen said. "You could burst into the kitchen and make a fuss. You're
quick and pretty strong for your size, you'd get a few hits in before they threw you out. And
then...?"
"Yes, all right, I get it. It would accomplish nothing and I wouldn't be there to see her off."
Julie approached the kitchen door with mounting trepidation. The trip had been a short and easy
one; the crowd had parted to let her pass. She paused and looked around for the others.
"Hi, Julie", Meg said, coming up behind her. "Bad day for the History department, eh?"
"Hi Meg. You could say that. Where are the others?"
"I think I saw April going in a minute ago. She didn't waste much time. Don't know about the
other one, I've never met her. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be. Can't stand out here until they drag me in. You?"
Megan nodded. "The same. Funny, isn't it? You never think it's really going to be you."
"I thought it was going to be me every time," Julie said. "Now, at last, I can say 'I told you so'"
Megan laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "Lucky you. I've spent half my time at these things
wondering what it would be like and the other half praying I'd never find out." She took a visible
breath. "Here we go, finding out." She pushed the door open and walked through. Julie followed
her.
The kitchen was hot and brightly lit. So hot, in fact, that Julie was glad she didn't have any
clothes on. The cooks looked red-faced and sweaty in their uniforms. On a long, wooden table, a
black girl was being oiled by two assistant chefs in their shirtsleeves.
"Hi April," Meg greeted her. "Having fun?"
"Loving it," April said ironically. "Might as well, I'll be meat on a stick in fifteen minutes. So they
got you too? I stopped listening after they called me, sorry."
"Luck of the draw. This is Julie, by the way."
"Hi, Julie. Pleased to meet you. Sorry it's going to be brief."
Julie murmured agreement as April stuck out a hand and she shook it.
"Up on the table," one of the chefs said to Meg. "We don't have all day."
Julie could see that there was just about room on the table for two. "Where do I go?" she
inquired.
"You''ll just have to wait until we've done these two. Sorry, but it gets a bit crowded in here at
Winter Feast. Do you need shaving? No, I see you don't. You could do with a trim on top,
though. Dave? Shear this one. Sit over there, Miss."
Julie sat down on a bare wooden chair while somebody, presumably called Dave, cut her hair to
the nape of her neck. "I don't suppose you've seen the other one?" he inquired.
"Who? Oh, Michiko whatsit. Taylor? No, not a clue. I don't know her, don't even know what she
looks like, sorry."
"Oh well. I hope nothing's happened to her..."
Julie tried not to giggle. She remembered a cartoon about two executioners waiting for a
condemned prisoner. One of them says "He's late. I hope nothing's happened to him."
"It's always a nuisance when somebody doesn't turn up on time," Dave went on obliviously.
"Throws things right off. No bloody consideration, some people."
"Maybe she's not very keen on being killed and eaten," Julie suggested. "Some people are funny
like that."
"Hmmph," Dave grunted. Obviously he had no patience with such nonsense. "There, you'll do."
He brushed a few stray hairs off Julie's neck. Julie stood up, feeling lighter.
The door swung open and a naked young woman strode in briskly. She had dark-blonde hair and
slightly Asian looking eyes. "Michiko Taylor, reporting for dinner service," she said. "Hope I didn't
keep you all waiting. Mother always said I'd be late for my own funeral."
"About bloody time," Dave noted grumpily, but he seemed more relieved than angry.
"I'm afraid we started without you," Julie said. "I'm Julie, that's Meg and April on the table."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Michiko said pleasantly. "Nice to know who I'll be sharing the menu with."
She gave Julie a brief appraisal, then Meg and April. "Looks like the revellers will be dining well
tonight."
"That's always good to know," Julie said, thinking 'she's mad' and then 'I should talk'. She
remembered Karen grinning and saying 'Well, you know what they say, you don't have to be mad
to work here...'
"Is that the fourth one?" one of the other chefs called.
"Looks like it," Dave replied. "Bit late, but better late than never and at least we won't have to
shave and shear her."
Michiko's hair was quite short already and, like Julie, she was clean shaven. "Always glad to be of
help," she called out. To Julie, more quietly she added, "I was talking my Prof into letting my
boyfriend have my pussy."
"Any luck?"
"Yes, actually. She's always liked me. She's not gay, either, or not very, which helps. Probably
the only woman on staff who isn't. Said she'd have a tit and some leg or rump instead. Maybe
both. Well, she won't get full on one of these." She indicated her modestly endowed chest.
"They're very nice," Julie said. "Not everybody likes them big."
Michiko shrugged. "Most do, but what the fuck do I care? My boyfriend likes them."
"So he should. You've got a lovely figure. I'm sure you'll make a great roaster too. God, listen to
me. We're all bloody crazy, aren't we?"
"Seems like the best option at the moment," Michiko noted. "Jesus, it's hot as Hell in here. I
thought we got roasted outside in the hall?"
One of the cook's assistants butted in. "You do. It gets hot in here because it's connected to the
central heating system that keeps the main hall warm and we've got the vegetables to cook and
the bread ovens as well. Total shambles if you ask me. Anyway, you'll be even hotter in a bit."
"These two are about done," somebody said. "Time to skewer 'em. Dave, shish-kebab time. Grab
a pole."
"Charming," Michiko commented drily. "Well, I suppose we might as well watch."
"Nothing else to do," Julie agreed. "Unless they want us to chop vegetables. Do our bit for the
balanced diet."
"Or mix stuffing. I think a bit of chestnut and truffle stuffing would go nicely with me. Nutty but not
too sweet."
"That sounds like you, all right. There I go again. When does this happen to us, do you think?
Does it start the minute we enrol?"
"I suspect so. It sort of creeps up on you. Human beings can adapt to anything, they say. Well,
we've got about ten more minutes to adapt to THAT." Michiko indicated the table where Meg and
April were up on their hands and knees with their nicely oiled rumps presented to the business
ends of two spits.
"Brace yourselves, ladies," somebody said, and the spits went in.
Julie had heard about the spitting procedure, of course, but she'd never actually seen it done.
From Karen, she'd even heard what it felt like, at least the first part, so she wasn't entirely
surprised by the reactions of the two girls. They both gasped in shock - April actually gasped "Oh
shit, here we go" - but then they steadied themselves and wriggled their bodies around the
shafts, working with them and the men impaling them. They were helping to spit themselves.
"Okay, ladies, nice work. Now this is the big one. It might hurt a bit. Brace yourselves again."
Julie and Michiko watched the pair being spitted in rapt fascination, coloured by the fact that
they'd be going through it themselves shortly. It was encouraging to notice that they appeared to
be enjoying it. Maybe that had something to do with the potion that Karen had mentioned that
dulled the pain. Did it contain an aphrodisiac too, or was that just a woman's natural reaction to
being skewered like a piece of meat?
Thoughts like this kept running through Julie's head, along with things like she'd never marry
Richard or even sleep with him again. Karen would have to get a new roommate. Would she
miss her, Julie, or would she get a gay or bisexual one who'd suit her better? Should she have
tried fucking Karen? That kiss had been really hot. Would Karen fuck Richard? Now she'd never
know if she'd have got a first in History. She'd never finish her private research on the history
behind the legend of King Arthur....
"Funny what goes through your head at times like these," Michiko said. "I keep thinking I'll miss
Doctor Who tonight and I should have set the recorder or asked my roommate to do it."
Julie nodded. It was natural to think about tomorrow, hard to get used to the idea that there
wouldn't be one.
April appeared to be choking on something for a minute and then, pop, the point of the spit
emerged from her mouth, like magic. But this was no illusion. Unlike the ladies 'sawn in half', she
wasn't getting off the stage alive.
"Meat on a stick," Michiko said with what Julie felt was unseemly relish. "Skewered pussy to
mouth. Doesn't she look lovely, like it's her natural position?" Meg uttered a *gack!* noise and
another point popped out. "Two pretty birds, ready to be roasted. I'd eat them myself if I wasn't
going to be sizzling on the next spit. Wouldn't you?"
Julie realised she had her hands defensively over her crotch, while Michiko was quietly but openly
masturbating. "I suppose I would," she admitted reluctantly. "You're really enjoying this, aren't
you?"
"Why not? Aren't you? If you're not, the more fool you. We're meat, Julie, we're going to be on
serving platters in a couple of hours and in the bellies of the staff and our fellow students not long
after that. Get into it. Unless you've got a better plan?"
"The successful...er...roasters have all been accounted for," the PA announced. "All those
without invitations may now leave."
"I'd better go and collect my ticket," Karen said. "Nice seeing you, Jennifer."
Most of the 'unsuccessful' candidates were heading for the cloakroom and the exit with a general
air of relief and a lot of cheerful chatter. Jennifer looked disconsolate.
"What's the matter, Jenny?" Joan asked.
"I've earned a ticket," Jennifer admitted. "But I don't know if I want to stay. You all hate me
because Julie's getting roasted when it should have been me."
"I don't hate you," Karen said heavily. "I was just angry about Julie getting picked. It wasn't fair to
pick on you, Julie was right."
"You'd rather I'd been picked, though."
"Of course I would. I love her. But you weren't and she was, end of story. Julie would have eaten
you if you'd been cooked, she said so."
"She did, actually" Jennifer agreed, cheering up. "But..."
"But nothing. Stay and eat if you like, you've earned it as much as anybody."
Richard and Joan concurred.
"You're right," Julie conceded again. "We're food, might as well enjoy it while we can. Yes, I'd
have eaten Meg and April if I wasn't going to be served up on the next platter instead. I'd eat you,
come to that."
"That's the spirit!" Michiko approved. "And thank you, it's mutual."
"I'm just sorry I won't be there to watch them eat me," Julie went on, getting into it. "Especially
Richard. He'll get my pussy. I've no idea what it tastes like. He's already had it raw...." An
outrageous idea came into her head. "Mind if taste yours?"
"Oh, please do!" Michiko said. "Help yourself!" She opened her thighs invitingly.
Julie dropped into a squatting position. "I've never done this before," she warned. "I don't know if
I'll be any good at it."
"Learn on the job," Michiko advised. "You'll never have a better opportunity."
Julie licked Michiko's moist slit, tentatively at first, then stuck her tongue in further. Michiko
gasped. "Imagine I'm your boyfriend eating you raw," she suggested and then did it again.
Michiko gave a throaty moan and dug her fingers into Julie's hair. Julie started to work at it in
earnest, using her teeth, lips and tongue. She didn't actually bite, but tried to give the impression
she was actually chewing Michi's pussy off. She found she rather liked the taste, and the girls
gasps and moans were quite gratifying. 'Maybe I should have tried this before,' she thought and
then, 'Oh well, better late than never.' She had an idea that her own slit was getting pretty moist
too. Well, that should help when they spitted her. The thought excited her even more.
"God, you're good at this," Michiko said in a strangled voice. "Are you sure you're not gay?
AAaHhhh! Oh, go on! Bite it off!"
Julie was almost tempted to do it, tear into the tender flesh and gulp it down. She gave Michi's
outer labia a nip and the girl squealed but she didn't pull away.
"Oh God, Julie, they're carrying them out! They're going to do us next!" Michiko's hips thrust
forward, forcing her groin into Julie's mouth as she convulsed in orgasm.
"Yes, we are," somebody said drily. "If you've quite finished, ladies, up on the table." To Julie he
added, "Nice job tenderising blondie. We shouldn't have much trouble lubricating her."
"Michiko," Julie retorted automatically. Not much trouble with me either, she thought. She stood
upon shaky knees in time to see April's legs disappear through the door, lashed to her spit,
followed by Meg. "Bye, Meg," she called, feeling a little guilty for not seeing her off properly. She
dismissed the thought. She'd be joining her soon enough.
"The world's going to lose an Olympic class muff-gobbler when they toast you," Michiko
commented as they climbed onto the recently vacated table together. "Never done it before?"
She sounded sceptical.
"No, honest. Naturally talented, maybe. Or maybe you weren't in the mood to be over critical."
"That's a fact," Michiko said. "Well, great job anyway and thanks. I'm still quivering."
"You're welcome," Julie said generously. "I enjoyed it, actually. You were delicious."
The assistants started sloshing oil over them and rubbing it in. Julie and Michiko started rubbing
it into each other too, on a table already slick with oil from the previous pair.
"Aren't you scared at all?" Julie asked quietly.
"Scared and excited," Michi replied. "I'm trying to stick with 'excited'. You?"
"Terrified," Julie said. "And turned on as hell. Now I know how Karen felt."
"Karen?"
"Karen Parker, my roommate. Nearly got roasted this summer."
"Oh, her. Yes, I heard about that. What a trip!"
"She sort of enjoyed it," Julie said. "But for us it's a one-way trip. I'm not expecting any last
minute rescue." She felt a perverse thrill as she said it.
"Look on the bright side," Michiko advised. "We're going to experience what she only imagined."
She rubbed some more oil into Julie's prime cut. "The ultimate fuck."
"We're fucked all right," Julie muttered, but it was half hearted. A growing part of her, she realised
with mixed feelings, was looking forward to it. "I can hardly wait." It was meant to be ironic, but
she wondered about that. She felt about to burst. Any minute now, she thought, she'd be
begging for them to spit her. Was this how it always worked, how all the roasters felt at the end,
or did they panic when the pole really went through? She remembered Barb giving the thumbs
up while fully mounted. She'd accepted it, all right. She spread her legs further, shamelessly, to
give Michiko's fingers easier access. Any residual inhibtions she might have had were long gone.
She imagined herself laid out on a platter, cooked, just like Barb, and felt a massive orgasm
building. She held it in and busied herself massaging oil into Michi's small, firm, breasts, but
couldn't help imagining how nice they'd look on her dinner plate. Who would eat hers?
The assistants continued to oil the parts the roasters weren't doing themselves. One behind
Julie, marinading her shoulders, commented "Nice crop of meat this time, don't you think?"
"Prime," the one doing Michiko's back agreed. "Pity we'll only get table scraps, if we're lucky. The
bloody faculty even keeps most of the leftovers, greedy bastards."
"Won't be much left over from these two, I shouldn't think."
"Or the other two. I wouldn't mind a slice of that black girl's rear end." Julie was about to respond
automatically with April's name but she was preempted.
"April? Lovely girl, it was fun doing her. Fat chance, though. We'll be lucky to get the soup
bones."
"We can dream. I'd love one of this one's tits," Michiko's helper reached over her shoulder and
cupped her right breast, his hand brushing Julie's. "The small ones are tastier, they say, not that
we'd know."
"Hard luck, boys, my Prof's having that one," Michiko said saucily. Her brown nipples were erect
and hard as nuts; Julie pinched her left one with her fingers. "I don't suppose the other one will
go spare either."
"No such luck," her handler agreed ruefully.
Julie was starting to feel left out. What about her tits, didn't anybody want them? Fortunately, her
own assistant rose gallantly to her defence. "Yeah, and just look at the legs on this one!" he
pronounced with an audible drool. "What wouldn't you give for a piece of one of these?"
"Doesn't it bother you at all, preparing women as food?" Julie asked without much rancour, still
feeling flattered. Silly question, they wouldn't be here if it did.
"Nah, best part of the job, oiling up hot chicks and shafting them. I'd do it for nothing, but don't
tell anybody, the stingy bastards would cut my pay," her assistant replied, running oiled hands
down her upper arms. "Besides, you girls enjoy it. Well, mostly. The ones that don't usually want
their heads cut off first."
"Spoilsports," Julie opined facetiously.
"Dead right. Take that pal of yours, Karen Parker, you said? You should have seen her in the oil
bath with her pal."
"Barbara."
"Yeah, well, I helped do those two. Talk about hot. Strictly X-rated. And when we stuck her, she
loved it. I swear she was disappointed when she got let off the hook. The other one - Barbara? -
she came like a steam train when we skewered her. So did the other Karen."
It was outrageous, Julie felt she should say, but there was an uncomfortably real germ of truth in
it. Karen HAD enjoyed the experience. "They didn't have any choice," she pointed out.
"No? Well, they didn't have to come here," her helper rebutted. It was the standard comeback
but she couldn't refute it. She was still here and so, well, here she was. "Enjoy it while you can,
darlin', I'll be gnawing your thigh bones for meat scraps tonight." He patted one of Julie's thighs
for emphasis and smacked his lips.
The other cooks were returning from installing April and Meg on the rotisseries over the roasting
pits in the hall. They looked pleased with themselves. "Lovely job," one of them said. "These two
ready yet?"
"Good enough," Michiko's helper said, "Okay, ladies, up on your hands and knees. Tea break's
over. Time's up."
Julie's heart jumped.
"Aren't we supposed to give them the magic drink first?" her own White Knight protested.
"Oh, yes." Michi's familiar said. He nipped away and in a second came back with two small shot
glasses. "The easy-roast potion. Guaranteed non-toxic, trust me."
Julie knocked hers back in one. Michiko sniffed hers, wrinkled her nose and said, "What the fuck,
can't kill me twice," and drank it.
"Assume the position, ladies," her helper advised again. In a Mancunian accent, he added "It
won't be safe, it won't be calm, but I can promise you this - it'll be the trip of a lifetime."
"Oh, great," Michi said. "I'm going to be skewered by a fellow Whovian. Can this day get any
better?"
"Magnificent," Joan pronounced, viewing the two young women turning on the spits, still alive.
"Megan was a decent student, but she makes a truly wonderful roaster, don't you think?"
"I hope she thinks so too," Richard said, less enthusiastically.
"Judging by her movement, I think she does," Joan suggested.
"The other one's very good too," Karen opined. "Who is she, anyway?"
"April Dawn whatsit. Sanders, I suppose." Adam said.
"You know her?"
"No, but I knew Michiko Taylor once and that's not her, and it's obviously not Julie. Ergo..."
"Looks like she's really enjoying it," Karen said. "Just like Barb did. Maybe like I would have. It's
funny, you just get into it. There's nothing else you can do, so you might as well."
"And in a few more minutes, Julie will be on one of the other spits," Richard said gloomily. "I still
can't quite believe it. I don't know how you can take this so lightly."
"I don't," Karen said mildly, deliberately not taking offense, "But feeling rotten about it won't help
Julie now. I'll be miserable when I wake up in the morning and remember she's gone."
"Sorry," Richard said. "I know that wasn't fair. You've been through this before, haven't you?"
Karen nodded. "With Barb. Of course, I didn't love her quite like I do Julie, but it's similar. Maybe
it's different for us girls. We know it could be us next time so we feel less guilty about it."
"I suppose that's it," Richard acknowledged. "I feel guilty because I'm not at risk and I'm not
doing anything about it. Pointless, I know, but..."
Karen shrugged. "You can't help how you feel. There's nothing you CAN do about it. You can
only be here for her. And you'd better be or I'll never speak to you again."
"Fair enough."
Jennifer was gazing at the rotating forms with a look of rapture on her face, or possibly envy. She
was breathing heavily. "Wonderful," she said in a low voice. "Just look at her..."
She was watching April, who was indeed giving a bravura performance. Her oiled, dark skin
glistened in the red glow of the coals and she looked like a living sculpture of rampant sensuality,
her legs moving and her well-defined belly muscles clenching as she rode the pole as if born to it.
Her breasts moved too as she rotated, dark nipples proudly erect.
"There's going to be a queue for her belly meat," Adam said almost to himself.
"You really want to eat her, don't you?" Jennifer asked softly.
"Who wouldn't? Of course, I'd rather eat you, sweetheart." Adam kissed her cheek, still watching
April.
"Would you really?" Jennifer dropped her robe.
Karen was watching April too. "God, that's good," she said. "If I ever get to fuck the spit for real I
hope I'm that good."
"I'm sure you would be," Richard said diplomatically.
"No, you're not, you're just being polite."
"Wrong," Richard said with some spirit. "I saw you kissing Julie. That was hot and she thought so
too, she told me so. She thinks you're sex on legs and she's not even gay. She's right. If they
ever spit you, you'll make it look sexy."
"And you'd eat me?"
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away. There, I've said it."
"Don't you wish they'd picked me instead of her?"
Richard shrugged, slightly embarrassed at maybe having gone too far. "Yes, but only because I
wish it hadn't been her and no, I'm not angry with you for not offering to take her place. I couldn't
expect that of anybody. I'm not sure I could do it myself and I love her too. I've got the excuse
that they don't cook men at these things."
"And I can fall back on the fact that Julie wouldn't let me," Karen said. "I can't see her doing that,
can you?"
"No."
"I do wish I'd fucked her before they skewered her," Karen said offhandedly.
Richard was working up an indignant response when he noticed that Karen was looking at April.
"You haven't?"
"No. You really think I've fucked everybody?"
"No, just everybody you want."
"Then why haven't I fucked you?"
That left Richard speechless.
"Jesus wept," Joan said, waving a hand in front of her face theatrically, "You could cut the sexual
tension in here with a knife. For the record, I'd wouldn't have minded taking that one to bed
either. I think I did try once, at a party, I'd forgotten the name, I was drunk at the time. No luck,
she's probably heterosexual. What a waste. Not to worry, I'll settle for some of that leg meat."
"Where's Jennifer?" Karen wondered.
Richard looked around. Adam was standing there holding an empty white robe and looking
stunned and bemused. "She's gone," he said.
"Good grief," Joan joked. "Don't tell me you ate her whole. I'm impressed."
Adam ignored that. "She just said 'I'm going to do it' and left. I said 'Don't be silly, you don't need
to do this' or something and she said 'Don't try to stop me, see you later', then she gave me a
quick snog and dashed off. To the kitchen, I think. I should have done something. Now she's
gone."
"Bloody hell," Richard said.
"Let's hope she's not too late," Karen said. "Sorry, Adam." Adam just shook his head.
"Changed your mind about wanting to eat her?" Joan teased.
"No. Yes. I mean..." Adam shook his head again. "I don't know. She was a good fuck but I was
rather fond of her too. She's really nice when you get to know her. Shit." He looked genuinely
sorry.
"Bottoms up, ladies."
"I can't get mine any higher," Julie grumbled, spreading her knees as far as she could without
slipping down. "Is this all right?"
"Perfect. Pass that spit."
Julie looked at Michiko, bracing herself next to her. "Here we go," she said nervously.
"All aboard the roaster express," Michiko grinned. "One-way tickets only, no refunds." Then she
gasped, "Ooohhh."
Julie was trying to come up with a merry quip when she felt her own spit slip into her. It didn't hurt
at all, but her internal muscles clenched involuntarily. "Ah!"
"Relax, please," her impaler suggested. "The first part doesn't hurt unless you fight it."
Julie relaxed deliberately, opening herself to the spit as if to a lover.
"That's it, easy does it."
Julie felt the spit slide forward slowly and steadily, filling her to about a good cock's length. It was
thicker than a penis and harder. It felt wonderful. She thrust back against it involuntarily. She
wanted more. This is how it happens, she realised. I'm a meat muffin, just like Jenny. Her insides
gripped the shaft hungrily.
"Perfect," her impaler approved. "How's yours?" Julie realised he wasn't talking to her.
"Fine," came from somewhere behind and to her right. "Ready? Both at once?"
Julie glanced to her right. Michiko had her eyes closed but now they opened and she winked at
Julie. "Isn't this nice?" she whispered. "Sisters of the spit, shafted together."
Julie leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, causing her spit to pull slightly.
"Hey, steady on," her handler protested. "Do that when we're pushing it through and we'll kill you.
You don't want that, do you? We might as well just cut your bloody head off right now."
"Sorry," Julie said contritely. "I'll be good." Michiko leaned over cheekily and kissed her back,
then straightened up, looking innocent.
"Very touching," Michi's handler said with mock gruffness. Now if you two have quite finished?"
"We're done," Michi said lightly, her voice slightly high. "Go ahead, skewer us."
Julie nodded. "Ready." Oddly enough, she was.
"Thank you. Now brace yourselves, this will sting a bit."
Julie braced herself. This is where it stopped for Karen, she thought. Now I'll know what it really
feels like. Pity I won't be able to tell her. Oh well, can't have everything. Here goes...
"Wait!" somebody yelled urgently. "What the fuck are you doing? That's the wrong kind of spit!
It's not ventilated! What are you trying to do, suffocate the bloody roaster?"
"Shit, didn't notice. Thanks, Chef would have had ME skewered if I'd snuffed her."
Julie waited for the spit to withdraw but it didn't. She glanced aside and saw Michiko's mouth
open as hers was pulled out. "Damnit," she said. I was getting quite fond of that pole."
"Shall I go ahead with this one?" Julie's handler asked from behind her. She heard the kitchen
door bang open.
"NOW what?" somebody inquired.
"Wait," gasped a breathless voice Julie recognised as Jennifer's. "Don't spit them both. Do me
instead. Please."
"Jesus wept," somebody said in exasperation - the same one? "Look, Miss, we've already got
these two nicely prepped. Can't you wait 'til next month?"
"No," Jennifer insisted. "I want to go at a feast. I don't know if I'll last until summer. Do me now."
"I don't know..."
"Oh, come on, please. My boyfriend's got a ticket, there are people here I know who want to eat
me, I'll never be more ready. Be a good sport. I'm already shaved, it won't take long to oil me up."
"Well, it IS nearly Christmas," somebody said.
"And Christ, look at the hooters on that one. Some fine breast meat on that turkey."
"Oh all right," Mister Exasperated said wearily. "What's one more bloody delay? Oil her up and
pop her. We'll have to let one of these two go. Pity."
"Last one in," somebody said. "Okay, blondie, get down."
"Actually," Michiko said, "I wasn't the last one called. I think that was Julie."
"Yes!" Jennifer agreed enthusiastically. "My friend Julie Grant."
"Jennifer," Julie said carefully, "I hope you're not doing this for me." She felt slightly dizzy.
"Oh no," Jennifer said. "I want to do it. But it means you can go, isn't that great?"
"That's a kind thought and thank you for it," Julie said sincerely. "But I'm staying." To Michiko,
"You can go, and thanks for everything."
"Oh gosh," Michiko said. "Are you sure? I was rather getting into it here...."
"Will you two please make your minds up?" Mister Exasperated begged.
"Doctor Who's on tonight," Julie prompted.
"Well, if you put it like that...." Michiko climbed off the oil-slick table carefully. She came around to
the front of the table. "Thank you. It was an honour and a pleasure being your spit partner. I'll
never forget you."
"You're welcome. Give my love to Richard and Karen and all my best to Joan - Prof Dougal - and
tell them to eat hearty and think of me." Richard isn't going to understand this, she realised.
Maybe Karen can explain. I'm not even sure I can.
Richard and Karen were watching the kitchen door closely when it opened. Would Jennifer come
back out or would it be Julie? Or just a member of the kitchen staff to announce they'd decided to
cook them all? What came out eventually was an elfin blonde girl covered in cooking oil. It didn't
take them long to work out who it must be.
"Michiko Taylor?" Richard presumed. "Where's Julie?"
"Still on the spitting table, I'm afraid," the blonde said. "You must be Richard and Karen. Julie
sends her love and hopes you'll enjoy your dinner."
"What? But Julie was called last...."
"I know, but..."
"Where is she?" Karen demanded.
Adam came forward and chipped in. "Michiko? What's happened to Jennifer? What's going on
here?"
Michiko held her palms up. "If you'll all pipe down, I'll tell you, all right? Okay. Oh, hello Professor.
Julie sends her regards. Jennifer is being oiled and is going to be roasted. She seemed very
keen on that. Julie decided to stay too, so I was surplus to requirements. Sorry to disappoint you
all, but it wasn't my idea. Don't shoot me, I'm just the messenger."
"This has to be a mistake," Richard insisted.
"If you're saying I cheated," Michiko began indignantly.
"No," Karen said. "She's gone over the edge, hasn't she?"
Michiko nodded. "Must have. I was on the edge myself. Maybe a bit over. You know, you've been
there yourself, haven't you?"
"I have." Karen turned to Richard. "It gets to where you want them to do it. Really."
"This is insane," Richard said desperately.
"It probably is," Karen said, "But it happens. What do you want us to do, drag Michiko back in
there and insist that they roast her instead? Pull Julie off the spit and drag her back out?"
"Of course not, but..."
"Look on the bright side. At least we now know Julie's going to enjoy it, she's not being dragged
onto the table kicking and screaming. Jennifer's got what she always wanted and Michiko..."
"Miki. Only my grandmother calls me Michiko. I get to see Doctor Who tonight, not to mention
actually survive. That's starting to look like quite a good idea again." She turned to Joan. "I don't
suppose you could pull a few strings so I can stay long enough to see Julie and Jennifer off?"
"You're not staying to eat?"
"Didn't get a ticket, I'm afraid. Not paying enough attention to my studies."
"I suppose I could bend the rules a bit and transfer Julie's ticket to you, since she won't be using
it, in return for hardships endured..."
"That's very decent of you. Actually, it was rather good fun, but who am I to argue with a
Professor? Can you really get away with that?"
"By the time the Feast's under way, nobody on the faculty will care, if they even notice. As long as
there's plenty of girlmeat and the drink doesn't run out."
"In that case, I'd be delighted. Thank you very much."
"Not at all. I'd like to see more of you."
"This is all there is," Miki said with an impish grin, waving a hand. "If you're trying to seduce
me..."
"Yes, of course I am. I'm a lecher and you're gorgeous. Since we won't be having the pleasure of
eating you, why not?"
"Quite. Not that I'm not flattered, but I do have a boyfriend. I'm afraid I'll have to go and tell him
that he won't be having me for dinner tonight. I hope he's not too disappointed. Do I still get that
ticket?"
"Yes, of course. Go and see your doubtless unworthy suitor. If he's too disappointed that you're
still breathing, the offer's always open."
"I'll bear that in mind," Miki said politely. "Excuse me?" She executed a graceful wave to the
company in general and left.
"Almost a pity she's off the menu," Karen reflected. "I've never eaten roasted elf before."
"I'm glad you said 'almost'," Richard said drily. "Nice to see you haven't lost your appetite."
"Well, wasn't she just scrumptious?" Karen pressed. "That lovely, golden gymnast's body with
breasts like little apples and a pubis like a peach. Yummy!"
"Try not to drool. Have you forgotten Julie's being spitted in there?"
"No, and I hope she's enjoying it at least as much as I would have."
Richard shook his head. "I still don't get that. She could have come back..."
"Richard," Karen said patiently, "Women are different, get used to it. Some are more different
than others. Most of us here at this college are attracted on some level by the idea of being
cooked and eaten. Part of us really wants to do it..."
"Part, yes, but.."
"Let me finish. Most of us would rather live, yes. Much rather, most of the time. But when your
number comes up and you don't have that option, you let the part that wants to do it take over.
Because you want to enjoy your last experience and it's like sex, you can't really enjoy it unless
you want it. Before you say 'but' again, if you get let off you should let that go, right? Well, again,
it's like sex. There's a point of no return, like a slow-building orgasm. When you can't stop, you
don't want to.." she shrugged. "I can tell you how it happens, I can't make you feel it."
"I suppose I'll never understand women."
"Why should you? I don't and I am one."
Julie wasn't regretting her decision, but she did wonder a little why she wasn't. Oh well, it didn't
matter now. She was meat, and the notion was oddly liberating.
"Shall we do this one now, then? Just to be going on with?"
"It's going to be a bit awkward spitting one and oiling the other on the same table."
"We should do them as a pair, like the others. It's neater. But..."
"Am I supposed to stand here like a spare dick at a wedding holding this pole up her snatch
while you lot catch up?"
"Excuse me," Julie put in, "Why don't you let me help oil Jennifer up right here and then you can
spit us both together? If she doesn't mind, that is." She wasn't sure how they'd feel about taking
suggestions from the raw produce but it was worth a try.
"Great idea!" Jennifer exclaimed.
"Makes sense I suppose..." someone said tentatively.
"But.."
"Makes a damn sight more sense than wasting another ten minutes arguing about it," Mister
Decisive said. "Do it."
Julie felt the spit slipping out of her with a physical pang of loss. Never mind, it would be back
soon enough, and then they could finish her off properly. She let the anticipation build as Jennifer
clambered up eagerly onto the table, her ripe breasts bobbing.
"Isn't this fun?" Jennifer bubbled.
Fun? Julie wondered. Is that what it is? We're both going to be dead in an hour and all she can
say is it's fun? What IS her degree in, anyway, Fine Arts? She's mad, but what does that make
me? "The most fun you'll ever have," she said. "Pass me some oil, guys."
It didn't take Miki long to locate Charles. He was chatting up Arabella Watkins of the Archaeology
department. He had a glass of wine in his hand and seemed to be having the time of his life. She
had clothes on. It that short while she'd been gone those female students who had dinner tickets
had taken the time to get dressed again and were drifting back into the hall. Somebody had put
some music on, a Beethoven string quartet. Various thoughts ran through her head in a moment,
her senses seemed to have been heightened. She thanked the Powers That Be that Slade's
Merry Christmas anthem had been banned. It seemed rude to intrude, so she did it.
"Hello," she said.
Charles looked round and started as if he'd seen a ghost. That told her everything she needed to
know.
"Miki? How...I mean..this is great.." He moved towards her with an apologetic sideways glance at
Arabella.
Miki stepped aside. "I'm sure it is. Carry on, I'm about to see a friend of mine off."
"Oh, all right. See you later then?"
"No," Miki said. She remembered Karen and Richard waiting anxiously for Julie. "Not if I see you
first." She walked back to Julie's friends, as she thought of them. "I hope you don't mind if I join
your party for the duration," she requested.
"Not at all," Karen said. "Boyfriend gone missing?"
"Gone fishing, actually. He's otherwise occupied."
"Moved on a bit too quickly?"
"You could say that. I can't blame him entirely for the roving eye, I was supposed to be getting
cooked, after all, but he might have looked a little more pleased that I wasn't."
"The bastard," Richard said, in Sir Galahad mode.
Miki shrugged. "And after I'd taken the trouble to argue my Prof into letting him have my pussy
on a plate. Well, he won't be getting it now."
"I feel for him," Karen said drily.
"What exactly happened in there?" Richard wanted to know.
"Richard, don't nag her."
Miki shrugged. "It's all right. There's not much to tell. I came in late after persuading the Prof, and
Julie was there, waiting her turn. We got to know each other a bit while they finished off the other
two, then we helped oil each other. They were just about to spit us when your friend Jennifer
came in and insisted on being roasted. They were going to let me go but I pointed out that Julie
had actually been called last and Jennifer confirmed it. Julie said she was staying anyway, so I
could go with her blessing." She held up a forestalling hand. "And before you ask, no, she didn't
say why."
"So Jennifer took your place," Adam said.
"In a manner of speaking. She didn't do it for me. Not even for Julie, really. She wanted to, she
practically begged them to take her. She said she was ready and wanted to go at a Feast, not a
faculty dinner."
"That sounds like her all right," Adam allowed, and sighed. "Well, that's it then. She finally did it. I
hope she enjoys it as much as she thought she would."
"I'm sorry you've lost your girlfriend," Miki told Richard, "For the record, I liked her too. But if
you're still blaming me..."
Richard waved it off. "No, I believe you. I just don't know what the hell got into her..."
"I do, sort of," Miki said. "I almost didn't get off that table myself. You had to be there."
Jennifer was having the time of her life. "Oooh, that feels good! You don't mind if I oil you a bit
too, do you? I know you're already oily, but..."
"Oh, feel free. Maybe it'll make me cook up extra crispy." In fact, Julie enjoyed the sensation of
Jennifer's hands on her skin. She was enjoying everything, the feel of the wood of the table she
was being prepared on, the sight and smell of Jennifer's voluptuous, edible body, now in the
environment it was made for, the casual comments of the kitchen staff, the warmth of the kitchen
itself. It didn't seem too hot any more. She could smell herself, the healthy sweat and the scent of
her skin mixed with the aroma of the cooking oil, and it was delicious. Of course people were
going to eat her, why shouldn't they? She poked an experimental finger into Jennifer's navel.
Jennifer giggled. "It's so great doing this with you. I never thought you'd get so into it..."
"Neither did I," Julie said, oiling Jennifer's lush belly meat. She remembered eating Barbara's, the
rich balance of fat and muscle cooked to perfection. "It just came over me." This was perfect too,
she realised. Michiko, lovely as she was, hadn't really been quite there. It was right that she had
gone to watch Doctor Who instead. She belonged here, with Jennifer, and soon they'd be lying
on tables together, cooked just like Barbara was, being carved up and eaten. For a fleeting
moment she wondered if Richard and Karen would be sad. It would be nice if they could be there
to see her on the spit. She hoped they'd stay and she could tell them somehow what she'd come
to understand. Maybe when they ate her, they'd know.
"Oh gosh," Miki said.
"Magnificent, aren't they?" Joan said again. The small party had returned to the roasting area
where April and Megan were still turning on their spits. "And, look, they're still alive." So they
were, April still keeping up a vigorous and seemingly tireless pole dancing performance while
Megan twitched and stretched dreamily, like a sleeping cat. "Did you know we didn't always roast
them alive?"
"No," Miki responded automatically, still staring.
"I say 'we' meaning the college," Joan went on. "Before my time, actually. They just used to slit
their throats and bellies, stuff them and roast them like pigs. Then an engineering student
invented the ventilated spit. Got her degree posthumously after they roasted her on it. Then
everybody got in on the act. Improvements in the spit, pharmaceuticals to enhance the
experience and extend survival time, slow cooking during the initial phase...they don't start the
real cooking until they expire from the heat and then...sorry, I'm lecturing. Occupational hazard."
"No problem," Karen said. "It's supposed to improve the flavour, isn't it? Cooking us alive?"
"That's the theory," Joan said noncommittally.
"You don't think so? I thought Barb and Karen Mitchell tasted better than the other two this
summer, the ones who had their heads chopped off first. Maybe I'm biased."
"You'd have to have a blind taste test," Adam suggested. "Roast two girls of similar physiques,
twins ideally, and do one alive and the other dead."
Richard grimaced. "Sounds a bit ghoulish to me."
Karen half agreed. "Scientifically, it makes sense, but I'd prefer to know who I'm eating. Miki, what
do you think?"
Miki started. "What? Oh. I was just thinking that it could have been me up there. If Jennifer
hadn't turned up in the kitchen, if Julie hadn't decided to stay..."
"Any regrets?"
Miki shrugged. "Not really, no. It's a Moffat episode tonight, wouldn't want to miss that. Shit, just
remembered. If I'm staying for dinner....anybody got a 'phone?" She flicked a hand indicating her
state of undress. "I don't have one on me."
Richard handed his over.
"What's the panic?" Karen wanted to know.
Miki punched in a number. "Jill? Yes, hi. No, I'm not, bit of luck. What? Long story, tell you later.
Just record Doctor Who for me, will you? I might be a bit late. Thanks. Okay, later, got to go.
What? No idea. Look, thanks again. Yes, I will, I promise. Hugs. Bye..." She handed the phone
back to Richard, who was giving her a funny look. "What?"
Richard shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Well, okay, it does seem a bit odd. You've just
escaped being roasted alive and you're worried that you'll miss Doctor Who?"
"You don't like Doctor Who?" Miki affected a tone of mock horror. "How un-British. You should be
expelled immediately."
"Of course I do, but..."
"Well, then," Miki said with a tone implying QED. "Life goes on," she added in a gentle tone as if
addressing a well meaning slow learner. "Mine, anyway."
"She's coming down," Karen said helpfully. "It's a sort of trip..."
"The trip of a lifetime," Miki put in. "The only downside is that it's the last one."
"But what a way to go!" Karen added. Miki nodded.
"But Julie..." Richard said.
"Is still up there," Karen said. "And let's hope she stays that way until the end. If she doesn't..."
"Quite. Serious bummer," Miki concluded. "Keep the jolly old fingers crossed, what?"
"Amen to that," Karen agreed.
"And I'm going to stay to see her off," Miki said. "And I'm going to eat her. I hope you don't mind,
I'd like to stay in your company, but I'm going to do it anyway. She'd have eaten me."
"You know that for a fact?" Richard challenged.
"Yes," Miki said, with a sly grin. "She's had a taste already."
Karen gave her a speculative look and a raised eyebrow but said nothing.
"I'm not even going to ask," Richard said. "I'd just like to know how it happens. How you get from
here to there." He indicated April, still romancing the pole.
"Where to start?" Miki looked thoughtful. "Maybe the first time you go to a selection and you take
your panties off and realise that you may never put them on again. That's scary but it's also
exciting. Maybe for some people it's the shoes. Whatever. The first time you come back alive
you're exhilarated. You got away with it. You dread the next time but just a little bit you look
forward to it. The thrill, the relief when you survive. And then you wonder. What did it feel like for
those who didn't? And then the big one: what will I do if it IS me the next time? You can't help
thinking about it."
Karen was nodding.
"But why come here in the first place?"
"Seemed like a bit of a lark at the time," Miki said. "I went to a public boarding school for girls,
very proper. My parents expected me to go to Oxbridge so I decided to join the Army instead.
Nearly did, too, then I thought this would piss them off even more."
Richard shook his head. "I give up," he said.
"Oh, don't do that," Miki said. "I thought we were getting along famously."
"Drat," Karen said mildly.
Miki gave her a quizzical look. "Problem?"
"Only that you're flirting with him."
"And you have a prior claim? I thought..."
"Not exactly. It just means you're probably heterosexual, dammit. And, yes, competition too."
"Ah, I see. I think. Or maybe not. All right, spell it out. I can't spend all night working out the
group dynamics here and I don't want to step on any toes. Not unintentionally, anyway."
"Okay, I quite fancy Richard, and so do you. I also fancy you, and I'd bet so does he. But if you're
straight, I don't have much chance of getting you into bed, hence the 'drat'. It lowers my
expectation of getting laid tonight."
Miki laughed. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it. Looking like you do, you could get laid any
time you like."
"I'm bisexual and promiscuous, not completely indiscriminate," Karen pointed out. "Sure, I could
get laid any time if I'd take anybody who offered. So could you."
"Point," Miki admitted.
"Hang on a minute," Richard said, feeling both pleased and uncomfortable. Miki and Karen, the
best looking women in the room, not to mention the only ones still naked, both fancied him? The
only naked ones, that is, apart from April and Megan, the ones on the spits. Miki and Karen were
looking at him expectantly. "What?"
"You said 'hang on a minute'," Karen explained. "We're waiting."
"Um," Richard said, at a loss. "In case you'd forgotten, I already have a girlfriend." God, that was
pathetic, he thought. He could see the reply coming a mile off.
"Julie is currently being skewered end to end," Miki said bluntly. "After which, she's unlikely to be
much fun in bed." She relented slightly. "Sorry, but she is."
Richard felt an ungentlemanly desire to skewer Miki. Whether with his cock or an actual spit, he
wasn't quite sure. His beloved was in the kitchen being turned into long pork on a stick and he
already had the hots for this elfish minx. It seemed totally inappropriate somehow and he felt
ashamed of himself, but it was impossible not to react to her. A stiff dick has no conscience, they
say. "We might at least wait until she's...." he trailed off. Dead?
"Cooked?" Karen suggested. She made a sympathetic grimace to take the sting out of it. "I know
what it's like. I watched Barbara being roasted and she was my friend. And then I ate her and you
know what? It made me horny as hell. It did you, too, remember?"
But this is Julie, Richard wanted to say. This is different. How, exactly?
"And her," Karen pressed. "Remember what she was like the first time you got together, after the
summer Feast?"
Richard certainly did. Not that he'd exactly been a virgin at the time, but he'd never had sex like
that before. "She told you about that?"
"Not in detail. She didn't have to."
Richard suddenly felt that the whole situation was unreal. He was with two impossibly attractive
and apparently amoral females who lusted for his body while his actual girlfriend was about to
have herself cooked, by choice, and leave him her prime cut to eat. It was absurd, a ridiculously
over-the-top male gratification fantasy.
"She did say to tell you 'eat hearty and think of me'", Miki said helpfully. "To both of you. Look, I
know you'd rather it was me in the kitchen about to come out on a pole and I don't blame you,
but she's in there and I'm here." She made an open double handed gesture as if presenting
herself. It was some presentation.
"We could always try a threesome," Karen suggested. "How about it, Miki? Want to share? I
know you're not gay but if there's a dick involved it's not exactly lesbianism..."
"I'm heterosexual, not homophobic," Miki said. "What?"
Karen shook her head. "Nothing. Just reminded me of something..."
"So, okay, I'm up for it," Miki concluded. "Richard?"
"I think I need a stiff drink," Richard said.
Joan magically produced a shot glass of Glennfiddich. "I'd go for it if I were you," she confided.
"I'm sure you would," Richard said. "Thanks very much." He sipped the fine, single malt scotch
appreciatively. "Didn't you just dump your last boyfriend for moving on too quickly?" he asked
Miko, temporising.
"Not exactly," Miko said. "If I'd really ended up sizzling on the spit I wouldn't have blamed him for
shagging Arabella. The difference is that it Julie had come back alive you'd have been glad to see
her."
"True," Richard conceded. It was ironic, he reflected. He might be the only man in the room
who'd hesitate to jump at the chance of bedding these two beauties and that was probably why
he was getting the offer in the first place. Girls cared about little details like that. "And if she had,
you really would have ended up sizzling on the spit and I'd happily have eaten you," he pointed
out sourly.
"I should hope so," Miki countered. "Do you really think I'd have wanted to be skewered and
cooked and then have nobody eat me? Rather renders the whole process pointless, don't you
think? Trust me, no girl wants that. That includes Julie."
Karen nodded. "That's right. When you're being spitted, you HAVE to believe you'll be eaten and
enjoyed. You especially want people you know and care about to do it. Unless you're one of those
funny people who gets a kick out of the idea of only being eaten by strangers, being anonymous
meat. That's weird and a bit creepy, in my opinion." She shrugged. "I shouldn't judge. It takes all
kinds, as they say."
Richard summed it up. "So what you're saying is that Julie wants us all to eat her and would be
perfectly happy if we all fucked each other afterwards."
"Oh, absolutely," Miki said.
"Got it in one," from Karen.
"Masterly summation," Miki said. "Couldn't have put it better myself."
In a strange kind of way it made sense. Why else had Julie chosen to stay in the kitchen when
she could have come out? "It all sounds a bit too convenient to me," he mumbled.
"Don't you remember what Julie said at the summer Feast?" Karen asked "'It's like a wake.
People are dead and we're all drinking, dancing and eating. And getting horny....' And you
said...."
"'And paying respects'," Richard said. "Yes, I said that."
"You promised you'd eat her," Karen reminded him, "And you're going to have her prime cut.
Don't tell me you're going to wimp out on her."
"I'll eat," Richard said. "After that.....I'll think about it."
"Such flattering enthusiasm," Joan commented drily. "No wonder you hardly ever got laid before
Julie practically dragged you into bed. What a waste. Well, if you don't want them..."
"Hey, take a number," Adam said. "I was here first."
"Who ARE you anyway?" Miki demanded. "You know my name and you look vaguely familiar,
but..."
"You really don't remember?"
"Sorry, no."
"We had sex after that animal party at Robert's. You were dressed as a cat. Well, not dressed
exactly. Body paint and ears. The paint ran..."
Miki snapped her fingers. "And the extra nipples. You were the rabbit? I was going to eat you!"
"That would explain the bite marks and the scratches I woke up with. I thought you just got
carried away..."
"I did. Somebody spiked my drink with acid. I woke up sleeping in a tree. I vaguely remembered
eating somebody alive, then I thought I'd just dreamed it."
"That explains a lot. I wondered where you'd gone. I was pretty drunk at the time..."
"I was being a cat," Miki said. "Cats come and go as they like." Her nose twitched and she grew
whiskers. She crouched slightly and her hands became claws. Her slightly slanted green eyes
narrowed. She was ready to pounce.
She WAS a cat, Richard realised. A predator. He should have realised, the clues were all there.
The lean, athletic body, the small breasts, the attitude....if he went to bed with her, she would eat
him. He looked warily at his glass of scotch. "Did you spike this?" he asked Joan.
"Only with whisky," Joan said with a slightly sinister smile, or so it seemed.
"Marmalade," Karen said.
"BAD wolf," Miki reproved her. "Don't tease. He's disoriented, that's all. It's just the effects of the
aphrodisiac echoing backwards in time."
"Aphrodisiac?"
"Eating Julie's pussy," Miki said. "Lucky you." She licked her lips. "ROWRR....."
Richard felt slightly dizzy. He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have had that whisky. He
pulled himself together with an effort. What had he been thinking? Of course Miki wasn't really a
cat. If things had gone differently, she'd have been roasting meat. And wouldn't she have looked
lovely turning on a spit, dripping with her own delicious juices? It was all too easy to imagine, and
the image stimulated juices of his own. So why, if the women were the ones who got roasted, did
he feel like he was the one being hunted?
"So how about it?" Adam was saying.
"How about what?" Miki looked a bit disgruntled at being distracted from the hunt.
"Well, you know, a rematch?"
"Don't you know it's rude to interrupt a lady when she's trying to seduce somebody?"
Richard couldn't help it. "Well, he did speak well of you. I believe it was 'Good body, she should
cook up nicely'".
"Why are you putting in a good word for him?"
"He also said you were a good lay but not as good as Jennifer."
"Gallant, too," Miki said. "I suppose she was standing next to him at the time? Nice try, but you're
not getting rid of me that easily."
"What would it take?" Richard half joked.
"Simple. Tell me you're not interested and mean it."
Richard didn't know what to say to that. Not interested? His body said otherwise. "What exactly
do you want from me?" was all he could come up with.
"I want to watch you eat Julie and then fuck you," Miki said. "Clear enough?"
"I'd give up if I were you," Joan advised Adam.
"Worth a try," Adam shrugged. "Damnit, Jen WAS a good lay but she's getting cooked and I'm
still horny. I'll enjoy eating her and I know she won't mind that, but..."
"I know. The two hottest women in the room, apart from the ones on spits, are panting after
somebody else. Frustrating, isn't it?"
Adam nodded. "I don't know what they see in him."
"Oh, I think I do."
Adam gave the Prof a quizzical look. "I thought you were...not that it's any of my business of
course..."
"The word is lesbian," Joan said. "But I'm not quite exclusive. Occasionally I get an urge to try
traditional folk dancing."
"I don't suppose you'd consider....no, sorry.."
Joan was amused. "Are you offering to keep a poor old boiler like me company?"
"Yes. I mean, no. You're not that old and you look pretty good to me."
"At your age, anything with tits and a skirt looks good if you're horny enough. Still, I've heard
worse propositions. I've never had a toy boy before."
"And I've never f...slept with a Professor. Is that a 'yes'?"
"Aren't you afraid I'll eat you alive?"
Adam glanced at Miki. "It wouldn't be the first time. Actually, I was kind of counting on it."
"In that case," Joan said, "The answer is 'yes'".
"All right, ladies," somebody said. "I don't think you can get any oilier. Assume the position. Time
we got you cooking."
"The spits should slip right through them," somebody else said.
"Time's up," Julie said to Jennifer, with a feeling of deja vu.
Jennifer giggled. "So much for foreplay..."
"Time for the main event," Julie agreed. She got up on her hands and knees and presented
herself for spitting.
She welcomed the spit back inside her as if it were a lover she'd had to leave to answer the
phone, like the Man from Porlock who'd interrupted Coleridge while he was composing Kubla
Khan in an opium induced ecstasy. Coitus interruptus resumed. She slipped back into the mood
easily. It was a relief. Playing with Jennifer had been fun, but this was where she was really
meant to be. She gave Jennifer a sidelong glance.
"Oh!" Jennifer gasped. "Oh God, this is it!"
"Your dream come true," Julie murmured. She thought she'd heard a slight edge of panic in the
other girl's voice and hoped she wasn't having second thoughts. Too late for that now. "Go with it,
it grows on you." It seemed odd to be advising Jennifer as if she were a veteran of the process
when she'd only had the start of it about, what, ten or fifteen minutes ago?
"Oh, I'm sure it does. I'm just a bit...excited," Jennifer said. She let out a breath. "I mean, it's
really happening!"
"Hey, guys," Julie called. "Haven't you forgotten something?"
"Oh, good grief, what NOW?"
"Doesn't Jenny get her magic drink?"
"Oh shit, yes. Sorry." One of the helpers came up with two glasses and handed one to Jennifer.
"The easy-roast potion. Just drink it. Want a top-up?"
"Just a sip," Julie said. She drank about a third of the glass. "Wouldn't want to sleep through the
main event."
"It won't make me taste funny, will it?" Jennifer asked, eyeing the glass suspiciously.
"Trust me, it won't."
"If it did, they wouldn't give it to us," Julie pointed out. "They're cooks and we're meat. The girls at
the Summer Feast didn't taste funny, did they?"
"No, that's true," Jennifer admitted. "They tasted great. And they all had it?"
"Yes," the helper said. "Everybody does. It's not compulsory but hardly anybody ever refuses.
Still, up to you. If you don't want it...."
"Decision time," Julie prompted.
"I'm sure you know what you're doing," Jennifer said and drank, then handed the glass back.
"I've been meaning to ask," Julie said. What IS your degree in, anyway?"
"Fine Arts," Jennifer said. "oh!" She gasped again as the spit slid in further.
Julie felt her own spit slip in, right up to the cervix. "Think of this as performance art," she
advised. "Your thesis, in fact. You have to present it when you do the pole dance. That's the
appetiser. They say you taste better, the better you dance. The final exam is when they eat you. If
you do it right, you may get a posthumous honorary degree." Would Jenny really buy that load of
flannel?
"Wow, you're right! I'd never thought of it like that. I should have submitted it as my thesis
project. Damn!"
Julie wanted to get on with it, but she felt a responsibility. "Um, guys..."
"Oh God, not again," somebody muttered. "What's wrong now?"
"Nothing," Julie said. "Just take a note to Jennifer's Professor. You can look it up..."
"McGonagall," Jennifer put in. "Fine Arts."
"Got it. What?"
It was a tradition, Julie had remembered, that final requests, if reasonable, should be honoured.
"Just tell him that this is Jennifer's thesis, a piece of performance art."
"And that's it?"
"That's it."
"I'll see to it, word of honour. Now can we PLEASE spit you? If you don't mind, of course?"
"Go ahead," Julie said. I must be mad, a small, almost disinterested part of her mind mused idly.
A lot of people would say I was. The person I was an hour ago would agree. Maybe I am. "No
need to hurry," she added. "We're not going anywhere."
"She's got a point," one of the chefs said. "It's not like that mob outside is going to starve. These
two will still be done by the time they've finished the first pair. So never mind that we're a bit
behind schedule. Do the job right, don't spoil it to save two minutes. Nobody's going to thank us
if we kill one of them by rushing. So everybody take a breath, settle down, and take it steady. All
right?"
"All right", "Okay" and so on everybody muttered.
"Jack, Lennie, are you in all the way up?"
"Think so..."
Julie felt the point of the spit move slightly. "You're all the way up me," she said, her voice slightly
high and breathy. The sensation was excruciating. Not painful, more like an almost unbearable
itch or a tickle. She wanted it to PIERCE her. Full penetration.
"Me too," Jennifer said tightly.
"Thank you, ladies," the chef said. To the others, "Keep a firm, straight line and when I say 'push',
apply a firm, steady pressure..."
"It's not like we haven't done this before," Jack or Lennie grumbled.
"If you ever start thinking this is routine, I've got a job for you peeling potatoes," the chef said.
"Concentrate. Ready?"
"Ready, Chef."
"Say the word."
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, Julie thought. Come on!
"Do it!" Jennifer said aloud.
"Push," the Chef said.
Julie felt a mounting internal pressure. She clenched her hands and locked her arms. She felt
something inside her give way and burst. It hurt, like losing her virginity had, but there was also a
similar sense of relief that was close to ecstasy. "Oh YES!" she hissed. She felt the pole slipping
through her entrails with an almost unbearable delight. She thought she might die of pleasure at
any moment and she was beyond caring. If everybody knew it was like this, she thought, they'd
be lining up to volunteer. The shrinking rational corner of her mind noted that this might not be a
good idea for the world population in general. With startling clarity she remembered something
she'd forgotten for years.
She was eleven years old when her father had caught her masturbating. Not caught, exactly, he'd
walked in on her by accident, returning home from work unexpectedly when she'd been daringly
naked in the summer heat on the living room carpet, watching a TV show she shouldn't have
been watching. "Julie..." he had started to say.
She should had been embarrassed and some part of her knew she would be eventually, but she
hadn't cared. "Hi, Daddy," she'd said.
"I can see you're busy, so I'll leave you alone," he'd said tactfully and left. He'd never spoken of it
again. Julie had almost wished he had. She had waited for him to bring it up for days afterwards.
She had fantasised about him staying there and watching her for much longer. After he'd left
she'd had her first real orgasm.
"Watch me now, Daddy," she whispered as the spit slipped past her heart. "Watch me now."
"Here they come," Karen said. The door to the kitchen opened and two men walked out carrying
a voluptuous naked woman on a spit.
"Oh, Jenny," Adam sighed, shaking his head ruefully. "You've really gone and done it this time."
Joan patted him on the shoulder. "It IS what she wanted," she pointed out sympathetically.
Adam nodded. "I know, of course. Somehow, though, I just never thought she'd really do it. Well,
I certainly hope she's enjoying the ride." Jennifer, eyes closed in what he hoped was rapture, was
writhing slowly and sensuously on the pole as she was carried. She gave the impression that, if
the fires didn't cook her, she do it herself. Her full breasts dripped oil.
Karen, Miki and Richard were still waiting. Two more men came out carrying Julie, similarly
skewered. Richard trailed after them, trying to catch Julie's eye but her eyes were also shut as if
she were entranced. Karen followed, then Miki. They stood and watched as both their friends
were settled onto the upright mountings over the coals.
It was bizarre seeing Julie like that, Richard thought. It didn't seem quite real. He could still
imagine her standing there next to him not so long ago. Talking, drinking, just being his Julie.
Now she was mounted on a spit just like all the other roasters he'd admired in that position, with
or without moral reservations. Not that he'd had that many, he had to admit, until it was his own
girlfriend who was on the menu. Now the worst had happened and she was up for grabs.
Anybody's. Her flesh would be shared out amongst the assembled feasters and he couldn't even
take the moral high ground about it. He'd eaten girls before whom he'd never known personally
and thoroughly enjoyed it. He contemplated her transfixed form with a whole stew of mixed
feelings. "I suppose you'll say she looks magnificent," he said to Joan.
Joan laughed. "Be honest, doesn't she? 'As fine an example of a human roast as I've ever seen'.
That's what I said to her when she said the same thing to me about Barbara. Well, she's every bit
as good, isn't she?"
Richard had a disorienting feeling of deja vu, except that this HAD happened before, but it had
been Barbara he'd been invited to admire the last time. 'She looks fantastic,' he had agreed at
the time. It was impossible to deny that Julie did too. "Yes, she is," he admitted, "At least," he
added loyally.
Julie opened her eyes. "Richard!" Karen said sharply, "Get over here! You too, Miki." She waved
and saw Julie focus on her. "Hi, love," she said softly. "I'm here for you. But you knew I would be,
didn't you?" Julie winked.
Richard couldn't think of anything sensible to say. Julie, focussing on him, raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going to miss you," he said. Julie blinked slowly and then her gaze shifted to Miki. She
looked a question.
"I'm going to eat you, spit sister," Miki said, "We all are. Yes, believe it or not, I got a ticket.
Yours, in fact; you won't be needing it, will you? And, speaking personally, I'm going to stuff
myself and enjoy every juicy bite of you. Then, if you don't mind too terribly much, I'm going to try
and seduce your boyfriend." Julie's eyes flicked over to Karen. "Oh, I don't mind if she shares. I'm
not exactly gay, as you know, but she's so hot she could seduce a stone angel, but you probably
know that, don't you? We can have a nice little orgy once we've filled our bellies with your roasted
flesh. I bet you'll be delicious and a prime aphrodisiac. Is that okay with you?"
Julie stuck up both thumbs. The man fiddling with the rotisserie started the motor.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Miki said as Julie started to turn.
Julie experienced a moment of panic as the spit came up her oesophagus and entered her
throat. Her gag reflex cut in and she was choking, she couldn't breathe. She stretched her neck
and held steady, trying to stay calm. The point of the spit slid out of her open mouth and the
ventilation holes lined up. She took a long, slow breath and the panic subsided. That had been a
bad moment, but it had passed. She would not suffocate in the kitchen, she would not miss
seeing her friends again, she would live long enough to feel herself starting to roast. Enormously
relieved, she relaxed. She had been safely spitted. She wanted to thank the kitchen staff for
doing such a good job on her but, of course, she couldn't. Besides, they only wanted to get her
skewered and over the fire. Quite right, she was party food now. Responding obediently to
instructions from the staff, she slipped down into a prone position and held out her hands to have
them lashed at the wrists to a crossbar. She felt her ankles being tied behind her, fixing her legs
and spreading them slightly apart, so they could cook more evenly. She waited until the bonds
were tight before testing them. She had some movement, but there was no escape, she was
perfectly helpless. She shuddered with delight as the cooks lifted her, preparing to carry her out
to the roasting pits. She could see Jennifer being carried out before her and hoped she was as
happy as she was herself. If only she could tell Karen! She had wanted so much to know what it
was like. Had she really been disappointed when she'd been let off the hook? Now she knew why.
She closed her eyes. If everybody knew it was like this, she thought again, they'd be lining up to
beg for the spit.
How had Karen resisted? She'd come so close and been denied the ultimate pleasure. Julie
remembered her own happiness and relief when Karen had come back alive. Should she have
commiserated instead? No, she realised. Everything was the way it should be. In her mind's eye
she saw Karen, newly shorn, in her coating of oil. She'd been glad that she, Julie, had been
waiting for her. To eat her if necessary. But that wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Now Karen
would be waiting for HER. She drifted off into pleasant reverie.
A truly horrible thought struck her. Suppose something had gone wrong. Suppose Karen wasn't
there to eat her. No, that just couldn't be true. Half fearfully, she opened her eyes. Please, she
begged.....
Karen was there. Of course she was. How could she have lost faith in her even for an instant?
"Hi, love," she said softly. "I'm here for you. But you knew I would be, didn't you?"
Julie winked. There wasn't much else she could communicate in her current position. Karen
would understand.
Richard seemed lost for words. Julie focussed on him and raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to miss
you," he said sadly. Julie couldn't think of an answer to that even if she could have spoken. How
could she explain, console him? She blinked slowly in acknowledgement and then shifted her
gaze to Michiko, who was with them. She raised her eyebrows. What was happening? Well, she
had said 'Give my love to Richard and Karen'. Maybe she could help.
"I'm going to eat you, spit sister," Michiko explained, "We all are. Yes, believe it or not, I got a
ticket. Yours, in fact; you won't be needing it, will you? And, speaking personally, I'm going to
stuff myself and enjoy every juicy bite of you. Then, if you don't mind too terribly much, I'm going
to try and seduce your boyfriend."
Julie had tasted Michiko, now Michiko would eat her. That was perfectly fine. But she'd envisaged
Richard and Karen fucking each other, each with a bellyful of her flesh, and that had pleased her.
This didn't quite fit the vision she'd had. Her eyes flicked over to Karen.
"Oh, I don't mind if she shares," Michiko said, "I'm not exactly gay, as you know, but she's so hot
she could seduce a stone angel, but you probably know that, don't you?" Julie certainly did. "We
can have a nice little orgy once we've filled our bellies with your roasted flesh. I bet you'll be
delicious and a prime aphrodisiac. Is that okay with you?"
Even better than the way she'd imagined it. She stuck up both thumbs. There was a vibration
that ran right through her as the man fiddling with the rotisserie mechanism started the motor.
She felt her body start to turn, her tied hands and feet stopping the spit from sipping around
inside her. The sensation was indescribable and she surrendered to it. She hoped they'd
understood.
'I'll take that as a 'yes',' she heard Michiko say.
All the kinds of 'Yes', Julie thought. She closed her eyes again.
"Tell her you're going to eat her pussy," Karen whispered to Richard urgently.
"I'm not," Richard said.
Karen glared at him. "You're not going to wimp out on her now..."
"No," Richard said calmly. "I'll eat. Just not that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not the one she really loves. You are."
"What? But she's not - I mean - that's ridiculous...." Karen trailed off. "I mean, she's your..."
"My lover,yes," Richard said. "Girlfriend, at least. And I'm sure she's at least very fond of me.
Julie's not the sort to have sex with someone she doesn't at least like. And, yes, we did have sex,
quite often, and she's very good at it. Or should I say 'was'? Not that I'm an expert, but if it gets
any better than that..."
"We could give it the old school try," Miki ventured.
Richard gave her an unreadable glance and pressed on. "So if she didn't have sex with you..."
"She didn't," Karen stated.
"She's pretty much heterosexual, right? What?" Miki had opened her mouth but hadn't spoken.
Miki shrugged. "Okay, we played around a bit when we were being prepared." She shrugged half
apologetically. "Well, you do, don't you?" She looked at Karen, who nodded. "But I'm pretty much
straight too and I enjoyed it. She was fun...."
"I never had any complaints," Richard said wryly. "But love isn't just about sex, is it?"
Karen looked thunderstruck. "You really think....?"
"God, I thought it was men who were supposed to be thick about this stuff. Why do you think she
never moved in with me?"
Karen could have come up with a dozen practical arguments for that. What she said was "How
long have you known this?"
"It's been staring me in the face since this summer. I always suspected it. I've only recently
admitted it to myself."
"She loved me," Karen whispered.
"Loves," Richard corrected her almost harshly, nodding toward the spits. "And she will until she
dies."
"I'm sorry," Miki said seriously.
"It's not your fault," Karen said half-automatically.
"I never said that it was," Miki said with some spirit. "I just meant I'm sorry for your loss. Julie
obviously means a great deal to both of you."
Karen nodded absently and Richard managed a gruff 'Thank you'. He was watching Julie turn
with reluctant fascination. She was moving just as the others had, making shameless love to the
spit and the heat that were killing her. It was almost embarrassing, as if he'd been caught
watching her masturbating, but for the fact that all the live roasters seemed to do it and the
audience of feasters seemed to expect it. Her haunches glistened with oil and sweat in the glow
of the coals as the muscles of her thighs and buttocks flexed. She DID look magnificent, he had
to admit. She was at one and the same time a living, sexy woman and roasting meat. She was
dying, Richard reminded himself, and yet the sight of it was almost unbearably erotic. He could
hardly tear his eyes away.
"Looks like she's having the time of her life," Miki said, half enviously.
Richard sighed. "Let's hope so."
"She is," Karen said firmly.
"And you know that for a fact, because?" Richard inquired sceptically, but his scepticism was a
little forced. Part of him wanted to be convinced. Part of him resisted being convinced too easily.
It shouldn't be too easy to convince himself that it was okay to want to enjoy watching Julie being
cooked and then eat her.
"Just look at her. Besides, I know that for a fact because in her position I would be."
Miki nodded assent. "Too right, as our antipodean cousins say."
"She's not you."
"No, but it seems we have more in common that I thought," Karen retorted. "Be sorry she's going
to be gone tomorrow if you like but don't force yourself to believe she isn't enjoying this now. You
know better."
"Has she ever looked more beautiful than she does now, rotating her lovely parts in a first class
oven?" Joan enunciated as if quoting Shakepeare.
"Oven?" Miki wondered.
"Figure of speech. It's from an old story, back in the era when roasting people was actually illegal.
Hard to imagine, isn't it?"
"No, I read it," Richard said, surprisingly. "As I recall, it was about an anthropologist studying a
tribe of sophisticated cannibals who conned him into letting them roast his beautiful and beloved
wife." The story was oddly relevant to his current state of mind. The cannibal chief had convinced
him that this was what he really wanted them to do with her. "I also recall that the wife wasn't very
happy about it, but by the time it was happening she couldn't object."
"Quite right," Joan said. "She was tricked into doing a demonstration and by the time she was
spitted she couldn't speak. Did you enjoy the story?"
Richard grunted.
"Were you relieved when she was rescued or disappointed?" Joan persisted.
"Rescued?" Miki objected. "How? When you're spitted, that's it, the only way off it is onto a
serving platter. You're a goner. Kaput. On your way to meet your maker. You are an ex-person,
not quite dead yet but meat already. It's a one-way trip. Sorry, Richard..."
Richard grunted again.
"Double ended spit," Joan said aside. "One for the engineering students to ponder. Don't worry
about it, it was just a story. Well, Richard?"
"Well what?" Richard temporised.
"Were you relieved or disappointed?"
Richard shrugged. "Bit of both, I suppose. But as you said, it was just a story. This is real."
"True," Joan said, "But it differs in one other respect. Julie chose to do this."
"Double ended spit, eh?" Miki mused. "That's interesting..."
Richard and Joan looked at her.
"What? I'm an engineering student. If it weren't for us there wouldn't be all this," she indicated
the women turning on spits. "They'd just chop their heads off, gut 'em and roast 'em like pigs. No
fun at all. Well, not for them, anyway." She regarded Julie again. "And not quite so much for us.
God, doesn't she just make your mouth water?"
"Indeed she does," Joan replied. "There's nothing that stimulates the juices quite so much as the
sight of a beautiful young woman being roasted alive. Even more so, I think when you know her.
A pity I'll never read one of her excellent essays again. Quite brilliant, some of them. This is quite
an occasion. It's not every day I get to eat my best student."
Richard's face twisted and he turned away. "I need a drink," he muttered and stalked off.
"He'll be back," Joan said.
"I hope so," Karen said thoughtfully. "Um, Miki, if he doesn't, are you still on for tonight?"
"You mean will I go to bed with you if Richard isn't there?"
"Yes, got it in one," Karen said, with the air of stating the bleeding obvious.
Miki made a face. "For one, I'm not used to being a consolation prize...."
"You're not," Karen said. "I really fancy you. I told Richard I was almost sorry you didn't get
roasted because I'd have loved to eat you. Ask him, if he ever comes back. For second, you were
about to say, you're not a lesbian. Fine, you're straight. Take a night off and be perverse. Don't try
to kid me the very idea of it makes you sick because I don't believe it. If you don't fancy it, or me,
just say so. I won't take it amiss, I CAN take 'no' for an answer."
"No," Miki said, watching Karen's face.
"Drat," Karen said. "I was so looking forward to fucking you. Oh well, can't be helped. No hard
feelings? Because we're going to be eating together...." she looked hopeful.
"Yes," Miki said. "And no, no hard feelings. And I'd be happy to have dinner with you."
Karen smiled. "That's a relief." She seemed genuinely pleased.
"And then I'll sleep with you if the offer's still open. What the fuck, if I'm going to try it with a girl it
may as well be the most beautiful one on campus."
Karen looked nonplussed.
"If it's true what they say," Miki continued, "We're going to be very horny after we've eaten her. I
am already. I just don't like being taken for granted."
"I didn't..."
Miki waved a hand. "I know, it's just that women as beautiful as you tend to think of themselves
as God's gift. Men too, some of them."
"Not Richard," Karen pointed out. "He hasn't a clue how hot he is."
"And isn't that SO sexy?" Miki gave her a girl-to-girl smirk.
"I've lusted after him ever since the Summer Feast, to be honest. I didn't do anything because he
was Julie's man. They seemed to have this traditional pair bonding thing going on." She
shrugged. "I didn't want to get in the way of that. I wanted the best for her...." her eyes watered.
She brushed tears away angrily. "Sorry, got a bit weepy there..."
"Don't mention it," Miki said softly.
"Oh, I flirted a bit," Karen went on, as if needing to unburden herself. "It was all just fun, I do that
all the time with anybody I find fanciable. He played along, it was harmless, Julie didn't mind. I
hope."
"I'm sure she understood," Miki reassured her.
"Everybody thinks I'm some sort of sex goddess," Karen said. "It's all rubbish. I'm not bad
looking, I'll grant you, but so what?"
"You're beautiful," Miki corrected her. Not bad looking? Like the Beatles knocked out a few
decent tunes. Like the Sistine chapel was a fairly good bit of interior decorating.
Karen shrugged. "Maybe. All I see when I look in the mirror is me. What Richard probably sees is
some shallow, pretty nymphomaniac who wants to take Julie's place in his bed before she's cold."
"And what DO you want?"
"Oh, just to fuck him. He's hot and I'm a shallow, pretty nymphomaniac, remember? He doesn't
love me, I know that. I can't take Julie's place, he loves her."
"And so do you," Miki observed.
"Worse than that, I'm afraid. I think I'm IN love with her. And all I can do is hang around and be
here to eat her, which I will do." Karen made a self-deprecating grimace. "Oh pity me. Pathetic,
isn't it?"
"Yes," Miki said. "It is, in the original sense. You love her and you've lost her, classic tragedy. It's
supposed to be pathetic. Just because it's a cliche doesn't mean it's not real."
Karen gave her a wry smile. "And I'm supposed to be the classics scholar."
"Just because I'm a hairy-knuckled engineer doesn't mean I've never read a book," Miki said.
"The point is you'll stay and eat because that's what Julie wants you to do. So will I, though I
hardly know her, partly because I liked her..." she hesitated.
"And?"
"Because I want to know what she tastes like. Sorry, but I really do. I've never had a ticket to one
of these things before and..." she spread her hands.
Karen smiled, put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sure she'd love
that," she said. "And thank you, I needed that."
"And here I thought you just wanted a good shagging," Miki said. "Which, by the way, I'm not
sure I can do. Not my area of expertise..."
"I won't hold you to that," Karen said. "If Richard doesn't come back..."
"Oh, fuck Richard," Miki said. "If he wants to sulk. If the sex doesn't work, tough. I'll sleep with
you anyway if you want the company. I'm starting to like you."
This just wouldn't do, Richard admitted to himself, staring moodily into his pint of Theakstons Old
Peculier. The girls hadn't done anything wrong that he could put his finger on. As for Joan, well,
she was just being Joan. She'd been no different at the Summer Feast and he'd liked her well
enough then. He just wasn't handling this very well. How was he supposed to handle it? He
became aware that the music had changed. It was a version of a classic Beatles song. Quite a
good one, too.
"Turn off your mind, relax
and float down stream
It is not dying
It is not dying..."
Like Hell it isn't, he thought. Well, not for me anyway. What the fuck, it's better than Jingle Bells.
On some level Julie knew she was dying, of course, but she didn't mind that. In fact, she hardly
even thought about it, except that it was a necessary part of the process that would turn her into
cooked meat, which was what she had always known that she should be, or so it seemed to her
now. She was dimly aware that there had been a time when she'd thought differently, when silly
things like her history studies had occupied her attention, but that didn't matter any more. Her
body temperature was rising dangerously, but the heat didn't seem unpleasant to her, it was
comfortable. She squirmed and stretched luxuriously on the firm pole that kept her in her proper
place over the fire that would cook her. She didn't think at all about the fact that it had already
killed her. Most of her mind was occupied by pure sensation, but she could still hear.
"Lay down all thought
Surrender to the void
It is shining
It is shining "
To say that that made sense to her might be overstating the case. It was just right. She knew that
it was familiar and that she'd heard it before and never really understood it. Should she open her
eyes again before she died? That was a puzzler.
I've got to go back, Richard realised. I have to eat Julie and everybody else will be there too. She
doesn't want me to brood in a corner on my own and gnaw on her flesh as if I'm eating worms.
He looked across the room to the women turning on spits. He couldn't see Julie's eyes. He might
never see them again if he didn't go back. He should bring drinks for the girls too. What did
Karen drink? He couldn't remember. Miki? No idea at all. He grabbed a half empty bottle of
something or other and started unsteadily across the room. Somebody glanced at him
indignantly and opened his mouth as he bumped into him and he said "Don't even think about
it," and moved on.
A hand grabbed his right shoulder. "Not so fast, Potter," a voice said. A drunken, belligerent
voice. He turned around. James. He might have known.
"What's the problem, James?" he asked tiredly.
"You are, Potter," James said. "'Don't even think about it'?" he sneered. "Was that supposed to
be a threat?"
Richard didn't have time for this. "Consider it advice, if you like. All right, I'm sorry I bumped into
you. Don't make more of it than you must."
"Or you'll do what?"
Richard sighed. It seemed James was spoiling for a fight this time. Very well. "Excuse me for a
moment," he said, lifting the glass and bottle in his hands to indicate that he needed to put them
down. James took a wary half step back. Richard turned away to put the drinks down on a table
and James made his move. As Richard turned back the clumsy roundhouse punch to the face
was already on its way. So predictable. He swayed slightly to the right, swept the blade of his left
hand into James's inner elbow, lunged slightly with his left knee. James stumbled, spun off
balance and crashed on the floor. He slid and hit his head on a table leg, spilling a few drinks.
"Hey!", "What the f..." various voices expressed surprise and annoyance at the commotion.
"I think he must have tripped," Richard said offhandedly, picking his drinks back up and walking
casually away. He noticed that his heart rate had picked up a bit and his head seemed clearer.
Karen and Miki had heard the crash as James hit the table and saw Richard coming back.
"What was all that about?" Karen wondered.
"Just James blundering about," Richard said. "I think he's had too much to drink. Maybe I have
too, sorry about that. Do either of you like..." he held up the bottle he'd picked up at random,
"Drambuie? Shit. I should have looked first."
"I'll try anything once," Miki said and took the bottle.
"You really don't like James, do you?" Karen looked amused.
"No," Richard said shortly. "You said he had a dick like a horse...."
"Jealous?" Karen quirked a teasing smile.
"Not that he had a brain to match," Richard went on. "Fuck him if you like, but I still think you
should just have him stuffed."
"Oooh," Miki said, flaring her nostrils. "Smell the testosterone..." She took a swig from the bottle
and spluttered.
"It's a whisky liqueur," Richard said. "You're supposed to sip it."
Julie was still hearing 'Listen to the colour of your dreams
Is it not living, is it not living...
Or play the game "Existence" to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning....'
She opened her eyes. The room was spinning slowly, she was upside down. As her eyes
focussed, she could see people through the heat haze and her ecstatic mental langour. Miles to
go before I sleep, she thought. I have to find them....
Like magic they were there. Still there.
Richard looked up. "Julie!" he exclaimed.
Julie blinked slowly, like a cat being stroked.
Karen looked stunned. She opened her mouth.
Michiko turned round and saw her. She drew her right forefinger up from her crotch through her
belly to the base of her sternum and winked.
Julie winked back. She felt her final orgasm coming like a tidal wave. When it was over, the cooks
would gut her and then she'd really start to roast. Everything was fine. She closed her eyes again.
"I think they're going to gut the other two," Miki noted. A few of the cooks had come out and were
surveying April and Megan with professional detachment. They had stopped moving and were
presumably dead. Their spitted bodies were lifted off the fires and onto stands set a little way
back. Their bellies were slit and their entrails plopped out into a couple of tin baths. The cooks,
sleeves rolled up, fished about inside them severing connections or something. When they were
empty, they were lifted back over the fires and the spits lowered. "Wow", Miki said, sounding
awed. She had a hand held protectively over her own lean stomach in sympathy
"Never seen that before?" Karen was wryly amused. "Don't worry, that's what I felt like the first
time. That could have been you, right?"
"Right," Miki said. "Oh, right, you nearly did get roasted, didn't you?"
Karen nodded. "Gives you a whole new perspective on things, doesn't it?"
"Just a bit."
And that's going to happen to Julie soon, Richard thought. Guts in a bucket, done to a turn, then
we eat her and she's bare bones and shit. He had to keep reminding himself because watching
the two girls being disembowelled had given him an erection. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
Again. Deja vu? He turned. "For Christ's sake, what IS it with you?" he snapped.
"No fucking tricks this time, Potter," James snarled. He looked dishevelled and red faced.
("What's going on?" Miki asked Karen sotto voce.
"Grudge match. Richard backed James down once."
"And now they're going to fight?"
"It would appear so...")
"No sneak attacks?" Richard was saying. He started to put his beer glass down. "Do you
remember what I told you this summer?" He was boiling with rage and it felt good. Julie was
dying, he was getting the hots from watching two women being gutted and this complete
arsehole kept butting in. "Try to think. I know it's an effort, but..." he threw the beer into James's
face and punched his nose. James's hands came up reflexively. Richard hit him in the solar
plexus with a short jab, just beneath the rib cage. Then he kneed him hard in the balls. "I said I'd
hurt you very badly. Consider this a down payment on the promise, you fucking twat." He
grabbed a bottle from a nearby table and was about to break it on James's skull, or vice versa,
when somebody grabbed his arm. He whirled around to use the bottle on his new assailant and
stopped just in time. It was Karen.
"Easy, tiger," she said. "I think he's had enough."
"Please let go," Richard said as calmly as he could manage. James was kneeling on the floor
gasping and trying to get up. Richard wanted to kill him, it was that simple.
"This isn't finished," James rasped. He stood up with an effort.
"Yes it is," Karen said. "You dickhead, you lost. Get used to it. Bugger off. Now. Before he bloody
well kills you."
James gave her a blank stare and then staggered away.
"You could have just cut his balls off," Miki commented.
"I think she more or less did," Richard said as the proverbial red mist dissipated and sanity
returned. "Thanks, Karen. Seriously, thanks."
"Don't mention it. If you'd killed him, you might have been thrown out for rowdy behaviour and
then you wouldn't have been here to eat Julie."
"And she wouldn't want that, right?"
"Right," Karen said. Her expression was concerned.
"I know you're right," Richard said carefully. "But if he does that again I will do him some serious
damage. I've had just about enough of him."
Karen nodded. "Of course. But if he doesn't, you will not start anything with him. Not today, not
here. Tomorrow you can do what you like."
"Sounds fair to me," Richard agreed. He gave Karen a respectful nod and went back to watching
Julie being cooked.
"I can see what you see in him," Miki said. "I thought he was just a pretty face. Man candy. Well,
bright too. But it's not just that is it?"
"I don't know what you mean," Karen said.
"He's a lot like you. The dangerous type."
"Dangerous?" Karen mused as if it had never occurred to her. "I suppose he is, a bit. But me?"
"Femme Fatale," Miki said teasingly. "La Belle Dame sans Merci."
"Oh come on. That's ridiculous."
"Is it? Men fighting over you like rutting stags...."
"It's not about me," Karen said. "James made a move on Julie at the summer feast and Richard
warned him off. I suppose James held a grudge about it."
"And now Julie's toast - sorry - and you're still breathing. And coming on to Richard when you
used to fuck James. Work it out."
"I didn't fuck James that often. A few times, usually when I was drunk and randy. Oh shit."
"He touched the body of Aphrodite and now he's 'big hat, no cattle' as the Texans say. Or 'big
dick, no brains'. Whatever. No wonder he was pissed off. Richard is now top dog. That's why we
both want him."
"That's pretty cynical," Karen said. "He's sensitive and intelligent..."
"Which is good," Miki conceded. "And I've also seen him look at me as if he doesn't know
whether he'd rather take me to bed or eat me raw and I rather like that in a man. It makes me all
gooey inside. Doesn't it you?"
Karen shrugged. "So? The same thought had crossed my mind....." Karen paused "Ah".
"I rest my case," Miki said. "Why else do you think I'd have agreed to sleep with you?"
"Oh really? What about your ex-lover? Didn't he want to eat you too?"
"Oh, I'm sure he did, but he never actually admitted it. Lovers should be honest with each other. I
can hardly believe I wanted him to have my prime cut. He didn't deserve it. He should at least
have stayed with me until I was really dead." She indicated Julie. "She knows you and Richard
will. That's why she's happy and that's why I'd sleep with both of you. You're loyal."
Karen shook her head and grinned wryly. "You do have an interesting way of looking at things,"
she said. "I certainly hope she's happy, I have to believe that, but....don't get the wrong idea,"
she added seriously. "I'm not really sorry you didn't get roasted, you know. Unless you wish you
had been...."
"No," Miki said firmly. "I did at one point but the moment has passed. I'm not about to volunteer
for a faculty dinner or even the next summer feast. If my number comes up," she shrugged, "I'll
be a good sport about it and hope I enjoy it, but that's it."
"And if it does happen, heaven forfend, I'll be loading my plate with the best of them."
"Unless you're sizzling on the next spit.."
The two women grinned at each other in mutual agreement and understanding.
Julie was in the throes of the biggest orgasm she had ever had. Big enough to kill her, and that
was all right. She wasn't capable of thinking verbally any more, but she sensed that everything
was perfect and complete. She was somehow aware of the presence of her friends, the ones she
loved, and it was time for her to die and be food for them. Happily, gratefully and willingly, she
gave herself away and died.
Julie's slow, sensuous writhing on the pole had mesmerised Richard. His eyes were stinging,
possibly because of the heat from the fire or because he'd forgotten to blink. Suddenly the
writhing turned to small, twitchy convulsions, then she stiffened. The tendons in her arms and
legs stood out. "She's going," he thought without realising that he'd said it aloud. Karen and Miki
turned round. Julie stiffened again and then relaxed. "She's gone," he said.
"Dead," Karen said hollowly. Julie was never coming back. Never. It was hard to take it in.
Miki said "I'm sorry," sympathetically if pointlessly. Julie's fate had been sealed the moment the
spit went through her and they all knew it. Nevertheless, they all watched as the cooks came out,
prodded her experimentally with a long fork and took her off the stand. They kept watching as
they slit her belly, gutted her and put her back on to cook. There was something very final about
seeing her insides taken out.
Jennifer was still moving vigorously. One of the cooks gave her an unnecessary prod with the fork
and grunted as if disappointed. Obviously, she should just hurry up and die so they could get on
with the job.
A man of about thirty something years, whose badly matched clothes and eccentric haircut
identified him as an artistic type, was watching with the expression aesthetes assume when
appreciating a new work of art. Head slightly tilted, quizzical frown and fingers on chin as if
stroking a nonexistent beard.
"Hello, McGonagall," Joan greeted him, with the hearty slap on the shoulder she knew he
detested, "Come to pick your dinner? You're in luck. She's one of yours so you'll get her pussy
when she's done."
McGonagall winced, closed his eyes in distaste and turned around. "If you must know, I was
evaluating her thesis work," he said.
"Oh, that's a good one," Joan said deadpan. "Which part of her were you evaluating, leg or
breast?"
"Seriously," McGonagall said, sounding a bit miffed. "She submitted this performance as her
degree thesis."
"Really?" Joan raised her eyebrows. She looked again at Jennifer and stroked her chin.
"MARvellous flexion of the thighs," she drawled, "And the oil and sweat dripping from those ripe,
juicy breasts adds a particularly piquant nuance...."
McGonagall snorted angrily and started to stalk away.
"No, seriously," Joan called after him. "Beats the hell out of shitting on the floor of the Tate Gallery
or pickling a shark and calling it art. She should get a first."
"Did she really do that?" Joan asked Adam.
"First I've heard of it," Adam said with a slight shrug. "I'd have thought she might have mentioned
it to me if she had. I never thought Jenny took her work that seriously, to be honest. Good idea,
though."
"Sounds to me like something Julie might have suggested," Karen put in.
"Really, why?" Joan inquired, not so much sceptically but more as if asking a fairly bright student
to justify a controversial opinion.
"I don't know, maybe to distract her in case she was getting second thoughts. Maybe to console
her parents. They might be a bit upset when they find out their daughter's been eaten. If she gets
a posthumous degree, it'll be a bit like a dead soldier getting the Victoria Cross."
Richard nodded. "Yes, she would think of something like that. Always thinking about other
people."
Miki noted with relief that the notion had cheered him up somewhat. Watching his dead girlfriend
being cooked seemed to have made him rather pensive and gloomy. Understandable, of course,
and she rather liked him for it, but it did put a bit of a wet blanket over her plans for the evening.
Maybe he'd liven up after he'd actually eaten her. Personally, she was looking forward to it. In her
not particularly humble opinion, Julie looked mouth-wateringly edible.
"Do you really think she'll get a first?" Adam asked Joan.
"Not a clue," Joan said. "I'd give her one, but McGonagall is a Professor of Fine Arts, which is to
say he has no idea what real people actually like, and he doesn't like me so nothing I say to him
will matter. I'd wait until I'd tasted her, but what do I know about art? I'm a historian."
"I'd have to agree," Adam said. "If being roasted is a work of art, surely the end result is part of
the whole performance. Presentation is supposed to be part of the art of cookery, but in the end
the dish has to taste good."
"What's your subject then, art or cookery?"
"Law," Adam said. "I've just watched a few Masterchef shows on TV and I can bullshit with the
best of them."
"Very useful in your future line of work," Joan noted. "I suppose you're very good at it or you
wouldn't be here."
Adam shrugged modestly. "That and I can beat my Prof at poker," he said.
Joan smiled teasingly. "Isn't that just a little unethical?"
Adam gave her a look of mild surprise. "We're lawyers," he pointed out. "And, of course, we never
had this conversation."
"I'm going to take a break," Richard said. "Julie won't be done for a while yet. I think I need some
air. How about you? Don't you two want to get some clothes on?"
"Me?" Karen wondered, as if she'd forgotten. "Why?"
"Oh, I don't know. You might want to let Julie and the other roasters be the centre of attention for
once."
Karen looked puzzled and a little hurt. "I hadn't thought about it that way," she said contritely.
"Well fuck you, Mister bloody Darcy," Miki said. "I didn't realise you'd been appointed the arbiter
of good manners at this shindig. I'll go and put some knickers on immediately." She didn't move.
"I knew Jennifer a little," Karen said gently. "And I intend to stay here until she dies."
"She may have gone troppo," Miki said, "But she's the reason I'm still breathing, so I will too."
Richard held his hands up in surrender. "All right, sorry I spoke." He walked off, uncomfortably
aware that he'd made an ass of himself, and not for the first time. Karen probably hadn't even
noticed that she was still naked, it never had bothered her, and he didn't know anything about
Miki at all, really.
Part of the way across the room, he stopped and turned back. Miki and Karen had their backs to
him, watching Jennifer finish her performance and Julie being cooked. "Er..." he began.
Miki turned her head. "What now?"
"I'm sorry," Richard said. "I'm on edge and I'm venting at everybody." Now Karen turned around.
"It's not your fault, it's me, you just happened to get in the way of my bad mood. I apologise."
Miki's expression softened. "No problem," she said. "We - I - understand."
Karen nodded and Richard gave a perfunctory nod back. He wasn't going to argue, it would be
pointless, but did they really understand?
Karen gave him a wry smile. "You don't think we do, do you? Oh, don't worry, it's not your fault
either. It's a gender thing. If they roasted a few men occasionally, then maybe YOU might
understand."
"Maybe," Richard said noncommittally, "See you later." Giving both women another nod, he
turned and walked away. Picking up his coat in the cloakroom, he went outside. It was dark and it
was snowing. Bloody perfect, he thought. We're going to have a white Christmas. And Julie won't
see it. She's gone. He struck off in a random direction with a determined stride. A good, brisk
walk should help him clear his head and let him think things over. Roast a few men? he
wondered. Maybe they should. He didn't think Karen had meant it vindictively, she hadn't
seemed to be implying that it would serve them right. More like the idea that if they did that, the
men would understand how the women handled watching someone they knew and cared about
being killed and eaten. They were all in the same situation, they didn't need to feel guilty.
He took care to think it through logically. It was better than wallowing in a morass of grief and self-
pity. Face facts, Julie was dead but she hadn't been murdered. Apart from the inexplicable fact
that she'd apparently chosen to stay when she could have been spared, there was the simple fact
that she was still at the college at all. He knew the rationalisations for that, the reduced fees and
the standard of tuition she couldn't otherwise have afforded, but it was still a calculated risk, one
she'd been well aware of and willing to take. Would he have done that in her place? He doubted
it, he'd always thought he knew he wouldn't, but now?
He had to admit that there was at least a smidgen of fascination in the idea of it. How would it
have felt if he'd been making love to Julie the night before he had to go to a choosing, knowing
that the balls she was fondling so gently might end up in her belly?
In his reverie, Richard hadn't consciously noticed that he'd wandered off to the field where they'd
held the Summer Feast, where he'd first become Julie's boyfriend. He poked around looking for
the fireplaces where Barbara and the others had been cooked. There wasn't much sign of them,
though that could be because it was snowing and pitch dark. He had a brief, morbid fantasy of
discovering a forgotten fingerbone of a girl who'd been cooked and eaten six months ago.
Ridiculous. The snow was settling and he couldn't have found a whole head in this murk. If he lay
down on the ground and went to sleep, nobody would find him for a week.
Six months ago, everything had been bright and lovely. Of course, a few young women had been
roasted on spits but, what the hell, it had been a great party. The ladies had liked him, the food
had been wonderful, he'd met the awesome Karen Parker and Julie had gone to bed with him.
Now it was all ashes. Ashes covered with snow.
Something hit him on the back. He fell over, sprawling on his face.
"I told you this wasn't over, Potter," James said.
Richard started to get up and a foot on his backside shoved him down again. Another faceful of
refreshing snow. He rolled aside just in time to avoid a clumsy kick and sprang to his feet.
"Now I'm going to finish it," James said thickly.
His bloodied nose must be affecting his breathing, Richard noted, his senses suddenly sharp.
"You really don't want to be doing this," he said.
That had the effect he might have expected. James sneered. "You mean where your girlfriends
can't save you? Forget it Potter. You're not getting away with it this time."
"The name's Radcliffe," Richard said. "Richard Radcliffe." He'd always wanted to say that.
"Is that supposed to be clever? Just like all you pretty boy geeks, trying to talk your way out of a
fight."
Pretty boy? Richard raised his eyebrows. Was that how James saw him? Never mind. "No," he
said, "I just thought you ought to know something."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"I said if you did this again I'd really hurt you. Karen stopped me last time. This time I will. One
last chance, walk away."
"Or else what?"
"James," Richard said with insincere amicability, "You seem to be labouring under a delusion.
You think because you're a bit bigger than me that you can beat me. You can't. You're a pathetic
fighter and you're not as strong as you look. You're not in good condition and you're drunk. I once
thought you might be a little bit dangerous, but you're not. You don't scare me. You're a joke. The
only way you'll get your dick into Karen again is if she cuts it off and eats it. Or I do it for her.
Fried, with onions, in a hot dog bun." He smiled. "But then again, she could probably beat the
shit out of you herself....."
"You little...." James attacked.
A couple of minutes later, Richard got up. James had put up a better fight than he'd expected,
which was good, but it hadn't been that close a contest. He walked away, leaving him lying in the
snow. He had a feeling he'd done him some fairly serious damage, but he didn't care, he felt
better. Maybe James would die and be found there covered with snow a few days later. What did
it matter? Better people had died today. Somewhere there was a warm hall with people in it he
knew. There would be feasting and celebration. If it turned out that he'd really killed James, it
wouldn't be until after he'd eaten Julie. That was what really mattered.
There was no hurry, Julie wouldn't be finished cooking for a while yet. The fight had messed his
clothes up and got them wet. He might as well go back to his rooms and change. Not that he
was vain, but it wouldn't do to look unpresentable when he ate his girlfriend. The walk back didn't
take long, but his rooms looked both familiar and strange, as if he'd been away for a long time.
There was the bed he and Julie had made love and slept in not so long ago. It looked unreal. He
stripped off, put the kettle on and went to take a shower.
In the mirror, he noticed that he'd collected a few bruises. He'd hardly noticed at the time, but
James had got a few hits in. It didn't matter, there was no major damage. He dressed again in
clean jeans and a sweatshirt, he didn't have another suit. Julie had helped him pick his only one
out in a charity shop. He sat down with a cup of tea and switched on the TV. After an
indeterminate length of time, he noticed that he had no idea what he'd been watching. Some
washed-up actor was touting a firm of personal injury lawyers in a tediously familiar advert. He
picked up the cup of tea and it had gone cold, half drunk. He knew the feeling. Then he noticed
something else: he was hungry. Ravenously hungry. Starving in the midst of plenty, he thought
ironically. Somewhere not far from here, there was food. Roast young woman, his favourite. He
could just stay in and make a cheese and Marmite sandwich, or....
Some sort of advert or trailer came on the TV. The soundtrack was Slade playing 'Merry
Christmas'. It was an omen. "Sod that," he muttered and turned off the TV. He got up and dug
out the old leather jacket Julie had bought him for his birthday. He put it on and walked out into
the dark and stormy night.
When he arrived at the hall, the party proper was well under way. Of course, it had already
started by the time he'd left but most of the guests had been taking it easy until the main event,
the carving and serving of the human roasts. Now they were eating. The music was a little louder,
or so it seemed. Maybe he'd just been away long enough to get used to the quiet. He moved
through the crowd with that faint sense of superiority you get by being slightly less drunk than
everybody else. Against that, an anxiety that he'd arrived too late. What if Julie had already been
eaten up? How long had he been gone?
He needn't have worried. Even with the internal microwave cooking built into the spits, it took a
while to cook a woman, and Julie had been the third to go. Most of the guests must be eating
April and Megan. Still, he pushed on to the table where he finally found Julie, or what was left of
her.
Julie's body was laid out on a table, face up, ready to be carved. The cooks started by chopping
her head off. Richard winced involuntarily, despite the obvious fact that she was already dead.
Dead as a well-basted Christmas turkey, with her belly slit open, her backbone exposed and her
skin a lovely golden brown. She was just food now.
"Just like Barb," a familiar voice mused close to his ear. "She ate Barb and now we'll eat her.
Funny sort of food chain..." It was Karen.
"Then, t'ducks will come and et up t'worms..." Miki said in a sing-song voice and a Northern
accent.
"I didn't know you were from Yorkshire," Karen said.
"Long time ago," Miki said, "Long story. But the roots run deep. Now go ahead, ask me why I'm
called Michiko. Most people do at some stage, might as well get it over with."
"Everybody has to be called something," Karen said lightly. "All right, why are you called
Michiko?"
"After my maternal grandmother," Miki said as if by a long practiced rote. "She was the bastard
daughter of an American soldier during the occupation of Japan after World War Two. Her
mother committed suicide in shame. All very Madame Butterfly. I always cry when I hear that.
Not. My namesake thought 'fuck that for a lark' and emigrated to Britain, for which I shall always
be grateful."
Something struck Richard. "You've got clothes on," he noted.
"Give the man a coconut," Miki said. "Nothing gets past you. Men may be oblivious to fashion but
they usually notice whether women have clothes on or not. How long did it take you to work that
out?"
Richard felt wrong-footed. He'd never seen Miki with clothes on before. Or had he? It didn't seem
to make much difference to her. Then he noticed that Karen was slightly dressed too. She had
underwear on, stylish underwear, of course. Miki was wearing cutoff jeans and a denim jacket
with nothing under it. Nothing but her skin and the inner edges of her small, bare breasts. Her
nipples were tantalisingly hidden.
"We changed," Karen said amusedly, watching him.
"After Jennifer popped her clogs," Miki supplied. "And here you come with the weather hanging
round you. What happened to your face?" She reached a small hand to the bruise on his cheek.
"James happened," Richard said. "He followed me out."
"And what happened to him? He hasn't come back," Karen wondered without much urgency.
"I happened to him. He probably won't be back tonight, if ever."
"Oh, laconic," Miki said. "Mean and moody too, I like it. I suppose you're back to eat Julie."
"Got it in one," Richard said sardonically, getting his own back. "Ten points for your mastery of
the bleeding obvious."
"For Christ's sake, you two," Karen said irritably, "Get a room and shag each other to death or
knock it off."
Miki winked and smirked at Richard. Richard gave her an uncertain grimace.
One of the cooks produced a peculiar looking knife. It was thin and very sharp looking, with a
slight curve.
"That's what they cut your tits off with," Miki said, just before the cook neatly debreasted Julie.
"Um, just like that..." Her hands came halfway up to her chest and then dropped. "And that
one..." The cook produced a smaller, curved blade.
"I think I can guess," Richard said, turning away. He didn't want to see it happen and he didn't
much care if Miki taunted him about it. Karen stayed stolidly watching.
"Are you all right?" Miki asked, not at all mockingly. She touched his arm.
"I'm fine," Richard said shortly, and then relented. She was only trying to help and it could have
been her there being cut up. "She was beautiful...." He shook his head helplessly.
"She still is," Miki said. "But you probably don't want to hear that, do you? Sorry. I'll just shut up
now, shall I?"
"No," Richard said. "Tell me."
Miki looked at the table. "That's how I'd like to look if they served me up. That's what I hoped for
when they were spitting me. They did a good job on her. They did her justice..."
"Justice," Richard said, numbly.
"Oh, bad choice of words?" Miki's voice had got back some of its edge. "It's a matter of
perspective. How would you like to look if they roasted you?"
"I'd rather not be cooked at all," Richard said. Seeing Miki about to make the obvious retort, he
held up his hands. "All right, that's not answering the question. I haven't really given it much
thought. I don't have to, since it isn't going to happen. I suppose you're going to say she'd have
wanted to look good...."
"She did," Miki said, "We all would. That's not my opinion, it's a fact. And she does."
Richard wanted to say that women cared a lot more about their appearance than men did, but
that might have sounded too argumentative. "All right," he conceded. "Maybe I'll never
understand it until they start cooking men, all right?"
To his surprise, Miki gave him a mischievous smirk. "Fair enough," she said. "I think you'd look
lovely roasted." She licked her lips. "I'd certainly want to eat you."
Richard found himself smiling back. "I believe you would," he said. The idea was stimulating.
"Oh, believe it," Miki purred. Then she cocked her head. "Getting it yet?" Abruptly, she turned
away to watch the cooks slice steaming cuts of meat from Julie's body and arranging the steaks
tastefully on platters.
Richard's stomach couldn't help reacting to the incomparable smell of well-cooked meat. Roast
young woman, his favourite food, and, better yet, roast Julie.
"If you can't wait until they finish carving," Joan said, "There's plenty of April and Megan left.
They're both delicious. I'd like to say that Megan is better, since she was one of my own students,
but in truth there's little to choose between them. Have a taste and see what you think."
"Ah," Richard said. "I think I'll wait. How was Megan's er...."
"Filet? Prime cut? Pussy?" Joan kissed her fingers in a caricature of a gourmet's gesture of
appreciation. "Exquisite. I'm sure you'll enjoy Julie's."
"I'm not having it," Richard said with a sudden pang. "Karen is."
Joan raised both eyebrows. "Do please explain," she asked politely.
Richard didn't want to, but the privilege had been granted him by Joan in the first place. If he
didn't, she might just take it back and that wouldn't be right. "I was Julie's lover," he said in a low
voice, almost a mumble, "But Karen is the one she really loved."
"Really?" Joan shook her head and smiled indulgently. "You youngsters, so sentimental, so
terribly moral..."
Richard didn't care. "You don't mind?"
"I think I'll let it pass," Joan said. "Heaven forfend that I should add any more melodrama to this
touching little romantic entanglement. There is such a thing as over-egging the pudding. If I feel
the need, I'll watch Romeo and Juliet when I get home."
"So Karen can..."
"You may decide it between yourselves. If you can't do that, the honour will be mine. You may not
pass it on to anyone else. Clear enough?"
"Crystal," Richard said, "And thank you."
"Think nothing of it," Joan said. "It's all part of the fun. By the way, what happened to that lout
who almost spoiled the party?"
Richard actually had to think about that one. "James?" He shrugged. "I don't think he'll be back
tonight." And maybe not ever, he thought.
Joan took in his expression and the bruise on his face. She took a sip from her glass and shook
her head again. "Delightful," she said, as if to herself. "Almost too much. Well, do enjoy yourself."
Richard needed a drink, so he went to get one. Nothing too stiff, just a beer. He felt
uncomfortably sober, not superior any more, the party noise was too loud. He got the beer and
came back with it. Nobody attacked him, there were no distractions at all. Just that somebody
had put "Sing me a Song in the Morning" by Blodwyn Pig on the sound system. It reminded him
of waking up with Julie. Well, he supposed, almost everything did right now.
When he got back, Miki was waiting for him with two plates in her hands. She held one out to
him. It had a knife and fork on it, flanking what he recognised as a thigh steak. There was also a
split baked potato with garlic butter. "Come on," she said, "Let's eat. I don't know about you, but
I'm famished. There's a table over there. Let's sit down, I hate eating standing up."
"Thanks," Richard said, taking the plate. "Where's Karen?"
"Gone off on her own to commune with Julie's filet. Oh great, mustard. Want some?"
Richard put his beer glass down on the table. "Maybe later," he said.
Miki picked up the glass and sipped. "Nice," she said, "What is it?"
"Timothy Taylors bitter."
"Didn't you get me one?" Miki's blue eyes held a teasingly reproachful look.
"You can share this one if you like," Richard said. "Or I can get you another..."
"Oh, sit down," Miki said. "I don't mind sharing."
There was no point trying to put it off any longer, so Richard sat. The food looked and smelled
delicious. He felt an urge to say something important to mark the occasion, but he couldn't think
of anything that wouldn't sound pretentious and ridiculous. What would Julie have wanted? For
him to eat her flesh and enjoy it. All right. He picked up the knife and fork uncertainly. He'd eaten
girl thigh steak before, how was this any different? He remembered something Karen had said:
"Barb wouldn't mind, trust me, I know. She'd hate to think she went through all that and nobody
wanted her. Hell, I'll take it as a personal insult to my friend if you don't."
No doubt she'd take it as an even bigger insult if he didn't eat her beloved Julie. He certainly
didn't want to offend either of them. Suddenly, he imagined Julie saying "Oh, just get on with it,
you idiot. Don't you WANT to eat me?"
"All right, Julie," he muttered. "If that's what you want, here goes." He cut a slice from the steak
and forked it into his mouth. What if it was no good? Ridiculous, all girlmeat was good. He
chewed tentatively at first, afraid of being disappointed for her sake. Nothing wrong with that, he
noted with an absurdly huge sense of relief. It's okay, Julie, he thought, you taste fine. Really
good, in fact. He chewed slowly, savouring the taste but, eventually, he had to swallow. He
wanted more, so he cut another piece. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Miki watching him.
She had a peculiar smile on her face. "What?"
"Not bad, then?" she asked, fork poised halfway to her mouth. Had she been waiting for him?
"Not bad," he admitted, and bit into another juicy piece of Julie. She tasted fantastic. He wanted
more. A bit like Barb, but not quite the same. Or was she? He had to have another bite to decide.
"Try some with mustard," Miki suggested, passing a jar of Colman's English.
Richard wasn't sure. Did Julie really need mustard? Well, one bite with mustard wouldn't hurt. He
smeared some on a piece. Not bad, but was it an improvement? Hard to say. Mustard added a
certain piquancy to Julie's meat, but it had a robust yet subtle favour of its own. Occasionally, he
freshened his palate with mouthfuls of baked potato and butter. Maybe he should try some with
mushrooms. But he couldn't, he'd finished his steak. He looked around and Miki was swallowing
the last of hers. She washed it down with a swig of his beer.
"Bloody good," she opined.
"Do you think there's any more?"
Miki grinned. "Let's go and see, shall we?" She got up.
Richard followed. It wasn't difficult, most people had got their food and some were standing
around waiting for Jennifer to be served. There wasn't much left of April but bones that he could
see, and a lot of Megan had gone, but there was quite a bit left of Julie. Not in her original form,
of course, a lot of her had been chopped up and laid out attractively on serving platters, but her
head was still intact.
"Still think you'd like to end up like that?" Richard asked Miki.
"If they cook me, yes, of course," Miki said. "That's a great job. She's a one-woman banquet. Go
on, tell me that's not an appetising display. And try not to drool when you say it."
"I can't," Richard admitted. "But that's not the point...."
"Says he, holding his plate out for more like Oliver Twist with a hard on," Miki sniped. "It's exactly
the point. So tell me, what's good? You've been to a few of these things before, haven't you?"
Richard couldn't deny it. "Pretty much everything," he admitted. "It's a matter of taste. I was just
looking for another thigh steak."
"That was excellent," Miki said. "But please remember I'm not a brain like you. I don't usually get
a ticket to ride and next time I might be lying on a serving platter myself, so give."
"Well, ribs are good too, and then there's..."
"Pick me some stuff out," Miki said. "I'll trust you." She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek.
"I'll go and get us a couple of fresh drinks." She departed, leaving Richard feeling slightly off-
balance. Women had always had that effect on him. His cheek felt flushed. He'd been about to
ask her where the sauteed mushrooms were.
Things seemed to be going well, Miki thought cheerfully. Richard seemed to be starting to get
over his doomy, gloomy mood. With a bit of help, he might even get into the party spirit. It
wouldn't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. And the food! It had been well worth nearly
getting cooked to get an honorary ticket. If she'd known how amazing it was, she might have
bothered to work hard enough to earn one before. It wasn't that she didn't have the ability, she'd
just never bothered to do more than was required to get by. She didn't mind chancing the lottery
every month but it would be embarrassing if she ended up on the menu because of failing
grades. Her parents wouldn't approve at all, not that they ever did.
Richard didn't quite know what to pick. Everything looked good and he wanted a piece of every
part of Julie. Ideally, he'd have liked to eat all of her, but he had to be practical. Even one piece of
everything was a bit of a stretch. Since everybody else was going to get some of her, he didn't
mind sharing with Miki, at least she'd known her. But what would she like? In the end he decided
to take bits of whatever caught his eye, putting one part on his plate to one on Miki's until they
were both full. A slice of rump here, a rib there, and so on. Eventually he carried the overloaded
plates back to the table, wondering at last if someone as small as Miki could actually put all this
stuff away. Then he realised he still hadn't found the sauteed mushrooms.
Miki came back with two mugs of dark beer. "Brakspeare's Old Ale," she announced, "Whatever
that is. Oh, that looks good!"
"Brakspeare's is fine," Richard said. "Good choice. I don't suppose you know where the
mushrooms are?"
"Ask Alice," Miki said, with a slight grin. "Oh, all right, they're over there." She pointed. "I'll have
mine without the caterpillars. I'm short enough already."
Richard loaded some mushrooms from a chafing dish onto a side plate and brought them back.
Miki was chewing on a Julie rib.
"Spicy," she commented.
"They usually add a bit of sauce and recook the ribs after they take them out," Richard said,
remembering the Summer Feast. He dished some mushrooms onto a slice of rump and started
to eat it. The mushrooms had been sauteed in garlic butter, by the taste, and some aromatic
herb that he couldn't put a name to. They went very well with the meat. He was engrossed in the
meal when somebody pulled a stool up on his left and sat down with a plate of food. He glanced
aside. It was Karen. "Oh, hi," he mumbled with his mouth half full. He swallowed. "Um, how was
the, er...."
"Fine," Karen said shortly. Obviously she didn't want to talk about it at the moment.
Richard could understand and respect that. He'd probably feel the same way in her place. He'd
never really know. He couldn't help thinking that maybe Karen would open up about it later,
maybe after he'd fucked her. And where had that thought come from? What had happened to his
reluctance to submit to the temptations of the flesh? He caught himself glancing aside to look at
Miki's half-concealed breasts under her washed denim jacket. Damn. He raised his eyes and met
Miki's. She winked. He remembered an old quote from Aleister Crowley: 'Women have no morals,
only moods, no soul, only sex'.
The music in the background, he noticed, was Jeff Beck's 'Blow by Blow' and his instrumental
version of 'She's a Woman' was playing.
He grinned to himself. It was probably unfair, but he could imagine her tucking in just as
cheerfully if it was him on the table. Then again, why not? She'd known Julie hardly better than
he'd known Barb or Keiko and eating them hadn't bothered him unduly. Miki had only just met
him, why would it bother her to eat him? In fact, hadn't she actually said she would? The thought,
after all, wasn't so unpleasant and anyway, who was he to judge, trying to get a peek while eating
his girlfriend? He took a good pull at his mug of beer. It was as good as he remembered, a full-
bodied heady brew and it went well with the calf steak he was eating. He suddenly flashed back
to a memory of those calves wrapped over his back not so long ago, stimulating an odd mixture
of bittersweet nostalgia and lust.
"Joint?" Miki offered, passing him a small marijuana cigarette, half smoked.
"Thanks," he said, accepting it and taking a quick toke. Hmm. Not hashish, he judged, grass and
probably home grown. "Nice," he said, stifling a cough.
"Grew it myself," Miki said proudly.
"May I....?" Miki nodded. Richard offered it to Karen.
"Thanks," Karen said, taking a long pull, holding it, and then passed it back. Richard offered it
back to Miki, who indicated that he should take another toke, so he did, then he passed it back.
He applied himself to his calf steak again. A firm, fine-grained meat, not unlike venison. Not the
same, of course, but more like venison than pork. Why was that, he wondered. It was an
intriguing question. Well, deer, like humans, were free range, not raised on farms and fed up for
bulk rather than quality. Of course, humans were omnivores like pigs rather than herbivores like
deer. Which factor was most important? As with any other question about food, the truth was in
the taste. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as they say. He'd say Julie was more deer
than pig. He was tapping his fingers and nodding his head as Beck boogied along with 'Freeway
Jam' when he remembered where he was. Shit, this was good dope. He'd forgotten how much
better home-grown grass was than the commercial stuff.
"How did you swing that?" Adam asked, staring at the succulent vision on his plate.
"Called in a few favours, twisted a few arms," Joan shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"There are some things Man was not meant to know, eh?" Adam shook his head. "I thought the
Profs always got the best parts. And you weren't HER Prof anyway..."
"Her Prof owes me a few favours," Joan said. "Anyway, it's not his favourite dish. Eat up, before it
gets cold."
"You're not having one?" Adam persisted.
"It's not my favourite part either," Joan said, "But I thought you might like to try it. Anyway, I'm
trying to seduce you, remember? What better way than to serve you one of your previous
girlfriend's breasts?"
"I thought I was trying to seduce you."
"Lots of men think that until the woman gets him," Joan said archly. "The way to a man's heart is
through his stomach, they say. I'll just settle for your dick."
Not cooked and in a hot dog bun, Adam hoped. It wasn't the first part of Jennifer he'd eaten. He'd
had a selection of her red meat and even a portion of her liver, all beautifully cooked. Then, when
he'd thought he could hardly eat any more, Joan had offered him a special dessert. It looked like
Breast a l'Orange. It looked delicious. The cooks must have basted it in a special sauce that had
glazed it. Of course he'd had Jenny's breasts in his mouth before and had even thought about
biting them - she'd loved it when he'd nipped her nipples with his teeth and said he'd like to eat
them - but he'd never expected actually to have one on his dinner plate. Joan had already had a
fair share of Jenny's meat, as well as Megan's prime cut, and was now working her way in a
leisurely fashion through a few more slices of Julie. In honour of her favourite student, she'd said.
Breasts, Adam knew, contained a fair amount of fatty tissue. Hardly recommended for a calorie-
controlled diet. Not to worry, it wasn't as if he'd be eating them very often. What really worried
him, he realised, was that he was afraid he wouldn't like it. He could actually imagine Jennifer
being disappointed if he didn't. It would be embarrassing if he met her again in some hypothetical
afterlife and she asked him if he'd enjoyed eating one of her tits. What would he say to her? 'Oh,
er, not so bad, but I really enjoyed your liver'? He knew perfectly well that it was irrational; Jenny
was dead and he'd never meet her again, but somehow it still mattered. It's hard not to get a bit
sentimental about eating a former lover.
It was almost a shame to spoil such a beautiful dish, Adam mused and then realised that he was
just procrastinating. You could have said that about all of Jennifer. He took a deep breath and cut
a wedge-shaped slice. The texture was soft under the crispy skin. He bit into it. The flavour was
unusual, milky and slightly savoury at the same time, like a slightly meaty blancmange with a
tangy crust. It was probably an acquired taste, he decided, but, thank God, it wasn't unpleasant.
He tried some more. Not bad at all, in fact. A few more slices and he decided it was delicious.
Lucky that Jenny had had such a generous pair of tits. Carefully, he sliced off the nipple, popped
it into his mouth and chewed it. Suddenly, he had a vivid mental picture of Jennifer alive under
him, her face contorted in ecstasy, climaxing as he bit off her nipples. He almost came in his
pants himself. For a minute, he struggled to control himself, finally muttering "Nice one, Jenny,
you nearly had me there." He glanced aside to see Joan giving him a knowing smile. He gave
back a facial shrug. Lots of people probably reacted like that.
"The aphrodisiac properties work better when you knew them," Joan commented.
"I'll drink to that," Adam said, and suited action to words before resuming.
"Getting a taste for it?" Joan asked, after Adam had cleared the plate.
"Definitely," Adam said, his eyes dropping to Joan's chest.
"Yes, I imagine you'd get a few good mouthfuls out of these," Joan teased.
"Pity yours won't be on the menu ever again," Adam replied, unabashed. "Maybe they could have
a students' day feast with the faculty facing the lottery." He made a wry face. "And then again,
maybe not. None of the others are as appetising as you."
"How sweet," Joan said, "You do know how to flatter a lady. I bet Jennifer was a pushover with
chat-up lines like that."
"It's not flattery," Adam said. "I'd eat you any day. Since I can't..."
"You'll settle for sex. Besides, you're already full."
"Full, yes, but 'settle for' isn't the term I'd have used. Care to dance?" Jeff Beck was still playing.
"You can dance? To this?"
"Of course not. I'll just stumble around, step on your feet and ogle your tits and legs. I'm a bloke,
remember?"
"I've had worse first dates," Joan said.
Miki leaned back from the table at last. "God Almighty," she said, "That was good. I can't blame
you guys for wanting to eat us. I would."
"No problem, then," Richard said, "If you get picked at the next Summer Feast, I will, with the
greatest of pleasure."
Miki gave him a mischievously coy smile. "What, you'll nibble on my tiny toes?"
"I'll be first in line piling my plate up," Richard retorted. "I'd have you raw right now if I wasn't
already full."
"Mmmm," Miki drawled languidly. "Raw me stuffed with roast Julie, a connoiseur's delight. I'd go
for that. Good grief, what's this?"
The music had changed again. It sounded like an old fashioned heavy blues-rock band with a
brilliant guitarist playing out a nervous breakdown. "I must get help before I go insane.." the
vocalist rasped....
"Split," Richard said darkly.
"Is that an order?" Miki seemed amused.
"No, it's an album. 'Split' by the Groundhogs. The leader of the band - the one going berserk on
guitar - thought he was really going mad so he did some songs about it."
"Oh, you have hidden depths. I might have known. And to think some people think
mathematicians only listen to Bach."
Richard shrugged. "I do that too, but one day I was feeling terminally depressed and somebody I
knew came around and thought I was cracking up. I was, probably. I'd even tried Librium. Guess
what he did?"
Miki cupped her chin prettily in her hand. "Do tell."
"He dragged me over to his rooms, stuck a lit joint in my mouth and earphones on my head and
played 'Split' very loud."
"And traumatised you forever? Was it a total disaster?"
"Not exactly. Not for me, anyway. I felt a lot better by the end of it. He ended up in a mental
hospital. He had it on the main speakers too. Great stereo system he had."
"Radical therapy," Miki said. "Reverse transference? I'd guess you were the stronger personality."
Richard shrugged. "What, he absorbed my mental malaise? Is that Freudian or Jungian? It's just
witchcraft to me. Psychology, psychiatry, all mumbo jumbo and pseudo science."
"Witchcraft, I'll give you," Miki agreed. "But it worked, didn't it? Sometimes witchcraft does. Your
friend should have protected himself better."
"And you'd know all about that, I suppose?"
"All? No, but look at where we are. In a feasting hall at Solstice, devouring the sacrifices to renew
ourselves. Doesn't it stir your blood?"
It would be hard to deny that, Richard thought, but he didn't want to admit it. "Oh, really? So how
does it feel knowing you could be one of the sacrifices?" As soon as he'd said it, he had a feeling
he'd made a mistake.
"Wonderful," Miki purred. "Eating dear, lovely Julie, knowing that it could have been me, that
maybe it will be me next time, you can't imagine how good it is. I'm so horny I could fuck a goat.
Preferably a male goat, but I'm not fussy at the moment. You men don't know you're born. We
women know we're flesh and blood, we're meat like any animal...."
"Sorry, don't have any goats," Richard retorted feebly, "And if I did have one you'd probably
sacrifice it to Satan."
"Oh, bugger Satan," Miki shot back, "He's just a bugbear invented by the Christians, a straw man
set up to demonise the older, earthier religions...."
"I don't have a goat either," Karen put in, "But I do have 'The Wicker Man' on DVD. That, and
some cheap wine back at my place and, if Mister Clean here won't fuck you, I will."
("Nice to see you're back with us," Richard noted with some relief.)
"I've had worse offers," Miki considered. "I've probably missed Doctor Who by now and if I'm
going to fuck a woman at midwinter I might as well start with the best. I was hoping for a bout
with the new King, of course..."
"What on Earth are you talking about?" Richard grumble-grunted.
Both women turned to him.
"She means..." Karen started and then glanced at Miki.
Miki raised her eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious? You and James go out into the night. One comes
back. Work it out. Butted antlers, did you? Who won? As if I need to ask."
"You're both mad," Richard said. The Groundhogs seemed to agree that somebody was as the
guitarist ripped holes in the air.
"Men always think their superiors are mad," Miki pronounced archly, standing up. "Shall we
dance?"
"Doctor Doom, wasn't it? I can't quite see how that goes to your point...." Richard allowed Miki to
lead him away from the table. "If I'm the Horned King, the Alpha Male or whatever, how are you
superior?"
"Because we're the Kingmakers," Miki riposted. "You may rule the Earth above, but we ARE the
Earth, above and below, we're the sacrifices and the Goddesses Ishtar and Ereshkigal too. We're
not afraid to be eaten. Julie wasn't afraid."
"I still think you're both mad," Richard said, flinching slightly at the mention of Julie, but in a small
corner of his mind it seemed to make a warped kind of sense. It must have been the dope. "Or
you're just having me on. Come on, you're making it up as you go along, aren't you?" Julie wasn't
afraid? No, that was true, she hadn't been.
"Yes and no," Miki said, "And if I was, does that mean it isn't true?" She held out a slender arm.
"Karen? Won't you join the dance?" Back to Richard, "Doctor Doom? It's nice to know some
people still read the classics."
Karen stood up with an odd smile on her face. "It was the shoes," she said. "She just couldn't
stop dancing."
"The further off from England,
"The nearer is to France...." Miki singsonged.
"So will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"
Kate Bush joined the discussion via the music system:
"With no words,
"And no song,
"You're gonna dance a dream with your body on..."
Richard gave up. There was no point asking any more questions about it or they'd probably try to
teach him fainting in coils. He went out with the tide and joined the dance. Of course, he couldn't
really dance, so he just lumbered around trying not to step on anybody's feet while the girls
danced around him, twisting themselves into incredibly graceful yet seductive poses considering
that they both had full bellies. It must be a genetic talent, he supposed, or something hormonal.
Women always danced better than men. Maybe it was the body proportions, they had lighter
upper bodies. That or their mothers taught them in secret while the boys were out riding bikes,
climbing trees and throwing rocks at each other.
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails
That's what little boys are made of !
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what little girls are made of!
No wonder we grow up wanting to eat them, Richard thought. Not far away, he could see Adam
'dancing' like a badly trained bear while Joan elegantly avoided being trampled, flaunting herself
shamelessly as she did it. It had probably been this way since the Stone Age.
The music changed again. Richard recognised it from the intro. Possibly danceable if you were
stoned enough not to care what you danced to. It had a snappy, jolting rhythm.
"Good grief, what's this?" Miki wondered aloud.
"Line Dancing With Monkeys," Richard said loudly, almost shouting, just as the track hit a quiet
patch. By another coincidence, the general Brownian movement made his group's orbit cross
close to that of Adam and Joan's gyrations.
"Sounds good to me," Adam said as the guitar came in.
"So let's do it," Karen said, holding out her arms. The party all joined hands.
After an indeterminate time, punctuated by lots of bumping into people, the party line broke up.
Every time the Jeff Beck 'Monkeys' track had ended, somebody had called for it to be put on
again, so it had been running on a loop for as long as everybody's strength held out.
Something caught Richard's eye. A male figure, fully dressed but dishevelled looking, sitting at a
table on his own. "Excuse me," he muttered to the others and went over. The figure lifted its
head warily. "James? Good grief, what happened to you, man?"
A look passed over James' face. A flash of bitter anger quickly suppressed. "Went for a walk.
Must have got mugged or something," he grunted. He made fleeting eye contact.
"Oh dear. Should I call Security?"
"No point. Didn't get a good look at them. They'll be long gone by now."
"I suppose so. Well, if that's what you think best....anything else I can do?"
"No, that's quite enough, thanks," James muttered testily.
"Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" Richard asked rhetorically and turned away without waiting
for a response. It was a bit of a relief, he had to admit. James obviously didn't want to make a
fuss about the fact that he'd just had the crap beaten out of him by Potter the Nerd. He walked
back to the table where Miki and Karen were waiting with fresh drinks.
James watched him go, without warmth. The cocky little bastard looked fresh as a daisy, give or
take a bit of light sweat. The well-worn leather jacket actually suited him and even the small,
abraded bruise on his face only added to the slightly rugged, raffish look. Since when had Potter
become the cool, tough guy? And now off he went to join the two best looking women in the
room. Life wasn't fair. He got to his feet painfully and made his way over to the drinks table.
Sometimes you just can't win, he reflected, as he grabbed a half-full bottle of whisky and left,
stumbling slightly.
"We shouldn't let them keep her head," Karen was saying. It seemed she'd been thinking about
this for a while.
"So, what should we do?" Richard asked curiously as he joined them. "Steal it and keep it as a
trophy? Give it a decent burial?"
"No," Karen said. "We should take it and eat her brain."
"Cool!" Miki said flippantly. She adopted a B-movie zombie posture, slack jawed and groping
hands. "Braaaaains!" Karen glared at her. "Sorry, just kidding. Are you serious?"
"Yes," Karen said shortly.
Richard was tempted to ask how much she'd had to drink - or smoke - but thought better of it.
Might as well humour her for a while until he worked out just how mad she was. "Why should we
do that?" he asked patiently.
Karen gave him a suspicious look, then made a dismissive motion. "Because," she said with
equal patience, "It's the right thing to do. Or do you really think Julie would want to have her head
pickled and gathering dust on a shelf in the faculty lounge?"
Richard wasn't sure Julie would have cared, he hadn't given it that much thought. "So, what
she'd want is....?"
"She committed herself to being eaten," Karen said. "So that's what we should do. Do it properly,
finish the job."
Richard thought about it. Maybe she had a point. Would Julie really have wanted to end up as a
forgotten trophy on a shelf, ignored by people she'd never known? He wasn't sure what to say.
"She's right, you know," Miki said, looking upward with eyes focussed on some interior reality. Her
gaze snapped back to the room and focussed on Karen. "What's the plan?"
"My plan," Richard said firmly, "Is to get another beer. Miki, any chance of another joint?" His real
plan was to get Karen stoned enough to forget her cunning plan. It was insane. The thought of
stealing Julie's head and eating it struck him as grotesque and repulsive, but he couldn't justify
that feeling logically.
"We just go into the kitchen and ask for it," Karen said. "Say the staff have asked us to bring it to
them. Oh, shit, I don't know. Just improvise. If you act like you know what you're doing, people
tend to believe you."
Miki was rolling a joint. "You do it, then," she said. "We can't all just roll up in there mob-handed.
They'll spot a student prank a mile away."
"Why me?" Karen inquired. "Richard is the one who...."
"Who what?" Richard retorted. "You should do it because the kitchen staff will be too busy
drooling to argue. Walk in there in your underwear and you could probably ask them for their
bollocks on a plate. What do they care about the head of a woman they killed?"
"Richard," Karen said gently, "They see naked women all the time. When they skewer them."
"Not many like you," Richard said. "They'll be hoping they'll see you naked next time and then
they'll get to skewer YOU."
"Hear the words of The Man," Miki commented drily. "He's right, you know. Joint's ready." She lit
up, took a brief toke and passed it to Richard. Richard inhaled deeply and felt the rush topping
him up. The music had changed to 'Don't Make Waves' by Brand X and he stopped to admire
the bass figures for a moment. "I used to dream I was in Thailand...." He drifted.
"Don't Bogart it," Miki said, and Richard passed the joint to Karen. "Weren't you going to get a
beer?"
Richard nodded and got up. "Anybody want anything?"
"Surprise me," Miki said.
Karen shook her head, seemingly abstracted.
Richard walked over to the drinks table and got himself a pint of Hook Norton bitter. What would
Miki like? He looked around. The party seemed to have thinned out. A lot of people had left but
knots of determined revellers were getting more raucous. He wondered where the music was
being controlled from and eventually discovered the DJ, a long-haired neo-hippy, at a console. He
tapped the man on the shoulder, pulled his headphones off, and handed him the drink. "Thirsty
work, mate" he said. "Thought you might need one."
The DJ reacted with indignation at first and then took a look at Richard and thought again. "Oh.
Right. Yeah, thanks, mate."
"You're doing a great job. Just a suggestion," Richard said. He explained. On the way back, he
picked up two pint of Theakston's Old Peculier for himself and Miki. If she didn't like it, he'd drink
them both. As he got back to the table, he heard "Nightmare Patrol" starting. "Where's Karen,"
he asked Miki, setting the drinks down.
"She left on a mission of no doubt great importance," Miki said. "I hope she doesn't get herself
toasted. I'd just about got used to the idea of shagging the most beautiful woman in the Universe
and I'd be a bit cheesed off if she got herself topped before I did it."
Richard nodded. "That would put a bit of a damper on your plans for the evening."
"OUR plans, I hope. Please don't tell me you're getting cold feet about the orgy? I've already
missed Doctor Who, I don't think I could stand another disappointment tonight." She sipped the
dark ale. "Mmm, this is good."
"Glad you like it. No, I'm still up for it. If the most beautiful woman in the Universe doesn't come
back, I'll fuck you anyway. If you want, of course. Deal?"
"Deal." Miki stuck a hand out and Richard shook it. The movement exposed her small right
breast.
Karen pushed open the door to the kitchen, still with no clear plan in mind. The cooks had
already started cleaning up. Her entrance didn't go entirely unnoticed.
"Sorry, love, if you want to volunteer, you're a bit too late."
"But if you want to get your kit off and lie down on a table, we'll spit you anyway."
"We can't spit her," someone said anxiously, "She's not..."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I just meant..."
An authoritative voice cut in. "Shut up, you lot, and get back to work. What do you want, Miss?"
"Julie," Karen said. "What's left of her."
"Who's Julie, remind me...?"
"For Christ's sake, the one who didn't want to leave. God, she was hot for it. She could hardly
wait to get shafted. Don't you just love it when they go like that?"
"Julie Grant," Karen said steadily. "My roommate."
"Number 406, wasn't it?" Authoritative Man cut in. "Yes, we cooked her. Nice job, too. Nothing
but scraps left now, I should think. Probaby a few bits left on plates in the Hall. We'll collect all the
leftovers and keep the bits we can reuse. Sandwiches, soup, stock and so on. The rest goes in
the bins and gets recycled as fertiliser or something."
"Bone meal," somebody put in. "The guts go for pig food."
"Pity, really. She wasn't bad looking."
"I'd have shagged her. I've seen worse."
"What was it you wanted, exactly?" Authoritative Man cut in again.
"Her head," Karen said.
"Jesus wept," Miki said. "What the fuck is THIS?"
"It's called 'The Visitation', Richard said calmly. "By White Noise. Be afraid. Be very afraid..."
"Yes, but what IS it?"
It sounded like a haunting in a cathedral at midnight at first. A dirgelike organ theme with ghostly
whispers seeming to come from a great distance panned around. Then it got really scary.
"It's the last thing you hear before you go insane and wake up in a padded cell", Richard said.
"That's nice," Miki said nervously "Shit! What was THAT?" Just when it seemed the music
couldn't get any weirder or more disturbing, it had. Maybe she shouldn't have had that last joint.
"Well, the next to last thing," Richard teased. "After this, it will be 'Sisyphus' for light relief, and
then...."
"And then what?" Miki snapped, looking nervous and more than a little annoyed.
"Black Mass: An Electric Storm in Hell. If anybody is still here by then."
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
Richard shook his head, smiling infuriatingly.
"I'd like to say 'please tell me that's not what it sounds like' but you're not going to, are you?"
"No," Richard said. "It's much, much worse. It does what it says on the tin. Oh, come on, get into
it, you're a Doctor Who fan. Imagine you're five years old and seeing the Daleks for the first
time....." He struck a pose with his arms tucked in to his body, forearms extended from just above
the waist and rasped "Exterminate!"
"Very funny." Miki grimaced and then winced at another sonic assault. The room seemed to have
acquired another dimension, as if the music inhabited a larger space than the hall did. Noises
stranger than anything a synthesiser could produce panned around it and there was the sound of
a woman's sobbing mixed in with it. 'Disturbing' hardly covered it. But there WAS something
oddly familiar about it. "Who.....did this?"
"Exactly," Robert said, with that infuriating grin again. Miki glared at him and he relented. "Delia
Derbyshire, mainly," he said.
"Oh." The penny dropped and this time Miki's grimace turned into a wry appreciative grin. Delia
Derbyshire was the genius responsible for the original Doctor Who theme music, which had
terrorised children since 1963. "Oh, very clever." She punched Richard on the arm. He'd got her
number and nailed her fair and square. She looked around the room. Some people were looking
uneasy or simply heading for the door. Some of them seemed to be outraged and protesting,
looking around for someone to blame.
"That won't do them any good," Richard explained. "The program's set and it's all on automatic
now. The music is all digitally stored so they can't 'take the record off'...."
"Geek alert," Miki noted as if to herself. "I get it," she said. "You're the Master and your Master
Plan cannot be foiled. You should have a moustache to twirl."
Richard twirled an imaginary moustache.
"We can't give you the head," Authoritative Man said. "They belong to the faculty."
Karen looked around. The kitchen suddenly looked like the anteroom to Hell. Maybe she
shouldn't have had that last joint. She got a grip on herself. "And they're, what? Lizards from
Mars? Tell them you accidentally dropped it into the bone grinder. How many heads do they
need, anyway?"
"What's in it for us?" somebody asked.
"Head for head," Karen said, daftly inspired and reckless. "I'll suck your dicks so hard I'll swallow
your bollocks like eating meatballs through a straw. Anybody up for that? No? Come on, are you
men or meeces?"
"Why don't we just roast her here?" somebody said, "Have a little midnight party of our own." He
licked his lips ostentatiously.
"Take too long and, besides, we're not authorised to do that," somebody else said wearily.
"Oh, come on, who'd miss her? Students disappear all the time. We could just chop her up and
cook her in pieces. Stick the leftovers in with the others. Burn the hair with her underwear and
chuck her head in the bone grinder. Easy peasy."
Another voice chimed in. "You're Karen Parker, aren't you?" The man snapped his fingers. "Yes,
you are. Almost didn't recognise you with clothes on. Almost clothes, anyway." He gave Karen an
appreciative leer. The underwear didn't hide much.
Karen didn't say anything.
"Oh, come on. Nearly got roasted at the last Summer Feast? You don't remember me, do you?
I'm Tom. I was the one sticking the spit up your pussy. Seemed to me you liked it. That's what
you're here for, isn't it? You want us to finish the job. Come on, admit it. Get yer undies off and
we'll do you."
Karen was beginning to think she'd overplayed her hand. She was used to most men, and more
than a few women, falling at her feet. She hadn't always been consciously aware of it but,
subconsciously, she'd probably always known and come to rely on it. It came upon her suddenly
that, to these men, she was just meat. "You can't do that," she said uncertainly. Couldn't they?
She was more than a little stoned and wasn't quite sure. She wasn't quite sure of anything any
more.
"Sure we can. Come on, don't be shy. Your pal Julie enjoyed it."
"We don't have time to spit roast her, remember?" one of the others pointed out pickily.
"We can oil her before we chop her up," someone suggested helpfully. "They usually enjoy that
bit."
"Yeah, that's only fair," Tom agreed. "How about it?" he asked Karen.
"Wait, wait," Karen sputtered, still off-balance. "You saw Julie...." Of course he had, idiot, she
scolded herself.
"Saw her? Oiled her and skewered her, more like. Now, SHE knew how to take a shaft." Tom's
tone was one of admiration, or at least approval.
Karen felt pleased on Julie's behalf, despite herself. "And then....?"
Tom shrugged. "Then we cooked her, what else?"
"I mean..." What DID she mean?
"She means the bit with the other girl. The one with the big tits?"
"Oh, that one."
"Jennifer," Karen put in.
"Jennifer, whatever," Tom said impatiently. "Yeah, she came in and practically begged us to do
her, so we did her a favour and skewered her. We had to let one of the others go, and we were
going for the blonde girl at first because she came in last. But the blonde girl said she wasn't the
last called, she was just late, and we should let your pal Julie go. But your pal Julie said she'd
stay and Blondie could go. Okay? Now if you'll just get up on the table..."
"I don't think this is wise," Authoritative man said, not sounding quite so authoritative now. "We
could get into serious trouble...."
"Come off it, Jack, aren't we always saying we're sick of getting the leftover scraps? Can't we just
have ourselves a fresh one for once?"
"Somebody's bound to notice..."
"Who? The faculty won't sober up for two days and we'll have got rid of the scraps by then. By the
time they find out, they'll prob'ly just want to brush it all under the carpet. Bit of a mix up, sorry
and all that..."
"Just how many of you have been drinking on the job anyway?"
"Lighten up, it's Christmas...."
So, Karen mused, Michiko had been telling the truth, if there'd been any doubt. Julie really had
chosen to do it. It's not as if she hadn't thought about it herself. Had she ever really stopped?
Even when she'd had a chance to get dressed again, she'd come back in her underwear. And
now, here she was, in the kitchen. It was fate.
"....And here's our turkey." Tom gave Karen a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Just when we need
one. It's like Providence. Mick, Dave, give me a hand." Karen found herself seized, not at all
roughly, and urged towards the table. Her buttocks met the edge of it and then she was leaning
back, then being pulled onto it. Before she could do anything about it, she was sprawled on her
back and a pair of hands was pulling her panties off.
"No," she said feebly, and thrust her hips upward and tried to spread her legs to keep her panties
on, but the movement was more than half a sexual response.
"Don't struggle, Miss," Mick or Dave said gently. "It'll go easier." They'd obviously done this sort of
thing any number of times.
"We're all going to jail," somebody else said resignedly.
"Nah. We'll say she volunteered and by the time they've finished arguing about who said what
and who did which, we'll probably just get a fine or a suspended sentence." Tom was pretty
convincing, Karen had to admit. There wasn't much point trying to struggle against three strong
men. She felt hands expertly remove her lacy bra.
Jack made one last attempt to bring the crew to their senses. "I don't think it'll be quite that easy,"
he said, "And they'll sure as Hell fire the lot of us anyway."
"Very probably," Tom admitted. He stood aside slightly, indicating Karen's naked body with a
flourish of his hand. "Worth it or what?"
Karen had the feeling he had the mob on his side. It wasn't entirely unexpected or, she had to
admit, entirely unwelcome. Julie was gone and now it was her turn. She'd always known she'd be
eaten one day, it seemed to her now, and today was the day. Christmas, how appropriate. She
felt eager hands oiling her, turning her into food. She shuddered.
"She's getting into it," Mick or Dave said. "Maybe we could get her to sign herself off."
"How about it, Karen?" Tom inquired politely.
"If I don't, will you let me go?"
"No, sorry," Tom said. "We're going to eat you anyway. Would you really want to make a fuss
after you're gone?"
This actually sounded reasonable to Karen. She got a grip on herself, or at least half of one. "No,"
she said. "If you want to eat me you're going to have to be prepared to pay for it."
"Fair enough," Tom said without rancour. "Worth a try."
"My boyfriend's going to kill you when he finds out," Karen muttered, almost to herself. She was
still enjoying being oiled. It had been nice doing that with Barbara, but having it done by three
men was good too. It's different, Barb, but just as good, sorry.
"Who's your boyfriend, the Incredible Hulk?" Mick or Dave wondered indifferently.
"Wolverine's scarier," Dave or Mick countered. "Or the Terminator."
"Richard," Karen said. "He's a mathematician."
"I'm trembling in my boots."
Karen was nettled. "A mathematician who just beat a jock half to death because he got a bit
annoyed with him."
Dave and Mick looked at each other, smirking faintly. "We'll take our chances."
"Now THAT," Miki exclaimed, "Was the creepiest thing I've ever heard. And the scariest. And
more than a little warped. What kind of a twisted mind produces something like that? I'm going to
have nightmares for a month."
"Knew you'd like it," Richard said nonchalantly. Actually, he felt a bit spooked himself. It didn't
matter how many times he heard it, it always did that.
"Loved it. Hated it, if you see what I mean, but, yes, really loved it. Have you got a copy? And, if
so, can I get one?"
"I've got the whole album, of course," Richard said. "You should really play it all the way through
in the original order. I'll copy it for you."
"Thanks," Miki said. "You're a purist, then?"
Richard shrugged. "Not always, but this is a special case. Trust me."
"I'll treasure it. I'll keep it in a little brass bound black box in the corner of the room and stare at it
warily once in a while."
Richard nodded. "A moderate approach. Some people just flung the old vinyl version out of the
window or gave it to some stranger on the street and begged them to take it away."
Miki smirked at him wrily and then, when he shook his head, smiling, said "You're not kidding,
are you?"
"No."
Sysiphus had started and it was, as Richard had said, light relief by comparison. It was only the
torment of someone in Hades, after all. Miki lit another small joint. "I wonder where Karen's got
to," she wondered. "She should be back by now."
"Karen can take care of herself," Richard said, but he was frowning slightly. He'd lost track of time
for a while, but it had been a bit too long.
"I'm not so sure," Miki said. "She was in a funny mood when she left." She pulled at the joint and
passed it over. "You know, fey, like somebody in the Lord of the Rings when they're away with the
fairies, treading the Paths of the Dead or something."
"You think she's gone to get herself eaten?" Richard's frown deepened.
"I think she may have bitten off more than she can chew," Miki said and made a wry grimace.
"Those kitchen wallahs looked pretty peckish to me. Maybe they've decided to bite off and chew
some of her."
"And that would definitely put a crimp in your plans for the evening," Richard said. He'd always
thought Karen could handle almost anything. Who could resist her? But maybe that was the
problem. Maybe they couldn't resist her in another way, one that should have been obvious from
the start. "They couldn't really do that, could they?"
Miki shrugged. "Who knows? And, if you don't mind, it might put a bit of a dent in your plans
too."
Richard took a deep breath through his nose and squared his shoulders. "All right. Come on,
Ace, we've got work to do."
Miki grinned. "Tally Ho, Professor!"
"How are we going to cook her, then?" Mick or Dave asked.
"Oh, any way we like, I suppose, if we're doing her in parts," one of them said, vigorously
massaging oil into Karen's left thigh. "I fancy a thick, juicy steak of this, medium rare, quick fried
in olive oil and a pinch of tarragon, with coarse black pepper and a bit of mustard."
"Sounds good to me," the other one said.
"Hey, I'm still here," Karen grumbled. Actually, it sounded pretty good to her too.
"Well, if you've got any better suggestions, feel free. Good cook, are you?"
"Not bad," Karen said defensively. Well, she wasn't bad, but she suspected that they were much
better. They were professionals, after all, and cooking women was their speciality. Now she felt
honour bound to come up with some ideas for cooking herself. The absurdity of the situation
wasn't lost on her. She was just lying here passively, letting it happen, but what else could she
do? She was a strong, healthy woman, but she was surrounded by stronger men and there were
plenty of choppers at hand; if she struggled and made too much fuss, they could just kill her on
the spot, she was going to die anyway. How on Earth had she allowed herself to get into this
situation?
"Who gets her pussy?" somebody asked. Tom, Mick and Dave had been joined by as many of
the crew as could get around the table, and they were all massaging oil into any parts of Karen
they could reach, while trying to decide which parts of her they wanted to eat. Karen felt like a
downed gazelle surrounded by a pack of hyenas. She'd often wondered what that felt like, being
eaten alive. She'd heard it speculated that the body goes into a kind of shock that anaesthetises
it and the experience isn't at all as unpleasant as it looks. Of course, there was only one way to
find out.
"Draw straws?" somebody suggested. Karen felt a hand cup and manipulate her pubic mound.
"I've never had one of these. This one's really juicy." And getting juicier every second, Karen
thought. She didn't bother to try and close her legs. She might as well enjoy this while she could.
It couldn't be much longer before they started to cut her up. Would they chop her head off first?
She wondered if she'd still be conscious when they tossed her head into the bone grinder, and
winced internally. She really didn't fancy the idea of that.
"Who gets my breasts?" she inquired. "You've got to decide that too, unless you're going to slice
them up."
"Good point," Mick or Dave agreed. He turned to the others. "What ARE we doing about that?"
"By the way," Karen pressed on, "Which one are you, Mick or Dave?"
"Mick, why?"
"Nothing in particular, it's just been driving me mad," Karen said. Maybe if she could keep them
talking long enough, somebody would come to her rescue. She didn't really believe it, but she
had to try. Playing for time was all she had left. Well, everybody dies and all we can ever do is
delay the inevitable. Maybe Richard would stage a last minute rescue. Fat chance, he was
probably still getting stoned with Miki. She might even have dragged him off to bed by now.
"Slice them and everybody gets a piece who wants one," Tom said decisively. "Come on, we
haven't got all night. It's time we gave her the chop and got on with it."
Well, that was one question answered. Karen shuddered, her mouth suddenly dry. "Really? So
soon? And I was just starting to enjoy it," she rasped hoarsely.
"Sorry, Karen, can't be helped. Hold still, please."
Karen tensed. She was acutely aware of the surface of the table beneath her, of the way her body
felt. Her senses were heightened. In a moment, she wouldn't be able to feel anything much at all,
her body would be gone. She would miss it, at least for a couple of minutes. She felt a wave of
profound regret, of loss, and also the sensation of an incredibly acute rising orgasm. Did every
woman experience this the minute before she died? "Don't put me in the bone grinder 'til you're
sure I'm dead," she croaked. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and almost missed the sound of
the door opening.
"Stop right there," Richard said.
What the kitchen staff saw was a young man of average size, presumably a student, in a stylishly
battered leather jacket and ordinary jeans, followed by a smallish, pretty, blond girl.
"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in here?" Tom demanded angrily and
perhaps a little defensively.
"I'm the Doctor," Richard said, "And this is my obligatory nubile assistant. Now I'm supposed to
say 'Last warning, stop this now or I'll stop you'. Right?" This last was addressed to Miki.
"Close enough. Hi, Karen."
"Hi, Miki," Karen croaked. "I'd get up, but somebody's holding a meat cleaver over my neck and it
looks pretty sharp."
Richard took another good look at the scenario. Karen was lying on a table, covered in oil and
nothing else, surrounded by the kitchen staff doing a good impression of a bunch of startled
ghouls. It would have made a fantastic pulp magazine cover. The poised chopper was the perfect
finishing touch. "All right, Igor, put down that cleaver and step away. Joke's over."
"Or you'll do what?" Tom blustered.
"Oh, please," Richard said contemptuously. One of the staff rushed and tried to grab him. He
grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it in some obscure fashion and forced him to the ground,
without much apparent effort. "Venusian karate," he muttered aside to Miki.
"You think you can take us all?" Tom demanded, though he was visibly rattled.
"Better and better," Richard said sotto voce. Aloud, he said. "Maybe, maybe not, but I can
certainly make a mess of some of you. Anybody want to be the first to try it?" Nobody moved.
"And suppose you do win, what will you do then? Kill us both, hide our bodies, cover it all up?
Get a grip on reality, people. You've had your little bit of fun, it's over, you're busted."
Jack sighed, probably in relief. "He's right, you know. Give it up, Tom, this was a stupid idea in
the first place."
Tom hesitated. "All right," Richard said sharply. "You've had your chance. Miki, go out and inform
the faculty, tell them to call security. I'll hold the door."
"Got it, Doctor," Miki said, sketching a salute and turning to go. She was still too near the door for
anyone to stop her and they'd have to get past Richard first. Checkmate.
"Wait, wait," Tom called urgently.
Richard held up a hand and Miki hesitated. "What?"
"If we stop, what happens?"
Richard shrugged. "If no harm's been done, we'll put it down to high spirits and let it go. This
time."
Mick and Dave nodded emphatically. "Sounds like a fair deal."
The man on the floor, ruefully nursing a painfully sprained wrist, advised "Take it."
But Tom had one last card to play. "What if the m...er....what if she doesn't want to go?"
"Let's ask her," Richard said. "And, for the last time, put that DOWN." It was the first time he'd
raised his voice and the effect was immediate. Tom jumped and then did as he was told. "Thank
you. Now, Karen, you can come back with me and Miki, have a nice stiff drink with some really
wild sex to follow, or you can stay and get chopped up and eaten by the Morlocks here. Your
call."
"Hey...." One of the staff seemed a bit nettled by the 'Morlocks' dig.
"This is not a debate," Richard cut him off brusquely, "Her decision is final."
Karen sat up, feeling slightly dizzy. "That's a tough one," she said. She turned to Tom. "You were
going to call me a muffin, weren't you?" She got off the table.
"I wasn't...I mean..." Tom floundered. "Jesus wept, you can't say anything to women they won't
pick at."
"Just for that, you don't get to eat me," Karen said. "Let that be a lesson to you. Unless he wants
to kill a couple of you just for fun....oh, by the way, this is my boyfriend, Richard. The
mathematician," she added with sardonic emphasis for Mick'n'Dave's benefit.
"I'm the Doctor," Richard corrected her mildly. "I don't kill people 'just for fun'. Not usually,
anyway." 'Boyfriend'? he wondered.
"Bloody hell," Dave muttered, "They make 'em a lot meaner than they used to."
"Where's my underwear?" Karen demanded.
The staff exchanged glances, looking a little sheepish. "We, uh, burned it," one of them admitted
at last. Noting Karen's darkening expression, he hurried on, "Oh, come on, be reasonable. We
didn't think you'd be needing it any more. Anyway, you look great without it. No offence meant."
"Definitely edible," Miki agreed, grinning michievously.
Somewhat mollified, Karen just grumbled "That stuff doesn't come cheap, you know. You guys
owe me. And I didn't even get....shit, Julie's head! That's what I came here for in the first place.
Give."
"But we can't..."
"No problem," Richard said easily. "We'll be off now. I'll just ask the faculty for it tomorrow, in
compensation for what you put Karen through. Of course, I'll have to explain why...."
"All right, all right!" Jack threw his hands up in exasperation. "Bill, get it. We'll have to explain it to
the faculty...."
"If you thought you could dispose of me and cover it up, I'm sure you'll manage," Karen said
unsympathetically.
"That wasn't my idea," Jack retorted and moved on quickly before she could point out that he
hadn't done much to stop it either, "Anything else?"
"Yes, actually," Miki said. "Any tasty bits of Julie you've got left in case we get the munchies later.
Oh, don't grumble. I'm sure you've got enough bits of April, Megan and Jennifer to keep the wolf
from the door. If you haven't, tough cheese, send out for pizza. In case you've forgotten, you just
tried to murder a friend of ours."
"'Murder' is a harsh word...."
"Damn," one of the Morlocks said. "We should have skewered you when we had the chance."
"Oh, you've finally recognised me? Don't tell me, it took a while because I've got clothes on?"
A shrug. "Yes and no. It's the attitude, the posture. You were a lovely little spit muffin. You'd have
made a great roaster."
"Thanks a bunch, and I've heard worse chat up lines, but I've already got a date.."
Jack looked at Richard. So did everybody else.
"Enough, everybody," Richard said. "Do what she asked." To Karen, "Are you okay?"
Karen stretched like a cat waking up, as if throwing off invisible chains. You could almost hear
jaws dropping and eyes popping out. "Never felt better in my life. And, by the way, thank you very
much."
"You're welcome. I could say we should stop meeting like this..."
Karen grinned. "Really wild sex?"
"Boyfriend?"
"Well, 'somebody I'm planning to fuck tonight' doesn't have quite the same ring to it."
Miki returned with two carrier bags. She lifted them demonstratively and said. "Got the goods.
Party time."
Conclusion
"Are we done, now?" Jack demanded. "Can we all just forget this happened? No hard feelings?"
Richard shrugged and looked to Karen. "Are YOU satisfied? They did try to turn you into a
Christmas turkey...." he paused and looked her over again. Naked and covered in oil, just like the
time he'd first met her. "You know, we've got to stop meeting like this..." he muttered.
Karen spread her hands. "Can you blame them?"
"Not me," Miki admitted. "If they'd cooked you before we turned up, I'd have settled for a place at
the table. At least, I would have if I wasn't already stuffed."
She had a point, Richard had to admit. The kitchen staff spent a lot of their time cooking luscious
female students for the faculty to eat and when Karen had walked in, half-naked - well, the same
thought might have crossed his own mind. In fact, it just had, and not for the first time. "All right,"
he said, "We're done." He paused, on the verge of saying something like 'Don't let me catch you
cooking any of my girlfriends again' but that sounded silly so he just added "This time."
The trio walked out into the main hall. As soon as they emerged they were assaulted by a sonic
barrage.
"Bloody Hell!" Karen exclaimed. "What the fuck's this, have the Daleks landed?"
"No, you were closer the first time," Miki said, grinning. "It's 'An Electric Storm in Hell', I'm
guessing. Right, Doctor?"
"Sounds like it," Karen said fervently. It sounded like the damned being digitised and
disintegrated all around her.
"I'm not the Doctor any more," Richard said. "No shagging in the TARDIS, remember?"
"I have my doubts about that," Miki said darkly. "You can't tell me he's been zipping round the
cosmos that long with all those hot chicks and he's never hit the sack with any of them."
There weren't many people left in the hall, just a few hardy souls were sticking it out regardless or
actually enjoying it.
"Besides, you were a great Doctor," Miki pressed on. "If you played him for real, I'd believe in you.
Which one were you aiming for?"
"Nobody in particular," Richard said. "Just the general idea. Act like you're in charge wherever
you are and know a bit more than everybody else and you've cracked it."
"And the 'Venusian karate'?"
"Old fashioned Earth martial arts. A bit of jiu-jitsu and I've always had good reflexes. Having some
muscle-brained idiot come at you like a bull at a gate helps. That was sheer luck. It's pretty easy
but it looks impressive. After that, it was a piece of cake."
"And you messed with the sound system too," Karen noted. "Unless the DJ is on a bad trip.
What was that for? And why hasn't anybody turned it off?"
"Because I 'persuaded' him to pre-program it. I thought we might need a diversion so I thought
about rigging a feed into the kitchen PA but we didn't need that. Besides, I was in a bit of a hurry,
I didn't have time. They couldn't turn it off because the system is locked and set for remote
control. And I have that." Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. With a
quick press of his thumb he turned the sound up, then he set the device down on the nearest
table.
"There's the sonic screwdriver," Miki said, delighted. "I wondered when that would turn up."
Karen shook her head in wonder. "You worked all that out in advance?"
"Not really. Just half-baked contingency plans, things I could use if I needed them. I was in that
sort of mood. Mostly it was bravado and, as I said, sheer luck. I wasn't even sure the kitchen staff
were going to try and cook you. If my intrepid assistant hadn't nudged me into action at the right
time, I'd have turned up too late to do anything but watch the Morlocks having you for supper."
"That's what we intrepid assistants are for," Miki said. "That and the shagging."
"Thanks for that," Karen said sincerely to Miki. "I'm still impressed. How did you know you'd need
'contingency plans' at all? What for? I thought you were still brooding about Julie or James or
something."
"I didn't know, any more than I suppose you knew what you were doing when you wandered off to
the kitchen. Frankly, I don't know exactly what I was thinking. It just seemed like a good idea at
the time, but I was a bit stoned. It might have backfired if I'd had to send Miki to alert the faculty,
because they've all buggered off."
"I'm sure you'd have thought of something," Miki said loyally.
"Your faith in me is touching," Richard said. The tone was ironic but his smile was warm. Miki
smiled back.
"The Dream Team," Karen said ironically. "None of us really knew what we were doing but it
worked anyway. All is cost was my lovely underwear. I'm still a bit miffed about that."
"Like you need it," Miki said. "What is it about that underwear,anyway? And what worked,
exactly? We only came to the kitchen to rescue you."
"Julie's head," Richard said. "If the Morlocks hadn't tried to fry Karen I wouldn't have had the
leverage to get it back. Not that I'm sure what we want it for, but...." he shook his head.
Miki nodded. "I'm sure in the morning we'll make sense of it all. Or maybe not. Christ Almighty,
this is like being in one of the Sylvester McCoy episodes. Ghost Light, even."
"It was a gift from my grandmother," Karen explained.
Miki shook her head. "Kinky lady. Was she the one who got eaten by the Big Bad Wolf? I'm
losing track of the plot, here."
"And I left my sandals in the kitchen," Karen added peevishly.
"We could go back," Richard suggested.
"No, thanks," Karen said. "Julie's boots are still in the cloakroom, I'll use those. I'm sure she
wouldn't mind."
Miki glanced at the carrier bags and thought about saying 'We could always ask her' but thought
better of it. Richard caught the look but let it go. "I think we're about done here," he said. "Where
to now?"
"Raxicoricofallapatorius?" Miki suggested. She smirked at Richard. "I've always wanted to say
that."
"My place," Karen said firmly. "I nearly got eaten - again - and I'm randy as a mink in heat."
"I know exactly how you feel," Miki said, "It has the same effect on me. Allons-y!"
Richard caught himself staring at the bag with Julie's head in it. Lines from the opening verse of
'Firebird' by White Noise popped into his head.
By the storm blown down,
With a broken wing
When I took her in hoping she'd stay.....
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. None of this could be real. Then he said "If I'm the
Doctor, I'm supposed to say that."
"So say it," Miki challenged.
"Allons-y!" Richard said.
The trio went out into the snowstorm.
Richard woke up with no memory of where he was and how he'd got there. Nothing new there,
then, he usually felt that way after a heavy night and he had a feeling he'd just had one. 'Line
Dancing' was still going through his head, alternating with 'Firebird'. What was unusual was that
he hadn't crashed out on a fellow maths student's couch, he was in a bed, but not his own.
'Milk and honey fed,
In a feathered bed
She got well and my love flew away.'
Not only that, but he wasn't alone in it. There was somebody else, definitely female. The warmth,
the scent, the softness. He remembered how that felt from the times he'd slept with Julie. But
Julie...
Memory returned slowly. Julie was dead. Definitely dead, he'd eaten her, you don't get more proof
of death than that. So who was the woman in bed with him? He stirred. There seemed to be too
many body parts for one woman. A leg here, an arm there, a head on his shoulder....two women.
Of course. Karen and Miki. He could barely remember what they'd done last night but flashes of it
flickered through his mind. Good grief, didn't they have ANY inhibitions? He didn't seem to be
missing any body parts and he hoped he wouldn't be too embarrassed when he remembered it
all...but Julie was gone.
'With the break of dawn
All the dream is gone
And I sink once again to the ground...'
One of the bodies stirred. Miki, slim and wiry as a weasel. "Mmmm..." she stretched and yawned.
"Mmmm....Richard...'morning..."
Richard didn't answer.
'But I'm just as high
In a rut looking up
As I was on a cloud looking down.'
Miki waved her hand. "Earth to Richard. You okay? Cat ate your brain?"
"I'm fine," Richard said. "I'm always fine." He looked up.