I had a small fermenter running in the lab. It really didn't need to be looked at: it would have been fine until Monday but I needed time to myself to think.
My research was going well. My supervisor Alastair McKenzie, was new to the department. He got his doctorate from Heriot Watt in Glasgow and two years ago returned from a postdoctoral fellowship at Stanford. I was his first postgraduate student and the rumour was that he was soon going to the MRC research labs in London.
I was still about a year from finishing when he mentioned that he had had an interview but he assured me that if he got the position he would make sure I finished on time, and he would help me with a fellowship. That was reassuring: the stars were aligning.
I phoned Mum to find out where she was - somewhere in town I knew - and could she pick me up. We sort of shared her Mini Countryman: she let me use it most times when I needed it, but it was hers, and often in use at weekends. She picked me up from the coffee shop next to George's, the University bookstore on the hill.
"I've got some news for you Peter" she said as we drove home. "Your dad and I are moving: I am going back to teaching and your dad is going to work for the Air Ministry in their depot down in Dorset. It's a great job for him with a good salary but most of all a civil service pension. As you know, the garage was just about making ends meet but there was no pension, and no teaching for me. Selling the garage will give us a pension start and the next twenty years will set us up nicely. You are just about done and Sandra is engaged to Bob. She has a good job as a Speech Therapist with the schools. We will have to find you a flat for your last year, or maybe you can share with Sandra and Bob."
"That's great Mum" I replied, as enthusiastically as I could.
But thinking about this added another complication. Much as I loved my sister, and got on well with her husband-to-be, I didn't relish the idea of living with them and the explaining I might have to do.
It was mid-week when I got mail from Em.
"Will I see you on Friday?" she asked.
I mailed back: "I will try my best but I won't be early."
"Message me when you are on your way. I will be in my bedroom. Look at the enclosed jpegs" Em replied. I downloaded them and was immediately aroused. I determined to be there early.
The rest of the week went quite quickly. I was writing a paper with Dr McKenzie on my first two years' research: a methods paper on negative selection of mutants. I was planning my last experiments, about two months of work, then the thesis writing. But it was hard to concentrate. On Thursday I asked if a car would be free for the weekend; Mum said I could use hers as she and Dad were off to Dorset for the weekend. One problem solved.
Friday afternoon I caught the bus home: Mum and Dad had gone already. I made some supper then messaged Em and was on my way by 6. At quarter to seven I used the den off the stables to freshen up, then went in The Manor by the kitchen: all was quiet, very quiet. Shoes off. Along the hall, up the stairs and along the bedroom corridor.
I tapped on the door and entered.
Em was sat by the window in her dressing gown, looking out over the kitchen garden. She looked absolutely gorgeous with light makeup and eyeshadow but a generous layer of coral lipstick: I must have told her my favourite colour. She smiled.
"Hello Peter" she said in a low voice "I thought I would like to try something different if you don't mind. I think we know each other well enough now."
I smiled back.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, knowing full well that I would agree to almost anything.
"Well, I think I would like to try to seduce you" she replied. "Did you see the photos I sent? Would you mind if we tried reversing our roles?"
"I would like that" I breathed heavily.
"Now I am not as experienced as you, but if you take off your clothes and get on the bed I will see what I can do for you" came the reply.
