A 101 Field Test

by Alex Greene writing as "Fiat Knox"

Copyright © Alex Greene. All rights reserved.

'Poisoned?'

Anita blew a stream of smoke into the air. 'Yes, Tom, poisoned,' she replied, looking at Julia.

'That's what I wanted to call you all over for,' Julia said, looking at the three neighbourly married couples in her living room.

Tom and Anita Carlisle from next door looked like each other, Tom having the same kind of short brunette hair, the same light tan and the same style in shell suits.

Serena and Jeff Sutton from across the road looked like a typical middle class couple. Jeff, in his square glasses, white shirt and powder blue jumper, brown slacks and shoes, looked every inch the computer nerd that he was. Serena was taller, slender, with long straight brunette hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a stylish yellow dress and matching shoes and handbag. Her car, parked in the drive across the road, was the same colour as her clothes and accessories.

Finally Harry and whatshername Travis from Number 15, just up the road were another middle class, not exactly well-to-do, couple. The wife had a square jawed, wide face, high cheekbones and a mane of blonde hair, whereas Harry was big boned, with dark skin, short black hair, stubble and sideburns.

'You did want to know what happened to the tree, Tom,' Julia added. 'Well Jane and Simon Thompson – your neighbours at Number 17,' she said, pointing to the Travises and the Suttons – poisoned that tree.'

'Bloody inconvenience,' Jeff muttered. 'Ruined my garden.'

'Ours, too,' Tom agreed. 'The crown of the tree destroyed my fence and landed in our ornamental pond. Killed off our koi.'

'I still have you all beat,' Julia said. 'For four weeks, now, I've had to take a taxi to work, and I still had to pay to get the wreckage of my old car off my own drive.'

'But we know all this,' said Mrs Travis – just as Julia remembered that her name was Catherine. She looked at Julia, lighting a cigarette from the ornate wooden box on the coffee table. 'Why are we all here?'

'Well, my insurance company at first weren't going to pay up,' Julia said. 'Said it was force majeure, what they call an Act of God. Trouble is, when the Council came back they said that the tree had indeed been poisoned by the Thompsons.'

'Why in God's name would they do such a stupid thing?'

'Oh, money,' Julia replied. 'The Thompsons were trying to get a better asking price from the sale of Number 17, but the Council weren't budging on the tree. It was healthy, and it was over 200 years old so there was a preservation order protecting it.'

'So ...' Tom asked, looking at Anita.

'So they went out some night, and put poison in the tree,' Anita replied. 'You know; maybe they drilled a hole into it and poured, what, bleach?' She looked at Julia.

'Industrial solvent, according to the Council,' Julia replied. 'Killed the tree from the inside out. And then it fell over and ...' She mimed the tree's fall.

'And what does that mean for our claims?' Catherine asked. Julia grinned.

'We can go ahead and sue the Thompsons after all,' Julia replied. 'Also, since the cause of the damage is officially not force majeure but accidental destruction indirectly inflicted by sabotage, our insurance policies can pay up for all the damages.'

The neighbours looked at each other, joy registering in their faces.

'My friend in the Council is willing to submit a report to each of your insurance companies,' Julia said, taking in the smiles on the faces of her neighbours. 'So you can get cash from your insurance and you can still sue the Thompsons. So are the Council, for destruction of their property - the tree. But do you want to know the best part?'

'What could be better than this?' Harry asked.

'When the tree fell, its roots came away with it,' Julia said. 'That weakened the foundations of the Thompson's house.'

Serena and Anita chuckled as they cottoned on to what Julia was saying. A moment later, as they caught on, the rest joined in.

'The Thompsons' house has been condemned as structurally unsound,' Julia concluded. 'It's now worthless. And their insurance company won't cover the loss, either.'

Catherine breathed out one last cloud of fragrant smoke and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, followed by Anita. 'Well, that sounds like cause for a celebration,' she said.

'It has been a long four weeks since the tree fell,' Julia concurred. 'I brought along a couple of bottles of bubbly for our celebration. I think they're still in the car. Hang on. I'll get the keys.' She bent down to open a large black leather handbag at her feet. The old fashioned handbag had a gold plated clasp, and almost looked like a Doctor's bag.

'Oh. They're not in here,' Julia said. As she reached into the bag, she found what she was really looking for: the little wheel on the valve on the small silver gas cylinder inside the bag. Fixed to the nozzle was a length of transparent tubing, its end barely visible poking out of one side of the bag.

Julia turned the wheel, and a thin streamer of gas began to leak invisibly and inaudibly from the bag and into the room.

Julia closed the bag and stood up, smiling. 'Won't be a second,' she said. 'I'll see what's keeping Anna with the food in the kitchen, too.'

Quietly, she made her way out of the room and shut the door behind her, sealing the neighbours into a room filling slowly with the colourless, odourless gas.

In the kitchen, Anna was waiting for Julia, a latex gas mask held out for Julia to take. Anna herself was wearing a gas mask already. Julia slipped the mask on over her head.

'They love the smokes,' she said, before settling the mask over her face. Anna chuckled, the laugh muffled by her mask.

Now all they had to do was wait. Wait, and play the DVD.

Catherine took out an old fashioned silver cigarette case which her Mum had left to her. Opening the ornate wooden box, she began taking some of the cigarettes from inside it and slipping them into her case, saying 'I'm having some of these.'

'Where'd she say she gets them from?' asked Tom, helping himself.

Closing the box and her case, Catherine lit one up and sat back. 'Turkey, I think,' she said. 'She told me last time there's plenty more where they came from. She gets them in from someone at work, she says.'

Tina coughed, swallowing a yawn. 'Cool.' Catherine elbowed Harry, who looked half asleep. Harry jolted awake with a snort, and looked about the room feeling slightly embarrassed.

A sudden burst of upbeat music startled them; the ident jingle of a TV show. 'Hey,' Harry said, startled, 'the TV's come on.'

'Who turned it on?' Catherine asked. Serena yawned and shrugged. Everyone looked at the large wall-mounted flat plasma screen.

'It's that show, whatsitsname, Early Bird,' Tom said. 'You watch the show, don't you, Nita?'

'Yeah,' Anita said, as the smiling faces of Early Bird's presenters, Paul Scholey and Honey Weatherby, appeared on the screen, talking. 'Turn it up. I want to know what they're talking about.'

'- and as you are well aware, one of this country's most famous self-help gurus is, of course, the neurochemist Doctor Thomas Sharpton.' Paul was the quintessential TV show presenter; slick, professional, with a square, earnest, clean shaven face and short silver hair.

Beside him, Honey Weatherby was a pretty honey blonde with a round, wholesome-looking "girl next door" face, a wide, smiling mouth and high cheekbones. Honey wore a white blouse of a thin fabric, through which her arms and torso could faintly be seen. Honey's white bra was also faintly visible through the material.

'And we have him here on our programme,' Honey was saying.

The camera cut to Doctor Sharpton; a man with heavy glasses and a serious expression on his long face. He sat in one of the studio's comfy chairs, facing Paul and Honey across the studio.

'It's lovely to have you on the show, Doctor,' Paul said.

Dr Sharpton smiled. 'It's great to be here on the show, Paul, Honey,' he replied.

'Now earlier in the programme, we had Doctor Jane Seavers from LA talking about her Seavers self-help technique.'

'And very interesting it was, too, and her technique does have some validity,' Dr Sharpton replied, 'but I've got to admit that I've been in this business a bit longer than she has. Fifteen years longer, to be exact.'

'So you think her technique has some merits?'

'Some,' Dr Sharpton replied, 'but the Sharpton Method is still more versatile and can be applied to a much wider range of problems, such as coping with house moves and the stresses of divorce – not just quitting smoking or controlling your eating.'

'Can you show us how it's done?' Paul asked.

'I'll start with the basics,' Dr Sharpton said.

'Oh, and those of you in the audience can join in as well,' Honey added, looking at the camera.

'This looks interesting,' Harry said. His wife tapped his arm to silence him. The couples sat straight, looking at the screen.

'It actually begins with you gathering your thoughts. Try to relax, and start taking deep, easy breaths,' Dr Sharpton said.

On the screen, the heads and shoulders of Paul and Honey got up from their comfy sofa and stood facing the audience, side by side. Both of them began breathing deeply and slowly, their breaths coming together and synchronising.

'Breathe in deeply ...' Dr Sharpton said. 'Then breathe out again, slowly.' On screen, Paul and Honey breathed out as instructed, smiling.

'And continue,' Dr Sharpton said off screen. 'Breathing in ... and out ... in ... and out again.'

In the living room, the couples were now all watching the screen, silently breathing in and out in time with the couple on the screen and the instructions of Doctor Sharpton.

As Dr Sharpton continued on the screen, the gas being released from the bag on the floor continued to fill the room all around the couples, slowly having an increasing effect on them all.

On the screen, Honey began to yawn and blink on cue. Paul blinked as well, nodding and jerking his head.

In the room, the couples were being affected by the gas, and by the apparent sleepy behaviour of the screen presenters. Anita was yawning openly; Catherine'e eyes were rolling into her head. Jerking her head, she shook herself, leaning forwards to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray before she dropped off with a lit cigarette in her hand.

'Oh,' she said, wondering why her body was so heavy and clumsy. Beside her, Harry was slumping in the chair, yawning. Anita's head was slowly sinking forwards; Tom was also succumbing, his head lolling to one side, his eyelids fluttering.

Dizzy and sleepy, Catherine slumped to one knee, trying to keep her eyes open and failing, her head sinking to the coffee table.

The Suttons, closest to the bag with the gas cylinder, slowly sank sideways on the sofa, Serena's head coming to rest on her husband's shoulder.

And on the screen, Honey and Paul continued to breathe gently in and out, Dr Sharpton's voice having lapsed into silence.

Anna and Julia came in, masked and naked. Julia opened the bag and shut off the gas flow. Anna took out a video camera. Standing on either side of the screen, facing the couples, Anna turned the video camera on the neighbours.

'Now,' came Dr Sharpton's voice again, 'everyone watching the programme now just open your eyes. Open your eyes. That's it. You're not asleep; only in a trance. Listen to what I say. Whatever you see in the room is perfectly and completely normal, and everything you do is also normal.'

The couples stirred, opening their eyes. Catherine got up slowly from the coffee table, blinking, elbowing Harry.

'Come on,' she hissed, 'get up.'

'I must have ... must have dozed off,' mumbled Harry sleepily as he got to his feet. He looked down at his uncomfortable erection, and then around him. The others were all standing up.

Harry knew that he could see two naked women wearing gas masks, standing on either side of the TV, and that they looked like his host Julia and her friend. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

For a moment he thought that he ought to say something about this. But a quick glance around at his neighbours convinced him that he should keep quiet about this. Nobody else seemed to be making a fuss about the naked women, so he decided to keep quiet about it. Let somebody else do the worrying.

'Now I want you to look at the screen,' said Dr Sharpton's voice. 'Just follow the lead of the people you see on the screen.' The screen cut to Paul Scholey and Honey Weatherby, who were now slowly removing their clothes.

Mesmerised in more ways than one, Tom watched the screen, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy and his erection building. Anita touched the bulge in his trousers. Tom looked at her.

'I didn't know she turned you on,' she whispered.

'I just ... just always had this fantasy about Honey Weatherby stripping naked on the telly,' Tom replied.

'You never told me,' Anita said, stroking Tom's bulge.

As Paul proceeded to undo his shirt on screen, and Honey continued to unbutton her white blouse beside him, the camera slowly pulled back to reveal their whole upper bodies, as far as the waist.

The couples in Julia's living room followed suit. Anita and Catherine were the first to start removing their clothes, revealing their trim figures. Next were Tom and Jeff, followed by Harry and lastly Serena, who simply slipped her dress down her body, revealing her bra and panties and her slim body.

'By now,' said Paul, 'you should have taken off your tops, like me and Honey here.' Paul was bare chested; Honey was indeed topless. Both stood squarely in front of the cameras. Honey's breasts were magnificent, and her stomach flat and trim. Paul's clean, hairless chest spoke of many months of working out.

Of the women, Catherine's tits were large, soft and all natural, compared to Anita's firm peaks. Serena's were the smallest pair, but Serena's nipples were pierced. Catherine and Serena had tattoos. Catherine's was a cherub on her back, just on the shoulder; Serena's tattoo, on her right arm, was a rose.

'Now we can't be there in person to meet all of you lovely people,' Paul continued, 'but I'm sure you will be feeling grateful at Dr Sharpton for helping you to relax.' He began tugging at his trousers and unzipping. Beside him, Honey began opening her slacks, sliding them down and revealing plain white panties. Honey's panties had a tell tale wet patch.

Now wearing only their underwear, Paul and Honey stood facing the camera. Paul's erection was straining to burst free of his underwear. Honey's nipples were hard, and both their faces were flushed and red, with slightly confused expressions as if they could not quite work out why they were doing what they were doing, in the Early Bird TV studios at that, but unable to stop either smiling or stripping.

'This is making you want to rub your sausage, isn't it?' Catherine said to Harry, her voice gentle yet earnest and betraying her sexual arousal. Harry, blushing, nodded. Catherine stroked Harry's erect cock through his taut underpants, and Harry's breath shuddered, his face red and flustered.

'Good job I let you talk me into wearing clean undies,' Jeff muttered to Serena. Serena elbowed him in the ribs, and continued to stare at the couple on the screen, her heartbeat racing, her breath rapid.

Honey stepped forwards. 'And now we're ready to take the next step. Aren't we?'

The couples nodded in agreement.

The cameras panned back, revealing Honey as she bent forwards, pulling down her panties. When she stood straight again and stepped out of her knickers, she finally stood naked on the screen, the hairs of her bush glistening with little beads of moisture. A chorus of moans of arousal filled the room. Now five women stood naked in Julia's living room.

'And now, guys, it's your turn,' said Paul, slipping his pants down and stepping out of them, his erection standing stiff and proud, as were the penises of the three men in the room.

Now Honey turned to look at Paul. 'Do what I do, girls,' she said, stepping close enough to Paul to run two fingertips up and down the length of Paul's cock.

'Like this,' she said, looking into Paul's eyes, catching the strain on his face. 'Do you like this, Paul?' she asked Paul, who nodded vigorously.

'Are – are we st- still ro- rolling here?' Paul said, his words a squeak, perplexity vying with lust on his red face.

In the living room, Serena, Anita and Catherine were pleasuring their bewildered husbands with deft strokes of their polished nails the length of their fleshy, red shafts, smiling as they looked into the eyes of their men.

'And now,' whispered Honey, slowly sinking to her knees, 'you know what to do next to your men, don't you?' Turning so her mouth was on a level with the tip of Paul's cock, Honey Weatherby gently blew on the rim of his glans while running a delicate fingernail about the tip, eliciting a strained moan from Paul – and from the three men whom the women in the living room were eagerly processing.

'Start by licking,' Honey said, kissing and licking Paul's cock, 'and proceed to sucking when it's nice ... and ... wet.'

Julia glanced across to Anna, who continued taping the three women kneeling and fellating their husbands. Gasps and moans of pleasure from the men were mingled with slurping, sucking sounds from their partners. Catherine was humming, her lips wrapped around Harry's thick penis.

There was a slurping sound. 'That's enough for now,' Honey said on the screen. The women looked around and saw that Honey, holding Paul's penis in her hand, was now standing up.

'Let's do this next bit to some music,' Honey said, gesturing. A low, thrumming African drum rhythm began, and Honey and Paul, facing one another, began to dance together.

Julia turned up the volume, filling the room with the beat. The couples began to dance together, the women moving their hips close to their partners' dicks, toying with their nipples and pussies as they emulated Honey on the screen.

'Boys,' Paul said, 'kneel.' Jeff, Harry and Tom now knelt, as Anita, Catherine and Serena continued to dance over them, their vaginas close to the men's mouths.

'Men,' Honey said, 'pleasure your women.'

As the camera panned down to see Paul delivering cunnilingus to the on–screen Honey Weatherby, Jeff, Harry and Tom climbed onto their hands and knees and went down on their prone women.

A few minutes later, on-screen Paul climbed onto Honey and slid his penis deep into her. Harry and Catherine were the first couple to turn cunnilingus into full penetration; Catherine's legs wrapped instinctively about Harry as he began to thrust deeply into her, grunting in time with her heavy panting.

Anita turned the tables on Tom, rolling over so that she was on top, straddling him and impaling herself on him. Jeff also lay on his back as Serena climbed onto him, this time in the reverse cowgirl position; she began to move her hips up and down slowly, as she faced Anna's video camera.

As Anna taped, and Julia watched, the couples' breathing deepened, became more rapid as they approached climax. On screen, Honey had adopted the same reverse cowgirl position as Serena, straddling Paul, facing away from him, her body sliding up and down his cock, her breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of her hips.

Jeff and Serena were the first to come, Jeff grunting and panting as Serena suddenly slumped and relaxed. Catherine was next, groaning and shuddering as Harry came inside her a moment later. Last to come in the room were Tom and Anita.

'Oh, my God,' whispered Honey as she came on screen. 'I just felt Paul fill me.'

Julia crossed the room, kneeling and opening the bag which held the cylinder of the experimental gas. From the bag, she took out a mobile phone, which she gave to Anna, and an aerosol spray bearing the stencilled word SOMNOZINE. She began to spray this into the room, over the couples.