“I’ve got a room,” Jack said, barely able to believe his luck, “just along here.”
The two headed off with Jack’s thoughts a long way from political activism.
An hour later, Daisy was sitting naked astride Jack’s belly. His cock was stiff inside her. For Jack it was a rare experience. He could barely remember the last time a woman had let his cock be part of sexual play, much less allow herself to be penetrated. Remembering past pleasures wasn’t really his focus at that moment though. The two were breathing deeply in unison as he approached a climax. Daisy grinned down at him. “So,” she said, slowing down the progress they were making towards orgasm, “does having a woman on top make you even more determined to take political action against New Order or are you deciding you quite like it.”
“Ah — aah. Sex is one thing, politics is something else.”
“You think?” Daisy bent forward teasing his nipples with her teeth, inducing a stretch from Jack that pushed his hips up and against her. “Isn’t this what Lenin considered ‘momentary interests’? Aren’t we submerging our struggle for freedom in the pleasures of the now? Or is Gerry’s vision as free from action as as Spence’s?” Another nibble brought another stretch and push from Jack.
“I’m doing things. Trouble making, Gerry calls it. Mainly it’s spray painting — Resist, Reject, Reverse, graffiti, CMRE logo’s, ECR graffiti. How about you?”
“Nothing so exciting. I’ve been stuck on a computer trying to work out a map of all the MCF stations in east London. I guess knowing where the opposition are makes sense. What’s ECR? Gerry hadn’t mentioned that to me.”
“It’s his two fingers up at New Order, I think. It stands for End Cunt Rule. Though from where I am right now, that sounds a very bad idea. The last thing I want is for you to take your cunt away.”
“Oh, hah hah!” Daisy giggled and renewed her biting. “If you think this is being ruled by my cunt you’ve got a whole lot of surprises coming.”
“That sounds like something I might enjoy.”
Chapter 14: Flight AL103
Norm Hailman was feeling nervous. He seemed to spend a lot of time feeling nervous these days. He was getting good at it, he thought. Sitting in a car outside the terminal at Dublin Airport, he was having a final chat with Danny Monahan.
“You’ll be fine. Easier than the job last week. You know the ground back in the UK.”
Norm wasn’t looking forward to the trip. In his bag was a packet of 500 forged male ident cards, destined for a contact in London. In his jacket was an Irish passport and flight tickets in the name of Terence O’Neil. In his hand was a cigarette he was dragging on to finish before heading in to the terminal.
“Yeah, well, let’s hope so. I didn’t pay all that cash to leave the UK in order to go straight back there.”
“Ah, it’s only two days. You’ll have no bother.”
‘Bother’ thought Norm. Was that a word for what had happened last week? They’d been running porno mags across the border near Crossmaglen. Their bit had gone OK and they had dropped off the crates but shortly after they’d got back over the border they’d seen flashing blue lights and heard sirens behind them. Word was an MCF patrol had intercepted the group coming to pick up the stuff. There had been headlines in the Ulster papers a few days later, “Seditious Filth Pedlars From The South”, “MCF Foils Porn Pirates” and “Smuggled Smut Undermines Respect Agenda”. Norm thought that was a bit strong. They were just trying to let a few men have a bit of a better time than they were getting.
Danny had been philosophical about it. “Most of the lads got clear, I hear,” he said. “They’re worried someone on their side may have been a bit careless but they’ll take another shipment as soon as we can get it to them. All that publicity will have helped fuel demand. I reckon the price just went up a bit.”
It was going to feel strange being back in London after eighteen months. A lot had happened in the time in between. No least was that someone he knew had tried to blow up the Prime Minister and members of her cabinet in Fordswell. For a short time, Norm had wondered if the New Order Government might collapse but it had quickly become obvious that the attempt had failed and it had only tightened the grip of the party. Although David Anders had been convicted alongside three co-conspirators, the press regularly carried theories of wider conspiracies. Norm hadn’t mentioned to Danny that he had known David, it would only have complicated things, he felt. As far as the bombing went, there had never been any suggestion that the police might be looking for him in relation to that but he still worried that he might be on some sort of watch list for that as well as for absconding.
For Norm the worst part of the trip was the Customs and Immigration desk at London’s Gatwick airport. His passport seemed to work OK but he could almost hear himself sweating as he walked through the “Nothing to Declare” customs channel. He checked the signs in the arrival hall, “Information for New Arrivals — Advice For Men Travelling Alone”. He didn’t want to get caught out by any change in the regulations since he’d last been here and besides breezing past the signs might have attracted attention. Nothing much seemed to have changed. He’d just have to be careful to stick to streets where men were allowed, stay off woman-only buses and trains and make sure he was indoors before the time of the male curfew. An ominous note at the bottom of the sign said, “Male Control Regulations have been in force in the UK for two years now. Police officers expect visitors to be aware of and comply with these regulations.” Waving his Irish passport wouldn’t get him out of trouble with the MCF if he put a foot wrong. In a dispenser beside the sign were pamphlets providing guidance for visitors. He picked up a copy.
He wasn’t expecting to be met at the airport. He had a hotel in Chelsea to head for. He walked through the corridor towards the railway station. There were a few MCF officers around but they seemed more interested in people planning to leave than in anyone arriving, even a man on his own.
It was a long walk along the platform towards the rear of the train where the carriages for unaccompanied males pulled up. The rest of the train had plenty of seats but when he’d got to the male carriages they were all full. He’d have to stand all the way to London but it wasn’t a long journey and he had been sitting down all the way from Dublin.
He left the ticket barrier and headed towards a coffee stand. It was just before nine o’clock in the morning, most of the buses would be woman-only services for the next hour. It was a toss up as to whether it was worth waiting for a bus or walking to the hotel. Her decided to wait. It was something he had done plenty of times before, sitting on Victoria station drinking scalding coffee out of a paper cup, but this time he was watching for anyone that seemed to be watching him. “If you get nervous, read your paper,” Danny had told him. Suspicious people don’t sit around reading newspapers. He had a copy of the morning’s Irish Times. Skimming through it while he drank his coffee did, indeed seem to help his nerves. He didn’t even flinch when a smartly dressed business woman practically pushed him off his stool, reaching around him for a coffee.