RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog

Chapter 31:- Runaway Lovers

"Strip off and load yourself on the Super Bertha. You'll find the latest version doesn't need a crew of three to operate it, even with tits the size of yours."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow as Mrs Danby scuttled away on some other urgent business, then she studied the modified Super Bertha, puzzling out how it worked. It proved to be quite intuitive. Within a couple of minutes she was naked apart from her panties, her breasts half supported on the sloping platforms. Mrs Danby returned at that moment.

"Fine. Much improved design. To wind the platforms up to the measuring position, you just use this switch..." Somewhere a small motor whirred, and the platforms hoisted themselves to the horizontal, bearing Charlotte's prides and joys with them. The motor groaned in protest as the platform reached the limit of its elevation, but it came safely to a halt and switched itself off.

"Does it measure me automatically as well?"

"Not yet, dear. It has to learn to walk before it can run. Besides, this is the bit I enjoy!" She began her practised movements with the tape measure, whistling tunelessly under her breath. "What were you before?"

"God knows. You're supposed to know that."

"Oh, I do! I just can't believe any woman could be so unconcerned about her bust measurement."

"Oh, you know how it is. A foot or so either way makes no difference to Charlotte fforbes-Davenport!"

"A foot? How about thirteen inches?"

Charlotte groaned. "Is that what it is? No bloody wonder I couldn't breathe. Go on, then, do your worst."

"One hundred and eighty-eight. Join the race to Level Four!"

"Do what, woman?"

"Level Four. When your bust measurement is equal to three times your height. I doubt if it will happen. You'd need to have a two-hundred and twenty-five inch bust for that."

"You're blathering, Mrs Danby. Breasts are going to your head. What's this race, anyway?"

"You're still comfortably in the lead. But young Donna and Lucy are coming up fast on the outside!"

"Donna? And Lucy? How big are they now?"

"Donna's latest was a hundred and six. Lucy, I don't know. I haven't seen her for a week! It's okay, though, they're both still not even Level Three girls. Not yet, anyway. As for our Kay, we'll have to wait and see. You know she's pregnant?"

"I'd heard. Well, if she wants a pair like mine, she can have these. Can I get down off this bloody machine now?"

"Of course! I thought you were enjoying it, taking the weight off your feet."

"Where have you been?" Donna stared at Lucy as they walked down the drive and up to the front door. Something about Lucy looked familiar. "Whose is that bra?"

"This one?" Lucy unslung the bra from around her neck. "Erm. Yours. I had to take it off. It shrank."

"It shrank! And that shirt?"

"Yours. Do you like it?" Lucy twirled carefully, checking that her single twenty was still tucked in her cleavage.

"I liked it when I bought it. What about those shorts?"

"Yours. Sorry, Don!"

"You ought to be. Do they look like that on me?"

"No, your bum's smaller than mine."

"I wish you'd asked, Luce. I liked those shorts."

"They'll still fit you. Maybe the zip will need stitching up a bit, that's all." Lucy opened the front door and went in, Donna shaking her head in amazement as the light silhouetted the diminutive girl walking through into the kitchen. Straight to the fridge, where Lucy immediately fell to her knees in supplication. She emerged with the remains of the pie she had attacked earlier.

Laura came in from the back garden. "Hi, you two." She looked at Lucy aghast as the pie disappeared in two bites. "Have some pie, Lucy. Another bra?"

Lucy nodded. This one shrank. It fitted this morning, but it got wet when the wash... I mean it got wet."

"I see." Laura took a bowl of salad from the fridge: mysteriously it had survived Lucy's foragings. "Lucy's left you some salad, Don."

"Oh, good. That will do nicely." Donna took her ex-bra from Lucy's neck and regarded it sadly. "I always liked this one. Nice colour." She glanced at the label and looked at Lucy with horror. This is too small for you?"

"Yeah. I told you. It shrank."

"This didn't shrink. You got bigger. You know how big this is?"

"Dunno," Lucy said airily. "About seventy?"

"Seventy-five! And it's too small for you!"

"Gosh!"

Laura looked concerned. "Are you sure, Don? That would mean Lucy's boobs are a whole foot bigger than they were a week ago."

Lucy was plundering the fridge again. She brought out the cream cake. Laura firmly put it back.

"Enough! This eating has got to stop. We're going to the doctor's in the morning. Something about you isn't right."

Lucy belched and looked like a starving puppy. "Oh, Mrs Fielding. I've had nothing to eat all day."

"It's for you." Mrs Danby handed over the phone.

"Daddy? It's Daddy," Charlotte said to Mrs Danby. "What's up? Maxwell? No. He's with you. Of course I'm sure I haven't got him. I'm at Mrs Danby's. He couldn't bring me because he was taking you into town. Not until later, no." She shrugged. "Daddy's lost Maxwell somewhere. No, I was talking to Mrs D. Have you called home? Mrs Grummit? But where's Jacqui? She should be looking after them. No, no. No. No. Yes. Probably. No. Okay." She put the phone down. "He says Jacqui's missing as well. And the Merc."

"They've eloped, love. Try the old blacksmith's shop at Gretna Green!"

"Funn-eee. It's not like Maxwell. He's so reliable. He was going to come and collect me after this. And Jacqui was supposed to be looking after the twins, but she's left them with Mrs Grummit. Can I borrow your phone again?"

"Feel free. It's an emergency when your chauffeur elopes with your nanny, after all!"

Charlotte's hand shook as she put the phone down.

"They've run away together!"

"I told you...!" Mrs Danby stopped. Charlotte was under some stress. "Are you sure?"

"Mrs Grummit said Maxwell took the Merc out with Daddy. While he was out, she saw Jacqui taking some luggage to the stables. An overnight bag and a suitcase. Then she said the next she saw of Jacqui was when she brought the babies into the kitchen and told her they'd been fed and changed."

"Does she usually do that in the afternoon?"

"No, she keeps them in the bedroom while she does the ironing or reads her book. She's learning English, although you'd never really notice. Anyway, Mrs Grummit said Jacqui had had a shower!"

"You mean her hair was still wet? So what?"

"No. Jacqui never has a shower. She's French. I have to drag her into the bathroom, kicking and screaming. Okay, I exaggerate, but Jacqui isn't exactly obsessed with bodily hygiene, is she? Then she went out. And twenty minutes later, the twins woke up and starting yelling. Mrs Grummit looked everywhere for Jacqui, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen."

The phone rang again.

"It will be for you," said Mrs Danby.

"Daddy? No. Mrs Grummit said he didn't come home. And Jacqui's disappeared, too. I think they've run away. Together. What do you think for? Why do couples ... why do people usually run away? I don't know if they've got the bloody Mercedes. I've got more things to worry about than bloody Mercedeses. My nanny's run off and left me with a pair of grotty twins, and I've got a hundred and eighty-eight inch bust and no bloody chauffeur, and I'm pregnant again, and ... oh, shit!"

She listened for perhaps twenty seconds.

"Of course I don't know how much the bloody Mercedes cost. What about my nanny? Daddy? Daddy? I said, I'm pregnant again. Yes, a baby. Daddy! Okay, I'll call them. See you later."

"What was all that about?"

"He wants me to call the police and report the Mercedes stolen."

"It makes sense. They find the car, they find Maxwell and Jacqui. What did he say when you told him you were preggers?"

"He said I'd better advertise for another nanny. A nice local girl!"

"What a lovely Daddy you've got, Charlotte."

"But my ... Maxwell's gone. And Jacqui. Why? What did I do wrong?" Her face crumpled suddenly. Until now she had been angry. Furious. She just let go, broke down. She wasn't howling, crying out loud with an attention-seeking bellow. Charlotte was an unhappy little girl who couldn't understand why her world had just been snatched away from her. She curled up in Mrs Danby's overstuffed armchair, stark naked apart from her pants, and just sobbed her heart out.

Mrs Danby put the kettle on. There would be time for cuddles later. Meanwhile, Charlotte needed to get something out of her poor overloaded system.

"Mags? It's me. I'm on the phone in the drawing room." Mrs Danby had a drawing room. "Charlotte's crying her eyes out in the workroom. Are you far away, love? The poor kid needs you. You'll never believe it. Maxwell and Jacqui have run away. Of course they're together. God knows. They could have gone anywhere. They've got the car. Look, she's in no state. Before you come over, could you report the Mercedes missing? Do you know the number? Oh, is it really? How much did that cost? I was wondering if I could get BRA99Y for my van. You will? Thanks! See you soon. Bye!"

The kettle boiled. Mrs Danby made two big mugs of tea.

Maxwell brought two large styrofoam cups of coffee from the buffet car and put them on the table. The countryside whizzed past outside as they careered north. Jacqui's eyes were full of stars. She sipped her coffee.

"Yeucchhh!" she offered her opinion.

"Not as good as Mrs Grummit's."

"Are we nearly there yet?"

"No, it's a long way. It will be dark long before we get there. It's all right. The hotel knows we're coming. Mr and Mrs Shorthouse."

"Oooh, Maxwell!"

Their fingers entwined on the laminate-topped table.

"You tired?"

"Not very."

"You could sleep if you want. Roll my jacket up and use it as a pillow."

"I'd rather not sleep. I would rather..." She whispered hot words in his ear.

"What, now?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"But we can't do it here."

"Of course not, silly. We go to the toilet first!"

"But I don't want to go. I went at Euston."

"You don't want me?"

"Of course!" Maxwell looked around the carriage. People were starting to look at them. Jacqui was practically crawling into his lap. He grinned sickeningly around at them and they returned to the scenery.

"Come on, then!"

"Now?"

"Yes." Jacqui clambered off his lap and dragged him into the central aisle, towing him away to the toilet. "Shit!" she exclaimed loudly, bringing a barrage of disapproving glares.

The door opened and a woman came out. She exchanged excuse me's and sorries with Maxwell, while they both averted their gazes. Jacqui immediately grabbed Maxwell and bundled him inside, to the woman's astonishment.

"We can't. Not like this."

Jacqui's mouth cut his protests short. She leaned against the door, slid the lock and immediately began to undress.

"Jacqui, no! Keep your clothes on."

"Why? We make love? You love my body? My nipples?" She showed him her nipples. "My little tummy?" She showed him her little tummy. "My furry snatch? Come 'ere."

Maxwell got up from the toilet seat and went to her. The train swayed and he lost his balance, on to his hands and knees like a dog, making intimate contact with Jacqui's furry snatch of recent mention. She smelled different, somehow. Ah, that was it. Clean. His tongue came out and probed, as Jacqui spread her wonderful legs further apart so her sex descended on to Maxwell's avid mouth. She was wet, ready for him. His tongue sought and found the core of her sex, flirted with her nubbin, took it between his lips...

"Ticket please!" A fist thumped on the door.

"Ou, shit! Make 'im go away."

"I can't. The tickets are in my coat, back at the seat."

"Tell 'im, then."

"Ticket, please."

"Erm. Hello?"

"Why you say 'ello?"

"Hello?"

"You in there?"

"Yeah," Maxwell established communications. "We left our tickets at our seats. Down the aisle on the right."

"We...?"

"My wife and I. Fiancée."

"You're both in there?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"Oh, the usual."

"Together?"

"She's French."

"Well why didn't you say so before. I'll wait three minutes."

Maxwell groaned.

"Why did you tell 'im that?"

"I had to tell him something. But why does he think that just because you're French it will only take me three minutes? We might as well leave now. I'll never be able to do it with him listening out there."

"Why not?" Jacqui shrugged. "I make love to you, not to 'im. Come, lover!" She plastered her mind-boggling hairiness across his face, blocking out the light. "Ou, oui! Yes, yes, oh, merde!" Jacqui was learning to come bilingually.

"Time's up!" The ticket collector banged on the door again.

"It's no good. You stay here. I'll go and get the tickets. Don't open the door until I come back. I'll knock three times, then twice, then once."

Jacqui snorted in derision but let him go.

"Sorry about that." Maxwell jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She's having a bit of trouble. I'll get the tickets." He took out his hankie and wiped the worst of the Jacqui-juice from his nose and eyebrows. The ticket collector followed him with an expression of acute distaste to the seat. "Here you are. Gretna Junction, two singles."

The official inspected the tickets minutely, hoping for a discrepancy but finding them innocent. He produced his punch and cut a notch out of the side of each one. Then he sniffed. "You'd better be getting back to her then," he sniggered. Maxwell felt the eyes of the travelling public on him as the collector moved on. "Have a nice journey!"

People were actually standing up to watch as Maxwell hammered on the door three times, then twice, then once.

"Oo is it?"

"It's me."

"Ow do I know?"

"It's Shorthouse, you daft bitch. Let me in!"

"Not if you call me names. I stay 'ere on my own."

"You can't. People want to use it. They'll be queueing up for their turn." He looked up. To his horror, two people were already standing stoically in line, studiously ignoring the hissed conversation.

"Tell me you love me," came the disembodied French voice.

"What?"

"You call me a bitch. Tell me you are sorry, and you love me. Then I might let you in."

Maxwell bent low and whispered fiercely, "I love you!"

"I didn't 'ear you."

"I love you!"

"Tell me you're sorry!"

"Open the fucking door!"

To his surprise, the door opened and a slender hand yanked him inside. "Ou, I love it when you are so masterful!"

"They found the car."

Mrs Danby brought two mugs in and set one down on the bench. Charlotte uncurled herself, her face tear-stained and red-eyed. Great sobs sent ripples racing across the broad acres of her bust.

"The car? Not crashed?"

"At the railway station. Parked without a ticket. The ticket inspector remembers them walking in with their luggage and catching the train to Southampton. Looks like they're going to France. Does Jacqui have any family?"

"Yes. And a boyfriend. France? Maxwell wouldn't go to France. He hates bloody foreigners."

Mrs Danby stopped herself in time. "Have some tea, love. Maggie's coming over. She'll help you get things sorted out. She can run you home."

"Home?" Charlotte's face sagged again. "Not home! I couldn't go back there. It will be all empty."

"As you like, love. Maggie will listen to you. Now, do you want to put your clothes back on? I've got another customer coming, and it might be better if you were dressed."

"Dressed?" Charlotte looked at herself as if for the first time in years. "Oh, dressed. Is my bra ready?"

"Sorry. I've had to order another bale of lace. You can wear your old one. I've made a few cuts so it will fit more easily. Here you are. Sit yourself up. There, that's nice, isn't it? Lean forward. Woof! The weight of these things! All done. Stand up and shake them down into the cups, and I'll do the hooks up for you."

Charlotte unfolded her big warm body from the chair and allowed Mrs Danby to dress her. She had to stand on her box to reach.

"Mrs Danby?"

"Yes, love?"

"Will they come back to me?"

"If it's for the best, they will. Turn round." Charlotte obediently turned her back to Mrs Danby. "Sweet girl!" And standing on her box, she laid her head against Charlotte's surprised cheek.

end Chapter 31