Because of consuming more than a social amount of wine, Patty was experiencing a completely new sensation. Her head felt as though nothing inside was anchored securely; her vision changed from clear to blurry and back again, and her limbs left her with the impression that they had changed into some form of jelly. Gavin watched her warily from his side of the rear seat as she flopped toward him and then away, with each swerve of the car.

Susan was prattling away to Nigel, who was clinging to the passenger strap in what appeared to be, mortal fear; neither of them paying any attention to the rear seat. Patty lurched sideways again, giggling and grasping at Gavin for support. She ran her fingers through his hair, cooing unintelligible nothings in his ear and then suddenly flopped head first into his lap, unconscious.

"Susan!" He called frantically, trying to shove Patty off. "Susan! Stop the car!"

"We're almost there." She answered, glancing in the mirror and nearly losing control over the antics in the back of the car. She braked hard and wheeled to the curb, sending Patty slithering down onto the floor into a tangle.

"She's passed out!" Gavin cried, noticing the lipstick smear on his slacks. "Oh God!"

Nigel and Susan jumped out and opened both back doors, gawking at the pair with mixed reactions.

"I think she had too much to drink and she passed out." Patty's head tipped back over the sill, a goofy smile painted across her face.

"I think we'd best get her home," Nigel said, grabbing her under the arms. "Give me a hand Miss Preston, we'll get her out of the car."

"She lives just across the street, I'll run and get Peter." Susan said.

Gavin bent awkwardly in the seat, taking hold of Patty's hips, while Nigel tugged away unceremoniously, dragging them both from the car onto the verge.

"Miss McCorkidale, Patty? Are you all right?" She responded with a dizzy whoop, and flung her arms about Gavin's neck.

"Oooh-h-h... I feel so- so... floaty." Gavin braced himself to take her full weight as she sagged against him. "Oh hi, Galleria! " She grinned blearily.

"Could you help me, please?" Gavin pleaded. Nigel gathered himself and complied, taking one arm while Gavin took the other, and began guiding her across the street.

Susan and Peter met them on the front lawn, Peter looking pale and shaken. Behind them, in the doorway, stood Felicity, one hand to her mouth, the other braced against the frame.

"She's fine, old man," Nigel said, "just a little tipsy."

Peter took over from Gavin and hesitated, looking back to the house. "Aah, Susan, would you ask uh, Mrs. Proctor, to run the bath. Patty's only ever done this once before, and a good soaking seems to work better than anything."

Gavin stood gaping up at his wife. What the hell was she doing at Peter's? He could see the panic on her face, and her relief when charged with something to do—something that would allow her to escape his accusing stare.

"You might as well come in, Gal, since Felicity is here anyway." Susan called, holding the door for Nigel and Peter.

After getting Patty to the bedroom, Nigel retreated to the living room while Peter checked on the bathwater, leaving Gavin and Susan to undress their rubber limbed companion. Waving away his protests, she badgered him into removing Patty's top while she pulled off her shoes and skirt. Gavin fumbled helplessly with the buttons, slipping her arms out of the sleeves and trying to keep his eyes averted. Peter returned to the room just as Susan removed the panties, and grabbed his wife by the arms, pulling her upright.

"Could you get her bra please?" He asked Gavin. Gavin blanched, catching sight of Felicity in the doorway, and in a moment of anger and humiliation, unsnapped the garment and dropped it on the bed, then reached a hand around Patty's waist and helped Peter walk her to the bathroom.

"I can do this for you if you like," he said with a vindictive glare toward his wife.

"Well uh..."

"Oh Peter, this is Galleria Preston. She's Felicity's model for her paintings. Galleria has been helping us with the Jubilee." Peter gawked at Felicity who covered her mouth, looking like she was going to cry. "It's a woman thing, let her do it and we'll go and explain what happened- maybe have some coffee?" Susan took his arm and dragged him from the room, along with Felicity, hushing his tense protest.

"I think I should—"

"Nonsense. C'mon now." To Galleria, she said, "If you need any help, you call me, Gal." Gavin nodded, a smile of wicked satisfaction shaping his mouth.

*****

Amanda had been all prepared to attend the gathering at the funeral parlour, and was even prepared to make nice with Milo, should it become necessary. Her position as his secretary, and oft-times recreational partner, instilled a tolerance to his insufferable pomposity; she was alone for the most part, and he was available.

The reason for being alone this particular evening was that Ramon had pulled a back muscle at the gym and was at home in bed recuperating, severely restricting her social activities. Grace had begged off a tennis game, and Donald Gregg seemed to be in hiding at his dealership, so the meeting for the Jubilee gang was her last alternative.

When she arrived, Melaine had been smack in the middle of the group and rather than risk any confrontation, she drifted over by the wagons, striking up conversation with acquaintances from town, most of which centred around Allen, and the woman he was cozying up to.

As the evening wound down and Susan came over to introduce herself to the model, Amanda slipped away to a corner of the lot for a cigarette. Milo was doing his usual schmoozing with the other dignitaries, until they managed to break away, and found himself alone with Everet Polansky, having missed the exodus to the coffee shop.

She waited until Everet left and he was adrift, alone on the asphalt lot, worriedly checking his watch, then walked over, stopping about ten feet short and standing hip shot; the slit in her skirt revealing more than a little thigh.

"Two orphans in the night, eh boss?"

"Amanda! What are you doing here?"

"About the same as you. Wondering what to do now that everyone has taken off."

"Have you seen Melaine, do you know where she is?"

She went with the committee gang uptown somewhere." She moved closer, seeing his jaw set in his usual miffed expression. "So here we are, like I said. Two orphans."

"Bloody inconsiderate lot. Now what am I supposed to do, track her down or wait here until she's finished her gallivanting?"

Amanda leaned against the wagon, finishing her cigarette and toeing it to death on the ground. "They may be quite a while. I could wait with you... if you want some company."

Milo turned and gasped slightly at the white leg protruding erotically from the slit in the dress. He coughed and resumed his annoyed frown, sidling over to where she stood. "Bloody civil of you Amanda. I thought after our little spat the other day you would be avoiding me."

"Milo, we work together. How could I avoid you?" She patted his arm, leaving her fingers on his sleeve.

"Yes, well... right."

Amanda curled a lip and gave him a questioning look. He glanced away; suddenly feeling exposed on the empty parking lot, and stepped closer to the wagon. "Damn fine decorating job, don't you think?"

Amanda said, "Which one are you in?"

"The third one up there, the one with the town crest and blue and yellow ribbons." He stepped past her and wandered down the line of wagons, assessing each against his own. "I'm with Arthur Paisley, Victoria Moss, and that oaf, Polansky."

"Yes, I know," she said, coming up behind him. "What are the seats like?"

"Quite nice actually. See, they're half-rounds in each corner."

"I can't see over the side." Amanda said, standing on tiptoe.

"Uhm, step here," he said, taking her hand and guiding her to the metal side plate that gave access to the driver's seat. Amanda climbed up, and stepped into the wagon, the movement affording Milo a brief flash of black panty. He took another furtive glance around the lot and clambered up after her.

"Say, that was a clever idea." She took little marching steps over the spongy floor covering between the seats. "It's almost like a big bed with four pillows."

"Yes, it is." His voice was hoarse. She sat on one of the corner seats, legs stretched out full length.

"These are really comfortable. I wish I was getting a ride on this tomorrow." A horn sounded out on the main street; a short, sharp bark, immediately smothered by the dark silence of the night. Only a small buzz of insects in the field behind the parking lot disturbed the quiet. Amanda set her purse on the back of the driver's seat and slowly slid off the cushion onto the floor of the wagon, her skirt riding high up her legs. With a sharp intake of breath, Milo tore off his jacket and fell upon her, succumbing to the pleasure that was Amanda.