To the male, cruelty is kicking someone while they're down. The female is more of a realist, so if one of them gets you on the floor prepare to be staked out and skinned alive!

 

Males are confounded by the clitoris. Females understand all about testicles!

 

If cocks couldn't find their own way in the dark, males would be no do and all die.

 

Females know everything, but keep it to themselves. For knowledge is power.

 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

 

Entering the picturesque little village in the wilds of the West Country, the cluster of houses melting into abstract smears of ivy, thatch and stone under the blazing afternoon sun, they crested a humpbacked bridge and there it was. The Halt.

Presenting a windowless facade broken only by a plain black door with the undisguisable patina of steel, a discreet name plaque and a state-of-the-art videocom, the long, two storey brown brick building sat stolidly behind a gravel forecourt.

"We're there!" declared Stephanie, a smile of expectation illuminating her lovely, though unusually cosmetic-free face. Not that her colouring or complexion needed enhancement at the worst of times, and on that day there was an added of glow about her, sort of anticipatory.

"Thank God for that," Adam grunted, promising himself that if their accommodation didn't boast all the sports channels he'd be back home with a six-pack and footie on the TV before she even knew the holiday was cancelled. Swerving onto the gravel, he braked sharply and sat glaring at the uninviting frontage. "It had better be worth all this trouble!"

"It will be, darling. I give you my word that by the end of the week you'll look back on this as the experience of a lifetime."

"I'll believe that when it happens," he muttered.

Stephanie walked confidently to the door, faced the videocom and announced herself. When the electronic lock buzzed, she led the way into a brightly lit foyer with grey carpeting and off-white walls. In lieu of furniture, a security camera stared at them from high in the far corner. Two firmly closed doors led somewhere.

It was scarcely encouraging.

"There's nothing like a warm welcome," Adam snarled. "And this is nothing like one."

"Shssssh!" Stephanie hissed as one door silently opened.

"Welcome," said a statuesque female of indeterminate age, her limpid complexion framed by a cascade of dark hair. Vigorous sexuality radiated from piercing, gunmetal blue eyes, suggesting a force to be reckoned with. She wore velvety black jodhpurs, gleaming leather riding boots, a black, short-sleeved shirt and a peaked riding hat squared off at the brow like a guardsman's cap.

Advancing with hard-heeled, mannish strides, she held out a hand to Stephanie. "Excuse my appearance. We have been holding games whilst waiting. You will be Steve. And you ..." her eyes bored right through Adam, "... must be him." Her hand was withdrawn before he could grasp it.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Adam pursed his lips and whistled silently to himself while studying the paintwork. As if a wife with an agenda in constant conflict with common sense wasn't enough of a burden, he was to be afflicted with an even more crack-brained holiday hostess. With his luck, this slapper would turn out to be the entertainments officer. Oh, happy days!

"Perhaps you would like to bring in your bags and park your car," the woman hissed in his general direction. There was no mistaking the authoritarian tone underpinning the suggestion.

"Park it where?" Adam asked waspishly.

"Continue on down the road about one hundred metres. You will find the access to our secure parking facility. The vehicle will be safe there for the duration of your stay." She pointed to the floor. "Just as the bags will be safe here until you return."

"Is the gate open?" Adam asked petulantly, probing for a weakness.

"No," the woman said with barely disguised impatience. "It will be opened remotely once you reach it. Otherwise, it would not be secure, would it? It will be closed again while you return here." In her left hand was a small infrared remote control. Pointing it at the front door, she pressed the button.

Hearing the summoning buzz, Adam spun on his heel. Complaining sotto voce about frigid fucking man-haters, he stomped off to get the bags.

"As you will have guessed, I am Mike," the woman told Stephanie once Adam was out of earshot. "Michaela, before I came to my senses. I will do everything I can to help you enjoy your stay, and make the most of the unique opportunity it affords."

Stephanie grinned happily, not in the slightest bit disconcerted either by her hostess' appearance or affectedly stilted phrasing. "Thanks. I've had a good feeling about this ever since receiving your prospectus. I can't wait to try on Steve for size."

Leading the way through the inner door, Mike tutted her disapproval. "The Halt is founded on honesty. With oneself most of all. Our alter egos, in your case 'Steve', are the people we are at heart, not someone we need to become. Accept that and everything else will snap into place like a jigsaw."

They entered an office. Holding centre stage were two desks burdened with high-spec computers and stacks of fanfold printout, while along one wall a control panel worthy of Concorde's flight deck controlled a bank of CCTV monitors showing exterior and interior views of the complex. While Stephanie took it all in, Mike shepherded her to a couch and poured them both a cup of freshly ground coffee. "Your head must be buzzing. What would you like to ask me first?"

"There're so many questions, I hardly know where to begin," gasped Steph, overwhelmed but nevertheless feeling more relaxed with every passing second. "This is all so much more than I expected."

"Start with whatever comes to mind." Mike took a sip of coffee, eyes narrowing as she watched Adam on a monitor.

Stephanie laughed. "I suppose the first thing I want to know is when I start?"

"You already have. However, I suggest you allow us to break the ice. Inductees frequently become aggressive, and I suspect that will be the case with Adam. Aside from Jet - my own domestic and business partner - and myself, there are two couples currently in residence. Paul, whose partner is Pearl, and Sam, paired with Jade. The Men have volunteered to guide Adam through the initial phase, if you agree."

Stephanie shrugged and nodded. "I bow to your expertise."

"Good." Jumping up, Mike pressed a button on the control panel. "Here he is at last. The luggage will remain in the foyer until he returns. It is our insulation from the Inferior world."

They watched as the sweating male stumbled inside and dumped the bags before returning to the car and speeding off in a cloud of gravel. Seconds later, Mike pressed another button and they saw the heavy gates roll back to admit the car. While they waited for Adam to park and start on the walk back, Mike used a Tannoy to summon Paul and Sam to the office.

Once Adam had disappeared from camera, the gates were closed. "Car keys are kept safely locked away in here," Mike said. "Jet polices the vehicles daily."

The door opened, admitting two more females also dressed in riding clothes. "Steve? Meet Sam and Paul."

Sam was a petite, slender blonde with twinkling blue eyes. Except that her shirt was white, her garb was identical to Mike's right down to the boots and hard hat. The brown-haired Paul's voluptuous figure was similarly swaddled, the predatory look in her dark eyes flatly declaring that she knew precisely how to make best use of it.

"Hi!" they cheerily chorused, ignoring Steph's proffered hand and smothering her in a group hug.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know to bring riding kit," Steph said.

"All provided, using the measurements you supplied with the booking form. Aside from any indispensable personal items, your cases will be locked away as securely as your car keys." Mike announced. She smiled expansively. "Enjoy. The male will pay, in any and every way that your imagination can contrive."

Putting an arm round Steph's shoulder, Paul said: "We wore these outfits to hold races."

"Races?"

Sam winked. "Wait and see. We could have some more tomorrow, if you'd like. Give you a chance to see what your mount is made of. It's never less than fun!"

Right then, the videocom buzzed. Mike pressed the button to allow Adam through the front door. "Sam. Paul. Take care of that, would you?"

Stephanie approved of Mike's contemptuous inflexion.

 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

 

Despite the fact it was teatime, the return trek from the car park left Adam feeling drained and annoyingly sticky. His feet were as humid as the cloying air. If the walk had been any longer, they'd have squelched.

To make matters worse his designer boxer shorts seemed intent on gelding him, mangling everything into a tangle of tortured flesh. Not that he dare admit it, short of his testicles turning black. Not after justifying the extravagant purchase with a diatribe about the beneficial effects to his libido of letting everything hang loose.

Though it was cooler inside, the last thing he felt like doing was hump suitcases. But since Steph had vanished with that horsy harridan, there was no assistance and less option. Gripping the handle of her vanity case in his teeth and tucking a small bag under each arm, he was scrabbling for the handles of the large pair, when:

"Men don't work here. That's for Women."

Looking up from his undignified squat, he saw a resplendently feminine version of Laurel and Hardy enter through one door and stand, arms akimbo, regarding him with a blend of sympathy and amusement. Dropping the cases, he drew up to his six-foot height, dried his palms on his slacks and took some time to appreciate their equestrian pulchritude before replying. "Then it would be churlish of me to insist."

Striding towards him, the females grasped an arm each and, ignoring the bags, guided him swiftly to the second door.

"We've been given the task of helping you settle in," cooed the smaller of the two.

"Leave everything to us," declared Paul, pulling the happily unresisting Adam over the threshold while Sam giggled and jiggled in their wake. "We'll start with the guided tour."

Interest fully engaged for the first time that day, Adam found himself in a converted railway station. Purchased privately after Dr Beeching axed the line, it had been craftily remodelled into a cloistered sanctuary that nevertheless retained an atmosphere of Victorian otherworldliness. In fact, so far as he could see, the major change had involved telescoping everything into a self-contained precinct about a hundred and fifty metres long by sixty or so wide. Even the signal box had been shunted up onto the end of the opposite platform.

And why not, indeed? When whole castles and bridges were shipped stone by stone around the world, concertinaing some bricks couldn't have proved overly difficult.

A polished brass safety rail edged the platforms, with breaks for steps down to the pit where the track had lain. Leaning her back against it and regarding him with a bluntly appreciative stare, Sam jerked her thumbs to where the old permanent way terminated in high brick walls. "Those are triple walls, the cavities filled with foam. You couldn't hear hammering on the other side with a stethoscope."

Paul gestured to where the sun angled through the clear roofing. "Same principle up there, but using toughened glass and a clear gel. And inner and outer surfaces are coated to admit light but reflect heat, so it's cool in summer and cosy in winter."

"And ..." Sam added, "... the perimeter walls of all the buildings are also soundproofed."

"Not the dividing walls, though," Paul leered, nudging Adam in the ribs. "So if you're into pervy games, either play quietly or invite the neighbours."

Adam nodded sagely, wondering what he and Steph could possibly get up to that would be worth pressing a glass against the wall for. "Clever. You could hold a war in here without anyone being the wiser."

The two females chuckled coyly. "We often do," said Sam.