Tortoise Interruptus

Tortoise Interruptus - 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. Tortoise Interruptus SINGLE SHOTS An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers PO Box 2545 Round Rock, TX 78680 Copyright © 2011 by JL Merrow Cover illustration by Alessia Brio Published with permission ISBN: 978-1-61040-174-6 www.torquerepress.com All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. First Torquere Press Printing: March 2011 Printed in the USA

Tortoise Interruptus - 2

Tortoise Interruptus

By JL Merrow

Dedication: For Tiggothy, who when told of the real-life incident that inspired this tale, said, "Tortoise-napping? Sounds a good start for a silly story..." "So, that's a Tiptree's Tasty Ham salad roll, and an Isle of Wight Elderflower juice," Janey said cheerfully. "Can I interest you in a packet of red squirrel flavored crisps? No? That'll be six pounds seventy-five then, please. Tip, you ready with that ham salad roll? Tip?" Tip shook his head. There was an unpleasant rushing in his ears, and his sister's voice had started to sound like it was coming from underwater. "Sorry -- got to go." Janey sighed, then bellowed to her husband. "Mike? Can you give us a hand? Tip's having one of his turns!" "You don't have to shout it to the whole café," Tip muttered, untying his apron with shaking hands. "You make me sound like a Victorian spinster. They'll be offering to unlace my stays." "Moan, moan, moan. Just get out of here before you come over all peculiar, will you?" Janey's eyes narrowed as she tapped her foot in impatience. "You're already starting to look a bit gray." "It'll be all that standing up behind the counter," the plump, white-haired woman waiting for her lunch said kindly. "You shouldn't ought to work him so hard, young lady. You can see he's delicate." "I am not--" Tip bit back the comment. Don't upset the paying customers. It was the first rule Janey had drummed into him when he'd come to work for her at Tiptree's Treats. But it still rankled -- just because he wasn't over-tall and, okay, maybe he was a bit skinny, and all right, his family routinely referred to him as "the Tortoise Interruptus - 3

pretty one," which annoyed his sister no end... "Sorry, Janey. See you in a bit." "You should take the rest of the day off, dear!" Mrs. Helpful's voice followed him through the crowded café as a sea of customers craned their necks to examine this rare specimen of Flora Delicatis Unmanlius. It could be worse, he repeated to himself as he reached the office and shut the door behind him. It could be worse. After all, there were lots of less pleasant things the old witch could have turned him into. A slug, for instance, would still have fit in with the mad biddy's idea of the punishment fitting the crime. Or a snail. And he'd seen what birds did to snails... Tip shuddered. And she could have been better at it, too -- he might have been doomed to stay in animal form for the rest of his unnatural life, instead of just popping into it now and then at inconvenient moments. Pulling his shirt off and flinging it on a chair, Tip realized he'd left it too late to get his trousers off. He could feel that weird, sucking-in sensation he always got when it happened, coupled with a sort of stiffening of his back, and he knew from experience his fingers would have lost what little dexterity he possessed at the best of times. Resigning himself, Tip got down on all fours, wincing a little at the hardness of the floor on his admittedly not-very-well-padded knees. Just in time, as the change rippled through him. He often wondered if he should get Janey to film it some time, so he could see what it looked like from the outside. Just looking in the mirror didn't work -- his eyes went all out of focus while it was going on. Trouble was, if the visual effects were particularly hideous, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. And if he just looked stupid, he definitely didn't want to know. The enforced Tortoise Interruptus - 4

shape-shifting was bad enough; he didn't want to feel like a complete dork as well. As his limbs shortened, the pressure in his back increased, until with a soundless pop it released. Tip breathed out. It was over. He'd changed. He stretched his altered limbs carefully and waggled his little tail for the hell of it before cautiously edging forward in the familiar, wide-legged gait. He'd once tripped over his clothes at this point and ended up on his back, seesawing on the curve of his carapace. It had been absolutely mortifying when Janey came to check on him. He was still lumbering free of his trousers when the door opened. Janey stood in the doorway for a moment, hands on hips, tutting at him. "I suppose I'll have to hang your clothes up, as per usual." One of these days, Tip was going to learn how to make a rude gesture in tortoise form. He settled for opening his jaws wide and extending his tongue. Unfortunately, Janey was too busy folding up his trousers to notice. "Right. How about we take you out for a bit of sun, then?" she said in that cooing voice she reserved for small children, the terminally confused, and Tip. "You can go and charm the customers in the outdoor seats." Scooping him up with a hand under his plastron, she carried him through the café and out into the garden, depositing him on the lawn by the tables. "There we go!" She wasn't all that bad, Tip thought as he munched a blade of grass. As older sisters went, that was. There weren't many employers who'd be so understanding about him having to take emergency "sick leave" at a moment's notice several times a week. And she hardly ever teased him about it, possibly because she'd had Tortoise Interruptus - 5

protruding ears as a child and knew what it was like to have a physical abnormality. Tip drew his head in guiltily as he remembered all those "Dumbo" jokes that'd seemed so funny at the time. Yep, she was definitely better than he deserved. A bee bumbled around, stopping every now or then to visit a flower, and Tip watched it thoughtfully. He liked bees. Might he be able to persuade Janey to keep a hive? When he'd changed back, of course. They could serve fresh, home-made honey at the café. And Tip would be able to get one of those outfits, with the net veil and the gauntlets... Yes. Definitely worth a try. The outside seating at Tiptree's Treats was set in a sunken area of the gardens, bordered by the lawn, so Tip's little patch of sunlight and grass was pretty much at table level. He'd become quite adept at scrounging bits of salad from people's sandwiches -- tortoises might not exactly have a head start in the cute stakes, at least not compared to furrier fauna, but Tip reckoned he was pretty good at working with what he'd got. He lifted his head to survey the scene, wondering which table to amble over to. He was midway between a family with two small children and the elderly lady from earlier. Kids were generally pretty susceptible to his reptilian charms, but Tip had been a bit wary of them ever since a toddler had picked him up for a cuddle and almost dropped him on the flagstones. He'd had nightmares that night about eagles snatching him up and dropping him from great heights, as if he were a particularly tasty nut that needed cracking. He'd opened his eyes to find Janey standing over him with a grim look on her face; apparently he'd woken everyone up shouting, "Please don't eat me! Eat my sister, she's much fatter than I am!" Tortoise Interruptus - 6

Mrs. Helpful it was. After all, she'd felt sorry for him in human form; hopefully she'd be just as soft-hearted toward tortoises. He lumbered over, eyed the old lady, and tilted his head to one side in what he hoped was a winsome look. "Oh, aren't you just adorable? I'm sure you'd like a little something tasty, now, wouldn't you?" Another one bites the dust, Tip thought smugly as he munched on not just the cucumber from her ham salad roll, but the much harder to come by slice of tomato. He ambled closer and rested his head on the table, earning himself a lettuce leaf and a scrap of ham, which he wasn't actually all that keen on when he was in this form, but ate anyway to be polite. He received a constant stream of tidbits as Mrs. Helpful (the nickname now no longer ironic in Tip's mind) finished her lunch and washed it down with her glass of Isle of Wight Elderflower juice. Janey prided herself on stocking local produce. Tip felt quite welldisposed toward the old lady as she delicately dabbed her lips with a paper napkin, fussed with her spectacles, and generally got ready to go. He was about to amble off in search of dessert when she spoke. "You know, I'm sure they don't really look after you properly here -- you seem half-starved, you poor little thing. Never mind. I'll take good care of you." To his horror, Tip felt himself lifted -- and then plunged into darkness. The bloody woman had stuffed him in her handbag! Surely someone must have noticed? Drawing in his limbs in fright (and also to avoid major lacerations from an industrial-sized nail file) Tip waited anxiously for the calls of "Stop! Thief! Unhand (or perhaps Unbag?) that tortoise at once!" Keys and lipsticks poking him in uncomfortable places; he waited in vain. Rattling in his Tortoise Interruptus - 7

shell as the bag lurched from side to side, bumping against the woman's ample hips, Tip started to wonder if he really should have listened to Janey's suggestion that she get him microchipped. She wouldn't even be able to report him missing. Tip could just imagine how it'd go at the police office: "Yes, Miss? You say your brother's been kidnapped? Can you describe him, please? I see. Six inches tall, gray in color, with a hard shell. Any distinguishing features? Oh, just that he's a tortoise? Thank you, Miss. Can I just remind you of the very severe penalties for wasting police time?" No, he was on his own here. He'd just have to hope the change back wouldn't happen while he was still in the handbag -- with his luck, it'd be Tip who'd find himself in jail, not this interfering, tortoise-napping old baggage. People seemed to get so uptight about naked men appearing from nowhere. There was a jolt as Tip's bag was dumped down, none too gently, then the unmistakable slamming of a car door. Tip breathed a silent prayer that they wouldn't be heading straight for the ferry. If he ended up off the island with no clothes, no money, and no phone... He began to regret eating so much, his stomach churning with nerves. Although it'd serve the old biddy right if he chucked up in her handbag. Nevertheless, he was relieved to make it to the end of the journey without incident -- and more importantly, without hearing the tell-tale sounds of a car ferry crossing. As he felt the handbag lifted out of the car, Tip wondered where he was. The journey had seemed to take forever, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t mind betting that Mrs. Helpful was exactly the sort of old lady who always drove everywhere at fifteen miles an hour, Tortoise Interruptus - 8

oblivious to the traffic jam forming behind her and the drivers about to go into meltdown. Where was that impatient old witch when you needed her, eh? Tip wouldn't mind seeing how Mrs. Helpful liked life as a tortoise, vulnerable to being picked up and dumped in people's handbags without so much as a by your leave. Jarred and jolted as they made their way upstairs, Tip was unutterably relieved when he finally felt himself lifted out of the bag and placed on the floor. He looked around. He was in a hotel room, at a guess; it had that slightly tatty, unloved feel common to a lot of the cheaper island guesthouses. And yes -- sand, firmly ingrained into the carpet. "Here we are," Mrs. Helpful cooed. "Safe and sound. Now, you've had your lunch, so you'll be all right here for the afternoon, won't you? I'm going to go for a little walk along the sea front -- such a shame to waste this lovely weather we're having -- but first I've got to call my sister. She does worry so." Yes! Tip felt an un-tortoise-like urge to punch the air. With any luck, she'd be out long enough for him to change back. Granted, he'd then be naked in a stranger's hotel room with no idea where he was, but if they were that near the beach, he could just wrap himself in a bath towel and pretend he'd been swimming. Then it was simply a matter of finding some kind soul to lend him a phone. Janey wouldn't exactly be pleased to have to leave the café and come and get him, but she wouldn't just leave him here, either. Probably. He watched impatiently until the door slammed behind Mrs. Helpful, then frantically tried to think human thoughts. He didn't have a clue if it would help, but it certainly couldn't hurt, could it? Plus, he’d always had a vague idea that maybe magic was just a really Tortoise Interruptus - 9

complicated sort of hypnosis, and if he could only convince his body it was supposed to be human, then it'd change back out of embarrassment. Or something. Five hours later, that theory was looking ready for the wastepaper basket. Tip paced restlessly, or at least as restlessly as he could manage in his present form. Honestly, he was going to go mad cooped up in here. Nothing to eat -- not even a TV to watch. How cheap did a hotel have to be to not even have a TV in the room? Not that he could have reached the controls in any case, but he could at least have whiled away the hours trying to come up with a plan to get hold of the remote. The monotony was broken only by the return of Mrs. Helpful, bearing lettuce. It was iceberg, which wasn't his favorite (Tip preferred a nice cos, or rocket for a treat), but he munched it hungrily anyway. It looked like he was set for a marathon session as a tortoise this time -there was no set pattern to his changes, but they tended to be either disconcertingly short or inconveniently long, with no middle ground. The suit he'd bought for his sister's wedding three months ago had been a total waste of money; he'd spent the whole event in tortoise form, worried he'd either change back suddenly or get trodden on. At least Janey had vetoed Mike's suggestion that they tape the rings to his back and have him lumber up the aisle to present them. Tip still had nightmares of suddenly appearing, naked, in a crowded church... Tip began to worry Mrs. Helpful would have him off the island and settled in a cardboard box somewhere before he changed back. Apprehension flared as she picked him up -- but it was the bathroom she took him to. He panicked briefly, limbs flailing, as she lowered him into the bath, and then felt like an idiot when he realized there wasn't any water in it. Apparently tortoisedrowning was not to be tonight's entertainment. Tortoise Interruptus - 10

"There we go, dearie. You'll be safe for the night in there." Dumped in the bath without even a spider for company, Tip gloomily surveyed the walls of his porcelain prison. He barely slept a wink that night, terrified he'd change back in his sleep and the first he'd know about it would be Mrs. Helpful screaming when she found a naked man in her bath. After all, old ladies generally had to get up in the night, didn't they? His old gran had regularly woken him several times a night when she came to stay, clomping across the landing to the bathroom with her walking sticks. Mrs. Helpful proved to be made of sterner stuff -- but it was all beside the point, as Tip stayed resolutely gray and shelly. *** "Good morning, dearie!" Mrs. Helpful's irritating trill jarred Tip out of the fitful doze he'd finally fallen into. He felt himself being lifted and gazed blearily into her wrinkly smile. Tip was never at his best after a sleepless night, and after everything he'd endured lately, he felt he was entitled to a bit of a sulk. He drew his limbs and head firmly within his shell and refused to come out no matter how Mrs. Helpful tried to coax him. Maybe she'd get bored of him and take him back? "Oh, dear. I thought you were looking peaky," she muttered, patting his shell absently. "What am I going to do if you've died? I suppose I'll have to bury you somewhere." Tip's head shot out of his shell so fast he was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "There you are!" Delighted with his reappearance, she tickled Tip under his chin. He tried to glower at her, Tortoise Interruptus - 11

but unfortunately tortoises weren't exactly big on facial expressions. "Now, you be a good boy while I go down to breakfast, and I'll bring you back a treat!" She picked Tip up, and he struggled briefly but fruitlessly. Bloody hell, was it back to the bath? He'd go mad looking at those four white walls any longer! "I think we'd better hide you under the bed," Mrs. Helpful said. "Although I've half a mind--" Never a truer word, thought Tip uncharitably. "--to leave you in the bath. I'm sure those maids never clean properly. It'd be a good test of whether they really take pride in their work. Still, we can't have you being discovered, can we?" On the whole, Tip was inclined to agree. Things would be much simpler if he was just left to his own devices. So when she popped him under the bed, he drew in his limbs obligingly. "There's a good boy! Now, don't worry, I won't be long." She bustled off, and at the sound of the door closing, Tip poked his head out again, instantly alert. His chances of escape depended on the maid coming in while Mrs. Helpful was at breakfast. It was a narrow enough window of opportunity as it was; he couldn't afford to miss it. He'd have to keep his eyes peeled for the first signs of the maid's arrival, ready to spring into action. Insofar as a tortoise could spring, of course, which admittedly wasn't very far at all. Tip lumbered to the edge of the bedspread, peering through the tassels that hung in front of his face. No matter how long it took, he'd be ready. He yawned -- last night was definitely catching up with him. But he couldn't give in to it: he had to stay awake. Just a little... bit... longer... Tortoise Interruptus - 12

Tip awoke with a jolt. A noise like a Boeing 747 assaulted his eardrums just as a large, hard object violently assaulted his nose. Drawing back and blinking rapidly, Tip realized it was the maid with the vacuum cleaner. Fortunately for him, she stopped just short of the fringe of the bedspread, presumably working on the principle that out of sight was out of mind. It was a principle that Tip heartily approved of at that moment. When she moved round the bed, Tip risked a peek out into the room. Yes -- he was in luck. The door was propped open. Did he dare...? This could be his only chance of escape. What would be worse -- blowing it by acting too soon, or missing it entirely by acting too late? Tip was in an agony of indecision, but fortunately for him, the maid gave one last half-hearted go over the carpet by the door and then disappeared into the bathroom. Hoping Mrs. Helpful would be proved wrong as to the amount of time she'd spend in there, Tip took his chance. Adrenaline coursing sluggishly through his veins, he lumbered through the door and down the corridor. What if the maid saw him? The best that could happen was that she'd put him back in the room. What if she called the RSPCA, and he ended up in a cage somewhere? How the hell would he explain that when he got back to his usual form? Tip needed to find cover. Somewhere he could wait out the change. And, hopefully, somewhere he could find some clothes to borrow before he got arrested for indecent exposure. He thought fast -- at least, a damn sight faster than his stubby little legs could carry him. His best bet would be to hide in another room, he realized. Rolling his eyes at himself, metaphorically speaking as it wasn't very easy to do physically in tortoise form, he retraced his steps and, daringly, clambered with some difficulty onto Tortoise Interruptus - 13

the trolley the maid had left outside the room, hiding himself amongst the clean linens. There was a mind-numbing wait while the maid did an unnecessarily thorough job on Tip's kidnapper's bathroom -- well, all right, maybe the bath did need a particularly good scrub this morning, but it wasn't Tip's fault; it wasn't like he could have got out of it to go to the toilet -- but apart from that, the plan went swimmingly. Tip was able to ride the trolley to the next room and hop off while the maid was occupied in the bathroom. He swiftly hid under the bed with the dust bunnies, hoping the zeal she'd shown in the previous room wouldn't extend to vacuuming properly under there for change. Once again his luck held. Tip was left in peace, and the dust bunnies lived to dance and shag another day under the badly-sprung mattress. When he was sure the maid had gone for good, Tip poked his head out cautiously from under the candlewick bedspread. He was in a single room, barely less cramped than his shell. The shirt on the sole, hard-backed chair and the socks left carelessly on the square inch of nondescript carpet indicated it was a man's room. Excellent -- Tip would be able to steal some clothes when he finally changed back. He lumbered forth, eager to see what else he could deduce about the man in whose shoes he would shortly be standing. There was a paperback on the bedside table, placed so that the end of it protruded a couple of inches over the edge. Studying what he could see of the cover for a moment, Tip was almost certain he was looking at the naked man adorning the latest James Lear novel. If so, that said rather interesting things about his unwitting, absent host. Frustratingly, the paperback's spine was turned at an angle from him. Tortoise Interruptus - 14

Tip had only got halfway through his copy of the book before Janey had confiscated it, telling him that even if it was his tea break, that sort of stuff was far too racy to read in front of the customers. Maybe if he could get it down somehow, perhaps by clawing his way up the bedspread, Tip could find some way of turning the pages? He was desperate to find out who Mitch would shag next. Still, better make sure it was the right book before he made all the effort. Tip was craning his neck and had almost made out the first word of the blurb when the door opened. Which might not have been a disaster -- except that at that moment his chelonian curse ran out of juice, and he changed back to human. The book went flying as Tip shot up to what, in his case, passed for man size. Wobbling slightly as he remembered how to balance on two feet, Tip stood, hands cupped in front of his bits in the traditional ohmy-god-I'm-naked pose, staring at the best-looking man he'd ever seen. At least if he was going to die here, he thought fatalistically, he'd have something nice to look at as he went. The tall, dark and (in the circumstances) rather worryingly well-muscled stranger goggled. Tip cringed, past experience having been harrowing enough to lead him to expect nothing good. "Um," the man said. "Would you like to borrow some clothes?" *** Clothed, for want of a better word, in a pair of trousers several sizes too big for him and a T-shirt with pretensions to become a dress, Tip sat on the bed, both Tortoise Interruptus - 15

hands wrapped around a cup of tea, into which his host had thoughtfully put several sugars. "Er, sorry about invading your room like that," he said, feeling an apology was probably in order. "I was trying to escape from an old lady who tortoise-napped me. I'm Tip, by the way." The stranger laughed. "Your name's Tip? Tip the tortoise? Isn't that just encouraging cruelty to animals?" Tip narrowed his eyes. "It's short for Tiptree. My surname." "So what's your first name?" the man inquired, looking utterly relaxed as he sprawled on the bed next to Tip, propped up on one elbow in a way that made his shoulder muscles bulge distractingly. Tip glared all the more fiercely for knowing the effect was entirely ruined by the reddening of his cheeks. "Tarquin," he ground out from between clenched teeth. His host grimaced in sympathy. "Tip it is, then. I'm Steve." Bloody typical. Not only was Steve unbelievably good-looking, he had a perfectly sensible name to boot. He'd probably turn out to be rich and intelligent, with a fantastic career in brain surgery or fashion photography. Although probably not in beekeeping, which had been the number one of Tip's three dream careers as a kid. For some reason, everyone always laughed when Tip told them that. "Meet a lot of tortoise shape-shifters, do you?" Tip asked, unable to keep a sullen tone out of his voice and to be honest, not really trying. "You seem to be taking this awfully well." Steve smiled and sat up, one broad shoulder brushing Tip's in disconcerting fashion. "Well, my family's from Tortoise Interruptus - 16

the island originally. I spent a lot of time here as a kid -you kind of get used to unusual things happening." "You do?" Tip wondered aloud. He'd lived on the Isle of Wight most of his life, and he'd still been woefully unprepared for sudden shape-shifting. Perhaps he should have got out more. "So, how did you develop this, ah, interesting ability?" Steve continued. "It's not an ability, it's a curse." Tip's shoulders slumped, and the neck of the over-large T-shirt slipped right off one of them. He hitched it up hurriedly. "I found these beautiful tie-dyed skirts in a little shop down at Arreton Barns Craft Village, lovely shades of pink and purple they were, but I just couldn't decide which one to go for." Steve's eyes widened, and he drew back almost imperceptibly to stare at Tip. "It was a birthday present for my sister," Tip added hurriedly. Could he look any more like a girl? "Anyway, it was closing time, and I know the woman just wanted to make the sale, pack up the shop, and go home, but she was really getting on my nerves, tapping her feet and looking at her watch, and it just made it harder to choose. So in the end I said I'd leave it for now, and she got really mad at me! Said if I enjoyed going slow and wasting people's time, she'd make it easy for me, and then she started muttering strange words at me, and all of a sudden poof! I was a tortoise." Tip stopped to draw breath. "It was awful. I thought it was going to be forever!" Steve nodded. "How did you change back?" he asked with apparently genuine curiosity. Tip shrugged and had to hitch his T-shirt up again. "It just seemed to wear off, several hours later. It was dark by then, thank God. I hadn't gone far from the shop, Tortoise Interruptus - 17

obviously, and so I climbed in through an open window and grabbed my clothes back. Then I drove home, had a stiff drink, and tried to forget all about it." "And then it happened again?" Steve's tone was sympathetic, and his shoulders once more nudged companionably against Tip's. Tip tried to ignore the effect the contact was having on his groin. "Yeah, only without the mad old witch mumbling at me. Since then it's been two or three times a week, with never more than about five minutes' warning. You've no idea how much of a pain it is! I can't travel by plane in case it happens, swimming's out, too -I'm not an aquatic species, I'd probably sink like a stone -- and as for my social life..." Tip trailed off, reluctant to go through his sorry history of foreshortened dates. "I'm not normally this pathetic and whiney," he added in the face of all the evidence. "Of course you're not!" Steve said bracingly. "You know what? You need to stop letting this get you down. Come out--" "Do NOT say 'come out of your shell,'" Tip hissed, tight-lipped. "--for lunch with me," Steve finished smoothly, as if he'd never been interrupted. Tip blinked. "Really? I'll warn you now, I may not make it to dessert." "I guess dating's a bit of a problem, huh?" "Just a bit. Last bloke I had to run out on still isn't speaking to me. Um. That is the latest James Lear over there, isn't it?" Realizing a little late that he'd just outed himself, Tip crossed his fingers. He'd learned from experience that a lot of men were all right with the naked bit unless he let slip he was gay, at which point things would tend to go quickly and appallingly pearshaped. And okay, Steve had just asked him out for Tortoise Interruptus - 18

lunch, but Tip had found to his chagrin that wanting lunch with a bloke and wanting rampant mansex with him were two very different things. The fact that he was wearing this guy's clothes would probably make it worse... Steve was frowning. Tip braced himself for flight or flattening. "To be honest, I think he's got a new one out now." The frown broke into a sunny smile. "Still, I like the ones with Mitch in the best -- how about you?" "Thank God!" Tip grinned somewhat moronically in relief. "I mean, yes. I think. Um, what was the question?" "You know, you're really very cute," Steve said, brushing his fingers along Tip's jaw line. Tip swallowed, wondering if it was a good thing or bad that the bagginess of the clothes he was currently swamped in would completely hide the effect the contact was having on him. He leaned toward Steve, and those warm, soft fingers continued to caress his skin, the aroma of cheap hotel soap and expensive aftershave teasing Tip's nose and bringing the promise of earthier scents to come. Just as he was wondering if Steve was going to kiss him, there was a frantic knocking on the door. Tip jumped, remembered he was (a) human and (b) decent, and relaxed, only then allowing himself to curse under his breath at the interruption. "Come in," Steve called. The door burst open in a bustle of floral prints and sensible shoes. "Oh, Stephen! There you are! Something dreadful's happened!" Tip blinked. It was Mrs. Bloody Helpful. "Calm down, Aunty May," Steve said in soothing tones. "I'll make you a cup of tea." Tortoise Interruptus - 19

Aunty May? Mrs. Helpful was Steve's aunty? Tip hurriedly reviewed what he'd said about her to Steve. He didn't think he'd made any mortal insults. She wrung her hands in time-honored drama school tradition. "We haven't got time for tea! We have to find him!" Realizing just which "him" she must be talking about, Tip tried to make himself look as un-tortoise-like as possible. He comforted himself with the memory of Janey telling him he looked more ferrety than reptilian, although oddly enough he hadn't really appreciated the comment at the time. "Oh -- I'm so sorry, Stephen, I didn't realize you had company..." She peered through her varifocals at Tip, and her watery eyes narrowed. "Don't I know you, young man?" Tip swallowed. "This is Tip," Steve said quickly. "And I really don't think we need to worry about the tortoise." Tip looked from one to the other of them as if they were on center court at Wimbledon and he had a frontrow seat. "Did you just wink at her? And did you tap your nose at him?" He scrambled to his feet, holding up the too-large trousers with one hand. "Is this some kind of deranged conspiracy?" "No--" said Mrs. Helpful. "Yes, it is," said Steve at exactly the same moment. "But not a bad one, honestly." "Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" Tip asked suspiciously, trying to edge toward the door without tripping over his too-long trouser legs. "Stay away from me!" he yelped as Steve got to his feet. "Just give me five minutes to explain. Please, Tip," Steve said, playing the wholly unfair card of gazing at Tip winningly out of stunningly clear blue eyes whilst Tortoise Interruptus - 20

saying his name in rich, mellow tones. "I promise you'll be free to go, afterward." "I'm listening," Tip said reluctantly, the memory of Steve's touch obviously interfering with his capacity for rational thought. "Right. Well." Steve hesitated, running his hand through his thick, dark hair. "It’s about that curse you mentioned. The fact is... Well, the witch who cursed you is my aunty." "No, she's not," Tip objected. "I'm not a total idiot -- I think I'd have recognized the woman who turned me into a tortoise!" "I've got it!" Mrs. Helpful said triumphantly. "You're the young man from the café!" Her eyes widened, and her mouth made an O shape. "Yes, Aunty May." Steve turned back to Tip. "And no, not Aunty May -- her sister, my Aunty June. She's the one with the shop in Arreton Barns. I'm afraid she can get a bit irritable--" "Irritable? Irritable?" Tip exploded. "I'd hate to see what she does when she's really annoyed!" Steve grinned unexpectedly. "Believe me, you don't want to know. Anyway, she felt terrible about what she'd done to you afterward, so she's been trying to find you and put it right." Tip couldn't help feeling she mustn't have been trying all that hard. "So where do you and Mrs. Helpful come in?" "Mrs. -- oh! You mean Aunty May?" Steve's eyebrows rose in amusement, and next to him, his aunt preened, clearly taking it for a compliment. "Well," Steve continued, "poor old Aunty June's getting on a bit -- her location charms aren't what they used to be. So in the end she asked Aunty May to come over and help out. Aunty May's a dab hand at all kinds of dowsing, aren't Tortoise Interruptus - 21

you, Aunty? " He paused. "Actually, we were expecting you to be permanently tortoise-shaped. And tortoisebrained, come to that. Aunty June's hexes clearly aren't what they used to be, either. And she must have forgotten all about your clothes. It gave me a bit of a shock to see you change back in front of me, I can tell you!" "I'd certainly have thought twice about sharing a hotel room with you last night if I'd known, young man!" Aunty May put in, folding her hands primly in her lap. Tip stared at her for a moment in frank disbelief that she could ever have thought for one moment her virtue was in danger, even if he hadn't been gay. "So if she's here to find me, what about you?" he asked, turning to Steve. "Well," Steve said again, lounging back on the bed and smiling up at Tip in a way that did curious things to his insides, "Aunty June was worried you might get a bit, ah, vengeful once the curse had been removed. So she asked me to come over for the de-cursing, and Aunty May got me the hotel room." "She got you to come over -- to defend her against me?" Tip actually felt quite flattered. He didn't think anyone had ever been frightened of him before. "Poor dear," Aunty May put in, "her memory's obviously worse than we thought." Tip's ego, never very robust to start with, deflated rapidly. "So, let's just see if I've got this straight. You did some kind of spell to find me, then went along to the café and tortoise-napped me so you could take me back to your sister, and you--" he turned to look at Steve "-came along to make sure I didn't beat up a defenseless little old lady, despite the fact that said defenseless little Tortoise Interruptus - 22

old lady is actually a witch who can turn people into reptiles?" "Well, she does mammals, too, and I think in her youth she once turned someone into a garden gnome, but essentially, yes." Steve nodded, smiling as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "And," Tip said loudly, feeling Steve hadn't quite grasped the most important point here, "said witch is going a bit gaga, excuse the phrase, and her magic's about as reliable as the British weather, but nevertheless you expect me to go along and willingly let her cast another spell on me?" "Um. It doesn't sound quite so good when you put it like that, but yes, that's about the size of it." Steve beamed like he didn't have a care in the world, which, Tip thought sourly, he probably didn't. "Excellent. Good. Goodbye," Tip said brightly, flinging open the door and dashing out as fast as his borrowed trousers would let him. "What? Wait!" "Enjoy the rest of your stay!" Tip called over his shoulder, and hastened his steps as he saw Steve coming after him. Stairs, stairs, where were the -- ow. Ow. Ow. Ow, ow, ow. Ow. Tip sprawled at the foot of the staircase, his borrowed trousers down around his knees (but that was all right, as his borrowed T-shirt easily reached that far) and tried to work out which bit to rub first. "Tip!" Steve leapt down the stairs with irritating grace and knelt down beside him. "Are you all right?" "Yes, fine -- I always come downstairs this way. Why do you ask?" Tortoise Interruptus - 23

Steve smiled. "You're adorable when you're sarcastic, you know that? Come on, let me help you up." He didn't help Tip up so much as lift him up and cradle him in annoyingly strong arms. What was worse, Tip found that he liked it. "I'm quite capable of walking," he protested half-heartedly. Steve's breath was warm on Tip's face as he answered. "Yes, but not without doing yourself an injury, apparently. Look, I'll take you back to the room - is there anyone you can call to bring you some clothes that'll fit better?" "Janey. My sister." Who was probably worried sick about him, Tip remembered guiltily. "Good. I'll lend you my phone, and then we can sit down and talk about getting this spell off you. And stop struggling; no one's going to force you into anything you don't want to do." It should be illegal for anyone to wear a smile quite that disarming, Tip thought. "Sounds like the triumph of hope over experience to me," he muttered, but he let himself be carried back to the room. *** "Where the hell have you been?" Tip winced and held Steve's phone a little farther from his ear as Janey's strident tones attempted to pierce clean through his left ear drum. "I got..." He paused. Aunty May was in the room, smiling at him beatifically. Would it be impolite to refer to the kidnapping? "There was a bit of a misunderstanding," he finished weakly. Janey groaned. "God, you haven't been arrested again, have you? I told you--"

Tortoise Interruptus - 24

"No! No, I'm in Sandown. In a hotel. I've, er, borrowed some clothes, but they don't fit me very well. Or at all, really. Do you think you could..." "Right." She sighed. "I'll come on over. You do realize this is a really busy time of day at the café, don't you?" "Janey, it's always a busy time of day at the café. And you know I wouldn't call you if I didn't have to." Tip felt a bit guilty there. He could have asked Steve to drive him back home, but he had a nasty suspicion Steve would insist on carrying him from the car as if he were a wilting heroine in a bad romance novel. And while part of him -- all right, most of him -- found that a rather appealing scenario, if Janey saw it... well, spending the rest of his life as a tortoise would seem pleasant compared to the mockery Tip would have to endure. Janey might be sensitive about his unfortunate condition, but when it came to his love life, the gloves were off. Speaking of his love life, certain parts of Tip had very much appreciated his ride in those well-muscled arms, and he'd begun to see the advantages of remaining with Steve, even if the bloke did have rather worrying ideas about getting Tip de-spelled by a senile sorceress. One thing they didn’t need, though, was a chaperone. "Mrs., er, Aunty May?" "Yes, dearie?" She gave him a denture-filled smile. Tip tried to arrange his features into the most innocent look he could manage. "I'm sure you don't want to hang around all morning while we wait for my sister to turn up, do you?" Steve caught on quickly. "Yes, Aunty, there's no need for you to be cooped up with us all day." "Oh, how thoughtful of you, dears. I'll just have that cup of tea you promised me earlier and then I'll be off Tortoise Interruptus - 25

for a bit of sea air." She bustled around the room filling the kettle, boiling it, discarding the first kettle-full ("because you never really know, do you?"), then refilling, re-boiling, and finally drinking her bloody tea. By the time she'd finished, the tea wasn't the only thing that was seething, although in Tip's case it was with frustration. As the door finally closed behind her, Tip turned to Steve with a pleasant shivery feeling in his abdomen. "Um," he said eloquently. "Yes?" Steve raised an eyebrow, his smile turning seductive. "We, er, earlier..." Tip trailed off as Steve leaned toward him and took his chin in one large, capable hand. "Yes?" Steve encouraged him, his other hand snaking around Tip's waist as his warm breath ghosted over Tip's lips. "We, uh..." Tip lost all capacity for speech as the hand in the small of his back urged him closer, and soft, dry lips descended on his mouth. His body melted against Steve's, and his cock rose, stiff and needy. At that point, with impeccable timing, Janey turned up. She'd made it to the hotel in around twenty minutes, which Tip was pretty sure was only a third of the time it'd taken Aunty May. Absolutely bloody typical -- just when you wanted someone to be slow, they shredded the speed limits to get to you. Her eyes widened when Steve opened the door. "Wow! Hello, I'm Janey. Tip's keeper, I mean sister." "Nice to meet you, Janey. I'm Steve." He smiled and stuck out a hand for her to shake. Tip scowled as Janey held onto it way longer than was necessary. "She's my older sister," he said with emphasis. "My older, married sister." Tortoise Interruptus - 26

"I'm sure you've always taken very good care of him, Janey," Steve said, ignoring Tip altogether. She sighed. "I do my best, but as you can imagine, it's not easy. He just seems to have a talent for getting into trouble." "Oh, I'm sure he's got other talents. Deep down," Steve said, his eyes twinkling. "I am in the room, you know," Tip muttered sourly. "Did you bring my clothes?" he asked in a louder voice, with a pointed look at the carrier bag dangling, seemingly forgotten, from Janey's left wrist. "Here you go." She handed him the bag. "You can go in the bathroom to get changed. Steve and I will just talk amongst ourselves, won't we, Steve?" "It'll be a pleasure," Steve assured her. "Take your time, Tip." With as much dignity as he could muster whilst holding his borrowed trousers up with one hand, Tip stalked to the bathroom. Bloody typical. Next, she'd be coming out with all the embarrassing stories of his childhood, such as the time the neighbor's rabbit had burrowed under the fence to jump him in the garden and he'd wet himself in terror. He pulled off Steve's clothes with an odd mixture of relief and sadness. Okay, he knew he looked bloody ridiculous in them, but he wasn't yet ready to relinquish the entirely spurious feeling of closeness they gave him to Steve. Probably the nearest he'd be getting to the man -- Tip knew he had a certain superficial attraction for some men, but he doubted it'd be enough to carry them over all the setbacks he and Steve had been having. He was just pulling his shirt over his head when the door opened. "Janey?" he asked from underneath the fabric. Tortoise Interruptus - 27

"No, it's me," said Steve's mellow, mischievous voice. Tip swallowed as he struggled to get his shirt down to cover what he was painfully aware was a rather slender, pale chest. There was bugger all he could do about his legs, though, sticking out from his boxer shorts (and why did Janey have to bring the ones with SpongeBob on that she'd given him for Christmas?) like a couple of whitewashed matchsticks.... "I have seen it all before," Steve pointed out, a hint of laughter in his voice. Tip flushed, not sure what was embarrassing him most: his present semi-nudity, his earlier total nudity, or just the fact that Steve could quite clearly tell how embarrassed he was. "And if you'll recall, I didn't have any complaints," Steve added. "In fact, I rather liked the view." Now Tip had another cause for embarrassment, rapidly tenting the front of his boxers. "Um. Is Janey coming in, too?" "No, no. She's gone back to the café," Steve said, moving closer. "So, like I said, you can take your time getting into those clothes." "Oh!" said Tip, feeling a bit daft for his earlier jealousy. "I thought you meant--" He broke off as Steve's large, warm hand came to rest on his hip, curving round it possessively. "Never mind." "Don't worry, I don't," Steve rumbled, pulling him in closer. Tip whimpered as his cotton-clad cock pressed against Steve's muscular thigh. He barely retained enough presence of mind not to hump Steve's leg like a randy Jack Russell, especially when he felt Steve's erection boring into his belly like it was drilling for oil. Their lips met in a heated kiss... Tortoise Interruptus - 28

"Stephen? Are you there, dearie?" Aunty May's voice trilled at them through the closed door. "I've spoken to June, and she's expecting us there in half an hour!" As they broke apart, Tip sighed. "You know, it only takes fifteen minutes to get to Arreton from here. Twenty, tops," he said without a lot of hope. "Maybe, but it'd take us at least half an hour to get rid of Aunty May again." Steve gave a rueful smile and stepped back. "Come on. Let's get this over with, and then we'll have as much time as we want together." "Yes, but will you still fancy me after whatever your Aunty June does to me this time?" Tip muttered under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and allowed himself to be led out of the room. *** Tip felt his stomach curdle with unreasoning -- no, make that entirely reasoning -- dread as they approached Arreton Barns. The low-roofed buildings, with their jolly signs painted in Ye Olde Englishe Spellyng, seemed even more sinister in the bright noonday sunshine than they had in the murky twilight of his nightmares. Hiding in plain sight, wasn't that what they called it? He had a brief urge to run through the complex shouting "Run! Run while you still can!" to all the unsuspecting tourists who moved sluggishly from shop to shop. He jumped as Steve placed a hand on his arm. "Relax, Tip. We're just going to talk to her, okay? No spells unless you say so." "Promise?" "I promise." Tip wondered why he'd never realized before just how creepy this place was. The Blacksmythe's Forge Tortoise Interruptus - 29

displayed gruesome torture implements -- Tip didn't believe for one moment they were really plowshares -and the windows of the Draggon's Denne held macabre ceramic likenesses of all manner of unearthly beasts. "I'll catch you up, dears. This place does the loveliest little pottery dragons..." Aunty May's voice disappeared, along with the rest of her, into a rather twee-looking shop. Steve shrugged. "She does like her dragons," he said distractedly. "I think they remind her of her sister... Ah! Here's Aunty June's shop." They stepped into Tye & Dye, Steve with a confident stride and Tip with a sort of nervous scurry. There were no customers inside. Tip found himself looking nervously at the floor, expecting to see hordes of small, crawling insects who had, up to now, been enjoying their summer holidays on the Isle of Wight in rather more human form. For all he knew, he'd been committing mass murder with every step. Aunty June (or, as Tip had dubbed her in his head, the Wicked Witch of the Wight) looked much as she had the last time he'd seen her. Same iron-gray hair, ruthlessly subdued into a bun at the back of her head. Same incongruously bright tie-dyed clothing. Same sour expression on her face at the sight of Tip. "Oh, it's you, is it?" she muttered. "I suppose you want me to reverse the curse, eh?" "Um, whatever happened to poor old Aunty June, she's been so worried?" Tip hissed to Steve. "Speak up, young man!" she snapped, advancing on Tip menacingly. "If you've got something to say, then let's hear it!" Tip tried to take a step back, but found himself restrained by Steve's arm around his waist. For once, he didn't find it comforting. Tortoise Interruptus - 30

"Aunty June!" A broad smile on his face, Steve spoke in tones made heartier for the benefit of the hard of thinking. "Lovely to see you again!" "Hmmph." The witch folded her arms. "April's boy, is it? I always knew she'd go to the bad, hanging around with those mainland types. I told her, if you get yourself in the family way, don't expect me to help raise the brat." Steve's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew fonder, in a mock-exasperated, old-people-you-can't-take-themanywhere sort of way. "I'm April's grandson, Aunty. Stephen. We talked on the phone, remember? Now, we know you've been feeling awful about what happened to Tip--" "It's probably just that she meant to turn me into a slug. And then step on me," Tip muttered under his breath. "--so we've brought him along so you and he can have a little talk about reversing the spell you cast." "Um, actually I'm really not sure I want to--" Tip began. The witch huffed impatiently. "Well, let's get on with it, then, I haven't got all day." To Tip's horror, she pushed up her sleeves with dye-stained hands and started to mumble an incantation. "Wait!" he yelped, Steve's tightening arms around him making it come out more squeakily than he'd intended. "Er, Aunty?" Steve said, sounding uncertain for the first time since Tip had met him. "I did promise him that--" He broke off as the air seemed to crackle, and Tip was torn bodily from his arms by an unseen hand and dumped, hard, on the floor.

Tortoise Interruptus - 31

As metaphors for his life went, Tip thought groggily, it wasn't a bad one. Blinking to clear his vision, he hastily examined his limbs and torso. So far, so human. "Tip!" Steve threw himself to his knees and took Tip in his arms. "Are you all right? Aunty June," he said angrily, turning to face his aunt, "I really think you ought to stop this hair-trigger hexing. What have you done to him now?" Aunty June humphed, her arms folded. "There's gratitude. You come here wanting a curse removed, and now you're complaining about it!" She stomped off to the back of the shop, muttering as she went about the shortcomings of the younger generation. Tip was fairly sure he could hear something along the lines of "Waste of good magic, if you ask me," but he tried not to let it get to him. "Um, Steve?" Tip asked plaintively. "Can I go home now?" He paused. "I mean, I'm all right to go, aren't I? I haven't sprouted antlers or antennae or anything, have I?" Steve smiled, and stroked Tip's hair. "You look as adorable as ever." Tip felt a melting sensation deep inside, and tried to remember that he was actually rather annoyed with Steve for bringing him here to be hexed. He opened his mouth to speak -- and then jumped as the shop bell rang. Aunty May bustled in, her arms full of brightly wrapped packages. "Oh," she said cheerily, "have I missed anything?" *** Leaving Aunty May, who inexplicably wanted to spend some time with her sister, back in the shop, Tip and Steve headed back to the car park in an awkward Tortoise Interruptus - 32

silence. Now that Steve had finally realized Tip wasn't best pleased with him, he was keeping his distance. Tip was dismayed to discover that was much worse than the annoyance itself. Once they'd climbed into the car, Steve looked at Tip. "So, er, where to?" Tip sighed. Suddenly he felt very, very tired. "I think I'd like to go home. To the café -- I've got a room in the farmhouse. You know, Janey and Mike's place." As Steve nodded sadly, Tip discovered a whole new seam of self-loathing in the worked-out mine of his soul. "Or," he found himself saying, "we could go for lunch together somewhere? I haven't had a proper meal in days." Right on cue, his stomach rumbled. Tip made a mental note to reward it with tiramisu. And steak. And chocolate, and sausages, and everything, in fact, except for bloody lettuce. Steve brightened instantly, and Tip found his own mood joyfully following suit. "Excellent idea! Can you recommend anywhere?" "What, on the wages Janey pays me?" Tip grinned. "The closest I get to a meal out is the specials at the café when they're getting to their sell-by date." "Well, there's a place near here I've heard good things about -- the Pointer Inn -- although apparently it can be hard to get a table if you don't book ahead. Still, no harm in trying, is there?" In Tip's experience, there could be plenty of harm in trying, if your definition of harm included embarrassment so acute that spontaneous combustion from shame became a real possibility. He'd reckoned, however, without the power of Steve's smile, which could apparently reduce restaurant staff to jelly and produce empty tables as if by magic. Tortoise Interruptus - 33

Tip frowned. If it was magic, he wanted nothing to do with it. "Having trouble choosing?" Steve asked, turning the full wattage of that devastating smile in Tip's direction. "I'll just have what you're having," Tip said dreamily, barely registering his own words. Sanity returned fifteen minutes later, as Tip toyed with a starter that was almost bigger than he was, and tried not to think about the main course. "So, when this place was recommended to you, did they praise the food's quality or its quantity?" he asked cynically. "Both, actually," Steve said, licking his lips in a way that should be illegal in a public place. "Are you going to eat that?" There was, Tip discovered, something undeniably erotic about watching a man eat. Or at least, there was about watching Steve eat. Something about the unabashed pleasure on his face as he savored the onion gravy, or was it the masterful way he carved his liver and bacon? At any rate, Tip found himself staring mesmerized at his companion, his own meal entirely forgotten. "I thought you were hungry," Steve said with a grin. "You know, this is delicious." "It is, isn't it?" Tip replied dreamily, making patterns in the gravy with his fork. "You know, the ancient Roman physician Galen thought the liver was the seat of all passions." Steve purred suggestively. "Let me help you out with that," he added, leaning over to spear Tip's liver. "Um. I really don't think I'm going to want dessert," Tip said, abandoning all pretense of eating. "Can we go? Now?" *** Tortoise Interruptus - 34

The road back to Newchurch had never seemed so long, winding and insanely full of tourists insisting on traveling at twenty miles an hour. Steve drove with restraint both commendable and, in Tip's considered opinion, frustrating. "Does your Aunty June drive?" he asked. Steve braked good-naturedly as the driver in front dithered over a turning, then decided not to risk it. "Yes, why?" "Then I'm surprised the island isn't entirely populated by tortoises. Actually, I wonder if anyone's ever checked whether the number of tourists departing by ferry equals the number that arrived? She could have been decimating the population for years." "I think there might have been something about it in the papers by now if so," Steve said in a reassuring tone. "People do tend to complain about it if their relatives go missing." "Probably silenced by agents of the English Tourist Board, ruthlessly suppressing anything that might be bad for business. Or maybe there's a confederation of witches, covering up for each other..." A thought had finally struck Tip like a clump of wet seaweed. "Um, you know how your Aunty June's a witch? And your Aunty May, too? So does that mean you're a, a manwitch?" Steve grinned. "You make me sound like a particularly meaty baguette -- it's not just a sandwich, it's a man-wich." Despite his worries, the imagery made Tip gulp. He couldn't deny a powerful urge to get his lips round Steve's meaty baguette... Recollecting himself, Tip gave Steve a stern look. "You haven't answered the question." Tortoise Interruptus - 35

"Oh -- no, I'm afraid it only passes down the female line. I've got about as much magic in me as David Blaine's boxers." He sounded regretful, so Tip made sure his sigh of relief was inaudible. "So, er, what do you do, Steve?" Tip asked. "Honey." "You want me to call you Honey?" It sounded a bit American, but Tip couldn't say he had any strong objections. He'd draw the line at Pumpkin, however. That was just wrong, on so many levels. "I mean," Steve went on, "I produce honey. Well, not me personally. The bees tend to take care of that side of things. But I harvest it, put it in jars, and market it. We're doing rather well, actually." Tip stared. "You're a beekeeper?" "Well, on an industrial scale, but yes, essentially that's what I am." Steve grinned. "I hope you're not allergic or something." It was fate, Tip decided. Destiny had brought him this man, and if he had to be a tortoise for a while, well, it was a price worth paying. "No! No, actually I've always had a bit of a thing for beekeeping. Do you..." Tip cleared his throat as his voice went a little hoarse. "Do you wear all the gear? The protective suit, and the veil, and everything?" "Oh, yes. And the gloves, of course. I've got a pair of sheepskin leather gauntlets -- I like to be able to feel what I'm doing, if you know what I mean." Steve's smile turned wicked. "I could show you them some time, if you don't mind getting on a ferry. You could even try things on if you like." Tip's throat was almost too dry to speak. Leather gauntlets... veils... "Drive. Faster," he managed to croak out. Tortoise Interruptus - 36

Still grinning, Steve slammed the car into gear and overtook three carloads of tourists at once. *** Janey and Mike were clearing tables as Tip and Steve reached Tiptree's Treats. "Tip!" she called out. "Are you all sorted, now?" "I, um... tell you later," Tip garbled out. "We're, um..." "Busy," Steve put in firmly, dragging him across the room by one hand. "Extremely busy. Important matters to, ah, attend to." Janey cocked an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. "Well, I suppose you'd better go and attend to them, then. Try not to disturb the customers." "Hope your little problem doesn't crop up!" Mike called, and just as they got to the stairs, Tip distinctly heard him whistle a couple of bars of "Bestiality's Best, Boys." They stumbled into Tip's bedroom with barely the presence of mind to close the door. Still, if Janey or Mike wandered by and got an eyeful, they had only themselves to blame. They'd had fair warning. "Finally," Steve groaned. "No aunties, no sisters, no interruptions." He ripped off his shirt, and as that magnificent chest was bared, Tip's knees managed a little magic of their own, transforming bone and cartilage into jelly. Fortunately Steve caught him on the way down, once again swinging Tip up into muscular arms as if he weighed no more than a fainting Hollywood damsel. Which, as it happened, was pretty much the case, but Tip had never been able to view it as an advantage until now. Every muscle in his body went blissfully limp, Tortoise Interruptus - 37

making the contrast with a certain part of his anatomy even more dramatic. Steve laid Tip reverently down on the bed. "I can't wait to get you naked again," he growled, undoing Tip's jeans one-handed while leaning down to press hot, breathy kisses into his throat. Tip moaned, rational speech entirely beyond him -and whimpered as the kisses disappeared. Before he could find the words to protest, he found his jeans being dragged off his hips, taking his boxer shorts with them. The friction of their passing was torture to his needy cock, but he had no time to dwell on it as Steve was lifting him up to pull off his shirt. "God, yes," Steve murmured, one hand roving all over Tip's body, stroking and kneading, while the other worked frantically at his belt buckle. What was more, Steve's trousers slid off with nary an interruption to the caresses; Tip had to admire a man who could multi-task like that. Through a supreme effort of will, Tip managed to lift spaghetti-like arms and wrap them around Steve's neck in an attempt to pull the man closer. Despite his efforts having more of the force of a gentle hint than any actual, well, force, it worked. Steve lay down beside him, the bedsprings creaking a startled warning. Steve's cock felt like a red-hot poker searing Tip's thigh, branding him for Steve's own. Tip gasped as Steve nuzzled into his throat once more and resumed kissing and sucking. The kisses moved slowly, sensually downward. Tip was in agonies, desperate for that mouth to reach its ultimate destination. "Please..." he mewled, and was rewarded with yet more teasing until finally, finally, soft lips closed over the head of his cock. Tip's head reeled with the ecstasy of it. Steve's mouth was doing wicked, wanton things to him. "Don't stop!" Tortoise Interruptus - 38

he panted. He was overloaded with sensation; he felt light-headed, almost as if he were underwater. Wait a minute... Tip's cry of alarm turned to a sort of embarrassed cluck, and all ecstasy stopped abruptly as he very literally retreated back into his shell. After he'd wobbled back and forth, see-sawing on his carapace, for a couple of queasy moments, Tip stuck his head out once more and glared at his lover as best he could across the expanse of his plastron. "Ah," Steve said, looking a bit sheepish and finally reaching out to turn him over. "Looks like Aunty June's spells really aren't up to scratch anymore. Still," he said, sprawling on the bed and pumping his cock idly in a way that left Tip seething with frustration, "look on the bright side." There was a bright side? Tip hissed in a way that he hoped expressed just how dubious he was about that. "Well, if half the time I take you out for dinner you lose your appetite, and the rest of the time you end up turning into a tortoise, it looks like you're going to be a really cheap date." Tip clucked with the derision that comment deserved. "And," Steve added with a winning smile, "what with all this coitus interruptus, just think how amazing it's going to be when we finally manage to go all the way." There was that, Tip thought resignedly. Bowing to the inevitable, he lumbered up Steve's hip and onto his groin. If nothing else, he was willing to bet Steve had never had a plastron job before.

Tortoise Interruptus - 39