"Sorry about that," the elderly farmer who turned up to retrieve his sheep told Gene and Alex as he shepherded the animal into his lorry, blissfully ignorant of the scene earlier that day when the sheep had been discovered. "She's a right one fer gettin' away, this one, aren't yer, Dolly?"

Gene, desperate to get himself and his new wife back to bed, glared silently as Alex tried desperately to distract the elderly man from her husband's daggers, chattering about nonsense as the sheep watched smugly from the lorry. Gene gave it a middle finger behind the farmer's back.

"Meh," the sheep seemed to reply with a cocky bleat, its tongue protruding from its mouth. Gene turned the middle finger into a V-sign, holding both hands up; Alex tried and failed to surreptitiously kick him.

"Ba-a-a-a-aaa."

"Shit-eater," Gene hissed under his breath, turning his best Gene Genie death glare on the sheep. It belched nonchalantly.

"Dirty bastard. Filthy little bugger. Bloody sheep-shaggin' son of a-"

"Thank you for coming to get it so quickly, sir," Alex said hurriedly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Gene mouthed increasingly dirty obscenities at the animal. "I'm getting a bit cold, so I'll say goodbye- come on, Gene, things to do!"

Like you, if you'll only stop swearing at that sheep!

She grabbed Gene's arm to distract him from his slanging match with the sheep, all but tugging him back into the cottage as the sheep bleated in amusement, staring serenely out at the couple as the lorry drove away and Gene hurriedly stuck his fingers up as one last goodbye.

"Gene, behave!" Alex hissed, plastering a fake smile on to wave at the farmer as he departed. Gene simply lifted the other middle finger in the sheep's direction.

"Get inside before he realises you've been cussing his sheep," Alex chided, yanking the door open and shoving Gene through. He raised his eyebrows as she slammed the door behind her, inadvertantly forcing him into the corner of the hall.

"Dominant, Bolls? Works fer yer..."

"I'll show you dominant if you like," Alex muttered, the sight of Gene ruffled and backed into a corner doing wonders for her downstairs department. He raised his eyebrows, yelping and squirming as she grabbed his jaw, carefully but still roughly forcing his head back, only quieting when she started licking and nibbling at his neck, her other hand rubbing his growing erection through his trousers.

"Christ... not that dominant, yer 'urtin' me," Gene gasped, tickling her to get her off; she squealed, trying to bat his hands away, laughing so hard her sides began to hurt. Damn him! I was trying to be dominant! Ah well, go with the flow, Alex, it can't be that bad...

"OK, you win. I've lost my dominance," she laughed, tugging on his hand to pull him through into the living room. "You can do what you like with me."

Gene grinned, taking both her hands in a romantic gesture Alex would never have thought the Manc Lion capable of and easing her onto the sofa, bending over her to capture her lips in his.

"I can think o' a few ways in which yer can show me yer obedience..."

The sheep-cussing was very quickly forgotten.

"This means nothing to me, this means nothing to me, oh Vienna..."

Molly dropped her pen onto her homework in exasperation, the scratchy tones of 'Vienna' grating from Shaz's Walkman making it impossible for her to concentrate. She idly doodled on her mother's desk, attempting to solve a page of equations and trying to ignore Ray boasting about what he'd done with her maths teacher in what he fondly imagined were quiet, secretive tones.

"An' then I told 'er about this position I tried out wi' a bird back in Manchester once, an' she seemed very keen ter..."

"Oh, shut up, Ray," Molly groaned, picking up an old biro of her mother's and throwing it at the back of Ray's head. Not only did she get him right on the nape of the neck, but the pen then went down his shirt; the group Ray had assembled around him burst out laughing as he yelped, ferreting down the back of his jumper to try and get the pen out.

"You get yer 'ead down an' do yer 'omework, eh?" he growled at her, clutching the unfortunate biro hard in one hand. Molly just smiled, holding up the completed page of equations.

"Done. Now, unless you know anything about Othello and would like to share some wisdom with me, I've got English homework to be getting on with. And then German translations. So keep your imaginings about my maths teacher to a minimum, would you?"

Ray sneered.

"German translations? What, the Krauts bomb us day an' night fer years an' then they expect our kids ter learn their language? Bastards," he growled, turning back to his little posse as they nodded in agreement. Molly rolled her eyes. The Neanderthal strikes again. How do Mum and Dad put up with him?

"You know, the British killed approximately one hundred and fifty thousand Germans in Dresden alone during the Second World War? All the casualties in Britain totalled approximately sixty seven thousand. Doesn't really compare, does it? British planes bombed schools, hospitals. Hundreds of dead children laid out in the wreckage of their school. Think how many mourning parents that is. Parents exactly like the ones you deal with when their children have been murdered. And those children were innocents who simply got caught up in the War, solely because they were German. They did nothing to deserve to die. So why don't you shut your mouth, DS Carling, and start acting your age instead of like a spoilt toddler?"

Molly spun round, having put Ray firmly in his place, and snatched up her pen again, determinedly staring down at the page of German translations. Ray opened his mouth, evidently ready to taunt her some more, but at that second Chris burst into CID, car keys dangling from his hand.

"Armed blag at a chemist's. Yer in charge, Ray."

"God help us all," Molly muttered, still pissed off at Ray for his racist jibes. The DS gave her one more sneering look and stalked out, yelling at several officers to follow him.

Just because yer DI Drake's daughter, doesn' mean yer above me. I'll show you, Molly Drake.

"Yer daft bint."

"You made me drop it!"

"No I bloody well did not!"

"You snuck up behind me and startled me! You made me drop it."

"Yer knew I was there."

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Pass me the cloths."

"Don't know where they are."

"Then go and find them. You're a detective."

"Christ, it stinks!"

"Yes, Gene. Congratulations. Where are those cloths? We can't leave it there."

"Why are we arguin'? I said I was in charge 'ere."

"Control freak."

"Yer weren't complainin' earlier."

"Well, I... oh, shut up, Gene, and give me a hand, if you want me to have done this this side of midnight!"

Gene picked up a stack of towels and passed them to Alex, sitting back in his chair and shifting his coat over his crotch.

Alex rolled her eyes at him, mopped up the car shampoo on the floor, and then turned and bent over the Quattro again, knickers straining to cover her, breasts tipping out of her bra.

I'll keep my side of the bargain, Gene, and then you can keep yours...

She washed the Audi with slow, circular wipes, smooth and alluring, watching her husband all the while out of the corner of her eye, loving the visible effect she was having on him; Gene's face was darkened with desire, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip adorably in an attempt to keep himself together, his hands firmly over his groin. She winked at him, bending even further to wash the bonnet, her bottom swaying mesmerisingly in time with her swipes, the soap suds on her thighs driving him wild. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to drag her off to the bedroom and ravish her there, but this was her game now, and she was going to play it the way she wanted- which was to drive Gene to the very brink of what he could cope with, and then let the barriers break.

Slowly, alluringly, she slipped one hand round to the clasp of her bra, popping one small metal hook, watching him like a hawk all the while; his gaze was torn between her fingers and her eyes, her incredible body and the porcelain orbs dancing with laughing wickedness, her soul and her being.

One cup peeled off, and then the other.

Gene bit down so hard he drew blood.

"Drop the gun."

"Who's going to make me? You and whose army?"

"I'm police, mate. I'm armed. I'm in control. Drop the gun."

"Yeah right. All talk and no words, that's what you are. I'll show you- pig!"

BANG.

"NO!"

A/N: What a wonderful cliffhanger there! I'm so sorry about the delay in updating, I've had such awful writer's block I was half convinced my poor little muse rabbit had died. But she's back and munching on lettuce, so you're alright. Please remember to review! Jazzola