A/N: Sorry it took a while - I just worked two eighty hour weeks and it's not good for getting out chapters! I also apologise to anyone who's only in it for the clothing-based porn - this chapter's a bit plotty! Having said that, I spent a considerable amount of time in front of the washing machine once I'd written this today, and I have to say, my perspective was altered. So maybe it's not entirely useless.
As always, thank-you for your reviews, ALL of them (Vogon Jelts!), they are what stopped me going straight to bed and made me write instead! Glad you like the sex, Euripides, it is more challenging to write, but it feels like Arthur might not mind so much, knowing it was done like this(and it's more fun!). Shadow Valkyrie, I know it's a bit cheeky to ask, but would you mind letting me know (if you know yourself!),which Ford it sounds like to you, because I get sudden flashes of panic thinking I've written something OOC, then realise it's not; it's just David-Ford, not Geoff-Ford, or it's Book-Ford talking in a voice all of his own...anyway, I'm rambling...sorry : )
Chapter4 - Lying
'The footsteps are coming closer and the two bodies under me are not making a move. I think they are too exhausted to be aware of anything. Certainly, the pyjamas are out cold. I don't suppose they'll really be awake for the rest of the day.
'A hand has landed softly on the very edge of my bottom hem. Another hand has grasped me carefully by the shoulder.
'A third hand has hold of my left sleeve. What am I to do? I shall be removed from my owner, exposing him to these people, and I have no way of stopping it. I am not sufficiently wedged under him to hang on. Now the hands are pulling me upwards, I am being lifted away from my owner. Oh misery! My apologies, my owner. The other end of my bottom hem is still touching Him, and He is not moving. I am sure He realises He is discovered, I sense that He is awake. I suspect He hopes that by staying extremely still he may remain undetected. My hem sways and touches our friend. He too is unmoving. This may be sleep – I cannot tell – or it may be that my owner is lying on him and holding him very tightly about the middle and refusing to let him give them away.'
"So this is where all the action was, hey? Wowee!"
"Wowee." 'This second delivery is flat, quite unlike the first. It must be the other…No, I have it, it is the two-headed gentleman. My owner will not be pleased, He has a particular antipathy to this being.'
"Hey, Ford, Ford, Ford."
"Mmnnurgh." 'Our friend's hand is waving around, brushing past me, trying to catch hold of me and failing, as his palm faces away from me. I am being dropped, I fall in a heap onto their two bodies, causing my owner to jump with surprise. Our friend grasps the middle of my back, drawing me around his shoulders and pulling me away from my owner. I am sorry, but this won't do. I am all for sharing, but ownership is sacred.'
"You choose the laundry to get it on with Monkey-man? Well, Zarquon knows he needs washing. Make yourself decent and come to the bridge, I've got something really wild to show you."
"What?" 'This word is barely audible, but it is probably the only word he could possibly form in the circumstances, so it is easy enough to work out. There is a pause: evidently this other gentleman does not know 'what'.'
"I've, uh, I've found us a planet full of…girls. And…drinks. Really strong drinks. Really friendly girls." 'This gentleman is warming to his theme.' "Come up to the bridge and take a look."
'This piece of information seems to have revitalised our friend. He is pushing me back off his shoulders and I snuggle gratefully into my owner once more. The gentleman's footsteps are leaving the room and we three are alone again. My owner has raised his head,'
"You're not going?" 'This comes out somewhere uncomfortably in between a moan and a statement of fact.'
"Why not?" 'Genuine surprise. He really doesn't know. My owner is shaking with hurt and rage and I am too bunched up to soothe him. The pyjama top has even roused itself sufficiently to ask why the world is shaking…now it has passed out again'
"Why do you want a planet with drink and girls, Ford?"
"Because I want to get drunk and dance with girls." 'Now let's be honest, there really is no answer to that. He has stood up and appears to have recovered his energy, for his hands are upon me again, grasping my shoulders as he speaks.'
"Coming, Arthur?"
"No." 'A 'no' full of venom and resignation, a combination I might once have deemed impossible, but then, my owner has always had the capacity to surprise me. I am being lifted in the air: Put Me DOWN! Ah, I am being flapped out towards my owner's feet and laid oh so tenderly over Him, so that I cover Him neck to ankles as He is curled up under me. I let my collar sink into His hair and send out a little wave of thanks to our friend – who misinterprets it as a bolt of static and jumps back from us.'
"Have a snooze, Arthur, I'll be back later."
'An acute stab of emotional pain has just shot through me, my owner is terribly sad and there is nothing I can…wait, maybe there is. I am attempting to rouse the pyjamas again. The top is still recording for me, but it is on autopilot. I stretch out my perception, a faint consciousness reaches me to our right, it is our friend's blazer. It is dozing and not very talkative anyway, but if I pester it enough… ah, it is giving in. I am instructing it to pass on a message to our friend's other clothes when it is convenient so to do. I hope that their combined efforts may be able to bring him back to my owner. Speaking of whom… He is making an effort to get up. The pyjamas softly moan as He pulls them tentatively back up to His waist, covering up again. I am about to be put on again, oh well, maybe I'll get a wash tom…No, I am being removed again, He is making thoroughly disgusted noises and honestly I am not surprised. He is bundling me up with very little ceremony and pushing me through the door of the washing machine ("Thank-you, share and enjoy"). I am catching on the rubber seal all the way through; it hurts, but I am too concerned about my owner to care. The door has shut and all is silence. It opens again, the pyjamas have entered the machine. They are trying to work out where they are, but failing miserably. The door shuts again. I wonder what my owner is wearing. Surely he is not going to sit there wearing only the underpants? …The pyjamas are telling me 'no'. Apparently, before he took off the bottoms, he donned the blazer and wrapped a laundry bag around his waist. I can't help feeling that this must be a sight to behold.
The cycle is starting. Somehow this links us with the rest of the ship, something to do with the way the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Genuine People Personality machines all interconnect on this ship. I am aware of voices: Eddie the computer firing out cheery greetings. The doors, thanking…my owner! Oh, I may track his progress round the ship if I concentrate, but it is so difficult: I am being soaked in soothing jets of warm water, soap bubbles form and burst around me, leaving tingling sensations as they gently lift the dirt from my fibres. The drum is spinning and I wrap myself carefully around the pyjamas, twisting my sleeves with theirs so that they will not be frightened by the motion. The drum has stopped, we sink to the bottom, lazing in the frothy water. Now it turns the other way, unwinding me from the pyjamas, which cry out, but are saved before I must let go completely as the drum stops again. So many times we repeat this, as we get cleaner and cleaner, the replaced water becoming more and more pleasant just to lie in. The pyjama top has somehow inveigled its way into me and is caressing the inside of my breast fabric with its wet collar, leaving me helplessly aroused. The washing machine knows. It always has this effect on those of us who are washed. It lets us lie at the bottom of its drum, savouring the silence and the warmth and the bittersweet separation from my owner.
'Now it must start up again, the soap powder is no longer needed, I am clean. Fresh jets of rinsing water cleanse the last of it from me as we head for the spin. The pyjamas really do not like this bit. The bottoms have wound their left cuff into my pocket in anticipation and I am trying to let it slip out without offending them, as I do not wish to be ripped if they are pulled suddenly away from me. The top has spread itself through me, we shall be flattened together, here it comes…
'Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh.
'…the spin is over and we are tight to the walls of the drum, the bottoms stretched across me, wincing as the force of gravity starts to pull their fibres out of the pattern of holes that covers the drum surface. I do not suffer in this way, having too thick a weave, but I can feel the lumps as they slide past me, and the relief of the top that it was inside me and therefore did not suffer. The top is shuffling its threads around, driving me mad with the sensation as the drum slowly turns, letting us unwind and become a damp heap at the bottom. I can feel a peak of excitement as the final spin whirls us once again, but more gently this time, then clicks to a stop. I am so entangled with the pyjamas that their very thoughts are a part of me, but I am trying to prise my concentration away from the comfortable pleasures of the pyjama top and back to the voices I can perceive through the machine network.'
"Tell me where they are!" 'That is the voice of my owner. I hear it through the aural circuits of Eddie. He sounds very agitated, the doors are all clamouring to be heard,'
"Don't tell him Eddie, he has been very rude to us all the way round…"
"Hey, guys, you know I can't lie to him, share and enjoy, yes?" 'Grumbling assent from the doors.'
"Okay, those two other guys are in the galley, and could I ask you to be a little nicer to the doors on your way through the ship?" 'Cheery as ever, but the doors are pleased. I can hear them sighing and thanking my owner all the way, though it seems that He storms through, paying them no heed. Now He has reached the kitchen and I can hear Him through the Nutri-Matic. No, actually, the first thing I hear is an almost silent exclamation mark on the part of the two-headed gentleman. Then my owner speaks,'
"Right. That's it. I want an answer. Why did you do that? Why do you insist on dragging him away just when…well…" 'He has chickened out of actually saying it. I'm not surprised; it was a little unorthodox.'
"Hey, Monkey-man, nice get-up." 'It is very hard to tell whether he is serious or not. Given the conversations I have had with his clothes, I suspect he is.'
"Never mind my clothes. I happen to be washing the only ones I managed to salvage from my planet. That I have those few is thanks entirely to that man…lying…face down…on the floor…with a smashed glass in his hand…looking like…hell…what have you done to him?" 'That smile I mentioned earlier as belonging to our friend manifests itself in this, his fellow Betelgeusian as more of a cheeky and slightly coy grin: a grin that knows its owner has misbehaved just a little. It is powerful enough to reach me across the network and send a shiver down my fibres that the pyjama top thinks is for itself. This causes me to have to pause in my eavesdropping to let a shiver run the other way, before I shake myself and let my cuff fall on the pyjama top to quiet it.
"What. Did. You. Do?" 'My owner's voice is full of menace.'
"Hey, what? Stay cool, Ape-man. I just gave him those drinks I promised him."
"I thought you said it was a planet, with girls."
"Did I?" 'I have never heard anyone sound so perfectly innocent, but it has put venom back into my owner's speech,'
"Yes. 'I have found a planet with drink and girls', you said, and off he runs to follow you. That's bad enough, but I don't understand why you're still here. What did you give him to drink?"
"We-ell. I might just have let him have a couple of rather strong Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters."
"Two?"
"…well maybe three. He's having a great time. I know."
"Why did you lie to him?" 'My owner is getting to the nub of the problem.'
"I didn't lie to him. I just discovered I might have lied to me, afterwards. I mean, I told myself there was this planet. Too bad I'm unreliable like that. Turned out not to be quite true, so to make it up to him I…"
"No. No. Definitely no. I think I know what happened. You didn't want him to be there with me. I heard you. You were jealous, weren't you?" 'There is a knowing tone about His voice now…'
"You wanted to get him out, so you told him that cock and bull story, knowing full well that, for whatever bizarre reason, Ford has an insatiable need for drink and…girls. And you tricked him into drinking too much and now… I should like an apology."
"Say what? You want me to apologise to you? What for?"
"For stealing Ford away from me when you have no need whatsoever for him yourself. For incapacitating him just because you're not getting it from Trillian, who, I might add, you pretty much stole from me in the first place." 'He must be angry to say that. He's usually fairly prudish about such things.'
"Hey! Who says I'm not getting it from Trill? It's none of your business Earth-man, but things happen to be extremely hoopy with her at the moment."
"Then why, pray, are you so jealous of me and…and Ford?" 'He is sinking into embarrassment again, I hope he can hold out, it would humiliating for him to lose his grip now.'
"I'm not jealous, I just don't think you deserve him. I do."
"Are you, or are you not, related? And are you, or are you not, involved with Trillian? Don't you think it's a little greedy to want two people?" 'Uh oh. A chill has swept through the room so strongly that the air-conditioning system has adjusted itself to pump out a little more heat.'
"Count the heads, Monkey-man." 'A voice like ice clinging to an angry polar-bear.' "You are talking to Zaphod Beeblebrox."
"Very impressive. Two heads need two playthings do they?" 'The dangerous ground is bringing out a streak of hitherto unsuspected bravado in my owner.'
"Hey, listen. You are on my ship…"
"Your stolen sh…"
"MY ship, where my semi-cousin is very welcome and you are here under sufferance because he likes you. Now if I happen to feel that something needs doing, I'll do it. So go and have a nice cold shower and a little chat with Marvin or something and we'll all be much happier. 'My owner is definitely not satisfied by this solution.' "Why do you care anyway? I thought you were still sore with me about Trill."
"Because I lo…" '…Ach, no, he has chickened out again.' "How did you know, anyway?"
"Know what?"
"That we were there."
"Oh, I was just checking out the security cameras. There was nothing important on the news…"
"Nothing about you, you mean." 'My owner mutters almost inaudibly.'
"So I had a look around. Trillian was fully clothed, so I kept looking until I found something happening in the laundry. Then I sauntered on down."
'There is a long pause. It seems my owner has no response to this. I think the very idea of being watched is too much for him. It is not something I am too pleased about myself. I am sure it is not a thing that should be watched by outsiders. My owner is making little strangled noises. They are slowly resolving into speech.
"Did you…en…joy yourself?"
"Watching you and Ford? No. You were a complete sight. And since there was too much clothing in the way, I thought I'd just come down and stop it. Or join in if I was invited."
"What!" 'I imagine He just nearly hit the ceiling.'
"Not that I'm interested in you, but my semi-cousin is always good for a laugh." 'I wonder if that is an insult? There are moans coming from near floor level. Our friend must be stirring.'
"Hey, Ford baby, you've got a better head than I gave you credit for, you should have been out a couple of hours at least."
"I knew it!" 'That is my owner on high frequency again.'
"Wuh…wasssat th, thr, three Paan Galaflapt, galactri…wait. Galacteric bargle gaster…gargle ga…blaskers?"
"Did you drink three, baby?" 'That tone of innocence again.'
"Three. Ther…eeeeeeeee…" 'He has tailed off. I hope he is alright, my owner is making worried noises. I can hear sliding, slipping noises, now the crash of a chair and the sound of shoes being used haphazardly on linoleum flooring. I think our friend may be trying to get up.'
"Well give him a hand, Monkey." 'I can almost hear my owner biting back a sharp retort about 'some people'. He is grunting with the effort of pulling our friend to his feet. I wish I were there to help him.
'The door of the washing machine has opened and outside sounds rush in, obliterating the machine-relay.'
"…planet and what do they tell me to do? Go and put the washing into the drier. Oh yes, very taxing, that. I'll just work out the exact spatial positioning of every atom of the clothing and dirty water and plot its relationship to the central axis of the ship first shall I? At least I might use a thousandth of a percentage of my brain doing that. Oh yes, and you can separate a couple of garments that became too friendly in the wash while you're at it. As if they knew. Friendly, bah. Don't talk to me about friends. I'll just put them in the drier and hope the effort kills me…Ah well, better luck next…"
'The drier door has shut on his final words. He knows about us in a way the humanoids do not. It is a little embarrassing to be mentioned in despatches like that though. It's not my fault the pyjamas were still overexcited from earlier. However, I don't think anyone was listening. Now the drier is starting up. It hums to us as it spins, I think it would like someone to talk to, but it is above talking to us, so it just hums. My skirts are all bunched up, they will not dry properly like this. I am trying to get the pyjama bottoms to stretch me out as they pass, but they have become giggly now and will not listen properly. I can hear through the machines again. If only the drier would stop humming, I could hear more clearly. I can only catch odd words, most of them are not making sense…'
"…s'luvly, isn't h…ic…"
"…if he is, but blast you I…"
"…little more hoopy about…"
"…really…um…eggshell, excell, ent..egg, ent. No, really…"
"…that true Ape man?…"
"…know that I…"
"…about it, you know, but hey, it might be interesting to…
"…definitely not."
"…what I wash…about to do Arthr…er…"
"…with girls. And drink…"
"…Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Girullls, yes…"
"…with me, so I thought it was a little unfair to…"
"…don't think like you, Monkey-man…"
'At last, the drier has got bored and stopped humming. Maybe they will make more sense now.'
"Zaph, Zaph…you know I only want to d-dance withuh girls doncha? See, th'nice to dan, he, ance with…I wanted Ar…Arthuurr to have an ap, puch, so's I could have hi, when we get back." 'Maybe not, then. He is hiccupping and still seems to be sliding around, though I think, from the noises he is making, that my owner is still supporting him.'
"You wanted to sleep with Monkey-man again? Hey, you must be good. I've known Ford a long time and he knows about some things, and this is one of them."
"Get off me." 'My owner sounds quite vehement. Whatever this gentleman is doing, it must be inappropriate.'
"Put Ford down, he's no good to you like that anyway." 'There are struggling noises. A thump. A sound like someone whose vocal chords remember that a fall like that should produce pain, but whose brain is too far out of it to back them up.'
"No I…That's not fair. Two heads is an unfair advantage…This is not…Get your hands off me…and that one…" 'My owner seems to be struggling against possession by this gentleman. The drier is working its magic and I am becoming befuddled with static. I can still hear, just…'
"No. Za…Zaphod, no. He's mine. Gerrofim…" 'That is our friend. He seems to be regaining some sort of tenuous grip on the situation. I hear…'
"But Ford, baby, just let me…"
"No. Mine."
"Whoo-oah." 'That seems to be my owner falling to the floor, judging by the closely-following thud. I can hear something, like a linen laundry bag crackling on linoleum and something else…the sound of our friend's jacket muttering, as if under duress, to our friend's other clothes. It is telling them not to let our friend leave my owner. It is a little unnecessary now, but I am grateful that it passed on the message. "Let go Ford, your breath smells terrible."
"Can't, I'm'tached."
"What? Oh. I don't know what's happened here…keep still, you're making it worse. Your jumper is…I don't know, all the loose threads on your blazer cuff seem to be caught up, they're almost woven into your jumper." 'Zarquon bless those clothes, they are doing more than I could ever have asked of them, that's no mean feat they have performed.' "Hang on, I'll take it off." 'No!'
"No. Don'bother. Jus'stay there, I wanna hug." 'The drier cycle has stopped. I am dry and feeling very sleepy. The pyjamas have calmed down again and their fibres exchange crackles of static with me, making me gasp with pleasure, I love that robot for not using anti-static sheets. He has opened the door again and I can no longer hear my owner."
"…down my left-hand side, and still they expect me to haul washing around. Come with me, laundry. I'll take you back to you owner. Not that it should really be my job, but since I'm the only one around here who isn't trying to have recreational sex with someone else, I suppose it comes down to me in the end. For all the thanks I get…" 'And I am falling into slumber…'
Will Ford in his delicate condition be able to save Arthur from the clutches of Zaphod, or will Zaphod just leave them to it anyway? What does Marvin really think about the onboard activities at the moment? Will the pyjamas and dressing gown be reunited with their owner in short order, or will the jumper and blazer have become inextricably linked by the time they arrive? Will Ford remember anything when he sobers up? Will Arthur forgiveFord for abandoning him? Will Ford forgive Zaphod? Why do clothes get so horny in the wash and is there anything we can do about it as responsible owners? I'll have a think about it, please review to help me!
