Copyright Oggbashan June 2004
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Part One is 'Brigit'; Part Two is 'Brigit Too'.
Introduction to Part Three.
I had met Brigit the Irish earth goddess. She had used me subtly first to change the lives of many oppressed and neglected women in our community and then with Deirdre to stop a refuse tip despoiling the countryside. She had rewarded me both times and had brought Deirdre to me. Now we both worshipped Brigit frequently. 'Worshipping Brigit' can best be done with a man's tongue between a woman's legs. Brigit and Deirdre had made me suffer by teasing me about my inability to satisfy either of them. I had no hope of ever satisfying Brigit: no man could however fit and strong. When Brigit introduced me to Deirdre I was far from fit. A year later, after intensive training from both of them, I was a new man sometimes capable of satisfying Deirdre – for a few hours.
* * * * *
I was sitting at my desk actually working at my own business. What I do is irrelevant to my account of my interaction with Brigit the goddess and now Deirdre. They seem to think I do nothing but sort out community problems for them. I do have to earn money and I'm quite good at it. That is just as well. Sorting out the refuse tip problem cost me ten thousand pounds. Brigit told me it would be worth it. It was. It brought me Deirdre and now we had been married for... three months and two days.
Please don't think I'm a slow worker. It hadn't taken me nine months to set a wedding date. They both insisted that I had to be fit enough to satisfy Deirdre on our honeymoon and they have high standards. It took six months to get me fit enough. Then I had to wait another three months while they arranged the formal wedding Deirdre wanted. Brigit was her only bridesmaid. How Brigit managed that I don't know. I'm not sure what my friend the Bishop would have said if he knew that a pagan goddess was standing before him in his cathedral. Perhaps he would have thought it a great joke. He does have a good sense of humour but I don't think I'll risk telling him.
There was a tentative knock on my door. I looked up. Alice, my secretary, doesn't knock. She knows when to come in and when not to. She must have approved the visitor.
"Come in." I said loudly.
Alice opened the door and showed in Trevor, one of the office juniors, carrying two insulated cups, one in each hand.
"Good morning, Trevor," I said. I was puzzled but Alice didn't let things happen without a reason.
"I was asked to bring you a cup of coffee, Mr Johnson," Trevor said nervously.
"Thank you, Trevor. Can you put it down on the desk, please?"
This was odd. Alice made my coffee in the office china mugs. These looked like take-away coffee. And why two?
"Who asked you, Trevor?"
"She said to tell you that Brigit sent them. Does that mean anything to you, sir?"
"It does, Trevor. But why two cups?"
"She said that one was for me and I was to take it with me."
"She asked for you?"
"Yes, Mr Johnson. She came to reception and asked for me by name. When I went down she told me to bring them to you. I told your secretary and she told me to knock. I hope I did right, sir."
"Yes, Trevor. You did exactly right. Take a seat and let's see what this coffee is like."
Trevor sat down nervously. I'm not an ogre to my staff but I do have a large office. This was probably only the second or third time I'd spoken to Trevor. I could understand how he felt. I was the big boss and he had apparently disturbed me with something trivial. I lifted the lid off my cup. The coffee looked and smelled normal. I tasted it. It was just coffee.
"What was this lady like, Trevor?"
"I don't really know, sir. I was concentrating on what she said. When James came up to find me he said that she looked fantastic but I didn't really notice."
"Try your coffee, Trevor."
He sipped and made a slight face.
"It has an odd effect. Almost like... perhaps like tasting a good single malt for the first time."
"Did she make sure you had a particular cup for you, and one for me?"
"Yes sir. She showed me. This one has 'T' written on the side. Yours has 'RJ'."
I turned my cup round. He was right. So Brigit wanted him to have that particular coffee and he didn't notice what she looked like. Why not? She wanted me to see him. Why? I drank my coffee. Trevor tasted his again. This time he took a good swallow. I knew he was drinking coffee with Brigit's breast milk in it. I envied him.
"Yes, Mr Johnson?"
"I shouldn't ask this, but do you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes, sir. I thought everyone knew. She's your secretary, Alice."
Aha! I thought. I wonder if she's listening in. I looked at the intercom. She was.
"Is that a problem?" I asked Trevor.
"That isn't the problem..."
"But there is a problem and Alice being my secretary isn't part of it. Have I got it right?"
I thought at Brigit. 'Help! I don't know what to do and she's listening in. This could get messy.'
Brigit answered immediately. 'Let him answer'.
He said: "We want to get married but we can't."
"And why is that?" I said as casually as I could.
"Because she would lose her job and I can't afford to support both of us."
"What makes her think that she'd lose her job?"
"That's what she's been told."
"I see. Trevor. I haven't told her that. Do you think she's lying and there might be some other reason she might not want to marry you?"
If that doesn't make Alice good and mad, nothing will, I thought.
"She wouldn't lie. She doesn't!"
That was a strong declaration from Trevor.
"OK. Then there is a problem I don't know about. Shall we ask Alice in and sort it out?"
"Please, Mr Johnson. It's been worrying us for months. I thought, and she thought, it was you who would make her lose her job."
Stupid pair! I thought to myself. They haven't even looked at the reality of employment legislation. There is no way I could fire anyone for getting married. I pressed the intercom button twice. Once to switch it off, the second time to switch it on again.
"Yes, Mr Johnson."
She was being formal. She usually called me Raymond. She must be really furious.
"Could you come in for a minute, please?"
"Yes, Mr Johnson."
The door was opened immediately. Alice stormed in like an avenging fury.
"Take a seat please, Alice," I said calmly.
She flung herself down so hard the chair protested.
"I have been talking to Trevor about you two."
Alice nearly jumped out of her seat towards me. I held up my hand. She had barely enough control to subside back.
"Listen to me just for a little. There is no way that you would lose your job if you married Trevor, or anyone you chose. Even if I wanted to fire you for that, and I DON'T, the law wouldn't let me. Is that clear?"
"But..." Alice was still furious. She turned on Trevor as if I wasn't there.
"How dare you discuss me with someone else!"
She might have said more if I hadn't interrupted.
"Alice!" I shouted. I never shouted at her. The shock worked. She shut up.
"You two really believed that Alice would lose her job? Who told you that? You, Alice, should know me better than that."
They looked at each other. Trevor answered.
"Brian Jones." He said.
Brian Jones? The assistant personnel manager? No wonder they believed him but why would he say such a thing? I looked at Alice, not as my secretary but as a woman. Far too young for me but I could see that she would be very desirable to someone of Trevor's age, or Brian's.
"OK. I hear what you say..."
I hate those words. It seems to say 'but I don't believe a word' but I couldn't accept an unfounded accusation without looking into it further.
"...and I will find out what is going on. But you two have no reason to worry about Alice, or Trevor, losing your jobs because of marriage or for any other reason that I know about. You have my word and I am the owner of this company. Is that clear?"
Alice leapt towards me. For a moment I expected the claws and all attack she had been ready to give me when she rushed in. This 'attack' ended in a smacking kiss and a hug. Trevor looked shocked. He was shocked when she turned on him. She jumped on him as if she was going to rape him here and now.
I stood up as she swarmed all over him.
"I'll be back in quarter of an hour. Sort yourselves out."
I don't think they heard me but when I returned Alice was back at her desk looking slightly flushed.
"Can you make an appointment for Mr Brian Jones to see me sometime this afternoon please, Alice?"
"Yes, Raymond. You only have two other appointments this afternoon. I'll let you know when he can come."
"Thank you Alice."
"Thank you, Raymond."
Up to then she had been her normal self if slightly more reserved. That 'thank you' was more emphasised.
"Can I congratulate you on your engagement?" I risked.
"Yes! Thank you!" Alice kissed me again. Deirdre will be getting ideas if this goes on. I savoured the kiss for a few seconds before saying:
"It wasn't really me, it was Brigit."
"Who IS Brigit?" Alice asked.
"I think you should ask my wife when she's next here. I don't think you would believe me."
I left it at that. I didn't want to explain to a newly engaged woman that her fiancé had been drinking a goddess's breast milk. It might upset her.
Later that afternoon I tackled Alan Jones with the intercom firmly off and disconnected. He admitted that he had been a suitor for Alice and had been rejected. He had told them... It doesn't matter now. He resigned with a good reference and a flea in his ear. He'd been stupid but apart from that his work had been good. I found out later that he had even apologised to Trevor and Alice. They accepted his apology probably because they were so involved in planning their wedding that he didn't matter any more. He got another job in the next town.
Next time Brigit appeared I asked her why she had become involved with Trevor and Alice. Her answer was simple.
"Those two were blaming you for something that wasn't your doing and I have a soft spot for young people in love."
She left it at that. Deirdre did try to explain to Alice who Brigit is. Now Alice thinks my wife is slightly deranged. I'm glad I didn't try.
Deirdre and I had been finding unusual places to worship Brigit. At first it had been part of my fitness training. Deirdre would suggest worshipping Brigit at the top of the next hill. That would often be enough to keep me going the extra hundred yards. I'd collapse in a panting heap and Deirdre would bury my face between her legs. Her warm pussy revived me time after time. Even the thought of her nakedness under the full skirt climbing the hill ahead of me gave me more incentive. Now I could keep up with Deirdre on the hills she switched to demanding worship at the most inconvenient times such as just before I was due to give a speech and had just arrived in the car park. We would climb into the back seat, I would crouch on the floor and my tongue would be busy as fast as I could knowing that seconds counted.
I spent many evenings under Deirdre's skirt while she watched television or sewed. I would try to distract her. Her endurance was almost inhuman at times and I suspected Brigit's interference. Often I was exhausted before Deirdre was aroused yet other times she was screaming blue murder after half a minute. It kept me on edge. I think that is what both Brigit and Deirdre wanted.
One evening Deirdre patted the settee beside her when I was already on my knees ready for another bout of worship.
"Raymond," she said. "We need to talk."
That sounded ominous. I sat beside her. She swung round and climbed on to me, kneeling up so that my face was at the level of her breasts. I looked up at her. She smiled at me and pulled me hard into her cleavage. I gulped for air when she released me.
"Notice anything different?" She asked.
"No. Can I try again?"
She smothered me again. I was really desperate from lack of breath when she relaxed her grip.
"No." I said. "They are still wonderful."
"Raymond, I'm pregnant."
"Wow! That's fantastic! But how was I expected to tell from your breasts?"
"They look different."
"Deirdre," I explained patiently, "you didn't give me a chance to LOOK at them. I was looking at your face and then you smothered and blinded me with your breasts."
"Oh. Sorry. Have a look now. Notice the change?"
"Yes." I kissed each breast tenderly several times.
"Shall we tell Brigit?" Deirdre asked.
"No need," came Brigit's voice from the doorway. "I've brought you a weak cup of my special coffee. Very milky. For both of you."
Brigit's sudden appearances could be disconcerting not just for Deirdre, but for me as well. Several times I had been worshipping Deirdre when she changed into Brigit and back again. The feel and taste was different but both demanded my full attention. Deirdre didn't object. Whenever Brigit took over she made sure that I fully satisfied Deirdre by prolonging my endurance if necessary. I didn't object. Either of them, or both – how could I tell when Brigit was changing things around – would be swallowing my erection which was impossible when my head was busy in her/their pussy/pussies from underneath. It just gets too complicated to explain when Brigit gets frisky.
We might not object but it could be unsettling.
The three of us sat on the battered settee. I need to replace it soon. It had seen too much action with the three of us. I had one arm round each woman's shoulder and each of my hands cupped a luscious breast. That's what they wanted. They fed the coffee to me.
"Congratulations to you two," Brigit said. "I knew you had it in you. I've known for a week or two but I thought you would rather find out the normal way. What did you think of your doctor, Deirdre?"
"Him!" Deirdre's contempt was vicious. "He said that I'm 'an elderly prima gravida' and I'd need to be in hospital for the birth."
"Did he say anything about your fitness?"
"No. He just looked at my date of birth and pronounced."
Deirdre spat out the word 'pronounced' as if it was an unpleasant taste.
I squeezed her breast gently. Her hand covered mine and squeezed back.
Brigit announced. "You are not going to give birth in hospital if I have my way. Do you trust me?"
"Yes." Deirdre and I chorused.
"Good. Know any midwives, Raymond?"
"Eh?" I was distracted. Two handfuls of tit do that to me.
"Midwives, Raymond?" Brigit repeated.
"Give me a few seconds, please. You two are too much for me to handle and think."
"And just think where your hands are," teased Deirdre.
I tried to pull my hands away from their breasts. Their hands stopped me and we tussled. I lost. I ended face down on Brigit's lap with Deirdre sitting on my back slapping my backside hard enough to show she could do much more. Thanks to Deirdre I am much fitter than I was when I first met Brigit. I still think Brigit cheats from time to time. Now I ought to be able to win tussles with Deirdre yet sometimes she overpowers me easily. I cannot win against Deirdre and Brigit.
Brigit's skirt vanished. My head sank between her naked legs. She settled herself comfortably as I began to worship her. I was being as assiduous as I could be in arousing her sex when my trousers vanished like Brigit's skirt. Deirdre's hand found my erection and stroked it gently before Brigit's magic buried it in Deirdre's pussy. Brigit's hands pulled me hard against her as I reached a climax.
I was still gasping like a landed fish as Brigit put all three of us back on the settee fully dressed.
"Midwives, Raymond?" Brigit repeated.
"How can I think about midwives? You two don't let me think..."
"Would more coffee help?" Brigit asked. She held out a refilled cup to me. I grabbed it and drank.
"Midwives?" I said. "I think I know one or two. Why?"
"Then go to them and talk about the prevalence of hospital births, please."
Brigit didn't have to add the 'please'. I knew she didn't ask me to do things lightly.
"I will, Brigit. What do you want me to do?"
"Ask them. You'll find out."
Brigit disappeared. I'm still not used to that. Deirdre dragged me off to bed for more sex. Brigit's presence has that effect on Deirdre. OK, she affects me that way as well...
The next morning I asked Alice to make appointments for me to see the two midwives I had found in my address book. Alice arranged for them to see come to see me together immediately after they had been to a meeting at the local maternity unit. When they arrived Alice brought in a tea tray. There were three cups, one of my normal blend and the other two cups were specialist teas. Alice is good at that sort of thing.
Helen and Joyce were experienced midwives with more than thirty years experience in the community. They had been surprised at the invitation to talk to me. Alice had told them that I wanted to talk about the prevalence of hospital births. They talked, at length and passionately.
They were worried. Far too many women were being forced to give birth in hospital when they didn't need to go there. Home births were rare. One of the reasons was that the specialist equipment to monitor the mothers and babies was only in the hospitals. Portable equipment was available but midwives were not allowed to have it because of the cost. A few thousand pounds would provide half a dozen midwives with basic monitoring equipment but that few thousand pounds needed support from the doctors who were not willing to reduce the throughput at the maternity hospital. Their funding depended on statistics of births at the hospital. Every home birth reduced funding for maternity services.
Most women wanted at least the option of home birth but were denied the choice. There would always be some who needed the specialist care provided by the maternity unit, but the majority of women didn't. Home births were cheaper, less stressful for mother and baby, and more satisfying for the whole family.
I hadn't realised just how rare home births were. After Helen and Joyce left I thought about all the births I had known about recently. Except one, the mother was an active member of the National Childbirth Trust, all had been in hospital. I telephoned that mother and asked how she had done it. The telephone handset might have melted in my hand from the expletives she used about the local medical hierarchy. She had fought from the time she knew she was pregnant and had only won a home birth through sheer bloody-mindedness. Even at the last antenatal visit the doctor had tried to prevent her from a home birth by claiming that her blood pressure was too high. She had been able to quote 'normal' figures for women at eight and a half months and had accused him of lying. By the time she ended her tirade she was glad he hadn't taken another pressure test. It would have been higher then.
I rang one of the consultants at the hospital, not a maternity expert, and asked if I could discuss hospital funding with him. He was reluctant but agreed if we met at the golf club's nineteenth hole this afternoon.
When we met he was very secretive. We had to find a quiet corner of the clubhouse before he would say anything. What he told me confirmed what I had suspected. Funding could be made available for home births only by cutting back at the maternity unit. The unit was barely viable as it was. If funds were cut it would have to close and mothers would face a thirty mile drive to the next unit. The maternity unit could survive if separate funds were available for home births but the system didn't provide a measure for that. If there was political pressure for choice...