FUTURES RESEARCH

9038 - THE FAMILY AT CHRISTMAS - 1998

Christmas could be a nightmare. Its social structures had been solidified long before the new forms of family had emerged; so it didn't relate to these. Instead it celebrated the holy family; in particular the holy nuclear family. If the historical vid-romances were to be believed, and they usually were, it opened with the two young children - a boy and a girl of course - rushing into their parents' bedroom - babbling happily about the presents Santa Claus had left on their beds. So far so good. At least, even now, the children were still the centre of our day to day lives, which could still be limited to the small family group. But today, along the corridor were the other members of my extended family; and the complex relationships that linked us all together had never even been considered by the writers in earlier generations.

We were spending the Christmas holidays in an up-state 'family' hotel. This was nothing like the seedy boarding houses of previous times which had previously claimed that title but was one of the swanky new structures designed to cater for the recently legitimised fashion for extended family reunions; providing all the facilities you, and your children - by whatever partner, could desire. Its discretely flexible group facilities allowed members the privacy of their family suites, along with the delights of the shared community in the dining and sitting rooms, and even a children's; playroom - all carefully isolated from the dozens of similar groups inhabiting other parts of the hotel. It was just as if you owned your own twenty-bedroom mansion, which nobody - let alone any of us workers - could afford any more. It was ideal, physically, but I found that it created havoc emotionally!

The first problem of the day was posed by the timetable. The hotel provided a shared breakfast buffet in the dining room, in the best 'country-house' tradition, as it was in all the other similar dining rooms throughout the hotel; so, whatever the pretence, it had to be mass catering on the truly grand scale. The theory was that you could eat when you wanted, but of course you couldn't. The 'social pressures' meant that you had to join the others when they were eating - far earlier than I really wanted - otherwise everyone thought you were anti-social. Moreover, I had first to put on my finery and make-up. When in my real home I could just slop about with my hair in tangles, bleary-eyed until the black coffee finally woke me up.

On the other hand, the children loved it. Clasping in their arms the toys they had already received as the first Christmas gifts of many, they dashed down a few mouthfuls of their favourite cereals and rushed off to the playroom to show off their new acquisitions. Even then, the attractions of the playroom were such that they wouldn't fight over who had the best presents. There were too many diversions for this, real 3D vid-games to be explored and their long-lost friends - who they usually only talked to over the web - to greet.

I did eventually make it to breakfast, a seraphic smile fixed on my lips, as I faced my next challenge; where to sit? My partner, John, had no such doubts. He always headed for his last (ex) partner, Deirdre. It is galling to say it, but she still looked stunning after five children to my two! In the privacy of our real home John reassured me that their love affair was truly over. The tensions between them had just been too great. Yet I knew that he still occasionally spent the odd hour or two with her; and I couldn't see them playing chess. I wondered if the sex also was still as good as he had previously found it. From his lurid descriptions, I sometimes suspected that she could have staffed a whole brothel by herself! Worse still, my own children accepted hers as full brothers and sisters, complaining about how infrequently they saw them; even though they did seem to talk to them almost every evening on the net, and plagued us to allow them to use the vidwall for visual contacts. I repeated to myself the new mantra - 'It's the new form of the family' - but I was not totally reassured. Despite all the government advertisements designed to comfort people like me, I still felt insecure. What was to stop John going back to Deirdre any day, today perhaps? So, I would keep the children, that was something. But, in our new society, just who was close family had become something of a moveable feast. He would still see them as often as he wanted, and they would still love him as much - no matter how much I hurt.

I shuddered at the thought, but regained my self-control and went on with the small talk and the equally inevitable stodgy scrambled eggs; why had the advances in technology not allowed hotels to offer more appetising fare? But, as I bit into a near perfect slice of fresh mango I mentally apologised; some things were much better these days. In fact, the small talk proved to be anything but small. Deirdre was heavily into Anatolian archaeology. She was studying it with the University of Cairo, who had established something of a stranglehold on the market for all the archaeology of pre-history. She seemed, from her comments, to have done almost every course available on the subject. To avoid being completely ignorant, I had myself completed a couple of the most popular ones. But she even participated in the live Internet conferences. It was apparent that this was still not enough. She was hankering after spending a few months on an actual dig. I silently willed her to take this decision. Then John wouldn't be able to slip away for the few hours, as he was so easily able to visit Greenwich Village for a quickie. Turkey was much too far for that. Maybe she would even meet a hunk of a German digger who would sweep her off to his eyrie and out of our lives for ever.

I was awakened from this reverie by the dulcet tones of Deirdre herself, asking me how my own work was going. She knew that, as an actuary, I was just as involved in my work as she was in hers - I had even held off marriage to develop my career. But, the real reason was that she also knew how bored everyone else would be if I really rose to the bait and told her all about it! I muttered some suitable platitude, and let her continue entertaining her audience; while I surveyed the gathered throngs.

There were members there from half a dozen blood families. Running the affairs of an extended family was almost a full-time business. Everyone had multiple commitments; I could have attended half a dozen family groups this Christmas. So you had to positively attract them to your event. This meant that sometime over the next couple of days there would be a discrete session aimed at persuading us to sign up for next year. It was rumoured that some groups were now demanding pledges for two years or more ahead! It was pleasant being lobbied in this way, but the decision itself was still fraught. Just how did you decide your loyalties? A number of people relied on a form of tradition; they went to the same group every year - as, in previous years, they might have attended a blood-family reunion. On the other hand, a number, like myself, were attracted to the groups where the best entertainment was on offer; even if it was the spectacle of ex-spouses manoeuvring around the current ones! I guess, to my chagrin, the attraction here was Deirdre and her numerous ex-mates. But even she had delegated the task of administering the affairs - if that was the correct term - of her argumentative brood to her much more reticent cousin; whose joy it was, therefore, to bask in her reflected glory!

I am not sure whether I was one of the entertained, which is why I thought I was attending, or part of the entertainment, which was why the others were there. This was my first serious partnership and, after five years together, it was already leaning towards full marriage. Deirdre was on her fifth, or was it her sixth, and knew all the rules of the game - especially of the endgame! Fortunately, John was not a bone of contention - I had long since learned that approach was unproductive - but the new belle of her latest discard was - understandably - very defensive; just the sort of challenge Deirdre enjoyed.

I continued my scan around the room. The belle was already looking daggers at Deirdre, even though the latter had her arm intimately linked with that of my own John. My heart sank when I saw, at the far end of the room, a leering face which I remembered from the past. Duke, a ridiculous name for a wimp, would no doubt grope me every time he got near me. Further, he would grope me clumsily, so that I was totally turned off, and he would do it publicly, so everyone else knew of my embarrassment. And he would whisper words of assignation into my ear, not softly as the others would but so loud that he would nearly deafen me and carry the message to all those nearby. I blushed just at the thought of the humiliations to come.

Worse still, I knew it was my own fault, What had persuaded me, a couple of Christmases ago? I was drunk, but had I really been that drunk - or had he slipped me something? Whatever, I had succumbed. Locked in one of the 'spare' rooms, which were always provided, I had indeed let him have his way; perhaps it had been the result of a liquid rape. They were highly illegal, they threw away the key if they found you in possession of one, but they could be bought on the black market. Anyway, the memory was loathsome. Why do such men never wash themselves, and then stridently demand oral - which you find tastes rather worse than a tin of anchovies; Ugh! But, of course, ever since he had assumed that I had become his conquest; desperate to drop my knickers, so he could sweep me to that ecstasy of orgasm he fondly imagined he had engendered. Dream on! But it was a chore avoiding his crude embraces. Perhaps I would change groups next year. But would I be able to extract John from Deirdre's clutches?

Breakfast over at last, I looked in on the children. They were noisily playing with their relatives, just as if the past few months of separation  - since we last met, on holiday - had never happened. I suppose that, thanks to their almost daily contacts through the net, it hadn't! I need not have worried, I clearly was not needed there - something Deirdre, who was nowhere to be seen, had long ago learned; but which still left me felling somewhat unwanted, and dissatisfied with my lot.

I spent the next couple of hours, however, feeling quite entertained; discussing the merits of the new part-singing competition, with a couple of aficionados who had joined the 'family gathering' for the first time this year. It was strange to become part of a singing group whose members were spread around the globe. The five other members of my own favourite sextet lived on three other continents. It was even stranger to follow the recent fashion for asynchronous singing with them, each of us in turn adding our own track to that laid down by the leader of the group. My own voice was passable, and those of my collaborators were quite good, so our recordings were in reasonable demand; though, with so many groups now recording everything from Roman funeral music to the latest fractal psychedelia, it added little to the family income. But that wasn't the point. It was the sheer enjoyment of singing that made us go on; and if a few others wanted to listen to the result, that only heightened our pleasure.

At lunch I unexpectedly found myself seated between Deirdre's current partner and his predecessor. Rather less to my surprise, I saw John sitting with, and in animated conversation with, Deirdre herself. Maybe it was the sight of the two of them once more together that pushed me into that afternoon's little adventure. But I jump ahead of myself. The meal was traditional. Not least, a vast turkey was wheeled in on the carving trolley, replete with all the trimmings; as was the different selection for the children - who wouldn't deign to abandon their own special tastes. The contents of both were effectively - and very rapidly - served to us by a whole team of waitresses, who were busy working their way through a number of suites - it was not a holiday for everybody! The selection of wines was excellent, though it was difficult to find a poor one these days, and I sampled them all; and began to feel quite mellow. As I got even mellower, and more and more annoyed by Deidre's dominance of my partner, my conversation with the neighbours on either side grew ever more risqué. I was not altogether surprised, therefore, when - as the plum pudding arrived - hands found their way to my thighs. I was rather more surprised that they made their way there from both sides!

Even so, I was - pleasantly - surprised. Despite my earlier adventures, I had something of a reputation as a prude; I think that was one reason Deirdre took such pleasure each time in seducing John. It may have been this challenge, rather than my innate attractiveness that guided those hands up my skirt. In any case, on a good day - and today was one of those - I was passably pretty; and I was swamped in the most powerful pheromone perfume - so much so that I was worried that my neighbours would assault me before we left the table. So, despite paling into insignificance alongside Deirdre, it didn't surprise me when I found myself dragged into one of those 'spare' rooms; I had made it clear that I was available - and that counts for a great deal with most men. What did, again, surprise me was that both men were there, sharing me. I think it was an even greater surprise to them - but they were not going to miss the opportunity. Even though sexual pursuits had gradually become more exotic over the decades, such a menage á trois was - despite all the inflated stories - an unusual experience for most males, and something any red-blooded member of the species would savour!

We would not be missed for at least half an hour. Whilst the children were professionally entertained by a group of clowns in their playroom, everyone else - except us of course - would be sleeping their way through a re-run of one of the dreary blockbusters the channels seemed to save especially for such occasions. Whatever, nobody had the energy to keep track of their own family, let alone the others in the party.

Even so, it had to be a quickie; or, at least, that was my first intention. So, I suspect to their relief - if that is not a loaded term, I rushed them through the preliminaries; and then took them, alternately, doggy fashion. This choice was, at least, deliberate. In this position the man controls the woman - so my claim to have taken them somewhat overstates the physical reality - and, as a result, it had fallen out of favour with modern women, who demanded equality in everything. You can see, therefore, why it was now that much more attractive - a new forbidden fruit - to men; and why it would bring them to fruition that much faster. Barely twenty minutes later Deirdre's ex, looking very flushed, scampered out of the room and back to his new partner.

Deirdre's latest, on the other hand, didn't escape so easily, for I was still smarting from her assumption that she had sole rights to my own partner. Thus, I used all my feminine wiles to keep her new partner locked in my very naked embrace. Sheherazade herself would have congratulated me on my seductive conversation over the next three hours, and on the many exotic positions I adopted. It was galling to hear him extol her virtues while he explored - and drenched - every part of my anatomy, but the end - I was sure - would justify the means. Even while he boasted about his prowess with her, as well as demonstrating it with me, I had visions of Deirdre slowly coming to realise that her current paramour was no longer dancing attendance on her. Three hours is a long time to listen to any man's sexual history, and half a dozen climaxes - real for him, but mainly simulated by me - are more than tiring. But I calculated that three hours would be even longer for Deirdre, and his tiredness would put him out of any real sexual action for days, and that would enrage her even more. Worse for her, she would have to find ever more desperate ways to account to the others for his disappearance, and mine, for she could not admit that anyone had bested her in a sexual athletics match!

As the cherry on top, or rather on the bottom, I finished our little assignation by leading him into an extended session of anal sex. If the doggy position was rarely offered these days, this was - despite enlightened viewpoints - even rarer. I have to admit that, where some of my earlier shrieks of delight were genuine, now they were very much an act; there was too much pain and indignity, and no commensurate pleasure, involved. But, as forbidden fruit, he found the act, and my seeming enjoyment of it, irresistible. The really vicious element, though, was that I told him I had learned - from John - that it was, despite the denials, Deirdre's favourite position - especially if taken by force! Poor darling, to be so painfully raped, when his libido eventually returned and he once again made his advances to her! It was worth all my own, voluntary, pain and degradation. All finished, I carefully timed my subsequent entrance to the sitting room, not too soon after him that the others would have realised what had happened, but soon enough the Deirdre would be certain. To make sure, I wore the expression of a cat which had got the cream, which of course I had - a number of times.

In fact, I wasn't as jubilant as I had expected, but somehow I felt very satisfied, and that was even better. I did feel a pang of guilt, however, when Deirdre's partnership split up a couple of months later. Maybe it wasn't my fault, for the year or so it had lasted was par for the course. But, as for once it was Deirdre who was partnerless - albeit for days rather than weeks, I found myself having some feelings of sympathy for her. Perhaps she was human after all. And Christmas has always been a terrible strain on partnerships!

OPERATIVE'S COMMENTARY

According to my records, Mo, the wife, was on board with her current partner. It was still, I was amazed to learn, John. I would have expected a wimp, as he clearly was, to have been sucked dry by half-a-dozen other partners by now. Looking into Mo's eyes, however, I realised that the story was not as clear-cut as that. It was obvious that he had indeed enjoyed such partnerships, but she had stuck to him anyway. I looked around to see what other conquests would come his way on this trip. Two years would be an impossible time for him to maintain any form of monogamy - even if, as would happen, his affairs would earn him the opprobrium of the rest of the group. I sighed involuntarily, for it was obvious that his first hit would be on me! What was worse, I would have to fall for his charms. In fact I loathed his type, all surface and no depth, but the rather naïve character I was playing would undoubtedly have fallen for his flattery. Never mind, bedtime is often when my targets are at their most vulnerable; and I am most easily able to probe their innermost thoughts - they are just as open to flattery themselves!

Getting the records about them was more difficult. It is true that any individual accumulates vast amounts of data on the various databases. At one extreme a small amount of this is formal; all the details of your official life - from your birth and death to your tax records - all nicely indexed. At the other extreme there is the swamp of informal records you build up with every superstore purchase, with every bank transaction, with every place your car goes, but it is a nightmare analysing these. This work is already done for individuals who justify a folder of their own, for important personages or villains or subversives or those we are tracking or for those who fall into our net accidentally, that is how we know so much about them. But ordinary individuals didn't justify this kind of investment; so, though the data was undoubtedly there - spread across millions of files, it was of no use to me. Even so, I set a couple of data trackers, back at Central, sampling records to see if they could unearth anything which smelled funny.

But I didn't really expect them to find anything I could well believe that Mo had dragged John out here to avoid Deirdre, which is what she claimed, but I couldn't see why he had acceded - unless he was an even bigger wimp than I thought. The one  question outstanding, and it was an important one, was how could they have afforded to make the trip. The answer came with their bank records - which of course we double-checked - an inheritance, quite a large one. It also explained the wimp's behaviour; she was the beneficiary!

All of this was confirmed in my bed, with the wimp accompanying his version of the tale with shouts of 'bitch'; and I had thought I was the one who was supposed to scream with the pleasure of it all! At least that made me feel a bit better; for the sexual event itself was abysmal. The net result was, though, another strikeout. Where the previous suspect had been too extraordinary, this pair were too painfully ordinary.

So, on to the next suspect. This one looked more of a possibility. Its narrator was clearly someone who carried authority; even if he was young. And he was young, and handsome; I hoped I would have to test this one in my bed for rather longer!

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