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Erin sets her sights on Bobby's mom and gets the prize.

The two lovers wound their arms about each other and relished the sensation of each other's flesh.

"Why did you call me at work, sweetheart?" asked Doris as she idly twirled her fingers around the huge aureoles of her lover's nipples.

"I didn't know you were still at work," said Diane. "I thought you might have been home. Or perhaps on the train back from London."

"While the project is in its present mess," said Doris, "there's going to be nothing but problem after problem. The legal department haven't quite worked out the international legal implications yet..."

"International legal implications?"

"Any project that aims to simplify security and passport controls at airports is bound to have countless international legal issues. The Chinese are the reference market, of course, and most European and Asian countries are in line with China. The United States, as usual, is dragging its feet and raising all sorts of objections."

"Why's that?"

"It's just what they do. The different states can't even agree between themselves whether black is black or doesn't happen to also be white. If they can't agree amongst themselves how can they be expected to agree anything with anyone else? I despair. It can't be long now until the nation splits down the middle. It just can't cope with no longer being the world's richest or most powerful nation. All it can do is huddle in the corner and sulk. That is, when it's not quarrelling about eye retina recognition and DNA identification."

"It sounds like a real headache," said Diane. "But what I called you about was disaster relief for the radiation victims of the Indo-Pakistani War. I was just wondering if you had any suggestions for what a Vicar of Christ should be doing."

"I'm not really the best person to talk to about charity," said Doris. "It is charity you're talking about, I hope? You're not suggesting we leave Surrey and fly over to the irradiated zones in the republics of Kashmir, India and Pakistan? It's not quite me, I think."

"It's not me, either," said Diane. "I don't think I'm cut out for that kind of work. Being a missionary was never one of my childhood ambitions. In any case, the charities already have plenty of much better qualified people in India and Pakistan. They don't need the help of a couple of middle-aged English women..."

"Middle-aged!" laughed Doris. "I think I've got a few more years left till I'll call myself that."

"They probably wouldn't need us whatever age we were," said Diane. "But we've got to do something. It's our moral duty."

"Are you saying that because you're a vicar?"

"It's our moral duty to do something for the tens of millions in dire need and the hundreds of millions who are displaced whether we work for the church or for an international computer consultancy or for the local supermarket. This is the worst international crisis of our lives. It's the first time for nearly a century that nuclear weapons have been used in anger. It is our moral imperative to give whatever help we possibly can."

"Point taken, sweetheart," said Doris as she tenderly kissed Diane's stomach.

"What I don't know and why I called you," Diane continued, "is exactly what we should be doing?"

"I don't know either, sweetheart," said Doris. "And you know that. I take it you want to do more than just arrange a collection from your parishioners and to give a sermon on behalf of the millions of radioactive refugees, but you also don't want to fly out to the nuclear wastelands. You'll just have to contact agencies like Red Cross or Oxfam or Action Aid and ask them for advice."

"I've got to offer them something more than the usual charity collection money," said Diane. "I've got to do something a great deal more."

"About the only thing these poor souls want besides food and drink is shelter," said Doris. "Are you suggesting that we shelter them in the Church grounds?"

"It's an idea," said Diane, her face lighting up.

"But not a very good one," countered Doris.

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