The rambling house was too full of people, and the outside air was too cold. Ray had found a place to hide in the hay loft above the cows' byre. The hay was prickly and the whole building smelt of manure, but at least it was private and warm.

'Milk the cows.' Ray snorted to himself. He'd no intention of doing menial labour for the short time he'd be here. He was a city kid, a street rat with sharp eyes and quick fingers, well-attuned to the hazards and opportunities of town life. He should never have been placed with a family out in the middle of the countryside, even if it was only temporary.

A rustling sound made Ray reach instinctively for his flick, only to remember it had been confiscated amid a great deal of fuss. He clenched his fists warily as a face appeared over the rim of the loft. It was Billy, another of the children the Barretts had taken in care. He was a couple of years younger than Ray--about twelve--dark-haired, large-eyed and silent. He froze when he saw that the loft was occupied.

"Sorry, didn't know you were up here," he mumbled, and started back down the ladder.

"'S okay," Ray said generously. Billy was no danger--just a shy farm kid several inches shorter than he, who ghosted around the place silently and watched everything. They had been put in the same bedroom, so Ray supposed he should be nice to the kid.

Hesitantly, Billy came back up the ladder and settled himself near the wall, gazing at Ray curiously. "Your face looks awful," he said candidly after while. "Does it hurt?"

Ray brushed a hand against his right cheekbone. "Naw. Not too much. It did at first, but it's mostly better now. The stitches come out in a few more days."

"Did it swell right up so you couldn't see?"

"Yep. Doctor said I was lucky not to lose the eye. My--er--xylophonic arch could have been broken."

"What's that?"

"Fancy word for eye socket."

Billy's eyebrows drew doubtful arrowheads. "You made that up."

"Did not! I heard it from the doctor himself."

Billy still looked unconvinced, but he shrugged it away. "How'd it happen?" he asked curiously.

"My Da, how else?" Ray said glumly. "'S why I'm here, innit? After the doctor saw me, he called the police. Said my parents weren't fit to have me. So they packed me off to the middle of nowhere."

Billy tilted his head. "You wanted to stay with them?"

"Well, they're my family, aren't they? And Da isn't so bad, usually, if I keep out of his way. Anyways, it's Christmas. I can't spend Christmas with strangers! What about the presents me Mum bought me? And she makes the best Christmas pud, too. Why do I have to stay with the Barretts? Bet they give me new socks for Christmas."

Billy grimaced in agreement. "I got flannel underwear last year."

"See?"

"But they're okay, the Barretts I mean. Especially the missus; makes lovely biscuits and sweets, she does. And they don't hit, much. Before I came here I got beat up a couple times almost as bad as you."

Ray lifted his head from the pillow of hay. "How many families you been with?"

"Five. Six, counting my real Mum. But she died." Billy was silent for a long minute. "Anyway, the Barretts are okay."

"They want me to milk the bloody cows," Ray grumbled.

"You mean you haven't done it?" Billy sat up straighter.

"Why should I? You said the old man doesn't hit. And anyway, I'm not going to be here long enough to--" Ray cut himself off abruptly.

"You don't know how, do you!" Billy chortled. "Prob'ly never seen a cow before!"

"So? What difference does that make? I'm not some country yokel."

"Bet you're afraid of them. Afraid they'll kick you, that's it! Innit?"

"No, I'm not!" Ray bellowed, and surged forward to grab the smaller boy.

Billy twisted away agilely. "You're scared of them!"

"I'm not afraid of a bloody cow!" Ray wished passionately for his flick. It kept the street bullies off his back, and it would certainly put this little gadfly in his place.

Billy jumped onto the ladder leading down from the loft and grinned at Ray. "Actually, I was a bit scared of 'em too, at first. But it's okay. They like to be milked. I'll show you how to do it."

Ray blinked in bewilderment as the dark head disappeared again. His rage evaporated slowly. He hated being made fun of, and never let anyone get away with it back home, but this kid was just being friendly.

"Cummon!" a voice floated up from below. "I'll help you out!"

Gritting his teeth, Ray climbed down from the loft.

Billy picked the cow he said was "nicest" for the demonstration; he called her Georgine. He showed Ray where to position the stool and the bucket, and how to sit. Then he looked over his shoulder with a wicked little grin. "You play with yourself?"

"Eh?"

"You know." Billy's hand made a rubbing gesture in front of his crotch. "Wank off. You do that?"

"'Course I do! Doesn't everybody? Only when I can't get a girl, though," Ray added quickly.

Billy's eyes went round. "You've done it with a girl?"

"'Course," Ray repeated. "Lots of times."

Billy twisted around on the stool. "What's it like?"

"'S heaven. Better than the best sweets you've ever tasted. I could do it all day, if they'd let me."

Georgine shifted and the bucket clanged, and Billy remembered their purpose. "Show you something, later," he promised. "Anyway, milking a cow's a lot like jerking off."

Ray guffawed.

"No, really. Shape's almost the same--"

"Mine's a lot bigger," Ray interrupted.

"Well, mine too," Billy said a little too quickly. "But you gotta do it just right, see? Pull just hard enough but not too hard, and squeeze at the same time. And if you get it right--" He tugged expertly at one of Georgine's teats, and a pale stream squirted into the bucket.

With the erotic parallel so clearly defined, Ray felt himself beginning to press uncomfortably against the seam of his tight jeans. He shifted his weight as Billy began to work with two hands, sending alternating squirts into the bucket.

"You try it," he said eventually, and stood up from the stool.

Ray winced as he sat down, trying to ease himself into a better position. It took him a while to get the trick of it, with Billy leaning on Georgine's bony hips and telling dirty jokes under the pretext of giving advice. Once Ray was well started, the other boy got a second stool and worked on one of the other cows. Together, with Billy doing more than half the work, they soon had the whole line of cows finished and a row of brimming buckets.

After Billy had showed him what to do with the milk, he beckoned Ray towards the house. "Told you I'd something to show you," he whispered as he led the way up the creaking stairs to their room. "It's just about time now."

"You're never going to bed this early?" Ray demanded, appalled, as Billy switched off the light.

"Curfew's at nine," Billy answered. "We get up early out here in the middle of nowhere, y'see. But it's not quite time for bed yet." He crossed to the window and started pulling up the sash.

"What the bloody hell're you doing? It's freezing out there!"

"Cummere." Billy pointed out the window. "See that oak tree? You can reach it easy as pie from the window sill. And once you're in the tree, you can see through the windows of the room next door. The girls' room."

Ray fell silent as he saw the beauty of the plan. The Barretts had no children of their own, but they took many in from care either temporarily or long-term. Ray assumed cynically that Old Man Barrett wanted the free labour, not to mention the government cheques. Currently there were six children here--Billy and Ray, two other boys, and two girls. The girls were aged fifteen and sixteen, and the elder one, Marie, was stunningly well-developed. Ray had tried to strike up a conversation with her earlier, but she would have none of it. Billy's plan offered him a little consolation for that abrupt rejection.

Billy was still explaining as he straddled the windowsill. "'Course, it's better in summer. Then there's leaves on the tree and no one can see you from the ground. And they stay undressed longer. But we won't get caught so long as we're quiet. Cummon, I think I hear them coming up the stairs." He stood precariously on the outer edge of the sill and pulled himself into the branches of the tree.

Ray followed with a little trepidation. He didn't particularly like heights, and a narrow, bobbing tree branch struck him as unreliable support. But the promised delights drew him on, and he couldn't back down after Billy had made it look so easy. He stood on the sill and reached for the nearest strong limb, and a few seconds later he was securely ensconced with an excellent view of the next window over.

They perched close to each other on branches near the trunk, and Ray felt Billy stiffen with excitement as the light switched on inside. Ruth and Marie entered the room, talking to each other cheerfully. Marie sat on one of the beds--Ray noticed indignantly that the girls got separate beds, instead of sleeping in bunks like the boys--and began to brush her hair, while Ruth undressed. When Ruth was down to pants and bra, Billy gave Ray a sharp nudge and a grin. Without pulling on her nightgown, Ruth crossed to the dresser and began to spread some sort of cream on her face.

The show was short but extremely enjoyable. Ray got a thorough eyeful of Marie's coveted charms, enough to keep his imagination busy for several nights at least. When the girls were both in nightgowns, Billy swung easily back through the window and generously held out a hand for Ray.

Ray shivered as they closed the window again, and wasted no time in getting ready for bed himself. It would take a while for him to warm up enough to get to sleep, but perhaps a little activity would help...he glanced up at the underside of Billy's mattress, wondering if the younger boy would make trouble. Deciding to take the chance, he rolled over to face the wall and reached inside his pyjama bottoms, thinking of the lovely Marie.

"Ray," came a whispered voice from above.

Ray froze and gritted his teeth. "What?"

"What's it like?"

"Eh?"

"What's it like, being with a girl?" There was a squeak of bedsprings, then Billy swung down and squeezed in next to Ray without so much as a by-your-leave.

Ray stiffened and pulled his hand free. "Gerroff!" he said. "I'm trying to sleep."

"No, you're not. You're thinking about the girls, same as I am. So tell me, what's it like?" Billy wriggled himself under the covers, and his elbow jabbed Ray in the ribs as he reached down to his own groin.

Ray shivered as he realised what Billy had in mind. He wasn't sure it was entirely manly--the neighbourhood bullies in town would no doubt have something to say if they ever heard about it--but the idea did have its appeal. So he pressed his back against the wall, took hold of himself and began to talk in a rasping whisper.

"Well...imagine there's a girl with you. Just like Marie. She smiles and she takes off her clothes, and her tits are each as big as your head. They're warm and soft and heavy in your hands, and when you squeeze them and lick them she gets all excited. She lies down on the bed and spreads her legs, and you can see right up inside her--all pink and moist, with petals over the outside like a flower. And you're as hard as a rock, ready for it...." Ray paused to swallow, and slowed the motion of his hand. He would finish too soon at this rate. He could feel Billy trembling against him. "And when you get inside her it's so smooth and wet...and warm. Her muscles close around you, like a glove that fits just right. And you move, and it's all slick and easy, but you can feel every bit of her touching every bit of you. And she moans and threshes about underneath you...." Beside him, Billy stirred and gasped with excitement. "And you start to go in and out, and every time you go in it's like coming home, the best feeling you ever had, and you do it again and again, and it just keeps getting better, until all of a sudden it explodes inside you. You grab her, and squeeze her, and go deep as you can, and you come inside her." Ray grinned smugly as Billy shook and groaned. He quickened the motion of his own hand, and after a few short strokes he was groaning with release as well.

"And that's what it's like," Ray finished matter-of-factly.

Billy didn't speak, just lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the moisture off it.

Ray stiffened again, appalled and excited. He'd never seen anyone do that before. Billy seemed to like the taste. Did that mean he would be willing...? Ray hadn't yet gotten a bird to suck him, though he'd asked a couple of times. His cock began to stir again at the idea, and the soft sound of Billy's tongue lapping up the seed.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, the wet patches on their pyjamas gradually turning cold and unpleasant. Ray was trying to get up the bottle to ask Billy if he'd consider kissing him down there, but the younger boy spoke first, on a completely different topic.

"What d'you want to be?"

"Eh?"

"When you grow up. What do you want to be?"

"Rich," Ray replied succinctly, disappointed that he had missed his moment.

"Doing what?"

"Does it matter? I'm gonna have a lot of money. Get a big fancy house in London and servants to cook for me and clean up so's I don't have to. I'll have a heated indoor swimming pool and really classy furnishings, and all the girls will want invitations to my house. And they'll all be dying to be my girlfriend so I'll spend some money on them, but I'll only take the ones I really want, and all the rest can go to hell."

Billy considered this for a while. "I don't care about money," he said at last, "so long as I've enough to get by. I want to do something exciting."

"Like what?"

Billy pushed up on one elbow. "Soon's I get old enough to pass for sixteen, I'm going to run away from this place--or wherever I am by then--and join the army."

Ray snorted. "The army! Slogging through the mud with drill sergeants shouting in your ears?"

"Or maybe the RAF, then. I could fly the jet planes. Jump out with a parachute on my back. And I'd get to travel, all over the world. China, India, Arabia...." He trailed off into a vision of this colourful future, so far from the bleak Dorset countryside in midwinter.

---

Billy stood on the pedals as the decrepit bike rattled down the last hill toward the farmhouse. He had taken some of his precious savings into town, thinking of buying a Christmas present for Ray since the older boy seemed so unhappy about being here for the holidays. But he hadn't been able to find anything quite right--nothing that he could afford, anyway. So he'd nicked a girlie magazine from the tobacco shop. They could look it over together tonight. Maybe, if Ray turned out to be as good a mate as Billy expected, he could give him his prized catapult.

Billy had known Ray would be a friend as soon as he met the new boy. They'd even been put in the same room together; it was like some kind of fate. Destiny, that was the word. Billy liked that word. Just as he knew it was his destiny to travel the world and do great, heroic deeds, he knew he and Ray would be great friends. It was inevitable.

He arrived at the house to find Mrs. Barrett dabbing her eyes at the kitchen table and Old Man Barrett talking to PC Barnard from town. Billy swallowed nervously, arm curling around the stolen magazine under his jacket. But Barnard hadn't come for him; it was something else entirely.

Ray had run away. He'd left a note saying he was going back to his parents. And he hadn't even said goodbye.

---

Years later....

For the first time in the five years they'd been on the Squad, they both had Christmas free, and they planned to spend it together. Doyle had bought a tree and gone into a fury of decorating about his flat; Bodie had purchased an impressive array of sweets, some excellent Jamaican rum for the eggnog, and a large goose for their holiday dinner. A number of presents reposed tantalisingly beneath the tree, and a trained observer could not fail to notice the smaller gifts, suitable for stockings, that had been stowed at the back of several cupboards.

On Christmas Eve they both came back to Doyle's flat after eating wearily at a cheap Indian restaurant. Bodie collapsed on the couch with one hand over his eyes, groaning. "Bloody Cow. He really makes us pay for our two days of vacation, doesn't he? You'd think around Christmas he might lighten up a little."

Doyle shrugged, pouring himself a Scotch. "Christmas is the worst time, really. Bombing campaigns, terrorist threats--"

"Don't even suggest it! We're still on standby, you know. He could call us in at any minute."

"He won't. We can sleep in tomorrow, then when we get up we'll be all ready to open our pressies and start the roast. What did you get me?"

One eye peered out from beneath the dangling forearm. "That's for me to know and you to wonder, isn't it? You'll find out soon enough, Ray."

"It is Christmas Eve. We could each open one present...."

Bodie dropped his arm and grinned. "All right. But I get to tell you which present to open."

Doyle blinked, surprised that his partner had agreed. "Right. Which one will it be?"

"This one." Bodie spread his hands.

"What one? You're not holding a present."

Bodie shook his head mournfully. "Raymond, I'm disappointed in you. I am the present. You'll have to unwrap me yourself, though."

Doyle's eyes lit and he moved forward to get started.

Just then, the phone rang.

"Oh, no!" Bodie wailed as Doyle moved to answer it. "It can't be!"

"It is." Doyle set the receiver down grimly. "Cummon, Sunshine, we're called in."

"Bloody Cow. Doesn't even know the meaning of the season."

"The Old Man's all right. Cows take care of their young."

Bodie chuckled. "Cows give milk," he added in an atrocious burr.

"He'll have to give us time off sooner or later. We can have our celebration then."

"I suppose," Bodie grumbled. Then he shot his partner a sweet smile. "At least we're together."

-- THE END --