The Christmas party seating was supposed to be drawn at random, so Pawser was somewhat surprised to find himself sitting between Mrs McBride and Lucy. Dirk had secured the attentions of Daisy, a chatty young waif flashing a butterfly tattoo on her bare shoulder and a lot more besides. Pawser assumed her position as assistant stationary officer was somewhat lowly remunerated as she appeared to have procured two large elastic bands from the stationery cupboard one of which she had slipped over her upper half, the other around her waist, much to Dirks evident delight.

Pandora and Barry, hand in hand, had happily joined them, together with a dismayed Jocko, who, upon assessing the company had adopted a rather surly demeanour which clearly he intended to alleviate by staring into the depths of his whisky glass for the rest of the evening. He perked up when one of Mr Bentley's crew arrived with an urgent message and quickly made his excuses and left.

Picking up his napkin Pawser was surprised to see in bold felt tip pen written across the cloth, 'What are the chances that we all got to sit together?' Looking up he saw Dirk, keen to impress his young senorita, flapping his napkin around like a matador at a bull fight. Having caught Pawser's eye, Dirk picked up his glass.

'To happy co-incidences,' Dirk toasted.

The little sod, he's fixed the seating plan, thought Pawser. But he could have done worse, everyone seemed rather jolly and with Lucy on one side and Betty on the other he could be sure of some easy going conversation that would ensure the evening passed in a particularly congenial manner. Satisfied with this state of affairs he picked up the menu to appraise himself of the culinary delights on offer from the MI5 kitchens.

Scraping the last bit of Christmas pudding from his plate, Pawser reflected on how well it had all worked out. Lucy despite being evidently rather drunk had behaved herself. Dirk had been very much on form throughout the meal and had plied them with risqué jokes and an easy patter that had allowed them all to feel at ease, all no doubt to impress his skinny, rubber bound friend who had scarfed down everything presented to her at a truly alarming rate. The marine life had spent most of its time canoodling with one other, Barry clicking dotingly away at Pandora, placing occasional flirtatious kisses on her cheeks and when she, embarrassed, had ducked her head, on her eight tentacle companion. The disco was about to commence, giving Pawser just enough time to slip up to the bar and get a round in.

Arriving back, balancing a large tray of drinks in one hand, Pawser interrupted Lucy and Betty deep in conversation. Quickly dispensing the drinks Pawser slipped back into his seat between the vibrant Lucy and the rosy faced, slightly tipsy Betty.

'So Pawser. Lucy says you keep horses?' offered Betty sipping her wine.

At this Lucy casually leant over and draped her arm around Pawser's shoulders, her month close to his ear. 'Betty's got the hots for you.'

Pawser choked, spluttered and almost spat his wine out over the table.

'While you were gone she said -she'd like to strip you naked, put a saddle on your back and hitch her Scottish skirts up around her waist and ride you until your hoofs fall off,' whispered Lucy.

Betty was looking expectantly at Pawser. For a moment an image sprang into his mind, the buxom Betty bouncing and down on top of him in nothing but a pair of riding boots, shouting 'Tally Ho,' whilst tickling his buttocks gaily with her riding crop. He shook his head in an attempt to erase the image.

'And I think we can all safely assume hoofs falling off is a euphemism,' added Lucy.

'Are you all right Pawser?' asked Betty placing her hand on Pawser's knee under the table.

'I'm sorry Betty. Something in my mouth,' coughed Pawser.

'Probably a horses bit,' muttered Lucy.

'I was saying Pawser, that I hear you keep horses,' persisted Betty, rather disturbingly moving her hand slightly further up his leg.

'Well, Betty,' Pawser anxiously, 'they are my wife's actually.'

'Lovely. She's probably like me, loves to go hacking?' smiled Betty.

'Is that what they are calling it now,' whispered Lucy.

'Yes, yes she does,' alarm bells were now ringing as Betty's hand edged further up Pawser's leg.

'And how many hands?' enquired Betty.

'Err, nine I think?' said Pawser uncertainly.

'Fairly small then,' confirmed Betty.

'She means inches Pawser, she means inches. Can't you tell? And if she thinks that's small you're in trouble. '

Pawser was in trouble. Betty's fingers were gradually crawling their way up toward his crotch. 'And you keep them in Scotland?' he blurted.

'Yes, yes but you must ignore Jocko with all that 'my family this and 'my family that'. The truth of the matter is that the castles mine, left to me by parents when they died. And the family history, as you rightly guessed is not his but mine. He does go on so. Sometimes I think he didn't marry me but my ancestors.' Betty smiled apologetically and moved her hand slightly further up Pawsers leg and gave it a firm squeeze. 'You should pop up sometime.'

'She'll bring her riding boots if you'll bring your horses grooming kit. You can get her to brush your mane before you start.' Lucy giggled.

'Do you have grazing?' said Pawser wriggling uncomfortably in his seat in an attempt to loosen Betty's grip.

'We have a farm in the lowlands. We lease some of the land to cattle farmers and I breed rabbits for the supermarkets. It gives me something to keep me busy.'

'Fuck,' murmured Lucy suggestively to Pawser, 'A rabbit farm,' she ran her tongue surreptitiously around Pawser's ear, 'and we know what they do. All day long.'

'Say you'll come up, Pawser.' Betty pleaded, 'It can be terribly lonely. Jocko spends all week at the flat in Hampstead Heath. You could see the castle and admire my hedge-maze. It's the largest in Scotland. It's worth coming up just to see that,' Betty's breasts heaving alarmingly.

'Now that's just disgusting. I hope she keeps it closely clipped,' whispered Lucy.

'Would you like that Pawser?' Betty's hand was now running playfully up and down Pawser's leg.

'She wants you Pawser. She wants you in her hedge maze,' whispered Lucy,' she wants you to admire her huge cupola's, feel your strong hands running up and down her impressive flying buttress while she jiggles with your gargoyles. Say you'll do it Pawser. Say you'll do it!' Lucy sat back, took a quaff of her wine and smiled sweetly at them both.

Unusually stuck for words, Pawser smiled at Betty like a baffled idiot.

'You really are so sweet,' laughed Betty putting her hand dangerously close to Pawser's crotch, 'such a good listener.'

Lucy momentarily leaned forward. 'And like any sweet she wants to suck.....'

Pawser was feeling increasing anxious. On one side Betty's hand was getting dangerously frisky, on the other Lucy had flicked her hair over her face and under its cover had got her tongue so far down Pawser's ear he thought it was likely to pop out the other side of his head.

Jumping suddenly to his feet, pulling free of both Betty and Lucy, Pawser announced rather too loudly to the table 'Well I'm off for a dance.'

'If that's an invitation, I have to say I'm spoken for,' quipped Dirk causing elasto girl to dissolve in to fits of giggles.

'Oh Pawser. I thought you'd never ask,' said Lucy clapping her hands together with the enthusiasm of an excited schoolgirl. She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around her waist.

This was not what Pawser had planned. A slow saunter in the direction of the dance floor would have allowed him to divert unnoticed toward the bar where he'd be able to take his ease for a few moments while Lucy and Betty found other diversions for their amorous intentions.

'Bloody hell.' yelled Pawser as they wove through the tables toward the dance floor. 'Do you think Jocko knows she's going around propositioning men like that?'

'Guuuulaaable,' mouthed Lucy over the sound of the disco and pulled Pawser onto the dance floor.

'But she kept running her hand up and down my leg and you said .......,' yelled Pawser confused.

'Come-on, Pawser you didn't believe what I said about her having the hots for you? Look at her, she'd tipsy and married to Jocko McBride. What would you do?'

Lucy was right thought Pawser. Being in a long term relationship with the ginger moaner stuck alone in the wilds of Scotland was bound to push anyone to the edge of reason. Perhaps rabbit farming and trimming her immensely sized hedge-maze gave Betty some release from the evident futility of it all. Mind you he wasn't totally convinced. 'But you said she told you she wanted to ride me like a pony.'

'And when I said that Pawser did you imagine your boss's wife, the bountiful Betty jiggling up and down on you, half naked, big boobs bouncing merrily up and down like a pair of enormous Scottish pancakes,' laughed Lucy.

'No I didn't.'

'Oh yes you did. Didn't you, you naughty boy.' Lucy clasped her hands above head, swayed her lithe body around to rhythm of the music and slowly did a 360 degree turn before leaning forward to Pawser. 'You see Pawser. You are sooooo predicable.'

'What about the rabbits?' Pawser yelled over the pounding music.

'Fuck the rabbits, Pawser, just dance will you.' Lucy yelled back.

Dirk had once likened Pawser's dancing to a marionette being operated by a drunken beggar with the DT's. Thrusting this thought from his mind Pawser jigged awkwardly about, trying to pick some rhythm out of the music. Lucy appeared not to notice, occasionally leaning forward to yell something incoherently into his ear above the blaring music to which Pawser would smile and nod enthusiastically.

To Pawser's relief the dance floor quickly filled up. Dirk arrived with elasto girl, clutching her in a close embrace they danced a slow rhythm, their bodies locked together in defiance of the thumping beat being pushed out by the disco. Shortly after Neville stumbled into the crowd of gyrating bodies. True to Dirks prediction he had indeed pulled a lobster but seemed ecstatic with his catch. She stood resplendent in a short pink dress defensively brooding over her handbag in the middle of the dance floor whilst Neville wriggled around her with all the allure of an eel trapped in a jam jar.

The sight of Neville and Dirk combined with the confidence of three Gin and tonics topped up with six glasses of fine wine spurred Pawser on, and he now started introducing little spins into his routine which seemed to go down rather well with Lucy who clapped her hands appreciatively every time he managed to slip one into his routine. He was half was through this routine when he looked down and saw his white suit had taken on an vociferous glimmer brought about by the UV light that had just been switched on. Arms flailing, he sprung back round to get Lucy's reaction to this magnificent sight and stopped dead.

One of Lucy's eyes had caught the light, shining spectacularly out from its socket it stood out like a beacon in a storm. In her drunken state this unnatural globe flicked this way and that, its iridescent whiteness afire in the UV light. She twisted, laughed and then seeing that Pawser had stopped dancing- stopped dancing herself. Her gaze fell directly upon him. Slowly the sound of the disco and flashing lights retreated from Pawser's senses; the light from Lucy's eye grew stronger, slowly casting a powerful hypnotic spell over him. Pawser stood transfixed in her gaze. The whole room shrank away from him, the noise of the music dropped to a dull thud in his head. The brilliant orbs focus had fallen upon him like a great Orwellian eye. It had him trapped, helpless. His knees felt weak, his mind went blank, his strength sapped away leaving him rooted to the spot. Slowly the eye moved toward him, growing steadily larger and larger, brighter and brighter, gradually consuming him.

Far away Pawser heard a voice shouting,' Pawser are you alright? Pawser!' Someone was shaking his arm. As if awaking from a dream he managed to tear himself away from Lucy's all Seeing Eye. It was Neville pulling at his jacket sleeve.

Pawser looked at him unsteadily, then back at Lucy who slowly turned to face Neville. At once Pawser could see Neville had fallen under her spell. Neville's hand fell helplessly away from Pawser's arm. As the music eased in tempo Lucy swept Neville up in her arms as gently she bore him way, spinning slowly off across the floor to disappear into the other dancers, Neville locked hypnotised in her embrace. A praying mantis with its helpless victim ensnared in its clutches.

For a moment Pawser stood motionless in the centre of the dance floor then was grabbed by Dirk who pulled him through the throng back to their table.

'Hot mince pies Pawser! I now know what Bilbo felt like with the great eye of Mordor pursuing him. Did you know about the ever omnipresent eye?' Dirk gasped.

'Christ no. There's not been a whisper about it. When she joined, she did go out on active service for a year and when she came back she was given the assistants job in the Library. Something must have happened,' Pawser replied breathlessly.

'I wonder if she takes it out at night. That'd give you one hell of a shock wouldn't it? Waking up next to Lucy, turning over to have a quick rummage in her lingerie drawer and a flick through her personal dairy, to look up and see her eye watching you from the top of the dresser,' reflected Dirk.

'Well what's more disturbing, Dirk than that eye is your evident lack of respect for the opposite sex,' reprimanded Pawser.

'Not at all matey I'd quite happily rummage through your bureau looking for something incriminating if you ever asked me to stay over at Chaise Bingham. It's not being sexist it's just my rather lax upbringing, together with a heightened level of inquisitiveness,' replied Dirk.

'Not much chance of a stay over at my place Dirk. The horses are of a nervous disposition, they wouldn't be able to take the strain of you pitching up in one of your shimmering suits. You'd give them all the staggers.'

'I don't know what your suggesting Pawser but if it's that I'm a carrier of the aforementioned 'staggers' I'm not sure how you envisage I may communicate it to your horses.'

'I thought you'd know a bit about horses Dirk. Don't they have those little gypsy ones down at your local market. I'd have thought you had a few clip-clopping round your block of flats.'

'I think you have gone down the stereotyping route too far. It's like suggesting that if you live in Surrey you own a couple of horses, drive a Land Rover and have a penchant for dating girls with enamel eyes. Drink?'

'Don't mind if do, Dirk. Watch out, it's a paying bar past one so just put it on McBride's tab, he won't mind.'

'Will do,' confirmed Dirk and strode purposely off toward the bar to avoid catching the attentions of the disconsolate looking lobster now on the lookout for another mate.

Pawser took a seat and cast around the room. Well, Lucy was Neville's problem now. Betty had disappeared, he spotted Barry and Pandora locked in embrace under a large sprig of mistletoe by the bar. To top it all an unopened bottle of wine sat on the table.

Apart from a few minor misunderstandings the evening had gone particularly well, Pawser considered. He sat back, undid his jacket, stretched his legs out and poured himself a large glass of wine.

Unbeknown to Pawser, things were about to take a turn for the worse.