ZEN AND THE ART OF ALIBI MAINTENANCE

"It's still not funny, being dumped," Doyle grumbled. "So take that smirk off your face. Remember the one who finished with you because you drifted off to sleep during one of her dinner parties? Did I laugh then?"

"Yeah," Bodie said. "You did. The food was good, but her friends were a load of wankers. I'd been trying to get rid of her for ages anyway – in favour of that mousy little typist, remember?"

"Right. Poor cow. Although if I remember rightly, that one made dinner for you regularly as well. I think you choose 'em for their cooking as much as anything else. "

"She was a good cook," Bodie admitted. "Lovely spotted dick, she did."

"How nice," Doyle said with a complete lack of sincerity and frowning at himself in the mirror.

"She was grateful for my compliments on her custard, I'll have you know. Pity she swapped me for that taxi driver."

"Maybe he did more for her than to roll up, stuff his mouth and dash off again."

"Could be. But you think this one of yours is definitely…"

"Definitely history. And it's a shame - I mean she was perfect. Lots of religious convictions, scruples – though that one'd last a while without the inevitable happening."

"So why went wrong?"

"Guess."

Bodie looked at Doyle, and grinned.

"She took one look at your new image, and bingo? Went off you immediately?"

"Wrong. In fact the opposite. See, I decided to call in straight after the case I did because she was… handy for a bite. Doesn't live far from HQ. And I was starving."

"Yeah," Bodie nodded. "No comment about you using a bird as source of food, you'll note. And?"

"Well, she did take one look at me, yeah. But then – wham."

"Wham?"

"She started getting all hot and bothered and steering me towards the bedroom. I mean that's… kinky."

"Yeah?" Bodie was baffled. "Kinky? You mean…?" Bodie grinned slightly.

"Right. But c'mon, Bodie. I mean… would you have reacted like that?"

"Perhaps not a fair question," Bodie said absently. "I mean…"

"If you'd been her, I mean. Well, OK, you react to anything from tight jeans to smelly T-shirts so I suppose you're no yardstick, but dammit, she was panting for it, Bodie," Doyle interrupted.

"Know the feeling," Bodie said. "But maybe it's a good thing you didn't turn up in the robes and stuff as well – maybe those would've been even more of a turn-on. Quite liked 'em myself, actually."

"You didn't when we needed to decide which of us got to play a sodding zen buddhist for a fortnight. Even though you thought you told everybody you were the world's bloody authority on yoga, you got less enthusiastic when you realised it meant eating nice healthy grains and stuff. Not to mention the hairdo."

"True," Bodie admitted with a grin. "But you did look very authentic. Not to mention rather… appealing. In fact, it's definitely a good thing you didn't go in with the full costume on, or she'd probably have had you handcuffed to the bed in no time. Speaking of which…"

"Speaking of which you have a one-track mind."

"Speaking of which it takes one to know one," Bodie smiled sweetly. "But you did… escape before she…"

"Course. Although I felt a bit bad about leaving her all hot and bothered so…"

"So?"

"So I gave her a lecture on self-denial being a wonderful thing. Didn't go down that well, though," Doyle sighed. "She really didn't look like little Miss Prim when I left. Probably rushed off to find the nearest cucumber or candle or something."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

"Tsk, tsk," Bodie murmured, eyeing his partner thoughtfully. "Yet another lesson in 'choosing one's alibi women carefully'."

"Looks like it, yeah. We'll have to add that to the list of questions: make sure they don't have secret kinks about shaved heads," Doyle said mournfully. "Or something worse. People who like their men to have haircuts that look like they were done with blunt kitchen scissors, for instance. Or…"

"Doyle…" Bodie warned. "My haircut is the state of the bloody art. You're just jealous."

"Nah. Just pissed off. Have to start looking for a replacement for 'er now, as well."

"Never mind sunshine. Got good news on that score. While you were off doing the 'ohhhmmmmm' stuff, I've got these two birds doing a cordon bleu course lined up. We always need reserves – good thing I did, eh?"

"Pretty?" Doyle asked.

"Didn't notice. But I did tell them that we both disapproved of sex before marriage – very devout, we are. Even told 'em you were a buddhist, actually. All very deep and soulful."

"Oh ta."

"Not sure they believed me, mind, but one of 'em said food's better than sex, so that's also promising if you ask me."

"And is it?" Doyle taunted. "Better than sex?"

"Nah. On a par, really. Ouch… that hurt."

"It was meant to. Tell you what, then. How about something to eat? All that buddhist stuff even made me want junk food."

"Perfect," Bodie beamed.

"Yeah? Pizza do you?"

"Even better. And Ray? As a special treat…"

"Fair enough, extra cheese it is. They're your arteries, mate."

"Wasn't thinking about cheese, actually," Bodie said airily. "Although since you mention it…"

"No?"

"No. Not even the whole 'bald is sexy' thing, actually. Although it is, you know…"

"I am not bald. I shaved it because I bloody well had to. It was the ultimate sacrifice."

"Course," Bodie nodded. "Got to say I miss the curls, sunshine, but I've missed something else a whole lot more. Does the word 'panting' give you a clue? You ready to get over your strop over being dumped and take advantage of post-seclusion sex?"

"Was counting on it," Doyle grinned. "Quiet night in sounds like just the ticket."

"Footie as well, but that can wait 'til after the rest. Not guaranteeing the 'quiet' either."

"Could be right about that. Mind, I'd have been offended if you'd put the footie first, although the pizza before anything else would have been predictable."

"Cheeky sod," Bodie grinned. "Paradise, that – pizza, sex and footie and not necessarily in that order."

"Good."

"But I'm confused… Why did she dump you anyway if she was all set to rape you? Because you fought her off?"

"Had to. I told her I might, possibly, get back to sex eventually but that I'd given it up for a while to cleanse my soul. Didn't bring her round one little bit."

"Ah," Bodie nodded. "Good thing she didn't know that with your soul, that could take years. Decades, even."

"That's what I told her. Called on her purity, her ideals. That was the point where she told me to get lost because she couldn't wait that long."

"Speaking of keeping people waiting, Raymond if you'd like to get on the blower and order, I can't hold out that much longer either."

"Likewise. Although you're talking about your need for food, knowing you."

"Would I? I mean really? I'm offended now. I can do a pretty good job of self-denial meself."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Up to a certain point. Which I'm reaching rather fast at this moment."

"Not the only one, to be honest," Doyle admitted. "A quick and dirty wank wasn't quite the same as fuckin' like a rabbit with you."

"Take that as a compliment, shall I?" Bodie said airily.

"Yep," Doyle said firmly. "And if you feel like making a start on that part of the programme - once I've phoned for pizza, then..."

"Now you're talking my lad. Get 'em off.""

"Shut up while I order, or you'll end up with double anchovies."

"Hate anchovies," Bodie said, but did as he was told and contented himself with sliding a hand under Doyle's T-shirt. Then lower.

"So what was the special treat you were talking about before?" Doyle asked, putting the receiver down. "If it wasn't cheese I presume it was celebrating my homecoming in the time-honoured way? Although fondling me balls while I was trying to order a bloody pizza was a bit…"

"A bit what?"

"Tricky. Nearly said 'extra sex' instead of extra cheese."

"You only lost the plot for a second or two."

"Yeah," Doyle chuckled, sliding the open jeans down and off and pointing at his partner. "So let's celebrate then. Get 'em off yourself."

Bodie obeyed, rapidly, murmuring approval as Doyle slid practised fingers up the inside of his thigh.

"By special treat …" he murmured.

"Go on, Bodie. What is it? Handcuffs? That other little toy of yours?"

"Maybe," Bodie grinned. "But no… not specifically."

Doyle rolled his eyes.

"Not in Cowley's office. You're not still fancying that?"

"Oh, I am. But not that either. Much more simple, in fact."

"Bodie… either tell me or I will put the bloody handcuffs on you. Right now."

"You don't want to put the robes back on, do you? Just for a minute? You have got them in your bag, right?"

"Yeah," Doyle grinned. "Sounds like a plan. Pizza-eating monk, eh?"

"Well-fucked pizza-eating monk," Bodie breathed as his lover reached for his holdall and into the robes in a few rapid movements, his eyes bright.

"Ohhmmmm," Doyle said.

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