The Oyster, Volume IV

2

It was as the port began to circulate after dinner that the first piercing screams started to resound from below stairs.

'Mary!' said Colonel Moore. 'Once heard, never forgotten. Does she still have the same Gentleman friend?' 'Tom-' said Hannah.

'-the Tool,' Becky went on. 'The very same. She especially requested permission to entertain him this evening since he will be absent from Town for at least two weeks, visiting his family in the provinces.' Rosie was the only person at the table who had not previously heard the eardrum-shattering sound of Mary being fucked. As she listened open-mouthed to the rising crescendo of ecstasy that rang through the house, Hannah and Becky explained to her that Mary was quite incapable of enjoying any sexual encounter in silence. 'She simply can't help it,' said Becky. 'She's barely aware of the noise she is making so we have had to insist that she only fucks when there are no visitors in the house. It is completely impossible for anyone to carry on a normal conversation and pretend that nothing untoward is going on. We make the occasional exception where old friends such as the Colonel are concerned.' 'Nothing that I haven't heard before,' said the Colonel. 'Not the first screamer that I have come across in my time, although probably the noisiest.' 'Of course I know that I still have much to learn in these matters,' said Rosie, 'and I can see that it is a socially unfortunate habit, but still it is somewhat exciting, is it not?' We could all see that she was becoming quite agitated and a little flushed about the cheeks. Truth to tell, I was aware of a stirring response on the part of Mr. Pego to that call of the wild from the basement. 'Do not worry,' said Becky. 'Yours is a perfectly normal reaction. The sound of fucking, like the sight of fucking, is always exciting.' 'I suppose,' said Rosie a little hesitantly, 'that it would be most improper if we, er, went down to have a look?' 'Mary will be far too carried away to notice if anyone else is there,' said Hannah. 'But Tom is a shy young man. We would have to be very discreet, but if you keep out of sight on the stairs -' 'Oh, yes,' said Rosie, rising eagerly to her feet. 'I'll be as quiet as a mouse.' 'I'd better lead the way,' said Becky. 'Remember there is no carpet on the servants' stairs.

Andrew, if you are coming with us, you'd better take off your shoes.

You do rather clump about.' Although I thought this was a rather unfair remark since I consider myself quite light on my feet, I none the less bent down to unlace my boots. 'Here, Andrew, I'll do that for you,' said Rosie and she bent down before me. Deftly she removed first one boot and then the other. With a naughty glint in her eye she buried her head for an instant between my legs and rubbed her forehead against the rather obvious bulge that had appeared at my crutch. 'Come along Rosie,' said Becky. 'This expedition has been organised at your request. You can do that later.' 'Don't be so schoolmistressy,' said Rosie. 'I'm ready.' Hannah and Becky led the way, Rosie on tip toe immediately behind them. I followed Rosie closely. Colonel Moore however remained seated. 'Not as agile on the feet as I used to be,' he said. 'I'll take my time.' He poured himself another glass from the decanter. 'I might follow later.'

'Come on,' said Rosie, 'Ssshhh!' This last injunction was addressed to me as I had inadvertently kicked over a small stool. As I paused to right it, the others disappeared in single file through the green baize door that led down to the kitchen. As it opened, so the volume of screams was suddenly twice as loud. We trooped down, turning a corner. At the foot of the stairs was a second door, half open.

Hannah stopped. Becky stopped. Rosie stopped, peering over their shoulders. I stopped one stair up so that I had a clear view.

Mary, still in her maid's uniform, was spread-eagled over a large, well-scrubbed table. The remains of the dinner still on the serving dishes had been pushed to one end. Mary's legs were raised and widely parted. Although I of course had seen and heard this performance once before, I was enthralled to see a repeat performance.

Tom the Tool had just withdrawn in order to gather himself for another mighty thrust. Once again I was amazed at the immense size of his cock. It gleamed for an instant, glistening white in the gas light, before he launched himself forward and the entire length disappeared into Mary's welcoming cunt. Truly they were a splendidly matched pair.

Rosie to whom this was all quite new, gave a stifled gasp as she saw his tremendous engine. Inadvertently I bumped into her from behind and she reached back to grab me and steady herself. Her bum was nestling against me and I clutched at her, my hands closing over the swell of her round little titties. In silence we watched as Tom applied himself to the task in hand. He was thrusting now with an even-paced rhythm, Mary rising to meet him and take his entire length deep down into the very furthest reaches of her quim. Her shrieks of pleasure as he forced his way in were alternating with great moans as he pulled back. As they continued Rosie began to rotate her firm little bum against me to the rhythm so that my prick was immediately provoked to its fullest extension. Unable to stand the discomfort of its imprisonment, I used one hand to unbutton myself while I squeezed her titty with the other. As she realised what I was doing, without taking her eyes for a moment from the mighty coupling that was taking place on the table, she unbuttoned her dress so that I could slip my hand inside and feel first the softness of her titty and then the hardening of a nipple through the thin material of her chemise. I was by now rubbing the shaft of my exposed prick against the silk of her dress as it was stretched tight over her cheeks. As I reached down to lift the hem of her dress, I realised that she had had the same thought. Our hands met. For a moment she tickled my palm and then pulled her dress up. As my hand touched bare flesh, I realised that under her skirt and petticoat, she was naked. I slid my prick between her legs, rubbing it against the soft down of her pussey hair.

All the while we were quite transfixed by the relentless fucking that was going on in the kitchen. Again and again, Tom thrust forward.

Again and again Mary squealed and yelled out as he plunged and pulled back. Unconsciously Rosie and I were rubbing against each other at the same pace, the tip of my prick gently parting but not quite entering her tight little lips. Suddenly I realised that we were not the only spectators engrossed in the sport in front of us. At the far side of the kitchen, the scullery door was open and I saw little Emily, the other maid, watching with open-mouthed intensity. She also had raised her skirt and I saw her thin hand playing with her exposed blond pussey. A look of rapt excitement was on her face. Her maid's cap was awry and a couple of golden wisps of hair had escaped from their confinement. They hung down, damp with perspiration, as she played with herself. Her fingers were obviously rubbing her clit. I could not see it properly but I remembered from an earlier encounter that it was quite the longest that I had ever encountered in one of her slight build. Tom's thrusting was now speeding up and reaching a crescendo. Mary was meeting him and more than matching him in her eagerness. She was beginning to mouth cries of encouragement. Rosie, pressed tight against me, was beginning to make intense little sighs of pleasure. Hannah and Becky, becoming aware of what was taking place behind them, stood firm so that Rosie should have something to lean against. Without a word being spoken, each put an arm round her waist. I withdrew my hand from her titty and held her by the hips, cupping her in each palm. She reached down in front and the head of my prick was all at once met by her fingers as she bent further forward and opened her pussey lips so that I could begin to penetrate her. In the half darkness there was such a press of bodies that my hands were squeezed between the three of them as the two sisters began to rub themselves against Rosie. Across the far side of the room, Emily was leaning against the doorway. She was now rubbing her palm against her opened pussey, her fingers sliding deep inside her. Her eyes were still fixed on Tom and Mary and I could half hear, half feel, that she also was beginning to moan with excitement. Mary was now clutching desperately at the table's edge as Tom banged his way in and out. He was now ramming his way into her with such force that the whole table was beginning to shudder. The pots and pans hanging in rows on the wall were starting to jangle as they picked up the vibrations of the fucking. Mary suddenly drew in a great breath and there was a moment's breathless silence before she let it out again with a shattering cry. 'I'm coming, Tom! I'm coming!' she yelled and her whole body contorted. Tom's gasps had reached an answering climax and I think that all the watchers must have sensed together that the first spurts of his cum were beginning to force their way uncontrollably up his mighty member. Mary locked her thighs around him. Her eyes were bulging and again we could all instinctively feel the love juice flooding into her cunney. Then she lost her grip on the table's edge and, locked together, they fell on to the floor.

They carried on their coupling without a pause. However at the thump, two large baking dishes, a bain-marie and a fish kettle were dislodged and came crashing down on to the stone flagged floor. In response, Rosie jumped with surprise and opened up so quickly that I sank into her up to the hilt. She grabbed at Hannah and Becky for support but they in turn were so taken unawares that they stumbled and we all four fell forward through the doorway. As we landed in a heap, Rosie on top of Becky and Hannah and me on top of Rosie, I tried manfully to regain my balance but my prick was embedded so far into Rosie that I was unable to struggle free. Not that she had any intention of letting me go. Quite unhurt, she raised herself up on her forearms so that, as I tried to stand up, she remained impaled on me. As I held on to her thighs, it was for all the world as though I were clutching a wheelbarrow. Tom and Mary had by now subsided into a tangled, thrashing heap of limb and quim. Meanwhile, Emily, abruptly made aware of our presence, had jumped back violently in embarrassed surprise.

Her hand left her pussey and she began frantically to smooth down her dress. As she stood in the scullery doorway, obviously torn between her instinct to run back out of sight, and concern in case any of us had been hurt in the fall, Becky burst out into peals of laughter.

Still lying on the floor, she reached out a hand. Emily hurriedly ran forward in order to help her mistress to her feet. Instead, Becky pulled her down on top of her and hugged her. For a moment Emily struggled to escape but then as Becky seized her and pushed up her dress, she allowed her legs to be parted so that Becky could bury her mouth in her golden pussey. So near had she been to her own coming before the fall that she at once surrendered, stopped struggling and lay back. Becky's tongue was now lapping at the little maid's clit while I fucked Rosie, doggy style, as she in turn cradled her head on the recumbent body of Hannah. All around me, bodies were heaving and wrestling. Tom, his tremendous spending now more or less complete, was looking about him in bewilderment at this sudden eruption of fucking and frigging. He made some feeble effort to disengage himself from Mary but she held him tight inside her, obviously determined to squeeze the last drop of pleasure from him. Rosie's tight but slippery cunt was fairly clamped around my prick and I in my turn knew that I was about to come. All the efforts and fatigue of the day were forgotten as I pumped jet upon jet into her welcoming quim. Rosie was writhing with pleasure and I sensed our juices mingling deliciously in her young but eager cunt. Emily too had opened up completely to the probing of Becky's experienced tongue and was twisting like an eel, this way and that, as she gave way to her own, surprisingly vocal coming. Only Hannah had had no real part to play other than as Rosie's cushion in our multiple coupling, but so carried away was I by the delightful feel of Rosie, still clinging to my emptied but yet swollen member, that I must admit that I did not spare her too much thought at the time. Of course, as my old headmaster used to say, all good things must come to an end and soon we had all subsided, exhausted, on the kitchen floor among the debris of plates and cooking utensils.

Mary's cries had died away to a satisfied sighing. Tom, a nice young man who, as Becky had earlier pointed out, knew his place, was clearly ill at ease at having fallen among the gentry or, more accurately at the gentry having fallen in on him. Mrs. P-who was, among other things, an avid if not uncritical reader of Mr. Engels and Mr. Marx, had long ago decided, according to Hannah, that any proletarian uprising that involved Tom would be restricted to his enormous prick and that his state at least was not one that was ever likely to wither away. Emily was lying on the floor, her skirt bunched up around her waist while her hand gently stroked Becky's which in turn was resting lightly on Emily's lightly furred pussey. Rosie was sitting cross-legged in front of me, running her finger nails teasingly along the upper side of my now relaxed prick while our combined juices had made a small damp patch on the floor under her carelessly displayed brown-haired bush. Footsteps were heard on the stairs. Before I or anyone else had a chance to do anything, Mrs. P- and Colonel Moore were in the doorway. 'What was that terrible crash?' she asked.

'I hope nothing expensive has been broken.' Tom was the first to react. Red with embarrassment, he struggled to his feet. I watched the unusual spectacle of a man tugging at his forelock with one hand while trying to stuff his great dangling prick back into his trousers with the other. 'Beg pardon, Ma'am,' he said. 'Me and Mary got a bit carried away. I hope no damage has been done.' More and more flustered, he realised that he needed both hands to hide away the object of his confusion. Brought up to know that it was bad manners to turn his back on a lady, this left him fumbling with himself in full view of Mrs. P-. He stepped back a pace, put his foot into a large silver soup tureen and fell over with a clatter into the assorted kitchen ware that had descended from the shelves when he and Mary had descended from the table. 'You're all fingers, thumbs, feet and Thing,' said Mrs. P -. 'Mary, you'd better help him up before he breaks something.' Mary, still very much dishevelled by her activities, struggled to her feet. For an instant, she looked anxious.

Then relief flooded over her face as she saw the expression on Mrs.

P-'s face. 'A disgraceful exhibition,' Mrs. P- chuckled, a broad smile suddenly appearing. 'You've left your young man quite unable to stand. Pick him up, dust him down, straighten his clothing and make sure he puts that Thing away. You can't have him going out into the street like that.' Emily meanwhile had staggered to her feet with a cry of distress and fled into the scullery. She had blushed bright pink and looked close to tears. 'Emily,' said Mrs. P-, 'There's no harm done and no need to hide yourself away. But there is a lot of tidying to be done. Cook will not be happy if she walks into the kitchen while it is still in this state. Becky! Hannah! Don't leave it all to the servants. Give them a hand. Andrew! Give Tom a hand also.

The table needs to be lifted back into place and all those things need to be put up on their shelves again. Also there is a large sticky patch on the floor where you and Rosie have been. In fact, now I look at it, there are a number of sticky patches on the floor. I think it needs a good scrub down. As do you, Rosie. There's none of you half-way presentable in even the most casual drawing room.' There was a great bustle as pussies, titties and pricks were hidden away, buttons done up, dresses adjusted and the work of restoring the kitchen to some semblance of order was started. At this point, however, Colonel Moore took a hand in matters. He had been standing, leaning on his stick, watching with considerable appreciation the scene that had met their eyes on coming down into the kitchen.

'May I suggest that we could all do with a restorative drink before the hard work gets under way,' he said. 'With your permission, Ma'am, I can remember where the pantry is. I know that there are a couple of bottles of claret and some madeira already decanted.'

'I seem to recall that I left most of you at the dinner table intent on port and conversation some time ago,' said Mrs. P-. 'But I suppose that as you appear to have decided to move below stairs en masse, you had better do your drinking down here as well.'

'Andrew,' she went on, 'You might like to help the Colonel. There are glasses in the pantry also.' 'I'll pour. You carry,' said the Colonel, seizing hold of a bottle and slopping the wine into the largest glasses he could find. 'One for Hannah. One for Becky. A large measure for our Hostess. Better give the maids something as well,' he said to me with a glint in his eye. 'And that young man. I should think he needs a bit of a pick-me-up after all he's been through.'

I caught Mrs. P-'s eye. Her lips twitched and she nodded her assent. I took the drinks round on a large salver that I had retrieved from the floor. The two maids took theirs with decorous little curtseys. Tom the Tool still looked rather shame-faced. 'Drink up, man,' said the Colonel firmly. 'Restores the vigour.' He was now leaning back on the self-same table that had so recently supported Tom and Mary in their conversation-stopping activities. 'Ever tried it underwater?' he asked. 'Underwater?' queried Becky. 'One would have to be pretty quick about it if one wished to avoid death by drowning.' 'Well, not totally submerged,' he admitted, 'but in the water at least.' 'I have fucked in the bath,' volunteered Hannah. 'Great fun but very splashy. In fact most of the water ended up on the floor. Also I slipped on the soap when trying to get out of the bath afterwards.' 'Really, Hannah!' said her mother. 'You two girls get worse and worse.' I recalled that on my first night in the house, I had discovered Becky in the bath being attended to in a most intimate way by Emily, but since I had been unobserved by them, I decided to say nothing on the subject. 'I was thinking more of the sea,' the Colonel continued. 'At Brighton to be precise. It was some years ago now but I was enjoying a week's holiday with a close friend. I must not name names,' he said, 'particularly since she subsequently married a curate attached to a living in Dorking. We had not intended any such adventure but the tide swept us together and my friend lost her footing. She clutched at me for support and as luck would have it, the first thing she grabbed was my member which was handily sticking out beneath my bathing costume. Striped, it was. The bathing costume that is, not my member.' I settled back, pouring myself a second glass. I had of course experienced the Colonel's tale-telling abilities while on the train with him on our Bristol expedition. I knew that he had a large fund of stories which, even if one suspected a certain amount of dramatic licence, were always worth listening to. Rosie and the family had also been exposed to his reminiscences in the past but all this was quite new to the two maids and to Tom the Tool. The latter in particular was all ears, listening to his every word and quite forgetting his unease at finding himself in such company. 'I could hardly disengage myself,' the Colonel went on, now well embarked on his story, 'And leave her at the mercy of the current. A certain look came into her eye and she led me into deeper waters, under the pier. We floated for a time while I began to investigate her rather luscious body through the stuff of her costume.

We both soon came to realise that it was quite impossible to get the wretched thing off. I was getting thoroughly excited by the possibilities that were opening up when all of a sudden I felt a smart stinging sensation in my bottom.' 'Oh dear! What had happened?' said Becky with a solemn face. 'I had been snagged by an angler's hook and line from the pier above,' said the Colonel. 'So that is what they catch,' said Becky. 'I have often watched the fishermen dangling their tackle into the water but I have never actually seen any one of them land anything.' 'Cod is the more usual catch, I understand,' said the Colonel. 'Or mackerel possibly. I suspect that that is the only recorded instance of an officer in the Punjab Rifles being caught in the English Channel.' 'A painful experience,' I suggested. 'A little so,' he conceded. 'But by then I was so intrigued by the possibilities of a waterborne entanglement that I hardly noticed. I pulled the hook out of my bum, gave it a quick couple of tugs and we paddled out of sight under the pier. We both quickly realised that there was little more we could achieve, particularly as my companion was beginning to complain about the amount of seaweed that was interfering with her enjoyment. We waded ashore. While she waited, crouched in the waves, I slipped the attendant a few pence to look the other way and I smuggled her into my bathing machine. 'We had an absolutely splendid fuck. So much so that the damn thing began to rock rather alarmingly on its wheels at one point and edge down the shingle, deeper into the water.' 'The beach at Brighton does slope rather steeply,' I said. 'When we had finished,' the Colonel continued, 'I realised that I could hardly let her out into what was now quite a rough sea, so I lowered myself into the water and swam round to the other machine we had hired.'

'I begin to see a problem,' said Becky. 'You were now in her bathing machine, and she in yours.' 'Precisely,' said the Colonel. 'What ever did you do?' asked Emily, forgetting her embarrassment in the excitement of the story. 'Nothing else to do,' said the Colonel. 'I had to put on her clothes and she had to put on mine.' 'AH of them?' asked Emily. 'Only the outer garments,' said the Colonel. 'Bundled up all the underwear and popped it into the picnic hamper we had with us.' 'Did no-one notice anything?' she said. 'We did attract the odd couple of stares but I didn't have a moustache in those days. She had a large sailor's hat with a bow that tied under the chin while I had been sporting a new panama. The only problem was the shoes. There was no way I could cram my feet into her button-up bootees and mine were far too large for her. Had to leave them behind and make it barefoot back to our hotel.

Luckily it was close to the beach. Anyway, we managed to get back to our rooms.' 'Did you enjoy wearing women's clothing?' I asked.

'Not the first time,' he said. 'Had to escape once from Baluchi tribesmen on camel back, disguised as a native woman. Didn't want to lose my private parts. They cut them off if they capture you, y'know.'

'Oh! How awful,' said Emily, breathlessly. 'Made it back to the cantonment, safe and sound. Just outside Quetta. Reported to the Colonel and had the devil of a row with the Adjutant.' 'Why?' asked Emily. 'Women not allowed in the mess except on Ladies Nights. He'd only recently been posted to the regiment. Didn't recognise me. Had to pull up my dress to convince the fellah that I was a man. Felt a complete fool, standing there in a sort of sari thing, waving my virile member in the Adjutant's face. “What's all this,” he said. “What the hell do you think it is?” I said. “A prick.

A British officer's prick. Attached to a British officer. I have urgent despatches for the Colonel.” At that moment a sepoy came rushing in to say that there was a camel loose on the parade ground and that it had left a large steaming pile of droppings right in front of the CO's verandah.' At this point in the story I couldn't help but notice that Becky and Hannah were choking back laughter and that Mrs. P-had an odd look in her eye. 'I didn't realise that the Punjab Rifles had ever been stationed in Baluchistan,' she said.

'Although of course my late husband and I spent most of our time in Bengal and the Deccan so I am no expert on the North West.'

Colonel Moore gave her a quizzical look, but she said nothing more. I also had begun to have some suspicions about the absolute veracity of some parts of the Colonel's account but it had long ago been firmly dinned into me by Dr White at Nottsgrove that it is the height of bad manners to question the accuracy of another person's story, especially if it is entertaining. Looking round the kitchen I could see that he had the full attention of his audience.

'Meanwhile, you were in a Brighton hotel bedroom, wearing your lady friend's clothes,' prompted Becky. 'Did you continue in this mode or did you change back?' 'Couldn't wait to get the wretched things off,' said Colonel Moore. 'Nor could she. Trouble was, she was quicker about it than I was. I was worried about splitting a seam or pulling a button off. She just unbuttoned herself and dropped my trousers. I was so excited at what was revealed that my member shot to attention and rather than fiddle about with the fastenings, I tried to pull her dress off over my head. Of course, I got completely caught up in the folds of the thing. Trapped helplessly. Couldn't see a thing.

She offered to help but instead of helping me out, she seized hold of my prick, began to rub it all over her titties. Very big they were. I could tell, though I'd not had the privilege of seeing them before.

'Next thing I knew, I was being guided into her orifice. A bit salty but very welcoming. Couldn't do a thing to help but I know that I fucked her from the front and then from behind. She was quite noisy, too. Remember I lost my balance at one point but she was all over me.

Just had to go where I was put. I kept asking to be helped out of her dress and into the daylight but she kept at it, ignoring me completely. “What you don't see, you don't miss,” she said, and she made sure that I didn't miss. Finally came all over her. I could feel her rubbing it all over her body. Made me help. Must say it was an amazing feeling, rubbing my cum over her titties and feeling them all swollen up under my hands.' 'What happened after you had finished?' I asked. 'She made me wait. I was trussed up like a turkey.

Her skirt had got twisted round my head. Tried to bite a couple of buttons off at one point but she realised what I was doing and told me to stop in no uncertain terms. Said that her dressmaker had only just finished it for her and she didn't want it ruined. Nothing I could do.

Remember her kissing my Thing. Could feel her tongue licking round the end. Then she went off and fished out another dress from the wardrobe.

I asked what was happening and she said that it would not be proper for me to see her without any clothes on since she was engaged to be married.' 'The curate that you mentioned earlier?' I asked.

'The same. Hadn't known about the chap before. She said that from now on she would have to live a life of complete respectability as a loyal wife, helping her husband in his duties in the parish in where ever it was.' 'Dorking,' I reminded him. 'That's it. Dorking instead of fucking.' 'I don't know Dorking,' said Becky. 'But I'm sure I'd prefer fucking.' 'Becky!' said her mother. 'There are some very pleasant places in Surrey. Take Woking for example.'

The maids and Tom the Tool were looking somewhat bewildered at these exchanges. 'I was in a situation in Bagshot once,' said Mary. 'But I didn't like it very much.' 'Isn't that in Hampshire?' I said. 'Enough of this geographical chit chat,' said Hannah. 'What happened next?' 'By the time she was good enough to release me from her clothing, she had dressed herself in a completely new outfit. What I saw before me was a picture of propriety. Her hair up, a high-collared dress with a cameo broach at her throat. Even gloves. Looked at me as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, let alone anywhere else. I was looking at her and imagining what she looked like with her clothes off. Mr. Pego began to rise again but she was quite adamant.' 'How unfair,' said Emily. 'Not to let you see what you had been enjoying only a few minutes before. I hope that I would never be so hard-hearted.* 'That's very kind of you, my dear,' said the Colonel. 'Of course where you are concerned, the opposite is true. I've seen but I've not touched.' 'That is quite different, Sir,' said Emily with a suddenly spirited air. 'What you saw, you saw not by invitation but by accident.' 'Well said,' interrupted Mrs. P-. 'You're right,' said the Colonel. 'I shouldn't have said that.' 'Not that I do not issue invitations,' said Emily, looking, I rather thought, in my direction. 'But just to finish the story,' said Becky. 'Did you never see her again in anything other than the most correct of circumstances?' 'Alas, no. Only fully clothed. Although,' he went on, 'It must be said that she allowed me to fuck her on the train back to Victoria. A farewell fuck. But she insisted that we kept the blinds down the whole time.

Shortly after that she was married and the last that I heard, her husband had been made personal chaplain to one of the northern bishops and they live in some comfort in the cathedral close. She makes it her business to help Fallen Women.' 'So in fact you never have actually fucked in the water, only close to it?' said Rosie. 'Ah, well,' said the Colonel. 'That's another story. Have I ever told you about my visit to the Roman Baths in Bath?' 'Enough,' said Mrs.

P-firmly. 'There is work to be done and a kitchen to be cleaned up.'