He'd be gone three hours.  What to do for three hours?  Clean the place up, for a start.  Make the bed, pick up the mess in the living room.  And the whole place reeked of stale brandy, with overtones of wanton sex.  Open the windows, get some air in here.

A half hour later, Patrice clicked the television on.  The bedroom was in order, everything in the living room picked up and put away.  The sound of the washing machine accounted for her clothes of the night before and those of Bryan's they'd been tangled with.  A light stain on the carpet marked the final home of most of the Calvados but the scent still hung in the air.  It was getting fainter, though, and there wasn't anything else to do about it right now.  Time to take a break.

Not much on this time of day, she thought as she flipped through the channels.  There was some sort of news special on a local channel so she paused there to take a look.

'...bizarre event.  As weave said before, the unidentified woman is reported to be regaining her size spontaneously but the authorities aren't releasing any details.  Well be back with another report at the top of the hour.'  The speaker was one of the interchangeable newsladies who populate all local news departments.  Her fake smile faded into a snack chip commercial.

Patrice continued to stare at the TV, not even noticing as one ad was replaced by another.  Unidentified woman regaining her size?  Gwen must have gotten to the police somehow and told them what had happened.  They'd be on their way right now.  She jumped to grab her things and get out of there.  Then she stopped in her tracks.  Hold on.  Wait a minute.  She had no place to run to;  they could surely find Bryan and then her.  It wasn't like they'd have to look far: same building, one floor up.  Anyway she hadn't done anything.  Gwen had shrunk herself.  Patrice sat back and nervously waited for the promised report, muting the annoying sound from the TV.

Only a minute or two later she heard it.  A low sound, a moan.  The hair on the back of Patrice's neck stood up and she felt a sudden lump in her stomach.  She listened intently but all was quiet.  After a tense minute, she began to relax again.  And heard the same low moan.  It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

It took a while to work up her courage but Patrice finally peeked through the kitchen door.  Nothing there.  No more noises.  It must have been her imagination after all but she thought shed better take a close look.  It was still almost ten minutes until the newscast and it wasn't like she had something better to do.  After a tour of the kitchen, looking under the table, into the corners, behind the stove even, she concluded there really was nothing there and turned back to the living room.

This time the moan was a little higher in pitch than before, with a little longer duration.

Heart thudding, Patrice spun around.  This time there was no question that shed heard it and she had a pretty good fix on its direction; somewhere near the sink.  Gingerly she opened the cabinet door beneath it.

At first she thought it was just a cloth of some sort, a rag draped over a brush or bottle or something standing next to the drainpipe.  Until it moved.  Her first reaction was to hop back a half step, reflexively afraid of a mouse.  But it was much bigger than a mouse and moved more purposely.  Abruptly disturbed, Gwen looked out, knew that she was discovered and darted from the cabinet.

Patrice didn't think, she reacted, and that quickness made the difference.  Gwen got only a couple of feet from the sink, Bryan's shirt draped over her making her stumble, when Patrice lunged to catch her.  She almost fell herself as she reached around Gwen's body.  Although small, Gwen wasn't helpless and she used the nails of her right hand to rake Patrice's wrist.  At the sudden sting, Patrice jerked her arm back, knocking Gwen's feet from her so that she fell tangled in the folds of the shirt.  Patrice retained a grip on the miniature woman's ankle and tugged her clear of the entangling cloth,  finally managing to pinion her arms over her head and pull her upright, naked again as the shirt that had covered her settled to the floor.  For such a small creature, her strength was amazing.  But at last she dangled in the air, snarling and kicking.  Patrice held her at arms length so her feet cleared the floor but it was a struggle and she knew she couldn't hold on long.  Gwen was still small but she was no longer tiny and she weighed enough that Patrice's arms were tiring already.

Suddenly Gwen stopped kicking and writhing.  She glared up at her captor.  'Okay, you got me,' she snapped.  'You can let me down now.'

Patrice stood stock-still while she caught her breath and worked to get her thoughts in order.  The last thing she had expected to find in here was Gwen.  Having found her, she would have expected her to be a lot smaller,  the doll-size she had been last night.  The Gwen she was holding was considerably larger; standing normally, she would be something less than the height of Patrice's waist.

'You can let me down,' Gwen repeated.

Patrice snapped out of her reverie and lowered her aching arms until Gwen stood on her own feet, her arms still pinned high over her head.  Patrice lowered her hands a touch more to let Gwen relax and then let go of one of her wrists, retaining a firm grip on the other.  'If you don't try to get away, I wont have to hang on so tight,' she offered, lowering her hand still more.

Gwen glared at her but made no effort to get away, not yet.  She knew that she couldn't get far even if she did slip free.  Better to wait for a better time.  She reached down with her free hand to retrieve the shirt that now served her for clothing and followed docilely as Patrice led the way into the living room.

So Gwen had grown, like the television said.  But the television couldn't have said that, they couldn't have known.  What was on the television, after all?  Patrice towed her small captive to the couch  and let go of her wrist.  Gwen looked at her with perhaps a little less contempt than before and effortlessly leaped onto the couch, where she draped Bryan's shirt over herself..  Patrice was struck anew by her strength and agility: Gwen hadn't scrambled, hadn't struggled, shed jumped as high as she was tall with casual ease.  Something else to wonder about, Gwen thought as she settled down on the couch, not next to Gwen but within arms reach.  'Something is on now,' Patrice told her.   'I'm not sure exactly what but I think we should watch this.'

The news had started but they hadn't missed much, just the initial teaser and a furniture store ad.  Patrice watched intently as the ad ended and the same newslady as before appeared. 'There are some late-breaking developments on the story weave been following all day about reports of a woman being shrunk in size.  Police and hospital authorities have confirmed that the woman,'  she looked down at some notes, 'by the name of Marianne Daley, is recovering from her ordeal and appears to be in fine condition.  In fact, she has asked for an end to her isolation.  In a few moments she will be brought down to a conference room at the hospital.  We're standing by for an interview with her.  Well be back as soon as it begins.'

Gwen grabbed the remote and muted the sound as a used-car salesman appeared on the screen.  Patrice was staring at the screen slack-jawed.  As the remote left her hand, she turned her head to dazedly consider the shrunken woman next to her.  Now she knew of two shrunken women in the world.  A spark of the excitement she had felt last night reawoke.

The used-car commercial ended abruptly and the newslady reappeared.  'We're back again with the latest on the shrunken woman story weave been following today.  Details are sketchy but authorities have confirmed that a woman was somehow shrunk to miniature proportions last night while she was working alone at a small local shipping firm.  She has apparently regrown to almost her normal size and is otherwise unharmed.  She's being brought to a conference room at the hospital here and were bringing you live coverage of her first appearance.'  The picture shifted to a view of a very podium.  Two women were approaching it from the side, one conservatively dressed, businesslike, the other in a loose top and pants.  She was young, excited and considerably shorter than the other.

The conservatively dressed woman leaned over to spoke into the microphone first.  She didn't look happy; exasperated was more like it.    'I'd like to say, first thing, that this public appearance is against the recommendations of the hospital and attending physicians.'  She began reading from a paper in her hand.  'Miss Marianne Daley, here, was admitted to the hospital last night after being transported here by ambulance.  She had called 911 from her place of work.  When she was admitted, she was much smaller than a normal person.'  She paused to consulted the page she had placed on the podium.  'Her height at that time was twenty-one inches.  Since then, she has grown more until,  at last measurement a few minutes ago, she stood fifty-eight inches tall.  We have no reason to think that her regrowth process has stopped or that she will not regain her original height of sixty-five inches.'  The spokeswoman looked up from the page, straightened and glared at the camera.  'As I have said, her public appearance at this time is against our recommendations.  However, our legal counsel informs us that we have no legal right to prevent Miss Daley from speaking to you if she so wishes.  I present Marianne Daley.'

Marianne was clearly  excited.  'I'm on TV?' she squealed as she stepped to the podium.  She didn't have to lean down to use the microphone.  'I've always wanted to be on TV.'  She looked directly into the camera and waved.  'Hi mom.  Hi Dale.'

Gwen rolled her eyes.  She'd recognized the little airhead right away, of course, and it was actually a relief to see her.  Obviously, she wasn't all the way back to her original size yet but she was pretty close and that was a good omen for Gwen's recovery.  A male voice came from off-camera.  'Miss Daley, can you tell us what happened to you.'

Marianne looked out, apparently at her questioner, with the incredulity of the witless.  'I got shrunk, you know.'  Her cheery smile returned.  'I was working extra, I needed the money, you know, and this, this woman pointed a shiny piece of junk at me and shrunk me.'  She paused to listen to some words that Gwen couldn't make out.  'Yeah, it was scary.  After she shrunk me she picked me up and said shed change me back and told  me not to tell anybody.  Then I must have passed out.  Then later...'  Marianne abruptly stopped speaking while her expression became unfocused.  She closed her eyes and moaned.  'It's starting again...yeah.  Yeah, oh yeah.'  Her hands dropped from where they had been holding onto the edge of the podium while her mouth opened in a low scream.  Abruptly the screen went dark before the newslady's face reappeared.

'We're having some technical difficulties with the feed from news conference,' she blandly lied.  'We'll return to the conference as soon as.'  The sound cut off as Gwen hit the mute button again.

Patrice tore her gaze from the screen to the miniaturized woman sitting on the couch near her.  'It happened to her the same as you,' she announced.  'Only she got bigger.  But so are you, right?'

'No kidding, Sherlock,' Gwen retorted.  'You picked that right up.'

'But how?'  Patrice began again.  'She said somebody else shrunk her.  Who...?'  Realization dawned in her at last.  'You!  You must have shrunk her and then you came here to shrink me and Bryan, only...'  Patrice broke off in mid-sentence, when it became obvious Gwen was paying her no attention.  The scorn on the small woman's face had dissolved into an almost dreamy expression.

'Oh,' she breathed. 'Ohhh.'  Her hands vanished into the folds of the shirt covering her as she reached for herself, crotch and breast.  'Ohhh,' she repeated.

Patrice reacted with alarm.  She reached over  to grab Gwen by the shoulders and turn her so they were facing.  She was about to ask what was wrong when the expression on the other woman's face made it clear.  And shed heard that moan before, a few minutes ago, in the kitchen.  Now it was louder, more insistent.  More intimate.  Without thinking, Patrice began to caress the tiny shoulders, to murmur in response, to draw the tiny body closer.  Then abruptly her lips twisted and she froze in horror.

Patrice was shocked at herself, shamed.  Her sexual and moral world view was pretty conventional: men and women got together and that was it.  One woman to one man at any given time, no third parties.  And women didn't get together with women, ever.  Ever.  But here she was, touching another woman as that woman had an obvious sexual experience.  Worse yet, she was feeling an irresistible thrill build in her as she did it.  She managed to resist the thrill; she jerked her hands back, face burning.

She jumped up from the couch and ran from the room in tears.  The bedroom door slammed behind her.

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