Because this is such an American reference, and from the late 60s, I think.

Bingo. If you track it from "The Pensioner", she's 48 or so when it happens, in 2001 or 2002. She was born in 1953, 11 years old when she goes to Richard Giles, just shy of 16 when she first sleeps with Rupert (note the reference to "Sergeant Pepper") and seventeen (1970) when Richard finds them out.

edit: BWAH! Nice twinnies, with the crossposting! Yes, she might be remote, but Rupert isn't. And she's not completely remote; she like the Beatles..... US slang was completely integrated, at least in London, at that point. Same way Carnaby Street slang was popular over here. (She's telling this in her early thirties or thereabouts, which will be established at story's end.)

Finished!

"You've got the littlest stomach," she said. "I like the way it dips in." Faith grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and poured some on my belly button. "Functional, too," she observed before dropping her head and using me as a shot glass.

At which point I had the last of my not-so-brilliant ideas for the night. Sweat's salty, bodies are salty, and the pH of some portions of the female anatomy tends towards the acidic, which gives you the lime. It's all just simple chemistry. Or maybe simple chemical, like ethanol. Which isn't all that simple, really, but does a good job of brain functionality impairment, almost as good as Faith, and that might just barely explain why I decided to push her head just a little further down...

Her enthusiastic taking up of the idea explains why that was the last of them. The traces of Cuervo stung, but not in a bad kind of way, more in a push-her-head-closer-and-scream kind of way that wound up turning into an open feedback loop where the harder she licked and sucked, the louder I yelled, and the louder I got, the harder she licked. I was reminded of systems theory and tightly coupled systems being more prone to wind up, get all unstable, and explode, which is pretty much what I did, knocking the bottle off the bed in the process.

Thank goodness for carpeting.

Faith slid out from between my thighs and let me catch my breath while she took off her clothes. As good as she looked with the bubbles, she looked even better without them, and that's not the ethanol and agave talking. I was still kind of fuzzy and light-headed, so I stroked her slowly and gently, until her breasts tasted more salty than soapy, and her pussy was wetter than a floodplain after a thunderstorm. We wound up in a tangled mess of hands and tongues and loud, sloppy noises--feedback loop again, which is bad because we're both pretty loud--finally passing out for good sometime in the middle of the night.

I woke up with my head located somewhere south of her knee and her breath tickling my toes. It was still dark, which meant I wasn't totally screwed, even if I was thoroughly fucked. I prodded her with my foot until she woke up.

"Faith?"

"What?" She blinked at me and yawned, obviously none to happy about being awake.

"I'm gonna go to my room before Charles gets back. Maybe we should keep this to ourselves for now?"

She shrugged and burrowed into her pillow. "Sure thing. But next time?"

"Yeah?" I didn't bother trying to tell either of us there wouldn't be one.

"Drinks are on me."

Excellent, then, deb. I was unsure of the exact time frame.

Connie is the font of evil, and we are pleased.

Deb, I'm breathless. I'm going to abuse the husband until he buys your books for me (or the library and then brings them home to me, I don't care) because this piecemeal stuff is going to kill me. I very much like your style.

I have a couple of questions. When was spiderman introduced? The spidey-sense felt anachronistic, but that's probably just me.

also:

it was very like Richard to send me out on a killing errand and not bother to leave a light on for me.

Is she saying me because she wouldn't expect Richard to leave a light on for Rupert? He was part of the errand, after all.

Wow, that feeling of foreboding at the end is just amazing.

Plei, you're killing me. Just excellent. Really damn hot. And perfectly in character. Fred needs to be drunk and/or baked more.

Plei, you could get me to like Faith. I'm holding out hope that sometime in the future I'll be able to change my opinion of her.

Deena, I doubt he ever even thinks of Rupert. That "stupid weak boy" is pretty much of a giveaway. It's weird; I hadn't realised until I was writing that bit that Richard actively resents his son. It does explain why he stayed unaware of the affair, though, doesn't it? He avoids the Boy Who Will Be Watcher as much as possible.

BTW, I wasn't even aware that "spider-sense" had anything to do with Sipderman; not being a comics-chick, I've never read them. I was using it purely in the biological sense, that a spider knows when their space is being invaded, and the approximate size of said invader, by the tremble of the web under their legs.

Plei! THERE HAD BETTER DAMNED WELL BE A NEXT TIME!

Plei, LOVE the last line!

I was reminded of systems theory and tightly coupled systems being more prone to wind up, get all unstable, and explode, which is pretty much what I did, knocking the bottle off the bed in the process.

So VERY Fred!

Also, hotter than the SUN.

Let's see if Plei can get me to change my opinion of Fred.

BTW, I wasn't even aware that "spider-sense" had anything to do with Sipderman;

Huh. But all of us read it that way...