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After about an hour I was summoned into the kitchen where Martha and Weena each had a mug of tea. "No catastrophe?" I asked.

"No. Just girl-talk," said 'she-who-must-be-obeyed'.

"Did you talk to Angus?"

Martha nodded.

"So, will it be tomorrow or Sunday?"

"Tomorrow, if it's still okay, please."

"Of course it's still okay! What might have changed?"

"Gordy! Stop teasing her! She's nervous enough."

"Yes, dear."

"Martha?"

"Yes?"

"Have you had lunch with Angus?"

"Oh, yes!"

"What does he eat?"

"What?"

"Is he a vegetarian? Does he hate fish?" Martha giggled. "Does he eat green vegetables?"

"Patrick eats vegetables!" came a voice.

"I know. You're a good boy."

"Tell me a dream story?"

"In a little while."

"'Kay."

"Martha. I need to know what we can shop for in the morning. I guess a goanna and some yabbies and honey ants and baked roots will do, right?"

"Please, no, Gordy!"

"So ... what?"

"I don't know. Burgers. Chops. Potatoes."

"Patrick eats taters!"

"Weena, you try to talk this through with Martha. I'll go tell a story." I left.

The parrot-fish man, Yambirika, made a camp on Bickerton Island. After a while he became bored, so he dug a hole through the island to the water it floats on. And there he created two magic places where the aborigines, by performing a ritual, could create more parrot-fish.

At one of the places, Talimba, is a place where the sand contains many parrot-fish spirits. At breeding time, handfuls of this sand are thrown about and a song is chanted, and there are parrot-fish everywhere. At Bartalumba, the other place, the parrot-fish man became a rock. Here, the ritual consists of breaking off small bits of rock and throwing them into the sea.

Not only do the rituals increase the number of fish, they also make them easier to catch.

He was sound asleep. I returned to the kitchen.

"I know that story!" said Martha. "My ma told it to me."

"Right. You said she lived up north, near the Gulf. Most of the stories I tell him are ones I've heard or read. He has to learn all of these if he is to be nungungi."

"Are you serious?"

"Jimmy's nungungi named Weena nungungi and said that Patrick would be nungungi. He has a picture of Patrick, so that it can watch all that he does."

"I guess I didn't think through what was said. At Brisbane we were told to ignore the blacks' superstitions."

"Was that making you into open-minded scientists?"

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With a scissors that he found on her dressing table, he removed her nightie while she lay prone on the mattress. His head went immediately to her breasts, engulfing one in his mouth and sucking on her nipple. With his tongue he toyed with it until it began to respond. Donata was terrified, both of him and of this strange feeling in her body. Jeremy stayed on her chest for what seemed like an eternity until he finally released it from his oral grip and sat up. "You are the most beautiful...

A Different Kind of Therapist Chapter 2

For the second time, when I opened my eyes, I knew that I was no longer myself. Before I even looked around, I was prepared for what I would find. I had seen her when she walked through my door, and if only for a moment, I had a mixture of excitement and fear over what would transpire. Tiffany was a young woman in college that had had a rough life. She had been abandoned by a addict mother, abuse by an alcoholic mother, spent five years in foster homes (none of which was very good), and...

Love or Lust

We were making love. Well, that’s not quite true. We were having sex, wild, uninhibited, blow your mind, sex. I don’t know at what point it was transformed from making love to this erotic lustful adventure. All I know is it started with an innocent kiss, a little peck the on the lips, a little fondling of her breasts, my semi hard dick rubbing against her ass through our clothes, her hand against my crotch, my lips on her nipples and finally ended up with my tongue in her pussy while she sat on...

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