Probleme der High Society
- 3 years ago
- 31
- 0
Each day when returning home, I marvel at the myriad of people in this neighborhood. They come from all walks of life, Latinos, Blacks, Mexican, Asians, Portuguese, and everything in between, and of course, a very few whites. I am one of the latter. The reasons I chose to live in this area is the cosmopolitan atmosphere and my love for the women of the various races. Their beautiful complexions have always commanded my interest and wonderment; besides, it is close to my work.
The apartment building is a three-story walk up, mine is on the top floor. It is a very old structure, loaded with character, high ceilings and tall narrow windows. My choice of this building was for one reason, it is spotless. My Portuguese landlady is forever cleaning. The halls are bright, all the lights work and the maintenance is top rate. There are four apartments on each floor. Mine faces the street and I spend many relaxing hours looking out the window enjoying the view of my neighbors, especially the women, the younger the better.
My name is Leigh Rockton; at thirty nine and still single, I am very comfortable with my life. The apartment is only four blocks from the plant so I use a bicycle; it saves time, money and keeps me in shape, not to mention that I avoid all the traffic hassles, especially coming home. The streets are narrow in this section of the city and traffic congestion from all the neighboring plants last up to three hours. On my bike, I am home in five minutes. My vehicle is stored in a garage behind the building ready for use, usually for a trip to the grocery store.
Three months ago a young black family consisting of what I assume is mother and daughter moved into the apartment beside mine; I watched them move in, but never really got a good look at them. If there is a male of the family, he has yet to reveal himself.
Lately the noise of items hitting our shared wall has become disturbing. Sometimes it sounds like a war with the shouting and the other noises. It is getting to the point of my complaining to the landlady or visiting my neighbor to request they keep the noise down to a dull roar.
My job as a shift supervisor at the parts plant requires that I be alert and on my toes at all the times to make sure we meet our production targets. It also means a nice quarterly bonus if it happens under budget. Fortunately, I haven't missed one in five years. To keep bright and bushy tailed, I need my sleep.
It is spring. Usually when I arrive at the apartment after my shift, I enjoy a shower and then a meal. With soft music playing in the background it gives me time to unwind; this is my thinking time as well as I pursue my favorite vocation of girl watching. Any problems at the plant are usually resolved in this time. Peace and quiet have that effect on me, allowing my mind to run the scenarios that usually allow me to come to a resolution. However, that is not to be today! There is a war going on next door and it is reaching new peaks. The items hitting the wall have so much force it is rattling my dishes. Pissed off, I slip into my slacks and charge out of my apartment and hammer on the neighbor's door.
Waiting, I can hear shouting and screaming. Finally the sounds cease and the sound of footsteps coming towards the door has me waiting to state my case. When the door opens, I am tongue-tied. The woman before me is beautiful, dressed in an open robe displaying her white bra and matching V-string. Tongue-tied, I just stare, her breasts are large and full, her nipples very evident in her bra, Janet Jackson has nothing on her and no nipple rings. Her pubes are molded in the V-string; long black hairs escape the edges. She is a black Venus.
"What do you want?"
Her harsh voice brings me back to the reason I am at her door.
"I live next door. I don't know what the hell is going on here, but the noise is so loud, it disturbs the hell out of me. Do you think you can tone it down?"
"I am sorry to disturb you, but it is my daughter, I have little control over her. She has these tantrums and starts throwing anything she can get her hands on. What misses me hits the wall. I don't know what to do?"
Tears start to flow, touching my Achilles heel; the one thing that really gets to me is a woman in tears. She is looking down, giving me another chance to stare at her beautiful body. Her tummy looks so soft and inviting. Her belly button is large and deep. Everything about her is attractive. Her full lips are screaming at me to be kissed, her neck is long and smooth. What I want to do is hold her. Like I said, her beautiful, dark chocolate complexion has me nearly tongue-tied.
"My name is Leigh Rockton."
At this point, I have nothing else to say. Her scent flows out the door.
"Won't you come in, Mr. Rockton? I'm Annisa Graves."
She stands aside as I enter the apartment. The floor is covered with the missiles from the recent throwing match with her daughter.
"Please excuse the mess. My daughter, Danielle, just had another tizzy fit."
She leans over to pick up some of the items giving me a view of her breasts as they fall loose of the bra. Her nipples are large and long. Her complexion is the darkest chocolate I have seen; it seems to have a distinct sheen. My desire for a confrontation with my neighbor quickly changes to a desire to get to know her much better. She offers me a seat on the sofa, where she joins me.
There is a noise off to the left, looking in that direction is another shock. Before me in a doorway is a very bare provocative black ass, exposing a young pussy and tightly puckered beautiful asshole. The pussy is spread enough to give me a view of a very moist pink interior framed by a matt of thick dark brown curly hair. Her daughter Danielle is flashing us. Then she stands up not bothering to look my way, slamming the door shut.
"Mr. Rockton, I am so embarrassed. This is what I have to put up with most days; fortunately, she doesn't do this at school. It is like she is punishing me for losing her father."
Again the tears start, her body shudders as she sobs. I move over to comfort her; she looks at me and then puts her head into the nape of my neck. Finally she stops crying, but doesn't move. There is no controlling my hardon. Annisa's hair is rubbing my chin, leaning over I am able to subtly bury my face in it. The scent of her shampoo just re-enforces the rigidity of my hardon. She moves and pulls away.
"I am sorry about that, but I needed a shoulder to cry on. It is so hard trying to raise Danielle on my own."
Her breathing is heavy as she tries to control the sobs. Her breasts rise and fall. She is really a knockout. I wonder about what kind of male would abandon her. Watching her, she closes her eyes and snuggles into me again.
"Thank you for being here Leigh, it is so nice to have someone hold me again."
Holding her is not a chore, she is soft, and her skin flawless and she smells so good. Under different circumstances, I would be putting the make on her. Just looking at all her assets has me panting. Slowly my hand caresses her back. How I would love to guide her over to my apartment and into my king sized bed.
"I am glad to help. How long have you been alone?"
"My husband was killed in an auto accident three years ago when Danielle was eight. He doted on her and Danielle adored her father. They were inseparable. She took it very hard and really hasn't been the same since. She is seeing a psychiatrist weekly, but it doesn't seem to be helping."
"I didn't realize what problems you were facing when I knocked on your door."
"I would have done the same. I really try to reason with Danielle, but sometimes she just goes off the deep end."
"If there is anything I can do please don't hesitate to call me. If you have a paper and pencil I will give you my number."
Annisa stands and her robe opens fully. She doesn't seem concerned about the show she is giving me. Her hips are flared just enough to make everything about her so desirable. Her V-string is a like a magnet to my eyes. Escorting me to the door she takes my hand and squeezes it. I don't know if that is a sign.
Over the next three weeks I make an effort to watch out for her, on the street, on the staircase, everywhere. Twice she makes an appearance coming back into the building dressed as if she is returning from a job. I assume her daughter is at school.
The noise from her apartment seems to have quieted down, or maybe since I know what Annisa is facing my subconscious accepts it. Each night I hope that she will call, but so far nothing.
It has been over a month since we talked. Coming home one evening, I am following a young girl on the street. She is wearing a school uniform consisting of a skirt, white blouse and blazer. The skirt is very short showing off a pair of very shapely, dark chocolate hued legs. The skirt swishes from side to side indicating there are interesting hips concealed beneath the skirt. Is it Annisa's daughter, Danielle? I have seen her ass and her pussy, but never her face. When she turns into my building, my equilibrium starts to get shaky. Slowly following this mystery in front of me I have an exciting view of her red thong buried in her ass crack as we climb the stairs. This close her scent is very evident. I follow her to the third floor and watch her go to Annisa's apartment. She turns and looks at me, eye to eye. She has a face of an angel, maybe a bit misguided, but an angel none-the-less. She doesn't say anything; she just opens the door and quickly disappears.
Shaken, I enter my apartment. Danielle is a very provocative young preteen. Children have never been of interest to me before, however, Danielle is the embodiment of everything I hold dear when looking at a woman. She has a dark complexion, she is beautiful, and she is exotic. How stupid can I be? She's only eleven.
Friday turns out to be a day from hell. Murphy's Law kicks in. At the end of my shift I drag my ass to my bike and head home. Two days of rest will be appreciated. A hot shower helps take the tension of the day away. A TV dinner is on the menu and some television before I turn in. But that was not to be. In the middle of the program the first missile hits the adjoining wall, follow by several others. The voices of both can be heard, but they are not discernable. A door slams and then some is knocking at my door.
Slipping on my robe and opening the door, Annisa greets me.
"I am at my wits end, Leigh. I don't know what to do?"
She is dressed in a one-piece red nighty that ends just below her crotch. Her large nipples are obvious; however, that is the furthest from her mind. Her body is trembling.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I really don't know. Nothing I have attempted has worked."
"Do you want me to talk to her?"
"Oh, would you? Maybe a man can get through to her."
Feeling foolish in my robe, I proceed to knock on the door.
"Danielle, it is Leigh, your next door neighbor, I am coming in so don't bean me with an ashtray."
Slowly opening the door, I peer in looking for Danielle, alert for anything whistling through the air. All is quiet on the battlefront. Slipping in and then closing the door, I spot Danielle watching me. Her eyes are ablaze with fire. She, like her mother, must have been preparing for bed as she is dressed in a white two-piece baby doll type of nighty. For one so young, she is well endowed, must be her mother's genes. The top barely covers her budding breasts; the bottom hasn't got much more material than a small handkerchief. By the look on her face, she realizes the power she has over men.
"What do you want? Where is mom?"
"Your mom is in my apartment, I am here hopefully to help. I thought maybe you would like a man to talk to, your mom said you were very close to your dad."
"You can't replace my daddy."
"That never crossed my mind; I am certainly not the daddy material for anyone. Hell, I have never been married. No woman in her right mind would ever marry me."
That gets me a grin, some of her hostility is ebbing away. Danielle's legs are flawless, her tummy, like her mom's, is flat and sporting a very large and deep belly button. Even in her current state of mind, she strikes me as beautiful; her hair is pulled to the back of her head in a haphazard ponytail. Her face is beautiful, with full moist lips. Her eyes are shining and full of fire. The skimpy bottoms do not cover the obvious mat of pubic hair that has escaped. An old soldier is stirring.
"You don't have a girl friend?"
"Not at the present, the last one left me for a seventy year old man; he had money."
This time I get a giggle. The hostility is eroding quickly. She moves towards me and sits on the arm of a stuffed chair. The strain it puts on her nighty bottoms gives me a view of very distinct love lips, and I am sure the protrusion in between them is a very interesting set of minor labia. My throat is getting dry as I try to control my zeal and concentrate on why I am here.
"Danielle, my goal is to help if I can. If you want to talk anytime, please just knock on my door. Your mom loves you very much and wants you to be happy."
"I know she does and I love her, but sometimes I get so frustrated! It never happened when daddy was with us. He knew how to take care of me."
Now you could read a lot into that statement. She was eight when she lost her dad, I wonder just how close they were.
"I have no doubt you enjoyed many things with your dad."
"Daddy was always there for me. He could always make me feel better if I had a bad day."
"Well, if you need someone to talk to, and you think I may be able to help, please just let me know."
"Ok, I will. Will you ask my mom to come back now? I'm feeling better and I promise not to throw anything."
"Will do; that will make us both feel better, now I can get some sleep."
Back in my apartment, Annisa has lain down on the sofa and is fast asleep. She is on her back, with one foot on the floor the other on the sofa. From this angle it is very apparent her nighty is the only thing she is wearing. My heart is pounding as I stare at the wonders before me. Annisa's pussy is exposed. Her chocolate love lips are large and puffy. Her minor labia extend a good two inches from her moist lips, a multitude of colors, from black, grayish and pink and every shade in between. Her beautiful pink clitoris extends a good inch and is as thick as my thumb; it is coated with moisture and glistens in the light. I don't want to wake her because then the beautiful sight will go away. The hardon I am sporting pushes the robe up and parts the fold, my cock head is sticking out. I know where it wants to be buried. Being a gentleman, I take one last look at her and head to the kitchen. I make enough noise to wake the dead in the pretence of making a pot of coffee. The racket should wake Annisa. When I walk into the room she is sitting up and heaven is hidden from my eyes.
"Danielle asked me to have you return to the apartment. She is feeling better now. I am going to make a pot of coffee and if you're interested, you could join me for a cup after you check on her."
"I really appreciate you talking to Danielle, it may help. I hope she realizes that we are all on her side."
Annisa stands, straightening out her nighty and leaves. The sight of her nether lips and minor labia has me shaking. Her clitoris is the largest I have ever seen. Of course, I wonder if she passed that gene on to her daughter. After pouring myself a fresh coffee, my hands shake as I bring the cup to my mouth. What an evening.
After the second cup, I am resigned to the fact Annisa is not returning. Hell, even if she did, I am sure she wouldn't spread her legs and tell me to look. But I have to admit it is a wonderful thought.
Just as the TV news is coming to an end; there is a soft knock on the door. Tying my wrap I am greeted by Annisa, she is still in her nighty; however, she has a matching robe covering most of her. She is sporting a very exciting shade of red lip-gloss and has lined her eyes with an off-white shadow; the effect has me staring. A smile sweeps her face as she watches me. Coming back to the present, I feel like a fool.
"Annisa, you took me by surprise. When you didn't come back right away I thought you had retired for the night."
"No surprise intended. It has been a long time since a man did a double take when looking at me. Thank you. Danielle just fell asleep. I can go if you are going to bed."
Going to bed is on my mind, but not alone. Moving to one side after realizing I am blocking the door, she walks by me drowning me in her scent. Hell, it is provocative, but not as provocative as the scent that could come from between her legs. She walks over to the sofa, sits and crosses her legs, showing a beautiful expanse of skin.
"Do you still have some coffee left?"
"I do, hang on for a sec; one cup coming up! What is your mix?"
"Just enough milk to color it please."
Returning with two cups of steaming coffee, I hand her one intending to sit on the sofa chair opposite her. She looks at me and pats the cushion beside her. Who am I to refuse a beautiful lady?
"I don't know what you said to Danielle, but whatever it was, don't forget it. She hasn't been this content since her dad died. She actually kissed me and told me she really loved me and was so sorry for being such a pain in the ass."
"Can't think of anything I said that would have that effect on her. I just mentioned that if she needed a male to talk to she could call on me. She did say she really missed her dad and that they were very close. I bet he doted on her."
"That he did, she wouldn't go to sleep unless her dad said good night. She didn't even want me in the room. Dan said all he did was kiss her, but she was embarrassed to have anyone watch. I thought it was so cute."
During the conversation Annisa tells me she is only twenty nine, she and Dan met at a track meet, he was a junior trainer for a cross town school, the arch rivals of her high school. She was a cheerleader and during a cheer twisted her knee. Dan rushed to her aid and from that point on pursued her continually. When she relented she did fall in love with him. She was pregnant when they married.
They had a wonderful life together; just before the accident she and Dan were talking about having another child. Fortunately, she never conceived because just taking care of Danielle is very demanding; she can't imagine how she would have coped with a baby as well. With our cups empty, Annisa moves towards me and snuggles into my arms. I pull her close, hugging her.
"I hope you don't mind Leigh, you are the first man I have been this close to since Dan. It took a long time for my feelings for him to ease, prior to this, even thinking about men who I considered dating felt like cheating."
My face is so close to her hair, her shampoo and her scent have me rock solid. My cock is pushing up on my robe; there is nothing I can do about it. I notice that her robe is open, giving me a view of the valley between her breasts. It is a dark void that I want to fall into. Of course she happens to look upwards as I am enjoying the view. Shit, the heat of my blush fills my face. She starts to laugh.
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“How did it go?” Rachel asked. “Interesting, but inconclusive. I got Sean interested, though. So I may learn more tomorrow.” “Is it very complex?” “Actually, I don’t think it is. I’m not even certain that it’s criminal ... it may just be unethical or unprincipled.” “I got some vegs and fresh pasta for dinner.” “Sounds good. I want to Google one thing, if you don’t mind. But I want to hear about your day, later.” He looked up “Adani” and located several pieces concerning the case and the...
Sayuri was punctual, as Rachel had expected, and a ‘VISITOR’ badge was easily obtained for her. “The Gallery is quite extensive,” Rachel said, “Are there areas you’re interested in?” Sayuri pointed at a poster for a calligraphy show. “No problem.” [Calligraphy, or beautiful hand-writing, is considered the highest artistic achievement in many Asian cultures. Drawn from the Gallery’s collection and enriched with a significant loan from the Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, this exhibition...
“How are you doing?” Patrick asked as he arrived home. “Good. I wrote some and had a long talk with Sayuri.” “Ooh?” “She really likes Al. Possibly seriously. But she thinks her father will explode. She also knows that Al has been sexually active and she’s quite virginal.” “Not my problem.” “No. But it may be mine. I’m going to call Al and ask about his intentions.” “You sound like a Victorian parent.” “No, I’m here in New South.” Patrick stared at her for a moment. “You’re not...
By the time Samuel was eight months old, Patrick had determined five more cases, only two of which were ‘simple’, the others being both time-consuming and complex. Rachel was working hard on the revisions of the Dupain and the Williams chapters of her dissertation. So Patrick had spent an increasing amount of time caring for Samuel – and once Samuel was into quasi-food, six or seven hours at a time. “Quasi-food” -- pureed vegetables, fruit and meat; Cheeri-Os, pieces of bagel; then bits of...
I really wasn’t thinking about anything….just kind of rolling along… so it took a few seconds for her to register on my radar. Sneaking up toward 60 my eye sight isn’t what it once was but even at a distance I could tell that a very shapely woman was standing by the side of the road….and she was not happy! As I approached I let my truck slow and focused on the woman in the dark shorts and top….long dark hair, legs from here to heaven, with a gorgeous dark olive complexion. Her face was...
AUTHOR’S NOTE This is another story arising out of the seemingly innocuous situation of a young couple going into a forest to have a picnic lunch and make out a little while they’re there. The first story I submitted that started out that way, got mangled up in the submission process, and only a little bit made it through. Later I re-submitted it, slightly rewritten, under the title ‘Peril in the Pines’ in seven chapters, and it came out all right. This story starts out the same way, but it...
WARLORDS AND OTHER NOBLEMEN On Monday morning Val and I each got a note that was folded double and stapled that way, which was unusual. Mine asked me to stop in the captain’s office before going home that night. Val turned to me with hers in her hand and raised her eyebrows. I nodded. Then I laughed out loud at how easy and natural our non-verbal communication seemed. Closeness and sincere love seemed to overcome all difficulties. I put an arm around Val’s shoulders and added a little squeeze...
She woke, stretched, shuddered, gritted her teeth, squeezed her vaginal muscles and expelled a slim, silvery device, shivered, sighed, licked it and put it on the table beside her bed, smiling and thoroughly aroused, dripping, quivering, her nipples distended and clit trembling, ready for another lover. She crawled across the carpeted floor, leaving a spotty trail of slime, made sure the gnarled dildo was on securely, licked its domed head and then mounted the modified Sybian machine, swung her...
I have been celibate for the last four years of my life. In those last four years I haven't had sex with anyone except the five sisters. And, before you ask, I am not a fat slob who is unlucky with women. I am what many have described as quite the eye candy. I am Six feet tall with washboard abs, a decent size dick, a killer sense of humor and a wife more beautiful than Ava Gardner. Yes, I have a wife. Now you know why this story is in the Loving Wives section of your favorite website. I...
On Monday, Patrick called the Best Western at 13:00, but Olwen had not yet arrived. He left a message with his home number and his cell. And he thought about calling Sarah Mitchell, but decided to wait till after speaking to Olwen. He looked at what Rachel had written and thought about it. Were pictures like literature? C.S. Lewis wrote: A work of (whatever) art can be ether ‘received’ or ‘used’. When we ‘receive’ it we exert our senses and imagination and various other powers according...
“What are you doing today?” Rachel asked. “Thinking and writing. You?” “I’m off to the ‘Our lands’ show at the Gallery. It’s in its third or fourth week.” “What’s it about?” “The blurb says: Works from the Gallery’s collection that explore the tensions, conflicts, suspicions and political struggles that are central to any discussion about rights to land in Australia. I know that works by Gordon Bennett, Daniel Boyd, Brenda L. Croft, Destiny Deacon, Gordon Hookey and Djambawa Marawil are...
“Did you ever think about how much Australia resembles the American West?” “Are you kidding?” Rachel responded. It was Saturday. Patrick had narrated his meeting with Madam Minister, and Rachel had finished her gallery review for the Herald. Patrick had picked up another of his boyhood favourites, Riders of the Purple Sage. “Listen, the is the first chapter of Riders: ‘She wanted the sleepy quiet pastoral days to last always. Trouble between the Mormons and the Gentiles of the community...
“Are you OK?” Rachel asked. “Tired. Six hours driving and nearly three in Milbrodale. Plus lunch.” “I’ll get something ready for dinner.” “How was your day?” “Somewhat troubling. I was at the Gallery. I went to get another look at Emily Floyd’s installation. Really to walk around in it. The pieces are quite large.” “Is that what troubled you?” “No. It was the whole thing. Remember last week we were talking about cultural appropriation?” “Of course.” “Well, I no longer know what it is....
“Cut out two of the Flood books and one Zdanowicz. And Pritchard’s book on cameras. Maybe Fine Houses of Sydney, too.” “Are you kidding?” Patrick had just finished reading the final (Rachel hoped) version of her proposal for Dr. Garshin. He’d suggested only a few tweaks to the text. But this was nearly a quarter of her bibliography! “Be realistic. Your future adviser has to show power. It’s important to him to find fault. Two or three years down the road, he’s going to take credit for the...
Over lunch Patrick’s actions were clarified: he would communicate with the Minister as soon as possible and let Roy know the tenor of the conversation. He would then talk to the Council and to the group in the west. If necessary, Patrick would travel west, but his role was as a mediator, not an adjudicator. “Always a middle-man,” he sighed. “Better than either the hunter or the prey.” A chuckle ran around the table. “I will call the Minister in the morning.” “Not this afternoon?” “The...
Once the Beechcraft Baron was past Lithgow there was little to see. Flat is flat. It was only a bit over an hour to Parkes. The next leg ... Parkes to the Darling was even less fascinating. Eddie had been a bushpilot for a decade, then worked for the Flying Doctor Service [the RFDS one of the largest and most comprehensive aeromedical organisations in the world. It provides emergency and primary health care services for those living in rural, remote and regional areas of Australia]; “now I’m...
The weekend passed quickly. Patrick devoted Saturday morning to writing a summary of his flight to Menindee and his suggestions. He pointed out that the group was aware of the arrangements made in Kakadu, NT, in the landmark agreement that gave the traditional owners, through the Gundjeihmi Aboriginal Corporation, the right of veto and consultation over all aspects of the work on their land; and that the Mirrar people, supported by thousands of protestors, had successfully forced Energy...
No further calls disrupted Patrick on Monday. Tuesday served as a major contrast. The Minister’s PA called to ask whether he could come to a meeting at 1400. He had barely gotten off the phone when Jason called. Apparently he had also been “invited.” Patrick read him the Tribunal passage, emphasizing “Normally, the land will be passed down to future generations in a way that recognises the community’s traditional connection to that country.” “Interesting,” Jason said, “I’ll do a bit of...
It wasn’t till Friday that Patrick heard from Jason. “I now understand what Jenny had in mind!” he began. “You’ll have to be more detailed than that,” Patrick responded, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” “She had an idea when we met. She said we’d ‘hear’ in a few days. Well, I think I’ve just heard. I know you don’t follow what goes on in Canberra. Well, yesterday King, the MP for Brand...” “Just south of Perth,” Patrick interrupted. “Yes. She rose to ‘inquire’ as to the status of...
Patrick was asleep when he became part of the Dreaming. The Dreaming is many things in one. Among them, it is a kind of narrative of things that once happened; a kind of character of things that are still happening; and a kind of logos or principle of order transcending everything significant for Aboriginal man. It is cosmogony, an account of the start of the universe, a story about creation. It is also a cosmology, an account of how creation became an ordered system. Patrick thought how the...
“I’m just going to write for several days,” Rachel announced at breakfast. “I want to bang out a draft of what I hope to turn in next month. Do you think Dr. G. will be in the week after Easter?” “No idea. What does the UNSW calendar say?” Rachel typed it in. “No luck. Recess 14 to 23 April. I’m not sure I can get it done by the eleventh.” “Do as much as you can by the tenth and email it to him. Ask for an appointment on the second or the ninth of May.” “OK. I should get a respectable...
“I’ll be back, Adelotus,” Patrick said later in the afternoon. “I think that if I give you most of a day a week, you can keep your head above water.” “Ah, you remember! That would be good of you. What were you thinking?” “Tuesdays or Wednesdays.” “Either would be fine. Thank you for what you did today.” “And thank you. We should keep one another informed.” “Yes. Perhaps when it’s over, you could write a piece of your own.” “Perhaps.” Adelotus brevis was Sean’s ‘totem’. The tusked...
“Does Canberra shut down for a week at Easter?” Patrick asked. “Probably, but I’m not sure. My dad would know. I owe them a call, anyway. What time is it?” “A bit after ten.” “They’ll be up, even if it’s Saturday.” It was a half hour before Rachel emerged from the bedroom where she’d been chatting. “Everything’s closed from Wednesday the 12th through Monday the 17th. But a lot of the government offices are shut down for all of the two weeks,” she reported. “But the big news is that Al’s...
“It may not last,” Rachel said when she got home. “What may not last?” “Al and Sayuri. She’s very Japanese. She’s quite demure about everything.” “That may be just what Al needs. Eddie was very aggressive. And that really pretty one from around here. Maybe he just needs to finish his degree, get a job and set up housekeeping. Sarah’s not like me; he doesn’t need to be like you. What are the pop-psychology theories about second children?” “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll Google later. How was...
“I still say it may not last,” Rachel said when Patrick got home. She went on to relate her conversation with Al and her advice that he talk to their mother. “Well, I wouldn’t sell either of them short, yet. The most unlikely pairings occur: I recall you predicting that Sarah and Henry were in a carnal relationship, but weren’t interested in marriage.” “True. My ‘spider-sense’ wasn’t working. Anyway, what was your day like?” “I read several things, had an idea, followed it a bit, and...
Easter Monday isn’t a holiday in New South Wales, as it is in the UK and in Canada, but not everything is open. So Patrick was surprised when a large, heavy parcel was delivered. From her reaction, he could tell that Rachel wasn’t. The package was opened and proved to contain the two volumes of the new edition of The Australian National Dictionary: Australian Words and Their Origins, gift-wrapped. “Happy early Birthday!” said Rachel. “This is wonderful! I know how expensive it was. And I...
Patrick got home only a little past noon. He was clearly somewhat depressed, and Rachel winkled the tale out of him. “Don’t let it get you. Reality is like that. Nonetheless, I want to bring a new Hollister into the world.” “Right. And I want to help.” Later, Rachel asked: “Dress nice?” “I think so.” “Then we’d best drive. OK?” “Yes. I’m going to shower first.” “Me first, I’ll need to dry my hair!” Later, Rachel asked: “What’s still irking you?” “I’m bothered by Craig’s pointing out...
“Well, now we’re sure.” Patrick said as they arrived home. “You were wrong. You’re at least two months and possibly three along. And it appears to be one of indeterminate gender.” “I must have been fertile within days of stopping the pill!” “So we know your metabolism works well.” “Don’t be snarky.” “And it doesn’t look as though we’ll have to change our diet much. We already eat everything she talked about.” “Yes. She didn’t even think I needed folic acid supplements.” “Yes. When she...
Michiko and Sarah were excessively excited. Chaz, Al and Henry seemed to take Rachel’s pregnancy as a normal biological event. The dealers were happy with the text and the selection of illustrations (Patrick had suggested six, knowing that only four would be used. The dealers suggested that Patrick give a presentation in the ACT, as he could give a presentation at the Aboriginal Dreamings Gallery. Rachel was delighted: she would see her parents and view the Dupains and the Williamses at the...
Michiko offered to come to Sydney for the last weeks of Rachel’s pregnancy. After a few minutes’ discussion, Rachel declined the offer. She countered it with Michiko coming from Canberra for the baby’s first week at home. Patrick promised to phone from the hospital. “What will you call him?” she asked. “We haven’t decided. Something ordinary, but not John or George...” Rachel told Patrick about the call when he returned home. “What will we call him?” “That which seems appropriate. One of...