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Late Saturday morning we walked along King Street. We went into Red Chili, but nothing seemed appealing. At The Urban Store there were just the sort of tee shirts I'd wanted: crimson, emerald, peacock blue, forsythia.

"Can I get more than one?" I asked Rachel.

"Why not? You'll still have something when you spill sauce on the one you're wearing Sunday!"

"Nasty girl! I should beat you for that!"

"Oh, please, sir!" We both laughed at that.

I bought an emerald and a blue. They were quite dear. I also found a pair of green silk hose. I used VISA.

"That should hold them tomorrow!"

"Hungry?" I asked.

"No, but we should walk over and do some food marketing."

We walked back to a bit past the bend in King and purchased some leaf lettuce, tomatoes, a cucumber, and a sack of potatoes. Then bread, milk, butter, black olives and some cheese.

"This will hold us for a few days, but we need to do some major marketing," Rachel said.

"Yes, dear," I sighed. "Can we go to a cheese shop? I'd like some real cheese."

"What's wrong with the Deli on King?"

"It's just not broad enough."

"Okay then, you find one."

"I'll ask tomorrow."

We had salad for lunch. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Where?"

"Just up King and City Road to Victoria Park. We could take something to sit on and some books. It looks dry enough."

"Fine. We can get drinks from one of the vendors."

And so we did that. I reread Upfield's An Author Bites the Dust, as murder in a fictitious Melbourne suburb was the closest I could get to Sydney (actually, the one about the Kelly Gang would be nearer in distance, but further in reality). Rachel took her book on the folktales of Indians in the American north-west. We had a fine time: together, comfortable, peaceful. After a few hours we walked home, stopping to get some take-out from Thai Times. After dinner, we went to bed for peaceful togetherness.

We cleaned house and lazed about Sunday. Then we got dressed and I drove downtown to Cowper Wharf. After a brief hunt, I located a space that appeared to be legal on Sunday.

"Do I look okay?" Rachel asked when we were in the lift.

"Ravishing," I responded.

Winnie's door was open and noise filled the vestibule. We just walked in. There must have been two dozen people there. We were most likely the youngest by a decade. We were spotted almost instantly.

"Oh, there you are! Come in! There are so many folks for you to meet." Winnie was hostess and mistress of ceremonies. She introduced us to a couple near the entry and then towed Rachel off, saying "You must meet the Gallery chair!"

"Oh, well," I said to the couple. "This way I know who counts."

"I know the feeling, sweet," the woman said. "He [head gesture] goes off to talk business or golf and I get abandoned."

"A man would be a fool to abandon you, ma'am," I said.

"Aren't you cheeky!" she responded. "Can I fix you a drink?"

She moved towads a table where a white-jacketed man was serving.

"Sir?" I cast an eye over the bottles. "I'll have a glass of the Viognier, please."

"Are you a connoiseur?" my new companion asked.

"Hardly, but I'm quite familiar with this one. My uncle owns the terroir."

"The vineyard?"

"Not quite. The group of vineyards. A terroir consists of the site- or region-specific characteristics of a wine. I recognized the label as from a hillside near St. George."

"Oh! You're a Queenslander! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Patrick Hollister. My pleasure. And you?"

"Mireille Colbert." She put out a long white hand with dark red nails. It was faintly moist when I took it.

"Well, Mrs. Colbert..."

"Mirry."

"Mirry. I'm not from Queensland. My father was born there, but I'm from Perth."

"Oh. Do you know Winnie well?"

"She's been a friend of the family for ... uh ... decades."

"Very tactful, Patrick." Mirry was maneuvering me about, like an angler with a prize fish. And it was clear what she was planning. But I spotted something on a wall.

"Pardon me, but might we look at that painting?"

"That one?" she pointed. "The one with that curve of dots?"

"Yes. It's a Fred Williams. Quite striking."

"You don't look like a painter."

"Oh, I'm not. The south-eastern Australian painter can be recognized by his poor manners and paint-spattered extremities. Large solitary, they band together briefly at gallery openings to criticize the exhibitor."

Mirry gave a shriek. "Oh, my! You hit it! You must be a performer. A stand-up comedian?"

"Wrong again. But I do want to look at the Williams." I moved towards it, sipping my wine. In the meantime a soft-looking woman in a too-brief orange dress had made her way over, attracted by Mirry's shriek of laughter.

"Laura, this is my new friend Patrick! He's the very funniest! Patrick, tell Laura what you said."

"Hello, Laura. I'm afraid I can't recall what it was that set Mirry off. It was just a spur-of-the-moment remark." Laura was wearing a shopful of scent. The Williams was really fine. It was a decade or so after ours, a vertical canvas with a shallow arc of dabs running vertically.

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The next day i woke up late, everyone had gone to work except for my aunt who was sitting on the bed. She was looking at me, i didnt know what to say to her, she still had her nightie on, "you should have a bath" these were the only words she spoke as she got up and left the bedroom, in a few seconds i could hear the water running. I went into the bathroom, it was very dificult to pee as my cock was pointing to the up, it was such a hard on that the normal lifting my leg dog fashoin, my knob...

My Hot Virgin Girlfriend

Mera nam om raj h.Dosto m apni reah kahani aap ke sath share karana chahata hu.Meri girlfriend ka kulwant rai ye real name nahi h. Meri gf bahut hi hot or mast figure ki malkin use dekh kar achche se achche ka penis khada ho jaye . Real me yar bo bahut gajab figure ki malkin h. M use bahut pyar karata hu. Ye 2009 ki bat jab wah hostal me rahati thi waha apne collge se mba kahi thi. Bo ek sikh h or aapako to pata hi h ki sikh kudiya to pataka hoti h ji. M apni girlfriend ko chodane ke ware me...

Becoming Lisas Puppet

Becoming Lisa's PuppetChapter 1I'm not sure what exactly made me tell Lisa about my secret and take her up on that stupid dare. It may have been the booze – I've tried to tell myself that numerous times – but if I'm rational, a few glasses of wine shouldn't have made me so careless. It may have been all that talk about sex that got me really hot – but then, it was just talk. I shouldn't have been so easily manipulated. Yes, Lisa was cunning, but I had known her long enough that I should have...

Slut is BackI

Hello all of you. I am Bhavna. I guess all of you have read of my slutty experiences and even that I am married. Last time when I wrote I said that I am a loyal wife and will never cheat to my husband but it will be not wrong if I say I am a filthy slut who loves to be screwed by strangers. I was happily living with my husband. He is not very good at sex but quite satisfying. I had no more intentions of doing any more slutty acts like I did in my past. We are living in an apartment in a...

Brothers Forever 1

My big brother has always been my hero. When we were younger he always took up for me; because I was so much smaller than the other boys I was often picked on but Jeff would never let them get away with it. He was also my younger sister’s hero, he always made sure no one picked on her either. When this story begins Jeff was 13, I (Jack) was 11 and Shelia was 10. Our father had a good job with IBM and my mother, once a teacher, was something of a June Cleaver. We lived pretty well and...

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