Hattie & Vic

Chapter 1

For three days Hattie Monk had been waiting for Saturday night to arrive to go on her dream date with Royce Collins. Aged 24 with fair and longish curly hair Hattie was a vivacious and, being in a wealthy family, a little precocious. She was between jobs, a casualty of downsizing in her section of the computer industry, although her mother Kitty insisted Hattie was 'on vacation'.

Her Saturday night date, Lieutenant Royce Collins, had arrived recently from overseas duty. Five generations of the Collins family had served in the military and now Royce had become the sixth, though his billionaire father had ensured his son had been posted to Germany away from any conflict apart from fights in the bars. Royce had phoned the beauty to invited her to a dine and dance and suggested going somewhere afterwards to park -- somewhere comfortable. On the strength of that Hattie had purchased condoms knowing the great place to park. She was determined to make a great pitch to become Mrs Hattie Monk-Collins and going into a motel room would enhance her chances, surely.

Then disaster. Her father called at midday Friday to say he'd been caught in urgent talks and her mother was having her hair done. There was no option but to ask Hattie to go to New York to meet Cousin Victor Shadbolt next morning -- the Queen Elizabeth 2 was due to dock at 8:00 am.

"But father!"

"I know- your date with Ronald's boy. Schedule a re-date darling; family comes first.

"But father!"

"Cedric (the chauffer) is on the way to take you to the airport. A limo at JFK will take you to your hotel where you'll stay three days in a suite. Look darling, I'm sorry to be costing you a date but go out with Cousin Victor instead. You have the credit card I gave you recently -- I've just asked Kevin to charge it with $5000. Spend big on me darling. Goodbye."

Hattie snapped her cell phone shut and let off a string of oaths that would have curled the claws of a Bishop's parrot. She went outside by the pool to sulk for half-an-hour before calling Royce to give him the bad news.

"Oh Hattie -- what a coincidence, I was about to call you to cancel tomorrow night. Gwendolyn James has invited me to escort her to a party restricted to families of military personnel. Hattie, are you there Hattie?"

Hattie's phone now lay on the concrete pool surround in one hundred pieces. She called Kevin Browne at her father's office to claim insurance on her phone and requested Kevin to rush another one to her at the United terminal at the airport.

"Very well Miss Monk," he said in his fruity voice. "I'll get the phone to you even if it means delaying the flight."

Hattie said to her father's chief of staff, "Splendid Kevin -- just call me whenever you want me to put in a good word for you."

Cedric the chauffer had handed her a package that she read on the way to the airport. It contained air tickets and passes, instructions where to go to find the limo and the address of the hotel -- not that anyone needed to be given the address of that hotel; her father was on the board therefore the accommodation would be a premium suite. Just before the last call to board a courier in motor-cycle leathers arrived with her phone. She'd called Kevin out of a meeting just to say, "Great phone thank you Kevin; this call confirms it works." She grinned when she held on after saying goodbye to hear him mutter, "Because it's my fucking back-up phone you chipMonk." She knew Kevin's secret desire was to screw her and then screw her neck, although with him being unsure of his sex he was unlikely to do either.

Information on Cousin Victor from some unpronounceable place called Waimakariri in a place called New Zealand -- wherever that was -- interested her vaguely. He was her third cousin so it would not be a crime to allow him to share her bed if she felt so inclined. Damn her father -- he was such a bully making her do this and refusing to employ her in administration in one of his factories -- instead he insisted she go out and find a job herself and stick at it 'to build character'. Well, at least he'd given her a momentary sweetener for this trip: it would pay for a new dress and shoes and a day trip to Atlantic City to have fun losing a couple of thousand.

At the passenger ocean terminal Hattie found it too crowded and too noisy for her. The liner had docked and people were about to 'disembark' as the guy in a beautifully modulated voice and no accent was announcing over the sound system. She paid two guys to stand at places where they thought was the right place to position with boards she wrote on in felt pen -- 'Cousin Victor Shadbolt from NZ'. She held up fifty bucks and said it would be a bonus to the guy who brought passenger Victor Shadbolt to her in the coffee shop she identified.

"It could be a couple of hours Miss."

"That's fine, I like coffee and will read the newspaper."

Just over an hour later someone coughed just behind her -- an attention-seeking cough. It was one of the signboard 'boys'. "Found him Miss."

She asked the tall guy behind him, "Are you Cousin Shadbolt?"

"Yes, from out of Waimakariri."

"Pardon me?"

"Mid center of the South Island of New Zealand."

"Oh, New Zealand. Here you are young man," Hattie said handing over the fifty.

God the guy was big and she was annoyed at him staring at her like that; don't girls in New Zealand have breasts?

"I'm Hattie Monk," she said, holding out her hand. She almost wet herself when he kissed it so elegantly with great timing.

He introduced himself as Victor Shadbolt but invited her to call him Vic. "I'm astonished."

"What, at the size of my breasts?"

He smiled and his color deepened. "Not exactly. My mother had described you as a snotty-nosed stuck-up little bitch, spoilt to the nth."

"Perhaps it's just as well I don't really understand what that means."

Vic beamed and slapped her on the shoulder, almost knocking her out of her chair. "With humor like that you can't be too bad."

Hattie couldn't understand why this clown from nowhere was assaulting her and accusing her of having a humor when she was livid at his scrawny, drunken and foul-mouthed mother defaming her and unjustly. She'd met the mother three years ago when she visited her parents in Chicago during Hattie's final year at college. The father, although not there, would be civilized because he was American.

In the drive to the city she asked, "Did you sail in that boat from your local port?"

"Ship."

"Pardon me?"

"Boats are little things -- big vessels traversing oceans are called ships."

"Whatever."

"I was flown to England for seven days and then my prize included sailing on the QE2 to New York."

"Prize -- you won a male beauty contest or something?"

"Ah, very droll." Vic beamed. "I know I'm good looking but fall short of being handsome."

"I could debate that but why inflate your ego."

"You have a very lively mind, Hattie; I like you already."

"Well, at least that's something your mom didn't do."

"Mum is okay -- she has a sharp tongue when she'd been on the booze without a few days' break."

"Mum and not mom?"

"Aye, at least in New Zealand."

"What will you do in America?"

Vic said looking for a rich wife and Hattie said well that eliminated her because she wasn't rich.

"You'd be too much of a handful for me," he grinned only to be caught again looking at her breasts.

"You are rude," she giggled. "You wanted me to catch you looking at them."

His stupid grin gave him away.

That byplay softened her and she said, "Keep this up and perhaps I'll like you. How did you win that fabulous prize?"

"I won first prize at a poker tournament at a casino comprising the trip to England, the sailing to New York, spending money and the flight to Christchurch New Zealand from LA -- total value $25,000."

"Wow. So you like gambling?"

"Nah but I've been playing penny poker with dad and two of his buddies since my seventh birthday and still do; they entered me in the tournament."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-nine."

She said she was twenty-four and a year out from college.

"Fuck, you look so young, and beautiful."

Hattie quickly advised that in America it was offensive to use profanity in normal conversation and especially in the hearing of ladies.

"Well on that last point at least I've safe in present company."

"God," she said, "you are as rough as sandpaper."

He asked was saying 'God' in that context a profanity and that produced a deep blush but Hattie warned him to watch his disgusting talk. "You're lucky you are in the company of a liberal-minded person."

"How liberal -- for instance, do you do it on the first date?"

"Do what? Ohmigod, you are unbelievable; that is disgusting."

"True perhaps but it doesn't answer the question."

Hattie smirked, "You'll have to find out the answer yourself."

"Give me your hand." She handed it across nervously.

"Ah, that's good," he said, holding her left-hand.

"What, my life-line is long?"

"No you twit, that is read on the palm. I've observed you are not wearing significant rings."

"You are cruel; it's not my fault that I intimidate most men."

Vic sent her mind in a whirl, "If you must know my reason for checking is I don't seduce engaged or married women -- at least not knowingly."

"So that makes my mother safe?"

Vic's mouth stayed open in shock until he managed, "You're as upfront and dirty as me."

"No I'm not, I'm a lady."

"Yeah, and I'm President George Washington."

She went to cuff him but he moved unbelievably fast and caught her descending hand, pinned her against her chair and kissed her, deeply. As he drew away, releasing her, Hattie lay panting, her eyes dilated, thinking she was on a roller-coaster. She decided not to berate him, knowing it would be a lie. He was more man than any man she'd come up against, even Royce Collins. She opened her bag and refreshed her lipstick.

When she snapped her bag shut he said, "Sorry" and his expression didn't change when she eyed him blankly and said, "Whatever for?"

She was amazed he didn't grin or at the very least look triumphant. She sought to answer her curiosity: "Why must this bride you seek be rich?"

"I'm considering buying part of my parents' sheep ranch for just over US$1.8 million dollars and need to raise money to develop it; hopefully I'll raise half the capital by marrying a woman willing to go into the project as a joint venture."

"What if the wife is not interested in working with sheep?"

"Sheep and cattle actually. She would run the Friday to Monday guest ranch operation that already exists. There are eight luxury cabins, each capable of sleeping up to three couples. It's an adult only operation and we tend to attract mixed couples who share more than just a holiday."

"Wife swapping?"

"Some are either not married or arrive without their spouses. What goes on behind closed doors in not our business; they pay handsomely for luxury facilities, a range of interesting full-on activities and at nights once they leave the dining hall at the ranch house they remain undisturbed."

"Vic, it sounds lovely. I wish you success."

Vic looked at Hattie keenly. "Would you like to invest and operate the hospitality side of the business, borrowing from your father?"

"Sorry Vic -- the idea of holing out in some dump in some obscure country is not my idea of my future."

Vic persisted, "You wouldn't have to marry me -- you could be a 50-50 partner. I have had a DVD made to help sell the proposal."

"I don't think so Vic, I like Chicago too much to go anywhere else."

They arrived at the recently renamed and renovated Blue Atlantis Hotel just off Fifth Avenue to be treated like royalty because their limo was flying the hotel's VIP flag. They were taken straight to their impressive suite. The bellboy looked at Vic's tip in dismay.

"How much did you tip him?" Hattie asked.

"A buck -- that's good enough for anyone who's on a wage."

"On your bike Mister," Vic said to the unsmiling man, pointing to the door.

Vic explained, "In New Zealand we don't believe in tipping; I know I'm abroad so I do make concessions. But even when you tip you get lousy service, even on the QE2."

"How much did you tip on the liner?"

"My usual one buck."

Hattie cracked up and palming money to the departing bellboy whispered, "Warn everyone to be understanding because he's from New Zealand."

As soon as the bellboy left the doorbell went and a receptionist entered to sign them in. She asked Vic for his credit card.

"No-way Mrs Giles," he said.

"Here, take mine," Hattie sighed and gave the startled Mrs Giles a big smile saying, "He's from New Zealand."

"Oh, he's one of those," whispered the receptionist.

As she left, looking at Vic sympathetically, he walked around admiring the suite.

"You are the guest, choose which of the two bedrooms you want," Hattie said sweetly.

"Nah -- ladies first and you choose which side of the bed you want."

Hattie sat down heavily.

He looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure."

"Stay right there -- I'll fetch you a reviver."

He arrived back with two whiskies.

"Vic, about the sleeping arrangements..."

He looked shocked. "What -- you don't want to sleep with me because I'm non-American?"

"No, of course not; I think you are very nice and being my third cousin is not an issue; the issue is I don't know you."

"Well that's not a problem -- it will be at least 9:00 tonight before I throw a leg over and play with your tits. By then we'll know each other like brother and sister."

"I've never done it with either of my two brothers or my sister," Hattie said primly and rolled about laughing when Vic looked at her thunderstruck and said he should think not.

"Look -- sleep together but no sex unless you pressure me."

"Can I trust myself?" Hattie asked vaguely and Vic said only she could answer that.

"Just relax; I've slept with females before who were kin and there was no sex so it's not as if you're going to bed with a compulsive seducer. Do we have a deal?

She rolled her eyes, her heart beating faster, "Yes."

"Good, let's unpack and you change into appropriate clothes to roam about the city. That will give me a good chance to see your tits."

"Pardon me?"

"Stop playing games Hattie."

Hattie sighed; Victor Shadbolt was unstoppable.

* * *

They walked arm-in-arm -- he'd seized her arm and his grip was so strong that she gave up trying to wrestle away. Hattie was surprised because she'd never had so many women glance her way looking coy, bemused or assuming a 'come on' expression. Then she twigged: "God, you are ogling their breasts."

"Just checking -- most are not within a bull's roar of your set; you are really something."

"Have you an incurable disease brought on from dreaming about masturbating over big-breasted women?"

"I don't think so but could you tell me how to become infected?"

She laughed and then silently berated herself for encouraging him to become even bolder.

Actually it was every enjoyable. His naivety was refreshing and his head darted about like a bird landing in an acre of worms.

After an hour she pulled him into a Starbuck's' her shoes were okay but the tightness of her jeans around her crotch was killing her.

"Nah, not Starbuck's," he said pulling her from the doorway. "Let's go on until we find a place offering real coffee."

"What -- you know Starbuck's," she said, wondering if they had a branch in London.

"Yeah," he said looking at a Black American about 7ft tall. "Dad and mum go to one in Christchurch City which is less than ninety minutes' drive from their ranch."

"What, this place Christchurch has a Starbucks?"

"Yeah and other fast-food outfits based overseas. Did you think New Zealand was the first outpost beyond civilization -- you can fly into Christchurch on 747s."

"Really?"

"Yes, and watch locally owned channels and multi-channel satellite TV."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

They arrived back at their suite, tired and happy; Hattie had trouble letting his hand go. She called down and booked dinner.

"I'll off to shave," Vic said.

"Would you rather share a glass of wine and have a cuddle first; we have plenty of time."

Vic raced to the bar to fetch the drink. When he returned Hattie was removing her shirt. He handed her the wine and removed her bra gently.

"Lovely, but the impression was they were rather bigger."

"They ride rather high and I choose to pull them up a little higher.

Hattie gave him the glass and struggled out of her jeans.

Vic asked did she always wear pretty underwear sets like that and the reply was, yes she possessed nothing else. He drained the glass and stood up and kissed her.

Hattie's eyes shot open as the first taste of wine trickled into her mouth. She closed her eyes with a sigh and went knocking with her lips and gained a bigger share of wine but when it the wine was all gone her tongue stayed, getting to know its new friend. After a while she broke away and lay on the bed, feet spread on the floor and pulled the crotch of her panties to one side. Vic dropped like a stone on to his knees.

"Oh yummy, bald except for this small triangle," he said, smacking his lips and making her close her eyes and arch her back while she held on to a beautiful smile as the tongue went exploring.

After a few minutes Vic stood up. Hattie put out her hands to be pulled up and unbuckled him and dug her hand over the top of his briefs and found he was completely bald.

"God, they are civilized in New Zealand." That comment really pleased him.

She hurriedly climbed on to the pillows and giggled with a hint of desperation as Vic slowly straddled her after delaying to kick off his jeans and discard his briefs. She began stuffing her mouth as down the other end his tongue returned to its earlier lodging place. Ten minutes later it was all over rover with two smiling people on the bed holding hands.

"What say we save the main act till we return from dinner? I'll have a quick shower and shave and go to the Summit Bar for a couple of beers and hopefully find some real New Yorkers to chat with."

"Yes, do that -- I'll set my bedside alarm to allow me to nap for half an hour. I'll come looking for you. What was your name?" she giggled.

The heavy clunk of the entrance door closing brought Hattie from her dozing. She picked up her phone as it began ringing.

"Hello darling -- thanks for the call from the passenger terminal to say you had secured Cousin Vic. How does he rate?"

"Top shelf actually daddy. He's tall, strong, rather handsome with fair hair and surprisingly light blue eyes and kisses beautifully."

"So you're at it already."

"Not quite. Now shut up and listen. You know you have often talked about investing in a big game operation in Africa but remained concerned about security and political unrest?"

"Yes, go on."

"Part of Vic's parents' farm is high country wilderness. He wants to buy 2500 acres and fence that land into blocks and stock it with captured wild deer -- trophy head stags. His father is interested in selectively breeding from captured wild hinds with outstanding domesticated stags and releasing them early back into Vic's heavily wooded blocks on what he called the foothills of the Southern Alps. Vic has to find four million American dollars to buy the cheap land and fence it and stock it as well as building five camps."

Hattie could hear her father's breathing becoming heavier. She crossed her fingers.

"Does he now and you're telling me this as you want to represent me in New Zealand as the silent partner."

"Gosh daddy, you are an amazing quick thinker. I also would require backing to lease the weekend accommodation from his parents, allowing them to ease back and play the role of country squire and his wife."