Aurora - Way of the Goddess Pt. 05

"Well, come on, Missy. Time to get ready for school."

Tanya ceased her attack and sat up. "Come on, Maggie," she said, offering her hand, "time to give that little pussy a rest and exercise the old brain cells."

Maya briefly considered arguing the point. It just wasn't fair that Beck could stay home while she couldn't, notwithstanding the fifty-k a year her parents had to pay for her school, or the opportunities that would arise out of successful completion. Medical school was Maya's first preference, followed by vet science or MBA. Law was at the very bottom of her list but still her most likely destination- with so many lawyers in the family it would be a picnic. But Caddy was adamant; Maya would possess something both she and her sister lacked; a work ethic.

A light came on in Maya's eyes. "Ten minutes!" she told her mother. "A ten-minute swim just to freshen up. Beck?"

The word 'swim' made a special connection in Beck's brain. "Know what? That would be awesome."

Moments later, they heard the sound of a huge double splash outside and Caddy pushed wearily up off the bed. "Well, I might as well go and make some brekky, give you two young things some privacy."

Tanya lay down beside Watson. "What do you say, Soldier? You got a little left for your old Aunty Tan?"

"Always!" Watson replied, rolling onto his back and taking her with him.

"We'll be down in a couple of minutes." Tanya told Caddy's back as her sister left the room, heading downstairs to the kitchen. On second thoughts, she half rolled and yelled out the door. "And don't overdo my eggs-" she said, then planted a hot wet kiss on Watson's mouth, "that's Damon's job!"

* * *

Tanya, in typical style, had the whole day organised. The first port of call was a sprawling shopping mall, and a photographer, for passport photos. Watson couldn't take his eyes off them once they were done, the portrait of a beautiful young woman, slightly self-conscious, peering out of the image through deeply knowing eyes. And it hit him like a thunderbolt. Captured in this photo of strictly official dimensions, was an instant of Beck's life, frozen in time. An instant that would exist only once, never to be repeated, ever again. Between the 'then' of the photo and each fleeting 'now', that moment was receding into the past at the speed of time- one second per second, per second. Beck would grow older, she'd grow away. He would grow old and he would die. One way or another, sooner or later, somewhere, somehow, they would part, never to see or hold each other again. Almost overcome, Watson felt a sudden urge to seize her, to gather her into his arms and never let go, to halt their relentless, dizzying, headlong plunge into the unknown. He took her hand instead and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her answering smile of love like a knife to the heart.

Hostess with the mostest, Tanya seemed determined to punish her broken leg, hobbling everywhere as fast as she could go, a woman on a mission. Once the photos were done, she led them to the nearest Post Office to gather the requisite paperwork. Sitting at a café table loaded with coffees and cakes, she and Watson filled in the passport application with the recently acquired fabrications. It was thrilling, exciting, the sense of crossing a heavily guarder border, breaking into the mainstream on cleverly forged documents, like secret agents or escaping prisoners of war.

While they quarrelled and snickered over the details, Tanya got onto the phone and shortly after the deed was done, a breathless young woman in a smart business suit trotted up to the table. "Tan!" she puffed, looking rattled, auburn hair spilling out of its bun. "Sorry I took so long! Where are those docs?"

Tanya tilted her head. "How about a kiss, girl? Hmm? A kiss? Before you go stampeding for the paperwork?"

The young woman dutifully pecked Tanya on each cheek. "You know that cast really suits you."

"Do you think so?" Dressed in rolled-up black shorts and a purple bustier, Tanya extended her legs, one pink fibreglass, the other lean and healthy. "I've been thinking of getting the other one done."

The young woman screwed her face up in thought. "Mmm... nahh... the asymmetry makes it."

"I'll take your word for it." Tanya replied. Reaching out, she took the young woman by the hand. "Guys. This is Vicky MacDonald, Roger's PA. Sort of a cross between Wonder Woman and Mother Teresa. Macca, this is my mate Damon, and this is Rebekah. That's Rebekah with a 'k' and an 'a' and an 'h'."

Watson blanched. Mother Teresa? He hoped not. There was a sordid truth behind that Albanian dwarf's beatific façade, hard to reconcile with the beautiful young woman standing in front of him. Pushing halfway to his feet he extended his hand. "Damon Watson," he smiled, "pleased to meet you."

The young woman eyed him appraisingly. Fifty-ish. Good teeth, kind eyes, slightly weather-beaten complexion with an abundance of laugh lines. "How do you do. Are you in the law?"

Watson looked at her, mortified while Tanya laughed. "Does he look like a lawyer to you?"

No, he didn't. "Well... I... ah..."

"Damon's a writer." Tanya explained. "And a swashbuckling adventurer to boot, who once saved me and Roger from pirates." She looked around, checking the coast was clear, then cupped a hand to her mouth. "And Beck," she said in a low voice, "is a mermaid!"

The young woman's sensual lips parted in a thousand-watt smile, and Watson caught a glimpse of her perfect white teeth before she hastily covered her mouth. A little like Julia Roberts, he thought, only with the normal human complement of teeth. Try as he did, he could not dispel the image of those pillowy lips closing over his cock. Averting his eyes to the two pert bumps under her smart, grey, pinstriped jacket only made things worse. He sat back, surreptitiously studying the young woman, grappling with the realisation he may have turned into an irreparably sex-obsessed deviate.

"You're off your medication again, aren't you Tan?" Vicky smiled.

"No." Tanya shook her head, "It's for reals. What's the name of your boat, Beck?"

"Aurora." Beck replied. "It means Goddess of the Dawn."

Vicky looked at her, open mouthed, either genuinely impressed or just playing along. "No way!"

"Yes way!" Tanya insisted. "Becky? Tell Macca. How long can you stay under water?"

"Oh..." Beck replied, frowning into space, "I don't know. Damon?"

"I..." Watson tried to speak but his voice broke and he quickly cleared his throat. "I'm not quite sure. Four minutes? Five? I'm always too busy holding her under."

"Oh, don't listen to him." Tanya rolled her eyes, "If you could see her swim you'd swear she had gills."

"Do you ever do that free-diving thing?" Vicky asked, "You know, where you go real deep?"

Beck looked at Watson... that was his job. "Sure." she replied. "When we're off the shelf sometimes. If it's calm we sling a lead-line overboard and I go down on that."

"How deep?"

"Twenty meters? Thirty?"

"Now that," Vicky declared, "is something I'd like to see."

"You should come on our boat one day." Beck said innocently.

Watson shook his with an inward groan at this battle of double entendres. He glanced at Tanya to find her eyes fixed on him, a big, knowing smile on her beautiful face.

Vicky gasped. "Could I?"

"You'd have to swab the decks!" Tanya warned.

"Small price to pay."

"In your bikini!"

The young woman's mouth was so big it needed two laugh-lines a side accommodate her wall-to-wall smile, but every time her lips parted she self-consciously covered her mouth. "I reckon I could handle that."

"There you go, Damo." Tanya said brightly, "looks like you've got yourself a cabin girl."

"Finally!" Watson swabbed his forehead as the young woman blushed, not quite knowing which way to look, "Some decent help at last."

Tanya gestured at a chair. "Time for a coffee, Macca?"

"Sorry, Boss," she shook her head, "Bryce is cutting laps."

"Bryce is our driver." Tanya explained.

"I've got some documents to lodge in the Supreme Court. Then I've got a settlement conference. Time is money, money is time blah blah blah. Anyway, Tan. What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to dump this on you, Sweets. We need a passport, stat! If you could get it over to our fixer as quick as you can."

When Vicky leant over the table to look at the documents, Watson caught a glimpse of a mandarin-coloured bra down the front of her button-up white shirt. "When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow, if possible. If not the day after."

Vicky sucked air through her teeth. "Now that's gonna take some doing."

"Why do you think I called on you? If anyone can, Macca can."

Vicky flipped the envelope open and quickly scanned the photos. "Gosh!" she said and looked at Beck, "Don't you look gorgeous?"

Beck was sitting back, quietly nibbling on a croissant. In her light-yellow sundress, with her hair tied up in a high ponytail, she was the very epitome of youthful innocence. A delicious irony, for she'd just been fucked by her old man in the shower and was toying with the sensation of his cum leaking out of her. There was a great big wet spot in her panties and her butt-cheeks were all slippery and squishy. When Vicky spoke to her she came-to with a start and it was her time to blush.

Tanya reached over and ticked Beck under the chin. "They don't come any gorgeous-er. What do you say, Macca? Can do?"

"I'll do my very best." Vicky replied and pulled out the passport application. She studied it, frowning, her eyes darting over reams of text, then looked up at Beck. "You still need to sign it, Becky." she said and tapped the page, "Here."

Watson patted his pockets for a pen and one materialised in front of Beck's nose.

"See what I mean?" Tanya said, "She's incredible."

"What should I write?" Beck asked, unsure of what was expected.

"Just your usual signature, Darling." Tanya replied.

All eyes were on Beck as she meticulously scrawled her name in halting cursive for the very first time. Rebekah Watson. When it was done, Watson picked it up in a shaking hand and studied her handiwork. He looked at the PA. "How's that, Vicky?"

"Done all done." Vicky nodded, taking back her pen. "And please, just call me Macca."

"Quick as you can, Macca," Tanya chivvied, "there's a good girl."

Straightening, Vicky smoothed the skirt over her hips, then tossed the strap of her pink leather handbag over a shoulder. "No worries, Boss, I'll keep you posted." Extending her hand, she shook Watson's then turned and offered it to Beck. "I sure am looking forward to that boat ride."

"It'll be great!" Beck smiled, matching her grip for grip. "We can go and catch crayfish together. And play with the sea snakes."

"Err... riiight." Vicky shot a glance at Tanya out of the corner of her eye.

"Yep." Tanya nodded. "She's for real."

"It's a date!" Vicky nodded. Pecking Tanya once on each cheek, she turned and hurried away with the rapid, heel-striking stride of the eternally harried. Watson watched her go, admiring the flex of her calves and her slim, athletic ankles. Inevitably, his eyes were drawn to the outline of her briefs, biting into her firm, round bum.

Tanya gave him a nudge. "Bet I know what you're thinking."

The old man arched his eyebrows. "Bet you don't."

"Well the answer is 'no'. She doesn't swing that way."

"Damn!" Watson palmed his forehead. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes Darling, you are."

"Have you tried?"

"No," Tanya replied wistfully, "but if she so much as crooked a finger, I'd be up her like a rat up a rhododendron."

"Never know," Watson mused, "she might just be up for it."

"No." Tanya shook her head, "She's not."

"How do you know?"

Tanya cupped a hand to her mouth and in a dramatic whisper announced, "She's got religion."

Watson blanched. "Bullshit!"

" 'Fraid so."

"With a body like that?"

"Criminal, isn't it? It's one of the reasons Roger's hung onto her."

"For her body?"

"No, silly, because she's a god-botherer. Because she's so afraid of going to hell for some misdemeanour. It means she's totally honest, utterly reliable, and morally incorruptible. Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't go out to parties-"

Watson shook his head mournfully. "Oh that poor girl."

"And talk about work ethic! She's just unstoppable! Too bad she's condemned to be married, she'll be impossible to replace if she actually goes through with it."

"Condemned?"

"Did I say condemned?" Tanya snorted. "I meant engaged, of course. Silly me."

"So why replace her?"

"She'll turn into a baby factory." Tanya said dourly. "Haven't you read the brief? Go forth and multiply?"

"She's sweet." Beck piped up. "Can she really come and visit the boat?"

"Didn't you hear what Tan just said?"

"Uh huh. She's religious. What does that mean?"

Watson gave a grunt of dour laughter. "It means she's not allowed to enjoy her life."

"Why not?"

"Good question." Tanya said then gathered herself up. "You see, Becks, once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, some dirty old men started a club. It was the Middle East, actually, where else? I mean, what is it about that place? Anyway, when these dirty old malcontents started their club it was only for men, cos' the men all thought women were yukky, since they bled once a month and were covered in girl germs. But they were obsessed with sex, these dirty old bastards, so obsessed they made it a sin, just so they could pretend they weren't a bunch of hopelessly sex-addicted devoes."

Tanya paused to wet her whistle. "Now, these filthy old malcontents had a problem, didn't they? Because as much as they hated chicks, for being stronger and smarter and much better looking, they could fuck little boys till the cows came home but they couldn't make babies."

"Or camels." Watson cut in.

"Right. Or camels. But there was only one way they could make babies-"

"Or goats."

"Yes yes... but there was only one way-"

"Or donkeys."

"No need to labour the point, Reg. Fact is, much as they hated them, once in a while these dirty old boy, camel, goat and donkey fuckers had to fuck chicks, so they made up all these rules about fucking. Rule one; don't. It's dirty. It's a sin. Rule two; if you really must, the club had to give you permission, in the form of a life sentence called marriage. Rule three; if a chick fucked someone she wasn't married to, they could throw her into a lake of fire where she'd suffer in agony for ever and ever-"

"Only the woman?" Watson frowned.

"Correct! You see there was a clause that said the man could blame the woman, because women are a friend of this big red guy who lives in the lake of fire. And because they're friends with this big red guy, they made men in the club do bad things. So all they have to do is tell the club's officials how really really sorry they are, for being tricked into having a really good time, and pay some money. And hey presto, forgiven."

Watson leant into Beck. "You getting all this?"

"Can she come on the boat?"

"Well I did!" Tanya shrugged.

"Once." Watson observed.

"Quality, not quantity Damon."

"Anyway, why not?" Watson shrugged. "Just for a sail. I mean, we don't have to fuck everyone who comes aboard, do we?"

"But you'd like to, huh?" Tanya smiled cheekily. "And who knows, maybe you will. Maybe you can convert her. Let's face it, if anyone can."

"She's got religion." Watson sighed. "There's probably not a lot I can do for her."

"You mean more than you've done so already?"

Watson sat back, frowning. "Pardon?"

"I said more than you and Beck have helped her already."

"Helped her? How?"

"Well, remember Roger?"

Watson held his hand out, about waist high. "The dwarf, right? The Eskimo? With the club-foot and the lazy eye?"

"I mean the old Roger. The one you met on day one."

"How could I forget?"

"Right. Well, Macca was Roger's PA."

Watson looked at Tanya, nonplussed. "I thought she still was."

"I mean just his PA, as in just another piece of office equipment. Then one day just after we got back, Roger had to call her into the office to run an errand. It was saturday, and she turned up all breathless and sweaty straight from the footy field-"

"She plays football?"

"Footy, running, cycling, swimming, she's a little human dynamo. Anyway. For the first time Roger realised she was actually human. So he jokingly asked how much he was paying her to rush into his chambers on her day off to pick and deliver some documents. He had no idea. Other people were paid to take care of that. And when she told him he was shocked, shocked and ashamed, because they were... he was... paying the poor girl a pittance. But she was holding onto the job for dear life because a job like that, any job, was so hard to find."

"Did he give her a little more money?" Beck asked, ready to disinherit Bragg in a heartbeat if the answer was no.

"No." Tanya shook her head. "He gave her a lot more! He doubled her pay, in fact. Then we paid out her mortgage as a birthday surprise. My idea, by the way."

Watson leant into Tanya and planted a kiss on her lips. "Which is one of the many, many reasons I love you."

Tanya sat back, basking in the glow of the old man's adoration. "Really?" she beamed. "So what are the others?"

"Too numerous to mention. But did you tell her? How Rodge had come to suffer this sudden change of heart?"

Tanya leant into him. "By having rampant sex with this little goddess?" she gave Beck a wink. "No, I didn't. By by god I'd love to see the look on her face if I did."

* * *

Tanya gave Beck a choice. Museum or shopping. Beck had never heard of a museum and when Tanya explained what it was, Beck almost dragged her bodily from the mall.

Watson, meanwhile, set sail in Tanya's Porsche, heading north by GPS through endless sets of traffic lights, bumper to bumper with angry motorists, ninety percent the vehicle's sole occupant, and dicing with huge, soot-belching trucks laden with everything from tomorrow's groceries to yesterday's waste. Finally, mercifully, he turned off the highway and wove his way through leafy suburban backstreets, an oasis of peace and tranquillity poles apart from the snarl of the main arterial.

Kevin the IT Guru worked out of a sprawling sandstone bungalow, set well back from the road behind a well-tended garden. When the front door opened, Watson found himself face-to-face with an archetypal geek, a dapper, diminutive man with a dyed-black bowl-haircut and thick, heavy rimmed glasses. "So. You must be Damon." he hailed with a broad smile.

"That I am. And I'm guessing you're Kev."

The wrought-iron screen door creaked open, it's chipped black frame thick with countless layers of repaint. "Come on in." Kevin said and they shook. "I hear you're having problems with your phone."

Watson slipped the iPhone from his pocket. He'd recharged the battery but the device was still impenetrably locked, its dubious treasures beyond reach. "I reset the lock code," he explained, trailing the man through a comfortable living room into the kitchen.

"And now you can't remember it?"

"Never reset your password after you've had a few beers!"

"It's a funny thing, isn't it?" the forensic IT expert smiled wryly, "That's when most people feel compelled to do it. If I had a dollar for every phone I've had to unlock, after an ethanol-induced code change, well, you know what? I'd have exactly fifty two bucks."

Following on through the kitchen, Watson waited restively while his host punched a numbered code into the lock of a heavy wooden door. He stood aside and Watson looked down a long flight of concrete stairs into an abyss. "Welcome to the bunker." Kevin said and Watson briefly wondered what the hell he was doing, all alone walking straight into some strange man's dungeon.