Dad's Girlfriend & Her Friend

Nubile Female Rural Visits

By EgmontGrigor2020

Chapter 1

Remote-living bachelor, Keegan Cameron, was on the front porch bathed in rising sunlight from the east, after hand-washing shirts, underpants, socks and handkerchiefs and hanging them to dry on the clothes line under the ceiling of part of the porch.

The fiction writer eyed the small blue car heading slowly along the rough farm track to the former shepherd's cottage, aimed his fork at the Toyota and muttered, "Fuck off."

Keegan was living in isolation to write in peace, not to be pestered by life insurance salesmen, pollsters or lost tourists having made the wrong turn off the highway to northern beach resorts.

The car stopped six lengths, perhaps seven, from the front steps.

Keegan's interest jumped.

The driver had long black hair and dark glasses AND twin smears of bright red lipstick.

"Wow! A fucking woman."

Dumbfounded, he sat motionless.

The driver unwound herself from the car, obviously signalling that she was tall, oh, and slim as well. Good combo.

She leaned over the top of the open door, an absolute no-no as male drivers would know, and in pure dulcets, called, "That's a most unfriendly welcome."

"Want coffee?"

"Yes please, black and no sugar and your emerging hospitality is appreciated."

He was already standing and turning to go inside when she added to that sentence, "Keegan."

Keegan continued inside, thinking she was unknown to him. She must be a cop or a debt collector. He was an unintentional debtor because he rarely went into town to clear his mailbox, wasn't connected to the Internet but possessed a mobile phone.

Although having no desire to read newspapers, he watched TV news at 6.00 every evening to remain informed about the big stuff among the largely transmitted incredible nonsense.

Keegan returned to the porch with two mugs of coffee to find the cheeky bitch was sprawled out in his chair, the only seating available.

He waited in vain for an apology. Instead she moved almost luscious lips to say, "Well, will be handing me my coffee?"

Now, he thought rude bitch. Whoops, his mother had always urged him never to even think of the word bitch.

"Sorry."

"What for?"

He sipped from one mug and then the other, as she watched.

Keegan then said, "Which mug do you want," expecting her to recoil in horror.

"Whatever."

She took the offered mug from his left hand and sipped from it, showing no sign of distaste or revulsion or any alternative that she was capable of expressing after having seen him sip from that mug.

Then she practically floored him, saying quietly, "You father describes you as an educated hard bastard, ruined by Army service abroad. The term 'hard bastard' appears to have some merit, 'educated' could be debatable and I think 'Army service in a war zone' would be capable of removing some of the shine from any serviceman or servicewoman."

"You may leave now," he said politely.

She openly laughed, displaying magnificent white enamel.

"God, you are in control of yourself," she mused. "I had expected a ranting."

"So, you are not leaving?"

"No, not for a while, and pardon me if I further trample across your sensitivities."

Keegan decided she was a plucky b..., um, plucky woman.

"How is it a person like you knows my dad?"

"He was one of my senior lecturers in law during my studies for a Bachelor of Nursing. We reconnected two years ago when hospitalized for injuries in the vehicle accident that almost took the life of your mother, leaving her a semi-cripple. He currently is in hospital recovering from a lower back operation as the post-accident operation was only partially successful."

"So that's the connection?"

"Partly. Going further, I have been living with him for the past eighteen months doing his washing, helping him with housekeeping and cooking and fulfilling our sexual needs mutually."

Keegan frowned and said she hadn't needed to add that last bit and she said it was her intent to provide the full picture.

"Weren't you aware that your father continues an interest in having sex?"

"It hadn't occurred to me to think about it."

"I see."

"You see what?"

"As I said, I see upon hearing your confession."

Keegan bristled, "That's clearly a distortion on what I said. I had been under no necessity to contemplate whether my father had retained an interest in having sex."

"Well he does, and he's very good at it."

"Thank you."

"How polite of you. In case you are interested, my name is Ella Mannering."

"Hi, Ella. I'm Keegan Cameron, but you are aware of that. By any chance, are you related to the renowned landscape painter, Steven Mannering?"

"He's my uncle, my father's older brother. How is it you know of Steven?"

"His portrait of my mother when she was twenty-seven hangs in my bedroom here."

"But that cannot be. Steven has only painted five portraits and... omigod, what is the name of the portrait of your mother?"

"It's titled, 'Woman in a Wheat Field'."

"Omigod, the missing portrait. Steven retained the portrait of his mother, two of the others are in private collections and the fourth is in the National Art Gallery. That painting of your mother is valued at many thousands of dollars and the value would probably double, perhaps even treble if it suddenly appears and is authenticated."

"Please, Ella. Say not a word to anyone about this. It's the only thing I took when dad told me to take anything of mum's left behind that I wanted after she was discharged from hospital went permanently to a small private care facility. I grew up every day looking at that painting in our lounge and when I was eighteen or nineteen, mum told me she had an affair with Steven Mannering two years after her marriage and soon after that my gran commissioned him to paint her daughter at 'the peak of her beauty'.

"Omigod, how romantic."

"Really? I thought mum had been a slut but forgave her as she'd continue on to be regarded as the top female lawyer and indeed one of the top three lawyers in our city."

Keegan asked softly, "Do you wish to see the painting?"

"Yes please, and I pledge my lips will be sealed. Your father has never mentioned the painting to me and I'll make no mention about it, even to him. Are you aware he's now an Associate-Professor?"

"Yes."

"Actually, that was a test to see if you would lie and say no. Two days ago, when I began a week's break - I lecture on nursing studies - I was cleaning the house and removing junk when I came across your letter congratulating your father on his promotional honour. I was feeling bored and decided to visit you as your address was included, I suppose for return mail."

"Yes, he replied in a chatty manner but made no mention of you."

"Well, I'm only a girlfriend and there have been others."

"Hmmm, the webs we cast around ourselves."

Ella giggled and asked was Keegan a writer!

Taking the outstretched hand, she was pulled from the chair with obvious ease.

"Omigod, you are so strong."

"I work four hours for about three days each week in this district on casual farm work, in return for a mix of money and produce. That includes eggs, meat, vegetables and even unpasteurised milk and cream that I do treat, oh, and honey. The work often involves heavy lifting of bags of grain, bales of hay or straw and wrestling with reluctant adult cattle to get them on to weighing platforms. I am known in the area as a hermit. I also have an open-air gym behind the cottage and it's in regular use."

"Do you invite women here?"

"No, they would be a distraction. This is a young widow not far from here who has been particularly friendly with me."

He led Ella through the kitchen/living from and she commented, "This area is surprisingly tidy"

On entering the bedroom, she said approvingly, "Ooh, bed already made and windows open for airing."

"Omigod," she said, looking at the painting hanging on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

"I've seen many photos including snapshots of you mother and some capture the expression she displays in this painting. It radiates character as well as beauty. You probably don't really notice the portrait now."

Keegan sighed and said, "That could be expected, but actually I talk to her every night before turning out the light above the bed."

"How nice."

"Yeah, I know. I see her and her disfigured face occasionally. In the painting, she's artistically captured so magnificently, at the peak of early adulthood, and yet she was my mother."

"Oh, Keegan, that is so quintessentially you; I've read six or seven of your novels."

Appearing startled, he said, "Would you like breakfast? You must have started out so early."

"I did stop for coffee and toast on the way up here."

"In that case, two omelettes are coming up."

Seated at the small dining table, Ella, eating delicately said, "You can really cook."

"In the wider sense, why do anything half-baked?"

She chuckled, and was aware he was watching her intently.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might merit more than that."

"Further words were unnecessary. You would have heard descriptions of your hair, your face, your neck and your breasts many times."

"Can't say ever hearing my breasts described."

"Then flip them out and I'll be the first, attempting to describe them accurately and lucidly."

"Wow," Ella giggled, making no effort to expose flesh.

"You may go now; you'll be shocked."

"Shocked at what? It was a request aimed at enlightenment. Actually, I believe you have become quite charming and that makes me think you'd make a great pet."

He stared at her breasts and she looked uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Ella, I'm feeling horny. Was that your intention?"

She squirmed in her chair and said, rather slowly, "I prefer not to answer that."

"That's fine. Anyway, that cop-out comment is an answer in itself."

"You can't make that contention," she fired back.

He grinned and said too late, she'd already received his allegedly contentious comment.

She scowled.

He laughed.

Ella's expression softened and she laughed, briefly.

"Smart-ass cur."

He shot back carelessly and aggressively, with attempted humour: "You rude, bored and prospecting nympho."

Her passionate reaction startled her host.

"I'm going," she shouted. "May I use the bathroom first?"

She looked at him and caught the nod.

While she was peeing, Keegan went to the porch railing, grabbed her handbag and hid it in a kitchen cupboard, returning to his chair and sitting nonchalantly.

She came out and said stiffly, "For most of the time I enjoyed being in your company."

"Um, yes. Sorry, I went over the top in calling you rude and dubbing you a prospecting nympho was unforgivable. But actually, it was just me at my fictional creative literary best, but it would be difficult for you to understand that. Also, in weak defence I'm well-short of practise in delicate verbal social intercourse.

"I hear you. Bye."

She left the room and seconds later yelled, "Where the fuck is my shoulder bag?"

He worked at scrubbing away his delighted grin, choosing to replace it with a relaxed expression of nonchalant serenity.

But his dad's riled girlfriend shot back into the room with both barrels firing, ignoring his appearance.

"You unbelievable pig," she practically spat. You've stolen my bag containing my car keys."

He smiled and said creatively, "Search me, but better still search the entire cottage if you believe you haven't misplaced or haven't considered that an urban bag-snatcher took the chance to come way out here in the countryside to focus on the prize of your handbag."

"What bloody sheer nonsense is that," she yelled, a killer scowl masking her pretty face, as she halted within face-slapping distance from him. Meanwhile, Keegan's prime thinking was he must record this worthy scene being acted out in his writer's notebook (actually, these days being the Evernote App on his cell phone) for inclusion in a future novel.

"Then search me or better still search this room or the roof of the cottage for the runaway bag."

Ella calmed. He couldn't believe she was over her seizure of passion so quickly.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "You can be quite a provocative chap. I suppose also having retained the ability to act like a naughty child has merit in being placed in your arsenal as a creative writer of petty fiction."

He eyed her, nodding, thinking she was she exhibiting that she was more than just a pretty face with cute boobies, err breasts. (Dear Evernote...).

"May I have an opportunity to speak?"

She nodded, he thought nonchalantly. Hmm.

"What time had you initially thought of leaving for home?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, she said about 4.00.

On the verge of revealing something, he was thrown briefly by her snapping, "And the possibility of having sex with you have never entered my head."

He attempted to look disappointed.

"Well, get on with it. Use your graciously given opportunity to speak."

He cleared his throat and said, "Your shoulder bag will miraculously appear on the table here at 3.55 today."

She scowled.

"Meaning I'm a hostage until then?"

"No, if necessary, take my car from the shed at the rear if this cottage. The keys are in the ignition."

"Omigod, you really do have the capacity to talk rubbish. Why would I leave car, even temporarily here, in exchange for your old heap?"

"Err, my car is a Lexus sports, about 10 months old."

"Omigod, I'm tempted."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I am tempted, absolutely."

He smiled indulgently in silence.

"Why the smirk?"

"I smiled in delight because you have indicated by your 'tempted' comments, that you do not consider you are being held hostage, meaning you would look foolish if you made such an allegation to the police. I would also demolish any such claim by saying you had been offered by near-new car, much more expensive that yours, as your get-away vehicle."

"You conniving..." she said.

"Bastard?"

"I was about to say slimy prick," she giggled.

"But avoided that, by thinking that had sexual connotations?"

Ella nodded, cheeks flushing.

"Let's kiss to make up."

She nodded, allowing their lips to barely touch and then saying she'd make coffee.

They sipped perfectly-made coffee and the prick asked, "How about going on the adventure of your life?"

"I told you, I'm not thinking of having sex with you."

Keegan shrugged and asked, "Yes or no?"

"Yes," she said, fearlessly.

"Right, after this we start at the haybarn where I park my car. You look dressed adequately enough."

Ella said menacingly, "I've indicated twice to you, no sex."

"Why are you thinking of sex again. Is having sex a pre-occupation of yours?"

She frowned "You appear determined to take me to a haybarn."

He smiled as if looking at a rebellious young girl.

"Accompany without fear and you'll be fine, I promise."

Ella immediately fell in love with the stylish red car and reluctantly followed his gaze to the far-end wall at ropes that were hanging ahigh, through what appeared to be a partial loft.

A loft, she enquired and Keegan said yes it was used seasonally to store sacks of supplementary stock feed during droughts and during winter.

"The ropes have body harnesses; therefore, I assume I'm not to be hanged for insubordination."

"Clever comment."

Omigod, she quivered, assuming that they were soon to climb that sheer wall on ropes. Furthermore, she could see that the climbing area went through a gap in the floor of the partial loft. That would make the possible climb of perhaps 9 ft (2.75 m). Her parents and his father would be horrified that she was being forced to undergo such an ordeal.

Forced? Well, perhaps offered the challenge.

Ha, she thought. The height of that climb was piddly

She and Keegan stood at the base, looking through the gap of the loft floor.

"Do you have a fear of heights?"

"Nah," she said casually.

"Good, because your adventure will involve abseiling (rappelling) from a height about seven times higher than this practise facility that I also use for checking out my ropes and other gear After some intense tuition, I'll take you across two paddocks to abseil the cliff top to the beach 52 feet (almost 16 m) below.

"Christ!"

"Oh, where's the bravado gone?"

She merely glared at him, hissing under her breath, wishing he'd ease off a bit. Why can't he be soft as his father was?"

Omigod, she thought, Keegan didn't have a woman on hand and that would explain his aggressive manner. Hmm, perhaps she should she offer to find him a currently unemployed young woman to do the laundry, cook and sleep with him in return for free accommodation and 'all found' including meals and snacks.

"You've become awfully quiet for you," he said rudely

She let that one go and stood passively, allowing him to place the smaller harness on her and adjust the buckles until it fitted her well.

She'd thought scornfully that he'd used this opportunity to blatantly brush over her nipples two or three times.

But no, not even once. She found herself feeling, well, almost disappointed.

He said, "Abseiling means descending but it also is often twinned with climbing as an activity, for work or recreationally."

"Have you got that?"

"I think so. There's the need for dedication to caution at all times, suppressing natural desire within some of us to push boundaries."

"Exactly," he said, eyeing her as if he were discussing abseiling with a promising 'natural' newcomer. She thought she wouldn't mind if he did brush over her nipples.

Stop it, she thought, pressing her fingernails of her right hand into her palm to make that point. She didn't want him thinking she was a slut.God, he'd have a fit if she knew her father didn't object to her continuing her bi-sexual relationship with her best friend Tess and he would or practically would vomit if he learned that she and his father were joined in bed overnight by Tess roughly once every month.

Time to assure him that she was practically virginal, liked him, and would trust him into thrusting her into abseiling.

"I feel confident in you introducing me into this potentially dangerous activity of abseiling, she said, attempting to use the tone of an imaginary young female Sunday School teacher. "You appear so fit and confident, in fact very manly, the epitome of a sport instructor."

Keegan looked a little stunned.

"I've risen beyond being a novice into the sport, with no qualifications to be deemed an instructor, but I keep safety foremost in mind when taking the rope in my hand while also thinking of the safety of others I'm with. I urge you, if you don't feel safe, then don't do it."

"You mean regard it as you would approaching sex with a new partner?"

Oops!

Keegan ignored that, much to Ella's relief and said modestly in regard to fitness, he lifted weights, ran most mornings from around dawn and swam most days apart from winter months.

Wearing their harness, safety helmets and gloves, they climbed the ladder to the loft, he waving her forward to go first. They looked down from the loft, Ella confirming that it was a piddly descent. There was doubled rope hanging from a rafter that Keegan wrapped around her body and attached the rope to her harness with a D-shaped something he called a carabiner clip. He then explained and attached descender friction device and how to apply pressure on to it or release pressure to control her rate of descent.

Piece of cake, Ella thought after she followed his instructions to demonstrate that she had absorbed the knowledge on now to control her rate of descent.

Keegan warned her that anyone new to abseiling could panic and go blank on things they knew about abseiling.