Dee Dee's Dilemma

"Very," said Dee Dee. "Do you employ an animal trainer?"

"No, we teach them young. They learn that in order to get tucker, they have to earn their keep, which includes behaving well. Do what's expected of them and they will be fed reasonably well and get the occasional pat. Be a bad doggie and their usefulness on this station has come to an end, so off we go for a walk, me with my rifle, and only me and my rifle return."

"Oh, poor doggies but at least the ones that go on that no-return walk were given a chance."

"Right, you're quite tough for a woman. Now, help me out here, what are the general specs of this Cessna?"

"The 172P like this one has a Lycoming 160 hp..."

Dee Dee stopped, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I thought so," smile, Duncan. "You know something about flying?"

"A little."

"You have a licence?"

"Yes."

"And you and your husband fly?"

"Err, I do the flying."

"What in?"

"We own a 172 built in 1990."

"We?"

"Err, I do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Dee Dee was struggling to maintain her precarious friendship with this man. He was so uncompromising; it was tough on her.

"I was terrified that you would ask me to take over the controls today. I fly mainly in England, with its well-defined roads, rivers and other features such as towns and high definition navigational points."

"Here we are in mountainous country and I am lacking in experience and knowledge about contour flying in terrain that's broken, correct procedure for saddle crossings and strong knowledge of weather patterns, weather interaction, white-outs and the like."

"Well said, but I would not have put you or myself in danger."

"I know, but I reduced the risk further by keeping my Cessna experience to myself."

"Haven't you forgotten something."

"What? I don't think so."

"That my sister advised you not to tell me you are licensed to fly."

It was impossible to lie; the reddening face was a give-away. She admitted to being a qualified pilot.

"You're an interesting lady, Dee Dee. Come, let's go for chow."

There was no one about and a note on the kitchen table informed them the family had been invited to lunch with Ron's parents in Timaru so had gone, and if Dee Dee and Duncan wanted to rush to join them, he should phone through to advise grandma Stewart.

"What do you want to do?" asked Duncan, rubbing his left eye.

"Have breakfast and then you take me horse riding."

"Sunday's my day off for the week."

"So?"

"I ride horses at least four days a week so you'd be making this into a work day for me."

"What if I said I'd ride in a bikini. Would that make any difference?"

"You'll find bacon and eggs in the fridge, hash browns in the freezer. Two eggs fried and four hash browns for me. I'll go and get the horses. Any preferences?"

"A reasonably quiet but fleet-footed mare."

"Smart choice. Do you happen to know the colour of Lady Godiva's horse?"

"In books it's usually white but the fact is the account of this infamous ride that may or may not have occurred was not recorded in writing until more than 100 years after her death. Now run along and fetch me a horse, definitely not white."

A midday there were eight miles from the homestead, deep in a pine forest and settling in for lunch beside a crystal-clear stream.

"This is beautiful," said Dee Dee, looking up at the tree tops.

"Yes, are your sure you're not cold in that bikini."

"Absolutely, especially since we've come out into this sunny glade. Do you like my bikini?" she asked innocently, cupping her breasts and lifting them slightly.

"Yes, very nice," Duncan said, his voice thickening. He pulled the cork from a bottle of Pinot Noir and said it was made and bottled at a winery less than fifty miles away as the crow flies.

Duncan walked over to Dee Dee carrying the two goblets of red wine. She stared at him, clearly indicating by her slightly pursed lips and pushing out her breasts that she was good to go, if he knew what that meant.

Dee Dee waited, tensing, but nothing happened.

"Cheers," he said and they clicked the silverware and each took a draught.

"Every nice," she said.

"Very nice," came the echo and she watched as he put down his glass and deliberately walked slowly at her then at the last second, just as she was about to open her arms, he sidestepped and went behind her, gently kissed both shoulders and undid the top of the bikini.

"Should you be doing this, I am a married woman," she said, in high excitement.

"As far as I know the jurisdiction of the British Crown do not apply in this forest and nor do I think your marriage is of any relevance to either of us at this time."

"Well, far be it for me to challenge either of those assumptions."

"From the moment I saw you, I wanted to pet your breasts."

"Pet?" asked Dee Dee, seeking confirmation.

"Yes, is so much more couth and saying I want to rub, suck, lick and bite your tits."

"Oh God, please do something, this slow place is killing me, it's some time since I've had sex; I'm not used to being left alone for so long."

"Tell me what you'd like me to do to you."

"I'm torn between the quick solution and the ultimate solution," she sighed. "I think I'll be brave and specify the ultimate solution because it has the more deeply satisfying outcome of the two."

"I understand," replied Duncan smoothly, bending down to remove the bikini pants.

"Just instruct me, and I shall obey."

"First, I want you to allow me to undress you."

Duncan quickly reached for his wine, took a mouthful, and stepped back, holding his arms high.

Dee Dee unbuttoned his shirt, reaching through to glide a hand over the soft downy hair on his chest, before pulling his opened shirt out of his jeans and then removing it from his body. She kissed the chest then moved up and kissed Duncan and, as she opened her mouth to work her tongue into his mouth, some wine exchanged between them.

"Hmm," she murmured.

Dee Dee looked at his rather slim hips and immediately saw a problem; the jeans looked so tight that she may have a problem getting them off. She squatted down to examine his boots, pleased to find they had side zips and with Duncan's cooperation they were discarded with relative ease.

Unbuckling the belt, she was warned to watch out for the snake and nervously asked him to confirm that he meant his penis.

"Yes, there are no snakes in New Zealand, apart from some politicians, all kinds of dealers and philandering husbands and deceitful wives."

"Are you a philandering husband, Duncan?" she asked, unzipping him.

"No, she divorced me almost five years ago and I've not gone steady since them."

"Are you clean?"

"Yes, I believe so. And you?"

"Duncan! That's no question to ask a lady?"

"Are you?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Good, please proceed my beautiful wench."

They made a nice couple. Duncan was well over six feet tall with curly brown hair and lots of it still as he was only a year older than Dee Dee, at thirty-four. Green eyes fitting well into his weather-beaten tanned face and he was muscular with a very erect posture.

A feature of Dee Dees attractiveness was cascading hair of light mixed browns, a long graceful neck and noticeably very long fingers. All of that went well with her slightly voluptuous body although 'slightly' did not apply to her ample bosom. Her oval face with its nicely proportioned nose and wide mouth frequently wore an engaging smile, suggesting a warm personality which was an accurate read.

She dropped to her haunches and pulled strongly at the jeans and with Duncan's assistance soon had him out of them and the underpants followed but rather slowly because Dee Dee became diverted by looking at his almost ready penis and touching it gently.

"Now I want you to direct your penis into my mouth and as I administer it, I would like you to fondle me breasts, but first please fetch our goblets.

"Salud."

"Salud."

After that toast and a hearty sip of the wine, the glasses went back on to the grass where they sat precariously.

A nice fat cock began to worm its way into Dee Dee's mouth (she was still on her haunches) and Duncan reached the prize of his desire - two very firm breasts with very large extended nipples that he'd been eyeing them firming over the last few minutes.

Frowning, Duncan was not overly impressed with her cock-sucking ability and scheduled in his mind some coaching lessons for her. If she could improve him in any way, he'd welcome the tender loving care.

Sliding both palms over the robust nipples he made his cock twitch and knew that he would be discharging within seconds down the throat of an expert mouth and fingers lady, but hey, Dee Dee was doing her best. She'd get there in time. He knew he'd regret seeing his leave return home to her husband (he wasn't aware of the gardener).

Two days later waiting for breakfast, Ron said to Duncan, "The radio signal from the electronic monitoring of the pump over the ground-water bore over on our northern-most boundary where the 3-year old bulls are indicates a major malfunction."

"You are telling me this and want me to rider over to fix the problem, if I can?"

"Well normally it's a 10-hour horse-ride to get there over hills and negotiating potentially dangerous huge exposed shale deposits (sedimentary fractured and weathered rock formed by the deposition of successive layers of clay sedimentary rock from ancient volcanic eruptions that are prone to sliding). But the problem is the bore-fed troughs are the only water those 280-whatever cattle have and there's a sou-wester storm forecast sweeping over the alps from around down tomorrow. We need to get in there and out today."

"We?"

"Okay, I mean you, by aircraft. Take Dee Dee and show her the tough-arse geography of high-country farmland that's only useable from late spring until early autumn before the snows return."

"Nah, it's asking too much for Dee-Dee being bounced around when we land on that rough terrain. It could scare the shit out of her."

"What's this I'm hearing about my shit?" asked Dee Dee, arriving with two plates heaped with scrambled egg, fired sausages, fried potatoes and fried bed that she'd cooked on Kate's instructions, allowing her friend to stay on in bed for an hour or so extra.

Ron said, "Err, Duncan's flying up into the high country to attend to a water-pump crisis. We usually ride up there but a storm will begin to hit us early in the morning and so he'll be flying there within the hour."

"Oh good, I'll get coffee for everyone and then change into warm clothing. I heard Duncan telling you it will be cold as shit up there."

Duncan said, "Err I probably was saying it would be too rough for you landing up there as the plane will get bounced around up there."

"And you probably were saying that would scare the shit out of me. No Duncan, wherever you go I follow and for fuck sake you too, don't tell Kate I cook better scrambled eggs and sausages than she does."

The two me looked at one another and shrugged.

* * *

Duncan and Dee Dee were walking back from the bore pump after replacing the shut-off valve that had failed to open when the water level dropped.

"Are these bulls dangerous," Dee Dee asked, looking a nervously at about 50 of the 250 bulls in what Duncan had said was a 550-acre grazing enclosure amid rougher tussock land were gathered, half-circling them.

"Not really when referring to the black cattle that are 100 percent pure Angus bulls," his said. Waving his toolkit when pointed to a poll Angus-Short-horn cross, he said, "but those half-cross cattle need watching.

"Christ," he cried, looking at the Angus-cross bull he'd pointed to. It had lowered its head and with part of its tail held high was charging them.

"Stand behind me but keep back," he yelled and began waving the tool-kit aggressively.

Duncan attempted to hit the bull heavily on the head as it reached him but it suddenly lowered its head more and pitched its head up and caught Duncan and tossed him into the air with the tool-kit slamming into the bull just up from its head.

He landed in a heap on the ground, groaning.

"Are you okay," Dee Dee asked anxiously.

"Probably two or three cracked ribs," he groaned. "Where's the bull."

"Oh fuck," she exclaimed and in relief said, "He's trotting back to his mates, with his tail still partly up high."

"Help me stand and get me to the airplane. At lease we'll have shelter in the cabin though in the morning the high wind should blow is around and even topple the us."

He groaned, "What a mess. I hope none of the ribs has broken and has pierced my lung."

She acted calmly and buckled him in."'

"What are you going."

"Preparing you for the flight home."

"You can't, you've never taking off on rough ground like this or flown in alpine conditions and coped with dangerous uplifts and sinks."

"Well, I'm about to learn now, aren't I? I'll try to avoid deep ruts when talking off."

"I'm no instructor."

"Well you are now, Duncan. You're all we've got. Actually, I'd prefer you to say nothing unless absolutely necessary and I wish to give the take-off my 100 percent concentration."

"I don't like this, Dee Dee. I don't like it at all."

"Shut up, Duncan. Remember you are a Southern Mountain Man and mate, trust me as you would one of your male mates. I'm dedicated to getting us out of here. When we get out of here and into better radio reception, I'll call medics to meet us at the local airport. You'll have to direct me how to get there. We still have great visibility, thank goodness."

They lifted into the air, after Duncan had groaned as every bump.

"Perfect," he said. "As good as I would have managed without cracked ribs."

"I'm so proud of you being so brave in the face of your injury, darling."

He shook his head on wonder.

They landed on the smooth grass runway of the local airport used principally by fertilizer top-dressing and crop-spraying aircraft.

Dee Dee taxied the aircraft back towards the small group waiting with the ambulance crew.

Ron and Kate, plus two local pilots were among the group watching the landing.

Kate said, "Omigod, that's a better touch-down than anyone around here manages and any guy who disagrees with that can expected a boot in the nuts."

"Yeah, great landing," the guys including Ron dutifully agreed.

The ambulance backed up to the aircraft. The doors were opened and Duncan sat on the landing above the steps while being given a pain-killing injection and having his ribs tightly bandage.

"Ah, does tough ol' Duncan has to rely on an English babe to get his out of trouble," a bewhiskered giant of a guy said, somewhat sympathetically.

"Bruce, she's no English babe. Standing up facing a charging bull and then flying me out of that rough terrain in an emergency in case a lung had been pierced by bone fragments means Dee Dee has qualified to be called a Southern Mountain Woman."

The guys clapped and cheers and Kate punched the air in enthusiastic pride for her friend.

"Say something, Dee Dee."

"It was nothing really. It's just what women do. Oh, there's one thing I have to say and that is Duncan has to learn how to side-step a charging bull. But I acknowledge moving out of the way of a 400 lb. bull, takes speed and good timing."

Ron said, "That Angus short-horn bull would weigh close to 2000 lbs."

Bruce caught Dee Dee who sighed and fainted.

Ron drove to the small rural hospital behind the ambulance and one of the commercial pilots dropped Kate and Dee Dee back at their home.

Next morning, with the storm about to break, Ron, Kate and Dee Dee went to the hospital to check on Duncan, they went to the ward he was in, there being only one ward and six single rooms at the tiny hospital and staff and patients applauded the arrivals.

A patient held up the morning local newspaper, that's published twice a week, and pointed to the front page picture of Dee Dee surrounded by people at the airport.

"Who the fuck took my picture looking a mess like that?" Dee Dee thundered.

"One of the volunteer ambulance crew," said someone.

"It's a case of having to endure fame," said the hospital manager. "You have become a breed of a small number of heroic females in this part of the country, a rare Southern Mountain Woman. Gee, your mother in England would have a fit seeing the type of country you flew that aircraft out of yesterday in your first experience in being at the controls of an aircraft in alpine country."

"Oh please, it was nothing, nothing at all worth discussing."

"Dee Dee, please, silly modesty doesn't become you. I've been a pilot for 27-years and every weekend I'm off-duty and am on standby as a reserve search and rescue pilot. I've land and taken off on that 550-acre so-called paddock that you flew from yesterday three times and can tell you it was no picnic and I knew each time I was in a situation of a crash waiting to happen if I wasn't on top of my game. Just accept the plaudits and the honor of becoming a SMW."

"Thank you, um..."

"Jessie."

"Thanks for giving me perspective, Jessie. Something tells me you are a SWM too."

"Oh, perhaps I am."

The guy who held up the newspaper earlier said, "Jessie was bestowed with Southern Mountain Woman status seven or eight years ago by the news media, after flying the wife of a visiting US diplomat on vacation in New Zealand when she flew the woman with a broken neck, that eventually healed satisfactorily, from a high alpine land strip just as a total white-out began wiping out visibility with another snowstorm. She still had time to abort the take-off safely when the diplomat said, "Hospital urgently please, Jessie."

"Jessie completed the take-off until calculating she was clear of the hill to the east and then turned east away from the alps until flying into good visibility to adjusting the direction to Christchurch City."

"You have a big mouth, Jerry."

"Well, I didn't want you to be accused of silly modesty, Jess."

Duncan was cleared by the duty doctor to go home with his ribs bandaged and right arm in a sling and given medication to take with him. They arrived at the farmhouse just as the wind was battering the area and snow was beginning to fall. Dee Dee had cradled him against her during the journey home.

"Duncan will need to sleep in my room, someone needs to be with him," Dee Dee said.

No objection was voiced. Nor was there any comment on Dee Dee's comment that had sounded more like a command than a sound suggestion.

Chapter 4

Ron and Kate had the appearance of having just completed having sex when Dee Dee walked in with three mugs of coffee and she got into bed beside Kate.

"We've just had sex," Kate said.

Ron muttered. "Christ.

"Isn't that what married couples do?" Dee Dee said, faking a naïve voice.

The three of them laughed, a Kate, nude, sat up against the headboard with her long-time friend who was really making a name for herself in the district.

"As a new SMW, you'll be asked to speak to various groups around the district that will probably include Rotary Clubs."

"What rubbish."

The phone went and Ron answered and handed it to Kate, saying it was Jill.

"Hi Jill, is the storm being you guys problems?

"What, you are calling me to arrange it when it's not quite 7 a.m."

"Okay, I'll ask her."

"It's Jill Rogers, chair of the district's Countrywomen's Institute. She wants you to speak to their luncheon on Friday."

"Tell her yes, but say I really have nothing to talk to them about."

"Dee Dee said that's fine, Jill. I'll introduce her to the meeting. You might not be aware that Dee Dee is really Lady Dee Dee, wife of Sir Richard Ascot-Jones, who wanted Dee Dee to be accompanied to New Zealand with a chauffer and a couple of servants but Dee Dee, according to a London newspaper, said no, she wanted to live like the natives. Oh, Dee Dee's mother is a well-known and highly respected London socialite queen who has raised millions of pounds for charities. Yes, as you say, there's a ton of interesting stuff to be gleaned from our high-flying very personable Englishwoman now making such an impact here."