Recuperating with Fred

Cindy turned away in horror and felt a tingle go down to between her thighs. This talk was activating her but she knew how to cure that: she fixed her mind on her mother's final days and that really eradicated that rogue feeling.

A filled bladder produced a crisis for Cindy.

"Err Fred. I need to go."

He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. There was no restroom, in fact there was no sign of a building anywhere.

"No toilets around here luv. Just squat beside the vehicle. There's little traffic on the road today, chances are they'll be travelling too fast to see anything and the reality is there's nothing to see anyway, unless you shave."

Cindy opened the door and almost fell out in her haste to lengthen the distance between herself and this obnoxious man; how dare he comment or even think about her private parts.

She squatted. The woman who'd been told she had the alternative to hold on and he'd drive her another 40 miles to a decent clean restroom, allowed the flow of processed beer to escape between her legs, throwing her head back in pleasurable relief and thinking that was almost as good as ejaculating during an extra good bout of sex.

Omigod, whatever was she thinking?

Cindy held steady, allowing to drip-dry, not having a tissue although there was a small packet in her handbag. The icy coldness from the ground seeped up between her warm thighs.

"Here your go," said Fred, calling out just behind her. "I dug round in your handbag and found these tissues, you Yankee dames usually carry a mini pack."

"Thank you, Fred, marvellous," she heard herself saying, although seething that he'd had the audacity to go through her handbag.

Thank god she was not carrying condoms. They were in her designer suitcase in the tray with the dogs, as she really didn't think there was much purpose bringing them on this trip but she'd packed them, just in case she met a randy schoolteacher or salesman or perhaps a handsome hunter. Being in the country, there was bound to be hunters shooting the guts out of poor wild creatures.

Cindy climbed back into the cab to find Fred was standing outside his open door, back to her, and urinating across the middle line of the two-lane highway as if he were playing a game.

She smiled, unable to feel disgusted at such outlandish behaviour. She now had Fred summed up: a man with real character just like the male characters in her books; it was beginning to emerge that Fred was a real larger-than-life character. She wondered what technique he'd use to get past her panties.

She yawned.

"Don't go to sleep, we're almost at the turnoff," said Fred, with reverence as if they were about to enter The Garden of Eden.

Then she felt like patting him and saying 'Naughty boy' when he confessed: "I love shooting a stream of piss when it's cold like this, watching the steam come off it. But pissing into snow is even better. Do you like pissing into the snow and watching the snow melt?"

"No Fred, can't say I do. But I can imagine that under your care-free influence I will come face to face with that experience."

"You will sweetie, and you'll face much more than that."

Cindy sighed. The seduction has begun, he's just used an endearment. He's already removed her hostility toward him, so she guessed she was becoming ready to roll over.

They drove on an unsealed access road and the farther they travelled the narrower it became until Fred pointed out the access road to the left and said that led to Bill and Mary's farmhouse.

"Do they have a big farm?"

"Six hundred and sixty-six acres including this valley floor run-off here with excellent finishing-off acreage, approximately half of the farm actually."

"What does that mean."

"Land to fatten or finish off cattle for slaughter."

"Yuck. How big is your farm?"

"Eighty-seven hundred and ninety-seven acres."

"Wow."

"Much of it's pretty rough."

They arrived at the cottage. It was perched on a small hill that Fred called a hillock, right beside big Lake Mellows. All land on the both sides of the lake was covered in snow and where they were there was only snow in the shady part of gullies.

"This is home for you for the next month. I leave you alone for the first week, giving you time to find yourself. There's no phone, no TV - just plenty of books, CDs and there's a DVD/video player with a big stock of pre-1960s American, French and English videos, mainly musicals, classics and romances. Nothing brutal or disturbing."

"If you get lonely or want something, come find me. It's a 400 yard walk up there along this track. For your own peace of mind there is a loaded rifle on the floor beside your bed with the safety catch off. I assure you that you'll never need it but I'll show you how to use it - just point and pull and Bang!

"Better still, I'll leave Daisy with you. She knows she's your dog until I tell her otherwise. She'll bark at anyone approaching bar me. Any questions?"

"Do I come over to the farmhouse for meals?"

"No, you're self-contained here including dog tucker for Daisy. I don't come near you for a week and then it will be to start your program. Eight days from today we go riding and then every morning at 6:00 I'll leave a saddled mare tethered by your cottage; if you don't want her, unsaddle and unbridle her and let her wander off to graze. If you want me in an emergency fire off two shots into the air in quick succession. I'll hear the shots wherever I am on the property and won't leave the property without you while you're living here."

"Did Gloria Fisher do the week's isolation?"

"Yes, and she and fifty-three of the other fifty-seven who have come here did so and Gloria and those other thirty-three went home changed women."

"And those other four?"

"Three of them I took back to Auckland to board an aircraft home inside the first week and the other one I took to the police station. She drowned herself swimming out into the lake, leaving a note. I was investigated but the Coroner's finding was I was not at fault, the death was self-inflicted.

"How awful for you."

"Not really; she'd decided her life was finished, so finished it. Some animals choose to die like that."

"But we humans are not animals."

"Are you sure about that? Egos can over-inflate a person."

Cindy was left pondering that as Fred went to the back of the pick-up and let one of the dogs out. Cindy was thrilled to see it was the kissing dog.

"Cheers and I'll see you in a week, unless you come over. Keep warm and happy and remember, it will snow tonight, quite heavily."

"Aren't you going to show me through the cottage like a proper host?"

"No, you go quietly exploring, not that there's much to see."

"Fine. Well goodbye, Fred," said Cindy holding out her hand to be shaken.

"Glad to see you purchased a really good Stetson," he called. "Looks cute on you."

He walked off ignoring her outstretched hand.

"The key, I'll need a key to get into the cottage," she called.

"It's never been locked; this is rural New Zealand where trust and honesty are paramount. But there's a sliding bolt of the inside of the door to shut it securely if you feel threatened."

He drove away and Cindy watched the vehicle rumble up and over the hill and disappear. She'd never felt so lonely in her life. Then something warm and wet licked her hand.

Cindy dropped to her knees and hugged Daisy and cried.

Chapter 3

A sexy tongue in her ear awoke Cindy at 5:55 in the morning.

"Yuck, down Daisy."

The black and white Border Collie, a breed that Cindy knew was one of the most intelligent of dogs, dropped to the floor and stood at the door, looking at the door rather than Cindy. The dog's desire was expressed as clearly as words: "I want out."

Cindy went sleepily to the door, naked of course as that's the way she slept, opened the door and was covered in cold air rushing into the room. Daisy went out and Cindy slammed the door shut but not before seeing at least four inches of snow on the ground. She stood shivering, arms clasped under her slightly hanging breasts weighing down with advancing age and muscle fatigue, not sure why she was standing there.

A bark sounded and the more intelligent of the two of them, at least right at that moment, Daisy came back inside, greatly relieved. Cindy staggered back to bed and Daisy didn't even bother to follow her, flopping down by the liquid propane heater topped by a cooking surface instead, whereas the previous night Daisy had fought to be admitted to the bedroom.

The previous mid-afternoon when she'd entered the cottage, bossy Daisy had proceeded her, sniffing Cindy until she realized - or rather, suspected - that Daisy was 'casing the joint'. The dog scanned the main room, sniffed under the table and chairs and then did the bathroom and then the bedroom. Satisfied, she came padding out and drank from her water container in the kitchen area.

Cindy's creatively locked mind fired up and filed away that little demonstration of canine care for possible future use. Daisy obviously had been checking to ensure there were no strangers, rodents or other nasties to harm the woman in her care.

That was absolutely amazing, thought Cindy, and an image flashed into her mind of being stretched out across the kitchen table and Fred failing her with a hairbrush for improper use of language. The thought failed to progress but at least she'd discovered her imaginative thought process was not totally impaired.

There were rugs spread over the cement floor but the walls and ceiling were lined with a beautiful knot-free wood that ranged in colours from blonde to quite deep red and was protected with a coating of polyurethane.

The bed occupied almost all the room, a big king-size bed with a very soft mattress.

The words in the advertisement 'All found' were true. Included were food, liquor scented cooking oils, a pizza stone, cans of fillings, tins of fruit, a bread-maker with an instruction book, several kinds of coffee, frozen meats, salmon and something called venison sausages in the gas-fuelled refrigerator-freezer and in the bathroom she found four different brands of high quality hair shampoo and conditioner, nail polish remover, facial creams and moisturisers and in the cabinet women's shaving equipment, tampons and even condoms.

She was most impressed. She had everything but company, though she did have Daisy.

When it was warmer, inspect the box against the cottage containing the noisy diesel generator that would heat the water system and provide electricity for the bread-maker and electric fry pan if she wasn't into heater-top cooking.

Cindy remembered what Fred had told her in the vehicle. She'd argued about his intention to leave her in isolation for a week, but he only repeated what he'd said earlier, "You agreed when replying to my email that you would do everything I asked unless it was abhorrent to you."

In the end she yielded. She stood at the washbasin and removed all her make up including eyelash extensions and then sat on the bath and removed her nail polish. She felt naked and thought of her dildo but was then overcome by alarm. She'd not brought spare batteries and she wasn't sure that the cottage electricity system would be appropriate for her recharger.

Then Cindy remembered Fred had spoken about the video player. That must work on electricity. She went out the backdoor and found the box containing a small generator with instructions taped on the lid of the box how to start and the thing with a pull-cord. Yes! The notice said the interior wall outlets could be used to recharge battery chargers.

Cindy made a Martini and went to sit on the sofa, but Daisy appeared to be playing some sort of game with her - blocking her way to the sofa. No matter how fast Cindy tried to get by, Daisy was too quick for her, even when she feinted. Eventually Cindy gave up and sat down on the rocking chair it was so low that she'd decided not to sit on the sofa instead. When Daisy dropped beside her, Cindy thought perhaps Daisy had not been playing. So why was she supposed to be sitting in this chair?

It was lonely but pleasant and the drink was fine and Cindy, rocking, put down her glass and thought about getting up and making herself another Martini. She looked out of the now clear window at the mountains across the lake...the next thing she knew it was 7:15.

Cindy jumped out, poured some dog biscuits for Daisy and opened a can of baked beans and made a small salad which she began eating after letting Daisy out for a run. Through the kitchen window she saw Daisy loping over the hill heading for the farmhouse so she said, "Goodbye Daisy" - but once again was outwitted. Thirty minutes later a bark announced Daisy wanted to be let in.

"I'll not go to sleep after almost four hours of afternoon sleep," though Cindy, pouring a glass of red wine made by Mt Difficulty winery with the delightful name of Roaring Meg Merlot to go with her half a can of baked beans.

After that she and Daisy went for a long walk around the fringe of the lake. There was a defined but apparently little used walking track around its perimeter. Returning to the cottage Cindy ran a bath and sang herself to near sleep, helped by another glass of wine, and after the fight she lost with Daisy wanting bedroom access, went to sleep within minutes at 9:00 and didn't stir until Daisy's pre-dawn call.

Each day, twice a day, Cindy and Daisy went walking, walking a longer distance each time. On the sixth day Cindy packed bread and cheese, water and wine and dog biscuits. She had become quite skilled with the break-maker and was proud of her efforts.

This day was considerably warmer, with no wind, so Cindy had decided to go on the 16-mile hike around the lake. She'd never walked that far in his life, but was determined to do it.

She left a note on the table for Fred, assuming he checked each evening to make sure the propane gas lanterns were on at the cottage, indicating all was well. She also carried a piece of paper, pencil, rubber band and pencil to write out a message if she had trouble - knowing that Daisy would come through for her and deliver the note and bring back Fred to her rescue.

Cindy, now back to doing floor exercises for the first time in years, felt ready to jump out of her skin. No way was she going to twist an ankle or run out of steam.

She estimated at a leisurely pace, and allowing short rest stops and a longer rest for lunch, the walk should be completed with five and a half hours - six hours maximum, so she'd be back at the cottage before dark. She found a torch and small medical kit which she packed and added a sleeping bag, just in case.

But the walk with her loaded backpack went without a hitch. There were some black cattle on the path - Cindy had no idea if they were dangerous or not. She called sharply "Daisy" and the dog went after them and they went through an open gate about 200 yards farther down the path. Cindy found the fastener was broken so tied up the gate with the piece of string wound around the sleeping bag.

On the mountain side just after lunch she saw Daisy bristle and looking down the path Cindy saw two deer, obviously a doe and stag. It was the first time she'd seen wild animals this big in their natural habitat and whispered Daisy to her, and sat and watched them graze until something disturbed them and they loped uphill into the forest, or bush as Fred called it.

"Wasn't that lovely, Daisy, so beautiful." Daisy turned and gave her a kiss, a lick really but it felt like a kiss.

Cindy walked into the cottage and checked the clock. She'd completed the walk, without any sign of fatigue, in five hours, five minutes. She was ever so pleased though realizing real hikers would probably cut an hour or more off that time, but it had been her first long hike ever. She felt exalted.

With steak having been left out to thaw for dinner she carved off a quarter, cut it up and gave it to Daisy who obviously knew she was being treated.

In the bath, Cindy meditated. This week ending tomorrow was by far the longest she'd ever spent without talking to another person. Each day she rushed out at the sound of a vehicle and waved; it always was Fred who'd wave back, never opening the driver's window to talk to her, the meanie.

However, she conceded this unnatural isolation had done its job. Her mind had cleared, she felt stronger and more alert and that pathetic bleat in her voice, gauged by talking to Daisy, had gone. She decided she'd rest all day in bed tomorrow and then next day trip into anything Fred had to offer.

Next morning, Cindy heard Daisy stir and give a brief whine. Someone was coming! Well, she'd bolted the door and wouldn't reach for the rifle unless someone came bursting in. Ah, silly Fred had forgotten to give her firearm instruction but had said point and shoot so she felt confident of being able to do that. She'd seen movies of people shooting firearms and it didn't appear too difficult.

Daisy didn't bark so Cindy remembered Fred's words, she won't bark if it was him.

She then heard the snort of a horse and the jingle of a mouth bit.

Fantastic, she thought, a horse to ride but he's stuffed up, he's a day early. It then occurred to her that Fred had counted her arrival day as Day One whereas she began her count from the next morning.

Giving Fred time to walk away she put on the oilskin hanging inside the backdoor and with the torch went out to introduce herself to the mare. She patted it and was pleased although it was a tall mare, she was very quiet. There was a note clipped to the reins: 'Hello, my name is Tammy. Tighten the saddle before you ride me. Punch me on the gut very firmly to make me exhale otherwise you'll not get the girth strap tight enough."

Cindy called Daisy, who was staring in the direction of the farmhouse, probably being able to smell the retreating Fred, and they went inside for early breakfast and to pack lunch.

At first light, with the saddle strap tightened, Cindy rode off, Daisy at their side. She'd left a note on the table: "Hungerford Hill - back about 2:00 I reckon. Tammy's lovely. xxx."

She rode the two miles to the start of the hill, looking ahead and to the sides; there was no reason to look back so she failed to see the storm clouds gathering.

The gentle breeze behind her back turned into a wind almost two hours into the ride. Surprised, Cindy turned into the saddle and paled: a storm was rushing on to her, coming over the mountain range that Fred called the tops. In the distance she could see leaves flying off bowing trees.

Abandoning her plan to ride to the top of Hungerford Hill, she began riding around it to get into the lee - there were either sheep or cattle tracks to follow and Tammy picked her way surely, responding to the rider's tongue clicks of urgency.

It was snowing before they completed the half circuit. Horse, dog and rider completed the ride until into the lee, considerably sheltered from the howling wind by the hillside.

Far below, Cindy spotted a hay shed and headed for it; as the hillside began to flatten out, she kicked Tammy into a trot and allowed the mare her head. She coped brilliantly, sliding at times but dropping her haunches until the ground firmed. The ground was white rather than green when the trio made it to the lee of the haybarn.

Cindy was thrilled: she'd had the ride of her life and Tammy was in good shape. Her spirits sank she found the hayshed was packed with hay, offering no space to shelter. The wind was still increasing a mini snow drift was already building against the doors which partly faced into the direction of the storm.

She went around to the other side and was relieved to find doors there and decided to open them, toss out some of the bales of hay until there was enough space to stable Tammy, Daisy and herself. But to her dismay found these doors were nailed shut. The only thing to do was to shelter against these doors.