Way Out West

I frowned as I contemplated the situation.

"So, if she'd outlived him she would have been the legal owner of this place."

Dolores stared at me for a moment.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this. Gunnar and my mum were involved, but she always knew her place."

"Where? In a basket at the bottom of the bed?" I leaned forward on my elbows.

"I don't care about the relationship between them, but it seems to me that if they were together that long then she should have been the legal beneficiary of this place and by direct descent, you too are the legal owner."

Dolores sat down opposite me and stared past me.

"What are you saying? You inherited the farm. It was in his will."

"I know, I read the will, several times but if I'm the legal owner of this place then I can also legally gift this place to someone else. So," I stared at the table for a moment.

"If you and I find we can't live under the same roof then I'll move out and leave you with the place, lock, stock and two smoking barrels. I'm not saying that to get into your pants, that's a choice only you can make but it seems to me that my biological father was not so egalitarian as he made out, maybe he smoked too much weed or maybe the sun just fried his brain."

"Huh," she rocked back in her chair, "I had this fucking grouse line I was going to use but you've just taken the wind out of my sails, although this doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you."

"This isn't about sex," I replied, "this is about the way we deal with injustice. Jean and others like her think they can lord it over your people because of the colour of your skin and whilst I can say my piece and rage against the machine it's all just empty words," I stared at another spider that had just crawled out from behind a picture.

"But if nothing changes, nothing changes. So I've decided to make you my next of kin," I kept my eyes on the spider, "just in case one of those spiders or a snake bites me. My mother and stepfather would never do anything with this place but you understand what I'm doing here. I don't care if you sleep with me or not because it's not about sex it's about righting a wrong that should have been righted years ago. I have no idea why my father didn't make her or you the sole beneficiary in his will but I'm not my father," I rose and leaned across the table.

"And that's not Horace, is it?"

Dolores glanced over her shoulder and then rose at the same time.

"No, that's a mouse spider," she walked to the kitchen bench and took down a frying pan dangling from a hook, "poisonous spiders don't belong inside," she took a step to her right and swung the pan at the same time. It hit the spider and flattened it. I sat down suddenly and shivered as she walked to the bin and scraped the corpse into the bin.

"The funnelwebs are the worst but they're in Sydney," she walked to the sink and flicked the tap, "they can't survive at a certain altitude and because Sydney is surrounded by mountains they can't hitch rides on cars."

"So, I can't move to Sydney then."

"Sydney is a shithole," she washed the bottom of the pan, "I hated the place. I went down with some of my people to a demonstration against Australia Day and couldn't wait to get out."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the spiders," I rubbed my arm and twitched again.

"We have a few poisonous ones but we've got antivenom as well," she hung the pan up again and propped against the bench.

"No one's ever made an offer like that though."

"Uh huh," I looked past her, almost as if I was expecting the spider's mate to drop from the ceiling.

"An offer like you just made," she put her hands against the bench.

"I mean it," I replied, "seriously, why wouldn't I include you in my will?"

"What about your own family?"

"They wouldn't move here, my mother is a politician in Aarhus and my stepfather has his business interests in Europe. They'd sell the place and move on."

Dolores said nothing as she studied the wall behind me.

"I have to take a shower," she pushed away from the bench.

I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it as she exited the room and left me to my own devices. In all honesty, the offer to put her into my will was an off the cuff suggestion but the idea had been at the back of my mind, more so after my confrontation with Jean. By then I might add, I'd found out that I had been excluded from her social circles, not that that bothered me, I had no intention of driving an hour into town for their sake. I rose from the table and began to wash the dishes, anything to distract me, I felt as if I'd crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed.

I'd just finished the washing up when Dolores entered the room again. She'd showered and changed into a white shirt and tan shorts. Our eyes met and she glanced at the dishes in the dish rack.

"I'll dry them, why don't you have a shower."

"I'm okay, I'll have one before I go to bed," I replied.

"I insist," she joined me at the sink, "I'll give you my answer then."

I read the look in her eyes in a heartbeat and nodded.

"Okay, I'll have a shower."

I felt as if I was having one of those out of body experiences as I stripped in the bathroom and got into the shower. I'd never thought of myself as being a seductress and in fact I'd tried hard to avoid physical contact and intimacy with women. It was a necessary part of my road to recovery, I knew I had PTSD and whilst it's not a mandatory requirement to avoid relationships I certainly wanted to keep some distance between this damaged individual and any innocent bystanders. I closed my eyes and let the water cascade over my naked body.

In my mind's eye I went back to the camp shower in Afghanistan, we showered with a rifle within easy reach even though we had sentries on duty. I remember thinking it was extreme at the time until one afternoon when the Taliban mortared our camp while I was in the shower. I froze in fear as I heard the explosions reverberating against the mountainsides. My rifle was leaning against a wall and yet I couldn't bring myself to step out of the shower and grab the gun. Thankfully, the attack only lasted a few minutes and by then I'd managed to get out of the shower and get dressed.

I opened my eyes and stared at the tiles on the cubicle. That was then, this was now. The Taliban were thousands of miles away and I could shower without having a gun nearby. I put my palms on the cubicle wall and felt the tiles. The journey of a thousand miles began with the first step so the old proverb ran and I had journeyed thousands of miles to this outback town and yet I hadn't taken a step outside myself. I'd taken myself with me. I stared at the mirror through the sliding door, as soon as I stepped out of the shower I'd be face to face with me yet again.

"When are you going to get past this?" I spoke to myself.

There was no answer, thank God but as I washed the dirt and sweat from my body I resolved that if she came onto me I wasn't going to refuse her. She was worth that much at least and when I finally stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom some fifteen minutes later I decided to go for broke and put on a dress. I usually wear shirts and trousers or shorts but tonight I donned a dress I'd picked up at a store in Sydney, one of those three for the price of two deals.

The dress was covered in a pattern of flowers and leaves and came with a belt cut from the same fabric as the dress. It was the first time I'd put on a dress in nearly three years and it felt almost as if I was faking it as I exited the bedroom and came down the few steps to the upstairs sitting room. I came to a halt as I saw Stan sitting on the couch talking to Dolores. He usually kept to the ground floor but occasionally he'd wander upstairs to 'chew the fat' as he put it.

"Well, look at you," he ran an eye over me, "if you're on your way out you've forgotten your shoes."

"I'm not going out," I replied.

"Righto then," he leaned forward, "I guess I've got things to do."

"Before you go," I sat down opposite them, "I'd like to make an announcement," I managed a tight smile, "and before you ask, I'm not thinking of leaving and I haven't been diagnosed with some fatal illness."

"Okay, I'm happy to hear it," Stan looked at me.

"But in the event that some misfortune does take me before either of you two, I'd like you to know that you'll both be included in my will."

"Your will?" Stan looked confused.

"Someone would have to carry on the work, such as it is. I don't know how the percentages would be worked out because as I just said, I'm not leaving or dying but I like what's happening here and I just want you both to know I couldn't do it without you."

"Geez, you don't do anything by halves," Stan replied, "um, thanks, I think."

"No worries," I smiled.

"I'll go back downstairs," he rose, "I did come up for a reason though."

"What was that?" I was suddenly aware that Dolores was looking away and biting her bottom lip.

"You won't be hearing from Jean for the foreseeable future."

"Why? What's happened to her?"

"Her husband traded her in for a younger, faster model."

"Huh?" I tried to make the connection.

"He's rooting one of the barmaids at his local pub. Jean caught them in bed and decided to go back to her sister's place in Cairns, but Haggis is staying put because he's a local and she's just a blow in from up north."

I exhaled suddenly.

"And it couldn't have happened to a nicer person," Stan grinned.

"A blow in is a newcomer?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's the one," he nodded at Dolores who had just started chuckling.

"Although it's bad luck to laugh at someone else's misfortune."

"I'm laughing at his fortune," she replied, "he's been rooting Felicity for the last two years, but Jean was always too busy with her long lunches with the girls. They were childhood sweethearts so I was told, before Jean got pregnant to him."

"Now, even I didn't know that," Stan rubbed his chin, "I thought it was just a recent thing."

I waited until he'd gone back downstairs before speaking again.

"So, Jean has gone north."

"Yeah," Dolores grinned, "and Cairns is about as far as you can go without going bush, after that it's all rainforest, big hairy spiders, snakes and crocs."

I shivered at that and she shifted in her seat.

"You really don't like our spiders."

"Do you blame me?"

"No, it's just that you're not used to them. We grew up with the beastly little fuckers, I kill the poisonous ones and leave the non poisonous ones alone. I used to have a pet spider when I was younger."

"What happened to him?" I stared at her.

"Gunnar's dog ate him," she chuckled, "my mum told me I screamed so loudly she thought I'd been bitten by my pet spider."

"I'm trying to get over the thought of having a pet spider," I replied, "I knew a guy in what you might call senior high who kept tarantulas at home, he brought a couple into class one day to show the rest of us."

"His name wasn't Peter Parker was it?"

"No," I leaned forward to scratch my leg, "but he was a big Spiderman fan."

"You really are a dark horse though," she went on. "I was thinking while you were making yourself look pretty that maybe this was your way of getting into my pants but then you said what you did a few minutes ago. I think Stan is actually embarrassed now."

"I didn't mean to embarrass anyone," I contemplated the coffee table, "it's just my way of saying that I'm staying here for a while at least. Maybe I'll split my time between here and Denmark but that's a topic for another day but I belong here and I need to make sure everything is ship shape as they say."

Dolores moved across the couch and patted the cushion beside her.

"Well, don't be shy unless it's part of your arsenal."

"I don't have an arsenal any more," I rose and moved to the couch, "unless a couple of rifles qualifies as an arsenal."

"Not exactly," Dolores put her feet on the table, "so, my answer."

"Is what?" I sat down.

"Yes," she stared at the ceiling, "I'm up for a bit of slap and tickle. What's the Danish word for it?"

"Hygge," I replied, "we say, let's go back to your place and make a bit of hygge."

She burst out laughing at that.

"You'll laugh even more when I spell the word for you," I went on, "it just means getting cosy, drinking coffee or having a meal together is hygge, watching the television by yourself is hygge and so is sex. It can be used to describe almost any situation where you feel contented and happy."

"Hygge," she smoothed out her shorts, "so that's what I've been feeling ever since you arrived."

I opened my mouth to say something but shut it again as she went on.

"The first time I saw you I told Stan you wouldn't last the month but here you are, three months on and you're still here," she put her hand on my leg, "you're tougher than you think."

"I was in a war zone but it didn't make me tough, most of the time you just put one foot in front of the other and hope you're not stepping on an IED."

She said nothing to that and I put my feet up on the table. We sat in silence for some five minutes and then I spoke up.

"This is one thing I can't get enough of."

"What?" Dolores nudged my leg with hers, "sitting here with a hot chick?"

"Silence," I replied, "the first night here the silence woke me up, I was in a cold sweat because I was expecting an attack. Where I'm from it's always noisy, but in Afghanistan the silence just makes you more alert, I got out of bed and just stared out the window at the stars and the blackness all around. It took me ages to get back to sleep again."

"It's part of what we call the Dreaming," she murmured, "we believe that the spirits of our kin and our ancestors are all around us, they talk to us if we sit and listen to the silence."

"And do you? Listen to the silence?"

"Sometimes," she drew her hand up my leg, "but most of the time I just drift off to sleep."

She'd reached my upper thigh by now and she turned slightly towards me. I looked down as she drew her fingers over my pussy, pausing at one of the buttons. The dress was buttoned all the way to just above my cleavage. She continued up over my belly and then under one of my breasts, a smile nudged her lips.

"You're becoming acclimatized to the heat, no bra."

"I wore one today but I was working outside," the last word came out as a groan as she squeezed my breast.

"Ooh, that did something," she shifted closer and pulling her feet off the table, put one knee on the couch and the other leg across my legs, effectively trapping me. I felt the familiar symptoms of arousal as she went to work on my breast, but she didn't seem in a hurry to move off my breast, she almost seemed fixated by the look on my face.

That changed however when she changed position again, this time she straddled me and massaged my breasts slowly and rhythmically, rising and falling at the same time. She went to kiss me a few times but pulled back at the last moment until finally I brought my hands up over her front to her neck and pulled her down for a quick teasing kiss. I felt the tremor go through her body as our lips parted company and then we were kissing again. This time the kiss lasted longer and I sensed that she was moving closer to the edge, but at that point she was just kissing and feeling my breasts, and that was enough for the next few minutes.

Eventually however she stopped massaging my breasts and dropped her hands to my belt, she had a slight smile on her face as she untied it and then stroked my belly. We kissed again, long lingering kisses that left me in no doubt where this was going and it occurred to me that perhaps we should move to a bedroom. Dolores however was still kissing me. I felt her tugging at a button and then it popped loose and her fingers danced over my belly. I shivered with delight and anticipation as she teased my skin with delicate touches.

My breathing became shallower as she undid another button to expose more of my belly. I felt her hands moving beneath the dress to my breasts again and then she found them and went back to her massage. Our kissing became more intense almost right away and I started exploring her breasts through the shirt. She has smaller breasts and unlike me, she was wearing a bra. A low moan escaped her lips as I rubbed my thumbnails over her nipples.

"Oh, that's something guys don't do," she murmured, "an Aussie guy's version of foreplay is four cans of beer," she undid a couple of buttons to expose my breasts.

"And the afterglow?"

"The cigarette," she dipped her head and bit my shoulder, I let out a low moan as she kissed my throat and bit the other shoulder, "but this is something else."

I dropped my hands further down to rub her pussy through the shorts and she spread her legs a little and glanced down, her breathing quickened as I kept rubbing and then she suddenly let out a low moan and slid off me.

"Not here," she took my hands, "the bedroom."

"Yours or mine?" I asked as I let her pull me to my feet.

"I don't care."

Her bedroom was closer and yet it took us a few minutes to cross the floor and go up the hallway to her door. I pinned her to the door and undid her belt as I kissed her passionately. The door opened a minute or two later and we almost fell through it, if not for the fact that Dolores was able to keep her balance and walk me into the room.

I closed the door behind me and undid a few more buttons on my dress to expose my panties, she stared at my white panties and then grinned as she undid the button on her shorts and playfully tugged at the zipper. I undid the last few buttons and let the dress fall down my back to the floor, her shorts were hanging open to expose her panties as well. Our approach to the bed was a little slower as she unbuttoned her shirt and by the time we reached her bed her shirt was dangling on her arms and the shorts had dropped to her feet.

There was a few moments of hesitation as she discarded the shirt and shorts and then we were at it again, falling onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, our mouths locked together in a series of teasing kisses. I eventually ended up on top of her and as I began to explore her body, Dolores undid her bra and flung it to one side to expose her pert, upturned nipples. I latched onto them not long after, swirling my tongue around each nipple whilst massaging the other breast.

The effect was riveting, she arched her back rhythmically as I worked and I spent some time on her breasts until her nipples were hard and then I moved further south to her flat belly and the patch of hair between her legs. She was still wearing her panties at that point but that barrier was removed soon enough as I peeled her panties off and flung them to one side. It was only then that she seemed to hesitate, I saw the look in her eyes as I prepared to go down on her.

"Relax, I'm the same down there."

She bit her lip and spread her lips as she rubbed herself. I tickled her perineum and her eyes rolled back in her head as I did so. Gradually her rubbing slowed as I kept tickling her perineum and inner thighs in turn. Her breathing became ragged as I picked up the pace and then I slid a finger inside her passage. She arched her back and let out a guttural moan, and I went deeper. She spread her legs wider and I bent my finger and drew it back out. Her loud moan became more pronounced and as I repeated the motion she began to move with me, pushing against my finger.

I shifted position slightly to make it easier to go to work on her clitoris and that certainly got her juices flowing. With every passing minute she became more and more aroused until finally she was crying out and whimpering for mercy that finally came when the orgasm hit her. I felt her passage tightening around my fingers as the spasm moved through her but kept sliding in and out as the spasms gained in intensity and then she was arching her back violently as she peaked. It took a full minute to calm down again and her eyes softened as she perched on her elbows.