Pastorale.

Kissy.

Aidan McGill © 2006

I met Kissy in mid-summer, five years after I moved to the farm. However, I actually met her back down in the city.

I'm Jack Nichols. I own a small farm at the base of a range of granite hills, in the centre of the state. I'd taught science until I was thirty, saved assiduously, come into some money, and used it and my savings to buy the farm. I'd chosen carefully: in fact I'd had my eye on the property since I was five years old. It's surrounded by pretty rough country, with the hills being State Forest and National Park. However, my section is fairly level, is fertile and has permanent water. At 128 hectares or 320 acres, most people thought it was too small and isolated to be viable, which was why I could afford to buy it. I'd sneaked in and taken an option on the place with the owners - distant relatives - when I was twenty-five, then bought it when they planned to retire. It never even came on the market. It had been used for grazing and growing lucerne (alfalfa) hay, but I followed a growing trend and put in several hectares of wine grapes, with different varieties ripening over almost three months. I studied viticulture and winemaking. I also put in areas dedicated to apples for cider, pears for perry, and smaller areas of stone fruit dedicated to speciality fruit wines. I added two hectares of mixed olives, some for oil and some for pickling.

I was going to put in a small commercial wine cellar, and hoped to do cellar-door sales, tours, and boutique sales to restaurants and by subscription. You don't make real money just selling your produce. You need to add value. However, much of that was in the future. In the meantime I sold quality meat animals, as many as possible by private treaty to restaurants, speciality suppliers and even private individuals. I also added poultry and game birds aimed at the same markets.

My first priority was to develop the farm, my second to pay it off. Mortgage payments are - or more particularly mortgage interest is - a killer. Life is so much easier when your money and your land's your own. Every spare dollar I had beyond development needs went into paying down the mortgage.

I still taught: casual teaching around the area on an ad hoc basis. It averaged about two days a week. I could have made that full-time if I wished. Science teachers willing to live in small country communities are a rare breed. I also stretched my dollars as far as possible. I'd been raised on a small farm in the same district, in what seemed like another era. I'd learned that it's easier to spend money than to make it, but that you can eat well off your own land free of most costs. I had an old house-orchard that I'd refurbished and was expanding, and a large vegetable garden. I killed and butchered my own meat and kept my own chickens for eggs as well as meat. I sold the excess fruit, eggs and vegetables by subscription when I could, and otherwise to the local fruit and vegetable shop. I also had a milk cow and goat. I'd time the cow to go dry in preparation for her next calf just after the goat was due to kid, so I always had milk. More milk than I could use, in fact, but I made cheeses and yoghurt for my own consumption. Health regulations were too much bother to comply with for sale of the cheese, but I could barter with it, my excess produce, and my home-butchered meat. There were also plenty of people who benefited when I gave it away. Any excess produce at all went to the poultry and pigs: I kept a few pigs for my own use and local sale, but didn't deal in them in a big way.

I used a lot of grain, but didn't grow any at all. It just wasn't worth my time, my precious land, or the capital investment in grain-growing and harvesting equipment and chemicals. Instead I'd barter for what I wanted from farmers on the same road, closer in to town.

I was a born-again bachelor; freed by fate just before the move from a wife who had revealed herself a first-class bitch once we were married. Things had been beginning to look awfully like property settlements would be in my future. Not a good feeling - she'd done nothing to help earn what I had, a lot to detract from my efforts, contributed nothing positive to the marriage, and would ruin my plans if she took half or more of my capital. However, she got drunk one afternoon, drinking with the latest of a string of boyfriends, I discovered later. She was rushing to get home, at twice the speed limit and over twice the blood-alcohol limit, and speared off a bridge into a ravine. Instead of a property settlement I got an insurance settlement. You can get lucky sometimes. I'd been on the farm just over five years, I was thirty five years old, and I was still a free agent - a little gun-shy I guess.

* * * * * * * * * * *

It was mid-summer, just after New Year. School had broken up for the summer holidays. I'd left the milking animals to be taken care of by their babies. You can't do that with commercial dairies, but it's always worth retaining the option with domestic milkers. I was down in the city, attending a course that updated my teaching credentials. Had to pay for it, which is part of the cost of casual work versus full-time employment. However, it was worth it to me. If I jumped through this hoop I'd be up-to-date for another three years, and this particular course was relevant to real life, and cross-qualified me to teach agriculture as well.

I was staying with friends out in one of the garden suburbs. After lectures on Tuesday - the second day of the course - I caught a bus down to the rail station, then joined the throng crowding onto a train through my destination. I went downstairs, the girl ahead of me slid into an empty seat, and I followed her. She swung her pack down to her feet and leaned back. I rummaged through my own backpack and pulled out a clipboard and some notes to review.

By the time we'd been through a couple of stations my seatmate was asleep, totally relaxed and stretched out in her seat. I was concentrating on my notes until her leg brushed against mine, then rolled back a little. She, like me, was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. I glanced at her and then, since she was asleep, I looked more carefully.

I realised that she'd caught the bus at the university. She was a cute little thing, in a kinky kind of way. I thought "I'd love to keep her as a pet". She was just over five feet tall, dirty blonde, dirty complexioned (extensively freckled with tan in the spaces), and very furry. She definitely didn't shave her legs. You didn't notice it at first glance: she was blonde and freckled and tanned there as well. However, her leg hair was just brushing mine, and I found myself intensely aware of that tickling touch. Her build was not quite skinny - more like wiry. Lean muscles but plenty of them and big joints for her size. She had high wide cheekbones, snub nose, wide mouth, pale lips, not a pronounced chin, and no makeup. She looked a bit like a freckled frog or a ferret, only cuter.

The train continued, and when we reached a major intersection in the lines she woke up enough to peer at the station name. I took the opportunity to ask where she was going. She named my destination, and I said, "I'm going there as well. If it comes to it, I'll wake you up when we get there."

She said "Thanks" in a sleepy tone, then closed her eyes again. Hazel eyes; almost tawny gold - the similarity to a small animal loomed even larger. By the time we pulled out of the station, she was asleep once more. Shortly after that she rolled over in her seat, breathing deeply, her head resting against my shoulder. A couple of stations later, she was clasping my arm, and my study plan was shot. I just sat there, immersed in the sensation as this cute little sleeping monkey snuggled up to my shoulder.

I woke her as we approached our station, and she looked up at me and then blushed deep red. "Oh, I'm sorry", she said, releasing my arm and sitting up straight.

"Don't worry about it", I responded. "It's been a long time since a pretty girl put her head on my shoulder. I didn't mind at all."

"Hardly pretty", she said.

"Don't undersell yourself", I answered. "You're blonde, freckled, cute, intelligent. Who could ask for more? I envy the man who wins your heart."

We left it at that, and the crowd straggled through the exit gates. Crossed the road at the pedestrian lights outside the station, and she was just ahead of me again. I thought about it a second, then said "Excuse me".

She turned, saw who it was, and said "Yes?"

I said, "I just thought I'd better tell you, in this day and age - I'm not stalking you. I'm going to Acacia Street."

She gave me a hard look and said "You sure you haven't got ahead of me? I'm going there as well."

"No. I'm down here doing what's supposed to be an in-service teacher-training course. I'm not a full-time teacher, so I have to pay for it. Anyway, I'm staying with the Browns at number 56".

"If this is coincidence, it's becoming ridiculous", she said. I live next door to them, at 58".

"Uhmm", I said. "I've known the Browns a long time. I remember a Christmas party, about ten years ago now, where the neighbours were in. There was a little girl - blonde - called... Don't tell me, I can picture her - must have been you. Cute as a button. Ohhh! Ah! Katie. Katie Keogh. Was that you?"

"Well", she said, "that is me. Good heavens. I remember. I followed you around all afternoon. You're the reason I'm at university now. You're Jack-the-teacher, aren't you?"

"Well, that's flattering", I said. "Yes, I'm Jack Nichols. I'm more like Jack-the-farmer now, though. I've got a farm out in the central-west - the Central Tablelands area, and I only teach part-time."

"I remember you", she repeated. "You were so patient. There was some woman with you, but she spent her time drinking, and you spent your time talking to me. I must have been about eight. I kept asking questions, and you had all the answers, and you paid attention to me, and you spent the time to explain things so I could understand. You explained about caterpillars, and you showed me how much one was eating. You told me that it needed to store things up because it was going to go into a big change, and come out a butterfly. You showed me the rocks too, and told me how they were formed. You even went to your car and brought back a magnifying glass, and showed me a tiny fossil in the rock and a tiny gem in a rock you brought from the car. I'm studying biology now, and it's your fault."

We were walking on by now, and I glanced at her and said, "I'd apologise if I meant it, but I wouldn't mean it. It really is flattering to know I've affected someone so positively. Anyone who can think about science in a positive way is a big step forward, and anyone who BECOMES a scientist is a positive gain to the world."

"Well, I'm not actually going to become a scientist", she said. "I told you that you influenced me. I'm planning to become a science teacher."

"Huh! In that case I do apologise. Teaching these days is no bed of roses. Anyway," I said as we reached number 56, "I'm down here for a fortnight. I'll probably see you around."

"Count on it", she responded, and we walked into our respective houses.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I saw her again the next morning. I was waiting for the train when she popped up beside me and said "Hello!"

"I know!" I said. "It's you! You're the one who's following me."

"Well, I was this morning", she said. "I could see you about a minute ahead of me all the way to the station." We chatted as we waited for the train. Since the station was close enough to the end of the line there were still seats available, even in peak hour, and we sat together again. We didn't do much more talking, but pulled out notes and texts and started reading and making further notes. In the city, we boarded our bus - standing room only, and packed. She was standing in front of me, and I was acutely aware of her body against mine, with her backside nestling into my crotch. By heroic efforts I managed not to develop an erection, but my penis was definitely fatter and fuller than normal and she certainly must have noticed it was there.

For lunch I'd brought fruit and sandwiches. The course was costing me more than enough, without adding five dollars a day for bought lunches. I sought out a lawn I had used when I was doing my degree. I was about to sit down on one of the benches when Katie's voice called from two benches down. "Hey, Jack! Are you too good to sit with your old friends now?"

I moved and sat beside her. "I'm positive I didn't influence you to choose the same lawn I used for lunchtime all those years ago", I said.

"Well, maybe you did, indirectly", she said. "This is the location of choice for botany students. Anyway, I'm glad of the company. To be perfectly honest, you can protect me."

I raised my eyebrows and looked at her quizzically. She said, "There's someone I don't want to talk to. If you're with me he probably won't bother me, but I won't let him chase me away from my places." I repeated the raised eyebrows look. She sat for a few seconds with her hands clasped between her knees, looking down, then started talking.

"I broke up with my boyfriend over the weekend", she said. "That's why I was sleepy on the train yesterday. I didn't sleep at all on Sunday or Monday."

She paused a few seconds, then continued. "He was my boyfriend for three years in high school, then two years at University. Now I realise he didn't really care for me at all. It was all selfishness."

She paused again, then continued. "He wanted to have sex, and I wasn't ready for that just yet. Thinking about it now, I'm sure he hadn't been doing without it though. It's funny. If he'd waited patiently he would have got what he wanted from me - probably within a month - and I wouldn't have found out what he's like until later."

She sniffed. "He wasn't willing to be patient. Just as well. I might have married him before I found out how empty it all was. He wanted sex and he wanted it RIGHT NOW! I didn't. As it happens, he'd have been disappointed. I was having my period, but he didn't know, and he didn't ask."

She looked at me. "You'd think after five years with a female you'd have taken enough interest, even if only in self-preservation, to know her cycles, wouldn't you? Anyway, he wouldn't listen to me. I said I didn't want to do that, and he wouldn't listen. He started forcing me. Oh, not outright violence, but he was doing things to me and he was too strong for me to stop him. Just acted as if my efforts weren't there at all, and he wouldn't listen, and he was taking off my clothes, and I told him 'No!' and he didn't stop, and eventually I slapped him. He reached for me again and I said 'No!' and slapped him again. I told him 'No means no. Stop means stop. If you go on with this it will be rape, and I'll have you in prison for it. No more! Stop now!'"

She looked down again, then looked up and straight at me. "Then he tried the emotional blackmail. You know. 'But Katie, I really want to. I love you. You get me so hot I can't help myself. I need to have sex with you. If you really loved me, you'd care about how I feel. If you really loved me, you'd want to have sex with me.' I just listened to that, and suddenly I was ice cold, and I fed his words back to him. 'If YOU really loved me, YOU'D care about how I feel.' Well, you said if I really loved you I'd want to have sex with you. You may be right. In fact, you've made sure of it. I DON'T want to have sex with you now. What does that tell you, Einstein? I've listened to you, and it's all "me, me, me". You've opened my eyes to the way you are. You've showed me you never really cared for me at all, deep down. You've made sure now that, no matter how I used to feel, I can never love you again.'"

She looked at me again. "Mum always told me to keep a reserve: 'mad money' she called it. I stormed out of his flat and caught a taxi home, and spent the weekend crying. I'm over it now though. It still hurts, but it's emptiness, not wishing-it-back. What a terrible waste of all those years on that... that worthless piece of... Oh, forget it!"

I'd been sitting turned towards her, with my nearer arm draped over the back of the seat. I reached up and squeezed her shoulder, then let it go again. She looked at me, then her eyes brimmed over and she starting crying silently. I reached out the other hand and held her other arm, and she collapsed on my chest, sobbing silently. I just held her: there was nothing else to do.

After about five minutes she'd settled down. She was still nestled in my arms, but it was just for comfort now, not helpless crying. I resettled my arms around her and kissed the top of her head, and she sniffled and wriggled a little closer, still holding my shirt with both hands. I moved my outside arm up, cradling her head against my chest.

Suddenly my arm was seized and thrown away from her. "Take your hands off her", a voice snarled.

I looked up - and up. Someone in a rage is not a pretty sight anyway. When he's 6'4" and the rage is directed at me I don't find it at all a comforting sight. I stood. Lots of options here, but all of them better if I was standing. "Is that the one?" I asked loudly. "The would-be rapist?"

Katie said, "Yes" and then "Michael, I told you to stay away from me."

"That's clear enough", I said. "Leave the lady alone." He threw a fairly good combination - a right jab, left uppercut, then a right roundhouse punch, all of which I fended away forearm to forearm. Then I ripped a punch straight into his solar plexus with my right. He doubled over, straightened again, then lumbered towards me, arms out to grab. Damn! I could have killed him with that blow if I'd angled it up just a little. I hadn't wanted to do that, and the best I had just short of killing him had barely slowed him. I tried again, side-kicked his knee, which stopped him, then his groin. He turned a little and caught the kick on his thigh, but it obviously hurt. I swivelled, hammering the heel of my palm into the side of his jaw, then stepped and smashed his nose with the side of my clenched fist as my hand returned. He staggered, and I punched his throat - not the killing crushing blow, but a straight-out punch. He staggered again, and I delivered another swivelling hammer-blow with the heel of my hand, this one to the temple. Again, a stunning blow to a vulnerable spot rather than the killer I could have made it. He stumbled and I kicked his feet out from under him. "Don't ever touch me again", I said, "and leave Katie alone. Bad enough you should try to rape her, but to keep on trying for another chance is unforgivable. I think you'll find that's what the courts will say too if it comes to it".

He lay on his back like a stranded beetle, gurgling helplessly, and then he passed out. I nudged him onto his side and into the coma position with my foot. "I'm sorry I had to do that, Katie," I said, "but with the size of him, once he attacked I had to end it quickly".

"Don't apologise on my behalf", she said. "He's just ensured I'll never cry for him again. I'm sorry I got you into this, though. I had no idea he'd act like that."

"Mmm", I said. "Anyway, it's unlikely he'll do it again in a hurry. I suspect that jaw's going to be extremely fragile for a while. He'd better develop a taste for soup and milkshakes." I went on: "We'd better report this to the police or campus security or whatever, just so we get our story on record. Otherwise he may come at me swinging a lawyer next time."

We did that. We rang from the Botany building office. They sent an ambulance and police. Later that afternoon we went down to the police office on campus, next to the campus security office. Easy enough since there was no action necessary - just a matter of putting something on record. I also asked about taking out an Apprehended Violence Order to forbid Michael coming near her. That turned out to be a simple enough process, and she'd complete it the next day.

I arranged to meet Katie in the afternoon, so she wouldn't be alone. Michael had brothers, and now that he'd been damaged they might want something entirely different, or at least additional, with her than had been the case.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I met Katie that afternoon, and we went home together. I went in with her to meet her parents and explain to them what had happened. She needed to lay it out for them: Michael had been a big part of her life for a long time, and her mother thought everything would blow over and they'd get back together again. Well, maybe it would - I didn't know, although it looked highly improbable. However, if her parents didn't get things straight, and her father insist on safety-first treatment, Katie thought it was likely her mother would help Michael against Katie's express wishes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I walked down to the train station on Thursday morning with Katie, and we travelled in together. I'd been curious about why she was regularly at university during the summer vacation, and I asked her.

"I've been doing this all through Uni." she said. "There are duplicate courses for some subjects during the vacations, and I've been doing them when I can. This course will complete my degree in just two years. I've been doing some education courses as well, by correspondence. I should be able to do my Honours year in science and complete my Education Diploma this year. I have to pay extra to do it this way, but with starting work two years earlier and two extra years of seniority, I'll be well ahead."

"That's pretty impressive", I said. "How old are you anyway?"

"I'll turn nineteen at the end of this month" she answered. "Australia Day - 26th January - is my birthday".

"That IS impressive", I responded. You'll still be nineteen when you qualify with a four-year degree and a year's worth of post-graduate diploma."

"Mmm", she said. "That's the plan anyway".

* * * * * * * * * * *

We lunched together at the Botany lawn again. Someone had hosed away the blood, and there was no sign of yesterday's fracas except some regulars looking at us curiously and whispering among themselves. Katie had excused herself from lectures and done the Apprehended Violence Order during the morning. Michael was in hospital, the police said, having his jaw wired and his nose set. They'd serve the order on him there that afternoon.

"Katie", I said somewhat diffidently.

"Jack", she responded, grinning.

"I'm at a bit of a loose end this weekend. The Brown's are going on a church camp, and I'm on my own. I was wondering if you'd like to do something - go out or something?"

"WHAT?" she said. "Go out? Like on a date?"

"Well, maybe not something quite so grand", I said. "It may be a trifle soon after your break-up to start giving things those sort of labels. I thought more like just two friends enjoying some time out together."

"It sounds lovely", she said. "I'd enjoy that. However, there's just one problem."

I raised my eyebrows at her. She started stamping her feet and said, "I WANT A DATE. If you don't give me a date I'm going to have a tantrum! I've just got rid of a lousy boyfriend and I WANT A DATE with someone I can respect. If you don't give me a date I'm going to lie on the ground and kick my heels and scream." She lay on the lawn, starting kicking her heels, and let out an experimental little mini-shriek. "Eek!" Then she said "Well?" in a meaningful tone of voice.

For some reason it just struck me as hilarious. Sure it was meant to be funny, but it wasn't THAT funny. Still, I couldn't help dissolving into helpless laughter. When I surfaced, she was looking at me with a ridiculously overplayed hurt expression. "I'm sorry", I said. I knelt on the lawn beside her and said "Darling Katie, I hunger and thirst for your company. Please pretty please will you afford me the honour of going on a date with you?"

She giggled. "Of course, silly. Several of them, in fact. I'll choose first. I'd like dinner and a night out tomorrow. Oh, this may be relevant: my parents are going on the same church camp the Browns are on, so I'm at a loose end for the weekend too."

My ears pricked up, and I made a mental note to drop in at the campus pharmacy between lectures, just on the off chance that I got lucky. My last condoms were still sitting unopened in their packet of twelve, well out of date and well out of reach. So were the ones before that, come to think of it; and I'd discarded the ones before that when I moved to the farm.

Back to the subject of dates. Not mine which were beginning to rise in my scrotum; but the preliminaries. "Okay," I said, "there's a place called "The Soup Kitchen". They're licensed to serve alcohol, they serve great soup and accessories; and they do an evening of live jazz and occasional blues. How does that sound?"

"It's not something I've done before", she said, "which makes it good. We'll stay in tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay", I said. "They don't take bookings. You can't spend too long there or you end up drinking too much. You can't arrive too late or there are no places. We need to get there about seven thirty or a bit earlier. Not enough time for a movie. How about we go to the Art Gallery until seven, and wander across then?"

She agreed, and I said, "right, that was your choice. All your choice. You noticed that, didn't you?" I grinned. "Now, Saturday. You said several dates, so Saturday maybe we could go on a ferry ride. It's been nearly ten years since I did this, but I was sort of planning it anyway, and they still run them. The big commuter ferries that go out of the harbour and travel the coast don't do commuting on the weekend. They do tours instead. We could get one and travel up to the Central Coast - way farther than they go on a normal day - then they'll pull into an inlet for lunch, then come back again. It's a lovely day out, and the weather forecast is right for it - sunny and calm seas."

Katie agreed to that, and I said "Now, Sunday. Well, I don't know about you, but I have to do some study over the weekend. I thought that maybe we could go to church in the morning if you wanted to, then study together. The Browns have a pool, so maybe we can swim for a while in the afternoon."

"Okay", she said. "Just one thing. We have a better pool than the Browns. Why don't you come across to my place to study and swim?" So we agreed, and that was the plan for the weekend.

Going home that evening, Katie was much more relaxed with me. She even deliberately duplicated her posture of the first afternoon, curling towards me and holding my arm with her head resting on my shoulder. "This is right, isn't it" she asked; and I answered "Seems right to me". She took my hand as we walked up from the station, and I kissed her lightly on the lips before I went inside.

* * * * * * * * * * *

On Friday morning I went to meet her at her home and, following her lead, I kissed her good morning. Her mother looked surprised and her father didn't, which told me some things about her family.

Things went steadily during the day. We became closer again at lunch. She was touching; taking my hand, caressing my face, spontaneously kissing me, all the things you'd expect in a long-established and loving couple. Extraordinary when we'd only met once ten years earlier with her as an eight-year-old, and then again last Monday. It all felt right though. I was being careful not to push, since that was where Michael got into trouble. However, I loved what was happening, and I was delighted to respond. She would never be a classical beauty, but I was becoming infatuated with my cute sexy little monkey. Did I say "my"? There, you see! Infatuated, and happy about it.

We'd agreed to bring something a little dressier to change into for the evening, so we showered and changed at the Student Union building. I'd brought slacks and a short-sleeved white linen shirt. She had brought the universal dress attire - a black cocktail dress. She looked stunning. I hadn't realised just how different she could look - I'd been concentrating on the person rather than the package. No attempt to hide her skin or even her fur. Bare legs - no hosiery, golden hair glinting in the light on her legs, her arms, a strip from her nape down her spine. Strangely, her pointy little face didn't have excess facial hair. I suddenly noticed her ears: they were somewhat slanted - almost pointed. Skin freckled and blotched - a golden-tan with an overlay of everything from standard freckles to coin-sized light tan patches. I guess there was nothing she could do except cower in hiding, or else flaunt it. I was happy to flaunt her with it. Stunning! She would be a smash at a science fiction convention, but as far as I was concerned she was a smash anyway.

"You are", I told her, "absolutely stunning. You look like why the riot started. I am so lucky to be with you".

She started crying. "You can't mean that", she said.

"I rarely say anything I don't mean", I responded. "I told you, first day, 'blond, freckled, cute, intelligent'. I also said I envied the man who won your heart. I meant it. Now shush. Don't interrupt. I'm working on something." I gathered her in my arms and kissed her thoroughly. She cried some more.

"You can't mean it" she sobbed. "I'm ugly. Everyone says I'm ugly. Michael always said no-one else would have me."

"Michael", I said, "has missed his chance. That's his loss. It's never a good idea to expect people to be grateful that you abuse them. I may just wait until his jaw heals and then go break it again though. You are NOT ugly. Your beauty is not a traditional sugar-sweet Barbie-doll conventional beauty, but it is quite startling beauty nevertheless. I am proud to be in your company, and if you pull your leaning-against-me-in-the-bus trick again, I will not any longer be able to avoid embarrassing myself."

She hiccoughed, and then giggled. "I wondered about that", she said. "I thought I might be noticing something, but then I thought it couldn't be."

"I had to work quite hard to make sure it wouldn't be", I said, "and all the same, it nearly was. If you do that again, when I've seen the way you look now, I'll probably have to rinse my trousers and wear them wet until they dry on me".

She looked at me, wide-eyed, and then said "Oh, Jack, you say the nicest things." Then she giggled again. "I think I'll wriggle against you from time to time though."

"Now would be a good time", I said, turning her slightly so she could feel my erection poking into her belly. "Now, just what do you mean by wriggle?"

She giggled again, and then put her arms round my neck and slid up till she was kissing me. She opened that wide mouth of hers and sucked my tongue into her mouth, then started moving rhythmically against me as we French kissed. I really was right on the verge - she'd affected me extraordinarily. I had one arm around her shoulders, cradling her head to mine. I moved the other down and cupped her buttocks, pressing her crotch to mine and stopping the movement that had me on the verge of creaming my pants.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After a couple of minutes I broke the clinch, and said, "We'd better go before I come."

We caught the bus down town, left our bags in a locker at the railway station nearest to "The Soup Kitchen", and then walked across to the Art Gallery and spent almost two hours wandering around, holding hands, talking, and kissing occasionally. Then we walked back to the Soup Kitchen, had dinner, and caught the show. Live jazz gained a new fan, but the real action was in the breaks. We drank quite a bit, relaxed quite a bit, and she got quite giggly.

In one of the breaks, she let me know her deep dark secret. I was about to say something, and I started "Katie..."

"That's not really my name, you know", she said.

"Unhh?"

"No. That's my second name. Not even Katherine, but Katie. My parents were second-generation hippies. Grandma and Granddad were flower children - hippies during the early sixties. Dad went over to travel in Canada and the States in the mid-eighties, and he met Mum in Canada. They travelled around for over a year. They're quite different now, but as far as I can make out, back then they were on a single-couple crusade to recreate the swinging sixties. I'm probably lucky to be able to identify my mother, let alone my father. Those were the last years when sexual license was apparently safe. They ended when the big bad plague - the incurable one - genital herpes - came on the scene. AIDS was almost unheard of - only a minor infection in some gays in San Francisco, not even widely identified as an epidemic."

"Anyway," she continued, "They were very into the concept of non-traditional but meaningful names. You remember all those 'Leafs' and 'Rivers' and stuff? Well, I was conceived, according to my father, 'in a drift of scarlet and gold autumn leaves on the bank of a river in a National Forest, as the first snowflakes of the year drifted down'. Anyway, he says, it must have been then because they got busted for pot just after, and didn't get out for a week. Very poetic. I'm amazed he can even remember any facts - and the ones he does remember he's got mixed up. Maybe it was doing without pot for a week that made such an impression."

"They hadn't improved any nine months later", she continued. "When I was born, they couldn't decide what to call me. Too many things that day. That month too, I guess. Or year - one per month might have been too many - you'd never know it to look at them now. Anyway, I might have been Leaf or Scarlet or Gold or Crimson or Snowflake. Snowflake's a name for a Persian cat, isn't it? Might have been Woodsmoke, or even Would Smoke, I suppose - or Mary Jane. I probably should be grateful I wasn't called Busted or Arrest or Miss Demeanour. Or Alligator. Probably. They got the seasons and the places totally mixed up. What they eventually decided to do, in a pot-fuelled fug, was to name me after the river. A river anyway. A river in Florida, so help me. I think it's a long time since there was a snowfall there."

"Oh?" I said interrogatively.

"I can't imagine why I started to tell you this", she said. "I've always been embarrassed - too worried at what might happen to let anyone know. I didn't even tell Michael."

"Good instincts", I said. "You can trust me though. Honest you can. Really! Go on, tell!"

She blushed. "They named me after the Kissimee River".

"Your first name is Kissimee?" I asked. She nodded. "Kissimee Katie Keogh? KKK? What were they thinking of?"

"I told you", she said, "they were higher than a kite. All day, every day, years on end. No thought of me at all. Dad says they'd run into some of the Ku Klux Klan's work around the States, and they hated it. He thinks they probably decided to turn it around. To make KKK a symbol of love rather than hatred and hatefulness. Mind you, he's not real sure what they were thinking that day. I should probably be grateful anyway. So far as I can make out he meant the Kiskiminetas River in Pennsylvania. Wouldn't that have been a Hell of a name?"

"Well, okay, it's a symbol of love now then" I said. "Just the same, it's a heavy cross... a flaming heavy cross for a young girl to bear." I paused, then rubbed my hands together and cackled evilly. "Katie... Kissimee, Kissy, I'm so glad you decided to trust me with this. This is marvellous! A lifetime of blackmail in one word. Now I can have my wicked way with you any time I want", I said, leaning into her and nuzzling her neck".

"You were getting there anyway", she said, raising her chin to give me better access.

After the show we went home. No one was waiting for us, of course, so I invited her in for a nightcap. I made up chocolate with brandy for us both, with a glass of liqueur muscat on the side; and served them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. We settled down side-by-side, and I put my arm around her, gently stroking her arm. We sipped our drinks, sometimes kissing, and occasionally I'd give her an emphatic hug. With our drinks finished, I moved into a passionate embrace and deep kiss, hands roaming freely. Then I rolled off the couch, landing on my knees in front of her. I kissed her deeply again, pressing towards her, and her legs parted, allowing me closer. I moved my hands down her back to her buttocks and pulled her closer, so we were locked body to body, both fully aware of the other's sexual reaction. I kissed her deeply again, then broke the kiss and leaned back a little to look her in the eyes.

"Darling", I said, "the Browns have told me to use this place as my own. With that in mind, where do you want to sleep tonight?"

"Jack, please understand", she responded. "I think I love you, but I'm not ready to sleep with you yet."

"I can understand that", I answered. "I may be a mad impetuous fool, but I DO love you. That being the case, I'm NOT going to ruin things by trying to push too hard. That's why I phrased the question that way. I'd love to sleep with you, but if I can't do that yet I'd love to sleep next to you - or next door to you. You and I can each sleep in an empty lonely house. That's not a good idea after our run-in with Michael. You know the Brown's daughter has moved to Melbourne, and her room is vacant. We're going out early tomorrow. You can sleep in her room tonight, and then we can have breakfast together and leave from here. Just go home and collect your things, check for any messages, then come back here. I know I'd sleep better with you near me than if you were away from me - even just in the next house."

That's the way we arranged it.

The next morning, I knocked on her door. Getting no response I went in. She was still sound asleep. She was wearing a light sleeveless nightgown in a translucent silky autumn-gold fabric: raw silk a darker shade of her skin colour. She slept under a sheet, pushed down to her waist. Just beautiful. Her complexion and her "fur" showed clearly in the early-morning sunshine. She looked like some sort of exotic cat, with mottled tan-and-gold markings, or a cute sexy monkey. In passing, I'll mention that I may have maligned the fur of which I spoke. While way more than the body hair most people have, it didn't stand out at first glance. It was a fine silky texture and the same dirty-blonde colour as the hair on her head, blending into her skin, which you could see clearly through the hair. While it formed a distinct covering rather than individual hairs, it wasn't obtrusive. Like stroking a half-grown mouse. It didn't extend to her face: her eyelashes were long and plentiful, but her eyebrows were thin and light, and she had no other facial hair.

"Katie", I said. No response. "Darling". She smiled in her sleep. "Darling Kissy. Kissy darling". She gave a little murmur, settled down and smiled again. I leaned over and gently shook her shoulder. She gave a little disappointed-sounding grunt and opened her eyes. I said "Kissy darling, it's time to wake up." She focused on me, smiled again, then reached up, pulling me down to her open lips. I knelt beside the bed as we kissed. She rolled towards me, arms around my neck, and I embraced her.

Interesting! At her back her nightgown had ridden right up to her shoulder blades, and I was embracing her bare back. I stroked her as we kissed, running my hand down the strip of longer hair along her spine, then caressing her buttocks and the back of her thighs. I moved my hands back up and cradled her jaw as we kissed, then slid my hands down to caress her breasts under her silky nightgown. I thumbed her erect nipples through the fabric and squeezed them lightly, then started kissing my way downward. I kissed the inner sides of her breasts through her plunging neckline, then eased the fabric aside to kiss one nipple as I massaged the other. I slipped the straps off her shoulders, totally baring her breasts, and changed sides, kissing, nibbling and sucking the other nipple while massaging the first; then switched back again. Interesting pattern: aureolae and nipples were free of hair, and the breasts almost so, but surrounded by the light fur covering her body. The aureolae and nipples were proudly erect: dusky pink cone on cone on the low mounds of her breasts. An errant thought came to me: if you dropped her face down in a field of ripe wheat or dry grass you'd need to find her by Braille. The skin colour was close to a match, just a darker shade to hint at shadows, and the pattern would break up any outline. Face up, of course, the tits would be a bit of a give-away.

Kissy was softly moaning and murmuring now, obviously caught up in the sensation. However, I wanted more than just quick sex. I moved back to cradle her jaw with one hand, kissing her mouth again. With the other, I delved below the sheet. Her nightgown had ridden up in front as well, above her groin, and I stroked my knuckle along her slit, slipping between her hot wet folds.

I withdrew my hand and licked the knuckle. "Mmm", I said. "Darling, though we could make love, and I want to make love to you, we did say that we'd go out today. I do NOT want to start any part of our relationship by going back on what I've said. I think we should get dressed now and go on our cruise, then take matters up again when we get home." I stood and pulled her to her feet. The nightgown slid to the floor, we hugged again, and then with enormous self-control I left her to dress.

We showered and dressed, breakfasted together, then caught the train in. We could have driven but it was almost as fast by train, and we didn't have to worry about city parking.

Some theories would say I shouldn't have risked hurting her: that I should have followed through when she was willing to have sex. However, I'd just felt it unwise. After all, I'd been making the moves, and she'd had Michael making moves on her just a week ago. I didn't want to risk her feeling that way, or even evoking memories of then. In any case, she certainly wasn't upset. From the time she took my arm as we walked to the train, she was closer to me, more open to me than ever before. Her whole physical stance was more open. She had been a little withdrawn, closed, defensive. Now the difference showed. She was entirely open, free, standing straight and relaxed, or enfolding me completely as she hugged me: soft and giving, no holding back.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Kissy normally wore khaki shorts and shirt or a white blouse to university. These would blend with her coloration and visually wash it out, making her unique appearance less obvious. Today, perhaps because of my enthusiasm over her appearance in the black cocktail dress last night, she dressed differently. She wore a short sleeveless white satin sundress. It was cut low in front and back, and the skirt fell about three inches above her knees. The back was low enough to show plainly that she was bra-less and had no suntan lines, and the front low and loose enough to hint at all kinds of things without quite showing them to casual gaze. To partner it, she wore open black sandals with a one-inch heel and spaghetti straps up her ankles, a dark oxidised-copper chain belt, and a black criss-cross choker around her neck. Total knockout! Looked like I was squiring around a visitor from another planet. A very sexy one.

The day out was fun - in a harrowing kind of way. The sea was calm, the weather was sunny with scattered cloud to cut the glare, and there was a gentle breeze so it wasn't too hot. Couldn't have wished it better if I'd ordered it. Kissy displayed another cat-like quality. You know how a cat can have times when they're all over you - extremely affectionate - and then later settle down beside you - with you but not too close? Well, she was like that. She made sure those close times were interesting too. She'd settle her sexy little backside crosswise on my lap, making sure she'd flipped her skirt out of the way first so that it hung down rather than being trapped between her and me. Then, with her nether depths separated from my raging hard-on only by the dubious protection of my Dockers and her silky and extremely scanty panties, she'd wriggle. She'd involve me in a deep French kiss, and then she'd grind herself on my lap. Then take my free hand and run it up her thighs and under her skirt.

She used that loose bra-less top on me too. It may only have hinted to the casual observer, but I was a good deal closer than casual, and I could see straight down the front to her erect nipples. A couple of times she even slipped one strap off her shoulder, creating enough extra play for her to introduce my hand through the armhole to play with her breast while she was doing her bump-and-grind lap dance. It was a good thing the scattered clouds were cutting the external temperature, or I would have gone incendiary. I know I came damned close to exploding a number of times. Particularly when she slipped her hand down the front of my trousers, hidden between her body and mine as she sat sideways on my lap, and clasped my erection. Nothing else - just held it wrapped in her warm hand, and held it perfectly still. Except for occasionally brushing her thumb across the eye, or massaging my slippery pre-ejaculate in circles with her thumb to cover the head. Arghhh!

The whole day was a kind of madness - totally out of character for us both. She was freed from five years of psychological domination and being put-down. She was with someone who valued her as a person and as a sexual being, and had acted as her saviour. I'd had five years of loneliness, a prior five years of being used and knowing it, and five years before that of being used without knowing it at the time. Now I was enjoying myself with someone by whom I was enthralled and who liked me. Someone intelligent; and someone whom I thought must be the most all-out beautiful and sexy female in known space.

We did enjoy the cruise as well. The sunshine and breeze, the gentle swell, the scenery, the fully catered gourmet lunch, occasional drinks from the bar. A great day. It was late twilight as we returned to harbour and full dark by the time that we caught the train home. It must have been a slack time between people going to evening activities, and the first of them returning. Our carriage was empty other than ourselves. Kissy sat on my lap and dropped both straps of her dress off her shoulders, letting them slide to her elbows. The top of the dress dropped, exposing almost her entire upper body. She could shrug it back on in a second, but for now she was naked to the waist, and she pulled my hands to her breasts. I massaged them and worked her nipples, thumbing them, squeezing and gently manipulating. I nuzzled her neck, kissing, licking and occasionally gently biting. Finally I got into her panties, rubbing her slit and clit, frigging her with my finger while I thumbed her clit. She was as creamy and slippery - and nearly as sweet - as melted ice cream. I wasn't going to try to bring her off - we obviously had all night for that. However, she got quite worked up. At one stage someone entered our carriage from the rear entrance. We held still, ready to set matters to rights; but they went upstairs where we were down. The action got extremely hot with them just feet from us, although separated by the floor of the upstairs compartment. They got out a couple of stops later, and when they got a jaw-dropped glimpse of Kissy after the doors had closed and the train was pulling out we both went into hysterics.

As I said, a kind of sweet madness, and totally out of character. By the time we reached our station I had her panties in my pocket and she'd climaxed twice from my fingers. We held back to let the other passengers go up the stairs first; then went up ourselves. As we walked home we had an arm around each other, hands resting on the other's buttock. She with her thumb hooked into the back pocket of my Dockers, I with her dress hitched up and fondling her bare cheek.

We went in to Number 56, and I seized her and kicked the door shut with my heel. We embraced and kissed passionately, then I swept her up in my arms and carried her into my room, which had a double bed. I set her down and she continued right down to the floor, sinking to sit cross-legged, undo my laces then remove my shoes and socks. She rose smoothly to her feet again, giving me a clue as to how she'd managed to resist Michael's attempts. To rise in a single continuous movement like that from that position was something I would not have believed possible. It showed extraordinary strength and flexibility.

She started undoing my shirt buttons, kissing down my chest as she did. She pushed my shirt off my shoulders and I shrugged out of it, leaving it hanging from my waist. She was now on her knees, and unfastened my belt, buttons and zip. My shirt dropped behind me, and she slipped my trousers and underpants to the floor, lifting each foot to remove them. Rising again, she stepped around me and turned me to face her, the bed against her knees. Straight-legged she bent right over to loose the straps on her sandals and stepped out of them. She unhooked her chain belt, letting it drop to the floor, then skinned her white satin dress off over her head, leaving her naked but for the black criss-cross choker around her neck. She sank to the bed, propping her body up with her elbows.

Kissy smiled that wide-mouthed smile at me and let me look. I wholeheartedly admired her. Small build but bigger joints than normal, pronounced long muscles, a small package to hold that much power. Deep golden tan base skin colour, heavily mottled and speckled by a darker tan. All except her breasts and her head covered by a light silky golden fur, very thin hairs perhaps a half-inch long closely spaced. Very little appreciable difference in her pubic area - there was no need - fur was fur. You could see through her fur to the skin everywhere, including her small protruding labia.

I stood for a moment breathless, then said, "Be still, my heart! All that for me?"

She grinned at me again, licked her lips with an extraordinarily long tongue, then spread her legs. "Well, Louis Wu", she said, "shall we do rishathra?"

I cast my eyes skyward for a moment and said "Dear Lord, thank you. It's not possible that your humble servant COULD earn this, but thank you anyway. All this, and she's a Larry Niven fan too."

* * * * * * * * * * *

I stepped to the edge of the bed, leant forward and cupped her head in my hands, then we kissed deeply. She pulled me towards her, and I ended up on hands and knees, kneeling between her thighs. She wrapped herself round me, locked her legs across my waist, and rubbed her slick and slippery slit along my erection. She squirmed there, relaxed, re-positioned. She worked the head of my penis along and between and then into her labia, spreading our natural lubricant, then started squeezing her legs. My erection started into her vagina, stretching her hymen, then she relaxed and we slid apart a couple of centimetres. She tightened her thighs and pulled herself a little higher, gaining another centimetre. I wasn't doing a thing - she was fucking me - from underneath - holding herself suspended by arms and legs from my body. I kissed her deeply. I penetrated her mouth as she enfolded my penis with her vagina, a centimetre at a time, up and down, in and out. After a while we'd gone as far as we could while still leaving her technically a virgin. I called time out, then lowered us so she was again resting on the bed, then I pressed in firmly. I felt her set herself then she pulled up towards me and I pushed towards her, and her virginity was a matter of history and two inches gone.

We kissed again, resting there. Despite her resolve, tears had leaked from her eyes, and I kissed and licked them away. I pulled out and pushed in, just moving at first without actually sliding. Gradually we worked up to real movement again, talking as we went. Perhaps surprisingly, our love talk was the biggest part of our lovemaking. As we talked and moved gently, moved gently and talked, I had something to think about other than the fact that I was buried in her hot, moist sheath. I managed to hold on and carry her to several small, gentle but building orgasms. She'd shiver, grunt, go silent and freeze for a few seconds, then we'd continue. We weren't engaged by the time I came, but we were definitely emotionally bonded. By the time we built to our ultimate climax we were totally involved, body and mind, sensations and emotions. At last I couldn't hold out any longer. I was stroking almost full-length, seven inches in-and-out, then I erupted into her, took one more full-length thrust hard into her as far as I could get, and froze, pumping her full. Fortunately I had her simmering right along, and the feel of that pulled her over the crest and into the big one herself.

We snuggled together. I did the arch-typical male thing and fell asleep, but she beat me to it. We woke an hour later and repeated the prescription, to our great mutual satisfaction. However, she was too sore for a repeat dose when we woke in the morning. We did go to her church that morning, with a great deal to be thankful for. The congregation numbers were way down though because most people were at the church camp.

* * * * * * * * * * *

We spent the day more or less as we'd planned, studying and swimming. She was still sore, but gentle kissing and caressing brought her to the stage where she just didn't care anyway, and we made enthusiastic love again before the Browns and her parents returned from the church camp.

We spent the next week together as much as possible. We even made love in her lab in the Botany building one evening. Her father seemed to appreciate what was going on, and took her mother out for a romantic weekend in town, complete with stay at a top-notch hotel on Friday and Saturday nights, for which all involved were most appreciative. I returned home on Sunday afternoon, with arrangements made for her to spend her birthday - Australia Day, and the following weekend - visiting me at "Ballindean".

* * * * * * * * * * *

That's basically the way we spent the year. She studied furiously, visited me for occasional weekends, and I also came down to visit her. She had a serious talk with her ex-retro-hippie parents, then moved into the larger "spare room" with a queen-sized bed I bought for us. That's where I slept when I visited. We announced our engagement on the mid-year winter long-weekend. She had by then had another run-in with Michael. He ignored the order against him and approached her. She called a nearby policeman and Michael tried to quieten her. Apparently he thought he could handle her and the police officer. He'd must have forgotten that coppers travel in pairs. He ended up doing time for assault, assaulting police, hindering police in the execution of their duty, and ignoring the court order. Idiot!

Kissy also spent her time while visiting me, building contacts. I already had all the contacts because of my casual fill-in teaching work. We expanded that to include her, and there were two nearby towns - within commuting distance - who would need a science teacher when she'd be available, and another who'd need maternity-leave fill-in. My local town would need a science teacher in three years, when the long-standing subject master retired.

We lived together for a year after her final exams, then married just two years after we'd met.

I'm not yet convinced that she's not an alien visiting us - or visited upon us - though. Look around, and you'll see a lot more of them than you'd expect. Girls who are skinny to rangy, not tall, big joints, long muscles, heavily freckled, dirty-blonde or muddy-blonde or muddy-ginger hair. Guys who are the same basic coloration, maybe tending towards ginger hair, but the guys are short and square. Still deceptively strong - in fact enormously strong - for their size. You'd expect it of the girls, but no one with the guy's square build ought to be able to pull up breathing easily after a one-mile - or three-mile - run. But they can.

Well, we can interbreed anyway. She and I have had a son and two daughters. And I love her most dearly. My darling Kissy.

* * * * * * * * * * *

All material is copyright of the author, © 2004-2006 Aidan McGill, and may not be reproduced in any form without prior written permission. Individuals are hereby granted permission to use one copy for private reading, not-for-distribution and not-for-profit.

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