"Tales of the Lorelei" by virgosun
(c) March 2004
Part 2
====================================
"Hey!"

I was busy refilling the squeegee buckets and watering 
cans dotted about the service area, and glanced up 
rather dopily to see who was calling out. Kieran had his 
bike parked by the air hose; he had been busy inflating 
his tyres when I'd first noticed him.

"Yeah, you, don't stand there gawping, c'mere!"

I walked over coolly. Kieran had never had much to say 
to me before, but given the events of last weekend, 
perhaps that had changed now. He stood with a hand on 
his hip, looking down at me with a half-smile. He's a 
dark-haired version of Sean, older and craggier, with a 
permanent five-day stubble; a reputation for being a 
tearaway and a rough tongue. Yes, he used to scare me a 
bit when I was younger; now I just dismissed him as a 
meatheaded tradesman who liked painting boobsy women on 
streetcars.

"Listen," he said, "I'm not big on speeches or manners, 
but you oughtta know, I owe you one. You kind of saved 
my little brother's life back there, they could have 
been washed off the rocks if you hadn't known where we 
could find them."

"No problem," I said, as though I pulled stranded 
rockhoppers to safety every other weekend. Really, I 
wanted to put the whole episode behind me.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to, like, give you something as a 
mark of gratitude. Only thing I do well is paint, so 
maybe I could do you a painting or something?"

I couldn't help but give a laugh. "Oh, like what, some 
spreadeagled double-D cup babe, yeah right. Not actually 
my cup of tea. Thanks anyway."

He glowered. "Oh hey, all right, I enjoy my work and I 
paint naked tits all day, isn't that fair enough? But I 
can paint other things too. You haven't seen half of 
what I can do."

"Sure." Kieran was a legend of past graduating years at 
the high school, because he was expelled before 
graduating. Amidst his many misdemeanours had been the 
furore he had caused in the Art class. The theme he had 
chosen to confront and explore with his major work for 
the year had been teenage sexuality, and the images he 
had presented were loudly denounced by the senior school 
staff as pornography, not art. Of course, _everybody_ 
amidst the students had wanted to see his works, which 
had been confiscated or banned from the school. Even 
though five classes had graduated since then, Sean was 
still pestered by some for samples of his brother's 
infamous work.

He shook his head and made a frustrated sound. "Right, 
that's what I get for being nice, you're just like all 
the rest of them! But before you go looking down your 
nose at me, Miss Manners, I know your dirty little 
secret!" A flinty glitter came into his piercing eyes as 
he glared at me, and I flushed in spite of myself.

"What dirty little secret?"

Kieran grinned and folded his arms. "That cave of yours. 
I showed Sean how to get out to that point ages ago, but 
I never knew that cave was there. I sent him out there 
so he could have privacy, which I had when _I_ used to 
go out there. So much for privacy! Did you notice him 
and Cathy had a bit of a falling-out this week, a tiff? 
Yeah, it'll pass and they'll get it back together 
because they're absolutely stupid for each other, but he 
was a bit pissed off when she coughed as to how she knew 
the cave was there. You dirty little peeping tom!"

Late in the week Sean had stopped talking to me, 
favouring me rather red-faced and sullen glares instead. 
I thought he was having some kind of post-traumatic 
reaction. Beet-faced, I had nothing sassy to say to 
Kieran, who grinned a dark and wolfish triumph. "So 
don't lecture me about porn! Come over to our dig and 
have a look through some of my sketch files, and you can 
choose a pic I'll make up as a full painting...who 
knows, it might actually be worth something some day. 
And don't worry, I'll put away the rude ones so you 
don't see anything that might corrupt your maidenly 
eyes! Friggerty-dig..." He pulled on his helmet and 
threw a leg over his bike, saying nothing more and 
leaving me to stew in my own juices.

***

"You told him about my cave!"

"I had to!"

It was not the most memorable of weeks. Cathy and I fell 
out, Sean continued with the understandable silent 
treatment, and Mitch kept putting the word on for 
another date. Lyn and Russ were breaking up painfully 
after years of being together. Renton was the only thing 
remotely like company, and the pair of us ended up being 
shoulders for Lyn to cry on when she wasn't moping to 
Cathy.

By the next Saturday I was fed up, and ready to make fun 
of my own. I phoned Lyn and Renton and we all hooked up 
at the movies. Mitch tried to corner me at The Malt 
Shoppe afterwards. "I thought you liked my boat," he 
coaxed.

"Actually, Renton's going to show me his boat tomorrow, 
so we'll have to take a raincheck, Mitch. Sorry," I said 
sweetly. Renton almost choked on his malted, then put 
his head in the air and agreed. We'd made no such 
arrangement, but I needed the first excuse I could make 
up.

"Yeah, yeah, we're gonna check the Bar for flathead." 
Now, everybody knows Mitch has the real boat and Renton 
a tinny, but Mitch and I weren't talking about maritime 
equipment. He smiled and gave a deep, slow nod.

"So you've heard the rumours about his boat then," he 
purred almost snidely. "Looks like the best man won. 
I'll see you later, then."

When he had gone I puffed a great sigh of relief. "What 
rumours?" Lyn piped up. Renton was blushing as red as 
his hair. 

"Oh don't take any notice of him, Lyn, he's a nong." 
Then he looked hopefully at me. "Tell me you're serious 
about tomorrow?"

I shrugged--I really had nothing better to do. "The 
flathead had better be worth it. Come on, let's go round 
to Goaty's Bridge and watch the tourist kids falling off 
their rental sailboards--I need a laugh!"

We went to the Pier and nicked some beer from my 
brother's fridge at the baitshop he runs, headed for the 
bridge by the caravan park to giggle, then back down to 
the town beach to walk, and watch the sun set. Renton 
pointed out to sea, and we watched Sean and Kieran 
surfing, the late sun glistening on their wet steamers 
and the spray bursting around them. We greeted fellow 
classies, also strolling or fishing, then sat for a 
while and drank the last of the beer, greeting others 
who strolled past us.

A familiar figure emerged from the surf further up the 
beach, clad in black racers, with a lithe, loose-limbed 
gait. "Oh god no, quick!" I groaned. Lyn had seen him 
too, and I met her gaze, then glanced at Renton. "Time 
for emergency evasive action!"  Of course I wouldn't 
have done it if I hadn't been tipsy. I grabbed his 
shoulders and pressed my lips against his cheek, hiding 
my face in his hair. Lyn squealed and giggled delight, 
then joined the fun.

Poor Renton. "Wha - whoah!" he gasped under the twofold 
assault, tipping over backward, arms pedalling. He'd 
always been so gentlemanly toward us, and here we were 
jumping all over him.

"Nibble his earlobes!" Lyn giggled. "There's two of 
them, we can share!"

"Cut it out! I'm ticklish!" he gasped, batting feebly at 
us. Which only urged us on. I sucked his earlobe between 
my lips and mercilessly jabbed at his ribs as he 
wriggled and writhed in helpless agony in the sand. Lyn, 
who is tiny at five-one, threw herself atop him in an 
effort to hold him down.

"What else has he got two of? I know! Nipples!" I cried, 
and he wailed.

"Aww, no, no!"

I backed off the rib-tickling so he'd not struggle so 
much, focusing on that soft pink oval. In the gentler 
sun of late afternoon he had left his shirt off. I'd 
never looked so closely at a man's nipple before, and 
was immediately taken with the strong bronze curls of 
hair that sprang from around it. Renton wasn't Mr Pecs, 
but he was sprouting proper chest hair that highlighted 
his man-shape.

Then I pressed my parted lips to that sweet, bare oval 
of skin, squeezing the firm nubbin that had emerged at 
its centre. It was only natural to feel it with the tip 
of my tongue, and it grew firmer still, a sweet and sexy 
treat.

Renton had stopped struggling. I opened my eyes, still 
gently nibbling with my lips. I was looking across his 
chest at Lyn, who wasn't kissing the other nipple, but 
doing something even sexier. Her mouth was open, her 
tongue a long, lithe probe that was swirling around and 
around his areola, sometimes flicking over the taut 
nipple. Then we both looked up at Renton, whose eyes 
were wide with wonder. He lay very still now, and had 
laid a hand very gently upon both our upper backs. I was 
laying on the sand beside him, and Lyn was sitting atop 
him perilously close to his lap.

It was she who broke the spell. "I, uh, better get 
going," she said quickly and hopped up, so we all 
disengaged, scrambling to our feet. I looked for that 
telltale bulge, but his shorts seemed all in order. "Um, 
I'll see you guys later, bye!" said Lyn, running off 
with a giggle and a wave.

"Oh, man," he groaned. "I hope we...she's not upset or 
something."

"That probably went a little bit too far," I agreed, my 
own blush firing up over the heat in my face already 
from the alcohol. "She, er..."

"Too soon after that business with Russ?"

"She, um...I think sexy stuff freaks her out." Far 
better to talk about Lyn's sad sex life rather than the 
thumping that had started between my legs! "She and Russ 
went, you know, all the way and it didn't...she didn't 
like it much, so I think anything like making out's 
gonna freak her."

"Is that why they broke up?"

"Pretty much." I glanced around. Mitch had disappeared, 
and so had the sun. Then I glanced up at Renton. "Look, 
I'd better get going too."

"Me too," he agreed. "Um...tomorrow, then?"

"Sure, if you still respect me in the morning," I joked 
lamely.

His smile was one of relief. "Great. See you, then."

***

What a pleasant difference to meeting Mitch at his boat! 
Renton pulled alongside at my brother's wharf in his 
tinny, with no pretensions, and we set off with nothing 
but fishing in mind. He knew a good place on a calm and 
secluded part of the lagoon, and we perched side-by-side 
on the centre seat and fished with handlines out either 
side of the boat. And caught some very reasonable fish. 
It was almost disappointing to have to return home 
early, for I had another appointment to keep in the 
afternoon.

I'd had a surprise phonecall the previous evening. Given 
the silent treatment I'd been receiving, I was 
gobsmacked when the caller turned out to be Sean. And 
then I'd been on the line to Cathy for ages after that. 
Renton was, as ever, the sympathetic ear. "He said he 
owed me an apology for being a heel, especially as it 
was me that saved their skins that day, and invited me 
over to his place for dinner. Cathy's going too, so 
we're all hoping we can patch things up."

"I still don't understand why you guys all got the shits 
with each other, post-traumatic stress or something?" I 
certainly wasn't about to tell Renton that much of what 
happened. He smiled and picked up the fattest fish he 
had caught, and popped it into my bucket. "Here, add 
this to dinner, fresh flattie. I got enough as is, go 
ahead."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "That's very kind of you, 
Renton. I'll tell them it's from you." We were still 
sitting close. I wasn't tipsy this time, and planted a 
gentle, sisterly kiss on his cheek for gratitude.

He had wanted to respond in kind, but missed the cue and 
reacted more slowly, turning his face toward mine as I 
pulled back. His nose glided past mine, our faces very 
close and warm. We both hesitated; and then, very 
gently, our lips met. 

It was the most romantic moment I had ever known. We sat 
there for a moment, just feeling the gentlest motion of 
our lips together, only slightly parted. There was no 
barging, wrestling tongues, just a sweet, lingering 
warmth. It was friendship and fondness, more than 
casual, but not passionate or demanding, only hinting at 
other possibilities. And after a moment, we drew apart, 
and he cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Um...I, er, never ever thought I'd get to do 
that."

"Why the hell did I ever bother with Mitch?"

He was blushing furiously. "Jo, I, er, need to 
know...how you feel about me." We were still sitting 
together, leaning slightly into each other, but we 
weren't holding hands. He was knotting his big bony 
fingers together. "After, um, yesterday on the beach. 
See, I've been afraid of this moment, you know, because 
I'd have to make a choice and I wouldn't want to hurt 
anyone."

Was that a splash of rain on the warm fuzzy sunshine of 
my heart? "Um, well, we were kind of pissed yesterday 
and it all got a bit naughty. I'd never really...thought 
of you as anything more than a really good friend, but 
maybe..." I shrugged. There had been a time when he was 
the last person I'd have wanted to make out with. "Maybe 
I'm wrong. Where are you on this one?"

He nodded. "I never thought you'd so much as look my 
way, and I was happy just to be second-place behind 
Mitch; then when that went wrong...But in getting to 
know you, and hanging out with you, I've gotten to know 
Lyn too, and she is such a wonderful girl! I want to 
give her the space to sort herself out with Russ, but in 
the meantime..."

My heart had stopped its silly little-girl cartwheeling. 
"You want to keep your options open," I said with a 
sigh.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," he insisted 
earnestly.

I had straightened up in my seat. "Renton," I said 
magnanimously, "we don't have to rush any of this. 
You're a great guy, and we've become good friends. 
You're going to have to be patient if you want to win 
Lyn over, and after Russ she needs a sensitive, caring 
friend like you." I glanced down at the his fish bucket. 
"I, er, I like you, and you like me, but sometimes 
you're more like my brother than my lover, do you get 
what I mean? Whereas...I think you love Lyn already, I 
mean _really_ love her. Why don't you take her the rest 
of those fish? Go and grill them together at Mopoke 
Reserve and have your own little dinner tonight?"

He grinned. "Thank you, Jo. This is what friendship is 
all about, isn't it?" This time he just kissed my cheek, 
then went forward to pull up the anchor.

***

The rest of the afternoon passed in a daze. I cleaned my 
catch, wondering numbly at what had transpired. Had 
karma come to get me, my initial revulsion at going out 
with Renton coming back to bite me? He'd been second-
best to me, now I was second-best to Lyn. Our um-
friendship looked destined to limp along in no-one's 
land, lost between pure platonic friendship and romantic 
yearning. That's no good place to get stuck.

At last I trudged off to the service station, where 
Cathy's brother would pick me up before dropping us both 
off at Sean's. At least if she and I could patch things 
up, I'd have somebody else to confide in.

After that strange, glowing but tainted morning, the 
evening didn't look especially promising. Sean and 
Kieran live at the edge of the town's light industrial 
area, in a dull vale through which a mangrove-choked 
creek oozes. Their father's a merchant seaman who's 
always away, and their mother shot through years ago, so 
they've always been self-sufficient, Kieran particularly 
so as the elder. He has a workshop kitted out for his 
designer spraypainting work, a great iron shed, and the 
house is a cottage that sits like a slightly-crumpled 
old box to one side. I remember paddling up this creek 
in a kayak when I was ten and being a "great explorer". 
The workshop wasn't there then; I had gone as far up 
this mysterious, gloomy stream as I could, for it was 
barely wide enough to allow me to turn around. There was 
a half-rotten, wonky little timber jetty there; an old, 
lichen-crusted tyre dangled from a rotten-looking tree 
bough; the spooky place looked a hundred years old and 
lost in time. Just as I turned my kayak around, a wild-
looking half-naked youth had sprung up from behind the 
dock, brandishing a cat's skull nailed to a stick and 
throwing rocks at me. His jeans and pale body were 
streaked with black mud, dark hair an unkempt halo - 
needless to say, he scared the hell out of me and my 
kayak pretty much skipped over the water, I paddled so 
fast to get out of there! Nor did I go back. That was 
the first time I'd met Kieran.

So the prospect of dinner at Sean's didn't fill me with 
joy. Cathy was rather more at ease, chatting back and 
forth with her brother. She knew the place and Kieran 
spooked me, and why. "He's really not as bad as he 
seems," she smiled. "He's not often there anyhow, he's 
either in the workshop or away - but I tell you, it's 
good if he is there, because he's a fantastic cook!"

"Hmm, I'll take your word for it."

The Industrial Estate roadsign loomed up from the dusk 
in the headlights. Oh, charming, what a place to be 
going for dinner! All I could see of the cottage as we 
arrived was a small yellow-lit window beneath gloomy 
treetops. Cathy hopped out of the car happily, and her 
brother tooted cheerfully as he drove off. I dragged my 
feet somewhat, but didn't want to get too far behind. 
Something jingled nearby in the semidarkness; then a 
door opened, and I saw Sean's familiar outline against a 
cosily lit background.

"Hey, guys!" He sounded delighted to see us, and shared 
a chaste peck with Cathy. "Come in, come in, thanks for 
dropping by!" The jingle hopped up the steps and 
indoors. "Aw Scrote, watch out or you'll get walked on!"

Cathy had gone all upbeat and brought grape juice and 
dry cider, and a small box of chocolates. "For the 
chef," she chided Sean when he reached for them, leading 
the way through a tiny lounge to the kitchen.

"Oy, git out you mangy mongrel!" came a snarl from the 
cramped room beyond. Sean stepped back out of the way as 
Cathy went through to the fridge.

"Here you go you monster! These are for you," Cathy 
laughed, putting the chocolates on the sink, and she 
bent to pick up a surly and very fluffy cat. "Come on, 
naughty one, you shouldn't be in there with all that 
fur. Come and meet Jo, she likes cats too, you know..." 
There followed a bizarre slo-mo waltz of bodies and arms 
as Cathy squeezed out with the cat, Sean slid in to put 
the drinks in the fridge, Kieran dragged a huge iron 
skillet out of a cupboard that looked too small to hold 
it, and I gawped around at the incredible decor. This 
house was in all respects the sort of cottage spinster 
great-great aunties live in, where the furniture has 
legs like said auntie and there's no fitting less than 
fifty years old. Some of the cupboards had leadlight 
panels. The fridge was one of those short, bullet-topped 
ones with a huge double-handed latch and a noisy motor. 
But if the forms were yesteryear, the decorations were 
something entirely otherworldy. The fridge, for example, 
should have been of chipped and discoloured yellow 
enamel - but it had been painted up to look like some 
kind of Star Wars droid. A fire-breathing dragon belched 
flame above the stove. One of the starships Enterprise - 
I don't know which one, I'm not a Trekkie - soared above 
the art-deco light fitting, and faerie maidens in 
gossamer garlanded the door-arch. 

"You got something there that should be fridged?" Kieran 
gave a crooked grin, for my face must have said it all. 
I jumped, and wordlessly pushed my cooler-bag at him. He 
zipped it open and nodded approval, drawing out the 
plastic-wrapped fish caught earlier. "Mm, very nice, 
should be able to do something with this. Thanks. Now, 
Sean, get 'em out of here and show them the rest of the 
place, not that Cathy needs a guide." He grabbed a beer 
can from the fridge, cracked it, and sloshed the 
contents into a big mixing bowl.

"Come and meet Scrote!" Cathy smiled from the lounge, 
where she cuddled the now-purring animal. He was big and 
white and floppy, with Siamese-point colouring; a 
thoroughly gorgeous and sooky creature. I sat beside her 
on the little two-seat lounge, taking in the nebulaic 
ceiling, a cupboard painted up as the Tardis, and a life 
sized Tom Baker Dr Who painting looking whimsical in the 
corner.

"Scrote? That's his name?"

Cathy giggled and Sean blushed. "His full name's, er, 
Scrotum, so we call him Scrote," he explained. "It's a 
kind of joke, because he's so ugly - not."

"Let me guess who called him that!" Having sniffed me 
over carefully, Scrote decided he wanted to try my lap 
for size. Although he was gorgeous, I got up, not 
wanting to hear Kieran ask "all right, who's petting my 
Scrotum?"

"This is an...amazing place you guys have here," I said 
sincerely, gazing around. Sean was grinning, and showed 
me the hall with faery figures and seductive women, a 
satyr leering on the master bedroom door, which stood 
ajar on a tidy room with an unmade double mattress. That 
was their father's room, and it was only made up when he 
was home. Sean and Kieran had a tiny room each. No room 
had been spared the artwork; even the master bedroom had 
a picture-wall of a Concorde as the old man was 
something of an air buff. The walls of Kieran's room 
were papered with a patchwork of sketches.

"Yeah," said Sean, "it wasn't always like this, it was 
all dank and mouldy.  We sanded and fixed it up bit by 
bit, then when Dad got home last time he tore strips off 
us. But it's heaps better. Maybe he didn't like Pan, I 
dunno. Anyway, come and see this - Cathy, you wouldn't 
have seen this yet either."

He led us through the kitchen again, where lids rattled 
and danced merrily on pots and a delicious, buttery-
smelling sizzle was happening. Kieran paid us no heed, 
but after checking his cooking was in order he trailed 
us as far as the tiny laundry. Sean switched on an 
outdoor light, and we went into the back yard.  It was 
as I remembered it - close, dark and oppressive. The 
creek was an oily presence behind the gnarled willow, 
and I don't think the tyre had been swung on by either 
of these young men.

"Switch her on?" asked Kieran from inside, and Sean 
nodded, elated, excited by something. 

It's amazing what fairy lights can do to a place. Cathy 
gasped for delight. "You were talking about this!" 
Suddenly we were in a rather magical courtyard. Sean lit 
some citronella candles, and a hurricane lamp on the 
table set for four. All around were pots of herbs, and 
several bonsai trees, and miniature figures set in 
adventure landscapes as though Dungeons and Dragons had 
never gone out of style here.

It was the most amazing dinner I'd ever had. The cat 
hung around and did very cute begging, and Kieran fed 
him prawn heads; Sean and Cathy laughed together, and I 
relaxed too. Sean said he was embarrassed, but our 
snooping at BoggleEye Point had ended with his and Cathy 
getting it together. Dad's room, as it turned out, had 
become very convenient, and Kieran grumbled that he was 
being frequently turned out and sent to the workshop. 
Sean and Cathy traded coy glances. They shared one bench 
seat, and sat closer and closer as the evening 
progressed.

"Have you given any more thought to a picture you might 
like?" Kieran said to me. "Something tells me four's a 
crowd. I'll take you over to the studio so you can look 
through my stuff." He pointed at Sean. "You two get to 
clear up, and I can drop Jo home on the bike if she 
needs to move on."

Kieran and I were looking increasingly like two 
leftovers. He lit a big flashlight and showed me along 
the short path to the main workshop, unlocked a tin door 
and flicked on fluorescent lights. We entered what was 
clearly his office; more sketches tacked up everywhere, 
a big drafting desk at one end, an office desk with 
computer, printer and fax. There were large racks like 
those at gift shops where posters are displayed, and 
shelves and files. Of course, most of the material in 
easy view was sketches of boobsy women pouting and 
leaning suggestively.

"No, that's display stuff for my clients, nothing there 
you'd be interested in, 'less you're a lot kinkier than 
I thought."

"Oh, charming," I said tartly. I still wasn't enthused 
at the notion of Kieran and I having to entertain each 
other while Sean and Cathy made nookie.

"C'mere." He'd moved a couple of boxes of sketches, and 
photo albums - these contained pictures of finished 
artworks from hot rods to racing helmets - and opened a 
less-remarked set of drawers. "Help yourself," he said.

So it was that I learned there was more to Kieran's art 
than titty nymphs. This was a two-dimensional 
wonderland. Fantasy, both science and mythological, were 
richly represented. His fundamental love of the human 
form was married to rich drapery and costuming, arms and 
armour, and mythological beasts abounded too. Heroic, 
ample warriesses were teamed with nicely-shaped males, 
either fighting off or harnessing beasts both familiar 
and phantasmic. His love of cats could be seen in 
felines from the savage to the aristocratic.

While I wandered, he had booted his computer, mouse 
clicking as he worked at something onscreen. "Where do 
you get your inspiration for all this?" I asked at last, 
indicating the whole workshop.

"What, my dames?" He grinned. "Net porn, it's an endless 
supply. I must be one of the few blokes who study it for 
more than just fun, though I must say it's a fair bit of 
fun. It's like anything else on the Web though, you 
gotta know the right places to find the right sort of 
stuff."

"What do you mean?" I asked, a little hesitantly. There 
was a whole Pandora's Box in the word porn. I knew there 
were places you could get rude things, pictures and 
movies of naked people doing fascinating things. My 
brothers had tried to get that sort of stuff on our 
computer, and been blown to smithereens by Mum and Dad, 
who had the system locked up tightly.

"Well, there's aesthetically pleasing stuff taken by 
skilled photographers with all the right equipment, and 
there's crappy webcam shots of scrawny netgeeks sucking 
their own dicks, and there's stuff that's just plain 
sick. Only quality here thanks, quality." His tone was 
utterly matter-of-fact.

"Is that what you're doing now, research?"

"Never in front of a guest," he declared, then gave a 
wicked chuckle. "Though you'd probably be cool with it, 
you like to watch."

I flashed bright crimson. "Only out of curiosity, and 
never again!"

He laughed, and I went back to looking through his 
works. Just when I'd think I'd found something really 
nice, I'd open another folder and find something else 
truly astonishing. It was almost disappointing to get to 
the end of the first drawer.

"Okay if I keep going?" I asked, hand on the next folio. 
He glanced up and shrugged.

"Sure. Like I said, it's an open shop to you. Only...I 
haven't hidden all the rude stuff, so don't whine to me 
if you see something that offends your maidenly 
sensitivities. There's also heaps of boring stuff from a 
few years back when I was practicing and refining my 
knowledge of anatomy, bones and skulls and muscles and 
things. Wanna cup of something while you look?"

"Oh, thanks." I wondered if he was going back to the 
house as much to check on Sean and Cathy as to get 
cocoa. And while he was gone, I couldn't help but look 
at his computer. The screen was facing away from me, so 
I tiptoed quickly over to it and nudged the mouse to 
kill the screensaver (a random selection of bodacious 
ladies, of course!) All that came up was a business 
spreadsheet, so I flitted back to the drawers I had been 
peering in.

The lowermost drawer had no label. I tried it 
experimentally. At first it didn't budge, so I thought 
it locked; but then as I stood up and closed the upper 
drawer, the lower one slid out as if of its own accord. 
Freed up by the shifting of weight. There were a few 
folders up the back, pushed there by the object inside.

I gasped. With a dread fascination, as though in a 
dream, transported in time, I put my hand down and 
brought the thing out, and gazed with childish horror at 
its empty orbits and sharp fangs. It was a cat's skull, 
nailed to a short handle, adorned with feathers, ribbons 
and rusty bells.

"Oh my God!" I wanted to giggle, my heart thundering in 
remembered panic. "Do you still use this, Kieran?" I 
giggled to myself. Next time he accused me of being a 
voyeur, I could shake this ridiculous thing at him. The 
angry girl in me wanted to throw it in the creek. I 
settled for leaving it on top of the filing cabinet, in 
arm's reach. I closed the bottom drawer and checked 
another cabinet altogether, discovering a new group of 
sketches. These were torsos, male and female, twisting 
and rippling. There were a lot of breasts - I was later 
to learn that getting hand-sketched breasts to look 
right is actually an art in itself that required plenty 
of practice. No wonder Kieran enjoyed his work.

Breasts, hands, ears, noses...all those tricky parts. 
And then there was another folder, headed "Genitals". 
Both kinds were here, although the female certainly 
outnumbered the male. These were closeups in perfect 
anatomical detail. I skipped past the labia sketches, 
but lingered over the few male sketches, of both flaccid 
and erect examples. Who needed porn? These were, simply 
put, beautiful.

"Ah hah! Caught you looking!" Kieran was grinning as he 
shouldered through the door, a mug in each hand. I gave 
a guilty start in spite of myself, then grabbed the cat-
stick.

"Yeah, well, mind your manners or I'll tell the world 
about this!"

He scowled a moment, taken aback, then shut his eyes and 
gave a slow laugh. Did he redden just a little? "Oh, 
man, where did you find that?"

"Laying around. What kind of cat lover are you? This is 
so gross."

"It's magic," he said seriously. "When I was eight I 
found the skull in a roadside ditch. I'd never thought 
much about death before then. It scared the hell out of 
me. I didn't realise it was a cat, I thought it was some 
kind of alien thing. I was feeling a bit scared and 
hassled at the time," he shrugged, "so I brought it home 
and turned it into a charm for scaring fear away."

"Did it work?" I asked dubiously. I didn't know about 
the fear thing, but it had worked fine on young girls in 
kayaks.

"It helped," he said easily, setting my mug down. He 
grinned at the drawer I had left open. "Find anything 
interesting in there? You don't have to worry about me, 
I'm not ragging you about your cave. The human body's a 
thing of beauty, and you obviously have an appreciation 
for that. Which feels all naughty, but is perfectly 
natural. You want something from there, I'll sketch it 
up properly for you, no worries." He made an expansive 
gesture as he returned to his computer. "All teenagers 
are sexual creatures, with this strange kind of innocent 
overlay. But still sexual. You don't know if you were 
being sinner or saint playing serpent to Sean and 
Cathy's Adam and Eve, eh?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Curiosity's all it was. I was the same during my 
awakening years. I did it, and I seen it all here." He 
batted a hand at the screen. "Now it's just another part 
of life. But I see kids like those two in there, and 
Renton, who comes over here and surfs for naughty stuff 
- that's a secret, mind - and you with your cave, it's 
all new and exciting for you. But it's also serious 
shit, you can get hurt or burned or whatever."

I thought of Lyn, and agreed.

"Which makes it all the more dangerous and exciting. But 
natural. That was the point I got shot down for trying 
to make. Well," and he scratched his head, "tact aint my 
strong suit."

"You mean your infamous senior high art project?" I 
smiled. "Where is it?"

"Preserved in all its glory for posterity. You want to 
see it? Cost you fifty a look," he grinned. "Nah, all 
depends why you want to see it. Want to look at sexy 
pictures, check folder Karma Sutra there, third drawer 
in that cupboard there, rather than high school art. The 
gear for the school project was really very tame, and 
none of it got past rough sketch stage. Enclosed with it 
are the comments from the educational staff." His lips 
peeled back bitterly. "Fun reading. Look for the skull 
and crossbones file. My closing sketches were crude 
cartoons of the principal and Art Mistress in 
compromising positions; pathetic really." His eyes were 
on the screen.

Maybe that had been the one at the back of the lowermost 
drawer. I picked up the cat's head stick and opened the 
file, replacing it and drawing out the nameless files 
that were behind it.

These pictures were particularly beautiful, and all 
stuck to a single theme. The subject was a lean, elegant 
woman, variously posed on rocks or sand, or swimming in 
the sea. She was not a mermaid, but had a long whippy 
tail, and scaled skin. Colour developments of the 
sketches showed her as dark and metallic, wearing 
nothing but fine silver bracelets and charms. She did 
not belong to any mythology or fantasy I could easily 
recognise.

"Who's this?" I asked, taking the file toward him. He 
looked up, then sat back from his screen and saved his 
work.

"Her? Uh, well, she's special. She's...the Lorelei, I 
call her."

"As in the Point? I thought it was named after a boat."

"Yeah, but what was the boat named after? A lorelei's 
like a siren, you know, a beautiful but daemonic woman 
that lures young sailors to their deaths on the rocks." 
He fixed me with a dark, steady stare that dared me to 
argue. "There's no way that point was named for a boat. 
She's real, and she lives in the seas just off those 
rocks, down in the kelp. Sometimes she comes to the 
surface. I used to think, when I was a bit younger, she 
fed on the sexual energy of young men. But now I think 
it's innocence she feeds on."

I laughed and shook my head. "Ah c'mon, there's no such 
thing!"

"Do you think Sean and Cathy are the only ones who've 
lost their cherries out there? Uh uh. Even you lost your 
innocence at that cave." Although he smiled, his words 
were sober with knowing.

"Yeah, but if there was a wicked mermaid sitting out 
there, Lorelei Point would be as famous as Loch Ness." I 
flicked through the pictures again. "How do you even 
know what she looks like?"

"I know she's real, because I've seen her," he said 
softly. His brows gathered in a sharp expression, 
expecting my disbelief.

"You've seen her. How drunk were you that day, or was it 
something else you'd had?"

"Of course, Little Miss Sanctimonious, lah-de-bloody-
dah! I was neither high, pissed nor stoned. I came back 
to town and got myself that way after I saw her." He 
reached for the folder and I handed it to him, and he 
leafed through its contents gently, his expression 
softening. Something wistful was revealed there, that I 
had never seen in Kieran tough-guy before. "I never 
could quite get the iridescence right," he said softly. 
"Never did her full justice. You want to hear about 
her?"

Of course I did. Who doesn't enjoy a good mystery story? 
"First, you gotta swear secrecy on this. Okay, people 
think I'm a bit unhinged, but this'd blow me out of the 
water and I've got a nice little business going here." 
He went to the drawer again, and took out the cat's 
skull. "Swear on this you'll not breathe a word of what 
I'm gonna tell you."

"All right." I didn't much like the shadows in the eyes 
of that damn skull. I chose some relatively inane words 
that seemed to suit the solemnity in his face. "If I 
fail to keep your trust, my kayak will split and sink 
for no apparent reason with me aboard. Which wouldn't 
kill me, but it'd be a hell of an inconvenience."

"I would have suggested the penalty be you'd have to go 
out with Mitch again," he grinned, and my jaw hit the 
floor.

"So much for secrets! Renton told you, did he?"

"My source shall remain nameless, for all that he's a 
long red streak of information. I could have spared you 
the distress and told you from the start, Mitch's a 
wanker with a few weird ideas."

"No doubt you let him surf his porn here too!"

"I did for a while, until he turned out to be a bit of a 
tool. He don't hang around here anymore."

"Bloody hell," I muttered. "All right, just get on with 
the damn story, will you!"

***

Kieran didn't think much of school, the teachers or his 
peers. He was happiest away from it, spending many a day 
exploring. He had found a great place to get away from 
all his troubles out at Lorelei Point, but only went 
there during school hours, which is why I'd never seen 
him from my pirate fortress window. He went there to get 
away from all his hassles, to do some serious rock 
fishing, and of course, to pleasure himself in privacy. 
Five years before Sean, he spilled his sperm in the sea, 
and wondered if the fish ever fed on it.

On first arriving there he would lay face-down on the 
sunwarmed rock and relax, letting his stress and hassles 
drift away. For a while he would close his eyes and 
focus on his other senses - the roar of the sea in his 
ears, its salty tang in his nostrils and on his lips. He 
would feel how his body lay along the rock, yielding 
flesh upon solid stone, but for one part of him that 
would grow hotter and stiffer until it seemed the 
stone's equal. Safe in his isolation, there was no limit 
to what he would do, in his imagination. He told himself 
he wanted to be alone, when in truth he despaired of any 
woman wanting him - he wanted badly to be grown-up, to 
be a man, and the years would not pass quickly enough. 
He tried hard to act the man, to be the man, but the boy 
was still afraid enough to need his cat-skull charm, and 
to believe in magic.

The day came when he was not alone at the Point.

He arrived at his regular place on the rockshelf, by the 
little beachlet, and put down his rucksack and fishing 
gear. Finding a place on the stone that faced the sea, 
he got down on all fours, ready to lay on the rocks. The 
swell rushed in to perhaps knee-depth, and as it came he 
saw something dark move with it along the sand.

A shark? He stood up to better see - but then the water 
billowed and burst as the Lorelei erupted from the sea, 
going from swim to stand in one fluid motion.

Staring slack-jawed as he realised how alien she was, 
his knees slowly buckled. At first he thought she was a 
spearfisher wearing a full-body black wetsuit. But there 
was no mask or breathing gear, and sunlight flashed from 
scale. He had seen fishscale beneath the sea, 
silverlight and iridescence. She was jet black and steel 
blue as a raven, and a long, whippy cord trailed behind 
her, snapping about like the tail of a tetchy cat, 
cutting the water. She looked down at him archly from 
enormous, slanted eyes the colour of stormclouds, that 
had no whites and vertical slits for pupils.

All he could think was that he had left his catskull at 
home.

Her head tilted as she looked him up and down with a 
gaze as cold and impassive as the open ocean. She was 
naked but for a few strings and garlands of pearl and 
polished coral, and his gaze lingered upon breasts that 
were small and conical. Long, pointed nipples dark as 
black coral emerged from her sleek scales. Aside from a 
narrow black mane that sprouted from the crown of her 
head and ran right down her spine to the root of her 
tail, there wasn't a hair on her, and his gaze went down 
to the bare V of her pubis. He gulped when he noticed 
that secret, sacred notch where her labia began, and in 
spite of his shock, his penis throbbed and began to 
grow.

She gave a long, slow blink. A small smile curved her 
lips, and he tried to identify that expression. Was 
it...knowing? Then she turned away and walked gracefully 
for the water's edge, sunlight playing upon her swaying 
hips. Her tail emerged from the root of her spine 
naturally, between lean rounded buttocks that he yearned 
to touch. Strange she was, yes, but also beautiful 
beyond his wildest dreaming.

As he managed to regain control of his legs, his intent 
being to follow her, she turned again to face him, and 
knelt at the highest reach of the seawater, with her 
knees wide apart. She rested her hands on her knees and 
drew a deep breath, arching her back and closing her 
eyes as the swell washed in. Foam rushed up her thighs 
and splattered her belly, and her lips parted in 
ecstasy. Then she ran her hands slowly down her torso, 
over her breasts and down, along a seamless stomach and 
beneath, to that place where her labia were parted. 
Within that slit, her flesh was rose and scarlet, a 
stunning blossom against the glistening dark of her 
skin.

The effect on him was electric, his half-risen cock 
snapping to attention and straining against denim. Her 
eyelids half-opened and she gave him a hooded glance, 
her smile widening. The tip of her tongue appeared 
briefly between her lips, moist and pink, an echo of 
what was below. She drew her hands up her thighs, an 
unmistakable gesture of invitation.

Like a sleepwalker, he moved jerkily toward her, 
shamble-footed; down from the rocks and splashing into 
ankle-deep water, wading against another foaming rush. 
When he stood almost between her knees he knelt, the 
cool caress of seawater that soaked his pants doing 
nothing to soothe the fiery lump at his groin. For a 
moment he gazed at her face and shoulders, the texture 
and sheen of her scales. Up close, she was even more 
lovely, and there was kindness in her strange eyes. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he raised a hand, and brought it to 
rest upon her shoulder. He had expected she would 
disappear. Instead, her skin was warm, smooth and satin-
slick along the lie of her scales; rough as sharkskin 
the other way. Gulping, still unsure he could trust his 
senses, he drew his hand across her collarbone, then 
down between her breasts.

She leaned forward a little and raised her arms, cupping 
his face in strong, slender hands. Her eyes moved across 
his features, and with one thumb she traced his jawline 
and immature whiskers. A brief, quirky grin lit her 
face, as though she found his boyishness endearing. Then 
she pressed her lips to his, kissing him with supreme 
authority.

He'd never been kissed so fully and passionately before. 
Her lips captured his and showed them how to move, how 
to dance. She tasted of sweet, fresh springwater, and 
when he leaned into her, showing that he could give as 
good as he was getting, she slipped her tongue in to 
join that dance. He ran his hands down the elegant 
length of her spine, arms pulling her body against his, 
feeling the tiny hard buds of her nipples against his 
chest through his teeshirt. Their tongues swirled and 
rolled together like dolphins playing, her leading, him 
following; with each kiss she urged him to match her, 
flicking and whirling the tip of her tongue light and 
fast.

When she was satisfied with his response, she took her 
mouth from his. With fingers knotted in his thick, 
shaggy hair, she pulled his head down as she arched her 
neck back. For the first time in his life, he was 
presented with naked breasts that were for him to touch 
and caress, to kiss and suck. They made wonderful, 
rounded shapes that cupped neatly within each hand, 
nipples drilling holes in his palms.

Breasts! He brought his mouth to one, sucking the nipple 
and flicking it with his tongue. Her fingers curled 
against his skull as she gave a soft moan of pleasure, 
the first sound either of them had made. His pulsing 
groin was tensing and clenching, and as he moved lips 
and hands from the wonder of one breast to the other 
there was no containing his orgasm.

When the hot hammer-shocks passed he found himself 
pressed between her breasts, gasping for breath, his 
groin a strange swirl of cool seawater and hot, soft 
cum. She held his shoulders and hugged him gently, 
holding him through the explosion, stroking his hair 
with one hand. His wits slowly returned. With the 
urgency gone, he could take the time to enjoy all of 
her, while she was here to be enjoyed. Soon he was 
kissing her breasts again.

There was a positively wicked gleam in her eyes as she 
leaned back, way back, so flexible she could lower her 
body to the sand while her knees remained wide apart. He 
followed her breasts down, but she guided his head 
firmly lower, down her body. He paused to kiss her lower 
belly, but knew what she wanted from him next.

Aroused already, her inner folds were swollen and 
scarlet, her clitoris a red pea. He did not hesitate, 
bringing his lips to her labia and opening them out, 
kissing them as surely as he had kissed her mouth. His 
tongue flicked into a deep, hot well with the ocean's 
flavour and hints of a sweeter musk. Like a diver in red 
coral, he found crevices to explore, and delicate 
structures to flick his tongue along and around. 

And with every small motion of his tongue, she moaned 
with pleasure. He licked her slit from end to end, 
lingering and whirling around her clitoris and trying to 
catch it and cup it. His tongue ached from exertion but 
he kept at it, for she started raising her pelvis off 
the sand and tugging his face in harder, her gasps and 
moans increasing in volume and need. His penis was 
stirring again, and he plunged his tongue in as deeply 
as it would reach, waggling the tip. As he withdrew he 
licked her clit again, and she gave a great gasp and her 
whole body spasmed, gouging the sand. He thought she 
might crush him between her thighs, so he sat back, 
taking in the view of this amazing sea siren sprawled 
before him, helpless with the pleasure he had given her.

Her eyes opened when she realised he had stopped, and 
the glare she gave him was one of pure hunger, a 
sharklike ferocity. Her tail, which lay along the sand 
between his knees, twitched as she pushed herself 
upright and he glanced down, suddenly afraid of what it 
might do to his most sensitive region. The tail curled, 
snaked, then its tip whipped up with blinding speed as 
if to confirm his worst fear.

But she didn't use it to smack him in the cods. The very 
tip of it glinted like blue steel, and whisked close by 
his chest before coming to rest in the sand. It had a 
barbed tip with a keen edge, and had slit his shirt 
neatly up the middle. She shuffled forward on her knees 
to rub her hands up and down the skin of his chest and 
stomach.

"Uh, how about I get this?" he said, hastily undoing his 
wet, sticky pants. Although she helped him peel them 
down his thighs, her attention was on his rigging. His 
cock was not yet fully upright, but was pleasingly 
enlarged. She ran her hands up and down one of his 
thighs, feeling and caressing the musculature. Just the 
hot look of her, the lust with which she eyed him was 
arousing enough. Then she bent down, and he felt the 
warm wetness of her tongue beneath the head of his 
penis, catching it up and drawing it between her lips 
and into her mouth.

The world seemed to spin about him, and he locked his 
teeth over a deep, low groan of pleasure. With that 
strong, soft tongue slipping up and down most of his 
length, he was swiftly hard again, and although he ached 
to rock back and forth, the natural instinct to thrust, 
he held himself still lest he disrupt her rhythm. Her 
fingers kneaded his taut-muscled rump, or gently caught 
his scrotum, and he wondered then was it his milk she 
sought, his sperm for sustenance? His balls were 
charging, and it would not be long before he fed her.

She knew well enough what she was doing to read that in 
the way his body tensed, and she drew away, leaving him 
wondering and somehow disappointed. But only for a 
moment, for she lay down on her back again, knees still 
wide but this time up in the air. As if her open vagina 
wasn't invitation enough, she raised her arms toward 
him.

In wonder he leaned over her, bringing his throbbing 
self to touch that most delightful of places. He had 
never navigated here before, and at first although he 
leaned, his cock wanted to slide up and off rather than 
into anything. Their hands touched as each of them 
reached for his shaft, he to steady its wanderings, she 
to guide it home. He let her lead, and pressed against 
resistance...briefly.

Submerged into a hot, silken wonderland of sensation. 
Thrust in and out as though borne on the swell, the full 
force of the ocean's power, up, almost out, down and in, 
goaded by her soft cries that mixed with his gasps. Not 
even the tiny, sharp stings where flecks of sand abraded 
his skin could take him from this ultimate pleasure. Her 
tail had coiled around his left leg, trapping him; her 
legs twined with his, hands tugging his rump and urging 
more from him, more.

And then the world vanished in a white-hot gush, his 
whole being consumed in rhythmic bursts of agonising 
pleasure. He thought he would faint...

Salty white foam trickled up his face where he lay, face 
down in the sand. The tide had turned, the waters 
rising. The wash splashed into his nostrils so that he 
snorted seawater, gagged and coughed, and struggled to 
his knees.

He was alone.

Utterly disoriented, he picked himself up. Rationality 
argued he had fallen asleep face-down on the beach. But 
hadn't he been on the rocks? Of course she had been 
there. His jeans and jocks were down around his ankles, 
his shirt shredded.

He dipped in the sea enough to rinse the worst of the 
sand off and pulled up his pants, and tore the shirt off 
over his head. Laying by his unused fishing gear was a 
large silver dory he couldn't remember catching, a 
magnificent fish that would make splendid eating. 
Gathering up his things, he stumbled back toward town, 
craving whisky or a joint, preferably both.

***

Of course, Kieran didn't quite describe it in such 
detail that night, but he didn't leave much out either. 
He spoke frankly, unafraid of offending maidenly 
sensitivities - I wasn't sweet or innocent for all my 
virginity. I liked that. He was treating me as an adult, 
a woman of the world even, rather than a child.

"And that was that," he said, gazing into memory. As he 
had told his tale we had moved with the sketches to his 
computer, and there he had brought up images from 
another electronic library, again of his Lorelei. "She 
ruined me for other women. I never saw her again. Went 
back to the Point not to jerk off, but to wait for her, 
took her offerings, all sort of weird shit. She never 
returned." He looked down and gave a laugh, shook his 
head. "When Sean got older I sent him out there, as bait 
I suppose - never told him about her, least, not at 
first, although he couldn't not notice these drawings I 
was doing. I just told him I saw her out at sea, not 
what she did to me."

"Did you ever have, er, human girlfriends?" I asked 
carefully, still sure he'd dreamed her up in some drug-
stupor.

"Two," he grunted. "Old history now. Denise wanted to 
see the world, she didn't want to be stuck here in a 
backwater like Seaford, so she took off. Nellie didn't 
like me going down on her, which was a shame, everything 
else was okay. Muff diving's my thing, you could say," 
he mused. "I know people are squeamish about it, it's a 
matter of personal taste, no pun intended; Sean doesn't 
much like the idea, for instance, I doubt he'd ever 
growl Cathy out."

"I'm not too sure about it myself," I said, curling my 
nose. "I don't think I'd want to, like, it's kind of 
smelly down there and stuff."

He grinned, attention returning to the present. "I'm not 
talking about snorting around in day-old cheesey 
knickers here! Under the right conditions it's really 
nice; although again, it's my thing, so I'm biased. As 
for her..." He nodded at the screen. "At least I've got 
the memories, plain as day."

"Could I have a picture of her?" I asked sincerely. 
"Lorelei Point's always going to be special to me, too."

"You'd like her?" He seemed a bit taken aback, but shook 
himself out of it. "Sure, it'd be a pleasure, no 
problem. Why her, though?"

Maybe I'd blundered into something too personal of his. 
I'd asked for a piece of a deeply cherished personal 
memory. But I stuck to my guns. "Because she's 
everything I wish I could be," I said, picking up one of 
his sketches of her poised, arrogant and commanding on a 
pedestal of basalt. "She's in command of her life, she's 
mature, she's very sexy and not ashamed of it. She's 
everything I'm not, everything I'd like to be."

"Really?" he said pensively, eyes keen upon me. "I'd 
never thought of her like that before, never seen her 
through the eyes of anyone else. Yes...All right, I'll 
see what I can do. But..." He hesitated, rubbing his 
stubble with a scowl. "I've never quite gotten her 
right, you know, perfect, exact, least not to my 
satisfaction. I don't want to offer you second-rate 
goods. What if I throw open all the files you've seen 
here tonight, and you take away an existing picture as 
well as a keepsake? I'll still paint you the Lorelei, 
but grab yourself another Kieran original as a bonus. 
Pick one, and you can go home, I won't bore you 
anymore."

"Hey," I smiled, "it's been anything but boring."

"Yeah, well, don't go telling the whole town I'm a nut-
case," he replied with a rueful grin. I shook my head.

"No, I wouldn't." Whether he'd imagined it or not, it 
made a great story. I wouldn't part with a word of it 
beyond my closest associates, Lyn, Cathy and Renton.

"Well?" he asked, indicating his files. I tried to 
recall which picture had impressed me the most from 
earlier in the evening. Although I tried to think of 
others, only one image kept coming back to me.

"Um, well, there was one...in the Anatomy folder." I was 
blushing already, my face burning. He just looked at me 
expectantly.

"It's yours, I don't need any of those sketches 
anymore." He got up and went to the file, thumbing 
through breasts, buttocks, ears, fingers. I knew which 
one I wanted, filed under Genitalia, Male. 

"Um, there. That one," I said in a small voice, 
expecting to be teased or called rude. Kieran smiled, 
with understanding rather than scorn or disapproval. In 
his presence, it was all right to look. All my life, I 
had been bombarded with messages that sex was something 
rude, naughty and dirty. And forbidden.

I held the picture up at arms' length. This was a 
beautifully-detailed sketch of an erect penis, an image 
I had wondered about for a long time and only recently 
glimpsed. With this picture I could gaze upon the wonder 
at leisure and see that hidden thing in all its glory. 
It rose up from a dense bush of neatly-penned curls, 
softly rounded pouch beneath.

"Why does it have a reputation for being ugly and 
vulgar?" I wondered, "when it has such beauty?"

"We males could ask the same thing about the female 
anatomy," he said. "Guess it's not about what it is, but 
how it's used. Or misused. Here." He took the sheet from 
me and went to his drafting table, scrawling his 
signature in pen at the lower corner before rolling it 
smartly and slipping it into a cardboard tube. "Yours, 
with the Lorelei to follow. Only don't let your mother 
see it, or I'll be the worst in the world for supplying 
porn to vulnerable kiddies and it'll be back to the 
great Year Ten Art Scandal all over again." We both 
laughed, and he shook his head. "They've only just 
stopped sending hate mail, I'd hate to see it flare up 
all over again."

"Hate mail? Who? The principal?"

"Naah. Some of the more fanatical church folk hereabouts 
got wind of it, and yeah, they take exception to some of 
my car murals too, which are really, really tame. Real 
poison pen stuff. It's all in the skull and crossbones 
file, and I set the catskull up to stand guard over that 
stuff, a pox on the flamin' lot of them! So much for 
love thy neighbour."

We talked for a while about the ridiculousness of the 
moral extremists, and I wondered at how that faction 
mimicked my own inner conditioning about the wrongness 
of being curious about sex. "I agree," said Kieran 
eventually, "there's truly horrendous sexual stuff out 
there which should be suppressed; but that shouldn't 
mean suppressing the whole thing. What is needed is 
information, facts, learning, not denial that sex is a 
healthy part of human nature."

"It's good just being able to talk about it openly," I 
said. I'd worked out the facts of life from conjecture 
and a booklet my mother handed me when I'd first hit 
puberty. My parents would have to be the least sexual 
creatures I could think of, second only to my 
grandparents...no, in fact, that idea was gross, and I 
just didn't want to venture there! "It's all in the 
presentation though, whether it's beauty or smut. Like 
Mitch flopping his dong out at me. That wasn't 
attractive, it was yuck."

Kieran laughed and shook his head. "Well, maybe someday 
he'll meet the right girl for him, because she'll be 
impressed when he does that. Horses for courses. The 
direct approach has its uses, but most women prefer a 
bit more subtlety than that. Actually..." He glanced at 
his computer. "You like looking at naked men, what red-
blooded girl doesn't? You can get them online, 
although..." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The best 
male nudes are found with gay stuff; unfortunately you 
have to wade through pictures of blokes shagging other 
blokes. Some people might find that romantic, but as a 
straight guy I'm biased to the Eww Yuck side of things." 
He made a face.

"You said you let Renton surf on your machine."

"Him, Sean of course, and Cathy has a look too. Only at 
certain times, when I don't need the machine for work-
related purposes. Renton's probably the best-educated 
virgin around when it comes to sex matters, now that 
Sean's lost it. He'll do some lucky girl proud."

"A protegee of yours?" I smiled, but not without 
rancour. Yes, Renton was a decent guy. But somehow, even 
with sex education, he wasn't quite sexy enough for me, 
or so I told myself - not that it mattered, for his eyes 
were upon Lyn. Damn.

Kieran just chuckled, then gave me a hooded, teasing 
glance. "My turn to be Eden's snake. Tell Cathy I've 
cleared you to go smut-surfing, if you want to join the 
fun."

"Um, okay, I'll think about it. Thanks."

He just smiled knowingly. "Don't pretend you're not 
interested. Thursday night is Ladies' Night. Just bring 
your own munchies is all the payment I ask, unless you 
start making really big downloads."

***

The weirdest day of my life ended a little later, for it 
was close to midnight by then for a start. Kieran 
offered me a lift home on his bike. Sean and Cathy were 
watching some late movie on TV and having a laugh, 
sitting cuddled together on the lounge. I doubted that 
was all they'd been doing. It does bust up friendships 
somewhat, when someone gets deeply involved in a 
relationship. We'd patched things up, but Cathy's 
interest and energy went to Sean these days, and I 
missed her company.

Strangely, though, I had enjoyed my evening with Kieran. 
He had gone from one-dimensional tit-painter and scary 
weird-kid to intriguing, talented and complex. Dinner 
had been better than the day, and the ambiguity that had 
intruded on my friendship with Renton.

Lyn, too, had a great evening. I wasn't sure I wanted to 
hear too much about it, and did not breathe a word of my 
outing with Renton barring that the fishing was good. 
She had been feeling low when he called her up, and they 
went to a riverside reserve to grill fish, then went to 
the town beach and watched the lights come up across 
Bagin Bay. She admitted she had talked about Russ, and 
he had listened patiently so she talked more, eventually 
sharing the details of her woeful sexual experience.

"If that's what sex is about, then what's the point of 
ever getting involved with anyone?" she sighed. "I'm 
glad I didn't wait until my wedding night to find out. 
How many innocent brides found themselves trapped? Brr," 
she shivered. "Not me! But what's the point?"

"Hey, it can't be that bad, or the human race would 
never multiply," Renton reasoned gently. "It was your 
first time, neither of you had any experience, he would 
have been nervous. Maybe you should have both just, I 
dunno, taken your time."

"He said we needed more practice," she said coldly, "and 
he kept on about it, but he made out it was my problem, 
he thought it was great and it was me that had the 
problem if I wasn't satisfied. We tried again, but it 
wasn't any better, it was a great big nothing." Then she 
turned to him with a sad little smile. "I'm sorry, I 
didn't mean to snap. It's just not fair, that's all. 
Cathy doesn't seem to have any complaints. Maybe there 
is something wrong with me."

"Lyn, there is absolutely nothing the matter with you," 
he stated firmly. "You're pretty, funny and kind, and 
you wouldn't hurt anyone. A bit absent-minded, sometimes 
stubborn...ouch, I'm just giving a balanced analysis 
here!" She giggled, the twilight hiding a pinking of her 
cheeks as she prodded his ribs.

"Still..." She sobered quickly. "I mean, like, there's 
so much I don't know about...it...like, how big's it 
supposed to be? Everybody talks about the mythical eight 
inches, yeah? I mean, how big's a dong supposed to be? 
He didn't seem to be, well, he sure wasn't eight 
inches."

"Eight inches is a myth," Renton muttered, chucking a 
stone at the rising tide. "I think the average guy's 
supposed to be about five, which is what in metric, 
thirteen centimetres or so?"

Lyn raised her hand, trying to space her fingers 
accurately to Russ's measure. "What's that?" Renton 
asked with a laugh, peering through the darkness. "Ten? 
Fifteen? No?"

"Ohh, I can't remember really, I can't get this right," 
she giggled.

"All the guys I know seem pretty normal. I think Mitch's 
a bit longer, but it's not much of a difference. Not 
like I carry a tape measure on me."

"We all know Mitch's a bigger dick than most," Lyn 
laughed.

"Yeah, well, don't forget size doesn't matter. The 
experts say it's what you do with what you have." They 
sat in companionable quiet for a while, just listening 
to the whisper of the surf.

"That's better, too," he said after a while. "Hearing 
you giggle again. The way you've been lately, I've been 
worried, you know."

"I'm okay now. We've broken up and the pressure's off, 
and that much is a relief. Thank you for caring," she 
smiled, and he nodded, looking out to sea. "Still," she 
wondered, "I'd like to know why it all went wrong."

A scholarly frown creased his brow. "Well, it sounds 
like it was all pretty tense, worrying about being 
caught or interrupted and stuff. Did you both set the 
scene?"

"Candlelight, wine, soft music," she shrugged.

"But were you thinking sexy thoughts? Or worrying too 
much about Gran coming home...ohh man, nix to Grandma's! 
You should have been thinking naughty things way before 
you actually went there, and it should have been as much 
his responsibility as yours to set the scene properly."

"Well I was excited, yes, thrilled..."

"But sexy, really sexy?" Renton insisted, beginning to 
sound a bit stilted himself. "So sexy that er, hrmm, 
your ah knickers were, um, wet?"

"Um...a bit, I suppose...that's a kind of personal 
question."

"A bit? Either you were wet and ready, or dry and not. 
If there's no lubrication happening sex is going to 
hurt, even a virgin sexologist like me can tell you 
that, it stands to reason," he blustered. "You wondered 
why, so I had to ask a personal question!"

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I just didn't 
expect you to say something like that. But you're right, 
of course."

"You have to get in the mood, and the soft lights sweet 
music crap isn't necessarily going to be enough," Renton 
said more calmly. "Were you imagining soft, gentle 
kisses on your throat? Anticipating slowly revealing 
your, er, breasts?"

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't like that, we 
just...I was scared."

"You got to get in the mood. Some people need erotica, 
like, to watch a sexy French movie or something to set 
the mood. You should have been imagining how great he'd 
look out of his clothes."

She made an ambivalent noise. "If not him then," Renton 
continued, "how about your favourite movie star? Sounds 
like you just laid back and thought of England. But 
that's not your fault."

"I did try," she insisted stubbornly, although she 
nodded agreement. "I mean, like...last night, when Jo 
and I were, you remember?"

"Oh I remember," he said a little hoarsely. "There was 
nothing wrong with your technique, and please feel free 
to ravish me again any time you like! But seriously, 
Lyn, there's one other thing you might want to consider. 
With Russ...you really have to want somebody. Maybe you 
only thought you loved him. I'm sorry to put it so 
bluntly, but, you see?"

"That's why I broke up with him," she said softly. "It's 
for the best, that's what I tell myself."

He put his arms around her and hugged her in his 
brotherly way, and it felt so good she snuggled against 
him, tiny Lyn and long tall Renton. He felt nice, and 
smelled nice, and had a reassuring sensibility about him 
that made her feel secure. She liked the sound of his 
voice, and his height made him physically impressive. 
She liked the way he spoke and looked at her. And, truth 
be told, tongueing his nipple last night had made her 
wetter than being with Russ ever had.

"How do you know so much, anyway? Have you ever done 
it?" she asked.

He shrugged, his body moving alongside hers, and she was 
conscious of how one of her breasts pressed against his 
ribcage. "No. But I read. I like to know as much as I 
can about something before I try it for the first time."

"You mean there's an instruction manual for It?" she 
giggled.

"Well, there's sources of information, it's like 
anything, you read widely and take in info from a 
variety of sources."

"If you're reading about it, you're not doing it."

"Which is why I read so much," he declared drolly, and 
she squeezed him affectionately.

"I'm not much of a reader," she murmured. "Guess I'll 
have to learn by doing."

"Then you better start by finding yourself an older, 
experienced man, someone sophisticated and over-twenty, 
preferably a bachelor or divorced. Married men are bad 
karma."

Somehow, now that she was close by his chest again, all 
she could think of was the taste of his skin, and the 
firm resistance of his nipple to the stroking of her 
tongue. Russ had been too ticklish to allow her the 
pleasure. With casual lightness, she ran a hand across 
his chest, and was delighted to feel a hard point 
beneath his thin cotton shirt. One of her fingers 
snagged in the fold between two buttons, fingertip 
reaching warm skin.

"Hey," he said softly, as she slipped several fingers 
through the hole and made little circles on his chest. 
One of his hands came up to lightly cover hers. "What 
are you doing?"

"You said feel free, so I'm molesting you again, it was 
fun the first time." And she giggled. He didn't pull her 
hand away. "Let me know if you ever want to try the 
practical uses of what you read, yeah?" She brought her 
parted, tingling lips over where she had felt that 
nipple, finding its point beneath the fabric, and with 
great gentleness pinched it between her teeth.

"Ohh, man, Lyn!" he groaned. "I'm warning you, if you go 
attacking my nipples again, I-I'll demand the right of 
reply! Fair's fair!"

She lifted her head, searching for his buttons. Still he 
made no move to fend her off. "I'm not attacking, I'm 
playing," she insisted. "Russ never let me play with 
his. I want to!" His shirt started coming open.

"Hey! If I made a grab for your nipples you'd be 
screaming!" This made little impression on Lyn as she 
pushed the cloth aside and found what she wanted, a 
darker disc on skin pale by moonlight. They were just 
one of a few couples dotted along the waterside making 
out, anonymous and veiled by darkness. Her questing 
tongue found the nubbin she sought, and Renton made one 
last feeble protest. "I-I'll give you precisely five 
years to stop that! Right of reply, orright?"

Her only answer was to take his hands and push them 
firmly to her breasts.

"Oh, god, Lyn!" For a moment he cupped them gently in 
his big hands, moving them ever so slightly. She slipped 
her arms around his warm body under his shirt, kissing 
across his chest from one nipple to the other. He rocked 
slowly back to the sand under her onslaught, sliding one 
hand around to her shoulders and back, and the other 
down to the flare of her hip to feel, then squeeze her 
rump. He lowered his face to her wispy blonde hair, 
tenderly kissing her temple, and the top of her ear.

With his gentle kisses, she paused, looking up at him. 
"You...know what you said about...getting in the mood?" 
she whispered. "I think I'm getting in the mood now."

He brought a hand up to her cheek, caressing her face, 
his own expression troubled. "We should stop this."

She pouted, doe-eyed. "Don't you want me?"

"I've never wanted anything so much in my life! But it 
wouldn't be right for you just now. You're rebounding, 
Lyn, you know? I don't want you to do anything you might 
regret, and I don't want to wreck our friendship. You 
mean too much to me. Maybe...tomorrow...in the light of 
day..."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling his shirt back into 
place across his chest. "I'm acting like a slut."

"Maybe if you still feel the same way about me tomorrow, 
maybe that would mean we could go ahead, if that was 
what you wanted. Or if...you're no slut, Lyn! I want you 
too. I just don't want to hurt you, okay?"

She nodded, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah, of 
course. You always make sense, Renton, even when things 
get out of hand."

"Look, if you still want...weekend after next, I've got 
the house to myself, Mum and Dad are out." He was an 
only child. "That's all the arrangement we'll make, 
that's all I'll say. I'll be house-sitting, you can drop 
by if you want. Know what I'm saying?"

Biting her lip, she nodded. He got to his feet, 
buttoning his shirt, then offered her a hand up. "Come 
on, I'll walk you home."

She felt too abashed to say much. But they held hands 
all the way to her block, where he bent and kissed her 
lips soft and lingering, but not demanding. She accepted 
his kiss numbly, feeling as confused that night as I had 
been that morning. But for entirely different reasons.

***

He greeted us at school with a cool casualness, and 
didn't hang around, keeping a careful distance.

I really didn't need to know what was going on. An ugly 
little goblin was turning my stomach, an imp an 
unpleasant shade of bilious jealousy-green. I really 
needed to hang out with Cathy and Sean more than Lyn. 
But she needed to bend someone's ear about it.

"It's terrible," she moaned midweek. "It's not going 
away! He's playing it cool and suddenly I can't get him 
out of my head! I just have to think of him and I feel 
turned-on."

"He's right though, you're on the rebound," Cathy 
cautioned. I'd heard more than enough.

"Oh for God's sake go and shag him, then! Get over it!" 
And I huffed off, fed up, and hating myself for feeling 
jealous. I passed Sean in the common-room entry as I 
stormed off.

"Hey, Jo, wait up." I spun about wearing a yeah-what 
look. "Did Cathy mention the painting Kieran's doing for 
you? It's starting to come together, and it looks 
fantastic!"

"You mean the Lorelei? Oh, good, great - I could use 
some good news just now."

Sean gave a crooked grin, lowering his voice. "So he 
told you about the Lorelei, eh? What do you think?"

I shook my head. "I don't believe it, but I'd never 
betray his trust, it seems like he believes it happened, 
whether it really did or not."

"Yeah, I found it pretty hard to believe too," he 
agreed, "until he showed me the shirt she ripped. He's 
still got it. And I remember that fish he brought home 
that day, we never had a catch like that before or 
since."

"What?" I stared at Sean, disbelief renewed. "Oh, come 
on Sean, who's to say...he could have slashed his shirt 
with a stanley knife, and got the fish from the 
markets!"

Sean shrugged. "He's my brother, and I believe him. He's 
not as cracked as people make out, or he pretends to be. 
You gonna come over Thursday?"

"Um, I'm not sure yet. Cathy told me if I do to bring 
along chocolate or alcohol to make an offering to the 
Monster, as she calls him."

***

Yeah, well, call me a sucker for temptation. Right up 
until Thursday evening I wasn't going to go smut-
surfing, until the moment Cathy rang and asked if I 
wanted a lift up there, and I said "Sure!" before 
grabbing a jumbo block of rum 'n' raisin from a stand at 
the servo.

It really was Ladies' Night, for Sean left us alone in 
Kieran's office to surf for eye-candy. She already knew 
"the best places" to find what we liked - male nudes and 
gorgeous consenting couples going for it. As for the 
chocolate, we ended up eating most of it ourselves. "We 
should get Lyn in on this," Cathy said.

"Oh please, not after this week! So much for Miss I-
Hate-Sex," I grunted.

"Do you really think she's got the hots for Renton?" 
Cathy wondered. "I think she's all talk, like, if it 
came to the main event, she'd suddenly get really cold 
feet, like freezing cold. She'd never go through with 
it."

"I don't know, I don't want to know, and I don't 
particularly care," I snorted. "First Russ, and now 
this. I've had it up to here with her!"

Cathy cast me a sidelong glance. "You wouldn't be a 
teensy-weensy bit jealous, would you?"

"What, me? I don't want Renton, I don't think he's sexy 
at all! Not only did I have Lyn going on at me about 
their date last week in one ear, he wanted to tell me 
about it too! I have had ENOUGH!" In need of major 
distraction, I jabbed a finger at one of the on-screen 
thumbnails. "Ooh, look at him, download that one, I 
wanna see that!"

I wondered at Sean quietly sitting indoors reading and 
watching telly while we did our thing. It was a 
wonderful, wicked and fascinating night on which I saw 
things I'd only ever imagined, ineptly at that, before. 
Most of it was incredibly erotic; some of it made us 
both go "Eww!" and scroll past quickly. Cathy stayed on 
after we quit, and I got a cab home to gaze at the 
picture Kieran had given me, and masturbate like mad. No 
wonder Sean was waiting patiently, Cathy must have been 
fit to hammer him to a pulp.

The one thing I hadn't seen that evening was Kieran 
himself. I saw him more often at the service station, 
topping up his bike, or getting fuel for Sean's tinny, 
or getting dive bottles charged at my brother's jetty. 
Where once he would have ignored me, now he nodded 
acknowledgement, and spoke when he wasn't just passing 
through. "Inspiration," he said of the scuba tanks; he 
had lately become a diving enthusiast.

"Really?" I teased. "You sure it's not another way of 
looking for her?"

A big grin creased his face, an expression dazzling for 
its rarity and the way it lit up his gruff, craggy face. 
"All right, you get a point. But the underwater world 
does give me new ideas to work on, too." Then he drew 
back a step and overtly eyed me up and down. "You 
wouldn't happen to have a long black steamer, would 
you?"

"What? Ohh, no, no way would I dress up as the Lorelei, 
uh-uh!"

"No, you're right," he agreed. "You're nothing like the 
Lorelei, she never said a word; never bitched or 
complained..."

"Oh thanks a lot, you mongrel!"

There was pure sport in his eyes, warmth on his face. 
"You could pose for me and I could paint you."

"No way!"

"I don't mean paint your picture, I mean paint *you*, 
paint you black with a big sable brush, then while you 
were still wet roll you in a vat of sequins..."

"You are *sick*!" I cried, and we both laughed then.

"Actually," he said as we sobered, "I've done a few 
preliminary sketches for your painting. You should have 
a look and see which one you like best, and I'll make up 
the finished work from that one. Busy on the weekend? 
I'm a bit too busy Thursday night to catch up with you."

"I'll be at the station all weekend. Can I get a lift?" 
There had been too many weird weekends of late, and I'd 
hoped for an uncomplicated one that would also earn me 
some pocketmoney. Cathy and Sean would be hanging 
together as usual, and Lyn and Renton I didn't care to 
think on. If Kieran wanted my company, he could come and 
fetch me.

"Alright," was all he said, and with a nod he went on 
his way. It occurred to me as he walked away that being 
sighted perched behind him on his bike would be no bad 
publicity around the school grapevine. At least I might 
look worldly, if the truth was rather different. And you 
know what, his butt looked good in those black jeans of 
his. I hadn't noticed just how good before.

Saturday at the fuelstop started difficultly. Renton 
found me there, having pounded down the road on his 
bicycle for "last minute" supplies should Lyn decide to 
visit him. He bought a couple of big bottles of mineral 
water and, yes, a box of condoms, which I thought was 
going rather overboard as I knew Lyn took the Pill. His 
face was as red as his hair, and we made a few joking 
remarks about how condoms were never sold in a "Small" 
size category. But seriously, how likely did I think it 
was that Lyn would visit him? "Don't get your hopes up," 
I drawled. "Talk isn't action."

By the time he rushed off again, to go home and wait and 
wait, I was feeling shirty and bilious with jealousy. 
Then Kieran pulled up on his bike, pointed at me and 
then the back of his bike. I threw my hands in the air, 
angry already, and strutted off to get the go-kart 
helmet. The sooner this was over the better. What I 
really wanted to do was go home and look at that penis 
picture, and escape my boredom and loneliness there.

"Drink?" he asked when we arrived at the house. "Cola, 
soda, beer?" Then he bent to pat the cat, who had run 
jingling out to greet him.

"No, thanks. I can't be gone from the shop long." Which 
wasn't true. I strode past him and around the front of 
the house, toward the workshop, assuming the pictures 
would be there that I had come to see. "I'll have a 
quick look, but can't stay too long." I was in too bad a 
mood to want to have much to do with anyone.

He had crouched by Scrote and looked up at me standing, 
hand on hip, waiting expectantly. A dark grin crept 
across his face.

"Hold that pose."

"Eh?"

"Naturally imperious, demanding. Perfect."

"Cut it out!" I snapped, tossing my head. His grin only 
widened, but he rose and went past me. Industrial 
sounds, fans and whines and whizzes, and tinny rock 
music blared, both from his workshop and the other 
nearby warehouses, a busy Saturday morning. Once into 
the office, he bat a hand at one of his wall-display 
boards as he went to check the fax and answering 
machine.

"Take your time and tell me which one you think is 
best," he said offhandedly. He was wearing overalls 
today and everything had a painty smell. I groaned. As 
Sean had promised, for development sketches these were 
remarkable - the trouble was, there were eight of them, 
and so far as I could see they were all excellent.

"I don't know!"

"Look, it's a simple question - which one do you like 
best?"

"Toss them up in the air and pick up the first one that 
lands, Kieran, they're all fantastic and it really 
wouldn't matter which one you did."

"Take a good look at each one, take your time," he 
insisted. He had sat at his desk and was looking at a 
sketchpad, a pencil scratching with swift movements.

"Ohh look, eeny-meenie-miny-mo..."

"My, my, we are in a mood this weekend!"

"Third one over, middle there," I said off the top of my 
head and very shortly.

"You don't really give a shit, do you?" he asked slowly, 
still working. "I take the time out to go and fetch you. 
Now you stand here dithering and grumbling and clearly 
not wanting to be here."

I sighed. "Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."

"I'm trying to do you a favour, and offering you some 
choice in the matter, and all you can do is sulk. If I 
were to make a choice for you, next week you'd fly off 
the handle because I was painting the wrong one, not the 
one you liked best." Still he didn't frown at me, but at 
his work.

"Like you care either!" I retorted. "You'd rather be 
working too, just look at you!"

He smiled, glancing up briefly. "You need a hazmat sign 
given your mood right now. I'm taking advantage of you, 
that's what I'm doing." While I wondered what he meant, 
he gave his sketch a few quick flourishes, then turned 
the pad around. He'd drawn my own face.

"Aww, man..."

"Had to grab the chance. Don't think you're the type 
with enough patience to sit around. Now, take several 
deep breaths, and I'll make this easier for you." He 
swung out of his chair and brushed past me to the board, 
unpinning and taking down all but three of the Lorelei 
pictures. "There. These are the three I believe have the 
most artistic merit. Back to you, ma'am. The customer is 
always right."

"Sorry," I said again, standing beside him, closer to 
the board, to look up at the Lorelei. He looked down at 
me, his face serious, dark eyes keen but not unkind. His 
nose was nicely chiselled, and I could see the lay of 
every whisker on his unshaven chin, and wondered what 
those bristles would feel like. "I'm just...for years, 
it's been easy. On the weekend a girl should hang out 
with her friends, but now they've all got much more 
important friends than me. They're all going steady, 
making out, doing things I've never done, and it shits 
me."

"Poor poor pitiful me, woe is Jo, nobody loves her."

I looked sharply at him again, but he wasn't mocking me. 
His smile had a reflective quality. Above me, the 
Lorelei smiled knowingly. "Now I'm being pathetic. She 
makes me feel childish," I muttered.

"When all you want to do is be grown-up."

"She helped you grow up," I said slowly, wondering what 
he thought of, locking my gaze with his. He nodded 
fractionally.

"You...believe me, don't you?" he said, and I tore my 
eyes from his.

"I don't know, Kieran," I said with a gentle laugh. Then 
I looked up at the pictures again. Now that my blood had 
cooled and my thoughts left my plight, I could see her 
better. "I like that one the best," I said honestly, of 
the Lorelei who gazed frank and steely straight out at 
the viewer.

"There. Wasn't so difficult, was it?" There was 
satisfaction in his voice as he reached up and took the 
one I chose down. The others he stacked neatly to one 
side for later filing. "Well, I'll run you back to your 
shop, then."

Back to my misery, dwelling on myself? "You are busy, 
aren't you?" I said, taking in his paint-hazed overalls.

"I don't have to be, that's the beauty of being my own 
boss. What do you think I spend Thursday nights doing, 
pubbing and clubbing? Oh please!" He batted a hand 
toward the house. "Go, get yourself a drink while I sort 
a few loose ends here. Then, how 'bout we go for a ride, 
I mean a real ride, out to the countryside, get right 
out of town for a while?"

A much better idea. I went to the back of the house, 
taking a moment to pat the cat, and look at the model 
fantasy garden. For a time I gazed at the slick, deep 
green surface of the creek, glistening like oil just 
beyond the old jetty. A strange buzzing gathered in my 
ears, as if the air pressure had just risen and they 
needed to pop. I found myself gazing at the motionless 
tyre-swing, and thinking of the cat-skull and wanting to 
throw it into the water. For a while it was all that I 
could think of. I even took two steps back toward the 
workshop, knowing full well where to find it. The only 
thing that stopped me was knowing Kieran was still in 
his office. Maybe I could sneak back in and get it while 
he was at the computer or in the workshop, or somehow 
otherwise occupied.

No, maybe some other time. Maybe Thursday when he was 
busy and I was there to smut-surf. I promised myself I'd 
get rid of it then, although part of me yearned to go 
and grab the thing now. Instead, with strangely leaden 
feet, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a cola. Before 
long an iron door banged. Kieran strolled across the 
yard and came through the kitchen, on his way to his 
room. "Normally I'd drop my gear in the laundry, but 
seeing as there's company..."

"No smart remarks about me liking to watch, then?" I 
declared, arms akimbo. He didn't normally pass up a 
chance to taunt me about my voyeurism.

He paused, that sly grin returning. "How could I forget? 
What's one more naked guy to you?" Standing in the 
kitchen doorway, he tugged open the studs of his 
overalls, shoulders working as he shrugged his way out 
of the sleeves. I had taken a breath, but resolved to 
match his challenge by watching him without flinching. 
And he was in great shape, with smooth but not over-
bulky pecs that I could wish to run my hands over, and a 
properly manly amount of dark chest hair to highlight 
the lines of his torso. He dropped the gear and stepped 
out, stripping down to jocks and socks, turning to toss 
the coveralls into the laundry. His black undies had 
seen better days, and one side-seam had parted in a big 
hole. His lean back was highlighted, and well-fleshed 
thighs held my eye as he straightened up and faced me.

"So, is this the part where I flop it out?" he grinned.

"Don't you dare!" I snapped; laughing, he went to the 
fridge and grabbed another cola. "I'll get you some new 
undies for Xmas."

"Argh, a pox on all the mothers of the world who 
browbeat their kids with Wear Nice Undies!"

I couldn't not look. Had to. At that pouch-shape in 
front, to wonder at its contents, and how everything was 
laying. Lumps and bumps. Now that I knew much more of 
how naked men looked, it was easier to guess at what was 
beneath...but still exciting to wonder. What was more, 
there was definitely more of him to one side. He seemed 
to be sticking out. Was he...excited? The thought made 
my heart race. Excited over me?

There was a slight smile on his face as he watched me 
watch him. He set his can down. "Sometimes I think too 
much about her. 'Specially when I see you in those 
shorts."

My damn bike shorts, the same ones I'd worn on that day 
with Mitch! Yes, I was wearing them today. "Well," I 
said carefully, "underneath them I'm nothing like her, 
so don't get any funny notions!"

"Nothing funny about my notions," he murmured, ambling 
out of the kitchen and into the house. I sucked 
nervously at my cola can, suddenly wondering. I was 
alone with an eccentric guy - what if things became 
threatening? And yet, that certain electric tingle had 
awoken in my crotch.

When he returned dressed in jeans, shirt and jacket, I 
felt somewhat let down.

***

We rode out of town and onto the freeway, where he let 
the bike have its head and we flew at illegal speed 
along the tarmac. It was breathtaking, exciting, and 
very freeing. My troubles were left well behind, and the 
mundanity of my daily existence. Suddenly the woes of a 
teenage girl amounted to very little, if only we could 
have kept going and going.

At the Destiny Bay junction we took a side route that 
followed the old, derelict highway, a twisting route 
that took us along spectacular coastal views, through 
deep green rainforest. Eventually, we pulled up at an 
unkempt and little-remarked park atop Cape Seaford, 
shared only with a couple of parked caravans. Kieran 
hung up his helmet and walked toward the end of the 
bluff, so I followed; past a pair of ancient grey nomads 
who sipped tea from a thermos and threw scraps to the 
gulls, and a couple of fishermen sauntering home.  There 
was a small obelisk up on the point, and one of those 
disc-shaped brass maps that show the directions and 
distances to prominent landmarks and important towns. I 
paused to check it out, Kieran going ahead and stepping 
up onto a large, flat-topped boulder carved by wind and 
rain.

To our south, back along the coast and hazed blue with 
distance, I could see the lighthouse. _Lorelei Point_ 
was engraved in the brass beside one of the arrows. With 
his hands on his hips, jacket flapping in the seabreeze, 
Kieran gazed at the panorama.

I stepped up beside him. "Is she out there?" I asked. 
With a smile and a laugh, he shook his head. Then he 
looked at me.

"Think you'll ever go back out to your cave?"

"No. It served its purpose, and it's gone now anyway."

"She got her sanctuary back," Kieran thought aloud. "She 
sorted me out, Sean, Cathy and you. Sucked up enough 
innocence to last her another whole generation."

"I thought it was _my_ sanctuary," I said. "But I was a 
kid then. Before the cave collapsed."

"I thought it was my sanctuary too," Kieran agreed.

"Aside from the obvious," I asked carefully, "what did 
you learn there?" I'd learned about sex, and danger, and 
moral dilemma, and friendship. My ten-year-old had died.

He took a long time to answer, and his nostrils flared 
as he drew a deep breath. "Well...I learned that it was 
possible for somebody to want me. The scared skinny 
weird kid wasn't without a hope after all."

He'd always had the tough-guy reputation, the tearaway. 
But I'd seen the weird kid brandish his skull-charm. 
Again, the deep buzzing rang in my ears. Thursday night 
- must get rid of hideous cat-thing, get rid of...

"You all right?" he asked quizzically. I startled.

"Pardon? Sorry, I must have been halfway out to sea." I 
yanked the tangled black tendrils of my hair out of my 
face, but the wind kept pushing it across like kelp 
wrack.

"You vagued right out for a minute."

"I'm okay," I shrugged.

"Come on." He hopped down from the rock, then offered me 
a hand. I pride myself on being a mountain goat amidst 
the rocks, and managed to make a real goat of myself 
getting down, unused to having someone offer a hand. I 
ended up half-falling, not far, so that I grabbed at his 
shoulders while he caught my waist and steadied me. I 
flushed scarlet for clumsiness and the intimacy of our 
contact. Did his hands linger on the black lycra? We 
stood for a moment like that.

"Am I, um, like, desirable?" I blurted.

"I don't know if the Lorelei does girls," he said 
evasively.

"That's what I need, a male Lorelei!"

"I think I've got a black steamer and some flippers 
somewhere," he grinned. His hands squeezed my waist 
briefly, then he stepped back and glanced at his bike. 
"Or a brush and a bloody big can of black paint. Come 
on, we should ride some more. Take the long road home, 
yeah?"

"As long as possible."

***

I didn't want it to end. Being with him that day, I felt 
five years more mature, taken far away from schoolgirl 
gossip and teen dramas. Looking back at Lorelei Point 
was to see that already, the things that had happened 
there were fading into experience. But I wanted more!

I wished that he had held me close rather than stepping 
away, and wondered how he kissed. Wondered did he want 
me. Dreamed that I could pretend to be the Lorelei, and 
he would be unable to resist me. Could I find some way 
to go diving with him, in a black wetsuit?

Sure, there was heaps more to growing up than simply 
having sex for the first time. But I felt like Cathy had 
left me standing. Thinking of Kieran, I recalled 
Renton's words to Lyn. "Start by finding yourself an 
older, experienced man...over-twenty, preferably a 
bachelor..."

Kieran dropped me off at the servo with little more 
acknowledgement than a nod as he rode away. But by the 
evening my imagination had ramped up to overdrive. I 
didn't even pull out my favourite picture to look at 
before going to bed that night; I lay in bed with a 
weird mishmash of fantasy and memories of the day 
flashing through my head. I lay on my stomach with a 
rolled-up sports sock under my belly and tried to 
imagine what it would feel like had he pulled me close 
rather than walking off and getting dressed. Tried, but 
still couldn't quite imagine what had been under those 
jocks.  Thought of some of the wry and funny things he'd 
said that day. Wished it had been him and me on the 
beach at Lorelei Point that day, not Sean and Cathy. 
Tucked the sock inside my knickers and rubbed against it 
until that throbbing, forbidden pleasure came.

The next day, I no longer felt so angry about Lyn or 
Renton. I had someone else to think much more pleasant 
thoughts about. Feeling magnanimous, I even tried to 
phone Lyn, but it seemed she was out and her younger 
brother didn't know where she was, shopping or something 
dumb like that. They'd leave a message for her to call 
me.

Eventually, I did something whimsical, something I 
hadn't done since hitting puberty and becoming too 
"cool" to bother with it anymore. Down at my brother's 
wharf, I pulled out the kayak from under his shed. It 
was scratched, scraped and faded, but it still floated, 
the estuary water cool beneath me as I slid down into 
its hull. My body remembered the rhythm of paddling as 
though I'd never been away, body-sway in counterpoint to 
the paddle dipping, left-right-left...gliding onto the 
chop of the bay, then around Parker's Point into 
smoother water. Once again, I was free, to travel 
anyplace I chose on the broadwater and its myriad 
channels and tributaries. With a wry smile on my face, I 
knew where I was going. _ If I fail to keep your trust, 
my kayak will split and sink for no apparent reason with 
me aboard,_ I'd said to Kieran, and it made me laugh. I 
paddled up the creek that came from the industrial 
district, even going under the low rail viaduct, beyond 
which the creek's lush banks drew in very close, the 
mangroves looming and closing in overhead. Sunshine 
lanced in spears through the sluggish, oily water, 
highlighting tree-roots and decaying junk, all carpeted 
with rusty shag-pile algae, and passing a few inches 
beneath my hull.

The buzz of insects and shrill of cicadas bled together 
into a chirring vibration within the bones of my ears. 
The creek was barely wide enough to spin the kayak 
around in, and I wondered how I'd managed to get away so 
quickly all those years ago.

_must get rid of cat-skull, stupid bloody thing, must 
get rid of..._

I laughed gently, but couldn't not feel a shiver up my 
spine as my ears buzzed. There was the old dock, the 
bleached bones of its rotting timbers; the pallid, 
motionless ring of the tyre-swing. None of it looked 
safe to try climbing ashore from - and anyway, what 
would I say to Kieran if he was there? He'd spent most 
of yesterday with me; I'd probably worn out my welcome.

_Thursday, all right, I'll get rid of it Thursday, shut 
up!_ I scolded that chant in my head.

Wouldn't destroying Kieran's precious charm constitute a 
betrayal of his trust?

My heart lurched. Very slowly, I dipped the paddles in 
reverse, not sure I should attempt turning and risk 
snagging the kayak on the bank. Could I feel wetness 
against the backs of my calves? I reversed under the 
viaduct, then turned and paddled quickly for the 
broadwater. Superstitious perhaps, but better safe than 
sorry.

By the time I got back to the wharf, I was sitting in a 
considerable puddle. That was when my brother cheerfully 
informed me the old kayak had a very fine split in the 
fibreglass beneath the waterline that he hadn't gotten 
around to fixing yet, because he didn't think I used it 
anymore.

***

What was right, and what was wrong? I fancied Kieran and 
wanted him to want me; yet I was still, even now, 
determined on Thursday night to get rid of that ugly 
relic of his boyhood. How could I seriously expect him 
to want me after I betrayed him?

I didn't like to think of the leaky kayak, it gave me 
the creeps and pricked my conscience besides.

Late in the day, Lyn rang, and gave me something else to 
think about.







  
lorelei b