INDIAN WINTER (Part 6)


By KATZMAREK ©


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Author's note,


This work is my property and cannot be used for gain without my express permission in writing.


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Jake sat discretely at the back of the auction. It was held in a cleared space in the mart, but, even so, there was not enough room for those wishing to attend.


He'd had an avalanche of proposals at the last moment from big companies wanting to do a deal. There were oil companies, chain stores, land developers and just those on the make. Everyone could see, apparently, what Jake had missed: the size and location of the property was something that rarely came up and would garner a frenzy of interest.


It wasn't so much the present value, but it's potential, that so sent businessmen frothing at the mouth. The site didn't warrant a K-Mart, now, but in the future? Chain stores wanted the property for no other reason than to deny their competitors the use of it.


The bids gradually climbed past the reserve and Jake began to calculate the net. The noughts ticked over with bewildering speed and he could barely stop himself from yelling out his excitement. This was much better than a horse race. In this race, he owned all the horses and couldn't lose. Money, he thought, shouldn't be this easy to make.


"4,2 once," the auctioneer called.


"4.2?" he asked the man beside him, "4.2 what?"


The man looked at him as if he was an idiot. His eyes travelled down to his belt in a look of arrogance and condescension. "4 million two hundred thousand dollars," the man said in a clipped, 'proper,' public school accent.


"4.2 twice." Jake held his breath. "Do I have 4.3... yes, I have. The bid is 4.3."


"4 point fucking three million dollars?" Jake yelled, excitedly. The man next to him gave him a look of utter disdain.


"4.4... yes, I have 4.4. Any advance on 4.4, gentlemen and ladies? 5? Do I hear 5 million over there, sir? Yes, I have a bid for 5 million dollars."


Jake looked around quickly to check he hadn't accidently bid on his own building. He hadn't, it was the wanker sitting beside him. Clearly the man thought him a rubbernecker, or worse, a reporter!


"5.1... .2... .3... I have 5.3. 5.4, sir? Ah, 6, over there? The bid now stands at 6 million dollars!"


This was unprecedented in the town and he could see people shuffling and talking excitedly to each other. Even the prick next to Jake looked stunned at the bidding price. At seven, he shook his head, got up and left. Obviously there were a couple of bidders who desperately wanted the property and were prepared to pay well over the market to get it. Such a situation was like Eden, Paradise and Nirvana rolled into one... like an orgasm that went on all day?


Jake watched the crowd gasp and yell and tap furiously on their mobiles. A man stood and called out '7 point 5' so loudly Jake thought he was trying to intimidate everyone into silence.


"Ten!" yelled a punter from the other side of the room and the first man subsided. Obviously this was way over what he'd been authorised to bid and he slumped over, cellphone to his ear.


"Ten, once? Ten, twice?" called the auctioneer. Jake held his breath again, as did everyone in the room. Was this the climax of this insanity? "Ten five, over there? Yes, I have ten point five million dollars."


The punter at the side shook his head vigourously. The sound died and you could hear nothing but the beep of cellphones texting. "Ten, five once? Twice... sold to the gentleman over there. Congratulations, sir, would you give your name to my assistant?"


There was a rush to the door by journalists and agents trying to be the first to get the story out. Others just stood around talking or scratching their heads in amazement. Someone came up and pumped Jake's hand until it threatened to fall off. Another asked what it felt like to be a millionaire, ten times over? His back ached from being slapped by strangers wanting to get close to the town's newest multimillionaire. Someone even pressed a business card into his hand and suggested they 'have a little chat.' He stared at it, he was an investment consultant.


'Typical,' he thought, no sooner had he made a fortune than someone comes along to help him spend it.


He managed to escape the scrum half an hour later. By then, he desperately wanted to hide. His home was out of bounds, two reporters had stationed themselves by front of the door. He called Mary and explained his predicament. She told him to hide in her cottage, that a key was under the pot by the back door.


Mary was working at the Refuge and wouldn't be home until late. Jake bought some groceries, cooked a meal, left some supper for Mary, and put himself to bed with her TV.


When he woke, it was morning and Mary was sound asleep beside him. The plate he'd left her was empty beside the bed and there was a glass of wine, half full, on the bedside table. He rose, washed, and went to fix them both some breakfast. He liked the domestic scene, one he'd never experienced with Sharmila. She was sitting up when he returned, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Jake put the tray on the bed and climbed in beside her.


"Time?" she asked in a sleepy voice.


"Seven," he told her, and she groaned.


"I'm not going in today," she announced, "be a dear and bring me my phone? It's on the table in the lounge."


"Y'sick?" he asked, concerned.


"Hard night... bloody husbands, who'd have one?"


"Your's?" he asked.


"Hell no!" she gasped in mock shock, "just some moron a client of mine's saddled herself with. Silly bitch has no idea how to pick them. He gets home and slaps her around over a piece of shell in his omelette. I'd have shoved it up his flabby arse, pan and all."


"Doesn't sound like you're keeping your professional distance?" Jake told her, smiling, as he returned with her phone.


"Well, fuck, can you blame me? It just goes on and on, repeating the same pattern and I'm sick to death with it all. I feel like taking some of them by the scruff of their necks and shaking the shit out of them. 'Wake up, fuck you? Don't you realise you're worth more than this'?"


"Shit! Mary, take it easy!"


"I'm sorry, Jake. Here's you being such a honey and I'm spitting venom at the male species. I guess I'm not in a good space for you at the moment. There you go and make ten million dollars and all I can do is bitch about work."


"Nah, I'm glad you can trust me enough to moan to."


"Jesus, Jake, I'm going to close my eyes and you're going to disappear in a hiss of fairy dust. Where the fuck did you come from? And good in bed, too? What did I do to deserve this?" she asked looking upwards, "I ask for a fuck and you send me a saint?"


"You're funny!" he laughed, bent and kissed her.


"So, moneybags, hop up here and tell me what it's like to be a godzillionaire?"


"Aw, not you, too?" he laughed.


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It'd been a month since Sharmila had walked out of his life. In that time he hadn't seen nor heard from her. Upon the notification of the auction, however, he received a letter from an accountant acting on her behalf. It reminded him of his obligation to pay her bill on settlement of the property. He passed it on to his own accountant and asked him to deal with it.


But she'd made a mistake by bailing from the project early. Sharmila had demanded $80,000, based on an estimate of the eventual sale price. The property, however, had gone for 5 times that: much more, it was true, than anyone expected. If she'd hung on, she could've demanded over half a million dollars. His accountant, however, assured him she'd settled on a fixed, cash fee by the letter and couldn't come back afterwards crying 'foul.'


'Sharmila can make mistakes!' he told himself, and some of the awe he had for her disappeared.


He half expected her to turn up once the property was sold. He kind of thought she'd want to come and spend some of his profit. But, to her credit, she hadn't arrived on his doorstep, nor even phoned a congratulation.


Meanwhile, after that first night, Mary decided she really did have some room in her life for 'an occasional squeeze.' Soon he was staying most weekends, fixing up her garden, and cooking her meals as she did her volunteer work. He even got her working with him in the garden.


Her visiting friends soon accepted them as a couple. Mary took a little longer but gradually came round to the idea. She missed him during the week when he was away and looked forward to Friday when his grey Camino would crunch into her driveway.


Jake often brought her dinner, and they would share it, and a bottle of wine, in bed. Sometimes he would bring her ice cream and cherrys, and they would spoon feed each other. Naturally, this led on to tasting each others mouths.


Mary and Jake's lovemaking became deeply romantic and, despite her 'non-attachment principles,' she found herself becoming hopelessly besotted.


Jake made it easy for her to love, she decided. He was always calm when she came home stressed and gave her wonderful massages. He was placid and self-sufficient. Years of living by himself had honed domestic skills and he could cook, clean up after himself and, above all, put down the toilet seat.


Her innate scepticism saw her searching for flaws in his personality. There were some, she decided, but they were so trivial it hardly mattered.


Jake wasn't particularly spontaneous and preferred order and routine. She guessed that stood him in good stead in business and in life. He was a detail person, whereas she preferred the broader picture. Mary imagined them painting a picture together where she provided the inspiration and outline and he painted in the fiddly bits.


He fussed over her garden and, she had to admit, he made a good job, albeit a little too formal for her taste. She preferred a little disorder and growth, but her lawn became manicured and her flowerbeds neat rows of bedding plants. Mary knew how to negotiate, however, and he left a special place just for her. It was a corner with a trellis and overgrown shrubs where she could hang chimebells on the bending branches and a chinese lantern on a hook.


He was now exceedingly rich, but that didn't seem to change him. He disposed of most of the stock from his mart. He described it as 'pulling teeth,' but he steeled himself and held a fire sale. Much of it went to the dump, or the Salvation Army and some to Mary's refuge for the use of her clients. Jake kept his favourite pieces, the more valuable antiques, and hired a garage nearby to store them. His firearms required greater security and he moved them, and their vault, into Mary's garden shed.


He even kept his Camino, although he could well afford a Bentley without affecting his financial position in the slightest. He told her he was used to it, knew its maintenance history, found it reliable, and it still had years of useful service left in it. Most of his money had been stowed away in investments through a blind trust. He explained he'd rather pay someone to sweat over it rather than giving him heartburn. It paid him a couple of hundred thousand a year spending money and he could pull out any capital expenditure any time he liked. In short, he was set up for the rest of his life and had no need to work if he didn't want to.


After he was living for a while in a hotel following the sale of his mart, Mary decided there was no good reason why he couldn't move in with her permanently. He was staying most of the time anyway, and it was an easy move. Her bedroom was a little more cluttered since he hauled in his free-standing wardrobe, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. He cooked, cleaned, and fucked her beautifully. What more could a woman want?


She knew they were going through their 'honeymoon period,' where all was lust and euphoria. She knew that, over time, their 'ego boundaries' would reassert themselves and they would require some 're-evaluation.' But, as they sat together in her old tub and soaped each others hair, none of that seemed to matter. For once in a long time, she was blissfully happy with the situation. Jake was an angel and she was deeply in love with him.


She learned to raise her legs and place them on his shoulders. He'd kneel on the floor when he went down on her. He found the angle easier on his jaw and tongue. He knew her sweetspot, now, but he also learned to tease, to titilate her, until she began to grind in frustration. He'd then bring her to a peak till she would explode with wonderful, deep orgasms. Mary was certain no-one had ever lapped her so well before.


Mary called it her 'honey stick,' and she loved to watch him brace himself when she gave him long, slow, blow jobs. She'd smother it in kisses, lick the bulb until he flinched, before slowly sucking down the length. Mostly it was a preliminary before fucking, but sometimes she brought him off just to watch him spurt over her shoulder. No, she didn't swallow. That was just a male fantasy and she wondered why any woman would want to chow down on semen. He didn't seem to mind. She was practiced and skilful and she delighted in bringing him off this way.


Jake would get horny at unexpected times. One day, he was watching her in the garden. She was bent over, weeding, and he came up behind her and stroked her bottom. Mary had on some old khaki, bargain store trousers that stetched when she bent and left a gap between her shirt and waistband. He found he could insert his hand through the gap easily, and push right down to the crack of her arse.


She looked at him with mock disapproval, but he kept his hand in place and squeezed her cheeks.


"What are you after?" she grinned. In response he bent over her, nuzzled her neck, and thrust his fingers right down to her crotch. "Whoah!" she gasped, "easy, big boy! I almost stabbed myself with the fork."


Jake looked around to check they couldn't be seen from the road before continuing to molest her. "Get off!" she laughed, "get your hand out of there!" He persisted, however, and eventually she accepted a passionate kiss. "Mmm, baby," she said, "you wanna go inside?"


"No, here!" he insisted, his breathing quickening.


"What, in the garden? You dirty bastard!" She felt his hand snatching at her belt and she helped him undo the buckle. She touched him with the back of her hand and found he was as hard as a rock. Something had clearly touched him off, but she didn't care. Already she felt cool air on her arse as he slid her trousers and panties down in one go. Still bent over, she reached between her legs to find he'd already got his cock out. He pushed and stabbed at her until she took the bulb and guided it into her.


Then he was in and stroking steadily, insistantly. He grabbed her hips and guided her to his rhythm. Her hand found his balls and she teased them with her fingertips.


"Oh baby, you're the greatest!" she sighed.


"You like this?" he whispered, "from behind... here?"


"Anywhere, baby, just keep fucking!"


As he got more urgent, however, she put her hands up against the garden wall to stop from being driven forward.


"You gonna cum?" he asked, breathlessly.


"Soon, baby, nearly there... keep going... oh Jake!... uh... harder, baby... fuck me, Jake... oh... oh... fuck I love this... oh... now, Jake... come in me, Baby... ohhh... now... oh, Jake, Jake... uuuuhhhh... oh Jake... uuuuhhhh... oh baby, I love you so much... oooohhhh..."


Mary sat on her knees with her arse in the air, bare and glistening with moisture. Jake saw her shaking with laughter.


"You all right?" he asked.


"Yes, you fucker, of course I am!" she gasped out between chuckles. "That was crazy. I've never been fucked over a flowerbed before. God, Jake!"


"Yeah?"


"You're such a great lay! Just who taught you to fuck like that?"


"I dunno," he shrugged, "I just saw you there with your arse in the air and I thought..."


"You thought you'd just like to whip off my pants and fuck me over the garden?"


"Yeah, something like that."


"Jesus, Jake!" she smiled, pulling her trousers back up, "next time you have a thought like that give me some warning, huh?"


"You didn't like it?"


"I loved it, but I've torn my knickers. They were a good pair, too."


"I'll buy you a set."


"Maybe I'll just learn to leave them off," she laughed, "shit, Jake, you fucking horny toad!"


But she kissed him sweetly and suggested they get cleaned up together.


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Mary sat daydreaming as she waited for her next appointment. They were a regular couple who regularly missed appointments. She was pretty sure they wouldn't turn up again.


She thought about the sensational turn her life had taken. She was stunned, both by her own feelings and by this wonderful man that had suddenly entered her life. She wondered whether this was all a dream and she'd wake up soon. She thought about calling him, just to make sure, and to hear his voice. She decided not to. It would just distract her for the rest of the afternoon.


Her 'good sense' asked her what could go wrong? Nothing on earth could be this joyful without some cost. Perhaps it was the loss of her liberty? But, she was still free to do whatever she wanted, with the added bonus of Jake waiting patiently for her to get home. Often she'd be late and she looked for reproach in his expression. She saw none as yet, but she was sure it will come, eventually. Jake was too attached to the clock, was always punctual himself, so why wouldn't he fret when she wasn't home when he expected her?


There was one thing, though, that had the potential to interfere with their newfound bliss. Sharmila Devi had turned up again at the Woman's Refuge.


She hadn't been assaulted, this time, but she wasn't in good shape emotionally. She was sullen, depressed, and picked arguments with nearly everyone with her attitude. Sharmila was dropped off by another counsellor, who explained that some threats had been made towards her. She said that the Police were involved but wasn't at liberty to be more specific.


Mary was sure Sharmila was unaware of her and Jake's relationship. Other volunteers had been careful not to mention it and she was hardly going to raise the issue. Sharmila asked her whether she'd seen him lately, and she'd hedged, telling her, yes, she'd seen him around now and again.


Mary was glad she couldn't tell Jake either. She wasn't sure how he would react. She wondered whether there was any feeling still there. And whether she could still tie him in knots with her powerful sexuality.


She found herself comparing herself unfavourably with this dark, Indian woman. Despite her training, her experience, she found herself reacting like a jealous wife. 


She called him anyway.


"Jake?" he answered almost immediately, "just called to say I love you, baby."


"Yeah? So whose that between your legs?"


"Just you, baby, you dirty fucker!"


"You gonna be home for dinner?"


"I'll try, honey, but y'know..."


"Yeah, shit happens!"


"Sure... but I want to. I want to be with you above all else."


"I know, sweetheart. Keep the motor running till you get home, ok?"


"I will, babe, bye!"


"God!" Mary exclaimed to the empty office, "God, I love that man!"


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Jake contemplated his handiwork from the bottom of the garden. He thought about a pergola in the centre of the lawn and made a mental note to consult Mary. Some climbing roses would look nice there, he thought. He pulled a fat corona from his shirt pocket and lit it, puffing rings up into the still air.


It still seemed like a dream to him. Mary was a wonderful, fun-loving woman with a big heart and a refreshing sexual appetite. They'd tried more ways than he could remember, some had collapsed in laughter and absurdity, but others were innovative and exciting. She was up for anything, that woman.


Over the hawthorn was an ugly tin fence and a farmer's dairy paddock. The smell of manure was something he found hard to get used to. There was an eerie quiet about the countryside that disturbed him. He guessed he hadn't quite got used to the absence of traffic.


Even the main highway, barely a kilometre away, didn't disturb the peace here. The rush from it was muted by immense windrows and turned the sound into a constant low hum by the time it reached the cottage.


The area was wealthy and their neighbours consisted of doctors, lawyers and stockbrokers. But Jake hardly ever saw them except when they slid past in their Jaguars and Mercedes sports. Mary didn't know them either, except to wave to. On weekends, they hid themselves away on their 30 acre hobby farms or propped up bars at some yacht club.


Mary had bought the place long ago when it was so far out in the country only layabouts and hippies wanted to live there. Now the town was coming to meet them and it was fashionable to have 'a quiet place in the country.' There was now even a bus service, although mostly kids caught it. Most grown ups here would consider it beneath them to be seen on public transport.


Ironically, Jake was richer then most of them, yet he had little outward show of his wealth. He hadn't yet decided what to do with it all. But could things stay as they are: locked in some Eden with a wonderful woman companion? Common sense told him nothing ever remained stuck in time, that there had to be change to stave off boredom.


Kids were out of the question with Mary. She'd had her tubes tied long ago when she'd been married. She told him she'd had an ectopic pregnancy at university and she never wanted to go through that again. In any case, she said, she must have missed inheriting the mothering gene. Nothing interested her less than to have a screaming infant to take care of.


He suddenly thought of Sharmila and wondered how her pregnancy was going. He figured she must be showing a small bump by now. Strange, he'd kind of geared himself up to be a father to the kid before she'd upped and left. He felt a pang of sadness about that. He thought he would've made a good parent.


But she was well out of the picture now, he thought, and he'd just have to get used to that.


Jake went inside, stubbing the cigar out on the old tin lid Mary left for him by the back door. She couldn't stand the smell of smoke and complained when she could sense it on his clothes. He'd only recently taken up cigars and she disapproved.


Jake thought such little expressions of independence were important and she agreed. But she also told him she had a right to nag him about it.


He looked at his old Timex and calculated Mary wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. He fully expected she'd be late by up to an hour. Jake wondered how he was going to fill in the time. He'd pretty much finished the garden and it was getting dark. There was nothing on television he wanted to watch and Mary had few movies.


Jake's porno DVDs had been sold to a dealer. Mary hadn't wanted them in her house and he'd complied with her wishes. He had a few other movies but he'd already watched them a hundred times. In any case, he didn't really want to glare at a screen.


They had hundreds of books together, but her's were mostly 'women's literature' and his, arm's catelogues and military history. His were all well leafed through and her's weren't quite his cup of tea.


He looked around the room: her room, he decided, with a few of his things intruding. Mary had shuffled a little to the side to accommodate him. He didn't blame her in the least. How would he feel if she had moved into his apartment and took over? The garden was something she was content to leave to Jake because the maintenance didn't interest her that much. But the cottage was her space and he just roomed there.


Most of his old furniture was beyond redemption and went to the dump. His favourite rocking chair he'd rescued and he suffered Mary to find a cover for it to mask the holes in the upholstery.


Jake thought of buying one of those swanky, ranch-style extravaganzas down the lane so they could set up a proper joint home together. He doubted, though, whether she could part from the cottage. It had been with her so long she'd grown as one with the shabby woodwork.


But what would he do in one of those wanker estates anyway? They were all glass and polished veneer and even the tongue and groove had a fake quality about it. The cottage was more to his taste. He just wanted to be a little more part of it.


He'd settled into his rocking chair and snatched a catelogue he'd read a thousand times when the phone rang. He had to get up to it. It was one of those novelty things that looked old, but wasn't.


"Darling... be home soon," Mary said, "I'm escaping... had enough!" There was lots of voices in the background like she was in the middle of a party.


"Kay, honey, where are you? Need a lift?"


"I'm at the bus station... can't hear... there's a sidewalk bar nearby."


"See you soon. Love you!"


"Love you, bye!"


With that, Jake sprang into action to cook dinner. He hadn't planned on her being home so soon and he'd nothing prepared.


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Sharmila had needed to get out of the atmosphere of the Refuge for a while. She was supposed to tell someone and sign out but she did neither. She chaffed against the rules, here, and she could look after herself.


The Refuge could be a depressing place to be. She normally had to share a room with another woman but she'd managed to get one by herself. She couldn't stand listening to someone complaining all day. Then there were the kids. They wandered all over and intruded on people's privacy. Yes, she hated it there, but it served a purpose from time to time.


She slipped out when no-one was watching. It was easy as Hell as anyone noticing assumed she was just ducking out to the shop. She walked a block before she felt relaxed. 


It was then that she saw her old counsellor, Mary, waiting at a bus stop. She was unmistakeable with her bright red hair like some freak. Mary was talking on her cellphone, hunching over like it was hard to hear.


Sharmila had seen her at the Refuge and knew she still worked there. She'd hardly spoken to her, though. There'd been too much bad blood between them. Hadn't she screwed up her relationship with Jake?


A wave of regret and self-reproach coursed through her veins. Jake was a decent man: an ideal man for her in many ways. He'd have made a good father to her baby, too. Why had she given him up so easily? Just on the sly words of an interferring counsellor with some other agenda?


Jake, she knew, had made an awful lot of money from the sale of his property. That had been her idea all along and sharp accountants had screwed her out of her fair share of the profit. She'd put in all the work and everyone had creamed their slice except her.


She didn't really blame Jake for anything. She knew what a shark tank the commercial world could be. She blamed the middle men, the sharp professionals, that had made a pile out of her work at her expense. Sharmila knew Jake would give her anything she asked for. That's the kind of man he is, easy going to a fault.


She stood and watched Mary from a doorway as she waited for the crowded commuter bus. She was pretty sure she knew where Jake had moved to but she wasn't telling. Mary told her it was confidential but she didn't buy it.


Mary had changed subtly since she last knew her. She was a little less dour, laughed a bit more, and seemed happier in herself. Sharmila wondered if she'd found a boyfriend and had asked one of the other women at the Refuge who used her services. The woman just smiled, tapped her lips, and gave her a knowing look. That was all the confirmation she needed. Mary had got some butter on her toast all right!


Sharmila didn't really know where she was going. She'd just needed to get out, anywhere. She watched Mary looking so animated and excited about going home to her man. Why should she have all the joy while her life was such a fuck up? Sharmila trembled with resentment as she watched the person who'd  the most responsibility for screwing up her life climb onto a 57 bus to the suburbs.


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KATZMAREK ©




