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Subject: {ASSM} Tales of the Lorelei 04/10 {virgosun} (msolo mf 1st cons rom voy pett oral)
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<1st attachment, "04lorelei.txt" begin>
Lorelei part 4
"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.
<1st attachment end>
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