ONE

Colin O'Brien had run into a bit of a bad patch. Story of his life, really.  After finally getting things together and opening the crash repair shop, taking a hefty loan from a dubious source, sinking in all his savings and working round the clock for two years, some bastard had old him a couple of dodgy cars and then the cops had raided. The motors were stolen and impounded; Colin had been lucky to talk himself out of it. Then he'd had a bit of bad luck on the horses and a slow month. That's all it took. He'd fallen behind on his loan repayments, the business had gone belly up but, more disturbingly, his creditors were calling on the debt. He needed a few thousand quick or it would be he himself requiring a bodywork specialist before the week was out.

Wasn't much else for it. Only one way to get a lump sum by Friday with his credit rating. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't broken the law before. There'd been those stolen motors for a start and, well, over the years, you know how it is? He'd never been a real hoon but you have to look to the main chance, right? It wasn't as if he'd ever hurt anyone or done anything really bad. Everyone plays the game. Little bit of this. Little bit of that. Or so he told himself.

He had this mate, an Afghani or something, name of Mahood, used to bring cars in from time to time. He was a gangster, everyone knew that, with a real track record. They said his old man was some kind of hard man, godfather type. Colin'd mentioned his run of bad luck and asked Mahood if he knew anyway he could pick up a few thousand in a hurry, no questions asked. No worries, Mahood had said with a grin. My Dad's looking for a bloke like you. Nothing to it. Just a bit of driving.

Colin had thought about it a lot all day. Driving. He knew what that meant. Armed robbery, had to be. They needed a driver for a quick getaway. He wasn't sure. Armed robbery meant guns - and these fuckers probably knew how to use them. He'd never messed with anything as serious as that before. Not only that, but if anything went wrong it would be a longterm sentence. Ten years at least. He'd be over forty when he got out. Jesus Christ...

Mahood had told him to come round their place at ten tonight. He stood and gave his hair a comb through looking in the mirror, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He knew he was jumpy. Maybe he should just call and say he'd changed his mind? But this was his last chance. Everything he'd worked for would be gone in one fell swoop. It was now or never. Isn't that what the King had said?

Shrugging on his jacket, he ran his hand down his face and made for the door, jogging awkwardly down the stairs from his bedsit over a kebab shop out onto the busy street and down a side alley to where he'd parked his car. Starting the engine, he swore when it failed to turn over. Shit! He checked his watch. Popping the hood, he raked his hand on the jagged edge of the rim. Fuck! He'd be meaning to file that down. Typical. Here he was in the body repair business and his own car was a fucking heap of fucking junk...! His hand was bleeding from where it had sliced right across his palm. Kicking the side panel, he swore at it and gave up. He didn't have time to mess around with the starter motor. Instead he retrieved a scarf from the rear - some girl had dropped it there months ago when they'd done it in the back seat after a concert - and bound it round to staunch the flow.

Then he hopped a bus into the city. 

 

By the time they'd reached the terminus, he was late and even more agitated than he'd been before to such an extent that he almost walked right over the woman who stopped him on Macleay Street.

"...Excuse me, please?"

"Yeah?" He looked at the young woman who had addressed him. She looked Chinese...Japanese...something like that.

"I need money..."

"Sorry, love, you've come to the wrong place..." Colin began to brush past her, eager to get on.

"No....I mean, I need to find a bank. Where can I get some dollars? I have travellers' cheques. I need to change them..." He took a second look at her. She seemed nervous, looking over her shoulder as if someone was following her.

"You got a card? There's an autobank round the corner..."

"Card? I have my husband's cards. Can I use Japanese debit card in Australia...?"

Colin exhaled impatiently. "How the fuck I know? Look...give it to me...yeah...I reckon so...got that symbol...you know his number?"

"Yes."

Then he took a third look. She was dressed casually but he could tell she had money by the watch she was wearing. Japanese. They were all rich. He fingered the card in his hand. "Let me show you where it is, love..."

It was easy as pie. He stuck the card in and she punched in the number. He took the maximum amount he could.  It was quiet on the side street and he gave a quick look around. For a few seconds he wasn't sure if he could do it. But he had no choice. She'd fallen into his lap. It was fate.

Just then, she turned her eyes away from the machine and he took his chance. Placing his hand over her mouth and pulling her in close against him, he whispered. "Empty your wallet. How many cards you got?"

Her eyes widened and she struggled, but her tiny frame made little impression against his bulk. 

He hissed into her ear. "I've got a knife. I don't want to use it, love, but I'm desperate. Take out your cards and let's see you run them all through...."

She had three other cards and, despite the fact that she was sobbing and obviously finding it hard to remember her numbers, she managed to complete the transactions. Two thousand bucks. Just like that.

"Empty your purse." She had another couple of hundred there plus some travellers' cheques in yen.  He tucked it all in his back pocket.

"You got a pen and paper?" She nodded, pulling them out of her bag. "Write down the numbers...there's a good girl...and you best get them right..."

The woman turned to a page in her notebook and tore it out. He dropped his hand from her mouth. She didn't look like she was going to fight him. "They're written down here. Just take it. Leave me alone. You can have his money. I've run away. All I want to do is call Sadao... just leave me enough for the phone call..."

Colin had no idea what she was talking about. All he knew was in two hours it would be another day. He could use the cards once more if he was lucky and get double the amount. It would be enough. He wouldn't have to do the job tomorrow. He'd have enough money to clear what he owed.

She was the main problem. If he let her go now, she'd report him to the police and the cards would be stopped or he'd be picked up if he tried to use them. "Run away?" Her words finally made an impression. "Run away from what?"

"My husband. I don't like him..." she sobbed.

Colin shrugged. "Then get a divorce. Or empty his bank accounts...." The comment made him laugh - and to his surprise, she joined in.

"...That's funny. In a very bad way," she added with a shy grin. Colin relaxed his hold on her. "I'm on my honeymoon..." she began.

"Christ, what'd he do? Or what didn't he do?" Colin made a saucy face and she blushed.

"That wasn't the problem...but I can't stand him touching me..." Colin reckoned it was time to change the subject. He wasn't here for sex counseling.

"...So you're leaving your old man and you're quite happy for me to wipe out his savings?" Colin shrugged. "Now I know why I'm single... You gonna scream if I let you go?" The woman shook her head. He dropped his grip on her.

"All I want to do is call my boyfriend, Sadao, in Japan. He said he would come and meet me in Australia. Then we can run away together. I don't care about my husband's money. You can have it all. I just need enough to get a room for the night and to make that call."

She stared at him with a fierce determination in her eyes.

Colin thought about it. It was crazy but then - his whole fucking life was crazy. What was that word? Yeah, that was it...surreal...his life was fucking surreal. Might as well just go with it like he always did.

"You want to make a deal?" he asked her. She stared impassively up at him.

"You want to do sex with me?"

He smiled. "No, I do not want to have sex with you. That is not the deal."

"OK. We do deal...."

 

 

TWO

"Room? All night? We do by the hour if that's all ya need, mate..." Stas Kalakas eyed up the unlikely pair. Not exactly love's young dream. Mind you, he wouldn't mind doing the little Chinese girl himself. They always look like butter wouldn't melt but when they got down to it - boy, could they go. And they liked big boys...

"Yeah. The night. There an outside line?" Colin stood in front of the girl and gave the swarthy owner of the motel a glare, handing over her passport. He kept his name out of it. Just in case.

"Yeah...Keep it down, mate. This is a respectable place," Stas threw across the key. "Cash. Up front."   Colin counted out the notes and took the key, pushing the girl gently out of the office as she stared about her. She was either in shock or a bit slow. He couldn't work her out.

"This is Heaven...Paradise" she said to him as he walked along to find their room.

"What?" Colin replied wondering if she was all there.

"I mean, that's the name of the motel. Paradiso. Maybe it's a sign. You know? That things are going to be right for me now..."

Colin gave her a look as he turned the key in the lock. "Wouldn't count on it, love..." He held the door open and she walked in.

They sat down rather awkwardly on the twin beds, facing each other. "I should tell you my name. It is Midori Takada..."

"Colin. O'Brien." He pulled out a packet of Rizla and began to roll a cigarette. "Don't mind if I...?"

She shook her head, he lit up.

"Your hand's hurt?" Midori pointed to the hastily tied bandage. 

"It's nothing. Just a scratch. Look, I need to make a call..."

She blushed and stood up, walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. In the mirror she looked at her face. It was hard to imagine that the girl staring back at her looked just the same as ever after what she had just done. Walked out on her husband. Disgraced her family. Gone to a hotel room with some Australian criminal. But it brought a smile to her face. This is living, she thought. Breaking the rules and doing something, just because you want to.

 

"...Mahood? That you?"

"Where the fuck you been, mate? My Dad's doing his fucking nut here...."

"Look, I'm gonna have to pull out. I've...broken my leg...had a bit of an accident. I can't do the job...You know I wouldn't leave you in the lurch if I didn't have to..."

"Fuck, man, I told him we could count on you! He's gonna be after your balls. If I were you I'd keep out of sight. And don't come asking me for any more favours, dickhead..." Mahood slammed the phone down and Colin winced. All he seemed to be doing was paying off one problem and then picking up another stone to hang round his neck. Time to hit the road for a while. Sydney was getting a bit too hot for him.

Midori stepped gingerly out of the bathroom. "May I make a call now?"

Colin glanced up and dragged on the butt of his cigarette. "S'all yours..." He flicked on the TV and sat down in a chair while she picked up the receiver.

"How?" She indicated the phone buttons.

"Nine. Then the usual..." he muttered and changed channels.

He heard her press the numbers, wait, and then begin to talk in Japanese. She was animated now, no longer shy and quiet but fluent and assertive, smiling and confident. Maybe that's why these chicks always looked so dumb. It wasn't their language.

She spoke for a long time, writing something down in a notebook then hung up. "He's coming! Sadao's coming!" Colin shrugged. "I have to go to Melbourne. Sadao has been transferred to the factory there. We will be together. We will have a future..." Midori gushed, scarcely able to contain her excitement.

Colin looked at his watch, barely listening to the future that Midori was planning. If he didn't get this money together by Friday he'd be spending his future at the bottom of the harbour tied to a concrete block. "That's nice. Look...it's ten past twelve. Let's go empty those accounts, huh?"

 

They got the money and he found a Lebanese all night shop that took the travellers' cheques. Back at the room, they counted it out and then cut up the cards. He gave her enough to cover her flight and a bit extra, then he pocketed the rest.

"Best get some sleep. Early start in the morning," he muttered. "Which bed you want?"

"This one is fine," she said, slipping off her jeans and T-shirt under the covers. For a moment he looked across at her. He felt a mild surge of desire. It had been fucking weeks. She was a bit on the tiny side but might be needy enough if he turned the lights off and climbed in with her.

Dragging his eyes away from the sheet that covered her, imagining her underneath in a perky little bra and panties, that long black hair over the pillow, he made his way to the bathroom, took a piss and came back. She was still awake, lying watching him. He turned away, kicked off his boots, pulled off his socks, unzipped his jeans and let them fall, throwing them onto a nearby chair. Lighting up a cigarette, he loped to the other bed and dragged the sheets open, jumping in and leaning up on the bed head, smoking thoughtfully. He had seen her eyes following him as he'd crossed the room. She'd been looking at his dick. He felt it stir at the thought. Probably wanted to know what we looked like naked. Never seen one as big. Maybe he should go and give her a chance to feel some prime beef.

"Thank you for helping me, Colin..." her soft voice spoke from across the space.

"I robbed you, Midori. You don't thank someone for doing that..."

She laughed softly. "You're not a very good robber, Colin. You're a nice man. I'm glad you got his money. I think you're in trouble. Now you're safe. Now I'm safe. We helped each other."

"Nothing wrong with that," he observed as he stubbed out the cigarette and turned off the lamp. He wasn't sure why he hadn't hit on her except it seemed like taking advantage. And he also had this needling sense that if he did, he'd be getting himself in more shit than he was already in. Not sure how he knew that - but he did.

 

 

Early the next morning, he woke with a start. Midori was already up and dressed, writing something at the dressing table. He sat up, coughed, scratched himself and watched her. "What you doing?"

Midori jumped and turned to face him. "I am sorry if I woke you. I was too excited too sleep. You snore a lot."

He smiled.

"I'm sending a letter to my husband to explain." She picked it up and read it out.

 

 

"You think that is enough?" Midori asked him. Colin hunched his shoulders.

"I think he'll get the message. Not sure he'll be lapping it up, though...." He threw back the covers, saw her glance down shyly and then look away, a blush stealing over her features. He stood up and walked past her to the bathroom, aware that he was sporting a semi and his shorts were giving it all away.

A quick wash and shave, and he was ready. They checked out, settled the phone bill and then he flagged a cab to take her to the airport.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Colin. I hope you  solve your problems. And, get a proper bandage for your hand..."

He looked down at the gash from the day before; he had forgotten all about it. It ran right across his palm, skinning a patch of flesh. "Yeah...better get something over it...have a good journey, Midori. See ya around, maybe?"

She shook her head saying, "I don't think so..." before slipping into the back seat; he closed the door and banged on the roof. As the car pulled out Midori waved at him and shouted, "Bye, Colin! Thank you!"

He raised a hand, a little self-consciously, uneasy with open shows of affection, and then turned away. Now to pay his debts and get the fuck out of here before the little Jap husband found out who had got his hands on his money...

 

 

THREE

"Four thousand?"

"Yeah, mate...it's all there...just like I told you..." Colin handed over the envelope of money and looked around him. He felt trapped in this dead beat bar, a couple of hard nuts standing around all ready to put the boot in if he didn't satisfy the boss.

"Only just..." The older man finished counting and stared impassively at him. "Next time...don't keep me waiting, O'Brien. I might not be so patient..." With a slight nod, he indicated to one of his thugs who stepped forward and rammed his fist into Colin's kidneys. He went down like a lead balloon, groaning and rolling but too slow to prevent the boot crashing into his ribs; all he could do was cover his groin in defence and ride out the beating. They toyed with him awhile and then dragged him back to his feet.

"Just a warning, mate. Don't mess me about again, alright?"

All in all it had been better than he'd expected.

Not much harm done, he thought later, as he looked at himself in the mirror back at his place, stripped to the waist. His ribs and lower back were bruised and he had a cut over his left eye - but he'd had worse. Nothing a few days wouldn't mend. Cleaning himself up, he stuck a bandaid over his brow and put a fresh dressing on his palm, lay down on the bed and went out like a light. Slept till afternoon.

Waking feeling stiff and sore, he made a cup of tea and sat smoking, thinking about the future. His rent was overdue on this place and he'd hocked most of his stuff already to pay bills. Time to move on, he reckoned. Easing on a T-shirt and his boots, he went down to his car and spent the next few hours working on it. He could have done it quicker with the right tools but he was good enough to patch up any engine. Pity about the business. If there was one thing Colin knew he could do, it was fix cars.

That evening he sorted through his stuff and realized how little he actually did own. Packing some of his music and clothes, he stowed them in the trunk of his car, went and got something to eat and had a few beers. He intended to leave early in the morning. He didn't have any real plans. Maybe go and call in and see his Dad. It'd been years. About time he made the effort.

His plans for an early start were shot straight away. Colin didn't wake up until way after nine. With his usual casual attitude, he showered and shaved, dressed and took his own sweet time. The road wasn't going anywhere.

Crossing the city towards the bridge, he found himself rolling to a halt on Wentworth. He could hear sirens and see a few ambulances racing past. He shouted to a passing policeman who stopped and leaned in. "I'd reverse and flirt a left if I were you, mate. We've sealed off the entire area. Bank job on Elizabeth Street. Gun battle. Nasty.He swore under his breath and reversed sharply. Half way through the turn, a green Holden turned into the same street and blocked his exit. The woman rolled her window down. "What's the hold up?"

"Road block. Police. Best go round," he shouted. Her baby in the passenger seat gave him a toothy grin. He smiled back "Cute kid," and the woman backed out. "Thanks, love."

He knew the back streets well and soon found his way to the Anzac Bridge and settled in as he left the city behind. The radio was playing a number he liked; he turned up the sound and sang tunelessly along with it. His mood lightened. It felt like when he was a kid and they went down to the beach. A summer holiday.

 

 

Colin drove for a couple of hours until early evening; he needed gas and something to eat. Ahead was a roadhouse, dwarfed by an enormous advertising board depicting some tropical beach and the slogan: Escape to Paradise. It made him think of Midori. And his running away.

Parking the car, he strolled over to the diner and ordered a hamburger, fries and a cup of tea sitting down at one of the tables amongst all the truckers.  A television blared out the evening news on Nine. They all sat watching like zombies, zoning out to the strident niceness of the TV newsreader:

 

 

"Fucking A- rabs. Every fucking time it's one of those fucking immigrants... Trouble with this country is they let in too many wogs..." A rough-looking fair-haired man struck up with his own uninformed commentary on the news and won a round of approval from most of his colleagues. "This country's too fucking soft if you ask me..."

Colin glanced up saying nothing, but something in his manner attracted the spokesman's attention. "Something bothering you, mate?" Colin lowered his eyes and finished off the meal, sipping tea and smoking while the racist ranted. He'd heard it all before. Just another loser blaming another loser for his own problems.

 

 

Colin watched the TV screen impassively. Nothing to implicate him there. A Japanese guy appeared on the screen, wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He thought he looked like a bit of a wuss.

 

 

"....Place is fucking overrun with them. You'd think this was fucking Japan. So, she went off with one of us, hey? Must have fancied a bit of real dick..." Colin must have pulled a face at that observation for the next moment the opinionated bloke seemed to take offence and stuck his face right up to Colin's. "Did I say something that offended you, sport? You one of those perverts who fancy those Asian girls? Our girls not good enough for you? Ya like mixing the races with your little half breeds, do ya?"

The bloke was clearly a few cents short of a dollar. Colin shrugged and dragged on his ciggie. "Mate...I didn't say anything. Just eating my burger, drinking my tea..."

His adversary backed down, pleased with what he seemed to think was his victory and a point well made. "No worries, mate. Just as long as we're on the same page, hey?" Colin gave him a weak smile. One beating a week was enough for him.

Shortly afterwards, he finished his cup of tea, visited the bathroom and then went outside to fill up with petrol. His wallet reminded him that he was not exactly flush. He needed to conserve his money or get some work- and soon.

Back on the road, he drove for another hour or two until he felt his chin dropping - he needed to get his head down. Pulling in at the side of the highway, he noticed an old abandoned workshop set back from the road and decided to bunk down there for the night. There was water from a standpipe and a place he could stretch out. The night was warm and he was grateful for the breeze that came through the open windowpanes and the holes in the roof.

Colin lay back in a blanket smoking, listening to the distant call of a kookaburra. Midori crossed his mind. She'd be with her Jap boyfriend by now and probably getting it on. He stretched out, his head on his folded arm and let himself recall her slender form and those skinny legs. He imagined her doll-like face and her full lips clasped around his cock as he thrust into her mouth. The images danced across his tired brain as he stroked himself through the denim of his jeans, wishing she were here with him now. Wishing anyone was here with him now. Just to have any woman touching him.

He'd never had much success with women. Oh, there'd been plenty of them. They found him attractive enough - that was never the problem. But they rarely hung around long. Colin couldn't blame them. Mostly he'd been pretty indifferent to them outside the bedroom. It was the usual story. They always wanted him to be more upfront, attentive, make decisions, move in with them, spend every minute of their free time together, for him to entertain their friends and drop his own. Then he was the worst person in the world because he either didn't say enough, lay around while they waited on him, got on their nerves, was no good at anything, had no backbone, pissed them off.... "Just fucking do something, Colin! Don't just sit there and give me that look again..." How often had he heard that?

So he usually walked. Or they did. Few regrets. But he missed the feel of a warm body in the night, the security of a woman's touch and the heady release of sexual passion.

Rolling onto his stomach, he tried to think about something else, but the image of Midori naked writhing over him, his cock deep inside her tight little cunt filled his head. With a grunt, he sat up and unzipped, gripping his cock and giving into the urge. Another one-handed love affair.

At least his dick wouldn't expect flowers in the morning. He sank back and fell quickly asleep.

 

 

FOUR

Oshima Wasabe sat in his apartment trying to say something that would make Yukio Takada feel better. The man had refused his offer to arrange his return to Tokyo and seemed unable to contemplate leaving and facing the inevitable whispering campaign he would face at home. Oshima could hardly blame him. Takada would be a laughing stock, cheated by his bride, abandoned on his honeymoon and his bank accounts rifled. Mrs. Takada had seemed a shy and retiring young woman but her behaviour suggested otherwise: a lover and an uncertain liaison with some Australian she met in passing? Wasabe did not envy his colleague the position he had unwittingly found himself in. He had been humiliated, emasculated and had lost face before his company, family and friends. His face had been plastered over newspapers and relayed to every Japanese home on the television news. It was the ultimate slur to the pride of any Japanese man.

Although Takada had been fairly subdued since the incident had occurred it came as no surprise to Wasabe when the man suddenly snapped out of his apparent catatonia and demanded two things. A motor bike and a gun. There is an honour code that lies not too far below the surface in all Japanese. What might have appeared as a dangerous sign of man out of control in one culture appeared in another like the inevitable result of the affront he had suffered. Through contacts Wasabe had in a rather select  Sydney sex club of which he was a member, he was very quickly able to furnish the requested items, even paying for them himself. He wanted Takada out of his life before he dragged himself and the company any further into his archaic act of retribution.

Wasabe got his wish. A chance accident with a carelessly pointed gun and Wasabe was no longer concerned with the fate of his friend or the company. He was already dead.

 

Yukio felt a little sorry that it had cost Oshima his life, but at least he had got the hang of how these guns worked. Shaving his head in a ritual cleansing and psyching himself up as if he was entering into the state of kamikaze, he girded himself for the next stage of his quest: to revenge himself and his family on the insult that had been paid to them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was midday, the sun high overhead, when Colin drove into yet another country town, all of them beginning to seem the same to him, identical toy towns set in an endless horizon of red dust and arid land. The car was playing up. Pulling up at a car showroom-cum-repair shop, Midnight Motors, he wandered into the office, grateful for the blast of air conditioner that hit him as he entered.

"And what can I do for you, son?" Mr. Midnight beamed his two-faced grin.

"You got any rolling gear? My car's in a bad way. Handbrake's fucked...gears are slipping..."

"It'll cost you...50 bucks an hour ..." he grinned. "...Minimum two hours..."

Colin gave him a look. Bloody daylight robbery but these country blokes knew a desperado when they saw one. What else could he do? Miles away from any fucking where. He was really fucked if he broke down here. Pulling out the notes, he handed them over and watched as Mr. Midnight slid them into a desk drawer. He saw the telltale sign of other notes there. The bastard was careless. Didn't expect there was anyone around to trouble him.

"I'll just go and get something to eat and drink and be back at two, mate," Colin said before sauntering over to the local pie shop for lunch.

"Pie float, mate," he muttered and then looked around him. There was a blonde at one of the tables sipping soup and flicking through a magazine. She was a bit of a looker, although kind of weird; one of those rock chicks with her hair up in odd little tails, panda eyes, dark Goth lips and black nails. He thought she looked spaced out.

Settling down at a table across from her, he began to eat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance up, see him and then stop for a second look. He had stripped off his shirt and was only wearing jeans and a singlet. He could guess what had caught her eye in this one horse town. Even so, her muttered comment took him by surprise.

"Jesus, that's what I call spunk..."

Colin looked up, his fork poised half way to his lips. "You talking to me?"

The woman gave him a knowing look." Not to you...about you..."

He grinned. "Not sure I know what you mean..."

"Perfect...brawn and no brain...who says there's no God?" she replied tartly.

Colin hunched his shoulders and returned to his lunch. She was one odd woman. Probably high as a kite.

"Want a hair cut?" She suddenly asked him. "I'm the hairdresser in this town. When I get a head to cut..."

He looked at the quirky hairstyle she was wearing, little bunches in coloured elastic tied at odd places on her scalp. "Who does your hair, love? Not much of an advert..."

She snorted. "Well it didn't come out of some 50s rock and roll magazine, mate. Or is Elvis alive and well and driving through New South Wales?"

It made him laugh. She had a tongue on her like a real tough outback girl. Could cut diamonds with hers. He wondered in passing how much damage she could do to his dick with it.

Standing up, he gave her a look at him unfurled. She took her chance, eyes lingering on the prominent bulge in his well-worn denims. "I've got a bit of work to do on my engine. I'll think about it."

She gave him a truculent stare. "Don't overdo the thinking, love. We wouldn't want to use up too much blood on a useless organ now, would we?"

 

He spent a the next two hours fixing the brakes and then straightened up, catching sight of the hairdresser watching him through the window of her shop. He strolled over and went in.

"Let me guess. You want to look like the Big Bopper..." She began.

He smiled. "Not sure. What d'ya reckon? Want to change my image. I suddenly got this urge..."

"Now you're talking. I like urges...sit down. Lean back. Let me wash your hair..."

It was oddly comforting to let her attend to him, her long fingernails scraping at his scalp as she smoothed in shampoo and gave him a sensuous head massage. Then she sat him up and combed through his hair. "You've got great hair. Really thick. You should grow it..."

"I came in for a trim..."

"And here's me thinking you came in to have at me...."

There was a silence. "That too..." he muttered.

It was all the encouragement that she needed. Dropping the comb, closing the blinds and flipping the lock, she returned to where he was still sitting, pulled off her tight lacy top, dropping her short mini skirt and sitting on his knee. "The usual, mate?" she asked with a husky burr.

"Too right, love," he replied as he pulled her against him and found her lips. A deep kiss and she was already wriggling on his lap, her pussy covered in just a scrap of flimsy fabric as she ground down on his hardness. With a little yelp of pleasure, she slipped off his knee and ripped down his zip, yanking on his cock, his turn to yelp, before she set to work, sucking and licking and then swallowing it deep. Colin closed his eyes and let it happen, jerking slowly into her warm wet mouth, listening to her soft mewls of pleasure.

He said nothing, merely moaning softly to himself as she expertly brought him closer, one hand working his base and the other softly squeezing the wrinkled skin of his balls. Heat was building and he tried to pull away. "Wanna fuck you...!" he gasped.

"You got a rubber?"

"Not on me..." Colin grunted as she returned to sucking hard. It was obvious she wasn't going to let him. What the fuck, he thought, she can swallow... and the thought alone was enough to finish him off; he shot deep into her mouth, letting out a long low sigh as he rocked into her.

For a few seconds they stayed there, he laid back on the swivel chair, she at his knees, her head buried in his lap. Then the door behind them rattled. "Coo-ee, Sharon...! You in there? I've got a four thirty..."

"Shit! Mrs. Sweeney. Fuck! Fasten your pants and make like you didn't just shoot all over my face..." Sharon leapt up to dress and Colin rushed to rearrange his fly, thrusting his wilting cock back inside with a wince as he zipped up smartly and pulled the towel back round his neck. He saw Sharon slip on her skirt, rake some lippie on her swollen mouth, take a mouthful of soda from a can and then run to the door.

"Is it locked? Goodness me, Maureen, wonder how that happened? He must have hit the snib when he came in. Do you mind waiting a tic? Just seeing to this young gentleman...."

Maureen Sweeney gave Colin a wry glance and then shot a look back at Sharon, raising her eyebrows. "He in town for the shearing? Bit early if you ask me..."

Colin said nothing. He wasn't sure he was capable of speech yet. Sharon set to work and gave him a trim. She asked if he wanted her to shave his sideburns. He said no. She leant over and whispered, "Keep 'em. Reminds me of your pubic hair." He almost choked. She dried him off and he went with her to the counter, lowering his voice so that Mrs. Sweeney couldn't hear.

"What do I owe you, love?" He was running short but this was one extra he didn't mind shelling out for.

"A good rooting, "she murmured back. "Cut and blow's on the house. Go buy a strip from the chemist and I'll be finished in an hour. My flat's upstairs. Fancy a steak for supper?"

It occurred to Colin that something had changed in his life. It seemed that everything was looking up for once. Normally the opposite happened. He wondered how long that was liable to go on for. Best grab his chances while he could.

"No worries. Name's Colin, by the way....Sharon...see ya later, hey?" He winked at her and she gave him a genuine smile back. She was actually a pretty girl once she dropped that hard-faced expression. Free cut and blow. Free dinner - and it looked like a lot more on offer where the head had come from. His walk was jauntier as he left the shop; he even smiled sweetly at a kid on a bike passing by.

As the door swung shut behind him, Mo Sweeney jumped up and went to the window where Sharon was watching him walk off. "Jesus Christ, where did he wash in from? Loads of spunk or what?"

"You're not wrong, Mo. Nearly choked me..."Sharon giggled.

"You bloody didn't?"

"I bloody did. How often am I going to get a chance like that in this fleapit? He's what you might call a sperm whale. You know? The kind you blow on the first date..."

Mo chuckled. "Seeing him again tonight?"

"Too right. I want to see Spunky go...."

 

 

FIVE

Colin had shaved and cleaned up as best as he could in the men's room of the local hotel, aware of the suspicious looks from some of the regulars. He put a few coins into the condom dispenser but it was empty. He thumped it in temper and checked his watch. He wasn't sure if the local chemist was still open.

But his luck was in for once when he reached the shop at the end of the main street; the bloke inside was just shutting up.

"Mate...I just want some frangers...give me a break, hey?" Colin rattled the door. The old gentleman tutted and opened up, letting him in. " You've all got no shame these days...I remember when that was all under cover and hush hush. A man kept his business quiet... Now you're shouting the odds in the street..." he chunnered on as he led Colin to the counter. "Well, what's it to be? Ribbed, extra- sensitive, fruit flavoured...?"

"Just give me a strip, mate..." Colin muttered, already embarrassed.

"Sharon prefers the sensitive ones...that's what she usually uses..." the chemist observed. Colin gave the man a surprised look. "...Country towns," the old fellow continued. "You can't eat a peeled egg without someone knowing..."

"Right...best give me what the lady uses then..." Colin muttered and thrust the money on the counter top.

"Lubricant? Spanish fly? I can even sell you a couple of tabs of Viagra ...unofficially of course..."

"Er...no thanks, mate...think I can manage..."

The old gent shrugged and rang up the till. "Suit yourself, then...but she's very demanding...there aren't many in this town who can keep up with Sharon..."

"I'll take my chances..." Colin replied and shoved the condoms into his pocket laughing inwardly at the absurdity of the interchange. Surreal. Best word to describe his life.

 

Over at the salon, Colin lent on the bell to the flat whose entrance was adjacent to the salon. There was a clattering on the lino of the stairs beyond and then the door was opened. "Hey, Spunky....you came...!" Sharon said with a husky tone in her voice and a suggestive glint in her eye.

"I came..." Colin rolled his eyebrows and offered her the bottle of wine he was carrying.

"Good man....come on up..." He followed her up the narrow staircase watching her buttocks as she moved. She'd changed into a loose short sundress, her long bare brown legs tantalizing him. Her hair was down now and she was wearing less makeup. He was pleasantly surprised. "Make yourself at home, Colin...want anything?"

"Wouldn't mind a bath...been on the road a coupla days..."he suggested.

"Sure thing. Bathroom's through there. Towel in the cupboard..." He went into the tiny bathroom and looked around. It was clean and there was plenty of hot water but the shower cubicle was so tiny that the whole floor was awash by the time he'd finished. He dried off and threw the towel on the floor to mop it up.

Back in the tiny kitchenette, Sharon was singing along to a song on the radio as she prepared a meal. He sat down and lit up. It smelt good and he realized he was hungry.

"Medium?"

"Well done," he replied. She opened a bottle of VB and handed it to him. "Thanks, love," he replied and felt a slight sense of pleasure at her fussing over him. It had been while since anyone had bothered to do that. "How long you lived here?"

"All my life. It was just Mum and me the last few years. She opened the salon when I was a kid. Dad buggered off with some woman he met years ago. My brother lives in Ballarat. Never see him. Mum died. Cancer, ya know? Smoked like a fucking chimney...not good for you those..." she indicated his roll up.

He shrugged. 

"Where you from?" 

"Outside Reillytown. M'Dad's got a place there. But I left when I was a kid..."

"Where to?"

"All over. Sydney. Queensland...been back in Sydney mostly..."

Sharon flipped the steaks onto plates and lit up a cigarette of her own. "Lucky you...what the fuck you come back here for? If I could get out, I'd be through here like a dose of salts..."

Colin observed her thoughtfully but said nothing. He saw ash fall into the potatoes as she mashed them. He liked her style. She didn't give a fuck. Sharon placed the two plates down on the small table and he joined her, taking the corkscrew out of her hand and opening the bottle.

"Bit of a gentleman, are you then?" She asked with a smile, but he could see she liked his gesture.

"I was brought up right," he smiled back.

"What happened then?" she teased.

He laughed. "Too right, love. Then it all went crook...but that's life, hey?"

 

They ate dinner. He hadn't had a meal like it in as long as he could remember. Steak potatoes and two veg. Sort of thing his mother used to make for them. When Sharon brought out bowls of tinned fruit and ice cream, he smiled broadly and felt like he was beamed back to some long forgotten time. Even the taste was redolent of innocence and childhood.

"It's not very classy but we don't have a lot of choice here - especially at short notice ..."

"It's beaut. Really appreciate it, Sharon. You're a mate."

Sharon grinned and wrinkled up her nose in a rather appealing fashion. She refilled his wine glass and offered him a cigarette. "Got something stronger if you're interested...."

"Weed?" he asked.

"No. Pills. Make you feel no pain..." she murmured, fondling the back of his neck. He pulled her down onto his knee.

"What you messing with that shit for? It'll scramble your brains..."

"You tell me how else I make it to tomorrow living in a place like this? It helps to hide the pain,' she whispered into his ear as she pulled off his shirt and ran her hands beneath his tank.

"Use me, tonight. That's what I'm here for..." he muttered as he opened the front of her dress and caressed her breasts. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes to hide from him the tears that had pricked. She knew he would be gone in the morning. She knew tomorrow would be worse than ever.

But tonight she was going to escape. 

He stood, with her entwined around his solid torso, her hands raking down the thick biceps and up again to anchor round his thick neck and brawny shoulders. She felt the muscular strength of a potent young man in his prime and ached for what he brought to her empty life. Clasping him close, she hung on as he staggered to the bedroom and they fell onto the mattress, pulling at clothes, pushing underwear out of the way, eager to be naked and to savour the hot, sweaty sex of the other.

Colin knelt before her and eased off her panties, opening her legs to his gaze and bending them against her chest. He sighed a deep groan of pleasure and then followed the trail of her scent, burrowing down her lower belly, nuzzling in the curls of her pubic hair, and then sampling the fragrant perfume of her cunt, clean but still carrying the undernote of aroused woman, a ripe, rich, heady smell. He inhaled, blew softly over her flesh already swollen with desire and then he bent to taste, kiss, lick, suck, lap, enter. Sharon groaned and bucked beneath him, opening herself wider and crying out in streams of crude fantasy all she wanted him to do to her.

It drove him wilder. He dragged on her ankle and pulled her across the bed while she was still sobbing from her orgasm, positioned one leg over his shoulder and another round his waist as he snapped on a condom. Then with little ceremony he thrust in and heard her gasp as she tried to take his girth. He stopped, rotated while she grew accustomed, and then as he felt her open and push against him, he drove deeper in until he could feel the barrier of her womb. And then he circled, his hips grinding, pulled out, thrust again, over and over, pounding her until she came in a wild shudder and fell back; he just settled above her, dropped his head and fucked her until he was shaking with need - and finally shot into her in a series of uneven spurts.

Sharon was just holding on by then; she couldn't remember the last time a man had turned her on so much. Partly it was his physicality, so casually worn - he wasn't posturing or pushing like most men, almost letting her make all the moves- but when she did, he took over and seemed to enjoy pleasing her as much as seeking his own pleasure. That was a rare occurrence in her estimation among Australian men.

Colin, meanwhile wasn't analysing what had just happened as clearly as his bedmate. All he could do was lie still shaking in her arms as the powerful release took him and deprived him of all his other faculties. He felt her fingers caress his back and then move up to rake though his hair and stroke his brow. Her voice, before so harsh and confident, was now soft and seductive, calming him, telling him what a man he was, how his body felt, how she had never come so hard for any bloke. He smiled sleepily and rolled over to lie on his side watching her.

They spoke in soft whispers. She touched the moles on his skin and kissed a scar here and there. He asked her about a tattoo she had on her upper thigh. They discovered each other's nakedness without any false modesty; both were experienced and promiscuous, uninterested in polite displays of modesty. He knew she'd been around, she knew he was the kind of guy who took and moved on. There was something refreshingly honest in the lack of expectation both had of each other.

He rested and then she worked him up again. This time they played languidly with each other, tried different positions, talked about fantasies, wild things they had done, what they'd like to try, acted out a game where he held her down and she struggled. It was hard work, sweaty and dirty, uplifting and satisfying. He fell asleep sprawled across her body, hot and pungent with perspiration and come. Sharon lay in the dark and imagined what it would be like if a man like this could want to settle with a girl like her.

 

It was early morning when Sharon woke, a cool misty dawn with the rosy promise of the heat to follow in the fresh glow of the sky. The bed was empty. She rolled onto her side and looked at the pillow where he had lain, still deeply indented, the sheets wrecked where they had destroyed the neat coverings of the bed in their sexual frenzy. Somehow she didn't feel any bitterness or the usual desire to cut some bloke's balls off. It would have been nice had he stuck around long enough to say goodbye, but at the end of the day, he was going to leave and it might as well be this way as any other. He had given her more than she'd expected and treated her better than anyone she remembered. Yet it was impossible not to lie there in the early morning light and fantasise that Colin O'Brien was her man and that she woke up every morning in his big strong arms.

Just then the door opened and Colin loped in, pulled off his jumper and dropped his pants before rolling in naked beside her. Sharon was so stunned she could hardly speak. By the time she found her voice, Colin was wrapped around her, rubbing his soft cock against her thigh and fondling her breasts.

"Where've you been?" she smiled.

Colin sniggered softly and ran his hand between her parted thighs. "Had a bit of business to sort out..."

"At this hour of the morning?" 

"You know how it is..." he answered cryptically and rolled her back, tossing her a condom off the nightstand and indicating that she should put it on.

"I thought you'd gone," she said as she bit into the packet, took it out, shook it skillfully and then rolled it on; he murmured gratefully at her soft and sure touch.

"Wouldn't just walk out," he muttered as he entered her with a forceful push and she cried out.

"I wouldn't have blamed you..."

"You think I'd leave without giving you a farewell root?"

Sharon laughed at his cheek and stroked back his hair. "You cocky bastard, O'Brien..."

"You love it though..."he gasped out as he pressed down and began to jerk rhythmically in and out, his tender cock immediately responding to the urgent motion.

"Yeah....what's not to love?" she whispered into his ear as they fell deeper into their pleasure and their conversation morphed into half uttered moans and indecipherable words. They writhed and rolled together in soft and languid early morning love - or something that felt very close to it.

Lying back in his arms, her body sore and yet more at peace than in a long time, Sharon said almost to herself. "You lucky bastard...fancy just getting into your car and driving away. You know how good that sounds to me?"

He glanced down at her. "Then do it. Nothing to keep you here..."

"There's the business..."

"You make anything out of it?"

"Not much."

"Then split. Cut your losses. Get a life," he observed.

Sharon swallowed back the tears. "It's easy for a bloke. I can't just travel alone. It's dangerous. I've no one. Colin, I'm stuck in this time warp and there's no escape..."

He curled his upper lip, sucking on the bottom. She'd noticed the mannerism before when he was thinking. It was endearing. Boyish. Something he was clearly not aware of doing. She was so occupied thinking about how much she had already learned about him when he spoke. His answer shocked her.

"Need a ride? Can't promise you anything but it'll get you out of this dump. Up to you..."

"....You're asking me to go with you?" Sharon gasped, sitting up and staring at him.

Colin shrugged. "No pills. No promises. Pay half the gas. Share a bed. Why not? Until we decide we've had enough...?"

He wasn't even sure why he said it. She was good in bed and the kind of girl who had no illusions about life or men. She felt warm in the night and she made him laugh. He was suddenly tired of facing that open road on his own.

"Give me half an hour. That's all I'll take to pack." She leapt from the bed while he leaned back on the pillow and helped himself to one of her cigarettes. Seemed like it was his week for making girls smile.

 

It was just off seven when they made their way to his car. Colin threw the small case she'd packed into the trunk and slammed it shut. 

"I think I should leave a note for a few people..."Sharon began.

"No...we better get off. People beginning to move around," he observed, watching the forecourt of Midnight Motors nervously.

"So?" she replied.

"I just ripped off Midnight's petty cash. 'Cept it wasn't so petty. He should use a bank," Colin observed.

"WHAT?" Sharon exclaimed. "You robbed the showroom?"

Colin smirked. "I was a bit short...come on, let's fuck off before he notices..."

Sharon's mouth fell open as he started the car and left town at speed. "But...but...they'll know it was you! They always blame the stranger passing through..."

"Gotta catch me first," he chuckled as he leaned on the window and let the cool morning air blow across his face. "Sort out the radio, love...find a decent channel..."

 

As Colin and Sharon left town by one exit, into town drove a Ute containing two Rastas, native Australians who were making their way down to the coast. They'd driven all night and decided to get a few hours' kip in the quiet country town, grab some tucker and then move on. Drawing to a halt in front of Midnight Motors, they turned off their engine and lay back on the seats, quickly falling to sleep. Suddenly fate made Colin O'Brien neither the last stranger to pass through town nor, in the racist sentiments of most of the inhabitants, the most suspect...

 

To Part Two

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