Bac of Boure

Thanks to Waratah for his assistance.

'Back of Bourke' is Australian slang for 'the middle of nowhere'. Bourke does actually exist -- it's a town in New South Wales.

~~~~~~

'You claim you want to meet a man, and yet you dress like a fifty year old lesbian,' Kerry remarked, inspecting my outfit.

I was standing in her doorway wearing what were euphemistically described as 'walk shorts', a cotton singlet and a pair of Birkenstocks. My brown hair was tied back in a tight bun, and my face was bereft of make-up. I was only thirty-two years old but I knew I dressed like a much older woman.

I

felt

older. Only a few months earlier I'd finally managed to extricate myself from a relationship with one of those pessimistic, negative types who insists that their partner spends every waking second with them, and throws a tantrum when they don't. You know the kind; the sort who need everything to be about them, and if you dare focus your attention on anyone else, they do everything in their power to make you feel guilty and apologetic.

Normal people avoid relationships with emotional leeches. Not me. I'd felt sorry for James, and I'd spent an impressive eight years of my life letting him sulk and carry on, whinge and bitch, before I finally realised I'd never be able to tolerate a lifetime with such a childish jerk, and left him six months before we were due to be married. Four months after we split I was now doing that awful post-relationship try-and-mend-broken-and-damaged-friendships routine.

I didn't expect people to forgive me. Why would they? But Kerry had not only forgiven me, but invited me on a girly night out with her. This was why I found myself on her doorstep at five-thirty on a hot summer Saturday evening.

'Bad, huh?' I asked with a wry smile. 'I need help.'

'So you've said,' she agreed, referencing our Facebook messenger conversations. 'Well, you've come to the right place. Come in, say hello to Linus, and let me fix you up so that you're ready to attract some cock.'

I couldn't help but laugh as I followed Kerry inside the modest house she and her GP husband owned. We were in the country town of Boonah, one hour south-west of Brisbane. I'd come here to accept the help she'd offered to give me. I needed to find my feet. I needed the sort of brutal honesty and advice that only a woman like Kerry could give me.

Kerry was someone I met during my first year at university. We were both studying education, and I noticed her within the first week of classes, but I gave her a wide berth, assuming her to be the sort of woman I'd clash with. She came from Julia Creek, a hot, dusty outpost in Central Queensland, drove a ute, and had a set of tits that men couldn't keep their eyes off. She was outgoing, drank heavily, and had a fabulous tan and an even better, bright, white smile.

Queensland teachers are required to undertake country service, a program designed to provide teachers to rural and remote locations. It was a regular joke that Kerry was the only student teacher who undertook her own form of country service before setting foot in a university.

I would have been mortified if people made that sort of joke about me, but Kerry took the comments in good humour. She agreed that there would be a hell of a lot more rural men still holding their V cards if it wasn't for her, and added that now she'd reached civilisation, she planned on undertaking city service for urban men.

Halfway through our first term, she and I were paired up for a university assignment. To my surprise, I found that she was so much more than just a country slut. She was highly intelligent, extremely funny, and one of the most supportive women I've ever had the pleasure to call a friend.

'Linus!' Kerry called as we walked through the house and onto the back veranda. 'Evie's here!'

I'd met Linus briefly several years ago at his and Kerry's wedding. He was as tall and skinny as I remembered him to be, and he temporarily stopped cleaning his barbecue to ask me if I wanted a drink.

When it came to sexual partners, Kerry's type was 'horny'. When it came to her boyfriends, they were all bashful, white bread grammar and private school boys from inner-city, upper middle income families. Kerry might hail from a town over sixteen hundred kilometres from Brisbane, but all of her beaus have come from within a five kilometre radius of our central business district. Linus was no different. I'd been told at some point he was a Lauries old boy and I believed it.

'I'm right, thanks,' I replied. 'Do you want a hand with anything?'

'No, no, just pottering around,' he said. 'Kerry said you two were heading out tonight, so I thought I'd catch up on a few odd jobs.'

'You're not coming tonight?' I asked.

'Of course he isn't,' Kerry said. 'Tonight is about

you

. Besides,' she added with a cheeky grin. 'You know Linus prefers to stay at home and try to imagine what I might be getting up to.'

Linus blushed and averted his gaze. I went just as red as Linus and wished I could take back my words. Yes, of course I should have known Linus wouldn't be coming with us. He, like all of Kerry's partners, preferred to stay at home wanking to the mental image of his wife getting nailed by a variety of strange men.

'How's your summer break?' Linus asked me.

'Wonderful,' I replied. 'How's your job going?'

'The juicy bits I wish I could tell you are bound up in client confidentiality, and the rest isn't worth mentioning,' he said. 'You two girls should go and get ready. Don't mind me. I'm quite alright out here on my own.'

Kerry went and gave her husband a huge hug and kiss before leading me inside.

When we were out of Linus' earshot, she asked me what I thought. Kerry has always been fond of her partners. She's always taken them under her wing, not unlike a mother duck, and cared for their every emotional and sexual need, but with Linus her pride and love has been taken to a whole other level. She's absolutely crazy about him.

Frankly, I thought Linus was a bit weird. What normal man would be sexually aroused by the prospect of his wife sleeping around? But Kerry needed a man like Linus, and I felt happy for her that she'd found someone who not only accepted her, but who loved her for who and what she was. As for Linus himself, sexual perversions aside he was a pleasant man.

'I want a man who looks at me the way he looks at you,' I replied simply and honestly.

The light in Kerry's eyes told me my answer pleased her, and she squeezed my arm and assured me that together, we would find the perfect man for me.

'I love your optimism,' I told her.

Kerry shook her head. 'No, no, it's not optimism. You're a good catch, Evie, and I'm not telling you that because I'm your friend. you just need to hold men to account. You don't owe them your company, a fuck, or a relationship. You need to stop feeling sorry for them. No man who is a real man wants a woman to feel sorry for him. They want you to fuck them because you're attracted to them, to talk to them because you enjoy their company, and to have a relationship with them because you love who they are. Don't waste your time on boys. Always go for the men. Remember that.'

'I just seem to attract the ones who are boys,' I admitted, thinking of James. I didn't miss him, and in hindsight, I can't hope to tell you why I let him emotionally beat me down. 'I can't seem to avoid them.'

'Well, tonight we're going to change that. I'm going to teach you how to find a decent man. Then you can fuck his brains out, learn how it feels to bed someone who doesn't need to make a woman feel shit about herself in order to feel important, and start dating

real

men.'

I laughed at the idea.

'You know I'm not good at casual sex,' I said. 'I need to know a man's name in order to have sex with him.'

'Uh-uh,' she argued. 'I remember Bourke.'

I blushed red. 'That was an aberration, and besides, I knew their names. I still remember them; Darryl and Simon.'

Kerry laughed. 'That was one wild fucking week. I'll never forget that trip. Now, let's go inside and get you ready. Then it's into Ipswich to see what's on offer tonight.'

~~~~~~~~

An hour later I was squeezed into a tight black dress and heels, my hair was perfectly styled, and I was wearing more make-up than I had in years.

The dress was one of Kerry's. She'd taken one look at the frock I'd bought along and told me to take it back to the granny store I bought it from and ask for a refund, before setting about finding something for me to wear.

It had taken her a couple of attempts. Kerry's a size smaller than me, and bustier, and most of her outfits cut painfully into my waist and gaped at the chest. The black dress was one of her last attempts to get me 'looking sexy' and we were both surprised at how well it suited me.

'Linus!' Kerry called. 'Come and take a look at Evie. Tell us what you think.'

Linus was in his study, but he came out at Kerry's request and inspected both of our outfits. He wasn't at all interested in me, but he told his wife she'd done a wonderful job dressing me, before his eyes roamed hungrily over Kerry's outfit. Kerry was in a tight black mini and red floaty top. Much of her cleavage was on display and her wedding rings had been removed for the night. There would be doubt in anyone's mind that we were both on the prowl for a man.

'Have a good night,' Kerry teased him, leaning in and kissing him. 'Love you.'

'Will you be coming home tonight?' Linus asked.

Kerry shrugged. 'Maybe? Who knows. I'll wake you if you're asleep when I get in.'

'Okay. Have a great time, ladies,' Linus said.

I'm not going to pretend I didn't feel an old familiar twinge of excitement as Kerry led me to her Landcruiser ute. It had manual transmission, which I hadn't used until the aforementioned trip to Bourke, when Kerry convinced the two men we were travelling with to teach me how to drive a 'proper car'. I hadn't enjoyed the driving lessons. The day the four of us arrived back in Brisbane was the last day I'd driven stick shift, but Kerry was a diehard avoider of automatics, and she shifted gear more smoothly than my Corolla's automatic transmission did as we made the half hour drive to Ipswich.

'One of my mates will be joining us for dinner and drinks,' Kerry announced casually. 'Westie. He's a civil contractor. Those boys are always good fun.'

'Is he your lover?' I asked curiously.

'No, I don't have a regular guy on the side. Those days are long gone. Don't get me wrong, I still slut it up a couple of times a year, but no regular side boys. Westie's just a mate.'

'Wow,' I remarked. 'Linus must be pretty special.'

She smiled. 'He is.'

'Did Linus know what you were like when you met him?' I asked curiously. 'Did you tell him how much you love cock?'

'Evie, they all bloody know,' she laughed. 'I don't need to tell them a thing. They find me because they've been hunting for a woman like me. They know exactly what they're in for.'

Not for the first time, I wished desperately that I'd never met James. He'd been so disapproving of Kerry that I'd almost entirely cut contact, and if it wasn't for Facebook, I'd no longer know where she lived or have the pleasure of her friendship. I was lucky, oh so very lucky, that Kerry wasn't the sort to hold grudges. She didn't remind me that I've pulled out of her hen's night at the last minute, or RSVP'd and failed to show up for her thirtieth birthday, or committed a number of other friendship sins all because James had sulked and whined and carried on so much, and made me feel so damn guilty for wanting to step outside the house, that I'd given in to his demands.

'What's that frown for?' Kerry asked.

'James. I was thinking of James. I can't figure out why I let him have so much control over me.'

'I can't answer that one for you, but I can promise you that if I ever see you with a dickhead like him again, I'll

force

you to leave him.'

'Thanks.'

I stared out the window as the ute ate up the bitumen. It was dusk and I was worried about kangaroos, but Kerry had a bull bar. They'd probably just bounce right off, and if they didn't die straight away, she'd pull out her rifle and finish them off.

'I can't speak to men,' I confessed. 'I can't ever figure out what they want from me.'

'You're just out of practice. Let Westie and I help you. He's a man, and I've fucked hundreds of them. Remember Bourke? That fixed you up last time you were broken.'

'God, that seems like a lifetime ago.'

'It was, almost. But if you did it then, you can do it now.' Kerry glanced over at me. 'Let go of your sensible side, Evie. Let everything go. Just forget about everything but having a good time.'

I considered her words.

'Sounds tempting,' I admitted.

'So do it. Let your hair down tonight. Have a good time, and fuck, don't worry about what anyone might think. You've only got one life.'

Adrenalin surged through my veins.

'Okay,' I said. 'I think I might. Tonight, I want to be a slut. I want to see what it's like.'

'I plan on being a complete slut tonight, too. Linus goes crazy when I come home reeking of another man.' Kerry chuckled with laughter. 'I'm going to make him and I both very happy tonight.'

We both burst out laughing.

Not long after, we reached the pub where we were due to meet Westie. Kerry parked and we checked our hair and make-up, hopped out of the car, and adjusted our outfits.

Kerry put her arm around my shoulders as we walked towards the entrance.

'You're going to have a good time tonight,' she said seriously. 'No frowning, no worrying about ex-boyfriends, no thinking about how you'll be hung over tomorrow. Just cut loose and enjoy yourself.'

'Yes Miss,' I said meekly, mimicking one of her pupils.

'I'm serious, Evie. Stop worrying about what people will think of you. Focus on what

you

want.'

I nodded. 'I will.'

Kerry released her grip. 'That's my girl. Now, let's go find you a man for tonight.'

The first man we met was not a prospect, but Westie. He was drinking in the public bar and playing Keno when we arrived, but he put his card and beer aside as Kerry hugged him tightly and introduced me.

Westie shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. His hands were heavily calloused, his grip was firm but not aggressive, and his smile was warm. He wasn't a pretty specimen, but he was ugly in a wonderfully masculine way and his grooming suggested he was just as interested in picking up as Kerry and I were.

I tried to imagine going home with someone like Westie and my stomach flipped. He was a lot more manly, for lack of a better word, than James. He was shorter than my previous partner, probably around five foot ten or eleven, with a solid build that bordered on overweight. His torso was slightly too long for his legs, and he had tanned skin, deep blue eyes, and dark brown hair, but it was the way he smelt that really got me going. He smelt divine; crazy good, and the humour in his face suggested he knew how to have a good time.

Westie smiled at me, and asked if Kerry and I were hungry.

'I am,' I replied.

'I am, but I'm not eating,' Kerry said. 'Linus makes ridiculously huge meals, and I fight a daily battle not to end up the size of a house.'

'Kez, there's nothing fucking to you,' Westie argued. 'If you think you're fat, then I have news for you.'

'I'll say,' I agreed. 'The only dress of hers I could fit in was this one, because it's nice and stretchy. She can afford to eat a steak.'

The argument was one by Westie and I, and we headed to an adjoining steakhouse where we learned that Westie had already booked a table some hours earlier. Westie just shrugged when Kerry asked him why he'd done that, and told her there was no way he was going out drinking on an empty stomach. I was grateful he'd had the foresight and determination to eat. I'd entirely forgotten that Kerry preferred to consume her calories in liquid form.

As we took our seats I found myself staring at Westie. My God he was spectacularly ugly. The more I gazed at him, the more I marvelled at how someone who wasn't the least bit good-looking could seem so attractive. I wondered how many women he slept with, and if they were pretty.

'How did you and Kerry meet?' I asked him.

'She picked up one of my mates at a bar,' Westie said. 'They came back to my house for a fuck.'

'Do you live nearby?' I asked.

'He lives at Kalbar,' Kerry said. 'His property is in between two working farms.'

'A country boy?' I asked.

'You'd call him country, I'd call him city,' Kerry told me. 'He's from one of those towns that are too far out to be suburban, but too close to Brisbane to be country.'

'I'm from Beaudesert. I moved out to Kalbar for the land,' Westie clarified. 'Suburban neighbours aren't too fond of me storing earthmoving equipment and trucks in the back yard, regardless of how big the block is. The farmers don't give two shits. They're both bigger slobs than I'll ever be.'

'His house is a disgrace,' Kerry told me. 'You should see the views from his back veranda. It

should

be beautiful, but he's got a compacted roadbase yard, excavators, trucks, all of this shit in it, then out the back he's got half a bloody hobby farm. Last time I went there he'd bought a peacock.'

I laughed at the mental image.

'I've got three kids,' Westie explained good-naturedly. 'They wanted a peacock. The sheep and steers were supposed to be slaughtered a year back, but the kids got attached and my ex-wife told me I'd traumatise the kids if I served them up for dinner. Hamburger, Steak, Chop and Mutton got an indefinite reprieve.'

'How old are your kids?' I asked.

'Reagan's eleven, Kiana's eight and Cody's five,' he replied. 'You have kids?'

I shook my head. 'No. Maybe one day.'

'Don't do it to yourself,' Kerry urged me. 'You spend all day teaching kids, you know what they're like.'

Kerry's always been adamantly childfree. I've always sat on the fence, but the older I've got, the more I've thought it might be nice to have a baby or two. It's probably just my biological clock ticking, but damn, it's getting hard to ignore.

'Nah, they're good fun,' Westie argued. 'They drive you nuts when they're all at home and bored, but you miss them when they're gone.'

'How long have you been separated for?' I asked.

'Three years,' he said. 'My wife came home from the Boxing Day sales as the kids and I were sitting down to eat Christmas Day leftovers. She sat down, buried her face in her hands and said; 'I can't do this anymore'. Then, bang, out of nowhere she got up, packed a suitcase, and left with the kids.'

'Oh my God,' I exclaimed. 'Had you been arguing?'

'Nope, nothing. I thought we were rock solid,' he shrugged. 'We got a divorce and now I get the kids every second weekend, and every Wednesday afternoon.'

'That's shit,' I remarked.

Westie gestured helplessly. 'It was, but after a good six months moping around, I figured I might as well have fun for a while, loosen up, that sort of thing. I was pretty much where you are now.'

'Terrified of trying to pick up a complete stranger, but figuring if you do, you'll feel better for it in the morning?' I guessed.

Westie laughed. 'That's the one.'

A waitress approached and took our orders. We chatted about general run of the mill stuff; anecdotes about our jobs, places we'd eaten out recently, and how nice it was to be in a cool, air-conditioned restaurant on a hot summer's night.

Our meals arrived; salad for Kerry, steak and salad for me, and steak, chips and pepper gravy for Westie. We drank a little during dinner, but not much. We were taking it slow.

When our meals were finished Kerry and I headed to the bar while Westie went outside for a cigarette.