Holly Jones Is Rescued

CHAPTER 1

Driving rain and the falling temperature finally drove Holly Jones off the walking track that followed the tops along the mountain range. She could see a back-country road a couple of thousand feet below and decided to retreat to it, hoping someone would come along and take pity on her.

The descent was slow because of the loose gravel slides, extensive areas of slippery native grasses and groves of native trees and shrubby vegetation the New Zealanders called bush. Being a seasoned tramper (hiker) Holly didn't worry when she lost sight of the road, because down was down, impossible to mistake on steep terrain and no matter what angle she deviated she'd hit the road, eventually.

Holly actually fell onto the road. Climbing down a small cutting the ground gave way. She slithered on her ass, leaning against her backpack in the hope it would stay with her and mouthing an obscenity she struck hard and bounced twice over the unsealed road. She lay still for a minute, recovering her breath and learning to live with her injured pride because she always endeavored to stay sure-footed to avoid injury.

Cold but with damp socks warmed by her body heat and hungry, she lay back on the toe of the slope and fell asleep only to be jolted out of it she didn't know how long later by the blast of a vehicle horn.

The attractive America with a muddy face walked around the right-hand-drive vehicle. Wiping her nose with the back of the sleeve of her woolen bush jacket she eyed the driver who'd wound down his window and said "Good afternoon."

"Hello. Where's your mate?"

"What mate?"

"The person you're tramping with. Or are you a stupid Yank walking the tops out here alone?"

"Guilty. My cousin became overwrought because of the unremitting rain. She hitched a ride back to the city yesterday."

Holly thought she spotted the start of a smile.

"Mud makes you look ugly."

"Oh god, do I have mud on my face?"

"My ex wife used to come to bed with her face plastered in the stuff, only she paid a fortunate for the crap."

"Oh, how fascinating," Holly said sarcastically. This time his mouth cut open with a grin.

"May I use your phone to call a cab?"

He chuckled. "Miss, are you for real?"

"Yes I'm Holly Jones."

"I meant the nearest settlement is about eight miles from here. The nearest settlement with a cab is sixty miles from here and you are in the wop-wops. There is no mobile phone coverage out here."

"Well then?"

"Well then what?"

Holly spat exasperatingly, "Where's the offer for warmth, food and shelter?"

"It's not forthcoming. You are the sexiest looking female I've sighted in yonks and I live alone."

"You have just come from somewhere. You must have seen females."

"Yeah, with a bit of imitation you could call them that."

Holly was ready to cry. "I'm tired, cold, damp and hungry."

"Jesus, why didn't you say so? Get out of the way, I'm opening the door."

For a fleeting moment Holly thought of sex. If the curly blond shaved and had a good wash he would be attractive. Actually he was gorgeous.

"Strip off to your bra."

"What?"

"Christ, can't you Yanks understand simple English. Remove your top clothing down to your brassiere."

"Why?"

"To get the damp clothing away from your trunk where your lungs are. You put on my bush shirt that will be warmed from my body and be doing that you are unlikely to develop a chill with the possibility of complications such as pneumonia."

"Oh."

"Now you are turning coy Holly. Listen, I've seen more bobbling tits than you've had hot dinners. DO IT!"

The shout startled Holly into doing what she was told.

"Christ you didn't tell me you weren't wearing a bra. Now I'm embarrassed. Here, put this on," he said, hauling off the thick red and black checked woolen shirt. He was left wearing a black muscle tee that Kiwis call a bush singlet. She felt the warmth against her skin as the coarse wool cloaked her and wondered what he impressed with her breasts.

Holly recognized the vehicle as an Australia-made Holden utility (pickup). He tossed her backpack and discarded clothing into the cargo tray.

"Go around and hop in."

"Will I be safe?"

"Yeah, providing you don't bend over in front of me when we're in the cabin."

"Is that a joke?"

He grinned, displaying good teeth.

As they moved off the guy introduced himself at Blair Andrews. "You know what I said back there I'd seen more tits than you'd had hot dinners?"

"Yes."

"You sport the best pair I've ever seen."

"Mr Andrews I'd appreciate you not talking about my body."

"Oh yeah, right. I learned in town today that the average price of crossbred wool has fallen another 80c a kilo."

That was greeted in silence.

"The Aussies are in big trouble in the cricket test in Melbourne."

"Blair if it will help you can talk about my body."

"Thank you Holly. I no longer feel rebuffed and partly muzzled. I'll now try to talk about things of possible interest to you. What part of the States are you from?"

"Chicago at present. Actually I grew up in Albany..."

"The capital of New York State. I've been there."

"You have?"

"Listen Holly, you're not the only one who travels."

"Oh, I apologize. I had no intention of being rude. Most New Zealanders I've spoken to who've visited America beyond California mostly have been to New York but you're the first one I've met who has been to Albany."

"Well my sister Eileen lives in Boston and is a surgeon married to a surgeon. I drove from New York City to visit them four years ago and stopped over two nights in Albany when I discovered it was running a summer jazz festival. I was amazed to find the city is an inland port, with ocean-going ships docking there, with vessels sailing through the canal system linking the Great Lakes and coming all the way up the Hudson from New York City about 140 miles away."

"Well, we are a long way from there in this remote area, aren't we?" Holly said philosophically.

She told Blair her parents had moved back to Illinois while she was at college and she now lived near the university where she worked in Chicago.

They proceeded in silence, Blair driving carefully looking ahead for washouts. It had been raining heavily and the downpour had resumed. It was familiar southwest weather in the foothills of the West Coast of the South Island. It blew in across the Tasman Sea complete with a nip added off the Southern Ocean that extends from Antarctica to 60 degrees south.

"Oh god," Holly said. They had turned off the graveled road and were now on a muddy track and about to move along a cutting on the side of a narrow gorge. She clutched her seatbelt and sat frozen, alarm on her face.

"Keep calm," Blair grinned. "If you want to live remotely there has to be trade-offs, and this dickey access is one I inherit."

"Dickey?"

"A colloquialism for impaired."

"Isn't colloquialism a big word for you?" asked the 32-year-old college assistant professor in English Lit.

The guy, who appeared to be two or three years older than her grinned and said cheeky bitch and Holly surprised herself by accepting that retort as a compliment. She then returned to sitting very still, eyes huge as she looked at the little slips from the bank ahead of them. The cutting was only a little wider than the vehicle. On Blair's side there was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet -- well, give or take a few feet.

Perhaps sensing her fear Blair said, "No sudden movement is helpful but Ida is four-wheel-drive and that makes her sure-footed."

Holly remained fearful but looked at him with an unanswered question. He'd named his pickup after a woman with a rather old-fashion name. What was this?

He read the question. "Named after my late maternal grandmother, Ida Blake. Of all her grandchildren I was her pet. She never said it but the other kids knew and ragged me for it. She left me this tract of 1000 acres of largely native beech forest inherited from her grandfather. I came under pressure from the Government that wanted to buy the land to preserve the forest so sold, but kept this 10-acre strip that leads up to her summer house."

"Your grandmother drove through this gorge?"

"No, like you she was a tramper. She walked in. I had the track widened to take a vehicle."

"Why would your grandmother want a summer house in such difficult country?"

"It was her grandfather's permanent home; he was a recluse. She used to come here in late spring till early autumn to write poetry."

"And she brought you here, but no one else, just like her grandfather did to her?"

"Christ, how did you know that?"

"Oh I couldn't possibly have known it. I'm one of those stupid Yanks you spoke about earlier."

They were back into open country, although very steep, and she was relaxing and so she looked and enjoyed watching his face color.

"Oh, did I say that?" That was answered with her friendliness smile.

They arrived at the cabin. It appeared to be solidly built, with closed shutters over the windows including a very large window that would give the view down the slope and to the sea about two miles away. She thought it would be old and smelly inside.

"Well, here we are. Doesn't it fit in well environmentally? It looks very much like it was when built in 1901."

Oh god, it will be primitive inside as well, she thought.

"It has been updated over the years. I ripped out all the linings and insulated the walls and ceiling before relining it but don't expect a typically ritzy American home."

"It looks er homely. For your information millions of Americans live in substandard homes."

"Oh, am I being smacked?"

"Oh no, I'm just very tired."

"We don't have running water but there is a small generator that charges batteries so we do have electric light, no air conditioning of course. Cooking and heating is supplied by an old fashion wood-fired range but I do bring in coal for it."

"How do I get water for a bath?"

"There is no bath," Blair said as they stopped.

Holly burst into tears and he leaned over and patted her awkwardly. She clung to him and cried down to intermittent sobs.

"There, you needed to do that," he said manfully. "You are a woman."

Ohmigod, she thought, thinking she was a prisoner in a "I'm Tarzan, you Jane' scenario.

"Go in while I grab you gear."

"Give me the key."

"There is no key. Way out here people wouldn't take much because they'd have to carry it but most people really determined to get in would require only warmth, food and shelter so it's open access. The simplicity of such hospitality would leave even the most mean-minded intruder rather impressed, giving him no reason to ransack the cabin."

"Him? That's rather sexist."

"Ninety-nine-point-nine women wouldn't wreck someone else's home unless in the company of unruly men they wish to impress."

"Oh, I'd have to agree with that. You are not a Simpleton are you?"

"I leave the judgment for others."

"What is your vocation?"

"Out here I'm a Child of Nature."

"Do you hike?"

"We call it tramp. Yes, and climb mountains and ski and sit in the forest you guys call woods and listen and contemplate."

"Ohmigod Tarzan, you and I have some things in common."

"Tarzan?"

"Oh, did I say that?"

He just grinned.

Only when she was inside looking around did Holly realize he'd not revealed his occupation. Ah well, plenty of time to ferret that out.

Blair came in and threw her backpack and clothes on to the bare floorboards. "I'll wash those for you later."

"And where will I be?"

"Asleep."

The simplicity of that astonished her. Of course she would; she was exhausted. She went into the bathroom and sat on the 'can'. That description was apt; it was a high bucket with a toilet seat over it. She sat contemplating until he knocked and came in.

"Excuse me?" she said indignantly.

"It's okay, I can't smell anything offensive."

Holly sat, mouth open, and decided it was not worth making a scene.

He climbed up on a small stepladder with a bucket of lightly steaming water.

"I left this morning banking up the range fire with coal, so this water is lovely and warm. I tip this bucket into the header tank up there and get one more bucket and that's your lot. When the water is finished your shower is finished. There is no control, the water finds it's way down the narrow outlet pipe and into the shower head once you pull the string you see in the shower that opens the release I've just closed."

"How primitive."

"Would you prefer to skip the shower?"

"Oh Blair, I'm so sorry."

"That's okay. How long is it since you've had a good fuck?"

Holly crapped herself. At least she managed to pass the stool that had stubbornly refused to shift until that terrible man had shocked her.

Red-faced she said, "You can't talk to a lady like that."

"Yeah agreed and as sure as hell they are thin on the ground these days, aren't they?"

Holly would have throttled him had he not be standing on the stepladder and had not been so tall. She could rip his balls out of course.

He went out to pour the second bucket of water so she completed at the toilet and scrambled to her feet and stood waiting apprehensively.

"There you go," he said, climbing down with the empty galvanized bucket. "Do you need me to undress you or can you manage?"

The withering look gave him the answer.

Holly said, "I noticed there was only one bed."

"Yeah, we share. Any further questions?"

"I don't wish to be fucked as you call it."

Blair grinned. "You'll be okay; I'm not expecting visitors."

Holly wondered what the fuck did that mean? But he'd left, closing the door, and he was still laughing at his own wit if it could be called that. An explanation would have been helpful.

"Oh god, I would have been better off staying up on the tops and dying of exposure," she sobbed. She grabbed the biodegradable shampoo, coated her hair and pulled the thin piece of rope. As the quite generous spray of water hit her and she saw it turn muddy as it ran from her face she sighed and began washing her hair quickly and soon almost felt like singing. Almost.

Fatigue set in and Holly only retained dim memory of being handed a plate of canned beans on toast and wolfing it down, sitting on a chair in front of the stove, dressed only in her panties, until being wrapped in a rug.

"As snug as a bug in a rug," he crooned.

He was so close that she managed to pull his head to her and she kissed him and she said, "Thank you for saving me. You are my hero."

Pulling away he said, "Ah, what a lovely thing to say Jane."

"Jane?"

"Me Tarzan, you Jane," he said and dropping low went to fetch his dinner attempting to imitate a gorilla.

Holly half-finished her meal and felt herself slipping away. Dimly she was aware of the plate being taken from her and being carried to the big bed.

Sometime later Holly awoke to feel the bed rocking. Although startled she realized it was just Blair climbing in beside her. He snuggled against her and she felt his hand slide down the front of her panties.

She thought oh god he was going to fuck her so opened wide. But he remained motionless, content to just cup her vulva. She fell safe and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 2

Cold air coming in through the open windows, shutters obviously clipped back, hit Holly as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was as sure as anyone could be that she hadn't been fucked in her sleep. She was grateful about that until her mind turned on her and asked what was it about her that Blair didn't like?

She froze and felt a little afraid. What was it? And then she worked it out. Apart from the tweeting and a couple of shrill cries of birds there was no other sound. She was captured in silence. Pulse rate rising Holly climbed out of bed and padded to the open door and looked out, thinking Christ it was cold. She hugged just under her breasts, hands grabbing the opposite arm and then she saw something that took her breath away. Him.

Blair was standing in what appeared to be a sandpit, wearing only boxers. Holly's lips were licked as she gawked. His body was awesome -- muscular and without much apparent body fat and straining tendons and muscle flexing as he danced in his sandpit. God, if it weren't for his irreverent ways, humor that she struggled to cope with and earthiness she could easily think she was with the man of her dreams. Realizing he was going through morning exercise involving self-discipline Molly worked out he was practicing kickboxing. She withdrew inside, leaving him to his privacy, and scratching at her ass that was probably bruised from yesterday's abrupt fall she poked around the cabin. Well if he felt he had the right to have his hand on her vulva all night then that surely gave her some domestic rights.

The first thing Molly noticed was the cabin might be a shack but inside it was tidy and surprisingly clean. Above the stove hung her washed clothes and backpack drying. What time had Tarzan -- er Blair gone to bed last night after doing her washing? He'd even washed the bra she carried to wear before entering civilization, the three camisoles, six pairs of panties and all five pairs of thick hiking socks were in the open oven drying.

On the table she found her wallet, her traveler's document pouch, make-up, insect repellant, keys and other items. She blushed noting the sanitary pads and condoms were at the end of the neat row. God, couldn't a girl have her privacy? She didn't check for her money or passport, sensing they would be there.

Molly wandered over to the bookcase, extensively stocked and in astonishment realized his reading tastes were not too dissimilar to hers... a mix of contemporary authors and some greats of literature. She blinked and pulled out a novel. As the title had suggested it was in French as were three others beside it and although it was difficult to tell if they had ever been read. Nevertheless she murmured, "Ah oui, Monsieur Andrews. You are educated."

Well educated in what?" Molly thought, picking up a copy of 'The British Medical Journal' from the coffee table. The subscription address was to Dr Blair Andrews. Mind reeling she went to the bathroom and then dressed in one of her shirts that was virtually dry and a damp pair of shorts. If nature boy handled the cold dressed in only boxers well she didn't require warm clothing. Anyway she'd fond from experience it began to warm at this height from around 11 am. She found her watch just along from the condoms and boggled -- it was 10:30. She must have slept for more than twelve hours. Holy Christmas!

"Ah it lives," he said, standing at the door, nose up and sniffing the coffee. "This is real coffee, not the crap most Yanks swill."

She raced up and pulled down his head that only the previous evening she'd contemplated screwing off his shoulders, and kissed him, long and sweetly.

"It's amazing what a good sleep will do to the spirit," he said. "At times late yesterday you weren't too pleased with me."

"Oh wasn't I?" Molly shrugged, still with her arms around him. "If you hadn't come along when I needed you I might have died during the night."

"I don't think so. You are quite a tough bitch. You would have slept to re-energize. You were carrying basic rations including fruit juice and chocolate. Which way would you have walked if no vehicles had come along -- left or right?"

"Neither. I would have continued downhill to the coast as a major highway follows the coastline, more or less. My map showed that but is not detailed enough to show your access road."

"It's a disused logging track so would appear only in topographical maps or quality tramping maps. Your map is crap."

"Thank you."

"No offence intended."

"None taken."

Remaining close-up because of her grip, they eyed one another until he said, "Let's go down to the coast and catch fish for late lunch. Dinner will be steak."