Author's note: Melanie and Sandy are in Sydney, and this is what happened after the reception to launch the Australian edition of his novel. If you haven't read the previous three chapters, it will help if you do so.
I'm delighted that I can now continue this. Sorry, readers, for the long interlude between chapters: life's like that sometimes.
My thanks to my beloved partner and muse for her inspiration and assistance, and to raconteuse, whose professional editing has made this infinitely more readable.
*****
Her hand gently shaking his shoulder woke him eventually:
-Hey sleepyhead, here's your tea. This is our day, so you're not allowed to lie in. I know you got very pissed last night; you woke me when you staggered in. How was the TV show... and the party afterwards?
-Ohhhh... Good morning darling. My head's not too great now. I'll tell you presently. There are painkillers in my case.... please?
-Hope that doesn't mean you need time to make up a story love?
She placed the pills beside his tea, kissed him. Recoiled from his breath. His mouth tasted like a sewer, so he knew how he must smell:
-No sweetness, no story to make up. Sorry I'm in this state.
-Mmm. Might help if you brushed your teeth and used mouthwash. I need to shower.
He gulped painkillers and tea, staggered to the bathroom as Melanie entered the shower:
-Need your back attended to darling?
-Just clean your mouth out, you disgusting man...
She looked at him fondly:
-You're not coming near me till you do.
She was singing in the shower as he gulped the best part of a litre of bottled water. She emerged as he entered the bathroom:
-You need your shower now. And it's late. I don't want to miss breakfast, however you feel, so get a move on.
Fifteen minutes later he was showered and shaved, and they were sitting at their table overlooking Darling Harbour. No sunshine today, an unrelenting mass of grey in the sky moving slowly landward from the Pacific.
-So my silly drunken man, you ready to tell me about your day, and evening?
-You know it was pretty busy love. Three newspaper interviews, two radio slots, and of course the dinner and TV show in the evening...
He related the details over an unhurried breakfast. Including the drunken party after the TV show.
-And Ms Tellyfloozy didn't make a move on you? In light of her behaviour at the reception, I thought she would. I was a bit worried about it actually; you're anyone's with a drink in you...
She squeezed his hand affectionately.
-Um, well... she made it obvious that she was... available. I made it clear, politely I hope, that I wasn't going there. Ended up getting pissed with a couple of technicians who were strong union guys, so we had lots to exchange. It was fun, though I'm paying for it this morning. How was your day love? I noticed you dressed rather... alluringly... for your interview with Steve from the Australian Literary Review?
A broad grin creased her face:
-Um, yes, I did, rather. Karen told me it might help my interview, just how the guy's wired. A girl needs to do something to sell obscure poetry. It didn't seem to do any harm... in fact he invited me to dinner last night, and I accepted. He was charming and very knowledgeable about contemporary poetry and much else, so I had an entertaining evening. He made it apparent he was... interested in me. I told him outright I wasn't going to have sex with him, and after that awkwardness was out of the road, the evening went well. I went shopping in the afternoon; not so often I have free time in the big city. Now sweetness, I have something planned for our day, if your hangover, and your libido, can cope?
His brows rose. She didn't usually spring surprises on him:
-Darling mine, I can cope with whatever you want to do. So what's the agenda?
-I want to show you something of my Sydney love. Where I studied and lived as a student here... maybe – her eyes went to the louring sky outside – my favourite beach. I'll show you the tourist stuff before we get the train home tomorrow. But today is a slice of my personal history. That OK?
His eyes sparkled:
-Yes sweetness, I'd like that very much. Always want to know more of you... and I dragged you through some of my history in Glasgow, so fair's fair.
So she took him round parts of the University of Sydney. He was entranced, imagining her as an eager teenage undergraduate. His arm was round her waist, hand slipping to her beautiful bum frequently. She stopped outside a student residence, pointed upwards:
-That room there, third window from the end, is where I um... had my first fuck.
His cock, tumescent all morning, went rigid. He visualised her innocent cunt, accepting cock for the first time, went weak at the thought...
She read him perfectly. Her hand went to the groin of his jeans:
-Bet you wish you could have been my first darling?
Her breathing betrayed her own excitement. His hand slid up her thigh, under the short leather skirt. Felt wetness on the silk between her legs. They massaged each other gently. Both were panting:
-No my beautiful woman. I love that we can enjoy each others' sexuality fully now. That we both benefit from our experiences with other lovers, in the past. We're who we are darling, and it's a long time since either of us were virgins. Thank goodness. But I want you now. Maybe we could nip back to the hotel for a quickie?
-Hmm... tempting... But no, that's not on the agenda. Time to move somewhere else. Lunch first though, I'm hungry again... for food.
Her hand left his groin, grasped his arm firmly:
-This way...
They ate at a Korean place on the edge of Chinatown, in the shadow of the overhead monorail. Melanie ate enthusiastically; Sandy's appetite still suffered from his previous night's drinking. He didn't know how she could eat so much and still remain lithe and fit – well, he did: she burned it up with her enthusiasm for life. Rain pattered on the awning, and she looked at the clouds, face scrunched in thought:
-Looks like it might be damp on my beach darling, but we have rainjackets in the rucsac. You up for a visit to the seaside?
-Bondi Beach? You know I want to learn you. Yes, sure...
Her laughter raised heads around them:
-Dillbrain! Certainly not Bondi Beach. My private beach, quiet and secluded, off the tourist trail. You should know me better by now. Would you get the bill sweetness? Time to move.
*****
They left the train half-an-hour later, wandered nondescript suburban streets. Then there was a wee band of parkland, rolling grey Pacific surf beyond. The rain started, and they made a dash for a picnic table under a huge umbrella. There were no other humans in sight. They stood gazing east at the eternity of ocean, the next landfall thousands of miles away in Chile. His hand went to her arse, slid up under her skirt. Underneath it she was naked, and his fingers stroked between her wet labia:
-So. My darling's in dirtygirl mode now?
-I... took them off in the train toilet. Knew we didn't need them...
She was panting. Stroked the bulge in his jeans:
-We need to fuck here. Not right here, too public, don't want to get arrested. But somewhere near. Soon. Need your cock in me darling. Yes, I'm your dirtygirl now.
He held her face, gazed in her beautiful limpid brown eyes, hooded now with lust:
-So come on dirtygirl, let's find our fuckspot.
Normally on a strange beach he would have been clutching birdbook and binoculars. Now he couldn't even think. His hand was under her skirt, probing her naked arse. Nothing in his head at all. Lust, the need to fuck his woman, consumed him.
They crossed the mouth of a stream spilling onto the beach, a smirr of rain dampening their bodies but not their ardour. He pointed to a carpet of scrub just above the high-water mark. Stroked her arse again. Felt her oozing sexjuice:
-In there darling, that'll do...
She ran towards an opening in the bushes, pushed through. A few yards in was a small clearing, some grass pushing through the sand. Condom foils and empty beercans, picnic litter. She turned as he caught up with her:
-This is suitably sordid for a dirtyfuck darling. Want this hot cunt?
She raised her short skirt, pouted her wet sex at him. He almost knocked her over as he grabbed her, a turmoil of need. Began lowering her to the ground...
-My dirty sexman, a practical matter. I don't want sand in my cunt - she smiled lewdly – and neither do you...
Panting, he drew his goretex jacket from the rucsac. Bowed elaborately as he spread it over the most even bit of the clearing, kicking litter away. Grunted as he removed his trainers, and wriggled out of his jeans:
-Our fuckmat, dirtygirl.
Still standing, her gaping cunt remained presented to him, her legs apart:
-Slap your cunt, master.
-Oh jesus...
His cock rampant, his hand slapped her wetness and he watched her eyes turning up:
-More, slap it harder. Your cunt...
He watched in awe as her beloved face contorted to the blows. One arm went round her for support, as the other swung with loving precision. On the final slap she shuddered and went limp on him, her head falling back, only the whites of her eyes showing. Jesus, what intense sexuality. He loved everything about her, but this was something new. He gasped, hoarse with lust:
-The position dirtygirl, now. Have to take you.
She crouched in submission, arse high on her strong legs, cunt and anus gaping:
-Dirtygirl needs master's fuck...
-Oh jesus darling...
She grunted as his cock slithered into her wetness, the intensity overwhelming. Just cock in cunt, every part of their beings poured into this sexplay. The friction of overwhelming need. Her hand a blur at her clit as he pounded her, all her forward weight on one hand. She shuddered unsteadily under the pressure of his fucking and eventually her arm gave out and she collapsed forward in orgasm, his cock held in place by the excruciating tightness of her explosion:
