Chapter 1
Wilson McRae had come to the city to find a good-paying job because his parents had financially assisted his brother, eight years his senior, into taking over the family beef rearing and cropping farm.
They agreed it was unfair but said their decision was based on ensuring a retirement income from the farming profits, shared 50-50 between his parents and his brother.
Brother Malcolm, the tight-arse, had only offered Wilson a reduction in weekly wage to the local average level paid to farm workers plus loss of seniority as foreman with its premium payment of 100 bucks a week.
"Sorry Bro," Malcolm said, hard-eyed. "I'm heavily into debt and need to run on a tight budget."
Wilson said defensively, "Cut out smoking weed (marijuana) and you could afford to keep me on at my present status and with the $100 premium."
"Fuck off, you complaining weasel," growled big brother.
Wilson walked away sullenly and after midnight, loaded his desired possessions into the pickup his parents had given him four years earlier for his 21st birthday and doing what had been suggested, he fucked off.
It was Saturday and he headed from the southern hills of Hawkes Bay straight for Auckland, 280 miles to the north without saying goodbye to anyone including his parents who he felt had disinherited him by signing over the farm to Malcolm at a heavily reduced price.
Five and a half hours later, he arrived in the Auckland suburb of Ponsonby just before 9.00 and the office of the real estate office he looked across the street opened its doors at the start of its business day. A babe in a pencil-black skirt and long legs, wearing a white shirt with stiff collar and black curled hair, some of it almost reaching down to the side of her boobs, looked across at him.
He continued staring, she waved and turned quickly and disappeared inside.
Wilson entered the office. The young woman he'd glimpsed earlier was sitting behind the reception desk, smiled and said hi.
"Good morning. I'm looking for a room to rent."
"What, here in Ponsonby?"
"Yeah, and fairly cheap as I've trundled up from inland of Napier overnight to settle here. I used to visit my maternal grandma here in Ponsonby most summers but she'd dead now."
"Shouldn't you have used the term she's passed on?"
"I'm from cattle country and we call a spade a spade, not a pussy-footing alternative."
She laughed.
He stared and said she had great teeth and she said he needed a shave and a hair-cut.
"Ouch."
She laughed and said he was funny.
"Coffee Nicole?" he asked, reading her name-tag.
Without hesitation, she called to another woman who'd just arrived at her desk and said that she was ducking out for 10 (going out for ten minutes) for coffee with a rental prospect.
"Um, I'll go with him for coffee while you look after callers."
"Naughty lady Kim, you're the mother of two."
"Oh, bugger. Okay, why not take twenty and in that time, you might land a date."
As the couple walked out of the agency, he said to Nicole, "My name is Wilson. You babes are interestingly chatty and informal."
"How can Kim be a babe, she's thirty-eight?"
"I've never put an arbitrary age limit on when babes ceased being babes and I rather think no one ever has. I believe the term means sexually attractive and therefore Kim can be called a babe as she looks great for her age and has a beaut pair of 36's."
"Oh, does she. What size are mine?"
Nicole cupped her boobs briefly and Wilson took his time staring at them.
"Well?"
"I'd rather not say to avoid the risk of having my nose swatted by you. No guy looks good with a bloodied nose."
"Skilfully answered," she smiled as they entered a cafe four shops along from the real estate agency office.
Nicole wanted only a short black coffee and he said, "Ah, you're controlling your diet. Perhaps you are scared of your 34B's becoming C-size."
"Omigod, you can read my mind as well as my body," she said, faking a laugh.
"You are closely the size of my girlfriend I've left behind in coming to Auckland. She was dieting and then I found an article on the Internet stating a very active sex life can hugely assist young women to control their weight and oh, boy, did I benefit."
Nicole slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her burst of huge giggling.
Gaining control, she said, "Omigod, you're not funny; you're hilarious."
Smiling, Wilson suggested that Nicole go to an empty table and he went to the counter and ordered two coffees and two slices of cake.
He placed the two plates on the table and Nicole said carefully, "And what is this?"
"A slice of every low-calorie spiced apple-cardamom coffee cake, especially made for people dieting, according to the notice beside it. The apple and the ginger largely cancel out the calories. Do not be afraid. Please eat when our coffee arrives."
"Okay, I will. But if I find even the tiniest weight gain on my breasts, I'll come after you in vengeance."
"Oh good, you are almost guaranteed to find me in bed from 9.30."
