This is submitted as part of the amazing
Pink Orchid 2022 for Women-Centric Erotica Challenge
. I know that some readers may find it challenging, but I encourage you to read with an open mind and perhaps reflect on the trees you are planting today.
~*~*~*~
Although I yearned for silence, noises were all around me. Soon, the sound of Nadia's car tyres traversing the gravel track back towards the main road were but a memory, but insects, frogs and birds all worked at creating a cacophony that was far from the quietness I had expected.
It had been a strange day, landing in a rural city I had only visited as a speaker over a year before and meeting Nadia again, a distant colleague, I suppose, who was excited I had chosen to retreat up here, trying to pen my first book. In my mind, I knew I was running away, but at least I was able to tell family and friends that I was heading north to work on my manuscript, glad that the university had given me at least a six-month sabbatical.
Of all the places I could have escaped to, I had chosen here, a shack on a sugar cane farm, where not only did I know no one, but no one really knew me. Some would say they knew of the feminist academic who appeared from time to time in both mainstream and alternate media, arguing the plight of the modern woman, despite the advances the so-called women's movement had made since before my mother was my age, but I doubted they would recognise me in the street and hurl insults my way.
I found it strange how men who claimed I was the problem, and no one would ever want to fuck a feminist like me, still sought me out in the street and believed that I would actually like to experience their penis anywhere near my body with attitudes like theirs.
Pitching the notion that although men and women are fundamentally different, until men can let go of the patriarchal structures that lead to a society that still sees women as
less than
in many cases had been a no brainer to the publisher who had heard me talk at a seminar and read many of my columns. What surprised me, though, was the idea that men still needed to be reminded that they were responsible for their actions, and the way they related to others was more about them than about alleged provocation.
Friends had offered me cottages and beach shacks down south where I would be within driving distance to home, but I had chosen to come here, away from my comfort zone and away from well-meaning friends who I believed needed a break from my woes.
As I unpacked my case and hung clothes in the wardrobe, I was grateful for this space. It was perfect. An open-spaced shack with a kitchenette and bathroom. Views to the hills at the front, the path to the creek at the back, and cane fields to either side.
I was setting up my laptop, having moved the desk to sit beneath the window that afforded views of the hills, when I heard the sound of tyres again, this time, getting louder as they approached before they slowly stopped, the sound of the slam of car doors almost muffled by the voice of the girl I had met an hour or so before.
"She's really beautiful, Dad, and she said I can call her Gigi, and she's got purple hair, and—"
"That's enough, Lou; what have I said about describing people by their looks?"
I had contemplated opening the door and waiting for them, but I did not really know what to expect or what was expected of me, so I waited for the knock.
"Ms Golding? Hi, I'm Ben Burrows, I think you've met Lou earlier?"
"Gerry or Gigi is fine," I did not correct his titling of me, the same way I had not corrected his father when I arrived. Calling me Doctor seemed to be a little officious, anyway. "Nice to meet you, Ben, and yes, I have met Lou and Snowdrop before."
Snowdrop sat at Lou's feet, a strange name for a blue heeler cattle dog, but I was sure Lou would want to share more about her as my stay lengthened.
"Um, Dad said you should come and join us for dinner, seeing I haven't got your car ready yet. Sorry again, but I forgot it needed new tyres. Here, um, some groceries, just bread and milk and some homemade jam, eggs, bacon, fruit and granola, really."
"Thanks, but as I explained to Mr Burrows, my colleague and her husband are going to collect me for dinner tonight. Perhaps some other time? Thanks for the groceries; it's not necessary, but appreciated."
"What about tomorrow, Daddy?" Lou looked from her father to me, "Daddy's a real good cooker."
"Look, can I play it by ear? I don't mean to be antisocial, but I'm trying to sort of, well, get away from people and just write."
"Totally understand. If you need anything, you've got the number for the main house. Dad's usually around. I work during the week and Lou's at school, but it's no trouble to get anything you need. It's the first time we've let out the studio and I hope it's ok. There's towels and soap and stuff in the bathroom and well, I hope you'll be comfortable. C'mon Pet, Gigi needs to get working and Melanie will be here soon."
I thanked Ben and farewelled him and his daughter. I figured Lou was nine or ten, but I had never been one to correctly guess the age of children. Being an only child, I had no nieces or nephews to gauge these things by.
Leaving school, I had no real idea what I wanted to do with my life. I enrolled in an Arts-Law degree at university and ended up dropping the law component after a semester having discovered the gender studies faculty. It was like finding a family or a home. I excelled in my undergraduate degree, received first-class honours and numerous scholarships to write my PhD, focussing on the role of men in gaining greater gender parity.
At uni, I had several relationships and spent a great deal of time exploring my sexuality with both men and women. Despite a six-month relationship with Dawn, another gender studies student, I had come to the conclusion that I really preferred cock. It didn't hurt that I met Troy, and it was lust at first sight. I was in the final year of my doctorate, and I ignored all the red flags, all the warning signs that showed me what Troy was truly like. The sex was so good that it was easy to ignore the little things—him rarely staying the night, me seldom going to his home, and when I did, him living alone in a four-bedroom house.
After two months together, I discovered I was pregnant. A condom had broken, so it was not totally a surprise. Troy pretended to be excited, but I told him from the start that it was the wrong time for me to become a mother. With my head held high, I walked through the protesters outside the abortion clinic as I arrived to end my pregnancy. I had always advocated for a woman's right to choose, and this was my choice. Troy supported me but was unable to come to the appointment because of a meeting he told me he just couldn't get out of.
Troy split his time as a lawyer and academic. It didn't worry me that he was 12 years older than me. He told me he'd been married once, but it hadn't worked out. I tutored part-time when finishing my PhD and was offered a lecturing position upon its completion. I had a good group of friends and loved that Troy gave me space to catch up with them—it wasn't uncommon for me to meet up with some for brunch on Saturday, another group for an early dinner, and then even more at a club or gallery. Sundays weren't much different.
Occasionally, I'd invite Troy along, but he would encourage me to catch up with my social circle. We never really did anything as a couple except have amazing, mind-blowing sex. He knew exactly where to put his tongue or his fingers, or his cock to bring me to the most earth-shattering orgasms. He taught me how to pleasure him. Perhaps it was that we only saw each other two or three times per week that made the sex even better. Occasionally we'd get away for a weekend, but every time we tried to plan a fortnight in Bali or Tokyo, something popped up.
"You go," he'd say, "Have a fling, and tell me all about it when you get back."
So, I did. But the flings were nothing on sex with Troy.
"What about you?" I'd ask as I stroked his chest hair on my return, "Did you have a fling when I was gone?"
He was always vague, telling me he almost did, but he realised it would never be what we had together, so he didn't bother. I lapped it all up thinking I had the best of everything and such an amazing partner.
Troy and I had been together for more than three years, always relying on condoms, when the next one broke and again I found myself pregnant. This was different to before, however and I thought that perhaps it was a sign for the two of us.
"Darling, what if we move in together? We could find a place for the two of us close to the uni and your chambers and become a family?"
"I tried marriage once, and it's really not for me, Gerry."
"I'm not suggesting marriage at all! Just I think I want to keep the baby and be a mother. I mean, it could be as open as we wanted; I'm not suggesting monogamy or anything."
We'd talked about our expectations from our relationship, and monogamy had never been an issue for either of us. Looking back, I wonder at how much of a relationship we really had.
"You're still young, Babe; there's so much time..."
And Troy would seduce me again. He hinted I should terminate over and over again, that I should think about my career and perhaps revisit kids in a couple of years. I made an appointment at the same clinic as before and told Troy when the appointment was. It was of no surprise to receive a text the morning I was scheduled for the termination saying something had come up and he couldn't join me.
