CHAPTER 1
The heat of a Blenheim hot and dry summer heated Micki (Michelle) Collins as apple orchardist Selwyn Peters spewed semen over her belly and breasts, grunting to end his toil in near-explosive feeling over the sweaty body of a female twenty-four years his junior.
"Thanks."
"For what?" Micki said sarcastically, her eye following the arc of the condom he'd ripped off seconds before he ejaculated and now tossed it away to land under a tree laden with apples. She thought he was mean enough to want to wash it for re-use.
Selwyn stood and looking at the streaks of white mess on her olive skin said, "Clean yourself up and get back to work."
He was such a charmer.
Micki used her panties to clean up and joined him after pulling on her shirt and overalls and footwear. They were thinning apples prior to fruit picking due to start in two months.
When they returned to the packing sheds Mrs Peters was waiting for them. She ignored her husband and said grumpily to Micki, "Please follow me."
They entered the small room used as an office and for storage and Mrs Peters handed Micki an envelope.
"There's your money, now get off my land."
"Why I'm not due to leave until four weeks?"
"Because you had sex with my husband, that's why. I saw you threshing about and screaming like a stuck pig."
"Well you know how big he is."
"Shut your mouth you slut."
They glared at one another and Micki reached out and took the envelope off the desk.
Mrs Peters said, "You're a lovely young woman but you have just been involved in adultery and in my book that makes you an utterly despicable woman. This happens most years so don't think you are unique. "
"It's only fucking, Mrs Peters. It's not Armageddon."
"Leave and leave now or else I'll set our dog on to you."
Not looking back, Micki hit the road, angry with herself. She'd felt like sex and had succumbed but the outcome was she was fired, out of work a month ahead of schedule.
She was lost in her thoughts but stepped aside for a vehicle coming up behind her. The vehicle stopped and a woman called, "Would you like a ride dear?"
Micki looked at the woman aged about thirty and said yes.
"I can take you as far as the crossroads as I'm not going into town. You'll easily get a ride because it's the main road."
"Thanks, much appreciated. I've just been fired."
"What by Mrs Peters?"
Micki sucked in breath but then thought what the heck and said yes.
The driver, who'd introduced herself as Meg, laughed and said. "Was that because Mr Peters got a piece of you?"
Her passenger sighed and said yes.
Meg laughed and said, "That bastard got me some ten years ago. I was working alone with him when he pulled it out and said, 'Do you want to suck this?' I went weak at the knees and thought I must fuck him, that I'd never had a dick that big. It wasn't lust because I wasn't running hot. I regarded it as part of my education. What was it with you?"
"Loneliness. I graduated with my degree in animal husbandry and had to find work for a couple of months before I'm due to start in my job in Aussie and this place got me out of Christchurch so here I am."
"I can offer you work cleaning motel rooms. The pay will be a bit higher than the rate for thinning apples."
"But I really want work connect with agriculture or horticulture before I return home to America."
"California?"
"Yes."
"I guessed that. I worked a summer in CA. Well you can work with my husband on our grapes."
"Are you mad, letting my work with your husband after what you know about me?"
"Well if he got to lay you I'd think he was lucky. But he adores me so is unlikely to try for a piece of you, although one never knows."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"I was looked after with great hospitality in California Micki. I'm only doing the reciprocal thing. I'm also surrounded by older females including David's mother who bullies me. Having you around will be like a breath of fresh air."
"No I can't."
"Micki, be a good girl and do what you are told. You are coming home with me and don't worry. David and I have both been married before and our wedding was only six weeks ago."
"Then you see having sexy me around will taunt your mother-in-law."
"Oooh you are very intelligent Micki."
They laughed and Meg said, "Climb in and kiss me Micki but careful how you go because I might try for a piece of you."
Micki froze when half-way into the SUV.
"Come on Micki," Meg laughed. "You should be used to Kiwi humor by now."
A month later, Meg drove Micki to Christchurch airport almost four hours away just to see her off to Australia. They had become such great friends. Two days earlier Meg had confirmation she was pregnant and was hugely excited.
"When I'm on my way back to America in a year's time, I'll pop over here to spend a few days with you."
"Oh yes, please do that. I'm so unhappy that you are leaving us. God you even talk like a Kiwi now."
* * *
The O'Toole's lived in Northern Victoria on a 'mixed farm'. They had three sons who'd attended the same agricultural university where Micki had graduated and the family offered a year's scholarship at the university to extend a top graduate's practical farming knowledge working on the family's highly intensively farmed property.
Kitty O'Toole, a wiry woman with short-cropped hair and facial skin cut into premature wrinkles by years of over-exposure to the relentless sun and wind, met Micki with the greeting, "Oh Jesus."
Huh?
"You're not only a great looker but you have a stunning body."
"Mrs O'Toole, please understand I am coming to you to work and learn, not to flaunt myself."
"You won't have to do a thing dear. Out where we are, eyes will do the talking."
Huh?
"We are fairly isolated in our district where young men think of the high living life in the cities they are missing and their two main thoughts are rain and beautiful bodies of city women."
"Rain?"
"We have a bit of a drought on at the moment dear."
"But the floods...."
"Two years ago and it could be another century because we get another motherfucker like that one."
Motherfucker? God and Mrs O'Toole had appeared to be quite ladylike. Well, apart from her skin.
"Oh and while we are at this induction, you can stop calling me Mrs O'Toole. I'm Kitty to man and beast."
What?
"Um yes Kitty. Kitty is Irish isn't it?"
"Oh stuff the crows, we are getting an educated America rather than one who asks if O'Toole is a Welsh name."
"It's an English name isn't it?"