I met her at my daughter's eighteenth birthday party. A fresh faced girl with lollipop eyes and lips of raspberry kisses. She had pale hair, almost white but I knew straight away that was an illusion created by the craft of a hair stylist. When my daughter, Rebecca, introduced us her smile poured sweet honey on my soul and I knew I was hopelessly in love. Miserably in love, as age-wise she could have been Rebecca's twin while I, after forty-six summers, was definitely 'uncle' material at the very least. Cindy Holbrook gave a hip-high wave as my daughter told her, "My dad, Peter Farrell"
"Hi mister Farrell." Her voice tinkled in the warm summer air and an image of crystal wind chimes flickered briefly in my mind.
"Charmed, Cindy." Great, I managed not to stutter or drool while my handshake was dry and firm without being overpowering as I grasped her delicate fingers and squeezed briefly. My generation doesn't shake a woman's hand. It has never been etiquette with us. I let go and felt a sad tug somewhere inside as if I had just lost something dear to me.
We must have chatted for nearly twenty minutes. Me, managing charm and elocution while Cindy tinkled and giggled at my jokes. I could sense Rebecca becoming restless, wanting to get away from her Daddy for a while to be with her friends so it was expected when she spoke.
"Well daddy. Have a great time huh? I'm going to mingle. Coming Cindy?" And they were gone. I glanced around at the moderate crowd on the lawn trying to pick out where she had gone but although I thought I'd caught a glimpse of her sky blue dress for a second I couldn't see her anymore.
Bill McGregor approached me, thrust a can of beer into my hand then began a rambling conversation about the worsening economy and the state of the world. I tuned out although I nodded each time he paused for my view. My eyes searched through the throng hoping to spy my angel in the blue dress.
"...Your round I think."
My mind snapped back as Bill's damp can touched the back of my hand. I looked at his ruddy smile then down at the empty green can boldly emblazed with the letters 'VB'. It had left a small damp spot on my hand from its condensation.
"You got it, Bill. Coming right up." I took the empty container from him and shouldered my way to the ice tub where numerous cold green cans of VB beer nestled in the slurry. Every few feet a voice would greet me or a hand would pluck my sleeve so that it took me several minutes to travel the short distance. Finally reaching the tub I dipped my hand in seeking a couple of 'coldies' while my eyes turned towards where Bill stood. He was already deep in conversation with one of our local mechanics, his hands zooming around like two airplanes in a dogfight. Beers in hand I began to negotiate the crowd vectoring my journey around people's back and avoiding any attempt at conversation with a quick smile or shrug.
Bill took the can from me without interrupting his diatribe and that was the moment I saw her again. She was alone, sipping on a drink the color of tropical sunshine, standing at the edge of the crowd, leaning on the patio rails, looking towards the distant hills. There was no reason to excuse myself as Bill would hardly note my departure so I sauntered towards her, casually disposing of the full can of beer I had retained by leaving it on a small table.
"Hi." It was all I could think of to say at the moment.
"Oh, hi Mr. Farrell. Enjoying the party?" Again those crystal chimes tinkled. I smiled and she took it as an affirmation.
"And you?"
"Yes..." She turned those large green eyes to mine and somewhere in their depths I saw a shadow flit. "It is a lovely party."
I'm not the world's most sensitive guy...As far as I'm concerned 'snag' is still slang for sausage (My daughter says it is an acronym for Sensitive New Age Guy). However on this occasion I felt a small hint of sadness in the air as Cindy looked once more towards the hazy blue folds of distant mountains.
"Do I detect an air of melancholy?" I teased.
She sighed. One of those 'little girl' sighs that included a rise and drop of the shoulders and she turned her face up to the sky, eyes closed.
"It's nothing. I guess I still miss Travis."
"Travis?"
"Travis Jolly. He is...was my boyfriend."
I could see a miniature tide rising at the bottom of each eye threatening to spill like a teary waterfall down those beautiful alabaster cheeks. I felt a bubble in my heart and my hand fell lightly onto her shoulder, my thumb gently caressing her left shoulder blade.
"Want to tell me what happened?"
"He's gone...left...went up to the Northern Territory to find a job nearly two months ago. He hasn't written or phoned." A tear trickled from her right eye creating a shining rill down her cheek. She dabbed at it with one finger and sniffed.
"And have you tried getting hold of him?"
She nodded sniffing again and her head came down briefly on my hand, the one on her shoulder. Her hair felt cool and soft as sunlight then it was gone leaving only a phantom tingle where it had touched.
"No luck huh?" Yeah well, no shit Sherlock! I felt her begin to tremble a little and knew that a full on gusher was imminent. Suddenly she turned into me and buried her face in my chest.
"Oh, Mr. Farrell. I get so lonely without him."
My arms encircled her instinctively while my eyes searched the nearby group of people for any that may be watching. No one was, as music had started and many were jiving to hits of the past while others were deep in conversation.
I felt her young body meld against me. Supple young flesh against my aging body. Firm young breasts not long past puberty pressed into my chest while the scent of her hair intoxicated me. My left hand was patting her back and I was trying so hard to concentrate on consoling her but I could not stop the stirring in my trousers. I know she must have felt it as she pressed herself harder against me and her teary face tilted up, her lips curled for a kiss.
"There, there sweetness." I murmured lifting my left hand to stroke her hair. I smiled down at her upturned face then risked a quick peck on those lovely raspberry lips before carefully disengaging from her embrace. I saw a fleeting frown of disappointment but then her bright smile returned.
"Sorry Mr. Farrell. I guess I got a bit emotional huh?" She put her glass on the broad patio rail, gave a little laugh and used both palms to towel the tears from her face. "I don't suppose you'd want to walk with me a while." She pointed across a field that dipped downwards into a valley a few hundred metres away where a shallow creek meandered through a copse of trees. "I just need to clear a few cobwebs so I can get into party mood."
"Delighted to." My jocularity was somewhat forced and I was painfully aware that I still had half an erection but I turned and walked beside her down the dirt path leading into the valley.
* * * * *
We had dropped below the line of vision afforded from the house but were still a distance from the trees when Cindy came closer to my side. I felt her long, delicate fingers questing against the palm of my hand. Without conscious thought about it I wrapped my strong fingers around her slim ones and we were holding hands. I felt a tsunami crash and wash inside my chest as emotions cascaded. Looking at her I saw a smile that held secrets while wicked sprites danced in her emerald eyes.
"You have the expression of a naughty school boy caught in the girl's room." She laughed that musical laugh and skipped a couple of paces sideways, facing me as we made our way down hill.
"Do you like me Mr. Farrell?" As she said it she tossed her head, thrust out her breasts and wiggled her ass all somehow without stumbling. I was impressed.
"I think you are one of the loveliest girls I have ever known." I replied. I was laughing too but there was a nervous tremor in my laugh and I felt a tremble throughout my body. My balls were beginning to ache with the sudden surge of testosterone demanded of them. Holy shit, but this wasn't right. I was having sexual thoughts about this girl. It was almost as bad as lusting after my own daughter also slim with nice breasts and...STOP IT! I shook my head slightly glad that Cindy had turned to look at the tree line momentarily.
"You know just over there by the creek is where I lost my virginity." She was simpering as she said that, her lovely verdant eyes looking straight into mine anticipating a reaction, putting pressure on my hand as she leaned her body to drag me in the direction where she pointed. "Come and I'll show you the exact spot. It is so romantic."
I had a wicked sense of where this was all heading but somehow I didn't care. The last time I had sex with my wife, Laura, was over three months ago and I must admit I was a little fed up with her 'headaches' and 'wrong time' and 'too tired' excuses. I might be forty-six and over the hill - so to speak - but hey! I still woke up with a hard-on two mornings out of three. Besides masturbation is pretty two-dimensional when compared to the 'real thing'.
I was slightly breathless, though I tried not to puff too much as we entered the trees. Lovely sunlight pooled on a grassy bank tinted green by its passage through the trees while the leafy canopy caused dappled spots of shadow to chase about. A clear stream burbled as it flowed over smooth pebbles and down small six-inch waterfalls while birds added song to the symphony of the day. It was pleasantly warm with the sun slightly west of its zenith and we stood in this slice of heaven, face to face, our bodies a few inches apart, our hands clasped. Her breasts heaved nicely under the thin blue fabric and I was glad I wasn't the only one slightly short of breath.
She saw where my eyes dwelled and her smile chased away any shadows that might have lurked. She took the pace forward that brought us together and our bodies met; hot young flesh against hard old gristle - at least that is how I viewed the communion.
