G'day Everyone,
I'm back with another story. This one is set in Australia and does contain some of the local version of English. A ute is the Aussie equivalent of a pick up. A swag is a bed roll used when camping.
The story started its life as a loving wives tale but then it morphed into non consent/reluctance with a little bit of light incest thrown in.
A big thank you to Capt Obvious for his timely help editing.
Hope you enjoy it. Please leave a comment after reading to let me know what you think.
Cheers
CharlieB4
*****
HARVEST
The heat haze shimmered off the bitumen's black top as it stretched away out in front of me. The outside temperature was thirty eight celsius but inside my Landcruiser the climate control kept it at a pleasant twenty three. The cruise control was set on one hundred and ten and the V8 diesel purred along barely raising a sweat.
In the distance a line of jagged hills marked my destination. They were all that were left of what had been a large volcano. Thirteen million years of rain, wind and ice had ravaged it till all that was left was its skeleton. Our farm was just to the south east of the national park which covered the main area of the old mountain. My husband would often marvel at his grandfather's good fortune to have drawn a block of land there in the soldier settlement scheme after World War One.
A quirk of nature meant that the district east of the national park received on average twenty percent more rainfall than surrounding areas. Add to that the volcanic soil and it was the perfect mix for farming prosperity. Not that I knew much about it. I was a city girl, born and raised six hours east, in Sydney.
My family, like ninety percent of Australians, stubbornly clung to the coast. My mum was a relatively recent migrant to the sunny shores of Australia. She'd been one of the thousands of young Vietnamese women who had escaped the uncertainty of life in her strife torn country as a "mail order bride" in the early nineteen eighties. The first marriage had not worked out but then she'd met my dad, a Lebanese truck driver. So I was a like many children of my generation in the multicultural melting pot of western Sydney. A unique hybrid of many cultures. Luckily for me I'd got my mother's French/Vietnamese looks and figure and my dad's olive skin.
The urban zone speed limit signs flashed past as I entered Gilgandra so I touched the brake to turnoff the cruise control and slowed down to fifty. I pressed the phone button on the steering wheel and asked my phone to call my husband, Justin. I had to leave the highway on the other side of town and the mobile service was always dodgy on the other road. Music stopped coming through the sound system speakers, replaced by the shrill ring tone.
"Hello," said a voice barely audible over the roar of the machine he was sitting in.
I imagined him sitting in the cabin of the harvester. One hand on the joystick controlling the forty foot front scything the wheat heads from the straw. His eyes darting backwards and forwards between the myriad of dials and the crop in front of him while the grain ran into the bin behind his head. At least the GPS took care of the steering now.
"Hi honey," I said brightly. "I'm just in Gilgandra so I'm about forty minutes away. Do you need these parts straight away?" I looked across at the large belt folded on the passenger seat and another square steel contraption with pipes poking out of it.
"No, just bring them this evening with the fuel and dinner. They are predicting a weather front to hit in two days so I can't afford to stop unless I have to."
"How much do we have to go?"
"Four days."
"Alright I'll leave you to it."
"Bye." He said and the sound of machinery roaring was replaced by music.
He wasn't much for small talk my husband. He'd always had, what my mother politely described, as an efficiency with words. Others in the family had considered him aloof and rude. At the moment his stress levels were high. He'd been working twenty hour days for two weeks harvesting the barley and chickpeas. The end was in sight but the threatening weather meant his mind was somewhere else.
Funnily enough his quiet nature had been one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place. I was sick of the city boys who just had to tell you how much they earned. How important their job was. How expensive their car had been and just generally how lucky you were that they were bothering to talk to you.
We met on a blind date. He was a friend of a friend's cousin and I was invited to make a group of five become six. I went fully expecting to have sex with my date because that would have been the reason I was invited. I'd lost my virginity in school and loved it so much I made sure I practiced a lot. My friends back then described me as a 'party girl,' my enemies opinion would be closer to slut.
Despite our different personalities we hit it off. He was polite, courteous but just occasionally he showed a flash of razor sharp wit. Justin offered to drive me home and I was waiting for him to make a move. When we turned into my street I remember wondering if he was gay. He walked me to the front door before giving me a sisterly peck on the cheek goodnight. Taking the initiative while he was close I'd grabbed him and given him the XXX version. The look on his face when he'd broken away had been priceless especially when I added in a husky voice.
"You should give me a call next time you're in town."
The next weekend he was back and as the saying goes, the rest is history. My parents loved Justin. Mum still couldn't believe that I would end up with someone so nice. Justin and my dad would talk about trucks and machinery for hours. Of course when we were alone I made sure I had his undivided attention...
Justin's parents weren't as enamored about their son's choice. The first time I met them was at a family wedding. I wore my 'normal' clothes and Justin's dad, Micheal, eyes' were drawn to my cleavage until Margaret, Justin's mum, jabbed her elbow into his ribs. The look of disdain Margaret threw in my direction was unmistakable. It was quickly replaced with a painted on smile as she kissed my cheek before moving her husband on.
Two weeks later I'd made my first trip to farm, Bundarbo Station. I caught the train to Dubbo where I met up with Justin. He was on the way home in the truck after delivering a load of barley to a feedlot further south. We got to the homestead about sunset. Margaret greeted me coolly before showing me to the guest room. It just happened to be next to hers' and at the opposite end of the house to Justin's. Luckily two French doors opened onto a verandah which surrounded the house so I could sneak out and follow it around to keep my man happy.
I'd stayed close to Justin the whole weekend, trying to avoid being alone with Margaret. She'd been super sweet to me but underneath I detected outright hostility. I was having a sleep Sunday afternoon, my nocturnal trips had worn me out, when Justin left with his father to help a neighbor with a bogged tractor. I'd wandered into the kitchen still wiping the sleep from my eyes and was confronted by Margaret brandishing a large knife. She'd informed me the boys were out but said that would give us a chance to chat. Then the bitch had come out to play.
"It will never last. You wouldn't last six months living out here." Margaret had said as she finely chopped some rosemary.
"You know nothing about me and what I'm capable of."
"I know you have good night vision. You haven't run into the furniture on the verandah yet."
I didn't reply.
"My boy is too good for the likes of you. Once you run out of tricks he'll drop you like a hot potato." She stopped cutting and pointed the knife at my crotch. "I mean let's face it, there is only so many ways you can spread your legs."
"Have you seen the smile on your boys face? I'm sure he's very happy with his choice and I've still got plenty of things to teach him. You know how it is 'mum', a girls got to save a few tricks for the honeymoon." I retorted with a smile before turning leaving the room.
Margaret's voice followed me. "You'll marry him over my dead body you gold digging whore!"
It had been so stupid of her to challenge me. I may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed but I was a competitive bitch. If she had only known I had been wondering much the same things myself. Could I live out here? Hearing Justin talk about the farm I knew if I stayed with him I would always come second to it.
Also I been intrigued about the gold digger comment. Dad had warned me farmers are always broke. The homestead was nice but it wasn't a mansion. The cottage on the other side of the farm Justin had shown me, saying he was thinking of moving into it, was a dump.
A cloud of dust on the road in front of me bought me out of the past and back to the present. Unlike the highway I was on before, this road was a single strip of bitumen one car width wide with gravel verges. I could tell from the cloud of dust it was a big truck coming towards me so I pulled over and waited for it to pass me. I looked into the back seat and boot of the Landcruiser to check on my load. Bags and bags of groceries to feed the harvest team.
