Butt Lovely Pt. 02 - Stormy starts.

I can't help but laugh remembering his flailing and chagrin.

"He did seem a little unduly fascinated by certain things." I giggle.

"But there was a definite spark there, Julia. I could see it in your eyes. Oh my god, and his. I thought he was going to stop the game to eat you. I've tried to set him up before you know, and he was always polite but vague. I don't know what his ex did to him but it must have been brutal. You... I wish he looked at me like that. If I was twenty years younger... Damn..."

"I know. No-one's looked at me like that since Carrie and it makes me afraid. I think I was looking for reasons to hate him."

"Well he rather liked some bits of you and if I can offer a little womanly advice, it would be to put those bits in a nice swimsuit and go and see if you can rekindle that little spark that you let turn into a blazing passion. That sort of passion should never be wasted."

"Damn it." I owe him an apology and it's one of three things that I absolutely abhor. "You're right."

"Usually, but can you please let Dud's know that."

I dress with her help. She selects a demure little yellow sundress that on the hanger looks sweet as sunflowers. On my frame it looks whorish. I wear a simple one-piece bathing suit underneath.

"Perfect." She announces. "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

"I look..." My tits are just... And my arse...

"Trust me sugar, he's a goner."

"Do you have any liniment?"

"Oh! Smart girl."

"I am a nurse."

"One moment."

Voltaren Osteo gel in hand, I drag my embarrassed and flouncy form to the poolside again with three beers.

"Here she is." Uncle Dud's says. "My favourite niece. Absolute talk of the Birmingham ladies club. Quite squarely ranks, you know. Embarrasses a few men on the occasion."

"I'm sure you do, Jules." He says straight to me like I didn't just light a fuse under his bottom. "Come on. Sit. Dudley is telling me all sorts of embarrassing stories about you."

"Oh. You." I frown and hand him a beer. "And you. Take this and bugger off." I hand Uncle Dud's a beer. Then for fortitude I roll the cap off mine with my finger and tip it at them. "Cheers."

"Cheers." They chorus and Uncle Dudley wanders laughing back to the house.

Most impolitely, I plonk myself upon his lap. He reclines in a sun lounge and I just sit across his thighs like I belong there. After my first long, fortitude building swig of ale I lift a leg to straddle his thighs, (it's well short of any rude business, but close enough to suggest it,) and say, "Right. If we're going to be friends, I have a few deal breakers."

"Right love?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I absolutely abhor bad breath and bad kissers."

With that I put my beer down and move forward enough to grab his neck and pull him to my face.

Oh dear. It was the worst kind of mistake.

He tasted like beer. Beer and heat. Beer and heat and promise. Beer, heat, promise and longing. His tongue tasted like it belonged in my knickers. His breath smelled like I could overdose on its manly woody molten... oh god my swimsuit is already wet and I'm nowhere near the water.

He pushed me off. HE, pushed ME, off.

"God, Jules I'm sorry."

I have no idea what for and then I suddenly do. It's pressing rudely into my thigh.

"Haha, well that's a good test of assembly," I smile knowing I have tipped the equilibrium back into a court that I now control, "So... Those two out of the way..."

He raises an eyebrow again.

"Apologies. I detest being wrong. So, lose the shirt." I brandish the Voltaren gel, "And let me get about this bloody apology, then Davy."

"Davy?"

"Don't be a prick now."

His warm laughter and lost shirt tell me the day is not lost. I squirt gel into my palm and warm it for a moment before smearing it on his scarred shoulder.

"Oh dear." I run my fingers firmly along his bones and muscle structure. "Quite a decent, what did you call it? Bingle. Quite the bingle indeed."

He groans as I rub the gel in. I am quite good at this without being conceited. Volunteering during my nursing studies with local rugby teams gave me plenty of experience. Plenty, of massage experience as well.

"So, collar bone is plated, Acromion too. Lots of calcification in the Transverse humeral ligament. Quite the bingle, Davy. You said a horse did all this?"

"Technically the ground and a rock did it. The horse just launched me." He laughs as I squirt some more gel in my hand. "I was helping Dad muster and the old girl spooked at nothing, put in a pig rut and threw me. Broke the head right off the humerus, collar bone and bits of the clavical. Tore all the tendons in my cuff and quite a lot of ligament damage. Was six weeks in hospital and the surgeries didn't seem to end. Worst bit was the damage to the Humeral head. Best thing for the shoulder is movement in the joint but movement inflames the joint because of bone chips to the ball end."

"Can't win." I tell him. "Do you still see physio?"

"No."

"They could help some."

"They tell me to do all the things I am already doing and recommend pain killers to deal with the pain of the process."

"So."

"Painkillers are the problem. This I can live with." His eyes are serious for the first time since I've seen them today. The edacious burn is replaced with some kind of downtrodden thing.

"Look. If we're going to be friends as you suggest, then you need to know I'm an addict. Two years clean now but still fronting up to meetings. This..." He taps his shoulder, "Ended my career. This..." He taps his head. "Destroyed my life. I was trying to get back on the circuit as soon as possible and the doctors gave me all sorts of things. I needed more and more of them over time and I knew it wasn't just for pain relief. Without them I was someone else. Someone I didn't know or like. Mean."

I had lived with Carrie for the best part of three years and never had such a real conversation.

"So. Into rehab... Was there for three months the first time. When I came out Karen was gone. The wife. She had shacked up with my manager. That sort of sent me spiralling back into rehab again. Was there six months that time and when I came out there were divorce papers and settlement things. It was kinda lucky really that she was with my manager because he was bloody careful with my investments knowing that she might get some. Off I went again."

His shoulder needs no more rubbing, so I drop my hands to my lap and listen.

"Back into rehab. Out a few months later and I guess time helps these things." He rubs his shoulder. "The injury was settling. I met Dudley through one of the meetings. He was struggling with gambling. And here I am. With a pretty little English girl sitting on my lap talking shit about myself."

I laugh at his narrative. "Well, it's a familiar story within athletic circles. And specifically, prescription painkillers are known for their addictive nature. But it's the first time I've heard it told by someone who didn't minimise their responsibility for it."

"No point keeping secrets. They just bite you in the coight when they get out." He winks again.

I realise I'm squinting at him after a moment, "Well, I'm sorry for earlier. I grew up the youngest of five. I have four older brothers and doting parents. I've been molly-coddled my entire life. I wanted to play rugby, they signed me up for tennis. I wanted to ride motorcycles, they bought me a pony. I wanted to study marine biology, they cajoled me into nursing. Getting the picture, lovely?"

He smiles and nods.

"So, I jumped to conclusions and reacted a little too passionately. I'm very sorry."

He watches me with those serious eyes a moment too long and then nods slowly, "Love, that is the best apology I've ever been given. First the kiss. Then the massage, now an explanation and a sincere 'sorry'. But I won't accept it."

I guess my confusion is reflected on my face because he laughs and continues but this time with that hunger in his eyes again, "Never. Ever. Apologise for your passion. But thank you for sharing it. That kiss was truly something. I've never had a friend kiss me quite like that before."

My nervous giggle interrupts him momentarily, "Look, the hole I was trying to fill with drugs was the place my passion was supposed to be. I'd been passionate about tennis from the time I found that racket and ball when I was six. I spent every day after school whacking that ball against the bricks on the shed until dark. Then suddenly it was all gone. I had passion still but no idea where to invest it. So, I put it in a cage and like all wild things when you trap them they waste away. It was only when Dudley got me into sports marketing that I found my passion again. So, my beautiful new friend, never apologise for your passion. At least not to me."

What a truly lovely man. If all Australian men are like this, why didn't I visit the colonies earlier?

"I have a secret too, lovely Davy. I don't really want to be your friend." I wink as seems to be the custom.

With that I took hold of my hem and lifted the little yellow dress right up over my head. It took a little shimmying and tugging to pull it past the girls but when I threw it to the tiles the look on his face was priceless. I'm sure he wasn't expecting the swimsuit.

"Instead, I'd like to maybe find out what else we could become. But first, a nice man suggested I should cool down earlier. I'm going for a dip, Davy." Before slipping off the tiles into the cool water I giggled watching him adjust his trousers.

The cool water and the simple act of trying not to drown is both invigorating and purging. My mind relaxes from the day's emotion and my body releases tension with every stroke. I'm not a fast swimmer given my frame, but I am a strong swimmer. Well, at least I'm positively buoyant. And he seems particularly fond of my flotation devices.

"How fucking old are you, anyway?" He asks thrusting a towel at me as I climb the stairs.

"It's rude to ask a lady her age." I wrinkle my nose at him. "And twenty-'fucking'-six if you must use the vernacular."

"Get fucked." He laughs. "I've been feeling like a fucking pedo all afternoon. I had you pegged at eighteen or so."

"How old are you Methuselah?" I scrub the welcome harsh dry cotton on my English sun-deprived skin.

"Thirty-three. But you look... I... Sorry. Anyhow, Moll's wants us up at the house for something. She'll be trying to talk me into staying the night or something. Happens every time."

"She's got the hots for you, Davy." I smirk as he blushes and tries not to watch me towelling my curves. Thirty-three is 'doable'. "So, Davy-Davy, if I promise not to chuck a right wobbly like a proper babby, will you help widdle me up to the housey wousey so I don't twip and hurt my tosie wosies? You pervy old dude."

"Nah... I think you got this toots. Oh, sorry, not too patronising for you Princess?"

My raucous cackles fade into distant memory as his yowl fills the air. A wet towel is a precious tool and that flick was pure brother trained merciless beauty.

"Study... Please, if you... Well... Things..." Dudley tells him, smiling at the way we're holding hands. "Ah... Manilla... Production and, god, I have no idea who to bribe."

They leave me with Aunty M, who brushes my cheek with her palm and says, "You might need to be careful love, you're glowing like a green streetlight."

"Pff... Dirty old man. I'm just playing with him. And look at you... Gushing around over him. It's a wonder Uncle Duds hasn't got the twelve gauge out."

"Eh... He's used to it." She gestures at some glasses and an ice bucket and laughs.

"Your mission should you choose to accept it." She raises an eyebrow and continues in her best James Bond voice, "Is to get a few of these into the young man and convince him to stay the evening. I've a lovely lamb roast in the oven, some pinot noir and I've made up the guest room."

She eyes me quite seriously, purses her lips and twists her eyebrows into her best 'spanish inquistion', "And I saw that kiss by the pool, young lady. Tell me... Exactly how did it taste?"

Again, with the wet pants...

"Ngoargh... Aunty M... My god. I... Just... I shouldn't and I want, but he feels so dangerous and what if I... And then he... Fuck... Just look... Don't... You stop this thing... I'm... I have no handles. Nothing to grab and last... I felt... Carrie, you know. I can't." And then I'm crying for no fucking reason. To again, 'use the vernacular'.

"Isn't it fucking lovely?" My beautiful Aunt whispers against my hair as she holds me in a soft hug to her shoulder. "Isn't it fucking something?"

She holds me a moment too long and I erupt, "Why do you fucking care even?"

"My motivations, Julia are truly noble. I've been trying to get him back on a horse since I learned his story. I'm sure between the two of us, we can get him... back in the saddle..."

Her pause is profoundly laden with rude and meaning in equal portions.

"He hasn't ridden since the accident. I don't know if it's worry he'll be thrown again or... He won't really talk about it. And women... He dates a little but never anything serious. Probably the same story. I don't know. Help me prepare the vegies. You know Dudley doesn't need his help at all. I just promised him a blowjob if he kept Davo busy for a couple of hours."

"Hahaha. She's yampy as, our old wench." I laugh at her. "Be a sweety Duds and I'll throw in a gobby. You tart."

"There are two ways to a man's heart, either by the willy or between his ribs with a sharp knife." She shows me the filleting knife she's using to peel pumpkin. "So, Dudley will waylay him until it's too late to politely refuse a dinner invitation from a pretty young pommy girl." She winks naughtily, "And I'll insist that he stays the night so that he can enjoy a few whiskey's with Dudley. You, my dear girl, are going to bat your eyelashes and shrug your shoulders a lot."

"My shoulders?"

She glances down at my cleavage, "It seems to interest him."

"You grotty woman." I laugh, "Are you trying to pimp me on the house guest?"

"Nothing of the sort but sometimes a bloody good bounce in the sack is just the thing. I may even throw old Dud's around the bedroom later."

"Eww... Aunty M. You go play up your own end. I don't have any earmuffs."

"Oh..." She puts down her knife and wipes her hands on a tea towel. "Look. He's had a rough run of things, Davo. I know you have too but please... I don't know how... Look. You're both young and there's an obvious attraction. If you just want to roll him in the hay, then good on you but please don't play games with his heart."

"Aunty M? Is that the big sister, 'I'll break your legs if you hurt him' talk?"

"Something like it." She grimaces and gets back to peeling pumpkin.

"Look. He really is quite a sweetheart but I don't even know if I'm ready to roll anyone in the hay, as it were. That kiss was lovely, but it was... well it started as an apology and..." Great. Just thinking about it sends heat to my knickers. "I'm enjoying his company. I'll play nice. I find I quite like him and damn it, I don't even know if he wants to see me again. I'd like to maybe go on a date or something. I don't know. I've only just really met him."

"Sorry love. I talk too much. Just enjoy yourself. I have no idea what sort of advice or things your mother would have to say, but just follow your heart."

"Ha. Mumsy would have him trapped in a corner while she tried to ooze all over him. She's such a tramp. I suspect the only reason Father puts up with it is because he's worse. Anyhow. I need another shower to get rid of the chlorine. Are you right with this lot?"

"Didn't need any help to begin with, love."

From my bedroom window where I sit and check emails and social media, I can see clouds beginning to darken the western sky. The sun is low over the tall gums and long shadows paint the lawns. I've been stalking his social media and it's been thoroughly pointless. It's a wasteland of short, clearly managed releases. Obviously, someone still does his media for him.

A message from Carrie is bolded in my feed. I hesitate before clicking on it. It's been at least two months without any contact. And why now? Why now, when my heart has been skipping all day with possibilities?

[Hey Babs, I'm sorry for how things went. Just thought I'd let you know I'm off back home. Broke it off with Tina and out of money. I took my chances and I accept my lot. I hope things are well for you. You deserve a lot better than what I gave you. I leave on the twentieth if you'd like one last coffee. Love, Carrie.]

My first thought is, "Damn, now she knows I read that and expects a reply." I don't fucking need this today of all days. My second thought is, "Great, blarting again today." As I burst into tears.

I'm not even sad. These are tears of frustration and echoes of grief. The grief contrasts starkly with the hope I'd been allowing myself to feel and the simple flutters of attraction. Typical Carrie timing. She could always twist the knife.

I stare at the reply box as I sob. All sorts of emotions swirl through me. Memories of happy times with the little red-haired lady assault me. It's just coffee... Maybe meeting for coffee...

A voice outside distracts me and I leave my cross-legged spot on the rumpled bed. Outside I see Dudley standing beside the little car that Davy had... "Davy?" I ask myself. The affection in the sobriquet spotlights this moment and carves away the conflicting emotions. I watch as Dudley beams and hands Davy the keys to the funny looking little car. Then I deliberately take up my laptop and answer.

[Hi Carrie, Sad for your news. Say hello to our friends back home for me. All the best. Take care, Julia.] No one will ever call me 'Babs' again. I'm no-one's baby. I'm sad that things didn't work out for us. I'm sad too that things didn't work out for her and surf-barbie. But I'm happy for the little girl in me that is just a tiny bit excited about this man whose hazel eyes devour me. This man who smiles at me like I'm the best thing he's seen all his life. This man who sees me and doesn't want to change me.

This too, may not work. But I'm going to open my heart a little and explore it.

Rearranged and dressed again in my sunflower yellow sundress, this time with a matching bra and knickers set instead of the swimsuit, I wander happily downstairs. A weight of sorts has lifted or a fog has cleared or some such metaphorical moment, and happiness creeps in through all the crack of me.

"Oh dear. You look..." Aunty M smiles at me. "Radiant. Come on the boys are looking at Davo's new car. Let's take them a beer and make the right noises. Stupid expensive toys..."

"What is it? Is it a Mazda?" I ask. I know it's a Lotus Elise but the look on their faces is to die for. "Is it fast?"

I pass Dudley his beer and Aunty M gives Davy his. His mouth is open and words should be coming out.

"I like the colour, it's the same as your dress Julia." Aunty M says, taking my lead, "Kind of banana."

Uncle Dudley blusters, "Look here, girls. It's a Lotus. Very expensive you know. Fast too. And it's Norfolk Yellow. A Cup 250..." He's shaking his head and I can't help laughing and giving the game away.

"The Bathurst Edition too." I add. "I thought they only came in white."

His smile is beautiful, "I had it painted. White was boring. Thought one day, I'd meet a pretty girl who liked yellow."

"Oh..." I tell him seriously, "You're staying the night. Guest room is made up. I'm told Aussie boys aren't allowed to resist polite dinner invitations from pommy chicks."

"Oh. Um, I had some... I guess..."

"God Davy, don't make me have to throw in a gobby like Aunty M did to get Uncle Duds to distract you all afternoon until it was too late to politely refuse dinner." Dudley blushes crimson.