Payback Ch. 02

'We need to find somewhere to stay the night,' Angus said.

'I thought we were staying with your family,' I said timidly.

'We're not staying with them anymore,' he muttered. 'I'm sorry I took you there. We shouldn't have even stayed the night.'

Hot tears of gratitude and relief pricked my eyes. Angus noticed, reached over and picked up my hand. I compared the colour of his skin with mine. I hadn't considered the implications of a relationship when we first got together. The only thing I'd ever really thought was 'my family won't like this'. I'd been ignorant, oblivious to the outside world, cocooned in my own little bubble.

'We're so different to everybody else, aren't we?' he asked. 'You and me. You're like me. I'm like you. And nobody else will ever understand it.'

'No,' I agreed. 'Only you and me.

He shifted his chair so he was sitting next to me, not opposite me, and kissed my forehead. I leant into him, loving him, needing him.

'I got cranky at your Mum,' I confessed.

'Really? She rang me and said not to be mad, but she'd upset you.'

'Really?' I asked. I tilted my head a bit and kissed his chest. 'That's... odd. I got the impression I made her angry.'

'It's probably just a misunderstanding,' he said.

I didn't think it was, but I didn't want to deal with it. I just wanted to forget about everything for a while.

The storms passed and we rode slowly around town, checking out our accommodation options. Angus and I were fortunate in that money wasn't a huge issue, just something we both needed to be mindful of. Our employers had both agreed to pay our leave entitlements in small, weekly portions over the three months that we'd be away, so there was money coming in regularly, and we'd saved up in in the months prior to the trip to cover the shortfall, but we were still careful.

We found a backpackers that offered good rates, and they told us we could have a four bed dorm to ourselves for the usual, shared, rates, if we took it for a week. We were both tired and needed to rest for a while, so we paid for our room and I went down to the laundry to do our washing.

Angus and I had fallen into our assigned gender roles with barely a second thought. I doubt he would have even known how to switch on a washing machine or where to find our vacuum cleaner, but it rarely grated me. If we were short of money or one of our relatives needed financial help, Angus saw it as his problem and would ask for overtime at work, and if our iron died, it was up to me to source and buy one. Everything was neatly divided.

I pulled out one of my new books and started to read as our two loads began to cycle through. Until this point I'd assumed I'd read every genre. And, certainly, I'd read every genre that Angus & Robertson, Borders and the local public library offered. There had been sex in the stories I read, and on some occasions it had even been slightly graphic, but it had never been anything like what I read that day. It had never been pure sex.

I blushed even though there was no one else around, snapped the book shut, and tried to ignore the unexpected, physical reaction I was experiencing. Oh my God, what had I just read? I picked up the book and read the blurb with new eyes, this time noticing the 'erotica' tag on the bookstore's price tag. Erotica. Woah.

I tapped my fingers on the cover of the book. Was it decent to keep reading it? It was really just... porn. It was porn, just in written form.

Unable to resist, I picked up the book and took up where I'd left off. The protagonist was giving a man a blow job, and reading through the play-by-play details, I began to realise her techniques were quite a way different from mine. I read and re-read and re-read what she'd done. Then I laid the book on my lap and considered what Angus had said a week or so ago, when he'd told me our sex life wasn't what it should be.

The washing machines were only twelve minutes into a forty minute cycle. Angus was currently lying in our room, and I was sitting here, doing nothing but feeling hot and bothered and enlightened.

I decided to head back to our dorm room and see if my husband was amenable to letting me practice my blow job skills on him. Angus was dozing on a bunk bed when I entered the room, and I almost thought about returning to the laundry when he stirred.

'Hez,' he murmured. 'Come here and give me a hug.'

I went over and squeezed into bed alongside him. He'd gained a few pounds during our relationship and was now on the wrong side of a hundred kilos, but I loved him as much as I ever did.

'I've left the washing to go through the machines,' I said.

'Okay,' he said. He never argued with how I did the housework. 'You want to have a nap with me?'

'Um, no,' I said. I propped myself up on one elbow, then lowered my head and kissed him. 'I want to try something.'

'Mmm, you can try whatever you want if it involves a kiss.'

'Good.' I kissed his jaw, his neck and his shirt-clad chest. He smelt nice, but he always smelt good. It wasn't cologne or anything, just him. 'I want to give you a blow job. I want to try something new, and I want you to tell me - honestly - if it's better or worse than normal.'

He laughed hoarsely.

'Can I?' I asked.

'Yeah, uh, go for it. Great.' He grabbed me face and kissed me happily. 'I wish I could be half as good to you as you are to me.'

I thought that was a funny thing to say, because he was just the most wonderful man. I loved him so much it physically hurt. But I was anxious to try my newfound techniques, so I didn't say anything, just set about kissing and touching him until he had a full erection. I put my hands up his shirt and felt his chest. He wasn't very hairy, but he had a few whorls of dark hair, and the cutest damn nipples I'd ever seen.

We were giggling and kissing as we eased his jeans off, and we both laughed and joked around as we tried to find a suitable position for me to suck him off. It's harder than you might think in a backpacker's bunk bed. In the end, we had him sit on the edge and I knelt between his legs. He had to lean his head back a bit to avoid hitting the top bunk, but when I asked if he'd prefer to do this another time, he shook his head vigorously.

'That doesn't look comfy,' I said suspiciously.

'I'll deal with it,' he replied, with the enthusiasm of a man who's about to get head.

My husband's cock was only five inches on a good day, a little less the rest of the time, so it was relatively easy to work with. I started by kissing him up and down the length, and when that received a positive reaction, gently sucked his balls. Angus moaned and stroked my hair, which was already a vast change from his usual reaction to blow jobs.

Inspired, I continued by gently suckling the crown of his cock. I thought about how nice it was, how lazy, to give fellatio without any fears or expectations. The afternoon was quiet and all I could hear was Angus' breathing growing steadily heavier.

'More Hez,' he said pleadingly. 'Just like that but take more of it in.'

I took a bit more of it into my mouth. Angus gently moved my head up and down, and I understood what he was trying to show me. I grabbed his length with one hand and began to gently masturbate him while sucking him.

'That's so good,' he whispered. 'A little bit harder, please, but not as hard as you usually do it. That's... fuck, that's perfect.'

Angus scooped my hair into his hands and held it to the back of my head in a ponytail style to keep it out of the way. I glanced up around my mouthful of prick and saw he was staring at me reverently. I moaned a little bit, to show that I was enjoying this as much as him, and he gasped and shut his eyes.

After a minute or two he asked me to again increase the speed and pressure, which I did. He began to grunt and shift around uneasily on the bunk bed, and warned me that if I kept doing exactly what I was currently doing, I was going to get a mouthful.

I kept going. His excitement was turning me on, and I felt slick and wet between my legs. I wondered if later, he'd be amenable to returning the favour.

'Wait, no,' he said, pulling his cock out of my mouth.

He leant forward and yanked at my shirt. I helped him take it off, then removed my bra. I was now on my knees in nothing more than a pair of jeans, my tits swinging free. Angus grabbed one in each hand and roughly fondled it, before getting to his feet and standing above me.

'Stay on your knees,' he said, taking his cock in hand. 'I'm going to come soon. Lick my balls again, please. Lick them while I wank.'

I shut my eyes tight and leaned in. His balls felt very tight and he was now quickly working his hand up and down his shaft. A series of groans and grunts escaped his lips, and I was wondering what he'd like to do when he came when I felt a blast of cum against my cheek.

'Hez,' he groaned, holding onto my head with one hand and cumming over my face. 'Hez, fuck, fuck, fuck.'

He'd never cum on my face before. I was surprised, not offended, and when he'd finished orgasming, I asked what I'd done wrong.

'What?' he asked.

'What did I do wrong?' I clarified. 'Why did you stop me sucking you and finish yourself off?'

He pulled me to my feet and grabbed his shirt, using it to wipe my face clean. 'That was amazing,' he said. 'Nothing was wrong. Sorry for doing that on your face. I... I just got too turned on to think.'

'Oh, I don't mind if you want to cum on my face,' I assured him.

'Really?'

'Yeah, really,' I said, taking the shirt and using it to properly tidy myself. 'It doesn't bother me at all. I just... want to make sex better for both of us.'

'You did. That was insane.' He kissed me long and hard. 'Helen... thank-you.'

A few minutes later he was between my legs and this time it was me giving directions.

I read a lot of erotica during our time in Katherine, and Angus and I had a lot of sex. All of it was good. Great. I sucked him off, he ate me out, and we fucked each other senseless. By the time we finally hit the road for Tennant Creek, there was a guilty light in both of our eyes.

2017

Auntie Rose's hair was now grey, and she'd lost weight as she'd aged, but she was still full of life. She smiled at Pearl and I when we appeared at her front door and ushered us inside. She told me to come in, put my feet up, and have a cuppa.

'I'd love to, but I can't stay long,' I said.

My mother-in-law stopped in her tracks. I could almost see her mentally connecting the dots; a request to baby-sit Pearl, my newly cut and styled hair, and my reluctance to hang around and spend a few hours' catching up.

'You're going out tonight,' she stated. 'With a...' she paused to ensure Pearl wasn't listening. 'A man.'

I nodded guiltily. She didn't know about the men. When I went out to pick up I used my sister Anne as a baby-sitter. Anne adored Pearl, and never questioned my excuse that I 'needed some me time'.

Auntie Rose's face wavered for a second.

'I'm a silly old woman,' she scolded herself. 'I'm not ready for this.'

'I, um, it's not really serious,' I said. 'It won't last. I just thought...'

'... you don't need to explain yourself,' she said, ushering us into the kitchen. 'It was bound to happen.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Is he a whitefella?'

I nodded.

She let out a sigh. 'That makes it easier. I don't know why, but it does. I don't need to compare him to my son.'

'He's the complete polar opposite. He's skinny.'

My mother-in-law laughed. 'Skinny,' she repeated. 'If he's any good, bring him around some time. I'll fix that.'

'He wants to show me his car,' I told her, pulling milk out of the fridge. We still had our routines that we held together; we could still make a cup of tea or clean a small child or weed a garden together. We were more in sync than my mother and I were. 'That's the only thing the men I find have in common. They like fast vehicles. I don't even care what they ride or drive. I would have married my husband if he rode a pushbike.'

I was always careful to avoid using Angus' name around his family. I wasn't quite sure if and when it would become acceptable to use it again, and because I was no longer as close to his family as I once had been, I couldn't pick up on the clues and hints that they once gave me.

Tea was made, and Pearl wandered off to the lounge room to find Auntie Rose's cat, a ragdoll my husband had bought her shortly before he died. Pearl loved the cat. The cat wasn't quite so fond of Pearl.

With little ears safely at a distance, I decided to be frank with my mother-in-law.

'I think I need to take Pearl around here more often,' I said. 'I'm losing my knowledge of your culture. I can't guide her when she's away from you.'

'Does your new man not like her?' Auntie Rose asked warily.

'No, no, it's nothing like that.' I stirred my tea restlessly. 'It's... it's the sort of things that you can only learn by being around someone. It's learning 'what happens in this community' versus 'what happens in more traditional communities', and how she should behave. All I can teach her to be is a white person, and she's not. I feel like I'm letting her father down. He trusted me with her.'

'Are you worried that if things become serious with your new man, you won't be able to fulfil your promise to her father?'

'Yes. Yes, that's it one hundred percent. It's not that I think the new guy is a sure thing, far from it, but it's made me think. I... I don't want to leave her in no man's land.'

'Now that makes sense,' she replied, relieved. 'You bring her around whenever you want, and you come around, too. You didn't stop being welcome when you became a widow.'

I shrugged helplessly. 'I can't explain it. I just don't want to intrude.'

'You were never that, and you never will be. If your whitefella works out, bring him around. I'm very experienced at pretending to be impressed by motorcycles and cars. I can make all the right sounds and ask the right questions. He'll never realise I don't have a clue about what he's driving.'

'You actually are very good at that,' I agreed.

'I know,' she said, and we both burst out laughing.

I left ten minutes later, after having said good-bye to Pearl, and headed back home to prepare for my date.

Date. Was that the word? Did Ciaran want to impress me, and did I want to impress him? He'd called me again, the day after I had to end our phone call, to organise for us to 'catch up'. I asked him if he wanted a repeat of what we did last time and he said 'no, I want something more'. He'd also said he wanted to take me out for dinner beforehand. He wanted to enjoy my company, not just sex.

To my intense surprise, I'd found I wanted his company, too. I'd been secretly delighted he wanted to see me again. Now, with our reunion just an hour and a half away, I began to grow nervous and second guess myself. I wanted to somehow ask Angus what he thought of Ciaran, and if he thought I should start thinking serious thoughts about him. It was an utterly preposterous desire if ever there was one, but I would have liked my husband's opinion, because he had always been a good judge of character.

I applied a light coat of make-up, slipped into sexy red underwear, a knee length dress that showed my cleavage but hid my flaws, and heels. I was significantly more dressed up than I had been when Ciaran and I first met, and I searched through my jewellery box for an earrings and necklace to finish the look.

Angus never bought me an engagement ring; my only ring was a diamond set band that he'd given me when we married, but years later, he'd said he felt guilty about not having the money for both, and he'd bought me countless pieces of jewellery for birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases.

My husband was not the only man who'd loved me during the course of my marriage. There had also been Pearl's father, Raf, and he, mimicking my husband, had bought me jewellery. One year my husband had bought me a ring that perfectly matched the earrings Pearl's father gifted me. I picked these two items up and put them on.

Ciaran arrived twenty minutes later. He came to my door, dressed in jeans that fit him like a glove and a button down shirt. He hadn't shaved for a few days, but the stubble was perfectly manicured, and it suited him.

'We meet again,' he said with a wry smile, handing me flowers.

'Indeed,' I agreed, accepting the flowers. 'Come in. I'll have to put these in water.'

Angus and I had upgraded from a three bed one bath home to a four by two five or six years before his death. To afford a larger house on the same salary we'd had to sacrifice a few things, and this one was decorated in uninspiring beige tones and on a small block, but it was near to a playground and had met our needs.

'Your house is almost identical to mine,' Ciaran said. 'I'm not kidding; we even have the same floor tiles.'

'The same beige, beige, and beige?'

'I prefer to think of it is 'caramel, sand and off white',' he joked. 'They must've been built by the same people.'

'The sad part is our place had been a rental when we bought it, and the carpet in the bedrooms was shot,' I said, reaching into a kitchen cupboard for a vase. 'You know what we did?'

'Got a carpet layer in to replace it with exactly what was down before?'

'Bingo!' I found a vase and filled it with water. There was a little plant food sachet attached to the cellophane wrapping and I tipped it in, then arranged the flowers. 'How did you guess?'

'I would have done the exact same thing. There's just so much of the same thing it's hard to know how to change it. Besides, kids make a mess.' He glanced around. 'I never thought to ask, but you have a child at home, don't you?'

'I do, but she's not biologically mine,' I said. 'Pearl. She's four. Her father was a foster child of ours.'

'Indigenous?'

'Yes.'

'Where's Pearl's Mum, or can't I ask that?'

'Incarcerated. Pearl and I visit every two weeks.'

The expression on Ciaran's face was one I'd seen countless times on countless other people's faces. There were generally three ways people reacted. It was either 'dump the fucking kid back with it's own people before you end up in serious hot water' or 'another clueless fucking white bitch playing Mum to a child she effectively stole from a black woman' or 'for fuck's sakes, let the abo's kill themselves off, don't try and save them'. Ciaran was white and from Inala, a highly disadvantaged suburb with a large Indigenous population, so he was either going to be the first or third group, and I didn't want to establish which one.

I must've started frowning or glaring, because he apologised.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It wasn't my intention to suggest you were stupid or doing the wrong thing. I hated growing up poor, so I dumped and ran away from childhood friends, and from Inala, as soon as I could. I know why you'd have to take the girl to see her mother, I'd just find it hard to actually go through with it if I were in your shoes. I wouldn't want my kids having 'parent in jail' as the baseline of human behaviour, because you set the bar too low. I want the bar up here,' he said, gesturing to his waist. 'Not down here, near the floor.'

'Trust me, I understand that, too. I don't agree with you, but once upon a time I would have. I fell into this by accident, not on purpose.'

'Because the two of you couldn't have kids of your own?'

'Yep,' I said, pushing a yellow gerbera into a better position. 'Infertility's a curse I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.'

'That's tough.'

'Yeah, but it also gave us a lot of good times together and we grew closer because of it. You've been in a relationship, so you know how it is; if you go through a temporary tough time, or a difficult experience with someone, it draws you closer.'