The Fall Ch. 03

Not having ever been in anything that could possibly be described as a happy or normal relationship, Dylan was fumbling.

At lunch on Monday he went to the local pharmacy to buy condoms. Neither he nor Lydia had had any on Saturday, and when they'd made love late in the afternoon, he'd had to pull out before he came. It had been a disappointing end to what had been the best sex of his life.

He wandered awkwardly around the store until the pharmacy assistant asked what he was trying to find.

'Condoms,' he mumbled.

She pointed to the aisle to his left. 'Down there. We're out of Ansell regular. Had a rush on them this morning. Seems like it was a big weekend for a lot of people.'

It occurred to him that he had no idea what sort of condoms Lydia might want. He figured her to be the type of woman who would have strong opinions on the matter, too, so he found a box of assorted styles and took them to the counter. The assistant rung them up and handed him his change as if he were buying chewing gum.

He went around to Cyril's place after work, ostensibly to help the old man, but also hoping to catch a glimpse of Lydia. Maybe even crack open the box of condoms. They'd made no firm plans to catch up. She'd just said; 'see you around' and driven off in the Valiant.

'She's not here,' Cyril told him, guessing why he'd arrived. 'She had to go to Brisbane for a meeting with a client. Said she was going to stay at her flat and come back in the morning. She doesn't like driving too far in one day.'

'I didn't come here to see her,' he lied feebly.

Cyril snorted with disgust. 'Pull the other one. She isn't driving the Charger because you feel sorry for her.'

Cyril took him to one of the paddocks, where they gazed at the bovines lazily chewing their cud. Dylan had the feeling the old man was about to tell him not to let his heart get the better of him, but instead he asked if he'd noticed how much Lydia drank.

Dylan nodded uneasily. 'Yeah, mate. Does she ever slow down?'

'She has two days off the booze each week. Tuesdays and Thursdays.' Cyril gave him a hard look. 'She pisses the bed. Wakes up hungover as hell, but still goes out jogging. She'll stops sometimes to vomit on the side of the road.'

Dylan took it all in. 'Why does she do it?'

'Your guess is as good as mine. I was actually kinda hoping you might be able to clean her up a bit. She'd be a good girl for you to have by your side.' Cyril coughed. 'Fuck this weather. It's too bloody hot. I'm going back inside. Go home. I'll send her around tomorrow.'

Dylan got the hint. He went home and started work on Lydia's car. She was a mad sort of woman. Crazy, but not in the way that left him worrying that she might cut off his dick while he was sleeping, more in the sense that she did what she wanted, when she wanted and seemed to be very happy with her choices.

~~~~~~~~

Lydia sat on an old milk crate and smoked a cigarette while her new lover worked on her car. She thought of a Frank Moorhouse story, where a background character was lying beneath a car as if submitting sexually to it.

Observing Dylan lying on his back on a trolley, upper half shoved under the Hyundai, she understood the simile better than ever. Some men fought with cars. Dylan seemed to be in harmony with them, even her beaten up old Getz.

He finished what he was doing and scooted out. He sat up and told her where he was up to, but she wasn't listening. She just nodded and stared at him. He was so different to the other men she'd been with. He was no pretty boy and his work clothes, which he was still wearing, stunk of grease and sweat. All the same, she was attracted to him. She liked him.

'Okay, that's enough for today,' he said. 'Want to go for a swim?'

They'd intended to go for a swim on Saturday, but Michelle's arrival had made her wary. The last thing Lydia needed was to situate herself in the middle of the pair's arguments. Today, however, the other woman didn't seem to be around. The weather was hotter than ever and she was dripping with sweat. Her head thumped and she would have killed for it to have been one of her drinking days.

'I don't have togs,' she said. 'Would it be okay if I went in my underwear?'

'Swim naked for all I care,' he replied. He stopped and considered what he'd just said. 'Actually, please do.'

She ground out her cigarette, walked over and swatted him on the bum. 'I might just do that.'

He went into his kitchenette and opened the fridge. He was about to grab two bottles of beer when he hesitated and instead reached for a can of Coke and a bottle of water. Her mouth watered. She wasn't a beer drinker, but if he'd given her one, she would have taken it. It was now just after five. On a drinking day, she'd be three in by now. Minimum.

They walked down to the creek together. She stripped off as they went. Dylan was trying not to look, which amused her. By the time they reached the water she was in nothing but her boots, while he was still fully dressed. She took off her shoes and waded into the water. Ben followed. Dylan was still undressing, his back to her.

The water was warm and she felt something move against her leg. She jumped to the left and yelped.

'What's wrong?' Dylan asked, turning around and eyeing her curiously.

'I think there are fish in here.' She peered into the water. 'Oh God, there are.'

'Just splash around and they'll get out of the way.'

She feebly splashed the water and hoped for the best. Ben took her movements as an invitation for him to jump in, and he swam over to her. Dylan followed.

'Get out of here, you silly mutt,' Dylan told Ben as he attempted to clamber onto Lydia. He pushed the dog away. 'Go back to the edge.'

They watched the canine paddled sulkily over to the shoreline. He got out and shook, sending water flying. Lydia was standing behind Dylan, and she wrapped her arms around him and rested her face against his back. His skin was white and smooth and covered in a downy coating of hair.

'I think your uncle knows about us,' Dylan remarked.

'He does.'

'Do you mind?'

She shook her head and kissed his spine. 'No. Do you?'

'No, but I'm not the pretty one. I don't have a reputation to lose.'

Lydia laughed and ran her hands over his torso, feeling his nipples harden under her touch. She worked her way down over his hips, grabbed his arse, then moved her hands around to his crotch. She stroked his cock as her breasts brushed against his back.

He tugged on her arm. He wanted to kiss her. They shifted so they were facing each other. Their lips met, and his hands roamed over every inch of her exposed flesh, as reverent and admiring of her body today as he had been on Saturday. His mouth moved to his breasts. She could hear her nipple piercings click against his teeth as he sucked on them and she pressed his head harder against her chest.

The water was cool, the sun was hot, and a gentle breeze blew through the trees on the edge of the creek. Lydia ran her hands through her lover's hair as he paid homage to her chest. Her desire for alcohol was being clouded by a desire for sex. She wondered if Dylan had bought a condom to the creek. She hadn't.

She kissed his head and posed her question. He glanced up, smiled wryly, and shook his head. Without saying a word, he then picked her up and carried her over to a shaded boulder. He sat her on the edge so that her legs were dangling in the water.

She was impressed at his strength and told him as such, but Dylan just shrugged and kissed her on the lips. His attention moved to her neck, her breasts, her stomach and thighs. She knew where this was heading. She could remember him saying he'd never given a woman oral sex. He was probably going to have a crack at it.

He spread her legs and knelt down. She glanced at Ben and saw him watching them interestedly. She wondered idly if he was annoyed at being told to stop licking himself by an owner who was now preparing to lick someone else's genitals. Probably not. He was a dog, after all.

'Do you know what you're doing?' she asked.

'No.'

'Would you rather leave it for another time? I can shave. It'll make it easier to see what you're doing.'

'I like you as you are.' He kissed her labia. 'Show me.'

'Okay. Tell me if I start smothering you or if you want to stop. It's not everyone's cup of tea.'

He delved past her dark curls and folds of skin to find what he was seeking. Lydia leant back and idly watched him get to work. She let him find his own course, only correcting him when he strayed too far from what she wanted. A hot breeze blew over her wet skin, and as she stared into the distance she felt herself being drawn closer and closer to climax.

'You're bringing me close,' she warned. 'Just a warning that when I cum, I'm probably going to thrust into your face. If that's going to be a problem, now's the time to stop.'

He didn't stop; he just gave her the thumbs up. She glanced down at him. He was peering up at her. Curious, probably. She smiled and shut her eyes. He felt good. Very, very good.

She came with a desperate yelp, pushing herself into him, her hands in his hair. Her body contorted with pleasure and she cried out, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, until her climax abated and she fell back, flushed and content.

'Oh wow,' she murmured, pushing him away from her crotch with her foot. She was always incredibly sensitive after orgasm. 'That was insane.'

He was pleased. Proud. He washed his face and kissed her.

'You're so hot,' he mumbled. 'That taste...'

'Yeah, sorry about that.'

'No, no. It wasn't bad.' He laughed awkwardly. 'I always wanted to do that.'

She shuffled over and gestured for him to sit next to her. He hoisted himself out of the water and sat next to her. From underneath his fat, hairy belly sprung his erection.

'Come here,' he said, pulling her closer.

She did as he wanted. They kissed, and he leant back a bit to move his stomach out of the way of his cock. She wrapped her hand around it, and felt his hand close over hers. As they jerked him off, he continued to kiss her. She gazed at him, amazed at the expression on his face. It was something more than just lust. She'd have to be careful with him. Give him too much and he'd fall in love with her, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

'Oh Lydia,' he groaned. 'Oh shit.'

His hand squeezed hers and, in turn, his cock, as he came. It spilled onto his belly and their hands, covering them in white goo. His back was hunched forward and he looked pained. It had been a good climax for him, an intense one.

'Shit,' he swore one last time. He moved his hand away and washed it in the water. 'Thanks.'

She grinned and kissed him. 'We should get dressed. I need to make dinner for Cyril.'

He was disappointed. 'You're going already?'

'Mmm.' She kissed him again, this time on his nose. 'I kind of need to. When are you coming around next?'

'I don't think he needs my help this week.'

'Maybe come around on Friday night, then, if you don't have plans. I'll make you dinner. You can have the Cyril special; steak, chips and veg.'

'Do you want me to stay over?'

She frowned thoughtfully. 'I can't see why it'll be a problem. I might run it past Cyril on the night. We'll see how he takes it.'

Lydia reached for her clothing and started to dress. Dylan was not very discreetly staring at her while she did it. She hoped he liked what he saw.

She met his eye and he shrugged and muttered that he couldn't help checking her out. Her tits were out, they looked good and, well, it would be stupid to look at a dog or a creek or a bunch of trees while she was around. He was defensive about it, as though he needed to present an excuse as to why he was looking.

She took his hand in hers as they walked back towards the big shed.

'Answer me honestly; what was sex like with Michelle?' she inquired.

'It started off bad and got worse.'

'What was it like in the beginning? When did you first have sex with her? The wedding night?'

'Actually, we didn't. She said she'd had a nice day and didn't want to ruin it. Then she got her period the next day... we were back from our honeymoon before we did it.'

Lydia was incredulous. 'Did any of that strike you as unusual?'

'It struck me as disappointing,' he admitted. 'I'd kind of had a few things planned for the honeymoon... don't look at me like that,' he complained, his face darkening. 'Not weird shit. Just the usual shit resorts do, rose petals on the bed, couple's massages... you get the idea.'

'Are you into weird shit?'

He snorted. 'No. Pretty much my whole fantasy at this point is to remember to take a condom with me next time we're planning to have sex, so I don't need to pull out.'

'Oh, well that's easy,' she teased, pulling her hand out of his and wrapping her arm around his waist. 'I should go on the pill again. That'll really knock your socks off.'

His lips curled into an unmistakable smile. 'You might give me a heart attack.'

'In which case, I'll make sure I'm on top so I can get off and call an ambulance.'

He laughed and brushed his hand through her hair. No matter how curt he sounded at times, the tenderness of his touch was unmistakable. She nestled into him, finding comfort in the bulk of him. She liked the untouched masculinity of him. The strong body. The hair that covered just about every inch of him, from his head to his toes. The scent of antiperspirant working vainly to battle the sweat that dripped down his body when he was working. He was very raw, very natural.

At the shed, they made love on his couch. It wasn't particularly comfortable. He ended up taking her doggy style as she leant over an armrest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips and his cries reverberating through the tin structure. She cried after sex, which made him panic, but she assured him she was fine. She frequently cried during and after lovemaking. She always had.

Dylan was confused.

'It's worse if I've had an orgasm,' she said.

'Does this mean you didn't want me to go down on you at the creek?'

'Oh no, I did.'

He hugged her very tightly. He clearly felt guilty, even though he had no reason to. Maybe it was because he liked her, a fact she acknowledged without any vanity. She realised she only had a few weeks to figure out how serious she was about him. Any longer, and he'd start throwing the 'l' word around, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan had intended on heading to Cyril's house shortly after five on Friday. His plans were interrupted when Neal O'Sullivan showed up with his ute, a wheel bearing kit, and a request to fix the vehicle for a quick cash payment.

Normally, Dylan wouldn't have batted an eyelid at the request. Neal was the youngest of Kyle O'Sullivan's three sons, and what, eighteen or nineteen years old? He was the sort of kid who never expected something for nothing, but he was an apprentice all the same, and didn't have the money to be throwing around. If he took his ute into the shop, he'd easily be paying an extra fifty dollars for the repair, so Dylan knew why he was here, but all the same, he couldn't quite quash the irritation he felt.

'Were you on your way out?' Neal guessed, noting the look on his friend's face.

'Kinda.' Dylan inspected the bearing kit Neal had given him. 'I'll get this done first. If it's the wheel bearing that's gone you can't go driving around until it's fixed.'

Dylan changed back into work clothes and got to work. Neal sat on the same milk crate Lydia had sat on earlier in the week and apologised for coming around unannounced.

'It's not a worry,' Dylan assured him. 'I was only going to drop by on Cyril Granstone.'

Neal made an understanding noise. 'Gotcha. I heard a rumour you'd hooked up with his daughter, but I thought it must have been bullshit.'

'Niece. She's his niece.'

'What's she like? I heard she was a bit of a soak.'

'She is,' Dylan agreed. 'Her husband left her. Cheated on her with a waitress. I reckon it's got something to do with that. Can't really ask though, you know?'

'That's rough,' Neal agreed.

'It is,' Dylan said. He cocked his head in the direction of his kitchenette. 'You want to grab us both a beer?'

It was indeed the wheel bearing that was gone. Dylan wasn't surprised the boy had picked it. He was a mechanically minded kid. He worked for one of the local irrigation companies although he was still living with his father on the family farm.

'How's your old man?' Dylan inquired.

'You didn't hear? He's engaged to the fucking mole Nanna set him up with.'

That was news to Dylan. The engagement must have been very recent.

'When did this happen?' Dylan inquired.

'Last weekend. You met her?'

'Nope. Last time I saw him he mentioned a woman.' Dylan paused as he wrestled with the car. 'Fuck. I don't think I've seen him for a few weeks, though.'

'Come around to lunch on Sunday,' Neal offered. 'Bring Cyril and his niece along. I think Cyril knows Dad's folks.'

'Might just do that,' Dylan said. 'So how are things with you and your missus?'

'We're looking for a house to rent.'

Dylan was surprised. Neal's girlfriend came from the sort of fundamentalist Christian family that thrived in the country. 'I thought her father said she couldn't move out until there was at least an engagement ring involved?'

Neal grinned and held out his hand. 'Look.'

'You got married?'

'No, dickhead, I got engaged. She bought me a ring just to piss off her Dad.'

'So you're the one with the engagement ring?' Dylan laughed. 'You fucking pussy.'

'You are what you eat,' Neal replied diplomatically.

Dylan thought back to Tuesday. The creek. Lydia's legs spread, revealing to him her sex. It was the first time he'd ever gone down on a woman, and yet right from the beginning, the taste of her seemed somehow familiar. There had been something very innate and animalistic about the act. Maybe cunnilingus was more primal than he'd assumed. He laughed under his breath, and asked Neal if a wedding was in the plans. Neal replied in the negative. There was no rush.

Dylan finished replacing the bearing and told Neal not to bother about payment. The kid tried to argue, but Dylan wasn't interested in anything more than getting back into his nicer clothes and heading around to see Lydia. Neal got the hint, thanked him, and left.

By the time Dylan arrived at Cyril's house, dinner was over and Cyril was sitting out the back, smoking and arguing with the radio.

'There's a plate in the oven for you,' Lydia told him. 'I'll get it out. Sit down.'

'Sorry about being so late. Neal... Kyle's son... dropped around. He'd done a wheel bearing.'

'I have no idea who either of those people are, and I don't care,' Lydia replied, placing his plate in front of him. 'Thanks for coming around.'

She sat across the table from him and drank a G&T while he ate. He wished she wouldn't drink. It couldn't have been her first, either, he could tell from her eyes and the way she'd handed him his dinner that she'd already downed a few. Why did she do it?

'So how was your day?' he asked.

'So-so. Took Cyril to see the oncologist. Ran into one of his friends at the hospital. She invited us over to their house for lunch on Sunday.'

'Anna O'Sullivan?' he guessed.

She looked surprised. 'How did you know?'

'They always do lunch on a Sunday. Neal's her grandson. He invited us around, too.'

Cyril heard them talking and came inside. He was still smoking, as if puffing out streams of smoke into the face of someone who was trying to eat was perfectly acceptable. Dylan was beginning to spot a number of alarming similarities between uncle and niece.