The Yellow Cottage

"Oh Scott, how wonderful for you to do that for me. I'll back some preserves for you to take to Jess. "W-will you be sleeping in Jess's bed?"

"I hope so mum. Gosh, she's absolutely amazing in bed. On our first night in Queenstown she..."

"Scott!" Marion shrieked. "Please spare me the details. I wish to retain the rather shy and rather virginal picture I have in my mind of Jess."

"Okay, if that's what you want. I'll try to picture you and dad watching porno DVD's rather than having sex."

"You asshole," his mother said calmly.

"Mum! Wherever did you learn that word?"

"From a brunette woman dressed in white not quite an hour ago. She's staying with Mrs Frazer who sent her over to register a complaint. Her description of the brutal idiot who called her dog an asshole, half-scaring it to death clearly identified you and her description of the dog with you could only be Razor. However, as she was definite you were only about to step on to the beach when the incident occurred I had to inform her I had no jurisdiction unless you had at least one foot on the sand."

"Her mutt charged Razor."

"I don't doubt you. The beast twice made a lunge at me and I noticed scars on the women's arm appeared consistent with dog bites. She seemed sensible and rather refined and didn't appear vindictive. She actually said her dog could be an asshole at times."

* * *

Jess walked ahead of Scott up the track under a canopy of native evergreen bush, listening to the birds particularly tuis, half expecting to be caught and kissed, but that happened only twice before they reached the clearing. She'd worried that some other people may have snaffled the table and had told Scott that.

"Just a minute," he said, breaking out of the first kiss. He pressed fingers into his temples, eyes closed. And then, "No it's fine, our table awaits us. On you go."

Jess assumed he was attempting to visualize the table as being free or 'seeing' people just leaving it. Either that or he was a big tease. She turned and called just as they arrived: "The table is free, just as you said it would be."

"Of course."

That was delivered without a teasing smile. She didn't know what to say, so said nothing.

As they laid out the lunch, beginning with French bread wrapped in the gingham tablecloth poking well out of the wicker basket he'd been carrying, he said, "You appear excited."

"Oh, I am. I am so excited," and she raced on to tell him of her decision to abandon the current novel and start afresh on a novel about high country farming in the South Island with the central characters based on Fiona and Angus Macdonald. "What do you think?"

Scott said enthusiastically, "I didn't think you'd have the courage to slit the throat of your current work but then again I'm beginning to learn a lot about you. Well done, it had to be done."

"No, no -- I mean the story line of my new novel. It will be about their struggle over more than twenty years to build their farming enterprise."

"It sounds okay."

Jess was about to berate him for lack of support when she realized he was not meeting her gaze. For once she put aside her excitement to become pragmatic and asked, "What do you REALLY think of my proposal?"

Their eyes met momentarily and she knew he was being evasive. "I said it sounds okay."

"The truth Scott."

"You won't like it. You'll be disappointed in me."

"I'll get over it," Jess said bravely, feeling her stomach tighten and watching his feet shuffle.

"Most romance writers produce crap that satisfies a readership that has convinced itself what they read has literary merit and content substance, whereas the producers of romance action adventure sit only a couple of notches above the fatuous kiss and tell brigade."

Standing defiant, appearing ready to rip out Scott's heart that suddenly had turned black, she choked back on calling him a literary snob. Instead she said coolly, "So you think I ought to turn to non-fiction?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Fact-fiction with a compelling story-line, far more intellectually challenging than a couple of high country farmers."

"By that you do mean fiction based on fact?"

"Yes, or even better, choose a slumbering issue and set it alight by allowing the reader to glimpse possible future scenarios delivered as having credibility."

"Like what?"

"A future generation of politicians supporting proponents to triumph in persuading New Zealanders to accept the building of this country's first nuclear electricity generation plant. That's only an example. Just think about it, have discussion with me and finally come up with a proposal with which you're more than comfortable in converting your hypothesis into credible fiction that has the reader at least almost convinced he or she is being transported into the future."

"Well, that's better than saying what I write is crap and not offering an alternative. Please open the wine and we can then continue while eating."

They'd finished lunch and were packing away when Scott said, "Is it okay if I move in at 5:00 today. No problem if you've changed your mind."

"What?" Jess screamed, flying around the table with her face flushed and smashing herself against him. "Oh you darling man who is prepared to have his reputation damaged just to pleasure me."

Scott grinned. "That's an attractive way of putting it. But since we're on that point, don't worry. By nightfall today it will be accepted that I have moved in to tutor you on the finer point of writing but no doubt I will have ulterior motives and will wear your down in the end."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

Scott said that was more or less what he'd told Peg Perkins earlier that day.

"Oh Scott, she's the worst possible person..."

Jess stopped, becoming aware of his cunning tactic. "So by this evening everyone will know and I can begin to relax. And you made out you were the instigator. Oh my dear man, how can I reward you?"

"A hundred ways, a thousand times will do for starters. Plus swimming with you, dining with you, talking with you, you being stimulating company for me. Get my drift?"

"Oh I do. Spread me out on this table and taste your reward right now."

Scott backed off and said a little stiffly. "Thank you Jess. While I consider myself sexually uninhibited, I do draw the line at scaring the natives with a public display of my versatility."

"What are you saying?"

"Someone may come along and see me ravishing you."

"Oh, you funny man. Well, hold off until this evening if you must."

Well, thought Scott. That established a difference between them -- big enough to establish a bias to work in their favour as a couple: she being more than a free spirit than he fondly envisaged he was. People too much alike wanted the same things, meaning less opportunity for negotiation, individual manoeuvring and the whole range of adjustments necessary to keep cohabitation flourishing and earning mutual respect. This was indeed a promising sign for them.

"What are you thinking?"

That startled him, finding she was on to him. He didn't wish to embark on such a profound relationship issue walking down a bush track when they ought to be enjoying nature, so picking up the picnic basket he knew he needed a diversion and answered, "I was thinking when I told my mother I was moving in with you she was rather taken aback, but once used to the idea said she'd pack me some preserves and then asked would I be sleeping in your bed. I'd expected her to send me to you carrying chicken pie and apple tart."

Jess eyed him as he pictured a school teacher would. "Well, the question about where you thought you would be sleeping would be to acquire information to establish in her mind what kind of relationship we would have rather than simply rely on suspicion. She knew not to send you in with the evening meal because I would be rushing around flustered and excited preparing to introduce you to my cooking prowess. Either that or to serve you such a terrible meal you'd be home again later than night, although Marion is not that sort of woman."

"I see," Scott said, amazed that his mother couldn't casually answer a simple question like how often she and Basil had sex yet had the insight to know she must stand back and allow Jess to accept him into her nest in the way that best suited her, devoid of outside interference. That of course merely underpinned the teaching that the female mind was remarkably complex. He watched the slight hip sway of Jess walking down the slope just ahead of him and his mind soared towards its summit where it cruised free to dwell on a single topic that linked directly to his groin. Meanwhile had he bothered to think about it, he'd know that a primary function of his brain was running in automatic mode, allowing him to function appropriately and think about ravishing Jess while leaving him empowered to see and step over exposed tree roots or skirt wet spots.

Late that afternoon after packing, Scott called his head of department at his old university to enquire about a position. Professor Stuart said she no tutoring position was available but they were lagging behind in processing field data in research on a major project for a book publisher.

The mention of research had turned off Scott's interest but the label 'book publisher' turned his interest back on. "What kind of research?"

"Attempting to define and assess the various trigger points that motivate the browser of adult fiction to pick up a particular title in an over-stocked bookshop, as invariably most are, and establish the relativity between title, author's name, cover design, colours, typefaces and size, the size and thickness of the volume, the reasons for putting the volume back quickly or considering it as a possible purchase, quality, price -- in other words, why do people buy one book and reject its companions?"

"I see," Scott said. "So our student fieldworkers watched a target browser, made notes and then collared the browser and retraced his or her steps noting the responses rather than just asking cursory questions relying on memory recall of the purchaser as he or she was preparing to leave with the purchase, their mind already focused on the next task."

"Exactly. Are you interested?"

"Perhaps Julie. Could I work from home?"

"Yes. My only requirement is you work on the project a minimum four hours a day."

"That's about perfect for me -- the usual fixed price contract, payable on completion after assessment?"

"Yes and it would include spending up to four hours with the Head of Research reporting back to representatives of the publishing house and answering questions about methodology, cross checking and from evidence of consistency in responses collected for processing develop findings about the level of influence emotion apparently plays in pre-selection and the reliability of such anecdotal evidence collected from participants."

"That's acceptable. Would I have access to an experienced commissioning editor and an experienced marketing person who are aware of this project?"

"Yes of course. I will arrange for ready access. Do I organize a contract for you?"

"Yes. How much work has been done on results processing?"

"Everything has been entered digitally but the woman we had engaged only worked on it for a week before finding she'd won an academic post in American so resigned. I would suggest you ignore her work."

"Agreed and I'll accept the job providing the rate is acceptable."

"How does $22,000 sound? The assessment work including composing age brackets and sex and annual estimate of total purchases will require analysis. Head of Research has estimated 200 hours at $150 an hour."

"Present me with a contract Julie. How's Roger?"

"Somewhere in the UK I believe. I'm now married to Stephen who came complete with two young teenagers, so I'm now a mother and very happy."

"Good for you Julie. You are laid back enough to make a great mother."

"And you?"

"Still poking around."

"I bet! Bye."

Scott sat on a seat on the foreshore thinking about his new job. It would really suit him and provide enough money to live the simple life at the beach for around a year although he'd have increased expenses living in the yellow cottage. He thought of Julie when she was an associate professor and he'd been in her office, banging her on three or was it four occasions? The word was she only went for one-off visitations so he assumed she'd rather liked him, casually arranging for the occasional encore. She was a lovely woman and often was between guys, so this one that she'd married was Mr Right. Either that or she'd panicked, realizing the clock was ticking. A ready-made family, well done Julie.

A woman in a blue bikini came out of the water, walking straight towards Scott. He looked down at the rocks below him and saw a white dress. Oh, the bitch with the bully dog.

She looked at him occasionally as she dressed and he stared, not really thinking about her except wondering why she'd even bothered to make a petty complaint about him yelling at her dog to fuck off. Then he noticed after she'd dried and pulled on the white dress over her bikini she was taking a long time to adjust her boobs.

"Like what you see?" she asked, her voice so low it barely reached him.

"A great pair but I'm the guy who scared off your dog."

"I know. You were easy to recognize because there are not a lot of young guys around her, at least guys who live here. No one is home where I'm staying. Like to come with me for coffee?" she asked, without being brazen, making it sound like she was offering him only coffee.

Scott stifled a yawn; he had no intention of doing the dirty on Jess.

"I complained to the old woman who's the beach warden but thank goodness she decided to take no action."

The cheeky bitch, Scott thought. Why say old woman?

"Nah, go play with yourself instead," he yawned.

She looked ready to throttle him but gathered up her towel and walked up the ramp beside him, not looking at him and not retorting.

He knew his response placed him in the gutter, but felt no remorse. His only thought was he should be ashamed of himself for talking to the woman like that. Dammit, he hurried after the woman.

"Look, I'm sorry. Sorry I spoke to you like that."

"Well, perhaps I deserved it."

"No one deserves to be spoken to like that. I promise to think and talk nicely when we meet again."

"Thank you. Until next time them?"

Shoulders back, Scott walked home to load the car, feeling self-worth seeping back into him. He reasoned he'd bit back at that women when she made the offer of coffee or whatever, not because of her damn dog she'd not had under control but because she was making him an offer he'd know he could no longer openly accept. Momentarily he'd felt his freedom had been taken from him. This wasn't at all like him. He guessed he was on a little wobble because he'd never been on the verge of moving in with a woman as blatantly at this. Usually he and the woman he was concentrating on had simply drifted into such an arrangement as part of enveloping consummation. In similar fashion they'd just drift out of it again.

Those other couplings had been liaisons of convenience but this time there were more elements attached, such as companionship, intellectual connection and Jess reaching out for support in her writing ambitions. Scott knew sex figured prominently in both minds and confessions had established they both knew they had come together at the top of their game. His mind chopped down a gear to wonder if Jess wanted him to impregnate her. What did he think of that? He pulled the blinds down on that thought and yelled, "Hi Razor, I'm home." Razor obliged and came to him at pace.

CHAPTER 4

Jess was standing on the front deck when Scott drove around the bend on the Council grass reserve to unload, ignoring the sign No Vehicles. She was wearing skimpy shorts and a half top that left her navel exposed and that sight rather aroused him because he was feeling a little emotional although his mother hadn't cried or clutched him desperately when he prepared to leave her house at least a fortnight earlier than she'd expected. He'd earlier agreed to her demand he'd stay home for a month before setting off again.

The smile Jess gave him shone like a beacon. He braked to a stop and she bounded around to kiss him as he stepped out of the vehicle.

"Welcome to my abode."

"Thank you."

"I've thought of three requirements: You may stay as long as you wish. You sleep with me and teach me more about sex. You continue to open my eyes to the real world."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"What about sharing living costs?"

"Please yourself. I asked you here as my guest."

"Let's split rent and general living costs down the middle."

"Okay. You mow the lawn and I'll do your washing."

"Done. Help me carry in my stuff and then come with me for a swim in the river. This is timed nicely -- the tide is three-quarters in."

As Jess stripped in front of him to put on her bikini, Scott said 'Nice tits' and watched fascinated as the skin from her cheeks to her breasts coloured a richer tone of pink. She glanced at the bed and he said firmly, "Let's go."

They ran to the water, hand-in-hand like lovers. He noticed the top of her bikini was tied with a bow. Good girl.

After a couple of excursion on the incoming tidal flow and the strong effort to make ground swimming against it, they rested in a cuddle.

"May I set up an office in the bunkroom?"

"Yes of course," Jess smiled, "but why not try working out with me in the spacious living area with its wonderful outlook?"

"I thought I would disturb you when you were writing or in creative thinking mode."

"It should be okay, but let's trial it and see. If it works out we can buy a second-hand desk for you."

Scott told her about his contract, yet to be signed, and the name of the client. He said the contacts he'd make could be useful for them as he proposed trying his hand at fact-fiction when he completed the contract.

Jess kissed him, patted him on the head and said he was a good boy and when they returned to the cottage invited him to pour drinks while she showered. He'd already seen the shower box and it looked rather flimsy so gathered that was the reason he'd not been to join her. She wasn't too long and emerged in a tracksuit and towel around her head. She sat on his knee and lifted the base of her top so his hand went exploring and found the mass of a warm, freshly washed boob. She leaned back without having touched her wine and gave him a kiss that soon had their tongues enjoined. She reached down and felt his hardness saying she really should be starting dinner but he unzipped and that action took care of them for an hour and they then enjoyed dinner in the gathering dusk, both sitting topless.

Earlier, while Jess had been preparing dinner, not requiring help, Scott went into the back garden that fronted the narrow access road to the riverfront dwellings to check behind the trellis where he found a large spa. He ran inside excitedly.

"We have a spa."

"Yes," she said sadly. "I've tried it but it doesn't go. The water was putrid so I drained it and put the cover back on."

"Did you switch on the isolating switch?"

"What's that?" She watched Scott disappear back outside, to emerge moments later smiling triumphantly.

"It goes -- I switched it on and off quickly because there's no water in the pool and what there is in the piping and pump will be foul. "I'll go in tomorrow and buy a new testing kit -- the one that's there is inadequate crap, new filter cartridges and chemicals."

"All right, but why? The river is perfect for swimming and the surf on the main beach is usually up in a sou-easterly or nor-easterly."

"That too. But in a spa looking up at the night sky, sparking wine within reach, acts like an intellectual aphrodisiac."