If Jill had any misgivings about how Michael might behave toward her after the night before, she discovered at dinner she needn't have worried. Apart from an initial amused smile as he greeted her, he seemed almost unaware of her presence. Jill, for her part, also pretended to ignore him, but try as she might, she couldn't refrain from glancing surreptitiously at him whenever she thought he wasn't watching.
He looked superb. He'd showered and changed after finishing work, and was now dressed in a short-sleeved blue shirt which highlighted to perfection the deep tan on his arms and the dark blue velvet of his eyes. He was lean but years of hard work had built up the muscles in his arms, and Jill could see his sleeves straining around his biceps.
It hadn't occurred to Jill before that a man could have beautiful arms, but his were. Her gaze followed them down from the curves of his upper arms, along his forearm with their cover of fine black hair, to his hands, calloused from hard work, yet now as they absentmindedly caressed the glass in front of him, holding the promise of great gentleness.
As her eyes followed the slow movement of his long fingers with their, for the moment, impeccably clean trim fingernails, Jill found herself imagining how it would feel if he were to caress her like that. She had felt those hands spanking her on quite a few occasions, she reminded herself, a thought which sent a tingling feeling rippling across her bottom and between her thighs. To her horror, she suddenly had an overwhelming desire for him to pull her over his knee and spank her—maybe on her bare bottom as he had said he would were he to spank her again. Of course, she always objected and protested when he spanked her, but now, looking at his big strong hands, she had to admit to herself that it also gave her some strange and deeply satisfying pleasure. Her heart was pounding as she remembered having been draped over his knee in the past and considered how it might be now if he were to take her across his lap again and this time take down her panties and spank her unprotected flesh. She tried to focus her attention on the meal again, but her appetite had quite deserted her. In fact, her mouth had become so dry and her throat so constricted that she was sure she couldn't eat another thing even if she wanted to.
"Not very hungry tonight," Michael asked from the other side of the table. The sound of his voice forced her to look up at him and she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. He couldn't possibly be aware of what had just passed through her mind, but to make sure she forced herself to regard him coolly. "Or is your mind just on other things?" This time there was no mistaking the innuendo.
"I guess it was," she began. "I was thinking about the paper and wondering how Tim is getting along without me."
The lie sprang easily enough to her lips and she steeled herself not to flinch under his scrutiny. Holding his eyes with her own, she dared him to disbelieve her and felt a curious sense of satisfaction tinged with fear as she saw the amusement vanish as his face darkened with an emotion she couldn't readily identify.
"No doubt Tim will survive," he said with heavy irony.
"Well I bet he's counting the days until your return," put in Vicky, her ears pricking up at the mention of Tim's name.
Jill, still watching Michael, was surprised to see a flash of—was it anger—cross his face. Her cheeks flushed with indignant colour. What business was it of his anyway, she thought hotly, and she deliberately turned her attention away from him.
"If everyone's finished, I'll clear away. No, it's okay," she added to Vicky who'd made a move to help. "I can manage."
She collected the plates together and took them to the kitchen, glad to be on her own with something to occupy her so she didn't have to deal with Michael. Not that he'd really done anything to cause the discomfiture she now felt. The first time he'd spanked her, by the river, he'd told her she was her own worst enemy, and she had to admit to herself now that, at least where he was concerned, he'd been totally right.
Consequently, she was rather glad to discover when she joined the others on the verandah that he'd bidden everyone an early goodnight and retired to his own quarters.
Conversation was desultory, and it wasn't long before Jack and Elizabeth left them and went to bed too. Vicky yawned and leaned lazily against Alistair.
"I feel sleepy as well. Would you be very offended if we leave you by yourself, Roo?"
"Not at all. I'd planned to bring my book out and finish it anyway, so I'm not going to be very stimulating company."
They all went into the house and, after wishing the other two a pleasant night's sleep, Jill fetched her book and returned to the verandah. She was very close to the end, and in under an hour it was finished.
Putting the book down, she looked out into the night. Behind her, the house lay in darkness, but outside the light from the waxing moon and the myriad of stars provided enough light to soften the inky blackness. As her eyes became accustomed to the night, she could make out the hedge bordering the lawn and in the distance could see the shadow of the sheds.
Slowly it dawned on her that she was listening to the insouciant strains of a violin. Drawn by the melody and feeling like stretching her legs before retiring, she rose from her chair, the warm air wrapping itself around her as she ventured out.
From the bushes and buildings, from the trees and garden, from every vantage point came the throbbing trill of cicadas and crickets. Now the music was louder, Jill could fancy the singing insects were also captivated by it and unable to resist joining in. She recognized the piece instantly, not only did she love Mozart with a passion, Number 3 was her favourite concerto.
As she approached the L-shaped buildings, which made up the shearers' quarters, she could see the lone light shining from one of the fifteen small rooms, which comprised them. All the others were empty save for some sparse furniture, and remained so except for a few frantic weeks each year during shearing time.
On the concrete verandah that ran the length of the building, Michael sat in a chair outside the room he'd claimed for his own. The only double room, it was much larger than the others, and he had turned it into very comfortable living quarters. The stereo from which the music was now emanating was visible through the open door, and the whole feeling was one of such serenity that, despite a touch of shyness, particularly as she remembered her last visit to this room, she didn't hesitate in joining him.
Such was the harmony created by the heavenly music and the balmy summer's night, her arrival seemed the most natural thing in the world. They exchanged only smiles as Michael rose and offered her his chair before fetching another for himself. Not wishing to break the gay enchantment woven about them by the music, neither spoke but just sat transported.
At last the last gentle, happy note sounded. There was no ponderous finale. No rising crescendo. No soul-stirring, heart-rending wringing of passion. The music just ended, as though the composer understood that the end of a piece of music is not really an end at all, but only a pause until the next one, just as he knew the end of one piece of fun, one game, was only a pause before the next one, and not the end of gaiety and happiness forever.
Neither Jill nor Michael spoke for the few minutes it took for them to return to reality, and as the echoes of the music faded, the night was reclaimed by the chirruping insects, which now continued a cappella.
"That was just lovely," Jill said at last.
"I didn't know you were a Mozart fan."
"Well, I am. In fact, you just played my most favourite piece of music of all. I guess we both heard it plenty of times while we were growing up, it's Mum's favourite, too, isn't it?"
"Yes," Michael grinned. "And mine too. So, how does listening to it in the country compare with in the city?"
"Actually, I haven't heard it for a while. I made the mistake of lending mine to a friend and never got it back. Listening to it tonight, though, has reminded me that I really must get another copy, although it's hard to imagine it could ever sound better than it does here."
"So, we have Mozart in common," Michael murmured, turning his head sideways to loo
k at her from under his lashes. "Perhaps I should find out more about you. Who knows, there might be other things as well."
"It's possible," Jill replied, trying to adopt a flippant tone to disguise the fact that the intensity in his eyes had totally flustered her. Once again, breathing was difficult, her teeth were trying to chatter, and goosebumps had sprung up all down her arms, despite the warm night air.
"How do you feel about moonlight walks, for instance? Last night's seemed to go okay." He grinned, further upsetting Jill's composure as she recalled how she'd wound up over his knee the previous evening, and she knew he was thinking about that as well.
"No," she began hesitantly, but he had already taken hold of her hand and was leading her down the steps off the verandah.
"Come on. You can't just sit around after hearing that piece of music. And I want to go and check on the horses anyway," he told her firmly. "You can come with me."
"No!" Jill tried to draw back at the mention of the horses, but he held her too firmly.
"Don't be silly. They won't hurt you. You can stay outside the fence if you want to, and so long as you don't make any sudden movements around them, they probably won't even notice you're there."
"But..." Jill tried again, but the firm grip on her hand didn't relax at all so she had no choice but to walk alongside him.
"That's better," he smiled down at her, feeling her surrender. "I shan't let any harm come to you. In fact," he added, turning her legs to rubber and making walking rather more difficult, "it was to save you that I suggested this walk. Seeing you at my room reminded me rather too strongly of the last time you were there and I was having to exercise a great deal of control not to demand a repeat performance. Do you remember your last visit?"
Jill remembered all right. How could she have forgotten?
"Do you?" he persisted.
"Yes," she muttered. He must know she remembered, and she wondered why he was embarrassing her by referring to it.
"What do you remember?"
"Everything." She didn't want to say it, but he was insisting.
"What happened?"
"Michael..." she tried again to snatch her hand away, but again he was too quick and too strong. He wasn't crushing her hand, just holding it tightly enough with his fingers intertwined with hers so that she would have to struggle sufficiently to make a scene to release it.
"Come on, Roo," he told her again, his voice even but determined. "I asked you what happened."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But I do. So hurry up and answer the question or you'll give me just the excuse I need to make that repeat performance a reality."
Jill sighed. He'd won. She had to do as he said or endure the consequences. He always won, she reminded herself, and despite that being rather a bitter pill for her independent side to have to swallow, there was a deeper part of her that found it oddly thrilling and even satisfying to have to be obedient to him. Her emotions a bubbling stew of embarrassment, defiance, resignation and willing compliance, she answered in a low voice. "You spanked me."
She could feel his pleasure at the memory, knew how much satisfaction it gave him to have this authority over her, and knew how much sensual enjoyment he derived from spanking her. Part of her wanted to feel resentful, did feel resentful, but she had forgotten how powerful this interplay between them was. It had grown gradually over the years, with long gaps when they didn't even see each other, and nothing ever overtly sexual between them. When she'd been away from the farm, she hadn't dwelt on what happened between them but when she had thought about it on the bus trip coming back this time, she'd dismissed it as something in the past. A game they were now too old for, and apart from his enigmatic comment in her room when she arrived. She had further dismissed it when she discovered he was all but betrothed to Rachel Longroh. But to her confusion, it seemed Michael had no intention of discontinuing their special relationship. In fact, after two days, it seemed he was taking it to new levels. He had never demanded she talk about it with him before.
"What for? Don't argue, Jill," he warned her, feeling her hesitation. He knew only too well. He just wanted to hear her say it. "Just answer the question."
"For hitching a lift with Steve Young."
She'd gone to Mildura with Vicky that day. There was a rodeo in town, and she'd taken her camera to get some pictures. By the time Vicky had finished her business in town and was ready to leave, however, a delay had meant the rodeo had only just begun. Vicky, expecting a phone call from Alistair, hadn't wanted to stay, but Jill had been determined to get the photos—rodeos didn't happen every day in Melbourne! While they had been discussing it, a group of local young men had come over to join them, and after hearing what the problem was, Steve Young offered Jill a lift back to River Gums, saying he was going past there to visit a mate anyway. She knew she shouldn't accept, knew he had a less than spotless reputation, but had decided in the end to risk it, reasoning that he had known Vicky and her brothers all his life, and was really unlikely to try anything in the middle of the day. And, she'd added, even if he did, which she was sure he wouldn't, she would be able to handle it. Vicky tried to talk her out of it, but Jill insisted, arguing that Steve was just being friendly and offering to help them out.
"And did you think you deserved to be spanked for that?" She felt Michael's hand tighten around hers, bringing her back to the present, as he waited for her answer.
"I guess so..." she stammered. She hated admitting it, but it had been a very foolish decision to accept the lift as she had found out. Steve had not taken her all the way back to the farm, but had pulled off into a roadside picnic stop not far from River Gums driveway. Jill shuddered now, remembering the feeling of him grabbing her and trying to stick his tongue in her mouth. She'd gagged with disgust, and for a moment truly been terrified of what was going to happen to her, but had managed to struggle free, grab her camera and leap out of the car. As she'd run back to the road, he'd yelled abuse, calling her a slut and a cock tease and other unpleasant names. But he hadn't chased after her, just driven off back towards town leaving her to walk the rest of the way home.
She'd almost cried with relief when she saw the O'Connell's ute coming towards her a few moments later, but realized she was still deeply in trouble, albeit of a different kind, when the ute stopped, the passenger door opened and Michael tersely ordered her to get in. Vicky, worried at Jill's lateness in arriving home, had found him and told him what Jill was doing. Angry and concerned for her safety, he'd immediately come looking for her. Once she was safely in his car, he'd quickly got the story from Jill and ascertained she was frightened and ashamed but otherwise unharmed. After muttering that he would "sort out Young later," he'd tilted her chin and looked hard at her.
"You've pulled some stunts before, Roo, but this takes the cake!"
"Michael, I..." she'd begun in a fruitless attempt to mount a defence, but he cut her off.
"Don't say anything. You can't make it any better and I can assure you, you don't want to make it any worse. You've already earned yourself the hardest spanking you've ever had. I'm going to tan your arse so you won't sit down for days."
"No," she'd blurted out, as fresh tears rolled down her face. "Please…."
He'd just looked at her, and she'd known it was pointless to argue. This was the relationship they'd built up over the preceding five years. If she screwed up, he covered for her with his parents, and often Vicky as well, but he punished her himself. Not all the spankings he had given her had been really hard ones, in fact the first one when he'd caught her by herself at the river had been the hardest. He was always a lot sterner with her if he thought she had endangered herself, which was one of the reasons it made it so hard for her to be angry with him for spanking her. She knew he wouldn't do it if he didn't care, and it saved Jack and Elizabeth finding out what she'd been up to and then worrying about her.
Two years later, walking with her in the moonlight down the same drive he'd driven her
so angrily then, Michael chuckled.
"You must have been sweating all afternoon, were you?" he asked.
"Yes," Jill admitted. She certainly had. On the quick trip back to the farm, Jill had been on tenterhooks wondering if he was suddenly going to stop, haul her across his knee then and there and spank the daylights out of her. But when they'd arrived back at the farm a few moments later, her bottom was still tingling with nervous anticipation, not yet burning with the fiery sting of chastisement.
With the ute back in the garage, he'd turned to her again before they got out.
"I've got to get back to work now. I suggest you go and let Vicky know you're okay. There's no need to tell her the story. You can truthfully say Steve dropped you off just up the road and I picked you up from there."
She nodded. "Okay, and… I'm sorry, Michael."
"So you should be," he'd told her flatly. "And you're going to be even more sorry before this is over."
"Oh." She had almost convinced herself that the threat of a spanking was all she was going to get. Well, in her heart she'd known he wasn't going to let her off, but she'd allowed herself to hope for a minute. "When?" she'd asked nervously, unable to decide whether it was better to put it off or just get it over with. She'd never had to wait for a spanking before; somehow he'd always managed to carry it out immediately.
"Later," was all he'd said as he got out of the car and strode back to work.
She'd put on a brave face for Vicky, but for the rest of the afternoon she'd felt vaguely sick in the stomach, and her palms had turned damp each time she'd suddenly remembered what was in store for her—and that had been often, no matter how hard she had tried to distract herself with other things.
Even now, despite the passing of so much time, Jill could still remember the sick feeling of apprehension she'd felt when, later that night as everyone went to bed, he'd got her on her own and told her to go to her room, wait for half an hour until everyone was settled, and then report to him in his room. He'd also told her she was to wear her nightdress.
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