by Derek Haines
‘Depression and suicide at a remote Queensland mine. That’s right, I remember seeing a documentary about that.’ Suddenly David recalled many stories he had seen and heard. He thought as he slowly ate his last sandwich.
‘All this pain and suffering, and it’s nobody’s fault huh? Must make everyone involved feel a whole lot better.’
David started his new life on Monday morning. Alone and fearful on the inside. A facade of confidence. He had to get on with his life. Everyone told him that, and it sounded like very good advice to follow. In time he would learn that what he had needed was time to grieve. He didn’t know at the time that this was what he was feeling. Grief. Someone wise would tell him later, that it would be normal to grieve at the loss of a wife if she had died. Society accepts this as normal. In David’s case, not only did he suffer the same sudden loss of his wife, but had the anger because of what she had done to him. This was worse than death. In death he could have remembered all the wonderful things his wife had bought to his life. He would have had fond memories. He would have had a certainty in death.
Instead, he had not only the sense of loss a death would have bought, he had anger, bitterness, guilt, sorrow, and a painful hurt. He also had a society telling him to be angry at her, get even, call her a bitch. Forget her, get on with your life. ‘You are better off without her.’ Had David been allowed to grieve, his acceptance would have been far speedier. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.
Before he knew it, the legal process of dissolving his marriage was under way. Barely weeks after she’d left, the legal process began its assault on David’s self worth and dignity. He was expecting a quick painless process. His matter was very simple he was told by his solicitor. ‘You’re lucky there are no children involved,’ he was assured by Charlie Stewart, as if he had won the lottery.
By the time a year had passed, David would wonder what lucky meant. He would become so frustrated, disillusioned, angry and beaten. He would think, ‘If I’m one of the lucky ones, God help the not so lucky. The fathers.’ There wasn’t a week that passed by in the first year of David’s separation that the stupidity of the expression, nobody’s fault, would not enter his mind. ‘Was it nobody’s fault that a man kills himself and his three children?’
Ripples to the Shore
Steve’s life was a remarkable turn around from his life of irresponsibility, crime and sometimes just bad luck in Perth, he had shaped his life in Sydney with responsibility, hard work and determination. He accepted his past, and purposefully went about building a future. He had a secure job, an income, a girlfriend and a home. He was now the family man. He’d moved in with his girlfriend Beth, (now called his partner) and was for twelve days each fortnight, a step-father to two children. The decision to live as partners had not been an easy decision. Steve’s income was modest, and she would lose her sole parent’s benefit. As a simple financial decision it wasn’t smart. But this wasn’t a financial decision. It was a decision based on feelings, love, commitment and responsibility. Money couldn’t take the place of the security of a strong sharing relationship. It was a decision to become a family.
Once a routine was settled, and the children accepted Steve in a role of friend and second dad, the family united strongly. Money was a little tight, but they made do with what they had and what they could afford. They had no secrets, Steve had been open with his girlfriend from early on in their relationship. He’d explained about his past, and his time in jail. This was never an issue between them. The only issue of interest to them both was the future. And it was looking rosy.
The family had been together for just over three months when Steve arrived home as usual at five forty five. He parked his car in the driveway, then checked the letterbox as was his ritual. He took the small bundle of what looked like bills as usual, and the pile of junk mail and tucked them under his arm as he opened the front door. Greeted with a kiss from his Beth, and two hugs around his legs from the kids, he smiled to himself. He was a lucky man. He went to change, then returned to the kitchen. A fresh cup of coffee waiting for him on the breakfast bar. The day’s events were being broadcast by both children and Beth. He was taking it all in with a smile and nod. After most of the school activities and shopping adventures had been told, Steve started to look at the mail. Mostly junk mail. An electricity bill. A credit card bill. Two offers of life insurance. And one nasty shock.
His mouth fell as he read the letter. It was from a legal firm in Perth advising him that they were acting for the mother of his daughter, who was now aged fifteen. The letter informed him that proceedings would begin within fourteen days in the Family Court, should he not be agreeable to a new arrangement with regard to child support payments. The letter went on to suggest, ‘A figure of one hundred and ninety dollars per week would be agreeable to our client.’
‘Shit,’ was all Steve could utter.
He immediately wondered how this woman had his address. The next day he rang his sister. He discovered she had loose lips. They had met by chance in a supermarket. His sister proudly boasting of Steve’s success in Sydney. She thought Steve would be pleased to make contact with his daughter.
‘She just said it’d be nice for her daughter to know who her father was,’ his sister offered in excuse.
He handed the letter to Beth. She started to read it, and looked at the look on Steve’s face. She returned her attention to the letter. Then back to Steve. She could see the shock on his face. He could see it on hers. Their happy home had been violated. They both knew in that instant that their future was unsure. Steve had thought his past had been buried. Hoped, may have been a better description. All he could do was face his past the best way he could. After a night of worry, he made his first priority the next morning to make an appointment with a solicitor.
Two days later he sat, reading a three year old copy of Woman’s Day in the waiting room of Charles Stewart’s legal practice. He was fifteen minutes early. Reading an article in the old magazine about a now dead princess was his only distraction from his worry. Charles was running twenty minutes late, so Steve had time to read on further about Hazel Hawke. He would have given his shirt for a TIME magazine at that moment. At last, ‘Mr Sharp, please come through,’ was announced by the receptionist. He had been saved from having to read the letters in the Dear Dorothy column.
He sat down at Charles Stewart’s desk, and after introductions and a brief chat about the weather, Steve handed Charles his letter from the Perth solicitors. Charles read it carefully, seeming to take four times as long to read it as it took Steve. After what looked to Steve like a long thoughtful look on Charles’ face, he could not sit quiet any longer.
‘What should I do?’ Steve asked.
‘Well Steve, it seems we’ll have to come to an arrangement with your daughter’s mother. Unless you wish this matter to go to the court for a decision. You do have a legal obligation I’m afraid.’
‘What if I don’t agree to pay anything? Just ignore it,’ Steve asked hesitantly.
‘Well, if you decided to do that, the application would be lodged in your absence, and a decision would be made. If her application was successful, an amount would be adjudged, and it could legally be garnished from your salary by the Australian Tax Office,’ Charles answered in a matter of fact manner. He continued, ‘My advice Steve would be to negotiate an agreement with her and avoid going to court. Once you have an agreement it’ll then merely go to the court to be stamped.’
‘Should I write to her myself?’ Steve asked.
‘You could. But if you prefer I can assist you by negotiating via her solicitor. It’ll save you direct negotiation. Have you seen your daughter at all in recent years Steve?’
‘No, I haven’t seen her since she was two or three.’
‘Would you like to? I could raise the issue of access if you wish.’
‘It’s been so long Charles. I’m not sure if it’s worth the effort. I’m not sure my daughter would want to see me.’ Steve thought for a m
oment and then spoke again.
‘Yes, apply for access. If I have an obligation, then I’m entitled to have some rights as a father. And, I’d like you to handle the negotiation. I don’t think I could do it directly.’
‘I’ll answer her solicitor for you and let you know what the next step will be. Ok Steve?’
‘Ok Charles. I’ll leave it to you.’
‘Any other issues or questions Steve?’
‘How much do you think I’ll have to pay in child support?’
‘Well Steve, realistically I’d guess at somewhere around one hundred dollars per week. Depending on her attitude. But I couldn’t be sure as you would realise. It’s a negotiation.’
‘Ok Charles, we’ll just have to wait and see huh?’
‘Yes Steve.’
Steve stood and shook Charles’ hand. He thanked him for his time and left. As he walked from the office to his car, he started to contemplate the changes that this could cause. He couldn’t think of any positives. He didn’t want his past contaminating his present and future. Sitting in his car, he thought back to his life in Perth. He realised he looked back on it in disgust. As if it wasn’t himself. That was a Steven he didn’t associate himself with now. He’d buried that part of his life. He had. He had buried it with study, buried it with hard work, buried it with will. Any reincarnation of that Steven could only be damaging and threatening to what Steven was now. It was to be a battle. Not between himself and his daughter’s mother, but between the two existences of Steven Sharp. The very thought sent a cold shiver down his spine until it became a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Arriving at work, he tried to let his work cleanse his thoughts. Rid him of the sick feeling in his gut. It was a slow day at work. No rush. No panic. Nothing to take his mind away to another plane. Nothing to distract him. The day ground away slowly. He was grateful that the ringing of his telephone took him from his painful staring out of his window.
‘Hello, Steve Sharp.’
‘The Perth Old Boys are planning another meeting on Friday. Will you be completing the quorum again?’ came the smiling deep voice of Tony Pilletto.
‘Oh hi Tony. I wouldn’t want to let the numbers drop below a quorum. There’d be no hope of passing any resolutions. So how are you Tony?’
‘Same as always Steve. One foot after the other. You know. But I can’t complain I suppose. I managed to get a new contract yesterday. That should keep my bank manager happy.’
‘Good news Tony. A couple more wouldn’t go astray though I suppose.’
‘A couple more like this one would be absolute heaven Steve. I can only keep plugging away. You never know what’s around the corner.’
‘I like your optimism Tony. I can only hope it’s infectious.’
‘Problem?’
‘Not really,’ Steve said, not wanting to dump his problem. ‘Just a small surprise. Nothing dramatic. So where is the meeting of the Old Boys?’ Steve asked trying to change the subject quickly.
‘Same place, same time. Friday about six at the Drover’s Dog. I’ve spoken to David, and he’s moving down from the coast. He’s coming down Thursday to look for somewhere to live. Says he’s going to find a unit in Sydney. Don’t blame him. Better to get away from there. Must be full of ghosts.’
‘Yes, good idea I suppose. Well, I look forward to Friday Tony.’
‘Ok Steve, see you then.’
The rest of Steve’s day dragged to its conclusion. When he arrived home, the kids were just as excited to see him as always, but his partner had a worried look. It was obvious to Steve that she’d had just as worrisome day. He told her about his meeting with Charles Stewart. She agreed with his plan to let Charles handle it. Almost apologetically, he told her about his plan for Friday evening.
‘Oh don’t be so silly Steve. You need some friends like those two. You need men to talk to. It’s normal. I get my woman’s bitching out with my friends over morning coffee. Have a great time. Enjoy yourself. Just catch a taxi if you have a few too many, ok?’ she told him with sincerity. Steve was relived. He felt he needed it too.
After the kids had gone to bed, the dishes done, and they’d both finished a relaxing cup of coffee, the TV quietly droning, Steve looked at her directly and intensely. It was some moments before he spoke.
‘Take off your clothes,’ he almost ordered, but not quite.
She knew he wanted to remove himself from the reality of the last couple of days. To escape in sex and fantasy. It was not only his escape. It was her escape too. They’d often said that sex was their only total escape. An abandonment of reality, if only for a short time. Standing in front of him, she moved her hips slowly, provocatively. For the man she loved. It delighted her and aroused her knowing that she was her man’s fantasy. What more proof of faithfulness could there be than to know you’re the fantasy of your partner and lover? Slowly unbuttoning her blouse she could see his interest being aroused.
‘Don’t move my love, just watch me. Enjoy me,’ she said, enjoying her role as an object of desire. For a woman whose days were occupied being a mother and housewife, cook, cleaner and grocery shopper her moments of abandonment were a pleasure she delighted in. She could be her man’s whore. She liked to talk Steve to excitement. To bring him slowly to a gentle simmer.
‘I’m your whore my love, yours and only yours,’ she whispered as she lowered her skirt to the floor. She slipped her hand into her panties, filling herself with two fingers. Her tongue wetting her lips, symbolising the wet lips of her vagina. She moved her wet fingers to her mouth, tasting her arousal. She lent forward offering her fingers to Steve’s mouth. She waited until he had licked her fingers of her offering. Standing back again, she unclipped her bra and dropped it to the floor. Holding her small breasts in her hands and pinching her nipples with her fingers she teased Steve. ‘Am I not delighting you my love? I can’t see your cock yet. I want to see it throbbing through your trousers my love. It’s not allowed out until I can see it pleading to be released.’
Steve was forgetting his worries. He was mesmerised. Teasing each other was something they both enjoyed, teasing, or being teased. The strength of their relationship and trust for each other allowed them both to explore the limits of their own fantasies. They had no boundaries, no taboos. Their trust in each other allowed them the freedom to explore their imagination. To arouse each other to total abandonment was to them, only a simple expression of their love. An extension of passion. An addendum to pleasure. A part of their life. A shared appetite. The complete surrender of one’s body and mind to your lover.
Removing her panties, she stood naked in front of Steve. The inside of her upper thighs glistening with her excitement. He was still seated on the sofa. Obeying his whore. He had not said a word. Admiring the body of the woman before him. His eyes, the only communication he was allowed to offer to her. She continued to talk to Steven as she ran her hands over his swollen groin, still trapped in its denim enclosure. She could feel his cock bursting to be released.
‘What should I do for my master?’ she asked. ‘Shall I cover myself in honey and offer myself to you? Should I stand at the window and tease the neighbours with my naked body? What shall I do for you, oh master of mine?’
Steve’s mouth obeyed and did not utter a word. Only his eyes said yes. Yes, to anything she wanted to do. Her hand rubbing his trapped groin pleased him. Her words excited him to shiver in delight. She could feel his body reacting to her vocal imaginings. Her excitement grew stronger. She held her breath as she was filled with her first orgasm, catching the result of her pleasure in her palm and then covering Steve’s face with it. Kneeling now, she gently bit the shaft of his cock through the harsh prison of denim. Biting just hard enough to make his back arch in reaction to the small amount of delightful pain. She bit again, just a little harder. His back arched again. The total control she possessed, and Steve’s obedience engulfed her again with an orgasm. Steve’s hand moved to stroke her hair.
‘St
op that!’ she almost shrieked, but in a whisper. ‘My delight is in pleasing you. Let me control your pleasure. Don’t do anything my love. Other than enjoy my slavery.’
Steve returned to his obedience. Both now fully transported to their private world of total abandonment. The place where they were removed completely from the real world. Their ultimate escape. Slowly unzipping the brass fly of his denim jeans, she freed Steve’s cock from its prison. Holding it firmly in her hand and gazing at her achievement. Gently and rhythmically she stoked him. Her face so close, he could feel her breath on his cock. Steve was lost in pleasure.
‘Don’t hold back my love,’ she whispered. ‘Show me how much I please you. Show me my love my master.’
A small groan from Steven was her cue to squeeze her hand tighter, and to soon expect his obedience.
‘Come for me now master. Now!’ she ordered.
He let out a muffled groan as his body obeyed. The first release of his arrival lining her cheek and neck. The second, third and fourth running down her clenched fist. She lent forward and took him in her mouth to claim her reward fully.
In the quiet minutes that followed, she stayed knelt on the floor, holding her man in her hand as he slowly retreated. Letting him enjoy the afterglow of his obedience. He was still silent. Still obedient.
‘I love you Steven,’ she huskily whispered. ‘You’re my life. When the world threatens us, we can come here. To our private world. No one can touch us here. We’ll always have our escape to total abandonment.’
As the minutes passed, she could feel their minds returning to reality. She didn’t want to go back there. Not yet. She didn’t want her Steven to return either.
‘Stand up Steven! Stand up now!’ she ordered.
