Meanwhile, back in the bush the police investigating Bindi’s murder had been as resourceful as Violet and discovered the probable destination of their major suspects. However, instead of proudly announcing their discoveries to the press and setting out in pursuit, a chance remark by Constable Green had set them thinking. They’d been discussing the previous night’s episode of Home and Away in which a woman being propositioned by a deranged surfer, told him he was ugly and she was going to call the cops. Predictably, when she took out her mobile phone and pressed triple zero she was strangled and dumped in the bay.
‘How could she be so stupid?’ Green had asked. ‘If she had kept him quiet by agreeing with him, he’d have let her walk away and then she could have called the cops.’
Everyone agreed, and that was when Senior Sergeant Smart decided to pretend they knew nothing. ‘Let the killers think they’ve got away with it,’ he suggested, ‘then they’ll be less worried about covering their tracks.’
Newspaper, Radio and TV News bulletins had therefore to be content with reporting that the suspicious drowning of a young council employee had the police totally baffled with no credible suspect.
The summer holiday season was underway on the coast, bringing with it the usual swag of problems for the City police from backpackers, wealthy foreign tourists and more southerners than usual. A murder in some hick town in the back of beyond was not a priority, especially as a cyclone and severe flooding were predicted within the next fortnight. As they were short staffed, an officer should be sent with all the information, and office space and equipment would be provided as necessary.
A coin was flipped and Constable Green was sent, arriving in the City the same afternoon as a triple murder behind the Aquatic Centre, and a media furore over the shooting deaths of two innocent teenagers by a nervous police officer. Green was allocated the corner of a larger office and granted access to their database, then left to pore over maps and plan where to go and what to do the following day.
That evening, rather than mope alone in the motel, Constable Green swapped his uniform for jeans and an expensive T-shirt his wife had bought as a going away present, then strutted along the Esplanade. A full moon lit up the ocean. It was hot, windless and sticky. Streets throbbed with music, youth, alcohol and other drugs. Like all men who escape the shackles of marriage, no matter how briefly, inhibitions slipped away and he returned to the carefree state of premarital youth, unable to remember the last time he’d walked alone along streets where no one knew him.
Anonymity excited and offered thrilling possibilities to a twenty-nine year old single man. Boldly, he checked out the talent.
Being a normal country boy, the constable was overweight, flabby, unfit, and deluded by the certainty that simply because he was a white male he was irresistible, which is why he felt no surprise when an extraordinarily attractive young woman with a charming accent responded to his banal chat-up line and suggested they go to a nearby nightclub. It was crowded, dark and smoky.
The music was loud, the drinks expensive, and he danced like a toad. That didn’t prevent his sexy new girlfriend from inviting him back to her luxurious nearby apartment for some fun.
Ten minutes after entering he was back on the street in nothing but his jeans, nursing a bruised jaw, sore shoulders and a black eye, having been stripped of his wallet, money belt, expensive Tshirt and shoes. By the time he’d found a police officer to assist him, his assailants had disappeared.
The following morning, unable to produce any identification, and under suspicion of being an accomplice to the burglary of the luxurious apartment he’d been taken to, he was returned to the bush.
The same evening, sprawled on the lawn in the moonlight, Jarek and Sebastian gazed at the moon and stars, content just to be with each other.
‘There's no TV in your house.’
‘No.’
‘Mobile phone?’
‘Nope. Only landline. You?’
‘No. I borrowed a simple mobile for the camps, but normally there’s no one I want to phone and I’d hate to be available twenty-four seven.’
‘I’ve a computer, satellite dish and internet.’
‘I noticed. So you’re aware of all the news.’
‘Not usually. You?’
‘Too depressing. Porn?
‘Occasionally—but very soft.’
Jarek grinned. ‘Me too.’
‘You said Zeno’s the only man you’ve been sexual with?’
‘I did.’
‘Did you fuck?’
‘No. We were both too shy and nervous. We only touched, kissed, stroked and jerked off. That was adventurous enough for both of us I think. At least Zeno said he wasn’t interested in anything else. It probably sounds banal to you, but it was heaven after…’ Jarek paused, wondering how much he should reveal of his unadventurous past.
‘After?’
‘After Bindi. At first we were only flatmates—sharing rent, but when her boyfriend dumped her she started making subtle insinuations about my manhood. I was very confused, not to say concerned, about my sexual identity—masturbator not being the alternative descriptor to either heterosexual or homosexual, although I can’t see why it isn't. Anyway, to quell the rumours I screwed her, and ended up being screwed.’
‘Did you like it?’
‘Not after the first time. Once curiosity was satisfied it was a bore. She didn’t care about me. All she wanted was long slow fucking so she could scream and moan in constant orgasms that I reckon were often as faked as mine.’
‘How many women have you had?’
‘She’s the only one.’
Condoms?’
‘Always.’
‘So you’re healthy?’
‘Very. I had a check before the camps to make certain I wasn’t harbouring any nasties I might accidentally pass on to the kids. How about you? I suppose you’ve screwed hundreds?’
‘No women, so you’re ahead of me there. About twenty males. Started when I was fourteen. It was my mother’s idea. Don’t ask,’ he grunted to forestall Jarek’s interruption, ‘I’ll tell you everything one day. Then it all stopped suddenly when I realised I loved my school friend. I’ve been tested for every known disease and declared impossibly healthy. Reginald, the cleanest and healthiest young man on the planet, is the only person I’ve had intimate sexual contact with since I was sixteen. So we are both pure and clean.’ His smile was tinged with nervous sadness.
‘How do you fill in your time?’
‘I went to an expensive and exclusive private school for boys. Rex, my father, was a teacher there. When the economy crashed, so many parents withdrew their sons that the place was no longer viable and was put up for sale. The government didn’t want it, and neither did any religion as they all had more schools than they could justify already. My stepmother is a financial wonder and in eight years had increased my already large accidental inheritance tenfold, so Rex suggested I buy the school, set up a foundation to finance it, appoint him principal, and then we could choose the students that suited our curriculum.’
‘Which is?’
‘In some ways similar to what you were doing with the boys over the last six weeks, that’s why I’ve been wondering if you’d like to teach again. We need a good outdoor education specialist, and you could use this place for camps. It’s huge and wild and dangerous. You’ve had some experience in the wild, haven’t you?’
Jarek told Sebastian about his weekends in the National Park.
‘Then you’re ideal for the job! Please say you’ll consider it?’
‘Jarek laughed. ‘You’re not supposed to sound desperate. It’s an attractive offer, but I don’t fancy teaching kids in uniforms with me in a track suit.’
Oh! There are no uniforms, everyone wears whatever they want—teachers too. The school grounds are totally private. The whole place is surrounded by hedges concealing two-metre-high cyclone netting fences. Most kids swim starkers. They’d be pleased if a teacher joined them. You can wear as much or as little as you want for all sports, and in the classroom too if you want.’
Jarek smiled his disbelief. ‘How many kids?’
‘Several seniors left at the end of the year. Next term there’ll be about thirty, I think.’
‘What levels?’
‘We don’t bother with levels; they make kids think learning is a series of packages instead of a seamless, continuous process. Every student works at his own pace—that’s simple with computers.
In every subject area there’s a full range of levels from beginner to HSC. Rex has arranged for university and other specialists to be available via video link for any advanced students who need extra tuition or explanation. The tutors get a good hourly rate so there’s competition for the work.’
‘What’s the pass rate in external exams?’
‘Believe it or not, a hundred percent. Mind you, we only accept super intelligent students who are motivated to succeed scholastically as well as physically, because if they don’t put in maximum effort they return to the state school system—and after being at our school that would seem like hell.’
‘So you don’t have a top student. No Dux and all that malarkey.’
‘Exactly.’
‘How about sports, are they competitive?’
‘Not in the usual sense. Starting a ‘ladder’ or keeping the scores of other kids is forbidden. Each pupil competes against himself by trying to improve against previous performances. Only ad hoc team games are played, and the scores are not recorded. Organised team games mean competition for places, and then you have to compete against another team and it becomes a source of pointless warlike conflict. We have athletics and tennis, archery and self-defence—all those individual sports, but the results aren’t recorded. The purpose of sport in our opinion, is the pleasure of learning skills and the enjoyment of honing the body into an instrument as fine as the brain. Sport, like purely intellectual pursuits, should not be a tool for asserting dominance or superiority.’
‘Are the kids all local?’
‘Only a few. We draw from the whole country. That’s why it’s residential.’
Jarek sighed. ‘Sounds like heaven. What about afterwards? Can they find jobs?’
‘They all go on to tertiary education, and the ones who’ve completed their degrees have all been snatched up.’
‘I’d love to teach in a place like that, but will your father want me?’
‘When he knows I’m in love with you and will pull the financial plug on the place if he doesn’t, he’ll come into line. No, seriously, he’s as keen to have someone like you as I am. He’ll love you, and so will Fee, my stepmother.’ Sebastian paused and scrutinised Jarek’s face. ‘What is it? What have I said? You look unsure?”
‘You said you’re in love with me.’
‘Yes! I am! I believe in love at first sight, don’t you?’
‘Not until yesterday when you shook my hand and held it for a second longer than normal. Now I can’t imagine why I was so happy being alone every weekend in the forest.’
‘It amazes me that you did that for two years.’
‘Me too.’
‘No tools? Not even a knife?’
Jarek frowned, embarrassed, which was odd as he hadn’t been shy to show Leon where he kept his knife, nor to produce it. Then he realised why. He hadn’t been in love with Leon and didn’t mind if the kid was shocked. Sebastian, though, was too precious to lose. What if he thought it dirty, kinky or obscene? Fortunately for his future, an important truth about love and relationships dawned on him. Both partners must feel free to be themselves, otherwise it won’t work. If he was always going to worry about offending Sebastian then he’d be better off alone. With a shy grin and a sigh he described his defence of bullied kids at school with a weapon he’d secreted up his backside.
Sebastian laughed in delight. ‘That I’d love to see!’
‘Then watch carefully.’ Jarek squatted, reached round, and within seconds a vicious-looking dagger was pressed against his lover’s ribs.
Sebastian didn’t move a muscle. ‘I’m impressed,’ he said, obviously meaning it. ‘Have you been wearing it all day?’
‘I never go to new places without it.’
‘Is this the one you used to…?’
‘The same.’
‘Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?’
‘For the first few days it did, but now I forget it’s there. At first if I lifted anything heavy or farted I risked losing it, but you soon learn to control that. It’s a bit like wearing contact lenses I suppose.’
‘It looks clean and doesn’t stink. Why not?’
‘I polish the silver regularly and coat it with hand cream before inserting. That seems to prevent anything except diarrhoea from sticking.’
Sebastian admired the workmanship. ‘The handle looks a bit thin, but apart from that I can’t fault it.’
‘Believe me it seemed quite large enough when I first shoved it up!’
Sebastian sat back on his heels in admiration.
‘It’s wonderful,’ he said with a slow smile. ‘I wonder if you’d be averse to me putting my dagger in there from time to time? It’s a trifle larger, but I’m sure it wouldn’t cause you the slightest discomfort. It might even give a little pleasure, and would certainly give me a lot.’
Jarek pretended to think about it. ‘Would I have to remove my dagger first?’
‘It would seem prudent.’
‘I guess you’re right. Then maybe I can return the compliment?’
‘I’m counting on it. Meanwhile let’s go somewhere more comfortable where there’s no danger of being attacked by ants. Which raises the questions, where did you sleep in the forest, wasn't it cold, and how did you cope with ants and other vermin?’
If it was cold I used sheltered places with more or less flat stone floors on which I’d build a fire to cook my meal, then make a low wall of ash to enclose me. Lying on the warmed stone after a full day looking for food, hiking, climbing, living, meant that sleep came quickly. Creepy crawlies seldom breached the ash barrier.’
‘Fires? In a National Park?’
‘The resident Ranger and his wife are good friends, I always told them what direction I was heading. They trusted me.’
‘You’re a wonder. Are you sure you wouldn’t sooner hive off into the forest to sleep tonight?’
Jarek’s laugh was tinged with the sadness of self-awareness. ‘I’m beginning to realise I only did it because I was dissatisfied with my life. There were so many things missing—happiness, contentment, peace of mind, self respect—not to mention love. I blamed myself for my melancholy and imagined the cure lay in becoming a fully natural creature. Yes, I know, a ridiculous notion.
Perhaps I have a masochistic steak and was punishing myself for not being like everyone else.’ He stopped and looked at Sebastian for a few seconds as if wondering whether to continue. Then with a diffident smile he admitted that now, after meeting Sebastian, the thought of a cold night in the bush didn’t appeal at all. ‘Sharing a clean bed with a sexy man who says he loves me is exactly what I was looking for,’ he admitted shyly.
A feeling of lightness—of floating—enveloped Sebastian. Jarek’s innocence, straightforward honesty and unpretentiousness had magically lifted his self-imposed burden of guilt and sorrow.
With a sudden short laugh of delight he led the way to the bedroom.
Irma and Amanda had reached the road before realising Violet wasn’t with them. A sense of duty forced Irma back to see what had happened. The sound of young men laughing and splashing in the pool prevented her from going too close.
‘The silly cow’s stuck,’ she informed Amanda.’ She’s hidden behind the hedge, but she’ll have to wait till dark to leave by the front.
‘Then let’s go home. We can come back later to pick her up.’
Relieved at not having to slow down to accommodate Violet, they jogged back to the car. Later, settled in Amanda’s lounge with a glass of vodka they giggled like schoolgirls.
‘Poor old Violet.’
‘Yeah. She’s too old for this game. What about you, Irma, do you get much sex?’
Irma couldn’t conceal her nervousness. She’d been half expecting this and had her response ready. ‘You mean with women? No, I’m not interested in that.’
‘Neither am I! I mean with men.’
‘Oh! I thought you were a lesbian? You met us at that bar and…’
‘No way! Other women’s bodies leave me cold. I can’t stand those prissy, eager beaver lizzies.
They’re too bloody serious; demanding marriage rights, having babies and living in domesticated bliss. I only go there to frighten them. They hate it if straights see me because they’re trying to prove they’re normal; just like everyone else. Silly dykes. Can’t they see no one’s normal?
Everyone’s fucked up.’
‘Yes...but lesbians keep demanding equality with men, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Fuck no! I don’t want equality, I want superiority! Men have had the upper hand too long. It’s our time now! I want to shove men’s masculinity up their bums, let them see they’re no use except as a source of cash and pleasure for women.’
‘So that’s the reason for your campaigns! You’re emasculating them.’
‘You’re not stupid, Irma. And when they feel guilty enough, guess what? They come crawling to be punished. If you haven’t enjoyed that, you haven’t lived.’
‘So it’s OK to have sex with men?’
‘Only if you’re the dominant partner and they’re your slaves. Want to try it?’
‘How?’
‘There’s a club in the city, Momma Dommina. It’s for women like us and pathetic guys begging to be thrashed. It’s too early to go yet, but if you’re up to it I’ll give a couple of guys a call. It’ll keep us occupied till it’s time to go and get Violet.’
Irma was terrified; still a virgin at twenty-six because she’d refused to allow herself to be dominated by any man. However Amanda’s challenge was clear and she wanted to prove her worth, so she nodded with what she hoped looked like enthusiasm. The two men lived several kilometres away across town, so the women had plenty of time to prepare before they arrived. Irma nervously put on a pair of Amanda’s crotchless leather shorts, a boob-exposing harness, leather cap and high heels, and listened carefully to her hostess’s instructions in the art of male abasement. Then she practised with a whip while Amanda prepared fake handcuffs, a couple of dildos, a mask and other bits and pieces that might prove amusing. For herself, she wore nothing but the mask, heavy boots and nipple rings. Irma was almost paralysed with apprehension by the time the men arrived.
They were in their thirties. One had a paunch, the other needed a good feed. Neither were fit or looked very healthy. Both were pale and the skinny one smelled unwashed. However, with the curtains drawn and a single red bulb in the standard lamp they looked tolerable and were clearly delighted to have two attractive and athletic younger women to punish them.
Cowering under physical and verbal abuse, they knelt and begged forgiveness, cringing in delight at blows rained on heads and bodies as they stripped and crawled round the room whimpering like dogs as whips stung their sensitive bits. Squirming between their tormenters’
thighs, the slaves’ tongues worked overtime until their mistresses tossed them condoms and kicked them onto their backs. Astride and squealing in ecstasy, the two women impaled themselves and rode their victims to orgasm.
The excitement and novelty of her first fuck made Irma forget the time. It was so much better than even her largest electric vibrating dildo that she also forgot to collect Violet. Amanda had never intended to remember.
Violet, exhausted beyond anything she could ever have imagined, had literally staggered the last hundred metres to Amanda’s house, let herself in during the final noisy episode, and sank, all reserves depleted, to the floor in a corner, too horrified to look, too curious to look away.
Lusts satiated, Irma and Amanda climbed off the men and told them to fuck off. They laughed, collected their clothes, said to call them any time, dressed and left, unaware of Violet huddled in the corner.
As the door closed, Violet let out a long wail of pent up misery, horror and despair. Amanda and Irma froze in shock. Amanda turned on the overhead light, saw Violet keening and tearing at her hair, and slapped her viciously across the cheek. She stopped and began to sob. Irma sat beside her and apologised for not coming to pick her up, but Violet wasn’t listening. Amanda brought a tumbler full of what looked like water and told Violet to drink it. Her thirst being so acute, Violet downed the vodka in one go, then leaped to her feet as if her throat and chest were aflame. Eyes popped. She grasped her throat. Whispered, ‘You’ve poisoned me,’ and collapsed.
Amanda dragged on a pair of jeans, shoved a bottle of vodka into her pocket and drove them back to their motel where she guzzled while Irma put a partially comatose Violet to bed.
Appetites aroused by the recent experience, Irma was impatient to go to the club, but Amanda, who was a little short of cash, had lost interest
‘Come on, Amanda,’ Irma pleaded. ‘It’s far too early to go to sleep. Anyway, I’ll never sleep!
This afternoon was fantastic. Take me to Momma whatsername’s! My shout.’
Amanda never turned down a free ticket to anything, and Irma seemed to be loaded so they returned to her house, showered, put on leather gear and heavy makeup, and spent the rest of the night in an orgy of whips, moans, fucking and torturing every pathetic male who’d let them—and there were a surprising number.
After three hours, Violet awoke with a dreadful headache. A wave of nausea sent her scurrying to the toilet where she dry heaved till her throat was aflame. After a drink of chlorinated tap water that increased her nausea she sat on the bed and attempted to think. The pain and semi-paralysis due to overworked muscles after such a long walk, convinced her she had been poisoned and was about to die. The thought calmed her. At that moment death seemed preferable to her present state.
However, if she was going to die she’d bloody well drag the others down with her.
Taking pen and paper from her bag, with a supreme effort she managed to write in her usual neat script an apology to Stephen for her failure as a wife and lover. She made no excuses, knowing in her heart there were none. Her confession of regret for assisting Irma to drown Bindi in the bath, also lightened her burden of guilt. After folding the letter and placing it on the table, she offered a prayer to her god, begging for mercy when he sat in posthumous judgement. After popping all her remaining valium tablets from their foil, she crushed them to a powder in a tumbler, topped it up with vodka, gave it a stir, tossed the lot down and sagged back onto the bed.
As her eyes closed a guilty smile twitched her lips. She knew she couldn’t kill herself with valium—she’d just fall asleep and wake hours later feeling better. It was a token gesture; a way of showing god she understood she’d been a bad girl and had repented. In the morning she’d tear up her silly confession, renounce revenge, and try to make it up with Stephen—she should be able to get him away from the clutches of that scrawny old woman she’d seen him with. At this point Violet’s thinking stalled. Consciousness began to slip away. She retched, this time successfully, spewing foul-smelling goo. Mentally aware but physically unable to react, Violet drowned in her own vomit.
Jarek and Sebastian’s sexual delights differed from Irma and Amanda’s in that theirs excluded pain and dominance, concentrating instead on gentle caressing while learning how to please their lover; desiring only that the other should experience the greatest enjoyment and satisfaction possible. Neither derived pleasure from administering or receiving pain—the emotionally damaging and spurious solution to impotence advocated by foolish men who imagine that sex without affection is all they need for happiness.
Being physically and mentally fit, delighting in their own wellbeing, contented with their abilities and secure in their masculinity, they had no need to trample on others to feel superior. They didn't want to feel superior. The wanted to share their lives with an equal; for that is sanity.
A few kilometres away, Stephen and Chloe’s lovemaking was very similar, and so was that of Zeno and Cador. Each dedicated to the delight of their lover; each having their love returned with interest.