Date: Fri, 12 Jul 2013 22:23:01 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - chapter 5

Thank you for your encouraging feedback and photos. Love them. I am
endeavouring to respond to all comments, questions and positive
suggestions.

I remind you that this is a work of pure fiction - just an expression of a
fantasy. The resemblance of my characters by action, name, location or
description to any real person is purely coincidental - if it seems to be
you, or somebody you know, I apologise.

If relationships between boys and men is not your scene, or if you're under
age, or if it is not legal for you to be reading this, then please leave,
now, before somebody finds out! Otherwise, enjoy!

What you might expect, does not happen quickly - but it does happen. Please
be patient. Enjoy the plot, the setting and the characters as they develop.

Rob


Chapter 5

After what seems a blur of days and activities, it's Friday.

The first few days of school have gone smoothly. The preparations have been
thorough. The children have been responsive and the groupings have worked
out ideally. Five year old little Eric was the only new enrolment and he
has been helped to settle in by his older brother, David, as well as by
Jane and the other children. Susanna will be six next month and she was not
a new enrolee.

In the back of my mind I know that today is Karl and Kurt's twelfth
birthday. However, it is Jane who brings the birthday routine to my
attention. It is usual, she tells me, to have a birthday lunch, for which
she has made a cake, and Di has sent along some other 'party food'. I leave
everything to her. All the goodies are 'hidden' in the store room and my
task for the morning will be to keep everyone out of there! It sounds a bit
like one of those `Mission Impossible' challenges.

When they arrive, I wish the boys a "Happy Birthday" and congratulate them
on turning twelve. A part of the routine is that everyone is to give the
birthday person, or in this case persons, a pat on the back for each year
of their age. They all enjoy doing that. When I see the mischievous looks
on their faces as they await their opportunity I have to remind Jake and
Will that they are supposed to be `birthday bumps' and not `birthday
bashes', and not to be too heavy-handed. I, too, take my turn, counting
slow, circular rubs to their firm young back muscles, instead of bumps, and
I cannot deny that I enjoy the more intimate physical contact with each of
them. Kurt seems especially responsive, relaxing noticeably into my rubbing
hand.

The morning progresses quickly and I send the boys and little ones out to
play while Jane and some helpers set up a central table. Jane has,
remarkably, made a cake in two apparent halves - half chocolate and half
orange, knowing what each boy likes. The cake has six candles on each side
and one right in the middle. The food that surrounds the cake consists of
home-made cookies, mint slices, muesli slices, a platter of sliced fruits
and some juice.

Jane also produces two large birthday cards for everybody to sign. Her
ornate lettering on the outside reads, `Happy Twelfth Birthday Karl' and
`Happy Twelfth Birthday Kurt'. On the inside of each she has inscribed,
`from all your friends at school'. However, my emotions start to well up
within me when I realise that on the outside of his card, below his name,
is a large pencil drawing of Karl and, under his, one of Kurt. Rather than
just two of the same, Will has captured slightly different expressions, and
he has not missed Karl's upturned eyebrow! On the inside there is a small
50c-coin-sized miniature of everyone else in the school, including one of
me! The idea is that each person can sign or write something next to their
picture. What an incredible keep-sake!

Jane, her helpers and I write on each boy's card. The helpers go out to
play and one at a time each of the other children comes in to `autograph'
the cards and is then sent out to fetch the next person, until all have
signed. Will is the last one to come in. I take the opportunity of telling
both Jane and Will how proud I am of them, and how I admire their
efforts. I shake Jane's hand and give her a little peck on the
cheek. Watching her blush is a delight. I put one arm around Will's
shoulder and give him a firm squeeze. Jane laughs as Will also blushes,
perhaps because it was done in front of her.

Jane does her high-volume, PA system announcement that everyone should come
inside. The twins take in the scene and Karl positions himself on one side
of the table, Kurt on the other. Jane adjusts the cake so that the
chocolate and orange halves are closest to the correct twin. She produces
some long matches and sets the candles burning. We all sing "Happy
Birthday" although there is some confusion as to whose name comes
first. The tangle of words is very funny. Everybody laughs. Then after the
boys blow out the candles and cut pieces from their own half to share
around, it's all in! Recalling some of my little sister's birthday parties,
I am expecting this to be like pigs at the trough, but am delighted that
Jane and Will ensure that the little ones get to choose first, then in
order of age. Remarkable!

Jane has suggested a number of the children's favourite games, to be played
in the more spacious art/craft room .

`Hoppo Bumpo' requires two children of approximately equal size to hop and
bump into each other to force the opponent to put their other foot on the
ground. Something the older boys really get into displaying their Alpha
male strength.

`Treasure Hunt' requires children to hunt for concealed bags of
goodies. When one is discovered, that child must sit down (and may start
feasting on the contents) until each child has found one. As the last ones
remain to be found, children who know their whereabouts chant "warm,
warmer, hot" as they approach one, and "cool, cooler, cold" as they move
away from one.

`Postman' is a favourite that requires a certain amount of chasing and
tagging (of the `postman' by the `dog') around everyone, seated in a
circle. The senior boys have their own version, where the dog grabs
(`bites') the postman on the backside. You can imagine the mirth and
uproar!

At the end of the afternoon, everyone helps to clean up, and school is
dismissed.

I am left alone, to do some planning for Week 2.

It's an oppressively hot afternoon, and I decide to take my first dip in
the weir. I can neither see nor hear anybody around so I strip off my
shoes, socks, shirt and cargo shorts. I leave my microfiber black boxer
briefs on. From a distance they look like swimming trunks anyway, just in
case anybody should be around - which they're not! I close the school door
and walk the short distance to the weir.

I walk past the log where I first saw the boys' undies and shorts and
reflect on the whole afternoon frolic last Sunday. I wade into the deep
side of the weir and absorb the chill as I allow the water to rise past my
ankles, knees, thighs, crotch (shuddering) then do a shallow dive into the
middle. It is certainly invigorating but my body adjusts to the change in
temperature very quickly and I am refreshed. I surface, with just my head
protruding as I tread water, maintaining a slow silent stroke to keep an
adequate distance from the weir wall. My awareness of the droning summer
buzz is heightened - cicadas, bush flies, dragon flies, beetles and other
unidentified `country bugs'.

I decide to investigate the cascade on the other side of the weir and soon
discover the world behind the wall of water. There is an eerie silence,
apart from the noise of the cascading water as it hits the stream
below. The light is subdued and tinged brown as the sunlight is diffused
through the slightly muddy water. The weir itself is of old timber
construction and the logs are mossy, due to the combination of moisture and
diffused light. I sit on a horizontal beam at the base of the weir, my legs
dangling into the water. I look from right to left and feel like a surfer
inside a tube, with water breaking above me. This is a magical, secret,
private place. I understand why it is popular with the children, especially
the boys.

I decide to do an impersonation of Will, the very first time that I saw him
- alligator style, and I submerge below the cascade and rise slowly on the
other side. The summer buzz returns, accompanied this time by the sound of
voices - Will and the twins. I submerge as much as possible and back up to
the far side of the river, keeping close enough to the cascade so as to be
unseen - I hope.

"Naked?" I hear one of the twins call, as much like a command as a
question. There is no response, just a flurry of arms, legs and
clothing. From my vantage point I take in their beauty - slim, toned
bodies; pubic hair; semi-erect cocks and gleeful shouts. It stimulates a
flow of blood and I feel myself start to swell. I submerge and retreat
behind the wall and take up my place on the horizontal beam. There is
silence, apart from the water. I fully expect to be joined by the boys, so
I focus on absorbing as much of the chill that surrounds me to try to
ensure that I don't have a full erection when they discover my presence.

The erratic surges of the water over the weir tell me that they are on the
deep side and frolicking about. Then the flow becomes regular and uniform
again. Shortly afterwards, my solitude is invaded. Momentarily, shrieking
young males chasing each other into then out of the hidden chamber,
grabbing at each other, just as I saw them previously. Without warning a
head pops up quite close to me. The hair. The eyes. The stare. Without
attempting to hide his highly aroused state, Will sidles up to me, checks
out my crotch, then nonchalantly says, "Hi Tom. Lucky, eh?" as he sits
beside me, with both our legs dangling into the water. "Wanna muck around
with us today?" It is delivered with an air of hopeful expectation. It is
hard to reply, `No thanks' when I want to say, `Oh, yes'!

I suddenly feel a pair of hands on my ankles. They slide rapidly up my
legs, past my knees and continue up my thighs onto my crotch. A head
surfaces and, with water running from his hair into his eyes, one of the
twins yells, "I've gotcha Willie!" Or was that, "I've got your willie"? In
the murky brownness he obviously thinks that he's got hold of Will, sitting
alone. He very obviously senses that the clothing-covered genitals that his
is holding are very different to the ones that he was expecting.

I'll have to see whether Will can draw the expression on his face at the
moment when, opening his eyes, he realises that it is his teacher, not his
friend, whose `gear' he is scrunching. His hands spring off my privates so
fast that I muse on his risk of dislocating something. He stands bolt
upright, and erect, face flushing bright red and muttering, "Oh, shit. Mr
Grant. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry Sir." Then he unfreezes and dives out through
the cascade! Hmmm. `Nice close up! Thanks buddy,' I contemplate.

At almost the same time, the other twin pops up beside Will. It's Karl this
time. Surveying the scene, he eases out of the water, sits himself down and
sidles up close to Will and mumbles, "Hi, Mr Grant, Sir." I can tell that
he is unsure whether he should cover up, or leave his young stiffness
exposed, like Will. He looks at Will's body and then at my reassuring
smile, and decides to be brave.

"You'd better tell Kurt that everything's OK. He's just had a bad
experience." Will laughs, "You should have seen his face when he discovered
that he was grabbing Mr Grant's cock instead of mine." Karl looks
quizzically from Will to me. When I nod confirmation and laugh too, I can
see all the tension release from his face and body. He smiles sheepishly.

Hoping to put him at ease, looking deliberately at his handsome
vertically-pointing erection and then directly into his eyes, I smile,
"hey, nice gear for a twelve year old." He stares at me, probably shocked
that his school teacher would say such a thing. Then, as if his mind has
finished processing everything, his face takes on a very mischievous
smirk. I'd love to know what he's thinking.

Will parrots, "yeh, for a twelve year old", and grabs Karl between the legs
then dives out under the cascade. Again, Karl doesn't know whether or not
to be embarrassed and is left with a slightly shocked expression on his
angelic face. I just shake my head, smile into his eyes and, without any
sign of either approval or disapproval, but by way of explanation if any is
needed say, "boys will be boys!"

Then, with bravado, Karl screams out, "I'll get you for that Willie!" and
dives after him.

Some of the questions that I had last Sunday have been answered. I have
witnessed their little game in close up. And, unwittingly, had become part
of it, thanks to Kurt. I decide that it's time to go, before I succumb to
the temptation to join in and surrender my professional standing totally. I
submerge and cruise out, crocodile style, surfacing slowly to survey the
scene. Will and Karl are holding Kurt, tickling and groping him. Kurt is
twisting and screaming with laughter, trying to free himself. I stand up
and wade past the three of them, simply saying, "I'd better be off. Have
fun guys!" and I head up the river bank.

I turn to look at them one last time. Will is spooning Kurt and holding him
tight around the chest, while Kurt is kicking to avoid his brother's
grasping hands. I can just imagine the comments and questions that the
twins will put to Will when I am gone. As Will looks at me, beaming, I
return the smile and put my finger to my lips to prompt him not to say too
much. He nods, acknowledging his understanding, then refocusses on having
fun with the birthday boys.

Having left the three boys to their fun at the weir, I decide to pack up
and head home. I'm sure Will will fill me in with a little of what they
did, knowing that I have already seen them naked, erect and cavorting.

Arriving at Marty's I am met by the barking dogs which appear to have
traded their vicious, snarling challenge for more of an excited greeting.

I hardly have my things dumped onto my bed when Marty has a cold can in my
hand. I can tell that he really appreciates the companionship and that he
is comfortable with being close, displayed through the incidental physical
touching, backslapping, relaxed body language and smiling eyes. Not to
mention his predilection for minimal clothing. I am certain that he would
be right at home in a naturalist camp. Then I smile at the thought of him
starting his own - even right here. He catches my grin which I must have
allowed to escape and simply asks, "What?"

I don't lie. I just don't tell him the whole truth. "Marty, I was just
thinking how great it is to be staying here with you - even having young
William around. I thought that it might be a problem, but it isn't."

"Young William? Oh, you mean Little Willie?"

"Marty, how can I say this without being overly serious or too flippant?
I've seen the kid naked and the three of us jacked off together last Sunday
morning. I just can't bring myself to call him `Little Willie', if you know
what I mean." I raise an eyebrow and give him a grin. "He is bigger that
both of us."

"Hey, not by much, he isn't." Marty quickly replies with his trademark
smirk. "But, you're right. I suppose it's just the name we've always called
him from the time he was a little kid. It'll be hard to break an old habit
and call him anything else. But then I'm not sure that I could call him
`William' either." He pauses while he downs half a can in one gulp. "I
suppose I could drop the `Little' and just call him `Willie'. Would that be
so bad?" Then he adds, "I hope he comes down tonight. I told Mum that I'd
start actually building her new chicken coop in the morning. I could do
with an extra pair of hands." Then he adds, "...or two", giving me a look
that replaces a direct request for me to help as well.

"No worries, Marty. I'll be happy to help. I might even learn something."
It still sounds funny - the Schoolie being the one who's learning stuff,
when I'm here to do the teaching.

We chat and, over a second beer, share reflections of our day. I tell Marty
about the twins' birthday and my admiration for Will's and Jane's efforts,
throwing in some funny moments from the games. I omit any mention of the
weir. Marty details how he has prepared and marked out the site up at
Mum's, ready for the `real' work tomorrow.

A little later I hear the dogs barking. Somebody's coming. I hear a sharp
`Shut up'. In contrast, almost melodiously, it is followed a few seconds
later by an inquiring, "Hello?"

"Yeh, come in mate." Marty calls to Will, as the kid bounces into the room,
with a beaming grin. I wonder how long it takes him to get down here from
the village on foot. I'll ask him later.

"Hi Marty. Hello Mr Grant."

"Why the hell are you so happy?" Marty shoots at him. "You're normally
miserable when you drag yourself in here."

Will shrugs at Marty and then looks directly at me. I wink at him. We both
know the answer, and know that his secret -our secret - is safe.

"I dunno," Will starts. "Maybe because it's just the end of a hard week at
school. The new Schoolie's a real slave driver, you know." He says it as
though I am not in the room. Then he quickly glances my way for any sign of
offense or disapproval.

Not wanting to be outdone by a sixteen year old, I flash back, "Hey, Marty,
did I tell you that most of my little slaves are hard workers? It's only
the big smart arse one that's a bit of a handful." I wink at Will so that
Marty can't see it, while at the same time cupping my groin, scratching in
case Marty should notice. Will catches on, understanding my intentional
innuendo then winks back, restraining a full-on smirk. Marty smiles at the
light-hearted exchange of words.

Marty says, "I'll get dinner ready."

I reply, "I'll put all my things away." Will asks Marty if he needs any
help and, getting a negative response, follows me.

"Hey Tom..." he starts the conversation, "... thanks for being so cool
about Karl and Kurt."

"No worries, Will. And you know that you can trust me to keep my mouth
shut, like I trust you. By the way, we can't go on saying `house rule'
every time we want to check with each other. Let me show you something." I
show him some signing for the deaf that I picked up in university. I show
him one letter specifically. "Will, this is the letter `H'. Can you do
this? It's easy - just like pretending to have a gun but with your thumb
down, and displayed across your body." He gets it. "This `H' can just be a
quick sign between us - H for House Rule. What do you think?" He smirks,
and just gives me an `H'.

"What did the twins think about me seeing the three of you so `playful'
with each other?"

"It wasn't a problem at all. But, Kurt said he nearly shit himself when he
realised that was you and not me that he grabbed. He was afraid that you
might hit him or, even worse, tell his father. But he said that you were
super cool not to say anything except, `have fun guys'. I told them that I
didn't think you would `rat' on us. They couldn't understand why, but I
just told them that I thought you were a really cool dude and that I
thought we could trust you not to give us up. After that, Kurt couldn't
stop talking about it, going on and on about what you felt like."

"Hey. Do you reckon that you can draw that expression on Kurt's face when
he opened his eyes and saw me?"

"Yeh. I'll do it tonight. No problem. He's gonna freak when he sees
himself!"

Marty soon calls, "Dinner!" and we enjoy another one of his great meals. I
offer to wash the dishes and Will says that he will dry and put away. Marty
sits with a beer and my occasional sideways glance alerts me that he is
watching us both. I don't know what he's thinking but the smirk tells me
that there's something going on in his head, instead of just gazing in our
direction. I wonder whether he's making some connection between Will and
me, or whether he's just checking me out - again, exactly as Will alerted
me that he does!

When it's time for bed, Marty simply gets up, says, "Night!" and disappears
to his room. Will and I go to ours. Stripping down to our underwear we prop
ourselves each on his own bed - me with a book, Will with a pencil and a
drawing pad. After only fifteen minutes Will shows me his sketch,
explaining that he likes to get the outlines and basic shapes done first
and then concentrate on the expression in the eyes and mouth. He's drawn
Kurt from the chest up and has him down perfect,! Then he continues to add
the cross-hatch shading and fine detail. In less than an hour it's all
done, water background and all. This lad's a true artistic genius!

The picture of Kurt shows just the right balance of surprise and fear. Only
the four of us will ever know why. I'm sure the twins won't tell anyone who
might come across this latest portrait of Kurt what he was doing at the
time. LOL. I compliment Will on his amazing skill, get off my bed, ruffle
his hair and motion that I want to give him a hug. He stands and draws me
in for a close embrace and I savour the feel of his chunk of manhood in its
natural state as he leans his crotch against my thigh. "Sleep well, little
brother," I whisper in his ear.

"You too, bro," he replies, giving me a peck on the cheek.

Will behaves himself and my sleep is undisturbed.

Roosters and kookaburras are alarm clocks on which you can't hit the
`snooze' button! Will and I both stir and smile a sleepy `Good Morning' at
each other. Will throws back the sheet and doesn't try to hide his morning
glory as he heads to the bathroom, closing the bedroom door behind him. I
hear the bathroom door shut as well.

After five minutes he still hasn't returned. My own wood has slackened
off. I rise and cross the room and turn an ear towards the bathroom wall. I
don't hear noises that sound like peeing or taking a dump! I know what he
is doing. LOL. I don't blame him after his excitement in the weir
yesterday. Maybe his play with Karl and Kurt didn't progress beyond
`grabbing'. But then again, this lad seems ready to `get lucky' at the drop
of every dried gum leaf in a wind storm! I have no idea how often he can
jack off. Maybe one day I will find out.

I hear the call of `breakfast' from the kitchen so I pull on a pair of
briefs and head out there. Marty almost automatically checks out my
slightly plumped-up bulge, then looks away. He and I don't wait for Will
and we dig into the baked beans on toast with bacon and eggs. The coffee
tastes slightly bitter - so this is what it's like without sugar! Ugh! Will
eventually emerges from the bath room, heads back to the bedroom then
appears, wearing his pair of thin flesh-coloured shorts. Marty and I both
look at the post-ejaculation plumpness in his crotch, then at each other
and just smirk, knowingly.

After cleaning up, taking my turn in the bathroom and getting dressed, we
all head across to Mum's. Marty lets Will drive the truck, a regular
occurrence I am told - his second thrill of the morning. I ride shotgun and
Marty sits in the back with the assortment of tools. Will negotiates the
bumps and holes much better than Marty did on our previous trip home from
Mum's and he pulls up next to the cleared spot and the materials that Marty
has prepared, and we all jump out. I compliment Will on the great job of
driving, which I know he appreciates, based on his broad smile. However,
his grin changes to a grimace when he sees Anna walking towards us. I
cringe too.

"Hi Marty, Hi Little Willie," she says almost dismissively. But, in
contrast, I hear, "Good morning Mr Grant. Thank you for coming over to
help." Anna's voice is almost lyrical as she walks up to me. Looking beyond
her shoulder I can see Marty and Will nudging each other and restraining
their obvious humour.

"I'm happy to help do this for your mum," I reply, choosing my words much
more circumspectly than I had done on my last visit.

"I'll bring you across some refreshments a little later," she says. "It's
going to be hot work out here." We all thank her, although I think that
mine is delivered with a little more sincerity than what the other two
manage. She stands, just looking at me.

Marty calls, "Tom, can you come and give Willie a hand with the tools?"
What a saviour! Anna turns and walks back across to the house.

Among the tools are a post-hole digger, chain saw, axe, heavy hammer, bags
of quick-setting cement, staple gun, shovels and a funny-looking device
called a wire strainer. Marty explains the intended use of each as he lays
them out. There are also rolls of wire and a box of heavy duty staples for
attaching the wire to the posts. Marty has most of the timbers pre-cut to
length and he has marked out with spray paint the positions of the corner
posts, the intermediate posts, and two for the gate.

After tossing our shirts into the truck and donning the wide-brimmed hats
that Marty has brought along, he demonstrates how to use the post-hole
digger by doing the first hole. Will and I shovel the dirt to the
side. Marty says, "there are seven more. It will be easier on all of us if
we take turns in using the digger and shovelling."

We start to work our way around the rectangular plan. When I take my turn
on the post-hole digger, turning and pushing down at the same time, I gain
a new appreciation for both Marty's and Will's strength. It's `hard yakka',
but I'm determined to pull my weight. I don't want any jibes about `soft
Schoolies' or `weak city slickers'.

This is totally different to gym workouts! I can feel muscles that I never
knew existed around my shoulders and upper back. We do the fourth hole and
the three of us are wet and shiny with perspiration. It's a great sight
watching the guys working and seeing their toned muscles contract and
relax. It appears that we have also attracted attention over at the
house. Anna comes towards us with a tray upon which I can see a large
pitcher and some tin mugs. The minted ice water is very refreshing. I thank
Anna. Placing her hand on my back, she tells me that it is her pleasure to
do this for me.

Again Marty saves me. "Back to work, guys!"

"When you finish the other holes, I'll have morning tea for you all on the
verandah, "Anna smiles as she turns and walks away, taking the occasional
look over her shoulder at us, or just me.

Marty says, "I did warn you on Day #1, didn't I?"

Will laughs, "Now you know how I feel. Thanks heaps for being here Mr G!"

The pain of the physical work is diminished by watching the bodies of these
two handsome cousins. The other pain is sitting on the verandah, watching
us, or me. Despite the desires of my stomach and taste buds, I'm almost
dreading stopping for morning tea. However, the body needs a rest after
eight holes. We down tools, swap our hats for shirts and head for the
verandah. We are greeted by freshly-baked cookies and some home-made
pumpkin pie (I thought that that was only an American thing) with
freshly-whipped cream. And tea, which I read somewhere is more refreshing
in the heat than coffee or carbonated drinks like Cola or beer.

I note that there are five seats around the circular table and I quickly
calculate that, no matter where Marty and Will sit, there will still be two
vacant ones together. Shit! Unless I sit between them! Haha. However the
scheming mongrels are too quick and sit alongside each other. I give them
both a dirty look. They smirk in return. I sit next to Marty, hoping that
Anna will choose to sit next to Will. She doesn't. Fuck!

Anna cuts me a large slice of pie and smothers it with cream. Handing it to
me she asks, "How do you like your tea? Black with one sugar isn't it?" I
didn't think that she was that observant at breakfast last week while she
was flirting with Will. Then I remember that Mum poured my tea. They've had
their heads together. I can tell that Marty and Will are enjoying her
little game with me! I look at each of them, squint, and think, `I'm not
going to get mad with you two. But I will get even! You can be sure of it!'

Mum appears, and takes the vacant seat between Anna and Will. In contrast
to the `Ma Kettle' character that I saw last week, Mum has pulled her
mostly-grey hair back in a neat bun, and has donned a clean, colourful
apron. I stand and say politely, "Good morning Mrs O'Brien. How are you?"

"Ooh," she says, "A gentleman." And then glaring at Marty she adds dryly
and sarcastically, "They're rare around here." Anna giggles and pats my arm
as I sit down.

Marty stands and says, "Good morning mother, dear. It's sooo good to see
you again." I know that he's taking the Mickey out of me, but he's stirring
her up too. I didn't pick him for an extreme thrill seeker! This madman is
flirting with Acacia O'Brien! If she had anything throwable in her hand,
I'm sure that Marty would not have been able to avoid it at this close
range. But I suspect that she is on her best behaviour. Why? Are she and
Anna hatching something?

I know that I may regret it, but my upbringing demands that I compliment
Anna and Mum on the pumpkin pie and cookies. I say, "That was really
delicious. I've never had pumpkin pie before. It's much nicer than I had
imagined it would be. Thank you. Which one of you is the chef today?"
Marty's and Will's eyes widen as they look at each other in disbelief, as
though they can't believe that they have just witnessed me digging myself a
deeper grave!

Anna replies, "It's one of Mum's specialties." I exhale a lot louder than I
had intended, not realising that I had been holding my breath. Then Anna
adds, "but I do have something for you - inside." I gulp, look at Will and
Marty who are both slightly shaking their heads in pity and disbelief. Will
is biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from laughing. The look on
Marty's face says, "Are you nuts??"

Anna gets up and takes my arm for me to follow her. What is she going to
do? Give me a pash, or a grope? My heart is thumping. I ease myself out of
my chair. Marty deliberately nudges me with his elbow as I get up. Inside,
Anna reaches down to a chair, then hands me a colourful cushion. She says,
"I understand that you want one of these for school." When I reach out and
take it, she pats me twice on the bum and adds, "Not that I think you need
it."

I laugh at her boldness and, without wanting to give her tentative attempt
at intimate interaction any significance, simply say, "Thank you,
Anna. That's very thoughtful." We've been inside for no more than thirty
seconds when I go back out. Anna doesn't follow. Mum heads back inside as I
motion the guys to get back on the job. Do I hear giggling from inside the
house? I head for the truck, place my shirt and the cushion on the seat and
retrieve my hat.

Marty punches me on the arm. "You know what's gonna happen now, don't you,
you fool?"

"What?" I shoot back at him, partly in fear of his impending answer.

"She'll be cleaning out the spare cottage next to the house, and the next
time she goes into the big town, she will check out the preacher's
availabilities to perform a wedding ceremony. Then she'll be inviting
people to keep certain dates free `for a big event'."

"Bullshit!" I retort, missing him with an attempted punch to his shoulder
as he steps aside and cackles with laughter.

As we set about completing the chicken coop, I can't get Anna out of my
mind. Is she really the witch that Marty makes her out to be, or the nympho
that Will dreads? Family exaggerations! Or is she simply a talented and
very attractive young woman?



To be continued...

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