Above the photograph were the words The Black Stump and underneath it read, "A collection of photographs by Jill Forsythe."
"You never said a word!" Vicky looked at Jill in amazement, as exclamations of delight and congratulations filled the room.
"I couldn't have done it without Tim," Jill said, embarrassed by the attention. "It was really his idea and he pushed me all the way. Most of the photos were taken here."
"So they were. Look, there's the house." Vicky held up the book for the others to see.
"Roo, dear. You really are very clever. These are wonderful," said Elizabeth.
"Let me see," Dave was saying as he tried to look over Vicky and Alistair's shoulders. "Where's my copy? Didn't I get one too?"
"No, sorry," Jill grinned. "If you want one, you'll have to buy it, but I did get you something." She handed him one of the remaining parcels, and then shyly held another out to Michael.
"Oh, excellent!" A loud cry came from Dave as he uncovered a book with a photograph of a car on the front. It was titled A Pictorial History of the Holden.
Jill smiled at his enthusiasm and returned the kiss he planted on her cheek, but covertly she was watching Michael. He too had unwrapped his parcel and was gazing silently at its contents. Jill could feel her heart thumping as she waited for his response. He must like it, she thought, he must! Then slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers.
"Thank you," he said thickly, as he put the framed photograph down and took a step closer to her. His eyes were gentle, but she could feel the tension in his body as he put one arm around her shoulder and kissed her parted lips. To a casual observer, it may have passed as a brotherly kiss, but Jill felt the subtle movement of his mouth against hers and the momentary tightening of his embrace so that, for the briefest of seconds, her body was pressed against his.
"Thank you," he said again, the intensity of his eyes burning into hers emphasising the sincerity of his words.
The fire he'd ignited, threatened to consume her and she couldn't speak. A fierce surge of happiness swept through her. She'd wanted so desperately to give him something special, and she knew she'd succeeded.
"Hey, show us." Dave's voice brought them back to the others and Michael set the photograph across the arms of his chair so everyone could see. It was a picture of Michael and Bushranger standing by the river. A noise or movement upstream had momentarily caught their attention and their heads were turned towards it. Bushranger looked magnificent, his black coat shining in the soft evening light, his proud head held high with the pointed ears pricked forward. Next to him, his hand resting lightly on the horse's wither, stood Michael.
On the surface, it was a peaceful portrait of deep and silent comradeship, but there was also an undercurrent of hugely powerful masculinity, controlled for the moment, but capable of breaking forth at any time.
"Gosh, Roo," Vicky broke the silence which had fallen over the room as everyone looked at the photo. "That is the most amazing photo I've ever seen. Doesn't Bushranger look fantastic! And I can scarcely believe that that is my usually horrible brother with him. Crikey, Michael, who'd have guessed you could be so photogenic? I guess it must take an artist's eye to recognize your potential, eh?"
"I guess so. No one else seems to have done."
Amid the light-hearted banter, Jill was suddenly afraid she had unwittingly exposed her feelings for Michael, and was relieved to hear him say he was taking the photograph to his room.
With all the presents unwrapped, attention turned to the Christmas feast, and the others were already seated by the time Michael returned and took his place at the table opposite Jill. Still shy, Jill avoided looking at him, and when at last she accidentally caught his eye, she was surprised to see that, despite seeming friendly enough, it was as if a shutter had come down behind his eyes preventing her from looking too deeply.
Considering his increasing friendliness to her over recent days, Jill was at a loss to explain his sudden withdrawal, and when their eyes met again as the meal drew to a close, she was shocked to see the tightness about his mouth, his clenched hands and the give-away tic at his temple. His face remained expressionless, however, as seeing the perplexed look in her eyes, he merely gave a resigned shrug and announced he was going to the Longrohs.
By 10:30pm that night, he hadn't returned. The others already retired to their beds, Jill lay on the banana lounge by the pool in her bikini, gazing up at a sky so full of stars it sparkled like a diamante. She'd spent the afternoon telling herself it was hardly surprising Michael would spend Christmas Day with the woman he was planning to marry, but it had done little to assuage her disappointment or dispel the empty feeling which seemed to pervade her whenever he wasn't around. Now it seemed she also had to accept that he was spending the night in Rachel's arms.
Then as though an arctic wind had swept past, a shiver rippled over her as she heard the sound for which she'd been waiting. The tempo of her heartbeat quickened, and her stomach felt leaden as she listened to the ute come down the drive and turn into the shed. After spending the day longing to see him, longing to be alone with him, now it was at last a possibility, she was afraid.
She could no longer deny the truth, that she loved him, not as a sister, but with all the desire and passion and hopes and dreams of a woman. She had always loved him and deep down, so deep even she hadn't known it was there, had been the belief that one day they would marry and River Gums would become her real home. Now, though, she was forced to admit how far from reality her hopes had been. Michael didn't love her in return, would never love her, and had already chosen another to be his wife.
The enormity of this admission and the thoroughness with which her dream had been smashed was overwhelming. She'd kept her true feelings for Michael a secret, even from herself, for so long, and now at the very moment in which she finally acknowledged her love, she had once more to bury it, this time deeper and forever. Overwhelmed by a terrible pain and loneliness, Jill gabbed her towel, and was about to escape to the safety of her room when she heard the side gate gently click open and saw the man she adored walking towards her.
"Hi," he said. "I was hoping you'd wait up. Come." Without any further explanation, he took her hand and started back to the outside gate.
"Where… Michael," Jill hesitated, but he merely tightened his hold on her hand.
"I said come," he ordered her gruffly, and she had no choice but to obey.
He didn't speak again until they'd reached his room.
"I just wanted to thank you again for the photo," he said, gesturing to the chest of drawers upon which his Christmas gift from Jill now took pride of place.
"Oh, really," murmured Jill blushing with embarrassment and pleasure. "Think nothing of it. I was happy to do it."
"But I think a great deal of it, and I want to give you something in return." He handed her a square, flat package.
"Oh, Michael," Jill breathed with delight as she opened it to reveal the Mozart concerto to which they'd listened together. "But this is your copy! You shouldn't have… but I'm glad you did. I will treasure it."
"I hope you do, and maybe when you're back in the city and you play it, you'll think of me. Okay?" As he spoke, he took the gift from her hands and placed it on a chair, and moved a step closer to her.
Immediately, Jill was aware of nothing but the powerful magnetic attraction, which flowed like a current between them.
"Now then," he murmured, his eyes burning into hers "I think we have some unfinished business, don't you?"
Gently enfolding her in his strong arms, he bent down and closed his mouth tenderly over hers. Unable to resist, Jill swooned helplessly, defenceless against the delicious sensuality that robbed her of all control. As his lips, now harder and more demanding, forced hers apart and his body pressed against her, she reached her arms around his neck and moulded her body to his. As she did so, the towel that she'd hastily pulled around herself as he'd taken her captive by the pool, slid to the ground.
"Oh, Roo, you're so beautiful!" Michael's voice was gruff with desire as his eyes raked across the swell of her breasts and the smoothness of the skin on her belly and thighs. He pressed his lips to her throat with a groan, then pulled back as he felt her apprehensive resistance. He looked at her, his eyes flashing with a mixture of lust and laughter.
"Naughty girl," he scolded her gently, his voice like an intimate caress as his eyes trawled lazily over her again. "How do you expect me to keep my hands off you if you go about with no clothes on."
"I—I… I wasn't expecting anyone." Jill stammered as she tried to retrieve her towel, but Michael held her firm.
"You were wearing only bathers the first time I spanked your bottom, if I remember rightly. Down by the river. That was the first time, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Jill whispered, her knees threatening to give way at the recollection of him taking her over his knee and soundly spanking her for going to the river on her own. It was the first occasion she'd ever been spanked and she'd been horrified at the time, but it was now a precious memory she kept safely stored in her heart.
She couldn't share it with anyone else, admittedly, but along with her other memories of him spanking her, she often revisited it when she was alone in her flat. She'd never understood why she thought about it so often, why she wasn't angry with him for spanking her until she cried, why it made her feel secure and aroused at the same time, but now she did. There was something deep and satisfyingly primal about the sensuous, caring, no-nonsense authority Michael had always exerted over her. It was what she wanted in a man, and it suddenly no longer surprised her that she had never been interested in anyone else. There had been nice men, attractive men, intelligent men but never a man like Michael. No other man had known how to take control of her the way he had always done.
Michael grinned down at her as he ran his hand sensuously over her bottom and then kissed her slowly.
"Mmm," he grunted cupping his hands around her cheeks and pulling her hips against him. "I'm actually rather glad you've always been a bit wilful and naughty. It means I'm never short of a good excuse to pull you over my knee. I rather think that if we were to spend more time together, your delightful bottom would spend most of its time with a very attractive blush on it, don't you?"
As he murmured against her, intermittently kissing her neck and nibbling her ear, his hands slipped under the elastic of her bikinis and massaged the firm plump flesh beneath. Jill was awash with sensations. Her nipples had hardened and her breasts strained for release from the flimsy bikini top now barely holding them. Between her thighs, the soft flesh was slippery with the warm juices of the desire he was creating within her, and her bottom tingled as his touch and his words triggered images of past spankings and her growing need for more.
"Spank me now." The words were out before she realized she was going to say them.
"What?" he looked as though he couldn't believe what he'd heard. She'd never asked for it before. "Do you mean that?" The huskiness in his voice was even more noticeable.
The enormity of what she'd just done had left Jill speechless, but she knew time was running out. The next time, if there ever was a next time, she visited River Gums, Michael would be married to Rachel and she couldn't imagine he would continue to spank her then. In a few days, she would be returning to Melbourne, and that would be the end of the special relationship she'd shared with Michael for so many years now. Maybe one day she would find another man willing to take charge of her the way this man had done, but somehow it didn't seem likely. Maybe this would be the last opportunity they'd have and she wanted him to spank her once more. She wanted to be aware as he did it that it was the last time, so that she would never forget it no matter what happened in the future.
"You know what you're asking?" he asked again gruffly and she could feel how hard he had grown against her and knew instinctively that this was not like the other times. "This won't be for punishment, but for pleasure."
Still Jill was unable to speak. Her eyes wide, she silently begged him to do what he did best—take charge of her.
"Come," he said gently, leading her to the bed. "Kneel on here with your hands against the wall. Just do it!" he added more sternly giving her a warning smack as she hesitated as if changing her mind.
A tiny moan escaped her lips as she obeyed him, kneeling on the bed and then leaning forward and placing her hands against the wall. She turned to look at him wondering what was coming next. He had never spanked her before in any position except over his knee. Once or twice, unable to find a place to sit, he had raised his leg and bent her forward and given her a quick hard spanking whilst standing up, but this was something quite new. He knelt too, but facing her rather than the wall, then slipped his arm across her belly and held her firmly.
"Arch your back, sweetheart," he whispered and the trembling girl in his arms complied. "Now turn your head and look at me." Leaning closer to the wall, Jill rested her head on her hands and then turned to find herself looking directly into his eyes. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her lips. "Say it again," he whispered, holding her eyes with his own.
Jill's body was so tense she couldn't get her lips to move; she tried to speak, but no words would come.
"Please, baby. I want to hear you say it." Michael's voice was as gentle as the hand that softly caressed Jill's bottom. "Say it for me."
"Spank me, Michael," she whispered. "Please."
Her eyes still caught deep within his, she saw the flash that went through them as she spoke, felt his arm around her tighten pulling her even nearer and felt his other hand stop rubbing her bottom and rise into the air before it came down with a smack against her skin. She gasped and blinked, but their eyes remained locked together as he raised his hand and smacked her once again, she loving the look of power and giving in his and he, the look of submission and receiving in hers. Again his hand came down, and he could see the sting reflected in her expression, but she wasn't drawing away from him, was yielding softly, arching her back and offering him her bottom for more.
"God, Roo," he muttered gruffly, swinging her around a bit so her hands came away from the wall. Her chest was pulled tight against his and her head was now resting on his shoulder. He was tall enough so his hand could still reach her bottom, and his mouth crushed down on hers as his hand rose and fell in a succession of quick, hard, punishing spanks. He could feel the blow, the shock, the sting from each one coursing through her body and into her kiss. He could taste her surrender as another sharp smack landed on her now pink cheeks, barely covered by the flimsy cotton of her bikini pants. And another. Each time his hand fell, he could feel her body shiver at the impact, could hear the breath catch in her throat, could taste the sweet pain in her mouth. He drew back and looked at her as he spanked her again and again and again.
"Oh," she gasped, her eyes closing as the sting rippled through her, then half-opening again. She could no longer keep them fully open, the lids hung half closed, languorous with desire as she drifted into a sensuousness where she was powerless against him. When she'd asked him to spank her, she'd thought he would take her over his knee as he'd always done; she had no idea it could be like this. It was almost more than she could bear and she knew she was close to tears, not from the stinging in her bottom, but the sweet, joyful, unendurable ache of being so utterly in his power.
His mouth crushing down on hers more brutally than before, Michael pulled her hips against his, leaving her in doubt that he was every bit as aroused as she. As his lips washed over hers, drawing her deeper into him, his tongue pushed between her teeth and his hand stopped spanking her and moved to close over her breast.
"Ahh," Jill groaned at the feel of his hand massaging her swollen breast and gently tweaking and rubbing her nipple. It was at once both satisfying and frustrating. She loved that he was spanking her, kissing her, touching her, but she wanted more. Oh, so much more.
As if answering her silent plea, he pushed her bikini bra out of the way and
dropped his mouth to the soft mound crying out for his attention. His tongue circled the little hard pink berry at its tip before his lips closed over it. Jill had never felt a man's mouth on her nipple before and sharp bolts of pleasure cut through her as he sucked and licked it making her writhe and moan. As his mouth explored her breast, his hands slid behind and quickly undid the fastening on her flimsy top. He pulled it off and dropped it on the floor by the bed, then leant back a little to gaze in delight at the succulence she offered.
"You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen," he smiled at her, his fingers lazily drawing circles around their heavy fullness, before tracing a path downwards past her navel. Jill sucked in her breath as his hand reached the edge of her bikini bottoms and he looked into her eyes. She loved him, she wanted him, but there was a niggling in the back of her mind. A voice she knew was trying to remind her of something important, but one whose message she didn't want to hear. She didn't want anything to spoil this perfect moment.
Both still kneeling, Michael slipped his left arm around her shoulder as his right hand gently slipped lower and closed over the treasure still hidden by her bathers. Then above the pounding of her heart and the roaring of hot desire in her ears, Jill became aware of voices. It was Jack and Elizabeth strolling in the cool of the night, and although they were some distance from the shearers' quarters, their voices carried easily in the stillness.
Distracted by the voices outside, Jill momentarily lost her guard against the voice in her head which was repeating just one word: Rachel. The sound of Jack and Elizabeth brought Jill immediately to her senses. Supposing they saw Michael's light on and came to say hello and found her there? What would they think? And why was he doing this when he was marrying Rachel?
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