by Philip Bond
“Pictures only.”
Placing a hand on his arm, she prophecies… “The proverb, ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ is attributed to 1920’s advertising but, in reality, it originates from Confucius.” Then as a conciliatory gesture… “Vision in the television news carries far more impact.”
With the preliminary over, a voice booms each main game player onto the court. Spectators applaud as each team member runs into the centre. Bodies fill all space on the planked seating with only a one corporate box remaining. As the voice announces the game referees to booing spectators, Harry notices two familiar faces enter the stadium making their way towards the remaining corporate box… “Those two just coming in just now, one’s Samuel Duffield and the other sat next to me on the aircraft into Canberra. He gave me a pass to your embassy’s reception. I’ve forgotten his name.”
Matt reacts… “Are you sure?” His voice chills… “I mean, are you really sure?”
“Yes. I may have forgotten his name but not the face.” She notices his reaction… “Is something wrong?”
“Not sure.” The booming voice announces tip-off in five minutes. Other spectators take the cue to rise and head for either toilets, concession stands or both. Matt physically urges Harry to move… “Get up and go to the bathroom, now!” Spectators begin filling into the seating, a group of ten stepping into the bleaches just in front.
“I don’t need to,” she flusters.
“Don’t argue, go now.” There’s no negotiation offered.
Three bodies immediately in front are moving towards the exit with Harry following reluctantly. She looks back seeing Matt exiting also, albeit in the other direction. Finding her way to the female toilets to see a line, snaking from inside. She didn’t want to go anyway.
Just then, a hand grabs her arm… “Let’s go.”
She’s startled before she’s relieved to see owner… “Matt, what is wrong?”
He looks determined and authoritative… “I don’t know, but we’re outta here.”
Although bewildered, she’s not about to argue, instead moves with him… “Where are we off to?”
“Somewhere else.”
With the spectators returning to the benches, Matt and Harry are the only people leaving the stadium. They head across the road towards the car park… “I’m guessing you know the American with Duffield?”
“Let’s go somewhere away from here, then we’ll talk.”
Matt helps Harry onto the bike before also mounting his steel steed. No kick-start this time; firing the electric starter two-cylinders erupt into life engaging gear and they glide out from the carpark.
Wondering at the cause, the immediate change in attitude, he becomes so serious so quickly; maybe he has a sensitivity that she needs to master?
The evening remains warm, although the breeze over the body cools. Concern is now a world away as they ride along the parkway, Harry enjoys holding his firm body. Soon, they stop at the main gate of the Royal Military College Duntroon.
The guard steps out from a shadow… “G’day Matt, in for a good time?”
“You got it in one, Ray.”
“And who’s the lovely lady then?”
Before she can lift the helmet’s visor… “Harry Reisner.” Matt’s quickest.
The guard straightens his back… “Bloody hell, you don’t do things by half.” He waves them on… “Enjoy your night.”
“We will.” Harry has the visor now open.
The quiet of the establishment’s broken with the Harley’s noisy entrance. He steers the beast into a cycle parking bay not far from the entrance to the Sergeants’ mess… “At least, here we can be alone.”
Harry bites her tongue, at least for now.
Being over six foot, black and built like the proverbial brick shithouse, Matt’s instantly recognisable, and is… “Matt, you black bastard. Where you been?” The voice belongs to a red-haired man with a slight midriff bulge, ruddy cheeks and maybe early fifties. He sets eyes on Harry… “And in company with a woman no less.” Ruddy cheeks, clicks to attention… “And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
Looking to his companion… “Harry Reisner, may I introduce you to the genuine Australian bastard.” Then to the Australian… “Regimental Sergeant Major Kevin Carmody, or nicknamed by those around him, asshole.”
Kevin steps in between them, gliding his arm into Harry’s… “Pay no mind to this reprobate, my dear.” Skilfully, he separates man from woman… “Allow me to escort you into this salubrious establishment.” They step inside as Kevin directs back to Matt… “I’ll look after the lady while you sign her in.” Kevin glides Harry inside leaving Matt standing watching the Australian steal his girl… “Now young lady, what will I order for you?” He interrupts her, about to answer… “No, let me guess,” hesitating… “A red, yes of course a red, I think Shiraz.” Kevin places Harry at a table close to the bar bellowing to the barman… “Corporal, a double Jameson no ice, a double Blanton’s Gold Edition Bourbon and a glass of Rosemount Shiraz.” Matt joins them at the table… “There you are. What kept you? Harry and I are getting acquainted.”
Sitting down at the table, Matt leans towards Harry’s ear, for both to hear… “You have to watch this person, babe. He can stage the best ambush from anyone I know.” Matt reaches over to clasp Kevin’s hand and vigorously shaking it… “He’s a class act.”
Both men obviously enjoy each other’s company. Harry is especially enjoying the engagement… “So, Regimental Sergeant Major Carmody, what do you do in this place?”
“Babe,” Matt intervenes… “He owns it.”
“All of it,” is her jovial response.
“Yes, my dear,” Kevin proudly announces… “All of it.”
“Wow,” maintaining the comedic line… “Nice location, close to the airport.”
Returning to his newest bestest friend… “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing with this man?”
This scenario repeats frequently; Matt wins female attention, immediately Kevin ingratiates himself, creating a trio. Usually allowing Kevin to command the conversation but interestingly enough, not on this occasion, instead… “We’re at the basketball.”
Condescending… “Such a silly American game,” turning to Matt… “Give me rugby any day.” Then back to Harry… “Didn’t like the basketball?”
Again… “The game hadn’t started,” Matt answers… “Who was in the crowd created a problem.”
Kevin changes his demeanour to ask… “So, tell me?” The barman places drinks on the bar Kevin beckons him to bring them over.
“Well you know who Harry is, the freeway incident and her Newcastle drugs exposé.”
The trio goes silent as the barman first places the wine on the table then, the Whisky and Bourbon.
As he departs, Kevin demands… “Yes?”
Also for Harry’s benefit, Matt explains… “Sanders arrived at the ball game with Duffield. I had to get out before Sanders sees us together.”
“Sees us together,” she demands… “Why?”
Matt opens… “As soon as I saw them, I just had to get outta there. I didn’t want the situation or me compromised. Couldn’t think anywhere better to go, hoped you’d be here. I knew you’d help answering Harry’s questions.”
Replacing joviality for the serious… “My dear,” looking to Harry… “He’s CIA. He and Duffield know each other from Somalia.”
“CIA, Somalia! One or both of you better explain.”
Again, Kevin leads… “Duffield was a captain 1st Battalion RAR. Sanders was CIA station chief. There were rumours about drug smuggling.” Pushing back in his chair to straighten his back… “Although nothing proven.”
“What, heroin?”
“No, Khat.”
“Khat,” never heard of it… “What’s that?”
Again, Kevin leads… “It’s a flowering plant native to east Africa, its flower produces an amphetamine like stimulant. It goes over big
in the US.”
There’s an obvious question… “You both know, so why don’t the authorities?”
Kevin’s first again… “As I say, no evidence, no one talks.”
“By implication, you both suggesting these two are back in business, here in Australia?”
“Not as much.” Matt leads… “I don’t know these guys are doing anything illegal. I didn’t connect your Newcastle story with these guys until you identify Sanders and Duffield. The coincidence is too much to ignore.” He rubs her hand… “I may be totally wrong tonight at the ball game; I just went on instinct.”
“Instinct,” something the RSM attempts to teach aspiring officers, “is what keeps you alive.”
“Okay, let me get this straight; Matt, you got us out of the basketball because of Sanders and Duffield’s entrepreneurial past.”
“Yes.”
“There is proof?”
“As Kevin says, none alive.”
“So Matt,” she’s assemble facts… “You’re too young for Vietnam, so how do you know this.”
“Kevin and I know each other from other places, with time enough to talk about lotsa things.”
“Wow!” A chill overcomes as she relaxes into the chair. Only four days ago, a truck successfully runs her and the news crew off a freeway with almost catastrophic results. This time in Canberra is supposed to be rest and recuperation. If anything is now sure, she will join the Canberra gallery if only to pursue the story to finality.
For the remainder of the evening, Kevin leads conversation topics as they eat drink and laugh. Harry doesn’t revisit the drugs story and noticing the obvious, Matt doesn’t either.
Somewhere around 11 pm, Matt telephones for a taxi.
He has no intention of driving.
It’s a short taxi journey.
The cabbie stops outside her apartment building… “In the morning, you can phone a taxi to collect your bike?”
“Are you asking me to stay the night, babe?”
“Do you want a printed invitation?”
“Nope, we won’t find a printer open at this time of night anyways.”
Anticipation builds; mounting passion inflames sensuality as, in holding his hand, bypasses the lounge leading him into the bedroom. All through the evening in his company feels so right, so comforting, so safe and strangely familiar. There is returning, a reinstatement, a revival of something past.
Having engaged in traditional chatting and petting whilst riding the taxi, they forgo foreplay for the sensuality of his body. She feels his hand firm, stopping, turning her into him, their bodies meet to embrace, his is firm, taut and rigid. Engulfing her in his arms, magnetism tethers their bodies. Lowering his head, their lips meet tenderly, electrifying as they merge into a oneness.
Undressing him tenderly, softly, lovingly, and completely, he undresses her leaving only panties remaining. Once exposed, his erected penis is conspicuously apparent and beckoning. Like the inquisitive person seeing a ‘wet paint, do not touch’ sign, unable to resist, she touches, first to hold firmly with her right hand then couple his testicles with the left. As if on command, it seems to stiffen even more so. Resistance is futile as she draws him closer, sitting on the bed’s edge; lowering her head, she kisses the tip of his rigid member.
Electricity surges as she places it deep into her mouth.
Matt groans in euphoric ecstasy, wanting to equally participate, takes her hands laying her back with her legs over the edge, feet touching the floor. Parting her panties to one side, sliding a finger tenderly to stroke her clitoris, teasing slowly and purposefully. Breathing intensifies as she parts her legs. She’s moaning with pleasure as he lowers his head, replacing fingers with his tongue.
She moans euphorically, almost desperate for him to enter her. She holds his head gently drawing it up to weld their lips together. She spreads her legs for him to mount, pressing his body, gliding his firm rigid penis inside her vulva deep into her vagina.
This is like no other experience; the chemistry is profound; the moment must be endless.
She whispers… “Matt, I’m coming.” She pulls him inside her as far as possible… “I’m coming again.” Her orgasm tightens around his penis, feeling his heartbeat throbbing through member. She feels him issue inside causing her to grip his back not wanting to let him go, ever.
A powerful glue binds.
Together joined they lay, in the still of silence, no words can describe the mutuality of feeling both reach a higher plain never previously experienced.
May this never end.
*
She’s just entering the conscious domain; waking up with a body lying beside is something new.
This, somehow, feels right.
Matt stirs.
Running a hand over his chest, moving her head to kiss his neck. His energy is strong, warming and welcoming. Turning into her body, skin on skin, hands wander, again exploring, touching and feeling. Lips meet, as too their genitals. Euphoria erupts as oestrogen floods her brain. He continues kissing first her nipples, electrifying her senses, then her navel. She flexes as his kisses continue down her body till reaching her vulva. As if jolted by lightening, she groans… “Oh please, this never ends.”
This is new, she’s never experienced this previously, is this caused by this man, this Othello-like being?
Touching his head, stroking feeling in intense delight. Succumbing to his primal urges, he repositions his body again, glides his penis into her well-lubricated vulva, generating electrifying pleasure to both. The sensation’s so emotionally fulfilling, even spiritual, as souls unite. His hardening swells consuming her senses and filling her vagina, inflaming rapture. Fingers press into his back, tightening, not wanting to let go. Each thrust drives the pleasure meter into extremes. She wraps him in her legs, pulling his penis in closer, deeper.
Magnetism welds their bodies into one. Senses surge to extremes with both intoxicated, consumed through passion. Bodies entwine rhythmically as muscles flex then tense to rigidity; time stills; this moment is endless.
It is as if reunification happens.
Her neck is lathered in his kisses, blending with her perspiration, ever so sweet. Animalistically thrusting, driving, penetrating deep into her, his muscles tense; she, too, erupts into euphoric climax. Bodies go limp in rapturous exhaustion, remaining entwined, neither wanting to release the other as if in a magnetic vice.
This is a first for both, Harry would push away the partner; Matt would roll onto his back almost ready to depart. Not today, not now, not for either.
The moment lingers as each magnetically grips the other. No words are exchanged; words are superfluous and could not adequately explain the feeling each holds for the other.
They lay motionless with his body pressing onto her yet without discomfort. She does not want to part.
He sits up on the bed, spreading his legs, urging her to sit also between his outstretched legs. Lifting her onto his still not-so-limp penis, gliding it into her moistened vulva. Harry consumes him in her arms, he steadies her before, their lips meet in passion.
The moment ignites; chemistry fires the flame of passion; two flames merge into one.
*
Time stills as they sit breathing each other’s breath looking at the other’s face mesmerised in love until Matt’s eyes are drawn to the clock… “Hell, I gotta move. There’s a new lieutenant arriving today, and I’d better be on time.”
Not wanting this to end, she allows… “Matt, I’m going back to resign the Sydney job; I’m accepting Wellington’s offer.”
“When you’re going?”
“Maybe this afternoon or in the morning. What’re your movements?”
“At 07:00 I start a twenty-four-hour watch.”
“Ouch.”
“That’s the marines.”
She snuggles in for one last time… “But only until your papers come through.”
They kiss, but not for long… “Gotta go. I grab a cab from the
street, it’ll be quickest.”
Light in the room slowly increases, allowing her to see his physique. Firm moulded muscles, a body tapering to an equally firm waist, a cutely formed bottom and a stomach without excesses, Matt is the perfect male form.
Once dressed… “Bye, babe, let me know your movements.” It’s a lingering passionate kiss until breaking, leaving Harry exhilarated albeit tired.
*
It’s almost ten o’clock. Some in the network’s Canberra studio have been at work for almost four hours.
It’s time to drop in on Wellington; fortunately, he’s in his office… “I’m taking you up on your offer.”
“You will not regret the decision,” he knew she would… “So, what is next?”
“I’ll go back to Sydney tomorrow and formalise things there, make some arrangements regarding my apartment and come back within a few days.”
So confident is he, Wellington already drafts the necessary paper work… “The sooner the better. This election is underway, and stories will not wait.” The only unsure issue is… “Phillip will take this hard?”
“Possibly,” either way, there’re no regrets… “However, he has the network news to run.”
“You are correct; he will get over it.” That is enough time devoted to the menial… “I will process the appropriate paper work. Now Harrietta, you will excuse me; I have work to do.”
“Just hold on the paper work until I see Phillip tomorrow. I’ve the day to kill, where can I work?”
Wellington looks out into the newsroom… “Take any desk not occupied.”
Window views are all taken, however, there is one in a blind spot from Wellington’s office. Time enough later to get to know everyone so it’s down to work.
In summarising the story, it’s the strategy for the next stage and she emails the document to Phillip, noting she’ll be in his office 10 am tomorrow morning.
Phillip, I’m Taking a Job in Canberra
There’s no announcement. Phillip looks up to see Harry, standing just inside the door… “Wellington offered me the Canberra gallery job. I’m taking it.”
“Christ Harry, you’re a big city girl, not some Canberra hack.” The egocentric never considered this a possibility… “Reconsider, please?”