8 comments/  29637 views/  8 favorites

A Very, Very Naughty Girl

By: Egmont Grigor



* Set in New Zealand

CHAPTER 1

For nineteen years Greer Gregory spent New Year's Eve and all of January 'at the beach'. Being at any beach in mid summer was where many New Zealanders females lost their virginity by the age of eighteen.

But not Greer.

She'd turned nineteen in July and at the end of December, Christmas just behind them and the family was packing to go to the beach (they never called it Sinclair Beach named after the original surveyor) she was appalled she'd remained a virgin. Three times that year she'd made abortive attempts to lay a different guy and in despair had even whispered her need to her father Keith, half-hoping he would attend to her. But he'd just grinned, ruffled her dark hair and said she should just wait, that it was happen. 

Well miraculously it did. In mid-January that summer a much older guy came across her sunbathing in the sand hills, began chatting to her and she invited him to sit beside her and share a cool drink. 

The inevitable occurred and Greer returned to the bach (an unpretentious style of beach house), a huge smile on her face. 

It was now fourteen years later. 

Greer's parents had long sold the by then little-used bach with three of their four children scattered around the world and the fourth married to a tour operator in the South Island. Greer who'd become a successful novelist had only recently returned from the UK following the end of her childless marriage. Her husband had been fatally crushed in an accident at the airport where he was based as a pilot. The size of the compensation payout and his personal insurance meant she was a wealthy widow.

Excited at being back at the beach Greer stepped out of her hire car. The bach looked almost as she'd remembered it. It would be a great place from which to write. She knocked and a woman, much too large for her bikini, came to the door. She didn't look beach-friendly.

"Yes?"

"Are you the owner of this property?"

"Co-owner but sorry lady, we don't rent."

"I might be a keen buyer."

The eyes of the fatigued-looking dyed blonde narrowed. "Come in. My husband could be interested; I certainly am. After the kids left the place looking like shit yesterday we talked about selling."

The sale and purchase agreement was signed on Wednesday with settlement date in twenty-one days, January 31. Greer couldn't remember being so happy since the day she'd lost her virginity down along the beach.

She shifted in with just two bags, having purchased the bach 'as is', the price including all furniture and furnishings and even cutlery but not bedding. Her parents had installed most of the furniture after they'd had the bach built. 

A van arrived not twenty minutes after she'd unlock the door for the first time. The two men delivered bedding including new mattresses for two double beds and the three single beds. They took away the two sets of double bunks to the auction mart. 

During the next three days decorators repainted the interior. Then while the floors were sanded and three coasts of polyurethane applied Greer spent four days the next week staying several baches along the beachfront with Peter Bishop and his wife Wendy. Peter had invited her to stay with them during renovations rather than return to the town. Greer had grown up at the beach in summers with Peter who alas had taken Wendy's virginity instead of hers. He was a really nice guy. Peter introduced them and Greer deduced that Wendy, obviously pregnant, was in need of a friend of similar age at the beach. She learned the couple had gone to university together and were accountants with their own practice.

"Ohmigod, THE Greer Gregory," Wendy gurgled when seeing the book award plaques on Greer's bedroom walls when they'd come to inspect Greer's new home. "I have four no five of your novels."

"Oooh, in that case I must be good," Greer smiled softly and knew at that instant she was on the way to becoming one of Wendy's best friends. That became so obvious with Wendy hugging her and saying Greer was such a modest darling.

"Open some wine Peter while I cuddle your lovely lady and her baby, er your baby too."

Peter glanced at Greer approvingly as he went to the refrigerator. 

Greer felt she'd arrived home. Every school holiday break and many weekends throughout the years her family had lived in this bach. Strangely, she had little recollection and even less affinity for their more substantial home in the town.

"I love the beach," she said. 

Wendy said they did too and spent almost every weekend there. "I'm so happy to have you here. I must tell my brother Sebastian to visit us. You might really like him."

Oh yeah, Greer thought. She'd heard that optimistic claim a number of times. Females seemed almost desperate not to allow a previously married woman remain unmarried.

* * *

With darkness only just lifting next morning Greer smiled, watching the old Maori gentleman -- very correct use of the word -- Mr Pita Horo, looking even more stooped these days, walking to the reef at the southern end of beach, fishing rod in one hand, tackle bag in the other. She recalled watching Mr Horo for the first time she could remember, when she was about four; he seemed old then.

After pouring coffee Greer booted her laptop and began her new novel, set in the then British Colony of New Zealand, the year 1863.

Sullen and yawning unladylike, Lady Elizabeth Rowan-Steele stood at the door of the raupo hut on the sand hill, reputedly sited above the highest tides in living memory. She gazed intently at the fine warrior-like body of the Maori walking towards the edge of the sea. Orange dawn crept into the bay and Elizabeth kept watching, waiting for the native man or Maori her husband had told her to call Pita, to begin some kind of pagan ritual. He stood transfixed, knee deep in water when suddenly he lunged and held up a frantically wriggling fish now working its way down the shaft of his spear.

Elizabeth smiled, forgetting the primitive conditions she'd been thrust into since coming off their reasonably comfortable quarters on the brig Lady Liverpool. Yes, a nice portion of fresh fish for breakfast would go down a treat.

* * *

On Wednesday Greer went to the town by taxi. The Bishop's had invited her to dinner that evening and to stay the night, Peter anxious for her not to drive the winding road to the beach after having consumed liquor. Wendy insisted she accept and so it was settled.

Greer banked two royalties' cheques that had come in the mail and then visited pre-owned vehicle yards to kick tyres while listening salespeople give their views on the best car to be kept parked in the open at the beach. The opinions ranged from the ridiculous -- a Toyota soft-top sports car -- to one that really appealed, a two-year-old high mileage Land Rover Defender 'priced to sell'. Her style was to drive unspectacularly so performance wasn't an issue but she wanted a vehicle built to withstand rugged conditions, so purchased the Defender after checking the claim that it was indeed priced to sell. 

After a light lunch Greer set up her laptop in the town library and spent the afternoon researching early history of the district to incorporate some facts in her novel. With relief she found a reference that the name Pita (Peter) was in use by Maori locally in the mid-1850s, presumably introduced by early English missionaries.

Just before 5:00 when she knew Wendy would be finishing work, Greer called her and said she'd give her a ride home in her new vehicle.

"This is not an economic vehicle to own but it's in great nick," said Wendy the accountant, having no idea of Greer' financial position after buying the bach or that her new friend had just banked money from her publisher that had converted to more than $NZ28,000.

Wendy poured Greer wine.

"Thank god Peter will have someone to drink with; he hates drinking by himself and I won't touch it again until three months after baby is born. He even suggested, half-jokingly, that I seek an induced early delivery."

"Christ aren't men cold-hearted?"

Wendy looked astonished. "You know that was my exact thought when he said that, my very words."

"Did you kick him?"

"No but I thought of it."

"This is nice wine -- you fruit juice looks more water than fruit."

"It is. I desire to be a good mother."

"Wendy, can you fit me in as a client?"

"Yes sure. I could do it at the beach if you sort out everything for me."

"Um it becomes rather complex because I wish to avoid double taxation where possible and my investment income comes from all over the place."

"Roughly what annual income are we talking about?"

"Well with compensation and insurance payments after my husband Archer's death invested I'll expect my income to top $800,000 in the next twelve months. My income from my writing is rather substantial."

"Ohmigod, that's a packet. I graduated as well as business administration/finance and am licensed to practice as a solicitor so can also attend to your legal work if that's your wish. Who did you use for legal work when you purchased the bach?"

"Mr Shields."

"Ohmigod. Believe me darling real estate transactions are probably the only thing he is reasonably competent at. I must peruse your ground lease because some around you are due for renewal."

"No, it's fine, eight years to run. I made sure I looked at that but I'll be handing over all documents when I sign on with you. Here's to baby."

"Aw, what a sweet toast. You are lovely Greer."

* * *

Greer was sunbathing in the sand hills mid-morning, determined to return inside before the fierce heat of the midsummer day when a guy walked fairly close to her.

"Hi, looking to spy on couples doing it?" she joked.

He looked slightly guilty and said "Nah." Drawing away from staring at her well-filled bikini top he took a closer look at her face and said, "Greer, Greer Walsh?"

"Aye but I married so it's Greer Gregory now. Are you Jimmy Applefield all grown up?"

He grinned. "Right on the button babe. I'm a national park ranger these days and I can see where you've grown."

Greer took the chance. "They are in desperate need of attention Jimmy. My husband died three months ago. Remember I allowed you to spray my tits as part of your 19th birthday?"

"Hell yes and you were my first fuck although we didn't quite finish because mum caught us at it."

"Come to lunch -- I think I have condoms."

"Er I married Josephine Lucas."

"Well she'll be sharing it round still won't she?"

Jimmy's embarrassment showed. "Very rarely these days I believe. We have two kids and she's involved in women-interest groups."

Until now Greer hadn't been aware that having children and being involved in women-interest groups put the damper on adultery. "Well please yourself Jimmy. Lunch is at 12:30. I've..."

"Recently purchased your folks' old bach. I heard that. I called just now and found the front door open so guessed you must be around somewhere and so came looking for you."

"For what purpose?"

"God Greer, back off," Jimmy said flushing. "Just to say hello."

"Well the offer is for lunch or lunch plus sex. The decision is yours. Don't bother to turn up if you feel you can't help out an old friend."

"I-I better go. I'm on foot patrol. You must come to dinner very soon. Josephine was always a great admirer of you saying you were bound to succeed. Have you?"

"I've done okay. Off you go foot patrolling and hoping to sneak up on couples doing it. Do you find many gay couples at it?"

"Rarely guys but women yeah." Turning bright red at being dropped into making a confession, Jimmy said, "It's part of our duties, female rangers as well. Kids, upright and uptight older folk and little old women and grumpy, complaining men might come across them and be disgusted."

"Couldn't you erect signs saying 'Fornicators Only on Sand Hills' and thus have one duty less to police?"

"That's a great idea," Jimmy said thoughtfully, but frowned. "Oh gosh, lightening our workload could lead to loss of jobs and our national policy is to reduce signage."

Laughing, Greer waved Jimmy off, pleased she had spoken to him. She must remember to incorporate his 19th birthday coitus interruptus into one of her novels. Would he turn up for lunch? Greer didn't know, recalling teachers and his mother used to label him unreliable. But right on 12:30 he arrived in his little pickup and thoughtlessly parked in her driveway where signage on the vehicle of the potential adulterer would confirm to the wider community that that woman living alone was up to no good.

Greer, thinking only of herself, was merciless. "I found them," she greeted, holding up a six-pack of condoms.

Jimmy with his narrow and now very red face looked at the door through which he'd just entered like a cornered rat.

"I do believe I recall how to roll them on."

"C-could we have lunch and t-then discuss that?"

"Certainly Jimmy; we wouldn't want you to be late and miss having lunch," Greer said, at that withdrawing her claws to concentrate relaxing him. She did that by launching into the old days, being the only thing they had in common, and she soon had him laughing and contributing. He complimented her on the infused tastes of the chicken salad, probably only aware of the colouring of tomatoes and yellow and red capsicums. But he was off, recounting a couple of funny episodes they'd shared in their youth and as they finished Greer judged him to be ripe for the plucking so didn't offer coffee. Instead she said, "Over to the sofa Jimmy and let's finish what your mother interrupted."

He followed like a lamb and said almost with pride, "Jo says I'm a little too big for her."

"Well flip it out and let me be the judge."

"Should I lock the door?"

"Yes if you're nervous Jimmy."

"Not I'm no longer nervous," he said bravely. "Use of discretion in this situation is probably unwritten Parks Board policy." But he still ran to the door.

When he raced back Greer was able to assure him it was only a little larger than average. "I've had them so big I had difficulty breathing."

Jimmy's eyes appeared to protrude on stalks. "So I can feed in the lot?"

"Yes of course sweetheart. Are you sure Jo is not turning gay?"

Jimmy lost his colour and for a moment Greer thought she'd blown it, so dropped to her knees and warmed him up. She then dropped her dress and all he had to do was to undo her bra. As expected he fumbled but she waited patiently and then felt her own arousal really trigger when he crushed both breasts into his hands and cried, "Oh god, I've wanted my mouth around these bunnies from the moment I saw you on the beach."

"Go boy, go get 'em. I take a while to warm up."

For most of that afternoon the Parks Board had one ranger removed from active duty, performing illicit acts of indescribable lust. Greer managed to get him off four times and almost had to help the poor guy to his vehicle.

"This had been the most amazing afternoon of my life," Jimmy said devoutly. "Can we do this some more darling Greer?"

"What now in the cab of your vehicle?"

"God no," Jimmy said, clutching his aching testicles, "but soon."

"Of course darling, until I find a potential partner. Could you kindly leave your vehicle in the public parking area whenever you visit me?"

"Yeah of course. Do you really think Jo is turning gay?"

"I wouldn't think so. I suggest you buy some quality lube and coat your dick liberally before inserting. That could be the solution but remember most of the sensation women feel from humping originates from just inside the vagina."

"Get away with you!"

"I'm serious Jimmy. Look should I buy the lube for you?"

"Would you? I can't bear going to the check-out carrying stuff like that."

"I'll buy it as a wee present for you darling. You have given me a great gift this afternoon."

Jimmy blew her a kiss and drove off and Greer thought, laughed almost helplessly, probably to falsify a report about his diligence on patrol that afternoon, leaving no couples unturned. In the bath she thought it had been a long time since a guy had made her sweat like a pig. She'd loved it and it was a reminder there was no substitute for the real thing, not when properly applied. Jimmy was great at fucking and she really hoped the lube would make Jo more accommodating.

CHAPTER 2

Josephine had finished bathing the kids and they were playing on the floor when Jimmy arrived home.

"Hi Jo," he said.

"God you looked to have been dragged through the mill."

"Yeah, climbed up and down remote places much of the day, looking for litter and illegal fireplaces. I found a couple of lesbians at it."

"Oh you poor darling, how revolting for you. Please spare me the details."

"But don't you want to know how they do it?"

"No, you'll have me vomiting."

Jimmy appeared very relieved and was told to have a bath to relax his tired muscles from scaling those steep slopes. "I'll bring you a beer and will flop out my breasts for you to fondle because I guess you won't feel like putting me through the hoops tonight."

"Thanks doll, that sounds lovely. Guess who's back at the beach."

"Greer Walsh, or she was Walsh when we knew her?"

Almost terrified, Jimmy said yeah that he'd bumped in to her and they'd chatted for a few minutes, catching up. Wondering if one of Jo's friends had told her she'd seen him going into Greer's home he croaked, "How did you know she was back at the beach?"

"I read a small story in today's New Zealand Herald. She refused to be interview but they published a story anyway after confirming facts about her and having the photograph of her sent by her publishers. Darling, our Greer Walsh is one of my favourite authors; I have seven of her romance paperbacks. She must have had a face job since the time I knew her. In the newspaper photograph she is really beautiful. I had seen her photo on the back of her novels but never made the connection that Greer Gregory was formerly Greer Walsh. There's no mention she was born and raised in New Zealand."

"That's the Poms for you, still bleeding that they lost the colonies. I told her I must ask you to invite her to dinner."

"Jimmy we can't do that, not in our humble home. She's peerage."

Jimmy looked puzzled. "What's that?"

"Because of who her father is she was entitled through marriage to use the title of lady. People in England called her Lady Greer Gregory, using the name Greer because there are several Lady Gregory's. But Greer has refused to use the title and that is so sad."

"But why, that makes her one of us?"

Now it was Josephine's turn to look puzzled. "But who wants us to be one of us?"

"You would like to feel comfortable about her coming to dinner."

"But I can't knowing she has that title... formally she's a countess."

Jimmy said he was off to run his bath. Lady or not she still probably would say fuck like Jo did when accidentally hitting her shin on something.

"She definitely would not Jimmy, knowing her behaviour must be exemplary at all times."

Concluding his wife's attitude was absurd, Jimmy said, "I bet she uses a vibrator just like you do."

"Jimmy Applefield how dare you. Get out of this room!"

* * *

A reporter and photographer from the local rag East Bays News came over the sand hills looking for Greer.

"We found your front door open so assumed you might be sunning yourself ma'am. I'm Kitty Webster from EB News and this is young Jake Peebles."

"What Evan Peeble's older brother's boy? I was at school with Evan and knew your father Jake through hanging around with Evan a bit."

"Yes ma'am." 

"Well give him my regards and for goodness sake call me Greer and relax."

"May I take your photo now; a bikini shot looks really beachy."


A Very, Very Naughty Girl



"For what purpose?"

Kitty smiled reassuringly, "To go with my interview you in our small newspaper Lady Gregory."

"Very well but if the word 'lady' appears in your article I'll storm into your office and haul you out into Main Street and tar and feather you. Do you understand Kitty?"

"Yes Greer," Kitty said bravely. "But what if the editor inserts the title over my protests?"

"Who is the owner-publisher and probably editor?"

"Shaun Black."

"Ah, Shaun took over his father's business. Tell him Kitty, and excuse my language, if he does that I'll be in to rip out his balls."

"Yes ma'am, I mean Greer," Kitty said turning white.

Jake was ready to take the photograph.

"Please advise me about my pose Kitty. Tell me if I have enough breast top showing or do you want more and for fuck sake don't allow me to show any hint of a double chin."

"God you are a pleasure to work with Greer," said the girl aged nineteen or twenty. "Mom asks to be remember to you. She was Eileen Hansen."

"Ah Eileen, our sports mistress and was so hugely popular because of her amazing manner. I loved her and used her as one of my role models."

"Who mom?"

"She's around fifty now darling and beginning to slow down. When I first met her entering high school in Form Three she was very athletic, glamorous and exciting. You ought not underrate your mother. Okay, let's get this farce on the road."

Greer took them to her bach for lunch.

"I thought with your huge success as a writer you'd be living in a palatial residence in the town?" Kitty said, clearly carrying on her interview.

"Darling when I was huddled in dank and inadequately heated digs in London that was all I could afford on my writing scholarship, a blanket over my shoulders tapping out my first novel on an old Imperial typewriter I dreamed of being at this bach where I grew up over summers and most weekends, where even in winter it was often near freezing but never bleak. Even after my marriage to wealthy Archer Gregory and moved into our palatial apartment I still dreamed of summers back here at the beach. But that early depravation and later luxury living added dimension to my life and therefore to my writing."

"Will you write here, about New Zealand?"

"Yes, I commenced two days ago writing about this very beach set in the mid 1860s. My working title is 'Back at the Beach' because that is what my feeling is being back here. The commercial title will be nothing like that but I don't want to think about that."

"Greer this is a lovely lunch and I really don't wish to spoil my time with you but I'm not the reporter I want to be unless I push this. Please understand."

"Okay, yes."

"Yes what?" asked Kitty uncertainly.

"I withdraw my threats about any use of my title. You can quote me as saying this: Through my marriage to the eldest son of a Marquess who took his father's subsidiary title, the Earl of Rymer, I carry the title of the Countess of Rymer and normally would be addressed as Lady Rymer. But it was my preference not to use the title when I first married because I didn't want people thinking I married for the title. I had been assured people would think the worst of me and so I wanted to make it quite clear this young author from New Zealand was not a social crawling bitch. From there I decided to leave the title in abeyance permanently, despite people in the know always tagging me with the title that dies with me when I die"

"Um do you want me to quote that phrase 'social crawling bitch'?"

"Certainly Kitty; I'm telling you how it was. Well my publisher suggested it would be advantageous to my book sales to write as Countess Greer Gregory. I said to Mac my publisher that if he made any attempt to do that I'd leave him spiked with my shoe through his groin and break my contract and move to another publisher. I can't really say if that threat worked but that issue has never again been raised between us. You must understand Kitty I write to the image I see myself as, a girl walking barefoot through the sands of this beach composing stories in my head. It could have been catastrophic for me as an already established author to begin visualising me being a courteous, correct speaking and never swearing countess. Ohmigod, no woman true to her heritage would even think of making a switch like that."

Kitty said she probably could think of dozens of females who would.

"Darling, I did preface that comment with the words, 'No woman true to her heritage'. Now I didn't serve wine because you'll be driving and young Jake is still a teenager. Is this the end of this entirely unnecessary interview?"

"Ah just a brief recount of family details and living in town and here at the beach."

Next morning Greer's neighbour on the seaward side came running, red-faced and carrying a tabloid newspaper. She knocked shouting, "Lady Gregory, Lady Gregory... quickly come and see this... it's all about you."

Greer left her laptop and invited Mrs Fabish in. Mrs Fabish who'd merely waved a greeting until now appeared ready to curtsy. "Go pour two coffees please Annie while I read this bullshit."

"Yes ma'am."

"Cut the crap Annie or else I'll call you Mrs Fabish."

"Yes ma'am."

Greer groaned. Oh what had she done allowing the crappy local newspaper to interview her. She was unaware that a copy of the interview with a digital copy of the pictures of her in bikini and posing alongside the stack of her thirteen novels and holding her premier award for writing had been sent to newspapers throughout the country.

To her surprise Greer found the article difficult to fault though she thought it was inappropriate to blast the photo of her in a bikini all over the front page. Christ she was an author, not a long-in-the tooth beach babe.

She went to the town with documents and various legal papers for her appointment with Wendy at 10:00.

The receptionist jumped to her feet and said brightly, "Good morning Lady Gregory."

Greer squinted a little at the name-tag and said, "Good morning Lisa. In future please address me as Greer and that goes for everyone. Please pass the word."

"Yes certainly Lady Gregory."

"Lisa!"

"Ohmigod, yes Greer. Please don't impale me by the groin with your shoe." 

People in the room overhearing that looked aghast and when Greer laughed, Lisa laughed and everyone joined in. The noise brought Wendy from her office and she replicated Greer's voice rather well: "Don't you dare call me Lady Gregory otherwise I'll peg you still in your panties to the clothesline."

The screaming laughter brought Peter and his client out. He identified who it was and said, "Hi Greer, you bikini uncovered you brilliantly."

For some reason the entire office thought that was hilarious so Greer fled towards Wendy's office yelling, "Everyone, please call me Greer."

"God two minutes in our offices and you've already established yourself as our most revered client. How do you do it?"

"Sheer personality?"

"Add outspokenness and inventiveness with a touch of theatrics and eccentricity and I could be tempted to accept that."

"Oh are you also a novelist darling?"

Wendy collapsed on to her chair, shaking with laughter.

* * *

At 6:00 each morning as Greer had done since the day after buying her vehicle, she drove the eleven miles into town to undertake her fitness regime on the gym circuit and she finished by swimming sixty lengths of the pool. After fresh squeezed fruit juice and a low-fat muffin after showering Greer was ready to take on the world. She drove home leisurely, waving to the beach folk who had waved to here, en route to deliver kids to school and/or to go to work. 

At 10:00 Greer headed back to the town. Kitty was talking to the only other person in the small newsroom when the receptionist escorted Greer to Shaun Black's office. If Greer had noticed Kitty in the room she didn't display any recognition.

The senior reporter sitting beside Kitty said, "Oh God, the bitch is here to complain about your interview and for the newspaper for placing the bikini pic on the front page instead of the one of her with her novels."

"I-I don't believe so and please don't call her a bitch. She's just such an adorable person. Life just flows from her."

"Gawd, you are talking like a lesbian."

"Shut you mouth or I'll fill it with your broken teeth."

"Gawd Kitty, what's got into you?"

"I'm adopting Greer as my primary role model."

"Oooh, it's Lady Kitty I presume," said Shelley Cross.

"Right Shelley..." Kitty dropped her slapping hand on hearing laughter from behind Shaun's closed door.

"She probably was seduced by Shaun in their final year at high school."

"You mean Shaun was capable of tailing a babe with all that class?"

"From what I gather from mom she was guy-shy when it came to dating but was one of the boys if it was fighting, or swimming out to the reef at the beach or scaling the cliffs of McLeod's quarry."

"A real tom boy?"

"It appears so. Mom said in their final year Greer won the school dux award, the Buxton Literary prize, the athletics award and when the seventh form voted on their choice of the person most likely to succeed in life Greer won 90% of the vote."

"Cor, one hot chick eh?"

"It may interest you to know she said nothing about those awards to me and I'd all but asked what awards did she win and she said could we move on. I took that to mean she was embarrassed about winning no awards."

"What a sweet darling. I really can picture her being embarrassed at going up for those awards, thinking there were more deserving classmates."

"That's exactly what mom said she'd felt that day -- except for the Buxton Lit Award. Mom said Greer worked for that from day one and staff believed she'd could have taken it when in the 4th, 5th and 6th forms had the award not been restricted to seventh formers. She did English lit at university where she won a writing scholarship that gave her residency in England for three years."

"Quickly," Shelley warned. "Look busy; Shaun's door has opened." 

They looked up when Shaun had reached the stairs and stood aside to let Greer go down first. Greer waved and said, "Hi Kitty -- I like your hair up like that. Up for business, down for play don't you think?"

"Thanks for that awesome tip Greer."

Shaun returned to them five minutes later and Kitty was relieved to see him looking anything but angry.

"It was so great catching up with Greer again," he smiled.

"Did you remember shafting her?"

Shaun shuffled and then said, "Christ Shelley, you can't ask a guy a question like that about any woman let alone a celebrity."

"For what reason did she drop in?"

"To tell me in her opinion Kitty is showing the talent to become a top journalist opinion and to berate me for putting the bikini pic on the front page and enlarging it. She asserted she recognizes that showing an author can relax just like anyone else may have been my intention but who'd want their newspaper front page filled by an aging woman of thirty-three almost unclothed. I said I bet letters to the editor over that front-page pic would run five to one in favour and she said looking at me blandly, "Have you ever received six letters from readers in any one week Shaun? I said yeah and she said bullshit and we had a good laugh."

"Isn't she something Shaun?"

"Yes Kitty, she's tops. She was a favourite of your mother you know."

"I didn't until mom told my this morning. Shaun I believe she's on track to become a legend in this town. This town has produced no real celebrities that I can recall from reading district history."

"You might be right. I've agreed to publish a paragraph on the front page on Thursday signed by me that following publication of our lead article in Tuesday's edition, author and returned local resident Mrs Greer Gregory wishes to make it known if anyone addresses her using her ladyship title in her presence they are likely to be hung in their panties or underpants on the clothesline. If they only have a tumbler dryer, guess what? She says even children are welcome to call her Greer."

Shelley brayed, "She's wrapped you around her little finger. God what she wants you to write is funny."

"Yeah, and it may also interest you to know she'd donated five hundred bucks to our annual Easter Bunny fun morning we organize for kids."

"Gawd you were right Kitty. Greer certainly doesn't have a finger up her bum."

Shaun growled, telling Shelley not to be so foul-mouthed. "You've earned your next grading rise almost on the strength of that one article Kitty, effective from next pay day."

Greer had worked through to almost 2:00 am Thursday morning and was pulled from sleep just after 7:00 by a phone call.

"Hi you thieving bitch stealing my line."

"Pardon me but who is calling?"

"It's Wendy you idiot calling about your plagiarism in stealing my creative line about hanging up bad people in their panties."

"Borrowing your line yes but it has to be original to be plagiarism doesn't it? Anyway I owe you two a dinner. Friday night, any time you wish."

"Oh darling, 8:00 for drinks will be fine. You've stirred up the town so much we've had an exceptionally busy week. Have you seen the local rag?"

"No but I expect my near neighbour Annie Fabish will be in soon about my panel on the front page."

"Which one, the one featuring plagiarism or the one from the editor crowing about the record number of letters the EC News has received."

"What seven letters?"

"No you idiot -- Shaun has published four pages of them, picked from the ninety-seven received at the time the newspaper went to bed."

"Went where?"

"It's a newspaper term. I think it means the same as going to press."

"But the News is fully computerized and is imaged straight to plate. Those old terms surely don't apply?"

"Well in my book going to bed means the pages have passed from editorial and production to plate-making. Anyway how do you know about this hi-tech stuff?"

"One of my heroines ran a newspaper that changed from hot-metal to so-called cold type which really means photo-imaging. I had to do the research so I knew what I was writing about."

"Ohmigod, tell me about the titles you research before writing about your heroines' hot sex?"

"Oh I don't read up on that; I just invite a couple of likely lads to visit me at night."

"Gawd Greer, you are a fucking liar."

They laughed and when the call cut Greer fell back to sleep to be shaken awake an hour later by Mrs Fabish who knew which flower pot the spare key was kept under on the porch and now thought she knew Greer well enough to barge in.

"Ohmigod, you sleep in the raw?"

"Yeah Annie so no coming on strong to me."

"Well actually I have been involved in that since my late teens."

"Get away from me you big lesbian bitch!"

Annie hurriedly took two steps back and looked mortified until she caught the grin. "You bitch Greer, you scared the crap out of me just then. God I don't think I've ever known such a livelier woman than you. You're like a cheeky tom boy who's never quite grown up."

"Oh Annie I'm sorry to have startled you. If you must know I had a super hot time when I first arrived in London and joined a group of female writers not realizing all were partial to a bit of pussy."

"Oh no, don't tell me... I'll only repeat what you've told me."

"That's excellent Annie -- when I suddenly gain heaps of new female friends I'll know you have been putting it about, verbally."

Annie groaned and said she needed to sit down. Greer jumped out of bed, pulled on a pair of panties and a flimsy dress and said she'd put on a bra later. "Now let me see what the rag has to say about me."

The only adverse letter was from funeral director Tony Corban. Greer told Annie he was sour because her father won the men's championship at Spreydon Bowling Club for thirteen straight years and then left the club, allowing Tony to win his first senior title. Greer read out that letter.

Who does this Miss Greer Walsh think she is, taking up the entire front page of my local newspaper to flaunt her body at us like that? Okay she may have married an earl and has come home as widow Greer Gregory but I see no need for her to rub our noses in it. I bet she is doing this to try to sell more of her novels. Please return your front page to the top news page in your esteem newspaper Mr Editor.' 

Editor's footnote: Greer statement she was married to an earl checked out independently as being correct. We have received fifteen letters, mainly from women, but not published due to insufficient space, the consensus being what a great body Greer has for a thirty-three year old. I must say before the first letter about the article arrived Greer had expressed disappointment to me that I used that pic on the front page. For you information Mr Corban at the last count two months ago international sales of Greer Gregory's novels, mainly paperbacks, stood at 9,833,213. I obtained that figure from her publisher in the UK.

"Ohmigod, ten million novels. You are in the mega sales category. Why didn't you tell Kitty the reporter you have sold almost ten million novels instead of saying you've been successful with sales?"

Greer lowered her eyes and Annie said, "Ohmigod, no way are you shy but I can see you can be modest."

Greer ploughed through the letters with great interests from correspondents who were not only fans of her as an author but others included her former ballet tutor, Kitty's mom, her pony club tutor, a former captain of the surf club who described how young Greer always 'pulled beyond her weight' and amassed thirteen individual rescues where without her intervention their might have been drownings and several former schoolteachers. Perhaps the letter Greer liked most from Mrs Angus (83):

I was circulation manager for EC News for thirty-four years and looked up copies of my old records to refresh my memory. Greer Walsh as she was then delivered our newspapers every Tuesday and Thursday for almost four years, from our minimum starting age of eleven years. Even at that age she had the nous to pre-enrol and with a vacancy on my novels I started her without authority seven days before her eleventh birthday so she probably is our youngest delivery person ever. Greer finished with a perfect attendance record. That suggests to me if she were sick she made her deliveries and returned to her sick bed. When her family was holidaying at the beach Greer came into town with her father to complete her newspaper round and would bike all the way back to the beach. I also point out Greer was the only child delivery person of twenty-one minors on the payroll who turned up during that dreadful cyclonic storm twenty-one years ago. The records show Greer personally delivered newspapers on four rounds and our newspaper personnel and I delivered all other areas. Greer refused to be interviewed and photographed so we could report her story in the newspaper but Mr Black, father of the EC News' present owner-publisher-editor, was so proud of her that he drove out to the beach next day to find Greer who was helping her father to clean up after The Great Storm to personally hand Greer a $100 note in recognition of her outstanding service to the company. It doesn't surprise me to find Greer is making a big name for herself as a resulting of knuckling down to writing novels. Neither will it surprise me one day to hear Greer is to be celebrated as one of the top citizens of this town ever. I'm glad you have returned to us Greer and I'm sorry you lost your husband in that tragic accident at his workplace.

"God Mrs Angus, what a lovely letter," Greer sniffed. "I must visit you. I wonder how she knew about the death of my husband Archer?"

"It was the EC News that broke the story to unmask you," Annie said proudly. "I understood from Gavin my husband who does IT troubleshooting for the newspaper company that as soon as Shaun the editor saw your name as the widow and you were described as a novelist he knew it must be you. He made urgent enquiries and received the information he wanted but you refused to be interviewed by anyone so he couldn't flesh out the article as he stated in the newspaper. Ask Shaun or Kitty to supply you with a copy of the stories -- there were several of them. Until then New Zealanders had assumed author Greer Gregory was an Englishwoman."




A Very, Very Naughty Girl



"Well that was partly my strategy and as my earlier novels were reprinted my name was changed to Greer Gregory, formerly Greer Walsh. I wanted to be known as an international writer, not another New Zealand Katherine Mansfield wannabe. You should blame the New Zealand media for not sniffing up leads. It was published widely that I'd won the New Zealand fiction writer scholarship to London with a small accommodation allowance for three years. And then it was often reported in the British press and literary magazines I was a New Zealander and often mentioned when I won awards. But I wanted to remain out of the attention of the New Zealand media who'd attempt to brand me as a New Zealander. In the second year of my scholarship when Archer and I became engaged and married three months later at my request no mention was made that I was a New Zealander. If fact his parents were openly relieved to receive the request."

"Well darling you have recovered your true identity."

"Yes I appear to be widely recognized in the town centre."

"Darling, your interview and I imagine the bikini picture have been published in many newspapers around New Zealander, according to my husband who's seen the clips posted in the newsroom. I would imagine headings like, 'Celebrated Kiwi Novelist Returns Home and Dives Into Bikini' would be the norm."

Greer threw up her hands? "Well does it really matter? I stupidly gave that interview. Perhaps that was meant to happen."

Annie kissed her and said, "Come to dinner tonight. We eat early. Gavin is usually home at 4:30 looking for a drink so come at that time."

"Should I wear my bikini?"

"Save my marriage by not doing that darling." 

Greer had just sat down with Gavin and Annie when her phone went.

"Christ, I'm sorry. I should have turned it off."

"If I turned my phone off I'd be out of business," Gavin said. "Go own answer it."

"Hi it's Greer...."

She finished the call a few minutes later. "Did you take much of that in?"

Annie said, "TV1 is doing a half-hour special interview with you Thursday evening here at the beach using an Outside Broadcasting Unit and it will go live at 7:00. You said only if a $5000 fee was donated on your behalf to our surf club. End of story. Good girl. I thought you'd turn them down."

"Good show Greer," Gavin said. The president of the surf club is a buddy of mine. I'll call him out to get everyone down here on the beach in swimwear perhaps having a practice and get you fitted into a one-piece club swimsuit. They might even fake a rescue and..."

"No thanks Gavin. None of that. The producer wants me in my bikini sitting on the beach at a table with my laptop and Valerie Vickers will interview me, appearing to stumble on me; she spends a week each summer here with her grandmother. Valerie is Donna Poole's daughter who is the daughter of Irene Smith from down the far end of the beach."

"God, isn't it a small world," said Gavin. "So the interview is down that end?"

"No, the TV van will be in our sealed parking area and I will be working just down from there. Annie I want you to bring martini's for Valerie and me to demonstrate our casual beach culture that I'll be saying is the real reason why I missed New Zealand when living in London."

"So I'll be on national TV?"

"Yes."

"I'll need my hair done and a new dress."

"No darling, I want you dressed as you were today in that old muumuu, with your hair looking as it's never seen a comb or brush. Promise my darling... no tarting up. Just your natural self."

"Okay but I insist on wearing a bra."

"No way Annie -- I want them moving about like a two-ring circus."

"Oh god."

"She's right Annie," Gavin nodded. "This must look authentic." 

An hour later the producer called back and was very apologetic. Greer said, "The TV interview has been cancelled unless I go to the Auckland studios but I said no. The producer and director have done the sums and decided with the expense involved and my limited appeal to what he termed 'mainstream New Zealand' too many things failed to add up so it had been decided to scrap the planned broadcast."

"Oh darling those TV boffins are mother-fuckers," Annie said nicely.

"No, it's okay. They are simply incompetent, or at least that guy was. He will send me a cheque for $500 as a disturbance fee. I think I know what that means. I'll donate that money to our surf lifesaving club."

Gavin said, "You must be really disappointed Greer?"

"No Gavin, that incident comes not within a bull's roar of writing your first novel and sitting looking at a pile of twenty-six rejection slips from publishers."

CHAPTER 3

On Thursday evening just on dusk, an hour after the surf club that maintained lifesaving watch in the swimming area by the clubhouse had closed for the night, Greer was on the beach with Annie eating over-ripe plums.

"Oh god look, that rider on the jet-ski is too close to point," Annie said. "He'll hit to submerged reef."

"The jet-ski has very little draught," Greer said. "He or she should be okay."

The sea was calm, showing no broken water over the reef. As they watched the craft going perhaps less than half-speed hit something with a crunch, stopping dead. They watched as the rider arched high and splashed into the water. He bobbed back up, not moving but floating in his life-vest.

Greer guessed the outcome. "God, he's knocked himself out hitting rock in the shallows. Call Bryce Waterhouse to launch the club's rubber inflatable."

"It's not there. Someone took it to town this evening for some sort of repair."

"Well I better go and hope to get there before he or she drowns. With luck he or she is floating head up as the vest is meant to behave."

"No Greer, wait. We'll get someone to launch a dinghy."

"Yeah and in the meantime he or she drowns. You do that but I'm swimming out."

"No Greer, there's no moon. It will be dark soon."

Greer had stripped to her bra and panties. "Kiss-kiss Annie. Try to get a boat with a spotlight out to us."

It was a straightforward swim of about 800 to 900 yards with no current because it was only a half hour after neap tide. The water was flat. Greer swam strongly, taking care not to over-exert but then came a problem. In the gathering gloom she lost definition between the coastline on her right and could no longer clearly see the point. She knew she was in a pickle. She grimly thought of the newspaper headline, 'Former Regional Champion Junior Female Lifesaver Fails Near-drowning Victim'.

She stopped and attempted to slow rising panic. She looked back and recognized Annie's house ablaze with lights and off to the right the Miles' home. The space between them was the road to town. She lined up with that, turned and swam on.

A few minutes later she stopped and had a lucky break. She looked up at where she thought the point was and made out a ghostly shape. Christ, it was the outline in the failing light of the white water pump house on McBride's farm. She was almost there.

"Call out to me," she yelled.

"Who do you want?" answered a guy who sounded rather groggy.

"You bozo, you rode over the reef and hit it at force."

"It wasn't my fault."

"Oh yeah -- are you hurt?" 

"Hit my head. Blood everywhere. Um, sharks?"

"Unlikely this early but usually they shy off men because they smell."

"Ha ha."

"Keep talking to me so I can home in on you."

"What good will that do?"

"I'm a strong swimmer, a former surf lifesaver."

"Truly, no bullshit?"

"Yeah."

"Well it's my lucky day. Come over here darling with that flotation device lifesavers swim out with."

"I said ex lifesaver, so there's no flotation device," said Greer, trying to line up the guy. She was swimming breaststroke to hear and follow the direction of his voice.

"I felt a fish -- a shark," he yelled in near panic.

"It's probably drifting seaweed."

"Come to me you stupid bitch. Can't you see me?"

"No you asshole. Can't you see me?"

"No." 

"Well that's our problem but a rescue boat ought to be here shortly. Annie is raising the alarm."

"Annie Fabish with the wobbly tits?"

"Yes you rude bastard. We must be close; you voice sounds very near. What's your name?"

"Sebastian Roberts."

"I'm Greer Gregory."

"Christ my sister is setting us up to date over dinner this Saturday."

"Oh I don't believe that. Wendy told me her brother is a gentleman."

"That's bullshit. No way..."

"Shut up. Splash water so I see the phosphorous. I think I'm very close. That's it; no need to attract sharks because splashing plus blood means a dining frenzy to them."

"You bitch. You told me..."

"Shut up, let me put my arm around your back and lock under your far arm." 

"Why aren't you swimming me towards shore, away from sharks?"

Greer said she needed a brief rest to recover from her 800 yard-plus swim. They should be quiet listening for the motor and keeping a lookout for a spotlight. "Annie will be on the boat knowing exactly where we are."

Greer felt Sebastian's hand on her belly. She whispered could he wait till they were ashore before he groped for sex.

"You're freezing," he choked. "I'm in a wetsuit and I'm cold."

"I'm okay, it's what girls do." Greer whispered. "Ah, here they come."

"Where I don't see anything although I hear a motor."

"Look this way," Annie said, taking his hands and pointing. "See the spotlight on the cliffs. They are using that for navigation. Soon it will go right up over the cliff as the operator looks to get a bearing on the white pumping shed and Annie will tell them they're almost there. They'll cut the motor and they'll hear me whistle and they'll put the spotlight in our direction to locate us. A dorsal fin cutting through the water in our direction will probably give them another reference point."

"D-dorsal fin?"

"Very unlikely Sebbie, relax."

"Wendy calls me Sebbie and has done so since she was four. Mom hates it."

"I adore your sister. God she'll make a wonderful mother. There they go, bang, the spotlight hit the pump house first shot. I bet Annie is directing that."

"Did you know she was a rowing champion, coxless four I think, and they just missed gaining selection in time trials for the Olympics?"

"Annie was? God I knew she'd be good at something."

The spotlight hit them and they heard Annie shout almost simultaneously, "There they are, turn a few degrees to starboard Johnny!"

Greer smiled when bathed in light she saw Sebastian looking to his right for any sign of a dorsal fin and then she admired his coolness under stress when he said, "How the hell will the guy steering the outboard motor know what a few degrees means?"

"It doesn't matter sweetie; he'll steer to the beam of the spotlight."

"You called me sweetie."

"Oh did I?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm in need of a romantic affair. Now shut up, Annie will want to talk to us."

"Ahoy there," Annie shouted. "Everything okay Greer?"

"Yep, but Sebbie needs to go to hospital for an examination of a head injury."

"I don't."

"You do so shut up."

Annie called they would approach slowly. "Oh it's Sebastian Roberts. Thank you for saving Greer Sebastian."

"But I didn't..."

"Shut up Sebbie," Greer whispered. "She was scared I'll drown, losing my way in the gathering darkness."

"Jesus."

"Sebbie, when you land and receive medical attention stick to the story you regained consciousness and waited for the rescue boat you knew would be coming. I'm not to be mentioned, do you understand?"

"B-but I don't understand. You are a heroine."

Annie said sternly reaching over to grab the front of Sebastian's life-vest. "Shut up and do what she says Sebastian. Greer thinks she's had more than enough publicity already. She'll now do a runner for a couple of days and will be replying on you not blabbering to anyone about this. Johnny put your fat butt over portside to counter-balance us. Get ready to push him up Greer on the count of three; Spider you lift him gripping under his knees. Here were go, One-two-three."

The small aluminium boat lurched and water flowed in. But they got Sebastian aboard.

Greer made no attempt to struggle aboard. "There's insufficient freeboard -- take Sebbie now and spotlight the jet-ski for me to allow me to get a bearing. We may as well attempt to salvage it while we're out here."

"Greer no, you've been through enough already."

Sebastian was ignored.

Annie leaned over, giving Greer Sebastian's vest, her waterproof torch and two chocolate bars. "Keep safe darling."

"Annie, brief the guys. I want no mention made of me. Get Johnny to come alone because the jet ski is probably holed and partly filled with water so will be a heavy tow.

"Greer, I want you to come with us and take no further risks. Tell her Annie."

"Shut up Sebastian; Greer is in charge of this operation."

"Thanks darling. Take him to hospital in my vehicle; it's roomier than your micro-car. The keys are behind the sun-visor."

"Yeah the safe place where we all put them. Off we go Johnny and I'll have your balls if you don't find Greer when you come back here."

The roar of the motor drowned Sebastian's cries of oh god, oh god."

Greer floated on her back, having to kick strongly because the current was building into flood tide. She reached the jet ski using the torch to finally locate it, having overshot it and holding on with one arm began munching a chocolate bar.

* * *

Sebastian was told he was required to remain in hospital for twenty-four hours for observation following light concussion and to have his head wound properly stitched next day. He awoke before dawn, feeling very drowsy but still managed a huge grin. A visitor had called during the night: resting against his white and blue hospital water bottle was a folded piece of paper that read, 'See you in a couple of days darling.' It was signed by a lipstick kiss.

The note was still there when his worried sister hurried in at 7:00. She smiled to meet his smile and then saw the note and frowned.

"Does she know you are married?"

"No."

"I've had a change of mind Sebbie. I want you to stay away from her."

"Too late Wendy; it's begun."

"Sebbie she'd under enough stress attempting to dig back into a normal life in her homeland but events appear to be conspiring against her."

"Have you spoken to Annie and did she tell you everything about the drama?"

"Yes and she asked me to say nothing about Greer's involvement."

"Greer took a huge risk swimming out into darkness like that and was incredible brave staying out there alone and cold to ensure my rescue dinghy didn't swamp through being overloaded."

Wendy failed to divert him by saying, "That's what people at the beach do darling although not many would have volunteered to stay out alone."

Sebastian looked at his sister with mournful eyes. "Then she swam off to try to find my jet-ski to begin the salvage attempt. That young woman is incredible."

"Yes, little wonder she writes imbuing heroic qualities in her leading characters; it's simply an extension of herself. Please at least keep away from her until you begin divorce proceedings against that philandering bitch you call a wife." 

"No."

"God did you two have sex out in the sea?"

"Not that I remember," he grinned. "I'm sure I'd remember sexual connection with a women of that quality."

Wendy failed to stop her smile. The straight-haired blonde bent over and kissed her brother. "I was given only ten minutes to see you because hospital routine is due to start in a few minutes. Give me the name of your marine insurance company and I'll report last night's accident after calling Annie to find out where the craft is now. I'll see you during visiting hours this afternoon and can collect you at 10:00 this evening when the 24-hour watch ends."

"What are they watching for?"

"A brain, to try to determine why you are so bent on commencing an adulterous affair on the eve of commencing divorce proceedings."

"In that case return to your office and start my divorce process darling; I'd hate to shame you. It's happening because out there in those dark waters last night Greer and I began to bond and I think it's bigger than lust."

"Wow darling, make sure you tell Greer that when you see her again. She flew out at 8:00 this morning to Dunedin to visit her parents. She hasn't seem them since they were in London thirty-two months ago."

"Thirty-two months -- that rather precise."

"Greer is a writer and a competition glider pilot. She has trained herself to be precise. They say opposites attract."

She left giving him one of her fat wet kisses men liked. Sebastian turned over and went to sleep but in the way of hospitals was shaken awake seven minutes later and told to take a shower wearing a shower cap. A shy student nurse with a featureless face, the look of terror in lieu of a smile and no apparent breast development on her skinny albeit body in a sack-like uniform, was assigned to supervise him in the shower.

"Just turn your back sweetie. If I feel I'm going to fall I'll call you in plenty of time to catch me. Just let this be our little secret."

The student's relief was a joy to see.

* * *

The noise in the outer office alerted Wendy that Greer was back from the South Island. 

The receptionist and six general office personnel had prepared for this moment. When Greer entered and delivered a breezy 'Good morning everyone', everyone believing there is safety in numbers chorused, "Good morning Lady Gregory."

Greer bared her teeth but converted that into a smile. "You cunning assholes."

That produced a howls of laughter.

Wendy said to her client, "Please excuse me Mrs Knightsbridge. My dear friend has arrived."

"Certainly," the elderly woman sniffed. "I take it you friend means more to you than an important fee-paying client?"

Wendy thought furiously and smiled. "Her name is Greer Gregory. You may have read..."

"Good god girl, why didn't you say so? She's connected with the British peerage. My cousin's friend who is a high-performing singer was once presented to the Queen in the Royal Albert Hall."

Wendy replied she would invite Greer in. "Perhaps she might help to break the deadlock between adviser and client over re-investment issues."

The introductions were made and Greer was briefed. While coffee was being poured Greer asked Mrs Knightsbridge was she fit and did she walk long distances.

"Yes, fit and I walk two miles a day with ease."

"And how many grandchildren do you have?"

"My son and daughter have seven between them but I fail to see the relevancy of this questioning."

"Then why don't you keep $25,000 aside and reinvest the other $388,700 as Mrs Bishop has wisely recommended."

"Very well Lady Gregory. So how do I spend that other money, order a tomb?"

"No Mrs Knightsbridge. You negotiate with your two children, suggesting the two families accompany you at your expense to Cairns in northern Queensland for the July school holidays, when it will be cold here. The excitement of seeing crocodiles in their natural habitat, visiting bird sanctuaries and you floating in a glass-bottom boat watching them below snorkelling and viewing the wonders of the Great Barrier Reef will remain as some of your fondest-ever memories and they will know it was grandma who made it all possible."

Mrs Knightsbridge frowned. "But both families went there last summer?"

Undeterred, Greer said, "In that case leave $40,000 aside and take everyone to New York."

Mrs Knightsbridge's semi-cataract-clouded eyes did their best to shine. "New York, city of my dreams; oh yes. What a wonderful suggestion Lady..."

"Please call me Greer Mrs Knightsbridge."

"Yes Greer, a wonderful suggestion. Please reinvest as you have suggested Mrs Bishop but leave aside $40,000 from that capital in a travel fund I want you to keep as a trust account, paying interest of course." 




A Very, Very Naughty Girl



Greer left the other two women completing business and headed home feeling a little disappointed that Sebastian hadn't called to thank her for her rescue and salvage efforts. Well he would when they were face-to-face again, she philosophised. 

Her phone went.

Sebbie?

"Hi babe, it's Jimmy, your friendly ranger. I called in but you weren't at home. There are four largish cartons on your front porch, with a courier docket. So I went over and asked Annie Fabish if she knew where you kept a spare key and to help me take the cartons inside."

"Thanks. Was she suspicious?"

"That would be unlikely. I told her I was passing and noticed the cartons left on the porch so being a vigilant and proactive ranger I did the decent thing."

"Little wonder you can commit adultery being able to lie like that. How may I reward you?"

There was a pause long enough, Greer fantasized, for Jimmy to scratch his balls and then think about how he could be rewarded. She lured him on, "I'm feeling horny and am just leaving town. Want to meet at Shepherd's Bush -- I have a rug with me?"

"Yeah, great idea. Josephine rejected my suggestion to invite you to dinner saying you were too high and mighty for the likes of us."

"Did you say she was misguided, that you'd recently had your erection up me as far as it would go?" 

"Greer!" Jimmy choked.

She laughed and said she'd see him in about ten minutes.

Greer pulled up behind Jimmy Applefield's vehicle. The couple kissed sexily, circling tongues, and walked a little way in with Jimmy carrying the rug before they turned off and negotiated thick undergrowth for not even twenty yards before finding one of the little clearings in that park that lovers had used over generations.

"Get them off Jimmy," she smiled. Greer only had to remove her sundress and underwear and kick off her sandals while Jimmy had to unbutton his park ranger shirt, remove the required white t-shirt, unlaced his boots, remove thick socks followed by pants and underpants.

"It looks fine Jimmy, long and strong," Greer encouraged, already on her knees waiting.

Grinning in pride, Jimmy pushed it into her open mouth and rolled his eyes in pleasure as Greer gobbled it skilfully, removing it a couple of times to lick the length including waggling her tongue around his hairy testicles. When he began to pant Greer pulled away and lay on her back.

"My turn."

"Christ Greer, you are a detectable fuck," he said, "Clean, fresh and shaven and yet it's well past your shower this morning."

"God, what do you get at home?" But to her relief, as she'd not meant to say that aloud, Greer heard only a garbled reply as Jimmy, tongue hanging out and curled in a half-circle attacked her very wet pussy.

Jimmy got her away with relative ease. Well she had said she was horny. She climbed on to her hands and knees, guided him into the right orifice and he was away, plunging into her with a beautifully slow rhythm that had her groan in appreciation each time he bottomed out. When she knew by his noises he was preparing to come she reached under and squeezed his balls and yelled, "Go tiger!"

"I'll drown you, you hot bitch!" he roared, pumping into her. Greer was used to men acting as if they actually pumped a pint of come instead of one or perhaps two teaspoonfuls.

After they rested Jimmy suggested he better go home with fuel in the tank. Back at the vehicles Greer handed him a dispenser of water-soluble lube.

"It's for your bedside cabinet top."

"Cor thanks Greer. It looks expensive."

"You're worth it. The truth is Jimmy I think I've met someone who appears interested and if it happens it could become long-term."

"That's okay," Jimmy said gallantly. "Two great flings with you were worth a dozen mediocre ones at home."

"Listen to me Jimmy. Work on Jo, gently and let her see kindness and real affection. No woman wants to feel she's kept just to be a handy fuck bag. No matter what you think of your relationship, what matters as far as Josephine is concerned is how she sees things and how she thinks. Take her flowers occasionally and perhaps when dining one Friday night you say, 'What say we have a candlelight dinner tomorrow night -- late after the kids have settled?' And pick good moments to just say good things to her, supportive things."

"Like what?"

"Like you think she doing great things with the kids, making them into real family members." 

"But Tom is a little shit."

"Ignore that. You have to sound sincere and feel you are sincere otherwise none of those things will count; it will be just a waste of breath."

"You're doing great with the kids Jo. I see a real family shaping up because of your excellent mothering."

"Jimmy that was just wonderful. You have no idea yet what that will be to her, but when she realizes it's not just a flash in the pan she'll tell you."

"God Greer, you're brilliant."

Driving home Greer thought initially what a slut she'd been tempting Jimmy to commit adultery again. It could unsettle him to re-establish through new experience that fucking a woman didn't have to feel no more exciting that feeling like fucking a pillow. But then the guilt eased when thinking she'd told him they were finished and then brightened when thinking of him possibly making a determined effort to act like a real husband and companion to his wife who perhaps had been thinking she was locked in to a loveless marriage. It wouldn't require much imagination to see a half-drunk Josephine with tenderness in her eyes sitting without panties on over Jimmy's lap. Despite being only halfway through their candlelight dinner she would be urging, 'Slide it into me big boy after lubing up; the dispenser is between the salt and pepper'.

Greer stared at the cartons. Initially she thought they might have been delivered to the wrong address, but checking found her name and address was written on the carton and also on the delivery docket. Ah perhaps it was copies of the new book from her publisher, but three times the usual number from those skinflints. Unlikely and anyway they used their own cartons. Why would anyone send her something in a new-like cartons marked Sony music centre?

The penny dropped. It WAS a new music centre!

She loved it. The unsigned card read, 'A small token for saving my life.'

Greer called Annie and Gavin over for a drink and asked Gavin to help her unpack the cartons and get the music centre going. Greer played the test disk in the CD and they all agreed it sounded marvellous.

Annie picked up the note, read it and smiled.

After Annie and Gavin left she called Wendy.

"Ah Greer. Has it arrived?"

"Yes and its beautiful with awesome sound. Sebbie hasn't called me since the night of his jet-ski accident."

"Did he suggest you call him Sebbie?"

"No, out in the water I just began calling him that shortly after we introduced ourselves. He told me it was your pet name for him but didn't tell me to desist."

"Ohmigod, he told me it had started."

"What has started?"

Wendy said er it didn't matter.

"Where is he?"

"He wanted you to receive the gift before he called you but this morning went to Sydney urgently to advise the wife of an influential client who had been arrested on a shoplifting charge."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a lawyer."

There was silence until Wendy said, "Ohmigod, you didn't know that. Then what the hell did you two talk about before the dinghy arrived?"

"Well we exchanged cross words about not being able to see one another we knew we were close..."

"Ohmigod."

"And after exchanging names I was told you were attempting to match us up over dinner to go on a date. Then there was talk about sharks..."

"Oh god."

"And then I worked to calm him, telling him how I though a boat would be launched and someone would have a spotlight and how they would use it to arrive at our last known position observed in daylight. Annie and her team arrived and you know the rest."

"God Greer, you were heroic and I can't understand why you are gun-shy over taking credit for it?"

"Because if I'm to become a celebrity in my own country I want it to be because of the popularity of my novels. I may have saved Sebbie's life by talking to him to encourage him to remain conscious but he's probably a tough coot and it may have worked out okay without me being there until the boat arrived. Who knows and who cares? The thing is Sebbie got back to shore alive. How's baby?"

"Fine and kicking a little, but does that mean discussion on the rescue has ended?"

"Yes."

"God you can be as dense as a man."

"Thanks darling; I guess that was a compliment?"

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. On the other hand, you were brilliant with Mrs Knightsbridge earlier today. She was becoming such a pain. Thank you darling."

"No problem. Please give me Sebbie's phone number and I'll call him."

"Talk sweetly to him darling because he's told me it's begun to happen between you two. Now this is confidential darling. Sebbie is married without children but it's an unhappy marriage and divorce proceedings are underway. It's a two-year-plus process. There's nothing to stop you two have sex or even living together if that's what you two decide."

"Ohmigod and yes my lips are sealed."

"Excellent now this is really, really confidential. Peter, Sebbie and I conducted a study to appraise legal services in this town and found the number of lawyers in our town district is well below the national medium of lawyers per head of population. We also found the District Council quick to confirm that the net population gain of in this area is positive, 11% above the national medium and it was only 4% above that line three years ago. So a month ago, just before your return here, Peter and I agreed with Sebbie's request to expand our business and take him in as a partner, with Sebbie providing full general legal services. That agreement was signed and he has another three weeks before he completes his commitments to his existing partnership practice."

"Well, well. That makes the possibility of a romance developing between Sebbie and me happening on even firmer ground. Now this is confidential: If he wants to live in town that would be fine by me. I could go out to the beach just to write or rest in the dunes thinking and being warmed by the sun."

"It will work, I know it will. Sebbie has never met a woman like you."

"Hush darling and I plead please butt out. We'll have to leave him to make his own decisions about romancing me but at least I can make the possibility very attractive to him and you could help by arranging double dating. Once I have him between my legs he's mine, I'm 90% convinced about that."

They giggled and Wendy handed across Sebastian's business card.

CHAPTER 4

As arranged during their transtasman telephone call, Greer went to Auckland the next morning to meet Sebastian for lunch shortly after his 3-hour return flight from Sydney. That evening they'd go to dinner and a concert. 

Greer had arranged through the producer who'd contacted her about a beach interview to be interviewed early that evening in an 8-minute slot at 6:20 during the hour-long national TV1 news programme, knowing such an appearance could stimulate her book sales in New Zealand. She'd stay with a married cousin who'd take Greer shopping at some of the malls and designer-label 'outlet' shops. The author was in a high state of expectation as she entered the restaurant to wait for Sebastian, hoping for an exciting twenty-four hours.

Sebastian entered a few minutes later, looking tall, dark and handsome, just like romance authors think while these days invariably describing in such simplistic terms, she thought, standing and waving. Over he charged. 

She thought naughtily should they or shouldn't they? And of course they made do with a kiss, rather a long one but it was not a lover's kiss, she sighed to herself... more like a thank you kiss from a guy whose life she may have well saved. Still it was better than a handshake.

They sat and began taking simultaneously. They both stopped and laughed and then immediately repeated that performance. This time he grinned and said 'Ladies first' and to her horror Greer heard herself say inanely, "How was your trip?" Christ, had romance died? He replied politely but by then she'd taken control of herself and said, "I'm so pleased to see you again. I really want to be your friend Sebbie."

Following that very revealing conversation with Wendy, Greer had decided Sebastian was not the kind of guy to throw herself against wantonly. He was living by professional standards and knew he remained married to a bitch of a wife; he wouldn't be focused 60% of his time on his cock, as did guys like Jimmy. At least that's what she'd thought and if she was wrong no harm done; he'd just think she was standoffish and would have to be won over by determined wooing. That was far preferable for him thinking she was totally focused on being fucked. What man would want a woman like that? She'd smiled believing she knew the answer to that question.

Their conversion was lively and friendly. She'd always remember that, Greer thought, if this occasion was the next step in something that would culminate in a magnificent obsession as bygone romance writers termed it all very well. But something a little short of that would be more practical to live with. He arranged to call at her cousins' home for her at 7:45 that evening and was told to be watching TV1 news a 6:20 when she was expected to appear in an interview.

"You are in a celebrity in the making," he smiled.

"What?"

"Wendy says that's what Annie and she thinks so too."

Greer cringed, thinking what a flawed character she was, having in mind of being in a public park with Jimmy and acting like a slut. Good grief, little wonder she'd put to the side her rightful claim to being called a lady.

She almost whimpered, replying to him, "If that means being elevated in popularity as an author I'm all for it."

"The public expects its real heroines to be more than very creative at the keyboard. I suggest you think about that?"

"Has Wendy been talking to you about this?"

Sebastian's face colouring told Greer the answer before he confirmed and added Wendy wanted Greer to be the best she could possibly be. I'd like you to think about that, I really do."

"I'm something of a flawed character."

"Ah, that probably explains your erratic behaviour, described by Wendy as your tendency to duck for cover to avoid being in the limelight."

"I had my reasons."

Glancing at his watch Sebastian said he could understand that. "I must go as a client will be waiting for me."

Outside Sebastian kissed Greer, said he'd had a lovely time talking and looked forward to the concert and late dinner this evening. He hurried off and Greer went to get her hair done.

Greer said to the hairdresser, "If you were a public figure and had done some naughty things would you confess publicly?"

"Hell no; public lives and private lives must be kept separate. What naughty things have you been doing luv?"

Greer described her two adulterous outings with Jimmy, making sure his identity and occupation remained her secret.

"God, nothing like that ever happens to me."

Greer said a little wearily, "For things to happen Gloria you have to make them happen."

"God with my breasts hanging like they do now no guy would want to look at me; my husband hasn't noticed the slump over the years so accepts them like this when I'm out of my bra." 

"There are guys out there Gloria who just love to bang a woman with what they call heavy hangers being held around their ears."

Gloria's shrieking laughter brought all over conversations in the hair salon to a halt and she was asked to share the joke, but refused. When conversations around them were back to normal Greer said with an air of responsibility, "My advice Gloria is not to venture beyond your comfort zone unless you feel confident you can deal with the risks and perhaps unpleasant outcomes."

* * *

Sebastian sat with his father Seth drinking beer and his mother Lily had a Bloody Mary in her hand. Following an explosive marital bust-up Sebastian was living with his parents. He returned to turn up the sound of the TV and said quietly, "Get ready to meet your new daughter."

"Is this the woman who saved you from drowning or near drowning?"

"Yes mum."

"I don't want you heading recklessly into an affair you'll regret. You are probably experiencing some kind of worship syndrome because she came to you in your darkest hour in the sea."

"Wait until you see and hear her before making judgement mum."

"Yeah Lily, give the boy a break."

Wordlessly they watched the ads roll and then the news reader said, 'We now cross to Studio B for the interview of a homecoming Kiwi who is making quite a name for herself."

Good evening New Zealand, this is Karen Wilson. With me is noted international romance writer Greer Gregory whom only recently it was learned is a New Zealander. Greer was born and raised at Wainui, the largest town on the east coast between Whitianga and Tauranga.

Karen: Welcome home Greer. Why did you choose to hide your nationality when you went to England on a three-year writing scholarship?

Greer: Hi Karen, lovely dress.

Sebastian knew Greer was dressed in black with her hair done up like that because she was ready to go with him to classical guitarist Julius Bachelor's concert. His mum said "Ohmigod she's beautiful" and Seth told her to be quiet and listen.

Greer: My only reason was to try to build my reputation internationally as an author and I believed I could achieve that best without the tag of New Zealander. But now that I'm back home writing I've sent an updated CV to my publishers and the piece about me on the dust cover will identify me as being a New Zealander from my next book on."

Karen: Is your new novel set in New Zealand?

Greer: Yes, it's set on Wainui Beach in 1863."

Karen::Oh how romantic. It's a romance between a young Maori warrior and a female British aristocrat married to an older man.

Greer: As I told you before coming on air that's all I can reveal until the book is being marketed.

Karen (looking slightly rattled): And what made you return home and attempt to fade into your background until you made that unfortunate decision to be interviewed by your town's East Coast News? Was it because of your husband's tragic death in a work-related accident?

Greer: Partly because of Archer's death. He was co-owner of a small inter-city airline in England and was supervising the replacement of an engine in his aircraft when the rigging above him collapsed and the heavy engine crushed him. But it was also because of something as equally crushing for me?

Karen (leaning forward): Go on -- we do have a bleep button.

Greer: Nothing has ever been published about this but I think I'll never be free of the load it has placed on me until I confess. I believe this is the opportunity to unload publicly and reveal the type of woman I am and by that I mean flawed."

Karen: Go on.

Greer: Like any young over-sexed woman I just had to have the occasional man and this continued even after my marriage. I'd grown up been a naughty child and never seemed to grow out of it. If you can believe this I became addicted to affairs and I'm absolutely sure of this that it grew me as a writer. My second conquest in England, a Scot, married me.

Karen: That was the Earl of Rymer, Archer Gregory.

Greer: You are well-informed. Well three months ago I began seeing someone, an older married man who became addicted to me. We'd met at a cocktail party. Then four night's after my husband's death, two men accosted me as I was about to enter my apartment. They said who they were and took me to a place I was able to identify easily and I met some serious-faced men. I was informed that my liaison with Mr X, a married man, could bring down the Government.




A Very, Very Naughty Girl



Karen (showing signs of panic clutched her audio ear-plug and nodded): P-please continue Greer. We are giving you more time. Please remember this is a live interview. 

Lily was clutching between her breasts and panted "Ohmigod." Sebastian ducked out and grabbed two more beers and handed one to his father with a big cheesy grin. Seth managed a pale imitation of a hearty return grin. In the town of Wainui or Wainui-by-the-sea as it had been called until 1921, many townspeople and folk in the hinterland were watching the interview, including Peter and Wendy. During that brief slowdown in tempo of the interview Wendy shuffled forward on her butt to get closer to the big screen muttering, "Ohmigod, ohmigod -- she won't be famous, she'll be fucking infamous."

Karen asked Greer was she okay. Greer was patting her brow with her handkerchief.

Greer: Yes but I'm sweating. I didn't realize publicly confessing being a bad girl could be so gruelling. Perhaps that's why authors who have flamboyant sexual experiences write flamboyantly about sex.

Karen: But hopefully crime writers don't murder to be injected with realism?

Greer: I love it Karen, a great comment. The truth is one can only go so far down that road to realism.

Karen: About these guys, who were from the M15 I guess, and your meeting with top brass at Whitehall?

Greer: Er those are your assumptions Karen; I've given no such information. Well the upshot was I was offered twenty-five thousand pounds to leave the country and not to return for two years as by then, according to poll trends, there would have been a change of Government.

Karen (confidently): You told them heroically to stick um to keep their money and you were led off to prison?

Greer: No Karen. My whole instinct told me to do that but I remembered my mum's last words before I left New Zealand. 'Greer darling, when in England do nothing to disgrace yourself, your family and your country.' I refused the money, signed papers tied to the Official Secret Act binding me to non-disclosure and was granted five days to leave the country. I tied up my affairs, er my financial affairs, and left with hours to spare, flying home on Air New Zealand."

Karen: Oh you heroine.

Greer: Don't be silly Karen. I slunk home with my tail between my legs knowing I'd been very, very naughty. If you people wish to verify what I have told you here is the card of a Mr Blakely at the Home Office who will simply tell you I was unfortunately involved with someone of significance within the Government and in the interests of national political stability I was invited to leave the UK.

Karen: Invited?

Greer: Yes. After I refused to accept the money the attitude of the officials changed and I was given coffee and told they would bend the rules and allow me to call me solicitor before I signed the papers. But I said no coffee, no solicitor but could I please have a stiff whisky and while waiting for that I was filmed signing the papers that were witnessed by high-ranking officials.

Karen: Don't you feel by talking to me about being such a bad, bad girl you may have violated the agreement and will be extradited to England to be tried in court in secret and jailed?" 

Greer: No, I don't think so. I have said just enough to show two important branches of the British Government's public service in very good light and they will be pleased with me. However, put that question to Mr Blakely when you contact him. Oh, he told me all enquiries must be put in writing. I assume an email will meet that requirement with an electronic copy of a scanned genuine signature. Now, what about discussing any of my thirteen published novels? 

Karen: Sorry but we're already running late with the 6:30 weather report. Thank you very much hugely popular novelist Greer Gregory who has just giving viewers a brief description of the life of a very, very naughty New Zealand girl loose in England.

The female of the duo of newsreaders came on-camera and smiled, "Well I had three years living in London during my OE (overseas experience) and have to say my affairs with guys were far too ordinary. Way to go Greer. Now with apologies for lateness here is Wanda with our weather report."

Greer was accosted by a New Zealand reporter as she left the studio and taken in a taxi to the newspaper to be interviewed.

* * *

Sebastian arrived by taxi to take Greer to the Aotea Centre for the concert. He kissed and squeezed her gently and smiled saying, "Are you okay?"

"Yes thanks. Three whiskies have helped. I feel so relieved. People can now take me for what they think of me rather than having some notion I'm pedestal material. You know I won't mind if we skip the concert. Some people there will have seen the interview. Being seen with me could be crushing on your reputation."

"Greer, for goodness sake. You are now a double heroine to me. I was beside myself in pride as I listened to you. Don't you see -- most Kiwis will love you for telling them how it is with you. In a freakish way I feel you have given a confession that is turning you into an honourable icon."

"Oh Sebbie, how sweet and how utterly preposterous of you. After my TV appearance the NZ Herald snaffled me and interviewed me extensively. I handed them a copy of a photo of Archer and me outside the cathedral after our marriage to prove at least that part of my claims was truthful. They asked could they publish it and I said yes and then the assistant editor said my account of being hauled in by officialdom and grilled and being pressured to sign no-disclosure undertakings was credible because he was aware of two other New Zealanders who'd been put through that process. I said I'm an experienced researcher and could have made that up."

"Heavens, what did he say to that."

"He said if it lied and make false claims like that then when exposed I'd really wreck my reputation."

As they entered the taxi Sebastian said, "You can forget the word 'wrecked'. Today you created the bones of a wonderful reputation and it's up to you to build on it."

They entered the Aotea Centre and people everywhere were smiling at Greer and when Sebastian went off to get her a gin and tonic women crowded around her, chattering enthusiastically. World spread and soon everything holding a gin, beer or sparking wine -- perhaps all three -- were aware there was a celebrity in the room as word that "Lady Greer Gregory is here" swept through the room. At one stage a guy in a tux came up to Greer and said pompously, "Ma'am management invites you and partner to follow me and occupy one of our VIP boxes and receive complimentary canapés and champagne."

"No thank you kind man," Greer said, in a cultured English accent with perhaps just the slightest Scottish burr. Sebastian, suppressing laughter, walked Greer proudly into the auditorium.

In the cab outside the cousin's home Sebastian kissed and cupped a breast softly, quite unlike the possessive manner most men do, the real jerks even attempting to ping a nipple with a thumb, not realizing women regard such behaviour as contemptible unless they hoped to be fucked.

As Sebastian pulled away Greer, aware of pledging to herself to take it slowly with him, murmured sexily, "Oh Sebbie, just one more of those please."

The kiss was delivered without the little grope but she couldn't complain; the second kiss lasted longer. He stepped out and said, "Oh, I almost forgot. Peter and Wendy have invited us to dinner on Thursday with an invitation to stay. I will be taking Friday off to work on something."

"You mean to say Wendy has invited us to dinner."

"Well yes but it was polite to include Peter."

"Oh how charming, I love it and must work that into one of my novels. Thank you, I've had such a wonderful evening and apologize for my notoriety drawing people to us all night."

"No problem, I enjoyed watching you with the bit between your teeth. You appear to be inspired to rise higher in manner, tone and the depth of what you say when surrounded by people interested in you."

"That happens to be true. You are very observant and analytical."

"Wow and good night you awesome lady."

The taxi whisked him away, leaving Greer with a slightly down turned mouth.

Awesome? 

Lady?

Those complimentary words were expressed genuinely with his grey eyes locked on her violet ones that were arresting since she'd had her hair dyed silver. He liked her, perhaps more than liked her. She practically skipped along the path to the house.

* * * 

Cousin Kate pulled open the bedroom curtains in the morning, allowing sun to stream in.

"Oh hi Kate. I had a wonderful evening thank you."

"Dah, dee, diddely-dee," Kate sang tunelessly and held up the front page of that morning's Herald.

"Ohmigod," Greer gasped. Under the lead story about the 30331st report of carnage in the Middle East was a big, bold heading, 'I've Been a Very, Very Naughty Girl.' 

Greer was handed the newspaper and told breakfast could wait. She read the lead story that was based on her interview but incorporated the naught girl bit from the TV interview. It was fair enough although making her out to be a complete slut with edges of guilt showing through. Perhaps she could hide down in Antarctica. Then she thought what which those horny guys cooped up down there on research or servicing and then grinned -- perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

The story continued over on to page 3. Beneath the picture of her wedding were five of the worst possible newspaper reports, obviously sourced from Britain overnight, of her outrageous exploits that made it to print, exaggerated of course. She cringed re-reading the account of her opening her shirt and untying the front bow on her cute French bra when speaking to the Press Club that her rival novelist Deb Coleman had been a lying bitch alleging the only exercising Greer did was attempting to push up her tits when walking to stop them banging against her abdomen. Greer was reported as cooing and saying, "I'll now prove that lie" and pulled her bra open. 

The report stated: 'Never in the history of the club used to being addressed by some of the world's greatest boring farts, including presidents of countries, had so many members fell out of their seats amid uncontrollable laughter. She was a ring-in as speaker when the Irish President was a no-show as all Irish airports were closed by fog. Greer walked accidentally into a closed door as she left, turning to wave in acknowledgement of the prolonged standing ovation. Either it was an accident or she was pissed'.

Greer really cringed she saw the photo of her and Deb Coleman caught at a Literary Awards Dinner having a hair-pulling fight while soup was being served. 'Security guards had to pull them apart,' the newspaper report stated. "Lady Gregory was hurling abuse at her tormenter. The choicest bit, and we quote, was, 'That f......defaming slut with tits the size of toenails is a jealous, lying foul-mouth bitch who is probably going through a change of sex crisis. Both ladies during went on-stage to receive their awards, apparently the 5th for Deb, the 14th for Lady Gregory.'

Oh god, perhaps readers will think that is some other Lady Gregory, Greer thought desperately. She read on and with satisfaction read a bold panel headed Conformation. It stated: 'Just before midnight the Herald received as statement from Whitehall in London in response to our urgent inquiries seeking confirmation to Greer Gregory's claim on TV last night that she'd been thrown out of Britain, muzzled and told not to return for two years. The official announcement reads: In the interest of political stability in the UK all we can say is Lady Greer Gregory who calls herself Greer Gregory, author, was involved in a matter of State of unspeakable concern and with official assistance cooperated fully to leave the country after signing documents guaranteeing non-disclosure of relevant facts pertaining to her involvement in this unspeakable concern. It is confirmed Lady Greer Gregory refused an offer of compensation in return for her two-year period in exile'."

"Oh here I am coming up smelling of roses. The problem is will anyone read this boring little panel."

Over breakfast Greer took a call from Sebastian. "The Herald spread on you was great."

"Oh good. Did you read the panel headed Confirmation?"

"Oh no, I knew people would jump over that; it looked boring."

"Damn."

"Nah, just kidding. I read about Whitehall confirming you going into exile. You are going shopping with Kate today, right?"

"Yes and returning home after lunch."

"I suggest you wear a wig and Kate's gardening clothes."

"No I'm now feeling a little prouder of myself. If I'm abused in shops then so be it."

* * *

Returning home, wearing the same black dress she'd worn on TV, Greer called in at the newspaper and handed Kitty the statement and Kitty called Jake to take her photo. 

Next morning Annie let herself in and handed Greer the EC News. "I think this will gather you more kudos than even optimistic you expects. Wording under the double column photo on page three read:

 Hi everyone. This is a personal statement. To the people of Wainui and environs I offer no apologies for my errant and at times irresponsible behaviour. If you can understand this, I am what I am and should make no apologies for that. In Britain I attempted to achieve balance and have distributed almost $1.13 million in NZ currency to various charities from my writing income and income from personal investments. But of course the national dailies in the UK do not report that side of my multi-facet character; they love me for my bad, bad girl image and I admit I enjoyed playing up for them.

The truth is I love being a bad, bad girl at times. But after my confession on TV1 on Tuesday evening I intend to toning down, just a bit.

I have become a wealthy woman, partly through grinding day after day at writing, hour upon hour of [F-word deleted] mostly boring research and because I believe I have years left in me to continue that slog. 

Please think about this: if you live as an ordinary person your life will be that of an ordinary person. I accept many people want nothing but that while a few have broken out to succeed or fail at bigger things and many others wish they had the guts to do it.

Well whatever. My immediate prospects look very good and my new novel set in the early days of European settlement in this district is going well. Perhaps the big news for you is I am in the process of selling the garden penthouse apartment my late husband and I purchased and it almost crippled us meeting loan repayment costs but we did it and is valued at several million pounds. For no other reason than I like sport and big shows and want to leave more behind that a heap of novels and an undesirable reputation. I will remit those proceeds back here and with the cooperation the District Council and civic leaders will donate those proceeds on building a events dome somewhere in the town on publicly-held land. Announcements will be made in due course. I love been back home.

Greer Gregory

Or if you wish Lady Greer Gregory.

Or if you wish, your friend the bad, bad, girl and author.

"Well, it's what I wrote except Editor Black deleted the word fucking."

"Yes dear, well done dear. Have your breakfast and then back. I'll load my stuff into the Defender."

"Oh goodie, where are we going Annie?"

"We are going bush for eight days. I'11 tell you once we are well on our way. We are leaving our phones at home and will not be using credit cards so that ought to mean we have really disappeared."

"But why, why are we doing this?"

"Because hordes of British media people will be on aircraft coming to New Zealand to find you to unlock what they'll believe is the biggest British political scandal of this decade."

"Oh Christ, how could I be so dumb? You are brilliant Annie. I need to call Sebbie to say goodbye."

"Why are you fucking him?"

"I wish, but it's floating along nicely. I'll call and say goodbye to Wendy. Will we get TV where we're going?"

"Yes but reception is not great. There are heaps of DVDs and CDs there, most guys stuff."

"Oh a hunting lodge," Greer whispered and Annie smiled. Greer said, "Okay, okay we'll take a three-week hire in town on a box of girlie DVDs." 

Annie gaped. "I can't believe that woman in the Video/DVD shop gave you all these current DVDs without charge for two weeks?"

"She's Valerie Stiles who was an excellent hurdler in her youth and coaches these days. She read the EC News about the events dome."

"Ah, as did Max at the supermarket and Leon at the butchery who even supplied the chilly-bin to cool the meat he gave us. Is the chilly bin switched on?"

"Yes," Annie said. 

"I can't believe Wendy crying all over me like that as if I were going to war. Do you think she'd turning gay?"

"God Greer, give the poor girl a break. She'd pregnant and her hormones rage at times." Annie said British media might stake out Greer's house for longer than a week.

"Yeah but the bulk of those sensation-seekers will have upped and returned home by then. Butcher Leon Cole has a couple of hunting dogs, real mean bastards. I'll borrow one to keep by me. Media people know they can't operate effectively with a hand missing."

Annie and Greer returned to Wainui eight days later. During the first three days there they'd been horrified to see on TV the British media outside their houses and in the car park sitting in out in camper vans. Beer, profanities, loud voices and badly sunburned bodies, some pale Brits requiring medical treatments for serious burns, were reported much to the delight of the NZ media covering the stake-out. 

Annie and Greer had been living in a comfortable and very remote hut with not even locals knowing they were there. A few hunters had passed by, stopping for a smoke and a chat over coffee and asking. "Are you ladies okay out here?"

"Yes although we are Sisters of the Planetary Church of Zeus we do have our rifles and a stun gun for protection," Annie would say, adopting an angelic smile that Greer was totally incapable of replicating. Annie would pull on earmuffs and the guys would rise and thank them for their hospitality and drift off, rather fast.

The two women arrived in town after dark and had coffee with Peter and Wendy. Wendy handed Greer her mobile phone as she was leaving and said, "The postponed diner with you and Sebastian is on tomorrow night Greer; will you be able to make it this time?" 

She nodded.

They called at the home of Leon Crane the butcher and he agreed to Greer having one of the dogs for a couple of weeks. "The meanest acting one, not the one that wants to rip my hand off." 

"Well in that case take Cleo the bitch. Just like women her bark is worse than her bite."

They arrived and parked at the side of Greer's house and as soon as Cleo stepped on to the front porch she bristled.

"Shit, a British media guy must be inside ratting the place looking for evidence of my unfortunate liaison with the... er with the."

"With the what?" Annie asked, leaning right over to here the hot-hot disclosure.

Greer unlocked the door, and holding Cleo on a tight chain switched on the light as Cleo sounded off a fearsome string of barks. Two guys who'd been sleep on the sofas jumped up, terrified, clutching their nuts.

"Who are you?" Greer demanded.

"Bill and Crispin," said the younger guy, partly hiding behind the larger guy. We are park rangers."

"What the fuck are you doing in my bach?"

"We have been sleeping her for eight, just as the British media began arriving and one guy or female ranger guards the house during the day. We're acting on the orders of deputy-chief park ranger Jimmy Applefield. We rangers foiled three attempted break-ins and one bitch from BBC radio actually forced a window and got in and woke us when she jammed her finger in a drawer and howled in pain. She appeared in court last Monday and was deported on Tuesday at midnight. When I gave evidence in court against her the bitch gave me the filthy one finger salute."