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Della Meets an Incredible Fella

By: Egmont Grigor



CHAPTER 1

Zane Maddox knew his publishing editor was getting her own back, the bitch. They'd had a couple of big rows because he was late sending in final chapters... 'Dragging his ball and chain,' she'd vented. 

Apparently no other author had been courageous enough to call her a 'Loopy New York lesbo gone loco'. She'd screamed back abuse, quite the most disgusting language he'd ever heard from a woman, making his curled nape hair straighten.

And that was the end of that conversation.

Zane knew McNeil -- Christ, what a first-name -- but he supposed Jones her surname wasn't a stand-out moniker, had arrived in Chicago to Innes-Rand Publishing from New York twelve years ago. He hadn't known she was a lesbian until he applied that tag when calling her loco. Actually he still didn't know if the tag was apt. It was her fault; she'd riled him. He'd been out with the boys for a couple of days -- actually three weeks shooting wild dogs on the fringe of the dessert heartland of Australia when he arrived back home in an alcoholic haze to find thirteen emails from Miss McN Jones instructing him to call her urgently.

Well he'd written for seventy hours with scarcely any sleep and sent off the final chapters of his latest novel set in Madrid with the working title 'Noon is Time to Die' that fucking Miss McN Jones was publishing as 'Dangerous Siestas'. Grudgingly he had to admit her title was perhaps a cut above his. 'A title pregnant with implicit suspense' McNeill had said in the email (they no longer spoke by phone) soliciting his approval as required in his contract. He'd asked himself how would a lesbo know about pregnancy? And then grinned, asking how would he have known anything about Madrid if it hadn't been for tourist guides, web sites and Google maps?

Ever since Zane had become an Innes-Rand Publishing top ten author he'd been called to Chicago for the launch of his novels and McNeil had thoughtfully organized him a bit of skirt for what she called 'his week in civilization'. Her term for Australia -- she'd once spent forty-eight hours in Sydney -- was 'prehistoric'. But she'd never fronted for him, always being away or the PR manager said she'd been too busy. But Zane had worked out what that meant: the bitch clearly didn't like him or what she knew about him through his writing and the promo guff.

The babe holding up the sign at O'Hare for 'Mr Maddox' was beautiful, in fact ball-cracking beautiful but he cringed, muttering you 'Bitch McNeil'. The babe's tits were little more than a handful, though admittedly he did have big hands. McNeil had shrieked in laughter that first time when she offered to supply him a date and he'd said the babe must have tits as big as melons. She got the message but hedged, saying melons come in different sizes and he'd replied so did big tits.

"Oh god, Mr Maddox," said the child recognizing him. Well his photo was on the back cover of his novels.

"Yes Miss," Zane said, exaggerating an Aussie drawl.

She fluttered her falsies (eyelash extensions) and puckered her lush lips as if expecting a kiss. But 40-year-old Zane Maddox with day day's stubble didn't kiss juveniles.

"I'm your companion for your week in our country."

"That's fine. Does your mom know you are not at high school?"

"My mom sent me."

Zane reeled in alarm. McNeil was setting him up to have illegal sex with a minor, her own daughter. This would not do!

"What's your name honey?"

"Delphi Jones but everyone apart from mom calls me Della and that's my preference."

"Mine too Della. May I ask without sounding like a rude Australian, how old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

"You can't be!"

"I assure you I am Mr Maddox. I have grown up with a baby face and believed I'd shed that hindrance but you appear anxious to revive the curse."

"Twenty-six? But that means, um..."

"Means what Mr Maddox?"

"Um it's not something I can discuss with a young lady."

Della gave Zane a gut-tearing grin and said, "Mr Maddox, my mother warned me your are a naughty man but she thought it was time I was exposed to you. Apparently you have this peculiar idea that my mother is a lesbian. Really Mr Maddox."

"No... er... well we had words on the phone, she accused me of dragging my ball and chain which is a sensitive term to use on Australians and I... well I lost it."

Della smiled and asked what had he called her mom. He replied his memory didn't stretch that far and she said her mom had played her the tape to illustrate exactly the type of man Mr Maddox was. "As I recall it, you ranted she was 'a loopy New York lesbo gone loco'."

"I... er... was under pressure."

"Aren't we all Mr Maddox? I had to be incredibly brave to accept this assignment."

An American with a bloated belly and looking as if he'd have bad breath pushed his way in between Zane and Della and said, "Hi doll, I'm Terry Maddox."

Della, still holding up the greeting notice, cringed and turned pale.

Zane turned the hulk around and smiled. "Say pal, beat it otherwise I'll punch that fat gut of yours out through your ass."

Zane's potential victim hurried off.

"You really shouldn't address people in that derogatory manner but I must admit it worked brilliantly," Della chided.

"Thanks sweetheart, er, Della. I didn't want to spill his blood in front of you."

"Mom did warn me you appear straight out of a cave."

"But added I'm a really nice guy at heart?"

"No, she made no redeeming comment at all. In fact she warned me not to be within a mile of you after dark."

"Jesus."

"Pardon me."

"It's an expressive term used affectionately..."

"But a term not to be used in front of a lady or anyone religiously sensitive which in some gatherings and in some countries could mean just about everyone?"

"I'm afraid I haven't thought globally like that."

"And you call yourself an author. Ha!"

"No, other people do and although your mom hates me she knows my books are a great joy to her publishing house."

"My mom calls you an asshole, but says it affectionately."

"She does?"

"Yes but I'll be obliged if you don't mention I let that one slip."

"Oh no, you can trust me Della."

"Oh really?"

They rode to the hotel in a cab. Della said cabs were the best way to commute downtown and anyway she was not the best of drivers.

"Do you understand the principles of driving?"

"Yes, of course."

"Many females have difficulty driving because their clothing is too tight."

"Well that cannot apply to me. I usually wear little more than a dress."

The cab lurched and Zane caught the driver's eye in the interior rear-vision mirror and they exchanged grins.

"Did you not hear me?"

"Oh yes, where were we? Ah, I was thinking if I could get you out in wide open spaces in a vehicle and you wearing only a dress I could check out your driving and put you right."

"Meaning?"

"Make you a better driver."

"My dad has a ranch. I'll give him a call. He'll fly in and pick us up. We could stay overnight. He's a big fan of yours."

"Really?"

"He enjoys the way your heroes put down women. Mom goes home at weekends and he reads out those passages to her and disgusting sex passages and she shrieks in laughter but he's first gotten her drunk. Otherwise she'd be throwing plates at him."

"Are you aware my heroes redeem themselves by the final chapter when showing they can love and respect a woman?"

"Yes, I read three of your books."

"You read my books?" Zane said.

"Yes, mainly for the filthy sex."

The cab lurched, almost hitting another cab alongside it.

"Then make it the weekend. Being with you guys as a family might help you mom and I to understand one another a little better. "

"Do you like hunting?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Can you hold your liquor?"

"Yeah."

"I won't ask you the other obvious thing. You and dad and his helper should get along okay."

"But you're not sure about your mom and me away from the office?"

"No."

Zane grinned and said perhaps he should seduce her mom and then McNeil would know he didn't think she was gay."

"Attempt that and my father will put a bullet up your ass."

Their cab lurched and lightly hit the cab traveling alongside it. Della tossed money at the cabbie and told him to open the trunk. They were out of there to escape the likelihood of being witness who'd testify against their driver. The other cabbie arrived and had their cabbie by the throat. Zane dropped his bags and then dropped the aggressive cabbie with a single punch behind the ear.

"Oh god, grab your bags and run, follow me," yelled Della, taking off.

They were only a hundred yards from the building housing the publishing company and made an elevator just as the doors were closing. Della pushed the button marked 22 and she leaned against the wall shaking, and muttered, "Well mother did warn me."

"You're shaking," Zane said, taking her into his arms. She turned her face up to reply and he, ignoring other people in the elevator, kissed her. She struggled. She relaxed. She kissed him back and someone said, "This is the twenty-second."

* * *

McNeil Jones looked startled as they burst into her office. Noticing her daughter's flushed face and heavy breathing, she spat, "What has he done to you?"

"Nothing. Our cabbie hit another cab not far from here. The other cabbie reached through the window and began throttling our cabbie so Mr Maddox felled him with a single stroke."

"Oh Christ. Did anyone photograph you guys?"

"I don't think so but one never knows with cell phone cameras."

McNeil reached down to her bottom drawer and straightened up and placed a .45 revolver in front of her. "Maddox, I'm warning you. Lay a finger on my daughter and I'll put a slug up your ass."

"Jones I'll have yet to decide if your daughter is worth taking a slug up the ass."

"Oh Christ," McNeil wailed. "Has the world gone mad? Delphi, I don't want you within a mile of this man."

"Sorry mom, he's coming home with us this weekend and I have arranged his itinerary for tomorrow."

"Well I forbid you to see him after dark."

"Okay mom providing something doesn't crop up."

"What kind of answer is that?"

Zane said, "It's the kind of answer daughters always use to confuse their moms."

"Shut up you," McNeil spat and moved to pick up the gun but Zane leaped, grabbed it just before she could and rolled over the desk to stand back on his feet. He calmly said to McNeil, "Promise me you'll behalf like a responsible adult."

"Christ," said Della, still in shock at the speed and agility of Zane's move.

McNeil nodded to Zane and he held the gun by the barrel of the uncocked revolver and she repossessed it, smiling grimly. "So all this unarmed combat shit you write about is not shit?"

"Possibly it is but I keep in training if only to embarrass a mother in front of her daughter."

"I bet," McNeil said, putting the gun away.

"You don't such a bad body for a babe your age and your color looks great when you're angry."

"Mom don't," Della yelled as her mom bent to reopen the bottom drawer. "I've been under his influence a little; my thinking right now is he may not be the jerk you think he is. It's possible he's trained to apply aggression when in tight corners."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter mom. I think he's okay."

"But he called me a loopy lesbo gone loco."

"Yes and you taped that. I'd like to listen to what came before that to provoke Mr Maddox."

"Don't you dare call him Mr Maddox. You are only doing that to provoke me."

"And you're diverting mother. I bet before he cut lose on you that you gave him a heap of foul language."

"I may have."

"In that case call off your restrictions on me associating with Zane."

"They're lifted but please keep your legs closed."

"Mother!"

"Ladies, could we please run through tomorrow's program and then I'll crash. I don't think you ought to try to sleep with me tonight Della as I could be a disappointment."

The two women stared at Zane Maddox, faces blank.

McNeil picked up her phone and quick dialed a number. "Hi sweetheart. Making good progress on drenching?"

"Good. Everything's fine here. We'll have an extra passenger on Friday, your favorite Australian author. Yes, that's the one. Your daughter is eyeing him like a heifer. It might be a good idea to give Rex work at the back of the ranch; I'd hate jealous Rex to kill our author who is a big money-spinner for this company. Bye darling. Yes I will."

McNeil said to Della, "Your father sends his love and says not to mess about with Mr Maddox unless you are serious."

"Why does he say that?"

"You know Rex thinks you're his girl."

"I've told him I'm not but he won't listen."

"Some men are like that darling. It's your fault for giving him a taste. Perhaps you should disappear."

Zane said something to rile McNeil. "Yeah, you could come back to Aussie with me."

"What, are you mad," McNeil screamed.

Della and Zane relaxed in their chairs to wait for McNeil to calm down.

* * *

As arranged Della called to pick up Zane at 6:00 for his first radio interview at 6:30 am. She stood uncertainly in the foyer but gave a big smiled when he grabbed and kissed her.

"I didn't think you'd be the type to shake hands," she giggled.

"You kiss beaut. I haven't had breakfast."

"I've ordered you coffee and bacon and cheese bagels at the first radio station. They allowed early morning celebrities to eat while being interviewed. They ask that you take small bites and quick swallows."

"Am I a celebrity?"

"The station's female PR certainly thinks so."

The two radio interviews went well as did the brief time on 'Good Morning America'. The interviews helped Della to learn a great deal about the guy under her charge. The man of mystery was turning into a well-etched character for her; perhaps the surprising findings were he possessed some charm and wit. Oh, he was one of those fellas who didn't allow women to get away with anything, unlike most guys a personal confession). 

At 12:30 Zane arrived to address the Innes-Rand International Book Club that really was a book club of Chicago females but a few males and even a female foreign visitors often turned up. 

The event had attracted a record attendance of 447. Della and Zane had arrived late because she'd taken him to be shaved and have his hair cut, explaining book club members were mainly conservative women who'd like their guest speaker to be 'clean, tidy and couth."

"Couth -- you mean refined?"

Della sighed and wiped his chin because he'd been eating a chili beans hamburger while having his hair trimmed under her direction. Zane had admired the young woman's style because when the Afro-American hairdresser complained, "You can't eat in here and not when I'm performing my expertise on your unruly hair," Della had said, "He's Australian" and the woman replied, "Oh, in that case it's okay."

Security brought out the book club president to meet them and when apologizing for lateness Della said creatively, "Your guest had a stomach upset; it must have been airline food." The elderly woman frowned and said, "Are you sure you two weren't having it off in a hotel room?"

That left Della wordless so Zane said grandly, "Ma'am please allow your suspicions to rest. Just say we were held up at a media conference."

"But that's not until 3:00," Della said and Madam President smiled triumphantly.

They were escorted into the hotel banquet room to taped music of the opening bars of 'Chariots of Fire' and Mrs Michaels made the introductions to great applause. She then said, "Della apologizes they had to stop somewhere for her to powder her nose. That took ninety minutes."

Mrs Michaels had to wait until a buzz of scandalized whispering went around the room in waves.

After Zane's brief address the first questioner wanted to know in detail what Author Maddox thought about women. 

"So, you wish to know why my heroines are inevitably beautiful, tall, big-breasted and aggressive," Zane began, and his audience leaned forward expectedly.

"Well it sure beats having a short-ass ugly bitch-wimp leading the charge," he smiled and after a second of horrified silence a beautiful, big-breasted woman near the back yelled, 'Yeah!' and almost everyone broke into laughter.

"It's not that I'm against plain flat-chest women with a personality deficiency per se, because I've been intimately close-up to a few in times of real need like when I toured China," Mike said. The audience mostly loved it and thereafter he played them like the quintessential 'compleat angler'.

Zane received a standing ovation and beaming Madam President said, "Wasn't Mr Maddox sensational? Although he's Australian he managed to so eloquently and expertly interface with us to bring us to his conclusive statement, left unsaid, that he draws the characters of his literary females to what he believes we wish to read about and damn right he's right." She then presented the guest speak with a mounted phial of water from Lake Michigan.

"Er, um thank you for this... for this..."

"Inspired memorabilia" Della whispered.

"... for this inspired piece of memorabilia I shall always treasure."

For that Zane received another standing ovation.

As Della sat on a street seat holding Zane's paper cup of coffee while he attacked a hot dog, she purred, "You were magnificent Mr Maddox."

"Thank you Miss Jones. You are missing culinary art in not having a hot dog from a street vendor in America."

"I prefer to have my food from trusted providers Mr Maddox."

"But can you really trust even the highest rated restaurant or all food obtained from a myriad of suppliers by your trusted deli Miss Jones?"

"Oh god, why do we have to eat?" Della moaned, turning quite pale. "As you can see, I'm neither tall and am without heavy hangers and lack the assertiveness you favor in women."

"Yes Miss Jones, but think of my change in preferences if it's only you nearby in my hour of need. You know, you are the first auburn-haired woman I've courted."

Flushing, Della was more than a little interested in that comment, aware it had been more than two weeks since she'd last had sex. She hooked in his arm as they walked off.

"Ah Miss Jones. You are warming to this fella, he thinks."

"We'll be in time for the media conference," she hastened to say.

After the media conference Della went to O'Hare with Zane to ensure he boarded the correct aircraft for his flight to New York to visit his married sister. He thanked her and walked off to the boarding area but looking back spotted her still standing in that spot, a lonely figure. He strode back (like heroes should) and taking Della into his arms kissed her soundly. She pressed into him and when he let her go she stood panting and wailed, "Oh god."

He grinned, kissed her cheek sweetly and went off, not looking back.

CHAPTER 2

Della waved and attracted Zane's attention as he arrived back in Chicago on Friday afternoon. They kissed and she knew she'd put everything into it. He looked at her rather curiously so she said, "I couldn't believe you'd call me both nights."

"I don't know many people in America."

"Well yes, I understand that but you had your sister and her American family."

"Yes, but in bed and feeling lonely I thought of you."

Blushing Della looked around and said, "We have time for coffee to take the bus connection to another airport. Dad is not allowed to land here."

Forty minutes later they had both kissed McNeil who then introduced Zane to Dan, the tall, wiry white-haired guy with incredible blue eyes standing beside her.

"She calls you the bastard from Australia and yet you kiss McNeil?"

"Yeah but only if I catch her by surprise."

Dan grinned. They went out to the twin-engine Cessna.

"Ah, one of the reasons American ranchers have trouble making big bucks off the land."


Della Meets an Incredible Fella



"You mean poor prices?"

"Well, that is a factor, but I mean gross over-capitalization."

"Now look here Aussie, if you're coming to America to criticize Americans..."

"Don't jerk yourself off Dan by being overly-sensitive. It's a valid point and I'd think you know it just as I know it's the American way. If you didn't want me to say things that interest you, why invite me to your ranch?"

"I didn't. McNeil pressed for it but it appears it was Della's idea. McNeil told me you are based on a family ranch."

"Yeah."

"How big is it?"

"Big enough."

Dan grinned and said obviously Zane wasn't a bragger from Texas. "McNeil and I have a thousand and twenty-eight acres."

"I'm not bragging. We farm in a semi-arid area where once a decade we have more cattle die than we actually sell when the drought runs into years. Our horse paddock is twenty-five acres."

"Jesus. Then how large is the ranch?"

"As I said, its semi-arid land. The family has 226,000 acres, give or take a few acres as the last survey was more than a hundred years ago. We probably have the same number of cattle as you do but we also run sheep."

"What sixty-nine breeding cows?"

"Er, perhaps we have a few times more than that number."

They flew southwest for around 150 miles and landed in Bureau County on a sealed strip and taxied up to a hangar. As soon as they were out and walking to the adjacent parking lot a guy in overalls arrived on a quad-bike to tow the airplane under cover. They drove slowly for fifteen minutes, the family pointing out features, and arrived at McN and D Ranch. 

Dan said, "It's sixty percent tillable and out the back on higher ground we have a stand of forest, brush and a lake where we shoot and fish. We grow feed grain and all the hay we need. We are self-sufficient but McNeil's salary subsidizes the operation, especially in poor years."

Zane looked at the huge two-level house and the two big barns not far away and sighed. Talk about over-investing in ranching. An Australia on a 1000-acre farm would have a modest house, a shed for machinery and vehicles and a row of dog kennels. That's all. 

The family had family business to discuss so Zane went for a walk and in one of the barns found a quad-bike so went out on it to look at the cattle. They were Limousins, a breed that originated in France. They looked in great shape.

Leaving them, Zane was crossing the next field when he saw a guy in a pickup cutting across the grass to intercept him. He stopped and the guy turned towards him and got out of the vehicle and holding a rifle, barrel pointing to the ground.

"What are you doing on our land and with our quad bike?"

"Sunning myself. It's a great day."

"Answer me."

Zane felt his temper rising and stepped off the quad, thinking this must be Rex. He looked muscular but also looked slow. "Now that's not being very neighborly."

The guy pointed the gun at Zane's midriff. "You could be a rustler or you could be stealing our quad."

"And if I denied both charges you'd believe me?"

The guy licked his lips, now a little less sure of himself. "Are you the city slicker who Della has been hosting?"

"She's a real honey isn't she? Bet she's glad she got away from this dump."

Zane watched the guy's neck redden. "I understand your possessiveness of Della is not appreciated by her or McNeil?"

"Shut your mouth Aussie or I'll shut it for you."

Zane figured the guy would accept a back down. "Sorry for riling you Rex. I can be such an idiot at times. Not only do you have the rifle but you're bigger than me."

"Well, I needed to know who you were. So Della and her mother spoke to you about me?"

"Yeah, to avoid trouble between us I suppose. I rather fancy Della and I believe she is responding but has remained a lady I hasten to say."

"She is a lady."

"Well that's one thing we agree on. Toss me the rifle Rex."

Rex hesitated and apparently decided the stranger would think he were a coward if he didn't. He tossed it and watched how easily it was caught and examined before being tossed back to him.

Zane said, "I thought it looked the new Winchester SXR autoloader. Dad has just acquired one. I now used his Browning Medallion 7 millimeter as I'd coveted it for years."

"You shoot?"

"Sounds like it."

"And you know something about ranching?"

"I took a degree in agriculture to improve farming practices on our family ranch but was overcome by writing so now write professionally."

"How much do you know about ranching?"

"A little, perhaps more than a little, but its hard work compared with writing. I still help out at busy times. I'm considered useful in keeping the wild dog population down -- they go after calves and sick cattle."

"How do you shoot them?"

"Ride them down on horseback and when close enough slide into a halt at right angles and shoot holding my left arm for support like this, using a scope."

"Dead easy."

"Oh yeah, with me breathing hard and the horse breathing hard and the critter racing off fifty to 100 meters away?"

"Oh yeah, not so easy. Let's toss the quad on to the back and come back with me. I'll take you hunting in the morning if you wish."

"I wish."

"You've got it pal."

The evening went well, with Rex showing no interest in Della beyond normal friendliness.

Over pre-dinner drinks they watched a tape of the previous evening's news. A three-minute section of Zane's media conference had McNeil sitting on the edge of her seat, eager to view it again. 

Question: Where do you get your ideas?

Zane: They appear resident in my head.

Question: Why is Australia popular with American tourists?"

Zane: It's easy to get there. You fly to LA, have a drink and your next pilot turns left upon flying out of LA and you're on your way until it's time to swing right into Sydney.

Question: Who's your favorite American author?

Zane: Joan Collins because despite the years and her hard grinds she still looks sexy. In my early teens I adored Hemmingway. Dad is a rancher and subscribes to the American Cattlemen's Magazine. I find good articles in that.

Question: How large is the family ranch?

Zane: It's pretty big but is mostly semi-desert. Our horse paddock covers twenty-five acres.

Question: What is your approach to writing a novel?

Zane: I look at my bank statement and say cripes, money's running out. I better get writing. I look at a map, pick a setting for it, think of a woman I don't like and figure of what could she do to improve her attractiveness to me and then I use that reconfigured woman as my heroine and write a list of the characteristics the hero would need to be compatible and yet slightly challenging for her.

Question: Your heroines are always big breasted?

Zane: Well you are not lacking. If you look back into the history of adventuresome female heroines I reckon you'll find most were big breasted. Personally I couldn't care less if they had none but I have my format to follow. I believe most modern readers of fiction expect the heroine to be big in breast and ego and with a rather trim butt. Oh, it's also a trend for young females today to have larger tits than their mother had at the same age - scientifically proven, I believe.

Question: Why are your heroes always tall?

Zane: Because my heroines are almost as tall. A mismatch could cause reader irritation.

Question: Why do you stick with Innes-Rand here in Chicago when much larger international publishers have publishing houses in Australia?

Zane. Simple. Innes-Rand was the only one of forty-eight publishers I approached with the script of my first novel, 'Clancy and Nancy'. It bombed and the title didn't help. But the publisher's new sexy commissioning editor from New York McNeil Jones sat down with me for more than four hours and ripped my maiden novel to bits. She then kissed me, patted me on the ass and said, 'Now go back home young man and write me a real novel'. Today McNeil is my publishing editor. Innes-Rand stuck with me so it's the right thing to do to stick with them now I'm famous.

Question: Are you famous as an author Mr Maddox?

Zane: Ma'am, would you be here asking that question if I weren't a top selling author? I reckon this new work, 'Dangerous Siestas' will make you pee your panties. McNeil has not told me she has doubts about the success of this novel so that's as good as saying to me I've written a best seller -- well after she'd polished it.

Question: Mrs McNeil Jones has a reputation for hating her authors. Is that true?

Zane: I have no knowledge of that. Actually I think McNeil secretly in love with me.

Question: How do you figure out that?

Zane: She rants and raves on the phone to me when I rile her. Isn't that obviously sexual tension?

Question: Why is it you are permitted to call her McNeil? All other authors are practically required to grovel and call her Miss Jones?

Zane: That's easy to answer. She gnashed those beautiful teeth of hers at me over that very thing saying how dare I call her McNeil and how dare I ignore her requests to stop calling her McNeil. But I gave her the answer that stymied her and the issue has never been raised since.

Question: What was that devastating reply?

Zane: I replied, But McNeil, I'm Australian. Although we were on the phone I could 'see' her turn pale and throw up her hands, confirmed when she said, 'I give up'. You know guys, courageous men usual find big-breasted women easy to handle.

The media people broke up in laughter and that ended the film clip.

As Dan refilled glasses McNeil said, "I loved seeing that again. You projected as a most interesting man Zane, rather witty and rather heroic. I can't recall us ever having a press conference go that well and remained heavily focused on our new book and its author."

"It was great," Rex said. "Zane showed he wasn't scared of the media with their long knives."

"Correct, they loved him Rex," Della said. "We opened the bar for the media and most of them stayed. They gathered round Zane and he regaled them with some of his real-life adventures including some of his carnal adventures."

"You mean Zane talked about sex," Dan said, frowning. "But perhaps half of those journalists were female."

"It's how women are today darling. Ask your daughter."

"Would you converse about sex in front of men Della?"

"Certainly, if it were relevant dad. What do you think women talk about when they are together over a drink... babies and the weather?"

"I-I suppose I knew that."

"Now guys," Zane said. "Let's talk about Della returning with me to Australia to see if she'd like to live there."

Everyone looked at Zane surprised, Della obviously the most surprised.

CHAPTER 3

Farewelled by tearful McNeil, Zane and Della left Chicago at 1:15 on the start of their 9230-mile 26-hour flight, changing at LA to another United jet and their flight arrived at Sydney just after 6:00 am, local time.

As they flew over the harbor city, Della looked down and said, "I still can't believe I'm doing this although you are interesting, the city looks interesting and I still don't know if we are really... really."

"Really what?"

"Compatible."

"Why not?"

"Um..."

"Is that the reply of an intelligent woman?"

"I'm travel weary Zane."

"Well your mouth is still working."

"We haven't had sex."

Zane smiled. "Well the first one will be on Australian soil, won't it?"

Della scowled. "What you made my wait until we got to Sydney?"

"Circumstances kept intervening. The worst barrier came after your mother announced she'd put my carry bags in your room and your father turned purple and said I was sleeping out in one of the single rooms alongside the barn where Rex slept."

"Well that was dad just being dad. Anyway I was upset at you shooting the lovely young doe."

"The request from the kitchen was one young doe."

"You could have let Rex shoot it."

"And you wouldn't have been upset had he shot it?"

"No."

Zane scowled and said he didn't understand and Della snapped men never do.

At the hotel Della phoned her mom to advise they had arrived safely and when finishing the 20-minute call found Zane was soundly asleep. He awoke her at 5:00 pm.

"Oh god, not now. I feel terrible."

"If it's any consolation you look terrible."

Tears threatened but Della, realizing she had to be charge of the situation, said she'd have a shower and Zane could take her down for a light meal.

"Right, I'll go to the pool for a quick swim."

"I'll come with you."

"I want to go now.

"I'll come with you now."

Zane slapped a hand against his forehead and said, "Christ Della."

She replied icily, "What?"

Zane hesitated and then smiled. "Let's go to the pool."

They arrived back at the room very happy and as the door closed and they kissed Della said, "Let's do it Zane. I want you in me."

Zane replied in the manner of any red-blooded guy. He pulled the top of her one-piece swimsuit down and licked over a surprisingly large nipple and murmured, what a great nipple and that set Della alight: "Lick my pussy Zane, I want the delay to end."

Zane's response was positive, the only words he uttered before applying his expertise were, "God Della, trimmed auburn looks very inviting."

She gurgled in happiness.

Later, panting in desire, Della guided it in for Zane. Round two she rode cowgirl and round three it was doggy. They dozed and at 9:30 went down to dinner, hand-in-hand, a 40-year-old and an over-the-moon 26-year-old.

"How do you like Australia darling?"

"Oh Zane, it had been more than three weeks since I last had sex. You have made me feel like a very happy woman. You fuck brilliantly."

Pushing out his chest Zane led Della into the crowded restaurant.

"A window table please ma'am," Zane said to the overweight maitre d' who was as tall as he was.

"You have to be joking, there will be a two-hour wait..."

The woman's eyes widened to almost saucer-size. "Ohmigod, welcome back home Mr Maddox. I have one VIP table left." 

They wandered along after the striding woman and for the first time Della experienced the cult-hero status Zane had in his own state (New South Wales). Guys at some of the tables called "Hi Zane" and women tended to call "Hi darling."

Surprised at how many people who appeared to know him, Della asked as they sat down, "Have you been to this hotel before?"

"A few times."

"So many people seem to know you."

"Oh I get my photo on TV and in newspapers and women's magazines quite a bit, usually caught looking at my date's breasts, sometimes with a hand down there, or brawling."

"Brawling -- God how common."

"Um, sometimes my date has been someone else's wife who arrives to take a swing at me to gain publicity."

"Oh god."

"The truth is Della Australians don't go in for shy half measures like foreigners. With them it's all or nothing. Women in love with me imagine fucking me while guys get aggressive and try to knock my head off to gain notoriety. It's not fair but I've learned to live with it. I first gained my reputation in playing rugby league for New South Wales Country."

"What for being the only pin-up player?"

"Er, probably that too but as the fastest-running forward and the dirtiest."

"What, you didn't wash?"

"No darling -- flying elbow to the head and sneaky eye-gouging and ball wrenching."

"Oh god, how disgusting."

"Yeah, the public must have thought so too. In the first seasons I played our team began drawing big crowds and the three times County with me on the team played City the game drew record attendances."

"With people wanting to see you get your comeuppance?"

"What?"

"It means..."

"I know what it means. It's just I didn't think you'd know that word. It's rarely used these days."

"I am well educated Zane."

"Oh yes, I agree. My superior for sure. But no, I was their Black Hero. They came to see how many players I could immobilize during a game. The media named me Zane the Gladiator. I started training in unarmed combat to increase my fitness and to better defend myself but after four years of being battered I decided to give football away. My home club staged a charity match for me and I used those proceeds to pay a deposit on a small apartment here in Sydney that is now debt-free. It's rented out short term at the moment."

"Yes, I remember you saying that. You said it was on the south bank of the Darling River. I think that's a great name for a river. Will we get a cab there?"

Zane looked for the sly smile but found none. "Where do you think the Darling River is?"

"Um I can't recall you saying. I guess Bourke is a Sydney suburb and the Darling flows into the harbor from there."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you thumping your forehead and rolling your eyes?"

"Bourke is 800km to the north-west of here and is the gateway to the Outback."

"The Outback. What the hell's that?"

"Oh Christ Della, you weren't listening were you?"

"When I do my toenails I often go into a trance."

"I've never seen you do your toenails. I told you when we were on your father's airplane."

"Well I get drowsy in the air, with the engines droning."

"So you remember nothing of what I said about Bourke and Wudinna Station?"

"You know I remember about the Darling River."

"Jesus. You haven't a clue have you? You assume you'll take a cab everyone and there will be a Macy's on every corner, don't you?"

"That's being rude. You know I'm not a birdbrain."

Zane made some calls and managed to get them on a 10-seater charter to Bourke carrying six English tourists.

At the airport next morning, tired from being kept awake half the night fucking, not that she had any complaints about that, Della watched in horror as a middle-aged woman from Kent pawed her Zane.

"Oh Zane Maddox, my favorite author," the skinny woman gushed.

Della waited nervously because her two female companions were rather big breasted but relaxed when they looked down their noses and said they didn't read fiction. Two of the men admitted they'd read some of Zane's books in paperback form but didn't appear to want to fight him.

Della looked down as the aircraft circled Bourke ready to land. "Where's the city?"

Zane leaned over her, tweaking a nipple and said, "That's all you get with Bourke. I can see dad's Toyota at the air field."

Della looked down and said, "Oh god, are we going to land there. Where are air traffic control and emergency services?"

"What you see is what you get at Bourke Airport."

"Oh god, we're doing to die."

The other women, hearing Della, began to sound panicky. They calmed when Zane said, "Safest airport in Australia I believe. Please excuse my companion. She's American."

"Ah, of course she is," said the skinny woman. "Relax girls. It's just another panicking American."

That riled Della. "I predict we'll perish in a fireball."

The women began screaming and the pilot made one of the smoothest landings they'd probably ever experienced.

"Oh god. What have I done?"

"Nothing my darling," Zane smiled. "As the English lady said, just another panicking American. You had them really going. I'll work that scene into my next book."

He received a disrespectful look so kissed Della's lush lips and when he felt her tongue slither into his mouth knew he was forgiven. That feeling of bliss for Della ought to last for a couple of minutes.

"Oh god," Della gasped, stepping from the air-conditioned aircraft into 37.7C (99.86F). She'd heard on the radio at the hotel that morning Chicago airports had been closed due to severe icing.

"Remember it's summer in the Southern Hemisphere darling and some days the temperature takes quite a dip," Zane said helpfully. "I had asked dad to bring us Akubras.

"What are they, survival suits?"

"Stetson-like hats. Keep the sun off your head and you feel a damn lot cooler."




Della Meets an Incredible Fella



"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Here's dad."

Della boggled. The skinny guy in a Stetson and carrying two more was only as high as Zane's shoulder.

"G'day mate. How yer doing?"

"Good dad, returning with everything in working order. Dad this is Della Jones."

"Hi Mr Maddox," Della responded but was ignored.

"Where are the big tits? You like 'em with big knockers."

"This time I've gone for beauty plus brains."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ned Maddox spat, just missing Della's shoe. "Put this hat on love otherwise the Aussie sun will strip your beauty. Madge will fit you up with moisturizing stuff and get your into some decent footwear and long sleeved shirts and long pants. You should have kitted up this woman before bringing her out here son. Bourke doesn't have a branch of Macy's but mum does have their website. Heh-heh-heh."

Della thought hotly, what an objectionable creep with a wife with a hideous name like Madge. God, her mom was right. Australia was uncivilized. The father couldn't even bring himself to say her name. Fancy calling her love! Oh why wasn't she home in Chicago, lovely icy Chicago. Huh? Her head did feel cooler. She almost cried in relief when the hunky vehicle got under way and she found it was air-conditioned.

"Why don't you drive a Jeep -- best in the world for this type of terrain Mr Maddox?"

"Don't call me that name. Everyone calls me Ned, even the tax-collectors looking for missing tax."

Ned and Zane had a good laugh. Seething, Della struggled to think of the term and then it came to her, 'Local yokels'.

"That was very witty Ned."

"In that case why didn't you laugh?"

"It wasn't that witty."

"Yeah, you're right but think of it this way girl, there's not a hell of a lot to laugh about out here. Everyone around here drives Toyotas because they don't know how to stop."

Della said nervously, "You mean that have no brakes?"

Ned roared with laughter and smiling Zane, who was driving, said, "Dad means they just go on and on without breaking down. There's not a service center within cooee of Wudinna station. The nearest one is two and a half hour's away, here in Bourke.

"You mean we have a couple of hours' drive ahead of us?" Della said dully, her eyes rolling up and she fell asleep. Neither man answered, considering a reply was unnecessary.

"Wake up girl, we're home," said the creep proudly, giving 'the girl 'just time to see the sign carved in wood, 'Wudinna Station'. They drove for twenty minutes before Della spotted a low-level building.

"Oh a barn?"

"Della, I think..."

But Ned cut in over his son. "It's our fucking house. If you don't like it Yank sleep in the Toyota."

Della bit back the tears.

Ned turned and looked at her and said, "Why aren't you bawling your eyes out?"

"Because American woman are tough you asshole."

Ned writhed in his seat like a puppet, laughing his head off. Della was disappointed he didn't behead himself.

"Darling, you are now speaking on my dad's wavelength," Zane said kindly.

Della stepped down out of the vehicle and saw a broad-shouldered very busty woman more than six feet tall and carrying a huge calf over her shoulders stop and stare at her just as a cur raced at Della to sink its teeth into her. Della braced herself for the bite just as the fucking jerk Ned yelled, "Get out of there Tom!" 

Welcome to hell Della, she thought as she fell in a faint.

Returning to the present, experiencing first a flash of yellow light and then the disappearing mist of a blue cloud, Della focused and felt herself safely in strong arms and she whispered, "Zane."

"He's helping his dad unload the wagon darling. Are you pregnant?"

"The-the dog."

"Oh that's only Ned's favorite dog Tom. He tends not to like people until making the decision after tasting them."

"Oh god."

"It's been a bit too much for your darling, hasn't it?"

"Y-yes. But I'm not pregnant."

"As you say dear," Mrs Maddox said, gently placing Della on to a sofa. Della checked but there was no calf around Mrs Maddox's shoulder.

"The-the calf."

"It's a yearling dear. Caught its foot between stones and was almost dead when I came across it. Luckily I found it before the wild dogs did. It will be fine once its sprain comes right."

"W-what do I call you?"

"The boys call me mum. You can too otherwise Madge."

"I have a mom. I'll call you Madge."

"I've seen photos Zane has of your mom. He's adores her."

"Adores her?"

"Are you slightly deaf darling? Zane says without her he'd be nothing."

"But they hate each other?"

"Oh yeah. Then why when he brought her out here they slept together for two nights and half of the day in between?"

"It can't be my mother. She's never been here."

"Oh yeah. A short woman with auburn hair like yours with really big tits called Gloria?"

"My mother is taller than I am and it's true she has auburn-haired like me. Her name is O'Neil Jones and she's almost sixty."

"The lying skunk," Madge laughed. "I'd forgotten your mom was a fading redhead and of course she's almost as tall as Zane. I must have been away with the fairies for him to hoodwink me like that. However it's been some years since I'd seen the photographs -- he has them like a shrine in the room he uses as an office in Sydney. The skunk knew I'd asked him several times was he having sex with your mom because when he worked from here he and she used to scrap something awful on the phone. I could hear her foul language across the room. It's common knowledge that people involved in illicit sex scrap robustly." 

"I didn't know that?"

"I said it was common knowledge dear. I didn't say everyone knows. What do I call you?"

"Della."

"Oh how sweet, I had a sex-mad bitch called Dell."

"Pardon me?"

"A black and tan Kelpie -- Tom's maternal grandmother."

"Oh, you mean a dog?"

"Are you all right near? You are sure hard going to talk with. Go to sleep. I'll wake you for dinner. You are probably having too much sex."

Della felt herself returning through the blue mist. Eyes closed she sighed and felt Madge kiss her cheek lightly.

Madge kissed Della awake.

"Hmmmmm."

"You are so beautiful. You were exhausted when you arrived here. That would have been partly travel weariness. I've run a cool bath for you. The men will be back from the sheep yards soon. They've been drenching. My two sons and their families are coming in to look you over."

"Coming in, what does that mean."

"One family lives fifteen miles to the north of here and one lives thirty seven miles to the south-west."

"God, you must have a big ranch."

"There are bigger stations. Ours covers 353 square miles."

"Ohmigod. No ranch is that big."

"Didn't Zane brief you?"

"Well I heard him tell dad but none of us really believed him."

Madge said tersely, "My son doesn't lie."

"Oh please, I accept that. But understand we think our ranch is big."

"How big is it?"

"A thousand and twenty-eight acres."

"But no one has a ranch that small.

CHAPTER 4

Della arrived in the family room and said brightly, "Hi everyone."

The adults stopped talking and gaped. Della was dressed in little black shorts, a white shirt and six-inch heels. Her shapely legs appeared to be hugely long.

Ned, who'd shaven and combed the little hair he had, was dressed in a fresh khaki shirt and khaki shorts that ended below his knees. The other adults were dressed similar in khaki, blue or white. Ned appeared to have undergone a personality change and placed an arm around Della's waist after walking to her, saying, "Good early evening Della. I trust you have revived well?"

"Yes thank you Ned. My this is quite a gathering -- five young grandchildren I see."

"You see good and they are great little kids. The eldest is six. This is my second son Gavin."

"Hi Della. You look sexy."

"I'm his other half Nancy. Ignore Gavin, I think you look terribly sophisticated."

Ned said, "And this is our youngest boy Jack."

"Hi Della. You look amazing.

"And this is Claudia, Jack's wife. The new baby is Claudia's, the others are Nancy's."

"And their respective husbands'," Madge said, walking over and kissing Della. "Isn't she a honey guys?"

The family agreed.

Tom got up as Madge and Ned left Della and was warned by Della as he approached her, "Bite me Tom and I'll kick you nuts into pulp."

Tom sniffed her and then licked her left knee and walked away to sit beside Ned's chair. 

The family stopped staring at Della and began talking. Nancy handed Della a beer.

"Um, is there wine?"

"Yes red wine with the meal but I advise you to drink beer out here as well. You won't get fat because you'll sweat."

"Yes and that's the truth," Zane said, coming up and kissing Della. "You were sleeping in the bath when I arrived home so I let you be."

"Oh, all this sleep."

"It's the travel and tensions and your body adjusting to Aussie time."

After dinner was cleared away Madge sat behind the piano and played a couple of tunes and then began a singsong. Soon she was looking at Della intently. During a break Madge said, "Everyone is staying the night Della and we go into Bourke tomorrow morning for a monthly church service. I play the organ and would like you to sing solo for the congregation. Would you do that for me?"

"Yes, it would be a pleasure to contribute to the community."

"Can you really sing?" Zane asked.

"Yes, I'm professionally trained but only your mom had to ear to recognize that. I was throttled back."

"But I didn't know."

"You have a lot to learn about me Zane and me about you. I have learned that you brought my mom here and seduced her hugely."

Everyone fell about laughing.

"You all know about my deception?"

"Yes mum told us while you were ogling Della asleep in the bath although the incident occurred a year ago," Nancy giggled. "Mum said Della, recovering from initial shock, almost wet herself laughing."

Della decided she really liked Nancy. She and Madge discussed songs and then she stood beside the piano and left her audience spellbound after finishing 'Amazing Grace'.

Nancy recovered first and said, "That was truly amazing and just look at mum's fat cat smile."

"Play it again Madge and you sing with me Nancy and you two Claudia.

"I-I'd rather not, Claudia said. I'm the shy one."

"Claudia, please. You are among family here. Your voice will lift to accompany mine if you allow it. Take the step Claudia."

"Do what she asks," Jack said softly. "Della knows what's she doing."

Claudia handed Jack the baby and went to join Della who placed an arm around them. "Okay take it away Madge."

Next morning, before the clergyman Mr Brown delivered his sermon, he said, "Over to you Mrs Maddox.

"Good morning everyone. Please stand Della."

"Della arrived yesterday two days out from Chicago with my son Zane. Della is the daughter of his publishing editor McNeil Jones. Would my daughter Claudia please stand and now my daughter-in-law Nancy. Come over here girls and show this congregation what you've got."

Everyone laughed. The young women sang beautifully and after the clapping died Della stepped forward and asked, "Would all females in the congregation, at least those willing to do so, please come forward and join us and we'll sing 'Amazing Grace' one more time as a mass choir."

Some forty females sang and as they left to return to their seats some were dabbing their eyes. Mr Brown said, "Thank you ladies. Della, on behalf of the congregation I beseech thee to sing to us once more."

Della turned to Madge who nodded. Della went to Madge and whispered something and Madge began to softly play a carol.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I'm not a regular churchgoer but on Christmas Eve in Chicago, only four weeks ago, I was invited to sing at a 6:00 pm service that two of our local churches have combined for over the past 123 years. They had a number of invited singers and musicians taking part and for some reason my rendition of 'Silent Night' almost brought the house down. Here we go, "Take it away Madge."

The organ worked up to become strident and yet Della's voice rose above it and the exposed rafters practically rattled.

It was a rousing performance and the Maddox family was very proud of 'their' Della and it took quite sometime before the family could get away to have their picnic lunch beside the Darling River. Over lunch everyone was praising Della who took a bow but only after grabbing Madge's hand and asking her to take the bow with her. Della said her real thrill was having Claudia come 'out of the closet' and find the courage to sing with them.

"I believe this will become a turning point for Claudia in learning to breakthrough her shyness. With you rowdy lot she'd bound to get all the support she needs.}

With the other two families leaving, Ned climbed into the back of the big SUV with Madge and Zane jumped into the front passenger seat. Della realized what was happening and screamed. "No, this is a fucking conspiracy!"

Madge laughed loudest and said, "Really dear, what disgusting language for a Sunday."

"You'll drive everywhere while we're out here in the wide open spaces," Ned said. "I'll be teaching you how to drive over sand hills and through dried up creek beds when you have the hang of driving this vehicle."

"Della, my friend Jean McDonald over Kerrigundi way called me early this morning to say she's going shopping in Dubbo and wanted me to go with her for company. It's well over 300 road miles away but she'll by flying her husband's Piper. I said I had you staying and she said I should bring you."

"She is a pilot I hope. You did say it was her husband's plane."

"She is dear; her aircraft is unsuitable to be used as a shopping basket as she competes in air races in it."

"God, you people out here are so resourceful and competitive."

"I see it in you dear. Ned, Zane and I have our pilot licenses and are up to date with them. We had our own aircraft until two years ago when we were almost wiped out by drought and had to sell it to pay our mounting bills. These things happen out here."

"I can see that. God, my dad thinks of himself as a struggling rancher but really has it so easy. You hadn't told me you were a pilot Zane?"

"Oh, sorry. Slipped my mind as you probably did about being a singer." 

"Well only for three years before I joined Innes-Rand publishing in PR. I sang in musicals and did a bit of club work. Eeek. There's a bull on the road."

Zane told her to almost stop when reaching it and toot. "If it doesn't move to go round it. It will move; it's a steer."

"How can you tell? I can't see its balls from here."

"Steers carry more beef about their hind-quarters," Zane said. "It's a fact that due to sex differences, bulls have significantly lower percent intramuscularly fat values than steers. Hence the saying bulls are leaner and meaner."

"Zane went to agricultural college," his dad said proudly.

Before they reached the Hereford it moved off the road.

"Ha, it's a cow," Della snorted.

Zane grinned and said he wasn't infallible. His parents rolled about laughing.

Eight days later Jean McDonald arrived in her husband's plane to return Zane and Della to Sydney as she had two board meetings to attend. They had become quite friendly with Jean and husband Dougal and the two families had socialized occasionally. On the flight Jean asked Della through the intercom system would she work while she remained in Australia?

"I am according to my visa permitted to take up temporary work."

"What do you do?"

"These days I work in publishing PR."

"And before that I sung professionally and trained students. I have a Bachelor of Music from Southern Illinois University."

"What at singing?"

"In voice, yes Jean, why the interest?"

"Um, it's rather complicated. Let's talk over coffee after we land."

Over coffee Jean said one of my meetings tomorrow is a board meeting at a private girl's school as a board member. Some 40% of the 700 students are country girls."

"Oh, that must be very interesting for you," Della said and Zane said he thought Jean was about to say something significant.

"Yes Zane. Della I am aware our school has been unable to attract a singing tutor. They are in short supply because the work is so demanding and our standards are so high. If you meet the school's requirements and are prepared to accept the position your status for approved citizen meeting immigration criteria as an expert in specialist education in an area of proven need is virtually assured."

"God Della, this is your lucky break," Zane urged.

Della said a little uncertainly, "I don't know if I'm keen to become an Australian."

"Well, giving up your residency in America is a big step," Jean said. "I had to make that choice many years ago when I met Dougal who'd been visiting his parents in Scotland and he urged me to emigrate to Australia and marry him. I spent two days thinking about it, mistakenly thought I was pregnant and said yes. I've never regretted it but not all people and circumstances are the same. As you know I'm now the mother of three young Australians."

"What a lovely story."

"Yes Della, and thank you. What say I can arrange an interview tomorrow -- you have nothing to lose."

Della turned to Zane and he said simply, "It's what I'd like but it's over to you."

"Yes and thanks Jean. Here's my cell phone number, I mean my mobile number."

They parted and on the cab ride to Zane's apartment Della said, "I don't know what to think."

Her incredible fella said, she figured afterwards, exactly what she wanted him to say. He said, "Sleep on it."

The apartment was small but comfortable and surprisingly tidy. As if reading her thoughts Zane said, "A cleaning lady comes in every Monday and Friday."

"Brilliant."

"Yeah it's as good as living at home."

She giggled. He patted her butt and she hesitated and said she was tired.

"Are you tiring of me?"

"No, tap me in the morning. May I look at the spare room?"

"Ah, it's where I work."

"So?"

"Ah, all right but please don't get mad at me."

"Now why would I want to get made at you darling Zane?"

Della went into the room and stood and gasped. One wall was just as Madge had said was a group of photos stuck on the wall around a big PR photo release of McNeil Jones, her mom.

Zane: It's not what you think."

Della: I don't know what to think. Have you ever seduced my mom?"

Zane: No, of course not.

Della: I believe you.

Zane: Thank you. Della, you must understand. It's a fundamental truth that without your mom I'd be an also ran would-be author half-smothered in a pile of rejected manuscripts.

Della: Why would she do that?"

Zane: She's never said. She goes on as if she detests me. I know it sounds corny but she recognized unreleased talent in me as a storyteller and knew I'd sink and disappear unless she held out a helping hand. I felt the power within her Della and I sat at her feet as if she was my literary guru. I came to believe in her, willing to heed her and two novels after she began tutoring me it was all over. I had a run away success with 'Mr Tweed's Illegitimate Daughter Comes Calling' and I was away and never looked back.

Della looked at the other wall containing the dust jackets of all of Zane's published novels. "God, just look at them. I've only read three of those."

"There are first editions of all of them in the bookcases in the lounge. Help yourself."

"Thank you. So this is where it all happens?"

"More or less. I take my laptop and sometimes write in coffee houses or on a picnic table on the river bank and in winter in the city library."

"How flexible."

"Your mom taught me not to think and write rigidly."

"Oooh I say. My mom obviously reached your core."




Della Meets an Incredible Fella



Zane smiled and said occasionally after a book release, with the tension between them gone, they would be on the phone for quite sometimes and occasionally her mom talked about her life and the ranch..."But never about you. I wasn't aware you existed."

"But she spoke intimately about herself and the ranch and my dad?"

"Yes."

"Jesus!"

"Why that exclamation?"

"My mom never talks about herself or tells people about her private live. She's driven magazine journalist's nuts when attempting to probe McNeil Jones the woman."

Zane laughed and said sarcastically, "Do you think she was in love with me?"

"To some extent, yes."

"Jesus!"

They went to bed very emotional and consummated their union in the apartment, despite Della feeling so tired.

When Della was sitting at the breakfast bar next morning eating a small plate of cereal doused with a quarter of a cup of fat-reduced milk, she jumped when Zane put a laptop on the bench in front of her.

"What's this?"

"My spare computer. You have a lively mind and at twenty-six have already amassed experience. You plug this into the telephone jack over there and you'll have broadband connection to the Internet for research and information."

"And then what?"

"You begin your first novel."

"That's ridiculous... I haven't a clue."

"Your mom said she had the desire but proved to herself she couldn't write. You have genes from both parents; perhaps you can successfully turn out a novel."

"I very much doubt that."

"Will you try?"

"Okay."

"Then I'll stay with you this morning and talk to you about the elements of a novel, with emphasis on plot and character development, and how you must love your prime characters although they can be hateful at times. Something tells me a novel will flow from you once you have grasped basic principles. It's only a hunch so don't be disappointed if it turns out I'm wrong."

"Um Zane?"

"Yes darling?"

"I feel good about this. I've always resisted the urge to write since leaving college and music school."

Curbing excitement at that response, Zane said: "We'll let you loose after lunch."

But after lunch the student resisted the instructions of the master. Instead of writing she looked through the bookcase in his study and took about a book giving an overview about writing fiction. When Zane returned from visiting his accountant he interrupted Della's reading to greet and kiss her and smiled and said, "Just do it your way; that's fine."

At mid-afternoon Jean McDonald called Della to say she was sorry but the teaching position had been filled. Zane called out that they wished to take Jean out to dinner that evening to thank her for her kindness. She accepted. Zane gave Della $200 to buy Jean a present, saying it would have cost them much more than that for commercial airfares but Jean had refused to accept any contribution towards her aircraft running costs.

"What should I get her?"

"Underwear."

"What?"

"Exquisite French underwear for the older woman."

Della just had to grin and say, "Little wonder women like you as a writer with your mind. I was thinking in terms of expensive trinkets."

"Your mind will grow in creativeness as you struggle to write compellingly."

After checking a website dictionary for nuances in the meaning of 'compellingly' and accepting a literary meaning as 'arousing strong interest', Della realized the guru had let a lesson just drift on to her. Of course she desired to have rapport with readers in anything she wrote whether she would prove to be successful or just another addition to the heap of failures. Even to be a failure you had to write something. She wondered if she had inherited something from her mother that would benefit her, er something called literary DNA? Zane apparently thought she could have the pedigree. This was how people were 'discovered', pulled from the ranks and encouraged to perform.

Della sighed and taped a little note to the inside of her laptop case: "Write compellingly."

The next morning after dining out with pilot Jean McDonald who pulled out of the box the most exquisite nightdress Zane said he'd ever seen and whispered to Della she must have doubled if not trebled the money he'd given her, Della received a call that would decide her future.

"Hi I'm Diane Prebble, head of music at Melrose College, a private secondary school for boys but the top two senior forms accept high-performing female students. A colleague of mine at another college referred me to Mrs Jean McDonald who has just given me your phone number. We are in desperate need for a voice tutor. Are you able to meet a recruitment panel here?"

"When?"

"This afternoon would be brilliant."

"Fine."

"It would be a two-term appointment but if you are offered and accept a permanent position for next year the college would support your application for permanent residency. We are a top school with people in high places appropriately former pupils of our school. So influential references would be no problem from such people who attend our end-of year concert."

Della was delighted and updated her CV before heading off for her appointment. 

* * *

Diane Prebble who headed the five-person audition and appointment committee read Della's CV and cried, "Ohmigod Della, training and experience in both classical and musicals. This is unbelievable flexibility. Please warm up with Shaun here playing exercises. Then if you can when can make do with the one test piece to demonstrate your versatility, 'One Fine Day' from Madam Butterfly."

"Yes, that's a favorite of mine Diane. I admire the choice because it's technically demanding."

Everyone on the panel gradually became enchanted as Della progressed into the famous song from Puccini's opera.

"That was absolutely beautiful Della although you make it clear in your CV you prefer singing songs from musicals. Now we'd like to call in Gary to sing the lead song from our annual musical, this year's one called 'High School Melrose Musical' and we'd like you to act as Gary's singing coach after he's finished."

Gary listened attentively as Della said the quality of his voice was good but he was pushing beyond his range but that was not difficult to teach him to curb that."

"Curb that?"

"To get you to throttle back a little."

"Oh, I understand. That's the term mom uses."

He wasn't aware he closed his eyes excessively, losing eye contact with his audience and that some of his movements were jerky.

"Your voice is good Gary, quite impressive really. There is just some tidying up to do around that voice. Are you proposing to be lead singer in a band; in fact are you already in a band?

Gary looked at Mrs Prebble nervously.

"Miss Jones is on to you Gary. Please answer her."

"You know?"

"Yes Gary. Other students talk. Obvious Miss Jones has an instinct about you."

Della told Gary he needed a more exaggerated technique to sing with a band but he could be helped with that.

Gary left thanking her and Della sat for her formal interview. 

She arrived home with a bottle of expensive champagne and promised Zane she'd carry on at evenings and weekends preparing to write her first novel. She said the school's legal consultant would be applying to have her visitor's visa changed into a work permit.

"Will you tell your mom that?"

"Yes but it's really not necessary."

"Oh and why's that?"

"Because she told me before we left Chicago she knew you wouldn't let me go, that you were a little uncomfortable about our age differences but you would find me irresistible and would hold on to me once you learned our relationship was more than sex."

"You don't say?"

"I'm only passing on what she said."

"And what do you say?"

"Mom's usually right about these things and you appear to be investing time and patience in me. Christ Zane think: what other reason would I have to be taking up a job and leaving all my family and friends behind in America?"

"Della, I don't know what to say."

"Try the truth. It's always a useful technique and may get your somewhere."

"Don't get mad at me Della but the right words will come to me when I'm ready. In the meantime I'm selling this apartment. Would you prefer a larger apartment or a house?"

"I'd like big house within easy biking distance of the school. My head of department Mrs Prebble cycles to school. I want a music room large enough for a grand piano."

"You play the piano?"

"Yes."

"I see. And who'll pay for a grand piano -- they cost a small fortune."

"My mother. It will be her wedding present. In the meantime I'm on a good salary so will apply for a loan to help finance us into our house. I'd like to pay half."

"You mean you'll live with me unmarried, at least in the meantime?"

"Yes Zane. I'm a naughty girl and wish to continue living in sin with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Zane. What do you think we are doing now? God, your mind has fallen out of gear, hasn't it?"

"I just need some thinking time. Let's grab a ferry to Manly."

"Good. You've been saying for weeks we must do that. It's a hot day and some cold beers will go down well. But listen to this Zane. You're a nice guy but don't propose until you feel ready because if I think you feel pressured my answer will be no."

"My god, you are so much like your mother."

Della frowned. "Is that a compliment Zane?"

"Yes."

She broke into a beautiful smile and kissed him. "Come on, take me to sea."

CHAPTER 5

Zane was aware Della had started writing and received vague replies when he asked, "How's it going?" and "Do you love your hero and heroine?" He'd heard some writers talked ad nauseam about work in progress while others like him were prepared to talk guardedly and others were closet writers like Della. It was fine by him and no he wouldn't sneak a look at her overnight work while she was at her beloved college. 

Della's day work had taken her by storm and she'd hired cycles for both of them saying they needed to 'energize together'. Zane especially loved the bit about arriving back home together all sweaty and de-energizing on the lounge floor and judging by her screaming so did Della.

They began meeting other cyclists fairly regularly and the waves of familiarity turned into stopping at the same points for cool drinks and then it was coffee and light lunch and that turned into nights out together at cafes and their circle of new friends grew. They returned the hire cycles and purchased mountain bikes and went with a group on the 90km bike ride from Windsor to Windsor circuit via the Hawkesbury River and so began biking adventures, sometimes taking most of the weekend.

Zane continued to attend kickboxing classes at the fitness center but couldn't interest Della in kickboxing, she saying she valued her nails and good skin toning to abuse it in that way. She'd had a couple of spills from her bike but apparently that didn't count. But she joined the fitness center and went through the fitness circuit with Zane and he was very happy about that.

A few weeks later she said in awe, "I'm tackling these hills with greater ease and speed. I must be using the correct gears."

"Or your level of fitness has soared."

"Who me? You have to be joking."

Zane said she might object if he said she was fucking more robustly for longer these days as some women were like that, as if it were sinful to be considered good at recreational fucking. So next time they were at the pool he asked, "How many lengths is your record?"

"Eighteen, why?"

"Let's go, he said, pushing her in and following her.

When they stopped because Zane was feeling bored she asked how many lengths and he told her.

"Ohmigod, I can't believe it. I knew I'd gone over my old mark but forty lengths. Jesus -- my fitness HAS improved. I think you were trying to tell me that. I've noticed I fuck longer as well. Now come on, there's no need to smirk."

"Go weigh yourself."

"No, I keep away from scales. I told the gym assessor not to tell me what I weighed when I joined this center."

"Don't be a girl Della. Just do it and don't bellyache about what you see."

She returned to the refreshment café looking flushed and said proudly, "Once again you knew something that I didn't my incredible fella. I haven't weight this lightly since I was eighteen. I feel pretty and witty and gay and I want sex."

Zane grinned as did several people at nearby tables.

* * *

McNeil called. Zane knew she'd know Della was at work so it must be a business call.

"How's my baby?"

"Blooming. She's become so fit she's practically shedding her skin."

"So she tells me and that you've gotten her writing. What's very verdict?"

"She's not ready to show me anything yet."

"Well sneak a look."

"No."

"Ohmigod, she waxes on about your changing her; she's changing you, reminding you about the meaning of morality and ethics I guess."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Zane knew it was the end of that probe by McNeil. "I finished chapter 18 about an hour ago. That's about half-way I should think."

"Well the proposal really interested me. Sales of your new book are a record for you. We'll have a statement and a big check through to you in about three weeks. Have you changed the working title of this one... you usually do?"

"Yeah it's 'Intolerable Separation'."

"Oh my, I want to begin reading it now."

"I sent the first fifteen chapters to your office an hour ago. I need to review the next three."

"Send them to me here, I'm at the ranch. It's 9:00 on Sunday evening here, after midday Monday for you."

"Yeah, just gone 2:00. I'll send it now. Anything else?"

McNeil said softly, "Della asked me not to mention this but she'd told me you have a photographic collection of me in the room where you write. And she told me why."

"Well she has a fat mouth."

"Oooh."

"Anything else."

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because there are some things you don't tell people."

"I understand. Are you going to send my daughter back to me?"

"She makes that decision."

"When?"

"When she decides she wants a vacation. She's building a new life here and loves it. If you wish to see here visit us next month with Dan. We should be in our new home by then. You can see where your wedding present will go. She wants a grand piano from you."

McNeil gasped. "When's the wedding?"

"How the hell do I know? I'm too old for her. She says she'd never accept a proposal of marriage from me until she knew I really meant it."

"Della's really like me isn't she?"

"Fucking women," Zane snapped and cut the call. He grinned, knowing the mother would now soften up her daughter. He sent off the email and smiled, picturing Dan reading out the sex passages and the putdowns of women to McNeil before they rolled on to the floor for a lusty bout of sex or wherever they did it.

Two evenings later Della told Zane she'd printed out for him the first five chapters of her draft. "I'm going down to the wine shop to pick up a bottle of something."

Zane's high expectations took a dive. He was so disappointed and was wondering how he'd convey his opinion to Della when his mind rolled back all those years again when he was in this exact position and McNeil came into room and sat down and said, "Well Mr Maddox. This novel of yours is such a fucking mess. Where should we begin" and he'd said at the beginning and she'd smiled and said what a novel idea and he'd gritted and said, "Please don't patronize me. Give it to me straight otherwise I'm out of here." For four hours McNeil had cut to pieces his writing and his literary concepts.

White-faced Della thumped the wine bottle and two glasses on to the table, poured the wine and sat down. Zane was seated stiffly, the eighty-seven pages in front of him.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

"Well?"

"I'm going to do what your mother did to me twelve years ago. I'm going to be very critical of your writing, which is not being critical of you and..."

"Don't be patronizing and don't pull punches otherwise I'm off to bed."

Zane took a deep breath. "As a critic I have to say this is a heap of crap."

"Oh god, my mother said that about your whole novel, not just a few chapters?"

"Yes."

"You must have hated her until you came to know better."

"Yes. Now will you shut up?"

"Sorry."

"Now these are my words Della. It's a different time, a different place. You have a great sense of drama about you. I know you do. But virtually nowhere is it evident in these pages. Your words lack real life and your characters are cardboard characters and their dialogue is all prissy. In real life people emote words like shit, fuck and oh god and expressions like 'up yours'. There's none of that here. Now take your heroine Jane-May. I dislike her name and I dislike her being drawn like a porcelain doll and why does she have to be a virgin -- presumably so late in the novel you can describe how she loses her virginity. Your setting is today in New York City but the sense I get is the setting is Victoria England -- no, more like Edwardian. All the people Jane-May meets are pleasant and dressed beautiful. You told me you'd been to New York three times, so I ask where all the people you saw who dressed smartly?"

Della said expressionless, arms around herself as if attempting to curl into a ball. 

Zane spent the next hour telling Della to change Jane-May's name and change her vocation from hotel general manager to a music teacher, that the best way to write a first novel was for it to be semi-autobiographical, to write what she knew about and then to advance from there. Fiction needed to be based on fact to make it believable, and making it believable even included science fiction based in the year 2050. Unless the author injected credibility his or her readers would toss the partly read novel aside.

Zane ignored Della's tears. Finally he said, "Start again Della and write your mom a novel that will bring tears to her eyes and make her admire your skill of story-telling. Well that's me finished. Rip into me."

Tears flowing Della looked steadily at Zane and said, "I quote from an interview I witnessed in Chicago: 'She kissed me, patted my ass and said...Now go back home young man and write me a real novel'. Is my mother brilliant Zane?"

"I think she is. She's been the driving force behind educating the tentative contract authors of Innes-Rands the value of self-belief and coaching them to advance in their craft. Deliver her a half-decent novel Della and she'll take you under her wing."

"Right my darling. I'll try again, going back to page one."

"Good girl. Live the novel Della."

A couple of hours later Della restarted her first novel with the more dynamic title, 'Casey Durant, Darling of Broadway.

On the second page she wrote: DEDICATED to McNeil Alice Jones of Chicago who relentlessly pushed numerous aspiring authors on track to achieve their dreams.

She then began:

A deepening mist shrouded West Dublin as Sister Iona Kelly wearily auditioned the final young girl at the Catholic school that day, unable to remember whether Casey O'Reilly was the 30th or 31st she'd asked to sing the first two verses of 'Maggie'.

"Casey, Sister Moira will play the opening bars. There will be a slight pause and then you begin on the first note. Ready?"

"Yes Sister."

Sister Iona began gathering her papers in the dingy room beside the church and then dropped them, standing transfixed as Casey began. With the undernourished 14-year old with straggling black hair working into the song she hurried off and shouted, "Father Murphy, Father Murphy, come quickly!" A door opened on the far side of the church and the white-hair elderly priest asked in a singsong voice, "Now what's upsetting you Sister?"

"Listen to the voice, I've auditioned for thirty-eight years always thinking this moment would come and it finally has arrived. Father Murphy, listen to the voice of a young angel. She's Widow O'Reilly's seventh and last child Casey."




Della Meets an Incredible Fella



* * *

The next day when Della walked her cycle out of the school gates she found Zane in his newly leased Jeep waiting for her.

"Don't kiss me, not in front of these over-sexed girls."

Zane ignored the request and kissed her, Della squirming in his arms as some of the students shrieked in laughter and someone yelled, 'Miss Jones has the hots for a mystery man'. He waved and grinned at the girls and called, "Isn't she a honey. Now run along a do your homework."

"Oh god," he heard Della whimper.

Zane placed the cycle on to the back rack and got into the driving seat. "I think I've found it. It's empty and I have the key and Doreen has two prospects interested in buying the apartment. It's all happening."

"Oh darling, how exciting," Della shrieked, unbuckling and throwing herself at Zane oblivious to the boggling school students.

It was an extensively renovated two-level home, plaster over double-brick painted cream and a new orange tile roof and situated four houses back from the water's edge at Rose Bay. It was also within reasonable cycling distance from Della's school.

The grand vaulted entry went to the far side of the house and had an access 'bridge' across the entrance from the first floor to two bedrooms sharing a bathroom.

"Instead of a music room why not place your piano at the far end of this entrance way?"

"Oh yes," Della said, clutching Zane's arm but I'd first need to check out the acoustics?" 

On the left was a big family room that Zane said they could convert into their workrooms. The kitchen had been completed remodeled with new appliances and a breakfast bar. The upstairs master bedroom was huge with a 'his and her' dressing room divided by a passage into a huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi. They returned downstairs and walked through the L-shaped lounge with the formal dinning room overlooking the swimming pool behind the house.

"I love it, I absolutely love it but unfortunately we can't afford a house of this quality in this prime location."

"Can't we? I signed up for it this morning."

"But how can we afford it even with my bank loan?"

"Darling you won't need a bank loan. I don't think you have any idea of how much I'm worth, and that's heaps. One of Australia's best investments is property in Sydney's premiere suburbs on or near beaches. We'll live on your salary; that will be your contribution and you'll have money over to spend on yourself and to save. This will be a perfect arrangement."

"It sounds one-sided to me."

"Well you are not to worry your pretty head about it. I'll get you to sign a document that the house is my exclusive property -- the lawyers will have the right words to describe the situation."

"That would make me feel a lot better."

In another development McNeil emailed Zane to say she and Dan had delayed their arrival a bit to suit their schedules. The arrival date she gave was eight weeks away.

A month later, a week away from shifting to Rose Bay, Della sat watching TV and twitching badly. Zane was reading the first eight chapters of her manuscript.

"Della!"

She ran, skidding to a half in front of him at his desk. "It will require tighter editing but let McNeil's team do that. It's brilliant... well perhaps I should say very good." He held out his arms and Della sat on his knee and hugged and kissed him.

"Email it to your mother in the format I've talked to you about: A covering letter, a brief CV and a two page synopsis and an estimate of the final wordage. I'll make supper while you do that."

"Do you want to edit my rewrite sections?"

"Your mother's team will attend to that. I must not interfere. I want them to see what stage you are at as a writer."

"I might bomb out if you don't tidy it up for me."

"You won't and stop attempting to seduce me into saying it's brilliant."

"Is it?"

"I'll say this: this time you have exceeded my expectations. I want to know what happens next. Now that ought to tell you something. Send it tonight darling."

* * *

In Chicago McNeil viewed the unsolicited submission of eight-chapters in disbelief. At thought she was being suckered, being asked to assess a submission that would have Zane Maddox's footprints all over it. But soon she realized it read nothing like his style. For a start it was written too sensitively and the word pictures drawn suggested a feminine touch. Excitement gripped her. She knew she must not read any farther.

She called Carol Leeds, one of her acquisitions editors.

"Carol I require you to assess this partial submission without discussing it with anyone. You are to make no concessions. This young writer has to be treated like any other would-be writer except she has the lucky break of bypassing our usual screening. The writer is my daughter Della."

"What Della is writing from Australia as well as holding down a new job in her new country?"

"Yes as well as living with Zane Maddox."

"Holy Christmas. Dealing with him would be a heavy workload."

"Surprisingly, Della tells me she's the fittest and happiest she's ever been in her life. And I believe she's unlikely to return here."

"Wedding bells?"

"She won't talk to me about it but Zane says she's expecting him to propose with the warning it better sound genuine otherwise she's returning home. So he's working on it, waiting for something profound to happen to push the right button."

"That sounds awfully complicated."

"It is and he blames me, saying Della is so much like me. I called him an asshole for saying that and amazingly he just laughed, making me think Della is taming him. This writing push is all him. He's been coaching her but I'll be surprised if you find anything in those pages that sounds like him or even suggests his influence. I've read the first few pages and then called you. Carol, you are to assess this commercially, one hundred percent. Go soft because the writer is my daughter and I'll whip out your ovaries."

"God McNeil, don't scare me like that."

Carol returned next morning and placed the partially completed manuscript in front of Della. McNeil's tight lips loosened into a smile when she saw the attached sticker: 'Refer to Acquisition Panel. Acceptance recommended by Carol'. 

"So you think it's that good?"

"Yes, some rewriting will be required. It's highly charged with emotion and this writer loves her characters and she keeps them going forward apart from the requisite upsets. We'll sell heaps of this book. What was your opinion?"

"Keep this confidential Carol. I read the first twelve pages and thought if the decision is made to reject this manuscript then I'll personally publish it."

"You won't have to do that McNeil. We have a new writer called Della Jones about to enter our stable. If she marries she can still write under the name of Della Jones."

"Well that will probably be decided before we publish. Thanks Carol I'll call her with the good news. Please send her the usual letter of conditional acceptance and get her signed up and the minimum advance paid."

"Minimum?"

"Yes, I don't want to give her a swollen head."

CHAPTER 6

Della received her mom's call and then signed a contract under the terms of conditional acceptance and later received an advance payment of $5000 that peaked her excitement. From there it was all down hill. Della was now under pressure to finish her manuscript with ten weeks. Fortunately by the time she received that deadline she and Zane were well settled into their new home and her work permit had arrived. At school she had the pressure of the end of second term concert by senior school pupils, to free them from that pressure at the time of final exams near the end of year. Della was responding to Zane's urgings to treat the school and the home pressures as being different and separate because that would lessen the concept of a heavy weight to carry. Zane also convinced Della to stop writing by 10:00 each evening and then to review her day and evening in the bath. She slipped into that routine and claimed to have found it mentally calming.

Zane relaxed too, believing a potential crisis had gone and then began noticing changes. Being a guy, he noticed the drop off in sexual activity. He was virtually left to having to ask for it, spontaneity between them evaporating. He blamed himself for pushing Della too fast with her writing. He ought to have not submitted until she'd had a completed manuscript to send off. Now she had a panicky young editor emailing her two or three times a week repeating the same request: "I need more chapters."

"This is damn irritating, keeping me off balance," Della replied. "I'm calling mom to call that damn bitch Megan off my back."

"You do no such thing. Reply to the damn bitch you're working on it and that meets her minimum expectations. Go near you mother about your writing and you can kiss goodbye your career in writing. Her people will see her interference as becoming greater than your talent.

Della stormed off frustrated, crying.

Zane that she was twenty-six years old and she didn't need him to telling her how to keep relaxed by drinking less alcohol and reducing outside commitments. Perhaps that was a near-fatal mistake. He didn't notice it at first but she began drinking more and associating more with her girlfriends. 

Zane put Della to bed and thought that's twice that week she'd had a skin full. Hmmm. On the next Saturday when he suggested a bike ride she replied she wished to work on her novel but an hour later she came out in riding gear, kissed him and left him startled, saying she was off cycling with a couple of her girlfriends from school. Zane's response was to go to the fitness center and punch the crap out of the punch bag and almost got into a fight with another guy who wanted the heaviest bag Zane was monopolizing. The female duty manager stepped in before any punches were thrown and took Zane to the refreshment center. Kylie and Zane began chatting and he found she knew who he was and read his books.

Eventually front office called Kylie. But then Zane was focused on her. "Want to do a movie this afternoon?"

"I have a husband Zane."

"So?"

Kylie licked her lips.

"Kylie?"

She turned pink and said she had access to his phone number. She'd call him sometime.

Zane thought she'd never call him but Kylie did, just after noon next day.

"Hi, what are you doing?"

"Moping."

"Oooh."

The way she said that got Zane's motor running. "That American woman I've seen you photographed in the Sunday papers with and sometimes at the center lives with you doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Is she in the room with you?"

"Yes."

"So your responses to me have to be deceptively short."

"Yes."

"And life is a little bumpy at present."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Here's my address. My husband has gone off with the boys to football and won't return till goodness knows when, and drunk. I'll serve late lunch."

"Just a minute."

Zane didn't hold his hand over the phone. He asked Della did she want to go out that afternoon.

"No I'm working on this fucking novel."

"All right if I go out harbor fishing with Bruce Mansfield?"

"Yes, it will leave me in peace and quiet."

"Yeah Bruce, I have a leave pass you little ripper."

"I heard her swear. American women usually don't use bad language. She must really be under pressure."

"See you within the hour mate."

"Oooh, are you hoping to mate with me?"

Zane snapped his phone shut and dropped it as if it were a hot brick.

He went off and changed into an old shirt and shorts.

"Kissing him Della told him to pack sun protection cream and take a full water bottle.

"Yeah, good thinking."

Zane drove to Bankstown dealing with Sunday drivers. He thought he must remain loyal to Della and not fuck Kylie if her mind was on that. She appeared to be his age, forty. He'd certainly kiss her and perhaps feel her up but not fuck her, right.

"Right," he said aloud with conviction.

Kylie let him into the homely apartment. She closed the door and pulled up the hem of her sundress and said, "Lick me."

Zane dropped to his knees and went in like a hungry dog waiting for dinner. Well he was only doing what a woman expected from a man.

He pulled the leg of the panties aside and found she shaved. He worked his tongue and then Kylie, standing and holding on to his hair, groaned and said, "Use a finger love." Zane inserted a finger and as he inserted another she creamed over his hand and said "Wow. Let's have a bite."

She meant lunch because she walked out to the back patio and sat at the table. She picked up a full glass of wine and a bottle of beer awaited Zane.

Kylie looked up at him and grinned. "Don't you want to wash your face? You chops are dripping my juices?"

"Nah."

"Oh god," Kylie said, shaking a little and pulling her top down to display a half-decent pair of knockers. "I've found myself a real man."

"This will be a oncer. We are finding it tough going at home at the moment."

"I understand. Just the one breakout is acceptable to me," she said, probably lying through that toothy smile.

Seated by then, Zane fancied his boner was about to lift the table.

"We'll just have this shrimp and prawn salad and then fuck before having more food. Is that okay?"

"Good one doll. If I'm eating your food I expect to give you something in return."

"Oooh."

Zane pulled off the panties while Kylie spilled her tits and licked one.

"Get into it doll. Participation is what I like."

Kylie stared at him and pulled her legs up around her ears, presenting herself wide open.

"Oh mate, what a box to plunder," Zane said, dropping into slang because he was out in Bankstown.

"My fella is a senior nurse at Lidcombe Hospital and I reckon he's getting almost his fill from his nurses."

"So you thought a fill from me would go with Sunday lunch?"

"You're funny," Kylie said, pulling his engorged red dick into her as they both watched the invasion. "Rub my tits will you. There's been no working up to this."

Zane bit a fat nipple. Kylie bucked and said "Oh Christ" and her motions seemed to suck Zane deep into her.

"Are you protected?"

"My tubes are tied if that's what you mean. I've had two kids and that's enough."

Zane looked around wildly asking where were they."

"At my mother's dipstick," she laughed. "Now concentrate and fuck the ass off me."

* * *

Zane wearily began the drive home and remembered to stop off and buy from fresh fish fillets. He arrived home and called out "Hi."

There was no answer.

Zane found her nude, asleep on the bed, her legs wide open and thought oh now, she was waiting for sex. And then he noticed the slender golden vibrator still inserted and dampness on the bed cover below it. He grinned with relief. She'd not be interested till the morning, if interested, and that was a great relief to know.

An hour later after showering he began pan grilling the fish in a little butter and called out, "Della, dinner."

She came out in a gown and a little red faced. "Um, did you come into the bedroom?"

"No," Zane lied. "Just glanced in and saw you were peacefully asleep so left you to it?"

"Left me doing what?" Della said stiffly.

"Sleeping."

"Oh, come here and let me kiss you. This looks lovely. Caught by your own hand?"

"Of course. Terry took the rest of the catch home as he has a big extended family."

"I thought you went fishing with a little ripper called Bruce."

Zane swallowed hard. "I did. His older brother Terry came out with us. Terry has four kids and his wife's parents are living with him."

"Oh god, how lucky I am to have only you to care for. I excelled myself at writing this afternoon. Want to read it."

"Of course I do darling. You know I support you to the hilt."

"Ah the hilt. Do you mind if we wait till the morning. I'll feel more like clamping around it then."

"You're a little ripper darl."

She grinned and when biting into the fillet said, "Oh my, there's nothing like fish straight from the sea."

Zane had already made the discovery so was ready for her.

She said coolly, "This fillet has been dipped in flour and breadcrumbs. We don't stock breadcrumbs?

Zane smiled reassuringly. "Terry arrived with a cooler, flour and breadcrumbs. His wife is Italian and insists he breadcrumbs them straight out of the water."

"Oh, the clever lady. It means her kitchen is not messed up."

He read that new writing and sighed, thinking it was rather pedestrian. Casey O'Reilly was becoming noticed on Broadway but everyone liked her and she liked them.

Zane wrote in red type: For goodness sake Della, keep Casey being overall nice but remember she has red hair -- she's occasionally bound to stamp her foot and times and tear hair -- not hers. Have her feuding with the principal female singer of the cast. It's also about time you had theatre critics no longer ignoring her or panning her. Instead have one of them one night writing so his sub-editor would seize the line for a heading dump on Casey: 'She's fast emerging as a new diva and isn't it about time we had one?'

Kylie called in most afternoons to be fucked after finishing her shift at 1:00 and she appeared not to notice it had become almost mechanical. Then on the second Thursday afternoon she wanted it in the ass and Zane said he didn't do ass. They shouted at one another. She showered and left screaming at him she'd find a more accommodating lover and that was the end of Kylie although they would continue to chat at the fitness center because it was part of her job to interface with members.

On that Saturday morning just as Della took a fat cock into her mouth she smiled and said, "You have been incredibly sweet to me easing back on your demands in recent days. I haven't permitted this since college days but would you like to take my ass?"

Zane had been waiting patiently for this offer ever since the first time they'd had sex. "Anything to please you baby.

He sweated and wince, she sweated and groaned and after almost fifteen minutes of nervous tension, both asking was it worthwhile, they continued awkwardly until they had their biggest rest, all of it in.

"My cock will be black and blue tomorrow," Zane complained and Della said optimistically now he'd stretched her it ought to be much easier in future.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

They grinned and she, in doggy position, said, "Start pumping darl. This is research for my novels."

Zane went in and out a bit at the time, getting her used to the feeling. "Careful if it's your heroine getting it up the ass Della. Some readers will find it unacceptable and take a dislike to your heroine."

"Some of your heroines take it up there."

"Yeah but that's an advantage of being a male writer; some of those disapproving readers know that's the sort of filthy thing males do to a lovely woman. Also the readers who follow me become used to the heroine getting it this way and that way and even gets fucked down her throat because that's what my heroines get in my novels."

"Why didn't you tell me this before I allowed you to jam it up my ass. It was fucking painful for a while Zane."

"I was hoping you'd scream yelling for me to pull out, and the pain would remind you not to allow your heroines to be despoiled. How would I know you'd be under me bucking and yelling at me to slam you harder and not to stop until I filled your back passage with sperm?"

"Zane Maddox, you are disgusting, that's what you are," Della sniffed hobbling off to have a warm bath. "Read what I wrote last night you bastard. My computer's open."

Zane had expected to read Casey was throwing the occasion tantrum and now Zane found she called the stage director 'an hysterical bitch' every time when the director threw a wobbly when something went wrong during rehearsals. When the production began to run Casey had the sense to pull in her horns because abuse could upset members of the case when the pressure was on to perform perfectly.