---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Old Valley Road Hotel.
By Wombat. ------------------------- Any constructive comments are appreciated. I'm at 'bungala_wombat@yahoo.com.au'. ------------------------------------
Chapter 7 - 'A Rainy Day' Part 4
------------------------------------ Part 64: New Year's Eve ------------------------------------
Paul was very reluctant to go to the McBrides' New Year's Eve party but his parents insisted. They said that the McBrides had invited him as well as his parents and expected him to attend. Paul very much did not want to go to the party especially after his father had mentioned that quite a few of George McBride's Federal parliamentary colleagues from the Liberal Party and their wives from Canberra were going to be there as well as some political staffers. The prospect of being stuck with all those boring politicians and their wives was to Paul frankly appalling.
However, he had been friends with Lachlan McBride for a long time. He hoped to spend a bit of time with Lachlan but understood that Lachlan was likely to be too busy being a host to the multitude of guests.
Lachlan was the only son and middle child of George and Myrtle McBride. He was twenty one years old and had just completed his agricultural science degree at the University of Sydney. He was a tall fit lean young man with a strong, athletic and muscular build, broad shoulders, straight blond hair, blue eyes, narrow waist and hips. At 188 cm. (6'2") and 95 kilograms (210 lb.) he looked the very picture of a well-tanned fit strong young Australian horseman from a sheep or cattle station (ranch). His two sisters were Agnetha and Cynthia.
Paul's father was dressed up in clerical garb, a dark grey suit with a clerical collar. His mother wore a long-sleeved evening dress made of a light material printed with roses.
Paul chose to wear a short-sleeved figure-hugging white shirt of thin polyester that showed off his splendid pectoral and shoulder muscles; the sleeves were high enough to display his big bulging well-veined biceps. He teamed that with a tight-fitting white pair of very short light nylon shorts with a wide black leather belt. The shorts were short enough to display his thick powerfully muscled thighs as well as a bulge showing off his large genitals. He finished off the ensemble with a short pair of white socks and a pair of black runners. He had very little body hair. He knew from experience that the outfit he chose pulled in the chicks at University. He was a rugby player with the body to show for it.
Then he applied gel to his blond hair and pushed the hair up into a faux hawk.
His parents were waiting for him in the sitting room when he came downstairs.
His mother greeted him with: "You're not going like that, are you?"
She immediately launched into a tirade saying that his clothes were most inappropriate; his shorts were indecently short and he looked absolutely outre. She ordered him to go and get changed into something decent.
Paul refused.
His father looked him up and down with one eyebrow raised.
"Your display of naked thigh is rather de trop. You are committing a sartorial faux pas that you may come to regret," he warned.
Paul was unmoved.
As they were about to get into the Corolla his mother asked him if he was wearing any underpants.
"No," replied Paul.
His mother was horrified. She told him that it was indecent and obscene. Only the very lowest class of people went without underpants. She told him that he must immediately go back upstairs and put on some underpants.
His father heaved a sigh of resignation.
"Darling, not now please. We'll be late and the McBrides do expect us to be punctual," he said.
They all got into the station wagon and his father drove off. Paul found the back seat cramped. He was too big to fit and he could not get comfortable.
He wished that his brother Frank had left his little second-hand Daihatsu four-wheel-drive with his parents instead of leaving it with friends in Canberra. He had the feeling that Frank did not trust him with it.
The drive out to the McBride homestead seemed interminable although Paul knew it was only a few kilometres (miles) out of the town. His mother was making polite conversation while his father drove carefully along the road winding through the hills. Paul thought sourly that she was trying to gloss over the earlier tensions. He caught his father's eye in the rear-view mirror.
"Cheer up, son," he said with a half-smile on his face. "It's not that bad. I'm sure you'll have fun there."
There was silence from his mother.
At last the stone gate-pillars of the McBride homestead 'Balmoral' came into view. It was named after the residence in Scotland belonging to Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth and was a well-known Merino sheep stud. The Hamilton-Forbes family drove through the gates along the driveway to the grand two-storey Victorian Renaissance-style mansion that was the McBride homestead. In front were already parked a number of large cars including big white C-plated Australian Commonwealth Government luxury sedans.
His father found a park. The little Toyota Corolla station wagon looked quite humble parked among the big luxury sedans.
Paul and his parents entered through the front door and were greeted by a very formal-looking balding middle-aged man wearing spectacles and a white jacket with black bowtie and black trousers. He directed them to a younger man similarly attired in a white jacket and black trousers. He led them into the ballroom where they were greeted by George and Myrtle McBride in evening dress. If the McBrides disapproved of Paul's outfit they did not show it. George had a chit- chat with Paul's parents while Myrtle expressed her regret to Paul at hearing that he had done so badly at University and hoped that he would have better luck with his studies the following year.
A couple came up behind them and the Hamilton-Forbes family moved on. A man in his forties offered them a tray of tall flutes filled with champagne. Paul refused and asked for a beer. The man snapped his fingers and a young woman appeared with a tray of glasses full of beer.
"It's Coopers Sparkling Ale, which is very nice," said the young woman. "I hope it will be all right for you."
Paul picked up a glass of beer and took a sip.
"Tastes all right. It'll do fine." He smiled reassuringly at the woman who smiled back at him.
He saw that his parents were already engaged in conversation with Colonel Gunn and his wife. He had no doubt that if he joined them the colonel would express the same crass sentiments about his university career as Myrtle McBride had done. Either that or he would try and pressure Paul into joining his troop of pretend soldiers.
Paul walked off in a different direction. Already the ballroom was starting to fill up with people. Most of the women were wearing evening dresses while most men were wearing black dinner suits (tuxedoes), some were wearing white dinner jackets with black trousers and a sprinkling were wearing either lounge or business suits or sports jackets. No one else was wearing shorts.
Already Paul was feeling underdressed. Some people were looking at him with disapproving expressions on their faces. He squared his shoulders and ignored them.
He saw and heard a palm court orchestra playing light classical music on a raised platform at one end of the ballroom. Potted palms lined the wall behind the orchestra in a dense line. Other potted palms lined the walls of the ballroom at intervals.
He observed that there was quite a large number of strongly-built fit- looking men in black suits standing around near the walls. Each man wore an earpiece with mouthpiece and with a curled piece of plastic like a telephone cord running from it into the suit. Paul realised they were the security men for the protection of the Prime Minister and the other government ministers present. He wondered why there were so many. He thought it was unlikely that any threatening incidents were likely to occur here in Ringtail Springs but then it was only a few months since the destruction by terrorists of the twin World Trade Centre Towers in New York.
Most of the party guests had gathered near the middle of the ballroom away from the walls.
Ahead he saw Agnetha McBride. She looked slim and very elegant in a long white sleeveless evening gown with sparkly beads and had her long blonde hair up in an expensively well-coiffed mass of curls. With her was a group of young men, none of whom Paul knew. They were all drinking champagne.
One of the young men looked over at Paul and said something. They all turned and looked at Paul. Agnetha said something in return. She turned towards Paul.
"Well, hullo, sexy," she declared in a booming voice that carried across the ballroom. "Showing a bit of leg, I see." She paused for effect. "Paul, you do have magnificent thighs."
"Hi," said Paul weakly.
He was acutely conscious of everyone around him turning around and staring at him. Some were grinning, some were smirking and some cast disapproving looks in his direction. He started feeling uncomfortable.
"Come on over and I'll introduce you," said Agnetha.
Paul joined the group and Agnetha introduced him around.
"I see you're dressed appropriately for the weather," one of the young men addressed Paul.
He turned to Agnetha. "You must spend a fortune air-conditioning this old pile."
"It's not an old pile," retorted Agnetha. "It's our home."
"Oh, well, I s'pose you could call it a palace then," replied the young man with a grin.
"Except it's not the done thing in this country to refer to one's home as a palace," said a second man. He spoke with a very cultured accent and he was about six feet (183 cm) tall with broad shoulders and a lean strong athletic build. "I suppose one could refer to it as a mansion then."
Agnetha rolled her eyes.
"Do you play rugby?" a third man asked Paul. "You certainly have the build of a strong rugby player."
"Yes," replied Paul.
"For whom do you play?"
"The Australian National University Uni-North Owls."
"Rugby Union?"
"Yes."
"That's a rough game," commented the second man with the cultured voice. "But you certainly have the build for it. You obviously work out a lot. What do you weigh?"
"105 kilos," replied Paul.
"That's 16 and a half stone (231 lb.) if you still work in the old units," put in Agnetha.
"And well over six feet, I see," remarked the man. "You certainly do have an impressive physique, lots of hard muscle." He looked Paul up and down with a slight smile. "Very impressive indeed. Perhaps we should get to know one another better."
"Drake, I assure you that Paul is most definitely not interested in sex with other men, are you, Paul?" declared Agnetha.
"Er, no," replied Paul taken by surprise.
He briefly considered the possibility of a practice run of sex with Drake considering the vision he had of Jesus in the church but rejected the idea out of hand. There was something deeply unattractive about Drake although he was very good-looking and he was quite well-built. There was something about him that was definitely not right. Paul felt very naked, particularly with the way Drake was looking him over. He felt as if he were a naked body on a forensic pathologist's slab waiting to be cut open for an autopsy. Paul repressed a shudder.
"Oh, what a shame," said Drake with a slight flounce. "You definitely do look as though you have the potential, Paul."
"Oh, stop it, Drake," scolded Agnetha. Some of the other men snickered.
Paul glared at Drake.
"Down boy!" exclaimed Drake raising both his hands and looking at Paul with an expression of mock terror.
"Oh, really, Drake!" Agnetha sighed with exasperation.
They were joined by a distinguished-looking middle-aged man attired impeccably in an expensively well-tailored black dinner suit with all the trimmings. He reeked of old Sydney money.
"My word, Agnetha my dear, you do scrub up well," he said. "You look absolutely beautiful."
Agnetha thanked him somewhat diffidently.
The older man looked around the group and his gaze rested upon Paul with a patronising smirk.
"I must say, Agnetha, you do have an interesting variety of friends," he said.
Agnetha introduced the group to him. She took care to include Paul. The older man was her Uncle Arthur, one of her mother's brothers.
The conversation turned to subjects foreign to Paul. Several conversations commenced as the group started breaking up. Paul felt excluded. He drifted off to the bar where he got another beer.
Walking back he encountered Cynthia McBride. She was wearing a long white low-cut evening gown with her hair up in a high-class hairdo. The dress did not quite reach the floor and it looked rather tight around her ample overflowing breasts. It looked like Cynthia had outgrown the dress. Paul thought that compared to her older sister Agnetha, Cynthia looked a bit of a frump, a country girl dressing up. He was put off by all the cleavage she was showing. He considered that it was too much.
"Well, I see you're suitably dressed for the weather outside," she commented. "Is it too cold for you in here?"
"No. I'm fine."
Cynthia smirked. "I hear you're a hot guy."
Paul felt somewhat embarrassed. He exhaled.
"Sorry," said Cynthia.
The conversation moved on in a desultory fashion. Paul wondered why he was trying.
A young woman joined them. She appeared older than Cynthia. She was wearing a long white linen evening dress with a full skirt and many frills and flounces of pink and green. The dress had long loose- fitting sleeves and looked rather old-fashioned. The woman's hair was a mass of blond curls. Paul noticed that she had darker eyebrows.
"Hullo, er, Kate," Cynthia greeted her. "I see you've frocked up for the occasion."
"Your parents' New Year's Eve party is a grand occasion. It did say evening dress on the invitation," the woman replied.
She looked at Paul.
"So who's this hot hunk?" she asked Cynthia.
Cynthia introduced Paul to her.
Paul noticed Kate had a somewhat deep voice and mannish appearance. She had a sturdy build that might hide some muscle. Paul wondered if she might be a sportswoman or a female athlete. He considered asking her if she was from the Australian Institute of Sport in Canberra but thought that might be putting his foot in it. There was something different about her but he could not put his finger on it. She certainly had all the appearances of a woman. Her breasts were right, not too big and not too small. Her shoulders were quite wide but so were her hips.
Kate asked Paul the usual questions about himself which Paul answered.
She told Paul that she was a political staffer working in Canberra for Senator Cornwallis, the Minister of Defence Procurement. She also worked with Cynthia's father whom the Prime Minister had recently appointed the Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister of Defence Procurement soon after his election as a Member of Parliament. She told Paul that they all had attended a political seminar held at the McBride homestead a couple of months previously. The accommodation was palatial. She had enjoyed herself. It was a very pleasant change from Parliament House in Canberra.
A group of Cynthia's school friends joined the three. They chattered away happily. One of them announced she had something to show them but it was secret.
"Sorry, Paul," said Cynthia. "Secret women's business."
The schoolgirls all walked off. Kate chose not to go.
"I saw you talking to Agnetha and her friends," she said. "Did Drake try and pick you up?"
"Yeah, I think so," replied Paul.
"Steer clear of him, Paul. He's bad news. I've heard of guys who've had really bad experiences with him. He does like to hurt guys, like torture them, like for real in his torture chamber. I hear he's got one that's fully equipped with all sorts of horrible things. In fact I've heard that there've been some guys who've gone with him and have just disappeared off the face of the earth never to be seen again. In fact I don't know why decent people like Agnetha have anything to do with him like he's pure evil. I guess it's because he's very rich and a celebrity and he's so charming and amusing."
"Whooh!" exclaimed Paul. "Thanks for the warning."
Kate looked around. She excused herself with "There's Senator Burgoyne, the Minister for Defence. I must go and have a talk with him. Maybe I'll catch you up later."
Paul downed the remainder of his beer and walked over to the bar for another. He observed that there were some other local worthies from the town present besides his parents, Doctor Hamilton the local GP and his wife, Doctor Drilling the dentist and his wife, Colonel Gunn and his wife, Mr Pennyquick the accountant and his wife, Mr and Mrs Bampton, Mr and Mrs Bletchley and a few others. Most guests were from out of town.
Leaving the bar, Paul threaded his way through the other party guests. Some looked at him with raised eyebrows. Most ignored him. Paul felt excluded. He could not see his parents. He decided to go out onto the terrace outside the ballroom as the ballroom was filling up. He went out through the French doors.
Out on the terrace the night air was a lot warmer than in the air- conditioned ballroom but it was fresh. Paul was glad to be outside.
The night sky was filled with stars. The Southern Cross lay upside down at an angle over the south-eastern horizon.
A large moon just past full was appearing over the eastern horizon.
Paul leant on the balustrade and watched the moon. It looked so large coming up over the horizon and it illuminated the landscape with a pale golden light. Trees and shrubs in the garden were thrown into sharp relief. It was beautiful. He stared at the moon lost in contemplation.
He became aware of a presence beside him. He turned and saw next to him Lachlan McBride dressed in a black dinner suit.
"G'day, Muscles," said Lachlan. "How're they hanging?"
"Oh, yeah, OK," replied Paul. "You?"
"Fine, considering. It's getting a bit crowded in there."
"Man of the open spaces?"
"Yeah. Give me a good horse and the open country and I'm a happy man."
Paul took a swig from his beer glass and Lachlan drank from his champagne flute. They leant on the balustrade side by side with their shoulders touching in a relaxed silence. They were friends from way back.
A woman's voice rang out. "Oh what a beautiful lantern moon coming up! Alexander, do come and look."
The terrace quickly filled with people coming to admire the rising moon.
"Bugger, there goes the peace and quiet," muttered Lachlan. "Let's go for a walk."
"Sure."
Lachlan removed his dinner jacket and bowtie, draped the jacket over a nearby chair and put the bowtie in its breast pocket. They descended the long curving flight of steps down into the garden. They quickly disappeared out of view of the house among the trees and tall shrubs.
Walking through the dark garden among trees and shrubs, they came to The Grove, a dense eucalyptus woodland planted about a century ago. They went in amongst the trees. Small patches of moonlight dappled the ground strewn with leaf litter and peeled bark.
Walking with Lachlan, Paul had the feeling Lachlan wanted something. Was it something to do with sex? The sudden thought got Paul quite stirred up.
Towards the eastern end of the grove away from the house they came to a small clearing filled with a thick soft carpet of long fine feathery dry grass. It was lit by patches of moonlight.
Paul walked into a large dense spider web. He grunted in surprise and brushed the strands of web off himself.
"Golden orb spiders," said Lachlan conversationally. "There are a lot around here this year. They've recently started coming out."
"Anything on me?" asked Paul.
Lachlan brushed his hands over Paul's body.
"Nup. Can't see anything," Lachlan replied.
He kept brushing his hands over Paul's body. Now he ran his hands over Paul's body feeling his big strong muscles.
Paul thought "Lockie's cracking on to me." He thought of the vision of Jesus in the church and his promise to get fucked by Scott. He decided to see how far he could get with Lachlan who seemed a much safer prospect than Drake. He thought he might try and get some practice with other men before seeing Scott.
He stretched and spread his arms delighting in the attention Lachlan was giving him. He was determined to enjoy this.
Lachlan was clearly relishing feeling all the big muscles of Paul's powerful body. Paul was getting quite excited by the prospect of sex with Lachlan.
"Would you like me to take off my shirt so you can get a better feel?" panted Paul.
"Yes, please," replied Lachlan eagerly. He was panting too.
Paul quickly unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on a nearby tree branch. He stood shirtless in front of Lachlan who immediately began running his hands over the thick bulges of Paul's big well-developed pectorals. He gleefully ran his hands over Paul's chest appreciating its muscularity.
"You've got such lovely big muscles," breathed Lachlan. "They're huge. They're glorious. I love them."
By now Paul was breathing deeply. He gasped when Lachlan started kissing his abdominal muscles. His cock was now fully erect and was uncomfortable in his tight shorts.
"Shall I take my dacks off?" he offered.
"Yeah," replied Lachlan.
With that Paul unzipped his fly, quickly removed his shorts and hung them on a branch near his shirt. He stood naked except for his socks and running shoes before Lachlan whose eyes widened when he saw Paul's stiff hard penis.
"Geez, that's one big monster of a cock you've got there!" Lachlan exclaimed.
Paul laughed. "It does."
Lachlan knelt down and ran his mouth down Paul's abdominal muscles licking them as he went. Paul was breathing hard. His balls ached with lust. The tip of his cock was grazing the underside of Lachlan's chin. He gasped when Lachlan ran his mouth along the shaft of his fully erect cock licking it.
Paul held Lachlan's head in his hands and brought Lachlan to his feet. He planted a sensuous kiss on Lachlan's lips who immediately responded by putting his arms around Paul's waist and kissing passionately.
Paul's tongue invaded Lachlan's mouth and Lachlan responded eagerly. Their tongues twisted around each other as they both became more aroused.
After several minutes Lachlan broke the kiss.
"I think I'm going to come," he said panting.
"Let's fuck," responded Paul.
"You fuck me? Up my arse? No way. I've never been fucked before. Your bloody great cock is way too big. It'd hurt too much."
"Aw." Paul made a disappointed noise.
"Tell you what," said Lachlan. "Shall I suck you off?"
"Sounds good. Yeah." Paul replied.
Lachlan quickly removed his clothes. They lay down naked together in the long fine feathery dry grass in the dappled moonlight. Paul lay on his back. He ran his hands over Lachlan's sun-tanned body appreciating its musculature.
"You're pretty muscly yourself," commented Paul. "You've got a nice strong body. I like it."
Lachlan responded by putting his mouth over Paul's erect cock and started sucking. He moved his lips up and down the length of Paul's cock driving Paul wild. At the same time he rubbed his own stiff erect cock against Paul's thickly muscled thigh. He also rubbed both his hands over Paul's belly and groin.
After about a minute Lachlan jerked, shuddered and groaned. Paul's cock fell out of his mouth. Paul felt Lachlan's warm semen shoot all over his thighs. He held Lachlan firmly against his body and gently massaged his upper back and the back of his neck while Lachlan went through the throes of his orgasm. His cock was painfully stiff. His balls ached for release.
Lachlan's ejaculation slowed to a dribble. He relaxed and then ran his hands over Paul's thighs slick with his own semen murmuring things like "Such big thighs. So much muscle. Oh, fuck, so much hot strong muscle. You're so hot, Paul. Oh fuck you're so fucking hot."
One hand moved up to Paul's groin and encountered his rock hard penis.
He looked up at Paul.
"Sorry, you haven't come yet," he said.
"No," Paul replied tersely.
"Sorry, Paul, you're so fucking hot. All those big muscles of yours are such a fucking turn-on that I couldn't help myself."
Before Paul could reply, Lachlan put his mouth over Paul's penis and started sucking. He bobbed his head moving his lips up and down the length of Paul's shaft.
Paul groaned with the stimulation. He could feel the pressure building in his groin.
The thought went through his mind that it has been a very long time since he last had an orgasm, many weeks that have passed since before his last exams at university and he came home. He had not been able to while swotting for his exams and coming to the dreadful realisation that he was simply not able to learn everything in time. He had been in a state of panic. When he had returned home, every time he had tried masturbating, which was frequently, his mother had the uncanny knack of turning up, knocking on the door and wanting to know what he was doing, whether he was in the shower or in his bedroom. His mother's appearance killed his desire stone dead for the moment but the frustration had kept building up. Now dear Lachlan was going to remedy that for him.
Paul thrust his penis up into Lachlan's eager mouth and Lachlan rode it with ease.
Paul thought that this boy knows what he is doing. He was impressed with the way Lachlan ran his lips the whole length of the shaft from the cock head to his pubic hair. Not only that but Lachlan took the whole length of Paul's cock down his throat when he buried his face in Paul's loins. The feeling was tremendously stimulating. He gasped with the intensity. He wondered briefly whether Lachlan had done this before and sucked off other men.
Then Lachlan stepped up the intensity of his stimulation by massaging Paul's perineum vigorously, the area between the balls and the arsehole.
"Harder, harder," cried Paul.
Lachlan did so. He was a little concerned that he might be hurting Paul but Paul was loving it. Paul spread his legs and wanted his perineum stimulated even more vigorously. Soon Lachlan was using most of his considerable strength to massage Paul on his perineum. Paul was almost delirious with pleasure.
The approaching orgasm blotted all thoughts from Paul's mind. He cried out as his groin contracted and he shot his load of semen into Lachlan's sucking mouth. He shot load after load of semen and Lachlan swallowed the lot. He cried out with the joy and relief as he shot the long weeks of sexual frustration down Lachlan's willing throat. The orgasm went on and on until he had emptied his balls.
As Paul was coming down off his orgasmic peak, Lachlan unloaded another fusillade of semen all over Paul's legs. His body jerked and shuddered. His mouth slackened around Paul's cock as he groaned in the intensity of another orgasm.
When both were spent, Paul relaxed on his back and put his arm around Lachlan. Naked, the two men cuddled in the dappled moonlight. Lachlan rested his head on the thick pillows of Paul's hot sweaty pectoral muscles and ran his hand up and down Paul's abdominal muscles.
"God, that was so fucking good," murmured Paul. "Thanks, Lockie, thank you so much. I needed that."
Lachlan murmured something inaudible in reply.
"Beg pardon?" asked Paul.
Lachlan lifted up his head.
"I said, the pleasure was all mine," he said with a grin. "It was indeed so fucking good."
"Thanks anyway. By the way, you've got stuff dribbling down your chin," said Paul with a laugh.
Lachlan put his head down and started kissing and worshipping Paul's abdominal muscles wiping his chin on Paul's skin as he went. He ran his kisses up and down Paul's belly. Paul groaned.
"You know, mate," he said, "I reckon I could go again. Easily."
Lachlan felt Paul's stiffening penis with his hand and laughed.
"You could too. Christ, you are a randy bastard!"
"So are you, mate. You've come twice in the one session. I'm jealous."
Lachlan laughed and said, "You know, Paul, I reckon I could just about come around to being fucked by you, but not tonight. I'm not ready for it yet. I just need to get used to the idea."
Paul lay back with a smile on his face.
"That'd be good. I'd like that," he said.
"You know, Paul, how about we do something a little different? How about ..." started Lachlan.
Paul suddenly sat bolt upright interrupting Lachlan.
"Lockie, someone's coming," he said in a low urgent voice.
Lachlan listened intently.
"You're sure?" he queried Paul. "I can't hear anything."
"Trust me, Lockie, someone is coming. I know. I just know," Paul said in the same low urgent voice. "We need to get dressed now."
He jumped to his feet and rapidly pulled on his shorts. He grabbed his shirt from the tree branch, pulled it on and quickly did up the buttons.
Spurred on by Paul's urgency, Lachlan put on his dress shirt, did up the buttons and pulled on the trousers of his dinner suit.
While he was putting on his shoes, a piercing scream rent the air followed more desperately loud screams. Lachlan hurried tied his shoelaces and jumped to his feet.
"Someone's in trouble, real trouble," said Paul quietly.
"Shit, that sounds like Cynthia," said Lachlan. "We'd better go and find out."
The screams continued unabated.
"Fuck, it sounds like she's being raped," said Lachlan. "We'd better move it."
The two men moved quickly and quietly through the trees towards the source of the continuing screams. Paul had his senses on full alert. He avoided the big spider webs that festooned the gumtrees. Lachlan followed close behind him.
"If some bastard is raping her, it'd be my great pleasure to beat the living shit out of him," growled Paul.
"You're such a big muscle man, Paul. I love you," said Lachlan.
The two men moved quickly through the grove towards the screams. They came across a figure in white thrashing her arms about and screaming in the moonlight. They ran up to her.
"It's alright, Sis, it's me, Lockie," said Lachlan taking his sister Cynthia in his arms. She sobbed hysterically into his chest.
When she had calmed down, Lachlan asked her what was the matter.
"It was a spider, one of those great big spiders," sobbed Cynthia.
Suddenly a group of security men charged into the space, surrounded the three and illuminated them with powerful electric torches. Paul saw that they were pointing semi-automatic pistols at them all.
One of them barked an order, "Raise your hands slowly and identify yourselves. Miss McBride, come and stand behind us now."
"No," pouted Cynthia and buried her tear-stained face in Lachlan's chest.
Uncertain, Paul started to raise his hands.
"Pull your heads in, men," snapped Lachlan. "I am Lachlan McBride, son of George McBride." He indicated Paul and continued, "And this is my mate Paul Hamilton-Forbes."
The security men looked uncertain. Most lowered their weapons while some kept their guns trained on the group. Paul lowered his hands again. The man who barked the orders spoke quietly into his mouthpiece.
After a brief conversation in which Paul heard mention of very short shorts, the man said, "OK, men, lower your guns but remain in position. We have a positive identification."
He started towards Lachlan and Cynthia but stopped when a tall stout woman strode in between the security men. She was followed by a group of men who were party guests.
"Just what is the meaning of this drama?" she demanded.
Paul heard one of the security men behind him mutter, "Oh fuck, here comes the Dragon Queen."
"Hullo, Aunt Sybil," said Lachlan cheerily. "It's all right. Cynthia saw a spider."
"A spider?" declared Aunt Sybil. "Cynthia, do you mean to say you were screaming fit to bust and caused all these dramatics merely because you saw a spider? Silly girl! You're a McBride, not some fatuous airhead."
Cynthia burst into tears again as she clung to her brother.
"It was horrible, Aunt Sybil," wept Cynthia. "It was so huge and it dropped on me and ran across my boobs. It was so horrible. I could feel it tickling my boobs as it went. Is it still on me?"
"I doubt that very much," was Aunt Sybil's definite reply. "I'll have a look though just to reassure you."
Paul heard the security men behind him sniggering. He saw that the security men were grinning openly.
Aunt Sybil peremptorily borrowed a torch from one of the security men and quickly inspected Cynthia's dress. She briefly examined Cynthia's cleavage.
"Nothing there, girl," she declared. "It would've abandoned ship with extreme haste. It's definitely not on you. So pull yourself together, girl."
"But it was horrible. It was a huge spider and it landed on me and it ran onto my boobs," cried Cynthia. "It was so horrible."
"It landed on you by mistake when you blundered into its web. It was driven by pure instinct, the instinct of self-preservation. You can say that it is programmed like a computer to drop to the ground when a large animal like a cow blunders into its web."
"I'm not a cow." Cynthia stamped her foot angrily.
Paul heard snickers from the security men.
"Nah, more like a heifer," muttered one.
"I did not say you were a cow, Cynthia" said Sybil sternly. "Please do me the courtesy of listening properly to me."
Cynthia pouted.
Sybil continued. "To a web spider, Cynthia, you are a large animal. No spider is programmed to differentiate between species of large mammals. It cannot tell the difference between a cow and a human. It will drop from its web regardless to preserve itself and unfortunately for you, my dear, you were standing underneath it when it dropped and it, to its misfortune, landed on you. It would have got off you again as quickly as possible."
Dr Sybil McBride held a Ph.D. in arachnology and she was a senior lecturer in the Zoology Department at the Australian National University in Canberra. She was a woman of ferocious intelligence and she was the sister of George McBride.
She shone the torch into a nearby web temporarily blinding a security man with its bright light.
"I do beg your pardon," she said airily as the man covered his eyes.
She shone the torch up into the web and examined the large spider caught in its beam.
"A fine specimen of 'Nephila edulis', an Australasian species of golden silk orb-weaver," she announced. "They do grow quite big here in the Grove. A good-sized female like these here would have a body length of about 50 millimetres (2 in.). They seem to do very well in the Grove. George did say they had bred up this year."
"They make good eating, you know," she continued. "The native peoples of Papua New Guinea consider them a delicacy. They roast them lightly over a slow fire and they taste really quite nice, a pleasantly nutty flavour with a rather crunchy texture. The last time I was in PNG, I was prevailed upon to try some. It would have been bad manners for me to refuse but I was pleasantly surprised when I ate some.
"Ugh." Cynthia shuddered in disgust.
A well-built middle-aged man with a trimmed full beard and wearing a rumpled dark red corduroy jacket came through the line of security men and up to the group.
"Is everything all right, my dear?" he asked.
"Yes, darling, all is well," replied Sybil. "Cynthia just had a spider drop on her and give her a fright, that's all."
"Hi, Uncle Rupert," said Lachlan cheerfully. "We're fine now, thanks."
"Oh good. I'm glad to hear it," replied Rupert. "Look, I'd better let poor old George and Myrtle know. They're absolutely beside themselves with worry. They think that something dreadful has happened to their daughter and the security people won't let them go. They said it was too dangerous."
He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and said, "I'll just let them know that everything is all right after all."
"Don't bother, darling," said Sybil. "Save yourself the phone call. These young men with their electronic communications equipage should be able to get the message through."
She strode over to the leader of the security detail, the man who had barked the orders earlier, and spoke to him. He had a conversation with his mouthpiece and earpiece. He spoke with Sybil.
Sybil returned and said, "Message gratefully received and Myrtle says that supper is being served in the ballroom."
She addressed the security men.
"Gentlemen, I see that you have enjoyed tonight's little drama. You may resume your normal duties."
The men melted into the darkness.
Uncle Arthur came up to the group along with the other people who had come down from the house. He was somewhat out of breath.
"I'm glad to see everything's all right," he puffed.
"Yes, Arthur, the show is over," replied Sybil.
"Good. All's well that ends well."
"And Myrtle has just passed the message that supper is being served in the ballroom."
"Good. We may as well all head back up there then."
"Good old Myrtle," said Sybil. "One can depend on her to do her duty as the perfect hostess. Her daughter may be being raped and murdered but the show must go on. She goes ahead and ensures that everything proceeds as it should and that supper is served on time."
"Hang on, Sybil," protested Arthur. "That's my sister you are talking about. You are being awfully hard on her."
"And she's my brother's dear wife. Arthur, you know me. I do enjoy having a little dig at her occasionally."
"Hmm. I have noticed."
Sybil turned her attention to Paul and looked him up and down.
"I'm glad to see a young man with the courage to be different," she said. "Most young people are so conformist these days."
"Don't encourage him," sniffed Arthur.
"Dear me, Arthur, you're just as conservative as ever."
Arthur snorted. "Well, you were the student radical when we were young. I had real doubts about George when he started getting serious with my sister Myrtle because his sister was such an out-spoken student activist. But it turned out that the rest of his family were sound. You were the odd one out."
"And you, Arthur, were such a stuffy young law student always neatly attired in a jacket and tie. Those were the days at Sydney University in the 60s, the Vietnam Moratorium Campaign, student rights, women's rights, aboriginal rights. Yes, I remember our demonstrations against the American President then. That was Lyndon B. Johnson back in 1966. Our bloody Prime Minister at the time, Harold Holt, said 'All the way with LBJ'. That was disgusting. Like we Australians were expected to lie on our backs and wave our vaginas and arseholes at the Americans for them to come and fuck us over. And the premier of New South Wales then, that bloody idiot Robin Askin, gave the order to his chauffeur to 'Run over the bastards.' And our young men were being conscripted and compelled to go and fight and die in Vietnam. And the bloody Liberal government in Canberra were still mouthing the irrelevant platitudes of the Menzies era. Do you wonder why we were so angry?"
"That was a disgusting exhibition I thought, you whipping up the other students with your loudhailer, disrupting the US President, demonstrating constantly and doing things like holding a sit-in in the University Vice-Chancellor's office."
Sybil snorted with derision. Lachlan was grinning from ear to ear watching the argument between his aunt and uncle. He knew it was an old one. Even Cynthia managed to crack a faint smile.
Sybil turned to Paul.
"You do look faintly familiar," she remarked.
"Aunt Sybil, you remember Paul Hamilton-Forbes, don't you?" put in Lachlan still smiling.
"Goodness me! So it is! My word, Paul, you're lot bigger now than when I last saw you. I think you must have been about thirteen then. I suppose you get sick of people telling you how much you've grown."
"I get used to it," replied Paul with a wry smile.
"You certainly have grown into a fine specimen of manhood, Paul. I do appreciate a good strong man with lots of muscle. I'm planning an expedition next year to Papua New Guinea to collect spiders from the top of Mount Wilhelm in the Bismarck Range. I need some porters to carry all our equipment because the local people will simply refuse. They believe that they will anger the mountain spirits who will do nasty things to them like make all their pigs die. I'm looking for some big strong reliable young Australian men to carry all our stuff up the mountain. Would you be available then? I won't be able to pay you much if at all. That depends on the grant money available. However, it would be a wonderful experience for you. What are your plans for next year?"
Paul hesitated. "Well, I don't know what my plans for next year are. Look, I have to think about it but I can't make any promises now."
"I understand. I'm not even sure yet that the expedition will get off the ground. I hope I find out soon. If you do decide to join us, just let us know closer to the time. Your assistance would be much appreciated."
She turned to Lachlan.
"What about you, Lachlan? Would you be interested?"
"It sounds bloody good but I'm fairly sure that Mum and Dad won't let me go," said Lachlan.
"Shall I talk to them?"
"Er, maybe not. I reckon I'm going to have to break the idea to them gently if I'm going to have a ghost of a chance."
"That's the spirit, my boy," said Arthur. "A spirit of adventure is much to be encouraged in the young. Don't worry, Lachlan. You can rely on my utmost discretion in the matter."
"Thanks."
They arrived on the terrace. Lachlan retrieved his dinner jacket and they joined the throng and making its way into the ballroom where supper was being served.
Myrtle met them near the door.
"Cynthia, just what were you doing in The Grove?" she demanded to know. "You know it's full of spiders at this time of the year and you do carry on so when you see one."
"Lockie and Paul had gone in there and I wanted to see what they were up to," replied Cynthia in a small voice.
"Silly girl," said Myrtle dismissively. She turned to Lachlan and Paul.
"Lachlan, what do you think you're doing goofing off with your mate when your duty is to stay here and help look after the guests? Don't do it again, please."
"Aw, Mum."
"Don't aw mum me," said Myrtle sternly as she wagged her finger at him. "Don't go goofing off again, do you understand?"
"Don't be too hard on him, Myrtle dear," said Sybil. "Lachlan was a great help to Cynthia in her hour of need."
"Hmpf!" was Myrtle's reply.
Sybil smirked as Myrtle stalked off in the direction of the supper table.
"Well, lads, grub's up," said Sybil. "We'd better go and get some. I'm sure big strong young men like you are getting hungry by now."
'Grub' was a splendid collection of neatly arranged foods ranging from hors d'oeuvres, frankfurts on toothpicks, dim sims and small party pies and pasties through chicken drumsticks, assorted dips, biscuits and a bewildering array of cheeses to cakes, pastries, fruit salad, assorted fruits and ice cream.
Paul and Lachlan helped themselves. Paul got himself a glass of beer while a waiter presented Lachlan with a champagne flute.
When Paul returned from the bar with a second glass of beer, he saw that Lachlan was engaged in conversation with a couple of middle-aged men. As he approached, one of the men cast a disapproving look in Paul's direction. Paul changed course.
He saw George McBride having an earnest conversation with his sister Sybil.
George said, "Sybil, my dear, Arthur tells me you're planning an expedition to Papua-New Guinea next year to collect spiders again."
"That's right, George," replied his sister.
"Do be careful this time please. The last time you went, you insulted some PNG government minister and caused a diplomatic incident."
"That man was a bloody pig-headed fool! He deserved everything he got!"
"Well, this time please be careful. Last time you insulted the man grievously and quite unnecessarily. If you cause another diplomatic incident I'll probably have to resign my post in the Howard Government because of the ruckus you cause."
Paul thought to himself with a wry smile, "The argument continues."
He found himself taking rather a liking to Sybil McBride.
He moved on. He passed a group of men where Drake was holding forth.
He heard Drake say, "Lachlan McBride is quite a cutie. He looks like he might have potential."
"Is he that gorgeous blond hunk in the dinner suit who looks like a broad-shouldered version of the young Brad Pitt?" asked one of the other men.
"He is indeed," replied Drake.
"I must say, he does look like Brad Pitt when he plays Joe Black in the film 'Meet Joe Black', don't you think?" offered the man.
"Except Lachlan McBride has broader shoulders and bigger muscles," stated Drake. "I agree though that there's quite a resemblance."
"Who's that big hunky muscle dude in the white micro-shorts over there all alone?" asked a second man. "The one with the thighs and the power bulge."
"Ooh, he is indeed tres hunky!" exclaimed a third. "I do like the look of him."
"Hullo, handsome," came from behind Paul.
-------------------------------------- Continued in Part 65. --------------------------------------