After the destruction of Cyclone Tracey, modern Darwin transformed into a beautiful and tropical cosmopolitan city. Darwinism, the theory of evolution that includes human behaviour, is not nearly as pretty. Its basic principles continue to shape the way we think and interact. Many men still regard women as sex objects and many women tend to regard men as objects of success and security. This shallow, stereotypical behaviour makes evolutionary sense but clouds the interaction between men and women.
Neither Alex nor Jed fit the usual pattern. They sit opposite each other after dinner under the palms on a verandah restaurant, looking out over the harbour. They are mellowed by good food, a pleasant wine and the sweet satisfaction only success in a high stakes endeavour can bring. A gentle cooling breeze whispers in from the bay and plays with the strands of hair falling over her left eye. Her eyes remain a contradiction of the dark shadows Jed has noted before as well as the sparkles of life and humour that flare unpredictably.
Jed’s apparent contentment hides unresolved tension. He is struggling and the wine isn’t helping. He is aware of her sensuality, but the attraction he feels runs deeper. It is an ephemeral mix of womanhood, intelligence, strength, gritty determination, humour and mystery mixed with a hint of vulnerability. It is only day three of their venture. Already he is wishing that women came with handling notes like Delta Tango Romeo. How about a book titled,
Handling Women for Male Dummies
? It would be a bestseller if it was ever written.
Jed eyes her thoughtfully. He will never admit it, but he fantasises about her. If he could only get past the armour she has built around her, but the threat of that cursed Skyraider keeps obliterating his intentions.
“How are you feeling?” he asks gently, aiming to build on the insight he discovered only this morning.
“Elated? Excited? Amazed? I can’t believe what we saw under the trees! It was so surreal. A plane! His plane! I never really believed it was possible, but it is real. How will we get to it? We must make sure it’s the right one.”
She sits in a relaxed pose, legs crossed and elbows resting on the arms of the chair, cradling a glass of wine between her fingers. Her left leg is crossed over her right, the foot moving sensually in a small arc as she flexes the muscles in her leg. Jed admires her under the influence of good food and wine. He runs his eyes casually from the end of her foot, up her leg and waist to her face, where their eye contact lingers for a few seconds.
Society casts a cold eye on ogling and has no flattering term for it. In the wrong circumstances it can be seen as threatening, not the prelude to flirting. A man game enough to keep up the eye contact after being discovered just may have the courage to be worth getting to know. Alexander notes the reflection and respect in his gaze and is not offended, although she would like to see a replay of his thoughts.
“We have to get there on foot Alex. We could take a helicopter, but I doubt things would stay secret for long. You can guarantee souvenir hunters would be there in a flash and start stripping it. Tomorrow we can get some camping gear and get on the road the day after. How badly do you want to get there?” His tone contains a hint of evaluation. They are close to the goal and the last thing he wants is to be held back by someone who can’t take it.
She senses that he is judging her. She doesn’t like being judged by anyone and feels herself slipping into challenge mode. “Camping!” she exclaims. Adding teasingly, “The very least I need is one of those camper trailer things with a four-room tent, one for me, one for you, one for dining and one with hot water and flushing amenities.” She watches carefully as something starts to boil inside him that he struggles to keep in check.
He is so easy to play there is almost no fun in it!
“I’ve always been happy with a swag and a billy of tea! If you want a mansion I can arrange it!” he replies, still missing the glint of humour in her eyes.
Why does everything have to be so bloody difficult? A camper trailer with annexes! Putting that up every damn night!
Then he sees her watching him carefully with a steady gaze. She’s watching, waiting for a reaction! Suddenly he gets that he is being played. He is a bloody slow dimwit!
Relax boy, just relax
, he chides himself. Now understanding the rules of the game he decides to play along.
“Okay, we’ll get a palace for you Alex and I’ll do the floor,” he agrees, testing her reaction.
She eyes him carefully, judging how far he can be pushed. “Can I have one of those blow-up double mattresses and a pump?”
“That’s actually a good idea. It’ll keep you off the ground so you won’t be plagued by the Kalkarindii Desert Bug. It’s a nasty little brute that lives in the red sand and loves to crawl into warm, damp places to lay its eggs. When the larvae hatch they like to nibble on fresh, living flesh while they transform…” He sees the look of humour driving the shadows away, bringing sparkles to her eyes. “Hope I’m not putting you off Alex?” he asks, feigning concern.
“Oh come on!” she says, leaving no doubt she finds the idea ridiculous. “Anything else?”
“Not much to worry about I guess. Bound to be crocs, but if we camp back from any water they shouldn’t bother us too much. The wild pigs can get a bit agro and like to get active at night, but that won’t be a problem as we’ll be asleep. Best to take an empty can to bed though in case the bladder needs release. The snakes like to hunt at night when the ground is cooler so it doesn’t pay to go walking around in the dark.” That has some truth in summer, but he isn’t going to clarify that detail.
The look of disbelief is faltering a little so he adds a bit more, “The ticks are real bastards! Burrow right in and carry all sorts of diseases. We may have to wash ourselves down with tropical-strength Aerogard.”
“Ticks!” Now she looks genuinely worried.
This is good; he relishes her discomfort. Her eyes are very attractive enlarged with concern. How much mileage can he get out of this? “Don’t worry Alex. We can hire another vehicle to carry all the gear. We can drive one each. A cook won’t go astray as we’ll be busy erecting the camp and blowing up the mattresses every night. It’ll be great to sit down to a meal after all that exertion.” He studies her, trying hard to stay serious but the trace of a smile finally escapes.
She notices it and gives a chuckle. “Okay, you win that one! You may be a principal but you can be a right devilish bastard! I’m glad to see you’re not as boring as I thought you could be.” The mischievous sparkle has returned to her eyes.
He recognises a variety of possible meanings behind her comment, but suppresses the images. “By the end of this trip, that devil has to go back in the box because I go back to work. The conservative mask has to go back on.” A hint of regret lies behind his words. He knows his adventurous escapes are a means for his real self to experience brief freedom.
“Let’s make the most of it then! Here’s to you,” she announces, picking up her glass to clink against his. “Congratulations. Whether it was sheer arse or not, you did it! Thanks.”
They enjoy the wine as they eye each other appraisingly. He thinks she is really something but the next few days will really test her out. She is obviously good in her world but how will she cope with the unforgiving realities of the Australian outback?
Jed is willing to give the search for the aircraft a go. It will certainly be exciting and bloody hard. Just the way he likes it. She says she wants to find this plane, but from experience it is never an easy thing to do in practice. “Let’s go to bed,” he announces, standing and walking off to their rooms. He senses she isn’t behind him, turns around and sees her standing, hip out and arms crossed, eyes narrowed to points of steel. “Our separate beds!” he corrects with instantaneous awareness. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Let’s go then,” she agrees, happy she has taken the opportunity to make a stand.
He walks alongside Alex to their rooms, acutely aware of her, but wary of her unfathomable and unpredictable behaviour.
This is going to be a repetition of last night!
he decides.
Neither will admit it, but each is aware of the tension between them. They arrive at his door and stand in front of it, facing each other.
He could slice the atmosphere with his Mulay survival knife. He wants to lean forward to kiss her, but hesitates. What will she think of him? Never has he felt so aroused, so ready for the intimacy of intercourse, but still he waits. He fears such a move could spell disaster.
She waits for him to lean forward and kiss her, but he doesn’t. The tension is palpable and connects them like a condom stretched to its absolute maximum. The moment intensifies and she feels herself closing her eyes. He leans toward her when they are interrupted by the sound of a door slamming further up the corridor. They stop and look at each other in shocked silence, until finally a husky, “Goodnight,” escapes his lips.
Stepping back, they go into their separate rooms.
Jed leans against the door and curses. What was he doing? He almost gave in and she’ll think he is just another prick after sex, or worse, that he has the seduction techniques of a hairy gibbon.
He would have loved to know that behind her closed door Alex holds her head in her hands in frustration. Bloody hell the chemicals flooding her system felt so electrifying that she swore they couldn’t be legal!
What got into me
! Her weakness in that moment is a new feeling. But how does she handle it?
In the safety of their rooms, they throw their clothes off and climb into bed, each cursing their weakness and wondering about the Pandora’s Box they are on the verge of opening.
The morning is spent hiring camping gear and stocking up on supplies. The four-room tent doesn’t get a look in, replaced by two swags and extra sleeping mats. Maybe they won’t all be needed but Jed is used to fly camping overnight on hunting trips so extra light gear is a habit. Alex is more of a camper than she let on. It all packs easily into the Landcruiser and then they go their separate ways. Jed heads out to the military museum on East Point and the Darwin Museum while Alex says she needs, “Girl time.”
Who knows what girl time means?
Jed wonders,
Shopping, hairdressers, beauty parlour, whatever
! They will meet at the bar for a drink at seven and then a meal, before leaving Darwin behind the next day.
Jed makes an effort dressing up for the night, although he doesn’t have a lot to choose from. Black trousers, the same black R. M. Williams boots given a good polish and a white shirt has to do it. The unbuttoned shirt exposes his Maori hook necklace with the blue paua shell insert. He checks himself in the mirror, wondering about the hook.
Stuff it! That’s me
, and walks out the door.
He finds Alex in the bar, checks his watch to see it was only two minutes past seven and already there are three men hovering around her. The live band has started and is pumping out some 80s music as background. He walks up just in time to hear the guy with the suit and grey hair turn to one of the men and ask whether he would mind if he has a dance with his wife.
For fuck’s sake, his wife!
They are just hangers on, drawn to her like moths to a candle and she is making the most of it, feeding them the eyes and the upturned look and…
What the!
He hears the most sultry, sexy southern American drawl he has ever heard!
“… and what is a woman to do on these hot, sultry nights when all you want to do is slide under a sheet soaked in ice water, cooling the skin but firing the soul.”
The stranger grabs her hand and leads her onto the dance floor. Jed gets a drink and watches the guy try to handle her.
Bloody poor effort! She can do a lot better than that!
He comes back just as the song finishes. He tries to break into the group but she ignores him, pandering to her group of admirers as they commiserate with her about the heat.
“But this isn’t hot!” advises the weed with the white shirt buttoned up to the second last hole with a beer in his hand. “Wait till the wet season, the sweat will be dripping off you!” he offers as his contribution to the conversation.
Alex puts her fingers to the side of her face, runs them down her neck and diagonally across her chest above her breasts. “This seems hot enough to start fires,” she drawls in that sultry southern accent. Jed tries to butt in but everyone ignores him, so he waits patiently for an opportunity.
“Do you know this guy?” says the man Grey Hair thinks is her husband.
“No, I don’t think so,” Alex replies, looking Jed straight in the eye. “Do I know you?” she asks, perching on the stool with her legs crossed as she leans on the bar.
What’s she doing?
Jed puts his mind to the problem.
PMT,
he wonders?
No, can’t be. She had that just yesterday or was it the day before? Maybe women get it in unexpected ways? I bloody haven’t done anything to upset her!
He reviews the night before and then dismisses it.
All they did was almost kiss goodnight and she started it so that can’t be a problem.
What next?
Maybe she likes having men buzz around like bees to a honey pot? What does it matter to me? She means nothing to me other than this job opportunity. Or does she? He knows there is a reason for her behaviour. He’s just not sure what it is.
“Sorry guys, just a tourist looking for company,” he says in an icy tone, looking straight into her eyes.
My, my,
Alex observes smugly.
I think he’s pissed off! I think I like that. Or do I?
She considers the problem with no answer in sight.
A waitress comes looking for a booking in the name of Mitchell so he takes the opportunity to claim the table and orders a bottle of champagne. The frustration is still playing around inside him as he scans the décor of the room. He peruses the menu absentmindedly a few times until Alex eventually comes over and sits down. He doesn’t stand or offer to pull her chair out.
“You joining me for dinner?” he asks politely.
“Yes.” The southern accent is gone.
“Have you finished with the fan club?”
“Yes.”
He looks at her over the menu and studies the fathomless expression on her face. “Would you like a champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
He pours her a drink and sits back to look at her. They are both travelling light, so she must have been to a shop. Her vest looks tailored and her short tartan skirt is teamed with black stockings and black high heels. Her only jewellery is a delicate gold necklace nestled just below her throat. Very simple as individual pieces, but stunning in combination. No wonder the men were circling. “We leave tomorrow. I repacked all the gear we need. Are you ready for it?”
“Yes,” she replies, sipping the champagne.
This will be a great meal. The conversation is going to be riveting!
She looks at him while sipping the champagne. His shirt is open, exposing just a small area of chest with the necklace nestled in black, curly chest hair. She can detect a hint of his aftershave, a mix of sweat, jungle and attitude that makes the busy bees from a few minutes before seem like children in a playground.
“Your outfit looks expensive,” he offers.
“It does. It isn’t.”
This is going wonderfully,
he decides sarcastically.
The crickets in the scrub clicking away at dusk will be more fun! Can I take a few nights of this?
At times she strikes him as the kind of woman who could take a cold shower in winter and stand outside naked in the breeze to dry off. “Where did you buy it? It looks classy for Darwin, although I guess I shouldn’t put down the taste of Territory women,” he offers again.
“It’s amazing what you can find in a Vinnie’s store,” she replies as she sips the champagne.
Good heavens! A complete sentence!
Jed sees some hope the evening won’t be a complete stuff up. But what is he supposed to say next? How are you feeling? No, used that one before
.
He sips the champagne to buy time and decides to take a gamble.
“It shows off your best features to perfection.” Jed waits, ready to duck or run but she smiles back at him.
“Which are?” she replies, an open challenge.
“Which are what?” He thinks he’s onto something, but not exactly sure what.
“My best features?” she challenges, her eyes not blinking as they stare back into his.
This is going to be good.
Damn! Trying to be smart opens a mine field! What now?
He thinks back to a time when his aircraft had an engine failure over King Island. He decides he’d rather be back there than here and now.
Thank heavens for champagne!
He takes another long and slow sip as he collects his thoughts and weighs up the options.
“The vest and skirt show off your figure discreetly and tastefully, but don’t hide your assets. The shoes and stockings highlight the lines of your legs…
Watch it!
he warns himself … particularly when you dance. I get the impression you are a woman with taste who knows exactly what she wants.” The champagne is starting to get to him. Bloody bubbles and no food! He feels his mouth opening to verbalise a thought and can’t stop it. “When you walk, and particularly when you stand with your weight on your left hip and your right foot out at an angle, it suggests a question like: Are you sure you want to fuck with me?”
My God! Did I just say that out loud?
He waits for the napalm strike, but nothing happens. The stillness drags on. It is like sitting in the eye of a cyclone.
She looks back at him without expression, but he can tell she is thinking something through.
They eye each other intensely, suddenly becoming aware of a presence standing next to their table. “Are you ready to order?” asks the young waitress, hovering expectantly with her pad and pencil. Jed feels a wave of relief wash over him—he has avoided that one only by divine intervention or sheer luck. He doesn’t care which!
Alex breaks the lingering tension. “Garlic bread, the seafood combination, a Greek salad and coffee to follow,” she responds immediately without looking at the menu. “And a bottle of the Clare Valley Riesling please.” She is hungry and has already checked out what is on offer.
Jed has only glanced at the menu but isn’t going to give in and finish looking, so he takes a stab. “The steak, large, medium rare, pepper sauce and vegetables. Coffee after, thank you.”
The waitress sensing the atmosphere, aware she has interrupted something, scurries off to take care of the order.
“He couldn’t dance!” Alex offers.
Jed knows she is referring to Grey Hair. “He had no rhythm and no idea what to do with you. That was a good track, one of my favourites, and he stuffed it.”
“Perhaps you should have asked me!” she fires back.
“As if I could get a bloody word in! I may as well have been a gecko clinging to the wall. Besides, I would have had to ask your ‘husband’ for permission!”
“He was simply the first one there and the other two just assumed. You didn’t seem to try very hard,” she needles.
Aah
, he concludes,
I was supposed to react to the little road show
. “Perhaps I should have punched him out!”
“Which one? The ‘husband’, the dancer or the hanger on who fantasised about having sex?”
Jed almost gags on his champagne.
“Actually they all fantasised about having sex with me, but here we are having dinner together.”
Thankfully, they are interrupted again by the waitress bringing the wine and pouring a glass each before leaving them alone.
“Maybe I should have punched them all out then asked you to dance, but I couldn’t do that because I’m a pillar of society and it wouldn’t fit the image.”
“Shame,” she says with a quizzical expression. “Who knows where it may have led!”
“The lock up probably and you’d be loose on the town again.”
She smiles sweetly. “I’d come back and bail you out, eventually.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t do lock ups very well.”
“How do you know?”
He isn’t going to answer but is saved by the food arriving.
She leaves the question hanging, recognising a no-go area. Their repartee has lessened the tension and they eat in a companionable silence broken by small talk, until Jed senses the opportunity to raise a topic that still holds his curiosity.
“How did you meet Chelavenki?” he asks without warning.
“Through a mutual acquaintance,” she replies vaguely. “He was doing some investment work and I met him at a seminar. We got on well and he was able to do something for me.”
“Financial advice?” Jed probes.
“Yes and no. I needed something and he had the contacts to supply it outside the normal sources.”
Knowing Chelavenki, that can cover a lot of things,
Jed considers.
She gets clothes from Vinnie’s and sources things through Chelavenki. The lady is a continuing mystery.
He senses it is a no-go area for her.
“When I started my little quest to find Karl’s plane,” Alex continues, “I got back in touch with him. He spoke highly of you and here we are.”
Here they are indeed. He is sitting opposite a woman, a conundrum. She is a fortress surrounded by an impenetrable wall, from behind which radiates random bursts of pulsating sensuality. She is intelligent, sharp, tough and determined but also emotional, sensitive and vulnerable underneath the shield, with the potential to unleash a blast of napalm or a gentle caress without warning. He knows there is an explanation for the mixture but can’t yet connect the dots.
They finish the coffee and agree it is time to retire, settling the bill and walking back to their rooms. This time Jed is determined to avoid the shambles of the last two nights. They walk past a balcony and he invites her out to see the lights of the harbour as the moon reflects off the water. He stands behind her as she faces the view. His eyes run down along the line of her neck and shoulder. She feels him behind her and knows he isn’t admiring the harbour view.
He’s about to run his fingers down along her neck when she turns to face him, looking up into his eyes. This time he takes command. Throwing caution to the wind, he leans forward and kisses her gently on the lips, so gently it feels like the faintest touch of a summer breeze on the night air. The second touch is just as gentle. He leans in for a third time, ever so lightly touching his tongue with hers. He feels her flinch with shock as his own body shivers in response. Her aroma wafts over him. He may have only milliseconds before being flattened, but doesn’t care until he realises she isn’t kissing him back. What has he done wrong this time? Jed is flying blind in a strange aircraft with no handling notes.
In the last two days Alex has experienced so much—flying, shooting, dinner, exploration, intellectual engagement and discovery. Foreplay beyond description! She is fighting her emotions, instinct crying out to slap him but she can’t make it happen. It has been too long since those feelings were given recognition. Jed’s kiss is stirring half-forgotten passion, but she is frozen by fear and the memory of her past. She instinctively breaks the contact.
Jed steps away from her, puzzled and lost. “Goodnight, Alex,” he says in a strong voice, although huskier than he likes. “I may see you for breakfast.” Then he turns and walks away to his room.
She watches him leave, not moving for a long time. It has been seven long years. Is it time to dismantle the wall or is it safer to let things be? She has no idea.