Chapter 22
Changing Times
Don’s social life improved since he obtained a car license and rid expectations of past acquaintances becoming friends. Once he was discouraged by life’s obstacles, but now he wanted change, and finding new confidences allowed acceptance for his own potential downfalls; and enlightenment from past experiences helped forge introductions to mingle with a wider-ranging class of people. His life was less burdensome and participation in a variety of sporting clubs improved his social status and conveyed the impression of a brooding outsider turning extrovert; life seemed to be changing. But the more he interacted with others, and in self-awareness of his own traits, he ascertained he was not gregarious in nature at all, and far from the extrovert; the change was all a subconscious masquerade to pacify his inhibitions. Truth was he enjoyed his own company more-so than when with others. If direct encounter was necessary he preferred it to be between himself and only one other person. It was a strain searching for what was a hollow longing to circulate within crowds, and when the situation presented itself it was easier to be a listener than a talker.
On one fine morning he went into town to buy a pair of shoes. When he walked into the shop fate presented him with a chance meeting with a past contact; it was Cardinia. When he first noticed her he was uncomfortable and self-effacing, prompting a hasty retreat towards the exit, but her recognition of him was immediate and promptly foiled his escape. As any a good shop assistant would, she asked if he needed help in selecting shoes. He thought she would abase his reputation by criticizing him regarding their first encounter, but it was the opposite, she was polite in the exchange of greetings and made him feel at ease. Don could not stop lecherous mannerisms, his eyes were scanning the fineness of her features and his infantile stammering was a timid response to her confidence and beauty; she looked even nicer than he remembered. Her breasts and legs were magnificent, surpassed only by her charm and magnetism; she was well aware of his sentiments. Being around the same age helped them to quickly develop a good-humoured relationship and while she fit him into a pair of shoes they shared a giggle and reminisced teasingly about their first meeting. Don purchased the shoes and on payment she let him know it was her seventeenth birthday on the weekend coming, she asked;
“Would you like to come to my place for my seventeenth party?” He had a strong attraction to her and sensed the feeling was mutual. He was delighted to respond in the positive;
“Yeah. Really? Fantastic.” She gave him the address and his enthusiasm was stimulated by the congeniality of her disposition;
“I would love to see you there.”
“What do you want me to bring; food; drinks; or anything?”
“No,” she replied. “There’ll be plenty of food and soft drink there.”Don’s face squirmed in vagueness to what he considered a misapprehension of his question. He wanted to make clear his meaning;
“Do you want me to bring beer or wine?”
“Nooo,” she answered adamantly opposed. “My parents won’t allow alcohol. And they don’t drink or smoke.” Don revelled in drinking beer and considered a party not to be a party without alcohol because it worked to suppress his many barriers when in the company of others; and produced acceptable thoughts and desires making his conversation more relaxed and informal, but he had to conform to her anti-grog rules and agreed;
“Okay. Thanks. See you there. Bye.” He made his way out with a smile, a happy nod in appreciation, and new shoes.
His precocious taste for beer was insatiable. He thought: ‘I can’t go without beer. Christ I can’t even string a coherent sentence together with one person without an inebriant to foster some ‘Dutch courage’, let alone converse effectively in a crowd of strange people.’ Before the party he purchased cans of ‘KB’ and devoured a couple before placing the remaining nine in an ‘Esky’in the boot of his car. When he arrived at Cardinia’s house he parked outside for a minute or two and sank another beer to build courage before entry. People filled the front porch bordering a dirty old green fibro home, others swarmed in groups on the inside, and some congregated on the front lawn. After standing, leaning on the roof of his car for a while, weak-kneed at the thought of going in, he locked the car and faked a swagger up the front path; with him went the sufferance of a guilty conscience. He had no idea why he was feeling this way because he had done no wrong except for being slightly under the influence; normality in his world. Yet paranoiac tendencies took control and he felt the judgmental stares of everyone stinging his character. In two minds to continue or turn around and go home he saw Cardinia and grabbed her attention with a wave across the yard, she flapped her hand in response while pushing through the crowd to fix a beeline towards him; she welcomed him enthusiastically. He gave her a peck on the cheek, wished her a happy birthday and was acknowledged his sentiment with a ‘thank you’ and a smile of acceptance. Her perfume had an extra pleasant fragrance never before smelt; he hoped it was powerful enough to absorb the pong of alcohol on his breath. There were no comments to say otherwise, yet. She pointed out the location of the food, the ‘lolly water’, and her parents, and continued with idle, nonsensical chat. Don was mesmerized by her beauty and hardly heard a word over his romantic fantasies.
She wore a short yellow skirt with a white top. Inscribed on the front of the shirt was, ‘Want A Bit’, and underneath a large arrow pointing horizontally. Don turned her around to see the rest of the message which was partly obscured by her long shiny dark hair, he brushed it to one side to reveal a picture of an apple pie with a missing portion; not what he was expecting but it stimulated trivial drivel and folly in pleasantries. As she turned back around and gazed at him with her big beautiful brown eyes she said;
“Happy now!” Don smirked as she walked away and up the porch steps revealing more of those sensational legs ending in a scanty pair of white knickers. Don liked what he saw very much. She returned with a soft drink;
“Would you like a drink?” He declined;
“No thanks,” but took it anyway, and was on the verge of asking her if she would like something a bit more potent when an interruption by her ‘Dracula’ faced mother, sounding like a ‘foghorn’, bellowed for everyone to gather around for the traditional cake cutting and speech giving rituals.
Her parents looked very old. He was a lean, sickly looking man who gave impression of a real ’bastard’. His attire was of an old ‘cow cocky’ type style, reinforced by his wrinkled face and deeply sunk eyes; they were buried so deeply into their cavities they made extra protrusive his nose arch. Don thought to himself: ‘Cardinia certainly did not get her looks from them.’ And he was right. Later down the track she told Don;
“The old prick is not my father, he’s my stepfather. My real father died in a work related accident when I was just eight.” Don guessed as much, there was not likeness at all between them, but why her mother was even worse looking than him was confusing; sadly they were a reflection of each other’s ugliness. Don imagined, rooting the mother would be like wrapping your arms around a cactus plant; very unpleasant. He learnt they were very strict with Cardinia, maybe this was necessary because of her sex appeal, and he guessed an understandable reaction in view of his memories of her and Kolora visiting his home recently. Still, it was obvious by her garb she demanded independence. With the monotony of the drawn out ceremonial address taking place Don absconded briefly with the cordial drink in hand. He sat in his car, defenestrated the sugary liquid onto the road, replenished the container with beer and returned to the ongoing speeches. There were a few trips back and forth to the car to refill causing his personality to change into a loquacious jokester; such comical jabber showed Cardinia another side of him, it added insight to the depth of his intoxicating hilarity; and amazingly increased his allurement.
As the night grew long, the exchange of formal pleasantries came to an end and the effects of the alcohol were wearing off; he returned somewhat to the slow-witted character of before. On noticing the dining table inside the house offered room for birthday presents, for which Don did not contribute, thoughts of decency sought amends so he decided to approach Cardinia to apologise for his failure to buy a present. After weaving his way through the thinning crowd he tapped her on the shoulder and a nervous impediment induced involuntary stutter;
“Ha, ha, happy Birthday. S,s,sorry I forgot to buy a present. I’ll get you one. I’ll ge,get, something tomorrow.” She was not taking much notice because she was still intermittingly jawing with the remaining guests, when eventually turning to thank him for coming she leaned in and approached with a kiss on his cheek, then gawked at him strangely, and with great olfactory perception, or maybe from her own acquaintances with beer, she stated;
“You’ve been drinking, I can smell it.” With modest reservations because he considered the effects to be absorbed, he slurred;
“A couple of beers. That’s all, only a few.”
“Please don’t let my parents smell it,” she requested. “They’ll hit the roof.” A little down in the dumps because his actions could blow his chances with her, he responded;
“Sorry. I had better go then.” She held his face in the palm of her hands and pressed her lips against his cheek giving it another light peck;
“No don’t go. Hang around, but don’t go near my parents. Wait around ‘till everyone’s gone.” Don did just that. At first he was expecting a bollocking and would have lacked intellectual acuity in response to any tongue-lashing. Happy with her words he guessed the best thing to do was concur; stay and count his blessings.
He was not a tragic dipsomaniac, far from it, and reckoned he boozed enough for the present time. So, while waiting he wandered for the next hour listening to senseless dribble from the slow departing company. It was getting late, and being the last man standing he was intrigued as to the reason for her prior instruction to stay, after all there were a lot of boys her age in attendance and it was plain to any moron they all wanted to woo her. When the last guest went home she talked to Don while her parents tidied up in ready for bed. She was a very erotic person, this caused Don to flounder in mental concentration giving way to the physical attraction he felt for her; her prose became monotonic to his ears due to the distractions of his urges. Then she broke his place of enchantment with a loud request;
“Mum; is it alright if Don sleeps on the lounge tonight? I’m not tired and now it’s nice and quiet we want to sit and chat for a while?” With her back facing her parents she asked Don softly;
“You can stay can’t you? Do you want to?”
“For a while,” he whispered in reply. Her father was now in bed and her mother was putting things away in the hallway wardrobe, she responded sluggishly with a tone of incertitude;
“Yes, okay, the blankets are in the lining-press. Don’t stay up long.” Cardinia brought a couple of blankets and a pillow from the cupboard and sat on the lounge next to him.
“I can’t really stay all night,” he explained. “My parents are expecting me home.” Without answer she snuggled in close. Don was on a euphoric high, but a little worried because her parents had just gone to bed. Although they were around the corner from the hallway and out of view he did not want to be admonished by them on his first visit, or worst still, physically incapacitated by her mad-looking father.
The attraction between the two was sincere and the temptation for Don towards her irresistible and overpowering personality made him ‘putty in her hands’. He put his arm around her and with affectionate play they engaged in kissing. Don’s genitals reacted spur-of-momentarily; the warm tingling feeling of romance set a spell over him like never before: ‘She’s different to the others,’ he thought. His hands started wandering to fondle her legs and breasts, and conformable by her responsive petting raised his hopes to experience raging sexual titillations. Further exploration with his fingers slid in the side of her panties, he felt a wet warm crevice greet his advances; her soft moans were far from chunter, she was enjoying it as much as he. Don was sexually overcome with adoration and ready to ejaculate in his wear. Completely oblivious to his surroundings he pulled down her pants and worked his fingers sensually in and around her lush hole. The urge to gratify his impulses was overbearing. He clasped his arms around her, pulled her bosom against him, and laid her back down on the lounge. Still kissing, he clumsily tried to undo his trousers, but the dream had come to an end, she held her hands on he’s and removed them from his garment;
“Nooo. Not here.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” The question was mere rhetorical frippery as Don’s motives were selfish and demanding. He continued his attempt to strip, but she reiterated;
“No, I can’t. I’m still a virgin.” Don had never been with a virgin before and this news only boosted his determination.
“Soooo? What’s wrong with being a virgin? You can still....”
“Be patient. Anyway mum and dad are just there; behave.” Don did not find her dissension amusing, he was ready to protest but thought better of his manners and agreed in principle as he lay on top and continued to kiss and fondle. The rhythmical motions of her pelvis roused his lustful member into an unstoppable eruption, his ejaculation brought from her hips quick and slow rounding movements joined by heavy breathing and soft sighs. She freely relished in an indulgent measure of pride in her achievements; Don’s pants were uncomfortably wet, but his needs were satisfied.
They heard the hallway door creak open, Cardinia arched upwards in shock and fear of complications if caught, causing Don to fall of the lounge in an urgent dismount. Her mother shouted;
“Cardinia are you still out there?”
“Yes mum,” she replied, “I’m going to bed now.”
“WELL hurry up! It’s getting late now,” she commanded with Gestapo intonations. Don could not stay anyway, his parents would be awake wondering if he was safe, besides he had to get home and clean himself up. The rejection of intercourse motivated his manliness to ask her if she would like to go out with him. She said;
“I’ll ask my parents, but they don’t let me go out much; I only go to church, and I’m usually in their company anyway.”
“Okay, I would love to see you again. Can I come and see you later at your work?” She acknowledged his aspirations with a passionate kiss as they stood at the door and said their goodbyes. He took that as a ‘yes’ and drove home with a smile on his face as broad as a Cheshire cat’s.
The following weekend was Don’s parents twenty ninth wedding anniversary. Zoe, Tim and Don united to throw their parents a surprise party and invited as many friends and relations as they could from Sydney and locally. His upset came early when he asked Cardinia to join him because she was not allowed, besides that, they were pleasantly surprised by the number of arrivals, and giving endorsement to the beginning of a night for what should have been a complete success. Don’s uncle Ben, aunt Peg, and their youngest son Todd arrived in a white ‘Vauxhall Viva’. The car belonged to Todd whom Don played with throughout his stay on East Hills Hostel. Everyone was happy, dancing and singing songs like; ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’, and ‘Roll Out The Barrel’, and all merrily drinking more grog than the family had available.
Early during the night it soon became evident the amount of alcohol ordered was being consumed too rapidly, so Todd and Don took it upon themselves to pool their money and drive into town to restock. Much to Don’s ignorance, he never realized Todd was a hoon and a lead-foot, full speed ahead was his only pace when driving. The amount of booze he drank certainly added to the boldness of his professional racing delusions. When about one thousand yards from Don’s house, they half rounded a bend, much too fast to negotiate it accurately and skidded head-on through a six foot high wooden paling fence into someone’s back yard, and through the chook pen. Don hit his head on the dash gashing his forehead; blood seeped freely. The motor was still running so he reached across to turn the ignition key off and shook Todd vigorously; Todd was sitting upright and unconscious, lucky in the fact a piece of three by two inch hardwood timber from the fence propelled itself through the firewall and jammed underneath the steering wheel. It split in two, each part just touching one side of his abdomen; if not for the steering wheel he would have been impaled. Installation of seat belts was not law back then helping save him from serious injury, or death, because momentum of the crash threw his body to one side away from the direct line of the timber spearing towards him. If he was belted in securely he would have felt the full force of splintered timber. Don kept shaking him, frantically trying to revive him and all the time scared of a fireball occurring due to the fumes and spill of petrol. Todd regained consciousness in time for both to scramble out of the vehicle as quick as possible.
Once out of the car and tending wounds it appeared there was no-one at the home they crashed into. The loud thud and skidding of brakes should have stirred someone but no-one came to assist, so with a few physical limitations they hobbled the long distance home. Their clothing was covered in blood which certainly helped the injuries look a lot worse than they were and they had no way of entering the Scotsdon’s premises to clean themselves without being noticed; so boldly in the front door they went. Once viewed by the crowd the shindig came to a muted halt and their parents panicked; one woman screamed. Rene was crying and Don could see the disappointment in his father’s eyes, then they rushed to them and comforted them with aid, care and lots of questions. While being transported to hospital for treatment their explanation for the crash was already prepared and did not mention speed was the blame. When asked if they were going too fast, they answered an emphatic ‘no’ and told an invented story attributing the crash to swerving to miss a dog which ran in front of their car; everyone privately rejected such spurious claims, but on the surface most demonstrated support. Todd had minor cuts and abrasions and Don received fifteen stitches to his upper forehead; his parents once again were burdened with great unwarranted distress. Accidents are unwelcome anytime, especially on such a momentous occasion; everyone at the party felt the brunt of their stupidity and it did sour the festivities to some degree.
Don had a week off work to recover then it was back to labouring. Following a hard day’s toiling in the burning wind he relaxed at home with a beer. Ted answered the ringing phone;
“It’s for you Don. I think she said her name is Cardinia.” This was an unexpected pleasure for Don. She was the last person he would guess to be ringing.
“Hello. Don here.”
“It’s Cardinia. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just watching TV. Not much on though.What about you?”
“Same. My parents won’t allow me to come over your place so do you want to come to mine and watch television here for the evening?” He agreed with extreme enthusiasm and would have gone anywhere to be in her company. Don sprinted to his room, attired himself neatly in double time, and was at Cardinia’s within thirty minutes of her call. When he knocked on the front door he was greeted by her battleaxe mother who signalled him in with a grunt intimating her disapproval.
“Sit down,” she said pointing to the lounge. “Cardinia is in the shower, she won’t be long.” Her father was lazing in his old ratty chair and her mother sat in a similar one next to him. Don sat upright with his eyes glued to the television; he was being dissected from head to toe and detecting clear misanthropic vibes, causing him a fidgety and tense posture and an acceleration in thinking; ‘Hurry up Cardinia, where the bloody hell are you’.
“What happened to your head?” asked the father. Don did not want to talk about his foolhardiness pertaining to the car accident so he lied;
“I had an accident at work.” Like all lies, they are never completely believable, so next came her father’s probing need for an explanation. He questioned Don again;
“How did you do it?” In hope of satisfying his nosiness, Don deliberated carefully before rationalizing an answer;
“I was hit with a piece of timber, it fell from the bridge I was working under. My mate dropped it.” Whether he believed the story to be true or in enough detail did not affect Don’s motivation regarding his visit because, just as her father went to stutter more interrogation he heard the bedroom door slam; this meant Cardinia was making her entrance. ‘Thank Christ she’s coming, this is getting nerve-wracking,’ thought Don.
His eyes mirrored carnal inclinations as she entered the hall light dressed in a pink woolly night gown buttoned from head to toe, and her hair tied up in a bun, assumingly to keep it dry. Her parents spoke quietly between themselves as she walked towards him; she had the face of a cover girl and was as glamorous as a princess. Her loveliness, her virtuous and vestal modesty was embraced with a surreptitious stare from Don as she sat next to him on the lounge. He wanted dearly to seize the warm comfort of her tender body without delay and wondered if there was any clothing under her gown.
“Ughaohhh, what happened to your head?” Compassionately she stroked her palm gently along his forehead. He gave the same explanation as he told her parents because they were in ear-shot.
“Oooh you poor thing, does it hurt?” Her parents watched every move out of the corner of their beady eyes. Don loved the attention but they hated watching her give it. Expecting sympathy, he answered;
“No, it’s fine. I’ve a bit of a headache most of the time though.” They sat there for hours watching television without a lot of general parlance in Don’s interests; their talk was restricted by her parents company and they were not volunteering to go to bed any time soon. Don found it hard to hide his impetuous display of intolerance and exclaimed;
“I have to go now, thanks for having me.” He knew none of the fantasies he plotted were going to eventuate because her parents were nailed to their chairs to ensure it remained nonsexual. Don stood up without more to say and headed for the door. Her parents purposely overlooked his exit, even without such remarks as a surly farewell they stayed glued to the television. Cardinia opened the front door, followed him outside and closed the door behind her;
“Sorry about them,” she said. He sounded a demoralizing reply:
“That’s okay. Sorry though, I had to leave, it was rather uncomfortable in there. I’m home alone tomorrow. My parents are leaving early in the morning and taking Tim to see Zoe and Bing in Sydney. Why not come around for a while?”
“It’s church in the morning.”
“But it’s Saturday?”
“I know. My parents are fanatical worshippers and a special meeting is arranged tomorrow; usually I only have to go on Sundays. I’ll try to go around after lunch.” She sounded eager and he was keen to let her know he was;
“That’ll be good. I’ll stay home and wait for you.”
The next day Don stayed at home in anticipation of her calling. His inner reasoning suggested much doubt regarding her visit and the morning felt like a week. On thinking about her he was rapturously hypnotised and besotted by her appeal, he could not get her out of his mind; just the thought was energizing his libido. Through the gap in the curtains a figure in the driveway flashed a shadow past the sunlight capturing his attention. It was her. ‘She actually came,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe it’. He opened the door and although habitually reserved in speech, he did not withhold his opinion. With significant sentiment he said;
“Hello, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she replied with poise. “I can only stay for a few hours.” Don stared in awe at her as she stood outside.
“Can I come in? Are you going to ask me in? Or just stare like last time and send me home?” He laughed;
“Sorry. No not like last time, come in, come in.” It did not take long for a sober Don to become dumbfounded for words. He escorted her to the lounge-room and gestured his palm along the lounge.
“Want to sit here?”
“Anywhere will do. How’s your head?” Don thought: ‘Alone and undisturbed at last. I should tell her the truth; I will.’
“A lot better. The truth is.....” He told her about his car accident and she accepted his explanation without question.
“You were very lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Yea I know. Would you like a can of beer?” Don needed something to relax him in preparation of swapping stories and acting well-versed.
“Yes please.” She acknowledged, “I drink a little when I can.” He was happy with her answer and she was thrilled to suck on a can without ramifications from seniors. It was not long before the environment influenced their mood and Don trusted a move involving passion was imminent.
His pumping heart had fallen hook, line and sinker as if he was already uxoriously happily attached and could think of nothing else but wanting to please her sexually. Her feelings for him were strong and they cuddled and smooched into a union of passion. She pulled him in closer, her lips sending cosmic sensations over his skin, the enjoyment so immense they slid onto the carpet for more room and he lay on top; both in elated bliss. She removed her top and exposed the most voluptuous rounded full set of boobs he had ever seen, much better looking than Kolora’s and three times as big as Fran’s. They were squishy and mind blowing, he squeezed and touched every part of her body with the vivacity of a dog on heat. She thrived on each touch and moved her butt from side to side rubbing her lower area against his rigid swelling; the feel against her vulva was intense. Reaching into her pants and using his fingers to knead her clit saw her respond with pure surges of want, but she was not persuading him to go to the next step by initiating further progress; yet he was ready to insert his penis, and very impatient to do so, even more than she could realise. Eagerly craving for it he could wait no longer and took matters into his own hands by beginning to undo his trousers. She grabbed his wrists and pulled them up around her waist. He was confused as to the mixed messages and thought: ‘Does she want sex or not? She gained insight into his dilemma and moved her hand down the top of his trousers and held in the palm of her hand his cock. They wriggled and kissed with copious amounts of fluid seeping from their private parts without the disruption of wondering who was going to walk in on them. Don could not last any longer, with one hand he squeezed her breasts harder as each quivering stage of ejaculation passed. His other tightened around her waist while her hand moved in sequence with each spurt; never was a feeling so good, thinking: ‘How can a feeling keep getting better?’ The creamy fluid over her hands was of no consequence to her. He collapsed in a tranquillised state on top until the blood circulated through his brain at normal pressure; then he rolled off and lie next to her.
Relaxed with undeniably smug glowing cheeks she asked for a towel to wipe the substance from her hand. Although he was even more than sated he was confused regarding her sexual repression;
“What happened? Why don’t you want to fuck?”
“I will when I’m ready. Why didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Ooohh, of course I did, it was fantastic. Did you?” She grinned in silence before saying;
“It’s time for me to go now.” He wanted her to stay;
“Why? What’s your hurry?”
“I don’t want to get into trouble. If I’m late they’ll ground me.”
“Okay. Do you want to go out somewhere later; tomorrow maybe?”
“Yes. Not tomorrow, but I might be allowed to go to the pictures one night on the weekend. They don’t seem to have a problem with me going to the pictures with friends, sometimes anyway, depending on whom I’m with; usually it’s girls.”
“Probably counts me out do you think? I don’t think they like me.”
“Don’t panic, they’re the same with everyone.”
“It would be good if we can go together?”
“I’m sure I can talk them into it.” With a devilish grin she added; “How’s your head feel now; better?”
“Which one?” Don watched her walk out the driveway waving and chuckling.
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