Dyson Does Dunedin (MF cheat) 

My name is Ace Dyson and I was in New Zealand on a tight
rein. The message from the boss in Sydney was as clear as a
South Island mountain stream. Stay the fuck out of trouble,
Ace. Stay the fuck away from those New Zealand sheilas.

I should explain. I'm just a humble fix-it man at the
beck and call of the boss, usually to sort out problems for
his aggressive multi-layered company, sometimes to be nice
to fat prospective clients and show them a good time. But
my last trip to Land of the Long White Cloud had been a
career disaster. The boss lost business when I lost my way
with a flock of females in the sleepy town of Nelson<*>. He
appreciated the story when I told him but still docked me a
mountain of cash for lost expenses.

Another guy had the Dunedin route. But the silly fucker
broke his collarbone falling out a jet boat on some wild
and dangerous river outside Christchurch, so I was filling
in.

Dunedin is an old-fashioned town, straight out of Dr.
Finlay's Casebook. You expect to see the walls adorned with
posters calling up young men for the Western Front. Rugged
rugby country. They don't care if they win or lose, as long
as they can maim and dismember. And sensational seafood,
especially ocean fish from deep and cold water.

I was scheduled for an official dinner that night to press
the flesh of a few local dignitaries and I ordered the
lamb. You can't go wrong with New Zealand lamb.

Official dinners are bad anywhere. Food en masse, this
choice or that. And speeches. Welcome speeches. Thank you
speeches. Serious speeches. Amusing after dinner speeches
from the alleged local government wit. I sat and waited,
doing my duty by applauding when others did, and only
really looking to get to bed.

"I'm really sorry about this," a voice said quietly into my
right ear. It was the woman seated next to me and she was
leaning across confidentially. We'd been introduced when
first I sat down at the table but her name had not stayed.
She rolled her eyes, but minimally so it would be only for
me. "He does tend to go on and on."

I smiled politely. "I've heard worse," I said, flicking my
head in a gesture towards the rostrum. "Who is he, anyway?"
I wasn't paying attention when he was introduced.

"My father," she said blandly. "The mayor of our fair
city."

"And a very nice city it is too," I said carefully.

"It's a dump," she said. "Why would I be at a dull function
like this on a Friday night? Because it's a dump and
there's nothing better to offer. Why are you here?"

"I have no idea," I confessed. "It's on my schedule of
things to do, that's all. I'm just standing in for somebody
else."

A cross-looking man with heavy jowls glared at us
disapprovingly across the table. We were talking softly but
we were still talking while the mayor droned on. She
hatched an idea. I saw it happen in her eyes. "Let's get
out of here," she said, smiling impishly.

"How?"

"I'll pretend ill," she said. "You can help me solicitously
from the room."

I am and have always been a sucker for a call for help.
 From a lady, that is. It must be my mother's fault. It gets
me into trouble but I still cannot help it.

"Sure," I said. "Whenever you're ready."

Immediately she put a hand on my arm as if to steady
herself. She snatched up a napkin and pressed it to her
mouth. Faces around the table turned to look. She looked
for all the world like she was about to throw up on the
floor. Smoothly I rose from the chair and took her arm,
smiling apologetically at the circle of faces. I whisked
her away, between tables and out the double doors.

She danced a short and furious little jig when we reached
the bottom of the stairs. "Fantastic," she said. "Freedom
at last."

I hadn't taken much notice of her previously. Now I did,
because she'd become interesting. Standard female, she
seemed. Late twenties, at a guess. Not too good, not too
bad. Not big, not small. Curly dark hair a bit out of
control. But nice blue eyes, dancing with sparkle and
mischief. She was very pleased with her act of rebellion.

"Thanks," she said. "You were great. I'm Sharon."

"Sharon," I said. "The mayor's naughty daughter. I'm Ace
Dyson and I'm just passing through."

She looked at me frankly and speculatively. "Where are you
staying, Ace?"

"Right here, Sharon. This very hotel."

She continued to look at me directly, a smile on her face
and a look in her eye. I don't need an idiot board to tell
me when I'm being cued.

"Would you like to come up for a drink?" I asked.

And that's how easy it is to take a tumble. You try to be
good. Your intentions are honourable. You want to do the
right thing. Then some sheila comes along and smiles at you
fetchingly and before you know it you're sliding down that
slippery slope and it's too late to do anything about it.

She was bright, happy, pleased with herself, eager for
adventure. Until the door of my room closed. She turned
back and looked at it, a frown on her brow. "Oops," she
said, as if to herself. "I don't think I should be here."

I sat down on the bed. It was an old-fashioned hotel. There
was a bed, a bathroom, and not much else. "That's up to
you," I said graciously, because that's the way I am.
"You are hardly under duress. You can leave any time you
like."

She checked the time on her wristwatch and then crossed her
arms under her breasts. Her mood appeared to have shifted
radically. "Any time?" she asked.

"Of course."

She smiled slyly. "Then I'll stay - but only under that
condition," she said, stretching her arms above her head
and pushing back her shoulders in a muscle-relaxing prelude
to further promising events. Sexy Sharon scratched her
stomach indolently through her dress and her eyes said it
was my next move.

"If you stay," I said, "your virginity may be under threat.
Only fair to warn you."

She laughed. "Ace, I'm married with two kids." Then she
stopped laughing, quite abruptly. "You have condoms? I want
to see your condoms. My last baby happened because of an
inferior condom. One accident is more than enough and I'll
have to check."

Unusual. But there was something appealingly quixotic about
this woman. I flipped open my briefcase and flicked her a
sealed pack. Sharon tore it open with her teeth and dangled
the condom at close range.

"Looks thin," she said, suspiciously twisting it in front
of the light. "Too transparent." Great White Shark was the
top brand back home but she looked at me with narrowed eyes
as though I was involved in a major conspiracy. "I'll have
to see it on you."

Increasingly unusual. "You mean, like a demo?"

"That's it," she said. "Let's get it on you and then I'll
see."

This was all getting too hard, which I wasn't. She saw my
concern. "I'll fix that," she said. "Look, I'll show you
mine if you show me yours." She whipped up her dress and
bunched it across her stomach. Naughty Sharon. No pants.

"Naughty Sharon," I said. "No pants."

"I never wear them on the nights Murray goes to his boys-
only rugby parties," she said. "Just to keep him anxious."

"Murray is your husband?" I asked.

"The fat prick himself," she agreed. "Father of my first
child."

"And your second?"

"Another bloody Aussie," she said, grinning. She wriggled
her hips with malicious intent, pubic hair crisp and curly.
"Why do you think I'm so fussy about your bloody condoms?
Give me a good thick Kiwi condom any day. Come on, Ace. Off
with your duds."

I lowered my trousers, stepped out of my briefs and stood
before her with a disinterested expression on my loins. "I
think I need to be warmed up," I said hopefully.

"Not a problem," she said. "I'll show you a trick my mother
taught me."

Sharon just kept on getting more interesting. "Now you have
my complete attention," I said.

She dropped her dress, moved over and clasped my head
between two hands, looking into my eyes. I was expecting
the mother of all kisses but she twisted my head, put her
mouth against my ear and blew into it with a long, slow,
and warm breath, at the same time stroking my recalcitrant
organ. She stepped away and looked down. "Does it every
time," she said with satisfaction.

Right. I was as hard as a South Island glacier. She pushed
me insistently back on the bed, produced the wafer-thin
Great White Shark, and rolled it on with practised
efficiency. "Now look at that," she said, disappointment
evident. "You can see right through the damned thing. Ace,
I can't risk it. You're lovely and all that but I dare not
risk another little Aussie bastard."

She rolled off the condom and dropped it disdainfully on
the floor, then stood up and brushed her dress down. "You
said I could leave whenever I wanted," she said sulkily. "I
choose to leave."

I did say that and I always try hard to be the gentleman my
mother tried to make me. But it was a great pity after the
ear-blowing thing.

In short time we were leaving the hotel as I escorted her
to her car. Behind us, in a noisy rumble down the stairs,
came a group of men leaving the dinner function. Sharon
looked over her shoulder and clutched me by the arm.
"Quick," she hissed. "Over there."

She shoved me into a side alley off the main street and in
three steps or so swung herself against the wall. "Changed
my mind," she said, grappling urgently with my trousers and
hiking up her dress. I was still pretty keen, but just to
make sure of it she blew that sexy blow into my ear. Wow. I
was like a trembling stallion.

I plunged into her so easily it was like we'd been fuck
partners for six years. "Shit," I said but without
stopping. "What about the condom?"

"No time for condoms," she gasped. "Fuck me good, Ace. And
if you can, make sure it's a girl."

It was fast, nasty and breathless. Knee-tremblers are
always breathless - a few fast knee-bends for the do-er and
a few hard bumps on the shoulder blades for the do-ee. It
makes for a fair bit of mutual grunting but it is so hot
and hard it can turn you blind.

Just after I'd given her everything I had, a bunch of men
in suits passed by the alley, stopped talking, stopped
altogether, and looked at us. Shit. It was not near dark
enough and we were too close to be anything but totally
obvious.

"Hi dad," said Sharon cheerfully.

The men walked on and disappeared around the corner.

I withdrew from her and dressed. Again she smoothed down
her dress and I walked her to her car, only a few paces
away.

"What was all that?" I asked with some trepidation, because
there was definitely something behind it all.

"My father, the mayor," she said. "He'll tell Murray in the
morning. He can't help himself."

"You want him to tell?"

"Murray keeps going to those stag nights," she said,
chuckling.

"Sharon, you are a bad woman," I said.

"Ace, you are too easy," she replied. "And if I were you
I'd get out of town real fast."

I always attend to good advice on matters of personal
safety.