Chapter 1

Well, here we are my friend, the same old, same old.

Look at her.

This is enough for her. What a small view of the world she has, her nipples erect, all the muscles in her face working to contain the mixture of complex sensations manifesting from her orgasm. This cum that she has day in, day out, seems to be ok with her, because she is smiling at me.

I can't even look her in the eye, because the cum that she's wiping from my cock ain't enough for me. A kiss on the forehead should let her know I still care about her. Good night, babe.

Now I have to turn off the light, and lay in melancholy.

Maybe there isn't anything out there to give me the mental stimulation I crave. My life seems so mundane that it is almost hurting my soul. I haven't always had family, money, a good woman, or a stable home. I have all those things now...

But I'm not happy.

She's snoring now, so it's time to sneak out for a walk on the street. It's still fairly light out, between the big moon and all the street lights. The night is cold and wet, the cars making a hypnotic swooshing sound as they pass me by. I feel like a boxer at the bottom of the heap, trying to fight his way up through the ranks. I walk with my head stooped forward and a few drops of rain running off the front off my hood.

I need to get away from here.

I want to keep pounding this concrete path until I end up in another land. If I could walk under water, I could keep heading in the same direction until I hit New Zealand. All this feeling sorry for myself is making me tired, and I have to build a garden out the back in the morning. Time to head back and fade into oblivion, until the sun hits the horizon again.

I've worked with gardens for a while now, so creating a new one is old hat. In this region you dig out the dirt, spread some gypsum, put down some sandy loam, and then top with soil. Simple.

"Hey, sexy."

I guess I do look ok — I'm fit and brown from working outside — but in my heart, I feel she doesn't mean it, it's just something to say. "Hey, babe, thanks for the drink."

Back to digging this hole.

It will give me something to do, since I no longer have friends or hobbies. My friends have long since moved away, or have married and moved on with their lives. Hobbies disappeared with my youth, along with any new excitement in my life.

I would really just like to disappear to another place. Maybe I could just keep digging, until I get to Far China on the other side of the world.

I wonder what is on the other side of the world, if I dug a hole straight down. I know it wouldn't be China. I'll have to have a look on the internet.

Let's see, if I look up my longitude and latitude, I should be able to work out opposite longitude and latitude, to find the opposite side of the world. This site says my longitude is 151.418E and my latitude is 33.282S. So, the opposite side of the world should be 33.282 North in latitude. There are also 360 degrees in a circle, so the opposite side should be minus 180 degrees, 28.582W.

That is the exact opposite side of the world, on the right hand side of the North Atlantic Ocean. The closest land to that point is Santa Maria Island, in the Azores, off the coast of Portugal. So, if I wanted to get as far away as possible, that would be the very place.

Who am I kidding. I haven't been in a plane since I was 10 and I've developed numerous phobias since then.

Oh well, it's a nice thought. Now, back to the grind of completing this garden, and then a bit of a rest before work again tomorrow. No chance of too much peace as the phone rings for the 12th time today.

A bit of hedge trimming and this yard will be as good as it gets. I swear, I should be hired as a lawn and garden artist instead of a gardener, and paid accordingly. I don't know how many times I've been told that it's the best job they've ever seen.

Gee, I have a good eye for angles and aesthetics. It looks like I have measured every section of this hedge and set a ratio, in relation to the other plants. A bit of a rake, a blow, a step back for admiration, and it's over until the next job.

"That's it, if you're happy with that, Mrs Sotherby."

I always ask that, but I already know the answer.

"Of course, come in, I'll grab the money for you, and don't mind me I haven't gotten out of my pyjamas yet. A bit of a lazy day for me."

Does she really think I care? I don't think so, and I don't mind having a perve on that arse knowing there is only the material of her pyjama bottoms covering it. Her tits are also bouncing hypnotically as she walks, with the friction of her top on her naked nipples causing them to grow hard.

"Here you go."

Gee, she has an attractive smile, especially when she hands over cash.

"Want a drink — or anything else?"

Now, I know she sees me staring at her breasts, hanging while she is searching for a cup in the bottom cupboard. I also know the implied meaning of anything else, especially since her smile is even bigger now — as she looks me in the eye — than before.

If I jump in balls and all here, I could lose a contract. Is a fuck really worth that?

"I would love a drink, I'm dying of thirst." That should get me out of it.

Her smile — in response to my smirk — indicates to me that she is thinking something along the line of, Ok, it was worth a try.

If this phone rings again, especially while I am driving, I am going to throw it. Home — I better answer.

"How ya going?" Not that I am really interested as I have a huge amount of jobs to get through.

"Good. You have been getting calls about overdue payments."

Nice to know that if it's anything to do with my stuff, she hands it back to me. "Can't you take care of them?" You think she could spend half an hour — out of her not so busy day — to transfer some money or send a cheque.

"No, it's your stuff; I wouldn't know what I was doing."

It's lucky she can get out of bed without instructions. My eyes are going to roll all the way around in a minute. "No worries, see you when I get home."

There's a travel agency. I'm stopping to ask about Santa Maria. Looks like a typical travel agency, with posters advertising lots of different locations.

Even the use the other door sign is making me mad, right now.

The girl behind the desk looks very classy — all dressed up. "Hey good looking, can I help you?"

I could insert, You can help me decide whether to ask you out for dinner or lunch, or hey sexy, but it's all too much trouble. "Yeah, I am looking for a holiday on Santa Maria Island, off Portugal." I am guessing she knows nothing about it.

"I know it, I have stayed in Santa Barbara before, on the east coast of the island."

Barbara, Maria, I don't give a shit as long as she ain't got balls. Come on, give me the flight details. I'm in a foul mood, I need to calm down. She does know the island at least.

"When do you want to go?"

I reckon yesterday, or six months ago would be nice. "When is the earliest I can get there?"

Her long, manicured nails, tapping thier way across the keyboard, suit her starched, professional, not a hair out of place image. "Well, there is a flight out of Sydney to London, tomorrow morning at four a.m., then a flight from London to Lisbon three hours after you land, then a flight into Santa Maria airport the next morning. So, you could be there by Friday morning, our time."

"Ok, cool, can you also book motels?" I bet she can't. I will probably have to do it myself, and I am screwed if I would know how.

"Of course, there is the Santa Maria Motel in Vila Do Porto, that's very nice."

Well, she knows her stuff. Her tits are pushing against the stiff cotton material, threatening to bust out and spoil the rigidness of her uniform with their soft curves. I would love to ask her to come home with me right now.

Now, the tough question. "How much is it going to cost for the flight, stay for seven days and come home?" I could easily part her long, blonde, straight cut hair down the middle, using each side as reins, as I do it horsey style with her over the desk.

"$4,965 including..."

Blah, blah, blah... "Ok, do you have a card, so I can call you and book it in?"

She has a cheeky smile on her face, and I wonder what is running through her mind while she is writing. "Here you are, call me anytime, my home number is on the back."

How about after the next time my girlfriend and I have a fight? I wish I could spit that out, but it's too much trouble. "Thanks a lot, have a nice day. Talk to you soon."

Only two jobs to go. I like driving between jobs; it gives me a nice little break. If I worked in a factory, I wouldn't get a ten to twenty minute break every 30 to 50 minutes. I must look like a bit of an idiot, driving around smiling because I feel so privileged. The phone again... at least it's a message instead of a call this time.

From the girlfriend... maybe when I open it, the message will say 'hey lets go out tonight' or 'thinking about you' or 'I love you'.

So much for the smile, she's going to her mums now and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. What's new, she is there every second weekend. Her years of distancing herself from me are really getting to me. I wonder if you can do damage to your eyes, rolling them too much.

Where's that card? I'm going to call the girl in the travel agency. A man can only take so much before he cracks. I'm going to tell her I want a ticket and a hotel booked and her underneath me. If she says no — who cares — I won't ever see her again, so no need for embarrassment. I could always buy the holiday elsewhere.

Not answering. Maybe she has gone home.

"Hello, Avoca Travel Agency, may I help you?"

What a clean cut, professional voice she has. "Hi, I was in there earlier on today, looking for info about Santa Maria island and..."

I usually can't stand when people cut me off, but she doesn't come across as rude — in the way of manners anyway.

"I remember you, sexy. What can I do for you?"

"I would like you to book that holiday, with the flight leaving tomorrow morning." Even though part of my conscience is telling me to hang up right now, it feels right.

"No problems, can you stop back in this afternoon? I am just about to shut the shop, but I will wait for you."

I haven't been impressed by a womans demener — like I am with hers — in quite some time.

"I also have a confession to make." I can't believe I am doing this. My heart rate has doubled, this is not usually something I do.

"Yes?" Her tone is mischievous and inviting me to continue on.

"I couldn't stop staring at your ruby red lips while I was in the shop and wanted to kiss you." There it is, all out in the open, and my heart rate has dropped because I don't feel that she would make fun of me in any way.