Chapter 6

Jake sat discretely at the back of the auction. It was held in a cleared space in the mart, but, even so, there was not enough room for those wishing to attend.

He'd had an avalanche of proposals at the last moment from big companies wanting to do a deal. There were oil companies, chain stores, land developers and just those on the make. Everyone could see, apparently, what Jake had missed: the size and location of the property was something that rarely came up and would garner a frenzy of interest.

It wasn't so much the present value, but it's potential, that so sent businessmen frothing at the mouth. The site didn't warrant a K-Mart, now, but in the future? Chain stores wanted the property for no other reason than to deny their competitors the use of it.

The bids gradually climbed past the reserve and Jake began to calculate the net. The noughts ticked over with bewildering speed and he could barely stop himself from yelling out his excitement. This was much better than a horse race. In this race, he owned all the horses and couldn't lose. Money, he thought, shouldn't be this easy to make.

"4,2 once," the auctioneer called.

"4.2?" he asked the man beside him, "4.2 what?"

The man looked at him as if he was an idiot. His eyes travelled down to his belt in a look of arrogance and condescension. "4 million two hundred thousand dollars," the man said in a clipped, 'proper, ' public school accent.

"4.2 twice." Jake held his breath. "Do I have 4.3... yes, I have. The bid is 4.3."

"4 point fucking three million dollars?" Jake yelled, excitedly. The man next to him gave him a look of utter disdain.

"4.4... yes, I have 4.4. Any advance on 4.4, gentlemen and ladies? 5? Do I hear 5 million over there, sir? Yes, I have a bid for 5 million dollars."

Jake looked around quickly to check he hadn't accidently bid on his own building. He hadn't, it was the wanker sitting beside him. Clearly the man thought him a rubbernecker, or worse, a reporter!

"5.1... 2... 3... I have 5.3. 5.4, sir? Ah, 6, over there? The bid now stands at 6 million dollars!"

This was unprecedented in the town and he could see people shuffling and talking excitedly to each other. Even the prick next to Jake looked stunned at the bidding price. At seven, he shook his head, got up and left. Obviously there were a couple of bidders who desperately wanted the property and were prepared to pay well over the market to get it. Such a situation was like Eden, Paradise and Nirvana rolled into one... like an orgasm that went on all day?

Jake watched the crowd gasp and yell and tap furiously on their mobiles. A man stood and called out '7 point 5' so loudly Jake thought he was trying to intimidate everyone into silence.

"Ten!" yelled a punter from the other side of the room and the first man subsided. Obviously this was way over what he'd been authorised to bid and he slumped over, cellphone to his ear.

"Ten, once? Ten, twice?" called the auctioneer. Jake held his breath again, as did everyone in the room. Was this the climax of this insanity? "Ten five, over there? Yes, I have ten point five million dollars."

The punter at the side shook his head vigourously. The sound died and you could hear nothing but the beep of cellphones texting. "Ten, five once? Twice... sold to the gentleman over there. Congratulations, sir, would you give your name to my assistant?"

There was a rush to the door by journalists and agents trying to be the first to get the story out. Others just stood around talking or scratching their heads in amazement. Someone came up and pumped Jake's hand until it threatened to fall off. Another asked what it felt like to be a millionaire, ten times over? His back ached from being slapped by strangers wanting to get close to the town's newest multimillionaire. Someone even pressed a business card into his hand and suggested they 'have a little chat.' He stared at it, he was an investment consultant.

'Typical, ' he thought, no sooner had he made a fortune than someone comes along to help him spend it.

He managed to escape the scrum half an hour later. By then, he desperately wanted to hide. His home was out of bounds, two reporters had stationed themselves by front of the door. He called Mary and explained his predicament. She told him to hide in her cottage, that a key was under the pot by the back door.

Mary was working at the Refuge and wouldn't be home until late. Jake bought some groceries, cooked a meal, left some supper for Mary, and put himself to bed with her TV.

When he woke, it was morning and Mary was sound asleep beside him. The plate he'd left her was empty beside the bed and there was a glass of wine, half full, on the bedside table. He rose, washed, and went to fix them both some breakfast. He liked the domestic scene, one he'd never experienced with Sharmila. She was sitting up when he returned, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Jake put the tray on the bed and climbed in beside her.

"Time?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"Seven," he told her, and she groaned.

"I'm not going in today," she announced, "be a dear and bring me my phone? It's on the table in the lounge."

"Y'sick?" he asked, concerned.

"Hard night... bloody husbands, who'd have one?"

"Your's?" he asked.

"Hell no!" she gasped in mock shock, "just some moron a client of mine's saddled herself with. Silly bitch has no idea how to pick them. He gets home and slaps her around over a piece of shell in his omelette. I'd have shoved it up his flabby arse, pan and all."

"Doesn't sound like you're keeping your professional distance?" Jake told her, smiling, as he returned with her phone.

"Well, fuck, can you blame me? It just goes on and on, repeating the same pattern and I'm sick to death with it all. I feel like taking some of them by the scruff of their necks and shaking the shit out of them. 'Wake up, fuck you? Don't you realise you're worth more than this'?"

"Shit! Mary, take it easy!"

"I'm sorry, Jake. Here's you being such a honey and I'm spitting venom at the male species. I guess I'm not in a good space for you at the moment. There you go and make ten million dollars and all I can do is bitch about work."

"Nah, I'm glad you can trust me enough to moan to."

"Jesus, Jake, I'm going to close my eyes and you're going to disappear in a hiss of fairy dust. Where the fuck did you come from? And good in bed, too? What did I do to deserve this?" she asked looking upwards, "I ask for a fuck and you send me a saint?"

"You're funny!" he laughed, bent and kissed her.

"So, moneybags, hop up here and tell me what it's like to be a godzillionaire?"

"Aw, not you, too?" he laughed.

It'd been a month since Sharmila had walked out of his life. In that time he hadn't seen nor heard from her. Upon the notification of the auction, however, he received a letter from an accountant acting on her behalf. It reminded him of his obligation to pay her bill on settlement of the property. He passed it on to his own accountant and asked him to deal with it.

But she'd made a mistake by bailing from the project early. Sharmila had demanded $80,000, based on an estimate of the eventual sale price. The property, however, had gone for 5 times that: much more, it was true, than anyone expected. If she'd hung on, she could've demanded over half a million dollars. His accountant, however, assured him she'd settled on a fixed, cash fee by the letter and couldn't come back afterwards crying 'foul.'

'Sharmila can make mistakes!' he told himself, and some of the awe he had for her disappeared.

He half expected her to turn up once the property was sold. He kind of thought she'd want to come and spend some of his profit. But, to her credit, she hadn't arrived on his doorstep, nor even phoned a congratulation.

Meanwhile, after that first night, Mary decided she really did have some room in her life for 'an occasional squeeze.' Soon he was staying most weekends, fixing up her garden, and cooking her meals as she did her volunteer work. He even got her working with him in the garden.

Her visiting friends soon accepted them as a couple. Mary took a little longer but gradually came round to the idea. She missed him during the week when he was away and looked forward to Friday when his grey Camino would crunch into her driveway.

Jake often brought her dinner, and they would share it, and a bottle of wine, in bed. Sometimes he would bring her ice cream and cherrys, and they would spoon feed each other. Naturally, this led on to tasting each others mouths.

Mary and Jake's lovemaking became deeply romantic and, despite her 'non-attachment principles, ' she found herself becoming hopelessly besotted.

Jake made it easy for her to love, she decided. He was always calm when she came home stressed and gave her wonderful massages. He was placid and self-sufficient. Years of living by himself had honed domestic skills and he could cook, clean up after himself and, above all, put down the toilet seat.

Her innate scepticism saw her searching for flaws in his personality. There were some, she decided, but they were so trivial it hardly mattered.

Jake wasn't particularly spontaneous and preferred order and routine. She guessed that stood him in good stead in business and in life. He was a detail person, whereas she preferred the broader picture. Mary imagined them painting a picture together where she provided the inspiration and outline and he painted in the fiddly bits.

He fussed over her garden and, she had to admit, he made a good job, albeit a little too formal for her taste. She preferred a little disorder and growth, but her lawn became manicured and her flowerbeds neat rows of bedding plants. Mary knew how to negotiate, however, and he left a special place just for her. It was a corner with a trellis and overgrown shrubs where she could hang chimebells on the bending branches and a chinese lantern on a hook.

He was now exceedingly rich, but that didn't seem to change him. He disposed of most of the stock from his mart. He described it as 'pulling teeth, ' but he steeled himself and held a fire sale. Much of it went to the dump, or the Salvation Army and some to Mary's refuge for the use of her clients. Jake kept his favourite pieces, the more valuable antiques, and hired a garage nearby to store them. His firearms required greater security and he moved them, and their vault, into Mary's garden shed.

He even kept his Camino, although he could well afford a Bentley without affecting his financial position in the slightest. He told her he was used to it, knew its maintenance history, found it reliable, and it still had years of useful service left in it. Most of his money had been stowed away in investments through a blind trust. He explained he'd rather pay someone to sweat over it rather than giving him heartburn. It paid him a couple of hundred thousand a year spending money and he could pull out any capital expenditure any time he liked. In short, he was set up for the rest of his life and had no need to work if he didn't want to.

After he was living for a while in a hotel following the sale of his mart, Mary decided there was no good reason why he couldn't move in with her permanently. He was staying most of the time anyway, and it was an easy move. Her bedroom was a little more cluttered since he hauled in his free-standing wardrobe, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. He cooked, cleaned, and fucked her beautifully. What more could a woman want?

She knew they were going through their 'honeymoon period, ' where all was lust and euphoria. She knew that, over time, their 'ego boundaries' would reassert themselves and they would require some 're-evaluation.' But, as they sat together in her old tub and soaped each others hair, none of that seemed to matter. For once in a long time, she was blissfully happy with the situation. Jake was an angel and she was deeply in love with him.

She learned to raise her legs and place them on his shoulders. He'd kneel on the floor when he went down on her. He found the angle easier on his jaw and tongue. He knew her sweetspot, now, but he also learned to tease, to titilate her, until she began to grind in frustration. He'd then bring her to a peak till she would explode with wonderful, deep orgasms. Mary was certain no-one had ever lapped her so well before.

Mary called it her 'honey stick, ' and she loved to watch him brace himself when she gave him long, slow, blow jobs. She'd smother it in kisses, lick the bulb until he flinched, before slowly sucking down the length. Mostly it was a preliminary before fucking, but sometimes she brought him off just to watch him spurt over her shoulder. No, she didn't swallow. That was just a male fantasy and she wondered why any woman would want to chow down on semen. He didn't seem to mind. She was practiced and skilful and she delighted in bringing him off this way.

Jake would get horny at unexpected times. One day, he was watching her in the garden. She was bent over, weeding, and he came up behind her and stroked her bottom. Mary had on some old khaki, bargain store trousers that stetched when she bent and left a gap between her shirt and waistband. He found he could insert his hand through the gap easily, and push right down to the crack of her arse.

She looked at him with mock disapproval, but he kept his hand in place and squeezed her cheeks.

"What are you after?" she grinned. In response he bent over her, nuzzled her neck, and thrust his fingers right down to her crotch. "Whoah!" she gasped, "easy, big boy! I almost stabbed myself with the fork."

Jake looked around to check they couldn't be seen from the road before continuing to molest her. "Get off!" she laughed, "get your hand out of there!" He persisted, however, and eventually she accepted a passionate kiss. "Mmm, baby," she said, "you wanna go inside?"

"No, here!" he insisted, his breathing quickening.

"What, in the garden? You dirty bastard!" She felt his hand snatching at her belt and she helped him undo the buckle. She touched him with the back of her hand and found he was as hard as a rock. Something had clearly touched him off, but she didn't care. Already she felt cool air on her arse as he slid her trousers and panties down in one go. Still bent over, she reached between her legs to find he'd already got his cock out. He pushed and stabbed at her until she took the bulb and guided it into her.