Continued from Muse 3 "The Way of the North"
Wiseman's Cove sits quietly at the base of sloping, lush hills. It's rock-cropped beaches and coves the perfect complement to surrounding dairy farms. Even from the rock pools, the gentle lowing of cows can be heard as they queue to be relieved of their bounty at dawn and again at dusk. In fact, the area is known for its delightful dairy products, rich triple creams and soft cheeses. Of those who make a living from the dairy industry, Dave is a legend. His cows win prizes, his bull is second to none, with the privilege of serving not only the Pullman cows but a bevy of bovine beauties on neighbouring farms. There's also Beatrice, his award winning cow, the love of his life.
Beatrice is spoiled with affection, bred from only once every two years. When not with a calf in tow, she is preened, cleaned, polished and trimmed, loaded onto a horse float and taken to the state's agricultural shows. Her milk is tested, tasted, perused and praised. Her coat caressed, her legs and udders felt and teased. She is the queen of the barnyard and Dave thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. If she were a woman, she'd be his but for now, he's content to caress and let his imagination wonder.
"You wonderful thing . . " Dave coos as he leads Beatrice from her stall to the wash bay, talking softly as one would to a lover, "Mind your step now my beauty."
Iris on the other hand, does not share his affection for cows. Dave promised that if she gave it a couple of years, and still hated country life, they'd move back into the city. She tolerated his passion, the stench of the farm, the complaining of cattle. Only The Seventh Goddess and a burgeoning friendship with Reya had kept her sane over recent weeks.
Reya and Iris began arraning a shipment of satin corsets on a rack at The Seventh Goddess, Iris could not keep quiet any longer.
"Seriously Reya, the man's got some sort of fetish for this cow. He's up at 5 milking the rest of the herd, comes in for breakfast and a cup of tea, heads out and spends hours grooming that dam thing . . . She's pampered more than I ever was and each weekend, he's off to some agricultural show or other. Him in his little white coat and Akubra and her all gussied up! I hardly see him any more. He's too tired for sex. Too tired for fun. I swear he'd fuck that animal if I wasn't watching!"
Raya remembered a similar scenario from her life. Living in the country, playing second place to pubs and bovines, being the farmer's daughter with little expectation of a future. The best she could have hoped for was to be a farmer's wife and pregnant at 18. It was that level of parochialism that drove her to the city, and ironically the same level of parochialism that drew her back all these years later. But she felt for Iris, the two women had become confidantes. She could see the discontent in Iris' eyes, the lack of affection, the distance in her and Dave's relationship. Iris was 'her', as she had been 20 years ago, so eager for bright lights and fast pace. A naive young thing looking for something more, some meaning in her life. Reya just hoped that Iris would not follow the same path. Hers had been a hard road.
Apart from the 'lilac underwear' incident, it had been ages since Iris and Dave were truly intimate. She often questioned whether she was still in love with him at all. They had sex but it was going through the motions, mutual masturbation rather than making love. The shop was a distraction but Iris wanted more. Some excitement, daring, challenge. She was still a young woman with a desire for risk.
While flicking through the Wiseman's Times, a tiny advertisement jumped out at her: "Dancing for Fitness - Tuesdays and Thursdays". The venue perturbed her but she called anyway and booked a Tuesday class. She told Dave, she was having drinks with the girls.
Reya had tried to push in the right direction.
"Iris, you need some adventure, a hobby, a distraction. Go find something, get out on your own, meet up with the girls . . play bloody Bingo if you have to."
"Actually," Iris lowers her head as she holds a hangar with a black diamante studded push-up bra and matching spandex shorts . . ."I just enrolled in a pole dancing class!"
Reya says nothing. Her memories of such things are not fond. What seemed like a good idea led to a life of seediness and degradation before turning a corner. She'd need to explain to her young protege one of these days.
Fitter than she'd thought, Iris had managed the basics and the class was fun. Hard but fun. The woman on the pole beside had been smiling at Iris through the entire routine. Her body tight, and lithe, she'd done this before. During one move, the two had slid and fallen, rolling into each other on the floor. There was a moment, just a moment, where they were in a fleeting embrace. Still lying and breathing hard, the other introduced herself as Dianne, before picking herself up, offering Iris a hand, and returning to their respective poles.
"Dianne . .." Iris thought to herself. She smelled of Calvin Klein and sex, and she looked bloody amazing.
The class ended, innocently enough. Dianne, towelled the sweat trickling down her cleavage.
"Hey, Iris! You did great for your first time. Do you have to go straight home? I'm heading down to the Settler's for a drink, come with?"
Iris looked at this lioness of a woman, tall, Amazonian, fit, and smiling at her as if they were old friends. Something stirred that she didn't understand but ultimately liked. There was a sense of the animal in this girl, voracious, confident, cat-like. And Dave would long be in the land of Nod.
"Sure, why not. That'd be lovely . . ."
'Drinks with the girls' would not be a lie, it just wouldn't be a whole truth. Iris felt better about not having to lie.
Muse 1 "The Seventh Goddess"Muse 2 "The Forensics of Spume"
Muse 3 "The Way of the North"
Muse 4 "Virginal Zoophilia"
Muse 5: "Stakes and Lies
Muse 6: "A Meal of Her Loins"
Muse 7: "Controlled Burn"
Muse 8: "Ghastly Truths"
Muse 9: "To Bury a Mountain"