Hands Off The New Girl

Author's note: This is a story for the 2025 "On The Job" Story Event.

My first year up north in Australia's Top End had been tough. The heat and humidity were brutal, but it was the clash of cultures that was harder to cope with. I was a city boy, born and bred, and my Territorian workmates reminded me of the fact at every opportunity.

"Don't forget to press your shirt tomorrow, Bazza," sang Darren ('Dazza') if he spotted me leaving the office. Okay, it was funny the first time, and admittedly I had overdressed a bit on my first day, but after a year, the joke was worn thin.

"Remember your dictionary of Australian slang, cobber?" asked Tug when we were leaving on a three-day field trip. He'd taken great pleasure in watching my bewilderment at the language of the outback on our first trip together. I hadn't thought that it was possible to swear that much in a single sentence.

Our team leader, Bruce, had joined in the fun and games. He'd been there for 20 years and was proud of the close-knit culture. He was a great guy and kept the team together well, but he pushed the boundaries well beyond anything that Head Office, "Down South" in the populated bits of Australia's East Coast, would have been happy with. The Friday night drinks to welcome me to the team had been down at the local strip club. In fact, most major events seemed at the pub with the strippers. Bruce said it was because they had the best beer, but I think he really just enjoyed an excuse to admire the tits on stage before going home to his missus. If you were in Bruce's team, you joined the office's Breast Appreciation Society and didn't complain. And Bruce had made sure that I was there every time there was a team meeting at pub, until he was happy that I was naturalized. Bruce's boss, the local manager, was based in the city office, and seemed to turn a blind eye to some of what went on.

Bruce and Dazza were both ex-Navy. Tug, perversely, had never been to sea despite the nickname. It took me ages to find out how he actually got the nickname: apparently he'd been caught having a wank by his workmates while on a week-long trip to repair some instruments.

That was what we did. We toured around Australia's north, maintaining and fixing flood gauges, weather instruments, communication stations and related gear, making sure they were in good condition before the Wet Season hit. When the weather was bad, we stayed in our air-conditioned workshop, taking gear apart and putting it back together, calibrating it, and preparing the vehicles for the next trip.

The trips were hard work, too. We tried to do several locations a day, often with hundreds of kilometres between them on tough dirt roads. Often we had to sleep out in swags as there were no local hotels, and if we got caught out in unexpected rain, it could be bloody awful. But it was a great job too, and I'd learned more in the first year about the 'real world' than I had during all my time at university, way back Down South where Australia's better universities are.

I'd learned to appreciate my workmates beyond first impressions too. I particularly liked Bruce and Dazza. They had their weak points, but they worked hard, were easy going, and had a huge store of filthy stories for road trips. Bruce was very straightforward as a boss: he would let you know if he was grumpy or you would have done better work, but he didn't mind praising you. Dazza, the oldest amongst us, was always supportive despite his rough exterior, and he'd made sure that I knew I could lean on him as needed while I was getting my feet on the ground.

Tug was more of a closed book. He was in his forties, dark haired, physically fit and carried himself like somebody in perpetual battle-readiness. His work was fine, but he didn't share any of his private thoughts with me, and sometimes it felt a bit like he was saying things that he was expected to say depending on who was in the audience. Once, for example, I was out of the room and heard him having an almighty bitch session with Dazza when we all had to do some online training. I wouldn't have thought that stuff like 'be fair to women and don't be a racist prick' was all that controversial, because that was all it was. He shut up as soon as I got back into the room. But we got on fine.

Anyway, after a year, I could swear with the best of them, and I knew a hell of a lot about the gear that we were working with. They rarely found anything to correct in my work. I really felt one of the team. We were four blokes, working smoothly and getting our job done.

Until the rug got pulled out from under us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The week started innocently enough. Dazza and I were in the workshop and were planning for the next trip, which was to be him and me doing a three-day circuit of some of the closer stations. It was a nice easy one.

Suddenly, we heard some explosive swearing from Bruce's office, and he stormed out, his face pale.

"Snakebite, mate?" enquired Dazza. "Better clean your office more often."

"That, I could cope with," said Bruce. He looked at me. "Barry," he said, putting on a posh voice and using my real name for a change, "you and I are summoned to the boss' office in town. Be on your best behaviour."

"What's going on?" asked Tug.

"There's a new team member arriving tomorrow from Down South," said Bruce. "Short notice: they were going to be going to Cairns but they've been sent here instead."

"That's good news," I said. "Isn't it?" I was really confused. It didn't sound like I was in trouble for anything. But why was I being called into a meeting with the regional manager?

"It's a woman," said Bruce. "Don't get me wrong, Bazza, I respect women, but we've tried that before and it just hasn't worked. They don't stay. Waste of effort."

Tug nodded and grunted in agreement, but Dazza couldn't resist a friendly dig at Bruce.

"Something to do with taking them down to Tits-Out-Tuesdays, I reckon" he said with a grin.

"I don't make them go," said Bruce defensively.

I stayed quiet. I would have thought that it was pretty obvious that the team culture needed to change if we wanted to attract women, but I suspected that Bruce didn't really want my opinion on that.

He gave me a bit of a rant on the way to the city office.

"Head Office thinks I'm a caveman, so they're probably prodding me by sending another woman here. What they don't appreciate is that I have a great team and the guys have stuck with me for years when most places lose staff every other week. If somebody new arrives, they have to work to fit in, and then they'll probably stay the course. You've done that, Bazza. Any new man or woman has to do that to. It's just that the women can't hack it so far. That's not my fault. The work up here is tough."

"Maybe she'll surprise you," I suggested nicely. "Maybe she's a butch lesbian who could wipe the floor with you in a fight and also appreciate a nice pair of tits on Tuesdays."

He snorted. "That'd be fine by me. I don't have any problem with carpet munchers."

I winced, but he was looking ahead as he drove, and didn't see it. I knew that he tried to be good to people of all types despite the derogatory language. He'd been completely relaxed when we'd dealt with people of all types when on trips together. He was also married to a Filipino woman and I'd never seen an ounce of racism from him. I could believe that he honestly tried to be fair to people, but he was such an 'ocker' kind of Aussie bloke that he was a bit hard for people to warm to when they met him, and they tended to assume the worst.

His blind spots though... you could drive a truck through them. That stuff about women not working in his team was well past its use-by date. The world had moved on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Regional Manager's office was much larger than Bruce's, and kept neat and tidy. Ray was his name. He'd been up here for a few years and was well respected, although I knew that Bruce didn't entirely trust him because he didn't get his hands dirty in the field. But he'd always been pleasant to me when I'd met him. I still had no idea why I was in this meeting though, and was worried about it.

Ray pulled up an email on his big screen, and swivelled it so that we could both read it. As Bruce had said, it was a short notice notification that we were getting a new technician. Her name was Michelle. It didn't give much background, but she had been to the same University as me, studied a broad-based course that included biology and a couple of languages, and graduated as an electrical engineer. She'd apparently decided against an office-based career and had joined us because she wanted a hands-on job. There was also a note that her performance in the in-house training course had been excellent – she was top of her class.

"Impressive," said Bruce, obviously mindful of showing a positive attitude.

"Isn't she?" affirmed Ray wryly. "So we want to keep her, don't we, Bruce?"

He turned to me. "Barry, the reason you're here is that you have a similar background to Michelle, and you are better presented and a bit more up to date with modern sensibilities than the other Neanderthals in Bruce's team. I'm going to ask you to be Michelle's mentor. See if you can convince her to stay with us."

"Okay," I said uncertainly. "Although the others know much more than me. And I'm meant to be going on a field trip tomorrow..."

Ray looked at Bruce. "Can you send Dazza and Tug on the trip?"

Bruce nodded. "If Tug can't go at short notice, I'll do it."

"That's sorted then," said Ray. "Just one other thing. Work and play don't mix. Nobody is to hit on Michelle. No sexual innuendo. No smacking of her arse, no comments on looks. We don't want a situation like last time, Bruce. You two are accountable for that. She needs to feel safe from male attention. If I hear otherwise from her, I'll cut off your balls. Got it?"

"Got it!" we responded, as obedient as schoolchildren.

"And that goes for field trips, too," he added. "It doesn't matter how far you are out of the workshop. You're travelling on government dollar, so you're at work. One person per swag. Right?"

"Right!" we chorused again.

Damn. I had to admit that I'd had the odd "sex at work" fantasy, although the reality was far from it, particularly working with these blokes. It would have been nice to loosen things up a little, but obviously we were going to be watched carefully. And that gap between fantasy and reality needed to stay firmly in place, or I was just as bad as the others. The dinosaurs died out before the Neanderthals even existed, Barry. The boss had been clear, and I would do my best.

In the car going back to the workshop, I took a risk.

"What did Ray mean about last time Bruce? You told me it was a team culture clash."

He frowned at me. "The girl that we had a couple of years ago said some things about one of the other team members. There was no evidence. Nothing in it. She left to get another job interstate. Case closed, you would think, but the mud has stuck to me."

Hmm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next day, I was at the airport, holding up a sign and feeling foolish. I had no idea what Michelle looked like, and I didn't dare ask Head Office to send a photo. Social media was no help either: she clearly kept herself private. So, the sign had her name on it, and I was scanning every female face that looked vaguely suitable as the plane disembarked.

Just as I was starting to think that she'd missed the flight, a face lit up and its owner waved at me.

"That's me!" she said cheerfully, and stuck out her hand, shaking mine enthusiastically. She was a little shorter than me.

"Barry," I said, and then added awkwardly, "although they mostly call me Bazza."

She laughed. "Which do you prefer?"

"Actually I prefer Barry," I admitted

"Barry it is then, and I'm fine with Michelle, but my friends call me Shelly."

"So what would you like your workmates to call you?"

"You can call me Shelly, but if I ask you to call me Michelle, you'll know you've been bad," she said with a smile.

She had a nice smile.

She had a nice everything. I was trying not to stare, but I managed to steal some looks at her as we headed to the baggage carousel. She was a brunette, light freckles, curly hair, hazel eyes, and a trim body. She was wearing khaki pants that gave her a bit of freedom to move, and still showed off a well-rounded backside. A loose white cotton shirt over a tight black t-shirt hid her bust a little, but she clearly cut a fine figure as a woman, as they say in the literary classics. And even more importantly, on first impressions she was friendly and easy-going. This was looking like a great mentoring gig, and as long we could navigate the team dynamics, maybe it was going to be okay.

"So what's the deal today?" she asked as we waited for her luggage.

"It depends on you a bit, Shelly," I said. "You've had a six-hour flight. But if you've got the energy, we'll get you checked into the hotel, and then I'll take you to meet the big boss, Ray, and the admin team at the city office, and then drop by the workshop to meet our team leader, Bruce. And then that will probably do it for the day. I've been assigned to help you settle in, so I can drop you off again at the hotel and pick you up tomorrow to start your induction properly."

She looked at me sideways for a second. "Lucky for me I got you then, Barry. This should be fun."

I didn't think she meant that ironically, but I wasn't sure and just gave her an uncertain smile in response.

We got her checked into the hotel. It wasn't exactly the finest establishment in town, unfortunately, as I knew from staying there the previous year.

"It's a bit of a dive, I'm sorry," I said as I helped her carry her things to her room. "Admin are a bit stingy. They'll give you three weeks here while you're looking for somewhere to rent though. And the pool isn't too bad."

Shelly just laughed. "I've stayed in worse. As long as there isn't a randy couple next door banging on the walls all night, it's okay. I like my sleep."

"Actually, I did have that last year," I said ruefully. "Whispers and moans until 2am. A young Army couple. It was a struggle to look them in their faces at breakfast. But they were okay. Lucky them, anyway."

"I know what you mean, Barry." She rolled her eyes.

I took a chance. "No partner, Shelly?"

"Nope. I had a bit of a thing with a guy from work during training. But I realised recently that that was a bad idea. He went to Cairns, but I saw the light and asked to be switched to here at the last minute."

Ah. That explains a hell of a lot, I thought to myself. I reckon that Ray knew a lot more than he was letting on. Also, she's not a lesbian.

I waited outside while she freshened up, and then we jumped back in the car and headed to the city office. While we were waiting for Ray to be available, I gave her a quick tour and then made a special point of introducing her to the local Admin officer, Jenny. Jenny was late middle-aged, greying hair that she had died pink, and overweight with a strong reputation as a sweet tooth. She was pleasant enough, but lost no time in quizzing Shelly about herself, where she was from, what football team she supported, and whether she had a partner in the wings.

"Never piss off Jenny. If she's on your side, great things can happen," I said to her while we were waiting to see Ray. "But don't expect much help if you haven't smoothed the path first. She's probably a bit miffed that she didn't have the inside running on your reasons for switching to come here, but she's trying to be nice regardless."

"She's just like my aunt," Shelly replied. "I'll do some baking. If I can't melt her with my chocolate brownies, there's no hope."

"You've got to watch the humidity here. Bake things that won't absorb moisture immediately," I advised.

"Spoken like a hydrologist" she laughed.

"Or somebody who knows more about mould that he ever wanted to," I said. "You'll be keeping more things in the fridge than you expected."

Ray had just come out of his office when I said that. "If you're bringing a small fridge up, don't even bother unpacking it," he said. "Sell it and lash out on a big one, and you'll thank yourself later." He introduced himself and invited us into his inner sanctum. I noticed that Michelle hadn't invited him to call her "Shelly", and caught myself feeling a warm glow from being on the inside circle. Of course she would want some professional distance from the boss.

It was a bit of an awkward conversation. Ray wanted to make a good impression, but he circled around what he really wanted to say: he told her that he was really glad that she'd chosen to come to our office and was emphasising that if she had any issues at all, his "door was always open." Which was an obvious lie, of course since it had been closed when we got there and we'd had to wait to see him. Honestly, why couldn't managers just be upfront and say things like "I've got a million meetings in my day, but here's how to get my attention..."? And I was getting sick of the meaningful looks that he was giving me. I knew my brief.

Finally, I cracked. "Boss, do you mind if I say something in more direct language?"

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded for me to continue. Oh well, if he was going to give me rope to hang myself, I might as well do it.

I turned to Shelly. "Michelle, what Ray is avoiding saying is that our team leader and colleagues can come across as troglodytes who aren't comfortable with women in the team. And to some extent that's true. But they're also great people and you can trust them with your life. If there are any issues with them, Ray will be responsive. I'll also be there as your direct support."

Ray choked a bit as I was saying this, but Shelly burst out laughing.

"Thank fuck for that!" she said. "I was hoping to hear some of the famous direct language of Territorians. Ray, if I have your permission to stir things up a little, then it's good to know you have my back. And I'm here to learn as well, so Barry thanks for your honest opinion of the team. I'll give them due respect but I'll call out any issues that really bother me."

Ray nodded, smiling wryly. "Thanks, Barry, for cutting to the chase. I've clearly been spending too much time visiting Head Office and learning how to speak bullshit. Michelle, I reckon you'll be fine with a good attitude like that. Just text me directly if you need to."

After we left, Shelly gave me a considering look. "Anything else you're holding back, Barry?"

"Ray has given Bruce and me chapter and verse about looking after you. He'll have our balls if anything happens to you. So I guess, I'm going to be asking that you make sure you do tell me first if you have any issues, so that I get a chance to fix things up before he brings out his butcher's knife."

She smiled, thinking through what I'd said.

"It's a situation ripe with possibility, don't you think, Barry?" she said, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't abuse my powers."

I nodded, grimly, not entirely comfortable. We would just have to see how it went.

"Also," I added, "there was some particular drama with the last woman in the team. I've got no idea what it was, and I don't know her side of the story. For what it's worth, I reckon you should just be yourself and they'll quickly work out that not all people are the same."

She nodded, looking more thoughtful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With that out of the way, we headed out to the workshop. Bruce was the only one there, since the others had gone on the field trip. He was better dressed than usual, and met Shelly with obvious trepidation, stumbling over his words a little as he remembered to not swear. It was kind of funny to see a 50-something year old disconcerted by a young woman, but I guess I'd been a bit on edge as well. She was enjoying the situation, and didn't say too much to put him at ease. She kept her language polite, and expressed warm appreciation for him welcoming her at short notice.

"I'm looking forward to learning from you and the other team members. Barry here tells me that I'll meet them next week. And I know that theory and practice are different, so don't hold back if you don't think I'm getting my hands dirty enough."

Bruce relaxed a little when she said this, but he was still uncomfortable. He asked me to show her the ropes, and retreated to his office. I gave her the basic rundown but then noticed that her attention was starting to wander after her long day, and took her back to her hotel. I didn't offer to take her out for dinner or anything, of course. Rules are rules. But I did arrange to pick her up in the morning. Her car was being transported on a truck and would arrive the following week, and the public transport here wasn't all that great.

After some thought, I did one more thing before going home. I went and bought some nice chocolates and then popped back into the city office. Everybody had gone home already, but I left the chocolates on Jenny's desk, with a little Post-it note thanking her for her help. It never hurt to be ahead of the game.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shelly was looking pretty seedy when I picked her up in the morning.

"You know how we were joking about whispers and moans next door, and you told me about the army couple?" she said as she got in the car.

I raised an eyebrow, and she nodded tiredly.

"Yep. It must be a thing here. This couple didn't stop until 3 am. I started banging on the walls at 1 am, but they ignored me."

"Have you told the manager yet?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to make a fuss, really. It's not a big deal." But her body language wasn't in tune with her words.

"Do you mind if I make a fuss?" I said. "I'll be nice, but I've got some pre-positioned artillery ready to go."

"Sure," she said, and she suddenly looked more relaxed.

We got back out of the car and I marched into the hotel reception in front of her. It was a small place, and the manager was staffing the front counter herself. I remembered dealing with her a year previously. She was thirtyish, harried. She didn't remember me, of course.

I launched in. "My colleague here has been kept awake by a randy couple bonking until 3am. Could you please move them away from her, or better, upgrade her room to get her away from them?"

She raised her eyes and gave me the expected defence. "Sorry, but we're pretty full," she said. "These things happen. I can ask them to be a bit quieter tonight."

I smiled pleasantly, stepped away from the desk, and took out my phone to dial Jenny in Admin. I knew that she would already be at work. Her greeting was unusually warm: good, she had found the chocolates. I quickly explained the situation to her, while the manager looked at us uncomfortably.

"Is it Bethany who's on duty?" asked Jenny.

I looked at the manager's badge. "Yes."

"Put me onto her. I know her mother."

I handed the phone over, and watched Bethany's face change as Jenny spoke. It didn't take long for the call to finish up.

Bethany looked at Shelly differently as she handed the phone back to me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realise who you worked with. If you don't mind checking out of your room this morning, I can put you in the upstairs apartment with a kitchen straight away."

We thanked her sweetly, and I went with Shelly to help her pack up her room and move to the new one.

"This is great," she said, looking around with satisfaction. "I guess I can cook those fudge brownies for Jenny tonight with this kitchen. I owe her."

"Good move. You can see what a small town this is, too." She nodded, and when we finished the room move, we headed straight to the workshop for a late start to the working day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things went well that day, and for the rest of the week. Shelly was a quick study and didn't need to be shown something more than twice. We finished a couple of instrument overhauls together, and I showed her our electronic records system and various other things. Bruce was a bit cautious and formal still, and pretty much left us alone, apart from occasional awkward conversations. I was careful too, trying to not pry too much into her background or trespass into her personal space. I picked her up and dropped her off, but didn't ask her out in the evening or anything. I really didn't want screw this up.

When the weekend hit, I was really tempted to offer to show her around a bit more, but decided not to unless she hinted that she wanted company. Which she didn't. Instead, I went to the pub by myself on Friday evening after dropping her off at the hotel, and met up with a mate from work. He worked in a different section, in the city office. He was a few years older, but we had hit it off when playing together in the office mixed netball team. Come to think of it.... I made a mental note to try and get Shelly involved when the season started up again.

I told him about my week, and he laughed and sympathised in the right places. But then he got serious.

"I knew the last woman that they put in that team. She was a good sort. She left the year before you arrived."

"And?"

"Get a diary, Bazza. Actually, buy two, so that you can give one to Michelle. Both of you need to write an entry in your own handwriting, every day after work, without comparing notes."

"Huh?" Clearly, I was still a bit clueless.

"That gives you two independent accounts in case anything screwy happens. Hopefully there's no issue, but just in case."

Hmm. Here I was, thinking I was managing just fine, but apparently, I was a babe in the woods. I thanked him, and we parted ways.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I picked up Shelly bright and early on Monday. She told me brightly that she'd had a good weekend exploring the city alone, although with a slight emphasis on the word "alone" that made me regret not bending things a little more and spending time with her. She'd also started to look at rental properties. She would get more serious about that when her car arrived.

I took a deep breath and dug out the diaries. I'd been thinking about how to pitch this. "Tug and Dazza are back today after their field trip," I launched in. "The team dynamics are going to be more complicated. I'd like you to start keeping a personal diary about your work experiences if you don't mind, just in case there are any things that we need to discuss with the boss later. I'll be doing the same."

She looked surprised. "Do you think that's necessary?"

"I'm not sure. So... maybe? It won't hurt, anyway."

She nodded, thoughtfully, and tucked the diary away in her bag.

We got to the office before the others, and started on our jobs for the week. I'd had a week's leave booked the following week to go and see my aging parents "Down South", and after discussion with Bruce had received his encouragement to ahead and take the time, leaving Shelly to work with the others. But I had some tasks to get through during the week, so that we would be on schedule for a trip straight after I got back. It was a busy time of year, trying to get things done before the Wet Season.

Bruce arrived shortly after, and the others turned up after about half an hour. Tug and Dazza had brought their Toyota Landcruiser back fully loaded with the gear from their trip, and I dragged Shelly out to help them unload. Better to meet somebody in the context of doing something useful than standing around awkwardly. They both greeted her warmly, although Tug didn't say much, as usual. When Shelly's back was turned and she wasn't looking, Dazza rose his eyebrows in appreciation, nodded towards her shapely backside, and gave me a wink. I just wagged my finger back at him to tell him off. Bruce happened to see this interaction as he was walking out of his office, and also wagged his finger back at Dazza with a smirk.

With all hands on deck, we got the unloading done quickly, and then sat around for a morning brew while the guys gave their debrief. The trip had gone pretty well, but one of the stations needed a return visit to reinstall a part that unexpectedly needed repair in the workshop. They had brought the part back with them. Normally, they would have just installed a spare as part of the reliability-centred maintenance strategy, but they hadn't had a spare for this one.

"Bazza and Michelle will do that in a couple of weeks during their trip," Bruce decided. "Tug, you can go through the repair with Michelle next week while Bazza's on leave."

With that all sorted out, we got on with our work.

The week went fairly smoothly, although the other guys were still a bit awkward around Shelly. There was a slightly hilarious but off-putting moment on Tuesday when Bruce announced that it was time for our offsite team meeting and lunch. We drove in two separate cars to the local shopping centre, where our regular pub was, next to a café. But Bruce had obviously forgotten to give Dazza and Tug the memo about a change in venue: they arrived after us and headed straight to the pub, whereas the three of us had gone to the café and were impatiently waiting for them.

When Bruce realised what had happened, he cursed and ran to get them with a muttered excuse. I couldn't help myself: I cracked up in laughter.

"What's going on?" Shelly asked me, baffled.

"Bruce normally runs these meetings at the pub, where there's a strip show at lunchtimes," I explained. "He's realised that that's no longer appropriate, but he forgot to tell the others. I'm sorry that you are having to deal with us catching up the 21st century."

Shelly, bless her, just smirked. "I'll do what I can to help," she said.

"Sorry about the confusion," said Bruce when the three of them came inside the café.

"That's okay," said Shelly. "And I agree that it's a bit quieter here. I admire the confidence of the strippers, but I've found that the music and the hoots and whistles can get a bit distracting in work meetings."

Dazza gave a snort of amusement and an approving look at her, while Bruce looked embarrassed and shot me a glare for letting the secret out. Tug just stared at her intently for a second, saying nothing. It was almost like he was trying to imagine her up on the stage. I jumped up and took coffee orders from everybody to diffuse the situation, but Tug's look had disconcerted me, and I thought that Shelly had seen it too. But she didn't say anything about it when I was driving her to the hotel later, and I decided to let it lie. I can be a coward sometimes.

Shelly's car arrived on Wednesday, so she didn't need any help from me for transport or in her hunt for rental properties. I realised on Thursday that I had really enjoyed being helpful to her and connecting to her without the others around, and then of course I told myself off for mooning over a work colleague.

Yes, she's lively, she's attractive, and I enjoy her company, but she's a colleague, not a lover.

Ah well. Dreaming is free.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By Friday, Shelly had found a place to rent. She was going to take a day off the following week for her downlift. I was going to be away on my leave, and apologised that I couldn't offer to help. The others did offer, but she waved them away.

"It's fine," she said sweetly. "I don't have many things and the removalists will do the heavy lifting."

I had a big day on Friday, trying to finish up maintenance and repair jobs so that we were ready for the trip after I got back from leave. One thing that I'd been working on was to try and rig up a flood surveillance camera that would run on solar power and also give us a bit of basic security around the site. We'd been trying some off-the-shelf solutions, but I'd been tweaking the setup for better power management and the right image capture settings for what we needed. I had it running on my desk, hooked up to the battery that the solar panel would be charging.

"That's okay. I'll keep it running during the week you're away," said Shelly when she saw me still working on it after the others had left for the day.

"Thanks. I think that it should run for a week now without any solar recharge and without too much drain on the battery, but I just want to be sure," I explained. "If we run it inside with the motion sensing settings on, that should really test it out when everybody is here and active."

I hesitated, and then plunged on. "You should be right with the others while I'm away, shouldn't you? And don't forget the boss said you could talk to him if there are any issues. But you've got my number too and I don't mind being called while on leave."

"I'll be fine," she reassured me. "I'm a big girl."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I didn't hear from her while I was on leave, and I was pretty busy with family things anyway. I resisted the temptation to message her. As she'd reminded me, she was an adult, and well able to cope with issues arising. But when I arrived back at work on the Monday morning after my leave, all keen to finish preparations for the trip, she wasn't there.

I poked my head into Bruce's office. "Have you heard from Michelle? Were there any dramas last week?"

He looked at me blankly. "No, and not really. Tug said that she was a bit of a slow learner, but I think we just need to give her time."

I was puzzled. "She's been really quick with the jobs we've been doing together. Never mind. I guess she'll be here soon, and I'll get started on loading up the car for tomorrow and finishing the paperwork."

Bruce just nodded and grunted. He was obviously still a bit grumpy following the pub incident, and I think that I'd interrupted him checking his superannuation balance or something. He didn't have long to go until retirement.

Shelly arrived about a half an hour later, apologetic but without much explanation. Dazza and Tug were in the office, and I decided to not press her at all until we had privacy. We got on with our preparations, and then I invited her to come with me while we went down to the tyre shop to sort out an issue with one of our spares.

"You okay?" I asked her as soon as we were driving.

"I think so," she said quietly. "But last week was harder than I thought it would be, and I really struggled to come into the office today. It was only that I knew you were there and needed me that got me out of bed, really."

I was really alarmed, hearing this. This was so far different from the Shelly that I'd been getting to know. What on earth had happened?

"Was it something specific?" I asked carefully.

"It was just.... little things," she replied. "Nothing worth calling you about. Just some odd stuff. Unsettling. I've kept a diary like you asked."

The conversation was interrupted by our arrival at the tyre shop, but we got our problem fixed quickly, and I suggested that we stop at the café for a coffee on the way back. Shelly reached into her bag and got out her diary, leafing through the pages to find what she wanted. I saw that she'd written long entries for every day – she'd been much more conscientious than I had with it, and I resolved to fix that problem as soon as possible.

"Bruce and Dazza I can deal with," she said. "Yes, they're relics, but they're okay. It's Tug. I'm sorry, I know you think he's alright. But he creeps me out."

"Don't worry about what I think. What did he do?"

"Like I said, little things. Every job I did with him, I was just a little bit wrong somehow, according to him. And he'd have to get right up close to me, and show me how, but I swear I'd been doing it okay. And there was one time..." she trailed off.

"Yes?" I said encouragingly.

She leafed through her diary and found the spot. "It seems so trivial. But I put a screwdriver down next to me while I was working, and used it occasionally. And every time I reached to pick it up without looking, it had moved. Just a little bit. But enough to make me feel uncertain, unsure of myself. And I'm sure that he did it deliberately. But who would do that?"

"Did you note when that happened?" I asked.

"Yes, it was on Wednesday, after lunch. But it's hardly a reportable incident. It's just... creepy. Annoying. And maybe I imagined it."

I had an idea. "That flood camera that we were testing. Did it run okay all week?"

"Yes," she said puzzled, and then her eyes lit up as she realised what I was getting at. "Oh! Yes, I'll have a look."

The camera had been set up pointing towards our work desks, so that the motion capture could be tested. When we got back to the workshop, Shelly quietly swapped the memory card out of it, and put in her pocket, with a nod at me. She seemed a bit more cheerful. We got on with our preparations, and were finishing up when the others were ready to knock off for the day. We ran through our plans with Bruce, who gave his approval for the work plan and the health and safety plan. Bruce was in better spirits as well, but took me aside and reminded me of what the boss had said to us about this being a work trip and his expectations on me. I just nodded seriously. I wouldn't be discussing Shelly's concerns with him until I'd talked with her more.

"Right, let's look," said Shelly briskly after they'd gone home. She loaded the surveillance video in her computer and found the right time. It had no sound on it, but after watching for a while, I just nodded at her, speechless. What had she described was absolutely correct. Every time that she had put the screwdriver down, Tug had found an opportunity to just move it slightly, with no apparent motive other than to disconcert her. We could see him watching her and her reactions carefully, with a thin smile whenever he'd managed to put her off her game.

"It's like a schoolboy pouring hot water on some beetles, just to torment them," I said. "It's petty, mindlessness, but vicious. And he told the boss you were a slow learner."

"I'm not sure how I feel about being compared to a beetle," she said drily. "But I know what you mean. This isn't enough to get him into serious trouble though, is it? It's nasty, but he'd just get a slap on the wrist."

"You're right, I think, unfortunately," I said. "We could probably convince Ray to refer it to HR, but they'd probably just counsel him to be more respectful."

"I feel better now that I know I was right," she said, "and thank you for believing me too. I might almost ask if you set up the camera like that accidentally-on-purpose, but I'm not going to grill you there because I'm sure that deliberate surveillance of colleagues would be a workplace offence of some kind. Should we talk more during our trip?"

I agreed, and we headed to our homes to get ourselves ready for the rest of the week.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We headed off the next day, after going through a final checklist with Bruce. This was an easy trip: if everything went well, the pace would be relaxed, and we'd have basic motel rooms every night, although we had swags and camping gear with us just in case. It was filthy hot and there were a lot of towering tropical thunderstorms about, so camping wasn't a great option, but it would work. The trip was scheduled for three nights, returning on Friday

The first day was all fine. We started with replacing that part that Dazza and Tug had had to bring back for repair, and then we moved on to the station that the surveillance camera was destined for, which was only three hours drive away. We spent several hours there setting things up and giving the station a tidy-up, and by then the sun was starting to set. We got to our motel, hot, sweaty and filthy, and freshened ourselves up before meeting for dinner. It was typical outback pub food. The company was good, the beer was cold, and there was an interesting mix of people in the pub. We might have been still in the workplace in the boss' opinion, but it was a heck of a lot better than the workshop, and I could see that Shelly's mood had lifted hugely compared to the previous day.

There was a lot of driving on the second day of the trip: nearly five hours of dusty, corrugated roads, and just a bit of bitumen. We also had a flat tyre, which cost us an hour of sweaty, swearing time to change, and just after that we had to pull over in a thunderstorm that reduced visibility to nothing and created flash flooding and muddy, slippery patches of road. By the time we'd done all our jobs and reached the motel for the night, it was an hour past sunset. There were more thunderstorms flashing away in the distance, and heading our way: I was glad that we'd have a roof over our heads.

There was bad news at the motel reception. "You're late checking in," said the manager, looking at me. "Sorry luv, but I gave your room away to somebody who really needed it. Yours is okay," she added, looking at Shelly.

I swore under my breath. Jenny in Admin wouldn't be able to help with this one. And while I'd had the "just one bed" fantasy before, this would be a terrible time to try it out, particularly when Shelly was getting harassment from another team member. She needed to be able to trust me.

Unexpectedly, Shelly jumped right in.

"Can you put a portable bed in my room for my mate here?" she asked the manager.

"Sorry, we don't have any left," was the response. She was being as unhelpful as possible.

"Well, we'll put a swag down on the floor, and we only expect to be charged for a single person," said Shelly, in a tone that brooked no argument, and held out her hand for the room key.

"You didn't have to do that, Shelly," I said as we walked away. "I'll set up a tent outside."

"Like hell you will, Barry, or I'll be reporting you for a health and safety breach" she responded, and there was a crack of thunder outside to underline her point. We dashed out to get what we needed from the car, dumped it into the room, and then went to get something to eat before the kitchen closed.

Back in the room after dinner, we had a good look at the situation. The room had a double bed and a little bit of floor space, which was really just enough for the things we'd hauled in from the car. Getting the swag down on the floor wouldn't be possible without moving the bed hard against the wall, and even then it would be tight.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Shelly held up her hand to stop me.

"Barry, I want you to listen to me. I know that you can't possibly suggest that we share the bed. I know you've been told that there will be hell to pay if you make a pass at me. But, if it's okay, I would like to share this bed with you as a colleague. I will be recording in my diary that there was only one room and you slept in the swag. I trust you. Is that okay?"

I thought through what she'd said, and nodded. "Thanks, Shelly. That works for me. Would you like the first shower? At least let me get my way with that one."

She grinned and nodded, grabbed her things and headed for the bathroom while I sorted my stuff out, and then I took my turn when she was done, slipping into bed next to her a bit self-consciously. I was wearing boxers and a t-shirt to sleep in, and she had a nice sleepshirt in lime green. It felt very intimate, particularly when she cuddled up to me, spooning my back.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "I actually feel a bit cold with the air-conditioning on and the thermostat doesn't seem to work properly."

I gave a low laugh. "Shelly, this is the stuff of field technician fantasy. Of course I don't mind."

"Don't tell the other guys, whatever you do," she said. "Not even Dazza, although he's a nice guy."

"He's married, too," I said. I was wrestling with a new issue by this stage. I had a rock-hard erection, and there was no way that I could do anything about that without her noticing. It was a diabolical situation, although much better than if I'd been cuddling up to one of the guys.

Her mind had gone elsewhere. "I wonder how I should deal with Tug?" she mused. "I'm enjoying this job apart from him."

I was tired and a bit brain-dead, but at least this was a distraction from my boner, the feel of her soft breasts in my back and her breath in my ear.

"You don't have to do it alone," I said. "Ideally, we could entrap him in something where he unambiguously has to go."

"I wonder what his next move will be?" she wondered.

"I think that we could find out," I suddenly said. "We have to track down the last woman who left the team. I bet he's got a pattern that he follows."

She gave me a squeeze with her free hand. "Good thought. Let's get onto that next week. And thanks."

With that, she rolled away from me, giving me a little space, and was soon snoring softly. My boner had subsided a little bit, and I crept out of bed to find another blanket in the cupboard, putting it over both of us while the air conditioner hummed and the rain poured down outside.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I woke the next morning, I had twisted in the bed to be spooning her, my arm around her. I had morning wood, and it was pressing into her lovely backside. I quickly shuffled away, hoping that she hadn't noticed.

Fat chance. "I was enjoying that," she said, twisting her neck to look at me with an evil grin. "Don't worry, I knew you were asleep. I won't be filing a report."

"Sorry," I said ruefully.

"I'm flattered. I have to assume that you were dreaming of me." She stretched, and then rolled out of bed to go to the bathroom. She absent-mindedly scratched her bottom as she went, lifting her sleep shirt up a bit to show some of a shapely cheek. She didn't seem to be wearing any knickers: how had I missed that detail during the night?

"I'll just have a quick shower if that's okay, and then give you some space," she called out through the door. She'd left it partly open, and I could hear that she was on the toilet. It felt for all of the world like we were a domestic couple.

"That's fine," I replied, and then tried hard to not imagine her in the shower. That got a lot more difficult when I heard her cry out softly above the noise of the water. It was quickly suppressed, but she was definitely giving herself a quick jilling.

This is getting fucking ridiculous, I thought to myself. Yes, it was a work trip, but my very attractive colleague had invited me into her bed, cuddled up to me all night, and now was frigging herself in the shower with the door left open. How much could a man take? It was clear that an advance from me would be welcome, but I decided to play it as cool as I could manage. I gritted my teeth and got out of bed to find some clothes for the day, my flagpole lewdly tenting my boxers.

I heard a noise behind me, and then a snort of laughter. Shelly was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, wrapped loosely in a towel, her hair wet, hands to her mouth as she gazed at me and my most prominent feature. She looked adorable. I didn't try to cover up: I figured that since she'd invited me to sleep with her and had not been at all shy, the views that we were exchanging went with the territory. And, much as I've talked about her and her looks, I knew my body was nothing to be sneezed at. Two could play in a teasing game.

"I won't be long in the shower," I said with a smile, and squeezed past her to get to the bathroom, carrying my things. "We can have breakfast together?"

I left the bathroom door open behind me while I organised myself, took off my shirt, and then turned around to find that she was watching me closely through the open doorway.

Let's ramp this up a notch.

"Shelly, I'll hang your towel up if you like?" I reached out, and quickly whipped the towel off her, turning my back on her as she squealed in surprise.

"You bastard!" she called through the doorway, but she was giggling. I threw my boxers through at her and then closed the door partway and got in the shower, smirking to myself. I was still rock-hard, but I decided to restrain myself from a quick wank, and hoped that I would be able to calm down enough to use the toilet later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We managed to get to breakfast without any further mayhem and started planning for the day seriously. I was worried about the state of the roads: there was a lot of water lying around the motel after the storm.

"Lucky there's some slack time in the program," Shelly said.

"Not luck," I said, "but planning. We usually allow extra time on the last full day because thing always go wrong somewhere. If nothing goes wrong, we can use those extra couple of hours for free time. I know a good swimming spot."

"Feed the new girl to the crocodiles?" she asked.

"Probably no crocs. At least there weren't last time."

"I'm so reassured", she said

Amazingly, the morning went well, and we got to our last maintenance visit for the day by lunchtime. After a quick break, we got through the jobs there quickly. Everything was operating smoothly, so it was just a clean and some routine replacements for parts that were approaching the end of their life. Bruce was really strong about that principle: it was much more expensive to send a crew out to do an urgent fix during a bad weather situation than to replace the part before it broke. The old parts could often just be refurbished in the workshop as well, and deployed again as good as new on a subsequent visit. We were reaping the rewards for the strategy: there were few call-outs, which meant less overtime but more predictable lives. It mattered, particularly for those with young families juggling children.

By mid-afternoon, we were at the turn-off to the swimming hole. I looked at Shelly, and she nodded.

We were well past the tourist season, and there were only a couple of cars in the car park when we got there. I parked under some shade, and where there was a shrub blocking the government logo on one side of the vehicle, and then I arranged a small tarp that we carried so that it covered the logo on the other side and also obscured the amount of gear that we were carrying in the back.

Shelly was watching in bemusement. "Okay, so here's the awkward bit," I said. "It's better if we pretend to be a couple on an outback trip than a couple of government workers taking time out to go swimming. I mean, we don't want to give the wrong impression."

"Or the right impression," Shelly said drily. "That's fine. And you can tell people that I snore as long as you don't mind me talking about that thing that was poking me in the arse this morning."

"Or those noises in the shower?"

She blushed. "You weren't meant to hear that!"

"Wasn't I?"

"Okay, maybe a little," she conceded. "Maybe there was meant to be a possibility that you could hear, and the answer was going to be left hanging so that I could imagine things either way. A little bit of Schrödinger for our morning, but now we know."

"Well, I guess the cat survived," I said. "A bit of live pussy to start the day."

She snorted, her blush deepening. I could feel that I was blushing myself, and I changed the subject. "Um, I forgot to tell you to bring swimming togs."

"I've got some shorts I can use, and I guess a t-shirt," she said. "I'd ask you to not stare at me when the t-shirt's wet, but that might be a bit redundant after this morning."

"I didn't stare this morning. Should I pretend that I did, so that we can say it doesn't matter now?"

That got another laugh from her. She didn't reply to the question though, and I suspected that she wanted to leave the answer to that question ambiguous as well.

We gave each other a bit of space on either side of the car while we got changed and headed down to the swimming hole. It was a large, open pool of freshwater at the foot of a large sandstone escarpment. A thin waterfall trickled down at the far end. There were four people swimming over there. They looked to be two retired couples. We waved at them, but they were too far away to talk to. We eased ourselves into the water. It was warm but still refreshing in the heat of the afternoon. We lazily paddled over to a low rock in the middle of the pool and sat there for a few minutes, admiring the beautiful surroundings.

Shelly was sitting with her legs in the water. As foreshadowed, her t-shirt was soaking from the swim to the rock, and was clinging to some spectacular breasts. They were large, naturally shaped, and her nipples were prominent. I tried to not stare but I failed, and she caught me, digging me in the ribs with her elbow to get my attention.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know it's no excuse, but those are absolutely superb boobs. I'll try to stop leering, if you'll just give me a minute first....?"

She raised an eyebrow at this, but then she smiled and stuck out her chest some more. "It's okay. I started it last night. As long as it's just you and not the others, I don't mind a bit of back and forth."

We weren't the only creatures appreciating our surroundings. At this stage of the year, many waterholes were dry, and the persistent ones like this one got a lot of wildlife. There were sea eagles flying high over the edge of the escarpment, soaring on the thermals from the heated rock and looking for fish in the pool. We saw a pair of Azure Kingfishers, shimmering in blue and orange plumage, darting around the edge of the pool, and there were lots of insects buzzing around. A big goanna come down to the water's edge, and I pointed it out to her.

"Work health and safety quiz time, Shelly. What do you do if a goanna runs towards you?"

"Remain calm, back away slowly, try to not look a tree," she said instantly.

"And why don't we want to look like a tree?"

"Because they have sharp claws and you don't want them climbing you in a panic," she said. "We got the same lecture on bush safety during training that you did."

"So you know about saltwater crocs, obviously," I said. "Incidentally Tug's scared rigid of them. Just file that away for future reference. Now tell me about dealing with freshwater crocs?"

"Freshies are common in places like this but will try and avoid us," she said. "Try not to surprise them though or they can give a nasty bite."

"You may have had the same lecture, but you listened better than I did," I said. "I had to fill in my knowledge by listening to the guys tell wildlife stories for hours on end. But I did learn some new things."

"Okay, surprise me then, Darren. What did you learn from them that we didn't get taught in training?"

"Did you know about black kites and fires?" I asked.

"Nope."

"This one blew my mind, but it's true. There are lots of birds of prey here, but these buggers are the smartest. Every dry season when the burning-off starts, there are heaps of black kites that hang around the edges of the fires, looking for little morsels like native mice and lizards that are running away from the fires." I paused.

"And?"

"And if the fires aren't spreading enough for the black kites to get a good feed, sometimes they pick up a burning branch and drop it somewhere else to help the fires spread. They use fire as a weapon. That must make them well along the path of evolution."

She laughed. "Bastards! Is this really true though, or just a myth to scare off the tourists?"

"No, it's really true," I said. "They're also called 'firehawks'. You can look it up."

"You wouldn't want to crossbreed them with Australian magpies," she said. "You know how they have intergenerational memories of who's nice to them and who's not? What if they started firebombing us?"

We were interrupted by the other group of swimmers, who had paddled over to say hello on their way out of the pool. They were in their sixties or thereabouts, and in good shape. They explained that they were from Perth, touring Australia on an extended post-retirement trip like so many other "grey nomads".

There was one difference between them and other retirees that I'd seen up here, though. These ones didn't seem to have any swimwear on, at least on their upper bodies. The women were both definitely topless at least, with their boobs clearly visible in the water.

"We hoped you wouldn't be offended," said one of the women when she saw that I'd noticed. "Although you never can tell with young people these days. Sometimes they turn out to be more conservative than we were at that age."

I laughed. "No, we're not offended. I wish we'd done the same."

"When you're young and gorgeous like you two, you absolutely should," she said. "You seem like a lovely young couple. Don't worry about what old fogies like us might think."

With that encouragement, they headed to the shore and out of the pool (and yes, when they got out, we saw that they had indeed been naked). Soon we were left alone.

Shelly looked at me. "I've never skinny-dipped in daylight."

"Neither have I," I said. "And definitely not with a workmate."

"So....?" She left the question hanging.

"So this is definitely not going to be written down in our diaries," I said, and took my shorts off, putting on the rock beside me. I was suddenly on full display to her. I wasn't at full erection, but it did have a bit of chub to it, and started swelling a little more under Shelly's gaze.

"If you'll just give me a minute..." she said, grinning.

I laughed. "Raise your arms, Shelly."

She did, and I carefully stripped her t-shirt off her, folding it loosely and putting it with my shirt as her magnificent breasts tumbled free. And then she stood up on the rock and watched me as I unknotted the drawstring on her shorts, and eased them down her legs together with her knickers. I was still sitting, my face level with her pubic mound, which was covered with a lovely brunette bush that hid most of her vulva from view.

I couldn't resist. I kissed her mound, inhaling her fresh scent, and clasping my arms around her backside to press her into me. She sighed, and put her hands on my shoulders, leaning onto me. She spread her feet a bit further apart, and I started tonguing her, slowly working my way up and down her slit. I brought my right hand to her thigh, still pressing her into me with my left hand, and began to explore her with my fingers.

We stayed in this position forever, the gentle sounds of the water around us, the buzz of insects, rustles in the undergrowth from reptiles and small animals, the occasional splash of the kingfishers hitting the water, and the late afternoon sun on our backs. Shelly began to mew softly as I worked a finger into her, and then followed it with a second, gently moving in and out, and eventually finding a rougher spot on her vaginal wall. I began focusing my efforts there, and sped up my tongue action, spending more time around her half-hidden nub. She began panting as I increased the pace, and then started moaning softly.

After a few more minutes, she suddenly cried out and came, shuddering, squeezing my shoulders in convulsions, and heaving in great gasps of air.

"Stop Darren!" she said, laughing. "Oh fuck I can't take any more." She pulled away from me and then got down to slip into the water. She briefly grasped my cock and made as if to go down on me, but then released it, grinning up at me. "I think I need a break if that's okay. I owe you, you cunnilingus God. How much have you practised that?"

I didn't answer her question, but slipped into the water next to her, putting my arm around her waist for a side hug. "I don't think I'm that good, but If I change careers, could you give me a professional endorsement on social media?"

She smiled and then slipped away from me, swimming towards the waterfall. I followed her, and soon we were paddling under the cool falling water. We stayed there for a few minutes, but I started to get nervous that we wouldn't be able to hear anybody coming, and I suggested that we swim back towards the rock where our clothes were. It was just as well, because straight after we got there, we heard the distant sound of a car door slamming in the car park, and the high-pitched screams and chatter of kids arguing after a long drive.

"Quick," gasped Shelly, and we got back on the rock to get dressed. I helped Shelly with her shirt. It had dried a bit, but started clinging to her breasts again as soon as it touched her wet body, and we decided to get back in the water so that she wasn't putting on a show.

The rock was an obvious destination for the new arrivals, so we swam away from it and towards the edge of the pool. In another minute, they arrived: a typically happy family of five, with three young children and tired-looking parents who were doing their best to give them a good time during a long holiday. They definitely didn't look the skinny-dipping type though. The parents both had designer swimwear and they fussed around getting their children fully covered from the sun even though it was now late afternoon and there was almost zero threat of sunburn. We waved at them, and then left them to it. We faced away from them as we got out so that they wouldn't get the full-beam view of Shelly's wet t-shirt, and then headed to the car to dry off and get changed.

"I'm sorry, you didn't get yours," said Shelly. "I'll make it up to you later."

"No drama at all," I said. "And absolutely no expectation of reciprocity."

"First you go down on me, then you seduce me with big words," she said. "A girl likes a man with the right priorities."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I guess we were both expecting to take things further when we got to the next motel, but we got a rude surprise. A whole block of rooms had been knocked out of action by a lightning strike during the previous night's storms, and they were straining at the seams. Our unit were regular clients there, so they'd found space for us in a dormitory room, together with some fruit pickers who were travelling up to the Top End for the mango season.

There were more storms coming, so sleeping in swags outside wasn't going to be an option. Clearly there were going to be no sexy times, but we made the best of it. The pickers were Pacific Islanders, with typically large builds and positive attitudes despite the hard work and low pay they earned. They invited us to join us around a sheltered table outside, sharing a bowl of kava with them and talking. The night ended with a long game of cards, before we both begged off and headed to bed after a visit to the (segregated) outside bathrooms and a shower. I stayed a bit longer in the shower and quickly jacked off to take the edge off things, using the fresh memory of her scent and taste during the day to bring me over the cliff in record time.

I went to sIeep easily in the top bunk above Shelly's bed, but I woke for a while in the middle of the night. The Islanders had come to bed late, and were snoring away loudly. There was something else though, and it took me a while to work out what was happening. There was a faint vibration running through the bunk bed, and it was accompanied from time to time by the very quietest of sighs. Shelly had apparently also been woken by the snores, and was frigging herself back to sleep. With the amount of finger action that she was getting down there on this trip, we might have to start talking about occupational overuse syndrome as part of our work safety discussions.

I drifted back to sleep, and to dreams filled with lusty nude technicians fixing flood gauges.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shelly shook me awake in the morning. I had overslept, although some of the mango pickers were still sleeping, so it couldn't have been that late. She was bright, lively, and already dressed for the day.

"I'll organise some breakfast while you freshen up," she said, and sent me off to the bathroom, where I had another quick shower and shave. I was feeling much better when I rejoined her. I quickly packed up my things and then joined her at the outside table, where we ate a healthy breakfast from our supplies.

I'd decided not to mention the previous night, but then Shelly asked me if I'd heard the snoring, and remembering the previous day's conversation, I decided to dangle a fishing line in front of her, although there were also some of the pickers sitting at the table.

"Yes, I did! I think it woke me up, although there was also a feel of some good vibrations in the room. I felt like I was in excellent company last night in the bunk."

She gave a low laugh, and kicked me under the table. "It must be your stimulating leadership on this trip," she said. "By the way, I had a good long shower this morning, following your example last night."

"It's good to be clean, in body if not in mind," I said, and we grinned at each other.

We headed off as soon as we could. We had three more stops to do on the way back to home base at the workshop, and if we got back early enough, we would unpack when we got there rather than waiting until the following Monday.

We got lucky again. Only one of the stations had a significant issue, but we were able to fix it with our spare part supply. By mid-afternoon, we were back at the workshop, tired after our trip but buoyed by its success. The other guys were still there, and they gave us a hand unloading and putting things away.

Once that was done, we sat down with them for a quick debrief. There were two tricky moments. First, Bruce kept his ear to the ground, and obviously knew that we'd had accommodation issues. He casually asked if we'd had any problems. Luckily we were prepared for this, and Shelley explained what happened on the two previous nights, although she implied that I had slept in the swag rather than in her bed on the first of those. She smoothly moved on to an hilarious description of the fruit pickers and the snoring that had them all in fits of laughter. There was such an obvious ring of truth to the story that no further questions were asked.

"Did you get time for the swimming hole?" asked Tug casually. Again, Shelly jumped in to answer, as I'd told her that this was a regular stop and we could be up front about it. She talked about the wildlife, the retirees and the family group, and then asked about the story about black kites that I had told her, expressing amazement when they confirmed it.

"Beer o'clock," announced Bruce when we'd finished. "We can go to the local, or..." he suddenly stopped in confusion, remembering that there was also a strip show there on Friday nights.

"That's okay," Shelly said. "I don't mind if you look at women with spectacular tits out of hours, just as long as you're not expecting me to show you mine. But if you're taking me to the pub for team bonding, I'd feel better in a place where I don't have to remind you to behave."

We ended up going to a classier (and more expensive) pub in the city, without the strip show, and we had a good time for a couple of hours before we all called it quits. But a couple of times during the evening I caught Tug looking at Shelly, eyes narrowed. She was radiant, confident, happy. Whatever he'd been doing to her, he had lost some ground, and the battle would recommence the following week.

Just before we broke up for the night, Shelly caught me coming back from the bathroom and pulled me aside, out of sight from the others.

"Barry, there's a part of me that wants to take you home and fuck you all weekend. But I think I'd better not. Now that we're back here, I want to sort out this other shit before thinking about starting a relationship with a workmate. Forgive me?"

To tell you the truth I was a bit hurt, but I smiled and pressed her hand. "Of course. I'd love to pick up where we left off in that swimming hole. But we should wait and see if it's the right thing to do. At this stage it's no harm, no foul. And if doesn't work, well I've got a memory or two that will stay with me, including a vibrating bed."

She grinned. "Me too, including the best tonguing that I've ever had."

She pecked me on the lips, and we went our separate ways.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Monday morning, we started reconditioning some of the gear we'd brought back with us. The others were busy elsewhere, and we had some time to talk.

"Do you really think we should contact the girl who was here before?" asked Shelly.

I'd been thinking about that. "We could get advice. There's a thing called reactivated trauma. It might not be good for her. On the other hand, if we can get some closure for her, that might be positive. The other alternative of course is just to talk to Bruce and Ray upfront and get a plan together with them.

"Would they go for it?"

"Maybe. I know Bruce would be happy to resolve things informally if there's something decisive we could do. Ray might be talked into it. He has no love for HR, I know that. He thinks they're pathetic and weak about the real issues and just tie everything up in a process."

"Let's try," said Shelly.

After lunch, we marched into Bruce's office together and closed the door. He raised his eyebrows: the others were out of the workshop, so closing the door was more a symbolic act, but we wanted to make a point.

I pulled out my laptop and plunged into discussion.

"Do you remember what Tug said to you about Michelle?" I asked.

He nodded uncomfortably. "I didn't necessarily believe it though," he said.

"It's total bullshit, Bruce. I'm happy to say in front of her that she is a great operator and will be amazing for the organization if we can keep her. But I'll show you what he was really up to when he said that. He's been gaslighting her."

I pulled up the surveillance video and showed him what was going on with Tug moving Shelly's tools around when she wasn't looking. At first Bruce was puzzled and starting to question why we were making a fuss, but as he kept watching and Shelly started to explain how this simple trickery had made her feel about herself, he started to get it.

Shelly brought out her diary and showed him where she had written about this before she was aware that it had been caught on camera. She then summarised some of the other things that she had written. And I brought out my own diary and showed him where I had noted the huge change in Shelly's confidence during the week I'd been away. I also showed the more detailed notes that I'd made during our field trip about her work performance, which came specific examples of her competence.

Finally, Bruce held up his hand in a signal for us to stop talking.

"I'm convinced," he said. "That fucker. Just let me think about it for a minute. Actually, come back in an hour. I promise I'm not going to discuss this with anybody without your permission, Michelle."

"Okay, Bruce, and thank you for listening" she said, and we got up to leave. And then she paused as we were going through the door, and looked back at him. "And you can call me Shelly, Bruce. You're okay."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When we came back later, Bruce was fired up. He invited us to sit down, and then waved at his computer screen. "I can't show you this, but I've been reading through the report of our investigation when the last girl made complaints, Shelly. I want to say we tried, but I don't think we tried hard enough. Of course we didn't have any evidence and we struggled to understand what she was saying. But maybe we didn't listen. We fucked up."

He looked down at his desk for a second, and then up again. "I think I owe her an apology, but let's sort this out first. What you've said helps us understand what happened with her. The pattern is the same so far. I think you're safe enough with Bazza as your mentor, so you're not immediately at risk, but you can't have him hanging around ready for a new opportunity in his campaign."

"What would he try and do, do you think?" I asked.

"Based on what was alleged last time, he would try and find ways to dent Shelly's confidence, and then to get her alone on a field trip. He'd set her up some failure, convince her it's her fault, and then promise to cover for her if she's good to him."

He paused, and smiled wryly. "It wouldn't work on Shelly, and it didn't really work last time either. But we can't allow him to try again. I just can't quite work out how to manage that angle."

"Was Ray involved last time?" I asked.

"Yes, but he was fresh into the role. Didn't have any balls and HR didn't back him up," Bruce replied.

"Then, can I suggest that, with Shelly's permission, the three of us bring him into the loop?" I suggested. "Let's give him the chance to show that he meant what he said. I also think it would help make sure he backs you in this if we give him the inside running now."

They both nodded. Bruce called Ray in front of us, and asked to see him together with us to discuss a serious issue. Bruce asked if the meeting could be tomorrow, or as soon as possible.

Ray's response was a bit of a surprise. "I'm flying off down south later tonight for a meeting. I'm home packing. Can you come and see me here, right now?"

We jumped in Bruce's car and went to the boss' house. He was obviously stressed, but he welcomed us, sat us down next to his swimming pool, and invited us to speak. "You've got my undivided attention for half an hour."

So we leapt in. Within twenty minutes we'd shown him some of the video, the diaries, given our interpretation, and then Bruce had repeated his comments about the previous case, slipping into less formal language in his intensity.

"Boss, I completely back Michelle and Bazza on this. They knew fuck-all about the last time, but they've got solid evidence and it matches what happened. You know how I rate Bazza, and from what I've seen of Michelle, she's going to be a legend. We need to nail this prick."

Ray's mouth was twitching. He turned to Shelly, and spoke deliberately.

"Michelle, if HR were in the room, I'd be obliged to be very careful in my language, to treat everything as an unproven allegation, and to soothe you with soft words while I promise a full investigation of your claims. But you've clearly already made a compelling enough case to twist these two turkeys around your finger, and who am I to argue with them?

He nodded at the laptop, which was still playing the surveillance video of the little mind games. "This is convincing. The diaries are strong evidence. The comparison to the previous case is startling. We'll find a way to shaft the fucker. And if we bugger that up, I'll take the blame. Bruce, Barry, your balls are safe for now. Thanks for bringing this to me. Leave it with me for a couple of days, okay?"

And with that, he ushered us out and hurried back to his packing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of the week was fairly quiet. We did our work, rarely leaving the workshop. Bruce seemed a bit preoccupied, and a couple of times he closed his door for lengthy conversations: I gathered that Ray was on the phone to him. Dazza and Tug did their things together, preparing for another trip. Oddly, I noticed that Bruce called Dazza in for a long chat when Tug wasn't there. Dazza had a thoughtful look when he came out. He came straight over to Shelly, and spoke softly to her, but loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm so sorry, Michelle. Bruce has given me a "need to know" brief about the situation. He and Ray are planning something between them, and they need my help with a couple of things. If there's anything I can do, I will."

And then, as he walked back to his desk, I heard him quite distinctly say "that fucker" beneath his breath.

Tug's stocks were falling, but he didn't know it yet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the Friday morning, Bruce called us into his office. "Shelly, Bazza, if Ray gives us the green light next week, we have a plan. It would involve some mid-week travel, and putting you alone with Tug for a couple of nights. But we would have arrangements in place to keep you safe. Would that be potentially okay?"

"Potentially, yes," said Shelly. "But you'll have to tell me more."

Bruce talked us through it, and Shelly agreed that she'd give it a go. Bruce was clear that she could back out at any moment, but I didn't think that she would. I was also surprised at just how much Bruce's attitude had turned around. It seemed that once he'd had his mind changed about Tug, that had translated to a complete change of attitude about women in the team, as well as Shelly in particular.

Monday rolled around, and after Tug and Dazza had left on their inspection trip, we had a surprise visit from Ray, while Bruce wasn't there. He didn't make it out to the workshop very often. At first, he wandered around randomly looking at things. We weren't worried: the place was ship-shape. But he clearly had something on his mind.

"Michelle, can I talk to you in Bruce's Office?" he asked. They went inside, and I could see them having a serious conversation. Bruce arrived, and I talked him through the work that we were doing while he was waiting to get his office back. Finally they came out. They were both smiling.

"Sorry about that, Bruce. We're good to go. Just make sure that you refer HR to me if they want to talk to you for any reason," Ray said, and he left without further explanation.

We both looked at Shelly, but she shook her head. "I can't tell you what that was about," she said. But she was grinning.

On Tuesday afternoon, we were working in the workshop together, when Shelly got a phone call. It was Dazza, who was still in the field with Tug. She started talking, but walked over to Bruce's office, waving at me to follow. She held her finger up to her lips to indicate that I should be silent.

"I've just got you on speakerphone in Bruce's office," she said cheerily to Dazza, as the three of us stood around.

"Thanks, Michelle, and Tug's on the line here too," came Dazza's voice. "So, basically the story is that I have to come back to town for a family emergency. We could cancel the rest of the trip, but another option is that we offload what we have to from the Landcruiser, and you drive the spare vehicle here first thing in the morning while I'm driving the other way, and then you and Tug finish off the trip. You'll just have a couple of stations and then the research farm left to do, and then everything will be done before the Wet hits."

Bruce asked a couple of clarifying questions, and then looked at Michelle.

"What do you think, Michelle?" he asked.

"Should be no drama," she said. "I'll just choose some good road trip music. I've done lots of outback driving by myself, so I'm not worried about making it there safely, and I'll check with you regularly. I can be there by tomorrow mid-morning."

There was a bit more discussion with Dazza and Tug, and then Michelle ended the call.

"Are you really sure, Shelly?" asked Bruce.

"It's fine. It's just one night, and I'll carry all the protections we've agreed. See you at the research farm on Thursday afternoon?"

I was a bit confused about the references to the research farm. There had clearly been changes to the plan we'd agreed, but that was okay. I didn't need to be in the loop for everything.

The spare Landcruiser was already ready to go. Michelle had been expecting the call from Dazza, so she'd packed for the trip, and was actually going to head off that evening rather than first thing in the morning, staying at a town halfway to where Tug would be waiting for her. Bruce and I helped her load up a few things, and then waved her goodbye.

"What's this research farm business?" I asked Bruce, after she left.

He grinned. "Just something that Shelly and Ray cooked up between them. Officially, the team are booked to visit the research farm on the way back to discuss the potential installation of a new flood gauge."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, I don't want to spoil the surprise. If it comes off, I'm going to fucking kill myself laughing."

He looked at me more seriously. "I know you're worried. She's putting herself out there. Plus, I'm not at idiot. I know you've got a crush on her, and I don't blame you. But you don't have to play the fucking hero with this one. She's got it, and it's good if she takes the lead."

"Am I that obvious?" I asked, ruefully.

"You're young, male and you've got a pulse, and you're working closely with her. Anyone in your position would be falling for her. For what it's worth I think she feels the same. But let's keep it professional, or the boss will still have our balls."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Thursday morning, Bruce and I met at the workshop and got ready for the three-hour drive to the research farm. Tug and Michelle were expected to turn up there during the afternoon, although Tug didn't know that we were coming. Much to my surprise, Ray arrived in his private car soon before we were going to leave.

"Alright lads?" he asked, mimicking an English accent. Apparently he was a fan of UK Crime dramas. "I thought I might come along."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, but he didn't look too surprised.

"Jump in," was all he said.

The conversation started off awkwardly on the drive there, but Ray made an effort to relax us. He told us some hilarious stories about dealing with Head Office, and how they really had no idea about conditions up in the Top End. He also explained to me a bit more about the previous case and how he'd struggled to work through the processes that HR were demanding. I learned that the woman's name was Rachelle. Ray said that she was still working around the Top End. He was vague about where.

"I let Rachelle down," he said, echoing Bruce's earlier confession. "This is an opportunity to make it right as best we can."

Bruce told some stories about his Navy days, which were equally hilarious. I was beginning to understand more how the blokey workplace culture had evolved. The Navy was famously sexist with very few women in operational service, particularly back when Bruce and Dazza had been there, and naturally they brought that culture with them to the workshop. Tug had appeared to fit right in, and there was nobody to tell them otherwise until Rachelle's complaint had rocked the boat. Shelly's arrival had made them confront things again, but now we had a stronger push for change.

I felt like I was right in my original assessment of Bruce and Dazza. They were good people, even if they were very different to me. Tug, though, was a twisted fucker, and now we all understood that.

Time passed quickly on the road. We had a quick stop for lunch, and then we were there. It was an agricultural research station, backing onto one of the big rivers of the Top End.

Bruce ignored the car park at the front of the property, and drove around the side, parking behind a tree so that we wouldn't be seen by the others when they arrived. He led the way through a small side gate and knocked on the door of a portable office, standing by itself away from the main building. A sign on the door read "Crocodylus porosus – World Research Centre": an obvious joke given the small size of the office.

The door was opened by a slim, dark-skinned woman in her 30s. She smiled at us, but she seemed a bit on edge. She seemed to know Bruce and Ray, and after a moment, put her hand out to shake.

Ray introduced me to her, and then finally explained what was going on, or at least a little bit. "Barry, this is Rachelle. You've heard us talk about her. She used to work in our team, but she works here now. Actually... Barry can you give us a minute?"

He waved me towards a seat under a nearby tree, and I waited while they talked inside. Given what had just been revealed, I realised that both Bruce and Ray had some unfinished business to work through, as well as some planning. I wondered if Tug had any idea that Rachelle worked here, but I doubted it.

After about 15 minutes, Ray popped his head out and invited me inside, with an apology for how long they had taken. They were all smiling now: whatever had needed to be said between the three of them had been said.

Rachelle handed me a big glass of iced water, and we chatted for a little bit. She asked about how I was finding the job as well as my impressions of Shelly, who she obviously hadn't met. She asked some probing questions about my observations of Tug and his behaviour with Shelly. My answers seemed to satisfy her, and she turned back to the others.

"Right, so from what I understand, Tug and Michelle will arrive in about 20 minutes based on their latest check-in. My boss, Geoff, will show them our proposed flood monitoring site on the river, and then leave them to their own devices for a bit with an excuse about needing to make a phone call. And then we move. Okay?"

The others just nodded.

And that was the extent of it. They'd obviously discussed the rest of the plans without me in the room. Perhaps they were giving me plausible deniability if something went wrong? More likely, they were trying to show me that they were taking responsibility for what happened next. As Bruce had said, I didn't have to be the hero.

A little while after that, Bruce got an incoming call from Shelly. He answered the call, but muted the microphone and put it on speakerphone. It was obviously a prearranged "butt-dial". We listed as we heard them greet Rachelle's boss in his office, and then chat as they walked down to the river together.

"Any crocs here, Geoff?" asked Tug. He sounded a bit nervous.

"Not too many, mate," Geoff replied. "We've got a few in the pens out the back. I thought that in your job you'd be used to them?"

Tug muttered something that we couldn't catch. Rachelle grinned at us. Tug's hatred of crocs was apparently legendary.

They talked about the site for a while, and then we heard the sound of Geoff's phone ringing. Looking back at Rachelle, I realised that it was her calling him.

"Sorry, gotta take this," said Geoff, and then the soundscape got confusing for a bit as Rachelle had a conversation with him in front of us, while we heard the other end coming from Shelly's phone. After Geoff was out of earshot, Rachelle ended the call, and a few minutes later the door opened quietly as Geoff joined us in person. He was old, thin, with a white beard, and he greeted Bruce and Ray warmly, speaking in a low voice so that he wouldn't interrupt our feed from Shelly.

We heard them chatting some more about the site's suitability, and then Shelly suggesting that they have a bit of a look around before heading back to Geoff's office.

"Just watch for crocs, Michelle" said Tug nervously.

"You'll save me, won't you, Tug?" replied Shelly. "I really appreciate all those tips you've been giving me. I can't seem to get anything right by myself."

Tug's voice seemed to gain a bit more confidence. "Yeah, I was going to talk to you about that a bit more tonight. Stick close to me, and I'll look after you."

Listening to this, we looked at each other. Rachelle made a vomiting gesture. "Same line he used on me," she whispered. "Sounds like B-grade Hollywood. He's planning to move on her tonight."

We heard a bit of movement, and then an exclamation from her.

"This must be one of those croc pens! I can't see one here though. Let's walk through it to get to the next one! The gate's unlocked."

Tug muttered a protest, but it sounded like they had indeed climbed through the apparently empty pen, and were looking over a barrier into the next pen.

"Oh my God, that's huge," said Shelly. "It must be 4 metres at least! Let's watch it for a bit."

Then we heard her continuing. "Tug, let's be clear. Are you suggesting that if I offer you sexual favours, you'll go out of your way to help me?"

"I wouldn't quite put it like that," he replied. He sounded very uncomfortable.

"Well, how would you put it? I don't want to be mean, but otherwise you're too old for me. You're not regular boyfriend material. I think you're chasing a transactional relationship."

Rachelle smirked in front of us.

There was a silence, and then Tug finally responded. "Aren't all relationships transactional?"

"In a sense, but I'm a traditional girl. I like romance as part of the transaction. I like to have my pulse racing, my cheeks flushed, my breathing shallow. I like to be thinking about my partner with excitement when I wake up, and, in particular, when I go to bed. And then there's the physical element, but let's not go into details there. You haven't answered my question yet."

"You go, girl," muttered Rachelle.

Tug was trying to muster some bravado. "I wouldn't be demanding romance from you, and you shouldn't demand it from me. I'm just offering to help you out as part of the exchange."

"In exchange for sex?" Shelly was relentless.

"If that's how you want to put it," Tug finally admitted.

"Well, that's a hard 'no' from me," Shelly responded. "Oh look! There's a crocodile in this pen after all!"

Suddenly there was the noise of movement and a gate slamming shut, followed by Tug's protests.

Rachelle stood up. "Time to move," she said crisply.

She dashed out the door and down a short path, with us running in tow. We rounded the corner and there was Shelly, standing with her back to us, facing a row of pens with a high fence around them. Inside the first pen was Tug, red-faced and distressed. On seeing us all he looked very confused, but immediately started yelling at us to help him. He didn't seem to recognise Rachelle.

"The fucking bitch has locked me in with a crocodile," he said, shaking the door in the frustration.

Rachelle had slowed down, and calmly walked up to the pen. She acted puzzled.

"Hi Tug! It's been a while," she said. Then she made a show of looking around the pen, which sloped downwards. There was a large pool of slimy water at the far end. There were ripples in the water, but nothing else that we could see.

"Just the one crocodile in this pen," she said cheerfully. She turned to Shelly and extended her hand. "You must be Shelly!" she said. "That was quite the conversation you just had. I recognised a lot of his lines, but you lifted it up a notch. I wish I'd been that sharp when he tried in on me."

"I was prepared," Shelly said simply, and shook Rachelle's hand.

Tug had finally twigged, and was looking aghast. "What the fuck is this?" he asked. "Entrapment?"

"I was just trying to get you to be honest about what you were after," said Shelly sweetly. "I must have butt-dialed the others here. How clumsy of me, but then I've been clumsy all the time around you, haven't I? Now I can't seem to work out how to open this crocodile pen."

"You did dial us, Shelly," confirmed Bruce. "It was a very interesting conversation though. It was lucky that I'd decided to pop down and join the discussions with Geoff about the new site. He's an old mate of mine. Speaking of Geoff, should we go find him?"

He put his hand briefly on Shelly's shoulder, and started walking towards the main office, the rest of us following. We'd gone 50 metres down the path when Tug yelled from behind us.

"What about me?"

"I'll be back in few minutes," called Ray over his shoulder. "Bruce and I are going to have a bit of a chat with you, and then we might let you out."

"Is that pen really free of crocodiles, Rachelle?" he asked quietly.

Rachelle gave a light laugh. "Actually there is a little one in there, hiding in the water. That's what caused those ripples. But it wouldn't give him more than a nip."

We all met Geoff, who obviously knew Bruce very well and was in on the whole thing. We had a bit of a chat about the new site, and then Bruce and Ray stood up.

"Geoff, it's past your knock-off time. If it's okay, can I delegate Barry and Michelle here to come back in the morning and do some surveying and follow-up?" said Bruce. "Ray and I are going to escort Tug back to the city and have a chat about his future on the way."

We said our goodbyes to Geoff and Rachelle, and then went to the car to offload Tug's gear from the Landcruiser. Ray and Bruce started to head back towards the crocodile pens, but then Bruce paused and came back to us, while Ray watched.

"Your sleeping arrangements tonight are not my concern and I'm not asking questions," he said, "but the resort down the road has some pretty classy rooms if that's your thing. Well done today, Shelly." He clapped her on the back, and they headed off.

We drove down to the resort, which wasn't far away. It was an up-market place for wealthy tourists, designed to serve package tours to the nearby attractions. Not our usual thing, and much pricier than our accommodation allowance.

We got out of the car, and I stopped and looked at Shelly.

"Well, this is awkward," I said.

She hooked her arm around my waist. "No, it's really not. We'll pool our allowance for a double room and ask them to split the bill on checkout."

I risked a tease. "You sure you don't want Tug here?"

"Very fucking sure, Barry. Last night was tense. I wanted to scream at him, but I had to keep channelling my inner bimbo until we could get through today."

"You have an inner bimbo?"

"Not anymore. I probably mean my 'silly, submissive, girly self' rather than 'bimbo'. I fed her to the big crocodile in that second pen today. I'm not kidding. I actually dropped a little bimbo voodoo doll over the fence when Tug was distracted. I put some fish paste on it, so hopefully it's already disposed of."

"First I've heard of voodoo detox, but I'll take your word for it. Any more black magic things I need to know about you, Shelly?"

She started walking towards the resort reception, arm still around me. "You'll have to wait and see."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the end, we got a great low-season rate for a suite with a spa, and they made no problem about separate accounts. We tumbled into the room, hot, sweaty and tired after the day, to be met with a blast of cold air from the air conditioners.

"Spa first?" I asked, heading there to run the water.

"Best suggestion I've heard all day," she said.

As I was bending over to test the water temperature, I felt her come up behind me, and then her hands reached around me. Her fingers started teasing my shirt buttons open, starting at the top, and then slipped the whole shirt off my back, and kissed slowly down my spine until she was kneeling, hands around my waist. I shivered in delight.

She reached down to my feet and removed my boots, then unbuckled my belt before easing my pants down, and then my underwear and socks. When I was completely naked, she whispered, "Get in the spa and let me give you a show."

I stepped in and sat down, turning so that I could see her. She was still sweaty, but somehow managed to be seductive as she slowly removed her own boots, shirt, bra, work pants and underwear. I found myself bemused by that: I'd never pictured Top End work wear as seductive, and frankly it wasn't. But when it was Shelly, stripping after a huge personal victory and with confidence, attitude, and a symbolic voodoo cleansing via crocodile, it was an enormous erotic charge.

She slipped into the spa opposite me, and we had fun soaping each other up from head to toe and then luxuriating in spa bubbles until we felt completely clean. As she lay back, she reached out with her foot and started massaging my cock with her toes. I reciprocated, slowly stroking down her vulva with my right foot, trying to delicately get my big toe in the right spots and using enough pressure to please her without causing her pain. She groaned in pleasure and opened her legs wider, lying back with her eyes closed and a huge smile. Much to my surprise, after a few minutes of this, she shuddered and cried out, interrupting her own toe work on me while she spasmed.

She opened her eyes. "I do believe that that's the first successful toe job I've ever experienced," she said. "Not bad, Barry, not bad at all. One more skill for the CV."

"I try my best," I said modestly.

She stood, and offered her hand to me. "A quick rinse off, and then it's my turn to show my appreciation properly."

Within five minutes we were on the large bed. She was curled up next to me, head by my crotch and feet on the pillow, sucking and nibbling on my cock. It was nice. It almost felt too relaxing since we were now so comfortable with each other and she was taking it very slowly, but I could feel my heat steadily rising.

To change the pace up a bit, I moved her torso over mine so that I could reach my tongue up to her cleft and we could start sixty-nining properly. We still kept it slow, enjoying the taste of each other. Her scent after the spa wasn't very strong at the start, but as she got moister, I felt myself awash in her pheromones. I didn't think I could get much harder, but I started rapidly approaching orgasm. I tapped her on the shoulder in warning, but she doubled down her efforts, and soon I was convulsing and spurting into her mouth, while she did her utmost to keep up.

I took a few seconds' rest before recommencing my slow licking. She wriggled back a little to get the position right, releasing my now well cleaned cock from her mouth.

"Fingers too, please, Barry," she asked, and soon my right index and middle fingers were inside her, stroking against her front vaginal wall, my thumb rubbing her vulva while I focused my tongue on her clit. It took her a bit longer after her earlier orgasm, but she eventually came again, gasping and moaning.

She reversed position and we lay together, arms intertwined.

"That was quite a day," she said eventually. "And we haven't even fucked yet."

I kissed her, open mouthed. If she had tasted of my cum, I wouldn't have really cared. We were beyond being careful about bodily fluids. But she tasted eager, randy, charged with energy.

"Give me a few minutes," I said, "and we can make up for the lack of fucking."

I jumped out of bed for some cold drinking water, and then brought her some. I lay down again next to her and started playing with her boobs, lightly stroking them, feeling how soft they were and how sensitive she was just under her areola. Her nipples stiffened in front of me, and I sucked on them lightly, taking turns between her breasts, and stroking up and down her body.

She reached down and started massaging my cock.

"You're hard again already," she said.

"Another advantage of hooking up with a workmate your own age," I said.

"Your pickup lines could use some improvement," she replied, "but I'll overlook your flaws just this once."

I started rubbing myself up and down her body, before teasing her entrance with my engorged cock. Finally, she cracked.

"I've had two orgasms already," she said. "I'm swimming in juices. I don't need any more foreplay right now, thank you!"

With that, I thrust lightly into her, before remembering the one question I hadn't asked. Better late than never.

"Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside me. It's fine. I'll brief you later, but just get on with it."

We were new lovers, and it took a few minutes to get the right rhythm, but once we got it, it was great. She was tight but slippery, actively pulsing her vaginal muscles as I pumped in and out. We kissed again and again as we humped, and she squeezed my arse to give me subtle clues as to how hard or deep she wanted each thrust. It felt like we were made for each other.

Because I had come before, it also felt like it was taking a long time, but the sex was so nice that that didn't seem to matter. Finally, though, I felt the welling up inside me.

"I'm nearly there," I gasped. "How are you doing?"

"Pinch my nipples," was the unexpected response, and I did. She immediately started heaving and moaning in the throes of another orgasm, and I followed soon after, emptying myself inside her.

I lay on her for a few minutes, supporting my weight on my elbows on the bed. It felt blissful to be so close. I could feel her heart thumping through her breasts, and no doubt she could feel mine.

Finally, I rolled off. "Nipples, hey?" I said. "You've got some magic buttons there."

She just smiled at me sleepily, and I went to the bathroom to moisten some cloths for the cleanup.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We were up bright and early, determined to treat this as a work trip despite all that had been going on. Rachelle and Brian seemed a bit surprised to see us at the research station at 8 am, but made no comment. It was Rachelle who walked us back down to the proposed site on the river, where we were going to map out the planning in more detail. We needed to think about power, communications, inundation during floods, and a bunch of other things. Including, of course, crocodile safety.

We worked for a couple of hours, with Rachelle assisting. It was clear that she knew exactly what she was doing, including being highly familiar with the gear that we were proposing to install.

By 10:30 am the sun was blazing down on the site, but we had done everything we needed to. Rachelle took us back to her office for a cool drink. And, clearly, a chat.

"We didn't really get the chance to talk yesterday," she said, looking at me, "but I've heard a lot of good things in the last couple of days. Including from this lass here," she said nodding at Shelly.

"That's kind of them," I said. "I'm sorry about what happened to you when you worked for us. It must have really hurt when they wouldn't back you up."

"It did," she said quietly. "Bruce and Ray apologised to me over the phone last week, and then again yesterday. I don't really blame them. Thanks to both you and Shelly for following through."

"Shelly was amazing," I said.

"You're no slouch yourself, Barry, both in intensity and endurance," said Shelly. Then she put her hand to mouth in mock horror. "Oh shit: sorry, I thought you were talking about last night. You need to be more specific."

Rachelle broke up in fits of laughter, and I gave Shelly a pantomime slap. "You'd be more convincing if you hadn't told me about the bimbo doll," I said, amused but a little uneasy. Obviously Shelly trusted Rachelle, and we already knew that Bruce had signalled his tolerance of any relationship.

Rachelle caught my expression. "It's not a drama," she said. "People hook up at work all the time. Just ask Ray what the process is for declaring the relationship and avoiding any conflicts of interest. If you're upfront about it, it should be fine. If not, there are lots of jobs around for talented techs like yourselves. They know that. Hopefully they'll let you travel on trips like this together.

"You must miss working with the flood network," I said, "although I guess the crocodiles have their good points."

"I won't be here forever, but it's a good job to have to recover from a bad experience," she replied.

Just then our phones all dinged with a message from Bruce, and we paused to read it. It was brief and to the point.

Tug has resigned effective immediately and will leave the Northern Territory.

"I guess it avoids a lengthy process," said Rachelle, "but there's a part of me that wishes I'd had the four metre saltie in that pen."

"Why stop at four metres?" asked Shelly. "Size matters, after all."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Epilogue – Six Months Later

We drove down to the café together for our team meeting. Bruce and Rachelle were in the front, Dazza, Shelly and I in the back.

Rachelle had started back with us two months ago. It had taken that long to advertise Tug's vacant position, run a fair merit process, and wait for Rachelle to wind up her work at the research station. I'd applied for the promotion, but I could hardly argue the point – Rachelle was more experienced, more qualified, and was a great person to be coming back. From having no women in the team a year ago, we now had two after Tug's departure.

There was more change on the horizon. Bruce was retiring, and Rachelle would be acting in his position until they appointed a replacement. This was the last team meeting that Bruce would be at. We ran through all our business in good time, and then Rachelle looked at her watch.

"Lunchtime. Bruce, if it's okay by you, can I suggest the pub over the road? We need to give you a team sendoff before the formal function."

"That's great, Rachelle, but, um..." Bruce was starting to stumble a bit.

Shelly, Dazza and I all stood up, having discussed this with Rachelle previously. We walked across to the pub, ordered our meals, and then Rachelle led us purposely into the sports bar area, where the lunchtime strip show was just starting.

"Special treat, Bruce," said Rachelle with a grin, and ignored his red face.

"Nice tits," said Shelly, as the stripper started shaking her bare breasts at us. "Natural."

"Totally," agreed Rachelle. "Nice arse, too," she added as the stripper turned around, teasing us by playing with her g-string.

"Nice... just nice," I said as she turned back to the front and removed the g-string completely, showing off a neatly trimmed blonde bush.

We sat in silence for a period while the show finished, and then Rachelle said "so... we're not prudes here, but it's a bit unbalanced. Male strip show next week, or is it back to team meetings in the café?"

"I'll pass," said Dazza hastily.

"Fuck that. I'll be cleaning my desk," said Bruce with a grin.

"I'll go wherever you lead," I said. "Just as long as Shelly doesn't get too distracted."

"No promises, Barry," replied Shelly. "I like a nice bit of meat." She squeezed me under the table.

"Back to the café it is," said Rachelle. "Times change. But here's to you, Bruce, for being a great boss, and for listening. It's good to be back." She raised her glass to him, and we joined her in the toast.

Afterword

I don't usually do afterwords, but I'll make an exception here. The story idea was generated by thinking through the guidelines for the 'On The Job' event and the changing nature of workplace culture, which includes managing the tension between wanting to relate to colleagues as normal humans (including flirting) and being cautious and respectful to avoid predatory relationships, workplace harassment and breakup dramas. Even though one evil bastard or bad breakup can ruin a workplace, many of us enjoy the back and forth of work relationships of all kinds. Obviously, it wouldn't be much of a Literotica story if nothing happened at work, but how would the characters navigate the minefield without getting on the wrong side of HR?

Two of the incidents in the story are based on things that have happened to me. On one occasion soon after I started work, the boss took his team down to the strip show at the local pub after work, without a thought about whether that was appropriate or not. Somewhat later, when I was a bit more senior, I gave a (more junior) female colleague a lift down to the pub where a team leader was having a retirement lunch. I was a bit gobsmacked when, as we entered the pub and ordered some beers, it was clear that there was a lunchtime strip show next to the bar, and it was just reaching its climax. My colleague, bless her cotton socks, turned to me and said "I really admire her confidence!" She is the most "glass half full" person I've ever met at work.

I mention those incidents because if anybody was about to write that they would never believe strip shows happening at work functions... well, those are the non-fiction bits of the story. Oh, and the stuff about black kites deliberately spreading fires is also absolutely true.

Thanks for reading. Please remember to score the story and to comment – it makes a huge difference to authors when readers engage in that way.