Fete Accompli

© 2025 Thefireflies, for Literotica

~0~

A door opened at Sandalwood Crescent, releasing a great hound into the new day. Arthur's long legs seemingly spun in the air as his paws failed to gain traction on the smooth tiles, claws scraping until they finally found purchase, and the blur of red fur bounded into the yard, possessed with a serious case of the zoomies.

Dylan sat on the front step lacing his running shoes and watching his blurry maniac run around. Arthur sensed Dylan's gaze and stopped, his mouth forming a crazy grin with tongue barely poking past his canines. Dylan cocked his head and Arthur mimicked him. He snapped a photo on his phone and the big pup closed his mouth. Dylan smiled at how Arthur's narrow face looked comical and serious at the same time. His hazel eyes were large and thoughtful and ears ridiculously long and silky.

"Come on, ya big fancy bastard, go take a piss before we get this show on the road."

The saluki reached the front gate in two leaping bounds. Dylan tethered his running partner, who promptly cocked his leg and let out a long steaming stream onto the leaves of the Hibiscus bush. Moments later Dylan pushed the gate open and out they went. Few words were spoken, both man and dog on a mission.

Rays of sunlight peeked above rooftops of iron and tile, filtering through leaves of trees. A magpie chortled a lovely morning chorus, while somewhere in the distance a cockatoo screeched a more chaotic welcome to the day. A fat tortoiseshell cat flushed from a bush, and Dylan pulled Arthur back on the path with a strong growl of "leave," testing Dylan's grip and biceps and Arthur's training.

This was their habit most mornings, an hour's run at sun up, taking a different route each time. They traversed concrete paths cracked and stained with time, past houses familiar to Dylan, some he'd known quite well both inside and out as a kid because they were the former homes of childhood friends. Some houses looked worn and tired, others proudly displayed new roofs or fresh coats of paint or a complete renovation to their exterior.

Some houses present in his memory were missing in real life, replaced with duplexes, town houses and blocks of units. Corflute For Sale signs were out in force all over the city, but Dylan no longer bothered to look up the price unless he saw something extra special or practical. Over a million dollars for a three bedroom town house with little-to-no yard was absurd, especially in this suburb, where he wondered how anyone beyond the mega rich could afford even a simple house with the current state of the real estate market.

The day was well and truly starting when they jogged back to Sandalwood Crescent. A couple of tradies in filthy orange hi vis shirts were chatting outside their lifted dual cab utes, presumably doing weekend work on the construction site at number ten, where four town houses were going up. This property used to belong to Mr and Mrs Peters, who'd moved into an aged care home about a year ago after almost fifty years at the same address. Dylan recalled how their daughter, Kerry, sometimes baby sat he and his sister when they were young, remembering how the house was identical to his parent's in design. It was only recently demolished.

Across the road Mrs Bošković was watering her flowers. Dylan returned her wave, thinking how ancient and kind Mrs Bošković looked, recalling how when growing up in the street, Mr and Mrs Bošković used to yell at and threaten kids riding bikes on their section of footpath, or if kids were retrieving a ball from the front yard. Her husband passed away several years back, the grumpy old bastard, but Dylan and his father occasionally helped the old woman out and she was very fond of his children.

Times certainly change, he thought, not for the first or even hundredth time.

There was no time for small talk with neighbours this morning, however, and he and Arthur were through the gate quick smart. The gate slammed shut and Dylan began his stretching routine, bracing against the fence with right leg out behind him. He felt the wet tickle of Arthur licking behind his sweaty knee.

"Enough of that, mate," Dylan said, "I've gotta stretch me calves." Arthur stopped and cocked his head and gave a whine like cry.

"I know, mate, it's a tough life. Look, I know, you'd love for me to spend the day with you, which I would, but I've promised to help out at today's sausage sizzle. Hey, don't look at me like that, you know I'd take you with me if I could. But they won't let dogs in the school yard, and anyway, you'd steal all the sausages from the barbecue. You know you would."

Arthur listened to every word and wore an expression suggesting, yes, he would absolutely love to spend the day with Dylan at the school's fundraiser, where he would not cause any trouble whatsoever, nor would he eat many sausages. After all, he is the goodest boy. He was told this as a fact by the entire family all the time.

"Unfortunately, my friend, you will have to stay here."

Dylan planted a firm pat on Arthur's side, the hound's face breaking into a broad grin as if he understood and agreed with everything. Moments later Dylan sat on the path to stretch his hamstring, where he copped a full post run slobbery tongue to the face.

~0~

The carpark was desolate except for two other vehicles. Dylan parked his Subaru, climbed out and walked through the gate to the quadrangle. He marvelled how the school appeared significantly smaller than his memory suggested. Maybe it was because he was no longer seeing the school through child's eyes, and perhaps it was the addition of new paths and covered walkways connecting most buildings, making the yard look smaller.

However, the quadrangle in the centre of the school's main buildings looked almost exactly like Dylan recalled. Except today at this early hour because there were no kids shooting hoops into basketball rings at each end, nor were there games of handball on the square concrete pavers. And no one was playing chasing games of tiggy, and therefore no one running and inevitably tripping on the inhospitable surface, leading to tears and a trip to the sick bay. You just scraped a little bark off, the old ladies in the office used to say, we'll patch you up, good as new.

It all happened right here, Dylan thought, his mind's eye picturing it like yesterday. Almost forty fucking years ago...

Sue Mathers approached from across the quadrangle, a clip board in one hand and her phone in the other. "Dylan, thank goodness you're here. I'm so glad you could help out."

"Hey, no worries. What do you need me to do?"

Removing a lanyard with a key from around her neck, she said, "You can start setting up the barbeque stall. The barbeques are in the main storage room."

"Under the back of the main hall?" Dylan asked, taking the offered key.

"That's right. You were a student here, weren't you?"

"Yep," he said with a short intake of breath. "A lifetime ago."

"Nothing's changed, the store room hasn't moved," Sue replied, getting straight to the point. "Once you get the barbecues out, you can get the marquees. You'll need to ensure their legs are weighted down in case the wind blows through. The BOM said there won't be much wind but it might rain later in the day, but I don't trust these forecasts, so we need to be prepared for anything. Oh, and also, the tables should be behind the door. Don't go lifting heavy things on your own, though. I'll send Chris to help you once he's finished faffing about. I just saw Kai arrive. He'll help you on barbeque duties. Other volunteers should be here soon, too."

"No worries, I'm onto it."

A tight smile from Sue before she walked away in the direction of the gate to greet the man, presumably Kai, who was walking in from the carpark.

Dylan didn't wait, walking towards the main hall. The school was built on a low hill, where one side of the long hall was at the natural ground level, and the other side was down slope, the veranda circling the building approximately two-and-a-half metres above the ground here. The hall could be accessed on both sides through French doors, which opened to give the hall's inner room the appearance of a much larger space and to allow airflow in the humid subtropical summers. The end of the building faced the quadrangle, where a single flight of timber stairs connected the ground to the veranda for further access.

Dylan skirted these stairs, walking under the veranda on a concrete path, past rows of bubblers over their stainless steel trough. Foursquare handball courts were painted on the concrete path here, which Dylan thought were much too small for a proper game. This was one of the few covered areas back when he'd attended school, a place to shelter on rainy days.

The paint looked much fresher than Dylan's recollection, but still typical school beige. At some point in the last thirty plus years many of the school's buildings were renovated. By all accounts, the authorities found extensive termite damage at the school, which led to discoveries of significant amounts of asbestos, and someone in the education department decided the school would get a massive overhaul. Apparently the renovations took over a decade to complete, at least according to his father.

The key Sue provided fit the lock, and he pushed the door open and went in. The musty atmosphere was heavy in Dylan's nose and lungs, and he concluded the renovations and humans in general missed the storage room altogether. The door began to close on its own, so he pushed it open again, propping a dusty plastic chair against it.

Light barely revealed two barbeques parked a few metres in from the door, exposing red-brown rust on once black lids and pipe steel stands. Dylan wondered if these museum pieces would make the journey from the store to the quad without rattling apart. He looked into the gloom, making out long folded marquees propped against a storage shelf and sports crashmats further back. The trestle tables were exactly where Sue said he could find them, stacked in the space behind the open door. He ran his finger over the dust on the topmost table, noting they would need a considerable wipe down.

"G'day...," a deep voice called out.

"In here, mate," Dylan replied.

A tall man with sun-darkened skin appeared. He was the same fella Sue walked away to greet minutes before. He wore a BCF t-shirt and Great Northern cap, his tattooed arm extend, holding out his hand. "Kai."

Dylan took Kai's hand in a firm grip, saying, "Dylan."

"Sue said you're replacing Rohan. I don't recognise you from the P and C. How'd she rope you into this at short notice?"

"Sue and Chris are neighbours of mine. I have kids at the school and Sue asked if I could help on the barbeque. Apparently Rohan pulled out and I was free to help, so here I am."

"Sounds like an offer you couldn't refuse," Kai chuckled. "You see, that's where you fucked up. You're here now when you could be elsewhere. What year's your kids in?"

"My daughter's in fourth grade and my son's in second."

"Great. I have twin girls in year five."

The two men began transferring all the required items to the quadrangle, chatting as they went to get to know one another. Amazingly the barbeques survived the journey on their rickety plastic wheels and rusty frames. Chris Mathers, Sue's husband, arrived at the shed to help. More parents from the school community arrived, some helping with marquees and tables, while others brought their own gear. The atmosphere in the quadrangle began to resemble a carnival with all the stalls being erected against the buildings, leaving the centre open like a town square.

Sue paced back and forth between marquees, clipboard and phone in hand. Dylan hardly took notice of her while he screwed the hose nozzle of a barbeque into to a nine kilogram gas bottle, wondering if the hose would leak and the rusty burners ignite. At least the gas bottle appeared full.

Dylan did take note when Sue spoke tersely, "Where the bloody hell is the butcher?"

"It's seven o'clock, babe," Chris replied, his voice barely audible over the crashing of the ice cubes he dumped from a bag into one of the large coolers set against the building wall. "It's early on a Saturday morning. Give him a few moments."

"It might be Saturday morning, but we need meat or this whole thing will be a disaster!"

Kai removed a marquee's blue canvas sleeve cover, and he nodded in Sue's direction while speaking in hushed tones. "I've got a big slab of meat she can have."

Dylan snorted a laugh and couldn't help the juvenile grin spreading across his lips, but immediately another thought sparked, in his ex's voice no less, how it is inappropriate to laugh at any sexually charged jokes. The thought annoyed him, but also, Sue was his friendly neighbour and she did appear stressed and he felt a little bad for her too. He'd heard rumours of Sue's reputation for inflexibility as head of the Parents and Citizens Association, the P&C, where some of the parents grumbled she was a micromanager and super stressy.

Searching for something to say, he whispered back, "The butcher better get here soon if he wants his meat to remain intact." Kai barely snorted and Dylan thought perhaps he shouldn't have said anything. He finished testing the barbeque, which did indeed light, then helped Kai erect the marquee.

"She could actually help people rather than ordering them about and pacing back and forth grumbling about the butcher," Kai murmured.

The two men manoeuvred the first marquee onto its feet on the dark concrete slabs.

"Butcher's here," Chris soon called. Dylan and Kai looked to where the small white Volkswagen van was slowly driving through the gate with its hazard lights flashing. "Go easy on him, babe. Don't forget he's donating the snags, so is entitled to be a few minutes late."

Kai caught Dylan's eye and whispered, "Chris lost any meat he may have had many years ago."

Sue responded to Chris by stopping her pacing and she muttered something before facing Dylan and Kai. "Make sure you put the weights on the marquee's feet, and where's Gabby? She's supposed to help us set up."

She marched to another marquee and Kai chuckled. "Gabby's probably staying home to avoid Sue. I bet this is why Rohan pulled out."

"Careful," Dylan said, gesturing with his eyes towards Chris who was directing the butcher to their stall. "You'll be put on Sue's black list."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

With the comments Kai was making, Dylan wondered why the man bothered to volunteer. They set up the trestle tables and wiped them clean, all the while Kai divulged how he'd lived in the area for the past eight years after moving from north Queensland. He was an electrician now, but was previously a sailor on naval patrol vessels up north for another eight years before moving down. At least they had something in common, Dylan spending six years as an Army Reservist until his mid-twenties. But it didn't take long to discover their experiences were wildly dissimilar. Finally they found common ground over the Rugby League, except Kai was a Cowboys fan and Dylan supported the Broncos.

Back in the storeroom they found the heavy weights to anchor the marquee, both men carrying two at a time to the quad, muscles burning all the way. Kai appeared to love it, lifting the weights like he was pumping iron, saying, "I could do this all day!"

They secured the feet of their marquees, then Kai helped Chris unpack soft drinks into the spare ice coolers next to several foam boxes from the butcher containing the sausages and ice. Dylan briefly paused to admire their set up. The top of the marquee was approximately in line with the classroom windows set in the timber wall above. Colourful paper cut into the shapes of girls in dresses linking hands like a chain spread across the inside of the glass, and there were colourful paper and cellophane stars too, plus a few colourful drawings from the Year Four class who occupied the room in which the window belonged. Dylan knew it was a Year Four classroom because it was his daughter Marion's class room. He wondered if Marion's vivacious teacher, Miss Singleton, would drop by. He wondered if mid-to-late-twenties-something Miss Singleton was indeed single, and if she'd perhaps consider dating a man in his mid-forties...

"Excuse me," a woman's voice said, Dylan almost jumping, turning fast to face the owner of said voice.

He'd noticed the woman setting up a marquee on the adjacent side of the quadrangle close to the school office block, perhaps thirty metres away. At the time he'd been too busy to pay her much attention, but he'd definitely noted her hair was wavy and brown, a little messy in the light breeze, falling a little past her shoulders. He'd noted the colourful apron she wore over a black t-shirt and skirt. Now as she stood in front of him, he noted her blue eyes were like crystals catching the light, fading freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and button nose, and her full lips were smiling impishly. In less than a split second his mind said, You're cute, and I know you, you look familiar...

Maybe he'd seen her at school drop off or pick up, but he was sure he'd have noticed her because why wouldn't he? She was gorgeous.

"You almost jumped a metre into the air, like you were caught doing something you shouldn't be," the woman said, a little smile lingering on her lips moment before her hand shot to her mouth, "Oh my gosh, this isn't for real... you're Dylan Morris!"

"Michelle Rigby," her name came to him now, like a flash, the sound of her voice completing the picture, "I thought I recognised you!"

"Sure is. I last saw you, like... twenty or more years ago."

The memories flooded back, of his childhood mate, Joshua Rigby, whose little sister, Michelle, was all grown up and standing in front of him, wide eyed with a hand still covering her mouth. "I'm pretty sure it was New Year's Eve for 1999-2000. What's that, twenty-five years ago."

Her eyes seemingly grew larger and she clasped her hand even tighter over her mouth, then pulled it away by force, placing it over her heart. "Yes, you came with our family because Josh broke his leg right before the Y2K New Year!"

"You were just a baby then."

"Pfft, a baby. I was... almost fifteen."

"Wow, Josh and I were eighteen. We were supposed to go to a wild party on New Year's instead..."

"... but Josh pranged Mum and Dad's car the week before Christmas and they were pissed at him despite him being a bit banged up."

"I remember, that's why he was on crutches. I recall your parents didn't ground him because he was an adult, but they didn't have to because he was barely mobile. I'd broken up with my girlfriend right after Christmas and she was going to the party so I didn't go..."

"Rebecca MacFarlane..."

"How'd you remember Rebecca?"

Michelle's face flushed a little but her grin was cheeky and her eyes twinkled when she said, "Some of us crushed pretty hard on our big brother's friends, and some of us hated their girlfriends. Let's just say Rebecca was my least favourite of all my brother's friend's girlfriends. If you know what I mean."

"Rebecca was my first love," Dylan replied, missing Michelle's meaning. "We'd dated for four years and it took me about as many to properly get over her, even though it was mostly my stupid fault. She was going to the party so I didn't go and ended up hanging with your family instead."

"And it was the best New Year's Eve ever," Michelle said with a grin. "Anyway, um, I need a strong man... to help me with the weights for the feet of my gazebo. Commander Sue insists. She suggested one of you could help me."

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."

Michelle's grin seemed to broaden and they walked together under the hall's veranda to the storage room, his mind racing at breakneck speed to recall the events of New Year's Eve 1999 while listening to Michelle's questions.

"Do you have children here?" Michelle asked.

"Two," he said, telling Michelle about Marion and Oliver. While he spoke he recalled snippets of another life, when he was mates with Josh Rigby at this very primary school, both moving up to the nearby high school together. They'd lost touch when their respective social circles expanded rapidly at the onset of adulthood, attending different universities, meeting new people they shared stronger interests with than the friends they'd grown up with, and Dylan joining the Army Reserves in his late teens. "How about you? You have kid's here?"

"Willow's in year three. She's my one and only."

"Right between my two."

They entered the store room, Michelle screwing up her nose. "It's so mouldy in here."

"It's probably water against the block work at the back there, and the humidity keeping everything moist."

Michelle giggled. "Ewww, you said moist."

Taken by surprise at her innuendo, Dylan smiled. He found additional weights for the marquee and hefted them, his muscles straining. Still he consciously made the effort to make lifting them appear easy peasy. "So you still live in the area?"

Michelle picked up a small trestle table and hesitated before replying. "It's kinda embarrassing, but I'm back with Mum. It's been quite the adjustment, but it's great for Willow. Um, you see, her father doesn't take any interest in helping out with her, and he's a bit of a... dick head, anyway... and that's all I'll say."

"Oh, right. I'm so sorry. Er, everything okay?"

"Yeah, we're good. We're all good. I do kinda feel I'm back to where I started before I left home at twenty though. That's how life goes sometimes. Anyway, what about you?"

A million questions about Michelle's life flooded Dylan's thoughts, but he took the hint she didn't want to talk further about how she ended up back here. He understood her feeling all too well, with more than a little shame about the fact he was a grown man in a similar situation. Still, Michelle was open and honest, sharing a little vulnerability with him, so he felt it fair to reciprocate.

"I'm in a slightly similar situation. I divorced last year and have the kids. My ex was offered a promotion overseas. We'd already spent five years in London before we started a family and I was happy to be back here where we'd started putting roots down. She said it would only be for a year, but then it was two, then my dad had a fall so I moved back here to help them out. I looked for something suitable nearby but haven't found a place of my own yet... anyway, you don't need to hear all my dramas. It is what it is. So, yeah... how's Josh?"

Michelle's smile was genuinely warm. "Thanks for sharing. I'm sorry to hear about your divorce and I hope your dad is okay, too. Secondly, Josh is... Josh. I'm surprised he's still alive to be honest."

"Oh," Dylan said, his arm muscles burning as they walked towards her marquee. He wondered about his old friend, if he was doing okay.

"Oh, not because of anything you're thinking. He's reckless. He still drives like a maniac. Rides motor bikes like a maniac. He skydives and believes life should be lived at a million kilometres an hour."

"He was always chasing some thrill. If we were at the skate park or riding our bikes he'd go as big as possible. Go big or go home, he'd tell us, and if you don't end up bleeding, did you really have fun? He was always full of crazy dodgy ideas and tried to drag us along."

"He's still full of crazy ideas."

"Well, I'm glad he's still going. I'd like to catch up with him sometime."

"Yeah, you should. Remind me to get your number for him."

Dylan considered Michelle's statement as he placed the weights on two diagonally opposite feet of her marquee. He gave one of its legs a gentle shake as if to test its sturdiness. Michelle began setting up the table at the rear of the marquee and Sue noticed them and gave a little nod, perhaps approving the fact they weren't slacking off, or maybe because another marquee at the school market was secured in place.

Stretching, Dylan looked around at busy people still setting up their stalls, or early customers milling about waiting for the stalls to open, some chatting with each other and others were sitting on stainless steel bench seats, scrolling through their phones. Most importantly, a coffee van was setting up next to the barbeques. Dylan thought perhaps he could offer to buy Michelle a coffee.

"Thanks for your help," Michelle said.

"No worries. If you need anything else, I'm going to be manning the barbecues. I could get you a coffee if you'd like."

Michelle shook her head. "I've already had one this morning and if I have another, I'll be crazy!"

"Crazier than you are already?"

"Exactly," she said, pointing a finger gun at him. "But maybe I'll take you up on your coffee offer another day."

"I hope so."

She smiled and so did he, but he was overcome with self-consciousness in a way he'd not done so in many many years. He looked away, focusing on the table in the centre of the marquee, noticing a chalkboard there with Mish's Face Painting written in colourful chalk with a unicorn and rainbows and stars. Michelle looked away too and seemed to focus on the board for a second, then picked it up and placed it in front of the marquee facing the centre of the quadrangle. "If you need your face painted, you know where to find me."

They shared another smile, Dylan not wanting to take his eyes from Michelle's this time, because he'd decided her eyes were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and the rest of her right up there. Her cheeks appeared to flush and she looked away again, and anyhow, duty called and he figured he better not get on Sue's bad side before she discovered him fraternising too long with the resident face painter while there were sausages needing to be cooked.

Sue caught up with him before he made it halfway back to the barbeques, asking him, "Do you mind getting more of those weights for the marquees, please? We can't have them flying away if a strong wind blows up."

"Sure thing," he said, deciding this would be his work out for this weekend and there would be no need to go to the gym. And sadly no coffee until he'd completed the task.

Women mostly ran each stall, and when he arrived with the weights some women were flirty, others business like, but all were friendly and appreciative of his efforts to secure their marquees. At each stall he checked out what they were selling; typical school fete produce of cakes, several varieties of baked breads, homemade jams in jars, a popcorn and fairy floss vendor, herbs and indoor plants, arts and crafts and jewellery, and a second hand book stall.

Returning to the barbeques across the quadrangle, Dylan glanced in Michelle's direction, only to catch her watching him from her shelter. She waved and smiled and he waved and smiled back.

She is such a cutie, he thought for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes. A quick calculation put her at forty years old. She'd briefly mentioned the father of her child wasn't present and also a dickhead, and though he wasn't going to press her about details, he wondered what her story was.

A sadness filled his heart, where, despite not paying too much attention to Michelle back in the day because she was an annoying younger sister of one of his friends, he recalled she was always bubbly and happy back then, always saying Hello to him, and he hated the idea life might not be working out quite how she'd hoped. Now she was a single mum, which was never easy, and living in her childhood home with her own mum rather than in her own place. At least she still appeared bubbly and potentially happy.

And of course, he thought, I'm not married anymore and have two kids at this school... and I'm back with my parents...

"It's a tough gig servicing the yummy mummies, but sacrifices need to be made," Kai said in greeting. He grinned and Dylan felt an annoyance at Kai's comment, while at the same time agreeing Michelle Rigby was very much a yummy mummy. Kai was kitted out in an apron while cutting onions on the table adjacent to the barbeque, and he said, "Volunteering for this gig's enough to make a grown man cry."

"Everything looks great here. The fete and our set up, that is."

"I saw you checking it out and I must agree, everything looks great over at the face painting tent. The stuff they're selling at the other stalls is probably nice too."

Again, Dylan couldn't shake the annoyance. And again his smile was involuntary, but he chose his words carefully. "It's not what you think. Michelle and I go way back."

"Did I mention Michelle," Kai said, his tone faux-naif, slicing an onion in half. "But she's watching you, so I guess you probably do go way way back. I don't blame ya, I'd go way back with her too. Anyway, Chris' on the oval directing the inflation of the jumping castle. I think he's using it as an excuse to get away from Sue. Plus, Gabby's arrived. She's getting coffees for us. I didn't know what you wanted so I hope you don't mind a flat white with full cream milk and nothing else. Because if you do mind, I'll have both of yours."

"Flat white's perfect, thanks," Dylan replied, reeling at Kai's way back with her too comment.

"Great. We should get this barbeque pumping."

They fired up the barbeques, the igniting gas infusing the air around them. The hotplates were surprisingly clean, but they scraped them anyhow, and soon Gabby returned with three coffees. She was a no nonsense fortyish year old woman with shoulder length blond hair and black rimmed glasses making her green eyes appear huge. She handed over a disposable coffee cup, her voice possessing a strong New Zealand accent when she said, "Pleasure to meet you, Dylan. I hear your two kids are at the school. I have three. Charlotte's in grade six and Toby's in grade three, and Lucy's in kindy."

Gabby and Dylan spread sausages across the hotplates, fat sizzling and spitting. Seemingly attracted by the cooking smells, Sue dropped by, reminding them to, "Keep those veggie sausages away from the meat."

"We'll cook them all together, no one will notice," Kai grinned. Sue wasn't the joking type and she gave Kai a withering look, making him grin some more. He dumped a tray load of freshly cut onion rings on to the hotplate of the second barbecue and began stirring them with a long pair of tongs.

"Just let them cook for a bit," Sue said.

"Hey, boss, relax, we got this."

Sue took a visibly sharp intake of breath and Dylan and Gabby stopped for a second or two to watch in fascination, both sipping on their coffee while wondering if Sue was going to explode, but she shook her head and walked away.

"You're definitely on the list now, mate," Dylan said, beginning to rotate a line of sausages.

"Nah, you know, Sue needs to be told. She loves it. She'll be begging me to come back next time. She always does."

"Okay, sunshine," Gabby said without a hint of humour. "Exactly like she begged Joe and Christina to come back."

"Funny story, Dylan," Kai said, steam rising from the caramelising onion. "At our school fundraiser last year, Sue threatened one of the stall holders, Joe, because he told her he wasn't going to move his marquee a metre to the side because someone else complained they didn't have enough room between stalls. Joe refused which caused Cristina and Sue to start yelling at one another. Sue banned them. It was fucking hilarious."

"These P and C fundraisers are serious business," Dylan said, surprised but not surprised adults would act so childishly.

"More like a dictatorship," Gabby said, rotating the vegie sausages on the same hotplate as the onions. "And Sue has been Supreme Leader for the past five years."

"Gabs," Kai chuckled, "You just used the same tongs on the veggie sausages that you used on the meat."

"Oh, shit," Gabby said, turning to the preparation table and grabbing clean pair of tongs. "No one needs to know."

"Correct answer," Kai said touching his onion tongs to the meat sausages, then to the vegie sausages and back to the onions. "No one has to know."

"Oi, get out of it," Gabby said, giving him a slight shove. Kai chuckled.

Dylan continued rotating the meat sausages. "Don't worry, who knows if there's any real meat in these things. They're not called mystery bags for nothing. At least that's what we call them at home, because it's a mystery as to what they're made from."

Kai snorted and Gabby said, "Sue tells me you're at your parent's place down the road from her?"

Caught off guard, Dylan almost dropped his tongs. Living with his parents as an adult wasn't something he'd planned for, making him uncomfortable. Particularly in front of Kai. He knew it shouldn't and he wasn't alone, however, because divorce rates were high and the cost of living was hitting many people hard and Michelle proved he wasn't the only one back under his parent's roof. Still, he was a man and he couldn't help feeling he should be independent and that he should buy something sooner rather than later.

"It's temporary. I divorced from Marion and Oliver's mother last year. We sold the house and paid the mortgage off. Then Dad had a fall so I moved back home to help out. I'm looking at buying a place nearby, but the market's pretty average and prices are through the roof. Renting appears out of the question cos we need a decent yard for the dog. Anyway, it's great for the kids to spend time with Mum and Dad."

"I'm sorry to hear," Gabby said. "It's so hard, and you're right, the market is shit and renting is tough when you have pets. Something's going to give sooner rather than later. There's more people living in tents than ever and we should all be jumping up and down about house prices right now. We only bought our first place a few years back since moving over, and it's bloody hard work with three kids, even though we have good jobs. We worry about servicing our mortgage all the time."

"Polyamory could solve it," Kai chuckled, "With three or four income households."

"In your dreams," Gabby replied in a derisive tone.

"Yeah, well, it's not so terrible as everyone's making out," Kai said, facing them now and holding the tongs like he was going to lecture them. "I have two investments and the law forces landlords to accept tenants with pets, so both my current tenants have dogs. And, Dylan, mate, do you know who else is single and lives with her parents?"

"Who," Dylan said, not wanting to get into the discussion about renting or house prices with cashed up bogan Kai, knowing it would go nowhere fast, while guessing where this discussion was about to go.

"The hottie at the face painting stall. The same hottie who keeps glancing in our direction, the one who you go way back with. Maybe she wants a sausage?"

"Oh, grow up, Kai," Gabby said, giving him a flick across the shoulder with a checked tea towel.

"That's assault, Gab," Kai said. "Everyone saw it."

"And I'd do it again," she said, aiming to flick the towel at his thigh.

Dylan ignored the antics, but he looked up and indeed caught Michelle's eyes, which sparkled even from thirty or so metres away. He noticed her messy hair was now tied in a messy bun. She smiled and waved and he waved back, and she flossed a little dance. He smiled, noting she'd decorated her marquee with balloon animals, and now she held a sausage dog balloon in her hand, walking it through the air to her chalkboard sign and stuck it on top.

"Maybe Kai is right," Gabby said, watching the interaction.

"Her brother was a school mate of mine, a long time ago. She's just friendly."

"Last time a girl was that friendly with me, I ended up giving her the sausage," Kai said, turning to collect the aluminium foil trays for the sausages and onions. "Maybe you'll get to paint her face, I mean get a face paint from her."

"Dude, have some respect."

"Yeah, you really need to stop," Gabby said, her voice serious and her face an extra shade of stern.

Kai grinned with his head down to the task at hand.

More people were in the school yard, walking among the other stalls, and of course a queue formed at the neighbouring coffee van. A number of people enquired about the state of the sausages, and were told they'd be ready at eight. Kids were running about, some going to Michelle's marquee with coins and notes in their hands.

Soon enough sausages were ready and people made a bee line for their stall, handing over money or presenting debit or credit cards to Gabby on serving duties. Dylan filled the orders by placing sausages and onion on white bread, or handing a soft drink or juice over, and Kai ensured the cooking continued without interruption. Tomato or barbeque sauce or mustard were applied and adults stood around chatting while kids ran off to find whatever mischief they could.

"Do you cook your steaks on a grill or the hotplate when you barbeque," Kai said, making serious small talk for a change.

"Grill mostly," Dylan replied, glad Kai wasn't talking shit. He placed a new row of sausages across the hotplate. "If I'm prepared, I'll marinate the meat for maybe a day, or if I'm in a rush I'll simply season and oil the meat well, make the barbie as hot as possible, whack the steak on for about a minute-and-a-half each side to sear, depending on the thickness, let the flame do its thing, then leave it with the grill turned off for another minute or two."

"Oh yeah," Kai said, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as if he were in some kind of fantasy barbeque ecstasy. "It needs to be charred on the outside and bleeding from within. Add some rosemary and garlic. A literal chef's kiss! Do you ever smoke your meat?"

"Nah, I haven't. It's too time consuming for me. But a mate does it and it's bloody magnificent. He infuses it with smoking woodchips and bastes it tenderly like a lover."

"Now you're talking. And here we are frying sausages on these ancient hotplates when we could be cooking like kings."

"I don't think kings cook. Probably because it takes a lot of effort. Kings make friends with someone passionate about the way they cook meat."

"Yeah, but it's totally worth it. I have a cheap Bunnings smoker, but I'm gonna upgrade soon."

"We should be selling steak here. Can you imagine how much we'd charge for a black Angus?"

"Oh, yeah, we'd make a fortune. I reckon I'd buy half, though."

"You mean it'd cost the school a fortune," Gabby chimed in. "The butcher's only donating his cheapest left overs for us today."

Children began appearing with faces painted as tigers and leopards and dogs and a rendition of a unicorn. Dylan couldn't help note how talented Michelle's face painting abilities were. He wondered if they wore sunscreen, feeling the bite from above when he wasn't under the marquee. He looked to the sky, only a few clouds among the vast blue, white and fluffy with a tinge of grey underbelly.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Dylan's attention snapped back to the giggles where Kai was hugging his identical twin daughters, each with long curly black hair and big dark brown eyes like their father's. They'd come around the working side of the trestle table, and Gabby looked a little concerned they'd stepped too close to the barbeques, but didn't say anything.

A woman with bleached blond hair and giant red handbag slung over a mildly tattooed left arm approached, saying, "Stop bothering your father, he's working."

"My princesses never bother me," Kai said, hugging his girls tighter. "You go and check out the stalls, Jade. I'll look after these two scoundrels."

The girls giggled some more and their mother shot Kai a look Dylan deciphered as annoyance or frustration or something else. She walked away and Kai introduced him to Princess Bailey and Princess Taylor.

"I've never met real princesses before," Dylan told them. "What an honour and pleasure to meet you."

"We're not real princesses," Bailey replied, all matter of fact.

"Daddy calls us princesses," Taylor added. "But we're actually YouTubers."

"But I want to fly helicopters."

"She means she wants to be a pilot like Aunty Kristie. But I think she will be a YouTuber, though."

"I will be a pilot! You want to be the stupid YouTuber, not me."

"Hey, girls," Kai said, handing them a twenty dollar note each. "How about you go and get your faces painted and buy some fairy floss or popcorn."

The girls took the money, both saying, "Thank you, Daddy," in the politest manner possible, before giving Kai a big hug.

Dylan lost track of who was who but it didn't matter. He saw Kai in a new light, too. "Great bunch of kids you have there."

"Little terrors," Kai said, returning his attention to the barbeque. "Everyone sees them as being so similar, but sometimes they're so different."

"But you wouldn't have them any other way," Gabby added with a rare smile.

"Nah, they're the best."

They continued cooking and selling sausages, each of them wondering if they'd have enough until midday. Sue occasionally dropped by, poking around unnecessarily with her support clipboard. Her husband, Chris, wasn't to be seen, which was probably a defence mechanism on his part.

Every now and then Dylan looked across to Michelle, and occasionally their eyes would meet and she'd smile or wave. He couldn't help but think of all those years ago, all the school yard shenanigans her brother instigated.

It feels like yesterday, he thought.

Dylan half expected to see Josh rock up at the gate with a flanno tied around his waist and his hair long and greasy like when they'd last been in touch, ride his skateboard across the quadrangle, weaving in and out of the punters before kick-flipping down the short flight of concrete stairs leading to the bottom oval where the jumping castle was set up. And he'd likely stack the landing. It's how Josh used to roll...

God, we all did some crazy shit back then...

Dylan considered how he and Josh were mates from kindergarten all the way through to the end of High School and one or two years beyond. They drifted apart with different interests, different lives and careers and new friends.

Dylan recalled Michelle back then, Josh's little sister who he barely interacted with or even paid attention to, but she was always there when he visited Josh's house, always trying to talk with him, always annoying her brother. She was younger and didn't register on his radar to even talk to in those days. However, he'd clearly spent enough time around Michelle to recognise her at forty all these years later. It helped the years appeared to have treated her extra kindly, where she looked like a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, perhaps.

She was busy painting a kid's face when Dylan next scanned the quadrangle, and they didn't lock eyes this time. He recognised his Mum with his kids wandering about the stalls, hoping they were all sunscreened up. He watched his mum direct the kids towards him at the barbeques, while she browsed the produce.

Dylan followed his kid's progress through across the quadrangle, though the crowd, his eyes feeling the pungent sting from the onions he was cutting. A moment later Marion and Oliver were standing at the other side of the table at the head of the queue. Marion spoke to Gabby, pointing at Dylan, saying, "Can we speak with our Daddy, please?"

Gabby replied, "You must be Marion and Oliver. Of course you can speak to your Daddy. But between you and me he's a bit teary at the moment."

Kai whispered to Dylan in jest, "Trust you to get out of cutting onions."

He was right, because Dylan was grateful to step away from the onions. "Hey, Kids. Please step to the side so others can buy their sausages. Are you looking after Grandma?"

"Hi Daddy," Marion said, brushing a wisp of blond hair from her face while stepping to the end of the table. "Your eyes look all red."

"I've been cutting onions, darling."

"You and Mummy used to argue who would cut the onions. She always won. Anyway, Grandma forgot her purse. She said you might have some money you could lend us."

Kai gave a little snort and whispered, "This is how it will be for evermore, mate. Might as well hand over your credit card."

Dylan chuckled at Kai's quip, but pulled a twenty dollar note from his wallet, handing it to his daughter. "Didn't Grandma remind you to bring your pocket money?"

"Grandma said she would treat us to the fair, but like I said, she forgot her purse."

Not for the first time Dylan wondered about his mother's memory. "Sometimes it's Grandma who needs reminding."

"Grandma says she is always forgetting things," Oliver pipped up, a grin on his face. He was a little blondie too, like his sister and their mother, with big blue eyes, a snotty nose, and a Milo stain on his Bluey and Bingo shirt.

"It's up to you kids to look after your Grandmother," Gabby said, "And your Grandfather. Grandparents are such important people in your lives. Maybe you would like a sausage each?"

"No thank you," Marion said. "Maybe later. And thanks, Daddy."

"Look after your brother," Dylan said, unnecessarily, receiving a less than discreet eye roll.

Kai dumped more onions on the hotplate with a great sizzle and plume of oniony steam, and he said to the kids, "There's face painting over there. The face painting lady's name is Michelle. Tell her your Daddy says Hi. She'll be so happy."

"Kai!" Gabby hissed.

Dylan felt the latest wave of aggravation at Kai's presumed familiarity with him. He assumed the man was like this with his mates on whatever building site they were on, ragging each other out and pranking each other all day long, but he'd only met Kai a couple of hours previously and the bloke barely let up.

He watched Marion take Oliver's hand and they walked over to Michelle, who appeared to be painting a kid's face with some kind of ocean scene. Without taking his eyes from Michelle and his children, he said, "Mate, give up on the Michelle talk. Especially in front of my kids. That was inappropriate."

"I'm trying to help you out, mate. No harm intended."

"Nah, I don't need your help."

"She is fine and she needs..."

"Quit it," Gabby said, giving Kai another whack with the tea towel.

Kai stayed silent for a bit, and Dylan gave Gabby a nod of appreciation, shifting his attention to his mother browsing the stalls without her handbag, her hair a bob of grey. He recalled he was about nineteen years old when his mum was forty four, the age he was right now. He remembered her even younger, a vibrant attractive woman who received admiring attention from many men. But she'd always loved Dylan's dad, who he thought about too, the man who was fit and active his entire life, playing cricket and rugby league all the way into his fifties. He taught Dylan to surf, taking him hiking up rugged mountains, giving him a love for exercise, and was rarely seen wearing anything other than boardies and t-shirts or singlets most of the time. Now his dad wore brown old man trousers with collared shirts in his retirement. Dylan couldn't even remember when the transition had taken place. And since his fall last year, Dylan had come to realise that his old man really was an old man.

"Can one of you take over service duties for a moment," Gabby asked, interrupting Dylan's thoughts. "I gotta go to the loo."

"Sure," Dylan said. Gabby gave him a quick rundown on how to trouble shoot the tablet and card reader if they stopped working, then left him to serve the customers.

A young woman approached, Miss Wang, who was a teacher at the school.

"Hello, Miss Wang," Dylan said, "Would you like a sausage?"

"Good morning," she replied, smiling warmly. "I'd love a sausage, thank you."

"One sausage it is. Kai, do you have a sausage ready, mate?"

"As everyone knows I have the finest sausage in town," Kai said, turning around, taking a sausage from the alfoil tray with his tongs and placing it theatrically onto the bread. "And this is democracy manifest, Lily. What is the charge? Eating a meal? A succulent sausage meal?"

She looked like she'd seen a ghost, briefly hesitating to hand over her two dollars. Taking a moment, Lily Wang regained her composure and smiled. "Hello, Kai. Are you well?"

Kai handed the sausage over. "Not too bad, thanks. How about you? You look great. You don't need any more handy man work, do you?"

Shaking her head, but smiling again, she said, "No, thanks, everything is in order at home. You're doing a great job with these sausages, boys. Keep up the good work."

"Great to hear. Hey, Lily, it's great to see you, ay."

Lily bit her bottom lip, holding eye contact with Kai for more than a moment, and Dylan wondered what he'd just witnessed, and kept wondering so as Lily opened her mouth and wrapped it around the end of the sausage poking from the bread. She took a bite, shared a grin with Kai, then turned and strolled across the quadrangle.

"Fuck, man, what the hell?" Dylan said once Lily walked out of earshot. "I guess I don't need to know."

"Mate, she took one look at me and came straight for the sausage."

"She didn't even know it was you until you turned around. Then she looked like she saw a ghost. You clearly know each other."

"We do, she taught the girls two years ago. I did some electrical work and general handyman stuff for her last year. She used to call me regularly with issues only I could fix, such as helping screw her lightbulb..."

"I don't want to know."

"Plug her leaky pipe..."

"Yeah, nah, like I said, I don't want to know." Dylan wondered how much Kai's wife knew about Lily.

Kai shook his head. "You're missing out on the best parts. But, hey, speaking of someone coming for some sausage..."

Dylan turned in the direction Kai gestured, only to come face to face with two beautiful eyes and a smile so cheeky and cute, and he said, "Hi, I wondered how long it would take for you to come over for a snack."

Michelle's grin grew a little cheekier and in less than a split second she fired back, "I do like a man who knows his meat."

Kai was behind Dylan, but he made a sound like he almost choked or clearing his throat. "I can assure you, Michelle, Dylan here knows his meat. From what I've heard, he's quite the master when it comes to grilling a juicy, rare, slab of beef."

Dylan internally winced, wishing Kai would shut the fuck up, especially after what he recently implied about the lovely Miss Wang.

Michelle chuckled. "You think you're on fire, Kai, but it was beyond well done and I think you're frying my patience."

"She has a point, mate," Dylan added, "You need to tone your shit down."

Kai grinned and said, "You people need to get a sense of humour."

Dylan ignored his barbeque companion, all eyes and attention on the lovely woman in front of him. "What can I help you with?"

Michelle held up a couple of twenty dollar notes. "Two things. Firstly, can I swap these for change, if you don't mind? Kids keep giving me twenty dollar notes."

"Sure thing," Dylan said, taking the note and counting off forty dollars in one and two dollar coins from the black cash box on the table. "Sorry, I gave my daughter twenty bucks too."

"I know, how dare you," Michelle whispered, "That's partly why I'm over here. Your kids are delightful and Oliver said you said Hi to me."

"I think someone else prompted him."

Still whispering, Michelle replied, "I know, it was Kai."

"I can hear you," Kai said, standing at the grill.

"Hey, we're talking about you, not with you," Michelle said in a normal tone. "You go back to watching our lovely grade three teacher over there."

Kai did look over to where Lily was talking with a couple of parents by the gate.

Dylan smiled. "What was the second thing you needed to know?"

"Both your kids want me to paint them as Arthur. Now, I didn't know who Arthur is, and on further investigation your kids confessed Arthur is a dog. Their dog, to be precise. I asked what kind of a dog Arthur is, and I've never heard of a... Sal.. u.. ki?"

"Saluki."

"That's it. So, for some reason my phone isn't connecting to the internet and I don't know what it looks like."

"Think of a greyhound with ridiculous long ears like a spaniel's, but they kinda look like long silky hair instead of ears. Here, I have a picture or few thousand." He held up his phone showing the home screen with Marion and Oliver sitting each side of grinning Arthur last Christmas. "I'll text you a pic, what's your number?"

"Oh my God, how adorable! Look at his beautiful face! Oh my God!"

"He's my crazy boy."

"You do like red heads," Michelle said. "For example, Rebecca MacFarlane."

"You've mentioned Rebecca twice now. And I didn't choose Arthur, my ex did, but he really chose me. He can't help his ridiculous ears with those glorious red locks."

A queue began to form and Michelle gave him her phone number and another cheeky grin. "Save me a sausage. I'll be back for it later. Now stop slacking off because those sangers aren't going to sell themselves."

"Yeah, crack the whip!" Kai said, adding a whip-sound effect, "Wah-tssshhh."

"I think I saw your wife coming up the path from the oval with your girls, Kai, so best you stop ogling Miss Wang."

Kai looked away from Lily, and Michelle's smile was cheeky right before she turned and walked away. Dylan couldn't help watching her, everything about her gorgeous with a whip-smart cheeky brain to match. And the fact she'd mentioned his serious high school girlfriend from all those years ago, twice now.

And it finally hit him, She must have had the biggest crush on me back then!

"Well that was the smoothest pick up I've ever seen," the woman next in the queue said. She smiled and continued, "Maybe I can give you my number too."

"Incredible job, mate," Kai added. "I am seriously impressed. Now you have all the woman wanting a piece of your meat."

"I told you earlier, Michelle's an old friend who I haven't seen in a long time."

"Sure, mate. She wants you to save your sausage for her. Perhaps you can hide it between her buns?"

Dylan shook his head, but decided Kai wouldn't let up, so perhaps ignoring him would be best. He recognised the chemistry he shared with Michelle was undeniable, making his heart flutter a little, surprising him. He quickly texted the picture of Arthur he'd taken before their run this morning, marvelling how perhaps it really was the smoothest pickup from Michelle.

Gabby returned and Kai said to her, "You're not gonna believe what happened."

"What," she asked with a curious frown.

"Nah, I'll let Dylan tell ya. I don't want you hitting me with the tea towel again."

"Lily Wang, came by," Dylan said, "And she and Kai had the weirdest interaction I've ever seen."

"We've had weirder interactions, believe you me."

Gabby's curious frown changed into one of annoyance. "What is with you two?"

Kai laughed. "Nah, it was nothing."

"It really was nothing," Dylan said.

Kai grinned but didn't elaborate, and Gabby's frown grew.

Dylan spent the rest of the time thinking of Michelle, who'd hardly left his mind for more than a second since they'd met only a few hours previously. Both Marion and Oliver returned with faces painted like a dog, with a black nose on their noses, a red-brown narrow muzzle outlined each side of their noses, and comically long hairy Arthur ears painted down the sides of their faces.

The kids received the last few sausages, along with their Grandma, who told Dylan they were taking the kids home now.

"Did you buy anything, Mum?" Dylan asked.

"Oh, no, I left my purse at home," she replied

"You need to remember these things."

She grinned. "I figured you could pay, um, what's your name again? Dill, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Mum."

"Oh, I saw you chatting to Michelle Rigby. You know her brother is Josh Rigby who you were friends with back in school, right?"

"I did and I know, thanks, Mum."

"She's single, you know. I ran into her mother recently."

"Go, please," Dylan said, but he couldn't help chuckling.

"Dylan's saving a special sausage for Michelle," Kai said, but not too loud, and Dylan was glad his mother didn't hear, or perhaps she pretended not to. He was looking forward to when he and Kai parted ways, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Gabby and Kai began to clean the barbeque, and Gabby said, "It seems the universe is trying to tell you something, Dylan."

"I think it's telling me I'm bound to make a fool out of myself."

"It will definitely make you a dill," Kai said.

"Yeah, we get it," Dylan said.

"Sorry, it's my Dad joke-ability, I can't help it."

"You've got nothing but lame-ability, Kai." Gabby said.

Kai shook his head. "Nah, Gab, you wouldn't be able to tell a Dad joke if you fell over it."

"You reckon? Why is it then that dad jokes are like elevators?"

"Because they give you a lift."

"No, Kai, because they work on so many levels."

Dylan chuckled at Gabby's deadpan delivery and the look on Kai's face.

Gabby smiled. "See, he gets it."

"That's not all he'll be getting," Kai said.

"And there you go yet again, ruining the mood."

"Nah, I'm lifting the mood up on many different levels."

"Go home, Kai," Gabby said.

"Don't tempt me. But right now here comes the boss."

Gabby and Dylan looked in the direction Kai was facing, noting Sue approaching, clipboard and phone still stuck to her hand. She came directly around the trestle tables under the marquee. "You've sold out? Great. Make sure you clean the hotplates and pack this all away. If you don't mind sticking about to help the other's pack up, I'd most appreciate it."

"Barbeques are clean," Kai said. "I'm not sticking around, sorry, because like I told you earlier, I have to get the family to important business at Suncorp."

"You're going to watch the Warriors clobber the Coyboys too, eh, Kai," Gabby said. "Prepare to be humiliated."

"Yeah, nah, Cowboys will smash your Warriors."

"I think you'll be eating your words," Gabby replied, her Kiwi accent appearing to strengthen with every syllable. She turned to Sue. "Sorry, but I also have to get my family to the footy."

"I'll hang about till whenever," Dylan said. "I have the storage shed key."

"I wondered where the key disappeared to, thank you, Dylan," Sue said. "I do hope you'll consider joining the P and C after this."

"He'll be over there," Kai said, "Helping young Michelle with her painting."

"We'll see," Dylan replied to Sue and ignoring Kai.

Four sausages and a scattering of onion remained in the aluminium tray, and the three of them dropped some coins in the cash box or held their phone against the card reader, and constructed their sausage sandwiches in the same fashion they'd made them all morning: the sausage laid diagonally across the bread, the bread then folded around the sausage and some onion plonked on top, plus a squirt of their individual choice of sauce or mustard. A sausage in bread, an Aussie barbeque staple for school fetes, elections and the carpark of the major hardware chain. And they'd not even received a specification from Sue to put the onion under the sausage rather than on top, like they do at Bunnings.

Dylan gave one sausage a squirt of tomato sauce, and barbeque on the other. "I'll be back in a moment."

"We'll, he's not coming back ever," Kai said, loud enough for him to hear, and he also heard Gabby chuckle.

He felt their eyes on him when he approached Michelle under her marquee. He didn't care they were being watched. Everything about his interactions with Michelle were a pleasantly fun surprise. Her stall screamed fun too, decorated with her random balloon animals, plus her chalk sign and colourful paintings with ideas of animals to prompt kids if they couldn't decide how they wanted their face painted.

Michelle was currently without a customer, facing away and bent over the small table she'd set her paints on, giving Dylan a fine view of her backside, which of course was actually covered by her skirt. Her calf muscles were toned in a way suggesting perhaps she worked out, and so were her arms.

"It's nice to see your good side for a change."

Michelle turned around so fast with a frown. "That's inappropriate, mister."

"I'm so sorry," Dylan said, his heart thumping a little faster. "I was just..."

"You will be sorry if you don't slip that fat juicy sausage into my hand." She couldn't sustain her frown, her lips naturally forming a smile. "I see you have squirted special sauce onto them."

Dylan smiled too, his heart rate remaining elevated, but not because he was worried about saying the wrong thing anymore. He decided his interactions with Michelle this day were the most fun thing he'd done since... well, for many many years, and he couldn't even remember flirting this much with his ex-wife in their early courtship. "Tomato or barbeque."

"I'll have tomato." She took the offered sausage and said, "Give me a moment and I'll give you two bucks."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's on the house."

"No, I'll pay."

"If you insist. I have to get back and start packing up. Are you staying long?"

"As long as Sue wants me here. I think we're supposed to pack up by two at the latest."

"Great, I'd like to catch you before I leave."

Michelle's eyes twinkled. "Did you think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?"

"We do have each other's number already, and you have a picture of my dog."

"I do. He's such a handsome boy. Perhaps I could meet him someday?"

"Sure, how about tomorrow?"

"Hmmm, well, let me think," she said, tapping her finger on her chin and her eyes staring at the marquee's ceiling. "I have so many fun options tomorrow, like mopping the floor and washing clothes, or meeting your dog."

"It's a tough decision, I know. Do you run in the mornings by any chance?"

"I was the school cross country champion at primary school two years in a row, you know, and competed at the state championships in high school."

"I did not know this."

"You never did pay much attention."

"Okay, I'm paying attention now."

"I'm not so sure, I need more evidence."

"How about, since I have your number, in the morning I'll text you when I'm leaving for my run. It used to take me about ten minutes to get to your place when I was in school. Be out front."

"That was a long time ago," she said, glancing him up and down. She gestured the sausage sandwich towards the one he'd kept for himself. "And your diet isn't so great these days. You're not a young man anymore."

Dylan laughed but was mesmerised by Michelle's cheeky grin. "Let's find out together if this old body of mine is up to it. Maybe we can get a coffee somewhere and the winner shouts the loser."

"I'll be leaving my money at home then."

"You really are sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I back myself," Michelle said, then took a bite of her sausage. "Hmmm, yum, luke warm sausage on white bread. Just like a democracy sausage, but without the politics."

"Yeah, and with onion and special sauce too."

"Oh, yeah, my favourite."

Dylan smiled. "I'm glad. Hey, I have to help the others. I'll see you in a bit?"

"Maybe, if you're lucky," she said.

"You'll miss me."

Michelle grinned and replied by shoving the rest of the sausage in her mouth.

Dylan returned to the barbeques, ready for Kai's smart arsed innuendo. He and Gabby were folding down the marquee, and Kai said, "You certainly bought the winning ticket today, mate."

"You both did," Gabby added. "You and Michelle, of course. Not you and Kai."

"I'm glad you clarified it wasn't Kai and me," Dylan said a grin.

"I think we make a great team, Dylls," Kai said in an overly exaggerated manner. "With our sausage handing skills combined..."

"No, thank you, Kai," Gabby said, clearly fed up with the man's antics. "I don't want to hear any more of your shit."

Dylan was quietly pleased Gabby put Kai in his place. He knew it was all locker room talk, and he'd teased mates like this in his footy and cricket playing youth, but he hardly knew Kai, where they'd only met this morning and weren't mates at all.

They began the laborious task of transferring equipment back to the storage room, stacking the marquees, the weights, trestle tables and barbeques. Soon enough it was all squared away and other stall holders began going through the same process, having sold their cakes and popcorn and fairy floss. Sue was overseeing the operation, ensuring people did what they already knew to do. Michelle was packing her paints away too and Dylan recognised she'd soon require help with her marquee.

"I guess that's that," Gabby said. "Well done and thank you both. It's been entertaining, despite your best efforts to make it otherwise, Kai. And Dylan, I look forward to hearing all the gossip about Michelle and you next time we meet."

She'd cracked another smile, Dylan noted. He told her, "We'll make some stuff up for you, to keep it entertaining."

"Blind Freddy could see you two sparked, so I don't think you'll be short of entertainment."

Kai held out his hand and Dylan shook it. "Good to work with you, mate. Sorry if the banter was a bit much. I got a bit carried away. Maybe we'll have you around for some smoked meat sometime?"

"Yeah," Dylan said, hearing a genuine offer, but not entirely sure if he'd accept it. But it was an offer and you never know how these opportunities play out. It's always good to know a tradie. "You let me know and we'll make it happen."

"Will do. I have to run before Sue tries to drag me into something else. I'll see yas later, ay."

"Yes," Gabby said, "If I don't see you at the footy or school yard, I'll see you at the P and C meeting next month."

Dylan noted with amusement how, despite their farewells, Gabby and Kai ended up walking side-by-side in the same direction across the quadrangle towards the gate. He wondered about Kai and his dedication to the school's P&C Association, despite his significant lack of decorum. He's just a typical thirty something year old guy, I suppose, he thought. Not that boys will be boys was an excuse, but he himself wasn't the most mature forty four year old, so he supposed he'd be a hypocrite to criticise Kai too much.

I guess we're all young at heart.

He looked around and noted Michelle packing away her balloon animals and he walked over. She saw him approaching this time and said, "Sorry, face painting's closed. You should have come earlier."

"I came for one of those cute balloon dogs."

"These are my pets. This one is called Schnitzel. The elephant is Phantasmic, because she's unreal. And my cockatoo is Splinter."

"But Splinter is a rat."

"No, Splinter was a cockatoo who used to chew on architraves and other timber parts of my house. Well, my house when I owned a house."

"Did Splinter eat all your house?"

"No, it was a shitty little house with so many problems, including shitty little termites who ate the internal framing. It was a horribly expensive lesson."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But I like your pets. I didn't know you were so talented. Well, of course I knew you're talented, but I didn't know you were a balloon artist. Did you learn this as a kid?"

"No, I went to ballooniversity to learn."

"Of course." He noted Sue watching them so he said to Michelle, "I'm going to take those weights back to the shed."

"Great, thanks." She smiled and her eyes twinkled and she retuned her attention to packing the other balloon animals away.

Several stall holders were in the storage room, putting away items they'd borrowed from the school. Chris turned up, speaking the moment he was through the door. "They got the forecast wrong again, but I'm glad it didn't rain. How'd you all go? Sold all the sausages, eh, Dylan?"

"It was great, we sold them all," Dylan replied, looking forward to getting away from the small talk and back to Michelle. Chris told them all about the jumping castle and games on the oval he'd supervised, and Dylan wondered if he told the stories to justify his absence for most of the morning. Maybe he did indeed do something useful, overseeing the kid's activities? At least Chris pitched in to help stall holders return their marquees and trestles to the store room or their cars.

Dylan returned to Michelle and began to help her pack the marquee she'd borrowed from the school. She said, "Look at me, always the last to pack up."

"It's your clowning around."

Michelle pouted and said, "You're a clown."

"I guess comebacks weren't on the curriculum at ballooniversity."

"I do have the perfect comeback, but you'll have to wait till it gets here."

"I look forward to it."

"You might be waiting a while, it's taken the scenic route."

"Maybe it's stopped to take in the beautiful scenery for a while."

"What do you think it sees?"

"You, I'm pretty sure."

Michelle's cheeks flushed red, but she chuckled and said, "I think my comeback's too flustered to show up now."

Dylan's heart thumped a little harder. "Come on then, let's pack this away."

"I'll pack you away."

"I do hope so."

They shared grins while pushing the edges of the marquee in, the frame concertinaing together, then they dropped the legs and Dylan fetched the cover and they stuffed it all inside with little room to spare.

Michelle looked around, watching people saying bye to each other and speaking with Sue. "I hardly know anyone here. No one except you came to say hello to me today. I suppose it's true I didn't visit them and we were all kinda busy. But the P and C is a funny club. Apparently Sue's been president since her kids were in kindergarten. Her youngest leaves primary next year to go to high school, so I guess this is Sue's last year too."

"So I've heard. She and Chris are my parent's neighbours. They've been there perhaps seven years now. They're not like the people who used to buy into this area."

"You mean not like our parents?"

"Yeah, there's not many blue collar types able to afford here now."

"Yeah, times have changed. Even the Union Exchange is kinda fancy and no longer a bikies pub."

"Yeah, we went there one night. There's bloody carpet throughout and schooners are more than ten bucks a pop! Anyhow, are you going to run for Pres of the P and C?"

Michelle snorted. "No thanks. It's not my scene. I'm happy to help at these fund raisers but I don't want to get involved in the politics."

"Yeah, I can't picture you marching around with a clipboard all day."

Michelle chuckled, then whispered, "Shhh, she's coming over. Don't look! She'll know we were talking about her."

"Dylan, Michelle, I see you have things under control here."

"I wouldn't call it control," Dylan said, "But it's something."

"You've been super helpful today, so I think we can call it under control. And Michelle, thank you for another year helping out with face painting. You certainly have the knack. So many children were running about as dogs and cats and unicorns."

"It's my pleasure to help," Michelle replied. She handed over the cash box. "For the P and C's coffers."

"Coffers make it sound like we have a hoard of money," Sue said, smiling.

"Hopefully it's enough for the new shelves in the library like you spoke about last time."

"I hope so. Anyway, I have to get home to make sure my kids haven't destroyed the house in our absence. Do you mind locking up, Dylan? I can get the key off you later."

"Sure, Sue."

"Great. Thanks again. We'll have you and your kids over for dinner some time."

They farewelled each other and Chris dropped by and said his farewell too, and soon Dylan and Michelle were alone. Few people lingered around the quadrangle, mainly waiting as a few kids were shooting hoops at the other end, and a couple of families chatting at the sides.

Michelle looked around. "The school looks so similar, but at the same time, so different."

"I agree. To me it looks smaller. But fresher, too. There's so many covered areas compared to when we were here."

"Yeah, the kids can mostly play undercover now, if they need to. Remember the rules, no hat, no play. They made us go to the library or sit under the big Moreton Bay Fig tree by the oval."

"It's such a shame that tree came down in that storm a few years ago."

"Yeah, I loved it so much. So shady and fun to hide among the roots, but we always got busted if we climbed it."

"Everyone loved the old fig. Apparently it was a hundred or two hundred years old when it fell. I recall seeing pictures in the school office from the old days of kids sitting all along those massive low branches watching a sports carnival or something."

"I've seen those photos too," Michelle said, looking through the gap between the hall and the library, where the path led to the short flight of concrete steps down to the oval, with its modern treeless boundary. "I guess back in the good old days teachers didn't mind kids climbing the tree. Kids were tougher back then."

"Probably. We'd sometimes climb it on weekends when no one was around. Actually, I remember your brother daring us to see how high we could go. We all survived."

"Some kids barely did. Josh knocked himself out falling from the bottlebrush tree in our backyard when he was little. Didn't knock any sense into him. He's had way too many hits to the head."

Dylan was curious about his old school mate and how he was doing, but Michelle's words triggered another memory. "We used to have epic games of handball here in the quad."

"We did too."

"I bet every year did. We played one game with about sixteen kids in sixteen individual squares instead of the usual four. We'd often get into arguments over the ball being in or out, and one time an argument turned into full on brandings. I don't know who started it, but one moment a couple of kids down the back were arguing, next moment someone sconed someone else with the tennis ball, and suddenly there were four or five tennis balls being chucked at each other. Other kids across the school were getting involved or running for cover. I was hit several times, and I wasn't innocent either. We all played cricket in those days, so our throwing arms were well developed for our age, I think. Someone pegged a ball that plastered Josh's nose across his face. It was the closest I ever saw him come to crying, I reckon."

"I remember that!" Michelle was animated. "He went to hospital and I was taken out of class by Mum. I was probably in year one or something. We waited for hours, but nothing was broken. An amazing feat for Josh, come to think of it."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad no little kids in the younger years were hurt. One girl in our year, Jane Law, was unlucky because she was struck in the head while innocently playing elastics, as all the girls tended to do in those days. I'll never forget her scream."

"Oh, poor thing. You boys were animals!"

"We were total little shits, that's for sure. I randomly ran into Jane years later when I lived in London and she still talked about it. Anyhow, it all ended when a ball smashed through Mrs Fingal's classroom window, over there." Dylan pointed across the quadrangle to where it all happened.

"Mrs Fingal was a scary woman. Did you all get in trouble?"

Dylan chuckled at the memory, of how most of the boys involved began bolting for their lives but with nowhere to hide because it's not like they could have escaped school, never to return. "Remember Mr Sharp, our principal? I think he called your mum to pick Josh up and take him to hospital. After you left with them, Sharpie gathered the entire school into the quadrangle and gave a stern threat to ban all ball games if anything like that ever happened again, and how back in his day when he was our age we'd all have coped several cuts of the cane. Lucky there was no cane, but we didn't do it again and ball games weren't banned. Apparently Jane Law's Dad demanded the boy who threw the ball at her to be expelled, though but no one owned up to pelting her."

Michelle looked around, then to Dylan. "You really were little shits. I hope it wasn't you or Josh who threw the ball at her."

"No, I can honestly say it wasn't me. I promise. Unfortunately Jane was plain unlucky."

"For minding her own business while you boys terrorised the school yard? The worst I remember my brother and his mates like you doing was trying to act cool, listening to American gangster rap on your Walkmans and trying to breakdance. You guys were about as good as Raygun!"

"Nah, we were way better than her. They could have called me up to the Olympics with a single day's notice, and I coulda pulled off at least a level higher, for sure."

"Well, we know you are good at pulling something off," she said, her fingers curled into a tunnel and she pumped her hand up and down.

Dylan laughed. "Wow, you really are something. I don't quite know what, but you definitely are something."

"By something I take it you mean awesome."

"I didn't say those words," he replied. "But you've certainly improved with age."

"I'd like to think I was equally as awesome back then as I am now, and it's you who's improved because I can tell you notice me now."

"How could I not notice you?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Michelle said with a cheeky grin and blushing cheeks, almost whispering, "You cheesy sausage."

Butterflies fluttered in Dylan's stomach in a way they'd not fluttered in way too many years. Indeed, he'd wondered more than a few times since his divorce if he'd ever feel deeply for someone again. He was experienced enough at life to know this wasn't love he felt for Michelle, of course, but their rapport was extremely enjoyable and there was no doubt about the mutual attraction and their interactions were most wonderfully unexpected welcome experiences. After a brief moment of yearning gazes and smiles, naturally he said, "We should probably take this marquee to the shed."

"We should," was all she said. She picked up the small trestle table. "I'll carry this."

Dylan hefted the marquee bag onto his shoulder and they talked as they walked.

"So what do you do?"

"Work? I'm an engineer who flies a drone to inspect difficult to get at locations such as buildings and bridges. A little company my mate asked me to join a couple of years back. How about you?"

"Your job sounds interesting. I'm a graphic artist. It's kinda boring."

"Come off it, your face painting was amazing! Surely it's not quite as boring as you make out."

"It is when we have no free creative rein."

"You should sneak creativity into your work."

"Yeah, like I'm sure you can simply fly your drone off into the sunset if you get bored."

They'd reached the door to the storage shed, which was closed but not locked when Michelle gave it a push, holding it for Dylan to go through. She followed him and the door closed, its hinges creaking.

"That was a little creepy," Michelle said, locating the other plastic tables to stack the one she carried on top. "Is there a light in here?"

"Dunno, I didn't check earlier cos I kept the door open."

Vents placed evenly along the top of the wall directly below the ceiling, which was in fact the hardwood floor of the hall above, provided slithers of illumination, through which rays of light struggled to reveal anything until their eyes adjusted. The storage room was mostly located under the stage at the head of the hall, where the space under the hall floor was filled with dusty boxes, stacked chairs and tables, several old port racks, plus other miscellaneous items. Dylan propped the marquee against the others, beside the stack of ancient sport crashmats.

Their eyes were adjusting to the dimness, but barely made out shapes beyond a couple of metres. "In early primary school there was a rumour about how sometime many years before, several boys were playing hide and seek, and one boy hid up the back of the storeroom, and the door shut and locked him in. Apparently to this very day he's still down here."

Michelle switched on her phone's torch and scanned the space, settling on dusty boxes of God only knew what. "We all heard the same story and dared each other to go in here. We never did, until one day one of the girls decided there was nothing to be scared of, and moments after she entered we heard a blood curdling scream, and a few of us brave enough to help ran in after her and there was..." she swung the torch on Dylan, "... the boy, right there where you are!"

Dylan laughed, shielding his eyes against the light. "It was me all along!"

Michelle giggled, shining the light away, scanning the space again, dust illuminated by her beam. "It's a real time capsule in here."

"Yeah, it's like a museum," Dylan replied, peering at all the furniture, sports equipment, and boxes. "Come on, we should go."

He turned and his arm knocked one of the packed marquees, which fell to the stack of crashmats with a thud.

"EEEEKK!" Michelle spun on the spot, shining her torch on Dylan and the fallen marquee while clutching her chest.

He sniggered, watching her face change from terrified into a sheepish grin. "I don't think we're alone."

"You knocked that over on purpose."

"Hmmm," he said. "Maybe I did."

"We're supposed to be packing up, not pushing things over."

"Oh? You'll have to show me how packing up's done."

"You're the big strong man. You pick it up."

"I could pick you up..."

With his thoughts tumbling from his mouth, his verbal filter failing to catch up, he could see Michelle's grin well enough, perhaps half a metre from his face, their eyes meeting in the dimness. Dylan's heart thumped, moving slightly closer as he wondered, I want to kiss her...

Less than an instant later Michelle covered the space between them and took his face in her hands, mashing her lips on Dylan's. Not a tentative or hesitant kiss, but a vigorously hard kiss. Initially their kiss was closed mouth, but in less than a moment they'd adjusted, their mouths opening, tongues caressing and they began pashing like passionate lovers.

Nature took over, actions becoming automatic out of necessity as blood drained from their brains and rational thought processes turned to mush. After a few moments of kisses with Michelle, Dylan's cock was fat and hard, straining against his jeans, ready for duty. After a few seconds of kisses with Michelle, Dylan's hands found their way to her waist, and she was caressing her hands over his forearms to his biceps, her arms ending up resting on his shoulders with her hands linked behind his head. After perhaps a minute, their kisses grew slower, gentler, smaller, their lips desiring a slight break, separating for a brief moment. Michelle's grin returned and Dylan pulled them together, the pressure of her body pushing on his bulge.

"Oh, God," she whispered, "I feel it's erection day."

"I've not been able to keep my eyes from you all day."

"I've noticed," she replied, an arm leaving his shoulder, "Because I've thought about you all day, too. I've wanted to kiss you so much, and now..."

With matching silly smitten grins they moved together, their lips embracing and tongues caressing. A force shot through him like electricity when her hand cupped his manhood, the sensation sending him crazy. He wanted to pick her up, spin around and put her onto the crashmats, but he wasn't going to do those things without an enthusiastic invite.

The invite came when she pulled her lips from his, her voice breathy when she declared, "I'm dripping in my panties."

Dylan bent his neck to caress his lips down Michelle's neck, tasting her mix of light perfume, makeup and sweat.

"Oh, gentle," she breathed when his lips found her clavicle, and she stretched her neck back, inviting him to kiss her more. "You're crazy..."

"You are beautiful," he breathed in her ear, then sucked her lobe, narrowly avoiding her earing. She sighed and sighed some more when his hands migrated over her body, upwards, gently cupping her breasts, hidden all day by her apron and t-shirt, now leaving little to the imagination because they were a bit more than a handful when he gently squeezed her there, her tits soft but firm, wonderfully perfect in his palms. Her breath was hot on his cheek when she sighed, her nipples hard through her shirt, and he wanted to pull the cotton barrier between them away to suck her there. "You are so glorious."

"Glorious!" She gasped the word, her hand squeezing his cock tighter. "I want to see this glorious thing of yours."

"Feel it."

"I am," she said, moving her hand to his belt. She fumbled at the buckle, but managed to loosen the strap, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping, yet it was still a shock when her hand found its way into his jocks and wrapped around his shaft, electricity shooting through his nether regions when she stroked him once and twice. She whispered, "Wow."

"Wow, indeed," he said, kissing her, feeling her hand move over him, around him. He spun her, the stack of crashmats at the perfect height for her to sit. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't even trust myself," she said in her most breathy voice yet. "But I'm fucking soaking."

Dylan smiled, lifting Michelle gently onto the mat. "Lean back if you like."

She did, his hands slipping up her skirt, vigorously caressing her thighs, her skin smooth against his fingertips, contacting her panties, discovering they were as moist as she'd claimed, a wet patch over her hairy mound. She raised her bum to assist when he pulled at the hem of her underwear, taking her panties down her long legs, struggling to thread one leg hole over her shoe. Once he'd managed to sort her underwear out, he raced back to her skirt, diving under, her sex scent reeking intoxicatingly, overpowering his senses.

Dylan's face was among her muff hair, lapping at her juices which coated his lips and cheeks and chin, drinking her in, her warm thighs around his ears, and she arched her back and moaned, his kisses on her pussy lips, tonguing her clit, his hands holding her waist again. She gasped and her hands found his, and she said, "Forget that... oh, gosh it feels so good. But come up here."

Giving her cunt a long kiss with a lash of tongue resulted in her squeezing his hands, interlocking fingers, pulling at him with great urgency. He climbed onto the mats, over her, freeing one hand to fumble with his jeans, pushing them around his ankles, knocking his cock against her leg, no time to remove their shirts, feeling a cooler draft against his bum, bared to the dusty darkness.

"We have to make this quick," she whispered softly, "Before someone catches us."

"I think I'll be more than quick," he whisper replied, his face hovering over hers. "I haven't made love with a woman in a long time."

"Me neither," she said, smiling. "Nor a man for over five years. I'm practically a virgin again."

"Virgin," he chuckled. "I feel like one too."

"You better fuck me then, before we die virgins in this dungeon." She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face to hers, lips kissing again.

He was between her legs, her skirt riding up, his cock finding her wetness, searching for the way through to her hairy muff, and he moved into her entrance, and she pushed against him, and they were together, his cock plunging inside her slick cavity where she enveloped him all the way along his shaft to his balls. Dylan and Michelle kissed passionately the entire time until their groin skin ground together, when, for the briefest of seconds their lips were apart, she breathed, "Oh, yes..."

They kissed again, hard, Dylan pounding her into the crashmat. The sensation was crazy good, but he knew he wouldn't last, and he regretted it, wanting to pleasure Michelle to the best of his abilities for as long as the rest of time. "I'm not going to last."

"You and me both," she breathed into his mouth, their kisses vigorous again. His fat shaft stretched her, and again she took him all the way, their bodies in perfect synchronisation. The mats were firm but he drove her down, and needed additional support, slipping his right hand under her bum, pulling Michelle towards him with every thrust, and their lips no longer kissed, barely touching, and she gasped, "Oh, my, Dylan..."

Lifting his face from hers, he watched her in the gloomy light, her mouth open, short breaths, feeling the tingling building inside him, and she let out the tiniest squeak, her eyes going wide and she removed her hand from his back and clamped it across her mouth.

"Are you okay?"

"God, yes," her muffled reply, "Don't you dare stop, I'm coming..."

"So am I." Her pupils were black and huge, gazing directly into his in the dimness as his pressure burst at the limit, the squirting jolt of pleasure pumping volumes of cum from his fat shaft deep into her wet cavity, his juices mingling with hers as he filled her. He felt Michelle quivering and she still held her hand over her mouth, then she released it, whispering breathily, "Kiss me hard."

Michelle and Dylan kissed most vigorously, and their tongues mashed in their mouths, and she held him, wrapping her legs around him, the last spasms of pleasure rippling through both of them. Eventually when they took a breather from kissing, he could tell her cheeks were tinged in pink, even in the low light, and he felt her body under him, their skin together in places, but their top halves were still fully clothed, soaking with perspiration. Dylan marvelled at the rise and fall of her chest matching her hot breath on his face, her thighs wrapped tightly around him relaxing her grip again.

Dylan smiled. "Well, that wasn't on the P and C agenda."

"It was added to the list at the last moment. I'll tell you, I've never ever added anything like this to a list with such short notice before, so I hope you don't think I'd do this with anyone."

"Same. But I'd love get on this list again sometime."

"You're definitely on my naughty list." She squirmed and wriggled and sighed. "But I need you to get off now."

Dylan took the hint, very much aware they were still joined with his cock deep inside Michelle among the fluids of their love making. They shared a long gentle kiss, and he wriggled his cock a few times, feeling her and making her giggle, but she gently pushed him so he slid from her. He reached down to pull his jocks and jeans over his sticky cock and bare arse. Michelle hopped from the mats and was doing similar, pulling her underwear up her legs and under her skirt. She adjusted other items of clothing, and her hair was loose now, messy as fuck, sticking out this way and that. Her lips didn't curl up at the ends and she looked serious for the first time today, still catching her breath.

Dylan smoothed an errant strand of her brown hair with his hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, looking to him with a renewed smile, "Are you?"

"Yep. Couldn't be better."

"Great. It was... really great. Exciting and wonderful. And I'm glad it was you."

"It was wonderful and I'm glad it was you, too. Perhaps it was fate?"

"Some might say it was fait accompli. Because we met at the fete."

"Yes, I see what you did there," he chuckled.

"I'll leave now."

"I'll come with you."

"You already did!"

Dylan smiled and opened the door and they both squinted despite the clouds building now. He locked up and they began walking around the building, back towards the quadrangle.

"So, anyway... are you still up for a run tomorrow morning?"

"Send me a text and we'll find out."

"Okay, you're on."

Dylan kept processing what happened between them, and assumed Michelle was doing the same. Michelle stopped and turned, facing Dylan, her face still tinged red. "Um, so, I'm parked in Windsor Avenue on the other side of the school. I guess you're going to go home now?"

"That was my plan, I'd love to go for a coffee or something of you're interested?"

"I want to," she said, hesitation in her voice. "I have to get home to Willow. Um, look, yes, let's meet tomorrow morning, have a run, with no promises or expectations, and see how things go... if you would like too?"

"Yeah, sounds great, I'd love to."

"Wonderful," Michelle said, smiling. "I look forward to you, I mean, our catch up."

"Same," he said, wanting to lean in and kiss her. "Do you need a hand with the rest of your stuff?"

"No, I can get it."

"Okay," he replied, wanting to take her hands in his. "I'll catch you tomorrow."

She smiled. "You will. You can even buy me a coffee."

"I look forward to it." They hesitated and Dylan decided a goodbye hug would be a fitting way to part, spreading his arms a little, and she naturally threw her arms around him, and they gave one another a good squeeze.

"You feel soo good," she whispered. "Like home."

"I know, right." A few more seconds and they released their embrace.

She turned and walked to the bag of paints and balloons and her chalkboard, picking them up and she turned and smiled and waved.

Dylan waved back with a smile, already looking forward to tomorrow, conscious of the residual sensations and sticky juices she'd left on his cock and rest of his groin area in general, wondering how things would develop between them.

She hesitated and he waved again, and they both turned and went their separate ways.

~0~

Arriving home, Dylan found his father calibrating the brakes on Oliver's bicycle in the garage, blues music playing a little too loud as was his way since forever. Oliver, his face still painted as Arthur, watched his grandfather intently, spinning the wheels to test the brake pads didn't rub on the rims. His mother was gardening in the yard, while Marion played tennis against the brick garage wall. She'd practice tennis all day if she could. Arthur bounded over, his nose sniffing at Dylan, who agreed he stank and needed a shower.

In the evening they sat to dinner, a Saturday night family tradition from his childhood of melted grated cheese on toast. Dylan recalled how back in those days of his youth they'd sit to dinner on the lounge with molten cheese threatening to scold their mouths, all while watching Hey Hey it's Saturday on their old TV with its tiny screen. It didn't appear tiny back then, but compared to his parent's current sixty-five inch OLED flat screen, their old CRT TV was miniscule.

On this night Dylan's father watched the Rugby League, flicking back and forth through the channels to see what else was on, while his mother told his father to choose one program and leave the damn thing alone!

The kids quickly grew tired and bored and wanted their dad to read to them. Their beds were set up in his childhood bedroom, fitting side-by-side with about a metre between them, and Dylan read another chapter of The Hobbit until they fell asleep in his arms. He was glad because his eyes were drooping, and he carried Oliver the short distance to his own bed, grateful his kids still loved story time, but wishing he could get them a place with separate rooms of their own.

He considered joining his parents in front of the TV, but decided he too was exhausted and needed a decent sleep. The faster to bed, the quicker to rise and see Michelle. He farewelled his jubilant parents for the evening, finishing his bedtime routine while thoughts of Michelle took over all thoughts. He lingered on the memory of he and Michelle fucking in the store room this very afternoon. Crazy shit, what were we thinking? He thought about sending her a text and considered what he might say.

His queen bed took up most of his sister's former bedroom with barely a metre each side and a little more at the end where Arthur slept on his dog bed near the door. Arthur was flopped on the soft matting, half rolled on his back with paws in the air, his eye lids twitching a little.

Climbing into bed, Dylan wondered what time he should set his alarm. He and Michelle hadn't suggested a time and so now he began writing her a text to check if seven was too early. As if by magic, his phone buzzed in his hand and he almost dropped it, seeing it was a message from Michelle, his heart doing an instantaneous flip.

He opened the message and was greeted by his photo of Arthur at the top of the message thread, taken that very morning, with his head cocked to the side and smiling happily back at him, then sent to Michelle earlier in the day. So much had happened since then. Below the photo was Michelle's message.

Hey, thanks for your fat sausage today, it was the best I've had in forever. I'm not entirely without you tonight, because you must have saved up a huge load of special sauce, which is now leaking out of me! Oh, btw, does seven suit you for a run?

~0~