Imago, page 10
He hummed and moved his mouth over mine. I pulled back a little. “Jack?”
“Yes?”
“My suspenders are still on.”
* * *
I smiled as I pulled up out the front of the Parks and Wildlife office. Jack was standing by a Rural Fire Services truck, talking to a man I’d not seen before, and Rosemary sat happily at their feet.
I’d only left his house eight hours before. Again, I was tempted to stay the night, but I didn’t. He took my suspenders off all right. He wanted to take his sweet time with me, but I was so turned on, I begged for his mouth on me.
I swear he drove me crazy just because he could. Because he would rile me up to breaking point until I couldn’t bear it another second, and I’d beg and curse at him until he gave me relief.
And I could honestly say, no one had ever taken such thorough care of me. No one had ever treated me like a delicacy. Not like Jack did.
He grinned as he noticed me, waving at me to join him. He was wearing work shorts and a Parks and Wildlife polo shirt, with work boots worn by tradesmen, but oh boy, he’d never looked better. Well, that’s not true. He looked better last night when I’d returned the favour of fellatio. He’d looked unbelievable, then, with his head thrown back, his body taut, and muscles flexed as he came… and of course that memory made me blush.
I walked over to where he was still talking to a friend of his. “Good morning,” I said.
Jack grinned. “Tony, let me introduce you to Lawson Gale. Lawson, this is Tony Wells. Tony is the local superintendent for the RFS. Lawson’s here on official business for the University of Melbourne.”
“G’day. Nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand to shake. He was an older man but fit looking. “Jack was just telling me he’s heading up into Mount Stronarch today.”
“Yes,” I replied, hoping I didn’t blush any further. “Jack coming with me has been mutually beneficial.”
Jack tried not to smile, and I recalled my words.
Oh dear.
“I mean, he gets his work done, I get mine done. Separately. On the same trip, that’s all.”
Tony, thankfully, seemed unaware of my innuendo. He bent and gave Rosemary a pat on the head. “And Rosemary, CEO, overlooks everything.”
Jack laughed. “She does.”
After a few minutes of small talk, Tony bid us farewell, said it was nice to meet me, and went on his way. Jack watched the RFS truck pull away, then looked at me and laughed. “Jack coming with me has been mutually beneficial?”
I groaned. “I can’t believe I said that.”
He was still grinning when he collected his things out of his ute. He added them to my Defender. “You ready?”
“I am. Coffee’s in the cup holders.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll just go tell Karen I’ll be off then.”
I opened the rear passenger door to the Defender and told Rosemary to climb up. I harnessed her in, and a moment later was joined by Jack. He slid an Esky onto the backseat next to Rosemary, climbed into the front passenger seat, and buckled himself in. “So?” he asked. “Where are we going to first, in this mutually beneficial arrangement?”
I slipped the Defender into first gear and headed out on the highway. “Do you plan to remind me of that often?”
He picked up his coffee. “Yes. It didn’t help that you blushed.”
“All I could picture was your face when you orgasmed last night.”
Jack choked on his coffee. “Lawson!”
I shrugged. “I’m not at all embarrassed to admit it was highly erotic.”
Jack brushed down his shirt, wiping away spilled coffee. “You’re picturing it again right now, aren’t you?”
I shifted in my seat. “It really was a spectacular sight.”
He reached over and took my hand, lifting it so he could kiss my knuckles. “Do me a favour?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ever change.”
* * *
After spending the whole morning searching the last areas Jack had marked as known locations of the Bursaria spinosa plant in the Mount Stronarch National Park, I’d not found a single trace.
Yes, the plant was there, but there was no trace of Notoncus ants. And the Eltham Copper couldn’t live without them. There was no evidence of caterpillars, eggs, chrysalises… nothing.
I walked back to the Defender and put my gear in the back but took out the large folded map.
Jack came over. “What’s wrong?”
“Something isn’t right.” I unfolded the map and laid it on the ground. I weighed each corner down with rocks and studied the area. “Either the area is wrong or Professor Tillman was wrong, or if he had seen them here, they’re not here anymore.”
“He did see them a long time ago,” Jack reasoned. “What can change in a species’ life cycle over fifty years?”
Well, when he put it like that… “Everything.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Maybe. But the fundamentals can’t. Evolution takes longer than a few decades. So tell me, and I’m being serious, what can change? Or what is most likely to change in that time frame. Look at it objectively, Lawson. Break it down into categories and reassess your search.”
I stared at him. My first reaction was to tell him not to tell me how to do my job. But he was right, and putting my ego aside, I took his suggestion as a learning tool instead. “Migration patterns. Their diet won’t change. They can adapt, yes, but their food source of choice is Bursaria spinosa and that is available, so it stands to reason they would eat it if they were here. Migration patterns could change, yes. I can’t dispute that, but there are no Notoncus ants.”
Jack considered what I’d said. “Explain the triangle of dependency thing again.”
I’d only mentioned that once to him before in the very beginning, and it thrilled me that he’d remembered it. “You have the Eltham Copper butterfly, Bursaria plants, and Notoncus ants. The butterfly will lay its eggs in the roots of the Bursaria. Larvae live within the underground nests of the ants and emerge at night to feed on the Bursaria leaves. The ants protect the butterfly larvae while they feed, and in return, the ants feed upon sugar secretions from the larvae. It’s a rather complex plant-butterfly-ant-ecological interaction.”
Jack tilted his head. “So, maybe it’s not the habits of the butterfly that’s changed. Maybe it’s the ants.”
Of course! I smiled at him. “You’re very insightful.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
“So, in your observations of the parklands in your jurisdiction, have you ever noticed ant colonies?”
“Only about two thousand. But I don’t know what the Notoncus ant looks like.”
“Oh, that’s easy. The frontal carinae are weakly arched or straight along―”
Jack put up his hand to stop me. “Stop. You’re speaking to a civilian. Are they black or brown? Big or small? Do they look like a green ant or a meat ant?”
I smiled at him. “Sorry. Notoncus ants are the small black or brown common ant found in open soil or under stones and logs on the ground. Found in your garden, parks, everywhere, really.”
“Well, that narrows our search down to the entire state.”
Now I laughed. “It does.”
“Then why are you so happy?”
“Because I was getting frustrated and disheartened, but this gives my search a new focus.”
He cupped my face in his huge hands and kissed me. “So tell me, where do you start from now?”
I sighed and enjoyed the moment before I kissed his palm and looked back down to the map on the ground. “I can discount what I’ve searched so far. There are no traces of the Notoncus. Maybe I should study more on their changing migration habits and favoured climes.” I stared at Jack while my mind worked over some long-remembered facts.
“What?”
“You mentioned the Iridomyrmex.”
“No, I didn’t. I can’t even say that word.”
I snorted. “Also known as meat ants.”
“Ah, those I did. Bastards bite.”
My smile was slow spreading. “They also inhibit the morphological and behavioural adaptions of the Notoncus.”
Jack blinked. “And that’s important because…?”
“I noticed a few nests not far from the areas I’ve searched.”
“And the Notoncus won’t go near them?”
I shook my head slowly. “No, they won’t.”
“So, we need to find areas where there are no meat ants?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“How do you find that?”
“The Notoncus will live anywhere. Any type of soil, under rocks, bark, anywhere really. But the Iridomyrmex is soil-specific. You’ve been taking soil samples, yes?”
“Yes. As part of our ecosystem analysis. So we can see patterns of average climate changes, soil degeneration, moisture content, pH levels, vegetation quality, all at a glance.”
I picked up the map and folded it. “You,” I said, leaning up to kiss him quickly, “are a godsend.” I opened the rear passenger door of the Defender and called for Rosemary to get in.
As I was harnessing her in, Jack asked, “Where are we going?”
“To your office. How many years’ worth of data have you got?”
“Uh, our records go back fifty-something years.”
I was grinning when I threw him the keys. “You drive. I need to research a few things on the way.”
* * *
“Oh, you’re back early,” Karen said as we walked into the office.
“Yes, we need to access some archives,” Jack said. “They’re all electronic now, aren’t they?”
“Sure,” Karen said, quickly typing something into her keyboard. She turned the screen around, showing banks of data files all sorted by year. “Even photographs have been uploaded.”
Jack clapped his hands together. “Excellent. That will save us about a decade.” Then he stood back, making a point of looking at me. “Lawson here needs access. We’ll be in my office. Could you please bring me the geotechnical reports we have on hand?”
“Sure,” Karen said brightly. She gave Rosemary a pat with an odd kissy noise and spoke to her in a baby voice before disappearing down a hall.
Jack led the way into his office. “This way.” He sat behind his desk and brought his computer to life. “Hey, Robert?” he called out.
“Yes?” came a voice, I assumed Robert’s. A moment later, a short, middle-aged guy appeared in the door. “What’s up?”
“Can you remember off the top of your head what type of soil is predominant in the North Scottsdale Forest Reserve?”
Robert thought for a moment. “I think it’s basalt, but I’d have to double-check. We ran that core sample last year, remember?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s what got me thinking.” Then he looked at me. “What type of soil did you say the meat ants like?”
“Typically clay or clayey soil.”
And for the rest of the afternoon, we cross-referenced years of ecosystem data with photographs, soil reports, and rainfall data. Jack and I sat side by side and worked perfectly together. We almost had a conclusion down when there was a soft knock at the door.
Karen stood there smiling fondly at Jack. He cleared his throat and a light blush covered his cheeks. “Yes?” he asked.
“It’s five o’clock,” she said. “You two staying or calling it a day?”
“We’re almost done here,” I said.
Jack nodded. “We’ll close up. Thank you, Karen.” She waved us off, and she and Robert left, and the office was quiet. Jack tidied the piles of paper in front of us. “Wanna call it a day?”
“Yeah. I think we’ve got enough to know where to start tomorrow.”
“Dinner at my place?”
“I don’t want to keep relying on you to feed me,” I said. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to impress me with dates.”
“I promise there will be nothing fancy about dinner tonight.”
“But I’ll still be impressed? It is Date Number Five, I believe.”
Jack laughed warmly. “I think so, yes.”
We packed up our work and closed and locked the office. Instead of saying goodbye, I said, “See you at your place in half an hour.”
* * *
A quick shower later, I was dressed for a casual dinner, and I was fairly sure how this night would end. I packed a bag of toiletries and supplies and some clean clothes for tomorrow I could leave in the car if needed. I called into the store on my way and bought some locally mulled honey cider, some local cheeses, apples, and crackers, and at the checkout there was a stand of small posies. They weren’t anything fancy, probably lame by most standards, but I picked a yellow collection of daisies, and added them to my purchases.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up at the front of Jack’s place. Leaving my overnight bag and clothes in the car—in case it didn’t work out as planned—I grabbed my bag from the store and made my way up his porch steps.
He must have heard me pull up. “Door’s open,” he called out.
Rosemary met me with a wagging tail and toothy smile, and I found Jack in the kitchen. He wore old jeans and a faded T-shirt, bare feet, and he looked incredible. He was putting something into a basket.
“I bought these,” I said, putting my purchases on his kitchen counter. Then I held out the flowers. “These are for you. You’ve given me a selection of flowers, so it was only right that I return the gesture.”
“Thank you,” he said, planting a soft kiss on my lips. He took the flowers with a heart-stopping smile and rummaged through a cupboard until he found what he was looking for. An old jam jar became a vase. He added some water and placed them on his kitchen windowsill. He looked particularly pleased.
I took the items I’d bought from the bag and showed him the cider, and he read the label of the cheese. “So perfect.” He grabbed two glasses from a cabinet, a knife from the drawer, picked up the basket, and nodded toward the back door. “This way.”
I’d never seen his backyard, so I followed him keenly. His yard was huge; a green field of mowed grass was like a shoreline to a rolling paddock of woodlands. There were shrubs and flowers and a clothesline in the corner with some tea towels swaying in the breeze, but that wasn’t what captured my attention.
In the middle of his lawn, he’d laid a blanket, some cushions, and pillows. Jack put the basket he was carrying on the blanket and turned to me and waved his hand at the picnic. “Your dining table tonight.”
I was certain I was grinning like a crazy man. I put my hand to my heart, feeling the tempo through my shirt. “This actually couldn’t be more lovely.”
He sat his huge frame down on the blanket and spread his long legs out, leaning back on his elbow. He patted the space beside him. “I believe you fit here.”
I joined him on the blanket and took his face roughly in my hands. I planted a hard kiss on his lips. “I believe I do.”
He opened the basket and took out a container of small sandwich triangles. “Hungry?”
I chuckled. “I haven’t eaten sandwiches cut like this since I was at primary school.”
Jack grinned and held one perfect white triangle out to me. “Vegemite? Or peanut butter?”
“Either is fine.”
Rosemary came sniffing over and Jack roused on her. “She’ll steal the peanut butter ones if you’re not careful.”
I patted the blanket between us and called her over. “Lie down,” I said, and she did. I gave her a scratch under the ear, and Jack was staring at me, smiling.
He bit into his sandwich. “Are you here for me or my dog?”
“Both. And we shouldn’t exclude her. I don’t want her to think I’m the reason she’s not getting one hundred per cent of your attention.”
He ruffled the hair on the top of Rosemary’s head, then he leaned in and gave me a peanut buttery kiss. He didn’t say anything, just smiled serenely as he lay back down. He shoved a cushion under his head and ate another sandwich triangle. “So, how is this date stacking up so far?”
I looked around as evening settled over the countryside. The sun was behind the house, the sky was a palette of blues and oranges, the air was cooling down what had been a warm summer day. “It’s kind of perfect.”
He sighed happily. “Glad you like it.”
Just then a common white butterfly flitted along the breeze near us. “Ooh,” Jack said. “What kind of butterfly is that?”
“A Pieris rapae. Or a white cabbage butterfly.”
“Is there anything you don’t know about butterflies?”
I considered his question. “I think there are always things we don’t know. But about the recognised species already discovered, I know all there is to know. Though I’d hate to think we’ve learned all we can.”
He smiled up at the sky as though my answer truly pleased him, and he absentmindedly played with Rosemary’s fur.
I poured us two glasses of the honey cider, and Jack took one gratefully. Then I sliced the apple and cheese, opened the crackers, and fed him alternate mouthfuls. I liked taking care of him. He had, after all, provided four dates where he’d cooked for me, so it was the least I could do.
When we’d eaten enough of our picnic and the bottle of cider was almost gone, we discussed things such as biodiversity right down to music and movies. The sky was almost darkened through by then, but the backlight of the house cast enough light so we could still see.
Rosemary had wandered off after all the cheese was gone, and I lay down with my head in the crook of Jack’s arm. We watched the sky become night, and the cider had given me a pleasant buzz.
Jack seemed content to just lay there, but I wanted more. I had come here with the intention of letting him take me to bed, but he seemed equally content to just lay under the stars with me in his arms. And it was perfect, but the urge, the desire in my blood wouldn’t let me not try…
I turned in his arms and slid on top of him. I let my legs fall on the outside of his, and I leaned on one arm, my face just an inch or two from his.
His smile was surprised and warm. “Oh. Hello.”
“I’m testing a theory.”
