By All Accounts

"Lamb chops," Greta said, and she went on, "I think so, I suppose I must be doing alright."

"You suppose! Don't you know?"

"Well, it's a matter of time, I get bank statements sometimes and I pay my bills."

"Haven't you got an accountant?"

"No, do I need one?"

"Greta!" I exclaimed, "You're running a business, of course you need an accountant."

"I try to do my own accounts."

I think I must have gone pale. "What about taxation?"

"Ah, yes, I've been having trouble over that. I don't think they believe I'm cheating, but I just don't seem to be able to fill in all those forms properly."

A light from heaven seemed to shine down upon me.

"Greta, I'm supposed to be on a working holiday, specifically working for you. Your service station is self-serve, you've got that girl Daisy taking the money, so you don't need me for that. I know nothing about engine timing or replacing gaskets, but I do know something about accounting. To be honest I took a look in your office this afternoon, and...well, do I need to way more?... this steak is good, how are your chops?

"Fine...yes I know what a mess it is."

"I'm not qualified, but I know enough to straighten out books and I can use a computer, I could get things in order for you and then you'd be surprised at how much easier it will be."

God, I was sounding like my father!

"Could you...could you really? I'd be so grateful."

It was almost embarrassing to hear Greta, whom I'd always seen as so tough and self-reliant, be so pathetically grateful for what I saw as such a relatively simple job. After all, it wasn't some great big conglomerate I would be dealing with.

I wondered what the expensive private school had taught her, and concluded not much apart from a posh accent.

This started to give me a different view of her.

When on our feet we stood eye to eye, and although I thought she could still get me in a headlock, for once I felt as if I had something to give her she didn't have. Mind you, if my car went wrong she would be far ahead of me when it came to fixing it.

What a strange girl...woman she was.

We hived of to collect the takings and for me to meet the unprepossessing Arthur.

* * * * * * * *

A simple job! It took me days to get her mess sorted out. Bills, accounts, money outstanding, bad debts and tax man's queries, and everything all over the place; I found documents dropped behind the sofa, bills down the back of armchairs, and even some receipts on a ledge in the toilet.

I toiled away, setting up things on the computer, and saw little of Greta as she rushed out in the dawn and came home at sundown, or later, in her greasy jeans and shirt.

The washing was piled up in the washing machine and was littered on the laundry floor, so I set the machine going and I had to call in takeaway meals just to cope. I was accountant and house keeper combined.

At last I had things in order, and to my amazement found that Greta was making a sizeable profit.

In one of the interludes when she had ten minutes to spare I said, "You know Greta, with the sort of money you're making you could employ at least two other people; if you don't you'll kill yourself."

She squared her not exactly slight shoulders and said, "I can manage."

"Can you," I asked. "What about that girl Daisy, do you think she's value for money? She treats your customers as if they're a bloody nuisance. I don't know about Arthur, but I feel that he sees you as a bit of extra pocket money when it suits him."

Greta seemed to be a bit flustered when I mentioned Arthur, and she mumbled something like, "He's in love with me."

"Ah, another engagement in the wings," I thought, "he's probably not worthy of her; but who would be worthy of this formidable women, even though she couldn't keep her financial affairs and house in order?"

"Is he a good mechanic?" I asked.

Greta laughed, "A good mechanic! He wouldn't even know how to change a spare wheel. He just keeps an eye on things when Daisy goes off and I need an evening to myself."

I could see that this was a job for Super Ster.

"Greta, you've got to get things in order, you can't go on like this. You're the only service station in town and there's interstate business passing your doorstep every day. You've got to take on more and good staff. You need a mechanic to relieve you and someone at the desk who looks like she or he welcomes customers. I promise you you've got the money."

"Have I, but where would I get good mechanic? And I couldn't sack Daisy and Arthur."

"Why not?"

"Well, there are not many jobs in this town and Daisy needs her job and Arthur..."

"Is in love with you; yes you told me. Are you in love with him?"

"Don't be silly Ster," she said, "Just look at him, he's nearly sixty and I need...never mind what I need, I couldn't just fire him."

"All right, do you want me to shake them up?"

"Shake them up, what do you mean?"

"Tell them to shape up or ship out."

"I don't know."

"Look Greta, you've got a terrific opportunity staring you in the face. There are trucks roaring past this town every night that are thirsting for a drink of diesel and they're going on to Kicking Horse Valley to get it."

"You mean, open all night?"

"Why not?"

"I couldn't, Ster. Can't you see how exhausted I am already?"

"Yes, and that's what I'm talking about. Father's got a lot of good contacts, and there are plenty of people who want to move out of the city. If you agree, I'll find you a good mechanic to start with, and if the locals can't give you what you need, I'll get you good reliable staff as well."

"I don't l know, Ster, can I afford it?"

"I've told you, yes, you can afford it and more, I've got the books straightened out."

"How about the tax man?"

"You'll have to take on a real accountant for that. Do you want me to contact dad?"

"Yes, I suppose so," she said doubtfully. "By the way, I haven't paid you yet; how much do you think?"

"That's an embarrassing question," I replied. "Can't you tell me what I'm worth?"

"The way you're going Ster I'd need a fortune to pay you what you're worth right now."

"All right," I replied, "Let's say three hundred a week and my keep."

"Done," she replied cheerfully, "got to go now, got a gearbox to fix."

Having got her accounts in order and the computer earning its keep, I set about getting the domestic scene in order. I even started to do a bit of cooking – mother had trained me well – and I told Greta I'd have meals ready when she got home, so not to buy any takeaways. I was actually enjoying myself much to my amazement.

* * * * * * * *

I was about two thirds of the way through my stay when I took on another task. I hadn't been near the service station very much, but when I had I'd noticed the mess in the garage. Tools lay where they had been dropped and the place looked as if it had never been swept.

I set up peg boards to hold the tools, cleaned up grease and oil, and in fact gave the place a good going over.

My father had swung into action and telephoned to say that a mechanic called Bill Rintell was coming to Wild Goat Plain to see Greta about a job. "A top class mechanic," my father assured me, "so he'll be looking for a bit more than the basic rate for a mechanic."

Bill, who looked to be in his early fifties, had those clear and penetrating blue eyes that a lot of skilled men seemed to have.

He looked around the work area and commented, "Got a fairly good set up here." I didn't tell him what it had been like. I didn't intervene when it came to hiring him; after all, Greta was the boss.

He mentioned that his wife would be looking for work as well. Greta asked him what sort of work she had done and he said she'd worked in a supermarket. Greta said nothing at the time. She had something in mind but wanted to see Mrs. Bill first.

On the whole things seemed to be going very smoothly and Greta actually began to get a bit more free time, and we saw more of each other.

It's strange how your opinion of someone can change over time. When we were children I used to dread the arrival of Greta on a visit, and being told to go outside and play with her. I had been opposed to the idea of spending this time with her, but was now glad I'd come.

Greta could never be described as pretty; I think I used the word handsome to describe her. I began to see why those three guys had got engaged to her, but was puzzled why it had never come to marriage; surely she could have scored one out of the three especially as in her particular way she was rather sexy.

Now that was something I'd never thought her to be, sexy. It was one particular occasion that jolted me into seeing her like that. It was a stinking hot and humid night and Greta had got one of her evenings off.

There was no air conditioning in the house and we were lounging around trying to keep cool with an electric fan. Greta was more exposed than I'd ever seen her before. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a sort of loose halter top. Her legs were magnificent – so long they seemed to go on for ever – and clearly she was wearing no bras because I could see the seductive movement of her breasts.

We had engaged in very little personal conversation thus far since we had both been so busy talking about getting things organised. It therefore took me a little by surprise when she said, "You must be missing your girlfriend."

"What?"

"Your girlfriend, you must have one, a good looking guy like you."

"Not at the moment," I said.

Since she had asked a personal question I felt free to ask one of her.

"Greta, you've been engaged three times, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"But it never led to marriage."

She looked a bit uncomfortable I thought, but she said, "And you want to know why."

"I suppose it's nothing to do with me, but it is curious."

"It's like this Ster, when I've got a man I expect him to behave like a man."

"How's that?"

Greta seemed to jump over a few hurdles and said, "If he can't keep you contented before you get married, what chance is there going to be afterwards?"

"You mean..."

"All right Ster, I might not look very sexy, but I'm a woman and I've got a woman's needs."

"But you do look sexy Greta," I protested.

"Maybe, but...all right, I'll tell you; a couple of times a week is no good to me, I need more like a couple of times a night. All three of them said I was wearing them out, so what was the use. If that makes me an oversexed slut, then so be it, but that's what I need. Can you understand that?"

I certainly could understand her since I had a similar problem in reverse. I'd had quite a few girlfriends and they had all ended in much the same way; they complained that I made them sore and I was too demanding. In addition to what they thought was my over enthusiasm for sex, I've got...now I'm not boasting, and I'm only going on what the girls have said; they told me I was too big and it hurt them.

Thus I was able to assure Greta that I certainly could understand her dilemma. I was beginning to wonder if there was something in the family gene pool that caused one to be oversexed. Greta's mother was my mother's sister and I couldn't imagine either my mother or my aunt being voracious man eaters, but I suppose you can never be sure about that.

Having got onto the subject Greta continued saying, "If I can't have a man who can service me properly I'd rather do without, if you know what I mean."

I knew what she meant and told her so, although I found the doing without more difficult that she apparently did. With the self-relief I'd been engaging in it was just as well I'd been doing the washing and changing the linen on my bed.

"If you haven't got a current girlfriend," she said, "it's a wonder that you haven't picked someone up around here."

"Greta," I laughed, "what time have I had to pick anyone up?"

"That's true, you really have been hard at it, and I'm very grateful."

* * * * * * * *

She changed the subject and said, "By the way, I'm taking Bill on, he's got magnificent references and I'm paying him twenty percent over the top, do you think that's enough?"

The accountant part of my brain sprang into action.

"Well," I said cautiously, "perhaps you've offered too much. You might have made it ten percent and then raised it to twenty after you've seen how he performs."

"I've told him twenty now, so I've got to stick by my word. His wife is coming in to see me tomorrow; I thought I could use her in the shop."

"Instead of Daisy?"

"No, she's picked up a bit since you had that chat with her, and so has Arthur. You never told me what you said to them."

"Oh, I just mentioned to Daisy that jobs seem to be rather hard to get around here, so it always pays to keep the boss and the customers happy. And to Arthur I said that it seemed to me that there'd be a lot of guys around here who would be looking for a bit of part time work."

"I also told them that since I'd got the accounting side of things straightened out, there would be accurate and regular stock taking in future."

"You didn't accuse them of stealing?"

"No, I just let them know that things were different now, just in case."

She changed the subject again.

Laughing she said, "You know Ster, you've really surprised me. When I heard you were coming I expected...expected you to look different."

"Different?"

"Well...I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you were a rather weedy little boy, and when I heard you were studying accountancy...well you know how people visualise accountants, even when it's not true."

"Yes, I know, fat, bald and paunchy or thin and scrawny."

"So how did you turn from a scrawny kid into...into...well...what you are now?"

Not being sure what she thought I was now, I answered cautiously.

"I suppose nature or genes or something is involved, but I go to the gym regularly."

"And you're so different...I mean, do you remember how I used to push you around when we were children?"

"Yes Greta, I remember vividly, I think I still have some of the scars."

"But you're not a bit like that now. You've been pushing me around instead of..."

"I have not been pushing you around," I protested. "All I've done is straighten things out for you. You wanted me to...didn't you? And I haven't tried to repair any cars, have I."

"No, but you might have got around to it eventually, but you'll be gone in a couple of weeks, and what am I supposed to do then, I don't know about bookkeeping and computers."

"Then I'll have to teach you before I leave, and anyway, you'll have to get an accountant. I'll get in touch with father, he knows just about everybody in the business and he'll know which one is the best here."

There's only two in town," she said.

* * * * * * * *

There was another change in the direction of the conversation. In that respect she was entirely unpredictable which might have accounted for the chaos of her environment.

"You didn't like me when we were children, did you?"

"Frankly Greta, no, I didn't. I used to dread those visits because I knew I'd get beaten up; those headlocks and half-nelsons..."

"I don't use them now," she chuckled. "You didn't really want to come here, did you?"

"How do you know that?"

"I suppose by the way your mother asked me if I'd have you. She seemed to imply that there was some blackmail involved to get you to agree. I very nearly said no, but then curiosity got the better of me; I wanted to see what you were like, how you'd grown up."

She paused for a moment, looking shy insofar as she was capable of looking shy, and asked, "Do you like me now?"

That one nearly bowled me out. Not that I couldn't answer her question, but the fact that she'd asked it.

Recovering slightly I replied, "Yes Greta, I like you very much, you're messy, you don't look after yourself properly and you're always in a rush, but yes, I do like you and I'll go on liking you just so long as you don't practice your martial arts on me."

"There's something I have to tell you Ster, and if I don't say it now I never will."

I felt something like cold fingers run up my spine. What was she going to say, what wart in my personality, what physical flaw was she going to point to?

"You better say it and get it over with," I said.

It came out in a rush, "I love you Ster."

"What!"

Her face was pink with embarrassment and I could see her hands shaking, and Greta wasn't the trembling type.

"Even when we were children and you were so scrawny I think I loved you, that's what all the rough stuff was about I suppose. I didn't know what else to do; it was a way of touching you..."

I couldn't resist an interruption, "Thank God you didn't hate me, there's no knowing what you'd have done. Why the hell did you love a scrawny kid?"

She seemed relieved that I hadn't fainted away at her declaration of love like some nineteenth century maiden. She laughed and said, "If I'd hated you I would have ignored you. I wouldn't have considered it worthwhile to beat you up."

It occurred to me that the three fiancés might have been victims of her love and that was why the engagements had been broken off, but she'd given another reason for their termination, and a rather intriguing one as far as I was concerned.

She suddenly brightened up and said, "If everything goes as I've planned we'll have more time together. Would you like that?"

How oddly uncertain of herself she seemed. I said, "Yes, I'd like that very much, but I'm not here for much longer."

"Perhaps you'll come here another time, just to see that I'm not getting into a mess again."

She rose and stretching, said, "Time for bed."

The stretching elevated her impressive bust. I felt a tingling sensation in my groin and my penis started to harden. It is strange that she hadn't aroused me before this; perhaps some sort of defence mechanism – knowing we were cousins and nothing could ever come of a sexual relationship with her I had not seen her as a sexual possibility, despite being seriously deprived in that respect.

She came towards me saying, "You've been so kind Ster, and I've never thanked you properly."

She put her arms round my neck (not in a headlock), pulled her body close to mine and kissed me.

"I'd like to show you how grateful I am," she said in a soft seductive voice, and then kissed me again, deep and hungrily.

If there ever had been a defence mechanism it now collapsed in ruins.

"You've said you like me; I don't ask you to love me; just let me show you how much I love you."

I felt her loosening the top of my shorts and then her hand was grasping my penis.

I heard her gasp, "My God, what have you got there, you're...you're hu...so big!"

"Perhaps you'd rather not..."

"No...no...I mean yes...I want you...if I'd known before I would have...oh Ster I do love you."

I had my hand up under her halter top cupping one of her breasts. I think that the size of her breasts was a sort of counterpart to my penis.

She was pulling down her own shorts and then she impaled herself on my shaft. We were almost the same height and standing we fitted together excellently. As I penetrated her there was a powerful sucking sensation such as I had never experienced before. It was as if she would suck all of me inside her.

"It's wonderful...wonderful...come in me...let me feel you come...I want it..."

She started to jerk herself frantically over my length, crying out, "I want you...I need you...I want you...I need you...oh my darling...darling...I'm going to...oha...ah...oh my God it's...oh Ster...aaaah..."

I had no hope of holding back my orgasm and my sperm slammed into her, dragging more cries and sobs from her.

"Don't leave me...don't leave me...I love you..."

When I had finished she continued to hold me in her by the sheer grasp of her vaginal muscle as she continued in the grip of her orgasm. As her after-shocks began to diminish she used that muscle to spasmodically grip and release my penis.