Pagan

Too reticent to comment on her appearance, it was Pagan who broached the subject when she said, "You've grown up very satisfactorily Richard. You were quite a plump little boy and I always thought you'd grow up to be fat."

"Gym," he replied briefly.

"What?"

"Gym, that's what I do for exercise."

"Ah, well you've obviously gymed to some good effect. Do you think I've changed much?"

Richard laughed and said, "Yes, very markedly, the last time I saw you I only came up to your chin."

Pagan laughed, "It's almost the other way round now, but do you think I've changed for the good?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Flatterer."

"No, really," Richard protested, "You look...er..."

"If its complimentary then say it, I'm really very vain and I like compliments."

"You look beautiful."

"I can see we're going to get on very well," Pagan chuckled. "Do you want me to compliment you?"

"Oh, that's not necessary, I mean..."

"Of course you want me to flatter you and one praise deserves another. You're a very sexy young man."

Richard flushed as he stammered, "Ner-no ner-not really, I'm just..."

"Well I say you are sexy Richard, so let's leave it at that. Here's your tea."

Pagan went on to explain that as they still had a couple of hours before lunch there were some deliveries she wanted to make.

"Deliveries?"

"Yes, I sell horse and sheep manure for four dollars a bag plus fifty cents for delivery."

"How many horses have you got?"

"Six, and they make a lot of manure."

Richard now knew why the truck had smelt of manure.

"Would you like to come with me," Pagan asked. "I've got three bags to deliver to old Ted and two to poor Louise."

Richard thought that he'd certainly like to come with Pagan, but not in the sense she meant.

Richard forbore to ask who Ted and Louise were, calculating that he would learn soon enough, so he said he would go with her.

"Good, I've got the stuff already bagged and you can give me a hand to load and unload; I'll have to change, I only dressed up to make a good impression on you," she said, and then added somewhat provocatively, "I thought you'd like to see something of me." She went on quickly to ask, "Have you got any working clothes?"

"No I..."

"I'll find something for you," Pagan said, obviously not prepared to let Richard get out of working. "I'll be back in a minute."

She left to return a few minutes later wearing a pair of bib and brace overalls and a T-shirt and with her long hair now tied back. She carried another pair of overalls.

"They might not fit very well but they'll do," she announced, adding, "you might as well stay in them while you're here, it's all you'll need."

That sounded ominous to Richard, suggesting that this was to be a working holiday.

He went to his room, stripped down to his underpants, found his oldest T-shirt and donned it and the overalls. Pagan was only a few centimeters shorter than Richard, and the overalls, with a bit of adjusting, fitted reasonably well, although he decided he didn't look as sexy in them as Pagan did in hers.

Loading "the stuff" meant hoisting large bags of smelly horse and sheep droppings on to the back of the truck.

Before their departure Richard was introduced to Loki the goat. Loki was tethered to a stake by a long length of rope. His purpose seemed to be keeping down the grass and weeds close to the house, and this was achieved by regularly moving the stake so that Loki ate a fresh circle.

An attempt by Richard to befriend Loki was strongly rejected by means of a head butt that left a bruise on Richard's thigh.

Sif continued to haunt Richard, and as he got into the truck she howled pathetically.

"She wants to come with you," Pagan informed him, "just pat your knee and she'll jump up."

Richard patted and Sif jumped, landing heavily across his knees where after some squirming she finally settled down. The truck roared up the drive and came to a jarring stop at the gate.

Sif had to be passed over to Pagan while Richard opened and closed the gate. The truck lurched through; Richard closed the gate and got back in the truck, to be instantly leapt upon by Sif.

Pagan seemed to treat the truck like a formula one racing car, hurtling it along at full throttle. Richard now found Sif's presence a comfort since hugging her seemed to help him deal with the terror inspired by Pagan's driving.

As they went along Pagan gaily regaled Richard with thumbnail verbal sketches of the local eccentrics; she apparently did not consider herself to be eccentric.

They screamed to a halt outside Old Ted's place. This was a very neat cottage with a well tended garden. Old Ted was a morose looking elderly gent who proved to be very economical with words.

He glanced at Richard and said to Pagan, "New face?"

Pagan, who picked up his verbal economy replied, "Visitor."

"Stopping?"

"Fortnight."

For an instant something resembling a smile seemed to slither across Ted's creased face, and he said, "Nice lookin' fella, 'bout time."

"Twelve dollars plus fifty cents for delivery," Pagan announced.

Ted humphed and began to pay out in coins that he seemed to retrieve from various parts of his anatomy while it was left for Richard to unload the manure.

As they drove away Pagan commented, "He's a miserable old sod, but he grows marvelous cabbages."

For any sane driver the drive to "poor Louise's" place would have taken about ten or eleven minutes. Pagan made it in six minutes.

Louise's place was very different from Ted's. The cottage looked depressed and the garden disheartened. Louise proved to be a thin, wan looking woman who might have been anywhere between thirty five and forty five years of age. Richard thought she smelt vaguely of sweat and some other indefinable odour. She was dressed in a rather scruffy blue dress that was decorated with stars and astrological symbols.

She stared at Richard with an unsettling intensity.

"Is he a friend of yours?" she asked, as if Richard was out of earshot.

"Yes; Richard, this is Louise; Louise, Richard."

"Ooo, you are lucky Pagan," Louise breathed, while looking covetously at Richard.

Richard was flustered by Louise's somewhat hungry gaze, so he hurriedly set about unloading the last two sacks and then Pagan said, "That'll be eight dollars plus fifty cents for delivery."

"Would you mind if I pay you next time, Pagan?" Louise said in a wheedling tone of voice.

"All right Louise, next time," Pagan replied.

As they drove away Louise stood at the roadside staring after them.

"Poor Louise," Pagan said, "she owes me at least forty dollars for manure, but I don't suppose I'll ever get it."

"And you don't mind?" Richard asked.

"Not really," she replied, "after all I don't actually need the money. What I do mind is that the manure never seems to do her garden any good, unless it helps the weeds to flourish."

"She tries to make a living writing horoscopes for people and she has one in the weekly local paper; you know the sort of thing; 'This week friends may surprise you, so try not to be upset,' things like that."

"Of course she's hopeless at it. Three months ago she predicted that the guy she had living with her would lead a long life, and a week later he committed suicide."

"Probably couldn't stand her smell," Richard thought.

She's on the lookout now for another guy to take up residence with her. I suppose you noticed how she stared at you?"

"Yes."

"Mmm, she likes 'em young. The trouble is she can only get those who are as pathetic as she is and they never stay long."

"They don't all commit suicide, do they?" Richard asked.

Pagan chuckled, "No, they usually just walk out on her, most of them taking what little money she has around the place with them. You know, she falls for it time after time," Pagan added sadly.

Richard felt a pang of compassion for Louise. It seemed so cruel to rob such a hapless looking woman of what little she had.

Richard tried to swallow a lump that seemed to have lodged in his throat and changed the subject slightly, "You can't make much profit out of selling manure at the price you ask."

Pagan negotiated a sharp bend in the road at full speed before she replied. The bend passed and as Richard tried to steady his nerves, she said, "I don't really need to make a profit. I'm a bit of a Green and as long as it helps things to grow that's all right by me."

They screeched up to the gate and Sif was once more transferred to Pagan's lap while Richard opened and shut the gate.

As they went down the drive Pagan commented, "I'll get that gate fixed up with one of those electronic gadgets one day, so it won't be necessary to get out to open and close it."

Back in the kitchen, and as Richard recovered from the hair-raising drive, Pagan said, "Lunchtime; cheese, tomatoes, lettuce and cucumber be okay?"

"Er...yes," he replied cautiously. He usually had a pie of doubtful nutritional value for his lunch.

Pagan set about cutting and slicing, talking about the upcoming afternoon programme as she did so.

"We" (Richard noted the plural pronoun) "can bag some more manure. I've got a few orders, and one that asked especially for chicken poo. I want to get on and finish painting the tool shed. I like to put the horses in the stables at night to feed 'em, and it gives me a chance to groom them a bit; got to keep them looking good for the customers. After that we have the rest of the day to ourselves. Can you cook?"

"No."

"Blast, I suppose I'll have to do it then."

They settled down to eating their lunch, and in the midst of this there was an ear shattering noise followed by the revving of an engine.

"So much for rural tranquility," Richard thought.

"Jason Holmes' tractor. He's got the block next to mine. He got a notice last week from the local council saying he has to cut the grass down on his block because it's a fire hazard. A retired bank manager and his wife; nice couple, you'll probably meet them while you're here. Have you finished eating?"

"I...er...yes..."

"Good, I'll leave you to wash up while I go and get the manure bags out."

Without waiting for a response Pagan left the room. Richard rather morosely did the washing up, wondering if he'd been right to accept Pagan's invitation.

He wondered even more when they began their afternoon labours. For Richard this consisted of scooping up horse manure, which was relatively easy, and doing the same for sheep droppings, which tended to be scattered and harder to pick up.

All the time the tractor on the adjacent block kept up an incessant racket. After they filled a few bags Pagan went off to complete painting the tool shed. When Richard estimated that he'd picked up every visible piece of manure he went to her to ask what was next, hoping she'd tell him to go and relax.

She was part way through telling him to go to the stables and collect the manure there, when the tractor engine died and the driver and a woman clambered through the wire fence dividing Pagan's property from theirs, and approached.

Richard thought they were an odd looking couple. Richard judged the man to be no more than five feet two inches tall, while the woman must have been at least five feet eight.

The man looked spry and alert, while the woman, despite a mop of gray hair, looked singularly attractive. They smiled at Richard and Pagan introduced them; "My neighbors, Jason and Pat; this is my friend Richard; he's staying for a couple of weeks."

Pat twinkled at Richard and said, "It's lovely to meet you Richard; Jason and I have often thought that Pagan should have someone like you around."

"Yes, to pick up horse and sheep shit," Richard thought, but politely responded, "It's nice to meet you."

There was some talk with Pagan about shed painting, and then Pat said, "Well, we just thought we'd come across and say hello. It's so nice for Pagan to have a friend like you."

A little corner of Richard's mind registered the fact that so far Pagan had introduced him, not as, "My nephew," but as a friend.

They went off chuckling, and Pat's voice came drifting back, "They'll make a handsome couple."

Once they were out of earshot Richard commented, "An odd looking pair, but did you hear what she said?"

Pagan ignored his question and said, "Yes, that's what a lot of people say; it's the difference in height; I mean, most times the man is taller than the woman but...how old do you think they are?"

Richard considered for a few moments and then replied, "I suppose in their early fifties; he must have taken early retirement."

"Then you suppose wrongly. He's sixty seven and she's sixty three."

"My God, she doesn't look too bad for sixty three."

Pagan laughed heartily.

"What are you laughing for," Richard asked, "did I say something funny?"

"No, not really, but she once told me the secret of her looks."

"What?"

"Well, Pat and I are really good friends so she let me in on it."

"What...what is it?"

"She said it's what he gives her in bed."

"But I thought people their age didn't do it any more."

"Then you're wrong again, Richard. She says it keeps their juices flowing."

"Must be the country air that does it," Richard quipped.

Pagan looked as if she was going to make some response to that, but instead said, "Now suppose you go to the stables, there'll be plenty of manure to pick up there. I haven't got much more to do here; I'll collect the chicken poo and then we can relax. Tomorrow we might start painting the stables."

Richard trudged over to the stables to re-commence his "shit collecting."

Finishing his collecting, Pagan said it was time to stable the horses. Richard had a vision of chasing after the animals to get them into the stables, but Pagan assured him she had got them well trained.

He was instructed to pick up a bale of hay and go towards the stables. The horses, rather like the children who followed the Pied Piper of Hamlin, clopped after him. He and Pagan put hay in the mangers, and much to Richard's relief, there was no suggestion of grooming the horses.

* * * * * * * *

If Richard thought his day's work was done he was to be sadly disappointed. Back in the kitchen he was instructed to undress some potatoes and dissect some carrots while Pagan betook herself to the shower.

Richard bemoaned his fate, but after fifteen minutes, with potatoes and carrots suitably prepared for sacrifice, Pagan returned. She had changed from overalls and T-shirt to a dress, not unlike the one she had worn when meeting him, but this time it was red and instead of being suspended from one shoulder it hung from delicate fabric over both shoulders.

The dress bore some resemblance to her morning garment in that it revealed just as much of what lay beneath the gracefully twirling fabric. As she moved past him he caught the delicate fragrance of roses that had lingered in his memory since that time when, as a child, she had held him to her naked body.

Round her neck she wore a necklace of some deep yellowish stone, and in her ears earrings of pearly translucent colour.

Richard, not being familiar with jewelry, had no idea what these gems might be, but Pagan's impact on him was stunning. As his manhood began to make it self palpable again Pagan noticed his gaze fixed on her.

She smiled and asked, "Do you like it? I don't usually dress up for the evening meal, but since this is our first dinner together, I thought it would be nice.

"Ah...er...yes," Richard spluttered, "It's...its lovely

They looked at each other for a few moments, and then Pagan seemed to shake herself out of whatever she was thinking and inspected Richard's dissected vegetables.

"Yes, that'll do," she said, "you go off and have a shower while I get on with the cooking."

During the course of the afternoon Richard had grown accustomed to the smell of horse and sheep dropping, but he had not noticed that the odour now clung to him. He was however pleased to get into the shower because he needed to relieve himself of the Pagan inspired erection.

It didn't take long for his semen to begin spurting out of his urethra, to splatter against the tiled wall of the shower and then slide down in sticky strands. He felt a little more relaxed after that, but it dawned on him that for the next two weeks he was to experience that bitter-sweet atmosphere of sexual desire that could not be fulfilled.

"Why...oh why, does she have to be my aunt," he groaned inwardly.

He had brought nothing in the way of clothing that might, from a male point of view, match Pagan's finery; but then, nothing he owned and could have brought would have compared with her apparel. The best he could produce was a clean pair of jeans and a white shirt.

Returning to the kitchen he found Pagan in the last throes of cooking the meal.

"I did think we might go to the pub for a meal this evening," she said, "but then I thought it would be nice for us to be alone together for our first evening. Perhaps we can go to the pub tomorrow evening; does that sound all right?"

"Yes...yes...fine..." Richard replied distractedly, since being in Pagan's red adorned presence was causing his phallus to gear itself up again for the act of procreation.

What he ate Richard afterwards could never remember, his senses were so absorbed by Pagan's provocative presence. He even shared in the task of clearing up afterwards without really being conscious he was doing so.

* * * * * * * *

He was a sturdy lad, but he was not used to hard work, and so the labours of the day had left him somewhat weary. The meal over, and despite the ongoing demands of his testes and penis, he was ready for bed. This, however, was not to be, at least not for a while.

Pagan led him into the room she called "the lounge." This was a relatively small room, simply furnished with a divan, two armchairs and a television set that seemed to cower in the corner like an unwelcome guest at a party.

Pagan seated herself in one armchair and Richard in the other. While Richard was experiencing the tension that sexual arousal inspires, Pagan seemed to be relaxed and willing to just sit there in silence.

Richard, unused to silence and seeking a way of easing his tension, groped around in his mind for something to say.

He remembered the Freyja statues by the gate and Pagan's long ago declaration that she worshipped the goddess.

"Er...Pagan...ah...those statues by the gate..."

"Mmmm, Freyja."

"Do you still...I mean...you once said...well...you once said..."

"Yes, I still follow the goddess, if that's what you mean."

"Yes, I suppose that's what I mean, but what is she, what does she do?"

Pagan laughed lightly and said, "It's not so much what she does as what she is."

"Well, what is she?"

"She is said to be the most beautiful of the goddesses. She's the goddess of love, fertility, birth, and is very sensual. Look, this necklace I'm wearing, the stones are amber and the earrings are moonstone, her gems."

"So you try to copy Freyja?" Richard said, rather impressed.

"Yes; you remember the dress I wore at the funeral?"

"Yes, a silvery colour."

"That's right, it's one of her colours; so is green and red..."

"So that's why you wore the green this morning and...?"

"Yes, and red this evening; red is her colour symbolizing physical love. And then there's black which..."

"You've painted the house in those colours," Richard said, "so that's why."

"Yes, I try to copy her whenever I can."

"Those statues by the gate, they're pretty...er..."

"Sexy?"

"Yes."

Well she is a very sexy goddess, I mean, love, fertility, that's got to mean sex, hasn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it must. But do you mean you really believe she exists, you know, like some people still believe that God is a sort of big bearded man sitting on a golden throne somewhere in the sky."