Copyright PennameWombat October 2018
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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Ed's doubts about signing up for the day tour were rapidly evaporating as his eye caught a colourful group coming through the doors from the hotel. There were four women but his eye was drawn to the shortest, she was five-two, five-three, with short curly very light brown hair just touching the tops of her shoulders and off of her face.
She was wearing a tight and low cut light green tank top with her smallish bust aided by the finest breast engineering Victoria's Secret offered to display the most attractive cleavage he recalled seeing in some time. She had on a short skirt of the same colour. Her legs, and her arms, were toned showing regular exercise. All of the skin on display was lightly and evenly tanned showing a defter touch than his with the sun and like him she was carrying a broad-brimmed hat, not surprisingly one more stylish than his if no less functional. He still wondered how she'd go in the sun.
They approached as Ed stood under the awning that protected the hotel's tour bus access lot from the worst of the late morning sun. He assumed they'd join him on the 12-seater minibus taking them around Kangaroo Island to see the sights, a tour which lasted into the evening for a BBQ dinner and stargazing.
Then he realised that she was looking at him in a similarly appraising way when their eyes caught directly. He felt himself a bit lost when her mouth turned into a soft smile that broadened over a second, then she moved her gaze back to her friends but he was pretty sure she'd cast one last glance his way. Her companions were all an inch or three taller and reminded him of a colour wheel, one each in red, yellow, blue, two in loose flowing pantsuits and the other in a mid-calf sundress. Like him they too had on or were carrying broad-brimmed hats.
"Give me the fanny pack," said Red, the tallest, to Yellow as she handed the bag over.
"It's called a bum bag here," Ed couldn't restrain himself, "you shouldn't use fanny." The shortest one's immediate smile and twinkling eyes seemed to encourage him.
The tall woman's gaze was a bit squint-eyed, "Huh? What?"
"Yeah," Ed continued, he was pretty sure they could discern his American accent, "because fanny refers to a woman's vagina and saying that kinda implies you want to pack one."
The slightly strained smiles on the three taller women showed a bit of embarrassment. The more intense smile on the shortest made him think that this wasn't the first time this conversation had been had.
"About words," Ed heard the short and very cute one with her own American accent say as she looked at him and put her hand on the shoulder of her companion in red, "I was told my friend Kayleigh here also shouldn't say 'she roots for the team,' why not?"
Her devious smile left little crinkly lines laughing out from each twinkling eye and told Ed she knew very well what it meant. The swinging faces and slightly hunched eyebrows of her companions told him they were clueless.
"It means she plans to bestow her sexual favours on the team. The whole team." in for a dime, thought Ed, "If she wants to do that please make it South Sydney, I've become a Rabbitoh's supporter. You need to say you 'support the team' or 'barrack'."
His co-conspirator's silent laugh contrasted with the seemingly disapproving looks of the others, especially that of Kayleigh who was swinging her glare at Ed and then her friend. Ed's mood at having signed for this tour was improving by the second and while he had no particular thoughts about this Kayleigh the thought of rooting and the petite one led to an emergent pressure against the inside of his thin shorts. He wondered if it was noticeable.
At that moment a minibus pulling a trailer pulled into the car park and used the turnaround to do a one-eighty to pull alongside the small gathering, forestalling further conversation. It had "Southern Cross Tours" written along the side with the titular constellation painted on and a sandy-haired man was driving with a blonde woman in the passenger jump seat. Ed also noticed a pair of older, well-dressed men coming through the hotel door. Close-cropped greying hair, one with a trim moustache, their postures led Ed to believe they were a couple. They were dressed in lightweight slacks and shirts and like everyone they were carrying wide-brimmed hats.
The minibus door opened and the blonde woman stepped out, she was dressed in khaki shorts and had on a loose khaki short-sleeved button down shirt with a "Southern Cross Tours" logo on one breast and "Sue" on the other. She seemed somewhere in her mid or late thirties, her skin a bit sun-worn despite her precautions. The man seemed a bit older and a tad wrinkly but with friendly eyes.
"G'day everyone, I'm Sue! And that gentleman in there is my husband Ben." The latter, dressed similarly to his wife, waved at them.
"I hope you're all ready for an exciting day. We'll take good care of you. If everyone wants to step on we'll not waste time and get started, I'll tell you all about the day as we're going to lunch."
Sue had a clipboard and as everyone boarded she checked off their names. Ed stepped into the queue just behind the petite woman and as she smiled at him she offered her right hand.
"Debra," she said, "but call me Debbie."
He took her hand.
"Edward," he said, following the protocol, "call me Ed."
"I'll just call you smart-arse," she said, trying to put an Aussie lilt into her voice but not quite succeeding.
"I am that."
He watched as her three taller friends stepped aboard. He also noticed the crinkly lines and some freckles across Debbie's face contrasted with the apparent botox habit of her friends and their slightly plastic appearance, green and yellow also apparently going in for lip injections. How Debbie fit in, or better didn't, with this crew was something he hoped to find out.
He gave his name as Sue smiled at him and checked him off on her list. There was a man and a woman already aboard from another hotel, their 'good morning' with a European or German accent Ed thought. The four musketeers sat in two rows and as Ed walked past Debbie gave him a quick smile. He continued to the second last row and sat on the opposite, passenger side of the minibus where he could easily see Debbie sitting in her aisle seat. He noticed she'd pulled on a loose long-sleeved shirt, he recognised it as one of the new UV-blocking but stylish lightweight outer layers. Ah, so that was her trick to get away with the amount of flesh she was baring. Ed had a similar product on, only his was short-sleeved. He knew even with the deep tan his six months in Australia had given him he was gambling but he felt like living dangerously.
The last two, Phil and Howard and their clipped British accents, Ed heard, sat ahead of the four women, who at this point were laughing at something and Kayleigh, the woman in red had a bit of a scowl. Something about rooting Ed thought.
Ben put the minibus into gear and they started off, Sue belted into her jumpseat and turned to face her audience. She held a microphone. Ed was pretty sure she could recite the upcoming speech in her sleep, backwards, underwater.
"Welcome to Southern Cross Tours," she started, "I hope you're all ready to see our beautiful sights here on Kangaroo Island!"
She paused to a smattering of "yeah" and "let's go!" mainly from Debbie and her posse.
"Our first stop will be lunch at Dutton Wines. They'll have plenty of their wines available for tasting and your tour includes one glass and lunch, so pick well! We have a locker in the back of the bus where you can store wines and anything else you want to buy, it's chilled to keep everything nice."
