|
This
is a work of fiction, loosely based on the real person, Russell Crowe. No
insult or injury is intended, this story is for entertainment purposes only. This
story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual
situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any
"discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these
situations.
Remission by:
©
11/2004 Chapter
2 All week Mari has been restless.
Why did she accept his invitation? So
easy to decline. Normally she's very good at declining, had a lifetime of
practice. So what, if it would have been offensive? They're not friends, she
doesn't owe him anything, not even an explanation. Making new friends is the
last thing on her mind. She just wants her own space and some peace and quiet.
So why didn't she just say no? Because
you want to see him again. Because you like him, with his
gorgeous ocean-green eyes, daring you, looking at you as if you were
beautiful and sexy. Because his voice triggered something
you have been denying for years. The
voice in her head torments her. Persistent. Relentless. Violently she dips her brush in
some paint and lashes out. Red anger dripping all over her canvas. Oh, for Christ sake! It's just a barbecue. The whole fucking county will
probably be there. He was just being polite. Well, his mom was. So you will go
and be nice. You will smile at their jokes, eat their food, drink their booze
and enjoy yourself. She looks at her painting. The
red isn't too bad. It's sort of in the right place. Almost intentional. Just let
it be for now. Mari decides to call it a day, cleans her brushes and covers her
paint with damp cloths. She has been at it since early morning and it's almost
evening now. Working well here. Her studio, her whole house, breathes just the
right atmosphere. And the peace.... Nobody calling out to her,
demanding her attention, her time. Insisting to know what's on her mind,
desiring explanation.... In the kitchen she takes a
bottle of dry white out of the fridge, pours a glass and walks into the living
room, taking both glass and bottle with her. Searches through her CD's, finds
what she looking for and places it in the player. The first chords of Bach's
Violin Concerto In D Minor fill the room. She walks through the patio doors and
sits down on the veranda. It's a perfect spot to enjoy the last rays of sunshine
of the day, sipping her wine and closing her eyes. Bliss... ~*~ It's Saturday close to six. Mari
gets out of her Range Rover. Another dream come true. She always wanted a big
car like this. Didn't make much sense in the city. Makes sense now. Music and laughter is coming
from the back of the house. The whole backyard is filled with people, tables
everywhere. They've put up a big marquee and on the stage a band is playing. She
lingers, ill at ease. A short, dark haired woman comes toward her. Nice,
welcoming face. "Hi there, you must be Mari. I'm Jocelyn Crowe. Welcome.
I'm so happy you made it. Come, let me introduce you to some people." Mari shakes hands, smiles at
their friendly faces. They are
blatantly curious, asking her all sorts of questions. Yes, she is happy to be
here. Yeah, the farm is a dream, she is settling in nicely. Yes, she will let
them know if she needs anything. Some faces are familiar. Local shopkeepers,
tradesmen, the builders. She was right. The whole fucking county is present.
They get her a champagne cocktail. She wishes it was a beer, wishes she had some
fags. She could use some. The moment Mari sees him, she
knows she's been looking out for him. Black shirt and jeans. Drop-dead-gorgeous.
He's grinning at her, coming her way. "Hi, luv, you're here. Good. I want
you to meet some mates of mine." He leads her to a group of people. His
Band. She knew he had a band. Grunts something. Garth, Dave and Dave, Stewie,
Billy-Dean and Mark. They are nice to her, in a loud and funny and 'fucking
around a lot' sort of way. Apparently bastard is a term of endearment and they
are very physical, punching each other a lot. They make her laugh. Russell is
enjoying himself too. Obviously they are very close friends. He is looking at her. She feels
his eyes burning on her face, on her body. Making her very self-conscious. She
is wearing her favorite faded jeans, with a tight white top and loose light blue
shirt, the front pulled up in a knot. Her long hair shining, softly curling
around her face. Her skin has a nice tan, looking natural and healthy, not
needing any make-up, just a touch of mascara and some lip gloss.
He comes to her, places one hand in the hollow of her back and leads her
away toward the barbecue and buffet. "Wanna grab a bite?". The heat of
his hand making her feel warm all over. She chooses prawns and a salad.
He goes for the chicken. He finds them a free table and gets a bottle of chilled
dry white and two glasses. "Some peace and quiet at last. How do you like
it so far?" "I'm having a great
time." It's the truth, but she's also extremely on edge, too aware of him.
"I like your friends. Are they always that rowdy?" He giggles.
"Yeah, pretty much. Harmless though." They eat in silence. The prawns
are the best Mari has ever had. The wine is good too. She has to take care not
to drink too much. She's already a little lightheaded and she needs all her
senses tonight. After they finish Russell offers her a cigarette. "Do you
smoke?" "I used to. Stopped about
six months ago. But I haven't kicked the habit. I would love one right
now." He takes two from the pack, lights them and gives her one. She
inhales deeply. The smoke burning in her lungs, calming her. He's watching her.
"So....tell me. How does a girl that knows nothing about farming, who never
even had a real garden before, comes to settle out here?" "I came into some money and
followed my dream. I have always wanted a house of my own preferably with some
private space. I've always wanted to move to a country with a warm climate. And
ever since my parents told me about their plans to migrate to Australia when
they where first married, I have been interested in this country. They never did
go, but the idea seemed daring and romantic and I was sorry that they didn't. So
when the opportunity arose, I went searching for a property and found the farm.
It was love at first sight." "Where did you move
from?" "From the Netherlands.
Well, that's where I was born and lived most of my life. But I left the country
over two years ago." He's clearly surprised. "The Netherlands? Really?
Could have fooled me. You don't have an accent." She can't resist. "As you
do, you mean." "Cheeky, cheeky."
Smiling at her. "What did you do in those two years?" "Traveled. Followed the
sun. Painted. I went to Southern Europe at first. But that wasn't far away
enough. After that Turkey and finally Thailand. I stayed there for over a
year." "Sounds like you were
running from something." Mari isn't going to answer that.
Too close for comfort. She's saved by Mark, looking for Russell, the band is
waiting for him. They need him on stage. She can barely hide her relief. He
notices it. Whispers in her ear: "Don't think you got away with that, we'll
talk some more later." And is off with Mark. She follows them to the stage
and mingles with the crowd. They are great. They really
rock. She's never heard their music before and loves it. Billy-Dean plays one
mean guitar. They have so much fun playing with each other, it's catching.
Energizing. And Russell is just amazing. He's at home, totally in control, born
for the stage. Playing the crowd, teasing them with obvious pleasure. His voice
sends vibrations up her spine. She dances, jumps and screams with the crowd.
Loving every minute of it. It's over way too soon. The crowd dissolves. People
returning to their tables. Mari wanders around a bit and ends up at the bar. She
talks to a lot of people. Russell's parents, his brother and niece, newly-met
neighbors. Then he's back at her side again. He's taken a quick shower, put on a
fresh shirt. "Wanna dance?". He doesn't wait for her answer but leads
her to the dance floor. She's too aware of his nice smell, of his arms around
her. His voice in her ear. "Relax, luv. Just let the music take you."
He's a great dancer. She closes her eyes and lets him lead her away. Off this
earth. It feels like surrender. When the music stops he keeps
holding her. She looks up at him, feeling warm and flushed. His face is close,
too close. She steps back. Clears her throat. "Umm... I'm thirsty, let's
get something to drink." He is laughing at her. She can see in his eyes
that he's reading her mind. "Sure, I'm in no hurry." Arrogant bastard. "What would you like? Wine or beer?" She
prefers beer. They sit down on a bench under a big Eucalyptus. "So... tell me, Mari. What
were you running away from?" "Everything, nothing. Don't
we all want to run away from something at some point?". She's evading a
straight answer. Uneasy now. He senses her mood swing. "Too right."
He's changing the subject. "You're a painter? How did that happen?" She
relaxes. Back on safe ground. "When I was a kid I wanted to work for
Disney. Making cartoons. I always knew that I wanted to do something that
involves drawing and painting. I always had a talent for it. So after high
school I went to the Academy of Arts." "Cool! What do you
paint?" "Mostly abstracts. When I
was younger my work was more figurative. I painted people a lot. But I lost
interest in that. I have been experimenting with different styles, different
media. Finding my own way, you know? I needed to discover the right way to
express myself. I think I found it now. Searching for new shapes, alternative
ways to communicate ... it's so much more exciting, rewarding. How a painting
ends up is a surprise. I surprise myself all the time. Not that I have the
illusion that people will grasp what I'm saying, but still...." "I think they will. I've
only seen the one painting, but I could tell that you were very happy when you
created it, right?" He is
right. She is suddenly overwhelmed. That he has sensed that.... It seems
important to her beyond proportion. She looks away, sipping her beer. She needs
a smoke. "Can I have another fag?" He lights two. She inhales
deeply. What was she thinking, giving up smoking? "So, after the Academy,
what did you do? Was it possible to make a living off your art?" "No. I got married." O
Fuck! Why did she have to say that! That surprises him. "You're
married?" Eyebrow raised. "Not any more. He
died." "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to ... " "Don't be, I'm not. It
wasn't what you would call a happy marriage." She really, really doesn't want
to to talk about this, drowns her beer and gets up. "Let's get another drink. I
need something stronger." They walk to the bar. She orders
a Scotch and empties the glass in one big gulp. "Hey, hey, take it easy,
luv. You'll be off your face if you keep that up. Come, let's dance some
more." He takes her by the arm and
leads her back to the floor. The band is playing romantic tunes. Lots of couples
dancing. He holds her in a gentle slow-dance manner, not swirling around too
much. She's grateful for that. Her head is swimming, very aware of his hands
slowly stroking her back. He pulls her a little closer, his hips against hers,
moving against her. She raises her face to him. He kisses her. First slowly and
softly, sucking in her upper lip, moves down to her lower lip. Then demanding,
taking her whole mouth, hard and pressing. Needing. She falls. Falls deep. Nothing
else exists. Just his warm body against hers. His hot mouth on hers. Her brain protests. No. NO! Her body struggling now. She breaks free. Panting hard. Calm
down. Breathe! "No. I'm sorry. No. I can't do this." She turns away from him. Has to get out of here. Hears his voice following her. "Running again, Mari?" She is. Away from him. Away from herself. Running like hell.
Chapter Three or Index for Remission
Return to Real Russell
Return to Main Page
WANT TO POST FEEDBACK? VISIT THE ROUGH MAGIC
FEEDBACK MESSAGE BOARD!
|
