The young men will be ... uh ... window shopping. Tomorrow night will be selection time and once it begins, you four should get to the tents. You're included, Louis, there might be a widow on the prowl." That would get my folks!" Anyway, you two, out of the t-shirts and button up. Then we'll go to the feast."I could already hear a didgeridoo. It must be a small one, as it was high-pitched. A moment or so later a lower drone added in. And I could hear some bilma [clapsticks], too."Hear them warming up," I said when the two students re-emerged. The graduate student had been wearing a bush shirt."Oooh, I'd love to try to play one!" Not bloody likely," Louis exclaimed. He had just put on a jacket."Why not?" I read that these folks believe there are consequences for women who play a didgeridoo, including infertility. I wouldn't let my daughter touch one, if I had a daughter," he said. "I reckon it's the equivalent of encouraging someone to play with razor blades." Good marks for you on. Her hands were feeling my bottom cheeks, lifting the hem of my dress. The sounds of the toilet flushing and the bathroom door opening brought me back to reality. I tried to spring back, away from Michelle, to pretend nothing was happening. She held me firm. I don’t think I could have broken her grip if I’d wanted too. And I didn’t want to. ‘It’s all right.’ Michelle said, running her fingers down the side of my face. ‘It’s all right. Relax. Tammy’s my friend. Aren’t you Tammy?’ ‘I am.’ Tammy replied, standing next to Michelle and running her fingers down the side of my face. ‘Tammy knows.’ Michelle said, kissing me and returning her hands to pulling up the hem of my dress. ‘Everything?’ I gasped as a hand, then a second and then a third slid inside the rear of my knickers. ‘Everything.’ Michelle confirmed. I thought about the telephone handset she’d had in her office at the health centre she used to run. Fingers, gentle fingers, were running down my spine, taking the zip of my dress.
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