Page 39 of Love Grows

The brush, water, and spade were self-explanatory but Steph was clearly confused by the newspaper.

“Um?”

“Oh, it’s for wrapping the little pieces of iron. I can’t carry much weight on the bike and I don’t need the pieces rattling around in the panniers. So I pack them in a bit plus it keeps rust flakes out of my gear. No rust anywhere near my bike, thanks very much.” I puffed up with importance and again Steph fell about laughing.

“Come on,” I said with a grin.

* * *

It turnedout that metal detecting with Steph was a lot of fun. After I’d given her instructions on how to use the machine, she promptly waved it about like a conductor in front of an orchestra.

“Gah. Steph! That’s…” I cringed, then she stopped and smirked at me, while moving the detector in the manner I’d shown her.

“You’re a tease,” I said, pushing up on my toes to whisper in her ear.

“Oh, I know I am. Wait until we get home and I’ll show you how much.”

We grinned at each other, then suddenly the little indicator gave off a different alert and we both stopped. Steph slowed down her movements until I saw the tiniest piece of iron under the disc.

“There!”

Steph laid the detector down carefully and pulled out the spade. I grabbed a small stick and squatted down, tracing the outline in the dirt of what I thought it was; a fly cog. Steph dug following my line and sure enough, a fly cog emerged from the dirt. I picked it up and dusted it off. It was only a hand span in size but a number of little wedges of open space were perfect for a cute miniature garden of succulents. Someone from the care facility was sure to fall in love with it.

The rest of the morning went the same way. Lots of “Eureka!” for bottle tops, and “I’ve found something awesome!” for beer cans, a few “I’ve got it this time!” for coins that were interesting and some odd bits of metal that were probably two hundred-year-old bolts from some gold mining setup. I’d put those in the pile of trinkets I had in a bowl at the front of the store where the little kids could take one when their parents bought a plant.

Our detecting didn’t always lead to detecting. Sometimes when I squatted down, Steph did as well, and we got a few kisses in before one of us nearly toppled over. One time, I looked about, then leaving the detector on the ground, backed Steph up to the nearest smooth-barked gumtree. I spun us around because, with my boots standing on a root, it put me at eye level.

“Hi, there, sexy bush woman,” I said huskily, and her eyes grew dark.

“Hi, there, right back, gorgeous thing you. Just to let you know,” she whispered, her voice easily heard over the silence of the bushland. “I’m so turned on that you could make me come through my clothes.”

I gasped, then after quickly looking around again, I held Steph to me, while I ran my fingertip across her breasts and nipples, then slid them down so I could undo the zip on her jeans. I slid my hand inside her undies.

“Forget clothes,” I muttered. Then pressed my lips to hers. My finger slipped through her slick folds. “Fuck, Steph. You’re so wet.”

“I told you,” she panted.

With our mouths open and tongues twisting together, I manipulated Steph’s clit, rubbing and tweaking it. “What do you want?” I whispered.

“What can I have?” Steph gasped.

“Ask me.”

“I want you to make me come,” she moaned.

I rubbed faster. Then stopped.

And Steph keened into the air.

I moved my hand from her hip to her mouth and stifled her moans. “Sh. Sound carries in the bush.”

“Oh! Angel, I’m—I want to come.”

She grunted and groaned against my hand, while I worked her clit. Suddenly, she went rigid and clutched at my shirt, shaking as she came silently, her trembling body saying more than any words could.

She dropped her forehead to my shoulder while I carefully zipped up her jeans, then I held her to me as we leaned back onto the trunk of the tree.

I was in the bush, metal detecting and having tree sex. I was exceedingly happy. I was doing all those things with a person that I might have fallen in love with.

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