At the age of 23, Laura secured a job in the Australian outback as a cook’s assistant. She quickly learned how to assist these lonely cattlemen with more than just cooking. “Man can not live on bread alone.”
The lure of earning very good money tempted me to apply to a small advertisement seeking a cook’s assistant on a cattle station in outback Queensland. Hell, all my life I had assisted Mom around the kitchen so I figured I was qualified for any sort of cooking tasks. I rang the number and a young sounding guy invited me for an interview that afternoon. I dressed for the occasion; mini skirt and low cut top so my little boobs could display themselves. If you are being interviewed by a guy this works.
It worked like a charm with this fellow, more interested in my physical qualifications than my work record. As we stood up at the conclusion of the interview, I leaned forward over his desk to pick up my paperwork and gave him a real eyeful. I could see the bulge in his pants and knew that the interview had been a success.
Sure enough in four days I received two hundred dollars, a bus ticket and instructions. I was to meet a guy called Reg from Sandy Station at the Birdsville Hotel in 5 days. Shit, that was quick, bloody Birdsville. Oh well, the money was good so I got myself ready for the journey.
Four days in the bus from hell and I stepped off it and walked into the legendary Hotel. It was divine, ice-cold beer and friendly locals. Outside the temperature was over 110 degrees and it was expected to get hotter during my stay.
Next day a battered pickup with Sandy Station barely visible painted on the door pulled up at the Hotel. I made myself known and Reg near had a heart attack.
“What the fuckin’ hell are you doing here, we was expecting a young guy. Don ‘t tell me that dickhead agent in Melbourne screwed up again,” he shouted.
“Well do you want a cook or a bloody weight lifter? If its a cook, then lets get to it Reg,” I remarked with a touch of sarcasm. He smiled and then said, “Girlie I didn’t drive all this way not to have a bloody beer, so lets be into it.”
Four hours later we crawled back to the truck, both pissed, and off we headed.
“How far Reg?”
“Three fuckin’ hours love,” he mumbled.
I fell asleep soon after and woke some time later in a lather of sweat. God it was hot and bumpy. My top was soaked with sweat and sticking to my boobs outlining every curve and as we bounced along, they just jiggled away much to Reggie’s delight.
“Nearly there now Laura,” he said with a grin. I looked around and thought, ‘nearly bloody where.’ At last a few scrubby buildings appeared and these were to be home for the next six weeks.
(more…)