Good Guys Don't Hit Women

Nursing a black eye – black from bruising – Darcy Treadwell grinned at the teasing he received on entering the bar on the waterfront of the tiny coastal village of Kauri Bay.

The usual comment was "Cor, your wife hit you?" One variation was, "Your mother-in-law hit you?" Neither was correct, Darcy had walked into the doorway of the cabin on his fishing boat, and anyone looking closely above his eye would see that the crease of the door jam extended it line up into his hairline.

A creaming breaker had reared against the side of Lady Megan as Darcy was entering the cabin to take shelter in deteriorating weather. He rolled sideways to compensate for the lurching of the boat, over-did it a bit, and whammo: he saw stars on a rainy night!

Walking home later, Darcy smiled thinking about those comments of physical abuse. Most people knew that he'd be the last person to hit a woman because he had a reputation for working to attempt to reform wife beaters. Darcy's motto was well known around this part of the Coromandel Coast: Good Guys Don't Hit Women!

This personal crusade goes back to when he was a seven year old.

Darcy's father was a fisherman with his own boat, a heavy rowing boat.

It was easy to tell when dad had netted a big catch; he'd come home drunk with presents for their mum Megan, Darcy and his much older sister Jane. Not presents, really, just a bag of sweets for each of the kids and a box of chocolates for mum.

Dad and mum would be happy, yelling and laughing in the bedroom until his mum would scream. The screaming would subside and she'd fall asleep. That was the good part; the next part was not.

Their father would read the newspaper, perhaps answering questions from Darcy and Jane relating to school homework and then he'd say, "Where's my fucking dinner?"

He'd lurch into the bedroom and drag out their mother, nude and crying, smacking her across the head and yelling, "Get me my fucking dinner."

Darcy grew up witnessing such abuse and after Jane married when she turned seventeen and left home, Darcy used to get beaten, attempting to stand between his drunken father and hapless mother. Fortunately his father slapped, rather than punched, but nevertheless wife and son suffered cuts, bruises and bloodied noses.

One night Darcy made his mother run-away with him, to escape this brutality forever. They went from where they lived in the edge of the Manuakau Harbour into the city and slept that night on seats in a dark corner of the bus station. Next morning they went by bus, making two changes, and walked the last eleven miles, arriving at his uncle's general store in late afternoon.

Uncle Rex was most disturbed about the bruising to his sister's face, got down his shotgun and shouted he was going to shoot the bastard, but Darcy;s mother and Aunt Phil wrenched the gun from him and calmed him down.

A few days later Megan disappeared, and Aunty Phil told Darcy his mother had gone home - "She's gone back to him, dear. Some women are like that." The next day Aunt Phil drove Darcy to the bus and he went home.

Months later Darcy and his mother retraced their journey back to the Coromandel, but within three days Megan was missing her husband, missing caring for him she said, so they returned home.

When Darcy was seventeen Megan was walking across a narrow bridge and was hit and killed by the inattentive truck driver. Days after the funeral, finding that his father was interested only in fishing and drinking, Darcy left home to find a life, and that he did.

"You are so white, you need to spend time sunbathing on the beach," said Susan the young tally clerk recording weights at the scale where labourers like Darcy barrowed heavy bales of compressed wool fleeces brought in on trucks.

After weighing they would barrow their bale to a holding area. Wool classers would yell – usually something like 'Bale-ho', 'Roll one' or 'Fetch, Rover!'

Why would this girl think he needed to sunbath on a beach?

"Never done that on a beach – I only go across the beach to go fishing."

"Oh, beaches are more useful than just walking across," giggled Susan. "Look, why don't you come sunbathing with me on Saturday when we finish up here at 1:00. I'll bring something to eat and drink. You bring suntan cream and a magazine for me – something sexy."

She meant of course a women's gossip magazine with a decorative, scantily dressed woman on the cover. Not realising that, Darcy purchased a Men's Magazine that in those days came from under the counter wrapped in plain brown paper.

On Saturday Darcy was devastated; it was raining. This was going to be the first real date of his life, and now it was washed out. He smiled glumly at Susan.

"The rain? Don't worry. There's a shelter down at the beach; we can watch the rain and read. Perhaps something else would come to mind."

She said that so casually that Darcy was sure she could mean having a cuddle.

There were no seats in the shelter, so they sprawled on the sand on their towels.

Susan was somewhat surprised at Darcy's choice of magazine for her, and suggested they should read it together.

"Oh my goodness, look at the size of her breasts," Susan gasped, turning to the first feature.

"They make them much larger than that," said well-read Darcy.

Susan flushed and pointed to the shaven and very plump cunt of a blonde woman. "Look at it, will you? He hair has been trimmed, and the lips are so full."

"You would too, if you got what she gets pumped into her," Darcy countered. Darcy, a virgin, was simply repeating what his mate Trevor would say when they were reading some of Trev's mags.

To Darcy's surprise Susan moaned, rolled almost under his raised chest, pulled his head down and began kissing him hotly.

He loved it, and she made no attempt to clear away their dribble. Not only that, her hand was wiggling under him in search of his cock. Holy cow!

Darcy went home late that afternoon, no longer a virgin and absolutely amazed how soft – in manner as well as physically –that Susan had become.

Girls who he'd messed around with always seemed to be defensive, occasionally almost hostile. He still couldn't get over how Susan didn't mind his sobering kisses and even more incredibly she just lay there with his white stuff all over her lower body after she'd yelled "Take it out, now! She'd then gazed up at him, stroking his face and practically purring. Jesus!

Deciding that he'd date Susan for a couple of years until he'd saved up enough money to marry her and set up in a rented house, Dacry was amazed was she didn't see it that way. She didn't go out with him again, although still chatting to him very nicely. Darcy was confused about this until one of the new guys said he was taking that lush Susan to the beach on Saturday.

Darcy knew that he should have beaten that guy to pulp, but then that would be little different than hitting a woman. Anyway, the guy looked rather muscular.

To settle the matter without fuss, Darcy simply left the bale of wool on his barrow halfway to the temporary dump, gave the fingers sign to the wool classer who looked at him called 'Fetch, Rover' and went to the pay clerk to sign a termination notice and collect his final pay. He felt little different to those times when his mother had walked out on him in their sanctuary to return to his father.

Looking for work vacancies in the newspaper, Darcy noticed a New Zealand Navy recruitment advertisement and decided he'd like to join and fire one of those big guns at the front of warships. That meant visiting his father to sign the consent form, which he did. The old man went on and on saying he was very proud of Darcy. Darcy couldn't remember his father ever saying that to him, thought his mum had always been at it.

After basic training, which he loved, and then getting drafted, Darcy found too many of the guys wanted to fire big guns so he was placed in some wanking outfit called signals.

Actually he soon loved it and during long boring periods ashore or on a frigate waiting to go somewhere or actually sailing somewhere, the nice bunch of guys he was with taught him the theory of reading women's signals. Darcy's conclusion was women seemed to be a rather complicated lot. He told Ivan about his mother getting beaten up, rescued by Darcy but within days had gone back to the bastard.

"That's women for you, Darc; good for fucking and little else."

Darcy told Ivan it wasn't nice to talk about women like that. Ivan said "Darc, pull your head in." Darcy replied and then his lights went out and he awoke in the brig, with Ivan.

"What happened?" asked Darcy, confused.

"I don't know, mate," said an equally confused Ivan. "It's cabin fever, I think."

Over the next eight years Darcy found he really didn't like the naval diet of women. Many of them seemed hard and those that were not were either drunks or someone else's wife.

The women in naval administration not married seemed absolutely intent on achieving such status even by claiming to have been impregnated by the naval rating or more likely naval officer of their choice.

By now, a firm believer in the code that real men don't hit women, Darcy decided it was time to meet some real women, so he left the navy, now quite an expert in communications and the fast-developing field of electronics.

Darcy purchased a small radio repair business. The woman who ran the office, Doris, was a real woman. Was she ever!

Possessing a noticeable chest, Doris had a beautifully rounded small tummy apparent under his tight dress and frequently crossed and uncrossed her long legs, drawing attention to them. Doris, of course, was bored in her job and bored at home with a boring husband.

Doris told Darcy at morning teatime on his first day in charge, that Alec the previous owner usually lunched with her.

"We'd locked the door, switch the phones on to night service, and then I guess anything could happen," said Doris, fluffing up the sides of her hair. Then, looking at her beautifully shaped and polished fingernails (she had plenty of time attending to those chores at work), asked, "Interested in carrying on the tradition, Darcy?"

"What tradition is that?" asked Darcy, pretending not to notice her suck in her stomach which then made her breasts stand out even more, Doris sighed and said the one good thing about men was they were very trainable.

"I'll see you at lunch time, Darcy. Now run along."

Bonking Doris provided Darcy with some of his best lunch hours ever. He'd intended only taking a thirty minute break for lunch, but Doris insisted it had to be an hour otherwise her day would become excessive boring.

Eventually Darcy had earned a pile of money, sold the significantly expanded business for a very tidy sum, and after introducing the new husband and wife owners to Doris, left the premises for good. Of course, he heard Doris being told that she would be made redundant, but Doris calmly replying to the couple that they must review Doris' position over lunch, just the three of them.

A month later Darcy was doing what he'd always wanted to do as a kid – operate his own fishing boat. He purchased the vessel that could be worked by just two people, and operated out of the Coromandel Harbour as a licensed commercial fisherman. He fetched his father to take him out, but his father really showed no interest beyond the whisky bottle.

That first fishing trip on his new boat was three years ago, and now Darcy was walking home with a black eye. Darcy owned the house but the running costs were equally split between him and his mate Tony.

Tony was back in the pub chatting up a couple of American women hitch-hiking through the area. It was likely Tony would have them both in his bed before morning, a real stickman was Tony and if he wasn't doing it, he spent a great deal of time talking about doing it or sharing past experiences. Darcy had never quite met anyone so sexually focused, as Tony, but that was about to change.

Darcy and Tony didn't lock their house. Whenever they left it unattended Tony's dog Brutus, which he'd had since a pup, roamed the fenced in house on guard. Anyone entering an ignoring the warning notices and Brutus' bark of alarm did so at his or her own peril, which is what the notices say.

Parking on the street – the house was without undercover parking – Darcy went through the gate and was surprised that Brutus didn't come bounding to greet him. He found Brutus asleep outside his kennel, which caused a bit of head scratching. Brutus never went to sleep without a bellyful of tucker.

Darcy went into his bedroom through the French doors. Just as he was adjusting his vision to near-darkness, he was whacked over his good eye by an intruder leaping from Darcy's bed.

Darcy grabbed the squealing assailant and was about to smash his fist against the burglar's face when he realised what he had in his hand was a women's breast – a big one at that. This hestitation caused him more grief.

Bang, she slugged him again, this time right into his good eye.

Groaning, Darcy fumbled, got her by both wrists and pushed her flat on to her back, pinning her down. The bitch, she was completely nude – he could see the newspaper article now: 'Fisherman Lands Nude Old Trout Burgling House.'

Actually the skin was scented and felt as if it might be smooth, he observed. Perhaps she wasn't an old trout, but sure as hell packed a good punch.

"Yuk, you're not an intruder," she said. "You stink of fish. Are you a pal of Tony's. When I found Brutus I knew I'd found Tony's house. Tony hadn't informed me he lived with anyone. Do you mind lifting your stinking carcase off me?"

Darcy obliged, but managing to furtively feel her. Yes, young skin, nice firm breasts and, oh God, she's fully shaven. Wonder if I'll be allowed to fuck it after I shower?

"Yes, take your time and have a good feel; it's the last one you'll get off me."

Well, thought Darcy, that answers my question. No fuck coming your way, laddie.

He turned on the wall lights; she already had pulled a sheet over herself.

My goodness, he thought. What a beauty.

My goodness, she thought. What a creep. Look at his eyes. Looks like women have been beating him off, the apparent rapist!

"Hi, I'm Darcy. Does Tony have a sister?"

"So you know Tony?"

"Yes, and who else but family and me could control Brutus?"

"Well, if you know Brutus you mustn't be the enemy. I thought you were somebody breaking in; you made a fucking lot of noise."

"Sorry, those doors stick. You go back to sleep. I'll just collect my things..."

"Is this your bed?"

"Yes, but I'll sleep on the couch."

"You could double up with Tony. The bed in there is king-size."

"Er."

"What?"

"Er, um."

"Oh Christ. He's still shagging anything of legal age that walks, is he?. I would have thought it would have turned black and fallen off by now."

"Er, um"

"No, in good working order is it? Goodie for him. Now get your ass into the shower and I'll go out and cook you late dinner and for him and his slut."

"Two."

"Oh, the filthy creep. I bet they will be the hot little Yankee girls that I passed on the bus. They were hitchhiking."

Darcy nodded.

"Well, it's no use you sleeping in the lounge, you won't be safe. You'd better sleep in here with me, head and tail and a sheet between us of course."

"Er, um. That would be nice."

"Oh good – your speech can extend into full sentences?"

Darcy couldn't believe his reaction: he had a great desire to hit the bitch.

"Now what? You've gone all sad. Do you have something to tell me?"

Darcy shook his head, smiled wanly, and disappeared into the bathroom.

When Darcy entered for dinner, Tony's sister introduced herself as Nadine.

"My, you've been in a fight, haven't you? But underneath you look very pleasant. I'm sorry I haven't seen you at your best. Nice body."

Darcy looked at her body, substantially concealed by one of his best shirts. He didn't say anything but stared long enough to make sure she registered his appreciation.

They chatted. Nadine explained she'd shot up the coast in to see Tony before going on to her parents in Wellington. She was coming home after spending six years working her way around Europe.

Hearing noisy chatter and thumping of vehicle doors outside, Nadine said, "Here's my brother and his entourage. I'll go to bed. Join me when you feel like it."

Tony introduced the two females from Chicago, both of whom were clutching him.

"Great, you cooked pasta for all of us. Who had the extra plate?"

"Um, I had a test bite first, Tony."

"Right. Girls, get some food into you please, you need to keep your energy levels up.

"Oh, Darc – I'd like to take them up the peninsula tomorrow. Is that okay? Then I'll whip them down to Whitianga."

Flicking a look at the closed door, Darcy said, "Yeah mate. I'll find someone to come out with me. Why don't you take a few days off, we've been flogging it a bit lately."

"Yeah, good one. Give you a chance to get one of those old hot mamas around here in to cook for you."

"Yeah, yeah. I think I'll hit the sack."

"Hey mate, what's wrong with your other eye. It's had a whack."

"Yeah, walked into a door."

Darcy went into the bedroom, closed the door and gently locked it. He slipped into the bottom of the bed, making quite sure he did not follow instructions to keep the sheet between them. He drooled as he felt his thigh against her warm and soft one. But her breathing was regular and no invitation was forthcoming; Nadine was asleep, or seemed to be.

Next morning with the sun well up Darcy could smell bacon cooking. After a quick wash he went out to the kitchen and kissed Nadine on the back of the neck. She said that was a very nice way to say good morning and told him to take the piece of dog roll out to Brutus.

"I heard the others screaming around in the kitchen this morning, laughing and carrying on and slamming cupboard doors. Then silence, then I heard them drive off before I'd got up to say hullo."

Darcy told Nadine about his conversation with Tony the previous night.

"That's dinky for him. What is it exactly that you two do – work in a fish factory or do you crew a boat?"

"I'll show you, rather than tell you. Right?"

"Okay, Mr Man of Mystery. Oh, with Tony away I'll be able to snatch his bed tonight."

Talking about snatch, thought Darcy visualising Nadine's pussy that he'd brushed his hand over the previous evening, any offers will be gratefully accepted, Nadine.

"You're quiet. What are you thinking," asked Nadine, staring at Darcy with her coffee cup suspended in her hands just below her mouth.

"Er, uh."

"Christ, one of those underdeveloped conversations again?"

Darcy shook his head.

"Er, uh, goodie," she teased.

An hour later they were aboard a dinghy pushed along by a 5 hp motor.

"We are going out to one of those fishing boats, aren't we?"

"Yes, in this new life of mine I own a fishing boat and Tony is my right-hand man, my only crewman."

"Which one?"

Darcy pointed and Nadine said, "Oh my God, it's a ship."

Grinning, Darcy said it was just big compared with the other boats around it. It was only 48ft long.

The misty weather gradually cleared as the weather warmed.

They went up the coast to a handy spot, and with Darcy having shown Nadine how to steer the boat and operate its twin throttles gave her the wheel while he went to the stern and began putting out four set lines, leaving the rest aboard to lessen the workload, being without Tony.

Although this was a pretty fished over area, one could never tell what the catch would be.

"Keep her on this course, you'll be able to do some sunbathing soon."

"Not with you looking at me, leering," she shouted lightly as he disappeared into the cabin to make them coffee."