The Tractor Goat Love Triangle

The Tractor Goat Love Triangle

A Romance of Exotic Permutations

By Natasha Novikova

Chapter One: On the strange nature of Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece.

"By Zeus' great burning gonads!" he swore.

The white painted concrete holiday patio absorbed very little of the Greek sunshine. It appeared that most of it seemed to be dazzling directly into Luke's eyes. He'd endured it with stoic British resolve on the first day, but the brain melter of a headache triggered as the sun dipped into the Aegean sea had made his plucky British resolve evapourate.

The next morning he had hit the tourist shops in the town to pick up a pair of cheap, but substantial sunglasses... or 'shades' as the American friends in his office would call them. The two monolithic solid black sections of plastic could have protected his eyes had he taken up a career in industrial welding. He wasn't surprised to discover he could glance at the sun and that brutal ball of atomic power appeared to be a weakly shimmering green disc. The Sun took on the aspect of a weird stellar anomoly... the sort the Starship Enterprise used to frequently encounter back in those beloved low budget days of the 1960s Trek. Mr Spock would gaze into that blue light thing and announce "Captain, it appears to be a manifestation of a 4th order magnitude cosmic radiation."

"We should issue sun block to the crew immediately and go to yellow alert!" Luke muttered in reply.

His body coated in enough sunscreen to block the worst part of a nuclear blast, a wide umbrella angled to create a small patch of glorious shadow, he attempted to relax inside on the holiday lounger. Naturally pale skinned and blonde from his Scandanavian ancesters, Luke felt he was taunting his own family gods of Thor and Odin by all this stretching out and loafing. Personally he would have been happier with a week treking across the Scottish Highlands or rooting around in 2nd Hand Bookshops in Denmark. This holiday had been a choice of his American ex-Girlfriend, and was to have served as a Honeymoon break following their wedding.

Instead of romantic boat journeys around the islands, sunbathing together on hot golden sands, his entertainment was listening to a cheesy audio book he'd downloaded before flying out alone. He had a full seven days break in this Greek paradise of sunshine and unbelievable blue ocean to wonder about what he had done wrong.

Melody was beautiful, but pushy. He'd moved to America to pursue his passion for computing and she had been the first American to choose him from the available nerd gene pool. Luke figured there must have been some mystical cache for scoring an exotic pale skinned English geek from among the herd at the computer company. He didn't question anything until she suddenly moved out of their shared apartment and stopped answering his calls a week before the wedding ceremony.

Luke's patio was a little higher than surrounding apartments, so he had a perfect bird's eye view for people watching. Red sunburned German holiday makers grunting their way resolutely past, squeezed into their swimwear and gruesome patterned shirts. Obviously bound for the beach down the twirling twisty walk from the cluster hillside apartments. Chattering Italians looking fashionable in their designer swimsuits and trunks. Enigmatic oriental holidaymakers who gracefully embraced the ridiculous heat without complaint or apparent discomfort.

Despite his attempts to ignore beautiful women in swimwear, Luke did notice several attractive bronzed goddesses, smooth legs, flashing smiles beneath wide brimmed straw hats. Recent tragedy in the world of romance aside, he found his guilty attention settled on one particular passer by. She had a beautiful classically sculpted narrow face and striking Roman nose. It was the face of Egyptian queen, carved on a temple wall of Karnak or Giza, but her hair was a coppery bronze mass of devasting curls. Her body a swimmers build, wide shoulders, slim waist and generous toned bum. As she flip flopped past in those crazy rubber thongs, she would smile a hello to him in greeting. In the world of the desperate and the dumped, that smile was like a nuclear weapon. The first time it happened he had shivers inside him for an hour afterward. Now he found himself waiting for her to walk pass again. It was the only real reason he was risking the punishing power of the Greek sun. Waiting for her to walk by and that little flutter in his stomach to happen again.

He smiled at the silly nature of that thought and turned over onto his stomach. Had he been asked, by anyone... say that attractive bronze haired goddness, he would say that he taken this holiday to get his head straight after the diasterous engagement. Maybe he would leave the part about this being their failed Honeymoon break. Yes, that part was definately to be glossed over. He was just a pale British male, more suited to canal holidays on the Norfolk Broads to blistering heat and white beaches. He needed a reason to explain the weirdness of his fish out of water holiday choice.

He did feel inwardly happy and grateful that the doomed relationship with Melody had crashed and burned before he'd found himself trapped by a grey pointless marriage to her? Once that intial attraction to her wore off a little he knew she was a wholely inappropriate partner. Thinking about a week with the self centred Melody for a week in a chalet for two brought a sinking feeling to his gut. However he should have cancelled rather than allowed himself rattle around in it for week. The horrible waste of money he couldn't realistically afford gave him jitters of stress. He had to make something of this silly expense. Wasting the money went against his nature. He thought about the goddess of the bronze hair and Greco-Roman nose. Damn, the absolute last thing he needed was a romantic holiday complication. When on a rebound theraputic holiday the encounter with a whirlwind foreign fling was the worst of all possible bad ideas.

The ear buds buzzed deep in his head...

"Mr Lincoln, do not move! the voice said. Jake felt the gun push straight into the hard muscles of his back. He held his hands up slowly. 'Okay, you have me!' he hissed." Luke was hardly concentrating on the story. THE NINTH TERMINATION was a trashy holiday blockbuster, 20 hours of car chases, explosions and a plot that sprawled across half of europe.Truth be told, Luke had no idea who was pointing a gun at Jake... he didn't suppose it mattered. The author would clear things up soon enough or he wouldn't. That was the essential nature of the holiday blockbuster. One crazy encounter to another.

"Now take off your clothes, Mr Lincoln! the woman's voice whispered. Jake let his hands drop to the fastening of his pants and slowly unbuttoned them."

"Oh, heck...no," Luke groaned. The button to pause the audio book was buried too deeply in the app. Luke had to endure the tumbling of Jake Lincoln's pants and underwear before he could stop it. There would be passion, bodies sliding across other bodies... things going inside things... hell. Next to whirlwind holiday flings he didn't need steamy sex scenes in books.

It hadn't been a great breakup. Luke had gone through some stuff and quite a bit toward the end before Melody packed bags and moved out had been bedroom related. His libido had bottomed out until he was unable to perform in any fashion with her. She had been angry, demanding he take medication or therapy. She was gorgeous, and completely fuckable she declared.

Afterwards he hadn't even attempted to masturbate. Then when he tried he discovered his response was zero. Just lonely fumbling that would just make him feel even more shit, especially when the hardest he could get himself was pathetic. Now he found himself avoiding arousal. Unlike Jake Lincoln, who was being seduced at gunpoint by a Russian Spy, Luke suspected he'd probably need a ton of therapy before he could raise anything in the bedroom again.

"Good afternoon?" came a greeting from the other side of the patio. It was the bronze haired Eygptian queen returning from the beach. Legs dusty with sand, towel wrapped about her waist. Gengerous full figure in a black swimming costume hugging the modest swell of her breasts.

"Hi!" Luke blurted. He pulled out his ear buds. His neighbour flashed that killer smile at him and Luke couldn't help responding to.

"It is another hot one..." she said. Her accent was deliciously foreign, but Luke didn't have the experience to tell where the heck from.

"Yes, I'm not brave enough to beach it until it cools down a little tonight." Luke spread his hands in surrender. "I'm going for a walk later."

"American, yes?" she asked.

"British, but I've lived in America for a while."

"British people are usually in the bars, aren't they?" she asked, grinning even wider.

"That isn't a reputation we Brits enjoy being labelled with," he gulped. "I'm not here for the nightlife."

"Alone in Greece for the culture then?" she glanced across the patio. He did have a double chalet, and two sun loungers, but there was absolutely no evidence of a Mrs Greek Holiday anywhere.

"The Culture and some sunshine..." he said.

"Hmmm..." she replied.

"Alone..." He found himself wanting to explain the alone part, but not sure how to proceed. This was the longest he had spoken to anyone since arriving. And it was with the one person he had longed to speak to since she first strolled past.

"Alone is okay... Greece is a friendly place. You can always find company if alone becomes not okay," she laughed and gave him a little wave. That voice, was it Polish?

"Yes, yes..." he said. She dipped her widebrimmed sun hat and turned to walk down to her chalet.

"Goodbye, Mr Alone for Culture... see you later." she called over one beautiful shoulder.

Luke watched the sway of her hips and the perfect swimmer's triangle of her shoulders as she walked away. He felt a warm twitch of response in his crotch.

The moment she was out of sight he cursed.

"God..." he lurched up suddenly and turned to jog into his chalet. He yanked the door open and lurched inside. Throwing off his trunks he sprawled onto the bed, flat on his back, hand circling the warmth of his cock. He closed his eyes and massaged

'Alone in Greece for the culture?" he asked himself. Was she wondering why he was alone or interested that he was alone?

He felt himself stiffen a little more. He began to pump furiously at his semi-erection, feeling it slip uncomfortably and loosely in his grasp.

"Fuck me!" he begged himself, pretending it was his exotic neighbour whispering those desperately ridiculous words. The erection began to go down and he paused.

"Fuck..." he moaned and let go of himself.

So much for being alone in Greece for the culture! What the hell just happened? Was he so damaged by all this shit that the first stirrings of anything in his pants was going to make him dash for privacy and the hand lotion?

The next day she passed again. It wasn't surprising, the road that linked all the apartments on the hillside had no other route. She worn a pale green swimsuit today, with a floral wrap tied about her waist.

"Good Morning Mr Alone in Greece for the Culture," she smiled.

"Good Morning," he matched her smile. "I don't know if today is going to be culture or sunshine."

"A mystery... you have me at intrigued." she paused at the gate to his patio.

"I'm Luke, " he rose and crossed to the gate, offering a hand. Her smile widened delightfully at the gesture.

"I'm Rebeccah, Becca for shorts," she took his hand and shook it formally, but warmly.

"So, what mystery are you investigating today?" he pointed at her beach bag, filled with towels, bottles of water already misted with condensation.

"I am on a mission for the Russian Government, highly classified and if you discover anything about it I will have to kill you immediately." she answered with a mock serious candor to her voice.

"That would be bad for my holiday." Luke suggested.

"And worse for you, I think." Becca said. Was that a Russian accent? Worth a guess.

"So, you are Russian then?" he asked.

"Who said anything about the Russians?" Becca glanced covertly around.

"Nobody, I think..."

"Excellent, my Overlords in Mocksva will be pleased that I've have attained my Phase One of getting the English Boy engaged in my mission." she grinned. "Let us go to the beach?"

"Okay," he gulped."Mocks-va?"

"Yes, don't put a cow in it..."

"Oh...." he smiled.

They had found a cafe that entertained tourists with tolerable politeness and found themselves sheltered under wide umbrellas on the broad sunny harbour side. Tiny fishing boats drifted across the flawless blue sea and the seagulls wheeled so high above their cries couldn't be heard.

The house blend of coffee here was flavoured with an aftertaste that Luke found especially weird. He thought that living in America for the last three years he'd experienced every weird variation of America's obsession with coffee flavours and infusions. Coffee should never be able to just taste like coffee, not when hazlenuts roamed the Earth. Not when caramel lurked in amber flagons beside the eager fingers of excited Barristas. And apparently not when socks pulled from less than fresh feet rested in wicker baskets.

"Are you drinking this?" Luke asked. "This coffee tastes vaugely of feet to me."

"Greek coffee has some mysterious tangs" Becca laughed, sipping more of the foot brew.

"They really should warn you before ordering." Luke tried another sip. This was probably a vanilla or aniseed, maybe washing up water.

He took another sip and winced. Becca seemed to drink it with a stoic resolve that confirmed to Luke that she probably was Russian.

"So have you been to Greece before?" she asked.

"No, I've been obsessed with travelling around America for the last three years. Every vacation has been to various places that Hollywood sold to us poor Brits as paradise with diners."

"Like where?" Becca grinned.

"New York wasn't as exciting as I'd been told by the movies!" he said.

"Surely that is a good thing... New York in the movies is all about getting mugged in Central Park and stabbed in the Bronx, isn't it?"

"There is Sleepless in Seattle.." Luke said.

"A romance set mostly not in New York?" Becca observed.

"There is that, but the bit at the end happens in New York." Luke shrugged. "And it is a happy ending."

"You like the happy romance films?" Becca raised an eyebrow in query.

"Nothing wrong with a good happy ending." he suggested.

"Well... sometimes optimisim is a way to go..."

"You don't like happy endings?" Luke asked.

"I'm from a gloomy family..." she grinned. "Very often the most memorable stories are the ones where Uncle Yuri gets eaten by a bear while using the outside toilet."

"There wasn't really room for a bear in Sleepless in Seattle..." Luke laughed, hoping that the Uncle Yuri story wasn't real.

"There is a New York Zoo, isn't there?" Becca placed a finger on her chin in mocking thought.

"New York Zoo could be exclusively Bears," Luke said "... Brown Bears, Kodiak Bears, Polar Bears, but even if they escaped on the night Tom Hanks arrived I can't imagine how their appearance in the Empire State Building would have enhanced the ending."

"Eating the poor Meg Ryan... leaving Tom Hanks tragically alone..." Becca suggested.

"This Russian Edit of the movie would definately remove it from the Romantic Comedy section of your favourite streaming service." Luke suggested.

"Not all romance can have comedy, Mr Alone in Greece." she pointed out.

"I'm not alone anymore... I appear to have discovered my very own gloomy bear attack loving companion." Luke pointed out.

"Very true, I give you points for that observation." she ticked an imaginary box in the air in front of his nose.

"Thank you." he dipped his head in acknowledgement of the points.

"However, in claiming your Doomed Gloomy Bear Attack loving companion... how do you know there isn't a Mr Gloomy Bear waiting eagerly for my return to Russia?" she asked.

"I was sort of hoping that maybe there wasn't." he dropped his gaze from her face, but that just took his gaze down to her gorgeous breasts.

"There isn't, you are lucky...Mr Happy Ending..." Becca stifled a laugh. "Are you pleased about that?" She enhanced the question with a playfully soft kick to his shin.

"I am pleased..." he grinned.

"And I am pleased about how much you are pleased." she smiled.

"That is another point for us both..." he announced bravely. He ticked two imaginary boxes in the air beside them.

"And should the Gloomy Bear Attack Loving Russian worry about Miss Happy American Ending?" Becca asked.

"I have no happy Americans awaiting my return to the States!" Luke said, with a little too much emphatic feeling.

"Unhappy Americans await your return?" she asked.

"Nobody is awaiting my return..." Luke declared. Was that strictly true?

They enjoyed lunch from the cafe and strolled along the beach before the heat grew too much. Becca talked about art, seemed she was an art student and fasinated by Coptic Imaginary in the Greek church. Luke though coptic were the strange jars that ancient Egyptians kept body parts in.

"That is Canopic... very different." Becca laughed.

"I love your accent," Luke said.

When the air began to shimmer as though it would trigger a flashback in a movie, they decided it was time to head for shelter. There was a lot of happenings in recent months that Luke certainly didn't want to flash back to.

"Shall we go back to your chalet?" she asked very softly.

"Yes," he felt himself tremble as he answered.

Hand in hand they made the steep walk back to the holiday chalets.

"I need to tell you something," he said as they paused before the door to his chalet.

"There really is a Mrs Happy Ending back home?" Becca looked disappointed.

"No, good lord, no..." he protested.

"Then I am happy and single... and you are single and nervous?" she asked.

"Something like that... I am nervous," he admitted.

"See how good I am at reading people..." Becca gave herself another air tick. "I like nervous, it changes to relaxed with nice homely Russian girl, yes?"

"You're not homely in the slightest!" Luke felt his mouth go dry.

"Now you offend me... I have the good child bearing hips," she slapped her wonderful hips.

"Lets avoid anymore talk of bearing anything... I'm still upset about Uncle Yuri," he said.

The temperature in his chalet was overwhelming. The walk back up the hill had made his head spin and the prospect of Becca returning to his Chalet had honestly filled him with a near panic.

"You are very very very nervous?" she asked as they pushed into the gloom of his lounge.

"Yes," he mopped his sweaty face. "My breakup with Miss American Ending was really horror show levels of nasty... this holiday was supposed to be a honeymoon." Damn, he was supposed to keep that a secret.

"Oh god, I knew it.... and you decided to come alone?..." Becca dropped down onto his sofa. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite to her.

"Yes, I didn't want to waste the tickets... and I needed to get my head straight."

"She wasn't eaten by bear, was she?" Becca asked.

"She probably wishes I'd been eaten by bear," Luke shrugged.

"You want to talk all about it before we go to your bedroom?" she asked.

"Are we going to the bedroom?" he asked.

"Do you not want to go to the bedroom with me?" she smiled very softly.

"I do.. with you..." he confessed. There really wasn't any answer other than 'yes' anywhere in his brain, though alarm bells were clanging alerts in various other parts of him.

"Then we lay the ghost of Miss America down here... while we are in there..." she suggested.