Free Ask No Questions by Justine Elyot

be hanging about the marketplace in an outsized shirt and nothing else. It was fair enough, he supposed.
    Having sold his live stock and shared the usual grim news round-up with farming colleagues, he made his excuses and drove to the supermarket on the outskirts of town.
    Never having spent much time in the ladies' clothing section of a shop, he felt every eye upon him as he wandered through rails of sundresses and shorts.
    Shorts. There was a thought. He'd just buy her a ton of very short shorts.
    But then that meant he had to fiddle about with buttons and zips.
    Maybe dresses then. These long flowing numbers would look good on her, though they weren't wildly practical for day-to-day farm life. Floating around in a floral maxi and flip-flops wouldn't be much help with the shearing.
    He hurried past the underwear shelves without even bothering to look.
    Finally he made it to the counter with: one pair of floral wellies (size 4), since they didn't seem to sell sensible green ones; one pair of lace-up tennis shoes; two pairs of denim cut-offs (irresistible); a three-pack of multi-coloured vest tops (would look good without a bra); one colour-block jersey maxi-dress; one lightweight raincoat; one straw sunhat.
    He was reasonably pleased with his purchases, though the way the sales assistant eyed him as she bagged them up made him feel hot under the collar. Clearly, she wasn't used to men buying women's clothes in here.
    Wandering back through the shop, he tried to imagine what the woman had made of him. Perhaps she thought he had kidnapped a girl and was holding her prisoner. He pictured Kim, tied naked to his bed, and couldn't prevent a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.
    Perhaps he'd do that when he got home. He had plenty of cables and ropes about the place. He could tie her up and get something to tickle her with…what could he use? Probably not a chicken feather, maybe an ear of wheat…
    He had come to the front of the shop, where the newspapers and magazines were sold, and something at the corner of his eye made him stop and wheel around. What had he seen? Where was it?
    There.
    He snatched up the copy of Closer magazine and stared at the cover.
    It couldn't be.
    Could it be?
    It was.
    *
    He parked the jeep, detached the trailer and swept it out, took the carrier bags from the passenger seat and headed for the farmhouse.
    Underneath Skip's cheerful barks, a vacuum cleaner droned.
    He put the bag s on the kitchen table and let Skip jump up at him, crouching down for a hug, holding his dog in his arms while he stared blankly at the living room door.
    "There's my girl," he soothed, tickling her neck before straightening up.
    If only all women were as uncomplicated as Skip. A bit of affection and a nice meaty bone was all she ever asked. He'd thought Kim similar in her way. But now it seemed he'd read her all wrong.
    She was bending down to vacuum underneath a coffee table when he entered the room. Her shirt had ridden right to the tops of her thighs, skimming her luscious round bottom. Any higher and she wouldn't be hiding a thing.
    He watched her, his knees weakening, cursing the stirring of his groin. Why did she do this to him?
    She must have heard the door click shut behind him, because she straightened up, grinned over her shoulder and switched off the vacuum cleaner.
    "Good day at the market?" she asked brightly, then her smile faded. "What's up?"
    "No wonder you didn't want to come to town," he said.
    "Oh fuck."
    "Kizzee."
    She collapsed into an armchair, her head between her knees.
    "That is your name, isn't it?" he persisted, hating how hard and cold his voice sounded.
    She looked up and her eyes were brilliant, on fire.
    "No," she said vehemently. "My name is Kim."
    "Kizzee's a stage name then?"
    "Yes. It's the name he chose for me. It's not mine and I don't want it."
    Rhys stood against the door, floored into silence for a moment.
    "I think the time's come for an explanation, don't you?" he