Christian Porter (pictured) has decided to use his short break from his Australian Attorney-General duties to clear his mind by penning a Mills and Boons page-turner.
“It’s actually a romance/crime story,” he told The Bug as he provided us with an exclusive look at just a short extract from the book, Letting Love Go.
“I’ll deadset die and go to heaven if she takes hold of my hand,” strapping and handsome Peter Christian thought of the pretty girl beside him.
They were walking together back to her university room and Peter was thankful it was a cloudy Sydney night as his growing interest in what might happen there was fast making itself obvious.
“Could this be the night?” Peter thought as he kept his eyes on her swinging left hand, “and if it is, will I remember this walk in 33 years time?”
“Probably not,” he guessed.
He and the girl had enjoyed a couple of marvelous days together as, with two other lads, they made up the Australian schools debating side at an international championships in the NSW capital.
One of those lads had called it the mass-debating championships and Peter noticed that his female teammate had laughed heartily at the silly little joke. “No prude,” he slotted into a memory bank.
And now she had asked him and not the other boys to see her safely home after a night out dancing. He let his left hand hang limply to his front to hide the obvious appreciation he was showing for that kindness.
They had certainly had a lot of fun at the nightclub and the other three had sniffed little canisters of something called amyl nitrate. Peter declined, not wanting to risk his chances of one day being Australian prime minister.
The closest he had ever come to that was at the Hale school, where he and some mates had drunk upside down cups of coca-cola laced with asprin and then held breaths until dizzyness or death set in.
Finally they got to the campus and his heart missed more than one beat when she said coyly:
“Would you like to see my room?”
“Sure. I’ll see you safely to your door. It’s the least a decent, kind young man could do,” he replied nonchalantly, as walking became more and more difficult.
As they approached her door, he couldn’t get that Sound of Music song out of his mind. “I am seventeen, going on 18; you are 16 going on 17…. I’ll take care of you … ALL FUCKING RIGHT!”
After chastising himself for his mental obscenity, Peter will never quite understand what happened in that walk along the corridor. Was it the fact that he was so young and callow himself and totally unwise to the ways of the sexual world of real grownups?
Was she as a person on the cusp of womanhood equally vulnerable? But at the door, his mind had been made up. It was not the time for either of them.
He held out his hand and said simply: “I’ve had a really good time. Sleep well.”
And the moment her hand clasped his in friendship, electric pulses raced to other parts of his body that clearly had a totally different view of what should have happened next.
Even Peter was slowly shaking his head and muttering “you stupid prick” to himself as he retreated along the corridor.
He then gasped in astonishment as a young man who looked a deadringer for him and wearing very similar clothing passed by without any eye contact or physical acknowledgment such as a slight nod or even a half-friendly wave.
This man was Peter’s doppelganger – that was clear – and there was a sinister look on his face that sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.
He was obviously up to no good … and he was heading in the direction of his young lady friend’s door!
To be continued.