“I will come to your place of work and announce to all and sundry that you have knocked me up and refuse to marry me.”
“I believe that you would. Oh, all right, I give up, where will I pick you up from?”
“I’m glad you asked. If you pick me up, you’re going to have to drop me home again. There’s no getting away from it now.”
“Very well, what is your address?”
“Give me your phone.” I handed it to her, her lightning-fast fingers flew back and forth across the screen until she was satisfied with the result. Now firmly embedded in my contacts file was her name, address, both home and work phone numbers. In the space for company, she had typed ‘yours’.
“Chandra, that’s an unusual name. Any Indians in your ancestry?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“What time will I pick you up?”
“Anytime you like.” She smirked.
“I mean tonight.”
“Seven, and I must warn you that I’m a stickler for punctuality. One minute late and you’ve blown your chances.”
This could be an interesting evening.
I got the third degree from Sydney when I eventually arrived at work, having accompanied Chandra to both the police station and then the hospital.
“This damsel in distress, I assume she was drop-dead gorgeous.”
“You assume correctly, I wouldn’t help any less. Now don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m not going to race off and marry the girl.”
“You leave my knickers out of this.”
“I have no interest in your knickers. Now, what are we working on?”
“The lovely Jacinta has acquired a new mansion and she wants our expertise to turn it into a showpiece for her.”
“And you want me to go to her and give her the hard sell, is that it.”
“Yes, you’ve got it in one, now off you go and do what you do best.”
This will be the third house that we’ve done over for Jacinta Tomlinson in the past five years. Every time she loses a husband she keeps the house, she tarts it up and sells it for a huge profit and then sets her sights on a new husband. When will these guys realise that she only marries them for one thing? Jacinta ‘Black widow’ Tomlinson has been unfortunate, or not, with her husbands. Within six months of marrying her, the husband dies of natural causes. The noticeable thing has been that the decline is gradual over a period of months leading to his death. Rumour has it that her sexual appetite is creative and voracious, too much of a good thing, not that her husband ever complained, the opposite was the case.
The latest husband/house was going to be a problem. This is a heritage listed building and there are strict conditions as to what can or cannot be done to it. I arranged to meet her at the house and to discuss her ideas for the remodel.
We walked from room to room as she told of her visions of what she wanted done to it. Her previous experience in this area, and her knowledge of the latest trends in décor, came to the fore. I had to admit that, while this was going to be expensive, the results would add much more to the valuation than the cost. She stood to make a substantial profit on this one. “I’ll come back tomorrow and wander through alone to get a feel for what you have planned. On paper what you have planned is great, but it has to feel right. The fanciest remodel will not work if it doesn’t feel right.”
“You know best,” she handed me a set of keys, “I’ll be gone all day, so take your time.”
Punctually on seven, I pushed the doorbell on Chandra’s door. The door opened and this spectacular vision stood in front of me. “Come in,” She stood aside, but not that far aside. I had to brush past her by design. My brushing was unsuccessful, she stopped me by flinging her arms around my neck and planting a non-platonic greeting kiss on my lips. Some little time later I had to prise my lips from hers. “The restaurant is booked for seven-thirty, we’d better make a move. I wouldn’t want to be unpunctual now, would I?”
“That was just to keep you interested.” Her hand found my tented trousers. “He is interested, isn’t he?”
“You could say that.” I took her hand and led her to the lift.
We arrived on time to be greeted by the head waiter. “Ah, M’sieur Baptiste, as always a pleasure. Your usual table is waiting for you.” He clicked his fingers to a waiter. “Charles, (pronounced ‘sharl’) would you show M’sieur Baptiste to his table.”
One of the reasons that I frequent Chez Henri is the service. The food is French Provencal, basic, done extremely well, and the wines are the best of both French and Australian. Henry, despite his pretentious spelling of his name, was as Australian as a meat pie. He trained in France while he was on his gap year before taking up his Psychology studies at university, a waste of time as it turned out, the restaurant trade was flowing in his veins now, and he is bloody good at it.
I glanced at him as Charles held out Chandra’s chair for her and slid it forward as she sat down. Henry winked his approval at me.
“What are you two smiling at?” Chandra asked.
“You, I’ve just been given the Henri seal of approval.”
“Do you always bring your young ladies here to impress them?”
“No, only the ones that I want to impress, others are lucky to get Maccas’.”
“I feel honoured. I must find some way of repaying the compliment.” She had this smirk on her face that suggested that I was in for a good night.
After a pleasant dinner with great food, great wine and free-flowing conversation that served to confirm that we were both in for a great night, we arrived at her building.
“Would you like to come in for a coffee?”
“Yes, I most certainly would.”
We never got to the coffee, what we did get to was to a very pleasant evening, until I told her that I would not break my rule never to make love on a first date.
“What? Do you mean to tell me that, after all the work that I’ve put in getting you this far, you’re turning down my offer of the best sex that you’ve ever had?”
“Yes. Now, this is a temporary hiatus, and I will make it up to you when we reach that moment.”
“It had better last longer than a moment, a lot longer.” She had hold of my balls and was squeezing them gently enough, but the threat was there.
“You will have no complaints.” I held her to me as we drifted, but not without Chandra trying to change my mind, off to sleep.
Chandra woke to my tongue doing wondrous things to her nipple and my finger doing equally wondrous things to her pussy.
“Whatever happened to no lovemaking on the first date? Not that I’m complaining I’ll have you know.”
“The first date ended last night. This is today, and it promises to be the best day of your life.”
Some considerable time later; “You were right, it is the best day of my life.” Chandra purred into my ear.
“See, I promised and I delivered.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Aren’t you glad that I intervened yesterday morning?”
“I was dreading what was in store for me until you came along, now I’m glad.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I have a busy day ahead of me.”
“What, camping it up so that some rich old guy will think that it’s safe to leave you alone with his beautiful, young trophy wife?”
“No, nothing like that. A beautiful young-ish widow wants a complete make-over for her trophy house.”