A Woman with Mongrel Ch. 02

The lips parted further as she said, "If you're that interested, investigate."

Harry, in a grey suit, grey turtleneck and light charcoal slip-ons, walked over and staring into her eyes lifted up her skirt and then slipped that hand on to her thigh.

"Oh, excuse me," said Sara, back-tracking but not looking away.

Harry's good hand dropped as if it had been shot.

"Come in, Sara. Harry had the need to explore me."

Harry looked at Carson aghast, and glancing at Sara was aware she was similarly embarrassed. My god, he thought, this women has become truly possessed.

"Bodies should be fondled when there is mutual sexual attraction, don't you think Sara."

It seemed Sara didn't know what to think, but her chin lifted and she said, "Are you two getting much sex?"

The whites of Harry's eyes showed; there were three entrances to the room and he looked desperately at all three.

"I think I hear Lydia," he said, fleeing as braying laughter erupted behind him.

In the SUV when Carson was backing down the drive, her body twisted to peer up the street before turning out, Harry's question was answered: he had a great view of the tops of thigh highs.

"Sara -- she seems to be maturing in front of our eyes."

"She has a lover, Harry."

"Um, with your consent?"

"She's eighteen, Harry. She doesn't require my consent."

"Um, I suppose, um, she talks to you about it?"

"Only since I confronted her; Lisa gave me the word."

"You mean, Sara and Lisa's Jenni? Oh God."

"No Harry, Sara and Jenni's girl friend's older brother."

"Oh."

"Lisa is so pleased that it's Jimmy, saying she wouldn't mind a piece of him herself."

"She'd joking, of course."

"Not Lisa, Harry. She becomes very focused about sex. She was an old hand at it by the time I was deflowered."

"Do they still use that term?"

"I don't really know, but I do."

"Used it that sense it sounds heroically romantic."

"A man would think that way, Harry -- but in fact I was eager to be deflowered because I was nineteen and becoming desperate."

"Lisa allows this Jimmy guy and Sara to do it in her house?"

"She has a cabana down at the pool, like us, but their pool is down a bank from the house, so the setting is very discreet. It's a wonder Lisa hasn't invited you over to see her cabana, Harry. She hasn't maintained her notoriety by being chaste."

"No? Um, could we switch the subject? We're almost there and I don't wish to walk in...um...walk in."

"Walk in with a tent pole you mean?"

"Carson!"

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Now don't drink too much over lunch as you'll have some tough negotiating to do afterwards."

"No."

"No what?"

"You won't need me. They'll say here's the registered valuation and here's the sale and purchase agreement, exactly how you wanted it and here's the money; sign and it's all yours and then we'll go back for more drinks."

"Never, Harry. These guys are tough."

"You're wrong, Carson. They've been told what to do by me, and know that I was correct in everything I said, and now they've been told what to do by their wives, your friends. It will be a two minute signing session, Carson."

Turning into parking lot, Carson involuntarily showed more stocking top. "You're too used to making things happen as a creative author, Harry. You're dealing with reality here and looking at it through tinted glasses."

The signing meeting lasted all of two minutes. Harry didn't bother going in with Carson, despite her anxious protest.

Megan Satterthwaite, Crystal Quirk and Lisa Doig gathered round him and gave their thanks for Carson's miraculous rehabilitation.

"Miraculous?" commented Harry.

"Yes," said Megan, who'd offered that particular phrase.

"She was a dying swan when she met you; now look at her."

"But I've done nothing towards her recovery, as you put it."

"It's where you've being putting it," Lisa snickered.

"You've given her new purpose for living, Harry," Crystal said. "She's absolutely captivated by your writing and enamored by Jessie Chicago who came to Carson at her greatest moment of need -- you are Carson's hero, Harry. Women may have one lover, or they may have a dozen or perhaps their lover's love is all but extinguished or has terminated for whatever reason. At the same time, Harry, all women yearn for a hero -- for some it becomes their daddy, perhaps a university lecturer or figurehead of immense community standing. Carson has it all -- she'd had her hero and lover bundled in one."

"You guys have had too much to drink," snorted Harry. "I'm a nobody except that I write crap that appeals to a few thousand readers latching on to the way I express my thoughts and create my characters. That's all it is. Jessie, I mean Carson came to me, feeling sorry for me because she'd whacked my car into tomorrow and messed up my writing arm, so I provided a little diversion for her. Okay, along the way she rediscovered her horniness and I happened to be the nearest guy on hand, so was treated. I'm grateful to her and hope I can find the right guy for her and Lydia and..."

"You're wrong, you dickhead," grinned Lisa, interrupting him. "Here she comes. Just watch what she does. I'm Carson's oldest friend, and stood closest to her after the tragic loss of her husband and lover; I know how she reacts."

They watched Carson approached as Lisa finished, click-clacking her elegant heels on the tiles. She waved to them happily.

"Just you watch, Mr Smart-ass Author who doesn't recognize love when confronted by it," Lisa murmured.

"It's all over and I offered the partners the capital to build the new production line at one percent under the commercial interest rate; they've accepted."

Her friends and Harry raised their near empty glasses in salute.

Carson smiled at everyone and walked through the women. She reached up and kissed Harry on the lips, then standing beside him, pulling his good arm around her, said, "Who's breaking open the champagne?"

"We don't have champagne," said Megan, who worked with the firm as office manager.

"Oh yes we do," said Carson happily, as she called out "Bruce!" The door opened and in walked the factory manager with a case of French champagne.

Carson grinned at Harry. "Your thinking is so superior to mine, Harry. The meeting went exactly as you predicted." Then she whispered, "I'll buy some garter belts if that's what you want. Jessie always wears them, doesn't she?"

Harry beamed and kissed her.

Later, when buying a black and a blue garter belt, and agreeing with the assistant who said, "They're only worth wearing to please your man, aren't they", Carson had a thought at the other end of the spectrum of garter belts and sex -- her mother.

Tragically, her mother had heard about her daughter's unexpected house guest, and in typical sneaky fashion had called Lisa to worm information -- the worst possible choice. Lisa would have gushed on about Harry's looks and age and how Carson was nuts about him -- a typical Lisa expression that would have made Mrs George immediately speculate about the involvement of Harry's nuts with her younger daughter. Her mother had refused to come over and meet Harry and slammed down the phone when Carson had said she'd bring Harry over. Carson had anticipated her mother would disapprove of Harry being a writer of 'dirty books', looking 'grubby' and 'being too old'. Mothers were expected to be defensive, but not like this -- for goodness sake, her critical mom hadn't even met the man.

"Fuck mom!"

"Omigod," cried Carson, thrusting a hand over her mouth.

The woman behind the counter smiled and asked if Carson was also having mother trouble.

"I am too. She discovered I have two guys on the go and hasn't spoken to me for three days which is difficult 'cos I still live at home."

That made Carson feel a little better, knowing she wasn't the only adult woman having mother problems.

Carson went to a quite café on the riverbank, not too far from home; she had some serious thinking to do. Her life had turned, undeniably, and she was pleased about that. But was the turn in the right direction?

Knowing that she was going to have this serious conversation with herself Carson ordered a glass of quality dry white wine. She had stored milk at home for Lydia, so she planned to have a break out, drinking two perhaps three glasses, but no more because she was driving. She needed wine to relax her -- well that sounded plausible. She liked drinking and missed having the occasional binge; it really did loosen her tongue. She felt in a playful mood, calling this period 'One of my finest hours' -- that it, the time she was away from everyone and everything yet knowing Lydia was safe. For a nursing mother it really was 'quality time', the expression some people tend to bandy about as if under-rating it.

She pulled out her small notebook and wrote some notes under headings.

MOM: Gathering age had sharpened her tongue and narrowed her mind and she has to think for both herself and husband. She loves Lydia and Carson and Bronwyn in that order, Carson suspected, but how does one really know? Mom hates sleaze, she hates surprises and she's always wanted her daughters to fall in love and be loved by a younger, handsome, socially very acceptable and rich man -- one man per daughter, that is. Mom had not anticipated a daughter losing her husband. Mom had highly respected Philip. Oh boy, watch out Harry.

The wine arrived and Carson took a deep draught. Marvelous. Now to real work.

If Harry becomes a universally accepted author in the genre of detective romance, Mother could become hooked!!!! And may allow him to visit her.

HARRY: Laughs, loves Lydia, loves Carson (I think), Sara would like a piece of him, Lisa definitely does and no doubt Bronwyn will. Why? Good question. A light shines out of his shabby appearance? Yes, good one. Harry really is a surprise package. Unbelievable great at sex [Carson looked around, embarrassed that someone may have seen her write that. Really -- how childish!] She noted that she was at her best making love to Harry. Harry's going to leave me.

Coolly, Carson picked up her glass and sipped. She had no idea why she'd written that. It must be a thought that lurked deep. She remained emotionally in control, knowing if it did happen she'd probably be hysterical, but that was another day. Right now it was just a thought, albeit a brutal thought. She squirmed in her seat, feeling her briefs cut into her, wishing she'd not worn them. God, that would make Mother sit up and take notice of her younger daughter!!!

Okay, Harry. If that's what you want to do, go! I'll not like it, but go!

JESSIE: What a babe. Why am I using that word? So what if Diomedes uses that term as an endearment. I really don't have to pretend I am Jessie Chicago, though admittedly it has been a great prop for me. But why do I want to be someone who I am not? It's codswallop to believe I can replicate Jessie Chicago. Perhaps intellectually I could be more than her match, but sexually and especially physically she lives on another planet. I must say, however, that focusing on her I have brought my mongrel to the surface. I really believe in mongrel, now that Harry has been the trigger and I've felt the power within me. I hope I keep it under control.

THE DOIG'S: Do I want to continue with them, yes I do-I-do. I'm sure Philip shafted Lisa, more than once possibly, and possibly at her invitation. That's grim, but then she off-sets that in other ways. I always knew she was predatory. Thank God I've never allowed Peter more than a quick grope; he can be such a sleaze-ball. Yes, stay with them as friends. Get too choosy and you'll soon have no friends.

MONEY: The good think about my indifference towards money (providing I have cash on hand) is that becoming a multi-millionaire has not changed me a bit, just as I had predicted. The secret is not to talk money, with anyone. Remember your advice girl!!!!

The waitress appeared with the bottle and a fresh glass.

Carson asked, "Are you married?"

"Yes ma'am, happily married."

"That's lovely, you look the perfect wife."

"None of us is perfect, ma'am."

"Quite right. Well, good luck with your marriage."

"Thank you ma'am, there is no charge for this drink. It's lovely having a sweet person like you are our restaurant."

"Your restaurant."

"Yes, I am Paulo second wife."

"He has two?"

"You're sweet and funny, ma'am. My name is Acacia."

"Acacia, have you ever heard of Jessie Chicago?"

"Is there any woman who hasn't?"

"You'll enjoy meeting my man, Acacia. I am Carson Robertson by the way."

"Yes, I know who you are. Is your man Diomedes Mantell?" laughed Acacia.

"You don't know how close you are. I'm delighted you took the time to talk to me Acacia -- I'm really not as lonely as perhaps I look."

TO BE CONTINUED...