Gotta Love Them Cheerios

"The very idea. It was an interesting fantasy. That I'll admit, but...for real? No way!"

"Way! Did she make you cover up straight away? No. Why is that? Think about it, Mom. Just give it some thought and, if the idea grows on you..."

"Ok, ok. I'll think about it. Can we please shut up about it now?" Georgina's shaking her head and smiling at him.

"Sure Mom." Peter rolls onto his back, heedless of the tent pole in his shorts and rests his head on his hands.

"Thank you." Georgina lies back too.

"But I bet Sandy's ass would look really great lowering onto your face."

"Peter!" Georgina's voice has that slow 'shut-the-fuck-up' tone.

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[Excerpt from Georgina's Journal]

Peter really had me going at the beach today. Another woman? Sandy? No, I couldn't.

Peter was really wound up too. He was hard all afternoon and all the way home. When I went to shower – to wash off the sand that always gets into so many places – he 'raped' me again. It's a good job I took the lubricant into the bathroom with me J.

I don't know what I shall do next week when he goes back to Michigan.

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"Come with me." Peter suggested. They were having a romantic dinner on their last night together.

"Pardon?"

"Come to Michigan with me. I'll lease out Dad's house in Jacksonville, you can lease this place and we'll easily be able to afford a house in Ann Arbor."

"You're mad." Georgina couldn't take his suggestion seriously.

"Am I? You can use your maiden name. This is the twenty first century: nobody will bat and eyelid."

"You are mad! What would I do about work?"

"You can find a job there. Trust me. You'll really stand out from the crowd in the mid west. They'll be queuing up for your classes once word gets out you can look this good at 36."

"But-"

"Mom, I didn't quite level with you about what Dad left me. His business interests... Well, a couple of years ago he bought an option on a tract of real estate near Jacksonville. They're building a mall on it."

"So? Your father bought and sold several options while we were married. They never amounted to much."

"He didn't sell this one. The investors approached him – made him a really good offer for the option – but Dad wanted in on the project. That parcel of land bought him 3.5%. Do you have any idea what 3.5% of a successful mall will yield when the place is finished? The leases on several hundred thousand square feet of retail space? Mom, Dad's accident has set me up for life. If neither of us ever does another day's work, we won't starve."

"I don't want anything of his! I-"

"You already have. I couldn't have been here all summer without the money I inherited. Anyway, it isn't his money anymore. It's mine and I want to use it to keep us together." Peter put down his glass, got up from the table and knelt at his Mom's side, taking her hand as if about to propose. "Tell me you'd rather that we lived hundreds of miles apart."

"You know I don't want that." Georgina's eyes were welling up.

"Then come with me to Michigan... or anywhere else. It doesn't matter what name you use once we're away from here. If we checked into a motel, we both have ID that says we're Mr and Mrs Robinson. D'you think we can't pass for husband and wife?"

"Oh, my darling boy." Georgina reached out to stroke his cheek. It was as moist as hers. "Can we really make it work?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But I do know we can try." He kissed her. She kissed him back. Dinner went cold while they clung to each other.

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[Excerpt from Georgina's journal]

It's weird sleeping in an empty house. All the furniture went into storage today. I'm on a camp bed tonight and on the road tomorrow. After three weeks apart from Peter I know why I have to go to Michigan.

This will be my last journal entry as Georgina Robinson. Tomorrow I'm going to start a new one as Georgina Clayton.

I wonder if I'll be able to sleep at all tonight.

----------------------------

Georgina Clayton walked tentatively with her boyfriend's hands over her eyes and her arms outstretched to fend... outstretched pointlessly. She knew she could trust him not to walk her into a post or a clump of poison ivy.

Peter stopped her and moved tight up behind her. Georgina could feel that he was excited too. They'd been apart for nearly a month: of course he was excited. Without warning, he uncovered her eyes. She blinked at the sudden sunlight then at the house Peter had rented for them.

"Oh Peter! Can we really afford this?" There was at least twice as much real estate in front of her as she'd ever lived in.

"Easily. We'll need to get your furniture shipped to help fill it. There is a brand new Emperor size bed upstairs though. Wanna help me christen it?"

"You don't usually bother to ask." She turned in his arms and shut him up.

Eventually, they made it through the front door. Georgina explored while Peter unloaded the stuff she couldn't live without from the station wagon. With all the bags and boxes piled in the hall and the door finally closed, Peter called out.

"Georgina!"

"Is there any hot water? I need a shower."

Peter looked up at Georgina, completely naked at the top of the stairs.

"Sure. Lots."

"Good." She turned and walked back along the landing, conscious of Peter's eyes following her bottom.

-----------------------------

Peter, true to form had joined her in the shower. Afterwards, they'd 'christened' the huge new bed... and the kitchen counter.

Having no groceries, they'd called out for pizza and were munching their way through a Mexican Meatball Feast in front of a portable television.

"Oh! I forgot! I bought you a gift." Georgina untangled herself from Peter's arms and scampered out to the hall to rummage in the boxes.

"What is it?" Peter asked as she returned with a small package wrapped in blue tissue.

"Open it and see." Georgina handed him the package and nestled back against him while he tore at the paper.

"Jules' wallet! Cool!" Peter kissed her hard and fast. "Thanks. It's great. Really great."

"I know you like Pulp Fiction because it was two of the posters I had to take down in your old room. This-" She gestured at the wallet in his hand. "Seemed more than a little appropriate."

Peter admired the embossed words on the leather. "'BAD MOTHER FUCKER'. That's me!"