Peyton Finds Her Place

"I feel this is a great book even if it doesn't sell as well as we anticipate," Peyton said. "I believe it is a social crutch for confused parents and parents who cannot cope with their teenagers. The academic excellence of this publication is worthy of recognition from Raymond's academic peers."

"Oh Peyton, how magnificent you are. Please meet my family. This is my daughter, Adele. My son Rodell, where is my son?"

"Here mother. Don't allow your Gallic passion to overrun your ability to scan the room for the whereabouts of your only and favorite son."

"Hi Adele, I'm Peyton Roach-Simpson. Hi Rodell," Peyton added, her knees turning weak as she looked at the tall, dark and wiry son of perhaps thirty. She felt her pussy pulsating, or imagined she did.

"Oh here you are," Rodell said. "I was looking around this packed room for the woman I felt the need to meet and here you are talking to my parents."

"I...," Peyton said, and all system appeared to shut down.

"Rodell," said his mother. "Back off. You are crowding this young woman."

"It's f-fine Mrs Upton. T-there are so many people in here. The air is depleting."

"Bullshit," said Rodell.

"Rodell," said his mother." Take Peyton out immediately into the fresh air."

As Rodell pushed Peyton through the mass he asked, "Are you pregnant?" and caught Peyton as she fell.

Peyton's eyes opened and she found herself on Rodell's knees. They were on a bench seat outside.

"No."

He smiled and asked what was no?

She said she was answering his question was she pregnant.

Aware there had been a delay because she'd fainted he smiled and asked was she on conception protection and she said yes.

"It's nice being on your bony knees," she smiled.

He kissed her.

She pulled his head down and they were soon big into French kissing.

She pulled down her panties and he sunk into her and was soon grunting. He was fine but only okay and Peyton wanted someone who was better than just okay. When he stood up she jumped up high into his arms and he pushed back into her and they were away again, she confirming he was okay although rather good at doing it standing up.

Peyton returned him to his mother who looked at her son who looked a wreck and looked at Peyton who looked very much in top shape his mom marveled, "Omigod."

Peyton excused herself and left to avoid the embarrassment of possibly receiving an indecent proposition from Rodell's mom.

Regrettably, after another dozen young men had passed through Peyton's arms she realized she had failed in her quest to become settled with a guy. The males had been less than appealing or they'd just wanted a woman, perhaps any woman, to fuck. It had been such a waste of time although it most cases the sex had been okay.

She packed to leave home thanked her mom for being so kind when she suggested Peyton could have a three-month extension.

"No mom, dad would have kittens if he learned you'd made such an offer. You'll remain happy without me being around when you are doing what you like doing with your girlfriends."

"Omigod, you know?"

"Yes. How long has it been going on?"

"I've preferred women for most of my adult life and your father doesn't mind because he says he's never been really interested in having sex. He prefers reading or going to work."

"Oh mom what a bore for you. I hope you catch up with some very exiting women."

CHAPTER 2

Peyton Roach-Simpson's New York arrival from Boston was inauspicious because she didn't know anyone in arguably America's greatest city but Peyton knew people who thought that hadn't been to Burlington, Vermont, where her maternal grandparents lived. Because she didn't know anyone she had no one to meet her and the taxi driver didn't attempt to rip her off and ignored her because he didn't appear to speak English.

The room in a shared apartment she'd secured off the Internet was better than she'd expected and her two female flatmates who were specialist nurses were from Ireland and Spain and their English was almost incomprehensible at first to the new arrival. But they got by and communication improved over time.

"We are lovers," Bronte said, clasping a dainty arm around the waist of the huge-breasted Spanish woman Adora."

"That's all right by me," Peyton smiled.

"So you wish to join us?" said Adora.

It took Peyton a few minutes to sort that one out. During that discussion she had to cope with Adora saying if Peyton wanted men she would find her some and asked what size penis did Peyton prefer.

Peyton ended up thinking being in New York certainly was a step up from living in Boston and perhaps no citizen in Burlington, Vermont had ever been asked about his or her penis size preference.

Next day she went to a large publishing house with a letter of introduction but the PR manager said they had no vacancies for manuscript editors.

"But I need a job."

"Don't we all darling?" the woman said, glancing furtively at Peyton's body. Well yes, Peyton thought, perhaps she would have to become a hooker for gay women.

But the woman offered something. "Darling why don't you try this back street publisher.

She scribbled out an address.

"You mean an outfit that publishes porn?"

"No dear. They this publisher I'm recommending is small and not particularly successful so cannot afford to locate in premium locations like this."

Peyton took the elevator to the street thirty-seven floors down and wondered what was premium about locating in an impersonal, drab monolith like that building. She wondered what it would be like having sex with New York women and would they pay well.

She stood outside a warehouse conversion that looked partly abandoned. There was no elevator and she walked up to the third to the offices of Geoff Ryan Publishing and the woman behind the reception desk who looked to be 106 said, "What do you want? I'm the cleaner filling in for Bess and you'll have to speak up because I'm deaf."

"Mr Ryan please."

"Who are you?"

"Peyton."

"Just a moment. She called into a phone, "Mr Ryan, Peyton is here to see you."

She frowned and said to Mr Ryan, "How would I know Peyton who? Come out and get her."

Oh god, Peyton giggled silently, thinking she was in Mickey Mouse Land.

A guy her age came through the doorway frowning, pulling his hand away from scratching his nuts. He looked at Peyton's tits and smiled, looked at her face and his smile broadened.

""Hi Peyton."

"Hi Geoff."

"So you two do know each other," said the cleaner/receptionist. "You could have said so."

Geoff followed Peyton into his office, walking so close to her that she expected to feel his fingers sink into his butt any moment. She stopped abruptly and he slammed into her and grabbed under her breasts to stop her falling. She grinned, aware he was very good looking.

"Oh I do apologize," he said.

"It was my fault. I stopped to be told where to sit."

"Oh."

"Your arm."

"Oh," he said, releasing her.

"I haven't enjoyed a cuddle like that for quite sometime," Peyton said airily, taking the chair he indicated.

"I assure you I'm not..."

"Hush, I said I enjoyed it," Peyton said, surprised at her forwardness. Well she really did want a job.

"Well Peyton..."

"I'm Peyton Roach-Simpson, just arrived from Boston to settle. I'm twenty-nine with a masters in English Lit, have never married and in my short working life have worked in literature, preliminary editing of manuscripts actually. I'm here to work for you if you are interested and here's a letter of introduction from my immediate-past publisher."

"Well I never."

"Never what?"

"I'd take you for a struggling writer wishing to become published."

"No if I were a writer I'd go to one of the international publishing houses."

Geoff looked quite hurt and she smiled at him and he said coffee. That told Peyton she was in with a chance.

She nodded and he made the call for coffee.

Peyton knew it was up to her to make the breakthrough.

"What are your interests Geoff?"

He looked at her breasts and she smiled and he said, "Anything to do with the fine arts, mainstream films, eating out and my dad and I jointly own a keelboat and a passion is golf, er social golf."

"Golf?"

His eyes flickered and Peyton thought touchdown.

"Do you play golf?"

"Now and then these days but at college I was one of the top females."

"Really?"

"Yes and I like art galleries but generally not museum, sex photography, movies, eating out."

God she'd said sex and she looked at Geoff who appeared confused about whether he'd actually heard her say that.

"Um did you just say sex?"

Christ he was brave to ask her straight out like that.

"Oh god. Well if you heard me say that I must have said that. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You didn't name sex as one of your top interests."

"Um people don't usually...."

"Are you evading answering Geoff?"

He squirmed and she though well that's cancels out the touchdown.

"Moving on," he said ominously.

She eyed his overflowing desk.

"Do you personally review all edited manuscripts?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't you prefer to hand over that responsibility to someone?"

He almost scowled. "For instance you?"

"Yes now that you've mentioned it. Perhaps a two-month trial?"

He rubbed his chin and she thought touchdown.

He looked almost forty. "Are you married?"

"Divorced."

"Is there someone new?"

"Not yet. Look I don't think..."

"Then it would be quite appropriate you asking me for a date if I were your personal assistant."

His eyes appeared to glaze. He shook his head and said could they please keep their discussion at a business level.

He grumped, "Let's talk."

"Certainly Geoff. Shoot."

Two hours later he invited Peyton to lunch with his father, who was also Geoff and founder of the company and had sold a half share of his company to his son.

Geoff Snr looked at Peyton thoroughly but dispassionately, rather like looking at the breeding lines of a horse, she thought.

Their drinks arrived and he asked Peyton questions about horse racing, investment markets, the publishing markets, authors and top selling books, her favorite choices at restaurants, cars, and music and theatre. In the meantime young Geoff just listened respectfully his father and to Peyton answering the questions.

When he appeared finished she said, "That was a thorough testing of my social suitability Mr Ryan and I guess my CV and references told you what you might want to know of I'm to become a personal assistant with editing skills to your son. You might also care to hear that I played women's golf at top level when I was at college when I played on a 5-handicap, and in Boston when a teenager I was regional junior schoolgirl water-ski runner-up champion one year and champion the following year and I love hiking, ski well and play a reasonable game of tennis."

"You are an impressive young lady. My son is free to hire you. Not let's get back to yachting. Geoff and I co-own a Beneteau 46 that was purchased new."

"Oh a sleek cruiser. Do you have the two aft cabin option or did you go for the 3-cabin layout?"

"The twin. My thinking is the fewer people you take away on a boat the more comfortable it is."

"That's good thinking. We have a friend who has the same yacht. They are beautifully fitted out and the inventory is awesome. I really like how the design allows considerable natural light penetration into the saloon."

"Young lady it's great hearing a young woman speak knowledgeably about yachts. You must come out with us on a Sunday for a family sail."

"I'd like that Mr Ryan."

As Geoff junior and Peyton were walking back to the office she said, "Well am I hired?"

"I don't know. Dad and I were thinking we'd have to get another senior editor to handle our increase in business and to ease the workload on me but you have presented us with a difference option. I need to talk to him."

The signals were there. She was not required as his assistant.

"My apartment is not far from here. Would you like to have a drink there and talk?"

Peyton sighed and thought not way would she have sex with a man who was under the thumb of his father like this. He looked promising but deep down was a wet.

"Some other time Geoff. I have to be somewhere else in thirty minutes," she lied. "You have my number. I must be off."

He attempted to kiss her on the lips but she turned away and his lips landed on her cheek.

"I'll work on dad, I promise. I'll call you in a few hours."

She waited twenty-four hours with her cell phone left on and received no call.

"Fucking men," she swore and that evening hearing her two flatmates screaming in bed she grinned and thought, fucking over-sexed women.

Peyton secured work first as a waitress and then as a floor assistant in a bookshop and after a month at this low paid and menial work felt New York was grinding her down.

"Head west you stupid bitch, you ought to have never left Boston," she wept, sitting on a seat in a tiny park. A passing woman came back and handed Peyton a ten dollars, smiled and continued on her way.

Peyton was horrified and really burst into tears.

Next morning when the girls had left the apartment and Peyton aware she still was in advance with rent by three weeks, packed her bags and left a note saying she was quitting New York and hoped the girls found a replacement for her very soon. At the train station she purchased a ticket that she thought would get her about eight hours away from New York, scene of her failure to relocate but she guessed over the years huge numbers of other people had shared that experience.

* * *

With a population of 38,000 in the middle of practically nowhere, Peyton thought Benyon City could be a fitting place in which a non-descript person like her could disappear. She took a bed in a rooming house and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning the wind was howling, stirring up the dust. Peyton sighed and went back to bed and slept till mid-afternoon.

She walked down Main Street where people were sweeping away the last signs of dust and some of them smiled at her while guys hurrying about their business leered at her and well-dressed women looked at her searchingly as if thinking she was far too pretty and well-dressed to be in this city. Peyton knew her mind had manufactured that thought but nevertheless she felt her spirit lift.

She went into a pizza parlor for pizza and coffee and noticed the sign, 'Staff Wanted' but thought she had money and the time to aim higher.

Peyton picked up a well-thumbed copy of the Benyon Bugle from an adjoining copy to search for job opportunities. In the classified section a double column box, one of several, leapt out at her. The Benyon Bugle was seeking a sub-editor to head its team of three sub-editors. Peyton felt she would be in with a chance, having worked as deputy-editor of her college's student newspaper for two years, serving the last six months as acting editor after the editor was expelled from college for drug dealing. The city was a dump, the newspaper was dull and crappy and what journalists of note would want to settle in a dustbowl in the fall?

The editor was in his early thirties, around her age. She hoped he wasn't under the thumb of his father but during the interview learned his widowed mother owned the newspaper. Well that could mean he was under her fist.

Dave Finch said she had no newspaper experience and Peyton said hotly what about her college newspaper experienced and he just smiled, making her want to throttle that smile from his face.

"What about my editing experience from working six years on book manuscripts?"

"That was preliminary editing."

"Where all the graft is done," she said icily and withdrew her claws when she saw him nod thoughtfully.

"Are you running away from something?"

"My need to get out of the rut of living and working from home. I tried New York but was overwhelmed."

He nodded sympathetically and he said he had a similar problem with his mother until she decided to relocate in Florida.

Peyton smiled sympathetically and thought he'd noted that.

"What do you think of our newspaper?"

"The content is good but the overall appearance is a bit crappy."

Dave's jaw lifted but he said, "That's a considered observation."

"My thinking is your staff are probably under-developed and you are spending time training them and perhaps doing some of the reporting yourself or at least re-rewriting and filling in pieces. That effort diverts you from the things editors should be focused on. I should know because on our student newspaper that's what my editor and I had to do."

"You're hired."

"What? You haven't interviewed me in depth yet and there has been no discussion about terms and conditions although I concede you'll be aware of that."

"Yep and I cringe knowing every morning when our subscribers pick up their newspapers some of them will be thinking what's in this pile of crap this morning? You need a job and I need a chief sub-editor. I need someone on my team who is noticeable intelligence, unafraid and has vision."

"I have vision?" Peyton asked in surprise.

"I believe so. I honestly believe I saw you thinking you could shape the Bugle into a modern-looking newspaper."

"Well I had been thinking that."

"See and you think you don't have vision? I have people on this newspaper who are interested in pay day and nothing much else. They know what they did today and probably have some recall about what they did yesterday but they don't care a fuck about... oh god, sorry."

"Carry on. The word fuck is in my vocabulary."

He smiled apologetically and Peyton thought what a nice man. "Well they don't care about what they will be doing tomorrow because they simply have never been taught to think that way."

"I suggest this city is rather isolated and that could have a bearing on local attitudes."

"What? Oh yes, good thinking. So are you accepting?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get the paperwork done. Where are you staying?"

"Sunrise Rooming House."

"Good god, that dump. I'll call my aunt. She let's out rooms because she enjoys extra company. Uncle Ralph doesn't talk much and disappears out to help on the ranch he sold to his son."

"I'll live with you is that's a possibility."

That hugely embarrassed Dave who muttered he was living with a partner at present.

Peyton moved quickly. "Actually I mean to rent a room, not to sleep with you."

He looked even more embarrassed. She giggled and finally he grinned and said she was like a breath of fresh air.

Dave's Aunt Alice just adored Peyton from the moment she met her and gushed, "Just call me Aunt Alice like Dave does. Oh darling you are the spitting image of the daughter I never had."

That told Peyton life would never be dull around Aunt Alice and privacy would be an unknown concept to the woman. What a reversal from her feeling of overwhelming anonymity when in New York!

"Omigod, just look at your hair and makeup. Can you teach me how to use make-up like you do and how to do my hair properly?"

"I believe I could."

"But Peyton would need a good model."

"Back you go to your bland newspaper young man," said his aunt, eyes narrowing.

Peyton had the feeling the well-built although elderly woman could throw a huge punch.

Dave smiled and left for the office. As they watched him drive off Aunt Alice said, "Dave would have been just right for your darling but unfortunately his preference is not for women."

"But a woman lives with him," Peyton said a little bewildered.

"He lives with sweet-looking guy who is an engineer at City Hall."

"You mean a male?"

"Yes and that's what guys usually are. Those two are as gay as bull yearlings darling."

Peyton sighed and thought what a screwed up world she lived in.