Falling for Veronica

Chapter 1

Brett Chambers (34) was restless. That distinct feeling was not unfamiliar, being six days since he'd last had sex.

He and Mrs Michaels had parted amicably, ending their brief and mutually satisfying relationship. Her husband, a seismic engineering consultant, had been due to return home in a couple of days from working in Peru for eleven weeks.

The final moment for Brett had been memorable. Sylvia stood at the front entrance of the glass-studded steel-framed home cupping her sizeable left breast under her flimsy dress, and sobbed, "I love you."

That made him feel sympathetic for a few moments until he thought she'd get over that quickly. She'd soon be greeting her older husband home, probably being thrown on the bed lustfully.

After all, Sylvia aged 34 was a striking young woman entering her prime, and she knew it. She also was aware that 'everybody' including her parents considered her to be a trophy wife of an internationally lauded engineer, who specialised in consulting on-site development and design of high-rise buildings in earthquake-prone territories.

Brett grinned. Sylvia had often displayed earthquake-like tremors when getting off massively during sex, especially when being banged by him on the dining table domestically during or immediately after dinner or during weekend lunch.

He headed for the Sydney Harbour Bridge to proceed to his bachelor pad in 'the heart of the city', aware it was Friday. Experience had taught him that any time from midday Friday was the prime time of the week to make pre-sex contact with nubile women, and older women, too.

Brett occasionally had sex with older females but he targeted females aged eighteen to thirty, estimated.

He wasn't particularly judgemental about whether they looked ripe for the plucking, because like ripe fruit, the lushest pickings could be a disappointment. If they appeared neat and tidy, they usually were neat and tidy persons, and that was a rough guide, very rough. Oh, and they tended to all appeared fit and sporty in personality,

He focused on the way they initially looked at him. If the look signalled 'admiration', he'd think hello, and guess that she probably possessed at least a smattering of supressed passion behind that flicker of interest. Mutual passion, as almost every adult knew, was a prerequisite for great sex.

After leaving high school, Brett had obtained a degree in journalism with the intention of becoming a wild life photo-journalist travelling the word on highly-paid assignments. But that didn't eventuate. He found that highly paid assignments went to photo-journalists with an international reputation. That meant he'd need to build a reputation in some other branch of journalism and then make the switch to wildlife coverage.

Another early discovery was jobs for photo-journalists in any branch of journalism were hard to come by. He thought bugger, get on with it mate.

Brett became employed as a reporter on a large newspaper after requesting a job interview just as the newspaper was preparing, according to his 'insider' contacts, to launch a recruitment campaign across several departments.

In those days, reporters were prohibited from using a camera by union demarcation demands, meaning he could be either a reporter or a photographer, but not both. That senseless ruling began disappearing as worker unionism lost much of its power from the 1970s.

Advancing in experience and seniority, Brett then found his niche, first as a crime reporter, and three years later as a newspaper social columnist. He left journalism two years ago to become personal assistant to his father in his large construction company. His father was losing personal vitality due to cancer and lasted only five months after Brett came aboard.

Brett's mother decided to sell the business and it was snapped up by multi-national construction company.

Brett's mother gave him, her only surviving child, most of the large amount of money that she gained from sales plus her late husband's ridiculously expensive limo. She moved into in a retirement village saying she wouldn't require much money to live comfortable for the remainder of her life as she had amassed huge money from the sale of the family's home at Kurraba Point overlooking the harbour and across to downtown Sydney.

Happy to receive such a huge windfall, Brett didn't know what to do with it, and so invested most of it and moved to a vacated penthouse on the top floor of the building he lived in after having it extensively remodelled and updated to suit his tastes. He now also owned the apartment building with ground-level shops along its frontage.

Left with little to do, he felt the need to befriend a woman to enter a 'no fuss' relationship, preferable of short duration or perhaps they might weld together for the longer term. Who knew?

* * *

After leaving the classy Mrs Michaels, Brett had been playing golf, tennis, going fishing and playing more golf for several weeks. He'd cleared his mail box in the foyer as he usually did once a fortnight and found a half a dozen bills plus a note dated five days earlier. The note read:

Hi, I'm from Perth and am temporarily renting the Willis' apartment next to yours while they are touring Southern Africa for the next five months. Knock me up for coffee when you return. Veronica Lees.

Knock her up?

He frowned, thinking it was a bit premature using such wording but it suggested that Veronica was of the younger generation than his mother's and friends that were accused of buggering up the language. Then again, she may have loosely used that expression to say he only had to knock and she would come to the door in much the same way someone might casually say 'look me up sometime'.

There were other possibilities, too.

One that he liked was this Veronica may have had the wicked thought that if he looked acceptable, he just might get lucky. Oh, perhaps it was merely a Western Australia idiom that meant something else altogether that was unfamiliar to Aussies living on the east coast, with Sydney being just over 2000 miles from Perth by direct air travel.

There was no answer to his knock and Brett returned and taped a notice to the door inviting Veronica to dinner at 7.00 that evening, and to dress 'however'. He signed the note, 'Charming Brett' and added a postscript 'Please accept.'

He then made a phone order for his weekly food and other household supplies and paid the premium price for delivery within two hours guaranteed.

The courier arrived with Brett's order and said there was a note taped to the door and Brett retrieved it.

When the four boxes from the courier's trolly were on the kitchen bench. Brett signed the delivery form as shipment received being intact and acceptable condition and signed again in the space for confirmation that it had been a timely delivery. Well, delivery in one hour and seven minutes since he'd placed the order was certainly timely, and impressive for delivery in the traffic-congested central metro area.

He smelt the note from the door and nodded, catching the scent of classy perfume that indicated it was from a female who was bound to be Veronica. He was feeling fairly positive about Veronica, despite sight unseen or as question mark hanging over mutual compatibility. The note read:

Hi, we'll meet at 7.00 this evening at last. I'm just back from spending several days exploring an awesome part of Australia beyond the Blue Mountains and really experienced the sense of part of our country's colonial past and something of the hardship farmers experience in such a semi-arid expanse of pretty flat territory. Mind you, much of Western Australia is like that as well.

I enjoyed wonderful hospitality of the Tablelands I think the area is called, that included catching up with three former school friends, all now married with young children. The kids' mothers were my fellow boarders at secondary level schooling at Perth College. Veronica.

Well, well. That short message that possibly placed Victoria and him on the cusp of something good, even spectacular, had told him a something. It suggested she was well educated, expressed herself well, was capable of deserving enduring warm friendship from school-mates. With all three of her school mates married with children, that suggested Veronica could be aged between, err. 24 to 30. Then again that was just a hopeful guess. She could be 40-plus.

She was likely to be 27, he mused, having calculated her as being halfway between aged 24 and 30. She was likely to consider that was puerile thinking, much like pissing into the wind and the peeing person stupidly hoping that it wouldn't be swept back on to him, um , or rather unlikely her.

"Omigod," he marvelled, aloud. "All that thinking connected to a potential fling involving so far merely two skimpy notes? Great Scott!"

Unpacking the delivered boxes, Brett wondered why he was somehow associating Veronica with urinating into the wind? Christ, he mused, his trouble was he spent too much of his time alone while not yet being enfeebled. He needed to find worthy employment.

Fortunately, at that moment, he dropped a jar of olives and caught it just above his feet that changed his thinking into how fit he was, how fast he could react and how well he could catch. OMG, was he distantly related to Superman?

"OMG," he wailed. "Save me from myself."

Brett looked at the wall clock - 6.10.

He called reception.

"Lois, has the night manager arrived yet?"

"Yes, Mrs Simpson has arrived and the day manager is just leaving. I'll put you through to the Mrs Simpson."

"Hi, love," Brenda Simpson said with familiarity, which indicated no one was within earshot. "I guess you would like a massage in the shower tonight?"

"Nah thanks, I have a blind date. What can be tell me about the female who is occupying the Willis' penthouse next to me?"

"Oh, you'll have your hands full if she takes to you. She is their niece Veronica Lees, a former high school and then university State champion in swim and hurdle events and at 19 was runner-up in a Miss Personality Contest in Perth. The winner swapped her prize of 10 days free travel to and around California with paid luxury accommodation with Veronica, who's prize was six days skiing in Queenstown, New Zealand with paid accommodation at a three-star hotel in Queenstown for three nights and three nights at nearby Wanaka."

"Omigod, was the winner an insane loser, down-scaling like that?"

"No, her parents have retired to nearby Nelson and she is a ski nut and usually skis in Japan or the States during the northern hemisphere winter. So, she preferred New Zealand."

"Is this Veronica woman married or accompanied by a guy?"

"No."

"Is she a looker - 'looker' I said."

Brenda giggled.

"Yes, and is physically splendid because of her continuing sporting interests. Now that's all I can tell you. I'm probably already in breach of Australian Privacy Law. Have a lovely time with her. Call me when you want a night massage. Bye."

Brett sat at his desk, shut off all thoughts of bed-ready Miss Veronica Whoever, and punched his by-line into his computer ready to begin his next weekday 'Think Piece' as required by his contract with his former newspaper, 'Metro News' that required him to provide 1500 words each day as a columnist. Yes, he did have a job, one that required a max of 90 minutes a day of research and injection of literary talent in taking up to another 90 minutes to put it all together.

He was five hours away from deadline and Editorial would probably panic at receiving his column so early, but something had just hit his cord, and he was ready to go.

Brett had the obscure feeling he would be on to a winner, addressing a section of society that everyone including himself didn't appear to recognise existed.

There was no way he could know that he was about to plunge into a controversy that would erupt huge class-contentious huge public debate through the media as a result of Brett Chambers' 'timely cord' in support of lonely young women arriving at new locations to build a life, even Sydney.

Of course, Brett had no burning motive to crease the public conscience in that manner. All he had set out to do was to rip off a column while waiting to a date with massively affectionate (hopefully) Veronica from Perth.

He's written a new column to thus avoid using one of his 'non-perishable' columns he had on file in case he suffered food poisoning, was offered a free week skiing in neighbouring New Zealand or was invited the Prime Minister's Department to join the PM and five other selected guests to accompany him on a 6-day fishing safari in Tasmania.

He wrote,

Have you ever thought about Miss Cutie arriving from Beyond the Black Stump, or even from a place much closer to say Sydney as Cunnamulla, getting off the bus or train in a seething mass of week-day moaning humility like Sydney and sensing a can of homesickness was about to tip over her forcing Miss Cutie to groan in despair, WTF?

They surely do.

And it's not fair.

A bloke can just walk into the nearest pub and become the centre of interest and immediately have three choices: Looking at the Fat Bastard's resting his boot on the other side of the aisle and saying aggressively, 'Remove your leg honey or else I'll yank it off your hip... or perhaps he could say he was new in town and who would buy him a beer... or he could simply cry that he was lost, blub and await attention.

In contrast, the last thing that Miss Cutie wants is to attract attention. Her only choice is to wait quietly for a Sallie (Salvation Army Sister) to come along like the 'Legendary Sister Anna carrying the Banner' concept, and to offer Miss Cutie shelter, tucker and prayer opportunity.

Oh, indeed. Equality for Women is being fought in many places, but not on the street...

And on and on Brett rambled, err angled in delivering thoughtfulness by the can load.

Brett had just emailed his column and was thinking kindly of brave and dedicated Sallies when two heavy bangs on his door shattered his spell.

He leaped across to the door to avoid it being damaged by the impatient bastard...

He threw open (figuratively) the door and gasped.

"Christ..."

"No, Veronica."

"Um, oh, hello Veronica"

"What, am I no longer expected?"

"Omigod, you're gorgeous?"

Her response was like a sledge-hammer.

"Are you drunk?"

"C-come in," he managed, and stepped aside.

In she sailed and patted him on the shoulder and said, "Oh I know. In expecting to meet a female from Western Australia, you thought I'd look rather like an Emu, yes?"

"Yes. No, I mean no."

She shook her head gently and said she guessed he really did mean no.

Veronica swept her gaze around the beautifully renovated and furnished lounge beyond the entrance area ands and muttered, "Money but short on brains and charm."

"May I say something?"

She replied yes, helpfully.

"I have just completed my column for a morning newspaper I write for. It is entitled, 'Waifs in Their Country' when you arrived unexpectedly..."

"Expectedly."

"Granted as being correct and therein lies the problem. Your door knock caught me between my literary world of part-fiction, well at least in the sense of creativity and freedom to express myself limited only by my good sense, and reality. Your arrival was indeed reality and me virtually tripping over my feet meant me being caught momentarily in limbo."

"Ah, so that's a perfect example of the word limbo being used in an explanatory sentence?"

"Err, yes and hopefully explains that I'm not unduly without brains and charm?"

"Whoever would say that about you?"

"You did, just moments...

Too late, Brett realized he'd fallen into the trap of the clever bitch.

"Yes?"

"I plead guilty Miss, to listening into your private conversation with yourself."

"You cad; that was suppose to be my line and I was half-hoping to then receive an apology."

"Since the firing up of Women's Rights, which in general I support, I've all but given up on apologizing to females in respect of matters that appear trifling.

"Omigod, is there a stiff drink in the house?"

Brett, back in full control, strode over to the good-looking woman, kissed her on the lips and said welcome to his Sydney, release her and asked, "A dry Vodka Martini or the drink of your choice?"

"Your choice, thanks. You appear to have gained stability of your marbles."

"Ah, well stated," he said, effervescently, laced with a gorgeous well-practised soft smile. "Are you comfortable at boating, Veronica?"

"Yes, our dad has a keeler (sailboat) with five permanent crew. Have you something in mind on the water likely to overly impress?"

"My intent is simply to enjoy a night in style with you as a visitor to Sydney."

Ten minutes they heard one sharp toot of a vessel's horn coming into the landing beside their building. Veronica had arrived back with a wrap, that was appropriately elegant.

They went to the lift (elevator) joining another couple who Brett introduced to Veronica and three other couples from the apartment were already in the lift. All were going boating.

"Nice launch." Veronica said, as they boarded the 80-foot vessel.

Entering the saloon, she gasped when observing the string quartet playing the music was 'live' and the entire interior was set out like a night-club.

They were taken to a table where a couple in their late forties were already seated.

The man rose and upon being introduced as Slim Duckett, kissed Veronica on the hand, watched by his wife who appeared bored by the ritual.

Brett smiled across to her and said hi to Marlene and then slapped her husband on the back and they briefly chatted amicable before sitting.

Marlene kept glancing at Veronica and finally tested the water.

"Are you the swimming champion saxophonist from Western Australia?"

Caught in massive surprise, Veronica said, "I am from Western Australia, yes."

The men waited patiently, both aware that Marlene was a former sports magazine journalist and now owner of that magazine. Much like a dog with a bone, she was noted for never letting go until she got her story or dumped the prospect as not being worth the bother.

"Let me think," Marlene said. "Four years ago, one of the newspapers here in Sydney ran a big page-3 photograph of you, um Lees, yes Veronica Lees, back in the pool. Yes, it was four years ago, the evening of you winning your nineth, tenth and eleventh State swimming championship titles, elated and for the camera you were playing your practice saxophone in the pool with an elated crowd of your supporters in the background, several of them being pushed into the pool fully clothed and screaming in laughter."

"Correct."

"Is that all you have to say, Veronica? After all, West Australia is one of the most difficult venues in the swimming world to win a title because of the intense local competition born and fostered to become tradition from the days when next to no one wanted to go all the way to Perth, thus unleashing resource-rich Western Australia to send its swimmer and other top sportspeople across Australia and to other top sports centres of the world."

Breathing deeply, Veronica said, "Omigod, Marlene. You were speaking of me four years ago, and champions come and go so quickly in swimming. You have an awesome recollection."

"Thanks darling, come over here and swap places with Slim and allow those guys to talk boringly about car racing at their level. Slim has a two-seat vintage English sports car of note that Brett often races with him in longer classic events here and overseas called endurance events, when two drivers are required taking turns at the wheel according to schedules."