Freddie and Lucy Find Love

There was a moment's silence before Wendy cried, "That last bit is a lie."

"I do like to tease."

John took charge. "Lucy, this is…"

"I know thanks John. We introduced ourselves earlier this afternoon. Come on, Freddie, let's chase after that drink. There's only one decent bar in this region other than at the Country Club."

They walked out, leaving John and the five female ad reps – two more had come back to the office – standing with mouths agape.

"She's never had anything to do with a man since being ditched last Fall," said Stella. "This guy is bound to be good with the ladies but he'll be working uphill to sell any ads."

"I've news for you Bubba," John said, using Stella's nickname. "In the four hours since seeing Mrs West he's sold 177 column centimeters which is equivalent to 1.75 pages."

"Ohmigod, what a find," said Stella, and John said his new man had certainly made an illustrious start.

"But he'd not good enough to melt Lucy's cold, cold heart," Stella said, watching John rubbing his ugly little beard and wearing the look as if he was undecided about her prediction.

x x x x x

Lucy bought Freddie his beer and a Martini; she was pleased he didn't make a fuss like many men and insist on paying as if all women were destitute or fearful of spending on demon drink.

"Cheers – may I ask how old you are?"

"Twenty-six."

"That's an overly long stay at college."

"I toured Europe for two years after graduating. How old are you?"

That question was impertinent, thought Lucy and before she could decide whether to change the subject or lie she heard herself saying, "Thirty."

"A nice age."

A nice age? She thought what a ridiculous statement to make to a woman who'd had two rather patchy love affairs and then when she finally found Mr Dreamboat he up and broke off their engagement, leaving her for the slut she caught him humping in the back seat of his car. There was her voice going again, acting on reflex: "What do you mean a nice age?"

"It's when a woman is into her prime, her cheeks are full and rosy, her butt is still tight and her uplift is the best it's ever been and she walks with confidence, talks with authority and mostly she has her mood swings under control."

"How does one so young – and a male at that – know this?" Lucy asked, feeling her face warm and thinking, the crafty bastard – he's out to fuck me!

"I've always read a lot, especially books and websites discussing human behavior, which is why I found myself becoming quite adept at dealing with people, in particular bolstering the confidence of nervous people and those unsure about what confronts them. I was so interested in this that I took psychology as an additional study at college.

"What did you major in?"

Oh, he's smooth – he's taken the spotlight off himself and landing it on me which allows him to look at me closely. The jerk, he's focused on my boobs.

Calming herself, Lucy decided to bring him to heel. "Why are your staring at my breasts?"

He didn't flinch and the reply made her blink. "You are wearing a thin dress and you appear almost braless, there is no sign of seams. So I wondered whether you are in a Macpherson or a Le Mystere seamless but then as you turned I saw the outline of a reasonably wide shoulder strap so changed my mind to a Chantelle."

"Are you one of these bra-wearing guys we read about?"

"Me? No way. My parents operate an emporium and I've worked in all departments since a young teenager. Although I sold bras I never fitted them, although being invited to a few times, usually by giggly girls but not always. The truth is I am an admirer of bra technology – it is so sophisticated and after all these years continues to develop."

"Bra technology, you're not interested in what they contain?"

With satisfaction Lucy watched Freddie turn crimson. To her that indicated he was not a weirdo.

"If you must know I'm in a Wacoal iBra. I vary styles, have some dresses with shelf bras and sometimes I go without. I tend to wear what fits the mood and going without at times is good for my health."

"You have a lovely pair."

He said it so beautifully that Lucy blushed with pleasure, rather than embarrassment. She decided she'd let him have her, if that's what he wanted. She hoped it wasn't what he wanted this evening because men who wanted in on the first date were carnivores in her opinion. Anyway, this wasn't a date...it was…building staff relations. He bought her another Martini and had one himself.

All his questions from then on were about the newspaper. She knew he would be working to ask, "Where's your father?"

But no, just like the lust thought she imagined he had for her, Freddie didn't venture down that path to be told about her run-away parent. Finally he looked at his watch and said, "I must go and meet my new landlady."

"I'll drop you off."

"No, it's fine. I'll either walk or take a cab."

"Where do you wish to go?"

"Twenty-four Apple Blossom Lane."

"Lucy smiled – come on, I'll take you. No arguing."

She liked his strong handsome, unlined face though it was freckled and the blue eyes were warm with a slight mocking look to them. He had a body to die for so must work out and eat well to enhance body shape. His waist and hips were so slender – he'd have a great butt for sure. Perhaps he'd join her gym and they could work out at partners; he could then gaze at her sports bra as well as her legs – everyone told her she had great legs.

"I'll come in with you," Lucy said.

"You know my landlady?"

"Yes – where is your luggage?"

"Oh fuck…ooops, sorry. In a security locker at the station, I'll fetch it later."

Lucy went ahead of him and called out, "Hello, it's Lucy."

"Lucy darling," said a tall graying man coming to the door.

"Hi, Uncle Ted – this is Auntie Barb's new house-guest, Freddie Redding."

"Hi, Freddie, I live here under someone's thumb. Please call me Ted. We've had an enthusiastic report about you from Barbara's sister Dora."

"Sisters? Then Mrs West has two sisters?"

"No, mom has three sisters – you'll meet Alison in due course as she runs the Country Club."

"Hello, my darling," oozed a high personality, red-dyed headed rotund woman who swept from inside the house to seize Lucy and kiss her noisily. She turned and saw Freddie and said, "Oh my, just look at you – the perfect partner for our Lucy."

"Aunt Barb, go to your room immediately," giggled Lucy, not at all embarrassed and Freddie thought at last he'd landed on his feet – with a job of sorts and a good home and a promising circle of interesting people to befriend.

"I didn't know you'd met Aunt Dora. Oh, of course, you went in to inspect her display of bras."

Freddie shuffled his feet.

"Hi, Freddie," said Barbara. "No, he met her in her old coffee shop and he ended up selling her a full page in Thursday morning's newspaper. She told me this when she called about Freddie wanting a bed. She thinks he's brilliant with touches of a confidence man. But he came through playing it straight and has drafted her an advertisement that knocked the socks off her."

"I had to do my utmost; the poor woman is in danger of going down the tubes as her store is ailing."

The other three laughed themselves almost into tears.

"What, what did I say?"

"My sister Dora and husband Frank are the town's richest couple, millionaires. Frank's mother was a McCarthy-Bayer, of diamond fame, and just like her with her family Frank was an only child. Frank owns the mall and half of the West-Wing Industrial Estate and Dora own something like twelve buildings in the town centre."

Freddie looked very perplexed. "But she was so conservative and appeared worried about losing money."

"That's the nature of my sister."

"What type of bra was she in, Freddie?"

"Lucy!" scolded her Aunt.

"Well, I'm off – see you tomorrow, Freddie. Uncle Ted, could you take Freddie down to the station after dinner to pick up his luggage?"

"No, you go home and feed your dog, then come back here for dinner," said her aunt. "I've cooked plenty, then you can take Freddie out for a drink while Ted and I watch 'Three New York Sisters' – it's fast becoming our favorite program."

Freddie held his breath.

"Oh, all right. I'll be back in thirty minutes."

"Come in, Freddie. You and I have to talk," said Barbara, as they waved Lucy off.

Freddie went inside and was instantly captivated: the living rooms was filled with character down to Barbara's self-made cushions and the table and chairs crafted by Ted, to paintings by local artists and 500 books overflowing bookshelves, a sleeping grey-haired cat and an ingratiating slobbering mutt called Toby.

"This reminds me of my mother's house," he said.

"Oh, poor Freddie, with a widowed mother," Barbara said.

"No, my father is hale and hearty, not too hearty I hope, but he is configured into the background.

"I know the feeling," muttered Ted.

"Pardon me?" snapped Barbara.

"I said it's a cool evening," smirked Ted.

"Fetch us drinks, darling," Barbara ordered, patting the sofa beside her for Freddie to settle.

"Freddie, Lucy needs a man to send her over the edge in ecstasy. She is frustrated, embittered and sexually deprived, a little bit like me, actually."

"I…"

"Shut up, Freddie. I'm holding the floor.

"Last Fall Lucy went as arranged to her fiancé's car, expecting to be taken out to dinner, and there he was shafting her personal assistant in the butt."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that, Barbara."

"It devastated poor Lucy as that very evening they were to discuss wedding plans. Needless to say the swine called the engagement off and demanded back the ring, which Lucy obliged but threw at him and it disappeared down a street water collection sump, or whatever you call those things."

"I'm sorry to hear that Barbara."

"She did have some satisfaction as some weeks later she heard that the bastard was receiving treatment for a STD."

"Bravo."

"You are to be congratulated, Freddie, for having a sympathetic heart.

"Freddie – you seem to be a nice guy. Dora told me you were not married nor attached. Is that true?"

"Yes, regrettably I am not attached."

"Well, Freddie, I want you to court Lucy and then hump her senseless until all her hurt and insecurities are driven from her."

"That's rather radical."

"I don't think so."

"I disagree, Barbara. I feel she needs to be nurtured and encouraged to find herself and stimulated until she cries out to be held and loved."

"Isn't that exactly what I was proposing?"

"A similar end result, Barbara, but my version keeps Lucy holding all the options and it is she who decides whether or not she requires immersion with someone else, how it is achieved, and what outcome she desires."

Barbara looked at Freddie in awe, asking, "Are you sure you are a male; that was so well put, almost poetic, and so expressive of the feminine viewpoint."

"It's elementary, Barbara. When someone has been psychologically hurt, hopefully all they require is warmth and comfort and being shown the doorways that give them choices. With loving support they'll know what to do."

Barbara took Freddie's hand. "You are amazing for someone so young, Freddie; Nora told me she was smitten by you. I scoffed, but can see what she meant." "Barbara – I really think we have gone as far as we sensibly can go with this particular conversation. Could you kindly show me my room. I need to freshen up before Lucy returns."

x x x x x

Three hours later Lucy and Freddie were back at the bar they'd visited earlier that evening, Freddie's luggage in the back of Lucy's 4WD wagon.

"I suppose Aunt Barb told you all."

"Yes."

"Is that all you have to say."

"Yes, unless you have more questions."

"What do you feel about it?"

Freddie took his time answering, realizing it was not a stupid question; how he answered might be considered important.

"Hearing about it saddened me but these things happen; one cannot change history and that experience will gradually dim."

"But it isn't."

"I know, but believe me it will."

"Can you help me?"

Freddie looked around the dark-strained walls of the bar, enclosing a large number of people who basically seemed very happy. Lucy should have that similar seemingly carefree happiness.

"Yes, but my help must be limited to helping your rise out of yourself."

"That sounds very melodramatic."

"Yes, doesn't it?"

"Then you think my behavior is melodramatic?"

"Yes, since you've asked me."

"Jesus, you pack a punch."

Freddie reached for her hand. "Lucy, this may sound callous but listen with eyes closed at the truth this statement contains: you can step outside the hurt anytime you wish, permanently if that's your wish."

Lucy clenched his hand, eyes closed. She opened her beautiful light green eyes and they were filled with tears. "Freddie, I must go home to contemplate."

"I know, let's go."

It was not an instant cure and Freddie had known that. Everyone at the office had assumed Lucy and Freddie were a number as they went everywhere together. "Fucking the tail off her, I shouldn't wonder," Stella confided to her cronies. Even Mrs West thought the newcomer was into her daughter's pants, but she didn't mind because he seemed suitable as a son-in-law if Lucy became pregnant and they decided to marry. But the reality was sex was rather peripheral: they kissed like friends and sometimes Lucy would ask, "What kind of bra am I wearing today?" and she would take his hand and put it on to her chest, saying, "Just a light touch, no cheating."

Lucy's outwardly friendliness was gratifying but her inner coldness left him in despair. Two months on after his arrival, came the break through.

Freddie's new career as an advertising consultant was roaring ahead. After the 'we apologize for the mess' from the highway contractor was published, the Letters to the Editor column in the newspaper was filled with responses, 90 per cent favorable, praising the contractor for his inspired thoughtfulness and 'community awareness' and small resealing jobs and pot-hole repairs requests flooded into his office.

Milly Jessop's 'recent' shipment of English fine bone china sold out by mid-morning Saturday and Nora's lingerie shops had lines of women wanting 'perfectly fitting bras' and sales figures went through the roof. By the end of that two months Freddie's own weekly ad had boosted his popularity as a advertising consultant so much that he'd appointed a personal assistant and employed Stella on contract to look after his advert concepts once he'd drafted them; she'd take them to design and composition and supervise their production and run proofs back to Freddie's clients.

Frustrated as his inability to effect change in Lucy's emotional depth, Freddie concluded she'd only change if she was shocked into it or else sought professional help. One of these was about to happen.

Once a year the sisters and husbands were invited to spend a weekend at the Country Club. On this occasion the invitation was extended to 'Lucy and Partner'; she invited Freddie. He was intrigued to see the pecking order of the sisters – one would have assumed that the moneyed Nora in the company of mega-rich husband Frank, would have been shown deference. Not so. Newspaper proprietor Mae (nee Ellwood) West, the third oldest sister, was the one commanding respect because she was so autocratic. She'd taken over the newspaper on the death of her husband, fatally injured at the age of 44, in a car accident.

Next in line, though sheer personality, was Barbara, and then Country Club chief executive Alison, with her MBA and large salary counting for naught, and then Nora. At various times on Friday night Mae, Alison and Nora said in asides to Freddie how Lucy had become much improved socially since being in his company. These older women made such a fuss of him and it became very competitive.

There was an unlocked connecting door between Freddie's and Lucy's rooms but it remain closed throughout the two nights of residency. The weekend was to finish with a banquet lunch.

At 8:00 that morning Lucy and Freddie went out on to Eight-Mile Lake – it was approximately eight miles in length, four miles wide in one part – sailing a 14ft 6in catamaran. Both had some sailing experience. They had a marvelous time, both rosy cheeked with excitement and wind-burn.

During a beat across the wind on the way home, Freddie was out on the trapeze, feet braced against the top of the hull, when the stainless steel wire supporting him gave way and he fell into the lake. Lucy struggle to keep the yacht stable and when she looked back Freddie's head above the water was barely visible. When she gibed to turn, a wind gust almost over-turned the yacht. When Lucy regained control and completed the turn she'd had no idea of their former course, which was understandable.

She tacked in a zigzag pattern of tacks across what she believed was their course at the time of the mishap, but there was no sign of Freddie. In panic Lucy stood up to pull out her cell phone from the pocket under her buoyancy vest to call for help and then, almost lost her footing in a wind gust, saw the the phone spin from her hand and disappear overboard.

"Freddie, Freddie!" she screamed. No answer. Then Lucy had the presence of mind, doing something that was to save Freddie's life.

Looking at distance landmarks he sailed to the position of what she thought had been their course, and fed out the sheet and sat back, allowing the wind behind her to push the yacht down the lake. She was trailing the jib-sail behind her to slow down the vessel. She figured her drift still would be faster than Freddie's in his buoyancy vest but with the drag of his lower body.

Every thirty seconds or so she shouted, "Freddie, Freddie!" At times she imagined she heard answering cries, but eventually decided it was the wind and water slap deceiving her. Finally she heard it: "Over here!"

She changed course and headed for the sound, still running with the wind. Then she saw him. "Freddie, thank God! I see you."

She rounded behind him, putting the yacht 'in irons', pointing directly into the wind so he could come to her. She was calling out comforting things, telling him he'd soon be rescued.

"Hi," he said, looking little the worst for his misadventure because thankfully he was wearing Alison's husband's wetsuit, but his face and hands were blue. "I reckoned I had at least a 50 percent chance of being saved, knowing a woman of your intelligence would do the right thing."

He reached up and Lucy, tears streaming down her face, helped pull him aboard.

"That was a very interesting experience. Being alone in the water, without knowing if you will be saved or can make it to shore, empties your mind of petty thoughts and…"

"Shut up you beautiful man and kiss me."

"Your face is frozen," she said a minute later, looking at his blue, rubbery lips. She unzipped the front of her vest, opened her thick jacket and pulled down her dress, allowing her bra-less breasts to fall free.

"Here, warm your mouth on these. They are yours."

She sat, nursing him and humming, rocking on her seat.

On their return they made no mention of the mishap, not wishing to create fuss, and went to their rooms to change for lunch.

Freddie was preparing to enter the shower when the connecting door opened and Lucy called, "Freddie?"

He emerged from the bathroom to find her standing looking dreamily, wearing only panties.

Lucy held out her arms and said, "Let's start having real dates. I almost lost you and I now know what I want. I am ready to commence a relationship if that's what you want."

"That's what I want."

Lucy pulled him on to his bed. "Let's be naughty and be late for lunch. Do you like these breasts?"