Kisser’s Homecoming Impact

"He's returned to Springwater after an absence of 10 years to establish himself as a commercial property developer."

"Mum (he often called his wife mum, usually when perplexed), listen and I'll read you what was published in yesterday's newspaper about Zoe's new boyfriend and the sequel in today's newspaper."

Mother and daughter listened to Alan read the two articles in the voice and pace of a slow and not fully developed reader. Well he worked many years as a farm vehicle mechanic, albeit a brilliant one.

Initially, mother and daughter sat slightly apart, but as the informative drone continued, they moved closer and ended up clutching one another.

Finishing reading, Al said solemnly, "The young man that Zoe recently attached herself to is a multi-millionaire."

"And a nice guy, don't forget that," Zoe said emphatically.

Molly said, looking as if expecting a complete denial, "Is this a good thing for you, Zoe?"

"Well it's too early to tell, mum. We haven't passed the tentative kissing stage."

"I demand an explicit answer."

"Get lost, mother. The days of the Spanish Inquisition are long gone."

Alan said, "Your mother is merely anxious to determine whether you are likely to dump this guy in finding he's super rich, or are your likely to go along for the ride to see how to pans out?"

"It's early days, but the latter I should think, dad."

Zoe looked relaxed, in contrast to her parents who looked uneasy and confused.

Two hours later, Zoe, painting her toe nails, took a call.

"Hi Zoe, I can't stop thinking about you."

"Oh, it's you Kevin. I thought with the newspaper informing everyone that you were a multi-millionaire, I would be the last person you would call."

"I called because I can't stop thinking about you."

"That's nice, and what do you expect in announcing delivering that lovely thought?"

"Pussy."

Zoe jerked upright and said as if she was being half-strangled, "Are you being sincere?"

"Absolutely."

"Where can we meet and should I come without panties?"

"Stay where you are. Give me your address. I wish to meet your parents to give them the opportunity to gain an impression of the guy who is about to bang their daughter."

"Omigod," Zoe cried, holding on to her make-up table feeling she might be unable to support her own weight. "It's too late for you to come tonight. Besides, isn't that a rather medieval attitude?"

"I was brought up proper, I mean properly Zoe. My parents taught me to never bang a female without first showing myself to her parents. The girl's mother could then attempt to assess my genes while checking that I appeared reliable and would mow the lawns when requested. The father would attempt to assess my long-term bread-providing ability and to look for any obvious external signs of deeply harboured sexual diseases?"

"Omigod, couldn't we just get on with it and hump?"

"Possibly, Zoe. But doesn't respect for both families require us to submit for such assessments? It's rather ritualistic, I agree, and everyone involved might believe we may actually don't have to adhere to the ritual and anyway, even if we do, because of the power of passion, in all probability they may think we probably have already engaged in consensual ploughing for perhaps some weeks"

"Have you been drinking, Kevin?"

"I think so. I remember coming home but can't remember how, and that may have been a few hours ago. I think I fell asleep. So, what do you think about meeting the parents on both sides?"

Zoe sighed, "Oh I am confused. Look, I would like time to think about it."

"That's sensible and okay by me and if you don't agree with that level of responsibility to meet the parents first, that will be fine by me, I promise."

"What a wanker," Zoe muttered, turning off her phone and thinking was he into a queer religious sect or something or had he been consuming spiked drinks?

Kevin stared at his phone and then put it down. Although it had been only late afternoon when he'd arrived home, he'd decided to sleep it off.

The experience had started with a wet lunch commencing at 11:30 with two former football buddies he'd met for lunch and after a few beers they decided they should meet regularly for lunch, say once a month. They'd reunited meeting by chance since Kevin's homecoming, when buying steak and onion pies at a pie shop that offered a selection of 21 different fillings). Today, after leaving the lunch place, they went to a back-street bar that was a real dive.

Called 'Abe's Bar 4 Serious Drinkers', they'd had sampled cocktails from the Today's Specials board.

For their final drink, Kevin remembered an attractive bargirl with hairy sideburns extending almost to her jawline pouring something called the Temple of Thought. She mixed with a big measure of brandy, some green stuff, some pink stuff, a slice of lemon and then popped two pills into each glass and then leered, "Drink up, you religious chappies."

Kevin remembered being asked what did the hairy one mean by that and none of them could think of an answer to the question. Then he looked into his glass to fish out the pills but they had gone, dissolved. Then he remembered nothing until calling, um what was her name, oh yes, Zoe who probably had sufficient brains for both of them. But then she admitted being confused.

He sighed and decided to get more sleep. He'd then wake into a new morning leaving all this stupid stuff in the past.

Mid-morning next day, Kevin read an email that had come from some old dear called Molly Hastings inviting him for lunch on Sunday as her daughter wished him to be assessed.

Kevin grinned, thinking she was the one needing the assessment by a psychiatrist. He shook his head to try to clear it and read the email again and found it was Zoe who'd suggested lunch and an assessment."

"Oh Christ," Kevin said in alarm. "The nightmare has returned. This invitation comes from Zoe Hasting's mother!"

He went down for coffee at the hotel's coffee bar and sitting alone, pondered what to do. Ten minutes later he was satisfied about what to do. He should go along on Sunday and make the usual small talk a guy was expected to make when facing his new girlfriend's parents for the first time.

He shouldn't mention an assessment and if they wished to assess him silently, then that would be quite okay. He definitely must not mention becoming rather off his rocker after drinking some muck at some shady bar that in had pills mixed in it and dubbed the Temple of Thought, No way.

On Sunday, Kevin wore his best pair of jeans, his beloved brown leather boots called 'the Craftsman for Men' crafted by RM Williams, and a white shirt that he left unbuttoned until just below his nipples.

Zoe greeted him with raised eyebrows before kissing him and he found out why when meeting the parents.

They were dressed in their Sunday best.

He'd goofed!

He tried to come off the back foot by oozing, "Oh Mr and Mrs Hastings, how incredible lovely to meet you, the parents of your beautiful daughter."

The parents looked at their guest as if thinking he must be on Speed.

Kevin attempted to look apologetic at Zoe but failed to make eye contact and she was staring at the ceiling.

"Um, you are a vehicle enthusiast with an all-star collection that is offered for sale, I hear, Mr Hastings?"

"Yeah you heard right. Call me Alan."

Desperate to bond, Kevin said, "Alan, grab a couple of beers and let's go to the shed and look them over."

"What, you with your wealth drink common beer?"

The women shouted:

'Alan!'

'Dad!'

He replied 'What?' and there was no reply from either female.

Sucking beer, the two guys stood in the shed eyeing the five vehicles.

"Very nice. The Studebaker Golden Hawk is a real classic."

"Ah, you know your cars. What do you drive?"

"The rented basic Mercedes sedan in your driveway that I hired when first arrived back in town four months ago."

"Basic equates to gutless and austere. Why haven't you purchased something to be your pride and joy?"

"I've been busy and to be honest, nothing has caught my eye."

"Are you pro-American road vehicles?"

"Yes and no."

Alan scratched under his chin and asked what did that mean?

"Yes and no."

"Okay son, that clears up that question. Let's over to my restoration shed at the rear of this one and take a looksee at something under the wraps. But wait here while I take these empty bottles over to the house and grab two replacements."

In the work shed, Alan threw back the covers.

Kevin sucked in breath.

It was love at first sight.

The gleaming Chevy 454 half tonner, early 1990s, and said this was the model range that led the swing by manufacturers to produce pickups with real grunt.

"Son, you know your stuff."

"Yeah, the 454 SS V8 1992 2 door, short-bed with the Fleetside Sports package were all turned out in this colour, Onyx Black. It has been fully restored and conditioned, using only imported genuine parts, with creature comforts either added or upgraded such as air-conditioning and a half decent sound system with screen and built-in GPS."

"I also invested in having it painstakingly converted to righthand drive and had specialists upgrade the interior in bright red leather including replacing the seats with two custom high-back bucket seats and covering the centre console in matching fabric and including a bass speaker and improved interior lighting."

"What's the vehicle's known history?"

"Nothing much. Only two previous owners. An American Army Colonel Peter J Jackson, stationed in Darwin, had purchased the vehicle from his uncle two years earlier and had it shipped out with here when he was sent to Australia to lead a team to train American Marines in tropical conditions."

"As he was nearing retirement, he advertised the truck for sale and I went up to Darwin to take a gander and found it was badly neglected, which tends to happens to vehicles in the tropics. I clearly saw the potential and brought it and had it transported home here. Restoring her back to this condition was a labour of love, with an asking sale price set to lure a wealthy potential enthusiast an additional incentive."

"Alas, it has remained unsold for almost two years. Are you interested?"

"Does it have a name?"

"Yeah, when I first started to disassemble her in her forlorn state, I dubbed her Lizzy and when putting her together again in the second year before really going to work on the exterior paint, I found the name Lizzy had stuck."

"I like the name. It gives her character."

Alan said, "Here's something that could knock your interest out the door. You can have her for the written valuation I received from a visiting American veteran car club professionally qualified valuer two years ago, which was $31,400 in Australian dollars in this top condition."

Kevin whistled and Alan sighed thinking that another sales opportunity had evaporated.

But Kevin drawled, "When can I take delivery?"

"Eh?" Alan said, sounding a little shocked and opening his mouth to reveal uneven and tobacco stained teeth.

"Lizzy has character and not only in name. She's distinctive and suits the driving image I have of myself."

Alan said, sounding elated, "I check her out thoroughly this morning and later today I'll arrange the rego (registration) transfer and deliver her to you tomorrow if you give me your address. Um, payment?

"COD on delivery, I guess cash is okay for you, as you're an individual not a company?"

Alan rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah mate, cash is good."

Back in the house, Alan slapped an arm around Kevin and announced, "My mate here has purchased Lizzy."

"Dad, I hoped you didn't attempt to fleece my boyfriend, err, my friend on price?"

"Let me check," Molly said. "That American gave him a written valuation two years back on what that pickup would be worth, brought back to A1 condition and it being offered on the American restored classic vehicle market."

She took a folder from a drawer and flicked through the binder and said, "Ah, here it is, $31,400 in Aussie dollars. That was two years ago, it will have increased in value since."

Zoe asked, "Kevin, what price have you agreed to pay?"

"$31,400."

"Ah, that means dad will have ticked your assessment, supplying you with beer and performing the role of an honest vehicle salesman."

Molly demanded what did Zoe mean by assessment.

She asked what was Kevin's assessment of her mother?

"Oh, she appears to be a straight shooter, must have been a great looker in her prime and hasn't ordered me yet to keep my hands off her daughter."

Molly laughed and said, "Young man, you can come here for lunch or dinner any time you wish. You'll such a pleasant charmer that it liked great medicine for a 50 years plus old girl like me. And I'll certainly not order you to keep your hands off Zoe; she hasn't been getting nearly enough sex that healthy young women need."

There was an embarrassed silence.

Then Zoe began to titter and their environment became a roomful of laughter.

"You are a great walking advertisement for your generation, young man," Alan said. "Another beer?"

"Yes, but could it be held till over till lunch. I can't have too many as I'm driving."

"That's being a responsible driver, I'll go out and start the barbie (outside grill)."

Molly said, "Kevin, I noticed that Merc you drove up in is a rental. It must be costing you an arm and a leg. How long is it since you've had it?"

"It will be 16 weeks next Saturday since I arrived home and picked it up at the airport. I guess I can afford it."

He looked at the two women, wondering why they were tittering.

"But I now have my own vehicle, a classic American pick-up, the best one available in its day apart from a couple of really wacky ones."

"Yes, one of those contenders would have been the 1992 GMC 'Syclone'."

"Ah, Molly. You know your American light trucks too."

"Indeed, without acquiring that interest there wouldn't have been much worthwhile discussion between me and Alan for most of our time together. You see, he gave up his job apart from emergency call-outs as manager and chief mechanic of a large garage workshop 12 years before his intended retirement so that he could work on restoring classic pickups. He managed to ended up earning a decent living that part-timer restorers can't seem to do. Of course, he refined his efforts into a fine art."

Before Kevin left an hour after finishing lunch, Zoe said she'd take him to look at his purchase with him. The 'looking' lasted only three minutes before Zoe hauled the soft dust cover back on and pushed Kevin against a bench and said huskily, "Mother approves of you. Kiss me and feel me up, I wish to be officially advance to become your current girlfriend."

"You've got it," Kevin confirmed, giving her a quick kiss before hauling up her top and grunting, "Now let me get at these tits."

"Ooh, Zoe said, beginning to pant.

They stopped just short of having sex.

She wiped her mouth, he zipped up and was escorted to the Merc, with obvious affection.

"When may I blast into you," he leered.

"When you begin treating me as a lady and stop that slutty carry-on."

"Oh," he said. "You don't admire the part-caveman approach."

"It would seem not," she said. "If car sex is at the back of your mind, you made a mistake with today's purchase. The 454 SS has bucket seats."

"Lovely lady, I'm picking you'll get used to the discomfort of being in action without the benefit of a bench seat."

Chapter 4

When Kevin arrive back at the hotel, one of the day receptionists Wendy called, "Kevin there's a small couriered parcel here for you. Should I have it sent up to you?"

"Nah, I'll come for it now, thanks."

Inside the honeymoon suite where he was based, he opened the pack and found a bottle of good brands of whisky, brandy and rum plus a note, in handwriting.

"Sorry I was such a pig to you in print. I was enraged, consumed with jealously. I've read your response and now feel humiliated. Here's a small token with the wish that I hope we can become professional friends. Signed in humiliation by Al James. Stupid Arsehole.

Kevin looked across to the dining table and saw two cartons. Cripes, two more gifts.

He was happy. Actually, he had decided not to sue Al for his outrageous and obvious defaming remarks and attempted character assassination. It was his choice to let sleeping dogs lie.

Kevin walked over to the cartons and read the note from the manager, his sister. Jennifer had written:

'These letters, about 200 of them, came in today's early mail. How these newspaper correspondents (I've read a couple of them written on postcards) found out your address remains a mystery, although someone who declined to give their name from the newspaper who said she was calling on behalf of Miss Sharrock was told about 200 letters for you had arrived in the morning's first mail delivery."

"Miss Sharrock then may have given the instruction to pass on your home address. Enjoy reading. Oh, I suggest you sue that bastard James for every penny he's got. What a skunk to make all those allegations or rather lies about you in public. Jen'

Kevin poured himself a whisky and read six of the letters, all saying the same thing, that Al James was afraid he's be pushed out of much of his accustomed business activity by his new business rival, Kevin Bateman (or Kisser Bateman) and was blinded to reality with jealousy. Five of the six letter-writers suggested James should be ignored and they thought Kevin had come out of this scrap in the newspaper as the outright winner by a long shot.

Lying in bed with another whisky, Kevin began thinking about cute and charming Zoe and her gorgeous tits.

He awoke to a phone call from the night porter at 6.30.

"There's an Alan Hastings to see you, sir. He said he'd arranged an early morning business appointment with you. You should take a look at the really cool classic Chevy pickup he's driving."

"Thanks, tell him I'll be down in five," Kevin yawned, glad he's got the money from his bank the previous afternoon.

The beaming Al shook hands with Kevin and apologized for being late instead of arriving a 6.00. He'd gotten himself lost, not realizing that the street address he'd been given as Kevin's home address was in fact the hotel.

"No worries mate," Kevin said, having difficulty keeping his eyes off Lizzy.

Kevin handed across the large bundle of wrapped money.

"Jesus mate, Al said, eyes bulging. "You really mean cash rather than a bank cheque."

"Yeah, I usually mean what I say, mate. Come over to this writing desk in the foyer and explain the paperwork and maintenance schedule. How are you getting back home?"

"Taxi."

"I thought as much. Look, I've arranged for you to return the rental car for me and for one of their staff to drive you home in it. That helps us both out. I've given them the mileage and statement there are no dents and paid online to what I owe the rental company."

"That's sweet, mate. I won't have a nosy cab driver asking me what's in the parcel I'm carrying."

"That's right Al, and I think maybe that your rental car driver will be female who typically are chosen for their cute smiles, flat assess and cute tits."

"Oh, I'm off now," Al joked.

"Have you had breakfast?"

Al said he'd grabbed a couple of pieces of toast before leaving home. He was invited to have bacon and eggs with Kevin as soon as the hand-over was complete.

Kevin asked the porter who'd been out inspecting Lizzy was she okay parked out front.

"Yes, that is a parking area and having her there is good marketing for the hotel."

After the very happy Al had left, Kevin went to his sister's suit who was about to walk to her office.

They kissed.

"Got a few minutes?"