Paging Leslie Thompson

Wowie! Oh Man! I always liked that scene in the car between the Deirdre and Sam characters in the movie "Ronin"!

I'm afraid I just gaped slackjawed at her till the sudden announcement blared over the P-A made me jump. 'That we would shortly be making our final landing approach. Welcome to where-ever the hell we were. Thank you for flying what-ever airline. Yaddayadda.'

Well, that's all I could hear with the ocean waves crashing through my ears. I choked out "Hummahhh, Leslie darling?"

"Yes, Leslie dearest."

"My ears. All I hear is the sound of ocean waves against the shoreline. If this plane does crash into the Pacific, do I NOW have your permission to use you as a flotation device?"

She choked down her laughter and in an outraged voice shot back "Miss...ter Thompson! If you make me ruin another pair of mentionables, I swear I will not forgive you!"

I feinted hopefully with "I love make-up sex."

"You are loving with the wrong organ!" Was her swift riposte.

I groaned in frustration as I sat back and faced forward. Her right hand was clutching my left wrist as the landing gear banged down and the engines began to howl louder.

When I felt her tension boiling up, I leaned over again and asked her "How about I contact the caterer and see if they have another cake? For you to jump out of...nude...for my private celebration of getting kicked to the curb?"

She laughed out loud as the plane bounced its way down the runway with screeching brakes and howling engines reversed. Hey, I getting pretty good at distracting her. Clever minx, she realized what I did and admitted "Damn it white boy! I'm going to have to bring you along every time I'm forced to ride in one of these infernal contraptions!"

In a smug voice I riffed "Thank you for flying Air Leslie today. Please be sure to gather all your luggage and neurosee before disembarking!"

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A Divine Evil

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As we walked off the plane I was trying to come up with a suave line that would get me her phone number but all I could think of was some more stupid jokes. And Smores are no damn good without a campfire!

'Damnit, boy!' 'Concentrate!'

Realizing that I was running out of time, I blurted out "Uhh, Mizz Thompson? Do you have transportation arranged? I had left my car here at airport parking. I could give you a lift if you need."

'Did I sound too eager there?'

We had pulled aside from the disembarking crowd, she had a frown on her face as she tried to place a call on her cell phone.

In a distracted mutter she said "Oh, uhhm, no thanks Windy. A friend, ah neighbor is suppose to come get me. I let him use my car for the week I was gone. So he could drop me off and pick me up today. Damn it, answer your fuckin' phone, Josh!"

Getting desperate, I tried to pin her down by saying "Mizz Leslie, I gotta go change MY panties. Could you watch my rolling bag for me? I'll be back in a minute."

She looked at me vacantly as she checked her messages, nodded and waived me away with "Take more then a minute and use the extra time to wash your hands before you return, boy!"

Between her loud voice and mine, we were both getting odd looks from the crowd around us. So, I just could not resist. "Yes, Mother!" I shot back over my shoulder as I hurried to the men's room.

The look on her face boded ill for me, 'Mother!? I will take revenge!' but I didn't have to worry because when I got back...From all the way across the noisy, crowded terminal hall, I could hear her outrage yelling into her phone.

"Ensenada?!?"

" What the fucking hell?!!"

" Are you doing!?!"

" In Ensenada!!"

"With MY car!!"

By time I reached her the crowd was giving her a respectful space and I could see a couple of the deputies on duty were looking her over, trying to decide if they should intervene.

I nodded respectfully at them and held up a hand to acknowledge that she needed to calm down. They held back and allowed me to help her. As I stood in front of her, it looked for a second as if she was about to smash her cellphone on the floor in frustration.

That was when she snarled "That stupid dick-breath! Decided that I wasn't coming back till next week. So him and his good for nothing dopesucking buddies decided on a road trip down Baja."

I was thinking, maybe I'll have the opportunity to discover 'Can a Black Woman's face turn purple with rage?'

In a seething voice, she spat out "Cause I'm such a friggin' idiot that I wouldn't notice a coupla thousand extra miles on my odometer. Arrgghh!!"

"Hey, Mizz Thompson. Let me give you a lift home. Cheapest taxi in town!"

Shaking her head in frustration, she asked with a sour laugh "Please take me to the U-Haul on Harbor and Fairly, I have a truck reserved and I can drive it for a couple of days till that pack of dip-shits get back with my car. And thanks Mister Thompson. Oh wait! Don't you have a bachelor party to get to? Wouldn't want you to miss Chet stroking out."

Slinging my backpack over my neck and shoulder, I grabbed her large bag and mine to prevent further argument and started walking out the terminal to the parking shuttle pickup.

"Eh, what's family for anyway? Thompson clan solidarity forever!"

She hurried after me and over my shoulder I said

"I wasn't actually planning on being in the same room. I had a big wad of cash I had been saving for a down payment on the McMansion Marian-the-ex-cessive expected me to buy her."

"Bribing the escort service and finding the right stripper, then flying her in with her bulldyke girlfriend cum bodyguard and/or pimp and putting the two of them up at a hotel. Plus bribes to the caterer and the Yacht Club employees also got me several strategically placed cameras concealed in the banquet hall."

"You are definitely! An EVIL man. Mister Thompson."

"The reason I have to be in Orange County is, the cameras are WiFi and the signal is encrypted and there is only one relay available, hidden on a friend's boat temporarily docked near the yacht club.

Technically, I could be on the other side of the planet and have the streaming download bounced to me. But there are way too many security risks going through the internet."

"Being this close I won't have to worry about any nosy parkers intercepting the streaming signal. It'll all come straight to my laptop. As much as I will enjoy this show, I really do not intend to have this plastered all over YouTube or where ever.

This is my personal revenge and entertainment and is not intended for widely public consumption."

As we stood at the jitney stop waiting for the next shuttle, she looked up at me, I couldn't decide if her expression was awe or horror. Maybe both?

She started to say something, then stuttered into silence and thought a moment before saying in a baffled tone "Fucking flaming Figaro! I can't figure if I should worship you or run screaming over to those deputies and order them to shoot you as a public menace."

I quirked an eye at her and smirked "Mmmhhh. You may want to reconsider your options? Remember? 'Sunny island of walled-in, pasty white entitlement and enclaves of conservative smugery'?

A big bouncy lass of color such as yourself.? ... Running? ... Screaming! At two of Orange County's armed constabulary? Is liable to panic them into shooting YOU, Mizzy."

We hauled our bags onto the shuttle and sat together.

Sourly, she acknowledged my cautionary "Yeah, obviously I'm a fucking Taliban terrorist. Must be my long beard!"

Just to wind her up with a distraction from her other problems, in a lofty tone, I declaimed "It's okay though to worship me. I will deign to permit you your devoted reverence of my self-evident divine status."

She practically choked trying to laugh and reply simultaneously in an outraged voice at my outrageous claim "You are totally evil! I bow to your narcissist self-obsession. And while you have your head so far up your own ass, do you need me to hand you a flashlight so you can perform your own colonoscopy?"

With a dismissive wave of my hand and a haughty voice, I replied "No need Madeira, my dear. My divine nature makes me as shiny inside as I am shiny outside!"

She and I broke out laughing hard, totally oblivious to the sour, disapproving glares of the other shuttle passengers. It gave me a warm glow inside to know that my humor has such an appreciative and sexy-gorgeous audience.

The shuttle let us off close to my Ford Hybrid SUV and a few minutes later we were quietly accelerating onto the 405 north.

She was obviously admiring the luxurious interior. Tilting her head, she exaggerated listening to the hum of the electric motor, before snarking "Nice wheels. These electric slot-cars really are quiet."

"Slot-car! Phhph. When I need a little get up and go, the gasoline engine will automatically kick in for extra horsepower. It wasn't cheap to buy but the running costs are modest and I even got a small discount on my insurance. My previous cars were tiresomely popular among car thieves, this one less so. Not enough of them yet for there to be much of a market for stripped parts."

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A Bouquet of Petunias

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I exited onto Harbor south and after a few minutes of stop and go traffic, we pulled into the U-Haul lot at Fairly.

I was about to get her bags out of my car, figuring I'd been helpful enough to earn her phone number when I heard her shouting. Again! This woman is never shy about expressing her opinion. I still can't decide if that's good or bad? All I know is, that for some yet to be determined reason, her bad makes me feel good.

The vocal outrage was coming from over by one of those boxy trucks with the cheesy state slogans all over them. I left her bags in my Hybrid and moseyed over to see what the problem is, that I could heroically rescue her from, this time.

The lot manager was trying to calm her down. "I'm sorry Miss Thompson but this is all we have left. It is the new semester for most of the local colleges and universities and all the automatic shift trucks are already gone."

I understood her dilemma immediately.

"I don't know how to drive a goddamn stick shift! And I have to be moved before six pm!" She wailed.

I could see this argument was going nowhere fast so I interjected "Hey Jayhawker, I got a suggestion."

"It better be better then me trying to use one of these fucking dildoe stick-shifts!"

"Hah'uhhmm yeah. Uh, I can drive the dildoe truck and you can drive my slot-car?"

The lot manager looked relieved that there was another male available to protect him from the wrath of the African valkyrie. She got a stunned look in her face.

I couldn't resist reaching over and with one finger I pushed up her chin to close her gaping mouth.

She swatted my hand away, then took a deep breath and said in a half-angry, half-puzzled tone "Windy, you keep this up and you are going to ruin your evil reputation."

"I am divinely evil, madam. But, I will expect that when you return my car to me, that I get to watch you wash it in the skimpiest bikini you own."

The UHaul manager's face turned beet red at that and he almost dropped his clipboard.

Then Mizz Leslie gave me THAT look. You know the one. Where they toy with their hair, while doing the modestly downcast look to the side. Then up at you with those sad puppy eyes and the pouty lips.

In her most sultry voice yet "My smallest monokini. Got it last year, in Rio de Janeiro during Mardi Gras. Though I'll need another full Brazilian to wear that in public."

She looked down at her breasts, did I say how nice they are? In a thoughtful tone while putting her hands under them to slightly shake them. Uh, I can't remember, did I mention how nice her tits are?

With a wicked gleam in her eye she murmured "These Girls could sure use an airing out."

'Stupid Leslie' really, really! Wants to meet 'These Girls'!

"A little sunshine, a little watering, and these melons would be ripe for plucking."

I was sweating. The lot manager was strangling himself trying not to blurt out that he would be most happy to assist with the car washing AND the plucking.

It was getting 'hard' to keep 'up' with all her 'metaphors'. Or would these be similes? At this point, I'm an idiot to even be wondering about the difference.

Pretending to be casual, I tossed her my car keys and followed 'Red Face' back to the office to fill out the paperwork.

When the counter clerk checked my ID and insurance he was confused by our names as everyone else since our paths had criss-crossed. 'Mis-crossed?' "Star-crossed?' Even though our respective Driver License's clearly pictured us.

I leaned over the counter and explained in a deadpan confidential voice to both men "We are half-brother and half-sister. Our daddy was a traveling salesman and a bigamist. With a peculiar sense of humor."

Hah! I had them stupefied "Not only did he give us both the same name of Leslie but both our mothers first names are Petunia. He thought it would drive anyone investigating him crazy with confusion."

Seeing I had both men hooked and ready to be gaffed, I amplified my tall tale "Did you notice that our birthdays are the eleventh and the twelfth of August? Sis was born ten minutes before midnight and I popped out eighteen minutes afterwards. Of course the funniest thing of all was a week earlier, Daddy went for the trifecta as he was in Salt Lake City marrying his third Petunia. Don't know if she was expecting."

The Lot manager and the counter clerk were both staring at me with utter disbelief and gaping jaws as I went on in my most sorrowful tone "Shortly thereafter, Petunia Three somehow found out about Petunia's One and Two and about Sis and I, their not so little bundles of joy. She wound up shooting Daddy dearest in the ass.

So he skedaddled and disappeared. We've thought about doing a search for him. Should be easy enough. Just track down women named Petunia. How many of them could there be? Huh? Right? But then again, why spoil the old sot's fun!"

Just to make the story believable, I smoothly segued into "I've been thinking. Since I'm going to be driving the truck, you better put this on my Amex card and make it for four days or a week, which ever's the better deal. Sissy's luck has been so shitty lately, it might take us that long to get everything squared away. Also, We'll need pads and a heavy-duty dolly if there none already on the truck?"

They assured me they were already aboard.

"Included and loaded, good. Then add on two dozen each of those medium boxes and a dozen of the large boxes. The six-pack of the large strapping tape. A ball of twine, a pack of slap-on labels, a couple of markers. A pair of heavy-duty plastic covers for a queen-size mattress and box-spring. A pack of those sliders in case we need to move large appliances. And a large heavy duty padlock. I think that'll do it."

The two UHaul employees close-hauled themselves together and took care of swapping out the transactions before they put the packs of boxes and accessories into the back of the truck for us.

A week on my card got me a discount the same price as four days, so we were covered in case of delays. I went over to my SUV and leaned into the open window to explain what I had done and why. That any of the supplies she didn't use, I'll be needing when I move in a couple of days.

Hah! Stunned her again. Score! Then I told her to wait to follow until I turned on to Harbor as I would be stopping for a few minutes to get us a pair of helpers.

She slapped her face in frustration "Saint Christopher on a stick! That's right, I'd forgot. Those butt-fuckers were also supposed to help me move! God, what would I have done without you Windy?" She actually sniffled.

I gave her a bemused look and soothed with "Don't worry KayCee. By time I'm done with you, you'll be owing me so many favors, I'll never have to wash any of my cars again in this lifetime!"

Her face lite up with a chuckle and I smirked "Haw, made you smile."

"Evil bastard!" She said as she punched my shoulder through the open car window.

"Owww! Hey, dumb ol'me, before I forget to ask again. Get out the pad and pen in the console, write the address and directions to your place, so I can pretend I know where we are going. Here is my mobile, enter your cellphone number. If we get separated in traffic we can call one another."

As I walked back to the truck, I rubbed at the shoulder she punched. I suddenly realized she punched with her left hand?

Hey, I've never had a woman sparring partner before. Could be interesting if she doesn't do cheap crotch shots. But then again...I had a brief fantasy of her inspecting my inadvertently bruised 'Stupid Leslie' and then inapplying her big, luscious lips insoothing that poor inflamed inmember of my most intimate incircle.

It just took a couple of minutes right outside the exit to pickup a couple of men to help us. Oops! What this 'us' stuff, white boy? Am I doing good 'for' her or is it that I want to do good 'to' her? Yeah, you know what I mean! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink and Bobs your uncle.

As I drove, I was pondering how here I go again, falling into instant lust for a pair of tits before getting to know the woman. Yeah I know, that makes me the boob!

Her former rental was actually not too far. In one of those giant apartment complexes surrounding South Coast Plaza.

As luck would have it, her place was on the third floor. Bad luck, quite a ways from the elevator. Good luck, there was a stairway close by and we could park the truck next to it. She came from the guest parking where she had left my Hybrid and we got together to discuss the order to load her stuff into the van.

"Hey Miss Leslie, this is Ramon and that's Gordo."

"Hey fellows, glad to have you on Team Leslie."

They murmured their compliments and gratitude for the work and openly enjoyed looking at her. They're Mexicans all right, not at all shy about expressing their appreciation of a beautiful woman. They don't do puritan pretension.

I looked to her for approval while I offered suggestions how we might start "Miz Thompson, go get the place open. You guys haul the boxes and the dolly up there. I'll bring the accessories and then we'll decide what needs to be done first?"

She nodded, pulled her house-keys out of her bag and headed up the stairs with three pairs of hungry eyes following her 'shapely black ass'. When she turned the first corner of the open stairway she laughed down at our gawking faces and how we suddenly jumped to looking busy. I think she said something about 'Larry, Moe and Curly" but I was too busy trying to look busy to be sure.

Ramon is a short stocky swarthy Mexican with an impressive mustache, whenever he wasn't talking he was whistling south-of-the-border folk songs I would guess.

Gordo was almost as tall as me. Thin and wiry. From his deep maroon color, high-cheek bones and large, flat nose probably full Mexican Indian with black hair as long as mine but braided. I suspected that 'Gordo' was an alias, if someone was looking for him, the nickname would have them expecting a big, fat man.

While the guys were bagging and carrying her bed down to the truck, I took Mizz Leslie aside to suggest

"Uhmm Mizz Thompson, make sure you have a bag of clean clothes and feminine items for the next few days. And, uhh, if there are any, 'ahem', personal 'cough', toys or whatever, you do not wish to share, now would be a good time to retrieve'em and bag'em."

I had never before had the experience of watching up close a black woman blush...interesting.

As I left the bedroom I could hear her muttering something about an 'evil man'.

I retorted from the hallway "Divinely evil, if you please Madam!"