Saving the Starlight Ch. 04

They laughed and Shirley place the whisky bottle between them and kissed both men lightly after announcing she was off to bed as she had a big day ahead.

After she'd left Fenton asked did Shirley have a regular job?

"Yeah mate, at the Events Centre. She has the fancy title of events and displays general manager."

Fenton filed that information away with keen interest.

"You know Fenton I have watched your progress from the beginning with this restoration issue and you have been pitching it expertly. You'll need to expand that effort beyond a one-man band if the drum is to beat with increasing tempo. That will pull an increasing large section of the population to back this cause."

"Thanks Stan, I appreciate those words of wisdom," Fenton said intelligently, not blurting that such moves were already under underway.

* * *

When property developer Fenton Murdoch drove off from his productive evening visit to the home of Stan and Shirley Gill's home, he knew with pleasure the big picture of promoting the Starlight Appeal was take taking shape in his head.

Inspired project promotion would be the key to success to attain the target of $3 million in public and company donations and attracting grants from Government and quangos (non-governmental organisations) toward funding the restoration of the Starlight cinema.

He now had enough information and commitments of support to reveal the concepts at the trust meeting the next night.

Fenton glowed with satisfaction that the Starlight project as part of his own construction project figuratively now had wheels and was almost ready to roll and he enjoyed feeling the flush of success. He thought there was nothing like being in this mood and heading off to bed with a bellyful of wine topped by half a dozen whiskies.

He grinned foolishly and feeling guilty at having driven home in a drunken state of euphoria.

At home he faced an empty bed.

He'd known to expect that of course but felt like companionship. He thought of the mother and daughter hairdressers who were among his earliest new friends upon his return to the city. Although it was late he'd only need to go to their house and bang on the door and one of them would sleepily invite him in and perhaps they'd combine to entertain him lasciviously, or so he imagined.

That left him questioning if in his present state would he be capable of performing with even one of them and that ended his day of thoughts and actions.

Someone knocking at the door next-morning awoke Fenton and he staggered out groggily and blamed the whisky. The caller was the hairdressing mother; god, he groaned to himself, he couldn't remember her name. He did remember that the previous day he'd left a message on her phone saying he'd called to inquire about how they were getting on, that he missed them as neighbours and gave them his new address in case they had tossed away his note with that information.

"Oh God," she exclaimed.

"What?" he said, looking down although knowing he didn't have an erection and there was no fly opening on his black sleeping shorts.

"Your muscular torso - I'd not seen it before. It was dark when you had me."

"You had me," Fenton said defensively and not thinking like a gentleman. "You better come in."

"Thanks," she said, closing the door and snipping the lock before following him into the kitchen.

By then Fenton had remembered her name was 'Nancy'. He pointed vaguely in the direction of the coffee machine and invited her to help herself. Karen did and then said he looked awful and asked had he been dragged by a horse with his foot in a stirrup.

That made him smile and clear his head a little, throwing an unseen switch.

"It's the whisky from last night. I'm no good with whisky."

"Oh my poor boy," she said, and coming around behind Fenton's chair pushed her big breasts into his back and began gently laying her fingers across his forehead.

At first he thought it was having breasts jammed against him at last was making him feel a little uplifted and then realised the goodness was definitely coming from her fingers; his head pain was easing.

She then began kneading his neck muscles and he almost nodded off.

"Well, that's it. Show me around quickly and I must go as my first client will be waiting."

He stood and silently they both looked down at the tent in the front of his shorts. Fenton accepted that obviously he was a prime candidate for massage.

"I could call Mary-Anne and ask her to start my client," she said and Fenton remembered with some embarrassment her name was Karen and he waited dumbly, not being sure how to respond.

"No I must go. Goodbye sweetie," Karen said and was gone before he could thank her for the massage. He was thinking about calling Sally over to sort him out when his phone went; he saw the caller was Liberty.

"Hi, I'm on my way to the airport as dad wants to buy a couple of new suits in Auckland. We're staying the night. I've called Sally to apologize for non-attendance at the meeting she has called. Ohmigod a cop is pulling me over for speeding. Bye."

Fenton stared dumbly at the voiceless phone in his hand. Women! They were never at your side when needed.

Grumpily he went off to run a bath, glad no woman wanted him when he had a hangover like this. He was, er, intolerable? Fenton made a second coffee, lowered himself into the bath and was asleep within a minute, the coffee on a chair remaining untouched.

He awoke three hours later with water-wrinkled skin that made him look like a guy old before his time. Even so he whistled as he shaved, feeling like a man of steel once more and spent the remainder of the day talking to building supply merchants and then talking to the principals of three large plumbing contractors and was taken out to see examples of their gangs' work at construction sites where plumbing work was well underway.

Fenton arrived home at 5:00 to find a note peeping out the side of his front-door mat.

Meeting tonight cancelled. Almost everyone can't attend. Sorry - Sally.

Fenton was angry. Those people had accepted the role of trustees so where was their commitment?

The Mayor and his wife probably had an important social invitation, Fletcher from the newspaper probably had decided to bonk the chief reporter's wife or perhaps fellow trustee Milly Jessop but no Milly was probably having it off with her photographer friend and new trustee Barry Gladstone.

As for Trinity, well, enough said. It had been Fenton's intention to propose Sam Gill or his wife as a new trustee and both were in a position to help drive the trust. He looked at the note again and saw marks on it. They looked like dried tears.

Oh fuck Sally had been upset that her dream team appeared to be disintegrating on her! He pulled out his phone.

"Hi Sally - just arrived home and read your note. I feel like kicking butt."

"Me too. I rarely cry but I have because this has been such as big disappointment that I rather lost it."

"Are you home alone?"

She sniffed and said she would be soon as her husband was off to the steakhouse for dinner with the boys and then they'd go into a backroom and play cards all night.

"Want to come over for a drink - bubbly I'd brought for tonight."

"I don't know; you made it clear you had a big personal rule about intimate connection with married women."

"Come on."

"Okay I'll arrive in about an hour."

"Great, stay for dinner."

"There is no need to be nice to me."

"Come on Sally, this is no like you. I'll try to be bright company."

Sally sniffed and said she'd seen him soon.

Fenton whistled as he went to the fridge and pulled out two steaks - then stopped, appalled at what he'd just done: invited another man's wife unaccompanied to his home to drink champagne and then dine her, a woman who was down and needed support.

He closed his eyes and swore than no matter what happened he'd not touch her sexually. 'Swear on that,' his conscience challenged.

'Yes!'

He felt relieved.

Sally arrived fully made up and wearing a cute little black dress. Fenton knew instantly that Sally didn't have to open her mouth and say something saucy for men to eye her. She was one of those women who radiated the message she was ripe for sex.

Fenton gallantly closed his mind to any further wanton thoughts like that, placed his hands on her shoulders to avoid their bodies touching and kissed her on the forehead, relieved she had no objection to that.

"You look very beautiful."

He shouldn't have said that but she just smiled although with a rather searching look at him. Fenton acted casually as if it were the sort of thing he'd say to his sister, if he had one.

"A glass of Veuve Clicquot?

"Ooh, yes please."

They sat a chatted, sipping slowly, avoiding talking about the trust.

When Sally finished her second glass and Fenton was almost finished his second, she asked confidently, "May I sit on your knee?"

Stupidly Fenton said of course.

Sally carried a little extra weight and so was soft and her curves were acutely curvy. As she turned and placed her arms around his neck and lowered her lips on to his very slowly, her perfume enveloped them intoxicatingly and she wriggled her butt to accelerate his slowly rising erection.

Fenton groaned to himself knowing he'd just issued consent to be seduced and tried to figure out had he not been stupid after all, that he'd wanted this to happen.

"Play with my titties," Sally murmured.

He froze, which surprised him.

She dragged his hand where she wanted it and that didn't surprise him. More than a handful awaited him and a hardening nipple rose to meet his twitching fore and second fingers.

The hem of her dress had been lifted to rest above her hips. Fenton reached down with his free hand and confirmed she was wearing only her dress and a half-cup bra.

"May I unzip you?" she asked, panting a little and took the choked reply for affirmation.

Fenton knew he was in a near-helpless situation. It had been a long time without sex for him. His phone went and because it has on the table beside his chair he reached for it and saw it was Trinity calling.

"It's Trinity - I'd better answer," he said.

Without replying Sally stopped unbuckling his belt and he swung his right leg over her head - she was on her knees - and went off to the bedroom answering the phone with a surprised "Hi is that you Trinity?"

Trinity was calling from the booth in the women's restroom of a French restaurant, giving her father a moment alone to chat up a waitress who'd indicated a passing interest in him.

"Obviously we look like father and daughter. What are you doing?"

"Reading," he lied.

The call lasted only sixty seconds but when Fenton returned to the lounge Sally had gone.

He banged his head on the doorframe in frustration - he couldn't blame her.

Fenton put the steaks away, not feeling like eating. Sex was what he wanted.

It was almost dark when he went out the backdoor to collect bathroom towels, socks and tea towels off the revolving clothesline.

"Hi not many men do the washing."

Fenton leaned against the fence chatting to one of the two females who shared the flat next door. She was stripping their clothes line of personal and household washing.

Lisa held up a bra, "This is not mine, it's Tammy's. Two of mine would go into one cup."

"But yours are still large enough to impress."

Lisa stared at him, saying nothing. It was so dark by then and she appeared almost shadow-like which meant he could not read her expression.

Finally she croaked, "Tammy's at the movies with a guy from her office. Would you like me to come over?"

"Yes."

He heard her suck in breath. "What should I wear?"

"A dressing gown - just stockings and suspender belt underneath."

She giggled, "You pervert. Okay."

More to Come