CLEAN SLATE: A Novelette: ELEVEN

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Beth Fudge reveals a surprising side. Michael manages to control the Lamborghini and his emotions.
Clouds of uncertain passions gather over the river.

Chapter 11 (v.1) - JANUS UNMASKED

Submitted: August 05, 2017

Reads: 90

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Submitted: August 05, 2017

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CLEAN SLATE

 A Novella

NicholasCochran

PART TWO

Chapter Eleven

 

Beth fell upon me and held me by my shoulders while her entire body shook as a result of her infectious laughter.

Looking over her back, I saw the conflicting emotions racing about the faces of the two young secretaries. Neither appeared distraught, more unnerved by yet another episode of aberrant behavior on the part of their employer. One, Linda Roland, produced a slight smile.

“Oh God, Michael,” rasped Beth, “forgive me my darling; my very bad manners,” straightening up and pushing back her hair with one hand while she took a deep breath and assembled a smile, "I don’t usually attack my prey quite so obviously. Christ, I damned near assaulted you—for the good, you know. For both of us.” 

She stood straighter now while she laughed and tapped me on the shoulder in a sign of apology.

“There. I think I’ve gained control of myself. Sorry, women,” turning to Linda and her cohort,Mary Bell, “but you should be used to me by now, yes?”

They both laughed with a remarkably sincere jollity, as though they had just been given a compliment, as well as a new station in the eyes of their boss.

“Well, Michael, having dispensed with the necessity of talking about financing this monumental undertaking, maybe I should hitch a ride with you in your fancy-pants ride and show you the other areas of crap that The Prick Hambley has totally buggered up.”

“Great idea, Beth. Maybe you can fill me in on how he managed to get the golf course covered with all that Dickensian brick mess.”

“Oh that, Michael. Yes. I’ll definitely tell you all I know.”

She had returned to the other side of the table and taken her seat. She was breathing quicker and deeper which caused me to remark once more—to myself—upon her extraordinary figure.

“We may want to get an audience with Polly, Michael. She’s been with this shit from day one, and, of course, she has the inside track to both the why—and the real why of all this—because of her intimate knowledge of her brother and his dickhead motives.”

“You know I always thought she was the brainy one in the family—after her father, of course,” I opined, “and maybe she can think of some way to speed all this along. She must have contacts going back decades.”

“Well, yes and no, Michael, She was in Montréal as a nurse for years before she came home, got married ,and started popping buns out of the oven. Has six ,I think with that turd of a first husband.

“Oh well,” rising, “time’s awasting here. Damn near three and we have a lot to do.”

Beth was already half way to the door and gave me a slight nod of the head as a gesture telling me to saddle up.

The two secretaries very politely held the door open for me and said how much they enjoyed meeting me. I reciprocated.

While I waited for Beth in the foyer, I tried to calm the blazing desire for her that had never left my body from the first moment she welcomed me with kisses. I thought of Maureen and that helped.

“Hey there, cowboy, ready to ride?” Beth had somehow managed to change into a full, long sleeve white blouse, jeans, and a pair of zippered low heeled brown boots. She had lost none of her allure in the costume change; in fact, she now radiated a stronger provocation from this different clothing genre.

Following another eye-opening ride in the glass-enclosed elevator while Beth pointed out all the highlights, we walked  to the yellow Lamborghini.

“My God, Michael, it’s magnificent. It’s a work of art. Yes, a sculpture worthy of Rodin. And it goes like hell, too.”

She took my arm before I opened the door for her. Her breasts brushed my elbow and I wondered if this was a dating technique or simply the unconscious act of a sublime rendition of God’s perfect animal.

I really didn’t care why or where it came from, the pleasure it shot through my body was its own reward. No cerebral connection was necessary.

“Now, watch your head, Beth,” and I pressed very gently on the top of her mop hairdo and eased her into the passenger bucket.

We took off down King Street, where almost everyone turned to stare. Beth clapped her hands like a girl winning a carnival prize.

“Oh, this is aces, Michael, real aces. My God, what a rush. Probably better than sex when you open it up, I bet.”

“Well, we can try a couple of hundred before we go by the Country Club and you can decide for yourself.”

I couldn’t believe what I was saying. How the hell we she going to make that comparison?

I feared I had uncapped the lamp of a genie—a sex genie—and immediately began to make plans for restoring the genie and cap, and then locking the cap; maybe too late.

“Well, I’d have to have something to compare it to, my darling Michael, and dong it at two hundred miles an hour without our seatbelts on would definitely be dangerous and probably fatal when I came, so, let’s not test the entire theory just yet.”

She looked straight ahead as though she had just stated a geometric proposition instead of a very unsubtle one of the carnal kind.

I nodded while I adjusted my Ray-Bans. "Yes Beth, best to keep these things separate, even at speed."

She broke up at this and then we both laughed while she took by right arm with her hand and of course, gently moved her left breast over it.

I inhaled and sighed at the same time, but before I could figure out how I had done that.

“Here we are, Michael, here’s a stretch we can risk, I think.”

The four lane road was flat for as far as I could see.

I shifted into second and floored it.

Our two hundred miles an hour goal was reached in an astonishingly short time, replete with screams of fear and joy from Beth, who whooped and beat on the glove compartment as the Huracan smoothly delivered the effect of a carrier catapult-takeoff in a fighter jet.

I eased off the accelerator and as we drifted back to what appeared now to be a turtle’s pace, Beth turned to me and took off her Jackie Kennedy sunglasses.

“I never asked you if you were here alone; or even if you’re married. Are you?”

“No. But I have a companion: Maureen Fortune. We’ve been together for about three years.”

I didn’t know if anything more was required by Beth’s question and I simply waited for her next remarks.

“Damn good, Michael. And damn lucky her . . . do you fool around?”

Our speed was now back below eighty—just—and I decided to keep the legal limit within sight. I had all the radar equipment on alert but there was only silence.

“No, I don’t Beth.”

Now I couldn’t believe I’d said that. But what else could I say.

It was true. Coming from a broken home, and raised by two women, I had easily become aware of the dignity and pride of women where love and sex were concerned. They told me to fly straight or I’d crash—like mother did, or rather like mother’s marriage did, because of Dad’s infidelities.

Hard lesson learned.I intuitively adopted the warnings and took the advice of my two distaff guardians, and here I was today, essentially turning down an offer—I believe –to have wild sex with a wild woman who I completely believed capable of damn near killing me in the process.

Beth slumped back into her seat and sighed.

“Well, shit, here I was all horny and ready to take you to a great barn I know on the way to Lyn and fuck your brains out. Now I’m all wet and abandoned,” She immediately laughed and took by arm again, this time without rubbing it with her breast, “but not to worry, this half of the day is young, and the night is wide open and you’re here for a few days more, I bet.”

She turned my face with her left hand and gave me a look of such deep, pure, and innocent desire that I thought perhaps she was conjuring those feelings for me which she harbored those years while I was dating her sister, innocent girlish feeling she had held frozen in the amber of her essence for over fourteen years.

“Yes, Beth, at least three or four days. We were originally only here for a few days to tour the islands and allow me to bore the hell out of Maureen with meaningless sites and meaningless—to her—expositions of deeds and championship moments of a kid growing up.”

I sighed and she released my face, which was a hell of good idea because the Lamborghini had drifted onto the shoulder.

Abruptly, she began to cry.

Great gasping sobs tore out of her.

I pulled the car all the way off onto the shoulder, unclipped my belt and put my arms around her.

She unclipped her belt and buried her head in the hollow of my shoulder where she continued to give off great gulps of despair.

Through tears, “Oh, Michael, what a goddamned idiot I am. I just do these bloody stupid things. Not like this, but still goddamned silly.” She burrowed deeper. “I apologize; oh, Michael, I do so apologize. Please forget everything I said. I’m really so sorry. You must think I’m crazy. Just about everyone else does. Not that I come onto them like I did to you, but still, silly things.

"I’ve talked with doctors and they all think I’m just exuberant. The male doctors all want to screw me which doesn’t really move the crisis along in the right direction,” sighing, “so, anyway.”

She raised her head and looked up at me through veils of tears. She was even more beautiful than before.

“Hey; I’m flattered,” I smiled, “I haven’t had anyone try and seduce me since I was in Sunday School. In Lyn. Patsy Palmer jumped all over me and tried to take off my pants. Christ. And I was only five, too.”

Beth smiled and her look began to revert to that of the hardnosed successful attorney with the outrageous sense of humor and even more outrageous behavior.

“Thank you, Michael, for not ditching me on the side of the road.” She managed a weak laugh while she searched her small Camuto handbag for a Kleenex, “I’m okay now,” with a sudden flashing smile, “but I still love you and I’m not giving up. But; I will restrain myself and I will curtail my activities on the assault front, at least in deed; but maybe not in words.”

She laughed the old laugh and I inhaled a huge breath of relief.

I couldn’t really say that I had been averse to either Beth’s words or her actions, but I knew I was for the moment, and I decided to move our discussions back onto the track of seeking answers and solutions for the heinous acts committed upon the hallowed grounds of my radiant youth.

“Michael, we’re only a few minutes from the golf course, just take the next overpass and we can be back there in five.”

Her tone was that of authority and confidence. I relaxed.

“Got it.”

I took the next off ramp and we were at the site of the Dickensian Brick Massacre within minutes.

End of Chapter Eleven


© Copyright 2017 Nicholas Cochran. All rights reserved.

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