SO FAR: Jilted just short of her wedding day Bianca White returns to New Zealand and opens a consultancy to advise people with business problems. She begins to attract people including her first client, Marty Young, who seeks a female business partner with a sexy side to her. In this chapter Bianca's choice proves to be a woman with more sex drive than Marty can handle.
*
Bianca and Marti slowly inspected the 221 hangings ranging from a whimsically etched Bichon Frise with her puppies to a carcass ripping vulture watched by a cheeky-faced monkey. Some were simple and yet elegant etchings; others were rendered in intricate detail and one of those caught Marti's eye – a gnu. Three giraffes caught the eye of Bianca who was waiting for him to suggest going on to dinner.
They listened to the speeches, the three of them being short and witty and Alice presented the mayor with an etching of a Basset Hound which he'd said looked very much like the one he had as a boy. "Thank you Alice – an exceedingly welcomed gift. You have made yourself into quite an asset and notable character in this city in the six months of the year that we have you."
Bianca whispered the mayor is Malcolm McKee whose family has for three generations imported explosives into the country for commercial use.
"What, for ice-cream making."
"No, for farmers to blow up stumps, forestry, demolition, quarrying and that's about where my imagination stops."
Alice came up to them with a rush. "Right you two, have you made your choice?"
"I like this one the best," Bianca said. It was priced at $205. Alice attached a red sticker with the number twenty-one and wrote on the clipboard saying aloud, "Twenty-one, Bianca White – fifty dollars."
"Your pick Marty?"
"The gnu but..."
"I know it's rather expensive for a etching, but just look at the workmanship will you. Dated 1905 and it's one of my favorites. It's yours if you can afford fifty dollars."
"I can but that's a steal."
"Steal from me. Marty. I've taken a little fancy to you. Now you two must join my party for dinner this evening. I'm not accepting a rejection."
"Yes, thank you."
"Me too," Marty said. "I'll enjoy being in exalted company."
Alice smiled, "I think you better keep this one Bianca."
As Alice rejoined the mayor and mayoress Marty asked Bianca, "Was she saying what I think she said?"
"Words just tumble out from Alice – take her with a grain of salt and you'll be fine," Bianca said impassively. "I'm off home to shower and change; give me a call when you learn the venue and I'll meet you there. Just tell Alice I've gone home to powder her nose and she'll know the code. I'm not dining in your exalted company dressed in a business suit."
"You look okay – a comb up and slash on some more lipstick and I'd take you anywhere."
"Thank you Marty; your eloquence and depth of feeling is beyond belief."
"Pleased you think so," he beamed, unaware of the sarcasm.
A few minutes later Marty took a call, hurrying to a corner where he had a quiet chat with Gloria Schmidt. He finished the call in a daze – she'd suggested she call on him tomorrow evening for a drink and if they established empathy she'd stay on and cook dinner.
"After that, who knows?"
"What?" he'd answered shakily.
"Oh, have I embarrassed you."
"I'm not easily embarrassed," he replied. When he said that Marty knew he was croaking in tension like a bullfrog.
He phoned Bianca from the Pink Ocean restaurant – with no view of the ocean but the walls were painted in a light pink wash over rough-finished plaster. She said she was five minutes away but not running because she was in red silk everything and any perspiration would show. Bianca listened – he thought with delight – as he waxed on about Gloria. "Is she as good as she sounds?"
"Yes."
"I didn't have to ask her to stay the night as you suggested; she came right out and said there could be extras after dinner."
"The strumpet."
"No, she just sounded eager to become my partner."
"Well, I hope you will be happy. Marty, that comment about inviting candidates to sleep with you – I was distracted and sent it off without adding 'Joke' in brackets."
"Oh, so it wasn't meant to be an offensive comment?"
"No, of course not. I'm so...Martin Young. You are teasing me. You know damn well I wouldn't say such a thing with serious intent."
"I did notice the sentence didn't end in a fullstop, so I guess that let's you off the hook."
"Thank you – now go back to thinking about Miss Honeypot or better still talking to your hostess and her guess while I concentrate on arriving there in one piece; these male layabouts on the street are swarming around me like a pack of blood-starved mosquitoes."
"Oh God, where are you? I'm on the way."
"That was an exaggeration – one is nursing a bloody cheek walking away with his mate who's just apologized to me excessively and asked that I not call the cops. I'll be there within minutes. Tell Alice you love her hair – she worries about her hair."
The conversation died as Bianca arrived at the table after waving away the maitre d'. "Oh hello darling," Alice said, holding up still well-formed lips to be kissed. "Dressed to kill – just as well as Romeo here has gone on about my hair and you know what that compliment usually earns."
"That's naughty Alice," Bianca replied, finishing off in whispering something to Alice in what Marty knew, having taken the language at high school, was fluent French, spoken so fast he missed most of it in his translation.
Alice laughed delightfully and those at the table responded as guest always think they should and laughed with the hostess.
"Y-you look gorgeous," Marty complimented. "How on earth does that delicate silk top stay up?"
"There is substantial mass just below the top, in case you haven't noticed," she whispered, feeling rather girlish as she did so.
"I'd noticed the legs which are great but didn't focus properly on the superstructure."
"Are you asking me to pull my dress-top down to give you a proper look?"
"Bianca," he hissed. "Behave yourself."
Alice sitting at the head of the table, with Marty on her left, obviously had hearing far too good for her years. She leaned into Marty and said, "Bianca, her mother and me thrive on repartee. If you wish to get lucky with Bianca you'll have to tickle her intellectual fancy; telling her to behave herself is not going to allow you to achieve your goal, believe me."
Aghast, Marty look around for the men's room but didn't spot it. Alice's hand slipping on to his thigh and giving him a horse-bite made him wish he had.
"Alice," he croaked. "How is your husband?" The hand slid away from his leg as she replied he was presently in England attending to a flock of pedigree maiden ewes. Marty attempted desperately to avoid spluttering a mouthful of wine over Alice and the white linen tablecloth and succeeded. His vision on her husband 'attending' his flock was quite inappropriate.
Marty had a lively conservation as he walked Bianca to her brilliantly situated apartment and declined to go up, instead flagging a passing cab to retrieve his car from the car park near his workplace. They embraced lightly and kissed in much that same manner, Marty receiving the distinct impression that Bianca, handing his back his jacket that he'd draped over her shoulders, had cooled on him somewhat on the walk home. Only when he was gliding along in the cab did he recall their principle conversation on that walk of just over ten minutes – Gloria.
Oh crap he sighed, aware he'd committed a cardinal.
His fingers in his jacked touched cardboard. Oh crap he sighed; Alice had dropped that card into his pocket telling him to come and see her – early afternoon was quiet, a good time. She usually worked mornings. Quiet for what, he asked already aware of the probably answer, wondering how old were women when they finally gave up sex. Thank God he didn't have to think anymore about Alice and the fast lane; sweet gentle Gloria would keep him focused on reality. He wondered what her preferred position was a let out a long sigh.
"Are you all right buddy?" the cabdriver enquired.
"Yep, just thinking it' Saturday tomorrow, the day the pace slackens off."
"You young bucks are too job focused," said the sage at the wheel. "That woman in red you were with. If you don't mind me saying so but she was hanging out for it and all you did was to peck her on the lips."
"What's so wrong with that?"
"Woman approaching thirty want action, not being left on the doorstep with just a peck on the cheek. They want action to remind themselves they're doing their best to ensure they don't stay on the shelf permanently."
"You don't say. What makes you an expert?"
"Five older sisters all married. I have a wife and a girlfriend with one of mine and the wife's had five. You'll never see two more satisfied women."
"You're a hero, Mac."
Arriving at the 'farmhouse' as that's what grandpa called it because when it was constructed the property spread over 1400 acres, Marty eyed the ranch-house style home built snugly into the wooded hillside overlooking a stream. Although most of the land had been cut-up into 12 acre blocks, this block being 30 acres, it still was idyllic rural New Zealand to him, even after midnight under a half moon. Inside it was typically a bachelor's retreat – a little messy, no flowers, emphasis on electronics but nevertheless clean because old Mrs Parsons came two mornings a week to do the housework and his washing.
Marty pulled out his phone and looked at it with a 'should I/shouldn't I' expression but the alcohol in his blood pushed him into daring mode. He called Bianca because he felt guilty having talked excessively about Gloria; Christ he was as thick as one of his fence posts.
She answered instantly before he had completely rehearsed what he'd say, knowing a straight out apology wouldn't work with here; she'd want a subtle crawling on hands and knees and two quick licks of her elegant feet – assuming her feet were like the rest of her. So he thought her of her elegant pussy and sighed. One smack over his teeth from her for saying that would be the end of that.
