Peyton Finds Her Place

CHAPTER 1

The sky was dark with an approaching rain dump and Annalee Roach-Simpson's face reflected the mood of the weather as she went with jaw-set into the dayroom to confront the embarrassment of her family, her unmarried 30-year old daughter Peyton.

"Hi mom."

"We need to talk."

"Shoot."

"What on earth does that mean?"

Peyton put down the lurid magazine, 'Males Bare It All'. Carefully she tucked it away from her mother's searching eyes.

"What kind of magazine is that?"

"Nothing."

"I've not heard of a magazine of that name."

"It's an economic review of revisionists' policies of the past decade."

"God I wish I'd gone to university and then would know what you talk about. But that's diverting. You'd fare much better reading true romance magazines."

God had her mom seen the magazine cover? "Um for what purpose?"

"To teach you the things you need to know about engaging in a romantic relationship. How many sexual relationships have you had: twenty?"

"Two."

Her mom frowned but then smiled, "What daily?"

"In my brief venture into sexual relationships only two men have burrowed into my tunnel of love although not at the same time of course."

"Your body must be screaming for it. How long did those relationships last?"

"Greg had his way with me for three years and after a gap Athol flitted between me and his wife for five years and since his wife broke up our subversive behavior, no guy has been near me for more than a year."

"Athol our family accountant?"

"Yes were you not aware he is carnally oriented?"

"No," Annalee said with interest and then catching herself said of course not. That was not the purpose of Mr Mann's relationship with the family.

"Your father has asked me to talk to you about you being an embarrassment to this family. Your two older sisters have been married for several years and your younger brother has been married for two years. We wish you to find a suitable suitor and lead him to the altar and then depart from this house. Oh I don't want this to sound too harsh. You are not under extreme pressure."

"Well okay mother. Give me six months. If I haven't found a guy by then I will still leave this house."

A discussion followed and ended with Annalee agreeing to give her daughter $5000 in addition to her weekly allowance to buy male-appealing clothing.

When her mother left the room Peyton began calling her friends, most of whom were married, to find out how to meet a suitable suitor.

The suggestions included: Attend university debates, go to clubs after midnight, get involved in Internet dating, join a Swingers Club as a volunteer for threesomes, get a job and go after the boss's son, start going to church, wear a short skirt and sit in hotel lobbies and prey on guys shopping alone in supermarkets.

Reviewing that list Peyton thought she hadn't realized how shallow most of her friends were. She tossed up whether to go to her room and use her dildo while reading her new magazine or go down to her favorite river café for coffee.

Coffee won. She had no idea why.

Jan the owner, a friend of her mother's, saw Peyton approaching and was at the entrance to greet her.

"Hi darling."

"Hi Jan," Peyton said as they kissed. How are you faring after your break-up?"

"It's pretty depressing really," Jan sighed. "I haven't met anyone who looks as if he could rev my engine."

"Have you tried attending debates at the university or going to church or preying on guys shopping alone in supermarkets?"

"Omigod what wonderful ideas," Jan gasped. "I'll try all three immediately. Peggy is making your coffee. Um darling, could you bring me up to speed. Do couples these day still do it on the first date?"

"There appear to be two options in force from what I can make out. Some females refuse to open their legs before at least the third date while hot bitches go the other way and insist being screwed before they will consider dating. I recommend you be flexible and offer only token resistance to indicate you are not exactly a slut."

"Oh darling thanks for such wonderful advice and support."

"It's a pleasure. I also suggest you have condoms with you at all times."

Jan had another thought. "Um just one more thing. If a guy has had a vasectomy can he still do it?"

"I think so because as far as I know the surgeon only cuts his nuts out, leaving the penis at the same length."

Both women looked rather shaken.

Peggy arrived with coffee when Jan left. "That guy over there is an Australian tourist and asked would I introduce you."

"Okay wheel him over."

"But he is quite capable of walking."

"Oh right," Peyton sighed, wondering if her humor was really that lousy or was Peggy just thick.

"Miss Peyton Roach-Simpson, this is Mr Hugo Hatton. Please sit Mr Hatton."

Peyton eyed the blond guy. "I was told if I wanted to pick up a guy I should wear a short skirt and sit in a hotel lobby. Would you think that would work for me Mr Hatton?"

"Oh please call me Hugo. I think it could prove to be a huge waste of time."

"Damn."

"Don't despair. I'm engaging in the reverse role model and applying the technique of using a third party to make the introduction and I now must attempt to impress you enough to allow me to date you."

"Well it seems to be working Hugo. Please call me Peyton."

"Oh we are making good progress. I come from Australia. Do you know where Australia is?"

"I believe it lies just off New Zealand."

Hugo sighed and said that answer disappointed him. He'd almost wished she'd been like most Americans and replied she hadn't a clue. Still sounding displeased with Peyton's reply, he asserted Australia was many times larger than New Zealand.

"And that is supposed to make Australia the more significant country?"

Apparently Hugo had never been challenge that way and he looked confused.

"Would you like to have sex?" Peyton asked candidly.

Hugo's eyes became glazed. "What?"

"Oh I apologize. Obviously my body has no appeal to you."

"Your body?" he said, the now unglazed eyes rolling over the delicious curves with the speed of an Aussie surfer when taking the drop.

Hugo following Peyton like a puppy into the summerhouse in her parent's garden where she had a day bed. The room was set up as her studio where she carried out contract editing of manuscripts for book publishers.

"Gosh you read a lot."

"Yes," she said, realizing Hugo possibly had no idea what manuscripts were. But did it matter? She had him here and so it would be a waste not to use him.

She said firmly, "Take your clothes off."

He was stripped before she was out of her jeans.

Well Hugo was good at something.

Peyton noted the huge balls. "Obliviously you haven't had a vasectomy."

Hugo's magnificent all-over suntan turned sickly white. "Oh god, don't mention that word."

"Sorry I meant it in jest."

That cursory apology and explanation returned Hugo's normal coloring.

"I've been told young American women won't do it without their mom's approval. You best call your mom to see if she approves."

"That's information is nonsense, who made that claim?"

"A big fat woman immigration officer at the airport."

Peyton grinned and hurriedly finished removing everything she was wearing.

"God you are worth fucking," Hugo said leering.

"Well in that case it will cost you a hundred bucks."

It was meant to be a joke. She watched amazed as he went to his jeans and pulled a hundred off his billfold and then heard him say she was severely under-charging. Peyton took the money hoping it would teach Hugo not to behave so stupidly. [Two days later she bought a pair of fashionable high-heel sandals she decided to name her Hugo sandals. None of her girlfriends admiring the purchase had ever heard of the Hugo brand.]

Hugo caught her with her pants down, so to speak. He moved in, grabbed a breast in a slightly painful squeeze and while that diverted her shoved his length up her.

Gasping Peyton backed over to the bed, Hugo attempting to pump as they went.

"Condom?" she whimpered.

Hugo appeared deaf.

He left as soon as they finished, leaving Peyton astonished that so much semen could come from one guy from one fuck. If it hadn't been for Hugo's intellectual deficiency, his obvious experience in paying for sex and his partial deafness, she may have asked him to marry her.

After a sleep Peyton padded over to help her mom get dinner.

Annalee said, "You look fucked darling. Had a tough afternoon editing a revisionist's diatribe?"

Peyton though those were smart comments from her shopping mall savvy mom.

In following days Peyton spent her mom's clothing donation and some of her own money. Besides clothes, shoes and a most appealing pair of sandals, she had her legs waxed and her pubic hair professionally trimmed and freshly cleared hair around the perimeter inhibited from regrowth with epilight treatment. She had her blonde hair highlighted and eyebrows shaped and received training on how to improve her make-up techniques.

When her girlfriends viewed the finished result half of them said they'd like to date her and her mom said the same thing, Peyton was quite sure some of them were not jesting and that would include her mom.

At the lingerie shop, the visiting consultant Dr John Reynolds personally fitted her with the design and size of bra he recommended and the swine seduced her in the dressing room but magnanimously said, "No charge." Initially Peyton thought he meant for the sex but when she went to pay for the six bras the counter clerk smiled and said "no charge ma'am."

Edward the male hairdresser had come on strongly and he was so good with her hair that Peyton almost relented, suspecting he was gay. She felt it necessary to politely refuse to go to the back room with him when he confessed he only wished to lick her butt. She pretended to be disgusted and thought what a creep but what a magnificent hairdresser.

Peyton was knowledgeable enough to know rejecting Edward's pitch was one of those dilemmas women face. Well it was her best cut and shape ever and she decided to continue to tolerate the creep's hands over her in future to allow him to maintain his creation with her hair but she would safely truss up in her tightest jeans.

Tony the Italian gardener expressed fulsome praise about how magnificent Miss Peyton now looked. Bolstered with such admiration, and coming from a totally independent source, Miss Peyton pulled the astonished 19-year old into the summer house and gave him what she believed would be his first real fuck but emphasized there would be no repeats. Tony thanked her and said his father could be interested in Miss Peyton but Miss Peyton politely said no way.

Peyton had to buy paperweights to hold down the manuscripts and her notations because her mom kept opening all the doors and windows saying the summerhouse smelt like a whorehouse. Peyton wisely didn't ask her mom how did she know the smell of a whorehouse. In the past month she'd brought sixteen different guys home to access their suitability for matrimony. Two had appeared to pass all assessments but when Peyton proposed to them the bastards both sheepishly admitted having lied to her when claiming they were single and unattached. That reminded Peyton what her mom and two of her aunts often said, that men would do almost anything to deceive a woman for sex.

With all her contracts completed, Peyton closed down the summerhouse and, as planned some months earlier, went to England with her parents for the summer. Her father had hired a summerhouse in southern England at a place the owners called 'The Lakes' but to the disappointment of the Americans the three lakes were three small ponds belonging to the neighboring golf club. That first night Annalee and Hamish got wasted on French wine. Peyton found them asleep on the dinning table, obviously halfway through sex because they were still locked in position.

God parents could be so delinquent.

Next morning they thanked Peyton for putting them both to bed and for clearing away.

The property owner's wife arrived unannounced and invited Annalee to 'go up to London' shopping with her and Annalee thought this was shaping up as her best vacation ever. Then the woman's husband called around to invite Hamish to go shooting at real lakes but when Hamish saw the quality of the French maid who'd arrived to do daily house-keeping, He was indecisive until his daughter whispered, "Pussy will keep daddy, go and blast poor water-fowl to smithereens."

Peyton spoke to the young female peasant in her early twenties in halting French and was astounded to learn Claudette was studying for her doctorate in education in England.

"Oh damn how do you say this in French," Peyton fumed and Claudette said in perfect English, "Speaking to me in English is okay Peyton. My mother is English and for the past five years all my education has been here in England."

Peyton hugged the younger woman in delight and Claudette said in surprise, "I thought you would look down on me being a servant?"

"Why? I worked in restaurants when I was at college because although my parents are wealthy they said if other students had to work to earn money to live on then so should I. Basically I think people who work hard for their money at any level are good people."

Claudette agreed. "I don't really need the money but I live with Mr and Mrs Harrison who own this property. Mrs Harrison is my aunt, my mother's sister and because reliable help is hard to find around here my aunt engaged me. She insisted nothing must go wrong with your stay because with your guys being Americans she had charged double the usual rental."

They chatted as Claudette worked and Peyton helped make the beds. The sheets and pillowcases would be changed daily because Mrs Harrison believed Americans were fastidious about cleanliness because she'd learnt that from watching American films.

Peyton laughed and Claudette giggled and said, "I think so too. It's like the English believing all French women are superb cooks. Oh yeah?"

They laughed and Claudette invited Peyton to meet her at the village pub that night where they would eat and drink and meet men. "You like men huh?"

"Yes and men like me," Peyton said confidently.

The next day Mrs Harrison invited Peyton to go to golf with her.

"Your mother told me you played college golf."

"Yes and I would love to accept your invitation."

"Well I have lined up two of my cronies and booked. What is your golf handicap?"

"Five. I'm not all that good."

Mrs Harrison managed to close her mouth and then invited Peyton to call her Claire.

Peyton had a great time despite the other three women being on handicaps in the high twenties. She saw birds and small wild animals she'd never seen before and rather than ride in motorized carts the women pulled trolleys loaded with their clubs, additional clothing, drinks and food. Peyton selected a half set of hire clubs and carried the bag over her shoulder.

The three women all spoke in slightly different accents but they were jolly and fun to play with, talking about such things as the dirty habits of men, as if women didn't have any, what a mess the Government was making of the country, the invasion of foreign immigrants, the Queen and the stupidity of Prince Charles.

One of the women, every time she'd play a poor shot, and that was quite frequent, would let her club drop to the ground and snarl "Bugger."

The expression on her face was hilarious.

There was nothing pretentious about them despite two of them being 'filthy rich" according to Claire who confided to Peyton that the woman who kept swearing and dropping her club, Pam Sharplin, was the daughter of an Earl. She was entitled to be called Lady Pamela but insisted being called plain Pam. Peyton was left wondering about how rich was filthy rich but thought it best not to ask.

They drank several gins in the clubhouse after the game. On the way home with Claire weaving the Range Rover along the narrow road rather unsteadily she asked: "Do you indulge in female sex?"

"No sorry but I don't mind you asking. Um if you have a few drinks with my mother I suggest you ask her that same thing casually. I have suspicions about my mom."

Claire gushed, "Oh thank you darling. I could pair you up with some young men but the problem with males today is one doesn't know which ones are straight and which ones are gay. I think you should try to become friendly with Claudette and she'll put you..."

"Already accomplished. I'm going to the pub with Claudette this evening. God she's so lovely."

"Well yes and thank you for saying that. Claudette is my pride and joy. She's turned out better than my three children."

Peyton arrived home and said she'd had a lovely time at golf and had played well. What she didn't say was she'd returned a record low score by a woman on the local course, beating the previous best by three strokes. She gushed to her mom, "My partner was Mrs Pam Sharplin. She played a bit roughly be we beat our two opponents." Peyton said breathlessly, ""Mom Pam is the daughter of an Earl and is entitled to be called Lady Pamela."

"Omigod darling, you have been rubbing shoulders with royalty."

"I think the sub-structure is called the peerage mother and Pam would be right down on the list."

An hour later the house phone went and Annalee came to Peyton with the phone, looking ashen faced.

"Darling the woman said she's Pam Sharplin and played golf with you this afternoon."

Peyton returned the house phone to her mother who looked almost overcome.

"Oh Pam has invited us over to the manor house tomorrow for Sunday lunch. What's a manor house?"

"I have no idea. We must ask Claire. This is very confusing because based on our understanding of language, the English are not altogether English are they?"

* * *

When the family returned home from their fabulous summer in England, Peyton realized her mom was in love with Claire. God their parting at the airport had been so embarrassing, both screaming they would reunite in another life, whatever that meant. Peyton also knew she had only a month to go before was had to leave the family home.

The next day she sat in a hotel foyer wearing her shortest skirt and two hours later suffered the humiliation of being ejected by security guys as a suspected hooker after she'd been unable to produce her room number.

The next evening she attended the book launch of an anticipated highly controversial book 'Why You Are Failing to Control Your Children'.

The author, Dr Raymond Upton, a prominent local psychologist, had almost rewritten his original manuscript accepting streams of advice from Peyton, his manuscript editor.

"This highly motivational book is likely to become a handbook for parents throughout America," said the chairman of the publishing company at the pre-launch cocktail party for book reviewers, who received their advance copies. Peyton and other people from the publishing house who'd worked on the publication were also invited to make up numbers to impress the author.

Author Upton, floating on cloud nine because the preview panel had been so bullish with its comments, hugged and kissed Peyton lavishly, thanking her profusely.

"Please Peyton, allow me to introduce my wife Marguerite, who is a consulting psychologist. She immigrated as a young woman from France."

"Yes you told me, from Calais I think."

Peyton greeted Marguerite in French that was vastly improved following her month-long contact in England with Claudette and particularly from spending two weekends with Claudette's family when only French had been spoken.

Marguerite was delighted with the greeting and thanked Peyton for being so patient and being so amazing with her ability to bring her normally very stubborn husband from Wisconsin to heel.