Caseys Safe Haven Ch 01

Just quickly, in this chapter Michael and the mysterious American meet. They will talk about sex, but it will be a short while before things start to happen between them... ...and others. And a warning - the seasons, like the spelling, are Australian. Disclaimer: so far none of the events described have occurred.

***

I'd never been to Los Angeles before. But work insisted that I needed to attend a conference there. And I'll be upfront. It was the International Conference of Actuaries. The previous year my colleague Bob Pritchard had gone to Tonga. And yes, we'd seen his pictures.

But the boss came up to my desk and told me it was my turn this year. And this year was in LA. And so I was having dinner in the hotel restaurant by myself because the flight connections from Perth meant that I had arrived a full day early and had to fend for myself until the other delegates started to arrive. I could hardly wait.

I pushed my chair back so I could investigate the main course on the enormous dish that the waiter had just placed in front of me and bumped into a chair that I didn't know was hard behind mine. I turned to apologise, looked at the woman and looked again.

"I'm sorry," I told the young thin pale women with long dark hair and slightly tired eyes. Well dressed, sharp.

"Not a bother," she replied with a smile. She too was alone.

"You're not here for the conference," I asked. Knowing it was ridiculous that someone who looked like that would be an actuary too. But I could only dream.

"What conference?" she asked with a smile that started to brighten her face, so I told her.

Well, she laughed. And laughed. I could only smile.

"You're not from around here," she noted with us both still twisted in our seats.

And in a confident voice that would change my life, I looked her in the eye and said "hey, since we're both alone and laughing, why don't you come over and join me?"

And she smiled a look with a warning and said "sure, cowboy, why not?"

And when she had settled down opposite me, I looked at her more clearly and couldn't help myself. "You're Casey Calvert?" I asked careful that no one else would hear.

"I am not," she retorted, a little too quickly.

"Okay, you're not. Who are you then," I asked trying to sound only a little incredulous. I knew who Casey Calvert was and I knew that I was looking right at her.

She looked down at her lap, trying to be coy. "My name's Shoshana Rosenberg."

"Okay Shoshana, what brings you to LA if it's not the Actuaries conference?"

"I've got some work on," she smiled, "that's true, but I'm not going to be counting stuff if that's what you do." She flashed a smile and her tight bust shimmied like that was something she had a lot of practice at.

I looked at her meal. "You're having chicken soup as a main."

"I like chicken soup," she retorted, "and I can eat whatever I like. And what is that strange accent of yours?"

"Fine Shoshana Rosenberg who is definitely not Casey Calvert and is eating chicken broth not because she's working tomorrow. I'm from Perth, in Western Australia."

She looked aghast. "Where the Hell is even that?"

So I explained to her that I lived about as far away from LA as was possible on a spherical earth and that I was sitting across from her in her home town more or less against my will. I gave her a bit of an idea about the climate in Perth and assured her that if she could understand what I was saying, she should have little trouble communicating with most of the rest of the people there.

"Against your will," she smirked, "now that's something I can understand." She mimed wearing handcuffs.

"So what are you doing here in this hotel?" I asked her, "Shoshana," for emphasis. "I thought you lived in LA."

"That's the story," she leaned forward and confided in me, "but I live out of town these days to sort of get away from things. It can get a bit intense around here."

I nodded because her look hinted she may be a bit unhappy about that situation. And there was more as we ate.

"But to be honest, I can't really get away from it there either. If you know what I mean." And a look of angst stung across her face. Maybe it wasn't all paradise.

"Well," I told her, "if ever you want to get away from it all, you could come and stay with me for a while. You would have to relax and get used to doing pretty much nothing for most of the time and get to chill out. And I could take you to shule on Shabbat. Then after that we could laze on the beach in the afternoon. You may have to get used to not being recognised. But after a while you'd probably start to unwind. At least I think you would. Perth kind of has that effect."

She gave me that sardonic Casey Calvert look that she always seems to do in the talking bits at the start of Public Disgrace when she is negotiating what the men are going to do to her. But she said nothing.

I gave her my business card. "I live alone," I added. "And in Perth we all live in large houses near the beach. Well at least I do, so there's a spare bedroom or two if you want to drop in some time."

She toyed with the business card and dropped it into her purse after a quick read. "It was nice meeting you, Michael Stillman from Perth, Western Australia. But I've got an early start in the morning. Double anal with some big boys, so I'd better not do dessert. If you know what I mean."

And she left me and my table after giving me some notes for her tip. Of course, she wiggled her arse as she left the restaurant.

The conference of course was a blast.

A few months later it was November and the weather was just turning for the better. It was a Tuesday. And I had just got inside my front door home from work when my phone rang.

"Hello," said an American woman, "is that Michael?"

"Yes, it is," I answered slightly confused, ready not to buy whatever she was about to sell.

"It's Shoshana," she said, "I'm at the airport. What day is it?"