It all started with a simple errand to get a little cash from a cash machine. I'm one of the old school who likes the real folding stuff instead of using a plastic card. The dark black sky didn't put me off, as I've always liked driving at night. The contrasting glitzy lights of the city always reminded me of my misspent youth. I have my favourite cash machine, easy parking at night and not far from a McDonalds who still make the best chocolate shakes in the world. It's a nice little ritual, grab a shake, some fries if I'm in the mood and then park outside the cash machine to savour my chilled shake. While I live close by, there's a reluctance to take them home which you will no doubt come to understand as you read on.
Nothing was different about this night with the exception having to park a few slots back from the cash machine. My fries were quickly eaten as I sat listening to my favourite old time blues CD while sipping my shake and watching the world pass me by. A battered blue Chrysler pulled to the kerb in front of me and a lanky individual unfolded himself from the passenger seat onto the footpath. I guess it was his nervous searching of the landscape that really caught my attention, his eyes glancing over my old Toyota Corolla without registering my presence. He opened the rear door and helped a tall brunette from the Chrysler; with his hand on her arm she was escorted towards the cash machine. I then watched as the driver exited the car and nervously looked around before making his way to the couple.
My interest grew at the interaction of the three, and although I couldn't hear, I could see menacing intimidation on the men's faces and the fear of the brunette. Before my retirement I had been a supervisor of people and my ability of reading body language was second to none. I then caught a glimpse of a small handgun produced threateningly from under the passenger's jacket as the brunette searched urgently through her purse. As I reached for my cell phone and dialled 911, a card was found and slipped into the machine. With a pounding heart I watched as the cash was snatched roughly from the brunette and pocketed by the driver. I was reading the registration of the Chrysler to the police operator as the brunette was escorted roughly back to the rear seat. The police dispatcher asked twice about the handgun and then asked if I would follow the Chrysler while they called for assistance, and as I had nothing to go home for, I said yes.
I was lucky that the Chrysler headed back into the busy part of town where my smoky Toyota could easily keep pace. I stayed one car back and provided updates to the dispatcher of my journey through various sets of traffic lights. A couple of minutes later they informed me that the Chrysler had been stolen earlier in the night. When I announced that I was on Charlton St heading across the intersection of West St, I was asked to turn on my hazard flashers, about the only thing on my battered Toyota that still worked. A blue police cruiser pulled from a driveway and quickly accelerated up behind me. The dispatcher asked me to pull over and allow it past, seconds later the night was disturbed by blue and red flashing lights. The Chrysler eased slowly to the kerb and the cruiser slipped in behind it, a second unseen cruiser shot past both cars and knifed into the kerb blocking any escape. I pulled in some way back as instructed.
What happened next was just like a movie. In an instant, four cops exited the cruisers and surrounded the Chrysler, a shot gun and a handgun presented at the front window of the Chrysler. The rear door opened and the brunette almost stumbled to the ground making her escape, she found refuge in the safety of the cruiser. One at a time, the occupants of the Chrysler were ordered out at gun point and ordered to lie face down on the footpath, then quickly cuffed and frisked. Two more cruisers arrived and a search of the Chrysler provided two handguns, a semi automatic rifle from the trunks plus other items of interest. One of the officers knelt on the kerb and spoke to the brunette for a few minutes and then looked towards me. Eventually, he left the brunette, made his way to my car and perched himself in the passenger seat, he smiled as he looked over at me.
"Sir, that was a good call." he said. "Reckon you saved that lady from rough time. She was coming out of the gym when they dragged her into their car. I don't think their intentions were honourable that's for sure, robbery for sure, probably sexual assault and who knows what else. We need you come down to the station and make a statement while it's all fresh in your mind."
It was after two in the morning when I finally got home and climbed alone into my single and lonely bed.
Lynn and I have been married for close to forty years. It's a marriage that had long lost its spark and was more a cohabitation than a relationship. For me, it was a case of marrying the wrong girl, as for Lynn I don't think she cares about anything anymore. We married young, both in our teens. It was pregnancy rather than love that forced us down the isle; it was just the way things were done back then. If I'd known what was in store for me, I would've done a runner for sure. I guess the kids years were okay, but after they left home our relationship deteriorated. We had different interests and separate friends and we grew apart, to the extent we had our own bedrooms. As for sex, I had forgotten what it was all about.
I retired at the age of sixty and my constant presence around the home did nothing for our relationship. Statistics suggested that life expectancy after retirement wasn't great, but I'd put in too many hard years to give up easily. Research also told me that I needed exercise; both brain stimulation and physical. It was the local gym that opened a whole new world for me. Membership for us oldies was inexpensive if we worked out Monday to Friday during work hours. There I met retired people like myself, my new found friends graciously accepting me into their fold. We worked out during the week, and in the weekends when we were banned from the gym, I was introduced to biking and canoeing. I soon had a new lease of life, my fitness and agility improved. My attitude to life changed and I took more care of my appearance.
My good wife Lynn treated my new regime with the utmost contempt and scorn. The more focused I became, the more ridicule came my way. I think she was a little disappointed that I wasn't going to die off quickly and leave her everything. She spent most of her time sprawled over the sofa stuffing herself with coffee and chocolate while watching TV. Her appearance, which had never been great, gradually deteriorated to the point where I could not help but scorn her. I guess by now you get the picture of our tranquil life together.
It was about three days after the rescue of the brunette from the Chrysler that I answered a knock at my front door early one afternoon. I was taken by surprise by the attractiveness of the young woman who stood before me. She smiled at my surprise.
"Hi, I'm Holly."
I frowned, was I missing something here I thought to myself?
"You know, I was the girl that got rescued from the car the other night."
It suddenly dawned on me who she was. I'd not got a good look at her back then as the police kept us separated to ensure our stories didn't get contaminated.
"Sorry." I replied. "I didn't recognise you."
She smiled, "Its okay. I came to thank you for what you did. If wasn't for you, I don't want to think about what might have happened."
It was only polite to invite Holly inside and direct her into the lounge. My wife Lynn was surprised to find herself introduced to an attractive well dressed woman. But she was also embarrassed being caught in her dressing gown and looking like the back end of a cart horse. I of course found it somewhat amusing. When Holly suggested that I'd saved her life and was here to thank me, my less than lovely wife turned to her and suggested that she was pleased that I'd saved her life, because I'd certainly fucked up hers. With that, she turned back to the TV and turned up the volume. The look on Holly's face was not pleasant, but it matched mine for sure. I beckoned my visitor back towards the front door and out into the sun.
"I'm sorry about that." I said. "It was uncalled for."
"Geez, she must be fun to live with." she muttered.
I laughed, for it was all the answer she needed. She smiled and nodded knowingly.
Over the next few minutes, Holly told me how she taken by gun point as she was getting into her car door in the gym car park. They wanted money and sex, and if she wanted to live she was to give up both with out a fight. There were tears in Holly's eyes as she told me that she thought she was going to die that night. She couldn't believe it when the police pulled them over and she managed to get away. The police told her about me recognising what was taking place outside the cash machine and ringing 911, and then following until they managed to locate the car and pull it over.
Her thanking me was kind of embarrassing; I shrugged my shoulders and suggested it was nothing, and that I kind of enjoyed the excitement of it all. Our conversation turned to the gym and we talked a little about what we were into. Her face came alive as her mind shifted from her recent ordeal.
Even without make up, Holly was stunningly attractive. Her long hair was pulled back into a pony tail leaving her face plain for all to see. Her skin was flawless, her eyes large and hazel in colour. Her lips were full and sensuous, her teeth perfect and pearly white. She was dressed casually, a white tee shirt stretched tight over a formidable bust, a pair of tight faded jeans below. I desperately wanted to take in the gentle curves of her thighs as we chatted, but her eyes firmly held mine. I lost track of time as we talked, but I cared not as I wanted this conversation to last forever. Opportunities like this were few and far between for an old man like myself.
Eventually, Holly looked at her wrist watch and frowned, "Sorry, but I need to be somewhere."
"That's okay, thanks for coming by." I said.
She looked at me with her big eyes, "Hey, I'm the one doing all the thanking around here."
I smiled, "You're most welcome. Anyone else would've done the same thing."
Holly frowned, "I'm not so sure about that. I reckon I was lucky you were there that night. You let me know if there's anything I can do for you."
I looked back at the house and then back at Holly, "I don't suppose you could take my wife with you could you?"
A sly smirk appeared on her face, "I don't think so."
We both laughed and made ready to say our goodbyes; Holly looked strangely at me for a few seconds and asked me to wait while she got something from her car. She returned and handed me a business card. On the back she had scribbled an address in blue ink.
"Come see me tonight at this address. Around eight will be fine but ring me if you can't make it." She grinned at my confusion, "Its okay; just a little thank you idea. Sorry, but I really do have to go."
A few seconds later, Holly had climbed into a red sports car and driven away. I looked down at the card she had given to me; the flip side of the hand written address was blue. The name Holly Bailey, Entertainment Consultant and a phone number was embossed in black writing. I slipped it into my pocket and might have forgotten about it if it hadn't been for my good wife. My return to the house brought me both abuse and ridicule and set up one of the bitterest altercations of our unhappy marriage. It left me unsettled and angry into the early evening, which is when I found Holly's card. Her invitation got me wondering, and needing an excuse to leave the house, I showered, dressed and after consulting a road map headed for her address.
Holly's address was a second floor apartment in a nice part of town. Her smiling face opened the door and I was invited to enter. The apartment was surprisingly small; more of a bed sit really, as far I could see it consisted of a small kitchen and lounge with a bedroom. Holly pointed to the small two seater couch and asked if I wanted a beer, a few seconds later I was in possession of a chilled Budweiser. Holly sat down on a chair opposite me a glass with of wine and grinned.
"I suppose you want to know why I invited you here?" she asked after awhile.
I took a sip of my beer and nodded.
"How broad minded are you, do you know what a call girl is?" Holly asked.
"Sure."
She laughed at my surprise, "That's what I am. Men pay me lots of money to go to bed with them, sometimes couples but mainly men."
I suddenly looked at Holly in a different light. It seemed almost impossible that this stunning and innocent looking young lady could be a call girl. I allowed my eyes to roam over her, her dark hair was now free from the pony tail she wore earlier in the day and sat nicely at her shoulders. Her yellow top was conservative but showed off the shape of her bust nicely. Below was a dark skirt that sat just above her knees, toned calves fell to slim ankles and black heeled shoes. I was embarrassed when my eyes finally rose to meet hers, for I always thought it was impolite stare.
