The Babe Unmasks

CHAPTER 1

Tired from the long flight from Australia where he'd been on a long working holiday after completing a lucrative management contract, Willis Westwood looked at the exhausted-looking young blonde standing in front of him and grinned as he always did at a pretty face above a pair of great looking tits... er natural ones.

"Are you collecting for charity?" he joked before she had time to open her mouth.

"In a manner of speaking yes. I lost my billfold in this terminal last night. It hasn't been handed in."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry enough to pay my fare to New York?"

"Er not that sorry."

The face turned pathetic. "You are about the 30th person who has refused me. I only approached people whose countenance gave me hope."

"Well it's an odd request. Most people would think you want to feed your drug habit."

The pale blue eyes and forward thrust of chin remained unwavering. "I only did drugs in my first year, going through the experimental phase."

"So you're a university student?"

"Of course I am."

Willis said patiently. "Okay no need to snap my head off. What stage are you at?"

"I graduate in computer studies in May."

Willis said he graduated in computer science. He probed and she gave the answers, indicating to his satisfaction she had a higher than normal knowledge.

"If I put up the money what security do I get?"

"My word."

She recited her home address in New York City.

"Let's have a look in your bag."

"Why, there's nothing of value in there. Just some clothes and my diary, a cheap camera and..."

"Hand me your diary."

"This is wasting time. I could be contacting other people."

"Yeah and you could be picked up by airport cops for soliciting."

"Oh god." The chin slumped in confidence.

The young woman handed across the diary and he saw the address inside the front cover was the same address in Manhattan she'd recited to him earlier.

"Why didn't you call your parents to send you money?"

"Oh mo. I didn't think that's why. Give me my diary and fuck off."

"I'll tell you what. I'll keep the diary and give you my card and hand over four hundred bucks that will be ample for your ticket, to have a decent breakfast and to get home by cab. You come to that address with the money and if I'm not home give the money to my mother and she'll give you the diary."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Jesus babe, you are the one owing money."

"All right. But don't read my diary."

"Oh, records the length of guy's dicks does it?"

"God you are foul. It contains notes about what I think but perhaps that's too deep for you."

Willis said, "I'm due at my lounge. What's it to be?"

"Take the diary, give me the money."

"I already have the diary. Here's four hundred bucks. For goodness sake have a shower and tidy up before your mom sees you; she'd have a fit but if you do that make sure you don't allow anyone to rob you of my money."

"Thanks. Do I kiss you?"

"Yeah I suppose so."

She scowled at that pathetic response and kissed him.

"Well as least you can kiss lady. Actually can I have another one?"

"Fuck off sailor," she smiled, her first smile. You better run."

Willis winked and raced off.

Two days later Willis was about to open the door when the bell went. He jerked the door open and the young woman jumped a foot into the air in fright.

It was the airport waif.

"Sorry Monique. I was just on my way out."

"You know my name. You awful man; you've read my diary."

"God, don't be so punishing. I looked at just the inside front cover to get your name so either mom or I could call you by your name."

"Oh, sorry. Here's ten 100s. Dad said to give you the lot because you were a Good Samaritan."

"Nah just the four hundred."

"Do you want me to shove the lot up your ass?"

Willis laughed. "Whew, just what do they teach you at university these days?"

"The basics of survival."

"I'll grab your diary; it's just inside the door. Want to come for a beer?"

"Is that where you were heading?"

"Yeah."

"No thanks."

Willis scowled. "I knew you'd rudely reject my kind offer. Here's your diary. Fuck off."

She stood staring at him. "I suppose I could come with you."

"Jesus!"

They sat on stools at the bar, looking at each other closely.

"You look pretty good washed up. Show me your legs."

"Is that what a gentleman would ask a lady?"

"No never, but those honorifics exclude us."

She ignored everyone around them and slowly pulled up her loose skirt. "How far?"

"As far as it goes."

Still calm, she pulled her skirt right up until flattening against the mounds of her stomach and breasts.

Guys were peering behind Willis when he said, "Great legs and immensely pleasurable stocking tops and yes you are wearing something almost large enough to be called panties. Pull your skirt back down."

A couple of guys behind Willis went "Oink, oink, oink." He ignored them.

He patted her shoulder. "I have embarrassed you. I truly had no idea you had the guts to do that. I expected you to chicken out."

She smiled coldly. "I suppose I ought to say pull out your dick for me to suck?"

"God Monique. This is my local bar. Have a heart; that would get us tossed out and banned for life. Then where would I meet you?"

She said curiously, "Are we to meet again?"

"Yes, very regularly I hope."

She sipped her beer and studied him intently. "And exactly what do you think we have in common?"

"I have no idea. But over time we'll find out, won't we?"

She drummed fingers on the bar. "I was going to look up old boy friends to see what was doing but I suppose you could substitute. Will you come to my house for Christmas dinner?"

"Yes if you come for Christmas lunch at my house. I shall be cooking for my parents."

"What a can of beans followed by a can of fruit?"

"Something like that. You really are a cheeky bitch... aw and brave. God at LA in your position I would have died rather than scrounge for money."

"Well I did consider that possibility but then I got thinking about how I valued life. I am beholden to you. I guess I better let you have sex with me and then I'll have written off my debt."

"No you will not. No way would I slither up you on those terms."

"Slither up me? God no one has ever said that to me before. If you use that term regularly it's a wonder you ever get laid."

"Well I require some other compelling reason before you'll experience that from me."

Monique smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You appear to have wonderful legs."

"And you appear to talk a great deal for a guy. You're not bi are you?"

"God no. Monique please, Oh how could you?" Willis said, with some arm waving and two slaps to the head.

"Calm down. I accept from that denial and animated display you are not bi-sexual."

"Thank you. You must not frighten me like that."

Monique looked at Willis as if undecided he'd been seriously reacting to her comment questioning his sexuality.

Later Monique left for home thinking about him. That was something she rarely did about a five-minute guy, er any guy she'd just met. He was well... a little unusual and that made him interesting. God all that talking from a guy was tiring.

He'd even surprised her when she was leaving. When she stood and said she was off although he stood he made no effort to reach out for her. She had to walk forward and kiss his cheek and say goodbye. Talkative Joe, the guy who slithered, then nodded instead of saying anything and looked grave.

Grave? Christ he expected never to see her again! Well that made him interesting. All guys expected to see her again, especially the dreamers. She repeated her Christmas Day invitation in three days' time and he appeared pleased to have the offer confirmed.

That evening when putting on her sleep-to-dream CD before jumping into her bed (the bed she'd thought in the depth of despair at the airport at LA she'd never sleep in again) Monique thought of her hero; a hero who slithered? He had to be kidding, she giggled, and reached for her phone.

Willis had another beer after Monique left with the image of her stocking tops burnt into his mind. He'd always thought the appearance of a woman at her stocking tops was indicative of breeding: slender thighs where the stockings top met exposed flesh classified a woman, providing she wasn't emancipated, as a thoroughbred. Say what you like about quality grandparents and parents, manners and intelligence but in his book slender upper thighs was the real measure of a classic-bred woman.

On the short walk home he thought about Monique's slender upper thighs.

He entered the apartment and his mom chided him for not wearing a coat and he thought god don't women like to fuss, er older women. Monique wouldn't care if he wore nothing. Er maybe. There was not much he knew about her.

In the warm apartment the smell of cooking adding a little extra to the atmosphere. "Mom, dad... is it okay this year if we have our main Christmas Day meal around noon?"

"We have done so for the past five years. You father thinks he can eat more if he eats at midday and it works well for him also at Thanksgiving."

"Thanks."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you so anxious to have Christmas dinner at midday? For the past five years you did nothing but groan about it. Ohmigod you've found a woman mad enough to invite you home for Christmas dinner."

Willis shuffled.

"There I knew it. Charlie your son has found a woman who's taking an interest in him."

"What's the news about that?"

"They usually go out with him once and then dump him."

Charlie said slyly, "Perhaps this one is doing it the other way round."

Gloria looked puzzled.

"What?"

Gloria said it didn't matter so Charlie asked where was his dinner.

Gloria prodded away over dinner until Charlie said, "Will you shut up about this woman. The boy has said he knows virtually nothing about her and gave you her name. When he says he knows virtually nothing about her he means he knows fuck all. Now can I be any clearer than that?"

"No Charlie."

"Thank god for that. Christ how can you expect my food to digest when you go on and on like that?"

Silence fell until, "What kind of name is Monique Bolton-Rogers?"

"Gloria!"

"Sorry Charlie," she said demurely. "How was your day in the glory of retirement?"

He scowled. "Same as always. Boring."

Willis managed to conceal his grin. It was often like this at mealtime; one of the reasons he'd missed being at home when working his way round Australia.

Willis went to his room after helping his dad clear away and started packing away old books including old study books thinking he might as well get a few bucks for them. Other stuff he'd just dump. His mom was right, what kind of name was Monique Bolton-Rogers? One would think her parents had connections with dynasties or bred horses or dogs in England. For god sake, why couldn't people focus on normality?

At 11:30 he was ready to call it a day.

His phone went. Normally Willis would answer saying "Yeah?' but he'd punched in her number at the bar and therefore was forewarned the caller was Miss Bolton-Rogers.

An Australian greeting jumped to mind and he added a bit to it: "G'day, can't you sleep?"

She giggled, the sound dropping like musical notes. "Willis?"

"Yeah."

"I have been sprawled on my bed unable to sleep."

"What doing?"

"Willis!"

"Oh sorry. My mouth sometimes jumps ahead of my mind."

She now sounded prim. "I've been worried you might not wish to see me again."

"Who me?"

She hesitated. "Have you got someone there with you?"

"Of course not. Mom would skin me alive if I had a chick in my bedroom with the door closed."

"Well I wondered who else you thought I was addressing. Is the door closed?"

"Yeah and as I said there's no chick here. Besides I can't help but want to see you again."

"Oh why's that?

"I'm unlikely to get a better offer for Christmas dinner."

The notes of her laughter rang out musically again. She asked if he had a tuxedo and he said his dad's fitted him.

"We dress formally for Christmas dinner. Please wear a tux. Oh Willis please don't chose one of those ties with flashing lights. Mother would not be amused.

Willis thought he should ask. "Why do you have a double name?"

"Bolton was mom's maiden name. Her father and grandfather made the family highly respect the family name and made dubious claims the Bolton name under different spellings went back to the eighth century and our lot was there at the start. Mom received a much more expensive wedding present from her parents than she might otherwise have received by deciding her married name would be Bolton-Rogers."

"Sounds wacky to me."

"And to me. Well Christmas Day is next week I could have been dead or in prison had it not..."

"Baby, please. I've got the message. I appreciate you are so grateful but I have no wish to be reminded of my gesture hourly or even weekly. You probably think romantically I did it out of a sense of gallantry whereas I thought if I didn't my mom would kick my ass."

"That's a lie."

"Well how about I thought under that chest with two nice looking lumps would beat a lovely heart of a girl her mom would want home for Christmas."

"Ohmigod, that's it. You wanted me home for Christmas. Ohmigod."

"Christ."

"Okay, okay. I'll get your mind on to something else Willis. "How's your dick."

"What?"

She giggled and cut the call.

"I'll murder the bitch," Willis groaned.

Fifteen minutes later his phone went.

"I'm outside your apartment in mom's red BMW. Come to me. I need kisses."

"Okay, on my way."

Willis got into the car quickly. Although she was doubled parked no vehicles were approaching so he reached across and kissed her deeply. She pulled his hand on to her left breast and groaned. He reached down and unzipped and pulled his rapidly hardening cock above his briefs and grabbed her hand and pulled it down.

But she resisted.

"No, no. Just kiss and play with my breasts."

Willis was really fired up and thought about shaking her to get her to see reason. How could she do this and not fuck?

The car's hazard lights were blinking and no traffic was moving in the all-residential street. If she cooperated he could easily pull her over on to his shaft, lifting her legs clear of the shift lever.

Monique pulled her tongue out of his mouth and pulled away.

She then pushed him by his chest toward the car door.

"Go, go. I told mom I only wanted the car for half an hour and I have the drive back home."

"Jesus. Why didn't you give yourself time to kiss and then fuck?"

Monique said urgently, "That's why I fixed the time limit. I said I just wanted kisses. Now go, go."

Willis staggered out of the car all upset, his dick sticking out straight into the near-freezing night air. He gave the disappearing rear lights of the car a huge obscene gesture, swinging two fingers from his waist to shoulder height and in frustration screamed, "Fuck!" and staggered across the street into the lobby, stuffing his dick away. He figured it was probably as frustrated as he was.

They didn't communicate again until Christmas Day.

* * *

The doorbell rang and everyone looked at Willis. He was dressed semi-formally, as was everyone else.

"Er am I meant to get the door?"

"Yes," came the chorus.

Everyone stood to get a better view of the mystery woman.

Willis opened the door and said "Jesus."

Those inside the room with good hearing heard a lovely voice say, "Actually it's Monique."

"Please come in Monique. You look yummy."

"Why thank you kind sir."

Into the room brushing past Willis came a vision dressed in a short Christmas green designer dress and a silk Christmas red bolero jacket.

"Ohmigod, you are so beautiful," Willis's sister Mira gaped and her boyfriend said "Jesus," producing a huge scowl from Mira.

The older people politely kept their spontaneous thoughts to themselves.

Willis introduced Monique first to his mother and father, and cringed when his mom in her best white lace dress, purchased in a sale fourteen years ago, curtsied and said, "How lovely it is to meet you at long last Miss Bolton-Rogers."

Then followed Gloria's sister Helene and husband Joe, Mrs Rankin from apartment 14 who had no one to asked her for a meal on Christmas day, Charlie's best friend and fellow liar, Salty Fellows and younger wife Angel who still made calls on men who lived alone for their $150 'donation' and Mira and her fiancé Jacob. He appeared more intent in getting a view down Monique's dress than greeting her.

Charlie asked Monique if she would prefer beer or gin. She asked, "Is there champagne?" and Charlie said he could mix her one-third beer and two-thirds gin and that might come close to looking like champagne.

Willis cringed.

Monique laughed and said, "I don't think so Charlie. Would anyone else prefer champagne?"

Everyone but Charlie said yes and Monique said, "Jacob, please get the six-pack of champagne just outside the door. My father brought it up for me should it be required."

Gloria said, "Hurry Jacob before someone steals it."

Christmas lunch at the Westwood's apartment that year really rocked.

Yes the champagne got people going but Monique demonstrated she was an excellent party girl and began with a couple of foul but funny jokes that had some of the gathering rolling in laughter. She then dug into her carry-bag and pulled out a bunch of funny hats and she even managed to get Charlie wearing one. She dug into the bag again and pulled out a mouth organ, whistles, a clacker thing and in one final dive Monique pulled out a 30-button Anglo concertina

Charlie went off and returned with his trusty two serving spoons and proved very adept at banging them together. Remembering she was the hostess and producing her almost-forgotten flute, Gloria said, "Let's be having carols." Both she and Monique exhibited fine voices and they began slowly with 'Silent Night'.

Willis kept ducking away but rather than thinking he must have a weak bladder, Monique realized that he was now wearing an apron and really was the cook.

A real feast was served, starting with poached salmon on a bed of spinach, then Beef Wellington and roasted vegetables, followed by dessert. Everyone complimented Willis for the spread. He beamed and turned red in embarrassment when Monique announced a little drunkenly, "Monsieur Chef, you may put your shoes under my bed any time you wish."

"Let him have another helping of salted caramel cheesecake pudding first Monique," Charlie called and everyone howled in laughter.

Willis put Monique into a cab at 3:30 and she reminded him of the address and said 7:00 sharp. "We should have a sleep."

"You'll have to help your mom with dinner."

"No she's having in caterers."

"Oh."

Willis was getting the message that if her parents had in caterers and gave away half cases of French champagne then they must be quite well heeled.

"Would you like a kiss?"

She sniffed and said she'd like a whole lot more because it was Christmas but because he was so mean she guessed a kiss would do.

Willis kissed her and was grumpy because the cabbie was still laughing his head off after having heard Monique's loud declaration.

Bleary-eyed, Gloria woke her son at 6:40. "If you are going out to dinner you best get your skates on."

"Thanks," Willis said and looking at his watch yelled, "Shit" and dashed for the shower.

He returned to his bedroom to find his mom had laid out all his clothes. "I had the tuxedo dry-cleaned."

"Thanks mom."

"Don't rush, people are never early for their second big meal of the day."

Willis believed her and slowed down.

As the cab turned into West 85th and stopped outside an impressive dwelling Willis knew his secretive little bitch hadn't told him mommy and daddy were swimming in it and he felt uncomfortable now about showing up. He opened his mouth to say drive on when the door of the house opened and his secretive little bitch practically skipped down the steps, still wearing the same clothes she had on for lunch and without adding a tiara. At least that was something.