Without You I Have Nothing

Sunlight streaming into his eyes brought Peter around.

Into the pain flooded the thought, 'My head aches. Why are the drapes open? The light is too strong.' The thoughts seemed to smash pound behind his eyes like a blacksmith's hammer forging a horseshoe as he staggered under the shower.

He knew his hangover was causing pain. With the hot needles of spray stabbing his skin, he retraced the events of the previous night.

'Can't I get anything right? I've insulted the one girl who attracted me, whose friendship I want - no, I need,' Peter smiled as he corrected himself. 'Maybe I need more than her friendship,' he admitted to himself. He pushed that thought aside, too much of a coward to give it room.

'That girl, I could only insult by getting drunk. The best thing would be a note of apology, possibly a gift of flowers and chocolates to say sorry and then never inflict my boorish presence on her again. Yes, Peter straightened. He had made a decision. That'd be best. I'll send that note with a present and not see her again.'

His rumbling stomach drove him out of the shower. With a shave coat wrapped tightly about him, he walked towards the kitchen and glanced into what he had come to consider as Jennifer's room.

Shocked out of his hangover, he stood rock still. My God, Jennifer is asleep in the twin bed. She hasn't deserted me, his mind rejoiced at the thought

Her hair, like an auburn halo, spread across the pillow and one arm stretched across the blankets. Her face was relaxed in sleep but what really drew his eyes was her nightdress. The top sagged open as her small body relaxed inside and the rounded swell of her breasts was just visible. Pearly white, the flesh contrasted with the light tan where her swimming costume ended. Peter stood still, hardly daring to breathe, drinking in the scene of promised delights at hand before coming to his senses,

"Come on, sleepy head, wake up." His gruff voice roused her.

Slowly she opened one eye. Then she jerked the second open.

"Put this over you," Peter handed her a robe from her cupboard, "otherwise with this hangover, I might forget I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Jennifer gasped, pulling the sheet to her neck.

"Besides you make that night dress look like the latest Paris Evening dress." Grinning, Peter bent low to kiss her hair. Blushing, she understood from his smile he had seen more than she intended.

A few minutes later, he was back. "Here is some tea, toast and tomato juice. Sorry, there's not more but I've been so busy I'm like Mother Hubbard. I'll have to shop this morning if my head stops aching so I can think."

They chattered and ate while he struggled to keep his eyes from wandering as the sheet slowly slid from under her chin. He obviously failed as Jennifer slapped him on the arm. "Your eyes will fall out if you stare," she admonished him as she tugged the sheet back up.

"Jennifer, there's something I must say." She tried to interrupt but Peter ignored her, "About that bet. It just happened. Bob was boasting and I got cranky. He always talks about how successful he is with women while I..." His tongue failed him.

"I know all about the bet." She stiffened as she spoke.

"No, you don't. You're not within a bull's roar. You could never know the truth. I've never had a date. I've never had anyone I could call mine. Not ever! When Bob and Ted bet me, I was so angry. I wanted to see you again and again and again and I exploded without thinking and accepted the bet."

Her eyes widened but she didn't try to interrupt.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't do that for anything. I'd rather hurt myself. I hurt you then, and embarrassed you last night. The one person in the world who means so much to me, the one person I want to call mine... I'm such a fool."

The one person he wants to call his own. Jennifer's mind reeled at the revelation. This great loveable bear of a man who had wormed his way into her heart had just made a serious admission. She continued staring at Peter for a few moments as if trying to assess his words, then gave him a push off the bed.

"Look at the time. I must fly, get out while I dress."

She saw Peter's eyes cloud as she insisted on leaving. "Don't get angry but I have a date and so have you."

Peter's spirits lifted only to crash.

"You're playing tennis."

"I don't know if I'll go." Peter searched for an excuse to retreat into his loneliness again.

"You'll go if you know what's good for you - you great bear." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "If you don't go I'll be back to thump some sense into that thick head of yours."

"Promise?" Peter grinned, "The thought makes my mouth water. I'd have to protect myself and..."

"Take that look off your face or I'll get frightened," Jennifer hugged a pillow to herself in mock alarm. "The twinkle in your eyes is so mischievous that..." She did not finish. "Oh, get out. I'm getting up."

It was just a few hours later, when Bob and Ted drove into the car park at the tennis club and parked beside Peter. Together the three friends walked to the clubhouse.

"How's the head?" Playfully, Bob slapped Peter's shoulder. "Three whiskeys and you were paralytic. God, you must be the cheapest drunk in town."

"And you must be the biggest fool." Ted was still annoyed. "Fancy giving Peter three whiskeys. You should have more sense, especially when he is so interested in Jennifer."

Peter reddened and spluttered a denial - but Ted, ignoring him, continued. "Oh, don't deny it. We're not blind. Everyone knows it but you."

"How did you get on last night?" Bob leered, wanting a running commentary on Peter's progress. Then without waiting for an answer, added, "No wonder you've got a spring in your step."

"Peter was far too drunk. Even a fool like you should know that," Ted firmly closed the subject.

"I'd like you three ruffians to meet a new club member," The President took them into the Members' Lounge. "I don't want any of you criminals dragging her off into a dark corner. She's here to play..." he paused and grinned, "tennis."

He knew of their escapades at the Christmas Party when Bob had pinned some mistletoe in the most remote corner of the clubhouse and they had vied with each other to take every female at the party under the mistletoe. Bob even managed to get the President's wife there under the pretext of discovering some vandalism.

The group of players parted and The President introduced them to Jennifer.

"Oh, I've already met these ruffians." Her laugh at Peter's surprise was delicious. "I'm so pleased you've recovered. You look almost like a new person from the last time I saw you."

Obviously, she did not want the others to know where she'd spent the night - not that anything had happened.

"I can't remember a thing." Peter could only grin sheepishly, knowing her secret was safe with him. "I was way too drunk, I'm sure Bob spiked my drinks."

"Come on, we've been called." Bob dragged Peter away. "We're to play the club champions."

What a pleasant afternoon it was. Jennifer was even paired with Peter twice and although her short white skirt and white frills distracted him, Peter played like a man possessed, determined to impress her.

"You play a good game," Jennifer toweled the beads of perspiration from her forehead. "What other games do you play?" Her twinkling green eyes calmly studied him.

For a split second, Peter thought of a Bob-like response - 'Try me.'- but he would have had to leer. Besides, this was Jennifer and he wasn't going to offend her - not intentionally. His answer was most circumspect, "I didn't know you're a tennis player. I'll have to improve my game if I want to play with you."

"Play what?" She laughed impishly, "You're being rude." The ice green of her eyes sparkled and danced in merriment, "Whatever do you mean?"

The more she teased, the more Peter blushed.

It was later when Jennifer asked Peter for a lift home, "but I have to do my hair and a myriad other things ready for the new week so..."

Peter smiled and agreed, "Of course it will be a pleasure." but on the way, he stopped at a Thai Restaurant. "You've lots to do without cooking so..."

Jennifer allowed him to take her arm and again was amazed when he greeted the waitresses in their native language. He used no menu but ordered in Thai and seemed more a welcome guest rather than a customer.

Eventually, Peter escorted her to her door and cupped her chin in one hand to tilt her lips to his. So softly did his lips brush hers, she couldn't believe this was her Peter.

Suddenly Jennifer snaked her arms around his neck and, whispering, "You can do better than that." kissed him with a ferocious passion, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and savoring his ardor, which suddenly burst over her.

She wrapped one leg around his hips as if she could not get close enough to his body and still she locked herself to him. With long tastes of her mouth, she drugged Peter making him reel, teasing him with little nips of her teeth, but still she enticed him with her sexuality until his hips moved against the smoothness of her body. For the first time in her life, she relished this power over a man, her love, as she drove him mad with his need for her as his body screamed with its desire and his love of this - his woman.

Peter's senses reeled and he stood back.

Jennifer giggled, "I owed you that - you 'stand in villain'. I'll ring you later this week." She turned and was gone.

The working week started when Peter was in the office answering the phone.

"Mr. O'Brien? Could you accept a call from Miss Jennifer Blake?" Peter was sure Jennifer's Personal Assistant was giggling.

What? As if I could not accept a call from Jennifer, was Peter's reaction but he replied, "Most certainly, I'll take all her calls."

"Peter, can you help me?" Jennifer's sweet hoarseness made Peter's heart pound.

"Jennifer, I'll do everything possible to help you. Do you want a full moon tonight so I can serenade you?"

Jennifer giggled. "Peter, be serious. Can I make an appointment to see you this week? I need your assistance."

"Yippee, Jennifer needs me." Peter's shout must have almost deafened Jennifer.

"Peter, behave and be serious. Can you afford the time to take me looking for a new car on Wednesday morning at say 9 or is your appointment book full for that day."

"My diary is full all right and every appointment has the same name - Jennifer. Funny that. However believe me I'm not complaining."

"You're so sweet, Peter. Then Wednesday morning will be all right at 9?"

"I'll pick you up at your apartment, we'll kick tires and if we finish early enough perhaps lunch. Then I'll return you to your office before taking you home."

Jennifer must have been laughing at Peter's eagerness. "I really intended playing hooky for the whole day so if you could do the same then..." Wanting more time with him, she hoped he would be free and breathed a soft sigh of relief when he answered.

Peter's mind raced, a whole day with Jennifer, now what could we do? Ah, yes... Slowly he voiced his thoughts, "That would be an excellent idea. Ted's always telling me I work too hard so now I have an excuse. I'll collect you at say 8.30, and wear 'tire kicking clothes'. We can grab a hamburger or something during the day. Promise I will get you home safely."

Not an hour later, Ted arrived.

"Peter, clear the decks." Ted marched into Peter's office, his steely eyes gleaming with anticipation, "I'm here to bring your books up-to-date. Now clean this place up a bit."

Tripping over a mudguard, he went sprawling. As he picked himself up he growled, "It's not an office. It's more like a dusty spare parts' store." Brushing his trousers, he regained his feet.

"You're as blind as ever, I don't know why you bother with glasses," was Peter's retort.

Ted always found some spare part or other between his feet. On his last visit, he had managed to shatter a headlamp. He was so bumble footed Peter wondered how he managed to be such a good tennis player.

"Why don't you change into overalls? There are plenty of clean spares and you could pretend you're a worker too," Peter tried to help.

Ted's pale grey suit was so expensively immaculate it would be a sin to get it dirty.

"Better still - come on. I have somewhere new for you to work. It's my latest acquisition." Peter led him up the stairs to the tiny flat that he had built for his late nights at the workshop. "You can approve the expense of having it built and maybe even get a tax deduction."

"So this is why you work late," was Ted's first comment.

"Wipe your feet. I don't want these rooms dirty." Peter had demanded double insulation for the apartment so the dust and noise from the workshop would not intrude. "You should be comfortable here. It's air-conditioned and sound proofed."

"This is actually a bachelor pad, eh," Ted was impressed and went exploring. "Everything you need - a shower and hot tub big enough for four, a stove to cook on, toilet, bed and table. Don't tell Bob, otherwise, he'll want a key."

Ted grinned and his eyes sparkled. "So this is where you bring your female customers for that special extra service." Ted roared at Peter's confusion and blushes.

Peter knew he was joking. Ted was no Bob so he tried to ignore the comment. "Use the phone to ring through to downstairs. Anything you need, I'll send up. Make yourself at home."

"Just send up last month's accounts and receipts with your books and I'll start. Bob's calling at 2 o'clock so don't eat until then."

Peter shook his head to tell Ted he couldn't leave the workshop but ignoring Peter's denial, Ted continued, "Surely you can leave someone in charge. If you can't, you're not doing a very good job managing this place." He began a lecture on staff management. "Call in your best worker when you go down Tell him he's foreman and give him $500 a week raise."

Peter blanched his mind rebelling, $500? Who does Ted think I am, J.D. Rockefeller? The bamboo screen, that inscrutable face of the east, he had developed in his youth slipped over his face.

His mind slipped into overdrive. I have to keep up the façade of being aware of my lack of money and lack of business acumen. It would not do Ted to know the truth.

"Wipe that blank look from your face, Old Scrooge. You can afford it many times over."

"But I still owe so much on the business." Ted knew how he had started with a partner who had died in a car accident shortly after his marriage. His widow was not pressing Peter for money but he felt honor bound to pay her as quickly as possible.

"Mavis rang me the other day to tell me she wanted to keep an interest in the business." Ted made Peter sit and listen. "She's not short of money. In fact, she's very well off now the insurance has been finalized."

Wise accountant, he continued, "She's prepared to leave the remaining $100,000 in the firm and just draw say 25% of the net profit each year if that's okay with you?"

Stretching across, he patted Peter's arm, "Can't you see Mavis is prepared to be a sleeping partner?" Then Ted's serious mood broke and he looked around. "By the look of this flat you've even prepared for this to happen." He laughed at his own joke.

Peter returned to the workshop floor and wandered around dazed. Easily he slipped into the almost penniless character that he wished to portray. His mind continued - no huge debt hanging over his head - a sleeping partner only interested in drawing a quarter of the profit.

That figure was manageable and most fair. Mavis had worked as their secretary while they got on their feet. She and Ken had been married only a few months when - and she had never returned to the workshop and their only dealings had been through Ted.

"Ted wants you," Joe ordered Peter upstairs confident in his new role as foreman.

He'd been with Peter since he'd first opened and he impressed Peter with his workmanship, his attitude to the other workers and the paternal care that he took with apprentices. He was the senior in the workshop and his readiness to assist the other workers made him a popular leader. His ability to cuss in fluent Italian was a source of merriment and teasing.

Joe believed his grey hair gave him the right to treat Peter as a son even though he was so much shorter and stockier than Peter. "I'll be right down here. I won't rape any female customers or burn the workshop down." He rumbled with laughter. "There'll be no strike. There's a sense of excitement in the workshop. Everyone can sense a change. Get up there," he propelled Peter towards the stairs, "and see what Ted wants."

"So, Joe is your new foreman. I'm not surprised. You've made a good choice. He's a thinker as well as a doer." Ted leaned back in his chair, "Coffee's coming, courtesy of Joe. He's really taken off. The best thing you've done."

Peter was surprised things had changed so quickly. The coffee tasted different. Everything was different. The sun was even shining.

"Now, about Jennifer..." Carefully Ted scanned Peter's face over the top of his glasses and held up his hand to stop Peter's interruption.

"I'm talking to you as one of your best friends and we, Bob and I, decided I'd be the one to give you this lecture. Oh," Ted read Peter's reaction correctly, "you're surprised we've been talking about you. Well, you've had us both worried stiff. You're like a steam engine on the boil every time Jennifer doesn't do what you want or expect. You blow off steam then, if that's not enough, like a faulty boiler you explode."

Leaning closer Ted smiled kindly, "This is the first girl you've ever been interested in and you've fallen - fallen hard without any experience on which to draw."

He grinned, "Now for some advice."

Pausing he became serious, "Listen carefully and get yourself together. Take it slowly, very slowly. Be like the cat stalking the timid bird. One quick movement and the bird will be off and away and the cat is left hungry." He took another sip from his coffee.

Quickly Peter interrupted. "I want more than a quick fling. Jennifer means so much more..."

"Don't tell me your troubles," laughing, Ted cut Peter off. "I'm not your Father Confessor you know. Just take it slowly and no more explosions. That green-eyed jealousy of yours will cause a lot of trouble if you don't stop and think."

Ted was right. If only he could control his jealousy but Jennifer...

His tone suddenly changed, "Now, about your books. They're bloody disgraceful." Angrily he thrust page after page under Peter's nose, "How the hell am I supposed to decipher your writing amidst all those greasy thumbprints? I don't need glasses I need binoculars and a quick course in detective work."

Glaring fixedly at Peter Ted announced, "You will have to get a secretary book-keeper." Finished, he sat back and waited.

Peter looked shell-shocked. Ted had already boosted the wages' ledger but he wanted more. The news about Mavis and the debt was good but the way Ted was spending money Peter, still in his act of being a penniless workshop owner, believed he would be bankrupt in a week.

His alter ego had taken over his mind as he continued to conceal his true worth from Ted.

The jangle of the phone interrupted them.

"Bob's here and wants to see you both. He's on his way up."

Peter was horrified knowing Bob would ask for the use of this accommodation when nothing else was available.

"Good Lord. So, you've gone up in the world. What a pad you have here." All bounce and good humor Bob breezed in. "This is where you entertain Mrs. Williams and your other attractive customers."

His eyes gleamed and he licked his lips, "What a sly one you are and to think you didn't tell me."

Slapping Peter on the back, he continued. "You really are secretive, you old fox. A pity that you have to come through the workshop - you slipped up there. The entrance should be from the street."