"Hey Boss!" Turning the buffing machine off, Joe pulled at Peter's arm. "There's an angry customer in the office." His grin broadened into a laugh as Peter stared at the lipstick on his cheek.
After washing his hands free of grime and grease so that Ted would have nothing to complain about, Peter slowly made his way to the office. Angry customers meant bookwork.
"Jennifer!"
Racing around the counter, Jennifer hurled herself into Peter's arms and kissed him.
Surprised by her actions, Peter stood still until she drew back.
"What's the matter?" Jennifer looked worried.
"You'll get grease on your dress." Peter searched for an excuse.
"Forget my dress, kiss me!"
Peter, surprised by the vehemence in her voice, needed no second invitation.
A soft cough, repeated, drew them apart. Joe's smiling face poked around the corner. "I've locked up, Peter. I didn't know if you'd remember."
"Come in and say hello to Jennifer." Peter's mind was not working well as he recovered from the kiss.
"I already have." Joe touched his lipstick-smeared cheek. "But I didn't get the thanks you were just given. Now that's what I call a well-satisfied customer." He laughed, enjoying their confusion as they held hands.
"How did the car perform?" Joe was the perfect Italian gentleman. He wasn't going to offend Jennifer by mentioning their weekend.
"My car is beautiful and I can't thank you enough."
"You don't need to. Anything wrong, just return it here and we'll fix it."
He stretched his arm across Peter's shoulder and took Jennifer's free hand before he turned to leave. "Anything wrong with this fellow and we'll fix him too. Just let me know if he doesn't look after you."
He lifted her hand and kissed it. "See you." He was gone.
"Joe is cute. Such a good-looking European gentleman -- and that touch of grey in his hair is so exciting. I could fall for him."
Peter kissed her so further talk was cut off. Breathless, she pulled free.
"You'll do nothing of the kind," Peter growled, but she only smiled.
"You haven't rung me all day and I was worried." Jennifer clung to Peter's shoulders. "Tell me you missed me."
Encouraged, Peter responded so forcefully she began to tremble.
"Steady on. I only asked you to show me if you had missed me, not to corrupt me. Come and get changed - perhaps a cold shower?"
She giggled as she danced her way up the stairs, dragging Peter behind her.
"Get changed while I wait here in the kitchen."
Mystified, Peter followed her directions and headed for the bathroom.
"Hey Jennifer, come and give me a hand." He called through the sound of running water. Pausing he waited until he heard her footsteps in the bedroom. "There's an interesting part here I can't reach."
Surprised by the lack of response, he listened intently until he felt the icy water thrown over the top of the shower screen splash down onto his shoulders.
The tinkle of gentle laughter answered his bellow. "Anything else you need?"
The moment he reappeared in the kitchen, fully dressed, Jennifer started her orders.
"Wait here. Don't move. Now it's my turn." Taking a small bag she had smuggled into the flat, she disappeared into the bathroom.
"I don't need help."
"Pity. Are you sure?" Peter shouted through the firmly closed bathroom door.
He studied her clothes and the delicate, lacy underwear lying on the bed and wished he could help dress her. Peter didn't know what Jennifer intended but she had certainly come prepared.
Dressed in a casual shirt and slacks and wearing his dress shoes, Peter made his way to the kitchen. From there he yelled, "Would you like your back scrubbed? My company motto is Satisfaction Guaranteed or Your Money Back."
"I can well imagine that would be your motto, but no thanks." Jennifer stood at the bedroom doorway, a towel draped carelessly around her.
Leaping to his feet and scattering chairs, Peter dived for her, but she just laughed, slamming the bedroom door in his face.
"You stay there and clean up the mess. A girl must get dressed in peace."
Dressed in a tan skirt that fitted her like a glove and a blouse that appeared to be a deep green silk, Jennifer paused in the doorway for Peter's admiration. She looked stunning.
Her hair was loose and flowing, just the way he liked it. Jennifer never wore much makeup other than lipstick since her clear skin and flawless complexion made it almost unnecessary. Before Peter could comment, she dragged him downstairs into the street.
"It's my turn to be bossy now. Tonight I'm saying thanks for your help choosing my wonderful car and for a glorious weekend. So tonight you're my date."
Squeezing his arm, she opened the passenger's door for him and waited while he belted up. She was completely at ease and in total command as she drove off without telling Peter anything about what she planned.
They ate, danced and strolled hand-in-hand, rediscovering the pleasure of each other's company as though they hadn't seen each other for months, although it had only been the previous weekend when they had been away together.
Back at the workshop, they sat staring at each other, both unwilling to say "Goodnight", until Peter leant across to kiss her hair.
"I'm sorry if I misled you," Peter commented laughingly, "but I'm not going to invite you in for coffee." He looked at his feet in mock maidenly modesty. "I don't do that sort of thing."
Punching his shoulder, Jennifer roared with laughter. "Peter, you're a fool." She was still laughing as she drove off.
Life was different. Confidently secure in his love and proud that Jennifer was still unsullied - as she wished - Peter found work a delight.
Days passed into weeks as they played tennis together, went to the ballet, attended concerts, enjoyed operas and developed their relationship around friendship and trust, but still Peter was careful.
He didn't ask Jennifer to his apartment nor did Jennifer ask him to hers except for occasional meals and games of chess. It was as if they both realized what fire smoldered in their hearts. Neither wished to run the risk of losing what they had.
Slowly, Peter learned to control his jealousy so that when Jennifer gained the romantic lead in a play he was content to be a stagehand. He wasn't the least offended when she had to kiss on stage, although he felt it most strange to watch her with someone else. That was one battle he'd won.
Well, his mind told him he had won!
Yet one Friday, his jealousy was to be almost the end of their relationship.
"Miss Blake, please. Mr. O'Brien speaking."
"Miss Blake is out." Jennifer's Personal Assistant sounded peculiar. She knew something. "But if you hold the line," suddenly her voice became officious, "I'll put you through."
"Peter," Jennifer sounded breathless but excited. "I can't stop. I've got to fly." She was too excited to be bothered with Peter. "Someone very, very special to me is arriving from Melbourne this morning."
She couldn't know how each word plunged a dagger into Peter's heart and that with each thrust he could feel himself floating into oblivion. His body was suddenly a shell around an aching void.
"I'm off to the airport to pick him up. We'll meet tonight at the bar."
A click and the call ended. She didn't even wait to hear that he was off to Bathurst yet again to deliver the latest green and red behemoth. She wasn't even interested.
Peter's insecurities surfaced, as bitter thoughts, taking over his consciousness. His mind raced. She had said pick HIM up. He was someone very special. Bitch!
Christ, had he been led a merry dance? She was keeping herself for her marriage! He'd been a moron. All the time her love was in Melbourne. No wonder she'd been the Ice Maiden of Sydney.
Just give him ten minutes alone with Jennifer. Just let him get his hands on her. How she must have laughed, knowing how she had hoodwinked him. To think of all the pleasure that had been at hand -- and he had thought he had been loving and caring. God, the laugh was on definitely on him. Peter was burning with jealousy and hatred.
He was bitter -- very bitter and furious.
"Bad news?" Joe could read Peter's face.
"Bugger off! Get lost!" Peter didn't mean to shout. "I'm going. You keep the shop going and earn your wages for a change."
Joe's hurt look brought some sense back to him.
"Oh, forget it, Joe. It's not your fault. It's mine." Peter didn't stop to bandy words but stormed out.
"What'll you have, Peter?" The barmaid leant across the bar, her blouse bulging.
"This is twice in how many years? You're fast becoming a drunkard. Where's your handsome friend?" Turning away, she began exchanging banter with the next customer.