If you are under 18 years of age, kindly leave and do not read any further. All individuals in my tales, both real and fictitious, are themselves, over the age of 18 years old.
* * *
Our story begins, not in some beautiful west coast botanical garden, as the title might suggest, but in the coffee lounge of the hotel where the beautiful Violet is employed as a member of the housekeeping staff. Those of you who follow St. John Smythe and have read "The Deflowering Of Violet" series will know exactly who I am speaking with regards to.
It's a gorgeous morning and the sky is a brilliant deep cerulean blue. There are two sparrows singing their sweet songs of territorial warfare as we sip strong cappuccinos and enjoy the warmth of the sun. Violet is on her coffee break.
"I have a request from someone who would like to meet you," she says to me.
I look at her and wait for her to continue, half dreading where her simple comment may lead. It had been a couple of years since her and I took our acquaintance status to another level and I provided guidance for her becoming a more open-minded liberal. You would be correct in assuming that we are now, what folks refer to as... friends with benefits.
"A certain lady would like to make your acquaintance and I think you should listen to what she has to say," she continued.
"Business or pleasure?" I countered with.
"I'm not saying. Just take my word for it, St. John, you'll like what she has to say."
I sat looking at her, not sure what to make of what she just told me. She wouldn't make eye contact with me.
"Violet, why the mystery? Again I countered.
"St. John... you need to be less controlling and open to new experiences a bit more!"
Was she kidding? Me? More open minded? Ha! Now she really had my curiosity aroused. 'Defensive and reluctant to expound... a bad combination,' I thought to myself.
"What's this mystery lady's name?"
She sat looking at me before she answered.
"Dahlia."
"Like the flower?" I asked.
She just smiled. "Like the flower."
* * *
It was a few days later that I sat waiting to be picked up in the front of the hotel. I was enjoying another fine morning. I looked at my watch and as I did, the car I was told to watch for pulled up to the curb under the portico and tooted its horn. Behind the wheel was a well dressed Asian woman. Hard to say her age, but my best guess was early forties. A good looking woman, though. Long, jet black hair and a thin red and white scarf tied over her head supposedly to protect her mane from the wind. The
convertible she drove was a classic. Big, dark sunglasses with rhinestones all around the frame and arms, hid her eyes, but there was no mistaking her visible features. She was very attractive too.
I stood and approached the passenger side door.
"Dahlia?" I inquired.
"St. John, I presume?" she asked with her best attempt at a British accent. My ancestry is
British, but I was born in this country.
She had a big smile and I liked her right from that first moment. I got in the car knowing only that we were going to have lunch together at someplace only she knew. Still, a little too much mystery for me. She was an aggressive driver and she pulled away from the hotel and into traffic with a cloud of dust and a squeal of agitated tires.
She talked as she drove. I listened and tried to size her up. I had nothing to make me think this was just about pleasure, but if her intent was business... I didn't have a clue what this could all be about. I don't do business and Violet knew that.
She drove and she talked. She'd taken us off the main street towards the downtown and we were
driving through a beautiful part of the city that was well known for money, stately homes and big trees. When we could see through the last two, there was a gorgeous view of the ocean. The drive wound its way past the notorious nude beach, the museum of anthropology and another spendy neighbourhood that was long on vogue and short on savings. Paper millionaires who had all of their money "tied up", if you know what I mean.
It was a pleasant enough drive and eventually Dahlia pulled into an empty parking stall at a well known restaurant that overlooked the bay and the ships that sat at anchor. We had finally made our way to my favourite big park in the city... the one that I quite enjoy taking ladies to for a little fucking in the great outdoors! Dense forest, quiet trails and few roads... with lots of privacy.
The maitre d' knew Dahlia and showed us to a nice table in the conservatory with a beautiful view of the ocean. I still was completely in the dark as to why I was even here, despite nearly an hour of
driving, and listening to my lunch date talk on and on. I took the large, leather-bound menu I was handed and read the specials of the day.
Dahlia, herself, was engrossed in the menu. As I picked up my water glass to take a drink, Dahlia dropped the bomb.
* * *
"You know of course, that my daughter is married," she said in a completely matter of fact way, still looking at her lunch choices.
I sputtered, narrowly avoiding choking on the water.
"Who is your daughter?" I spoke in a squeaky voice as I tried to recover from my near
drowning.
'Jesus Christ!' I thought to myself at the same time. Had Violet set me up with some kind of a wacko here? She'd had all kinds of time while we drove here to broach what she obviously had intended for this to be about all along!
"Violet of course," she replied taking a sip of her own water.
I had tried to get that information from Violet a couple of years ago and she just dodged the question and refused to answer me. "Pass and no," was what she said when I asked if she was married or had a boyfriend. I couldn't believe what this woman was saying. Violet and I had shared a bed on and off for 2 years and... she supposedly had a husband? No way!
I had composed myself and now sat looking rather sternly across the table at this woman who had just delivered this news.
"Your Violet's mother?"
"Uh huh," was all she said as she smiled at me.
"And you're saying that Violet is married?"
"Technically... yes."
"Why technically?" I asked with a suspicious tone.
"Well now... that's what this little meeting is all about and why you are here, Mr. Smythe."
She was enjoying having one up on me as she sat there smiling. I was not happy with this news I'd just had dropped in my lap and more so, was not very pleased with the way that Violet had opted to tell me this. Especially after my having asked prior and she, just putting me off!
"There's no reason to look so serious," Dahlia added.
I didn't answer, but continued just looking directly across the table at her. I think I was more confused than anything else. It obviously hadn't made any difference, whatsoever, with Violet, judging by all the things I had introduced her to and the time we had spent together, but it just didn't add up. Why keep being married a secret; it didn't matter to me, obviously? I bed all kinds of married ladies. And why spring her mother on me like this? Although, her mother was very attractive. The most confusing part of all this was, however, the fact that if Violet was married, where was this husband and why did she live with her parents? I don't pretend to really understand all the workings of the Asian cultures, but this just looked like a jumbled mess to me.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Dahlia," I began, "but this comes across as very odd to me."
"Odd?" she said. "In what way?"
Was she kidding?
"Odd. Odd that I meet you in this way. Odd that I have been quite close to Violet for over 2 years and she chooses to share this now--like this. I apologize, but I consider this odd."
"Well, St. John..." She was back to using my first name again. "Don't blame Violet, this was my idea, not hers."
We were interrupted by the waiter and as such, was a good thing. It served to reset the conversation and lower the tone a bit.
"Okay..." I began. "So Violet has a husband. Is there something more I should know here?"
"Yes. There is..."
Dahlia went on to tell me that both her own husband, as well as Violet's had been detained by the
government in there home country and neither had been in contact with them in just over 5 years. She and Violet lived in the large house by themselves and quite contrary to the customs of their culture... sought the company of men who could address their needs. My attitude softened as I listened.
She went on to say that money was not a concern for her, but she wanted Violet to know the value of hard work and being responsible... that was why Violet worked at the hotel.
"Violet will never have to worry about money, as long as she is responsible and makes good decisions. For now, though, she has to earn her way."
The story now made sense. Violet refusing to answer my question regarding being married and why she worked at the hotel, but lived in the very fashionable neighbourhood of Inverness. It all came together.
"You have made Violet a more confident and happier young woman, St. John and I..."
She trailed off and didn't finish her sentence. Before I could say anything, our lunch arrived.
* * *
The conservatory was quiet in spite of it being the lunch hour. The view out the many windows was gorgeous and the clear, blue sky melted into the ocean at the horizon. We were perched on the edge of a precipice with nothing but the restaurant's flower gardens between us and the tranquil Pacific down
below. Neither of us spoke as we enjoyed our lunch.
"You have an interesting hobby, St. John," Dahlia said as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin. Her knife and fork placed specifically at the 6 o'clock position on her plate. 'Nice touch,' I thought to myself.
"What are you referring to?" I countered with. She broke into a wide smile.
"Your hobby of helping young women find their stride... so to speak."
I looked at her, contemplating what I should say in response to that.
As we looked at each other, I felt something brush my pant leg. I didn't betray the fact and neither did she.
"Violet thinks the world of you, you know. And not just because of the sex. She likes you, the man."
"And I think the world of her too, but Violet has many things keeping her busy... in a social sense," I added.
"And you are married too, I understand?"
"I am," I said.
