"What I am looking for is some long overdue fun," thought Danielle Thorbin, as she slipped a bath robe over her one-piece swimsuit, closed her laptop, did her belt up and wondered about standing up to answer the insistent ringing at her front door. "And whoever is ringing my doorbell like that is really going to suffer for their impertinence."
"I wonder if I dawdle long enough, will they just go away?" she said to herself and stretched her arms up behind her head, before looking across the 12 metre pool towards the Greek urn on the far side. It had been hollowed out to spew cool water, refreshing the pool and giving the sense of a real living environment.
She had been absolutely delighted to have found this place with its secret garden, sunken out of sight of other properties and hidden from any overlooking view by tall, well tended bushes, shrubs and trees. The two lawns on either side of the pool were comparatively small, not much larger than the pool itself and so easily maintained.
She had a man – a Mr. Janks - come in periodically to tidy the place and clean out the pool. The occasional earthy grunts he emitted as he worked down her list of gardening requirements punctuated her thoughts occasionally as she wrote up the next stage of her treatise.
A small part of her – a very small part - wondered what Janks would be like were she to invite him to take liberties. She shook her head at the idea of his hairy masculinity bellowing his orgasms in her bedchamber. Sometimes, she had thought of him taking her in the garden, but that idea was of very short duration indeed.
To be honest she generally contented herself with smiling brightly at him, when he presented his awful poetry for her scrutiny.
"Another one," she would sigh and try not to contain her sniggers at the awful rhyming couplets that didn't quite scan and which pitted one self-indulgent metaphor against another over-used cliché. "Oh, Mr Janks, what am I to do with your efforts?"
"I couldn't rightly say miss," he would respond awkwardly head, bowed, hoping that this one would be the break through. Inevitably disappointment followed, as he watched her take out a large red felt tip, scrawl a brief comment or two; and shake her tightly curled black locks in denial of his artistic ambitions.
He liked to watch her brushing it back after she'd swum or the contrast when she had used a straightener on it and the oils that left it lush and fragrant redolent of the exoticism of her African forebears. One day he thought...one day, Miss Thorbin, my time will come.
The bell rang again bringing Danielle back to the moment. She was it seemed to be disillusioned in the hope that whoever it was would take themselves off. Grumpily, she made her way past the palms in the garden entrance and strode up the entrance steps determinedly to shoo off her unwelcome visitor.
Just as she reached for the latch the bell rang again impatiently.
"Oh go and..." the forty year old academic huffed as she opened the door and then, suddenly freeze-framed her face into the most beatific of smiles.
"Your flowers, Miss Thorbin," the young brunette with the armful of flower pots smiled back. "If you're looking for colour from mid-summer until the first frosts of autumn, dahlias are hard to beat."
"Well, well, well, this is a turn up for the books."
"Your man was most insistent on them being delivered today, miss."
"Janks was only following orders."
"Ah, I remember doing that once."
"So do I, Laura. So do I."
"But you have Mr. Janks as your acolyte now? Now that is the turn up for the books."
"Don't tease, Laura. You must know he is just my gardener."
"And I am just your florist, Miss Thorbin", Laura agreed; "though your tastes in flora as well as servant seems to have changed quite dramatically."
"Dahlias are more fashionable now."
"People still prefer bouquets or single roses."
"I want them to last: no here today gone tomorrow ephemeral blooms for me, Laura."
"You will break a poor flower girl's heart with words like that."
"I didn't know you'd changed florists, pet."
"Well, I've not been in touch much I suppose."
"It's lucky I made Janks order through your new boutique then."
"It's hardly mine. I just work there."
"Then I'm doubly lucky. Come in; come in. I really can't believe it's you, Laura."
"Did you undress in the hope that it would be me?" Laura giggled. "Where should I put these?"
"I'm just working hard. Let me take them from you. They can go by the planters at the foot of the steps for now."
Danielle relieved Laura of a couple of pots from the colourful burden, carrying them down and depositing them carefully. As she turned away, she heard Laura's teasing voice call out behind her:
"Too many late nights, miss?"
"It's the same as ever, Laura," she smiled to hear Laura use the old title as she turned round and beckoned Laura down too. She was half-pleased, half anxious to see that Laura remained standing in the entrance. Was the girl remembering her training or was she just in a hurry to leave?
"The same, miss?"
"I work hard and I play hard. Will you bring those pots down here now?"
"Yes miss; but it's been ages since we played, miss, hasn't it?"
"Yes, it has been quite a while."
"Still writing all night, then?"
"I'm pretty busy on the final part of my next treatise, actually. I can't really complain about much. My book should be out in December, and I've got a promotional tour lined up. What have you been doing besides changing jobs? Do you have time to join me in a coffee?
"I believe I have plenty of time, miss."
"Then come through. I want you to admire my new garden layout. Here sit down on the chaise-longue with me just like you used to."
"I think I used to kneel. You did all the sitting, miss, to my recollections."
"Was that so wrong of me?"
"It seemed right at the time."
"And now?"
"Would you like me to kneel, miss?"
"For old times sake?"
"No, miss."
"No?"
"No. I will kneel because I know it will please you."
"You are still a good girl," Danielle sighed, feeling the tension of unwritten paragraphs lifting from her shoulders as she watched the young woman fold her knees under her and lower herself gracefully to the stone surround to the pool. "Would you like a cushion?"
"No. I like the feel of the stone: warm and firm – resistant to change."
"Is that how you see me?"
"It is easy for me to find my place, when the place has been left open for me."
"It was always open for you, Laura," Danielle said and pressed her hand to her breast. "I may not have changed, but have you?"
"Same old, same old: the exciting life of shoe sales during the week, flowers at weekends and the occasional oral sex session to supplement the awful wages keeps me busy as ever."
"I see you are still as frank as ever, pet."
"I'm not ashamed of what I do or who I am."
"Nor should you be."
"Thank you, Miss Thorbin."
"Hey. Don't get formal with me."
"Sorry."
"I thought we were friends?"
"We were, but I've neglected you."
"We've neglected one another. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm glad you've found the time to manipulate your employer's deliveries to deliver my dahlias."
"You ordered, Danielle. I came."
"If I start ordering you again, will you come again?"
"You know that I respond well to orders, miss."
"Ah...ah...ah."
"You know I like it when you order me around, Danielle."
"That's better Laura."
