Come This Way
by Graham Murray
Smashwords Edition
Copyright© 2011, Graham Murray. Cover design by author.
email:
Living
Books USA
NOTE:
This work contains explicit scenes of human sexual acts and is not
suitable for persons under the age of eighteen (18) or those of a
sensitive disposition. By reading this eBook you assert that you are
in compliance with your local or state laws.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons whether living or deceased, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Come This Way
Aunt Olga tossed the letter across the room. It did a neat little somersault before fluttering to the floor at Heidi’s perfect feet.
“Fucking council!” said Olga, stubbing out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray as if it had personally offended her. “They tryin’ kick us out again, the bastards!”
Heidi was leaning against the countertop and almost had her arms folded across her chest, except they didn’t quite reach. She picked up her coffee, sipped it and then sighed.
“Okay, why?” she said. “What’ve you done now?”
Olga’s glare could have downed the Red Baron. She narrowed her eyes.
“See! See what I mean? Why do you always assume it’s something I’ve done, huh? Why?”
Heidi sniffed and examined her fingernails. “Well, ’cos it usually is, Aunty. I mean, the police were here last night again. That’s the third time this week.”
Olga snorted and wrapped her housecoat tighter around her. It was a floral pattern; with touches of pizza, chili and a variety other culinary decorations that adorned it like sigils.
“Ptuh! That was just a little . . . misunderstandin’ is all,” said Olga, reaching for another cigarette.
“I dunno,” said Heidi dubiously. She took another sip of coffee. “I mean, they hauled four guys out of here at three in the morning and only one of them had any clothes on. And that was just one sock. And how did the bald one manage to get his wedding ring stuck on his–”
“We were just playing around, is all,” protested Aunt Olga, standing up and walking over to the fridge. “I’m entitled to a little fun, ain’t I?” She glanced at Heidi. “’Specially at my time of life.”
Heidi sighed. “Aunty, you’re only forty-six years old,” she said wearily. “What do you mean, ‘Your time of life’?”
Aunt Olga sucked on her cigarette, shortening by a whole inch in one go. She waved a hand at Heidi, causing the ash to drop onto the table, where she flicked it away with her hand.
“You just wait, my girl. You just wait,” she said, shaking her head. She took another hefty drag of the cigarette. “You wait until you’re my age and see if the men come knocking on your door.”
She leaned over the table and blew away the rest of the cigarette ash.
“Nuh-uh . . . once you hit thirty-five, that’s it. Show’s over. No one’s interested any more. They all want the young ones with the great bodies and the fake tits and no brains. Kind of like–”
Heidi tilted her head to one side.
“Kinda like me, you mean?” she said, making no attempt and keeping the scorn from her voice.
Olga leaned back in her chair. “No, now I didn’t say that–”
“Whatever, Aunty,” said Heidi, balancing her cup on the pile of dishes already in the sink. “The point is, unless you can convince the council otherwise, they can kick you–us out of here. And then where will we go, huh? It’s not as if we have anyone we can call on. We’re all alone and in this together.”
“Well . . .” said Olga resignedly, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ears.
Heidi looked at the letter on the floor. “What did the letter say?”
Olga glanced at it briefly and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked tired. Not sleep tired, but general tiredness. Life tiredness.
“They’re sending a man around this afternoon to come and see us.”
“This afternoon!” exclaimed Heidi. “Why so soon? They could have given us a bit of notice. I mean . . . just look at this place. It looks like the Blitz was staged here.”
Olga turned to face her. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? They’re sneaky bastards. They try to catch you with your pants down!”
“Well, if they’d come a bit earlier, they might have–”
“It’s just an expression,” said Olga, going for cigarette number three. “Anyway, you better skedaddle so’s I can clean this shithole up a bit an’ try an’ make a bit of an impression.”
Heidi looked around the apartment and decided that an army of professional cleaners would have their work cut out for a few days merely to make a dent in the cleanliness department. The place really did look as if a bomb had gone off. More than once.
“I didn’t have anything planned, Aunty,” said Heidi. “I’ll stay here and help you. We’ll soon have the place looking . . . It’ll look a bit better, anyway.”
When Olga smiled at her, Heidi caught a brief glimpse of the woman she knew and loved.
“Besides,” added Heidi, grinning evilly, “I may be able to help.”
Olga started at her. “Oh, I’m sure you can, my girl. I’m sure you can. Women united, right?”
“Right,” said Heidi, clapping her hands together and causing her chest to lumber from side to side. She glanced around the room again.
“Well, I suppose we better make a start. What time is he s’posed to be here?”
“The letter said three o’ clock, but you know what they’re like. Always late.”
Heidi removed the elastic band from her titian-red tresses and shook them free. A red cascade fell around her shoulders and halfway down her back. She looked at Aunt Olga.
“How about you make a start on Mount Plates over there and I’ll . . . Well, I’ll make sure I’m ready for our guest.”
She turned on her heels and headed towards her bedroom. Olga watched her go, shook her head, and prepared to scale Mount Plates, once she had clambered past the Cups foothills.
Despite her misgivings, both Heidi and Aunt Olga were surprised when Mr. Johnson finally did arrive, at four ‘o clock. By then, Olga was a bundle of nerves and Heidi had all but given up and was somewhat annoyed, having carefully considered exactly how the afternoon would proceed.
Mr. Johnson was not, as the two had expected, a middle-aged, ‘only on Wednesdays’ kind of man. He was quite young, mid-thirties they guessed afterwards, and, as an added bonus, was actually a good-looking man. With not a ring in sight. Not even a poorly-hidden tan mark on his ring finger.
But despite their best efforts and endless eyelash fluttering, the inestimable Mr. Johnson was also a by-the-book sort of man, and soon had Aunt Olga close to tears as he explained that there was little he could do about her case and that she would have to file an appeal against a possible eviction order for ‘action unbecoming a council tenant’, whatever that was supposed to mean.
“What the fuck does ‘unbecoming’ mean,” asked Aunt Olga when they left to the bathroom together to ‘powder their noses’.
Heidi shrugged. “I think it means panties around your knees and ass in the air. Who knows. Could be anything.”
When they returned to the kitchen, Mr. Johnson was still sitting at the table, scribbling in a notepad and sipping his iced tea. Olga had excused herself to go and take her medicine.
“I wonder, Mr. Johnson,” said Heidi. “Do you think I could have a word with you?”
Mr. Johnson looked at Heidi, using all his will-power not to let his eyes drift down to the bulge that was Heidi’s famous chest. She had tweaked them before she’d entered the room and she could feel them standing proud, almost pointing at their unsuspecting victim.
“Sure he said. What it is?”
Heidi lowered her voice and leaned over the table, giving Mr. John a full dose of Heidi Cleavage, not a view lightly dismissed by even the strongest male constitution. Her hulking breasts pushed against each other and actually rested on the table, their fine blonde hairs shining in the glow from the single overhead light.
“Actually, I meant in private, if you see what I mean,” added Heidi, tilting her head to indicate that they should leave the room.
Mr. Johnson seemed a bit flummoxed by this.
“Er, I suppose that would be alright,” he said.
“Great!” said Heidi, standing up and leaning against the table, which reached exactly to the top of her legs and served to make her feminine protuberance even more prominent. “We can go in here. Come this way.”
She turned around and waited for Mr. Johnson to gather his pen and notepad before leading him towards her bedroom, there not being another free room in the apartment.
“We can go in here,” she said, holding open the door for him.
The poor man did not know how to react. This was clearly a woman’s bedroom, and he was unsure if by entering it, he was breaking some hitherto unknown rule of conduct. He doubted it. After all, the young woman only wanted a little private chat.
“This is nice,” said Mr. Johnson, looking around Heidi’s room, which had been decorated with anything pink by a maniac with a penchant for frills and lace. A very large bra hung from the back of the doorknob and he couldn’t help noticing the black thong that lay on her dressing table. A few skimpy negligee’s were draped across a chair. Heidi looked at Mr. Johnson.
“It’s about my Aunt Olga, Mr. Johnson,” she began.
“Please, it’s Brian,” said Mr. Johnson, smiling and holding up a hand. “Let’s not be too informal. After all, this visit is intended for me to get a feel for your situation.
“Oh. Alright . . . Brian,” said Heidi, almost blinding the poor man with one of her selected smiles. She stepped forward until she was mere inches from him and could feel the heat from his body. She was surprised to discover that he was her height.
“Is there anything I can do to help with her . . . unfortunate situation?” said Heidi.
Brian swallowed. “I . . . er . . .”
“You see, Aunt Olga is getting on a bit,” said Heidi in a voice designed to sink ships, “and with no family to speak of . . .”
She held her hand palm outwards and allowed it to slide up Brian’s leg. It had not gone more than a few inches before it hit the motherlode and she smiled. Mr. Johnson, despite outwards appearances, was in fact quite an excited man. Very excited as far as she could tell. She cupped her hand and gripped him through his trousers. Even through the fabric, she could feel his pulse, and gently squeezed him. Mr. Johnson may have been a small man, but he was definitely a Big Boy.