Jan, an attractive woman in her late forties who obviously took pride in her appearance, smiled back. A green tailored skirt suit, soft green silk blouse and a gorgeous pair of patent leather dress pumps flattered her svelte figure.
“Thank you so much, Helen, for that lovely welcome, and good evening ladies! It is wonderful to see so many of you here tonight.” Picking up one of the items on the table, she gestured towards the audience. “Tupperware is so well known in households around Australia that I would like to bet that each of you here tonight has used at least one of our products at some stage in your life. It may have been a mixing bowl, or one of our classic storage containers. While these are the standard products that everyone is familiar with, tonight I am going to introduce you to our new range of products: sleek, modernised and incredibly functional.”
Daphne turned to Allie, rolling her eyes as she whispered, “It is Tupperware she’s selling, isn’t it?”
“I’m waiting for the free set of steak knives,” Meg murmured drily.
Jan continued extolling the virtues of her products, and soon her promotion of the beauty and practicality of plastic kitchenware became tedious. Women began to shuffle in their chairs, while a series of coughs, like a rolling wave, ran through the room.
“If this continues,” Meg said sotto voce, “I am going to need a great deal more wine.”
“I wonder if I could have a member of the audience to assist me with the rest of this presentation?” Jan asked.
Before she had finished speaking, Leslie sprang from her seat, almost pushing Helen down in her rush to get to the stage.
Meg and Allie exchanged looks.
“Uh-oh, what’s she up to?” Allie asked quietly.
“No idea,” Meg replied, “but it’ll probably be worth watching.”
Glad to have the audience’s attention once more and with a beaming Leslie at her side, Jan continued, “Now ladies, I know that there are many of you out there who enjoy cooking, and with this range of Tupperware products, you can enjoy the benefits of your creations even more. How many of you have experienced the disappointment of putting in all that culinary effort, only to open your storage container a couple of days later and discover that all you have left is a handful of stale tarts?”
Meg, who was in the process of taking a mouthful of wine, swallowed the wrong way and started coughing so badly that Allie had to thump her on the back. A collective chuckle rose from the other women in the room.
“Oh,” said Leslie in a sultry tone, “nothing worse than a stale tart. I always insist that my tarts are fresh and moist.”
Seemingly unaware of the reaction from the audience, Jan beamed at her assistant. “You are so right, and with the Tupperware range, we have several different sizes of containers. Just pop your tarts into one of these tightly sealed containers and you need never eat another soft, dry tart again.”
Unable to speak herself, Allie was aware of Daphne shaking with laughter next to her as she stammered, “Soft, dry tarts. Did she really say that?”
Meg shook her head, the laughter still bubbling out of her. “By the look of her, I suspect Leslie is enjoying this way too much.”
While mostly maintaining a perfectly serious expression, Leslie continued to assist Jan, her subtly nuanced comments keeping the audience thoroughly entertained.
Her enthusiasm growing at the audience’s apparent enjoyment of the presentation, Jan picked up a small plastic device with four small clips attached.
“Now, Leslie, I bet you can’t imagine what this is for?” she asked.
Leslie examined it carefully, keeping her expression blank.
“Well, I’m not sure,” she offered as she showed it to the audience, “but these little clips on the end are certainly intriguing.”
As Jan took the gadget back, Allie’s imagination was busy inventing all sorts of unorthodoxed uses for the implement.
Jan leant in to her audience conspiratorially. “Now, I don’t know about you ladies, but I have always hated putting my hands inside poultry cavities. Too many times, those spaces are just way too small for even our delicate hands to fit. This clever little tool,” she said, straightening up and displaying it, “expands the entrance of any cavity to maximum stretch. You simply place the clips around the edge of the bird’s cavity, stretch the opening and these plastic sides lock in to hold the cavity open. Then, you take this tubing,” she added, holding it up to the now engrossed audience, “and fill it with your stuffing, tamping it down as you go. In no time at all, you have a cavity filled to capacity, all the while keeping your hands clean and dry.”
The women sat spellbound, every one watching with rapt attention.
Jan continued blithely, “Of course, on occasion, you may need to oil the cavity to ensure that the inside is nice and moist.” Turning to her display case, she pulled out a large rubber roast chicken and a small bottle of oil.
“Oh good grief, she even comes with her own props,” Meg whispered to Allie.
“So here we have our small, dry cavity,” Jan said, indicating the back end of the chicken. “All we need to do is pop these clips around the opening of the cavity and stretch it as far as possible. The clips, of course, are made of plastic, so as not to tear the flesh.”
Several women in the audience squirmed in their chairs as she placed the device on the chicken. When the sides were locked into place, she displayed that the cavity was at full stretch.
Allie watched in fascination, her wine forgotten.
“Then when it is stretched as far as possible, I will oil the outside of the tubing,” Jan went on, proceeding to brush the tubing until it glistened. She beamed as she showed them her handiwork. “Once that is done, I slip the tubing in like this and rub it gently around the cavity to ensure it is also lightly lubricated. Now I can proceed to fill it with stuffing.” Jan demonstrated with dry pasta, tamping it into the interior of the chicken.
Meg put her hand on Allie’s arm and leant in to whisper, “If she keeps going on like this, I swear some of these old girls are going to have a coronary. This is probably the most action some of them have seen in fifteen years!”
Smothering a laugh, Allie quickly glanced around the room. “I must say, there do appear to be some that are paying very close attention.”
“When all the stuffing is in place,” Jan was saying, “you undo the clips, give a gentle tug and the cavity expander slips right out, leaving your chicken stuffed and your hands clean.”
Leslie cleared her throat, motioning towards the now distended chicken. “That must be a very popular item in your range,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.
“I have to say,” Jan replied, “we have been surprised at the number of women who have ordered this. It has been on our top ten list since it was introduced several months ago. Although the stretching device is small, it is surprisingly strong and comes in three different sizes, from small to large.”
“I am sure that many women could find…all sorts of uses for it,” Leslie agreed, looking out to the audience.
“Well, we at Tupperware pride ourselves on our versatility and would love to hear from women who find other uses for our products.”
Allie blinked rapidly and sat back in her chair. “Good Lord, I swear I’ll never be able to look at a chicken the same way again.”
By now the noise level had escalated, as the ribald comments amongst the audience increased.
Looking around the room, Allie turned to Meg. “I don’t think the lovely Jan has any idea of the reactions she’s causing.”
Meg grinned, nodding towards the stage. “No, but Leslie does. This is obviously why she wanted us all to come tonight.”
Delighted by the women’s enthusiasm, Jan selected another product from the display table. “Now, ladies, here’s something that the bakers amongst you won’t want to miss. It’s a new product i
n our range and it allows you to pipe cream or icing in a pretty and decorative manner. Also, the unique style means that it’s drip free.”
Handing the device to her assistant, Jan asked her to display it closer to the audience.
“Oh, what a useful gadget, Jan,” Leslie gushed, showing it to several women in the front row. “So, effectively, I could fill this with honey, or melted chocolate, and pipe it exactly where I needed it?” Turning to the audience, she waggled her eyebrows. “And there would be no danger of it spilling on the sheets…er…I mean, bench top?”
“Yes exactly,” beamed Jan. “And it also comes with its own attachments for those of you who wish to do more detailed artwork.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Leslie, holding up the attachments, “look at these little plugs! I’m sure they could be put to use in all sorts of ways.”
The growing ripples of laughter caused Jan to hesitate; a look of uncertainty crossed her face. She turned to collect another appliance from the table, and when she faced them again, her smile was fixed firmly in place once more.
“Now, for those of you who have problems with your wrists getting sore from too much beating, we have the ‘Quick Flick’. This is guaranteed to give you creamy results in half the time of a normal beater.”
“Oh, ladies,” Leslie said, grabbing the item and holding it close to her chest, “the answer to all our dreams! Imagine how incredibly useful this will be.” Turning to Jan, she shook her head and sighed. “My wrists often get sore from too much beating.” Then with a quick smile, she asked sweetly, “Is it battery operated?”
“No,” Jan hesitated, gazing with bewilderment at her increasingly rowdy audience. “Its secret is all in the new angled design.”
“Oh, yes,” Leslie continued, clasping Jan’s arm, “I am sure we women are all aware that we have to have just the right angle for creamy results. Well, this little treasure’s certainly going on my shopping list.”
The other women in the room had by now given up all pretence of decorum. As the laughter increased, Jan narrowed her eyes at Leslie.
“Uh-oh,” Daphne muttered to Allie, “I think Jan’s just woken up to Leslie’s game!”
Forcibly removing Leslie’s hand from her arm, Jan straightened her jacket.
“Why don’t we look at our range of kitchen implements,” she began, edging Leslie away from the table while picking up one of the spatulas from the display. Raising her voice over the hubbub, she forged on, “Tupperware has just released our new lighter spatula. It’s designed to be more flexible, but has the strength to be even more effective.”
Dodging around Jan, Leslie quickly grabbed one and smacked it lightly against her hand several times.
“Mmm,” she said throatily. “You know, Jan, you’re absolutely right. Tupperware has become so much more functional.”
Just when Allie felt that Jan was about to totally lose her professional demeanour, Helen rose and marched up to the stage. Placing her hand protectively on Jan’s arm, she glared quickly at Leslie before turning to the audience.
“I think we would all like to thank Jan for the wonderful presentation she gave tonight. It was incredibly kind of her to take time out of her busy schedule to show us these excellent products. I am sure we would like to give her a round of applause,” she announced with authority.
The women clapped heartily and Leslie, who was now standing behind both Jan and Helen, gave several bows. At the renewed cheering, Jan beamed.
“Thank you all very much. I am so glad you enjoyed the evening. There are order forms on the table for those who wish to purchase any of tonight’s products, as well as copies of our catalogues,” she announced. “I will also leave my business card for those who wish to call me later for a personal demonstration.”
“Oh, good grief, she is going from bad to worse,” gasped Daphne when the audience erupted again. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.”
The three women sat back in their chairs, watching Helen help Jan pack up the merchandise. When Leslie leant in to help, Helen slapped her hand away and glared at her angrily.
With an exaggerated shrug of puzzlement, Leslie casually sauntered over to her friends. Throwing herself into a vacant chair in front of them, she grinned.
“Now, didn’t I tell you that tonight would be fun?” she asked.
Allie wiped her eyes. “You are positively evil, but I have to admit, that was one of the funniest evenings I’ve spent in a long time.”
“Well, I ended up at the Women’s Institute presentation she gave in Berry. Yeah, I know, don’t ask,” she added in response to Meg’s quizzical look. “Anyway, afterwards I thought it might be fun to have one here and asked Helen if she thought Jan would do it. She positively quivered with excitement at the thought of the two of them spending more time together. Because I’d been to the earlier one, I knew Jan would ask for an assistant, and all I had to do was beat Helen to the stage. Once I got up there it was a piece of cake,” she smirked.
“Doesn’t she know we’re a bunch of lesbians?” Daphne asked in amazement.
Leslie shook her head and accepted the glass of wine Meg handed her. “No, I don’t think she has any idea, which is what made it all so funny. She knew something was going on, but I still don’t think she’s figured it out. I can’t believe Helen didn’t say something to her.”
Women began coming up to congratulate Leslie on her performance. The general consensus was that it had been a night to remember. Before long, Helen came barrelling towards them like a galleon under full sail, her face red with outrage. The howls of laughter that greeted her approach only escalated her fury.
“Uh-oh, here’s trouble. Now you’re in for a good tongue lashing,” warned Daphne as she collapsed back into her chair.
“That was unforgivable behaviour tonight,” Helen gasped, almost spitting the words out as she waved her finger under Leslie’s nose. “Poor Jan gave up her time to come here to give us this presentation and all you could do was make fun of her. Do you know she is one of the top five presenters in the state for Tupperware? We were so lucky to have her here. Honestly, it was the sort of childish behaviour I would have expected from you.” Swinging around to confront the other three women, Helen continued, “I expect you three are co-conspirators?”
“Oh put a sock in it, Helen,” Meg snapped. “If she was half the saleswoman you say she is, she would have done her research and known that tonight was going to be a lesbian audience. Unless you are totally stupid, you don’t start talking about tarts, beaters and cavity expanders in a room full of lesbians and not expect a reaction. Besides, Leslie made it entertaining, Jan will get plenty of sales for the beater thingy and you got her business card so you can call her later for a ‘personal demonstration’. All in all,” Meg said, raising her glass, “I’d say it was an exceptionally successful evening.”
Outraged, Helen spun on her heel and marched off.
Taking a swallow of wine, Leslie chuckled. “Poor Jan. I wonder if she’ll ever discover what went wrong.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” said Meg. “She’ll probably put it all down to senility or dementia.”
“Hers or ours?” asked Daphne, laughing.
An hour later, Allie stretched and stood, swaying a little on her feet. “Well, I haven’t had that much fun in ages, but I think it’s about time for me to go to bed.”
“I think someone may have had a little too much to drink,” surmised Meg, grabbing her arm.
“Nonsense. I’m perfectly fine,” Allie replied thickly. “Besides, how can we get drunk on half a bottle of wine?”
Daphne laughed. “Allie, I count two empty bottles under Meg’s chair—and don’t look at me, because I’ve only been drinking whiskey.”
“Good grief, Meg, did you get me drunk?” Allie asked crossly.
Meg stood and put an arm around her. “Hush now. I’ll walk y
ou home, you poor old lush.”
“That’s good, because I might need a little bit of help.”
After saying their goodnights, Meg walked Allie to her door and let them both into the cottage.
“Are you OK to get ready for bed?” Meg asked.
Leaning against the bathroom door, Allie nodded. “Can you stay a while?” she asked.
“Of course I can, darling. Go and get changed.”
Several minutes later, Allie emerged from the bathroom smelling of soap and toothpaste. As she settled in bed, Meg handed her a large glass of water.
“Oh wonderful, just what I need,” Allie said.
Meg sat on the bed, watching her closely. “How do you feel, sweetie?”
Allie giggled. “Fine, except I can’t stop thinking about that poor, damned chicken.”
They both dissolved into laughter.
“And don’t forget that beater thingy,” Meg hooted.
“For extra creamy results,” Allie spluttered, hiccuping.
Placing the now empty glass on the bedside table, Meg shook her head. “I think people are going to be talking about tonight for quite a while. Best entertainment I’ve had in months.”
Allie took Meg’s hand. “We do have some laughs, you and I, don’t we?”
Linking her fingers through Allie’s, Meg nodded. “The best times of my life have been with you,” she said quietly.
Allie yawned and snuggled down into the duvet. “I do love you, Meg,” she said sleepily.
Meg bent down to kiss her cheek. “I love you too, darling,” she replied softly. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The next morning, Allie groaned when she heard Meg let herself into the cottage.
“How are you feeling?” Meg called down the hall.
“How am I feeling?” she responded as her friend entered the bedroom. “Well, if the jackhammer in my head and the merry-go-round in my stomach would both stop, I might feel vaguely human. Exactly how much wine did I drink last night?”
Times of Our Lives Page 3