Still Riding on the Storm

by Robert G. Barrett

‘Oh Les,’ admonished Georgina.

  ‘Oh Les,’ mimicked Norton. ‘Hey, I just got a big earn on the pimp today. Remember?’

  ‘Oh don’t start on that bloody pimping again,’ she said, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Okay,’ nodded Les. ‘So what would you like to do now, Georgina? Go for a drink somewhere or something?’

  Georgina looked evenly at Les. ‘Why don’t we go back to your place?’ she said. ‘I’d like to see where you live.’

  Les could hardly believe what he’d just heard. ‘Okay. I’ll throw a bit of Jimmy Buffett on the stereo.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  They got up to leave. Les gave the red-haired waitress a smile and a wave. The girl, after getting a fifty-dollar tip, not only smiled and waved back, she hurried over and opened the door for them. They thanked her, got in the car and headed for Bondi.

  Les put the radio on softly, when Georgina reached across and put her hand on his leg. Les swallowed, smiled at her and tried to concentrate on his driving. It wasn’t easy, because the beautiful Georgina had knocked him for a loop. Les hated to admit it, but it was love at first sight. He’d fallen in love with Georgina. And deeply. They pulled up at Chez Norton and went inside. Les had left the light on in the hallway and they walked down to the lounge. Les switched the light on and Georgina looked around.

  ‘This is really nice,’ she said. ‘I like your posters. And I love your bar with that funky little ceramic lamp at the end.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Les. He rubbed his hands together. ‘So can I get you something?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a bourbon and soda.’

  ‘Ice and slice?’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Okay. I might just have a beer. But first, I’ll see what Jimmy’s got to offer.’

  Les put Volcano on, and with ‘Fins’ plying quietly in the background, made Georgina’s drink and opened a Carlton longneck for himself. He took the drinks out to the loungeroom and sat down next to Georgina, just as ‘Fins’ cut out and ‘Volcano’ started bopping out of the speakers.

  ‘I like this track, “Volcano”,’ said Georgina.

  ‘So do I,’ replied Les. ‘The next one’s even better — “Treat Her Like a Lady”.’

  Georgina smiled and looked at Les. ‘You’ve certainly done that tonight, Les Norton,’ she said softly.

  ‘What else could I do, Georgina?’ Les smiled back. ‘That’s what you are.’

  Georgina shook her head at Les. ‘Why did you have to go and say that, Les? You big dill.’

  Georgina put her drink down on the coffee table, reached across and, with her left hand on Norton’s cheek, drew his face towards her and kissed him. Les waited till his heart stopped pounding and started to return the kiss. It didn’t take long before the kissing heated up and Norton could hardly believe it when Georgina slipped a very ‘ethereal’ tip of tongue into Norton’s mouth. Les felt as if he’d just been strapped into an electric chair and copped the full voltage. Next thing they started groping each other between all the torrid kissing till Georgina stood up, slipped her dress up over her head and placed it on the lounge. Les openly gasped. Underneath she was wearing the skimpiest black lace underwear and a tiny suspender belt. Georgina took Les by the hand.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’

  ‘Down the hall. Front room facing the street,’ answered Norton.

  ‘Well come on,’ repeated Georgina. ‘Are we going there? Or do you want to sit on the lounge all night like a battery hen?’

  ‘Holy mother of the Lord,’ said Les, jumping to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’

  By the time they got to Norton’s bedroom, Georgina was out of her underwear, stockings and suspender belt and lying back on Norton’s big comfortable bed. Les was about half a minute behind her and by now Mr Wobbly was a gibbering, foaming-at-the-mouth nutcase. The angry little chap had never been served up anything as good as this before. Les lay down on the bed next to Georgina, kissed her, ran his tongue over her firm, tiny nipples, then caressed the warm magic between her legs. Finally he rolled over and entered her. Georgina gave a delighted sigh of ecstasy and started riding with Les as the big Queenslander began pumping away.

  Les tried to control his emotions. But found he couldn’t and started giving it to Georgina. Yet the harder Les banged away, the more Georgina seemed to like it. She kissed his neck, put her tongue in his ear and drew him into her. Eventually Mr Wobbly could take no more. Les lifted Ronnie’s sister’s beautiful legs up over her head and emptied into her. When he’d finished he got off, slipped his arm around Georgina’s shoulders and held her to him.

  ‘How are you feeling, Georgina?’ he asked her quietly. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Am I okay?’ said Georgina. ‘You bet I’m okay. I’m just fine. How about you?’

  ‘How am I?’ replied Les. ‘I’m a bit better than okay. I’m in love.’

  ‘Now don’t go saying things like that, Les.’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ said Les.

  ‘Well don’t.’

  ‘Hang on while I get a towel.’

  Les got a towel from a drawer then got back into bed and gave them both a wipe. He dropped the towel on the floor and cuddled Georgina.

  ‘Mmmh,’ sighed Georgina, wriggling up against Les. ‘You cuddle nice.’

  ‘So do you,’ said Les. ‘And I’m particularly glad you’re feeling okay.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because I’ve got an awful feeling I might have to attack you again.’

  ‘Might?’ said Georgina. ‘We’ll soon see about might.’

  Georgina moved her head down the bed and began giving Les a polish that brought tears to his eyes. In less than a minute Mr Wobbly was a raging monster again, wanting to rape and pillage. Georgina came up with a big smile on her face and gave Les a long smouldering kiss. When it finished, Les rolled Georgina over on her back.

  ‘Might, eh?’ she chuckled as Les entered her again.

  The second round of lovemaking was even more torrid than the first and went longer. Georgina squealed and wriggled around while Les kissed her and pumped steadily away. Finally Mr Wobbly could take no more and pumping his little chest up, blew his brains out in a bigger explosion than the first one. Les got the towel again, then they lay on the bed together not saying a great deal. Finally Georgina spoke.

  ‘I’d better get going, Les,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Okay.’ They got out of bed and Les started looking around. ‘Christ!’ said Les. ‘All we gotta do now is find our clothes.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Georgina, picking up her stockings. ‘Thanks to you, you ravenous beast, mine are scattered from one end of the house to the other.’

  ‘Sorry,’ apologised Les. ‘Hey Georgina,’ he asked, ‘do you mind if I just throw a tracksuit on to drive you home?’ I’m buggered if I can find my pants.’

  ‘No. That’s all right. I wish I was getting into a tracksuit myself,’ said Georgina adjusting her suspender belt.

  Les put his blue tracksuit and trainers on, Georgina got into her dress and high heels. They had a glass of water each and a bit of a kiss and a cuddle, then both walked out to the car.

  Not a great deal was said during the short drive home. Georgina seemed lost in her own thoughts. Les was trying to keep himself together. Inside he felt his heart was going to burst. He had truly fallen deeply in love with the beautiful brunette from the South Coast and didn’t want to leave her. He had to see her again, no matter what. Finally they pulled up outside Georgina’s friend’s house and Les turned off the engine. They both smiled at each other for a moment or two.

  ‘Well, I guess this is it, Georgina,’ said Les. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Yes Les. I guess it is,’ replied Georgina.

  ‘Georgina,’ said Les. ‘You remember back at my place when I said I was in love? Well, I meant it. I am in love with you. Up to my eyeballs in it with you. And I want to see you again.’
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  Georgina shook her head. ‘No, Les. It just can’t be.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Les. ‘Wollongong’s not the end of the earth. And I won’t pester you. I just want to see you. It’s not just your looks. I love you for your company. You’re great to be with. You’re the best woman I’ve ever met. I mean it.’

  Georgina looked at Les with a sad smile on her face. ‘Oh Les,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘you’re probably the sweetest man I’ve ever met. You’re honest, you’re funny. And you’ve got these old-fashioned values you don’t see in many men these days. I like you a lot. But as for anything else. I’m sorry, Les. It is what it is. And it just can’t be.’

  ‘Why not?’ pleaded Les. He drew back a little. ‘You’ve already got someone. That figures,’ he added with a despondent shrug.

  ‘No. It’s not that,’ said Georgina.

  ‘Then what?’

  Georgina looked at Les and tried to smile. ‘Les. Do you know what I really do for a living?’

  ‘You said you were a sales representative.’

  ‘I’m an escort,’ said Georgina.

  ‘An escort?’ said Les. ‘You mean like …’

  ‘Like an escort. A call girl. A hooker, for want of a better word I suppose. But hey Les, I’m not just some moll working up the Cross to support her habit.’

  ‘Christ!’ grimaced Les. ‘I couldn’t even imagine that.’

  ‘I run a high-class little agency in Wollongong, called Georgie’s Girls. “Our Legs Never Close”. And there’s eight: two cheerleaders from a rugby league team, three of the most beautiful Ukranian girls you’ve ever seen in your life, a French girl who used to model in Paris, a Dutch girl, Antji, who wears braids and looks about twelve in a school uniform. And an ex-Las Vegas chorus girl who’s six feet tall. I tell you, Les. We’re flat out keeping up with the demand.’

  ‘And you as well.’

  ‘And me, Les,’ nodded Georgina. ‘And they all want to bonk the boss.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ remarked Les.

  ‘Which is why I let you go without any protection tonight. I’m on the pill and I knew you’d be all right.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Les, without any hint of sarcasm.

  ‘Would you believe, Les, as well as clients on the South Coast, we’ve got a long list of rich old dudes who come down from Sydney to be with a beautiful girl and get away from anyone who might know them. And a lot of these rich old dudes will happily pay three thousand dollars to take me out to dinner, fill me full of French champagne then get their rocks off without a condom.’

  ‘Well Georgina,’ said Les. ‘I’m certainly not going to say they’ve got more money than sense. I think they know real value when they see it.’

  ‘Nicely put, Les,’ smiled Georgina.

  Les nodded at the windscreen. ‘So that Mercedes with the GG number plates, I imagine that’s yours.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve also got a Jeep Cherokee, a Duccati and two home units overlooking Wollongong Harbour. And another one I live in at Warilla. I’ll do this for a few more years, set Ronnie up in his own home and look after Mum and Dad and my sister. Then …’ Georgina patted between her legs. ‘I might close up shop for a while. And just kick back with all my ill-gotten gains. In fact they’re not ill-gotten gains. I’m a registered company, I pay my taxes and a woman doctor checks the girls out every fortnight.’

  ‘Well,’ said Les, shaking his head. ‘Even though on one side you’ve broken my heart, on the other I can only wish you luck and happiness. But I still love you.’

  ‘Thanks, Les,’ Georgina replied with a kiss.

  Les could sense Georgina wanted to go inside. ‘Well, I suppose you better get going mate,’ he said reluctantly.

  ‘Yes. I suppose I better mate,’ replied Georgina.

  ‘Georgina?’ asked Les. ‘After the few more years roll by, do you think I might still be able to see you then?’

  ‘You never know, Les. You never know,’ said Georgina. ‘I have to admit, you’ve sent my little heart aflutter tonight too.’

  ‘Well, if ever you want to find me, Georgina, just whistle,’ said Les. ‘Hey,’ he added with a grin, ‘you know how to whistle don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ smiled Georgina. ‘Just like one of those little canaries in your friend’s cages.’

  ‘I wondered why you cracked up so much when I told you about that.’

  ‘Cracked up. Oh God. I can’t wait to tell the girls when I get home. That’s pure gold.’

  ‘Anyway lady,’ Les said evenly. ‘I don’t care whether you scratch my eyes out, kick me in the Jatz Crackers or step on my blue suede shoes. I’m going to walk you to the front gate and kiss you goodnight whether you like it or not.’

  ‘Ooooh. Into a bit of domination are you, Les?’ said Georgina. ‘I think I can handle that.’

  Les got out of the car, walked round and opened the door for Georgina, then they stepped across to the gate. Les took Georgina by both hands.

  ‘Well, goodbye Georgina,’ said Les, holding back a tear. ‘Thanks for a fantastic night.’

  ‘Thank you too, Les,’ smiled Georgina. ‘Yes. It was a fantastic night.’

  Their hands tightened round each others’ and they had a long soft kiss.

  ‘Goodnight, Les.’

  ‘Goodnight, Georgina.’

  The gate opened and Georgina went inside. Les got back in the car and drove home.

  Once inside Chez Norton, Les made himself a bourbon and soda and sipped it silently in the loungeroom. He didn’t quite know what to think. Though deep down, he knew it was all too good to be true. Women like Georgina don’t just turn up out of the blue and everyone lives happily ever after. Life is never a fairytale. Les raised his glass to the sky. But thanks anyway, Boss, he smiled. It was great while it lasted. Les finished his drink, cleaned his teeth and without bothering to change, went straight to bed.

  Lying back in the darkness of his bedroom, Norton still felt awfully empty. But before long a heavy tiredness enveloped the big Queenslander and his eyes started to close. Nevertheless, before he fell asleep the tear Les had managed to hold back when he said goodbye to Georgina silently rolled down his face and disappeared amongst the sweet memory of her perfume, still fragrant on his pillow.

  The skies had opened up by now, sending chilly rain tumbling down over Kings Cross while the wind stiffened and the temperature dropped steadily. Les Norton absently kicked an empty cigarette packet lying on the footpath into the dirty water flowing along the gutter.

  ‘So Billy,’ he said, watching the empty cigarette packet float off into the night, ‘that’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been to bed with. And probably the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.’

  Billy Dunne slowly shook his head and flicked a little rain from his jacket. ‘Shit! What a story, Les. That’s something else mate.’

  ‘It is. Isn’t it?’ agreed Norton.

  ‘And did you ever hear from Georgina again?’

  ‘She sent me a card at Christmas. All the girls signed it. I was rapt.’

  ‘That was nice of her,’ said Billy. He gave Les a quiet smile. ‘So do you think she still might whistle, Les?’

  ‘Don’t know, Billy,’ answered Norton. ‘But I do know one thing mate.’

  ‘What’s that, Les?’

  ‘If ever she does. She won’t have to whistle very loud. That’s for sure.’

  SO, YOU WANT TO BE IN MOVIES?

  So you want to be a film star. You want to be up there on that silver screen, have your head seen on TV, earn heaps of money, have girls hanging off you like chokos, travel to exotic places and mix with all the beautiful people. It sure sounds all right. But if you’re thinking of getting into films or TV, be prepared to take the good with the bad and believe me there’s plenty of the latter. I got into movies and TV commercials almost by accident. I wanted to be a writer so I did a two-year course in scriptwriting to get a rough idea of what was going on. I was plodding along gag-writing for disc-jockeys and w
riting the odd ad here and there. Nothing marvellous, mind you, but I was surviving and I seemed to be getting better as I went along so I decided to get myself an agent to handle my scripts. My first agent scrutinised the shape of my melon and said if I could write scripts it just might be possible I could have brains enough to read them. So he sent me for all these parts and being lucky enough to be born with a head like an apple on a stick, and a voice that makes Paul Hogan sound like Sir Laurence Olivier, I cracked it for a fair bit of work. Romantic leads mainly. I was in all the hits. Taurus Rising, Waterloo Station, The Restless Years, Now and Forever and Freedom. Made a heap of sophisticated TV commercials — beer, trucks and industrial clothing. Made stacks of money, which all went in tax. Had girls swarming all over me like ants at a picnic and I got to travel to exotic places like Adelaide, Ipswich, Lithgow and Trangie. Where’s Trangie you ask? Well, Narromine’s 100km west of Dubbo and Trangie’s 100km west of Narromine. It’s way out west where men are men and sheep are nervous. The man with the big cigar (that’s my agent, Kevin Palmer) rang me at home in Terrigal saying the ABC wanted to know if I was available for four or five days for a few scenes in a movie about Filipino brides. I wiped the dust and cobwebs off my appointment book, checked through the tomes of blank pages and told him that as a matter of coincidence I just did happen to have some time available. Kevin said he’d have a casting for me next week, get there and do my best, try not to fuck everything up. No worries, Kev, she’ll be sweet.

  A few days later, he rang to say he wouldn’t bother sending my ‘read’ by mail, he’d give it to me over the phone and I could write it down. He added that, although I was going for the part of Keith, the ‘read’ I was getting was for a character called Davo. I wrote the lines down over a badly connecting phone and it came out looking like a cross between a script for a beer commercial and a page out of The Irish Joke Book of 1853. What the fuck, I thought, I’ll go and give it my best shot.

  I didn’t think my best shot was particularly good enough but somehow or other (possibly because everybody else that went for it must have either died of food poisoning or been killed in car accidents), I got the part. Kevin rang to tell me a couple of days later; I was mildly surprised but Kevin was astounded.