Lap of Luxury

by Lisa-Ann Carey

  “Yeah, a real dirty animal with rotting teeth and stinkin’ breath,” she snarled then giggled until she hit the bedroom. She closed the door and locked it and sprawled her weary body across the queen size bed turning onto her side. She placed the bills on the bedside table and undid the string on the package slowly and tore the brown paper. Inside was a video, a shirt, a pair of stretch cotton underdaks and a stack of letters wrapped up with a ribbon and a greeting card.

  Leaning over the bed she turned on the CD player and played Highway To Hell.

  On the card’s face was a black and white photograph of the football team Terrance belonged to at St. Paul’s Boarding School, they had their helmets off for the shot. Their he was, could she believe what she saw… that same gorgeous teenager, with those smiling eyes, that same naughty smile, that impressive height, that same bulky chest, that copious dark hair swept back in a style similar to her husbands. That character she adored. She took a deep breath and held it for a short time then blew on the young man’s face. The figure of the same height that stood next to him had been inked out. Immediately she wondered whom it was that had been standing there.

  A hot energetic tingling tickled her storehouse to swelling point, her tight panties met her needs to some degree as tasty messages of Terrance’s body shape, his dress, his touching, his kissing, his display of his sexual object, his total physical contact, his wicked jokes flirted with her heart and her mind, at least that’s what she’d thought she had experienced at the Falls, or did she? Was it just a dream? She feared it was a warning sign of emotional disturbance, she laughed, a riproaring belly laugh then cried a river.

  Stress, over the years had been firmly fixed to the illness she suffered. At times the stress chemicals from her body were difficult to budge even with St. John’s Syrup, the only thing that really helped remove them was deep, sensuous love, having a potent and curative attack on the malady itself.

  Her eyes favoured the opening:

  LisaAnn,

  Your name is as fresh as my flesh, like the salt air that you breathe in each new morn. I am alive and well and I have been taking things slow and easy and hope you have been doing the same, I’m here to protect you, your address I found amongst my valuables. Included in the package are some of the gear I wear underneath my coveralls when I serve at Pantex.

  Maybe you didn’t get to know me very well, that can be both a help and a hindrance, I am as irresistible as always and am still very, very brave.

  Check out my video I made just for you and enjoy reading the letters I was too chicken to send.

  Should you want to catch up on those aspects of the treasure you thought you’d lost I can be contacted on 111282747682390 Hawaii.

  I think you’ll find me warm and sunny and I hope this finds you the same.

  Sincerely,

  Terrance Molakai

  She struck away a runaway tear from her cheek with the edge of her fingernail, “I’ve missed you Terrance, you meant so much to me. What a blessing you are still around. I never got to tell you our child died in the womb. How I long to tell you everything.”

  The realization she could have him back with her, in a sense, settled that longing feeling. Flashes in her mind of his golden seventeen-inch throbbing puffy penis made her blush. Terrance’s grandest feature.

  Her mind mysteriously did not recall his forcefulness or the other rape scenes she was too caught up with the breathless moment. At this point LisaAnn felt she had complete power over her entire life. For quite a while she had forgotten the man she’d married, listened, understood, and loved her like no other, the babies she bore cherished her and couldn’t live without her. Would she risk all of this for a past love? The medical duo were very much in love, he would never be disloyal to her, in fact, she had been the one who had hurt him in the deep dark past.

  Would this mouthwatering hunky man lead her astray yet again and bring willing betrayal knocking at the door of their perfect Chapel Of Love? John, spiritual John, would fight for what he believed, or would he have the strength to search for her a second time if she were to take off again?

  LisaAnn simply lacked the courage to share her secret. She knew he’d be extremely angry if he ever knew. “Could I go through life never knowing any more than what I know about the man that I thought was savagely torn from my arms on that fateful day in Detroit? I want so desperately to see that sweet face again, feel him climb inside me again and again,” she whispered with urgency.

  Beside her bed, a photo of John, gorgeous in the buff, reminded her of how much loving support he had given her over the heartbreaking times. It would be hard, very hard to walk out on such a perfect and sinless gent now. She felt blue as she walked over to the window.

  Under the bedroom window the rain watered the flowers which splashed a token of hilarity against her unhappy skies.

  Tears choked her taut throat in the tough decision between which side of the fence she preferred, stable family man John or the man with no commitments, Terrance. Something deep inside her itched to spread her wings and be free. Would she share the decision to dive off or remain afloat with anyone in his family or hers or should she keep it to herself and decide for herself?

  If anything serious were to happen she’d opt for the third choice.

  John was an orderly person who liked his comfort. He was busily laying out her ruffle-wrap and his silk pyjamas and their mink robes on the feather-filled soft bed in the attic. His eyes looked lustily over each and every well-placed object of elegance in the cosy room with the most charming view of the island.

  His eyes flashed through the glass panels at a smaller desert sand island where coconut and royal palms laced the shore. A wonderful idea popped into his tidy mind upsetting the perfect balance of well-patterned thought as he collapsed with a sinking feeling into the snugness of a comfortable movable seat for two.

  All week LisaAnn and John dusted and tidied the room in readiness for a pleasurely and leisurely weekend of toothsome indulgence of their delicacies.

  The patients, the thought pounded his mind, they miss out on the comforts of a family home, their friends and family have more or less deserted them, they only visit them occasionally, they interfere when they do pay a visit, they want them locked away in Sunnyvale for the rest of their lives, they don’t trust them anymore.

  Pitiful teardrops rolled from his eyes until his eyes were red and swollen. He walked slowly down the steep narrow steps that led to a type of empty square foyer, two bedrooms side by side filled one wall and another angularly positioned off an opposite wall. Running his hand along the balustrade he walked down the next set of steps and all along the wall were photographs of her mother and herself and a large one in the middle, of her and John on their wedding day.

  To the left, at the base of the stairs he walked down a hall to a room at the end, the laundry, where Hansom Hiawatha was curled up in his basket. He fed him some dry dog biscuits and filled his bowl with fresh water then brushed his short coat until it shined.

  “Even this dachshund has a home, a place for good, simple food, listening to bedtime stories being read to children, the sound of music, catching a ball, a yard to run around in and a warm clean bed. I want to design a luxurious home filled with these comforts and more on that little island on the edge of the bay for my needy clients.”

  He returned to the attic. In the corner stood an elegant rough white brick fireside, it soon came alive with a glowing burst.

  In a flash his day clothes were off and his mink robe wrapped around his sportive physique. Bright-eyed and filled with optimism, from the certain knowledge – his woman needed him to blast away the past, it was a sure essential being a peace-loving guy, his gentle manner gave her peace of mind, understanding this he lay back nibbling on caramel stuffed white chocolate balls confident of a stable future.

  A late afternoon dream of a perfect night with a Hawaiian Knight disappeared with the remembrance of an invitation of intimacy with King John in the lit
tle room upstairs.

  Each sexy curve of John’s cute buttocks in the photo nagged his wife into believing an old flame was better extinguished and never again reignited. Out of sight, out of mind.

  She couldn’t bring herself to discard the package so instead she sort of re-wrapped it and hid it in a safe with her diary behind their honeymoon picture, taken when they were in France.

  A flush of guilt burned her barely warm cheeks as she lightly pressed the creases from her lightweight petticoat. The quartz clock clicked ten o’clock. She twisted the door handle after leaping up the stairwell and crept into the attic like a spider. The moment the doorknob turned he awoke bolt upright with bolt upright at her glamorous appearance. As they came together their hearts thundered. John recalled her Aunt’s comment on how LisaAnn’s mannerism, her sweet face and shape closely resembled her mother Pamela-Marie. The only difference was the colour and length of her hair and the colour of her eyes.

  “Peace makes everything feel right, I feel peaceful in the presence of the greatest spiritual teacher of our time,” she told him.

  “I’m amazed at the crowds of dozens I attract, it must be a special brand of spirituality.”

  Their love was a special brand of love. During the next hour there was pin-drop silence. To LisaAnn it was beautiful.

  “Once forgiven for a fault, trust follows. Peacefulness and patience help us to survive this busy world and when we forgive it draws us closer to each other and closer to the man upstairs,” he told her.

  “You are a man bursting with promise, I adore you.”

  An intense surge of pride and power zapped from his love-addicted heart as she nibbled on his corn on the cob. Their lips puckered they kissed every throbbing part of each other, his seminal fluid created in her a wellness, like hyacinth it stopped her feeling blue. A happy feeling, a happy healing, he rocked her to sleep exciting her rosebud another time, the same, the next morning, a powerful pick-me-up. His powerful ingredient worked. He was so calm and accepting and as cuddly as a teddy bear without snoring, without kicking off the quilt, he had helped her sleep soundly all night long.

  Their birthdays always arrived and were always celebrated, together on the very same day, the last gift he had made for her was a Celtic bangle, making her gifts himself was a perpetual ritual that excited him, and all he wanted from her was her deep sweet love.

  That morning after they ran around together under the shower and dried off she casually climbed into her crimson dodge pants of three quarter length, the three white stripes down each outer side of her legs seemed to lengthen them, much to John’s pleasure. He fitted her dreamy breasts into each cup of her bra and hooked it up with unsteady fingers, smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric, then carefully slipped her white Singlet over and flattened out the triple stripes on the shoulder sections, placing a kiss of honour on each one. He then clasped her bracelet on her shapely wrist. She ran her fingers over the smooth gold and lightly touched the rough diamond crosses that caressed it.

  “Your goodness is as health-giving as a breath of fresh air,” she told him kissing him.

  “You are more glorious than that uninterrupted view we take solace from every day LisaAnn my bubbly beauty.” His fudge-free verdict yet another sweet edge to her stirring life story she scored daily in her diary.

  In the business of healing, he raised, the best and the brightest physician he had ever had the privilege to work with was, her.

  “I hardly know where to pin such an elaborate decoration.”

  “Right over your heart and wear it with pride.” He placed a sexy kiss on the left side of her chest.

  “Helping others to understand the agony of slaps, slugs and smite changes their lives,” she accurately analysed.

  “Our goal is to stop the axe from falling on the heads of the innocent, we must be their shadow of protection as they beat the heat of the hellish,” he added.

  Everyone, especially her, needed a sharp navigator like John as their chief comrade in work, play or war.

  His rich blessings were her fortune. How he had transformed her life over the recent past was nothing short of a powerful miracle.

  Would she find contentment in the arms of yesterday’s beach-boy waiting around the corner for her in Hawaii? Repeating both their names in her dreams made her feel good all over.

  A peep inside her panties at her cuddly cub just blew her husband’s mind one more time before the dream-world became the end of that very special chapter.

  Say she did phone Terrance, would this be the end of their love story?

  John and LisaAnn making love in attic

  Chapter Seven

  A firm trust had been built between the babies and their parents. The security Joey-John and Lisa-Marie felt now would help develop bravery in later life. The last thing they needed was to have that trust destroyed.

  When they were frightened they were held tightly and soothed. In the past when LisaAnn was frightened her father scolded her hoping this would help her overcome her fear of him. In fact this was most harmful. As the years marched on she became more frightened and these days she fought the guilt for being frightened, frightened of the past.

  She wished her father’s personality and hers did not clash, he should have been there to shelter her, she couldn’t even remember the one time he may have smiled at her, and if he did it would have only masked the abusive monster within.

  Why wasn’t I his adoring little daughter, his playful friend, she thought now, I missed out on so much.

  During the few times her mother and her rocked each other to sleep after he walked out were times he spent with girlfriends drinking himself to death almost, dancing and romancing them throwing his memories of his family into the sea of forgetfulness and hardly remembering them at all. Watching the babies roll around the playpen grasping at soft toys she silently promised them she would give them everything they needed, she would not let them miss out on anything, not like how it had happened for her. John had taken the time to listen to this vital part of her story in the warmth of their bed, he kissed her tears away and held her close.

  The dachshund had brought in the morning paper after he had ran all the way to the jetty in time for the delivery boat to arrive, the delivery boy placing it in his mouth ordering him to take it to his master. At times, along the leaf-littered path through the rainforest, a bandicoot would distract him, he would drop the paper and chase it into an empty log then return to the paper and continued on with the procedure of delivering The Moreton Bay Observer to the Wright household.

  When he reached the porch he pushed the door open with his nose, raced up the steps as fast as his little legs could leap dropping the paper outside the door to the attic.

  John heard the scratch on the door, opened it, bent down and patted the weary dog praising him with all his might. He picked up the roll from the mat and slipped it out of the plastic cover. The dog circled the room, lapped water from a dish in one corner and curled up by the fire.

  On the front page a sad story brought the Doctor to tears. It told of a battered hostel for the mentally ill in West End, Brisbane that its occupants had somehow survived years of sickening violence and lunatic rule by what patients called a headhunter. The residents faced an uncertain future after reports of a patient who feared water had her head dunked in the bath until her face became blue, had buckets of water thrown over her by the vicious supervisor to tease her. Helpless patients were given the wrong medicines just so the supervisor could laugh at the results. She watched them turn inside out torturing them like this was no greater pleasure.

  “Somebody with experience and a kind heart needs to take over and rescue these poor unfortunates,” an authority figure said.

  Visits from the health department found many of the patients appeared listless they were whimpering from nightly bashings as they lay in their beds. Their stomachs were so knotted they could hardly keep down their meals.

  John asked the medical team to join him
in discussions about the hostel. LisaAnn was asked to sit in on the talk but refused saying she’d felt too worn out to think, handing over the twins to Jayne and Ewan to amuse while she took the cordless phone into the bathroom and locked herself in.

  The men agreed their comfort and security were not being met that was why their natural exuberance for life ceased to flow through them.

  “They’ve had their zest for living plucked out of them by a woman who is clearly not equipped for the position. They say she is 73 years of age, I think it’s about time these patients were transferred to your Hospital John,” James said explaining that they needed his old fashioned tender loving care.

  Nearly all of them had open sores on their bodies and across their faces from being beaten with a stick. “We cannot let these people suffer and die, look it says one has had his nose cut off with a laser sharpened kitchen knife because he refused to assist with the washing up. She’s so cruel she needs to be placed on the scrap heap,” was Tim’s idea, he wanted so much to lift their spirits and let them know there were better times ahead to keep dreaming that each can become somebody some day.

  “They’ve had their fair share of hard times. It has got to stop and we shall make it stop,” John said.

  Everyone has a secret and a secret place so wild the old disappears and the new inspires and explodes from the mist of creativity to hover over the sandy beach of a restful mind where the first tide gently washes in and attracts and the second rushes in and sweeps us out to the sea of cupidity.

  A flood of good fortune flushed paltry feelings of cramping uneventfulness from her series of wanting when lacking.

  The rambling number was dialed during a wash of freedom. Soon LisaAnn found herself catching up with the faster rhythm of a past glory. As soon as her ears cottoned onto his wild American accent she immediately wished he were there beside her.

  “Molakai speaking,” his buttery twang slippery-dipping through her burning ears down through her trembling inner tubes melting as the echo drizzled out of her hot-spot turning into a bubbling brook of maple syrup sweetening the bathing milk she was soaking in.