And De Fun Don't Done

by Robert G. Barrett

  Lori decided to go along with the gag. ‘Yes, you’re right. It is getting bad over here. And you’re lucky back in Australia. It’s just that I was worried about… carjacking.’

  ‘What?’ Norton screwed up his face.

  ‘Carjacking. Muggers wait at the lights or wherever, then jump out with guns and take your car.’

  Norton’s face was pure disbelief. ‘You’re kidding? You mean hoodlums can come up in broad daylight or whatever, and just order you out of your car? That’s unbelievable.’

  ‘Yes it’s awful. Just awful.’ Although she managed to hide it, Lori was a lot happier now. She had Norton’s measure without blowing her cover, so she decided to keep playing him along for a jerk. ‘Actually, there was an attempted one today. A black guy got shot not far from here.’

  ‘Yeah. What, was it on the news? I haven’t read a paper or listened to a radio since I been here.’

  ‘Yeah. It was on the news.’ It was a perfect call for Lori to keep stringing Les along, yet somehow she couldn’t help going into cop mode. ‘We… They think it was a self- defence thing, though it looked more like a Mafia hit the way the guy was shot all neat and clean in the head. But it’s not usually the way the mob does things. They don’t leave bodies lying around. They generally bury them or dump them out at sea. And the guy was a known junkie. It was a funny one.’

  ‘Ohh yeah. Real funny. Let’s just hope they catch the people responsible. That’s bloody terrible.’

  ‘Hah!’ Lori gave a short, scornful laugh. ‘Fat chance of that. No witnesses, no gun, no nothing. And it’s the sixth shooting for the week.’

  Really? thought Norton. Isn’t that encouraging. And it’s only Tuesday too. ‘Oh well, maybe they’ll catch whoever’s responsible. And let’s hope they do. In the meantime, could you do me a favour?’

  ‘Sure, Les. What’s that?’

  ‘Would you mind taking your bag off the coffee table and keeping it on the lounge next to you? Those things unnerve me.’

  Lori smiled; she could hardly believe Norton’s naivety. ‘Okay.’ She reached over and picked up her handbag then took another sip of vodka and orange.

  ‘And you can put your foot back up on the table. I’ll still give it a rub for you if you want.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? I said I would. If I don’t you’ll probably shoot me now.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I’ll do that.’

  Lori relaxed and placed her foot back on the coffee table. She wasn’t going to knock this back, her feet were genuinely killing her; and Les had to be the sweetest square who ever lived and breathed. Norton felt like saying, Yeah, stick your big, flat, smelly walloper’s feet up on the table for me to rub, I don’t mind. It’s just part of the shit poor mugs like me have got to go through to get a root. But changed his mind. Actually, Lori didn’t have big, smelly walloper’s feet. When Les removed the white, ankle-length cotton sock, with the little red hearts on it, it was quite okay; clean, nicely trimmed toenails and dusted well with talcum powder. Les looked at it for a moment, noticing the slight swelling round the ankle, rubbed his hands together vigorously to get the Kirlian energy and some warmth going, then wrapped them around Lori’s ankle and instep and squeezed, gently but firmly.

  ‘Is this your crook angle? The one that’s hurting?’

  ‘Ohh yeah,’ Lori moaned softly. ‘Is it ever.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  ‘But God! that sure feels good.’

  ‘I thought it might.’

  Norton had huge strong hands at the best of times. He gripped Lori’s ankle, pressing it as he gently rotated her foot for a while then put both thumbs in the ball of her foot, pressed a bit harder and started massaging. Lori let out a groan of delight, closed her eyes and settled back on the lounge; the way she was moaning and sighing and wriggling around Les thought she was either going to cough in her rompers or break wind right in his face. He rubbed her foot a moment or two more then stopped.

  ‘There’s something missing,’ he said. ‘Don’t go away.’ Lori opened her eyes; before she had a chance to say anything Les was back from the kitchen with a bottle of virgin olive oil and a tea towel. He dripped some oil on his hands, rubbed them together again and smiled at Lori. ‘Now, where was I?’

  Norton tore into Lori’s feet with a vengeance. He massaged and kneaded her insteps and soles, rubbed her sweet little toes, ran his fingers in between them, got his fingers into her heel and her Achilles tendon. Lori was moaning and sighing one minute, purring like a kitten the next. Les put more oil on his hands and put extra work in on her bad ankle. His hands were getting a bit stiff an the end but Norton was getting a kick out of listening to Lori giggling and sighing and watching her arch her back on the lounge with her eyes closed.

  ‘Well, I got to take a breather,’ said Les. ‘Or have a drink anyway.’ He gave his hands a wipe and took a lengthy slurp of bourbon. ‘So how was that?’

  ‘Ohh Les.’ Lori half opened her eyes. ‘That was unreal. What can I say?’

  ‘I give good hand, don’t I?’

  ‘Do you what. You should charge by the hour.’ Lori reached across and took a sip of her drink also.

  ‘Yeah I know.’ Norton looked at Lori thoughtfully over his bourbon. ‘You know what half the trouble with your feet is?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Those jeans you wear. They’re too tight and they’re cutting off the circulation to your legs.’

  ‘You really think so? You could be right too. Sometimes they do feel awful tight.’

  ‘They’re killing you. What you should do is take them off and let me give your legs a bit of a rub too. Get the circulation going.’

  Lori looked evenly at Les through half-closed eyes. ‘Oh, you think so, do you?’

  ‘Bloody oath, woman. I wouldn’t tell you a lie.’

  ‘And just how are you going to rub my legs on that coffee table?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of the coffee table.’

  ‘Where then?’

  ‘What about on that great big queen-size bed in there, that belongs to this co called Mafia boss you’re having yourself on about?’

  Lori looked at Norton and seemed to think for a second; next thing tiny chuckles started to ripple across her shoulders. She tossed back her head, laughed out loud then came round and sat herself down on Norton’s knee; eyes wide open now and looking devilish. She put her arms around Norton’s neck and Les kissed her on the chin.

  ‘What an absolutely fabulous idea. I think I like you, Les Norton.’

  Less pressed his hand into the small of Lori’s back and kissed her again. ‘Buggered if I know why.’

  It didn’t take Lori long to get her clothes off. Whether she was madly keen to have a wonderfully romantic evening with Norton or whether she just wanted to be able to skite one day to her cop pals about how she screwed some aussie guy on Ricco DiCosti’s bed, Les didn’t know and he didn’t particularly care. By the time Lori was down to a pair of skimpy white knickers with tiny red hearts, just like her socks, Norton was down to absolutely nothing except Mr Wobbly all pumped up and rearing to go. He lay on the bed alongside her and started massaging her thighs and backside with one hand while he rubbed the back of her neck with the other and started kissing her. Lori’s lips were absolutely delightful, even nicer than her feet, and her tongue was as sweet as honey. Les kissed her lips and face, ran his tongue lightly around her neck then started kissing her breasts and nipples. Lori dropped her tongue in his ear and Les felt as if a tarantula wearing ballet slippers had just run up and down his spine. Lori’s kissing got steamier and she began scrabbling her fingers through Norton’s hair. Les slid his right hand up from her thighs and began massaging her breasts; there was still some oil on his hands and between that and their moist bodies her breasts yielded wonderfully, filling even Norton’s huge hands. He rubbed and caressed her some more, while Lori started to moan and press herself against him, then he moved his hand down and started
stroking her ted. Lori was starting to juice up now and under her knickers if felt like several slices of succulent Queensland paw-paw and was probably just as sweet. Les slipped his hand inside her knickers and let his fingers do the walking, mainly his middle one, through her silken, neatly trimmed pubes, then moved Lori’s legs together and slipped her knickers off. Lori opened her legs and Les went to work with his finger, rubbing it across her clit and poking it inside as far as he could. Lori started to moan louder, almost sobbing with hunger; it was music to Norton’s ears. Then the evil Mr Wobbly started growling and throbbing like a Bertram inboard wanting to take things over. Les spread Lori’s legs and got in between her, she grabbed his dick for a second then let go. Les lifted her legs a little then Mr Wobbly put his head down and began burrowing away. Poor Mr Wobbly, he almost broke his neck. Lori had the tightest ted Norton had ever come across. They were both pumping out body fluids and lathered up enough to slide out of the county, but Les was having all the trouble in the world getting in. He arched his back, pushed and shoved while Lori moaned and groaned, checked to make sure he was in the right hole, but to no avail. Norton had about an average dick, bigger than some, smaller than others, but the way Lori was squawking you’d have thought she’d jumped into the cot with Johnny ‘The Wad’ Holmes. Forget about a mouse’s ear: this was like a pencil sharpener and all muscle. Les couldn’t figure it out. Maybe when Lori was in the gym doing aerobics she’d been doing bench presses with her labia it was that hard.

  ‘Listen, Lori, I got a great idea,’ gasped Les.

  ‘What’s that?’ gasped Lori.

  ‘You get on top.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Norton lay back on the bed, held Lori under the ribcage while she rested her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself down. Before long, she had part of Mr Wobbly in, shaking her head around and squealing as she started going up and down like a chook trying to lay a square egg. Norton’s face was a wrinkled mask of pain. There wasn’t all that much going in, but it felt like there was a hand inside Lori’s ted and it was trying to tear his knob off. Lori started going faster and faster, Les just screwed his face up and thought, I’m doing this for Australia. Finally she managed to rub her clit against Norton’s dick long enough and with a howl like a werewolf blew her brains out. Les went off about the same time, then lifted Lori up and laid her gently down alongside him. It wasn’t a bad sort of ‘sexual finale’, but it definitely wasn’t Norton’s idea of a good root. Though it wasn’t Lori’s fault, or Les’s. For a good night’s porking with Special Agent Benshoff you’d need a forty-four- gallon drum of Vaseline and a dick like a sardine.

  Les got a towel, wrapped it around them and kissed Lori as if she was a cross between every Mills and Boon book ever written, the Kama Sutra and all his dreams come true. Okay, so she’d used him just as a sex object so she could tell Ricco on the day of the arrest that she’d done some heavy bonking on his bed, but she was probably a good woman underneath. Besides, she was still a cop and it would be best to keep her sweet rather than just throw her up in the air then throw her out the door. Not that Norton had done anything, but he had been a witness to a killing, the car was just out the front and if something did turn up and Lori had the shits with him, well, hell hath no fury like a woman from the Department of Justice scorned. Norton gave her back a bit of a rub and suggested that if they were quiet they could sneak out and have a quick swim. Lori said yes.

  They slipped out the back door and skinny-dipped quietly around the pool, washing away the sweat from the evening’s sexual activities in steamy southern Florida. Les didn’t make any sexual advances towards Lori, just swam round the pool and gave her the odd kiss now and again. Lori gave Les the odd kiss too and told him her ankle felt unbelievably better, Les was quite a guy. Norton shrugged and tried his best to look modest. Back in the condo Les slipped into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans while Lori got changed. He made two more drinks, small ones and raised his glass when Lori walked out and sat down on the other side of the bar again.

  ‘Well Lori, what can I say? That’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. I’d like to see you again, only we’ll take my car — and next time you can do my feet,’ he added with a laugh.

  Lori smiled and tinkled the ice in her glass. ‘That sounds like a good idea. But I’ve got a bit to do this week.’

  ‘Ohh yeah. You work at the pictures of a night don’t you? The movies, or whatever you call them.’

  ‘That’s right, Les. You remembered. Yes, so that doesn’t help things much.’ Lori looked at Les over the top of her drink. ‘But maybe next weekend. Say Saturday?’

  ‘You’ve got me. If I can wait that long.’ Norton picked up Lori’s hand and started kissing her fingertips again. Lori sipped her drink and let Norton go for his life. ‘Well,’ said Les, placing her hand back on the bar, ‘I suppose you’d better get going. Don’t want you arriving at the marina half asleep and falling in the water.’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’

  ‘If you do look like drowning, give me a yell and I’ll be straight over to give you the kiss of life.’ Les reached across the bar and kissed Lori full on the lips and slipped his tongue in her mouth for a second. ‘Just like that.’

  Lori giggled and finished her drink. ‘You’re crazy, Les. You’re sweet. But you’re still crazy.’

  ‘I told you, it’s that Spanish wine. It just seems to bring out the passion in me. Les gave her a wink. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you out to your car.’ He pointed to Lori’s handbag still sitting on the lounge. ‘Don’t forget your grenade launcher.’

  Les got Lori into the VW and kissed her goodbye. He’d give her a ring through the week and she had his number if she wanted to give him a call. Don’t forget Saturday. Goodnight, Les. Thanks for a lovely evening. We’ll see what happens. She drove off and Les could faintly hear Diana Ross warbling ‘Come See About Me’. Les went inside the closed the door.

  He made up what he could of the bed, cleaned his teeth then turned off the lights and flopped down on his back. It wasn’t long before he was sweating again. Although he was starting to get used to it now and at least there were no mozzies. It had been a strange old day. In a true sense he was lucky to be alive. Finding out what Ricco and Vinnie were up to was more or less expected, though not necessarily needed. But what about porking Constable Plod? And who said things were always bigger in Texas? Norton laughed to himself. Won’t that be a yarn for Billy Dunne and the boys when he got back home. Now, what’s on tomorrow? Ohh yeah. Souvenirs for Billy Dunne and the boys back home. Christ! How many T-shirts have I got to get? Warren wanted about eight. Les was thinking on this and one or two other things when before he knew it he’d dozed off again.

  Les was in the kitchen about ten-thirty the following morning, after getting himself a bit of breakfast; it was too hot to bother cooking anything so he just had some fruit and a bit of toast and coffee. He was kind of looking forward to the day, tooling around Siestasota in the T- bird with no Hank, no Ricco, nobody to annoy him, just doing his own thing for a change at his own pace. Norton had got out of bed earlier and because it was still so stinken hot and just to be dirty on himself he decided to take the bike up to the little shopping centre to pick up some things: milk, more orange juice, etc. This had him sweating like a pig as usual when he got back, then a long swim and a few sit-ups and a cold shower afterwards had the big red-headed Queenslander feeling pretty good. He was sitting at the bar, sipping a large orange juice and ice, half looking at his map of Siestasota and half thinking about the previous night. Secret agent Benshoff, eh? he chuckled to himself. Wasn’t that a bit of a funny one. Though I don’t think Mr Wobbly’s seeing the funny side of it this morning. He looked like he fell off a motorbike without wearing his leather jacket and helmet. And what about Ricco and Vinnie, the Mafia money men? What a nice quinella. And you can throw in Captain Rats for the trifecta. May as well add Constable Plod and make it the quadrella. Christ! Can I find them! About the only decent people I’ve
met here have been the girl on the red velvet swing and her cousin. And she won’t be back still Saturday.

  Les sipped some more orange juice and looked at the map again. According to it, there was something called Siestasota Square Shopping Mall, about five miles to the right out the front of the estate going towards Salmo. Yes, thought Les, that looks alright and I think Hank’s mother mentioned something about it being a good place to shop. I can go out there, get all my T-shirts and junk. There’s a post office up at that shopping centre. I can get a box from somewhere and send it all home, save me lumping it around. Then after that I might take a run over to that St Almonds Circle or wherever it was I saw that funny country band. That looked very Double Bayish over there. One never knows what choice goodies I might pick up just for Uncle Les. And I might shout myself a nice lunch while I’m there. Les clicked his fingers. Then later on I might go out, say hello to Mrs Laurel, and pick up my Walkman. He finished his orange juice and rinsed the glass. Well, no use hanging around here like a stale bottle of piss. It’s a lovely day outside and I got places to go, things to do and people to see. Norton slipped into a clean pair of shorts a clean white T-shirt, got his wallet and VISA card then locked up the flat and went out to his car.

  The power windows were a great idea. This meant you had to be in the car with the ignition on and the seat-belt warning light banging in your ear while you tried to find the switch to wind the windows down and the inside of the car was like a bloody pizza oven.

  ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ!’ Norton cursed out loud. ‘What a cunt of a fuckin’ idea! Don’t tell me it’s gonna be one of those days.’

  He got all four windows down, then put them all back up again and shoved the air-conditioning on full before he dissolved. After a few minutes he felt a bit better, the breeze coming out of the dash was quite refreshing on his face and at least the steering wheel didn’t quite burn all the skin from his hands. Norton kicked the motor over, backed out and began diving over the speed humps around what seemed like the neverending parking spaces of the estate. Although he was a bit loath to admit it, the big car still felt good to drive. There was a skinny black bloke wearing sunglasses and jeans shuffling around dragging a broom behind him. Les gave him a smile and a wink and got a wave in return. Les got to the roadway and pulled up for a break in traffic when a thought occurred to him. He’d forgotten to bring any tapes with him and the T-Bird had a four-speaker stereo. Oh well. Let’s see what’s on the local radio stations. I haven’t even bothered tuning into the one inside the flat yet. He switched it on, hit the scanner button at the end and turned up the volume. Next instant the entire car filled up with raunchy fiddles, twanging guitars, a honky-tonk piano and some good ol’ boy wailing.