by Anne Eton
“Hold on, I’m thinking.” Another pause. When she spoke again, a new tone had entered her voice—strong and hard. “Will the funeral be in Toulouse?”
“Yes.”
“What time tomorrow?”
Laurence told her.
“You know where?”
“Michelle told me where. Why?”
“Since I can’t call you, you call me back in fifteen minutes. Okay?”
“Peggy, thank you, but—”
“No time. Call me back. Bye.”
Fifteen minutes later, at the youth hostel, Laurence walked to the phone in the common area and dialed Peggy. Peggy picked up on the first ring.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Sorry?”
“What’s your address. Where is your hostel?” Laurence heard the sound of a car’s engine revving high.
The French girl told her. “But why…”
“You’re on a flight to Toulouse, with a connection in Paris.” A squealing noise as tires spun over pavement. “But there’s a catch.”
“What? What catch?”
“We have to get to the airport in less than an hour. Okay, what’s the cross-street of this hostel?”
Laurence told her.
“Go get your passport and anything else you need, but be outside in two minutes.” Peggy hung up.
As they raced toward LAX in Peggy’s shiny Mercedes convertible, Laurence tried to hand her employer’s phone back to Peggy.
“Leave it on your seat,” the brunette said. She accelerated, flying through a yellow light.
“My aunt says she will meet me at the Toulouse airport. If I arrive.”
“Good. Okay, so when you get to the LAX gate, show them your passport. They’ll give you your tickets.”
“I will run.”
“You better.”
As the car screeched to a stop in front of startled baggage handlers, Laurence threw open her passenger door. She turned back to Peggy. “Thank you.” She kissed Peggy on both cheeks, squeezed her hand, then dashed into the terminal.
Two days later, at lunch time, Peggy’s phone rang. She set down her fork and answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hello Peggy.”
“Hi.” A pause. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” The girl’s voice was as calm as ever. “I will be returning tomorrow, so I will be at work in the afternoon.”
“Never mind that. God, honey. What’s happening? Did you make the funeral?”
“Yes. I will tell you more when I return. My phone here, it is the long distance.”
“Oh.”
“But I wanted to say thank you, and that I would be returning tomorrow.”
“You know, the return flight on that tickets is flexible. If you want to stay longer, you can. Really, don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself.”
“I am fine. I am ready to return.”
“Okay, then.”
Laurence gave Peggy her flight arrival information.
“So, see you tomorrow!” Peggy concluded, trying to sound upbeat. “I’ll pick you up outside Arrivals at the curb.”
“Thank you again Peggy.” A slight tremor caught the girl’s voice. “Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
The following morning, Peggy’s Mercedes slowed to a stop outside the international arrivals pickup area of LAX. Laurence was waiting, in the same clothes she had worn when she left. The only difference was that she was now wearing sunglasses.
The girl opened the Mercedes passenger door and entered. “Hello.” She shut the door after her.
“Hi!” Peggy drove away, watching for speeding cars and shuttle buses.
“Thank you for getting me. And for the flight. For everything.” Laurence removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
“Stop thanking me. Listen, I need to figure out how to get back on the freeway, so just give me a minute and then we can talk.”
“Of course.”
After Peggy had negotiated the spaghetti of roads and lanes surrounding LAX and had set the car back on a course to Malibu, she exhaled. Turning to Laurence, she opened her mouth to speak.
The French girl was asleep, collapsed against the car door. She looked utterly exhausted.
Her employer paused, then gently reached across her to lock her car door.
When they finally rolled into Peggy’s garage, Laurence stirred.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” The older woman tousled the girl’s hair.
Laurence blinked. “Where are we?”
“Home. Come on, there’s a surprise waiting for you.” Peggy unclipped her seatbelt and exited the car. Laurence followed her.
In the kitchen, YuLing beamed. “Welcome!”
The housekeeper stood before a set table. A bowl of scallops and mushrooms in cream sauce sat in the middle with a side of steamed green beans. Bread rolls flanked the plates.
Peggy smiled. “I asked YuLing if she could make some Coquilles Saint-Jacques. And haricots… verts? That’s green beans, right?”
Laurence looked at the table wonderingly. Then she turned to Peggy, a question on her face.
Peggy shrugged. “It was the most French meal I could think of.”
The girl laughed. It seemed like an accumulation of stress fell from her. She stood up straighter, and touched her hair. “You’re very kind.”
“Well, let’s eat! Although, can you believe it, I forgot the wine.”
“No problem. I think if I drink anything, anyway, I will fall down.”
After lunch, Laurence dabbed her mouth daintily with a napkin. “That was wonderful. Better than in France, even.”
“You shouldn’t lie to your employer.”
Laurence looked hurt.
“Oh. Okay,” Peggy added. A pause. “It was all YuLing. You can thank her.”
“I will. But this was your idea, no?”
Peggy nodded.
“So I will thank you, also.” Laurence smiled, with difficulty. She looked like she had not smiled in a while.
“Do you want to take a nap?”
The girl shook her head, making her blonde hair slide over her shoulders. “I want to work.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It will help me to do something with my mind that is not all of… that.” She waved, vaguely, indicating something behind her.
“Then you got it. Come on.”
Laurence worked more intensely than ever before, organizing French documents and making notes in many separate spreadsheets. She showed Peggy her calculations.
“These three companies have no valuation statements,” the girl muttered, leaning over Peggy’s desk and showing her a printout. “I will call them, and ask they send the proper documentation.”
Peggy nodded. “With the time difference, the offices are closed now. But you can try them in the morning.”
“It is inexcusable,” Laurence said. “These people! If they do not provide the information, they are stupid, or corrupt. Either way—”
“Okay, okay.” Peggy studied Laurence carefully. “You’ll figure it out in the morning. Calm down.”
The girl sighed. She nodded, rubbing her eyes.
“Ready for a drink?”
“Very much.”
“Wait: you said earlier that if you drank, you would fall down.”
“I’m feeling better. Thank you.” Laurence looked at Peggy with warm eyes. The older woman smiled back. They walked out of the office.
At the bar, as Peggy set aside her own drinks, Laurence said: “I think today I will have two, also.”
In moments the brunette slid two margaritas across the counter to Laurence. The women walked to their chairs.
“It’s overcast today.” Peggy looked up and adjusted her bikini.
Laurence pulled off her T-shirt and removed her bra, as usual. Unbuttoning her jeans, she paused.
“What?”
“My swimsuit. It is at the hostel.” She sighed, a long exasperated sound. Finally she shrugged and pushed he
r jeans off her legs. Her panties were plain white cotton.
“Keep going,” Peggy deadpanned. “They’re shooting a Girls Gone Wild special later.”
“A girls what?”
“Nothing.”
“It is so good to be back here.” Laurence raised one of her drinks to her lips and tipped it, draining the glass.
“You’ll have a good time anywhere, drinking like that.” Peggy smiled.
The girl looked at her. “Can I request something?” she asked in a serious tone.
“Sure.”
“I do not wish yet to discuss my trip. It is… raw.”
“I completely understand.”
“Raw is the right word?”
“Absolutely.”
Laurence nodded. She settled back in her chair, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her face.
After a few minutes had passed, she suddenly opened her eyes again and thrust her hand forward to gulp down her second drink.
Startled, Peggy asked: “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” The girl touched a drop of liquid on her lips. “My mind is just…” she struggled, then shrugged. “Difficult to control. Too many things.”
“I understand, but… never mind. Can I help?”
Laurence sighed and began to shake her head. But then she stopped and gave her employer a sideways smirk.
“What?”
In response, Laurence rose and walked to a lounge chair. She lowered its backrest so that the surface was completely horizontal. The blonde pirouetted gracefully and laid on her stomach, smiling back over her shoulder at Peggy.
“Huh? I don’t get it.”
Laurence rubbed her shoulder, raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, God,” the older woman groaned with false exasperation. “So that’s where we’re at, now? You want the full treatment?”
The girl kept rubbing her shoulder and smiling in an oh-so-cute way.
Peggy rose. “How do you say ‘spoiled brat’ in French?”
”Belle fille.”
”That means pretty girl.”
Laurence laughed, turning her face away. She raised her feet up and made a happy quick scissoring motion.
The older woman picked up a towel and folded it carefully. “Most massage tables are waist-high, you know. You owe me extra for this one.”
The girl did not reply, only paddling her feet faster.
Stooping, Peggy set the folded towel on the titles next to Laurence before kneeling upon the soft surface. She placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Uuuuhhhhh,” the blonde groaned.
“Too hard?”
“No. Please, harder.”
Peggy tightened her grip. Laurence made another low noise of pleasure. Her feet fluttered back down.
Peggy worked her way from the neck and shoulders to the girl’s back, kneading and pushing, working her fingers. “I’m out of practice. My hands used to be a lot stronger. This particular style is shiatsu, by the way.”
“Shiatsu,” Laurence said dreamily. “I love shiatsu.”
Peggy’s hands moved down further. She glanced. The girl’s panties were spread elegantly across her cheeks.
“Mmmmm,” the girl moaned.
“You want legs too?”
“Yes. And feet? Please?”
“Wow. Way to push it,” Peggy said. She grinned. When the masseuse’s hands reached the waistband of Laurence’s panties, they rose and moved over the round rump to descend upon the upper thighs.
The girl mumbled something in French.
Peggy, focused on her work, asked: “What?”
Laurence did not reply. Peggy kept massaging, rubbing, sliding her hands over the girl’s legs. She circled the thighs with her fingers. The older woman’s eyes wandered to the girl’s butt again. It was a perfect heart shape, moving ever so slightly with the girl’s breathing.
Peggy worked her way down the legs, taking her time. Squeezing the girl’s knees only lightly, she continued along the calf muscles, running and sliding the heel of her hand up and down. After paying close attention to the ankles with a slipping motion of her thumb and forefinger, she pulled up one of Laurence’s feet and shifted her own body. But something in the girl’s reaction made her pause. She looked back at her head.
Laurence was asleep. Her light snoring blended with the ocean’s distant noise.
Peggy set the foot back down. She slid her hands lightly up the girl’s legs. Laurence was dead to the world.
As Peggy’s fingers arrived at the area where legs met buttocks, the woman hesitated. She stared again at the girl’s rump. A hint of tanline could be seen where the panties’ hem rode up slightly. The blonde’s ass was perfectly soft and full, blooming with the promise of a pretty girl’s youth.
At length, the older woman sighed. She patted the girl’s butt, letting her hand linger for just a second upon the white cotton. Then she stood up.
* * *
Laurence’s eyes opened. It was dark. She lifted her shoulders with a jerk, making one of the two towels that covered her slide off. “Peggy?”
“Over here.”
The girl turned her head. Peggy sat close by, still wearing her bikini. She inserted a bookmark into a paperback and closed it. Her book light glowed in the dark, illuminating her face.
Laurence gaped, tilting her face up to the black sky. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“A while. I didn’t want to disturb you. You needed your rest.”
“What is the time?”
“A little after ten.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide. “My hostel is closed. I am too late!”
“Yeah, I know. You can sleep here. I was actually about to wake you anyway. Perfect timing. It’ll be getting chilly soon.”
“Sleep here?”
“Yeah. If that’s all right?”
“It is fine, of course.” Laurence stifled a yawn. “But you have done so much for me already.”
“Like I said, I’ll send you a bill.” Peggy grinned. “You hungry?”
The girl shook her head.
“Okay. Come on, let’s turn in. We have a big day tomorrow. I think I’m finally getting a handle on all those spreadsheets you made.”
Peggy stood up and switched off her book light. Laurence rose and gathered her shirt and jeans. Then she followed her employer into the house.
On the second floor, Peggy stopped and turned around. She pointed to an open room with a bed. “Guest quarters.”
Laurence glanced and nodded.
“It has its own bathroom. There’s sheets and towels. And a bathrobe in one of the drawers somewhere.”
Laurence smiled. “It is as nice as your kimono?”
“Uh, that would be a no. Okay. How long have you been wearing those clothes?”
The girl glanced at the bundle in her hand. “Since the day, I think, you took me to the airport.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Give them to me. I’ll throw them in the washing machine.”
Laurence retrieved a few items from the pockets, then handed the jeans over to Peggy along with her T-shirt. Then she slipped her panties down, stepped out of them, and dropped them upon the pile her host held.
Laurence stood nude on the carpet. A few seconds passed. “All righty, then,” Peggy said for lack of anything else.
In response, Laurence stepped forward and embraced her, holding her close. Peggy remained motionless. After a long moment, Peggy repeated: “All righty, then.”
“Thank you,” Laurence whispered. The naked girl kissed Peggy on her cheek. After looking into her eyes, the blonde touched the older woman’s face. Then she entered her guest room, closing the door softly behind her.
Peggy remained standing in the hall a long time. Then she turned to descend the stairs to the garage, where the washing machine was.
Many hours later, Laurence awoke in bed. She stretched like a cat, yawned, and opened her eyes. Weak sunlight streamed through the window.
Rising, the naked girl searched a few drawers before discovering a bathrobe. She donned it, tied the cloth belt around her waist, and exited the room.
Down the hall, she found the source of the noise. Peggy was running on a treadmill. An iPad attached to the console played a show from the E Network. Peggy watched, listening on headphones. Sweat ran down her body. She wore a tight lycra tank top, which was of course clearly custom made. Her big breasts, held perfectly close to her body, did not wobble at all. Spandex tights hugged the toned curvy lower half of her body. Glancing at the door, she smiled and removed her earbuds. “Hi!”
Laurence smiled back. “Hi.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, it is fine. My sleep was perfect.”
“Good. Hey, before I started running I put your clothes in the dryer. They should be done by now. You know where the dryer is?”
“In the garage?”
“Yep.”
“I will get them. Should I wait in the kitchen?”
“Wait wherever you like. YuLing should be here in a few minutes. Just tell her what you want for breakfast. I’ll be down shortly.
They smiled at each other. Laurence departed.
Later, in the office, Peggy tapped her computer’s screen with a pencil. “I think I’m having a revelation.”
Laurence turned from her papers to look at her. “What?”
“Unless I’m very mistaken, the Oil Sands stuff in Alberta is worth more than everything else put together.”
The French girl nodded. “I still need to get valuations from two companies in Québec province. But yes, from the documents I have seen, I have suspected the same.”
“My father liked to invest. In everything. He hated keeping UP with the investments, but anyway. I don’t think he really knew what he had, here.”
“He was disorganized, you said?”
“Yes… and he didn’t listen to anybody. Least of all whatever secretary he had that week. They would always quit, they couldn’t take him. So he had piles of papers, towers of them, all over his office.” She turned to Laurence with wide eyes. “My father was a wealthy man, as you probably guessed. But if he had realized that his investment in the Oil Sands had taken off… he would have bought an island, or something. He had gone to the next level, and he didn’t even know it.”