Anne's Collection #1: Five Stories

by Anne Eton

  Laurence smiled. “So now you, too, are at the next level?”

  “It sure seems that way.”

  The girl bounded up from her chair and ran to give her startled employer a hug. ”Félicitations!” she exclaimed. “That means congratulations.”

  “Oh. Merci!” They laughed.

  That afternoon, the women lounged in their usual chairs by the pool. Laurence wore only her panties, as she had the day before.

  Peggy sighed. “You know? I think I’m over the hump with all this estate stuff.”

  Laurence lifted one of two margaritas in front of her. She sipped. “What is, ‘hump?’”

  “Like, a hill, or obstacle.”

  “Also, ‘fuck,’ yes?

  “Uh, well, yeah, but I didn’t… What I meant was, I think I’m getting a handle on everything. I’m starting to understand exactly what all the pieces of the estate are.” That day they had placed a large map of Canada on the wall and indicated the locations of businesses with labeled push-pins. “The meeting with my siblings is in two weeks. By then I should have a really good grasp of the estate. Holy shit though, what a journey, huh? How many hundreds of documents were there?”

  “Thousands.” The girl closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face.

  “I can’t believe we did it. Hey. I’m going to need you here when I’m in Ottawa. I’m sure a lot of horse-trading will go down and I’ll need you to check facts for me. Can you stay here for a few days while I’m gone? I might need to call at any time.”

  “Of course.” The girl still did not open her eyes.

  After a pause, Peggy said: “Anyway. Enough business! You ready for your rub?”

  Laurence shielded her face from the sun and glanced sideways. A slow smile. “I was thinking, perhaps something else.”

  “You’re kidding. The way you like massages?”

  “Yes. As a way of saying congratulations for today, and thank you, and all of that, I was thinking maybe I can try the massage of you. Massage for you? How do you say that?”

  “Uh, just, um, I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know how you would say that, exactly. But if you want to, sure. You don’t have to.”

  Laurence rose to her feet with a coltish leap. “Of course I do not have to! But I want to.” A thought occurred to her. She looked troubled. “And also of course, I have had no training so mine will not be as good as yours…”

  Peggy put her at ease. Soon the older woman was face down on the lounge chair with her head lying on crossed forearms. She stretched her toes back as far as they would go, lengthening her prone body.

  “So in fact, not only have I no training, I have never even done this before.” The blonde girl set a folded towel carefully on the tiles, then knelt upon it.

  “How exciting.”

  “Do not joke, I am nervous. You must tell me how to do this.”

  Peggy shrugged and closed her eyes. “Just relax. Start high, and work your way down.”

  “No other advice?”

  “Nope. Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”

  Laurence’s brow furrowed. She placed her hands upon Peggy’s upper back and squeezed gently.

  “See there?” Peggy sighed. “You’ve got the hang of it already.”

  “This is good?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  More confident, Laurence kneaded Peggy’s tanned shoulders, moving inwards towards the neck.

  Peggy’s smile broadened as the minutes passed. Laurence rubbed down her back slowly, pushing with her fingers, searching for tightness. She reached the strap of Peggy’s bikini top.

  “I can remove this?”

  “Okay, why not,” Peggy said after a pause.

  The girl unclipped the top and let the straps dangle down on either side of the chair. She moved her hands up and down the length of Peggy’s back, pushing with the heels of her hands.

  “That’s nice,” Peggy murmured. Her eyes were closed.

  “Thank you.”

  Laurence finally arrived at the waistband of Peggy’s bikini bottoms. She snapped them playfully.

  “Hey!” The brunette’s eyes opened. “I was almost asleep!”

  The girl laughed.

  “And now my ass is tense,” Peggy added as a muttered aside.

  Laurence gently pressed the heels of her hands into Peggy’s rump. The older woman inhaled softly.

  “This makes it better, maybe?”

  Peggy did not respond.

  “Is it okay?”

  “Sure.” Peggy tried to break the tension, joking: “I always charged double for this at the spa.”

  This time it was the girl who did not reply. She moved the heels of her hands in little circles, watching Peggy’s round firm butt jiggle in response.

  At length, she slid her hands down to the older woman’s legs.

  “Your body is very nice,” Laurence said in a soft even tone.

  “Thank you,” Peggy replied, trying to keep a quaver out of her voice.

  “You get many compliments?” The girl squeezed Peggy’s upper thighs, sliding her hands down and up again.

  “Compliments? No, not really. I guess.”

  “That’s a pity.” Laurence casually slid her thumbs deeper and deeper into the space where Peggy’s thighs touched. “In France, people always tell you when your body looks fantastic. Men, and women too.”

  Peggy did not respond. She began breathing harder. Laurence gently pulled at the legs to spread them a bit. Peggy did.

  At that moment, YuLing ran into the patio area, waving a phone.

  The women both jumped. Laurence removed her hands and sat up. Peggy raised her shoulders, remembered her top was off, and awkwardly lowered herself again.

  “Phone call,” YuLing said. She smiled as if she saw this scene ever day. Turning, the housekeeper departed.

  “Hello?” Peggy said into the phone. She set her chin on the chair. “What?”

  After a while, the brunette walked over to Laurence, who had returned to her seat at the table. Peggy had reattached her bikini top.

  “Sorry about that,” Peggy said.

  “No problem. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. That was a lawyer I’ve hired in Canada. He wanted to know if I’d be up tonight. Seems there’s a tax thing to take care of, and the deadline’s eight AM tomorrow. He can work late on it but he’ll have to fax it to me and I’ll need to fax it back with signature pronto. Et cetera.”

  “He will send it to the fax machine in the office?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does it have toner?”

  Peggy blinked. “I don’t know. I didn’t think of that.”

  “I will check.” Laurence stood and walked into the house, in her panties.

  She returned after a short time. “There is toner, and I checked the paper also. The phone line is connected. It seems to be fine.”

  “Great.” Peggy was sitting in her usual chair. She downed the last of her second drink. “Look at this!” Grinning, she twisted her hourglass hips at the girl. Peggy had used imagination, a rubber band and two paper clips to attach her phone to the side of her bikini bottom.

  “That is comfortable?” Laurence sat.

  “Comfortable enough.”

  “It is a good invention.” The girl frowned. “Do you know the time?”

  Twisting her body, Peggy glanced at her phone’s screen. “About six-forty. Why?”

  “I wanted to swim.” She turned her head and stared at the ocean.

  “You’re going back to the hostel?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, you have little time. Do you need to be gone by seven?”

  Laurence nodded.

  “As long as you’re not too long, it’ll be fine.”

  The blonde looked back at Peggy. “I feel like, I must swim hard. I have all this…” Laurence made a frustrated face and flicked her fingers, mimicking someone having a fit. “…Inside of me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I do not know if
there is enough time.”

  Peggy said nothing. After a couple of minutes, the girl jumped up. She smiled. “Will you come?”

  Much later, at the water’s edge, Peggy stared out anxiously. She shielded her eyes from the setting sun. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Peggy tried shouting Laurence’s name, but the surf was too loud.

  After an endless wait, she saw a silhouetted form slowly rise out of the ocean. Laurence. The girl pulled her wet hair from her face and shouted something as she approached.

  “What?” Peggy yelled back.

  Laurence came closer and closer. Finally, when she was only feet from Peggy, the girl said: “I’m sorry I was so long!”

  Peggy studied her. The French girl eyes were bright. She huffed and puffed, having pushed herself through what had clearly been a workout. Her smile illuminated her face as if a light shone behind it; this was the only time when the girl appeared completely happy. Peggy smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

  Laurence laughed. She threw her head back and began twisting seawater out of her long blonde hair.

  Peggy glanced down. The white panties had turned translucent with the soak. The girl’s blonde bush showed through.

  When the older woman finally raised her eyes, she saw Laurence smiling at her. “Yes?” the girl said in a teasing way.

  “Uh. Yeah. You know, it’s nearly eight. You’d better hurry—can you still make the bus?

  The girl shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “I can drive you.”

  “If you wish. I don’t want to impose.”

  “No, you’re not. But if you want to go back…”

  “It does not matter. I only do not wish to be a burden.”

  “You’re no burden!”

  Laurence laughed again, still giddy with her swim. “Then, maybe I stay one more night. But I go back tomorrow, definitely, and stop… what do you say, ‘mooch?’”

  “‘Mooching.’ And you’re not. C’mon, let’s get you inside.” They turned and walked to the house. Peggy touched her phone’s screen. “I’m ordering two pizzas for dinner. One white pizza with mushrooms and one pepperoni. I was waiting to hit the order button until you got back. If you got back. Does that work for you?”

  “Thank you, yes,” the girl said. She skipped over sand in the dim light. “I swam to the raft.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes.” Laurence sighed dreamily. “The raft is not so far.”

  “I dunno. You were out there a while.”

  “I did not stop. I swam further than the raft. Much further.”

  Peggy stared. “Just how far out did you go?”

  “I do not know. I almost…”

  “What?”

  Laurence said no more. They ascended the steps to the patio.

  Upstairs, they faced each other in the hall—Peggy in her bikini, Laurence in her panties. The girl held her jeans and shirt in one hand.

  “Here we are again,” Peggy said.

  “Yes.” The girl smiled. She brushed damp hair over her ear.

  “Getting to be a habit,” the older woman said after an awkward pause.

  “Shall I put my clothes in the washing machine?”

  Peggy looked at her guest’s face. Laurence had a wicked smirk. “That’s okay,” Peggy replied. “I’ll do it.”

  Keeping her eyes on her employer’s eyes, the girl pushed her wet panties down her hips. They slid down onto the carpet. She stepped out of them, picked them up, and dangled them over the bundle of clothes in her hand, still looking into Peggy’s eyes.

  “C’mon,” the brunette said after a long pause. She laughed.

  Laurence dropped the panties and rolled her clothes into a tight bundle. Naked, she affected a solemn, military stance. She handed the bundle to Peggy, who accepted it.

  “May I hug you?” the girl asked.

  After another pause, Peggy answered: “Sure.”

  Laurence stepped forward and embraced, as she had the night before. This time however, she pulled her arms tighter, squashing her naked body into Peggy’s. Setting her face on Peggy’s shoulder, she began to rub her employer’s back, gently. “Not very good massage, no?” the girl said.

  Peggy did not reply. With her free hand she reciprocated, sliding her palm up and down Laurence’s bare back.

  They remained that way for minutes. Not a word was spoken. One of the girl’s hands snaked up under Peggy’s hair. Her fingers slid into the base of the thick black locks, rubbing. The older woman’s eyes fluttered shut. Laurence pulled her chin in, her warm mouth pushing against the crook of Peggy’s neck.

  The doorbell rang, startling them both. The French girl jumped back.

  Peggy made a face. “Pizza.”

  “Ah.” Laurence nodded, then smiled. “Perhaps I should get it?” She twisted her naked form into an arms-spread-wide “hello” pose.

  “Good idea. I think the guy would say it’s on the house.”

  The girl laughed.

  “I’ll get it,” Peggy said.

  When she entered the kitchen carrying pizza boxes she found Laurence wearing the robe the girl had been in that morning.

  “Hey,” the host said. “Want to eat in the living room? We can watch some TV.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Bring some plates and napkins, and whatever you want to drink.”

  Later, after they had eaten their fill and watched an episode of Talk Soup (Laurence: “So funny!”) and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (“These are real women?”), Peggy turned off the television. She and Laurence sat on the big couch, enjoying the easy silence. Without looking, Peggy’s hand slid across the cushions toward Laurence; the girl reached and touched it. They held hands, each moving her fingers slowly over the other’s.

  “I can relate to some of those Real Housewives, you know?” Peggy said finally.

  Laurence turned to her, puzzled. “How?”

  “They just seem…” Peggy hesitated. “Trapped. I guess that’s the right word. They have all this stuff…”

  “Trapped?”

  “Yeah. Like a gilded cage. You know?”

  The girl studied her closely. “You are serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Peggy… do you have children?”

  The woman looked down. “No.”

  “You have a job?”

  “No.”

  “And no husband?”

  “I think you know the answer to that one. To all of them, actually.”

  Laurence had become very intense. “Peggy, you are free. How can you say you are like a trapped person?”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Because I do not understand. You’re more free than… anyone.”

  Peggy looked down again. After a moment, she replied: “I just never… I don’t know. When I was younger, your age, I had ideas about being a great masseuse. And that didn’t work out. Then I tried acting—did I ever tell you that?”

  Laurence shook her head.

  “That’s why I changed my name. And that didn’t work out. And then I got married, and that didn’t work out, either. I don’t know, I just…”

  The French girl waited.

  “I feel like… At one time, I was ready to take over the world and be reckless and crazy and nothing would stop me. Now, I’m a single woman living in a big house and… I feel the exact opposite of reckless and crazy. I feel like anything can stop me.”

  Peggy seemed to have withdrawn into herself. Laurence slid closer to her. She squeezed her hand. “You are the same you. This person who was wild and confident, she loved life, yes?”

  Peggy nodded.

  “Life is still out there,” Laurence said. She gestured to the window. “All you must do is go. It will find you, and you will feel this again.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Peggy smiled and squeezed back. “You’re so young and beautiful. You have everything to live for.”

  This statement seemed to throw Laurence for a moment. The
n she recovered, and smiled. “You are beautiful, also.”

  Peggy looked down again. When she finally turned back to Laurence, the girl was staring at her body. Peggy still wore her bikini.

  “Always, I wanted this.” The girl nodded at Peggy’s figure.

  “Huh?”

  “I have no…” The girl sighed. She withdrew her hand from Peggy’s and made a cupping-breasts gesture. “I am not curvy.”

  “Are you crazy? I always wanted to look like you. Slim and athletic—there are way, way more girls who want to look like you than like me.”

  Laurence smiled. “But you are attractive.”

  “You’re attractive, too.”

  The blonde slid closer. “But you are sexy.”

  Peggy stared at the girl’s lips. “You’re sexy, too.”

  Laurence moved no closer. She waited. After a moment, Peggy turned her body, the sofa cushions squeaking as her bare legs slid over the leather. Her face approached Laurence’s.

  And then Peggy’s phone rang.

  They stared at each other, frozen, their noses an inch apart.

  “The lawyer, with the fax?” Laurence finally asked.

  “Naturally.” Peggy made a sound of exasperation, leaning back and grabbing her phone from its makeshift holster on her hip. “Hello!”

  Almost an hour later, Peggy pressed the “Send” button on the office’s fax machine. It buzzed and began eating pages of documents that sat in its feeder.

  “Finally,” Peggy said.

  At her side, Laurence grinned. “Taxes are important.”

  “No kidding. The government has the power to take everything away from you, if you make a mistake.”

  The girl chuckled. “And then, we are out on the street.”

  Peggy laughed with her. “If anybody’s gonna repossess my stuff, I’d rather it be Philippe.”

  Laurence’s laughter died on her lips. A strange hard light blazed in her eyes.

  “Oh, shit,” Peggy said. “Hey. I’m sorry. I’m really…”

  “Good night.” The French girl turned and walked to her room. Peggy heard the door close.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, when Laurence stepped into the hall, she found her freshly laundered clothes folded neatly on the floor in front of her.

  The two women worked almost in silence the entire day, only speaking to each other when necessary. At five o’clock sharp, Peggy looked at Laurence directly for the first time. “Are you coming to the pool?”