Guns 'n' Rose (25 page)

Les gave a shrug. ‘Nothing in particular. Why?'

‘That band I was talking about earlier. They're called Zipper Mushrooms. They're playing over at the Broadwater Resort, not far from that little church we stopped at. We'll go over for sure. I'll get the limo.'

‘Righto.'

‘And we'll have a look at all the old motorbikes. It'll be a good day, Les. I promise you.'

‘Sounds good to me,' said Les, taking another sip of his Jack Daniels.

Jimmy turned away to look at the people in the restaurant. Les stared down at the floor and thought about some of the things Jimmy had just said. Not particularly liking bikies but still doing business with
them, that was fair enough. He was pulling some sort of scam right now. But what was it that drunken ratbag said down the beach earlier in the morning? Something about the men with fire in their feet had something to do with Jimmy's mother dying, or some bloody thing. Maybe he was talking about this mob of bikies the Tarheels with hobnail boots dragging on the ground. Maybe Jimmy's mother was an old bikie moll. It could have been drugs. She died from an overdose and they gave it to her. Maybe they pack-raped her right in front of Jimmy when he was very young. Whatever the answer was, there was no love lost between Jimmy and that particular bikie gang. Les swirled the ice round in his glass while a lot of thoughts started swirling around in his head. Jimmy turned round and tapped him vigorously on the shoulder.

‘Hey, Les, you're not going to believe who's here.'

‘Sorry. What was that?' said Les.

‘Over there in the corner, and she knows we're here, too. Shit, she's coming over.'

Les was about to ask Jimmy what he was talking about, when who should sweep into the bar looking very foxy in a tight, blue floral dress tied behind her shoulders, wearing high heels, no stockings and showing plenty of muscle-toned, brown skin but Aunty Megan.

‘Hello, Jimmy,' she said excitedly. ‘How are you, sweetheart?'

‘Real good thanks, Megan. How are you?'

‘Great. Especially now that I've seen you.' Megan turned to Norton and smiled. ‘Hello, Les. How are you?'

‘Pretty good thanks, Megan,' replied Les, raising his glass. ‘Nice to see you again.' Christ, thought Les, last time I saw her she wouldn't piss on me. Now it's all smiles and hellos. Either she's very forgiving or more than a little schizophrenic.

‘So what's happening, Megan, you little fox?' said Jimmy, giving her a quick tickle behind the split in her dress.

‘What's happening?' Megan plonked herself down on the stool next to Jimmy. ‘Paula and I are stuck with the two most boring pricks God ever put breath into.'

‘Even more boring than me and Les?'

Megan placed her hand on Jimmy's knee. ‘They're with all these other suits up from Adelaide on a business conference. Toilet duck or cat food or something. We met them at the resort and they took us out to dinner. Now they want to take us to the disco. Oh God.'

‘Sounds like a good night,' said Jimmy, taking a delicate sip of his drink. ‘Half your luck.'

Megan moved closer to Jimmy and started drooling over him as if she wanted to eat him on the spot. ‘You're a proper bastard, Jimmy. You know that, don't you?'

‘So people keep telling me.' Jimmy looked right into Megan's eyes. ‘How long do you reckon it would take for you to dump these two biro heads and get back to my place for a bit of… linedancing?'

Megan looked at her watch. ‘Finish your drinks, then leave. And we'll be knocking on your door in about ten minutes. And have a nice cool drink waiting for me, gorgeous. I'm going to need it after such a long walk round.'

Jimmy blew her a kiss from about a foot away that almost steamed off Megan's lipstick. ‘One tall, cool drink for one tall, hot woman coming up.'

‘Gggrrrhhh.' Megan snarled at Jimmy like a hungry lioness, then went back to her table.

‘Well, how about that?' said Jimmy. ‘My nude linedancing partner Megan. And all hot to trot again.'

‘Yeah,' said Norton. ‘I get the feeling she fancies you a bit.'

‘You don't blame her, do you?' winked Jimmy.

‘So what's the story?'

‘What's the story? The story is. We discreetly finish our drinks like gentlemen. Then stroll home in a leisurely manner, also like gentlemen, and await the arrival of the ladies. Then I'll tip about two thimbles full of drink down Megan's throat and she'll be all over me like a lava flow. Only ten times hotter.'

‘And what do I do with the lovely Paula?'

‘Paula?' Jimmy got to the last of his Jack Daniels. ‘That's your business, Les, not mine. Entertain her in the loungeroom. Recite Plato. Discuss the galactic movements of the constellations into the next millennium. Suck her on her big, wet lamington, then fuck that small piece of brain that accidentally got wedged in her head out of her on the kitchen table for all I care. I honestly don't give a shit, because I'm going to be too busy doing the giant nasty with Aunty Megan.'

Les reflected into his drink for a second or two. ‘Jimmy, exactly what are you in the nick for? It's not just for pot, is it?'

Jimmy looked directly at Norton. ‘Outboard motors.'

‘Outboard motors. What do you mean, outboard motors?'

‘I arranged for a bloke to pick up some outboard motors I got hold of.'

‘And what went wrong?'

‘I hadn't arranged for the bloke with the bloke picking up the outboard motors to be an undercover cop. I got six months.'

Les was tempted to laugh, only he was taken aback by Jimmy's blunt and direct honesty. ‘That's okay. At least I know you're not a rotten, low drug dealer.'

‘Yeah. I'd like to see the look on your face if I pulled out a big, juicy bag of mull. Come on, let's finish our drinks and go rendezvous with the two lovelies.'

Jimmy led Norton all the way on the short walk home, scampering along like Brer Rabbit in the briar patch. And half his luck, too, thought Les. Megan looked hornier and fitter than ever in her floral dress. Les didn't know what to do about Paula. He was starting to feel a bit tired and he wasn't overenthusiastic about the whole thing, and Les doubted if he rang any of Paula's bells either. Just be polite, have a drink, listen to some music or watch a bit of TV, then hit the sack. She could get a taxi home with Megan after Megan had finished playing out whatever sexual fantasies she had in mind with young Jimmy. Next thing Les opened the front door and they were in the kitchen.

Jimmy got four Bacardis together and put them on the coffee table in the loungeroom. He dimmed the lights, drew the curtain back for a view over the swimming pool and the backyard, put the first tape he found
in the stereo and, with ‘Two More Bottles of Wine' by Emmy Lou Harris rolling softly out the speakers, everything was set up just fine. Les took a couple of sips of OJ and minutes later there was a knock on the door. Jimmy got up and with a bit of hoo-ha and drunken laughter led Megan and Paula into the loungeroom. Paula was pissed again, only she was wearing a blue shirt over a black mini-dress, black stockings and didn't look too bad. Just drunk.

She gave Norton a boozy smile as she came down the steps. ‘Hello, Les.'

‘Hello, Paula. How was the dinner?'

‘Ohh, about as ordinary as it gets.'

‘The food no good?'

‘No. The food was fantastic. The company…' Paula made a thumbs-down gesture.

‘Yeah, well you never know who you're going to meet these days, do you?'

‘Come on, make yourself comfortable. Grab a drink.' Jimmy pointed to the Bacardis. Megan took one and sat down on the lounge next to Jimmy. Paula took another and sat down in a loungechair on the opposite side of the room to Les. ‘So how did you manage to brush the two Wallies?'

‘Just told them we were going to the loo,' said Megan. ‘Then did a quick fade out the door and left them with the bill. Christ! Talk about boring. The one Paula was with was that dense light bent around him. The meal and the drinks were lovely, though.'

‘Yeah, how come we haven't eaten there yet?' asked Les. ‘We've been nearly everywhere else and that's just round the corner.'

‘I've been saving that one up,' said Jimmy. ‘Just like I've been saving myself for you, Megan. You filthy, fiendish, femme fatale.'

‘Bastard,' hissed Megan. She took a huge slurp of Bacardi, then put her glass down and started attacking Jimmy on the spot.

Well, I reckon it's only a matter of time now, thought Les, taking another sip of Bacardi. Minutes at the most. And doesn't time fly when two horny people are having fun? It was closer to seconds when in the soft light Les saw Jimmy take Megan by the hand and they both disappeared, laughing and giggling, down the stairs; leaving Les alone with Paula who didn't seem in the least perturbed. The music played on and not a word passed between them. The only thing Les could think was that it would be more comfortable sitting on the lounge than where he was; it faced the speakers and he could put his feet up on the coffee table. Les took his drink and changed seats. Paula still looked half okay in the soft light, but she was half full of drink and after the low rap Jimmy put on her, Les wasn't all that keen on trying to take her in a passionate embrace. Still, she was probably a good scout underneath or, at least, when she was sober, and it costs nothing to be polite. Les decided he had to say something.

‘So what sort of music do you like, Paula?' asked Les as ‘Men' by Gina Jeffreys bopped lightly through the stereo.

‘Ohh, I reckon this'll do.'

‘That's very good, Paula.' Les took a belt of Bacardi. ‘Any sort of movies you prefer?'

‘Ohh, I reckon Elvis Presley movies are all right.'

‘Elvis Presley? Unreal, Paula, I'm impressed. Do you watch much TV?'

Paula shook her head. ‘No. But I like “Star Trek”.'

“‘Star Trek”?'

‘Yeah, I always watch “Star Trek”. It's me favourite show.'

‘You're a trekkie, Paula?'

‘Bloody oath!'

‘So am I.'

‘You? Bullshit!'

‘Hey, Paula.' Les made the Vulcan salute. ‘Live long and prosper, baby. I went to the convention at Darling Harbour.'

‘Onya, Les.'

‘Who do you reckon's the coolest dude in Star Fleet Command, Paula?'

‘Ohh, DATA. No risk. He's just one big groove.'

‘Right on, Paula. Good one, mate.'

‘Tell me, Les. Who do you reckon are the lowest dropkicks in the galaxy? The Borg? Or the Kadasians in those 1950s zoot suits with the big shoulder pads?'

‘Ohh, no contest,' said Les, making a definitive gesture. ‘The Kadasians. They're two-faced, lying bastards. I watched them playing poker with Captain Picard and Lieutenant Worf once and they never stopped cheating all night. And this was on the Holodeck with Dr Crusher bringing them drinks and nibblies. The swines.'

‘Beauty, Les,' said Paula. ‘I knew there was something good about you.'

‘Thanks, Counsellor Troi. I knew you'd pick up my vibe sooner or later.'

Well, there you go, thought Norton. You shouldn't go judging people by appearances. Paula's a trekkie. There's generally some good in all of us. Suddenly Paula seemed to take on a whole new demeanour; her face got prettier, her mini-dress got shorter, her legs got more shapely and the black stockings got blacker. Just as suddenly, Paula got up and sat down on the lounge next to Les.

‘You know, Les,' she said, ‘I was thinking of going to a fancy dress party once dressed as Counsellor Troi.'

With those maracas you'd sure take out the door prize if they had one, thought Norton. ‘Yeah, you'd look a bit like Counsellor Troi if you put some pig-tails in your hair. It's certainly black and shiny enough.'

‘Thanks, Les.' Paula took a good sip of Bacardi. ‘What about you, Les? If you had to go to a party dressed as someone out of “Star Trek”, who would you go as?'

‘Me? Well, Paula, being an urbane, debonair, cool sort of swinger, I'd paint my face off-white and go as DATA. Me and DATA are like peas in a pod. Birds of a feather.'

Paula pointed to Norton's face. ‘What about the broken nose?'

‘If anyone asked, I'd say he got it trying to put his hand up Counsellor Troi's dress.'

‘Ooh! Dirty little DATA.'

‘What do you reckon'd happen, Paula, if DATA tried to put his dirty android hand on Counsellor Troi's old ring of Saturn, do you reckon he'd get his nose broken?'

Paula smiled and shook her head. ‘No, I don't reckon he would.'

‘Yeah, good old DATA,' Les smiled back. ‘You can't help but like him, can you?'

That'll do me, thought Norton. He reached over and put his right arm around Paula's waist. She moved into him and Les took her in a passionate Vulcan embrace, and after giving her a long, lingering kiss was now seriously thinking of doing all sorts of dirty Vulcan things with her. Paula's mouth was warm, moist and sweet and in no time her tongue was out and they were nibbling away at each other's lips. Les started kissing Paula's ears and neck and Paula started doing much the same to Norton. Les undid the front of her shirt, slipped his hand under her white bra strap then eased one massive boob out and started kissing it and licking and sucking the nipple till it swelled up and stuck out like a big, ripe purple grape. Paula started to undo Norton's shirt and stick her fingers beneath his belt as Les slipped her other boob out and started kissing that one too. For her size Paula was in pretty good shape. She wasn't fat at all. Just big. A big, old healthy girl. Les ran his hand up under Paula's dress between her legs and gave her ted a few gentle strokes. Paula spread her legs slightly and Les could feel it start to swell and get moist.

‘What do you reckon, Counsellor Troi?'panted Les. ‘Here? The holodeck? Or shall I patch through to transporter room two and get us beamed into my bedroom?'