And De Fun Don't Done (23 page)

Some time later Norton's heart stopped trying to thump its way out of his chest and he was able to poke his tongue back inside his mouth from where it had been lolling against his cheek. Lori's eyes had gone back to
normal and the lovers were sort of cuddled up against each other with nothing between them except Merv Hughes's moustache.

‘Well, Lori,' said Les, ‘I don't know about you, but I reckon that was pretty bloody good. I'm just about knackered.' Lori kind of mumbled something and moved in a little closer. ‘You know, I don't mean to skite, but do you know the reason I'm such a good root?'

Lori's eyes opened up a little. ‘A good root?' she said evenly. ‘Does that mean, a good screw?'

‘Yeah.' Les could feel Lori looking at him. ‘It's not because I'm so fit, or my star sign, or anything like that. Before I left Australia I studied the Al Bundy Sex Guide.
How To Be a Dynamite Lover and Give Your Wife Multiple Orgasms
.'

Lori stared at Norton for a while, then started to smile as the joke sunk in. After all, she was an American. ‘Les… whatever your name is, if Al Bundy gave Peg one like that just once in every six episodes, she'd get a job, start wearing decent make-up and take up cooking lessons.'

Norton couldn't help but glow a little. ‘You reckon?'

‘I'd guarantee it, Les Or… fair dinkum. Isn't that another one of your weird Australian sayings?'

Norton gave her a nice kiss on the cheek. ‘Yeah. Close enough.'

If either party wanted to avoid sleeping in the wet spot it would have been pretty tricky, the bed was just one big one. Les suggested there was a pool just outside, you weren't supposed to use it after ten, but if they kept quiet they could have a swim. It was unlikely anybody would say anything. Stiff shit if they did. Lori kissed him and said he just kept getting better all the time. The pool wasn't all that lit up, why worry about swimming costumes? So apart from one towel between them they went skinny dipping.

The water in the pool was absolutely delightful and had just the slightest hint of chill about it. They slipped in quietly, kept their voices down, and just swam and duck
dived around, getting all the sweat off them and just freshening up in general; there was still a fair way to go before they'd sober up, however. Les couldn't help but float round at the side of the pool and perv on Lori as she snaked through the water. She had a figure, especially her backside, that would make a Trappist monk start singing in the shower. Before long, Mr Wobbly began to get nasty ideas again. Les floated across and decided to help Lori over the waves. She gave him a quick kiss or two but a toss and shake of her head said no for number two. Yeah, thought Les. Typical yank. All full of piss and wind. However, Lori had to get home. She didn't particularly want to come rolling in at all hours of the morning in front of her sister and the kids, looking like the wreck of the Hesperus. Plus there was an auntie lived there too so a bit of decorum was needed. And lunchtime tomorrow she was going to Orlando for the rest of the week for her work. Not to worry, Les baby. She'd be back Friday. Fair enough, thought Norton, and helped her out of the pool.

Back inside the condo Norton, ever the gentleman, suggested that if Lori didn't want to get her Levis and that all wet she could put his Hawaiian shirt on and he'd throw in the beaut Merv Hughes T-shirt for a souvenir. Lori was stoked. Norton climbed into a pair of shorts and another T-shirt, found a plastic bag in the kitchen for Lori to put her stuff in, and with just her knickers on and Norton's Hawaiian shirt round her they went outside. Sure enough, there was the ever faithful Joey sitting patiently in the limo. He smiled knowingly when he saw them walking over, got out and opened the back door.

‘Still enjoying your stay in Florida, sir?' he said.

‘Yeah,' replied Norton. ‘It's tops. The natives are very friendly.' He turned to Lori.

‘8754 North Ewart,' she said, and got inside.

‘You heard the lady,' said Les. ‘And Joey,' he added quietly, ‘get stuck at as many red lights and caught in as much traffic as you like. Let the meter run right over. You dig?'

‘Like my mother was a shovel,' winked the driver.

Les climbed in and Lori cuddled up to him. Joey was on the ball straight away; it took him nearly fifteen minutes to reverse out the carpark and negotiate the speed humps through the estate. Before long Les and Lori were in a bit of a lover's embrace. Norton was keen to see Lori when she got back from Orlando, she replied that if Les looked on the kitchen table he'd find her phone number. This touched Les and he told Lori that if she didn't give him a decent kiss goodnight, decent enough to last him almost a week, his poor heart would surely break. Lori didn't seem to mind and slipped her tongue inside Norton's mouth. She also didn't mind when Les started rubbing her stomach and boobs, though she did seem to mind when Les started stroking her ted again. But before long it was too late and the washing machine started bubbling over. Next thing, Les had his fly open, her knickers pulled to one side and was easing the evil Mr Wobbly in.

Lori half pushed him away then she gave a little jump and said, ‘Oowahh!'

8754 North Ewart was a nice white single-storey house with two palm trees, a light above the verandah out the front and a car in the driveway. Joey eased up and turned off the lights. Les and Lori made their last goodbyes; even if she did heartily enjoy the ride home she seemed a little self-conscious, so Les didn't have to walk her to the door. However, he waited in the car till she was safe inside, blew her a kiss and got a wave back, then she was gone.

‘Righto. Home, James,' yawned Norton. ‘And don't spare the horses. Just wake me when you get there. I'm rooted.'

Joey caught Norton's eye in the rear vision mirror and smiled. ‘Does that mean you're fucked, buddy?'

‘You better fuckin' believe it, mate,' answered Norton.

Les was half asleep when they rocked gently to a halt outside the condo; before he knew it Joey had the back door open. Les blinked at the soft lights around him, gave Joey another fifty dollars, patted him on the shoulder and thanked the driver for looking after him. Joey looked at the money and shook his head.

‘Buddy, before you go, do you mind if I just shake your hand?'

‘No. Not at all,' smiled Les. ‘I reckon I deserve something for tonight's effort.'

Back in the condo, Les managed to clean his teeth and have a leak without falling head first into the bowl, then get his clothes off and flop onto the bed. The sun looked like it was coming up and for some odd reason Les started wondering what time it was back in Australia. Would he be getting up at midday or just before midnight? Shit, I don't know, he mumbled to himself. Christ! What a way to treat your body. Or your body clock, or whatever. As he drifted off, a tiny whiff of Lori's perfume rose up from the sheets. Yeah, what a way. Heh, heh!

Despite the gallons of booze he'd poured down his throat, Norton didn't feel all that bad when he surfaced around noon. Must have been all that ‘exercise' last night, he smiled to himself as he cleaned his teeth. I've sweated all the toxins out of me. He still wasn't feeling one hundred per cent as he fiddled around in the kitchen making a cup of coffee and drinking orange juice and figured the best way to get rid of any remaining cobwebs could be a splash around in the pool. He got a towel and stepped out the back door into the customary, open-air, Florida sauna bath.

There were only two other people in the pool, a woman doing some sort of aquarobics at the shallow end and a man on a banana chair puffing a cigar while he read a magazine. Les nodded something to him then quietly dived in and started swimming around. It wasn't the same without Lori and it wasn't all that cool, but it was good enough. Christ! What a funny old night, Les smiled to himself as he started doing a few lazy laps. Was that Lori a fit woman or what? And what about poor, silly Hank? Even if I did feel crook today I don't think there's any way I could be as crook as him. Though I might put Club BandBox on hold for the rest of my stay here. That's if there's anything left of the place.

After a while he towelled off, went back inside and drank the rest of his orange juice. That's what he was going to need, he mused, as he tossed the empty container in the kitchen-tidy. That and a good feed of home-cooked vegetables. If he remembered right when he was driving out with Hank there was a small shopping centre not that far away. A pedal up on the bike would get rid of any remaining toxins, plus he was also going to need some more of those funny little pieces of green paper everyone seemed to love so much in America. He got into the same old training gear he'd worn when he went riding on the beach with Hank, got his bike from the verandah and with his backpack on turned right out the front of the estate and set off for the shopping centre.

Belting along the dead flat footpath was a piece of piss, just punishingly hot, that was all. Again there were no pedestrians. Apart from the cars whizzing along the road, the only other sign of life Les spotted was a girl jogging with a Walkman, whom he almost barrelled as she turned around. The shopping centre was about three miles from the estate; a bank and a garage on one corner and a medium size supermarket complex set in a parking area on the other. Despite walking in, dripping with sweat, Les was able to cash some more traveller's cheques without any drama, even get a pleasant smile from the girl over his accent. After pedalling like a maniac through a break in the traffic, Les made it safely to the other corner, where there was a post office, hairdresser's, travel agency and a number of other shops set round the supermarket, and of all things an Amish restaurant. There was a soft-drink machine just inside the supermarket; Norton decided to get a can of 7-Up and check out the punters before he did the rest of his shopping.

There were a few people coming and going, or getting in and out of cars, but the Amish were the best. They were a funny-looking lot. Old men with quaker beards, wearing black hats, white shirts and black pants held up by old-fashioned braces, riding round on these three-wheel bikes. The women wore crinoline dresses and aprons with
what looked like coffee filters on their heads, and not a trace of make-up. They seemed friendly enough, though; if Les made eye contact he'd get a bit of a smile and he'd smile back. Les was contentedly slurping on his soft drink when the fattest, ugliest bloke Les had ever seen in his life pulled up in a car and climbed out. He had the usual Elmer Fudd cap stuck on his head and wore a massive pair of grey pants held up with braces. His paunch was that big it almost dragged on the ground in front of him and he had to swing his arms and his paunch from side to side in a kind of rhythm so he could walk. He reminded Les of the bloke in the Monty Python film, who blows up in the French restaurant. Only this bloke wasn't comical. He was that grotesquely fat he almost made Norton sick. With almost a morbid fascination Les watched him enter the supermarket, then come back out with some groceries and drive off. Shaking his head almost with disbelief, Les watched the car disappear, then got his orange juice, vegies and a few other odds and ends, slung his backpack on and pedalled back to the flat. One of the first things he did when he got there was have another swim; it seemed hotter and more humid than ever and if Les wasn't mistaken another cloud build-up was coming in from the Gulf of Mexico.

A feed of fresh vegetables might have been a good idea, but cooking them wasn't. Five minutes after he'd got the electric stove going and the water boiling, the flat was like an oven and Les was almost tempted to turn the air- conditioner on. He decided to tough it out. The vegetables were a disappointment too. They looked alright in the shop but they tasted flat and nowhere near as good as the ones at home. However, after dolloping them with butter and some yellow sauce called Louisiana Cajun Dressing, Les was able to spice them up a bit and get them down with a few glasses of orange juice. After he'd cleaned up Les made a cup of coffee and thought about what he should do and how he should organise himself now that he'd finally got rid of Hank the wank. A phone call to Laverne to thank her and tell her what was going
on might be a good idea. Norton found the number near the phone and dialled. A man's voice with another strong New York accent answered at the other end.

‘Hullo?'

‘Yes. Could I speak to Laverne please?'

The voice hesitated. ‘Who's this?'

‘It's Les. The Australian bloke. I'm staying out at the flat… the condo.'

The voice sounded a bit suspicious. ‘Hang on. I'll go get her.'

A few moments later a woman answered. She sounded just as wary as the man.

‘Hullo? Who's this?'

‘Hello, Laverne? It's Les over at the condo.'

‘Oh Les.' Laverne gave a bit of a laugh. ‘Ricco couldn't understand what you were saying. How are you doing?' ‘I'm okay. I just wanted to ring and let you know I've moved in and all that. It's terrific. Thanks a lot.'

‘Oh don't worry about it. You're doing me a favour keeping an eye on the place. Just keep Hank out. When did you last see the jerk? Is there something wrong with the air-conditioning there?'

‘No. It's as good as gold. But… that's another reason I rang you, Laverne. I sort of… told Hank to piss off last night.'

‘Oh.' Laverne seemed to pause for a moment. ‘I thought something like this might happen.'

‘Yeah. I don't want to sound rude or anything, Laverne. But he's got to be the greatest wombat I've ever met in my life.'

‘You noticed, huh!'

‘Noticed? Christ!'

‘So hey, are you alright? Have you got enough food? We'd better come over.' For all her brashness, Laverne sounded genuinely concerned about Norton's wellbeing.

‘No. I'm okay. I got a bike. I can get around alright.'

‘A bike? In this heat. My God, you need a car.'