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Authors: J A Scooter
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disastrous night - Bob’s friend.”
“Oh, yes.” Her voice
seemed to grow warm and Peter wanted to believe her eyes had softened as she
thought of him but he knew he was fooling himself.
“Bob’s done nothing
but talk of you and your ability as an engineer. I believe The Three
Musketeers, as he labeled you, had some success racing a car. The photographs
on the wall of his office show the success you had with that girl. She
certainly was kissing you as the victorious engineer.” Her voice sounded
steely.
Peter’s heart fell. ‘That
is why she remembers me. Bob’s been talking. That damned photo did not tell the
truth.’ Bravely he mustered the courage to continue. “I know this is short
notice but are you doing anything tonight?”
There was a long
pause and Peter died the death of a thousand cuts - the death of the faint
hearted.
“I'm sorry.” The
answer came at last.
Peter broke into
emotional overload. 'God, at least I tried.'
Then after a long
delay Jennifer continued, “Perhaps some other night...?”
“Thursday night?”
Peter’s words tumbled out. “I’ll pick you up at 7.30. Just wear jeans to be
comfortable, you won’t need to be formal and we’ll eat as well.” Fearing that
if he talked any longer, he would betray what he had in mind Peter quickly
added, “I’ll pick you up,” and, without waiting for a reply, he hung up.
Jennifer looked at
the now dead phone in her hand as she went back over that call. Her mind was in
a whirl. ‘I feel such a bitch putting him through hell like that. Company
policy demands that every officer, forwarding a phone call, states the caller’s
name. I knew it was Peter before I spoke. My heart is pounding so strongly and
I am trembling.
‘All that rubbish
about trying to remember him was just that – rubbish. Every day I have been
praying he’d call. I’ve been so lonely that, even though I believe he’s gay, I
decided that I’d go out with him. If only I could untangle the secrecy that
surrounds him.
‘Fancy pretending
that I have a date tonight when all I have to do is to iron my clothes and then
to wash my hair. I’d willingly swap that for a night with him. Will it be
another Vietnamese meal of Pho? I know men call me the Ice Maiden but, with
Peter, I don’t want to be like that.’
She stopped her
thoughts as she replaced the telephone and dreamily stared out the window. ‘Wonder
what he’s planning for Thursday.’ A smile crept around her lips as she leaned
back in her chair reminiscing before eventually forcing herself to resume work.
Across town, unable
to believe his luck, Peter stared at the wall.
On leaden feet,
Thursday eventually arrived and promptly at 7.30, Peter knocked on Jennifer’s
door.
She swung it open as
if she had been waiting and Peter required all his self-control not to pounce. He
was sure he had said casual wear and he felt a complete fool when she appeared.
Her blouse was all frothy lace from which her neck rose in magnificent splendor
and she seemed to have poured herself into her jeans.
As usual, he was a
complete fool and his opening remark, “It’s not fair,” made her ill at ease.
“What’s not fair?”
Her eyes narrowed in worry.
“Jeans do more for
you than jeans ever do for me.” Peter laughed at the surprise on Jennifer’s
face. “You look beautiful but then,” Peter tried hard to be gallant, “you
always do.”
“You really are a
fool,” she giggled, smacking his arm lightly, but did not protest when Peter
led her by the hand to the BMW Mini Cooper at the curb. “At first I genuinely
believed I had misunderstood the message.”
She was still talking
when Peter opened the driver’s door and handed her the key. “But Peter...”
Peter merely put a
finger to her lips and walked around to get in the passenger’s seat. “No, the
message was right but to escort you I really should go home and change into
white tie and tails.”
Ignoring his comments
Jennifer
“Oh, yes.” Her voice
seemed to grow warm and Peter wanted to believe her eyes had softened as she
thought of him but he knew he was fooling himself.
“Bob’s done nothing
but talk of you and your ability as an engineer. I believe The Three
Musketeers, as he labeled you, had some success racing a car. The photographs
on the wall of his office show the success you had with that girl. She
certainly was kissing you as the victorious engineer.” Her voice sounded
steely.
Peter’s heart fell. ‘That
is why she remembers me. Bob’s been talking. That damned photo did not tell the
truth.’ Bravely he mustered the courage to continue. “I know this is short
notice but are you doing anything tonight?”
There was a long
pause and Peter died the death of a thousand cuts - the death of the faint
hearted.
“I'm sorry.” The
answer came at last.
Peter broke into
emotional overload. 'God, at least I tried.'
Then after a long
delay Jennifer continued, “Perhaps some other night...?”
“Thursday night?”
Peter’s words tumbled out. “I’ll pick you up at 7.30. Just wear jeans to be
comfortable, you won’t need to be formal and we’ll eat as well.” Fearing that
if he talked any longer, he would betray what he had in mind Peter quickly
added, “I’ll pick you up,” and, without waiting for a reply, he hung up.
Jennifer looked at
the now dead phone in her hand as she went back over that call. Her mind was in
a whirl. ‘I feel such a bitch putting him through hell like that. Company
policy demands that every officer, forwarding a phone call, states the caller’s
name. I knew it was Peter before I spoke. My heart is pounding so strongly and
I am trembling.
‘All that rubbish
about trying to remember him was just that – rubbish. Every day I have been
praying he’d call. I’ve been so lonely that, even though I believe he’s gay, I
decided that I’d go out with him. If only I could untangle the secrecy that
surrounds him.
‘Fancy pretending
that I have a date tonight when all I have to do is to iron my clothes and then
to wash my hair. I’d willingly swap that for a night with him. Will it be
another Vietnamese meal of Pho? I know men call me the Ice Maiden but, with
Peter, I don’t want to be like that.’
She stopped her
thoughts as she replaced the telephone and dreamily stared out the window. ‘Wonder
what he’s planning for Thursday.’ A smile crept around her lips as she leaned
back in her chair reminiscing before eventually forcing herself to resume work.
Across town, unable
to believe his luck, Peter stared at the wall.
On leaden feet,
Thursday eventually arrived and promptly at 7.30, Peter knocked on Jennifer’s
door.
She swung it open as
if she had been waiting and Peter required all his self-control not to pounce. He
was sure he had said casual wear and he felt a complete fool when she appeared.
Her blouse was all frothy lace from which her neck rose in magnificent splendor
and she seemed to have poured herself into her jeans.
As usual, he was a
complete fool and his opening remark, “It’s not fair,” made her ill at ease.
“What’s not fair?”
Her eyes narrowed in worry.
“Jeans do more for
you than jeans ever do for me.” Peter laughed at the surprise on Jennifer’s
face. “You look beautiful but then,” Peter tried hard to be gallant, “you
always do.”
“You really are a
fool,” she giggled, smacking his arm lightly, but did not protest when Peter
led her by the hand to the BMW Mini Cooper at the curb. “At first I genuinely
believed I had misunderstood the message.”
She was still talking
when Peter opened the driver’s door and handed her the key. “But Peter...”
Peter merely put a
finger to her lips and walked around to get in the passenger’s seat. “No, the
message was right but to escort you I really should go home and change into
white tie and tails.”
Ignoring his comments
Jennifer
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