Karie finest

Chapter eight

Liza and the Time-Stow

(Fifteen years earlier…)

When Liza Mona graduated from her Brooklyn high school, she found herself drawn to the neon lights of Las Vegas like a moth to a flame.

She and friend Sherrie soon landed auditions as back-up dancers for a musical show.

Beanpole-thin Sherrie got hired. Poor Liza got handed a business card, referring her to Madam Delilah’s ‘Cowgirl’ Ranch.

The Madam took one look at Liza’s wavy hair, brown eyes, and pouting lips, and knew she had struck gold in this generously endowed Italian beauty.

Sherrie and Liza, each quite naïve, were delighted to have found work so quickly. Delilah had already tutored many girls in the fine art of commercial seduction. But in Liza, she believed she had found a student who took the lessons seriously, and recognized her body as the merchandise and inventory. Over the years, girls came and went at Delilah’s, but Liza Mona stayed on, developing a sizable clientele.

Liza took great pride in her appearance, staying perpetually manicured, pedicured, waxed, bleached and botoxed. She also maintained a tight body through gym workouts, and a healthy diet.

In her spare time, she took business classes, hoping someday to buy madam Delilah’s ranch. That day came when Liza received a sizable inheritance from her father. Delilah retired to Palm Beach. After comparing business models, Liza decided on the rental plan. A bartender named Cliff leased the bar and grill, the girls rented rooms. There was also a cashier to take care of the girl’s transactions.

At the back of the property was an old riding arena and corrals with stables, which Liza rented to a Mr. Wilber Rose. Wilber renovated the structures and held events on the weekends. Those events benefited the bar and the girls.

He kept some of his gentler horses in the corral for the girls to ride. Naturally he was their riding instructor. One day a couple of realtors stopped by the ranch for celebratory drinks after having sold the adjacent land to a Frenchman they never met in person.

Next came the architect, Frank Degas, whose business card read ‘I design anything from temples to teepees.’ This time he was planning a pueblo style home. Not an authentic straw and mud, just a modern-style, metal framing and stucco version.
Then came the contractors and their crews. On payday Fridays, they treated themselves to the delights offered at Cowgirl Ranch. Liza, the bartender, and all the girls, took full advantage, knowing this would all be missed when the project was completed. Meanwhile, as construction began, Bobby Laser stopped by to ask Liza if she wanted to rent him the old building at the back corner, next to the Frenchman’s property.

“Certainly,” came the answer. The madam had long forgotten about the structure. ”I won’t pay for any repairs or renovation though; it’s all you,” she said.

Bobby liked the deal and began creating a high-tech science lab, with satellite dishes and gear with hard-to-pronounce names.

Tuesdays were Liza Mona’s days off. This one was particularly quiet, so she decided to take her favorite horse ‘Buddy’ -the bay with the white-blaze face, out for a ride.

She wore a sleeveless blue and white embroidered crop-top, along with low-riding hip hugger jeans. This really showed off her tight little tummy, and a western straw hat completed the outfit.

Liza gathered a basket of carrots for the horses. That treat always brought them to the fence. She got a rope halter on Buddy, led him to a stall. Then she put on a grooming jacket to keep the loose horse-hair off her clothing while she currycombed and brushed.

Wilber made sure the horse’s manes and tails were trimmed and his hooves clean and shod. Liza got the saddle pad and blanket onto Buddy’s back, threw the saddle on, and cinched it up. She got his bridle out of the tack room and secured the bit in his mouth and pulled the bridle over his ears. He immediately started noisily rolling the bit roller with his tongue.

She checked the cinch again tugging it tight before she mounted. Buddy, excited to be going somewhere began his crow hop dance. The best way to control that was to take a couple laps around the arena in a slow cantor. After several laps, Buddy settled into an easy gait, and Liza headed him down the trail by the road. When they passed the Frenchman’s railing fence, she saw the driveway wasn’t gated yet, nor had the landscaping been started. The new white-stucco home looked lonely and vacant.

She said to Buddy, “Let’s have a look around,” as she reined him into the driveway. They were almost to the house when the front door opened, and out walked a man wearing aviator glasses, with a tattooed face, scarred in scrimshaw design.

He also had earlobes stretched around silver ornaments the size of silver dollars. His entire appearance commanded attention. Sleeves carefully folded half up his forearms revealed copper-inked reptilian tats covering his arms, hands and curved claws. He wore pressed blue jeans and his boots looked expensive.

With a French accent, he spoke,
“Welcome to my abode, Liza Mona. Did you and this fine steed come to snoop?”

With a guilty little smile she replied, “Yes- and how is it you know my name?”

“That’s easy! Your picture is on the billboard out by the highway. I am happy to give you a guided tour of my humble home, if you choose to do so.”

He was a pleasant enough gentleman, although his appearance was strange- or was it French exotic?

Liza gushed, “Oh yes! I’ve heard so much about your house from all the workmen.”

With a slight dipping bow, he said, “I am Germaine Du Boise. May I tether your steed?”

Charmed, Liza dismounted, and handed him the reins. Germaine continued, “I’ll get a him a bucket of water. The architect left buckets and halters for ambiance.” Then he opened the garage door with a flick of his wrist, left and returned with a bucket of fresh water.

“There- we have your horse settled, now let’s look at my domicile,” he said, opening the front door for Liza. “I really don’t have furniture yet, except for two rocking chairs on the porch, and a bed in the bedroom. Did I mention the new wine refrigeration cabinet Frank Degas delivered this morning? It came replete with an array of California Napa Valley wines. Would you like to help? I was just about to arrange the bottles according to their temperature and humidity needs.” He smiled.

“This selection leads me to believe Frank was planning a wine-tasting party. Too bad he selected California wines, instead of rich wines from the Burgundy regions of France. It is there in my home that grapes were grown and wines made for centuries. My family cultivated grapes in the unique foothill slope soils there. And I, in my youth, worked as wine-maker’s assistant, learning the chemical properties and balances required.”

Adeptly, Germaine lined the bottles on the tiled counter, from sparkling dry whites, to sweeter roses, then reds. He finished with desserts. In Liza’s profession she had learned the names and contents of alcoholic drinks although she herself did not drink. At the moment she wasn’t working, and Germaine was not her usual company. This seemed like something fun to try, and her new neighbor had it all set up.

“Choose one, and I’ll open it,” said Germaine, holding an electric bottle opener like it was an Olympic torch.

Liza chose the pinot that sat next to a sparkling wine, saying, “Champagne is for celebrations; save that one.”

Germaine replied, “Every day is a celebration! Drink the champagne! Let’s taste your first choice.”

He filled a quarter of each glass with wine, and handed one to Liza. He instructed her to take a sniff, observe the edges of the wine, and note any colors. The reds, he said, would be more distinct.

“What did you smell?” asked Germaine.

“Maybe a little fruit,” was Liza’s response.

“And perhaps apple, or pear?”

She nodded. Germaine instructed her to sip, swish it around, and savor.

“Ooh, it’s smooth! I do taste a hint of apple or pear. It’s very drinkable.”

“Which one would you like to try next?” he asked.

She looked at him fetchingly and said, “Opening each bottle for such a small amount seems like a waste. Why don’t we just drink this bottle- it’s really good.”

“So we shall, he agreed. I’ll pour our glasses, put the bottle in the wine chiller and we can enjoy it out on the porch.”
They sat in the new rocking chairs next to one another.

“Is Frank going to live here,” Liza asked.

Germaine took a long sip of wine and replied, “I don’t think so. I was under the impression that he was only bringing stuff out here as an excuse to visit a couple of your cute cowgirls.”

Liza pursed her lips and said, “It’s got me wondering since that complete wine-tasting package showed up- did he think your home was going to be his party house?”
If so, he would be inviting my girls over here!”

Germaine added, “And you would lose money.”

“Exactly! Do you mind me asking where you got those beautifully detailed tats?” asked Liza.

“Not at all, my dear. Years ago in Borneo,” he said.

She looked puzzled. “Is Borneo on the corner of 4th and Center, just off the strip, or out in the shopping mall?”

“Neither,” he replied with an amused smile. “Borneo is an island in the Western Pacific.”

“Wow,” she said. “You’ve traveled a lot!” She was impressed.

Quietly, he murmered, “More than you will ever know.”

The conversation flowed as easily as did the wine. Liza soon found herself in the throes of or****ic ecstasy as Germaine made passionate love to her while they drifted in a canoe along a tranquil river.

When she began to feel her body again, her or***ms had transcended her in a newfound self-awareness. Never before had she reached such a sustained state of nirvana.

All around her, a soft glow of deep rose morphed slowly to peach. The glow dimmed as she untangled herself from around him.

With every fiber of his being having been sated, Germaine whispered, “Tu es si belle.”

Back to reality, he apologized for the lateness of the hour, saying it was ‘time to take Buddy home before he falls asleep.’

They both dressed quickly in the darkened room. He found his glasses, and led her through the dimly-lit entry way. He handed her a small gift box, and coaxed, “Please open it.”

Pleased and surprised, she asked, “What is it?”

Upon opening it, she found a black velvet bag containing a rare gold coin and gasped in amazement.
Germaine asked, “Have you ever seen one of these?” She shook her head. He continued, “You can track its’ value as gold prices fluctuate. If you should decide to sell, be sure the gold dealer is a reputable one, and to check its’ value on the day you sell it. Keep it safe, and don’t let anyone know you have it.”

“I never expected anything like this- thank you!” Liza gushed the words sincerely. Then together, they walked out into half-moonlight. Germaine bridled Buddy, tightened the saddle cinch, and helped Liza mount her horse.
“I really enjoyed your company; will you come visit me when I call? I’m only here three to four times a year.”

“I’m looking forward to our next time,” she sighed, in breathless surrender. She playfully enjoyed the tiny saddle bounce all the way home.

A few minutes after Liza’s departure, Germaine left his driveway and headed Northeast.

Liza, meanwhile, wondered how she, -the queen of control- had so stupendously lost it. He had displayed masterful power over her and oh lord, she had never felt that good before! Every three or four months thereafter, Liza got a call from Germaine.

She was always aroused to see him, and his visits were always formatted much the same. The wine came from different regions- Napa, Sonoma, Maipo Valley in Chile, Australia, Tuscany, and finally, Burgundy or Bordeaux.

Germaine always set the wine bottles out for tasting. Liza chose which to start with.

After that, they would sample three or four more bottles before settling on the perfect one to drink.

Every time, it was Frank Degas who had provided the wine and some of the conversation. On one such visit, the two sat on the front porch rocking chairs drinking chosen pinot noir. Germaine said, “Frank wanted to build an outdoor kitchen here with a dance floor, so I could have BBQs and a dance band, while he would invite the girls from next door. I told him to talk you into building an outdoor kitchen at your place.”
Liza laughed. “He didn’t get a chance to ask because I avoided him. Still do- he always wants to renovate my place.”

Germaine decided against telling her that it meant updating her business with a new, more contemporary look. Neither seemed aware of how deep their relationship was growing. Spending time together was fulfilling both of their immediate needs, wishes and desires. Valuable and rare gold coins were always his parting gifts.

For most of a year, Germaine did not call to soothe Liza’s yearning heart. To make matters worse, no one at all had even seen him. Bobby Laser seemed to think Germaine was off on some sort of a space mission. When asked, that was all the info he was willing to share.

Finally, one bright and sunny Tuesday, the phone rang.

“Mon amour do you have a moment for me today?” asked the silky voice she recognized to be her beloved Germaine!

“I will see you at 2:00 pm.” Liza drove into his driveway, saw him on the porch, and her heart raced with anticipation. He looked delicious in apricot linen shirt. Of course, all was accentuated with earlobe ornaments, these made of silver with poppy jasper cabochon centers!

When he saw Liza, he extinguished his cigar, and casually walked to greet her. She slowly opened the car door, and seductively put one sassy, red platform-heeled foot out, then the other. With a look of charmed approval, he took her by the hand.
She was purposefully luscious in a white crop-top and matching hip hugger skinny jeans.

“Oh, mon amour, I have missed you.” he gasped.

“Where have you been? My body aches for you,” she sighed. Her words poured like a cool Spring melt suddenly warmed by Summer sunlight.

“I see you are enjoying a new, candy-apple red ‘Vette,” he said with interest.

“Yes,” she cooed, walking to the front of the car to perch on the hood. She looked like a living goddess for a hood ornament, he thought. She patted the hood, explaining, “She’s got a 455 under here.”
Without commenting he took her by the hand and led her over to the garage where he flicked his wrist and raised the door. There was just something so bewitching about a pretty lady with a knowledge and appreciation of automobiles.

With a motion of his hands, an aquamarine-metallic, 1955 Mercedes backed itself out of the garage, and swung ‘round, lifting its’ gull-wing doors reminiscent of a mythical bird. “Please, mon amour, he said, “Observe a special modification to this automobile that makes it higher tech than even your new ‘Vette.”

As she was being helped into the passengers’ seat, Liza asked, “What are we doing?“

“I just want you to see something here,” Germaine replied, as the car silently rolled out of the driveway and onto the road. “Now, watch.” He shifted into floater-drive, raising the car above the pavement. The modified car took off with a force that pinned them back in their seats.

“Wow!” she said. When several miles had flashed by, he turned to her and asked, “What are we doing here?’

She shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and slid her hand well into the forbidden zone of his upper thigh. The Mercedes’ swing axle did a 180º quicker than a humans’ blink. The drive back to the house was nearly as fast, and the Gull wings raised up with no time for wine or foreplay.

He glowed with a pure, red-raging passion, deftly orchestrating a crescendo of ecstasy.

In his lifetime of travels through many eras and cultures, Germaine had learned the intricate art of true lo******ng.

Liza, the commercial goddess of love, was now the beneficiary.

The afternoon and evening was a sexual o**y, over which Germaine controlled the parameters. Liza never spent a night with him, nor had he invited her to. It was as though their time together was manifest destiny. And he always gave her rare gold coins, this time tendering two quite valuable ingots. He walked her to where her ‘vette gleamed under the starlight, and hugged her.

“Mon amori, you will always be
life mon amour.”

Liza did not see the tear behind the dark glasses he always wore.
She drove out of his driveway. For Germaine, it had been too difficult to tell her she would never see him again.

A few minutes later, he drove the Gullwing silently out onto the road, and turned Northwest. He settled in for a long nights’ drive, lit one of his thin French ci**rs and turned on poignant music.