Nun for you and nun for me

Had rather a interesting confrontation with that young woman a couple of days ago.. A particularly hot evening, about 4.p.m. Glorious…

Never been to Aura's home, abode.. where she stayed, where she supervised these other young ladies, the house belonging to some Germans, they quite pleased to have Aura run it for them .

Often, over the long period of time I have know Aura, had heard stories, yet always kept discreetly away from the premises, hardly worried me. Have been kept away from, shall we perhaps say, better places, a mere detail in the arrangement she and I had.

This particular afternoon started thinking, little else too do, Cyntia having triggered the idea of popping round previously, she being rather cute at indirectly wynding people up. Made me think, maybe I should drop by, see what does transpire, what does go on, if anything.
Peter put his shorts on, his "Pattaya" singlet, his gold braided "Tottenham" supporters hat, bare feet other than for sandals .. black glasses..

Dresses for the beach, apparently. Quite brown now ..all over.. dressed in almost nothing. Looked good, felt up to the occasion, which I knew it was going to be.


Called the cab, showed him the bit of paper, useless trying to pronounce these streets.

Personally, like Bucharest cabs ..taking your life in your hands every second of the way, the overriding factors being it is extremely cheap and I am not driving…A change for me to sit in the back seat, which I always do.

So, sat in the back seat, put my feet up, made myself quite comfortable, hung tightly on to the handrail above the door, lucky this time there was one.. usually they are broken off, the doors actually closed fully.. Not the faintest echo of the Public carriage office and the Hackney carriage rules and regulations.. quite refreshing

The Taxi inspectors at Penton street would have a group heart attack if they saw this lot of rotting metal hurtling about the boulevards.

Set out on our journey through the pot holes, through the trams, the buses, veering through the cars the hooting and the honking.. the mad rush to oblivion. The driver successfully fought his way through, as they all do, James Bond fashion, regardless of my asking him to take it easy, I, in no particular hurry. My few words of Romanian.. totally ignored .. Foot down, hand on the horn. This piece of protracted excitement, travelling across town, cost me just over a pound sterling, gave him a couple of bob on top, he, most grateful .



Arrived, the driver did the business at the door ringing, evidently the wrong bell, as there was no answer. Thought, well I will hang about, nothing else too do.. he left leaving me posing on the doorstep in my very brief attire. Waited about half an hour.

Aura had mentioned having a Nun stay with her, I always fancied a drop of nun.. "Nun for you and nun for me"… how the story goes.. Wondered what manner of Nun she was.. complete with a mobile phone and a penchant for Jack Daniel's whisky, must be interesting..

Lo and Behold.. along comes a nun in full rig, she not knowing me from bar of soap, I standing in front of the street door, she opened it, followed her in, gave me a funny look, followed her to the lift, gave me another funny look, muttered something, muttered a few words back, pointing upwards towards God, which no doubt consoled her.. Stepped out the same landing as herself, now she quite worried this naked man, in her terms, perhaps pursuing her, maybe believing her luck had changed, who knows what a nun thinks?? When I stood by the same door as she, she became very worried, anyway the door was opened. .there was someone there, as said, the cab driver had rung the wrong bell. Consternation ! Aura not there. .her friend whom I assumed was the girl friend of the Swiss man I heard so very much about, who had received so much money, she gave me a strange look, the nun gave me a strange look…

Asked for Aura, said she was not there, said I would wait and gave every indication of doing so indefinitely.

With that they invited me in into a strange room, in a time warp, furniture at least fifty years old.. clearly nothing had been touched.. neat and tidy.. Large terrace which I went and sat on.. A drink materialized.. the usual 90 % proof stuff.. firewater nothing less. .quite usual in Romania.

Had a few sips, knowing full well they would tip Aura off on the mobile phone I had given her. Peter was there ..never fear.. They disappeared, I sat, looking at the landscape.

Eventually recovering their composure, Aura no doubt informing them I would not bite.. invited me in, another drink.

Now quite comfortable.. few drinks, chatting the birds.. Peter's forte..

Asked the girl, in all innocence, about her "Swiss" man. She came back "What Swiss man !?" Here we go.. Peter thought ..strange.. "You are Auras' friend.. the one she has Known since childhood??" Yes, she was, however, her boy friend, she insisted, was a "Turk" Rather the other end of the spectrum.." Oh…!"

Never said anything more. The nun disappeared. She had been hit by a car, quite seriously damaging her eye.. so very dangerous cars in Bucharest.. no compensation, peanuts.. about all..

Sat there, almost naked as far as these ladies were so obviously concerned . Did have my heavy silver bracelet with the names of all my known children, which offset the inclination of looking at me as if I were some hooligan.

Aura made her breathless, dramatic appearance just as I was getting into the swing of things .

To say she was giving me black looks in no way described her demeanor. If she had a knife she would , I say without hesitation, have stabbed me that instant, that split second in time, when our eyes met.

She removed, somewhat brusquely, my dark glasses in order to get a much better look at me, maybe believing looks could kill. Peter refusing to be ruffled by this display on her part and put the glasses, quite deliberately back on his face.

Apparent the last person she wanted to see in that apartment was Peter. I had already jumped to that obvious conclusion .. enjoying the situation immensely..
From the "Off" known, for whatever reason, Peter had to be kept under wraps , however , here he was, bold, bold as a bowler hat on a Bradford millionaire, sitting quite comfortably, pumping her friend… Still of the opinion Aura's previous.. a Greek.. was still lurking around in his BMW.

Well, we shall see now..

kids stuff….. we know.

Enjoyed it, which is the criterion in my life now… whether or not anything amuses me and it does take rather a lot to do so.

Quite casually, started the ball rolling with …..

"Where is the young lady ..your friend whom you have told me so very much about.. the one who has the "Swiss Man " the man who gives her $12.000 as if it were mere bagatelle!!!

"I do not have any other men" this reply through the tears.. "So why are you crying your eyes out.."

Now really starting to shout and I can do so extremely loudly, loud enough for people to come out on their verandahs, no discretion here, no twitching net curtains "Crying because I lied to you"

"Well, you would not be the first woman to do that or quite conceivably, the last"

Most women lie to Peter, quite a common characteristic for females to lie, even the most devoutly religious ones ..as found to my cost. It is part of the female .

"So why did you concoct such a elaborate story which continued for months??

" I don't know" she said lamely

As Raluca, she went very strange just before sticking the knife in and stole a apartment from me.

On the face of it I had obviously driven Aura mad as have done with the other female faces. All the women ever encountered have cracked in one way or the other.. so it must be Peter. Know I am no good. No! will not go to heaven.


When it comes to women, they simply cannot handle it, must be something about me.. not playing by the rules..

By now, quite a audience, said to Fanny "if you do not tell me now, this instant what is going on and stop sniveling, I will shout louder.." We had taken the situation out to the edge of the terrace. Glorious evening, people becoming quite engrossed in this clearly mad foreigner.. this ancient old man shouting at the young woman.

As my mother, the more she was told to "Shut Up" the louder she shouted, she never gave a toss for anyone. Only the Blacks eventually intimidated and humiliated her, broke her, as so many other old ladies.

Why should I shut up?? have looked after the girl as if she were wife, mistress, princess, daughter, …..granddaughter, which she could be.. simply not the slightest grounds for fucking me about ..story of Peter.

Had every right to know what is going on in the young woman's life, away from myself, when she did not show, feel I am not unreasonable .

By now the girl like a piece of wet rag, all her arrogance, independence, determination if you like, ebbed away as quickly as the tide on Maldon Flats.


Said to her 'Going to stay here until the Greek shows up, like a good fight.. not had one for ages'

"I have no Greek.. he is in England "she insisted.. "How do I know that?? you are capable of telling me anything which comes into your head ..which you think may fit your plan. Yes, I do know what you told me about the Greek, you also told me your girlfriend had a Swiss boyfriend…giving her $12000 a time.…"

Had to rub it in, anyway the little drama had dragged on for about two hours, I getting tired and bored, had my evenings entertainment.

Tried to wynd the situation down.

"Hardly know what to say in these cases, never know what there is too say, what can be said?.. No answer on this Planet, do not ask me for one. As most females, you, consciously or otherwise, revel in being a enigma, a mystery.. What are you all about!? ..why tell me such intricate stories..? hardly run away with the idea you are different from any other woman, because you are not"

Started to consider my situation.. how many 71 year old men have 23 year old birds?? With that thought decided to ease off further, poor bitch..


Why concern myself why? Why she came out with such a fanny of a story, so much conviction attached to it.

Thought of one or two other stories I had been told by other female faces, told with so much earnestness, so much conviction.

I shut up.

No longer interested, very tired.. needed a drink, needed to go back to the comparative sanity of Cynthia, someone who so far has not gone quite off her rocker, has come pretty close to it on occasions. She possess this fierce determination to hold on to Peter and evidently her sanity at all costs, do not know why, disregarding his wanderings, his misplaced attitudes, his lack of respect for society and the people in it, herself on occasions. All this she totally ignores, acts at times, as if Aura is part of the family, other times, she is slightly more the other way. Whatever, the situation, so far as she is concerned… Nothing too much trouble.. twenty four hours a day.. every day. Naturally, now wanting to return to Cynthia on my weary horse, weary of charging at windmills, needing the comfort of a "Home" .

By now the situation had subsided, Aura going down in the lift with me, I also thinking more practically… of her beautiful naked body in bed and the way she can use it….


She told the cab driver the directions, plenty on my mind without attempting the Romanian language.

Saw I had recovered, now more pliable, looking at her breasts, falling the way all women wish all men to fall ..hostage to their charms, their mystery, aware I had not taken too much real interest in her little lies, saw also, her own position had completely changed, the "Cat out of the bag".. having to admit the truth to her friends.

God knows what fanny, what fairy stories she had told them about the "Englishman". Probably I was "Prince Charming", twenty four years old, had three camels and two Mercedes, for all I know..

All out in the open now .. she working her way through University………Okay..


My parting shot.

"Better have a shower, straighten your face out, change your knickers, come round about nine………"

Drifted away.

An evenings' entertainment.. something..

Had little intention of mentioning to Cyn, would only be ammunition for her to throw at me, not directly.. simply sniping at the opportune moment, as indeed every woman, a inherent capability.. biding their time.. then shooting straight when one is unprepared.

Naturally she is not entirely happy with the situation, although it suits her sometimes.. My, shall we say "girlfriend" living with us occasionally. Then we all have our problems. I making it quiet clear when she married me, would still play my small games, this she readily concurred to.

If she tries to become respectable now, slippers by the fire. nodding my evenings away in the armchair.. loses her fetish for the whip, the chains and the handcuffs. Watching me watching the legs go by, watching the breasts go by……in other arms, in other situations… bizarre conceivably, in other people's terms.

Too late, Peter will never change, not going to "succumb" as Susan would say, almost went down with that trollop.. have no intention of changing or shutting up to suit anyone, why should I?

"No one keeps me ..!" As my mother would say acidly, with some bitterness, some venom.



End of another little story.






That was it ! she suddenly broke down into sobs and gasps, all the belligerence and venom, turning to water. Collapsed within herself ..said she had lied.. I said "Fucking sure you have" my voice beginning to gain momentum. I usually speak too softly for most people. Said to her "Had this situation long before you were born, before your mother was born," so I came straight out with it asking "So where's the geezer!!"


Aura came round.. very demure, had a little food, a little red wine..

Bed.

A long night, which she spent most of gently crying in my arms, nothing was going to console her, as if a child ……..as my children..


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"There'ya are, sport.. There'ya go."

….. As they would remark in "Orstrilia".


August. 6th; 2000. …. Jennifer's Birthday……

3.30.a.m…. Jennifer's time.