Read Online THURSDAY'S ORCHID by Robert Mitchell - Free Book Online Page A

cook – both at the same time – that he had any idea of what his angel had been up to. The pair left the place so fast their legs didn’t touch the ground. Susie was sent off to convent boarding-school the next day. I never saw her again, but I had thought about her for years afterwards.
    The last time I had bounced around with Susie had been on that previous afternoon, just before Dave had caught her with the lads. I shook for weeks afterwards, for it could have been me that was given the bullet. As it was, most of the men had their faces to the ground every time they passed poor Dave. There was no sniggering behind his back though. He was bigger than any two of them put together.
    Susie had been good fun. I could see her as though it were yesterday. We had just finished baling the last of the day’s wool-clip. She was hiding behind a mound of bales, trying to entice me to give up the baling and get down to the balling. She was giving me the come-on; dress hitched high showing the frilly knickers, and shirt buttons undone to the waist; two tiny red nipples hiding tantalizingly behind the edge of rough material.
    I lay on the bed, hearing the hum of the hotel air-conditioner in the distance, my head nest led into the pillow, Gerry’s long hair tickling my nose, and couldn’t help the smile creeping across my face at the thought of Susie, at the memory of that hollow feeling growing deep in the pit of my stomach as she gave me that coy smile, jerking her head towards the empty space behind the stack of bales.
    Then I had it! The answer to the problem!
    How bloody simple.

Four
     
    Crash!!
    The open palm slashed across my face, bringing me back to reality with a jolt as Gerry’s fiery eyes fixed on mine.
    “Are you bloody drunk, bloody impotent or bloody what?” she shrieked as she squeezed out from under me and bounced off the bed. “You men are all the same! All talk and no balls!”
    Gerry was fighting mad. “Stuff you, you bastard!” she shrilled.
    I pitied the husband, and I pitied whoever was trying to get to sleep on the other side of the wall . I just lay there, a stupid grin on my face, and started to laugh. She wasn’t needed any more. I had what I wanted, although probably not what I needed.
    “You bastard!” she snapped, looking down at my limp member. “You can play with yourself for the rest of the goddamned night. I’m leaving!”
    The clothes went on faster than they had come off. She stormed out of the room, nearly slamming the door off its hinges, and I could hear mutterings as she stomped down the corridor. It was so tragic it was almost hilarious.
    I poured myself a small whisky and reached for the phone.
    Nick’s voice answered on the tenth ring: blurred and slow. He had been asleep, which wasn’t surprising considering the time.
    “Who is it?” he asked. I told him. “What time is it?” I told him that as well.
    He was having trouble focussing. Either that or he had finished off the second bottle of Metaxa and consumed a few more of those potent liqueurs after I had left. I could hear Angeline mumbling in the background.
    “Wake up, Nick,” I whispered down the phone. “It’s Father Christmas come to give you a present .” I was just drunk enough to be playful.
    “Are you drunk?” the groggy voice asked. “What the hell are you ringing me in the middle of the night for? Go to bed for Christ’s sake!”
    I could sense he was getting ready to slam the receiver down in my ear.
    “Wait!” I yelled. “I’ve got the answer to our problem. I’ve got the goddamned solution!” There was silence. “Nick!” I yelled again, hoping that he could hear me and not hang up. He came back a moment later. But for those few long seconds I thought I had lost him.
    “Did I hear you say what I thought you said?” he asked, the voice now wide awake. “Or are you just dreaming through the bottom of a glass?”
    “No, Nick. I mean, yes, I’ve got the answer. And it’s perfect. Of course