- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing»
- Creative Writing
The English woman across the street, a short story, Part 3
Over the years, I had sensed that there was trouble in paradise, and her marriage was probably a one-legged one. None of my business, really, and since everybody was working so hard at keeping up appearances...
Do I feel bad about spilling my guts about having been in deep, complete, uncontrollable lust over my younger neighbor for the past seven years or so ? Absolutely not ! On the contrary ! I don't want that good, warm feeling to ever go away. One Wednesday night, after dinner and our second glass of brandy, I confided to father Bernard about that situation. He listened to me carefully, but in the end, lifted up his arms in a powerless gesture :
- "What would you like me to say to you, Antoine. To any of my parishioners, I would plead to stop, repent and ask for God's forgiveness. But what the HELL am I supposed to say to YOU! Let's have another drink !" And that night, Father Bernard slept in one of the guest rooms, nearly passed out drunk...
I never expected anything to happen between Belinda and me. I had just been content to look at her and drool, just like my dog when he sleeps. I had seen her from far away I had seen her swim in her pool, with no top on, and the more I saw of her, the more in lust with her I became. I don't ask anybody to understand, maybe it's just my way of bearing my own cross !
Belinda is flat chested ! Not Gwyneth Paltrow flat chested. More like my ironing board flat chested ! Because of the way she is built, her nipples appear to be oversized. Their size, their shape, their color, combined to the fact that there is no need for her to ever wear a bra has driven me insane, provided I was't there before !
I had a terrible time to pry the driver's door open. My first thought was to call for outside help. Then I realized that it would take at least an hour for anybody to reach us. The closest fire station is eight miles away, so in that weather, I was pretty much on my own, weak heart and all. I had to go back to the house to get a broomstick to hold the door open. The passenger's side of the car was deeply buried in the ditch and the rear door of the tiny station-wagon would not open. So, the only way in and out was through the driver's side. Once I had that door secured in open position, I needed to figure a way to haul Belinda out of there. Damn ! I wished I didn't live in such a remote area, sometimes ! Once I finally crawled inside the car, I got confirmation that Belinda was not conscious, which I had suspected all along when she didn't respond to my talking to her. But I found a pulse on her forearm. By the time I managed to carry her half way out of the car, my heart was pounding from the effort, and I was sweating profusely. Not good! And I wasn't even close to be done. My wool robe was now a heavy,soaked piece of rag and my boots were filling with melted snow. If only I could breathe better ! I painfully extracted myself from the vehicle, and from where I stood now, I could grab Belinda and carry her on my back, the way I learned in the Army. At least, I got something useful out of this non-sense entity ! Let's just say this : getting my neighbor to safety, between the snow, the wind, and my stupid heart threatening to quit without notice, was no picnic. But we made it, and once inside, I just dropped her in front of the warm flames of the fireplace. I managed to close the front door, tried to make it to the sofa which I missed only by a few inches, and collapsed from exhaustion on the floor. The feel of Reglisse licking my face brought me back to the real world. Good doggie ! I wasn't out more than a few minutes, probably, but the grandfather's clock in the corner by the fireplace indicated one in the morning. It had taken that long, huh ? I waited for my blood to circulate in my system at a normal pace before I could check on Belinda :
- "Belinda, honey, this is Tony, your neighbor, can you hear me ?"
My name is Antoine, but she always called me Tony, And oh, the power of that delightful British accent when she pronounces my name : "Towney..." But right now, she was mute and that worried me. I also wondered where my nitro pills where, now would be a good time to pop one or two of those babies. I found them in the drawer of my nightstand, exactly where they belonged and had been all the time. I let two melt under my tongue, as instructed, and after a few minutes, I could definitely feel a boost to my system. I went back to Belinda, to find Reglisse licking her lovely hand. That must have done something as, for a split second, she smiled, then opened one eye, shortly followed by the other. She gave the beams of the ceiling a long blank stare, obviously trying to figure out where she was. Later, she turned her head slightly and made eye contact with me. She reached for my hand and grabbed it :
- "Oh, Tony !"
- "Don't move !" I said, in complete contradiction with what I had desperately wanted her to do for the past hour or so. I walked up to the bar, located the bottle of Armagnac and filled two shot glasses with it. Then, I came back to her :
- "Drink this !" I lifted up her head, and installed two pillows under it. I handed her the glass, she put it up to her lips and shivered. Belinda doesn't drink alcohol ! Unlike her husband who does. Like a fish !
- "You have to drink it, Sweet !" I said, "it'll do you good ". Like if I knew if it was to do her any good or not. But she drank it, and within minutes, colors had come back to her adorable face. She smiled at me, and my poor used and abused heart skipped another beat, but for a legitimate reason this time...
To be continued...
Copyright 2012 by Austinhealy, his heirs and assigns.
More stories from Austinhealy
- Pulpit love, a short story, Part 1
A large amount of cash is missing. So are two eighteen years old twin sisters. What's going on at the Paradise Pines Church of God ?
- My first heart attack, a true story for a change !
Here's a story about what you shouldn't do. But I did it anyway and was lucky enough to tell the tale. Do the right thing : see your doctor when the time comes !
- Life in Paris under Nazi occupation (May 1940-Augus...
A mostly pictorial account of the invasion and occupation of Paris by German military forces in 1940.