Very Forgettable Affair

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Chapter 1

A small advertisement in the high fashion magazine at the beauty salon where Arlene Cabot was having pedicure before eyebrow arching, caught the eye of the pampered 40-year-old fading beauty:

Day/Evening companion for adventurous woman while hubby is exhausting himself on mini golf tour or trekking inland on manly pursuits. Confidentiality guaranteed. Email for references and Agendas. Casey James, Port Douglas, Queensland Australia.

Arlene smiled, wondering what Casey’s recommended Agenda was: Sweaty and messy no doubt. Satisfaction guaranteed? The grubby man’s advertisement suggested male prostitution was alive and well in Aussie.

One of the few things Arlene had never tried was a liaison while on vacation.

At home, she’d had the occasional fling with one of Keith’s friends and had been naughty with a couple of her best girlfriends, but on vacation she tended to be circumspect, not knowing the ‘natives’

Her lawyer-husband spent most of the working year sitting on his ass, so when on vacation tended to act like a young guy on steroids, feasting daily on adventure, booze and bimbos.

Well, he worked hard so Arlene was quite content to see him rip into life like that twice a year and he on returning home he always had medical check results before Arlene would open her legs for him, so why be bothered?

If an irate husband terminated Keith, he’d leave behind additional insurance to top up his normal cover and potential new husbands would line up for the attractive former model who was wealthy in her own right.

If Keith had not been taking Arlene to Port Douglas in five weeks’ time, she would not have returned to re-read that advertisement.

“Kitty please hand me a pen and piece of paper.”

The housemaid obliged, saying, “Here you are, ma’am.”

The grubby man had listed a website so Arlene noted it, thinking if he bothered with a website he was likely to be a permanent resident rather than a transit fly-by-nighter.

That evening when Keith was working on briefs in his study, finishing off the bottle of red wine he’d opened for dinner (Arlene’s preference was Champagne or mineral water), she went to her dressing room and booted her laptop.

Arlene’s breath caught when the grubby Mr Aussie’s website filled her screen. Tall, lean and bronze with devouring blue eyes, square jaw and a cynical look around the mouth of gleaming teeth, he’d fit in well with high society on Manhattan.

She stared, recovering from her surprise and not surprised that her nipples were pushing against her negligee.

“Hello Mr Beautiful,” she purred. “Oh God, is this my dream vacation?” Perhaps not because the thought of his lean butt pushing down over female clients he didn’t know was a tad off-putting, probably more than a tad.

Arlene hit the ‘Agendas’ button and smiled when finding Seduction was not listed.

For $600 a day his client (the opening page made it clear the service provided only for the daily needs of a solitary female clients) could choose from: Tramping, Bird Watching, Fine Dining, Golf, Beachcombing, Waited Upon in Quiet Solitude, Jet Skiing, Fishing, Crocodile Spotting, Boating, Shopping, Great Barrier Reef Adventure.

Most impressed, Arlene wondered what it would be like shopping with Mr Casey James.

The option of being waited upon in quiet solitude, suggested seduction was a choice for the client. Perhaps most if not all of the other activities suggested a bit of a romp might be available. Perhaps not on the Crocodile Spotting option.

She phoned Keith two rooms away and, checking his diary, he said the nights he’d be away on his Small Group Golfing Safari would be the 11th,12th and 13th.

Arlene told him she was thinking of searching the Web to see if she could be away on those nights on a Small Group Garden Tour.

“Are you sure darling? Your companions are likely to be boring elderly women.”

“Whatever gave you the idea that elderly women are boring darling?”

“I was thinking of my mother and my elderly female clients.”

Arlene suggested perhaps the minibus driver would be a young virile male and Keith replied she was fantasizing but perhaps she better have contraceptive protection with her.

How cynical of Keith, Arlene thought. That was one of the reasons why she’d never really loved him.

She’d decided when in her late teens she’d only marry for love but when ending her career as a photographer’s model when her parents died from a gas leak when asleep in their vacation apartment in South America, she’d been left without immediate family. Keith, who’d taken over from his father as their family’s attorney, arrived to comfort her and had stayed the night, beginning their countdown to marriage.

The next morning Arlene found an email had arrived from Casey James. His tone immediately repelled her:

Yes, I am available on those four days you enquired about. But first let me make myself quite clear. You sex-starved güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri American women responding to my advertisement have this weird idea that I’m a hunk with a long dick just waiting to bang them into the vacation of their lifetime. Let me make this quite clear: I rarely dick women and when I do it’s entirely my choice. Look up the appropriate pages on the Web if you are looking for a gigolo.

Casey James

Livid at being brushed off in that manner, Arlene stomped around the house looking to find something to point out to the housekeeper, dusting, unable to believe that any male could be so arrogant and rude. She finally was settled enough to sit down and write a courteous reply.

You arrogant and rude man. I shall not require your companionship for my little adventures while in Port Douglas. Please flaunt that tiny dick of yours at the crocodiles you disgusting man.

Arlene Cabot

She read her response, counted to fifty and reread it, satisfied that’s how she wished to tell the grubby man exactly what she thought of him. She sent it off. Two hours later she was reading his response.

Dear Mrs Cabot

Your response indicates the type of right-thinking woman I seek as a client. Please confirm the days you require x $A600 a day including all travel, meals and any fees and list the activities you desire and your address here in Port Douglas and the time you’d like me to call on the first morning. Fill out the client schedule on my Web Page and use the secure payment option to pay by credit card. That way confirms your bookings. Alternatively wait until you arrive and pay at the end of each day that I accompany you on Your Adventure but that can only occur if I have no bookings for those days.

Casey James

With a finger over the Delete key Arlene paused to reread the last sentence of JJ’s response: ‘Your Adventure.’ How could she have a twosome adventure without JJ or someone like him? Would it matter if sex wasn’t on the agenda? She decided to book the uncouth man. Well, at least she had a good idea of what she would be getting — a guy with an ego as big as his boots.

She booked Day 1: 36 holes of golf at the Mirage Resort course with a light lunch between the two rounds. Day 2: Great Barrier Reef. Day 3: Shopping. Day 4: Waited Upon in Quiet Solitude.

She paid the $2400, thinking the service would have to be of professional quality standard to justify his fees.

Next morning his reply was in her mail box, thanking her for the booking and payment but suggested switching the reef trip to the first day because she could be exhausted after two rounds of golf in one day which could spoil the reef adventure.

She smiled, thinking he would picture her as a fat rich New York woman rather than how she saw herself, a fit gym bunny.

Not having worked for six years, Arlene had worked hard on her fitness to shape her body for life providing she also kept largely to her healthy eating regime. She replied to Casey James she accepted his suggestion although he should not doubt her ability to engage in high-energy outdoor pursuits.

* * *

Casey James, who worked remotely as a manuscript editor for Daydreamer Books International, heard the incoming email alarm and finished working the chapter he was editing technically prior to sending off.

He smiled when he read that the dame from Manhattan classified herself as being fit. Well, that would be a change from some of her New York contemporaries he’d taken on adventures, most of them choosing adventures beyond their capabilities.

When this Cabot woman had given him a brusquely rude dumping, he’d thought she’d not be run-of-the-mill because there had been no demand for an apology or mealy-mouthed groveling for him to fit them into his scheduled.

He’d had three rotten encounters with women from the Eastern states recently, hence his brush-off.

The Cabot woman was the first to receive that ill-advised email. Casey had been considering limiting Americans to Californian women in future as his diary was pretty full with clientele of preferred origins from South Africa, New Zealand, France, Scandinavia, Germany and Australia of course, and with careful screening, Asia and Britain.

The problem with American women arriving with great expectations had arisen from a good-looking and horny Chicago magazine journalist who went on the croc spotting day with him and then lived with him for three nights before going back home and writing about her ‘fabulous month in Australian’, being very indiscreet about the men who’d balled her.

The Cabot woman sounded okay. If she were horny, he’d find her a bedroom partner, not that it was part of his usual service but she’d obvious wanted professional service and expected to be lonely while her old man was doing his thing.

He’d though she was genuine when she requested 36 holes of golf. That had indicated to him she had endurance and believed she could cope with güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri tropical heat. He hoped she was a good golfer and drank cool water rather than alcohol otherwise she’d be a washout on the reef trip. So, she thought he had a small dick. Perhaps if he liked her, he might adjust her thinking about that!

Casey grinned and returned to his editing work.

* * *

Arlene spent a few mornings reading up about Port Douglas, noting it was about 45 miles from Cairns International Airport. Their near-beachfront accommodation villa appeared very roomy and classy and the pool looked wonderful. It was just a short walk to the small town that was studded with restaurants.

She had high expectations for this vacation because it was a long way to go for just nine days with an elapsed flying time to get to their destination of around twenty-five hours.

Then she virtually forgot about the vacation until with six days to go, Keith advised he’d confirmed everything. They would fly out on Sunday.

“It’s a very long journey with breaks at LA and Sydney and we fly out direct to LA from Brisbane on the way home. We should arrive not too weary as the business class seats fold down into beds.”

Less than a week?

Arlene was shocked to find herself thinking Keith had never qualified her for the Mile-High Club and wondering whether he’d made any other woman eligible. Only a week before they left!

As soon as Keith left the room she went off to her computer and emailed Casey James.

We fly out from FJK this coming Sunday straight through to Sydney via LA and on up to Cairns next day. So, will see you soon. Arlene.

He replied within hours saying thank you and could she send a mugshot so he could recognize her. He also suggested an early start to golf with a break for breakfast to ‘beat the heat’. A mugshot? She knew that must mean a small head and shoulders photograph and sent him a recent one of just her taken at a cocktail party by a commercial photographer that she cropped to head and shoulders size when scanning it.

The very brief reply left her scratching her head: ‘My God Arlene’.

What on earth had he been expecting, a witch?

She didn’t reply but felt good as she suspected his ‘my God Arlene’ reply was his delight at finding she was not a motor-mouth, over-weight New York matron.

She had another look at his image on his website and thought he could be in with a chance if he were a good boy. He appeared to be forty and wasn’t carrying the worried married look.

Chapter 2

On the following Thursday morning in Port Douglas, Keith was picked up at 5:45 for his three-nights away golf safari. He wished Arlene well on her gardens tour and was out the door in a rush, to return to kiss her goodbye as he often did as an after-thought.

Arlene changed into her resort golf outfit and was waiting in the foyer at 6:10 and recognized the face of her escort as he drove up in his luxurious SUV.

Casey came around the back of the vehicle, appraised her, his face neutral, and held out a hand to be shaken, saying, “Good morning Mrs Cabot, you look as lovely as this morning in this lush setting in paradise.”

Ignoring the hand Arlene said, “Forget the formalities Casey. You are my escort for the next three days so a little familiar peck on the lips will be quite okay.”

He hesitated and then stepped up and obliged. She opened her lips slightly in the hope he would feel that and knew that he would be drinking in her exotic French perfume.

Without a word, he opened the passenger door and handed her light bag to her when she was seated.

He pulled down her seat belt and she made no effort to assist but made sure she arched forward as he reach across her so his arm preparing to clip her seat-belt brushed across her breasts, stiffening her nipples but too late for him to feel that.

If he were familiar with female sexuality, he’d automatically know that would happen, as he was a handsome male wearing a musk-like aftershave. Take it carefully, don’t rush, she cautioned herself. He will give you what you want provided there’s not another woman breathing down his neck.

They chatted at ease and as he pointed out something of interest through his driver’s window, she had a chance to scan the width of his impressive chest and felt her thighs tighten. She chided, Arlene you whore!

“Do you have a current golf handicap?”

She said yes, a six, but if he wanted her to play off the men’s tees, she’d play on a ten.

“Men’s tees, so you can belt your drives.”

“Feel my upper body strength,” she laughed,” noting the sudden swerve of the vehicle, quickly and smoothly corrected. “I play off the men’s tees when my husband and I play as a twosome.”

“That would save a lot of fucking around,” he said casually and noting her surprise said, “Sorry, we Australians can be a bit casual with language. I should have remembered you are American. güvenilir bahis şirketleri What I meant was playing off the same tee would be more efficient, less err messing around.”

“I knew what you meant. Is that bird a black-necked stork?”

“Yes,” he said. “Good spotting.”

Their golf cart already loaded with two sets of clubs awaited them.

“These are soft-flex shaft clubs, I would like stiff-shaft women’s clubs as I will be playing off the men’s tees.”

“Right, let’s get them,” Casey said, releasing the set and carrying it back into the pro-shop. They emerged two minutes later with a set of TaylorMade clubs, similar to her custom fitted TaylorMade clubs she had at home.

Casey, who played off a handicap of twelve, suggested they play off the stick (no handicap), apparently thinking his client would be stiff from twenty-eights hours’ travel completed two days earlier, was in an unfamiliar environment and on an unfamiliar course. That should cancel out the six shots he was giving her in that arrangement.

He wondered about the wisdom of his generosity when he saw Arlene wind-up into three practice swings. On the first drive with his superior strength his ball rolled almost 50 feet beyond Arlene’s and they both arrived on the green of the 465-meter 1st in three, Arlene landing much closer to the hole. She was down for five while Casey managed a six and, on the par-3 second, she had an easy birdie while he took four shots. Casey finally nailed her and won by fours strokes after Arlene finished in the water on the 10th and 16th, accruing penalty strokes.

“That was wonderful, what a magnificent course,” she enthused. “You played better than I thought you would have taking me on at scratch considering your handicap.”

“No way was I going to be beaten by a woman,” he grinned.

“Congratulations,” she said, holding up her lips to be kissed and was obliged.

“Do you usually go around kissing strange men?”

She laughed and said he didn’t appear to be strange to her.

“I set out to enjoy myself in your company and that’s what I’m doing,” she said easily.

He raised his golf cap and scratched underneath it. “How far did you expect to go in enjoying yourself?”

Arlene clicked her tongue and said naughty boy and gave him a couple of light pats on his thigh. They drove back to the clubhouse silently, enjoying the vista and lost in private thoughts.

After a leisurely late breakfast, they were out on the course again with the temperature climbing but still short the day’s expected high of 85 degrees.

While Casey was off to the left playing a shot, Arlene hurriedly removed her bra and without thinking tossed it into the tray under the windscreen instead of stowing it in her bag. Casey returned and saw the strap hanging down.

“It’s hot all right,” he said, nodding at the bra.

Coloring, Arlene nodded and said she was sweating.

“Me too, you’ve done the right thing. Remove your knickers when I’m off playing my next shot and they you’ll be much more comfortable. Drink plenty of fluid, the toilets are three tees ahead.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Arlene said, wiping her forehead and reaching for the drink flask.

She played her next shot and when Casey parked to play his one, he parked with the back of the vehicle facing where he would play from, maximizing the privacy for Arlene. He did that without saying a word. She removed her panties and had her shorts back on before he returned, walking very slowly.

“Cute,” he said.

She flushed, looking at her very brief lacy panties on top of her bra. She didn’t reply, looked straight ahead but wearing a little smile he’d not miss if he were looking for a reaction.

As they continued Arlene learned that Casey, a former magazine chief sub-editor in Sydney, now edited fiction manuscripts for a New York publisher on contract.

Arlene had not heard of the publishing company and asked why would they send manuscripts to Australia for editing.

“They send out that work to avoid using expensive inhouse office space for such work, and whether I’m nine city blocks away or nine thousand miles makes no difference to them. It’s only a Send button away by email contact. I worked sub-editing for eighteen months on the Financial Times in New York and three and a half years on the Daily News in New York so am Americanized in language and editing styles. My ex-wife was American.”

“Ex, you say?”

“Yeah, she became involved in a loose group of women and eventually paired off with one of them. I wasn’t sorry to see her go and I was left with some assets. I tend to have trouble picking good women so now only have a couple of favorites who are there for me whenever the desire is there.”


“Cheeky bitch,” he grinned and his face changed and he apologized. “Pardon me, that’s Aussie vernacular.”

“It’s fine by me. Just be yourself.”

“I err already have been behaving like a gentleman, you sitting beside me sweating within a bra or panties.”

Laughing but not looking at him, Arlene attempted to give it her best shot. “I guess that isn’t being your natural self?”

“Guilty ma’am,” he said as they both watched a group of parrots flutter overhead like a bunch of rowdy ruffians just as they arrived at the cart parking bay.

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