Freeing Kirsty Ch. 04

SO FAR: Divorcee Merrick Jamieson (35) visiting New York comes into contact with the moll of the mysterious Spiro whom the spirited Kirsty Fallon has reason to fear if she so much looks at another man. But after a brief association with Merrick Kirsty (25) finds she has become attracted and follows him to his homeland and begins working with the photo-journalist. When Spiro sends a retriever to bring Kirsty back to him Merrick goes to New York and wins her freedom from Spiro. The couple are now free to marry but trouble lies ahead of them.

*

Merrick prepared the dinner while Kirsty worked in Illustrator on the desktop computer signing their wedding invitation she'd designed, great happiness pulsating through her as she worked on this more agreeable of tasks.

At 11:30 they were awoke to a phone call. It was Kirsty's mother, worried that the reception area she'd chosen might not be large enough.

"It's simple, mama. Ask fewer people."

"You know dear, that's exactly what your father said. After all these years you two are still ganging-up on me."

"We both love you, mama; don't you ever forget that.

"Oh, I feel so much better talking to you. I think I will reduce my guest list. That's an excellent idea. Now, let your father and I talk to this young man of yours - we wish to welcome him to the family."

Kirsty rolled her eyes and shook Merrick fully awake.

"That is, providing he's not at work."

"It's 11:30 at night here, mama. I know that New Yorkers believe they are at the centre of the universe and the world works on the same time as them but I didn't realize Califorinians had similar problems with the ego."

"I'm sorry, dear. It's just that it's so light here. It's difficult to image people elsewhere being in the dark."

"Some people in the light can be in the dark."

"What do you mean, darling. Is that one of your obtuse remarks?"

"Here's Merrick - and he's not my young man, mama. I'm twenty-five and he is thirty-five. We are both approaching middle age fast, especially when denied sleep."

"Thirty-five - isn't that a little too old for you?"

"We've had that conversation twice before in the last ten days, mama. Just accept it – I'm in real need of his maturity. Now be polite and not nosey when speaking to him. Here he is."

"Is that you, son?"

"Hello, Mrs Fallon. How nice to hear your lovely voice. You have a real international accent."

"Oh really, how lovely of you to say that. Kirsty says you're thirty-five so you better call me Bess, as some of my friends who call me that are only a little older than you."

"Thank you for that privilege Bess. May I ask what perfume you have on today?"

"L'air du Temp."

"Oh, how lovely. That's by Nina Ricci, isn't it?"

"Well yes, it is."

"Obviously you are a woman of expensive tastes, Bess."

"Well thank you, er, Merrick. But this telephone conversation is supposed to be about you, not me. I wish to welcome you to my family and to ask you to promise to always keep my daughter happy."

"Providing that she always obeys me, Bess."

"I beg your..."

"Oh, Stan is signaling that's a joke. I look forward to talking to you again, er, Merrick. Here's Stan."

"Hullo Merrick, Stan here. Welcome to the family."

"Thanks Stan, I appreciate that. Are you into boating and fishing?"

"Oh yes, and big time into golf and bird watching, if you get my drift."

"You've going to love it down here when you and Bess come to stay with us, Stan. We've got all of that here."

"You sound my kind of man, Merrick."

"Likewise, Stan. Here's you fabulous daughter wanting to say hello."

"Hi dad. Isn't he a smoothie? I knew he'd be your kind of man. Look dad, mum has been going on in her emails about having French champagne by the truck load. Could you handle the rejection of that idea for me please. I want a truly Californian wedding, as that's where it will be. Only Californian wines and foods - and no exotics brought in. By the way, my darling also looks a charming man daddy. I'll email photographs tonight, including one of me involved in a minor rescue mission – but don't show that to mama as I'm showing a bit of tit and you know how she goes on about that. You'll love watching the women here dad and many of them are very sporty; they don't tend to hang out at malls here."

"Does your darling play golf?

"No, a great deal; I think he said a struggling fifteen. Of course he won't mind you playing off a seven, he'll only be concentrating on trying to beat the living daylights out of you."

"He does sound my kind of man."

"Confirmed, daddy. Good bye. Please do the call in future as you'll choose a better time than mama. Auckland is currently twenty-one hours ahead of Los Angeles time. Goodbye and kisses for you both."

Kirsty rolled over on to Merrick with a loud whoopee.

"Daddy thinks you sound a charmer and come across like his kind of man. I thought he'd have to meet you before coming to that conclusion. I've very happy about that. Mom, well mom can be all over the place at times and even I have trouble with her. But from what I could hear I would think you have her half round your little finger already. They really are super parents, you know."

"Well, I did have to try. It's handy to have parental approval if you're whacking their daughter."

"Don't be crude. You should try to like them as personalities, rather than try to score high approval ratings."

"That was a joke."

"Was it?"

"Yeah."

"Then come here."

"I'm not going anywhere with your hefty frame all over me."

"Hefty! My God you are rude. I scarcely have an inch of extra flesh on my body apart from my tits."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Oh, by the way - it's your turn to meet the parent in the morning. Mum was due back from Surfers Paradise in Queensland about now, and I promised I would have you around at her place for breakfast at 8:00."

"Oh my God, I can't go. My hair, my finger nails..."

"Yeah, yeah and you'll need a new dress, new shoes and a new bag. Calm down. Mum is mum. She'll never notice."

"Oh won't she? Those first thirty seconds under her gaze mean everything to me. Women are not blind and easy pushovers like men. They don't change their minds about a prospective daughter-in-law if she flunks the initial appraisal."

Merrick couldn't let go. "How do you know that?"

"I just know."

"But that's an illogical response."

"I know, that's why women can be difficult to deal with."

That was a big invitation to go for a king hit, but Merrick wisely decided to leave it. Almost sulking he had a sudden thought. "What's the time please, honey?"

Honey replied it was three to midnight.

Merrick picked up his cell phone.

"Who are you phoning at this time of night?"

"Mrs Stewart."

"Who's Mrs Stewart?"

"My, I mean our cleaning lady."

"Is she late for work," asked Kirsty tartly, then began giggling at her joke.

"Ha-ha. No, I'm just in time. She often tells me she reads in bed till midnight then gets up at 6:00. Her husband sleeps in another room because she snores."

"Good heavens, your cleaning lady shares intimacies like that?"

"Yes, and even started on vaginal bleeding one day until I disappeared; she got the message."

"Hullo Mrs Stewart. Merrick here, calling just before lights out time."

"It's so lovely to hear from you. I hope you are well?"

"I'm fine thank you. And you? And Buster?"

"He's a little bound up."

Merrick screwed up his face. "Oh dear – then pile fresh fruit into him plus plenty of prunes and water. Look, a crisis has arisen. You know how you told me that you're ever so excited about meeting Kirsty? Well as a big favor could you do her hair early in the morning. Her hair looks OK to me and so do her fingernails, but she says they both are in a mess and I've just told her that she's meeting mum for the first time at 8:00 in the morning. I told her not to worry as mum won't notice, that mum is just mum."

"Don't by a prat Merrick. In the first thirty seconds your mother will decide whether or not this woman is right for you."

"The first thirty seconds you say – have you been speaking to Kirsty? Of course, I know you haven't. It's just that Kirsty used almost those exact words."

Mrs Stewart went on and on about the instinctive intelligence of women and their ability to reading bonding signals and to deal with hostilitites.

"Right, women don't have to be told, they just know," Merrick said agreeably, eager to terminate the call. "Well, it has been a privilege receiving this glimpse into the second world of women. What time should I bring her round?"

"I don't want her here with Buster sneezing all over your perfect flower as you called her and leering at her breasts."

"How do you know Buster will leer? I didn't know all men did that - I thought I was an exception. Incidentally, why did you call Kirsty my perfect flower?"

"You described her as that. It's also a summary of all your lovestruck babblings over the weeks before she arrived."

Merrick now looked embarrassed. "Well, I'm sorry about that; I must have bored you."

"It's a privilege hearing a man go on about a woman like that."

"Why thank you, Mrs Stewart; I take that as a supreme compliment. Good night Mrs Stewart."

Kirsty eyed him keenly. "I heard what she said. You described me as your perfect flower to your cleaning lady?"

"More or less, apparently."

"She agrees about the need for a good first impression on a prospective mother-in-law?"

Merrick hung his head and nodded.

"She says all men stare at women's breasts?"

Merrick lifted up his head with pride: "Yes, absolutely, which makes me normal."

"Finally, Mrs Mop is coming over here to do my hair and finger-nails? Oh Merrick, how could you?"

"Wait, wait. No tears! She's been a hairdresser for forty-seven years and still works at it every Monday and Fridays, has a loyal clientele and a waiting list the saloon owner told me is half a mile long. She still wins awards and still learns modern techniques. She cleans my - I mean our house - on Wednesday mornings and the Mathieson's house down the road in the afternoons as she loves cleaning but is sick of hairdressing. She only does hairdressing to get out of the house and away from Buster her moaning husband."

Kirsty looked at him through greatly narrowed eyes: "Merrick, I'm finding this hard to believe. It is impossible that a Mrs Mop, the person you have described, can exist. Should you not admit to me that you have gone over the top a tad?"

"No, of course not."

"It's not fair on me to raise my expectations to unrealistic levels."

"I know darling; I'll tell you what. If you honestly conclude that I have been lying about this I promise not to make any sexual demand on you for one week."

"Um, that is excessive. What about one night?"

"Very well, done. But I'm not making a counter bet because you hate losing."

"Well now, how can I possibly lose - you have nominated me as sole judge."

Mrs Stewart arrived next morning, gushing on about Kirsty's flawless skin, the quality of her hair, the pert shape of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach and her shapely bum, as she called it.

Poor Kirsty. Her face was flaming red. She heard Mrs Stewart slurp her coffee and wondered whether she usually drank it out of the saucer. While Merrick was chatting to Mrs Stewart, Kirsty took a good look at her: A terrible skin, breasts hanging down to her pot belly and an as ass that could politely be called 'comfortable'. A sense of impending doom consumed Kirsty.

Mrs Stewart lifted a carton of bits and pieces on to the table, and shooed Merrick from the room. It was a common as muck beer carton.

As soon as Mrs Stewart swept the fingers of her right hand through Kirsty's hair Kirsty's heart lifted. Those fingers seemed to shimmer through the hair. They then moved over to the kitchen sink where the hair was washed, and only briefly massaged before they returned to the kitchen chair pulled well clear of the table.

Mrs Stewart walked around Kirsty completely to return facing Kirsty and then she took two steps backwards. She stood with her left arm folded over her belly and supporting the elbow of her right hand, the index finger of that right hand resting lightly on her right cheek. Mrs Stewart's eyes riveted on Kirsty's face and hair, and all she said was, "Hmmmm."

Kirsty silently shouted, " Hallelijah!" If Merrick had the sense to walk through the door right at the moment he was welcome to have her, right on the floor and right in front of Mrs Stewart she fantasized. She'd jumped to an undeniable conclusion that everything was going to be all right and that for the first time, or at least as far as she knew it would have been the first time, Merrick had not been lying to her. Her eyes remain closed as she heard Mrs Stewart rummage around the carton, probably for scissors. Yes, scissors. They were very sharp and passed through her hair in a hand that was butterfly light.

"What's he like in bed, love. I've often wondered?"

Kirsty's eyes flew open...

Twenty-nine minutes later with the hair blower switched off, Mrs Stewart screamed out, "Come and have a look at your darling."

Merrick bounced in confidently, grinned and said, "I guess it's sex tonight after all."

"At your ages I thought you would have it was also at noon," Mrs Stewart said, conversationally.

Kirsty fluttered her eyelids at Merrick, rolling her eyes at the same time. He got the message and smoothly changed the subject as Mrs Stewart worked on Kirsty's nails.

He began magnificently: "Do you like the result darling? No need to be shy if you are critical because Mrs Stewart is oblivious to criticism or reprimands."

"It's equal to the best my hairdressers in New York have done for me – a fantastic cut and shape," Kirstly enthused.

"I bet you were nervous about an old tart like me taking to your hair with a pair of scissors," chortled Mrs Stewart.

"N-o-o," began Kirsty, realizing that Merrick would now learn that she sometimes lied. She wanted to reach up and hug him when he cut in smoothly: "I sang your praises high and loud Mrs Stewart," he said. "Kirsty came to you with great expectations."

"Huh?" said Mrs Stewart. "I came to Kirsty actually, but I get the drift. I'll do your hair and nails regularly for you now if you wish, Kirsty. I love being around sexy people. That's the reason why I've been a house cleaner for his nibs here. Now your shoes you'll be wearing to breakfast love, do they need cleaning? I'll attend to them if they do."

"No thank you Mrs Stewart. I will be wearing a new pair. I must look my best."

"Well, if she's going looking immaculate I want you to dress up too, my lad. No jeans and Sloppy Joe."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kirsty smiled sweetly at this remarkable woman. "How much do I owe you, Mrs Stewart? Will eighty dollars cover it or do you want more?"

"Good heavens, girl. Put your money away. This was an emergency so there's no charge. In future a hair and nails combo will cost you $45 if I do it here as I get the whole fee and pay no tax."

"That's very generous of you, Mrs Stewart."

"Call me Milly, honey, but he can keep on calling me Mrs Stewart; I like receiving respect from younger men."

An idea appeared to be forming within Kirsty.

"Mrs Stewart, do you and your husband like dancing?"

"I do, but that old coon won't go out at nights, so I miss out unless there is a girls' night out organized at the saloon; I usually get invited because most of them respect me."

"Well, this Sunday night would you be the guest of Merrick and me at a dine and dance - I just feel the need to reward you in some way for preparing me so beautifully for my imminent appraisal."

"Invited to a restaurant and at night. Oooh, I say. Yes dear, I'd be honored, but I must ask that you take me home because I do tend to over-imbibe at such functions."

"Collected and returned in a door-to-door service guaranteed," Merrick grinned, "but bring your husband. Tell him women showing lots of tit will be there. He'll go stale on you if he doesn't get out and about."

"That's lovely," trilled Mrs Stewart. "Right you two, your time is running out. Off and get ready. You don't leave this house unless you pass my inspection."

Kirsty, standing still completely nude while Merrick sprayed perfume over her entire body, said: "That was an unbelievable experience, darling. I still am shaking my head. She is so good."

"You are on a learning curve, darling. Kiwis are amongst the world's most creative people when given raw materials or implements. They even amaze the new technology gurus in the way they can adapt new hardware and software."

"That's very interesting darling, but please hurry. Your steel blue suit would be best, I think."

"Me wear a suit to my mother's house? That simply will not do. She will be convinced that you have bewitched me – that is, providing she recognizes me. No, a smart open neck shirt and sharp creased trousers finished off by shiny shoes. That passes mum's muster."

"I'm not sure what you are talking about, but pl-e-a-s-e dress and act to meet her highest expectations of you."

"I will."

They paraded before Mrs Stewart, who thought Kristy looked stunning.

"Those breasts dears, you height, your hair. You make me go weak at the knees," she said, making Kirsty feel a little edgy.

"Passed with honors," decreed Mrs Stewart.

She then inspected Merrick. "Nice butt," she said, giving it a playful slap. Then she cried, "Go replace those shoes - wear black for God's sake!"

"I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen," said Kirsty, as Merrick slunk off to change his shoes.

"Continue to apply the pressure, my love," advised Mrs Stewart. "Men really have little in the way of good taste; they must be manipulated."

"Thank you, Milly, responded Kirsty. "You are a wonderful mine of information."

"When sex leaves our lives, that is one of our few relevant functions," replied Mrs Stewart, with profound certainty that rocked Kirsty.

"Make sure that you build your foundation of marriage around more levels than sex," Mrs Stewart said, giving Kirsty a huge wink. "You know, you are very much like the daughter we never had. We had a son, but he no longer wishes to know us."

Walking up to Merrick, now preppy in black shoes, Kirsty announced that she was prepared as she ever could be for the head-to-head meeting. She surprised herself at baring her soul: "Thank you darling, for assisting me in my moment of need."

Merrick only vaguely knew what she was on about, whereas Kirsty knew, even in this modern technological age, she was being swept up in one of the most ancient rituals of mankind: meeting the prospective mother-in-law.

Kirsty was nervous and quiet in the drive over to the North Shore so Merrick left her to her thoughts and instead amused himself by trying to imagine what was passing through his mother's mind.

The reality was that Mrs Linda Jamieson was an ageing widow who'd married a man with the unflattering name of Basil, now deceased. Linda Jamieson was very aware that her son Merrick had allowed one marriage to slip through his hands and now he was attempting to achieve a more successful replay.

Merrick sighed as he continued to think about his mother. She regarded his previous wife as being more or less a self-ingratiating cow and it was unlikely that this new candidate would be any better, particularly as she was an American - and not only that - a New Yorker. In Linda's mind this was an unbalanced relationship and was doomed. Not only that but Linda would be consumed with jealousy when she saw her son's new lady. Not only did the New Yorker sport a flash new haircut but her finger-nails were done to perfection and she was dressed in clothes to die for.

Actually, thought Merrick, would the fingernails be noticed? His mother would certainly notice according to the scheming wench at his side, togged up in clothes more suited for a revival Sunday School picnic. He then imagined his mother pulling her right hand up near her face and looking at the jagged, bitten nails. She would then scowl, what right has this American intruder to outdress and outshine me!