Friday, September 11, 2015

Notes - Pass Around Joy

The ride home with the Nanny was indeed frosty. Not only since I had driven there with the windows rolled down to air out the spacious double couch design of the Bonneville hoping that the scent of other women and male splooge would be whisked away on the wind. Now with the heater on the atmosphere within was still frosty.

“So that guy must be used to giving their Nannie’s a ride home.” I said sheepishly.

“No. I am their first nanny.” she said coldly, adding “They had an Au Pair before me.”

“An oh pair of what?” I asked trying to weasel my way through with humor.

Au Pair. A. U.  P. A. I. R. silly.” The Nanny giggled after a brief attempt not to be thawed. “Some foreign chick that lived in and cared for the kids.” she concluded.

“Cozy.” Was all that I could say as I imagined a foreign floozy in the family home.

“Maybe too cozy.” The Nanny added cryptically.

Not cryptically enough as the tableau of the wife looking anxiously after the hubby and the Nanny out the window as they headed for his car when I arrived. The plot was thickening.

I glanced over and noticed just how hot she looked in her Nanny uniform. Especially since I knew what this rather prim and proper garb obscured. I am sure her middle aged male client had noticed the same. I knew her female client knew.

No generation gap there.

As the Bonneville cut through the frosty night the Nanny curled up next to me in he front seat and place her head on my shoulder just where Beverly had cuddled an hour earlier. Only the Nanny had shorter, lighter, and certainly better maintained coiffer than the Bev.

“I know it’s late, but can we go to your place for a bit.” She cooed” Maybe moke -a joint.” she said in mock baby talk stoner jargon we had adopted.

“I can do better than that.,” as I pulled one out of my pocket and pushed the car cigarette lighter in. As the smoke wafted through the cabin I knew my scent and betrayal trail had been covered.

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Purveyor of paralogical compliance to verbally mediated reality, artisanal smut, with a pinch of full time flâneur tossed in to taste.