Letter to Laetitia:
Love Call.
2ba_john_rah_part_03
As far as I can tell, if you say there is 60,000,000 tax payers in Germany, which there aren’t. There are 80,000,000 people, when a government pisses away 60 billion, those would be American billions, not British, my guess is that cost each person 1,000 marks. I figured a billion has 9 0’s. That’s how I remember it. And that figures to 1,000 as well. Of course some pay more and some pay less but it makes you wonder if you would rather piss away 1,000 marks a year rather than the government doing it for you. Of course they have nothing better to do with their time so maybe we let them do it. We want them to have fun and enjoy their work. After all, if they weren’t pissing away money, they could be doing something worse.
Let’s get back to Stan.
Stan pulled up in the Steinholz Oil parking lot at 16:00 hrs and waited for Mr. Barker. He knew he had a hour or more to wait but he was restless and wanted to get started. He focuses his camera on Mr. Barker’s Red Dino, a Ferrari from the late 60’s or early 70’s. It was a piece of artwork, the car. Stan took a picture and noted in his book. – 16:07 Ferrari, make poster -, license US 466.
"What?”
He underlined US. It wasn’t unusual to see US plates in Germany. The Americans were kind enough to bomb the piss out of the country then come in and start up businesses. There were still many Americans being paid by the German tax marks, Euro now, or likely American dollars, to make sure the Germans were becoming American and not Nazis. Stan was sure neither was so good.
"But we aren’t here to discuss politics,” Stan said to Pig.
Pig licked Stan’s face.
Stan had to admit to himself that he was enjoying the company of Pig.
"A big motherfuckin’ Rotweiler with his jaws centimeters from my neck.”
Pig nibbled lightly on Stans neck. Something Stan would never thought he could cope with but Pig did it with affection.
"Let me roll a joint now.”
Stan rolled a joint with just enough grass to have the taste.
"Did you know, where I come from, you don’t mix grass and tobacco.”
Pig didn’t seem to care.
Stan lit his joint and opened a can of Coke that he had in the freezer for two hours before he left the house. He liked having cold Coke and smooth grass and mild tobacco with little perfume. It’s what made his job bearable. He knew it was ridiculous, like being addicted to coffee and cigarettes but he couldn’t drink much coffee before he became nervous and he didn’t like the taste of cigarettes.
He put a tape in knowing full well his tape deck hadn’t worked for months. He just wanted to try.
"Still broken.”
Pig seemed to have lost interest and had curled up on the seat.
"This is a nice tree.”
Stan was happy his car was under a tree. He liked trees and hated sitting in the car under a hot sun. Sometimes he had to when there were no trees when he wanted to sit and wait for a picture to come long.
"I bet you that’s her.”
Stan picked up his camera and took a few pictures of a buxom blond in a short dress that had come out of the office, or the offices, but she seemed to be the one. If she wasn’t, she still made a nice picture.
Stan had learned to trust his hunches. Usually he didn’t have much else to go on.
"Pig, what do you think? Oh, shit, this stinks already and I don’t have anything.”
Connie, he was free to call her Connie when she couldn’t hear him. Or maybe she preferred it. Maybe she did like him. It didn’t matter is she liked him. He was a private detective that had to take part time jobs to pay his rent. She was the daughter of billions of dollars or Euro.
He wrote down: ask Connie about ownership of the company, no, find out.
He took a picture of the woman talking to Connie. He would like to have them naked, he thought. Both.
"Let’s follow her today, Pig.”
Stan thought it made more sense to follow Mr. Baker but he knew Mr. Baker went for a squash game Thursday after work.
The woman said, "Biss Morgen.”
"Her German sucks, Pig.”
"Fuck!”
Stan missed the best picture. The woman dragged her finger over Mr. Bakers car when she went by. Just lightly. Like a gentle tentative touch on a penis that is standing hard and might be of some pleasure.
"Pig, I don’t know why I’m wasting my talent here, I should be working with the big guys.”
Pig didn’t seem to care about big or small. He seemed happy when he had a place to sleep, an easy going master, some food and a piss parade in the park.
"You’ve got it good, my boy.”
Stan waited for the woman to leave the parking lot before he started his car. Connie didn’t notice him drive by her, even though his car was the only car worth less than 100,000 in the executive parking lot.
"Executive, Pig. That’s when you can drop a hundred thousand into a car and park closest to the door.”
He knew the rest parked in the parking garage and were actually closer to the elevator but that wasn’t the point.
"So mystery woman, where do we go?”
_bunnie stop_
"Do you want to fill Book Five with a detective story?”
"I never wrote a detective story before, thought I’d try a little one.”
"But don’t forget Laetitia.”
"I’m writing it for her.”
"As long as she knows that.”
"So Pig, she’s going into the parking garage. Is she going to do some shopping or is she going to meet Mr. Baker?”
Stan parked where he could get a picture of the woman getting out of the car. The picture was pointless as evidence but he liked them for developing theories on his cases. There was never much to analyze in his peeping Tom job but it made his work more fun.
"At least she has German plates.”
She opened her door.
"Typical, these BMWs were designed for women who wanted to be sporty.”
Stan got a nice picture of her long leg getting out of the car, a great picture of her tits when she bent to fix the strap on her shoe. And an even better one of her ass after she had got out of the little car and inspected a piece of dust or water stain on the door.
"If she did a spread in Penthouse, I’d buy it.”
Stan hid the camera under some fabric shopping bags behind the seat and got out, remembering his supplies.
"Note pad, pen, papers, lighter tobacco with traces of grass. Okay, Pig, let’s go.”
Stan opened the door like a gentle chauffeur.
"We better have to use the leash now.”
Stan and Pig followed the woman at a fair distance. She stopped shortly at a few store windows but did not take time out to enter any stores.
"Not note worthy, Pig.”
She looked at her watch and went at a reasonable pace to her destination. It was obvious now that she had one and Stan was wondering why he didn’t have his camera. He knew because it was too bloody heavy to carry. The woman went to a cafe and sat down at a table with a few friends. She kissed them all before sitting down of course. It was a little present more than a greeting. Stan already felt he couldn’t get to like the woman. She was a bombshell. He could imagine having sex with her for 24 hours strait but he wouldn’t want to talk to her.
Of course he knew it wouldn’t come to that so it didn’t matter. Having a camera mattered enough that he thought he better go back to the camera store he had just passed and buy one.
Everyone in the store looked at his dog. Stan thought Pig might be making people nervous but when a woman standing asking him questions and raving on about how big and beautiful he was, Stan figured Pig wasn’t a problem.
He tried answering a few questions: sixty kilos, he eats more than me, I think he had papers but I don’t have them, almost 2 years, yes, yes. The woman started repeating herself so Stan pushed Pigs ass down so he would stay and be praised.
Sonderpreis 68 EURO, was the price of the small camera he chose.
"It’s a good camera for the price.”
"I believe it.”
Stan didn’t believe it. He was convinced most everything was junk. But he needed it. He got three roles of film and paid with his Visa card.
He managed to get out without too many more questions.
"Look Buddy, I hope you don’t start thinking you’re prettier than me just because all the woman want to touch you.”
Pig didn’t want to hear it. There was a tree to piss on.
Stan sat at a table where he could hear the conversation of the people where the woman was now company.
"That’s a kick ass dog,” someone at another table said.
Stan smiled. If he spoke it might result in conversation. He wanted his full concentration for the woman. he picked up the magazine someone had left on the table and pretended to read it. That was usually the best way to keep your head down in a cafe.
The waitress came with a small pale of water.
"Say thanks, Pig.”
"You call your dog Pig?”
"I didn’t name him. I’m his owner by default.”
"He’s beautiful.”
"Ya, that’s the only thing that bothers me about him. Otherwise he isn’t too much trouble.”
The waitress smiled at Stan. The smile told him he was beautiful as well. She did it so well that Stan believed her and felt elated.
"What would you like?”
Stan though of lying on his back on the beach with this woman sitting on his legs and very subtly, caressing his penis. If she caressed slowly, no one would really notice. Perhaps no one cared.
But what he really wanted was her to slip her hand under his bathing suit and put it around his penis, jerking him off ever so slowly until he finally ejaculated.
"Cappuccino with lots of chocolate.”
Stan unpacked his camera and looked at the pamphlet that explained all the operations. He was sure he could figure out how to put the film in without instructions but he was craving instructions. It was like freeing one’s self from decisions. He wondered if people really wanted freedom. Freedom could be pretty scary.
Stan wasn’t happy. He had little use for freedom as long as no one bothered him.
"Did you get a new camera?”
"Thanks. Ya, I always wanted one of those pocket cameras. Can I take your picture?”
"I’m not so photogenic,” she lied.
"I could prove otherwise.”
"Are you a photographer.”
"It’s a hobby. I have my own little dark room.”
"I can’t pose for you now.”
"No need. I don’t like my subjects to pose for me.”
She went to another table to take an order. Stan was feeling very happy with himself. He was actually chatting up a woman. Something he seldom had the opportunity to do.
"Do I ask her for a date,” he whispered to Pig.
Pig put his head on Stan’s lap.
Stan patted his head until he decided it was time to roll a joint. He was ready to light it when he saw the waitress standing at the door looking around at the customers. He took several pictures. Three of the waitress and two of the woman and her friends.
The waitress noticed and smiled. The woman didn’t. The woman was involved in a conversation about her sign and why she was so good at what she did with moons and stars backing up her explanation.
Stan got out his note pad.
The woman – brain fried. Over inflated empty ego, demands attention and people to tell her she’s good. Avoid if at all possible.
He put his note pad back in his jacket and lit his joint. He sprinkled sugar over the bubbled up milk. He liked to test the strength of the foam. A good cappuccino will support two spoons full of sugar for several minutes.
It was a good one. He liked that. He wrote in his notebook.
- tell waitress she makes a good cappuccino.
Stan was starting to worry about the woman and her group of friends. They spent their time telling things they knew, most of it fully wrong, and acting very important.
Stan added to the notebook.
- bunch of wankers.
They moved onto the auto industry finally.
The conversation only seemed to get worse and Stan concentrated on enjoying his cappuccino.
"Would you like anything else,” the waitress asked, bring Stan out of his day dream.
The woman was gone.
"No, I’ve got to go.”
He paid and when the waitress patted the dog, his dog, once again, he decided he better at least try.
"Could we, I mean, I’d like to take a few pictures, or, if you, I mean.”
"You are sweet.”
"I’m usually not so nervous when I talk to women.”
"But you are afraid I’ll turn you down.”
"Ya.”
"I’d love to.”
"Love to what.”
"See you.”
"I have to go now, can I call you?”
The waitress took the pen from Stan and wrote her number beside the cappuccino comment.
"I have the day off tomorrow and have to work at night,” she said.
"What time can I call?”
"After 10:00.”
"Okay.”
_bunnie stop_
I don’t want to be vain, but I like it when the girls like me. I mean I almost expect it. I’m about as good looking and fit as someone in my condition can be and I communicate on a basic level very well. I get the impression that one of them would like to know me better.
Of course it won’t happen. I live in a fantasy world now and reality is too hard for me to write.
"Topic?”
"Laetitia should adore me and love me.”
"Tell her.”
"I do one of those single adds.”
Well rounded, somewhat traveled, highly educated and dangerously clever mad genius tired of being loved for his good looks and charm, seeks a Laetitia who enjoys the slower things, like the sky, trees and whatnot and enjoys listening to her lover rave on. Some hysteria to be expected.
"And your cooking ability.”
"Oh yes, I’m good in the kitchen. Even have professional on the job training.”
"Music?”
"Can play a little blues.”
"Hobbies.”
"Creating new worlds.”
"Soccer?”
"No.”
"Should mention I prefer to have no radio or TV in my dwelling. Have aversion to the modern pop consumer idiot mentality of the masses.”
"That’s not good if you want a woman.”
"I still like grocery shopping.”
"If I was a woman, I don’t think I’d respond.”
"Then we forget blowing our own horn.”
Back to Stan.
Stan looked quickly through the market but couldn’t find the woman. Thinking he had enough to work on for the first night, he went back to his car.
The woman’s car was still in the garage. Stan had one more Coke that was still almost cold so he rolled a joint and watched how the clouds passed through the bits of blue that managed to find their way into the garage. Nothing to see but cars, concrete and a little more than a meter of blue. He concentrated on the blue knowing that somewhere under the blue was a canoe tied to a tree on a lonely lake and a fire was ready to start the evening meal. Fish he had just pulled from the water.
He could remember such events and wondered if he’d ever do it again, such a simple thing but so hard to come by.
But that wasn’t reality anymore. Reality was a busy city where there was always something happening. The dumb thing about it, he thought, was he didn’t know what was happening.
"And I don’t know what’s happening to me either, Pig. I’m becoming a lonely man.”
Stan looked back at Pig. Pig was breathing on Stan’s head. When Stan turned around, Pig licked his face.
"Thanks.”
Mr. Baker drove into the garage and parked by the woman’s car.
"I told you, Pig.”
Mr. Baker didn’t get out. It wasn’t easy to see him in his car because the sky behind the car was too bright. It looked like he was going to wait in his car. Stan noticed smoke coming out of the car.
"He’s smoking a joint, Pig.”
Pig didn’t seem to agree.
The woman came. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her. If anyone was on the same floor they would be, just like if Anna Nichole Smith was walking in the park, naked.
"Pig, she has an unbelievably perfect body and she falls directly into the blond stereo type. I mean, in my condition, I shouldn’t be so picky.”
The woman bent over to talk to Mr. Baker.
Stan took a picture with his zoom, zoomed in full. He was more interested in her ass and how her legs held it most perfectly. Stan was looking forward to getting some naked shots of her. Stan clicked again just as she stood turning in his direction. He clicked again then kept perfectly still hoping she hadn’t seen the camera. She looked around a bit more, being a perfect model for Stan, then bent over one more time.
"Does she know I’m here, Pig?”
She had her legs quite far apart, obviously to make the bending less strenuous, but Stan had a full view of her bare legs about the nylons and a most perfect little bit of white holding what had to be a pussy to die for, neatly tight between her ass cheeks.
Stan clicked each time she moved a muscle. He clicked till the film was full.
"Shit. Idiot.”
He quickly changed the film. He had to do it often enough to know he would be ready to shoot in less than a minute but he know that that was usually the one minute when you should be watching. They were likely kissing but there was no point in looking until the camera was ready.
"Fuck.”
She was standing up again and turning away from Mr. Baker. The woman got into her own car and played a little with her hair while she waited for Mr. Baker to leave.
Stan knew they had kissed. He hadn’t seen it and he didn’t have it on film. he knew it was his own fault for being a perverted peeping Tom but he couldn’t help himself.
"The woman is not real, Pig. She is too perfect. Even though we heard her talking nonsense with her pseudo pop esoteric friends, she is too in control to be dumb. And I’m not saying that because I want to have my head melted between her legs. I want that even is she was really dumb. Or brain dead. I mean any man with hormones would gladly be her slave.”
He thought for a while until the woman started her car.
"But I’m afraid, Pig, that only makes it worse.”
Stan figured she was playing Mr. Baker. Partly because he didn’t want to believe such a woman liked such a stereo typical man but mostly because, who the fuck was she that she wanted the husband of the daughter of Steinholz Oil.”
"She wants money, Pig. Not him, not her job at Steinholz, she has a big plan.”
The only plan Stan could think of involved the death of at least two people. Mr. Steinholz and Connie. That kind of thing happened on TV, not in Stan’s job.
I think that a good place for a break, Laetitia. I hadn’t really intended to take this too far but it seems to want me to tell it. It’s not every day that a story wants to be told so I have to see it through. I’m trying not to think too much about what will happen. I want it to happen strait out of my pen. I’ve been writing quite a bit this way for the last 8 years or so. No plans, no editing, no worries what comes or if it doesn’t. Sometime it is all pointless but it has got me to where I am and that’s a story teller.
These days a storyteller is no big deal. Anyone can sit down and write a novel these days. Back a few thousand years ago it was different. One had no printing press. Few could read, almost no one could write, and there was no bloody paper. Or Internet.
I think we live in brilliant times, sure, we make a mess of the place, but we also have thousands of years of knowledge and stories recorded. For all to read. That makes me all gibbily to think of it. We don’t have to be ignorant if we don’t want to be.
For this I would take off my hat if I had one. And no matter how much I satirize America or any other country, I still have some real adoration for countries with free press.
_bunnie stop_
I think we have the first of October in a couple hours. I didn’t mention that I had a pretty good day. My run was cool. Even shopping was fun. The dentist was even fun. Fun at the dentist. It helps that he has women there that finished grinding my new temporary filling put her breast on my head a few times. It wasn’t really that sexual more just very private friendly. I’ve never had a smile from her. I get the impression her life is not so happy. Today was the first time in my mouth and after and hour of grinding, sometimes quite painful because I don’t like needles in my mouth if I don’t have to have them, it was a present, that she grounded me with her breasts.
That’s a nice thing about breasts. They can be erotic or they can be just a warm safe haven. Even for a grown man. Sometimes the best thing is a breast.
That’s what I wouldn’t mind more often. A breast from a woman who may not necessarily understand all my troubles, but will let me hold her tight to feel connection. I mean, sure I like sex, but falling asleep with you beside me, our naked bodies sharing touch, that’s my dream.
But alas, the 5th book is just reaching the halfway point and I’ve yet to type it. I don’t know if the letter will ever reach you. Perhaps you manager will burn if for your protection. I see his point. But he’s more worried about himself than you.
I realized who Connie is. I don’t mean in the real world, in the fantasy world in my head.
"What’ in your head.”
"A plethora of phantasmagoric phantoms.”
I often get tired around this time. i could go to bed but I would be wide awake in half an hour.
Stan was again sitting in his car in the executive parking lot of Steinholz Oil. He was sure he was going to make a book of the pictures he had taken of the women. He had followed her to her flat but didn’t get any good shots. By the time he figured out where her window could be seen from, she was already in bed. Alone.
It was just as well. The pictures he developed of the woman were so good he had to masturbate before he could sleep.
He wanted to ask Connie a few questions, but he wasn’t quite ready to see her. Stan felt he had cheated on her by indulging in her, what had to be, double crossing friend.
"Pig, I would be such a pig if I was loved by a woman like, well, Connie. I mean this Baker guy has to be an idiot. Connie is miles ahead of her.”
A bus pulled into the parking lot.
"What do we have here.”
The bus was full. Stan watched as the man stepped off the bus to be greeted by the woman. They weren’t businessmen. Businessmen don’t come by the busload.
"Business school?”
It didn’t matter. Stan saw it as his opportunity to get in the building without having to talk to people.
"I won’t be long, Pig.”
Stan waited till the woman had entered the vestibule, then he hurried to join with the last fellow getting off the bus. Obviously the teacher.
"Hi, I’m Stan, I’m working on a thesis for my diploma work about the oil cartel and heard from one of your students that you have a guided tour today and was hoping you could let me just tag along.”
Stan know his story was dumb but the man didn’t send him away.
"Von mir aus,” he said. Which means he didn’t have a problem with the idea. But it was clear he didn’t want to talk farther.
Laetitia, I have a dajavoo thing here thinking I’ve already had this story. But it can’t be so we go on.
Stan and the teacher had caught up with the rest of the students. When he was inside and the woman started talking, Stan was glad he wasn’t stoned yet. He kept thinking of her soft skin on either side of the little bit of white cotton holding her...
"I’d pay good money to have naked shots of her,” someone whispered to him.
"Forget it, I’m not stoned.”
"What?”
"How much?”
He smiled back. The woman smiled at Stan in a way that she seemed to be stripping him. She could read him maybe even better than he could read her.
"And as we go through, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She was still looking at Stand in a way that demanded that he would be the first to ask. It was his job to set the tone. Stan was starting to think he shouldn’t have joined the class. He was obviously an outsider.
"What’s your name?”
Okay, Laetitia, this is what I’d like to call her: Barbaralba. Can I do that? I was actually thinking Connie was Barbaralba. Ya, I’ll explain later, but this woman is not Barbaralba. I know a few things about the woman that I can’t fit into the story yet but I can tell you, she isn’t a close friend of Barbaralba. That she is unbelievably beautiful only makes it worse for Stan. He would not have taken an interest in her had she been only good looking and a little more modest. That he was being paid to find out about Mr. Baker wasn’t even a concern when Stan watched this woman. He didn’t want to desire her, he was being a slave to his condition: male, hetero.
So, what do we do for a name?
And guess what else. Stan isn’t going to believe – let me tell it in the story. I take a short brake and try to find a name for this woman.
_bunnie stop_
by Joanne B. Washington
read on. 2ba_john_rah_part_04
© 2001 | the jose wombat project webmaster@josewombat.com