Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
- 3 years ago
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Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 02 free porn video
‘Ladies! Ted, Peter and I are off for a Chinese meal and then we’re going to the trots. Ted has some hot tips so perhaps we can win tonight. Would you like to join us?’
Ignoring Jennifer’s coldness and responding to the nods and warmth of Karen and Ruth he continued. ‘That’s settled then. We’re going to the trots.’
Noticing Jennifer’s expression, Bob quickly added for her benefit, ‘Harness Racing. First we’ll have a Chinese meal and then go to the trots.’ He made sure everyone knew, so enthusiastically he began to pair everyone off.
Karen had held Jennifer to her promise to spend the evening with them but this was too much.
Their further planning paused as two uniformed police officers arrived to lead Peter off to a quiet corner where they questioned him about the scuffle.
When the two officers left, as quietly as they had arrived, the group made their way out of the bar but Jennifer was unimpressed by the planned entertainment. The stiffness with which she held herself and the reluctance with which she allowed Peter to take her arm made that painfully obvious. Her silence was icy. To her surprise, Peter understood.
His consideration for her feelings showed as he leant towards her to ask, ‘Would you rather not come? I’ll drive you home if you prefer. Frankly, trotting is not my scene either. The others have never managed to drag me along before. I’ve always found an excuse. Tonight will be my first time too.’
Astonished, Jennifer found herself becoming interested in Peter. She liked his sensitivity. Of course, it could be his stock-in-trade – his ‘line’ – but she resolved to wait and see so she allowed them to persuade her to go along.
‘I brought a trade-in which we finished detailing this afternoon. It’s big enough so everyone travels with me!’ Peter took command throwing his keys to the parking attendant.
Jennifer looked at him and laughed at Bob’s comments, ‘My God, Peter’s brought a bus to town. Bet the company is paying for the tightwad’s petrol. Peter, you lead, we’ll follow, you bloody bossy bugger!’
Instead of a bus, a large people mover arrived and Peter made his two friends get in the rear seats before helping Karen and Ruth into the second row of seats. He then assisted Jennifer into the front seat.
‘I don’t want any misbehavior by you two hooligans. You’ll give me a bad name,’ was his excuse.
The trip to Chinatown was quick and as they walked the streets, Bob reassumed leadership.
‘You should all realize that Peter has a sixth sense when it comes to food. He may not drink much alcohol but he sure knows how to eat. Peter, select the restaurant and order for all of us.’
Unwilling to display his language abilities in front of Jennifer, Peter looked ill at ease. Yet, although obviously embarrassed, he made no comment. Instead, he studied the Chinese signs above the shop doorways as if reading them.
Peter realized he must do as Bob had requested.
This was not the time to pretend ignorance. Suddenly he dived into a non-descript doorway and led the way up a flight of narrow creaky stairs.
Jennifer drew back. There were no tablecloths and there was no sign of English anywhere. The place was garish with its red lanterns, while in the far corner was an altar where joss sticks burned. Although not a single European face was visible, Peter seemed perfectly at home.
The headwaiter, in excruciating English, tried to inform them no tables were available but Peter would have none of it, answering in a bark of guttural Chinese that seemed to flow endlessly off his tongue. Backing away, the waiter rushed off to the kitchen while Peter slowly made his way to the altar in the corner where he knelt. Lighting three joss sticks he seemed to bow his head in prayer, completely ignoring his party.
‘Oh god, he’s off again. Stop looking worried, Jennifer, Peter is absolutely harmless but he sometimes thinks he is more Chinese than the Chinese.’ Ted’s quiet explanation seemed to remove Jennifer’s apprehension. ‘Just go with the flow and we’ll have a Chinese meal such as you have never experienced and is never on a menu.’
Charmed by Ted’s kindly explanation Jennifer listened to the cacophony of Chinese voices.
‘He may seem strange – bloody strange at times – but he will never hurt you. Tonight is the first time I’ve ever seen him with a woman. For the first time since I have known him he demanded that we introduce him to a woman – you!’
The manager arrived, his face an inscrutable mask, but catching sight of Peter praying, he waited patiently. As Peter rose and turned to join his party that mask broke into a wide smile of pleasure and the manager led the noisy party into a back room furnished with a long, heavily carved table, and high-backed ornately-carved chairs. Carefully, he sat Peter at the head of the table. Jennifer he sat at Peter’s right, but allowed the others to sit where they wished. He clapped his hands and waiters appeared at Peter’s side.
With no attention to the menu, Peter began a rattle fire conversation with a waiter, obviously discussing the order.
Yet, it was impossible for Jennifer to decide whether Peter’s conversation with the waiters was affable or impolite. The guttural sibilants and implosive grunts of the language combined with her inability to read any facial reactions made it impossible to guess the mood of the conversation.
Jennifer was completely nonplussed. This strange man with the piercing blue eyes, formerly so attentive and so considerate, had changed. Now he seemed to be so authoritarian – almost tyrannical in his supervision of the meal order. Giving his full attention to the waiter, he even took the order pad to check what he had written. Peter seemed to correct some items as if he could read the Chinese characters.
He was not boasting of his prowess, he was not boasting of his proficiency in another language he was just at home, perfectly comfortable in this second culture.
Overhearing a whispered comment by one of the waiters, ‘The Little One is here,’ Jennifer looked around the table to try to discover The Little One. Was The Little One either of her two friends who were far from being giants? It could not possibly be Bob or Ted who were not small. It certainly was not the big bear of a man, Peter. She wasn’t sure who carried this unusual title. Surely, they were not applying that name to her.
‘Please forgive me. I took the liberty of ordering for you.’ The waiters had scurried away and Peter leant towards Jennifer. ‘I really have tried to order a meal that suits your pallet and says thanks for coming with me tonight. I used my experience in Chinese Cuisine to order some dishes that normally are not available. I hope you enjoy the meal.’
Jennifer just nodded.
One waiter placed a petite bowl of chilies floating in oil smelling of fish before Peter.
After filling the bowl with soy sauce, he lifted it to his lips and began shoveling the chilies into his mouth. Expressionless but alert, the waiter was watching closely. Peter grunted ‘Ho’ as the final chili vanished into his mouth.
‘Hell, Peter I wish you would forget that party trick.’ Bob looked as if he was about to heave. ‘I come out in heat rashes just watching you! My throat burns and my stomach cramps with acute agony. Talk about heart-burn!’
Stunned, shuddering and speechless, Jennifer could only stare at Peter. She felt at a loss because only chopsticks were evident and she felt self-conscious. Looking at her friends, she sought some support but they were too engrossed playing up to their dinner companions.
Karen, much to the waiter’s disgust, was having a pretend sword fight with Bob using a chopstick while Ruth was leaning against Ted begging that he help her learn the use of chopsticks.
Jennifer knew that no help would be forthcoming from that direction.
Noticing her dismay, Pete
r grinned. ‘If you don’t use chopsticks you’ll starve,’ he laughed, scooping some rice into her bowl and some into his. Then, holding the bowl to his lips, he shoveled the rice into his mouth encouraging her to do the same. ‘Remember to make three shovels. That’s polite – more than that and you’re rude and come from Hong Kong.’
Laughing at her surprise, he gave full attention to the food.
Throughout the meal, he selected tidbits and held them to her lips to taste.
During the dinner, the manager leant over Jennifer to whisper. ‘You know he’s one of us,’ leaving her even more perplexed.
The table groaned with food – the only food that Jennifer declined was the roast duck complete with its head.
The discussion around the table was light-hearted and flirtatious and she knew her two new friends were intent on reeling in their dinner companions.
When the meal was nearly finished, the waiters placed a small bottle of Tiger Beer beside each member of the party and three huge plates of chili crab arrived.
Jennifer was perplexed because no waiter attempted to give her a beer.
Turning to her, Peter asked, ‘Will you do me the honor of sharing my beer, please?’
She could only nod.
The waiters filled everyone’s glass and Peter carefully divided his beer with her. She was surprised that nobody attempted to touch their glass until a waiter leant across to spin the duck’s head. When it stopped spinning the beak pointed at Peter.
Jennifer couldn’t believe what was happening. With her mind reeling she found it difficult to accept this unusual and unfamiliar situation.
Glass in hand, Peter stood. Suddenly the room filled with waiters and cooks, all smiling broadly, each with a glass in one hand and a bottle of Tiger Beer in the other.
‘Yam Seng!’ Peter roared, and he seemed to be bursting with pride and happiness as he downed his glass in one gulp.
‘Yam Seng!’ came from everyone in the room and Jennifer was astonished that she joined in. Her surprise continued when Peter fished a wad of pink envelopes from his pocket and handed one to each person in the room including each of the party. He bowed low to the manager with the words ‘Kong hee fatt choy,’ as he handed him his own pink envelope.
As he passed Jennifer her envelope, his words changed to ‘Happy New Year,’ and he smiled broadly.
Feeling this man had to be Eurasian because of his knowledge of Chinese customs and language, graciously she accepted the gift.
In the Powder Room before leaving the restaurant, Karen and Ruth conveyed how excited they were with the events of the evening.
‘What about you, Jennifer? What do you think of Peter?’ asked Karen.
Not wishing to give anything away Jennifer replied conservatively. ‘He seems all right.’
‘He looks a bit of a dream boat and not stingy at all. Did you notice he paid for the meal?’ Ruth continued. ‘But, he’s a bit too much of a wet blanket for me.’
‘Well, he’s all Jennifer’s.’ Karen tossed her head back and added warningly, ‘Just as long as you leave Bob alone. He’s mine.’
‘You can have him,’ was Jennifer’s reply. ‘Besides, Ruth seems completely absorbed by Ted and I would prefer to with Peter than either of the other two.’
‘Ted’s loaded,’ Ruth contributed blithely, ‘absolutely loaded.’
‘He’s merry but not drunk,’ Karen defended him. ‘Like Bob – just merry.’
‘I mean ‘rich’,’ lilted Ruth, turning circles and chanting gloatingly. ‘Money, money, money. Filthily, beautifully rich. His family has buckets and his grandfather’s already passed his to Ted.’
‘Half your luck.’ Karen was surprised and thoughtful. ‘I didn’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘We’d better not keep them waiting too long.’
Not a soul opened an envelope and suddenly it was time to go. No one made a comment about the meal and the strange surroundings although Jennifer was bursting with questions. The party boarded the vehicle as if in a trance.
Jennifer’s mind was still in confusion and her thoughts raced. The Chinese meal was like no other. The small servings, the ability to eat what she wanted – the meal was just incredible.
Was Peter a dancer? How could Peter be so fluent in Chinese? Why was he so welcome? Was he Christian or…? He seemed to worship at that shrine and he knew what to do. Now what was going to happen? She was off to the Trots so what strange plans had he in mind now?
Bob had called Jennifer the Ice Maiden. She was certainly cool. Not once during the meal was she more than frostily polite, her laughter no more than cool ripples.
Much more noise but not so strident met them at the Trotting Track.
Jennifer had seen these races at what she knew as Gymkhanas when she was growing up, but, back then, the betting had been absent. Here the fervor of gambling filled the air and ran through the crowd, building the excitement.
Karen clung to Bob’s arm while beseechingly raising innocent eyes to Ted to ask his advice on betting. Satisfied with intermittently diverting his attention from Ruth, she would then wheedle more funds from Bob to clinch her bets.
Bob was obviously overspending. Just as obviously, he expected to recoup any losses at the end of the evening in bed with Karen.
Ruth was winning. Ted had stuffed her handbag with notes and was pressing more money on her to double her bets.
Peter hoped the excitement of horses trotting under the arc lights would interest Jennifer but still she was unimpressed. Together they leant over a rail watching the gigs flash past.
‘I love the sound of the swishing tires and the thud, thud, thud of the hooves. There’s almost a symphonic poem in the strange musical sound. No wonder the lure of the track is strong for so many people. Even the sounds add to the excitement.’ Desperately he tried to break though Jennifer’s reserve.
With her green eyes even darker than before, she turned to him.
‘You haven’t made a single bet. Don’t let me spoil your fun.’
‘Spoil my fun?’ Peter almost choked. ‘I don’t know one end of a trotter from the other. I don’t gamble these days – I gambled enough in my early life,’ and his eyes clouded over until he shook his head. The inscrutable mask of the east slid down across his face before he spoke. His early life had taught him how to conceal his thoughts and feelings. ‘This really isn’t my idea of a night out. Like you, I followed the arrangements. Bob and Ted believe I need…’ He didn’t attempt to continue.
Jennifer stifled a giggle. ‘I thought you’re a gambler like the others.’
Even in the gloom away from the direct light of the over-head, arc lights Peter could sense her confusion as she threw him the next question, quickly turning to look back at the track.
‘What’s your idea of a good night?’
As he answered, Jennifer turned to face him again unable to believe his words.
‘I love opera, ballet and symphony concerts. I’ve two permanent seats at performances but never have I had any one in that second seat on my right. I’ve always been alone. However, I’d prefer that you didn’t tell the others. They think I’m strange enough as it is.’
Peter found himself opening his heart to this delicate young woman whose presence so unsettled him. ‘They think nothing of carousing into the early hours but I can’t drink – I get so sick. I’d much prefer a game of chess.’
Hmmm. He says he likes chess, ballet, opera and symphony concerts. Her eyes glittered with merriment as she studied the track before wheeling back to Peter. The lilt of her laughter softened her words.
‘You a chess player – that’s hard to imagine,’ she said aloud. Jennifer, however, didn’t voice her thoughts. She’d always wanted to play chess but had no one to teach her. Right now, she found the wicked twinkle in Peter’s eyes intriguing. He just had to be too good to be true. There had to be a flaw.
Peter had indeed told
the truth about the things that interested him most, but the evening had been so remarkable that Jennifer couldn’t bring herself to believe him yet. How could one man do some many things with such competence? She couldn’t possibly know his early years were not involved with family or with stable relationships so he had thrown himself into academia and sports.
The arrival of the others, a noisy, excited babbling group stopped any further conversation.
‘Come on, you two. Peter, you’re driving us to the Casino.’ Ted took over the leadership this time, trying to inspire Ruth who was clinging tightly to his arm.
At the casino as the others stood around the roulette table placing their bets and trying their luck, Peter stood back with Jennifer ruefully noting that both Ted and Bob were having much more success with their partners than he was.
The game was barely worth a glance and Peter was terrified Jennifer would want to bet. He stood close to her – believing a girl like her needed someone to take care of her. She didn’t seem to know anything much about a place like this.
Finally, she moved to a card game where Peter became engrossed in the movement of the expert card dealer’s hands as she fanned cards to the players gathered around the green baize covered table. Absorbed by her elegant fingers, fluttering lightly over the cards as they flew to the players with unerring accuracy, Peter noticed nothing else.
‘Haven’t you ever seen a low neckline before?’ Jennifer’s words, laden with irony, cut across Peter’s thoughts.
‘Good Lord.’ Peter didn’t realize that he’d been staring, but Jennifer’s comment certainly made him think. Low necklines – that was only for the suckers. However, he noticed that the more the dealer revealed as she leant forward, the more the attention of the players wavered and the more they lost.
‘Oops! Sorry – I was watching her hands. I’ve never seen anything like them.’ Peter laughed. ‘Not that I can deal. I usually manage to drop half the cards on the floor.’
Jennifer was even more worried. Was this man a fast thinker, some kind of nut or a person of values? There was still the trip home to get through. That would be the test. Would he suddenly become a lecher? If he did, what would she do? He was so strong. His body was attractive and he moved with a casual litheness that was entirely deceptive.
Is it safe to have him drive me home, she wondered? She didn’t have long to wait for an answer to her last question.
A scantily clad waitress served a drink to one of the players – an expensively suited, lecherous old fool who had been drooling over the dealer’s neckline. As the waitress leant forward to place the drink, one of his hands snaked across her shoulders to force her lower while the other hand thrust money deep into her blouse where his fingers lingered much too long.
‘Don’t!’ hissed Jennifer taking one look at Peter’s face before dragging him out of the casino into the fresh night air.
‘What was all that about?’ Peter looked perplexed.
‘I thought you were about to hit that old goat. The bouncers thought so too.’ Her comment surprised Peter. ‘I could feel your anger, and the flash in your eyes frightened me.’
‘Thanks for saving me.’ Laughing, Peter continued, ‘It’s just that I hate men who believe a woman is theirs because they have money or power. That waitress was merely doing her job but that old goat – as you called him – believed he had the right to maul her. You were right to drag me away from the situation. I wouldn’t relish tangling with those gorillas. They would have half murdered me.’
‘You’re a nut,’ laughed Jennifer.
‘Yes, but a harmless one,’ Peter replied, joining in the gaiety. His laugh was a glorious, joyful surge of merriment that burst over them before floating upwards while his blue eyes sparkled and the creases around his mouth added exclamation marks to his wide grin. He sobered and, staring into Jennifer’s eyes, as if to reinforce the idea he repeated the words. ‘A harmless one.’
Time paused for a moment before he gently took Jennifer’s hand and led her to the vehicle. She relaxed but had to ask one question. ‘How do you explain being fluent in Chinese?’
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