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Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 01

By: Egmont Grigor



This is a story of seven chapters set in a small city in New Zealand. The hero has an odd name, the reason for which is explained as Dio takes his less than a smooth journey into adulthood. He falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters and the reader will learn that Dio enjoys a life richer in many ways than most people around him. It is hinted but only hinted when he's between girlfriends two married females from schooldays are 'available' and a couple of brief encounters with other women are described. Dio is between girlfriends when he meets a damsel in distress on the roadside; her mother's car has a puncture. Dio helps out and the twenty year old Carra and Dio gradually come together in every way, merging two different life-styles. Before too long they will marry.

*

Dio Wellington's mother Nancy operated her small business from her home and died while receiving conventional medical treatment in hospital. For a while it was rumored that she had poisoned herself experimenting with a home-made remedy.

"Your mother was just unfortunate," Dio was told at the hospital when retrieving his mother's possessions. "Surgeons sometimes have a bad day on Mondays."

Dio was relieved the cause of death was medical misadventure rather than cancer; his mother had feared dying of cancer. Unfortunately she wasn't around to enjoy hearing that explanation.

Nancy was buried after a small service at the cemetery chapel attended by six people but not her long estranged husband. An hour after sadly returning home to an empty house Dio answered a knock on the door to two serious-faced police constables who asked if they could enter and talk to him.

After confirming Dio's identity, the woman constable, identified herself as Eve Burgess and gently advised him that his father had died. She reported that Owen Stanley Wellington had fallen down some steps when leaving a building near his home in Dunedin, dying instantly from head inquiries. There were no suspicious circumstances as there had been four witnesses, two of them passers-by. 

So Dio traveled south to Dunedin to attend the burial of his second parent in the same week, giving deep meaning to the expression, "I'm having a bad week." He coped stoically.

Death certificates show that Mrs Nancy Lydia Wellington died during surgery of uncontrollable hemorrhaging while Mr Owen Wellington died after accidentally falling down concrete steps (of a brothel, the funeral director told Dio) headlong into a concrete street pole. 

When the affairs of his parents settled, Dio was left in possession of his mom's modest home and $3212.00 as well as the need to clear debts against his father's estate totaling $1203.07.

Dio's run a bad luck continued when later the next month he was made redundant for the third time in four years, a rather depressing outcome for a thirty-two year old. But when you're down like that, the only way forward is upwards, and so it came to be.

"These are depressing times," he sighed aloud, watching birds in the overhanging tree. He was lounging outdoors at sunset on the terrace at the rear of his house – which he would continue calling his mother's house. 

He decided to play some lively music to chase away his blues, choosing one of his mother's favorite CDs, 'The Beach Boys' Greatest Hits'.

A telephone call ended his loneliness. It was a girlfriend Louise, who said Frank was about to cook a barbecue and they would like him to join them. "Come on Dio," Louise pleaded. "If you stay by yourself you'll start moping."

"Who me? Get away with you, I'm fine," he lied. 

"I'm cooking a roast on so I'll just scoff that, watch a bit of TV and have an early night. I'll call to see you at the restaurant later in the week. Bye." He disconnected before Louise began telling him she wouldn't take no for an answer; Louise was a bit like that.

Dio pulled out a pizza from the freezer and turned the oven to fan-bake. So, there was no roast; had he lied again?

"It's a roast pizza," he grinned. 

Dio, who'd entered employment with a bank as a trainee in IT (information technology), loved the work but hated the establishment. The bank branch was structured and operated somewhat like a high school for adults. So after two years he left to join the IT department of the town's biggest insurance office and three years later moved to an accountant's office to run the partnership's IT system. That activity and the work environment proved to be as boring as the bank so he moved to similar positions, yielding to two to three year migratory urges. This placed him with a trucking firm, a rural veterinarian practice then his old high school.

This cycle of drifting appeared to break when he was head-hunted to set up a Helpdesk for a huge retail discount warehouse that had decided to sell computers and peripherals. Setting up the desk and helping to educated staff to handle computer sales enquiries were new challenges, but then once the personnel were all trained the Helpdesk calls dwindled. At that point Dio realized that his role in that company had run its course so his 'termination' notice did not come as a surprise. 

Something will turn up, thought Dio, entering the bank where he used to work to deposit his redundancy check. Perhaps he should reconsider his career path? He had no idea where to start.

Two minutes later his mind had worked it out for him: To avoid the disheartening frequency of redundancies in the dog-eat-dog unstable computer industry, he'd set up in the business himself. He would specialize in home visits rather than compete head-on with company computer telephone support operators.

Two blocks down Main Street Dio turned into the inaptly named Cathedral Street (the town never had possessed such a lofty place of worship) and entered the offices of the Town & Country Messenger. He lodged an advertisement to run under Work Wanted section: 

Require help with your home computer? Phone Dio Helpdesk, 22 7251.

A week went by, with no calls for help. He checked the phone number in the advertisement; it was correct. So he reworded his advertisement: 

Expert technician will solve your home computing problems. Phone Dio Helpdesk, 22 7251.

Again no calls, not even unproductive enquiries.

Experiencing a sag in confidence, he looked up newspaper advertisements for companies wanting Helpdesk technicians. The only company advertising was the company that had taken over one of the businesses he'd formerly worked for and then had declared him and his team-mates redundant. It was unlikely the company would re-employ a worker it had made redundant, so he was at a dead-end. The only thing to do was to go out and have a good time.

* * *

Dio was a good looking, square-shouldered and even-tempered man standing six-one tall. Just the kind of young man for a girl to bring home to mother to appraise, but surprisingly that simply had not happened because of the insidious reputation of Dio's mum.

As an herbalist, Dio's mother Nancy had specialized in consulting with male patients. She named her only child after the Greek herbalist Pedanius Dioscorides (circa 40-90 AD) – the father of pharmacy. The youngster was unable to pronounce his own name Dioscorides so Nancy shortened it, much to the relief of everyone including herself and her wayward husband. 

"My Dio will make an ideal husband," his mother often said. To her regret, in her time no woman came to that same conclusion. Yet the rather handsome bachelor had little trouble finding dates. Mostly they were married women around his age or females of various ages who either had difficulty finding dates or, alternatively, while being attractively sunny and well-featured were between dates with 'real men'.

On this particular evening on his dead-end day he was buying gin and tonics for Sarisha Sharma, a lovely woman of part-Indian descent who was a taxi owner-driver. She possesses an incredible smile. During the evening Sarisha's smile transformed into a frown as she complained about the amount of 'filth' that was coming on to her home computer as unsolicited e-mails.

"Why would I want to extend my penis by up to four inches?" she complained. 

Dio had no idea.

"And why are people on the web so keen to sell me Viagra? I don't want it and sure as hell my husband doesn't need it – no way!"

Again he had no idea and switched the conversation to the old days when they used to go skinny dipping.

Sarisha was strong on nostalgia and with the gins lightening her load, she cheered Dio by suggesting, "We must go skinny dipping again this coming summer – just you and me on a beautiful clear evening."

Sarisha drove Dio to his home, kissed him passionately, and drove off at a steady twenty miles an hour. That was her way of attempting to avoid being stopped by police patrols for speeding and asked to take an alcohol breath-test.

As many people are aware, casual conversations occasionally turn over little gems. Dio was certainly aware of this and believed that chatting with his old girlfriend that evening turned over a gold nugget for him.

He walked into his home, thinking about Sarisha's reaction to spam. A few minutes later he sat on the kitchen bench and drafted a new advertisement. Next morning he phoned it to the newspaper: 

Hire me purge disgusting filth from your computer. Phone Dio, Mr Computer Cleaner, 22 7251.

Bingo! His advertisement was published the next morning and soon he was swamped with calls.

After two hours Dio was in danger of developing writer's cramp, from noting details of nineteen calls for help. After that incoming calls were recorded.

Dio brightly decided that when he found it necessary to re-run that ad he'd provide his email address rather than his phone number to make the administration more manageable.

Dio designed an A3 landscape sign on his computer and took the file to Jenny's Art Shop. One of Jenny's assistants printed out two copies on white adhesive-backed plastic. These Dio placed on to the doors of his posh Holden SS utility vehicle, known as a ute or in some other countries as a pick-up. The sign read: 'Mr Computer Cleaner' and included his email address.

With the stereo playing British drinking songs by 'The Two Tenors and a Soprano from Leeds', he set off to make his first calls as a self-employed computer trouble-shooter.

Mrs Iris Fullerton-Jones, 27 Saleyard Street 

"Oh, Dr Wellington, I am so glad that you do house calls," said Iris, a paper-thin woman in her eighties. Dio didn't attempt to correct her complimentary professional appellation.

"Our computer is full of filthy adult images which are keeping my poor Bert in a constant state of arousal which is unpardonable for a man in his eighties. Please exorcise the filth."

Dio was setting business policy as he went, so made a snap executive decision – money first.

"As I stated on the phone, house calls are sixty dollars – cash. And that's only for the first hour."

Iris put her hand into her apron pocket and pulled out a wad of banknotes. 

"You ought to charge more – it cost eighty bucks to call out the plumber," she said, counting out three $20 notes. "Are you going to give me a receipt?"

"No," said Dio evasively. "I am not registered for Goods and Services Tax and this call won't earn enough to place me into any declarable income tax bracket."

Iris led him to the room where the computer was located. Mr Fullerton-Jones was already seated at the computer, playing Minesweeper.

"Dr Wellington has come to clean the computer," she shouted.

"Eh?"

"Dr Wellington has come to clean the computer," she shrieked.

"But the cleaning lady does that on Thursday's," replied Bert, who had the appearance of a retired clergyman – thin, a bald pate with the remaining hair positioned like a halo, a sanctimonious expression and no collar on his shirt.

"Here son," Bert said, giving up his seat. "Clean away."

"Look, I need perfect understanding between the two of you," Dio said. "You want me to clear pornographic files from this computer. Is that correct?"

They both nodded, saying yes, with Bert apologizing for thinking that the visitor had arrived to dust the computer.

Dio closed down the game and didn't have to look far for filth. The wallpaper on the desktop was a curvaceous red-hair being ravaged by a creature from outer space that looked like a squid with huge wings.

"At first I thought it funny and then I saw the enormous size of its member and where it was about to penetrate," said Iris.

"It's pretty horny, isn't it?" said Bert. "Look at the size of those nipples. Perhaps you better replace it with something biblical, but save that image won't you?"

"No, trash it!" Iris said.

"Oh, all right. Trash it," Bert confirmed.

Forty minutes later the computer was 'clean' according to Dio's PornoSearch software and he tightened security and invoked the Internet Service Provider's spam filtering software.

"Thank you my boy," Bert said. "Now I can stop taking those damn cold showers."

Gloria Arbuckle, 88a Drenching Avenue

No one answered the door bell, and Dio was about to walk away when a woman in a checked shirt, jodhpurs and brown riding boots appeared from around the corner of the house carrying pruning shears and a basket of cut flowers. 

"Oh, Mr Help Desk, I presume. I won't be a minute. I shall just go in through the back door, wash my hands and then I'll be right with you."

Dio activated his stopwatch alarm.

Eventually Gloria opened the front door and led the way to the sunroom where the computer had to be booted and the curtains drawn. She cheerfully handed over $60 and did not ask for a receipt.

"I'm not worried about adult-rated stuff as although it's there I never look at it. My problem is this collection of photographs of horses that I have stored. I show them to some friends who are not as broad-minded as I am. They see some of the stallions are hanging long and get all hot and bothered. I understand it is possible to remove the dangle with a cut and paste operation, but I don't know how to do it. Here is as list of files where electronic surgery is required. I would also like you to show me how I can get these files of stallions in service to another part of my computer, out of sight of these women who can't accept nature for what it is."

"Certainly, Mrs Arbuckle; as good as done."

Dio downloaded a free, good quality image editing program. He tutored Miss Arbuckle step by step on how to trace around the edges of the dangle, cut and dispatch the selected item to recycle bin of the PC and then to copy and select pieces of adjoining background to fill in where selected pixels had been removed.

"Oh, look at that!" cried Miss Arbuckle, clapping. "What a brilliant surgeon you are."

"Practice makes perfect, Miss Arbuckle, and there are even some little tricks such as using the dodging tool to make the cut and paste area look even less interfered with."

They exchanged places and Miss Arbuckle removed dangles and replaced the cleared area with matching adjoining background.

"The more you do it the better you'll become," Dio said.

"Yes, I guess so; just as the stallion has learned," she said, with no hint of embarrassment.

Her interest gave Dio an idea.

"Flick up one of the mating graphics, please"

Up came a black stallion mounting a bay mare.

"Now, when you become expert at image editing you might like to work on removing the bay mare entirely, replacing the cleared area with background, and then using the paintbrush and other subtle editing tools to make the entire edited area look perfectly natural. Then you will be left with a marvelous-looking picture of a rearing stallion. Just look at the power of that hindquarter closest to the camera!"

Miss Arbuckle began saying that time must almost be up when Dio's watch alarm went.

"Is that enough for today?"

She nodded, inviting him to stay for morning tea. He declined, saying he had to press on.

Charles T. Bird, 4 Birch Crescent

Charles came to the door, munching food.

"Good, Mr Help Desk. You're just in time for coffee and muffins."

"Sorry, but I don't have time," replied Dio who thought Charles looked to be a retired Army officer.

"Ridiculous, you need building up," said the chef who worked the evening shift at the bowling club which offered cheap evening meals as it was licensed to sell liquor and operate gaming machines. "Start timing your sixty bucks an hour right now. My problem is only a small one. I hope to enjoy some intelligent conversation."

"What kind of car do you drive, Mr Bird?" Dio asked.

"Is that relevant to intelligent conversation?" Mr Bird countered. "Tell me about your name."

After downing black coffee and two raspberry and rhubarb muffins, Dio went to the computer in the lounge.

"My problem is with this babe that I have selected as wallpaper. Isn't she luscious?"

Dio agreed. "Perfection personified." That seemed to please Charles T. Bird. Dio wondered if the wife had flown the nest of this rather dogmatic man.

"Damn right she is and my wife prefers her to the ones looking like sluts. This one looks like a real princess. Anyway, notice the problem. Her face and breasts are on the left side of the screen and are covered by those blasted columns of icons while her bush and toes are right away from that clutter. I need this problem sorted."

"Right – easily done. Let's see what software you have. Ah, here's a good one, IrfanView. We will click on Start, then Control Panel, then select Display then choose Desktop – and there, see that highlighted name 'Rose' – that's the name of the file confirmed by the graphic produced here in smaller size on the screen. We need to open that file in IrfanView, but where do we find it? Somewhere on c:drive probably, but where?"

"We go to Start, and then search for the file 'Rose'. Still searching, there it is – c:windows\web\wallpaper. Now we open it in IrfanView. There, now we go to Image and select Horizontal Flip and, hey presto! I won't save it because I want you to now complete that whole process yourself."

After that was done Dio filled in the hour showing Charles how to tweak graphics to be used as wallpaper. 

"You can even scan a picture and then load it into IrfanView and enhance it or whatever and then under Options you can send it directly to your desktop as a change of wallpaper. Perhaps you could scan a photo of Mrs Bird for your wallpaper?"

"Bloody hell – you haven't seen what Mavis looks like, have you?"

As they stood on the front terrace saying goodbye Mrs Bird drove up in a beautifully restored car, the vehicle easily outshining the driver for looks.

"You are a clever sod, aren't you," the client commented.

Dio's hunch was right – Charles T. Bird possessed a Ford Thunderbird or T-Bird as aficionados call them.

Evelyn McNamara, 331 Long Road

This caller was on the front lawn, staring up a tree anxiously.

"Oh thank goodness you've arrived," said the quite distressed woman. "Cuddles is up the tree and won't come down."

"Cuddles is a cat?"

"Yes."

"Cuddles will come down if you come with me into the house," Dio said confidently, hoping that the theory was correct. He did not wish to climb up a tree for the lady's flea-carrying moggy.

Evelyn limped in ahead of him, right lower leg bandaged. Dio was tempted to ask did Cuddles affectionately inflict that injury, but set his watch alarm instead.

"Sixty dollars is an awful lot of money," said Evelyn, closing the door behind him.

This woman was beginning to hack him off. 

"I could half-do the job you require for thirty dollars," he offered.

"Oh, goodness no, I want the work done properly," she said, peeling three $20 notes off a big wad of money.


Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 01



"A receipt please."

"Sorry, not registered for GST and this job won't push me into a bracket where I'll have to pay tax."

"I find that difficult to believe – my husband worked in the tax department."

A chill wafted through Dio's stomach, but he managed a weak smile.

"Does he still work there?"

"No, he's deceased."

"Working in the tax office takes it toll, doesn't it?"

"Yes, quite right. Those bastards in there led to his premature death by giving him all the rotten people to deal with. Now, where were we?"

To Dio's relief he heard scratching at the door. He opened it and the moggy came walking in stiffly and went straight to Evelyn and sniffed at her bandage.

"Cat's can be bastards at times," she snorted, thrusting her foot under the feline's belly and sending it through the air to land on an armchair several yards away, where it calmly began licking itself.

"Good shot," Dio said.

"I'm well practiced," smiled Evelyn, making Dio feel better disposed towards her. He wondered where she kept her ancient computer, perhaps one with its fifth or sixth upgrade. 

She motioned Dio to sit on the sofa and pulled a wireless-enabled laptop from a cupboard and placed it in front of him.

He was beginning to really like this full-of-surprises woman.

The front door opened and in walked a man, quite a bit younger than she was.

"This is Mr Hope, my lodger, and this is Dio which I guess is short for Diogenes."

The two men nodded and as Mr Hope walked past his landlady, he displayed a surprising degree of familiarity by casually running his hand over her behind. The gesture was almost concealed from Dio and while Evelyn had jumped slightly her face registered no reaction.

By this time the laptop had booted and Dio was given instructions.

"There's a lot of porn on the hard-disk, which is running out of space. Neither of us has a clue how to download stuff on to CD, so could you please teach me. For obvious reasons I cannot ask the supplier to do this for me, as they may be shocked."

"Let me see what's here?" Dio commented, heading into My Computer to select c:drive.

"I sincerely hope you are broad minded?" worried Evelyn.

"Oh yeah," commented Dio, noting that the 40GB hard disk was indeed almost full.

Evelyn may have assumed that comment was in reply to her question, not that it mattered. Dio no longer believe he would ever see anything digitally that would shock him profoundly.

It was easy to discover why the disc was almost full. Somebody had downloaded an enormous number of adult film clips as well as longish films – the biggest space gobbler being a film with the unlikely title of, "Orgasmic Wave Hits Birmingham".

Asking Evelyn to pay attention, he began the tutorial on how to download on to a CD.

"We've tried many times, without success," she confided, drawing her chair very close. "My word, that's a wonderful aftershave."

Dio moved his chair a little further away.

"Right, please hand me a blank CD disc."

Evelyn said she hadn't a clue what he was on about, and Dio immediately deduced that isolated the problem. The back-up endeavours of Evelyn and her 'tenant' had been attempted without a disk being inserted into the CD drive.

"But we don't possess any," confessed Evelyn, when the required article was patiently explained to her.

Dio went out to his vehicle and came back with a 10-pack.

"Bill!" shouted Evelyn. "You'd better come and have a look at this. My consultant has discovered the problem."

Mr Hope padded out wearing only black underpants and a black singlet. "Can't this be delayed – I've been waiting for you, Poppins."

"No it can't," she barked. "Sit and watch."

They followed Dio's instructions, each downloading film clip on to a CD. They were very happy to find how easy it was.

"Look," said Dio. "Buy more CDs, and once you have downloaded everything, delete all of the copied files from your CD and take the laptop back to your supplier. Ask him to remove the CD drive and replace it with a DVD drive. You'll get heaps more on DVD disks and the outlay will be really worthwhile expenditure."

"Oh, you have been ever so helpful," Evelyn simpered. "Is there some way I can reward you?"

"You've paid me, and I've delivered. Goodbye Evelyn, goodbye Mr Hope.

"It's been a pleasure having you in my home, Dio. You know, you are not charging enough. My electrician charges eight-five dollars an hour."

* * *

There was no lake alongside Lake Street, nor within five miles of it. Locals tended to call it Food and Bar Street and that's where Dio headed to relieve his hunger.

It was 11:30 as his V8 ute stopped outside Al's Steak and Salad Bar. He smiled, noting a striking red and white-striped taxi was parked in front of the premises, it's "Not for Hire" sign displayed.

He walked in and went to a booth where a woman sat alone. "May I join you, you sexy thing?" he asked.

"Oh Dio," said Sarisha with delight, pretending she hadn't seen him arriving. "What a pleasant surprise."

As he stooped to wiggle into the narrow opening between the table and high-back seat opposite her, Sarisha deftly undid the two top buttons of her shirt, pleased that today she was wearing her light-blue bra. She was aware that it contrasted beautifully with her dark olive skin. The thought of Dio lying touching that skin made her begin to hyperventilate but there was a problem: These days Dio simply regarded himself as a very dear friend.

Possessing carnal thoughts about Dio did not send Sarisha into fits of guilt. She loved her husband Amol dearly but simply accepted that there was room in her life for the two men she'd loved – Amol and Dio. The three of them had been together since they could walk.

Even at that early age Sarisha Saltana as she was then, was exhibiting feminine characteristics, playing with dolls that had to have pink clothes and feeling as if she were slightly superior to her two male playmates. Until going to school as five-year-olds Amol and Dio had simply assumed that Sarisha was a boy because she did everything they did as good as they did, although she preferred to squat when urinating. 

She was fearsome when they tussled and eventually gained domination over Amol. On that occasion, when pinning him down during a one-on-one wrestling bout, she bit him triumphantly on the left shoulder. Dio heard Amol's wail of pain but continued to covet a red tricycle being ridden by a little rich kid.

Living on the same street they played together and went to primary school together, becoming known locally as the Three Little Sods. Amol and Dio were separated from Sarisha when they entered high school, as the only option available was to attend single sex educational institutions. Gradually the gaps between the three widened as their interests diversified. 

All were better than average pupils academically and in sport Sarisha excelled in gymnastics, Amol in cycling and Dio in long distance running.

At seventeen, a toss of a coin decided which of the two boys would partner Sarisha at her school graduation dance. After the first toss she demanded the coin be tossed again, and then again, but either it was a double-headed coin or just luck, because each time Amol won the call.

"You are I are destined to be together," he said gallantly, and Sarisha smiled. But inside she cried as her eyes followed the departing Dio going to inspect the hot-rod of an expelled rich kid. 

During the exhilarating graduation evening she allowed Amol to grope her as that was part of school tradition for departing seniors, and the following Saturday night she allowed him to go very much further and the next time it was all the way.

On New Year's Day Amol left with his parents to holiday in California, so Sarisha planned her strategy: She would ask Dio to take her to the movies where she would allow him to grope her, then to a dance where he would be permitted to go very much further and then the next evening she would invite him to do anything he wished.

On the evening of the movie date Dio called her to cancel because the running coach wanted everyone at the gym that night. She was relieved when he turned up to take her to the dance, and they had a wonderful time, pressing closely together during the supper waltz. It did not occur to her that it was she who was doing the pressing. They'd gone to the dance in her father's car and later had petted in the front seat when parked in the garage beneath her parent's house. Rather hyped up Sarisha had suggested they go into the back seat but Dio had said he was quite comfortable where he was. Sarisha unfastened her bra and pulling her blouse out of her skirt, undid all the buttons. She waited, but nothing happened, so with enterprising coolness she simply grasped one of Dio's hands and pulled it up under her bra. The result was electrifying.

"Gosh, it's late. Got to go," he gasped. 

To her dismay he pecked her cheek, opened the car door and then departed, waving goodbye. She remained seated, mouth open.

Beth Perkins was Sarisha's best friend, so The next day she went around to the home of Beth Perkins, her best friend and suggested that Dio might be homosexual.

"Ooh, I don't think so," said Beth. "I know he's sexually active."

"How did you know that?" asked Sarisha, wondering what the rumor mill was alleging.

"I know," Beth said sheepishly.

Sarisha looked at her aghast. "Did he...did you?"

Beth nodded. "I tell you, he's great."

Sarisha wanted to scream. She decided that she was going to lay Dio at the very next opportunity. But that just didn't eventuate and Amol arrived back home, madly in love with her, and Amol's girl she became.

At Al's restaurant, Sarisha watched Dio reading the menu, knowing he was wasting his time. The waitress arrived and Sarisha mouthed his order before he gave it: A steak sandwich medium rare, double onions, fries and a flat white.

"A steak sandwich medium rare, double onions and fries and a flat white," please Louise, he said. The waitress, Louise Titter blushed, remembering some of the times they'd had during their senior days at school and occasionally thereafter. She was dying to chat with him but he had bloody Sarisha with him. She was slightly miffed that he'd not come around for barbecued dinner three weeks ago after his mother's death. She'd wanted to mother him.

Dio asked how things were with Amol, and Sarisha avoided saying boring. Instead she said Amol had not worked out as her night driver so she had recruited a South African new immigrant who was performing very well. 

She was listening to Dio telling her that he was setting up in business when her beeper went. It was one of her regulars, a business executive, wanting to be taken to a town forty miles away.

"Got to dash," she announced, rising from her seat. 

Dio stood politely so she moved in and hugged him goodbye, ensuring he could feel her softness against him.

"Well," he laughed. "I could do with a goodbye hug like this every day."

"Let's arrange it then," she said lightly, her eyes smoldering.

He watched her walk away and said quietly, "Nice ass," just Louise arrived with his steak sandwich. She looked too, and said the same thing.

"That reminds me," she said, licking her lips. "Frank is out of town all next week. Want to come around one night – late?"

"Yeah, why not," Dio said. "Why don't you phone me?"

Louise walked away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. She turned, he mouthed "Nice ass" and she looked ever so pleased. 

Louise grabbed Sarisha's order, put the chicken burger into a paper bag and the coffee into a takeaway carton but by the time she rushed outside with the packages Sarisha's taxi was disappearing down the street.

Dio had come into possession of his bright red Holden by accident. Just before his last employer decided to sell to a rival predator, one of the company's forklift drivers was peeling a banana and during that moment of inattention ploughed straight into the back of Dio's clapped out Japanese rust bucket. The impact shunted Dio's car into a concrete wall, reducing the length of the vehicle by twelve inches.

The managing director had dashed out almost in hysterics. He'd misinterpreted the message and thought his own new luxury four-wheel-drive white sedan with tan leather covered seats had been rammed. My boy, oh dear, how sorry we are," gushed the MD in relief. "You buy a replacement vehicle and the company will pay half your total costs."

There were twenty-seven envious witnesses to that MD's moment of irrational generosity so payment was assured. Understandably Mr Pinklady was reminded about those witnesses when offering only $500, claiming he'd assumed that his unfortunate employee would have sought a replacement vehicle 'of kind'.

The kind of vehicle Dio went after was the vehicle glamorized in the poster that two month's earlier he'd ripped from the wall of the new vehicle department at the local Holden vehicle dealership. He'd been hotly pursued by an athletic and very angry car salesman. Unfortunately Dio's pursuer crashed into the supermarket trolley of an elderly couple, smashing ten of their dozen eggs and injuring the old lady's foot.

But this was a more uplifting visit to the showrooms of the dealer. Armed with most of his own savings, plus Mr Pinklady's company' check for $26,928 which was half of the quoted price of the vehicle plus extras, Dio headed for the commercial vehicle department. There, after the sales manager had extricated him from a headlock applied by the aforesaid new car salesman who'd recognized the poster thief, the transaction was completed.

The next day Dio parked his shiny red Holden SS ute alongside the MD's parking space, and everyone had gathered round to admire it when Fred Pinklady arrived. He, too, inspected the new purchase and was horrified to see that its optional extra stereo was flashier than the so-called 'top-of-the-line' stereo in his $147,000 vehicle.

Only a cynic would believe that during negotiations over the sale of the business Mr Pinklady sought revenge. This occurred when the prospective purchasers suggested they would have to let "one or two" of the Helpdesk staff go, whereas Mr Pinklady had recommended sacking the entire team, according to Mavis who was taking minutes of that meeting. Such action, of course, would ensure that Dio would be one of those to be tossed out of work. 

According to Mavis, it was Mr Pinklady who recommended that Bruce – described as "the useless forklift driver" - should also be booted out. 

The redundancies took effect at four on a Friday afternoon, and an hour later Mr Pinklady's scream brought everyone inside the administration building running. "My SUV, my beautiful SUV," he choked, pointing to the word 'Bastard' deeply gouged across the two doors on the driver's side of his luxury vehicle.

"That bastard Dicko or whatever his name is. He's done that, I recognize the handwriting."

Mavis hushed him, saying that he was in danger of making an ass of himself and it was unlikely that he'd ever seen Dio's handwriting or more particularly, his printing.

Mr Pinklady called the Police, who promised to investigate within the next ten days, working on a list of five names supplied by Mr Pinklady. He had no explanation when asked by the curious constable why one of the names, Dio Wellington, had a circle around it.

Written notification was received from the Police: 

Your complaint has been thoroughly investigated, with all suspects interviewed, but we are obliged to report that we have uncovered nothing untoward. We assure you that we shall keep a watching brief on the situation.

Mavis asked her boss whether she should file the police report under the name of Dio Wellington.

"Nah, the useless bastards; burn their report," he said. 

Even at that late stage it had not occurred to Mr Pinklady that there was the name of a prime suspect missing from the list given to the Police – Bruce, the redundant forklift driver. 

Dio and two others on that list of suspects had stood by chortling, watching Bruce writing his message using a big screwdriver. No one ratted on Bruce because he was a likeable chap, not like that bastard Pinklady.

Hackett Schmidt, 11 Coventry Place

An elderly, tall man with an extraordinarily straight back and sporting a white-hair crew cut greeted Dio with precision, opening the front door just as Dio was about to press the bell. Dio was disappointed he didn't hear the leather boots click together, as Mr Schmidt bowed slightly and said hello. Indeed, the gentleman's feet in tartan slippers remained some distance apart.

There was a picture of some buildings and snow on the street, so Dio looked to see if it was perhaps a winter's scene near Munich or maybe Berlin. The caption read, Queenstown 1963. And the main picture in the lounge was not a Messerschmitt 109 but a photo of a huge steam locomotive – "Ohura 1959."

He wondered why Mr Schmidt was covering his past. Perhaps he was ashamed of his involvement with the Third Reich?

"Well, boy. What are you? Dio is of Greek origin, isn't it, but you don't look Greek."

"Er, no, I'm a local. I was born in a place you wouldn't know of, sir."

"What? That's unlikely unless it's a tiny settlement. Where were you born?

"Feilding."

"Good gracious, I know Feilding – a rather charming place, all the better place now the freezing works are gone. I was born at a much smaller place, Foxton. Know where that is?"

"My late mother's terrier came from there, Kirkpatrick Dumfries of Argus was her name, replied Dio. "But we called her Pattie."

"Well, I guess some good bitches have come from Foxton, if you know what I mean."

They fell about laughing.

"Well boy, you better look at my computer. My married daughter lived with me while her divorce was going through and the legacy of her stay is these pictures of men she's got hidden all over the place. They are short men, tall men, thin men and fat men but all are big in one place, if you know what I mean.

"Here's my sixty bucks, don't need a receipt because I can't claim the expense off anybody. Just ferret out the filth, will you please."

Mr Schmidt left the room, saying he would be out on the front porch watering the potted geraniums. 

This was an easy task. Dio rubbed his hands together several times, especially over the fingertips as a concert violinist does before walking on stage to enchant the audience with her virtuosity. Actually, he wasn't aware that he was doing it, being an acquired habit developed to remove morning tea crumbs from messy fingers.

The PC was loaded with the XP Home version of Windows. He went Start/Search and in Search selected the Pictures, Music, or Video option and went straight to the All or part of the file name box and typed in three file name types - *.bmp, *.jpg, *.gif that typified graphics imported from the web. 

Checking that under View on the taskbar was set to Thumbnails, he hit the Search button and during the next half minute watched as just over 400 graphics appeared on-screen. He selected each of the graphics to be deleted – 210 in total – deleted them using a temporary program he installed that automatically overwrites the selected files to totally destroy all traces.

He then ran that software again, having selected the option to 'Indicate content that may be adult material'. Nothing appeared from that check so he'd assumed his trawl for 'filth' had been successful. A more thorough check was possible but Dio believed that the remainder of his time could be put to better use.

The machine was over-flowing with temporary files and C and D drives were both in need of defragging.

He went to the front door and called Mr Schmidt, who returned with him.

"Do you two use the computer much?" he asked.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 01



"Every day, but my daughter is long gone – she's working in the kitchen of a passenger liner and says she's having a whale of a time."

"Oh, that's good. I actually meant you and your wife."

"Oh, she's long gone as well. But she remains with me – she's over there," he said pointing to a small copper container beside the fireplace.

"Oh, that's good," Dio said weakly.

He then showed Mr Schmidt how to clear temporary files.

"Oh that – I used to do that but sort of forgot about it. I just thought the disk was slowing down because it's getting old, like me."

Dio opened Notepad and quickly typed out a step by step list of instructions on disk maintenance. He saved it to d:drive as "Disk Clean-up" and then added a shortcut to that file to the desktop.

"There – see this shortcut," Dio instructed. "When you think a disk clean-up is due just hit this icon and, presto!"

"Crikey dick – that's amazing," Mr Schmidt said. "I'll have to reward you."

Dio was wondering what he meant, hoping it might be money rather than some ashes of Mrs Schmidt.

He watched Mr Schmidt begin a defrag of c:drive. 

After that, Mr Schmidt led him through the house and out to a rickety shed.

"This shed is all that remains of the original homestead that stood here until 1960," he said proudly. "It was all farmland around here until the housing boom of the sixties."

Inside the shed he pulled a dirty white sheet off a black painted metal box which was a just over four feet long and two feet wide.

"It has a pull-out tray inside it and four rubber bungs on reinforced bolt holes on the bottom and the back for affixing," he said. "The lid completely encloses the body, so it's absolutely waterproof and that new paint is five coats of lacquer. I had the box on my old Bedford until I sold the old girl and thought it might make a useful gift for someone one day. Well, that day has come. I have taken a look-see at your flash pick-up and saw that you needed a decent lockup box to sit behind the cab – so here it is, son."

Dio was overwhelmed. Why was the guy doing this? People – apart from girls – never gave him anything?

"I'll pay you," he said, drawing out his wallet. "I really want this box."

"Pay me be dammed," Mr Schmidt snorted. "I said it was a fuckin' gift!"

"Whoops, sorry; no offence intended," Dio said, hastily pushing the wallet back into the hip pocket of his jeans.

As they carried the box to the ute, Mr Schmidt said: "You know, I notice this vehicle of yours is a V8. That's a bit of a gas-guzzler so you ought to be charging your clients eighty bucks an hour. My garage charges me close to a hundred bucks, and then I often have to take the car back to get the job done properly."

Dio felt temporarily bonded to Mr Schmidt, so he pulled the keys out and dangled them in front of him, watching Mr Schmidt's eyes glaze over as they followed the jingling keys.

"Take her for a run."

Mr Schmidt said: "Holy shit."

"Go on, I'll stay here. Let your juices flow."

The old man grabbed the keys.

"Right, let's go. You're coming with me. Compared with what I drive this vehicle is virtually a lethal weapon. I'll need crew support."

They started off down the road, very quietly. Then with a boyish smile the old man floored the gas pedal to do a wheel spin before easing back.

"What did you do for a crust? Mr Schmidt," asked Dio, unclenching his fists.

"I was mostly in the Air Force."

Ah-ha, thought Dio. So I was right, the Luftwaffe.

"I flew this country's first jets. I flew almost 10 years with the Air Force before I was promoted to a desk job at defense headquarters in Wellington.

"Very interesting," said Dio, wondering why he was so useless at trying to make assumptions about people and their background. However, Mr Schmidt was not his biggest. 

The biggest clanger he'd ever made had been over his own mother when he was eighteen. Some idiot reckoned his mother was a prostitute, so Dio did the decent thing and walloped him, dropping the guy like a stone. Others in their group at the dance pulled him away and then Sarisha was crying, hugging him.

"Oh, you poor darling," she'd sobbed. "You honestly didn't know that being a herbalist is only a hobby for your mum. The nice clothes that she buys you, the great holidays she's taken you on, the money that for years she'd been sending off to your father – she could never have earned that kind of money mixing up natural remedies for people."

"Tally-ho!" cried squadron leader Hackett Schmidt, seeing a blonde-hair mid-age woman in a blue open-top sports car entered the road ahead of them, coming from a side road and not bothering to halt at the compulsory stop sign. She then accelerated away.

Dio clenched his first again as the red ute's 5.7 V8 motor roared into life as pilot Schmidt lined up his quarry and gave chase. Only the siren sounded behind them preventing an interesting situation from developing. 

Squadron leader Hackett Schmidt eased back the throttle and executed a left turn with a deft flick of the 'rudder', while the police pursuit vehicle, red and blue lights flashing, went after the little blue sports car.

Whew, this is better than the movies, thought co-pilot Ace Hamilton, telling his buddy: "Hit the gas and let's get out of here in case that cop comes back looking for us."

"Roger!" shouted the pseudo juvenile behind the wheel, grinning as his foot hit the gas pedal.

Outside 11 Coventry Place Mr Schmidt patted Dio on the shoulder and said: "Son, thanks for the privilege of being given a most joyous occasion. I reckon I feel ten years younger than when I answered the door to you two hours ago."

"It's been a pleasure, sir. I don't usually have so much fun on the job. Every time I jam my hand on the heavy lid of that steel box I shall remember you fondly."

"Likewise son. You are a little uptight, you know. Coach yourself to loosen up a bit to fly by the seat of your pants. Cheerio."

"Achtung Baby!" called Dio, hoping the roar of the motor would drown his idiotic choice of farewell.

Dio headed into Lake Street and just like in the movies parked right outside his destination - Coffee Exotic where he intended having coffee and a snack. 

He'd spent two hours on the Schmidt call for sixty bucks, but had gotten very much more from that encounter. By that he did not mean the steel box, easily worth three hundred bucks. He'd experienced a rewarding person-to-person encounter, quite magical really. It was something like the adventures he used to have as a kid with his two buddies – but never with his parents although he knew his mom had tried her best. 

But she didn't like swimming, fighting or walking. She used to say with a sly smile – "I do my best exercise on my back" – and he turned eighteen before he understood what she meant.

Although Dio ordered a thin flat white, three chicken sandwiches and one piece of apple slice, the co-owner of Café Exotic Celina Bryant handed him a plate with two pieces topped with small mountains of whipped cream.

"I'm only charging you for one, sweetheart. You really do need building up. I'll bring your coffee over."

Just as the first piece of apple-slice-to-die-for entered Dio's mouth to be turned over multiple times and savored, a bottle of Tibetan Alpine Clear Aqua landed on his table with a thump, and Celina's husband Mike Bryant slid into the seat opposite.

Whenever these friends came together, an idiotic verbal jostling eventuated, so today's encounter was typical. 

"Hi, Big Balls. Thought I would join you as the lunch rush is over. Who are you shagging these days?"

"No one actually, as according to the horoscope in Women Alive, this is my month for total celibacy."

"Struth," breathed Mike in awe. "No one could possibly go for a month without it, and survive."

"Will you attend my funeral?" Dio responded gravely.

"Look mate, don't throw your life away, Mike grinned. 

"Tell you what, you come in here after work and I'll lend you Celli. You can bang away in the cool room. Because that area is insulated the horoscope writer will not be able to detect that you have confounded her predictions."

Dio pretended to be almost moved to tears. "Thanks, mate. That's an exceedingly generous offer to loan me your missus, but I must refuse. How is one going to get a stiffer in the cold of a chiller room?"

"No trouble mate. Our kitchen assistant Susie and I duck in there quite frequently when business is slow, and I have no trouble ... oops, what and I saying?"

"Search me," offered Dio. "I thought you were talking about retrieving stuff from the chiller for the next day's baking."

"Oh yeah, I was, wasn't I? But consider the offer is still open, mate."

"Must go. Celli's gone off with the takings to the bank and Susie probably needs some help in the chiller. Catch you later."

Celina and Mike were truly great friends, thought Dio. Both were a little promiscuous, and he started that off.

As 16-year-olds the three of them were members of the school's long distance running squad. Celina Mellon as she was then and Mike used to sit in the front row of seats in the mini-bus, a spare seat between them, while he and Ronnie Marks used to sit in the back seat where before too long at least a couple of girls used to join them for what was called in those days, "some slap and tickle." Dio could never recall being slapped or slapping anyone.

One weekend Mike and Dio was billeted in the home of a mid-aged couple with a 20-year-old daughter. Mike rose twice during the night for a nervous pee, worried about his race in the morning. On both occasions Dio's bed was empty.

"Where were you last night?" Mike challenged, thinking that Dio must have nipped off down the street to the house where Liz Monks was billeted. Mike was aware that Liz really fancied Dio.

Dio told the truth. "Shortly after going to bed I got up and went for a pee. When I was walking past Sarah's room the door opened and she pulled me inside."

"What!" Mike squealed. Why would she be interested in you – she must be 20, and is very good looking?"

"Dunno, Mike, but she sure gave me a real working over."

"You're lying," Mike challenged.

The bedroom door opened and in walked Sarah in a nightdress that appeared to set a new record in shortness for a shortie nightdress.

"Good morning, Mike," she smiled sweetly. "Do you mind ducking off into my bed until the folks get up? I've got something to give to your friend here."

Mike slunk off, the way along the dark passage almost lit by the redness of his cheeks and ears, according to what he told Dio later. Mike decided that Sarah must be a nymphomaniac. Guys at school talked about them but regarded such girls as sluts. Sarah, as far as he could see, was just like your average girl next door, although much better looking. He was confused about this.

At the completion of the cross-country championships all competitors received a meal ticket. Mike had come in second in his event so was the centre of attention from the school's team. Just before their meal was served in the hall, Mike and Dio were standing together, the others having drifted off.

"Dio, do you rub some special scent on yourself or something to pull in the chicks?"

"No," Dio said in surprise.

"Then what is the secret?"

"Nothing; I just focus and say something like, "You're looking lovely tonight."

"What! But that's just crap!"

Dio thought he'd help Mike out, as they were good buddies.

"How many times have you been laid lately?

"Lately, are you joking? I'm still waiting to get my first."

"Look, going home on the bus tonight come and sit in the back seat with Ronnie and me. Some of the girls will come to see us as soon as Miss Roberts nods off. Just be yourself, don't attempt to be smart or rush at the tits. Just as little rub up the arm and ask something really uncomplicated like, 'Enjoy yourself today?' "

"Enjoy yourself today?" Mike murmured.

"And bloody well listen to her answer, and if appropriate reply with something really banal like, 'Me too'." 

"Me too," Mike repeated.

"Then ask, if she's tired. She will nod and perhaps even yawn. Gently pull her down on to your shoulder and she will either go to sleep or possibly her brain will be racing overtime thinking how she's going to get you to start playing with her."

Mike boggled. 

"But Dio, that's unbelievably easy. No girl is going to fall for that stuff. They want it in detail, and complicated with declarations of love and all of that."

"Don't you believe that crap, Mike, otherwise you'll die a virgin."

Mike trembled. For a long time that been his fear, and now someone had confronted him with it. He thought life was just one big pain! 

At dinner Dio managed to seat himself beside Celina.

"You did very well today, Celina," he said, and immediately regretted it as obviously it had pressed Celina's button.

"Really, did you think so?" she breathed, moving closer to him.

"Ah, Celina; did you know that Mike has the hots for you?"

"Really?" she asked in surprise. "He's never indicated any interest?"

"Believe me, Celina he'd just love to slide his hand down your arm, signaling the next step is over to you."

"Really?" she said, turning to look at Mike who was ignoring the people around him and seemed to be practicing a speech.

In the darkened bus, with the head of Miss Roberts resting on her ample bosom, the silhouettes of four girls were briefly framed by the lights of an approaching car as they made their way to the back of the mini bus. 

Both Dio and Mike remember the occasion well. 

Claire and Liz made a beeline for Dio, sitting on each side of him, and Rachel sat beside Ronnie and immediately undid his shirt buttons. The arrival of those girls had pushed Mike into the corner, with no space beside him. So Celina simply plunked down on his knees, putting an arm around his neck for support.

Dio strained to keep an eye and ear on his protégé.

"Gee, your heart's thumping," Celina said.

"I can't hear yours," Mike said, not able to follow his briefing.

"Here, feel it," she said, placing his hand over her heart.

Mike panicked. He pulled his hand away quickly, saying "Yeah."

Dio's instruction flashed into his mind. He gently ran that same hot hand down the exposed skin of Celina's upper arm.

"Oh my God," she whimpered, and began to thrash around slightly.

"Are you okay Celina?" he whispered, wondering if she were cramping up.

"Here," she whispered. 

Dio looking across at them grinned as he saw what it was.

"What's this?" asked Mike.

"My panties, Dickhead. Put them into your pocket and get going."

Back in town, Celina and Mike said goodbye to Dio. They wanted to walk home unaccompanied.

Dio was strolling along the footpath, trying to avoid stepping on cracks in the concrete, when suddenly the passenger door of a parked car ahead of him opened. 

As he was passing the vehicle a voice called out, "Jump in, Dio."

He bent to see who it was. Sarisha smiled back at him.

"Sorry, Dio," she said, teeth and luminous eyes flashing. "I know you will have had a grueling weekend, but I just can't wait any longer. I'm thinking about you day and night. We've got to do it, otherwise I'll go crazy."

"I'll need some food and drink first," he warned.

"No problem – I'll treat you with a nice thick steak down at the pie cart at the bus station. Then we can tootle off to my place. The folk are not arriving home until tomorrow night. I'm going to really enjoy this, Dio. I've been thinking about it for such a long time, years in fact."

"I'll try my best," Dio grinned. "A double rum thick-shake will be of great help."

"Anything you want, Dio, anything at all," said Miss Sultry Eyes, reaching to pull him against her as Dio slid into the front seat. He tossed his bag into the back of the car and as she moved on to him her teeth gently bit into his lower lip.'

Sarisha was elated. She began driving off, glancing again at Dio, and hit the car parked immediately ahead with a glancing blow, severely denting its rear mudguard. That put an end to her plans for that evening.

After that bus trip, Celina and Mike went around together for a few months then drifted apart. They reunited at Celina's eighteenth birthday party and stayed in bed the whole of the next day, with Celina's mum bringing fresh towels, food and drink.

Downstairs her balding and still drunk father repeatedly thumped the table saying. "I'm not going to allow it; I'm not going to allow it." But then he always was a talker. 

Mrs Rutter came into the kitchen with her dressing gown gaping open, her nightdress gone. She said to her husband, "Those two are getting me going. Come on you, to bed!"

"But it's only ten o'clock," protested Mr Rutter, but not really complaining. It was just his way of buying time to adjust to the prospect of sex before lunch.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's celebrate in bed. Celina has just told me that they're probably going to get married in the spring."

A month later Mike phoned Dio and asked him to be best man. Delighted, Dio accepted. 

An hour later Celina arrived at Dio's house, his mother was out shopping. 

"I've come to thank you the best way I know for bringing me and Mike together," she said, kicking the door closed.

That was fourteen years ago.

"What's up, love?" asked Celina, arriving back at Coffee Exotic from the bank. "You've certainly got a soppy look on your face."

"Just thinking about some of the ups and downs in my life," Dio replied.

She grinned, and then looking towards the kitchen yelled, "Mike!"

"Jeez," Dio said, holding his right ear. "What are you shouting for? You scared the daylights out of me."

"Oh, just to let Mike know I've back. He's probably pounding something in the chiller. I don't mind at all, but it just embarrasses me when I catch them at it. It's not the prettiest of sights, you know."

"Of course," was the neutral reply from Dio. 

He made a polite exit before Celina began to ask him was Mike involved with anyone else.

Sara and Jane, 18 Cattle Race Lane – 3:30 Sharp

Two eighteen year-olds in high school uniform were waiting at the gate to the impressive two-storey house that was nicely balanced architecturally with turrets at both ends.

"Thank you for being on time," said the one identifying herself as Sara. "Listen, we can only afford thirty dollars so when that runs out you'll just have to leave. Sorry, but we are only school students you know, and my parents must not know about this."


"Right," said Dio, as they walked up the path and entered the house. The rooms he could see were expensively fitted with dark-stained and leather-covered sofas and chairs. 

"What's the problem?"

"Well, one of the teachers at school gave Jane a web site address which she said was a pretty hot site – you know, two eighteen year olds getting down to it."

Struth, thought Dio; these two should be looking at the Disney channel. He'd need to proceed carefully.

"Look," he said. "show me where the computer is and then I want you two to clear off – stay some way from me working."

"But it's nothing...er...all right," said Sara.

The computer was in the study upstairs in her father's office. Sara said it was fortunate that her father had not used the computer since the sexy stuff had been downloaded. "We thought we would look at it, and then delete it. But it keeps coming back to haunt us," she said.

"Yeah, scary stuff," said Jane.

No passwords were involved, so Dio told the two girls to go downstairs.

He booted the computer and found it automatically opened to a lesbian oriented website. This was easily fixed. The original download had automatically installed the site's address as the computer's Internet browser's home address. 




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 01



He uploaded software from his CD and removed all traces of the invasive website from the registry and checked for and removed all other lesbian-related pornography.

Satisfying himself that all footprints of the girls' adventures into pornography had been removed, he had a sudden thought: If Sara was like this, what about her father? He looked for signs of storage of adult material but found none. Daddy was either clean or clever, thought Dio. He ran another program with interesting results. It found eleven gigabytes of hidden files – confidential or whatever files that were encrypted, saved under a password and then 'hidden' within several folders carrying ordinary names such as Old Cars and Good Jokes.

He went to the stairs and called: "Sara, do you know how to encrypt files?"

"No, what does that mean?"

"It's okay, I'll just finish up here."

Well, what was in those encrypted files was the business of Sara's father, and no-one was going to be any the wiser because they were unlikely to find them and even if they did would not be able to open them without the password.

All the deletions had been done using multiple over-writing 'destroy' software. The girls no longer had a problem.

Out on the street, Dio turned and spoke to the relieved girls.

"Now look, young ladies. I hope you have learned your lesson. Remain pure and as young as heart for as long as you can. There's plenty of time to get into adult things in years ahead. Pornography gets a bit boring, anyway."

"Yes Mr Computer Cleaner," Jane said.

"I think I have learned my lesson," Sara offered. "Next time someone gives me a website to try I will decline the offer and say I will look at it on their computer. It's a bit like safe sex, isn't it?"

Dio sighed.

"Cool wagon," said Sara, looking at the ute. "We are usually down at Tony's Ice Cream Parlor on Friday nights. Why don't you come in and get us one night and take us for a ride?"

Dio sighed. "Goodbye girls." As he entered his vehicle a dark Rover sedan pulled up behind him, its horn blaring. A sharp-faced woman, with piled-up hair, jumped out and shouted, "I saw you talking to my daughter and her friend!"

"Yes madam. I'm sorry, but I don't see a problem."

"Leave him alone mummy. Can't you see the sign on his vehicle, Mr Computer Cleaner. Someone in this street appears to have made a bogus call to him. He's looking for Bruce Bishop."

"There are no Bishops in this street," said the mother angrily.

"Exactly, and that's what I told this poor man," said Sara with great confidence. "I think you have been very rude to him."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the confused mother.

"No problem," Dio said cheerfully. "If ever you have problems with your computer, please give me a call. Nice hair."

"Oh do you think so," said the flattered mother, unaware that Sara's eyes had rolled up and she was groaning something that sounded suspiciously like "Bloody vain woman."



This one must surely be a bogus call, thought Dio, now that the possibility had been planted in his head. He knocked, no answer. He was about to leave when the door opened and an old lady leaning on a walking stick asked, "Are you the gas man?"

"No, sorry. I'm looking for a Mr Humphries."

"No one here by that name. I am all by myself and lie awake constantly afraid. I wish Humphrey Bogart were still alive."

"Sorry to have bothered you, madam," said Dio, about to turn away. 

An ancient-looking man pushed past her and said: "You silly cow, you're married to me and have been for nigh on sixty years. I'm Mr Humphries. What do you want? Are you the electricity meter reader?"

"No, you stupid old man. He's gas."

"He doesn't look like gas, and anyway, why would he call? We don't have gas."

"Well perhaps he's here to read the television meter."

"Television's don't have meters."

"Excuse me for breaking into this fascinating conversation but I have been called to look at your computer."

"Do computers have meters."

"No madam, they don't"

"Then buzz off," she cried. "You're wasting our time and disturbing the neighborhood with all this shouting."

Humphrey Humphries finally got his head around the problem.

"I called him, you silly old buffalo. Come in sir. I am unable to see my girls."

"You don't have any girls – we have four boys, you brainless goat."

"Quick, into this room and I'll shut the door and lock it. She's get frustrated and when in a mood like this goes looking for our dog that died eight years ago. The toolshed is now packed to the ceiling with dog biscuits."

All of this had made Dio feel thirsty.

"I say, you could your please get me a glass of water?"

"Nope, son. As soon as either of us steps out of that door it means a whack over the head with the walking stick. She'd wait another five minutes and then drift off. But don't despair; let's see what I've got here? Are your bowels in need of a shake up? Here's my paraffin – does wonders but keep away from naked flame if you fart. Ah, this is more like it; a grand single malt from Heather."

Dio had some knowledge about Scotch whiskies so decided to challenge that last statement.

"As far as I know there's no place in Scotland called Heather."

"Heather is our cleaning lady, you fool. She sits on my knee, and we both sip a tipple while watching the girls go by."

Dio look out the window, but the street was blocked by a high hedge. No girls going by there. The old boy is bonkers, he decided.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"Well, I have these pictures that we sit and watch, or used to. But now they are refusing to screen, so something's up. Heather told me not to take the computer to the repairman because he might report me to the police for having all this pornography. I must not go to jail as the wife wouldn't last a week unless I was around to annoy and abuse."

Ah, it made sense. Watching the girls go by meant watching either a video play through Windows Media Player or some other player or a slide show or perhaps a video on CD.

"Do you play CDs?"

"What's that?"

"Thank you; I'll accept that as a no."

"Please show me the step by step action you take to get the girls going by."

"Right, move over son and give me room. I need my arms out wide because I've gotten used to Heather sitting on my lap."

"How old is Heather, Mr Humphries?" asked Dio, expecting she might be a bit younger, perhaps in her seventies.

"Twenty-six."

"Good heavens!"

"I'm not playing around, if that's what you're thinking, though at times she likes me rubbing the blubber on her chest. She likes watching the girls go by and she particularly likes whisky – her tight-ass husband won't buy her any. He expects her to drink cheap gin, so I give her the cash and she buys whisky for us. Well, let's get into this. In case you're worried that's your sixty bucks on that little table behind the door. You charge too much, you know. The meter reader doesn't charge us at all. You would get more business than you could handle if you didn't charge, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but how am I going to run my ute?"

"Oh, you mean that red vehicle. I thought you were a fireman when that arrived. Anyway, walk to work – it saves money, keeps you fit and make sure your bowels are happy. Now that's enough advice from me. You're here to get the girls going by again."

Dio paused for a moment to stare at his empty glass – actually it was a former mustard jar. Mr Humphries took the hint and poured in three fingers of fiery scotch.

Dio was pleased that the old fellow was using IrfanView, as it was reliable. He quickly found the problem. In the box to load Files of Type Mr Humphries had it set to JPG/JPEG whereas they were probably in BMP format. He made the change and Mr Humphries shouted, "Oh there you are, you wonderful fellow."

Dio loaded the images from the file and ran the slide player.

What he saw was awesome, at least to students of female form of yesteryear like himself and Mr Humphries and apparently Heather.

They were 'beauties' of the olden days – Mr Humphries said the collection of 2700 images had been amassed over several years. 

"Many of them have been scanned from French postcards, but some are pictures from famous naughty paintings and etchings. They were dated from 1850 to 1930.

In the main, the women depicted were voluptuous. "It's my taste in women," offered Mr Humphries.

Some were in indelicate poses with other women, but most were simply healthy looking women in drawing room poses, the only difference they were totally nude or wore only stockings and huge hats.

"They are beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Dio said. "I've seen them on the web but nothing like the extent of this collection on any site or even a half-dozen sites."

Mr Humphries looked at his watch.

"Well son, you'd better go. You've been here for an hour and she'll get sick of looking for the dog that's never going to be there and will come back thumping on the door with her stick saying it's unhealthy for two men to be locked in a room together.

"You say you admire the collection eh?"

Dio nodded, having taken a screen shot of the slideshow window of IfranView which he printed out, and then marked the critical settings that Mr Humphries needed to follow in order to find his files of girls to load so that he and Heather could cuddle and watch them walk by while sipping a top-shelf whisky. 

Boy, when he was 80-plus he hoped he would have a set up like Mr Humphries.

Picking up the money Dio wondered if he should give some back – it had been such an easy problem to resolve.

"No, keep it son. We've got heaps of money but nothing to spend it on, apart from our two luxuries – whisky and dog biscuits."

Mr Humphries handed him a bundle of CDs and said it was a copy of his entire 1850-1930 collection.

"Thank you, thank you sir," Dio gushed. "Whenever I play them I shall think of you with Heather on your lap, drinking whisky."

"You know son, when you get to my age that's a perfectly safe place for any woman to sit."

* * * 

Dio arrived home just before six, and sunk into a hot bath with Brahms playing from his stereo – his mother played an old vinyl disk of Brahms when she was pregnant, hoping the music would filter through to the brain of her child. But as a youngster Dio preferred what she called raucous music. So why had her son, aged eighteen when tormented by the realization that his mother was a prostitute, gone out and purchased this very CD of Brahms' music that included the lullaby? It was because he knew the music would calm him. Ever since that shattering disclosure about his mother – which really marked his transition into adulthood – he'd play this CD when he felt stressed or irritable and gradually would slip into a melancholy mood.

His cell phone went.

"Mr Wellington, is that you?" asked the female voice probably stimulated by liquor. Her affected voice seemed to Dio to be the turbine effect of top-end voice pressure flitting up one nostril and exiting through the other at greatly increase speed. Cultured people recognize the voice as 'proper' whereas people like Dio describe it as 'horsy'.

"It is I," replied Dio, replicating the wording and acute accent of the British Lord answering the telephone in a recent BBC re-run of a 1937 film about the rise and fall of the family of Lord Buckwheat of Baconsby.

"Imogene is home. Must dash, have to meet Roger at the club. I did promise to call you when she was back. Toot, toot," Ivy Robertson gaily burbled.

Suddenly Dio didn't want Brahms any longer. He wanted Joe Crocker inveigling his senses by singing 'You are so Beautiful' because that's what Imogene Robertson was.

Imogene, a sweet twenty-four year old, was one of only two people who Dio had thought he could happily marry. 

The choice was (a) the intelligent, artistic and even tempered beautiful Imogene, only daughter of very rich parents or (b) Paige Turner, the skinny and completely unassuming daughter of a quarry-owning widow. 

Paige once infamously decked him on the dance floor by kicking him between his legs. Poor Dio, he'd simply being checking that his zip was done up when Paige came straight in, pushed by someone, right on to his outstretched forefinger.

That choice of potential brides was so incongruous that not even Dio could rationalize it. The fact that neither woman particularly liked him complicated the situation further.

He jumped out of the bath, shaved his face and then his armpits - never having done that before - and put on a trendy basketball singlet (they reveal hairy armpits) and a pair of those goofy below-the-knees silky shorts, black and red socks and plain black sneakers. He chose that rig because Imogene was a sports junkie.

He knocked on the front door, and Imogene called, "Come in."

But the door was locked. He rattled it until he heard her approach, calling in an annoyed tone, "All right, all right" and that about set the tone for their short encounter. She wanted to watch women talking their heads off on TV in preference to cuddling on the sofa with him with the lights out. 

Bored, he was thinking about leaving when she said, "Darling, would you like to make me a cup of coffee?"

He obliged, and when handing it to him she said, "Bye, you can go now." 

Dejected, he went to his local tavern and the place at that hour was beginning to liven up. To his delight, he saw Paige there. He went over to her smiling but she looked slightly nervous. 

Dio's chin dropped and he turned to go away when she said something that sounded like "You haven't come to poke me?" But she grasped him by the arm and repeated herself, shouting above the loud music -"I don't think you've met Bob Leigh."

A tall forty-something man arrived with a cocktail and bottle of beer.

"Dio," said Paige, "I would like you to meet Bob Leigh. Bob, Dio Wellington is an old acquaintance from my tramping club."

Bob stuck his stake in the ground by saying gruffly, "Dio? That's a funny name."

And good evening to you, Bob the Slob, and I hope that beer's flat, is what Dio should have said. He could have even added that his girl likes Dio's finger, then he could have vented his pent up frustrations in the ensuing fight. 

But he'd noticing the way Paige was looking at old man Bob. Obviously she was expecting something more than a drink from Bob.

"See you, Paige. I'm pushing off." 

She appeared not to hear him and a triumphant smile appeared around Bob the Slob's mouth.

Dio was tired after an eventful, busy day and a very uneventful evening. As he neared home he was waved down by a sweet looking teenager, nicely contoured and well dressed. She also wore a very anxious expression. 

Spotting the flat, left rear tire he was tempted to accelerate onward, but Dio had a chivalrous streak so he pulled over.

"Oh thank you for stopping, kind sire," said the teenager smiling, giving her Maid Marion greeting. 

Tempted to reply in kind, "At your service Milady," he asked, "Problems?"

"Oh yes," said she, pointing to the deflated tire.

Dio opened the driver's door and pulled the trunk opening lever.

"Oh," she said. "I've already done that but mummy must have taken out the thingies used to make a wheel change to make more room for her shopping – but the spare wheel is there if that's any help."

Useless dames, thought Dio. How the hell is one going to change a wheel without a jack and wheel brace?

He lifted the trunk mat. True, the spare wheel was there but not the jack and handle. In the poor illumination from the tiny light on the lid of the boot he could see there were no fittings to house a jack and handle, so they must be stored elsewhere.

He spotted the outline of a flush panel on the right-hand side of the boot. He pulled the fabric tag to open the panel and backed out of the boot carrying the jack and handle.

The girl clapped her hands saying, "Marvelous, you are so clever."

Dio was beginning to like the lass. 

She also had the intelligence to step back out of the way, allowing the street light to reach where he was working. Up went the left rear end of the car with eleven turns of the jack handle. He pulled the lever out of the jack, and saw that it had a flattened end to lever off the wheel cover so assumed that the other thick rounded end would be shaped internally to allow him to unscrew the five wheel nuts; it did.

She was at it again: "You are so clever."

He tried to get a good look at her. The way that her long dark brown – almost black – hair framed her faced gave it almost an oval shape. In the street light her skin looked slightly olive, her eyes were brown.

She saw him looking at her and smiled, not looking away and not at all embarrassed. How old was she – eighteen? 

She was damn clever herself, because he felt thirsty as he finished, putting the flat tire into the boot. 

"That must have been thirsty work. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Dio's dry tongue loudly said 'Yes" without bothering to add please, so he quickly repeated himself, "Yes please."

"Well, get into the front passenger seat. I've got half a thermos of coffee, it may be cool but at least it's wet. There's also a date scone."

Date scone! Dio's Aunt Alice when she was alive made the best date scones in the world. He used to believe that he was becoming addicted to them.

The girl struggled into the car with a small hamper that had been on the back seat. Dio leaned over and balanced the hamper until she was settled, and was rewarded with a smile displaying two even rows of gleaming teeth. He could now see that she was quite stunning.

"Thank you," she smiled. "Now you sit back and enjoy this late supper. By the way, I'm Carra."

He introduced himself and they shook hands.

Dio then expressed concern.

"You know, you are awfully trusting. Here you are inviting a strange man into your car and treating him like a friend. He could...could interfere with you."

"If he attempted anything I would tell him that I know Karachi."

"Karate," Dio corrected.

"Well, he'd be frightened off if being unsure about Karachi."

"You're priceless, you know."

"There you go, as soon as I saw you I'd decided that you were a nice man, and that sensitive comment just proves it."

"What sensitive comment?" Dio asked innocently.

"Now, don't prove to be a disappointment," she admonished.

They chatted for almost half an hour, with Dio drinking in tiny sips to prolong the encounter. Women he knew did not have this softness; it was perhaps what writers termed a virginal quality. She was a delight to be with.

Reluctantly the time came to leave, but just before he closed the door she surprised him.

"Are you married?"

"No – how could I look so relaxed and be married?"

She laughed, and asked if he were going steady with anyone.

"No – sorry if that's considered to be a crime."

She apologized, and his eyes fixed on her lips as she licked them briefly.

He explained that he was joking. He was between dates at present.

"Well, as I said earlier I am an events organizer," said Carra. 

"I have arranged this cocktail party on Friday evening for the Bookwriters' and Poet's Group. Acceptances are a bit unbalanced as more women are going than men. So I'm wondering..."

"If I would do the decent thing and sip cocktails with old ducks and..."

"If you would accompany me – I'd pay for you, of course."

"Is this a date?"

Carra looked at him closely, then turned away and started the car. She looked back at him unsmilingly. "Of course. And again I sincerely thank you for being my Knight of the Road."

Dio stood watching the tail-lights of her mother's car disappear into the darkness.

"She's young, she's pretty – very pretty in fact – she has energy, humor and poise and obviously by her last remark, she's a romantic. Good heavens, what a combination. She's far too good for me though – and too young."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 01



He went inside, humming 'I Feel Pretty'.

It was just after 10:30. Dio cleared his phone message recorder. There were messages galore so it was almost midnight before he slipped into bed. He dreamed of riding up and down the Carrington Highway on a big white horse looking for a damsel in distress. 

He woke during the night, most frustrated. He and the girl had forgotten to exchange phone numbers! He doubted that they would find each other. Where could he start? Who the hell employs events organizers? Damn, damn triple damn. He stalked off to the bathroom and came back to bed feeling less angry.

Kara who? 

He moaned. Perhaps he'd wake up in the morning and would remember something that she'd said to give him a clue.

* * *

Anyone thinking a prostitute would be incapable of setting good examples to her child should think again, even if the child was unaware of his mother's well-rewarded occupation. One of Nancy Wellington's firm rules was that Dio must make his bed properly 'for every day of your natural life'.

As Dio wasn't in to having unnatural days, he assumed that meant every day. So on this glorious sunny morning he dutifully made his bed and thought about Nancy as he often did at such a time or sitting outside on the back terrace where they'd spent lot of happy hours. He always thought of her as his mother the herbalist – not his mother the slut. He apologized aloud, "Sorry mum - prostitute by necessity."

He left the room, whistling Brahms' lullaby and opened his laptop. Three email messages were posted there, awaiting his attention. The first was from a former Helpdesk associate Art Lobb, checking that Dio was keeping out of trouble. Art was "boringly engaged" as a supervisor in a bottle washing plant. The second was from his computer supplier pointing out that Dio's account was two months overdue. He sent off a reply promising to square the account on the twentieth of the current month.

The third email was a spam from some Dickhead wanting to rave on about 'Flattie'. Dio was about to trash it when the mouse seemed to take over and clicked the message. It opened and joyfully he saw it was Carra. Of course – the subject line 'Flattie' referred to their meeting the previous evening over her flat tire!

We twits didn't exchange phone numbers last night. Surprisingly I almost cried when I realized that I'd probably never see you again. During the night I went for a...you know...and sitting there the image of your email address I'd glanced at on you truck filled my mind. Isn't that cute? Reply with your address – it's my date so I shall pick you up at six.

Carra

Dio's face lit up and he began beating his chest like Tarzan.

TO BE CONTINUED



Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 02



The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero has an odd name, the reason for which is explained as it his less than a smooth journey into adulthood. Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters and soon it becomes apparent that Dio is enjoying a life richer in many ways than most people around him. It appears that when he's between girlfriends two married females from schooldays are available to handle his needs whenever it suits. Dio is between girlfriends when he meets a damsel in distress on the roadside, with a puncture to her mom's car. Dio helps out and the twenty year old Carra invites him to accompany her to a function. They forget to exchange addresses but smart Carra wakes up during the night and the image of his email address on the side of his ute comes to mind; so she emails Dio.

*

Dio Wellington, self-employed under the business name of Mr Computer Cleaner was delirious that the young woman from last night had miraculously come into possession of his address and has emailed him. Pleased at her initiative he looked at her name on the email: Carra with a C, not a K, and two R's; he must remember that. He wondered if she really thought that he, ten plus years older that she, was likeable. He thought she was – totally, and a very bright girl!

Dio left on his first call, loudly humming 'You Are So Beautiful' well knowing why that song had jumped into his mind. 

Fiona Stokes, 3 Brightside Apartments, 13 Smith Road

It was a ground floor apartment so Dio knocked on the door that opened to a small patio.

"Enter the passage through the foyer, you fool," called a woman. "And stand in front of the video camera so I get a clear view of you before letting you in."

Oh, the charming Miss or Mrs Stokes, waking up with a sore head after hitting the gin bottle last night. Well, grumpy Miss/Mrs Stokes can Dr Helpdesk remove your spleen while removing filth from your computer, you temperamental lady.

Walking to the foyer Dio wondered why all of his calls were from people of European origins. Where were the Indians, Turks, Pacific Islanders, Laplanders, Maoris and Egyptians with filth-on-my-computer problems? Perhaps it was a culturally sensitive issue, with Indians requiring an Indian Helpdesk man, and Laplanders requiring a Helpdesk man who made house calls by sled and Islanders would only want a tribally-acceptable technician to call. Either that or else they were not into filth, but wasn't filth endemic in the culture of some people of Indian, Turkish, English or Egyptian origin? 

Perhaps the answer was that pretty pornographic images were just that – pretty images, and appealed to some minorities of every race.

Wow, he thought; what inspirational thinking, standing in front of the high-mounted camera, waiting to be beamed up.

"Who are you?"

"Dio from Helpdesk; you called me."

"I did. Dio's a funny name."

"My mom would have bopped you one for saying that."

"Cheeky bugger, aren't you; confirms you are who you say you are; rapists have no humor."

"I wouldn't guarantee that's a correct assumption."

"Do you want to come in or not?"

"Please yourself."

"My, you really are a cheeky bugger. As Clint Eastwood says, 'Make my day'."

A buzzer sounded and the door opened.

"I'm up here in the lounge which is my bedroom."

She wasn't really old, about forty-five but there was an empty gin bottle beside her and she told him to call her Fiona.

"Been in a bit of trouble?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah, had a hip done last year and the other a while ago. The first replacement went brilliantly but this one's turned to shit, and now I have back problems as well, so currently I spend most of the day in bed and go to the bathroom on this chariot," she said, patting a very basic looking wheelchair beside her bed.

"That's bad luck."

"Perhaps it is, but I gave my body a pounding when I was young and now am paying for it." She waved her hand at one of the walls.

Dio looked at the multitude of photographs. This woman appeared to have done everything – a child ballerina, a gymnast as a teenager, a hurdler as a young woman and then she diversified into mountaineering, riding with the hunt and show jumping. Ribbons were pinned to the wall and the glass cabinet below was filled with cups and silver mugs and trays.

"I went hell-for-leather at everything, and tried to do my very best," she said. "In the process I even wore out two husbands, making the mistake each time of marrying older men as they were the ones with the money. Nowadays, of course, many young women are really wealthy from their own endeavors. Anyway, you are not here to learn my life story."

"Bed is not a choice place for someone with your background," said Dio, wanting to display sympathy.

"Listen, if you're going to feel sorry for me, piss off now and take your money."

"What's the problem on your computer Fiona?"

"Well, this may be a bit embarrassing for you but not me. My second husband was French, in love with his own body. So we used to photograph and film his very good physique for a man of his age, and then the cameras later turned on me and eventually we got into recording ourselves having sex together; you know, like big kids."

Dio didn't understand that last comment except that she may have meant they indulged in immature behavior.

"Many people say if you've got it, flaunt it," he said helpfully.

"Yeah, I thought so too. But now I want all of this stuff off the big box because I want to trade it in for a laptop. I was slightly famous, you know as I competed at two Commonwealth Games so imagine what the Sunday papers would do if some of these images got into their hands! My parents are still alive – mum was high up in church work, so imagine her embarrassment!"

"Right, I suggest we put everything you want onto CDs and then I totally clean your computer including all hard drives."

"Sounds good to me."

Dio placed his clean-up disk into the CD drive and selecting a number of tools to load. "I'm ready; tell me where to find the so-called filth. I'd like to have a look at some of the still images or if you wish I can totally delete them sight unseen."

"Why would you want to look? I am not very developed in the breasts department."

"I suspect that in your younger days you had a beautiful body, and what you said about your late husband he must have been in rather good shape if he admired himself."

"Well, better than average I do declare, but self-adoration is a bit like a disease, you know – a mental disease."

"I know, but what's your verdict?"

"Take a gander, but don't be too long about it. And don't salivate down your chin – I'll be watching you."

"An aficionado like me would not do such a thing," replied Dio sharply.

"Oh my, what a big word. Well, are you going to look? Look in 'Summer Striptease' for some of the better ones of me and in 'Kitchen Table' which shows Maurice and me really getting into it. On those occasions we had a camera on a tripod and I would trip the shutters with a little radio device in my hand. Sometimes of course I would get so carried away that I would forget to press the button."

Dio thought they were beautiful pictures of her but unrestrained sex on the kitchen table was a little too much over the top for his taste. It was definitely pornographic.

"What do you think?" 

"Ah, kitchen sex is a bit too beyond my tastes, but those photographs of you – they're wonderful. A collector would pay heaps for a set of those, big money if the set was guaranteed exclusive."

"Not interested. I don't want some old rich creep playing with himself while flicking through photographs of me."

"I think you should keep some of these – in the future you may wish to remember how it was," Dio urged. "I really do recommend that you do this. I can save them as encrypted files on to CD that can only be opened by the person or persons possessing the password."

"Very well, but what if I forget the password?"

"What was your private nickname for your second husband?"

"Oh my God, how embarrassing – Big Willie."

"Are you likely to forget that nickname?"

"Not until my memory totally collapses."

"Good, then that will be the password. If you wish to assure yourself of total privacy, never write that nickname down. Just rely on your memory; some memories are indelible."

One hour and forty-four minutes after his arrival, Dio had everything saved on CD and then wiped the disks and reinstalled the operating system and reloaded her other software and personal files. He made them coffee, relieved to hear that in a fortnight Fiona would have her right hip replacement re-done.

As he was leaving he promised he would call within a few weeks to see how she was getting on. He grinned, saying that his password when standing at the door would be 'Kitchen Table'.

"Be off, you young sex-o," admonished Fiona, laughing.

Bambi Brazil, caravan, back of house 39 Hay Paddock Street

Dio got it right for a change, thinking the obvious that the woman at this address with a name like Bambi Brazil was likely to be a stripper, a big breasted stripper. She was.

"Hi, I'm Bambi," she said, and just like in the movies was dressed in a thin housecoat and extended a hand languidly in greeting. The hand was cool to hold.

"Come in," she invited.

Dio promised himself to keep on his best behavior; she was gorgeous.

"What's the problem?"

She looked at Dio. "My worst problem is my parents, especially dad. When he and his hoon friends came to the club all liquored up he went berserk when he saw me doing my dance in a gold cage. 'Get dressed and get yourself home', he shouted at me. I watched, professionally unmoved, as two of our security guys bundled him out of the door. It wasn't a pretty sight because he began swinging punches so they man-handled him."

Dio guessed the rest and she nodded when he said: "You arrived home and all of your things were dumped on the porch and there was a note saying sleep in the caravan until you repent?"

"That's about it; although I'm not sure that repent is in dad's vocabulary. I think his note said until I returned to being a good girl."

"So, you are an orphan?"

"Not quite, mom cooks enough dinner for three people and while he's washing his hands she sneaks mine across to me. I don't go off to work until nine. I had told him that I worked night shift in a factory tinning cat food; I told him that because we don't have a cat so he would not be surprised that I wasn't bringing home free samples."

"Do you bring home any free samples from your present job?"

Bambi chuckled.

"You're a naughty boy, Mr Helpdesk. Dad only suspects I am getting drunk on liquor, high on drugs and sated with sex, but until recently nothing was further from the truth – the sex thing, I mean. I don't drink and I certainly don't do drugs. One night recently I did bring a sample home from work – Roland a male stripper who performs as the Laughing Policeman in our comedy slot. He helped himself and I fell for him; that's where we're at. He's looking for a larger flat and I'll move in with him."

"Well," Dio said, looking at his watch. "Let's move on, shall we?"

Bambi handed him the money, probably some of the hard-won money mused Dio, thrown into her cage by a couple of workers from the town's car assembly plant, leaving the kids to go without new shoes for yet another week.

"It's from my wages, not money thrown into the pit," she explained, as if reading his mind. "Constable Plod – that's his stage name like mine is Bambi – wants me to bring my computer with me because he doesn't have one. I have stuff on it I don't want him to see."

"Porn?"

"Good heavens no; pictures of me as a baby, pictures of me on the beach in the nude every summer from the age of two until about eleven – you know the kind of stuff; embarrassing family photos. Somewhere there are photos of dad kissing me – I don't want him seeing that because Constable Plod hates dad's guts for tossing me out of my home."

"I see – where are these pictures?"

"The ones I have found are in a file on d:drive called 'Annie's Lot' – you see my real name is Annie. So I want you to find all the others and put them in that file and then I wonder if you could save them on to a CD. My computer doesn't have a CD drive as you can see, but Constable Plod is going to buy one as he wants to play his mate's games and they have to be downloaded from CDs."

Dio zapped through his routine while Bambi collected her undies from the clothesline. When she returned she looked at the screen of the computer monitor and went scarlet.

"Oh my God, I though I had deleted all of those."

"You did, but my software found them in the recycle bin; naughty girl, you forgot to delete them from there."

"They're very rude, aren't they?"

"What, these? They are very explicit, very educational and very well done. They are good enough quality to be part of the core high school curriculum."

"These?"

"Yes."

"But parents would have a fit!"

"Yes, and that's the problem. The idea that teenagers should be aware of the '101 Ways to Copulate' is information parents wish to withhold from their children. It's a relic of mentality that has survived the times when most people believe the earth was flat. Tell me, Bambi, why did you download '101 Ways to Copulate'?"

"Well, as I grew older I was coming under more and more pressure to engage in sexual activity and I just wanted to make sure I was well educated about it."

The admission did not surprise Dio. "Did you ask your mother for advice?"

"Yes, she said I should lie down on the floor, legs apart, make sure my partner was wearing a condom, and then hug him as he lay down on me, and if I didn't enjoy what was happening then I should pretend I was and groan a bit and moan a lot."

"And that's all?"

"Yes."

"But why the floor?"

"I didn't ask."

"Now, do you see why I believe this quality production '101 Ways to Copulate' should be compulsory study for senior students at school."

"Yes I do, most definitely. Look, why don't you leave it on the computer. I am sure Constable Plod thinks there are only three ways."

She thought that was a great idea.

Bambi walked Dio out to his vehicle.

"Neat ute. You're a swell guy; nice to meet a bloke without all of the hang-ups like my father and his generation."

They shook hands, and Dio gave a couple of heavy thumps on the gas pedal before selecting second gear and flooring it, leaving Bambi happily waving to him shrouded in a blue haze from smoking tires.

Watching her disappear from view in his rear vision mirror, Dio sighed, and said aloud, "Her stupid father, isolating himself from a lovely young woman whose only defect is having a slightly kinky slant on life. Be kind to her, Constable Plod."

Sybil Rowe, 42 Cowslip Terrace

This call was to one of those expensive houses on the banks of the river that flowed beside the nor-eastern end of the town, flooding lower-lying properties on the flats when the '100-year' floods came every twenty-five years or so. The garage doors were open and Dio saw one space was empty – hubby was at work, he thought – next to that space were a blue Italian sports car and then a grunt looking ski boat.

"We're in the money, we're in the money," he said to himself softly, not at all jealous that these folk were well heeled.

It was the second thin housecoat of the day to be worn to the door. "I'm sorry," said the dyed-blonde forty-something. "You're caught me almost undressed."

"No problem ma'am, I take my clients as I find them."

"Ooh, you sound as if you are rather naughty," she said, taking a good look at Dio. "Why don't by come in and plant your butt on a kitchen stool and I'll make you a nice cup of coffee."

Dio did what he was told. Then something clicked. "Say, did you turn into High Street yesterday ignoring the compulsory stop and then boot your car towards the city centre?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did get a ticket for speeding yesterday but the cop accepted my explanation that I stopped at the corner."

"Like hell you did."

"I know, but some men like it when women lie to them while looking so innocent. I had that guy really licking his lips."

"You were lucky."

"No I wasn't. He then turned officious and issued a speeding ticket. He said he couldn't let me off that because his video recorded my speed at forty-eight miles an hour. He said he would have clocked me higher but some dumb bastard in a red Holden pick-up got in the way. Was that a red ute I saw you come up in?" she asked, fluttering her eyes at Dio slightly.

"Er, yes, I suppose so."

"Don't you know what you drive?"

Dio flushed and then thought of something. "Of course, it's just that some women like men being a bit evasive at times."

"Ooh, I'm going to really like you," she said, moving up against him. "I'll sit right here next to you; it's a bit chilly, isn't it?"

She's moving in for the kill like an aging lioness, thought Dio. "Look, I'm flat stick. Let me take my coffee into the computer."

She didn't object and led him into the study where the computer with its wall-mounted 24 in LCD screen was located. The problem, said she, was that it was loaded with hundreds of photos of women with big breasts. After dinner her husband would go into the study and stay there all evening with the door close doing what he called research. By the time he came to bed she would be asleep and more often than not he was up and dressed in the morning before she awoke.

"Here's your money, now get rid of them!"

But there was a problem. "Whose computer is this?"

"My husband's."

"Sorry," said Dio, attempting to hand the money back. "It would be unethical and perhaps legally messy for me to remove items from your husband's computer without his authority."

Sybil looked as if she was going to throw a tantrum.

"Wait!" cried Dio anxiously. "I can instruct you and you can do the deletions. He won't sue his wife and even if he did no judge is going to convict a wife who was defending her territory by exterminating images of her competitors."

"But I don't know anything about computers except how to look at them," she said.

"I shall teach you – but look, please go and put some clothes on. You have been making me feel a little uncomfortable."

"Yes, of course. What would you like me to wear?"

"Jeans, a heavy sweater and ski gloves will be dandy," Dio joked. Sybil replied that jeans and the sweater were fine, but she didn't have ski gloves; could she wear gardening gloves instead? They laughed.

They worked as a team with Sybil wiping all the graphics that she wanted deleted. "He's going to rant and rave after dinner tonight when he comes in here to perv," she said nervously.

"If I were you, as soon as dinner is finished I'd go out for a drive and not come back for an hour. By then your husband sanity may have returned."

Jilli Smith, Backend Road

Dio looked up his client list and called Jilli's number. "You didn't give me the number of your property," Dio said, after introducing himself. 

"You won't need it," she said. "Nobody else has built here yet. They don't like the name of the street but the developer is refusing to change the name, saying it commemorates the back boundary of the former farm – you know the back end of the farm? He believes retired farmers will buy the sections."

"I'll be with you in a few minutes," Dio said, and the woman sounded excited, replying "That's wonderful."

Dio couldn't believe it when seeing her standing at the door. His third client of the morning and she, too, was wearing a thin housecoat. What was this – National Housecoat Day? He noted there were two cars in the garage.





Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 02



Jilli led him to the computer. "We had two very erotic films on our computer and now they have disappeared. We need you to check to see if they are still there somewhere. We don't fully understand the techniques of searching," she said, gently dropping three twenty dollars into his hand and stroking his arm gently before stepping away. Out of the corner of his eye Dio noticed her loosen the tie of her gown.

"Did you load the film clips off a disk or off the Internet?"

"The Internet."

"Where were they saved to?"

"The My Video folder."

"Of course."

"The problem is all but three have being deleted, the remaining three are so tame we could easily allow the children to view them."

Dio opened My Videos and saw almost fifty clips were there.

So what was the problem? Then he saw it – only three had their extensions. Those three had an avi extension, so he copied the other forty-two to a new folder, used one of his tools to systematically add '.avi' to each filename and then searched for all avi files in Windows Media Player. All appeared; he opened one that showed a couple going hard at it on what appeared to be a concrete wall overlooking a beach.

"Ouch," said Dio, and Jilli clapped her hands. "Splendid – just look at them go!"

Dio flushed, and closed down the program. "They are all there – someone had deleted the file extensions."

Jilli clapped her hand over her mouth, but Dio still heard the exclamation, "Oh, dear!" She explained that before she and her husband went on a ski trip to Wanaka, Frank had deleted the extensions in case his mother, who was staying with the children, roamed the computer and opened those files.

"Time passed and I guess Frank and I simply forget what we had done," she said. "These were the best of hundreds that we had downloaded from the web. Now, how can I reward you," she asked needlessly, already having opened her housecoat.

Dio observed that she was a little plump and was red-hair top and bottom. Clutching his toolbox of disks, screw drivers, tweezers and an assortment of other items including a compressed air aerosol, Dio knew that he should leave, the inclination to do so turned into a klaxon-like warning blaring in his brain. She began walking off, inviting him to go with her to the bedroom, pausing to whisper, "Frank's in the wardrobe – he likes to watch."

Dio can't recall his feet hitting the floor as he raced out to his vehicle and backed down the driveway, almost clipping a heavy gatepost.

"I bet some of those video clips are of their bedroom victims," Dio thought angrily before he grinned and then burst into laughter.

Victor Tuson, 2a Church Lane 

If this client appears at the doorstep in a housecoat I'm off, Dio promised. He noted that the first property in the street was a pretty Anglican Church, now converted into tearooms. The little weatherboard and rusty iron roofed house behind it, 2a, was obviously the former vicarage. Amid such an historic background, it was unlikely there would be a deviant living here, and that naïve assumption proved correct.

A white-hair elderly man leaning on a walking frame was waiting for him at the door. He certainly didn't look the type who'd have his zip undone, thought Dio with relief.

"Are you a boy racer?" challenged the old fellow.

"No, why should you think that"

"Your vehicle boy, your vehicle; that's no Morris Minor!"

"No, it's got a whole lot more horses under the bonnet than the half of horse the Morrie had – but great little cars in their time, weren't they?"

"Yes indeed boy. When I arrived in this parish I inherited my predecessor's Austin Seven, which many years earlier had been purchased in exchange for the pony and trap. Then many years later I was given a Morris Minor by one of our wealthy parishioners who coveted my baby."

"Good heavens, you traded in your baby?"

"Heavens used in that context is blasphemy my boy. You remember that."

"Yes sir."

"No, you twit - my old Austin Seven. It had such a low mileage and had been so carefully cared for that the so-called generous William T. Battersby knew that his generous gift in the name of God would return dividends. With that exchange he possessed a car that fetched a great price from a collector. Well, let's get on with it. Call me Vic. The whole community knows me as Vic the Vicar – makes me sound almost as infamous as Max the Axe Murderer, doesn't it. Aha, aha, aha; I never tire of that joke."

A joke? "Very good, sir. I am Dio as you know, from mobile Helpdesk."

"Greetings to you, Dion," said the retired or redundant vicar, shaking hands.

"Dio." 

"That's what I said, Dion." 

Vic the Vicar's problem was that the illustrations in his folder called 'Good Heavens' were a mixture of angelic images painted, drawn or etched by Old Masters mixed with fantasies and extremely luscious portraits photographed by pornographers.

"What is the problem?" asked Dio, grinning.

"You're a bit of a smart-ass, aren't you Dion," said Vic, smacking himself on the hand and saying, 'I must not use that term, I should say smart-bottom'."

"So, you want me to build you a folder within 'Good Heavens' for the celestial images and another for the others called 'Images from Hell'?"

With a faint smile licking his mouth, Vic said, "Let's get on with it, Dion. I want all of the images from hell deleted and I want you to show me how to blockade my good computer to prevent it being over-run by such filth."

"It's in your hands, Vic; in your hands. You should look at files you find by searching for 'Angels' before downloading them. But look, you've spent your career upholding community standards, so I shall make it easier for you. I shouldn't really be giving you a copy of this software..."

"Is giving it to me illegal, Dion?"

"No, well technically, yes."

"But no spiritually illegal?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Then your innocence is good enough for me, Dion; download it please."

Dio did that and wrote a prompt file with a shortcut to the desktop to remind the old fellow how to use it.

"See, select this button that says, 'Scan for Adult Material'. It will do its best to bring up all filthy stuff but you'll have to excuse it if it brings up an angel or two. Then you have the option of what images you wish to delete, and bingo – mission accomplished. The software will overwrite those dastardly files several times, completely destroying all traces of them, leaving Satan gnashing his teeth and the on-duty archangel smiling at you and saying, 'Bless you my son, although isn't that what Catholic priests say?"

"You're a smart prick, aren't you Dion," said Vic, sighing. He didn't admonish himself over that lapse, but went off to get the money. 

Dio was wondering whether it would be held out to him in a souvenir collection plate, but was disappointed. It came as a little muslin bag of silver coins. That prompted an uncharitable thought about the origins of that silver, but he quickly diverted his mind.

Vic limped to the door supported by his trolley.

"Having a knee replacement done next month," he explained, pointing to his left knee but then hastily pointing to the right knee. "It will be a freebie – the surgeon and the rest of the team are mostly former parishioners as is the administration manager of the hospital. Technically they should not be doing it without charge, but they confided that spiritually they had no inhibitions about doing what they thought was right."

What a character thought Dio, turning to wave at the picket gate.

"Good bye Dio," called Vic the Vicar. "You're quite a character, you know. Take care with your driving, your tenancy towards blasphemy and be very vigilant against succumbing to indecent propositions when making house calls. I wasn't always successful with that one."

Dio drove away chuckling. The old prick had known all along his name was not Dion, and to think of him humping away in his cassock. 

Do vicars wear cassocks?

* * *

After buying four sausage rolls, sauce, two bananas and a carton of milk from a convenience store, Dio went down a side road to a deserted area on a cliff top over looking the river. Most nights the parking lot would be packed with the vehicles of courting couples as they still were called, although these days perhaps half of the parkers were married couples though not accompanied by their spouses.

Dio liked to revisit because of nostalgia. It was here that Sarisha after numerous frustrations finally had her way with him and thereafter repeatedly. He'd kept in the family by bringing her younger sister here. Celina Mellon had also liked him bringing her here as did ... "Cripes don't bring up any more names up," he chided. "They are now all respectably married women, or so folk assume."

Munching a sausage roll while leaning against the hood of the ute, Dio thought about his life, thinking that it had unraveled reasonably well, so far, the only really big minus being his mum's premature death. He recalled those early days when becoming aware that his mother was crying because his father had been hitting her, demanding more money to enable him to buy more drink. It was some time before he learned the significance of that term 'drink' – that his father meant booze, not milk or lemon squash that were the favorites of Dio's. Then the beatings seem to stop when more money appeared in the house and his mother became very happy. That made Dio happy, too. 

He grinned, remembering the time when he asked his mom why didn't she do her work out in the greenhouse, and she had replied, "Do you school homework, you silly boy. My clients find it too hot out in the greenhouse, my bedroom is much cooler'. Then she'd laughed and said if the most profitable part of her consultancy took place in the greenhouse, wouldn't the neighbors have something to talk about? He hadn't understood the significance of that because his mother often spent quite some time talking to women in the greenhouse.

His mom helped him with his homework. She also wanted him to excel in some kind of sport. He tried roller skating but fell on the third visit to the rink and broke his arm. When that was better it was winter, so she got enrolled him into his grade at rugby. But on the first occasion the coach called him out to play, with five minutes to go, he went down in the first ruck and stayed down, this time with his other arm broken. Nancy decided that as he had liked making sand castles as a youngster, perhaps he could become a famous potter. So he was enrolled at Mrs Hannah's School of Pottery, but lasted less than a month, bringing home a note and a refund from Mrs Hannah saying he was disruptive in class and that he was displaying "absolutely no talent". Nancy went down to "sort out that horrible Mrs Hannah", whatever that meant. He remembered her coming home with a bleeding mouth, but smiling. Dio heard her say to his father, "You ought to see Mrs Scumbag Hannah."

At school sports day one of the sprinters limped off with a sprain just as Dio was passing. Coach Holland grabbed him and said, "Take his place boy." The winner of the 100 yards race was over the line before Dio had got to the 50-yard mark, and when red-faced Dio finally crossed the line everyone was rolling about laughing, parents as well. Dio, who was fourteen at the time, vividly remembered the embarrassment and slinking away, tears running down his cheeks. His thoughts drifted back.

"I'll show the tit-lickers," he'd swore, not having a clue what it meant but big boys caught saying it were strapped by the headmaster, so he knew is was even worse than saying Christ or Bejesus – words that his parents regularly used but cuffed him when he attempted to follow their example. So, every day after arriving home from school he went down to the river flats and practiced 100 yard and 200 yard runs, and start and finishing sprints. Eventually he was ready to try himself out competitively. He saw Sarisha's younger sister walking along the flats, so challenged her to a race.

"Why?" she'd asked.

"Just because," he replied, the profoundness of that reply satisfying her. 

Kamala chose the one hundred yards, which was marked out with stakes. She streaked off as soon as he shouted "Go" and won by at least ten yards. Dio was devastated.

"Oh you poor thing," she cooed, noting the tears in his eyes. "You can only get better."

Dio, who thought that was an odd thing to say, sat down and sulked.

"Should we try 200 yards?"

Dio looked at her: "Only if you promise to do your very best."

She nodded, they raced, and she just won.

"Perhaps you should practice running longer distances she suggested, as the first of the winter's rain began to fall.

It rained all winter, and the river flats flooded twice. But each day after school Dio pounded down the length of the strip which he had calculated was half a mile. Each late afternoon Kamala turned up to encouraged him. It was a slog through the water and especially the mud. But he realized something was happening; it became easier to do one whole length without stopping and before the winter's end he was doing at least three lengths; then on one glorious early spring evening, he accomplished ten non-stop.

In the first week of the third term at school, which was early September, the whole school practiced for the cross-country running race. Dio's class was in the intermediate section, and he worked on following the leaders. Old Ma Holland watched him on the final practice day. She was the oldest teacher at the school, and had been a runner in her day. She fancied herself and that's why she appeared in running gear with a whistle around her neck and all the kids had to call her Coach Holland.

"Dion." (he wasn't in her class) she called. He cringed at being bawled out and went over to her.

"Who's been coaching you?" she demanded.

"No one, Miss," he'd replied, wondering why she'd invent such a thing.

"Coach Holland, if you please. Look, you're running with great fluidness but good God boy, hold your arms up higher and pull your finger out – you look as if you can run much faster."

"Pull your finger out?" 

Dio knew what that meant, as his mother was always saying it to him though he was never aloud to say it. Ma Holland was being very naughty saying that. But he had no idea what she meant by being fluid or whatever she'd said. "Yes coach," he said, noting a couple of other kids had heard her comments and were smirking at him.

He arrived at school next morning for the big race. The juniors were to run their course first, then his lot then the seniors. As he walked to his schoolbag his heart sank; he'd forgotten to bring his sandshoes as sneakers were called in those days. He secured Miss Jones' permission to go home and off he ran, changed shoes and ran all the way back.

Coach Holland greeted him with a bellow. "Dion you butthead; where have you been? I thought's you might get a top ten finish but the intermediates left two minutes ago. Off you go."

"No Miss."

"Coach Holland, if you please. What do you mean by disobeying me?"

"I've no hope of catching the leaders; I would have more chance winning the senior division."

"Fat-so King, the school bully, chortling himself into a choking fit, until Coach Holland slammed him on his back, knocking him to the ground.

"Running outside your age grouping is against school rules Dion. I am sorry, but that's that."

"Come on Coach, my sister says he's developed into a neat runner," said Kamala's big brother Jivin.

"Yeah," said his mates.

"Don't be a wimp, Ma Holland," said a voice from within the group assembling behind the start line.

"Who said that?"

"He did."

"She did."

"He did."

"Stop, you cheeky buggers," snapped Coach Holland "Line up, smartly. She told Dio, "You start at the back; I don't want you being killed in the stampede."

Of course, the finish had one of those storybook endings. The whole school apart from the senior runners was at the finish and as the first two runners came into view Coach Holland was jumping up and down, her ample bosom flaying under her singlet like a melons on a conveyor belt.

"C'mon you little devil, c'mon Dion!" she shouted.

A roar went up as the whole school began to chant, "Dio, Dio."

Dio didn't know what to do. He could have been in the lead sometime back, he was sure of that. But he didn't know the layout of the route, so when Jivin went into the lead he simply ran up to follow him. Now it would be unfair to overtake Jivin because it was he who'd led the push to allow him to run with the seniors.

Jivin looked behind, saw that Dio was still there and waved him through. Dio loped up beside him, shaking his head.

"Go Dio, become a hero; it might be the only chance you get. You are the only non-Indian guy my sisters really like, you know."

The thought of the lovely sisters actually liking him enough to tell their brother fired something inside Dio; experiencing uplift he sprinted to the finish.

Sarisha and Kamala hugged him as soon as he crossed the line and yuck, so did Ma Holland. Jivin came in second and shook his hand, and that's when the photographer on the local newspaper took the photograph published in next day's paper under the heading, 'Dio, Dio – Be a Hero, chanted the School'.

Dio went home and his mother asked, "It was that run at school today, wasn't it – how did you get on."

"Oh, all right," was the reply.

Next morning when his mother was reading the newspaper Dio heard her shout, "You lying little bugger. Why didn't you tell me about this!"

Well, thought Dio, that was one of the most gratifying moments of his life. His mother came at him and smothered his with kisses and said, "Their hero? You're my hero." =

Shaking himself out of those long ago memories and drinking his milk before starting his two bananas, Dio thought he'd done a few things in his life that he was not particularly thrilled about. One was having sex with Kamala as he was her first seducer. He was unable to stop himself as she had become so passionate, saying if he were bonking her sister why not her? He didn't have a logical reply to her question and nor did he wish to disappoint her.

The other sin was being deceitful. He had no formal qualifications in computer technology; his knowledge was limited to his evolution of skills from working in IT departments and some training sessions, plus what he'd picked up using his home computer and reading computer magazines and visiting 'How To' computer sites on the web. He'd even created himself a computer technician's certificate from the School of Computer Technology, Kangaville, New South Wales – a place he'd invented. Because of his academic 'qualifications' he secured his first job on a company's Helpdesk, with the company not bothering to verify his background because he'd interviewed so confidently and seemed to project expertise. He left that firm possessing a glowing reference and thereafter successive employers added to his folio of testimonials.

Right, you lying, conniving bugger and wayward seducer, back to work and conform to being a model citizen, he told himself

He drove off thinking about Kamala, now a doctor in Dunedin and married with two children. Jivin was a economist with a bank in London and, of course, one of his favorite women, their sister Sarisha, owned and drove her own cab and was married to Amol who currently worked at stocking the wine shelves in the town's largest supermarket.

Maggie Manu, 17 Buttercup Lane

With that name she was probably married to a Maori, thought Dio, as he drove up the drive, parking behind a Ford Falcon turbo six.

A dark-skinned man answered the door, and yes, he was Mr Manu and Dio introduced himself as Dio Wellington, Mr Computer Cleaner.

"Good, was hoping it was you; I've come home because you indicated you would call after lunch. My wife is a good-looking chick and I've heard all about you guys who make house calls," he said, laughing.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 02



"I always welcome a spouse being in attendance," replied Dio gravely.

"No worries mate, I was only kidding," Mr Manu said. He stepped out on to the terrace to look across to the driveway."

"Hey, nice wheels; is she a six or eight?

"Eight."

"Nice. Well, let's go inside and here's your money. Maggie knows the computer so will explain what she wants."

Maggie wasn't a beauty in looks, but Dio guessed her husband saw her differently, and he glimpsed that when she greeted him, her smile lighting her face and her lively green-eyes. She was also very pregnant.

"Our baby is due within two weeks," she explained. "We want him or her brought up in a beautiful environment, so Ricky and I agreed when we found that our baby was on the way that we would moderate our behavior – no more smoking weed, binge drinking or naughty parties but we'd forgotten the stuff we have on the computer. "I've trashed much of it, but am still occasionally finding things. I want you to remove all traces of anything dirty on it."

Dio loaded his special software. "This will search for adult-related images. It certainly will detect most of them. I need you to stay and to tell me which ones to delete as not all will be porn images, so you may wish to keep some of them."

Within fifteen minutes that was all done. Dio had time to fill.

"Look, tell me the names of songs or pieces of music you'd like your baby as an infant to hear. Some says it helps to develop music appreciation at any early age, even in the womb."

Maggie named twenty-two titles before faltering, and Dio said that would do. He then searched some music sites and downloaded the various files. He saved the file to disk under Baby's Music and cut two CDs.

"Keep one of these CDs in your music collection and another in your car. Babies often go to sleep when they hear familiar music."

"Oh, it's so good having an expert like you on the job, Dio. How many children do you have?"

"Pass, I'm a bachelor without a girlfriend."

"Oh my God, I've got a couple of friends who are not between the sheets at present who'd be all over you – you could choose, or perhaps they may want you to be with both of them."

"Well," said Dio blushing. "That is a very generous offer that I must decline with thanks."

"Oh, so you prefer male company?"

"Hell no, no way. It's just that this girl is dating me this Friday and perhaps she will take a fancy to me." 

"Oh Dio, I'm so excited for you!"

"What's this; you're not exciting my wife are you? Too much excitement and you'll encourage her to break her waters."

"I have no desire to interfere with nature Mr Manu..."

"Call my Ricky. 

"OK, and sorry, Maggie, please keep calm."

"Oh, don't take any notice of Ricky, Dio. He's a panic merchant. Ooh, baby's kicking – feel!"

Dio recoiled back two steps, but Ricky pushed him forward: "Go on mate, it's only her belly she is asking you to feel. Do it and experience a most wonderful feeling. The first time I felt it I was in tears – me, a former bar-room brawler."

Dio felt the baby's movements; it was rather an eerie experience. Slightly reminiscence of the first time he experienced penetration, he thought. Bodies were wonderful things.

"What do you think?" Maggie asked. "What did you think?"

He said it felt eerie. As sure as hell he wasn't going to mention that other thought, not with her solidly built husband standing behind him and saying something that could send her into shrieks of laughter, causing her waters to break.

"Dio, what a nice and unusual name," Maggie said, as he was leaving.

Oh no, don't name a boy Dio, thought Dio. He'll be teased.

"Dion has a little bit more class," he offered.

"Bye mate," said Ricky. "Thanks for helping to improve baby's environment."

Driving out of Buttercup Lane, Dio stopped and in his digital diary for the next two weeks placed an entry – Check birth notices Manu; send appropriate present. He resumed his calls, whistling 'Hush Little Baby'. His mom had always been singing as she'd performed her home duties and he'd picked up scores of songs from her – perhaps a hundred or more. During a lull in whistling and humming he suddenly remembered he was expected to make a nocturnal call on Louise next week when her husband was out of town. He phoned her to cancel, and she sounded very disappointed. But when he said he had a promising date she screamed with delight; a lovely woman was Louise.

* * *

Right on his planned time to be home by 4.00 on Friday afternoon, Dio unlocked the side door to his small weatherboard house with its grey-painted corrugated iron roof. He turned on the bath and added the last of his mom's favorite bath salts that she always used on special occasions – like having his father take her out to dinner, and that had been a rare event; the bath salts were probably a hundred years old!

He shaved and then went to get some clothes out and stopped dead. Oh hell he thought: formal or informal? He decided to go in-between, something that Nancy had always urged him to wear, something she'd called 'smart casual'.

He took out his favorite light blue sheen shirt, but then put it away again; dancing would show perspiration. He chose instead a dark linen shirt and a singlet to soak up any rampant moisture. Cotton navy pants came off the hanger and matching socks from the drawer. The black shoes – with leather soles good for dancing – were not shiny. He still hadn't got used to his mom not being around to polish his shoes. He went to the laundry and cleaned and polished them, thinking that any mother doing this chore for an adult son must truly love him. 

That thought brought a gentle smile to his face, the kind of smile the mused his partner for the night may have observed when he first approached Carra when she was stranded. Of course, until getting a good look at him Carra may have been worried that she might be flagging down a clone of Jack and Ripper. Carra, thought Dio. Carra what? 

He didn't even know her surname or even how old she was or where she lived or anything else about her, except she was a trainee events manager working for some outfit, she drove her mother's car and had access to a computer. Golly, he thought, I'm taking a bit of a risk going on a blind date with her. What if she is a nun's daughter? He thought about that, before accepting that was very unlikely a nun would have a child unless she was a naughty nun.

He poured a 'water on the rocks' and put on a Thelonious Monk re-issue on CD and wandered back to the bathroom just in time to avert a bathroom and hallway flood. After bathing, slicking down his hair and gargling two rounds of mouthwash, he lay back on the sofa and allowed Thelonious to send him into dreamland.

A loud banging on the door roused him and he raced to see who it was.

"Good evening," smiled Carra, looking great in a very short back dress with thin shoulder straps. "Is this the way to greet a lady?"

Now wide-awake, he realized what she was looking at; he was dressed only in his underpants. His hands leaped to protect himself from her gaze; he yelped and as he disappeared through the doorway called, "Please come in. Oh God, I am so sorry; I fell asleep until stirred by your knocking."

"So, it's my fault, is it?"

"Oh no, please. My fault entirely."

He was deeply into it; time to lie. "I was dreaming of you in a white ball grown and tiara when somebody knocked on the door."

"A tiara? Well, that suggests you've got some class. I perhaps could image you dreaming about me being totally undressed?"

Time to shift into neutral, defusing with a question: "Who, me?"

There was no answer until she called, "So you like Thelonious?"

"Yeah, my mom loved him and I loved the music she loved. I'm surprised that you even know him."

"Born during World War 1, pianist composer now dead, compositions including 'Round Midnight', '52nd  Street Theme'. Want me to continue? Actually, it's you who has surprised me; next you will be telling me you know who Nora Jones is."

"Composer, pianist, singer – I'm currently playing one of her CDs in my ute and the second CD is there in front of you somewhere," said Dio, entering the room.

"My, you look nice though perhaps I preferred your earlier attire."

"Cheeky bitch."

"That's not nice."

"I know, but used with slight emphasis of endearment."

"Oh, my, and that's supposed to excuse your uncouthness?" she said, her pretty compact face full of smile.

"Of course."

"Well, who am I to argue that? Shall we go? As organizer I cannot be late. The Council is already indicating that I'm a luxury, that they only require one events organizer."

"What, you work for the District Council?"

"Yes, does that make me a less desirable date for you?"

"I really like that dress."

"Do you," she said doing a twirl. Mama wouldn't buy it when I saw it and wanted it, so I took daddy to look at it; I'm daddy's girl."

He didn't reply; he was too busy looking at her as she completed the twirl. Her legs were magnificent, and she was very pretty. But there wasn't much to her – her breasts would easily cup into his hands. He jerked upright. God, having carnal thoughts already! You slob.

"Come on, start your motor while I lock up," he ordered.

She walked out briskly, her hips swaying a little. He only just avoided walking into the door jam. 

For a female, she was a good driver - very smooth, actually; taught very carefully and expertly by her father no doubt. That was worth checking.

"You drive very well. Who taught you?"

"Mama."

"What's her claim to fame?

"Mama's just mom these days. She has her own dance studio. Once she was quite famous as a horsewoman and then as an adult within the dancing set as a Latin American specialist."

"That's interesting," he said, aghast. A dancing instructor! He was going to take to the floor with the daughter of a dancing champion – a daughter who probably drove more smoothly that he did. It promised to be a disastrous night, with his big feet crushing her toes!

"Good evening, Miss Fleming," said the burly man at the door of the Events Centre, a hub of entertainment activities with several buildings that Carra told him proudly had won a national design award for the local architect. Dio had a practiced eye and could easily have said that the centre looked as if it comprised of surplus buildings trucked in off farms. However, a wise man does not be a smart-ass to a woman of note. A woman of note was – yes – one of his mom's sayings. Dio's heart had experienced a minor flutter at the door when he first saw Carra in that neat little black dress, and when she twirled his hormones began to race. A woman of note, indeed!

But he was a mature guy, thirty-two and in control. So he remained conversationally intelligent. But that was difficult. Each time he turned to talk to her in the car he'd catch the line of her face to those very tempting lips and then it was down to a gracefully arched neck. He'd just caught a fragrance of perfume he recognized as Nina Ricci something Temps and it almost became too much. His hormones were stampeding ... he needed a diversion and found it, realizing Carra was addressing the man at the door.

"Hullo, Stan," she said. "This is my partner's ticket."

Expecting Stan to sneer, thinking fancy letting a shelia pay you to dance with her, Dio got it wrong as usual.

"Very nice to see you with Miss Fleming; you make a nice couple."

"Thank you," said Dio. They walked through towards the reception room opening off the main gallery that Dio had to admit was very impressive.

"Stan knows I am Carra, everyone does. I'm only twenty but because I am a trainee manager I just manage to slip into managerial class, and when the public is around – that's you in this case; staff are required to address us formally; it's rather old fashion, but so are both the Mayor and CEO."

Dio was elated. He felt like kissing her. She was twenty, still twelve years younger than he was, but not nearly as bad had she been only eighteen. At twenty his friends might not notice the age difference if Carra and he went on to date regularly.

A woman in a long blue evening gown and a flower in her hair came up to them, her lined face crinkling further into a warm smile. "Oh Carra, my dear; this room has been done so beautifully, it's a real credit to you. Now, who's this hunk?"

"Marion, please meet my partner for this evening, Dio Wellington. Dio, this is Marion Wells, a really famous author."

"Please to meet you madam," said Dio, not knowing to half bow or hold out his hand.

"Kiss my cheek, boy. I won't bite. The only reason why I come to these functions is to feel some young flesh against me."

Cripes, thought Dio, doing as he was told; she must be one of those authors who write hot little novels that make women squirm.

"Dio – is that short for Dioscorides as in Pedanius Dioscorides?"

His mouth fell open, and he stared at Marion Wells; she was the first person in his entire life to have made the connection!

"Answer her," Carra urged. "Marion is national president of the Book Writers' Federation."

"I'm sorry, Marion; you rather stunned me. No-one has ever made the connection before since my mother conferred me with that name – she was a herbalist."

"Well, that shouldn't be surprising, Dio. We are not an overly educated lot down here in the southern antipodes. I happened to major in ancient Roman and Greek history. Look, you must have a dance with me later; I'd like to have a namesake of Dioscorides in my arms."

"Gosh, she's showing a sexy side to her that I haven't seen before," commented Carra, watching the president, who lived locally, move to some new arrivals to do PR. 

"Well, you'd expect anyone who writes those sexy potboilers to be a bit sexy herself, would you not?"

Carra looked surprised. "Her hardbacks are certainly not potboilers – they average around sixty dollars and one is currently being made into a film in England. She's on to her seventh book in her series on Famous Women of Ancient Greece and now receives mostly rave reviews. She's becoming wealthy on her writings."

"Me and my quick jumps to conclusions," Dio said, offering a half-apology.

"I know, it's a bit of a habit of some men," replied Carra, making Dio wonder how a twenty-year-old would know that. She added, "From what I've been told," looking at him impishly.

"I'm one of those not overly educated people that Marion was talking about. You've going to have to tell me about your namesake one of these days."

Oh my word, thought Dio – 'One of these days'. She's intending to see me again! He was left alone as Carra went off to check on the refreshments, the band and supper. The room was filling up quite well.

A late-mid-aged man with thick fair hair, an abundant moustache and a pot belly approached him, carrying two glasses of wine. He handed one to Dio. "Here – Chambers' Gully chardonnay; I'm Rivers Fork."

Curbing a desire to check on that name because he was quite sure he'd heard the man correctly, Dio introduced himself as Dio Wellington.

"That's an odd name," said Rivers with a grin. "Are you a poet?"

"Good gracious no. It would take me a week to work out what rhymes with time."

"Ah, a smart bugger, eh. These days, of course, you can write poetry without rhyming." Lifting his glass, Rivers said, "Well happy days. I thought I was going to be stuck with dames advising me about their knowledge of poetry, such as saying they are aware that blank verse is made up of non-rhyming iambic pentameter lines. At that I would have to parry, saying 'Yes, but do you know that a heroic couplet is two lines of rhyming iambic pentameters?" Then, before she could answer, I would ask was their any chance of us doing a couplet together? Hee-hee, hee-hee. On the other hand, if the woman did not look delectable I would say, 'Look lady, here's a great limerick' and draw one from the bottom of my repertoire. I would then call 'Adios Senora" as she would quickly gallop to the far side of the room, head-swinging in panic as if looking for a policeman."

They laughed, and sipped their wine.

"This peculiar name of yours – it's unlikely to be short for Dion, because that's already short enough, and dioxide is again unlikely. So my guess it's short from some ancient Greek – Dionysus, my favorite God?"

"No, Dioscorides actually."

"Never heard of him, but I'm relatively uneducated."

"Why would your favorite be Dionysus?"

"He's the God of wine and fertility? Fertile woman are better in bed. Hee-hee, hee-ee."

"What are you two laughing about?"

Dio turned and a tall, big-chest smiling woman looking as though her bra had given up the ghost.

"Dio, this is Bridget Mounds – that's her pen-name, so-named for obvious reasons," Rivers snorted.

"You know that Rivers' real name is Dickhead, don't you Dion?"

She and Rivers laughed. She walked away after saying to Rivers, "A couplet is on tonight unless I get a better offer."

Rivers stroked his moustache, watching her walk away.

"Your name is not Dickhead, is it?"

"No lad, it is plain old Tom Brown, but who would want to listen to an itinerant poet attempting to become the New Zealand equivalent of Banjo Paterson – I guess you've never heard of him?"

Dio recited the first verse of 'As Long as your Eyes are Blue'. "That was written by Andrew Barton 'Banjo Paterson. We studied it at school."

Rivers was impressed. "Well, bugger me, at least one of those lazy bastards of school teachers got off his or her ass and gave you something of value."

"Oh yes, and I think you are being totally unfair to them. A lot of them are very devoted and work very hard."

"Think what you wish, but as I was saying who'd want to listen to a Tom Brown rattle off his verse. I fly fish a bit for trout in rivers and one day when I was fishing a fork a big trout broached right in front of me, scaring the daylights out of me. That evening I read that a young joker that seemed to be emerging as a new James Dean calling himself Rivers had topped himself. I grabbed a pencil and without thinking I wrote down Rivers Fork. I looked at it and decided to get my name changed to that name. As soon as I sent it my small manuscript of poems that had been rejected time and time again, was accepted under the name Rivers Fork. The publisher told me that the name would attract readers. Poetry doesn't sell well, but I've had money trickling back to me and now that I'm published I get paid to make appearances at country music festivals, in beer gardens and get the occasional gig at weddings. So, treasure your name, my lad. People who get it right will remember you."

The three-piece band started playing, but no one took to the floor. To Dio's horror Carra came floating towards him, her hand outstretched. She didn't have to say it, he knew.

"This one's got the hots for you son," whispered Rivers, taking Dio's glass.

"You can't dance, can you? I see terror in you eyes." Carra said, twirling around to just slip in against him backwards.

"I can jiggle and joggle to hip-hop and stuff like that, but not this slow classical stuff."

"It's a foxtrot. Just do anything and I shall follow; just move to the rhythm and have faith."

"Sorry," Dio said, as his first step was on to her left foot.

"Silly me, I missed my cue."

It wasn't his fault? Dio was relieved.

"There, I feel you are relaxing," she said. "Get your mind off you feet. Think of something – even lie and say I'm beautiful."

Dio looked down into her face: 

Her mouth was opened slightly, her lips were full and red, if he wasn't at a party, he'd have her home in bed. - First verse, You're a Lovely Little Honey Pot, by Dio Wellington on the dance floor.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"Please tell me what you were thinking."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 02



"It just a small piece of verse. It goes like this," he said, quoting the first verse of 'As Long as your Eyes are Blue'.

Her hand clenched his. "God, that sounds so romantic. Is that one of Rivers' poems?"

"No, Banjo Paterson's."

"Oh, I've heard of him. He wrote 'Waltzing Matilda' and I remember one of our teachers reading one of his poems, Clancy something."

"Was it 'Clancy of the Overflow'?"

"I guess so."

"Do you remember the film, 'The Man from Snowy River'?"

"Yes, it was excellent but the sequel was not as good. Did he write that story?"

Before he could answer the music ended and she said: "Oh, that's the end of the dance. You have done very well."

Dio had been aware that other people had come on to the floor, but he now found the floor was really crowded. He'd forgotten he'd been doing something called a foxtrot. Somehow it had gone all so fast.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," he admitted.

"When I get you dancing well, you'll love it."

There it was again, the assumption that there was going to be more good times. As they left the floor, arm around each other's waist, which is how they finished the dance, allowing their right hands to unclasp, he squeezed her slightly and felt her squeeze back.

"You filthy man, you filthy man," shouted a woman, marching away from Rivers swinging her handbag angrily.

Rivers were going hee-haw, hee-haw, while people nearby were looking at him curiously.

"Oh dear," said Carra.

"Leave it," advised Dio. "She's asked for it, and her problem is that she'd not delectable."

"What do you mean?"

"Ask Rivers."

"That man? No thank you. I've heard he's horrible."

Dio considered that for a moment. "Maybe, maybe not. The way he is going he's on the way of becoming a bit of a legend."

"You are not just a simple computer technician who spends a lot of time just looking at porn, are you Dio? In fact you seem to becoming increasingly complex."

"You'll find only what you see."

She twitched her beautifully proportioned nose. "Oh really, I doubt that very much."

The music started and a hand circled Dio's midriff and he could feel the fingers testing his abs.

"Our dance, Mr Wellington, our dance," purred famous author Marion Wells.

Carra drove Dio home slowly and happily. She said: "Marion was all over you – that was an invitation if I ever saw one."

"Yes, without question. But I gave her no encouragement so she eventually lost interest in me, much to my relief."

"Mine, too." 

In excellent voice she sang exuberantly the first two verses of 'I Feel Pretty'. Whenever she turned to glance at him, Dio was looking straight ahead, smiling.

Outside Dio's house he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She made no effort to break away. He did so, reluctantly. "Thank you for this evening, I enjoyed it."

"Me too," she said in a small voice.

"This is our first date, so I won't ask you in."

"Ooh, what exemplary behavior," she almost whispered, adding, "I'd like a good night kiss, perhaps two. If you wish to touch my breasts I won't mind."

She drove off and Dio watched the tail lights of the car until she made a right turn down the crossroads. He had touched her breasts, just cupping them over her top and it was true – she hadn't objected. He looked up at the stars, and began humming one of his mother's favorite songs that he'd picked up at an early age – 'I Feel Pretty'; it was one of his favorites and, stretching and yawning, thought that it was an encouraging sign that it was Carra's first song choice rather than something currently in vogue.

Inside the house he paced the floor, feeling very unsettled. Then it struck him, they'd not made a time for their next meeting. He still didn't know where she lived, so gave her twenty minutes then phoned her; the cell phone number was on the business card she'd given him.

"I was willing you to phone me. I've just got into bed."

"What are you wearing?"

She giggled. "Is this one of those obscene phone calls that people talk about?"

"I wouldn't know."

"My blue t-shirt?"

"Anything else?"

"No. Oh God; this is going to be an obscene phone call!"

"Shhh! Your folk will hear you. I just wanted to say good night again and to ask when can we meet again?"

"Why don't you come around for breakfast – it will be Saturday morning. The folk want to meet you, so why not tomorrow?"

"How do they know about me?"

"They are always awake when I come home. I'm still their little girl, and have just had ten minutes in bed with them because they wanted to know everything. Dad reckons you might be all right if you quote Banjo Paterson but I didn't tell them how old you are as he'll think you're cradle snatching. He's rather quaint like that."

"What about your mother?"

"She'd like to see you in your underpants."

"What!"

"Don't get excited – she would have a professional interest, looking at structure, muscle tone and all that. Just in case I get pregnant."

"What!"

"Shhh! You'll wake up your neighbors."

"How could you get pregnant?"

"Dunno, depends what you have in mind."

"I don't know what to say?"

"You could say you're coming over for breakfast."

"Yes, thank you. Where do you live?"

"Nine Ploughman Street."

"That's just three blocks from here!"

She giggled, "Yes, I know where I live."

"I'll be there around 8:30. Get some sleep; sweet dreams."

"I loved you calling me. I feel so happy. Good night."

The next morning Dio shaved and then showered, whistling 'Summer Holiday'. He was very happy. The phone went and Dio scramble to find his phone in the bed linen. He said good morning cheerfully. It was Carra; she was crying.

"They don't want you to come."

"Oh?" he said glumly.

"Mama came in a few minutes ago, and by the look of her face I knew she was not on a friendly visit. Earlier she'd asked me how old were you and I told her. She said something like 'Oh, that's rather old for you, isn't it?' I mumbled that I didn't think so and she walked off, obviously to share that bit of news with daddy. Now she says they think that because of the twelve-year age difference, I should not have anything more to do with you."

"They?"

"Yes, in a showdown they invariably stick together. I'm so unhappy," Carra said, beginning to cry, wrenching something inside Dio.

"Cheer up," he said, trying to sound light-hearted. "The world's half full of guys like me."

At that she began to wail.

"I still like you."

The noise against his ear lowered somewhat.

"I like you very much."

The noise softened to sobbing.

"Is this the end, or do we have to go underground?" she sniffed.

"The hell it is. I'll be over as arranged at 8:30."

"Oh Dio, please don't. Daddy has a bit of a reputation for dealing with difficult men."

"I don't care so long as your mum doesn't start swinging as well."

Something a little like a troubled laugh sounded against his ear.

Dio cleared his throat: "There are some things a man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do."

"Oh Dio, you're aiming to have a showdown over me, aren't you?"

"Don't be soft," he said. "Cheer up. See you in thirty minutes."

Dio had a vision of his mum returning, a bit bloody, though smiling triumphantly after dealing with his stroppy pottery tutor. She'd said before leaving the house, "Never let the bastards get you down," and when he repeated those words, instead of clipping him over the ear she'd grabbed him and hugged him. 

He and his father had been waiting outside the picket gate for her. It was the only time he could recall his mother threatening violence – apart from clipping him over the ear repeatedly, though never really hurtfully. At that stage his father still hit her occasionally, and she just submitted, more often than not lying in a tearful heap. He'd wondered why she'd never hit back. After she'd dealt with his pottery tutor Dio wondered would have been the outcome had his mum gone toe to toe with his father. He rather fancied his mum would have had a real chance if she had gone in to win.

Brushing his hair before heading off to Carra's place, Dio examined his face in the mirror and to his surprise could see what she'd always said, but he could never see – 'You've got my eyes and forehead boy, especially my eyes.' He hadn't noticed this before, but somewhere along the way the color of his eyes had become hazel, just like hers. "Bejesus," he said, quite in awe.

Dio parked discreetly around the corner. He didn't want an enraged axe-swinging Mr Fleming beating up the ute. He admired the expensive looking house, knocked on the door and waited, not knowing whether the parents had been told he was coming for breakfast regardless. A tall – surprisingly tall really - dark-skinned woman with slightly hooded dark luminous eyes and a nose unfashionably sharp, answered the door. He wondered if she were of Italian descent. She stood aside and said formally with a slight accent, "Good morning Mr Wellington, please come in. I am Carra's mother Mrs Fleming. We have asked Carra to stay in her room until we have had a chat."

Dio acknowledged her greeting with a nod, not finding it necessary to say anything.

She led him to the dinning room. The table was not set for breakfast and at the far end sat 'headmaster' – well, it reminded Dio of school days when he was sent to headmaster's office; headmaster remained seated.

"Darling, this is Mr Wellington," said Carra's mum, unnecessarily, and in a slightly husky almost sexy voice.

Where they expecting another boyfriend? Dio thought aggressively.

Carra's dad inclined his head towards the chair nearest Dio, but the visitor chose to look at the wedding photograph of Mr and Mrs Fleming. He could see that the bride truly had been a stunner, despite the sharp facial features. Little wonder porky behind the table had married her – he must have been beside himself in lust.

"Well, if you won't sit I'll stand," Carra's dad said, doing just that.

Mrs Fleming looking decidedly nervous kept looking across to the closed door as if Carra was about to crash through it riding a brumby and cracking a stock whip as she charged at her father reciting 'The Man from Snowy River'.

Dio took a good look at Mr Fleming: Same height, headmaster was at least forty pounds heavier and his square jaw looked solid as a rock. Best to send a right hook into that belly being suffocated by the tight belt.

"Look here Wellington..."

God, thought Dio. Daddy really was sounding like headmaster.

"Neither Carmen..."

Dio's heart lifted. He knew it, he knew it – a dancing instructor looking like she did just had to be a Carmen.

"...or I am are the slightest bit chuffed about my daughter becoming involved with you."

"Our daughter please, Caleb."

"Sorry, dear," he said and looked at Carmen. A tiny smile appeared at the corners of his mouth, his shoulders slumped ever so lightly and he unclenched a hand to scratch behind his ear. He looked as if he'd just been counter-attacked in a boardroom fight and was taken aback. But the shoulders lifted again and Caleb pressed on.

"I don't want you dating our daughter." He fell silent.

The parents looked at Dio expectantly who imagined he could hear heavy breathing behind the closed door more than thirty feet away. Dio didn't hurry to take his cue. But as Caleb opened his mouth to say something, Dio wound them up: "Nice to meet you, Carmen." He said the name with as much feeling as he could, allowing the 'ah' sound to roll across the roof of his mouth. 

Her head lifted slightly, she looked pleased.

"And you too, Caleb."

'Headmaster' looked decidedly displeased, saying gruffly, it's Cal to everyone. Then flicking his head towards his wife said, "Caleb is just for her."

"Right Cal. As I see it you have three options. One - you back right off now and we have breakfast. Two - we shout and scream at each other and I stalk off and sure as hell you'll be left wondering will I lure your daughter from this home. At least if I am made to feel welcome you can keep your eye on me. We're not in the processing of planning to made babies or get married, if that's what you're thinking."

"I beg you pardon," snapped Carmen, her eyes piercing him.

"You heard me."

She looked at Cal, and nodded. 

"And the other option?" Cal asked.

"We fight, but I warn you I inherited a king punch from my mother."

At that Carmen began to giggle. The men looked at her, surprised.

"Oh come on you two boys, this has to stop," she said. Caleb, help me get breakfast and we shall continue this while we're eating as a foursome. Carra has the right to be involved."

Cal seemed almost relieved by this sudden switch. "I've a whole lot of questions to ask you boy – sorry, I mean Dion," Cal said, not yet ready to show any emotion. Now what's this about 'The Man from Snowy River'? Carra came home and tried to recite as bit to me but she only got through two lines and then made a hash of the rest. Headmaster at boarding school made it compulsory for us – we had to learn it within two weeks or else forfeit our tuck boxes; that was a pretty good incentive to learn it." 

"Do you still know it?" Dio asked.

Carra, who'd been lying on her bed all along, hoping not to hear the sound of breaking furniture, instead heard two male voices attempting to outdo each other, reciting that stupid poem. She began to weep. The bedroom door opened and Carmen entered, lay down and hugged her and also began to weep, releasing tension.

"He knows how to say Carmen and that silly father of yours called him Dion. I have a good feeling about you and this man of yours."

At that, Carra's tears ceased. Dabbing her eyes she lay there for a moment, feeling the warmth of relief percolating her body. She rolled off the bed and reached out for her mother's hand: "Come on, let's hit breakfast." 

"You're not going out in the flimsy thing."

"Oh mama, Dio will be dying to see what I look like."

"Not in my home will he be granted that honor."

"Oh mama, you Argentines are so...so strict."

"I have English as well as Spanish blood in me and the English can also be very strict."

"Yes mother, I shall put on a shirt and shorts."

"And underwear."

"If you insist and jewelry also; I'm sure you want me to do the whole facial thing and cream my arms and neck?"

"Just some lipstick will do, cheeky one. Then, as you say, let's hit breakfast. You make it sound so exciting."

"It will; it's my first breakfast with him, mama."

"I should hope so," Carman snorted, then smiled softly. "Ah, to be so young again. I am sorry that you are not with the Church. We could have gone to give thanks in the morning."

"You go with my blessing, mama. With any luck I'll be in bed."

"Carra!"

Carra and Dio sat the table holding hands and whispering. Carra still looked a little less than relaxed. Carmen and Cal carried in plates of bacon, eggs and tomatoes and a side plate of chips and another of buttered white bread.

"I trust this is suitable, Dio," Carmen smiled. "This is the traditional Saturday morning breakfast in this household."

"In my mom's house also," grinned Dio, noticing the piled plate of chips.

"But...but Carra had told me that your mother..."

"Had died? Yes, that is true. Oh, sorry – I still call my house mom's house; I just can't seem to break the habit."

Carmen put some egg into her mouth, and dabbed her lips delicately with her serviette, her eyes not leaving Dio's face. He knew that the answer to the question she was about to ask was important to her. "You were close to your mother?"

"Oh yes, we were not only mother and son but also best of friends. We spent so much time together."

"Ah, a man who respects women. I like that."

"No more than I would respect men." Dio heard Carra suck in her breath.

Carmen looked taken aback, but the calmness with which Dio was munching a piece of bread, looking at her to respond seemed to satisfy her: "Of course."

"Of course what?" asked Cal, already wiping his emptied plate with a piece of bread.

Her narrowed gaze was now on Cal as if daring him to jam the whole piece of bread into his mouth. Cal caught the look, dropped the bread on to his plate and began cutting it with his knife and fork.

Good boy Cal, thought Dio, swinging his attention back to Carmen.

"It is acceptable not to place women on pedestals providing their sensitivities are nurtured," she said

"Do you know what she'd on about boy?" asked Cal. "I'm happy to put deserving women on a pedestal."

"His name is Dio, daddy."

"Yeah, right."

Dio decided to was time to force a decision. "I'm sensitive about the age difference between myself and Carra and wonder whether you are prepared to allow your adult daughter to decide whether it is acceptable or not?"

Cal bristled.

"That's a very provocative, Dion!"

Carmen slapped her hand on the table and Cal looked startled. "Call him Dion one more time and you shall sleep in the guest room until you learn to say his name properly, Caleb Ainsley Fleming.

Ainsley? Dio began to chuckle, earning a murderous glance from Cal, but Carman slapped her hand on the table again and Cal's attention riveted on her.

"Do you understand?"

Cal nodded and his lips were moving as in prayer, Dio, Dio, Dio, Dio.

Carmen looked at Dio with smoldering eyes. As she did so she could see her daughter's hand gently patting Dio's forearm. It was time to surrender.

"Dio, what you say is absolutely correct. Carra is not a child and so we should pull back; Cal, are you with me on this one?"

Cal wiped his forehead with his napkin and then wiped his hands. He offered his hand to Dio, saying, "Shake, I'm sorry for the hostilities. Any friend of Carra's is welcome in our house, Dio. There, I got the name right."

Carra squealed, kissed Dio and flew around the table to kiss her father and then to hug her mother.

An hour later Dio walked from the house after being warmly kissed at the front door by Carra; he touched her breasts and she didn't flinch except to whisper, "You live dangerously; my mother is only in the next room."

"Call her out and I'll really show her how to hot up a woman."

"Don't tease me; where's the ute?"

"Parked around the corner."

"What, in case daddy went berserk and tried to trash it?"

"Yes, either him or Carmen."

She began giggling almost uncontrollably.

Dio had promised to take Carra to dinner that evening but where would depend on where he could get a table as it was peak time – Saturday evening. He had an idea. Pulling out the 'Yellow Pages' he took his coffee on to the table on the back patio of his mum's home and said, "I'm taking out a very sweet girl tonight, mum. You will love her."

He called the Ferryboat Company. Yes, tonight was their opening night for the season, and yes there was plenty of room as many diners though it was still too chilly to venture on to the river.

"A table for a romantic dinner for two, please." 

"Oh, how sweet," exclaimed the motherly-sounding hostess. "You shall have our very best table."

Late morning he posted his worksheets and other details of earnings and expenditure to his accountant, Ronnie Marks, who'd registered him for payment of GST – goods and services tax. It was Ronnie's advice – Ronnie was at school with him – that he should not bother to register as a company as the advantages would be negligible for an 'itinerant tradesman' with very low operating costs and sole recipient of all profits. Ronnie had said it would be different if he employed staff and if he would be disposing of worthwhile assets. Ronnie suspected not all of Dio's income was being declared. He warned Dio to keep good records and paper trails in case he ever received a visit from Government tax inspectors. Dio saw the wink, so translated that as meaning keep no records whatsoever on anything not declared in case he was inspected by tax officials.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 02



At the mail centre he bumped into Louise, literally. She grabbed his arm to avoid a side-on collision, saw who it was and squeezed him arm. "Ooh, it's hard. When am I going to get this arm wrapped around my body?"

"Um," said Dio.

"I see, she's nice and likes you and wants to see more of you?"

"Um."

"I'll take that as a yes. My word, the cat has got your tongue this morning. She must be really sweet."

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, it speaks!" squeaked Louise, feigning excitement. She looked at him sympathetically. "Look Dio, it was never going to last for forever and who knows, we may well have the odd fling together in times ahead? You must be sweet to your little darling – I guess she is little. I'd like to meet her when you're ready. I shall always be your friend."

"Thanks Louise, you're incredible. Although she hasn't quite hooked me yet I've been thinking about how I would tell you."

"And Sarisha and Celina and the hundreds I don't know about?"

"Just Sarisha and you these days, but as you know just as lovely and caring backstops. Not Celina because of my friendship with Mike but how did you know about Sarisha?"

"Girls talk, you know Dio. We talk about real things, not about football or cubic capacity of car engines, or which golf ball is the best or which girl on the street in front of you has the best looking knockers. We have intelligent, informative conversations."

"Yeah, I bet," said Dio, hitching his jeans and flicking a look at the pair of breasts right in front of him.

"I've gotta go," said Louise, kissing him like a sister on the cheek. "See you. Oh, don't worry about our other two close mates. If I see them I'll drop a gentle hint."

"Oh Louise, you are somebody to die for."

"I bet," Louise mutter, watching his ass as Dio walked away. "Until your blinkers fix on Little Miss Pretty in Pink again, then the others like me will be history. But I realize you'd be one to really stick by me if I were in trouble."

Louise snapped opened her phone and pressed a quick call number.

"Celina, it's Louise. Got a moment?"

"For you Louise, yes."

"Good. Have I got some news for you! It's Dio – he's practically engaged but is not actually admitting it yet."

Dio emerged from the hardware shop carrying a big can of white paint to redo the picket fence and gate across the front of his mother's property. He crossed the road and headed for Coffee Exotic. 

Although the early lunch crowd was gathering, Celina dropped her cake slice and came running at him from behind the counter, arms outstretched. Close behind was Mike with a silly grin, having managed to emerge from behind the till for a moment.

"My beloved, my beloved," cried Celina, tears flying everywhere as she enveloped him into a motherly hug. "I am so proud of you."

Mike was far more in control. He thrust out his hand and said, "Congratulations buddy, hope that she will last the distance. Brilliantly done; how would you rate her knockers?"

Bewildered by all this, Dio asked weakly, "What's all this about?"

"Your engagement, you silly ass," admonished Celina, landing two more kisses before releasing Dio.

"But I'm not getting engaged?"

Celina looked as if she were about to be hit by a bus, and then she began crying.

"Come on love, get back behind the counter," urged Mike. "The queue has stacked up – our duty is to our customers."

"You stay here," ordered Celina, pointing Dio to a chair. "I'll bring you coffee and food as soon as I can. We've got to talk."

When Sarisha received Louise's call in her empty taxi she almost hit the side of the town bridge at the mention of the word 'engaged' in relation to Dio. "Christ!" 

My word, thought Louise. She really is upset. I've never heard her use that word before.

"Look, Sash, come straight to the restaurant. I'll shout you sausages and chips and sit with you. We need to talk. We can't have a crisis this big and not talk about it."

"I'm on my way," said Sarisha. 

"Sorry – I'm disgusted with myself for using that word."

"What word?" Louise asked innocently.

"Bye, you're a good mate, Louise."

Almost half an hour has passed before Celina arrived with Dio's coffee, his favorite beefsteak and mushroom pie, two sausage rolls and three pieces of Louise cake. Dio had almost gone to sleep, having counted 133 vehicles passing the coffee shop window.

It took him longer than usual to scoff the lot because he was being expertly grilled and had to reply to each question. In fifteen minutes Celina had extracted from his memory ever conceivable piece of information stored there about the Flemings including tidbits he didn't realize he knew, including the answer to the question, "What side of Cal was Carmen standing in the wedding photo?"

Once that was accomplished, Celina pumped into his mind a whole heap of stuff about how she felt about this, how she treasured him and how proud his mother would have been of him. How was it possible to go on so long about something that hadn't happened? If she was downloading stuff like this all the time it was amazing she had time to work and look after Mike, including cleaning his shoes. He saw that Mike was working his butt off trying to service late-lunchers so he pushed some money into her hand and rose to leave.

"Here, I'm not taking this money," Celina a said, loud enough for Mike to hear. He was pointing to the door urging Dio to leave before she handed back the fifteen dollars. 

"This is my pre-engagement gift," she said, on the verge of tears again.

Dio kissed her and left without taking back the money. He turned at the door and she was still standing like a statue, staring at him.

"Back to work, Celli," Dio called. She stamped her foot, but turned and went back to her station.

Dio went home and washed the ute. Looking up he saw Leticia Wrightson next door leaning over her veranda rail looking at him very intently – not that there was much to look at as Dio was working in just a pair of battered shorts.

"Finished?" called Mrs Wrightson.

"Yeah but don't ask me to do you and Alan's vehicles."

"Nothing is farther from my mind," she said huskily. "Come over for a cook drink."

Dio put away the cleaning gear and rolled up the hose. He went into the neighboring house and found Leticia in the kitchen, leaning against the sink bench. She held out a soda, her arm not extended very far; as he reached for the drink she pulled it almost against herself. An inner voice told Dio to go no farther but he'd often looked at Leticia and felt his interest quicken. When having meals with them her foot sometimes made contact with his and stayed touching but she wouldn't look at him. This behavior had left him confused until he finally decided she was just sometimes caught in a slightly flirty mood. 

This time he sensed the thirty-nine year old had decided to reward herself with something; but what? Now she was looking confused. He unbuttoned the front of her dress, pulled down her bra and taking the soda poured some on to her left breast and bent over her and began licking.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered.

He took the swelling nipple into his mouth and worked his tongue around it.

"I became so hot watching you cleaning your truck; I saw muscles rippling." She stopped talking so Dio nipped the nipple.

"Oh God, I want you."

Dio ran a hand down her thigh and found she was indeed very warm.

"Oh no, I can't do this to Alan."

"That's fine, I never push my luck," Dio said, taking half a step back and kissing her over each eye. She reached down and began squeezing his erection."

"I'll see you later Leticia. He turned and walked away.

"Dio!"

He turned. Leticia had pulled her dress top and bra down and lifted the back of her dress up over her hips and was stepping out of her panties.

"I'm coming," he chocked.

"Here, put this on," she said, handing him a condom that had appeared from nowhere. Hopefully Alan didn't keep a count of his supply.

Stepping back from the bench she turned and leaned over the sink and began massaging her tits that were hanging down into the basin. As Dio came right up to her she spread her legs to give him a great view of a nicely lubed pinkie.

Dio went to work, humming Paul Simon's 'Mrs Robinson'. Leticia joined in and kept going until she broke into moans and began clawing at and slapping the hands cupping her breasts. She began moaning loud enough, thought Dio, to wake up babies and dogs all along the street. Then his chest tightened as did his nuts and he pulled back his head and fought to muffle his bellow as Leticia squeezed her thighs together and they both began ejaculating.

Back home and in the shower Dio thought he'd have to rate Mrs Wrightson very highly and she'd have to be given an extra mark as she had seduced him. Boy was she a great person to have living next door! He wondered how many dates would it take before Carra came across; it wasn't it his mind that they'd become anything more that friends of convenience; in all probability she'd allow him to seduce occasionally 'for being a good boy'.



TO BE CONTINUED 



Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 03



The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero with the odd name of Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters, It becomes clear that Dio is enjoying a life richer in many ways than most people around him. He is between girlfriends when he meets a damsel in distress on the roadside, with a puncture to her mom's car. Dio helps out and the twenty year old Carra invites him to accompany her to a function. The next day he meets her parents who disapprove of Dio because of the age gap of twelve years. He begins thinking quite a bit about Carra although not while being led astray by a married woman who is his neighbor.

*

Living only three streets away from Carra Fleming, 'Mr Computer Cleaner' Dio Wellington ate breakfast thinking of his date for the evening who'd still be asleep, probably dreaming of a wedding one day on the beach. Of course her mother would insist on a church wedding, her parent's church in Santa Fe, Argentina, no doubt. Then Cal's parents might want it in a cathedral in Melbourne. Such conflicts made his dream run rather erratically, but that's the way of dreams.

That evening Carra told Dio what had happened after he'd left the breakfast reconciliation, giving her his first passionate kiss. She'd returned to the dining room after he drove off and said she faced her parents. "Well?" she'd asked, a little pugnaciously.

"We like him," soothed her mother. "He makes me laugh."

"He's okay, I have to say that," said her father sternly. "But what about this guy's prospects?"

"I haven't a clue, daddy. Anyway, you are so rich there's bound to be something available for us and if we should ever decided to marry we could always live in his little cottage and beg on the streets should his prospects not be good enough."

"No daughter of mine is going to live in a dump and beg," Cal said ominously.

"Well, daddy," Carra retorted coolly, "You'd better keep your check book handy."

Cal couldn't reply to that because Carmen was beginning to frown. He didn't want to have to deal with both of them, firing off each other, "Any way, what's this crap about marriage; you've only met the guy three times? You're on a romantic high, baby."

"Caleb, I won't have bad language in my house. How many times do I have to warn you?"

"But darling," protested her husband. "I didn't swear."

Lying was another no-no, and Carmen moved into stage two, her dark eyes smoldering.

Carra came to the rescue. She mouthed C-R-A-P to her father. He smiled gratefully at his little sweetie.

"Oh, Carmen – how careless of me; I did release a word into this room that belongs in the gutter. I apologize, sweetheart."

Carmen ignored him but by shaping the back of her hair with her hands she indicated Cal was forgiven. Father and daughter had long learned to read Carmen. "Your father is right. You have known this man through just three meetings. That's but a drop of a pebble into the ocean of life."

"What are you talking about mama? This is all conjecture although if things were to work out then perhaps one day we may decide to get married; end of story."

"But can't we discuss this like normal, intelligent adults? Carmen wheedled, aware that she was unable to control her daughter like she could her husband 

Carra used a tactic learned long ago from her mother. She ignored her.

"Let's move on daddy. I'm amazed about this concept of marriage. We have only just met. Good heavens, he may not like me enough or find a much better prospect. But I must say this: should Dio and I stick and eventually decide to wed you need to know something. The wedding venue shall be where he wants it, where I want it. Not where you and your parents in Santa Fe want it mummy or where you or your parents in Melbourne want it daddy. 

"Perhaps we should elope," she almost muttered, and slumped back in her seat, waiting for reaction.

"Elope?" commented her father as if he'd hear the hint of a profanity.

"Elope!" shouted her mother.

"Elope!" shouted her father, his voice rising.

"Elope," whispered her mother, bowing her head and bursting into tears.

Carra felt it was time to restore family stability. "Oh, come on you two; enough of the theatrics. Mama, do you have confidence in my judgment, wish me happiness and will not stand in my way – given that I always shall treasure your advice?"

Carmen knew there was only one answer. Carra was 20 years old, and she had no wish for her to leave home without a compelling reason, and she did not wish to be that reason.

"You have my blessing."

"Daddy darling?"

"Do as you wish."

"Oh I am so delighted to have mature and understanding parents; that clears the air. Now, what shall we do tomorrow as an extended grouping – you've got to make Dio feel the welcome mat is out?"

"A barbecue?"

"I'll do a roast dinner."

"Go to our favorite Italian restaurant."

"Go over to the coast."

"Take him up to the lake."

"Join him at his place for dinner."

The ideas seemed to run out.

"Well, that's us done, darling," Carmen said. "You choose."

"Will it be fine tomorrow?" Carra asked, sweeping hair back from over her eyes.

"Yes," said Cal. "The forecast is good."

"Then I want one of our fabulous picnics up in our favorite place in the forest – with all the trimmings."

"But we didn't give you that option," Cal protested.

"Doesn't daddy love me any more?" simpered Carra, fluttering her eyelashes.

"The forest," he said. 

"Carmen?"

"Yes, that will be perfect; we shall have him all to ourselves."

Dio telephoned Carra to say that he was running late as a friend had called. He'd be about ten minutes late and would she mind coming out when he sounded the horn. He asked this anxiously, wondering if Carra would act like the person he thought she was, or would he discover a hidden side inherited from her mother.

"No problem."

No problem? No foot stamping or being given a lecture on chivalry. What a girl!

"Come to me a quickly as you can; bye."

Dio put down his phone and punched the air. "She's not just going out with me – she's eager to be going out with me," he crowed.

Later Carmen would relay to Dio how she further conditioned her parents to accept Dio and his ways.

After taking Dio's call she told her mother: "He's running late, so will toot and I shall run out. Please come to the front door when I leave and wave to him."

Dio tooted and hastened around to open the passenger door for Carra. They kissed, doing that so quickly it was impossible to discern who made the first move.

Carmen and Cal waved, and waved again.

"Your parents appear to have been on the bottle; they are flapping their arms so fast they look about ready to take to the air."

Carra laughed at told him not to be silly, that her parents were just being friendly.

Dio was hoping Carra had not been dining at sea before – well, at least on the river.

She was pleasantly surprised when they parked at the riverside and began walking over to the paddle boat.

"Have they started the season already?" she asked in surprise. 

"Yes, tonight is the maiden voyage – only men and maidens are allowed on board."

"Oh," she pouted. "I was hoping we would be able to dine together."

He looked at her closely, but could read nothing, except merriment in her eyes.

The admiral greeted them at the top of the gangway and a purser took them towards their table where an attractive hostess in a black dress and black jacket intercepted them and inquired, "Mr Wellington?"

Dio said "Aye, Aye" and was startled when the hostess said warmly, "Good evening Miss Fleming."

After she had left them at their table under its own palm tree, Dio said, "How do you know her, does she work at the Council during the day?"

"No, daddy brings mama and me here quite a bit; he likes the atmosphere because the music is all old tunes that he knows. But don't worry, you tried to surprise me and you certainly did as I didn't know the season had started."

They had a long leisurely meal interspersed with dancing, with Dio trying nothing fancy and managing quite well. 

It was almost midnight when they arrived on the driveway to the Fleming's house.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," he said, kissing her, and then added, "I feel I know you much better."

Carra grabbed him, pulling his head down and kissing him passionately. 

"Steady on, your parents may be watching."

"Let's go somewhere private then."

"There's plenty of time to do that, just one step at the time, huh?"

"Of course, she said weakly."

Next morning at 11:00 the foursome headed for the picnic spot in the V8 Range Rover Vogue. Along the way Cal asked Dio plenty of questions, ending up with an understanding of Dio's work. Dio had wisely generalized it as "Making house calls, something like a doctor."

"Dr Computer?"

"Yes, that's it."

Dio learned that Cal owned and operated the region's largest crane hire and excavating company.

They arrived at the edge of a forest-covered mountain range.

"We have to lug everything up there," Cal said, leaning forward and pointing to a grassed clearing.

"Why don't we drive up?" Dio asked.

"Because we may get into a skid or scratch the paint," Carmen replied with a touch of finality in her voice.

Dio looked at Cal who shrugged.

"This vehicle will go up there as if it were just going up the incline of your concrete driveway to the garage," Dio argued.

"What!"

"She'll do it with ease, Carmen."

"How would you know?"

"Because I drove these things – though not as swanky as this one – when I was in territorials in the Army; we learned how to go nearly everywhere."

Dio turned to look at her and found Carmen listening attentively. "Ahead of us it's steep; I'll grant you that. But it's a relatively even incline – dry, no rutting, and no gouging – as smooth as a baby's bottom.

"All right, general," Cal snorted. "Take her up."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, providing you are."

"I'm getting out," Carmen said nervously.

"Me too," Carra volunteered.

"Well, let's swap seats, Cal, and if you ladies don't trust me, then do walk."

"I would like to trust you, Dio," Carmen said.

She was almost capitulating. 

Dio and Cal switched seats.

"Carmen why do you and Cal have this vehicle; to bump smaller vehicles out of the way at the supermarket?"

"No, the idea was to do some cross-country adventuring; we've done some, although always across relatively flat land."

"Well, stay put and picture this," Dio said, moving the vehicle off. "Imagine that piece of land in front of us we are traversing as being flat but then just picture it being ramped it up a bit."

"By sixty degrees," Cal said, exaggerating.

"By thirty to no more than forty degrees," Dio corrected.

He adjusted the seat and mirrors to suit, looked at the dials and switches of the latest in new technology and shrugged. So what if most of it was newfangled accessories? Do the right thing and bits that are meant to switch in will do so – surely? No, definitely. He was confident about that.

"Hi, ho, hi ho, it's up the hill we go," he sang, while his passengers looked on slightly nervously although they were still on reasonably flat terrain.

"We're going very slowly," Carmen observed.

"I have her in low range ready for the climb ahead. No sweat. The slower we go the safer we are, but this really is a picnic."

"I hope we do enjoy the picnic," Carra said quietly. "I'm now wishing I'd picked the beach option."

"What and get chewed by a bronze whaler?"

"That's not funny, Dio. You know mama and I are very nervous sitting back here."

"Right, like to sit on my knee?"

"You attend to your driving thank you."

Just before the front wheels begin the start of the steeper climb Dio slipped into third gear. He'd stay in that gear till they reached their destination.

Dio announced in a plumy voice, "This is the captain speaking. We have now settled in to our rate of climb and will maintain this speed for the next two minutes. Please remain with your seatbelts buckled up and no smoking. Thank you."

"This is a piece of cake, Dio," Cal said, stretching his arms and back. 

Dio asked what he expected after paying a truckload of money for such a vehicle.

"Mama says he bought it to watch the petrol drag money out of his pockets. It guzzles gas."

"Hush dear, we don't need to inform company of in-family feuding."

"But you love this vehicle, mama."

"I know I do. Oh, look what you've made me do. Your father now knows what I think."

The vehicle was climbing slowly, with perfect stability and Captain Wellington was in danger of falling asleep.

He was jolted out of torpor by Cal asking, "What are your prospects, Dio?"

"Caleb!"

"Daddy!" 

"ETA in thirty seconds, everyone," shouted Dio, doing his best to add to the verbal melee to bury the question.

"Oh God," shouted Carra, misinterpreting the shout.

"Hush, dear," said her mother, grasping her hand. If your father says it's a piece of cake there is nothing to worry about."

The vehicle drove on to the natural clearing in the forest and nobody felt it necessary to sigh in relief. A second later Cal was out of the vehicle, the only thing on his mind was which hamper contained the wine.

"Chase me," shouted Carra, flashing past in her blue sundress – her mother looking at her suspiciously wondering if she was wearing any underwear. She couldn't actually see a panty line and the small amount of wobbling indicated no bra.

Dio held the door open for Carmen who stepped out gracefully. He then raced off.

Cal, already pouring himself a glass of wine, standing at the back of the vehicle as if he were at the Hunt Club or watching the dressage; he called Carmen to look at the running style and speed of Dio.

Carmen looked, with admiration. Carra had said he'd been a champion runner, and it was easy to see why. To think that her daughter was going to get her hands on that body!

Dio tackled Carra to the ground and she gave the obligatory scream. She was now exploring the back of his mouth with her tongue.

"Was that nice?"

"Yes, a very nice scream," he said innocently.

Oh my Gawd, she thought. Am I about to add another tease to the family.

"That's a lovely sight," remarked Carmen, arriving with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and two flutes of champagne. Dio was lying across the slope and Carra was laying at right angles her head on his chest. He'd circled some of her hair around his hand and was stroking her cheek.

Dio looked up and smiled.

"Stay there and enjoy this," said Carmen sweetly. Come back when you're ready. We won't be lonely and who knows, I might get lucky and have my hair wrapped in loving hands."

"Good luck, mama. We'll cough loudly before we approach."

When it came time to leave, the demur of the women had changed considerably.

"I'm going to vun – I mean run – down the hill," hiccupped Carra.

"Well go now," Dio urged. "For safety reasons I can't begin the descent until the route of clear."

"What, all that fuss for this tiny little hill. In Argentina as a girl I would have galloped down this hill," snickered Carmen, with her hair in a mess looking as if someone had unrolled only one side of it.

"Iwanna stay to be near you, Di-di."

"Okay Carra, climb aboard. Crew, this is the captain speaking. Is all cargo loaded?"

"All cargo loaded and secured, captain," said flight engineer Fleming. "Chocks away."

Carra was already asleep and Carmen looked to be not far from joining her.

Dio did a three-quarter turn and then backed up before completing the turn.

"She's got a reasonable lock and would have gone round in one turn. Why did you choose not to do that?"

"Good question, Cal. The answer is conservative driving. Good practice is to begin the descent in a straight line off this flat area. We would have been turning into it on an angle had I proceeded on that one lock. It's wouldn't have presented a problem as the ground is dry and smooth – but I chose to do it correctly. Training, I guess.

"Good for you, boy; top marks. Now what's the procedure?"

"Again the conservative approach because I have you and two precious women in the back."

"You're not going soft on my wife, are you?"

"Not necessarily, but she ought to be precious to you."

"Oh, I see what you mean. So, we just crawl down in low range first gear with absolutely no braking – I remember learning that when I was on my test drive, then pre-delivery drive and then reading the handbook."

"That's right, sir. No braking, and our rate of descent should be a galloping four miles an hour."

Once home, after being lovingly kissed by the two women – one, understandably, taking a lot longer about it than the other – Dio spent the next two hours replying to recorded phone messages. He estimated it was take almost three weeks to complete those house calls, so there was no need to have his ad re-run in the newspaper for quite some time. If the volume of calls continued, he'd need to engage an assistant – or two!

Lily Mace, 43 Maize Road

Dio called at Lily Mace's request at the time she stated 9:00, but no-one was home He scrawled a note on the back of his business card advising that he'd called and added his unlisted cell phone number. He'd purposely left that number off his card in the belief that a busy man doing work for clients ought not to be interrupted by taking phone calls.

Mrs Dutch, 2 Hedge Lane

An old lady came to the door dressed in a long, tattered dressing gown over what appeared to be a pair of men's pink long john's. Her silver hair hung down to her shoulders and over her face.

"Yes," she said, holding hair from over one eye to take a look at Dio. "I can't remember calling you." 

He explained he helped people with problems with their computers.

"But I don't have a computer," and to his next question she confirmed that no one else was living in the house.

He said goodbye politely and was departing when she called out, "But aren't you going to fix this computer I haven't got? I'll make you tea if I can find another cup."

"Monday morning, oh bloody Monday morning," grumped Dio and he walked between the borders of spring flowers along the pebbled path.

"And don't forget to close the gate you moron," she shouted from the front porch.

Miss Alice McGrath, 12 Hedge Lane

A pale-faced woman with hair in a bun and the stature of a Flemish painter's model of the 17th century stood waiting on the terrace. Dio imagined her holding a fan and the painter peering at her waiting for the light to illuminate her right cheek just a tad.

"Good morning Mr Computer Cleaner," she called musically. "We're having a good morning are we?"

"No we're not!" Dio grumped.

"Oh, you poor boy; come this way– I've just poured you fresh tea and the scones are just out of the oven.

The scones were the size of bread and butter plates and lined in a row in front of his plate was a big dish of butter, another filled with strawberry jam and another heaped with double cream.

"What a lovely smile," commented his hostess. Her visitor had momentarily thought he'd arrived in heaven.

"My mum used to sometimes present me with a morning tea like this – in fact, exactly like this. It's wonderful."

"Oh, how lovely. She must come here and sample one of my morning teas."

"She can't, she died three months ago."

"Oh, you poor boy; that's a pity. Perhaps she'll make me morning tea sometime soon."

Something told Dio not to enquire about that comment.

"Now, I don't have much for you to do but beside your plate in that envelope are one hundred and twenty dollars. So please entertain me for the next two hours. I've become lonely here and many of my regular callers have eased off, tired of waiting, but I'll be going soon."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 03



"You wish is granted, Miss McGrath. I shall try to be entertaining but I'll only accept money that is due for the work I do. I don't charge lovely ladies who supply me with food like this!"

He looked around the room.

"My, what wonderful furniture – real antiques I would think. My mum had a bit of stuff like this, but definitely hers were reproductions."

"Yes, they belonged to my parents. The whole house is full of their things, and my things. I've even got my childhood things and less valuable items stored over in the former stables. But let's not listen to me, I wish to hear about you."

Dio told her about his first two calls, giving a bad start to his day.

"You're correct, Amelia Dutch doesn't have a computer, but neither does she have all of her marbles. You arrived to do something to her computer she doesn't possess and that's not a first. For example, the fire brigade occasionally arrives to douse a fire that doesn't exist and the undertaker arrives to carry off the body that's standing there to berate him. She is a compulsive maker of false telephone calls to emergency services. Her explanation for doing that is she likes receiving the occasional visitor."

Dio looked sideways at his hostess. 

"Is this a similar call?"

Alice roared with laughter, her eyes dancing.

"Oh, you are entertaining. No, that's real money in that envelope and I do have a computer and something that needs to be done with it. But tell me, do you have lots of women friends? I'd like to hear about them."

Dio settled in, beginning with one of his mother's friends who he occasionally visited. Alice heard him out and then said, "No not acquaintances, I mean tell me about your lovers."

He began from the beginning and she listened quietly until he finished.

"My, that Louise sounds a real character, with Celina not far behind her. You have described them well and I picture that cab driver girl as a real little charmer and her younger sister was a saucy little piece; fancy going on to become a doctor. As for your neighbor, I think I should not comment.

"But there's someone else, isn't there? Why are you not telling me about her? Is she dead?

"Good heaven no," Dio hastened. "She's very much alive." 

He saw the faint smile of triumph on Alice's heavily made-up face, and realized she'd drawn an admission that there was one more woman.

"Don't feel you have to tell me about her; she's your princess isn't she?"

Dio swallowed. "Sort of."

"My, you're not overly romantic."

That unleashed something inside Dio and he spilled his heart. He painted an extraordinarily clear picture of Carra, so full of detail that he surprised himself that he'd noticed everything that was blabbering on about. He made the two confessions – he'd thought she was too good for him, and he'd refrained from 'going to her' as he described it, when she obviously was keen for him to do so.

"Well, you've found almost the perfect woman for yourself, despite all of your naughty ways, haven't you," she said, causing Dio to drop his head. 

Alice smiled and said something to lift that head again. In her opinion Carra would appreciate having an experienced man, in retaliation for having been kept under the thumb of her parents. "Even so, don't expect her to be a virgin, not at twenty," warned Alice. "You're doing the right thing about not rushing into sex with her. Wait until you feel the time is right for both of you. But I would suggest that you don't frustrate her, otherwise the first time will not be so enjoyable."

"Gosh," Dio blurted. "Thank you, you sound very experienced."

Alice smiled.

"Wait until you see my pictures. But anyway, this thing about her being too good for you; what sort of arrant nonsense is that?

He stalled for time, replying that he was not sure what she meant by arrant. 

"Complete nonsense."

"Well..."

"Don't you understand about the harmony and balance of life? That, well almost, for every birth there is a death, for almost every man there is a woman if the majority of calves born are male the disappointed farmer is aware that within the next season or two the balance will be addressed? But the one I wish to discuss is good versus evil. By roaring around having your way with you coterie of women..."

"It really is not that frequent, I'm usually invited by them and ... Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." 

"As I was saying, by plundering women – mere girls some of them were – you have not developed a sense of your own worth as a man and you have tended to categorize women into two groups, I would imagine. One lot would be those who will or would given the chance do it with you versus those who are either too old, too young or who you think would not want to be involved with you in that activity. Let me tell you, there is real balance in sex, Mr Computer Cleaner. Men talk about 'getting one away' and we both know what that means. Well, although women enjoy such encounters, really enjoy it do some of them, deep down the urge is to link with someone who they regard as a potential mate. Not every woman will feel that urge keenly, of course, as the slut factor is involved. But I hope I am making myself clear. The best advice my father ever gave me – and he had the reputation of being 'the town ram' – was, 'My girl, never have sex with anyone you don't like so if there is a baby you'll take to it more readily'. This Carra sees something in you that you don't realize. Remember this: good people can make sinners better people and I should know that!"

Dio glanced at his watch.

"It's been lovely of you talking to me like this, Miss McGrath. I must push on. Shall we go to the computer?"

They sat at the computer and as it was booting, she said: "Let me tell you something, Dio. My father owner more than 8000 acres of farmland where we are now, with boundaries circling around a quarter of the town as it was in those days. You may be aware that many streets in the newer subdivisions of the past thirty years were given names relating to farming, such as Cowslip Terrace and Cattle Race Lane. They are all named after geographical or botanical features or animal husbandry activities of our former farm. We are now in Hedge Lane; only 12 years ago the lane had barberry hedging on both sides of it and this house was vacant, having been built long before as our farm manager's home. Our own homestead was taken away and is now a country restaurant some 160 miles to the north of here. Well, being given this home and being surplus to my father's property development aspirations, I broke my boredom by developing a hobby of collecting men, usually one a year. I would woo an itinerant man, bring him home, groom him and improve him and give him pocket money, with the promise that after one year I would hand him across $10,000. Some went immediately they pocketed their bonus, some stayed a while and my real favorite – much admired by many of my women friends – stayed almost two years before I decided I required a replacement."

"I see," Dio ventured, thinking of nothing better to say. He was staggered to hear this confession.

"Well, as you will see most of those men became very good photographers and photographed me – not pornographically, good gracious no – but as an object 'd art, I would suggest. Some are in very classical poses with wisps of fine silk draping my person and others are of me majestically nude, at least I believe I was that when in my peak."

"That's very nice."

"Indeed. Well, last year I had major surgery and recently I was told that 'it' was back and immediate surgery was recommended. But I decided no, my once beautiful body was now scarred. No more. So my time is running out. I have no fear about that. My only fear is what people would think finding these images throughout my computer. I don't know much about search and deleting, it's never been an interest of mine really. I could have destroyed the computer but I wish to give it to a local community group. Well, that's all," she said. "I can tell you where to find some of these images."

For the next forty minutes Dio engaged on a search and destroy mission. Miss McGrath certainly had displayed a beautiful figure when she was younger, though perhaps a little too full around the hips to make today's A1 list. Her breasts were beautifully and fully proportioned and in some of the graphics hung in a certain way that made Dio almost lick his lips. He was glad he didn't because Miss McGrath was watching him intently. 

Finally the job was done.

"Well, what do you think?"

"You were a real beauty, Miss McGrath. I fell like a butcher doing what I have just done."

"Oh, you dear sweet boy. I was hoping you'd have an emotional reaction to share with me. I always used to persuade my Apollo's – I called each one of them Apollo – to tell me their innermost thoughts. Do you notice how easily I got you to open up to me?"

"Yes, I did actually. But tell me, do you just talk and look at them or did you also...er..."

"Did I have sex with them? Oh, yes - did we have sex! Never did I pick a below par performer."

It was time to go. Dio handed her his card, saying, "I deeply regret you are ill, Miss McGrath. Please phone me if there is any heavy lifting or if you can't get tradesmen to call. I shall do my best."

"That's very kind of you, Dio. Come and give me a kiss. It's been some time since a man kissed me, and I miss it. But only on the cheek, mind you. You are not Apollo but you damn well could have been. Now, you take that envelope unopened. I want you to take all of that money. I have taken up your productive business time with my chatting."

During the next few hours Dio completed routine jobs at Ploughman's Crescent, Opossum Gully Lane, Chicken Street, Home Paddock Road and Homestead Road. Wearily he arrived outside his home just on dark but he re-energized instantly, noting Carra's mother's car parked outside the front gate. 

He had the random thoughts that either Carmen had arrived to do a bit of tar-and-feathering or Carra had come to take him to bed. He hoped it was the latter.

* * * 

At the home of the Flemings, Cal who'd arrived home just after four 4:00 poking around in the kitchen and lifted the tea towel to look at the evening fare. Later Carmen would tell Carra about the subsequent chain of events, as they had a shattering sequel.

Carmen liked to prepare the salad and lay out items for cooking around 4:00 and then going to watch TV, usually a 'soap' as she enjoys the occasional weep.

"What's this, mince?" Cal yelled.

Carmen rushed, thinking had he scalded himself dipping a finger into the simmering fish head soup.

"Ah, the mince," she said. "Sorry, darling, that's the best I can do tonight unless you want to go to the supermarket."

"I don't want to go to the bloody supermarket this late– it's gridlock out there."

"What nonsense. Heavy traffic conditions last less than an hour and will be getting lighter already. If you want gridlock you should go and see it in Buenos Aires." 

"But I have seen it there. We just have a smaller version and I know the traffic doesn't jam to a standstill as it does in densely populated cities overseas."

"Gridlock is gridlock, darling. It is illogical to think of it any other way. It doesn't come in different sizes and shades like cars do, you know."

"Gridlock? Who said anything about gridlock?" he said, now throwing a read paddy.

"I want to know what happened to those three choice pieces of steak that were in the fridge this morning?"

"Well, if you must know, when Carra announced this morning that she wouldn't be home for dinner tonight, as usual you didn't bother to ask her where she was going. But I did and she gave me a very satisfactory reply. She said she was going round to cook a pizza for Dio."

Cal didn't interrupt his wife's lengthy explanation - he knew better than that.

"I said 'Carra, darling, you can't select a lousy pizza for the first meal you'll ever cook for your man'. I said. 'Take these steaks'. And I dove into the freezer and said, 'here take these prawns'."

By now Cal was trembling.

"Then I fetched a bottle of bottle of Overflow Centennial Red from your part of the cellar..."

Cal sounded as if he were groaning. She continued: "Carra accepted the steaks, prawns and all the other things she'd loaded into her basket and her eyes boggled when I handed her the bottle of red.

"Her words to me were, 'Ooh, isn't daddy spoiling us?' "

She stopped talking and Cal counted to five to ensure she had finished talking. 

Then his teeth bared and a tell-tale pulse on the side of his neck was pounding like a junkie on speed playing the drums. He sucked in breath ready to roar but froze, whimpered and looked down. Right in front of him Carmen was standing, with her largest kitchen knife pointing 10 inches below his belt button.

"Say 'You did good, darling' – or use 'very well' if you prefer."

Beads of sweat appeared on Cal's brow. 

He loved it when Carmen allowed herself to get aroused like this. It appeared they were off to bed! But first it was necessary to defuse the situation. She was not playing, her eyes had turned black and smoke could well appear at any second.

"You did good darling!"

The knife dropped to the floor and she began to squeal in Spanish, popping buttons as she tore open his shirt. 

Dio went to the back of the Rime Street house and chuckled. Carra was asleep in the hammock and three of the neighborhood cats were sitting growling territorially beside her picnic hamper.

He charged, the cats fled and he fell - lips first - against Carra. The hammock, being ex-military issue, absorbed the additional weight. She wanted the kiss to continue, but he broke free.

"I only kiss after showering and putting on clean underpants," he announced.

"You sexy man, you," she smiled. "I've come to cook dinner for us."

"I'll have to give you a key."

She looked horrified. "What would daddy think?"

"Probably he'd wonder how many times I have taken you to bed."

"Dio!"

"Sorry, it just sort of slipped out."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just I'm a little nervous about daddy thinking like that. He still regards of me as his little girl. It's just that I haven't prepared him for weaning."

"Tell you what, let's go around and break it to him gently that it's about to happen, tonight probably."

Carra turned pink and her eyes sparkled.

"Tonight?"

"If we both think the timing is perfect."

"Oh, I do! I do! Let's put these things into the kitchen and go. I'll drive mama's car back home just in case – we may wish to sleep in tomorrow."

"You seem rather expert about this sort of thing?"

She colored and told him that her expertise came from thinking a lot about when it would happen with him. He muttered something that sounded like "Oh, God" and carried the hamper to the kitchen.

The happy couple went inside her parents' house but there was no sign of Cal or Carmen. 

Dio noticed the knife on the floor of the kitchen and stooped to pick it up, at that point noticing two shirt buttons, then three more.

Uncertainty swept through his mind. He didn't like the look of this at all, so he put his fingers to his lips. 

"This looks very suspicious," he whispered. "I wonder if someone has broken in and has them tied up or something?"

"My God," said Carra, thrusting a hand over her mouth; she began to tremble. "I didn't see any signs of a break-in at the front door."

"Oh Carra, that's the last point of entry a burglar would consider."

They crept through the house to her parents' bedroom, Dio in the lead with the knife held as he'd been trained to do in the Army. 

Quietly he opened the door, slamming it back in case somebody was standing behind it ready to mug him.

But only two people were in the bedroom. 

Carmen was spread-eagled on the bed, totally nude and tied by silken white cord to the four short bedposts. There were circles of what appeared to be red jam around her nipples and belly button. Her pussy appeared to be leaking semen.

Standing on a chair beside the bed, poised to leap on to it, was Cal, wearing a Jester's hat with bells on it. He was also wearing a pink ribbon tied in a bow around his very erect penis which appeared to be dripping.

"Ahhhh!" screamed Carra, pressed hard against Dio, ready for anything but not this!

"Ahhhh!" screamed her mother. 

He father fell off the chair then yelled, "I think I've broken my fuckin' ankle!"

Without speaking, Dio went into reverse, pushing Carra out into the passage. He shut the door.

Turning, he looked at Carra whose eyes were huge and she was shaking. 

Dio bellowed with laughter and she clutched him. At first her laughter bordered on hysteria but then as it slowed into straight laughter, she gasped, "That was so funny. But my parents...!"

Carmen was first to appear, now wrapped in a black and emerald green dressing gown.

Carra and Dio seated at the dining table looked at her expressionlessly.

"I suppose you are expecting some sort of explanation?" Carmen snapped, as Cal entered the room tucking an unbuttoned shirt into his trousers. He was limping slightly. 

Carra and Dio shook their heads.

"Well, I'm expecting an apology from you two," Cal growled.

Carra and Dio looked at each other then shook their heads.

Attempting to wipe away red jam that was coming between the flaps of her dressing gown, Carmen said quietly, "What now?"

The three Flemings looked to Dio for inspiration.

"All of us can easily forget what's just happened," he said weakly. "We just dropped over for a quick chat. We came to ask Cal to severe a tiny remnant of umbilical cord linking himself and Carra. There is no wish to severe anything else Cal – Carra will still remain your daughter in every other way and I have no plans to remove her from away from this city any time soon."

Carmen looked at Dio, trying to comprehend what he was on about.

"Dammit, what's this umbilical cord thing?" Cal asked. "That was cut and disposed of as soon as she was born. I was there."

"Daddy in effect you not a witness to that event," Carra asserted. "According to mama's account which we have heard many times you were in the corner of the room, nose on the floor, dry retching. But that's really irrelevant here. Dio is speaking figuratively. We want you to stop idolizing me as being daddy's girl and using it as a possessive tool."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Cal blustered.

Carmen was now aware what they were talking about.

"Darling, you can pretend to be so thick at times; she wants you to treat her as an adult, albeit someone who is your daughter and will keep on loving you."

"Is that what you mean, Carra?"

"Yes, but I warn you it requires a total mind change."

"You'll still call me daddy even if you're no longer daddy's girl?"

"Absolutely, for as long as you wish, which I guess will be until the first grandchild arrives."

"What! Are you...?" asked her father, looking at her midriff.

"Caleb, let your mind soar," Carmen chided. "You can do it. Of course she's not pregnant. How could she be? As I said, let your mind soar and at long last say hullo to your adult daughter. You are only several years overdue in accepting that concept."

"I'm an engineer, and not trained to look at anything abstractly," Cal said defensively. "Perhaps I have tried to keep a choker on my darling daughter. Come here, young woman and give me a big, fat hug."

Carmen watched, tears rolling down her cheeks. Dio, head down, scuffed circles in the carpet with his right foot.

"Bye, daddy," Carra said. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. I'm staying tonight at Dio's mother's house."

She hugged her mother, wiping away Carmen's tears.

Dio shook hands with Cal, and whispered: "Have a good night, and take a sickie in the morning. It's good for the soul."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 03



Cal went off to the bedroom.

Carmen walked out with Dio to the front door and watched him put her car away. Carra was in his bedroom packing an overnight bag.

When Dio returned Carmen said to him, "You saw everything of me, everything."

"Don't worry," he soothed. "I'll keep my mouth shut. Anyway, you look wonderful; obviously you're in great shape."

"You are a clever man, Dio Wellington," she said, ruffling his hair. "But it is your softness that I like; no wonder women like you."

She kissed his cheek and went off, leaving Dio waiting for Carra. 

He was shocked by her last remark. Had she been checking up on him?

Over dinner Carra asked Dio about his girl friends. She'd broached the subject gently and he'd knew it was a topic that was bound to come up sometime soon, so he answered in the way in which he was comfortable – truthfully.

Yes, there had been a line of casual dates.

"Mom used to call them 'Associations of opportunity'. Usually they would be girls at work acquiring a partner for a special function, daughters of friends of mom's or occasionally women on the prowl."

"Ooh, you make it sound like a jungle out there," Carra said, sipping her daddy's favorite red which would set on two rather strong pre-dinner martinis.

"It is, but game trophies are very rare indeed," Dio said, gazing at her so intently that she flushed. Noticing the flush he had a great urge to take her into his arms – but hey, what was the rush?

Dio spoke about his long intimacy with Louise, Sarisha and Celina stretching back to pre-adolescent days. Carra was fascinated, particularly when finding that the occasional times together continued after the three women married.

"So, one could assume that's why you did not marry – you had your mother providing you with a home, care and companionship and you had your girlfriends looking after your other needs," Carra commented gently. 

Dio held up his wineglass, studying the ruby red color for a moment. "You know, I've never thought about it, but I guess you're right."

"And now?"

"Do you really wish to know?"

"Yes," responded Carra, almost whispering.

"Well, they are out of the picture right now; from now on my total focus is on you. But they still are my friends, and always shall be."

He noticed Carra seemed to rise higher in her chair, a smile creeping over face. She'd going to leap at me, Dio thought but Carra did not move.

"I suppose you don't want to hear about my boy friends and sexual depravities."

"Nah."

"Liar."

"Well, if you insist."

"As mama would dearly love to hear me say, I've really been quite a good girl. No depravities, no married men or best girlfriends' boyfriends. Quite uncomplicated really, in fact the story of my associations goes a bit like yours. There were guys looking for a partner to some event, Mama's occasional attempt to pair me off to a son of friends and a periodic office romance that inevitably ended soon after they met the folk."

"The thundering inquisition: 'What are your prospects young man?"

They laughed and Dio took her outstretched hand.

"Did you hit the sack occasionally?"

"Oh dear, you want the naughty bits."

"Nah."

"Liar."

"Please continue."

"There was a nice boy called Tyson but his mother turned him off me because my mother was what she called 'a foreigner'. I'd had a couple of so-called 'flying lessons' when at high school but Tyson was the first person to have sex with me AND stay beside me. Then a couple of years later there was Tim, the neighbors' gardener..."

"Who one scorching day, sweat dripping down his bronzed unclad upper body, he grinned and said to you, 'Baby, may I do something about your garden?' "

"Something like that; he'd often caught me watching him and one day asked if I'd like to go to a movie with him."

"And?"

"Moving on there was Terry. We dated for nine months. He didn't ask to meet the parents so I didn't offer. However, he received a promotion as manager of his company's quarry operation at Tohill and that ended our romance. Daddy didn't want me to go with him, nor mama. He proposed as a last-ditch persuader and I went through the inevitable evening of tears and foot-stomping at my parents and fell asleep exhausted. I awoke next morning very clear-headed so called him and said goodbye."

Hmm, thought Dio. You obviously wanted the body but not the commitment. Noting that Carra wasn't looking upset, Dio pressed the button. "And?"

"Just the casual dates."

"So, you've never really had the hots for anyone?"

Carra turned scarlet. The hand in his clamped hard, causing his heart to miss a beat, or so he imagined. He sensed that she was not going to answer the question.

As they sat their quietly he thought and something that his mother often said to him came to mind – 'Be true to yourself, Dio.'

"Carra."

She turned and looked expectantly.

"I'd like you to think about moving in here with me. It's not much to offer but I am enchanted by you."

"Enchanted? Oh Dio." She dropped his hand and jumped up to fly around the corner of the table to him but caught the heavy wooden corner on her right hip and fell sideways. Dio dived from his chair and cushioned her fall with an arm under her shoulders, preventing her head from hitting the floor. They lay there, breathing heavily. She opened her lips slightly and he kissed her – a long, gentle lovers' kiss. Eventually he drew his head back slightly. "When can I expect an answer?"

She rolled him on to his back and said, "What about now," and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh dear, you aren't that innocent are you Dio?"

He smiled and watched her at work. She undid all the buttons and then spun around so her butt was now facing him and unbuckled his belt and then unzipped him. He could smell her pussy scent so his erection was good by the time she had it freed.

"What do you think?"

She breathed deeply and said, "It is pretty – no way am I disappointed" and then Dio felt a soft and presumably moist tongue dab against the top of his cockhead. For a ghastly moment he felt he would disgrace himself but fear seemed to momentarily cut the blood supply to his cock and the crisis was over.

He sat still not touching her knowing she'd either berate him for doing nothing or would signal him some how, either fiercely or subtly. It was done beautifully: as she began licking his length she pushed back until her pussy was over his nose. Well, obviously she knew was a sixty-nine was about. He pulled her panties aside, interested to set the wet circle, and licked at that moist and lightly haired spot. She grunted and sank down so his tongue slipped into the slip, giving him permission to proceed. He didn't have to work for long before she began gasping gently and creamed his mouth.

"Oh God," she cried. "You are the Michelangelo of pussy."

Dio reacted like any guy worth his sale should, and ejaculated, leaving her spluttering.

"Oh God, I've never taken that stuff in my mouth before."

"It's good protein; don't waste it."

The good girl began sucking and then licking him clean. She climbed to her feet and then lowered herself and hovered just over his half-inflated dick before she stretched out over him.

"What?"

"You're not ready and where's the condom?"

"I'll have to fetch one."

"I'm going to the bathroom. Where will I find them?"

"In the linen cupboard in a white box marked rat poison."

"You're kidding."

Dio smiled and kissed her peach-like cheek. "No it was originally mom's storage box she kept for her clients. She assumed it would be a deterrent to me and it was; I only found out when clearing away her things."

"Don't throw the box away – I think it's cute."

After she returned, sat on Dio and stimulated them into satisfaction Carra said: "I need to go home right now and pack some things."

"Oh Carra – that's a wonderful answer. I'm coming too as you'll need help to condition your parents to living with someone who's far too old for you."

She smiled, and seemed to be phrasing an adequate reply. "I believe the inevitability of this moment is already in their minds."

Returning to Dio's mum's house Dio and Carra kissed and strained against each other.

"Are you ready for desert?"

She nodded.

"Do you want ice cream and strawberry topping, or want me to do sweet pancakes?"

She shook her head. "I wand the kind of desert you have in bed."

In bed they snuggled together, the light still on.

Dio looked into here eyes.

"I'm so overwhelmed that you want to be with me."

Carra put a finger on his lips.

* * *

On Thursday morning Dio was speeding along the long and very straight Western Boundary Rd, heading for Mike and Celina's coffee house. In the distance he saw a woman on the middle of the metal road, waving as if in distress. It was Sarisha. Coming closer he could see she was bleeding from the mouth and a guy was standing beyond her.

The Holden slid to a stop and Dio jumped out and raced to her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You bastard," Dio snarled, lunging around the ute at the man but heard Sarisha's frantic shout, "No, not him! It's that cur," she shouted, pointing to a dust cloud in the distance. "He's pinched my cab."

"Jump in," shouted Dio, racing back to the driver's door. 

The man fell into the bucket seat and pulled Sarisha in to sit on his knee. He handed her his handkerchief.

The ute sent gravel flying as over-accelerating, Dio drove it into three snaking slides before easing back to gain traction.

"Where will he go?"

"We're about three miles to the T-section. Left is back to town so I pick he'll turn right," said Sarisha. "He'd flagged us down, pretending to be holding an inquired shoulder. Then the bastard whacked me when I wouldn't hand over the money."

Dio picked up his cell phone and selected a quick dial number. He handed the phone to her. "I've dialed the cops – tell them what's happened and to come quickly. Give the dispatch person your name and cab number as most of the cops should know you."

Dio had accepted Sarisha's logic – the thief would turn right. He scarcely braked at the corner and they went through it in a slide, mounting the rough verge, coming perilously close to sideswiping the boundary fence. He took his time getting the ute back on to the road, not wishing to go into an uncontrollable slide as the wheels hit the loose metal. 

They soon had the slower taxi in sight and then were right up behind it, Dio flashing the headlights of the Holden.

The driver being pursued leaned out and gave them the fingers. Then, before regaining his driving position, his stolen taxi went off the road and crashed through a fence below.

"Wait here for the cops. I'm going after him."

"Don't, please don't!" yelled Sarisha as Dio jumped out of the ute. "He could be dangerous."

"He's Jingo McCrone, Western Districts' disgraced left winger," said Sarisha' passenger. "That bush across the flats spells freedom for him; you have no show."

But Dio believed he would have a chance of running down the fleeing offender. Rugby wingers trained themselves for making short busts. He ran almost a hundred yards without gaining and sat down.

"Look at your friend," said the man who introduced himself to Sarisha as Jock McKenzie. "He's given up. I told him it was useless to chase Jingo."

But Dio was already back on his feet and sprinting.

"He's pulled off his business shoes," cried Sarisha. "Now watch him go!"

They could hear sirens and two police cars arrived.

Four constables and a police sergeant stood in a line alongside Sarisha and Jock, watching the distance between the front runner and the bush lessen at the same time as the distance between the second runner and his quarry was closing.

"Should have brought a dog and handler, Serg," said on of the constables. "Once he gets into that bush he's home and dry."

A car skidded to a halt and a press photographer and reporter jumped out. In driving up the photographer had already selected her largest telephoto lens. She pulled out another camera and instructed the reporter to go on to the other side of the road and photograph the line of watcher, who were pointing to the runners.

The photographer snapped off an exposure when only a hundred yards separated the runners and then in increments until both runners stopped and then she photographed the front-runner being felled by a looping punch to the head. 

The reporter standing on higher ground across the road timed his shot perfectly, capturing the constable the end of the line turning and clutching her jaw in mock agony, her hat flying through the air.

"Willis, Shanks – off you go, you're supposedly the fittest," ordered the sergeant. "And gallop, we don't want our hero having to lug the villain all the way back to town by himself."

The busy reporter's camera was now hanging around his neck while he wrote down the sergeant's comments.

Jingo was arrested, the sergeant and his team were pictured with the hero, Sarisha and her passenger Jock, who uttered a brilliant quote for the reporter: "Sarisha just needs to toughen up her left hook, when she let fly at the bastard trying to take her money after hitting her, she almost decked him."

The newspaper next morning had front page coverage of the event. Beginning with the sequential shots of the chase placed right across the top of the page, then a larger picture of the thief dropping backwards towards the ground with Dio's fist finishing the follow through. The story described what happened and included the piece about Sergeant Philips instructing his constables to charge out and recover the unconscious villain.

The report ended with some quotes from the reporter's interview with Dio, including:

"Shucks, it was nothing – just a gallop across the park for me. He must have had a glass jaw because I don't know how to punch.

"Why did I do it? I dunno. Sarisha and I grew up together as we lived on the same street. A guy doesn't need a better reason than that. She was in trouble; her husband wasn't on hand to help so I had sorta filled in for him. Went to school with Amol her husband as well.

"What do I do? I am self-employed – visit people who call me to remove filth from their computers.

" Nah, of course that doesn't mean I dust and polish them. I can't say any more as young children might be reading this story if you bother to publish it." 

Under that was a big picture of the reporter's photograph of the line of cheering police officers, with the Constable Eve Burgess swinging around in mock agony, clutching her jaw, hat flying. But those who selected this particular photograph to publish mostly admired her shapely legs and rather lacy slip that was slightly exposed.

Police Superintendent Kip Rogers was not amused to see that front page photograph of the rear of one of his policewomen and was contemplating ensuring that she would be put on charge for bringing the police force into disrepute. But then the phone calls started. Some of the callers were praising the police for exhibiting that they did have a sense of humor. So instead of checking on discipline he chatted with her divisional commander to ensure no action would be taken against Eve except perhaps to put her on foot patrol in the main street for a couple of weeks to assist police PR.

As usual, Dio put the wrong spin on things. He thought once the newspaper published the story that would be the end of it. He'd told nobody around the drama, except he did tell Carra in bed that night. She began smothering him with kisses and nips, calling him "My Hero." Eventually she reluctantly agreed to tell no-one, not even her mother which was a mistake.

When Carra received a phone call later that morning from her mother, Carmen went nearly berserk, crying that her daughter had no faith in her ability of keep a secret, that Dio was driving a wedge between mother and daughter. It was very heavy stuff. 

Carra gave her mother fifteen minutes to cool down and received another ear bashing - about not phoning back sooner. Dio lay in bed grinning, being able to hear Carmen shouting. Carmen finally calmed down after soothing noises front her daughter saying things like, "I accept your fiery reaction was unintentional and yes it will be fired by your Latin temperament" and "yes, it is amazing to have a hero in the family" and "yes I will scan the article so we can email it tonight to Melbourne and Santa Fe and all of your relatives mama."

Dio walked into Coffee Exotic at 10:30 and was mobbed. In fact old Ma Sharples, one of his primary school teachers, grabbed him as soon as he got out of the ute by the coffee shop and kissed him. "You always were a great credit and my favorite pupil of all," she purred. That amazed Dio as she had hated his name, his manners and indeed once described him as one of the most loathsome pupils to have ever passed through the school gates.

After Celina had finished plunging him against her bosom and Mike had mangled the bones in his right hand, other patrons and even the kitchen staff came to him to shake his hand, slap him on the back or punch his shoulder.

Back out on the street, Dio heard the shriek before he saw her but way in the distance he spotted Louise. He stood by the ute, waiting for her to arrive and heard with embarrassment her calling, "There's the town hero, Dio Wellington." There was lust in her eyes and for a millisecond he was convinced that she was going to take him right where he stood, in the middle of Lake Street – noble hero to vile sex-o within 24 hours.

To his greater embarrassment she pretended to go all coy, playing up to the small gathering of curious spectators. "He's town hero Dio Wellington. I went to school with him. My name's Louise – do you think I should kiss him."

"Yeah, kiss him Louise," shouted her friend Kerry-Anne.

"Kiss him, kiss him," began to chant some of the people.

Flushed with pleasure, Louise stepped forward and grasping Dio's face bent him backwards and kissed him – deeply.

Thank heavens this was not yesterday in front of the press photographer thought Dio, just as a powerful camera flash half-blinded him. 

"Madam," the same photographer said to Louise, "May I have your name and relationship to Dio?"

"My name is Miss Louise Messenger. I'm twenty-nine," she lied, and lying again said, "I was Dio's girlfriend at school."

"Thank you Miss Messenger; oh, one more thing, why did you kiss Dio?"

She lied again: "I was going to shake his hand, but then the crowd began to chant, 'Kiss him, kiss him', and I rather lost it, I'm afraid. But then his is the town's most eligible bachelor, isn't he?"

Dio climbed into the ute and drove away amid friendly waving from the dispersing gathering. It had been most embarrassing. There was a chance that the newspaper might publish a picture of Louise kissing him, but at least they would not print those lies of hers.

The phone went at 6:30 next morning, waking Dio and Carra who'd slept all night, not moving, locked in each other's arms.

"Hullo."

"I don't like my daughter's fiancée being kissed on Lake Street by one of the town's prostitutes."

"What's wrong, what's wrong?" whispered Carra, watching Dio's smile change into shock and his mouth fall open.

"It's your father; he couldn't sleep," Dio lied.

"What do you mean?" he asked, wondering who'd been lying to Cal.

"Caleb! I've said let me have the damn phone."

Hullo Dio darling, just ignore what my uncouth husband has just said to you. We all know that boys are boys and sometimes it can be difficult to let go. But it would be better to be just a tiny bit more discreet, don't you think?"

Think what? What the hell was she on about?

"Carmen, I WANT the phone!"




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 03



"Buzz off, Caleb. Go polish your beloved motor vehicle. Are you there, Dio?"

"Yes, yes anxiously waiting for enlightenment."

"Dio darling, you are described here as the town's most eligible bachelor. This is a great honor and we are so proud of you. We are simply phoning to ask what we have to do to secure you for the exclusive use of Carra. Mothers with daughters, even happily married daughters, are going to stampede you. So, darling, name your price...what's that dear? Oh, name your terms and conditions."

"Look, just because a damn reporter quotes Louise burbling nonsense because she'd a compulsive attention seeker and the newspaper is dumb enough to publish it, readers won't fall for it."

"Darling, don't we measure up to your standards?"

"What do you mean?"

"We have fallen for it, as you say. We believe you are the town's most eligible bachelor because the newspaper says that is so. It's right here in print and everyone will see it and believe it."

"What!"

"It's true, Dio."

"My god, I've got to flee the city."

"Yes, darling. We thought out of the country would be better. We are prepared to send you to Argentina. That will surely tempt you?"

"Alone?"

"No, with your darling?"

"You?"

"No, I call you darling, but Carra is your darling."

"Look, it's too over the top to flee the country. Could I sleep at your place at the lake until this blows over – Carra tells me you're got a place at the lake."

"What a great idea, especially if Carra can get time off and go as well. It's a great place for conceptions."

"What!"

"Oh, don't listen to me, Dio. I really don't know why I said that."



TO BE CONTINUED




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 04



Mr Computer Cleaner Pt 4 

The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero with the odd name of Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters; it becomes apparent that Dio is enjoying a life richer in many ways than most people around him. Dio is between girlfriends when he meets a damsel in distress on the roadside, with a puncture to her mom's car. Dio helps out and the twenty year old Carra invites him to accompany her to a function the next evening. The couple gradually break-down the hostility of Carra's parents over the 12-year age difference between Dio and their daughter and finally the resistance crumbles and become lovers. Dio apprehends a scoundrel witnessed by the police and newspaper journalists and Dio is hailed as 'town hero'. The couple flee to the Flemings' retreat at the lake to escape the fuss.

*

Carra Fleming was aware that her position with the Council was "under review" as part of a cost-cutting initiative. She went to the events manager – her immediate boss – who made an urgent application for five days' leave. The manager was obliged to state whether death, sickness or any other extreme family emergency was involved.

Fifteen minutes later the manager phoned Carra. "They want to know the reason."

"Tell 'they' that my boyfriend Dio Wellington, the town hero, is going into hiding and I need to be at his side."

Five minutes later the manager phoned Carra to advise the application for leave had been denied.

"Thank you Gavin for doing you best," Carra said. She emailed her resignation to him and began packing her things. As she left her office Gavin rushed to her.

"This is entirely unnecessary," he said. "I am appalled at the treatment you are receiving; you are destined to become a star performer. Although the position is under review I've contacted the CEO and he's told me confidentially that you will be offered seven/tenths of your position in terms of hours as a permanent job."

"Thanks Gavin," she said, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. "You have been a real sweetie to work with, but being denied leave and being regarded as only seven/tenths of a so-called valued employee with star potential, my resignation stands. Keep up the good work and give my regards to Mrs Smith, who now doubt will be relieved that a sweet young thing like me will no longer be flitting into your office."

"Damn Mrs Smith," he pleaded. "I want you around for your imaginative mind."

"Bye, Gavin."

Outside the District Council offices Carra made a phone call. "Hi Dio, give me twenty minutes and then pick me up at home and we'll hit the road; Lake Edge Cottage, here we come!" Dio didn't ask had she experienced difficulty in having leave granted at such short notice and Carra assumed it wouldn't occur to him that because leave wasn't granted she'd given up her job just to be with him.

Carra rode home in a cab – usually she walked, but this time she had cleaned out her office and had personal things packed into two cartons. She wouldn't tell her mother that she had resigned but knew Mama would find out in due course.

Carmen was waiting on the terrace for her and as Carra came up the steps she cried, arms outstretched, "Oh my poor lamb." She dropped her arms, realizing she couldn't get to Carra who was carrying two cartons, plus her handbag and the raincoat and umbrella she'd kept at the office.

"Mr Smith phoned, telling me what had happened, and saying that Council administration has reversed its decision and has granted you unlimited leave on the condition you withdraw your resignation. He wanted you to return immediately and withdraw your resignation but I said if my daughter has resigned, she'd resigned and would not contemplate returning. I know my daughter, I said."

Carmen began giggling. "I remember something Caleb told me last week about what one of his workmen had said when walking off the job muttering naughty things. 'Mr Smith', I said. 'You and the Council can stick your job'."

Carra dropped everything to hug her mother, both laughing themselves into tears.

"It was naughty of you to say that mama."

"I know, but I don't know what it means."

"Oh mama," laughed Carra. "You can be so funny, so adorable at times."

"Adorable only at times? Perhaps it's my daughter who doesn't know me!"

Twenty minutes later Carmen waved Carra and Dio farewell, tears running down her face.

Dio said, "She knows doesn't she that we'll only be away for two nights and you have your cell phone with you?"

"Yes," replied Carra, wiping away her tears. "I have a little Latin temperament in me, but mama has heaps of it. She just loves to cry."

"Oh my God," cried Dio, "All this rampant emotion, what am I getting myself into?"

"Ooh. I love it when you try to wind me up," Carra said, draping her right arm around his neck and scratching his ear. "Let's hurry and hit the shower. We haven't done at it in the shower yet."

"We could go leisurely, stop at the first roadside picnic area where nobody is parked and make love slowly, go for a bush walk, then drive on to get something to eat, then we could..."

"Listen Buster," growled Carra. "Step on it and get to the lake fast. If you don't I'm going to squeeze something you have great pride in until you go blue in the face and scream for mercy."

"Oh no, not the horrendous five finger squeeze. I'm going light blue in the face just thinking about it. Tighten you seat belt, my girl. Here were going!"

They stopped at the Almost There store to pick up bread, milk and the local paper as well as a trout fishing license for Dio. The Holden then scattered pebbles under heavy acceleration.

In the shower after much hugging and kissing Carra dropped to her knees and took Dio in hand, sliding him slowly into her mouth but she stopped short of triggering him into ejaculation. She stood, water streaming on to her face and hair and said, "Go and roll it on now – I'm very ready."

He returned wearing a stud and ribbed pink natural rubber condom.

Carra licked her lips involuntary. "Is it made like that to make me go wild?"

"Something like that and the woman in the pharmacy said I should feel more sensation as well but not to mind if it doesn't because my partner's heavier squealing will add to my excitement."

"You and the assistant spoke that intimately?"

"Yes – and why not? If they sell something they should be able to talk authoritatively about their product."

"How old was this poor sweet girl who must have been highly embarrassed."

"About sixty I would think."

"Oh God, a poor grandma; she must have been highly embarrassed. I had been thinking about this anyway – let's both be tested just before the wedding and on our honeymoon we could start having sex without a condom."

"This academic talk is making my dick lose interest."

"Here, allow me to stroke it...ooh, I can feel it going stiff. Let's get on with it."

Dio backed Carra against the back wall of the shower and lifted her high.

"Oh Dio," she sighed. "You are so strong – lower me a bit, slowly, and I'll guide it in; this is so exciting."

Dio no longer had a worry about his dick losing interest; it was hard – almost painfully hard; he bit her neck and she howled in delight and then screamed, "Fuck me," indicating a tigress he been set loose. 

A few hours later the lovers were on the porch watching the sunrise beyond the eastern end of the lake. Both were nude, sipping coffee.

Carra sat precariously on the top of the railing at the edge of the porch, the lake edge only twelve feet away. She was leaning against a post that supported the roof overhand, knees drawn right up with her head resting on them, leaving a breast showing on either side of her legs.

Dio stood four foot away, his back resting against the end support post facing her/ He sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving Carra and her very exposed body.

"My God, look at me," she said softly. "I never dreamed that I would sit like this in front of a man with no inclination to cover myself; I've become depraved."

"I think you are becoming more beautiful ever day that passes, you body seems to have become firmer, and there's a glow about you and..."

"Oh follow me this instant!" ordered Carra, thumping to the ground and racing off. "Come on," she called from the bed. "You have me all worked up; come here and complete the job."

"Just finishing my coffee; everything's ready at this end – be with you in a tick."

An hour later Carra was at the kitchen bench, looking across the lake at the first of the breeze fluffing the water surface. She was wearing a very short silk dressing gown that her mother had bought a couple of years ago in Paris. It was a type of gown and matching pair of knickers that Carra simply could not believe that her mother would ever purchase. She smiled, remembering that conversation.

"The Paris air in spring and the streets do something to you as if you wish to express yourself," mama had explained vaguely.

"Well, these clothes don't look like an expression of my mother – they look as if they belong to someone who's found the joy of sex again."

"Carra! Go to your room!" her mother had shouted happily.

Re-emerging from day dreaming, Carra said to Dio: "Look, stop reading that magazine. It will be another twenty minutes before the breeze gets here. Why don't you take your rod and do some fly fishing from the lawn?"

"Please rephrase that last sentence."

"Take dad's fishing rod and do some fishing on the lawn," she said, giggling. "He's spent hundreds of hours doing that; it's a bit late for the morning rise but I want to see your technique."

"I thought you wanted me to go casting?"

"Take your one-track mind and go fishing."

After starting breakfast, bacon under the grill, hash browns in the toaster, eggs in the pan with mushrooms and later tomatoes to go into the pan, Carra leaned on the bench, resting her face in her hands, watching. Her focus was on the town hero dressed only in battered khaki shorts, his back muscles rippling and he made some tentative casts, using the method she had described to him on the way to the lake.

After about twenty casts, he looked as if he were getting the hang of it. She turned the bacon over and looking out of the window she shouted, "You've hooked one, you've hooked a trout!"

"Oh, is that what it is?" he shouted back. "I thought the fly had woken up and was now fighting back."

"Keep the rod tip up."

"I always do."

"Liar! Let the fish run whenever it has the inclination."

"I know. Get off your ass and bring the net quickly."

"I beg your pardon! I'm getting breakfast you know."

"And I'm topping your father by getting a fish from right here on the lawn. Tremendous!"

"Oh you men. You're so competitive; little wonder women really don't like men."

They sat at the bench on stools eating burnt bacon, something resembling fried eggs but the hash browns, being in an automatic toaster, and the later added mushrooms and tomatoes were perfect.

"Sorry about the bacon and eggs. You had me so excited on the lawn I almost peed myself."

"Me too."

"What, peeing?"

"No you fool – excited."

"It's a fine looking trout, in excellent condition."

"Yeah, I feel like a champion."

"You can't tell dad where you caught it."

"I know. He's invested in this place, spending hundreds of hours getting everything just how he wants it. He also has that challenge on the brain: to be the first to catch a trout standing on the front lawn. I've no wish to take that heroic image from him, and if you gush out our secret when you get pissed, I'll keep you off sex for a week."

"Oh, Dio. You are so right; it would devastate daddy."

To the astonishment of the man who invariably gets the wrong spin on things, he heard her add, "How can you be so right all the time? And so sensitive when your job is rabbitting after porn? You are an amazing bloke."

"Really? Any more burnt bacon?"

Alec Simpson, a neighbor, called out a warm greeting to Carra, Her parents and the Simpson's had been neighbors at the lake for some fifteen years.

"Hi, Uncle Alec. I'm sorry dad is not here to go fishing with you."

"Bugger him. It's your young man I want to take out fishing," said Alec, walking right over to Carra. "I have to find out if he's good enough for you."

"I really don't think..."

"Don't care what you think in this regard, Carra. I'm practically your godfather. He has to pass muster. Anyway, you're all grown up now. No more Uncle and Auntie please; we're Alec and Melissa."

"Very well, and I guess I will surrender him over to you. He'll love to go fishing but I would not advise you telling him that you're looking him over. He could be a tad stroppy if he finds out."

"I spent a few years in Special Services, Carra. He won't have a clue that I'm sorting him out."

Special Services? Carra wondered what sort of outfit that was. Government spy department? Police undercover outfit? Armed Forces' interrogation unit? Perhaps the Employers' Council higher salaries survey committee? 

She had no idea, but thought that Dio would like to go harling on the lake.

The two fishermen returned at 4:30, triumphantly, with six trout. Carra and Melissa had just returned from shopping down in the tourist town at the northern end of the lake.

Carra and Dio accepted an invitation to dine with the Simpson's. Dio went to the Almost There tackle and supplies store to buy two bottles of wine.

Melissa Simpson served smoked trout with plain crackers and a yoghurt based dressing of horseradish mustard, capers and black pepper. Alec's flint dry Riesling provided a perfect match.

Thick vegetable soup followed then trout with a salad and thinly sliced vegetables and then came old fashion Mom's apple pie, with Melissa forcing a third helping on Dio. She said with a huge wink, "You've got to keep your strength up, my boy."

After dinner Melissa and Dio ate chocolates, washed down with cognac while the other two loaded the dishwasher.

"Well?" Carra asked.

"He's A-one , Carra. Of that I've absolutely no doubt."

"So did he answer all your questions?"

"Um, I never got the chance. He seemed to take over and had me either fascinated with his stories and his jokes or was asking me all the questions. You've picked a fine young man for yourself, Carra, I'm telling you."

"Well, that's dandy for you Alec, I was hoping that with your MI5 techniques of interrogation you would have uncovered something that Melissa and I could gossip about."

"Steady on, Carra. We were fishing you know."

"Oh, silly little me. Of course, I should have known."

"Hullo, hullo, what's going on here?" asked Melissa, with her brandy in her hand. "Hop it, Alec. Carra and I want to talk."

"But..."

"Go, Alec," Melissa said patiently. "You've got your riding instructions."

He departed and Melissa sat down on a cane chair at the small table. "Want to tell me about him?"

"It's the perfect setting here, Melissa; absolutely perfect. He's been such a wonderful companion and we've been living happily like an old married couple, if you know what I mean."

"That, I do know about, but happily like an old married couple? I believe such a euphoric state of cohabitation still awaits discovery."

"Oh, you tease. You know what I mean. I'm a bit worried, though. We go home the day after tomorrow and I am beginning to fear that he's not going to mention the possibility of us really going steady and perhaps...well, you know."

"Well, my dear," Melissa said, turning and looking at the sweet young woman beside her with great affection. "What else do you expect? He's probably getting more than he can handle right now without the worry of shouldering extra responsibilities."

"I don't think he's like that."

"Is he a male, with everything working and in excellent order?"

"Yes."

"Well, he will think like that."

Carra's phone went, so Melissa left the room, saying she'd be back in five minutes. Digging around in her handbag, Carra pulled out her phone.

"Hello, mama," said Carra, observing the details of the caller on the screen of her phone.

"How clever of you to know it was me," said Carmen brightly, still not aware of the finer points of audio technology. Are you having a wonderful time?"

"Yes, it has been magnificent. We are dining with the Simpson's, and to avoid you having to ask how they are, both look extremely well."

"And how are Melissa and Alec?"

"Melissa has come down with rabies and Alec has had his heart removed and is waiting for a replacement to come alone in the next month or two."

"Oh, that's nice. Alec's heart is fine you say. That's really good news. Has Mr Handsome proposed?"

"Oh mama, put the phone in tight against your ear and really listen. No he hasn't and I don't think he is going to say such a thing."

"Obviously he is getting everything he wants and has asked himself whatever more he could get if he committed to accept greater responsibilities."

"Melissa said exactly the same thing."

"Look dear, we're moving on to another bar so I better go. But listen to Melissa, she's an expert."

"How do you know that?"

"She conned Alec to propose to her when he was already engaged to someone else. Bye dear, but I'll keep my phone on all the time, waiting for the good news. Just listen to Melissa."

Carra sat twiddling her thumbs until Melissa returned.

"That was mama in such a hurry she couldn't talk to you, which must be a first. Anyway, she said I must listen to you, that you are the expert."

"Oh, really? You mother does have a silver tongue. Well, I sorted it all out while in the loo, and have made all of the arrangements. You are booked in at Lakeside Manor for dinner tonight. I know it will cost your lover an arm and a leg, but not everything he gets is free. Reception will ask him for his car keys for security reasons. I shall drive Alec over and he will drive Dio's truck thing back to your place, lock it and put the keys on your kitchen bench. Then at 11:00 you take your big darling out and tell him there's been a change of plan – that we've taken his vehicle home and that you're returning on Lady Lakeside. We are paying for the boat charter because it's for you and also Dio's given Alec so much pleasure at being such an excellent conversationalist and entertainer and being a great fisherman."

"Oh Melissa, how brilliant," said Carra. "You are a wonderful darling. But calling him a great fisherman is a little bit rich, isn't it?"

"Then he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"About who caught the fish?"

"No, but he's not a boastful type. I assumed he caught one, perhaps two."

"Yes, so did I. Alec is reputably the best semi-permanent fisher on the lake, but today your man caught six, Alec hooked two but they were under-sized so were freed. He was simply gob smacked, he told me, and was extremely grateful that Dio didn't crow about it; you see Alec is proud of the legend that surrounds him."

"My God, how could he not tell me something like that? I'll never trust him again."

"Now young woman, you listen to me. I am virtually your godmother; sometimes when something good and even great happens to a man, he prefers to sit on it, not saying a word. It lights something up inside him. Then one day when Dio gets old, he'll call his oldest boy to his side, or grandson if there are only daughters, and will whisper to him about the day he secretly became the greatest fisher on the lake. It won't be true, of course, because my Alec has hauled in hundreds of trout from this lake, but who cares? In telling a descendant, a new legend has been born."

Carra felt like crying. What a beautiful thing to happen! Whoever came up with the notion that men with insensitive, thick-headed bastards? That's Women's Lib thing of last century has a lot to answer for!




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 04



On the lake late that evening, with the massive Lady Lakeside dawdling at only four knots across a glasslike lake and yes, the half-moon was shining down on the couple drinking champagne Carra's dream was answered, though not without some pushing.

Looking at Carra bathed in the moonlight, knowing she was dressed in Melissa's white evening gown (with the back covered in concealed temporary tucks and last-minute gatherings held by tiny safety pins), Dio just stared at her. He was bushed.

"Isn't this romantic, sweetheart?" she ventured.

"Yeah, rather neat. Good of the Simpson's to give us a boat trip on the lake."

"Do you have any inkling why they should do that?" she said, checking that he wasn't falling asleep.

"Not to go fishing, I can tell you that. It's illegal to fish for trout after dark."

"Is it?"

"I think so."

"Where was I...?"

"You were slowly maneuvering to try to get me to propose to you."

"How do you feel about that?" asked Carra, shaking slightly from shock.

Dio was shivering from cold, dressed only in dark trousers and a linen collarless shirt. He walked over to her and sat on her knee.

"Let's cut the crap," he said, with authority. Darling, please marry me - ASAP. You can now squeal with rapture and kiss me passionately." The kisses rained upon Dio's face and the squeals alerted the bridge, with the helmsman gunning to twin Caterpillars to the maximum permitted speed on the lake of twelve knots. Lady Lakeside was taking the newly-engaged couple home although Carra hadn't actually given verbal acceptance.

The newly-engaged couple stood on the grass watching the rubber ducky and crewman that had deposit them ashore, return to mother ship.

Carra stood shaking, cell phone in hand, looking lost.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't decide who to phone first. My heart says mama, but my head says Melissa because she paved the way."

"That's easily solved, darling. No wonder you are looking for a husband. You phone you mother and I'll phone Melissa and then I'll give you my phone and you can tell them simultaneously. Working two phones together is a bit difficult but it won't be a problem here – you are all women and none of you will be doing much listening. You stand here yelling and screaming and I go in, make the coffee. What's Melissa's number?"

* * *

The Holden nosed out on to the feeder road with the Simpson's waving farewell. Early that morning Melissa had invited Carra and Dio over for lunch. The two men spent most of the time sitting in the sun, the women relieved to have them from under their feet – there was so much to talk about. They had a trout salad and later Melissa helped Carra to clean the Flemings' cottage and put everything away, while the two men lay back in their loungers, snoozing.

As the Holden rounded the first bend, with the waving Simpson's and lake disappearing from view, Carra turned back into her seat and looked. "Learn anything of value talking to Alec for hours and hours?"

"Yes," replied Dio. "He worked for many years in naval intelligence."

"What, as a cook?"

"No, silly. James Bond sort of stuff – listening in to snoop on military installations in countries considered to be either unfriendly or untrustworthy, following movements of foreign military aircraft and shipping and occasionally 'going in' to meet contacts or simply to engage in recognizance."

"What! Are we talking about the same person, Alec Simpson?"

"Yes, of course.

"Well, I never! Is that secret service activity still going on?"

"Yes."

"But why; it's decades since our country has been threatened by real war?"

"Alec says this – civilians believe war starts when the first shot has been fired. Military personnel consider war never stops – there always is someone, somewhere planning the next chapter."

"Well, look at Alec – all he talks about is fishing, football, fishing and asking what's for dinner. Surely he would have been the lowest of low in the clerical team?"

"When he retired he held the rank of Lieutenant Colonel."

"What! I don't believe it. He's so basic, though I don't say that unlikely, I really don't."

Dio gritted his teeth, aware what he was about to say next would stir the Latin temperament. "He is fluent in five languages and is passable in another four."

"Stop it, Dio. This is going beyond a joke. You are defaming a very kind man."

"Oh yes, kindly Alec. Carra, he has been trained to kill with his bare hands. He took me into his dressing room, and there I saw a Sword of Merit, presented to him when he graduated from a training base in the United States. I saw pictures of him in his dress uniform, more medals than fleas on a dog. If he lived in our city I'd regard Alec at town hero, not me, and he'd permanently be my town hero. I'm a two-day wonder."

Desperately trying to reconcile beliefs with disbeliefs, Carra knew that she had to have confidence in Dio. There was no sign of that she was being wound up. It was time to put her trust on the line, to merge with him unconditionally.

"Well, I believe you since you saw that evidence. But Uncle Alec as I used to call him...the kind man who wiped away my tears...I've so misjudged him. Oh, I'm so ashamed that I always assumed he was a nobody. Turn around, we must go back."

"He doesn't want you to know. Even you father doesn't know."

"What?" Carra looked at her finance, opened mouthed. "But why would he tell you, a total stranger?"

"He's decided he really likes me. As you know they have three daughters and only granddaughters so far. He said he needed to tell someone who was not of his generation and thought that I would suffice in the meantime. I didn't ask him what he meant by that, but guessed he's hoping for a grandson soon."

"That's it, that's it!" Carra cried excitedly, thrilled to have broken the mystery. "Melissa explained it all to me, though not about undercover work for the military. She was talking about fish."

"Fish? How dinky – fancy any old bloke waiting for a grandson so that he could tell him about fish. You've been out in the sun a bit too much today, dear. Ha-ha-ha – a fish."

Carra did not take offence. She sat back in her seat, smiling contently. Men think they know it all.

"Did Alec say anything else interesting?"

"There was one thing – that I should not too readily prejudge your father. He's had the advantage of observing Cal out fishing. He came to the conclusion that what he termed 'arrogant toughness' was only a facade, that underneath that demure he found a decent bloke, even if he is an Australian."

"What do you say?" Carra asked, focused intently. She was only just getting used to Dio talking to her meaningfully, though that was not a criticism.

"I said I came at it from another direction. I saw from the outset how he related to Carmen, yet his subordinate relationship was motivated out of love and deep respect, not submitting to secure her favors."

"You think that and you told Alec that?"

"Yes, women exchange intimate things like that, don't they?"

"Of course, but that's different."

"Of course!"

Carra urged Dio on.

"I said that I thought he was a man of two personalities out of necessity. He was required to be tough at work, soft at home, and tailored himself accordingly."

Carra nodded. "What did Alec say to that?"

"Ah some stuff, he said..."

"Stop mumbling, I can't hear what you're saying."

"He reckoned it took him several times together to come to that conclusion and apparently I'd done the same thing in a couple of meetings. He thought I was clever or something."

"Something."

"He used words I didn't quite understand and patted me on the back. It was a tad embarrassing; he was kinda praising me."

"I bet he was. He saw something in you that I did as soon as he saw you. I've also heard my mother say to you that you are a very clever young man, and mama is uncanny in the way she assesses people."

Dio though that was enough about him. Why was she interested in all this stuff that was now history? What did it matter? Women were a little difficult to understand at times. They seemed to have a great urge to know everything, but once they had the information what did they do with it? Jeez, why was he becoming so introspective? It was time to bail out.

"Why don't you tell me something about the background of your parents?"

"Well, daddy's folk are comfortably off and live in outer Melbourne. Richard his father was a property developer and went bankrupt several times but clawed his way back to begin all over again. His mother Pearl taught music at a boys' school, and that's where Richard met her when he was clearing away old houses for new buildings for the school. As soon as Pearl saw him she fell for him. When their eldest son – Cal - went to that school she resumed teaching music there. They had three more sons. I like my mother's Australians very much."

"I like hearing you saying that."

"Now on to my mama. If you think she's got a bit of fire in her, wait till you meet my other grandmother – a true Spanish matriarch. Grandpa is of English and Scottish ancestry whereas grandmother is an Argentine through and through – her family have been very much people of the pampas since the first arrivals of the family in the 1880s. Through grandma's inheritance they became very wealthy and live on an absolutely huge farm called an estancia. I've been there twice with mama, and love it. Daddy doesn't go back because my grandmother does not like him at lot. It's because he came and took her daughter away from her. Mama is an only child, and was brought up like a boy, wearing boy's clothes, but that is not so unusual over there on the pampas. She learned to ride like the wind and when she was in her mid teens became one of a special riding team that toured Europe and that's where she met my father, in England. He was there from Australia studying mechanical engineering. He stood outside the place when the riding display had been held, with flowers, waiting for her. Of course he was nine years older than she was..."

"What!" Dio yelped. 

"Shhh! I am telling you the story. The two men hired to stop fans and 'suitors' pestering the riders told him to buzz off. He told them to drop dead, and there was a fight just as the ladies were coming down the steps. The two men were on the ground groaning when daddy picked up the battered flowers and walked through the ranks of the curious horsewomen – there were sixteen of them according to mama – and he handed the sad looking flowers to her and sank on to the steps, unconscious."

Carra hooked her arm around Dio's and continued.

"Although she didn't touch him, she refused to leave him until help arrived. She was carried off screaming. Ten days later she was riding around the ring in Ireland, practicing for their show that evening, and she saw a man sitting on the seating, all alone. His head was bandaged; it was daddy. They were permitted to meet, but not to be alone. Three months' later when he'd finished his exams he made the long journey to Santa Fe, Argentina, to go to her. My grandmother rules the roost, so she consented to this strange man courting her daughter, because she assumed the Australian would be so overcome with their wealth and huge property that he would want to stay and share in it. Unfortunately daddy had filled mama's mind with romantic stories about Melbourne and Victoria. Within a year after their marriage they sailed for Australia. My mama liked Melbourne but disliked my other grandmother so eventually they came immigrated to New Zealand and to this city when daddy had responded to an advertisement about the sale of a crane and earthmoving machinery business. During their first year mama because pregnant."

Dio scratched his head. 

"That's a lovely story – your mother should write a book about it."

"She may one day, or perhaps I shall."

"What you, are you a writer?"

"I have completed two manuscripts, but neither is very good; but like my mama I am a romantic so the desire lies within me to share my thoughts. Perhaps I will become more creative when I start to tell her story."

"That sounds great. I shall encourage you. Now, what's this about your father being nine years – nine years mind you – older than your mother?"

"Mama explained the difference to me. Girls often tend to marry older men in Argentina; here they don't, unless it's the second time round."

"Oh, how convenient for her; a clever woman is your mama."

* * *

The lovers arrived at dinner at Carra's parents' home. As soon as all the kissing and handshaking was over, Carmen had them seated at the table. Cal poured the champagne and toasted them. "May you prosper and thrive," he said, with characteristic simplicity.

"We are so happy for you my darlings," smiled Carmen, who was looking radiant and dressed in her usual color, black – a black blouse, tight black trousers with slight flares and black slippers. She'd plucked a white rose from the bowl on the sideboard just as she sat down, and this was now in her hair. 

Looking at her Dio thought she looked rather attractive, quite delectable in fact. He smiled, thinking about that scruffy, bad-boy poet Rivers Fork before he'd met at the cocktail party-dance.

There was a slight pause in the conversation, and Carmen cleared her throat; he felt Carra who was sitting right up against him, stiffen. "Well then," said Carmen, her smile now flashing even more brilliance. "The venue."

Carra went almost rigid.

"You father and I thought we should ask Father Donnelly to make enquiries to see if it is possible for us to have your wedding in the cathedral in the city. Overseas guests will arrive at the city and anyway it is more central than this regional centre. What do you think?"

Cal jumped in first. "I agree in principle but my folk may think Melbourne is more appropriate."

"Well," smiled Carmen thinly. "Wouldn't that create a riot when my mother finds out that your parents had some influence on the wedding plans and she was not consulted. You know that would spell war Caleb Fleming!"

Caleb thrust his hands out, palms upwards, and clicking his tongue softly. "I know, I know, dear. You are not alone with that thought. But I'm just trying to tell it how it is."

"Then I would thank you to not to interfere Caleb when we are in negotiations."

"What negotiations?" Carra enquired quietly.

Dio leant back slightly and turned to glance at her. Carra's face had colored but surprisingly the centers of her cheeks were white. Through his thigh he could feel her trembling slightly. Oh hell, he thought. We are on the verge of a real scrap.

Carmen looked at her daughter, her eyebrows arched. "The venue, dearest; are you so excited that you have not be listening?"

Dio could now feel blood pumping through the thigh against his. Cal-The-Wimp was staring at the ceiling. Someone had to be fireman; he cleared his throat. 

Carra's fingers dug into his thigh and she whispered, "Don't!" He looked straight at Carmen, convincing himself that she was only flesh and blood like the rest of them and, anyway, everyone had the right to be heard, didn't they? 

Carmen's smile had vanished and two heavy daubs of red had appeared on her cheeks. Dio saw this, and hesitated. He decided procrastination might be a useful counter. Dio picked up his glass and sipped, went to place the glass back on the table, but drew it back and sipped again. He could feel those fiery eyes trying to render him senseless. "Lovely champagne Carmen, really lovely. Now, where was I?"

"The venue," she hissed.

"Oh yes, the venue. Well that's all sorted so we've relieved you of the problem."

The pressure of those fingers on his thigh was now excruciatingly painful. "We want to be married at the lake!"

The fingers withdrew from his thigh, and Carra slumped into her chair, expelling an audible whoosh! 

Cal's explosion sounded like "Jesus!" 

Carmen's eyes now looked really hooded.

"I cannot believe this," she almost snarled. "Carra!"

Although Carra had only mentioned the lake as a possible venue to Dio, more or less in jest, it now seemed preferable to the options already raised and might even work as an acceptable compromise. 

"The lake mama, absolutely."

Dio dug his fingers into her thigh in encouragement. She visibly winced.

"Does it pain you so to be so rebellious to your mother?"

"No mama, not at all. It's our wedding; we want it at the lake. We shall have a small gathering and have the wedding breakfast on the lawn if it's fine and not too windy, or otherwise inside the cottage."

"The cottage? But darling, I would rather die that see you have a small wedding. Lakeside Manor would be far more acceptable."

"You think so?"

"Of course. Many high society weddings are held there. Their capacity is two hundred and fifty people. I've been to a lovely wedding there but we shall do much better."

The three of them were looking at Carmen, wondering who'd put out her fire. What had happened to the cathedral? Her daughter checked that out.

"Aren't you forgetting something, mama?"

"What?"

"The cathedral?"

"Oh, that; wasn't that you idea Caleb? No, our guests will be greatly impressed with the lake setting and the manor. Darling, that tiny compromise would make your mama ever so happy. Could we not have the wedding on the lawn on the manor – inside if it's wet?

Carra looked bewildered: "Where did this two hundred and fifty number come from?"

"Darling, it is the capacity – it cannot cater for more, which is unfortunate."

"Dio and I thought twenty-five people would be about right – small enough to be very intimate yet large enough to generate communal dynamics."

"Oh darling. No, no, no. We could easily have a dozen from Argentina for a start."

"I can't see that," said Carra. "Think of the expense, and the length of the journey."

"Can you imagine any of those invitees declining and then having to face your grandmother," Carmen smiled, getting into her stride, the red spots gone from her cheeks. "In terms of understanding people you are still so young and innocent my love."

"Dio can think of only eight people on his side."

"Eight, only eight!"

Carmen looked shocked. She jumped up, came scuttling around the table and hugged and kissed the startled Dio, softly saying, "My poor boy, my poor boy."

Carra clapped her hands excitedly and said: "That's so nice of you mama, so sweet."

Straightening up, Carmen patted her daughter on the shoulder and replied: "Ah, yes. I am always nice and yes, sweet as well. Always; now, you must stay the night so we can begin to set out the finer points of planning."

Dio drove home alone, and entered the empty house. Loneliness covered him in an invisible cape. Even before leaning down to look for a CD to suit his mood he realized the Flemings in all of the tension-surrounded pressure of agreeing on venue had overlooked discussing a date. October – late October will be the period. Let them scrap over the day. Settling back in his black leather armchair, almost shivering in loneliness despite it being a mellow evening, he listened to some cool jazz thinking that (1) the wedding date could not come soon enough and (2) in the meantime Carra should be with him right now. He missed her – terribly. She would be discussing the engagement party but he'd made her promise – no agreement on anything until she'd discussed it with him.

He heard a gentle tap on the front door. Carra! But no, it was Leticia Wrightson from next-door, dressed only in a nightdress and slippers with a jacket over her shoulders.

"I was in the kitchen having a glass of water when I say you come home – alone. Your shoulders looked slumped so I thought something was wrong so here I am to check."

"I'm okay. Carra is staying with her mother; they are engrossed in wedding plans."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 04



"Oh, that must be boring and unnerving for a man. Are you inviting me in?"

"Er it's later, and your husband..."

"I never think this time as being late and don't worry about my husband – Alan came home late after drinking with friends and didn't even eat his lovely meal I had prepared. I would like coffee."

He stood aside and Leticia bounced in and immediately went in to the kitchen, dimmed the lights and pulled across the curtains of the window facing her house.

"I'll just have water," she said. "Coffee keeps me awake. You know I've been thinking; I turn forty in three months which means no younger man will consider me desirable."

"Desirable?"

"You know what I mean."

"I reckon is you dress well, keep yourself groomed beautifully and hold you weight in check you're haul in the casual guy for at least the next twenty years."

"Don't be absurd."

"I'm not – there always are guys out there looking for the opportunity."

"What is there about me that would attract them when I turn forty?"

Dio swallowed and looked at her breasts before asking, "More water."

"Kiss me and pull out these titties that seem to capture your eyes so much my lovely boy."

Dio decided he had no interest; that proceeding would be unfaithful to Carra but his rising dick betrayed him.

"Ooh, what have we here?" Leticia cooed, reaching for his bulge.

Dio kept telling himself no, no way but then she pulled down a strap of her nightdress and was pushing a boob at his mouth. He resisted by she was determined to have her way, reaching down and bringing her fingers up to rest under his nose before she pushed two of them into his mouth to crumble his resistance.

You're a weak lecher he groaned to himself as she pushed him firmly against the table and then pushed his chest with both hands, bending him over it. Well let her shoot a load into her mouth and she'll go home satisfied. But she simply sucked down on him no longer that ten seconds and leant over him and bit his left nipple hard.

"Ouch!"

Dio struggled to his feet and she stepped away, smiling at him and slipped her nightgown off, gloating at him. He snarled and lunged at her; she squeal not too loudly and he easily caught her, spun her around and began slapping her ass until she screwed her head around, he bent down and kissed her hungrily, They dropped to the floorboards in a tangle of arms and legs, his cock jerking as if eager to find somewhere to dock. It docked and Dio, fully aroused, engaged in one of the best fucks in his life, oblivious to his commitment to Carra. After they cleaned up and he sent her off Dio dropped into bed and went to sleep almost immediately.

* * *

In the morning Dio awoke, surprising himself by imagining his conscience felt clear, and worked clearing all of his taped messages. He was pleased: although his 'bulls-eye' newspaper advertisement that had drawn so much public response was not due to for its second insertion for another three days, the number of calls being received was increasing.

Word of mouth was at work, obviously.

Earl Smeaton, 17 Duckpond Road

Unshaven and probably unwashed, the very elderly Earl was near the front door patting a cattle dog. His weather-beaten face and ancient felt hat indicated he was a retired farmer.

Dio introduced himself and Earl cackled, "Say, I know you I think; weren't you were that useless boy runner who eventually made good – you used to practice on the overflow and had that little Indian lass keeping the stopwatch on you. I read the big write-up in the newspaper on you beating all the seniors. I don't forget those things because in my youth I ran professionally."

"What, for money?"

Earl looked at Dio kindly. "Would professionals run for anything else?"

Dio colored, and listened to Earl explain how young men in his day traveled in a circuit of towns on Saturdays and during the interval at sports events or even the Grand Parade at agricultural shows, they would compete, running for a prize of ten pounds, with lesser amounts for the other top nine finishers.

Dio suddenly remembered Earl, who used to graze his dry stock on the waste land – or the overflow as Earl called it. They chatted about those days and Earl reckoned there was a spot down there that he would have liked to build a retirement house on but the council would not allow any building on the land.

"It's a great site," Earl said.

Dio was left wondering what would be great about living down on the waste land.

Earl's problem was computer illiteracy. He'd purchased the old computer at what he called "a school clearing sale of redundant items" because his daughters who lived overseas had been urging him to get a computer so they could correspond by email.

"So you don't have a problem with porn?"

"Don't think so. What's porn?"

"Umm, show me what the problem is?"

All Earl required was tuition on how to reply to emails, send the reply, create new messages, send those off and how to check they were 'sent' as he didn't trust sending mail by machine compared with posting it in a proper mailbox at the post office.

Earl had a very large property, and when Dio was leaving he commented on that.

"Yeah, too big for me. I want to divide off a building site but the bloody Council won't let me. It says the waste water system is already over-taxed; bloody Councils!"

Philip Battersby, 10 Big Oak Crescent

As Dio drove up to the drive he saw who he presumed to be Philip Battersby taking sheets off the clothes line. Philip was wearing a suit.

"Thanks for phoning that you were coming but I am disappointed you didn't make it late last week."

"Sorry," said Dio, deciding not to explain that as a harassed town hero he'd had to leave town for three days. "I've been hit by an avalanche of work. Call-outs began at a manageable five to eight a day three weeks ago are hitting thirty. It's becoming impossible."

"Really?" commented the man who introduced himself as Philip. "That's amazing. Tell you what, you spend an hour working on my computer as a freebie, and I'll spend an hour talking to you as a business consultant – you will be a winner as my charge-out rate is one seventy-five an hour."

"Okay, but no textbook stuff mind you," Dio said and they laughed.

Philip had been a naughty boy. He explained that his girlfriend had been staying over and they had downloaded some free software to 'rip' some tracks off a DVD they'd hired – 'Frank, Susan & Trish's Weekend under the Blankets'. The 'rips' had disappeared on to the hard drive and Phil's wife Ella, who was the computer buff, was bound to find the naughty download. She was returning home that very night from a teachers' conference.

What should have been a simple 'search and destroy' mission proved to be a little complicated.

"What format did you save your rips in?"

"Dunno."

"What were the names you gave the files?"

"Did it so fast I don't think I gave them names. We had been drinking – rather a lot, actually."

Dio opened My Videos on the Windows XP operating system and found almost a hundred files, almost all about team leadership conventions and youth counseling.

"Not very promising is it?" commented Phil, looking very worried.

"If they are there, I will find them," Dio said. "We need this snifter software."

He loaded it and after a full search bingo, the files were revealed. Their headers were missing and even more confusing they were on c:drive rather than d:drive.

"Do I zap them?"

"Yes please," said Phil, looking decidedly relieved. "Then come out to the kitchen and I have coffee while we chat."

Phil asked numerous questions about Dio's business. He said it appeared from what Dio had said that although people watched him work on their problems, many appeared unable to replicate the key-stroking or did not possess the required 'tools', so Dio was bound to enjoy repeat business. In addition, other members of families might well have their 'confidential problems' and people would be always trying to expand their boundaries without possessing the requisite knowledge, so needed someone to help them sort it out. "Apart from that, what's in your favor is that for many, electronic sex is irresistibly invasive; it's addictive. I should know!"

Dio took a thoughtful sip of very strong and addictive coffee; it almost caused him to wiggle his toes. "Nice coffee."

"My wife's participation in sex is sub-par, but in maintaining home comforts, cooking and maintaining the coffee machine and buying the top quality beans she is a splendid performer."

"You don't need to be so frank with me, you know."

"It is my nature which is why I'll now tell you what to do. By that I mean not what I think you should do per se, but what I would do in your position; there is a significant difference. You should move to set up an administration centre, computerize it, engage as consultant, a good lawyer and a good accountant – though I guess the accountant is already in place. Then you should engage me as a business development consultant and then, as a team, we shall being to syndicate your business – of course, after registering the name. Then, in two to three years from now you should be a very wealthy man."

"What, as Mr Computer Cleaner?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Because ... because it's such a low level business."

"You're missing several vital points. Consider this: You've come up with a unique service; you have proven there is a demand for it; you are localized – there is potential to go regionally and then nationally."

Dio nodded in agreement.

"You said you charge-out rate is sixty bucks. Then increase that to eighty bucks, which is the rate people expect to pay. You as master franchiser skim of twenty bucks per call. Your willing little helpers pleased to be in business practically as their own bosses, will work their butts off for you and themselves. End of story. Any questions?

"Just one. When can you and I have our first business meeting?"

At mid-morning Dio drove into town conspicuous in his bright red ute, but he may as well have been invisible. He was not mobbed and the majority of people walked by without even a stare. He felt free, and realized fame was a little like one's potency – there today, gone tomorrow. 

When he entered Coffee Exotic it was as normal. Celina waved him to a table and smacked her lips at him, while Mike unleashed the normal one friendly wave. Louise walked passed, looked in and waved to Celina but did not notice him. At this Dio was beginning to wish just a little touch of fame would be about right; being virtually ignored was not so good. He picked up the local paper not expecting to see his photograph or even his name mentioned, and was not disappointed. Just as he was about to toss the paper down a name caught his eye. It was under Births: 

Manu, Richard and Margaret, a healthy beautiful daughter to be named Di. Ricky and Maggie thank the Home Birthing Team,

Dio dropped the paper and rushed out after Louise.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said. "I had imagined you would be in hospital being treated for acute over-use erectoritis, with the poor little thing all tied up in a splint. But they do have miraculous cures these days, don't they?"

"Yeah, yeah. And good morning to you, too, Louise. One of my clients has just had a baby – a girl. I want to take her a present but have no idea what to buy. She's a little small for a tricycle I would think."

Two minutes later they parted, Louise continuing on her way to the bank, Dio happily racing off to Mrs Tonkin's baby and infant wear shop to buy a pink cotton open-cell blanket for Maggie's baby. Louise had admitted that she still had hers, somewhere.

Dio had just sat down on the porch with a beer that evening when Carra phoned.

"Hi Carra; lovely to hear from you," he said, his conscience tweaking slightly.

"I want to come over, I'm desperate for sex and, oh, I've been missing you as well, really missing you?"

"Yeah. Come without knickers if you are really in a hurry."

Afterwards they sat out on the porch eating pizza.

"I better start looking for a job tomorrow," Carra sighed.

"Wanta work for me – sorry, with me?"

"What doing? I know very little about porn."

"Nah, administration manager with special responsibilities for partnership development, publicity and PR."

"Really? Has sex before pizza gone to your head?"

"Nope, I'm serious, very serious. It's a job that could fit you like a glove."

"You have to be joking?"

"The operation is going to be syndicated locally, then regionally. Once those initiatives are up and away we go nationally," said Dio, angling his head backwards and dropping a slice of pizza topped with bacon, tomato, basil and black olives into his mouth.

Carra, wearing a skimpy dress, went over to sit on Dio's knees. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"Okay. 

"Right done; now, before more cuddles let's discuss the engagement party. What are your mother's impossible demands?"

Carra smiled, "Daddy and mama have told me to organize it. They would like it in their home but that's over to us. She's promised not to hire a marquee unless you request it. She would like to engage Bon Appetite Catering but that may not be your wish. I think that's about all – oh, they absolutely want to pay for everything. What do you think?"

"I'm not bothered and feel perhaps that doing all the organizing will interfere with our sex life and ... and..."

"Our business planning?"

"Yes, let's not forget our business planning." Dio, eyes shining brightly, pulled at her boobs and said, "Let's go inside, luscious one."

She pressed against him, matching curve for curve, as she heard him say: "Your mama is a clever woman. Tell her, if you agree with this, that I would like to invite sixteen people and it's over to her to do as she wishes. Just mention though that some of my guests may appear to be a little eccentric for her tastes, but that's life."

"Oh, you wonderful man," Carra said happily. "She'll love you for this. What are we doing still sitting outside here?"

"Change of location; it's lovely out here and I've locked the side gate. After a little cuddle here, I'm going to lay you across the table and..."

"Whatever you say, Mr Romantic. By the way, mamma wants me to stay back at home at nights but I kissed her and asked what she would do in this day and age if she were in my position. She rolled her eyes and said I should not be putting such disgusting thoughts into her mind, and said she would miss me."

Three weeks later the engagement party was held at the Fleming's home late afternoon on the last Saturday of the month (perfect timing as the main rugby and league matches were early afternoon games).

The day had dawned with light rain falling. When Carmen peeped through the curtains and saw that it was wet, her screams of frustration almost reached Dio's mother's house. Almost miraculously it seemed that the screams forced a climatic change, because the rain stopped and within a couple of hours the sun was drying the ground. By 11:00 Bon Appetite Catering received the go-ahead to proceed with an outdoor setup with tables and chairs to be placed under a huge open-sided marquee.

"Here they are!" shouted Cal at 4:45 when Carra and Dio arrived.

Dio was wearing a fawn silk shirt, darker fawn trousers and two-tone brown boat shoes, and looked exceedingly happy. He and Cal disappeared.

Looking like something out of a magazine 'What to Wear at Garden Parties', Carra was in a beautiful mottled blue and green silk dress that fitted her like a cocoon and white sling-back high-heeled shoes and a huge wide-brim white hat.

"Your dress sense seems to get better by each passing day," said Carmen as they kissed. She looked dressed to kill – a calf length black tunic, slit up on both sides well above her knees with a brocaded bomber jacket in the same fiery red as her long underskirt. Her raven colored hair was piled high, adorned with two magnificent heavy silver combs.

"We both look top shelf," Carra purred, envious of her mother's darker complexion when it came to dressing up. "I knew when I saw that tunic in the shop it had your name written all over it. But I'd hoped you would be brave enough to not wear an underskirt – your legs remain sensational, mama."

"Oh, you adorable child. The compliments are flying, so again I say I like your tastes."

"Not mine, mama – I was just the model. Dio picked out everything."

"Good gracious, isn't he more that just a pretty face," Carmen cooed. "Where is he?"

"I saw him and daddy going to the caterer's tent, no doubt to sample the chilled prawns and to test the temperature and strength of the beer."

"Why do they have to do that?"

"Why do women cooks have to taste the cake mix when they know exactly what they've put into it? It's just the thing to do."

"Oh, of course; you know when I awoke this morning and saw it was raining I screamed."

"I know."

"What? You heard me over at Dio's mother's place?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God, how very suburban on me!"

"Just kidding mama; of course I didn't."

"Thank goodness for that. You had me going for a moment. Oh, here are our first guests. They must be Dio's friends. Do you know them?"

"Yes, I do. They are real characters."

"Hullo Marion, Rivers," greeted Carra, and as they kissed Carmen wondered what the man's name was. 

"Mama, these two literary people are my friends and also are known to Dio – this is author Mrs Marion Wells and her constant companion Rivers. Rivers, you are not to tell my mother any of those foul ditties unless she is properly drunk. Do you promise?"

"Is this your mother? Gawd, she looks like your young sister. And look at her body?"

Carmen didn't know whether to slap and hug the hairy man. 

"Rivers what?" she asked, genuinely interested in the man simply because he looked and sounded interesting.

"Fork, ma'am."

"No, sorry. I meant your name."

"My name is Rivers Fork, ma'am." Taking Carmen's hand he said, "I'd lead you to the bar, but can't see it. Perhaps you will do the honor?"

"I think this fancy talk of yours is masking a naughty man," Carmen said, as she led Rivers away to the marquee, winking at her astonished daughter.

Marion wasn't at all upset to watch Rivers walking off with someone else. "I think he's trying to land more than he can handle there, don't you think dear?"

"Yes, unless he keeps his brain fully engaged and remains charming," replied Carra. "But one never knows with mama. I think there's something of a naughty girl deep down inside her. But tell me, how's the writing going?"

"Fine, I received an acceptance from a publisher in Sydney two weeks ago. Here, my darling, this is a little something from Rivers and me. I truly did make the Old Fart cough up."

Carra opened the package excitedly. It was a beautiful heavy silver photo frame.

"This is gorgeous, but really it's too extravagant for a struggling poet and a writer."

"Yes, perhaps that's our problem. We're not struggling – I own three commercial properties through settlements from failed marriages and Rivers owns five well performing country hotels."

"So you don't need to be writers?"

"Oh yes we do, dreadfully. It is our chosen calling. I didn't choose to own property and Rivers simply inherited his properties from his parents."

It was a great evening, with much gaiety. Cal tried to keep the sound system down but young folk kept turning it back up. Just before midnight, acting on a noise complaint, Sergeant Mick Philips and Constable Eve Burgess arrived to close the party down. But they relented and looked for an alternative when they found that one of the guests of honor was Dio. Eve also knew Carra as they used to play in the same hockey team.

Eve had a chat with Carmen before Eve went over to talk to the complainants. She came back, gave the thumbs up and the two women went back to the complainants' home carrying a tray of food and two bottles of wine. Eve and Mick stayed on for an hour to ensure their noise abatement policy was working – and to enjoy some refreshments. Mick had erected a taped cordon around the music centre. Wording on the tape read: DO NOT ENTER. POLICE INVESTIGATION AREA.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 04



Earlier, Dio had gazed at his vivacious fiancée talking so charmingly to a couple of her mother's friends. He shook his head; her uncontrollable tongue had escaped its secrecy constraints again. It was Mike who revealed Carra's indiscretion.

While Celina had been giving Carra an elegant satin-finished aluminum dressing table jewelry box, her husband had handed his engagement gift to his old buddy – a three piece trout rod with a top-of-the-line traditional reel from England.

"For the champion fisher of the lake – wink, wink," Mike grinned, slapping Dio on the back. "You can deliver six trout to our house any time you wish."

Secrets are not safe with Carra, Dio thought, holding the packaged reel affectionately as he turned to welcome his sensationally dressed neighbor Leticia and her smartly dressed husband Alan, "Watch my gloss darling," she instructed as Dio went to kiss her. "Isn't this an exciting time for you and sweet Carra."

Dio hadn't known she knew Carra and then thought they must have introduced themselves when he was away at work; Leticia didn't work Tuesdays and Thursdays. Alan shook his hand and slapped him on the back and stood shyly while Dio introduced him to Carra; obviously they hadn't met. Dio then led a willing Alan off to the bar to the group gathered around Cal.

When he returned Carra was talking to the Innes-Morgans. Dio knew them as Cal and Carmen's oldest friends in the city, Dick having been Cal's accountant and his wife Beth having her first baby only a month before Carra was born. He saw Beth hand an envelope to Carra but then his attention was diverted with the arrival of Ricky and Maggie Manu with their tiny newborn, Di.

"We've only come for a few minutes," Maggie said, offering her hand to Dio, but he moved in and kissed her on the cheek. "I was hoping you would pop in with Di," he said

"Yeah, just for a few minutes," confirmed Ricky. It's baby's first night out – heh, heh, heh."

Carra saw the couple with a baby in a carrycot and went over to join them, knowing who they were from what Dio had told her.

"This is my lovely, Carra," said Dio, pulling her in against his chest. 

"This is Maggie and Rickie and their new daughter Di."

"Oh, isn't she gorgeous," Carra cooed, bending over to look closely at the sleeping baby.

"Carra, may I borrow lover boy for a moment? Maggie asked.

"Yes, by all means – I've got something better here," she teased.

Maggie led Dio to the front terrace, where they appeared to enter a serious discussion.

"You know Dio is a real straight guy," confided Ricky.

"It takes one to know one," countered Carra.

Ricky sighed, "If you only knew."

Dio returned, walking hand-in-hand with Maggie. He looked very thoughtful.

"What's wrong?" asked Carra, swinging her gaze between both of them.

"They're not churchgoers but want me to be honorary godfather to baby Di. I have accepted."

"How marvelous, you'll love that; but why?"

Maggie offered a beautiful smile: "Dio came to help sort out something on our computer, and we got chatting away, the three of us were just so relaxed. We'd been in that house for three weeks and he was our first visitor. He was so interested in us and the imminent arrival of our baby."

Carra patted her man on the arm and said, "He's like that."

"Two days later neighbors down below us called, bringing us a welcoming cake. They said Mr Computer Cleaner had been talking to them. Then during the next few days three more neighbors called, one of those women has just had a baby and we're now seeing each other almost every day. They all said that Mr Computer Cleaner had said we were out on a limb in a new neighborhood and would welcome visitors. Then Dio called back to see how I was. He was ever so pleased that people had called. He was almost as pleased when I confirmed that I would not call my baby if it were a boy Dio. I said I would call him Dion, and his eyes rolled into his head in relief. Later Dio brought around a lovely pink blanket for Di and then we received this invitation to this function. He's been so lovely to us, helping us to re-establish. Di needs another good man around is case he's ever needed."

It was time for Ricky to say his piece. Perspiration appeared on his forehead and he looked very uncomfortable. He spoke almost as a whisper.

"Dio and Carra – two years ago I did something stupid. One night when I was drunk I hot-wired this car and drove myself home, parking outside our place. The cops arrived early in the morning and arrested me. I got off lightly, a fine and compulsory community work. Most of our friends deserted us, and who could blame them, though I resented them treating Maggie as if she were the criminal. We stuck it out, thinking things would get better, but they didn't. So we sold up and shifted in with my parents. Then Maggie became pregnant and we decided to buy our own house again, so here we are. I have no intention of ever offending again. I am a diesel mechanic and happy to say two weeks ago got this great job with an agricultural machinery company. That's all I wanted to say."

Carra looked concerned and put her hand on Ricky's arm. "Many people commit one stupid offence in their life Ricky and yours is behind you. Thank you for being so open to us. I admire you for doing that. I apologize for being so forward, but I'm available should you require an honorary godmother."

Ricky began mopping his eyes with his sleeve, choking.

"He's trying to say, 'Yes, it would be an honor – or at least something like that'," said Maggie softly. "That's very sweet of you, Carra, and may I say we accept."

The women hugged and the men shook hands.

"This calls for a drink," said Dio.

"Maggie?"

"A light soda please; I'm on milk duty."

"Oh yes," blushed Dio.

"Ricky?"

"Light alcohol beer, thanks."

Dio returned with a juice, a glass of champagne and two beers to find Cal shaking hands with Ricky.

"Maggie," said Rickie, "This is Carra's dad, Cal Fleming."

"Good evening, Mr Fleming. It's a great pleasure to be attending your daughter's engagement party and to meet Dio again. May I introduce you to our daughter – Di."

"What a bonny wee baby Maggie. But call me Cal please."

Cal turned to Carra and smiled. She looked so beautiful. He then looked serious. "Carra, who's the woolly-faced chap that seems to have entranced your mother, or is he one of your lot or Dio's?"

"We both know him Cal," Dio replied. "But don't worry about Carmen paying him too much attention. He will self-destruct after he switches to whiskies."

"He is – I just watched him down one in one gulp. What do you mean self-destruct?"

As Carra prepared to explain, Carmen came out of the marquee almost at a run. She spotted Cal and came over to him.

"That unshaven monster is the rudest, most foul-mouthed man I've ever known and that includes you Cal."

"Who?" Cal asked innocently.

"That hairy-faced buffoon who thinks he'd a poet."

"Oh, you shouldn't mix with those types, darling," soothed Cal, grinning. But Carmen had her attention diverted and was clucking over the baby.

"She's Carra's," Maggie said. "I've been minding her for your daughter."

"What!" Carmen shrieked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, ever so sorry Mrs Fleming. "It's just that I'm wicked tease as I have four older brothers. Please forgive me."

"It was a joke, mama. She's really very nice. Maggie, I'd like you to meet my mother Carmen Fleming."

"What a wonderful presentation you have put on for your guests, Mrs Fleming," said Maggie, working on damage control.

Carmen nodded at her unsmilingly. She then had a thought.

"You know Cal, that poet's name is Rivers Fork – truly. He is a trout fisherman and he knows 'The Man From Snowy River' and has actually wandered through the Mount Kosciusko region looking for inspiration. He's really a hard case, with a wicked sense of humor. The only downside about him that I know about is he likes winding up women."

"Sounds like my kind of guy. I'll get him a double and have a chat with him – nice meeting you Ricky and Maggie. Nice meeting Di too."

"He seems very nice," commented Maggie, still in damage control. She was rewarded with an appreciative smile from Carmen.

Carra seized a moment alone with Dio and hugged him. "Isn't it a wonderful gathering, it's going so well."

"Yeah, but I think you mother has over-ordered on booze. There's going to be heaps over."

"Well, aren't we lucky? All the leftovers are to be delivered to your mother's house as mama believes we'll have lots of callers coming around tomorrow. Daddy will be making the announcement later."

Dio was impressed. "Boy, she knows how to throw a party."

"It's her way of saying thank you, darling. You allowed her to spend their money on this function they way she wanted."

"Oh, I didn't think it was such a big deal?"

"Dio, almost everything with mama is a big deal. You should know that by now."

Carra, who was holding an envelope, gave it to Dio, asking him to put it into his pocket.

"What is it?"

"Our engagement gift from Pam and Dick Innes-Morgans. Take a look."

Dio did so, pulling out a key. "What is it?"

"The key to their beach house on the Meridian Coast in Queensland. It's almost a shack with no other place nearby and on very high tides the sea laps around the floor piles. "Some people go to the bush, the mountains, the desert or the sea to chill-out. Pam and Dick have this alternative, and you'll love it. The only downside is that the nearest shops are thirty-two miles away."

"Oh darling, grinned, Dio. "I'll have to learn to play cards so that I shall be worthy company for you."

"You do that and I'll do my best to get interested in fishing; deal?"

"It's a deal."

Louise came up to them, weaving slightly. The beautiful work her hairdresser had done to shape her dark golden hair artistically was already history.

"A deal - is that related to sex?" she enquired, arching her eyebrows while emptying her champagne flute.

"There is a life after sex, you know," Dio grinned. "I'm going to learn to play cards."

"And I'm taking up fishing – as long as I don't catch anything," Carra said.

"Come on, Louise," she said, taking her by the arm. "Your glass is empty and I'm dry. Let's hit the bar."

Dio stood watching them almost skip away. An arm slipped around his – a firm, cool arm.

"Initially I thought Louise was a little common, but she has a warm heart and much character," said Carmen. "I've had quite a chat with her tonight and she'd told me a lot about you. My, what a wild young man you were!"

"You would have learned nothing but generalities from her," Dio said confidently.

"Yes, Carmen quite right," Carmen sighed. "I'm usually good at pumping information from other women. But neither she nor that lovely little Sarisha were very forthcoming."

"They were looking after their own Carmen; we lot are a very tight bunch."

"I can see that. You know, I grew up in a man's world and the men on our estancia feared to fraternize with me other than to exchange pleasantries. They knew that if they transgressed they would be thrown off the property by my mother or, even worse, staked out and left to."

"What, left to die?"

Perhaps, but one would assume the unfortunate would be freed by friends. My mama is a hard woman, Dio."

"Jesus!"

"You are in my company, Dio."

"Oh gosh; I apologize for my uncontrolled profanity Carmen."

"You are very clever Dio, making a retort that only sounds like an apology and a retraction."

"I can't retract what I don't believe. It is acceptable to me to cry Jesus! when I am flabbergasted. Even so, I do not seek to belittle the name."

"That I find acceptable, Dio. Now, for the reason I have come to you. When this function ends the caterers will deliver everything remaining consumable to your mother's house. It will be left in your driveway in a refrigerated trailer, requiring you to hook up to electricity when you arrive home. I trust that is satisfactory. You may wish to entertain other people tomorrow – we have already been invited to join you for late lunch around 2:00."

"That is very generous."

"It is my way of saying thank you."

"Just the words thank you would have been enough."

Carmen walked a little away from Dio, turned and smiled. "As my daughter will tell you, it is not my way to say thank you verbally. I was never allowed to say it as a child. When it is very appropriate, however, I do make the effort, and that time is now. Thank you Dio Hamilton for coming into our lives; you have made our daughter very, very happy. She hasn't been this happy for a great many years. Thank you again."

She smiled and was gone.

* * *

Dio stepped from his ute, dashing for the porch through a spring shower. For some weeks he'd been taking lunch on Wednesday to share with a new girlfriend, Miss Alice McGrath. She adored these visits, telling him so. The downside was evidence of her deteriorating condition, cancer having taken unrelenting hold, her doctor now visiting her three times a week.

Each time she'd asked him about Carra, chided him for not bringing photographs. So to make up for the photograph lapses on his previous visit he'd brought Carra with him. The two women bonded immediately, both aware that time was short. The near-instant bridging was assured with Carra providing as detailed account of the engagement party to which Alice had regretfully been unable to attend.

Alice sent Carra into peels of laughter when grumbling, "All he would tell me was there were lots of people were there and you all had a great time."

"My goodness, my dear. You have a beautiful laugh – you sound angelic."

When Carra went out to make tea, Alice told Dio he'd found himself a little treasure. "Now, tell me what's cooking with you?"

Dio told Alice about meeting a client who'd suggested that he should franchise his business, and that had her keen to offer advice.

"Don't be greedy, insist on the maintenance of your standards and give absolute priority to customer liaison. Oh, and face every complaint squarely and fairly."

"Do you know this consultant, Philip Battersby?" Dio asked in surprise.

"Never heard of him, why?"

"Because he told me exactly the same things in his office this morning."

"Well, it's just plain common sense. Anyone involved in selling produce or stock on-farm knows that. "Look, will you do something for me?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

The deep lines in Alice's face seemed to soften as she said proudly: "I have arranged to leave all of my money to a charitable community trust named after my father. I would like you to consider being one of the five trustees. A large amount of money is involved."

"Yes, it would be a great honor. I would like to do that very much and it will mean maintaining a link with you."

Alice reached out for his hand. "Thank you. I have assessed you as a young man of integrity, balance and personal generosity of the spirit, if you know what I mean. My solicitor will be in touch. Could you please write down the name and telephone number of that business consultant – I feel that it will be useful talking to him. Now, where is that darling princess with our tea?"

Carra walked in with the tea, beaming. "My, you have a wonderful collection of antiques, Miss McGrath. "When I ran my hand over the back of one of those dining room chairs a feeling of warmth seemed to run up my arm."

"You, a young person who admires old furniture? Dio said something similar when we first met."

"It's ageless furniture, and beautifully made to be loved. Everyone must surely love it."

"No they don't." said Alice, lapsing into a short, dry coughing fit. "People either seem to not like it or they wonder how much the various pieces will fetch."

"That's terrible," Carra said indignantly."

"Would you care for a piece or two my dear when I've gone?"

"I would love to say yes, but we've only just met."

"Oh well, that's something for me to dwell on," Alice said. "It's really lovely having you two here with me this afternoon. My time is near, I feel."

"Don't be soft, Alice," Dio chided. "You have our wedding to think about. I shall be making special arrangements to get you there and to be suitably accommodated."

"That's nice, dear. Now Carra, tell me about this fiery mother of yours. After initial misgivings, Dio seemed to have really taken to her."

The next day Carra took her mother to meet Alice.

Remembering Carra's visit and the pleasure it gave him, Dio walked up to the door and read a note taped to the side window.

Miss Alice McGrath died in hospital early this morning. Details of the funeral will be in tomorrow's (Thursday) newspaper.

Fighting back tears Dio saw that the notice was signed by T. T. Taylor, solicitor. 

* * *

Dio and Carra attended the late-afternoon funeral, expecting a small gathering, but some three hundred people overflowed the large church for the service. During one of the eulogies coming to them outside the church through loudspeakers, he learned that Jonathon McGrath had a brilliant legal mind but left law to take up farming and did so with dedication and success. His daughter had been a top-ranking tennis player and also graduated LLB, although never practicing law. She and her father both held a pilot's licenses and jointly owned three aircraft over the years, often flying throughout the South Pacific.

"Well, well," Dio whispered. "One lives and learns." 

Carra gently wiped away a rogue tear from his cheek.

At the post-funeral gathering in Woodham's Reception Rooms – a cocktail party masquerading as 'afternoon tea – the elderly solicitor Tom Taylor came up to Dio and Carra and introduced himself. Carra was pleased to be greeted with old-fashion courtesy, Dio was wondering what the old bloke wanted.

When the formalities were completed Tom checked that nobody was approaching them, cleared his voice and said: "I am delighted to inform you that you are jointly beneficiaries in Alice's estate. I invite you to be in attendance at my office for the reading of the will at 10:30 on Friday. Is that time convenient?"

Carra looked at Dio who shrugged. "Thank you, Mr Taylor. We shall be with you on that date," she said.

As Alice had no immediate family, only very distance relatives, it was not expected many people would be in Mr Taylor's office and they were correct in that assumption. But it was an occasion for Dio to meet his fellow trustees. The chairman of the trust was the chief executive officer of the District Council, Ralph Thwaite, who Carra had met, several times, bank manager Chris Toohill and the trust secretary-trustee was Tom Taylor.

The will, revised and dated only the day before Alice's death, left $7,436,700 to be invested in and administered by the Jonathon McGrath Community Trust. 

Instead of receiving 'a piece or two of furniture' as Alice had hinted, Dio and Carra listen to Mr Taylor declare that Alice Kathryn McGrath bequeathed her entire property and contents at 12 Hedge Lane together with a contents restoration fund of $50,000 to Dio Wellington. In the codicil, Mr Taylor read some of Alice's final words: 

Although I have but known Dio and the lovely Carra for a very short time, their freshness and vitality assisted me through my pain to look back upon my own youth. In time they will be able to afford a home and quality furniture of their own but I wish to give them that opportunity now. I deeply regret that I'll not be around to see you dressed for your wedding, Carra. You have been a lovely companion to me Dio and I shall tell your mother all about you and your bride to be.

After pouring whiskies for everyone, Tom arranged a mutually suitable date for the first meeting of the trust. He then came over to Carra and Dio.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 04



"A house deeply in need of expensive restoration and crowded with mostly rather crappy furniture, but I guess if you flick it on quickly and walk away with the fifty grand you will be doing very nicely."

When he left, Carra downed her whisky in a gulp, coughed and said: "What a nasty thing to say."

"In my job I've struggled to work out people," Dio said. "I'm thinking perhaps it's best to take them just as you find them and hope sometimes to be surprised. Tom Taylor is rather a disappointment to us but Alice wasn't, was she?"

"No, indeed, but you're not talking about material things are you?"

"No, you're got that right. I admired her spirit and her courage. I'm hoping that she has bequeathed me something of her spirit and courage. Tom's holding some keys for us. I'll get them and we'll go to the house, get something from the liquor cabinet and toast Alice. Okay?"

"Yes, I'd like to do that."

The day after the funeral Dio and Carra entered the small but rather expensive looking office suite of Battersby & Associates, business consultants – the objective being to allow Carra to benefit from an independent assessment of the franchising proposal. Dio wanted to make sure she was well informed before she committed to it.

Part of Philip's proposal was to form a company, with Dio and Carra being majority shareholders with Ronnie their accountant holding one share.

To Dio's surprise, Philip Battersby was much higher qualified that he expected. He hadn't bothered to read Philip's business card. He heard Philip tell Carra that as well as qualifications in communications and financial management, he'd gone on to complete a MBA. He followed that by spending four years working in international finance in London before returning with his homesick wife to her hometown.

A photograph of Philip and his wife in Regent Street, London, hung behind his desk. It established that Ella Battersby was a pleasant looking woman. She was a school teacher, Phil had said, looking very intently at his departing personal assistant. 

That gaze made Dio suspect that she'd been the person that Philip had been weekending with at home and unsuccessfully 'ripping' downloaded adult videos with while his wife had been away at a conference.

Within thirty minutes Philip had Carra's mind at ease and he then went off to get his associate, Felix Van Oosterom, who'd followed Philip from London to join him in partnership.

"My word Philip's a smoothie," Carra said. "And did you notice the way he watched that woman as she was leaving the room? I suspect something's going on there."

"Yes to both questions, dear one. You won't be like that, will you?"

While Carra had her mouth open to retort, Dio said smoothly: "Don't get distracted with the accent and apparent arrogance of Felix. I met him briefly just recently at the bar when drinking with Ronnie. He joined us and we got along well. He's South African, and was a miner and boxer in his younger days before losing his right eye in a car crash. He won compensation and used that money to complete an accountancy degree and then went to the UK looking for work; a company schooled him in new business planning and guess what he specialized in?"

"Sports or medical accident compensation-related businesses; how would I know?"

"No bad, but no. He became hooked on franchising."

"Oh, we shall be in good hands, then?"

"One would think so. I must ask Cal is he knows about these guys."

"If he doesn't, he'll enquire at Rotary or one of his other clubs."

Just as Carra finished saying that she looked with widening eyes at the man following Philip into the room. Philip was similar in statue to Dio, a lean six-footer-plus. In comparison, Felix was enormous, virtually having to duck to pass through the door. He was thick through as well. Carra wondered if his chair would be capable of supporting him – it did, but protested audibly.

During the introductions Carra put out her hand bravely, momentarily closing her eyes but Felix's grip was gentle. She looked surprised, straight into his bemused gaze.

"Nice to meet you, Felix," she said, managing to block a quaver from her voice.

"Likewise, ma'am. Some how I guessed that Dio would not be teaming up with a run-of-the-mill lady."

Good gracious, how posh. Nobody had ever called her ma'am before, thought Carra, but judged his subsequent comment to be a little too familiar at a first meeting.

"I'm sorry, you were saying...?" she asked, realizing Felix had said something and the other two men were looking at her.

"Kindly sit over there with the gentlemen as you shall get a better view of the screen."

"Of course."

She sat close to Dio, who was grinning.

"You look small standing beside him," he whispered. "He's a fuckin' mountain."

"Watch you language," ma'am censured.

Many of the points Philip had outlined were expanded by Felix, who projected on-screen a mix of bullet points and diagrams.

First up came a map of the country titled, Mr Computer Cleaner (MCC) Land. Then subsequent maps showed the country broken down into smaller and smaller units until it came to their hometown region. This slide was titled, Founding Territory of MCC. 

The town and hinterland were divided into three zones.

"I calculate on information supplied by Dio that this area with the right promotion will support three viable franchises," Felix said. "Using Government Census data, we know that the population of the city three years ago was 32,788 people and another 29,050 in the hinterland in farms, country towns and villages. So, give or take a thousand people, each of the franchise areas shown here contains a little over 20,500 people plus increases of population of the past three years of up to 4 per cent."

Felix then showed another slide of the same area divided into two. 

"Should estimates of calls for service not reach expectation, then we have this Plan B of the area, dropping one of the franchisees through a buy-out. However, if the business promotion person – which I understand will be you, Carra – unleashes and sustains an appropriate marketing campaign, we may be looking at four operators in this area eventually."

"Good thinking," said Carra. "You've got the situation covered both ways."

"Thank you," said Felix. "I wonder if Dio or Philip has briefed you about our latest suggestion for immediate business development?"

"Ah, not yet," said Dio. "Philip and Felix reckon we should leave the operational name of the business as Mr Computer Cleaner but also offer small hardware repairs and upgrades. Philip reckons many people – particularly older people have no desire to lug computers into repair shops – and having house calls saves them the hassle of traipsing off to town with their computer and then trying to find parking outside the repair shop and then repeating that process when collecting their computer."

"Again, good thinking," said Carra. "I like this approach of conceptualizing a business model from the user's point of view rather than conforming to the single-minded vision of the business proprietor, although in this case I must say he's been very consumer-oriented up to this point."

"Saved at the bell," Dio joked. They all laughed.

"We've come up with the slogan, 'It's Cleaner with Mr Computer Cleaner'," smiled Felix. "What do you think, Carra?"

So, it's Carra already? she thought. I would have enjoyed being ma'am just a little longer. "That's brilliant, quite brilliant. I can see great minds have been at work." She noted that both Philip and Felix had looked at her when she said that, and were still looking at her. What were they wanting – more praise?" 

Oh goodness, she thought, they're expecting professional input from me as person in charge of business development. "We should incorporate that slogan at the bottom of all business cards, on vehicle signage and letterheads. The meaning of it should be repeatedly promoted to elicit public understanding of what we're about."

The two consultants nodded approvingly, and looked at Dio.

"I agree," Dio said wisely.

"Right," said Philip. "Let's move on."

Just at that instant the PA knocked and brought in coffee and biscuit. As she leaned over the desk her right haunch strained against her short leather skirt.

Carra looked at the three men. Dio and Felix had their eyes on Philip and were obviously amused. Philip had his eyes riveted on the skirt, the tip of his tongue brushing along his top lip. He looked enchanted. Men! she thought.

The partners took them to lunch; the three men stand aside to allow Carra to slip into the semi-round booth first. As soon as she was seated, Carra motioned to one of the men to sit on her left, another on her right, leaving the third to sit where he chose. She immediately opened her compact, checked her face and hair and applied lipstick – a totally queenly performance.

"Dio told me on the phone that you guys have been given the farmhouse property," Philip said to Carra. "What a great gift!"

"Yes, it certainly bowled us over, but it's Dio's property not mine." Carra said. 

"Well, I have two recommendations," said Philip. "One, which is a professional recommendation, is that you either buy or build in the central commercial premises that can be expanded to become regional headquarters of the business and perhaps even the national office, though by that time you may have done the intelligent thing and sold out for big money, allowing some other company to take over the massive development work. You could, of course, remain the master franchiser of this whole region.

"The second thought is a part business and part personal recommendation: that you live on-site until the business is large enough to place into the hands of a general manager. That would allow you to sell the farmhouse if you so choose. If you did so that I'd put my hand up as a purchaser of the farmhouse and as much of the quality furniture you wish to leave behind."

"Why would you be interested in the farmhouse?" asked Carra, not bothering to conceal her surprise. Philip's suggestion interested her greatly.

"I visited the home a couple of times. Alice's lawyer and I worked with her on setting up the trust. I liked the feel of the place and I know that my wife Ella would be infatuated with it as it's very much like her parent's farmhouse on the other side of town where she grew up. Unfortunately that homestead, which she loves, will go to her older brother when he takes over the family farm. Our house is quite posh, but only has three bedrooms. It's in Ella's mind to breed a small tribe."

Carra laughed. "Your Ella sounds quite a character." 

"Usually she is, but at present her interests are fixed on two things – problem-solving at work and becoming pregnant. She has just achieved the latter."

"Oh, congratulations, Philip," said Carra, squeezing his arm. "How lovely for you,"

"Well done," said Dio, leaning over Carra to shake Philip's hand.

Felix, sitting beside Philip, leaned back to get a better angle and growled "Well done, stickman" and gave him a bone jarring thump on the back that caused Carra to blurt, "Ouch!"

Dio looked at her. So, she was interested in selling. 

When sitting in house the previous evening 'with Alice' drinking various liquors, they had talked about what to do with the house. She'd said, "This place isn't what I had in mind for us." He'd had been non-committal, perhaps just in case Alice was listening. 

He said, "Well, we can think about it."

Carra had nodded and reaching into the well-stocked cabinet pulled out a bottle of something she triumphantly called Sambuca. She poked around in the cabinet again and found a bottle of Tequila and Coffee Liqueur.

"Loosen your belt," she grinned. "I'm going to make something to rev up your motor. My grandmother in Santa Fe came across this drink when visiting Sweden and ever since drinks nothing else apart from wine."

"What's it called?"

"Be patient. I'll mix a jug of the concoction. You get out two small sherry glasses, she won't have shot glasses."

"Oh, then what are these?" Dio asked, holding up two shot glasses.

"My, our benefactor really was an interesting lady. Incidentally, why did she call for a visit by Mr Computer Cleaner? Is there something I should know?"

"Client confidentially," Dio replied, with Carra gritting her teeth and saying, "Just you wait – you're not going to get away with that. Wait until I fill you with Raging Bull cocktails."

They were sipping their cocktails in silence when they were aware of a change in the room – afterwards when they discussed it Dio likened it to a change in air pressure with a something of a hint that someone was there. At the time, with Carra quite frightened, he described it as 'a presence'. 

"I think it is Alice," he'd said quite calmly, and although Carra continued to clutch him she appeared to relax a little.

Dio called out, but there was no response and no change until after about three minutes they realized they could not longer feel 'it'.

Carra wanted to leave immediately but Dio persuaded her to stay, saying it had been Alice's home and she was welcome to visit.

"Yes, yes of course," Carra said weakly.

So, in that reaction to Philip's rather undiplomatic comment about being interest if the house was for sale, obviously it had moved Carra moved a step closer to thinking about a sale if that was what he wanted, Dio thought. She was bound to push and would ask, "What do you think about selling the property?" 

So, what did he think about it? Dio was interrupted in these musings by Carra shaking his arm and saying, "The waitress wants your answer – what do you want to drink?"

"A Raging Bull, please."

She smiled at him and also ordered a Raging Bull. Their consultants ordered beers.

"My Janet drinks bitter beer," Felix commented and that produced a conversation about the exploit of beer-guzzling women.

The red Holden left the parking lot and heading to the new mall, where Carra was to meet her mother to look at something called going away clothes. Dio wondered where Carmen was going, but didn't bother to ask. 

He was waiting for the question, and didn't have to wait long.

"Selling the farmhouse – what do you think?"

"I've got something ticking over in my mind that involves selling it. Just give me until tonight and I should be ready to give you my thoughts."

"But I'm staying at home tonight, mama made me promised. I could cancel?"

"Nah, just get me an invite to dinner and I'll come early and have a chat with Cal about franchising and our advisers. They will like to know what we plan to do with the farmhouse and I know your mother is just itching to take a gander at it. We could do that after dinner and then I'll go home, leaving you free to listen to your mother plan your wedding for you."

Carra pretended she didn't hear that last comment, choosing instead to check out her eye make-up and to apply fresh lipstick. 

Dio loved her playing around like that. He caught a whiff of perfume and wondered if there was time to call at home for something before Carra was due at the mall.

"We're a bit late but fortunately mama is never on time for anything," she sighed, effectively blockading her finance's detour plan. "I'm feeling a little horny – those two dry martinis I had were really quite strong."

Dio threw the Holden into a u-turn and accelerated towards his mother's house.

They arrived late for dinner so the farmhouse inspection that evening did not proceed. 

Cal didn't know anything about the credibility of the business consultants but would make some discrete enquiries. Dio left as soon as he heard Carmen mention "morning suits for the men".

"What, only one kiss?" Carra cried in dismay, as Dio bolted.

TO BE CONTINUED



Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 05



The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero with the odd name of Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters and soon it becomes apparent that 'Mr Computer Cleaner' is enjoying a life richer in many ways than most people around him. Dio meets twenty year old Carra; the couple gradually break-down the hostility of Carra's parents over the 12-year age difference between Dio and their daughter; the resistance crumbles and the couple become lovers and then celebrate their engagement. Dio is persuaded to syndicate his business to owner-operators and Carra accepts an offer to become an executive director and shareholder. Dio inherits property and $50,000 so the couple start building their potential business empire. Meanwhile Carra's mom, the strong-willed Carmen, has assumed the position of wedding planner.

*

Accountant Ronnie Marks phoned Dio Hamilton at home at 7:30 one morning to confirm all the paperwork and legalities associated with the formation of the franchising enterprise were underway. It had been agreed that Ronnie would hold one share in the franchisor company, with Dio holding eighty-nine and Carra for her $15,000 cash injection would hold ten shares. In return for his one share Ronnie would attend all board meetings without charge and dispense free business advice on company matters to its principals. He would also be company secretary/accountant, remunerated at his normal rate of fees.

"Are you at work, Ronnie?

"Almost; I'm on a bike at the gym."

"And making good use of your time, obviously. Thanks mate."

Dio then phoned five of his former Helpdesk workmates – three had secured jobs and two were still looking. He explained what he had in mind but only two were interested as the others did not have enough security behind them to buy a franchise.

Selby Brown expressed the greatest interest although only having just accepted a new job. Before that conversation had ended, Dio had arranged to call around to Selby's home for two hours each week for three evenings to receive tuition on computer maintenance and installation of new cards, memory, motherboards, drives, and etcetera. 

At 2:15 Dio took Carra, as arranged, for late lunch at Moby Dick's Fish Restaurant in Lake Street. His female friends were firm about the lunch date – they wanted time to talk to Carra leisurely; only Louise had spoken more than a few words to her at the engagement party.

Louise, Celina and Sarisha were already seated when Dio and Carra arrived. Dio sensibly stood back, allowing the women to fluff and flutter. He stood trying to read the number plates of passing vehicles until he heard mother hen – Louise – call him into the hen house. "Dio, don't stand there ignoring us looking out the window with your mouth open like an imbecile." Louise tended to become a little dominant when she was nervous. 

Dio sat at the head of the table and called to the waitress resting behind the bar – "Two bottles of number 12 and five flutes please Dora."

"Bubbles for lunch, how very appropriate," Celina said. Already she'd warmed to Carra, receiving an eyebrow raised response to her question, was Carra was wearing Lou Lou? 

"Yes, everyone seems to love it but scarcely anyone is able to identify it – you must be a Lou Lou girl at well." 

Celina said yes, but only on special nights out.

With ease Carra leveled the playing field – "This is a special occasion for me," not disclosing that her father kept her abundantly supplied with exotic fragrances as they were the only things he knew she really liked, except for sexy underwear which was rather out of his comfort zone for shopping.

As his girls studied the menu, Dio studied the girls. No two were alike.

Sarisha and Carra were the closest alike in body shape, Celina was the tallest with the biggest bust while Louise was the largest-framed woman but her curly blonde hair was a stand-out, and she was a real blonde. He knew that because she was a blonde at junior school.

The pecking order according to sheer presence would be Louise, Celina, Sarisha and lastly Carra, but based on intellectual power it would be Sarisha, Carra, Celina and Louise. It was too close a call to try to award positions on the basis of sheer personality but he tingled with delight when applying the Deserted Island test – with whom would you choose to be stranded on a Deserted Island? Carra, without doubt!

"Dio – wake up. We're sorry we are sending you to sleep but Dora has asked you twice for your order."

"Sorry, Louise. Ah, Dora, how are you today? I'll have the cold prawn salad with three pieces of thick crusted bread thanks and you'd better bring me a bottle of bitter beer as the chili will make the bubbles appears tasteless. Thanks, love."

Although Dio was focused on the conversation, he was effectively bypassed even by sweet Carra. Actually she had little choice as the questions came streaming at her.

No, she didn't think that Dio was a little uncouth (Louise)...nor a rather lazy prick (Louise)...or drove his utility too fast (Celina)...and yes he had rather good manners for a man (Sarisha).

"What do you think of him?" Sarisha asked.

The clatter in the kitchen and the dull roar of passing motor traffic seemed to suddenly fade away. Even Dora behind the bar was waiting for the reply. Dio guessed the pounding he could hear was his own blood pressure.

"Is this a lynching luncheon or what?" Carra replied with a grin.

"You have everything including a sense of humor," Celina said, wiping her eyes. To his surprise, Dio learned something. "I'm a daddy's girl and he's a mummy's boy, still even though Mrs Wellington is now gone. So we jell well because of that. For a man, he'd surprisingly humble and considerate."

Dio felt blood rushing to his face. He should have escaped to the toilet as soon Sarisha unleashed her embarrassing question. He saw the three other women – aged thirty-two or thirty-three – listening to the twenty year old, focusing on her intently. "He tries to perfect a good bloke image but dig a little and one uncovers a complex character who is rather intelligent and who is kind to animals and old people."

"And?" 

"Oh Louise," Carra said, brushing back both sides of her hair with her slender, very white and long fingers. You don't want me to go down that path, do you?"

The other three women nodded vigorously, and Dio looked furtively at the door to the toilets only to see a cleaning lady enter them with a bucket and mop.

"Well, my mama hardly likes any men, but she's beginning to take a real liking to Dio. I tell you this because she's got the best ability to assess character of anyone I know. He's so tender with me..."

"Oh, Gawd, excuse me please," Dio said, dashing out to the street.

A couple of minutes later Louise came out, kissed him and lead him back inside, saying, "What a lovely young woman Carra is, isn't she?"

Dio nodded dumbly.

They reached the table and he pulled out his wallet.

"It's all taken care of, Dio," Celina said. "We women have split the bill. I think Louise has something to say."

"Welcome to Dio's mob, Carra. This is you invitation to join a select little group. I've seen you around town many times and always thought what a very attractive girl you are. Now I know you really are quite something and believe the others think the same."

Carra took Dio by the hand and said she accepted the women's offer of friendship.

There were kisses all around and finally Dio said, "Thanks for perhaps the most harrowing lunch break I've ever had. But you're a great bunch. I love you for being so kind to Carra."

Later Dio went to his first intensive evening training course on computer technology, with emphasis on advancing in hardware installations, fault-finding and configuring software.

Selby had trained as a computer technician before tossing that early career aside to sit all day in a swivel chair in front of a TV monitor in a beautifully air-conditioned room, talking into a headset to advise very worried and often very frustrated people at computers how to extricate themselves from the problems they found themselves in.

The genial technician was only of moderate height but had a deep laugh of a man half as tall again, and a lively personality to match. At the first tutorial he pushed Dio to the limits to find how much he really knew about hardware maintenance – and was surprised, as was Dio himself, at the extent of Dio knowledge. So at the end of that session it was decided to start from the bottom up Dio wrote out a check for $2500 for Selby to buy an array of computer components. The tutorial would require Dio to build an 'all bells and whistles' personal computer, starting with the an aluminum (not steel) box loaded only with the fans, 400w power supply and switches including a turbo button, four 5.25 drive bays and two 3.5 bays plus two front USB ports.

"What you won't know after this exercise will be very little, apart from programming," Selby said.

"Yeah, I can see that. I will welcome you at my side when it comes to things like configuring the bios – I have always been into that a bit, tweaking, without really understanding it. This do-it-from-the-ground-up idea is sweet. You know, if you take up a franchise through me you may also wish to subcontract to the company to assess the knowledge of new franchise applicants and train them where necessary. They would have to pay for training, so I'd take 15 per cent cut for administration and overheads, and you would take the rest of the agreed fee. What do you reckon?"

"Sounds sweet to me. Ah, here's Pru bringing us another couple of tinnies; isn't she a darling?"

Dio's reply froze in his throat momentarily as Pru leaned over right in front of him to put down the tray.

"There's a charge for inspections lasting more than two seconds," big-bust Pru said to Dio, smiling at him sweetly. 

By the time Mr Computer Cleaner Ltd became a legal entity, its registered office being the offices of Dio's accountant, Dio was – in Selby's opinion – more competent than the average experienced computer technician holding software and hardware qualifications.

"You're a successful graduate from the unregistered Selby Brown Computer Technician Training Academy," Selby told him, when the assembled computer passed all the bench tests.

"Actually this baby is so good I should offer to buy it myself."

"It's yours," Dio said. "A personal gift for the patience you have shown and I suspect I shall require your goodwill in the times ahead – and of course providing such a pretty barmaid."

"Yeah, I've noticed she seems to be showing more of herself each time she brings the beers. Just as well this is the final session. Thanks mate – that is a very generous gift. You won't regret it and perhaps I will be helping you to run the business one day."

"Why not?" said Dio thoughtfully. 

They laughed and clicked cans.

The next day Selby signed his franchise agreement with Mr Computer Cleaner Ltd and handed his check to company secretary, Ronnie Marks. 

A week later Ronnie handed across the keys to the new van that Selby had purchased as part of his business investment. The van had been repainted in the company livery, yellow with the red and black Mr Computer Cleaner prominently displayed on it. The personalized number plate was MCC-1.

That evening Dio and Carra took Pru and Selby out to dinner and they jelled well as a foursome.

Driving home afterwards, Carra said that Pru who worked for a building firm handling all of its accounts receivable and accounts payable system as well as reconciliations. She was bored with her job and felt that she was not fully appreciated. 

"I can understand that," Carra said. "Builders tend to be problem-solvers rather than team leaders."

"Yeah, but why are you telling me this?"

"Well, I think that it's an extraordinary coincidence. I told Pru to hold on for another six months or so as I might be able to make her an offer that she can't refuse."

"Like what?"

"Our accounts person, with the title of office manager."

"Oh yeah, that's a possibility. Good thinking."

Two days later the second franchise for the district was signed up, with Art Lobb, one of Dio's former Helpdesk mates. Art didn't have the money for the purchase but his father came up trumps.

"It's going to be great getting back into work," Art croaked, almost crying, with his wife at his side. "As you can see Eve is expecting – there wasn't much else to do after I was laid off."

The following day Dio was out on River Boundary Road, looking at a large expanse of low-lying riverside land, dominated by a large but not particularly high hillock that one of his clients had told him about. There was an old subdivision scheme for the area and 'the knoll' was the best building site in the subdivision, certainly the most expensive. However, most of the promotional flags had been blown away, and paint on the signboards of each section had faded, some signs even lying on the ground where they had parted company with their stakes after several years of weathering.

Dio eyed the knoll with great interest. His phone when and some female with a tight voice as if she was not breathing loosely said, "Hi, where are you?"

"Near the end of River Boundary Road looking at land."

"But that's worthless land; it's The Overflow."

Dio had no idea who was speaking so asked, "Who's speaking."

"Who would you like to be speaking?"

"I'm sorry; I'm not into playing games with strangers; goodbye."

"Dio, it's Pru!"

Dio aborted the move to terminate the call. "Hi Pru, why the fun and games?"

"I was a bit shy calling you; I want to talk to you."

"If it suits come now, almost to the river reserve on River Boundary Road before the unformed section of the road turns and heads upriver."

"I know, where we used to run in the holidays when at high school."

"That's it but don't come without Selby's approval and if he doesn't approve bring him. Also bring coffee."

Pru laughed, a little nervously he thought. "See you in ten minutes."

While waiting, Dio continued to look along the area where many years ago he'd toiled to build up stamina and technique to become a very successful cross-country runner. It had long been regarded as wasteland, and although these days its value would have lifted as it was considered environmental desirable to own riverside property. However, in this instance the overflow during infrequent periods of severe flooding had prevented building from proceeding.

This reminded of the time he'd first met Pru. She'd come into the district as a second-year high school student; he also was into his second year. She already was a great runner, skinny, with legs like sticks but no other girl at her school could beat her in any distance over 800 yards. So the girls' coach negotiated for Pru to join the boys'  long distance coaching after school on two evenings a week. When she first turned up she met derision but Dio jumped in and sorted out a couple of the worst jerks and Pru was more or less accepted, especially once she began running and pushing some of the loud mouth guys. She stuck around Dio which embarrassed him because Louise considered herself Dio's girlfriend and Sarisha was always around posing a threat to Louise although basically the feathers rarely flew. When Louise heard about Pru teaming up with Dio she just laughed, to Dio's relief, and said he wouldn't be interested because Pru was skinny with buck teeth and a flat chest which was true.

Pru went away to university where she and Selby apparently had something going for a while and then it was over until two years ago when she returned to the city to marry Selby.

Dio looked and felt he could virtually draw the route where they used to run, sometimes as many as twenty of them. Five years ago the land-owner, learning that the District Council had authorized its officers to prepare plans for a multi-million flood protection scheme, had commissioned his own consultants to proceed with a subdivision, plans for which were conditionally approved by the Council with a rider – that no sale of land shall proceed until the subdivision was fully protected from 'overflow' flooding. 

To the dismay of the developer, cost-cutting resulted in the Council flood protection works being mothballed, so the so-called hyped up prime subdivision land reverted to its status of wasteland. Although the original fencing had gone with the development of the subdivision Dio saw that electric fencing had subsequently been erected and beef cattle were grazing there. One of Dio's recent clients, Earl Smeaton, had mentioned that it was a shame that the Council had such a stifling effect on development, as he had wanted to split his block in two but had been denied permission because of storm water runoff problems. Dio had expressed sympathy but the former farmer said others were worse off.

"Take Ben Kidd as an example," he'd said. "With a 40-section subdivision down on the flats, he's had that dream turn into a nightmare because of Council inaction has left the area a wasteland."

"I know the area well," Dio said. "As a youngster I used to run there, night after night, month after month to condition myself into long distance running. I remember seeing Mr Kidd there fixing fences or shifting stock – he drove a battered blue A30 if I remember correctly."

"Aye, that would be Ben. You know, there's a section down there that never floods, because it contains a hillock that's always well above peak flood level. But who'd want to live in a home surrounded by floodwater every five years or so and not be able to get in or out?"

Dio thought about that and decided he could cope with being marooned for a couple of days providing the home escaped the flooding. "If it were on the upriver end I would get the access road built up high enough to allow vehicle access, even if it meant driving slowly through a bit of water."

"Cripes, good thinking," Earl said. "If I had the money I'd buy that site and do that; it's the second site in from the upriver end, if I remember correctly. Go and have a look and if it suits try to do a one-off deal with the Council – off indemnity to them against any flooding or approval claims."

A small blue car came up behind him, headlights flashing; the only occupant was a woman. She climbed in beside him, looking excited and awash with perfume; her clothes were skimpy.

Oh fuck, she's not here to do much talking, Dio decided.

"Did you say to Selby you were coming here?"

"No, I told him I was going to the library and then to the supermarket."

"Why did you tell him that?"

She blushed and said it might embarrass him if she told the truth.

"Try me."

"To reward you for turning Selby's life around; until you came along with your business proposal he'd been thinking he was stuck in a hole, making good money but without any prospects. He'd left two jobs dissatisfied because neither offered technical challenge and his latest employment was turning into the pits. Now being with you he has the opportunity to earn big money by building up his own franchise business and making more on the side by training new recruits for your company. I have seen you looking at me – even licking your lips once when looking down my dress bug-eyed. I thought I should let you see what else I have. I'm not a slut Dio; I am just one happy woman who's heading into a better life and I want to thank you for it. I left my job today to become Selby's administration officer."

"Look Pru, I don't want to do the dirty on Selby; he's a great guy and once the company is into regional franchising my thinking is he will be a key player – national technical officer and training manager at the very least. If he found out I'd been dicking his wife it could be the end of a great friendship and perhaps he'd leave the company."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 05



"But he plays around; I've smelt other women on him when he's come home from a poker night with his friends," Pru said, attempting to keep her smile going and handing Dio his coffee.

"That may well be, but men who become a bit sneaky don't necessarily accept that gives their partner to right to seek a bit on the side."

"Well just let me strip for you."

"Why?"

"You shagged me a few nights after high school graduation – remember?"

Dio colored and said he remembered it well.

"I was in the process of gained some real curves then but only just and rowing and gym work under a qualified trainer at university gave me the figure I wanted and I'm sure a big jump in playing around increased the size of my hips and bust; I now feel I have a very attractive body shape."

"I don't believe you," Dio said.

Pru flushed and asked was that an invitation to strip.

Dio grinned and said, "Please yourself but I'm not going to fuck you and I don't want you touching me – with all that perfume on you Carra won't need to ask me how did I spend my day if I go home smelling of you."

She smiled and put her carry bag on the floor and leaned against her door after unzipping the back of her top. She pulled that off to display a beautiful lacy light blue bra that was very well-filled. Pru reach back and unfastened that and out tumbled two mounds with already stiff nipples that would make anyone lick their lips; Dio didn't because it would only encourage her.

Pru undid the side buttons on her skimpy skirt, lifted and dragged that off. Dio had already observed when she lifted she wasn't wearing panties and her cunt was shaven immaculately, confirmed when the skirt came off and she said back and opened her lips to reveal a first-class pinky. She had great thighs and the lace of her light green self supporting stockings made him swallow. She saw that and smiled, her blue eyes fixed on his unwaveringly.

"What now?" she practically purred. 

"It's time for you to dress, go home and be nice to your husband."

"I'm rather steamed up."

"So?"

"You could you finger me into release."

"What, and have Carra smell you – we will be in this vehicle in an hour or so."

"I'll lean over the bonnet of my car; I'll promise not to touch you. Just a three-finger fuck – come on, Dio."

"Pru, I'm sorry but no. You have a lovely lush body and I have greatly admired it. As I said earlier, Dio is a good mate of mine and I won't do anything to end it. You and I will now become close friends because of what's happened here – that is, providing you accept my position. Should I trade a hot little seduction for the price of a friendship of the woman and her husband who's a great guy; I think not."

"You win," Pru sighed, gathering her clothes to start dressing. "Where're my panties."

"You arrived without them," Dio grinned. "They haven't been kept as a souvenir."

"Oh yeah."

"Thanks for the show and being a lady; you have a great pinky."

After she drove off, waving and smiling after driving down a short distance to the turnaround, Dio was left looking at the site and had the money to buy it. The question was did he want it? 

That evening he returned with Carra to look at it as the site of their ultimate home, greatly relieved he'd not misbehaved at the same parking spot earlier that afternoon.

"Yes, I would love it here," Carra said, "You should think about selling Alice's property and secure this site. I looked up the history of this land and it was part of her father's farm at the height of his holdings.

"That's really interesting – that has made up my mind. We'll sell and live here eventually but in the meantime live on our work site, as recommended."

"That's my thinking."

They sat in their vehicle, looking down on to the hillock. It was almost nightfall and birds flying in to roost in the river bank trees were greeted shrilly by earlier arrivals. The rippling grass, slow-moving grazing cattle and the openness would be gone once the area was developed, but the dancing leaves of trees on the riverbank reserve, and the multi-hues of the gently flowing river would remain, as would the views of the distant hills, etching the horizon like the cutting blade of a bushman's saw. 

Thank you Alice, Dio thought; he wondered if Carra was thinking the same thing. 

The next evening the Flemings arrived for early dinner. It was the first time they had visited Dio's home that they knew to call 'Dio's mother's home' if they wished – out of respect to Dio's feelings. Carmen liked that quirky name and had already begun using it. Cal thought it was a silly tag and decided he would avoid saying it whatever the cost.

Carmen was taken on a tour – a brief tour because it was a small house – and she was delighted to find it clean and very tidy. She noticed their wedding photo from Carra's bedroom in their home was now beside the bed here.

After cocktails they remained out on the back terrace where Carra served a pork lion roast prepared and cooked by Dio. Carmen heaped praise on the chef, and although Cal just grunted, he was first to offer his plate when the call for seconds came. Carra's desert was left until later, as everyone agreed they should inspect the farmhouse before dusk.

Carmen and Cal really admired the furniture, but not the dwelling.

"It's seen its best days, I'm glad you're not going to live here, Carmen said to Carra quietly. "Anyway, you'd like a modern home."

As the men went to inspect the outbuildings, the two women sat in the living room, with Carr finding a lovely nutty sherry in the liquor cabinet.

"This room is nice – it's good character and a good feeling to it," said Carmen.

"I'm glad you should say that," said Carra. 

"I've contacted a young draughtsman I know at the Council to take photographs and measurements of this room."

"Whatever for?"

"When we build I may wish to replicate this room in memory of our benefactor. Alice may wish to visit us occasionally."

Carmen's eyes widened. "Don't talk like that; you scare me."

"Fine, I won't mention it again. Please forget I said it."

"I will; I will! Now, what's this, about when you build? You haven't said anything about this?"

"I know; we shall take you somewhere after this and all shall be revealed."

Dio and Cal came back in chatting happily. "The two sheds are crammed with stuff, and not all of it is junk," said Dio, covered in dust. "Would you like to drive a cute little MG of late 1970s vintage darling?"

"If it's cute, yes; I do need a car."

"Well, we dug under things and located that. Cal thinks it can't have been put into storage too long ago as there still air in the tires. But, listen to this. Beside it is a 1950s MG TD 11 competition version. Cal says it needs major restoration, but it appears to have been placed there when still in working order as everything is there. He thinks if we market its availability in the right places we should get a great offer for it. On the other hand, I may keep it as our Sunday car."

The women expressed excitement.

"Beautiful young women in stylish clothes look absolutely wonderful in old-fashion sports cars," said Carmen.

"Real men will be looking at the car," quipped Cal, earning himself a pitiful look from both women.

"I'm taking Dio to look at commercial real estate tomorrow," Cal said. His tone indicated that this was a scouting trip best handled by men, and neither woman pressed to be included.

After dinner they went in Cal's four-wheel drive wagon to the waste lands. Dio opened an access gap built into the electric fence and once back into the vehicle asked Cal to drive up the hillock.

"Are you looking for a building site across the river?" he asked. "It floods here, doesn't it?"

"The view of the river is wonderful from here," enthused Carmen. "This would be a wonderful site for a home as it can't be built out, being on this bend in the river."

"We would like to build right where we are now," said Carra. "Tomorrow I begin the push to get consent."

"Here, on flood land?" shrilled Carmen, beginning to change her tune.

"Leave it Carmen," Cal urged. "Neither of them is stupid."

"Quite right, daddy. Our intention is to eliminate all risks but to act courageously," Carra said. 

"The chairman of the trust than Dio serves on is the CEO of the Council, and the secretary is a lawyer who specializes in land and building applications hearings before councils and other authorities and appealing decisions in court. These people should be able to assist with advice. I phoned a surveyor late this afternoon and he is very familiar with the area and says the hillock has never been under water and could never be as according to its recorded height on the plan on his wall that he was looking at as we spoke. He said is several meters higher that the highway at the far end of the overflow. If land beyond that were ever to become a secondary overflow, thousands of square miles of low lying plains would absorb the flooding. The highway is in fact built on a stop bank system created way back in the 1930s. How very convenient for us!"

"You'll need collaborating evidence to support your contentions and plea for an exception when you made your application."

"Yes, daddy; as soon as we can establish we have an arguable case, we will have the hillock height checked and what level we would have to build up the seventy yards of access road. Council and newspaper archives will be full of photographs taken over more than 100 years of flooding of the wasteland because it comes so close to the town centre. I shall begin looking for peak level flooding pictures showing the hillock during the worse floods of the more recent decades – 1936, 1954, 1987 and 2003."

"But darling, is it worth it," cooed Carmen. "Think of the expense and worry."

"Good things often don't come easy, or cheaply," Dio said. "The only building sites in town superior to this one are on that strip known as Nob's Hill that look down to the town bridge and wharf and across the river to the botanical gardens and the racecourse. The approach of your smart daughter and me and to look beyond the hard yards and the big expenditure to the finished result – achieving our vision."

"You'd be right there, son," Cal said, stretching, yawning and thinking about that apple pie waiting for him back at 'the house'. "This little knob is great."

* * *

With three Mr Computer Cleaners on call, the advertisements in the newspaper had resumed and radio advertising commenced. The spare bedroom at Dio's mother's home had been converted into a communications centre. 

The computerized response gave details of the service offered by Mr Computer Cleaner and notified that the call-out fee was eighty dollars an hour and eighty dollars each subsequent hour. Callers were asked to leave their name, address, telephone number and brief description of the problem.

Carra monitored the incoming calls for the first day on headset, recording where any callers had difficulty with the auto-response calling system and soon it appeared there were many, as a large percentage of callers were old people.

On the second morning of the trial, Dio and the two franchisees listened to some of the recorded incoming calls and Carra's analysis and agreed that a master system was unworkable – that it would be best for each franchisee to employ their own call receiver/accounts person. 

It was also agreed that the master franchiser would sell franchises and receive an eight percent administrative/promotion fee from each operator each six months, based on gross returns from audited accounts.

"Well, best to find out the flaws on our opening days, darling," Carra said, not at all perturbed. "I can find work elsewhere."

"That's kind of you, Carra but there is an alternative. We could launch into a regional operation as soon as we secure headquarters. We could do it here from home but that would not impress franchise applicants. Anyway we would run out of room if we experience a growth spurt. Cal and I spotted some buildings that looked possibly suitable the other day but I think I will look again with a real estate agent dealing in commercial property."

"Do you want to risk everything branching out so soon?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Well, continue your flood research darling, and could you get the farmhouse valued. Then we will go to see Philip if he really wants to pay market price. He'll obviously get his own valuation done."

"Yes, yes! Let's push the button."

"I really should be going back to work."

"Ha, ha," giggled Carra. You and your one track mind, but at least you are subtle.

"Hmm, now that we are here..."

The next day Carra was earning an income again. Her best woman friend Shauna had installed Carra as receptionist, with the current receptionist achieving her heart's desire – being allowed to sweep the floor of the salon and wash hair, the first step of her training under Shauna's guidance as a hairdresser.

It was Shauna's suggestion that Carra accept the position. They'd been chatting together about Carra's activities prior to the wedding when it was revealed that the bride-to-be had time on her hands. Shauna made her generous offer but was surprised that it produced a surge of new clients. Carra's mother and some of her friends and some of Carra's friends were suddenly adding their names in the appointment books.

Entering the real estate agency on the morning of Carra's return to work, Dio waited until the receptionist with long black hair with an unnatural silver streak through the centre of it finished applying a brush stroke to one of her talons.

"Yes?" she inquired, almost with a yawn. As her gaze rose up over the top of the counter her boredom vanished upon discovering that standing in front of her was a very personable male.

"My, how you are this morning, sir?" she simpered.

She needs a toe into the slats from the boss to get her activated, thought Dio. I hope the salesman's a bit more motivated.

"I phoned Mr Gibbons yesterday and he has said Charlie would be my best bet. He didn't give me a surname so can you steer me towards Charlie please."

An amused look appeared on the receptionist's face. She picked up her phone and said to the person answering, "Someone to see you at reception. A top ten."

A brunette aged in her late thirties came from behind a screen midway down the room beyond reception, dressed in a tight leopard-skin dress and incredibly high-heeled white shoes. She was not particularly developed upfront, Dio observed. Her hips appeared to be rather wide – but the legs, oh the legs. She she'd be sensational viewed from the rear.

A smile radiated from well-lacquered light pink lips.

"Hullo, Mr Wellington. It's a pleasure to meet you." She probably had downgraded him to an eight point five –wondering if he's taken in her legs. Charlie held out a long arm and Dio noted a manicurist had been expensively at work. He was perplexed, being under the impression that real estate sales people tended to look like aged retired farmers or dissatisfied school teachers if male, or mums of school-aged children or pre-twenty-year-old harassed females desperately seeking a career. This one looked perfect to be gracing a women's dress boutique.

"I'm Charlotte Gibbons, but everyone calls me Charlie."

Dio shook her hand, judging with just enough pressure to avoid being categorized as having a wimpy grip.

He heard the receptionist behind him sigh heavily. "Nice to meet you Charlie. Gibbons? Are you Mr Gibbon's daughter?"

The receptionist was giggling.

"You're close, actually he's my husband."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I prefer older men although in your case I would make an exception)]. Well, let's see what I've got for you."

The receptionist snorted. 

Two good kicks from Mr Gibbons are required at reception, thought Dio – plus a heap of work. The poor receptionist is bored to her fingernails.

They climbed aboard Charlie's neat little SUV town wagon. She told him she had scheduled him in to view four properties and then each day they would look at four more until they located something to suit. "It takes time looking at properties and finding a suitable one," she counseled. "It is advisable to look at even the most unlikely ones, as sometimes a property will trigger a mind change in a client. Clients think they know what they want, but then so many actually buy something quite different at the end of the day. This never ceases to amaze me."

She opened a folder on to those incredible legs, and her perfume fragrance reminded Dio of something Carra wore. Mr Gibbons was a very lucky man.

"I'll be frank with you Mr Wellington..."

"Dio."

"I'll be frank with you, Dio. I tend to show a client the most unlikely property first and then work up to the fourth, which I consider will be a likely prospect. The earlier viewings put the client in the mood by the time we reach property number four. My husband briefed me your preferred purchase would be a property for an administration centre with living accommodation above it or at least on-site, and parking for at least a dozen vehicles and a workshop. Ian said you were into mobile house calls for people with computer problems."

"Yes, that's what I told him."

"Are you Mr Computer Cleaner?"

"Yes."

"That's fine, Dio. I just wanted to know if I guessed right. Society needs people like you, don't they? Someone has to exorcise filth."

"That is my belief."

"Well, let's push on. The first property is not far from here, just two blocks along."

Dio couldn't believe his eyes when they drove through the stone gates. She was taken him to inspect a bloody derelict school!

An hour later Carra and Dio were drinking coffee at the reception desk of the hairdressing salon. Greatly excited he told Carra: "She can take us to see it just after 5:00; I know there are dozens of properties still to look at, but this unlikely property looking property look perfect every way I look at it. There are more than enough buildings for us already on site – good solid constructed buildings apart from the school hall. We might snare it for a good price as who wants to buy a disused school from a church? Keep an open mind and look to see potential rather than problems."

"Like when you first clapped your eyes on me?"

Dio went to scoff at that report but read her eyes as his mouth opened. He kept silent and simply squeezed the hand of his darling.

Anxious to indicate that he was impressed, Dion took care not to pile it on so thickly that he may influence her from arriving at an independent opinion. All that he was doing was indicating that she wouldn't be wasting her time by going for a look. Well, perhaps he was lighting the fire a bit, but his hunch was screaming – "Take notice of me!" His mother had groomed him to respond positively to his hunches. However, there could be a problem – she who was sitting right beside him giving him the eye.

Carra sat, coffee cup between her palms, gazing at Dio. He deduced she was neither smiling, crying nor exhibiting a dissatisfied look. Was that an expression of pity; Dio wasn't quite sure? He'd never seen her like this, not even when her mother was lording over her causing Dio to launch a rescue attempt. That strategy involved no demands, no accusations – just a big wind up which was one of the few things that Carmen could not handle well.

He considered Carra was pliable: usually she acted just like a beautiful poodle. If he mentioned sex, she'd simply roll over. If he hinted that he was hungry, she retrieved food for him. If he ignored her and read a book, she would stay nearby, and whenever he cast a glance her way she seemed to be looking at him. No one, not ever new lovers, like staying at home all the time, so if he mentioned 'walkies' she was waiting at the door for him, looking at him adoringly.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 05



Christ! thought Dio. I've been treating the love of my life like a dog. Now she's wanting to bark but realizes she is expected to roll over; my poor darling.

"What's wrong?" she replied, startled.

"Back in five." He returned in four minutes. To the amusement of everyone in the salon looking on, he knelt on one knee and handed across a bouquet of spring flowers.

"Oh darling," she almost sobbed in delight. "They're s-o-o beautiful" but then underwent a mood change, "What have you done?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

Dio recoiled almost in horror. It was a painful moment: his sweet little darling had a touch of Carmen's venom in her, but it was gone in a flash when he said nothing; he'd had an urge to display spring to her.

"Oh, come here my good boy. You don't have to buy me flowers; if you want sex you don't even have to ask."

Dio happily heard that but flushed at the thought others nearby may have caught Carra's softy spoken words.

"I'll try never to take you for granted he said," blowing into her ear knowing she just loved him doing that.

"I know," she said, running her index finger lightly down his cheek and starting deeply into his eyes.

"Walkies later?" she suggested. "I finish at three. Pick me up here."

They walked down the bank behind Dio's mother's house into a gully, and followed a well-worn path to a small plantation of pine trees growing on the west-facing and steeper hillside where the gully widened. In Carra's backpack was a flask of coffee and a packet of treble coated dark chocolate biscuits. Both of them liked to pig out occasionally.

Dio pulled her up the steep incline into their favorite little retreat, a self-draining depression shaped like a tilted saucer thickly carpeted in pine needles. They sipped their coffee and munched biscuits in absolute peace, hidden from the walkway. Sunlight filtered through the trees and the wind played unrecognizable tunes in the tree tops.

"I will be positive," said Carra, breaking the dreamlike near silence.

Doubting his first impression that Carra might be thinking about taking over the wedding arrangements from Carmen, he checked it out. "What?"

"The school – I shall be positive when I go to visit it at,"

He loved her for saving that so devoutly, knowing she was doing her best to please him. She was facing away from him on the rug opening the picnic hamper. Unable to resist he shuffled in behind her, reaching for her boobs and resting across her back. She pressed her chest against his hands signaling coffee and biscuits were on hold. He squeezed her tits and she moaned, pulling up her skirt. She cooperated while her panties were pulled off and handed to her. Carra lowered her chest and head to the rug and whispered, "Lick me stupid" and spread her legs.

Dio attacked the curves of her butt with long, raking licks and listened to her contented moans and the chatty birds in the trees above them. They were out of sight of anyone walking by on the path but not out of their hearing. Gradually his tongue arrived at her center and slid slippery down her deep recess until it was circling her asshole. She reached back to pull her cheeks apart wider. He dribbled into that shuttered hole and she worked in a finger as he'd taught her and her little moans thickened as his tongue continued down to the fat lips that looked seductively bloated when viewed from this angle. Dio's dick thought so too as it pressured to be unzipped; he obliged. Carra was lubing so reached fingers in and now, having become rather expert at this, reached through to moisten his shiny but dry straining dick – their preferred word for it. Doggy was also their preferred position when there was time for only a 'one off',

"Ooh," she said, guiding it in. "If feels fatter than usual."

Elated by the compliment Dio built up into a slow, raking rhythm and maintained it until he felt her reached to massage around her clit when he then picked up pace and she pushed back at him, almost ready. She squealed and came; Dio followed no far behind and after when rolling off the condom noticed he'd been rather excited to have unloaded that amount.

"That was lovely," she sighed.

"One of the best – clean up while I pour coffee," Dio said, putting his dick away but not before giving it an affectionate pat. 

They sat smiling and chatting until Carra said: "Oh dear, look at the time; we must fly!"

Driving fast enough over the speed limit to remain relatively inconspicuous to anyone but a bloody-minded policeman on traffic duty, they reached the school ten minutes after the appointed time. Charlie arrived two minutes later.

The two women flew into each other's arms, uttering rapturous welcomes.

"I should have known it was you, as soon as Dion mentioned your legs."

"He mentioned my legs, did he? The sexy little bugger; I'm almost out of his decade."

Dio was startled. No only did this stylish woman know Carra, but Charlie had blown her image by swearing and talking common-like.

"This is Charlotte Broome, darling, or at least she was Broome until her first marriage. She is the most famous of mama's pupils and lived near us and used to baby-sit me. That was until she fell in love with her professional dancing partner and married him after his messy divorce."

So, thought Dio. She's been married before. He'd imagined that real estate agent Gibbons had employed her as a receptionist as a school leaver and being an eligible bachelor had wooed her successfully.

"How many marriages is it now, three?"

"Four," Charlie said with pride. "They tend to die or pay me out; I kindda wear them out."

Good God, thought Dio. I was alone this morning with a femme fatale!

They toured the site and Carra extracted new information from Charlie. Although church-owned, the school had been built and operated as an 'open' private school, to attract parents desiring an alternative to a Government funded and controlled school where their children would receive some religious instruction. 

The system had worked very well for almost sixty years but during the past two decades, with the commercial centre of the town expanding, the school had become increasingly isolated from suburbia, with many parents not keen to have their children coping with commercial traffic. As well, being in a growing commercial area brought the implied threat of having seedy characters hanging around.

All that Dio had found out in the morning was the school had relocated to its new site almost four years ago, Then recently the school board had lost patience with its other real estate firms so now had given it to the Gibbons' agency exclusively to see what it could do.

"The board wants to use the money from the sale to go towards building a gymnasium at the new school." Charlie had told him. Almost fluttering her long eyelashes she'd added, "It could be very suited to you, couldn't it?"

Instead of rejecting that thought, Dio had said they should take a quick look around. He still hadn't been very interest until Charlie commented: "If I had the money I'd buy it myself. So what if clearing all the reinforced concrete buildings would be expensive? The upside is it's in three separate titles."

The urge to shout "What!" rose within Dio, but he kept his mouth shut. No need to indicate any interest, but why hadn't the land being offered for sale in three lots? As if reading his mind Charlie said the church did not want to offer the land in three lots in case only one or perhaps two sold and it was left holding that might take a long time to sell. "There are think big people on the board that think big," she added.

When they were leaving Carra asked if Dio he would be working through the evening catching up on his calls.

"Hah, I've been smart. I've made out a list of the overload, giving half to Selby's Pru to manage and half to Art which also will be handled by Pru as she is now doing Art's administration from today. The guys will do the calls and log them as their own, which is how we're going to work in together. It means our areas will be serviced when we go away on holiday, for a long weekend or even to get married."

"Ah, the wedding. Mama thinks she's close to exhaustion working on all the preparations."

"What preparations? You did most of the work producing the guest lists and the printing is being done. The wedding and breakfast are being fully catered. What else is to be done?"

"You haven't been married many times, have you darling? If you had you'd know all about mothers and daughters and the energy they expend worrying and rowing over wedding preparations. We've already conferred for eight solid hours, I reckon, on seating arrangements and there are still problems; Mama is taking sleeping pills."

"Good gracious, I feel sorry for you and Carmen. Perhaps we should have eloped?"

"Quite, and I've almost tempted to say the word, Yes! However think of the guests – 210 on our side and 31 on yours. Mama is so disappointed we cannot get to the maximum of 250. It's your fault, she says, for not having enough relatives and friends."

"Ah, the venom is flowing."

"Venom, what do you mean?"

"Did I say that? Oh what could I mean? Oh golly, look there's an MG almost like your one. Wayne says yours will be ready to be picked up sometime late next week. You'll need to get you hair done and buy a new gown."

"Whatever for?"

"You heard Carmen say that elegant ladies look so refine in a nice sports car."

"For heavens sake. When I go to pick it up I shall be wearing jeans and an old shirt. Well, you can afford the time so please go down to the surveyor and see what his people have turned up about the hillock. Remember, you have that trust board meeting at 5:00."

"Yeah. I'm pulling over for a moment."

Dio pulled out a business card and entered the number into his phone. With a finger hovering over the YES button he sat as if holding a loaded gun. "I'm ready to put in an offer for the school. Don't want to look at anything else. How do you feel about that?"

Carra looked nervous. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, you're stalling."

"Let's do it."

He grinned, phoned Charlie and told her to prepare an offer and gave the amount to enter. She queried the figure but Dio told her that the church board could take it or leave it. They drove off, with Carra saying the offer was twenty percent below the registered valuation; the board would not accept it.

"They won't but they will indicate they will countersign at ten per cent below, and I shall raise our final offer to valuation less fifteen percent – take it or leave it."

"But they will be thinking of the children at school – it will be a large amount of money the board will not have to reinvest?"

"Ah yes, but think the other way. They cannot say no – in almost four years this is the only sane offer they have received and they know life must move on."

"You sound very confident," Carra said. "Anyway, they are going to have to wait until we sell the farmhouse."

"Nope, while you were yakking to foxy Charlie about her dancing partners she used to shag in the dance studio cloakroom or on your parents' bed when she was baby-sitting you, I was on the phone to Selby who lives near the relocated school. He told me erection of steelwork for the gymnasium began last week. Then I phoned Philip and I'm taking out an interest-only mortgage on mom's house; he even offered me bridging finance at mate's rates. And now, tum-de-dum-boom. Ladies and gentlemen; great news. Philip told me that as both valuations are very close, he and Ella have decided to split the difference and accept, with settlement on the farmhouse in two months from today."

"Oh...oh...my God! shouted Carra, knocking Dio's sunglasses at a crazy angle as she launched herself at him, only to be halted midair by her seatbelt. Oh my smarty-ass; we're on our way!" 

The good news continued to flow. The surveyor was next, calling Carra fifteen minutes later. "We've confirmed the boundaries of the lot you propose buying and confirmed the height of the knoll – it's exactly the height it always has been so obviously the developer's contractors left it untouched. We've got the levels established for your building envelope – that area is higher than the maximum flood level ever recorded, and we've established the levels for the access road to your requirements which won't take much building apart for a distance of fifteen feet reaching now far into your targeted property."

Carra shouted in glee.

The surveyor continued: "Leave this with me. I have one of our keen youngsters doing a topographical profile that councilors can easily understand. They will be looking at a profile between two points showing the downstream highway that acts as a weir during extreme flooding and that peak level which clearly is shown to occur almost twelve feet below your planned house. I would never build there, but then old professional folk like me don't take risks. I went down to look at it out of interest, and it's a fine site. Whoever put this idea into your head deserves a bottle of whisky at the very least."

As they drove back to the real estate agency to sign their joint offer, Carra said: "If we get approval for that site we ought to send that bloke who gave you that idea on holiday to some place – tickets for two.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing. But what I'll do is try to solve his subdivision problem for him – maybe chucking in some bucks to get a storm water extension done. You have friends inside the Council who'll be able to advise how to push for a quick solution if it can be done."

Jack and Doris Youngson, Duckpond Road

Coincidences happen, everyone knows that, but Dio – the one who can get expectations so wrong – was astounded by this one. He was happily back on the road again as a consultant, applying his new skills, with two franchise sales under his belt as company chairman and managing director, and the school board was meeting that very evening. He and Carra had decided who should hold those two positions – Carra arguing that Dio possessed the drive and business technical knowledge and Dio suggesting that she had the bigger and faster-acting brain and had trained as an events organizer and understood business promotion better than he did. She countered by saying that she was not a risk-taker, so after opening another bottle of wine and inventing more grounds for haggling, it was finally decided to toss for a decision. She tossed the coin four times before it coincided with Dio's repeated call of tails, declaring him the winner.

"Something's not quite right here," he said scratching his crown and pretending to be a bone-head. "I don't remember agreeing to four tosses."

"I tossed, so the tosser sets the rules."

"Yeah – a tosser. Right!" cracked Dio, and got scragged for uttering such a gutter insult.

Dio downloaded enough 'filth' from the Youngson's computer to almost full two CDs. They had a CD on their computer but had no idea how to use it other than to play CDs. He was surprised at the porno they had downloaded – all involving couples and at least one of the couples being quite elderly. Looking at some of the graphics Dio had no idea that an elderly couple could go so hard at it – he was surprised to learn that people that old still did it. To be truthful, he was able to recall that some dude in his nineties had startled the women of Western Civilization when it was announced in the media that he's fathered a child and was being sued in a paternity action.

Mr Youngson sat with Dio, telling him which ones to view as being "the best". He did so without any embarrassment and said, "You know Doris and I look at these and are comforted by the thought that we're not the only ones overdue to go into a rest home who are still at it."

Mrs Youngson came in with the money, now eighty dollars minimum. "Thank you, young man. One of our granddaughters wants to borrow the computer so we did not want to shock her and her boyfriend or put any ideas into their heads."

Dio told her all traces had been deleted and they assured him they knew how to reload the files off the CDs once the computer was returned. "You know," Dio said, "if you had your clunky hard drive replaced you could view your images straight off CD."

"How much?" Mr Youngson barked.

Dio check computer info on-screen and then whipped off the back of the box to check the hard drive and motherboard. He gave them a price including time for installation.

"Oh, I don't know," said Mr Youngson, but his wife interjected and said: "Get him to do it. What are we going to do with our money – build a new house?"

Dio reappeared from the Holden with a 7200 rpm disk and Mrs Youngson said lunch would be served on the deck in thirty minutes whether he was ready or not.

"That is very nice of you but really I can't..."

"Thirty minutes, Dion. And don't you men be late."

He installed the replacement disk, and copied everything over to it, then disabled the clunky disk.

"We'll leave it sitting there," he told Mr Youngson. "If anything should happen with the new disk we could reload from the original disk all files up to today's date. But new disks are pretty reliable these days, so a total failure is unlikely."

"Nice view from here," complimented Dio, and the Youngson's looked pleased.

"Say, isn't that Earl Smeaton's place just down there?"

"Yes, people called Smeaton do live there," said Mrs Youngson, peering down into the valley.

"He's a nice old bloke," said Dio. Wants to subdivide his block into two but the council won't approve it."

"Too small, or access problems?" asked Mr Youngson.

"Neither – insufficient capacity in the branch waste water disposal system."

"Balls," said Mr Youngson, causing his wife to click her teeth disapprovingly. "We were on a special rating levy for a number of years to cover improvements to that waste water system. We are no longer levied but the council has never completed the work."


"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. I'm not senile; everything is in working order."

"I can vouch for that," Mrs Youngson sighed. "Of course he's not senile."

Twenty minutes later Dio thanked Mrs Youngson for her wonderful salad and fish pie and thanked Mr Youngson for his help.

"What help did I give you boy?" he asked, looking a little confused.

As soon as he was out on the road, Dio stopped and phoned Carra.

"Hello, lover," Carra greeted him. "Working with a satisfied smile on your face?"

"Definitely, I always do; I love my work. What are you doing in your boring life?"

"Reading at the reception desk – it's a bit slow just now. Last night I've found a pile of your dirty 'Poking Around' magazines and brought one to work to read." In a husky voice she added, "I'd like you to be home when I arrive." 

"They aren't my magazines – they were mom's. She kept them for customers who had a bit of a problem. Sorry – won't be home till after 6:00." He then told her about the suspended work on water reticulation upgrading.

Carra was dismayed that he wasn't coming home early. "I'll get mom to come and take me home. I'll call Richard in waste-water reticulation to get that info you want about the water branch extension past Mr Smeaton's place. Then I shall have a daughter-to-mother chat about a selfish husband who won't come home to help his darling who has a problem."

"I bet Cal would be home in a shot getting a call like that; he admitted to me the other night that he doesn't get enough."

"Enough what?"

"He didn't say, but he nearly broke my ribs with his elbow thrust, giving me the wink, wink nudge treatment."

"You men, you actually talk intimately like that? I thought only women did and men only talked intimately about loose women?"

"So did I, but thanks for revealing more about the innermost secrets of the sisterhood. You really are educating me."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 05



"Dio you come and get me at 3:00!"

"Sorry sweet, gotta go to earn the money that allows you to go shopping. Bye."

"DIO!"

* * *

Carmen drew up outside the salon. Her daughter came out, looking slightly flushed and tense; something was wrong.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

"Yes, mama; nothing what a good man couldn't fix."

"Oh dear, do you think you should be talking to your mother like that?"

"But I talk to you about everything?"

"So you do, my dear. So you do. But this is one problem that I can't help you with."

"Does daddy ever do this to you – leave you by yourself hanging on a cliff-edge?"

"Well, these days you father seems to have lost much of his old drive. I'm forever hinting, but he seems to have his mind on other things."

They'd almost reached the house when Carmen said, "Look, there's Dio's van. He's on a call and is just about home. Jesus, mama; how can he be so callous?"

"All men are callous darling, you will surely learn that. But sweetie, you known mama does not like you to use the Lord's name in that way."

"Sorry mama, but it's such an uplifting expression used in that ways. That's odd, isn't it? You know, saying shit or fuck are not nearly as satisfying as screaming Jesus!"

Carmen almost drove into the back of a parked car. She slowed, to catch her breath; the way that her mother's granddaughter spoke sometimes amazed her. Why was it so? Where had this devil inside her come from? "You almost had me crash into that car with your disgusting talk."

"You are driving, not me mama," Carra said coolly, "Do you wish me to drive?"

"No thank you, we are almost there."

Carmen began laughing. "You are surprising, you know. Not so long ago you were such a very polite 'Yes mamma', 'No mamma', 'As you say, mama' girl but in no time at all with this young man of yours you have changed; you have become a little more outspoken and seem to be walking taller as if you are saying to the world, 'Look at me.' Never before have I seen you like this; you have stepped into womanhood."

"Yes, mama. As you say mama."

They both giggled and eyed each other happily.

As they went inside Carra thought about what he mother had just said. It was true, and she was sure it wasn't only because of all the sex and really being able to love a man so unconditionally. Physiologically, she'd flown the nest but surprisingly although Dio was away from her a great deal, she was less lonely than she'd ever been. It was as if he were always nearby. By that she didn't mean he was in sight or she only had to pick up the phone to talk to him. No longer did she picture herself in a romantic dream with him, and upon wakening having to reassure herself that he'd be coming back home. There was no need to doubt his reappearance; her confidence in that was absolute because she knew he loved her...many times she'd caught that look in his eyes when she found him watching her, and it was not just in his eyes. His whole expression seemed to magnify his fleeting emotion. No way was that particular look mirroring lust, or post-coital fatigue; it was a lover's look, and long may it last.

* * *

Bess Oldham, 16 Rimu St

"You're Nancy's Wellington boy, aren't you? Bess had said when Dio had introduced himself as Dio Welllington. He nodded, wondering whether he'd receive a tick or a cross for admitting to that.

Bess, who appeared to be in her early thirties, said that his father had been responsible for keeping her parents together. He mother, being a rather delicate woman, had not been able to meet her husband's demands but her friend Nancy Wellington had offered to help out, without charge.

Uh, uh, warned Dio's brain. This he did not like to hear.

"Mother insisted that nothing in life was free, that Nancy should make him pay and he would appreciate her services all the more. He had no idea that mother knew Nancy. He went to see Nancy in hospital, you know; I used to take him. Did you know about this?"

"No, but there were quite a number of former clients who visited her," Dio said. "She used to rattle off the names to me with pride."

"Do you recall the name Jack Street?"

"Yes, she'd mentioned it several times, probably more than any of her regulars."

"That was my father; Oldham is my married name. I was Bess Street."

"Then, are you...are we...?"

"It's up to you, Dio. Do you wish to know?"

Dio sat down on the sofa, nodding. This was simply amazing, he had a relative! Either that it or was some sort of con job to try to extort money.

"Dio, you are my half brother. I have documents that prove this. I have only been here for two weeks, as we have lived for many years overseas. First my foster mother died and then dad died three months ago. After the funeral we decided to sell up and come back here as I wanted to return to my birthplace for a while. We are renting this house. It was not until one of my new neighbors told me yesterday that the so-called notorious Nancy Wellington used to live at number 11 and her son lives there now that I realized that you existed. Dad had told me of his visitation to number 11 Rimu St."

She then said that just before he died that she had a half-brother, and the name she said was Dio's full name. The people in the whole world who'd ever quoted his full name could be counted on less than one hand. Dio hated his middle name and it had been 'buried'. This woman just had to be genuine.

Dio leapt to his feet and held out his arms. Bess hesitated and then stepped in against him. They hugged and to her astonishment she heard him cry, "Thanks mom!"

"What made you say that so emphatically?"

"You are my closest living relative."

"My God, then aren't you lucky! Dad has one sister still alive – she's in a rest home in Sydney – but there are heaps of first and second cousins spread throughout Australian, New Zealand, North America and the UK. It must be marvelous knowing you a no longer alone."

"It is, it really is. Will you and your husband..."

"Rod."

"Will you and Rod like to have dinner with us tonight? There is a lady I want you to meet; we also need to talk lots more."

"I've saw her this morning leaving home. She's lovely; is she your wife?"

"Next month she will be."

"Oh, how lovely. And what do I call her?"

"Carra."

"Oh, what a lovely name."

"Look," said Dio. "I have a trust board meeting coming up so must press on for now. Did you have a computer problem or was the call just to lure me here?"

"Both," she said, with a lopsided grin, so cute that Dio wanted to hug her again.

"We'll talk tonight – 7:00 would be fine. Now, what's the computer problem?"

"It's the emails – we keep getting indications that there are two perhaps four new messages and sometimes they appear and sometimes they don't. Then at other times when we try to send emails the machine just doesn't fire up. It's weird."

Dio tried checking for new airmails and it worked each time. He then tried sending three test emails at all three came back.

He showed Bess how to log-on to her Internet Service Provider (IPS) with her user-name and password. She knew her user name but not the password.

"Oh dear," said Dio. Then he looked on top of the monitor and said, "What's this?" She didn't know. He thought it was the missing password, so they logged in successfully.

"Now, just look at this list of messages. Do you see any you don't recognize?"

At the end of the session Bess had found eleven incoming emails they she had not received. Dio forwarded them to her computer, and when they checked all eleven were there.

"It appears to be an intermittent fault; there could also be a virus at work. I'm not sure what it is. So I shall do an online virus check of your hard disk and then install a replacement internal modem and then reinstall your email software – I have it on CD."

Dio beavered away and Bess handed a cup of coffee. 

"Almost finished," he said, glancing at his watch.

He finished and tested everything, satisfied that no obvious virus was at work. He re-booted the system and everything worked fine.

"That's all I can do for now – but here's my card. Give me a call if you find that some emails are once again not getting through or you cannot get connected to send emails. Time will tell if the problem has been removed. This is the best that I can do."

"That's fine. How much do I owe you? You have been here almost two hours and then there's the cost of the modem."

"No charge for my new-found sister."

"Half-sister."

"Sister."

"Well, what a charmer you are. Here, kiss your sister."

A sulky voice answered when Dio called Carra. He knew that she'd be able to read that he was the caller.

"I'm on the way to the board meeting."

"Good luck, but I am disappointed that you didn't call in when you were so close to home."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was tempted, but I had work to do."

"Well, I'm still disappointed."

"Say, cheer up. I've invited a couple to din-dins at seven. Do I need to get anything?"

Carra brightened up. "I could do with some company, bright, sensitive company! Who are they?" 

"My half-sister and her husband," Dio said proudly.

Carra knew from his tone that he wasn't joking.

"What?" she screamed. "How could this happen?"

"The lady renting down the road from us at number 16 in our street. Around thirty years ago her daddy came to the very house you are sitting in right now and went to bed with my mummy and she took a fancy to him and they made a baby; isn't it great?"

"Well, perhaps you could have spared me the precise details, but it's wonderful for you. What's she like? What's her name? Do they have children? Is her father still alive...?"

"Hey, hey, slow down. I'll tell all kiddo when I get home. Board meetings are expected to take about an hour. I'm so wrapped."

"Yes, and so am I; Dio I love you!"

Well, thought Dio. Bess arrives on the scene and straight away digs me out of the dog box. Carra's really had her attention diverted from me; nice going, sis."

The trust board meeting ran for just over an hour, with the board going through the deed of trust word and then debating the chairman's list of objectives and priorities. Trustees then framed invest policies, based on the recommendations of consultants, Battersby & Associates.

Banker Chris Evans asked the chairman Ralph Thwaite how solid was the consultancy firm and had the credentials and track records of the partners been thoroughly checked.

"Yes, yes," Ralph said. "My people at Council did that last year – and thoroughly. They have done extremely good work for us Chris – taking some work away from you bankers, I dare say. But then we have you as a backstop, which is one of the reasons why you were invited to be a trustee. Your track record is beyond reproach."

Nicely defused, thought Dio. The answer also confirmed what Cal had reported to him – nothing but favorable comments plus word that Philip was being groomed to become a director at the Rotary club.

During this inaugural meeting, Chris managed to get the trust's bank account placed with his bank, facing no opposition to this change which was the recommendation of Battersby & Associates. Once that decision was made Chris said, "I'll try to get head office approval to increase the interest rate on that charitable trust account raised permanently to a margin of 0.25 per cent."

Ralph praised him for his integrity in not announcing that proposal before voting on placement of the bank account had taken place.

"That sets a fine example for us all to follow," said Dio, thinking he was sounding rather magnanimous, but hadn't managed to say anything original to that point. The comment drew a "Well said, Dio" response from the chairman.

The final item was for the advertisements and flyers calling for applications of grants from the trust. It was pointed out by Dio that no address was given for the return of applications. This was noted and the documents were approved without further comment.

Over whiskies (beer for Dio) at the conclusion of the meeting, he chatted to Tom Tayor and Ralph Thwaite, though refrained from mentioning the overflow property. He would leave that until his conditional offer had been accepted and Tom and Ralph knew him a little better.

Dinner was a great success. Carra took an immediate liking to Dio's warm and friendly half-sister Bess and found Rod easy to relate to and liked his cheeky grin.

When introduced, Rod had said to Carra, "Hey, is Cal Fleming and uncle or something?"

"My father, why?"

"Jeez, it's a small world. I started with his firm this morning as a crane driver. The boss had already told me that with my ownership experience, if things work out between us he could offer me a better position, though no promises."

"Oh, that's excellent. I'll tell my father that you and I are virtually related, sort of."

"Nah, don't do that please. I'd like him to judge me on true merit. Looking at you I'd guess you are a daddy's girl and that would be using undue influence."

"I think I'm going to like you, Rod."

"That's sweet – you're not a tough bugger like I pick your father to be, judging by the way I saw him bawling out a bloke this afternoon."

Carra and Dio looked at each other, raising eyebrows at that last comment, wondering if Rod would be revising that opinion when he met Cal in the company of Carmen.

"Will you be here in town on October 12 – it's a Saturday?" Carra asked.

"I think so," said Bess. "We're not planning to be going anywhere soon and our calendar is rather empty, being new arrivals."

"Well, Bess and Rob, since you are family, would you accept the invitation to attend our wedding on October the twelfth. Dio and I would like you to accept."

"Very much so," Dio said, thinking about the eruption when Carmen learned about this change because of the impact on her seating arrangements. Valium could be needed.

Rod looked at Bess and she read his mind. "Yes, she said, we accept with delight. I hope this late change doesn't upset anyone."

"Only the wedding planner – the neighborhood will need to be wearing earmuffs," Carra quipped.

"Oh dear," Bess said kindly. "Is the wedding planner a little temperamental?"

She and Rod looked in surprise as Carra and Dio clutched each other laughing.

"She's my mother!" Carra chortled.

"Oh dear," said Bess again, adding, "Mothers and weddings!"

They all fell about laughing.

Five hours later the guests left in great spirits.

"A really nice couple," Carra remarked. "She's a school teacher and they are thinking of adopting and she's a Virgo, stills plays squash, suffers from hay-fever, her other sport is archery and she mainly reads fashion magazines and romance novels and she wants a baby. What did you find out about Rod?"

"He's got a V8 Falcon, prefers bitter to larger and thinks the girls here wear their skirts far too short."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, what else did you expect?"

"Plenty. I thought he sounded more than just a crane driver. He told me that he's got an advanced certificate in mechanical engineering, is a qualified mechanic and when I asked him how many cranes he possessed when selling up recently, he said five."

"Golly, does your father know that?"

"No, and Rod doesn't want him to know so I won't saying anything. He's kept quiet about most of his background because he was worried he might be considered over qualified for the advertised job. He says if he's as good as he thinks he is daddy will find out in due course."

Dio rubbed his chin. "You know, if it turns out okay it will give your father a couple of good options."

"Like what?" Carra asked Carra, clearing the table.

"Installing Rod as general manager and easing back a bit in direct involvement, or alternatively opening a branch."

"Well, daddy will like having some flexibility at work. He doesn't have a helluva lot of it at home."

Ouch, thought Dio. Women are not only tough on men. The phone went. Dio saw that the caller was Charlie.

"It's late, but you said phone as soon as I heard," she said. The board chairman said it was a too important matter to pass with a small majority..."

At that, Dio's heart pumped faster.

"...so he kept them debating until all but one of the opponents crumbled. They have accepted our offer well within the majority required."

Our offer? Dio grinned. "That's great, really great Charlie. Wonderful teamwork, wasn't it? Did they accept our settlement date as well?"

"They surely did, Dio. You've got your way totally. Call in when at as soon as you can and we'll go over everything. Listen, you and I must have a drink soon."

The phone clicked and Dio stood looking at the handset, slightly shocked. What did that last comment mean?

"Who was it darling – did our visitors leave something behind?"

"No – it was Charlie. Our offer for the school has been accepted!"

Some crockery smashed on to the kitchen floor and Carra rushed through the door into his arms. "We must celebrate," he grinned, when the rain of excited kisses had eased.

Carra began turning out the lights. "Bugger more booze; let's take a shower!" Bugger the lights, thought Dio, heading to the bathroom, pulling his t-shirt over his head and walking straight into the door jam.

"What was that?" called Carra, turning out the front porch light. 

"Nothing – just walked into something," replied Dio, massaging his left wrist, relieved that he took the blow on his wrist instead of his nose.

* * *

By the end of that week the property dealings were all proceeding well. Philip's check as the deposit for the farmhouse had been cleared, reducing Dio's mortgage drawdown. It had been activated to pay the deposit on the school property. 

Some of the $50,000 received from Alice's will had gone to pay the deposit on the conditional purchase on the wasteland – that building site now called 'The Knoll' by the prospective purchasers.

Due to his spiraling financial dealings and lack of experience in that field, Dio invited fellow trustee Chris Evans to lunch to seek independent advice. 

Chris said that with the big cash drawn-downs ahead of Dio and 'your wife' as he referred to Carra although Dio had described her as his fiancée, he should be "with a sympathetic bank."

"Yours, I presume?" Dio grinned.

"No need to laugh at me, son," sniffed the elderly banker.

"No offence intended."

Chris smiled and said, "Gotcha going there didn't I?"

"Bloody hell, what a rare breed – a bank manager with a sense of humor," Dio responded. They disturbed nearby diners with their laughter, leaving those diners wondering just how filthy was the joke.

"Mentioning humor, have you heard this one?" said Chris, asking a question that could not be answered:

A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swat. 

'What are you doing?' she asked. 

'Hunting flies', he responded. ' 'Oh, kill any? 

'Yep, three males, two females.'

Intrigued, she asked how could she tell?

'Three were on a beer can, two were on the phone.'

Chris and Dio laughed as did people on two adjoining tables who'd been listening.

Chris lowered his voice to deliver some more advice. "I would suggest that you approach someone who is a solid citizen to act as guarantor for you. The upside is that it will make your banker happy; the downside is you would hurt your guarantor financially if you should go belly up. You'll need a guarantor who knows you, trusts you, and knows your business – and in your case, someone would could step in and take over should something happen to you, thereby eliminating business stress on your wife as a majority shareholder."

Driving to his next client, Dio thought about having someone as guarantor. He was aware that with a potentially fast expanding business the need for bridging capital could become quite heavy, and if the bank though a guarantor would make it happy, then perhaps he should get one.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 05



He phoned his accountant Ronnie, saying he had a couple of things to ask him.

Ronnie said he was up to his eyeballs. They agreed to meet for a beer after work. 

Tammy Chesterman, 44 Long Drive Road

It had been a taped message, so as Dio drove into the lifestyle block, eyeing two ponies hanging over the white rail topped fence watching his progress, he wondered if this client would be Tammy Eeles as she was when he knew her at school.

She kissed him excitedly and said she'd read about him in the newspaper and people had been talking about him. 

Dio wondered why Tammy, now a married woman, could kiss him so naturally yet at primary school when she was Tammy Eeles – a girl without a boyfriend – she'd run off crying when he attempted to kiss her. It didn't really matter why; it was just so nice seeing her again. But where had all the fat come from? She'd been a skinny girl.

"My husband Tony has purchased this DVD internal drive but hasn't managed to get it going. We need your help."

"I know Tony Stokes," said Dio. "He runs the indoor cricket facility – I go there with some of my old mates occasionally."

"Yes, he owns that and I have my indoor arena for coaching pony club members," Tammy said. 

"My two daughters and I are mad about riding – it's so nice sharing a passion with your daughters."

"Right," said Dio, not knowing what else to say about that concept. "Tony seems to be a neat guy. Although he's the boss he often jumps in if we are shorts of players. He's so athletic."

Tammy grinned and looked about to retort, but turned away and said: "The computer's in here. Look, apart from the DVD drive my daughters are driving us crazy downloading pictures of horses and leaving then here, there and everywhere. We have made them create their own folders but they are not very disciplined and now that they are getting older we are starting to have pictures of young hunks – surfers mainly – landing up in my recipes folder and even Tony's business files."

"Right," said Dio. "I'll check out the DVD drive and then do some reorganizing. A cup of coffee would be lovely Tammy."

"Right – and by the way, I love the name Mr Computer Cleaner. If we had porno on our computer I'd not feel embarrassed calling someone named like that to eradicate it. I'll get your coffee."

She returned with a steaming mug of black coffee, cream, sugar and two large oat biscuits.

"Ah, oats taken from the horses' feed box?"

She looked surprised, saying that was very astute of him to work that out. She burst into laughter when Dio looked hesitatingly at the biscuits. "Just joking," she said.

"By the way, what do you call your daughters?"

"You mean their names or nicknames? We use their nicknames at home. Well, Felicity absolutely hates her name so is called Flicka – that's named after a horse in a book I used to read to her when she was little, and Samantha is curiously called Thelma, no body knows why, she just began calling herself that name."

Later Dio called Tammy in. He pointed to four little piles of print-outs. 

"What I'm going to show you now is explained briefly in a mix of text and screen shots on those instructions – there's a copy for each of you. By the way, the DVD is now working fine. What I've done is to covert your computer into a personal computer for each of you. The divisions are called user accounts – and here they are, named Tammy, Tony, Flicka and Thelma. Each has a password and while the current password is the user's own name, the password can be changed to anything the account holder wishes. I've explained in the notes what the public access areas are, and what the personal areas are. Each user can easily create two personal folders within their section, providing yet another area of privacy. Here, try it, using your password name of Tammy."

When running his porn-finder software Dio had discovered there was porn on the computer, hidden four levels down in a folder named Thelma. The porn was in a subfolder named Hot; there were also DVD clips from the movie 'Thelma and Louise'. He'd left all that untouched but placing the subfolder in Thelma's My Pictures folder.

As Dio was leaving, Tammy kissed him again and said grinning, "You know, I remember at primary school trying to kiss you, but you ran away."

They laughed about that and she said that they must get together some time, perhaps he could come to dinner with his wife or partner – "Or both" she joked.

She's a character, thought Dio, going down the long metal driveway, passing the ponies still in the same position resting their necks on the top railing.

Regarding that reluctant kisser, I'll really try to get that sorted next time we meet. I like the version that I was the one that ran away. He slipped into a brief daydream. The school Journal front page story was headed, 'Young hero runs away from playground kissing wench to keep his purity intact'.

The phone went and he greeted, "Hullo sexy."

"I hope you checked that the caller was me."

"I did. Do you need me to come galloping home real quick?"

He was ignored. "Our conditional offer on The Knoll has been accepted after I agreed to go up five thousand. He seemed unmovable from that figure."

"That's fine, it's a wonder he didn't want more."

"He did try hard to get more. When he accepted he looked so sad but he said it will more than wipe out what he still owes the firm who did the earthworks. Guess who owns that firm."

"Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Well, there you go; it's a wonder Cal didn't mention that debt when we took them to the site. If he tells Carmen that it looks like a big long overdue debt is about to be paid, he might get lucky."

"How can you men think so convolutedly?"

"Women force us into it."

"Well, I'm off to rush this application for building consent on The Knoll to Council."

"Stay right there – I coming in to collect and then we'll do lunch, as you term it. I love lunching with a beautiful lady."

"Oh, I'll be some time getting ready then."

"No, come as you are; if I wanted to be sitting opposite a make-up queen I'd take your mother to lunch."

"Really? Have you ever taken her to lunch?"

"Boy, that's a leading question. Something's just leapt back into your mind."

"Yeah, I've seen her looking at you a couple of time with hooded eyes.

"What, your mother?"

"Yes, my mother. What's wrong with my mother looking at you speculatively?"

"Providing she's only thinking about the pleasure this body must be giving her darling daughter, there is nothing wrong with her speculative looks at all. But it better only be that."

"Why?"

"What an awful question to ask; grab the application, put on lipstick and stand outside the salon. I'm three minutes' away."

As they drove to the offices of the District Council, Dio asked a pertinent question: "Do you have any residue influence within the planning and building consent department?"

"Heaps. I did their Xmas party last year. We held it at the tennis club and had a harem night theme and decorated the room appropriately and selected appropriate music for the DJ. Then mama and some of her old students – Charlie was one of them – staged a floor show just before supper. People raved about the night. I'm the darling of the PBCD."

"What's that?"

"Planning and building consent division."

"Oh, but division not department?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, not at all. I suggest you walk into the boss playing harem music and drop our application on to his lap."

"Oh no, not Cliff. He's got a bit of a reputation. No, Lucy is the one. She's tough and if she recommends to the committee that it be approved then they'll do it, especially since we adopted that indemnity suggestion of your solicitor friend Tom Taylor."

Tom recommended submitting the application with the document he would prepare for them that would indemnify the Council from the applicants taking any action against the council for granting approval should there be trouble from future flooding.

"Yeah, that together with the surveyors' report, historical flooding levels report and the report from the Council's own engineering consultants supporting our application should do the trick. Oh, by the way, Philip Coles, the engineering consultant reckons, if it grants approval the Council will probably start the first stage of the planned flood protection works to protect its butt from prosecution threats from higher authorities for delaying much needed remedial works."

"When were you talking to him?"

"He knows Philip and joined us when Philip and I were having a beer last evening."

"This habit of yours of having the occasional drink with the boys is not all money down the urinal, is it?"

"My God, an understanding woman; you're brilliant darling."

"You can be a clown at times, Dio, and you've just driven passed the Council offices."

"Oh dear, luckily there is a roundabout up ahead."

At lunch they discussed the school site that they now owned, subject to final settlement, particularly how the property should be developed.

"We're lucky most structures are reinforced concrete" Dio said. "We need to decide which one should be converted into our new home. With luck, alterations could be completed by the time we have to hand mom's house over to the new owner. The real estate salesperson says the property should sell quickly as it is sheltered and borders the popular public reserve. I reckon everything from the farmhouse and sheds should be stored in the old school hall. That structure will go as it was built of cheap materials and some of the roof trusses appear to be delaminating. They could, of course, be reworked and on-sold."

"Every thing is working out well," said Carra. "What happens once we have done some sketches? Take them to those architects in Hunter St – Ball and something?"

"I'd like to give the job to Harry Smith, I went to school with him and used to run with him. He's pretty solid but I'd like his wife who's in partnership with him, to do work up the ideas. According to that engineer Philip Coles she's the best in town."


"A woman? That suits me, especially for the house."

"Good, but remember the house on the school site will eventually be the general manager's house, if we manage to grow into a big operation. So we should not spend too extravagantly."

Pushing away the remnants of her salmon salad, Carra asked about his thoughts on overall site development.

"Yeah – we have a large area of sealed ground. I passed Craig's Couriers the other day and noticed they are really jammed in their site. Ronnie is Craig's accountant and has mentioned the possibility of Craig relocating on part of the old school. They're probably over there now as we speak. The advantage is that it has access to two streets. If they take over the junior school block they could have their freight handling operation downstairs along with dispatch and administration and other activity upstairs. On-site safety would be improved by having the vans entering one gate, going into the building to load, and then driving straight out to exit through the other gate. I'm seeing Ronnie this evening so he may have something interesting to tell me. He reckons the setup that I've just mentioned would improve the efficiency of Craig's business enormously."

Carra ordered dessert for herself, coffee for Dio.

"Of course you went to school with Craig?"

"No, what makes you say that?"

"Most people you seem to deal with went to school with you."

"Yeah, funny that," he said. "I didn't go to school with Harry Smith the architect, but not his wife Hattie nor Craig, which sorta stuffs up that theory. Whoops."

"What's wrong?"

"Was at primary school with Craig's second wife, Amy, who was a class behind me."

"And the bar where you like to drink but don't take me there because it's mainly a bloke's bar. I suppose you went to school with the bar owner?"

"Yeah, both Nic and his wife Nicola; how did you guess?"

"One doesn't have to guess. Men are just so transparent and predictable.

Dio grinned slyly. "Oh, right. By the way, please explain your past relationship with the owner of your favorite dress shop, the underwear shop, why you prefer Meg's corner grocery store to the supermarket and particularly the relationship with your hairdresser who is to be your bridesmaid?"

Carra colored but clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Oh look, here is my desert. Doesn't it look wonderful?"

That left Dio wondering what had happened to their conversation. Anyway, what was so wonderful about a piece of blueberry pie with a dollop of cream on top? He looked at her and smiled. She really was the best thing that had happened to him in recent years. He suddenly noticed something and mentally kicked himself. Time to make amends and score big; he leaned across to clasp her hand.

Trying to speak in his huskiest tone, he said: "Thank you for being with me here and wearing one of my favorite outfits. I love watching you walking in front of you packed in those tight jeans, and then sitting opposite I like the way the nipples are saying hullo through your t-shirt."

Carra's turned pink, saying: "Hush, people at the next tables can hear you."

"Yeah, but I've already taken a quick look. None of their women have the thoroughbred contours that you exhibit."

Carra eyed him steadily, wiping her mouth with a serviette. "What a beautiful lunch with wonderful company," she said softly.

I really must be more considerate, Dio thought. The time was opportune to sound her out: "Would you like to go back to real work?"

"Yes, I'm not very good at playing receptionist."

"Want to start Monday?"

"What doing?"

"Working at your new job as director of administration and marketing."

"Where, from home?"

"No, something much better – Ronnie says we can hire the office set aside as a workroom for clients. They can use the reception area. Should you run out of work for us you can do some keyboarding on an hourly rate for him. What do you think?"

"Can we go around and have a look at the office now, and will I have off-street parking? I'm about to get my new car."

"Let's find out, shall we? I like it when you look so happy."

It had been Ronnie's idea for Dio and Carra to begin drawing salaries as from next Monday as the business had generated income from the sale of the two franchises but after the inbuilt setting up costs including the franchisees' vehicles and stationery, there were few on-going costs to set off against income.

"As soon as Carra gets her marketing program sorted out and the framework for administration, we can start expanding the territory by selling more franchises," Ronnie said. "We've already had a couple of enquiries from a woman and a bloke who heard on the grapevine that we were starting to sell them."

Dio had like Ronnie's use of the word "we". With just one share, a directorship and spin-off accountancy business that he would have got regardless, he was already thinking of it as 'our' business; excellent.

Dio decided to tell Cara all. "It was Ronnie's idea that we should start working as salaried directors."

"I had already worked that out. I would appreciate, though, being told these things a bit sooner," said Carra looking out of the window at dress shops.

"I really must," promised Dio, kicking himself again.

"At least you are more considerate that many men I know."

Dio felt pleased about that, Good boy Dio. But who were all of those men that she knew well enough to know that? He decided against going down that track and looked instead for new model vehicles in the passing traffic.

"Oops, there's something I forgot to tell you," Carra said. "I received a call this from London this morning after you left from Tina. After the wedding she's going on holiday with her parents whom she hasn't seen for four years. She's really excited about being a bridesmaid."

"Good, will Ronnie like her?"

"She's short, a little plump but very lively with a wicked sense of humor and when boozing, her favorite drink is beer."

"Ronnie will like her, and so will Philip."

Dio managed to fit in four more service calls that afternoon and was pleased to find his expanded expertise in demand. All of the hardware/configuration problems had been minor but it was surprising how owners of computers did not have the confidence to do the jobs themselves, although as they watched him work that afternoon two men he'd called on said, "Oh, is that all you do – I knew that" or words to that effect.

As he parked he phoned Ronnie, and when he reached the bar Ronnie had a cold beer waiting for him, ready for fast dispatch.

"Boy, that didn't touch the sides," they said in unison, laughing. 

"Not one of my city clients offered me afternoon tea which was a bit unusual," said Dio. "I bet it would have been offered it had I been working on country calls."

"That's right," said Ronnie. "Meal breaks are really important to country people – tradition I suppose, as they don't go the hard grunt like in the old days."

"Think that, but don't say it – that's my advice," Dio laughed. "I remember on the first morning on my first Helpdesk job. I said conversationally to the caller who was a farmer that it looked like it might rain. He slammed the phone down. Minutes later his wife phoned asking what had I upset her husband; I didn't know what she was talking about until she said her husband had everything organized to start baling the hay right after lunch, I clicked, and he wouldn't want it to rain with that job waiting to be done. I posted him a pack of complimentary floppy disks but never heard from them again."

"Yeah, I guess it's as touchy as telling a lesbian and lesbian joke."

"Do you know some lesbians?" Dio asked.

"I don't know. Do you?"

"Don't know, but hey, this is a funny conversations; let's get on to something else. Is it okay for Carra to start using that space at your office Monday?"

"Yeah – the door is unlocked from eight and there's parking behind the office. Tell her to ignore the tow-away signs but to make sure she gives Mavis in reception her car registration number."

"Thanks. Could you show her how to get the both of us on the company payroll; she knows quite a bit, but mostly as theory."

"That's OK. I've got it all set up ready to transfer."

"Thanks – she'll have a laptop; now for something different again. I would like to ask you to be a guarantor for both the company and me personally. Chris Evans recommends that I find a guarantor."

"Good, so we're going to be banking with them?"

"Yeah, could you set it up please?"

"Right, and yes I will act as guarantor up to two hundred grand."

"That's great, but Chris thought one hundred."

"Yeah now, and then would ask for it to be upped another hundred later on. We are going to be a high cash flow business and through computerization I can keep an eye on things – on a daily basis if I wish, so I see risk to myself as being very limited. Besides, you're going to increase the capital value of the school property enormously without too much investment – the valuation report we received in respect of taking the mortgage indicates that so I'm happy to be guarantor. All that I ask is for first option should you ever decide to sell."

"Right mate," said Dio, and they shook hands.

"Sorry – there's one more request. I've just got to get Carmen off my back."

"Mate, I'm not taking her. I hear she eats guys like me for breakfast."

"Ha, ha. I humbly ask, Ronnie, will you be my groomsman at the wedding? Mike will be best man and you would be partnered by Carra's friend who is coming in from the UK."

"Sure, I was wondering when you were going to ask. My bottle's empty – it's your shout."

Ronnie looked around the room for familiar faces, leaving Dio perplexed. "Don't I have to plead – I've rehearsed my lines."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 06



The setting is a small city in New Zealand. The hero with the odd name of Dio falls into an usual occupation that connects him to an assortment of offbeat characters. Dio enjoys a life richer in many ways than most people around him. He and twenty year old Carra break-down the hostility of Carra's parents over the 12-year age difference between her and Dio and become engaged. Dio has to adjust from living a life that includes accessible flesh drifting his way to learning to be loyal to his chosen one. They sell and buy property and Carra becomes more closely involved in the new company as a shareholder after it signs its first franchise.

*

After calling on two clients the next morning, Mr Computer Clearner Dio Wellington hurried back to the city centre. He just had to see the historic launch. He arrived at Wayne's garage carrying a camera and whistled wolfishly. Carra looked stunning, and her outfit went really well with the car. Carmen looked equally dashing in yellow and black, her hat even larger than Carra's.

Dio kissed them and Carmen was moaning. "I didn't realize the car was so small. I was expecting something the size of my car."

"I don't think MG made anything approaching the size of you saloon, madam," said Wayne and then began instructing Carra about how to drive the car. Fortunately her mother's previous car had a manual gearbox so she felt comfortable at the thought of returning to manual gear changing with the MG.

"That Wayne man is very smooth, very smooth indeed - and kind," said Carmen. "He noticed that the motor in my car has a miss, and offered to fix it after work this evening. But there is something about him – I sense it. I grew up becoming a very good judge of horse flesh and men are not all that different. I need you to advise me."

Sorry Wayne, thought Dio, in giving his reply: "I would recommend you rely on your instincts, Carmen. If you feel apprehensive, then don't do it. If you feel adventuresome, then do ahead."

"What adventure would be involved?"

"Who knows, Carmen; let your mind soar."

"Rely on my instinct you say?"

But there was no reply. Dio was over by the car taking a photograph of Carra trying to hold on to her hat as she was climbing down into her seat.

Dio took several more photographs including the final one of the two women in the car driving straight at him. He jumped out of the way and called, "Floor it!"

Carra hit the gas pedal and both hats sailed up into the air and landed on the road behind the rapidly moving vehicle. She drove back, laughing and even Carmen had a big grin – a beautiful shot caught by Dio and his camera.

"This little car; it is so beautiful for two ladies, but we must now be ladies without our 'ats," she said. 

Dion put the hats on the floor behind the front seats.

"Floor it!" cried Carmen, and her daughter obliged.

Carmen came into focus a couple of weeks later when Carra confided that Cal thought his wife was having an affair.

"What!" said Dio. "Carmen? It's more likely that Cal is."

"That's not funny, Dio," Carra said sharply. 

He looked at her and saw her bottom lip was trembling. Oh dear. The safe thing was to say something simple.

"Tell me about it."

Carra shot him a grateful glance. "She leaves the house every Wednesday and Friday afternoon just as she would go shopping. But she wears jeans and an old hat and has a carry bag.

"What's in the carry bag?"

"Daddy doesn't know."

"Where does she go?"

"Daddy doesn't know. He's afraid to follow her in fear that she would lose it completely if she caught him at it."

"But she ought to be pleased that he's worried about their marriage."

Carra shook her head. "Dio, you know very well that's the last possible spin mama would put on such behavior."

"Yeah, you are right. Decapitation would probably be the first thing to spring to her mind."

"Dio, she's really not that bad. You always exaggerate and make her out to be worse than she is. She can be extremely soft and loving at times."

"What can we do?" he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"I was hoping you could answer that. I am a little close."

He knew not to know to ask what that last bit meant, as he'd be no wiser after hearing the response.

"We could follow her."

"What – in your explosive red ute or my equally maxi-noticeable sports car?"

"Is there such a word?"

"You're stalling, Dio."

"I'll borrow Mike's van – he only uses it in the mornings."

"What color is it?"

"Dirty white."

"How big is it?"

"Van size?" he said, waiting to be tongue lashed.

"Well, that sounds reasonably inconspicuous. We can wear sunglasses so we won't be recognized."

"We always do."

"I'm under pressure Dio!"

"So you are. Sorry. When do we go undercover?"

"Tomorrow at 1:30. Please pick me up outside Ronnie's office at 1:15."

Dio sighed, and began to think about it:

Ace detective Dio the Diabolic and his sidekick Carra the Catalyst mentally synchronized their watches and dashed into town to hire two 1940s trench coats.

The old fella in the dingy store with its bare floorboards, tilted back his hat and scratched his head. 'Ain't saying we have trench coats son, at least not in my time which is nigh on fifty-five years. But we have trenching spades – will they do instead?' Out of the side of his mouth Ace detective Dio told the old man, 'Give us four, buddy. We can each wear one front or back. The person we'll be following will never know as she will be looking straight ahead.'

"Dio – you're not listening. Do you want to watch TV? There's a really old classic detective movie on tonight, the 'Maltese Falcon', starring James Mason."

"Yes and no – Yes, I will watch it with you and no it doesn't star James Mason – the lead is none other than Humphrey Bogart. Get the popcorn out, baby."

The next day Carra looked very dissatisfied. "Good heaven, this old crate smells of oil, sex and garbage. I hope no-one I know sees me in it."

"The van is clapped out, so that's engine oil you can smell. The sex smell is probably a mixture of cabbage and fish, remnants of foodstuff collected from the wholesale markets for the café that have fallen into nooks and crannies or under your seat."

"Stop teasing, Dio. I don't want a fish flapping out from under my seat and on to my legs."

"Sweetheart, fish that smell this bad have been dead for some days, if not weeks. Believe me."

"Well, at least drive slowly so you don't shake out dead fish from under the seat."

"Baby, the top speed of this vehicle is forty miles an hour with the wind behind it. Fortunately for us you mother drives slowly to stop speedsters going so fast."

"Who told you that?"

"Your father."

"What else has he told you that would embarrass either mama or me?"

"Babe my lips are sealed. I have no wish to start a range war."

"What's a range war and why are you suddenly calling me babe. It's uncouth."

"Detectives always call the broad, who's their sidekick, babe."

"Oh, I might have known. You're into one of your fantasizing phases again."

"Quick, duck down under the dashboard babe, here is our subject."

"Ugh, Dio! There is a revolting smell down here."

"Never mind, you can come up now. Subject has turned into Sunrise Street, which obviously means she's heading east. Note the time and write began tailing Subject at 1:33."

"Grow up, Dio. Turn on the air conditioning and put your foot down hard."

"The pedal is jammed to the floorboards. The air conditioning is that little silver handle by your elbow: it's called a window winder."

"I can see that, and anyway, I would have much preferred a clean white van with air conditioning, a fast motor and no smells."

"This van has a fast motor. It's just that it's a model without fast wheels."

"Is that true, or are you teasing me?"

"Quick, make a note. Subject turned into Ten Mile Road at 1:36."

"I'm not taking notes. That's silly. But go faster, we'll lose her."

"Fortunately, Ten Mile Road is ten miles long with lots of straight stretches. Here we are, around the corner we go. Oops, a bit of under-steer or is it over-steer? Doesn't matter – oops, almost a fuck-up with us rolling over. Look – there is your mother, clearly out of the restricted speed limit, still speeding along at a sedate forty miles an hour. Nevertheless – we're actually gaining on her. I'm going to do something I thought I would not have to do."

"What's that?"

"Brake to slow down a bit."

"Our boys are going to love having you as a father, Dio. They won't need playmates. They'll have you, the tallest kid in the street."

"Now, now, no insults please; I'm forgoing earning income by taking you on this spy trip."

"It's not spying...it's...it's..."

"Reconnaissance?"

"Yes, reconnaissance to make sure she's all right," said Carra, really on edge and really wanting some leadership from Dio who – damn him – wasn't at all in sync with her.

Dio was tempted to ask what was wrong with her but thought he'd pushed right to the limit.

"Ho – ho; there she goes."

"Where?"

"She's turned into that farm on the left."

"Oh yes. Look, it has a sign. It says 'Sundance Horse Stud – Home of Fleetwing Chariot" and look, it gives the name of mama's lover, 'J & H Fry', please slow down, we don't want to be seen."

"We are out in the open. If anyone looks we shall be seen. You believe you have the name of your mother's lover, which Fry - J or H? 

"How would I know, unless I catch them at it?"

"You know, you and your father are jumping to conclusions. You have absolutely no evidence at all; she may very well be delivering semen."

"Yuck, why would she want to be doing that?"

"Because it's a horse stud farm."

"You idiot, they use the real thing. The standing stallion is that horse named on the signboard, Fleetwing Chariot."

"Oh, I thought that was the name of a pop group – they often have concerts out in the country you know."

"Dio, if I thought you were being stupid just to tease me..."

"No, no. I think laterally you know, not multi-directional like you."

Carra was on to that one – an attempted put down. But just as she opened her mouth to yell at him when Dio said, "There she goes!"

Peering through the dirty window of the vehicle, Carra's mouth drooped in despair. She saw Carmen was walking to the front door, swinging a carry bag.

"Inside that will be a half bottle of scotch, tissues, make-up, a soft towel, condoms and a slinky little night dress and crutchless panties from Paris."

Mention of condoms angered Carra but the mention of underwear from Paris fired her belly.

"How do you know about the underwear from Paris? I know. Daddy spilled his guts, didn't he? Christ, they way you men talk about your women..."

"Steady on. He told me in front of Carmen. I'd asked them if they had traveled through Europe and they said yes, and they really loved Paris. I said that's a great place to buy sexy underwear wasn't it, and your father agreed and mentioned what he had bought in Paris, but he didn't actually say the panties were crutchless. Are they?"

"That is not for you to know," she rebuked, cooling down. "Look at them!"

Dio looked. A tall man with graying hair had come out of the door of the stained wood ranch-house. He stooped and kissed Carmen, took her carry bag and then stood aside to allow her to enter first."

"They're lovers!"

"Circumstantial. Actually he didn't kiss her on the lips. He kissed her on the cheek jus like hundreds of other men would."

"My mother doesn't know hundreds of men and only a handful have the privilege of kissing her, and you are one of them."

"Well, what now?" Dio asked. "Give them ten minutes then rush in to see if they are doing crosswords?"

"In ten minutes they will be in bed," said Carra, her bottom lip wavering.

"Look darling. There's a country pub down at that last corner. Let's go and talk this through. I promise to be straightforward and non-provocative."

"Is that possible?" she smiled thinly, patting his arm. Those diversions had restored her bottom lip back to normal.

"What's that?" she asked, as Dio walked to where she was sitting carrying a Fallen Angel for her and a whisky sour for him.

"This is a really trendy place. When I asked the barmaid did they have cocktails she replied 'you name it, I'll produce it'. She told me that do great meals at weekends. We should try it sometime."

"Well, what do we do now?"

"The obvious. Let our drinks fire our bellies and go back to town. We can't do anything more and you know it. If you stay at your post for twenty minutes or four hours, it will make no difference. You still won't know what has she's been doing."

"I know very well what she is doing."

"And you want to deny her that choice?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's an adult woman, perfectly capable of making rational decisions about what she does outside the family home. We have no right to interfere."

"What about daddy?"

"Well, what about daddy?"

"He has rights too."

"Well, if he does in this case I'm not sure what they are."

Dio rubbed the back of his neck vigorously. "Look, you can go around tonight and ask you mother: 'Are you having an affair?' Think about it. What difference will it make if she answers yes or no? If she were to answer yes, would you say, 'I want you to stop. 'Your mother would be entitled to say to you, 'Butt out of my personal life.' Picture it! You then collapse into a heap and cry, her eyes go hooded and she looks at you thinking, what have I done to deserve a weak daughter like this?"

"Mama would never say that and how do you know about that look. She's never shown it to you?"

"Oh boy, don't you remember at our first meeting at your home when we clashed with your parents? She was poised, ready to rip my heart out. I know she was."

"Yes, I'd forgotten about that. This drink's nice. My tummy is all warm inside."

"Another one?"

"No, let's go as soon as we've finished these ones. We can both go back to work. I shall be all right. I don't want to accept what you are saying, but really it's the only alternative to me spitting the dummy."

"Good girl. You may be disappointed in your mother, suspecting that she is having an affair. Be disappointed, but don't reveal it to her. That's my advice."

"Do we tell daddy what we've found out?"

"That is over to you."

Carra fluffed up her hair and rubbed her hands together. "We say nothing."

"Good girl; actually you had no choice."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"Well, you love your mama as you call her, and you really love your daddy. There is no way you would want to help drive a wedge between them."

"Dammit, you men can be so logical," she frowned. She held up her almost empty glass in salute: "Be happy, mama and be true to yourself."

"Well, you're got that situation well covered if anyone up above is listening."

"That's the nearest thing to a religious-linked comment that I've ever heard you make."

"I can't help what I think."

"That's a dinky little answer which reminds me: we I have to find an alternative to Father Carol. He's mama's choice but you will not be comfortable in his presence as he will not hide his disapproval of me marrying a non-Catholic. I want our wedding to be a great wedding, not marred by things like that. And that reminds me of something else; you are supposed to have come up with a photographer."

"Whoops. I forgot to mention it. I sorted it out days ago, taking a phone call on the run and it slipped to the back of my mind. Margaret Beamish will do it."

"What! She'll cost a fortune."

"Nah, just travel and accommodation and at some other time a free weekend's stay at the lake cottage."

"Yes, of course. Mama will be agreeable to that. But how did you do it, I can hardly believe it? Her photos go to some of the best women's magazines around. Oh dear - I know, you went to school with her brother." 

"No, her husband actually."

They burst into laughter, with the barmaid looking at them anxiously, wondering if they had been mixing other substances with their alcohol.

Back in the van, Dio checked his phone messages. 

One from Tom Taylor advised that the committee had approved the single sale of a section in the River Flats (The Wasteland), Subdivision lot 79.

"We can build on The Knoll whenever we wish," he said.

Carra squeezed his hand with pleasure but her excitement was dulled by the thought of her unfaithful mother.

Dio said that Tom Taylor had been advised confidentially that the Council works committee had approved the construction of stage one of the western riverbank flood protection works over the coming summer which would remove the threat of flooding the overflow in the area known locally as The Wastelands.

"Well," he sighed. "That timing will suit us as it will take us the best part of a year to find time to think about house plans while we're coping with the development of the school site and the wedding and building up the franchising side of the business. We have a lot on, you know."

"Yes, but we should complete the purchase of The Knoll today," said Carra, "then that's one thing off our minds." 

"Right, we don't want a greedy property owner trying to find a loophole in our conditional offer once the news gets out about the flood protection works are to proceed gets out, initiating a land purchase rush. Let's go. We might get this crate up to fifty as the wind will be behind us for most of the way and its downhill."

"Golly, fifty in the rotten fish bucket," Carra laughed looking at the speed indicator. "But at least it served its purpose. Neither of them at the farmhouse gave any indication of seeing us. We must have looked like a genuine roadside breakdown."

Dio's phone rang.

"Hi Ronnie. Yes, Carra and I have been out boozing. We've got a little property deal to stitch up and then she'll be back it and I'll be out earning money."

"Yes, all the land within the subdivision shown as lot three and everything on that land 'as is'"

"No, lease only. We are not selling title." 

"Yes, I know he's asking you to check to find out how firm we are on that. Yes, I know 'we' includes your opinion also." 

"Yes he can erect a security fence around the entire perimeter of lot three." 

"Yes, let him produce what he thinks is an attractive return to us on a five by five lease and then we will negotiate. Alternatively, you know the value of that lot; you can negotiate on our behalf."

"Of course I trust you to do that. Who wouldn't trust their guarantor?"

"Bye."

Carra hadn't been able to hear the conversation properly because of the roaring of the van motor so Dio brought her up to date. "The courier company is displaying mild interest in the primary school block. Everyone from the company was down there with Ronnie at lunchtime and staff and contract couriers want to occupy our site as soon as possible. The managing director was trying to play it cool but he nearly throttled his wife, according to Ronnie, when she came up to him and said what a perfect setup it would be. Ronnie has lease agreements at his office; he reckons he could have a provisional agreement signed by this evening subject to solicitors' approval and the site being an appropriate use."

"Will it pass?"

"Yes, it's not an obnoxious activity. In fact Ronnie says the property is in the same planning zone as the company's existing premises. The frequency of traffic movements is the only snag, but then that only requires traffic engineering solutions. Having access on two streets has reduced the problem considerably."

They drove on, with Carra deep in thought. "You know, we've come a long way suddenly, and have a lot of money floating around over our heads – an awful lot of money. It could be scary, but I'm not scared. I'm amazed at how we both were virtually nobodies until fairly recently and now we could be called young tycoons – well, almost. You are only thirty-two and I but twenty; it's hard to believe this is happening to us. Just think. If you hadn't gone to help Alice with her computer problem and stayed and talk to her so nicely then she would not have responded to you, leading to us gaining a small fortune from her. We owe her a lot."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 06



"Yes we do. For old time's sake let's slip down to the farmhouse after work and have a drink with her, if she's 'visiting'.

"I'd like to do that. You know, you flit from being a tease, to a business man to a sensitive man with such ease. I know I have said that before, but it continues to amaze me."

"Mum was a free spirit, and I inherited that from her. That's what I am – a free spirit."

Dio responded to three call-outs to people wanting help from Mr Computer Cleaner and then dropped in on to an earlier client, Hackett Schmidt, who'd made and painted Dio's much admired lockup box on the back of the ute.

Hackett was sitting on the front porch reading as Dio did a u-turn and stopped outside the gate.

"Good man, you've dropped in to say hello. I've got a couple of bottles of German beer in the fridge."

"Thank you but no, Hackett. I invite you to lock up and jump in behind the wheel. You may as well flick her around the block a couple of times while we chat."

They took off under heavy acceleration.

"Well boy, what is it. I don't do abortions you know. I've seen you driving around a couple of times with a school girl perhaps?"

"She's twenty and wants to marry me."

"Oh, then want advice about the unwanted pregnancy?"

"That's in your mind – watch that old lady!"

"It's Mrs Absalom. If I bowled her I would be the hero of the street as the SPCA would then be called in to remove her twenty-three cats."

"Twenty-three cats? Nobody has twenty-three cats."

"Mrs Absalom does."

"Hackett, the work you did on my tool box is the work of a craftsman. I have inherited an early 1950s MG sports car that needs a complete rebuild. I'm inquiring to see if you would like to take charge of the restoration. I would pay you."

Hackett chopped back into third gear and hurled the ute through a corner as he yelled, "Yippee!" The ute was drifting out towards the centre of the road in danger of colliding with a huge truck and trailer loaded with concrete pipes.

"Hackett..." was all that Dio managed to say, his throat suddenly dry and constricted.

Hackett slung the gear-shift into second and floored the gas pedal. Blue smoke came from the ute's driving wheels as the tires gripped and then spun under heavy acceleration. The truck driver pulled the cord of his klaxon-like air-horns but by the time the vehicles were alongside each other Hackett had the ute well back into his lane and was waving cheerily at the unimpressed truck driver.

"Nice driving," Dio said, concealing the shake in his voice. Actually, he was very impressed. "Hackett, we are in a restricted speed area and there are kids on the street."

"Ah, yes. Quite right," said Hackett wistfully, easing off the accelerator. "Tell you what, young man. The answers is yes, and I've got a retired fitter and turner with his own workshop and a retired car racing mechanic in mind to help me with this project. The conditions are: No interference, no payment, you pay all costs and get everything we need and you open an account for me at the corner bakery so I can get morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea each day for me and my helpers."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Good. We have a deal. I'll get the vehicle delivered. A handbook and a reconstruction guide from an MG restoration group are already on their way from England."

"Well," said Hackett. "This suits me fine. I no longer fancy myself with women and was wondering what I could do as an alternative project, and along comes you, my boy. Well done! Leave your phone number with me. I shall give you a call as soon as I've cleaned out the garage. That shall take me no longer than three days."

Dio walked with Hackett to the gate.

"I'm very grateful as I know the project will be in good hands."

"Yes, yes. Save that fancy talk for your school girl. Just saying thank you is quite sufficient. Dio – thank you; I'm gonna love this project."

* * *

Dio knew enough that weddings don't just happen, that there was much organizing to do. Someone had to be in charge and in this case Carmen had appointed herself to that role. Luckily she possessed the necessary requirements with one exception: she lacked an even temperament but that had to be overlooked. It was mainly her husband's money involved, anyway.

As Wedding Day drew nearer the steaming agitation within Carmen began to surface. Cal began talking about shifting out to a caravan at his business site and many of their friends stopped dropping around for a chat and drink. Even Carra and Dio did not escape. What used to be telephone calls from Carmen sweetly inviting them over for a swim in the pool, or a meal disappeared. Instead it was Cal on the phone announcing nervously: you'd better come quick, she wants you. The sweet invitations had become commands issued through her minion.

Dio became nervous, anxiously watching Carra for signs of succumbing to the 'mother-effect' like some creeping malaise. They discussed the situation regularly – it being Dio's view that Carmen placed a lot of pressure on herself unnecessarily. Carmen was a perfectionist, so pressure was built into her entire approach.

Carra introduced another possible element. "She'll still go to see that creep on his horse ranch – always on Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I bet that's when his wife goes to bridge."

The first time she'd risen that assumption, Dio had suggested that bridge afternoons could just as easily be Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was told, quite impolitely really, to go and wash his ute.

"The increasing anxiety is underpinned by mama's guilt of her infidelity," opined Carra. 

Dio wisely remained mute.

To thwart the possibility of pressure oozing through to Carra, Dio began massaging the back of her neck. Soon she wanted him to go down lower and do her shoulders, then along her spine. Before long he found this had become a necessary daily routine but was unable to abandon the practice because invariably it led to something they both rather enjoyed.

The naivety of Dio about wedding planning was revealed in a single incident. In his ignorance he assumed that one simply would order a cake for the wedding and that was that. But no, a series of discussions between mother and daughter eventuated. Instead of a round cake, white icing with a mixed dried fruit core, this cake was conceptually created with all the care of the architects and artists of the Sistine Chapel.

Gradually it evolved with decisions being finalized. 

Finalized?

The cake would be round. 

White icing – the icing would be white. The decision on that came quickly. 

It would be four tiers, no two, no three and then, why have tiers? Further discussion on that impasse was deferred because Carmen left the room crying, unable to accept the enormity of her daughter's suggestion of having a single layer wedding cake.

More tears followed – on both sides – when the two women resumed negotiations on cake issues. 

Cal took Dio to golf. Dio didn't play but Cal had said something about spending time on the practice nineteenth, which to Dio sounded promising because he'd heard some of his mates talking about boisterous times in the nineteenth on Saturday – and this was Saturday afternoon. 

The 'golfers' arrived home at 7:30 and the house was in darkness. They found Carmen asleep on her bed and Carra asleep in her bed, cuddling an old doll.

The men tiptoed from the bedrooms. 

"The poor things, tired after reaching full agreement on one of the great issues facing the Western World today," sniggered Dio, pulling two cans of beer out of the cocktail cabinet mini fridge as Cal had requested.

"Oh shit!" Cal exclaimed.

"What's wrong?"

"This," said Cal, holding up pieces of a torn photograph.

"What is it?"

"A photograph of our wedding cake. They must have advanced to cake decoration and Carmen would have said she wanted the decoration like she had on her cake and Carra would have had a different opinion. The tears would have flowed, Carmen would have lost it and torn up the photograph and they then would have gone to their respective bedrooms, slamming the door."

"That seems to be a credible replay of events."

"Believe me it is, mate; it comes from years of witnessing similar replays."

"What do we do now?"

"We keep our mouths shut and we make dinner. They will emerge, ravenous and pretending nothing untoward has happened. Believe me mate, I've seen it before; many times."

Eventually there was finality – a white-iced four-tiered cake of agreed dimensions, round tiers simply decorated, and recipe number four on the cake-maker's list of mixes. Only one late change was made before cake-making began: three layers plus a test sample.

The four of them went to the lake cottage on Friday evening for an 'almost there' overnighter as soon as the cake was finished, taking the test sample with them. 

At lunch on the lawn, with neighbors Alec and Melissa Simpson being invited to join them, they had a smoke trout salad, French bread and bottles of Spanish sparking wine. 

The cake was then tasted, passing the test. Everyone was overly complimentary and Carmen basked in the praise. The conversation turned fully on to the wedding so the men departed quietly, the women noting this rude behavior with silent approval.

"I thought the cake was a bit dry," commented Alec Simpson, twisting the caps off three bottles of beer.

"Nah, too moist," Dio decreed.

"About right," said Cal.

"Cheers!"

"Nicely done with our opinions," Cal said warmly. "When Carmen bails me up to ask me what we guys really thought of the cake I'll tell her what we've just said. One of us is bound to be right."

They laughed uproariously.

"Listen to those men – telling filthy jokes again," laughed Melissa. "Listen to this one – a fishing client told it to Alec last week..." 

On Sunday evening, with the wedding only a fortnight away, Carmen called a family conference, to be launched at dinner.

"Another crisis?" Dio asked.

"No, I think this one will be the biggie. If it is you've got to promise me that you won't wind mama up. I mean it Dio!"

"Okay, I promise."

"We also don't want you two men drinking too much before dinner. It tends to make you two to regard everything as being inconsequential. You both will be required to listen very carefully."

"Bloody compulsory conference for delinquent adults – all male," Dio mumbled, painfully kicking his toe on the door jam as he left the kitchen.

"What was that – I heard that!" Carra shouted, causing Dio to grin. He'd come to learn it meant the exact opposite. She hadn't heard a thing and any moment she'd appear beside him to wheedle it out of him. She couldn't bear to miss his muttering. She'd always say afterwards, "In case they were intelligent comments."

There was a rustle and Carra appeared beside him, put her arm around him and squeezed. "I didn't quite catch that; you were saying...?"

"Yes, the meeting sounds important. Cut back on the booze and listen attentively," Dio lied.

"Oh darling. How cooperative. You deserve something nice. I know, I shall make apple pie for desert."

It sometimes pays to lie, Dio thought, thanking Carra for being so kind.

"Hi guys," Dio's half-sister Bess called as she came through the gate and on to the porch; another lovely day in paradise?"

"Sure is," Carra responded. "I love a warm, fine spring."

"You're looking a little stressed Bess," Dio observed, hitting bull's-eye.

"Yeah, well. You know how it is."

After that puzzling response, Bess looked at Carra.

"There's something you should know. Rod's been told by your father that he's considering him for a manager's position as he's made an excellent impression. When Rod told me that he laughed and said that your father is under the impression that Rod had managed his own business with five cranes, rather than being a one crane owner-driver."

Dio looked at Carra. Her face was scarlet. Obviously he'd told her father what Rod had told her after indicating she would not do that! 

Apparently Bess was unaware of what Rod had told Carra because she added: "I don't know who has spread that misinformation – probably one of Rod's workmates. Rod really isn't a con-man, but he does find no difficulty in exaggerating. He's a great worker, and a leader of men, I'll grant you that, but a manager? Oh no, he is not a paperwork person."

Carra assured Bess it would be all right as her father would not make such a decision lightly.

Bess looked relieved.

"I want to ask you guys over to dinner tomorrow night. Now, back to that other matter – I wonder Carra if you could have a quite word in you father's ear about Rod, something to sound a note of warning."

"Should I tell daddy outright that Rod's a Walter Mitty?"

"Cripes no; being that blunt might cause you father to fire him; shat wife in her right mind you want to be responsible for indirectly leading to the sacking of her husband?"

"Right," Carra said thoughtfully. When I talk to mama later today I'll mention that we are going to your place for dinner tomorrow night. Actually, she's really keen to meet you. She's certain to tell daddy and when I see him he'll ask how the dinner was. That will give me the chance to casually mention that Rod's a one-crane man. In fact, I could suggest to mama that she invites you over for a barbecue with us, and we could arrive late."

Dio shook his head in awe, knowing Rod had told him he'd owned five cranes. Further, an embarrassing situation was in the process of being expertly defused by some nimble minded conversations, with absolutely no need for anyone to apologize or admit they'd spoken out of school. 

"You're incredible Carra" he said, meaning devious. But it was not interpreted that way.

"Oh, am I darling," Carra responded, obviously pleased.

"What a nice thing to say, Dio," said Bess, also looking pleased.

"I've asked another couple for dinner tomorrow night. I have secured a temporary position in a private school and met this lovely lady who heads the junior school. I've since found out she's married to a man who's been giving me some investment advice. I am sure you'll like them."

"We do," Dio said.

"Silly, you haven't been introduced to them yet," laughed Bess, and they began talking about other things while Carra popped into the kitchen to made tea. 

Carra had twigged to what Dio was on about – the other couple going by Bess's comments could be none other than Philip and Ella Battersby, he thought. Fancy being able to work that out without being told the names of the couple! After Bess had left Dio said, "Oh, I forget to tell her I know the names of her other guests."

"Me too," said Carra.

"You've worked it out?"

"I'm not just a pretty face, Dio Amazon Wellington."

He turned red. 

"How did you find out? I hate that name!"

"I think it's great – fancy having a husband named after a famous Greek botanist and the world's greatest botanical garden. I found out by picking up a book that you may never have touched. It's your mother's bible and she's got some notes and names about your family history, including why she called you those names. Her hope was that you would become the greatest botanist the world has known."

"Truly?"

"Yes. One evening when we are quiet and peaceful – which is rare, I know – I shall read you what she has written. It may surprise you as she also writes about herself.

"Golly."

"Yes golly, Dio. Now that's a word I've never heard you use or anyone else for that matter in a great many years. How quaint."

"Mum used it. She said her father used it a lot."

"Ah, you do know a little of you family history. Tell me more."

* * *

On Sunday evening both Carra noticed that although Carmen appeared to be calm, her eyes were distinctly hooded. Carra set out to find if the upset involved a solvable problem. "It's that father of yours," Carmen snapped. "I asked him to lay off the liquor tonight except just for a social drink and he said he'll decide when and what and how much liquor he would drink. He'd just come home from golf, of course, where he'd been drinking. He said if Dio set the pace then he'd be obliged to keep up with him."

"Oh, that's all right, mama. Dio will be only having two or certainly no more than three drinks."

"How can you be so confident about that?"

"Because he promised me."

"But men will promise a woman the world to get what they want?"

"We're talking about drinking, mama. If you must know, when Dio promises it is a promise. He is very particular about that."

"My goodness, he's got morals – or at least one. I am impressed. Perhaps some of that will rub off on your father?"

"Your problem, mama is that you expect daddy to lie to you and he knows that. You will both need reprogramming for that to change."

"Goodness, my darling. You sound so mature. I'm beginning to think that Dio is having a good influence on you."

"And I on him, mama. Our mothers taught us good."

"That's not grammatical, darling. It should be said, our mothers taught us well."

"I was expressing myself as an ignorant person, mother, and indicating humility."

"Good gracious, you are becoming profound and playful with language. Is this another Dio influence?"

"Yes, mama. Dio can be a nightmare to follow, especially when he's teasing or winding one up or purposely wants to be obscure or fires double innuendoes which he does rather a lot. I think his mother must have been a real live-wire, and cheeky."

"Men seem to like women who are like that and easy with their favors."

"Quite, I suppose. In this home almost everything we discussed and the thoughts we each expressed were almost predicable. It was because we rarely deviated from the straight and narrow, linguistically speaking. Perhaps that was because English was your second language and daddy's was Australian workshop English. However, we did have some totally unstable times when you had one of your paddies."

"Me," smiled Carmen, placing a hand dramatically on her breastbone like an old-time actress. How can my daughter say that I lose my – how do you say – my cool? I am one of the calmest women alive."

"Mama, it's Sunday, and you are lying."

"No my dear, those were mere words, mere words. We best return to the other room before those men drink the liquor cabinet dry."

They joined the men who were chatting at the dining table. Both were drinking water. They looked up and smiled, Dio noticing the hoods over Carmen's eyes had retracted.

As the meal progressed Carmen said she wanted to talk about protocol in respect of her mother.

"Mama's family is linked multiply to lines of Spanish families of noble birth and her direct descendents settled on Las Pampas in 1827. Mama, like her mother and her mother's mother, had a hard life in a hard man's world and adapted according. I say this with pride; mama is the only woman on this earth who I fear."

Carmen afraid of someone? Dio looked at Carra to wink at her but she was staring at her mother, eyes dark and moist.

"One day my mother met this engineer, grandson of a British railwayman who'd came to help build up the country's railway system and like so many of them, stayed on. They were guests at a wedding and there was a clash a minds. My mama, Dolores Rodriguez, told this man, Oliver Leighton, to apologize, but he refused. 

Although this was the first time any man had stood up to mama, she was displeased and sent for her cousin across the floor to teach this impudent man a lesson. The cousin was knocked unconscious by Oliver before landing even one blow. This Oliver Leighton walked over to my mama, seized her and kissed her. He sat down beside her and her mama and papa watched this occur without a word. Neither mama nor this Oliver uttered a word, and she slowly sat down. Mama had just realized that she had at last met a man that she would marry."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 06



"Of course, there will be much exaggeration in that story, but that's how mama told the story to me one thousand times, and it never varied and nor did my father attempt to change anything she said. He used to sit there listening, puffing on his pipe, grinning. 

"Now, mama will be arriving with an entourage of sixteen people. Papa is unable to come, as he is poorly, as is mama's sister. She will be accompanied by eight of her friends – all couples."

"And the other eight?" Dio asked.

"Oh, servants of the travelers and mama's physician. They are of no consequence and shall not attend the wedding although shall be close-by in their bus in case needed."

"She has her own physician?"

"Of course. Mama gets indisposed at times."

"Oh."

"This is why we need to talk about protocol. Please regard mama as the matriarch, with seniority even over me. Although those eight people are her dear friends, this is her wedding and they are her guests."

"She's paying for them to come?"

"Of course. I said it was her wedding."

"Oh."

"It is important that you do not talk with familiarly to the servants, Dio. They do not expect it and indeed would be embarrassed if you did, particularly within the hearing of mama. She will be introduced to the guests as the wedding first, followed by me and then Cal. Please accept that. That is the way it has to be. During her short stay mama, her guests and servants will stay near the international airport in Hotel Southern Stars. We four shall, of course, be in attendance for their arrival. Mama and the guests will fly down to the wedding by helicopter, the servants will travel by bus which has it own mini kitchen to service them.

"Mama only will come to this house for one brief visit, which is protocol. It will be the day before the wedding and I shall require you to be here Dio. Cal and Carra already know they must be here. For dinner that day at two we will have the exclusive use of Club Malibu Restaurant – that's mama, we three and your wedding attendants. Everyone must attend – please be very clear about that. The lunch and all drinks will be paid for by the host, mama. She will be insulted if anyone fails to attend – I have the printed invitations ready to send out. Partners not in the wedding party are not invited.

"Well, that's all except to announce that 213 people have accepted our invitation to attend the wedding and 14 are unable to come. Carra will be phoning the eight people who have yet to respond to get their decision. Carra and I will do a draft seating arrangement on the Thursday and then print out the final seating plan on Friday morning. We are having this property thoroughly cleaned inside and out by professionals on the Wednesday who will then go and clean the lakeside cottage. All this week Alec has kindly been sprucing up all the paintwork at the cottage and next week will manicure the grounds. Some of our out-of-district guests will be staying there. Thank you for listening. Drinks please Cal."

An hour later Carmen spoke to Dio while Carra and Cal were clearing away. "You know, Dio, I am becoming fond of you. My daughter is benefiting from being associated with you, which truly has surprised me. Being a mother I rather expected the worst. You shall soon be face to face with my mother, and it will not be easy for you. So I shall say this. One, she will be out to find if you will be taking Carra away from me. Whatever your intentions are long-term, you would be ill-advised to give her anything but the declaration that you have no intention of separating mother and daughter. Two, she despises men who display weaknesses, so be on your guard. For God's sake do not confront her but do not grovel either. Just relax and I believe you will be fine."

Dio was getting a little tired of all the speech-making, but tried to remain polite. "Thank you for your advice, Carmen. Incidentally, how old is your mother – seventy or so?"

"Dio! What an improper question!"

Not blinking, Dio stood his ground. He wished he could hood his eyes.

"Well, just between you and me," said Carmen, whispering, "she is sixty-one. She married at sixteen and I was born the following year. To save you wondering, I am forty-three. Why do you have to know this?"

"She knows about me, I have to know about her. Do her eyes hood?"

"How would I know? What on earth are you talking about?

Well, that was a no, but then again, why she was looking at him so closely? 

Driving home, mentally exhausted, Dio said to Carra that her mother had actually delivered a quality presentation.

"Yes, when she's good she's very good, and when ... and so on," said Carra wearily.

"Tell me something, is Senora Leighton or is it Senora de las Leighton, the president of Argentina?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Whatever made you think that?"

"All this stuff about protocol and pecking order and coming in and practically taking over. Just makes me wonder."

"Well, she'd not, which reminds me, you'll have to wear a suit at the airport." That was delivered as a presidential decree. Dio was sure of that. 

"I hadn't thought of wearing anything else," he lied.

She snuggled in as close as her seatbelt would allow. "Oh darling, I love it when we are so sweet and cooperative."

Dio had a flash vision, and grinned:

The armed guard snapped to attention as grandma came out of first class at the top of the steps leading from the aircraft. The military band began playing. There were two people at the foot of the steps – the Prime Minister who saluted and Dio. He was dressed only in underpants. Grandma looked right past him, eyes hooded, as if he were the Invisible Man. Security took Dio away where he was flogged by a small hooded figure with Grandma's whip.

* * *

On a rainy Saturday morning, the scheduled meeting between Dio and Carra and  Philip and Ella was held at the farmhouse. It was time to haggle over furniture and bits and pieces.

"Enjoyable dinner the other night with Rod and Bess – we were really surprised to see you guys come in," Philip said.

"We were amazed to find that Bess is your half-sister, Dio," Ella said. "It truly is a small world. Now, to work; as you know, we've had a furniture dealer in and she's put price stickers on everything – junk through to articles of real value. We accept that you guys are going to take some of the pieces we have our eyes on."

Dio indicated to Carra to respond. "That's very helpful, Ella. It will speed things up; we spent a couple of Sunday afternoons wandering through the house, picking over things, and here's our list."

Ella hitched up her jeans. She had the sleeves of her cotton shirt rolled up and a red and white spotted scarf tying back her hair, looking ready for work. Normally quite elegant even in casual dress, she looked the modern version of a charlady from old English films.

The two men were almost in uniform – sandals, shorts, tee-shirts and caps while Carra wore sneakers and short socks, tight ragged bottom jeans shorts showing shapely legs (that Philip stared at until receiving Ella's elbow jolt) and a tight vertically striped sleeveless top. 

Earlier Dio had stared at the bun – he'd never seen Carra with her hair done up like that, though she often had it in a pony tail.

Ella and Philip studied the list at the kitchen table while Carra poured the coffee. Dio wandered off to the sitting room.

"You're taking everything from the sitting room," said Ella in surprise. 

"Yes, sorry," responded Carra, with Ella picking up the 'not negotiable' tone. 

Carra joined Dio and looking around the sitting room said: "You know we'll end up throwing out or selling a lot of this stuff, even good bits."

"I know, but we have the storage space. When we have built the sitting room looking out to the river, we can complete the recreation and then remove items until we get it looking right for us. It's really only a transition, as our memories of Alice will fade as will the significance of her generosity. All I wish is to retain this tiny sense that she is with us sometimes. I'm with you all the way, darling," Carra said, squeezing his hand.

Ella came into the room looking very serious. "Philip and I realize that you could have taken everything, just leaving us junk. So, your list is fine – with one exception. I had my heart on that chaise-lounge. You can see the price – I'm prepared to pay a thirty percent margin, more if I have to."

"Conference!" Carra smiled, walking Dio to the corner of the room.

She came back still grinning. "It's yours at the marked price. As well, Dio and I want to give you that cute low nursing chair in the spare bedroom – it looks as if it will be needed before too long."

"Oh darling, thank you," said Ella rushing Carra. They kissed and Ella turned and thanked Dio.

"You said it looks as if the nursing chair will be needed before too long. I'm not showing yet."

"Ah yes you are, sweetie – only just. You need bigger jeans, don't you think?"

"Well, putting them on this morning that same thought occurred to me but, I thought that I'd just been eating a bit too much lately. I'm showing, I'm showing. I'm so happy! We'd been trying for four years, you know."

"Gosh, ten minutes is long enough for me."

"Shut up, Dio," Carra giggled.

"You tell him, Carra," laughed Ella.

Philip stood by, looking impatient. At last he had their attention.

"The painting above the cocktail cabinet – have you seen the price that our appraiser put on that? She cautioned it was only a 'guesstimate.' She recommended it be sent to a dealer in London."

"Yes, it's not as high as our appraiser placed on it, and similarly he said that it needs to be offered on the international market," Carra said. "But it's not for sale."

"Do you mind telling me why?" asked Philip curiously. "I'll accept being told to mind my own business."

Dio told them why there were retaining everything in that room.

"Cripes, you only knew the woman for five minutes and now you're going to erect a shrine in memory of her. That staggers me."

That comment seemed to jolt Carra but Dio was no offended.

"Philip, you grew up with well-off and socially accepted parents. I did not. In fact until mum died and left me the house I had been on the bones of my ass all my life and I might add, because of my mother's notorious activity, shunned by some people including our minister."

"I didn't know that," Carra said, aghast.

"Really, in my life until Carra and her family came along, I only had mum, my school friends, some running club members and at high school one teacher who took a paternal interest in me who involved me in his family a little before his wife walked out on him, taking the children."

Carra cut in. "So that's why you have such strong attachment to your old school friends?"

Dio did not reply.

"I met Alice and in those so called five minutes you spoke about Philip, I talked to her quite a bit. I learned that she was dying and she sort of bared her soul to me – that's the only way I can put it. To my surprise, I found she was not afraid of dying but she confessed to being a very lonely person since her father's illness and eventual death. She'd suffered severe sickness in childhood which left her physically weakened, so that became the reason for her being something of a recluse."

"I didn't know that," said Carra, with real concern.

"I'm telling you now, love. So listen."

Carra went to him and lifted his arm over her shoulder and snuggled in.

"Alice said they'd had friends, lots of them, but after her father died they begin to thin, until virtually none who remained in the district visited her any longer. Trades people would take orders over the phone and make deliveries so it became increasingly less necessary to go out. Her legs began giving her trouble, so she stopped driving.

"One winter she was struck by 'flu and only received treatment when her grocer – a woman called Meg – was alerted after not receiving Alice's regular phoned order. Meg phoned Alice but there was no reply. Meg came out here on the run. She climbed in through a window and found Alice in a poor state, and had her taken to hospital."

"Good old Meg, my corner grocer," said Carra quietly, and felt the increased pressure of Dio's hug.

"A tragedy was prevented, but another had occurred during Alice's illness. Her dog in its kennel by the back door had died of starvation, as she had ceased going out to feed it. The electricity meter reader, who'd know her father and had purchased one of his residential building sites, happened to be a dog lover. He found the dog, buried it and went to the hospital and delivered the bad news.

"Alice told me he said her dog Digger had died of old age, but she realized what the cause of death would have been, and that saddened her greatly. She said it had been all downhill since then and she prepared for her death. I said I would visit her again, and did so every Wednesday afternoon until she died. She died alone, but that would not have worried Alice and it did not sadden me unduly, as it was a release for her, as they say. Philip, call it a shrine if you wish – actually that's a rather a nice name. But I will regard it as a home for Alice should she choose to use it."

Philip had turned pale.

"You mean spiritually?"

"Yes."

"Have you felt her presence yet?"

"Yes."

"Jesus!"

"I feel she just wants to be with us enjoying her things."

"You Carra – have you seen or felt anything?" asked Ella, looking very motherly.

"Yes, although I'd met her but once. I distinctly felt her presence."

"I don't know if I'd be keen about her visiting us here," Philip said nervously.

Carra smiled and told him not to worry. "I feel she came to see Dio, not the house. He is a free spirit and is receptive to her."

"How do you know that?" Dio asked, surprised.

"Mama took me to see one of her friends who is a spiritualist. We described you to her at length – she was interested only in your background and attitudes. She asked about your beliefs but we weren't much help there. I then told her that I regarded you as a free spirit in a loose sort of way, and she said she'd already come to that conclusion herself. She emphasized that what she had told us was only her opinion – her belief – and no, she did not have to see you."

"You hadn't told me you'd done that?"

"You don't always tell me everything. Anyway," Carra said with a sly smile, "I'll say what you say: I'm telling you now."

"Well, thanks for sharing that with us, guys," said Philip. "I apologize for my insensitive remarks and regret that it was I who did not befriend Alice and have her bequeath me some of her wealth. I found her to be a very nice old lady – and lonely, definitely."

"Don't worry, love," Ella said. "She would not have bonded with you as she did with Dio."

"Why not?"

"Because you are not a free spirit."

"How can you say that?"

"Because you are so predictable and basically conservative," Ella said very kindly, "and no way do you have an openly receptive mind."

The discussion developed on what is a free spirit.

"One's ability to let their soul soar," was Ella's contribution, as a churchgoer.

Philip had no idea, he wasn't even sure he'd heard the term before.

Dio scratched the back of his neck. "Funny, but until now I'd never really thought about it. I seem to sometimes feel as if I am free; it's almost as if I am outside my body. For example, when I'm barreling down a straight road in the ute, stereo blaring and perhaps trying to sing-along I begin to experience this sense of freedom and my mind just drifts off and I think and imagine all sorts of things."

"I experience that looseness of feeling," said Philip. "But then I jerk back, knowing that I have to concentrate on my driving."

"I bet Dio doesn't have to do that," Ella said. "He will be on autopilot."

They all laughed.

"Carra?" invited Ella.

"Well, none of us are expert enough to answer the question property. But I think Dio's explanation must come close to it. He does have the ability to get past the usual mental barriers that we all have – they are called mindsets, I believe. In being able to go beyond mindsets he is pretty fearless and self-reliant because he has this deep-seat confidence within himself. Because of this, he can be bloody infuriating at times, but it's why I love him so much. Oh, I've done it again – I have not told Dio this. My mother has this ability to 'see' into people a bit, and her mother has it more highly developed. Mama told me after she first met Dio that I would never have to feel afraid of him as there is no malice or real anger within him."

"Well, a most interesting discussion," Philip said, nervously thinking what Carra's mum would see inside him. "We've got the stuff in the two sheds to look at."

"Yeah," said Dio. "What you two should do is to put everything you want in the house in the lounge and main bedroom, and we'll have everything else cleared away on Friday. For junk here and down in the sheds that you would like, you will pay nothing, items of value we would accept the price placed on them by your appraiser, if that's alright with you Carra."

"That's fine."

"But don't you want to haggle?" Ella asked, quite disappointed. "I was really looking forward to going head to head with you two."

"What about Philip?" Carra asked.

"He's expert at giving advice because his mind works that way. But haggling is all about mental toughness and verbal agility and of course bluff. Philip wouldn't even have a clue of what I'm talking about in saying that. He always pays the asking price and in doing so half-expects to be asked to pay more."

"That's all bullshit, expectant mums are great benders of the truth," Philip laughed, rubbing his wife on the belly.

* * * 

Between jobs Dio checked phone messages. One caller was Louise Walters.

"Hi," he said softly when she answered. "I have been neglecting you but I blame it on pressure of work."

"I know; it comes through putting down the anchor."

"It had to happen some time."

"Agreed; I was astonished to get an invitation to the wedding."

"We'll always be close friends, Louise."

At that Louise burst into tears. Dio took the phone from his ear and looked at it. What should he do?

Louise solved that problem for him. "I'm sorry. It's just that I miss being with you. You use to make me laugh and feel so good about myself, like no-one else can do, not even my mother and certainly not Frank."

"How is he?"

"Great and he's been really good to me lately. He's gone into partnership with the Williams brothers in their waste collection business. They're really going well."

"That's nice to hear. Frank is a good solid bloke, Louise. He'll make a wonderful father."

"I think so too. By the way we'll have one soon – we have been accepted as being suitable to adopt a baby."

"That's wonderful, congratulations Louise. And you'll be a natural as a mother, there's so much love in you and you've got that yahoo streak in you that your kids will love."

"Thanks Dio. It's so lovely talking to you again. Actually, my reason for calling is to ask what are you two doing next Thursday night?"

"Chasing my fiancée around the bedroom I would hope. Oops, sorry, that is not a sensitive comment."

"That's fine, Dio – she has you now."

"I'm really sorry, Louise. I'm so thick at times."

"I'll vomit if you grovel any more."

"Right – that's what I like to hear. So, what's special about Thursday?" he asked, watching a logging truck rumble past.

"Sarisha and I want to organize an evening for you with some of our old buddies and their partners. Carra is invited, of course."

"That sounds lovely. Thanks. Where do we meet?

"Never you mind; someone will come to pick you up at 8:00. Dress is neat casual."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 06



"My mum used to say that."

"I know, and I heard her saying it when we were young teenagers."

"It will be nice having a yarn with you guys again."

"I don't think you've got the quite right, Dio."

"What do you mean?"

There was a click. Louise had disconnected.

The next few days Dio worked on the run, glad to have retained his fitness. 

The architects had managed to get their redevelopment plans of the old school property processed speedily in return for Dio agreeing to a Council request to have the old school gates retained and registered with a preservation order to commemorate the establishment of the school in 1910. Although the imposing arched gateway was not erected until the 1950s, with war memorial plaques added, Carra had been against demolition anyway. The only other requirements that the Council imposed were a compulsory stop to be provided at the exit to be used by the courier firm, and the provision of some perimeter gardens as a contribution to the beautification of the area. Carra had intended doing that, as well as planting specimen trees to break up the great expanses of concrete and bitumen.

On Friday, four truckloads of furniture, an assortment of tools and household effects and junk were unloaded into the old school hall and Dio and Carra worked several evenings sorting everything out. First priority was having the valuable items they were keeping professional wrapped and taken to secure storage. The old MG had been taken to Hackett.

When laying out everything was completed Kate, advertised "a clearance of quality furniture and junk of interest" for Saturday morning. They were amazed at the big turnout of people. Many had queue for the opening time of 8:00 and most were prepared to pay good prices for 'junk' without attempting to haggle.

When they closed the doors at noon, mainly only high valued items remained. Dio, looking at what was left, scratched his head and asked, "What now? Carra wasn't sure but their problem over this disappeared.

Dio answered a knock. An elderly woman in an old-fashioned tweed suit asked if she could come in and talk. "I'm Kitty Armstrong," she said. I valued the items at the homestead for Ella Battersby. I am interested in taking everything that has not sold – except junk of course."

"Oh, that's no problem – junk went first."

"Ah yes, it's amazing what prices things will fetch when there are people scrambling to buy junk," smiled the dealer.

She walked quickly around the hall and returned to where Dio and Carra where counting banknotes into one hundred dollar lots.

"I'll pay you five thousand for the lot and have a lorry around at two o'clock to cart it all away."

"Well," began Dio, thinking it had been a long time since he heard the word 'lorry'. 

"Five and a half."

Carra was nodding to him. Did that mean the dealer was getting close? Or did she mean take the money and run?"

"You're a tough negotiator, Mr Wellington. Six and I'm afraid that's it."

"It's all yours," Carra intervened. "We could get more perhaps, but it would be a long, messy process and I've got a wedding to go to."

"Oh, that's nice dear," said Mrs Armstrong, opening her handbag and pulling out rolls of banknotes. "It's a fine afternoon for a wedding."

"No, I mean my own wedding next Saturday."

"Oh my goodness, congratulations. Here you are. Look, I'm just popping out to the car for a moment."

She returned a couple of minutes later with a small painting, wrapped in canvass.

"You are giving me your furniture and other valuables for a very good price. It also pleases me that you two are to be married, because so many young people today are not making that commitment. I had to buy this painting to get two others I wanted, so I am happy to give it to you as a wedding gift. It's a Barrymore, so value it. But it's modern style. I prefer handling more traditional paintings."

Carra watched excitedly as Mrs Armstrong removed the covering and held up the painting. 

It was a contemporary-style painting of a lake, with the background hills cleared of trees and now appearing to be sand dunes. But it was unmistakably their lake. In the left foreground was Lady Lakeside just leaving the jetty but the artist had made Lakeside Manor smaller and statelier.

"That's where we are getting married, at Lakeside Manor."

"Well I never. How wonderful."

"Thank you indeed, Mrs Armstrong. By the way, is there a Mr Armstrong?"

"There certainly is, he's at golf today. Why do you ask?"

"I wondered if he was in business with you," Carra said, sounding rather vague.

"Oh yes, he is in the business with me. He's useful for lifting things."

After Mrs Armstrong had left Dio said: "You're going to invite them to the wedding, aren't you."

"Yes, and will have them as your guests. It will please mama to see your side built up a bit."

"Why are you asking them? She gave you a painting but she'll make a killing over that stuff she'd brought from us."

"Perhaps, but she didn't have to give us that painting. I don't know much about modern art but it has the look of class – it could easily be worth more than a thousand dollars."

"What? But it's small."

"Is there some logic to that reasoning? I can remember reading of a postage stamp selling for more than two and a quarter million dollars – and that was probably US dollars – AND it was a used stamp!"

"Well, I'll go and kick my toe."

"What does that mean?"

"Dunno, just something mum used to say when she was surprised."

"How cute. I think what we'll have to do is to have part of the house furnished in contemporary old so that Alice's furniture looks as if it should be there, and the other part contemporary new so new possession this painting look as if they belong."

"Dress 'neat informal', furnish 'contemporary old' – where do these odd terms come from?"

Carra looked at him sympathetically.

"They are made up as needed – everyone knows what they mean."

"Well, I don't."

"Then almost everyone. There always will be people needing time to get up to speed."

Dio looked at Carra through narrowing eyes. "Are you trying to wind me up?"

She grinned. "Don't you dare make me run; I might drop the painting and bang will go my opportunity of furnishing contemporary modern."

Carra and Dio were ready leave just before 8:00 and were chatting in the lounge. She looked so lovely that Dio was wishing they were staying home that evening, but then she wouldn't have been dressed up and looking quite so beautiful.

"What are you grinning as?"

"I was thinking you look beautiful."

"And that makes you grin."

"Yes."

"Oh, come here my little boy but don't you dare spoil my make-up."

The doorbell went, so instead of heading towards Carra, Dio wheeled and went to answer the caller. Their driver had arrived, dressed immaculately in a light grey suit, white shirt and blue and white polka-dotted tie.

"Mr Wellington?"

Dio nodded.

"Good evening. You car has arrived sir."

"Goodness," said Carra, quite taken aback when seeing the driver. "Just look at you."

The driver didn't freak out as Dio had expected. Instead he addressed Carra: "Thank you madam. This way please."

Dio began to wonder if a stretched limo would be waiting for them; it wasn't but the car was a black top of the line Falcon.

The driver opened the rear door and said, "You first sir – kindly slide across and then madam shall follow." The door clunked shut with a quality sound that made Dio stupidly think where the champagne was.

As the driver did up his seat belt he said, "You will find two mini bottles of champagne in the cooler right in front of you, sir. Enjoy."

"Bloody hell," said Dio. "I'm gob smacked."

"Well, don't forget to tell your two old girlfriends that. They will be delighted." Sipping champagne Dio's spark returned.

"Where are we going to, James?"

"My name is Jules, sir. We are going to Club Malibu, sir. It is a private function and I am advised that you and madam are guests of honor."

Dio's eyes glazed. They were doing this for him? The girls had hired a private room.

Carra sensed what was up. "Do you know how many people are attending?"

"I heard Mrs Walters tell an attractive dark-skinned lady there would be eighty-two people."

Carra leaned over and began scratching the back of Dio's head. "I'll do the scratching for you," she giggled. "You're thinking you don't have that many friends, aren't you. Well, half of them will be partners."

"But even half..."

"Oh come on, Dio, you are an impressionable guy; people like you. Why do you think I took to you?"

"Because you didn't have a partner to go with you to that dance."

Carra's face changed to sunset pink. She was glad it was reasonably dark in the back of the car, only two pillar lights shining illuminating the drinks table.

"Well, actually I am sorry if I left you with that impression. I had arranged to go with Owen from planning, but on that night when I met you when you changed my car tire I had the crazy thought of asking you. Owen wasn't upset when I told him and said he preferred the box of chocolates I gave him to attending a dance for old crocks."

"Hmm. I believe that is possibly an example of deceptive behavior, certainly willful failure to disclose vital information."

"My God, you're angry at me."

Dio laughed, and squeezed her hand. "Not at all. As you say, I think it's cute you did it and marvel that you haven't told me until now. You're a smooth operator, Carra Fleming."

They heard the driver speaking on his phone.

"Madam, we are less than a minute away. Very good. Over and out."

Jules said, "Excuse me, I just phoned Mrs Walters. She and a Mrs Sharma will be on the pavement to greet you as we arrive."

It was a wonderful evening for Dio, and Carra enjoyed it immensely, almost doubling her knowledge about Dio in just one evening.

During formalities, speakers were on notice to say only nice things.

Duke Waters told the assembly how he and Dio took up newspaper delivery rounds so that they could buy and pay off the two best looking bikes that had ever graced the window of Bert Oaks' cycle shop up to that time".

Sarisha said shyly that Dio had been her first real boyfriend.

"Explain real," someone shouted. "He kissed me," Sarisha said, head bowed but everyone could see that she was smiling.

Skinny' Felder – still thin – spoke about the street fight between boys from their school and 'the Catholic boys'.

"Dio was held in awe at the end of that clash because he had the bloodiest nose. But he also ended up in big trouble for breaking some kid's wrist. However it was decided no foul play was involved – that the injury occurred because Dio had such a thick skull."

Everyone laughed at that comment and Louise was shouted down when she reminded everyone to say only nice things.

'Splodge' Mason, a super rich pharmacist, said that at high school he was not particularly popular with girls at the milk bar meetings after school because he was fat. "Dio spread it around that I was on a special diet as I had been born with a hole in my heart and was being built up pending surgery. He'd read about that somewhere. Suddenly at least three girls who wanted to be nurses were taking a particular interest in me and I eventually married one of them – Margaret who is beside me here. She became a nursing sister and now manages one of our pharmacies. She now says fat men are best, though I don't quite know what that means. We thank you Dio."

Celina told them that Dio had brought her and his best mate Mike together, though in explaining the story she withheld the bit about her panties. "He's our best friend," she said, sobbing.

And so it went on until finally it was time for Louise to tell her story.

"As a youngster I was very shy, and Dio helped my through me early days at school. Then later when my mother found out about this friendship she forbade me to have anything to do with him because she said his mother was not nice. I told Dio this and he was not at all upset. I remember him saying to come and meet his mother and then make up my own mind. I was too scared to go to his house because of what my mother had said, but met his mother and sat with them at a school picnic. Mrs Wellington was so lovely I wished that my mother could be even half as nice. I told Dio this – we would have probably been about eight at that time. He said, 'We can't change the mothers we have– usually all mothers are nice in some way'. I later came to regard that comment as very profound and went on to find my mother possessed qualities of value. Those of you sharing our high school days will remember that Dio and I became a really big item. They were wonderful days and I adored him but it was not to be. I believe that I became too possessive and his mind was wide open and he wanted to soar. I didn't know why he was like that, and he couldn't explain it either. My husband Frank here beside me, knows about Dio and me. They relate very well and Frank once told me he can understand why I like Dio so much. He said an astonishing thing – 'You know, Louise, you two are so wrong for each other, I can see that'. Then he added words that went something like this, 'You know, you two appear to be communicating when you're not talking or even looking at each other'. I love them both, dearly," said Louise. 

Then looking around the room she said, "Sarisha and I thank you all for coming tonight. It's has the makings of being a memorable reunion."

Louise received a standing ovation, and sat there, smiling through her tears.

"Dio, Dio, Dio" the diners chanted.

He stood, frowning. "Never in the history of mankind has so much crap been uttered in a single evening, but I had to admit that some of it is true. I have bounced my way through life, generally being pretty pleased with myself, and somehow I seemed to find that I was no longer alone, and that kids and eventually right through to adults seemed to enjoy my company. Okay, I was good at some things, such as shooting off at the mouth about some of the things that twirl around in my head, and I grabbed a little dollop of local fame by becoming a half-decent distant runner. Those of you who really know me are aware that I have remained close to Louise, Sarisha, Celina and of course Mike but there is one person not here tonight that for the first-time in my life made me realize that you can establish a friendship based on virtually nothing. The only link between this girl and me was that I was her older sister's boyfriend. She was Sarisha's sister, Kamala, who is now a lecturer in medicine in Dunedin. She saw me practicing sprints, so challenged me to a race, and won. I was devastated, being beaten by a girl, and a girl younger than me at that. She told me not to worry, that I could but only get better. She suggested I might be better at running longer distances. For the next ten months, without attempting any competitive running, I practiced most evening, and on most of those occasions Kamala was there, timing me, offering encouragement. I asked her why she was doing it, and she said she wanted to see if I could achieve my goals. I said she should be away with her friends, and she replied she really didn't have out-of-school friends. I asked her was I a friend, and she said yes."

Dio scratched the back of his head. "That shook me, I had offered her nothing, had nothing to give. Yet she considered herself a friend. It was then I realized just how tentative, how fragile the foundation of a friendship can be. I didn't appreciate it at that young age, but in thinking about that later I realized that in producing that thought about friendship I'd generated my first profound thought about relationships. Thank you everyone for honoring me like this. Carra, my wife-soon-to-be sitting beside me, will be lapping this up, hearing all the exaggerations and half-truths about me. My deepest appreciation to Louise and Sarisha; I ask everyone to stand and to acknowledge those two lovely women in a toast to friendship."

"That was lovely, Dio," Carra said as people stood to drink the toast. "No wonder people like you."

* * *

Dio groaned himself awake in answer to the alarm clock at 7:00 next day. That stirring had opened the glacial cracks in his head into fissures and he groaned loudly, but no dulcet words of sympathy were forthcoming. 

He gingerly sat up, surprised that his head felt no worse, and turned to look at Carra. She was flat on her back, snoring gently, almost like hiccups. He wondered if that's what they were because he'd never heard her snore before. He remembered what had happened when the restaurant people had announced that the amount of money set aside for drinks had been exhausted.

"Dio will shout!" Carra had shouted brightly. "I'd like a Smooth Mama cocktail, please Dio. Only one of the bar staff had heard of it before and she unwisely said, "Nice choice, madam." 

"Smooth Mama's someone shouted and everyone decided to try the drink. 

Then there was another round, with a few people dropping out, and then another and Dio's last memory was the barmaid saying to him conspiratorially, "This is going to be a bumper night sir, perhaps you should hand me your card now."

"Sitting on the bed, Dio tried to think. "A card, what's a card?" He could not remember. He went into the shower and eventually found the taps and decided to have it cold, simply because that was the tap in his hand. It was cold, bloody cold he croaked, but he emerged feeling much better.

Breakfast consisted of three pieces of unbuttered white bread and a glass of milk, followed by three glasses of water. Click! His mind engaged into gear. The card he'd worried about earlier was his credit card, and saucy Susan the barmaid had said to him, "That deduction off your card might be a record for this bar for this whole year, Oh yeah!" He remembered saying what a cute way of saying his name, and she telling him that she was not working this Saturday evening and Carra clutching him by the arm and telling him that her four cocktails were now decorating the floor of the women's rest room. Then he pictured it all. He was standing there, swaying, with Carra trying to go to sleep clinging on to his arm. "Taxi!" he had called, waving his arm, quite forgetting they were on the first floor and still inside. "No taxi, I shall drive you home dear one," – or words to that effect Louise had said, trying to hold husband Frank steady. "Oh dear," she'd said, as she and Frank sank to the floor. 

"What a disgusting night of self-flagellation," he summarized, undecided at whether to brush his teeth or go to the toilet. Being a very heavy 'morning after' he was amazed that he'd being able to think of 'self-flagellation' let alone say it.

The phone rang. It was Philip's personal assistant, Angela Greenstein.

"Philip is not back until tomorrow and there are two men here down from the north-west inquiring about buying franchises. Can you come in?"

"Yes."

"I beg you pardon."

"Yes."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Right – you are making sounds that certainly don't sound like yes. Were you out of the town last night?"

"Yes."

"That also sounded like a yes. Dio, I would recommend that you come in by cab. It appears that you are not fit to drive."

In the cab Dio knew they were not advanced enough to sign up new franchisees. The whole concept was to provide new recruits with everything at their fingertips to allow them to become productive immediately, freeing them from the start-up hassles including the need to develop business systems.

At a pinch, these two applicants might scrape through. It would depend on just how ready they were and their willingness to accept a premature launch into business. Fortunately, Felix had completed the business model which Dio and Selby had approved and Ronnie's computerized accounting system for the company was already being used by Dio, Selby and the other franchisee Art Lobb.




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 06



Really, the only missing elements were documentation of the initial and ongoing training programs and the operation manual, all of which were currently being compiled. For the time being, Selby's cell phone would be the telephone help-line and they would continue to provide the merchandising services on the fly. 

All in all, Mrs Wellington was going to be a busy girl as soon as she arrived back from her honeymoon, bringing the whole operation together as an integrated unit, thought Dio. The addition of two more franchisees would allow the company to iron-out problems before the franchising business was properly launched.

"It is half-baked operations starting off like this that help to give franchising a bad name," Dio mused.

"Pardon me, I don't quite understand," replied the elderly taxi driver. "We are a cooperative and really the system is well-tried and proven."

"Sorry," Dio apologized. "I was thinking out aloud. I was meaning my own franchising business."

"Oh, you going into the hamburger business – or is it lawn mowing?"

"Computer support."

"Oh, don't know much about computers though the kids are absolutely great at computer games. Beat me every time. I'd rather have cards or knuckle bones any day."



TO BE CONTINUED



Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 07



The dreaded mother/grandmother from Argentina arrives and Cal survives, thanks to nimble thinking by Dio and the wedding ends in an unexpected revelation for Cal, Carra and Dio.

*

Arriving at the office Dio was briefed by Angela, who immediately handed him a strong cup of black coffee. He learned that the two mid-aged men were from Sandhurst Downs, a huge area of plains and gently rolling land upcountry, bordered by mountain ranges roughly in the shape of a triangle. In fact the area was known locally as 'The Triangle'.

The men delivered rural mail over the entire area, which generally took them from 7:00 to 2:00. Angela told Dio that two years ago the men had decided to use the remainder of their afternoons productively and had studied computer technology by correspondence, gaining certificates from the recognized training establishment. They had then hired a local communications officer who'd worked as a computer repair technician to tutor them in hardware maintenance skills. Just as Dio had done, they completed this training by each building their own personal computer.

Angela flitted around him, asking if he were feeling any better. He nodded and she stood behind him massaging his neck and shoulders. She was good, very good in fact; little wonder Philip had strayed. Finishing that, she came around in front of him, bending down, her grey eyes looking most concerned. She really was attractive and her dress front really was very loose.

"Can you cope, or should I send you home and tell them to come back this afternoon?"

"I'm fine. I felt like shit when I walked in but somehow you have worked a small miracle. I'm nine-tenths back to normal. You're amazing."

"Do you really think so," Angela said, studying him thoughtfully.

"Um, there are four of us as I'll get Selby to come in. May we use Philip's office?"

"Yes, certainly; off you go and I'll wheel your clients in."

Dio thank her profusely and was relieved to find 'that look' had gone from her face. She was her normal businesslike self again.

The two applicants were roughly alike – typical country blokes with basic haircuts, weather-beaten faces, very firm handshakes and dressed in standard rural 'best gear' of fawn cotton drill trousers, brown casual shoes, multi-colored open-neck shirts and jerkins – one was plain, the other leather-trimmed thus avoiding being identically dressed.

Dio's immediate assessment was that they looked good, dependable, upfront guys who'd come gunnin' for you if they thought you were taking them for a ride.

Ralph Levett was fair-hair, balding from the temples, with a crooked grin and piercing blue eyes, a slight potbelly indicating he either sat down at his job or drank beer in quantity, or both. He came in first, sat down first and spoke first, indicating leadership – at least of the two-man team.

Ian James was of similar average build, dark hair and plenty of it, a blue jowl, watery and red-rimmed green eyes, a sharp nose and very long fingers that would be useful for playing a keyboard or a guitar or picking up pins from the floor if his wife was a dressmaker. Dio shook his head, to clear it; why was he thinking such nonsense about long fingers?

Ralph was already well into explaining why they wanted franchises.

"So, we have gained this expertise and were not sure how to use it. I advertised in the  offering to repair computers but did not get a single reply. Then Ian made a break through. Tell him Ian."

Ian explained that a cousin of Philip Battersby had told him that Philip was connected with a company that was about to start franchising a computer servicing business. He'd phoned Philip who'd explained what was involved, but they hadn't made an appointment to see him; they had just assumed he'd be working in his office when they arrived

"We came down last night and have people doing our deliveries for us today," he explained. 

"Yeah, our first time staying in a motel," Ralph said.

Dio remained nervous. "Setting up a franchise operation involves a lot of money." 

"Don't we know," Ralph said almost belligerently. "Almost a bloody rip off if you ask me. But we have the money from our nervous bank manager. That together with our cash inputs comes to the required amount – fifty-four grand each, according to what Philip told me. We need the vans because our mail delivery contracts prevent us from using our official delivery vans for anything other than the mail service and personal transport."

"Philip is back in the morning," Dio said, hoping they would buy his attempt of buck-passing.

"We are going back home this afternoon," Ralph replied, uncompromisingly.

"Right," said Dio. "Bear with me for a moment." 

He phoned Selby Brown and ask what was he doing.

"Right now I'm parked on the roadside having a pie and a coke," laughed Selby.

"Any chance of coming in?"

"When?"

"Now."

"Shit, that's a bit sudden."

"Or within an hour or two?"

"No, I'll come now. Where to?"

"The coffee shop opposite Philip's office – we've got two potential franchisees to assess."

"Wow! Two! You lucky bugger. See you in fifteen."

Dio said the applicants, "Selby our assessor will be here in fifteen minutes. He's a franchisee himself and is employed on contract by the company to assess new applicants. If you are what you say you are there should be no problem, and if he passes you it's just a matter of completing the paperwork, getting your vehicles delivered and the stationery etcetera printed with your names. While that is taking place you will be required to undergo three days of intensive training."

Ralph said that was fine.

"We have documented our backgrounds and have attached testimonials and certificates as well as our checks. Now, we wish to hear from you what your company will be offering us by way of technical support and business promotion. Franchising is a two-way deal, you know."

"Yes, I do know that. Look, let's hop across the road to the coffee shop and we can talk there. When Selby arrives he'll take you one at the time. The assessment, which includes some practical work, takes thirty to forty-five minutes. So all being well you will be on your way home early afternoon."

Dio thought this whole thing was a little bizarre. He didn't know anything about them, nor did he know if they really knew about the service in detail. What if there weren't enough people in The Triangle to make it profitable for two franchisees?

While waiting for their coffees, he asked how many people live in the region.

"Forty-eight thousand people – it's not the sticks, you know," Ralph said. "It comprises hundreds of farms of varying sizes and a number of small country towns and villages. But don't you worry. We've done market sampling, and know that there is an estimate thirty-six thousand computers in our region. If we get decent market promotion through you guys in our area we'll be right as rain. My brother is principal of a school in my area and his school board has agreed to me taking up the contract for looking after the school IT system providing I get the backup of a reputable firm – which I shall present as you guys. They pay and arm and a leg to have a guy come in from outside The Triangle to look after their computers, so are willing to trial me for six months. We both will have additional opportunities like this."

Both passed their assessments, easily.

"This will be a good test bed-for us for remote located franchisees," Selby told Dio quietly. "I was astonished to be told that there are almost fifty thousand people living in The Triangle. How on earth can two people deliver mail to all those dwellings?"

"They don't. The major of those people live in towns that have their individual mail delivery system. Our guys deliver to try rural folk but there are some others who do that as well."

"Gee, two in one blow," said Selby. "It's getting a bit like the tailor and seven flies."

"What tailor is that?"

"You've obviously had a hard night pal. We won't get into the Brothers Grimm story telling."

Selby handled the documentation process and briefed the two applicants further. He then called Dio and they took the two franchisees-in-waiting to lunch after which Dio would take them on to Ronnie for the reading and signing of contracts.

Over lunch, Dio took great care to explain what the two would be provided under the agreement and what their obligations would be.

"Our three current franchisees - who include me – are experienced Helpdesk operators so the transition for us was easy. We have not yet fully prepared ourselves for the indoctrination of further franchisees but you are insisting on proceeding," he said. "We will look after you carefully, and I will reduce the royalty payment that has been set at 6 percent of gross back to 3 percent for the first six months from the date of signing because our systems are not yet fully established. Do you understand this?"

"Yeah, yeah, Ralph replied. "We are experienced owner-operators you know and our wives are just itching to become involved in answering the phone calls and setting up appointment times as well as doing other administration. We also agreed with Selby to take the standard contract package with the cheapest van, keeping our costs of buying the franchise to fifty-four grand. We can always trade in on more up-market wheels if our businesses boom."

Ian also confirmed he understood the situation, and thanked Dio for making the concession on royalty payment. "Like we said earlier, we've done our homework and know that we have to promote ourselves once you've guys moved in with your opening promotion of us. Apparently your consultant Felix someone will prepare a folded A-3 promotional flyer and get printed the numbers we require as soon as we send our photographs to him."

"Good," said Dio, relieved. "You both appear have a good grasp of what's involved. During the three-day training sessions the company's undertaking will be explained, detailing what you have purchased including the van, promotional material and other marketing support and of course business support. Then your obligations will be discussed.

"When you come down for training could you bring a map of The Triangle, showing a dividing line that you both agree makes the mid boundary of your respective franchise area. The mountain ranges will be the other natural boundaries, one would assume. We will run off copies of the map for signing, appending a copy to the contract document."

Dio called for another round of beers.

The four men watched the smiling waitress clear the empties and place a full bottle in front of each of them.

As she walked off Ralph grinned.

"You lucky bastards, being in this environment all the time where waitresses don't wear bras and look right at you and speak so nicely. Up our way the waitress will stand, hands on hips chewing gum and ask, 'What do you fella's want – hurry up, I haven't all day'. Right Ian?"

"Damn right, Ralph. And did you see the size of them?"

"Um, didn't notice no bra or how big they were, did you Selby?" Dio asked.

"No," Selby said, also lying. "Like you I was too busy thinking about the look on these guys' faces when we hand across the keys of their vans. That is the moment that they'll really know they're on their way. I've agreed to spend a Friday on the job with them and their wives, just going over everything especially the accounting side. Then the boys and I are going on an overnight fishing trip, right boys."

"Yeah," said Ian, grinning. "You've got big 'uns in your restaurants, but wait until you see the size of our trout. You should come too, Dio."

"Dio can't," laughed Selby. "His mother wouldn't let him go."

The men from The Triangle looked at Dio curiously, but didn't query the comment as the waitress had arrived carrying four plates of steaks, eggs, tomatoes and chips.

* * *

With franchising developments, property dealings and business matters going off around him , topped with wedding distractions, Dio found he had less time to work on his own franchise business, which was not a problem. 

The personable and multi-talented Selby Brown and the quite shy but very efficient Art Lobb who worked the zone between Selby and Dio – were happy to take over his call-outs and work harder to wipe off their buy-in franchising costs faster.

At an early morning meeting it was agreed to leave this arrangement on a semi-permanent basis – that when the workload got too great for them Dio would sell his franchise to a new operator. 

He told Art that two new franchisees would soon be operating in The Triangle. Art looked thoughtful and said: "Would you consider paying us a finder's fee if we introduce likely people to the company who end up buying a franchise?

"Maybe," Dio responded.

"It would cut down processing time as we would only bother with guys with the background and dough, making them hot prospects."

"Sounds good. What are your thoughts Selby?"

"To be honest, we discussed this before you arrived. I really like Art's idea. It would be only short term because we would soon run out of local prospects. The real upside is we would build up a solid base around HQ before we launch into far-off regions."

"Right. So, ten bucks a throw?"

Ark looked shocked.

"Just kidding to see if you were awake, Art. What do you suggest?"

"Two hundred would be more like it."

"Selby?"

"I'd be happy with that, payable as travel or dining out vouchers."

"Art?"

"Good one."

"Right, agreed. Now roll these blokes in."

"I've got one outside right now."

"Jeez, that was presumptuous," Dio grinned.

"Nah, I haven't. Just winding you up."

"Have a nice day, fellows."

When Art and Selby had left the interview room at Philip's office, Dio went to reception and found that Philip was busy with a client. He told Angela what he wanted and she took him into her office and sat him down. She drew up a chair opposite him, and poised at the ready, notebook on her lap. When sitting down and crossing her legs, her skirt had ridden up but she made no effort to tug it down. Dio saw that she wore stockings and suspenders.

"Um, just a short note, no reason to go to this trouble," he said, looking at Angela then inadvertently flicking a look at her inner thigh again. When he looked back, her amber eyes were studying him.

Dio coughed and said: "To Philip from Dio...A $200 finder's fee is now payable to any franchisee, in cash or with vouchers if requested."

He coughed again.

"Oh, please add the date and thanks Angela," he said, and bolted. She didn't move, and at the door when he turned and waved she appeared to be pouting.

It was only 9:20 but Dio went over to Coffee Exotic, knowing that Celina and Mike would be up to their eyeballs. Celina was loading cakes into the display cabinet and leaned backwards to kiss him. Ever since his engagement she no longer kissed him so fully. He thought that was an unnecessary act of decorum as at least he was capable of trusting himself. He'd come to like her sloppy kisses and being in her vice-like embrace. On the other hand there was a gain – Celina and Carra had become very good friends.


"His Majesty is out the back."

"Hi Mike," said Dio, walking passed Susie and giving the lively teenager a slap on the rear.

"I like harder wallops than that, Dio," she called.

Mike was up to his elbows in scales and slivers of fish flesh.

"Just the man I want to see," Mike grunted, cutting off a fish head and rolling it off the bench into a plastic bin. "I won't kiss you, I'm messy," he cracked.

"He doesn't use that excuse with me," Susie laughed, pushing out her chest but that movement was wasted because Dio had not turned to acknowledge her wisecrack.

"How can I help?" Dio asked.

"Susie – fetch Mike a long black and two sugar cakes and bring them in here please love."

Susie began to pant loudly. "Oh my, what a great day I am having. Being able to make coffee with these little hands of mind for the great Dio Wellington; I wonder what he'll give me in return?"

"A ride in his ute to the Job Centre unless you move your ass."

"Oh, no worries. I'll do that for him," purred Susie.

Mike and Dio turned to watch her walk out.

"I don't know – these young girls today, all they seem to want to do is talk dirty," Mike said. "Not like in our younger days, eh mate?"

"Agreed. But it's mostly all talk is it?"

Mike suddenly found his protective mesh glove on the hand he was cutting against needed adjusting.

"Now, what was I going to talk to you about?" Having completed that little diversion, he suddenly recalled. "I know – I've had an offer of eight hundred bucks for the van. Initially I thought the shelia was going to charge me that to take it away. But she wants it for her father to drive around collecting boxes of vegetables that her pickers have lined up. She's been looking for a cheap four-wheel drive for weeks, and was elated when I told her it had lost its vitality. She said, 'And so has dad, and I don't want him tearing around like a teenager. A cheap something clapped out like him is all I want.' What a way to talk to strangers about your father."

"So you want me to help you look for a replacement?"

"Not exactly. I guess you've got some sort of deal with Mason Motors."

"Yeah, fleet owner's discount. I'm on the bottom rung at present. Oh, this is convenient: one transaction more would take me into the next level."

"Right then."

"Not quite. My agreement prohibits me from on-selling new vehicles."

"Fuck! I thought I had it all sorted. I know, you buy the van and lease it to me. I bet they haven't thought of blocking that dodge."

"Okay, I'll talk to Terry. It's his old man who is so rigid. If Terry says we can use that loophole then it's okay by me. We'll have to have a formal leasing agreement but I'll tell Ronnie it's at mates' rates."

Dio's morning refreshments arrive. "Here you are, Dio. Made with my own very pliable hands. Now, may I feed you?"

"Back to back to work," Susie. "The mid-morning rush will be hitting us soon. And you well know it's my unwritten rule no sex in here until the lunch crowds have gone."

"Does Celina know that rule Mike, or do only you me and Ivy?"

"Bugger off, Susie," grinned Mike, not looking at Dio. "Had my final fitting of my wedding suit, yesterday. It will be ready to pick up next Monday, so please tell your mother. I was rapt that she'd decided to pay for our suits."

"It surprised me too. But she's saying all the time that it's her wedding, so who was I to argue? She didn't actually offer – she said to go to Beamish the tailor and get your and your best man's and groomsman's suits made there. He has the instructions and every thing is taken care of."

"Yeah, Sly Beamish told me Madam Fleming was taking care of everything, from choice of material right through to and including payment. I thought for a moment Sly was going to call me 'Sir'. Sly and I used to raid orchards together when we were kids and pinch girls' knickers off clotheslines in night raids, so he knows that I'm no gentleman. But he's acting like a real tosser these days, with those fake airs and graces. That mother of yours, she must really be a pain in the butt?"

"No, she's quite a trick, really. She scares her husband shitless and her daughter treads carefully but I just stare her down and she seems to accept that I can't be kicked around. She's cool."

"She has a neat figure for an older dame, and she moves like silk. Have you ever thought of...?"

"That's a disgusting thought, Mike, and you know it!"

"Sorry Dio, I was right out of line."

"Yes, Mike is disgusting," Susie giggled.

"Disgusting, but we love him," Ivy laughed.

"How come you sheilas can't hear me when there's work to do but when I'm talking quietly to someone you can hear every word?"




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 07



"It's the way women are made," said Ivy. "We filter out rubbish like being told what to do."

"Yeah, why don't you continuing saying disgusting things to us, Mike? You won't offend us."

"Sorry once again, Dio," Mike whispered.

Dio punched him lightly on the arm and said he'd accepted the first apology. Everything was fine.

"I'll phone Terry and if it's a goer we'll meet him for a drink and you can give him your specification. They put out a cheaper model with a single disk CD player and only four speakers, smaller motor and a bench seat instead of bucket seats. That model is called the Workhorse. By that way, there is a great accessory for you – it comes with a removable liner for the back that can be easily hauled out to really wash it down."

"Dunno if I would need to go to the expense. One gets used to the smell of old vegetables and ancient fish. That's handy as well; the odors put people off from borrowing it."

"Get the model that will take a mattress," Susie said in a low voice that would not be heard beyond the kitchen. Mike pretended he had not heard the comment.

Dio left cheerfully. As he walked passed Susie stuck her butt out. He was tempted to whack it hard but knew that Mike would be watching for any ungentlemanly act. So he simply said, "Bye Susie. Thanks for morning tea; I'll pay on the way out."

Celina didn't want the money, so he left it on the counter.

"There was a lot of laughter and chatter in the kitchen," she said. "You do liven this place up when you call." 

"Yeah, great atmosphere."

"I though perhaps we would get more work done if we had all males in the kitchen, but I don't think Mike would like that."

"Probably not," replied Dio diplomatically. "Bye."

Mike would certainly not like that, thought Dio as he walked across to his ute. Mike would then have to find something else to do when Celina was away doing the banking in the afternoons.

At midday he picked up Carra from Ronnie's office. She messed up his hair before buckling herself in and sighed, "I've missed you. It's been five hours since I last saw you."

Dio beamed with pleasure. She really was so neat, he thought.

"So, where is this mystery trip taking us?"

"To see a bunch of old fellows. They are expecting us to join them for pies and coffee."

"But I don't eat bought pies."

"Well, it will be an interesting test of Hackett Schmidt's flexibility. He may have thoughtfully bought you women's stuff. We'll have to wait and see."

"Oh, Mr Schmidt? You have often talked about him and he seems so interesting. I seem to remember you telling me he flew in the Luftwaffe during the war.

Dio almost drove off the road.

"Cripes no, don't say that to him. I'd told you I'd mistakenly thought he was a German and was a German fighter pilot during the war. But it turns out he was born in this country and actually has never been to Germany. Please – don't mention anything about my goof."

"All right, keep calm. Perhaps if you didn't think up some of the crazy things you do you wouldn't put yourself at risk. Mr Schmidt has never been to Germany – never been to Germany. See, I've got that. Why are we going to see him?"

"Because he's got something of ours in his garage."

"Oh, he bought some of our junk at our clearing sale and now wants us to buy it back?"

"No, his mind does not work like that. His mind is orderly – he would not purchase things he might later regret."

"He doesn't sound an exciting person."

"I ought to ask him take you for a drive."

* * *

Carra felt apprehensive as Dio parked on the street. Hackett and his two buddies dressed in blue boiler suits, ere lined up outside the garage, holding battered tin mugs of coffee. Pies and sauce were on the table in front of them.

"C'mon, hurry," Hackett called. "Me and the boys are hungry."

"Oh, he's brought the missus, I thought it was only a threat," Hackett joked. "Right boys, put down your mug and wipe your hands. We are about to be introduced to a real lady."

The men were still wiping their hands as Dio approached with Carra walking half a step behind him. She thought the men looked really old and was wondered if they required special dentures to cope with the commercial pie crust.

"Darling," said Dio, reaching behind and pulling Carra forward. "Hackett Schmidt, this is my fiancée Carra Fleming."

Hackett didn't click his heels but bowed, saying, "I'm honored to meet you Miss Fleming. It's a lovely afternoon, made all the lovelier with your arrival."

"Yes indeed. Just the sort of weather for a jolly good dog-fight over the Rhine, I mean pines."

Hackett looked at her curiously while Dio hung his head and counted to twenty.

"Miss Fleming, while I served many years in the Air Force I never actually was in active service – I suspect because of the origins of my name. But there is little point in discussing that. It's my pleasure to introduce the two key members of my team: This over-fed chappie is an artist extraordinaire in metal turning and fitting, Billy Jobb. This little fella who looks as if he's never had a good feed in his life is Alfie Morrow, a consummate master mechanic. Boys, now is an appropriate time to mark Miss Fleming's arrival on-site."

Alfie disappeared for a moment and returned and said to Carra, "Ma'am, please accept this small custom built gift with our compliments. Hackett designed it, Billy created it and put it together and I polished it and did the wiring."

Billy carried out a stainless steel orb that sat in a stainless steel base. A magnifying mirror was attached to the orb and around the perimeter of the mirror was a protruding u-shaped channel in which sat a circular light tube.

"We thought we'd make something pretty good for you," Billy sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "We were told by 'The Hun' – that's what we call Hackett – that Dio, being a pretty neat guy, was bound to pick a babe a heap better than himself, so we rose to the occasion."

Carra was frantically thinking of what to say; what was it? Something to put out on a bird bath? 

Billy came to her rescue. "You plug it in and operate this side-dial on the base, which is a triode alternating current switch to allow you to control the intensity of the light level on the targeted area. Then, Hey Presto! You've got the coolest lamp to grace any dressing table. No hair or piece of dry skin or eruption will be safe!"

"How absolutely marvelous," Carra cooed. "What an original and inspirational piece of craftsmanship to grace my dressing table. Perhaps I could report in due course how effectively I am now dealing with skin eruptions." 

At that, the boiler-suited men immediately fell in love with her and laughed warmly.

"Now, Miss Fleming," Hackett said. "I actually knew you would be arriving but didn't presume you would like a rabbit pie. So I had the deli make these for you: sliced barbecue chicken on rye, just a scrapping of butter alternative, a pinch of salt and chopped parsley with two small squirts of fat-free Italian salad dressing that has just a tiny touch of garlic. I trust that is to you satisfaction."

"Yes indeed, Mr Schmidt."

"Good, but please call me Hackett."

"I'd love too, but only if all of you address me as Carra."

"Boys, Workshop Memo 104: Dio's missus to be called Carra. No exceptions."

"Thank you, Hackett," Carra said. "This sandwich is gorgeous."

"We could do you a bunny sandwich next time," Billy offered.

"No – chicken's fine, thank you Billy."

"Right, time for inspection. Eat and drink as you go," ordered Squadron Leader Hackett.

The team followed him into the garage.

"What is it – some kind of vehicle?" Carra asked.

Dio grinned but Hackett looked quite offended.

"Some kind of vehicle? This is a late 1952 MG TD Mk 2, or more correctly the disassembled pieces of a late 1952 MG TD Mk 2," Hackett said. The boxed side members and tubular cross-bracings of the chassis have been sand-blasted with some of the welds strengthened and a couple of rusted areas cut out and replaced. The imported slotted vent wheels have been cleaned up – they are in excellent condition – and new tires fitted. Billy and Alfie are working on reconditioning the engine, gearbox, running gear and suspension while I attend to the wooden frame, which is English ash. The woodwork also has to be reconditioned as there is a little bit of rot and some of the joints are loose."

That information assisted Carra to focus. "So this is indeed a car, but not like my MG."

"You have an MG?" Hackett asked in surprise.

"Yes, a 1979 roadster."

"Well this is also a MG, but consider it being a propeller pulled Douglas Dakota compared with your model which is more akin to a Fokker Friendship turbo-prop – a difference of two decades of engineering and technical development."

"I see, although I really don't see because it's all in pieces."

"Then you may wish to look at this poster over here."

Carra followed him into a recess containing a heavy workbench. On the wall above the bench was a manufacturer's poster of the original MG at the time of its introduction to the public.

"Oh!' exclaimed Carra, clapping her hands. "How dinky."

"I be damned – how dinky," muttered Hackett. 

"It's an affectionate term," Carra explained. "I love it and want to ride in it to feel like being back in the fifties bouncing on one's ass inside a piece of pure nostalgia."

"I'll be dammed. Bouncing on one's ass inside a piece of pure nostalgia? You should be writing adverts for international corporations, Carra," Hackett said, very impressed.

Carra clutched his arm.

"Would it be all right if I popped in to check on progress from time to time Hackett?"

"What do you think, boys?"

"Yes!" they chorused.

"But Carra, you don't have to bring Dio," Alfie ventured.

"Oh, hullo, Dio," Hackett said. "I'd forgotten you were here."

"Ha-ha," replied Dio, as the others laughed. He tossed the keys of the ute to Hackett. "Take Carra for a spin around the block. After listening to me talking about you she has the impression, for some reason, that you might not be a very exiting person. It was just an early sight-unseen impression, so don't blame her for that. You both appear to be bonding very well."

Hackett had caught the keys, licking his lips. "Right, come on Carra. Driving this little baby gives me so much pleasure. Come and see our neighborhood."

While the other two men stared, wondering why they hadn't been invited to have a drive, Dio called out to Hackett, "Remember – trucks, cops and school children."

"Right, Dio. I've no wish to frighten the missus."

Smoke from tire spin drifted across the driveway entrance as Hackett zoomed off around the block.

"The Hun thinks he's a Boy Racer," Billy commented.

"Listen," Dio said.

The three men heard the sound of protesting rubber of a vehicle being driven hard into a corner.

"That missus of yours will require a change of pants unless she's used to you driving that way," Alfie suggested.

"No, I'm an upright citizen," Dio grinned.

"Right, especially when it comes to chasing crooks – I read that newspaper article about you going after that tosser who robbed that taxi shelia," Billy said. "That was real he-man stuff."

He asked Dio where was going with the chair.

"I'm just putting it here at the door. I think someone will need it."

A couple of minutes later the roar of a V8 motor under heavy acceleration sounded. Then three quick gear changes could be heard, the vehicle slowing down to a throaty burble.

Hackett drove up the driveway, waving with delight. 

Dio went to the passenger's door, helped Carra out and walked her to the chair.

"Just sit and breathe deeply. You'll soon be okay," Dio fussed.

"My God, look at you," Hackett said with concern looking at Carra. "Are you all right? You're incredibly white and shaking. What did Dio do to you?"

"I shall be all right," Carra said weakly. "I've just been punished for thinking you sounded rather unexciting. Please, never drive me anywhere again, Hackett."

Alfie raced out with an ice pack and a fan. He put the pack behind Carra's neck and holding the fan right up to Carra's face, turned it to its highest setting.

"She'll be OK is a couple of ticks," he explained. "We used this technique on our drivers belting around short circuits on very hot days."

"But it's not an excessively hot day," Hackett said.

Alfie looked at him. "But it turned into a real scary day for this sweet lass. Both you and Dio should be ashamed of yourselves."

Hackett remained nonplussed, but Dio hung his head.

The lunch guests headed back to town. Carra, now fully recovered after having just managed to retain her lunch, was set to give Dio her first tongue-lashing, but began to smile, having thought of something even better.

"Darling," she said. "When I have just given birth to our first child and you are down on the floor dry retching, I shall call Dio! As poor you responds I shall ask you to come to me instantly and cut the placenta."

Dio looked horrified and Carra felt almost sorry whe'd been so tough on him as she watched his face pale.

"Do you want me to drive, darling?" she simpered.

* * *

The dreaded time for Cal had almost arrived. In a little over twenty-four hours he'd be face to face with his mother. The three Flemings and Dio had left a couple of hours after dawn for the city, a journey of four hours or more.

After checking into their hotel, Dio and Carra went to her parent's room where it was decided the girls would go shopping and the men could do anything they wished, except get drunk.

"Well, perhaps we'll go to see if we can find some women," Cal said with unaccustomed bravado in the presence of his wife.

"You poor darling," said Carmen, stepping forward and stroking his face. You are so nervous. Never mind, it will be all over early tomorrow morning."

"Poor daddy, you are so nervous," said Carra stepping to the other side and holding Cal's arm against her chest and kissing it.

Cal looked forlorn.

"Dio, for goodness sake take him off for a drink," said Carmen. "Cal, you must promise that you will drink only what and when Dio orders for you; promise!"

Cal nodded as signs of relief floated over his face.

"Dio," Carmen said menacing. "He's not to be delivered back to me drunk, not even in the slightest. Do you understand?" " Sure," Dio smiled.

"I mean it Dio. If I suspect he is the slightest bit drunk I shall really cut loose."

"For goodness sake, Carmen, he has the capacity of two normal men; a couple of drinks won't have any chance of kicking in."

"Thank you for that reassurance Dio. I don't want my Caleb with a hangover and acting like a wimp when meeting mama tomorrow morning. That would mean a victory to her, and I couldn't stand that."

"I'll give him a pep talk," Dio suggested.

"Oh will you darling," Carmen said, twirling away from her husband to finish right up against Dio. She reached up and waggled Dio's left ear. "It will be so good of you to do that."

"Mama!"

Carmen stepped away from Dio and innocently asked, "Yes darling?"

"Let's go shopping!" Carra said, glaring at Dio who wondered why he was getting 'the look' instead of Carmen.

The men looked for a bar, or more precisely 'a suitable bar' as Cal had prescribed. Dio had no idea how one could tell whether a bar was suitable. Did Cal mean clean or the beer was at the right temperature or did the bar have to offer just the right ambiance?

He found the answer was not at all complicated. While Dio was instructed to wait on the pavement, Cal went into six bars to check them out before coming to the entrance to the sixth bar, all smiles, and beckoned to Dio, to enter.

"The two women are real lookers. The place is empty so we'll have their undivided attention."

That's very interesting, Dio concluded. The quality of the beer and cleanliness of the premises are not how one judges whether the bar is 'suitable'. Once seated Cal immediately pushed aside Carmen's instructions and acted uncooperatively. "A limit of four light alcohol beers and one whisky. Bloody hell! Light beers taste like lamb's piss."

"I wouldn't know, lacking your experience of such close intimate contact with sheep."

Cal squared his shoulders and looked straight at the point of Dio's jaw.

"Steady on," cautioned Dio. "Hit me and we'll go to a coffee shop."

"You're psychopathic!"

My word, Dio thought. That's a big word for Cal to use. Getting away from his workplace and his dominant wife allows him to express himself more freely.

"Two Sentinels, please miss," Dio said.

Both men enjoyed watching the young woman bend to wipe their table. The expanse of suddenly revealed skin extended almost to her navel. They watched her walk away.

"You didn't have to drink light alcohol beer."

"I know, but I had to order the crap to prove to you that I am psychopathic."

"That's a bloody big word for you to use, boy," laughed Cal, jarring Di's teeth as he thumped him on the shoulder.

"This despotic bitch from Argentina," Dio said, turning serious. "When did you last see her?"

"We visited her four years ago."

"So, even after all those years since your wedding, she's still got the knife in you for taking her daughter away."

"Yes."

"Bloody hell."

"Well said!"

"No doubt you are expecting more of the same."

"Yep. There is no alternative, is there?"

Cal watched the barmaid walking over with their drinks. He smiled and she beamed at him. Dio hadn't notice this as he was looking out of the window but he assumed it would be happening. He heard the bottles being placed on the table and guessed that the barmaid would probably be pleased that a good tip was now being tucked into the top of her stocking. But he was wrong. Looking around, he saw Cal handing her five bucks, which she tucked into the pocket of her shirt, her eyes not leaving Cal's steady gaze. 


Thinking he was surplus to requirements, Dio turned to the window again, gazing at the city skyline.

"Is there?"

"Is there what?" Dio replied, when realizing that Cal was talking to him.

"Is there an alternative? She'll dominate me again, just as she's done in the past. I'm not scared of her, you know – I just try to be compliant to please Carmen."

"I'm sure that is the reason, Cal. Cheers."

"Cheers."

"Lamb's piss," grimaced Dio, and Cal roared with laughter.

"Cal, the only way out is to break the cycle between you and this Ogre of Las Pampas is that you have to take a stand."

"I don't think that's her title. Over there they address her in Spanish in a highfalutin title that goes on for at least ten seconds."

"That's simply window-dressing Cal, just like lipstick and make-up. Remove it and she's just like any other old dame. I want you to regard her as the Ogre of Las Pampas. For someone who's just managed to say highfalutin, you ought to be able to manage that."

"Ogre of Las Pampas. Ogre of Las Pampas. Shouldn't that be ogress?"

"Very good Cal, but let's not become pedantic. This woman's has balls, so ogre will be fine. Now Cal, listen very carefully. This is what I want you to do. You will have only one opportunity to break the cycle – the very first opportunity that presents itself. You must remember that she's a conniving ogre out to dominate you, to take your manhood away from you – with a knife perhaps."

"Jeeze, Dio. Lay off a bit will you; I value my gear."

"Right, then do everything to protect it. She will come off that plane saying to herself, 'One tight squeeze of that dog Caleb Fleming's nuts and he'd all mine for the duration. Got that?"

Cal nodded, wide-eyed.

"Say it Cal."

"At the very first opportunity before she squeezes my gear I'm going to break free by mortifying her and thereafter she will lay off me and treat me with respect."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 07



"Good boy Cal. That's it, exactly. You've just got to believe in yourself, visualize your goal and you will achieve it."

Cal looked at him gratefully.

"Thanks Dio. That should be a great help. You know, when we first met we gave you a shit of a time. I'm ashamed about that. I know Carmen feels the same way but that so-called Spanish pride in her blood will not allow her to say she's sorry. But she's trying to make it up, that's why she's gone overboard trying to deliver a perfect wedding. It's going great having you as a son, mate."

Dio swung back to look out of the window, feeling an emotional welling coming on. "Thanks Cal. That was quite a speech. Very much appreciated; I better order you a real beer."

"No thanks mate. I've had a beer. Let's have the whisky and go. I suggest we walk through the shopping area and check out butts and legs."

"Do what?"

"Look for the best pair of legs and the best butt."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we're on holiday."

"So we are. Right – one whisky and on to judging. It should pass the time rather quickly."

Cal looked positively cheerful. "I'll call Floppy Tits over for you to order our double whiskies."

"Cal, you become a delinquent when you get away from Carmen, don't you?"

"Wouldn't know what you're on about mate. But you watch tomorrow when I dish it out to her mama, Ogre of Las Pampas. She's the only woman alive who Carmen fears."

To Dio's surprise, Cal displayed exceptional talent at picking out best ass and best legged women. He could pick likely candidates when they were in the far distance, or were just coming out of shops side-on. Dio wasn't aware that it was a useful talent but it was an impressive skill, nonetheless. He had to wait until his likely candidates were almost upon him before he could reach his decision fairly.

Attempting to address his shortcomings, Dio declared Cal the winner and suggested they should switch to picking out the best busts.

"Nah, not really interested in tits," Cal said. "Here's a bookshop. Let's go in and look for adult comics."

As they walked into the shop Dio was surprised about Cal's lack of interest in feminine superstructure. Then it hit him: Carmen has only a modest bust but on the other hand really had lovely legs and a gorgeous...he stopped. Jeeze man! he chided, she's your mother; you shouldn't be thinking about the look of her ass!

When the men returned to the hotel they found both women in Carmen's bedroom, the room looking as if they were setting up a retail store.

"We've had a truly magnificent time," Carmen said.

"Hullo darling – we've excellend ourselves," Carra greeted Dio, happily.

Carmen stared at her disinterested husband who was standing reading one of his comics. She turned to Dio and said softly, "Well done. I knew I could trust you."

Carra had strained to hear that and found it difficult to accept: her mother admitting that a man was trustworthy? Mamma mia!

They went to late dinner at a cabaret restaurant. After dinner and another first floor show, Carmen grabbed Dio and led him to the floor, saying over her shoulder to her surprised daughter, "I'm just borrowing him for one dance."

Carra wave acknowledgement and grinned. She knew that Dio was in for a big surprise and that he would be terrified. She turned to talk to her father but he was engrossed, watching a gorgeous young woman at the edge of the dance floor adjusting her stockings. There was do doubt that they were stockings – her suspender belt was exposed. 

Carra was about to chastise her father but then realized that he was not the only person surrounding them who was watching the little unscheduled floor show. The envious look on some of the women seeing at that beautifully shaped leg was something to behold.

"I – I can't really dance," stammered Dio.

"I know."

"What is it?"

"A quickstep rhythm but we can improvise if you wish."

"Can't do a quickstep," Dio said, frowning, and looking back to their table for help.

"Can you do a foxtrot?"

Dio looked down at Carmen and her dark eyes were sparkling, caught by the lighting of the diamond cut orb spinning above them.

"Yes."

"Well then, just think of doing a foxtrot fast. That will do and beside within a couple of minutes the floor will be packed and we'll be rockin' as if we're doing simulated sex."

"What!"

"Calm down – it's just a dancer's joke."

They moved off and Carmen came into him and kept right on coming until it was as if she was glued to him. He flushed, thinking that she'd be able to feel not only his shirt buttons and belt but also his gear that fortunately was in neutral.

Actually they appeared to be dancing quite gracefully. Everything Dio did she followed perfectly. Not once did he manage to step on her toes, nor did she mention they were not dancing to the rhythm of the music.

She flung her head back and laughed unnecessarily heartily at a couple of things Dio said, making him feel even more confident. He decided to spin around a couple of times quickly. He did it and found himself going around twice more as Carmen took control. Then during another twirl she slipped out of his grasp until they were linked only by their left arms and she came back into his embrace ever so smoothly. He realized then that she did have reasonably substantial breasts because he could feel them against his chest. 

God, wasn't dancing sexy!

"You're good, a little better than I expected," she said kindly, as they walked back to the table. 

Dio walked taller.

When the band resumed they all danced, and Carra said to Dio, "She's made you a better dancer already. She's amazing, isn't she?" 

Dio agreed.

The band picked up tempo for the next dance and as he and Carra returned to the table her parents stayed on the floor.

"Watch them," Carra said proudly.

Dio couldn't believe his eyes. Big almost awkward walking Cal appeared to become a big rubber man with unbelievable flexibility. Other dancers watching them seemed to shy away a little, leaving more room for Cal and Carmen.

The drummer noticed what was going on and increased the tempo even further. A couple of minutes later all the other dancers were on the perimeter of the floor, watching. The couple dancing really got into their work and displayed amazing fluidity and variety.

"This is what mama was born to do," whispered Carra. "I'm really an excellent dancer but not a patch on her."

Dio decided that he would urgently ask Carmen to prepare him for the wedding dance – he would insist it be a foxtrot. They had three days to do it and he hoped she'd have time to help him. He knew he should have thought of it earlier.

They returned to the hotel all agreeing it had been a wonderful night. Carmen hugged and kissed Dio on the lips – that was a first! Cal gave him a soft one-armed hug and they shook hands. For the first time Dio became aware that he was part of the family. 

Next morning Dio expected everyone to be happy, at least until they got to the airport. But he was wrong. All three were scratchy, but Carmen was the worst. She was frowning, her face looked lined and she was snapping away like a terrier.

They'd decided to go to the airport by cab and travel back in the chartered bus with the wedding party from Argentina.

"Hurry, hurry please," Carmen said to the driver.

"What terminal?"

"We don't know – oh, international."

"Thank you, lady. What airline?"

"Aeorlineas Argentinas?"

"Oh, no worries. That's Airline Manaña Manaña. It will be late."

Carmen bristled.

"Oh mama – look a dress shop," Carra lied; they were driving through an industrial area.

"Where?"

"No matter," said Carra, satisfied that an explosive situation had been defused.

They arrived at the terminal to find that the flight had already arrived.

Carmen lost it, and began speaking rapidly in Spanish.

"I guess some of those words are not ladylike?" Dio said to Carra and was told tersely to mind his own business. "She feels she has disgraced her mother."

Dio swung around to Cal.

"Remember, Cal. It is just you and the Ogre of Las Pampas. Everything – not even Carmen – is of any consequence. You are out to protect you manhood. The Ogre of Las Pampas."

They half-ran to where arriving passengers were emerging from Customs Control.

"I forgot to ask," Dio said to Carra. "Is her English good? After all, her father was English."

"Near to perfect, marked down by a slight accent. She was educated in Bath, England, London and Madrid so is fluent in all three languages plus Italian and gets along fine in German."

Cal had heard that and looked slightly unnerved.

"An educated ogre is still an ogre, Cal," Dio whispered, and Cal nodded.

They arrived at the crowded area just in time, perhaps only seconds to spare.

"There she is," Carmen trilled in great excitement, looking her normal self again.

"Mama, mama!"

Dio watched the faintly smiling woman, dressed in black and silver with jewelry galore, walking – no striding – towards them, carrying a square make-up bag. She didn't look the slightest bit fatigued.

The two women hugged and kissed each other. 

Then Carmen drew Cal forward. He bowed rather stiffly and Dolores inclined her head slightly; they did not touch. 

Then Carra rushed her, and mama put her handbag on to the ground to take her beloved granddaughter into her arms. She rained kisses on Carra as any ordinary long-separated grandmother would be expected to do. They chatted, and Dio watched a long double file of people behind mama waiting patiently. They were obviously the wedding entourage. 

Carmen stood impassively watching her daughter being greeted at length; no telling what was going on in her mind. Cal stood looking reasonably relaxed, lips moving slightly. Dio hoped he was reciting 'Ogre of Las Pampas'.

Carra finally stepped back and Carmen moved into her place, holding out her hand.

"Dio."

Dio went up to them and Carmen took his left hand. 

"Mama, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Carra's betrothed – Dio Wellington. Dio, please meet Dolores Rodriguez y Mendez de Leighton."

"Stand aside, girl, and let me look at him."

"Welcome to our part of the world, ma'am."

"Aha, a young man with manners; that presents a good impression."

"Do you really love my granddaughter?" 

"I truly do."

"Do you ride?"

"Yes ma'am," Dio lied.

"Well then Dio, call me Dolores. We're not at home now. Here, take my arm."

As they began to move off she called, "Cal, fetch my make-up bag."

"Get one of your servants to do it," Cal smiled walking off. 

"Cal, did you not hear me," Dolores called.

"I heard you, crystal clear, Dolores," he said, over his shoulder.

Dio felt the body against his arm stiffen and a huge gasp came from Carmen. Carmen dived for the bag.

"Leave it, Carmen. Cal is right. Maria will fetch it as she passes." They walked out to the bus.

As Dolores' party of four married couples were being introduced, the eight 'servants' including the physician moved on to the bus and went to the rear. The physician was sitting forward of the others one seat between them, Dio noticed. He thought 'protocol'.

Nothing about Dolores appeared scary, at least to him. However, if you relied on her paying your wages no doubt the smart thing to do would to act with due deference. Her features were too sharp to be beautiful, but she was attractive – a standout really, for her age. Her hair was long and heavily streaked with white and she was lean, just like her daughter and seemed imbued with the same sort of physical power. He was aware of this by the way she stood, and especially when she walked. Just like Carmen she was perfumed and wore black clothing and wore it elegantly. The one thing that he really noted was her mouth – her lips were thin and when her mouth was tightly closed it looked suggestively cruel and perhaps would really look so if her almost black eyes hardened. So far she'd been all smiles.

Did he like her? If it hadn't been for the aura that the family placed around Dolores, Dio would have immediately answered yes. He speculated if mama were deceased Carmen would be just like her, afraid of no-one, so would he like her any less if she toughened up - of course not. So did he like Dolores – YES!

Although Dolores was not president of Argentina, she'd taken the presidential suite for herself. It was an enormous area and Dio licked his lips when he looked at the huge four-posted bed.

"Oh, there you are, Dio," Dolores said, coming up behind him and now carrying her square carry bag. "On the night of the wedding the family will come back to another hotel and stay with me. Carra and you will have this suite for two nights as part of my wedding gift. Now, come in and shut the door. I wish to speak to you."

The Ogre of Las Pampas, the Ogre of Las Pampas, and Dio said to himself. He felt as if he was back at school and being summonsed to the headmaster's office.

Dolores sat at the dressing table and began removing items from her hair including a black netting thing.

"Don't look away. I'm not going to disrobe completely and anyway, even if I did you would not expect me to look revolting, would you?"

"No Dolores. Indeed you look exceptionally fit, especially for someone ...er..."

"Of my age?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least you are frank, not evasive like my daughter. I ride at least one of my horses almost every day. You being a rider will know what that means in respect of fitness."

"Carmen is not evasive."

"How charmingly loyal of you, Dio. I know a lot about you, as Carmen writes to me weekly. She says you are quite influential with people. It was you, wasn't it?"

"Me? What do you mean?"

"It was you who's schooled Cal to be St George and stand up to me."

Dio looked at her in the mirror and tried to stare her down. She was good! She didn't say anything so he felt obliged to say yes.

"I knew it. There was nobody else and the poor man could not have done it by himself. You have achieved quite an amazing thing."

The opportunity was there, so Dio snatched it. "Please will you respect of him now. You are aware that your daughter is only a plane trip away from you, admittedly a very long plane trip. Carmen also talks about you often. She's scared of you also, but I have not interfered because she does not cry inside to be helped as I sensed Cal was." He held his breath; would she remain in sweet-talking mode?

"You have explained yourself very well, Dio. I have no intention of changing anything with Carmen. She is strong; I like her just how she is. Cal, I already like him a lot better. Come and undo my necklace, and don't dare refuse. You have nothing to prove."

"Yes ma'am."

"You're a good boy, Dio. You will be fine for my granddaughter. Now run along, I must rest. It is quite exhausting attempting to hide every sign of the exhaustion one feels."

"Hasta la vista!" he grinned.

"An appalling accent, but appreciated, Dio. Maria is waiting outside. Please ask her to come in as you leave."

The Fleming party returned to their hotel, Dio sitting in the front of the cab. Carra was in the back apparently dozing while Carmen was all over Cal.

"You were so wonderful, darling, strong and defiant yet not quite rude."

Thrusting her hand under his shirt, she added: "I saw the look in her eyes. She now respects you. How did you do it?"

"Dio."

"Dio?" chorused the women, with Carra now very much awake.

Back in their room, Carra and Dio were drinking coffee; she was stretched out in his arms dressed in only her panties. Dio wore only in his socks.

"Well, that was a memorable meeting at the airport. How did you motivate daddy?"

"I had a few words."

"When?"

"While you two were squandering fortunes in shops."

"Really? Mama thought you two would be downing beers and ogling the ladies."

"There are no ladies in bars – never."

"Oh, what a sweet thing to say; I never go to bars, do I?"

"Not overly frequently."

"Oh!"

"Cal's going to have a great night tonight," smiled Dio.

"What do you mean? They've gone to bed."

"Exactly. Do you see her in the cab? She was practically having it off then and there."

"Dio Wellington! Don't be so foul. My parents don't go at it like we do!"

"Don't they?" said Dio, grinning and allowing his right hand to wander.

"If you dare touch me I shall scream."

"Scream away, babe. Here comes Hungry Joe!"

They lay on the leather sofa, rather weary.

"This is our second to last night together before the wedding – go slowly to make it last."

"What? Why? Who said?"

"Mama, she says it is improper for the bride not to be in the home of her parents on the eve of her wedding, and that the husband-to-be should not see the bride until she arrives for the wedding ceremony."

"What! That's a night without sex!"

"Quite. Hence my comment about go slowly tonight to make it last."

"B-b-but how will I last? We've got rather used to being together."

"Oh, you shall survive. Perhaps I could email you some dirty pictures?"

"That's not the same – you are warm, cuddly, say nice things to me and you blow on my nipples. There is no substitute for you."

"Oh my. You do say the nicest things to a girl. Perhaps I really didn't mean what I said about going slowly..."

Again they lay on the leather sofa, rather weary.

"That was nice."

"Just the best," Dio sighed. "There's something I must ask you now that you are so soft, innocent and vulnerable lying in my arms. Why do plans for our honeymoon have to be a secret?"

"Because it's mama's wish."

"But she must have given you a hint when she asked you for our passports?"

"No, I've never known mama to hold out on me like this. She'd not even told daddy because she knows I would wheedle it out of him."

"Bloody hell. It could be a place that we find is a total bore. I was willing to pay through the nose to take you somewhere great, but she had to get in first."

"That's my caring, sweet generous mother you are talking about."

"Sorry."

"That's all right. Stop! That was not an invitation; we must go slowly," she said.

"Looking forward to the greatest day of you life?"

"I'm going to love it, but it will not be remembered as the greatest day of my life."

"Oh, when was that?"

"When you phoned me after you found my email when we'd first met; I was fearful that we would see each other again."

"You've never told me that."

"I'm telling you now. Have all the arrangements been made on your side?"

"Yes. It's my boys' night out on Friday night and you will be at your hen's party."

"Silly, I know that, and I know that the men have to get their suits early on Saturday, my girls are all fitted out but we have our appointment to be at the hairdressers' at 9:00 sharp on my wedding day."

"Our wedding day."

"Quite, sorry. You must also remember that I require you to be on your best behavior all day tomorrow."

"Aren't I always?"

"Yes, but mama's got me so nervous about grandmama's visit and dinner that I am extremely nervous. I just had to say that to underpin my own confidence, I guess."

"Oh darling, your mama and grandmana do scare you a little, don't they?"

"Yes, just a little. Never mind, this is a convenient time to bring me up to date with our business."

"All operational as we speak. During the three weeks we'll be away, wherever we're going, Philip will be acting general manager and Selby will be acting operations manager. No franchise applications are in the pipeline and your administration is right up to date, so no worries."

"Then those two franchise sales for those guys up country; are they operational?"

"Yep, the lads from The Triangle picked up their vans from Selby two mornings ago."

"We're riding a wave, aren't we darling?"




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 07



"Yeah and long may it last. Listen, I've going to visit John."

"It's late to be going out, and who's John?"

"I'm going to the toilet, silly."

"Oh."

When Dio returned he found Carra fast asleep. He carried her to bed and she barely stirred. 

He kissed her gently and whispered good night.

Dio set the bedside radio alarm to 6:00; he had plans for first thing in the morning, beginning with a shared shower! Then they would wander off for a romantic breakfast down by the river. Surely at least one of those places on restaurant row would offer the right setting, menu and service.

* * *

They left for home at 9:00 the next day, waved off by a smiling Dolores. Carmen had been so proud of her mother. When Cal came around from packing in their luggage, Dolores had taken him by the hand and whispered something to him. Cal bent over and she kissed him, patting him on the back as she did so.

Soon after he'd been dropped off at his mother's house, with Carra packing her things in preparation for shifting back to her mother's house, Dio headed as arrange for Al's Steak & Salad Bar in Lake Street to lunch late with Louise, Sarisha, Mike and Celina. They had a happy hour together with conversation including the women talking about their own wedding days.

They broke up cheerfully with everyone advising Dio to take it easy. He kissed the women and shook hands with Mike, reminding Mike not to be late for the Royal Command dinner that evening.

Dio went down to the old school site. Changes were noticeable. The entire perimeter of the property had been re-fenced, a 6-foot fence around lots one and two, with new heavy gauge steel gates across the Memorial Arch and an 8ft fence around lot three where the courier firm would be relocating over the weekend.

One of the two-storey classroom blocks – designated at the national head officer of Mr Computer Cleaner Ltd - had been gutted and was being relined and some of the windows and roofing replaced. The ground floor would be used for holding new vehicles for franchisees to collect and for general storage while upstairs was being converted into five offices, an operations room and a training room.

But Dio's main interest was in another two-storey block conversion, the general manager's home which would be his and Carra's home for the next year. Although the renovation plans were expected to be approved by the planning department at the council that very afternoon, the architects had already let the building contract and the builders were removing all the windows and were tearing out the linings. They were under orders not to make any structural changes until the building permit was issued.

Dio walked through the mess and didn't require a plan in his hands to visualize the changes being made as he'd already committed the plan to memory, having the kind of mind that enabled him to do that so easily.

"Hi Bruce," he called to the building foreman. Bruce came over and they chatted warmly, having gone to high school together, although Bruce had been a class a head of him. But they trained and run races together.

"You're going to get a very solid quite modern house out of this for very little expenditure," Bruce said. "It was the last classroom to be built and its sound throughout and, I'm pleased to report, everything is absolutely square and straight. You don't always find that with commercial structures."

It was 2:30 and he was due at the Flemings at 3:00 ready for the arrival of Dolores any time after 3:30. The restaurant dinner wasn't due to start until 8:00 so Dio wondered how they would entertain Dolores for all that time; get her drunk, perhaps?

He phoned Cal.

"G'day mate," Cal said. "Pissed yet?"

"Nah, only had two beers. What about you?"

"No, the Little General hasn't allowed me out of her sight since sun-up. One of my jobs has been to dust all items in the china cabinets. Would you believe that – me!"

"I could very well believe that Cal. You must remember you oath about ogres. Look, why I'm phoning is for a little support. I will dress up for this afternoon but I'm bloody well not going to be wearing a suit jacket until this evening. It will spread the wrath if you do the same."

"What, not wear a jacket? I'm sorry, mate but I..."

"Cal!"

"What?"

"Do you want to wear a jacket?"

"No, of course not. But..."

"Make a stand, Cal. There's nothing wrong with complying with reasonable requests you agree with. But if compliance is repugnant or even gets up your nose a tiny bit, then consider your options and act appropriately."

"Carmen considers that often I do not have options available to me."

"Then you know what to do, Cal. If you want to be unreasonably manipulated by ogres then that's your choice. Carmen's just a pussy cat, Cal. The flashing eyes, the electricity zapping out of her fingers and the orders ripping through the air like a chainsaw are just and act. She's sixty per cent water, Cal, and she knows that. However, whatever you decide is fine by me, Cal. See you soon."

Dio switched off his phone, made a flask of coffee and went for a walk through the gully to the far end and watched children with their mothers feeding ducks in the pond. He then wandered back, had a shave and then a shower, dressed, yawned, checked to clock to make sure that it was at least 3:10 – it was 3:25 – and then drove off, wondering how many frantic calls would have been made to his phone. 

As he parked outside the Fleming's property Carra came flying at him and almost pinned him across the hood of the ute. She smothered him in kisses and then jumped away before he could lay a hand on her.

"Proceed with caution," she said, noticing that he wasn't wearing his suit jacket. "There's been a big row – daddy has taken it into his head that he's not going to wear his suit jacket until this evening. Mama tore into him as usual and she dissolved into tears and fled to the bedroom when he made a crack that she's forty per cent noise and sixty per cent water. She's screamed that he's never spoken to her like that in their entire time together. What should we do? It sounds as if you've been coaching daddy again."

"Umm, I might have let something slip but never mind. He wasn't supposed to do the jacket confrontation until I was here in support. I'll fix it."

Dio found Cal downing a whisky, looking quite relaxed.

"Hi Dio. The shit's hit the fan but I'm great. For the first time for a very long time I actually can feel blood flowing through my veins; I love it."

"Don't gloat daddy, she won't be able to cope with that."

"Right, so the guy with all the answers. What do we do know before the Ogre of Las Pampas arrives?"

"What!" said Carra, shocked.

"Just our pet name for Dolores – just forget you heard what Cal said," Dio soothed.

"Cal, mix a Margarita. Take it in and be ever so sweet but firm that she must drink it otherwise she'll not be up to hosting her mama properly. Say you are sorry for upsetting her – but don't apologize for taking your stand, otherwise you're back to square one. Got that?"

"Yeah – it's a piece of cake. You guys want a Margarita?" They didn't.

While Cal was busy being barman, Carra said to Dio she was astonished to see the apparent hold Dio had on her father.

Taking her out to the kitchen to make coffee, he replied: "Nah, you're misreading it. I'm simply telling him things he wants to hear; that's all. He asked where was Shona.

"There was a crisis over Shona's shoes – they were dyed to match her dress but had gone darker. The shoe repair man hadn't any lighter blue dyes so Shona has gone in to sort it out – she was very experience in hair and in clothing dye blending."

At 2:50 there was a telephone call. Cal called out, "They're three minutes away. We all better move across to the reserve. The landing area has been roped off but the permit required at least two people must be on the ground to keep any excited children from running into the cordoned off area."

The helicopter came in so quickly and had settled on to the ground before the first neighbors were peering over their fences. Dolores emerged to be greeted by Carmen and Hal and by then the helicopter was taking off. 

A Council workman drove up in a one-tonner and began dismantling the standards and plastic warning tape that had ringed the area.

"Won't they need that for the flight back this evening?" Dio asked.

"No, it will be a night landing when the helicopter returns so that will be at the airport where they are proper facilities," Carra explained.

"My darling," Dolores cried and Carra ran into the wide opened arms. 

While waiting for his turn Dio looked at Hal, looking happy, still without his jacket, and clutching his arm adoringly was a radiant Carmen. She'd once told Dio that the Margarita was her favorite drink but she rarely drank it because it "did something" to her.

Half an hour later after the tour of the house and afternoon tea Carra announced that Carmen looked tired and should have a nap, that she, daddy and Dio would take Dolores on a tour of the town.

"I'll stay with Carmen and take any phone calls," Hal said casually, tossing the keys to the Range Rover to Dio.

Dio and Carra took Dolores in a tour of the town and also went to the old school site, The Knoll and went passed the farmhouse and Dio's house.

During the tour Carra received a call that made her really excited.

"Tina, Tina – how lovely to hear your voice – just a moment where traveling and I'll just let the others know. It's my bridesmaid Tina Scott. She flew in from London very early this morning and is now here staying with her aunt and uncle."

Carra returned to her call and found that Tina already had been to the dressmaker's to have her first and final fitting – the measurements supplied to the dressmaker had been followed accurately. Tina was now having late lunch with the chief bridesmaid and their mutual school friend, Shona Livingstone. And yes, Shona had told her about the dinner this evening.

"You'd better scamper home and get some sleep," Carra urged, "although real jet lag won't hit you until tomorrow. Really, I find that difficult to believe. Will catch you soon."

Dolores asked what Tina had said that Carra didn't believe.

"She said that's why she drinks beer – drink enough of it and one doesn't get jet lag she claims, but I cannot believe that."

"Perhaps if she over-indulges in beer the hangover will be so bad she will not have to worry about jet lag," Dio offered.

"Yes," Dolores said. "That sounds plausible."

They returned to the Flemings' home to fine Carmen alone. Cal had gone off to the lake to meet a motorcade of seven camper vans that were arriving at the camping ground, bringing his parents, his three brothers and wives and some of their married children. Carmen had decided that she could not split her time between her mother and hers so she opted to stay at home, with Cal having to hurry back late for Dolores' dinner.

Of course, Cal could have receive a burst in the ear from his mother for only staying with them for two hours. But he said she had been sweet about it.

The wedding party and the priest who would conduct the wedding service were guests of Dolores in a private room at the town's top restaurant. The table and room were beautifully decorated and even Dolores, who was used to extravagant dining out internationally, was impressed.

Cal arrived just as people were being seated, earning a look of gratitude from his wife who'd kept in touch by phone. 

Dolores sat at the head of the table with Dio and Carra next to her facing each other. Father Bryan was at the other end with Cal and Carmen. The wedding attendants were between those two groups. 

Every fifteen minutes Dolores rang a tiny glass bell and everyone would move one place to the left. After two and a half hours guests were back at their original seat. Everyone agreed it was a great way to 'mix and meet'.

Father Bryan proved to be the dominant character of the party. He'd rattled off a short string of jokes at intervals, and then grasping his refilled glass of red wine would ask a question of one of the guests. Invariably that initiated group discussion. None of the jokes was obscene and some were deliciously funny. 

Just after 10:30 Dolores decided it was time to end the function. She thanked everyone for coming, and especially thanked Hal and Carmen for their hard work and generosity for bringing everyone together for what promised to be a grand event.

"My daughter Carmen has truly worked magnificently to give Carra a wonderful wedding," she said, causing Carmen to flush with pleasure.

"Carra and Dio, enjoy tomorrow and may you have a wonderful life together."

Mike thanked Dolores on behalf of everyone and Dio proposed a thank you toast for her.

Dolores then rang her little bell, and a waitress came in with a black leather bag. Dolores began handing out gifts – "Blue for boys, pink for the ladies."

Each man including Father Bryan received a top designer brand sports watch and each woman an etched quality silver jewelry box for rings and earrings.

Out on the street there was much excitement as temporary farewells were made; all would meet again next day. Carra was reduced to tears after hugging Dio goodbye. 

The women and Father Bryan left. Carra took Carmen home and then went off to have a quiet drink with her bridesmaids.

Dolores looked at her watch.

"I don't have to be at the airport until 11:15 so have one and a half hours to kill. Boys, please accompany me to a night club or the best bar in town as my guests. Cal, you are responsible for delivering me to the airport in time. Let's party!"

They only had to walk half a block and were at the Black Leather Strip Club.

"Oh – one of those places. Well, if this is the only night club in town it shall have to do. I am not unfamiliar with such places."

Cal grabbed hold of Dio and whispered: "If word gets out we went to this place, Carmen will never allow us out alone at night again."

"Relax, Cal," Dio soothed. "Just tell her the truth – that you took Dolores to a strip club. She'll never believe you and assume you went to a bar."

"God, Dio; I think you're right. That's exactly what she will think. How come you know all this?"

"I had a misspent youth and figuring out what people are likely to think seems to come naturally to me."

* * *

Early on Friday, the last full day of bachelorhood, Dio had four options for lunch. 

He'd received a surprise invitation from real estate salesperson Miss Legs – ah, correction, Mrs Charlotte (call me Charlie) Gibbons.

"I know it's your wedding the day after tomorrow," she'd said softly.

"Oh, how did you know that?"

"Because Carra and you invited us, silly."

"Oh, so we wish to discuss something?"

"You could say that. Or then again, that might not be the reason."

"What other reason would there be?"

"I'm sure you will come up with something."

"Ah, Charlie. Right now I've got more than I can handle. So perhaps some other time, huh?""

"That's fine. Just give me a call. I'll watch you with pride tomorrow. Bye – oh, if I may say so, you've got the cutest butt."

"Bye Charlie," choked Dio.

He'd read in books about men caught in such a conversation having to wipe their brows. He almost needed a cold shower! The cheeky bitch, right on the eve of his wedding. She must have the morals of Cinderella's sisters.

He also turned down invitations to lunch out with Philip and Ronnie and finally Mike had suggested he might like to lunch late with Susie as Mike had to take Celina to get her nails done just after two and wait for her and then take her somewhere for a lovely lunch. Instead, Dio picked up a dozen cans of beer, a trestle table and four chairs, nine legs of barbecued chicken and a big container of salad and went to lunch as arranged two weeks earlier with Hackett and the boys.

The MG was coming along fine. The engine had been overhauled but not yet reinstalled because Alfie Morrow was waiting for some gearbox parts to arrive by airfreight from England along with other items including two replacement fog lamps and a luggage rack.

Good progress had been made.

"The ash body tub is finished and you can see that we've pinned the first steel panel to it," said Hackett, as he helped set up the trestle table for Dio's special thank you lunch.

"You won't know the old girl when you get back from your honeymoon," said Alfie. "The engine assembly will be back in, the wheels will be on and the chassis alignment all finished and probably the steering assembly will be back in as well.

"But we won't fire the engine until you're here – as it will be a great moment for you."

"Thanks Alfie," smiled Dio, thinking of that day and watching Alfie attack his third chicken leg.

"That idea is that each of us will have a celebratory test drive around the block and then Alfie will drop the motor out again and will run it in on the bench to clock up a few hours, allowing us to proceed with the body in peace," said Hackett.

"The upholsterer plans to do the red leather seats next week and has already done the other matching cabin leather work, taking the patterns off every piece we pulled out, which is why we did those removals so carefully."

Hackett added that tan colored canvas top and tonneau cover were already finished and we being held in storage.

"You guys are having a ball, aren't you?" Dio said, twirling his empty first bottle of beer in his hand, resolving not to drink another one.

"What I like about it is the precision of attempting to complete a restoration fully back to the factory-produced original with the factory optional extras," said Billy. "We have these various publications and still cock-ups are possible."

"Really?" responded Dio, with interested. Not knowing much about vehicle mechanics, he'd assumed that restoration for his experienced team would not be overly difficult.

"Yeah," said Billy. "Fortunately Hackett was in charge of research as he found notes from two restorers pointing out the grills were painted in the factory, not chromed, and this particular baby was produced when the rear of the headlights were painted, not chromed. Somewhere during its life this grill had been chromed and the headlight backs were also chromed."

"I also found wire-spoke wheels had been fitted by a previous owner," said Hackett, as you will remember and that's why we've gone back to the original fifteen inch pressed steel wheels."

"Yeah, you tracked down three in England, one in France and got the other from a parts dealer in South Africa – all probably from wrecks or failed restorations," snorted Alfie

"Oh yes – and that was a very expensive exercise because of freight costs," Billy added.

Dio weakened and grabbed another bottle of beer.

"Right, but it always was going to be an expensive project, even without having to pay for labor," said Dio.

"Labor?" chorused Billy and Alfie.

"Skilled professional labor and a lifetime of accumulated expertise," responded Dio.

"That's more like it," said Alfie, clinking his third bottle of beer against Billy's almost finished second.

"You mentioned a failed restoration," said Dio. "What's that?"

Hackett responded, indicating his depth of research. "Blokes – restorers are mainly blokes although women are often right into it with them – sometimes start a restoration then tail off and finally shove the car into the back of the garage or even outside under a tree where it will languish. A couple of wheels may be removed for a home-built car trailer and in one instance I read about the motor and gearbox and running gear went into a rebuilt midget racing car. Some restorers' marriages end, either in a divorce or death, and the uncompleted restoration is sold off dirt cheap, with perhaps a parts dealer being the purchaser. Then there are disaster-related endings such as fires, floods and probably even tornadoes and wars."




Mr Computer Cleaner  Ch. 07



"Geeze, what fool would want to become involved in a full car restoration?" commented Dio, causing Hackett and his crew to point at him and almost roll off their seats laughing.

Finally it was time for Dio to go. Hackett would be attending the wedding and Alfie and Billy shook Dio's hand, wishing him all the best.

"You know guys," said Dio warmly. "I appreciate the care that you are putting into this project and are especially appreciative that it's been done without payment. What I shall do after Alice is finished is to hand her over to each of you for a full month to drive her when and to wherever you wish."

They all thought that would be great.

"Alice?" asked Hackett, not aware that the MG had a name.

"Oh, that name just popped out," said Dio. "Perhaps when the repainting is being done you'll be good enough to add the name Alice in script near the bottom of the panel just to the rear of the lower door hinge on both sides – not too large, mind you."

"Right," said Hackett, walking Dio out to the ute. "Now, this person Faye Lloyd-Oaks that Mrs Fleming phoned to say she would like me to partner tomorrow. What's she like?"

"Great – I've met her a couple of times. A bit younger than you, almost as tall but with a bigger chest and far more hair. You'll like her and she may decide to stay the night if you ask nicely."

"I didn't mean that!" Hackett said, coughing to cover his embarrassment.

As Dio went to drive off, Hackett appeared alongside the driver's window. "What did you mean ask nicely?"

"Ask the question very romantically and try to look as if you expect her to say no."

"But this will be our first date."

"Look, Hackett. People tend not to waste time these days. In fact, she may very well ask you to go home with her. Oh no, that would be so embarrassing for her. The man should do the asking. I know, I shall ask her during the supper waltz."

"Good idea, Hackett, you cunning old dog." Dio drove off, wondering if he was mean not telling Hackett that it would be continuous catering from the start of the Wedding Breakfast. Never mind – perhaps he could mention to Faye during the evening that Hackett looks to be rather keen on her. 

He took a phone call from Carra. "Hi, darling. I'm bringing Shona home with me as after our party we'll be going straight home to mama's for the night as arranged. Shona said she'd go for a long walk in the reserve if you want nookie before you go to your stag do.

"Is she beside you listening?"

"Of course."

Dio gulped. Then Shona knew Carra was offering to have sex with him. Jeez!

"Nah, tell her thanks, but I'm saving myself for my wedding night."

There was a pause as Carra relayed the message. Dio was shocked. He hadn't meant her to do that, he was just being sarcastic. Oh well.

"She's wondering if declining the invitation makes much difference and the girl bursting out of the cake at you stag night obviously will have a little surprise for you."

Holy shit, girls do talk to each other like that! "If anything should confront me like that at the stag party I shall decline, and you may decide to be similarly chaste with the male stripper at your hen's night."

"Dio! We are nice girls; nothing like that would occur at our party."

"Will your mother be there?"

"No."

"Who is organizing it?"

"Louise – she volunteered, bless her."

"Then there will be a male stripper, I promise you. Bye."

He terminated the call. The phone went and he glanced to find who the caller was. Carra! Dio grinned, and placed the phone into the holder without answering.

He called on two clients and then went home, to find the two girls already there. Stroppy Shona met him at the door.

"Want me to take a walk or are you saving it for the little sweetie at your boys' only?"

"Neither and hullo to you Shona. A nice kiss on the cheek would be nice."

She smiled, kissed him and said, "You are a clever Dick, aren't you? You have a very smooth way with women. I've almost forgotten what I was on about."

"You were saying just how perfect I am for Carra."

"There you go again, Mr Smoothie. Mr Smoothie's home, Carra! And he doesn't require me to go walkies."

The stag party was a great success, finishing without any complainants calling the police and the only damage was two broken glasses and a beer jug. There was also a complaint from an entertainer that her bra and panties had been stolen by guests. The proprietor called it one of the most civilized stag nights he'd ever witnessed.

There wasn't a floor show with a girl bursting out of a cake. So smart-ass Shona had been wrong, thought Dio, just as three women had burst through the doors calling for the bridegroom-to-be.

Willing helpers brought the struggling Dio to them, and the one dressed as a High Priestess called, "Strip him!" Her two assistants undressed Dio but left his underpants on. They played around with him, the High Priestess producing a riding crop that she used to slap him with, but reasonably gently. She then commanded her two assistants to rub themselves against him, which they did, sensually much to Dio's embarrassment and to the delight of the raucous onlookers. However, at all times they left areas covered by his underpants untouched.

Dio found later that Ronnie rather than Mike had organized the evening, which explained why he'd not been 'violated'.

"Silence please!" commanded the High Priestess. "Dio, I have the power to grant you a wish, your final wish as a bachelor. My assistants and I promise to do anything you ask?"

Dio's mates whistled and hollered, advising a multiple of choices, mostly obscene.

"Silence please!" commanded the High Priestess. "Dio, what is your wish?"

Adopting a small boy's voice, Dio said: "I want you to lay off me, to take off your masks and to stay on and drink with the boys."

There was wild cheering mixed with laughter His wish was then granted.

Dio arrived home just before 11.30. He had intended being home by 11.00 but had not been allowed to leave.

The phone went, it was Louise.

"How did it go?"

He replied great, he'd escaped being seriously molested and felt elated but tired. He asked how Carra coped with the stripper.

"Very well, actually. He's a six-four entertainer who dresses and pretends he's a transvestite. But he fully stripped to prove very obviously that he wasn't. He made some indecent proposals but Carra rejected all of them, very well mannered, really. She finally relented and exposed her breasts and he kissed them, leaving big imprints of his lipstick around her nipples."

"She did what?" cried Dio, flabbergasted. His Carra did that.

"I told you what she did. We all loved it, screamed and carried on. She's such a good sport, Dio, you very lucky man. Well, I should led you hit the sack. Good night, sweet Dio. I shall always love you."

"Bye, Louise. Love you too. You really are something, you know. See you tomorrow."

* * *

The Wedding Day dawn chorus brought Dio awake with a soft smile on his lips. He'd mostly drunk light beer (also known as lamb's piss) the previous night, so did not have impaired vision, a headache and general malaise that generally are the aftermath of alcohol bingeing.

He rolled over, grabbed his phone and called Carra.

Cal answered.

"Sorry, I am under orders not to wake her."

But Dio was ready for that fend off. "Where your calls to Carmen on your wedding day turned away?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to suffer just like you did?"

"Oh, shit. Okay, I'll wake her to take the call and have my heart ripped out by you know who."

"Just stand tall, Cal, and give her your best lopsided grin. She'll probably grab you and pulled you back to bed."

"We've had a month's supply the last two nights. Oh damn, what am I saying?"

"Hullo, Mr Groom; how are you?"

"I'm actually fine and dandy. Drank lamb's piss most of the night."

"Good gracious, is that a spin-off home industry for sheep farmers' wives?"

"Perhaps, but then again perhaps not," said Dio evasively, to avoid having to tell the whole story in detail. 

"What are you wearing?"

"Oh darling. That reminds me of the first ever telephone call you made to me. I'm wearing a g-string but really they are not suitable for sleeping in."

"Oh, groaned Dio. I've got something here for you."

"Go take a cold shower, you naughty boy. And have a lovely morning. I love you ... dearly."

"I love you too, darling. See you at 5:30 and don't be late! Bye."

"Bye."

At 9:50 on the beautiful Saturday October morning Sarisha's husband Amol arrived driving a black Mercedes hire car to collect Dio. Already in the car were Mike and Ronnie. 

They went to Sly the tailor, who had insisted on dressing them to preserve his respected reputation.

Sly was a master of such occasions.

"Over there on the table," he said.

On the table were lined up four rum and cokes. Sly's stereo began pumping out a polka and suddenly the mood in the room lifted.

The suits were lovingly assembled on the appropriate bodies and Sly fluffed around until he was satisfied.

He then poured five rum and cokes, this time joining in.

Dio and his two attendants returned to Dio's mother's house and stood in the lounge talking for a few minutes and then went outside where Dio and his mother used to sit and dine.

"Anything?" Mike asked.

Dio shook his head. The party had been fully briefed about these two visits with the words "possible visitations" being used.

Ronnie took a phone call; he and was needed urgently at his office. Dio tossed him the keys to the ute. Amol drove Dio and Mike to meet Philip at the farmhouse. Philip led them into the sitting room where, as arranged, the original furniture and fittings remained untouched. A professional removal firm would that afternoon take the entire contents of the room for storage in the hall at the old school site.

The men all sat down and waited quietly. Philip opened his mouth to say to Dio 

"Anything?" when his eyes bulged. 

Amol and Mike were aware of it, too.

"Keep calm, guys", Dio called to his pre-briefed but skeptical companions. She's only here to be with me for a few minutes and then will go. No harm will come to you." 

Two minutes later the presence seemed to have dissolved and the men regained their normal composure.

"That scared the crap out of me," confessed Amol.

"I knew what to expect but it was just so unexpected, like nothing I know," Philip said, shaking his head. "The whole area around me seemed to be filled with something but like nothing I can explain."

"Neat, eh?" Dio grinned, then turning serious he urged: "Please don't share this with anyone apart from your wives but then only if you're confident they won't blab. This is a thing between me and Alice. If word gets out I'll be mobbed by cranks, bible-bashers and spiritualists. I've trusted you to share in this revelation. Only Carra and myself, you guys, and of course Alice, know about this."

"Well, I can't possibly tell Celina," Mike said, rap-tatting a for-finger against the adjoining thumb to represent a gossiping mouth.

"It's been a fantastic experience," Philip acknowledged. "I only half believed you when you first told me about it. I'm pleased you have done this for us."

Dio knew he'd have to press Philip to keep it confidential.

"Yeah, thanks, enjoined Amol. "My lips are sealed and to be safe I shall not tell Sarisha – she'd be spooked. Anyway, the difficulty is how to describe something you can't see or hear – it was just something really big that I could feel. I'm now aware of the meaning of the phrase, 'a presence'."

"Well put," Dio said. "Philip, can you keep quiet about it?"

"Yes, absolutely; I'm aware of the downstream problems for both of us if word gets out. Of course, I shall tell Ella. She knows about it in general terms and will keep her mouth shut. When you build down by the river we want to share in the experience if Alice decides to visit you there. I think by replicating this room you will be doing the right thing; you have only felt her presence in this room."

Mike decided it was time to move on. 

"Come on guys, down to Coffee Exotic for a light lunch. We'll eat out at the back. Susie's been practicing the Dance of the Seven Veils. Her veils are actually tea-towels, but who cares?"

They enjoyed a very long lunch, with Susie completely unabashed stripping right to the dropping of the very last tea-towel amid enthusiastic applause. She had been forbidden by Dio to touch any of the men but when they were leaving dressed only in her panties, she gave Dio a very erotic farewell kissed with even Mike being rather impressed.

Amol took them on to the lake smoothly and ahead of schedule, as they had been invited to call in to have a drink with Alec and Melissa Simpson.

"Oh, don't you looked wonderful," cooed Melissa, moving straight into Dio. I could do with a little piece of you myself."

"Melissa!" cried Alec, pouring the whiskies and pretending to be shocked. "Dio is as good as being your godson." 

That retort made Dio very happy.

They stood on the lawn with their drinks looking across the lake.

"I'd forgotten this place existed," Mike breathed in awe. Each year when we close over Christmas, Celli and I go all over the country looking for perfect spots and here is one of the best, less than an hour from home."

A blaring car horn sounded and a long white Mercedes went passed at high speed.

"There goes the bride and her parents," Alec called. "That's my goddaughter."

"And mine," Melissa sniffed, dabbing her eyes. "Come on, we better go," she said. "They are going to relax in the lodge until the wedding music starts. But we must not be late as Carmen wants everything perfect."

"Look," said Alec, with military-trained alertness. "A chopper swinging in from the nor-west." A few seconds went by before the civilians saw it.

"It will be the nobs of the entourage from Argentina," Dio informed them grandly.

"What, Carmen's mum and her buddies?" Alec said, applying a laid-back spin.

Dio was impressed at they arrived at Lakeside Manor. 

Flags of several nations were flying, a huge marquee had been erected on the lawn for the wedding breakfast and because the sun would go earlier, as the lodge was tucked into the sou-west end of the lake under steep hills, and lighting standards had been erected around the entire perimeter of the huge lawn. He noticed that a string of poles ran up the nearby hill, and a ten foot width of scrub and bush looked newly cleared right to the top. A small platform had been erected under the topmost light standard.

Melissa was clutching Dio as if she owned him. She whispered, "Carmen has asked Alec and me to stand in as your parents. We hope you don't mind. She didn't want to tell you in case you objected. Her theory is that you would not want to make a fuss when told only moments before the wedding starts."

"No, no. I am honored," Dio said, genuinely touched.

"Alec, Alec!" shrilled Melissa to her husband standing only six feet from her. He wants us. We've been approved as parents!"

"Dio, you must excuse Melissa," Alec said dryly, wiping back a straying lock of his limp white hair. "She's been beside herself ever since Carmen made the request. As you know, we only ever had two daughters and..."

"It's okay, Alec. I'm chuffed."

"You're a nice young man, Dio," Alec replied gruffly.

They were escorted down to the front of a raised platform. The arena was already almost filled with people.

"Looks more than 200 people to me," Dio observed.

"It's capacity at 250," Melissa said proudly. "Carmen and I made sure of that."

A tall red-hair woman in a green gown, looking as if she'd just stepped out of a women's fashion magazine, came up to Dio and his attendants. She was carrying a camera with another two hanging off her neck.

"Hi, please ignore me," she said, and took several photos of Dio, Mike and Philip and then of the larger group surrounding them.

"You look gorgeous, you guys," called Celina.

"Bags first pick," said Louise, and Sarisha just stood beside her two girlfriends, staring at Dio, her eyes brimming. 

Dolores arrived, in a flaming red crossover gown and very high-heeled shoes. She motioned her guests to their seats and tottered down to where Dio stood. 

She reached up to cup his face and kissed him gently on the lips. She then greeted Mike, Philip and the Simpson's and took her seat.

Right on 5:30 the curtains behind the raised platform parted, revealing a five-piece band comprising the leader on keyboard, a drummer, a double-bass player, guitarist and saxophonist.

There was a brief drum roll, reaching a crescendo, then fading. A fluttering sounded and two dozen white doves were released.

The band played 'Here Comes and Bride' and Carra and her father Cal began the long walk to the front, where Father Bryan had appeared, greeting men he'd met at a pre-wedding briefing as well as Dolores' dinner.

Dio expected the bride would look gorgeous, and his expectations were exceeded although initially her face remained covered. He soaked up the image of the approaching Carra. Her hair was in a high bun and attached to that by a comb was a chapel length antique white mantilla. Underneath she wore a full-length white lace wedding dress, with bell sleeves.

"That mantilla was her great-grandmother's which Carmen wore at her own wedding and the wedding dress was Dolores' which she brought with her and has given to Carra," Melissa called softly to Dio. "Doesn't she look absolutely stunning?"

Dio replied, "Does she what!" He looked across to Dolores and Carmen. Both were hand-in-hand, crying radiantly. 

As Carra neared, through the blusher (veil) Dio caught a flash of teeth. Cal grinned warmly at him as he brought Carra on to the platform in front of the congregation. Immediately her hand reached for Dio.

Eventually the tension was over for Dio, hearing the instruction, "You may kiss the bride."

He gently lifted the veil and was greeted with a wondrous smile. She was beautiful, he paused looking at her until Louise called, "Hurry up." He kissed his bride, triggering a long round of cheering and clapping. 

The band broke into a rousing tune that Dio had requested and requested until Carmen finally consented, 'I'm Getting Married in the Morning'. 

It was a perfect choice. Most of the congregation streamed towards the two bars singing with the band, while others lined up to congratulate the bride and groom. "Why are those young women crying so?" Dolores asked Carmen, as she watched Celina, Sarisha and Louise near the head of the queue.

"Don't be upset, mama, but I think the young man to whom you have taking such a liking was a bit of a bad boy before he met your granddaughter."

"Upset? I would have been upset if he had been unable to sow his oats before his marriage," Dolores said wickedly.

With drinks in their hands people began moving to tables ready for the wedding breakfast, Dio was amazed to see Rod, his half-sister's husband, stand up and commence the role of master of ceremonies.

"Good evening. I am Rod Oldham, husband of Dio's half-sister. The wedding photographs are being taken just across in the lodge, so the bride and groom will be joining us within thirty minutes. So please attack your drinks and plates of hot finger food will be brought to your tables as starters. Now, here's something that my not unattractive mother told everyone at my wedding when she was denied the opportunity to speak. She jumped to her feet and shouted:

Do you know why is it more important for women to be pretty rather than smart?

Because men can see better than they can think.

It was perfect weather – a truly balmy night. The sun had gone behind the hill and the perimeter lights were switched on, as were strings of colored lights above the tables in the marquee.