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Dynamic Hollywood Newcomer

By: Egmont Grigor



CHAPTER 1

A missile thudded on to the blackboard above Miss Sandra Clemow's head as she was writing on the classroom backboard and bounced to drop into her hair -- today the color was red.

Sandra turned and as expected all heads were studiously down and with these kids that was as rare as snow in mid-May.

"Close you books and look out the window and compose something in your minds that could possible amount to literary thoughts," she said, and sat on her chair and sulked. Her students failed to comprehend her mood and that was not surprising as they failed to comprehend many things. Most of them looked apprehensive.

Sandra, a New Zealander who'd taught English in several international schools for ex-pats, mostly American, had been head-hunted by an exclusive girl's school in Boston to fill a difficult to fill post -- a teacher of Victorian literature -- and had accepted the post because American residency privileges came with the position. She'd met the two-year condition to stay in that position tagged to her appointment when a new head mistress arrived and one of the several changes made to the curriculum was the elimination of Victorian literature. Sandra was transferred to the Math and Science Department under protest so resigned. And now, on this morning at the horror school in New York where she'd struggled to teach American contemporary literature to bottom-level students who's interest in the subject bordered on zero, Sandra decided she'd had America and would hitch across the country to LA and catch an aircraft home.

The experience in crossing the vast terrain had been astonishing colorful and interesting with some mini side-adventures and only a couple of nasty scares. She usually only hitched with mid-aged to elderly women but one could not always be choosy. This was one such occasion as it was hot, she was dripping and no one else had stopped for her.

Sandra stood at the open window ready to run.

"Yes, I am heading for LA."

"Well get in, this is your lucky day," said the suited dude with no tie. He looked arrogant and his suit was expensive as was his vehicle. "I have a beer in the cooler -- great day for a cold beer."

Sandra occasionally drank beer but this was a set-up for unwelcome attention, she was being lured. How did she know, well she didn't know did she? It had to be all about trust. Or the absence or erosion of it.

He had lovely green eyes. God girl, men with green eyes went after vulvas uninvited.

"No, I'm not married -- I'm divorced -- and I don't go to church or possess some sort of good conduct card. Yes I drink and play poker and I seduce women. But hear this: I don't molest women and anyway you look sweaty and therefore not for me. If you are coming you'll sit on a rug and stay away from me -- this suit is expensive. Get it?"

Sandra opened the door. Clearly the guy was interested more in his suit than in her.

The guy opened the trunk by remote. "My name is Nick and yours is...?"

"Sandra."

"Well Sandra, toss your pack into the trunk and fetch a couple of beers from the chiller unit."

"You're not permitted to drink and drive."

"I'll toss one back while parked here. Get it?"

"Yes, but you could toss in the word please?"

"Please, please, please Sandra. A beer before I expire. I'm not carrying water."

"But I am."

"Don't fuck up for me Sandra. I desire and long, flavorsome sip of quality beer."

"Yes sir, coming right up sir."

"Cut the sarcasm otherwise I'll begin liking you. Usually I have beautiful blonde women around me with brains the size of peas."

"Either that or they anticipate you expect them to be like that and be ready to open their legs."

"We have 200 miles to go Sandra and already I sense you and I am going to have some deep conversations. I like it. But right now get the fucking beers, PLEASE."

Well, well, she thought. A green-eyed smart-ass with a bit of character and unlike many Americans used the F-word normally in conversation. Handsome, well-heeled and possibly not a menace. This could be fun and he might take her around Hollywood if she was lovely to him; how lovely would depend how well he measured up.

The beer dripped down her throat like liquid gold. Sandra was sure no women's drink tasted that good, given the environment, and told him that. 

Nick laughed and said good thinking. "I can think of another environment when a woman's drink comes to the fore -- a half-finished jug of Martini, soft music and dim lights when, as you put it, a woman is about to open her legs for me."

Sandra blushed and wished she'd not been so cheeky like that to a total stranger but he moved on instead of pressing for a comment.

"Your American is patchy, are you English?"

"No, try getting that brain of yours working." God, there she was being cheeky again.

"Australian?"

Sandra was quite surprised. "Actually next-door, New Zealand. Do you know it?"

"Never been there but we supply product there."

At the casual way he said product Sandra wondered if he meant sex aids.

"To the Canterbury City Council in fact."

"You mean the Christchurch City Council in Canterbury."

He grinned and finished his beer and went to toss it out the window.

"Don't you dare, our precious land is not to be used as a refuse dump. Hand that to me -- and that stupid childish test about my knowledge of New Zealand was pathetic. Go check my rear outside pocket in my backpack where you'll find my American and New Zealand passports establishing my identity."

"Sorry. You are aware I picked you up, so am certain of nothing about you."

"God, how can you be apologetic and offensive in the same sentence?"

Nick started the car and grinned, "This is going to be one hell of a road run to LA."

They talked and talked with a great many laughs and Sandra knew Nick was taking a more than casual interest in her and once he even reached across and gently stroked her cheek without saying anything. Very strange.

As they began descending on the last leg towards the carpet of bright lights Sandra, exhausted from three weeks on the road, fell asleep. She stirred when she felt herself being carried and then Nick's reassuring voice telling her to sleep on.

Sandra awoke in the morning and stared at the ornate ceiling. She was in a hotel.

There was a knock at the door and she said brightly, "Come in."

A middle-aged woman entered followed by a woman about twenty-eight, Sandra's age, carrying a breakfast tray.

"This is lovely. Where is Mr...um?"

"Mr Love ma'am. He goes to work at 6:00. Pass Miss Sandra her tray Belinda. We apologize for the use of your first name but Mr Love had forgotten your surname."

"Men have a habit of doing that, don't they?" Sandra laughed and thought the women looked horrified.

"I'm Mrs Roberts and Belinda is Miss Rice and I assure you Mr Love doesn't forget names. Obviously he has entered into a relationship with you without knowing your name."

"I did invite him to read my passports."

"You have more than one passport? Are you a special agent?"

"No, I'm a hitchhiker. Please tell me the name of this hotel?"

Both women looked at her disbelievingly.

"It's Crago Mansion, Miss Sandra, Mr Love's home and you are in the Princess room in the guest wing. Mr Love has brought home, countless women -- we are too polite to count -- since his marital break-up and none have ever been invited to stay the full night and none have ever seen the Princess room. Please take this envelope and buy clothes. Belinda will accompany if you wish; she is very modern and knows all about style."

"Thank you Belinda, yes please. What on earth is this -- it's hundreds of dollars?"

"My instructions were to give your $3000 to spend on clothes and to get a lot done to your hair. Miss Sandra, you are either a special agent or a dispossessed princess. There can be no other explanation. None at all."

"What an arrogant tart," Sandra snapped and when Belinda moved to smother a laugh Sandra said kindly, "Loosen up when you're with me Belinda. Now tell me what's this all about?"

"You were in a state of exhaustion when Mr Love brought you in last night."

"I was travel weary, long, long days on the road and tramping off to see some of the natural sights. So why am I here?"

Belinda colored and said she'd rather not say.

"Come on Belinda, cough up. I don't have to slap you around do I? Er, that's me just kidding."

"The only explanation I have is Mr Love is besotted with you. You must have pleased him enormously."

"Belinda, I can tell you I don't think I'm anything exceptional at sex and I deny I've had sex with Mr Love, er Nick. Although I was deeply asleep, when I woke up I would have known somebody had had sex with me, wouldn't I?"

"This conversation is making me nervous."

"Belinda, I need someone around me I can trust. If you were asleep, even drunk, and were shafted you'd know when you woke up? The truth please."

"It's happened twice and I knew -- I had to clean up and walked with that familiar slightly stretched feeling."

"Exactly. Do you believe my denial?"

"Absolutely."

Belinda was asked to make a hair appointment but when drying Sandra's back after the guest emerged from the bath said Sandra might have to wait days for an appointment time.

"Call a salon and say you wish to make a time for today for a hair restyling and re-coloring for Mr Nick Love's sister. Give the phone number. They'll say they'll get back to you as they will wish to check out the phone number."

"But this is improper."

"Just a teeny lie Belinda but I'm not going to tell Nick how I managed to get a same-day hair appointment and you're not and as sure as hell the salon is not going to phone him to say they'll done his sister's hair."

"Very well but it won't work."

"It will work, Belinda. They'll offer three times, please accept the earliest time."

Belinda made the call and was looking horrified at the awful clothes Sandra had pulled out of her backpack and had asked would Sandra consider wearing some of Belinda's clothes when the house phone went. She answered quickly before anyone else did and said 10:30 would be fine.

"Mr Love said you came from New York but you seem to know how LA works?"

"It's not rocket science darling. Please run and fetch me a pair of low boots, cut-offs and a top that I can stretch over my size larger boobs and show my midriff."

"How do you know how younger LA women..."

"I go to movies, lots of them. Get it?"

"Yes I do. God, you are so worldly."

"What are you Belinda?"

"Born and raised in Nebraska with a college degree in English Lit. I came to Hollywood to try to become an assistant screenwriter, but have failed."

"Are we near Hollywood?"

"We're living within the district. Your salon is just off Rodeo."

"Oh God, Rodeo Drive. I've fallen into Heaven."

"I really don't think so. Hollywood stinks."

Sandra hugged her new pal and told her not to be a poor loser. "You lack worldliness just yet to be a screenwriter. You ought to try for one-off scrip rewrite jobs where what is required is a general tidy up, more direct writing and the injection of greater sense of drama. Editing people will take care of grammar and literals."

"You really think so?"

"Yes of course, you pull in a contract and I'll work on it with you. I've worked teaching English and have a masters in English Lit with honors."

"Oh God, I've landed in Heaven, I think."

They laughed and when Belinda returned with the requested clothes she had to pull the cut-off shorts on to Sandra and Sandra pulled on her thickest pair of socks overdue for a wash to wear with the boots that were a little loose.

"You look sensational. I must say you wash up to become pretty."

"Thank you Belinda, your word-power rather lacked at the finish."

"I meant to say beautiful when groomed."

"Ah darling, kiss-kiss. What are pal you are. Since the boss is out to seduce me let's find the clothes to do the job for him. He may have trouble getting it up after the high life he leads."

Belinda looked horrified. "Oh no, you've got it wrong. He's dropped the partner he was taking tonight -- well found someone else for her actually -- and he's taking you instead. It is a white-tie charity fund-raising dinner. Some of the big stars will be there to show cleavage or their new guy or both and male stars will be showing off their pregnant girlfriends."

"Oh God, please coach me intensely Belinda, I have no idea. I'm only a little school teacher from little old New Zealand."

"Oh fallen out of Heaven, have we?"

"Cheeky. Where's New Zealand Belinda?"

"Um, somewhere in Europe?"

"I know enough about your State of Nebraska to surprise you Belinda. We do really have to help each other to grow."

Mrs Roberts looked at Miss Sandra, held the doorway for support and said weakly, "I'll fetch you a coat."

"Oh come on Mrs Roberts, this is the 21st Century and this is Hollywood."

"Mr Love will be angry with me for allowing you loose like that."

"Hush Mrs Roberts. Go a lie down and I promise I'll do nothing to get my photo in the newspaper

* * *

Nick's ex-wife Virginia, heiress of the late Nexus Crago and his late wife June, was the controlling shareholder of Crago Industries International and after ditching Nick held on to him as president of the corporation because her consultants failed to find anyone she believed she would trust or was as competent as Nick. 'Let's stick with the slime ball we have rather than bring in a misfit,' she told her board, with Nick outside the room of course but executive directors on Nick's side were quick to inform him of what his outgoing wife, who was the chairman, had said.

Nick was in the boardroom with executive directors having a drink after an executive meeting and with the TV news running on the big screen when Nick held up his hand and conversation died. The headlines were being read and up flashed a photo of a blonde with a purple streak through her hair. Nick had recognized the nose and the name, Sandra Clemow. He remembered now Sandra had called herself Clemow. 

"What's she on TV for?" he demanded.

No one had heard but company chief administrator and an executive Jennifer Bliss said it could be because of her breasts -- weren't they great in that teenager outfit she was wearing.

"Right talk but shut-up everyone when that item is screened."

It was the final item.

"And now for our daily something different item. Freelance video cameraman Bruno Katz caught this little cameo just before 1:00 today on Rodeo Drive when the alarms at Peters the Jewelry People went off and two burly hoods rushed out with trays of diamond watches and nothing between them and their waiting getaway car apart from this cute blonde New Zealander Sandra Clemow, visiting from New York and her pal Belinda Wray who lives locally and rewrites scripts. Sandra reputedly said, 'Hold my handbag Belinda, here we go'. Here's how the young Kiwi lady described what she did:

"I stepped into the bigger guy and kicked him in the nuts. He went down and the other guy caught me with a roadhouse in the eye but he was off-balance, so I gave him my best karate chop from schoolgirl days in the throat and he hit the cement vomiting. Some good people sat on the thugs until the cops came. I jumped into the getaway car and the driver raised his hands in the air, although I wasn't carrying, and sat petrified while I reached across him and removed the keys. The cops arrived and attempted to also arrest me but I told them to [bleep] off. That's all there was to it really. Piece of cake." 

"There you are folk. This is your news from LA tonight. Piece of cake really," smiled the male news reader while his female associate said, "They sure breed them tough in Noo Zealand." 

"Ohmigod Nick," said Jennifer. "That Belinda is on your house staff and that suggests that New Zealand woman is staying with you guys.

"Well yes," Nick hedged.

"Guys, I think we have just been looking at the new Mrs Nick Love."

"Shut up Jennifer or I'll pin back your ears."

"Do that Nick and I'll call in Wonder Woman Sandra to sort you out."

Everyone laughed and after another drink Nick went off to his office suite to shower and get ready to go to the Gloria Swanson Center where he was due to meet Sandra at 8:00 for cocktails. Meanwhile, at Crago Mansion, Belinda was still comforting Mrs Roberts who'd all but fainted at the appearance of Sandra and Belinda on TV.

"You only instructed me to keep her out of the newspapers Mrs Roberts, you said nothing about TV. And I don't think it's correct to say that I allowed Mr Love's guest to be exposed to danger. That TV clip clearly showed it's the thugs in Hollywood who are in danger as long as Sandra is in town."

Soon after Nick reached the center he received a call from Belinda who put on Mrs Roberts to speak to him. "Everything is fine Mr Love but I'm keeping Sandra back with an ice pack over her left eye. It looks dreadful."

"Well perhaps she should remain at home."

"I told her that but she said if I attempted to stop she'd wop my one. One does that mean?"

"I can only guess and my other guess is you won't want to know. Tell her it doesn't matter if she decides not to come but if she does she must be here to be seated by 8:55 because the event is being broadcast live on TV."

Chapter 2

Belinda delivered Sandra to Nick standing at the door. Sandra looked stunning in an emerald silk dress with a loosely laced front from the waist up that showed half of both breasts attempting to squeeze out.

"Your, your..." He couldn't get it out.

"Breasts? Sorry Nick, they are a lively pair."

"No, your eye."

"It looks worse than it feels Nick, believe me. Don't look at it and you won't feel a thing. Look at my tits instead, I won't mind."

As they entered an auditorium a beautiful PR woman advanced on them. "Miss Clemow? I'm Angelina Honeywell." 

"Yes I'm Sandra Clemow and hello, this looks a thunderously exciting and colorful event."

"Thunderously? Well perhaps. Congratulations on your outstanding performance as an honorary citizen of Hollywood this afternoon. Many of us watched it on TV. May we have something off you to auction?"

"You could have my bra but I'm not wearing one, ditto panties. The store clerk said not to wear panties as it would show a panty line."

"Rightly so. Anything else?"

"I know -- an earring. Other people here tonight with money to throw around may have seen me on TV this evening cracking those two guys. When it is being offered have a spotlight hit me and I'll take off the second earring to increase the offer to a pair. That may get something going."

"It very well could Miss Clemow. My other responsibility is to alert you that you may be asked to stand during the introduction of VIPs."

"Me a VIP? You have to be kidding. Oh, I get it, I'm with Mr Love, one of your principle sponsors, as I learned on the way here."

"Have a great night Miss Clemow."

"You too Angelina. You are so beautiful with a figure to die for."

"I am dying attempting to retain it," Angelina smiled. "You should have a screen test, not for your looks but for your whole being and your smart way of talking. You have it all."

As they walked arm-in-arm to the top table, press and PR cameras flashing at them, Nick said, "You did unbelievably well with Angelina."

"I just spoke to her like any other woman. Who is she?"

"A supermodel from Chicago, brought in especially for tonight. Usually she's treated with huge deference. She appeared to be really taken by you speaking to her as if she was an ordinary person."

"Well isn't she?"

"Oh, if you only knew."

People at the top table turned in their chairs to be introduced to Sandra but all seemed to know her, which she thought was strange. When she and Nick were seated the introductions of VIPS began and Sandra was pleased to see Angelieque taking the lead role.


Dynamic Hollywood Newcomer



Rick, thinking Sandra would be out of her depth, was amazed when she whispered the state or countries almost ever star being introduced was from and who their partners were and gave him details of more than half the directors and producers. Within minutes he'd been almost blown away by Sandra's knowledge.

The principal sponsors including Nick were introduced and then Angelieque then said, 'Finally, our special guest tonight from Noo Zealand, the new Miss Wonder Woman." 

Sandra joined the clapping until Nick said, "It's you, stand!"

Sandra broke protocol of course by speaking. "By Gawd this is a glittering event," she screamed. "Thanks for the welcome Angie and everyone here spend big tonight or Angie and I will come around and take scalps."

The crowed loved here and screamed and clapped in delight.

"Angie -- that's a new name for me and certainly beats the name many colleagues call me and that's SuperBitch."

When the clapping died Angelieque said, "We weren't going to show this because we didn't think our heroine would make it tonight with that smasher of an eye of hers. Dim the lights please and we would point out those who you who are sensitive to four-letter words must place your hands over your hears because this version of the TV clip has not been bleeped."

The huge packed venue exploded in applause as the lights turned on.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen but before dinner is served let's have the one quick auction. "Nigel Patton will now auction one of our heroine's earrings I collected from Sandra as she arrived here tonight. You're on Nigel."

The lively auctioneer drew a final bid of $2700 and halted bidding.

The spotlight fell on to Sandra and she was handed a microphone.

"My gawd, a Kiwi charity auction in a small town would have auctioned a hundred items to raise two thousand seven hundred bucks, but I'll tell you what. I was wearing these earrings this morning when those thugs ran into me. Here add this one to Lot One," Sandra said taking off the earring. "I'm not sure they are particularly valuable; I bought them at a JC Penney sale. Just up the ante a little more huh -- it's for charity."

The bidding topped $3300 and at that point the second bidder dropped out and Nick stepped in and called, "Five thousand dollars and I'll donate the earrings to the Police Museum." There was a cheer and the ear-rings were knocked down to him and Sandra hugged and kissed him, oblivious to the media cameras.

Kissing Sandra outside the Princess room Nick said. "Tonight was magic, partly because of the way Angelieque responded to you. At our last auction we raised a record amount and tonight we eclipsed that by just over 40%. We are also very proud of you. Tomorrow at 11.00 I want you at the jeweler's shop where the jeweler wants you to pick out a pair of earrings to the value of $5000 trade price plus taxes. 

"Very well, I'll go providing Belinda accompanies me."

"Yes of course, but why?"

"If Belinda hadn't been with me I may not have been able to take the action I did. A lady doesn't just drop her handbag irresponsibly. One must keep up standards."

Nick looked at Sandra thoughtfully and turned and began walking about, only to return to catch her about to close the door.

"Oh, you want one more kiss?"

He grinned and kissed the puckered lips.

"I'm a little too tired to show you my breasts. I assume you are not unknown to women so I'd like to ensure they smooth, firm and creamed before they come under scrutiny." 

He leered.

Sandra waited, knowing his reason for returning was to say something.

Nick said he would like her to come on to his corporate offices after being to the jewelers. There was someone he wished her to meet.

As a forming request opened Sandra's mouth he smiled: "Yes, Belinda may accompany you. Mrs Roberts will feel like wringing my neck with me allowing Belinda to be taken away from her duties so much. But then again Mrs Roberts told me tonight she was so proud of you."

Sandra lowered her eyes in modesty and when raising them saw he was striding off ten feet away, waving a hand behind him like a penguin's flipper.

* * *

Belinda gawked at the building while Sandra watch what passing female office workers were wearing.

"Ohmigod, it's a skyscraper Sandra."

"Crap, about fifteen levels I reckon. I love the black granite finish. It announces the company exists for the long-term."

"What?"

Sandra laughed and said Belinda must learn not to take everyone she heard for gospel. "I read that description in a magazine once of an architect describing why he'd chosen black granite to sheath the exterior of his building that had won a prestigious design award. That building was a bank, so the quote was believable. This outfit makes sex aids or something similar, doesn't it?"

Her friend looked horrified. "In its five plants it manufacturers electronic immobilizers for motor vehicles, control devices for domestic elevators and restaurant and hotel dumb waiters, other things I don't know about and its main production is traffic and airport runway traffic control systems, ie traffic lights."

"Do you also work in the corporation's PR department?"

Belinda gave Sandra a sly smile. She said when applying for her position as a housemaid the second question Mrs Roberts asked her was what did Belinda's prospective employers' company produce. She was the only applicant selected for final interviews able to answer that question.

"Well, that's a relief to me," Sandra laughed. "Now that I am aware a brain lurks I may very well succeed in helping ignite your writing career."

"Bitch," Belinda hissed and they looked at each other and grinned. The friendship was really taking hold. 

Sandra and Belinda arrived ninety seconds before their appointed time and the snooty PA made them wait that ninety seconds before picking up her phone and advising her superior Misses Clemow and her companion had arrived.

"That cold-ass woman has to go," Sandra said, not talking her eyes off the woman.

Belinda said probably the woman was hired to be a tigress as a shield for the boss.

"Ah yes, good one Belinda. By the way, have you thought of shortening your name to Lindy?"

Belinda tensed and she faced Sandra. "My dear parents gave me my name."

"Relax babe. Belinda will still appear on your driver's license and in official documents. What we are doing here is demonstrating the flexibility of the lovely name your parents gave you. In effect we are changing nothing."

"We?"

"You are becoming Lindy aren't you?"

"I shall torture myself thinking about it."

"Fine, take as long as you like. There's no hurry."

Cold Ass led Sandra and Belinda into an enormous office. Nick was leaning on the front of his desk, talking on his cell phone. He blew a kiss at Sandra and the two women seated in front of him reacted, the older woman looking shocked and the younger woman smiling slyly as they turned to see the object of the chief's attention. Both immediately recognized the woman in an incredibly tight black suit and a black eye as the heroine from TV. They stood and moved over to Sandra.

"Hi, I'm Sandra Clemow and this is my adviser Lindy Rice."

"Good morning, I'm Mrs Bliss, director of corporate administration and this is Wendy Rogers from PR."

"Pleased to meet you guys, do we kiss, shake hands or stand awkwardly?" Sandra said disarmingly. "I'm not up with corporate America and anyway I'd guess being on the West Coast you guys out here do your own thing."

"A neutral smile and slight smile would be in order," said Jennifer.

"Oh come one, shake my hand Mrs Bliss."

"Thank you. And a light kiss for you Wendy. God, you look to have the horsepower to handle ten men and are beautiful to boot."

Wendy looked delighted, offered Sandra a cheek and shook hands with Sandra's companion who was still getting used to the idea of being called Lindy.

Jennifer said, "Come through to the boardroom where we're serving a light lunch and I'll begin the briefing."

As the women sipped wine Jennifer explained Mr Love wanted the corporation's 'Induction Handbook for New Personnel' updated and modernized.

"The head of PR Mrs Wright is furious this project is not being put through her department so I've seconded Wendy here to serve as your liaison person. Wendy is Mrs Wright's daughter without title but I thought she would be more appropriate for this liaison than the department's assistant manager. That's all you need to know. Wendy will be available to you from 9:00 tomorrow morning and will spend all day with you, beginning by showing you our corporate DVD we show visiting VIPs and send to individuals inquiring about purchasing stock in the corporation."

"May we also see DVDs the plants have outlining their operations and we'd like to visit one of the plants, preferably the one that produces traffic lights."

"Well yes, if you think that's necessary."

"Before Lindy and I begin to write we need to possess the 'feel' of the corporation."

"The feel?" Jennifer said, somewhat mystified while Wendy flashed the two visitors a dazzling smile.

"Wendy will know what I mean Mrs Bliss. I would think you are finance-oriented, right?"

"Yes but I don't see what that has to do with this point?"

Sandra smiled beautifully at Jennifer and said, "Quite" to confuse the narrow-focused executive even further.

Nick entered the room apologizing, bounded up to Sandra and kissed her rather deeply, tickled Lindy aka Belinda under the chin and pouring a wine asked, "Are you okay with this project Jennifer?"

"Y-yes, I am," she said, holding out the glass for Nick to refill and struggling to smile.

"Well, negotiations completed are they?" Nick asked.

"Virtually -- just the matter of remuneration."

Nick didn't back offer. "The offer is no expenses payable, you take up to three months and when your final draft is accepted by the PR Department you as team leader receive 65% of the $30,000 and Belinda..."

"She has just become Lindy."

"...and Lindy gets the remainder."

"Thirty K?" Sandra wheezed.

"If you justify your claim we're prepared to top off at forty K," said Jennifer, "but I suggest don't push young lady."

"I'm thinking thirty K is heaps too much."

"Well in that case..."

Nick grinned and said the contract was fixed at thirty K. "Now, let's move over to lunch -- I requested it be kept light, focusing on turkey, chicken and seafood because you slender young things will not wish to bloat out..."

Riding home in a cab Lindy said, "What will Mrs Roberts say when I reveal I'll be moonlighting."

"Learn to ride with the flow Lindy but my bet the boss has already ask Mrs Roberts to shift you to the room two from me and to temporarily change the room between us into our collaborative office."

"How can you possibly think that?"

"The boss thinks smart and I try to think a bit smarter."

"Well, I'll deal with Mrs Roberts," Lindy smiled. "I must say the boss is head-over with you."

"You're fantasizing Lindy. Apart from the occasional quite perky kiss he won't touch me."

"Exactly!" He will pluck you slowly."

Sandra grinned and said didn't Lindy mean the F-word?

"Be quite and listen. He will slowly advance like a creeping paralysis and then, when he's all but unzipped, we'll have a grand dinner party at which he will propose publicly to you and you'll accept. He'll smash away the dishes and have you on the table before his drunken and cheering guests."

Looking rather white around the gills, Sandra said Lindy shouldn't joke like that. "However, it's a great scene for a script. I'm pleased you are thinking along those lines.

"The boss will creep over you like a red fog and he'll take you in spectacular fashion. Mark my words."

"Well, he better hurry. His lack of commitment is beginning to bore me. I need a man."

Lindy looked devastated. "Does that also mean you are thinking about returning to Noo Zealand."

"It's New Zealand Lindy and yes, the thought has risen within me again. He's not coming home for dinner tonight. Oh lucky me, I'll have time to do my nails, spending an hour on each one."

Mrs Roberts greeted them at the door and offered her congratulations to Belinda. "You are moving upstairs and I invite you to help me select your successor. Also ladies could you tour through the mansion with me and pick out furniture you'd like for your office between your rooms."

"Our collaborative office?" Lindy asked, staring at Sandra who looked not at all interested.

"What's a collaborative office dear?"

"You should put that question to Sandra Mrs Roberts. Sandra knows everything."

As Sandra sat in the Afternoon Lounge listening to music and staring out the windows looking the perfect character of a bored young woman, Lindy went out and made a call and the woman who answered listened and said as good as done. At 6:30 Linda was called to main foyer. "A gentleman to see you Miss."

CHAPTER 3

A guy in a plain white T-shirt, wide chest and waist just beginning to thicken and wearing shorts, sandals and a big smile said "Hi Miss Clemow. I'm here to take you roller skating on the LA beachfront and then to hang out with some folk I know over seafood while we watch the surfers and the beach bums and beach sluts."

"Oh yes, and who are you?"

"My apologies, Lane Wright, Wendy's brother. Wendy works in PR -- you met her yesterday."

"Yes, indeed. Wendy's married brother?"

Lane said yes and showed all his teeth. "It's okay, my wife Felicity said to enjoy myself and added an adventure like this could happen to her when she traveled."

"She also said not to catch anything?"

Coloring slightly Lane stared and muttered, "How the hell did you know that?"

"Felicity seems like my kind of girl. Yes, I'll accompany you but don't expect me to roll over for you on a whim."

"Ah, er, I think I know what you are saying."

"I'll get changed, won't be a minute. Study the ceiling."

Lang grinned and said she was okay. He looked at Sandra's favorite baggy shorts. "Laid-back elegance is cool. Many babes with your shape wear a bikini. Sunglasses and bring a wrap for later."

Sandra returned in a yellow bikini because yellow or green looked great on her olive tan.

Lane's eyes popped and he said, "Jesus."

"Mary perhaps but not Him."

"What?"

"Come along Lane, open that mind of yours. What pays the rent?"

"Head of security at one of the studios."

"Know any guys or gals working in script?"

"Yeah, our favorites. They drink a lot and think most of the stars are crap. I'll arrange introductions."

"How did you know I wanted and introduction or two?"

"Almost every does. Why should you be any different?"

"Fuck I must be so boring?"

Lane said patiently, "Sandra, I almost split my pants when Wendy said who you were. She sometimes asks me to escort a female company client or two to The Beach but usually they are far from being...well, you know what I mean."

"Big and baggy?"

He grinned. "Some of us saw you on TV or your pictures in the newspapers."

"A five-second wonder."

"You wear that black eye like a patch. You'll get respect on The Beach, especially from the babes."

"The women, I don't believe it?"

"Well listen to this. Most of the babes know the good-looking men often like other good-looking men while half of the others are either on dirt, look like dirt or are on muscle-building steroids want the babes to just look at them than ...er..."

"Suck?"

"Yeah," Lane said, shooting Sandra a grateful glance.

They went to The Beach on something that looked vaguely like an iron bedstead on wheels with a windscreen and mandatory safety gear.

"I do skate but would prefer not to dressed like this; I bruise easy."

"Cool, we'll walk."

Several people either called to Lane by name or saluted to him and nodded to Sandra. Then four twenties-something with huge boobs and tiny butts and bikinis the size of which made Sandra feel rather overdressed, went by and glanced at them and one called out, "Holy shit, it's her." They came back and wheeled on their rollers right in front of Lane and Sandra.

"You're that Slugger Dame on TV the night before last," said the very tall and beautiful Afro-American."

"Yes, this is Sandra Clemow from Noo Zealand," Lane said gleefully. "You wouldn't think she packs a killer punch, would you?"

"Lane, please."

A stone white blonde with a nose ring said, "Killer boobs too."

"Have a nice day Kiwi," called the third girl in an Australian accent.

The skaters returned in the direction they'd come from, moving well ahead of Lane and Sandra.

Soon heaps a people were calling out "Hi Sandra and Lane."

Lane explained to Sandra those bored skaters were spreading the word about Sandra.

"Bush telegraph?"

"Huh?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sandra, be a pal and if anyone suggests I'm tailing you please don't deny it; just remain...um..."

"Mysteriously uncommunicative?"

"Yeah, perfect."

"You're been such good company Lane and I'm rather sexed up. You are welcome to attend to me with your mouth later. I won't be embarrassed if you decline."

"Hell no, the answer is yes and I'd like to..."

"Sorry buddy, I'm saving that for someone else right now. However I'll treat you first if I can get my mouth around it."

Lane's face suggested Christmas was coming for him months early this year.

* * *

Sandra found Nick working on company papers in his study when she arrived home at 10:30.

"Hi sweetie," he said jumping up and kissing her with a little sign of passion.

"Ooooh," that was lovely.

"Like another?"

"Yes please," Sandra said, confident about her breath because she'd fired Lane over the dashboard of his vehicle instead of swallowing and had been to a well-stocked bathroom to clean up when they called in to an up-market place for coffee.

Nick pulled away, eyes looking dark.

"Hmmmm. Mrs Roberts said a guy called and took you into LA to the beaches."

" Yes, and I wore my bikini - see!" Sandra opened her wrap fully and then closed her eyes in horror thinking what if her crotch was damp.

"Jesus," Nick said and Sandra's mind asked where had she had that retort before. "You are magnificent. Sit down and chat."

"Thank you Nick. Wendy from you PR department whom I'm working with called and asked if she could send someone over to show me The Beach and I said yes, thinking it would be one of her girlfriends," Sandra lied.

"No problem -- we enjoy an informal social scene here on the coast. I'm glad you went."

"Nick, if you are going to make yourself available, to show a real interest in me, I won't want to go anywhere with another guy. I know you had business commitments but I wish it had been you who introduced me to The Beach."

"Right, tomorrow evening we'll do it again on rollers."

"I won't be able to wear a bikini -- if I fall on rollers I'll bruise easily."

"You'll be working at HQ tomorrow so during your lunch break go out and buy gloves and elbow and knee pads. I'll be wearing mine. I'll take you to a colorful beachfront where I'm pretty well known."

"Oh Nick, I'd really love that," Sandra jumped up and hugged him. When the kiss finished he patted her ass and said kindly he had another couple of hours' work to get through.

* * *

As the parked Sandra realized they were back at the same beach.

"Oh Nick, could we go to another beach, this looks so crowded."

"No, this is a top spot and I want you to see Californian beach culture at its wildest and most varied. That is, if you can skate."

"Yes, yes, I'll bet by."

"I bet you can -- you have the look of a skater. Are you embarrassed being seen with me?"

"Nick, don't be such a foul tease. You have it all. You are my favorite leading man."

"Wow Sandra, that compliment earns you just about anything."




Dynamic Hollywood Newcomer



This was it. Sandra was in position to take the plunge. She took it.

"Listen to me Nick."

He looked at her intently.

"I don't want much: Just a little loving will be fine."

"Loving?"

"Yes Nick. For a woman it's the fuzzy feeling a women feels along with the sex when she feels she's right for her man and the man acts as if she's right for him and he shows it."

"You are looking for marriage?"

"No Nick. You stirred me from the moment I decided to get into your car. I was apprehensive and yet wide open and we just gelled. I've never been so comfortable with a man. You darted from being kind to a little aggressive and scary and yet you kept your focus on me and said many nice things to me and we seemed to, uh, what is it? Oh yes, blend. If you remember it had nothing to do about sex."

"It is always about sex."

"Well I remained on an ethereal plane. I found it to be creative, with you in full cry with me and, believe it or not, an almost an intellectual theme ran through as we verbally engaged. Another thing: not once were you smutty. It was so good I couldn't believe I was with a man." 

"Wow."

"Thank you. I'm ready for a little bit of loving Nick, whenever you are ready, it that's what you want to do. A girl has got to have a bit of loving for her inner happiness. But don't be apprehensive. This is not the lead up to me worming into your life and anyway as you know with the way you work there is not room in your life for any woman."

"Well, that comment is only a little short of shafting me."

"Come on, you're a tough guy. It's the truth and you know it."

They stood outside the vehicle hauling their gear from the trunk. Nick absentmindedly scratched his crotch or perhaps was adjusting his board shorts.

"Thinking of me Nick?" 

Nick pulled his hand away as if it had been harpooned. He recovered, grinned and said, "Ease back sweetheart. We're at The Beach."

As they skated past a crowded beach-shack restaurant with patient customers lined up in front of it people in large numbers called out:

"Hi Sandra."

"Hi Kiwi."

"Hi Killer."

"Who's Mr Good-looking Sandy?"

She waved and even more people waved back.

"What the hell was that?"

Sandra giggled. "Oh, wait till this lot let's rip."

They negotiated strollers and skaters, cyclists and skate-boarders and a real roar went up.

"Sandra, Sandra, Sandra!"

Someone yelled her eye was looking better and a drunken woman yelled. "Give the dude one for me darling."

"You're a celebrity," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Hi Nick," someone yelled and he waved gratefully.

"It's a two-day wonder. Some people recognized me last night and some babes on skates preceded us announcing my imminent arrival. It was embarrassing, quite crazy but good fun really. This beachfront hums as is where everyone thinks its cool."

"Well, it's a little more family oriented down here, you didn't come down here last night did you?"

"No, stopped back there where that noisy lot were."

Nick said good and pulled into a restaurant but sighed when realizing how crowded it was. The big woman controlling the line of patient hopeful diners looked at Sandra and screamed, "Ohmigod."

Everyone looked thinking she'd been knifed by an exasperated would-be-diner when the woman just stood and gawked and people went back to idle chatter. The woman kissed Sandra, whispered something and led her and Nick to a reserved table right at the back of the establishment but at least they were seated.

"What did she say?" Nick asked thinking it would be more heroine crap.

"On just something it was a pleasure having a celebrity of my caliber in her restaurant. She's fetching a bottle of top red with her compliments.

During the meal Nick realized just what a charming woman Sandra was and the easy way she handled people. A mother of two teenagers sitting nearby came over and thanked Sandra for doing her bit for assisting to clean up LA. "I went to New Zealand on a ski trip when I was twenty and absolutely loved it."

"Well, there you go. I've loved being in America and had only just finishing hitching across from New York when that incident occurred in Hollywood. But I'm living in Hollywood at present and find it's too my liking and this boardwalk culture down here -- I've not experienced anything like it. Take care and don't you and your husband overlook taking the kids to New Zealand for a vacation."

The woman beamed. "Yes, what a wonderful idea." The woman turned to Nick and said, "I don't know who you are mister but if you are eligible I advise you not to let Sandra slip through your fingers. She's an absolute gem."

"That you ma'am. I value advice from older women.

A guy came over and said he was a Viet Nam vet. "Spent time working with a Kiwi unit. Your boys were good. Good to see Kiwi women also kick ass. By the way, I watched you skate in. You showed skill and a great ass."

"Why thank you sir. If that's your wife you're with don't forget to make a charming comment about her ass from time to time even if you have to lie."

"Yes Miss Sandra. It's been a real privilege to meet you. And you sir."

Sandra said, "We Kiwis were angry about the asshole way you guys were treated politically when returning home. We felt sickened."

"Oh God, thank you Miss Sandra. That's music to my ears. I'd like to shake hands but this right arm and hand is not mine, not really."

"Then kiss me solider."

The guy limped away wiping his eyes.

"That was one of the most moving things I've seen for a long time Sandra."

"Thanks Nick. Well, in the main America has been very kind to me."

They sat in the car park, Nick showing no inclination to drive away.

"Want to cuddle?"

"Yes, some of us joke its part of beach culture."

"Just a minute while I slip off my bikini bottom."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. I believe a good lick a day keeps the doctor away."

The vehicle rocked as Nick rocked in wild laughter.

"Right, that's got rid of the preliminaries Nick. Go get it pal."

Red-faced and panting from carrying Sandra up the stairs Nick managed to kick the door of the Princess Room closed and staggered to a chair in a near state of collapse.

"Silly boy, you should have just carried me across the upstairs landing. This chair is good for what we want to do. In the meantime I'll unzip you and return favors."

Twenty minutes later the still red-faced Nick had Sandra leaning over the back of the heavy chair and was plowing into her with the long, slow strokes that had her gurgling in ecstasy while unavoidably dribbling saliva on to the floor. He emptied himself into her, catching one of her gushes and she whimpered away tell him what a lovely time she was having. As he stood back looking around for a towel Sandra turned, took him in hand and took care of that basic clean-up for him.

Nick couldn't believe she'd done that for him and looked anything but a whore. He knew she was utterly enjoying being with him and that filled his heart and head. He then knew unequivocally she was the one.

Sandra led Nick into the shower and washed him all over. He though he was finished. But Sandra wasn't finished. She played with him and when she began rubbing her soft cheek over his gut his dick grew harder and harder. Sandra's breasts were swollen, showing the marks of his rough play. He sucked them and she thrust a nipple into his mouth and commanded, "Bite, but not too hard."

Nick, almost overwhelmed, was aware he had a raging hard-on and yet minutes ago was yawning ready for a nap. He fingered her unnecessarily because she was already wet and moaning and when he attempted to lift her on to his erection she said tenderly, "Oh no, you are almost drained of energy. Sit on the floor with your legs slightly apart."

Nick did that thinking this would be uncomfortable. It was. Sandra shuffled up on her butt and shoved her legs over his and around behind him and with great energy pulled forward to close the gap and he just seemed to slide into her without effort but he still found her reasonably tight. The floor was hard and she was a little heavy on him. 

"Don't work too hard, just rock and eventually we'll get ourselves off."

Oh yeah? Get off on the most uncomfortable position in years from which he'd entered a woman?

They rocked and sweated although saw no sweat because shower water was cascading on them. They both were red-faced and tired but Rick could tell by the intense look in Sandra's eyes she was focused completely of fucking him to produce the result she wanted for him. That look pepped him up and her breasts, having apparently drained of extra blood flow, were now bouncing around almost obscenely although the rocking was reasonably modest. 

Obviously Sandra was putting her back into the job. Yes, he could see her stomach muscles moving in and out as she timed her away stroke to his. He concentrated on reciprocating positively and once that was right continued leaning back on his hands like she was and just stared at her and began talking dirty. She reciprocated and as she yelled about shoving a dildo up his ass until it disappeared he groaned and began pumping, believing they hadn't needed the filthy talk in order to fire but it had added to the general atmosphere of totally switched on sex. He knew by Sandra's inflamed face and panting her bell had rung as well.

Gradually they straightened up, Rick knowing he was half deflated but he knew her softness was still around it. Slowly they placed their arms around each other and kissed with minimal effort because they both were exhausted. It was, as Rick would recall and tell Sandra later, the most erotic little series of kisses he'd ever had. She would say she had to agree with that.

They awoke around 4:00 and Sandra tried unsuccessfully to help Rick regain his erection.

"I've never been like this before," he said, his brow puckered.

"You've probably never been really fucked before. We went at it like pigs. Come on, I don't mind."

"Really?"

"No, of course not. You'll bounce back. Well I feel I have received my little bit of loving. Thank you dear prince."

"Are you going home?"

"No but you are being banished to your bedroom. I'll not head for home until I've completed my contract and gotten Lindy going well into script rewrites."

"How long will that take?"

"All up, perhaps six months. I can move out anytime you wish."

"No, no. God no. I leave in two days on a national tour visiting customers. And then I'm back for a week and go to Europe for six weeks. I want you here for each time I return. Oh, come to Europe with me."

"No, I have my contract to complete and, as I said, to have my responsibility to Lindy to discharge."

"You have no real responsibility to Lindy as you call her."

"Is that right? I wonder why I have real friends?"

"Oh Christ, shallow Nick is at it again. Sorry, I do admire your ethics and determination, totally."

"If I stay I'm not shifting in with you. But you can visit this room as often as you wish."

"How could I refuse? But why not shift into my suite?"

"Because I don't wish to give Mrs Roberts a disappointment about my adherence to proprietary."

Nick snorted and said Mrs Roberts would go over Sandra's bed with a magnifying glass looking for his hair and dried sperm.

"Nick, that is cynical and disgusting. Mrs Roberts would have no problem with you being in my bed. Christ, don't you know anything about relationships and how people think. She knows men are skunks and roam where they please. On the other hand, she expects me to stay out of your bed if I'm to ever rate as a lady."

Nick groaned and said that scenario was unbelievable and was told he was not expected to believe it because he was male.

"I'm off to sleep and will miss gym this morning."

Sandra yawned and already was almost asleep. It had been an exhausting night, "Call me if you find yourself with an erection at the office: I'll rush straight over."

Nick rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he headed to his own room.

CHAPTER 4

The draft of the induction handbook had been accepted with acclamation after a few minor amendments. 

Nick was in Texas near the end of his nationwide tour when Sandra called Wendy's brother Lane Wright.

"Hi, it's Sandra -- you'll remember..."

"That Noo Zealand accent is a dead giveaway Sandra. How-ya-doing?"

"Great. My co-writer and I have just completed a contract re-jigging an induction handbook for a large corporation. I now wish to push my co-writer Lindy Rice and need those introductions to the chief decision-maker in the script department or whatever you call it. She'd like to be given a few scripts to show her skills at enhancing stuff that needs reworking. I'm spoken to her and explained you can only arrange an introduction or two for her and it was she who suggested she meets you for a drink."

"Careful Sandra, all our calls are taped."

"This is a straight business call. Lindy is a great girl and knows what she must do to wind up her career prospects. She's from Nebraska."

"One of my favorite states. Keen you say?"

"Yes and experienced. She's eager to talk to you to make it happen for her. She'll not disappoint you Lane, you have my assurance on that. Ask Wendy about her -- we've been working with Wendy."

"Nah, your recommendation is okay. Listen, I'm off early on Wednesday. Tell her to meet me at the Happy Ending around 4:00 for 'happy hour' and come in wearing a white shirt and a knotted red scarf around her neck. I go there often and have never seen a babe there dressed like that. What's her name again?"

"Lindy also known as Belinda Rice."

"Written by Lindy Rice. Her name almost gets her the job in my opinion."

"Listen, anything I can do for you, within reason and legal?"

"Yeah, indirectly. Wendy is screwed up by her irrational department boss. I've been told you are screwing the big boss."

"Oh Lane, don't listen to rumors. But leave it with me; a solution is on the way. The big guy gets back Saturday so Wendy should be reporting good news to you within a few days after that."

"Right, do that and meanwhile I'll really call in favors for your promising girl."

Lindy smothered Sandra in kisses when told about the first step in arriving at home base. "Well, I told you I'd do anything, even offer him my ass."

"It's difficult to tell with Lane. Wendy told me his sister is staying with them so perhaps he's getting more than her can handle right now. Try to limit it to an unzipping treat and that might keep him happy, especially when he knows I'm doing something to return Wendy into being a happy sister again."

A week later the manager of PR was promoted upstairs to become research officer for the executive replacing the woman who apparently was demoted to manage the department that she's managed some years earlier. The 'demoted' woman was persuaded to talk to no one about her fat increase in salary.

A few days before Nick and his team left for Europe to visit regular clients he took Sandra away for a really dirty weekend. They rode out on horseback and had sex in the woods. They had sex in the big swimming pool at night when apparently it was used for no other purpose, and sex in their bedroom and in the spa pool outside their bedroom and even found another unmarried couple who joined them in a foursome -- it was supposed to be just for night tennis on Saturday but then went on to late dinner together, drank great wine and continued drinking in the spa pool and then it just seemed to become hazy about who was fucking whom.

Driving back home on Monday morning Sandra said, "I'm unlikely to feel like having sex until your return from Europe."

"That was my intention," Nick said, seizing the moment to improvise.

"Nick, I've been thinking about returning to New Zealand."

"No Sandra, definitely not. The loss to me would be too great."

"I rather feel the same way."

"Marry me."

"Thanks Nick. Short proposal and to the point."

"Well?"

"Ah, Mr Romantic wants an immediate answer."

"Okay, here's what I'll do. I'll postpone making a decision about returning home until you return from Europe. I'll then consider marriage to you if you propose to me properly, have not found someone you like better than me and you'll resign from the corporation, sell all your stock and become a professional investor and perhaps acquire seats on company boards as a professional director."

"WHAT!"

"Whoa, you almost ran us off the road darling."

"Don't worry. I always drive with control."

Sandra smiled and said, "Try to get used to the idea by giving it thought. I'm not going to be married to a guy who works pre-dawn to post-sunset at the office five days a week and takes calls all weekend. And as sure as hell I believe you deserve a better life than that and would really enjoy it once you learned how to act with time on your hands. Now I don't want to hear another word about this until you call me from Europe. How are your nuts? You said earlier they were almost dragging around you knees."

"You treat me contemptibly at times Sandra. I don't know why I put up with it."

"Well, you keep telling me you've never been happier in your adult life since you picked me up on the road three months ago. Either boot me out of your life Nick or modify your life to allow us to have a future together. Figure out why you put up with me and lo!...you'll really have something to think about."

"You're a hard woman Sandra Annabelle Clemow. My mom ought to have warned me about women like you instead of her having a fixation about sluts. Sluts are easy for a guy seeking respectability to deal with. A guy really doesn't know how to deal with a woman like you."

"Just lift your mind above your dick and think darling. It's not rocket science or something you need to pay a fee-gouging consultant to do the thinking for you. Let's stop in this timber town up ahead. A diner is bound to be open and we can have early breakfast. There is something I wish to tell you."

"Do I have the capacity to absorb more from you?"

"Don't behave like a naughty boy darling or was that really you being humorous?"

"I was pulling you tit. Did you like it?"

"I'm glad you are playful again, yes. There's a diner and it's open."

Nick said he couldn't understand how Sandra could predict such things with her almost infallible accuracy.

She replied she was far from being infallible but she did use part of her intelligence in the 'what if?' mode and the correct answer often popped up. In this instance it was using history as a reference point on which to base an informed assumption.

"For centuries rural people have gotten up before dawn to prepare for an early start to work. We are in a rural area where people start work early and because the age of convenience food and eating out is not confined exclusively to urban areas I simply assumed a diner would be open to offer breakfast for men and women going off to the forests or mills. It's really that simple."

"It's not rocket science when you explain it so simply."

"Oh, that's the first time I've heard you use that term. It indicate to me you are in the process of simplifying your thinking mechanisms. Good boy."

"Are you for real?"

"Tut-tut. I shall remind you presidents of corporations are far from being oracles."

Nick drew a warm smile from his lover when he said, "You know Sandra while you are brilliant in bed or even on the shower floor for that matter, I must say you never are boring."

Over breakfast Sandra told Nick she'd finished the book he knew she'd been working on.

"Good for you. Should I have taken an interest in it?"

"Yes, but I accepted you were always to busy to do anything but toss a couple of words of encouragement at me."

"I did ask you what was it about and you said about a guy called Lawrence Gladstone whose been made redundant as a lecturer in English Literature at a university in New York who crosses America in modern Volkswagen Beetle with two surfboards on top driven by a wacky Australian girl from Bondi Beach in Sydney."




Dynamic Hollywood Newcomer



"God, you remember that much. You were listening!"

"I have been told by professional colleagues I have a fine memory."

"Okay, here's a test. What is the heroine's name?" 

"Um, Ginny Bond, a former street kid and washed-up ex-junior national surfing champion with breast cancer heading to LA to try to find an eccentric female surgeon who's had encouraging success with radioactive implant surgery on women with a similar type of invasive cancer that threatens Ginny's life. The trouble is the middle-aged surgeon is nowhere to be found and has a habit of going on solo surfing jaunts for weeks on end."

"Oh darling that's truly amazing."

"Well, reading a précis of your draft on your desk the other day left me with a vivid impression what your book was about."

Sandra stared very hard at Nick. "I shall be very kind to you and now shut my mouth except to say bad boy Nick."

Nick protested, "Where's your humor Sandra? You were completely sucked in and should be celebrating my achievement of crafty deception of the highest order."

"Christ!" shouted Nick as Sandra poured the jug of iced water over him and stomped off to the women's restroom.

They drove for almost three miles before Sandra's body began to shake and she burst out laughing.

"You are a poor loser Sandra and your failure to appreciate my little deception has left me rather disappointed in you."

Sandra laughed even louder and Nick floored the gas pedal for almost a mile before a wailing siren brought him to his senses. 

"Christ, look what you've made me do," he said.

The cop came to the window, looked at Nick sternly and looked over at Sandra and blinked.

"Why hello ma'am, darling of the Hollywood Police Department. It's an honor to meet you. Has this guy being trying to frighten you? I clocked him at 138mph."

"No but he's a naughty boy isn't he officer? Is it a hanging offence?"

"No unfortunately."

"Were there other motorists in sight?"

"No fortunately. Look, I am aware where this is leading to but I'm afraid..."

Sandra smiled sweetly. "I hate to pull rank officer but during drinks with some police officers in Hollywood they declared me to be an honorary captain. I know they had no authority to do that and no documentation was produced and..."

"Just drunken talk ma'am?"

"Police even when off duty do not get drunk officer."

"Of course, I stand corrected."

"May I suggest some unofficial discipline is exercised here in recognition of my contribution to police PR?"

Five minutes later the couple were on there way again. Nick had not been cited but nor was he behind the wheel. He complained, "It is all very well you promising to drive us home in an exemplary fashion but to promise you will hold me to a six-weeks' driving ban is excessive and stupid. I need to drive, making several trips a day."

"Darling, under my terms stated and accepted by that officer you promised you'll not drive anywhere in California within the next six weeks. Well in thirty-six hours you leave for Europe for six weeks where you'll be chauffer driven. So what's the problem?"

"God I'm thick and blame the stress you had me under. Brilliant strategy thought-out in a flash darling. As I said earlier this morning, you never are boring. Devious yes, but never boring." 

* * *

The first time Nick called her was in Bonn, Germany. Sandra couldn't believe she could have missed a person so much and she'd burst into tears when she heard Nick voice. 

"I didn't realize I had missed you so deeply until I heard your voice," she sobbed.

Nick sighed and said, "Sandra, this is the third time in less than three minutes you have told me that. I get the point. May we move on?"

Sandra burst into tears and Nick became alarmed. "Oh God, have you been told you have cancer?"

The tears stopped and Sandra became indignant. "No of course not. Please don't think such a thing. Oh that's really shaken me. What a shit of a thing to say to me."

Nick scratched his crotch. He was in the hotel dining room and the waitress he'd slept with last night was walking across to the window to him carrying coffee, her hips swinging seductively and people in his party at the big table had turned around and were grinning at them. So much for secrecy in the liaison. Now his personnel would know what Nick had been talking about staying another day. Placing a hand over the phone he yelled to their minibus driver Karl, "The tour's back on schedule."

"Um, Sandra," he said as Olga the beauty from Odessa pushed herself against him after placing his coffee on the window seat and then brushing his fringe back possessively, "God, this tour is hard-going with people bumping into you and other people staring at you as if you were a double-headed ax-murderer, "now where was I?"

"You had just made an idiotic statement about cancer."

"Ah yes. I know, bad news from the book publisher."

"My book has been accepted to full assessment."

"It's your mom's health."

"They called yesterday and both are well. Nick, what is wrong? You sound exhausted and stressed. I suggest you find yourself a woman and fuck that stress away."

Feeling a huge weight lifting, Nick said, "Just a minute, I need to instruct our tour-organizer driver who's just entered the room. "Karl -- we are delaying leaving the hotel for four hours." 

Olga, who spoke impeccable English, went running towards Nick pulling off her cap and apron, smiling hugely.

"Now where were we?" Nick asked.

"Attending to your need to relieve stress," Sandra said, sounding a whole lot better.

Nick felt the stress lifting already. "Listen darling, why don't you take your publisher's assessor out to lunch, talking to him about publishing generally and then steer the conversation towards talking about your tits and pussy. It never fails to work." 

"It is a big publishing house and there are a team of eleven assessors, all women," Sandra sniffed coldly.

"Oh. Has it been raining -- I thought our gardens looked due for natural rain?

Sandra sighed as she put down the phone. As expected the hard-ass had not talked about her ultimatum over their possibility of marriage. A girl knew what to expect from a man, didn't she. God she was missing the skunk. This was unbelievable. Sandra loved her parents and brother and sister and Aunt Mae and Aunt Josh but she'd never felt like this. There was a huge gap in her life and her heart felt as if it were black, heavy and neglected. Thank Christ she'd lied about the assessors. The commissioning editor had actually introduced Sandra to the assessor who'd make the recommendation. Sandra made the call.

"Tony it's Sandra Clemow."

"Oh hi Sandra. I'm underway with your manuscript. It's looking good."

"Oh, that does wondrous for this neglected body of mine Tony. Look, I know this will be highly irregular but I wonder if I could take you to a long lunch in a private room in a sweet little hotel I've been told about. I have nothing in mind, as I rarely do when thinking about sex."

Tony didn't reply but Sandra could hear his heavy breathing. She knew he'd found it near impossible to take her eye off her tits when she'd met him the other day.

"I trust tomorrow at 1:00 would suit you? When leaving the office just say to your manager you are feeling a little unwell. Good managers are tolerant of anyone arriving back hugely late from lunch whom they know had complained of feeling unwell."

"W-with a devious mind like that you ought to be a writer," Tony joked. "Call back with the details and I'll be early."

Sandra thought about clipping her vulva, her heart was pumping and everything was splendid as she could see looking out the window it was raining. She even had a cheerful thought about the lonely righteous women of the civilized world who had to manage on the scraps of sex their husbands dished out because they dutifully did what their mothers had told them and refrained from having sex with other men. In contrast she'd always found a place in her adult life for the occasionally lusty man.

Lindy walked in howling and Sandra smiled. Poor girl, fearful she was pregnant. Well Sandra would stand by her.

"Oh darling."

"It's okay, I'm deliriously happy. I've been recruited as a fulltime rewrite editor for one of the companies contracted to the studio. I suspect my manager is gay but that's okay."

"Just make the decision that's right for you darling," Sandra counseled. "Sometimes a girl has to put her body on the line to advance her chosen career. I predict you have a successful career and a great sex life ahead of you."

They hugged and Sandra went off to call a travel agent. With Nick fucking his way around Europe and not interested in negotiating a marriage pact and now Lindy in permanent or at least employment as a script enhancement writer or whatever they were called, she was free to chose a new direction for her life. A visit home was her first priority.

CHAPTER 5

It was raining in New Zealand and rains somewhere in the small country every day, often over the entire country for two or three days in a row. Nick was not with her. Who was Nick? She emitted a dry sob and snarled, "Fuck Nick" knowing someone probably was. By now he'd have her replacement installed and she would have been given the tale about how no other female in Nick's total history of wanton seductions had been given assess to the Princess room let alone even viewed it.

Great story Sandra giggled. Yes even at her age she could easily manage a giggle. She'd incorporated the Princess room deception into her second novel. Sales of her first book were going well, especially at outlets at airports, bus and train stations. Mostly women bought books but the title of this paperback appeal to men apparently. Sandra's draft title 'Cancerous Ginny' had been brilliantly re-titled 'Ginny Gets Load Off Her Chest' and the lurid cover painting had done its job. Negotiations to film the story were continuing, but not going great, as her publisher put it. Sandra was paid a good advance to 'whack out a better and raunchier' sequel. She should keep in mind more than half the leading book reviewers were male and if the sequel took off the film of her first novel would almost certainly go ahead.

So after reuniting with her parents over four days, Sandra shifted into the wreck of a house right on the harbor's edge that was home for Aunt Mae and Aunt Josh (Jocelyn) who were, er, more than just her mom's spinster sisters. Sandra didn't mind and never had; they were delightful characters -- really weird. But the Clemow sisters loved her as the wacky child of the five Clemow families of their family line. They had taught Sandra how to be a real woman and not to accept the crap males handed out to women. 

Sandra's room was in the loft above the boatshed that was surrounded by seawater on three sides at full tide on the Waitemata. A newspaper story arising from an interview on her arrival at the airport had revived the tale of Sandra dealing with two thugs on Rodeo Drive and she looked absolutely gorgeous in the huge photograph alongside the interview published in the 'New Zealand Herald' on a day real news lacked impact. Then Sandra just disappeared -- other media could find her and her parents telling journalists they weren't aware Sandra was back in the country added ice to the cold trail.

But old friends -- real friends -- knew where to find Sandra so she enjoyed a warm social life and occasionally an old male buddy, all married and some remarried now, would be invited to stay the night and some of their combined exploits found their way into Sandra's new novel with the working title, 'Raunchy Ali'. It was the story about a lively Englishwoman who started a hitchhiking journey across America timid about sex but ended up enjoying a life of debauchery in a mansion in Hollywood and being whipped nightly by her loveless benefactor who had many warm and loving pals who took a great likening to Ali.

The manuscript had gone off to the publisher and was accepted instantly. Initial feedback was great and then tapered right off. Sandra assumed is was too hot to publish and was being rewritten in breach of contract as she was required to be consulted and to do any and all rewriting herself. It was early summer in New Zealand so she caught a flight to Christchurch in the South Island and teamed up with an old mate and poet Chris, whose long-suffering wife was used to him disappearing on High Country rambles.

Sandra was away so long that when she returned to Christchurch her vulva hair was an inch and a half long. She was in a restaurant with some other friends unaware she was under surveillance. 

Sandra arrived back at Auckland Airport three days later not expecting to be greeted but there was Nick, smiling and holding out his arms. She screamed and dashed into them, crying and murmuring obscenities that had had people around them scuttling clear. 

Nick said should they go to the restaurant and have a meal while waiting for the TV crew but Sandra, not hearing him correctly, said no -- they should take a hotel room for a few hours. Nick licked his lips and said yes and made a call to someone called Alice and that rather irritated Sandra who waited Nick to her.

"Don't worry darling. She's not joining us. Alice is a TV producer. You'll meet her and her team soon. I'm to take you to a private TV studio to do a news clip and then a full person-to-person interview. Alice wants you there at make-up an hour before filming. Do you call those clothes? Sandra get you hand away from there -- this is a public airport."

"Aren't all airports public darling?"

Nick had to laugh. "God, you're like no other woman."

"Why am I wanted by TV people?"

"Your new book's gone big darling. The jerks are demanding it be banned so sales are soaring."

"Fuck the book darling. I want you. I'll return with you to live in that stuffy mansion while you spend all day and half the night away from me, sending me around the bend in boredom. But I've decided that's better than having cancer."

"What?"

"Relax darling, I don't have cancer. But before we return I want you to meet my two aunts -- to have dinner with them -- and then to sleep in the boatshed loft with me, the sound of tidal water lapping under us."

"You mean an motorized waterbed."

"No Nick. I want to introduce you to a world you weren't aware exists."

"That's fine by me. I have the time."

"But you don't. You are wedded to the corporation and..."

"Sold out baby, completely. I didn't own the mansion so my ex has repossessed it. But I want to remain in Hollywood."

Sandra began to weep. "So do I darling -- I feel I'm really alive when living in Hollywood because it is rotten, corrupt and men are crooks. Just the place for a novelist to acquire backgrounder material."

"So you'll marry me."

"Yes."

"Thanks."

"Don't make a big deal out of it Nick otherwise I'll feel compelled to go all girlie on you."

"Right. Let's get to a hotel room and fuck."

While in New Zealand Nick learned something about local culture. At parties the men liked to get a little loaded on alcohol and then think about nailing a woman, perhaps a couple, while the woman would be coming something of a purchover after being bored almost stupd talking to other women about fashion, babies, the weather and food recipes. Socially, the Kiwis seemed closely tied to parts of America where people were in tune with the basics of life.

* * *

Sandra stared at Alice in disbelief. "Two and a half million sales in thirty-nine days. That's impossible."

"With the right chemistry honey anything is possible. You have great boobs."

Sandra scolded, "Alice behave yourself and act professionally. Are we ready to film? I'm anxious to get back between the legs of my fiancé."

"Oh darling, you disappoint me. Come through with me and we'll get underway. I really must complain again. You look too elegant. I wanted you looking scruffy and lewd to fit the image people now have of you."

"Well, I read Joan Collins. I too wish to puzzle my readers and to have the brainier ones thinking I must have a split personality. I shall tell you on camera I come in dressed up from a soiree, strip off and with an XXX DV blasting away on the big screen write my little heart out."

"Oh God, I feel a national film award coming on."

Nick, looking extra handsome now his beard was growing, sat with Sandra fishing using hand lines from a 'tinnie' (8ft 6in aluminum rowboat) a few yards out off the boatshed. 

"The fish are not biting. Shall we fuck?"

"Nick we are anchored in a main channel and sharks are under us. Do nothing to unduly rock the boat."

"God, I feel safer in America."

"You would. Our sharks tend to only eat you if you fall into their mouths."

Nick looked at Sandra who was smiling but without an underlying smirk so perhaps she was telling the truth.

He decided to change the subject. "Can we move into a hotel? The sexual conduct of your aunts disgusts me and I saw a rat in our loft this morning."

"My French perfume keeps rats away from me. Also they detest the smell of human sex so keep active on the job buddy and you'll be safe as houses. Oh incidentally, my aunts have had a quiet word with me. They want you to keep your screams down during sex as they find it disgusting and scary."

Nick looked for the underlying smirk but couldn't see it. He decided to change the subject.

"That doco screens on network tonight, and it's expected to make you a minor celebrity in America."

"Yeah, the guys will now really look at my tits, and the women, and brainless moralists will want my head."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nah, America is a dangerous place but also had good people. I can hire body guards if necessary."

"But you have me."

"Oh Nick, that's so manly of you. But I suspect if a hood even looks at you with menace you'll fall over in fright."

"Then I'll pay for a bodyguard."

Sandra hugged and kissed him and called Nick her hero. He appeared ready to burst in pride.

A few days later they went through LA airport only recognized by officials reading passports. Sandra was dressed like a female professor of entomology, in an ugly khaki suit, pith helmet and huge dark sunglasses. The paparazzi were immediately on to her, knowing it was a disguise, but they couldn't figure out who she was.

They stayed two nights in the mansion, as guest of Nick's ex who kept saying over and over again both of them were jerks so should marry. Her girlfriend kept repeating everything her lover said so when in the mansion Sandra and Nick spent most of their time in the Princess room or in the garden, which his ex believed was a place only fit to be inhabited by gardeners.

They went to dinner at The Beach on their first night and as the people shouted to Sandra and she waved he said proudly, "You are now really a star."

"Me?" Sandra scoffed. "It's more of the same as before?"

Nick got his mind around that one and said, "Listen to what your are being called."

Sandra listened and clasped her lover's arm harder for support. "Ohmigod." Almost everyone shouting was calling her 'Miss Sandra'."

"It's funny how sometimes you don't hear when you're listening," she whined.

Nick laughed.

They entered the same restaurant and the fat woman barked at Nick, "Get back buster and wait your turn." She then saw Sandra on his arm and said, "It's lovely having you back again Miss Sandra. Please follow me."

Sandra arrived for the book signing, her boobs and ass struggling to burst out of her white bikini. Clutching her huge white hat, she was turned back at the doors by two lines of security men and women. 

"Get back to the end of the line you imposter," snarled beefy security guard stepping forward and raising his arm pugnaciously.

Sandra snarled. "Fuck off, I'm here by invitation." She stood her ground and took a glancing bow to the head that swept off her hat and sunglasses. 




Dynamic Hollywood Newcomer



"Ohmigod, it's 'Miss Sandra'," someone shouted. Nearby people began chanting "Miss Sandra, Miss Sandra."

Sandra standing in the security guy's double arm lock and waved bravely at the paparazzi photographers. Other security guards closed around her and escorted her into the bookstore and the bystanders cheered.

As to be expected, Miss Sandra featured on TV that night and her photograph was prominent in newspapers next morning. That same morning Nick took Sandra to view a house he'd found in a gated community, the only house that had a real attic. The waterfall in the garden could be heard inside that room destined to become the hot-hot writer's creative room. They scraped over who'd buy the home and Nick won, arguing currently he had the most money. The dwelling was still unfinished. Nick tipped the workmen to take early lunch so he and his darling could spend a little time in the unfurnished bedroom undisturbed.

Sandra did nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet her fame spread because her name appeared in gossip columns. Sandra Clemow reportedly saved twelve-week old twins from burning to death in a parked car that caught afire while their irresponsible mother was in a salon having a pedicure. Sandra Clemow reportedly met her match and was knocked to the ground in a bar when she drunkenly picked on a female champion kick-boxer to vent her bad temper. Sandra Clemow reportedly was taken in police custody for her own safety after passing a church (unnamed) and angry female churchgoers stoned her.

Sandra came to learn that the used of the word 'reportedly' meant the columnist was a story short in her (or his) column fictitiously manufactured a paragraph in seconds around the name of someone never far removed from the news. The absurdities gave Sandra and Nick some great laughs.

Nick was slowly acquiring investment clients, too slow for his liking. Sandra bit her lip when she heard him on the phone and yet another contact turn him down. She wanted to help but knew Nick would feel castrated if she offered and even would feel worse -- if anything was worse than castration for a guy like Nick -- if what she did succeeded. Sandra knew the only way was to be sneaky. So she began reading the financial newspapers, noting who the commentators were and noted the names of journalists in newspapers and magazines who quoted people as making investment predictions.

Armed with the names of those commentators, Sandra asked Nick to provide her with the names of a dozen companies likely to become flyers that he knew from his own business associations and perhaps instinct were likely to pop us soon as front-runners in the investment stakes.

"Nick, I don't want companies other guys are tipping, I would your genuine tips and if you produce duds for me you'll sleep in the spare room for six months." 

"Give me two weeks," he said before burying himself away in his office. "The stakes for me are higher than losing a client's prospect of having his or her investment grow. I would regard it as catastrophic not having you alongside me at nights."

"Oh darling, you are so romantic for a man. Remind me to marry you."

Nick laughed and the ease of that laugh filled Sandra with confidence.

When Nick produced twelve 'hot tips' for her Sandra wisely invested chunks of her own money in them, convinced she was doing the right thing. She then added 'Nick's Top Three Picks' to his illustrated profile she'd prepared without his knowledge and sent it to the twelve columnists on her list. Monitoring the columns Sandra found Nick's tips and brief background about him in three publications. She chose one of those columns that appeared weekly and then send the remaining sets of three tips pre-dated to appear in sequence. They did and because Nick's contact details were also published he began to receive calls and after a brief break after his final column was published, passing unnoticed by him, he was surprised to have the columnist request 'more tips' and obliged. At that point Sandra gave up, concluding she'd worked hard for minimal results, although acknowledging to herself some results were better than none at all. 

But something bigger than she could have orchestrated was about to happen.

At another level in 'gossip' in newspapers and weekly women's magazines, Sandra found she was being listed among VIPs attending gatherings hosted privately by movie stars, film producers and even gossip columnists. She knew of course she'd not attended such functions, but then the invitations, inevitably hand delivered by couriers, began flowing in. 

Female stars that Sandra drooled over began inviting her and partner to their homes or restaurant extravaganzas. It became the 'in thing' to have sexy sex novelist Sandra Clemow attend one's party or special event. Those invitations trebled when the most influential newspaper columnist in Los Angeles accurately reported a luncheon conversation she'd had with Sandra's publisher that her third novel now imminent was about a professionally disgraceful relationship between a leading surgeon and his beautiful young patient burdened by having two vaginas since birth.

Nick, bored by the twaddle people talk about at such 'illustrious' functions, would move about until finally finding someone of note who'd politely ask what was his occupation. He'd reply as instructed by Sandra and hand across his card, saying he advised the famous and wealthy about investments, and then he'd talk about the weather. If the person of note stayed talking, he would, as instructed, hail a fresh drink for his prospective client or clients and begin to sharpen their interest. To Nick's astonishment, having told Sandra is would be a waste of time, he found himself signing up celebrities who not only commissioned him to supply investment information but began recommending him to friends.

Within a few weeks Nick realized the momentum was underway and unstoppable. His clients paid for tips in three categories: solid almost certainties, those near the edge although solid be ready to bail out and thirdly, rather risky but capable of winning through. His clients loved it, usually investing in all three categories.

Downing a drink at the local bar, two clients -- blonde and curvaceous and their partners watching the fraternization ready to start swinging if Nick made an indecent move - Nick realized that Sandra had come through for him yet again, really doing little more than pulling levers and by being there. Next day he purchased a present for his fiancée and that evening took her to dinner in their local café that had a jazz pianist and lots of dark corners.

"Take a look at this wee present darling, I think they'll enhance you."

Sandra excitedly opened the small hoping it was something useful, knowing what Nick was like with presents. They were sitting head-to-head in one of the dark corners and the sparkle of the diamonds flashed and lit up their corner of gloom.

"Nick, these are fabulous. You shouldn't have."

"I know but it's tradition for guys in love to do dumb things."

Sandra lost it and wanted to give it to Nick over the table but he guided Sandra off the boil, convincing her no purpose would be served in being banned from their nearest and best local café.

However he consoled her. "Let's set the wedding date."

"Ooooh."

"Well?"

"Eight Saturdays away counting this Saturday."

"Done. Buy your gear and my suit and do whatever else needs doing."

"Oh thank you Nick. I accept that responsibility with pleasure because I was beginning to become bored. Will I be Mrs Sandra Clemow, Mrs Sandra Love or Mrs Sandra Clemow-Love?"

"Well Sandra love, I prefer that last one -- Clemow-Love."

"Right darling, as good as done. Ooooh, this is so exciting. Let's go, you've not yet fucked me over the kitchen table in our new home."

"Grrrrr," said Nick. "You pay the bill and let's go. You pay week nights, remember?"

Sandra kissed him. "Thank you for my birth present."

"Birth present?"

"Yeah, I was born to wear diamonds."

CHAPTER 6

Assistant chief script re-write editor Lindy Rice, by not the mistress of film producer Ricardo Icon, had accepted the offer over lunch to be Sandra's chief bridesmaid and they were discussing which designer to approach when two men in dark suits approached the table.

"Miss Clemow?"

"I'm Miss Clemow."

Lindy yelled, "It's a subpoena, don't accept it."

"I'm becoming bored. This could be fun," Sandra said, taking the document and then told the two guys to fuck off.

The Women's Temperance and Community Standards Fellowship of Lowbanks, Ohio, had cited Sandra on eleven counts of inciting the lowering of community standards and alleging un-American immoral conduct and she was summons to answer the charges in court.

"Oh God, that's you finished," Lindy wailed, reading the document.

"You called me famous more than a month ago," Sandra grinned. "I'm about to become really famous or infamous -- take your pick -- all over America and beyond. I'll probably be prohibited from entering New Zealand again."

"Sandra, please. Wake up. This is America. You are about to be publicly pilloried."

Sandra yawned. "Did you say teal for the bridesmaid's dresses?"

"Oh Sandra!"

Sandra's phone went. It was her publisher. "Got your subpoena?"

"Yes."

"What's your reaction?"

Sandra said brightly, "The self-righteous shall once again fail."

"Good girl. I like it."

"Are you guys standing behind me?"

"We have appointed counsel. Dress sexy with some modesty for a press conference on the steps to the courthouse at 3:00 this afternoon. Retain your composure. The media turnout with by huge because they smell blood -- yours."

"Aren't the media my friends?"

"Ha! See you at 3:10. It's tactically correct to arrive a little late."

Sandra lay back in Nick's arms as they watched early evening TV news. She was the lead item.

"Christ, the media is giving the impression they're a lynch mob."

"Oh, I thought a few of them sounded sympathetic. As I said, my lead counsel Anthony Fairbanks said, this case will rest or fall on my performance."

"Hell, you look cheerful and are answering media questions flippantly. Oh God you can't tell American's that America is home for every wacky group known to man. Women's Temperance is held almost as reverently as Mom and Apple Pie. No wonder your entire legal team walked out during the media conference."

"Yeah and good riddance, the money-gougers. It allowed me to appoint Polly Mason. Pete my publisher has agreed to pay her fees."

Nick said darkly, "Polly represents sportswomen all round the country, women usually facing drug charges."

"Yeah, are you aware of her success rate?"

The house phone went and Sandra rushed back and said, "Gotta go. This station wants me on live at 7:00. Want to come?"

"No, I'm in depression. I'll only stifle your natural tendency to hurl more shit than what's been thrown at you."

Nick had five empty beer bottles on the table in front of him when Sandra appeared on-screen. He rolled his eyes and swigged from the sixth bottle.

Interviewer: Miss Clemow, may I ask why you have chosen to appear in a bikini.

Sandra: Ask your wardrobe people. They attempted to place me in a dress used in something like The Sound of Music. They began dressing me when I realized I was being made to look like a prim woman evangelist. So I walked out straight to make-up. What I'm wearing is my normal underwear.

Interviewer: Cute.

Sandra: Don't you mean sexy?"

Interviewer: I'm not here to dig a hole under you. Are you afraid?"

Sandra: Generally of men, but not all men. But I guess you mean facing the wrath of the self-righteous, bigots and whatever who are attempting to curb my right to free speech. Those women ought to be incarcerated and processed to be dragged into the twenty-first century and then to have their considered and intellectually filtered say about my writing and its affect, if any, on the morality of this great nation.

Interviewer: I could say well said but the studio prefers me to leave comment to the person being interviewed. Could you please answer the question and I'll be more specific: "Are you afraid of what the court may do to you?

Sandra: [Bleep!] no. I expect the judge to toss these charges out, recognizing them for the rubbish they are.

Interviewer: Are you sure you are free to comment on court judgment yet to be delivered in that manner?

Sandra: My legal counsel walked out on me at the press conference this afternoon because they thought I was treating this whole matter with contempt. Well, I have news for them. I expect the judge will toss the charges out and could be tempted to fine those ridiculous women ten million bucks but of course the system in which he or she operates would frown on that because the movement those women purportedly represent is institutionalized and I'm simply a sexy writer who turns up for an interview in her underwear.

Interviewer: Miss Clemow, I have just been advised by our legal consultant through my earpiece to terminate this interview immediately.

Sandra: Oh, stuff-shirts at it again. Sorry I said [Bleep!] earlier. It just slipped out but it will be bleeped I guess. Good night California...this is Sandra Clemow signing off.

Nick laughed as the studio lights went off and the interviewer said from somewhere in the darkness, "Ohmigod, that last bit went to air. Was the word fuck bleeped?"

Sandra appeared in court three weeks later. Five other groups had lodged similar charges against Sandra and her publisher. The judge addressed counsel in private and it was agreed to hear all charges contemporaneously. Some of the submissions made against Sandra and her writing were rebuffed contemptuously by Polly her defense attorney as being "ridiculous, fanciful, archaic and downright disgraceful and an openly cynical attempt by infinitesimally small groups to attempt to use the legal system to try to circumvent the direction of modern literary fiction." She called thirty-one credible expert witnesses who generally agreed Sandra had a wonderful imagination, a dynamic way of expressing herself and she certainly was not leading the pack of pioneering controversial contemporary fiction writers.

After Sandra had appeared as a witness in her own defense and had been vigorously cross-examined, the judge rebuked her mildly for attempting to predict on public television the outcome of court proceedings involving charges against her and her publisher. "Have you anything to say on that specific point?"

"Only that now I better understand the position of the court I apologize for my outspoken indiscretion."

As one newspaper reported, 'The judge lost his severe expression and smiled at her benevolently over his rimless glasses and told Miss Clemow that was all, to return to her seat'. 

The court found Sandra and her publisher had no case to answer on each charge and said they were free to leave. 

Within hours presses were running to begin printing Sandra's new book and elsewhere other presses were producing reprints of her two earlier books as renewed interest in the work of Sandra Clemow, 'One of America's hottest contemporary novelists whose women characters are portrayed as real women, who sweat during sex and who regard good men as being trainable' 

Meanwhile, Sandra's second book 'Raunchy Ali' was in the final planning stages for filming and the gossip columnists were perpetuating the rumor that Sandra new book, to be published in seven languages, had the working title of 'California's Promiscuous Beach Culture' and her wedding, ten days away, would be one of Hollywood's weddings of the year. Of course, Hollywood being Hollywood, scores of weddings each year were dubbed 'wedding of the year'.

That evening interest in the wedding soared when at the end of the early evening TV news on the station that had taken very close interest in Sandra's career, announced the station would broadcast Sandra Clemow's outdoor wedding ceremony live.

Sandra and Nick heard that item with interest.

Nick growled, "Who invited them to the wedding?"

"TV people regard themselves above mere mortals Nick. You know how the system works."

"Okay, I accept that. But why is everyone calling it Sandra Clemow's wedding."

"This is Hollywood Nick. Someone's decided to give me top billing. I'll try to get it changed to include you but don't hold your breath."

"Nah, leave it. It's okay."

"Ohmigod!"

"What? Do you think you have cancer?"

"No, of course not. I've forgot to put your name on the wedding invitations."

"Oh Sandy..." Nick stopped when he saw the stupid grin.

"You crazy Noo Zealander, you're such a big tease."

"Well don't blame me. My fellow Americans get sucked in so easily."

"So you're calling yourself American now?"

Sandra gave him a teasing smile. "Don't blame me darling. You know my publisher has signs up everywhere proclaiming that I'm one of America's hottest contemporary novelists. If I didn't believe what I read what would my readers think of me?"

"A dumb broad."

"Nicholas Joseph Love. Talk to me like that and you'll not make it to our wedding alive. Of course I could have you stuffed. This being Hollywood our guests apart from your parents and relatives wouldn't notice you were being moved about on wheels and the best man was a ventriloquist."

"There you go darling, you've just come up with the story line for a new book."

THE END