possibility of being wanted by the Police but then thought better of it.
She wrinkled her nose.
"I think I need a shower ... and some clean clothes."
Unsurprisingly the first request was easy.
Surprisingly so was the second.
...
Let me tell you briefly about Jonathan's Mother. Despite her increasing years, the matriarch had long ago decided that her body was that of a twenty five year old. This immediately raised questions in the minds of those around her such as a twenty five year old what? Or times how much?
This belief led to a creation of a wardrobe somewhat out of character with someone who had collected almost as many years as some people's frequent flyer points! It was always certain to generate comment in the local shopping and entertainment centres too. One can only wonder what the various sales assistants thought. Maybe she was buying for her daughter. Maybe it was for some weird theme party. Maybe I'm attributing the capacity to think on boutique sales assistants. Well, this is fiction after all. More likely they didn't give a toss as long as money was handed over.
"How do I look?"
From the boxes of clothing that had been stored in the garage post Mother's demise and classified under things to sort out one day, she had selected a white summer shirt and short skirt not much longer than the previous one. This was accompanied with a bright blue headband and matching shoes. It all went together quite well in a kinda retro 60's style and, even though she was wearing his Mother's clothing, she managed not to look like ageing mutton well past its due date which tended to be the maternal trademark.
While she was now wearing a shirt, it was clear she was not wearing a bra! This caused a certain amount of disturbance for Jonathan, which he was struggling to contain.
"Fine ... fine. Quite ... fetching."
She smiled quite pleased with the effect then frowned as if deep in thought.
"White no sugar."
"Sorry?" asked Jonathan wondering if this was some strange fashion term to describe what she was wearing. Well, it could be for all he knew. After all his knowledge of fashion stretched to ... well not very far.
"I think I drink my tea white no sugar," she replied with a pleasant smile, "if not perhaps I could start with that and see if I like it or not."
Eager to please Jonathan leaped into action and in as much time as it took to boil the water and let the brew … brew, a cup of steaming hot tea was placed in front of his guest who returned to the kitchen after a brief expedition in the garden of which Jonathan was quite proud of.
"Thank you."
She flopped down on the closest kitchen chair. This caused her breasts to momentarily become highly animated before bouncing back into their normal position. Jonathan gulped silently. If this continued he would need to excuse himself.
"May I?" she asked reaching for the fruit bowl.
"Yes, of course please help yourself. Sorry, you must be starving. I can cook you something if you want."
She reached for a banana, oh it had to be a banana didn't it!
"This will do just fine."
Slowly she unpeeled the skin and slid the fruit into her mouth.
Jonathan excused himself.
...
'Right', Jonathan thought summarising his situation once his mind had cleared.
'A strange but beautiful girl falls through the ceiling of my kitchen giving herself a dose of amnesia in the process. This girl is wanted by the police, supposedly as a missing person but maybe that is just a cover for a possible more serious crime. She is currently sitting in my kitchen wearing my mother's clothes and was eating a banana which is why I am thinking all of this in the toilet.'
'You should notify the police,' the law-abiding part of his brain informed him. 'But, she has amnesia so even if she was guilty of a crime, she doesn't know that she has committed one. So in a sense she is innocent. In that case she still needs help after all she is innocent until proven guilty. Besides her disappearance hadn't made it to any of the news sources so it can't have been a major crime. Maybe she was just a missing person then.'
This rambling internal rhetoric was masking the reality that there was a beautiful girl in his house and he wanted her to stay there for as long as possible. That meant ruling out going to the police and making enquiries in case they got suspicious and started snooping around and then coming to the conclusion that he had lied to them or, even worse, had kidnapped her!
"You were gone quite a while."
"Things to do," he said in a carefree manner swinging his arms around supposedly in a carefree manner but really looking like a weedy version of Peter Garrett during his Midnight Oil days.
She withdrew and looked distant.
"Anything wrong?"
She looked up at him with pleading eyes, gorgeous deep blue fall in to ... stop it!
"I don't know who I am. I don't know where I live. I don't have any money. What am I going to do?"
It looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment.
'Think quick,' his brain commanded.
"Umm"
'Oh yes that's very good,' brain retorted sarcastically.
"Well ... umm ... I'm sure your memory will come soon ... in the meantime you could stay here? Until you feel better?"
He wasn't sure why the last part of that sentence had end in a feeble question a bit like that famous line from Dickens, ‘Please sir, may I have some more?’ but even more feeble and begging.
"And you don't need to worry about money or anything else. Just relax and get better."
"You don't mind? You would do that for me even though you don't know me?"
"Of course ... no problemo." Jonathan replied trying to look even more casual but managing to make dancing Garrett look like he was having a seizure ... more so.
"That's so sweet. I'm sure I'll be fine in a day or two ... a week at the most. Thank you." She stood up, walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek close enough for a breast to brush against his arm.
Everyone smiled what an excellent outcome!
Jonathan excused himself very soon after.
Monday
The Monday routine consists of the following:
Wake up - tick,
Make breakfast consisting of a cup of tea and two poached eggs on toast (it being a Monday) - tick,
Whilst listening to the morning current affairs on ABC- tick,
Shower - tick,
Brush teeth - tick,
Catch the 8:07 to work (Of course he could drive but it’s just no fun having to share the road with the knuckle draggers that constitute the average Canberra driver),
Work,
Take lunch in the library whilst reading the latest copy of The Economist or similar authoritative magazine,
Work,
Catch the 5:15 home,
Cook dinner and finally,
Watch some evening TV whilst sipping on a nice glass of red.
Of course today was somewhat different in the sense that there was someone else in the house. However, that was no reason not to maintain the routine. Life without structure is chaos and he felt he had enough chaos for the time being. As she was still asleep and as he would be away most of the day, he decided that he should leave her a note.
‘Dear...' At this point he ran into a problem. Dear who or what? Dear houseguest? That sounded a bit formal. Dear lovely firm breasted girl? That sounded rather too familiar. Dear person who wrecked my ceiling and caused me to masturbate furiously several times? (Technically known as an onesome!) Hmmm, probably too much information there. Dear - insert name once you remember it? No let’s not try to be funny. (Which is incidentally what the first reviewer of this story told me - I ignored them)
Eventually he decided on something quite casual.
'Hi there. Hope you had a good rest.' Well, after the amount of wine she had last night rest was assured. 'I have to go to work but I have left the spare key on the kitchen table for you if you wish to go out a
lthough that may not be a good idea in case you get lost what with your memory not quite there. There is plenty of food and TV, DVDs and books if you want to relax.
See you sometime before 6.
J.'
There that should do it. With that he quietly left the house in plenty of time to catch the 8:07 to Work - tick and commence the working day.
You may be interested in knowing what Jonathan does for a living. Or you may not. Doesn't matter because either way you are going to find out. It will come as no surprise to be informed that Jonathan Theodore is a Public Servant. A Program/Project Manager no less. Ever wanted to know what a Program/Project Manager does? I do and I am one! From what I can tell it involves spending lots of money on activities that may, or may not, achieve some or any results.
Over the years the Australian Public Service had copped several public beatings for projects that had not gone according to plan. Mind you, with project management nothing ever goes according to plan anyway. Over time this led to sayings such as "Project Management = planned failure." & "Public Servants are dickheads." The latter is not so much a saying as a general comment made by my strange friend Davo who lives in the bush and is so inbred that he probably fathered himself!
Anyway, new procedures were put in place to ensure that nothing like this ever happened again. They went something like this. A project would be devised. After much delay caused by people running around, making lots of noise and looking very busy without actually doing anything, someone finally realises that something needs to be produced. Then a project plan is created, a budget devised, resources allocated and the project is ready for implementation. Then big announcement and fanfare and everyone gears up for the
The girl who dropped in Page 2
