Jerry And Diane, Part III

I posted Part I of Jerry and Diane here,  and Part II here. 

This post contains sex and drugs.  Alas, there is still no rock-n-roll.

When they finally reached shore, Diane practically danced onto the dock. After a look from Jerry, she settled down and he talked to the harbormaster, making arrangements to have the boat serviced and fueled.

They caught a cab into town. The exotic sights and sounds of Morocco thrilled Diane. They decided to find a hotel before they split up to take care of their errands. Jerry asked the cab driver for a nice hotel and he took them to the Royal Mansour, close to downtown. It obviously catered to European and American tourists. Not only were there a lot of tourists milling about the lobby, the rooms could have been in Omaha, Nebraska, they were so generic. Fancy, but still generic.

Diane didn’t care, though. After sleeping in the cramped bed on the boat, the king- sized bed looked heavenly, as did the bathroom, with an actual bathtub with all the hot water she cared to waste.

The hotel boasted several upscale clothing boutiques and a hair salon and Jerry suggested Diane buy some clothes and get her hair done while he shopped for a computer. They arranged to meet back in the room late in the afternoon and then go to dinner.

Diane had a great time shopping in the boutique. The salesladies fussed over her figure and helped her select some dresses and slacks and a showstopper of a cocktail dress. She wandered over to the men’s section and picked out a pair of linen slacks, a linen shirt and a pair of loafers for Jerry.

The hair salon was actually a spa and in addition to getting her hair cut and colored, she had a manicure and pedicure. She had her hair dyed dark auburn, just as she’d planned, and with her deep tan and green contacts, she felt like a movie star.

When she got back to the room, Jerry was sitting at the desk, boxes and bubble wrap tossed all over the floor. He was tinkering with a slim, silver laptop, which was emitting beeps. He barely looked up when she came in, laden with the shopping bags.

"Ta da!" she exclaimed, and twirled around to show off her hair. He looked up, said nice, then bent his head back to the laptop.

Diane rolled her eyes. Jerry tended to hand out compliments like a miser parting with his gold. She sat on the edge of the bed and asked what they were doing for dinner. He ignored her, continuing to plug things into the laptop.

"Jerry! Goddamnit, I asked you where we’re going for dinner!"

"Oh. There’s a good steak house I passed when I went to the electronic shop. I stopped in and made a reservation for eight."

"Good. I want to take a long bath, then get all pretty for you. It’s the first time we’ve ever gone out to dinner together, do you realize that? Our first date," Diane said and giggled. "I bought you some prezzies, too."

"You didn’t have to buy me anything, Diane."

"No, but you can’t go out to a nice restaurant wearing that," she said, gesturing to the worn out khakis he had on, the same ones he was wearing when they had first met in the Chicago post office. "Here." She put one of the shopping bags in front of him. "I’m not dressing in one of those baggy things that cover you from head to toe. I want to look gorgeous for our first date. I saw lots of women wearing regular clothes."

She flounced off to the large bathroom, taking more shopping bags with her. The tub was a big Jacuzzi style and she poured in a generous dollop of the bath oil she’d gotten at the spa. Before she got in, she went back to the mini bar and pulled out a split of Piper-Heidesack. She kissed the back of Jerry’s neck and almost skipped into the bathroom.

She soaked in the tub, sipping the champagne and staring at her black-painted toenails ("All the rage," the manicurist had assured her) peeking up out of the suds. When the water started getting chilly, she wrapped herself in the thick hotel bathrobe and did her face. She went crazy with the expensive lotion and perfume she’d bought and finally put on a coat of lip-gloss. She opened the door and posed dramatically.

Jerry didn’t look up from the laptop, which was open to the FBI’s most wanted page. She sighed, and said, "Look, forget that for a while. Okay? One night, let’s not be fugitives, let’s just be a couple out on a date, okay?"

Jerry finally looked at her and let out a low whistle. "Diane, you look beautiful." She twirled around, showing him the low cut back of her black cocktail dress. Her newly auburn hair was piled on top of her head in a soft cascade of curls and she wore silver sandals.

"Bet get in the shower, big boy, I’m awfully hungry."

During Jerry’s twenty minutes in the shower, Diane looked at the FBI site that had her wanted notice displayed. Jerry had left the page up. Her picture was the same one from her mug shot, with black hair streaked with pink and her old face. She did notice that "armed and dangerous" had been added. She snorted at that. She’d been around lots of guns, her dad was a hunter, and the Rabid Wheels liked guns like little boys liked Matchbox Cars, but she’d never fired a gun, much less owned one.

They took a cab to the steakhouse. Diane was surprised when Jerry sat right next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She put her hand on his leg right above his knee and leaned into him and once again, she felt something like love when he nuzzled her neck.

The steakhouse was an ersatz English style chophouse. It was done in gold foil and red velvet with sparkling white table linens. They were escorted to a small table in the bar area for apéritifs. Jerry ordered champagne kirs, a drink Diane had never even heard of and immediately loved.

There was a stunning Moroccan woman playing an oud and a small wizened man accompanying her on a flute in the corner of the bar. The music was soothing and romantic and Diane felt flushed. She’d lusted for Randy. She felt like a junior high school girl with a crush with Jerry.

They were eventually seated at a small table. Jerry didn’t even roll his eyes or shudder and lecture her on the evils of eating flesh when Diane ordered a steak, bloody.

They were escorted back into the bar area after dessert for an after dinner drink. Jerry ordered Cointreau, another new taste for Diane, and they sat at the small table holding hands.

A loud American voice with a pronounced New Jersey accent interrupted their solitude.

"Hey, you Americans, too?" The man was tall and broad, but muscular, not fat. Florid, fiftyish, dark hair and bright brown eyes. Next to him was a tiny Asian woman who looked very young and was dressed in a minuscule dress and very high heels and too much make-up.

"Uh, yes we are," Jerry said.

"Where youse from"? The man asked.

"Wisconsin," said Diane. "Michigan," said Jerry at the same time.

Diane didn’t look at Jerry, but felt the pressure of his loafer on her toes.

"She’s from Wisconsin and I’m from Michigan. We met at Michigan State," Jerry explained.

"Denny Mahoney. Native of Newark, New Jersey. This is Lily." He stuck his hand out to Jerry and Jerry, rising, shook it.

"Mind if we join you? Not often I see fellow Yankees in this part of the world."

Jerry forced a smile and gestured to the table. Lily, so far, had said nothing. Diane smiled at her and said, "Hi, Lily, pleased to meet you." Lily still said nothing, just smiled and carefully sat down, teetering a bit on her heels.

"What brings you to Casablanca, Jerry?"

"Oh, just me and my girl, sailing around, looking for sun," Jerry replied casually. "How about you?"

Mahoney chuckled. "Running away. Tired of the rat race. Tired of American women and their bullshit. No offense intended, young lady," he said to Diane.

"Your hair," Lily said to Diane. "Very pretty."

"Thank you, " Diane said. She had no idea how to start a conversation with Lily. It was obvious Lily’s English was limited and she looked like a fifteen-year-old hooker.

"Jerry, I’m going to the ladies room, okay sweetheart?" she finally said.

"I’ll come with," Lily said enthusiastically.

Diane sighed inwardly and said, sure.

In the opulent ladies room, after Diane had done her business, she sat at a vanity and reapplied her lipstick. Lily leaned her tiny bottom against it and started girl talk.

"Denny, he big man back in America. He work for FBI. He get thrown. He like young girls, they say all stuff about him."

"He worked for the FBI?" Diane said. She felt her eyes grow large and a chill come over her, but looked into her purse, rooting for powder, to cover.

"Oh yeah. He big man there. Agent in charge he tell me. They make him leave, though. Say he messing with girls. Stupid. It’s American thing. I young girl, I like him. He give me everything."

"That’s really nice." Diane’s head was reeling. Jerry was sitting in the bar, chatting up a former FBI agent. Said FBI agent had been thrown out for fooling with underage girls?

When they walked back into the bar area, Diane sat on Jerry’s lap and smooched on his ear. "We need to go, lover. Like, now," she whispered.

She could feel Jerry harden under her and he said, "Sure babe. Denny, we’ll see you and Lily tomorrow at nine for dinner."

Comments

[Nikki]

OMG....That was wonderful! When is part 4 coming out??

[ronni]

The plot thickens!

I love it. Moving must be a Good Thing for you!

[Sarah]

Ok, you need to write faster! I was unloading the dishwasher the other night and thinking about the story and what might happen next and trying to remember where I left that book. THEN I realized it is your story on-line! I can't wait to read more!