don't you leave him?'
Sherry shook her head. 'Guys are like gold dust after you're forty,' she said, drawing up outside Elmer's barn. 'At least Franco's a husband and as a couple you get asked out so you get the chance to meet new guys. The wages of single life is social death, I promise you.'
Flinging his arms round her bare neck, Lysander collapsed on her warm, gold, scented breasts. 'As soon as I've sorted out things here, I'll get a taxi back to your place.'
If she hadn't dropped him at the bottom of the long white rose colonnade leading up to Elmer's barn, he would have bolted straight back into her car.
Reluctant to admit he'd been cuckolded and that his impregnable security system had been violated, Elmerhad tried to hush up last night's escapade. But he'd reckoned without the Press, particularly when one of the maids, seeing such a stunning streaker, had leaked
the story.
As Lysander weaved into the yard, a dozen camera lenses were turned on him and an immigration officer grabbed him, pinning his arms behind his back. 'You're going back to the UK, Lover Boy.'
'I can't,' protested Lysander, 'I'm going to Disneyland tomorrow. I've got to get Donald Duck's autograph. Hallo, Mrs Ex.' He waved at the long yellow face peering out of a nearby box.
'You're not going anywhere. Now walk.' 'I'll run if you like,' said Lysander as a gun jabbed his spine.
'Don't smartass me, Pretty Boy.' 'What about my polo sticks?' 'All your gear's packed.'
'But I haven't said goodbye to Martha or Sherry. Talk about coming down to earth without a bang. Oh, Mr Deporter, whatever shall I do?' sang Lysander tunelessly as he danced a few steps. 'I wanted to go to Disneyland and you sent me back to-'
'Walk,' howled the immigration officer and all Elmer's security guards.
In the end they locked him up for the night to sober up in order to smuggle him on to the first plane the next morning. Just as he was leaving, the twins came racing up with a large envelope. Inside was a silver pen from Tiffany's with a clip in the shape of a polo stick, ten thousand dollars and a scrawled note from Martha:
'Darling Lysander, I'm sorry it's all over the papers, but at least Elmer's been all over me since you left. You sure know how to make husbands jealous. I'll call you when I'm coming to the UK, probably for Ascot. Love, Martha.'
Feeling like a billionaire with hundred-dollar bills spilling out of his pockets, Lysander boarded first class. He tried to concentrate on the air hostess's pep-talk about exits and life-jackets. If the plane crashed he wouldn't have Martha's swipe card to help him.
Then, glancing down at the paper another hostess had handed him with a distinct smirk, only his seat-belt stopped him hitting the plane roof. For there was Martha smiling up at him. The photograph had been taken before she lost weight. She looked gorgeous and there was Elmer looking absolutely repulsive and there was Elmer's pink palace with a large caption: FORT KNOCKS-UP, and there, oh Christ, was Lysander himself, surrounded by immigration officers and giggling and waving like the village idiot.
Being dyslexic it took him some time to wade through the copy. There was a lot of guff about Safus security system being violated and national secrets being in jeopardy. Elmer was quoted as saying: 'It was just a lover's tiff, Martha and I are now reconciled.'
Lysander shook his head in bewilderment. Then, as the plane started taxiing down the runway, jumped out of his skin again, for across the gangway a glamorous blonde was reading another newspaper with a front-page headline: martha's toy boy deported at gunpoint and a huge picture of him looking mercifully less asinine. What the hell were Dolly and his father going to say? Perhaps the story wouldn't reach England. No-one knew Elmer over there. He did hope the bastard wasn't being
Sherry shook her head. 'Guys are like gold dust after you're forty,' she said, drawing up outside Elmer's barn. 'At least Franco's a husband and as a couple you get asked out so you get the chance to meet new guys. The wages of single life is social death, I promise you.'
Flinging his arms round her bare neck, Lysander collapsed on her warm, gold, scented breasts. 'As soon as I've sorted out things here, I'll get a taxi back to your place.'
If she hadn't dropped him at the bottom of the long white rose colonnade leading up to Elmer's barn, he would have bolted straight back into her car.
Reluctant to admit he'd been cuckolded and that his impregnable security system had been violated, Elmerhad tried to hush up last night's escapade. But he'd reckoned without the Press, particularly when one of the maids, seeing such a stunning streaker, had leaked
the story.
As Lysander weaved into the yard, a dozen camera lenses were turned on him and an immigration officer grabbed him, pinning his arms behind his back. 'You're going back to the UK, Lover Boy.'
'I can't,' protested Lysander, 'I'm going to Disneyland tomorrow. I've got to get Donald Duck's autograph. Hallo, Mrs Ex.' He waved at the long yellow face peering out of a nearby box.
'You're not going anywhere. Now walk.' 'I'll run if you like,' said Lysander as a gun jabbed his spine.
'Don't smartass me, Pretty Boy.' 'What about my polo sticks?' 'All your gear's packed.'
'But I haven't said goodbye to Martha or Sherry. Talk about coming down to earth without a bang. Oh, Mr Deporter, whatever shall I do?' sang Lysander tunelessly as he danced a few steps. 'I wanted to go to Disneyland and you sent me back to-'
'Walk,' howled the immigration officer and all Elmer's security guards.
In the end they locked him up for the night to sober up in order to smuggle him on to the first plane the next morning. Just as he was leaving, the twins came racing up with a large envelope. Inside was a silver pen from Tiffany's with a clip in the shape of a polo stick, ten thousand dollars and a scrawled note from Martha:
'Darling Lysander, I'm sorry it's all over the papers, but at least Elmer's been all over me since you left. You sure know how to make husbands jealous. I'll call you when I'm coming to the UK, probably for Ascot. Love, Martha.'
Feeling like a billionaire with hundred-dollar bills spilling out of his pockets, Lysander boarded first class. He tried to concentrate on the air hostess's pep-talk about exits and life-jackets. If the plane crashed he wouldn't have Martha's swipe card to help him.
Then, glancing down at the paper another hostess had handed him with a distinct smirk, only his seat-belt stopped him hitting the plane roof. For there was Martha smiling up at him. The photograph had been taken before she lost weight. She looked gorgeous and there was Elmer looking absolutely repulsive and there was Elmer's pink palace with a large caption: FORT KNOCKS-UP, and there, oh Christ, was Lysander himself, surrounded by immigration officers and giggling and waving like the village idiot.
Being dyslexic it took him some time to wade through the copy. There was a lot of guff about Safus security system being violated and national secrets being in jeopardy. Elmer was quoted as saying: 'It was just a lover's tiff, Martha and I are now reconciled.'
Lysander shook his head in bewilderment. Then, as the plane started taxiing down the runway, jumped out of his skin again, for across the gangway a glamorous blonde was reading another newspaper with a front-page headline: martha's toy boy deported at gunpoint and a huge picture of him looking mercifully less asinine. What the hell were Dolly and his father going to say? Perhaps the story wouldn't reach England. No-one knew Elmer over there. He did hope the bastard wasn't being
Similar Books
