Eileen Over - Eager To Bed Bunny

It was the last straw. Without thinking, without considering the people in the cafй or his awkward position, Hugh drew back his fist and threw it across the table.

It was a good punch, catching Baldwin right on the chin and sending the fat man sprawling.

"Ow!" Baldwin sat on his backside, legs stuck out at crazy angles, yelling his head off. The waiter and several customers came running, but no one, not even his wife, made a move to assist him.

"Call the police, call the police!" He began to scream and strike the ground with his clenched fists.

Hugh looked down at him and walked out of the cafй. He went straight to the small villa, packed his suitcase and marched into another cafй, where he made a telephone call.

He asked for the party who had placed the ad in the morning's Tribune. A girl got on the wire and told Hugh to come up to an apartment building called the Beaux Arts, situated just off the beach, at his convenience.

He knew the building, a squat, two-storied place not far from one of the luxurious hotels. Saying that he was free to be interviewed at any time he asked if he could come over now. The girl agreed.

His bag was left at the cafй and, squaring his shoulders, Hugh went off for what was to be his first interview in years. He tried to pretend he was one of the world's unemployed, tried to put himself in the position of a man seeking work. How should he act? Meek, servile or self-assured?

He wasn't so filled with confidence; the encounter with the Baldwin's had proved that he could be easily intimidated. But still he had to make a try, and this was the first.

The entire fiat was dimly lighted, the shutters bolted tightly against the invading sun. The odor of freshly cut flowers was everywhere, mingling with the strong scent of a woman's perfume. Hugh stood in the drawing room, hands in his pockets, surveying the fin-de-siиcle furnishings.

To one side stood the maid, a tall, reddish-haired girl dressed in a black outfit; she had spoken to him on the telephone. While pretty, in fact almost beautiful, her face was a mask, not a muscle moving. Near her, before an enormous desk, the top of which was filled with bronze and china statuettes, sat a man who introduced himself as Maurier. He was tall, slender, cruel-featured, with a haircut that was out of fashion, much too short. As he spoke his long thin fingers played with one of the glass figurines. Somehow Hugh found it easy to picture this man in the uniform of an army officer.

"According to this rйsumй of your talents I would think that being a chauffeur would be far beneath you." Maurier tapped the application form Hugh had filled out.

Hugh sighed and looked down at the polished parquet floor. "I've worked in high positions and low positions."

"Never as a chauffeur."

"I know cars."

"As a racing driver, perhaps. There is a large difference."

"Mr. Maurier, I applied for this job because I need it."

Maurier pursed his thin lips. "I am certain I have seen you before. Seems there was a playboy I ran across.., resembled you."

This was just a waste of time and he did not have to put up with this man's nonsense. "Mr. Maurier, do you need a chauffeur?"

"Do not be sensitive. I must ask questions. I just cannot take people into my employ like that." He snapped his fingers. "All right, do you possess an international driver's permit?"

Hugh brought out his wallet, removed his various licenses and started forward. The maid anticipated his movements and, intercepting him, reached for the papers. She handed them to her employer who glanced briefly, almost disinterestedly at them.

"Right. You will drive a Mercedes Benz. A new one, I might add, so I would not like to see any scratches or dents on it. It is to be dusted daily, washed every three days, and polished every two weeks."

The man not only wanted a chauffeur but a carwash attendant as well, but he did not say one word about salary.

Maurier read his mind. "I shall pay you one thousand two hundred francs a month and. of course, your food and lodgings are free."

Hugh nodded. A job was a job. What else could he say?

Maurier spoke to the maid. "Show him the car and take him to the tailor to be fitted for the uniform."

The girl nodded and told Hugh to follow her. They went out into the garden and down a path to the garage. At no time did she attempt any conversation. Hugh, occasionally stealing a glance at her, saw that the redhead possessed a magnificent body.

She led him to the garage, weaving her way through automobiles of various sizes and makes to stop before a huge Mercedes Benz 2805E. It was black with white leather and apparently new.

"How old is this car?"

"Less than one month so you better be careful with it." She opened a door and pointed at the ignition key resting in the switch. "Will you test it?"

"No, lam familiar with these models. It will be no problem at all."

Now a tall man, young, heavily built, with thick curling hair and a face streaked with oil stepped out of the inner depths of the garage. He nodded at the maid and spoke to Hugh.

"New chauffeur, eh?"

"Yes."

The man snickered. "Poor fellow."

"Why?"

"The things that are going to happen to you, that's why."

The maid yelled "Keep your dirty mouth closed."

The garage mechanic shouted at her in a language which Hugh recognized as Italian.

"Hey, what is this all about?"

"She knows, this girl" The mechanic was angry as he spoke. "Tell that bastard, your new boss, to haul this Mercedes out of here by tonight or we'll push it out onto the street. You know, you might be a good sort, so I am going to give you some advice."

"Shut up, you pig." The maid's eyes were narrowed, her fists tightly clenched and her rounded bosom heaving. 'This pig attempted to force himself on me and when I refused he spread filthy rumors."

"Rumors!" The mechanic pointed to the rear of the garage. "Twice I had you back there. Once in the back seat of an old car and once on the floor. Your bottom got all dirty."

"Liar!" Her reply was somewhat half-hearted and Hugh began to believe the mechanic.

"She was so fed up with that Maurier," the mechanic explained, "that she was glad of the opportunity to have a real man, even though I am generally evil-smelling and dirty."

The girl fled from the garage.

Hugh looked after her and shrugged his shoulders. "Not my business what you two did. She's a beauty and going after her for a screw is to be expected."

"Do you need a job that badly or are you one of them?"

"One of what?"

"One of those immoral types like Maurier."

"Look, friend, whatever difficulties you're having with my new boss is not my affair." He started to walk out of the garage.

The man yelled after him: "Get this car out by nightfall if you don't want it wrecked."

In the street the maid was waiting. She gave him the name of a tailoring establishment adding, 'They ouffit all chauffeurs so there should be a uniform in your size."

"Does the color make any difference? I don't want to wear something so ridiculous as white."

"Just make certain it's lightweight, for your own comfort." She paused, "Listen, that pig back there, do you believe him?"

"I told him it's none of my business."

"So you do believe him!"

"Ahh, hell, look, I just want to chauffeur a damned car."

Without a word the maid marched off. Hugh stood there watching her, his eves centering on her twisting buttocks, two lovely balls grinding beneath the thin fabric of her skirt. It did not make sense to him, a delicious, well-built girl like that throwing herself at the foul-mouthed mechanic. And all that talk about Maurier. It just did not make any sense.

He took a seat in a cafй directly across the way from Maurier's apartment building, reflecting on the worth of the job. Trouble was in the offing, and he wanted no part of it. But the alternative was to return to London and the lazy life. No other positions were available.