Logan and Lou

Three days after the marriage of his frequent date Celeste Young to his best friend Mike Hastings, Logan Mayfair quit his job as civic affairs reporter for the Claytown Sentinel and took the 12:15 out of town.

Logan had never liked trains and he liked this one even less; the so-called 12:15 departure had been 12.53 and he was in no mood to be kept waiting for an apology of a railway company mouth-piece.

"Why was this fucking train late?" he growled.

The conductor said all trains were late sometimes and asked Logan not to swear.

"What's wrong with fucking swearing?"

"Because it's offensive to some passengers and you are objectionable because you are drunk."

"I haven't touched a drop in hours."

"Yeah, after drinking for a couple of days no doubt."

"Oh fuck, off, get me off this flea-bitten train."

That appeal set that process in motion.

Logan had not been aware he was disturbing other passengers and he waved cheerfully to them as they clapped as the conductor and a much larger guy, in a uniform with 'Security' written across the chest. escorted him from the coach.

He was held in a confined area and had his wish of being put off the train at the next stop - just over 100 miles of his 355-mile journey back to his hometown completed.

Miraculously his suitcase was located and dumped off the train beside him. He never saw his laptop again.

'Chatswood?'

Logan had never visited the city but had heard of it of course. Who hadn't heard of the Chatswood murders of 2002?

Outside the railways station, he attempted to hitch a ride but at least fifty vehicles went by without stopping.

Logan dropped his thumb and sat on his suitcase, head bowed, and thought of the very likeable Celeste being repeatedly shafted on her honeymoon. After those vivid thoughts, her husband Mike Hastings was no longer considered to be Logan's best friend.

He heard someone talking and then a yell, "I said if you want a lift you better climb aboard."

They took off.

The weathered driver of the battered pick-up in check shirt, jeans and ancient boots introduced himself as Josh and with introductions complete, they talked about the weather, Josh talked about grain prices and Logan talked about flea-bitten trains.

"Well, where to?" Josh asked?" a few bumpy minutes along the poorly maintained street.

"A cheap motel on the edge of town."

Josh braked to a stop. "Here we are."

"Here we are. where?" Logan asked, confused.

Josh said on the edge of town outside a cheap motel and drove off shaking his head and grinning.

"My suitcase," Logan yelled and turned to run after the departing pick-up and fell over his suitcase.

"Christ, I need to sleep for a couple of day and sober up."

Inside the dingy reception area, he rang the bell.

"Yes."

Well, thought Logan, it was a flea-bitten hotel, very Spartan but at least reception was efficient. None of this 'Welcome sir, aren't we having rotten weather and I hope you had a satisfactory journey reaching us."

He asked, "Your best unit please."

"Can't do, it's taken," said the tired-faced woman in an old-fashion blouse and graying hair in a bun and no make-up, not even lipstick.

"May I have the next-best available unit please."

"Yes, sign the register while I process your credit card."

The efficiency impressed Logan. The big hotel chains better watch out.

"Betty-Louise!" the woman called into the microphone of the sound system that until that bellow had been playing soft country music.

"My niece will take you to your unit; please don't molest her."

Yeah right, she'll be safe if she has your genes, Logan thought, smiling and saying, "Thank you ma'am."

She actually smiled and showed she still had most of her bottom teeth.

Logan thought the State's beauty queen was making a courtesy visit when a radiant lovely came along the passage.

He stepped back.

She looked at him, frowned, picked up his suitcase and said, "Follow me sir."

Shocked that this could be Betty-Louise, Logan warned himself three times not to molest her and following the beautifully swaying ass. The door to the unit was open so she walked straight in and placed his suitcase on the rack and turned and faced him.

"You look fucked-up; been in a road accident?"

"No, I came by flea-bitten train," he said vaguely.

Her eyes widened. "I know, you've been jilted, you hit the bottle and now you're running away."

Logan's eyes widened more than hers did but he was too fatigued to admire her intelligent deduction or to think about molesting her. He'd seen the bed so was already ninety percent asleep.

"You are so right," he said, crashing to the floor.

It was hours later and dark, no noise from passing traffic. Logan figured he had either become blind and deaf or else it was in the small hours. He found the light switch: his watch advised 3:17. There was an insulated flask beside his bed with a note containing four words: 'Chicken broth. Drink. Betty-Louise'.

Well yes, he could drink Betty-Louise and nibble her anytime soon Err, could her hyphenated name be considered one word?

That question was put aside. He unscrewed the cap of the flask and poured soup into the mug. He sipped and boggled, recalling it was just like grandma use to make it, not at all like the supermarket tinned crap.

He was pouring the second mug when he realized he was nude and remembered opening his eyes to see the floor coming to meet him.

Well, well. Betty-Louise had seen right to his dick whereas the only skin he had seen of her was her face and from fingers to mid-arm. Oh God, he probably hadn't showered for three days. He really couldn't remember.

After finishing the soup, Logan went and showered.

He couldn't remember the name of the motel; had he seen the name? He recalled the city was Chatswood. Perhaps he was at Chatswood's Premium Motel.

Logan slept again until noon when he found more broth. At 6:00 that evening he was awakened by Betty-Louise. She bent over him, her fragrance waffling over him as she pulled down each lid to look inspect his eyes.

"You'll live, the bottoms are whitening up again. You looked shocking when you arrived."

"Self-inflicted poisoning."

"Afraid so, excessive intake of alcohol has that effect," she said with the authority of a daughter whose father was a drunk. "You smell more like a normal man; have you showered?"

"Yes, twice. Sorry you had to endure me at my worst."

"What I saw made up for that," she said straight faced and only giggled when Logan's blush swept down to his chest.

"Go to the bathroom now while I change your bed and then I'm taking you to my unit for dinner; it's almost ready."

"Why are you being so kind?"

"It's a lonely life here and we haven't had a handsome man as a guest in my time at this dump."

Logan said, "Oh manners. I'm Logan Mayfair."

"Hi Logan, my surname is Lemont."

"Miss Lemont, sounds cute," he said. "Look away please."

Betty-Louise giggled as she turned away and watched in the wall mirror his bare-ass-flight to bathroom.

Showered and shaved Logan returned to the room to find his bed was made with fresh linen, a change of clothes was on the bed and his suitcase was unpacked and everything placed in the dresser. Oh, he was expected to stay a few days, he grinned. That was one way to build occupancy rate.

He grinned. A note pinned around his belt stated 'Unit 18, second row back, nearest the kitchen. xxx'

Wow, he was handsome enough to rate paper kisses! He almost ran to Unit 18.

Miss Betty-Louise Whoever greeted him in through the open door with a smile. She was now undressed from motel service uniform in very high cut-offs and just a light knitted top that revealed show-through wobble when she'd waved.

Logan had thought Celeste had the best legs imaginable and had been over every inch of them many times. But hello, Betty-Louise with legs straight off a Top Babes Magazine artist's drawing tablet and they went on forever, well, an unbelievably long way which was as good as saying forever.

He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and beamed, "Hi."

"God you look a million times better. No wonder old folk sounding off medical cures never say too much sleep is bad for you. You've been asleep two days."

"You're kidding. I had the broth this morning and you woke me again at 6:00."

"That was today. I left broth yesterday and you didn't wake up. I wanted to fetch a doctor but Auntie Melanie said you were a victim of the bottle and looked fit enough to make a full recovery unaided. Her main concern was you'd wake up and grope me."

"Oh, sorry I failed to perform as expected. I must have disappointed you."

"You're funny."

She said sit down and pour the wine. He looked at the bottle and gulped. She said a little bit of wine would probably accelerate his recovery if his body was used to running on a bit of residue alcohol.

"You sound very learned."

"Auntie Melanie told me that actually; she's waiting to hear my screams when you attack me. She has her shotgun loaded and Uncle Bert has sharpened the axe."

"Well, that reduces the chances of me molesting you sufficiently to generate a scream."

"Don't go disappointing me now," she said, fluttering her extended eyelashes.

"You're funny," he said, wanting to add, 'and so beautiful' but a beautiful woman doesn't want to be told that again, again and over again no more than a man wants to be asked, 'And how's your gout?'

Logan had a pain in his toe. He felt down and found to his relief it wasn't his big toe, an acknowledged gout signal, but rather the next toe in.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-one," he replied.

"Good, not too old then. If you stay you can be my boyfriend. The guys around here want to take me out for one purpose whereas you appear to be more mature in your mind and have a mind broader than the single-track minds of yokels around here."

"Oh yeah, sure," Logan said, hoping he sounded sincere and intellectual. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. I came home with my degree in communications last year but found my parent's in disarray and our family business collapsing around them as the accountant had run off with my sister and cleaned out the bank accounts plus newly arrived loan money for replacement equipment."

He said, "The cur and his bitch are apparently somewhere in South American, probably in Argentina."

She ignored his contribution and said, "My parents were in a dreadful state after putting off thirty personnel with no money for redundancy but grandma came through with sufficient money to prop up their core business."

Logan expressed his sympathy as he leant towards her to top up her wine. She turned and held up her lips so he kissed her. With a little cry she put done the glass and grabbed him, kissing him passionately.

"Steady on," he whispered when coming up for breath, "or I may have to call Auntie Melanie."

She pulled back and blushed, saying she was so sorry.

"After arriving back with my master's degree after five years with bright, brainy and generally fun-loving people to this dump with few people left around my age not married, the others have gone to the big cities, I have been very lonely and emotionally starved."

"You've met Auntie Melanie, well she's not very talkative and Uncle Ben's main form of communication is a grunt."

"Then why did you end up here?"

"Mom wanted me to work somewhere safe."

"A motel on the edge of town is safe?"

"None of those skulking bucks with their dicks in their hand at night come in here now. Two of them who tried in the first week I began work here received buckshot in their backsides. The victim's parents took Auntie Melanie to Court but she told it to the Judge straight and presented samples of the buckshot and called a gunsmith. He testified that at the range she fired at the back of a person running away they faced no real harm unless they had an eye in the back of his head."

"Auntie Melanie who defended herself, called me as a material witness. As I stood up the lady Judge took one look at me and dismissed the case on the grounds of justifiable defense of a young relative under the age of twenty-five."

"I was still twenty-four at the time of the incidents. Auntie Melanie was interviewed on local television and said if the buckshot was that weak, she'd use a Winchester rifle next time if necessary but really preferred her husband's double-headed axe."

"Wow, what a story. What kind of business is your parents' operation?"

"Commercial printing and are still the largest operator in the city in that business. But they closed their greeting cards business and book publishing that they were into in a small way and of course the city's newspaper, The Morning Informer. I had returned home to take over as news editor."

"What, you majored in journalism?"

"Yes, a double degree as I also gained a bachelor in business administration."

During dinner, Logan kept on about the newspaper.

He asked, apart from closing down, what had been sold. The reply was nothing really, the leased equipment such as computers and personal printers and cell phones had gone back to the suppliers. Her mom's mother had not required interest to be paid on her loan so all the newspaper debts had been paid as the commercial printing was very profitable.

"So, your parents didn't go into bankruptcy?"

"No."

"Do they still own the registered title of the newspaper?"

"Oh God yes, the newspaper was established by my paternal great-grandfather. Why this interest?"

"I'm learning about you and your family as apparently you'd like me to stick around. You've unpacked my suitcase and you wondered if I might be your boyfriend, I mean the guy for you just to take to the movies or to a bar to avoid you being pestered."

"Yes, I'd like that. But I'm still not convinced with that answer about why the interest in printing and publishing?"

"That's nit-picking. If you don't watch it, I'll put my hand up your skirt to really give you something to think about."

"Oh yeah, and I'd have a kitchen knife through your throat before you'd gotten my pants off."

Logan grinned. "Where were we?"

"It's time for you to go."

Logan cast an eye as the fabulous looking desserts dished up on the bench, half bowed and thanked Betty-Louise for her hospitality and walked to the door. He turned and apologized again.

She grinned. "Come back you clown, I was only joking. Sometime soon I'll be urging you to pull off my pants."

When relaxing over coffee Logan said, "If you don't mind me saying so but the edge of the city that I passed through seems to have yesterday's look to it as does this motel."

"Yes, and folk around here say that's how they like it."

"And you?"

"I wish to see a progressive attitude develop."

"And you with a name like Betty-Louise?"

"I know but it's registered as my name. Mom and dad liked it at the time they named me."

"Well, don't change it officially, just start calling yourself..."

"Heavens no, not Betty!"

"...Lou."

"Lou? It's a boys name."

"So are lots of girl's names. It's actually short for Louise I think but it's really modern. Logan and Lou sound really cool together."

"Logan and Lou. Omigod, why not?"

"Goodnight Lou, kiss me deeply at the door and then call out loudly goodnight Logan or was that just bullshit about the shotgun?"

"Believe what you want to believe. Come on, to the door quickly; I want that kiss."

Logan couldn't believe how great it was to have tits pressed up against him hard like that and their pubic bones almost touching.

"Goodnight Logan," Lou called loudly.

"Goodnight Lou," he called.

A screen door squealed and an outside light was turned on. Logan looked back to the administration building and called "Goodnight Auntie Melanie."

She was in sight but didn't respond and she didn't point the shotgun in her hands at him either. He whistled his way back to his unit with an idea circling his head: It was time the Morning Informer was back in print.

* * *

Soft lips against his woke him at 6:30.

"I had to use my pass-key sir. You forgot to leave out your breakfast order."

"I'm ordering another long kiss right now."

She made no response and he sighed and said, "Two brown toast, one sausage, beans if available and black coffee; no eggs thank you ma'am."

She kept on leaning over him. "You can have a wee play with my breasts if you fancy that."

"What and walk around with an unsatisfied erection all day? No thanks Lou."

She giggled and then turned serious. "Ah, about Lou..."

"Don't go weak-kneed on me Lou. You were brave about that name last night."

"Auntie Melanie is objecting and my parents will also."

"So what? Within ten days they'll be calling you Lou as if they've always called you that name.

"You promise me that will happen?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Right then, I'm now to be known as Lou."

"Good girl. What are your break times today?"

"Ten to noon and one to three."

"Which break would suit you to take me on a tour of the printing works and to meet your parents?"

"Why?"

"Is it polite to answer a question with a question?"

"Meet me in our guest lounge at 10:00. Why meet them and tour?"

"Let's not be nosey, huh?"

"You swine; I'll be at the end of my tether all morning."

"Where's my breakfast?"

"You refuse to play with my tits so you're not getting breakfast."

"That's unfair."

"Ha!"

Fifteen minutes later Logan's tummy rumblings were about to be put at rest. There was a knock at the door.

"Hello Auntie Melanie," he greeted.

She came in and removed the warmer lids. "She said you had a ton of cheek. Will you promise me you'll not molest her unless she invites you to?"

"Yes, I promise," Logan said, looking at her straight in the eye.

"Good, anyways I don't think you'll have to wait long; she's gone potty over you. She's a lovely young lady and is desperate for younger company with people she can trust."

Logan said, "I know and that's why I'm not fighting this one. A girl her age has to get it from somewhere."

"Well said," Auntie Melanie. "I will present my bare ass to you for a shotgun blast if I foul up with Lou."

Melanie grinned. "And Lou, that's another thing. I..."

"Discussion closed Auntie Melanie. She's Lou now and that's the way it's going to be as I'm hoping the combination Logan and Lou will be celebrated within six months from now for the re-appearance of the family newspaper."

"No!"

"Oh yes, in some form or another."

"Well I be darned. That makes me so happy. I guess what you have told me means I must keep my mouth shut?"

"Yes, not a word either to absolutely everyone especially Melanie. With a bit of luck, she'll know by noon today."

"I must get back to making breakfast for guests Logan. You call me Melanie from now on. Goodness, I wish I were Lou's age as I would be competing against her for you, full on."

"Run along you naughty wench," Logan grinned.

Chapter 2

Logan waited nervously in the guest lounge from 9:45, wondering if this was the end of the road, that Lou had decided to chicken out because he was a little too aggressive for her and was a con artist looking now at stripping her parent's remaining assets.

At 10:05 he was wringing his hands and looked up to find Lou staring at him.

"Impatient to get going are we," she smiled thinly.

"No, I was thinking you had forsaken me."

She laughed as said she owed him nothing, so why would he feel that?"

He looked at his shoes and mumbled that it didn't matter.

"Look at me," she commanded.

He looked up, trying to hide his feelings.

Lou looked at him searchingly and seemed a little startled. She said nothing except holding out her hand invited, "Come on, let's have coffee with the folks."