Jayne and Laurent
It was a balmy early summer evening when Laurent’s convertible drew up the long drive leading to the Lomas’ home. The gravel crunched under the tyres as it rolled to a stop by the front door, and Laurent saw the curtains twitch. Seconds later Jayne was at the door, waving to him with a flirtatious smile. Awkwardly, he waved back, uncomfortable with the level of intimacy displayed in her smile. As she walked towards the car he looked her up and down. She was wearing a tailored white blouse, curving over her breasts and gathered at her slim waist, and a knee length black skirt with a daringly high split revealing black stockings, whilst her long naturally blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. She had a body that a woman half Jayne’s 45 years would be proud of, something she worked at very hard. As she put on her sunglasses she saw Laurent looking her over, and she smiled. Once in the car she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, asking where they were going. He smiled but never replied. Jayne knew that he was still uncomfortable speaking English, but also he was generally what novelists would describe as the ’strong, silent type’. He turned up the volume on the CD player and accelerated away.
