My Cousin Gail

[neerathemall]

'Oh? Did you not have fun? You seemed to be having fun.'

'Lots of fun,' I tell her. 'But that doesn't mean that what I did was right.'

Gail laughs. And then she reaches for my cock.

'Uh-uh,' I say. 'I need to get over to the showroom. Saturdays are primetime for walk-ins.'

'It won't take long,' Gail says. 'You're growing already.'

And, no, it doesn't take long. So much for not getting tempted a second time.

'So... what are your plans for this morning?' I ask Gail.

For a moment or two, she just frowns. And then she says: 'I really should head back down to Cardiff. But, to be honest, I don't really feel like crawling back with my tail between my legs. I think I need to make a new plan first. Work out what I might do next.'

'And do you have something in mind?' I ask.

'Not really. I didn't realise that I was going to need a Plan B. I don't suppose that I could stay here for a couple of days. Just while I sort out my options.'

'Yeah. Of course,' I tell her. 'Stay as long as you want. As long as you need. But right now, I need to have a shower and get myself across to the showroom.'

'Can I come with you?' Gail asks.

'Umm... yeah. If you'd like to. Although I should warn you: some days it can be a bit boring. On the other hand: other days it can be a bit of fun. Well... interesting, anyway.'

And so Gail and I get ourselves sorted and head over to the showroom.

Daniel, my finance man, has arrived already and he has the coffee on. I introduce Gail and Daniel to each other and then I select three cars -- a Porsche 928, a Ferrari Dino 246GT, and Datsun 240Z -- to partially nudge out onto the small forecourt.

'The little car on the end is very pretty,' Gail says.

'A '72 Datsun 240Z. The first of the Nissan Z cars. And, yes, it is pretty, isn't it? And a lot of fun for the money. Of course, if I was looking for a track-day car, and I had a few more pennies to spend, I'd probably be tempted by a 300ZX Twin Turbo. But as a touch of classic class... yeah... a 240Z would be hard to ignore. I don't think that one will be hanging around for long.'

I have barely had a chance to swallow my first mouthful of coffee before a chap arrives and starts walking around the Dino. 'He just got out of that late model Audi across the road,' I mutter to Gail. 'So... my guess is that he likes cars, and this isn't just a casual visit.' I walk out and greet him.

'I used to have one of these,' the chap tells me. 'Sort of wish I'd hung on to it now.' And he laughs.

'I know the feeling,' I tell him. 'Are you a collector?'

He shakes his head. 'Just looking for a birthday present for my wife.'

'Lucky woman,' I say.

'She's had a rough couple of years. I though a new toy might help.'

I nod. 'This one has been completely rebuilt,' I tell him. 'My chief technician did his apprenticeship at Ferrari. He has a bit of a soft spot for the prancing horse.' I open the driver's door so that the potential buyer can see that the interior has also had the full treatment. 'I'm Jeremy, by the way,' I tell him.

'Howard,' he says. 'Howard Springbrook. I guess the question I have to ask myself is how practical will this little lady be just puttering around Chalfont St Giles?'

'Chalfont St Giles? I was up there just a few days ago,' I tell him. 'My guess is that it will certainly turn a few heads.'

And then Howard turns and looks at the Datsun.

'240Z,' I say. 'The first of Nissan's Z cars. Again it's had a total rebuild.'

He walks, slowly, around the car and, when he arrives at the driver's door, I open it. He doesn't need a second invitation and, moments later, he is sitting in the driver's seat, looking around the interior, nodding and smiling. And then, still sitting in the Datsun, he looks back at the Dino. 'I remember when the first Zs came out,' he tells me. 'I think everyone was a bit surprised at how good they were. You know. Japanese cars didn't have a great reputation back then.'

'That's fifty years ago,' I tell him. A bit before my time. But, yes, I gather the quality and the performance were both a bit of a surprise.'

'Hmm. Decisions, decisions,' he says. 'In my mind I was thinking Ferrari. But now I'm having second thoughts.'

Well, he's going to buy one of them, I tell myself. And if it's going to be his wife's puttering car, the Datsun might be the better choice. 'Switch it on and pop the bonnet,' I suggest.

Again, he doesn't hesitate.

The little Datsun's six-cylinder 2.4 litre engine breaks into a purr.

'Take it around the block,' I tell Howard. 'Probably a bit more traffic than Chalfont St Giles, but it'll give you an idea.'

'Yeah. Thank you,' he says. 'Oh... that's my Audi across the road. Am I likely to run foul of the parking wardens?'

'You should be OK,' I tell him. 'But leave me your keys. We'll keep an eye on it for you.'

'Thanks,' he says.

'Sale, Miss Jones,' I say to Gail as Howard nudges the Datsun out into the Saturday morning traffic.

'Has he bought it?' she says. 'Just like that?'

'Not quite. But he will.'

Howard returns about 20 minutes later.

'How was it?' I ask.

'Nice,' he says. 'But I think that Miranda is going to want a rather more up-to-date entertainment system. I'm not sure that she still has too many of her old cassette tapes.'

'We can sort something,' I tell him.

'In that case, we just need to talk about the price,' he says.

'Aww. And just when I was getting to like you,' I tell him. 'Let's go and find the paperwork.'

At least he has the good grace to laugh.

As it turns out, we have a pretty good Saturday. In addition to selling the 240Z to Howard, we also sell a Mini Cooper S to a chap who wants to recapture his youth, and we buy a BMW E36 series M3 Cabriolet that the owner has long since fallen out of love with.

'Well... it's going to need some work,' I tell him.

'Yeah. I know. But I'm ready to move on.'

Actually, the car just needs a bit of a tidy up. But, if he's ready to move on, who am I to stand in his way?

'Selling cars looks a lot more fun that selling houses,' Gail says, as we head back to my place at the end of the day.

'Does it?' I say. 'Yes. I suppose it's fun on a day like today. When everyone comes away feeling that they've had a win.'

'Are there days when people don't feel that they've had a win?'

'Mmm... possibly a few,' I tell her. 'Not many. In fact, not many at all.'

When we get home, Gail and I get out of our suits and into something a little more casual, and I find a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio.

'Just as a matter of interest,' Gail says, 'did you make money on both of those cars today?'

'Oh, yes. Probably not as much as you would have made from selling a couple of moderately expensive houses. But how often do you sell a couple of decent-priced houses in less than three hours? And we still have the M3. That should turn a handy margin.'

I have some langoustines in the freezer. I take them out; prep a loaf of garlic bread; and then prep a Greek(ish) salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, capsicum, red onions, feta, plump black olives, oregano, a slosh of red wine vinegar and some olive oil, salt and pepper). And then it is time to fire up the barbeque.

'Perhaps I should sell cars,' Gail says, as we sip our wine and wait for the grill to come up to temperature.

'Do you like cars?'

'Would I need to?'

'I think it helps,' I tell her. 'Do you like houses?'

'Not especially. Well... not the sort of houses that I normally get to sell, anyway.'

'Maybe that's the problem,' I say.

Gail frowns. But then she says: 'No. I think it's just the system. The attitude. The way you're supposed to see both the sellers and buyers as know-nothing mugs. The way you are supposed to mislead one or the other. Sometimes both. Sacrifice anything and everything in pursuit of the commission.'

'Perhaps you just picked the wrong agency,' I say.

'I think they're all, to a greater or lesser extent, a bit like that,' Gail says. 'It just seems to be the way that it works.'

It has finally reached the time of the year when the sun has moved around far enough -- and for long enough -- to warm the little patio, and so that is where we eat. The langoustines are succulent and the salad complements them perfectly.

'This is nice,' Gail says, gesturing with her hand to include both of us and the small garden.

'It is,' I say. And my brain starts having another argument with itself. One half is telling me that I'm just having a pleasant little supper with my younger cousin. Move along, folks. Nothing to see here. The other half is telling me that I'm having a hot date with a very sexy woman, a hot date that can only end in one way. I will need to be careful. I will need to be very careful.

'After spending a few days with you, I'm starting to wonder why everybody rushes to buy new cars,' Gail says. 'Whey don't we all just buy classic cars?'

I laugh. 'I think it depends on what you want from a car,' I say. 'Modern cars tend offer a lot more by way of creature comforts. And, on the whole, they are probably more reliable. But, that said, most of them lack soul. Well... I think so, anyway. I suppose it's a bit like buying a Georgian terrace house versus buying a new-build with all mod cons.'

Gail nods.