Wednesday, 23 May 2012

Lauren, Part Two

Spotting Lauren in the restaurant a couple of hours later was not exactly difficult. Not only because she was white, but also because of the number of tattoos that she had. I counted two on her neck, plus several stars that had been engraved onto her left cheek. I noted that she was wearing a thin long sleeved sweater and a multi-coloured cotton skirt that brushed against her ankles, and I wondered how many other tramp stamps she was carrying?

I sat down and breakfast was ordered and duly arrived, and as we munched our way through the day's first meal, Lauren began to explain her problem. Now, I know that you do not really care about the discriptive stuff, so I shall give you the short version of what had happened in her life.

Lauren had been living with her four year old daughter and Benito, her Mexican boyfriend, in the USA. Benito had done something or other and various thuggish types were after him, so he had cajoled Lauren into emptying her savings account and taking off for Mexico City. The young daughter still thought that it was all a great adventure, but after three months Lauren's sense of humour had become a little strained, especially as Benito's family had put her to work driving the family-owned pesero along its allotted route. A pesero is a collective taxi which runs a set route and which picks people up and drops them off anywhere along it, but the drivers need to speak Spanish, and since Lauren did not have a word, she was packed off to drive with one of Benito's teenage brothers as a conductor.

"I want to go back to the USA, but I don't even know where the long distance buses run from, or how much it costs," she explained.

"Why don't you get Benito to take you to the station?"

"I keep asking him, but he always just says that we will go tomorrow, but that never happens either because he is busy or he is getting drunk with his brothers," she explained.

"Do they pay you for your driving?"

"No," she answered firmly.

"You need to start helping yourself to some of the takings when the brother is not looking," I told her.

"I'm way ahead of you on that one," she replied with the first smile of the day.

"So what do you want from me? You have money, so I don't see what the problem is," I said.

"I don't even know where the bus depot is, how to book my tickets - I don't even know where the buses run to in the USA," she explained.

"How did you get down here?

"We went to Laredo, in Texas, and then took a bus down here, but it was late at night when we arrived and I couldn't find my way back there if I tried," Lauren said.

"OK, lemme see. You want me to take you to the main terminal and get your tickets for you, and then put you and your daughter on a coach going to the border, is that the idea?"

"Yes please, she said, wriggling deliciously in her seat.

"I'll have to speak to Benito - I don't want any problems for my family when I am back in England, I told her.

I was expecting a protest, but all Lauren did was shrug and tell me to go ahead.

"Why did you choose me as your knight in shining armour?"

"I knew you were around from your blog, and I figured that you might want to help," was her cryptic answer.

"You like the blog?"

"Yep, and the videos that you have on it as well. I can see now that it's really you in them. You sure whup hard, don't you?"

"Does Benito smack you?

"Naah, just the odd kick or punch when he is drunk," was her contemptuous answer.

"Ever been spanked?"

"My dad did it when I was growing up. Did it until he died when I was twenty," she said, before carrying on, looking me directly in the eye: "I also did one to ones in Chicago when I needed the money," she said, firmly.

"Really? And do you need any money now?"

"I think that I may have enough to get us to the border, but not enough for the Chicago leg," was her considered reply.

"It sounds to me as if you need a daddy to take care of you, if your good," I said quietly.

"But I'm not good. I'm very, very naughty," came her response.

"Then I shall adopt you as my very own for the duration of your time in these United Mexican States," I told her. "When do you want to leave, by the way?"

"In about a week, tops," she replied.

"Wonderful," I said. "Any longer and we could get bored with each other, and we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

"No daddy," we wouldn't.

To be continued.

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