The Girl at the Bus-Stop (19 page)

Rudge got to his feet and paced the room, rubbing his head.

‘What would you suggest I do then, Becky?’ he replied, ‘Go back to my nice cold garden shed?’

Becky looked out of the window for a few moments before turning to face him.

‘Why not?’ she said, ‘Your wife is due back from holiday on Friday, so you’ll need to check that the builder has finished the house properly. So you may as well stay down there for the rest of the week and get some writing done.’

‘That’s not a bad idea, Becky. The trouble is my shed still hasn’t got any electric, and the battery on my laptop dies after about fifteen minutes.’

‘Take the new one then,’ she suggested, ‘I can make do with this old thing if I keep it plugged in.’

‘That’s settled then,’ Rudge replied with a warm smile, slapping his hands together, ‘but what will you do?’

‘You’re not my bodyguard, Reuben, don’t worry I’ll be fine,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a few things to do for the publisher this week, but after last night I’ve had a belly-full of ‘exclusive’ parties.’

‘Well we were duty bound to attend this time,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but never again.’

‘Did you find Nikki Blandford at the last one? I’d hate to think we had to put up with that nonsense for nothing.’

‘Yes, but not to speak to,’ Rudge replied with a grin, ‘she seemed to have her hands full.’

‘I’ve got an invitation from one of Gale Buckingham’s actor friends. It’s for a cocktail party at his place tomorrow afternoon.’

Rudge shook his head, and looked at her with some concern in his expression.

‘Just be careful, Becky,’ he said, ‘I know you’re quickly becoming the darling of the dah-lings set, but if he’s a friend of Gale’s then he’s bound to be, you know, after something. I don’t mean your autograph either. What’s his name?’

‘Gerhard Henshall, but I’ve never heard of him,’ she replied, ‘some poncy actor.’

‘I’ll have you know young lady that Gerhard Henshall is the brightest young star of the Royal Shakespeare Company,’ said Rudge, ‘and despite his youth, his Lear is a positive tour de force.’

‘Well I hope he doesn’t start leering at me,’ she said with look of disdain, ‘but how come you know all this stuff? You never struck me as someone who was into celebrity gossip or The Arts.’

‘My personal trainer, Frankie,’ Rudge replied, ‘he’s seeing a budding young actress who works in the café in The Globe. She fills him in on the latest theatrical gossip.’

‘You’re really into this fitness thing now aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’ve lost over a stone so far, and I’ve got muscles poking out all over now.’

Becky stood up and squeezed his upper arm.

‘Blimey, its rock solid,’ she said, ‘and you seem to be looking younger every day.’

‘Thanks,’ he replied, ‘would I pass for forty d’you think?’

‘A bit younger even, that new haircut suits you,’ she said, ‘and you’ve lost your baggy jowls too. But if you’re seeing your wife make sure you dumb yourself down a bit, otherwise she’s going to think you’ve got a fancy woman up here.’

‘You could be right,’ he said, ‘would you like a coffee?’

‘Yes please,’ she said, nodding, ‘I’m still half asleep so I need a mega-caffeine fix.’

Rudge walked over to the kitchen area and carefully poured out two black coffees from the pot on the hob.

‘I’ll have to remember to wear my old clothes when I go home as well.’ he said carrying the mugs over and handing one to Becky, ‘I had thought of chucking them out, but I suppose it would look suspicious suddenly having an entire wardrobe of flash new gear.’

With Harry’s car tied up taking Rudge home, Becky walked across to Southwark Bridge Road and hailed a taxi.
 
The traffic was fairly light at that time of the afternoon, and within twenty five minutes the cab pulled up outside an Art Deco block of flats in Knightsbridge.

She was shown up to Henshall’s first floor apartment by the concierge, who waited patiently for a tip as Becky stood outside the door rifling through her handbag.
 
The door was opened by a pretty young redhead with a broad smile displaying the most perfect set of teeth Becky had ever seen. She ushered Becky inside the spacious hall before introducing herself in a Cheltenham Ladies’ College voice as Lucy. She led Becky into the living room, helping her off with her coat and draping it across a chaise longue in the corner.

‘Oh, am I the first to arrive?’ said Becky, looking around the empty room.

‘Actually no, you’re the only guest I’m afraid.’ replied Lucy, ‘I’m terribly sorry for the subterfuge but Gale said you might not come otherwise. Oh, that’s super you’re wearing boots.’

Becky was just about to put her coat back on when the door opened and they were joined by a tall handsome young man in his early twenties. He had long blonde hair, a pleasant smile and was completely naked.

‘This is Gerhard, Ms Caine,’ Lucy said with a polite smile.

‘Gerhard isn’t wearing any clothes, Lucy,’ she replied, looking at the young man’s small penis, the centrepiece of his shaved genitalia.

 
‘Can I clean your boots Ms Caine,’ asked Henshall, dropping to his knees.

‘No, you perverted twat, I’m out of here.’

‘Please stay, Ms Caine,’ said Lucy, ‘he just wants to clean your boots with his tongue. What possible harm could it do?’

Becky looked down at Henshall, who running the tip of his tongue across the pointed toes of
 
her patent leather ankle boots letting out the occasional grunt of contentment. Lucy suddenly produced a thin leather belt from behind a cushion on the armchair, and stood behind him. She struck Gerhard’s buttocks with a measured stroke, and he gasped as it made contact.

‘This is just fucking sick,’ said Becky, trying to push Gerhard away, ‘get off me.’

As she tried to shake him off, she stumbled forwards and trod on his buttocks. The heels dug into his flesh and he rolled over on his back to reveal a small erection. Lucy continued to strike him, the tip of the belt falling dangerously close to his genitals.

‘Please stay, Ms Caine,’ Gerhard pleaded, masturbating for all he was worth,
 
‘the art of our necessities is strange, that can make vile things precious.’

‘Tosser,’ she replied, stepping over him and grabbing for her coat.

Henshall quickly rose to his feet and continued his self-abuse, as Lucy laid into him with a vengeance.

‘Here I stand, your slave, a poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man,’ he said, his left hand reaching out to Becky.

‘I’ve seen quite enough of your old man thank you very much,’ she said angrily, ‘you wanker.’

Lucy stopped chastising her boyfriend, dropped the belt and standing in front of the door she began to undress.

‘We both need you, Ms Caine,’ she said, ‘if you don’t want Gerhard, then let me bare all before you and beg you do with me what you will.’

Becky grabbed her by the half open blouse and dragged her away from the door, pushing her into Gerhard, who was still pulling himself off.
 

‘Is it just me, or is everyone in this town completely fucking bonkers?’

Henshall finally let go of his penis, sinking to his knees and holding his hands together as if in prayer.

‘Please stay, Ms Caine,’ he pleaded, his eyes tearful, ‘Lucy has a new
 
a strap-on and after reading your book, well, I was hoping you’d like be the first to demonstrate it.’

‘You don’t need me to show you what you can do with it, Gerhard,’ Becky replied, ‘I’m sure Lucy here would be delighted to assist you, now goodnight and goodbye.’

Becky stormed out of the room and straight out of the apartment, rushing downstairs and out on to the street as quickly as she could.

She was still upset when she arrived home half an hour later, but before she could close the door behind her the telephone rang.

‘What?’ she snapped at the receiver.

 
‘Ms Caine, are you alright?’ asked Nikki, ‘I’m just calling to remind you about the dinner tomorrow evening with the US distributor.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ said Becky bluntly, ‘but you’ll have to send a car for me. My secretary, Mr Rudge is using mine for the rest of the week.’

‘Ah, yes, your secretary,’ she replied dryly, ‘I trust you both had an enjoyable time at the party the other evening.’

‘Not really,’ she snapped, ‘it was pretty dreary.’

‘Really, you do surprise me,’ she replied, ‘I spotted you with that rather mature naked lady in the apron. Gale Buckingham, wasn’t it? Are you two an item?’

‘How dare you, we certainly are not.’

‘Temper, temper , Ms Caine. I was hoping you might bring her along to the dinner, it could be quite a hoot. I’m sure our hosts wouldn’t mind if she dressed as informally as she did the other night.’

‘It’s not going to happen, Nikki.’ replied Becky, ‘Look, I’ve changed my mind anyway, I’m not going.’

‘Oh yes you are, Ms Caine,’ she said assertively, ‘in the terms of your contract you are obliged to attend these functions. If you breach those terms then it could cost you an awful lot of money. I don’t think your secretary, Mr Rudge, would be too happy about it.’

‘I see,’ replied Becky quietly.

‘I’ll send the car for you at seven thirty, if that’s okay, Ms Caine?’

The dinner party was being held in a small conference room at the Hotel Alzir in Mayfair, and Becky chatted politely to the other guests before the meal. She looking daggers across at Nikki Blandford, who kept giving her knowing looks.

Apart from the rather dour faced US distributor, Max Schiller, the other VIP guests included Teresa Wilton,
 
a young MP tipped for a place in the cabinet, and Abel Strong, a fading star of Hollywood action movies.

The main meal was the usual minimalist designer-chef fayre served on huge square white plates. With a token amount of food arranged in the centre, it reminded Becky of dog shit on a paving stone. She picked her way through each tiny course, hoping that she would be able to grab a takeaway on the way home.

‘The sweet trolley will be arriving shortly,’ announced Nikki, ‘and I’m sure you’ll all find something on it you’ll like.’

A few moments later the lights were dimmed dramatically, and the double-doors opened. A long candlelit trolley was pushed noiselessly into the room and up to the table. Waitresses lifted a huge silver platter, sliding it on to the long table. After the candles had been blown out and the lights came up again, there were gasps of delight as the assembled gathering locked their hungry eyes on the feast lying before them.

On the table a naked young woman lay on her back, almost completely covered in food. Pieces of expertly shaped exotic fruit were arranged decoratively across her midriff. Her upper torso had been coated in various flavours of sauce from strawberry to chocolate, the latter forming a hard shell covering her breasts and a strawberry garnished each nipple. A large pink blancmange covered in hundreds and thousands had been placed on her belly, whilst lower down, her legs were parted slightly and in-between them a mound of small triangular shaped pancakes nestled on a cushion of whipped cream.
 
Her thighs had been topped with various colours and flavours of jelly, and her feet were encased in buff coloured boots made of pastry. These had been topped with chocolate, and fresh cream oozed from the toes.