Dirty Minds (6 page)

She and the dog turned and made for the warmth of the house. He returned to the car, the feel of her still on his arm. His mind was miles away. She waved from the doorway. He put the book on the front seat and switched on the engine. He raised his hand in a vague salute and headed for home.

He parked outside his house and climbed out. Remembering her book, he reached back in for it. It had slid out of the plastic bag. It was a hardback book. The interior light showed the title clearly:
The Case of the Velvet Ball Gown.
His befuddled brain was suddenly catapulted back to reality. Surely it couldn’t be …

‘Oh, no. Oh, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!’

Forgetting to lock the car, he walked up to his front door in a daze. He opened it. A cold wet nose was waiting for him. Absently, he reached down to scratch the dog’s ears.

‘Noah, old buddy, we are deep, deep, deep in the proverbial.’

The dog did not appear to realise the seriousness of the situation.

‘When she gets to London tomorrow and checks her mail, I’m screwed, Noah, totally screwed.’

Janet finished the last page of the report and stretched. Everybody had gone home. Even her faithful PA had finally excused herself and returned to her husband. The door was locked and the illuminated JP RECRUITMENT sign was turned off until Monday morning.

She made herself a cup of herbal tea and took it back to her desk. Behind her the lights of Regent Street blazed into the night sky. Opening the top drawer of her desk, she pulled out the remaining half of her lunchtime packet of sandwiches. As she chewed her way through ‘Low Calorie Roast Chicken and Salad’ she allowed herself to switch off that portion of her brain that dealt with the business. In its place she switched on her literary muse.

Since talking to Melissa the previous day, she had been thinking hard. Here she was, contemplating writing, or at least co-writing, a book about sex, and she hadn’t had sex for years. What she needed was a crash course in sex. Short of going out to a bar and trying to hook up with somebody, she didn’t know what to do. And at her age, she was sensible enough to know that she was not going to do that.

She finished the sandwich and took another sip of tea. Her computer was still on. For a moment she considered trying computer dating but she realised she didn’t have the luxury of time on her side. She really needed to get the thousand words written this weekend and in the post on Monday. That gave her only two days. And, apart from deciding upon the sex act itself, she still needed to make a decision on when and where.

A phone started ringing. It was her mobile and Melissa was on the line.

‘Don’t tell me you’re still in the office.’ They really did know each other so well. ‘Haven’t you got better things to do with your time on a Friday night?’

‘Hi, Melissa. I was just finishing off.’ She glanced at the time and was unsurprised to see it was half past seven.

‘Want to come round here?’

‘Haven’t you and Graham got things to do this evening?’

There was a slight pause. ‘He’s out again. Some business dinner. So, how about it? You can pick up a takeaway on your way over here.’

Janet reached forward and pressed the power switch on her monitor. ‘Great idea. I’ll be there in half an hour. What do you want? Chinese? Indian? Thai?’

‘You choose.’

In the end, she went into the very upmarket fish and chip shop just around the corner from Melissa’s house. They did grilled, as well as fried, fish. She ordered two portions of scallops grilled with bacon. While this was cooking, she slipped next door and bought a bottle of Chablis, cold from the fridge. Five minutes later she was ringing the doorbell.

‘That smells great.’ Melissa ushered her in. There was an open bottle of wine on the kitchen table. ‘Help yourself to some wine while I get plates.’

Janet poured the bottle into the two glasses. A few moments later they were sitting on the sofa, tucking in.

‘Mmm, good choice.’

‘They do really good fish there. I wish I had a place like that near me.’ Janet took her time, savouring the food and realising how hungry she had been. Finally she polished off her plate and drank some more wine. She settled back and relaxed. Her friend followed suit.

‘So, have you decided the what, when and where yet?’

‘No, not really. I suppose I have been so stuck on the what, I haven’t given much thought to the other stuff.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. You did say you knew lots about the fascist period?’

‘Well, maybe not lots and lots, but yes, I suppose I do. Or at least, I did. But I thought we weren’t getting involved with the Nazis.’

‘We aren’t. What about setting it during the World War II, but over here in London? You know, men going off to war, soldiers on leave and out for a good time. The precarious nature of life in wartime. Living for the moment, that sort of thing. Then there were the GIs hitting the UK, handing out stockings and condoms. That could give you a lot of scope. Have a think.’ With that, she went out to the kitchen, returning with the second bottle of wine. She filled both glasses.

‘I think that might be a really good idea.’ Janet turned it over in her head. ‘Maybe I could make it the final night together for a couple, before he is posted overseas.’

‘Nice idea. Maybe not kinky enough.’

‘He didn’t actually say, make it kinky, you know. You saw the letter.’

‘Yes but with all that talk about
Fifty Shades of Grey
it’s pretty obvious he’s looking for something a bit out of the ordinary, a bit smutty. If not bondage and spanking, then maybe group sex would do it. Ever tried?’

Janet laughed. ‘No, never. Have you?’

‘I’m not really sure.’

‘What does that mean? Either you did or you didn’t.’

Melissa looked unusually embarrassed. ‘When I was at uni, I went to a party once and got terribly drunk.’ She glanced up. Janet saw that she was blushing. ‘I woke up in the middle of the night feeling ill. It took me a bit of time to register that I was in a bed with three other people.’

‘Three? You terrible girl. Have you any recollection of what did, or didn’t, happen?’

‘Well, sort of. I was stark naked and it took me five minutes to round up all my clothes. They were strewn all round the place: I found my bra down the back of an armchair in the lounge.’

Janet giggled. ‘Oh, Mel! And the men in bed with you, were they naked, too?’

Melissa nodded, then she took a big mouthful of wine. ‘Man.’ Seeing Janet’s raised eyebrows, she explained. ‘One man and two other girls.’

Janet’s eyes widened. ‘Two other girls? So did you and the girls … ?’

Melissa set her glass down and covered her face with her hands, chronically uncomfortable. ‘I really shouldn’t have started on this.’

There was no way Janet was letting her off the hook now. ‘Research. Mel, that’s what I need. Spill the beans.’ She sat back, enchanted by her friend’s discomfort.

‘I just don’t know, Jan. I suppose I might have done, must have done. I just don’t remember. And believe me, I have spent a lot of time trying.’

Janet stared at her in disbelief for a whole minute. Finally she spoke. ‘So, if you did, do you know which one it was?’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘Or might it have been both of them?’

Melissa drained her glass and reached for the bottle. ‘Well, you see, it’s not really that easy. I saw both girls around campus quite often from then on. But you can’t exactly walk up to someone and ask if you’ve had sex with them.’

‘But didn’t they say anything to you?’

‘Not a dickybird. Mind you, they were both drugged out of their heads most of the time.’

‘And the boy?’

‘Never saw him again. No idea who he was.’

‘But I bet he had a smile from ear to ear after that experience.’ She held out her glass for a refill but had to put it down hurriedly as she started to giggle uncontrollably. After a few seconds Melissa joined in. The two of them laughed until the tears were rolling down their faces.

‘Do you know, Melissa, I think that now we have the what, as well as the when and where.’ She wiped her cheeks and calmed herself with a sip of the Chablis. For her part, Melissa gradually recovered from the stress of her revelations. Then she put the cat among the pigeons again.

‘So if you are going to write about a hetero/lesbo four-in-a-bed romp, have you got the necessary skills and experience?’

This stopped Janet’s merriment dead.

Penny had abandoned Émile Zola for the time being. She was sitting at the kitchen table doing her best to compose something suitably raunchy on the laptop. Scott was just finishing the crossword.

‘Scottie, what word should I use for vagina?’

‘What’s wrong with vagina?’

‘I just wonder if it isn’t naughty enough. Should I say … ?’ She paused, unsure how to continue. ‘Should I use a stronger word? Maybe the “c” word?’

‘Woah, there, Pen. This isn’t
Lady Chatterley
, you know.’

‘Well, to be quite honest, this erotic novel thing is supposed to be a whole lot sexier than Lawrence. We’re talking whips and canes and things.’

‘Yes, Pen, but that’s just kinky stuff. The icing on the cake, so to speak. You can’t use a word like that.’

‘Scottie, you’ve gone quite red. Have I crossed some kind of line here? Is that a taboo word?’

‘Well, how often do
you
use it? When’s the last time you said to yourself, “I really must scratch my you-know-what”?’

‘I suppose you’re right, not that I scratch my you-know-what half as often as you two boys fiddle with your bits.’

‘It’s complicated down there for us chaps. It all needs rearranging from time to time.’

‘Too much information, thanks, Scottie. But this is set in the 1800s. I can’t use a word like pussy. It’s too modern. Scott, you’ve gone red again.’

‘I’m sorry, Pen, it’s just that I’m not used to having this sort of conversation with you. With Jamie it’s all the time, but with a girl?’

‘So I’m still a girl, am I? I thought I was an old auntie.’

‘I never had an auntie who looked as good as you, Pen.’

‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Scott. Thank you. Now help me with my vagina.’

‘Oh lord. Well, your piece is set in the South of France, isn’t it? Isn’t there some French word you could use? You could say, he rammed his Aznavour up her Sarkozy, and nobody would be shocked and appalled.’

‘Now there’s a thought.’

‘So how do you say it in French?’

‘Say what, Scottie?’ She pretended innocence.

‘Sarkozy of course.’ He was fighting back.

‘Well, let me see. Do you know, I thought I spoke pretty good French, but I only know one or two very ordinary terms for that part of the body. More to the point, what word would they have used in the nineteenth century? I know. How about
chatte
? That’s a female cat, but it also works as you-know-what.’

‘Thank God you’ve sorted that out. So, what’s the plot, then? Do I get to read it?’

She had been thinking about that. ‘It’s probably best if you don’t, Scott. It’s bad enough knowing that this Marshall man is going to be reading it. The thought of somebody I know and like … Why, you might be so disgusted, you would never speak to me again.’

‘I won’t be disgusted. I promise. But it might be a good idea to let somebody else see it before you send it in. You know what they say. Two heads etc.’

‘All right then. I’ve just got to stick in a few
chattes
and I’m done. Upon your own head be it. Why don’t you make us a cup of tea while I’m finishing off?’

He did as bidden, while she inserted a few nineteenth-century French vaginas. As he appeared with the tea, she clicked
Save
.

‘Well, if you’re sure you want to read it, it’s done. Read it on the screen. That way if anything needs changing, I can do it, before printing it out.’ She passed him the computer and went upstairs.

When she came back down again, he was well into it. He looked up briefly as she came past him. She sat down on the sofa and raised an eyebrow.

‘Disgusted yet?’

‘It’s amazing, Pen. All this time, living alongside you, and I never realised you were such a–’

‘Pervert?’ Her tone was light, but she was worried.

‘No, no, not at all. I was going to say, such a good writer. Can I make a confession?’ He was red in the face. ‘I would never have thought that just reading the written word could give me a hard-on. But it has.’ This time she blushed redder than him.

‘Oh good lord above, your auntie has given you a hard-on?’

‘
It wouldn’t be the first time, Pen. If only you knew’
, he thought to himself, as he hastily returned his attention to the screen.

He read it through to the end. The last page was particularly striking. The story ended on a note of redemption.

The Marquise bent forward and cupped the girl’s pert little breasts in her hands. As she did so, the stable lad saw again the red stripes across the milky white of her ladyship’s buttocks. He remembered her cries for mercy as he brought the crop down on her naked flesh. It was clear that she had truly learned her lesson. Now, in place of the evil dominatrix, there was only this compliant, docile servant.

He ran a gentle hand across her battered flesh. She turned towards him, a smile upon her face.

‘‘Thank you, Master.’

Scott looked up. His cheeks were red and there were beads of sweat on his brow. She avoided looking at his crotch.

‘So, what do you think?’

‘Penny, have you ever done any of this stuff?’ He sounded hoarse.

‘Nope. Last time I touched a riding crop I was fourteen. And, before you say anything, it was a horse who received the odd whack.’

‘But you write about it so vividly.’ There was admiration in his voice. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Scottie, Émile Zola wrote about coal mining, child birth and prostitution. It’s a pretty safe bet he never tried any of them. It’s called imagination. Plus a fair bit of research in the nether regions of the internet.’

‘Well, you had me convinced. I have to admit, I could see you there.’

She was intrigued. ‘In which role? Hopefully not the stable boy. But did you see me as the maid, or as the Marquise?’ She waited for his answer with considerable interest. She was to be disappointed.

‘I couldn’t possibly say.’

‘You little tease, Scott. So, anyway, any comments, changes, suggestions?’

‘I thought it was very well written. Only one line struck me as a little bit corny. Right at the end, do you really have to describe her butt as milky white? It’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?’

‘You’re absolutely right. Thanks a lot. I’ll take milky out. I could use the word virginal, but there’s precious little that’s virginal about the Marquise.’

‘How about referring to the texture of the skin, say pure or flawless?’

‘Flawless, that’s perfect. Thanks Scottie. I’ll print it out. Just promise me one thing. Don’t tell Jamie you’ve read it. I couldn’t stand that.’

‘My lips are sealed. And that’s more than you can say about the Marquise.’

Just for a moment, Penny toyed with the idea of offering to help him with his state of arousal. Then she gave herself a good talking-to:
He’s years younger than me. What am I? A cradle-snatcher?’

She stood up. ‘I’m calling it a day. Thanks, Scottie, for your help.’ As she stepped past him, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek.