Janice Gentle Gets Sexy (36 page)

Rohanne decided that the sexy passages were probably safe in her hands, after all. And that, dammit, she thought as Janice got out of the cab, was all that mattered.

*

The Boss Masculine invited the Little Blonde Secretary to dinner.

'You have been such an efficient and charming companion,' he said, 'despite your own troubles.' He let his eyes rest on hers for a moment to give solemn weight to the words, and she blinked her pretty wide eyes in pleased acceptance of the fact. She had indeed been efficient, and she was, she knew, charming, despite Derek's silly behaviour and her resultant troubles. The Boss Masculine was very understanding and kind: '. . . And I should like to thank you properly.'

'That would be very nice,' she said, 'I'll just go and change.'

The Boss Masculine watched her pert little bottom as it stepped into the lift, and it was not only his heart that leapt a
little
leap. It was like being eighteen all over again. How could he have got himself hooked up with Valerie so young? He
deserved
a bit of fun. He had been faithful for years, and where had that got him but into a bed as cold as a tomb with a wife who was a walking gynaecological text book? 'Try a little tenderness,' the counsellor had said brightly, 'and the hysterectomy could be the beginning of a whole new area of sexual pleasure.' She must be raving mad.

He had only to touch his wife and she froze beside him. And she wanted separate beds. Well - he resisted the urge to reach out and pat the
little
bottom in front of him - she could have them now and welcome.

He turned to press the button and the Little Blonde Secretary looked up at his shoulders in their dark suit. It was such a pity that he didn't do something about his dandruff, otherwise he would be quite attractive for someone middle-aged. She had a very strong urge to reach up and brush the tell-tale white speckles away for him, but there was another person in the lift, and she didn't think it would be polite in company. You'd have thought, she mused as the lift ascended, that his wife would have done something about it. Taken him in hand. Derek used to have the same problem - he had that sort of skin — and it was so bad that not only did it show all over his clothes but it made quite a mess on the bedroom Wilton. She had been forever hoovering before she discovered Head & Shoulders, which was a very good product. She hoped she could bring it into the conversation sort of casually later.

They parted at their doors.

The Boss Masculine rang his wife. He put on his hang-dog voice, said the conference had gone well, but there was still a lot to do. As he had thought, far too much to be able to come home tomorrow, so it was a very good thing they were booked for another night. To his wife's inquiry about how the Little Blonde Secretary Bird had coped, he said (lowering his voice, looking anxiously at the communicating wall) that she had not done awfully well, that he was feeling a bit put out with her. His wife suggested that he should take the girl out for a meal and try to talk to her about where she had gone wrong. It was a struggle not to laugh. 'If you think so, dear,' he said. 'Perhaps I will.'

The Little Blonde waited for Derek to ring her but she waited in vain. As she dabbed Loulou behind her ears and put a trace in her cleavage, she observed to herself that Derek certainly didn't deserve her. He was supposed to ring at seven each night and here it was, gone half past, and nothing. And he had promised after that horrible night never to go near the pub again. Well, whatever he was doing, it could not be as important as remembering to call her. She had bought him a lovely tie in the Birmingham Bull Ring, and this was all the thanks she got
..
.

She gave her hair one last riffle so that it looked just as fluffy and cute
as Melanie Griffith's, wet the ti
p of her finger and ran it over her daintily shaped eyebrows, and smoothed her black velour frock. No dandruff adhering
there.
And when the knock came, she was perfe
ctly
ready.

'You look lovely,' he said.

'Thank you,' she replied as they entered the lift. She knew that she did.

Derek was feeling slightly uncomfortable. All right for old Ken to say that if he had promised not to go to the pub, then the pub should come to him, but they had left a helluva mess. Still, as
he cleared up the tins and bottl
es and crisp packets, and took the take-away containers out to the dustbin to hide them at the very bottom, he was feeling quite proud of himself, too. Ken and the others had been impressed by his home improvements, and were especially complimentary about the bathroom — with good reason. Ken understood immediately when he told him about the Vent-Axia and how it had slipped in so perfe
ctly
. 'Pity everything doesn't,' he had said, and nudged him with a wink or two. Derek found himself colouring at this. If she knew the half of the sort of things they said to each other, she would - well, it didn't bear thinking what she would do. He was still unclear about what he might or might not have said to Ken in the pub on that awful night, but so far no one had mentioned ankle-holding or anything else indiscreet, so he thought he was all right.

He had showed them the finished nursery. Perfect in every respect except that the blind with the pink, fluffy clouds on it stuck occasionally. But Ken had the answer. 'You just need to adjust the fitting a fraction,' he said, and did it for him. It really did run a treat now.

Then Derek took them into the bedroom to show them the vanity unit where the door had dropped slig
htly
. Unless you thumped it, it swung open. She had been very critical, saying, quite rig
htly
, that the one in the showroom had stayed shut with just a light push. 'What it needs,' said Ken, 'is taking out and realigning. The whole thing. You've set it in at a slight angle. Mind you, I wouldn't bother, personally.'

But Derek thought that he would. She liked things to be right, as he did himself. And he was working away on that, the following evening, making amends in his head for having bent the truth a
little
regarding the pub, when he realized that it was a quarter to eight and he had forgotten to ring.

'I'm sorry,' said the receptionist, 'but there is no reply from that room right now.'

Derek left a message. He was going to say that he had rung and would be in all evening if she wanted to ring back. But he had second thoughts, for it implied that he might have been thinking about going out on other occasions. So he settled for simply saying he had rung. And he went back, whistling, to his task of love.

The Little Blonde Secretary Bird was going to be especially charming to the Boss Masculine tonight; at least
be
appreciated her even if Derek didn't.
And he
didn't have sticky-out teeth.

'You don't mind if we dine in the hotel?' he said, touching her lower back ever so slig
htly
to usher her in. He felt a thrill of something long forgotten, and kept his hand there all the way to the little table in the corner. She looked around her at the powder-blue velvet curtains and the flowered wallpaper with its decorative scroll lights. She approved.

'Oh no,' she said, sitting down daintily, 'and the music is lovely.'

'Yes,' he said. 'What is it?'

'James Galway, I think,' she said, flicking out her serviette before the hovering waiter could do it for her. 'Classical. It's the theme from
Doctor Zh
ivago.'

He was about to ask her if she had enjoyed the film, but
remembered, in the nick of time, that she had probably been in her pram when it came out.

Ordering from the menu
en Francois
was a bit tricky, but he guided her through with
little
squeezes and pats of her hand. For the starter she chose prawn cocktail, while he setded for soup, deciding to avoid the garlic pate just in case
...

They played a
little
game about the main course, she choosing chicken
without
the garnish, and he, at her suggestion, having the more manly fillet steak.

'You men need building up,' she said smiling, tapping his hand, trying not to look at his shoulders which had begun to go peppery again. Also, she noticed, there was quite a lot of grey dotted about, but not in the distinguished areas of the temples (like in
Towers of Steel),
just all over the place. If she ignored this, then the meal and the surroundings, with the candlelight and the wall-brackets, were not unlike that magazine picture. She gave a
little
shudder remembering the article about orgasms. She was almost certain that what was going wrong was that she didn't have one, and very probably you couldn't get pregnant unless you did. She drank some of the Riesling and watched him sip his dark red wine, which, she thought, showed great sophistication. He would know all about things like orgasms - being a man of the world, but, of course, she couldn't ask him, a
man,
now could she? But no wonder Derek was getting a bit, well, strung out — they had done it so often rece
ntly
(apart from that one night which was, of course, the important one) he must be feeling quite bored of it all by now.

She certainly was. An orgasm was probably what was needed. But how? She sipped away at her glass, head on one side, looking prettily bright and not listening to a word he was saying. She wondered if his wife had them. Probably. Everybody in the world - she suddenly felt quite irritable - seemed capable. Why not her?

It was the first time in her life that she had not achieved what she set out to achieve and it made her very cross. Not least when she thought of that ballooning female on the switchboard who had the cheek to confide that
her pregnancy
had happened by mistake.

She ate daintily and both their bottles went down, hers surprisingly quickly. He knew exa
ctly
how to behave and was ever so attentive.

He looked at her and thought she was the prettiest, most perfe
ctly
formed thing on two legs - and the impression grew as the level of his Burgundy lowered.

She thought he was charming and very kind and so
interested
in everything. And by the time they got to the pudding, she allowed herself the indulgence of Black Forest gateau and cream. She was astonished to hear herself say yes to a helping, and to follow it up with one of her favourite phrases, 'A moment on the lips, a lifedme on the hips,' which he found gratifyingly funny.

She pronounced the gateau 'very nice' with an accompanying giggle she had not expected to give, and even fed him bits from her own plate. Thinking of babies made her stop before she had drunk
all
the Riesling. Drink could be very harmful, and she said this out loud.

'Drink is very bad for babies.'

He looked at her,
startl
ed, quickly removed the startlement and nodded sagely, as if she had expounded Plato. He did not know what to say. Eventually he plumped for 'Absolutely', which he delivered with vibrant sincerity.

She was impressed. 'And what do you know about orgasms?' she continued. 'Because I don't think I've ever had one and I really would like some help.'

His own wine having gone, he reached unthinkingly for the remnants of hers and finished it. Whatever happened, he wondered, to the need for an opening gambit like 'My wife doesn't understand me'? For a moment he felt chilled by her directness, for he had quite liked her to be a
little
shy. Still, you couldn't have everything, and this was as close as he was ever likely to get to a cup running over.

'Derek didn't ring tonight,' she said, and her eyes went swimmy.

'If you were my wife and away with another man I should ring you every hour.'

'Oh,' she said, 'he knows I'm not away with another man. He knows it's only with you.'

If ever he had thought to be honourable, if ever he had thought to leave it all in the realms of fantasy, the thought died at that precise point.

'Let's take a brandy up to my room,' he said. 'Shall we? I've got something there — a gift, a token, by way of a thank-you.'

She smiled. 'And I've got something for
you,
she said provocatively.

He ignored further thoughts of his being an 'only you' - which was just the sort of thing his wife might have said - and looked at that pert little bottom again wiggling in front of him.

It occurred to him, as they made their way back towards the lift, that he had not had more than three cigarettes all evening. Which was amazing. It also meant that she was going to be good for him, too. Really the whole thing was perfectly, perfe
ctly
justifiable, and - he looked at the bottom again - a long
time
overdue.