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I’m lying back in bed, smoking, and I say to Audrey who I’ve just lit up in more ways than one, “Isn’t it about time you had your nails cut,” and she says to me, “Leave off, you know that’s one of the bits you enjoy best,” and I must admit she’s right, only of course I don’t admit it to her. I take a few more drags and look down my body and at her body which is naked except for the half-slip which, time being of the essence, we never got round to taking off. The slip’s all twisted up round her waist except for a little bit of lace edging that’s overlapping the top few curls of her pubic hair. I reach down and pull the slip away so that she’s all exposed and she gives me a look. “Do me a favour.” I tell her, “Not yet, what do you think I am, James Bond?” She pulls a face. “All it is,” I say, “is that it’s a long time till your next visit to the hairdresser’s, isn’t it, and I like to remember,” and she says, “Funny.” At first I don’t tumble and then when I do of course I have to laugh.
I finish the cigarette and get off the bed and walk over to the table where we’d left the vodka and ice and slices of lemon and I liven up my half-empty glass and ask Audrey if alcohol might not be an anticlimax after what we’ve just been through and she says, “What about you then?”
“I’ve got to steady my nerves down after that,” I tell her and she says, “Well, you’d better give me one because I’ve got to steady mine down because I’ve got to phone Gerald. I’m late.”
“I’ve got to phone him too,” I tell her. “I should have been at the club an hour ago.” I make her drink and take it over to the bed picking up the phone on the way. Audrey takes a drink but she doesn’t touch the telephone, just stares at it, as she lies there propped up on her elbow. “Someone, somewhere wants a phone call from you,” I say, but all I get for that is “Piss off.” I shrug and take a drink and sit down on the edge of the bed. “You know what would happen, don’t you,” she says. I know what’s coming but I don’t say anything. “I mean,” she says, “if Gerald ever got to know about us.” “Yes, I know,” I tell her. “We’d both be dead.” “No,” she says. “You’d be dead, you’d be the lucky one. What he’d do to me would be much more interesting. I mean, Gerald really enjoys going to work.” “I know all about Gerald,” I tell her, lighting up another cigarette. “You think I don’t know about that?”
“I must be bleeding barmy,” she says, and I tell her yes, she must be bleeding barmy. “I mean,” she says, “doesn’t it worry you?” “ ’Course it worries me,” I tell her. “What do you think?” “Well, you never seem to,” she says. “No,
well . . . ” I tell her. Then there’s a long silence and after that she picks up the phone and dials the number. I lie back on the bed and rest my head on her stomach. You’ve got to give her credit for being a great little performer because when the receiver’s lifted at the other end she delivers “Hello sweetheart,” just the way she does whenever she phones me. I can hear Gerald’s reply even from where I am. “What the fucking hell do you want?” he says. “Oh, bleeding charmin’,” Audrey says, her hand over the receiver, “just bleeding charming.” “Look,” he says, “didn’t I tell you I’m having a meeting all afternoon? Didn’t I tell you that?” I transfer my cigarette to my other hand and reach up and start massaging Audrey’s breasts. She tries to push my hand away but her being propped up on one arm and holding the receiver in her other hand she doesn’t have much joy. I carry on with the therapy and she says, “Yes, I know, darling, but I had to phone and tell you why I’m going to be a little late because I know how you worry.” “All right, let’s have it,” Gerald says. “So why are you going to be late?” I take hold of her arm and pull her forward so that she overbalances off her elbow and falls with her breasts resting on my lower stomach. She mouths silent rage at me but Gerald’s voice rasps down the line and she has no time to recover her previous position. “The thing is,” she says, “I ran into Yvonne in the hairdresser’s and what with Harry just being sent down she wanted to talk, you know, so I’m back at hers now. God knows how I’ll get away, you know what she’s like . . . ” “Fucking Harry,”
Gerald says. “A right bright bastard he is. Serves him bleeding right, don’t it? I mean, going out with those fucking
amateurs, fucking ponces . . . ” Gerald stokes himself up on the subject of Harry and I slip my hand behind the back of her neck and push her head down until I can feel the warmth of her breath tickling the tip of my prick and the closeness of her breathing begins to take effect because she looks from it to me and her expression changes and a different kind of wickedness appears in her eyes and she lays the receiver on my belly, the mouthpiece against my prick-end, takes me in hand and begins to go to work, all the time looking into my eyes, and all the time Gerald’s barking voice reverberating through the plastic against my skin. Eventually Gerald’s voice stops and Audrey puts her mouth next to the mouthpiece, her lips brushing my tip, and she says, “I know, darling, you were right, you were always right about Harry, especially when you got rid of him. I mean, how could you trust a man who’s stupid enough to trust those ponces, you could see it coming,” and Gerald says, “Too fucking true, he was a berk.” Audrey says, “Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as I can. If I’m back too late tell Ann-Marie no later than seven with the kids, you know she spoils them,” and Gerald says, “Right,” and
she says, “How about a kiss, then?” “For Christ’s sake,” Gerald says, “you know who I’ve got here?” “I’m not going to let you go without a kiss,” she says. “Oh, all right,”
Gerald says and makes a kissing noise down the phone, and she fakes one back, only her lips, when she purses them, are kissing me, and like I say, not on my mouth. The line goes dead and she carries on with the kissing.
After Audrey’s gone I have a shower and do myself a steak and salad. Gerald and Les can wait a bit longer. They’re not to know what time I met Cross. While I’m eating my steak and having an extra couple of drinks I watch television but I really don’t take anything in because I’m thinking of what Audrey said about being barmy carrying on together. I’d had that thought ever since we’d first tumbled. But the alternative, rowing out, just wasn’t on as far as I was concerned. Not since that very first time. Every bird I’ve ever had was just so much cold meat compared to Audrey. And in any case, trying to row out from a bird like Audrey would be just as dangerous as the present situation. The shit would fly whatever I did. So as usual I give up thinking about it and put on my gear and start out for the club.