Good Time Girl

‘Oh do try to be adult, Claire,’ Roger said baldly.

‘What do you mean “adult”? I trust you are not trying to tell me that you have fucked someone else?’

‘Well, of course I have.’

It had been said. There was a long frozen silence. She’d half suspected it for months. It wasn’t much of a shock, but it was numbing nevertheless. She felt icy inside. It explained everything – why he’d been ignoring her phone calls, his behaviour on the infrequent occasions they had been together. His lovemaking had been perfunctory; expert but almost clinical. Claire sat there appalled, not looking at him for ages.

Finally she said, ‘I’d better go.’

Roger had said nothing, but as she rose and picked up her things, he had fished inside his pocket and pulled out his cheque book. She had watched him, mesmerized, as he had written out a cheque for £500.

‘You’d better have it terminated,’ he said. He had not been able to bring himself to say the word ‘abortion’, she remembered. ‘This should take care of it.’

He handed the cheque to her. She’d taken it automatically, folding it and putting it away in her bag, hardly realizing what she was doing. She just wanted to get out of the room, away from him. She turned to go without saying a word.

As she reached the door, he said, ‘I hope you’ll be all right, Claire.’

She left the flat without looking back at him. She didn’t want his pity. She walked down the stairs and out of the main door in a dream. She never remembered driving away, only the pain in her chest, which was almost unbearable.

Sally re-entered the room bearing a tray.

‘You know, darling, what you need is a job. Here, try this. It’s not half bad.’

‘A job? I’m not fit for work,’ protested Claire feebly, shifting her limbs and hoisting herself up in the bed, to receive the soup.

‘Nonsense! If you were offered a part tomorrow, you’d be off like a shot, you know you would.’

Claire took the tray, before replying, ‘I suppose you’re right. I don’t know where I’d get the strength from, though. I feel as weak as a kitten.’

‘You look a bit like one, too. All sort of fluffy and vulnerable.’

Claire laughed in spite of herself. ‘I look a fright and you know it.’

‘That’s better,’ said Sally, smiling encouragingly. ‘It’s so lovely to hear you laugh.’ Claire turned away. ‘It will get better you know. It will take time, but it will get better.’ Sally laid her hands gently on top of Claire’s.

‘Yes, I know … I’ve been reading the book you bought yesterday. It’s beautifully written.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’

‘Absolutely no sex or violence.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Makes one believe in a better world.’

‘There’s one out there waiting for you.’

Silence.

Finally Claire looked up and said, ‘Sal, you’ve been wonderful to me. I’d never have got through this without you.’

‘That’s what friends are for,’ said Sally breezily. ‘Now what else are we going to watch tonight?’

‘There’s one of those Hollywood biblical epics on later,’ said Claire, glancing at the paper, which was amongst the reading matter strewn across the bed.

‘Oh good, I love those,’ said Sally gleefully. ‘They’re always good for a laugh and, boy, could we do with one. And then there’s all those lovely hunky men wandering around in their little skirts – it’ll do you good to see that there are some other good-looking men around, even if they are all in Hollywood.’

‘As this movie was made in 1954, most of them will be pushing seventy,’ observed Claire.

‘Now, now, no ageist remarks, please. What’s wrong with older men? Come to think of it, it’s what you need, a nice older man to look after you. Might treat you properly.’

‘Do they get any better as they get older?’ asked Claire doubtfully.

‘Not really,’ replied Sally, who prided herself on being an authority on the sex. ‘Usually a bit more reactionary. Oh, and their balls get bigger.’

‘Really?’ Claire giggled. ‘How do you know?’

‘It’s a well-known fact,’ said Sal airily.

‘I might give it a try in that case,’ replied Claire.

Sally smiled her approval. ‘That’s better, you’re sounding a bit more like your old self.’

‘I can’t be my old self, not without Rog,’ said Claire bleakly.

‘I mean your old self,’ Sally emphasized. ‘The one you were before you met Svengali.’

Claire looked up, surprised.

‘Oh yes,’ Sally continued, ‘you’ve no idea how that man dominated your life. What was the big attraction?’

Claire reflected for a moment. ‘Sex – initially. It had never been so good with anyone before.’

That night, after Sally had gone home, Claire lay in the dark, trying to sleep. Her mind unwillingly turned to thoughts of Roger. Whatever his faults, he was a considerate and thoughtful lover. She had been astounded the first time they had been in bed together. It had been at his flat after a photo session. First he had stroked her neck and shoulders gently, and kissed her softly, running his fingers lightly down her throat to her breasts, just brushing the tips of her nipples. He had caressed her, lovingly kissing her body all over, driving her wild with anticipation. The sudden unexpected violence of his entry into her drew from her a gasping scream, which seemed to spur him on. His bottom lip glistened with lust as he thrust into her. She had become frantic, when he had suddenly withdrawn and started licking her clitoris avidly. Then sucking on it. She moaned and begged him to fuck her. His eyes had narrowed and the gleam of white, even teeth showed, an indication that he was amused by her pleading. Then he had slapped her sharply on the face, telling her to shut up. He would fuck her in his own good time.

She came to expect more shows of violence from him. On occasions, he would tie her by the wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, then make her wait for the sublime lovemaking she knew was to follow. After a while, he would kneel astride her face and slowly push his cock into her mouth. He would bring himself almost to the point of orgasm before suddenly stopping and masturbating her until she had reached the same point.

Other times, he would be waiting for her, naked. ‘Tie me up,’ he would say, as she started to undress, eyeing her hungrily. She would see that his erection was already huge. He would stand obediently while she tied him with his hands behind his back to the posts at the foot of the bed. She would take her scarf and blindfold him, then spend an intensely pleasurable half-hour tantalizing him. On her knees she would work her way up his legs with small kisses. As she arrived at his balls, she would see his cock jerk in anticipation of her touch. She would then leave him to wait. He would groan and beg her to continue. After a while, watching him writhe in anticipation, she would suddenly take his cock into her mouth, pushing his foreskin back with her lips. She enjoyed the power of being in control of him sexually on these occasions. After these bouts of titillation, their lovemaking would be frenetic and entirely satisfying, leaving them both exhausted.

Claire lay unblinking in the dark. He’d become bored with her. That was all. He had needed new stimulation, which she could no longer give him. She knew he had not wanted to make any sort of commitment, and had not expected any from her. The last thing he had wanted was for her to have a child. Claire wondered for the hundredth time how she had managed to get it all so wrong. She had thought he loved her. She realized how that she had mistaken lust for love. Well, she’d know better next time. Next time? How could there ever be a next time? She only wanted him. She would never be able to do all those things with anyone else. What she could not put from her mind was the thought that Roger was perhaps doing them at this moment with someone else.

Whoever she was, she couldn’t possibly give him all that she, Claire, had given him. Four years was a long time. He’d soon realize his mistake. He’d start to miss her and come back to her. With this reassuring thought, Claire finally drifted off to sleep.

3 (#ulink_79cc775f-993a-537b-8224-8dc77a230ca4)

‘What did you think of last night’s episode?’ Hugh Travis, the producer of The McMasters, tentatively put the question to his immediate superior, Martin Roberts. They were both seated at either side of Hugh’s desk, reading through the next batch of episodes. There was a considerable pause as Martin mulled it over.

Finally he said, ‘Not bad, not bad – a bit slow in places, perhaps, but on the whole, it was – er – well, it was – er –’