Т.А. Уильямс – Dirty Minds (страница 11)
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
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.
Chapter Eleven
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
‘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
‘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.