Helping Her Boyfriend's Career

This story is set in 1980/81, so there was no internet, porn was on the top shelves of newsagents and not online, no mobile phones, and no social media. Advice on sexual techniques was not so easily obtainable. The past is indeed a foreign country.

There will be another instalment in this story in a different category and a different title. It is standalone but links in with "It takes two (or more) to Tango."

/-----------------------------------------/

Gerald was waiting until six to go next door to implement his plan to persuade his tenant Amber from an amateur good-time girl into what would be, in reality, a highly paid professional escort for his wealthier friends and clients. She might end up being the full-time paid companion or even the wife of one of them. He wouldn't force her into it, but he thought she would quickly slide further down the slippery slope she had already started along. She wouldn't be able to afford not to, thanks to her ex-boyfriend Alastair. Besides, if someone had a natural talent, they deserved to be paid the full whack for it.

Amber was a busty five-foot-four redhead with a naturally cheerful and bubbly personality who paid the rent on time and worked as a teacher at a public school ten miles away. She had become his tenant a year ago, recommended to him by Bianca, a close friend as well as the wife of a client. Amber had just come out of an eighteen-month relationship with a jealous boyfriend who had eventually beaten her up. Bianca had described her as a cross between Barbara Windsor in the Carry-On films and Felicity Kendall in The Good Life which was a combination which appealed to him. She had also indicated that she was not a believer in conventional middle-class morality. She could fake it but preferred not to.

He hadn't initially intended to make a pass at her while she was a tenant. There were risks involved in trying to add a next-door neighbour to a rota of female friends who, in return for being taken out and given a good time, would allow themselves to be taken by him in as debauched a fashion as he could persuade them to agree to and they also found enjoyable. Besides, she had a new boyfriend whom she seemed happy with. Oddly, getting to know her without any immediate intention of persuading her to have sex with him had increased her attractiveness and had made him more appealing to her.

What changed things was getting to know her boyfriend, Alastair. He knew Alastair's type. He was an ex-public schoolboy capable of being charming, but deep down, he was a selfish man who thought the world revolved around him and owed him a living. Gerald could imagine that at university, being popular and the centre of his social group had been the goal, so the sociopath within Alastair had remained latent. Now, he was focused on his career and becoming wealthy and successful in his own right. He was at the time a junior solicitor in the corporate department of one of the best firms in Birmingham but wanted to move to a large London firm.

In Birmingham, Amber's sexual attractiveness and cheerfulness and the obvious envy of his university friends and work colleagues for Alastair's luck meant that being with her boosted Alastair's ego. If one ignored the lovey-dovey piffle, the way he talked to her showed that, deep down, he didn't think that she was intelligent or good enough for him. Above all, she was too common for him and his family. She was an excellent fuck in Birmingham, but she was not good enough for London or the Cotswolds.

He had been intrigued enough by the man to have sounded out a partner in Alastair's firm who had, in a coded way, given him the message that they would be delighted if Alastair got a London job. He was a little too nakedly ambitious without the intellectual or emotional intelligence to back it up. A kiss-up, kick-down style in the office made him unpopular with secretaries and the general office staff, including those who had relationships with partners and senior assistants. Hey, that was the lack of emotional intelligence.

Gerald had arranged one Sunday in mid-October to take Alastair to the pub to discuss his career while the "little woman" cooked a late lunch. Alastair's phrase, not his. He discussed various ploys to improve Alastair's chances of being offered a job at a reputable London firm. He suggested that using Amber's address on the CV might help. Glebe Cottage, Clent, was more prestigious than Flat A, 164 Station Road, Stourbridge. He saw the man's eyes glint at the suggestion of a minor deception. Had he never heard of the eleventh and twelfth commandment- thou shalt not be found out or, Gerald's favourite, thou shalt not take the piss.

He had told Alastair that Amber was an attractive woman and that any help he provided Alastair was for her sake. He had hinted that he might be able to help Alastair find accommodation in London through his contacts there and mentioned that his clients in the Midlands often needed specialist or high-powered legal advice and would look to him for recommendations.

Alastair had not exactly offered Amber's sexual services but had talked about how much she enjoyed Gerald's company and how good in bed she was. He also explained that Amber had gotten around a bit at university, which had fuelled Donald's jealousy. This had been coupled with the hint that they saw themselves as a joint venture and that she understood how a girlfriend could help a man's career by being "charming" with his colleagues and clients. He might as well have gone wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, but my girlfriend's a whore.

Still smiling when absolute shits said things to him had made him independently wealthy by the time he was in his mid-thirties, and he could retire tomorrow if tax rates were less excessive, and he didn't enjoy playing the game so much.

Indeed, when he next visited Amber to collect the rent, she had taken care to make herself look attractive. An extra button on her blouse was undone; she had applied her perfume, and the lipstick had been reapplied. Still, he knew there must be a mismatch between what Alastair had told her and what he had hinted to Gerald.

One Monday night in late November 1980, he found a note in his letter box from Alastair asking him to join them in a local pub to celebrate some good news. He joined them and was told that Alastair had been offered a job at a prestigious firm in London. Butcher and Cann was first rate in all respects, and Gerald wondered what lies Alastair had told to get the job beyond the address. He was pretty damm certain that the man had not got a first-class degree. Gerald hid the fact from most of his clients and friends, but he had been to Oxford and had a first-class degree in History.

Alastair would be going to see his parents that weekend to celebrate the news but would not be taking Amber. Later, he caught fragments of the conversation whereby Alastair manipulated Amber into offering to lend him £500 to help with the costs of moving down there and buying new suits. Despite the fact that there was talk of the money being an investment in their joint future and that he would repay £50 each month after he got his first pay cheque, it was apparent to Gerald that the relationship would not long survive the move to London. Not unless Alastair saw an excellent reason to keep it alive.

When Amber went to powder her nose, Alastair approached him at the bar and said, "Look, I know that strictly I need to give three months' notice, but I think my firm won't insist on it. After all, I may be able to refer the litigation department work from Butchers. I could do with some help on finding good digs in London at short notice."

He paused and said, "The little woman is a bit disappointed I'm not taking her to see the mater and pater next weekend. I would be grateful if you could cheer her up. Perhaps take her out for a meal. I'll tell her I don't mind her entertaining you or accompanying you to events and dinners, especially if you help me with my career and finding accommodation. Frankly, when I get to London, I'll be glad if someone I trust and she likes will keep her company and give her a good time. Long distance relationships are hard going."

OK, the hint was that she'd be told to be friendly or even prostitute herself in return for him helping Alastair find a flat or clients. He thought that he knew how to motivate her to entertain him. Gerald knew that she really wanted to see the RSC's production of Timon of Athens at Stratford, but Alastair had refused to go, dismissing the play as silly and saying that casting good actors was merely putting lipstick on a pig.

He bought the best seats available for the Saturday matinee and reserved seats at Marlowe's Restaurant in Stratford for afterwards. He went around to the cottage on Thursday evening. "Sorry to bother you, Amber, but I've got tickets for Timon at Stratford on Saturday afternoon, and my guest had to pull out at the last minute. I remember you saying that you wanted to see it."

"I don't think that I can afford it. I've had to spend a lot of money recently."

"My treat. They're already paid for, and they will be wasted otherwise. You'll be doing me a favour by accompanying me."

"I'm really tempted. The reviews were marvellous, and it's not often performed. Also, Alastair is visiting his parents this weekend, and I enjoy your company. It's just..."

"Yes, Amber."

"Before I accept, I will give you a chance to back out. I know that when an older man takes a charity girl for dinner and a show, they expect some reciprocation, at least if they want to be invited out again. It's impossible to live next door to you without noticing that when you take a lady out for an evening, she always stays the night. I am going out with Alastair, and I just need to make it clear that I won't cheat on him by spending the night with you or going to bed with you."

"I understand and will settle for the pleasure of your company and getting to know you better as a person, my dear. Not that I would object to getting to know you better in other ways if you change your mind. I won't deny that my attraction to you is not entirely intellectual."

"I would be amazed if it was entirely intellectual and insulted if you expected me to believe it was. I don't mind you wanting to bed me, but I don't want to lead you on. Look, if Alastair says he doesn't mind, I will join you."

"See you on Saturday then. Unless I hear to the contrary by tomorrow morning."

Her response encouraged him, and he saw it as a challenge to see how far she would go to show appreciation for a night out. He was also intrigued by the thought that she would be what he thought of as a good-time girl if Alastair were not around. He presumed that was what she meant by charity girl. He could also rely on Alastair to encourage her to prostitute herself, albeit subtly.

He gave some thought to ensuring she enjoyed the afternoon and evening on the assumption that she was, at heart, a good-time girl. He chose the MGB GT convertible rather than the Volvo. The car design meant that she could stretch her legs in the car, and it just felt fast and exciting. One ex-companion, now married to a client, had admitted that the revving of the engine turned her on.

/------------------------------/

Preparing for the day out had been stressful for Amber. It did not help that she enjoyed Gerald's company or that Alastair told her when she called him on Thursday evening to check that it was OK, had replied, "That's excellent news. Be friendly to him. Suck up to him. I'm happy for you to go to the theatre and have a meal with him as often as you like."

"Are you certain it's OK?"

"Amber, darling, we are now a joint venture. I get on well enough with Gerald, but it is you he really likes. If he sent two or three of his clients my way and Butchers does its normal Roll-Royce job, then that would boost my chances of becoming a partner in four years and being able to afford to marry you. Hell, I could do with his help in finding a good flat in London. Allhuts & Co has agreed to give me my freedom by Christmas, and I need to find digs by the second week in January. I want to hit the ground running. We need to keep him sweet."

"You know that he fancies me."

"So does any red-blooded man. I trust you not to allow things to get out of hand - it's not as though you are going to spend the night or go to bed with him. Still, you've told me that fifty men have played with your tits; does it really matter if Gerald does? Hell. I'm going to be metaphorically kissing the backsides of partners and clients every day for the next few years as part of the joint venture. Gerald's a decent enough old buffer. I don't want to know the details unless you feel I need to know. I'm not like Donald. I won't obsess about you betraying me."

Despite knowing her for six years and going out with her for eighteen months when she had never betrayed him, Donald had never trusted her with other men, and that had hurt. The fact that Alastair trusted her and gave her some latitude made her feel better about him. She wanted to be faithful to Alastair while at the same time doing as he wished and keeping Gerald on friendly terms.

She recalled her past. She had not gone on well with her parents, who had moved to Spain when she went to university. That meant she had done holiday jobs at hotels and bars, and men often asked to see her on her evenings off. If she didn't have a boyfriend and they seemed pleasant, she would accept invitations a week from the good tippers whom she thought she could keep under control. Actually, she always made sure that she did not have a boyfriend during the summer holidays.

She knew that when a man took her out for a meal and a film, they expected to get to know her better at the end of the evening. She didn't mind the expectation and usually let them get her tits out if they were charming, and she was happy to see them again. More might happen on subsequent dates. Thinking about it, at least two hundred men had played with her tits over the last ten years. She had avoided being a prostitute and paid in cash for sex, although she could not deny that the size of the tips given before they asked her out and the gifts provided on the date influenced how far she would let them go with her on subsequent dates. Still, she was only doing what Charity Girls had always done.

Gerald had as good as warned her that he would try and have sex with her, and she, in turn, had said that she would not cheat on Alastair by sleeping with him. She was uncomfortably aware that Alastair's instructions left a large area of ambiguity that Gerald was capable of taking advantage of. She was also aware that Gerald's confidence and wealth attracted her.

She chose her best bra to wear as, at a minimum, she expected to let him play with her breasts. She had taken steps to reduce the risk of having sex with him by wearing black trousers instead of a skirt or dress. She dithered over what to wear under her trousers and finally made her choice. She justified it to herself by saying that the better dressed she was, the more confident she would be. She knew this was a lie but clung to the hope that he would never find out what she had on and that if he did, knickers that were large and had holes in them would not help the joint venture.

On Saturday, Gerald had called round at the cottage for her and escorted her to his garage. He had opened the door of his MGB GT sports car for her. The car was designed so that she could stretch out her legs, and she instinctively did so and parted them. He laughed and said, "It helps that no one in their right mind uses the back seat for anything but luggage. I'm sorry we can't drive with the roof down, but winter nights are too cold."

The man was in good shape for his age and was comfortable with his wealth. She found this attractive but tried to hide it from both him and her by teasing him about the driving gloves he wore. He laughed and said, "When I started driving, I needed these to keep my hands warm and to keep a good grip on the wheel, especially when I did my national service overseas. Winter in Korea is no fun. Still, I may take off one glove on the way back to show that I am not a total creature of habit."

Although he had taken the gibe well, she was on her best behaviour for the rest of the forty-five-minute journey. After all, he was an important potential source of clients for Alastair and her landlord. The man was a good driver, and she was turned on by the power of the car and the acceleration it could manage.

He chatted with her throughout the journey about the plays she had seen. She had, in the last four years, been many times with the students at The Scriveners School to the RSC to see productions of O and A-level plays, but these tended to be in the cheapest seats available for a block booking. He had seen the same productions, and she found that his favourite actors and actresses overlapped significantly with hers. He also recalled seeing the established actors and actresses rising through the ranks. She was fascinated by his recollections of seeing Judy Dench and Vanessa Redgrave playing supporting roles as Cleopatra's maidens in the late 50s and seeing Diana Rigg as Viola in Twelfth Night.

They arrived early and had a drink at the theatre bar. The production was at the studio theatre, The Other Place, and his enthusiasm at pointing out the advantages of a smaller, more intimate performing area made her reassess the older man. He may be a womaniser, but he was an intelligent one who did not treat her as an idiot. He expected her to know what he meant without spelling out every detail, while Alastair, like most men, felt the need to explain things in excruciating detail. It was almost as though men expected that the bigger a woman's tits, the smaller her brain was.

The production was as good as the reviews had promised. The seats were excellent, and she could perfectly see the actors' minutest reactions. He kept his hands to himself during the play and allowed her to watch without having to fend off advances. In the interval, he had collected their pre-ordered drinks- wine for her, mineral water for him -- and had merely stood closer to her than normal rather than fondling her and had discussed the performance so far.

At the end of the play, they both applauded enthusiastically. He then took her to a pub called the Dirty Duck near the theatre. They still had some time before dinner, and a drink seemed like a good idea. To her surprise, two of the lead actors from the play arrived and came over to say hello to Gerald. He bought them drinks and introduced her to them as a good friend and a fellow theatre enthusiast. The actors happily autographed her programme and accepted her praise for their performances. Some of the junior performers then joined them. They had even consented to Gerald taking photographs of her with their arms around her waist on a small Kodak Instamatic he had in his pocket. She was enjoying herself, slightly tipsy and did not object when Gerald put his arm around her waist when they left for the restaurant.

By six, they were in Marlowe's Restaurant in Stratford. They were shown to a table that she gathered was Gerald's usual. He was sat at 90 degrees to her rather than opposite her. He said it made it easier to talk, but she suspected it had other advantages for him. Still, already by her standards, he deserved to get to what the Yanks called third base.

Amber was the first member of her family to go to university, and going to a restaurant had been a special occasion rather than a regular thing while growing up. At college, she had usually eaten at pizza or Indian restaurants. She felt intimidated by going to a grown-up restaurant and was flummoxed when there were no prices on the menu given to her.