Helping Her Boyfriend's Career

Gerald looked at her and said, "Sorry, I forgot. I'm not entirely certain why they still give women menus without prices on. Enough of you are earning good money nowadays; assuming you are being treated is insulting. I can give you mine if you want?"

She laughed, "Well, it's not as though we are going Dutch. Still, I wouldn't mind your advice on what is good."

Being side by side made it easier to discuss the menu, and he had been helpful without trying to order for her. He had warned her about dishes that might be too rich and heavy, but he acquiesced quickly on discovering she was happy to be indulged. She had followed his lead on the starter and had Oeufs en Mourette. He ordered a bottle of red wine because she was having Tournedos Rossini for her main course. As he was driving, he made it clear that she would be drinking most of it. "After all, I don't want to kill either of us or, worse, lose my driving license. My generation is a little too cavalier about drinking and driving. Still, we will be driving back around nine, and the police don't really look out for drunk drivers until nearer closing time."

While waiting for the starter, she asked him how he knew the actors. He replied, "The Dirty Duck is the RSC's local, so it was always likely that we would see them there, even if they did not come and say hello. My firm sponsors the RSC, and I turn up to the events they hold to encourage us to put in more money. As I actually like theatre myself and take care to recall what performances the actors are proud of, the actors are happy enough to acknowledge my existence and let me buy them drinks."

She laughed, "Presumably, they can now tell management that they have done their bit to keep the sponsors happy."

"Actually, they won't need to, as on Monday I will write to the sponsorship department telling them how grateful I was for their kindness to a young theatre enthusiast. Besides, the younger cast members would probably have talked to you anyway. They certainly were delighted to have an excuse to put their arms around you."

She'd laughed, "And have a quick feel of my bum and tits. One of them even gave me his telephone number and offered me a backstage tour and an invitation to a party."

"Actors are more tactile than most of us. It's probably just their way of saying hello. Did you mind?"

"Not really. Certainly, I would not want to cause any trouble for them. They'd just been on stage and were probably running on adrenaline."

"I'm glad to hear that. Still, I could have a word with John to give a gentle warning if any of them pushed too far."

"Not on my account. I can look after myself, especially in public. Anyway, I find it flattering, providing they are not too insistent." Ok, she had just told him that she didn't mind if he made a pass tonight.

The starter arrived quickly, and Oeufs en Mourette was basically a poached egg in a red wine sauce. She took a mouthful, put down her fork and said, "That's the tastiest thing I've ever had in my mouth." Gerald's mouth twitched slightly, and she then realised what she had said. She blushed, but he ignored it.

"I thought you'd like it, Amber. Simple dishes done well are often the best. The sauce is much the same as the one with Coq au Vin."

After she had finished the eggs and mopped up the sauce with the warm bread provided, he asked about her and Alastair. She'd explained that they had known each other for over two years before they started going out but had always been going out with other people before then. He had been to prep school, a public school, and Exeter University.

"Forgive me if I am being rude, but that isn't your background. Well, obviously, Bristol University is at least as good as Exeter, but I think you know what I mean."

"I know. I thought that it would just be a one-night stand. We were both on the rebound from bad relationships."

Gerald had touched her hand and said, "No need to say more. Bianca explained enough about Donald for me to get the picture, and I was glad to help you pick yourself up afterwards. I don't need to hear the details. I've also heard more from Alastair about Fiona and you than I needed to know."

She looked at him in surprise. He responded, "Apparently, you are far better in bed than she is and much more fun. By the way, Bianca also told me she'd warned you I would take advantage of you if I could."

"Is she one of your ex-companions?"

"Let's say I dealt with someone she cared for in a manner which means that Bianca thinks she can rely on me to be honourably dishonourable. I did indeed introduce her to her husband, who is one of my clients."

"Honourably dishonourable?"

"I warn women that while I am happy to take them out, talk and listen to them, and show them a good time, I am not interested in marriage and then persuade them that at the end of the evening, all they want is to have uninhibited sex with me."

"Why do they go for that?"

"Because I actually like women and listen to them. While I took advantage of the fact that women weren't allowed to compete when I started my career, I never believed it was because they were incapable of it. I respect women while still wanting to bonk them if they are up for it."

He's paused, "It's not compulsory to bonk me for women to be my friends, although, obviously, it does incentivise me to see them regularly. I also prefer not to mix work and pleasure. Professionally, I employ bright, motivated women because they do a good job and don't all expect to stab me in the back six years on. I don't have sex with them until they are no longer working for me. I have had a secretary for twenty years who is brighter than most of my partners, but when she was growing up, going to university or becoming an accountant was not for the likes of her. She is married to a factory worker who is intelligent enough to love her and treat her well and not ask about her salary. I have never slept with her, but let her know she is doing a good job and ensure that she is the best-paid secretary in the firm."

She said, "That wasn't what I expected."

"Enlightened self-interest. I'm not a good guy, but when surrounded by bastards, it is easy to be the best port in a storm. Think of me as Claude Rains in Casablanca without the suggestion he fancied Bogart."

She looked at him and tried to work out what he was up to.

He paused, "Anyway, about you and Alastair?"

"I didn't expect that it would be more than a one-night stand. He says he loves me and that I make him happier than anyone else ever has. He says that he wants to marry me. I want to give him a chance to show that he means it."

"Will it survive him moving to London?"

"He says it will, but he will meet new people there. It would have helped if Allhuts had held him to three months' notice. I could have looked for a new job myself."

"He'll be a fool to drop you, but he will do what he thinks is best for his career."

"Sorry?"

His hand reached over the table and held her hand. She put her hand on top of it and squeezed.

"Let's be honest. I know the type. He is the second son in an upper-middle-class family, which believes in the oldest son inheriting the lot. They'll help him get started, but he's on his own now. He's ambitious and wants to prove to his friends and family that he is a success. He was a Cambridge reject and has a chip on his shoulder about it. If he makes it, he can marry for love, but otherwise, he needs to marry someone who will be good for his career and socially acceptable."

He looked at her, "Are you certain that you both want the relationship to continue after he moves to London? I can see that he's been good for you these last few months, but is he a long-term prospect? If you think he's worth it, then you will have to think about how you can be good for his career. You'll certainly need to spend time in London, get to know his friends there, and help entertain his clients."

Fuck, the man was right. It was also clear that the most obvious way she would be good for Alastair's career was to ensure Gerald referred his clients to him at Butchers. OK, a Balsall Heath handshake at least was happening this evening. She'd given at least one hundred and fifty men one of those, so it was no big deal to add Gerald to the list. If Alastair were not around, he would be getting that this evening in any event.

He waited a moment and then started talking about the things which were right between her and Alastair. The message was that if they could survive the first six months of him being in London and she could pretend to be upper middle class more convincingly, all could be well. She would need to change jobs and move to London, but he recommended that she wait until at least Easter before looking for a new job and, preferably, until the end of the summer term. "Alastair will need to be ready to accept that he wants to live with you in London. I will pass on the message that if he dumps you, I will refer future work through the partners I am dealing with."

She was confused by this, but maybe it fitted into what Bianca had said about him, "He's not a natural bastard, but he can be if he wants to be. He is a man who likes to have his cake and eat it. If he can do you some good and take advantage of you at the same time, he will. He'll even warn you that you are walking into a trap." In retrospect, she was pretty certain that Bianca must have been one of the women who occasionally stayed the night a few years ago.

She parked that thought and talked about the fact that Allhuts was not holding Alastair to his full notice period and the need to find new accommodation quickly. Gerald smiled and said, "He sounded me out about this earlier this week. One month is pushing it, and I'll need to spend time phoning around and calling in favours if he wants a good address."

His hand reached under the table and held her knee. Fine, if she wanted his help for Alastair, then she needed to motivate him. She put her hand on top of it and squeezed and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be very grateful if you do." Oh, fuck. She might as well have just told him to take her up the arse. He pretended not to notice and simply smiled.

Just then, the main courses arrived, and she again realised how much better the top 10% lived and ate. He ordered her another glass of red wine as they had finished the first bottle. She played footsie with him to let him know he would be getting something from her tonight. For now, she was in love with Alastair enough to want to keep him if she could.

The main course was as good as the starter. Being wined and dined at better restaurants suited her. She made no objection when his hand moved up to her thighs and squeezed. When the dessert menu arrived, Gerald insisted she try the special bread and butter pudding. She had been doubtful but had decided to trust his judgement. In the event, she was enraptured by how using better quality and lighter ingredients transformed the school dinner dish into a culinary orgasm. They had shared a half bottle of Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, and she was now aware that if it were not for Alastair, she would now allow Gerald to do anything he wanted to her in return for a chance to do this again. She had two more candidates for the tastiest thing that she had had in her mouth.

She went to powder her nose and decided on her plan of action for tonight. She would pretend to be trying to be a good girl, but if he asked her in for a nightcap twice, she would accept and then take things from there. She reapplied her lipstick and undid another button on her blouse.

They had a cup of coffee each at the end, and Gerald had paid for the meal on Barclaycard and had left a cash tip. Apparently, it meant more could legally go to the staff without paying National Insurance contributions or PAYE. He put his cashmere coat over her shoulders as they returned to the car. She left her blazer in the boot of his car with his coat and settled in the passenger seat. She laughed when she saw that he had not put his left driving glove on and opened her legs to allow him to squeeze her upper thighs while waiting for the traffic lights to change as they got out of Stratford itself. She almost wished that she had worn a skirt to allow further scope for exploration. Once they were on the road, the need to change the gears and steer the car meant that the squeezes could only be fleeting and more of a punctuation to the conversation. This was just as well as the smoothness of the ride; the last glass of wine and engine revving had definitely loosened her inhibitions. She lowered herself in the seat and had undone two more buttons of her blouse, saying it was warm.

Gerald had asked, "You referred to being a charity girl on Thursday. It's not a phrase I've heard before."

She'd laughed, "It was in an enjoyably trashy novel I read when I was sixteen. It was set in 1920s New York. The central characters were a group of five young women without much money and not much chance of making it. Still, shopgirls and typists want to go out and enjoy themselves, and in practice, this meant being treated to meals and taken to dance halls, speakeasies, and cinemas by better-paid men."

He nodded, "No doubt there was an understanding that in return for the man paying for the night out, the girl would be grateful at least if she wanted to be asked out again."

She nodded, "Yes, the more grateful a Charity Girl was known to be, the more often and lavishly she was likely to be treated by men. The better-looking and more vivacious ones could be invited out without having to provide much more than a kiss and a cuddle. Average lookers or quiet ones would have to put out or be put on the shelf. The women themselves and most of the men did not regard this as prostitution because no money exchanged hands."

He laughed, "Definitely a lot like I would call a good-time girl. Most of the ones I knew when I was your age were vivacious enough to get away with a kiss and a cuddle, at least on the first couple of dates. No doubt each of the five lead characters had a different fate."

"That's right. Two stories ended badly -- one girl was raped, became pregnant and had to marry a jealous brute. She hoped that the child would look enough like her or him for him to care for it. Another became a prostitute, went to jail, and died of syphilis. Two ended in reasonably happy matrimony, one with a loving, wealthy husband whom the girl liked but did not love; the second married with a kid on the way to a wage slave she loved but knew it would be a struggle to make ends meet. The last girl was still juggling four men a week and had been promoted in her store job. Oddly, I wanted to be her."

"Too many bad endings there. In my experience, good-time girls end up in happier marriages than good girls if they want them. Admittedly, they may have to move cities to escape their previous reputation, but that is less so now. Cars mean it is possible to be one without all your friends and relations knowing you are. Also, a few years at college or working in London allows them to come home with an air of sophistication -- more a Damon Runyan ending."

"You sound like you have had a lot of experience of them."

"Let's simply say that I have learnt that when accompanying the good-looking and vivacious, a man must do more than foot the bill if he wishes to end the evening well. Have you known many charity girls?"

"I was one for a time." Fuck, she was drunk if she was being this honest, but to help and keep Alastair, she had to let Gerald know that she was up for some liberties being taken. "I wasn't well off as a student, and during holidays, I worked at golf clubs, restaurants, and hotels. I learnt that to get a good tip, some men expected to cop a feel of my arse or get a good look at my tits. Occasionally, men asked to see me on my afternoons or evenings off. If I didn't have a boyfriend, I would accept a couple of invitations a week from the good tippers who seemed pleasant and weren't too handsy. It was normally an invite to the cinema or a meal at a Berni Inn."

"Lots of prawn cocktail, over-done steak and black forest gateaux?"

"Precisely. Still, at that time, it was still special for me. I did ask for the steak to be medium done, but it didn't seem to make a difference."

"I'll have to cook you a rare steak sometime with a green salad. It may or may not suit you, but it is, in my view, tastier than well-done steak if you don't mind the blood."

"I must take you up on that. Alastair says my tastes are a bit plebian."

"But has he tried to widen them?"

She was silent for a few seconds, "Well, as a group, we have got used to pizzas and Indian food over the last few years. None of us are really wealthy yet, and some are still quite poor."

"I understand. So, about your days as a Charity girl?

"I knew they expected to get to know me better at the end of the evening. I didn't mind the expectation and usually let them have a kiss and a cuddle if they had been good company, and I was happy to be treated by them again. Even if they didn't, they left bigger tips afterwards."

"I am an older man myself. I would not have settled for a kiss and a cuddle."

"Actually, it was more a case of letting them get my tits out in the backseat of the car or cinema if they were charming and giving them a Balsall Heath handshake if I wanted to see them again. I learnt to keep plenty of hankies in my handbag."

Thinking about it, at least two hundred men had played with her tits, and she'd given over one hundred and fifty of them hand jobs over the last ten years. Hell, she might as well let Gerald do so.

"I suspect they may have also told their friends about you."

She blushed at that, "Well, maybe. By the end of the holidays, I was going out or accepting lifts home most days of the week." Christ, she had been stupid back then and hadn't made the connection until her second year when one man had complained that she hadn't wanked him off when she had done his friend. After that, she had made it clear to men that there were limits to the boasting they should indulge in. She'd also learnt to avoid entertaining more than one man at once. She'd got away with it at the time, but if they'd driven her somewhere more remote, things could have gone badly wrong.

When they'd got back and parked, she lay in her seat and played with the gearstick. "Gerald, if you'd like to stay in the car and talk about the play and the evening, that would be fine. We both know what would happen if you invited me in for a nightcap."

"Do you think I'm too old and not supple enough to try to have sex with you in the front seat of a roadster?"

"No, you are too proud of the car to risk damaging it by flailing limbs or hard-to-remove stains."

He had laughed at that, "I don't suppose that you would like to move into the back seat of the Volvo."

"You may as well invite me in for a nightcap. We could have a threesome in that without contorting ourselves."

"Can't say I've tried. I'll take your word for it. Although if you think Alastair is up for it, I'm happy to give it a whirl next weekend - by way of scientific experimentation, of course."

She laughed at that, "I don't think I'll mention that suggestion to him. Pity, it sounds like fun." Fuck, she meant it, and it gave a certain message.

They chatted a bit more until she finally said, "I couldn't have afforded the ticket or the meal myself and would not have known what to order. You went out of your way to make the day special for me. I am still, deep down, the charity girl who understands that if a debonair older man takes an impoverished teacher in her mid-twenties out to dinner and a show, then the young lady needs to show her appreciation at the end of the evening if she wishes to be invited out again. I definitely do want to be invited out again, say, once every six weeks." She started undoing her blouse buttons.